#reaper ash x f reader

[ballad-of-birdy-lamb]

there is barley any stuff abt reaper, i was wondering if you can do reaper x fem!reader w just fluff hcs, thank you!! <3

Are you sick of me? Would you like to be?

Reaper Ash x Fem! Crush! Reader Summary: romantic headcanons of Reaper getting a crush on fem! reader Warning: none Word count: 1.1k Author's note: kind of went in a different direction for these headcanons

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Reaper wasn't always interested in romance. Love has always been important to him and his life, the affection his family had for him was something he couldn't live without. But romance? Not always on his mind. He had friends that told him girls liked him, which he thought was endearing but wasn't interested in them.

It was mainly because he had better things to think about, at least that's how he puts it. Reaper has to help his family and get his schoolwork done; love wasn't primary.

Not until he met you.

It was some random day in class, it was near the end of the school year. The days had gotten warmer, and it smelled fresher because the frozen rain was finally melting. The teacher had assigned a final project on the importance of their district and the harvest every year. Many of the students were slightly disappointed it hadn't been something more interesting, but they accepted it, nonetheless.

Of course, groups were given, and he was assigned with a girl he hadn't talked to too much in class. You!

With your sudden intrusion in his life, came the odd feelings he started getting. It was odd, the effect you had on him. Each time you spoke, he couldn't hear anything else but you. And you would smile at him, and he wouldn't stop himself from smiling too because that odd feeling would get worse. Or better? Reaper couldn't pinpoint what he felt. But he knew he didn't want it to stop.

Class had ended at some point and Reaper was left with a sadness he hadn't felt, or rather disappointment...? Yeah, disappointment. You were gone and he couldn't spend time with you without seeking you out, which might have freaked you out.

Reaper had a habit of telling his friends about you and it later grew into a common occurrence. He would talk about your smile, your eyes, your voice, your kindness in particular. His friends were happy for him but would fake annoyance when Reaper would go on another tangent about your beauty and kindness. It would just make him justify his wanting for you more.

"I miss her." Reaper would say when you were gone from school, earning a groan from his friends, it having been his third time saying such a thing. You could have been gone because of sickness and he would get sad because he would be able to see you and get that sweet feeling when he would see you.

His friends would poke fun at him whenever you're near, pushing him closer or trying to call you to break the news before he was brave enough for it. Calling your name toward your group of friends, which Reaper knew you were with. Out of embarrassment, he would cover their moves and give them dirty looks for even trying such a thing.

Of course, school isn’t something you have to have every day of the year and it ended in early June. Reaper would spend most of his summer walking from work and through town, hoping he would see you amongst the large population and possibly wave to you.

The harvest months had brought most of (if not all) of District Eleven's teen population together to work, hauling baskets of fruits and vegetables to large carts from their plants. And that meant Reaper saw you again!

It was almost immediately that you started hanging out again. Mostly having been because you both usually took nearby areas to pick the apples. And at some point, you weren't seen without him, and he wasn't seen without you. Who would have thought you would gain a liking for him far beyond just platonic?

It was later in the day, having been four to five thirty PM, the citizens of Eleven were finally allowed to go home. Nearly everyone had left... except you and Reaper. He had stayed back to help you with the basket of apples you had acquired while working.

And when you sat together to rest from the heaviness of the apples, basket on the seat next to you both, a silence overtook you. It was eerie, not a horrific kind, but a kind of two who couldn't understand what to do with a new lover. But you weren't lovers... not yet, Reaper would hope.

Reaper looked down at the grass below his shoes and thought about what to do, his nerves growing as he took your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours. His body slightly relaxed, finally getting to hold your hand, your hands that he had wished to hold for oh so long.

Reaper finally ripped his stare from the ground and to you, hoping you would do the same thing he had wanted to for so long. Your eyes were trained on his hand that held your delicately, as though he would break you if he wasn't careful enough. But you accepted the touch with affection and tightened your grasp.

Your eyes moved from his hand, finally meeting his dark eyes with a sense of hesitance. You looked at Reaper with those eyes he adored, and he couldn't help leaning in slightly, hesitating slightly at the prospect you didn't feel the same. But you leaned in too and closed the gap between you two.

Your lips met his in a soft, warm touch. At the simple, small embrace, Reaper pulled you closer, his free hand having gone to your upper back to hold you closer. His lips stayed against yours, not wanting to pull away too quickly and think you left him disappointed. No, he could never be disappointed or unsatisfied with a kiss from you. Even if you weren't experienced with this form of affection, he wasn't either! You'd just have another thing in common!

He felt his senses heighten from the closeness and the fact he got to kiss a girl he had a thing for for a while. The smell of the apple blossoms having been drowned out by your perfume. The feeling of your soft clothes under the palm of his hand on your back was so much for him.

At some point, you pulled away, whether that was because it felt like too much to continue longer or for breath, it was something you both didn't know the answer to. You looked away from him out of giddiness and not wanting to make it awkward if you stared (as if you didn't just kiss). Reaper did something similar, looking down at the ground, but with great delight.

"You love me?" You asked, breaking the silence. You look up into his dark eyes, which stared back with warmth. Your hands were stilled entwined with his, his hand having tightened out of instinct.

"Was there a reason I shouldn't have?"

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

I'm so sorry I haven't posted in so long omg, I've had the WORST writers block for so long. This has GOT to be OOC for Reaper but please let me live.

My tbosas masterlist

#ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg #thg prequel #tbosas x reader #reaper ash tbosas #reaper thg #reaper ash #reaper ash x reader #reaper ash x fem reader #reaper ash x female reader #reaper ash x f reader #tbosas x female reader #x female reader #x female y/n #x fem reader #x fem!reader #reaper tbosas #x reader #x you #x y/n #x f reader #reaper ash romantic headcanons #romantic headcanons #reaper ash headcanons #crush headcanons

[sprout-fics]

Engravings (Chapter One)

(Makarov x F! Reader)

Engravings Masterlist

Word Count: 4.2k Rating: Mature Tags: Brainwashing, Emotional Manipulation, Kidnapping, False Romance, Angst, Hurt/No Comfort, Injury/Blood, Whump, Stockholm Syndrome, Winter Soldier AU, No Fluff, Psychological Abuse, Eventual Happy Ending Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Mind the tags (Read on Ao3)

“How do you think you’ll die?”

His fingers still as they trace your bare spine.

It’s silent in the solitude of his apartment, one of many he moves between to keep safe. This is one of the nicer ones. Furnished with silk sheets, the interior is immaculately clean. Wide windows overlook St. Petersburg below, a sight you never see with towering curtains blocking the view. Carefully curated art hangs from the walls, an abstract painting flecked with gold above his bed. You see shapes in it, think you see something akin to a lynx staring back at you. There’s never anything on the counters, no mess that would indicate someone lives here. It feels too pristine, almost artificial.

Hazy, bluish light drowns both of you as you both sprawl in bed. You like it when he makes love to you here. The large space makes you feel so alone, so much closer to him, like you have him all to yourself. Greedy, you drink in his scent, claw at his back, listen to his breath stutter as he rolls his hips into you.

Makarov is silent as you tuck into his side, shift and tangle your legs a little closer to his. You can’t see his face, but you know the look in his eyes. Precise, calculating, almost detached. His silence is indicative of his answer before he even speaks it.

“With glory.” He responds, fingers resuming their lazy path. “For Russia.”

You nod without any response. You’re not sure what you expected, but it should have been that. Makarov is a soldier, just like you are. A warrior, one who will kill, die for his ideals. As much as you long after him, as much as he loves you in return, you know his death will be exactly as he says. Not gently, not beside you in old age, sighing softly into your arms with his last breath, a lifetime of joy he left behind. His mere existence speaks of violence and retribution, a danger you yourself are caught in as an inescapable tide.

You don’t remember a time before Makarov.

There’s glimpses, yes, whispers of a time before he found you, but they’re distant echoes drowned by the sound of his voice. He says you were a soldier, and you know this much is true. He says he found you dying, on the brink of death. He scooped you from the ashes, rescued you from the embrace of the grim reaper and brought you here. Home. Your earliest memory of him is when he sat in the hospital chair, looked upon you with curious, sad eyes and asked you your name.

You didn’t know.

Marionette, your callsign. A name he bestowed upon you, the one who holds the strings. You’re his blade, his weapon, the arrow in his bow. You fly in the direction of his enemies, cut them down with lethal precision, feel their heartbeats stutter and still in your hands. You’re used to the scent of blood by now, arrive back to him awash in red and let him kiss it from your lips, the taste of your murder on his tongue.

You know what the others say about you. You see them as they watch you walk with him, two steps back, by his right shoulder. A designated position. If someday he were to be betrayed, shot through his spine, you know the bullet would enter you first.

You know too that you’ve accepted this.

Marionette. The puppet, the other soldiers say. Beautiful, poised, but empty. He holds you in his palms and you go willingly, holding onto every scrap of warmth he offers like it will fill the hollow inside you. The others, they’re scared of your devotion to him, the way you’d be ready to die if he asked. Yet there’s something else there too, glimpses of desire for a thing they’ll never touch. A longing to feel your skin, to see the glimmer behind your gaze. Those who look too long disappear, and you know without having to ask that it was through his hands.

You’re his, after all.

In private he calls you милая, дорогая, любимая. Honey, darling, beloved. He cups your face in his hands and presses gentle kisses to your forehead, presses you into the sheets with endless praises of your violence. He treats you like he loves you, even though he never says it. You think perhaps it’s taboo for people like you, speaking of blessings only to have them stolen as soon as you confess. He gathers you to him when he sleeps, presses your bare form to his. You stay awake just to hear the sound of his even, steady breaths, watch how his face doesn’t soften even in sleep.

In the morning he’s gone before you rise. You tiptoe to the living room, see him standing at a crack in the curtains, awash in the hazy dawn. When you wrap your arms around his bare torso, he kisses your knuckles but says nothing. Eyes distant.

Loving Makarov is hard.

He always seems not completely there with you, eyes gazing into a distant future you cannot see. You’re stuck in the present, helplessly watching him discern the spinning axis of the earth, blinking as you see constellations sparkle in his gaze. Copernicus, he watches the stars rotate with him at the axis, tracing across their glimmering brightness like he’s drawing prophecies from the heavens. All for once was a far-fetched dream of Russia, one that becomes closer with every death in your grasp.

You don’t do it for his vision. You do it for him, and there’s some days where you wonder if you could ever stop.

“Come back to bed.” You whisper against the flesh of his shoulder, and he holds your hand to his chest where you feel his pulsing heartbeat.

“There are things to be done.” He murmurs instead. He’s silent for a while, as if waiting for you to protest. You never do.

“Dress. Eat.” He tells you in Russian, as he turns to hold your face in his hands. “I have somewhere to send you.”

That’s how you end up in Prague.

Trailing an informant, one of his own. He’s a twitchy sort, constantly looking over his shoulder in a way that means he knows he’s being followed. Your mission is not to kill him, not yet. First you must see who he meets, which enemy he speaks to, and then bury them both.

December. Snow dusts the streets. You’ve long since become accustomed to the winters in this part of the world, the way the sun hides during this part of the year. You’re bundled in a stylish coat and matching scarf- his choosing. It brings him a certain pleasure, somehow, to choose how you dress. You find you don’t mind, leaning up to his words of endearment with every fine thread he drapes you in.

It’s a shame the coat will get stained. You find he doesn’t mind that either, as if he prefers the color red on you.

You sip on coffee in a chair of the cafe, wishing instead for hot chocolate. The bitterness is familiar, even as the temptation of sweetness lingers in your senses. You hide your face between sips, pulling up the mask that covers the lower half of your face. The informant sits in a corner booth alone, leg bouncing. Sloppy. Obvious. You watch him with cat-like eyes, blinking slowly, wondering if he’ll beg when you kill him. The man that meets him is calmer, dark haired, clearly English. His mere presence seems to soothe the other man, and you watch as they discuss things in hushed detail, the informant sliding a USB across the table where their drinks sit untouched.

