#smile & he only regrets it enough to say ''I'm sorry but too bad'' AND HARDLY ANYONE SHIT ON HIM?? I actually enjoy his character I'm not | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shiro-hoshishima · 1 year

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"You promised the world and I fell for it" - Akito Shinonome

★彡[ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ]彡★ #hadnomotivation I will try my best to make more stuff. But haha school is drowning me. I love Akito. I do but I love angst as well. Akito x reader turned Toya x reader. Feel free to request. This is a long one because- I miss writing

★彡[ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ]彡★ Angst, break up, implied toxic relationship, ED, depression, cheating, Slight ooc Akito, Akito feels regret. Term "partner" used

★彡[ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]彡★ They/them pronouns are used, You are a singer. any mlm, wlm or nblm sexualities can be implied.

★彡[ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛʟʏ ʟɪꜱᴛᴇɴɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ:]彡 ★ Lose you to love me. By: Selena Gomez

★彡[ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ]彡 ★

Akito looks at me.

"I will promise you the world, please. Go out with me. I love you very much" His face was flushed with pink as he tries not to seem too needy. His head was held low as if he refused to look at me face to face.

I was thinking a little bit, I mean yeah I liked him, but I can't jump into this blindly. After a little while, I agreed. it was such a shock to him, that when I agreed. Akito, hugged me.

Of course, this main story happens well into the future.

I had invited Akito to be a featured artist in my concert. We made a duet version of my song together. While performing, he has been off key during the chorus, which then caused less of a crowd reaction, this wasn't the standard I normally had. I felt humiliated.

After the show the other members of his squad were lightly criticising him for making the squad look a little bad. An then walks up to me "hey, I'm very sorry for your little boyfriend's actions, you performances were as amazing as always" She smiles at me.

"thank you, I appreciate it" I smile in return.

"hey, Darling, you did well, sorry. I didn't warm up properly" Akito apologised to me.

"It's fine, don't worry about it. You must have been busy" I loved having him around me. I dismiss it.

I love him-

I don't know how it cam to this. I love him, I truly but, I started to hate myself, I thought I did. But every time I see myself in the mirror. I hated what I saw, I was never enough for him. He's only said "I love you" to me and that was when he confessed his feelings.

This was not healthy.

A few days later I wasn't in the right mood set, I had been missing school and been sleeping all day, Hardly eating (even when I did, I felt like hurling it all up again). An, Kohane and Toya have all asked if I was okay. Akito didn't I thought he would be worried the most. This is when I had the thoughts of breaking up with him. I barely had the energy to think properly, or even go into the bathroom. I'm always so tired and cold.

I see the phone ringing, I open look at the screen to see An calling, I pick up the phone and press answer. "Oh my gosh, you're alive. I have bad news, like real bad news"

I have no idea what she was talking about.

"What do you mean??" My voice was quite hushed. as if you haven't talked in days.

"You know your little boyfriend?"

"...yeah?"

"Toya caught him cheating"

My eyes widen. I couldn't believe it. I can't really think of what to say. Be mad or sad?

"I'm so sorry. Akito is getting a stern talking to by Toya as we speak. I knew something was up. Want to talk about it?"

I stopped the call.

{ An's Point of view }

I see the ended call message appears on my screen. I really hope they're okay. I look over to see Toya, he looks quite pissed which ss new for me. He doesn't really strike me as someone who expresses his emotions quite enough.

"If this gets out, our group is in jeopardy" Toya says quite sternly.

"not if they break up with me"

"You should have broken up with them. You are hurting them"

"so? I enjoy it, there I said it. I've always enjoyed it when they got upset."

"You're vile to like that kind of thing, when it's concerning them. What did they do to you?"

"Nothing, they did nothing wrong"

"you sicken me"

"if you don't like it that much, why don't you date them?" Akito grew defensive, I'm sort of glad that Kohane was not here. She would have been panicking.

"Akito, That is not right for you to do those things, you should have broken up with them or stayed with them and be loyal. You are the one who asked them out first" I intervene, Serious things aren't my strong suit.

"It was a dare by Tsukasa, I never wanted to date them, So I was stuck. I never had the heart to hurt them that way. then all my fun will be over"

I walk to Akito and slapped him

"They did not deserve for you to give them depression, that is why they are out of school for the moment and not singing"

"they are not depressed"

Toya clinched his fists, only very slightly.

"Did you not notice? Your partner has slowly stopped eating."

"that was because I told them they should go on a diet"

"They were already underweight to begin with"

"how was I supposed to know?"

"you know what? Forget it"

Toya then walks away.

I was quite upset, Y/n was such a nice person and Akito ruined them. it was not fair on them. I walk away as well, heading to the weekend garage.

{Y/n's pov}

I opened my phone to send a text.

[Akito... I know what you did. I just want you to know, Are you happier now? Was I not making you happy? I know I wasn't so I will let you go so you can finally have that happiness you didn't with me]

I pressed send and blocked his number.

soon after I sent the text, My mom opened the door and peeked her head inside.

"Hey, hunny, are you okay?"

She sounded concerned.

"yeah... I'm fine"

"well, a friend of yours has come over to check on you. I think His name was Aoyagi, I believe, want me to let him in or tell him you're alright and send him on his way?"

"Toya?... Please let him in. I think I need the interaction"

My mom smiles at me and walks downstairs.

After a while I hear a soft knock on the door.

"pardon the intrusion"

I hear Toya's voice as he slowly enters my room, I wasn't looking my best. My hair's a mess and oily, Eyes puffy and red with dark circles underneath and Cheeks hollow.

"You don't look great, are you alright?"

Toya walks towards me.

"may I sit on your bed"

he asks, all I do is nod. Toya takes a seat on the food of my bed, looking at me with concerning eyes.

"I know you aren't okay. Please listen to what I'm about to say. Your worth isn't based on your partner, it's based on you, you should never let someone down like that. I will be helping you heal when you need me. I have liked you romantically for a long time but Akito got to you first. However, I will wait for you"

Toya Takes my hand and kisses is slightly.

My cheeks flustered.

Here is when I had the realisation that I needed to hate Akito to love myself and Toya will progressively take care and love me.

❣┈⋆┈⋆┈ ⋞ 〈ＦｉｎａｌＮｏｔｅｓ〉 ⋟ ┈⋆┈⋆┈❣

I hope you enjoyed,

my requests are open, just make sure to read the rules and my all mighty masterlist is still in the works <3

bye bye

-Shiro <3

#ˢʰᶦʳᵒ⁻ᴴᵒˢʰᶦˢʰᶦᵐᵃ #prsk akito #prsk vivid bad squad #prsk toya #project sekai #project sekai akito #project sekai toya #project sekai x reader #akito shinonome #toya aoyagi #vivid bad squad #akito x reader #toya x reader

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pat-the-togorian · 1 year

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Pat's Febu-Whump Day 6: Secrets Revealed

CW: Panic Attack

“You can talk to us, Pat,” Aheka assured, “Whenever you need. We’re here for you.”

