#he just need someone to push him beyond his expected limit

[comicarc]

𝐖𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐆𝐨 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

"We'll get in your car and you'll lean to kiss me, we'll talk for hours and lie on the backseat." Part 2

wc: 1434

01:00 AM

“If love can fade, so can pain.” 

I saw it in a book once, but I always thought it was a load of bullshit. And today, as I drown in drinks, cleansing my internal scars with the bitter taste of alcohol, I am reminded of how misleading that simple statement was. It wasn’t my first relationship, nor would it be my last. There was nothing special enough to reminisce, rather it was regret that brought about my melancholy. I was always left heartbroken by the fact that I wasn’t enough. They would always cheat, lie, or simply ghost me, no matter how much effort I put into the relationship. And so, I am left alone each time, questioning who was the real problem. With each sip of my drink, I regret the insignificant mistakes I made throughout the experience as if that would have made any difference in the outcome. 

Drunk beyond my limit, I stumble out of the bar, having had enough of my reminiscing. Pushing through the crowd of young bachelors looking to find their next ‘victim’, I lose my footing. Instead of my falling, I’m held up by muscular arms snaked around my waist. The giant forearms bulged as they moved to pull me into a chest, embracing me. I try to turn around to catch a glimpse of my savior, but he keeps my head straight and leads me out of the bar, shielding me from the room of desperate men surrounding us. When we reach the cobblestone sidewalk at the bar's entrance, I can finally spin around.

My curious eyes are met with azure ones, somewhat covered by strands of black curly hair. Contrasting his chiseled face and sharp jaw he maintained a warm and soft expression. His eyebrows arched in a manner that conveyed more sympathy than pity. More admiration than judgment. More kindness than obligation. We held eye contact for what felt like hours. I was lost in the ocean that formed with the reflection of nearby lights on his cornea. Finally, he broke the silence with an introduction.

“I’m Jason. Nice to meet you.” His voice was just like his face: rough and attractive. 

“I’m y/n.” I slurred.

“So y/n…you need a ride home?”

I was too drunk to make a coherent sentence, much less form a rational thought. Therefore, in my desperation, I immediately agreed. If I was going to get kidnapped, it might as well be because of a handsome man. 

Contradictory to my expectations, Jason was very gentlemanly. He kept me close in his grasp as we walked to his car, but never touched me anywhere other than my waist. As he seated me and headed to sit in the driver’s seat beside me, I rapidly blinked, trying to keep my eyes open. His voice soon faded in the background and before I knew it, everything went black.

05:30 AM

I groggily woke up, rubbing my eyes to see darkness surrounding me. I’m lying in a car seat with a blanket draped over me and a satin pillow cushioning my heavy head. Looking in front of me I see Jason sleeping with nothing to keep him warm and using his jacket as a makeshift pillow. Admiring his sleeping form, I don’t question his situation. There could have been millions of reasons why he kept a pillow and a blanket in his car. Who was I to judge? It wasn’t as if my living situation wasn’t any better. After all, I was homeless. Kicked out of my ex’s apartment last night after we broke apart. 

I reach the phone in my back pocket and click the power button to check the time: 5:37 a.m. As I briefly check my inbox for any notifications, I hear a yawn beside me. Jason had finally awoken and was staring at me. Not in a creepy, lustful way, but rather in a more affectionate, almost loving manner. 

He questioned, “So, how’d you end up shitfaced last night.”

He was someone who I may never see again, so I quite confidently muttered, “My ex.”

“Man, he must’ve been blind to have lost a catch like you.”

I chuckled at the compliment. It had been forever since I heard niceties being uttered from my former love, so it was no surprise that my heart fluttered. “How about you? Your girlfriend dump you too?”

It seemed he had the same idea, as he confessed, “I’m practically dead to everyone I know and I’m just frustrated that I didn’t realize how little they cared for me earlier.”

Gently rubbing his shoulder, y/n comforted, “I don’t know you or them, but from my experience, maybe give them a chance at redemption?”

“Experience?”

“It’s not my first time in that bar and it sure as hell won’t be the last.”

This time he let out a hearty laugh and I joined along. When we began to calm down, the pure ecstasy that coursed through my body urged me to lean forward. I was inches away from his face when he realized my intention. In mere seconds, he gently grabbed my hair to pull me closer, passionately kissing me. His touch felt so fresh and welcoming. Better than any of my exes’. I moved my hands to match his rhythm, embracing his husky exterior and feeling his muscular biceps. My eyes were closed and my mind alight, hoping that this kiss might lead to something more.

A week later – 03:00 AM

Ever since our chance encounter, Jason and I have texted religiously. Usually, I called it a night by midnight, but tonight was different. Jason had told me he was headed to make amends with his family in an ‘unconventional’ way, whatever that meant, so I was helping him work out all his frustration before the meeting. With a few final words of encouragement and reassuring messages, I headed to bed.

I slept like a baby for about three hours before being awoken by a loud thud in my living room. Startled, I jump out of bed and rush out. In the dimly lit room, I see a man in cargo pants and a leather jacket with a red mask, splayed across the floor in a pool of his blood. I was left motionless as I tried to understand the peculiar situation. When I patch him up, I’ll get all the answers I need. With this thought, I rush over to my medicine cabinet, grab the first aid kit, and position myself at the man’s side. 

After I stitched and sewed the gaping wounds on his chest, I brought my attention to his masked face. Slowly, I attempted to remove his chipped helmet but was stopped when his hand grabbed my wrist. Immediately, I let go of the mask and strained to free myself from his grip. It seemed my struggle had fully woken him, as he sat up, pulled me closer, and whispered, “Don’t touch the mask.” The rasp in his voice gave away the menacing tone he was trying to convey, and despite his warning, I continued to take off his mask. 

Shock wouldn’t even begin to describe how I felt. The man I had partially patched up was the very man who I harbored feelings for. From the night we met, I felt nothing but lust and sympathy for him but now… 

“Jason?” I asked, my mouth slightly agape as I tried to process all the information I had gathered.

“Y/n, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I-”

“Sorry? If you died where would I be, crying over your dead body? You’re the Red Hood goddammit. You didn’t think to warn me before you got close to me?”

“I never meant for you to know. Or at least to find out like this.” 

“Then what? Were you expecting me to be another one of your victims?”

“What the hell?”

“ I’ve seen the news. Those stories of all the people you’ve killed, innocent or otherwise.”

“No! No, I would never do that to you. I…”

“You care for me? Is that it?”

“Yes.”

“Did you care for me enough to consider how I would feel?”

“Of course.”

“Then…did you love me?”

His silence was answer enough. I let out a chuckle as tears uncontrollably rolled down my cheek. “It’s pathetic really, how much I still hope it's you and me in the end.” My vision blurs and when I blink, he’s gone. Without even a goodbye. I’m alone again and left to pick up the pieces. 

It’s like deja vu. 

#dc comics #batfam #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd #angst #red hood #red hood x reader

[keirientez]

band au rahhhhhhhhhhh

#i wanted to draw the other guardians too but this would be a good start #ok so #tsuna starts his band. yamamoto bass and gokudera keys and tsuna suprisingly drummer and also lead vocal. reborn appears out of nowhere- #being “youre not your full potential so i will drain you till youre like a fish in a dehydrator until you become the best out there.” #thats about it #but i just like how drumming singers are like extremely good music people because drumming is already hard. and singing too??? #absolutely insane i might say. tsuna would do this (bc reborn told him so) #he does not want to be the best but reborn exists in the paro for a reason #reborn is like maybe a famous musician who faked his death then did whatever he wanted to do while he was “alive”. then he got tsuna as his #apprentice and so so. oh yeah also whiplash (the movie) reference bc holy shit its so good. for me at least. and reborn would make tsuna go #that kind of crazy. like training until drenched in sweat from morning to night or whenever hes available. bc he knows he has potential #he just need someone to push him beyond his expected limit #btw 8059 implied #gokudera joined the band first bc yeah then comes yamamoto for fun as he had to rest from playing baseball a bit too enthusiastic #gokudera hated him so much for like being dumb??? (the goofy ah laugh) but then the two dated even before reborn made a move on tsuna #its very funny but they work it out #i was also thinking if the band ever do solos or do something not as the whole band 8059 will have their own album. itll be great #for genre im not sure?? lets just say alt rock electrojazz???? #no idea but maybe ill make a playlist. maybe #sawada tsunayoshi #reborn #yamamoto takeshi #gokudera hayato #8059 #r27

[highonmarvel]

Ribs (II)

Bucky Barnes: Mob!Bucky has you. 18+ only.

Part I: Ribs

content warnings here!

You have limited mobility in your left arm without having sharp pain shoot across your shoulder and, of course, damaged knee caps—Dr Banner replaced the shattered one, luckily your right knee only had flesh wounds, no damaged cartilage; you still needed a cane to walk, but three months later you could at least walk without the help of another person. Theee months.

How you had survived was more a curse than a blessing, you wished you’d just died on the spot.

Bucky hadn’t hurt you since, and if you didn’t know better, you might have assume he felt genuine remorse and guilt over his actions. He’d dragged you to the car and you assumed sedated you, because you next woke up in a hospital bed. He wasn’t even there when you opened your eyes. After everything he couldn’t even be bothered to fucking show up.

Dr Banner you wanted to believe was a good man who had just got caught up with Bucky’s line of work—you remember vaguely hearing Banner “owed him” and he was now his personal medic, patching him and his men up when things went awry. He had a sad look in his face when he noticed you gaining consciousness; he didn’t speak, you (physically) couldn’t, neither of you had to—he could sense the disappointment in you, that he was going to help cover up such a violent assault, so violent you couldn’t imagine Bucky had ever tortured one of his enemies this way—maybe he fucked them up, and fucked them up bad, but raping someone was beyond.

It took a few days for you to be able to be able to speak coherently and sit up on your own after initially waking up—not once did Bucky visit.

But Steve did.

Bucky was extremely strict with you not getting involved in his business, not talking to any men, including his own. You had seen Steve a few times, spent a little time with him as you waited for Bucky to wrap something up, and gathered he was Bucky’s right hand man, but you’d never really spoken to him, and you got the sense he was under strict orders not to speak to you.

His visits were short and from afar, but you caught him watching through the window a few times with the most somber expression: he knew this had gone too far.

One night, Dr Banner had left, the nurse slipped out for the second, and you caught Steve through the window, mouthed the words “Help me.”

His eyes widened, he looked down both sides of the corridor and you were sure he was going to rush in and do something, get you out, or even just speak to you, if not for encouragement at least some form of brief conversation outside of basic health questions with Dr Banner would have done—he could even have yelled at you, you just felt like you needed to speak to someone—but he didn’t; he shook his head and left.

Three weeks later you could go back “home,” they said—Bucky’s penthouse wasn’t home. It wasn’t a hospital you were in, it was one of Banner’s labs with a few hospital beds, the drive to the penthouse was less than ten minutes. Bucky hadn’t visited. You had expected to see him in the car, but when you were put in, it was a blond instead.

The door shut, the car started rolling, and Steve didn’t look at you.

“Steve,” you breathed, though you couldn’t reach towards him with your arm in a sling, “Please help me.”

He stared straight ahead, but you saw him gulp; you knew he was opposed to this, opposed enough to go against Bucky? You couldn’t even beg, plead for him to help, you were still a little fucked out on pain killers, but you had noted that day you could get him to help, even in just the slightest way. You could.

Steve pushed you in on a wheelchair, and when the elevator opened to reveal the lavish foyer, Bucky stood with a glass of scotch in hand and a small smile, a soft look in his blue eyes you never thought you’d see again.

He crouched down, eye level with you, “I’ll never hurt you again. Never.” And you had heard that before, you knew better than to believe him, but you just wanted this to be over, you forced yourself to believe him as tears spilt from his eyes, just enough to get through hell.

Even through the drugs, you could feel your ribs sting.

Three months now, and you went down for a glass of water in the middle of the night, not that you needed it, but you needed to get out of the bed you shared with a devil. He stirred, asked where you were going, he knew you had a glass right next to you, but you told him you just needed to stretch your legs more than anything, but only to the kitchen. To your surprise, he didn’t protest.

You hobbled down the stairs, cursing the winding steps as you made your way down, slowly.

Upon entering the kitchen,

“Steve.”

You say as you spot him leaning against the counter.

“You need to leave.”

Tears spring to your eyes. You knew it; you knew there was good in him; you knew he could do it.

You nod furiously as you take a step towards him.

There’s a sound, a loud sound, and a hole in Steve’s head, red seeping from his forehead, down his face, blank blue eyes staring back at you.

You can’t even scream, there’s a hand on your mouth instantly. Now you shake your head, struggling to breathe under the force of a palm pressed against your lips, heavily breathing through your nose, tears streaming down your face with such speed you’re momentarily worried you’ll run dry, dehydrated yourself and collapse on the kitchen floor.

Maybe this time he’ll kill you.

A knee connects with the back of your bad one and you fall forward onto your hands and knees, that splintering pain shooting through your legs again. You drop onto your stomach with a cry, reaching shaky hands down to hold your knees.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky coos as he crouches. He runs a hand down your cheek which you can’t even slap away, your own holding your legs as you breathe so shakily and heavily you’re near hyperventilating, body trembling.

“That wasn’t to hurt you, I just needed to get you down, okay? I didn’t hurt you, see?” he tries, tone gentle and assuring.

You manage to stretch your neck back to look up the room. You hadn’t even heard Steve’s body hit the ground, but there it lays, blue eyes once full of emotion devoid of it, and still staring back at you. Blood pools around him, staining the pristine white of the ostentatious kitchen.

Bucky places a hand on the back of your neck, bends your head forward to face him again.

“I don’t want to do this again,” he murmurs, eyes welling with tears, “I don’t want to hurt you again, but you can’t leave me, angel, you know that; it hurts both of us, and everyone around, see? Steve’s dead, my best friend, because of you; you killed my best friend.”

You don’t have the will to fight anymore; you’re broken, physically and mentally. You want to just nod, and you want to apologise, but you can’t through silent screams leaving your throat as you try to calm yourself from the hot, unbearable pain in your knees.

“And I still love you. I know you’re confused, but you love me too. Doll, you can do anything to me; scream, kick, try to kill me, if that’s what you want… but don’t ever leave me.”

His voice goes dark as he emphasises those last few words, so dangerously low you’re worried you’ll slip into that tone and keep falling in, and those words, more so the way he said them, will haunt you forever.

