#and now that he’s in the spotlight for this one thing he can’t help but feel like a bit of a disappointment
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Trouble
Joe Burrow x Reader
Your friends and family aren’t fond of Joe
“Seriously, he’s trouble. I can’t believe you’re going out with him.” Your friend scoffed, turning off the end of the Bengals game.
“He’s not trouble!” You defend him. “Really, he’s a nice guy!”
“Oh really? Is that why you’ve refused to tell your parents you’re dating him?”
“They’re just not big Bengal fans. It has nothing to do with Joe.” You lied as your friend rolled her eyes.
You had been secretly dating Joe Burrow, the Cincinnati Bengals Quarterback for 7 months now. It’s true, most people weren’t fond of Joe. He comes across as cocky, rude, and privileged. Plus his current bad boy edit doesn’t help much. Joe had recently gotten himself into trouble. He’s found a love for partying, blowing his money, and being reckless. All causing excess fame and a negative spotlight, something you wanted to avoid.
“Are you sure it has nothing to do with the fact that he got suspended from games for legal trouble? Or has shown up to practice violently hungover?”
“How’d you hear about that?” You questioned.
She laughed, “It’s all over the news. He’s gonna get himself into some real trouble and not have a career here soon.”
“He’s working on turning things around. Really. I swear.” You do your best to defend him again. You seem to be doing that a lot lately. “Plus we’ve only been seeing each other for a few months. I’m just having fun.”
“I know, and I’m happy for you. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.” She reaches out and takes your hand. “But I know none of that is going to change your mind, so go have fun tonight.”
“I love you. If my mom asks, I’m here!” You remind her and head out the door, “Your pizza should be here soon and I logged into my Netflix account!” You figured if your friend has to spend the night posted up in her room to cover for you, you might as well take care of her.
You hopped into your car and headed over to Joes house, he was throwing a party after the game. Joe’s parties were always fun, usually a little wild, and typically ended with the police kicking people out and shutting things down. As much as Joe was trying to work past his bad boy edit, he couldn’t help it. He’s young and having fun.
The loud music from Joe’s house is rattling your car as you pull into his driveway. He’s outside on the porch with some teammates smoking a cigar.
As you walk through his thick cloud of smoke and clear the air in front of your face with your hand, Joe pulls you into a hug.
“There’s my baby.” His words slurred, you’re unsure if it’s from alcohol or the thick cigar pressed between his lips.
“Hi, Joey.” You wrap your arms around his waste and snuggle into his chest. “Good game, congrats on the win.”
He pulls the cigar from his mouth, “I want you to come to the next one.” He smiles.
“Me? At the game? Isn’t it in a different state?” You question, suddenly nervous. You and Joe had been casually dating, nothing was public yet.
“The next home game.” He laughs, blowing a thick cloud of smoke over your head. “2 weeks.”
“I’ll think about it.” You try and reassure him.
“Think about it?” He asks offended.
“Well, yeah..I don’t… I’m not sure…” you feel his arms drop from around you. “I’m not sure I’m ready to go public yet.” You nervously tell him.
“It’s a football game. Not a red carpet.” He says annoyed.
“I know but…”
He cuts you off “It’s fine. Don’t come.”
“Joe I want to!” You reassure him.
“Seems like it.” He scoffs before heading inside, you following close behind.
“Joe I do! Really, there’s nothing I’d love more! I just still haven’t told many people about us, and you know, you haven’t had the best press lately and I don’t want to mess that up anymore for you and I just worry that-“
He presses the cigar to your mouth “take this.” He laughs cutting you off. “I’m sorry about the press. I’m working on it. Tomorrow I have a fun event at the elementary school. Next week, the high school. And the whole team is volunteering at the blood drive. Nothing but positive press up until the game.”
“Wow, what’s next? Taking a shift at the old folks home? Serving in the soup kitchen?” You tease.
He rolls his eyes, “So are you coming to the game or not?”
“I guess you better find me a Burrow jersey, because I’ll be there.” You smile.
The rest of the night is a blur. Lots of drinks, lots of dancing, too many sweaty bodies, and even louder music. You wake up the next morning tangled up in bed with Joe. His heavy arm around your waste and soft breathing on the backside of your neck. You slowly loosen his grip and start to make your way out of bed.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He grumbles, barely audible.
“Home.” You slip your shoes on. “And you need to get up too. Your elementary school meet and greet starts in 45 minutes.” You sit down on the side of the bed again. “I don’t think the elementary school principal appreciates his guest of honor showing up smelling like a mini bar.”
“You’re probably right.” He slowly starts to sit up. “I’ll reserve some spots for you for the game.” He says. “Any request on where you want to sit?”
All the nerves come back. “Doesn’t matter.” You smile at him, wishing you could avoid the game all together. It’s not that you were ashamed to be with him, you were just anxious about what people, especially your parents will say. “I’m gonna get out of here.” You quickly excuse yourself, not sure if the sudden butterflies in your stomach are from drinking too much, or the next home game.
You call your best friend on your way and tell her all about the game.
“You’re gonna have to tell your parents.”
“I can’t! They will freak if they find out I’ve been dating him!”
“So are you going to keep your relationship a secret forever?”
“I don’t know I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“Well scratch that thought, it’s not a secret anymore.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Check your phone.”
As you pull in your parents drive way, you pull out your phone to see a news article your friend sent you, a picture of you and Joe is on the front page. “Where did you find this?” You panicked.
“I was just checking E! News. It looks like every major magazine is covering it now!”
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” You sigh, “I have to tell them now. I’ve got to go, but I’ll call you later. I’ll probably need some support.”
“Good luck!” She says and ends the call.
“You’re WHAT?” You dad hollers, slamming down the news paper he was reading.
“Dad, he’s a nice guy. Really I -“
“No. The little romance you guys having going on is over. I can’t believe this. You’re such a good girl, why would you want to be with someone like him?”
“He’s nothing like what the press makes him out to be. He’s actually really kind, and supportive, and is volunteering a lot for the community.”
“I don’t care if he’s the president. You are not being seen with someone like him.”
“About that..”
“What?”
“Well the news got pictures of me at his house last night and leaked a story.” You hide your face in your hands.
“At his house?” Your mom questions. “So you’ve been lying to us? Clearly he’s a bad influence to be hanging around.”
“I lied because I knew you would react like this. You’re not even giving him a chance.”
“I’ve never seen you defend someone like this. What is going on?”
“I’m…”
Your dad crosses his arms across his chest “I’m in love with him. And I’m going to be with him and support him no matter how you feel. You don’t know him like I do.”
“I’ve never seen you fight for someone like this.”
“Because, I love him.”
Your dad sighs, “I don’t know if I like the sound of that. But I’m willing to give him a chance. Why don’t you invite him over.”
“Really?!”
“Like I said,” he pauses, “I’m not crazy about him, but I can tell that you, and for that reason, I want to get to know him.”
A few hours later, Joe shows up on your front porch and confidently knocks on the front door.
“Hi Joey.” You greet him with a smile and hug. “You look great… did you iron your shirt?” You tease him, brushing a hand across his perfectly pressed shirt.
“Steamed it actually.” He smiles, “I wanted to make a good impression.” He nervously takes your hand and follows you into the house.
“Mom, Dad, this is Joe.” You awkwardly present him to your parents.
He politely shakes their hands and takes a seat at the table next to you.
You feel his hand find its way to your thigh, his palms are sweaty, and his fingers are nervously tapping across your leg. You reassuringly take his hand into yours and lightly rub across the top and share a confident smile.
At the end of dinner, you and Joe excuse yourselves and you walk him to the porch.
“They loved you.” You kiss him.
“I’m so relieved.”
“My dad even wants to go to the game with me!”
He laughs, “I’ll get extra tickets.”
Relieved that your parents were pleased with Joe, you walked him out, he kissed you goodnight, and you sent him on his way home.
It’s official and the world knows, you’re in love with Joe Burrow.
#joe burrow#joe burrow fic#joe burrow fluff#joe burrow imagine#joe burrow one shot#joe burrow smut#joe burrow x reader#joe burrow fan fic#joe burrow insta au#joe burrow instagram#nfl fluff#nfl smut#nfledit#nfl fan fic#nfl imagine
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i find it damn near impossible to get mad at santana’s behavior in 3x06 and 3x07 because i genuinely do think she had the right to be lashing out at everybody. sue me idk
#idgaf if she was mean to kurt and blaine when they were “trying to help” in IKAG#they were the first performance & santana was put under the spotlight by the guy who fully outed her to the ENTIRE STATE OF OHIO & now she#-was expected to be just happy and jolly about some bullshit lady music week to celebrate women as if that has anything to do with wtf just#-happened to her by finn’s hands & of course she was upset because she was only back in the new directions because finn basically#-blackmailed her into rejoining like hello!!! so of course she was snippy with them… and tbh i don’t even think she was being that mean.#i think she’d have reason to be even MEANER actually. that reaction of hers was completely reasonable. and honestly it must’ve hurt seeing#-two people who are meant to Get what it’s like.. participate in that? especially when the last thing she wants is her sexuality that she’s#-still very insecure with Being broadcasted. to the whole damn club. it’s already about to be shown to all of ohio with names addresses#-details about her whole personal life etc like she really didn’t need that spotlight right then she needed to have space and love and#-support… none of which she got.#also the glee writers tend to make a character do a bad thing and then have another character do an INFINITELY WORSE THING#and then they’re like “oh but. the first character was being so mean. this absolutely deplorable and wayyyy too far reaction is definitely#-justified now because that was just so mean of the first character ugh!” and basically spins what happened into showing the first characte#-as the most evil person alive??? as if that’s even remotely true.??? and yes this is about santana cause they do this w her#and quinn. a LOTTTT. like a LOT. rn i’m talking ab santana though so i won’t cover quinn sorry fabrayers… one day!#like yes santana was being mean sure whatever. but finn didn’t have an excuse IDGAF what the hell anybody says about the body shaming stuff#it was mean. yes that’s true. but i don’t think you understand how different those two things are#they’re both bad but the outing is infinitely more despicable and personal and filled with malice and it’s so much more endangering in a wa#-that can’t even be compared to the dangers of body shaming you know. like they’re completely different and the outing thing is just too#-personal and Wrong like. idk. just get that through ur head they’re both so different and finn went way too far and personal. he could’ve#-just mocked her looks if he really wanted to get back at her. mocked ANYTHING else. but he chose the worst thing you could do to somebody#who is scared and in the closet and hurting#also yes santana’s written to be rude a lot of the time but her degree of rudeness in those episodes was Overplayed and def not in characte#like it didn’t feel much like santana’s brand of meanness it was 100% the writers trying to justify finn more because they continued to#-paint finn as the good guy who chose the high road… when that couldn’t be further from the truth thanks. he didn’t choose the high road he#-completely blackmailed santana and used her to make him look good basically. so you can’t change my mind on that Def being a writer issue#and just them Hating Women. especially santana. thanks.#also this is all coming from somebody who loves finn. so. 🤣#i fuckingggg hate seeing people say santana was mean and had no right to be doing all of that in those eps.. BITCH YES SHE DID#like in other eps sure (<- nuanced topic/take) but this one? No. she was justified IDGAF. should’ve been meaner
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Ramblings about my own fic-
Man I knew I wanted to tackle Colin in the wake of coming out publicly, but I did not expect the way this path has taken me. Because while that is The Thing Going On, it is not the thrust of his story, at least not as far as we get it when filtered through a Roy Kent POV.
Anyways I wrote the Big Talk between him and Roy yesterday, and it’s a lot about self-esteem and where Colin fits into the dynamics of the team, and I’m quite proud of it but I also can’t share details because spoilers and it’s killing me
#I have told one (1) person a bit of the details of Colin’s storyline in this fic#and their casual watcher response was ‘ooohh you might be giving me Colin feels’#which yes! that is what I want!#the thing about Colin is he is normal he is literally Just Some Guy - and he knows it!#and the spotlights on him now for this thing that is intrinsic to him - isn’t something he did isn’t something he could control or decided#and he isn’t Jamie with his Jamie-ness or Sam with his integrity and morals or Isaac with his strong personality and swag#he isn’t even one of the best players on the team!#he is just Some Guy. and he’s had his whole life to become acclimated to that fact#and now that he’s in the spotlight for this one thing he can’t help but feel like a bit of a disappointment#in that way that people who don’t want the spotlight tend to feel it wasn’t meant for them in the first place#colin hughes#[redacted title] post season three fic#ted lasso fic
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MILF
Toto Wolff x wife!Reader
Summary: Toto knows his wife is a MILF … but this doesn’t mean he is okay with his son’s friends calling you that
Warnings: teenage boys doing teenage boy things
Based on this request
“Pass the schnitzel, darling,” you say to your husband as the three of you sit down for dinner. Your teenage son has just gotten home from school, and you can’t wait to hear about his day.
Toto smiles at you as he passes the platter of breaded veal. “How was school?” He asks.
Lukas shrugs as he takes a bite. “It was okay,” he mumbles through a mouthful of food.
You give him a look. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, sweetie,” you gently chide. Even though he’s almost an adult now, you still see your little boy in him.
Lukas swallows and straightens up. “Sorry, Mum.”
“So tell us about your day,” you prompt. “Learn anything new and interesting?”
Your son fidgets in his seat. “Well … some of the guys were talking about you today.”
You raise your eyebrows in surprise. “Me? What about me?”
Lukas glances uncomfortably at his father. “Just … stuff they saw online. Paparazzi photos from when we were on the yacht last month.”
Toto sets his fork down, his expression darkening. He’s no stranger to being in the public eye, but he’s always been protective of you and Lukas. “What exactly were they saying?” He asks in a carefully neutral tone.
“They, uh …” Lukas rubs the back of his neck. “They called Mom a MILF.”
“A what?” Toto sputters, while you have to suppress a laugh. You’re familiar with the crude term, given your substantially younger age compared to your husband.
“It’s not funny!” Toto says indignantly. “I won’t have people objectifying my wife like that.”
You reach over and pat his arm. “It’s okay, dear. I’m not bothered by it.” You turn back to Lukas with an amused smile. “I’m flattered those boys think your old mom’s still got it.”
“You’re not old!” Lukas protests loyally. “It’s just, you know, you’re a lot younger than Vati, and you’re really pretty, so the guys notice.”
Toto scowls, but you grin and blow your son a kiss. “Thanks, sweetie.” Your playful reaction seems to visibly relax him.
“This is unacceptable,” Toto shakes his head. “I should call the school. Get those little punks suspended for sexual harassment.”
“Oh Toto, don’t be silly,” you wave dismissively. “They’re just teenage boys. I’m sure they didn’t mean any harm.”
“It doesn’t matter!” He insists. “Your dignity and privacy should be respected, not exploited. People think because we’re in the spotlight that they can say whatever vulgar nonsense they want.”
You reach over again and lace your fingers through his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “I know it bothers you, darling. But I married you knowing full well how public our lives would be. A little crude gossip comes with the territory.”
Toto opens his mouth to retort, then pauses, some of the indignation leaving his eyes. “I just don’t want anyone disrespecting you,” he says finally.
You smile softly. Even after all these years of marriage, your heart still flutters at his protectiveness. “I know. It’s one of the many things I love about you.”
Lukas makes a face. “Ugh, gross. Can you guys not be all mushy right now?”
You laugh and blow him another kiss. “Sorry Lukas. I can’t help it — your father’s the love of my life.”
Toto smiles back at you, the anger fading from his face. “And you’re mine, schatzi.”
Your son pretends to gag. “Seriously, stop. I’m trying to eat here.”
You chuckle and spear another bite of schnitzel. “Alright, we’ll behave. Now, tell me more about the rest of your day ...”
The conversation moves on to lighter topics as you finish up dinner. You listen attentively while Lukas fills you in on the drama with his friend group and his struggles in history class.
After clearing the dishes, the three of you move to the living room. You curl up next to Toto on the couch while Lukas sprawls out on the carpet to play video games.
You close your eyes contentedly and rest your head on your husband’s shoulder. Despite the lifestyle that being married to Toto provides you with, this right here is your happy place — your little family, spending a quiet evening at home.
Toto wraps an arm around you and presses a soft kiss to your temple. “Have I told you lately how lucky I am?” He murmurs.
You smile up at him. “Even after all these years, you still give me butterflies.”
“Good,” he says firmly. “I’ll tell you every day if I have to, until you’re sick of hearing it.”
Lukas groans loudly from the floor. “Could you guys be any more embarrassing?”
You and Toto both laugh. “What? I can’t tell my beautiful wife how much I love her?” He calls out in protest.
“Not when I’m right here!” Lukas complains. “Get a room or something.”
You grin mischievously. “That’s not a bad idea ...” you say, running a hand up your husband’s chest.
Toto’s eyes darken. “Minx,” he murmurs.
Lukas scrambles to his feet. “Okay, I’m out of here.” He gives you both a look of exaggerated disgust as he heads upstairs.
You and Toto chuckle as you listen to his bedroom door slam shut.
“Now, where were we?” Toto says in a low voice, pulling you closer. You bite your lip coyly as he presses his mouth to yours. No matter how many years go by, the chemistry between you is still electric.
You shift against him eagerly as the kiss deepens. His hands slide down to grip your hips, and you make a soft noise of pleasure. After nearly two decades of marriage, he knows exactly how to touch you.
“Tell me again,” you whisper when you finally break apart, slightly breathless.
Toto gazes into your eyes. “I love you,” he says sincerely. “I will always love you. Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
You kiss him again, tenderly this time. “I love you too, Toto. Forever.”
No matter what people say or how famous you become, your relationship has always been grounded in this — the unwavering love between you. The rest of the world falls away when you’re together.
You rest your head contentedly on his shoulder again, his arms wrapped around you. This right here, next to the man who still looks at you like you hung the moon, is home.
***
The next day after school, Lukas comes home with a few of his friends in tow. You’re just finishing up putting away the groceries when you hear the chatter of teenage voices approaching.
“Hey Mum, we’re gonna hang out downstairs,” Lukas calls out as the group of boys raids the kitchen fridge for snacks.
You smile and give them a little wave. “Hi boys. There’s more drinks in the pantry if you need it.”
The teenagers rumble acknowledgements through mouthfuls of food before thundering downstairs to your home theater room. You chuckle and shake your head. Teenage appetites are truly a phenomenon.
You’re straightening up the living room when you hear the front door open again, signaling Toto’s return from work.
“Hello, liebling,” he greets you warmly, sweeping you into an embrace.
You kiss him in welcome. “How was work today?”
“The usual madness,” he sighs. “But coming home to you makes it all worthwhile.”
You smile up at him adoringly. Even after all these years, your heart still flutters at his smooth compliments.
“Oh, Lukas has some friends over,” you mention. “They’re downstairs watching movies or playing video games.”
Toto frowns a little. “Those wouldn’t happen to be the same friends who were objectifying you?”
You pat his chest placatingly. “Now dear, we talked about this. Don’t make a fuss.”
“Hmph.” He still looks slightly disgruntled. “Well, I should at least go down and say hello.”
You follow him downstairs, where the group of teenage boys are sprawled out on the sofas engrossed in some action movie. Explosions boom from the surround sound system as CGI buildings crumble onscreen.
They look up when you and Toto enter. “Oh hey Mr. Wolff,” one of them says.
“Vati, you remember my friends right?” Lukas introduces. “Jason, Andrew, Ryan, and David.”
“Ah yes, nice to see you boys again,” Toto says smoothly.
Too smoothly.
You can sense the storm brewing beneath his polite façade.
Sure enough, as the teens’ attention returns to the movie, Toto clears his throat. “So I heard you boys were discussing my wife the other day.”
The room goes silent, save for the cinematic explosions still blaring through the speakers. The boys glance around uneasily.
“Um, we didn’t mean anything bad by it,” David finally offers timidly.
Toto raises an eyebrow. “Oh? So objectifying and sexualizing a married woman is not meant to be disrespectful?”
The teens squirm under his icy stare. You put a warning hand on your husband’s arm, but he continues.
“Let me tell you something about my wife,” he says, an edge creeping into his tone. “She is an elegant, successful, and highly intelligent woman. Not some piece of meat for you ogling schoolboys to drool over.”
The chastised boys all mumble apologies and stare fixedly at the floor.
Toto points a stern finger at them. “I trust there will be no further vulgar comments, or you won’t be welcome in this house again.”
“Yes sir,” they mutter. Lukas looks like he wants the leather couch to swallow him whole. You have to stifle a smile at your husband’s overprotective papa bear routine.
“Good. I’m glad we understand each other.” Toto straightens his suit jacket. “Now you boys enjoy your … movie.”
He turns and heads back upstairs, with you following after an apologetic smile to the shell-shocked teens.
Once you’re out of earshot, you swat his shoulder reproachfully. “Toto! Did you really need to traumatize the poor kids?”
“I didn’t traumatize them,” he huffs. “I just … explained a few things.” At your skeptical look, he amends “ … Firmly.”
You shake your head in exasperation. “You’re impossible. I thought I asked you not to make a fuss.”
He takes your hands earnestly. “I’m sorry, schatzi. I just can’t stand anyone disrespecting you. You deserve to be treated like a queen.”
You soften at the sincerity in his eyes. “Oh Toto. You’re too good to me.” You wrap your arms around him in a conciliatory hug.
He holds you close. “Nonsense. I’ll spend every day proving you’re the most important thing in the world to me.”
You snuggle against his chest, reminded yet again how lucky you are. Even when he overreacts, you know it comes from a place of devotion.
“Just promise me you’ll go easy on the boys,” you say wryly as you pull back. “I think you scared them straight for life.”
Toto smiles ruefully. “I suppose I did get a bit … intense. But the message won’t do any harm.”
You laugh and kiss his cheek. “My noble protector.”
He grins. “Proudly.”
Later, as the boys are getting ready to leave, Toto stops them at the front door.
“Before you go, I have one more thing to say,” he announces. The teens glance at each other nervously.
Toto looks each of them in the eye. “If I ever hear of you disrespecting my wife again, I won’t be so kind. You see, she’s actually a MIDF … Mother I Do Fuck.” He enunciates the words pointedly.
The teens’ eyes widen in horror, and Lukas turns bright red. “Vati!” He hisses in embarrassment.
Toto ignores him. “So I would appreciate it if you kept your crude comments to yourselves next time.” He gives them a tight smile. “Are we clear?”
The boys nod rapidly. “Yes sir. Crystal clear, Mr. Wolff,” one mumbles.
“Good.” Toto claps his hands together. “Then get home safely.”
After the front door shuts behind the fleeing teens, Lukas rounds on his father. “Oh my god, Vati! Why would you say that?”
He shrugs unapologetically. “I wanted to make sure they got the message loud and clear this time.”
Lukas just shakes his head in mortification before stomping upstairs.
You slide your arms around your unrepentant husband. “You just couldn’t resist, could you?”
“They left with a healthy dose of fear and respect,” Toto says smugly. “I think my work here is done.”
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#toto wolff#toto wolff imagine#toto wolff x reader#toto wolff x you#toto wolff fic#toto wolff fluff#toto wolff fanfic#toto wolff blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#toto wolff x y/n#mercedes amg f1#formula 1#formula one#f1 imagines#f1 fics
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After All These Years | Finnick Odair x Reader
THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox
Summary: You think he no longer cares, and he thinks you're better off without him. But the reaping for the 75th hunger games puts a dent in both of those thoughts
Content Warnings/Tags: Angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, insinuations of smut, kissing, once again not proofread
Requested by @rottingpeache: absolutely need to see enemies to lovers with finnick. “I really don’t like you.” “And I really don’t believe you.”
Word Count: 1k
A/N: No clue if this is actually enemies to lovers or just a poor attempt at it. I'm gonna go take a nap now but there is more coming cause the requests sparked something in me again so thank you to everyone who sent them!!
None of you had expected it to happen, how could you? But you've learned by now there is no point in fighting it either. So when you heard Mags’ name being called out and you volunteered in her stead, you suppose it was simply out of habit. In a world like this, the only thing that makes you feel like you are surviving is helping others do the same thing. As you stepped forward you could see the cameras zooming in on your face, trying to capture every expression you were making. You saw the cameras do the same for Finnick. Years of being in an unwelcome spotlight had made his poker face almost unbreakable, but the small furrow of his eyebrows and the twitch in his gallant smile told you everything you needed to know.
It wasn't until the next day that he first spoke to you. Over the years you would see each other, of course, you would talk. But at all the events and all the parties you did nothing more than exchange pleasantries. But now he came out of your peripheral vision and cornered you against the wall behind you with his broad arms.
“What were you thinking, this might be the stupidest thing you've ever done.” His demeanour seemed angry, he seemed serious. But you had no reason to match it, you just wanted to get under his skin like he got under yours.
“Be careful what you say, you might actually be the stupidest thing I’ve done.” you wondered if he remembered, if he remembered the night you had spent together so many years ago, it had been the best night of your life, and you had no idea if he even remembered. If he did, he didn't let it show.