Sinvulkt and Rema nodded, also facing Pat from across a table in the empty cantina.

“Is—is now alright?” Pat asked in a small, hopeful voice.

“Of course!” the others agreed.

“Well,” he took a deep breath. “I was the ‘runt of my litter,’ apparently. And Togorians don’t look kindly upon weak males. I don’t really have that much of a memory of the earliest times, but I can only imagine that they were unhappy with my lack of growth.”

He paused for a deep breath.

“I do remember when I was kicked out of my home, though. My father placed me out in front of our house and started to beat me, h-harder and harder, until I ran.”

Aheka and Sinvulkt did their best to keep listening supportively without showing too much dismay or anger, the latter not succeeding. Rema appeared frozen, her mouth quivering as if she wanted so badly to say something.

Shakily, she struggled to stand. Her chest heaved impossibly far with gigantic, rapid breaths. Pat sprung to attention, although he wasn’t sure what to do, as Aheka and Sinvulkt quickly pushed any loose objects on the table away from her and grabbed her twisting, struggling arms.

“No! Let me go! No more! Please!” Rema screamed.

“S-shouldn’t we not touch her?” Pat asked nervously.

“We need to stop her from hurting herself!” Aheka barked.

Bracing himself, Pat reached out to grab her from behind, but Rema gave an almighty twist and struck him right in the nose. Pat quickly grabbed her hand before she could pull back, but didn’t grip hard enough as she tore away from him with vastly expanded strength and slammed her fist straight into his temple. Tipsy from the hit, Pat stumbled back against the wall, his own memory of his worst beating flooding back to him. But he still stood up and finally helped Sinvulkt and Aheka soothe Rema as she collapsed back in her seat, tears and sweat drenching her face and clothes.

As he rubbed his injured nose, he still felt nothing but compassion and sadness for Rema. While he didn’t know what had happened to her, it was clear she had been through a lot. Enough to traumatize her much more than his own life traumatized him… I shouldn’t have spoken up, she needs their support way more than I do…

Rema kept her eyes off of everyone as she shakily ran to her room.

Fighting the urge to cradle the side of his head, Pat stood up straight and asked Sinvulkt and Aheka, “W-what just happened?”

“It’s best that she tell you herself, Padawan,” Sinvulkt spoke seriously yet compassionately.

“Do you think she will? She hardly even knows me.”

“She found me after I witnessed it the first time,” Sinvulkt reassured.

Rema found Pat, as usual, reading a scroll in the dimly-lit common room later that night. Sinvulkt and Aheka had long since gone to sleep, leaving the two of them to burn the midnight oil in silence most nights.

“Pat?” Rema asked hesitantly. She noticed the fresh bandage around his forearm, not to mention his swollen nose and temple, and cringed in regret.

“Are you alright?” Pat sprung up, ready for anything. Rema hung her head.

“I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am for lashing out earlier. None of that was your fault, okay? I was not myself...”

Pat nodded graciously. “It’s okay! I asked Aheka and Sinvulkt about it, but they told me I should hear it straight from you sometime.”

Rema looked up at him before looking back at her little scroll. "I guess I do owe you an explanation. It's really hard to say anything…. Because most of my memories are a blur. I don't remember anything…" she admitted, "But sometimes… haunting memories appear and I do things I shouldn't…"

She sighed. "I just don't know what to do… Aheka said it's alright. But I'm worried I might do something really bad someday… "

"I’ll do everything I can to help you," Pat vowed in an instant, smiling calmingly.

"Thanks… that means a lot." She smiled back.

“So anyway, did you want to finish yours?”

“What?”

“Your story! I feel bad for interrupting you.”

“Oh!” He paused, unsure of how best to phrase it. “Well, after I left home, I fell in with… the wrong kinds of people, let’s say. My gang thought with my relatively small size I’d be good at stealing, or something. And one night, the night before I was found and brought here…” he paused, not wanting to say anything else that would panic Rema.

Rema nodded at him expectantly.

“It was the worst beating of my life,” he finished simply. She didn’t probe for any more details.

“So now you know!” Pat tried to sound as cheerful as he could.

“I do have one question, though,” said Rema, softly.

“Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you go into the woods and survive there? You’re great at teaching the Clones to do that, and you wouldn’t have had to live with your parents or your gang!”

“Well,” Pat paused. “I guess… I always knew I wanted a family. And whatever pain that may bring is worth it in the end.”

A/N: Huge thanks to @ct2002-rema for the character consult, and for Rema's lines in the apology scene!

@febuwhump

@formeralleycat

#taaoej #the amazing adventures of excentrics jedi #febuwhump2023 #febuwhumpday6 #febuwhump #whump writing #star wars fanfiction #star wars oc #panic attack

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bemylord · 3 years

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ꜱ/ᴏ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴄʟɪɴɢʏ │ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪᴇꜱ

↳ characters: satoru, itadori, megumi, toji, nanamin, sukuna.

↳ warnings: it's fluff part, so there's no angst or hurtful things [some parts might be spicy].

↳ butler's remark: finally have dropped the last part of this angst theme.i don't know what kind of dr#gs i used when i was writing the last three.

↳ part one;

ɪᴛᴀᴅᴏʀɪ ʏᴜᴜᴊɪ:

he'd be very sad and angry at himself for screamed at you. he didn't mean to push you away because of his fatigue. as he recalled the phrase you dropped before leaving: 'i'm gonna cuddle with megumi-kun' this phrase goes on and on in his head as he runs into your room. he knocked first, hoping you're alone. he knocked again, but there's no response.

'my baby, i'm so-so-so sorry, baby.' he just jump to the bed, wrapping arms around your waist, pulling you closer to his body. 'no, don't cry because of me, i'm the worst boyfriend ever.' he kisses the top of your head.

yuuji will cry with you if you'd continue to sob your nose, burying your face as deep as it's possible in itadori's chest, unable to deny his necessity. he's comforting you in his arms, whispering praising phrases about you.

'i was a fool, y/n, please forgive me.'

'promise me you'll never scream at me like that.'

instead of words, but kissed your lips, nodded his head. yuuji will show his love and affection by kisses and hugs, holding you tight to keep you from running away.

'y/n, i love you.'

ꜰᴜꜱʜɪɢᴜʀᴏ ᴍᴇɢᴜᴍɪ:

you've decided not to leave but stay home, waiting as long as his malice calm down. you were waiting for him in the bedroom, still grieved by the last words. you know megumi wasn't serious - he hates being beaten up by todo or satoru, you also know that he'll be a puppy right after a bath.

he showed up in the room in the home shorts, aimlessly rubbing the back of the neck, breathing out what caught your attention.