“That’s the one thing: don’t leave. I know it’s been difficult, but look at you still standing. Everything can be fine, you just have to stay. I can change, just don’t leave. I love you.”

It’s not love, nowhere near close, and you wish he’d never used that word and that he’d never use it again, it’s some fucked up need to possess, keep and own, to have and to hold, as an object, it’s like he just wants a doll—maybe that’s why he calls you that.

He places his gun aside, deliberately away from you, you can tell, and sits cross-legged next to you. His fingertips lightly graze your left shoulder. You wince through your other frantic efforts to adjust to your much more prominent pain, and he snatches his hand away, like you’re hot to the touch. Slowly, he brings his fingertips back, and though you jerk slightly, he doesn’t pull away. Calloused fingers graze where your shoulder had been popped out of place, and so gently he does it for a moment you forget he’s the one that caused it.

He presses down harder, and you cry out.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispers, over and over like a prayer. You look up at him and see that sinister glint in his eyes, that thing that possesses him, that look you know better than well, that look engraved into your mind, so deep it’s an integral part of you, at this point.

That sadistic glint. He will never change; he can’t change. And you can’t escape.

✪

#dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x reader #dark bucky x reader #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky x you #dark!bucky barnes x you #dark!bucky barnes x y/n #dark!bucky x y/n #dark avengers #dark!avengers #yandere bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes #soft!dark!bucky

[asuyaka]

GUESS WHO'S CLASSES ARE FINALLY OVER GIRLIES💃💃

Damn, it's been a heck of a while since I last came back to this blog--

Anyways! I've been following the new JJK episodes(I am not fine and it's all Mahito's fault.), so to put a bandage on his gap in my chest, how about some reverse comfort shot for our boy Yuuji during the Shibuya arc? Heaven knows he's in need of it. The prompt would be that he's having the meltdown/panic attack after regaining control over his body after Sukuna raised hell on the city(along with all the memories that come with it) and his lover finds him crying on the ground and rushes to comfort him and ground him.

I just want my boy to get a hug goddamn it, Gege won't give him any breaks😭

- Sincerely, '🌈' Anon.

★ - 'm honestly haven't watched the new episode yet (prayin' s'the "I'm you." timeline !!) but, 100% agree! 'm boy needs a break !! (gege is cruel (；′⌒`) )

☆ - Itadori Yuuji x Reader!

♡ - 'm sososososo glad t'see you again 🌈 !! 've lowkey been burnin' out, but 'm glad you're here !! <;33 （〃｀ 3′〃）| listenin' to... Skyfall

Good God— you don't know how you're alive right now.

The stench of curses and blood permeated the air, dried blood from curse users and curses stuck your hair to your face; heavy breaths leaving your lips as you looked around for any familiar faces.

Shibuya is in shambles, nothing more and nothing less. Dead civilians and auxiliary managers litter the streets, and several cars and buildings are smashed and flipped on their sides.

"Fuck," you wheeze, holding onto the scar that stretches to two separate sides of your face.

Your ribs are most definitely bruised or broken— there's no doubt about it. Your ankle is a bit sprained and you can't hear anything from your left ear.

You're really looking for Yuuji, you're lovable, and sometimes (a lot of the time) oblivious boyfriend. It's a bit biased, you know. Though Yuuji is at the top of your priority list, you really just want to find anybody who came to Shibuya with Gojo.

An earth-shattering sound makes its way through your ear(s). You turn around sharply, staring in shock as a few inches away from your foot is completely gone.

There's a presence you've felt ever since you woke up and you more or less guessed it was Sukuna.

If you had moved one step ahead, you would've died by what you assumed was Sukuna's domain.

Sukuna.

Your eyes widen as they stare at the crater formed by the King of Curses' domain. There's no way people aren't dead.

Yuuji.

"Oh fuck, Yuuji?!" Your anxiety goes haywire as you force your body to move. Even though every bone in your body aches in pain, pushed to its limit and beyond during the plethora of curses you've fought, you move.

Your heartbeat accelerates as your breaths get shorter. As fast as you run around the perimeter of the crater, you still haven't found Yuuji. Yuuji and his boyish smile every time you get him a gift, Yuuji, and his airy laugh whenever he sees something that manages to get him just right.

Yuuji and, his adorable love for movies, Yuuji, and his bright demeanor, able to make almost anyone fall under his spell.

Yuuji, who you find scratching at the road with tears falling down his eyes, wailing about how he should be the one to die.

It's right then and there, that your heart breaks.

Forgetting about the pain in your body, you rush over to where Yuuji was a heavy exhale, tears brimming your eyes and throbbing pain coursing through your body.

He turns to look at you with eyes that don't look like your boy, that don't look like Yuuji. He looks as if he's seen a ghost —like he didn't expect someone he knew to still be alive.

"You're alive...?" His voice is hoarse like he's dehydrated. It's missing its usual animated tone, his normal light voice, and his smile — fuck his smile.

"Yuuji," You exhale. "Yuuji, you're alive, fuck— you're alive." You get closer, and your body finally collapses on you. You're able to feel the emotions you forced yourself to push down the minute you stepped into the veil encasing Shibuya.

The hurt when you saw people you hold near to your heart die in front of you, the pain every time you felt your bones cracking, or the feeling of your skin stretching to accommodate the wound that was bound to form a scar stretching across your face.

Yuuji backs away from you, his fingers leaving a bloody trail from where you found him scratching at the road. "No! Get away from me— I'll try and kill you too!"

He'll... try and kill you?

Yuuji hangs his head in his arms as he curls into himself, seemingly trying to make his body as small as normal. "I'm nothing but a murderer! No matter what I do— or what I try to do— I just," He interrupts himself with a hiccup, blood mixed with tears leaking from the bottom of his face.

"I can't help anybody! I killed innocent people, I shouldn't be allowed to live!"

Yuuji continues to cry, his bloody fingers gripping his now dirtied pink hair.

Gently, as to not make him pull away from you, your arms wrap around his body. He refuses, trashing in your hold as he begs for you to let go of him, to distance yourself from him in case Sukuna somehow manages to take control again.

"Yuuji." You say softly, letting your coarse arms run through his hair.

He doesn't respond. Though he isn't struggling to move, he still remains unresponsive. "Yuuji, you aren't a monster."

He shakes his head furiously. "I killed them with my own—"

"Sukuna killed them, not you." You mutter softly. Even though you don't know the whole story, you know Yuuji, your Yuuji, would never kill innocent people.

"Yuuji, you aren't a murderer. You aren't a murderer."

Yuuji sobs into your shoulder, his bloody fingers gripping tightly against your shirt. "I'm sorry— I'm sorry!"

You keep your voice soft, softly running through his hair and rubbing circles on his back as well. "It wasn't your fault, 's okay..."

You reassure him, keep telling him that he wasn't a murderer, that he wouldn't kill innocent people on purpose, and little by little you think he's believing you.

"We, we have to go find everyone else," Yuuji says. His voice is drier if that's possible and his eyes feel so sunken, they don't feel like Yuuji. You don't hold that against him, he just went through a traumatic experience and obviously he isn't going to be the same boy you're used to.

Your shoulder is wet, and Yuuji's blood is staining your back. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Yuuji nods. Though it doesn't feel all the way true, it doesn't feel fake either. You press a tiny peck on his cheek, showing him a smile to let him know that he isn't alone.

As long as you were there with him, he'll never be alone.

"Fushiguro is... is [Name] still alive?" Itadori asks, sitting across from Yuta, divided by their makeshift fireplace.

Fushiguro averts his eyes with a guilty look on his face as he shakes his head.

"Oh."

Itadori Yuuji is alone.

He's lost his best friend, Nobara, his mentor (practically his father), Nanamin, Todo lost his technique because of him, and now, he's lost the one person who he truly felt like he could fall back on.

The one person who saw him at his lowest, and somehow brought him back from that.

"Oh."

He's alone.

And he genuinely doesn't know how he can cope without the help of his lover, his [Name].

#ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 — ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴ' ᴍᴀɴɢᴀ #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #itadori yuuji #sukuna ryomen #itadori x reader #yuuji x reader #x male reader #male reader #jjk x male reader #jjk x gn!reader #itadori x gn reader #yuuji x gn reader #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #x gn reader #gn reader #angst #⋆｡𖦹 — ​ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ​ #010

[bonobonoyaatheart]

Bottling up- Lee Minho

Summary: Acting cool and tough makes Minho bottle up his feelings. One day everything becomes too much, pushing him into a panic attack.

Genre: Angst, hurt-comfort

Pairing: Idol Minho x gn Reader

Trigger warning: Description of panic attack. Do not read if you feel uncomfortable with such topics.

Word count: 1398

Minho had this way of strutting around, acting all confident and throwing out sassy remarks like they were confetti. But beyond that outer shell of his, you saw something more, something softer and real.

"Minho, seriously, you're such a show-off," you playfully jabbed, rolling your eyes.

He shot back a grin, "Hey, if I've got it, might as well flaunt it, right?"

Being the main dancer in Stray kids wasn't just about the dance moves. He was like the glue that held the group together, always there to catch the others when they stumbled emotionally. He had this knack for making sure everyone was okay, and it earned him the title of the "mom" of the gang. But now, with a comeback on the horizon, he was bearing a weight he kept hidden from view.

"Felix, you got it right. Minho's like our safety net," you chimed in, nodding.

Minho brushed it off with a shrug, "Well, someone's gotta keep these guys from crashing, right?"

The pressure of making the comeback a hit was getting to him, yet he masked it with his usual bravado. He didn't want to add his concerns to the plate of his younger pals. He'd been their strong anchor for so long, and he kept that role going even when he was crumbling inside.

"Hey, Minho, are those nerves I see about the comeback?" you asked when you finally caught him alone.

He hesitated, eyes shifting. "Nah, just want us to bring our A-game, you know?"

His role as the group's "mom" meant he soaked up the stress of the others like a sponge. He was the guy they leaned on, even if it meant he had to suppress his own feelings. And there you were, far away, unable to be there for him in person. But even from a distance, you could feel his struggles like a distant thunderstorm.

Your phone buzzed one day, and it was Chan on the line. His voice carried a mix of worry and relief as he talked about Minho's charade of strength while he was barely holding it together.

"Y/N, I'm really glad you picked up," Chan said, his voice a mix of tension and concern. "Minho's putting up a front, but he's really struggling. I don't want him to bear this alone."

You assured Chan that you'd be there for Minho. You changed your plans and decided to head back sooner than expected, all for the sake of being there for him. As you boarded the plane, you couldn't help but think about Minho's fake smiles and snarky comments that hid his stress.

"Chan, don't worry. I've got Minho's back," you affirmed, determination clear in your tone.

The closer the plane got to its destination, the more your heart raced. You knew he needed you, and you were ready to be his anchor through this storm. The plane touched down, and as you stepped off, a surge of determination mixed with worry washed over you – you were there for Minho, no matter what.

"Jeongin! Can't you get this? This is such a simple move! You guys are messing up this choreography!" Minho gripped his hair in frustration. He had been overly hard on the members today, as if he were channeling his stress onto them.

Hyunjin stepped in, placing a hand on Minho's shoulder. "Hyung, they are doing really good. Not everyone can be 'Lee Know the dance genius'. You're expecting too much; everyone has their limits." Minho sighed, "Let's move on to the next part."

Hours had passed, and the choreography was almost perfect and satisfactory for everyone, but Minho couldn't shake off his concern about the 'almost'. He kept practicing until he was certain it was the best.

The pent-up stress, pressure, and negative emotions were taking a toll on him. His limbs were shaky, and he struggled to execute the dance correctly. He found himself making more mistakes than before, which only added to his frustration. Bangchan had been observing this all along.

"Hey, I think you should rest a little. Take a break, or you'll make even more mistakes," Bangchan stopped Minho. Minho closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Suddenly, he felt an urge to keep his eyes shut. His mind went blank, and he struggled to catch his breath. Bangchan held him tightly in his arms, his own heart racing with internal panic.

Changbin rushed to Chan's side. Holding Minho from other side, while Bangchan tried to make Minho breathe. Within a few seconds, everyone had gathered. They guided him to the couch. Chan turned Minho's face toward him. "Minho, can you hear me? You need to breathe. Open your eyes and look at me." No response. Minho clenched his eyes shut, burying his face in his knees.

His breaths were shallow. "Open your eyes; let us help you, hyung. Please breathe..." Felix's voice carried more worry than ever. "Isn't y/n returning today? Should I make a call?" "Yes, she should be landing around this time," Hyunjin replied. Seungmin wasted no more time and dialed your number

"Hyung, I'm genuinely sorry if I talked too much earlier. I'm sorry if it hurt you," Hyunjin apologized, his guilt for snapping earlier evident in his voice. 'Hyung… at least look up,' horror and pain tinged Jisung's words. Jeongin brought water, but it was nearly impossible for Minho to take even a single sip. Jeongin held Minho's hands, tracing his thumb over his palms as an attempt to help him.

'Y/n! We need you here so badly. Minho has been under a lot of stress, and now he's having a panic attack. He won't let any of us in. He's built his walls too rigidly. Please come here.' Seungmin's plea was urgent. 'I'll be there in a few minutes,' you replied before hanging up and accelerating your drive.

"Finally! Y/n will be here in a few minutes," Seungmin announced. However, Minho's condition hadn't improved. He seemed on the verge of tears, yet he wasn't allowing himself to break down.

Several minutes passed, with everyone doing their best to break through the walls Minho had erected around himself. Then, you arrived at the practice room door. "Gosh, you're here!" Felix breathed a sigh of relief.

You hurried to Minho's side, gently wrapping your arms around him, and motioned for the members to leave. This time, it was just you and him.

You cradled him and whispered in his ear, "It's okay, baby. I've got you. Just breathe. I'm going to be right here." He opened his eyes and looked at you. You could swear you had never seen him more miserable than this. "Breathe, baby. Breathe with me." He inhaled shakily as you cupped his cheeks, caressing his jaw with your thumb. "I... I'm sorry," he mumbled, still trembling.

You pressed your lips to his forehead. "It's okay, baby. You don't have to apologize." You held him close to your chest. "It's okay to cry." His glassy eyes locked with yours for a moment, and then he buried his face in your chest. He sobbed and cried, his tears dampening your shirt.

He clutched your shirt tightly and pulled you closer, as though you were his sole anchor. Minho's every sob and shaky breath tore at your heart. It was evident that he had been grappling with his suffering for far too long, keeping it all bottled up. He pressed his face into your chest, his sobs a soft lament.