The Englishman leaves first, gives a small farewell and shrugs on his coat, neatly slipping the traitorous item in his pocket. You wait a minute until after he leaves, watching your fidgety comrade count on his watch by instruction until he too is supposed to depart. You’ll be back for him later. You know where to find him.

You trail the Englishman into the overcast afternoon, following his dark coat until the street is empty. Yet as you close the distance between you and the spy, a figure rounds the corner just in front of him. Your awareness roars to life a moment too late, and even though you stab your knife forward the man before you counters it easily. His movements are experienced, practiced, and strong. They counter your quick, precise agility in a flurry of movement, before at last you’re forced into the shadow of a building, his broad form crowding you from behind.

“Where is he?” The man breathes in your nape. Cigar smoke, musk, the grip on your wrists speaking of a soldier’s strength. You don’t need to ask who. You already know. You know you’ll die before you tell him.

“Minsk.” You lie easily, and the grip on your hands tightens.

“Try again.” He growls.

“You’ll never find him.” You offer instead, voice easy, almost detached. It makes him pause for some reason, and you wonder if that alone has startled him.

You don’t expect him to flip you around, press his forearm to your throat and rip down your mask.

You see him for the first time then. He’s worn in the way warriors are, years of duty etched onto his face. Thick brows, a beard, eyes that you think in another lifetime could have been kind. He stares at you with open astonishment, a bewildered shock that fades to a strange grief you can’t understand.

“You’re alive.” He whispers.

You blink at him, and for the first time feel your expression change to that of confusion. He seems to recognize you. You’ve never seen him once in your entire life.

He whispers a name, one you don’t know. Yet the voice he speaks it in is that of despair, a realization that seems to eclipse the fabric of his soul.

“What has he done to you?”

Panic flares inside you, and suddenly your entire being is consumed in the instinct to run, run, run. The man holding you captive radiates a danger far beyond that of duty, a fear that roots inside you and cracks at the foundation of your composure. You throw a leg up between you, and in his attempt to dodge his grip loosens on you. You duck under him, seize the knife that had been wrestled from your grip. A slash on his leg brings him to a knee. You dart a distance away from him, shaking, looking back with wild eyes. Red drips from your blade.

You should kill him. You’re not sure you can if you try.

You run.

When you find the informant, let his blood pool over his fingers, you see your own fear mirrored in his eyes.

The Englishman gets away. It’s an unacceptable failure, and when you send an encrypted message to Makarov he is silent for some time before he responds.

Report back.

He’s displeased to say the least when you arrive, mouth pressed into a scowl, brow drawn tight. You try to stand tall, refusing to show just how shaken you are by the whole ordeal. You know better than to show him weakness. Yet the man’s words from before haunt you, repeating in a ceaseless echo that sends the world under you spinning violently.

Makarov paces away from you, but at the mention of the stranger he snaps to look at you, blinking in something akin to shock. It flashes over his features for only a moment before he stills back into his stony passiveness, and then it darkens into something that makes your stomach sit heavy, making you nearly take a step back at the glint that warns of danger.

He strides over to you, and this time you do falter. You’ve seen Makarov angry before, but it was always with his subordinates, the men who show fear, hesitation, those who don’t follow orders. You’ve seen him shoot a man dead for daring to question him, and as he stood over the man’s oozing corpse he had murmured that Russia’s future did not include traitors.

Yet this- as he crosses the room with surprising speed, as you reel backwards out of pure instinct, as he captures your jaw and presses you to the wall so the lynx painting rattles- is different.

“His name.” He growls, teeth bared, jaw clenched, and he doesn’t notice the way your hand encloses his wrist in a pleading grasp. “What was his name?”

“I-I don’t know.” You manage in hardly a whisper. “I swear.”

He holds you for moments longer, stares into your eyes and waits for your gaze to falter with dishonesty. Your heart beats at an aleatory rhythm in your chest, a tremble starting in your hands and spreading along the sinews of your body. Yet as Makarov waits for you to stumble, to confess something you don’t have, you stare into his eyes.

and you see fear.

The ground cracks under you like splintering ice. A flare of panic takes a frigid hold of your veins. Makarov is not afraid. He is not fearful. He isn’t scared of death, of defeat. He throws himself in the jaws of lions and peels their teeth to use as daggers. He does not waver, he remains steadfast, unmovable. So this...this....

He releases you, and it takes all your strength to not gasp in relief, practically sagging against the wall as he turns. There’s a coiled tension to his shoulders, his fists clenching and then releasing before he turns back to you, eyes almost gentle.

“I’m sorry, darling.” He murmurs, reaching forward to loop his arms around your waist. Despite the tremble in your limbs you learn eagerly into the safety of his embrace. “I shouldn’t have scared you. I just can’t imagine the thought of someone like that taking you away from me.”

He presses your cheek to his shoulder, and even though you stay there your eyes are unblinking, wide, as if seeing the first glimmer of the truth to come.

As you sleep in his arms that night, you lay awake with wide eyes still, the stranger’s words repeating endlessly in the cacophony of your mind.

“What did he do to you?”

He gives you a few days to rest but leaves you alone in the too-large apartment. You feel miniscule against the towering windows that overlook the city, and in the absence of his touch your thoughts spiral in uncertainty.

How did he know you?

You’re sent out once more, and this time you aren’t alone. It unnerves you. You’ve worked by yourself for so long that the men on either side of you on the plane feel like they crowd into your space. One of them, the younger one, is fairly talkative. You pass idle exchanges, but every time he asks something that even remotely pertains to you his older comrade hisses at him, as if they’re not allowed to know. As if the mere knowledge of you as anything other than a weapon is a sin.

The rifle in your hands is familiar, the weight grounding as you perch on a snowy rooftop, examining the ambassador’s aide just outside his home. You watch him kiss his wife, blink and feel something familiar and forbidden tug in your ribs.

The older soldier is beside you, his own sights trained on the driver. His younger comrade scans the surrounding rooftops for interference. He doesn’t flinch at the gunshot, the scream from the wife.

He does, however, collapse at the third gunshot. Not yours.

You bolt, rifle hoisted to your shoulder. The older comrade calls for his friend, and you tug him back even as he fights you. He acts as a shield when the next shot rings out, and his blood coats your arms. You duck, roll, plant yourself behind a vent cover and search for the other sniper. You find him on a taller rooftop, his sights glinting in the dawn. A shot dents the steel, and you focus your sights on its origin.

A skull mask. A reaper.

It tugs at something inside your thoughts, the same place where the stranger’s words echo. Distant, a whisper of familiarity locked behind a terrible dread. Brown eyes. The color of rust. They widen when they see you, and in his hesitation you fire a single round.

Your aim is off.

It catches him by the shoulder, and he rolls out of view. As police sirens howl, you take that moment to escape, cast a lingering glance to the neighboring rooftop and wonder why it feels as if you just saw a phantom.

You lose two men, and the deaths are acceptable. They died for the cause. Martyrs for the future that Makarov divines even as he licks the blood clean from your fingers.

It’s only then that the dreams begin.

You sleep in an empty bed. Cold, the phantom chases you through sleep. The bone white mask fades at the edges like mist. It snakes into your lungs, chokes the air and freezes your ribs. In the hollow of your chest there’s whispers of a name you don’t recognize. Yelling, screaming, hands reaching for you amidst chaos and flames. You fall through the sky, descending too quickly. Their voices are lost to the wind, and as you pull at your shoulder, the thing that unfurls above you is shot through with debris. The ground races up, up, up-

You fall, wake up on the floor, trembling, chest heaving, trying to remember where you are. Who you are.

The voices chase you on your next assignment, pulse in tandem with the heartbeat that fades under your fingertips. You try to blot them out, try to replace them with the sound of his voice, and in the midnight darkness they return, howling like the gale. Faces you don’t recognize, hands, touches, laughter.

“You were talking in your sleep.” Makarov tells you when he rouses you in the darkness of a safehouse. Your bruised ribs from your last mission heal under bandages, and as he soothes a hand over them you wince but don’t protest. “Were you dreaming?”

Yes. You think, and open your mouth to tell him, confess the chaos of your nightmares. Yet something howls in the gale inside you, screams in a soundless cry that stifles the air in your chest, sends your voice into wordless silence.

“I don’t know.” You whisper, and it’s the first lie you’ve ever told him.

After that, you only dream when you’re alone.

Never alone on missions, not again. You’re constantly accompanied, flanked, and you have the itching, uncomfortable feeling that you’re being monitored.

You try to ask why you aren’t allowed to go alone and see the way the smile doesn’t reach his eyes when he holds you close.

“To keep you safe, дорогая.” He coos, stroking your cheek with his knuckles. “How could I ever lose you?”

You accept this, but the hollow of doubt inside you wonders that, if that were true, why he would risk you at all. Hardly a week goes by without another injury, another bruise from a target, a mission, an enemy he throws you at and you carve into fatal stillness. It feels in some ways like he’s punishing you, forcing you to bear the cost of his love. Yet he presses kisses to your cuts, the blossoming yellow and purple across your skin, sighs endearments and swallows your whimpers with the slant of his mouth against yours.

Yet you fall into him, your only source of comfort, your beacon. You’re lost without him, a marionette with no master. You don’t whisper the sin of your loved confession even as it tightens in your chest, knowing he can never say it back lest it summon destruction. Taboo, forbidden, just like the doubts you refuse to share with him. You cling to him instead, listen to his heartbeat and try to synchronize it with your own.

“You’re shaking.” He whispers as you shiver in his arms following something akin to lovemaking. “Are you scared?”

“No.” You tell him, another lie. It’s not of him, never him. Not yet.

Your dreams are the thing that terrify you, and you fear them because you don’t understand. They paint images you struggle to discern. Falling one moment, caught in an embrace the next. Gunfire replaced by the clink of glasses and a bark of laughter. Cigar smoke envelopes you, war paint smears charcoal across your fingertips. An arm slings across your shoulder in warm familiarity, hands wrap a wound, and blue eyes turn to you in an affectionate concern. They whisper a name that bores into your marrow, takes holds like rot, and the deeper you carve to dig it out the more you begin to fracture.

Doubt, and it terrifies you. You never have to doubt Makarov. You turn to his hands as they guide you, surrender to his touch as they hone the fatal edge of your killing strike. You’re his, and his alone.

It’s in Belgrade that you begin to understand.

The details of the mission are obscure. Moving a Belarusian oligarch, a team with you. Different from your usual assignments, your carefully curated wardrobe is exchanged for plate armor, gloves, bracers. You wear it like a second skin. The weight is familiar, almost relieving. There’s not much for you to do, sitting in the back of the Humvee beside the package, watching the nighttime city fade to countryside and listening to the loud thrum of the convoy. You’re still healing from your last mission, a sprain that aches in your shoulder. You didn’t protest when he pressed it, took note of your grimace and declared you fit for duty. You must have made a face, because he’d tipped his knuckles under your chin, and had forced you to meet his gaze.

“You’ll do it for me, won’t you, Marionette?” He murmured with those dark, soft, velvet eyes, and you found yourself empty of protests.

The Belarusian oligarch grumbles the entire time, and you don’t entertain him. Yet eventually he seems to take notice of you in a different sense, eyes roaming over the dip of your waist that your gear obscures, then up to your eyes hidden by your helmet. You see it out of the corner of your eye, ignore his sly murmur and hungry gaze. He plants a hand on the thigh hidden by your canvas pants, and you resist the fatalistic urge to separate his fingers from his-

A whoosh of noise, a shout by the soldier in the front seat. Garbled, surprised Russian, and you make out the shout of GRENADE!! before the world groans and twists violently around you.

The truck lands upside down, and you kick out the window to escape, haul the unconscious oligarch out behind you, then the driver. The convoy screeches to a halt, darkness illuminated by growing flames and bright bursts of gunshots. A comrade runs to assist your stumbling stance even as you try to drag your package to another truck, and he gets three steps before he crumples to the ground. The bridge where the convoy is halted is precarious, prone to gunfire, and you can hear panicked shouts as those in the trucks behind you realize the mangled wreckage of your Humvee blocks the way.