“Did you even think it through? You survived the arena once, and only barely, what makes you think you’ll make it out alive again.” His voice was a low rasp, and if you didn't know better, you'd say he sounded upset. But you knew better, Finnick had shown you his true colours when he started avoiding you, and you did remember that.
“I wasn't thinking, how could I? All I could think about was Mags having to go through it all again, you more than anyone else know she deserves better.” you were looking him in the eyes now, and it took all of your willpower not to melt. “My games weren’t that long ago, I did it then and I’m still here, I can do it again.”
He stepped closer to you, eliminating the remaining space between your bodies, his chest against yours, and you could feel his heart skip a beat as he spoke.
“Exactly, I was there, and it damn near broke me too. I was there to piece you back together. But I won’t watch it happen to you again, I can’t let it happen. Because what if I’m not there this time, what if I'm not there to put you back together.” There was a stark contrast between his face and his voice. As you looked at him you saw his eyes soften, and it gave you a glimpse of the Finnick you once knew. But his voice was still filled with anger, and it snapped you back to reality.
“And how would you know what I can and cannot handle.” You were challenging him now, but he had you matched.
“Because I know you. Even if you don’t believe so, I know what youre like, I know how you think. You might believe I forgot, that I ignore you and go on with my life as if nothing happened. But if you were to actually think for one second you would see that I’m simply doing what's best for you, I just want what’s best for you but now you’ve gone and ruined all of it in one day.
You’re at a loss for words, because maybe he was right, maybe you had gone and messed up everything with a single sentence at the reaping. But maybe everything was finally making a turn for the better, because for the first time, he was telling you he cared. And you’re thankful to finally see his thoughts shine through, but you’re overwhelmed too. So you turn around, you turn away from him, wanting to escape the confrontation. Except he’s not letting you go, not this time
“I really don’t care what you think Finnick.” You weren’t sure if you believed your own words, but you needed to get away from him.
“And I really don’t believe you.” You tried shrugging him off again, and you were about to turn away from him when you felt him grab onto your arm and pull you into him. As you looked up you could feel his eyes fixed on yours.
And so you do the only thing you can think of, you do the thing you want most in this moment right here, you kiss him. You tell yourself that consequences be damned, because even if he will hate you for it, even if you’ll regret it later, at least you have this one moment to get yourself through it, at least you didn't let your fears of losing him completely win this time. You kiss him as if everything will be okay, because when you feel his lips start to move in sync with yours, it is.
For a moment you think everything will resolve itself and you and Finnick can live together in a small house near the beach. For a moment you forget how much you hate him for everything he put you through. Because in this moment, if life could be like this moment, you’d forgive him for all of it. And you don't know it yet, but he’s even more scared than you are.
#finnick odair fanfic#finnick odair fluff#finnick odair x reader#finnick odair x you#finnick odair x y/n#finnick odair fanfiction#finnick odair#finnick odair angst#finnick odair imagine#the hunge games#thg#finnick x y/n#finnick x you#finnick x reader#finnick angst#finnick fluff#the hunger games finnick#the hunger games fluff#the hunger games angst#enemies to lovers#finnick fanfic#finnick imagine#hunger games finnick#thg finnick#finnick#angst#fluff
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Before driving deeper into Usopp’s side of thing, I want to focus a little bit on Luffy, because as I’ve mentioned previously, this fight between has a bit of a different flavor from other Luffy-centric battles, but what I haven’t mentioned yet is how public all this is. The final battles with big bads like Arlong, Crocodile, and Enel were all away from other people, but not here. The shift of Luffy becoming a more public figure started with his ass whooping of Bellamy way back in Jaya, but even that was only in front of a bunch of pirates. Showing up to rock Enies Lobby is what’s really going to launch him into the public spotlight, and so it stands to reason that this final stand against Lucci is seen by both the marines and the Straw Hat Pirates.
So far he and Lucci have been on pretty equal footing, but Lucci managed to save his last big trump card until this moment, and seems to have Luffy beat when Usopp shows himself for real. Oda puts a ton of emphasis on Luffy’s expression, this panel alone taking up 3/4 of the page.
And, like, imagine Luffy’s shock. The gag of him not recognizing who Sogeking is turns on its head and is instead played for the deepest, juiciest drama. Usopp isn’t a Straw Hat anymore. He had no obligation to come to Enies Lobby. But he did.
All throughout Enies Lobby there’s been this running thread of the Straw Hats helping each other out of situations they couldn’t handle alone. Nami saving Sanji, Sanji saving Usopp, Usopp saving Robin. Hell, Robin not trusting her friends to keep her safe from the World Government is what kicked off this mess in the first place. The whole reason Luffy was so adamant about going against Lucci was because he recognized him as the strongest threat to the crew, and it’s Luffy’s job as the captain to protect those under his leadership from that kind of danger.
But right now he can’t. He’s not strong enough. And it’s not until Usopp threatens to put himself in harm’s way against an enemy they both know he has no chance about that he stands up and finishes the fight. Because even the captain needs to be propped up by his crew once in a while, and Luffy would rather die than have one of his crew get killed.
Do you remember now the fight started between Usopp and Luffy in the first place? Usopp argued, using the Merry as a proxy for his feelings, that Luffy would leave behind and abandon the weakest members of his crew to further his own ambition, and here, now, Luffy is showing in a very real way that that’s not true. But even if Luffy is willing to put his life on the line to protect Usopp from people like Lucci, he still needs Usopp’s help. He still needed those words from his best friend in order to stand up one last time.
#opbackgrounds#one piece#ch427#usopp#monkey d luffy#themes threads and throughlines#the power of friendship#Oda's expression game is on point
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₊˚ෆ 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐀 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓, 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔? | lyney, neuvillette, wriothesely x gn!reader
ˋ°•*⁀➷ cw: established relationship, fluffity fluff !!
art by @/puna_822 on twitter, edited by me!
⤷ shh!! secret relationships with the fontaine men ₊˚ෆ
— Lyney will keep the secret well, of course. He’s a jack of all trades, and a little bit of misconception is nothing taxing for someone who can trick the eye with just a simple swipe of his hands.
…Though, his personality often brings much more to deal with behind the scenes. His every action is designed as a ruse, trying to draw any and every reaction from you - whether it be making you irritated as can be or practically burning from his smooth words. He’ll at the red on your face with a light smirk gracing his lips. “Embarrassed, now, are we? Mhm, best wipe it off your face though, lest anyone find out~”
Dealing with the magician was a headache. A delightful one, but painful nonetheless. He has a habit of saying whatever he wants, and it doesn’t help that he’s so good at it too. His tongue can twist poems out of thin air, or pickup lines at the drop of a hat. The number of times Lynette had glanced over at you with a concerned gaze was far more than you could count, and it would be only a matter of time before another carefully crafted sentence sent the entire mirage into collapse. The two of you had only decided to keep your relationship private in the first place due to work affairs. It’d just make things more frustrating if people were aware of the connection. In earlier weeks, you had tried to confront the man about the entire predicament, but he had only laughed it off with a shrug of his shoulders and a jesting beam.
“Oh, don’t tell me that the words I tell you every day still make you so flustered? Archons, you really are a hopeless romantic, aren’t you? Although, for you, I suppose I’m no different…”
When Freminet had eventually voiced his worries, gently holding your hands and saying, “A-Are you okay? Your face is really red, are you sick? Should I walk y-you home?”, there was no other choice but to shake your head, cover your flushed cheeks as best you could with a hand, and tell a blatant lie that there was nothing out of the ordinary.
There most certainly was, and it was the cat-like man who stood off to the side, a sly smirk on his face and one of his eyes closed in a wink. Not helping, Lyney.
When would the day come for you to be the one to make him flustered? Perhaps it was sooner than you thought, on his opening night for the new season. You weren’t sure if he had expected to see you in the crowd, but as he was performing his wonderous tricks, eyes sweeping over the hundreds present, his shimmering lilac eyes locked onto yours. His professional smile stretched a little wider, and as he pulled a dove out of his hat with a flourish of his arms, beamed. The astonished look on your face was something he’d be sure not to forget.
As soon as the lights dim onstage, he hurries off of it, giving Lynette a quick farewell and combing back his unruly hair with his fingers. He spots you standing by the exit, holding… a bouquet of roses in your arms? They were a beautiful sight, yet paled in comparison to how ethereal you looked in the moment, the spotlights afar illuminating your face with a glow and your eyes sparkling with delight. This always happens when the two of you are alone - he’ll switch from verbal affection to physical, and this time is no exception. He sweeps you into his arms, slotting his lips against yours as he pulls you into a deep kiss that leaves you breathless and red. However, this time, the blush dusting your cheeks is not only on your face but his, as he takes the flowers in his arms with a bright smile.
“For me, love? Come now, I can’t possibly keep how good we are together from everyone else, can I?” ₊˚ෆ
— Neuvillette is… an interesting case. For starters, he’s baffled at the concept of keeping the relationship a secret. Elaborate that you don’t want to ruin his reputation as a perfect, just, and stone-cold judge, and he’ll oblige… reluctantly. He still doesn’t understand - just why can’t he show you how much he loves you in public?
For now, he’ll have to chalk it up as more human affairs that he’s deemed too complicated to figure out. Ground rules have been laid out - no mentioning the relationship, no telling anyone either… not even the melusines, which was a fair case, since they’d be sure to spread the news faster than wildfire. The mortal realm is far more puzzling than it seems, he concludes somberly. An unfamiliar world that was arduous to coexist in. It’ll be alright, though, as long as he can intertwine his fingers with yours and look into your eyes and-
“N- Sir Neuvillette… not here!” You chide quietly, slowly withdrawing your hand from his. His face falls into an instant, brows furrowing. He’ll bite his tongue, for your sake, and remain silent, yet his fingers twitch. Archons, his hands feel so much better when they’re in yours. The man watches with dejected eyes as you whip your head around anxiously, before gesturing for Neuvillette to bend down. He complies, and matches himself to your height, yet immediately pauses any motion as soon as he feels your lips brush against his forehead. You brush a stray lock of his behind his reddened ears, a grin curving on your lips.
“Don’t be too disappointed, okay? I don’t want it to rain on my way back home~” You beam slyly as you lean away, witnessing Neuvillette’s expression undergo several stages - downcast, shocked, flustered… and then a small smile graces his expression.
“I’ll see you when I get home. Don’t wait up for me. The case might run late.” Neuvillette chuckles to himself, straightening his posture as he softly pinches your cheek, laughing at the way you begin to pout. It’s something the melusines told him to do, and he’s glad he listened - your face is soft, and he has to hold himself back from kissing you. He can hear people around the corner, their voices growing closer. “Get home safe.”
“Love?” Whenever the dragon enters home, he’ll call you by the name he’s unable to call you anywhere else - something he loathes with a burning sensation in his chest. “Are you…” His voice fades as he sees you curled up on the couch, eyes closed and chest slowly rising and falling with every breath. Had you tried to stay up for him? Cute. He takes you in his arms and brings you to the bedroom, carefully arranging the pillows and blankets around your sleeping form. You stir in your state, lids slowly fluttering open as you stare at the man above you with drowsy eyes.
“Neuvi?” The use of his nickname makes his heart flutter. It’s utterly incomparable to what you call him at work, “Sir Neuvillette.” Too rigid. You giggle at the sight of him, still half-asleep, and cup his face in your hands. “Welcome home… did I fall asleep? Ah, I’m sorry, I guess I was too tired…?”
The smile on his face won’t leave.
Yes, moments like these allowed him to continue this strange human practice.
He places his hands on yours, reveling in your warmth.
“Sleep, love.” ₊˚ෆ
— Wriothesley’s used to being professional. If he wasn’t, his work would be a lifetime more demanding than it was at the moment - although, perhaps even that’d be easier than keeping himself away from you until watchful eyes are no longer present.
He’s touchy whenever he’s with you. He likes leaning into your figure, even if you’re shorter than him, just to take in the way you embrace him back, but he loves the feeling of your fingers with his even more. It makes him feel… giddy, light, like he could drift away with the slightest breeze.
And that’s an issue. In order for you to remain safe, he’ll have to stay hushed about you being his lover. He’s made enemies, that much is natural. Of course, he’ll comply with your wishes to keep the relationship private. You could tell him to eat dirt and he’d do just that. Things like that are second nature now. Before, he had no trouble lasting weeks, or months in the Fortress of Meropide at once. After all, there was no driving incentive to head back to the city of Fontaine other than greeting the melusines, dropping off official papers, or, his guilty pleasure, ordering bags upon bags of tea from the mainland, so that he’d have more than enough to drink at the fortress. Now that you were here, however, how could he possibly stay away longer than a few days? If your hands in his were what made him float away, your smile brought him back, with a racing heart in his chest and a smile spread across his features. He’d give the world to see your smile, since it was his world. A single laugh from you would cause the background to fade to white, and rouse his heart and face into a flustered mess.
The prisoners notice a difference. Of course, they don’t know who this mysterious person the duke is seeing, but all they know is that they’re certainly working wonders. On miraculous, wondrous days, they'll even catch a glimpse of a smile on his face while he’s sitting at his desk, sifting through paperwork. As time passes, the news only grows more widespread, eventually reaching the ears of the ludex himself. It’s true, there is an apparent change - one that he captures on the duke’s more frequent visits to land. For a while, fables and tales of Wriothelsey’s mysterious lover spread throughout the city from ear to ear in hushed, excited whispers.
He’ll tease you about it, of course, but he’s really just rather intrigued. Has he really changed that much after meeting you? He doesn’t think so, but he wouldn’t put it past himself. “Darling, darling…” He repeats your petname when you don’t immediately react. “Darling, c’mon…” He can feel the pout creeping on his lips.
“Impatient, are we, Wrio?” You sigh as you turn away from your work, and his icy eyes light up in an instant. You stroke your hand through his hair gently, carding your fingers through the soft, dark strands, and you can see the way Wriothelsey simply melts under your touch. “You’ve been seeking me quite often these days, haven’t you?”
Maybe he has changed. Staring up at you with half-lidded eyes and a smile playing on his lips, feeling his ears warm, perhaps that conjecture has been solidified as the truth.
“Is it so wrong to wish for you, darling?”
(a/n) ngl i kinda hate this fanfic. everything about it. everyone seems so ooc and the prompt is barely even mentioned ew ew ew not my best work by far please dont tell me writers block is coming back i hate that big bad scary thing
໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife
#★ ˎˊ˗ mondaymelon#astronetwrk#favoniuslibrary#lyney genshin#lyney x reader#lyney#wriothesley#wriothesley x reader#neuvillette#neuvillete x reader#genshin impact#genshin fanfic#genshin imagines#genshin headcanons#genshin x reader#genshin x you#genshin oneshots#genshin fluff#wriothesley genshin#neuvilette genshin#neuvillette x reader#genshin impact x reader#x reader#reader insert#genshin drabbles#x gn reader#genshin x gn reader#genshin fanfiction#lyney x you#wriothesley x you
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Repent.
✩ Tom Riddle x F! Reader
Summary: The one where Tom is confronted by the golden girl of Hogwarts, and he confronts a rather ugly truth. Hatred and desire are very similar things, and Tom can’t tell which one he feels. Alternatively: As Hosier once said “The only Heaven i’ll be sent to, is when i’m alone with you.”
A/N: GRRR WOOF WOOF WOOF
Maybe smut in p2 if people want it?
Songs: Talk - Hozier
The elder Riddle boy found it ridiculous to think he’d be standing here, promoting the very school he had subjected to many terrors, schmoozing with the same snobby, stuck-up wizards and witches for hours on end. His mouth ached from being held in a permanent welcoming smile, and the corners of his lips turned upwards in an uncharacteristic manner.
The role of Head Boy came with countless benefits. For one, he was adored and respected by many, something that was absolutely vital to Tom. Similarly, it also helped preserve his image greatly. No one would question Tom if he was roaming the halls late at night, for he was simply upholding his duties. It became an excellent cover for his now frequent trips to the restricted section of the Library.
There were other less beneficial but still preferable upsides. He got his own room, as the Head boy and the Head girl got their own private quarters. He could be excused from meaningless activities such as the mandatory health education days, if he convinced Headmaster Dippet that his time would be better spent elsewhere. Truthfully, there weren't many negatives to being Head Boy.
Having to spend his valuable holiday time dressed in a rather suffocating suit, promoting Hogwarts as one of the best schools to new prospective parents, was not a part of his role that Tom enjoyed. But if this is the small inconvenience he would have to put up with twice in his one year as Head student, then so be it.
There was, of course, you. That was perhaps the worst part of the job. Having to work alongside you. Tom loathed you, more than he did the average person.
You pranced into the school, having only joined in the 6th year. Within a week of your arrival, the teachers could not stop raving about the prodigy that they had the pleasure of teaching. Your hand shot up before Tom’s, and your marks were almost always higher by 1 damned percent. It wasn’t just enough that you had stolen Tom’s spotlight, no, you made sure you were front and centre in every field. Tom excelled in academics, you excelled in everything. From sports to extracurriculars, no one stood a chance if you were there.
But perhaps what infuriated Tom the most, was that you were nice. People adored you, and you naturally managed to captivate everyone with a sort of charisma that had teachers and students alike stumbling over one another for the chance to speak with you. You had it all, with absolutely no flaws.
Tom didn’t have a valid reason to hate you. With the others, he could attribute his hatred to their foolishness, their stupidity, or their overall incompetence. But you? There was nothing. It was irrational to hate you - the golden girl of Hogwarts, and that was what infuriated him more. It betrayed every rule he held himself to; he always had to be logical and meticulous.
Tom seethed inwardly as he watched you effortlessly charm yet another set of parents, your smile radiant and your words smooth as silk. He couldn't deny your talent or your intelligence, but it grated on him nonetheless. You were a constant reminder of everything he wanted to be but couldn't quite attain.
It wasn't just the fact that you outshone him in every aspect; it was the way you did it with such ease, as if it were effortless for you to excel in every endeavour. Meanwhile, Tom had to meticulously plan and scheme for every bit of recognition he received, always calculating his next move to stay ahead.
His eyes rake down your form, taking in the deep red dress that you wore. No doubt the finest silk draped over your body, a sort of blood red that caught under the dim lights of the chandeliers. Drawing the eye and commanding attention wherever you went, the fabric flowed gracefully around your figure, accentuating your curves in all the right places without revealing too much.
You were undeniably stunning, yet another thing to add to a list of your perfections. You handled the disgustingly leering eyes of the elder Wizards, who came to talk to you, with grace.
A damned Gryffindor too, as though your very presence wasn’t offensive enough.
Gods, he hated you. He really did. Your mere presence was enough to set him on edge, a fire burning through his veins that could never seem to be quenched no matter how hard he tried. He runs a hand through his lightly gelled hair, walking over to the far side of the Great Hall. With the rest of the attendees being otherwise engaged in conversation, he grabs a glass of champagne, knuckles white as he grips the delicate glass stem and drains it in one go. He sets the glass back down and sighs before plastering a fake smile on his face, manoeuvring through the crowd.
As Headmaster Dippet ascended the small stage at the front of the great hall, a hush fell over the crowd. He cleared his throat, adjusting his spectacles before addressing the gathered guests.
"Good evening, esteemed colleagues, parents, and students," he began, his voice carrying easily across the room. "I would like to extend a warm welcome to each and every one of you to our annual open evening here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
The assembled guests murmured their acknowledgements, and Headmaster Dippet continued, his tone warm and welcoming.
"We are delighted to have the opportunity to showcase the many wonders of our esteemed institution to you all," he said, gesturing expansively to the grand surroundings of the great hall. "From our esteemed faculty to our talented students, Hogwarts prides itself on providing a world-class education in the magical arts."
A ripple of polite applause echoed through the hall, and Headmaster Dippet smiled warmly before continuing.
"I would like to take this opportunity to express my deepest gratitude to all of our dedicated staff and volunteers who have worked tirelessly to make this evening possible," he said, his gaze sweeping over the assembled crowd. "Their commitment and dedication to our beloved school are truly commendable, and we owe them a debt of gratitude for their efforts."
Another round of applause filled the air, and Headmaster Dippet nodded in appreciation before raising his hand for silence once more.
"And now, my dear guests, I invite you to partake in the festivities," he said, his tone lighthearted. "Our talented orchestra awaits to serenade you with their delightful melodies, and I encourage you to take to the dance floor and enjoy the evening's entertainment to the fullest."
With a final smile and a gracious bow, Headmaster Dippet stepped down from the stage, leaving the guests to mingle and enjoy the rest of the evening's festivities.
You look over at Tom and find he’s already looking at you, a shift in his gaze when you lock eyes with him. You see him sigh, and motion to the large area of floor which had been dedicated to dancing. The very face of the school, the two of you step up, and dark green clashes with deep red, the serpent and the lion front and centre. Your hand finds his, cold and unwelcoming, and his other comes down to rest on your waist, fingers brushing against silk.
The melodic hum of the violins echo through the hall, watchful eyes on the two of you. Your steps were hesitant at first. Gradually, as you found your footing, your movements became more fluid, if not entirely harmonious.
“Smile, Riddle. At least make it seem like you’re happy to be here.” You mutter lowly, only for his ears. He clenches his jaw, but ultimately he knows you are, as always, right. A small smile graces his lips, looking down at you as he speaks harshly under his breath.
“I’m not happy to be here.” He snaps, and a smirk tugs at your lips as the two of you continue dancing, harshly whispering to one another.
Tom's eyes bore into yours with a fierce intensity, his jaw clenched in barely restrained anger. Yet, despite the tension that simmered between you, you refused to back down, meeting his gaze with a lazy smirk of your own.
"Is that so, Riddle?" you retorted, your voice barely above a whisper but laced with undeniable challenge. "Because it seems to me like you're doing a splendid job of pretending." You quip sarcastically.
His grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into the fabric of your dress with a forceful urgency that sent a shiver down your spine.
Tom's lips curled into a sneer, his voice dripping with venom as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "You think you're so clever, don't you?" he hissed, each word punctuated by a sharp edge of contempt. "But you can't hide your true nature forever, no matter how hard you try. I'm just waiting for the day that perfect facade of yours crumbles.”
Your smirk only widened at his words, a glint of amusement dancing in your eyes as you leaned back slightly, meeting his intense gaze with a challenging one of your own.
"Ah, but dear Tom," you countered, your voice silky smooth despite the tension crackling between you. "I don't need to hide anything. Unlike some people, I don't have dark secrets."
"And what exactly do you mean by that?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear.
You simply chuckled, a sound filled with smug satisfaction as you leaned in to whisper your reply. "Oh, I think you know exactly what I mean, Riddle," you murmured, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "After all, it's not like your plans are a well-kept secret."
For a split second, Tom froze, his eyes widening in surprise before a mask of cold indifference settled over his features. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he snapped, his tone icy as he pulled away from you, his grip on your waist loosening slightly.
“Oh of course not. I’m all the more intrigued to see how it will all play out.” You hum, an infuriatingly smug grin on your face as you look up at him, as bold and blunt as you've ever been.
Tom must admit he’s somewhat suprised. You seemed so demure and polite, he had never expected such directness from yourself.
The song comes to a close, everyone applauding as you meet Tom’s stare head-on, refusing to break away. You go to walk away when his hand wraps around your waist, pulling you back into him with terrifying force as the orchestra begins playing once more, with everyone else joining in.
The sudden tug at your waist caught you off guard, your breath hitching as you found yourself pulled back into Tom. His grip was firm, almost possessive.
"What do you think you're doing, Riddle?" you demanded, your voice tinged with a hint of apprehension as you struggled against his hold.
But Tom's expression remained impassive, his eyes boring into yours with a steely resolve that sent a chill down your spine. "Dancing," he replied curtly, his tone clipped as he held you close, his grip tightening ever so slightly.
He leans in closer, breath fanning against your ear as he speaks.
"You do realize you're playing with fire, don't you?" he murmurs, his voice laced with a dangerous edge.
“I’m not afraid of being burned.” You remark back quickly, meeting his frustrated gaze with a teasing one of your own.
Tom's lips quirked into a sardonic smile at your response, a flash of something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "Perhaps you should be," he murmured, his voice low and tinged with a warning tone.
You let go of Tom as the music comes to a close and he doesn't immediately pull you back. You look at him for a second more before tearing your gaze away and disappearing into the crowd.
Silly, silly girl.
Tom pursues straight after you, murmuring half-assed apologies to the couples he shoves past. The serpent slithers through the crowd, far in over his head, desperate for a glimpse of that red.
As Tom finally catches sight of you weaving through the throngs of people, his frustration mounts, fueled by the relentless desire to confront you. Without a second thought, he pushes past the last couple blocking his path and quickens his pace, determination etched into every line of his face.
"[Name]!" he calls out, his voice cutting through the din of the crowd. But you don't stop, your figure disappearing around a corner just ahead.