Suddenly, he withdrew slightly, his gaze shifting to your shirt, now messy and damp from his tears and runny nose. Fear clouded his eyes, and his breaths remained shallow, a lingering aftermath of the panic he'd felt.

Your heart ached at the sight before you. His eyes were red and swollen, a testament to the everything he had endured. "It's okay, honey. This is nothing. Don't worry," you reassured him, drawing him into a warm embrace. Gradually, his breathing found a steadier rhythm as he rested in your arms. You let him linger there, providing the solace he needed.

Minho's eyelids fluttered open. He stared at you, gratitude shining in his eyes. "Are you feeling better now?" You asked him softly. He nodded. "I don't know what I would do without you," he mumbled. "You don't even need to imagine that, baby. I'm here every time you need someone to lean on. You will always have me."

The members watched the two of you from the doorway, glad that Minho had found comfort in your presence.

A/N: Reblog and share if you like, and let me know what you think about this!

#kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #skz scenarios #lee minho x reader #skz x reader #minho x reader #lee know x reader #lee know angst #stray kids x you #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #stray kids #lee know #skz #skz angst #lee know fanfic #lee know imagines #skz imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines

[callsign-dexter]

The Sibling Connection

Summary: Now 23 and 38 the Bradshaw siblings come back to Miramar and see an old face. Feelings come up and surprises are revealed.

Pairings: Bradley Bradshaw x Sister!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, very inaccurate military talk, and timing

Masterlist

First Installment- Brotherly Love

Second Installment- The Sibling Connection

A/N: Italics mean that they are up in the air or getting ready to be up in the air.

Y/N wasn't at The Hard Deck when her brother arrived; this is due to her being fresh out of flight school and now officially a pilot. She had just been at her base in Fallon, Nevada for 3 days when she was told she would be helping out at Top Gun for a secret mission. She exceeded all of her training but then again what do you expect when you have an uncle that is the Commander of the US Pacific Fleet and taught you everything to know about flying?

When Y/N turned 18 she applied to the Naval Academy but first talked with her brother about it. He wanted her to chase her dreams and so he helped her even though he didn't get in, he wasn't gonna hold her back like Maverick did to him. He supported her the entire time. She kept him updated with everything and also Maverick too but it was mostly about her and not Bradley, per his request, and she respected that. When she told Bradley that she wanted to fly he was ecstatic, when she told him she wanted to fly the F-35B he was a little disappointed it wasn't a F/A-18E Super Hornet but didn't make her switch, they even joke about it and play fight. 

The next day when everyone showed up to class, Bradley looked around for his sister but she wasn't there and he frowned slightly. He really didn't pay attention to what was going on but he was listening.

"Attention on deck!" Someone said and everyone scooted their chairs back and stood at attention as Warlock and Cyclone. 

"Morning." Warlock said and everyone sat down "Welcome to your special training detachment. Be seated. I’m Admiral Bates, NAWDC commander. You’re all top gun graduates. The elite. The best of the best. That was yesterday. The enemy’s new fifth-generation fighter has leveled the playing field. Details are few, but you can be sure we no longer possess the technological advantage. Success, now more than ever, comes down to the man or woman in the box. Half of you will make the cut. One of you will be named mission leader. The other half will remain in reserve. Your instructor is a top gun graduate with real-world experience in every mission aspect you will be expected to master. His exploits are legendary. And he’s considered to be one of the finest pilots this program has ever produced. What he has to teach you may very well mean the difference between life and death. I give you Captain Pete Mitchell. Call sign: “Maverick.” Warlock finished as Maverick walked up the aisle and Bradley's frown deepened. 

"Good morning. The f-18 natops. It contains everything they want you to know about your aircraft. I’m assuming you know the book inside and out." Maverick said Bradley was listening but wasn't happy about Maverick teaching him. Oh how he wished his sister would show up.

"Damn right." Jake said and another person said "Damn straight."

"You got it. So does your enemy." Maverick said threw the book into the trash.

"And we’re off." Warlock said

"But what the enemy doesn’t know is your limits. I intend to find them, test them, and push beyond. Today we’ll start with what you only think you know. You show me what you’re made of." Maverick continued "Before we continue Cyclone has something he wants to add." He said and took a step away and to the side as Cyclone walked up.

"Since this mission is dangerous and high stakes, we are bringing in another pilot. She will be flying the F-35 but will not be running the mission with you but will be training with you. She will be back up in the skies only and will take off with everyone else. She will assist if she needs to." Cyclone said and Bradley could feel his smirk, mood lightening, and sitting up straighter. "She has exceeded her training and has graduated early from pilot training and is now a stealth pilot. Everyone, I would like you to meet Lieutenant Y/N Bradshaw. Call sign: Sparhawk." Cyclone said as you reached the front and turned. You smiled and waved at the rest and then your eyes turned onto Bradley who had a smirk on his face and you smiled back at him.

Everyone was dismissed. Y/N was already out by her F-35. She would be going up with every hop to pose as another enemy along with Maverick. She saw Bradley get stopped by Maverick but wasn't able to hear anything. Bradley walked away from Maverick and came up to her. 

"Took you long enough." He said playfully and she laughed and smiled.

"I wanted it to be a surprise." She told him which is true he knew she was coming but just not when. He smiled and shook his head.

"You haven't changed one-bit little sis." Bradley said.

"I haven't but you have." She shot back she missed the playful banter. He just smirked.

"If you need anything. Let me know." He told her and she nodded her head.

"You got it, bro. Be safe up there." She said and turned to get up in her jet.

"You too sis." He replied and headed to his own jet. 

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The training was going well. Each hop was different from the last since each pilot had different flying skills. Y/N stayed unseen which was doable since she had a jet that was almost completely invisible from radar. There were a few times that she had freaked out the others by flying right next to them and they didn't even know. She especially liked to freak out Jake. 

It had been when Jake, Natasha, and Bob were up for one of the hops. Jake was looking over at the other two and that's when Y/N silently flew up next to him. Both Natasha and Bob were smirking.

"What are the two of you smirking at?" Jake asked and they said nothing but Y/N's voice came into the comms.

"Why don't you look to your left, Bagman." She said with a smirk on her face and you could hear it. He looked to his left and saw her there and he jerked his jet to the right and almost hit Natasha and Bob but he corrected it before he crashed. 

"Geez, Spawhawk. Where did you come from?" He asked, "You almost gave me a heart attack." He continued and she laughed. 

"I've been here for at least 10 minutes." She said with a smirk on her face. 

"Warning next time would be nice." He said and she laughed.

"That would beat the purpose of it being a stealth jet." She responded back with sass. They didn't get to speak much longer because Maverick's voice came on the comms. 

"Ok enough chit chatting. Sparhawk, time to start." Maverick said and she nodded even though he couldn't see it. 

"You got it Mav." She said and dropped her speed and seamlessly disappeared but in reality she just dropped down below the other jets and let them speed past her. She flew to Mav and settled right next to him. They decided to make the others sweat and they switched to private communication. 

"So an F-35?" Maverick asked her and she smiled though he couldn't see it. 

"Yea I figured it would be a nice change of pace and I like stealth." She said and he laughed. 

"You sure do. Are you ready to take them down?" He asked her. 

"Absolutely." She replied and off they went. Mav was the distraction while she stealthy came up behind them and toned them. This went on for several hops. 

Bradley was the toughest but eventually he was toned too. When Coyote went into g-loc she thought she was going to have a heart attack along with the bird strike, but in the end everyone was ok. 

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Not much time was given to hang out except when Maverick made time for dogfight football. It was wild and Y/N loved it. She always had a competitive side with Bradley and just in general. Getting to hang out with hot sweaty, shirtless, muscled, 6-pack abs, and sun-kissed skin guys wasn't bad either.  

After Y/N and her team won against Bradley they all sat down to cool off and some even went into the ocean. Bradley came over to her and threw an arm around her and she made a face.

"Bro you're sweaty. Get off of me." She said and pushed him away and he laughed.

"Look who's talking. You're just about as sweaty as I am." He pushed her back and smiled. They eventually stopped and talked until the sun went down and they headed home. What they didn't know was that Maverick was several feet back watching them smiling. He was glad Y/N stayed in touch and sad that Bradley didn't. He was surprised that she went into the Navy but couldn't blame her. 

Everyone left the beach and headed home to continue the next day. Then they were off to do the mission and come home, safely.

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The time has come for the mission. Everyone was nervous but ready for it. Maverick picked his team and Y/N was shocked when Bradley's name was called and her stomach dropped. She already knew she would be going but she feared for her brother. They all started to go out towards their jets when Cyclone stopped her.

"Lt. Bradshaw, stay back for a few seconds." She stopped and turned to look at him as the other left and Bradley gave her a questioning look. He also stopped Maverick before he left  "Captain Mitchell a word." He said as he was getting ready to leave.

"What can we do for you?" Maverick asked and then Warlock walked up to them.

"We have decided to send Lt. Bradshaw out before the Daggers." Both Maverick and Y/N were shocked, this was not the plan.

 "Captain Mitchell, you will still be leading the Daggers. Once everyone gets to the opening of the mountain, Lt. Bradshaw will drop out and do air control." They both were silent as Warlock spoke about the change of plans.

"Understood." Both of them said.

"Dismissed." Cyclone said and both Cyclone and Warlock walked out of the room followed by Maverick and Y/N, but not before looking at each other. 

When they got to their jets and Maverick and Bradley talked, Bradley walked up to his sister. "What was that about?" He asked.

"You know I'm not allowed to say. It's just the plans have changed. You'll see once we get up in the air." She said and he nodded but he could tell that she was nervous, they could always tell when something was up with the other it was just the sibling connection they shared. The announcement came on telling them that they were ready to launch. They hugged each other. "I love you, big brother." She said and he hugged her tighter.

"I love you too little sis." He replied and then let go of her and they went and got in their jets getting ready to take off. 

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They had Y/N's jet taxi to the catapult and she could feel the eyes of her teammates on her. They would be asking questions later. "Safety Dagger up and ready." She said into her comms. They gave her the go and the shooter gave the command and she shot off the deck and into the sky. Once she was far enough away they gave the ok for the other Daggers. She could hear Maverick talking but wasn't paying attention. She was on the lookout for bandits but found none. She saw the missiles fly above her and once the opening of the canyon, she dropped down and let the now-in-formation Daggers go ahead of her. She broke right and went around the mountain monitoring the skies. 

She was far enough away from the mountains but still close enough. As she was monitoring the skies she came across one of the bandits. "Safety Dagger this Comanche. You have a bandit at 3 o'clock." She looked at her radar and so behold there it was.

"Comanche, this is Safety Dagger. Copy that. Will not engage unless need to." She said into her comms.

"Copy that Safety Dagger." Comanche said. Everything was going smoothly until they spotted her and it was game on. 

"Comanche bandit is engaging, Safety Dagger is responding." She said.

"Copy, Safety Dagger." They said to her, she dropped her speed and dropped altitude. She was trying to disappear from their radar and it was working. 

She got behind them and got tone but she was still far enough away from them they couldn't see her. She got closer and they panicked and started to try to lose her. Each move they made she made. "Can't shake me. Our jets are practically the same." She said to herself. "Oh you're good but I'm better." She said and after a few minutes and a few missile shots and gunshots, she got the final tone and shot, taking them down. Her 1st confirmed kill. She still has a lot of ammo left. She had this feeling that something was right and boy was she right when she started to hear all the commotion going on and then Maverick went down and her heart dropped. She saw Natasha, Bob, Mickey, and Javy emerge but not Bradley. She flew up beside them. "Where is my brother?" She asked any of them but they remained silent "Answer me." She almost growled. 

"He went back for Mav." Bob finally said and boy was she angry. She quickly pulled her jet to the left and headed towards where they were last. When Cyclone came over the comms 

"Safety Dagger, return to the ship." He said and she was pissed.

"What's the point of a Safety Dagger if it's not going to protect the fellow Daggers?" She replied and Cyclone knew she was right and she might be in trouble but be damn with it. 

"Safety Dagger you are clear to proceed." Cyclone said and she nodded and proceeded to her brother. She flew around but couldn't see them. She practically growled. "Safety Dagger, report." He said. 

"Plane wreckage but not shoots or bodies." She said looking through the bottom of the plane thanks to her extremely up to date technology helmet. She then saw an F-14 on the runway and knew it was them but didn't say anything. She didn't want to alert the enemies. 

The F-14 took off and was in the sky. Once far enough away from the base she flew up beside them scaring the crap out of them. But once they saw she was friendly they were relieved. "Thought I would never see you again boys." She said into the comms. Bradley laughed. 

"What made you come looking for us?" He asked.

"Let's call it the sibling connection kicked in. I knew that you were still alive and I wasn't about to not help." She said to her brother and pseudo father. 

"Well, I'm glad it's still working. Let's go home." He said and that is exactly what they did but not before running into several bandits. They put up a good fight. Y/N could give them that but she had a jet of the same technology as them. She broke away from them and took off after the 3rd bandit and they watched her in a dogfight, and they were impressed, while they were fighting off on their own. They quickly got rid of their first one and they watched her take down the 3rd one, which was behind her but she shot a missile and it shot out but it went up and behind her hitting the 3rd bandit, they were impressed, confirming her 2nd kill. The second bandit was now chasing Maverick and Bradley through the canyon but she had another problem, a 4th bandit showed up and she was in another dogfight.

Y/N and the 4th bandit were chasing each other just as soon as she took down the bandit, Bradley and Maverick came back without the bandit and knew they would be ok. The 4th bandit was her 3rd confirmed kill. A 5th bandit showed up and Maverick and Bradley were out of ammo she put up a fight for them as they tried to invade and damaged the bandit but soon ran out of ammo.

Just as soon as they thought they were done for the plane that was in front of them but now behind them, after turning avoiding gunshots, them blew up and Jake came out of the smoke. "Good afternoon, ladies and gentleman, this is your savior speaking. Please fasten your seat belts, return the tray tables to their locked an upright positions and prepare for landing." Jakes voice came through the comms.

'Hangman , you're looking good." Bradley said

"I am good, Rooster. I'm very good." Jake said to him being the cocky son of a bitch that he was. They all headed back to the ship, first Jake then Y/N, and then finally Maverick and Bradley. Once Bradley and Maverick crashed landed they got out of the plane and everyone cheered.

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Once they debriefed and got onto solid ground everyone gathered at The Hard Deck, except Cyclone, Warlock, and Maverick. They all chatted about and making plans for their well deserved team when Y/N silently slipped out on to the deck and looked out over to the ocean. Her brother noticed the absence of his sister and went out to her. He slung an arm around her shoulders and she leaned into his embrace. "Warlock tells me that you have now 3 confirmed kills." and she smiled and nodded.