Another grenade, and this one is close. It knocks you flat onto your back, scatters asphalt and dust over you. There’s a ringing in your ears that deafens gunshots to distant pops, and even your groan of pain sounds like it comes from under water. Your helmet has been knocked from your face, and when you tilt your head to the side you see hostiles growing closer, nearly atop you.

You stand, turn, fall again as a bullet grazes your shoulder. Yet there’s a shout then from behind you, one you stubbornly ignore as you rise once more, stagger towards the edge of the bridge.

That name again, the once that’s become familiar to you by now, the one that isn’t yours. You bend over the railing, stare at the current below, racing in the darkness. The voice calls again, and you turn, stare at the face partially obscured by his helmet. Brown eyed, a mustache, younger than your spirit feels. You’ve seen him before, and you don’t know where, like he’s appeared in a distant dream.

Hands off his weapon, he takes a step towards you, repeats the name in a cracked, desperate call. You look at him, feel fear of the unknown once more pulse between your ribs. The ringing in your ears grows louder, and you stumble backwards in uncertainty. He reaches for you.

“Wait-” He tries, gaze open with despair. “Please.”

“I know you.” You breathe, seeing the way the fire alights across his brown skin in amber hues. “I...”

A step back, a stumble. You pitch over the railing, into the water.

Darkness surrounds you.

Taglist:

(If you'd like to be tagged in future updates, please reblog this post and add 'taglist')

@writeforfandoms @alicesfracturedmirror @soapskneebrace @badame0224 @mayhem-baby @emrzennn @papaver-decervicatus

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#makarov x reader #makarov x you #makarov x f! reader #Makarov x y/n #cod x reader #darkfic tw #darkfic #dead dove do not eat #fic: engravings #mwIII #call of duty mwiii #cod mwiii #call of duty modern warfare 3 #x reader #reader insert

[strawb3rrystar]

Sweet tooth.

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow, Sejanus Plinth, Festus Creed, Treech, Reaper Ash, Tanner, Jessup Diggs x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Oral (F! Receiving), Manhandling, Teasing, Spanking, Fingering, Overstimulation, Face riding

Word count: 380

✰Masterlist

✰Coriolanus Snow whose nose rubs against your clit as he eats you out like a starved man. Holding your hips down so you don't squirm. Whose cock drools as you pull on his hair, rutting his hips into the bed, waiting to stuff your cunt full.

✰Sejanus Plinth who takes his time with you. Kissing up your thighs and teasing your clit. He loves it when you push his head down, needy for his tongue to fill you. But he's ever so sweet, helping you cum with wanting anything in return.

✰Festus Creed who has you face down, ass up. Teasing your hole until you're crying, your weepy little cunt so desperate for his mouth. He'll spank you if you whine too much. Sometimes if you're too noisy for his liking, he'll edge you and then ruin your orgasm, or he'll use your mouth to get off while you don't get anything.

✰Treech who has his eyes on you while he snacks on your sweet pussy. He wants to watch every movement you make, the way your body twitches and your chest heaves as you cum. He wants to hear you try and hold back your moans, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth.

✰Reaper Ash whose so gentle and caring with you. Sucking on your puffy clit while his fingers circle your needy hole. He slips his fingers into your pussy, enjoying the wet tightness of your walls. He loves it when you moan his name so sweetly, your loving boyfriend the only person on your mind.

✰Tanner whose addicted to your sweet taste. Who wakes you up with his head between your plush thighs. Dragging an orgasm from you before heading off to the slaughterhouse for the day. Who drinks up your juices as you meekly tremble from overstimulation.

✰Jessup Diggs who wants you to ride his face. If you're too shy to put your body weight on him, he'll grab your hips and pull your body down himself. Helping keep you up right as your thighs tremble from how good his tongue makes you feel. He loves that when you start to approach your release you can only focus on that. Rutting your pussy on his face until you're cumming, leaving him with a smile and a mouth covered in slick.

Star's notes -> All of my favorite Ballad boys (Not you Coriolanus)

(Requests are open!)

Taglist -> @arzua10 @candiedhearts55 @delightfulbelieverwerewolf @toxicbimbo @haymitchabernathyslover @saturnbourne | Join the taglist

#☆strawb3rrystar writes #☆the hunger games #tbosas x reader #tbosas #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #sejanus plinth x reader #sejanus x reader #sejanus plinth #sejanus smut #reaper ash x reader #reaper ash #treech x reader #treech tbosas #treech #festus creed #festus creed x reader #tanner tbosas #tanner x reader #jessup diggs #jessup diggs x reader

[myrequestblog]

Request Rules and My Favorite Characters

I can do other characters, but if you don’t specify which characters you want I will choose from these

Undertale AUs:

Classic

Swap

Fell

Nightmare

Dream

Ink

Error

Geno

Reaper

Fresh

Paperjam

Fellswap

Swapfell

Horror

G

Mafiafell (Sooner or Later You’re Gonna Be Mine)

Grillby AUs

Gaster AUs

Flowey AUs

FNaF DCA:

Sun

Moon

Eclipse

Bloodmoon

City of Blank:

Jericho

Claude (I will only write gay headcannons for him. Sorry notsorry)

Rex

Black Butler:

(I refuse to do Ciel or Alois, unless the reader is of similar age)

Sebastian

Grell

Undertaker

Jujutsu Kaisen:

Gojo

Yuji

Maki

Geto

Mahito (He’s an jack@$$ and I hate what he did but he’s hot)

Sukuna

Toji

That one white and blue curse that almost killed Yuji, and that I’ve decided to call ‘Akuma’ (Mostly platonic and/or pet-owner type relationships (Keyword ‘mostly’))

Hunter X Hunter:

I refuse to do Gon or Killua, unless the reader is of similar age

Hisoka

Illumi

Chrollo

Demon Slayer:

(I refuse to do any minors x reader, unless the reader is of similar age)

Kagaya (Platonic/parental only)

Giyu

Shinobu

Rengoku

Mitsuri and Obanai (All headcannons with these two are gonna be poly)

Muchiro (Parental/fraternal/platonic only)

Uzui

Muzan

Rui (Parental/fraternal/platonic only)

All upper ranks aside from 4 and 5

Enmu

Sabito

Senjuro

Dummy’s Dummy:

Paris

The Lalah twins

Polakov (We’ve been conditioned to hate him and have no major reason to actually dislike him)

Ivan

The Toy Soldier

Creepypasta:

Slenderman

Splendorman

Offenderman

Jeff the Killer

Jane the Killer

Eyeless Jack

Laughing Jack (Mainly gay headcannons for him)

Candypop

Ticci Toby

Masky and Hoodie (All headcannons with these two are gonna be poly)

Jason the Toymaker

Ben Drowned

Lost Silver

Zalgo

Evil

John Doe:

John Doe

House Hunted:

Maison

Yandere Simulator:

Yan-Chan

Rivals

Senpai

Gaster Gang:

Wingdings

Swap

Fell

Stars

Blindy

Swapfell

The void anomalies (Pet-owner relationships only)

Welcome Home Wally AUs:

Wally Darling

Reboot Wally

Lovesick Wally

Watcher Wally

Rainbow Factory Wally

Opposite Wally

Other Wally AUs

Sally Face:

Sal/Sally Face

Larry

Ash

Trevor

Fran Bow:

Only platonic relationships

Fran Bow

Mr Midknight

Itward

Deltarune:

Kris

Ralsei

Suzie and Noelle (Only lesbian poly for them, sorry)

Ralsei

Jevil

The Amulet Series:

Trellis

Emily

Gabilan

Max

Misket

Riva

Leon

SCP:

(Too many to say, but to start with-)

The indestructible lizard

The plague doctor

SCP-914 "The Bettering Machine"

The shy guy

"God"

Deal with the devil

A LOT more

Hazbin Hotel:

Charlie and Vaggie (Only romantic options for them is lesbian poly)

Alastor (Platonic, parental, friendship only. I’m sticking with the cannon that he is AroAce. Sorry 😅)

Angel and Husk (Gay poly is the only romantic options here. If u don’t like it, just keep it to yourself.)

Vox

Valentinto (He’s the worst person in existence but he’s damn sexy (unfortunately). We can all agree on that. I won’t make my bias against him known in the requests, I promise.)

Velvette

Lucifer

Adam (Because some people like him🤷 )

Rosie

Lute

Lilith (Or my rendition of her)

Carmilla

Zestial (Or my rendition of him)

Sera

If you have headcanons to ask for but don’t have anything specific in mind, use some emojis:

🥰 Fluff

🥀 Angst

🔞 Smut (Smut will be kept private unless the asker wishes to share)

😎 Chaos

🤩 Reader has powers/magic

🥳 Birthday Ask

🤕 Injured Reader

🤒 Sick Reader

🙅 Platonic

🫀 Yandere

🪢 Soulmate AU

🏳️‍🌈 LGBTQ

🐣 Reader is a Child

😺 animal or animal-related reader

👾 IRL reader

⚙ Using SCP-914

❤️/🧡/💛/💚/💙/💜/🖤/🤍 Reader Has a Specific Soul Color

💀 Undertale

🌓 DCA

👤 City of Blank

🤵‍♂️ Black Butler

💀 Jujutsu Kaisen

🍀 Hunter X Hunter

🗡️ Demon Slayer

🪡 Dummy’s Dummy

🔪 Creepypasta

👁️ John Doe

🏚️ House Hunted

💘 Yandere Simulator

🕳️ Gaster Gang

🎨 Welcome Home Wally AUs

👻　Sally Face

👧 Fran Bow

⚜️ Deltarune

📿 Amulet

❓ SCP

😈 Hazbin Hotel

(Example: 🐣+😎+👤 would be ‘Young reader causing chaos in the City of Blank’)

✅✅✅:

Fluff

Suggestive ideas or themes

Platonic Child X Parental figure

OC X Character

Fandom Crossovers

Yanderes

Character X Pregnant!Reader

Homosexuality

Heterosexuality

Polyamory

Depression

Anxiety

Mental Illnesses

Black Lives Matter

Any and all religious beliefs are welcome, however I know very little about most religions, so please be gentle with me

Death

Dealing with death

Pain (physical or emotional)

Injuries

Traumatic accidents or happenings

Bad parenting

Memes

Vines

Puns

Commented ideas

Suggestive

Having characters avoid their cannon death

Nicknames for characters

Furry-related content

Trans reader

Gay reader

Lesbian reader

Bi reader

Pan reader

LGBTQ readers welcome

Readers and characters with different nationalities

Readers and characters with different skin tones

Readers and characters who speak other languages

Readers and characters who are different species

Readers and characters with disabilities

Readers and characters with autism

Readers and characters with mental abnormalities

Readers and characters with physical abnormalities

Readers and characters with physical ailments

Readers and characters with varying levels of intelligence

Readers and characters with trauma

Readers and characters with conditions like vitiligo

Readers and characters who need things like a cane, a wheelchair, or limb braces

Young reader

Pyrotechnics ❤️‍🔥

Fandom crossovers (Highly encouraged for SCP ideas)

Age regression

Settings in different countries and continents

Truth or dare

❌❌❌:

Pedophillia

Necrophillia (Unless the person who is ‘dead’ becomes ‘the walking dead and can give permission’)

Power plays (unless sexual and with permission from the partner)

Sexual assault or r@p3

Homophobia

Transphobia

(What’s another phobia- we don’t like spiders either. Spiders are ugly)

Rac*sm

Abuse of any kind, unless part of and/or needed for a backstory or something

Politics

Hate crimes

Alcoholism

Drugs

Human trafficking

Child abuse

Underage drinking

Death of major characters

Death of comfort characters

Slurs

Smut (Suggestive stuff is a yes but a no on smut. Sorry peeps)

This account is SPECIFICALLY for requests.

ALL OF THIS IS COMPLETELY FREE!

Most of these will be in headcannon form or incorrect quotes but feel free to ask for something different!

I often update this post so remember to check every once and awhile.

If you have questions or concerns, let me know!

