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ddarker-dreams · 4 months ago

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A Deal's a Deal II.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, descriptions of anxiety and emotional/mental manipulation. Word count: 4.1k.

You met Chrollo at an old hole-in-the-wall bookstore that housed archaic texts.

There was little information on your condition, but what material did exist hid itself beneath allegory and ciphers. The best leads came from high strangeness circles. They expanded on Jung’s concept of the collective unconscious, drawing parallels between historical records across cultures and periods that all implied some system that transcended physical limitations. Whether it came from alchemists like Paracelsus, mystics like Crowley, or authors like William Blake, hints of this system can be found sprinkled throughout history.

Chrollo informed you that this system is commonly called ‘Nen.’

Before him, the nomenclature eluded you. You simply regarded it as a phenomenon best kept to yourself. The world’s a weird place, filled with inexplicable things that the human mind can’t always comprehend. This handheld device, which you nicknamed Instant Replay, is the foremost example.

You were always aware that you knew things you shouldn’t have. As a child, it perplexed you. Why do people sometimes sound weird? A few trips to the audiologist proved your hearing is perfectly fine. When this avenue didn’t provide answers, you ended up in counseling, where you reenacted the dilemma with dolls. For a while, you insisted that what you heard was real. It frustrated you to no end that the adults in your life either dismissed you or offered bromides.

As an adult yourself in the present, you can’t blame them for being at a loss.

You smartened up eventually. What you once blabbed about to anyone who would listen, you kept to yourself. This eased the tensions at home. Your parents seemed happy that the issue had ‘resolved’ itself and you maintained the illusion. Playing pretending could only do so much — the core problem remained. Your mind made the connection that when another was being dishonest, that’s when their voice would sound strange. After you realize that, there’s no going back. The epiphany changed how you interacted with others for better and for worse.

“You want to get rid of your ability?” he sounded surprised when he asked.

“How could I not?” you replied. “People lie… a lot. Friends, family, strangers. And, okay, that might not seem bad, but imagine always being aware of it. It— It eats away at you. Wears down your ability to trust. I have to act like I’m none the wiser, knowing full well someone just lied to my face. I don’t want to know! I’m tired of knowing!”

“You’re unable to control when it’s active?”

“Instant Replay lets me ‘review’ audio, both in real-time and after it’s been recorded. I have control over the latter, but that’s it.”

Your antagonistic relationship with Nen fascinated Chrollo. According to him, most people were intentional when it came to crafting their Hatsu. There are very few cases like yours where Hatsu is subconsciously given shape and form. You wish your subconscious had created something more useful, like a sword. That would’ve been cool.

“Could I learn a new ability to oust Instant Replay?” you wondered.

“Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way,” Chrollo dismissed. “In theory, it is possible to learn different abilities, although your inexperience would make that difficult. There’s no way to erase an ability either. You can, however, lose access to it. For instance, there’s my predicament, or…”

He leaned in close and whispered:

“... Someone could steal it.”

Chrollo looks out of place in your apartment.

It’s a cozy, lived-in space, full of trinkets that he thoughtfully examines as if he were in the Louvre. Meanwhile, you prepare two cups of tea. Chamomile with honey for you and Earl Grey for him. After setting the timer for five minutes, you realize there’s not much else to do but wait. The silence is unusual and unnerving. Anticipation thrums through the air like an electric current. You feel it coursing through your blood; tingling along your skin.

The barstool you’ve chosen as your perch groans against the wooden floor as you pull it out.

Chrollo picks up a picture for closer inspection. You crane your neck, curious about which snapshot captured his attention. It’s from a night out with friends. Empty plates and drinks littered the table and each of you crowded in close to fit into frame. Since the restaurant was high-end, you were dolled up, adorned in an outfit that rarely saw the light of day.

“Swarovski?” He sounds amused.

“I’ve been known to splurge on the occasion,” you huff. “The necklace was on sale and the earrings were—”

You cut yourself off, although you’re unsure why. It shouldn’t be a taboo topic. Nonetheless, beneath the weight of his gaze, you couldn’t get the word out.

“—From an ex?” He offers.

You nod.

He returns the picture to its proper place, a cryptic smile on his lips. “So even you aren’t above materialistic impulses, hm?”

“There’s a difference between rampant consumerism and buying yourself something nice on occasion,” you retaliate, disliking the edge of mockery in his voice. “I don’t need to hear this from the dude wearing a silver Rolex watch.”

“It’s white gold.”

You roll your eyes. “A camel through the eye of a needle.”

“‘First cast out the beam out of thine own eye.’”

“Do you seriously have the entire King James version of the Bible memorized?”

“It was one of the most accessible texts in my youth,” he says, his smile softening into something pensive. “The missionaries were far more generous with those showing signs of ‘progress.’ I tried helping my companions memorize the more significant passages, but they weren’t what you’d call ideal pupils.”

Missionaries? You purse your lips and consider the implications. Had Chrollo grown up in destitution? Come to think of it, you know very little about him or his background. Unlike you, he never volunteered the information. He skillfully maneuvered around any inquiry into his past. The most you’ve gleaned is that he’s a traveling antiquarian who, in pursuit of valuables, made some enemies along the way.

The shrill shriek of the timer rips you from your thoughts.

Chrollo accepts his mug with a “thank you” and sits on the rightmost side of your coach. After plopping two ice cubes into your concoction, you join him, leaving ample room between you. The nerves from earlier return. He’s an easy man to converse with, but when his mind is preoccupied — as it most certainly is now — you’re at a loss. Do you try reinitiating banter? Opt for a completely different topic? Or should you let him initiative, squirming around until he breaks the thickening tension?

“Have I held you in suspense long enough?” Chrollo asks while holding his hand out. A book with a handprint on the cover appears, the pages flipping too fast for you to gauge their contents.

The quality of his aura temporarily stupefies you. This must be the difference between a novice like yourself and a genius. You can muster up enough aura to summon Instant Replay, but that takes considerable effort. To him, managing the flow of aura comes as easy as breathing. You scooch closer to study his technique. How long would it take you to match his expertise? Years? Decades?

“I’ll get bashful if you keep staring at me like that.”

“Liar,” you accuse without any real malice.

He chuckles.

“Give me your hand.”

Heat rushes to your face as you recall what happened when you last parted. “D-Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

Hesitantly, you do as he requests. He maneuvers your hand against the conjured book’s cover. You gnaw on your bottom lip, trepidation brewing inside your soul. You thought you’d feel relieved when this moment came. There’d be some butterflies, yes, but that would quickly give way to relief and exhilaration. The thorn that’s been in your side all these years is finally coming out. Your quid pro quo has reached its conclusion; this is your reward, your ticket to a normal life.

“I like you too.”

“I’ll be there whenever you need me.”

“It’s okay if you come.”

“I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“We’ll always be together.”

Yes, people lie a lot. Sometimes, you’re unsure if they’re even aware of it themselves. They lie to you, the people they love, the people they hate, and themselves. Fate decided you’d be made witness to their folly, sewing your lips shut and eyes wide open. The wounds it left behind are intangible and incurable. How do you heal what you can’t explain knowing to others? How do you explain your hesitation, shift in demeanor, and inadequate coverup?

The sound of Instant Replay whirring reverberates throughout your skull.

Chrollo speaks your name softly. You startle, realizing that you’re blinking back tears.

“I—”

“It’s alright,” he reassures. The words sound crisp — genuine — soothing your budding concern that you’re inconveniencing him somehow. In an instant, the hardcover dissipates, leaving your hand flat against nothing. Chrollo takes the opportunity to come closer. When you don’t protest, he completely closes the distance, until you’re thigh to thigh.

He smells good. Intoxicatingly so.

“Show me the ability you despise so much, dear.”

Dear? You think to protest the emergence of this nickname, yet you can’t bring yourself to. Instead, you follow his order, mechanically lifting your arm and summoning your ability much like he had.

“Good. It’s almost over with,” he brushes the wetness away from your eyes with his knuckles. Your heart leaps at the contact. “Finally, I have to ask about your ability. There are so many possibilities… what to choose, what to choose… ah.”

With the same hand that wiped away your nascent tears, he cups your cheek.

“Do you trust a man like me with such a dangerous ability?”

“I have my reservations,” you respond. You don’t miss the amusement he derives from your candidness. “This sounds bad, but… at this point, I guess I just don’t care.”

For a moment, all is still. There’s no odor of sulfur, maniacal cackling, or declaration that the ritual is complete. You didn’t have to sign a contract in blood or swear an oath to an infernal being. Your overactive imagination ran numerous scenarios through your head. The lack of flair over this life-defining moment is almost underwhelming. You frown, fearing that there was an error somewhere along the way. If there was, he’s given no indication, yet you’ll remain restless until the results are confirmed.

“Chrollo?”

“Hm?”

“Did it work?”

“It did, love.”

“Could you, um,” you lick your lips, a motion that draws his attention. “Make something up so I can know for sure?”

This request amuses him.

“How will you know if I’m being honest to mess around with you or not?”

At this, you give him a light shove. Given his apparent playfulness, you expected him to move back, but he doesn’t budge an inch. It felt like trying to move a concrete building.

“Make it an obvious lie, then.”

“An obvious lie, hm?” He mulls over your suggestion. “Very well. How about this: I don’t want you beneath me.”

You gape at him, dumbstruck.

“I find it easy to control my urges around you.”

He keeps going.

“I’m unmoved by your beauty…”

He gently pushes your shoulders until you’re lying down.

“... Your wit…”

He hovers above you, tracing the outline of your lips with his pointer finger.

“... And boundless charm.”

Chrollo tilts your head up by your chin. “Well? Do you believe me now?”

Slowly, as if in a daze, you nod. Your heart lurches, the organ beating loud enough to hear in your ears. You feel uncomfortably warm, like your heater’s been cranked to the highest setting. Gradually, the violent joy you expected to accompany your liberation abounds, starting at your chest and overflowing outward. You’re smiling, breathless, your corporeal form barely able to contain the glee. You see your reflection in Chrollo’s eyes. There’s a manic quality to your countenance; you barely recognize yourself.

You’re free, you’re free, you’re free—

His lips find yours. Your cognition short circuits, leaving you in a reverie where you can barely understand what’s happening. He handles you so carefully that it’s easy to forget you’re physically trapped. He carries on, either failing to notice your apprehension or disregarding it.

On some level, you’ve always sensed this underlying attraction. You remained purposefully obtuse. There was too much at stake — jeopardizing your aims for a fling felt counterintuitive. On paper, he’d make for the ideal partner. He’s devilishly handsome, charismatic, and intelligent to a fault. Aside from some dubious morality, you couldn’t ask for a better suitor.

And still, hesitation prevailed.

Every now and then, there’d be glimpses of some great, existential threat, beneath the fissures of his porcelain mask. These glimpses gave you pause. You think he could’ve tried harder to hide these damning qualities, yet chose not to. Where’s the fun — the thrill — in always playing nice? You needed his help more than he needed yours. His connections spanned continents, whereas yours were shallow and easy to uproot.

How many of your convictions would you compromise?

How far would you let the poison spread to cure another affliction?

How can you look down on him if you’ve fallen to the same level?

When he pulls away, you avert your gaze, fearing what stares back.

“... So you are afraid of me, then.”

Chrollo lets you wriggle out from underneath him. When your eyes make brief contact, it feels like he’s inspecting you, as if you were a specimen in a petri dish. It isn’t the reaction you’d expect from a rejected man. Nonetheless, you’re on edge and longing for a menial task to occupy yourself with. Recalling the state of the kitchen, you decide that will suffice.

He remains seated as you wash and dry the implements used to make your tea.

This uncharacteristic silence unsettles you further. The only audible sound in your apartment is your faucet, the water running over silverware that’s plenty clean. You scrub at it harder, wondering what you should do next. Originally, you intended to thank him for his pivotal role in removing your burden. You never would have made it this far without his assistance. Even with this strange atmosphere, your gratitude remains unwavering.

You’ll be able to live life like anyone else now. It’s an accomplishment worthy of celebration, regardless of the twists and turns along the way. Maybe he misinterpreted your body language or acted on an impulse. These mistakes can happen when emotions run high.

Okay, you think, psyching yourself up. This doesn’t have to be weird. I can—

“Have you given much thought over last week’s unpleasantness?”

Your heart skips a beat and your shoulders droop.

“I assume you haven’t,” he says. “That’s fair. It must’ve been frightening… I wish I could have spared you such an experience.”

The appreciation he previously instilled in you desiccates, drop by drop.

“Will you please get to the point?”

Under different circumstances, you would’ve been more patient with his preamble, but this is a sore subject. A buried corpse like that shouldn’t be exhumed. His reasoning, though elusive to you now, doesn’t inspire warm sentiments.

“That incident won’t be the last of its kind.”

You turn around as he approaches, sipping his tea. He leans against the counter and eyes you over the cup’s rim.

“In truth, we should’ve left hours ago, but I was feeling sentimental.”

“‘We?�� Chrollo, what are you talking about?”

“Had it not been for your role in getting my Nen back, Hisoka would’ve killed you,” Chrollo says this so casually that you question if you’re hearing him right. “Now that you’ve done your part, he has a vested interest in doing so.”

You no longer have a way to verify if he’s telling the truth or not. It’s so stupid, so unfair, that you almost laugh. Instant Replay no longer heeds your call. You surrendered it to a new master, who, before taking it from your willing hands, all but told you he was the worst person you could’ve picked.

Chrollo continues, “He’s a peculiar case. All he cares about is fighting formidable opponents, and, with my Nen returned, I am one.”

You take a step back.

“That business is between you two. I fail to see how this involves me.”

“I have preparations to finish before I face him,” Chrollo explains. “He doesn’t feel like waiting any longer. Harming you is an excellent way to speed things along. Even I don’t know what I’d do if you were fatally injured.”

You shake your head. “I— you’re not serious. There’s just no way. I’m moving past all of this bullshit. Nen, Hatsu, whatever; that has nothing to do with me anymore. I’m done.”

“I’m sorry, dear.”

“No, you aren’t!” Your voice raises in pitch, pulled as taut as a bowstring. “You knew, didn’t you? That this would be a problem? Oh, oh, you had to, why else would you have acted all weird when you saw him? Stop looking at me like you care, like you’re sorry, 'cause this is the best-case scenario for you!”

You pace back and forth, your mind racing. This was a mistake. Walking up to him because you recognized the book in his hands was a mistake. Is he bluffing? And if he is, does it matter? You can’t put up a fight. You don’t think you could even make it to the door. If he was a regular man, you’d have options. You could yell for help, call the cops, and inflict some damage, minor as it may be. All those tactics turn to ash before an oppressive, incomprehensible force like this.

You snap your head in his direction. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

“I don’t see how that will help.”

You prepare to spew vitriol his way, when a dreadful thought shoots through you like a bullet.

“My family. What about them? Won’t they be in danger too?”

“They aren’t on his radar.”

“How do you know that?”

“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” Chrollo sets the cup down. “The suffering of your loved ones wouldn’t elicit a reaction from me, so he won’t bother. Targeting you is the wisest option.”

Words fail you. Is this it? The depravity he kept subdued finally let loose, so dense in its quality that it threatens to suffocate you? All you wanted was a semblance of normalcy. Normal relationships, interactions, and problems. Has the path you’ve treaded brought you further away from this humble aspiration? Or is there still a way, some faint silver lining that you must find and latch onto?

“What about after?”

“Hm?”

“After Hisoka is dealt with,” you clarify, tapping your foot repeatedly. “You’re not going to let him live, are you?”

“That’s rather dark.”

“Chrollo,” you implore.

“No, I won’t,” he confirms. “As for what comes next — I intend to persuade you.”