"That would be correct." She said and he smiled.

"I'm proud of you. I know it was hard to take a life. Mom, Dad, and Uncle Ice would be so proud of you too." He said a laid a kiss to her hair. They heard the others cheering but didn't pay attention to it they were enjoying their sibling time together.

"You're right it wasn't easy but it was necessary." She said. Maverick walked out onto the deck and joined them smiling at them before walking up beside them.

"You missed the announcement." He told them. Bradley and Maverick were working on their relationship it would take time to heal but it was going in the right direction. They both looked at him.

"Oh?" Y/N asked as Bradley spoke up. "What's that?" Bradley asked at the same time.

"Yes. I just got out of a meeting with Cyclone and Warlock. They have decided to make this squad a permanent one. He also said that Y/N will also train and learn to fly the F/A-18E Super Hornet." Maverick said to the both and they all smiled. No words were needed. They all looked out into the ocean and setting sun.

Bradley hugged his little sister tighter and dropped another kiss to her head. Y/N leaned further into her brother enjoying the warmth from him and the familiar scent that she had grown up with. Maverick looked out into the sunset just thinking that Goose and Carole were up there smiling and begin glad that they had him in their life, even though there was rough patches. Occasionally Maverick would look at them and smile. He was glad they were together again and they were safe.

Bradley and Y/N truly did share the sibling connection. Now they don't have to be away from each other. Now Bradley could protect his little sister from guys, especially guys like Jake and Jake. Y/N had her big brother and pseudo father right there when she needed someone to go to when things get rough. The family was back together again.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx20

#bradley bradshaw x sister!reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun x reader #top gun fan fiction #top gun fanfic #top gun fic #top gun fandom #top gun imagines #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #nick bradshaw x daughter!reader #carole bradshaw x daughter!reader #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick imagines

[glorianamultistan]

Park Chanyeol x Male Reader

<Part 1> <Part 3>

'You are such a fine specimen y/n; no wonder Duke never turned over to look at us even when we flaunted ourselves voluptuously.' 'To deny the chance of becoming a consort to the crown for this, hmm, must be some witchcraft.' 'I never really liked visiting you all because of this, you might be the heir to the throne, and you might be beautiful, but that doesn't mean anyone would just let their guards down and be with you.'

'Forgetting all the manners are we now?' 'Not really Sohee, I rank as equal as you; you and Suyung both are princesses and I am a prince, I expect nothing but respect for the orders we represent.'

Meeting the princesses was tiring; the constant remarks and counter-attacks had y/n feeling as if he had himself trapped in a pathetic tragicomedy rather than a few days hosting at a castle.

Chanyeol was often out and about leaving y/n with the princesses, and it was getting hard to control his nerves as the days went by. One night, on his routine night visit Chanyeol found y/n sitting on the bed staring at the wall with dried-up tear stains on his cheeks and the yellowish pages of the book he had opened in his lap.

'I don't remember the palace being so ghastly as to push you to the limits.' He went ahead and sat where he regularly did, on the chair beside the dressing mirror, facing the bed.

'I am tired.' 'Your royal highness, I will leave at once if you say so.' He got up and almost left when y/n whispered 'Please, don't.'

Chanyeol turns, shocked, rather bewildered, and caught off guard. This was a new tone he was hearing; he looked over y/n still in bed, looking down at his lap, still as if he was a part of the whole furniture.

Chanyeol went back and made himself comfortable; at least he tried to do so; while y/n put the book at the side table and took a sip out of the glass that had been there for some time now.

'Are you not well? You can skip the gatherings tomorrow and rest; there is no need to over-exert yourself.' 'I am tired.' Y/n repeated, in an even lower voice than before. 'The princesses and their cousins are tiring; at least I had my brother before to accompany me so they were all mostly around him. Now, I am all alone and their remarks never stop. Is this why you brought me here? To leave me all day long to suffer through comments as if I had done something wrong. I never even wanted to marry you. You could have had the heir to the throne here. Why did you do this to me? And why do you never accompany me while I am with them?'

'I...' Chanyeol was at a loss for words; he never thought that the prince would break down in front of him like this. He never really wished for it too. He got up and slowly went to the bed as if approaching a sparrow in the wild; he knelt down on the carpet, near y/n while observing the younger.

'I am sorry. I had no idea that they were going to treat you like this. I thought that since you always visited the palace you all must be good friends. I have to attend the training of the main army heads daily here that is why I am never able to be here. I am sorry. And, I married you because I liked you, I never liked the princesses, I know my ways to procure you were rash, but morality never really worked in favour of love and war did it? I am really, deeply, religiously, devoted to you; if you command me right now, I will behead the princesses, their cousins, and all those who made you cry like this and run away with you to your home and fight if they come for you.' He was already standing with his sword in his hand and that was the moment y/n realised that this man was beyond understanding.

Doing so much harm, on one command of someone, no one should be allowed to wield such powers, yet here, in the middle of the night, in an isolated wing of a palace, y/n sat looking into Chanyeol's eyes directly after weeks, feeling a rush of emotions indescribable.

'You are not a very intelligent person are you, Chanyeol?' A comic relief, his name, uttered by y/n with a smile full of twinkling eyes. Y/n realised later that he called the other by name and looked down again, 'Sit on the bed, then talk, I feel uncomfortable like this.'

Chanyeon went on and sat on the opposite side of the bed looking over y/n with determined eyes, 'I am not joking, I will do it all if you want it and if that will make you leave your gloom behind.' 'You will do no such thing. Hearing such declarations are ghastly enough for me; you should know how much I hate violence.' 'Then what should I do!? Please your royal highness tell me. I will do it, just say it.' Chanyeol was eager and looked more like a big dog waiting for command than a general of the army.

'Take me home.' Y/n whispered looking up to meet Chanyeol's eyes. 'Okay, we can leave for your kingdom right now, I will take you and your luggage can be sent later.' Chanyeol got up and before he could move y/n said 'I - I meant Sandria, not that.' Y/n was trying to avoid the bulging eyes of the general and trying to calm the heat rising in his body. 'What!?' 'I meant take me to Sandria, I miss Lady Park.'

It took a whole awkward minute of silence for y/n to repeat it 'Can we go?' 'Yes!' Chanyeol almost screamed and shocked y/n, again, more happy dog than a general.

So they left, in the night, without their luggage, just the two of them on a single horse. It took them two days and in between Chanyeol stopped at grand inns and was welcomed warmly by the owners, but what surprised y/n was how kind they all were to him, often too kind and reminding him of Lady Park.

They took one room throughout the journey as they were married so to avoid any rumours they had to take such measures, but Chanyeol never slept in the bed; he was always on the sofa, half asleep, half guarding as the threat on the prince was ever looming.

When they reached, Lady Park was not surprised; she got the letter from the palace beforehand; rather she was inquisitive as to why they cut their stay short and why did they not take the train?

'Oh I am sorry Lady Park, I was just uncomfortable at the palace and missed this place so I asked Chanyeol to bring me back, and I never really had the chance to roam the country, outside the manors and abbeys and castles, so I asked him to take the horse, also there was no train available that instant.'

'Oh y/n, please do not worry, I am rather happy that you are back; it gets lonely here without anyone to talk to except the butler and the other servants.'

Chanyeol was shocked again to hear his name from y/n's mouth utter so casually; he did not want to point it out to the other but wanted so bad to ask him to use it more. On his part, he still could not muster up the courage to use y/n's name; it feels — ironically, after doing it all wrong — it feels disrespectful.

'I will go to the room and change up, then I will meet you in the library.' With that y/n was gone.

'Why did you not insist on waiting and taking the train!?' Lady Park asked his son with a bit more hint of anger than he thought he would be facing.

'I did! But he wanted to leave instantly. I had no choice.' 'What did you do now that he left the palace like this to come back?' Before Chanyeol could answer Lady Park led him to the library and motioned him to sit as if starting an official inquiry.

'I? How can I do something in the palace that would make him run away from there? And runaway back to my house? Make it make sense mother.' He should not be acting this sassy to her but he wanted to point out the absurdity of the blame.

'Then what happened? I am sure the palace was more comfortable than here.' 'Well, do not talk to him about it please, he will tell you if he would like you to know, but I guess you are so stuck up with rituals that he would not want to portray a bad image of your future queen to you.'

'What?' 'Yes, he was crying, apparently both the princesses and their cousins always passed remarks and comments about him and other stuff, you know, stuck-up royals. He told me his brother was good at handling them but he was more sensitive to all of this so it hurt him a lot. I asked him to command anything that could be done to make him feel better, and he asked me to bring him back, so on my word, I did, also dearest mum he said he missed you.'

"I cannot believe that such behaviour is sanctioned by our King and Queen. They must be doing it as a jest but if it hurt him so much then it is unacceptable." "Well, you know how they are still pent up about me not marrying anyone of them." "It would have solved so many problems and there would have been no useless war." "Mother, you make it sound like I marrying someone for such reasons will result in a long-lasting relationship." "What about you and the prince then? He married you to end the whole show of gore bloody circus you started! Do you think he is happy here and not half as miserable as you would have been!?"

There was an uncomfortable silence, Ldy Park had such a moment after months, Chanyeol thought she was over it, but all this talk flared her up again.

"Mom, you know..." "What!? You love him!? That!? Please, I am still so ashamed that my son really went out to kidnap someone, that too a prince, at the cost of innocent lives, all the facade which you have created around this seemingly happy, working-out relationship disgusts me to the very core. I am here only for his sake, as I cannot trust you to be with him alone here, otherwise, I would have left for the dower house months ago."

Now, Lady Park was not only angry, she was in tears, all of this built up inside her while the young couple was away. She has been keeping up her smiles around the prince but after getting to know about the incident at the palace and her son's justification for not marrying any one of the princesses, she was not able to control herself.

"Enough, I will have the rest of my life to be blaming you, we mustn't make a fuss over it all when he comes down, at least he should get comfort somewhere."

P.S.:- If you liked it, you can support me by buying me a coffee; link's on my page.

#kpop x male reader #male reader #gay #gaypop #fanfiction #bottom male reader #kpop x male reader smut #exo x male reader #exo #park chanyeol x male reader #chanyeol x male reader #fragments of my mind #kpopidol #kpopgay #kpop fluff #kpop

[addicted-to-dc]

Jason Todd/Arkham Knight X AFAB!Reader - Ghosts (Final)

Warnings: Smut (18+), angst, swearing. Wrap it before you tap it, friends.

Word Count: 2.8k

Entangling yourself in the rafters of a warehouse, you watch from a distance as militiamen haul equipment from underground tunnels. You have to give it to the Knight, he has his ass covered when it comes to staying under the Bat’s radar.

You did as he requested, covering up every single loose end that would catch Batman’s eye. It scares you how quickly you changed over the course of six months, but you can’t blame yourself. The Arkham Knight left you alone after setting fire to your world. Unfortunate witnesses were disposed of without hesitation, your body was pushed beyond its limits, and your tech was further developed to ensure you would never lose your edge again. The Knight may have caught you in his web, but you will make sure that you survive.

His presence could be felt everywhere. The Knight left, but you know he has eyes and ears on you. It’s a risky choice to bring an unknown factor into his fragile plan. You’ve guarded his secrets, going so far as to manipulate Batman into avoiding any loose ends that could risk exposure. You’re sure that came at a cost, your anonymity crumbling as you put your ghostly status on the line for the sake of the Knight’s plan.

Huffing, you maneuver yourself towards the exit, sick of watching the militia filtering in like ants. Slipping out of the building, you move to the roof of the building and sigh. It’s a cold night. One that’s just the right temperature to sink its freezing claws right through your armor. An upgrade for some type of heater would be nice, but it would defeat the purpose of being uncomfortable in this uniform.

The design is similar to your previous ones, but it’s significantly more offensive. You can’t even remember how you survived like that, a nobody that relied on being unseen. That night 6 months ago scared the shit out of you, but you guess death staring you in the face shifted your priorities. You were just as unaware as Gotham is right now, oblivious to the bigger threat until it sideswipes you and everything you built yourself to be.

Your head twitches as you hear a quiet thud as someone lands behind you. You’re thankful that you gave yourself a 360 degree feed of your surroundings, or else you’d whip around cluelessly to see who it is. No, it’s not Batman, but it’s another presence that you’ve been dreading. You turn around.

He hasn’t changed one bit. Your heartbeat quickens as soon as you see him with your own eyes, his hulking figure growing closer and closer. It’s like a game of cat and mouse, and you’re sure he’s stalking towards you like you’re his prey. He closes the distance between you, the glowing eyes from his helmet burning into yours.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be here,” you say, glad that your helmet disguised the shakiness of your voice.

You lean back against the railing, holding eye contact as he leans forward. His armor clinks against yours. The biting cold disappears as his body heat spreads over you. A shiver threatens to crawl up your spine, but you manage to keep it at bay. Gods, he’s been gone for 6 months and you can’t even keep it together the second he’s back.

“I wanted to talk,” he states, his eyes moving out to look at the city. “There’s been a change in plans.”

You push yourself away from the railing, unsure how this conversation will continue, “Don’t tell me you’re cutting me out. I’ve done everything that you’ve asked without question.”

“And you will be rewarded for that,” he replies, turning to look at you, “but Batman is mine alone to face. I need you to do something else when everything goes down, something crucial.”

You fold your arms, the cold sinking its claws into you once again, “What’s so crucial to remove me from the fight? What has changed?”

“You,” he responds.

You tilt your head, unsure what response will follow.

“You sacrificed a lot to protect this,” he says, gesturing to the building below. “Batman is catching onto you, and I can’t risk connecting you to us. This fight is not worth your secrecy.”

“This fight,” you spit, “has become everything to me. You can’t-”

“I can't do what?” the Knight asks, stepping into your space once again.

You glare at him, “Batman is going to die, why are you so set on preventing something that won’t even matter? Getting cold feet?”

His hand immediately wraps around your throat, lifting you from the ground as he pulls you closer to his face. Your helmets knock together from the impact. Your arms move to push yourself away, free yourself from his grasp, but he doesn’t budge.

“Struck a nerve?” you choke out, “Good, we’re both feeling like shit.”

You struggle against his grip once again, your legs flailing to ruin his balance.  He slightly struggles to keep you close, allowing you to stand. His hands remain fastened to your neck, yet his grip loosens. The cold weather is long forgotten as your heart beats too damn fast. You can’t help but chuckle, your feelings mixed as he ignites something in you. It’s the spark that he stole from you six months ago.