'i shouldn't have let the anger gets the best of me, y/n.'

bruises and abrasions are coaxed on his upper body and face as it brings the pain when he sits on the bed. he again rubs the skin, nervous to ask you to heal him.

'i-i would like..'

'i'll heal you, 'gumi.'

he smiles, seeing you tenderly how you treat wounds. he thought you were going to kill him after the acuteness, but here you are, helping your lover.

'i don't deserve you y/n, you always have been so kind to me. i'm sorry for being a moron, my angel, i didn't mean it.'

you took him of guard by a quick, yet lovely kiss on the lips.

'i will make it up to you, i will change.'

ꜰᴜꜱʜɪɢᴜʀᴏ ᴛᴏᴊɪ:

you may think it'll take days or weeks for him to the realization of what did he do. you were a naive one by leaving the gold wedding ring on the table, thought he won't notice.

'i am not a servant or errand girl, i'm his wife!'

perhaps, you thought he won't sniff as you're leaving the house, silly. he has a perfect hearing to hear where you're going and what you left.

'what a jerk i fell in love for, had the misfortune to marry that...'

'to marry that?'

he finished your sentences, turning your body by your arm.

'need a woman to meet your needs, toji? i've had enough.'

his strong arm didn't let you a chance to leave the place you stand, only pulling you by the chin to look into the loving eyes.

'fool, you're my woman, my wife, and the mother of my future children.'

'regret?' he gasped into your lips before kissing them, nibbling lightly on your lower lip.

'i'll do anything to make you forgive me. should i ea-?'

'home, toji, home!'

'by the way, if you ever take the ring off, ohh. doll~'

ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ ɢᴏᴊᴏᴜ: [i think i was h1gh, no hate on me after]

i heard about the woman that have called her boyfriend about thosand or more times, so.. it's satoru. satoru has been calling you since you've left the house, maybe, you'd pick up the phone if you weren't be fury at your boyfriend.

you were walking in the park where gojo first confessed his love. your first kiss and something more than a kiss. that place you will always remember is the tallest and oldest tree in the park. noticeable and stately. as you came to the tree you heard someone behind you.

'you knew it's my place, y/n!' what? is that a touchy voice?

'whatever i'm leaving.'

'where do ya goinnng~~'

'home.'

'fine, i'm walking home too. take you home?'

'we live in the same house.'

'that's better! wanna watch netflix and chill?'

i'd say you're mad at him, but i'll lie. he's so funny and cute, how can you resist?

'don't act like a clingy, gojo.'

'you began first. ok-ok, i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry.'

you had to gag him with a kiss because he would have continued talking nonsense. acting like a child. he lifted you by the waist, kissing you and whispering sweet phrases.

'i love when you're clingy, my baby, i was- i feel so bad due to the work, my angel. soon we'll be going on the mission.'

he lowered you to the ground, kissing you on the tip of your nose.

'let's pick some flowers and make a wreath, shall we?'

'we'll get arrested.'

'you can run, y/n.'

ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ ᴋᴇɴᴛᴏ:

you were taking a bath on your own, drowning in the tears - as you've mentioned you're overly clingy and vulnerable and nanami had had known this. he knew you could be sticky when you haven't seen him in a few hours - but does it badly? he knocked twice on the door, waiting for your response.

'darling, mm-' he hesitated as if you'll reject him. 'may i come in?' you only made a quiet mumbling sound, but it was enough for him to enter the bathtub.

he took off his suit, joining you. no matter how much you try, he will see your weeping eyes.

'i shouldn't have yelled at you over a hard day. darling, come to me, tell me how your day went.'

'not before you tell me about yours.'

you sat on his lap, massaging his sturdy, tired shoulders, helping him relax.

'taking a bath like that with you after a day's work is what i like best.'

he kisses your lips as your palms still find themselves on his shoulders. anyway, nanami doesn't want his future wife to cry over him - he'll be the best husband.

ʀʏᴏᴍᴇɴ ꜱᴜᴋᴜɴᴀ:

it has been weeks since you didn't interact with the king: neither you didn't come to his domain nor answer on his questions. when his sudden mouth appeared on yuuji's cheek, asking you to immediately come to his domain, you didn't feel the need to respond sukuna, irritating him.

you were waiting 'till the king will utterly be pissed off by your behavior, taking the possession of the vessel body to finally have a conversation with you.

'y/n, do something! sukuna has been so furious that i can hardly restrain him.'

'the king wants to see the stupid girl?' you crossed arms over the chest, letting out a sigh of relief - finally. 'i'm coming, sukuna.' you touches yuuji's chest to find yourself being instantly on sukuna's lap.

'you've been ignoring me for weeks, woman.'

'i wonder why? because i'm stupid and clingy?'

sukuna pulled the loose strands of hair out of your face carefully, so as not to hurt you with a claw. he cups your cheeks, making you stare directly at him in the eyes.

'i won't say it twice, so hear me out.' he kissed your lips with fondness, which was not characteristic of him. 'i'm sorry, okay?'

from now on, you can show off that the king of curses said sorry to you. be proud of yourself, 'till his eyes are cast dark hue, palms found themselves on your hips.

'i've been alone for days and days, y/n,' you could feel something raising underneath you. 'and why through all bastards you've chosen satoru?'

someone is jealous..

however, i have a feeling that there will be some sort of sequel...

tag my cuties <3

@monisi @herhappyplace @h3artfiilia @din0plushie @giaduuh @schleepyflocci @creammy0 @rmjace @whogonprayformee @wwholesome-vibes @blacckkwiddow @sivaneeee @deepcowboywerewolf @royaltyofwinterfell @bakugo1819 @electroniclightjudgeghost @alexganes @tonks221 @spn-obession @superbheropeachtrash @strwbrry-lia @sterieshinso @daynada @butyfigers @lonely-dreamer @adorenoya @fluffymarshmellowcat @cloudsinthecosmos @itsonyxpected @itspastellemons @kingdomblvck @lovliecs @doodledee-png @neo-lucien @fl4mepillar @musichime07

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raggaraddy · 3 years

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Mouthy

Prompt: You say to Yandere BTS "Oh my god! Just shut up!"

A/N: Couldn't sleep, so I wrote this laying in bed. I hope it's not some sleep-deprived nonsense ^-^

Trigger warning: Yandere themes, violence, emotional manipulation, choking, non-con, D/s themes, examples of a bad D/s dynamic.

Alpha! Namjoon

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You scream it through your bedroom doorway. Storming to the railing of the stairs, you lean over and scream again. "Shut up!"

The sea of people on the ground floor go quiet. Only the music dares to keep making a sound in the background. You skulk back to your room, slamming the door loudly behind you. You had had a long, disappointing day. You were tired and grumpy, and moody and sad. But the dozens of uninvited pack members couldn't care less as their party raged on into the night.

Not allowing you enough time to even climb back into bed, Namjoon storms after you to address your outburst.