Main blog:

#ask #main post #pinned post #rules #request rules #request board #send me asks #anons welcome #ask me #send me anons #blog rules #guidelines #undertale #undertale aus #fnaf dca #city of blank #black butler #JJK #jujutsu kaisen #hunter x hunter #demon slayer #dummy’s dummy #creepypasta #john doe game #john doe #house hunted #yandere simulator #gaster gang #sally face #fran bow

[tonberry-yoda]

Last Updated - 8/7/23 Total Works - 39

Fics:

->Oops - Junkrat (Jamison Fawkes) ->You Don't Have to Miss Me - Reaper ->Dumbass - Junkrat ->230 - Cole Cassidy ->Escape - Sigma ->Reaper's Wife - Reaper ->Late Work - Doomfist ->Vinyl Collection - Lucio ->Hopeful - Ramattra ->Lab Assistant - Sigma ->Hand Holding - Sigma ->Secret Admirer - Ramattra ->Cupid - Hanzo -> Helpful Human - Ramattra -> Betrayal - Cole Cassidy x Ashe -> Blackwatch Genji smooches -> Out Like a Light - Cole Cassidy -> Forehead Kisses - Cole Cassidy -> How Was Your Day? - Junkerqueen

Headcanon Scenarios:

->Ramattra with a human s/o who works in a flower shop -> Cooking with Lifeweaver -> Junkerqueen, Junkrat, Ramattra, and Moira with an s/o that loves piggyback rides -> Lifeweaver with a shy m!reader -> Lifeweaver, Ramattra, Junkrat, and Hanzo cheering up their s/o after a bad day -> Lifeweaver with an s/o who loves to prank him a lot -> Zenyatta, Ramattra, Lifeweaver, and Moira with a helping s/o who def loves them -> Ramattra with a flirty reader -> Ramattra with a shy f!reader -> Lifeweaver with a transmasc reader -> Lifeweaver with an s/o who keeps killing his plants

Character Headcanons:

->Cole Cassidy ->Sigma ->Junkrat ->Genji ->Hanzo ->Baptiste ->Zenyatta

~~~~~

2023 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appriciated &lt;3

~~~~~

#do not reblog #masterlist #overwatch #overwatch 2 #overwatch x reader #overwatch 2 x reader

[acradelius]

hellooo so i had a nsfw scenario in mind with moira, sombra, and ashe (separate) x fem reader.

how they would react to reader pretending she was going to give them oral, only to pick something off the ground instead?

"Oo, What's This?~"

Fandom: Overwatch

Pairings: Moira O'Deorain x F!Reader, Sombra (Olivia Colomar) x F!Reader, Ashe "Calamity" x F!Reader

Rating: Lemon [🟡] (NSFW!)

Warnings/Mention Ofs: Cunninglingus, Lesbianism, Fingering, Nickname Usage, Comedic Endings, Gabriel's Nude Photos

Word Count: 769 Words

Author's Note: I can only imagine what these (Y/N)s would also be finding

[ MOIRA ]

Moira, for once, is unsure on how she feels about the situation that just happened. Here she was intoxicated, laying back on the bed with her legs spread out to reveal to her girlfriend, (Y/N), that she was rubbing her clit. Giving or receiving cunninglingus has become a part of her and her girlfriend’s routine, and after many times of being the one giving the cunninglingus, she decided it was about time that (Y/N) was to return the favor. She giggles softly, enjoying the way that her girlfriend on her knees in front of her eyes her now soaked cunt, teasingly dipping a finger into her pussy once or twice, eyeing (Y/N) as she leans forward. Yet, she then becomes confused by (Y/N) whenever her eyes widen and a grin makes way to her lips, then disappears out of view for a few moments. “Darling, are you okay down there? I know that it’s been awhile, so the experience can be a little overwhelming~” What she didn’t expect was for (Y/N) to jump back up from her disappeared position, plopping herself onto the bed between Moira’s thighs with a tube that had been filled with a glittering purple slime, little moon and sun charms in it as well. “Look, Moira! It’s that slime that we made a couple of weeks ago! I’ve been wondering where it has gone!” Moira starts chuckling, watching as her girlfriend takes the slime out of the tube and starts playing with it. “Well, you better enjoy your newfound fun, because here in a moment you have to get back to eating out my cunt~”

[ SOMBRA ]

Olivia is absolutely cracking up, laughing so hard that she believes that she might possibly be dying, but it’s more at what (Y/N) has happened to find rather than the fact that she decided to momentarily delay eating out Olivia. It started with some all day teasing, both the girls being quite aroused by the time they had some time to themselves. They both decide that either bedroom of theirs is too much of a trip just to indulge in each other, so what do they do? Head into the nearest bedroom, which happened to be the room of the one and only Reaper, or Gabriel Reyes. “Better make this quick, caja~ Before Mr. Grumpy comes back and gripes about us fornicating in his personal space again~” Olivia says, watching as (Y/N) quickly strips out of her clothes and then pulls Olivia to the edge of the bed, spreading her legs open. “Oh, my god!” (Y/N) quickly yells out, letting go of Olivia before disappearing from view, the sound of shuffling and some grunting happening before (Y/N) pops back up into view again, holding up some polaroid pictures in her hand. “Gabriel has nudes!” Predetermined cunninglingus turns into the two women lounging on the bed, giggling up a storm at the polaroid pictures of a nude Gabriel, the pictures obviously having been for a significant other or past lover due to how lewd the pictures were. Either way, it’s more about the bonding in the relationship more than it is about the sex, right? 

[ ASHE ]

Overall, Ashe is quite amused, but yet not surprised about how the situation goes, considering that this isn’t the first time that it has happened. A successful heist, two women still thriving on the remaining adrenaline and now an unaccounted amount of booze in their system, leads to the two entangling themselves within each other. Ashe knows that (Y/N) knows what she wants, seeing that she makes it visibly clear by the word leaving her mouth on how she wants (Y/N) to devour her cunt until the sun comes up, and her thumb brushing against her clit as Ashe thrusts her fingers into her soaked cunt. Her free hand is entangled within (Y/N)’s hair, bringing her closer to her cunt before letting out a whining noise at (Y/N) escaping her hold and disappearing out of sight. “Honey, I’m sure whateva’ thing is down there can wait till later~ I need ya right now~'' What she didn’t expect was for (Y/N) to make her way back into appearance clutching what seemed to be a Pachimari plush toy, but it had been customized to resemble BOB. “Really, babe?~ You’ll get one of BOB, but yet won’t get one of me?~” Soft laughter leaves both the women, Ashe once again going to grip (Y/N)’s hair. “How ‘bout we have our fun first, then we go get one of ya?~”

#moira o'deorain #overwatch moira #olivia colomar #sombra overwatch #elizabeth caledonia ashe #ashe overwatch #x female reader #lemon rating #requests?! thank you<3

[corazondebeskar-reads]

seasons don't

jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader

originally for Febuwhump 2024 Day 9 - lightning strike | Febuwhump masterlist

words: 300~

summary: Your husband dies a hero, but it's no comfort to you.

warnings: DEAD DOVE do not eat, Joel is dead, not canon compliant, no golfing, house fire, lightning strike, smoke inhalation, grief, endangered children (they are fine), suicide, suicide by gun, holy shit I'm so sorry this is just 300 words of absolute sadness, do NOT read if any of this will trigger you. pls remember I love you & be kind 😬

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Of the things that would take Joel Miller, you can’t say you’d have predicted a house fire. It wasn’t even his house, of course. After the summer storm brought lightning down on the Williamson’s two-story craftsman, he went in after two of the boys that didn’t make it out with the rest. 

Of course he did. 

He’d never believed you, not really, when you’d gaze up at him with a hand on his arm and croon, “Joel Miller, the man that you are,” in awe. He only saw the killer and never the kindness. 

He found the first boy quickly, lost and confused in the thick, black smoke, and had him out on the street with his parents in minutes.

When they come to tell you—two strangers, not even Tommy or Ellie, who would never feed you such bullshit—they keep saying, “It’s okay. He wasn’t hurt, and with the smoke, it’s just like falling asleep.” 

“It was peaceful,” they say, desperate to provide comfort that isn’t, can’t be there.

Because you know it wasn’t. 

Joel, your Joel, who was a father down to his bones, his truest nature, went back in for a kid who wasn’t there. The two year old was safe in the neighbor’s bushes, but by the time they found him, it was too late. 

And there could have been no greater pain for your husband as he slowly left this world than thinking he’d let a baby die. 

No matter the afterlife, Joel would never know peace. 

Not unless you can bring it to him. 

Your bedroom smells like smoke. The whole town does, even weeks after the rain smothers the flames. The ash still rolls through with the wind, and it’s what makes up your mind, in the end. 

On your knees at the end of your marital bed, wrapped in him in the only way you could be now, bundled in his warm tan coat, you recall the story he told you so long ago. 

You don’t flinch.

*title from "(Don't Fear) the Reaper" by Blue Oyster Cult

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #dead dove fic #major character death #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday9

[hotdamnhunnam]

Kutte Open

A/N: Okay bitches, I don’t even know why I did this 🥲 I guess it’s no secret that I’m emotionally masochistic?! I’m also a masochist sexually, when it comes to Charlie, fucking obviously, but (shockingly for me) there is no sex in this. I mean there sort of is I guess? But I digress. This takes place in the KutteVerse series, set near the end of Kutte to Black Part 3. But it can also be read as a standalone angst thingy.

I saw the gif and was listening to this song, one that I’ve loved since I was young – Coldplay’s “A Message” – and that resulted in this absolute wreckage 💔

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: swearing, tiny bit of smut, death death death angst angst angst like I’m sorry but also I’m not?? 🙃 

Word Count: ~1.5k

He doesn’t dare.

It kills him but he doesn’t care.

Thumb hovers just above the low light of the screen. He keeps these messages from you to fill the empty in between. Between this life and what comes after. Pray against all odds you’re waiting for him there. He doesn’t have a fucking prayer. Still he’s hoping. Fill the silence with the echo of your smile as it shatters into laughter. Heart cut open. Hopes to find you in the tear.

You’re everywhere.

Rush of your breath. Brush of your hair. Crush of your skin, crashing in love so deep it had to be a sin. The absence crushing him to death. The weight of nothing just too much. Broken and bare. Desperate to touch. Just heavy air.

You’re everywhere.

You knew the risk you chose to make, the chance you had to take, and you were never scared. You looked the reaper in the eye and fucking dared. Fuck’s sake, he wishes you had left some of that strength here in the hollow of his heart now as it aches. Each beat a break. But you left nothing in your wake.

Just heavy air. It hurts to breathe and so some nights he doesn’t dare.

You’re everywhere.

You’re everywhere.

You’re nowhere.

Dark of night—into the light—he wants to go there.

Spends himself into his hand. Release spills dull and pale without a place to land. To you this pearly white had promised love and life and you’d have died for just a drop. You’d take it all in every hole and never stop. Beam up at him with beauty brighter than the beast in him could stand.

The fairytale ended as fast as it began and he won’t ever stand for anything again.

He’d tried, and failed like hell, to be with someone once. After a spell of many months. You’d understand. It’s what you would’ve wanted, everyone had said—as if they had a goddamn clue what you would want—the beast has needs that can be fed only in bed. Jax could still hold you in his heart and in his head. Just seek release inside another nameless cunt. No vow is broken now you’re dead.

But that’s the thing. You’re fucking not.

You’re still breathing. As long as his heart is still beating. You had always been the reason. Summer rose outlives its season. Bright hot memory of you the only breath of life he’s got.

He doesn’t dare to play the record of your voice. His wrecked heart shudders at the thought. But doesn’t have a fucking choice.

The message on the screen from years ago demands that he descend into the void knowing full well that it destroys.

Hits play, just as he had that fateful day, and holds it up against his ear.

Pretends you’re here.

“J-Jax.”

Parted for years, still tastes the salt spill of your tears. Comes flooding back. All of his bones are dashed to ash as your voice cracks.

“Jax, someone’s here and I…” pause as you hear a muffled sob—the infant son, you’d come to love just as your own, those bright blue eyes—sweet baby Abel, in his crib upon the table. There beside you in those moments when your heart was doomed to stop. You’d save the son from that same fate if it’s the last damn thing you’d do. “Baby, don’t cry. Mama’s got you. Shhh little angel don’t you cry.”