The endless void that consumed you all these months is finally satiated as soon as he presses the release on his helmet, the mask lifting up to reveal that face that’s taunted you in your dreams. Your helm is next, the cold air burning against your heated face.

You finally allow yourself to see him as Jason, not the Arkham Knight. His sunken, but fiery eyes take you in. His spare hand slowly travels down your back, pushing you against him. A slight gasp escapes your mouth, your eyes wandering all over his face for some type of hint at what he’s planning to do with you. He angles your head, almost as if he’s considering snapping your neck, but he leans in and forcefully molds his lips to yours.

Your eyes flutter as the months of tension finally melt away, your hands grasping the edges of his armor plating as if it’s your lifeline. The hand around your neck slips away, moving to stabilize your back. Jason pulls you even closer, nearly crushing whatever air supply you have left.

You’re the one to pull away, staring into his eyes as your hand moves to grasp his chin, “What do you want, Jason?”

“You,” he responds, your helmets knocking together as he tries to kiss you again. “It’s always been you.”

Leaning forward, you scrape your helm against his, “You’re going to have to try and get me first.”

Sweeping underneath his legs, Jason falls to the ground as you run for the railing. You flip over it, closing your faceplate as you fall. Aiming your grappling hook, you gracefully use your momentum to launch yourself towards your nearest safe house. You run across the side of the building as you aim once again, flipping onto the nearest rooftop.

Maybe it was a little childish to run away like that, but the look on his face made it worth it. Jason will catch you, you’ll make sure of it, but you want to make him work for it. Laughing, you take the most complicated route you can muster, taking so many twists and turns it nearly confuses you. Your display warns you he’s close, following close behind. He’s almost as terrifying as the night that you first encountered him, but this isn’t the Arkham Knight chasing you. Jason Todd is many things, but he’s not a patient man.

You silently sprint over Gotham citizens that have no clue what’s about to happen, just going about their daily lives as more weapons and men are brought in by the day.

Once you’ve finally reached your destination, you input a command. Your window slides open, allowing you to slip right in without breaking the damned thing. Out of breath, you keep the lights off and wait for him to enter the room. He’s only a few seconds behind you and nearly breaks the window to get in. Without hesitation he tears his helmet off and tosses it onto a nearby chair.

You do the same as he stalks towards you, knocking it out of your hand as he forces you into the wall behind you. He traps you, pushing his hips forward to press you further into the wall. You curse your armor for its padding, barely feeling a thing as one of his knees slips between your legs. Both of your armor plating scrapes against the other as he finally yanks you in for a kiss. You’re both hungry for each other, finally giving in to the feelings that were buried for half a goddamned year.

“Ja-ay,” you stutter out, gasping as he pins your arms to the wall with one hand.

He glances at the gauntlets on your forearms, allowing one of your arms to escape from his grasp.

“Take it off,” he commands.

His voice makes you shiver, the vibrations running straight to your core. Your fingers reach over to the gauntlet still entrapped in his grasp. You shakily input the code, sighing in relief as your suit unlocks itself. Jason releases your arm.

Your suit loosens around you, your gauntlets and boots whirring open as they unclamp themselves from you. Removing your gloves, you finally place your unclothed hands onto his face. Your fingernails scrape against his face until they’re embedded into his hair. He grunts as he tosses away any stubborn hardware that refuses to fall to the floor. Jason pushes your hands away from him, finally allowing your bodysuit to fall from your frame.

Jason steps back and takes you in, his eyes nearly black as they devour the image of you. You’re left with your binder and underwear, your body exposed to him. He takes a few steps back and sits on your lounge chair.

“Come here,” Jason growls, leaning back into the chair.

You kick off your boots and step out of your suit, slowly stepping towards him. He removes his gloves and tosses them to the side, finally revealing those damn hands that he can’t keep off of you. The veins are visible even from a few feet away, driving you insane. Jason then removes his upper armor, finally letting you see him.

Once you finally get close enough, he pulls you onto his thigh. His thigh holsters drag deliciously across your clit, forcing a gasp out of you. Jason’s fingers dig into your hips, keeping you still. Huffing, you lean forward and dig your hands into his black hair. You let your hands roam as you explore his mouth, breathing heavily as he finally breaks.

Jason grabs your leg and pulls you closer, rutting into you as your teeth clink together. His hands roam your body, tracing each visible scar you’ve accumulated as the Ghost of Gotham. You’re stuck in the light from the window while Jason remains in the shadows, his figure hidden from you.

“You’re pretty bold for someone who’s benching me,” you bite out, moaning as his attention moves to your throat.

He scrapes his teeth against your pulse point, holding you still as his tongue explores your skin, “You’re talkative for a dead woman.”

A laugh escapes your throat, but it soon morphs into a gasp as he finally allows you to grind down on him.

“You need me,” you whisper, your voice wavering as he guides your hips across his bulge. “You’re just too afraid to let me slip between your fingers.”

“Why would I allow that?” Jason asks, pushing himself from the chair and taking you with him. “When I could keep you all to myself? Bedroom?”

“Door to the right,” you respond, wrapping yourself around him tightly as he maneuvers through your safehouse.

He kicks the door open, most likely splintering the wood, but you can’t even give a damn. You’re shoved against the bed, each kiss growing messier and messier until he rips your binder off of you. Your underwear is next as he cuts the fabric with his knife.

You shiver at the cold metal touching your heated skin. Jason drags the blade up, moving from your hips all the way up to your throat. You quiver as the knife stops at your throat, as if he’s considering embedding the metal into your flesh.

“I should kill you for what you said,” he whispers, slamming the knife in the nightstand beside the bed.

“You won’t,” you retort, gasping as his fingers slide into you without warning. “Fuck, you n-need me.”

You stubbornly hold back any noises that threaten to escape your throat. His fingers drag deliciously across your walls, forcing your hand to shoot out and grip his shoulder.

“Tell me you’re going to listen,” he orders, leaning forward to bite the column of your throat. “That you’ll leave Batman to me.”

“Fuck, why would you want to face him without me?” you ask, your voice wavering as he marks your neck.

“That’s not what I asked you to answer,” Jason says darkly, pulling his fingers away from you.

“Tell me why and I’ll consider it,” you snark back, your stubbornness wavering as he unbuckles his belt.

Jason doesn’t answer, only pushing down his tactical pants and boxers before kicking them aside as an answer. He leans forward, stealing another kiss from you before pushing you back into the bed. Without warning, he rolls you over so he’s beneath you. You stabilize yourself and look down on him, his intentions unclear.

“After everything I’ve done for you,” Jason tuts, lifting you hips up before sinking you down on his cock. “I’d expect you to be thankful.”

“What have you done for m-”

He pulls your hips down, forcing you to take him in one thrust. Your mind goes fuzzy, unable to compute anything as a loud moan finally escapes from you. He stays there, watching your resolve fall apart with a smirk. “There’s my thank you,” he chuckles, waiting for you to recollect your thoughts.

His fingers circle around your clit, making your recovery much more difficult. Your body betrays you as your hips start to move, grinding down on him as you finally adjust to his size.

You look down at him, watching every little change his face makes whenever you moved. He’s doing the same, his grip tightening on your hips. You’re sure that there will be bruises all over you by the time the two of you are done. Knowing that it’ll only get you in more trouble to be a brat to him, you lean down and adjust your hand placement.

Jason’s hands abandon your hips to spread your legs even further apart, forcing you to start bouncing on his cock. His hands are back onto your hips, reinforcing each thrust with his own. The two of you set a brutal pace, taking whatever you could from the other until you couldn’t stand it. You’re sure that you’ll have divots where his hands grip onto you.

“Tell me you’re going to obey your orders,” Jason says, abandoning his grip on your waist.

His hands slide up, weaving around your back to pull you closer. He controls the pace from there, dragging it out torturously until you break.

“I’ll obey,” you relent, your climax growing closer and closer as he takes in your answer. “Just- please!”

You melt in his arms as he takes control, thrusting into you like it’s his fucking job. One hand slips up and guides your face to look at him. He watches as you fall apart because of him, how quick your breathing becomes, and how many walls you let fall for the sake of him.

Every little sound and movement you make spurs him on even more, slamming into you at a bruising rate until you finally came. Jason fucks you through it, keeping your shaking form as still as he can until he freezes. He ruts into you as his heavy breathing melds with yours.

He lets you go slack against him and rests his arms over your back. You sigh, closing your eyes. Jason begins ghosting his fingers over your skin, slowly tracing each of your scars. He stops when he traces over a ‘J’ in the upper center of your back. He immediately tenses.

“He got to you, too?” Jason whispers, his grip around you tightens.

You move your hand to his, moving his fingers away from the scar, “Not now, Jason, just… just stay like this for awhile.”

His hands move away, and he sighs, “Okay.”

You relax against him, exhaustion taking over as he continues to trace over the rest of your scars. The knife on the bedstand is all you can focus on, falling asleep to the metal decorated with your blood.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x reader smut #red hood x reader smut #arkham knight x reader #arkham knight x reader smut

[bullet-prooflove]

LittleMouse!Series Part Five: Acts of Violence - Alden Parker x Reader

Tagging: @yezzyyae @neapolitantoebeans @mandy426 @kmc1989

LittleMouse!Series

Don't... - Alden hates what your doing.

Waiting - You leave your ex waiting.

In Sickness & In Health - Alden and your ex sit down to discuss you.

Bordeaux - You come home to an unexpected surprise.

It’s the third time that Alden’s tried to call you tonight and the second time it’s gone directly to voicemail. It gives him a bad feeling because you don’t turn your phone off, not since the night that one of your team members called you in crisis. You’re available to them twenty-four, seven, the same way that he is.

Something’s wrong, he just knows it.  

He breaks the speed limit on the way to your place, it’s a miracle that he doesn’t get pulled over. When the lift takes too long to descend, he takes the stairs instead, two at a time until he reaches your floor. He listens for sounds on the other side of the door before he lets himself in. There’s nothing but silence, which in itself feels ominous. You usually have a little music on when he comes over, you hate the quiet.

When he enters the apartment, the stench of blood hits him almost immediately. There’s a strong copper tang on his tongue and something inside of him just dies because he knows an act of violence has been committed in your home.

The kitchen is in chaos. There’s shattered glass across the tiles, crushed yellow petals from the roses he bought for you the other day scattered amongst the pieces. There’s crimson smears across the shards, the vivid liquid intermingling with the water from the broken vase. Your cellphone lies discarded alongside of it, the screen shattered, it looks like someone stomped on it.

The glass crunches underneath heel of his boot as he withdraws his weapon and approaches the closed French doors that lead to the living room. He catches a flash of movement through the windowpane but the darkness of the room beyond obscures his vision. He’s careful as he uses his fingertips to push down the door handle, nudging his shoulder against the door so it opens.

The living room looks worse than the kitchen. The driftwood coffee table that you adore is in pieces, shards of wood jutting out of the ruined frame. There’s a broken wine bottle decanting Bordeaux onto the rug and a bloody stem from a wine glass cast off onto the sofa. Your books have been torn from the shelf and tossed onto the floor. The door of your gun safe hangs open, almost torn from the hinges.

When he turns his attention to the other side of the room, he doesn’t expect to see you standing there, gun in your hand. It’s pointed at Kristof as he kneels on the floor in front you, his hands cuffed behind his back.

The two of you are a mess. There’s blood streaked through Kristof’s blond hair from the wounds in his scalp. There’s glass amongst the strands, from the vase in the kitchen Alden realises. You must have tried to get to your phone when Kristof had come for you, smashed him in the head. His nose is broken and it’s a bad one, the kind that’s going to result in plastic surgery in the future.

You aren’t in a much better state. Your lip is split, a thin thread of crimson running down your chin, the hollow of your left eye is swollen and bloodshot. There’s a crimson stain blossoming across the white sweater that you’re wearing, the heavy fabric is practically soaked in it. He can guess who got stabbed with the stem from the wine glass.

“Alden.” You say his name with a breathlessness that alarms him. “I need you to take over because I think I’m about to pass out.”

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#alden parker imagine #ncis x reader #alden parker x reader #alden parker x you #alden parker #ncis

[justatalkingface]

The Dabi Benchmark of Insanity: A Helpful Guide

What is it? Why won't I shut up about it whenever I talk about villains?

Yeah; this is largely a reference post, for the people who haven't seen this term before... which makes sense, since I made it the fuck up awhile ago and then never really clarified it again, even though I kept using it. I do that a lot whenever I feel the need, but I think this is the only term I've kept using consistently, and I usually explain what I mean in those posts when I make something up, so the DBI is a bit of an anomaly in that sense. I like to think it's self explanatory, really, so it probably doesn't need explanation, but... eh. I talk a lot. One more post won't hurt.

Fundamentally, the DBI is the idea that there's a... limit to how crazy a character can be and still be sympathetic; after a certain point, it doesn't matter how bad their backstory was, no one is going to like the guy eating babies. Authors can (and often do) try to make a truly fucked up character sympathetic anyways, but once they pass that point the response generally isn't sympathy but, 'JFC, can this guy shut up about how we should all like The Masked Baby-Eater already? That guy's an asshole'.

I say 'crazy' for a reason, BTW. The sheer factual amount of evil deeds a character does only has a limited effect on how readers will consider them; how the character is presented, and how they act as they do these deeds effect that reception as well. An easy example is how in something like Gundam, a character who does something objectively horrible (kill someone, start a war, etc etc), but because of how they're developed, and way they act as they do it, we will still sympathize with them. Meanwhile, if there's a school story, a character who is just rude and cruel can be absolutely loathed, by everyone, even if what they did can't possibly be compared to the Gundam character.

It's not that you can't make a good character if you go beyond this point, it's the opposite really: there's plenty of good, memorable characters who are festering shitholes devoid of positive character traits, but we're not expected to find them sympathetic, just really cool or iconic in some way. Making them sympathetic imposes limits on how out there that character can be.

I call it the 'Dabi' benchmark because I feel like Dabi is the perfect example of an edge case, a person who is horrific and broken, but you can still just feel for him why he's like this. It's core to his fundamental design as a character, from his traumatic backstory, to how he's broken and scarred and barely held together by his sheer will, so that while he's an objectively terrible person, cruel, sadistic, who kills easily and wants only to destroy, the reason he's like that is something intrinsically understandable and thus easy to sympathize with.