Refusing to be thwarted, Tom breaks into a sprint, his heart pounding in his chest as he closes the distance between you. Finally reaching the corner, he turns sharply, only to find you standing just a few feet away, your back pressed against the cold stone wall of the corridor.
A smirk plays at the corners of your lips as you watch him approach. "What's the matter, Riddle?" you taunt, your voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Can't keep up?"
Tom's jaw clenches, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface as he comes to a stop in front of you.
"You think you're clever, don't you?" he growls, his voice low and dangerous.
You tilt your head to the side, a mocking smile playing on your lips. "I don't have to think, Riddle," you reply, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "I know."
A flicker of annoyance flashes across Tom's features, but he quickly masks it with a cold indifference. "You may be clever, but you're also reckless," he retorts, his voice icy as he takes a step closer, crowding your space.
"And you're one to talk," you shoot back, your voice laced with a challenge.
Without warning, Tom closes the distance between you, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist with a forceful grip.
Before you can react, he's dragging you down the corridor, his steps purposeful as he leads you to the nearest empty classroom. You stumble along beside him, caught off guard by his sudden aggression.
He shoves open the door, pulling you inside with him as your eyes adjust to the dim lighting, fumbling around for a desk as Tom slams the door shut, He turns to you, breathing heavily as he takes a step forward, forcing you to back up into the desk behind you.
“What do you know.” He utters, voice low as he clenches his jaw.
"I know enough," you reply evenly, meeting his intense gaze with unwavering defiance. "I know that you're not as invincible as you think you are. Though you’re certainly trying to get to that point."
A flicker of anger flashes across Tom's features, his eyes narrowing as he takes another step closer, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between you. "You know nothing," he retorts sharply, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation.
You should feel ashamed, you should avert your eyes, but you cannot help but feel thrilled at the sight of Tom so angry, a familiar flutter in your stomach as he looks away, his jaw clenched.
The corner of your lips turn upwards into a provocative grin, tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip.
Tom lets his gaze stray downwards for one second and he knows he’s fucked.
Completely and utterly done for. He’s fallen for the most stupidly infuriating, brainless, primal emotion of them all. Tom Riddle, who is smart, manipulative, and cunning, has lost his cool because of lust.
How utterly pathetic.
The realization hits him like a punch to the gut, leaving him reeling with a mixture of disgust and arousal. He hates you, despises every fibre of your being, and yet, that only seems to fuel the fire burning inside him.
You remain silent, observing him carefully as you are not privy to his innermost thoughts.
For a moment, there's a palpable silence between you, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily in the air. And then, without warning, Tom's hand shoots out, grabbing your chin with a bruising grip as he forces you to meet his gaze.
"You don't know anything," he hisses, his voice low and dangerous.
You don't have the time to even think of a response because Tom’s lips are crashing onto yours, replacing every single thought in your head with him and him only.
It's more angry than it is anything else, mouths clashing against one another in a punishing kiss. His grip on your jaw is bruising, a stray hand coming down to rest against the curve of your thigh and push you up so you're sitting on the desk.
He kisses you with fervour, as though he’s trying to steal the oxygen from your lungs and snuff the life out of those damn eyes.
You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer as you meet his kiss with fervour, your lips moving against his with a desperate need that borders on reckless abandon.
“Tom,” You murmur, a gasped plea as your nails dig into his bicep. He pays it no mind, lips coming down to press open-mouthed kisses to your throat.
It's maddening, the way you've managed to unravel him with just a glance, a touch, leaving him stripped bare and vulnerable in your presence.
But even as he loses himself in the heat of the moment, a nagging voice in the back of his mind reminds him of the danger you represent. You know things, dangerous things, secrets that could unravel everything he's worked so hard to achieve. And yet, in this moment, none of it matters.
His rationale and will is eroded to nothing, consumed by the need to possess you fully.
Your hand wraps around his tie, tugging him slightly as you lean back, breaking the kiss. You gaze down at him, green tie wrapped tightly around your hand, and Tom wants to groan at the interruption, though he refuses to give you the satisfaction of doing so.
“Lust is a sin, you know?” You hum, lips slightly swollen and red as you keep Tom in place, a smirk tugging at your lips.
Tom didn’t care. He wasn’t religious. He didn’t believe in God. Tom didn't care about the concept of heaven and hell either. If being with you meant risking damnation, he was more than willing to take that chance.
“So is Lying. Greed. Hatred. Jealousy.” You list, tugging at Tom's tie with each word, pulling him lower and lower until he’s the one looking up at you. You lean back on your palms, crossing your legs as you narrow your eyes.
“Quite the sinner, aren’t you?” You hum, your voice laced with amusement.
Tom is done for, looking up at you with his mind filled with nothing but a visceral need for you.
“Perhaps.” He mutters, his voice strained.
He reaches out for you but you tut, placing a heel on his shoulder as you forcefully push him down, forcing him onto his knees in front of you with his tie still grasped firmly in your hand. The action causes your dress to slip slightly where the slit occurs in the side, revealing a glimpse of your skin so close to Tom’s face that he can’t tear his eyes off of it. A devious grin graces your face, tilting your head as you pull your plush lip between your teeth.
“Do you believe I won’t get into heaven?” Tom murmurs, stupidly playing into this game of yours as he looks up at you.
You laugh, low and mocking as you look down at him.
“Oh Tom, at the rate you’re going at I’ll be the closest you ever get to paradise.”
Tom may have been strong, but he was only human, and mankind was prone to crumble in the face of temptation.
“What do you suggest I do then?” He growls, his voice a low rumble filled with frustration and desire. You smirk down at him, relishing in the power you hold over him, knowing that you've managed to unravel the facade of control he presents to the world. With a flick of your wrist, you release his tie from your grasp, allowing it to fall limply against his chest.
Your heel remains as it is, pressing down firmly on his shoulder to ensure he remains in the same position as you speak, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Repent.”
Repentance is not something he's accustomed to, nor is it something he's ever considered. But in this moment, with you holding all the cards, he finds himself willing to entertain the notion, if only to appease the insatiable hunger gnawing at his soul.
@schaebickel @mildlyuninformative @gillyweeds @anti-hero03 @lillywildly @multifandom-worlds
#slytherin#slytherin boys#tom riddle#harry potter#draco malfoy#lorenzo berkshire#slytherin boys fic#theodore nott#blaise zabini#pansy parkinson#tom riddle x you#tom riddle x y/n#tom riddle x reader#tom riddle fic
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drunk in love
a late night talking extra 💓
summary: harry invites y/n to a party celebrating his upcoming final LOT show
warnings: very light smut (pretty much just touchy feely, male masturbation), alcohol use
wordcount: 4.1k
a/n: i want this to be me ? if i could have any harry, i want this one 😭 can’t believe it’s nearly a month since i last posted!!! sorry!!
you can find my masterlist here! happy reading 🫶🏼💖
“Harry, seriously!” You were swatting his hands away for what felt like the thousandth time that evening.
“Please. Missed you,” he pouted, opting to wrap his arms around your waist instead.
“I know baby, missed you too. But walking into the party late and together is hardly keeping it on the down low.”
It was Harry’s idea to keep it quiet tonight, for you to be by his side as a friend of Gemma’s and nothing more. His nearest and dearest had flown to Italy to celebrate the end of Love on Tour, and while he knew he could trust the majority of the guests, there were sure to be people who’d sell photos for a quick buck. You were happy to keep your privacy a little longer, but truthfully, you were itching to shout from the rooftops. It had only been a month since you’d met Harry, and you hadn’t even seen him for 3 weeks of that month. But it was the best month of your life.
“Don’t wanna keep it on the down low,” he groaned, throwing his head down into the crook of your neck. “You do, and you’ll thank yourself for it.”
His green eyes were peeking at you through the mirror, hungry and desperate for more of you. If it were any other occasion you’d be straight into bed with him, but you wanted so badly to make a good impression tonight. You were lucky to have Anne and Gemma on your side already, the pair of them taking to you so well that Harry even ended up setting up a group chat for the four of you to keep in touch while he was away. A mother’s judgement was quick and usually correct, and Harry had made it explicitly clear to you that she totally adored you. You were normal, she said. But still, meeting the remainder of Harry’s closest business partners, friends and family was downright terrifying to you.
“Would help with your nerves.”
“Harry, we have to be there in half an hour. You’re not even dressed.”
“Don’t have to get dressed if I’m jus’ going to get undressed.”
“Go next door and get dressed. Or let go of me so I can,” you laughed, turning around to press a kiss to his forehead.
He trailed away silently, feet scuffing on the carpet before he threw himself down on the bed. Always one for the dramatics. “At least let me see what you’re wearing before I go.”
You padded across the hotel room, pulling a metallic gold maxi dress from the wardrobe. You’d worried it would be too much, far too attention grabbing at a party where you wanted to stay out of the spotlight. But Gemma and Joanie had convinced you, and now that you held it up towards the window, you could finally see their vision.
The slowly setting sun was beautiful, gold and pink tones washing across the sky. You’d never been to Italy before, and suddenly it was your favourite place to be. The Mediterranean was good to Harry, the tan he’d picked up since you saw him last now rich and deep. He was glowing so brightly that you swore he could literally illuminate a dark room. Even the tiny beads of sweat on his chest sparkled like diamonds. He was delicious, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him for too long. The way his eyes were fixed on you, likely imagining himself doing filthy things to you in that dress, made you weak at the knees. You had, what, 5 or so minutes until Gemma came to collect you? Plenty could be done in that time. But as soon as the idea popped into your head, Gemma’s voice came from the other side of the door.
“Get out Harry,” she called. He groaned as he heard her, running a frustrated hand through his messy curls. “You’ll look beautiful, always do,” Harry told you, pressing a kiss on your lips as he moped over to the door. He said a quick hello to Gemma before leaving, knowing that if he lingered around you for any longer, he’d never make it to his own celebration.
“What’s up with him?” Gemma laughed, pointing behind her as the heavy door swung shut. “Needy,” you told her, amusement tugging at the corners of your mouth. “I told you he still throws a tantrum! You think he’s all grown up on the surface, but there’s a stroppy little boy in there still.”
You pulled her in for a hug, grateful to have her by your side. “I’m really nervous,” you confessed, sinking down onto the edge of the bed. “I don’t know who Harry’s told what to, don’t want to slip up and ruin it for either of us.” You pulled your bottom lip into your mouth, the weight of your nerves finally crashing down on you. You hadn’t wanted to show Harry how anxious you were, knowing that he’d never leave your side if he knew.
“You poor thing,” Gemma smiled, placing a protective hand on your arm as she joined you on the soft bed. “I’ll be by your side as long as you want me to be. Some of Mum’s friends are coming too, so if you need a break from the crazy, they’ll be happy to look after you. Proper British mums.”
—
The venue was potentially one of the most beautiful places you’d ever seen. A rooftop bar with floor to ceiling windows leading out onto a patio, the evening sun casting a warm orange glow over every inch of the crowded room. You didn’t think you could ever get over the views from this high up, even stores and corner shops looked beautiful. In the few hours since you’d arrived in Italy, it had totally captured your heart. You could see why Harry chose here for his final show.
“Ready?” Gemma asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.
“Ready,” you smiled, taking a deep breath as you followed her through the double doors.
There were so many people you recognised, some people you didn’t, and it was genuinely like walking into a weird fantasy. A month ago you were getting ready to see your favourite artist perform, now you were walking into a room of celebrities with his sister by your side. It didn’t matter how many times you went through it in your head, how many times you looked through your pictures with Harry, it never felt real.
Gemma took you to meet some of the band first, Sarah, Mitch and Pauli all huddled around a high table. They greeted Gemma warmly, but when Sarah’s eyes landed on you, she threw her arms around you with almost enough enthusiasm to knock you off your feet. “Y/n! You look incredible,” she grinned, squeezing you tightly. “She’s had one too many already,” Mitch muttered, nodding a gentle hello.
You stayed with them as Gemma went to get you both a drink, listening to their stories of touring and performing in different cities around the world, each tale filled with laughter and joy. Speaking to people who had known Harry on a deeper level for so many years made your heart soar, the same tenderness and care he showed you evident in the way his band mates spoke of him. Just as your eyes began to wander across the room to find him, Gemma returned with two glasses of Prosecco, handing one to you with a warm smile. “Got to keep moving, but we’ll be back,” she told the group, guiding you to some more of Harry’s friends.
—
From the other end of the bar, Harry’s eyes were fixed on you. He took a sip of his drink, his gaze never wavering as he watched you laugh with Sarah and Glenne. The way your eyes sparkled as you giggled, the tiny snorts that slipped out when something was truly funny. He was totally captivated by you. Harry couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming protectiveness, so desperately wishing he could’ve been the one to introduce you to his loved ones. He’d watched as you and Gemma made the rounds, shaking hands and exchanging hugs with his friends and colleagues. You’d mesmerised every single one of them, effortlessly commanding attention as if tonight was for you. He’d had no doubts about them liking you, seeing in you what he did, but there was still a little bit of pride bubbling away inside of him. You were his girl, and you were fitting into his life so perfectly. He may have been a little tipsy, his emotions a little heightened, but right there he realised he couldn’t imagine a life without you.
He started to make his way towards you, silently joining your group with a dorky grin plastered on his face. Your brows furrowed as you looked over at him, rocking on his heels slowly as he stared between the three of you. Sarah and Glenne could only laugh, taking his appearance as their cue to leave.
“Do I have something on my face?” you smirked once you were alone with Harry.
“Little bit of sexy right.. there,” he grinned, reaching out slowly to poke at your cheek. His playful grin widened as he leaned in closer, a tiny chuckle slipping past his lips. "Gonna need to wipe that off," Harry teased, his warm breath brushing over your skin.
“Is that so?”
“Absolutely. Can’t risk anyone else seeing that.” His finger lingered on your skin for a moment, tracing light patterns before he pulled away, replacing his gentle touch with soft kisses.
“Harry!” you scolded, trying to pull away from him before anyone noticed.
“No one’s looking,” he murmured against your skin, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you closer. His lips wrapped around your earlobe, his teeth grazing the skin as he sucked tenderly.
“Let’s leave, come home with me,” Harry groaned, his voice husky. His hand was splayed against the curve of your ass, his bulge starting to stiffen against your core. Being so close to him for the first time that evening felt like heaven, but you were far too conscious of the amount of people around you. Still, you instinctively turned your head, giving him access to kiss along your neck.
“This is your party, H,” you reminded him, familiar butterflies taking flight within your core as his tongue flicked against your skin. As much as you wanted to give in to Harry, you couldn’t be responsible for taking him away from his own celebration, so many people here for him.
But each movement of his tongue tightened the knot in your core, your walls aching for his touch. His voice, muffled against your skin, whispered, “I know, love. But y’look so fuckin’ good.“
You let out a soft moan as his lips trailed higher, his teeth grazing lightly along your jawline. The pleasure was almost agonising, you couldn’t help arching your back, craving more of his touch. The warmth of his breath against your skin sent shivers down your spine, the strong scent of spirits mixed with his aftershave, almost enough to put you in a trance.
Harry’s voice was filled with desire, continuing to coax you into surrendering to him. “Can’t help myself, princess. Not when y’look like that,” he murmured, your breath hitching as his lips finally found your mouth, his movements soft yet desperate. His tongue danced around yours, exploring every corner of your mouth as though trying to memorise each taste and sensation.
You gripped onto his shoulders, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, desperately trying to ground yourself. “I want you,” Harry panted as he pulled away, his lips swollen and breath ragged.
You were totally lost in him, your chest heaving as Harry stared deep into your eyes, searching for any sign that he’d convinced you enough.
“That is quite enough of that.” A voice came from behind you, startling you both out of your moment of serenity. You jumped away from Harry to see Anne giving you both the once-over, a hint of amusement dancing across her face. “You,” she pointed at Harry, “keep your tongue where it belongs. You,” she was grabbing a hold of your forearm, “with me.”
You could feel a blush creeping up your cheeks as Anne whisked you away, consumed by the long forgotten teenage embarrassment of being caught kissing by a parent. “Sorry,” you cringed, unable to meet her eyes. “It’s only a little kiss, love. I just wanted to help you escape him before anyone else saw,” Anne smiled.
“Oh,” you giggled, relief washing over you. With all the sneaking around, you sometimes had to remind yourself that you weren’t actually a disobedient teenager, waiting to be caught after sneaking a boy into your room.
Anne took you to meet her friends properly, the women she referred to as Harry’s other mums. They were exactly as Gemma had described, the exact same personality that your mum had, the stereotypical welcoming British mum. They told you countless stories of a younger Harry - the cheeky little boy who was always trying to make everyone laugh, to the teenager who took every opportunity to sing in his bedroom. It was always weird to you, knowing so much already about someone who was still new to you. Thankfully, everyone in Harry’s life seemed to accept that you’d been a (deranged) fan of his before you started dating. As he’d told you many times, it would be borderline impossible to date someone who had no idea who he was. Unless he dated babies or old ladies, and he’d been very clear that he didn’t fancy dating either of them.
“How did you two meet?” one of Anne’s friends had asked. It may have only been a month ago, but this was already your favourite story to tell. “In a Starbucks,” you confessed, cheeks tinged pink at the memory. “I was actually seeing him at Wembley, and we just happened to be in Starbucks at the same time. He asked me for a napkin and,” you shrugged, “we just hit it off from there.” Even the world’s strongest man couldn’t wipe the grin off your face at that moment. You loved to talk about your meet-cute, the way your heart caught in your throat at the sight of Harry’s rings, the way you ended up basically living with him for a week from that moment onwards. And yet, you couldn’t focus fully, still heated from your moment with Harry earlier.
His touch still lingered on your skin, warm tingles spreading across your waist where he’d pulled you into him. Anne’s friend grinned back at you, your feelings for Harry evident in the way you spoke about him. “Sounds like fate,” she told you, rubbing a hand on Anne’s thigh. “Your little boy all grown up and in love,” she laughed.
You nodded, unable to hide the sparkle in your eyes as you thought about Harry. It really did feel like fate had bought you here, a higher power intervening to lead you to him. As the conversation continued, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Harry across the room. He was dancing with Jeff, and an unexpected guest - at least for you - James Corden. You knew they were friends, you’d watched Harry’s carpool karaoke and every other late late show segment an embarrassing number of times. But to see him here, genuinely friends with Harry was so bizarre to you. You’d never seen him drunk before, and it wasn’t too different from a puppy with the zoomies. His feet moving too fast for his body, his drink sloshing around the glass as he threw his arms around anyone who caught his eye. He just radiated pure happiness, the very definition of a golden retriever boyfriend.
Harry’s eyes met yours as you watched him, the green of his irises darkening the longer his gaze rested on you. You blew him a kiss, laughing as he mimed catching it and pressing it to his lips. It was insane how someone so sexually driven could be so fucking cute. If you met him for the very first time while he was being sweet, you’d never expect what he could do to you in bed. And if you met him for the very first time in bed, you’d never expect how loving he could be. And now you were thinking of him in bed and getting yourself all worked up again.
“I’m just going to nip to the toilet,” you told Anne, signalling your head towards the corner of the room. You purposely walked behind Harry, trailing a light hand across his lower back to grab his attention, sauntering away without a glance back. You didn’t have to look to know he’d be following you. He caught up to you as you reached the entrance of the toilets, grabbing a hold of your hips with his bulge pressed firmly against your lower back.
“Didn’t think you could get away without me, did you?” he slurred against your ear, guiding you towards the cubicle at the end of the corridor. “Harry, babe, I got your attention so that you’d follow me.”
He laughed, locking the door behind him as one hand trailed up your torso. “Knew you couldn’t resist me,” he smirked, eyes landing on your tits as you turned to face him.
“Was doing fine until you played dirty,” you told him, tangling a hand in the curls at the nape of his neck. He pulled you close to him, his mouth lingering dangerously close to yours. All he could think about was ruining you, having you begging for mercy as he shot streams of his hot cum into you, finally fucking something other than his fist. But he couldn’t do any of that here, couldn’t fuck you the way he needed to in a bathroom stall. “I like playing dirty,” he whispered, crashing his lips against yours. He walked you backwards, hands moving to unzip your dress as his tongue danced around your mouth.
He pulled away to help you out of your dress, his cock twitching as you stepped out of it, left in only your tiny thong and heels. “Fucking hell,” Harry groaned, one hand tracing the curve of your waist as he looked you up and down. Your lips were swollen from his kiss, eyes hazy as you watched him undo his trousers. The second his cock sprung out of his pants you reached for it, desperate to feel it again after so long. Harry grabbed your hand, tangling his fingers in yours, denying you a touch. “Can’t fuck you the way I want to here,” he whispered. “Just need you to stand there and look pretty f’me.”
You nodded, swallowing thickly as he began to stroke his cock. You needed to come, but you didn’t want to spoil your appetite for him. So if Harry needed you to stand and watch him, a starter before your well-earned main course, you were more than happy to. “So fuckin’ beautiful,” he groaned, gripping onto your hip with his free hand. He knew he wasn’t going to last long, he never did with you involved, each stroke only making his core tighten more.
He looked fucking hot. His hair messy, sweat glistening on his neck as he stroked the sweet cock that you’d missed so dearly. Precum was gathering on his tip, his rings clashing together as he grunted and groaned, blown-out pupils fixed on your body. You couldn’t hold in the pants and moans that were forming in your throat, your core on fire as you watched Harry bring himself closer to his climax.
“Turn around,” he drawled, pushing your back down as his tip bumped against your ass, your eyes glued to him in the mirror. He pulled your thong to the side, pushing his fingers inside of your entrance. “Gonna- fuck-” he panted, no time to get you stretched out for his cock before his orgasm started to creep up on him. You shuffled your feet outwards, resting your elbows down on the countertop so he could enter you. He pushed into you quickly, the burn pulling a deep cry from inside of you. “Come, baby,” you pleaded, mouth locked open as your walls closed around him. Harry shot his cum into you, sighs of relief tumbling out of both of your mouths to finally feel your cores connected again, finally have his thick cum deep inside of you.
He stilled, rubbing his hands across your asscheeks, dizzy from the sensation of being deep in you.
The moment was quickly broken by someone banging on the door, and Harry jumped back, the sudden absence of his cock making you a little sad. “Occupied,” he called out, buttoning up his trousers before picking up your dress. “Bastards,” he smirked, bending down behind you to help you back into your clothes. He pressed a kiss to the bottom of your asscheek, moving your panties back over to cover your mound.
“Can’t leave together,” Harry said as his shaky hands did up your zip, still dazed from his orgasm.
“Go,” you told him, pressing a final kiss to his lips. “Need to touch up my makeup anyway.”
—
You could hear Harry’s voice booming over the music as you left the toilets, the rest of the party fallen silent. “Here she is!” he slurred as you came around the corner. Harry was standing on a table, a microphone in his hand as he addressed the crowd gathered in front of him. He reached out a beckoning finger to you, motioning for you to come over. You could hardly reject him in front of all of these eyes, let alone with that cheesy grin calling out to you. “This is Y/N, and f’anybody who doesn’t know, she’s my future wife,” he beamed as you got closer.
He giggled into the microphone, jumping down off of the table on unsteady legs. Harry’s audience clapped at his words, a few drunken cheers erupting. “Louder!” he demanded, “everyone cheer for Y/N!”
He had far too much power with a microphone in his hands, you thought to yourself as he wrapped an arm tight around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your temple. You knew you were blushing wildly, not at all used to being in the spotlight. You rested your head on his shoulder, hoping it would somehow obscure you from view. “Seriously,” Harry continued, his goofy grin not budging as he glanced down at you, “this woman is the joy of my life. And you’re all close seconds. Thank you f’coming out to celebrate me, the band and everyone who’s worked on this tour. Roll on Saturday!”
He dropped the microphone onto the table behind him, moving his hand to cup your cheek before pressing his lips to yours, harder this time. The rest of the party had started to disperse around the room again, but now it didn’t matter if anyone saw. You were kissing Harry, properly kissing him, in public, and there was very little that could bring you down from that high. As he pulled away, Harry sat back on the table, pulling you to stand between his legs. “M’ so proud of you,” you whispered, brushing your fingertips across his cheek. He was looking deep in your eyes, his stare laced with something deeper than the affection he’d shown you before. “I love y-”, he started, his words cut off when you slapped a hand over his mouth. “Nuh uh, not letting you say it when you’re drunk,” you laughed, snarling at him as he tried to pull your hand away. When he finally managed, he pinned your hands to your sides, turning you around in his arms until your back was flush with his chest.
“A drunken mind speaks sober thoughts,” he chuckled, peppering soft kisses down your shoulder. You could have exploded, physically exploded in that moment. “Harry,” you warned, unable to wipe the smile from your face. He pressed his lips close to your ear, his warm breath washing over the side of your face. “I love you,” he whispered, grinning at you as you craned your neck to face him. “I love you,” you replied, heart hammering against your ribcage as the words finally came out. “Can I take you home now?” Harry smirked, his fingers dancing across your waist. “Please,” you whispered, taking his hand in yours.
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#harry styles fluff#harry styles smut#harry styles x reader#harry edward styles#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfic#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x y/n#harry styles masterlist#harryslittlefreakk#late night talking#harry styles x fan
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DDLG with seungmin....sounds like a god send🥰🥴
“DDLG” K.S.
Forgive me for the late response to you, love. 🖤 and of course DDLG Seungmin is going to get a spotlight. It’s only fair. 🖤
[ MDNI ]
++++++++
Dom Seungmin is a silent hard Dom. He doesn’t impose verbal control often which leads to you relying on nonverbal communication. When he pats his lap, an empty space beside him, or a perfectly vacant spot near his feet on the floor you don’t hesitate to sit/kneel. No words needed. With a tap of his fingers under your chin Seungmin instructs you to open your mouth wide for him -readying you to suck on his fingers or wrap around his cock. Every action he imposes is a way to instill mindless submission in you. He takes pride in your obedience, rubbing the top of your head lovingly when you listen without having to be told, and you welcome the praise with a tender smile. “Good pup/kitten.”
Dom Seungmin thrives off reading your expressions, can tell when you’re slipping into subspace, and attends to you accordingly. You don’t have to say anything to get his attention because it’s already drifting towards you. What kind of owner doesn’t watch over his pet at all times?… Not him. That for certain.
Dom Seungmin prefers you wear a collar/choker as a sign of his ownership. Out in public you have a charm/tag attached to it with his name engraved on one side but in private a little bell takes it place. Seungmin thoroughly enjoys the soft jingles your collar/choker makes, signaling when you’re near him, or showing off what he knows to be his. He’ll hook a finger under the dainty jewelry, using it to pull you close for a kiss, or hold your gaze when he’s speaking to you. It’s an automatic reflex he can’t seem to shake and you don’t pull away when he does. He owns you. There’s no doubt about that and the smile on your face every-time he admires his brand around your neck makes him fall in love with you all over again.
Dom Seungmin will make you walk around with a vibrator nestled in your cunt all day. You’re not allowed to remove it, touch yourself, or come without his elicit permission. It’s pure torture, a literal hell on earth for you, and um pooling in your panties and inner thighs keeps you fidgeting for hours. You text and call him non stop after the fourth time he’s edged you, wanting to cry as you beg him to stop, or at least be merciful enough to let you come. Your attempts are in vain because Seungmin amps up the intensity of the toy just to hear you swallow desperate whines, and broken whimpers purely for his entertainment. All while mocking your lack of restraint and sulky behavior. “You’ll be fine, pup. Keep it in for a few more hours and I’ll help when you get home…” “Stop? But it sounds like you’re enjoying it, sweetheart..” “What was that? I should set it higher…?” “You’re so cute when you beg, little one.”
Dom Seungmin sends you borderline threatening texts if you’re out in public together and another person so much as looks your way a little too long for his liking. He gets jealous easily and isn’t afraid to show it either. Although, you find it funny to some degree, he’s completely serious about his warnings.
^
“Get away from him.”
“Come here. Now.”
“Stop fucking with my patience, Y/n.”
“I should fuck that smile right off your face. His joke won’t be funny then will it?…”
“Don’t look so scared now, pup. You obviously wanted my attention and now you have it…”
^
Dom Seungmin doesn’t mind that you call him ‘daddy’ or ‘sir’ casually. He’s listening to you either way and prefers you call him such things in private. The one time you did slip up and asked him a question while using his title in public the smuggest smirk was plastered on his face for the entire day. “Should I get the green tea or mocha twist, daddy- ah erm….I mean s-sir….fuck, I mean- Min stop looking at me like that!” You whine while glaring at him, face on fire with embarrassment, and your heart thundering so loud you couldn’t even hear what was going on around you two anymore. He shook his head, quieting his laughter as best as possible before squeezing your hand that was intertwined with his, “The green tea sounds better, pup…”
Dom Seungmin will make you rut against his foot as a punishment. He doesn’t care if you beg to ride his thigh instead or plead for a less strenuous and humiliating reprimand. Whatever you’ve done deserves no leniency and Seungmin isn’t the type to crumble so easily under the influence of round and tearful puppy eyes. Seeing you struggle, writhing around like a bitch in heat excites him more than you realize, and he’ll make you carry on like that until he’s satisfied with the mess you make of yourself. “M’ tired,” you huff through building tears, legs on fire with pain, and your panties soaked through completely, but he makes no move to help you. “Did I tell you to stop?” His voice is low, barely bouncing off the darkened walls surrounding you two, and a shiver runs down your spine as the depth in his tone becomes evident. “No…” you reply meekly, unconsciously rolling your hips to resume your task. Seungmin grins, petting your head appreciatively, and gingerly lifting the top of his boot to press harder on your quivering cunt. You whimper at the added pressure, letting tears fall as another climax curls in your tummy, “Sir…please…n-no more….i wanna rest!” The pitch of your voice rises as the hand in your hair twists and tugs at the strands roughly, forcing your head up to look him in the eyes as he responds in an unnervingly calm whisper, “Good puppies don’t talk back to their master. When you learn that maybe I’ll let you stop. Maybe…”
Dom Seungmin allocates aftercare through discreet gestures. Drawing a bath for you, stocking up on your favorite snacks/drinks so you can indulge in a treat after, and leaving his clothes out for you to wear are common examples. He’s capable of giving you words of affirmation but firmly believes acts of service speak much louder than words. Your obedience to him is matched perfectly with his ability to provide whatever you need/want. It’s a fair transaction of effort on both parts. Seungmin never asks more of you than necessary and you don’t except him to overdo his gratitude. A wholesome midnight walk to get ice cream makes you happier than finding a dozen roses wrapped in silk. That isn’t to say he skips out on gifting you expensive rewards.
“Every pet needs a well earned treat…”
+++++++
So, I’m officially back, and I’m currently going through my inbox to answer requests. I apologize for taking so long to get to them but life is currently giving me lemons and I’m not the best at making lemonade… (that was funny so you better laugh or else…. :/ 🖤) Anyway, I hope you Min Stan’s liked this one… 🖤
[ BONUS CONTENT + ]
This hairstyle on him was insanely attractive for no apparent reason. Whoever’s idea it was to style him like this during that era should get a raise, extra paid time off, and a Medal of Honor from Stay. 🖤 Credit to the creator 🖤
#skz#stray kids#skz smut#stray kids x reader#skz imagines#skz x reader#kpop smut#smut prompts#seungmin#seungmin x reader#seungmin imagines#kim seungmin scenarios#kim seungmin stray kids#kim seungmin skz#kim seungmin smut#kim seungmim#kim seungmin#seungmin skz#seungmin stray kids#seungmin smut#seungmin hard thoughts#seungmin hard hours#kim seungmin hard hours#kim seungmin hard thoughts#kpop hard hours#kpop hard thoughts#fanfic writing#ff writer#ddlg18#ddlgsub
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18+ MDNI, fem!omega!reader/alpha!kiba // cw: omegaverse, knotting, breeding. established relationship.
↳ you slip into heat at the worst time imaginable; right on kiba’s 30th birthday. as a result, nothing goes according to plan.
“ugh, i’m so sorry.”
you barely recognize the sound of your own voice as you listen to the quiet sigh your boyfriend lets out as soon as he wraps his strong arms around you from behind.
your bedroom is enveloped in darkness despite the fact that it’s summer — a particularly hot one this year — and the alarm clock on your nightstand shows that it’s barely a little past eight in the evening. it’s still light outside, the sky is clear and pretty, but the curtains that frame your window are drawn tight. the only source of light comes in the form of a single orange streak that seeps from the hallway through the crack in the door.
as of right now, it sits on the corner of your pillow that you’re resting your head on, unmoving. judging by the progressing hour, as well as the way faint warmth begins to tickle the top of your head at that very instant, you suppose it won’t take long until the ray settles on your already much too hot cheek as well.
nuzzling your face further into the cotton, crisp white bedding, you can’t help but let your eyes roll in evident dread at the realization. if your current situation is to be taken into any form of consideration, extra heat is the last thing you need right now.
kiba’s weight makes him sink deeper into the mattress when he readjusts on top of the bed you’d spent ages curled up in, trying to find solace all by yourself; that is until he’d shown up.
he had barely stepped foot inside your apartment when the scent of what was going on had hit him square in the face and had led him straight to you. granted, you’d vaguely texted him about it beforehand as to not make him worry too much, whilst also explaining why you couldn’t make it to his birthday dinner, but nothing could have prepared him for this.
and while he’d thought he could handle it as he sat in his car and drove over to your place instead of the restaurant where you were supposed to meet, he’s not so sure that can be the case anymore.
after all, you smell outright intoxicating. it’s so profound and intense, your scent. so sweet that it almost makes his teeth ache. but it’s not just the smell of you that coaxes him to slip into protector mode and start acting on instinct — though it is a key factor here. no, it’s the fact that every single aspect of you in that very moment is designed to lure an alpha like him right in. to lock him into mating.
always known to be a headstrong, self-assured kind of man; one with clear boundaries and a rare ability to make definite choices without any sort of trouble — oftentimes on a whim — kiba finds himself feeling perplexed for the first time in a long while.
to put it simply, he doesn’t know what to do. he’s got his girlfriend, a naked omega in heat, wrapped in his arms. he’s got the most raging boner that he’s ever had in his life twitching and throbbing in his pants, pressing so stubbornly against the zipper that it hurts like a motherfucker. he’s got a sudden wildfire overtaking his senses and fast-crumbling sanity.
but what he doesn’t have is consent.
every inhale he executes now, it’s like he’s turning into a brainless insect at best. you’re pure sugar, fruit dipped in honey, and every thought he has dissipates into nothing because of it. he’s ready to carelessly drown in the nectar if it means you’ll let him devour you whole.
will you, though?
god, never mind that for now; his pushy alpha brain cannot possibly bring itself to think about you refusing him at a crucial time like this. all that matters is that he shows you that he’s ready to help you out, to make it clear as day. your sudden heat has induced a rut from his side and it’s starting to give him a fever as the first signs of it step into the spotlight.
it’s all happening so fast, his pants are already feeling way too tight. there’s a blush creeping up his neck, tinting his ears and cheeks a bright red, and pre-cum is turning his underwear sticky. one second he was fine, albeit slightly worried for your wellbeing. now, he’s horny out of his fucking mind and his dick just won’t stop growing bigger.
so as a result, his shoes now lay discarded in the middle of your bedroom from the way he had hurried to get to you as soon as possible. his keys and phone had practically been tossed to the side on your nightstand, carelessly. the screen sometimes lights up with birthday wishes from friends and family, most of who you’ve already met, but neither of you cares about it in that moment. he’ll type his thank you’s in the morning.
you exhale a breath you’d forgotten you were holding when he brings you closer to his chest, embracing you until your limbs become entangled with his own longer ones and your naked spine touches the buttons of the fancy navy blue button up shirt you’d suggested he put on back when you’d still thought you could endure this entire ordeal that you’re currently suffering through.
his belt buckle is cold. it almost feels like a blessing when it presses against your sizzling hot skin.
“hey,” is all he says.
“oh, god,” you grit out in reply, practically heaving at this point. the amount of saliva that starts to gather on the flat of your tongue the moment your body senses he’s near is ungodly. it’s unnatural, the way you respond to him.
“i know,” he coos softly even if he doesn’t know; he can’t possibly know what it’s like to endure a thing like this. but he tries. “here, lemme… i gotcha, baby. shh.”
a strangled little sound leaves your lips when he holds you still and starts to scent you without even giving it a second thought. to the surprise of both of you, you comply without any sort of fuss as he drags his hands all over your stiff, naked body, effectively easing the overly tense muscle into something a bit more lax and bearable. you don’t even notice how hard you’d been clenching your jaw until he coaxes you into relaxing it with a couple of strokes from his fingers.
slipping into heat completely unprepared can be a pesky little thing for an organized, perfectionist omega like yourself. when you’re so used to leading an independent lifestyle in a society that certainly doesn’t lend you a helping hand with it, and indulge in endless persistance of being in complete control of your body at all times, the occasional flood of hormones that turns you embarrassingly docile is immensely unwelcomed as far as you’re concerned.
yes, blatantly aching to be bred by your alpha’s cock like you’re some bitch in heat is seen as embarrassing in your eyes even if that’s exactly what you are. you believe there’s a lot more to you than just rolling onto your back and acting submissive towards your more dominant partner, thus listening to that wretched primal part of your brain that’s taken center stage inside your skull for now, but at the same time…
it is just so unbelievably hard to fight instinct when he’s right there behind you, with his hips pressed so closely to your own. so hard to ignore and not burn at the way his touch turns noticeably more possessive over the span of a couple of moments of comforting strokes he otherwise gives to your body. so hard to dismiss the way your heartbeats align and your cores reach the exact same temperature.
he even smells invitingly delicious. the rut you’d unintentionally sent him spiralling into had changed the base of his scent in mere minutes. its only aim now is to make him as alluring as possible to you so that you will enable him to mate and reproduce. and he’s not even to blame.
aftershave riddles his otherwise signaturely musky scent; it softens the almost overbearing notes of pure alpha. when he raises his hand to stroke his fingers along your jaw for a second time around, you’re briefly present enough to also catch hints of coconut adorning his tan skin. it’s rich and summery, perfectly him.
he must have used the pricey shower gel you’d bought to surprise him for your anniversary a few months back, because he’s gotten all tidied up for date night that’s now definitely not going to happen because of your ‘condition’, or whatever you want to call it.
either way, it’s the fucking worst. to say that the entire thing is a bust would be an understatement. even the super secret birthday party that you’ve planned for ages had to be rescheduled because of the way how your skin feels like it’s being pulled too tight over your bones, the flames erupting.
i mean, slick is literally dripping out of your soaked pussy like you’re a fucking hose, goddammit. did you really think you’d be suitable for socializing in your current state?
part of it is your own fault, you suppose. ignoring the symptoms and the evident increase in your body temperature that’s been building up over the last few days because you had something to prove was a stupid idea. believing the fact that your sheer will and determination would be able to keep the worst of your heat at bay, without the usage of any sort of suppressants at least until the weekend had passed, had been an even stupider one.
and now you’re stuck paying the consequences.
“i’m sorry,” you feebly parrot the apology that you’re still slightly unsure about if you mean to give to him or yourself. perhaps it’s both. at this point, who knows?
there’s a beat of silence before he whispers, “you’re sorry for what?”
the rasp in his voice pulls you back from your troubled thoughts that just won’t stop whirling around one possible solution to this agony: dick.
have you really stooped so low?
fighting to at least keep your sanity if you can’t keep your pride, you try to focus whilst straining your ears. try to actually listen to him. despite speaking quietly, he sounds almost breathless. like he’s struggling to be in your presence, doing absolutely nothing about the problem at hand.
you should let him do something. better yet, you should let him in.
come on. be a good girl. a good little omega.
let him in.
“for, uh… mmh,” your brow furrows as you try to find the right words you’re looking for. fuck this stupid omega brain of yours, truly. “for ruining your birthday just like i’m ruining your pants right now; gosh, i dunno.”
heat sears your face at the thought of the milky white residue you’ve surely left coating his jeans in copious amounts. instead of keeping you in-check, the image of it only makes you all the more hot and bothered. god help you.
“it’s fine,” he assures you way too fast, swallowing thickly.
the action is audible. listening to it, you can imagine how his adam’s apple bobs with it. up and down, so subtle but just so attractive. his neck appears in your mind’s eye, that sweaty, muscular throat of his, with the vein protruding on the side and— stop it.
“i-it’s not fine! what part of this looks fine to you…?” you groan as you shake your head in disbelief. he’s so close, you just need him so badly. it makes you unable to think straight. “we had plans, for crying out loud!”
“we can take a raincheck.”
“but you’ve just entered your thirties!”
“so?”
“it’s an important number, is it not?”
“babe,” he says, chuckling at your nonsense. “i’ll be in my thirties for a long while. don’t worry about it, seriously.”
“but i’ve got an entire cake meant for like ten people minimum sitting in my fridge.”
“well, if that’s the case,” he mutters, grinning lazily, “i’ll try my hardest to eat the whole thing by the end of the weekend if it’ll make ya feel any better.”
you turn your head to glare at him. “you’re not helping with your silly little jokes, you know.”
he snickers at that and it makes your heart bounce. “oh, i know, all right.”
“it’s just,” you start, sighing. the bridge of your nose scrunches up in annoyance when yet another heatwave washes over you and you suppress the urge to mewl. “this entire thing is so frustrating.”
“mm. tell me ‘bout it,” he says before he runs his broad palm along the column of your neck. your collarbone. the underside of your breast and down your stomach, which trembles at the feeling of the rough callouses that adorn his fingerpads.
the touch only offers more oxygen to the already raging flames that are already licking your entire body. you can’t stifle the small whimper that leaves your lips in response to even more silvery strings of your arousal smearing over the dark denim of his pants almost immediately. it causes a muscle to flutter in his cheek as he looks down and watches how wetter you’re getting by the second.
you’re entirely naked, have gotten rid of your damp, slick-coated panties because your blood feels like it’s boiling under your skin and you just couldn’t handle the heat anymore. he’s completely dressed because he didn’t think you’d actually slip into one while he’s around.
no, he didn’t dare believe it, even if his keen sense of smell did allow him to catch a whiff of a particular kind of sweetness appearing in your scent a long while ago. didn’t dare consider it, even if it did start to invoke some kind of primal, almost aggressive urge to protect what’s his in him.
but the thing is: you aren’t even his to begin with — at least not yet, that is. you refuse to bear his mark, refuse to submit, refuse to be mated even if he’s expressed the wish himself once or twice by now.
so to be entirely fair, it’s no wonder kiba feels surprised to see you acting so disheveled and pliant for him like you are right now. unlike him, you’re always so collected, looking like you have your shit together no matter the situation that’s thrown in your direction. making it look like he’s the one relying on you, instead of you relying on him, despite the roles you both possess.
maybe that’s why he’s so into you. after all, he’s always been one to love a good challenge.
and you’re just that.
furthermore, you’ve become so good at keeping your cool around him that in the last year and a half of being in a relationship together, you’ve even managed to slip out of his grasp whenever the merest hint of your heat had started to come forward. taking suppressants and disappearing off the face of the earth whenever your scent had started gaining attention from nearby alphas, you’ve successfully avoided your boyfriend until the entire thing had passed and you were back to normal, leaving him yearning all the more to see that side of you once and for all.
and whilst we’re on the topic of yearning…
he’s about to go batshit crazy because of it.
“listen to me. i don’t care about the pants, i’ll wash ‘em. and my birthday isn’t ruined,” he mutters as he nuzzles his face into the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. “far from it, actually.”
silence hangs in the air for a little while before you finally whisper, “really?”
“really,” he answers in a heartbeat. it’s genuine.
he kisses your neck without warning then, making the nerves near your scent gland buzz with phantom electricity. it’s all warmth and grazing of sharp canines, and the way you arch your back so that you can push your ass further into his crotch in response makes both of your breaths shudder.
he grinds against you, and you react in the same way. drags his tongue along the sweetspot on your neck, and you reach back with your hand so that you can tug on his hair that he’s combed through a million times tonight just for you. you rock against each other like this for a long while, just dry humping, kissing, edging and listening to each other’s shaky breathing.
you’ve become outright slippery between your legs by now, it makes the rubbing of your thighs all the easier even if you want to die from shame because of how obviously horny and out of mind you’re acting during it. moaning and whining, you’re practically trembling by the time his fingers circle your puffy little clit. you feel your hole clenching around nothing in an instant; practically begging you to let him stuff it full already.
he applies steady pressure, the same kind he’s applied so many times before, but it feels different now. you’ve had sex plenty of times during the course of your relationship, even before it had been given an official date, but never during one of your heats. it changes everything. it’s an entirely new playfield that you have yet to explore.
truth be told, you’re shocked. you’ve known him for over two decades, have grown alongside him; drifting apart and reconnecting once or twice, perhaps even three times during your years spent in different high schools and universities, before you’d finally settled on remaining in each other’s lives for good.
you’re supposed to know every inch of both his body and soul by now, but the heat that’s plaguing your mind makes you see him in an entirely different light. it’s like you’re wearing rose-coloured spectacles. you’ve been in love with him before, now you’re obsessed. every breath you take makes the world spin right before your very eyes even though he has just become your world.
and that world slows down, now, all sound is drowned out by your rapid pulse that beats inside your ears as he quickens his touch on your almost painfully sensitive button of nerves. your cunt is so warm, soft, sticky. he can barely keep it together from how badly he wants to pound it already.
“k-kiba,” you stutter his name and suppress the urge to cringe at yourself. anger and overwhelming lust make your toes curl.
“look at how wet you are, pretty,” he utters softly, sounding so baffled and in awe by it at the same time that it’s almost funny. and sure enough, when he raises his hand from the apex of your thighs and holds it right in front of your face, his fingers are practically glimmering with your slick.
you’re quick to avert your eyes from the sight.
“well, you’re really fucking hard, okay?” you attempt to quip back but fail outrageously. it’s supposed to be a jab, your statement, but the high pitch that appears in your voice now exhibits pure, relentless need instead. even your hips are wiggling by their own accord and you hate yourself for allowing it, but you just can’t help it. it’s all instinct.
“fuck yeah i am. i mean, how couldn’t i be hard when you—” he grunts mid-sentence and you swear there’s a certain kind of edge to it; like a growl that thunders somewhere deep within his chest. every exhale tickles your throat as he pants — it cools the sweat that sticks to your skin in a layer so thick that it makes you shiver. “when you smell so fuckin’ good; so sweet?”
your scents meld as you writhe against each other, it makes you tip your head back and gasp from how good it is to inhale into your lungs. at this point, your brain is screaming at you to let him in, to let him do whatever he wants if it means he’ll stuff you full and knock you up by the end of it.
you can’t take it anymore.
you want, no, you need to feel the heated stretch of your alpha’s cock. need to be mounted. to be turned over then so that you can look at his face as he manhandles you into the tightest mating press known to man, and to feel his sharp teeth at long last sink into the sensitive scent gland on your neck, marking you as his before he lets you do the same to him. to let him use you as his cocksleeve the moment you become his mate, his hands gripping your hips so hard during every thrust that you’re bruising at the curves, but it just feels too good to notice the pain to accompany it.
you want your sloppy cunt squelching and gushing slick around him until he can feel his balls tighten and he cums and spills his load so deep into you that it goes straight to your goddamn womb. want to watch him keep every single drop from spilling with the help of his knot that you want him to push into you at some point, too. want his sweaty forehead pressing against your own as he fucking plugs you and sucks in deep, ragged breaths, whispering how he’s just put so many pups inside you that you’ll have to start thinking about moving house.
and afterwards, you want soft, warm kisses instead of messy, sloppy ones. you want the faintest taste of your blood on his tongue intermingling with his own iron. want him looking so big as he holds himself steady above you; your legs still wrapped around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back. want him calling you his mate for the first time ever because he’s finally able to do so. and well… you want yourself whispering the same.
you want all of that.
“kiba, i need you to take care of me,” you whisper, turning around to face him. your body is aching for him by now, the scent and closeness only make your desire worsen. you’re turning light-headed with want and it makes you wrap your twitchy hands around his bicep and tug on his sleeve as you try to pull him forward so that he can top you as soon as possible. you’re clinging onto him for dear life, throwing yourself at him even if you’d said you’d never. “need you to make me yours, ‘kay? right here, right now. please.”
“yeah,” he mumbles, clearly dazed. his body moves so quick, it’s pure thrill. “yeah, of course, baby. anything you want.”
poor man, he’s been waiting for all this time just to hear you say the words.
the quiet clink of his belt buckle becoming undone causes a shiver to rush down your spine. it sends you into a frenzy.
“please. oh, god, please, please,” you repeat your pleas, choking back a sob as he pushes you onto your stomach. the weight of him that settles above you is so comforting, it only causes more hot tears to well up inside your eyes. “it hurts so bad, it feels like i’m fucking dying.”
“i’m here,” he says, and his touch feels like you’re being stroked with embers when he grips you by the hips and makes you push your ass higher into the air. he can’t control the strength he possesses anymore, the manhandling has already begun even if he’s trying so hard to remain gentle. “i’ll take care of ya. i promise, sweetheart.”
who would have thought he’d get a mate for his birthday?
#a bit late but oh well!!#in honor of the birthday boy#kiba smut#kiba x reader#naruto smut#biscuit drabbles#cw omegaverse#cw knotting#cw breeding
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ravenous ; yoichi isagi
pairing yoichi isagi x f!reader
word count 1.7k
synopsis nothing makes your boyfriend more ravenous than winning a game — fortunately for you, you’re the only one who can satiate him.
content contains tiny fascination/emphasis on a sweaty!isagi & his muscles <3, creampie, praise kink (isagi receiving), excessive cum, pet names (sweet girl, pretty girl, baby)
author's notes i love sweaty isagi & i wanna suck his sweat from his post-game/post-practice towel 😁
You would think that having the spotlight on him — having an entire nation’s eyes all focused on him — would be enough to satisfy your boyfriend’s need to show everyone how he’s the one who dominates above all else.