Don’t cry. How dare you tell him not to cry. Don’t die. How dare you fucking die.

“Whatever happens, Jax, I just…” Jax feels your heart echo its last beats in his chest. You fear the few men standing watch will fail in their noble defense no matter if they try their best. There was no reason to expect that you’d have uninvited guests. But just to live this life of chaos ran the risk of sudden threats. Such is the price of life as queen to your beloved king. “…want you to know I wouldn’t change a fucking thing.”

Cut your heart open with the diamond on that godforsaken ring.

“Coming back home and staying here to be with you was the best thing I ever did. Don’t you dare blame yourself for anything,” you say knowing full well he’s a self-hating piece of shit. “Any of it.”

Another pause looking down at the little kid. Someday he might’ve called you mom. Jax sees the smile break across your face although he wasn’t home. He wasn’t there. Soft hand sweeps over sun-gold hair. Angel eyes so much like his father it’s not fair.

He feels you now. Deeper somehow. The reaper feeding on his fears. His eyes fall shut to weep your tears. He isn’t here—he’s somewhere else—he wasn’t there. Don’t blame yourself. You make him vow. Don’t break that vow. He doesn’t dare.

“Don’t fucking dare. I love you so much if it kills me I don’t care.”

God, it’s just not—not fucking fair…

“I’ll love you still. I always will.”

Last words before the line goes dead just as the reaper comes to kill.

Words echo long after the message ends. The weight of truth no line could ever send. Words are violence. In his heart he’d always heard you best in silence.

When your young love had first blossomed in that rosy Redwood haze, the two of you had vowed to love each other till your dying days. Swore it again eleven years later when you became his bride.

Only at death’s bed did you realize you would love him harder from the other side.

I said I’d love you till I died.

I fucking lied.

Reaper can’t keep this heart from beating for you even if he tried.

He tried.

God knows he fucking tried.

Yet true to your words Jax can feel your heart still beating ‘cause it’s his. Hole in his chest cut open wide. That’s what this is. You never left since you first made your home inside.

***************

The message from the day you died—the fatal seconds just before—there shouldn’t have been any record that could cut him open more.

But so there is and so he listens here tonight.

Bleeds on the knife, cleaves to it tight. It bleeds like life. The life that lost a dying fight.

Message from just a few days prior to the night he lost his light.

“Hey,” voice is quiet but bright—almost as if you knew you were holding the reaper at bay—fighting, hiding away. But you didn’t know shit. You just knew that you’d never been happier than on that day. Had no clue that the door was flung wide for the reaper to close it. “Just wanted to say I can’t wait to come home, babe. Been so fucking giddy all day and maybe it’s the hormones but work is a bitch and I’ve got to escape.”

Night before. You and him on the bathroom floor. Seated against the wall both breathing deeply—you in his reaper tee, him in his leather. The black of his kutte the backdrop to the little white stick in your hand that could open a whole other door. Promise I haven’t taken a peek at it, Teller. Let’s check it together.

“Who even leaves voicemails these days? I’m a fucking disgrace. I just miss you. I want to just run home and hug you and fuck you and kiss you. I still can’t get over that look on your face. When the truth of it hit you.”

Hits him to this day. All his days. In his cut open heart the dead weight of the truth here to stay. Once had given such life—in the wake of his wife, it just slays.

“It still hasn’t hit me in some ways. I’m feeling so much but I’m numb. Maybe later today it’ll come?”

The hope in your voice hits across time and space. Through the rift that cut open to reap you and keep you away from his loving embrace. Hope he’s fated forever to chase.  Just come home. Just come home.

Sitting there in your office you grumble at something that somebody says. How could anyone dare cut through your happy haze? How dare they. That’s just dumb. Almost as if you knew, that the happy days left in your life were so few. Take them now as they come. 

Run to him through the wide open door before fate tries to seal it shut. Lock it. “Know what—fuck it, I’m getting out of this place.”

In his bed all alone, dead and gone, he feels you in his bones. Not your voice through the phone. Your heart beats in his own.

The crow always flies back to its calling, no matter how far it may roam.

Flying still. Always will. Carried on the last words that you spill.

“Baby, I’m coming home.”

***************

… Sooooo yeah I mean if you loved this or hated this or anything at all, please let me knowwwww and I’ll love you forever lol 🥲♥️

– KutteVerse Masterlist

– Main Masterlist

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[royallyjoon]

nephilim (un)

you know where the cred goes 💙

cult au, supernatural au

yandere! ot7 x f! reader

warnings: yandere themes, violent behavior

the mysterious, age old town of ichabod. within it rests a history hidden from its inhabitants, who are forced to remain there out of fear. you simply wish to live in this town with the people you love without facing its wrath for as long as you can. unfortunately for you, there are great powers on your side who are willing to do whatever it takes to get you. whether you come willingly or not. after all, it only takes a little hellfire

——————————————————————————

“Come along now, (Y/N).” Your mother’s grip on your wrist tightened as she all but threw you in front of her. You nearly twisted your ankle on the twigs and tree roots that outlined the forest floor. “We are late enough as it is.” 

You huffed and tore your wrist from your mother’s hand to hike up the long, white dress you wore. “Good. I wish we didn’t have to trek out here in the middle of the night every month. Maybe we’ll miss the gathering entirely.”

She smacked your arm harshly. “Not another word from you, smart mouth.” Your mother dressed similarly, the only difference being that her ivory dress paled considerably compared to yours in the moonlight. “We’ve been attending for years. I highly doubt that such a change would be allowed, much less appreciated.”

You shivered at the thought. No matter how much you resented these meetings, you wouldn’t dare miss a summoning.

You stayed quiet for ten more minutes, taking in the rustling of the forest and focusing your efforts on avoiding sharp rocks underfoot. 

Trees rested on either side of you, lining your path and blocking out any natural light with their twisting, sneaking branches. It took all of your effort to ignore the oppressive silence, broken every so often by the snapping of a trig or the movement of some animal, cloaked by shadows in the dark.

Soon enough, you and your mother reached the clearing.

She pulled you back just as you were about to step into the moonlight, throwing a dark cloak in your face. “Are you mad? Put it on!”

You smiled abashedly and threw the material on. The hood was so long it cast a shadow over the lower half of your face but was wide enough for you to see.

Your mother finished arranging her hood and the two of you stepped into the clearing, joining with the last of the circle of cloaked shadows.

The moon shone brightly without the cover of the forest giving your surroundings an ethereal facade. A wooden stage lay at the very middle of the clearing, upon which stood your small town’s resident royalty.

The Kims. 

They were the ruling force of the town, the husband being the mayor, the wife a successful actress. They both settled down in Ichabod twenty-five years ago with their children. What had once been a town amuck with violence and chaos was transformed into a prosperous, well-functioning borough.

How the Kims managed to transform the area nearly overnight, few knew. They have run your city for nearly three decades. And everyone in it is terrified to cross their path.

Directly behind them stood their seven adopted sons, faces shrouded by hoods and masks. You didn’t know too much about them besides their names and faces; five of them currently attended your school and you made sure to give them a wide berth, being as polite as possible.

Kim Moonsik raised his left arm, twisting his wrist in a full circle. He then pointed his hand at the sky, gently lowering his pinky and middle fingers. “Greetings to the moon from her earthly servants.”

You lifted your forearm with everyone else, copied the gesture, and repeated the phrase quietly with disinterest.

“I thank you all for coming on such short notice.” He continued. “As another month commences, we have the pleasure of standing before you all. The moon has graced us with her everlasting beauty and prosperity rains down upon our small town, just as it has for decades before.”

This is usually the part where you would start drifting off. Kim Moonsik could drove on with his speech about the moon for far too long.

About what felt like an hour but was approximately fifteen minutes later, Mr. Kim trailed off and the forest became so silent, you hushed your thoughts in fear of thinking too loud.

The oppressive feeling in the air returned full force and you shivered underneath the warmth of your cloak as Mr. Kim eyed each and every person attending. He was not able to directly see your face, but you felt like the man was staring into your soul.

“Regrettably,” He said, clasping his hands together, “we are not able to part tonight without the moon’s divine punishment.”

Ah, you thought. There it is.

The reason your heart pounds at every one of these meetings. 

All you wanted to do was be that half-asleep little girl again, clutched in your mother’s arms as she trudged her way here every month. 

“Wylynne has decreed that there are sinners in our midst.” Mr. Kim says it quietly, but the gravity in his words travel.

And with a mighty roar, the pyre behind the wooden stage was lit with orange flames. 

The crowd stood in silence, waiting for the dreadful sound. You quaked in the dirt. Would it be you this time? 

But by the grace of the moon, no. 

The telltale, piercing shriek came from the right side of the crowd. Citizens rushed to get away from the teenager cradled in her parents’ arms. The mother could not let go of her daughter, heavily sobbing as the child clutched her head and continued to scream. Her hood had fallen off and your eyes widened as you recognized her.

Natalia Pierre. The two of you had had some awful confrontation a few months ago. Nevertheless, the resident embers of anger could not stop the overwhelming pity you felt as the Kims’ men ripped her away from her parents.

“Please!” She cried as they forced her to her knees before the mayor. Not that she wasn’t already bent over, riddled with pain. “Knives-the knives won’t stop, please get them out!”

Kim Moonsik lay his hand on her shoulder. “Do not worry, my child. You will soon join Wylynne’s heavenly army. May your failures be a lesson, victories a reward, and may your soul live on with the moon forever.”

“May your soul live on with the moon forever.” You whispered the last phrase with everyone else, ignoring the tear that made its way down your cheek. 

Before Natalia could say another word, her screams were cut short as her body was engulfed in purple fire.

It only took a second. Within minutes, her cloak, dress, bones, and ashes were gone. She hadn’t even scorched the grass. You could almost believe you’d dreamed it if her father wasn’t kneeling next to her writhing mother in the dirt.

Mr. Kim smiled gracefully, a sight that reminded you of the grim reaper with the shadow on his face. “To her heavenly grace, the moon, may she travel. To my fellow citizens of Ichabod, I bid goodnight.”

The orange flame behind the stage was doused. You, your mother, and the crowd bowed your heads as you wished goodnight to the Kims. It was only when the last son had left the clearing did anyone else begin moving.

You clutched your mother’s hand all the way home.

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

Since before you could remember, your mother had been dragging you to Ichabod monthly town meetings. It was the Kims’ way of ensuring the people that the moon continued to bless and favor them and would send prosperity their way in return for a sacrifice. 

In short, they were trapped here and if they wished to keep their lives, they would know better than to cross the Kims.

The people that had tried to run away all failed. They would either, depending on the “grace of the moon,” show up alive right back where they started, or their bodies were placed on the front doors of relatives or neighbors.

Now, you weren’t stupid. You did not believe that it was the actions of Wylynne or whomever Mr. Kim spends his nights singing praises to. The fatal injuries were always exterior, therefore it must have been nothing other than the work of man.

Nevertheless, you were too afraid to risk leaving Ichabod. You preferred to live your life quietly, holding on to your closest friends and family. And it has been successful for the past years.

The next morning as your mom drove you to school, you used your phone’s camera to check your appearance. There were bags under your eyes, so heavy that makeup would not be enough to cover it.

As she drove, you sighed heavily and thought back to last night, wondering how Natalia could have possibly angered the Kims. She never tried to escape--at least, to your knowledge--and she never talked to them at school either...

Your mother pulled up to the curb and you stuffed your phone into your uniform pocket, kissed her on the cheek in goodbye, and closed the car door.

Ichabod Academy, the resident school for all children born and raised inside of this town. It ran from first to twelfth grade, in several different buildings, and made for quite the large campus for the size of your town. The buildings looked quite dreary from the outside with its gray walls and glass doors, most of the lights inside still off.

 It was comparable to the size of a small, inner-city university. Everyone knew everyone, for the better or worse. 

You walked to the upperclassmen building, entered your first class, and lay your head on the desk. 