(Of course, the problem with Dabi is that, as MHA went on, Hori kept changing Endeavour to try and make him sympathetic, while at times intentionally making Dabi seem more at fault for his situation to mitigate Endeavour's blame, which damaged Dabi's characterization on a fundamental level and makes him less sympathetic... but that's not Dabi's fault, that's inconsistent writing)

At the same time, though, I must repeat that he is a terrible human being who does horrible things, and which puts him at that very edge of sympathy, only being accepted by people by how good his backstory is, how fucked up yet human is motivations ultimately are. If his actions had pushed beyond that point, if, for example, instead of just killing people he cold bloodedly tortured them for no real reason, his reception would have been less positive than it was.

In short? The farther a character goes past the Dabi Benchmark of Insanity, that is to say, the more a character is crazier than Dabi, the more people are going to look at you like you're crazy when you try to make them seem sympathetic to the audience.

#the dabi benchmark of insanity #that feeling when you have to explain your alien homebrew logic to normal people #reference post

[darling-archeron]

Masterlist

On My Mind, In My Heart

Summary:

Elain Archeron is tired. Tired of tiptoeing around people, tired of sleepwalking through life. Luckily, a diplomatic trip to the Summer Court gives her a much-needed chance to see the world beyond the Night Court. There’s only one problem - Lucien is there too, and she can’t avoid him forever. When he catches her alone, it will give them the chance to begin something new - or to tear it all down.

3.7k words, rated G.

-

As Elain sat through dinner, she realized she didn’t quite regret coming on this trip. It was a surprise, considering she had been expected to be wracked with dread and anxiety the whole time.

The Summer Court was beautiful this time of year, even if the heat was stifling. The sea breeze provided blessed relief, a distraction from the sweat slipping down her spine. A distraction from the other things prickling her, too.

Four years ago, if someone had told her she would trade the town's ballrooms for three nights aboard a High Lord's pleasure barge, she would have laughed in their faces. And yet, here she was.

She was on a diplomatic trip on behalf of the Night Court to the Summer Court. In honor of newly forged alliances and successful efforts to rebuild Adriata, courtiers from Night, Day, Dawn, and Winter were spending three days coasting along the Court’s sunny shores.

The first night had passed by uneventfully. It was the kind of thing Elain was used to. Playing the entertainer, laughing and smiling along with these people she didn’t care enough about to know. They were on the second night now, over half way through the trip.

Presently, she was seated next to a nosy Dawn Court noblewoman named Haldyne. They had been making pleasant small talk for most of the lengthy dinner.

“I must say, I was surprised to see none of The Night Court’s inner circle with us. You’ve brought such a small party,” Haldyne remarked.

“Ah, yes. The High Lord and Lady are excited about this progress, but, their attentions were needed elsewhere,” Elain said carefully. “I hope my company will suffice.”

Altogether, there weren’t more than thirty guests, but the Night Court’s party was by far the smallest. She wouldn’t have thought it would be so hard for a High Lord and Lady to find suitable diplomats, but options for attendees on this trip were sorely limited.

Rhys and Feyre had their hands full between managing the court and their baby. Cassian had been pardoned for destroying a building, but Feyre thought it best not to push it. Azriel would likely scare the shit out of half of the people there – as would Amren. This was not meant to be a match of political intimidation, but one of goodwill and peace. Mor had planned to come, but she had been unavoidably detained by some minor disaster on the continent.

Fortunately – or unfortunately, depending on how charitable Elain was feeling – this was a relatively unimportant trip, meaning the Night Court could manage with just sending two representatives.

Her, and Lucien.

The movement of his red hair caught in her peripheral vision. He was seated diagonally from her, chatting up one of Kallias’s cousins. If she looked past Lady Haldyne just right, she could get a glimpse of him.

He looked handsome tonight, she had to admit. His hair had been neatly braided, and he wore tight-fitting pants with an embroidered white and gold tunic that brought a glow to his brown skin. If she looked closely, she could glimpse rings shining on his fingers.

Not that she was looking all that closely, of course.  

So far, they had managed the trip well. As well as could be expected when they had barely spoken before this week, despite him being constantly in the orbit of her thoughts. He had winnowed them onto the palace grounds, holding her hand stiffly. From there, they had made a point to only speak and touch when necessary. Their rooms on the ship were next to each other, but not adjoining, thank goodness.

Since they were here to talk to other people, and the other delegations far outnumbered their own, there hadn’t been much need to speak with each other. They could both hold their own in all sorts of social settings.

Although, that didn’t explain why her wretched thoughts kept drifting back to him.

It doesn’t matter that this trip is with Lucien. It could be with Mor, Cassian, or Rhys, and it would all be the same. We are nothing to each other. This means nothing. She repeated the words over and over in her mind, thanking her lucky stars Lucien wasn’t a daemati like Rhys. Feyre had told her several stories that involved Rhys slipping into her mind unannounced before they were mated – often with embarrassing results. She couldn’t imagine such a thing with Lucien.

“I’m sorry to hear that your Court is so busy. I hope nothing too troubling?” Haldyne pried. In all honesty, she might have meant well, but Elain knew she could never be too careful.

“Not at all. We’ve had much to celebrate these past months.”

“Yes, allow me to extend my congratulations on your court’s new heir.”

From the corner of her eye, she watched Lucien turn to speak with someone across the table. Within seconds, the other person had their head thrown back in laughter, no doubt from some amusing little remark Lucien had made.

“Thank you, it’s appreciated. I’ll relay the message to my sister.”

Trying as much as she could to maintain eye contact with the courtier, she kept glancing at Lucien. It was stupid and shouldn’t have mattered, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away.

Suddenly, Lucien turned towards her, and their eyes locked. There was a tight yank on the string between them, and it sucked her breath out of her lungs as it pulled taught.

She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her

“Are you alright, Lady Elain?” Haldyne asked her, hazel eyes darkened with concern as she twisted around to see what Elain had been looking at.

Elain swallowed, searching for coherent words. Damn faeries, and their damn bonds and instincts.

Mate, mate, mate.

Mine.

The female turned back to Elain, a knowing gleam in her eye. Of course, it was common knowledge that they were mates.

“I think I could use some fresh air. My apologies – I’ll be back in a moment,” she said, tossing her napkin on the table before she could hear something she didn’t want to. Her knee banged against the table as she stood.

Shit, that hurt. 

Painfully aware of all the eyes on her, she hurried out of the room with her cheeks blazing, trying to remember the layout of the boat. Down would take her to their rooms, up would take her to the deck…which way was the staircase?

Turn after turn, she finally located the staircase that took her up to the top level. The scent of the sea washed over her as she stepped out onto the deck.

The sun was beginning to set, casting the pearlescent color of the floor and sides with a rather enchanting glow. Another thing she would never have found in the human realms – even now, she couldn’t name the strange material the boat was made of. She made a note to ask someone from the Summer Court later.

She made her way over to the high railing encircling the deck. From her position, she could see Adriata in the distance – they were keeping close to the shore. The clear sea sparkled below her.

Alone at last, she released a long sigh.

It was peaceful out here, and this was the first time she had been alone in hours.

Cauldron, she had spent all day in Lucien’s orbit. It had happened before, of course, at Court functions and family events, but always under the snooping eyes of Feyre and her court.

This shouldn’t have been any different. She was simply trading a Solstice with the Inner Circle for a cruise with fae nobility.

Get it together, Elain. Lucien is nothing to you. You’ve been civil to each other, and that is enough. 

She had to get him out of her head. It was incredibly embarrassing, the way everyone knew that there was a bond between them. If it happened again tonight, it wouldn’t have been the first time someone she barely knew made a sly remark about the whole thing.

Though the bond had never drawn taught like that purely from eye contact. Even now, she could feel the lingering tension in her chest.

She didn’t care about Lucien and his clever remarks. She didn’t care that he never made those remarks to her. She didn’t care that she never let him close enough for him to even try.

A breeze whipped across the deck, splashing salt spray on her skirt and teasing a few strands of her hair from her braid.

These past few months, things had been…stagnant. Accepting the loss of her old life had been hard, but she had begun to move past it. But she still didn’t have much of a new life, either. All of the roads seemed to point back to Lucien, and she didn’t know how to feel.

Suddenly, a shiver crept up her back, giving her the sense that she wasn’t alone.

Couldn’t she have five minutes of peace?

Let it just be a servant checking on me. 

Even as she thought it, she knew it wasn’t true. The ache in her chest had tightened again.

Letting go of the railing, she turned around to see Lucien.

Why had he followed her up here? He never followed her, never chased after her. He was so respectful of her boundaries that it almost hurt. And yet he picked now to come after her?

There was nowhere to run. The boat was large, yes, but not large enough that she could flee without making an obvious statement. He stood at the threshold of the stairs, watching her.  

“Am I needed downstairs?” she asked, straightening herself even as she turned back to face the waves. Maybe if she pretended to be unbothered, he would leave her be.

Would it be so bad if he didn’t? That intrusive little voice in the back of her skull nagged at her.

“You’ve been flitting around all afternoon. They’ll survive your absence for a few minutes,” Lucien said. He crossed the deck to stand by the railing as she was doing, six feet down from her. For a moment, neither of them said anything as they watched the waves below.

“Why are you here?” Lucien finally asked, bracing his muscular forearms against the railing.

“I wanted some fresh air. It was too stuffy on the lower levels,” she replied. “I hope Tarquin isn’t bothered by my absence.” 

“I’m sure Tarquin is managing just fine. But you know that’s not what I meant.”

I don’t think you know me at all.  

“If you mean to ask why I’m on this barge, it’s because Feyre asked me to come.”

“And do you do everything Feyre asks of you?” Lucien challenged.

“She is my sister. And there was no one else.”

“You never deny Feyre when she needs you,” he mused.

Elain shot him a sharp glance. “I would hardly say that’s true. But what of it?”

Lucien only shook his head, wordless. A few strands of his autumn-gilded hair had come loose from his braid, catching in the light of the setting sun.

When Feyre had approached Elain about coming, Elain could tell without her seer abilities that her sister expected her to say no. Even now, she was probably waiting to hear if disaster would strike and Elain would chicken out. Three days in Adriata aboard Tarquin’s pleasure barge – with Lucien? Nowhere to escape but the open water?

She hadn’t let herself think about why she had said yes to Feyre’s request.

Elain realized she had lost herself in her thoughts again. Silent for too long.

“Why are you here?” she retorted. “Not on this trip, but here – on this deck.”

“The same reason as you. It’s too stuffy down there,” he responded, but with such glib in his voice that Elain knew it wasn’t the truth.

She itched to call him out on it, but she would be the biggest hypocrite alive to do so. Silence fell again as she scrabbled for anything else to say, and came up woefully short.

It was just…he was so polite. Just like everyone was with her. She knew he wasn’t like that with everyone – he threw back and forth sarcastic remarks with Feyre all the time.

It was ridiculous. At every turn, people were telling her to just talk to Lucien. It shouldn’t have been hard. Back when she was human, one of her friends had told her she could make conversation with the shrubbery. And she had been doing a fine job of chatting up her fellow guests minutes before.

It was different with the male before her. There was no room for frilly formalities and small talk with him. Not when silence had defined their relationship for so long, and there was so much that needed to be said.

All of the sudden, a burst of restless energy pulsed through her. Enough silence. She was Elain Archeron. She could charm anyone when she put her mind to it. The least she could do was make some sort of attempt at conversation. It didn’t have to mean anything more.

“The sky is lovely tonight,” she said, aware that they were both looking up at the darkening heavens.

“I suppose, though it all pales in comparison to the Night Court, I suppose,” Lucien pointed out.

Elain shrugged. “Perhaps. But I’ve never been stargazing in Summer before. I like the unfamiliar, sometimes.”

“The Autumn Court may not be good for much, but their sunsets are beautiful. I’m sure Rhys would disagree with me there, too, but I think they’re beyond compare.”

“Perhaps I’ll have to see them, sometime,” Elain remarked.

Faintly, Elain began to hear a lively, unfamiliar tune from down below.

“The dancing’s started,” he said.

“Don’t let me keep you,” she insisted with a wave of her hand. “Truly, I just needed some fresh air. I’ll be fine.”

“What makes you think I want to go back down there and deal with them?” he said softly, stepping closer – so he wouldn’t be overheard, Elain assumed. He smelled like cinnamon.

She raised a brow. “I’ve heard you’re a passable dancer. And they’re not so bad, down there.” 

Lucien’s mouth twitched, and he made a sound that half sounded like a laugh. “Who told you I’m a passable dancer?”

“Feyre mentioned it.”

Lucien scoffed. “The last time Feyre saw me dancing, she was drunk on faerie wine at the Summer Solstice celebration in the Spring Court. I would hardly count that as a reliable endorsement.”

Half a dozen mindless phrases to end the conversation gracefully came to the tip of her tongue, but she paused.

Lucien was fun to talk to, she realized. It had been a long time since she had someone who would play these verbal games with her. These days, she was always skating through things, half paying attention. Never really trying. 

Maybe it was time to change things.

“So, is Feyre’s estimate too generous? Are you a poor dancer?” Elain challenged. Truthfully, she couldn’t imagine Lucien as anything but utterly graceful, gliding across the dance floor.

“I am an excellent dancer, Elain. Ask anyone who was sober.”

“Well, you better go and prove it downstairs. I’m sure there’s someone still looking for a partner. You can prove to everyone you won’t trample their toes.”

She meant it all in jest, but Lucien paused for a long moment, hands braced against the ship’s railing. He turned away from the sea and towards her. She made herself hold his gaze – one eye russet, one gold. 

When he finally spoke, his tone was as light as ever. “Are you really so desperate to get rid of me?”

She froze. All of this had been a light conversation, jesting while skating around anything too serious. There was a truthful question embedded in his last words.

The truth, Lucien, is that I can’t think straight when you’re near me. 

“I don’t mind you being here. But you shouldn’t feel obligated to chase after me when you think something’s wrong.”

Lie and truth, skating a very thin line.

Indignation flared in his gaze. “I never said a thing about obligation.”

“You know precisely what I’m talking about.”

That lit a fire in his gaze. “So, you wish to bring the bond you resent into this at last? Yes, I know about it all too well. And we both know that I have never chased you down. I have left you to sit in silence, as you have wished. Just this one time, I thought I would make sure you were still alright. Can I not be obligated to you as something other than a mate? As a fellow emissary?”

“No! How can you, when everything else is dwarfed in comparison to this?”

Oh, she was making him angry now. This was quickly turning into an argument, and she didn’t quite know how it had happened. Nor did she wish to stop it. Not entirely.