But there’s something about the way you run up to him after the game, letting out an excited “‘Ichi!” before jumping into his arms, that has his mind now locked on one thing and one thing only: completely devouring you.
His sweet girl, with your legs wrapped around his waist, completely uncaring of the way his whole entire body is currently drenched in sweat after sprinting across the field for ninety minutes. His sweet girl, who’s so proud and happy of his win, of him, that you can barely babble out coherent sentences of praise. You pepper kisses all over his face, wrapping your arms tightly over his neck to do a more stable job of it.
Yoichi’s team has just won the finals, 6-2, and it was Yoichi that scored both the first and last goals. Giggling, you press another kiss to his cheek before whispering in his ear, “I’m so proud of you, ‘Ichi.”
The sight of you, all fresh and clean and melting into his arms, giddy and all too excited to praise him, has him kissing you hard and gripping your waist even tighter. He hears the distinct clicks of cameras going off and the hollers of his teammates, but all he can focus on is savoring the taste of you and your lipgloss. Pressing his forehead against your own, he takes you in.
You’re still smiling at him, laughing gently. “Yoichi, you have to put me down now. We still haven’t decided how we’re going to celebrate!”
The two of you barely stumble through the door and into the privacy of the penthouse he just bought for the two of you before he’s making good on his internal promise of devouring you.
His hands are everywhere, groping and invasive, snatching at the fabric of your clothes and tugging until it gives way to him because whether he’s off the field or not, every obstacle gives way to Yoichi Isagi.
His kisses are hot and hungry, full of longing and the need to show you that he deserves this, deserves you, and everything is moving so fast, you can barely keep up.
“Mh — ‘Ichi! What about the after party?” You manage to gasp out. Your shirt is already off, and he’s quick to make sure that your skirt follows suit.
“We’ll still make it in time.” He grunts out, hindbrain taking over as he pushes you against the door. You let out a little yelp from the sudden pain of your back colliding against it, but he’s easily forgiven when he gets down on his knees to examine you in full.
You think you hear the distinct sound of him taking in a sharp breath. You found the perfect pair of lacy panties in his team’s colors to surprise him for after the game, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks and burning slowly in your tummy as you squirm under his intense gaze.
He presses a kiss to your clit through the thin fabric, and you can’t help but card your fingers through his thick locks of hair. “Yoichi, don’t tease!” Your chastisement sounds more like a whine, and all he does is laugh before licking a stripe on your panties, looking up at you with a near devilish look in his eyes. You can’t look away from your boyfriend, and he maintains eye contact the entire time as he bites down on the waistband of your panties, tugging it off with his teeth alone.
You lift one leg, balancing it on his shoulder — just the slightest bit unsteady because you always feel so weak when Yoichi has you however he wants — allowing yourself to step out of your panties. Before you know what’s happening, Yoichi is descending on your cunt, lapping at your arousal like he’s never going to get the chance to do so again. You grip his hair, mewling from his ministrations, the leg on his shoulder practically locking up.
“Taste so fuckin’ good.” His chin is covered in your juices, and you recognize that near-crazed look in his eyes. It’s almost similar to the one he sports on the field, where he’s close to reaching his favorite point in the game.
You’ll be lucky if you’re able to even stand by yourself by the time he’s finished with you.
Standing up and pulling down his soccer shorts and briefs in one go, just barely enough to free his aching cock, he angles it ‘til you can feel the heat of it against your thigh.
“Gotta make it fast, baby.” He mutters, giving you a quick kiss. You can taste the tangy sweetness of yourself still stuck on his lips and it distracts you just enough for the feel of his throbbing length entering you to be a shock.
“Ah! Fuck, Yoichi!” You gasp out, nails immediately digging into his back. He should be thankful his jersey is still on with the pressure you’re digging into his muscles. You can feel your walls tightening up against him; Yoichi is too thick and just too much for you to handle most days. Usually, he has enough kindness in him to have you come apart twice before even thinking about ravishing you, but right now—
—right now, he is all sweat-slicked, hard muscle. An unstoppable force. Just like everything else that crosses Yoichi Isagi’s path, your tight cunt gives way to him. Somehow, deep in your fucked out mind, you knew that you would end up in this position: entirely out of control and subject to any of Yoichi’s whims.
“Couldn’t stop thinking of my pretty girl when I scored the first time. Did you cheer for me, baby?” He’s so close that you can feel his words tickle against your ear, and you whimper, nodding in reply. Of course you would cheer for your boyfriend; you were probably the loudest one cheering.
“Always cheer — ah! — ing f-for you.” You can barely speak. You’ve got your legs wrapped around Yoichi’s slim waist, clinging onto him like he’s your lifeline, and you’ll drown without him. “Love ch-cheering for you!”
“Yeah? You mean that, pretty girl?” Every little ounce of praise you stutter out to him has him pounding into you even harder. He’s working so hard to bring you both to completion that the least you can do is help give him the needed boost he needs to reach his own climax.
“Mhm! You played so well today, ‘Ichi.” Your hands travel downwards, sneaking them under his shirt so you can feel his muscled back without any fabric blocking you. You love the feel of his bare back, sinking your nails to leave a memory of this moment embedded in his skin. He barely registers the pain of it; instead, he’s too focused on continuing to thrust so heavily, so hard into you, that your legs and thighs are screaming from the strain. “I love being fucked by the number one striker in the world.”
“You’re so strong, ‘Ichi.”
You whisper this against his ear, toes practically curling from the overwhelming sensation of your orgasm crashing over you way too soon. You moan but it sounds more like a high-pitched wail; half of it incoherent praise, the other half just disjointed pleas for him to slow down. You can feel the familiar throbbing and swelling of his cock inside of you, preparing to release, and you’re more than ready for it. Your legs hang limply by his side, and it’s only Yoichi that’s keeping you from slipping onto the floor in a wet, sticky mess.
“Gonna — oh fuck! — gonna cum in you, baby.” He’s panting. The exertion from a ninety-minute game and then fucking you boneless right after is taking its toll on your boyfriend’s body. Your hands travel underneath his shirt, slipping away from his muscled back and instead touching him everywhere; his hardened abs, his strong biceps. You can feel his muscles tightening as they work to continue fucking into you, and he’s chasing after his release like a man gone mad.
One, two, three — each thrust is hard and threatens to overstimulate your sensitive walls, but you let him use your body freely because he deserves it. He played so well today, and you wouldn’t want to be devoured whole by anyone else in the world other than Yoichi Isagi, number one striker in the world.
His cum is hot and thick, flooding into you. He’s so deep, you’re certain that he’s spilling it all into your womb. He’s biting down on the soft juncture between your neck and shoulder; the mark near your collarbone will be difficult to cover with the dress you planned to wear to the party, but somehow, you can’t find it in yourself to care. You sigh softly, content to just be held by Isagi as he waits for his cock to finally soften so he can slip out of you.
You’re both a mess. If a stranger saw you out on the street, they would have assumed that it was you running up and down a soccer field. You feel dizzy with pleasure, and you think you hear Isagi chuckle at the sight of you.
“You alright, baby?” He asks, setting your body down gently. Standing, as you predicted, is substantially harder now, but you manage to not fall over as he gets down on his knees again.
He helps you back into your panties, and it’s not until he places another kiss to your clit after he pulls them on you that you realize what a mess down there you are.
“Yoichi, wait — I need to get a different pair to wear to the party.”
He looks up at you, grinning like a devil. You can feel his cum seeping out of your cunt, trickling into a tiny puddle inside your panties. They’re damp and sticky and messy, but it’s kind of hot.
“Keep them on for me. Please?” His eyes are so wide and angelic, but that smirk on his face ruins any chance Isagi has for being mistaken for anything other than a monster straight from hell. A whole entire party where you’re reeking of sex, covered in love bites, and the constant threat of his cum staining your thighs and running down your legs?
Well… You suppose you can do it for him. He is a winner tonight, after all.
#isagi yoichi x reader#yoichi isagi x reader#yoichi isagi smut#isagi yoichi smut#isagi x reader#bllk x reader#bllk smut#bllk fluff#bllk isagi#bllk imagines#blue lock smut#blue lock x reader#isagi yoichi x reader smut#bllk headcanons#yoichi x reader#isagi yoichi x you#yoichi isagi x you#lemon#one shot#fluff#isagi smut#yoichi smut
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Random short of Alastor’s shadow being done with his shit and becoming friends with our favorite losers. ( @xxqueenofdragonsxx @downthegenderriver )
Shadowstor was tired.
So tired.
Contrary to popular belief shadows COULD get tired. And Shadowstor was aware of that early on.
Okay… to be fair most shadows probably can’t get tired. Because most shadows can’t feel.
But Shadowstor was an exception. Because the very reason for it’s exhaustion is the same reason it can think to begin with.
Alastor.
Not the Radio Demon. Because Alastor himself isn’t the Radio Demon, no. Shadowstor helped with that. Helped more than it gets credit for (which is virtually none because of how Alastor likes to posture himself.)
And that’s fine, really. Shadowstor is a shadow for fucks sake. It isn’t made for being directly in the spotlight. Alastor is and Shadowstor fades into the background, being obscured with the focus on it’s counterpart.
The thing that does get Shadowstor exhausted though is the fact that Alastor has the tendency of being an impulsive idiot.
Now, don’t get Shadowstor wrong, Alastor is definitely a large part of why the Radio Demon has a reputation as an unhinged, powerful, scary individual. Shadowstor helped with the powers though, but really it thinks its greatest contribution was the fact that this means the Radio Demon now has some semblance of impulse control.
Alastor may not listen to anyone. But it’s usually kind of hard not to hear out a literal manifestation and source of your powers.
Usually. Because Alastor will still start a fight with pretty much anyone. He’ll go on the air and mock Vox for his crush. He’ll say ducks are an overrated animal right in front of Lucifer. He’ll 1v1 the literally first man. He’ll call Susan’s blouse tacky.
And all Shadowstor can usually do is sit back and watch. Because it’s bound to help Alastor. Bound to be part of the Radio Demon. But that doesn’t stop it from being exhausted every single time Al does start something.
One thing though about being tied to Alastor is you get to know others who are tied to Alastor. Others who are equally exhausted by Alastor.
Husk.
The Bar Cat was one being Shadowstor could relate to on a deep level. Because Shadowstor has to put up with the ineptness of Alastor. But Husk has to put up with the ineptness of Alastor and everyone else.
It’s because of this when Alastor is sleeping (which, despite Angel Dust’s verbal doubts on the matter does happen, Alastor isn’t an all powerful being, despite how much he pretends to be,) Shadowstor sometimes will go out, going downstairs to the bar that is usually only occupied by the Cat-Demon waiting from his not-boyfriend to come home.
(Sexual and romantic feelings are so weird. Relationships are so weird and Shadowstor is glad it doesn’t have to deal with that.)
After a particularly tiring day of Alastor trying to break into the Vees tower and destroy Vox’s body pillow of him, Shadowstor was exhausted. It had pretty much given up on trying where Vox was involved, because Alastor seemed to get particular joy out of taunting the TV, but it still felt like it had to try. At this point it was a matter of principle. It had fought with Alastor on this for years and it was not stopping to just let him win.
“Oh, my dear, you worry too much.” He said to Shadowstor before merging with it into the shadows and traveling across the city.
Fifteen minutes later Shadowstor had to rush them out if there because Vox had installed a shark filled moat around his office. Which Shadowstor had seen but Alastor walked right into. Because apparently “radio demon” powers extend to wresting sharks in the water (it does NOT.)
So now Alastor was asleep after pretending he had totally-not-been chewed up by some demon-sharks. And Shadowstor went downstairs to the bar.
“You too, huh?” Husk said to it, seeming to notice right when the shadow crossed with threshold. Working with the Radio Demon for years would get a person skilled at picking up changes in shadows quickly.
Shadowstor just nodded and slumped against the wall, putting its hands to its head.
The winged cat nodded in agreement, “I’ll drink to that.” He said as he took a half-full whiskey bottle and chugged it.
Shadowstor wished it could drink.
“What was it this time? Lucifer’s ducks again?”
The shadow shook its head and flat, vertically-aligned hand on top of it, making the sign for “shark.”
“Oh. Vox. Do I even want to know?”
Shadowstor shook its head again because no, Husk really didn’t. It doesn’t even want to start to think about the Alastor-Body-Pillow. Or the Alastor shrine. Or the Alastor fanfiction it found (which Vox should be lucky that Alastor didn’t find that because otherwise there’d be another broken TV screen in this hotel.)
Right then a beaten up pink spider burst through the hotel doors, going right to a stool in the bar and crashing onto it.
“Tough night?” Husk asked, already handing his not-boyfriend a drink that had been prepared even before Shadowstor arrived.
“You know it. Fuckin’ Val.”
Husk made a sound to show he was listening.
“Apparently Vox was pissed today. So that meant Val was pissed today.”
Oh… oops?
Okay, to be fair, if Vox is pissed at Alastor that isn’t really Shadowstor’s fault. It tried to stop him.
The shadow made a face palm again at its counterpart’s need to harass every single person he came into contact with.
“Wha- Smiles?”
Alastor’s here?! Wait… no he isn’t. Cause Shadowstor is here. And Shadowstor would know if Al woke up.
Oh… the spider demon is staring right at it.
Shadowstor shook its head, a bit annoyed at the idea of being confused with that impulsive buffoon.
“Huh? Husk, what—“
“That’s Alastor’s shadow.”
Shadowstor waved.
“Alastor’s what?”
“Shadow? You know? The thing that goes around with him. Helps with his powers. I’m sure he’s manifested it in front of you before.”
“Oh… yeah. So it’s just… here? Where’s Al?”
Shadowstor made the sign for sleeping.
“Sleeping.” Husk translated.
“What? How?!”
“His shadow can leave when Alastor isn’t conscious or controlling it.”
“No. I mean how did you get that from that?!” Angel says as he motions back over to Shadowstor which… rude.
“I know sign language.”
“You know WHAT?!”
“Sign language.”
“Jesus Whiskers, how many languages do you know?”
“Well there’s Russian, Spanish—“
“Wait. No. Back to the point. Alastor’s shadow just comes down here sometimes and talk to you?”
“…yeah?”
“About what?”
Shadowstor just makes one sign with as much as exhaustion as it can.
“Alastor.”
“Al— wait,” Angel laughs, “even Smiles’ shadow has a problem with him?!”
Shadowstor starts signing to explain the exact issue it faces with Alastor, Husk working to translate while Angel just nods in response.
“Holy shit. I can’t believe a fucking shadow has some oftha same shitty boss troubles as me.”
Shadowstor gives a shake and growl at that. Because Alastor isn’t it’s boss. It can see Husk about to translate before Angel cuts in.
“Oh… not your boss.”
Shadowstor nods.
“…so you’re like… you’re own person?”
Shadowstor shrugs because who knows. It wasn’t sentient before Alastor but it sure as hell is now.
“… you got a name?”
And Shadowstor pauses because no. It’s just Alastor’s shadow. For as long as it’s been around it’s never had a name. Alastor never deemed that necessary.
“Husk? Does it?” Angel asks when Shadowstor won’t answer which- hey it’s still right here. It can talk for itself. Or respond anyways.
“I don’t… think so?”
Angel turns back to Shadowstor.
“Do ya want one? Like… if you’re separate from Alastor shouldn’t you have a name that isn’t just ‘his shadow.’”
The shadow thinks for a second before slowly nodding, intrigued by this novel idea.
“What about… Tom?”
Tom?
“Tom?” Husk asks.
“Fuck. Fine, what about… Dusk? Cause y’a know shadows and darkness and stuff…”
Dusk… Dusk… it likes that.
Dusk nods and it can see the spider demon smile.
“Sweet. Nice ta meetya Duskie- oh wait. Duskie… Husky! Aw ya rhyme!”
Dusk can see Husk roll his eyes, and that just makes it even more comfortable in its decision.
—Later—
“So, you’re only able to really move around at night? When Al is asleep?”
Dusk nods.
“…Husk, what do you think Lucifer and Vox would say about moving our ‘Fuck Alastor’ meetings to nighttime?”
Oh. Oh Dusk likes this one.
#did I seriously just spend time writing something about a shadow?#yes#yes I did#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel memes#angel dust#angel dust hazbin hotel#husk#husker hazbin hotel#huskerdust#hazbin hotel husk#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor#alastor is a mess#Alastor’s shadow#Shadowstor#hazbin hotel fic#crack treated seriously#radio demon#hazbin hotel crack
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Unwanted Soul _ Part 6 = Requested
[Yandere!Alastor x Owner of his Soul!Reader]
Related Request
Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 2.5 (ask) — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 (here)
That day, that inferno yet glorious day, Alastor met his fated one. His other half, as people would say. In his days alive, he considered himself married to his work. Never courted other ladies even though a number of them were in the palm of his hand, able to bend to his will. Never dated because it was a waste of time when he had better things to do. And never even thought of delicating his life and time to another that wasn’t his mother
But it was after meeting you that there was that want, that need to please and care for you unlike any other. He thought it was a fleeting feeling since you did save him at his lowest, a bit of admiration for your unique power, one of its kind as he sees it. He thought he wanted the power for himself, wanted you on his leash to be his to control
So he tried. Manipulation tactic, words of persuasion, charming personality, and his overwhelming power. These were all at his disposal and he used them all to make you bend like the others in his living life and afterlife. Yet you never did falter. The only thing that was consistent about you was your care and your insistence for him to leave your home
Now he doesn’t want to leave. Not until he figured out what was happening with himself. He can’t maintain his Overlord image with this destruction within himself. So he made all excuses he could to delay his departure. His wound was the reason why you were caring for him and letting him stay, so he’ll just worsen it with the help of his claws and shadows. Your healing abilities can’t keep up? Welp, looks like he has to stay a while longer
“Why rush recovery? Do you really want me gone, Dear?”
“Yes. Now get out. Your playground is not here.”
“Hahaha! No.”
He felt like Alice. The girl that followed the white rabbit down the rabbit hole and found wonderland, following the white rabbit all over the place and experience so much, before waking up to it all being a dream. However, different from Alice, Alastor doesn’t want to leave this wonderland he found. He doesn’t want to wake up from this blissful dream
As luck would have it, you live in the more secluded side of the pentagram and you weren’t as connected to pompous technology that Vox places around the place to stalk demons. Nor were the demons in your area acquainted with the famous and infamous Overlords. There seem to be a silent agreement among your area’s residents to not bring in political or business like matters. Only self-interest
He was pleased to find this place as a little haven away from the spotlight. No demon here cared who Alastor was nor do they want to know, if he was weak, they’ll prey upon him. That was why some demons were trying to take him while you were there to save him. When he first spoke and his staff appeared in his hands, you immediately recognized him
Fear and regret was what he expected to see in your eyes, yet all you display was annoyance and cautiousness. You were quick to set him on his feet and direct him to the door, providing him directions back to the center of the city where he belonged. The fact that you showed him he didn’t belong here set something ablaze in his cold heart
So he stayed longer than what the past him would have liked. The more he learned about you, the deeper he was. He picked up your little habits, your interest hobbies, your peculiar interest, and your wonderful personality
Soon he found a label for all he was doing and feeling. He was under the influence called ‘love’, he remembered his mother telling him that he will find ‘the one for him’, maybe he can explain it or maybe he can’t. Either way, he’ll know in his heart. Whoever that person or being is, that’s his other half
It was you. All you. He learned it through a terrifying experience
“Darling, I’m back from shopping!” Alastor announced into the apartment after entering the front door through the gaps with the help of his shadows, his little minions carrying bags from his outing into the table you had. “My, I brought a lot more than you needed, but I hope you didn’t mind I took a bit lon—!”
His eyes turned to radio dials when he realized the familiar scent of iron was in your apartment. His grip on his crane tightened as he followed it, stronger and stronger, until he stopped in front of your bedroom door. No question, it was coming from here. His hand removed itself from behind his back to grip the doorknob, the other bringing his crane to his side.
His gaze shifted from the doorknob to in front of him. Usually, you would have told him not to creepily stand in the front of your door. Why aren’t you telling him to enter? Why aren’t you calling him out? Why was it silent?
In a swift movement, he turned the knob and opened the door. The scent of blood was suffocating, he didn’t think he’ll mind it ever after his new-found interest in murder. Yet when it came to yours, it was suffocating him like he was being pushed under the ocean.
Amidst the shock of it all, he let go of his crane and it dropped to the ground while he made his way to your giant comfortable bed. His eyes darted all over the place. Red. So much red. The bed was soaked in red. Red. Red? Blood. Blood? Why? Where? Your waist, why is there a knife sticking out of it? Your eyes are closed.
Sleeping? Dead? Dead? Dead?
“Dear!” Alastor got onto your bed, his hand hovering over your body as he tried to think of something. “What do I…? Who did this?”
Your eyes fluttered open, he was shocked to see the lack of spark in them, your head tilted up to meet his gaze yet it wasn’t focused. “Al..astor… You’re… here?”
Alastor eyed, “Why wouldn’t I? You sent me to buy restock your supplies! Your locations were all over the place so it took me some time to complete.”
“I sent… you farther away… so that… you’ll leave…” You spoke so monotonously, “Why are… you back…?”
“That’s beside the point! Who attacked you? Who hurt you?! Who put you in such a state?” Alastor demanded, the static grow deafening but you weren’t even affected.
Your dull eyes blinked, “I did.” You reached for the knife, only to hover your hand over the handle, “I did it… to remind myself… some…thing…”
Alastor flinched when you pulled it out, his eyes narrowing as your blood pooled and stained the bed red. Red is a favourite of his. Red that painted his victims. Red that removed his father. Red that was covering you. You don’t look good in your own red. It’s a horrid colour on you.
“You should leave… me…” Your words snapped him out of his thoughts.
In the blink of an eye, he had that healing page you gave him for emergency and slapped it onto your open wound, he stared at it until the page glowed and started its work. You stiffened and jerked from the sudden pressure on your wound.
There, your spark returned, even if it’s just a bit. “What are you—!”
Alastor leaned close, keeping his hand firmly against your healing wound. He got close until he was next to your ear as if whispering a secret. “If you wanted me gone through self-harming, think again, nothing will make me leave you, My Doe. If nothing else, it makes me want to stay longer.”
You glared at him, but slowly relaxed as consciousness seem to fade. Involuntarily, your head leaned against head as your slept. Alastor cradled you, keeping you in place. He eyed the knife still in your hand and took it, burning it with his flame till nothing was left of it.
A mistake of yours was your insistence for his absence. The more you wanted him gone, the more he tried and showed you that it was impossible to get rid of him. His love and fascination turned darked and twisted, becoming obsessive and possessive that he knew it wasn’t the pure love that his mother described or those ladies wanted from him
Oddly enough, you handled him and his feelings like it was natural. The fact that you carry yourself so cool and unbothered, you accepting it all and using it to your advantage. It was exhilarating, like it was a green light to amp up the intensity. He can give you more and more of his affection and love
More. More. MORE
When he learned that you never dealt with souls before, never received a soul or given your soul to another demon all this time while you were in Hell. His idea of giving you his soul made to him. He wants to be your first and he wants you to be his first. He own souls, yes, but he never thought of giving his soul to another to own and rule over him, he can’t imagine that
With you though, he can. To be yours. To have a reminder that you will be his. Everytime he ghost his neck, there was be his reminder. You’ll call for him, you’ll use him, you’ll only think of relying on him. Oh, just thinking of it was divine. Simply divine
You accepting his offer gave him such a rush. He was yours. It wouldn’t take too long until you were his. Well, in his mind and dreams, you were already his when he came to terms with his love for you, but this relationship was two way, not one. He’s patient. Besides, with you, time proves a lot
At first, you didn’t want him in your apartment, then you saw it as normal that he was there, even when he was doing your chores and taking care of you in more ways than one. Shopping? Check. Cleaning? Check. Meals? Check. Snacks? Check. Desserts? Check. There’s no expenses spared for you. You slowly appreicated his hardwork and dedication to you and gave him rewards you weren’t even aware of
Everything was fine. Everything was perfect
Until you saw that insufferable advertisement presented by that dreamer of a princess Charlotte Morningstar. You little interest in the project was enough to send him away. The rage he felt when he was forced to leave your side to serve someone else. He shouldn’t have left you alone then
“We’re so happy to have you with us at the Happy Hotel!”
“Hazbin Hotel. I’m sure we’ll have a wonderful time.”
Lucky he found a loophole to your orders and could contract you via his radio. Else he doesn’t know how much he could take without you near him. Your voice would suffice for now. Then came his time to prove his usefulness to you, Overlord meetings were very confidential, not that you were interested, but sometimes there were juicy moments and secrets learned
He kept you as his little secret, his little treasure to keep hidden. Even when Zestial asks about his disappearance and Carmilla’s shock to his appearance. He kept you off the table. When he learned of Carmilla’s little stunt, he was excited to tell you. You could form angelic weapons, so it was definitely a useful information for you
And he was rewarded for his efforts. A visit to your apartment. Away from that prison of a hotel. He immediately (strictly) told Charlie he was busy with important stuff for the entire day not to disturb him ot request his help on anything
Alastor has to admit, he nearly lost himself when you appeared before his eyes when he was knocked back by Adam. You protecting him and fighting for him. Him. How could he not be in a daze? But his heart broke when you were hurt by that disgusting so-called angel. That red wasn’t a good look on you. No. Not again
He brought you away to attempt healing you. But this was something done by holy power, not something even you can easily heal from. On the surface you looked to be healed, but you were sleeping again. He hugged you tightly in his arms. Don’t disappear on him
This place reeks of death, there’s a chill in the air
And we barely escaped being killed by a hair
“Great Alastor, altruist, died for his friends”?
Sorry to disappoint… That was never the case!
I’m hungry for your gaze like never before
The constrains of our deal surely have your interest
Once I figure out how to hold your love tightly
Guess who will staying to help that hotel?!
The hotel was the cause of this. Yet he was the cause of your appearance because he wasn’t strong enough to handle Adam. He resented that fact, but his heart beat loudly when he replayed the scene where you fought him. Then that confession where you missed him, if it was any other time, he’d be over the moon hearing that
To him, it felt like an eternity before you woke up again and things were relatively back to normal. You stayed in the hotel with him, you were by his side, you were portrayed to be his assistant, you were his (in his mind). Then the others found out about you. Lucifer was enough of a pain, now there was more
Still, it was worth seeing that you weren’t quick to warm up to them. He took 7 years and then some, why would they be unique? Not to mention they don’t care for you like he does. He was the unique one
Oh, then Mimzy. That demon he thought was his friend. He didn’t care much for her harsh words, not when you were there to push it all away. It was crushing to hear it, the unfiltered thoughts Mimzy talked about him to you. Yet that look on your face was odd, were you feeling angry on his behalf? For him?
He thought that you would tell Mimzy off then when you leave, he’ll have a word with Mimzy. If you didn’t like her then maybe a new voice on the broadcast would do. You never minded his ways of punishing those you are displeased with, so it was fine
What he didn’t expect was you scolding Mimzy, giving her a piece of your mind. You defended him, you cared about him. Surely you did. Why else were you that aggressive?
“What was that?”
“I said, I love you!”
Alastor couldn’t stop himself and asked you, he told himself he was dreaming. He thought he was when you disappeared in the blink of an eye. But the look he got from the residents in the lobby proved otherwise. First thing’s first. He snapped his fingers and had Mimzy devoured by his shadows, it was a minor torture, he’ll get to the fun part later
Now you had his attention
When he appeared in your shared room, you were all wrapped up in your fluffy blanket in the corner of the bed. Despite his joy and excitement, he dialed it down. You come first, just hearing those words from your sweet lips was enough
“My Darling,” Alastor took a seat on the bed, next to you. “If it was the slip of a tongue, I can forget about it.” He’s lying and he knows you know it, still you’d lie to yourself until it was true. For him, just knowing you care for him so is enough. “You have done nothing that I know of. You have confirmed nothing.”
Perhaps it was because he was accepting that he needs to forget it all and act the same, or that it was giving you your space. Either way, he didn’t react when you suddenly moved and pinned him down to the bed. His eyes wide while his smile spread wider, this position is perfect, your face above him that he could stare at forever and never get bored.
When his mind matched what happened, his eyes drooped and his ears twitched, his smile shrank a bit and his hands reached for you, wanting to pull you in. You let him and he hugged you, placing your ear to his beating heart then he hugged onto your waist.
“Don’t you dare forget about it.” Your words pierced the silence, he could feel his heart beating louder. “Remember it. Engrave it into your mind, body, and soul.” Your head shifted and you got up a bit, you moved so close to his lips. When you weren’t talking, all he could hear was the beating of his heart. “Never betray my love, Alastor.”
A sweet moment where you two shared a kiss. Finally.
“Yes. Of course. Absolutely. My Darling Love.”
You were all his to call Love.
Note: Surprise!!! We really never had a part that's dedicated to Alastor, so here's one. I think it's a bit rushed at the end or lack of details, but those are mostly covered in the parts before this. Hope you guys liked this one~
Oh right! If you haven't please vote on what will happen next here. There might be one more part before it gets to that. Idk the progress.
*For the people that haven't got a reply to this series' requests; 2 possibilities: either I need time writing them or they would be included in future parts and I don't want to spoil them as trivia~
Circe Y.
Other Works: MASTERLIST
Taglist:
@aconfusedwonderland @crowleysthings @donustellaron @mistpurpl3 @nevermore-ramblings @justboredforreal @youroneandonlysimp @falsemain @scenteddelusion5 @anni1600 @readergirlstuff @salutations-demonsanddappers @mistpurpl3 @haruskrd @biadoll21 @speedycoffeedelight @wendds @paninibit @emperatris-rinaka
#Circe's Nighty Writings#alastor imagine#alastor x reader#alastor x y/n#alastor x you#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor headcanons#hazbin hotel fanfiction#alastor#hazbin hotel oneshots#yandere alastor#yandere alastor x reader#yandere hazbin hotel#alastor fanfiction#hazbin hotel imagines#Unwanted Soul
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PREV: #002 PLAYING DOMINO 𖧧 #003 THE FIRST RIPPLE 𖧧 NEXT: #004 THIS SPARK, IS IT REAL? ꒰ series masterlist ꒱
꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ — ever since the first meeting, you’ve proven to be an anomaly. and yet again, sae finds himself out of character, doing things he didn’t think he would.
content: itoshi sae x female reader. angst/fluff, profanity, physical/verbal abuse, violence, mentions of infidelity, broken homes, unrequited love, manipulation/gaslighting. word count: 6.7k
༝༚༝༚ more yn and sae for this chapter yay !! ty to all of you who are reading this heh mwah you guys are my motivation <3 let’s hope i keep this pace up so some of you can get the tea faster :p
somehow, the fact that you’d managed to help land an interview with itoshi sae has given you some perks at work. (you’d let sumi take the credit for it, but considering your voice is on the recording, it was hard to deny your involvement.) the best of it all? sumi’s right; mr tatsuji is so absolutely pleased that he barely bothers to visit your department to chide any of you.
that way, at least if your personal life is a mess, your career is not. (for now.)
after three days of staying over at eita’s, you’re finally lugging your feet back home today. besides, he has a date and you’re not about to play third wheel when he inevitably comes home with her.
that’s otoya eita for you.
he insisted that it’s fine and if he really wanted to get some that he’d bring her to a hotel, but you’d really rather not get used to putting up at someone else’s house. especially when, technically, you do have a place to stay.
as you unwillingly (and slowly, painachingly) trudge back to your apartment, you can’t help but revisit your messages with sae. ever since you told him you’d let him follow you if he made a private account, he hasn’t responded since.
were you just in over your head? maybe he was just bored and was passing time by texting you. maybe he didn’t really mean it. maybe someone else took his phone and texted you just to make fun of you.
time to time, you still think of the night you met, how his eyes fluttered close, how he stayed rooted in position, how you would’ve actually done it out of curiosity if it wasn’t for the fact that it was a public place with cameras littering every few inches of space.
you sigh, locking your phone and tossing it back in your purse. in the end, maybe itoshi sae really is just someone for you to admire from afar. maybe that’s for the best; you can’t imagine how it’d even feel like dating someone who has such a big spotlight cast on him.
the evening air is chilly, the lights of the nearby shopping mall a warm golden, the sea of people walking past you soon to drown out. if you didn’t know better, you’d think you’re living a privileged life—being able to live in such a nice district, with a better-than-average apartment that had been fully paid for since you were born. and if life had been kind to you, then maybe you’d like living at home more than you do now.
but as it is, going home only serves as a reminder to all your problems. unescapable, unavoidable, unbearable. and maybe it’s not such a good move for you to depend on eita a lot to be your escape, to help you forget about all of it, at least when you’re with him, but you can’t help it. escapism feels nice. it’s nice to be around someone who knows about it and still accepts you, even though you and him don’t see eye to eye about it most of the time.
your stomach’s growling, and the macarons at the bakery’s display that you walk past are both nostalgic and tempting. but you can’t afford that.
something as simple as a box of macarons.
hang in there for the long term, you tell yourself. one day, you’ll get everything back.
not ten minutes later, you’re at your own doorstep, hesitating to even enter. through the door you can hear the sound of the television. it’s loud and playing some drama that always airs at this timing. you’ve heard the same voices so many times before.
it’s funny to think that these sounds used to feel like home to you.
either way, you have to get this over and done with, so you slot your key in and walk through the door, carefully toeing off your shoes as though being quiet would make you escape her notice.
“and where did you go off to the last few days? can’t even come home and be a dutiful daughter and eat with her own mother?”
it hasn’t even been five seconds.
all that ever awaits you at home now is the vile spit of your mother’s. it’s laughable because all she says is nonsense. you haven’t eaten on the same table together in years, even if you have been living under the same roof.
some part of you can’t help but be defiant. you know it’s a bad idea, but she’s out of line, and yet you’re still helping her. and you can’t figure out why.
“how about you be a dutiful mother and stop spending all your daughter’s money and go find a job?”
there’s a sharp sound that bounces off the walls of the living room quicker than you can expect it, and it takes you five seconds and the sting on your cheek to realise your mother had just slapped you with all her might.
not an ounce of hesitation or regret. there is only fury in her eyes as she looks down at you, summoning every bit of disdain she can muster.
of course, how could you forget? this is what you get for talking back to her. it’s been a while since she’d last laid a hand on you, so maybe you’d gotten cocky, thinking she wouldn’t do it again.
“is this all you’re good for? you’re not using that filthy mouth to jack people off so you’re using it to spite me?”
there’s a lot you want to say.
you want to talk back to her again, to say that she’s the useless one out of the two of you. the one who doesn’t work yet gambles all day. the one who spent all the savings and insurance money so she’s fully depending on you month to month.
you want to tell her that you’re not some whore who goes around fucking everyone you see. she always hated eita, but that’s because he knows she’s no good. that’s also why you never tell him if she lays her hand on you. you don’t want to get them into any altercations. you also want to tell her eita’s taken better care of you than she ever has, and you don’t even have to jack him off for it.
but you stay silent.
because silence is the most comfortable you can get with her. no matter what you say or do, it will never suffice for her. she wants money, and she’s only angry because you haven’t been home to give it to her. it’s why you lock your own door every time you head out or go to sleep. you don’t want to find your own belongings gone by the time you’re back. neither do you want to find her snooping around your room in the middle of the night.
both of which have happened before.
taking advantage of your shock, she yanks your purse out of your hand, fishing for your wallet and grabbing all the cash she can find before tossing it back to you.
there’s no mercy in her eyes as she glares at her own daughter, the one she carried herself in her womb for nine whole months and once sworn to love. and now she blames the same little girl for ruining her body and refuses to take responsibility for her.
“listen, be a good girl and just give me what i ask for okay?” her tone is nothing but condescending and threatening. “if you’d just behave yourself, i wouldn’t have to do shit like that. think a little, would you?”
the demon that is your mother speaks as if you’re in the wrong, sighing to herself as she lights a cigarette and walks away, stuffing your hard-earned money in her purse before making for her room and slamming the door as she completely disposes of you for the day. she already got what she wanted, after all.
utterly defeated, you completely forget about your hunger, retreating into your room, locking the door behind you and falling to the floor. your vision blurs and your cheek still stings. you wonder if it’ll leave a mark like it did the last time.
your phone vibrates once.
blurry vision aside, you can tell it’s eita from the name alone. his talk to me if you need anything, okay? is bright on your phone screen, the only light in this room because you don’t have the energy to turn on the lights. you’re not feeling exceptionally hopeful today. the dark seems just right.
you’re thankful that you have a friend like him. you probably don’t deserve how nice he is to you. but you don’t want to talk to him. you don’t think you want to talk to anyone.
maybe just one person.
but he’s six foot under and inaccessible to you.
you’re not sure when you made it onto your bed—your head’s a mess. it always is when you speak to her. that’s why you scream into the pillow, willing your energy away, trying to drown your thoughts with your voice, dreaming of the day you can break free from this cycle.
thunder, pitter patter, raindrops against the windowsill.
the lightning helps you make out the time from the clock on the wall above your door.
1am. your lips are chapped and the tears are dry against your cheeks. you’d subconsciously slept on the right side, your left still aching from earlier.
slowly, you get up, legs crossed and sitting on your bed, your earlier distress dissipated just slightly, mind a little clearer. (and always questionable.) your phone’s dead and you honestly don’t really care—what you do care about is your stomach’s incessant growling.
it wouldn’t take a genius to know that your mother cleared out all the food in the kitchen. it looked barren earlier from what you could see, maybe just a couple slices of bread and some condiments. you wouldn’t want to start cooking in the middle of the night either, lest she wakes up and you have even more to deal with.
the rain starts to lighten up by the time you’re out of the house, comfortable in your oversized windbreaker. you walk slowly, your slides already soaked from walking in the rain. it’s a nice cooling temperature, the wind in your face making you feel refreshed, like everything that’s horrible could be just a dream.
if only.
a light ten-minute walk later, you’re browsing through the aisles of the convenience store, wondering which brand of processed food is worthy to be your dinner. you hover between the cup noodles on the shelves and the sandwiches in the chiller, taking your time because home is not a place you’re exactly aching to go back to.
can you even call it a home at this point?
eventually, you waltz out of there with a warm tub of noodles, palms relishing in its warmth and your nose inhaling every last bit of its aroma.
dinner could be better, but you suppose you can’t complain when you’re trying your best to save up. after all, it’ll be a pain if your mother figures out the stash of savings you’re hiding. the last thing you want is for her to steal that away from you. then how would you ever move out on your own?
shaking your head as you settle down on a park bench on the opposite side of the road, you decide to throw those thoughts aside for now. it’s not a current problem that you need to mull over right now and destroy your mood. no, right now, what you need is just a peaceful night.
what’s past (earlier) is past.
even though it’s easier said than done when your tears start flowing one by one, and suddenly these noodles are saltier than you remember.
“sure you can’t come?”
sae looks at bianca through the passenger side window, her pout ever present. “nah, i’m tired. besides, if i oversleep who’s gonna drive you to the airport, huh?”
bianca grins at him, seemingly pacified. she reaches a hand into the car, perfectly manicured nails in full view before she clenches it into a fist, holding just a pinky out. “promise you’ll see me off tomorrow?”
there’s something between the lines that sae doesn’t get, nor is he sure he wants to. in all honesty, he’s not even sure why a promise is wanted here but he sticks out his pinky all the same anyway, because he’s pretty sure he won’t miss the alarm when it rings.
“yay, see you!”
“see you,” sae echoes as she bounds towards her friend’s place, ready for a last night of catching up over a game of cards before she flies back to america. as she disappears from his view, he wonders why she even tried to invite him in the first place. they’re her friends, he’s not really needed there anyway.
tuning out of those thoughts, sae drives off, already planning the remainder of the night. it’s 1am, and it’ll be near two by the time he makes it back to his apartment. that leaves him around a six hour sleep before he has to get up and send bianca off.
now that he’s thinking about it, since when has it become routine for him to send her off every time?
before he can even gather his thoughts about it, he steps on the brakes abruptly, wondering what the hell is wrong with some people to not be looking at both sides of the road before they cross, nearly pressing on the honk before something tells him not to. it’s distracting; the fact that the passing silhouette looks familiar and yet not at all.
against his better judgement, he pulls over by the side of the road, deciding to trust his gut. it’s late at night and there’s no reason for it but is that really you sitting on a park bench eating cup noodles past one in the morning? alone?
sae steps out of the car, mask on, pulling his hat down and his hoodie over his head to conceal himself, though some might argue he looks like he’s about to kidnap someone like this. he’s painfully aware this is dumb, and there’s no point to this, because what if it is you? it’s not like he has any reason to talk to you.
he stops midway, checking his phone and scrolling to your messages, his okay still sitting in the text box, unsent. fuck, he didn’t even realise until now. it didn’t help that he had a hectic schedule back to back for the past few days either. he never got around to creating that private account. he’ll just have to do it later.
a fleeting thought comes to him, wondering if you thought he was just pulling your leg about wanting to follow you. sure seems like it to him.
but he continues walking towards that park bench, towards that girl he thinks might be you, without knowing whatsoever what his next move will be. all he knows is that if that really is you, he’d rather say hello than say nothing at all.
even if it means making a detour that would undoubtedly make him endlessly tired the next day. for some reason.
and call him crazy, but as he draws closer, even without seeing your face, he knows it’s you somehow.
there’s something off about you, he doesn’t know what it is yet, but he can feel it. maybe he’ll find out. maybe he’ll try.
“hey, rude girl.”
just by the way your body stiffens up, he knows you recognise his voice. you choke on your noodles, coughing a little and rubbing your face before you whip your head upwards to face him, your eyes going wide with surprise.
“itoshi sae?”
why doesn’t he like it when you call him by his full name? it sounds weird, but he keeps his mouth shut.
“what are you doing here? do you live in the area?” you ask, setting your almost-empty cup of noodle on the bench. your voice is a little hoarse than he remembers, and your eyes are slightly puffy. there’s a faint swollenness on your left cheek, something he can see you’re desperately trying to hide behind your hair. it’s not really working.
he shakes his head, hands in his jacket pocket. “no, i was just dropping my friend off.” his eyes shift from you to the noodles. “supper?”
sae notices your eyebrow twitch ever so slightly, your nostrils flaring a little before you grin at him. “yeah, i missed lunch so this is me making up for it,” you giggle, offering a thumbs up.
is it bad to say he doesn’t believe you? you’re alone in the middle of the night on a park bench eating instant noodles with a slightly swollen cheek. yet you’re in front of him acting like nothing’s wrong.
this is already far from what he’d usually do. if you were anyone else, he would’ve just drove past and forgotten in a few days that he ever saw them. but as it is, here he is, standing in front of you, car parked illegally by the curb, just to verify that it really is you for no apparent reason.
still, he’s glad he did. you look like you’ve gotten a year’s worth of bad news judging by the state you’re in. and sae usually doesn’t cater to people, expects people to tell him what they need, not make him guess, but he’s already guessing what you might need.
your stomach is still growling, though you’re trying to hide it by slumping on the bench, arms over your stomach. sae has no idea why you feel like you have to hide, or who probably slapped you in the first place, but he finds himself disposing of your noodles before he’s grabbing you gently by the hand, tugging you along with him.
“hey, uh, where are we going?”
despite your shallow hesitation, sae feels your fingers curl around his palm. his heart skips a beat. he stops in his tracks, turning back around to face you. there’s an inexplicable emotion stirring inside him when he looks into your eyes.
his free hand comes up to remove his cap, putting it over your head and pushing it down to fit better. he doesn’t have a mask for you, but it’ll do. something tells him you don’t really want other people to see your face right now. and while the circumstances are different, he supposes he understands how it feels.
maybe you think he’s doing this because he’d rather not be papped with a girl, rather not have any more dating rumours. he’ll let you keep thinking that. he’ll keep acting like he doesn’t see the wound you’re desperately trying to hide.
for now.
“i’m hungry, eat with me,” is all he tells you before he resumes dragging you along behind him, calloused hands wrapping over your own.
sae’s not hungry in the least. he’d eaten probably three meals worth of food with bianca before this since she’d dragged him to a korean barbecue joint.
but you’re hungry. you’re starving and you’re not acting like it and you don’t say a thing about it—he doesn’t really get you.
he wants to.
maybe that’s why he’s doing all this. maybe that’s why he lets you in his car, drives to an izakaya he knows all too well. maybe that’s why he keeps stealing glances at you in the car, and maybe that’s why he feels a little warm inside when he catches you smiling to yourself.
as you sit silently beside him as he drives, your fingers fiddle nervously with each other. never did you think that you’d end up in sae’s luxurious car tonight of all nights. as if it wasn’t apparent enough before, after seeing his car, this definitely looks like a life that’s far beyond your reach.
you wonder if sae is the type of person who likes cars. it’s never indicated anywhere if he is. you recognise the brand; you don’t know the exact model but it’s a maserati, wrapped a matte black, at that. the interior leather seats are comfortable, and his air freshener smells nice.
on top of that, he’s driving you to someplace because he’s hungry too. talk about luck and coincidence.
you were thinking of just taking a short walk before going back home, but you’d take his invitation over that any day. you’re not sure where he’s taking you, but your feet are tapping in anticipation, though you hope it’s not anywhere expensive because you’re definitely not dressed the part.
beside you, sae’s not exactly dressed in anything fancy, but with looks like that? he would look expensive dressed in anything.
“quit staring,” sae mumbles, and you hurriedly avert your gaze, embarrassed at getting caught although you snicker a little when you catch the hint of a blush creeping up his cheeks. “what are you laughing at?”
you try to suppress a grin, biting on your lower lip. “you’re not as uncaring as the internet makes you seem,” you ponder out loud.
sae accepts your train of thought. he’s well aware that’s how he comes off in real life too. “and?” it’s a red light so he stops the car, turning his head to look straight at you.
is he asking you what you think of him?
you feel your heart skip a beat. he’s pretty, and he’s staring at you with those clear teal eyes of his and it makes you want to drown in them for some reason. he’s not as unfeeling as he comes across, and for him to bother taking you with him just to eat must mean you don’t fall into the category of people he finds to be just a waste of time.
you want to know what this is.
“i don’t know, you’re like a cat,” you shrug, reverting back to your unserious self. “but i’ll let you know again once i get to know you better, itoshi sae.”
he looks away, the green light barely seeping through his windows. he doesn’t understand. “if you even get that far, that is.” (he likes how you already assume you’ll get to know him more. are you looking to spend more time with him?)
you grin, making an internal bet with yourself. “just you wait,” you tell him, confident in your abilities. “i have a habit of growing on people.”
(sae chuckles internally, because he doesn’t doubt you. you already are.)
“are you sure this place is open?” you ask, discreetly tapping lightly on your cheeks, deciding that maybe you look just fine now. and it doesn’t seem like there’s a soul here anyway.
once sae parks his car into the lot, you take his cap off and look around, the sleek stand-alone three-storey building looking completely closed on the outside. there’s no other cars parked here—surely they’re not still open?
sae takes his keys out of the ignition, stuffing it into his jacket pocket. he looks nonchalant for the most part. “don’t worry, i know the owner, let’s go.”
you shrug to yourself, placing his cap neatly on the dashboard before getting up. he waits and observes as you get out of his car, making sure you’re beside him before he starts walking towards the restaurant. you notice him matching your pace, with you shamelessly adjusting it just to check.
before he enters through the doors, he looks at you, “there’s no one else around. just the owner’s nephew who’ll be cooking for us.”
the shopkeeper’s bell chimes as he makes his way inside, holding the door for you, and you wordlessly enter, even though you’re wondering why he feels the need to tell you that. is it because you look like a mess and he thought you’d care?
it’s cosy and warm inside, classical music filling the air, every table wiped spotlessly clean that they’re shining as the lights from the ceiling bounce off of their surfaces. there’s nobody you can see here, are they in the kitchen?
sae puts his fingers around your wrist this time, walking you through the restaurant, meandering expertly like he’s been here a thousand times. your eyes fall to his fingers; they’re gentle yet firm, and you’re only hoping he doesn’t realise how fast your pulse is right now.
in the end, you find yourself seated across from him on a tatami seating in a private room, browsing through the menus that are already placed on the table.
“order anything you want,” sae says, not looking up from his menu.
you hum in excitement as you start to really look at all the options you have. “oh? if you say it like that i’m not gonna hold back, you know,” you joke around, though sae doesn’t really sense it.
he just shrugs, “sure, go ahead.”
sae ends up regretting it though, not because you’re shamelessly spending a lot on his card, but because he finds out you’re the type to over-order. by the time the food is all cooked and sent to the table, sae’s eyebrows twitch, eyes flicking over across the room to look at you, grinning from ear to ear.
“both of you must be starved, huh?”
you look to the side, only now noticing the guy in the white chef’s coat that came to deliver the food. he has curly light brown hair, with eyes a shade or two darker. a grin is plastered on his face, and by the way sae speaks to him, it seems like they know each other quite a fair bit.
“oh, by the way, this is naruhaya,” sae introduces to you, and the guy holds his hand out for you to shake. “this is y/n.”
“nice to meet you!”
naruhaya’s beaming, a contrast to sae’s usual stoic expressions, but he’s back to small talk with the latter in a second. you leave them to it, until your ears perk up when he mentions a certain model’s name.
“hey, weren’t you with bianca earlier? where’s she?”
bianca—that name isn’t unfamiliar to you. after a crash course from sumi (because somehow she decided you need to know more gossip about itoshi sae after getting to know him in person), you had learned that she’s the model that sae is most rumoured to actually be with. and you’ve seen her from the pictures sumi shoved up your neck—she’s beautiful.
was she the friend he was dropping off earlier?
“meeting her other friends. anyway, sorry to keep you open.”
naruhaya waves it off with his hand. “it’s fine, i was gonna stay and try to whip up some new recipes anyway,” he says, before shooting you a knowing look. what exactly it means, you have zero idea. “i’ll leave you two to it, enjoy!”
once he leaves, you begin to dig in, lathering your meat with sauce, unashamedly inhaling your food because that earlier stint with your mother was entirely too much and you need to destress.
somehow, with sae being as nice as he is, you feel a teeny bit guilty for trying to dupe him into that interview. but you doubt that if you’d asked him normally that you would be here with him tonight so maybe there’s some merit in being reckless like that.
“what’re you smiling about now?” sae sighs, taking a piece of meat and putting it over his rice. “pleased that you’re getting a free meal or something?”
partly. but mostly, you’re pleased that you get alone time with him somehow. maybe it’s stupid, and maybe you sound like half of the female population in the country, but you can see why people ogle over him. if they got to know him like this, then you’d have no doubt that he’d manage to charm their pants off.
though, something tells you he doesn’t treat people like this often, let alone someone he barely knows.
“mhm,” you agree, shit-eating grin on your face because there’s no way you’re going to be so upfront about it. the last thing you want is to ruin a friendship when it’s barely started.
yeah, maybe that’s what you want—friendship. is it weird if you say that itoshi sae gives you the feeling that you can trust him? the last time someone made you feel that way was eita. but somehow, this time, it feels different in a way you can’t explain.
as you’re both digging in, you ask him whatever you’re curious about; how he got into soccer, what his life was like growing up, everything under the sun, only because he entertains you like he did that very first night.
“you ask a lot of questions, are you gonna ask me to get another interview approved or something?” he asks, deadpan as he slurps up the soba.
you chuckle, shaking your head. “no. i just want to know you.”
sae stills at your honesty, this being one of the rare times you’re wearing your heart on your sleeve. thump, thump, thump—it’s weird how you make him so aware of his heartbeats when you’re with him. it’s weird how he feels the same way.
then, he sees a familiar sight, you reaching your hand out across the table, your pinky pointed towards him. “i promise you, no hidden agendas this time.”
he swallows the lump in his throat, hooking his pinky with yours before he knows it, the inexplicable emotions only growing by the second.
even though he’s curious about you too, something tells him that you won’t answer him seriously. not tonight. so he keeps it to himself. he’ll find a chance to ask you next time.
if there is a next time.
he’ll just have to make it happen.
halfway through the dinner, you have about a quarter of the food left and sae looks like he’s about to burst. he didn’t really look hungry to you, eating slowly all the way. you probably ate at least twice as much as he did.
“you sure you were hungry?”
“not anymore,” sae deflects, putting his chopsticks down. he looks at you, leaning back and staring at the leftovers in awe. he almost snorts from how dazed you look. “i’ll get naruhaya to pack these, wait here.”
“thanks,” you call after him, knowing just how much of a food coma you’re going to be in once you’re back home.
sae stares at his phone as he navigates through the corridors to find the kitchen; it’s already 2.30am. time passes really fast with you for some reason. usually it’s a bore to sit with people he barely knows, they normally can’t keep a conversation. either that or he doesn’t really click with them. (as evident in the many times he was put in the same room with friends of friends and all that was there is awkward silence and forced conversations.)
not you though.
you’ve always been interesting. you’re intriguing, and a little bit more daring than he’s used to. you’re not that shy, by what he could tell when you so effortlessly reached across the table and snapped a picture of the both of you eating, telling him you want to give him something to remember you by.
as if that’s your last meeting.
he looks at the picture in his photo album. a subtle smile tugs on his lips, and there’s a flutter in his heart that he can’t seem to ignore.
maybe he’s jumping the gun but… he thinks you could be worth any amount of sleep he’s going to lose.
naruhaya enters the private room alone, armed with takeaway boxes, and you smile sheepishly at him as he does. sae must be in the bathroom if he’s here alone.
“sorry, i think i ordered a little too much,” you apologise, rubbing the back of your head. “but it’s all really delicious, really.”
it really is. you’ve never had meat so tender before, and you’re almost sad thinking you’ll probably never get to eat this again. not with the price tag on it.
“relax, i believe you,” naruhaya hums as he carefully places the leftovers in boxes. “so, how’d you get to know sae? photoshoot?”
you narrow your gaze at him, pressing your lips into a faint smile. “if you’re trying to flatter me, it’s working,” you joke, before shaking your head. “no, no, i’m not a model. i’m just a friend of a friend.”
naruhaya blinks at you like he’s surprised. “whose?”
“eita. otoya eita. why?”
“oh, it’s nothing. just… surprised sae brought another girl here for once,” naruhaya laughs nervously, packing the boxes into a clear bag. “usually it’s either oliver and gang or, well, bianca. but i haven’t seen her here in a while, actually.”
you get the feeling that sae and bianca are really, really close.
“i think he just came here on a whim,” you brush it off. “we only met a week ago so i doubt you’ll see me here again anyway.”
naruhaya’s mouth forms an ‘o’, before it reverts back to that knowing smile again. both of you hear footsteps against the wooden floors of the izakaya, so naruhaya takes this chance to whisper in your ear.
“i think… you must be pretty special then, huh?”
before you can even ask him what he means by that, sae strolls through the door, oblivious to the earlier conversation, gaze pointed to you. “ready to go?”
you nod, taking the bags from naruhaya as sae escorts you out of there. “bye, naruhaya! i love your cooking!”
he laughs as you wave enthusiastically to him, and he winks at you right before sae turns around to look at him. “oi, sae, bring her over anytime, okay?” to which sae only waves it off, leaving you to wonder if you’ll ever actually see naruhaya again.
“you keep those,” sae tells you after the both of you get into his car, referring to the takeaway boxes. he’d told naruhaya to give you some extra meat, just in case. if he remembered right, eita once said you have quite the appetite.
he pulls out of the parking lot after you give him your address, driving the speed limit all the way back. he’s honestly kind of tired, and he can see that you are too. won’t hurt to make it back a little quicker than you came.
“sure you don’t want some?”
“i’m fine, i’ll be busy for the next week or so anyway. i won’t even be home.”
there’s a hint of disappointment in your chest when you hear that, though you chide yourself for your wishful thinking. what makes you think you can run into a celebrity so easily anyway if he is in japan?
“oh, you’re gonna be away? try not to miss me.”
sae chuckles, softly, at the way you can be so unserious—it’s something you hear for the first time, and you feel the flutters in your heart going wild. there’s something about the way he looks so gentle like this, away from the cameras and the public eye that makes him so much more alluring than usual.
“i’ll try,” he says, though you know he’s just playing along.
usually, you don’t feel this type of way around people. you’ve never felt like this before so you can’t even think of ways to explain it. as you sit in the passenger seat, you can’t help but feel a certain attachment growing. it makes you think foolish things like i want to see you again and wonder about even sillier things like would you want to see me too?
but you’d never actually tell him that.
when your apartment comes into view, you grab at his cap on the dashboard, putting it on your head yourself this time, looking into the side mirror. “hm, think this looks better on me, what do you think?”
sae’s a little stunned at the sudden question. you have a way of making him exasperated—in all the good ways. “wanna keep it?” he’s guessing that’s where you’re headed. not that he minds.
“oooh, then maybe i get to sell it for a buttload of money. especially when i tell people it belonged to you,” you smirk, and sae finds himself wondering why your guard is up so high.
he starts driving a little slowly, starting to feel the reluctance brewing inside him. “it’s yours now, do whatever you want with it.” he knows you’re not actually going to sell it anyway. he might not have known you for long, but he thinks you’re not that kind of person.
he’ll bet on it.
you don’t say anymore about it, and he catches you with a blank stare straight ahead, aimed at your apartment.
does it have something to do with your family? was that why you were unhappy earlier?
sae can’t shake the feeling of wanting to know more about you. but you snap back to your usual self before he can do anything about it.
“anyway! don’t worry about tonight, i won’t tell a soul that a superstar like you took a nobody like me out for a romantic supper in a private room,” you tell him, winking as you place your hands on the door handle, ready to go.
sae nearly laughs. “can’t you say thank you like a normal person?” because by now, the both of you are comfortable enough to understand that nothing is ever said in hostility. you take it as his banter.
somehow, your hand finds itself back onto your lap, and the words haven’t left your lips. there’s no music in the car, so it’s just you and sae and the air between you, a tension looming in the air that you can’t ignore. there’s just silence as you observe him from your position, your head inching closer, ever so slowly it feels like you’re not even moving at all. you can see how sae’s gaze flickers from your eyes to the tip of your nose and then to your lips, and you think of how he looks almost like he did that night when you got close to him.
except this time, you’re really tempted. you’re alone, just the both of you, and he’s been really nice and you’re really tempted to feel how soft those lips are and what he tastes like. but that’s too much, and yet somehow his eyes feel like they’re telling you different. would he mind?
your fingers pull the cap down from your head, covering both your faces as there’s barely any space between you now.
maybe just something tame.
in one swift motion, your lips press against his cheek, a hurried thank you rolling off your tongue before you bolt out of the car and back to your apartment, hoping that sae doesn’t think you’re a complete psycho for doing that.
back in the car, sae freezes in position even after you’ve long vanished from his sight. his heart’s still beating wildly in his chest and he wonders what the hell just happened.
and then he finds himself questioning when it could happen again.
why does he want it to happen again?
before he starts the drive back, he does three things.
one, he fishes his phone out of his pocket and creates that account he forgot about. two, he sends you a follow request because he doesn’t think he can handle this curiosity anymore. and three, he opens your messages, breathing shallow as he tries to make plans for the first time.
an hour later, after you’re showered and your heart has calmed down, you check your phone, charged to full now on your bedside table. there’s a few messages from sumi and eita that you missed since it had been dead since before you left the house, and then your heart skips a beat when you realise that sae’s name is there as well.
for the first time in a long time, you go to bed feeling like a giggly high school girl who’s been asked out by her crush. and for the first time in forever, sae receives your message and finds that he can’t sleep now—wondering why he felt so relieved to finally get a text back, and wondering what this frantic rush of his heart really means.
extras !
no, sae did not get up late to meet bianca the next day. he did look extremely tired though, which made her suspicious and ask why—sae did not reveal anything, just said he couldn’t sleep. partly true.
sae was right; if he’d asked yn about herself that night (particularly anything pertaining to her family), she wouldn’t have answered seriously. there’s a reason why she won’t so easily divulge her family issues & doesn’t want sae to know about it.
yn genuinely believes that sae did not notice anything off about her and that he honestly thought she was fine.
otoya did end up bringing his date to a hotel. after she fell asleep, otoya went out to the balcony to call yn and make sure she’s okay since she wasn’t responding.
yn’s mother knows that yn and otoya used to fuck (and still thinks they are), and that’s why she used her choice of words “jacking people off”. she has been treating yn like that for the past few years.
random fact #1: otoya used to purposely get yn in trouble all the time in school so that they could spend time in detention together. that’s how they started getting close.
random fact #2: sae has, in his head, considered being together with bianca before because the guys asked him about it.
taglist! @yuzurins @saeskiss @raphsimp @lust4rin @mxplesyrvp @chieeeeeee @yumekolovesyukimiya @kunirayuna39 @auranny @sereniteav @gskill @saesgrl @riseena @rikijbol @sagejin @shironagi
#bllk x reader#sae x reader#itoshi sae x reader#blue lock x reader#sae x y/n#bllk x y/n#bllk x you#sae x you#itoshi sae x you#itoshi sae x y/n#itoshi sae#itoshi sae fluff#blue lock x you#blue lock x y/n#bllk imagines#itoshi sae imagines#૪ aeri’s fics !
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codename: nightingale - usual suspects
Reference: Young Justice Season 1 Episode 25
WC: 7.4k
synopsis: fuck cadmus tbh, robin needs to work on his timing, kaldur’s got birdy’s back, and roy finally gets what he wanted
main masterlist
codename: nightingale series masterlist
a/n: guys, there's only one more in the season after this. i cannot belive my little hyperfixation fic of pure self-indulgence has come this far. i love you all so much and your support means so much, especially when i know that i go months without posting but you all come back so excited with each update! xoxo
WASHINTON, D.C.December 30th, 09:16 EST
You were all in the Hall. The mega screen before you shows the official Justice League Induction and announcement playing on every news channel. Wally and Dick were standing on either side of you, and all of you had your eyes glued to the screen.
“The Justice League was formed for two reasons: first, as an acknowledgment that no single individual, no matter how powerful, can solve all the world's problems alone. And second, to uphold the values of truth, liberty, and justice,” Superman was making the announcement this year. Usually, it was him or Wonder Woman, seeing as the Bat didn’t exactly exude charming. “That, uh, last one's even in the name,” Superman muses, gaining a few laughs from the crowd before him. “These five heroes have sworn to uphold those values,” he continues, and the camera pans over Doctor Fate, Plastic Man, the Atom, Icon, and finally, Red Arrow.
Your lip quirks a bit as you stare at Roy. he had sent you a message this morning, reminding you that you could be standing with him today, but you had just laughed and mused that with how badly he’d wanted this, it’s surprising anyone else can stand up there with him, never mind you, who would undoubtedly steal the spotlight. You were happy for him, you were, but you were also bummed. You all had just gotten into a groove with Roy on the Team, even if it was only for a few missions, and once again, he was gone.
“You are watching live coverage of the Justice League's induction of its five newest members,” Cat Grant’s voice pulls your focus back to the News. “Looks like the entire League has shown up to welcome the new blood. Everyone from Batman to Captain Marvel!” she exclaims.
“I’m glad they didn't kick Billy out,” Wally decides, and you can’t help but nod. Dinah had mentioned briefly that there had been a chance he wouldn’t be. “And I love the fact there's a ten-year-old on the League,” he says, taking a bite of his apple.
Dick hangs his head, and you see Kaldur turn toward your redheaded best friend while the new girl, Raquel, turns to you all, “There is?” she asks.
You elbow Wally squarely between his ribs, and he hunches over, “Ow, Birdy!” he groans.
“Way to keep a secret, genius,” you scoff, glaring at him through your blacked-out lenses.
“Hey, she's on the Team now, right?” Wally defends, one arm rubbing at his side while he eats his apple.
“Is this going to be a regular thing, you just blurt out secrets whenever we get new people?” you ask.
Wally has the audacity to look affronted, “I don’t-“
“You told me about the Watchtower,” Zatanna cuts in before he can say anything else, and you snort.
Wally retorts by taking another bite of his apple and glaring at you.
Everyone’s attention shifts back to the screen, “Superman is now handing out official League membership cards starting with Doctor Fate…” You and Dick both step forward briefly to squeeze Zatanna’s shoulder in solidarity, something she smiles gently in response to, and you can feel the comfort she takes from the action in the seconds you’re touching. “…The Atom, Plastic Man, and Icon.”
“You know, I was the one who convinced Icon to become a hero in the first place. I should be celebrating with him, not hidden away in here!” Raquel complains, and you bite your lip to keep from laughing.
“Welcome to our world,” Kaldur laments.
“Well, I suppose there's an upside, too,” Raquel flirts as she eyes Kaldur. Quietly to Rob, you roll your eyes and fake a gag, which gets a silent chuckle out of him.
“Finally, Green Arrow welcomes his former protege, Speedy, now known as Red Arrow, to this roster of heroes,” Cat’s voice continues, but it’s quickly drowned out by your cheers.
“Way to go, Roy!” Wally shouts, pumping a fist in the air.
“At last, he has his wish,” Kaldur nods.
“Woohoo!” you exclaim, smiling at the screen. “The first of us to make it,” you breathe.
“No one'll call him a sidekick anymore,” Dick nods.
“Wait- Since when is being a sidekick a bad thing?” Raquel demands, and you can feel the twinge in the air. “You sidekicks were my inspiration.”
“Well, see, six months ago-“ Robin explains, but he’s quickly cut off when his communicator starts to beep.
You hover over his shoulder to look at what he’s looking at and can’t help but frown. In the background, however, you can hear as Cat Grant finishes her report, “So there you have it. The world's officially a safer place!”
There are tons of questions being shot out to Superman, who was still running the press conference.
“Looks like we can’t stay,” you announce, and everyone turns to you.
“We have a mission,” Robin tacks on, and the shift is evident as we all turn to the Zeta.
SMOKEY MOUNTAINS
December 30, 10:48 EST
“Are you sure it's her? I mean, are you absolutely positive?” Artemis asks, and it’s easy to pick up on her anxiety in the enclosed space of the bioship.
After the alert, you quickly got to the cave and changed before loading onto the bioship. The alert in question had been about a Cheshire spotting. After everything that’s happened in the last few months, especially in Taipei and then again in Louisiana, catching her was a top priority for the team.
“See for yourself,” Robin says, displaying the details on the screens in the bioship.
“This is the security footage from the Asheville Regional Airport. Facial recognition confirms that's Jade Nguyen,” you explain, having witnessed the details when they first came through Robin’s wrist computer. “But you've seen her without her mask. What do you think?”
Artemis stares at the screen for a second before her lips tug down, “It's Jade. Cheshire,” she confirms.
“Agreed, but focus on what she carries,” Aqualad hints. “Is that the case you saw in New Orleans? The one that got away?” He asks.
Artemis’ eyes harden, and her jaw sets, “Yes.”
“Okay, I'm guessing from the mug shot that this Cheshire's the bad guy. But what's so important about that case?” Rocket asks.
You have to bite back the urge to say you mean other than the fact that we fumbled the ball and lost it? Luckily, Robin speaks up first.
“Remember the Injustice League?” he asks, pulling up a photo of your friends from the bayou.
“And their giant evil plants? Uh, yeah,” Rocket confirms.
“Evil and Nasty plants,” you mutter lowly, glaring at the photo.
“The Team and the League put them in prison, but their allies still scheme, and whatever is in that containment case seems important to their plans,” Aqualad explains.
“We had a chance to grab it in New Orleans, but someone-“ Wally tacks on, but you interrupt him with a glare that he seems to miss as he focuses on Artemis.
“But we screwed up,” you correct. It was a team mission and the team’s attitudes and environment that culminated in what had happened. You weren’t going to place the blame squarely on Artemis.
Wally’s eyes dart to you, and you quirk a brow challengingly. He, in turn, scoffs and turns back to face the front instead.
“Approaching Cheshire's jet,” M’gann announces.
Everyone’s focus turns to the front, but when you get close enough, you let out a low gasp, and a wave of shock rolls over everyone at the scene of the downed plane. The crash had evidently been rough, but it’s a sharp note of grief that hits you that has you turning to Artemis, who is resolutely not staring at the crash anymore.
“Looks like there were no survivors,” M’gann notes, and your lips tug down as you try to assess the scene from the air.
“We need to go down,” you decide.
“NG-“ Wally’s scoff has everyone turning to you for an explanation.
“We need to check the wreckage,” you state.
“Are you serious?” Rocket asks, eyebrows raised.
“Cheshire and the case are our responsibilities, we check the wreckage,” you affirm.
It’s quiet for a moment before Kaldur speaks up, “open the hatches,” he agrees, and Wally lets out a puff of air, shaking his head, but stands up regardless.
M’gann opens a few drop hatches for those who can’t fly while the rest go ahead.
Soon enough, you’re spread out through the crash, analyzing anything you could find and looking for any indication that Cheshire was still in the plane when it went down or the case itself.
“How come Homeland Security and the N.T.S.B. Aren't all over this?” KF shouts, asking anyone.
“Cheshire's ID was a League alert,” you answer from where you’re crouched near the front of the plane, grabbing the black box and tossing it to Rob.
“Authorities didn't pick it up, and her jet didn't follow its flight plan,” Robin supplied.
“Flew under the radar, literally,” you note, standing back up.
“The Watchtower auto-tracked the jet and recorded the crash,” Robin continued.
“Then why isn't the League here?” Rocket pressed.
“Because our Boy Wonder has hacking skills and arranged to get the alert first,” Zatanna smirked. “Well that, and because Nightingale said to make it so,” she teases, gaining an eye roll from you.
“And because Cheshire and that case represent our unfinished business,” Aqualad corrects.
Superboy moves another part of the plane before asking the question that everyone had been wondering, “Where are the bodies?”
“Here's one. And it is stunning….” a voice all but purrs, grabbing everyone’s attention.
You can’t tell if you’re relieved or annoyed that Cheshire is standing tall, all in one piece, but you’re positive that this was the best outcome you could’ve hoped for, at least you were until the next voice pipped up.
“I am flora, not fauna,” the voice begins, and your gaze shifts as you spot the camouflaged ninjas along the mountainside. “I am foliage, not trees,” it continues, and your gaze keeps moving up, counting the adversaries before stopping on the man in green. “What am I?” The Riddler possesses his question, and you spot Shimmer and Mammoth behind him, too. He snaps his fingers, and suddenly, pylons are popping up from under the snow, and you groan at the realization.
Within seconds everyone is trapped underneath a green dome, “Seriously? A trap? We’re idiots,” you huff, soft enough for only Dick to hear, and he just shakes his head.
“Come on, you can get this. I am shrubbery, not grass. What am I?” The Riddler urges. “I…
“Am bush,” Robin grits, and you don’t hold back the groan that escapes this time.
“Didn't you think we'd be tipped you were on Cheshire's trail?” Riddler asked. “We're tired of your interference, kiddies. This is the end game. Ordered from above and executed by their master strategist, moi.”
You can’t help but roll your eyes. There was something about Riddler that screamed Narcissistic Personality Disorder, but that could be something you picked up from Dinah’s files.
“Miss Martian, is everyone linked?” Aqualad asks, and the second you hear him, your hands reach back to your back holster, fingers wrapping around your escrima sticks.
“Yes,” she confirms, and you make brief eye contact with Dick, tilting your head slightly to indicate a direction. He responds with the same small action in confirmation.
“Go!” Aqualad orders, and everyone splits up.
Zatanna makes her move first while you and Dick rush up behind and around her, “Ekahs siht ebolgwons!” (shake this snowglobe) she chants. Within your pylon-ed dome, snow flurries, creating an excellent interference from any direct attack.
The rest of the team jumps into action, using the moment of surprise and confusion to take on the ninjas.
You’ve just knocked one down when Aqualad speaks up again, “Superboy, the pylons,” he orders, and you risk a glance toward your friend with the S.
“Working on it,” he announces out loud, and you focus back on the enemies before you.
“KF-- cradle?” you inquire as you run up, behind Wally.
“Ready,” he confirms, turning and dropping down, proffering his hands.
You run up and, with no hesitation, step into Wally’s grip. He’s pushing your body up a second later, giving you enough air to wail your escrima sticks down on the underprepared shadow. It’s reassuring that Wally will always have your back, even in disagreements. As he falls, knocked out, you quickly scan the rest of the battle and manage to spot as Rocket gets hit.
“Rocket’s down, she needs an assist K, and we’ve got a Shadow two tiers up, with some sort of electric disk device, looks like fatherbox tech to me,” you inform the team.
Robin quickly gets up, knocks out the Shadow, and Kaldur moves for the disk. You almost move to help him when you spot a Shadow coming up behind him, but you see M’gann moving in. You turn back to take on another Shadow, this time with Dick at your back fighting his own, but you see it when Conner launches into the air. You’re waiting for gravity to start pulling him back, but it doesn’t.
“That’s impossible,” you note as you use the electricity feature on a Shadow, who then crumples at your feet.
Robin turns his head, and his eyes widen as he stares at what you are.
“SB, you're flying!” he gasps, and your eyes widen too when you catch him using heat vision a moment later.
In his rage, he seems to miss the results of his attack. Your gaze drops, and you can see the top of Artemis’ head.
“Avalanche!” you shout into the link, hoping she’d cleared out of the way in time. You really weren’t trying to relive the Arctic in the real world. It’s silent for a moment, and then your anxiety takes over, “ARTEMIS!” you’re screaming into the link.
“I’m alright!” she confirms, and you let out a breath.
Rob taps your shoulder and gestures up to where Riddler’s still standing, and you nod. The two of you make your way up, targeting Shimmer and effectively knocking her out cold with a mix of a smoke grenade, Robin’s bola, and your well-aimed punch.
With Riddler’s focus on you and Rob, Zatanna floats behind him as the smoke clears, “Tekcajtiarts!” (straightjacket!) she announces, and Riddler’s suddenly restrained, unable to get free.
“No!” he shouts. “I am not the straightjacket type! I am strictly Belle Reve not Arkham!” Riddler argues.
Zatanna huffs out a, “Gag mih!” (gag him!) effectively silencing the Riddler's little tirade.
“Hey Rob, what is broken when you name it?” you ask, a shit-eating grin on your face as you crouch down beside Riddler, who only glares at you in return.
“Silence,” Robin smirks, earning Edward Nigma’s ire.
“Hguone htiw eht ebolgwons,” (enough with the snowglobe) Zatanna’s shout echos’s across the mountain, and suddenly the snow stops.
You all quickly work on the remaining pylons before loading the bioship with Nigma and the captured Shadows.
“Cheshire?” you ask out loud.
“Gone,” Artemis confirms.
“From you? Again?” Wally challenges. “That’s like the third-“
“Enough,” Kaldur cuts in quick. “We need to drop these prisoners off at Belle Reve and return to the Cave, I imagine, the League will want a debrief and an explanation.”
“I guess it’s a good thing, I got the case, though,” Artemis adds, and you can’t help but smile at her.
MOUNT JUSTICEDecember 30, 15:45 EST
You felt like he was staring right at you. Given the whiteouts of his mask, Batman could be glaring at any of you, “Tell me if this sounds familiar. You hacked League systems, disobeyed protocol, and endangered your lives,” he pauses.
You have to fight the wince when you catch Dinah’s eye. She’s standing behind Batman with Red Tornado and Martian Man-Hunter, and she’s got an eyebrow quirked as she stares straight at you.
“And your initiative resulted in the capture of three escaped felons proving Warden Strange runs Belle Reve as a cover for criminal activity…. Well done,” he affirms, and you let out a small breath, gaze darting over to Robin, who quirks his lips in a small smile, one you match.
“And then there's this,” he adds, forcing your attention back as he and Icon approach the case that Artemis had recovered, “Bio-technology integrated with some form of nano-circuitry.”
“Though I am unfamiliar with the species, the bio-component is clearly not of Earth,” Icon confirms.
“We'll take it to the Watchtower for further study,” Batman decides, and the Leaguers head back toward the Zeta.
Canary lingers before walking over to you, mostly everyone else disperses, but you can feel Wally and Kaldur behind you, and Dick’s still at your side.
“I get the feeling that this decision was not made on your own?” she inquires, staring at you.
“I have a team,” you reply loftily. “I don’t have to make these decisions on my own.”
“No, you don’t,” she smiles gently at you, running a hand across your cheek, and then turns to the boys, “and I’m glad to know you see it too.” She says nothing but offers you a pat on the shoulder and turns to the Zeta.
As soon as Canary and Icon zeta out, you turn to the team, shoulders set, “You realize we were set up,” your tone is even, despite the worrisome nature.
“Yes,” Aqualad confirms. “Cheshire and Riddler were tipped and ready for us.”
“They knew we were looking for her, specifically,” you point out, and you can’t help the way your gut swoops.
“Not the mole thing again,” Artemis groans, and your lips turn down. How was it that Roy got to move on, but you were still battling the same demon.
“Mole thing?” Rocket asks, concerned. “Again?”
“We had intel that there was a traitor on the Team,” Wally explains, tone resigned.
“Namely, Artemis, M'gann, or me,” Conner huffs, his bravado cutting through as he steps forward with clenched fists and levels a glare at you specifically.
“It is more complicated than that,” Kaldur argues, placing a hand on Conner’s shoulder.
“And we-“ you gesture between you and Kaldur “-never said that, we only tried to look into the claim to see if it were true,” you argue.
Conner scoffs and shoves Kaldur’s hand away, turning to leave, “But your recent behavior does concern me,” Kaldur adds, following after him. “Your attack on Mammoth nearly got Artemis killed.”
Conner doesn’t respond, though he does stop for a moment. When he winces, your brow furrows, “Conner?” you call cautiously.
“There’s something I need to do,” Conner says, turning back to face you, but his tone is wholly different. “Something I need to tell you,” he admits, and you shift as you pick up the unease of everyone in the room. “Last month, on Thanksgiving, I went back to CADMUS and found a few things out.” Your eye twitches slightly at the mention of CADMUS, but you fight to keep your expression neutral. “When I was cloned, only half the DNA was Superman’s. The other half was human,” he admits, and there’s a shift from everyone else. “That's why I don't have, will never have, full Kryptonian powers.”
Your brow furrows, thinking about what you’d seen today, “You sure? Because you sure seemed to have them today,” Robin teases, voicing your thoughts.
“I've been using these,” Conner says, pulling up his sleeve and showing a patch, “Shields. They suppress my human DNA. I get the flight, the heat-vision, but I think I also get angry. Well, angrier… I’m… sorry,” he explains and only one question comes to mind.
“Conner, where did you get those?” you ask, voice lethal.
Conner winces at the question and your tone but meets your gaze. There’s an honesty there that hasn’t existed in a while, a calmness that stems from finally unloading the truth, “From my human father… Lex Luthor.”
There’s an audible intake of breath from someone behind you, and everyone’s eyes are blowing wide, but you? You’re fuming because if Lex Luthor had that much reach, it meant he must have been the silent bankroller for CADMUS, which in turn means Lex Luthor was responsible for the death of your parents, and that? That was not something you’d be letting go of, not now, not ever.
“Lex Luthor, is your dad?” Dick asks. The surprise is evident, and if not for the topic, it would’ve been a moment to commemorate, catching the Boy Wonder off guard.
“He's summoned me to Santa Prisca,” Conner continues.
The silence is deafening. Your shoulders tense as you try to gather your thoughts, and as you open your mouth to say something about Conner’s decision to keep these things secret, Artemis speaks up.
“Ahhh, listen,” she sighs. “Superboy’s not the only one suffering from bad DNA,” she admits, and you tense further, turning to look at the blond. She pulls up three IDs on the holo-computer before beginning. “My mother is Huntress, an ex-con. The rest of my family aren't even ex. My dad's Sportsmaster, and he's sending my sister, Cheshire, to fly me to Santa Prisca, too.”
You gape at the screen, but it all makes sense: her need to prove something, her secrets, her mother’s desperation, even the reason why Cheshire always seemed to escape when up against Artemis.
“That's why-“ Wally’s voice cracks, and you’re hit with a wave of understanding and regret from the speedster as he stares at the archer.
“Yeah,” she mutters. “I was so desperate to make sure none of you found out. “
“I knew you weren’t GAs niece, but-“ you mumble but stop as eyes shift to you.
“I knew,” Dick negates, and Artemis’ eyes blow wide, and you can’t help but gape at him. “Hey, I'm a detective!” he defends but quirks a smile, “But it never mattered. You aren't your family. You're one of us,” he reminds her.
“You always have been,” you manage to choke out, “nothing to prove,” you remind her, and you can see how the tension melts away from her.
Wally pushes forward and stops beside her. He hesitates on what to say but eventually settles for a small smile, propping an arm on her shoulder and jokingly asking, “So who's next?”
“I am,” comes the somber response from M’gann, and for the first time since the start of these revelations, you watch as she seems to curl up into herself.
“I swear I was kidding,” Wally says desperately, hands up in surrender.
“Queen Bee's been blackmailing me. She wants me in Santa Prisca too,” she admits.
“Blackmailing?” Kaldur repeats as if he hadn’t heard her correctly.
“How?” you press. Your voice is rough, and you notice how M’gann’s not the only one to flinch at it.
“She knows my… true… Martian form,” M’gann admits, but the way she says it makes it seem heavier than your first instinct.
“Bald M'gann? Who cares if-“ Robin wants to make a joke, to lighten the mood, but M’gann cuts him off, and before she shifts, you know why: Bald M’gann had been another cover for a secret she hadn’t been ready to share.
“No,” she interrupts, taking a deep breath before shifting.
If you thought the reactions to Luthor being Conner’s human dad were extreme, it was nothing to how almost everyone reacted to M’gann’s true form. She stood before you, a towering creature, a White Martian. While your information was limited, you had enough to assemble a theory.
You fought not to react, to stand firm and impassive beside Kaldur, just as he did. The only other person not to react was Conner.
There’s a whispered “woah” from Rocket as everyone else releases startled gasps.
“I realized you would never accept me if you saw what I really am,” M’gann tells us, and you ache for her. You struggled sometimes balancing Nightingale and (y/n) Roxo. You couldn’t imagine having kept your true self a secret from everyone, having no one to turn to. It had to have been incredibly draining and lonely… so lonely. Your anger was fading with each revelation, but there was one point where you were still stuck.
“M’gann, did we truly seem so shallow?” Kaldur inquires, and though he sounds the same, you can hear the hurt in his words, the edge you recognize as him questioning his abilities in setting the tone of his leadership.
M’gann crosses her arms, her gaze cast down. Dinah called that stance protecting by avoidance, “I couldn't take a chance,” M’gann admits. “Being a white Martian among the green on Mars, I endured constant rejection….I couldn't face that from-“
“From me?” Conner asks, carefully stepping forward and taking her hand.
The way they stare at each other is enough to tell that they are now having a more private conversation. Dick takes the opportunity to grab your shoulder, forcing you to turn to him, Kaldur doing the same.
“Now might be a good time for anyone else to share secrets regarding CADMUS,” he hints, and your lips part- he hadn’t even bothered to whisper.
“What are you talking about?” Zatanna’s question echoes from behind him, but you standing stock still, staring at him.
“You must be joking,” you hiss as you shrug out of Dick’s grip.
“C’mon, Birdy,” he urges, and you feel Kaldur’s hand on your shoulder.
You shrug off Kaldur, too, before spinning on your heel, pushing past Artemis and Wally and to the computer. Your hands shake a bit while you type, but you pull up everything you have; the news article about your parent’s death, the report on your blood from Dinah and Bruce, and the readings on the genomorphs at CADMUS. You take a deep breath before turning back to everyone now looking at you and at everything you’ve pulled up, eyes jumping between each article and report.
You sniff before reaching into a compartment of your belt and pulling out a mask adhesive dissolution wipe. When you start pulling at your mask, there are a few wide eyes, and when your glare lands on Robin, all he does is smile in return.
“My name is (y/n) Roxo, and when I was six years old, I witnessed the murder of my parents,” you begin. Everyone but Kaldur and Robin focus on you with lips parted and wide eyes. “They were Wayne Enterprises scientists, brilliant actually. They noticed some discrepancies with a project in the labs, cover-ups, and false reports. One had to do with an instance when I was in their lab and was accidentally exposed to whatever the project had been focused on,” You begin. “When we went to CADMUS on the Fourth of July, something about the genomorphs seemed familiar. I later discovered that’s because when I was young, I was exposed to a replication of their abilities, the beginnings of the research that led to the cloning capabilities. It’s what gave me the empath abilities and why J’onn thinks I could manifest further powers, just like the genomorphs have,” you explain.
“Which is why you looked like you were about to whip out some kryptonite when SB here said Luthor was his dad,” Artemis pieced, gaze jumping toward you and Conner. “Because CADMUS-“
“Because CADMUS is his project, and he funded, orchestrated- he was responsible for my parents murder,” you affirm, eyes meeting Conner’s.
“Holy shit,” Wally mumbled, and you couldn’t help but agree.
Conner was staring straight at you despite how focused he had been on M’gann only moments before. His blue eyes were wide as he stared straight at you, his lips parted but closed, and then his expression shifted as he took in the rage in your eyes and again when he saw the hurt. His shoulders sag slightly, and he slowly takes steps forward until he is right in front of you.
“I- I’m so sorry, Bir- (y/n),” he stutters over your name for a second, and you want to hold onto the anger. You want to be mad at him, but his eyes are so open and honest with you right now, and you’re reminded of the Conner who saved you from Cadmus back in July, the one who wanted to do good, to be good.
“It’s not okay, but I don’t… I don’t blame you,” the fact that your blame fell squarely on Lex Luthor went without saying.
He offers a curt nod, “a problem for later?” he adds quietly, and you give a silent nod in affirmation.
“So uh.. I know I’m new, but what now?” Rocket asked, and everyone’s eyes jumped from person to person, waiting for someone to speak up.
“We know that CADMUS has played a much larger role than any of us anticipated when we began this team six months ago, and we know that Superboy, Artemis, and Miss Martian are all expected at Santa Prisca,” Kaldur begins, and everyone’s attention shifts to him. “So we go as a team. Prepared for whatever they may throw at us. The backroom deals and secret alliances end today.”
SANTA PRISCADecember 30, 17:57 ECT
“Superboy’s about to make contact,” M’gann’s voice echoes as everyone focuses on the exchange.
You and Robin were in the bioship with M’gann. At the same time, Kaldur, Wally, Rocket, and Zatanna had taken discreet positions on the island, each of you waiting for the call.
You could feel Robin staring at the back of your head, but you ignored him instead of focusing on what was happening on the ground below you.
“Welcome, Superboy,” Lex Luthor’s voice sets you on edge the second you hear it. Still, you force yourself to watch as Suberboy dismounts the Supercycle. “I'd like to introduce you to my associate, Queen Bee.”
Even though it was expected, your heart begins to speed up a bit in reaction to the developments, “My pleasure,” she greets.
“I believe you know everyone else. Sportsmaster, Mercy, Blockbuster. And our new friend Bane, who's allowed us use of his island in exchange for certain considerations,” Luthor introduces as everyone around him steps forward.
“No one wanted to listen when I said following Bane was a bad idea, and here we are,” you huff into the link, but the rest are silent.
“So the Injustice League was just a distraction. You two have been behind everything from the start,” Conner surmises, painting his expression with shock.
“Heh, a flattering notion, son, but we have many friends,” Luthor sidesteps, and your skin crawls at the way he calls SB son.
“This one of your friends now?” Conner asks as a helicopter begins to approach and then as it lands.
“No, my boy,” Luthor smirks. “One of yours.”
Conner glares at the copter until the door slides open, “Artemis?” the name rings out with a tone of shock, and you roll your shoulders, trying to force yourself to relax.
To her credit, she plays her role well, “The hero thing wasn't working out. You get how it is. No trust,” she scoffs, seemingly indifferent to the developments around her. “This is where I belong,” she adds, and you flinch.
“You’re up, Miss M,” you announce, and she backs the bioship up a bit, making a circle around the island and de-camouflaging the bioship before parking it in the air above the group.
“It's a fast-growing club,” Queen B announces as M’gann descends to the ground.
You reach for the rope, securing yourself to the repeller in preparation for when you’ll all be making your move.
“So… you’re just going to ignore me?” he asks cautiously.
Your glare sharpens in his direction, but it’s difficult to make out with your mask back.
“I know you’re upset that I-“
“Upset? Dick, I’m furious, you pushed me into revealing things they didn’t need to know! Things I trusted you enough to share about, privately!”
“They needed to know!” he argues. “(y/n) you consistently come to the rescue, you throw your life on the line for us, you did it in the Bayou, you did it for Wally in Seattle, you did it last week for me in the Circus. You do it all the time, because you know these things about everyone, you know when they need the support, but no one- outside of Kaldur and I, even had the slightest inclination. They needed to know, because today is more than the conspiracy of the last six months. Today could be the end, of it all, for you. Today could be the answers you’ve been looking for since Dinah took you in.”
“It wasn’t your call to make,” you hiss.
“No, it wasn’t. But this team fights better, fights stronger, when it’s united, and you’ve always been able to make us get our shit together better than anyone else can,” he sighs.
You glare at him but refuse to respond, and his shoulders drop.
“Why are they here?” M’gann’s startled gasp forces you both to look back to the ground from your spots within the ship. “You promised!” she cries.
“I’ve kept your secret and my promise,” Queen B argues, tone deadly. “Now, you keep yours,” when M’gann ducks her head, the monarch smirks, “Good girl.”
“Give me more shields, and I'm in, too,” Conner decides, and your lips twitch down. Espionage was not his forte.
Luthor walks closer and stares at Conner briefly before smirking, “My boy, you're a terrible liar.”
Conner’s eyes blow wide before winding back for an attack. However, before he can, Luthor plays his card, “Red Sun.”
Conner does well with his role. His entire body relaxes, face falling flat, arms hanging limply at his side as he stands straight with a muted expression, staring at Luthor.
“What do you want us to do?” Artemis asks, stepping forward, prodding the meeting along.
Luthor nods his head once, and Sportsmaster gestures to Artemis and M’gann. “You two, follow me.”
“What about Superboy?” M’gann asks, eyes sliding to Queen B.
“He'll be fine. He simply requires a few adjustments…” she trails off.
Everyone but Superboy begins to follow after Sportsmaster, “Bring him along,” Luthor orders, and Blockbuster moves toward Conner.
Your breath catches as you wait to see what happens. You’d all agreed that it’d be Artemis, M’gann, or Conner’s call on when to move, given they were the three in the thick of it. So when Artemis starts running forward, bow in hand before shooting at Blockbuster, trapping him for the moment, before turning around and aiming at her father.
“Sorry, Dad. Wanted to play you like you tried to play me but I can't let them mess with Superboy's head!” she shouted.
“M'gann, be a dear and take Artemis down,” Queen B orders.
You look at Rob as you both step up to the drop-hole.
You let out an audible groan as you stare at the boy across from you, “After,” is all you say.
He nods in affirmation, “milkshakes?” and you nod in agreement.
M’gann lifts Artemis in the air but then uses the distraction to fling Queen B backward and into a tree. She falls to the ground unconscious, and you wait for the verbal confirmation. Artemis shoots a shot at her dad, and then M’gann lets her down.
“Queen Bee is down,” M’gann confirms. “Superboy, you're safe from her control.”
"I may not be much of a liar, but I fooled you,” Conner announced as he approached Luthor.
“And I'm so proud,” Lex states sarcastically. “I take it Miss Martian cleaned Red Sun from your mind?”
“And confirmed Nightingale, Aqualad, Robin and Kid Flash rescued me from Cadmus before you had time to install any other programming,” Conner shoots back.
Luthor sighs, “All true. Personally, I blame Dr. Desmond.”
As if verbally queued, Blockbuster frees himself from Artemis’ trap, charging at Superboy.
You observe as Bane’s goons start engaging, and the supercycle quickly lays down cover fire while SB gets busy with Blockbuster.
Artemis and M’gann alternate between defense and offense until, “Guys, reinforcement time,” the blonde calls.
Rocket and Wally are the first two to make it to everyone, and you glance at Rob, “Ready?”
“Go,” he confirms, and you both drop-down, trusting the rope and the bioship as you go. You yank the stop when you’re only a few feet off the ground, and both you and Robin stop abruptly before releasing yourselves, dropping to the ground and landing agilely on your feet.
You take a second to scan your surroundings. You spot Kaldur facing off with Luthor and his assistant, an unconscious Queen B in his arms. You turn instead to take on some of the goons. You and Rob were methodical in knocking down person after person, you hear the cocking of a gun behind you, and you turn with wide eyes,
“Ekoms dna srorrim!” (smoke and mirrors!) Zatanna chants and the gun turns to smoke, which then turns into a giant serpent, winding its way around the goon’s body. “Egnahc ekans otni sgnidnib!” (change snake into bindings); she continues, and the snake becomes a rope.
You’re frozen in surprise for a second, but that’s knocked away when Bane appears and charges at Robin, Zatanna, and you simultaneously.
“Shit!” you manage to grit out in surprise.
Your hands start moving blindly, a hand going to your hip where your grapple is. You quickly twist the cord out of the gun before whipping it and your arm out to the side in an arc. The tensile strength of the cable is enough to stop Bane as he falls forward with the three of you.
You and Rob push him off and to the side. Robin covers you while you quickly peek at Zatanna, who seems knocked out. You look up in time to see Bane get back up and start fighting with Robin. You're on your feet when he gets pushed back, facing off against Bane.
“Hola Chicita, it’s been some time,” he teases, head tilting down at you.
“Not nearly long enough, Bane,” you huff.
“Etaerc Elagnithgin Snoisulli!” (create nightingale illusions) Zatanna’s rushed chant whips through you, and you can feel the prickle of her magic as it washes over you, and suddenly, there are dozens of you all facing Bane.
Bane’s surprise is visible as he scans each and every duplicate of you. "Gotta love an army of NG,” Rob smirks as he pushes himself up.
You smirk in return and pull out your ring daggers, several duplicates doing the same or arming themselves with escrima sticks and marble bombs before you’re all running at Bane. He gets distracted by the ones jumping up at him directly and misses when the true you slip around him with one of your blades out. You cut through his tubes of Venom, weakening him. Then you turn with an escrima stick crackling with electricity and plant it firmly at the base of his neck, watching with satisfaction as it brings him to his knees and then as he collapses.
You pull back, and with the moment you have, you take in a deep lungful of air, finally able to breathe. As you look around, you realize the fighting has stopped. Artemis and KF are standing by an unconscious and tar-trapped Sportsmaster. Superboy, Miss M, and Rocket are posted up by Blockbuster. You stare down at Bane as you realize who isn’t still here, and Robin joins you a second later.
“NG?” his voice is hesitant, as he notices how you’re gripping your escrima stick and dagger, your body tense, as you stare at Bane.
“He got away,” your voice cracks as you say it, and your fists clench tighter. "Luthor-"
When Robin touches your shoulder, you both recoil quickly; his lips part as he stares at you and his hand.
“I.. I felt-“
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, tugging on all the strings threatening to burst free, trying to cram your emotions back in their place to keep them from leaking out and affecting everyone around you. You drop your weaponry, hugging yourself as you try to compact your feelings.
A different hand lands on your shoulder. When you turn your head, you see Kaldur beside you. You can feel yourself unraveling just as fast as you attempt to stuff it all down.
“Stop,” you say as you attempt to shrug him off.
“It is okay to feel angry, my friend,” he reminds you, eyes burning with the same rage you feel, and you know in that second that it is the same rage, it is your rage, that he’s taking it on, for you.
“Kaldur, stop, that’s not- you shouldn’t-“ you huff, but with each move back, he follows, until suddenly he’s holding you in a tight hug, and you can’t move anymore. “Stop,” you beg, gripping on to his arms.
“Allow us to help, epitrépste mou na sikóso aftó to város. stiríxou páno mou, chrisimopoíise ti dýnamí mou, méchri na anaktíseis ti dikí sou. Eímai statherós, paliós fílos. (let me carry this burden. lean on me, use my strength, until you regain your own. I am steady, old friend).”
His words wash over you, and you finally do that. You stop pushing against the bits that are bleeding. You can feel Kaldur stiffen when he finally feels the whole barrage of your emotions, but quickly, he tightens his hold on you. When tears start to fall from both of you, all you can do is sag into him in relief.
“Den eínai díkaio. Xéfyge. Tha éprepe na eínai edó. Tha éprepe na logodotísei gia ta enklímatá tou, ton rólo tou. Échoun fýgei kai eínai exaitías tou. Eímai tóso kourasménos kai tóso thymoménos, to niótho óli tin óra kai prospathó tóso sklirá na min to afíso éxo. Allá giatí eínai eléftheros?” (It's not fair. He got away. He should be here. He should have to answer for his crimes, his role. They're gone and it’s because of him. I am so tired and so angry, I feel it all the time, and I try so hard not to let it out. But why does he get to be free?) the words tumble from your lips in sobs of atlantean.
Part of the truth you’re admitting was too raw to admit to everyone else, none of the sidekicks had ever seen your anger, your rage— Kaldur had. Kaldur was the one who he lped you learn how to manage it. He was the one who taught you, the one who showed you how to channel it into something better.
“Thýmose, Poulí, tha diatiríso tin isorropía kai gia tous dýo,” (Be angry, Bird, I will maintain the balance for us both) he answers, his voice as calm as ever, and you can’t help but marvel at him, how he can hold your anger, your hurt, your rage, but present as calm, and keep it from seeping out when you can’t do anything but make a mess.
You know the team’s watching. You know they’re concerned and want to tell them it’s okay, that you’re okay, but you’re not. You know that. Dinah would know what to say and how to tell the team that they did a good job and that they should enjoy the win, but you can’t. You can’t tell them that you can’t enjoy it, not when the mastermind of it all managed to escape.
Quietly, Kaldur helps you back onto the Bioship. Vaguely, you hear the conversations happening around you.
“It is always like this,” Rocket scoffs, dropping into her seat.
“Told you,” Wally chimes, but you can feel his gaze on you.
“Hey, disaster averted. Feeling the aster,” Robin muses as he settles next to you but keeps a distance.
“Agreed, this has been a good day,” Kaldur nods, fists clenched as he turns to you, “but it is not the end.”
“No,” you ground out in confirmation, and you can feel the promise in his words, “it’s not.”
#codename: nightingale#cnng#cnng episode#cnng season 1#cnng s1 e25#yj#young justice#young justice x reader#young justice imagine#dc imagine#sidekick!reader#dick grayson x reader#robin x reader#black canary#dick grayson#robin#wally west#kid flash#aqualad#kaldur#m'gann m'orzz#miss martian#superboy#conner kent#artemis#artemis crock#zatanna#daisy's fics#rocket#raquel ervin
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