Usually, you would be able to get at least four hours of sleep the night after a summoning, but last night you barely managed to achieve two. 

Natalia...she wasn’t a bad person. She made mistakes, yes, but she was human above all. 

“(Y/N)?” You heard someone gently ask. You pried your eyes open to see your best friend.

“Hey, Mana.” You yawned. “How did you sleep?”

“Better than you, clearly.” They snorted and dropped themselves into the seat in front of you. “I couldn’t believe...”

You watched them tiredly as they failed to speak their words. “I know.” You finally whispered back.

The teacher walked into the room with a student trailing behind her and you immediately sat up, warily eyeing them both. “Good morning, class. Today we have a new student, transferring from another section. Please introduce yourself.” She motioned.

As if he needed an introduction.

“Good morning, everyone. My name is Kim Jimin. I hope that we can get along and have a great year. Please take care of me.” He bowed slightly.

Your class chorused greetings and you balked slightly as you realized that the only empty seat was...

“You can take the seat next to Ms. (L/N). (Y/N), please raise your hand.”

You put your hand up and Jimin waltzed over to you with the biggest smile. He placed his bag on the floor next to the metal leg of the table. “Hello, seat mate. I hope we can get along.”

You sent a small smile his way--though it may have looked more like a grimace. “Yeah, me too.”

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

The bell rang for the break and you immediately slammed your notebook shut and dropped your head onto the desk.

Jimin giggled at your side. “Did you not sleep well last night, (Y/N)?”

You groaned out a “no”.

Mana turned around slowly and gently poked at you. “It was emotionally taxing for both of us, I think.” They said and smiled at Jimin. “I’m Mana, (Y/N)’s close friend.” 

“It’s nice to meet you.” He stated. “Emotionally taxing you say...may I ask why?” 

You lifted your head. “Mana, and I used to be good friends with the tribu--girl who was chosen last night.” You quickly corrected yourself. “Then she got involved with this guy...”

“We told Natalia he was no good news, from the very beginning.” Mana interrupted. “But she insisted that he was different with her and kind to her. Then a couple of months into their relationship he has her smoking, drinking, sneaking out to have sex-”

“And it’s not that these things are bad,” you continued. “Like it was her life and she could do what she wanted as long as she was safe, you know? But she wasn’t like that at all before. To see such a drastic change...”

“Next thing you know, he’s spreading her private pictures across the entire campus.” Mana’s fist clenched and you put your hand on theirs to relieve the anger. “We tried to talk to him about her and he was always rude to us, dismissing us off-hand and insulting Natalia behind her back. (Y/N) tried to confront her about his behavior and Natalia fought her, saying she was just jealous of them.”

“After that, we lost touch with her.” You said. “But I would give anything to go back and speak to her, or just apologize.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Mana fumed. 

“The power of Wylynne is divine and just.” Jimin commented as he stared at you and your friend, unblinking. “She must have taken Ms. Pierre into her celestial army to spare her from facing the punishment of her earthly crimes for the rest of her life. She always has a reason, after all.” 

Mana looked at the table awkwardly. “Yes,” they said, “praise Wylynne.”

You nodded.

“(Y/N)?” Jimin looked at you expectedly. You weren’t familiar with the weight of his gaze, but you quickly learned it wasn’t something you were trying to get accustomed to.

“Praise Wylynne.” You said, flashing another grimace-smile.

Jimin’s eyes disappeared as he smiled and the bell rang, signaling the end of break. 

——————————————————————————

As the bell rang for lunch, Mana practically yanked your joint out of the socket with how quickly they wanted to leave the classroom. “Come on, we should try and get some food in is before next period.” On the way out, however, you couldn’t help but notice Jimin pulling out a plastic bag that contained a series of containers. There was one large plastic container that had what looked like a main meal, accompanied by four smaller containers that held side dishes.

Jimin sighed forlornly at the pile and you felt a touch of pity for him. Before Mana could drag you out the room completely, you tapped them, gesturing with your head at Jimin and making puppy dog eyes.

They sent you a look that clearly questioning your sanity, but you rolled your eyes in return, gesturing once more to Jimin. A couple of seconds of staring later, Mana allowed you to drag them back over to his desk. 

“Hey Jimin,” you gently approached him, “why are you eating lunch in the classroom?”

“Oh...” his face drooped even more. “...My little brothers and I would always stay behind while everyone else left to go to the cafeteria. We found it uncomfortable to enter that place when everyone would just go quiet and speak around us in whispers....I guess it was just a force of habit.”

You nodded in sad understanding on the outside but sighed in the back of your head. Of course people would avoid them. The Kim children were abandoned out of fear and respect rather than any overt effort to ostracize them.

Before, Jimin was probably accustomed to eating with his brothers Taehyung and Jungkook, but this morning’s schedule and class adjustment ripped the three apart.

You put a hand on his desk, wanting to show comfort without crossing borders. “Well, Mana and I would love to get to know you better as a classmate, or friend... you’re welcome to sit with us if you want?”

Jimin’s eyes widened, glistening with moisture. He snapped his head up, cheeks rosy with a hopeful blush. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude...”

“You’re not intruding! Come on, I’ll grab your bag for you.” Jimin rushed to pack up the containers. He took his bag from you with a smile. “Thank you both,” he whispered.

Walking through the relatively empty school halls with a Kim gave you a sense of confidence you didn’t need. You walked in a line, with you betwixt Mana and Jimin. All the students that saw you widened their eyes and bolted to the side to make way. It wasn’t because of you or Mana--you knew this--but the feeling made you uncomfortable.

It was powerful.

When you all arrived at the cafeteria, you tried to enter inconspicuously by piggybacking behind some tall classmates but it failed miserably. The moment Jimin was spotted, people indeed stopped talking and the room was engulfed in whispers. 

You gently took Jimin by the elbow, smiling at him assuredly, and directed him towards your and Mana’s usual table. It was thankfully empty, so you put your bags down and took your wallets out. 

“We’ll be right back, we’re just gonna go buy some food,” you stated, hearing chatter pick back up. Your best friend must have shot everyone their “mind your business” glare. Jimin nodded, neatly unpacking his lunch. Mana all but dragged you off.

“‘We’d love to get to know you better’? Seriously, (Y/N)! There’s a reason why people avoid the Kims! And you just openly invite one to our lunch table? Are you trying to become the next sacrifice?!” They harshly stage whispered.

“Come on, Mana,” you scoffed as you arrived at the lunch bar. “He’s been separated from his only brother in his class and trapped with a bunch of strangers. The least we could do is eat lunch with him. Don’t transfer the sins, or fear, of the parent to the child.”

Mana glared at you for a long while but eventually huffed out their agreement. “Fine.”

You payed for your food and walked back to the table where your new classmate was politely waiting. “Aw, you didn’t have to wait for us, but thanks!”

“Of course I had to! I should be the ones thanking you for being willing to sit and eat with me...” Jimin spoke ever so softly, looking down at the lunch table.

In this moment, it was easy to forget the fear that lingered from yesterday’s cold, dark night. It was easy to take the hand of the cherubic boy that sat before you and give it a reassuring squeeze. “Think nothing of it. We’re going to be doing this a lot more often, so please look forward to it!”

It was easy to forget the curve of his lip as he quickly hid an arrogant smirk, morphing it into his trademark angelic smile. “Yes, please take care of me!”

--------------------------------————————————

Lunch was quite awkward, as it was the first time the three of you had spent a meal together. You and Mana were used to speaking about anything and everything during lunch. You both especially tackled controversial opinions concerning the Kims and their vice-like grip on the minds of those in this town.

Clearly, in this case, that would not have made for clever conversation.

Jimin saved the discussion by turning it towards school, questioning you both on your favorite classes and teachers. If he was able to tell how religiously liberal you were, he was excellent at hiding it. 

He shared funny anecdotes of shenanigans he accomplished with his brothers, stories that had the three of you holding your stomachs in laughter. 

For the most part, you and your friend were relieved. Jimin was not nearly as terrifying as some of his siblings.

Time passed swiftly and before you knew it, the warning bell sounded, prompting people to throw out the rest of their lunch and swarm through the doors. 

You grabbed your and Mana’s tray, throwing the waste away as necessary and placing the trays on the counter, thanking the lunch lady that took them. Then you headed back towards the table, where the two awaited you.

Unlike the passageway that was fairly empty on your way towards the cafeteria, the halls were now teeming with students. They whispered non discreetly, taking glances at the three of you as you walked.

Mana grabbed your arm, letting Jimin go slightly in front as they pulled you back to whisper in your ear. “I could get used to the attention.”

They started snickered but yelped when you slapped their arm. “You wouldn’t be saying that for long. Think of how annoying the constant whispers would get. The Kims have to suffocate underneath all that attention.” You muttered back. Mana considered your words, eventually nodding their head in agreement.

Your best friend did not often have a gentle temperament. They would blow up at students fairly quickly--especially if they were whispering in their face.

The two of you reached the classroom, thanking Jimin as he held the door. Your classmates’ voices hushed and you internally sighed. If you hadn’t noticed their explicit cautiousness before, you definitely did now.

The teacher for the next lesson, Mrs. Hargrove, came in quickly after you, placing stacks of papers on their desk and shutting down conversation.  

“Good afternoon, students. I hope everyone had a great lunch.” Mrs. Hargrove’s appearance looked a little more frazzled than usual as she pushed her frizzy hair behind her ears and smoothed down her skirt, but no one made a comment on it. “Today, we’re going to be making an adjustment to our syllabus. Rather than have you all complete individual projects and two tests for semester, I will be placing you in pairs where you will complete a much larger research project with only one test.”

Some of your classmates sighed in relief while others groaned, and you all erupted into conversations. You didn’t mind completing an individual project, but the stress of research and choosing the topic would weigh on you for a while.

Mana turned to you, dread written all over their face. “We’re going to have to research? Kill me now. What topic do you think we should choose?”

You giggle at their dramatic antics but are swiftly interrupted by the teacher. “Actually, Ms. Waye, Ms. (L/N) will be working with Mr. Kim here...as they are seat mates after all.” Mrs. Hargrove glanced over to Jimin, almost as if she were looking for something in his expression. 

His face gave away nothing and he disregarded her with a stare. 

Mana sneered at the teacher’s blatant disregard for their pronouns, but Mrs. Hargrove paid them no mind, eyes blown wide open as if she’d seen the devil himself. She turned away, stuttering.

“You w-will all be working with your seat mates. I don’t want you taking up any class time to fight over who will be your partner. Now that we have an even amount of students in our class, it settles everything quite nicely. As for the chosen topic, I want each pair to research and present on a certain mythological creature.”

You smiled apologetically at Mana, who pouted and turned around to talk to their partner.

Mrs. Hargrove walked back up to the front of the class, handing out the stacks of papers with the required information for the assignment.

“So, (Y/N),” Jimin calling your name broke your attention from the teacher and you looked over at him. “What creature do you think we should research?”

“I’m not sure...but I kind of wanted to talk about a more obscure creature. We could choose one that isn’t as highly discussed.” You said excitedly.

“That’s a good idea! I’m pretty sure my parents have some old books of lore in our library at home...we’d easily be able to find a creature that people don’t know about there. Would you want to come over and check them out?” Jimin offered.

You stared at him, grin slightly slipping. Going to the Kim household? Without your mother’s hand to hold, or reprimanding to keep you from doing something foolish? This would be completely different from meeting them in the woods and escaping to the safety of your home afterwards.

You’d be walking into the lions’ den of your own volition.

Jimin saw your hesitation and his face crumpled. “It’s fine if you don’t want to...I’d understand,” he muttered.

But seeing his crestfallen expression, you shook all the bad thoughts from your head. “No! It’s fine. I would love to come over...I just have to let my mom know.”

What is she going to do--say no? You thought to yourself, grimacing.

Jimin’s face broke out into the biggest smile you’d seen today. “Really? That’s great!” His cheeks were full in happiness and you felt immensely better. 

You raised your hand, bringing Mrs. Hargrove over. “May I go make a quick phone call to my mother?”