“Why even bother coming on this trip, then? If there can be nothing between us other than a bond you don’t want?” he spit back. His tone was angry, but he kept his distance physically. She noted his posture was tense, but not aggressive.

“I came on this trip because I wanted to try!” she said, realizing as she said it how loud her voice was getting. Frustration thrummed through her. How could she make him understand she was making an effort, however unapparent?

 “Again – you’ve been avoiding me the entire time, same as you have all these years. How is that getting either of us anywhere?”

“Can you blame me for reacting like I did?” she shot back, throwing her hands out. “I know this hasn’t been everything you wanted. Can you honestly say that if I had run into your arms after the bond snapped, no reservations, that you would have been ready for it?”

“No, I can’t say that. But I’ve always been honest in my intentions.”

“What do you want from me, then?”

“I want you to be honest, too.”

Of course, he did. She couldn’t even be mad at him for it.

That realization had her anger fading away as quickly as it had come. Here they were, both trying to understand each other at last. Wasn’t this what she had wanted? An unfiltered, real conversation?

“You want the truth?” she said softly. “The truth is that we’ve both made mistakes, but you’re still assuming one thing wrong.”

“And what would that be?” he asked skeptically.

There was no turning away from this. It terrified her, but she couldn’t lose him – not now. Not like this, during a silly argument that had spiraled out of control.

“You’re assuming that I resent the bond – resent you. That’s not true. I resent how it was thrust upon me, and I resent everyone’s expectations of me. I don’t know how to talk to you because of it. Anyone else, I can make nice with, but I don’t know how to pretend when it comes to you. So the alternative has been to do nothing at all. And by the time I thought I might want to change that, it seemed so impossible. That is the truth.”

He sounded a bit breathless, anger evaporating and being replaced with hope. “What are you saying?”

Carefully, she reached out for his hand. Lucien drew a sharp breath when their fingers made contact, but didn’t pull away as she held his hand and intertwined their fingers.

“I’m saying I do want to try. Truly. I’m not sure I know how to begin. I’ve been a fool in my approach, and I don’t blame you for being angry. But if you’re willing, so am I.”

Cautious joy bloomed on Lucien’s face as he smiled. She couldn’t recall the last time she had seen a true smile on his face – certainly, it was never directed at her – but it was beautiful. He was beautiful.

Her smiles were rare these days, too. But looking towards the future between them, all of it uncertain, she couldn’t help but feel a pulse of excitement – and she smiled back.

Music drifted up from the level below. No doubt the dancing was still going strong.

Lucien looked down at their intertwined hands. Hers, callused from gardening, with a simple bracelet adorning her wrist. His, with rings on nearly every finger and a thick scar across the back of his hand. “Perhaps we could start with something we both know. Will you dance with me, Elain?”

A simple test, to see if she could back up her words.

“It would be my honor,” she said.

He adjusted his grip on her hand and placed his other hand lightly on her waist – and then they were off.

It had been a long time since she danced like this, and at first her feet were a bit clumsy. Lucien was leading her through a dance similar to one popular in the mortal lands, but with some of the steps a bit different. After a bit of stumbling, she began to get a feel for the quick, romantic piece that had them spinning across the deck.

It wasn’t nearly as awkward as she feared. Lucien’s hand fit perfectly against her hip, never straying lower or higher. The sun had nearly set, but she found she could still make out the details of his face in the dim lighting. Another gift she had the fae to thank for.

“So,” he said softly, leading her into a quick turn, “are my dancing skills passable?”

“For now, I can say that suffice. But I think I’ll need more dances to determine it for certain,” Elain replied, a bit surprised by her boldness. She felt the heat rise into her cheeks.

“I’ll look forward to proving to you just how wrong Feyre was,” he said.

“And I look forward to being proven wrong.”

The music faded, and Lucien withdrew from Elain at last. He bowed to her as if they were at a formal ball, and she curtsied to him in turn.

When he kissed her ungloved hand, she had no lies to tell herself about why her heart was beating so fast.

“Until next time, Elain.”

She gave him another small smile. “No more silence, Lucien.”

It was a simple promise, but at last, it was one she felt she could keep.

-

AN: Thank you for reading! Writing Elucien intimidates me a bit, but I had a lot of fun working on this! I’m still working on getting their voices perfect, so please be kind! Reblogs are always very appreciated. <3

Taglist: @thron3ofbooks @the-lonelybarricade @swankii-art-teacher  @ghostlyrose2  @brieq @cretaceous-therapod @live-the-fangirl-life @achernarlight @reverie-tales @starfall-spirit @starswholistenanddreamsanswered

Let me know if you’d like to be added to my general taglist or just be tagged for Elucien fics! If I've tagged you incorrectly here, please let me know as I don't have an elucien taglist yet!!

#elucien #elain x lucien #elucien fic #acotar fic #a court of thorns and roses fic #kate's writing #kat's writing #on my mind in my heart

[magnoliamica]

I’ve been LONGING FOR a “doing my job” call back/return, but now I think I don’t need one. Because “I know” is the evolution of “doing my job.”

“Doing my job” came from a place of going above and beyond for each other on the job. It was the first step toward meaning more to each other than just rookie and TO. But it was early days, and Tim especially still had his barriers up, and so their care for each other (specifically, his care for her; she already started operating outside of their job roles as early as S1E7, or even earlier, helping him with Isabel) was limited to work hours and work duty. And so when they have cause to thank each other for going above and beyond what one would reasonably expect from a partner, it was still under the auspices of work. “Thank you.” “For what? Doing my job?” It’s evading the fact that there’s something more there, winking at it, but still giving plausible deniability.

“I know” is those barriers coming down. It is, objectively, an admission that there is more going on here than simple coworkers. It is, objectively, an acknowledgement that they are more to each other. And just like with “For what? Doing my job?” Tim starts it. He is, canonically, “more of a show you kind of guy,” not someone who tells you, and so his care is shown through action. Lucy can’t say “thank you” to set up a “for what? Doing my job?” when he tells her he’s going to list her as the arresting officer, because it is actually verging on detrimental to his job to make this change. And so with “I know,” with the softness and warmth in his voice, with those EYES like a throwback to the parking deck eyes, he is acknowledging that this moves beyond work. That this is personal.

And honestly (maybe this is just a baby theory, idk what y’all think), I think that Lucy’s “I know” here acknowledges that as well. Lucy is the one who has ALWAYS stepped past their boundaries as coworkers to take care of him, whenever and however she can. And, as far as I can think of it, she always blows past any thanks or argument from him. Like in S2E1, when she asks about the food she sent him on recovery, and he tells her she shouldn’t have done that/she didn’t have to, she defends herself, even as she acknowledges that she wanted to. She says eating well is important to recovery. She justifies her decision making as a need, as simply the right or natural thing to do (are there other examples of this? What do y’all think?) or she makes a joke out of it. Lucy is the more emotionally intelligent and emotionally literate of the two of them, but I think she’s hiding from this thing between them more than him.

But with her closing the “I know” loop this episode, she breaks from that pattern. She doesn’t try to justify it with psychology or biology about it being important for healing people to have someone monitoring them, or that people who receive visitors heal faster or something like that. She doesn’t try to joke about not trusting him to push himself too hard too soon. He says she doesn’t have to, and she knows. She wants to. And to me, it feels like maybe the first time she’s really letting herself sit in that feeling, not trying to justify it or lighten the tension she feels or explain it away. She doesn’t have to; she wants to; and she knows exactly what that means.

#chenford #the rookie #tim bradford #lucy chen #tim x lucy #lucy x tim #the rookie spoilers #tucy #otp: doing my job

[izuhan]

warning: kind of possessive/yandere behavior (expect mentions of locking someone up and all that), grammatical errors, this is word vomit/brainrot

just... seungmin who dislikes it when you’re partnered with someone else he feels to be a bad person. (read: he’s jealous of)

someone he truly despises for you to be around. someone he rather witness dying than next to you to the extent he comes lurking around in the dark just to watch over you, feel his blood boil and pull you close to him and whine silently. the said bad person watching whatever he is doing.

you would be talking to that person cheerfully, indulging in their interest because that’s what partners do in the job; to create connections to trust each other. whether they mean well or not, conspiring against you or not.

it’s the same old rules everybody is following.

but seungmin is already at his limited capacity of seeing you with people he doesn’t like. just because he knows you’re capable of protecting yourself doesn’t mean he can do his job well rest assured of your being and not be around within a fair distance from you.

admit it or not, you love it when he’s like this too. all yours, clingy and adorable.

your partner understands your situation. sending you off with a smile while seungmin wears a scowl on his face. he could practically growl at the person, but he wouldn’t show such a shameful and lame act in front of you.

“aren’t you cute today too,”

“no, im not.”

you could only chuckle lovingly as he brings you close to his body. pining you on the corner of a hallway no one goes around nor passes by. it’s a perfect place to hide and let seungmin succumb to his awful feelings. let it absorb him, corrupt him until he’s feeling better himself within your company. he doesn’t need to know you enjoy it too, his state of being, a rare seungmin who dislikes something with a passion that gets to his head like so.

he wouldn’t go as far as anything beyond, really. he would only embrace you as though his life depends on it. as though if he let you go, you’d be astray and led to that person he dislikes. yeah, sure, that person’s your partner, so? seungmin is too, he’s been always your partner.

why couldn’t they simply understand you’re more capable of doing a lot, showing a lot of your abilities with him than you do with others?

sure, it’s for your own sake of diversity. to test your capabilities to connect with other people. but, as your prolonged partner, as your fucking lover—he hates everything they throw and drags you in.

seungmin is well aware of your line of work. emotions shouldn’t meld with work. however, no one has told him off yet. no one has said anything in regard to his behavior. which means he gets to be feeling like garbage you’re ready to throw but kept forgetting.

he’d be that. if it means stealing you away from that person. he’s willing to be the one inconsiderate of anything just so he knows you’re out of that person’s sight. let his emotions run wild only for you, chan wouldn’t mind him in trouble at times.

“i need to get back,” you say it like you’re happy without him. “you know i’ll come back home to you,” then why don’t you just stay home? “seungmin-ah, i love to have you like this, but wouldn’t it upset chan and the others? we always disappear at such an inconvenient time. he’d punish us to de—”

he couldn’t take it. and took your lips to his. he wants to cry. this churning feeling inside of him makes him fucking sick to his stomach and his heart aches so badly. why couldn’t you just stay? why does it have to be this way?

he pushes his tongue inside, and his grasp on your waist and your head leads you closer and closer to melt with him. tongues don’t dance with each other nor does it battle for dominance. with how hopelessly he clings to you, you seem to let him lead and take it well. like the good lover, you are. so good it drives him insane. this is why he doesn’t like anyone around you than himself.

you let him do whatever he wants to. indulging in his wildest fantasy because it’s you. you let him corrupt and break you, make you fall apart, and dance around the palm of his hand like some mindless doll you are. but you give him so much love and comfort he understands well enough that you don’t need him. he needs you. seungmin needs you. always.

all his diary entry is about you. how you’re doing. how you’re holding up. how amazing you are. how much love he has for you. how you’re exceptionally ethereal. how you’re holding the best smile, the strongest body. how he loves you most. you. and you. how could it not be you? when one looks your way, he’s greedy, he’s loving, he’s hurtful to others, he’s so loving, so lovely, so sad and happy, feeling so good and well—he feels like a child at times. he’s stubborn as one, demanding as one, clingy as one, and loving as one.

having you all to himself when all there is to him is nothing but you. you accept him for who he is even when bloodshed comes to trigger your very being.

but isn’t it all for you? that, you understand. also, it’s your work too. to mindlessly kill whoever chan assigns you to. you’re so obedient you didn’t know how seungmin had you in shambles. crying in pleasure. begging for more. crying out your love for him like no other. as if seungmin is your life source. as if there’s no one to lean on than him. your only hope, your only love, your life, seungmin.

kissing him and allowing him to corrupt your everything because that’s what you’re best at. obeying him and controlling his emotions though you also let them run wild as yours get to that point too. he breaks into your world and invites you to his, only to create a new one where anything is allowed. though there are a few limits to which you don’t mind.

after all, all you need to do is be faithful and love seungmin the way you want to be loved in return. it’s never a contract. fuck chan for saying that.

you love seungmin so dearly that you can never think of cheating, even when chan presents himself to be better. no one is compared to your seungmin. he never has to do anything to be better. he’s beyond everything and he’s yours.

he’s so adorable it hurts. “i love you seungmin, i’ll have chan know we can go back to being partners.” he puffs his cheeks again, looking the other way blushing.

“i can endure it longer, i’ll be considerate for a little while.” you kiss him while giggling, running your hands through his hair despite it was dribbling with sweat from lovemaking a few moments ago. of course, it leads to that, and it’s amazing. “i don’t want you around that person, but i don’t mind you earning experience from someone else than me.”

“pfft—you say it as if i’m going to sleep with them or something.”

he whines, bumping his head on you and rubbing it together before he’s decided to lick and bite your cheeks.

“if you do, i’ll break you. i’ll lock you here; you can never go out without my permission. i will never allow you to see anyone nor interact with anyone but me—”

“if i do, but i won’t so...”

again, he feels a bit sluggish, more overwhelmed, and loved.

“i know. all the more reason to love and keep you away from pests.”

a/n: i wrote this when i woke up at 4am like....that's unhealthy.... but also seungmin jelly. u can think of them as mafias or assassins but yeah they do crazy shit for a job (not a snippet of wip but kinda somehow related--i talk too much so I decided to put my rambling here at the end bye)

#kim seungmin #seungmin #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfic #seungmin x reader #seungmin fluff #kim seungmin stray kids #kim seungmin scenarios #kim seungmin x reader #stray kids blurbs #stray kids brainrot #skz #skz fanfic #skz fluff #skz headcanons #skz scenarios #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz seungmin #stray kids fluff #stray kids au #stray kids drabbles #bang chan imagines #stray kids headcanons #stray kids reactions #stray kids scenarios #seungmin imagines #yandere seungmin

[eradicatetehnormal]

Posted this as a comment, but here's a repost to tumblr:

I think that unless something big centered around Kairi happens, I'll always have mixed feelings for her. When I'm playing the games, I don't pay her much mind, but when I go back and think about her, it's so frustrating. Sora was reckless when he stood up to Riku with no weapon but got rewarded for his courage and learning his lesson about the power of connection. Riku is reckless when he joins Maleficent but gets to redeem himself by going through castle oblivion and eventually becoming a keyblade master. Kairi though? As mentioned in the video, when she's reckless in KH2 by jumping into the pile of heartless, she needs to be given grace by Riku and his ability to apparently pull keyblades out of his bum-hole.