"Y/n, go downstairs right now and apologize." He orders.

"No." you mope. Feeling it's a wildly unfair request. All these people are in your house making so much noise when you're trying to sleep. How is it you that's in the wrong?

"Do you think I am asking you? I'm telling you. Get downstairs now." He says sternly. His strict tone making you even more emotional. You just wanted him to be on your side for this.

"But- But I," you sniffle, with tears in your eyes.

"No," Namjoon cuts you off. "I've asked you all afternoon what's wrong. And you wouldn't tell me. So right at this moment, I don't want to hear it. You have been disrespectful to me and my people. So you are going to put some more clothes on and cover-up, and you will go out there and apologize to every single person." He growls, leaving no room to argue. "And you will do it sincerely, or I will give you something to cry about."

King! Seokjin

You didn't say it to his face. You would never be that stupid. But still, you clearly weren't smart enough. While gossiping to a friend, someone you thought was a confidant, you're complaining about a seemingly endless, boring meeting you had to serve today.

"And I just wanted to tell all of them; Oh my god! Just shut up!" You laugh.

But hours later it's no longer a laughing matter.

"How did you enjoy serving me today, Princess?" Jin asks his tone giving nothing away of what he already knows.

"I enjoyed it. Thank you, your Majesty" You politely smile, thinking his question to be a kindness.

"I often find these meetings so dull. Many of the Lords do like to ramble on. Sometimes I would enjoy telling all of them to just shut up." He speaks the words so purposefully that you know at once you've been exposed.

"My Lord, I-"

"If you are smart you will not say another word." He speaks softly, with a grin on his face. "I want to thank you, Y/n. I have an endless supply of other people I can hurt. Each one of them is freely at my disposal, but you are my favourite toy." He fills the space in front of you. "However, I am a man of my word. I swore to you that you will be unharmed if you are obedient, and I would not dare to break this vow. Of course, I have sorely missed playing with my beloved little dol, though."

Towering over you he sets off your instinct to get to your knees and grovel, begging his forgiveness for your carelessness. But that would only be a wasted effort.

"So thank you, Princess, for giving me the possibility to hear your pretty cries of pain again. I will make sure to use this opportunity to its fullest."

Assassin! Yoongi

He had been in a hyper mood for 2 days straight. His energy and enthusiastic interaction was something you always craved, but you had never dealt with it this long before and you were losing your sanity and your composure.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You shout at him as your last nerve snaps.

"Okay, Y/n." He gives little to no reaction. "Remember you said this in a month from now when you're begging me to speak to you."

But it didn't take a month. In two weeks you were in tears apologizing. He left you free to roam the house, but he revoked all communication from you. The only times he gave you any attention, was when he forcibly made you stop doing something he didn't like. Or when he wanted you for sex. But still, he wouldn't utter a single word, only bending you over to take what he wanted.

After 5 weeks, just as you thought you'd never hear his voice again, he finally broke his silence. Only to break your heart.

"Listening to you these past few weeks, I realise how much you talk. It's time you take your own advice and shut up. Y/n, I don't want to hear a sound out of you until I say. 5 weeks was easy enough for me. So let's start with that, and then I'll see if I want to hear from you yet."

Vampire! Hoseok

Hoseok was always so animated. Normally it didn't bother you, but he was talking and reacting through yet another movie and you were sick of it. It might have been because you were PMSing or maybe because Hoseok had forgotten to feed you all day, but when he yelled at the TV, you yelled at him.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" And right away you were teeming with regret.

"I'm sorry baby. Am I being too loud?" He laughs with an unexpectedly harmless reply. Playfully but roughly slapping his hand on your thigh. "I'll keep it down."

You're not dumb enough to think that your eruption would go unanswered. So you sit tensely, anxiously waiting to see how he will repay you.

"Baby," he whispers in your ear, after sitting in silence for 20 minutes. "You know I have very strong hearing right?" You nod nervously. Chewing your lip. "Well, your breathing is too loud and very distracting. I can hardly hear the movie. Can you please fix that?"

You know this is going to lead to something horrible, but you have no choice but to do as he says. For the next 10 minutes, you're completely distracted trying to inhale and exhale as softly and shallowly as possible.

"Hmm baby, it's really too much. I can't concentrate on the film." He stands, pulling his belt off. "Here let me help you."

He wraps his belt around your neck, pulling and setting it so tight that it's biting into your skin. Your throat constricting, barely letting you breathe.

As you wheeze and splutter and cough, he holds the end like a leash. Sitting back on the couch, he turns his focus back to the movie without letting you loosen the strap or get away. Your whole body is shaking, your eyes starting to roll back as you struggle to inhale. The belt is cruelly not tight enough to have you pass out though. Only allowing you to sit in your suffering. The sound of your gasping filling the room.

"Ahh, there you go baby. That's much better. Don't worry, it's just while we're watching movies. And there's only two more left in the trilogy."

Playboy! Jimin

He was telling you over and over how sorry he was. How he didn't mean to kiss that girl. That he was drinking. And that she kissed him. It was every excuse and lie he had spouted 100 times before.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You yelled at him. And for a moment it worked. He sat in stunned silence. But as you got off the bed to leave, taking your car keys with you, he chased after you.

"Where are you going?"

"Out Jimin. I need some time alone to think." You scowl.

But he refuses, blocking the door. Holding his arms to either side to barricade you in.

"No, you can't leave! I said I'm sorry."

"Fuck off Jimin, your apologies mean nothing." You say shoving him.

He doesn't accept that. With a roar, he grabs your shoulders throwing you down onto the bed. Quickly straddling you, using far too much force to keep you pinned beneath him. Tearing off the pillowcases, he makes some shoddy but effective restraints. Tying you to the bars on the headboard.

Ignoring your screams and how you struggle he starts to kiss down your neck, pulling at your clothes, rubbing his hands down your body.

"I'm gonna make you feel good Y/n. I'll show you that I only want you, then you'll have to forgive me." He says sounding desperate and unhinged.

You cry and yell for him to stop, trying to buck him off you, but his hand covers your mouth, his other successfully tearing down your panties from under your dress.

"Don't fight me, Angel. Just let me in. And I'll prove I love you the most."

Dom! Taehyung

Finally, Taehyung had agreed to spend some time with you in a social environment. He and you went out to a movie and dinner with some of your friends. They were vanilla friends though, so as an exception, for the day he loosened a lot of the restrictions and formalities you normally had in place.

You, however, you were getting a little too relaxed. While you joked with you're friends, you started to speak to him the same manner. As you and he were playfully arguing about trivia facts you realized you were losing the debate.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You joke. But in the company of your friends or not, Taehyung was not about to let you disrespect him. Even in jest.

"Is that how you should talk to me girl?" He asks loudly and in front of everyone, bringing the group conversation to a grinding halt.

His change in tone and his use of the possessive pet name, right away have you back in your place.