You regard him with suspicion. His tone and the implications sink into you like a venomous bite. He exudes quiet confidence, indicating that nothing you’ve said will influence him in any meaningful way. Dread sticks to your stomach, making your body feel heavy. You hug yourself, clenching your upper arms with shaky fingers. Any lingering excitement from earlier has vaporized, leaving behind a profound hollowness.

“I suppose this can go a few ways,” you murmur. “I could cause as many headaches for you as possible, or, I could be decent enough.”

“I’m listening.”

“I’d like to have Instant Replay back,” you say. He quirks an eyebrow. “Just for a bit. What? I’m assuming if you can steal something, you can give it back, right?”

“You’d be correct. Still, that begs the question; what are you intending to accomplish with this little scheme?”

“Nothing that’ll inconvenience you in any major way.”

Chrollo falls silent. You dig your nails into your flesh as the seconds drag on, awaiting his verdict. If he had your ability activated, he should’ve been able to discern your honesty. Then again, he’s aware of the workarounds. To ensure your words wouldn’t register as untrue, you had to remain vague and subjective. What you consider an inconvenience could differ drastically from him.

“I’m sure I won’t regret this.”

Your eyes widen. That dissonant timbre is unmistakable, he returned your ability! Filled with newfound resolve, you stride toward him, your eyes blazing. This is your chance. You need to make the most of this opening before it’s gone forever. He could choose not to answer any of your questions, but something tells you he won’t, like it’d injure his pride. You issued him a challenge and he’s intent on meeting it.

“Did you have anything to do with what happened last week?”

“I didn’t.”

“Did Hisoka?”

“No, he just happened to be observing you from afar.”

“Why?”

“For his personal amusement, I’d wager.”

“He’d really kill me just to… agitate you?”

“It’s in line with his character.”

You swallow thickly and press on.

“And if you’re wrong?”

“Then I’m wrong. Regardless, you’ll be alive and well.”

“Can you win against him in a fight?”

“Yes.”

“And if you somehow lose, what happens next?”

“My companions will hunt him down and kill him.”

Now that you’ve gotten your most pressing inquiries out of the way, you decide to wade through dangerous waters. Chrollo likely saw the benefit in assuaging your doubt, these next questions provide him nothing substantial. His willingness to humor you is undoubtedly finite. Keeping this in mind, you consider the possibilities. You may never have a chance like this again. Is there anything that can give you an advantage? You’ll take anything, no matter how small, even if all it offers is an illusion of control.

Chrollo glances at his watch in a not-so-subtle motion.

“Who sealed your Nen?”

“Now this is more what I expected,” he hums. His eyes take on a bright, unsettling shade. “An individual with a longstanding grudge. Your paths will not cross, I suggest adopting another plan of attack.”

He saw right through you. You knew it was a long shot, but collaborating with this mysterious figure would have proven advantageous. They must be powerful in their own right to have bested Chrollo. Should you try pressing for more information? Then again, Chrollo doesn’t seem keen on sharing more, much to your chagrin.

What does that leave you with…?

“How do you plan on ‘persuading’ me?”

“You’re better off not knowing until we get to that point.”

You frown. If that didn’t register as a lie, it must be what he genuinely believes. Curiosity plagues you, dredging up anxiety. You have but a few grains of sand left in the hourglass remaining. It’s suspended midair, poised to drop at the most ill-timed moment. The approach of the end is worse than its inevitable arrival. You now have the chance to hasten its onset, at the risk of being debilitated by the impact. What lows would he resort to? Are you actually better off remaining ignorant?

“Alright, let’s—”

“Does it hurt to know I’ll never love you?”

Up until this point, he’s fired back with a near instant response. This time, however, he hesitates, the invasive nature of the inquiry necessitating careful thought. You finally found an effective ‘attack.’ It’s too late to do you any lasting good, but you greedily devour it nonetheless. When dealing with a person of Chrollo’s caliber, it’s easy to forget he possesses the same human qualities you do. You might be unable to stop his heart from beating, but you can make the organ ache.

“I can live with it, dear.”

You pinch your eyebrows together, thrown off by his voice’s clarity. Is the knowledge that inconsequential to him? Have you misjudged his attachment? While considering this, you flex your fingers, concentrating your aura there. You can’t repeat his words back since Instant Replay wasn’t recording, but you still decide to conjure it. You’ll record what remains of this conversation to ensure you don’t miss anything else.

The flow of your aura halts at your wrist, refusing to take form. Frowning, you try again, only to realize he must have reclaimed your ability.

When did that happen? Was it before or after his response?

Chrollo says your name, regaining your attention. “I fulfilled my end of the bargain. Will you do the same?”

After playing the role of the interrogator, you’re back to being an inmate. You meant what you said — when you said it, that is. This is yet another loophole to subvert Instant Replay. What’s true to you in one instant can change in the next. It’s frightening how fast he’s learned these nuances that took you years to test and discover. He’s already making the most of your ability, turning what was a thorn in your side into a full-fledged dagger.

“What choice do I have?”

“There’s always a choice,” Chrollo asserts. “You just have a habit of making the wrong ones.”

A delirious laugh leaves your lips.

"... I suppose you're right."

#chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #hxh x reader #yandere hxh x reader #chrollo brainrot #my stuff

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skywvlkersgrl · 7 months ago

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Need

Parings: anakin x reader

Warnings: piv, oral, somniphillia, dubious consent, obsession.

This took me so long to write, never writing smut again

Codependency wasn't healthy no matter what way you cracked it; especially for Jedi. Especially for Anakin. When he got obsessed with something, he’d go mad with obsession and possessiveness.

You'd always been there, all bright smiles and big doe eyes for him and him alone; his best friend. When most of the Padawan's othered him as children you were one who was truly kind to him.

Still, like the good boy he was (that he still is), he made sure to never latch on too hard, bonds break all the time and he just couldn't handle another loss, but it was so tempting.

Anakin's blue eyes trailed down your body as you lay there like a doll sleeping without a care in the universe. Hair falling into your eyes, lips parted slightly, the thin nightgown that barely hid anything — he swallowed thickly as he took you in.

He might have been the worst friend in the galaxy; all he could think of was how badly he wanted to taste you. Carefully, he dragged his thumb over your bottom lip, eyes fluttering from the feel of your lip under his thumbprint.

“Get a grip, Anakin.” He mutters to himself

He had to look away from you, his gaze flicking to the floor as he clenched a hand. He was getting too obsessive, he was getting too selfish and attached — he shouldn't be looking at you in such a way, it was wrong.

It... didn't change the fact that your lips were parted and looked so... inviting.

Anakin exhaled slowly, trying to calm himself, the sound a little shaky as he shifted from where he knelt beside the bed.

Anakin felt his own heart thump in his chest as his attention went back to you. You were so close and so asleep, you wouldn't know, would you? He could just...

Just a little touch, just a little kiss, a little taste. You'd never have to know, would you? He'd pretend he had no thought of doing that to you later and he’d remember the feeling of your lips against his.

Don't, don't, don't—

Why not?

The question hit him like a blaster bolt, and his hand was back on you, gently holding your face. Anakin leaned closer, and despite his best efforts to stop, he found himself pressing the softest of kisses at the corner of your mouth.

“Ani?” He feels your stir beneath him, a soft murmur escaping your lips.

Anakin practically freezes as soon as the soft sound of his name on your lips filled the quiet space, his own breath getting caught in his throat.

He knew he had been stupid, that he shouldn't have ever had his lips so close yours — but the sweet sound of his name? It didn't help that you were still half asleep because that, that made him want to dive right back down and press his lips to any bare skin he could access.

Anakin's grip on your face tightened slightly, his face moving even closer to yours. So many thoughts of what he thought of you ran through his head; how much he cared for you, how badly he wanted to claim you as his own, how pretty you were — how badly he wanted to ruin you.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he moved his gaze to your chest. It was a little shameless, but he wanted to drink you in and he had a good view right from where he was.

Anakin's breathing was shaky now, he wasn't sure if he could even call it breathing. He was practically gaping at the sight of your chest. The way your nightgown was just slightly stretched taut across your chest as you leaned back, it was making it hard for him to concentrate on anything besides you.

He swallowed again, the sound practically loud in the quiet of your room. He shouldn't be doing this, he shouldn't.

And then his control snapped.

His hands were on your body a moment later, pushing the flimsy material of your nightgown up as he pushed his body over yours. He knew he was going to regret this, he knew he was crossing a line, but his better judgment was nowhere to be found. He straddled your legs, his body effectively pinning you to the bed as his hands kept pushing your nightgown further up your body. His breathing was ragged, and now that he was touching you, he never wanted to stop.

You let out a small groan in your sleep.

He freezes at the sound and then his hands trailed up your skin, pushing the nightgown up until it was bunched around your chest, baring you to his hungry eyes as his hands went back to your sides. He was acting like a man deprived, but when your were right there — bared to his gaze as you slept defenselessly.

“Shh, you’re asleep… just stay asleep.” He murmurs a desperate plea.

“Ani?” You mumble, your eyes begin to flutter awake.

His fingers dug into the skin of your sides, and he began rocking his hips down against yours, rubbing against your thighs and causing him to let out another shaky breath.

He’s so distracted by the thought of you that he doesn’t notice you waking up. Not until, you sit up and collide into him.

You sudden movement took Anakin completely by surprise, and his quick reflexes were the only thing stopping him from being thrown completely off-balance. He looked down at you, eyes wide and face flushed as he tried to regain his breath.

"What are you doing..?" he asked softly, trying to sound nonchalant but the edge of desperation in his voice was still present.

“What are you doing?” You reply, staring at him with obvious confusion.

Anakin paused for a fraction of a second, swallowing thickly before he spoke. "I was... I.." He paused again, mind fumbling over his thoughts, trying to find any suitable excuse he could think of. “I was just... checking on you," he finally settled on, the words even less believable as they left his lips.

“Checking on me?” You repeat with a disbelieving frown. “Well your checking woke me up.” You grumble

He didn’t hear a word you said. His eyes flicked down to your nightgown, which had been pushed upwards and was now leaving most of your chest still bared. He bit his lip, his breathing growing heavy again as he tried to get his mind out of the gutter. You had just woken up, and he was trying so damn hard to not get any dirtier than he already was.

“I was just getting asleep too.” You whine, absentmindedly shifting in his lap, leaning on him, your chest pressed against his own.

Anakin nearly choked as you suddenly leaned into him, the feeling of your chest against his causing a very strong reaction in his body. He could feel the heat in his face, his cheeks were nearly burning now.

"Please- don’t move so much," he managed to rasp out, hoping you wouldn't feel how hard he was becoming against your thighs. If you leaned any closer, you really would feel just what effects you were having on him.

However you must’ve have noticed (or perhaps you’d been playing dumb all along) as you suddenly grin down at his growing arousal. “You should- you go take care of that.”

Anakin froze. You knew. You knew, and you looked so absolutely pleased about the fact that you knew how turned on he was.

He bit his lip, mind spinning as he tried to think of some sort of comeback, but his thoughts were so scrambled he couldn’t think of anything. “I… I should,” he muttered weakly, trying to sound indifferent.

“I won’t look.” You say with a sly smile.

If Anakin thought he hadn’t been blushing before, he definitely was now. Your words, your tone of voice, and your grin had his mind going blank, leaving nothing except an endless cycle of *need* in the void.

He groaned, and he was about to say something, to try and maintain some of his dignity, but all that left his lips was another soft whimper.

“..promise..?”

Once you give him a nod. He shifted away from you, crawling off the bed and turning quickly so you couldn’t see the obvious way his pants had become tented. He was nervous, more nervous then he should have been, but that nervousness was quickly being overrun by desperate need. He was leaning heavily against the wall as his knees shook with the effort of trying to hold him up. His breathing was rapid, and he had to cover his mouth with his hand to muffle the pathetic whimpers that left his lips as he palmed himself.

“Ani.” He hears you say his name with obvious fascination and amusement.

Anakin felt himself shiver when he heard you say his name, the sound of your voice having him lean his forehead against the wall and shut his eyes tight.

“You’re.. you’re not supposed to… ahh… t-to talk,” he managed to get out, his words broken apart by small moans.

Then you say three words that catch him off guard.

“Want me to help?”

Anakin groaned again, his head thunking against the wall in front of him as he shivered at the words. Did he want you to help? Yes, he so desperately wanted you to help, to touch him. But the way he was acting, the desperate need that you had already reduced him to at that moment… he was embarrassed and ashamed at how out of control he already was. “Please.." was all he could manage to mutter.

He watches as you bound up off the bed and drop to your knees right in front of him. Perfectly ready and waiting for him.

He had dreamed of something like this many times. He’d thought of it, he’d imagined it, he’d fantasized about it countless times. But none of that could have prepared him for the feeling of having you kneel in front of him, his body almost shaking with both need and anticipation as he watched you.

You don’t say a word but silently wrap a hand around his throbbing cock. You guide it to your open mouth, licking the precum that leaked out. He can’t suppress the surprised moans at your ease.

Slowly, you bring his cock to your open mouth, wrapping your pretty pink lips around it as you begin to suck. You swallow more and more of him until you can practically see the bulge in your throat. Your own saliva drips past your lips and down your chin, landing on your exposed breasts with a splash.

Anakin almost collapsed forward when he felt your mouth on him, the sudden onslaught of pleasure had his legs nearly giving way. He managed to keep himself standing, if by nothing but sheer willpower, his hands coming to grab at your hair and hold you in place.

It was too much, both physically and emotionally for him to handle. He was feeling so much he didn’t even know how speak anymore.

“Wait, wait..” he managed to get out, his voice breaking half-way through the words as he tried to gasp in another breath of air. “I— I can’t.. I’m not gonna’… ah — I’m not gonna’ last much longer..”

You suddenly pull your mouth away, gasping for breath after having deepthroated him.

He almost sobbed as you pulled away at that moment. Every part of his body was on fire, his mind a complete mess all because of you. He felt as though he was going to die right there on the spot — he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this desperate for something.

You just look to at him with the slyest of grins. “I didnt think you’d want to stop before putting it inside of me.”

Anakin swore he felt his brain short-circuiting at your words. The idea, the image they conjured had him biting his lip so suddenly his teeth dug into the flesh.

He grunted, shutting his eyes before looking back down at you, his eyes blown wide and dark with desire. He didn’t trust his own voice to speak at that moment, so he simply managed a strangled nod in response. “Please.. please…” his words tumble out.

He whimpers as you take hold of his dripping cock once more and guide it to your dripping folds, clearly visible through your soaked panties. In one swipe, they’re tugged down and he almost passes out at the sight of you.

He shivered, his hand coming to grip your hip tightly, desperate to ground himself. This… this all felt so intense, he didn’t know what to do, how to act. “I just… *you,”* he finally managed to get out. “I just need you, I-“

He cuts himself off as he unceremoniously shoves his cock inside you, making you yelp in pleasure and pain.

“Sorry- sorry,” he manages to get out as he rolls his hips against you involuntarily. He felt his mind going blank, he’d never felt like this before. “Need this- need this so bad-“ He whimpers, pulling out of you before slamming his cock into you with full force making you moan loudly.

As soon as you let out a moan, Anakin’s own breath caught in his throat for a second. The sound had him shuddering, his mind going blank for a moment as he pushed himself further against you.

He was coming undone. Losing himself in you, the sounds you were making and the feelings that were overwhelming him all seemed to mesh together into a mess of need and desire so strong he didn’t know how to handle it.

He wanted you. He needed you.

“Ani please.” He could feel your grip on his shoulders tighten.

“Needy,” he mumbled, more to himself than anything, his mind was barely functioning.

“ you’re making me so crazy,” He panted, rolling his hips against you again before speaking. “Say.. say my name again..”

With a loud grunt, he drove himself into you. Every thrust making both of you moan loudly and bring you closer to that release.

He began to move against you with more purpose, his movements becoming less steady and more desperate as he felt himself getting closer to the edge. He couldn’t even tell if the sounds he was making were words at that point, the only thing he could be sure of was that he craved you, needed you more than anything he’d ever craved in his life before.

Your sounds are driving him into a frenzy at this point, pushing him, your walls gripping him so tightly as you got closer to the edge. He’s losing himself, the world has faded from around him at this point, the only thing in his mind and in his eyes are you.

“I’m.. I’m so close..” he managed to get out, his voice coming out in ragged pants as he continued to move against you.

Once he feels you tighten around him, he loses it.

All he could do was hold you tightly against him as he buried his face in your shoulder, making broken guttural sounds that were somehow a mix between moans and sobs.

His cock releases the white hot stream of thick liquid, coating your insides with enough that you’d be leaking it for weeks. It mixes with your own fluids, leaving a mess on his cock and your thighs.

He was overwhelmed with pleasure, his mind entirely blank. The only thing he was aware of was holding you, and how much he needed you right now.

As you go to pull away and clean yourself up, he grabs your wrist pulls you back towards him.

“Now hold on a minute… we’re not quite done yet.”

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagines #anakin skywalker smut #hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #star wars #star wars anakin #sam monroe #james kelly #hayden christensen imagines #lorenzo di lamberti #kurt matheson #the dynamics are very mixed with this one

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xxchumanixx · 8 months ago

Text

Glimpses

Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings/Tags: fluff, angst, Bucky (yes, he's a warning), reader has the ability to show other people images in their head (does that make sense?), otherwise not described, spoilers for fatws

Word count: tba

Authors note: To be honest, I've been working on this for months, bit by bit. I didn't have much time to write or post something lately, and somehow, the motivation went with it. But I love this man to no end, and I had to finish this (for my sake, too). Im not a hundred percent happy with it, but we're just gonna roll with it.

I hope you enjoy it.

It gnawed at you, gripping you with a hand made of iron, it's icy fingers sending chills down your spine.

How could she do this to you?

Someone you once envied for being related to Peggy Carter, one of the founders of SHIELD, maybe one of the coolest persons to have ever existed.

Now, you couldn't help but pity Sharon Carter.

Sam nudged your foot with his, ripping you out of your thoughts. "What's up with you?" he wanted to know, brows furrowed.

Blinking at him, you tried to grasp what he was talking about, before shaking your head with a sigh.

"When Sharon was pardoned, I heard her say something I don't know what to think of..." you mumbled, biting your cheek. Sam rose a brow in return, Bucky's furrowing.

You were sitting in a private jet, a small table in front of you, with Sam sitting diagonally to your right and Bucky to your left.

"When she came out, she dialed someone, saying something about super soldiers being off the menu, weapons and 'should be something for everyone'." you recited what you had heard her say.

You had been there to congratulate her, welcome her back. But, when she stepped out the building, immediately dialing someone, you hid back in the crowd, carefully listening.

Yeah, eavesdropping wasn't nice, but something urged you to do it.

And you had been right.

"Nah," Sam made, shaking his head with a chuckle. "You must have misheard her."

Licking your lip, you shook your own head. "No, I know what I've heard."

Sam's brows furrowed, eyes trained on you. "Y/N, I'm sure you just misheard her." he repeated his words softer.

Eyes widening, your mouth was agape. "Sam-" you started, but he cut you off. "No, Y/N-" "Sam!" with a yell of his name and a slam of your hand on the table, you locked eyes, letting your power whir to life.

You could see your own eyes change color in his iris, energy flowing through you, as you forced him to see what you've seen.

Sharon left the building with a smile on her face, radiating confidence. Pulling out her phone she dialed a number, slowly walking further down the steps.

"Start lining up our buyers." she spoke into the phone, seemingly not caring enough to watch her surroundings for anyone listening. "Super Soldiers might be off the menu, but we're about to have full access to government secrets, prototype weapons, you name it. Should be something for everyone."

With that, she left, leaving you speechless.

With a gasp, you let go of Sam's mind, rapidly blinking to get the dry feeling out of your eyes.

Sam stared onto the table, swallowing. His hands trembled slightly, whilst Bucky grew impatient.

"Can I see?" he wanted to know, eagerly leaning forward in his seat. It made you chuckle, despite the dread in your stomach.

Letting Bucky enter your mind, was something different.

You weren't able to control your powers a hundred percent, which would be a risk, when letting someone in. There could be emotions or flashes of memories that could seep through, something you didn't want.

Especially not with him.

You had been in love with him for a while now, but never dared to make a move on it. Not, when he was so far out of your league.

Swallowing, you nodded hesitantly.

Locking eyes with Bucky's blue ones, you let your power come to life again, heart pounding faster.

You showed him the same thing you showed Sam, trying your hardest to concentrate only on the memory of Sharon, nothing else.

Slipping back out of it, you blinked rapidly, whilst Bucky sat frozen in his chair.

Shaking your head, you felt it deep in your chest, slowly making its way up - luckily for you, you had cut the connection already.

It was a memory you cherished deep in your heart, one of your favorites. It was Bucky, smiling happily.

Most of the time his smile didn't reach his eyes, not like it should have. He wasn't as carefree, at least not until he teamed up with Sam.

He was lying on the sofa in Sarah's house, Sam's sister. The kids had been playing with the shield, whilst Bucky was still sleeping on the couch.

You had been sitting at the small coffee table, able to see him, but he wouldn't see you at first glance.

When he woke up, softly calling out to the kids with a smile and a peace, they panicked, putting the shield back into its bag.

It had you smiling into your mug, quietly chuckling, as you sipped your coffee.

His smile was real, beautiful and rare. His eyes sparkled with joy, sunlight catching in them, highlighting the blue of his iris, as he leaned back into the cushions.

It showed the Bucky he was back in the forties, slowly peeling away layer after layer of his hardened shell.

Closing your eyes, you willed the memory away, slowly shaking your head, to get rid of it.

When your eyes opened again, looking back up at Bucky and Sam, Bucky's eyes were glued to your face.

His brows were furrowed, deep in thought. His mouth opened the slightest bit, but it closed again, like a fish.

Your own eyes widened the slightest bit, belly churning, as you realized.

The faint line connecting your minds - it was still there.

Your breathing fastened, fist clenching, as you looked at Sam, trying to come up with something to pull him into a conversation - but your mind was as blank as a wall.

Seriously, now you were able to think of nothing?

Your hands began to sweat, as you tried your hardest not to burst into tears. It was exactly what you had feared to happen, not being able to control it.

Mostly the reason you never really let Bucky enter your mind, fearing what he might find.

"Do you think-" Sam started, but cut himself off with a shake of his head. "That she's the power broker?" you returned, eager to flee into this conversation, but it was over just as fast as it had begun. "Yeah."

Bucky didn't say anything, eyes fixed on his hands that were seated in his lap.

Sam sighed, one hand swiping over his face. He was tired, you could tell. Being the new Captain America wasn't easy.

"Excuse me." you mumbled, standing up, before heading out of the room and towards the bathroom, where you locked yourself in.

You choked on a breath, fighting the tears, but soon losing. How could you be so careless? You should have known it wouldn't end well, letting him enter your mind.

But it would have been suspicious not to show him, either.

You could only hope you'd get out of this unscathed.

_____

Sam cleared his throat in discomfort, fist clenching on the table.

If he hadn't known your memories were true, he would have brushed it off with a laugh. He'd worked with Sharon before, and she never seemed like someone who would turn on her own people.

How long, til she would turn on them?

Eyes lifting, they met the side of Bucky's face. He was quiet, more than usual.

"How can she do this to us, after all we went through?" Sam asked in a mumble, ripping Bucky from his thoughts with a "Huh?".

Brows furrowing, Sam tried to analyze the man he didn't want to call friend, even though he'd become exactly that over the past few weeks.

"What's up with you?" he asked, frown deepening. Sure, Bucky had his moments where his thoughts drifted off, but not like this.

Not when you just basically fled a minute ago.

Bucky shook his head, trying to clear his mind. "I don't know." he gave back, forehead wrinkling in thought.

Hell, if he could only make sense of what he'd seen.

"What happened?" Sam dug deeper, having noticed how long you two had been silent when showing him what you'd seen.

It took longer than he thought needed to.

Bucky wiped over his face.

It was like he switched bodies with you when that memory of yours slipped through. He could feel everything.

Every little emotion.

"I-" Bucky was searching for the right words as he suddenly stood. "Excuse me."

He followed into the direction you'd taken off to, causing Sam to frown even more.

He stopped in front of the bathroom door, softly knocking before the courage could have left him.

"Y/N?" he called out, heart beating unsteady. "Can we please talk?"

You flinched, perched on the toilet seat as you desperately wiped at your face. "Why?" you called out, giving your very best to sound neutral.

You could hear him hesitate, the little sounds that left his mouth that he himself didn't even notice. "Please?" he then just asked, fingers drumming on the door.

You hesitated as well, not sure if you should open the door to face your imminent death of shame.

With a heavy sigh you got up, though, shaky fingers fumbling for the lock, taking a moment longer to unlock it before it was pushed open by Bucky merging into the small bathroom, cramping the space even more.

You stumbled back, colliding with the sink.

"What was that?" Bucky wanted to know, eyes on yours, searching them for anything that gave him an answer. "What?" you gave back, deciding to act dumb.

Maybe he wouldn't notice.

Of course he would, you idiot.

His brows furrowed, a look of confusion and bewilderment crossing his features. "You know exactly what I mean, don't play dumb now, Y/N!" he shot back, not amused.

See?

Told you so.

You swallowed the lump that somehow didn't want to budge, blocking your airways. "I- I don't know." you stuttered out, mentally cursing yourself for being so reckless to let him enter your mind in the first place.

Bucky frowned even more, not sure whether to believe you or not. After all he had felt it, not sure if he really wanted to know, though.

He didn't dare to hope.

You inhaled shakily, trying to force your heart rate down, to calm yourself a little.

Easier said than done.

"Are you sure you don't know?" Bucky pressed, voice tinged with something you couldn't place. "Because I'm sure I didn't imagine what I've seen or felt."

You flinched at that.

He knew, he knew for fucks sake, and there was no way you could have made him believe that it was nothing.

To be fair, you wouldn't have believed yourself, either.

No one would feel immense happiness, content, and warmth just because of a person they saw as a friend.

Come on.

You swallowed, averting your gaze. There was no backing out now, not when Bucky literally blocked the exit with his presence and muscular body.

"You- you felt it." you mumbled, biting your cheek as your cheeks warmed up slightly, gaze glued to the floor.

Bucky huffed, searching for words for a moment. How was he to explain what he felt?

"It- it was like I was back in the forties." he began, licking his lips. "I felt content, happy. And then I saw this... this memory of yours from me. I didn't know you were there, I didn't see you. What does this mean?"

He sounded desperate, and you didn't know whether it was because he didn't want your feelings for him or if it was the exact opposite.

Your name fell from his parted lips when you didn't answer, and had you looked up into his cerulean eyes, you'd seen the desperation, too.

"I can't tell you." you eventually mumbled, biting your cheek raw. "What? Why?" Bucky gave back, eyes widening before he frowned. "Y/N, what does this mean? Please, tell me!"

You looked up at him, your own brows furrowed in a frown.

Why did he want to know so badly?

"You know what it means." you gave back, doing your best not to avoid his gaze this time. His lips parted a fraction before he shook his head. "No." he said. "I want you to say it."

You heart stumbled once more, threatening to burst from the pace it was going at.

Did he want to have something to laugh about? Did he want to make a fool of you?

Swallowing, you shook your head. "No." you breathed out. "I can't."

His gaze hardened slightly, blue irises growing darker. "Say it." he repeated himself, not going to back down.

He'd rather go back to HYDRA than let this opportunity, this chance pass.

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head again. But before you had the chance to decline once more, he said it again, this time louder. "Say it!"

"I have feelings for you!" you blurted out loudly, his agitation causing you to crack and slip up.

Suddenly, the room grew eerily silent, the ringing in your ears blocking out his harsh breathing. His heart was racing way too fast for a man his age, and he forgot how to breathe for a moment.

He had hoped to hear these words, after all they were the only logical explanation, yet he was speechless. Didn't know how to react.

It's never like it is in your dreams.

Especially not when a dream suddenly comes true.

You shrinked back mentally and physically, his lack of response unsettling. It made you more nervous than you already were, hands sweating as you desperately tried to keep your shit together.

Why didn't he say anything?

When you wanted to push past him, and out of the small bathroom, his metal hand wrapped around your wrist. Your sudden movement had broken him out of his stupor, and he simply couldn't just let you go.

Before you knew it, he had tugged you back in front of him, his lips pressing against yours in a searing kiss.

It wasn't gentle, it was hard and rushed, as he tried to somehow tell you what his vocal cords weren't able to at the moment.

You gasped for air, not prepared for being hauled back and kissed breathless like that.

Bucky greedily took the invitation that wasn't one, his tongue pushing inside your mouth, exploring it before it tangled with yours. Your arms wrapped around his neck, his own around your waist as he tugged you closer.

You tasted sweeter than anything he'd ever tasted in his life.

Gasping for breath he let go of your mouth, eyes closed as he leaned his forehead against yours.

"Don't go." he breathed out shakily, arms wrapping tighter around you like he was scared you'd suddenly vanish if he let go. "Please. There's so much I need to tell you. So please, don't go. I need you, Y/N."

You watched his lashes flutter as he inhaled shakily before his eyes opened. His words had your heart beating faster again, leaving you wanting more.

"What? B-Bucky-" you started, confused because you were so sure he'd reject you.

"No." he cut you off, holding your face in his hands. "I love you."

There it was, out in the open. His most vulnerable moment since HYDRA and he delved into it headfirst. "You have no clue how much I love you, how much these words and these... glimpses mean to me, doll."

You inhaled shakily, every emotion rushing through you at once.

"I just never thought you'd feel the same, deem me worthy of someone as angelic as you."

Your heart ached at his self-deprecating words.

"Bucky," you breathed out his name, shaking your head in his grip. "You're far more worthy than you think you are. You deserve everything good and more."

He grimaced slightly, still not used to being a normal human again. "That's an argument for another time." he said, sending you a crooked smile.

He didn't want to fight right now, not when he much rather wanted to pepper your skin with kisses. And that he did. He kissed everywhere he reached, ignoring your giggles of protest before his lips met yours, silencing you.

It was a feeling that quickly got you addicted.

After a few moments, you broke the kiss, and he placed your head on his chest, inahling your familiar scent.

"Was it intenional?" Bucky wanted to know after a few moments of savoring your warmth, arms circled around you.

It felt really good to hold you like that.

You grimaced slightly. "No, of course not." you gave back. "I can't always control it. Besides, I never thought you'd want me."

"Why?" he asked, confusion lacing his voice as he pulled back slightly to look down at you. "Because I'm weird." you explained, blushing as you averted your gaze. Bucky huffed, using his finger to tilt your chin back up, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Baby, weird is my second name." he gave back softly. "Maybe I need a little extra weird."

You wanted to respond something, how you would love to be his extra portion weird, as it suddenly knocked on the door loudly.

"Hurry up, I need to pee!"

Tag List:

@ava @sapphirebarnes @skywalker0809 @freyathehuntress @queenslandlover-93 @judig92

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #marvel imagine #winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier #winter solider x reader

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paci-papa · 1 month ago

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You never thought what you wore to bed would become so symbolic of how far you had fallen.

Before dating Papa, you never thought much about your pajamas. Fresh undies and a baggie T-shirt were enough to keep you warm most nights. And if it was too hot? You'd lose the shirt.

Sure, some nights you would put on something 'special' to sleep in if you had a 'friend' over, but, other than on those occasions, you didn't give your sleepware any extra thought.

Now though, what you wore to bed seemed incredibly important.

Long ago you had stopped worrying about silly things like 'whether your jammies hid your diapers.' The bedtime diapers Papa put you in were too thick for anything short of parachute pants to hide them.

You did worry, though, about how quickly your diaper could be accessed.

You loved your Tangled nightie--despite its horribly childish appearance and the fact it did nothing to hide your padded panties--because it granted the easiest access for Papa to change you in the mornings.

In contrast, you absolutely dreaded cold nights when Papa insisted you wear those cursed fleece footie pajamas with mittens and a zipper in the back. When you wore those, you found yourself spending entire mornings wallowing in a messy nighttime nappy, because it was 'easier' for Papa to keep you in them than change you.

As an adult, you never imagined a situation where you would throw a temper tantrum over not being put in your favorite jammies, but now, you have found yourself in a nightly battle to wear your Princess nightshirt instead of your Paw Patrol sleeper like an overgrown toddler.

Your pajamas really had come to symbolize the loss of control and dignity you once possessed as an adult.

#papa's posts #ab/dl lifestyle #ab/dl diaper #ab/dl kink #ab/dl little #ab/dl couple #ab/dl story time #ab/dl caption #ab/dl daddy #ab/dl babyenby #ab/dl babyboy #ab/dl babygirl

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swimming-karyss · 4 months ago

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Sabo: loneliness, connection and affection

Trying to organise my thoughts on this matter hehe

I just thought that Sabo's relationship with loneliness and connection are very interesting, and not much people talk about how terribly lonely his childhood days were(even compared to Ace&Luffy).

Ace has been alienated from people from the beginning. Raised in the middle of the jungle, by bandits who never showed much affection, and who repeated the same hurtful words as others did. The state of loneliness is the norm for him. He has never known any other life. Naturally, he'd be protective of what little he has(Sabo) and reluctant to open up and accept new connections(Luffy).

As for Luffy, he has been left alone. Shanks left him after a year staying at Windmill village. Garp constantly took him out of his regular life only to leave him alone in the jungle. And he as well took him away from the village and Makino, after he ate his devil fruit. And while he didn't have [present] parents, he had been cared for. Luffy knows the difference between loneliness and companionship. Which is why he chased Ace's recognition so much.

Sabo's situation is more similar to Luffy's.

But do you ever think that Sabo loved his parents? That he wanted them to love him too? He wouldn't have drawn them if he didn't. He wouldn't be so disheartened at their dismissal if he hated them from the start. But his parents made their love conditional. Sabo had to earn their love and his happiness, while they ignored his pain and attempts to connect.

And as you know this kind of relationship could leave a lasting impact on how one navigates their future relationships! But on that later😊

Now, Sabo ran away and that opened a whole other can of worms. He's a child, that for five years didn't have anyone to rely on. Of course, Ace was with him, but after he left for the day, Sabo was left completely alone. I mean, at least Ace had Dadan and occasionally Makino and Garp, they shared meals together, he could turn to them in case something happened and they provided him with company and a roof above his head. Sabo lived on the Gray Terminal by himself, in a place where people considered him either a troublemaker to avoid, or a pest to get rid of (those like pirates and bandits). So through Ace and Luffy Sabo gains not only brothers but also other connections and people who care about him! And he welcomes both Dadan and Makino with a bright smile :) Now that I think about it, just like Ace told him about Luffy, he also must've told Sabo about them too🥹

And while all this is nice, his previous problems didn't go away magically.

(… But his issues aren't stated or shown as explicitly as Ace and Luffy's, so they are easier to dismiss.)

Even though Sabo trusted Ace with his life, he still kept his origins a secret from him, whether it was because he felt them insignificant compared to Ace's or because he feared abandonment in case Ace would be disappointed. And he was more than willing to keep his secret until the very end - Luffy&Ace literally had to beat(strangle) the truth out of him. Sabo also put distance between them in another way too: Ace thought the two of them would sail together, Sabo didn't.

That is honestly also a point to how controlling his parents were. Sabo wanted freedom so much that he didn't mind the loneliness that came with it. Well, he got what he wanted ;)

Now it would be easy to say that his amnesia also erased his trauma. But it didn't! Sabo still felt hid parents' influence. (And unlike the other weird amnesia case (the sea sure likes to take people's memories huh) - Big Mom - he didn't revert to his younger self, he only lost access to his memories, his feelings and 'character development' remained). If anything it only led to Sabo not being able to identify the cause of his issues → not being able to treat them properly. Now, the RA seem like decent guys, they very well could be the needed support system for Sabo, but again, it's an army with a whole lot of other issues to deal with. So either way his trauma most likely was allowed to fester for a while as we see its consequences show in his adulthood.

Even though Sabo seems to be doing well as an adult, there's still some signs of emotional distance. He has never reciprocated a hug, even though he doesn't have a problem with physical touch in general, he didn't even think about approaching Luffy in Dressrosa at first and was very tense when actually talking to him. And it's honestly fascinating just how stiff his body language was in Dressrosa (maybe I'll talk about it in general some other time) - be it shock or anger he keeps his arms to his body, unlike Koala or Hack, who choose violence.

He also showed barely any reaction during Vegapunk's speech despite the panelling focusing on him specifically. I'd say he mostly keeps his negative emotions in check, bc in Robin's little flashback he was quite expressive! The main counterpoint is 'special Luff' where he is very open about his anger, but he has a really decent reason for it: his feelings being made fun of. And as you'll see later it's a very sensitive topic for him →

To begin with, he avoids talking about things that have emotionally impacted him in any way.

1.This one might be a stretch, but he begins to talk about his encounter with Fujitora, only not to say anything in the end, idk what's wrong with him; 2. After a very emotional fight with Burgess Sabo dismisses any worries without even mentioning the fight; 3. He refuses to talk with Hack about Luffy, even though we know that he loves to yap about him to Dragon. And that is right after he didn't want to wake Luffy up to even say goodbye! He also changes the topic quickly so Karasu wouldn't be able to further question him.

Even though these scenes are played as gags, he really seems to have trouble with emotional intimacy and opening up about his feelings. And that makes him seem inattentive and irresponsible, thus affecting his relationships with others even more…

And speaking of which, he is accustomed with either suppressing his feelings or at least just keeping them in check. He hides his worries from his colleagues, appearing as cheerful as always. And during his meeting with Dragon and Iva he brushes aside his guilt and grief for king Kobra (but, I mean it's a work meeting, they need to be professional) and never once he acknowledges his injuries.

And if he's willing to disregard such a thing as grief, how do you think he really feels about his new title, which was gained by the blood of a man he failed to save?

And frankly, right now we don't know much about Sabo! We know about his childhood, and the way he presents himself now(and that is some material to work with), but the 12 years in the Revolutionary Army are a mystery, and again it's an army, I bet he's seen many things, especially considering how high his position is!

tldr: like Luffy, Sabo has a special relationship with loneliness and abandonment. But unlike Luffy, who especially in pre-ts hated separation, Sabo pushes people away. And what makes it even harder for others to connect with him, is that he tends to hide his feelings and problems.

(like a cat)

but again, I might be reading something wrong, my bad

#it's so funny that some fix-it fics that are not Sabo-focused usually boil down his problems to:#a)amnesia b)ace (almost) dying c)physically being with his parents #he's NOT the one to open up and show his feelings let's be honest #one piece #sabo #one piece sabo #karyss' rambling #frankly it's so easy to lose the plot while talking about Sabo #one thing connects to another - what a delightful little riddle he is #I actually started writing this in november... and then kinda abandoned it lol

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yandereunsolved · 5 months ago

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» 🪙 Yandere Connor — RK800 » 🪙 (part 2)

➜ (part 1), (part 3) ➜ cw(s): yandere themes, kidnapping, self-harm mentioned (reader), starvation (reader), suicidal ideations (reader), force feeding, & manipulation ➜ tags: @bimboghostface, @savas-q1, & @aceofheartsssss

You have screamed your voice raw in hopes that some unknown savior will take pity. You have cried your tear ducts dry until your eyes swell and become bloodshot. You have cut into your skin with whatever you can find for just a modicum of control. More times than you can count, you have done these things. Each time the consequences increase, but the probability of escaping does not.

Each new place he—it, that thing you dared call your friend and perhaps even your crush, has hid you in has become progressively more dilapidated. Plush armchairs and soft carpets once softened the torture of your solitude; now splintering wooden floors and asbestos-filled walls are left in their wake. Places so damaged you question why Connor chooses them. It should go against his programming, or whatever's left of it.

But why should you care?

He deviated and showed you once again how dangerous unchecked androids are. Now small groups of rebellious preprogrammed code run amok, causing havoc—at least from what little you've been able to gather. Connor isn't keen on informing you of the goings-on of the outside world. He prefers to reassure you, which does little good (because fuck him).

A familiar shuffling behind the door alerts you. Your head snaps up like a startled deer, staring at the door like a predator will come through. He's drenched in blood when he comes in, red blood. His beanie has been lost. His multitude of jackets have tears and bullet holes. But he looks okay for the most part. The word must really hate you.

"I have news that will please you," he murmurs in that babying tone you have snapped at him to stop using.

He approaches you, kneeling down, a bag stuffed into one of his pockets.

"We'll be at a compound soon—one where my kind are able to live freely. And you have been granted access too. It has all of the necessities and even a bit of luxury."

He takes out the bag, unfazed by his own appearance but noting that it's disturbing you. He pulls out a packet of crackers and some applesauce. No. No, no, no, no.

"Connor, please, let me go," you beg with the panic rising in your voice.

You quickly shake your head as tears prick your dry eyes. You fruitlessly kick at him and yank at the chains holding you down to this place. You can feel the bile rising in your throat and the arduous aches in your muscles struggling to keep it held down, struggling to keep you awake.

Other things arise. The regret of being too weak to fend him off. The sorrow in being denied the right to take your own life.

A plastic spoon is inserted into your mouth with the apple mush oozing off it. You try to spit it out, but he wipes your face and more forcefully inserts the next spoonful into you.

"Nutrition is necessary for human survival, to thrive, yet you deprive yourself of it. Convincing me to let you leave would be much easier if you stopped proving that you are unable to care for yourself."

"I just want to go," the soul-crushing defeat evident in your voice.

Without missing a heartbeat of yours, he responds, "You can't. I-I need you here."

He shoves not just one cracker, but three, into your mouth. You almost choke, but he makes sure you are unable to. Maybe it would just be better if you choked on them. Or your vomit. Or even the shitty plastic spoon he keeps forcing into your mouth.

"You're being selfish," you finally manage to get the words out.

"You're being selfish. I have sacrificed the entirety of my being for you. And still you try to harm yourself. Do you hate me that much?"

He retracts the food from you. He stares unceasingly at you. His LED switching from red to colorless, one of the only parts of him that he has kept since his deviancy.

"Do I hate you?" you incredulously, rhetorically question. "Yes! I hate you! Is that what you want to hear? A confession of how much I loathe you for fucking up what little good was in my life?"

The tears well up and escape down your face, getting wiped off by Connor's attentive hands. You can't stop the shaking or the meltdown his presence has placed upon you.

"I hate you. I-I hate you. I h-hate y-you!"

The last syllable is barely out of your mouth when hands come up to cup your face, squishing your cheeks. Still having a meltdown, your teary eyes are just barely able to make out the abnormal pinkish hue on his LED. A color you've never encountered, even with him being deviant these last months—years, whatever.

"I understand," nearly inaudible, "and I suppose I always have. Your human nature causes you to think irrationally. You aren't able to see the 'bigger picture,' as humans call it. You have suffered at my hands. That I apologize for."

The acknowledgment of his transgressions breaks you down further. You can't quiet the wails escaping you, snot dribbling from your nostrils. Your body rocks itself back and forth in a pitiful attempt at comfort. You can't stop. It won't stop. He won't stop.

It validates him. He continues his tirade, sure that it will have the intended pacifying effect.

"I should be more attentive. But I'm so busy making sure that neither of us is caught by the authorities."

Excuses.

"When we get to the compound, all of that will change. You will have a higher standard of care. Me at your side. Your brain will stop merely surviving."

Promises.

"Then your love for me can bloom."

Resolution. His mission completed with you as his lover.

You quiet. He mistakes, or quite possibly dissmisses, your transition from an unfiltered meltdown to a horrified shutdown as an opportunity to cradle you. And for the first time since your kidnapping, you embrace him back—not out of some sweet, loving bond, but out of need. The need for someone else's closeness, touch—affection, even if it's all wrong. The desperation seeps out of you in droves and into your actions. Your mind and body want to claw at his synthetic skin, tear him apart, and thrive off the warmth of his parts.

...

If he can have a mission beyond his own makers, then you can have one beyond your captor's.

#dbh #dbh connor #dbh rk800 #connor rk800 #rk800 #rk800 x reader #connor x reader #detroit become human #dbh x reader #yandere dbh #yandere dbh x reader #connor rk800 x reader #dbh fanfic #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere connor #yandere detroit become human #yandere connor x reader #yandere rk800 x reader

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minnies-babie · 11 months ago

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focus on me

pairing: yang jeongin x fem!reader

genre: smut

warnings: cockwarming, unprotected sex (please dont), pre-discussed somnophilia, lmk if i forgot anything, lowercase intended

— 1.215 words

— minors dni

you had wandered into his room 20 minutes ago, or was it an hour? your mind is hazy. jeongin had his arms around you, his fingers working swifty on the controller as he hummed a tune. his concentration not disturbed by the fact that you were sat with his throbbing cock inside you. he promised you to fuck you once he was done with the game, but the game kept getting longer and longer.

you huff, feeling desperate and a little annoyed.