She nods, glancing again at your partner. You wanted to extricate yourself from the strange atmosphere as soon as possible, so you shoved your phone in your pocket and trekked out into the hall.

You fully weren’t expecting your mother to answer, but she picked up after only a few rings. “Hello?”

“Hey Mom,” you said. “How’s everything at work?”

“Fine,” she said. “I can’t be on the phone for long--what’s up?”

“Would it be okay for me to go over to a classmate’s house for a school project? We were just assigned it and we need to do research. It’s a really big part of our grade this semester.”

She was silent for a moment. “Who is this classmate?”

“...Kim Jimin.”

You pulled the phone away from your ear and scanned your eyes up and down the hallway as your mother’s volume increased by multiple decibals.

“Yes, I know...He invited me to his house, he said his parents have books we can look into...yes, it’s necessary, unless you want my grades to drop!”

In your determination to placate your mother, you didn’t notice the classroom door opening, nor did you notice the shadow that lurked around the corner.

“Mom, we can’t exactly refuse...it’s just a school project, I’ll be fine!” 

You sighed in exasperation as your mother launched off a series of directions, ordering you to text her every hour and watch your behavior around the Kims in her absence. After a string of “yes”, “I know”, and “I will”s, you hung up the phone, shaking your head.

You shoved the device in your pocket and hightailed it to the nearest bathroom, wanting to splash some water on your face before returning to class.

Jimin smirked at your retreating figure, taking his own phone out and tapping out a message. Once he received the response he was looking for, he tucked his phone away, brightened his facial expression, and opened the door to the classroom.

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

The moment had finally arrived: the end of the school day.

Mana watched on pitifully as you packed your books away, Jimin standing patiently above you.

Perhaps it was a bit dramatic to feel so scared, but as far as you or Mana knew, this was the first time someone was (willingly) going over to the Kim’s house. And for something as simple as a school project, no less.

“Alright then...we’re off!” you told your best friend, swinging your bag over your shoulder and tugging them into a hug. 

“Good luck on your project! Hope you guys find what you’re looking for,” Mana said, squeezing your midsection painfully tight. “See you tomorrow morning.” They smiled at Jimin, who acknowledged them with a small grin.

You nodded, stepping out from behind the desk and followed Jimin out the classroom. 

As soon as he had one toe out the door, however, he was tackled by a blurry figure with neck length, curly, dark hair. Jimin, whose surprise quickly turned into glee, wrapped his arms around the figure. “Taehyungie!”

The sudden motion made you pause in the doorway, one breath away from knocking your head into Jimin’s back. 

“I missed you today! I hate the fact that Mr. Burham made you switch classes--we always stick together!” Kim Taehyung pressed his face into Jimin’s neck, but you managed to hear the words he spoke. Jimin chuckled.

“We live together, Taehyung ah, we’d see each other regardless!” 

Taehyung lifted his face from his brother’s neck, brittle brown eyes glancing up to meet yours. You felt intimidated by the loss of the sparkle they’d held, but raised a hand to smile and wave at him regardless. “Hi...”

“Oh, Tae! Let me introduce you two.” Jimin hauled his little brother off of him and pulled the two of you by the hand out the doorway so that other students could leave. “(Y/N), this is Taehyung, one of my younger brothers. Tae, this is (Y/N). Mrs. Hargrove assigned us a project on a mythological creature and she’s my partner, so she’ll be coming home with us today to start research.”

You stood against the wall, a polite smile on your face. Taehyung was staring at you with a deadpan expression on his face, assessing you. You didn’t know much about the qualifications of this test, but you assumed it was crucial that you passed it.

All too quickly, his face broke out into a large grin and he swept you into his arms. You grunted at the force with which he pressed you into his chest. “Nice to meet you, (Y/N)!” 

“Um, nice to meet you too...”

“Tae, you can’t just touch her without her permission!” Jimin pulled Taehyung off of you, smiling apologetically. You waved it off, gaping at both of them as they rehashed their day for the other.

The two brothers chatted happily, arms around each other’s shoulders as they ambled through the halls and out the front door of the school. Students sent you scandalized glances as you trailed behind them, but you were too busy updating your mother to pay attention. When you finally looked up, you saw Jimin and Taehyung leading you to a large, sleek, black van. 

Is this what getting abducted in broad daylight feels like?

 But you recognized this car. This was the Kim’s family car, driven by a hired professional to take their five children to school and back. You’d seen it many a times in the morning with your mother.

Students whispered as the three juniors approached the vehicle while you cautiously eyed the three figures that stood in front of it.

Kim Jungkook, the school’s most talented freshman. He’d already made high marks in all of the clubs he’d joined, with special attention to the music and sports club. He was so talented in boxing that the Kims, already large beneficiaries of the school, had given the director the money to start and finance the new boxing club. 

Kim Hoseok, the captain of the dance team with an academic prowess that was second to only one person in the whole school. He’d taken your school dance team to nationals and, although very kind to the general student body, it was not lost on everyone how exhausted the members of his team would be in competition season. No one in after school activities could forget the sound of him sounding out beats or barking orders through the halls during rehearsals.

And finally, Kim Namjoon. The president of the Association for the Student Body and resident academic genius. He’d held the top scores for every class he’d been in since freshman year. The school trophy case was jokingly nicknamed “Namjoon’s Bureau” after the amount of awards that had his name on them. 

Never would you have guessed that you would be meeting not one, but all five of the Kim siblings--on the same day, no less.

“Oh ho, Jiminie,” Hoseok teased as you approached, ruffling his little brother’s hair. “Who’s this?”

Be still, my beating heart--

“Hello! I’m (Y/N), a classmate of Jimin’s. It’s nice to meet you all.” You greeted them with a sharp, but quick bow.

“We were assigned a project to research a mythological creature.”Jimin clung to Namjoon by the arm while he and Jungkook were busy staring at you. “Namjoon hyung, would you help us find the books Dad once showed us in the library? The ones with all the lore and stories?” 

On the outside, this felt like a normal day of being introduced to an acquaintance’s family members. 

On the inside, however, you were reminded of the purple flames that stole Natalia’s existence from this mortal plane in mere seconds every time you looked one of the older Kim siblings in the eyes.

Jungkook merely looked curious, doe eyes wide in surprise. But Namjoon...

Even though they were adopted, Namjoon held the same crazed, righteous look in his eyes that Kim Moonsik would have whenever he announced the next tribute for Wylynne’s army.

“I’d be happy to find them for you guys,” Namjoon grinned at you.

You “smiled” back.

That was a grimace...that was a definitely a grimace. You seriously needed to work on your facial expressions around them.

Hoseok opened the car door, sliding into the very back with Jungkook and Taehyung while Jimin leapt for the window seat. This left you between him and his older brother, and you fought the urge to groan aloud.

Once inside the car, Namjoon alerted the driver that everyone was present and the man took off without another word. While he was distracted, you lowered your phone brightness and updated your mother again on your location.

“So, (Y/N), how was your day?” You jerk your head up and turn towards the voice, Hoseok questioning you while still wearing that ear-splitting grin. 

“It was alright! I met Jimin this morning and then we attended classes and lunch...” you said, fiddling with the power button on your phone. 

Hoseok and Taehyung continued to ask you a few more questions, like your favorite color and artists, about your classes and any future career plans. Jimin would cut in every so often with a statement or question of his own, and Jungkook and Namjoon simply watched on quietly as the conversation took place.

You leaned your head on the space between the headrests of the seats, tilting it to the right. You thought this morning’s fatigue had been chased away by the excitement of the day, but it was actually resting, lying in wait for the moment where you would put your guard down.

As much as you wanted to avoid it, the rumbling of the AC and comfort provided by the plush, leather seats caused the background noise in the car to fade before disappearing completely.

Jungkook seemed to be the only one to notice your breathing slow. “She’s asleep.”

Any and all conversation that had been taking place shut down immediately as they all gazed at your figure. 

At some point in your sleep, you started to shiver from the temperature of the AC. Jungkook quickly peeled off his school sweater and handed it to Jimin, who pouted slightly as he draped it over your form. 

They watched the slow rise and fall of your chest and listened to the soft breathing noises you let out in your sleep. The world outside was forgotten, and for a few, precious moments it was only you and them.

And if all went according to plan, soon it would be much, much longer than a few precious moments. Their world would only consist of you and them, all of them, for the rest of time.

#cult au #bts cult au #yandere bts x reader #yandere bts au #bts x reader #yandere bts #yandere jung hoseok #yandere kim taehyung #yandere kim namjoon #yandere kim seokjin #yandere park jimin #yandere min yoongi #Yandere jeon jungkook #x reader #religious au #high school au #college au #ot7 x reader #poly ot7

[ballad-of-birdy-lamb]

Btw my requests are open for Reaper Ash fics

Edit: this means send requests. I need content made for my man

#tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg #thg prequel #reaper ash x f reader #reaper ash headcanons #reaper ash x gender neutral reader #reaper ash x fem reader #reaper ash x me #reaper ash tbosas #requests are open

[dazzlingfantasiesblogs]

Hurricane P41

Happy x Reader.

Warnings/Triggers: 18+ Only. If under 18, kindely un-follow me please. 

Tags: @moodygrip @mywhitehatisbigger @camobighairnboots @trippinjenni @jenny885

Notes: Oh man.. heartfelt chapter. I wanted to scare you all and say it was the last chapter... I didn’t have the balls to do it.  (I am not ending it sweeties! Maybe I should.. but I cant just yet. I still have ideas!!! >_<)

Pics and gifs are not mine

Waking up the next day, your head was stinging. You stretched your arms and seen Happy was gone. You expected this seeing as Montana didn’t just call the mother charter out for no reason. After showering and throwing on some makeup you slid on your business outfit for the day. Kozik wanted you hear to de-stress but Jerry had mentioned to you he would like your help for their mechanics shop after Jax went on a rant of how there place was too busy not that you marketed it. Wearing a dark red shirt with a black pencil skirt and black high heels you walked down stairs. Researching coffee places on your phone as you did.

Seeing Trina and Sammy awake and chatting with smiles on their faces warmed your heart. “Morning ladies.” They seen you and stood up. You all hugged and said you normal hellos. “I am going to get some decent coffee. Care to come with?” “Naw, Jax and Chibs are taking us to breakfast after church.” “Oh la la! Well be safe.” You rummaged around in your laptop case taking out a handgun handing it to Sammy. “There is a reason Charming is here. Take it and be safe. If your nervous, give it to Jax or Chibs.” “We have shot a gun.” You smirked to your best friends remembering when Kozik and you took them to a gun range.

“Kozy baby lets go get some coffee.” The dog got off the couch, following close to you.  Walking out of the clubhouse you seen all the boys sitting outside talking. Instead of disturbing them you headed to your Jeep. “Y/N!” you looked back to see Happy walking up to you. “Whats up?” you turned around, facing him. He pressed you up against your jeep, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Assholes keep talking about last nights performance.. plus this business outfit.” He looked you up and down. You looked around Happy to see the boys stairing. “Lets give them something else to talk about..” you winked towards him. You turned him around shoving him against the Jeep. The smirk that spread across Happys face was one of sin. Your hand on his chest, your ass slightly poked out. You licked from his lips to neck, kissing it. He slapped your ass smiling at you. “I love when you get possessive.” He grinned. “Well hunny, now they see I want no one but you.”

“Where are you and Kozy going?” He seen the dog sitting next to you two in the shade from the jeep. “Going to get some good coffee. Can you join?” Happy nodded waiving to the boys. They nodded to him. You opened the door for Kozy. Walking around to the drivers side, Happy held the door open for you. You smelt something off in the jeep and recognized the smell. “Happy get Kozy out now!” Happy looked at your face of fear. Opening the back door he grabbed the dog as you slowly stepped away from the car. “What is it..?” “Gas…” you mumbled. Kneeling down you seen red blinking light. Undoing the tape you held it in your hand. “That’s a fucking trigger bomb.. if you would have started the car.” Happy couldn’t believe it. So that ment the wheel wasn’t an accident as well. “Jax!” Happy yelled out. Jax stood up and the boys following. You held on to the bomb, thinking on how close away from death you were. You heart beat fast, just thinking about it. Jax looked at the item in you hand.  “Y/N… what the..” he looked at it shocked as well. “Someone is trying to kill me..” you mumbled. “Go inside.. I need a moment..” you spoke out to Happy and the boys. “Juice, Opie.. take this apart and see what the hell and who the hell made this..” Opie and Juice nodded to Jax grabbing it from your hands. The boys started to walk away, Happy walking a bit ahead of you. You opened the door to your jeep smelling a hint of something sweet. Something you couldn’t put your finger on. Grabbing your purse and laptop bag and anything else valuable you shut the door. When you did you hurd a fast beeping sound “Run!” you screamed out. Without thinking, the boys did as told. You sprinted, your heels being left behind. Soon you felt heat shower your back and gravity throw you to the ground.