"No," you whisper. The sting of embarrassment hot upon your cheeks.

"No, what?" He pushes it.

You can't stand to look up. All of the attention is on the two of you. And even in your peripheral, you can see your friends looking at you judgementally, wide-eyed and in shock.

And he was making it worse by having you use his title around them.

"No, Sir." you surrender, your head hung low.

"Shouldn't you also apologise to the other people at the table? For interrupting our night with your rudeness." He keeps piling on one shame after the other. Stretching out the ordeal.

"No, it's fine." One of your friends tries to laugh off the awkwardness and speed the discussion away from this point. "She doesn't have to."

"Y/n," He prompts you, disregarding what your friend had said.

Thoroughly humiliated, you can't imagine how you are going to repair these relationships or explain this treatment away.

"I'm sorry for interrupting the night with my rudeness." you swallow heavily, hands shaking.

"Good girl. Now mind your mouth. Before you make me embarrass you further."

Mafia! Jungkook

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" you say in a hushed voice. More of a prayer said to yourself than an actual demand you expected Jungkook to hear.

"What did you just say to me?" he lowers the phone, gawking at you.

You really didn't mean to, it just slipped out. He was talking on the phone, going into too graphic detail about how he and his men dealt with a threat recently. You couldn't handle the gruesome details he was recanting anymore and the words just fell out.

"What did you just say? Did you just tell me to shut up?" He repeats again through your nonreply. His tongue running through the inside of his cheek, his jaw and muscles tensing. His voice jumping rapidly from stunned to aggressive.

You're at home alone with him, so you weren't paying much mind to what you were saying. But this afternoon he's been dealing with work. And right now he isn't Kookie, no the person in front of you is Jeon Jungkook. The temperamental Mafia head, who would as likely hit you as he would speak to you.

"I'm sorry," you squeak.

"You're sorry?" He scoffs, slamming the phone down. "If you had said it and meant it, that would be one thing. I could respect that. But you really just can't control your stupid little mouth can you."

"I-" you start a defence, or more a plea for mercy.

"Shut the fuck up!" He growls leaning forward in his seat making you flinch back. Darting his hand out he grabs you by the hair, pulling you back to where you were. "Don't flinch. I'm not gonna hurt you, I'm gonna help you." He smiles.

You wriggle in his clutches, mewling the same trifle apologies under your breath.

"Shhh, my brainless little Kitten. I'm gonna give you a gift." He smirks. "For your own safety, you don't need to talk for the rest of the day. I just need you to come when I call. Sit on my lap when I tell you. And purr for me like a good little pussy." Grabbing your arm harshly, he yanks you off your chair and onto the ground. "There you go, where you belong." He laughs. "You think you can remember to do all that? I know you can. Otherwise, I'll buy you a kat collar to remind you how my Kitten should behave."

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starlessea · 3 years

Text

Eye For Detail (Daryl Dixon/Reader)

Sequel to Sketchbook Confessions

Summary: You try to sketch Daryl in return. Except, you draw his smile a little crooked, and the eyes are wonky... And Daryl completely loves it.

Words: 2490

Warnings: Language.

The courtyard was still and quiet, free from the dinner-time rowdiness going on behind prison walls. Well, it was almost quiet; Daryl's scribbling over paper sounded out faintly beside you, as you watched him work. At first, he'd been opposed to the idea of company, but after a while it has become almost like a weekly tradition - in which you'd both bask in the comfortable silence together. You'd even started to bring your own notepad, in your attempts to learn how to sketch from the man.

At first, your drawings were anything but good. Sometimes, even you couldn't tell whether you'd drawn a landscape or a strange, abstract fruit bowl. Yet, Daryl was a good teacher. Where he lacked patience normally, it seemed like he had ample to spare with you. He'd shown you how to use the different charcoals, and had even come back with more art supplies after his latest run.

It was coming up to dusk, and the sky was a brilliant mix of blue and grey hues. There were clouds gathering overhead, too, and you wondered whether there was a storm brewing behind them. Your notepad remained closed over your lap, since you still hadn't gathered the confidence to open it yet. Daryl hadn't noticed, however - too absorbed in his own work to pick up on the way you tentatively thumbed over the spine of your book.

"I tried to draw a person the other day," you finally admitted, "I don't know how you do it."

Daryl stopped what he was doing, rubbing circular motions over the paper to try and blend out his charcoal lines. He looked over at you, and you laughed gently at the black fingerprints littering his cheeks.

"Who was it?" he mumbled, eyeing you as you gathered your sleeve over your hand.

You shuffled over to the man slightly, and used the material to wipe away the charcoal stains over his skin, feeling him squirm slightly beneath your touch as you did so.

"It was you," you told him, and finally he kept still.

His stare bore into you, and suddenly it felt as though you'd been set on fire. You regretted the words as they came out of your mouth, and edged away from Daryl as soon as you'd finished cleaning him up.

You cleared your throat, trying to think of an excuse you knew he wouldn't believe. You sighed, knowing it was no use.

"Well, it was a poor attempt at Daryl," you confessed, glancing down at your sketchbook sheepishly. "Maybe a Darren at best."

You'd expected him to laugh at your joke, but he didn't. Instead, he seemed intrigued. He closed his own notepad, and you worried about whether the charcoal would smudge.

"Show me." Daryl said softly, his eyes flickering over to your lap.

You bit your lip, wiping off the cover of your sketchbook before opening it.

"Don't laugh," you warned him, shaking your head slightly.

You didn't think that he would, but you suddenly felt self-conscious. You'd drawn the portrait in your cell a few nights ago when you couldn't sleep - with the page illuminated by soft lamp-light. You remembered the feeling of the linen sheets beneath you as you sprawled out over your mattress, trying your best to shade the stubborn parts. You had tried - really you had. Except, you'd discovered that art came more naturally to some than others.

"Your eyes are crooked, and I drew your nose too big." you grimaced, settling your gaze over the portrait as you inspected its faults. "I'm sorry."

In natural lighting, it looked a lot worse than you had remembered. You tried to snap the book closed, but Daryl's palm prevented you from doing so. He was silent, and you watched his eyes slowly trail over the paper, taking in all of the details.

"Fine, you can laugh," you exclaimed, overwhelmed by his lack of response. "Okay, just say something-"

"Can I keep this?" Daryl interrupted, glancing up to meet your eyes.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound came out. It took a few seconds to comprehend his words, before you finally shook your head a little too quickly.

"No!" you cried, trying to snatch the book from his grasp. "I can draw you a better one."

Daryl didn't give up his grip, and only shook his head back at you in return.

"Nah, I wan' this one."

Any argument you had bubbling up was quickly quelled when you caught sight of his expression. He seemed deadly serious, and you felt your own fingers loosen over the sketchpad as a result. The man slipped it away from you, and brought the book onto his own lap, continuing to look over it.

"But it's bad," you retorted, weakly.

You knew you had lost at this point. You had learned your stubbornness from Daryl himself, after all. The man never was one to know when to back down.

The courtyard seemed a lot darker than it had only a few minutes ago. The clouds had gathered to be more dense and thick, and blocked out the remaining light left over from the setting sun. It would be hard to keep drawing like this, you thought - yet, Daryl seemed more preoccupied now.

"E'eryone gotta start somewhere" he told you, "an' I don' want ya to throw it out."

You watched as he trailed his charcoal-stained, calloused fingers along the page - careful not to leave any marks over the pristine, white paper. Even your sketchbooks looked worlds apart from one another. Yours was neat, each drawing labelled, and your lines clean; Daryl's was a collection of blackened fingerprints alongside scrawled handwriting, and the occasional crumpled page.

"Shoulda seen my first drawings," Daryl went on, looking out towards the field, and at the forest behind it. "Merle found one when I was a kid an' told me it was a shit donkey."

You cocked your head to the side, listening to him.

"Was meant to be superman," he explained, with an expression far too serious for his words.

You snorted, and the man whipped his head over to scowl at you.

"I'm sorry-" you choked out, not missing the way his lips quivered as they fought back a smile of his own. "I must have swallowed a bug."

Not long after that, the feeling in your gut turned out to be right. The storm clouds had finished gathering, and soon the first droplet of rain landed over your paper - smudging the line you'd just drawn. You glanced over at Daryl, but before he'd even had time to reply, the downpour started. It went from a single raindrop to a raging storm in a matter of seconds, leaving you both scrambling to collect the strewn sheets of paper and charcoal pieces trembling over the ground. With your supplies bundled up in your arms, the two of you ran towards the cellblock - yelling through the sounds of the rain along the way.

Once you had reached Daryl's cell, you were soaked through. The man had dragged you there since it was closer, but it hardly made a difference. Your shirt was stuck to your skin, and you were left clutching soggy handfuls of paper - bleeding ink over Daryl's stone floor. He helped you set down the supplies onto his desk, gathering up whatever was salvageable, and throwing the rest away. Luckily, most of the pastels and charcoals had been kept safe, but a lot of loose sheets had been sacrificed to the greater good in the process.

You laughed, taking in the sight of the man. His hair stuck damply to his forehead, and you watched as stray droplets ran over his cheeks. He quickly glanced around the room and retrieved one of his shirts, before offering it to you. You took it from him and smiled, waiting for Daryl to turn his back on you before starting to change.

"Looks like the weather had other plans," you noted, pulling the dry shirt over your head. "At least it washed away that god awful drawing I did of you."

You untucked your hair from the collar, and smoothed out the material over your body. Behind you, you heard the sound of a zip, and peered over your shoulder to see Daryl taking off his own leather jacket. As he did so, you noticed that he'd been concealing something beneath it, and squinted to try and make out what it was.

"Looks jus' fine to me," the man mumbled, holding up the dry piece of paper for you to see.

You scoffed; he'd stuffed your drawing there to keep it safe. You couldn't prevent the smile spreading over your face as you looked at him in disbelief. He gave you a teasing smirk back, before setting the picture carefully onto his desk with the others.

"Y'know," Daryl said quietly, "s'a lot easier to draw from real life."

You glanced over at your drawing, knowing what he was getting at. You were acutely aware of its flaws, but you just didn't have the experience to know how to fix them yet.

"I know what you look like," you quipped back.

It was the truth. Perhaps you even knew a little too well.

"Mhm," he hummed back, before walking over to where you were standing.

You could tell from the tone of his voice that he didn't entirely believe you. One of the first things he'd taught you was that there could never truly be a good enough replacement for the real thing. Though, you had to disagree. You felt like you knew exactly how Daryl Dixon looked - you just couldn't translate it to paper.

The man stopped directly in front of you, so close that you could see his chest rising and falling. He lifted one hand slowly, tentatively even, so that you didn't get scared by his actions. Then, he hovered his palm gently over your eyelids, flicking them shut so that your world went dark.

"What colour are m'eyes?" he asked.

His hand was cold over your face, from where the rain had soaked his skin. You knew that he was trying to teach you a lesson, but you thought that perhaps you'd use the opportunity to teach him one back.

"Blue," you answered, without hesitation.

You desperately wanted to see the man's expression, but all you could do was imagine it.

"An' what-" Daryl continued, but you cut him off.

"A greyish blue," you went on, not entirely satisfied with your answer. "Like the colour of the sky before a storm."

Daryl removed his hand from over your eyes, but you kept them shut. Your fingertips brushed over the hem of his shirt that you were wearing, and you felt like you could picture the way it looked in your mind just from the texture of the material.

"Your hair is brown. The same shade as that desk near your bed," you told him, pointing in the direction you remembered it to be. "And it falls just above your neck, and is slightly curly at the ends." You laughed, considering your next words. "Especially just after you wash it."

Daryl remained silent, and you tried to picture the type of look he had in his eyes. You thought that perhaps you should stop, that you'd made your point clear - but you were in too deep to turn back now.

"And you have two moles," you said quietly - and wondered whether he had heard your voice tremble, too.

You reached out your hand slowly, trying to find the other man. Your palm made contact with his chest, and you let your fingertips trail up until you reached his neck, and then his face.

"One by your nose," you told him, resting your palm over his cheek, "and the other near your lip."

You tried to find it, but your thumb accidentally brushed over his lip, instead. Your heart jumped in your chest, and your eyes flickered open unintentionally.

"I'm sorry-" you blurted out, but the words tapered off as you noticed Daryl's stare.

The man stood perfectly still in front of you, letting your hand rest over his cold, damp skin. You quickly pulled away, glancing off to the side nervously. Though, the both of you knew that you'd gone too far to make any poor excuses now. You'd passed a boundary, but you couldn't say that you wanted to take a step back, either.

"Tha's one eye for detail ya got," Daryl said, after a few seconds had gone by.

You shook your head. "Only when it comes to you," you admitted.

Daryl looked off to the side, and then back, but you continued before he had the chance to interrupt.

"I know I'm not the best artist, but I wanted to show you how you look through my eyes, too."

Daryl raised his hand again, but this time it wasn't to block out your sight. Instead, he just rested his palm softly over your cheek - and despite how cold it was, you leant into his touch.

"Ya jus' did," he said, and gave you a small smile.

You could still hear the storm outside, as the occasional breeze whistled its way past the cracks of the cell block, or made the tree branches batter up against the windows. Sometimes, the draft even made those loose sheets flutter over the desk, in a kind of muffled, paper applause.

"Maybe I should just swap out pencils for words," you told the man. "They seem to do the job better."

He nodded in agreement, letting his hand drop back down to his side.

"Hey, Daryl?" you asked, but you already had his full attention.

"Mhm."

You decided to put your words into practice straight away, so that you wouldn't forget exactly how you felt in this moment.

"You mean a lot to me," you admitted, "in a way I don't think I'd ever be able to describe."

Daryl's eyes widened slightly, and you wished to have the talent to capture that expression with pencil and charcoal one day.

"But I still wanted to try," you finished, and waited for his response.

Except, Daryl wasn't a man of words - and he reminded you of that as he reached for his sketchbook. His fingers were still damp, and you watched as they left watery prints over the pages as he flicked through them. He finally stopped once he reached the last one, showing you his latest sketch.

It was stained with raindrops that hadn't dried yet, from where the storm had first broken out and Daryl hadn't reacted quick enough. Yet, even though it was a little smudged and wrinkled, you could still make out that it was you - from where you had been sitting right next to him in that courtyard.

The man set the book down so that the page remained open on his desk, and picked up the other loose-sheet drawing that you'd done of him - and placed them together.

"Me too," Daryl said.

And that was all you needed to hear.

Feedback is always welcomed; I love hearing what you all think - so feel free to comment, send in an ask, or just message me if you want to chat!

Also, here is my buy me a coffee! If you enjoy my writing, tips are always appreciated. Thank you for reading!

Send me a message if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!

A/N AHH. I just loved this 2 part story.

Tag List:

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dourpeep · 3 years

Note

OKAY time for a college au!!

You 3 know each other from before college

You and kazuha were seating next to each other during your first year of high school you became close enough to greet each other whenever you guys pass by each other

And you and Xiao were best friends from kindergarten to 2 grade but unfortunately you had to move suddenly you two tried to keep contact but the two of you made new friends and kinda lost contact with each other

So when you go to college you meet kazuha at the front desk when you're trying to get your schedule and yall are like "omg I'm so happy to see someone that I know here!" and when you guys check your schedules it turns out that the two of you have the same class during the first period

And you're like "we've got 30 minutes wanna go grab a cup of coffee and get lost together?" and kazu knows that you playfully flirt with your friends so he jokingly says "are you asking me out for a date? Because if you are then I accept!" and you guys talk on the way to class and the two of you barely make it on time

Class ends and you're sad to say goodbye to the only person you know on campus but then all of a sudden he hits you with a "by the way can I have your number?" so you two exchange numbers

Later you're going to your last class and it turns out that this class doesn't have many people you go sit in the back and someone comes up to you and is like "can I sit next to you? " you say yes obviously

But the thing is... there is something very familiar about this guy and you just can't put your finger on it so you kind of stare at him without realizing it

Of course he noticed how hard you've been staring at him and turns around and is like "what? Is there something on my face?" that's when it finally clicks

And you're just like "XIAO??! IS THAT REALLY YOU?!!" but the teacher comes in so you two can't really talk

But the moment class ends you tell him who you are and take a few minutes to catch up

Though I say catch up it was mostly you teasing him saying shit like "I can't believe the shy kid who used to tear up whenever his turn on the swing was taken would grow up to be this handsome!" (he's starting to think that maybe he should have sat somewhere else)

So you're like "hey how we go actually catch up I've got some coupons for this café I went to this morning with a friend"

He doesn't have a reason to say no so he just accepts the invitation

When you guys get there who do you meet? KAZUHA! This man actually works there!

When you see him you're like "kazuha why didn't you tell me that you work here?" but he pretends not to know you and is like "oh? Well who might this fine customer be?" you can tell he's joking by the way he's trying not to laugh so you decide to play along

Poor Xiao is starting to regret coming with you (but don't worry he got 2 plates of almond tofu as an apology)

-no primogems (I'll make another part later where you 3 become roommates)

YES I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS-

dhfaeiahe I realize now that I should've just posted this as is since I wasn't planning on adding to this but might as well add in some thoughts I've had about this lovely trio eh??? tbh I didn't add much I just slipped in a few little things hehe

Can you guess the roomates?? Also the bio professor is Albedo ehe

Anyway!!

Considering it's the first semester of college, you haven't yet decided on your major. Luckily, you have quite a few general education classes to take, so you register all in one night.

You'll have the time to figure it all out as time goes by, no?

The rest of summer is spent juggling moving into the campus' dorms, working, and keeping up with some friends from high school. While you've kept contact with a few friends, you definitely kicked yourself in the ass for forgetting to ask Kazuha for his number...how could you forget one of your best friends?

But, you suppose that he's far off in a whole other city with his wish to experience more. You can't help but wonder what he's up to.

Then, the first day of classes starts.

How did you not figure out where everything is first? Instead of moping, you trudge to the administrative building early to ask for directions and, even better, a map of the large campus.

Instead, you find a familiar head of cream-colored hair.

Immediately, you gasp and he turns around in confusion, only for a soft smile to spread over his features. It's only been a summer but it's a relief to see that you know another person. Comparing schedules, he points out that you both have Communications 1301 together.

For once, you're glad you have to take these mandatory courses...

But with an abundance of time (as Kazuha just so happens to know where the class is), he accepts your jokingly firtatious proposal to head to the cafe just across campus to grab a morning drink.

It's hardly been long since you've last spoken to him, but there's still so much to talk about! It turns out he opted to rent out a small studio apartment just a few blocks away from campus! Naturally, he invites you over sometime.

He's also admitted that he decided to major in English--something you're not surprised to hear. After all, Kazuha's a natural at the subject, exceeding the assignments and always so eloquent.

If you recall correctly, he used to tote around a little notebook full of little musings and poetry during high school. You wonder if he still does that.

You talk about how you've just moved into the dorms a week ago, how you're lucky to be rooming with two musically inclined (if not a bit rowdy) people. You're sure that he'd take a liking to them once everything is calmed down a bit. Kazuha just raises a brow in half-doubt.

Before you know it, it's been an hours and, to your horror, your first class starts in five minutes. Not to mention that it was back closer to the admin building and you were on the opposite side of campus.

But it's still fun, Kazuha laughing as you jolt up and tug him to stand, the two of you running to get to class on time. With heaving breaths and flushed faces, you make it just a few minutes late. Luckily, your professor didn't mind because it was the first day...

Following class, you have to make your way to Bio 1301, Kazuha having a major-specific English course to get to. Before you can speak, though, he offers his phone to you. It's newer than his old flip phone you'd tease him about all the time, the screen clean save for a few stray fingerprints.

After you put in your number, he beams and quickly sends you a call so you can have his too.

"Call me after you're done with classes, alright?"

You promise to and the two of you set off.

Biology proves to be uneventful, a full hour and a half of the (rather attractive) professor going over what to expect as well as passing out lab waiver forms. A necessary precaution, he said with a reserved sigh. You wonder what happened.

When the hour ends, you have some time before World History, followed by a Trigonometry course.

By the time you find your trig class, most of the seats are already taken, making that feeling of dread fill the pit of your stomach. Nothing is worse than being forced to take whatever seat is left. But, noticing a seat by the windows, it's not so bad.