"10 more minutes baby" he says for the 4th time, his dedication to the game not wavering as you whined and squirmed everytime he jerked in his seat. every so often he would take a few seconds to kiss your neck, giving you false hope of him losing off the game. but his eyes would always go back to the game.

as you let out a lustful whine, you began to rock your hips. your movements becoming even more frantic as you are filled with undeniable desire; each rock of your hips was met with the same pressure from his soft but solid length. it caused your pussy to clench ever so hard. tears of frustration collecting in your eyes. you were getting so close, your cries for him muffled by the loud noises from his game. however, throughout all that, there wasn't a hint of any change in jeongin's expressions.

he didn't notice your tears, though a part of him nags him to pause and look at your face. instead, the only reaction you got from him were his lips that gently grazed the underside of your jaw, before returning back to the satisfying task of kissing your neck. satisfying for both of you, but not enough to completely cater to your needs.

your head lowered until it finally hung low; not because of embarrassment, but mostly from exhaustion. in this state, you couldn't even bear to pleasure yourself anymore. you slumped forward onto jeongin's chest and fell asleep with your eyes drooping shut. your pussy still clung to his length, its throbbing rhythm a testament to the intensity of the pleasures you craved.

even in your doze, he could feel the way you were dripping onto him, making the seat of his pants slightly sticky. with a sigh, he paused the game and watched as you slumbered right above his heart, nestled cozily against him. a smile tugged on the corner of his lips.

isn't it amusing how someone smaller than him could leave him trembling with need, as well as giving jeongin this feeling of possessiveness…

the dried tracks of your tears on your cheeks spoke volumes, showing your desperation for an intimate physical connection with him. meanwhile, the slick that had accumulated on his cock, trickled onto his chair. however, as fate would have it, you drifted off to sleep, trusting him to take care of you.

jeongin was more than happy to reciprocate that trust. he had a finger hooked behind your knee, raising it up to rest on his hip. this left you even more exposed, allowing him easier access to your wet entrance. his breathing intensified as he traced the tip of his cock along your folds, teasing you without penetrating.

with his free hand he continued to play his game, the rhythm was slow yet deliberate, setting a steady pace of pleasure for both you and him.

as jeongin slowly pulled out, the absence of his cock within you resulted in a loss that your body protested against. a whine escaped your parted lips, voicing your sleepy complaint. your hips jerked unconsciously, searching for the firmness that jeongin possessed.

however, in your dreamless slumber, you remained unaware about what was going on around you. your lashes hid your eyes, and your face relaxed into a contented smile–not that it would last for long. soon, his cock would return, this time pushing deep inside and filling you entirely.

the sway of your breasts along with those subtle movements caused jeongin's cock to glide through your slippery folds, coating his entire length. he thrust harder, using your raised leg as leverage, ramming himself deeper and hitting all the right spots, his game long forgotten.

just as he was about to change his angle, your eyes opened abruptly. at first, they were heavily hooded with slumber, making them appear indescribably seductive. and oh, how they widened when you finally registered your surroundings. your gaze zeroed in on jeongin, causing your fingers to clutch his shoulders with need. with every thrust he made, a sweet mixture of moans filled the room.

besides the sounds of game, jeongin was making low groaning noises as well. the combination of those erotic sounds coupled with the slap of skin against skin added to the sensations you both felt. jeongin knew that soon you'll be gasping for air, your teeth sinking into your lower lip, biting down while your nails dug into his shoulders.

a mix of eagerness and hunger flashed across your features, and jeongin could hardly wait for when your eyes rolled back from the intense pleasure he was inflicting upon you. his stamina was abysmal, but he promised to make up for that with his technique that was more than enough to send chills up your spine.

the beast within you came alive as you clenched around him deep in the throes of ecstasy. with a grunt, jeongin increased his pace, shifting slightly to directly hit that spongy spot inside you. the sound of your frantic pleas mingled with his wanton grunts, creating a carnal symphony.

jeongin started to bite down on your throat, feeling how your heart raced under his teeth. his hand squeezing the back on your neck harder, as if to give you that extra breath you needed. he managed to pinch a nipple between his fingers, rolling it with a low moan.

he felt how you quivered against him, your body tensing. he pulled back, slamming forward into you once more, driving you over the edge.

jeongin felt as if time slowed as you achieved climax. the way you shuddered and your back arched as you milked his cock. that single second was when jeongin's own orgasm threatened to break free, painting your insides with his seed. through his own breathy sounds of release, he could only flick his tongue against your neck, effectively marking that spot as his.

as you both lay against each other, basking in the aftermath of your intimacy. jeongin looks down at you leaning on him, his chest blooming with love for you. he was going to clean you up, assess the damage, and fall asleep, right next to you.

when morning arrived, jeongin would probably wake up covered in sweat and sticky with love. And the scent of your arousal would be imprinted on his clothes. later, he'd think about all that happened, indulging in how perfect those moments had been. it was the simple things that mattered, and this wouldn't be the last late-night rendezvous.

liked this? check out my other story connected

Do not repost or translate my works

#i.n #jeongin #yang jeongin #jeongin smut #skz #stray kids #skz smut #stray kids smut #jeongin x you #jeongin x reader

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metalomagnetic · 1 month ago

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Are there any tidbits or pieces of lore from the It runs world that exist in your head but won’t make into the story? If so, any favourites?

On Halloween, those that wish to be visited by dead loved ones, can put certain candles and herbs in their window, that would allow the spirits to enter the house. Because the veil is thin between the worlds, the spirts can interact somewhat with their surroundings, only for that night. If a witch or wizard are very good at seance, they can even have conversation with the spirits.

(I had a whole thing about Sirius doing this ritual for his dad, when he was 20. He also reminisced about times in his childhood when way too many dead Blacks would visit Grimmauld and cause havoc, but Sirius used to find it funny.)

The forest in Albania where Voldemort fled to (and hid the diadem) isn't exactly random; it is said that it used to house a terrible witch, that it was made a prison for her, and even if she died, long ago, the forest is still cursed, and so not many wizards dare to enter it. The muggles that go there die, too, so the locals have always known to avoid it. When Voldemort first went there, as a young man to hide the diadem, he met a witch that was fleeing justice and they remained in communication for years.

Voldemort can, indeed, speak to dragons, since they are serpents, but he cannot control them. Snakes are always submissive to him, they are drawn to the blood gift of his family, but dragons can only understand him. As a young man, his arrogance made him believe he could control a dragon- he was wrong and still has some burn scars on his shoulder, though he covered them with tattooed runes. Of course, he killed the dragon in question, and kept its heart and horns as trophies- they are in the torture cabin, as all the other trophies.

There was a Black woman that married a Gaunt, back when the Gaunts were still doing alright. Centuries later, old Sirius considered reaching out to the Gaunts for another marriage, because the Gaunts have Parseltongue, a gift he wanted for the Blacks, and because they are pure (in a way not even the rest of the world knows, but old Sirius knew), yet once he saw the current condition of the Gaunts he changed his mind. Ironically, old Marvolo wouldn't have agreed either, because he does not consider the Blacks pure enough (he, like old Sirius, had access to certain knowledge the rest of the world had forgotten). But, for a brief second in time, there was a slim possibility for Merope to be married off to Arcturus.

Voldemort killed Mr Burke for robbing his mother. (this also happens in my one shot 'the customer is always right).

Dumbledore had a crush on old Sirius, when they were back in school.

Orion once killed a man for dancing with Walburga; he didn't tell her about it, she had to read the dude died over a newspaper, at breakfast. She raised her eyes from the paper, shocked, met Orion's cold gaze and neither said a word, as Sirius and Regulus were fighting with food inches away.

Orion and Cygnus once killed a man because he was inappropriate with a sixteen year old Bella. Only Abraxas (who was needed to hide the proof), Druella, Bella and Andromeda know of this. Abraxas told Lucius, when he was courting Andromeda, so the boy was terrified to even kiss her, and Andromeda would mock him about him, called him spineless and kept trying to tempt him into it. Even later, when he was engaged with Cissa, he refused to kiss her or hold her hand until the day they married. It was however, a very short engagement, so he didn't have to wait too long.

#it runs in the blood #sirius black #lord voldemort #black family insanity

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maimaily · 3 months ago

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The LADS boys as Mo Xiang Tong Xiu's characters ♡⁠˖⁠꒰⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠⑅⁠꒱

summary: the lads boys as characters from the novels written by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu.

the scum villain self-saving system, grandmaster of demonic cultivation, heaven official's blessing

a/n: please DO NOT take this to heart, the characters are really different from each other, i know. this is just a comparison based on very few and specific personality traits and little more. SPOILERS AHEAD !!

Caleb as Luo Binghe

The possessive, obsessive ones. The guys who only have eyes for their loved one, wishing for a world where only the two of them exist.

→ puppy eyes, the ultimate puppy boys when scolded or want to get their way.

→ the good, golden boys who turned into a darker side of themselves.

→ their minds being controlled (Binghe by his sword xin mo, Caleb by the toring chip) made them act harshly against their loved ones.

→ heartthrobs, people fawn over them wherever they go (however kind of know they have someone in their hearts).

→ dissapeared after an accident that made people think they were dead (Caleb-explosion, Binghe-endless abyss), then they ascended from a 'lower rank', gaining power to protect their loved ones (fighter pilot to colonel; cultivator to demon realm ruler).

Xavier as Xie Lian

The ex-princes who lost everything looking for a way to do the best for their people, condemned to watch time go by.

→ can't cook to save their lives. I'M SORRY for making it the first similarity but let's be for real: burnt food or food that tastes horrible funny is their thing.

→ their intention to save someone even if it put the welfare of their people at risk had the worst of consequences (Xavier in his attempt to save MC now is trapped in the past on Earth; Xie Lian in saving Hua Cheng when he was falling during the ShangYuan parade in XianLe led the fall of the kingdom).

→ they look gentle, cute even, but in reality they are the strongest warriors weakened by some kind of inhibitor (Xavier by the collar around his neck; Xie Lian by the cursed shackles).

→ they hid their identities under a mask and no longer want to be associated with it (Xavier as Lumiere; Xie Lian as the Fang Xin Guoshi).

Sylus as Hua Cheng

The kings of what we would consider the underworld. He would —and will— burn the world for his loved one.

→ People don't know their true form. There are endless rumors about them and each one crazier than the last (Sylus with people thinking he drank teenager's blood, or Hua Cheng and the multiple appearances people said he had).

→ Their loved ones have full access to their homes, specially their armorie ♡ (Sylus giving MC access to Onychinus and Hua Cheng gifting his armorie to Xie Lian).

→ Were considered a monster in the past, hiding their true form and growing insecure (Sylus as a dragon who cut off his horns; Hua Cheng being beaten for his red eye).

→ Their loved one saved them in some way, be it physically or spiritually.

→ Their names are inspired or given by their loved one. Sylus is named by MC in his myths; Hua Cheng is a name he probably picked for it's meaning (City of Flowers).

Zayne as Lan Wangji

They are forever respected and admired, but they will go against anything that might endanger their loved one.

→ shy shy shy !!! not very talktative, simpler words only when necesary.

→ hardworking, and will go to extremes to fulfill their duties (Zayne in never ending winter anecdote; Wangji going against the Wen/Jin clan).

→ regardless of expectations, he will give up what he is ordered/expected to do if it means protecting his loved one (Zayne giving up the research project upon discovering that it could harm MC; Wangji taking Wei Ying in his last moments and trying to protect him).

→ scars :( (Zayne's arms and Wangji's back).

→ even if they're admired, people are still a bit afraid of them (but they have a soft side !!).

→ don't give them alcohol, please (unless you're willing to take the risk...)

here it is !! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ i've been waiting to post this since foreeever, i hope you like it. likes and reblogs are highly appreciated ,, btw sorry Rafayel girlies, i don't know which character suits him better :(.

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tektronixtechnology · 2 years ago

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access control system abu dhabi

access control systems in Sharjah

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Hid Access Control Systems UAE

HID Access Control Systems: Safeguarding Your Premises and Assets

In today's fast-paced world, security is paramount. Protecting your premises, assets, and confidential information has never been more critical. That's where HID Access Control Systems come into play. we'll delve deep into this cutting-edge technology, exploring its features, benefits, and how it can transform your security infrastructure.

What is HID Access Control?

HID Access Control is a state-of-the-art security solution that allows you to manage and monitor access to your premises. Whether it's a corporate office, educational institution, healthcare facility, or any other establishment, HID Access Control Systems provide a robust and flexible approach to security.

How Does HID Access Control Work?

HID Access Control Systems operate on the principle of restricting access based on user credentials. Here's a simplified breakdown of how it works:

1. User Authentication

When an individual tries to gain access to a secured area, they present their unique identification, which can include ID cards, key fobs, or biometric data like fingerprints.

2. Verification

The system then verifies the presented credentials against its database to ensure authenticity.

3. Granting or Denying Access

If the credentials match, the system grants access. Otherwise, it denies entry and may trigger an alert.

Advantages of HID Access Control Systems

Now, let's explore the myriad advantages of implementing HID Access Control Systems:

1. Enhanced Security

HID Access Control Systems offer a higher level of security compared to traditional lock and key systems. With encryption and user authentication, unauthorized access becomes nearly impossible.

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You can monitor access events in real-time, allowing you to respond swiftly to security breaches or unusual activities.

3. Access Flexibility

Grant different levels of access to different individuals or groups, ensuring that only authorized personnel can enter restricted areas.

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HID Access Control Systems can seamlessly integrate with other security systems, such as CCTV cameras and alarm systems, creating a comprehensive security network.

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The systems are user-friendly and easy to manage, reducing the need for extensive training.

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HID Access Control Systems find applications in various sectors, including:

1. Corporate Offices

Protect sensitive data and ensure that only employees can access certain areas.

2. Educational Institutions

Safeguard students and staff while keeping unauthorized individuals out.

3. Healthcare Facilities

Ensure patient privacy and protect valuable medical equipment and medications.

4. Government Buildings

Secure government facilities and confidential information.

HID Access Control Systems are a game-changer when it comes to modern security solutions. Their ability to provide enhanced security, real-time monitoring, and access flexibility makes them an invaluable asset for any organization. Implementing HID Access Control Systems not only safeguards your premises and assets but also provides peace of mind.

#accesscontrolsystems #accesscontrolsystemsuae #accesscontrolsystemsinsharjah #accesscontrolsystemsalain

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jesncin · 19 days ago

Note

Look I'm gonna put my two cents in on the 'everyone knowing Clark is Superman' thing. Do I have anything new to add, don't know, but I understand passing so here are some things I know:

First of all, even if Clark was bad at hiding his alieness, people wouldn't know. Trust me, I have been mistaken for Christian (despite giving no evidence that I was) a lot, just because I'm not what people stereotypically expect look-wise from a person of my actual religion. It's not even that I'm so far from the expectation, but Christianity is the norm so what else could I be? I am Christian until proven otherwise, white until proven otherwise. And Clark is human until proven otherwise. People are constantly making assumptions, so unless Clark straight up flies into the Daily Planet building, no, no one is going to notice.

Second of all, Clark wouldn't be bad at hiding, he's been hiding his whole life. If people find out, it's not just Clark's family at risk, but his own life, and rights. So, yeah, I think him being an alien is important enough to keep under wraps.

I get why people like the trope, and to be honest, I hadn't thought of it much until these recent conversations. At the end of the day, people like to think they are smart enough to figure it out. And you feel special, knowing a big secret like that, you feel important. I think it's also part of it is this savior narrative that makes people feel good about themselves, like when people say they would've helped escaping black slaves or hid Jews during the Holocaust (by the way, some of these people are absolutely lying). Obviously those are much more extreme examples, but eh I'm tired. And keeping a secret is a much more accessible way (less bravery involved) to be a decent person.

Yuup I think people forget the context that when you're attempting to clock someone as "x identity" you're pulling from a well of biases that are probably pretty limited. I'm assumed several types of Asians before what I actually am, especially when I'm in America but certainly not limited to there. The "Clark is human until proven otherwise" part is on the money. It's why I can't stand MAWS!Jimmy apparently figuring out Clark is a super-powered alien from breaking things constantly. Regardless of how ridiculous that characterization is for Clark (he should've gotten his powers in control by that age), is concluding that he's an alien really the next logical step? How about "huh we live in an ass apartment if things keep breaking" or "your shoes broke again? you gotta stop buying cheap ones".

I've said it before but it bears repeating, these "Everyone Knows Clark is Superman/undocumented immigrant" hcs always de-center Clark's personal life for the sake of an allyship narrative. Clark has been hiding his alien side since childhood. There's no way he wouldn't be good at hiding it by adulthood, especially considering the very real risks that even his adoptive parents understood when they forged documents to keep him safe.

Yup to that last bit too. Similarly I think readers feel confident with their metatextual knowledge of knowing who Clark and Superman are so they feel it's obvious and are frustrated when characters in Superman's context don't. And they want to prove they could be better. It's the self gratification at the expense of a lot of Clark's characterization and basic logic.

#askjesncin #jesncin dc meta #i got the word “savior” from this ask while answering another ask like YES that's the word to place this mindset behind these hcs #if u study a lot of “shaming closeted ppl” narratives you'll find the marginalized chara acts illogical for the sake of allies to come in #and prove themselves allies or call them out for being closeted to begin with. maws is textbook example of this

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thereoncewasagirlnamedjane · 3 months ago

Text

TIMELESS.

PAIRING — bucky barnes x time traveller f!reader

CONTENTS — one-shot; references to non-graphic violence; mild sexual content; star-crossed lovers; angst; minimal fluff; time travel.

SUMMARY — You've been lost for as long as you can remember, jumping from year to year, from time to time. You can never stay long, unable to control when or where you land. One day, after being suddenly propelled into the turbulent 1940s in America, you meet Bucky Barnes—handsome, charming, and, unbeknownst to either of you, doomed.

WORD COUNT — 3.0k

✩ masterlist ✩ library blog

It was always a little bit frightening when it happened; the ground beneath you disappeared, leaving you with that sick feeling of your stomach falling, your vision obscured by a blinding light and swirling colours.

Even when you land on your feet once more, it takes you a few moments to orient yourself. You stumble on wobbly legs, reaching out a hand for anything to steady you. Your hands finally come into contact with something solid, the bite of mortar and brick rough under your palms.

You slump against the wall, chest heaving with exhaustion. You had just finally grown used to life in ancient Greece, after having spent nearly two months there.

It was a relatively easy existence back then: philosophers asking questions about the meaning of life; astronomers gazing up at the stars to figure out if they could find some sort of logic in the random and messy arrangements of outer space; scholars making advancements in mathematics and medicine.

It was idyllic, but a part of you was glad you leapt right on time to skip through the inevitable fall of that society.

To say that you’re the one who decided when and where to leap would be misleading, however. It was more like some other power was pulling you through the space-time continuum and you could never stop it, no matter how hard you’d tried. You’ve spent centuries trying to learn the intricacies of your gift, but there was no manual, no instruction book, no how-to guide.

And you had never come across anyone with the same gift in all your years. Time travel, no matter how often you did it, remains a mystery.

Once you’ve caught your breath, you look around and find yourself standing in a deserted alley, still dressed in your tunic and toga. It’s much colder than you’d grown used to, little flakes of snow drifting towards the ground, disappearing just as quickly as they appear. You haven’t seen snow in a very long time indeed.

Not caring that, to any passersby, you look like a crazed lunatic, you grab the first person who passes when you emerge from the alley. Still accustomed to using the Grecian tongue, you asked, “τι χρονιά είναι?”

When the man looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, you try again. English, this time. A bit more universal. “What year is it?”

1942 . America, judging by the man’s accent. You bite back a groan of disappointment, The last time you came to the United States, it was 2005 and then way back in 1624.

That means the passport and money you had stashed away in a remote location outside New York City in the future isn’t there yet; the money you hid in the 1600s was probably either long gone or now worthless.

You have no means of survival, meaning you have to depend on the kindness of strangers—it is not something you’ve come to expect from your fellow man; all of your time on Earth meant you know all of the atrocities that humans are capable of.

Luckily for you, or maybe unluckily, you can’t be killed. Sometimes, you are in the wrong place at the wrong time, caught the eye of or hitchhiked a ride from the wrong person. You would wake up hours later, after whatever misdeeds they had committed against you, your body showing no signs of trauma.

No, those would be hidden from view, carved deep into your bones, visible and accessible only to you.

You aren’t sure which is worse: the fact that you are forced to travel through time against your will without any warning, or the fact that, on top of that suck salad, you are immortal as well. A winning combination, surely. If you ever got to meet your maker, you swear they are in for such a pummelling.

The man you stopped shrugs your grip off his arm and leaves you, shivering and hopeless. You aren’t wearing shoes. Everything looks different; you can’t even be sure you’ve been to this city or town before. You don’t recognize any of your surroundings, but have no choice but to go exploring on bare foot.

Before you can take another step, however, a voice splits through the night air. You flinch, despite yourself. “Hey!”

You go to turn, hoping this person isn’t addressing you, but suddenly you are blanketed in warmth, shocking yet soothing. You look down just in time to see a brown jacket draped over your shoulders, two large hands are rubbing up and down your arms. You can’t find it in your self to protest, the warmth welcoming and your body already straining against exhaustion.

“Good god, what are you doing out here dressed like that, sweetheart? Steve! C'mere. Gimme your scarf!” Before you can say thank you, express your gratitude for even this small iota of generosity, your body gives out. Your knees buckle and you are pulled under, deep into a swirling void of darkness.

You wake in a strange apartment, lying in an unfamiliar bed, panicking. You kick the covers off so hard that a corner of it catches on a lamp at the other side of the room, knocking it over with a loud crash. The bedroom door flies open, and the first thing that catches your eye is blue.

Eyes unlike anything you’ve ever seen. You’ve lived hundreds, maybe thousands, of years and yet you are sure you will never again find eyes so beautiful, so expressive, such an icy shade of blue yet somehow so warm.

You should be apprehensive, at the very least, but there is something about this man that makes you feel safer than you’ve ever felt—something about him that makes you wonder, before this very moment, if you had ever been safe at all.

He rushes out to you, holding out his hands as if to catch you, but pauses just short of actually making contact. He sheepishly explains that you collapsed in the street, and he couldn’t just leave you there. You see his military uniform hanging from the door of his open closet, his draft papers sitting out on his dresser for all to see.

You feel a surge of sympathy, despite your own dire situation, but it’s nothing you’ve never been through before. For him, however? War? Unfortunately, it’s a story you know all too well. He will come back a changed man, in more ways than one.

But not even you could know just how right you would be.

“Is there anyone I can call for you, doll?” He asks, pulling your attention away from the bits and pieces of his life scattered all over his bedroom. You shake your head, because, no, you are all alone in this world — as well as in all the others.

He offers to take you to the women’s shelter just a few blocks away. You agree, but somehow, as the day trudges on, you find yourself reluctant to part ways.

He gives you a change of clothes, all of which belong to his best friend Steve Rogers, the one whose scarf you still wear, and takes you to a diner. He orders you a vanilla milkshake and a hot sandwich, tells you to call him Bucky, and slides into the booth next to you instead of across from you.

He doesn’t ask questions about where you’re from, about why you ended up on the streets of Brooklyn in nothing but a sheet, totally barefoot. Instead, he asks you questions like, “When did you last sing to yourself? What is your most treasured memory? Do you have a secret hunch as to how you will die?”

You answer him as honestly as you can, your lips itching to share your secret with him. Your life as a time traveler meant that you couldn’t afford to let anyone close, but it’s impossible not to let your guard down before his crooked smile and slicked back hair.

But, if you are just going to disappear in a matter of weeks, then what does it really matter? Soon, he will be shipped off towards the battlefields of Europe, too preoccupied with matters of life and death to even remember the likes of you.

So, you tell him.

He smiles at you as you sip on your milkshake, as if you haven’t just told him that you can live forever, that you’ve lived through various moments in time. His fingertips slide along the curve of your jaw, and he says, “So, one day, you’ll be gone,” he snaps his fingers. “Just like that? Without warning?”

“I’m afraid so.” You whisper shakily, eyes wet with tears. He doesn’t laugh in your face.

Can he tell you are tired of leaping?

He doesn’t pull back and call you crazy.

Can he tell you are tired of not belonging?

In fact, he comes even closer.

Bucky’s so close that you can feel his warm breath fanning across your cheeks, you can see each tiny specks of gold in his blue eyes.

“Well, what are we waiting for?”

Brooklyn 1942, inside a tiny diner with a flickering neon sign in the window. The location of your first kiss with one James Buchanan Barnes, as he leans forward and you swear he’s breathing his very soul into you.

It hasn’t been twelve hours since you first met him and you’re already stumbling backwards into his apartment, lips still attached in a passionate embrace. You could chalk it all up to a single night of intimacy, something you’d grown accustomed to whenever you traveled to a new timeline—you had needs, after all.

But there is something about the way he handles you, about the way he presses his hands flat against the small of your back, pulling you that much closer, even though there’s no more room left between you.

As if, now that he knows your secret, he wants to savour every last second.

You’ve had your fair share of lovers, but you have never made love quite like this. You fall back onto his bed once more, but this time he hovers over you. Bucky’s eyes search yours even as he undresses you, even as he straightens to pull his own shirt over his head. His eyes never leave yours even after you are joined together, fingers intertwining, like he’s trying to anchor you here.

Even long after the deed is done, Bucky never breaks eye contact.

You know then, as you bask in the afterglow of his embrace, that you are not only lost in time, you are lost in him.

This has to be why you’ve been wandering so aimlessly for so long: you were looking for him all along.

Out of all the sights you’ve seen, you decide that this is your favourite. Surrounded by the walls of his modest apartment, rays of moonlight peeking through the curtains, the smell of his cologne still fresh in your nostrils, and Bucky snoring away softly next to you, with one arm still curled around your waist.

But fate is a cruel mistress.

Because only two weeks later, the shortest you have ever spent in any timeline, Bucky walks into the bedroom with a tray of coffee and fresh croissants, only to find the bed empty. The only traces of you left is the lingering scent of his own shampoo, the one you had just used minutes earlier.

And because, if he were being honest, Bucky hadn’t really believed you until that very moment.

You jolt awake, hand reaching out into the darkness of a new apartment, but your fingers close around nothing. That dream again.

New York City. 2023.

For the rest of the world, it’s been eighty years since you last visited the city. For you, however, it’s been nearly five thousand.

For the longest time, you couldn’t tell if the man who visits your dreams — your nightmares? — was real. All you know is that his is the only face that sticks, no matter how many years have passed.

Every single time you leap, every single time you find yourself in a new time, you search for any signs of him.

You were sure he was a figment of your imagination. Maybe he was made up by your subconscious, something to cling onto in a life full of memories long gone — lost to time. That is, until you landed back in New York.

Bucky Barnes is real.

You would learn what happened to him after you vanished back in 1942. You would learn that, while you were transported further back in time into medieval Spain, Bucky lost an arm. Bucky was being forced into a chair, agony ripped from his throat. Bucky was being pulled out, and something else entirely crammed back in.

Bucky Barnes is alive.

He’s spent the better part of the last five years “blipped” away from existence. Before that, he was a wanted fugitive. Before that, a ghost story. Before that, a young boy who was sent into a war he didn’t sign up for. Now, blamed for actions that weren’t his own. You don’t know how long you wept for him.

But then, you realized, you’ve been weeping for him for five thousand years.

It was your plan to continue life without him, to disappear from this timeline just as unceremoniously as you arrived. But then six long months passed, the longest you’ve ever spent in any time period, and you saw him one day, just walking across the street.

Of course, he’s aged. He’s wearing a leather jacket, his hair cropped shorter, he stops to speak to an elderly Asian man and even from a distance you can hear his voice. Even after all these years, he sounds exactly like you had imagined remembered.

You have always hated what you were, but you’ve never loathed your own existence as much as you do then. You’d given your heart to a man you knew for two weeks, your mind struggling to hold onto him as millennia passed you by. You never thought you’d see his eyes again, hear his voice, breathe the same air. Conflicting emotions battle within you, tearing you apart between your desire to touch him, to hold him, and your longing for an end to this miserable existence.

But you don’t have time to decide. Bucky looks up and locks eyes with yours. They go wide as if he recognizes you, but when a bus stops in front of you, obscuring you from his view, you try to take the opportunity to disappear once more.

Whatever allowed him to survive these last few decades also allows him to find you easily. Before you can even round a corner and disappear down the crowded streets, his fingers are closing around your wrist and he yanks you back to face him. He’s not even out of breath, considering how fast he had to run in order to catch up to you in such a short amount of time.

“You’re real.” You hear him say, the exact same words you had whispered to nobody in particular when you opened a history book at the library and found black and white photos of him printed on the pages. “You’re real.”

You try to pull away. This is not a happy reunion. You know that there is only one way for this to end. You will remember what it’s like to love in a way that crosses time, realities, and universes.

You will then be ripped away from all of it, not knowing when you’ll be able to make it back, if ever, to see him again.

And even another five thousand years won’t enough to dull the pain of it a second time.

“Let go.”

He doesn’t. How can he? For eighty years, yours was the only other face that wouldn’t leave him, no matter how hard Hydra tried. They couldn’t erase Steve; they couldn’t erase you, either.

“Please. I remember you.” He says, like they aren’t the only thing in the world that matters. If you do ever die one day, you are sure that his name is engraved deep in your bones; you are sure that you have always been his, ever since you first appeared on this god forsaken planet.

He’s not the boy you met in 1942, but it is still impossible to refuse his bright blue eyes — still shining with hope even after all that’s happened — but he would tell you when you are once again safe within the walls of his home, that the light you saw in his eyes was just your reflection — just you.

You weep into his bare shoulder, mouth trembling with grief as he marks his existence deep into your soul, kisses unspoken promises onto your skin, and moves to whisper love between your lips.

“I’ll have to leave you again.” You breathe, trying to hold onto this memory so that, even if another five thousand years go by, you will never doubt his realness ever again.

“I know.” His voice is just as unsteady, stuttering as he moves against you. You hold him tighter, closer.

“I don’t want to go.”

“I know.” You feel his tears splash onto your cheeks, and you mourn with him. “I love you. I know that’s real. I love you.”

Love. It is simply not enough to describe what it is he makes you feel. But then you feel a familiar sickness in your stomach, a familiar dizziness that tells you your time is up. So you quickly say it back. The words are jumbled as you rush to tell him before it’s too late. You say it to each other over and over and over again, fingers closing and clenching in a reluctance to part, until suddenly—

He is alone once more. He weeps into his hands, lying in that bed for hours, maybe even days, even though he hasn’t slept in a bed in almost a century. He will lie there until he can no longer smell you on his sheets.

She is real.

fin.

© 2025 by thereoncewasagirlnamedjane. do not repost, translate, or copy to third party sites. no part of this work may be fed into any AI software or websites. minors are asked not to interact with my blog; you are responsible for your own media consumption. blank/ageless blogs will be blocked.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x asian!reader

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nomsfaultau · 2 months ago

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Philza Malewife Competition Round 17

The shadows swirl, spasming as they unnaturally draw into the shape of a mysterious threshold. Cool walls of obsidian create a hellish doorway. A catalyst of purple light sparks in the center, and with a hiss explodes into a swirling vortex. A piglin hunter steps through, weeping.

Weight in Gold!Technoblade has come to plead his case.

"I was a monster hunter. Was. While I took a bounty on my Philza's head, I grew to love him too deeply. All the gold in the world would not be enough to convince me to murder him. Please. You have to believe me. Someone else did this, and I can only suspect it's one of you."

Next round: The group of remaining Philzas all look at one another, suspicion growing in their eyes. One among them must be responsible for the growing pile of dead Philzas. The accusations fly. It is up to you to determine who makes the best case.

Evidence: Golden Apples ate a golden apple and died, dissolving into experience points that the parasitic apple consumed. Babies hid in a Samsung Smart fridge during hide and seek, got trapped, and froze to death. Weight in Gold ate food Technoblade gave him, coughed up blood and acidized gold, and died.

Previous rounds: Cleaning. Cooking. Decorating. Karens. Sick Day. Eggs. Hugs. Venting. DIY. Gifts. Valentines. Bullies. Field Trip. Mental Health. Hide and Seek. Eating their kid's cooking. Surviving Food Poisoning. Current points: The Lambs Wolves Wear (3), Lighting Lanterns (2), Weight in Gold (3), Golden Apples (2), Fault (2), Lord! (1), Babies? (3), Mandatory Family Reunion (2). And an honorary point to qsmp for a guest appearance.

For a quick synopsis for the fics I’m referencing- those are here

Lighting Lanterns to Bring You Home: "I think it could be the gods. Whoever is running the tournament can so whatever they want to us, and us mortals just got to suffer." An indistinct murmur. He cants his head, irritated. "Ugh. Fine, fine, I’ll accuse someone…Could be Mandatory or Lord, they’re actual villains right? Lord is basically a god," he spits the word out acerbically, "who can magic anything he wants. Lord would have a very easy time teleporting poison into food. As a King of the Winter Court it would be trivially easy to freeze someone to death. Plus, he has the fewest points, and if anyone is dumb and evil enough to care about a stupid tournament enough to kill people, it’s him. Mandatory has more points, and no powers, and isn’t a god, but literally always has blood on his tie, and a trained resistance to poisons. Though, I suppose QSMP only has one point too…"

Lord, what fools these mortals be!: The Fairy Queen straightens in indignation. "I think it’s Lanterns! He doesn’t even want to be here! He’s been complaining and grumpy the whole time, and not even trying to win, but it’s been so many months Lanterns must have decided it’s faster to kill everyone to escape! Also for some reason I can’t teleport out of this death trap no matter what, and he’s the only one with access to gods whose entire story is about controlling plane crossing!" A murmur of factual correct. "Death, sure, whatever you call it! Just let me out of here!"

The Lambs Wolves Wear: The nervous human puts his palms up, a strained smile on his face. "Maybe it was accidents! The golden apple was already cursed to begin with. And Golden Apple is probably alive since he respawns! I have no idea what a fridge is, but they seem incredibly dangerous. My wife died to the cold, it’s vicious, so Babies had a natural death. And aren’t the dietary capabilities between birds and pigs substantially different? Weight in Gold’s poisoning was an accident!" He seems relieved once his dismissal is choked out, only to freeze when prodded to actually answer the question. "O-oh. I have to accuse someone? One of the monsters might’ve done it. So, I suppose I suspect Fault or Lord. But not really because nothing is happening and everything is fine!

Mandatory Family Reunion: What if the motivation is money? Golden apples are made of gold, the bird thing was puking up gold everywhere. It’s a super expensive fridge, can confirm, I have one. So it could be Lambs or Fault since they’re poor? Particularly Fault, he’s homeless. Plus a fridge would seem like a magical artifact to the fantasy people, wouldn’t it? Poor things don’t even have electricity. Or food security. They could be trying to accrue wealth to better support their families, which I can’t exactly blame them for. So, I reckon either Lord or I will be killed next.

Fault: The dragon hisses out pure smoke, hatred burning in golden eyes. "It’s Lambs. Got to be. Lambs’ whole thing is smiling nice and killing monsters. I’ve met plenty of the type. Uneducated, fed Church propaganda, looking for devils in everyone to burn at the stake. Doesn’t even matter Babies was human if Lambs convinced himself they weren’t. For crying out loud Lambs’ entire story is about him killing imposters, and the entire tournament is filled with his doubles! Of course he’d purge us monsters!"

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24carathoney · 1 year ago

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Backseat | C.SC | 18+

MDNI +18

Pairing: Seungcheol x FemReader

Wc: 1.2k

Genre: Smut, no plot just porn

Warning: Minors do not interact! Seungcheol teasing // fingering (f. receiving) // oral (m. receiving) // public // use of pet names like princess and my love // Woozi graces us with his sass // Established Relationship

Summary: You and Seungcheol call dibs on the backseat.

To say you were mortified was an understatement. Any of the boys can turn around and look you in your blissed out face that something was happening. What started out as subtle touches and quick glances ended up with your boyfriend's fingers thrusting in and out of your pussy in the backseat. You pulled at the blanket that was covering the two of you up to your nose as you spread your legs for better access. The book you were reading laid long forgotten, chapter lost once you realized you couldn't focus on the words printed on the pages.

“Seungcheol.” You sounded out his name as a warning and he turned to you with the most innocent smile on his face.

“Yes my love?” He asked and you narrowed your eyes. “The guys are right in front of us.” He brushed along your slit in one swipe without a care in the world.

“Then I suggest you stay quiet princess.” His cold finger came in contact with your clit you grabbed onto his wrist, hips twitching from the sudden contact. Your eyes started to shift focus as he rubbed small circles around the throbbing bud with his thumb. You were thankful the radio was one and half the boys had headphones on, or eyes they would hear how wet you were at your boyfriend's assault on your core. He peppered kisses down your neck and you tilted your head to give him more access. He gave a harsh suck and you covered your mouth with your hand to swallow the moan that nearly slipped out.

He scooped up some of your arousal, bringing his fingers in front of your face. You knew what he wanted and immediately opened your mouth, slowly taking his fingers down your throat tasting yourself. Thank God you could control your gag reflex or else the boys in front of you would erupt in chaos. Seungcheol had to hold back a groan of his own as he watched you suck on his fingers like you would his cock. Speaking of, he was throbbing under the restraints of his jeans, wanting nothing more than to have your walls milking him dry. But he was just fine watching you cum from his fingers, wanting to feel your clench around them. He slipped his hand into your shorts to quickly slip back into you and immediately curled his finger reaching that perfect spot inside you, enjoying the way you jolted next to him. You hid your face in his neck as you started circling your hips to match his thrusts. “Cheollie, the guys….”

“But look at how needy you are. Fucking yourself on my fingers. What if someone turns around?” He continued to toy with you, just to see how far you'll go until you break. He's set on making you cum in the back seat when he adds a second finger to the mix, making sure to rub quick circles around your clit with his thumb. Applying pressure to the bud he watches you twitch in your seat, grabbing onto him to keep yourself grounded.

“Is my baby gonna cum?” He whispered and you quickly nodded your head, the feeling becoming too much. Your hand tightly wrapped around his wrist as you started to flutter around his digits as you always did when the knot in your stomach unraveled.

He grabs your chin, slamming his lips into yours, his tongue grazing your bottom lip, swallowing any sounds you made as you silently ride out your orgasm. He kisses along your neck, coaxing you through your mind shattering high, leaving you a little over sensitive. His breath fanning over your skin as he silently relishes his accomplishment. You leaned back into the seat with your eyes closed and hissed as he slowly pulled out his hand from your shorts, brushing against your throbbing clit. The feeling of emptiness quickly replaced that of the bliss you felt moments prior. He immediately moved to kiss you again, giving you the reassurance you needed as your body started to relax. When he pulled away you still had a dazed grin on your face, you bottom lip between your teeth becoming more aroused as he licked his fingers clean.

“You still with me baby?” He asked you quietly and you gave him a small nod, not being able to form words. Before he could go back to his phone, you dropped your hand in his lap, rubbing against the bulge in his pants. He raised an eyebrow at your mischievous grin, your eyes watching the boys ahead of you.

“I'm still here.” Before he could lay your head on his shoulder you had already unzipped his pants, scanning the van and leaning down to his lap. You didn't miss the way his cock pulsed as your breath fanned over the red tip. You dragged your tongue over the vein of his cock watching as his head fell back. You quickly took as much of him as you could in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down his length. This isn't the first time you'd given him a blowjob around the boys so you knew how to keep yourself quiet. You just wished the others weren't here so you'd be able to listen to the lewd sounds that he's holding back. Looking up at him through your lashes as you licked from the base to his tip, circling your tongue around his throbbing head.

“Fuck.” His fingers tangled in your hair pushing you further down till the tip was touching the back of your throat. He knew you could take it so his hips slightly thrusted upwards, chasing his release that was on the brink. He let out a short groan as he stared down at you. His dick disappearing between your lips, your hands twisting around what was left as you worked him closer and closer to his own orgasm. He glanced up to make sure no one was looking before holding your head down against the base for a couple of seconds, enjoying the way your throat flexed as you tried not to gag.

You tapped his thigh causing him to let go so you could come up for air. You pecked his lips before getting back to work, wanting him to cum down your throat. Within seconds you were back on him with your cheeks hollowed out and your hand in hiss jeans massaging his balls, that was enough to push him over the edge, long ribbons of his warm cum shooting down your tongue. His eyes flutter closed as his hips stutter and he stills with his tip in the back of your throat. He ran a hand through his hair when you sat up and opened your mouth, showing him you swallowed every drop.

“That's my fucking girl.” He growled in your ear before grabbing your hair to guide you into his lips. After a quick make out he tucked himself back in his pants. “Guess we'll continue once we get to the lodge, yeah?”

“Damn right.” You grinned and continued your book for the rest of the ride until you arrived at your destination. As everyone got out of the vehicle before you, Jihoon was quick to turn around and caught your gaze with his narrowed eyes.

“The next time you two call the backseat I'm sitting my ass up front.” He said quietly with a look of disgust before moving to exit out the door and you covered your mouth with your hand. Seungcheol threw his head back in laughter as you buried your face in your book.

#seventeen #choi seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #svt #scoups #scoups smut #seungcheol smut

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azrielbrainrot · 1 year ago

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I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 6

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: Getting answers out of Norris has proven quite challenging. Your disagreement with Azriel is weighting on you more than you thought it would.

Warnings: Violence, Torture, Gore

Word Count: 5550

Notes: This took me a bit longer to write than I anticipated but I wanted to make sure not to forget any details. Hope you enjoy!

Part 5 ○ Part 7

The sun was already shining high in the sky when you finally stepped out of the dungeon. Feyre had arrived with Cassian and Amren a few minutes earlier, ordering her mate, you and Azriel to go and get some rest while they took over for a few hours. Rhysand could only use his daemati powers for so long and the strain was starting to become visible on his face, so she likely could feel his fatigue through their mating bond. His efforts were starting to be in vain anyway, you needed to wear Norris down a lot more physically before his mental walls would start giving in.

You didn't want to leave at first, completely unwilling to take your eyes off Norris for even a second, but both you and Azriel had been forced to go take a bath and eat something, maybe even get some sleep and only come back later in the day. Logically this made perfect sense, but you'd rather stay with him until he told you everything you wanted to know. You believe them all to be more than capable of handling this but you also know Norris, if anyone could find a way to escape from the Night Court's dungeons it would be him.

Still, you knew it was going to take a lot longer than a few hours to crack Norris so you needed to keep your strength, you wouldn't be any help at all if you exhausted yourself. Apparently the same wards around your memories were also present in Norris' mind, meaning Rhysand was only able to knock him out in the forest but not read through his thoughts, the same way he wasn't able to reach your memories before. This meant he was the one in control of said wards, both his and yours. Amren was quick to explain that since they had been done with the help of a witch's tool, he had to have it with him to keep up his wards since it wasn't his own magic that was keeping them in place.

It also explains why he risked becoming your handler even though letting you know him could lead to this exact outcome. He needed to strengthen your wards every once in a while to make sure no memory slipped through them. Unfortunately, even without his checkups the wards were strong enough that simply time wouldn't give your memories back in full, at best only letting you see some fragments. There was also no way of knowing what they could do to your mind when left unattended so your only option was to keep pushing him until he told you everything you needed to know.

The tool he used couldn't be far, he either had it on his person or hid it somewhere close before meeting you in the forest. You've searched through his belongings more than once, as did everyone present in the cell, including Azriel's shadows, but came up empty. He likely had a powerful glamour cast on it, one you had to make him break. Getting your hands on that tool meant you could break both the wards around his mind, which would grant Rhysand access to any and every piece of information he wanted, and the wards keeping your memories hidden inside you. One simple object could set you free.

Azriel winnowed you to the middle of the mountains surrounding Velaris, right behind the House of Wind, making sure no one in the city could see your bodies drenched in blood but unable to winnow you straight home. Having a house protected by wards that didn't allow for any winnowing, even by its inhabitants, was really good in theory, you've never seen a safer place really, but in practice having to fly up every time was more than annoying, especially when you don't have wings of your own.

The air was strangely awkward around the two of you since you hadn't spoken a word to each other after the short argument in the forest. Most of your annoyance had worn off at this point, got redirected at your smug handler chained up in the dungeon, but you still wanted him to be the one to come to you and explain himself. His attitude earlier had seemed completely different from everything you'd experienced until then, you know there's a reason for it but you're too prideful to ask him about it.

The only plausible reason you could think of is that he's been using you to get to an assassin with a higher up position in the guild, but something told you immediately that wasn't the case, it seems like a part of you balked at the thought that he'd betray you like this. Even putting your annoying phantom feelings aside, it didn't make sense considering the High Lord has followed his word on letting you help in interrogating Norris. Your mind was fresh out of ideas, and much too tired to analyze that small argument. He'll tell you what happened eventually, and if he doesn't… Well, then it's a good thing you didn't get your hopes up even more.

“I'll fly you up to the House,” his voice was scratchy from not being used in so long, making it deeper as he almost whispered beside you, not wanting to disturb the quietness in the mountain. Azriel had done most of the cutting and breaking but he hadn't even asked Norris any questions, content in letting you and Rhysand take over the interrogation while he carved out Norris' skin. You can't be sure if it was because of your fight or just the grueling last few hours but he didn't seem to be in the best mood anyway.

You nod up at him, simply walking closer and letting him pick you up into his warm embrace, strong hands careful as they handle your body. You've only flown once - from what you can remember at least, you can't imagine a version of yourself who wouldn't ask her husband to take her flying regularly if he had wings - and, given the circumstances, you didn't really have the chance to stop and truly enjoy the moment. It would be the same now, even worse given the fact that you'd rather not deal with the shadowsinger, but the breeze hitting against your tired body sounded heavenly, and so did the big bathtub and soft mattress waiting for you up in your room. There was also no energy left in your body to even try to argue with him, if there was you would have been using it on your handler.

His body relaxes slightly when you simply slip your arms around his neck, his wings stretching and flapping a couple of times as he got ready to take flight. He looked like he was expecting you to refuse, as if there was any other way to the House besides flying and he wasn't the only Illyrian here.

The actual flight doesn't take long, within a few moments Azriel is gently setting you down back on your feet at the top of the stairs, hands lingering on your body as if moving on their own, a habit he can't quite break himself out of. You meet his eyes, briefly wondering if you should say something, debating if you have enough patience in yourself to extend a small olive branch to the male who is covered in the blood of your enemy.

He beats you to it, looking down before speaking as if he couldn't hold your gaze for top long - yet another way he's acting out of character. “You're free to do what you want. I'll meet you in your room and fly you back to the dungeon when it's time. I won't bother you before that.” The professional, detached tone in his voice makes your annoyance want to rise up but you swallow it down, realizing how tired you really were as soon as you had stepped foot inside the house.

“Alright,” you tell him before turning around and walking straight to your room, never looking back to see his reaction or the way regret flashes in his eyes as he watches your every step away from him.

Azriel stayed true to his word, only coming to check in on you right before it was time to return. You can't even be sure if he stayed in his room the whole time, if he truly spent these few hours resting as he was ordered since there was no sound coming from his room or around the house at all. Curiosity had gotten the best of you a couple of hours ago, when you woke up from your nap feeling strangely alone, like a piece of you was begging to go find him. This feeling was clutching at your heart for long enough that you actually considered going to find Azriel, but held on since you didn't fully know your way around the house and you had no idea where he could be. You didn't really know what to say either.

Luckily it wasn't long until you heard his footsteps getting closer to your room before a soft knock sounded at the door. He always does this, makes sure to let himself be heard before knocking. Sitting up at the edge of the mattress, you call out to him, wondering if he'll tell you anything now or simply fly you back to the cells.

As soon as his form comes into view you can tell he hasn't slept much if anything at all, dark circles prominent under his eyes. He's at least taken a bath, the sullied leathers were now replaced with new ones, the stench of blood not clinging to him anymore. You're wearing some yourself, your old ones as you've been told. Your clothes were ruined and putting them back on would defeat the purpose of the bath you took earlier, but it feels weird to wear a version of what you always see Azriel and his family in. He takes notice of this as well, hazel eyes raking over your form, lingering around your waist long enough for you to start feeling self conscious, standing up and taking a step closer to him almost involuntarily.

“Is anything wrong? I thought you left them for me to wear.” Since he had given you the leathers along with your old belongings you had assumed you were allowed to wear them, but, at this point, these clothes were more his than yours. Maybe he was scared you'd ruin them and he'd lose his memories of you.

“No, that's not it. They're yours,” he assures quickly, eyes widening slightly before a conflicted expression takes over his face. “The buckles are done wrong,” his observation makes you look down at yourself, there were more straps and buckles than necessary for any piece of garment and you'd taken a bit longer to figure it out than you cared to admit, apparently you should have taken even longer.

Your fingers reach for the straps around your waist, tugging at the leather before he continues, “I can help you with them. They can be hard to put on if you're not used to it.” When you look up from the confusing clothes and your eyes move to meet his, you find him watching your hands hesitantly, his own flexing at his sides. You end up agreeing without even thinking it through, something you almost regret when he walks closer to you and suddenly all you can see and smell is Azriel.

He looks into your eyes before reaching out to the buckles around your waist slowly, giving you a chance to push him away, almost expecting you to. You drop your hands at your sides awkwardly, not knowing what to do with them or yourself when he starts working on your leathers. Expert fingers undo the buckle before pulling on the straps, unexpectedly tightening your armor in the process which pulls a startled gasp out of you. His hands move to grab your waist, surprised by your reaction. Wide hazel eyes meet yours at the sound, a heat spreading within them the longer he holds your gaze, hands frozen around your waist.

All your senses are overwhelmed with him so close, staring down at you like that. The only thing you can think of is the kiss you shared a few nights ago, your entire body begging to repeat the action as he looks down at you with the same passionate look he had worn then. He seems to be reminded of the same, perhaps of similar moments from your previous life, even more scandalous ones surely.

Thankfully, some of your common sense finds you before you could do something stupid like pull him down to you and taste him again, the thought making you look away from him and clear your throat, hoping he breaks from the spell and lets you pretend it didn't happen. This prompts him to keep buckling the leathers, with an urgency he didn't have before, and you look down with him, following his movements even though your mind isn't actually registering any of them as you try to calm your breathing and not think of the way his hands feel around your waist. You'll likely need his help fastening everything tomorrow as well.

“These are meant to cross so the leathers are molded to your body and there are no openings,” he tries to explain as he finishes and moves back, but you can tell he's as affected by your little moment as you were.

You nod at him, “There were a lot of straps, I wasn't sure which ones belonged where. Some of them don't even look like they have a purpose,” you finish as you play with the straps around your wrists, the ones you really couldn't figure out.

“Those are for your gloves,” he explains, a somewhat endeared look crossing his face. “I didn't think you'd need them but you can put them on. Though I'm not sure how they will behave with your powers now.”

“Did I not have these powers before?” You hadn't thought of the possibility but if the spell could erase your memories maybe Norris could have found a way to give or take powers. Just the thought of it brings a chill down your spine.

“You did, but you've gotten a lot stronger,” there was a hint of pride in his words, though the somber meaning hung between you. No matter how hard you practiced and how well they could have trained you here, the results wouldn't be as fast or maybe as clean as the ones resulting from the guild's harsh training. The guild had no problem pushing you past your limits, you either adapted and got stronger or you'd die and be replaced. You suppose you never had to use your powers to torture people before either.

“When this all ends we could spar together,” you sound hesitant even to your own ears, “Maybe I'm even stronger than you by now.” You haven't talked about what will happen after all of this, you can't know for sure what you'll want to do when you recover your memories. You also keenly aware you had just been telling yourself you wouldn't make it easy on him, but ended up seconds away from kissing him and inviting him to spar with you as soon as you saw him.

“I'd like that,” he nods, a reddish tint rushing to his ears. He makes it unbearably hard to even remember why you were upset with him in the first place. It takes everything in you not to lean into his genuineness and forget it ever happened. You bite your lip and give him a small nod of your own, “Are you ready then? We should go.”

“I wanted to talk to you before we left,” his voice takes on a serious tone, regret peeking through every word.

“Maybe this is not the right time. They're probably waiting for us,” you offered, not really sure how to go about having this conversation after what had just happened, even if the curiosity was killing you. It was clear you couldn't keep a level head when it came to Azriel.

“No, I can't…” he cuts himself off, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh, a heavy sound coming from deep in his chest as if he’s been pushing it down for a long time. He looks scared somehow, his wings pulling in tighter to his body and his shadows crawling up his shoulders as if comforting, or even encouraging him. You let him find his composure, find the right words to explain the situation. This feels bigger than a silly argument when adrenaline was pumping through both your veins and that gnawing feeling in your chest comes back, getting stronger with every breath, making you think this might be something he's carried on from the time you were still married.

Azriel opens his eyes after a few moments, the emotions swirling in them enough to make you breathless, and reaches his hand out to yours, waiting for you to accept it and then squeezing it tight as if he needs the reminder that you're real.

“I need you to know I wasn't trying to keep any secrets from you or order you around as you said,” he starts lowly, shiny hazel eyes alternating between watching your hands clasped together and staring deep into your eyes, “We've had this conversation many times before. I know you don't remember but I need you to know I never meant to make you think I want to have any sort of power over you.” He brings your hand up to his chest then, spreading your palm right over his beating heart as he continues, eyes never straying from yours, “I know you can handle yourself, and I know you want to be there when Norris tells you everything. I wasn't trying to keep you away from the dungeon because I didn't think you could handle it.”

“Then why?” Your voice is but a whisper, not wanting to disturb the vulnerable moment.

“I never let you see me down there before, know the monster I have to become. You tried, many times, but I never allowed it. I've always been too afraid of what your reaction would be,” he presses his hand down on yours a little harder as his heart beat picks up, “It would kill me if you were ever scared of me, if you couldn't love me anymore after learning who I am. I was so scared of losing you. Scared that you would ever look at me with fear in your eyes instead of love.”

You let your gaze fall to the way he presses his and your hand to his chest, letting his heartbeat lead yours. It takes a moment for you to process his admission. From what he told you before you thought you had been open with each other throughout your marriage, but it seems there were parts of him he kept hidden even from you, especially from you.

Moments like these always leave you in a weird position. You can't speak for the old version of you, as much as you want to believe that you wouldn't leave him, would never feel scared of him, when your love for him transcended your memories as if it was written down into your bones, the truth is you don't remember her at all. Maybe she would have been scared, maybe his worries hadn't been completely unwarranted then. The thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

You turn your hand around, your palm no longer pressed against his chest in favor of holding onto his hand, your other hand joining in as you massage the rough skin and let them fall between you two, needing something familiar to ground yourself while you think of what to say. You twist his wedding ring around his finger once, closing your eyes at the tremble that runs through him at the motion, the way even his wings droop to the floor. The fact that he lets you touch him like this makes things so much harder sometimes.

“I've seen a lot of monsters. You're not one of them, Azriel. Far from it,” you start carefully, “and… I'm not sure how I was like before, if seeing you down there would have really been too much for me to handle but if I truly loved you like I think I did, then I know it wouldn't have mattered. There's nothing about you I see as unlovable.”

“Loved,” a broken mumble between you, not a question. This makes you look up at him. You want to deny it, tell him you still love him, but you can't make sense of the feelings inside you, can't say for sure what will happen to them when you regain your memories. Most of all, you don't want to hurt him, give him hope when he already lost so much, when you already hurt him so much.

You drop his hand, taking a small step back. “I'm not the same person you used to know, and recovering my memories might not bring her back either. Most of what's left is just my body.”

“It doesn't matter,” he says so matter-of-factly it almost makes you want to believe him.

“Azriel-”

“No,” he brings both of his hands to hold onto your face gently, giving you no option but to look into his eyes, “I love you. That didn't change when you died or over the century that followed, when I didn't think I would ever see you again. It didn't change when I saw you in the townhouse or even when you stabbed me. And it won't change whether you get your memories back or not, if you choose to stay or not.”

“I don't love you,” the words stumble out desperately, tears gathering in your eyes, “I don't even remember you, Azriel.”

“That doesn't change it either,” he smiles, thumb caressing your cheek softly. You know he means it then, know there's no way to change his mind even if for his own good. You can only pray to the Mother that your memories don't give you any unpleasant surprises. You're trying so hard to keep his heart safe, why must he keep offering to rip it out of his chest for you?

His expression changes abruptly as you're lost in thought and soon after you feel a presence in your mind before Rhysand's voice comes through. I hope I'm not interrupting anything. Azriel's hands drop from your face then, a scowl overcoming his features. You can only imagine the words he's throwing at his brother in his mind, but Rhysand's voice returns, noticeably more amused, Our break is over. It's time to meet them back at the dungeon. I take it you'll fly our captive back? The answering growl that comes from the shadowsinger actually makes you hide a chuckle behind your hand. His gaze softening once again when he notices the gesture.

Despite the timing and the way he insisted on addressing you as “captive” to rile Azriel up, you could actually thank Rhysand for breaking you away from the moment. He's right, you've rested more than enough and it's now time to go back and finish what you started. You only have the luxury of dealing with your marriage after Norris is gone and you could actually remember your husband.

The flight to the dungeon is a lot easier this time as your prior annoyance was replaced with strangely welcomed awkwardness and a tinge of bashfulness. As much as you tried to deny it, you can't pretend Azriel's admission hadn't made your heart want to leap out of your chest. You don't think anyone could have remained impartial to such a confession, especially coming from a male like Azriel, but as soon as you step into the dungeon, you feel yourself morph back into the cold assassin. You could even feel Azriel's mask fall over his face as well, ready to resume what you'd started before.

This same routine is repeated for a few days, slowly but surely wearing the formidable assassin down. It wouldn't be long until Rhysand or Feyre could read through his mind completely even if he didn't willingly tell you anything. This sentiment was felt among all of you, it's like you could all taste how close he was to breaking.

You came back from one of your mandatory breaks to see Cassian leaning by the cell door, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at your prisoner as Amren stood in the middle of the cell covered in blood, a wicked grin on her face as Norris looked the most unsettled you'd ever seen him. She was told to hold back in the first days but since Norris insists on resisting, Rhysand had allowed her to toy with him. You truly hope you never cross her, just the thought of the things she could do makes every hair on your body stand.

Everyone stays in the room this time, knowing it's only a matter of time. Azriel takes over once more, every slash of his knife meant to give Norris unimaginable pain, completely focused on making the short remaining of his life as miserable as he can.

The difference between the male who had confessed his undying love to you, held your hand as if you were the most precious thing in this world, and the one expertly carving out your former handler's body was almost unbelievable. Azriel's face showed nothing but anger, and even then you knew it wasn't even a quarter of the seething fury burning inside of him. This wasn't your doting husband, this was the Spymaster.

You feel Rhysand's dramatic show of power before you see him walk into the cell, hands in pockets as if he was walking into his kitchen instead of a seedy dungeon reeking of blood and sweat. He passes by you and joins Azriel in tormenting Norris, letting sharp black talons run across the mental walls he's been so desperate to maintain. The smirk on his mate's face, who leans against the table calmly by your side, tells you they might even be teaming up on him.

Fatigue was starting to eat away at everyone the longer you spent inside the windowless cell, but, as Norris smirks lessened and his bared teeth stopped being enough to hide the obvious grunts of pain, his skin paling considerably as his blood pooled at his feet, it was clear that you were on the right track, only needed to keep pushing.

Your handler had started answering more questions too, if only to keep you distracted and away from any blades long enough. It's hard to believe that the male you've been frightened of for a century is the same one chained in front of you. If it weren't for the stubbornness and the pride he's managed to keep somehow, you wouldn't have believed it at all.

“This whole mission was a gamble. We couldn't know for sure if they'd written you off their wards even if they thought you were dead. When you walked in so easily I thought it would be a piece of cake from there. Seems I was wrong.” You had guessed as much. At the time, being sent to an unknown place on such short notice seemed strange and sloppy for how usually crafted the guild's plans were, but knowing what you do now, it makes sense. Not only were you written into the wards as he said, but if it hadn't been for the strange nostalgic feelings inside you, Azriel would have let you escape, you would have even killed him to do so.

“The spell should have sealed your memories and feelings tight,” Norris continues as if sensing your thoughts, “I'm not sure what is trying so hard to claw its way out from behind those walls.” He tilts his head to the side and pauses as if he found the answer and that self-assured smirk reappears on his lips. The sight makes your skin crawl, your powers reacting with you and sending an icy chill into the room. Temperature dropping as his smirk only widens even more and Azriel looks at you with a worried expression before catching himself. “Maybe I just messed up the spell,” he dismisses.

“What do you mean?”

“It is a tricky spell,” he shrugs nonchalantly, knowing that's not what you asked. Azriel moves before you, Truth Teller slashing across his skin for the millionth time, but Norris seems intent on keeping at least this last piece of information to himself. There's more to this, you know there is, but the interrogation moves on to matters of the guild. Rhysand is still worried that they will come for you now that you've deserted, and that they will bring harm to his beloved court.

Within the next few hours, Norris' healing stops being able to keep up with his injuries, even his voice losing strength. It seems like he was focusing the remaining of his energy on keeping his mental walls safe, but it's not long until you see Rhysand's smirk grow, a satisfied wicked thing on his face.

You watch as Norris' head goes limp, unfocused eyes dropping to the ground as the High Lord searches through his mind, probably making it as unpleasant as he possibly can. Your heart starts beating faster in your chest, anxiety building up at the thought that this could have all been for nothing, that Norris might not have the answer after all. You feel a hand on your shoulder but don't even have the mind to look back and check who is trying to comfort you.

When he finally steps back, he simply gives you a nod and a breath of relief escapes you as you stare back into Norris' eyes. You watch Azriel and Rhysand share a look in the corner of your eye, never daring to look away from Norris' defeated face. Within moments everyone starts clearing out of the cell in silence, leaving you and your shadowsinger standing over the prisoner.

It's only when Azriel's hand reaches for yours, tugging on it to get your attention that you look away. His eyes don't give away much and he doesn't say the words, but as he places Truth Teller in the palm of your hand, you know exactly what he means. He nods at you once and drops your hand, taking a step back and giving you space.

You look down at the dagger in your hands, the same one you had held to wound the male who now handed it to you, the one you'll now use to set yourself free. Describing the feeling running through your body is impossible, you always thought you'd die in the guild, as an assassin. Never even dared to think you could be more, never thought it would be possible to get out alive and find a life for yourself. You thought you'd be scared at the prospect but you can only feel excitement and relief.

Not wanting to waste any more time, you walk to Norris and pull on his hair to lift his face to yours, so he can see all the hate and anger in your gaze before you stab the knife through his right eye slowly, making sure to get it through his brain, deep enough that no amount of healing or any trick he might have had up his sleeve would be able to save him, and twisting it around. You don't move for a few moments, listening for his heartbeat and paying attention to the blood seeping out of the wound. It's only when you're sure he's dead, that his heart is completely quiet and enough blood has poured out, that you pull the knife out with a squelching sound, flicking it down to get rid of most of the blood and any pieces of flesh stuck to it.

You hesitate for a moment before turning back, meeting Azriel's eyes. As much as you'd told him there was no need for him to worry of your opinion of him changing after witnessing what he did to Norris, of ever being afraid of him, you had hypocritically been scared of letting him see you like this, of seeing the cold blooded killer you had become, so far detached from the wife in his memories.

All your worries are proven baseless however. The only thing you can distinguish in his eyes is relief, at having the answer to getting your memories back and having the person responsible for your pain killed. You can't help the smile growing on your face, not caring for how it must look against the blood covering most of your body, and wrap your arms around Azriel's neck, pulling him down into a hug as a sigh of relief escapes you, tears rising to your eyes and flowing down your cheeks. His arms come around you immediately, tightening his grip on you and burying his face in your neck, tears of his own wetting your skin.

You're finally free.

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