“Y/N!” Happy yelled, making Kozy stay. He looked to see your body sprawled out on the dirt road not moving. The clouds of black smoke and fire behind you caused his heart to stop. He ran towards you, trying to grab you. He managed to lift you up and seen the blood drip on the dirt. Your blood mixing with the sand below. He rushed you into the club house laying you on the reaper table. “Call an ambulance! Now!” Happy yelled at the top of his lungs. His hands gently on your face trying to wake you up. This was the same thing that had happened to Chibs long ago. Who the hell wanted you dead? Kozik ran into the room seeing his sister covered in dirt and ash from the Jeep. “Y/N!?” He yelled pushing Happy out of the way. “Sis.. please..oh no no..” he grabbed your hand, moving your hair out of your face. He noticed the stiches reopened on your forehead. “Ambulance will be here in three minutes..” Jerry ran in telling Happy.

Sammy and Trina walked in seeing your lifeless body on the table. “What…” they ran over to you, both of them starting to cry. They couldn’t remember a time when you so banged up. They held onto your arm, both of them shaking at the sight of you. The ambulance came in, everyone moved out of the way. “Name.” Was all an EMT said. “Y/F/N, Y/L/N” Happy spoke roughly to him. His eyes never leaving you. “Birthdate.” “Y/BDay.” Happy and Kozik followed behind the EMT. After all getting in the ambulance, they drove you to the hospital.

“Y/Age Female, Last name is Y/L/N. Head injury from previous car accident and car bomb that went of today.” A nurse spoke to the doctor that wheeled you into an emergency care room. He grabbed scissors and cut up your dress and seen some small bruises starting to form where you hit rocks on the dirt. He carefully looked at the back of your head and seen the huge cut. Making quick work he had it cleaned and bandaged in under and hour. Fixing the one on your forehead as well.

Ordering an MRI he seen that your brain functions where normal. You where breathing on your own and you legs still moved slightly. HE sighed a bit walking into the hall to go talk to your makeshift family.

“Y/L/N.” Happy, Kozik, Trina and Sammy stood up. Kozy tagging along behind them. He brought everyone to a waiting room to sit down. “Good news, her body is still functioning, she is able to move her limbs and arms. She lost quite a bit of blood and from the previous concussion it looks like she might have aswell. Two blows to the head in two days is a tremendous amount of pressure to put on the head and brain. The bad news is.. she is in Acoma. We tried waking her up but no luck. We will keep monitoring everything an making sure she is stable. For now she will rest. You are all welcome to go and see her.” The doctor got up and left after shaking everyone’s hand. Happy slid his face into his hands. Why? Why when he finally got your back did things have to hit the ceiling. Why couldn’t he just be happy with you.. His chest rumbled as tears slid down his face. He couldn’t hold it n anymore. Trina and Sammy seen this and went on either side of him, hugging him tightly. No matter what wrong he did, in their eyes Happy was still family.  Kozik kneeled infront of him, tears in his own eyes. “She is going to kick this in the ass like she kicks everything else Happy.. you know this..” as he spoke he tried so hard to hold back the tears.

“Happy, Yona, dinner!” you yelled from the kitchen. Kozy jogged in sitting on the kitchen floor since it was cold. Your daughter ran in and gave you a side hug. Her facial structure was strong like her fathers, her hair your color and his dark eyes. She was stunning. “Mom, can I go to the dance with Trevor..?” She asked randomly. “No. No you cannot. Remind me to remind your uncles to be on high alert for that fucking punk.” Happy growled as he sat on the chair. You went to grab the food from the stove and he seen it was heavy. He stood up again to carry it to the table. He slid his hand over your small baby bump as he set it down. “Mom.. he is being irrational..” your daughter pouted to you. “Honey… your in 8th grade.. I don’t know..” you eyed Happy to give some leeway into the situation. “Please mom, dad just think about it. I grew up with him.. he is a great friend!” Happy tsked at that. “Better him then some kid we don’t know Happy. After all Trevor is your “nephew”.. I am sure Kozik would be elated to have his son with her.” Happy sighed and simply nodded his head. “Thanks for cooking hunny, you should not be cooking and working all the time. You gotta be careful for.. the baby.” Happy said with a concerned look. You smiled at your over protective old man. “I will be sweety.” “I agree with dad, mom. I want my baby brother to be safe.” You beamed at your daughter for how sweet she was. “How have you been feeling mom..? Hurd you vomiting this morning..” you sighed a bit. “With you I had no morning sickness. None. With this little guy.. well..” you shrugged.

After dinner your daughter and Happy cleaned the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. They had a soap fight in the kitchen for about twenty minutes till Happy called quits. You daughter calling him a chicken. You got up to walk to your bedroom and changed out of your business clothes. Looking in the mirror you frowned a bit at your body. You knew you had a kid on the way, but you were worried about your kids being so far apart in age. Happy walked in seeing the look on your face as you looked in the mirror. He came behind you setting his chin on your shoulder. “Why the frown?” He rasped out. “Because… What… What… if… I don’t know.. the kids being so far apart in age is a bad thing.. should we have had another..” your worries where evident in your eyes. “Baby.. look at me. Yes we should have this baby. I was so thrilled when you told me the news. Just means Yona can go ahead and make sure her brother is safe aswell.” “We are getting old Hap..” “Oh hush.. we are not. Your as beautiful as the day I met you hurricane..” you smiled at that. “I didn’t say anything about my appearance.” “You had the look on your face my love.” He spoke kissing your nose. He slid his hands over the small bump. Running his hands over your tummy. He pressed a kiss to your neck as you leaned back into him. “Hap.. don’t start what you cant finish..” you moaned out. “Oh my love.. I can do more than finish it..” Smirking he picked you up laying your on the bed. “Don’t worry, I locked the door.” He winked.

The next morning your head was in the toilet for a good hour. Your daughter rushing in, helping you hold your hair back. After you didn’t puke for a few minutes you assumed you where done. Your daughter helped you up as you sighed. “Sorry to put this all on you..” “Mom shush.” She smiled. “I am so excited to meet my brother!!” you where surprised by this. You always thought having a single kid was going to be spoiled and bratty to the other. However your daughter showed nothing but excitement. Rarely did she ask for anything, always asking how she could help around the house to earn extra cash.

Hearing a knock at the door, you brushed your teeth and slid a robe over your body. Yona followed behind you as you opened the door. “UNCLE LORENZO!” Yona yelled jumping into her uncles arms. “Hello sweet pea!” He kissed the top of her head. Setting her down he walked over to you, hugging you tightly. “Where is the old man?” “Clubhouse working.” You smiled seeing your best friend here. “What are you doing out here?” you asked confused. “Well, Happy texted me you where pregnant. So here I am and they are!” you looked at they confused. You seen a couple guys walk in with presents. “They are just helping me carry things in.” He smirked to you. “Happy texted you.. that is weird..” “Yeah, I think it was more of a FUCK YOU then anything, even after all those years. But, I love Yona like she was mine and I will love this one too!” He smiled to you. “Hell I even love Happy for making you so.. well Happy.” Lorenzo chuckled at his own joke.

Getting dressed you all headed to the clubhouse. Your stomach still stirring from this morning. Gemma was the first to greet you all. She seen your face very pale. “You need to..” you nodded quickly. She grabbed a waste bucket from the TM garage as you vomited more. She rubbed your back seeing your body continually throw up. Lorenzo and Yona walking to the club house. “Dad!” Yona ran up to her father like she rarely seen him. “Hey princess. Where is your mom?” He nodded to Lorenzo. “Vomiting in the office with Grandma Gemma.” Happy kissed her head and headed towards the office. HE seen your head buried in the trashcan and Gemma rubbing your back. “Oh shit.. babe..” He walked over. You lifted your head slightly to see Happy. “Hey B..” you vomited again in the basket. “Happy, she needs something in her stomach. She is just vomiting bile at this point.” “Right!” He nodded frantic. “What do you want to eat baby?” “Mac and cheese…. Fettucine alfrado.. chicken fingers with chocolate icecream…” you kept rambling. He looked at Gemma confused. “I got it on speed dial..” Happy looked back to see Kozik walking in, overhearing the convo. “She asked me to pick up the same order a few days ago when  you worked late for me. Yona!” Kozik called out. Yona came up hugging her uncle tightly. “What do you want to eat?” “Ohh!!! Mac and Cheese and a burger!!” She said with a huge smile. “I got the payment.. so good to see you all. Kozik go ahead and put a huge order in.” Kozik looked behind him to see Lorenzo. He hugged him tightly” “Fucking good to see my brother!” Kozik smiled at him. “No kidding!” Lorenzo smiled back. “Can everyone but my old man, daughter and Gemma get THE FUCK OUT WHILE I PUKE!” you yelled at the top of your lungs. Kozik and Lorenzo chuckled walking out. “Damn her hormones..” “Please was she any different not pregnant?” Kozik retorted.

The baby was three weeks early. However he was perfectly fine. You laid in the hospital bed, Happy laying next to you as you held your son in your arms. Yona was staying with her Auntie Sammy and Uncle Jax and cousin Abel. “Marry me..” Happy whispered to you. You looked at him as he waited for answer. So many times he had asked you in elaborate ways, you always said ‘No.’. Because you two had been so up and down till Yona came around. Then time flew. Even then he asked every year and you said not yet. You smiled gently to him “Yes.” Was all you said. His eyes widened expecting you to say no. He pressed a kiss to your lips. “Why now?” “Because, it was calm and I am ready. You never left me and Yonas side, you never hurt me in the years she has been alive. You’re an amazing father… Yes Happy. I always knew I wanted to be with you for the rest of my life.. I just never knew when I would say yes.” Happy grabbed the little black box in his pocket. He carried it with him at all times and had for years. He slid the ring on your finger kissing you once again.

“I still don’t fucking like him..” Happy looked at Trevor as him and your daughter where getting married. “IT is Koziks kid.. I know we all thought he would be family, but those two have been in love since they met. Kozik is thrilled and so is Lily and I . At least we know everything about him. He knows how to protect her and has. He pushed her to finish college and everything.” Happy grumbled. Small tears welling in his eyes. “But she is my baby girl..” “Oh killer..” you hugged your husband. He was defiantly one to get emotional when it came to your children. Your son smiled to you two as he stood at the alter on Trevors side. He was eighteen now and out of the house. Headed to study business like his mother. Yona often taking after her father with the hard exterior and biker mentality. It was funny to see them two grow up. “Wow… who knew this would happen..” Sammy smiled at you, sitting close. “No kidding..” you held your best friends hand, watching your daughter slide the ringer on Trevors hand. Trina crying next to Sammy. Chibs rubbing her back. “How time flies…” Happy looked at you. “Your still the most beautiful woman Hurricane..” He gently kissed your lips before Trevor and your daughter had their first kiss as husband and wife.

“I miss you mom and dad…” Yona sniffled as she looked at your tombstones. Trevor on one side and her brother on the other. “Its amazing how you really can die from a broken heart..” you brother sighed looking at Yona. “Yeah, the doctor said with in hours..” Trevor said after. It had been the year anniversaries of your deaths. Yona and her brother kissing the top of the tombstones before walking away.

#happy lowman #kozik #jax #happy #herman kozik #Jax Teller #gemma #gemma teller #chibs #chibs telford #soa #soa imagine #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine