#this took me 2 days to make i was impassioned

[asagaos-in-the-window]

happy 7th anniversary asagao academy. hanabutter is the most thematically important asagao ship and it breaks my heart in two everytime i think about it 

#asagao academy #hana mizuno #asagao pbg #hanabutter #this took me 2 days to make i was impassioned #anyway i know this game is unbelievably dead and it can never be brought back in its entirety but god it means so much to me. #i haven't made a dedicated anniversary post for it since 2020 #anyway yeah. glad it exists #my art

[oweninadaydream]

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐩𝐭 𝟐 || 𝐅.𝐎𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 : Say Don't Go (Taylor's version) (From The Vault) or 4 times you say 'I love you' and Finnick says nothing back.

𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 : Finnick Odair x reader

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 : 2k

𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼 : angst/fluffy ending i promise, TW: mentions of torture ,anxiety and kidnapping (first story).

𝓪/𝓷 : As promised, here's part 2 of say don't go pt 1 !!! I hope you enjoy the fic!!!

3. 𝓰𝓱𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾

You woke up in your bed, yet you could not recall how you got there. Your body felt sore and stiff but nothing could top the way your head was pounding. You were seated against the headboard and you noticed that something wasn’t right ; you couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but you knew deep inside that something was different. To help calm your distress, you tried to remember anything about the day before . You realized right and then that your memory was completely blank, leaving you even more worried than you were prior to that failed attempt. 

You had assumed you were all alone, but then you saw Finnick pass through your bedroom door. “Thank God he’s here” you thought, convincing yourself that everything would be alright now that he was there with you (even if you ignored the motivation behind his unexpected visit). He slowly made his way inside and stood in the middle of the room, keeping himself at arm’s length, something extremely unusual that confirmed your gut feeling. Once he had entered your bedroom, you couldn’t help but analyze him and his strange attitude.  His movements were robotic as if someone had a remote control that forced him to act like that. His eyes had never been a mystery to you , you could always tell what was going on inside him with a single stare . But this time it was different; he was staring at you with an impassive look that you couldn't quite read, making your whole body tremble in fear and distrust.

You felt intimidated and tried to figure out what was wrong with him “Finn dear, what’s going on?" you asked with a quivering smile. You tried to lift your hand to reach his but ,for some reason, you couldn't. It felt like you were strapped to the mattress and you started panicking, as you couldn't figure out what was happening. Seeking comfort, you pleaded with him in between sobs "I'm very scared Finnick please tell me something, anything. Or just hold me because this is very confusing. I- I feel like- I can't move out of bed, I- I need you" 

He simply continued to play his stoic role ; he didn't move one inch before your panic attack or your efforts to set free from the invisible restraints holding you down. "Help me" you whispered with an expression of pure pain on your damped face. Your foggy brain couldn't process the scene before your eyes ; the person who represented love, hope and comfort in your miserable life was being a passive witness to your spectacle of fear and it didn’t seem like he was going to jump into action anytime soon. 

You noticed a rapid change in his factions. His eyes burst into flames of hatred and his clenched jaw only accentuated the shift from indifference to hostility. Instead of hurrying to console and aid you like the Finnick you knew would, this empty shell of a man that resembled him broke the distance between you and wrapped his hands around your throat, beginning to strangle you purposefully. 

You had been living in survival mode ever since you were chosen as a tribute for District 4 all those years ago, you were no stranger to fighting or death, but never in a million years would you have imagined that the man who swore to shield you from any danger would be the one stealing your breath with his bare hands in an extremely violent manner . You were desperately gasping for air and coughing while he continued to focus on his mission. 

For a moment, he seemed to let his hold loose a bit and you took the chance to try and talk him into letting go "Finn, it's me. Why are you doing this?Is anyone making you do this? We take care of each other, remember? I love you more than anything." you told him with a soft but raspy voice as a consequence of his assault. You were tired and wanted to give up, but you continued to fight for him, for your Finn to come back. Apparently, hearing your desperate confession only aggravated the situation, because you felt the strength returning to his hands. 

Suddenly, in between your cries and the lack of air , you felt yourself fading away. But before that happened , you heard a very loud scream. In the blink of an eye, you were no longer in your house and Finnick was nowhere to be seen. A white sterile room welcomed you to reality as some doctors accompanied by two peacekeepers entered the room. 

Oh, you remember now. You were kidnapped by the Capitol, who had been subjecting you to all kinds of  twisted experiments and never-ending abuse for who knows how long. The loud cries and several swear words that made you snap out of that nightmare were Johanna's, whose room was at your right. Peeta was your other neighbor, allowing you to hear them both being tortured at any given time. You looked at your arms and legs and saw the ropes tying you down , justifying the oppressing feeling you had while hallucinating. 

The main theme of your punishments for not snitching was him, Finnick Odair. Snow was more than aware of the deep devotion you held for him and how dear you were to him so he figured the perfect torture would be messing with your memories and use several techniques to impose fear and pain in your heart whenever you thought  of him or saw his face. That way, you would finally be all alone in this world ,  scared of the only thing you've ever loved so greatly and he would have to witness you shy away from him in pure terror. To meet his goal, they would drug you and play videos and recordings of him saying the meanest and cruelest words that you knew he would never be able to pronounce, but as the days passed , the truth and the imposed thoughts started to blur in one big and confusing mass. 

You were resisting quite well to President Snow's diabolic plan, but you could only hold onto your actual memories for so long. One of the last things you remembered thinking about  before you let yourself fall into madness were his eyes, and how much you loved them.

If your suffering assured his survival, you'd tell the Capitol to put you through it a thousand more times , and you would gladly do it again. If only you could have held your sweet Finnick for one more minute before letting him go forever…

4. 𝓪𝓷 𝓸𝓭𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮

The setting sun turned the white-sanded coast of District 4 a soft but enchanting shade of orange. The waves crashing against the rocks accompanied perfectly the idyllic landscape and brought a sense of calmness to the people assembled there. The summer solstice is a day where usually people celebrate the arrival of a new season, but that was not the case this time.

The beach looked magnificent, Effie had been the chief in charge of making everything (and everyone) look ideal for the occasion that brought them all together on that day. The first rows of white chairs were occupied by Haymitch, Effie, Katniss, Peeta, Johanna, Annie and right next to her, there was Mags, the woman who had taken care of you both for so many years and had seen how you two where meant to be from the first time you and your fiancé (soon to be husband) exchanged looks.

Neither you nor Finnick had ever thought about marrying anyone ; under Snow's regime, you were mere pieces of a game with no actual power of decision. But that didn't matter anymore. You were walking towards Finnick, who was nervously fidgeting with the sleeve of his suit , waiting for you at the end of the isle. When you finally arrived at your destination, you couldn't help but to turn around and go back to hug Mags, who received you with open arms and a couple of shed tears over her face. After this emotional moment, you went back to Finnick's side "Hi" you whispered so that the conversation could remain secret from all the guests "You come here often?" he teased with a beaming smile on his face. You let out a breathy laugh to relieve some tension and then you both turned so that the ceremony could start.

"I want to keep this vows short because I would need another lifetime just to expose the million reasons why this is the best day of my life. We're free, my love. It's truly over. This is our reward after a whole life of suffering and holding back. I am so in love with you, it's hard to put it into words. You know? Mags once told me that the thing I needed the most had always been right in front of me and I didn't get what she meant by that in that moment. She just laughed at me and told me that I would understand, one of these days" Mags in the front row was a tearful mess "and now I do. I really do" he stated confidently while holding your hands on his.

"My soul craves intertwining itself with yours until there's no way to separate them. So, with this ring" he then proceeded to grab your left hand so cautiously as if you would break at the minimum touch, and slip the golden ring in your finger "I, Finnick Odair, swear to protect, satisfy and devote myself to you ; my friend, my savior and now my spouse. I can't wait to spend the rest of my days with my forever love, which happens to be you" He had always hated to see you cry, even if they were happy tears, so he had to insert a little joke to see you chuckle and be able to hear the most beautiful sound on Earth ; your laugh.

You could sense that your voice would betray you at the minimum attempt to speak, so you needed to rush through your vows before you would explode into tears "God Finnick, you always know how to leave me speechless." the guests all laughed, moved by the evident complicity between the two of you.

"I always knew you were my soulmate, the person I was meant to find. The love I carry for you in my heart used to feel too heavy, but now that I get to set it free, it's more like energy rushing though my whole body, healing all the broken parts. I have the privilege to experience how it feels being loved by you and I want to try and describe it for all our friends who are here today" you breathed in and out and kept talking "Being loved by you feels like being rocked by the sea, like waking up to the smell of freshly baked goods or like being tucked into a warm bed in wintertime. It's exiting, comforting, amusing and an insane amount of other things that I could say right now" you recited while staring at his piercing green eyes that were completely red and filled with tears . You caressed his cheek and tried to wipe them away. "I will always follow you wherever you go, until the end of time. That's what I've always wanted to do and I couldn't be more exited about spending the rest of my life with such a handsome and amazing man. I love you."

Before you could do or say anything else, Finnick held your face between his hand and kissed you like he had been wanting to do since the ceremony started. You said 'I love you' and he said nothing back, but it wasn't so bad this time.

TAGLIST : @bambikitten , @thefourrealms , @shooting-a-star-at-the-moon , @justtrying2getby .

#the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair fanfic #the hunger games imagine #the hunger games fanfiction #male reader #female reader #gender neutral reader

[dawndelion-winery]

Fortune's Blessing

Meeting the God of Luck! Reader

Ft. Capitano(pt.2), Diluc, Dottore(pt.2), Pantalone(pt.2), Zhongli

Part 1

Capitano:

Fortune favours the bold

Or so he's heard, which is why he's once again at your altar, flowers in hand, along with his usual offerings

He takes more time in getting to his requests with each visit ever since you've started entertaining him in person

Terrible, really, the way he stalls, smoothly transitioning between topics the moment he sees you begin to lose interest

He knows there's only so long s mere mortal could hold your attention

Still he tries, adamant to make it work, to leave an impact on you, even if only a fraction of the impact you've had on him

Perhaps it really was time to be bold - what he planned to do would toe the line between courage and foolishness

"What is it you wish me to bless this time, Captain?" You murmur, tilting his chin to have him look at you as he knelt at your feet. He rose, kissing the back of your hand in reverence. Had you been anything but a god, you would have surely melted stthe intensity of his gaze, so steadfast and sure as he looked at you like there was nothing else in the world.

"It is a more...personal endeavour this time, Fortune." You raised an eyebrow at the captain prompting him to continue.

Diluc:

He's never considered himself particularly lucky or unlucky

Nor does he consider himself a devout believer of any god

Like yeah sure, gods exist, good for them, not his problem

Y'all failed him and let his dad die

So his first offering had been more of a formality since you were a friend of their archon and chose to visit their fair land of Mond

It just do happened his wine was the finest you'd tasted, and he found himself in much good fortune over the next few days

It felt odd to him, suddenly having this much good fortune after turning into a recluse

Greater still was his shock when you sat comfortably in his living room when he arrived home

"You are young lord Ragnvindr, yes?" you asked gleefully. "Your offering was received with much gratitude, and I am most regretful to inform you that it has run out."

He blinked a few times as you smiled at him expectantly. "You're...Fortune..." You nodded enthusiastically. "And you...you're asking for more wine?" His question sounded clipped, as though he were weighing the consequences of acquainting himself with yet another alcoholic god.

"Indeed, I took the liberty of installing a small shrine by your cellar for your convenience."

Your words left Diluc sighing, yet he couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips as you left.

Dottore:

Attention whore.

You thought you were dealing with a genius mad scientist?

Well, technically yes, BUT he is also an attention whore

Why did you not shower him with praise when he showed you the experiments he had used your luck for?

He takes it as your cue to him that he hasn't impressed you sufficiently

Which does make him grumpier

And he's not professional enough to hide it

"Take a look at this, Fortune."

You nodded in response, gingerly lifting the small device from his hands and raising it to the light to observe it. Your face remained impassive since you didn't really understand just what you were looking at, but of course, to Dottore, he'd expect a god to know these things.

"Well?" Dottore tapped his foot impatiently, his gleeful smile fading, slowly replaced by a frustrated scowl when all you comment is that "it's nice". Only nice?

The little office chair he pulled out for you is now carting you off around the lab to look at larger scale projects at speeds it was certainly not designed for.

Pantalone:

It's an investment, as you should know

Except luck is always a gamble, and who's to say his competitors don't worship you as well?

He finds out the hard way that his competitors were, in fact petty enough to come together and pool their offerings to one up his offerings

He does call for a business meeting with you over dinner

Enjoy it? Lovely, he certainly hopes you do

Gives you an ultimatum, in a way, because at the end of the day, he's got more to offer you long term

"Forsake them, Fortune. Whatever it is you want from me, it's yours. Is that not tempting enough of an offer to you?"

He's batting his eyes at you, plastering a pleading expression on his face, but you can tell it's an act. You know full well he'd cope just fine even if you declined, that this was just the most direct way out for him. Yet you found yourself caving for the sly, coy grin that tugged at his lips. So against your better judgement you agree. For a second, you note how serpentine his victorious smirk looks, and he seems to believe he has you trapped in his coils. No matter. It amused you for the time being; and you would continue to humour him for as long as he intrigued you.

Zhongli:

It's been a while since he's met another god who wasn't one of the seven

Heck, it's been ages since he'd even seen the seven, each of them preoccupied with their own affairs

So he's more than obliged to show you around, to accompany you when you visit Liyue

He has no need for luck, just as you have no need for material wealth

It's an odd sort of comfort, not being exalted, and it feels like two ordinary old friends walking along the harbour together

The two of you definitely jokingly exchange gifts as "offerings" and tease each other about your respective abilities

"Do you recall our contract?" Zhongli mused as he fidgeted with a single mora, rolling it between his fingers.

"Which? When you were only known as Morax? Or when you first were revered as Rex Lapis?"

"From our first farewell." You nodded, thinking back to that moment, back when Zhongli had kept his hair more unkempt, and worn the most fitted of shirts, flaunting the geo lines that adorned his arms. Back then, he'd lost Guizhong not long ago, and it was beginning to get lonely as more and more of his friends succumbed to erosion. So he'd proposed a contract, that no matter what, as long as he remained in Liyue, you'd one day return.

"Well, I did return," you hummed. "That you did," he agreed. "And I'd like to propose the same contract when you depart again. Something to look forward whole you're away."

Taglist:@myluvkeiji @aqui-soba @favonius-captain @tiredsleep @raincxtter @gensimping-for-all @irethepotato @almond-adeptus @mx-kamisato @chaosinanutshell @heizours @haliyamori @callmemeelah @sadlonelybagel @plinkuro @thevictoriousmoon @mastering-procrastinating @cxlrose @astrequa @eowinthetraveler @ajaxstar @boundedbyfate @the-lost-anime-dad @moonbyunniee @greyrain23 @heavenlyfloof

Commissioned by @monstersealclubber

#astronetwrk #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #capitano #dottore #diluc #pantalone #zhongli #capitano x reader #diluc x reader #dottore x reader #pantalone x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin capitano #genshin diluc #genshin dottore #genshin pantalone #genshin zhongli #diluc ragnvindr #regrator #morax #diluc ragnvindr x reader #regrator x reader #morax x reader #winery specials

[vulpisnocturna]

hello <3 i hope you’re doing well! could i please request prompt 7 and 14 for Itachi? thank you in advance hehe

It would be my pleasure ;)

7: Power Imbalance

14: Rough Sex

Masterlist

Kinktober Day 2: Power Imbalance with Itachi

Warnings: power imbalance, praise, fingering, vaginal sex, rough sex, creampie, no massacre au

You let out a slight huff as you listened to your Captain drone on about mission duties. You found him to be patronising. He wasn’t mean, he was quite polite, actually, but his tone reminded you of a teacher scolding a petulant child. You were no child, and though he might have been a more experienced ANBU and your Captain, you were still Lieutenant, and you weren’t weak by any means.