It's almost as if the narrative, the very universe of Kingdom Hearts is punishing her for daring to try to be more involved. It's sad. I get that that's the point, but when Sora gets to rebound and save the universe despite his mistakes, it can feel upsetting and unsatisfying to see Kairi be able to barely progress in terms of her position. I get, understand, and agree with some points about the people who say that Kairi sucks because she doesn't fight, having a bit of a sexist mindset. Here's the thing though, when it comes to action movies, cheezy shounen anime, or most relevantly, RPGs, fights aren't just two dudes slicining at each other with "d1ldo sticks," as TheGamer'sJoint calls, them.

Fights carry narrative weight behind them. They represent things. Roxas fighting Sora represented the former's last-ditch effort to get out of the latter's shadow and take control of his life, only to end in tragedy, confirming, for then, that nobodies are fated to be forgotten. Xion's fight with Axel represents the hardships of crumbling friendships and how some desperately cling to something that isn't working out.

Kairi though? She never gets that big narrative fight. Sure, there's the fight with Xehanort, but that's shared with Sora. I guess it's cool that she got to stick it to the guy who tried to "fRiDgE" her, but most of the truly emotional stuff comes from the scene before that fight. It showed how the relationship between her and Sora has changed over time, where she hasn't proven herself to some losers in the real world, Sora has come to recognize her strength and is willing to fight with her as an equal possibly giving her some confidence for the battle. Still, she never has that character that's a foil to her.

She doesn't have anybody forcing her to push past her limits. She's essentially her own cheerleader. I guess Axel's there too? They didn't do anything with that.

I used to feel irritated with how much of her character is centered around her relationship with and to Sora and Riku, but the more I think about it, it makes sense. Particularly with Sora, I always thought of them as parallels to each other. Sora is everything Kairi wants to be. Someone who defied fate and expectations by rising above almost any challenge that faced him in spite of his weakness. Kairi is everything Sora thinks he is. Someone who, despite their best efforts and endless potential, end up failing most of the time and having to rely on others, never quite being able to get out of those training wheels. Sora is what happens when you TRY to be the knight. Kairi is what happens when you are FORCED to be the princess.

I hope that KH4 can find time to make that undertone to their relationship, more of an overtone, even if they're just feeling the relationship change through their hearts or something. I feel like people (myself included) miss Kairi's character because, beyond our misogyny, we're so accustomed to arm candy bimbos in action media, that we'll immediately look at most leading female characters through that lens. I wonder if more people would appreciate her character, had KH been a character-driven TV show instead of an action JRPG. I would love to get some more side material of her, whether it be a short series, a 3-hour visual novel, or another rhythm game. Something that really picks her brain.

#kingdom hearts #kairi #Youtube

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Chapter 3 Spoilers

This is not a full translation. Expect grammatical errors. Not 100% accurate.

Nobunaga: "Whether it's recuperation or rest, it doesn't matter. Mai, go soak in a hot spring and give your body some rest."

Nobunaga: "You're my lucky charm, so I won't allow you to collapse before the battle."

Nobunaga: "Hideyoshi, the same goes for you."

Hideyoshi: "Eh?"

Nobunaga: "I order you to guard Mai. Don't leave her side."

???: "There she is!"

(Eh?)

Samurai 1: "Hand over that sacrificial princess!"

Mai: "Hideyoshi, the sacrificial princess they're after..."

Hideyoshi: "Yeah, it looks like it's you."

Hideyoshi: "Mai!"

I lost my balance, and Hideyoshi swiftly wrapped his arms around me, preventing me from falling off the horse.

(No, don't touch me.)

Hideyoshi: "Guh!"

He gritted his teeth, enduring the intense pain.

Mai: "Let go of me, Hideyoshi!"

Hideyoshi: "As if I could just let go!"

Even though I hurriedly turned my body, he still wouldn't let go.

During all this, I could hear an unpleasant sound like a hot iron pressing against something.

(His skin is burning.)

So far, he's never had anything worse happen to him, even though the pain had increased. But now, there was no doubt that his skin was burning.

Mai: "Please, let me go! If you don't hurry, you'll..."

Hideyoshi: "I can't just trade your life."

(You're important too!)

Hideyoshi: “Nobody touches Mai.”

He knocked down the approaching enemies like a demon, drenched in blood, while protecting me.

(He must be reaching his limit by now.)

No matter how strong he was, the enemies were overwhelmingly outnumbering us.

Above all, one of his arms was tightly holding onto me.

(If this continues, the burns will only worsen.)

Mai: “Let go of me! I can’t let you push yourself any further.”

Hideyoshi: “Don’t make that face. If anything were to happen to you, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”

Hideyoshi: “You’re more important than anything else. Please understand.”

(Hideyoshi...)

Hideyoshi parried the blow of a screaming enemy coming to cut him down.

His eyes were full of emotions more intense than madness as he killed his enemies with a grim expression.

(Even though there were so many of them...)

Before I knew it, the enemies who had come at us were lying on the ground.

He casually wiped off the splattered blood from his cheek and dismounted from the horse, leaving me behind.

Hideyoshi: “Wait here.”

Hideyoshi: “Hey, you.”

The last remaining person struggled to stand, barely catching his breath.

Samurai: “Ugh... Sacrificial princess...”

(Even in this situation, he’s still...)

As the man attempted to point his sword toward me, Hideyoshi grabbed him by the collar.

Hideyoshi: “Why are you targeting this woman!?”

Samurai: “Because she’s a sacrificial princess.”

Hideyoshi: “Sacrificial princess? Who calls her that?”

Samurai: “Our small country has been devastated by conflicts with neighboring regions.”

Samurai: “Even beyond the mountains, everyone is fighting with each other. Once you cross the borders, everyone becomes an enemy.”

Samurai: "The only people we can trust are our people."

Hideyoshi: "What does that have to do with the sacrificial princess?"

Samurai: "This devastation is happening because of Nobunaga's ambition to unify the country."

Samurai: "A priestess told us that if we offered a woman named Mai, who is Nobunaga's mistress, as an offering, the heavens would calm their wrath, and the world would be at peace."

(There's no way that will bring peace.)

Hideyoshi: "It's obviously a load of bullshit! Why can't you understand!?"

Samurai: "Her face is now on wanted posters."

Samurai: "The desperate people from the devastated regions, driven by desperation, are searching for her with bloodlust."

Samurai: "Even if you try to kill me, someone will eventually offer her as a sacrifice to the heavens. Then, there'll be peace again."

Hideyoshi: “Mai, I’m going to sleep. You get some rest too.”

Mai: “Okay. But I’ll stay here a little longer.”

Hideyoshi: “No. You need to lie down, or you’ll get tired.”

(He always worries about me no matter what the situation is.)

Mai: “Please, just a little longer. Okay?”

Hideyoshi: “I guess I don’t have a choice.”

Mai: “Okay, thanks.”

Hideyoshi: “I should be the one thanking you for taking care of me.”

(I’m not taking care of him at all.)

I felt frustrated and helpless that I couldn’t even wipe the sweat off his forehead.

(I can’t even apply to him the ointment I received from Ieyasu, even though I’m right by his side.)

Hideyoshi: “Mai.”

I snapped back to reality when he suddenly called me.

Mai: “Yeah? Something wrong?”

Hideyoshi: “.........”

Not having much energy left to speak, Hideyoshi stared at me.

His eyes were full of sympathy, as if he was trying to cheer me up.

Mai: “Oh, did I look tired by any chance?”

Mai: “I’m just a little sleepy. We’ve traveled quite pretty far.”

Hideyoshi: “I see.”

Mai: “So why are you two here?”

Ranmaru: “That’s because you’re in a difficult situation.”

A shadow fell over Ranmaru’s once cheerful expression.

Mai: “Are you talking about the sacrificial princess?”

Ranmaru: “Yes. I was actually going to tell him about the danger, but those guys were moving too fast.”

Ranmaru: “If only I had hurried a little more, Lord Hideyoshi wouldn’t have had to push himself too hard. I’m sorry.”

(There’s no need for Ranmaru to apologize.)

His words trailed off as regret lurked in his eyes.

Ranmaru: “But still, their methods are just too much. Those two are unbelievable.”

Mai: "Those two?"

After a pause, Kennyo spoke up.

Kennyo: "Mai, I'll tell you where the rumors came from."

Mai: "You know?"

(I don't know if I can trust this person to tell me the truth, but I still want to know.)

Feeling desperate, I stared at Kennyo.

Kennyo: "Let me get to the point. The rumors about the sacrificial princess are nothing but fabrications by Kicho."

➟ Chapter 4 Spoilers

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen hideyoshi #hideyoshi toyotomi #ikesen jp #ikesen #ikemen sengoku hideyoshi

[wthtorke]

Denial

Celtic x Reader

No one could ever deny the potential he had. He was perfect and envied by so many of his peers, the only true friends by his side being his brothers, forever loyal and just as determined as he was to earn their markings and call themselves true hunters, truly blooded at last. 

The world seemed to speed up whenever you spotted him, his training always intense and almost nonstop. While his clanmates drank and had their fun, you could always find Celtic sparring or, when it was too late, he trained alone. His moves were precise, unwavering, muscles rippling and tensing as he played out a fight in his head, eyes moving as if he fought against a cloaked enemy whom only he could see. It was easy to get lost in Celtic. Everything that was him embraced you so.  It was hard not to feel the ache in your chest every time you thought about the hunt. Even when you knew it was every youngblood’s greatest desire. To be successful in the hunt, to prove yourself, and to feel all the glory and relief of finally making it.

You cheered for him. Not just for him but for his brothers as well. But your heart remained with him, in every move, every thought, and every breath. Celtic wasn’t cocky even when he had all the reason to be. He wasn’t ignorant, nor was he limited. Celtic exceeded any and every expectation there ever was on his back. Never buckling under pressure, never letting his nerves get the best of him, never being reckless and stupid.

Celtic was perfect.

If you stand out for whatever reason, you are bound to get nailed on the head. Be it by comments, actions, or anything foul coming from people that didn’t know the half of it. Celtic had the triple of challenges anyone his age had in practice. Every youngblood swearing they could take him down only for Celtic to prove, yet again, that it would take more than just that to bend him. To make him fall. And he never did. Celtic always got back up, nodding his acceptance to yet another fight, fists clenched and ready to go again.

Celtic’s shoulders never relaxed. He was always tense as if he carried weights constantly chained to his body. As if he dared to lose focus, the world would crumble then and there. 

You were more than surprised someone so perfect would look in your way, let alone approach you as he did. But how much did anyone know about what went in Celtic’s head? 

Celtic was in denial.

The partnership with humans didn’t affect him as much as it did other people as the eldest brother, Celtic was taught respect from a very young age. He couldn’t afford to be cocky and reckless. His younger brothers and his team relied on him for decision-making, guidance, and being there for them when they needed him. Leaders didn’t underestimate anyone. The good ones didn’t, anyway.

Still, seeing humans walking around their ship, talking to their people, interacting, and just being there was ….odd. It wasn’t hard to see them as they were. They were people, living beings much like Celtic and anyone who breathes. But the denial came in when he saw you. He knew that the humans and their coexistence would bring relationships beyond friendships, and he wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t expect to be one of the warriors to ….look at humans that way.

You were stunning. 

Celtic remembers seeing you for the first time, in between a crowd of humans that had just arrived at the ship, the second group to come into the program, come to settle now that the first group’s interactions had proven successful with the Yautja. 

He saw your eyes scan the room with curiosity and hope. He liked the way they sparkled when they landed on him. Celtic’s expectations for the program have increased tenfold with your arrival, and therefore, his own goals got greater. He trained harder when he knew your eyes were on him. He pushed himself further and further each day, a primal feeling urging him to be the best among any person in whatever room you were in, to call to you, to have you notice, to have you want him as intensely as he desired you.

He told himself that it wasn’t nearly as important as it seemed, that the burning he felt in his chest wasn’t longing, but juvenile stupidity, that he didn’t know any better. Stupidity or not, he found himself driven to you, involuntarily so. 

He caught himself looking at you, stealing glances whenever he took another challenger down, heavy breathing from strain behind his mask, muscles rippling and claws twitching, wanting, longing, always longing. 

He stared at his hands late at night, resting on his bunk bed. His eyes made out the rough shapes of his hands in the dark, hearing his brothers’ soft snoring rising from the bunk under and beside his own. He wondered what it would feel like to hold you, to feel his fingers gently close around your arms as he confessed. Confessed...? His tusks pulled into a frown, the quills on his browbones tightening as he scowled. Confession,

“Stop growling and sleep already.” Came the also annoyed voice from under his bed. Chopper. Followed by silent chuckling from somewhere on the other side of the room. Scar. “Brother has it hard.” He says. Celtic grunts. Maybe he did, but

“That’s none of your business.” 

He got another chuckle in reply, silence filling the dark room again after that. 

It’d have to end, he told himself. He was losing focus. His brothers needed him sharp on their missions, in their efforts to fight off badbloods and win them, even if they hadn’t had any after their Chiva, after becoming blooded. 

It’s not an excuse to slack, he thought. No human nor Yautja would throw him off so easily. Except that you did, and it didn’t have to do with being human or not. He realized that when he saw a human male talking to you one day. Jealously was not uncommon to his people. They could get possessive and aggressive over the people they liked.

He approaches you feeling ashamed, defeated, and succumbing to his silliness. But that didn’t show on the outside. It never did. 

He steels himself as he closes the space between you, faltering when you turn around and look at him like he was the ship’s most honored warrior. Eyes widen as you realize that he walked up to you. Your lips parted slowly, giving him the tiniest peep of the blunt teeth you had behind them.  It made his stomach flip. He clenches his fists beside him. 

You can feel your heart rate quicken at the sight of him, your hands growing restless as he tilts his head at you. He wasn’t rude by any means. If anything, you’d have yet to know someone more respectful than he was. 

“I would like to know you better.” He said after a while into your conversation. “I realized I enjoy it when you’re around.” 

Never had you appreciated their forwardness more than now. 

“That sounds great. I’m also interested in you.” Your voice felt thick, and your fingers twitched when his broad shoulders relaxed the tiniest bit at your response. Maybe he was under your spell as much as you were under his. The thought of a simple human wielding such power over a Yautja was as funny as it was concerning. But then again, Celtic always faced everything with bravery and determination.

Even small, sweet humans that made him stay up at night. 

-

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