‘Are you listening to me?’ he quipped, smooth, deep voice slightly irked, as if he thought you immature.

‘Yes. You said follow orders. Got it’ you said, crossing your arms and staring at him. The room of the inn you were staying in for the night was cold, and your uniform did not provide much coverage.

‘I said that five minutes ago’ he lifted a dark eyebrow, pinching the bridge of his nose as though he was tired of you. 

‘Did the topic of your monologue change since then?’ you snapped, disliking his attitude. For someone so impassive, his irritation was sure seeping through the cracks of his calm façade.

‘I detect some hostility, paired with clear insubordination’ he said. 

‘Not to be rude, Captain, but it’s hard to respect you when you speak to me in such a patronising tone’ you said, aware that even though you had prefaced your sentence with that disclaimer, your tone would be considered rude. But you trusted your captain to be able to have a conversation around the weight of the argument and not rules.

‘It’s hard for you to follow my orders is what I am gathering from your tone- which is, once again, impudent’ he said, tapping his fingers on his toned bicep. You let out a sigh, rubbing your tired eyes.

‘I’m being honest here. If you want the teamwork, you gotta work for it’ you said, sure that by being more forward with your complaints you could make some steps in the right direction. Itachi was a reasonable guy, a patient one, even though you knew well not to push him too far. 

‘I see. I cannot have a subordinate who clearly revels in defying me. It could prove utterly dangerous in a mission’ he said, looking down at you. Your brow furrowed, and you swallowed, shaking your head.

‘You can’t fire me’

‘I am not going to fire you. I am going to teach you how to follow orders. Despite your… shortcomings, you are a capable kunoichi, and I cannot replace you. Therefore, you are going to have to learn’ he said, his face unreadable. Your lips parted, and you took a step towards him, overtaken by annoyance at him saying you had shortcomings but also butterflies in your stomach at the words that had followed his backhanded compliment.

‘What do you mean sh-‘ you started to say, but was interrupted when Itachi closed the distance between you and placed his hands on your waist, his head dipping to kiss your neck. You let out a soft gasp, your heart hammering in your chest as Itachi’s- your Captain’s lips pressed against your pulse point, tracing your artery to the junction of your shoulder and neck, where you could not contain a small whimper.

‘Captain, what-’ you breathed, your mouth dry as Itachi continued kissing, making you feel hot all over.

‘Do you trust your Captain? Or are you incapable of that too?’ he murmured against your ear, nipping at your lobe, ‘you need be taught a lesson on rules. I believe enjoyable lessons often lead to better results, considering my monologues do not seem to work on you’ 

You could not believe your ears. Itachi wanted his lesson to be delivered through fucking? Not that you would stop him, Gods, he was the most attractive man you had ever met, but how was this going to teach you how to follow mission rules?

‘I- trust you. But how is this going to help you?’ you whispered, your face growing hot as Itachi’s hand slid to your ass, cupping and squeezing.

‘That’s all I need to know. No more questions’ he said again, voice low and seductive, just before he turned you, wrapping his arms around you, sucking on your neck.

You let out a soft moan, pressing your ass against him, to which he chuckled.

‘The first thing you need to learn’ he drawled, one hand lifting to knead your breasts, ‘is patience. Until I say it’s time, you wait. Understood?’ 

You weren’t sure you were following him, but you nodded a little, and Itachi hummed in a satisfied tone, helping you take off your undershirt. He must have taken off his too, because your next contact with him was skin to skin. The pad of his fingers grazed your nipple, and you shivered, now rutting against the bulge in his trousers.

‘Stay still. Patience, pretty girl’ he said, pinching your nipple harshly when you didn’t listen to him and rolled your hips against him again. You whimpered, squirming, to which his teeth sank on your shoulder, making you moan loudly.

‘The more you disobey, the rougher I will get. And if you continue, I won’t let you cum’ he said, and you gritted your teeth, the pressure in your lower stomach growing along with your impatience.

Itachi was slow but deliberate as he rolled your nipples between his fingers, completely ignoring your lower body to the point where you thought you might implode soon. You tried to pull his hand lower, but he clucked his tongue, one hand squeezing your throat, long, willowy fingers pressing on the sides.

‘What did I just say? Lesson two: you ask me for permission. You do not act by yourself without my knowledge’ he said, and you closed your eyes, biting down on your bottom lip.

‘Can you touch me, Captain?’ you tried, hating the way you had to ask him to do it. And yet, at the same time, it was turning you on. The power he had, the control he had stripped from you in a matter of seconds…

‘Good girl’ he crooned, and you swore a small moan left your lips at his words. He yanked down your trousers, cupping you between your legs, applying some pressure.

‘See? It seems you enjoy obedience after all’ he said, dragging his fingers over your clothed cunt. Your hips twitched, and your face flushed at the humiliating comment. He slid his hand under your panties, two fingers easily pushing inside you. He curled them, and you stopped breathing for a second, a lewd moan pouring out of your lips as he found the perfect spot. 

‘Ahh- Captain…’ you breathed, one arm lifting to anchor yourself to his nape.

You started moving your hips into his hand, and his fingers curled on your hip, keeping you still.

‘I did say stay still, darling’ he said, pumping his fingers in and out, the palm of his hand rubbing against your sensitive clit, making you whine for him. 

‘Keep going- I’m close’ you keened, a distressed groan tearing through you as he stopped, slipping his fingers out of you.

‘Lesson three: what I say goes. You don’t call the shots’ he said, pushing you on the futon, taking off your trousers and soaked panties, taking off the remainder of his clothes and climbing on top of you.

He wasted no time, thrusting inside you, tearing a whine from you and a soft groan from him. 

‘Fuck- so tight’ he murmured, gripping your thigh, bottoming out and thrusting back in. 

‘Captain- fuck…’ you let out, your nails embedded in the pale skin of his upper back. He latched onto your neck again, sucking harshly.

‘Now, it will be rough, as a consequence for your behaviour in this mission’ he said, starting at a relatively slow pace, but his thrusts were deep, pressing against your g-spot and making you see stars and squeeze around him. You nodded, your eyes dazed as Itachi lifted one of your legs and quickened the pace, making it hard and fast, until tears were prickling at the corners of your eyes and your cunt was pulsing around him, a devastating orgasm washing you.

But he did not relent. He lifted your other leg, slamming his hips against you, letting out soft moans and grunts, the tip of his cock grazing your cervix, making you unable to speak or think, even when he released one of your legs in order to wrap his fingers around your throat once again. You could feel him everywhere, dragging along your walls, stretching you out, the slight upward tilt of his cock deliciously pressing against your g-spot in a way that made you lose your damn mind.

‘Ahh- I-tachi… Captain…’ you moaned, clawing at the blanket until your knuckles whitened and ached.

‘Lesson four: learn politeness. Now ask nicely’ he said relentlessly, the shadow of a smirk on his face, his eyes now red with his sharingan. You stared at him, entranced, your own eyes bleary and expression dazed from just how good it felt. 

And yet, you didn’t want to have to beg for it. Didn’t want to stoop that low, even if he was your Captain, even if he felt so good-

He slipped out of you, turning you on your stomach, lifting your hips up and spreading your thighs with his knee, sinking back into you, his hand fisting your hair and pulling as he smacked your ass hard. You whined, biting down on your lip.

‘Ask nicely, and I will let you cum’ he said, fingers digging in your hip as he continued to fuck you, though he was avoiding your g-spot on purpose, and in this position, his cock reached even deeper, felt even bigger.

‘Fuck- please, Captain’ you moaned, and he clucked his tongue, seemingly displeased.

‘Please what? Words, darling. If you can manage them’ he taunted, and you cursed, tears staining your feverish cheeks.

‘Please, let me cum, Captain. Want it- so bad’ you cried out, and immediately, he rewarded you with his fingers on your clit, deft and skilled, and you felt the band in your stomach tighten and snap, releasing. Your cunt clamped around his cock, throbbing with your orgasm, and you heard him moan softly, fingers pulling on your hair even harder -not enough to hurt you, but enough to make you whine filthily for him.

‘That’s a good girl’ he huffed out, his own voice sounding breathy, as though he was close, ‘where can I-’

‘Cum inside me- please… on the pill- inside me’ you stammered, still coming down from your high, and he lifted you up, wrapping strong arms around you and burying his face in the crook of your neck as he let out a soft moan and spent himself inside you, pushing a few times before he stilled. 

He held you up, and you were grateful for it, unsure if you would have been able to stay upright if it weren’t for his arms.

He slipped out of you, helping you to lie back down as he leaned on his elbow, catching his breath. A minute later, he was already up, putting on a pair of trousers and disappearing in the bathroom. When he came back, he had a damp towel, which he used on your inner thighs, even after you told him you could clean yourself up.

‘Did you learn your lesson?’ he asked after you were both back in your clothes and lying down on the futon, and you turned to him in the dim light of the room, sucking in your lips to keep from grinning.

‘I’m not sure. Might need some revising’

#itachi uchiha smut #itachi #uchiha itachi #itachi uchiha #itachi smut #itachi x reader #itachi imagines #itachi x you #itachi x y/n #naruto smut

[rans-baby]

when they see you in someone else's jacket (pt. 2)

decided to do a pt. 2 with the men that i KNOW prefer to call you baby and princess ♡ also had to add some of @miyaniacsfaves :)

tw // bimbo-ish reader in koko's?, use of the word daddy

if y'all aren't in to that simply skip over it :) I like a variety of yn's: normal, bimbo, badass, you name it! so don't be surprised if you see a range in my writing

MANJIRO

mikey would say he's a pretty satisfied guy

he had japan's underground on lock, all the desserts he could ever ask for, and most importantly, you

he met you when you saved him from bleeding out in the streets right outside of the bakery you worked at, and he decided you were his from then on

he knew that everyone knowing about your relationship would put you in danger so he kept it under wraps for the most part, only mentioning it to the other executives

you were lowkey a bit insecure about this, and just being a regular civilian, you didn't really understand why he couldn't just tell everyone

"do you.. not want to be seen with me?" "no"

but he also failed to recognize how that came across because yes, he meant it but he didn't mean it the way that you were thinking

you silently left him alone and wandered out onto the streets lost in your thoughts, not even recognizing it was starting to rain until it started pouring

coincidentally, your male co-worker was walking on the same path and offered you his jacket

you gratefully took it and he was helping you put it on when mikey saw the two of you

now he's dealt with his dark impulses a few times in his life, but nothing compared to what he was feeling in that moment

he kept his usual impassive facade as he approached the both of you, seemingly ignoring the sound of the roaring blood in his ears and aggressive pounding in his head

he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, just tight enough to make you squirm

"who's this princess?"

but before you could respond your coworker interjected "oh is this your brother? nice to meet you!" he said with an outstretched hand

you could feel his grip tightening but your previous conversation ran through your head and you responded "this is just a friend"

he started gripping you even tighter causing you to tap on his arms to release you but he just responded by laying sloppy kisses on your neck causing you to let out a short gasp

"do I look like her brother?"

KOKONOI

sweet koko loves treating you, only the best for his pretty girl! but he knew you weren't in it for the money

which is why he was only mildly surprised when he saw you walk into his office in, was that h&m?

now he might be a ~material boy~ but he understood the practicality of having "normal" clothes on a day to day basis but what he couldn't understand was why it looked so big

it occurred to him when you went to go sit on his lap and he caught a whiff of cheap cologne

he has literally never dropped you so quickly

all you could do was look up at him with tears in your eyes while sprawled on the floor

"did I do something wrong daddy?"

he HATED seeing you cry, it was his least favorite feeling and this was especially true when he was the reason

"sorry princess couldn't help it"

he put you back on his lap and let you lay your head in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent

"so princess, wanna tell me where you got the jacket? promise I won't get mad"

you squinted like it was hard for you to remember exactly how it got on you

"oh it was a nice man's! he saw me at the mall and called me pretty then gave me his jacket and a little piece of paper with a bunch of numbers on it! :)"

koko prided himself on being the most level-headed of the executives in bonten, but that was still a low low bar and he was still an executive of the most powerful gang in japan

"you think you can show me the paper baby? just wanna give him his jacket back"

you slowly took off the jacket revealing a tight corset top and tiny tennis skirt that barely covered your ass

"'m bout to lose it" "what'd you say daddy?" "oh nothing princess, how about we look at gettin' you some new jackets, I think saint laurent just released a new collection that would make you even prettier" "really daddy?"

he loved when you got that sparkle in your eye because he knew it wasn't excitement about being able to use his money, it was because he knew that you knew it was his way of showing you his love

"yeah baby, gotta make up for lettin' you get cold and droppin' you. 'm sorry you know that right?"

most people assumed that he was only into you because of your looks, but he has never been more sincere in his life and it was all because of you

you brought such a warm light in his life, not overwhelming but enough to warm him and for the first time in his life, the warmth on his skin didn't scare him

WAKASA

wakasa preferred women who could fend for themselves, he barely had enough energy to fight for himself and most of the time he didn't need to

his hair was recognizable enough to where people knew not to mess with him

it didn't matter to him who knew of your relationship with him so it was pretty commonplace to see him in and outside the gym with you

he knew you could fend for yourself and loved that about you, but sometimes wished you were a little less stubborn and would accept his help

he'd offered you his jacket in the past but most of the time you took offense to it, thinking that he thought you were incapable of taking care of yourself so he stopped offering over time

you were sick one day and while he noticed you were shivering a bit, he figured you'd get angry if he offered his jacket so he kept it to himself

you secretly wanted to ask but your pride got in the way

you took a quick break and let him know you were gonna run to the convenience store

on the way to the convenience store, the dizziness starting kicking in and before you realized it, you were falling

you felt yourself fall into someone's arms and you thought it was your boyfriend's so you let him wrap his jacket around you but the unrecognizable scent broke you out of that train of thought

the fever made it impossible to break free of his grip

"hey pretty lady, seen you around here with that little boy. what'd you say about lettin' me take care of you? bet I could do it better than him"

on a normal day, you would've kicked his ass to the sun and back but the fever was really starting to get to you and all you could do was squirm

that was the scene wakasa stumbled into after deciding to chase after you because fuck your stubborn nature you were still his to take care of whether you liked it or not

he was, by nature, just not a flashy guy so he knew that people who didn't know of his reputation underestimated him and it never bothered him before now

before either of you knew what was happening, a flying kick was sent the creep's way and he snatched you from his arms

"now didn't baby tell you to leave her alone?"

right as the creep was about to retaliate, you mustered what strength you had left to rip the jacket off of your body and throw it in his face long enough to distract him as you landed three solid kicks on his torso, watching him crumple in pain

wakasa caught you in his arms right as you were about to fall

"wish you weren't so stubborn sometimes princess, but you know that's why I love you right?"

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #black dragons x reader #wakasa x reader #mikey x reader #kokonoi x reader #bonten x reader #tokyo revengers scenarios #tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers fluff

[wingsoverlagos]

This is a fun collection of quotes from the Let It Be Beatles Interview with Mark Lewisohn conducted on August 20, 2018. This is mostly for @mythserene's enjoyment, but it's also a fun lil supplement to this comment by @talking-perfectly-loud on a post by @anotherkindofmindpod, which includes some revealing, deeply salty quotes by Lewisohn from an episode of Nothing Is Real.

The below soundbites focus on Lewisohn's feelings towards the Harrison estate, particularly Olivia, though Lewisohn also lets us know that he considered suing George at one point. Italics used to indicate tone; bold font is added emphasis by me.

This is from ~1hr8min into the interview, after a discussion of Mal Evans diaries. Here's a partial transcript:

"No, no, Olivia Harrison doesn't want anything to do with me at all. Yeah, so it's very frustrating because I just want to make the history better and better and better and more and more correct, especially more and more correct in terms of balance on all four Beatles, but whatever."

This is a longer clip (6:26) from ~1hr23min in the original interview. They're discussing Lewisohn's falling out with Apple/the Beatles/George in particularly, which came about because he was falsely accused of bootlegging, or something like that. He's told a few variations of this story.

The first 3ish minutes give some flavor and backstory. Some choice quotes (they're at about 2:50, 4:35, and 5:42 in this clip):

“To the day he died, George blocked me, and Olivia blocks me in George’s name, and so it still carries on.”

“I’ve never, ever leaked, and that was why it was so galling to be accused of being a bootlegger. George Harrison accused me of being a bootlegger to my face in front of a whole film crew, the bastard. I mean, really. A horrible, horrible thing to do. I really should have done him for slander, and in fact at one point I was tempted, believe it or not. Because, you know, I’m a professional, I’m on a shoot, I’ve got a whole unit with me, and he’s accusing me of being a bootlegger in front of everybody, which was- he had no evidence for because there wasn’t any, but that didn’t matter. He was accusing me without evidence, and it was wrong, and um, you just have to put up with these things. These people, they can get away with murder. Celebrities, you know?”

Lest we think George was wilding out solely because of the bootlegging, Lewisohn helpfully clarifies that it was also Paul's Fault:

“The irony of that was that I actually had started off really well with George. I knew George from ’87, personally, and we’d had nice times, and it was- one of the things that flipped it was when I began working regularly for Paul.”

This was the part of the podcast that really took me aback, from around the 1hr43min mark. There's some chatter about Let It Be (the film), and then Lewisohn goes off once again about Olivia Harrison. He's quite impassioned, and then seems to make a conscious effort to talk himself down.

“I don’t know Olivia Harrison. I’ve never met her, which makes her- just- [angry] blocking of everything I do so ridiculous, because she doesn’t even know me. But if, as it would appear, she’s taken it upon herself to perpetuate George’s wishes, which is something that you might expect a spouse to do when their partner’s died, if the partner says, ‘Don’t ever allow this’, then she would take it as her duty not to allow it.”

This is followed by some hedging.

There are several other choice tidbits in this two hour Lewisohn marathon, but Olivia Harrison was foremost in his mind. But don't worry, guys, he's not biased!

#george harrison's last words were fuck mark lewisohn. hare krishna #CONFIRMED #olivia harrison get behind me #next substantiative post coming soon #just a bit of fun for now~ #mark lewisohn #tune in #lewi-sins

[harryhoney-bee]

Recently I've been dealing with a lot of stress and anxiety. I was wondering if you could write something about what Harry would do to calm you down.

Peace

Summary: Y/n has bad anxiety, but knows Harry is always there for her

Warnings: mentions os anxiety

Word count: less than 1k

I literally do not know how to write anymore it's been 2 years so im sorry for any mistakes

..

He knew something was wrong the moment he stepped foot into their shared flat. Y/N was usually right by the door whenever she heard him coming from the hallway, but the only creature who greeted him as Harry entered their home was Chimichurri, the old and - kinda ugly - cat Y/N had adopted when discovered it was the smallest one in the litter.

The cat rubbed its tail against Harry’s ley, which was covered by the heavy snow pants the man was wearing. He had just come back from a long day at the studio and all he wanted was to cuddle with his wife. 

Wife!

They got married a few months ago. It was a small ceremony, away from the public. Most people were even surprised it had happened so fast… They had been dating only a year before Harry put a rock - a rather big one- on Y/N’s finger. But what could they do? 

When you know, you know.

Harry bent down, just enough to scratch the poor cat's ear. “Hey Chimi, where’s your mom, huh? She's sleeping?” Cat waited a few seconds as if the cat was going to respond. “I told you, when I’m gone you are the one responsible for keeping her well.” 

The cat meowed in response, following Harry to the kitchen, where the purr ball knew he was going to get some treats. Harry opened the cabinet, took a package of Whiskas, and poured it into Chimichurri’s bowl. “Now you be a good boy and stay here while I go looking for mum, alright?”

Harry gave the cat a last glance before heading to their bed, where he expected to find his love. He could hear the faint sound of the TV on, and as he got closer he could identify the voices, it was Amy and Jake from Brooklyn 99. 

He sighed. This was a bad sign, Y/N only watched the Tv show if she was sad.

Waiting for the worst, Harry opened the door, finding Y/N wrapped around blanks, an impassive expression on her face. She didn’t hear him as he got closer to her. “Hey beauty,” Harry kissed her cheeks, smiling as the girl looked up to him, cracking a small smile. 

“I thought you were coming home later today,” Y/N whispered, feeling the prickling of his beard on her skin.

“Nah, couldn’t look at Mitch’s face anymore,” Harry joked. He carefully held her chin, making the girl while caressing her cheekbone with his thumb. “What happened, what got you down?”

Y/N's face initially showed surprise; she thought she had concealed at least a bit of her mental state, but she clearly forgot how well Harry could read her. She got closer to Harry, putting a hand on his chest and pushing him down. The couple laid on the bed, Y/N’s cheeks pressed to Harry's heart, hearing it beat. “I’m not well, H.”

‘I know you aren't, angel,” He turned his face down, looking at her eyes. “Tell me what it is and I’ll fix it, you know I will.! 

“I don’t think you can this time,” she whispered

Y/N battled with anxiety for a long time, something she would get so caught up in her head and now one could take her away from her thoughts. Harry was aware that the only person who could get Y/N better was herself, but he also knew how important his help was.

“Did you schedule with Marcia yet?” Harry asked. 

“No, could you? Please?” she asked with a small voice.

“Of course, love.” Marcia was Y/N’s therapist, it’s been some weeks since Y/N last saw her for an appointment, and it was time for another. Harry quickly got his phone, messaging Marcia’s receptionist. The room was quiet, only the sounds of Harry’s phone could be heard.

“Done,” he said, kissing Y/N lightly on the lips. “Wanna talk about it?” 

She took his hand, playing with his rings. “No, not right now…Maybe later?” She said uncertainly. 

Harry just nodded, kissing her forehead this time. “You know I'm here whenever you need me.”

“You are always here,” She whispered, “It gives me peace.”

“Knowing I’m here?” He whispered back.

“Yes.”

They fell asleep just like that, cuddling each other as Jake said something that made Amy laugh.

The next morning came by as a hope offering. 

Y/N was still asleep when Harry placed a plate full of chocolate pancakes in front of her. “Wha-What is that?” Y/N asked lazily, rubbing her eye off sleepiness.

“A sweet breakfast in bed for my sweet girl,” Harry responded, caressing Y/N's cheeks. “I know yesterday was not a good day for you, and I don’t know how today is gonna come by, but I’m here to make sure it all comes around ok.”

Y/N smiled as she quickly ate her pancakes, stealing kisses from Harry as he watched her happy, warmth in his chest whenever she looked at him.

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb

[soleilnomoon]

geto suguru x fem reader | issa toxic affair, y'all.

6.2k words (i know, i know), fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni; angst city, angst angst city biiitch (yk the vibes) & smut (obvy); feat. cute stuff like a lil' degradation, toxic ass relationship, a lil infidelity, obsessive love & jealousy, lovers 2 exes 2 enemies 2 lovers, public indecency, hand job, oral (f receiving), knife play, a lil bit of blood kink, alcohol, geto is a certified asshole & but reader gets him back, yandere reader bc i love being toxic, gojo makes an appearance! also idk other stuff probably idr ok; also reader is black bc i said she is. this is for @510hz's how to be a heartbreaker collab event (ty so much for letting me participate, i had fun truly). this was inspired by mariana's "power & control"; there's also a lil inspo from "the glory" in there, you'll see. it took me forever but i survived, i hope y'all survive reading this 🤭 (if u see typos/grammatical errors no u didn't)

“you horrify me. but at the same time, / i horrify myself. we are horrible.” – hélène cixous

there’s a name for the disease you have; it’s called foolishness, or, in layman’s terms: love.

your mother warned you long ago, to guard your heart — to ensure that no man could penetrate the thick walls encasing it — yet there you are, a silly, pathetic thing scurrying behind a man who would readily cast you aside if it suited him. you truly did resist him at first; you rebuffed his advances with polite smiles and curt responses, yet he persisted daily and, in hindsight, obsessively.

it’s in his nature, after all.

a man like geto suguru simply does not concede if his pride is on the line — and your initial rejection did, in fact, bruise his ego; although, he’ll never openly admit that.

when he does manage to wiggle his way into your heart, with his charming smiles, small gestures that you somehow misinterpret as kindness, you steadily fall for him. it’s not your fault, not really. geto is just that damn good at figuring people out; and with you, it wasn’t difficult. he found it remarkably easy to sway you, he almost felt bad.

almost.

the first few months are pure bliss; he picks you up promptly for dates, takes you to nice restaurants in the city, pays for spa days and shopping sprees — buys you things you never really allowed yourself to buy on your own, surprises you with lavish floral arrangements that make you cry needlessly over how tragically romantic he’s being. and, suddenly, your heart, which was so strongly protected, becomes vulnerable and falls under his control. it flutters around helplessly in the gilded cage he’s crafted for it — a too-tight fit, where every time you exhale you feel the thick bars pressing tightly and you suffocate — but still, love makes you think that all of this is worth it in the end.

as long as geto calls you his, that’s all that matters.

when he calls your phone, you pick up on the first ring, eager and desperate —to hear the dulcet tones embedded in his voice, the words saccharine and carefully picked; things you’ve always wanted to be told, he whispers them all to you before you fall asleep.

but the thing about geto is, boredom is never too far away from him.

it wraps itself around his arms one morning, slithers along and drenches his skin, completely warping his sense of morality — making him much more severe and uncaring than he normally is. all your cute, quirky traits become bothersome to him; he tires of your laugh, doesn’t care to see that sparkle in your eyes whenever he shows up at your front door, and listening to you drone on and on about things that you like bores him to tears.

when he fucks you, it’s impassively, as if it’s something he needs to tick off his list of weekly duties, rather than something he chooses to do because he genuinely wants to be intimate. you don’t question it at first, but it becomes painfully obvious — and awkward — when he leaves every time, not bothering to kiss you goodnight or even look your way. your mind is cruel one morning, when you reflect on how sex with geto is mostly about him getting off and not you; it never bothered you before, but as the months go on, it starts one of many tiny cracks in his veneer.

the rejection is unbearable — tangible in the way it makes you sluggish and depressed — but you deal with it; you must, after all, he’s the love of your life. you simply can’t imagine being with anyone else now.

geto becomes the very man your mother warned you about, but you ignore it without question.

love is work, you remind yourself for the umpteenth time as you sit in the back of your favorite restaurant, checking the time repeatedly and seeing that he still hasn’t shown. you’re in a modest dress with a slit down the side and you’ve already downed two glasses of wine without him. it’s been forty minutes, the server keeps checking on you, giving you pitying looks despite your smiles and insistence that your boyfriend is definitely on his way.

but the longer you sit there, the less sure of that you are.

eventually you leave; they don’t charge you for a thing and you thank them for their kindness — pity, really — and head home. you try calling geto and get his voicemail again; so you leave yet another teary message, this one more incoherent than the last two, and toss your phone onto your vanity before crying yourself the sleep. you don’t know what to do with this feeling — the hopelessness is eating you alive; or maybe it’s just the wine making you overly sensitive.

geto knows he’s an asshole and relishes in it.

he has his notifications silenced while he’s downtown with a few close friends, partying in an exclusive lounge, drinking until his head grows heavy. he doesn’t remember how he gets back to his place, and barely remembers who he fucked that night, but he does have the common decency to kick them out come morning. he’s hospitable like that. his head throbs as he scrolls through his phone, promptly ignoring the twelve texts from you and the fifteen missed calls. gojo called him heartless last night, which he thought was ridiculous — he has a heart, it just doesn’t always work properly; geto now assumes gojo was referring to his mistreatment of you.

something about that nags at him a little, so he decides to play nice and call you back. the phone continues to ring as he lounges on the plush couch in his living room, causing him to frown; very strange. you normally pick up for him right away, but you’re not answering. he should be concerned, but he chalks it up to you sleeping and decides to try again in an hour.

after his third time calling, annoyance turns into anger which fuels his petty jealousy.

what could you possibly be doing that would require you to ignore him — him — of all people?

“y/n,” he says as calmly as he can while his hand grips his phone tightly, it’s his fourth voicemail, but he doesn’t really care. “i don’t know what game you’re playing at, but i assure you… you won’t win.” he doesn’t elaborate past that, and instead throws his phone at the nearest wall — not bothering to pick it up once it clatters onto the hardwood floor. his anger surprises him; subduing certain emotions is an art for him, so all of this feels very new and uncomfortable.

he tells himself this weakness is only temporary, and that you’ll come to your senses too. except, you don’t. you don’t call him back; you don’t bother texting, and you don’t listen to his voicemails until three days later. when geto finds you, you’re in the middle of rewatching your favorite show for the tenth time, eating leftover pizza in your pajamas.

with his nose wrinkled, geto shuffles through your apartment, taking note of the pile of dishes in your kitchen and the way you’ve completely let go of yourself. he’s appalled that a woman like you has succumbed to the frivolities that accompanies hurt feelings. he even says as much to you when you fail to greet him or acknowledge his presence.

it's when he turns off the tv, that you blink several times, sluggish and confused before realizing that the beautiful man before you is not a figment of your imagination.

“suguru,” you sound his name out like it’s unfamiliar, your tongue thick from keeping quiet these past few days; your mind’s a mess, you’re still reeling from the betrayal of him clearly abandoning you, discarding you like you’re just a toy that he’s long forgotten on the street. he snaps his fingers impatiently in front of your face to get your attention again.

“wh-what is it?”

he frowns again. “what do you mean ‘wh-what is it’?” his mockery of your voice and his accompanying sneer is unbecoming of him, you think, but you don’t say that out loud; instead you put down the pizza you were nibbling and yawn languidly.

“you don’t have to be an ass,” you remark carefully, finally glancing up at him as though you’re seeing him for the first time. love muddled your vision, but now you can see geto suguru for all that he is. a liar, a conman, a shitty human being; but most importantly, he’s still the love of your life. you take that last bit seriously; maybe a little too seriously.

but love has a way of making you foolish in ways that are incomprehensible to others.

geto narrows his eyes at you before his lips twitch and he laughs at your insolence. “okay, that’s fair. i did stand you up, after all.”

you turn back to the tv and shrug, flicking a few crumbs off your shirt. “doesn’t matter. what’s done is done.”

for some reason, your apathy agitates him greatly. your tone is off — detached, devoid of the usual joviality that you have whenever he’s around; he figures that he deserves that, but he knows you won’t be mad at him for long. you never are.

“don’t get ahead of yourself, y/n,” his words drift through the air, venomous and well-practiced — he’s mastered the art of tearing down others without even trying — his annoyance reaches its peak when you ignore him and he exhales loudly, as if the entire situation has bored him to death. “since you obviously don’t give a damn about my presence,” he starts, not bothering to hide his malice or irritation, “i’ll give you what you want.”

which is space. permanently — at least, that’s what he thinks you want anyway. he slams the copy of your apartment key onto the coffee table — something that would’ve made you flinch days ago, but you’re so numb you barely notice.

it’s unbelievable that after a year, this is how you treat him; maybe it’s for the best that he’s breaking up with you. after all, he’d never be able to tolerate you having the upper hand in the breakup. still, it does concern him a bit that you’re not reacting in the way you usually would; did he honestly break your heart that badly that you’ve taken to retreating to the far recesses of your mind? not that it matters to him; you served your purpose and wore out your welcome eight months ago.

he just needed a reason to end it.

once he leaves, you feel like you can breathe again. and after a few minutes, you realize what just happened. you scramble off the couch, heart beating rapidly, palm slick with perspiration as you yank open the door and call out to him.

but he’s long gone; already driven off, ready to take on the world without you.

you wear your rejection like a bruise that won’t ever heal; each word said, each call and text ignored, is like a punch in the same spot over and over.

will you ever be able to move on properly?

it’s not really his problem if you can or can’t get over him, as he’s already moved on within the hour. the thing about geto is, he always assumes he’s the one in control — that he holds all the cards in his hands; but he isn’t. he forgets that you’re entirely too observant for your own good, curious, resourceful, and lethal when provoked long enough. you foolishly grab your car keys and drive to his place in the middle of the night; you ignore traffic lights, drive faster than necessary, swerve in and out of traffic as a fit of madness course through your veins.

love continues to delude you into thinking that there’s a way to fix it all; there has to be, it’s the only thing you can believe in right now.

you think about ringing his doorbell, think about calling and texting, think about just banging on his window and demanding he let you in. but you don’t. instead, you lean against your car, dark, heavy clouds looming over that part of the city as rain comes down hard and practically oppressively.

but you don’t move.

you stand there, shivering; soaked from head to toe, hands balled into fists — his last words playing over and over in your mind, like a song you can’t seem to forget. and every time you hear his voice, your heart shatters a little more; you imagine he’s having fun inside, laughing with gojo and whatever new flavor he’s decided to whet his appetite with. you want to give him the benefit of the doubt; maybe he’s having a bad week? maybe he didn’t mean to break up with you; but the longer you try to convince yourself, the sharper his betrayal becomes.

the truth is bitter, inedible, and harsh; it clamps around your mind as the remnants of your heart morphs into ash.

you bite your tongue hard enough to draw blood, but you don’t feel it; how can you, after all that’s happened?

eventually, you hop into your car and drive to your best friend’s house — she’s the only one you can go to, now that you’ve realized that geto is serious about leaving you. after pouring your heart out and downing a few more glasses of wine, your best friend takes you by the shoulders and shakes you repeatedly.

“y/n,” she says calmly, eyes soft and warm, “honestly, babe, you need to move on from him. is he worth all of this trouble?” you consider her question, roll your bottom lip in between your teeth before answering properly.

“of course, he is,” you say quietly, and then a little louder, “my love for him is so strong that i actually think i hate him.” you’ve never seen your best friend so speechless in your life, but there she is, unable to formulate an appropriate enough response to talk you out of this.

but the thing is, as soon as those words leave your mouth, it finally clicks; all the pieces to the jigsaw puzzle set perfectly in place. how could you have been so foolish?

you love him so much that you hate him, and your hatred is so strong that it can only be perceived as love. it’s irrational, maddening, incredibly toxic; but you revel in it. you know what you need to do, you just need time to do it.

days blend into weeks, and weeks to months; you sell your soul to get back your dignity, that determination that geto stupidly overlooked continuously fuels your quest for revenge. you disappear from the city, change your phone number, leave your apartment, and become a nonthreatening ghost from geto’s past. he forgets about you every time he sleeps with someone else, forgets about you whenever he goes on vacation, forgets about you as he whispers the same sweet things to another over and over and over again.

his ego is something to be marveled, and he feels a little unstoppable these days.

six months later, geto finds himself at a stuffy gala — one that his company’s holding to legally siphon money from the upper 1% under the guise of philanthropy — and spends most of the night dodging gojo’s questions over another failed relationship.

“you really don’t think you’re the problem?” gojo says in between sips of champagne, eyeing his best friend through his dark shades, and smiling as if he already knows the answer to that particular question.

geto lets out a frustrated groan and rolls his eyes. “i’m not doing this with you.” because the last thing he needs, is gojo killing his buzz. he glances at the people in attendance, dark eyes flicking over each guest, seemingly uninterested in any of them until you walk in.

he’s not sure it’s you at first, as your beauty captivates him in a way that doesn’t make sense to him. you’re in a pair of heels that look equal parts elegant and enticing, a shimmering, gold gown with a plunging neckline and incredibly high slit. the color offsets the warm undertones of your rich, brown skin that seems silky and otherworldly under all the lights in the room. geto blinks several times, almost as if he can’t believe that it’s you. and, if it wasn’t for gojo making comments about how he didn’t realize you had curves like that, geto might’ve believed you were a figment of his imagination.

how the tables turn.

your date escorts you to a table towards the back, one that’s close enough that geto can watch you properly. something about you is different. he’s not sure if it’s the confidence you exude as you smile coyly at some of the other guests, plump lips curving upward whenever another man asks to make your acquaintance. you keep your head held high, graceful, as if you belong with that crowd — even though geto knows you don’t. you’d never be able to come to an event like this on your own, but he isn’t upset about that.

what he’s upset at, is your date’s hand lingering on your thigh, thumb caressing your knee as he leans over to whisper something in your ear; that’s your cue to smile demurely and swat at his hand. the laugh is well timed — you even throw your head back, offering geto a full view of your elongated neck and round breasts that cling to the fabric of your gown. you excuse yourself under the guise of going to the restroom, and walk past geto without glancing at him — it’s difficult, you so badly want to turn and watch his reaction, but you keep strong, hips swaying as you take the first hallway on your left.

he’s not sure if it’s curiosity, jealousy, or insanity that drives him to get out of his seat and stalk after you. geto was done with you, he knew that — you knew that — but there he is, chasing you like some lovesick teen that can’t seem to get their unrequited crush out of their head. thankfully, the hallway is empty, so when he rounds the corner, he finds you standing there, checking out your reflection in your compact mirror. you feign surprise when you realize someone’s there, one that morphs into temporary confusion before you smile sweetly at your ex-boyfriend.

“well, isn’t this a fun surprise,” you say airily, a sly smile tumbling onto your lips as you make your way over to him. he’s somehow forgotten how to breathe while simultaneously forgetting that you always looked like this — overwhelmingly beautiful and alluring — he just insisted you dress plain on purpose. you like that he’s speechless; you like that his eyes haven’t left you since you walked into the gala. when you get close enough that he can see just how long and thick your lashes are, he finally snaps out of his stupor — somewhat.

“y/n,” he says belatedly, a bit of awe and amusement coloring his voice, “i’m surprised to see you.” what he really wanted to say, was that he’s trying to remember why he broke up with you in the first place — because nothing comes to mind. not when you reach your hand to delicately tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear, not when you intentionally place your hand on his chest, and call out his name softly, almost like a whisper before you take a step back.

“i changed my number,” you say in order to drive the point home and pluck your new phone out of your clutch. “and i moved, but i’d love to catch up with you.” he doesn’t say anything when you type your contact information in his phone and when your lips brush against his cheek, he’s reminded of just how much he adored you initially. he wants to ask why you’ve suddenly come back, but the words stick to the roof of his mouth — thick and impossible to remove, slowly rotting through his common sense. it must be some absurd act of possession that has him pull you close enough to brush his lips against yours; you relish in the nostalgia of the moment, with memories of him kissing you spontaneously during your dates — after all, you’ve been in this position so many times before.

the difference? your claws are sharper, dipped in one of the most potent poisons in the world — hatred.

but you have a role to play now: the naïve ex-girlfriend, who knew nothing of the world before meeting him. geto’s ego knows no bounds when you part your lips for him effortlessly, back arching as he runs his hand down it; his fingers are cool against your exposed skin and you shiver from the contact. he smirks at that, liking that he can still get that sort of reaction out of you. time is essential now, so you kiss him suddenly — your lips soft, supple, and sweet as ever.

geto uses that opportunity to slip is tongue inside of your mouth and familiarizes himself with your taste. you whimper softly and he smirks, thinking that he’s somehow won you over all over again, especially when you drag your nails down the back of his neck, scratching his skin without a care. they’re much sharper than he’s known them to be, and while the sting is tolerable, it’s also annoying. yet he can’t seem to pry himself away; your body feels perfect against his, and you surprise him once again when you rub your hand against his cock. geto’s never known you to be that bold before — and in public too? your kiss transforms into something much demanding, and before he realizes it, you’ve unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants.

a heat passes through both of you — and you almost forget yourself as you fall into a familiar dance, kissing him fervently as you wrap your hand around his cock. it stiffens almost immediately, a painful reminder that he’s still impossibly attracted to you, despite what he told himself months ago. you get drunk off of the power you hold over him — the man who mercilessly crushed your heart and left you alone to deal with the aftermath — and have to remind yourself that you’re only supposed to tease him a bit.

his breathing grows uneven, and it’s comical how he’s forgotten that anyone can easily walk in on you two — he just doesn’t care. he’d fuck you in front of everyone just to prove a damn point. your hand strokes faster, twisting as it moves up and down his thick length, his skin hot and smooth, keeping you in a daze. it’s always been like that with you — getting so hopelessly caught up in him that you forget anything else exists.

a voice in the back of your mind tells you to slow down, but you ignore it — the thrill of feeling each jerk of his hips has you moaning into his mouth, breathlessly kissing him like you have all the time in the world.

except you don’t.

the reality of that hits you faster than you’d like, so you bite his lip hard enough to draw blood. you pull away after, almost innocently and lick the blood off of him. the move practically pushes him over the edge, and he has to tell himself that he shouldn’t try fucking you in that hallway. you do your best to catch your breath and blink slowly as you both look at each other. to give yourself a bit of an edge, you swipe your thumb against the tip of his cock and admire the precum on your hand. you bring it up your lips, tongue gliding against your skin to savor the taste of him. it’s a polarizing and captivating experience; something about that makes him want to kiss you all over again, but he refrains from doing so, instead focusing on tucking himself in and fixing his clothes properly.

if you were cruel, you’d take a picture of this moment — of geto with a slightly heaving chest, flushed cheeks, confusion etched on his face as if he doesn’t understand why he let himself get carried away like that. your lipstick is smeared prettily against his lips — red, intoxicating, and ominous.

you smile at that; happy that you’ve successfully integrated yourself into his life again.

“let’s… pick this up again sometime,” your voice has a strange lilt to it — coy and musical, dangerously sultry. his heart skips a beat, and he thinks he’s gone mad; geto doesn’t swoon or obsess the way others do for him. but you’re different now, much more interesting, and mysterious. he knows there’s something wrong with this picture, but he can’t seem to connect the dots just yet.

he doesn’t get another chance to talk to you, as your date keeps you busy most of the night; you don’t bother looking at geto until the end of the event, where you wiggle your fingers at him before leaving.

as soon as you get into your date’s car, you get a text message from a number you’ve memorized by heart and smile as you mentally list all the things you need to do before your revenge can be complete.

little does he know, you haven’t moved at all; you still own your old apartment, but you don’t stay there. you temporarily moved into your childhood friend’s place — a ritzy, luxurious high-rise apartment by the beach — while they travel for work out of the country. it’s all for show, of course; you need geto (and gojo, by extension) to think you’ve somehow elevated yourself financially, that you’re successfully integrated into similar social circles, that you can casually score invites to lavish events that cater to the wealthy elite. after changing out of your gown and into something comfortable, you decide to pay a visit to your old place; it’s mostly empty, save for your old bedroom.

you poured your savings into surveillance equipment, have monitors set up around the room, have hundreds of candid pictures of geto and the people he frequently associates with over the past six months plastered all along the walls. you’ve scribbled out his face in most of the pics, and have drawn lines and arrows, written incoherent notes to yourself — making connections and scenarios so that your contingency plans are unshakeable.

geto texts you again and you smile to yourself, loving the way you’ve already slithered into his mind after one brief conversation with him. he doesn’t realize you’ve been watching him all this time, doesn’t realize that you placed cameras in his home, doesn’t realize that you have unfiltered access to his computer and phone — it pays to have friends who dabble in those things.

you make some tea before sitting on the cushy computer chair as you watch geto stress over you not texting him back; you chuckle and spin around in your chair, elation building up in your chest, rattling that gilded cage around your heart. he’s so stupid, it’s almost too easy; you open the text thread with him, start typing out a bogus response for a few minutes, then delete it and leave him on read.

it takes him half an hour to really lose his mind over you not texting him back, and all you can do is laugh until tears fall out of your eyes.

you want him to fall so hopelessly in love with you, that you become his very reason for living and breathing. then you want to carve out his heart and leave him behind. a perfect plan, really; there are some kinks you still need to iron out, but you know, in time, that everything will go as planned.

uneasiness settles into geto’s stomach over the next few weeks; you barely text him back, and when he calls, you’re always busy. it’s foolish the way he’s pining after you; he knows it’s just because he hasn’t seen you in a long time, but something about you is just so… different. the way you abruptly cut conversations short with him, how you keep rescheduling lunch and dinner with him; how you intentionally let yourself be seen on social media with various men and women. and even when he wants to delete your number and block you, he can’t seem to do it.

because there’s no logical reason why he should be upset. you two aren’t dating anymore, this is just his lust-ridden brain taking hold of his common sense. or, that’s what he keeps telling himself.

when you do manage to see him for dinner one night, you tease him mercilessly and without remorse. at first, geto thinks he has control over the flow of the conversation. you keep blushing whenever he strokes your palm, giggle appropriately when he bumps his knee against yours, and act demure when he gives you permission to order anything off the menu. and you do; the guilt you used to feel is nowhere to be found, instead you thrive in the high that accompanies spending his money frivolously.

in return, you slide your foot up along his leg — slow and tenuous, the first course in your act to capture his heart completely — flirt heavily without restriction and encourage him to keep ordering drinks. geto grows tired of dragging things out and insists you continue the evening back at his place.

“oh,” you say softly and, after a long drawn out moment, your lips curve into a knowing smile.

after you’re both full and pleasantly tipsy, he takes you to his place; in his mind it won’t be long before he has you begging him to fuck you — and then he can finally be rid of this ridiculous obsession. you barely make it through the door because his hands are all over you, tugging roughly on your dress to take it off of you. if you weren’t so determined to see this through, you’d laugh — at his eagerness, at his annoyance with the matter, at your uncanny ability to fool him into thinking that you really want him back.

you lay on his bed, legs spread wide, arousal dripping from your folds as he kisses along the inside of your thighs. normally, geto is an incredibly selfish lover — but tonight, he busies himself with devouring you entirely. almost like he’s trying to make up for lost time. your skin is littered with bite marks and hickeys, but you don’t mind; a few battle scars are necessary in the long run. an unprecedented hunger takes hold of his mind — drives him to eat your pussy with vigor and passion. you roll your hips forward, nipples hard as you moan his name loudly.

he likes how you’re falling apart for him — and only him; you tug on his hair roughly, nails raking against his scalp when he flicks his tongue against your throbbing clit. you forgot that when geto puts his mind to something, he really puts in work; his cock is stiff, but he chooses to ignore it for the sake of watching you writhe on his bed, hand pulling on his bed sheet as soon as he slips his lithe fingers inside of you. he pumps them in and out, fast and hard; you bite down on your bottom lip to keep from screaming, but you lose your composure quickly.

the orgasm leaves you panting and whimpering, softly moaning when geto continues to lap at your pussy, despite how sensitive you feel. you get on all fours without prompting and rub your ass against his cock. the sight is erotic and has him gliding the tip of his cock along your wet pussy, an act that wholly surprises him, even more so when he barely gives you warning before driving his cock inside of your tight hole.

again, he wonders what is different; he’s fucked you more times than he can count, and yet this feels completely new — as if you’re not you, but someone else. and he’s so close to the truth, yet so far away that you try your best not to laugh, even as he powers into you over and over, his cock thick and imposing as his pace picks up.

he knocks his hips against you, strokes lethal but pleasurable. you hiss when he grabs a fistful of your hair, but you let him do it anyway — you want to bide your time before the big finale, of course. geto’s mind melts the longer his cock is inside of you, your plush, warm walls tight around him, squeezing in a way that has him moaning your name out loud.

it surprises him, actually, but he doesn’t stop himself; if anything, he’s more invigorated as he continues to fuck you like you’re the only one he ever thinks about. and, while it probably is true, you also know geto more than he knows you. he pulls out of you suddenly, half in a daze and entirely hooked on your body, and slaps your ass before telling you to ride him instead.

it's almost too easy at this point because this is exactly what you want.

you take your time climbing on top and rub your pussy along his length, grinding and rolling your hips teasingly. his frustration gets the best of him when he grabs your hips to hold you steady.

“y/n,” he warns, voice low and husky. you like him like this — too consumed with lust to realize just how much danger he’s in.

“i’m sorry, baby,” you say almost a little too convincingly, lifting up before sinking down slowly, his cock filling you up in the best sort of way. he’s in heaven, clearly; the way your cunt keeps sucking him back in, your arousal dripping onto his skin — your pussy is the gift that keeps on giving, he tells you offhandedly. you laugh and laugh and laugh, determined to snatch his soul out of his body every time you impale yourself on his cock.

his nails sink into your skin when he holds onto your hips, lifting his upwards to thrust inside of you deeply.

“you know, suguru,” your voice is breathy and hypnotizing, his eyes are glazed over and unfocused; you place your hands on his headboard, under the guise of holding on so he can fuck you properly, but really you’re reaching behind to grab the knife you’ve taped to the back of it. “you’re a shitty person.” there’s confusion etched onto his pretty face, and you chuckle darkly  as you buck your hips against his and brandish the knife in front of him.

he'd noticed that it went missing from his set days ago, but figured he’d misplaced it.

“where did you get that?” he grunts when you clench your pussy around him, still riding him as if this is a common occurrence for both of you.

you continue talking as if he didn’t ask a valid question and gently tap his cheek with the flat part of the blade. “you broke my heart, turned my love into ash,” you ride him harder, your ass bouncing on his hips, and he’s much more aroused than he should be. which is alarming because he isn’t stopping you at all. “and you went about your life like i never mattered.” that part still hurt, and you don’t think as you hold the knife to his throat, the blade sharp enough that it knicks his skin when you lean forward.

he knows he should tell you to stop, but for some reason, it’s as if he’s paralyzed by your confession. he deserves it, he knows that, but you refuse to have any sort of sympathy for him. a bit of blood drips down his neck and you stab the blade onto his pillow, nearly missing his face. he actually fucking flinches and it makes you laugh again.

“you’re so fucking stupid,” you almost pity him. almost.

geto’s life literally flashes before his eyes. he’s never seen you this ruthless; the soft, demure woman he knew before is gone — in her place, is someone cold and demanding, someone who won’t hesitate to maim him if he toes the line.

his skin blanches and he swallows hard, words lodged deep in his throat. he doesn’t know what to say to you. “i—”

you run your tongue along his jaw, and grin triumphantly when he shivers uneasily. “you don’t get it, do you? you’re mine forever.” he wants to ask what you mean by that, but you don’t give him the chance. “i hate you so much, that i want to watch the life drain from your eyes.”

it’s morbid and unreal, but it feels right. “that’s also a form of love, right?” you’re not making any sense, and you don’t care; you’ve deviated from your plan — you intended to drag things out, but once he started fucking you and acting like he was running the show all over again, you snapped. “you’re mine forever, understand?”

he had every opportunity to grab the knife, to shake you off of him, but you keep moving your hips, keep moaning for him, and keep kissing him like you want to breathe in his essence. he’s trapped and probably will never find his way out; he realizes now, that your return wasn’t a coincidence. it was planned. it’s fear that keeps him on that bad, that lets you keep fucking him until you’re satisfied, and when he finally cums, you smile wickedly and pick the knife up again.

“there’s no one who will love you the way i do, baby.”

#⋆˙⟡♡ htbahb collab #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk smut #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x y/n #geto suguru smut #geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto smut #‘i can change him’ 🥴 #no tf i can't he ain't shit!!! #i love him anyway it's complicated #yandere reader #fic request #geto x black reader #jjk x black reader

[dyns33]

Down the Pit - Part 2

I think I'll make like 5 or 6 part for this story. While writing other Bane's stories, because I love the man.

Tag : @jaxitaxibolehlaf (I remembered, I hope you'll like it)

It had been almost five years since Y/N had left the Pit.

The world had continued to turn, she had found a new job, a bigger apartment, but nothing made sense anymore.

Out of curiosity, Y/N had done some research on Ra's al ghul, but it had yielded nothing. No information either on the infernal prison of India, on Talia or Bane.

She held out hope that just typing these names into Google or whispering them in the street would one day bring them up, since the ninja leader had found her that way the first time.

It was also possible, even certain, that he had never lost sight of her since. Y/N didn’t feel like she was being monitored, but they were probably very good at it. It wouldn't make any difference if she indicated that she wanted them to show themselves, they would stay hidden.

Maybe if they made a lot of noise, they would have moved. By going to an independent journalist to tell them her whole story, with the certainty that he would publish even if she had no proof to offer.

But they would find a way to make it all disappear. They would kill the journalist, and maybe they would kill her too.

So Y/N waited, without really waiting, remaining alone with her memories and her nightmares.

However, she didn't think about all that at all when someone knocked on her door and she went to open it without looking at who it was.

The girl was brunette, her hair tied in a messy ponytail. Her large almost black eyes stared at her while her face remained impassive. The clothes she wore were slightly too big, as if she didn't know how to dress or had grabbed what she could. She couldn't have been more than thirteen or fourteen.

It's been almost five years. But it only took a moment, a brief moment, for Y/N to forget how to breathe, taking the girl into her arms.

“Talia !” she cried, hugging her tightly. "Talia, I'm so happy to see you. I missed you so much !"

"… I missed you too." the little girl whispered, shyly returning her embrace.

Obviously, her father didn't hold her often. The master of the League of Shadows, as Talia told her it was called, preferred to train her so that she would be ready to take his place when the time came.

It wasn't really the life Y/N would have wanted for the little girl she had practically raised in the Pit. It had nothing to do with the bedtime stories she told her.

While eating chocolate for the first time, Talia told her about what she was learning from her instructor, a man named Barsad. The girl didn't like him too much, because he was too strict and he had vulture eyes according to her.

In addition to basic lessons like writing, math, and geography, Talia learned to fight, kill, manipulate weak minds, lead troops of soldiers, and many other things a child of her age shouldn't have to learn.

Locked in a temple in the Himalayas, she had only seen the things Y/N had told her about in pictures. Except the snow. There was a lot of snow, an intense cold, absolutely not alleviated by the people around her.

That was why Talia had decided to look for Y/N as soon as she had the chance. Her father had told her that she had abandoned her, leaving her in his care while begging to be sent home, and with the promise that she would never hear from the child again.

"I believed him… I was young and stupid. I hated you for a long time, and then I realized that he must have been lying, because you would never have done that ! You wouldn't have left me. When Barsad told me I was going on my first overseas mission, I knew it was time."

Thanks to everything he had taught her, it was easy to escape the surveillance of Barsad and his men. After finding a disguise, Talia had managed to get to Gotham without attracting attention, until she found Y/N's apartment.

It might have been difficult, but with her training, stalking someone was perfectly natural.

In addition to the need to see Y/N again, Talia also wanted to see the world she had dreamed of so much when she was in the Pit.

The plane had scared her a little, she wasn't sure she liked the city with all the noises, the smells, the lights, but seeing so many people was fascinating for her.

The feeling of new freedom was exhilarating. She could go wherever she wanted, whenever she wanted, talk to whoever she wanted, eat whatever she wanted… And Talia wanted it all.

"I want to watch TV ! I want to dance ! I want to go to the beach !" the little princess of shadows almost ordered, jumping around in circles in the living room. “Now, now, now !”

"Calm down, Talia. You should probably call your father, he'll be worried."

"I don't care ! He lied to me. I want to try pizza."

"And… What about Bane ? Have you heard from Bane ?" Y/N asked with a bit of fear.

Talia stopped jumping, staring at her with a serious look. For a moment, Y/N trembled, thinking that she was going to tell her that he was dead, or that Ra's al ghul had refused to go get him.

"Bane… is fine. I'll call him."

There were many things her father had denied her, but going to save the man who had kept her safe since birth didn't seem possible.

Since he was strong and intelligent, as well as being completely devoted to Talia, it was decided that he could be useful, and he was allowed to join the League of Shadows. He quickly became an important member, earning the title of lieutenant.

Talia didn't see him often, at least not as often as she would have liked. As if he didn't want them to be together, her father sent Bane on missions outside the temple very regularly, and when he didn't have to report, he trained the new recruits.

Obedient, because he owed him his life and respect, the giant still found time to come and see Talia training. He asked Barsad, whom he treated like a brother, to give him news and watch over her in his absence.

Shyly, the girl admitted that he hadn't spoken about Y/N once since he was taken out of the Pit. No questions, no worries. Perhaps he also believed that she had abandoned them, or perhaps he had understood that their leader did not want her to be part of their lives.

The call was quick, calm. Talia gave the address where she was, firmly requesting that Bane and no one else come pick her up. No doubt she wanted to offer them a moment alone, all three of them, like before.

The tension was almost palpable when three knocks were given on the door. As Y/N took a deep breath, she was held back by the girl, who stared at her with great seriousness, but also what looked like fear.

“Promise me you’ll always love him.”

"… What ?"

"You love Bane. Nothing has changed."

"Of course. Why are you so worried ? Do you think… Do you think he doesn't want to be here ?"

"He'll be the happiest of all. Promise me."

Y/N promised her. She understood better the reasons for this insistence when she opened the door.

Taller than she remembered, Bane stood still until she invited him inside. Like his pupil, his eyes showed nothing, the only part of his face visible between a hat and a huge scarf.

It wasn't exactly cold outside, but since he was coming from a snowy mountain, Y/N figured he didn't have time to check the temperature of Gotham.

As he greeted Talia, he seemed to hesitate. It was not polite to keep his face hidden like that. With a gesture of her head, the young girl gave him a silent order. Then the presence of the scarf was clear.

The mask was strange. Impossible to say if it was so complicated and imposing for technical reasons, or also in order to scare.

For a moment, Y/N was afraid. But not because of Bane. More for him, wondering why he had that horrible mask, what had happened to him, but not knowing if she had the right to ask such a thing.

When he first spoke, his voice was weird, distorted. The pronunciation was also not normal. Sparing her any torture, between asking and staying in the dark.

"The other prisoners didn't accept that I help you escape. With everyone against me, I didn't have the slightest chance. But the doctor finished the job, trying to treat me."

“You… Are you in pain ?”

"No."

She wanted to know more, but Y/N decided now wasn’t the time. She would see later if he could remove it or if it might kill him. It didn't matter anyway, as she had promised Talia.

Instead, she held him in her arms, as she had held the child, letting her tears fall. This seemed to scare the giant, but he stood still, letting her do so.

"I missed you both so much. I'm so happy you're here."

"… Habibi." he whispered, his head leaning slightly to rest against hers.

The separaton was not easy.

Talia did not want to leave, while fully understanding that her father would not accept her staying. There would be consequences. Bane knew it too, and he was more adult, even if Y/N sometimes felt his hand brushing against hers, hesitant to take it.

No doubt he wouldn't have had the will to let go of her if he had given in.

Before agreeing to return to the temple, the young girl called her father, to present an absolutely insincere apology, promising to focus on her training, if in exchange she had the right to stay in contact with Y/N.

Ra's agreed, reluctantly. He knew nothing could stop his child anyway.

"We'll be back soon. I'll call you every day."

"You promise ?"

"Yes !" Talia said solemnly with bright eyes.

"The master agreed for you to come back. He didn't say anything about me."

"You are my protector. You will have to come with me, that's logical."

Translation, her father would have no choice. He had managed to separate them once, he wouldn't have that chance again. And since he was clever, he saw that the compromise was fair.

His daughter would continue to follow her destiny, as the future leader of the League of Shadows, not sticking to Bane when she was with her followers, but she would have the small freedom to see him and be with Y/N when she went in Gotham, from time to time.

All that remained was to define this time.

But since Y/N had waited five years, she was willing to wait a few more months, knowing now that they were fine, and that she could call them if she missed them too much.

#batman the dark knight #the dark knight rises #bane #bane x reader #bane imagine #bane fanfiction

[neonscandal]

Hello, I'm new to the jujutsu fandom, I've already watched season 1 of the movie and I'm in season 2 of jujutsu, I also follow the jujutsu manga, I liked your tumblr and started following you, I like your analyzes and you make me understand more jujutsu, thank you. I have a question, don't you think Sukuna is a boring villain, sorry, but he's too annoying, even Mahito is more interesting than him and it's impressive that Mahito gave more weight to the work than Sukuna, Sukuna killed Gojo and his death It had no significance in the work, it's something terrible, I think the author got lost.

Anon(s), please still try to be mindful of spoilerssss, even if, mid sentence, you just throw one up so other readers know. I'd appreciate it since, even though I'm not a spoiler free blog, I at least tag. I am no stranger to falling behind and trying to avoid leaks and spoilers, myself and my IRL friends are anime onlys to some of the things I obsess about. All that to say: I'm glad you're here (both in the fandom and in my inbox)! Bear in mind, these are very much just the impassioned rants of a silly little person on the internet so who knows.

One thing that I've realized about JJK villains, especially in most recent chapters, is they're never quite who we assume at face value. In this battle between humans and the negative human emotions that spawn curses... each of the villains has a really striking human quality to them whether we understand it or not. In fact, it makes their whole mission of toppling the current paradigm that much more interesting when you consider their origin. I think it was Jogo who said curses were more human than humans which... when you look at the root cause of Geto's defection... he might be onto something.

To that end, Mahito wasn't really lying when he told Yuji that they were one in the same. Humans and curses are two sides of the same coin.

⚠️ Spoiler warning for chapter 248 of JJK.

If you haven't read the light novels, you'd be interested to find that in a chapter I don't overanalyze, there's a story focused around Mahito. It appears in Jujutsu Kaisen Summer of Ashes, Autumn of Dust.

In the chapter, our typical chaos gremlin who is quick to torture first and question never stumbles upon a vagrant. He finds, in the company of a man who has not and wants not, that he exists harmoniously and curiously. In his soul, he sees an unflappable peace that is not evident in other humans and behaves accordingly around him. Day after day, he causes no harm. They even converse, reasonably and academically to an extent. Uh - Mahito is like an avid reader, by the way. While you can argue this is outside of the realm of what's canon, think of Jogo's affinity to mourn Hanami. Hoping to meet Dagon in the wasteland of souls beyond. Very human hopes which are even echoed by Mahito in canon when Haruta the curse user was sneakily going to kill Hanami. Mahito stopped him with intention because even curses have camaraderie which the humans they consort with apparently lack.

Kenjaku is another villain where, even in his twisted delights and subsequent plans for the future, safely delivers Sasaki outside of the realm of the Culling Games and thanks her for befriending his son... What? This appreciation is so humble and endearing but, of course it is, it is that of a mother. Something he decisively lacks with Choso and the cursed womb paintings but still. It goes against the grain of the rest of his character, you know?

Toji, the man who can't be bothered to remember the name of the kid he sold back to the hell hole he grew up in and yet thinks of him as he breathes his last breaths. When his body was reanimated in Shibuya and was hardwired to find and fight the strongest... that recognition on his face when he realized who he was fighting? The animation did a beautiful job of clearing the black of his eyes, softening his gaze toward Megumi. Knowing that it was Megumi Fushiguro and not Zenin he took himself out, happily. Doesn't really ring true of how a lot of fans interpret him as a character.

Now, we have Sukuna. I agree, he seems to be somewhat flat in characterization so far but.. so was everyone else until we got the effective cowlick that indicated their complexity. Now, 248 chapters in, we're seeing the chip in his facade.

Gojo is no stranger to dying though he is extremely unused to comparison. He's the Strongest Sorcerer of the Modern Era, after all. But I wonder if it makes sense to call Sukuna his foil. Imagine Gojo's unchecked ego had he never met Geto. I imagine a life of isolation carrying the burden of one's own grace and strength would absolutely turn out similar to Sukuna's wherein there is no need for purpose beyond one's own whims.

Subsequently, Gojo dying at Sukuna's hands and earning his respect was the first real human connection we see Sukuna receive positively (he gave Jogo a pretty sweet send off, too). It was done with intention, even Gojo hoped to communicate with his tempered body the fact that he too knew that isolation. In universe, it seems to be a form of love (search for "Of Love and Strength" on this post), this understanding. This lapse in Sukuna's indifference is furthered in facing off against fan favorite lawyer Hiromi Higurama.

Following Gojo's demise, Gege has been comparing a lot of characters to the vacuum of power left in his wake. Yuta, I get, but Higurama is an absolute wild card. However, Sukuna sees something in him that he not only respects in this comparison to Gojo... but also stymies him. Especially as he meaningfully comes to terms with his dismissal and abhorrence of Yuji.

What we're seeing is the blossom of his character playing out amidst an all or nothing fight. Stay strapped in, anon!

#neon asks #anon asks #manga with me #manga with me jjk #ryomen sukuna #jjk #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jjk meta #jjk character analysis #jjk theory #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #mahito #jjk mahito #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #kenjaku #jjk kenjaku #anime #manga #jjk sukuna #jjk villains #higurama hiromi #hiromi higurama

[karolamurdock]

SpiderWoman 2099 Pt.4

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!Reader

Sinopsis: The year is 2106. By day, you work as the head of the Genetic Engineering and Biotechnology division at Alchemax. By night, you are the one and only Spider-Woman, fighting tirelessly to protect New York from the tyrannical clutches of crime and delinquency. Your days are spent in an ordinary, organized routine: it's just you, the only barrier between your city and oblivion, dealing with the violence and pain that comes with being a superhero.

Everything is just normal. Then your dead husband appears in front of you, talking about alternate universes, spider societies and canonical disasters, and you discover that all your sorrows, losses and failures were possibly always meant to happen.

What the fuck.

Notes: No excuses. Let this chapter, full of Miguel, make up for the long time I was gone. I will keep the reader's background rather ambiguous, but it is implied that they also speaks Spanish.

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know.

Warnings: Intrusive thoughts, mild violence, subtle references to depression. As always, english is not my first lenguague.

Word count: 2.6K

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4

Impassive white eyes stared back at you with disdain. You looked with abject curiosity at the spidery pattern on his red suit, the white glasses and the sharp claws, and you couldn't help but wonder...

Who makes a spider suit for a cat? 

Undaunted, the animal yawned loudly and stretched lazily over the railing before leaping onto the pristine marble floor, completely silent and oblivious to your anomalous presence. He waved his orange tail and stretched the red patterns that hugged his hind legs.

You did not have the opportunity to entertain yourself with her pretty pink pads. A gloved hand brushed your shoulder, and you turned your masked face to observe your guide's own grim expression.    

"Come with me." Miguel said. "I'll show you around before introducing you to the rest of Society."

Silently, you nodded. The man walked two steps ahead of you. His broad, imposing figure was like a bronze spur, parting the sea of arachnid entities that watched you with open curiosity. 

As he made his way through the crowd, you quietly followed in his footsteps. Grateful for the foresight to keep your mask in place, you analyzed the discordant structure of the building that surrounded you. You noticed the long corridors and open configuration: designed to facilitate mobility for your kind. 

Miguel moved forward, and you watched his impassive figure with stern eyes. You wondered if he too had become Orpheus in his willingness to claim you back, and now feared to look back and lose his Eurydice. Perhaps the anguish in his gaze would be enough to draw you into the shadows and lose you forever. Would he then be blessed to work and move the gods with craftsmanship born of his terrible grief?

Was it so for you? You could not claim that your deeds after his death were unselfish and sincere: you did not seek to soften the wind with your tender weeping, nor to drown the rushing waters with the song of your heroic prowess. The resolution of your vengeance was your reward: an analgesic balm to numb the turmoil of your burning soul. 

Together, you entered the lift... You watched the changing landscape. On the glass, you saw Miguel's ponderous silhouette, stern and rigid. The pattern of his suit resembled your own. But your own profile was outlined with sharper lines, and your web shooters were not exposed, but hidden in the webbing patterns on your wrists.

The door opened, and you followed him through large, well-lit rooms, through huge recreation rooms, and through small, immaculate, familiar laboratories. You carefully analyzed the information he gave you along the way: where to find the scientists in charge of certain labs, the optimum hours for accessing the training rooms, the menu in the main cafeteria (a burger with Miguel's mask on it? Santo Dios...). Finally, he took you to his own office. On one of the top floors, of course. Just like your universe. 

When the lift stopped in his office, your mask retracted. Miguel did a quick double take, pursed his lips and looked up; you followed his gaze to see a red light flashing rapidly on one of the screens above the platform. 

You heard Miguel's grunt as Lyla appeared over his shoulder, giving you a quick wink before turning to face the man:

"An anomaly is causing trouble on Earth-1048. Homeworld Spider-Man is already on the scene, but he's limited to minimizing the destruction around him."

"Copy that." Miguel said. He ran a hand over his face, holding the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut, and the gesture seemed so familiar that you almost let out the breath you were holding between your lips. "I have to deal with this. I'll talk to Jessica, she can show you the room you can use as your own."

"I can go with you." You finally spoke.

Miguel looked at you in surprise. But he quickly frowned and replied:

"No, it's too soon. I'll be able to show you how we deal with the anomalies once you're settled in and we know more about your universe."

Your universe. Like a wave crashing against rock, you felt heat coursing through your veins and burning in the pit of your stomach. You felt that in your rage, the marks on your suit might be burned into your skin forever. 

You blinked. Ignoring the fire in your chest, you responded:

"I could settle in better if I knew what I was dealing with." 

Miguel studied you. His red eyes scanned your face: your steel eyes, your unbending brows, your closed lips, and he said no more. Sharing a last look with Lyla, he nodded with finality, and she took it upon herself to open the portal for the two of you. 

"Let 's go, then."

🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷

It was a cold morning in Harlem. The white sky barely hinted at the day's pale rays, and the streets were shrouded in a thick, damp gray haze. As you and Miguel landed on a lamppost overlooking the East River and the small buildings lining the street, an ominous silence settled over the scene at your feet. 

You sat back on your heels, scanning the nondescript landscape, and Miguel followed, his back stiff and his hands clenched into fists as he exhaled:

"The signal seems to be coming from this warehouse." He gestured with his chin, and you peered intently at the gray silhouette of a building surrounded by tall grills and long containers. A cloud of gray smoke rose through the haze, and with a mighty leap you launched yourself in its direction, hearing Miguel's nets snap past you.

Soon you were perched on the railing of a neighboring building, with a clear view of the ruined courtyard. Sparks rained down from the ruined batteries; small fires burned and cracks in the concrete marred the once peaceful scene.

Rubble crunched beneath your feet as you landed in the courtyard. In the distance, you heard a muffled, heavy thud. You glanced cautiously at a large metal curtain to your right as a deafening screech pierced the jealous silence. Beside you, Miguel brought his knees to his chest and the two of you jumped away just as the door shot in your direction. 

A red figure flew through the air. With a start, you threw your nets around the man's torso, jumping just in time to catch him before his body slammed into a large metal container. 

"Nice catch." Gasped the Spider-Man in your arms. "Rhino's got an arm."

"Does he throw you often?" 

"Well, yeah." The young man cleared his throat, pulling himself to his feet with a little help. "But I don't usually get caught by..." He tilted his head to the side, curious.

"Spider-Woman." You conceded. 

Her white glasses widened comically as he whistled under his breath: 

"Awesome!"

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Miguel's orange nets wrapped around Rhino's massive arm, and you spun on your heels as the beast slammed into the tower Miguel was standing on.

"He's really mad!" Spider-Man exhaled as he rushed to your side. "I don't understand, according to my intel, Aleksei's transfer still hasn't been coordinated. He is still in the custody of the police."

"He's not Aleksei Sytsevich!" Miguel shouted. He had dodged a large stone and landed next to you. "His name is Alexander O'Hirn. He is the Rhino of dimension 26496." 

"Oh!" Spider-Man exclaimed. "I knew you weren't my Rhino! We've always had this connection, you know?" 

The man lunged at you, furious. You caught a glimpse of a crane with a container suspended in the air, and you pulled the arm of the crane just as the man was passing underneath the box. The container landed on top of his armour with a clatter that made your ears ring. 

"Watch out!" 

A strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you out of the way of a huge chunk of concrete.

"Not one, but three Spider-Creeps!" he growled.

"Hey, that's not very nice of you." Spider-Man landed a kick to the chest, but Rhino didn't move. He grabbed the hero's legs and slammed him into the wreckage of the crane. Taking advantage of the distraction, Miguel jumped up and punched him in the face, the only exposed part of his body.

Rhino let go of Spider-Man and took a step back. With a leap, you stood on a low beam and surveyed your surroundings. As the man jerked and rammed into Miguel, you activated your drones; small winged spiders that flew over the villain's head, firing electric shocks that immobilised him with a scream.

"His face!" you exclaimed, and Miguel leapt to your side to dodge the rocks Rhino dropped as he stomped on the concrete. 

Spider-Man, snapping out of his daze, noticed the same thing you did: the small visible part of his face was hyperemic and sweaty. "His suit must be restricting his ventilation!"

So this would be a battle of endurance. Good, you thought to yourself. You've been doing this for years. 

With a nod, Miguel and Spider-Man squared up firmly and jumped into the fray.

🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷

As the portal to your dimension closed behind you, silence fell. Michael's gaze was on the horizon, and yours was on him. It was not his red eyes that you caressed with your thoughts, but you could taste the sweetness of his cheek beneath your lips. His hair was shorter, but his curly eyelashes were thicker than yours: a feature that made you playfully envious in the past.

In the warm, brief light of the streetlamps, his face was just as beautiful. His bronze skin was a ghostly contrast to the impassivity of the bustling nightlife, a backdrop to his stern profile. 

He looked at you too. And his pupils wandered over the arch of your lips, your eyebrows and cheekbones, the slope of your neck and your bare ears. And you thought he was reflecting the same doubt that plagued you: because he is Miguel, but not your Miguel. And you were never his wife, but your smile is the same, and he only replaced your name with silence, and the space he occupied with you was filled with melancholy.

"You did a good job." Miguel said after a prolonged silence. 

"Thank you." You replied with a small smile. "You weren't so bad yourself."

"Hm." He snorted. With a hand on his hip, he arched an eyebrow and looked you up and down, half mocking, half stern. "Now you know what we're up against. You can run away now. We won't blame you. I certainly wouldn't."

You moistened your lips and took a slow breath. So close, your arm inches from his shoulder, you felt his warmth, the energy of his holographic suit, his solid build and musky scent. 

"You wouldn't reach me." You finally replied, and your heart skipped a beat as a grin revealed his sharp fangs. 

"I already did."

"I was distracted."

"Sure." 

He straightened up, and you took advantage of the brief appraisal that he was giving to the red horizon to revel in his presence... just one more time. 

In your solitude, his face is your guest. With his presence, an outdated image shatters beneath your feet. This new precision is yours. And even if he were to leave you that night, his voice muffled by the wind, Miguel would not leave you. His eyes would remain in the burning sunset and his posture in the steadiness of the stars. 

When he looked back at you, your expression was already composed. Silently, you tilted your chin in the direction of the busy streets, and when he raised a questioning eyebrow, you spread your arms wide and threw yourself into the void. 

Your mask returned to your face and your wings spread from your arms. Behind you you heard a faint scream and a short curse in Spanish. You felt, before you saw, his broad, imposing figure leaping from the edge of the building, and you used the air currents to move across the city with ease.

The buildings blurred at the edge of your vision. Though your mask filtered out the piercing whistle of the air, you still felt the pressure in your ears; and you didn't look at him, but felt his presence, imagining him dodging antennas, aerial surveillance and flocks of birds skimming skilfully across the crowded sky. 

You locked arms and landed in a somersault, legs cramped and right hand braced against one of the buildings, halfway across a complex of tall glass towers.

"Look." 

Below you, the city lit up like fireflies in the night. Thirteen hundred feet away, the cars and streetlights looked like tiny fiery wisps traversing the busy, colorful streets. And in the distance, the black silhouette of Alchemax stood out against the red horizon.

"I recognise this place." Miguel said, leaning over to stare in awe at a small purple-roofed shop on the side of the road. "It used to be a very popular artisan bakery in my universe." 

"It's quite popular here too."

"I still have fond memories of their vanilla cake. I would get it for all... my events." He finished lowly.

"I used to buy the orange bread," you hummed understandingly, shaking your head disappointedly. "And now I can't eat citrus."

He looked at you in silence... and then laughed, shaking his head in astonishment, "Neither can I."

In the privacy of your mask, you smiled back. And with the first dark brushstroke on the horizon came your resolution. 

"I can help you." You began, looking away from the night to stare at his cloaked profile. "But I will not be part of the Society."

He bowed his head, listening.

"I have work to do here." Your work at Alchemax; the company you were leading was just beginning to take a course that you could be proud of. Being Spider-Woman; a full-time job you couldn't give up: you were already the symbol of your city. An embodiment of hope, perseverance and goodness. "But... I understand that your work with the multiverse is an even more arduous and complex task, and I offer you my services as an advisor. If you ever need help... you know where to find me."

A hero must be impartial. And to you... his mere presence would be a constant challenge, an exercise in moral skill tested in the crucible of your everyday life. How could you not choose him? The strange man with your husband's voice. The friend whom you love the most, the one who lives in the moments of your delirium. 

Because, after him, living seems distant. You have no anger left... only pain. And although your better judgment led you not to get involved with the Society, you could not find the strength within yourself to ignore him. Even though this Miguel is not yours, letting him go is almost like losing him again.

His mask pulled back and you watched him run a hand through his hair, tousling his auburn locks as he nodded slowly. 

"I understand." 

He stood to his feet. He held out a hand to you, and you followed as he took one last, searching look over your city.

He opened his mouth, then closed it. He seemed to hesitate for a moment. He gave you a long look, and in the end he just said:

"Then I'm counting on you." 

You remained standing, staring at his silhouette, even as the portal swallowed his dark figure.

"What have I just gotten myself into?" you whispered into the empty air.

@alicefallsintotherabbithole @digipaw2-0 @sunshowernaps @qiaipia @luciiferian @saltyllamakidwombat @amnmich @autismsupermusicalassassin @miggyyyyohara @oscarissac2099 @songbirdlully

#marvel #miguel o'hara #atvs #miguel o'hara x oc #miguel o'hara x reader #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #oscar isaac #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #spiderman atsv #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #itsv #spiderman itsv

[puffbts]

WIP Wednesday

On Tuesday, Severus’ third day with Harry, he was surprised by a knock on his door just before lunch.

“Minerva? Poppy?”

“Hello, Severus,” McGonagall greeted, “Poppy told me that you had come to be in possession of Harry Potter.”

She was one of the few people he’d never quite managed to read, and right now, Severus didn’t know what to make of her impassive face. He glanced at Poppy, who smiled at him encouragingly.

“If you’d just come inside,” Severus said, moving aside to let both women inside his quarters.

Harry looked up, reaching out for Severus. The man took him in his arms, lifting him up onto his hip. “This is Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall. Say hello, Harry.”

“Wawa,” Harry said, clutching Severus’ robes.

Minerva’s face softened at the sight of the child.

“He’s truly alive,” she whispered. “And healthy.”

“I told you this much,” Poppy intervened.

Minerva glanced at her before turning to Severus once more.

“May I hold him?”

Severus shot a glance at Harry, who was looking up at him. The child smiled and babbled, forcing a grin out of the corners of Severus’ mouth. He handed him over to McGonagall, and Harry went without a fuss.

***

Introducing Minerva McGonagall to my story! This is from chapter 2, which I will be posting in a week. I thought every week I'm not updating would be perfect for sharing an exerpt with WIP Wednesday.

#writing #my writing #hp #harry potter #severus snape #poppy pomfrey #minerva mcgonagall #severitus #wip #wip wednesday

[imagineanime2022]

Demon Partner *Part 2*

Sebastian Michaelis X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 980

This technically wasn’t a request but there was a comment on the first part from @lonelystarsstuff that got me thinking thus this was born.

*Part 1*

You felt the pain arc down your neck through your chest to settle where your heart was and your eyes widened as you felt the fracture in the bond that you shared with Sebastian, you took a deep breath as the pain rose to almost unbearable before seeming the peter out. “I-!” Grelle braged her way into your shop, she seemed to appear everyday with a new plan to steal your husband but the more time she spent around you the more she liked you, that was why seeing you doubled over hands pressed against the counter made her worried. “Hey what’s going on!?” “I’ll kill him!” You growled out. “W-what?” Grelle asked as he watched you head twisted to the side, noticing the mark on your neck seemed aggravated almost like someone and damaged the skin around it. “Has something happened with Bassy?” “Cheating crow!” You cursed as you threw the ring he had gotten you across the shop. “I sense I’ve walked into something.” Grelle said, stepping backwards towards the door. “I’ll kill him, then you can take whatever you want from him.” You said flipping the sign with your magic to say that the shop was closed before making your way into the back where you had stashed your weapon, a scythe you had stolen from a previous reaper. “That’s a death scythe!” Grelle’s eyes widened as she stepped in front of you. “That will kill him.” “Uh huh.” You grunted. “Maybe you should think about this.” She suggested hands moving frantically. “How long would you suggest that I think about this?” You asked leaning your weight on the weapon as you looked at her. “Look, just see if he comes to talk to you first…” She said and you looked at her and dropped the scythe letting it hit the floor with an aggressive slam as you walked back towards the front of the shop because you weren’t sure that you were ready to see him anyway.

It took 2 days for Sebastian to show his face in your small shop, you were sitting at the counter and it served you well that there was no one in there at the time, you took one of the knives that you were supposed to be selling and throwing it at his face, he caught it between his fingers, the impassive look on his face was giving rise to the anger that had sat dormant “That was rather violent.” He finally said as he put the knife down on the closest surface before beginning his slow approach to you. “I’ll tell you what was violent, the sudden and unbearable pain that preceded the knowledge that you cheated.” You glared at him and he grimaced almost as if he was sorry for what he put you through, his eyes wandered to what looked like red raw skin around the bond mark on your neck and the missing ring. “I didn’t want to do it.” He said. “You didn’t have to do it. You're a demon.” You reminded him as he stepped closer still. “I needed information, she wasn’t even my type.” He smirked as he looked down at you and you growled. “Your type?” You answered moving back and away from him as he caught your arm. “Mhm she wasn’t my type, she was a meek little nun not a fiery little demoness.” He muttered pulling you so that you were chest to chest with him. “A nun?” You asked. “She only made me long for you.” He promised as he lifted you to sit on the counter in front of him pulling his glove off with his teeth to press his marked hand to the burning skin on your neck and it was like someone had pressed ice to the burning skin, you closed your eyes in relief. “I am sorry that you suffered this pain.” “Then don’t break a binding vow.” Your eyes opened fuschia eyes to match his glowing brightly as he nosed over the mark on your neck before pressing soft kisses there, it was in the moment that your anger finally calmed because he had come back to you, given your age you had walked away from each other many times but this was the first and hopefully last time that something like this would happen, you weren’t willing to give him up for one mistake in your thousands of years together but you would make him for forgiveness he didn’t know he already had. “It won’t happen again.” He said as he nipped at the skin on your neck before dropping to his knee in front of you and pressing his ungloved hand to his chest “do you accept my apology and request to start again?” You gently push your hand through his hair before yanking it back so that he was looking at you. “Next time I’ll kill you… That’s a promise.” You warned him and he smirked pushing up and pressing a fierce kiss to your lips. “I’d let you.” He breathed out, reconnecting your lips and pulling your body flush against him. “I have some making up to do.” “What of your master?” You asked. “He can do without me for a little while.” Sebastian said lowly. “A little while?” You asked. “Behave yourself.” Sebastian nipped at your ear. “We both know that’s not what you want.” You said your lips next to his ear, he growled his eyes glowing pink as they connected with yours. “Don’t test me darling.” He warned, you flipped the sign to ‘closed’ on the door as he raised an eyebrow. “If you apologize correctly, I shouldn’t be able to open this shop for the rest of the day.” You smirked and he lifted you with no effort at all. “As you wish my lady.” He said carrying you to the back of the shop.

Request Here!!

#black butler oneshot #black butler imagine #black butler #sebastian michaelis oneshot #sebastian michaelis imagine #sebastian michaelis #imagine #oneshot #one shot #reader insert #x reader

[hoedamn-eron]

baby, please - part 2

You've had an awful lot of wine this week, and your date with Santiago is going well. Very, very well.

Warnings: Alcohol drinking. Bad descriptions of people, I'm sorry. Terrible descriptions of flirting. Again, like one or two swear words. The ending was a little cheesy but I had to end it somehow! Proofread but lazily done. Word count: 3,704 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

Part 1 ● Series Masterlist ● Part 3

You greeted your friends at your door with big smiles and huge hugs, ones where you were squeezing each other to death as you prattle on about how long it’s been since you last saw each other and how tonight had been a long time coming.

Obviously, you were ready on time for them after leaving work late. Your hair may still be a little damp after your shower, but you were all wearing your fancy pyjamas anyway, so it didn’t really matter. You had set out an Instagram worthy platter of fruits, cheeses, crackers, and small desserts, which you knew would be devoured before the night ends. And if not, you could use them for your lunches for the week.

You usher your friends into your apartment, practically shoving filled wine glasses in their hands as they went and sat down in your armchair by your window. It had belonged to your grandmother, once upon a time, and you’d inherited it after her death. She wasn’t the nicest person around, and you were surprised she decided to give you anything. It was a comfortable armchair, and only needed a little bit of TLC and revamping for it to make the move to Florida with you.

“How are you and Georgia doing?” you asked Elizabeth. “Have you found a wedding venue yet?”

Elizabeth, your first friend you’d made in Florida, waved her ebony hand at you as she took a big gulp of her red wine. Preferably going by Beth, you both met at your first day at the company. She exuded confidence that commanded attention wherever she went. You had taken over Elizabeth’s job when she left a year after you arrived, to move into interior design. She had her own very successful company, where she had a yearlong waitlist for clients asking to redesign their homes. She had been with Georgia for as long as you could remember, and Beth wasted no time in planning their wedding as soon as Georgia proposed. “Don’t get me started. I personally think we should do destination wedding, because how often can you go and get married in Greece? But she wants a simple wedding, just close friends and family. She wants to save money for the IVF, you know? So…we’re at a little bit of an impasse.”

“Do what I did and flip a coin. Andy won that one.” Courtney smirked. A redhead, gym nut, and overachiever, Courtney was your most down to earth friend who had once been a client for the company. She was the one you went to for sound advice, since she had no problem telling you her true opinion, even if it wasn’t what you wanted to hear. Recently married to Andrew, she’d made a few good-natured jokes at her wedding about your single life before you and one of the groomsmen hit it off and spent the night together. You and Courtney had ribbed at each other the day after about it.

Beth rolled her dark brown eyes. “You white people and your coin flips. I’ll treat it like my business. Focus on the pros and cons and see what flows well with our vision.”

“You could always go to Greece for the honeymoon,” Gabrielle pointed out. She was every family man’s wet dream; blonde, blue eyed, and the epitome of a ‘mom’. She married young, deciding that after working for a few years then getting pregnant, being a mother was her dream job, and you were proud of her for it. She had a four-year-old son and an eighteen-month-old daughter, and with her husband, Matthew, they made a dream team; they were at every soccer game, every play date, every bake sale, and still managed to function and pull themselves together every day. You applauded her. You’d met her on a chance meeting at your first exhibition, when she was still working as an assistant at her old job. You had immediately clicked.

Beth hummed. “We could, but we were looking at France for a honeymoon. We thought we would go to Cannes in time for the film festival.”

“You going to jump right into trying for kids?” Courtney asked.

Beth nodded. “If our plans work out, our first round will be just before our honeymoon. Georgia’s probably looking at donor profiles right now.”

Your evening went on about more wedding plans, how Gabrielle’s kids were doing, Courtney’s future plans for kids, and how her new house was getting on. It was nice, seeing your friends again. Sure, you had occasional one on one time, and you all had your group chat, although that wasn’t as prolific as it used to be, you were still in communication with each other, but there was nothing like being with your best friends all together. They really did melt your stress away. You all were three bottles of wine down and the food board was lacking before the usual topic of your dating life came up.

“So,” Beth calls your name, smirking at you. “Anything new with you?”

You shrugged at her, topping up your glass of the white wine you’d been enjoying. “Nothing much. I’ve got a date on Saturday, with Emily’s neighbour, you know, my co-worker?”

“Ooh, cute, what’s he like?”

“His name is Santiago, he’s ex-army.”

“Sounds stiff.”

“Emily said he’s nice. And good looking.”

“Have you seen a picture of him?” Courtney asked.

You shake your head and Beth laughs. “How do you know if you’re going to like him?”

“I’ll just have to go out on the date and find out,” you say teasingly, taking a sip of your wine. “You never know, he might stick around.”

You ignore the slight pang in your chest as your friends laugh along with you.

Maybe it was because all you did was spend time at the office and all your days were blurring into one, but it was suddenly Saturday, and you had to make yourself get ready for your date with Santiago (or Santi, as he told you to call him). You had both kept up with a few texts here and there during the week, the conversation not actually going anywhere other than talking about the date. That was fine with you, but you would like to have some sort of idea of what kind of guy Santi was.

You’d pondered embarrassingly long and hard about what to wear on your date with Santi before deciding to just go out and find something new. So here you were, with Gabrielle and her daughter, Luna, who had nodded off quite some time ago, her mouth hanging open from her position in her stroller as her mother slowly rocked her back and forth as you browsed through the clothes.

“So are you looking forward to tonight?”

You gave a light shrug before nodding, looking through the rack of clothes opposite your blonde friend. “I guess. Yeah, sure. It’ll be nice to go somewhere that isn’t the office, you know?”

Gabrielle gave a hum as she nodded. “I get that. I don’t get out much for me anymore. What about this one?”

You look up from the assortment of shirts you were looking at to see Gabrielle holding up a forest green, thin strapped dress. It was cute, but it wasn’t for a casual date. You crinkle your nose and shake your head. Gabrielle nodded before hanging it back up and browsing again.

Your turn back to the shirts. “Can you get a babysitter for the kids?”

“Matthew doesn’t trust anyone to look after them, and he doesn’t want to burden our parents.” Gabrielle rolled her eyes. “I tell him all the time, taking a break every now and then isn’t going to traumatise the kids, but he just doesn’t listen.”

“Can he not watch the kids?”

“He likes doing things as a family. I love him, really, I do. He’s amazing and a great dad, but he’s so…so…”

“Clingy?”

“Yes! No. More like he’s severely ‘family orientated’.” She groaned, briefly closing her eyes before looking at you. “Not like that’s a bad thing – “

“I know what you mean, don’t worry about it.” You give her a reassuring smile. “I’d offer to look after them, but with my hours at the moment – “

Gabrielle cut off your rant with a wave of a hand. “Don’t even explain yourself, I know how busy you are.”

“Maybe when the launch is over – “

“I’ll definitely take you up on that offer when the launch is over.”

You grin before you move over to the next set of clothes before a flash of deep red caught your eye. You pick up the dress from the rack, turning it around in your hands. It was cute, long sleeved, and styled as a button up shirt dress. It cinched in at the waist with a matching belt.

And it was on sale.

It would be good for the date, and for that business meeting you had next week. You were sold.

“I’m getting this,” you said to Gabrielle, putting the dress back before looking through the rest for your size. You pull it from the others, giving it a final once over before hanging it over your arm as you approached Gabrielle, who was also giving it a once over.

She nodded. “Pretty. You should get some new shoes to go with it.”

“I already have those black knee-high boots I bought last month, I haven’t worn those yet.”

Gabrielle grinned. “You’re gonna be a knockout.”

After having a quick lunch with Gabrielle and saying your goodbyes to her and Luna, you made your way home to prepare yourself for your date. You took a nice long, relaxing soak in your bath, using your favourite vanilla scented bodywash. After the water was long cooled, you climbed out and took your time to dry off, moisturising and placing on a face mask, using some of your free time to catch up on your Netflix show you had all but nearly abandoned due to your busy schedule.

Halfway through an episode, you gave Santi another text, telling him you were looking forward to your date. It didn’t take him long to text back, telling you the same and that he will see you there at 7:30pm.

After a few more episodes of your show, you had to get ready, or you’d be late. Your face mask was removed long ago, your skin was glowing, and soft, ready for your usual date make up. You chose to go for a red lip tonight, to go with your new red dress. You style your hair before finally putting on the dress and boots. You grab your bag and look at yourself in the mirror.

You’re damn hot, if you do say so yourself.

You called an Uber, intending on having some wine with dinner. You text your friends your Uber details as you got into the cab and shared your location (you’d heard too many horror stories), thanking the driver before you made your way to the restaurant, five minutes to spare for the reservation. You confirmed to your friends that you’d arrived okay and made your way into the restaurant. You smiled at the host, giving Santi’s name before being led to a table of two towards the front, by the window.

You thank the host and take a seat, placing your bag over the back of your chair as a waiter, barely older than eighteen, quickly comes over and hands you a menu. He introduces himself as Jacob, and he was your ‘server for the evening’. He spouted off the specials they had on that night. You thanked him before ordering a medium glass of wine with a smile. He walked away quickly as took a quick look around. You had to hand it to Santi, Bella Cucina was a nice place. It was dimly lit, but not so much that it was too dark; just enough to be considered cosy. The music was softly playing in the background, blending in with the lull of conversation of the other patrons.

You looked through the menu, not sure if you wanted pasta or pizza, or to try something new. You gave Jacob a thank you as he bought your white wine, taking a sip as you looked back through the menu. A mushroom and parmesan risotto sounded good, in a creamy sauce and spinach. It would definitely go well with your white wine.

The question of your name causes you to look up from the menu. Your eyes widen and your heart skips a beat as you look into the molten brown eyes of the most good-looking human being you’d ever seen, with a head of dark curls your fingers were itching to run through. He was dressed in a white button up, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, revealing his toned and golden hued forearms. He wore dark pants, which were displaying just thick his thighs were, which already had you nearly drooling. With his chiselled jawline, accentuated by a hint of stubble, he exuded a sense of rugged masculinity and confidence. You had to practically lift your jaw up off the floor.

He gives you a smile that was almost a smirk at your blatant ogling, before he holds his hand out to you. “I’m Santi.”

You blink at him before standing, reaching to shake his hand. “Sorry. It’s nice to meet you, Santi.” You introduce yourself.

“Nice to meet you too. Have you been waiting long?”

You shake your head as you both take your seats opposite each other. “Nope, not at all. Just arrived, actually.”

“Okay, good. Did you get a chance to look at the menu? Know what you’re having?”

“I was looking at the mushroom risotto, it sounds amazing.”

“I’ll be sure to take a look.”

You hummed in agreement before picking up your menu again, only to give yourself something to do as you subtly checked him out again.

Emily was right, he was really good looking. Like, just-your-type good looking. You couldn’t stop staring at him. He had a slight crease in his brow as he frowned at the menu, his full, well-defined lips slightly pouting. They looked like they held a promise of tender moments and stolen kisses. Every subtle movement and gesture projected an effortless confidence that was undeniably attractive. You made a mental note to give Emily a bunch of flowers, or a fruit basket as thanks.

Or you needed to get a grip. Although handsome, stunning, practically striking, Santi is just like any other guy you’ve dated.

You avert your gaze as he places down his menu. “I think I’ll have the spaghetti and meatballs. Keep it simple.” He gives you a closed lipped smile.

Jacob made his way over as soon as you closed your menus. After Santi ordered his drink (a standard beer), you briefly discussed appetisers and sides. You both agreed to split a few sides with your mains, giving Jacob a smile of thanks as he walked away to put in your order.

You both went quiet. It was a little awkward, as all first dates were, especially blind dates. You expected it.

“So what is it you do, Santi? Emily mentioned you were ex-army?”

Santi hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, Special Ops, actually. Now I’m just consulting.” He went quiet for a moment before lightly shrugging a shoulder. “Needed to settle down, somewhere. Did a lot of moving around, you know?”

You nod in interest, taking a sip of your almost forgotten wine. “Been anywhere interesting?”

“Mostly South America. Thanks.” Santi gave a nod to Jacob as his beer was placed in front of him. “Nowhere exciting really. Didn’t really see the sights.”

“Maybe one day, now that you’re just consulting.”

Santi hummed in acknowledgement before resting his elbows on the table, leaning forward towards you. “You work in marketing with Emily, right? What do you do in your free time?”

You give a short laugh. “Unfortunately, not an awful lot. I like reading but I haven’t picked a book up for probably a year now. I tried yoga once and hated it. I couldn’t shut off.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I get that.”

“What about you? What do you do in your free time?”

“I jog, and hike sometimes. I occasionally play guitar, but not so much recently.”

Conversation starts to flow a little easier as you wait for your food. You found out that he had a big family but due to his old job, he hadn’t been around much, so they barely spoke. Your heart broke a little for him when he mentioned his father had died when he was young, and his mother a few years ago when he was away in Colombia. You had given his hand a squeeze at that. He had said he was fine, that ‘his boys’ were there, in Florida, and they were his family really.

You mentioned that you weren’t overly close with your family either since they didn’t quite agree with your career path, and the fact you moved away as soon as you could. He got a bit of a kick from that. You talked about your college years, and Santi his early days in training. You shared a few laughs about the things you both got up to, which would make the devil blush.

Once your food arrived, you ordered more drinks, since your first ones had long been emptied. The same again, white wine and a beer.

“This is a really nice place,” you comment as you tuck into your risotto.

Santi nodded. “Yeah, my buddy Frankie brings his wife here all the time. He recommended this place to me.”

“Take all your dates here?” you teased.

He laughed, looking up at you from his food. “Just you.”

You felt your cheeks warm slightly as you smirked, taking a bite from the side of greens you’d ordered.

You talked about what movies you both liked. Surprisingly, Santi was partial to a cheesy romance movie, and a sucker for when the underdog comes out on top. But his favourite movies, unironically, where the Mission: Impossible movies. You teased him good naturedly about that, something he threw straight back at you, laughing.

You talked about your favourite music. Santi was a die-hard Metallica fan and had been since he was a kid. He it had always gotten him ‘in the zone’ back in his army days. You briefly touched upon that, but his, respectfully shot that down. He’d mentioned he’d been out of the game for a while, since he needed surgery on his back, and his bad knees. You didn’t pry, it wasn’t any of your business.

You also talked about your friends. How you had a close group of three friends, but since kids and marriage were coming into play, you hadn’t seen them as much as you used to. Which was fine, of course. Santi then told you of his friends, his brothers from the army. How they were his chosen family, and how he’d do anything for them. He mentioned Tom, someone who he lost half a year ago before he officially retired.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, that’s awful for you.”

Santi shrugged, giving a small smile that didn’t contain any happiness. “It’s okay. It’s a risk we take with the job.”

You both mentally decide to move on and change the subject. You finished your meals and opted out of dessert, ordering more drinks for yourselves instead. It was probably your fourth glass of wine, and you were feeling light but not quite tipsy. The restaurant was slowly emptying, and you found yourself feeling slightly down that the date was coming to an end. You found Santi Garcia to be a captivating paradox, a mix of strength, charm, and intellect in a way that was utterly irresistible.

At this point, Emily was getting a bouquet, and a fruit basket.

You mention getting the check, and seeing if you both wanted a coffee somewhere else. That was when Santi suddenly tensed, and you blinked at him in surprise. Had you said the wrong thing?

“I should really be getting home.”

“Oh. Sure, okay, not a problem.”

He pulled a face, squirming in his chair, uncomfortable. “Listen, I don’t want to sound rude, or anything but…” Santi licked his lips nervously before looking at you apologetically. “I only agreed to this because it got Emily off my back. Don’t get me wrong, you’re really nice, but she’s been hounding me for months about setting me up with someone, and – “

“She can’t keep her nose out of it?” you ask, raising an eyebrow in amusement as you grinned at him.

Santi sighed, his shoulders relaxing just a smidge as he nodded at you. “Yeah.”

You shook your head. “Don’t worry about it. I only said yes because she sounded really excited about setting me up. I’m not interested in anything serious, at all.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Okay. It’s just that Emily had mentioned that your friends were married, and you were – “

You roll your eyes. Fuck the fruit basket. “She was wrong. I have no desire for relationship. We can end this here. I’ve had a great night regardless, if you don’t want to see me again, that’s no problem.”

Santi studied you for a moment before he leaned forward towards you, that smirk on his face again. “In that case, I’m going to be really bold here and tell you I think you’re really attractive and I’d like to make you feel good for the night, if you’re interested?”

Your breath hitched, and you felt a shiver go down your spine. That was bold. And you were all for it.

You cleared your throat, looking for Jacob to ask for the check. You smile at your server, telling him you had a fantastic night, food was excellent, and you would be coming again. You turned back to look at Santi as the teen walked off. You smirked. “Your place or mine?”

“What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t get you home?” he smirked.

#triple frontier #santiago garcia x reader #santiago x reader #santiago garcia x f!reader #santiago garcia #oscar isaac #pregnant!reader

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Shortbread, pt 2

Pt 1 here

word count: 643

___________

The first time you’d laid eyes on Bucky Barnes, he had eyeblack on his face, highlighting the piercing blue of his eyes. He’d seen you and headed in your direction, the look on his face impassable. You’d worried you might die, in those seconds. Then he’d shaken his head and looked at you again, his brow furrowed in confusion. He’d been distracted from his pursuit of you, but for the first time in your life, you’d frozen in fear. 

Four years passed before you saw him again, and your life had changed drastically. You’d known Sam Wilson since you’d taken your medic training together in the Air Force. Sam had moved on to Pararescue, and you’d continued as a med tech, preferring to keep your feet on solid ground. You’d only been working as an EMT for a few weeks after your discharge when Tony Stark recruited you to work for the Avengers. Turns out, Sam had recommended you after seeing you that day on the freeway. 

When Steve and Sam finally brought Bucky in, Sam asked you to assess Bucky. Not that you had any expertise in brainwashing, and Sam knew that. But for whatever reason, Bucky seemed to trust you, and you followed him to Wakanda, working with Shuri on removing the brainwashing and helping him heal. The friendship had blossomed easily between you. You were prone to pranks and silliness, and Bucky responded well to your juvenile humour. The romance just sort of flowed from there. 

“I never thought I’d find this,” he murmured, lips against your forehead. You snuggled into him as his arm came around you, and rested your hand on his bare chest, over his heart. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Everyone deserves love, Buck,” you countered. He shook his head.

“Sweetheart, I’ve done things -”

“I know. I’ve seen the dossier,” you interrupted. “We’ve discussed this. That wasn’t you. I love you, Bucky. Not the winter soldier. You.”

“I wish I could give you everything,” he sighed. “If we’d met before, there coulda been a picket fence, and a bunch of kids and -”

“I wasn’t alive in the forties, Bucky. You’re here now. We can only happen now,” you interrupted again, gesturing to your nude bodies in bed. He frowned, and tried to open his mouth again. You placed a finger on his lips to silence him. “Seriously. Even if we could have met then, we certainly wouldn’t have this relationship. No premarital sex, not even making out -”

“I don’t know what textbooks you’ve been reading from but I wasn’t a blushing virgin before you, doll. I wasn’t even a blushing virgin when I joined the army. There absolutely was sex and making out, and I was damn good at it. You don’t think I learned all this from you, do you?” He laughed, kissing a trail down your neck and across your collarbone.

“Of course not!” You laughed, rolling on top of him. “I’m not naive, but we didn’t exactly court, did we?”

“No, but you’ve always made me feel like I’ve known you forever. Like we would find each other no matter what life.” He pulled you down against him and rolled you on your back. “I just wish we could have found each other before HYDRA found me. They took so much more than my arm away.”

“I love you, Bucky. One arm or two. Emotional scars and brainwash residue and everything in between.”

“What if I can’t give you a family?” He asked. He’d mentioned that he was certain HYDRA had sterilized him in the context of protection the first time you’d been together.

“A family doesn’t have to include kids. But if you think it does, we’ll adopt,” you shrugged. “It’s still a little early to talk kids though.”

“You make me look at the forever, sweetheart,” he said. “I can’t help it.”

_____

to be continued...

______

@rampant-salamander @bolontiku @castiels-sunflowers

[journeyintofiction]

hii, can u do a Shuri x reader where the reader is in college and is getting verbally and physically abused by her parents due to her bad academics performance but she won’t tell Shuri because she has a country to worry about until Shuri eventually finds out because the reader won’t answer calls or texts? <33

Hello everyone! I took a tiny hiatus because I had a very huge loss in my family right before New years so I was not in the mental headspace to write anything. However, I am back and unfortunately the college semester is in full swing. Pls send help im dying 

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of verbally and physically abusive parents

Word count:1k

As always, happy reading :) 

“y/n, you better not be crying in your room before I come in there and give you something to cry about!”

I quickly attempt to muffle my sobs by burying my head in my comforter on the bed, hoping and praying that my parents can’t hear me. God knows I don’t need another beating after what happened tonight. 

It always happens like this. Every single time. I do my best, get anything lower than an A and I know as soon as I come home I’m gonna have my ass beat. No matter how hard the class is or how hard I work they don’t care because if it isn’t an A it is considered a failure. I went to the college they wanted me to go to because I could stay home and make money but that meant I couldn’t escape their abuse. 

This semester I had a slip up and got a C in a class and in turn they beat the shit out of me as a form of “teaching me” a lesson. It's not just the physical abuse, every insult was a purposeful stab at me because I failed to meet their expectations or it was just because they had a shitty day and wanted to hurt my feelings. I am at a breaking point mentally, emotionally, and physically.

I hear my phone vibrate and I pick my head up from my comforter to look at my phone and see Shuri’s name pop up on the screen. A smile slightly at the thought of her but wince when I feel the tightness of my skin from my tears drying. I slowly move over to where my phone is so I can text back before she gets worried.

Shuri always knew my schedule and when I suddenly don't answer and she knows I'm at home, she gets worried sick. I shoot her a text and let her know I cant talk and just as I am about to hit send she calls me. Out of fear I quickly answer and start speaking in hushed tones so that my parents dont hear me.

“Shuri, i love you, but right now really isn’t a good time.”

She pauses and asks, “Are you at home?”

“What? Yes I’m at home, you know my routine plus you can track me right now.” I say in confusion.

“My love, I have been trying to call you for the last 2 hours.”

I go silent for a moment and try to figure out how to explain the entire situation without getting Shuri upset or involved with my parents. She takes my silence as a negative response and begins to respond before I can.

“y/n if you have something going on, please just tell me.”

I bite my lip and respond on the verge of tears, “Shuri I want to tell you, I really do but if I say anything… I-”

I get cut off by my mom coming up the stairs and I shove my phone under my pillow but don’t end the call so Shuri can hear everything.

“Who are you talking to up here, huh?”

I look at her impassively so that she believes me, “No one mom, I'm rereading something for my test tomorrow.”

“Yeah, you better be because if I see you come home with another B or less, you are gonna get your ass beat again. I'm not playing with you, your father and I have told you time and time again that we expect you to achieve and you fall short every time.”

I feel my eyes getting watery but otherwise show no emotion and respond as I always do, “of course, I’ll make sure its nothing less than an A.”

My mother looks at me hard and nods, “Keep studying and while you’re at it, dust your room and do laundry.”

With that she leaves to go back down stairs for the night and I pick up my phone from under my pillow. 

“Shuri, are you still there?”

Instead of a reply I get a facetime call and I accept it quickly, frowning at her when she appears on screen. 

“What's wrong? Why did you need to facetime me-”

Shuri looks at me angrily, “How long has this been happening?”

“How long has what been happening?” I say, playing dumb and hoping that she will drop the conversation.

“y/n.”

I sigh, “years, I… never said anything because I know you are busy and this is not your concern and responsibility.”

“All those bruises over the last few months, they were your parents weren’t they?” she whispered.

Looking down and picking at my comforter I mutter a soft “ya.”

She sighed and didn’t say anything for a moment, seemingly unsure of how to broach the subject without hurting me or making me uncomfortable. Then she finally asks, “What else have they…done?”

I hesitate and glance at her on the screen, “It’s just yelling and berating me most of the time but when I get a bad grade they, uh, beat me.”

“Is that why you reacted poorly when I yelled a few weeks back?”

I nod and she looks away from her screen guiltily, “No, Shuri don’t do that to yourself, you didn’t know back then.”

“I should have picked up on it though, I mean seriously the bruises and the flinching whenever my voice was raised should have told me everything I needed to know.”

I see her moving around frantically packing things and I frown because as far as I knew, she didn’t have a meeting and wasn’t expected to go anywhere this evening. When she glances over and sees my confused look she shrugs and raises an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Shuri… what are you doing?” I ask with my head cocked to the side.

“I’m coming to see you… and talk to your parents.”

“YOU'RE WHAT?”

A/N: Please forgive any grammatical errors, I am extremely tired and have had a looonnngggg week. 

#shuri x y/n #shuri x reader #shuri fanfiction #shuri udaku #shuri