You're in the back, though, settling your bag beneath your chair and picking out a pen and schedule book.

At some point, someone walks in and asks if the seat in front of you is taken. You don't bother to look up long as you fish out a notebook, letting him know it's free.

As class goes on, you realize that the guy in front of you most likely hasn't been paying attention. Considering that the professor has been rehashing stuff from Algebra...you're not surprised. But something about his dark hair catches your eye. Not to mention his striking gold eyes...hm.

It's not until you catch his profile as he stares out the window that it clicks.

"Xiao."

His eyes dart to look at you, a confused look washing over his face. You repeat his name.

"Yes?"

Part of him is just about ready to leave as recognition floods your expression, smile wide. How could you possibly---

"I can't believe the shy kid who used to tear up whenever his turn on the swing was taken would grow up to be this handsome!"

The tips of his ears turn red fast, something that you remember very well about him, and his gaze quickly flicks over to the professor still dragging on. When gold settles back on you, they're practically begging for you to lower your voice.

"It's been forever--I can't believe that you-"

"If you're going to talk, do it outside of class."

Ah. Oopsie.

Time seems to drag on while you buzz in your seat, excited to see your childhood friend after loosing contact. You've missed him over the years, always wondering what happened to him, how he's been. And finally, when class ends, he gets up and waits for you.

Naturally, you want to catch up, so you invite him to go to the cafe with you for a late lunch.

"You still like almond tofu right? It's all you used to eat when we were little." Laughing, you nudge his shoulder and the color returns to his cheeks as he mumbles a yes.

When you step into the cafe, a familiar voice greets you.

"If I knew a cute customer would be coming, I would've gone on break."

Kazuha leans on the counter, mirth in his eyes and you gasp. It makes sense now, why he's so well acquainted with the campus and why he'd already known what to order when you arrived for drinks-

"What can I get for you today?"

"Your number."

Xiao's face pales at the blatant flirting, wondering if he should've just declined the invitation to the cafe until the two of you burst into laughter. Though, it's hardly better.

"Sorry, sorry- This is Kazuha, one of my friends from high school. Kazuha, this is my childhood best friend Xiao."

With a day so filled with nice coincidences, you doubt that life can get any better than this.

Oh, how wrong you'd be.

#anon asks #no primogems anon #kazuha x xiao x reader #xiao and his two lovely dumb s/o's #college au #polycule #polyamory #meet cute #xiao #kazuha #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact drabbles #genshin impact fics #genshin impact

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stigandr-the-cat · 3 years

Text

AHHHHHH THANK YOU AGAIN TO @ghost-party for listening to me babble for hours on end and letting me join your collab not to mention beta reading!!!! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH TREASURE OF MY HEART 🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

A/N : Update because i realized i have zero context for this. 😅

Modern! Single dad! Reiner with GN reader. Theme is meet-cute. 4.8k mentions of death, war, and injury. More along the lines of fluff with slight smut so minors DNI. ENJOY 😊

The young woman ran from Eldia, from a home torn apart with war. One arm caged her son Reiner against her chest, the other hand held fast to the child of her sister, the rest of their family dead. Still in the throes of grief that threatened to tear apart her soul, her only thought was to save the children in her arms. A prayer that they soon would find themselves someplace safe and far away from this nightmare dragged into daylight was whispered unceasingly on chapped lips.

Years later, at 24, Reiner Braun has worn each stage of life like too-tight skin. Skin split down his back as he tried to find freedom with each forward step. Each new layer would crack across the knuckles, dripping blood-soaked memories. More cracks formed down his chest, broken and straining against the strong beat of his heart. He had run from childhood into the military without a second to breathe let alone think. A military that sent him to that first forgotten home to kill his own people that everyone was raised to see as monsters. Yet on the return, he could only see them as a single entity being lead to slaughter. The sight of his mother's tears when he had left burned in his dreams before turning into the screams of comrades who hadn't come home. With that, he now carries himself like a broken weapon, only good for being melted down and used for scrap.

Upon an old motorcycle, Reiner settled down in the traffic, kickstand on the road. They hadn't moved in a while, and from what little he could see, they wouldn't be for a while. As if the sky above had conspired against his desire to have a peaceful night with half-forgotten family before returning to the apartment — to the death that waited. A clean, loaded rifle, with the barrel ready for him to swallow so he could greet the stars above. Would they be welcoming in their cold light? Most of them were long dead after images, just as he was only the mirage of whatever broken mold there had been before. Still, he would say his goodbyes while they welcomed his brother's baby girl into this broken world.

Slowly, traffic moved forward after an age of stillness. A silent prayer of thanks to whatever power kept the world spinning escaped Reiner's lips. The thanks turned into that sharp inhale of one who is trying to stay calm when faced with carnage. His eyes widened at the sight of the crash, one car so mangled as to be unrecognizable, trapped under a jack-knifed semi-truck. Blood dripped down a mangled hand, a ring glinting in a shaft of sunlight. Reiner wasn't sure if he felt envy or pity for the poor bastard. He crawled past and on towards the hospital where his family waited.

"Mr. Braun?" Reiner stood and turned towards the voice, faltering for a moment when he saw a policeman standing with a doctor. Their expressions were agonized, bodies as stiff as corpses on a sting.

"Yes?"

"I'm Doctor Cooper and this is Officer Forger. I'm afraid we have terrible news."

Reiner had known something was wrong when the nurse at the desk had, with the face of a ghost, told him to sit when he gave his name. How she had whispered into her phone, "He's here," when his back was turned. He sat stone-still, mind spinning. What could it be? What could be so bad that not one of the family could greet him? His heart thumped against cracked ribs, the scabbed-over, broken skin now oozing fresh blood at the strength of it. Fear filled his blood, choking the air.

"There was an accident. Your mother and brother were involved in a car crash and died. Your sister-in-law, upon hearing the news, became frantic, and in the attempt to restrain her, stitches from the caesarian tore open. We tried to save her but sadly were unable to do so."

Reiner felt the world stop, a shuddering breath turning to poison in his lungs. The car under the semi… Had that been them?

"What about..." His voice faltered before the soldier in him took over. "What about the baby? Gabi?"

"She’s fine. Healthy baby girl. There will be paperwork and other legalities to take care of, but it looks like you’re the only family she has left."

At nearly 30, this latest skin Reiner wears hardly fits him any better than others in the past. It still bleeds at the knuckles, staining his hands crimson. The baby turned toddler and now child, calling him Dad, not Uncle, even as Reiner tried to convince her otherwise. Gabi is as headstrong as both he and his brother combined. She has learned from her friends that he fits the definition of a dad, and so he is Dad. As such, he has taken this new name like a vow to be the best he could be. The rifle was long ago sold, his old uniform and medals placed in a locked box at the back of his closet, left to rot. The apartment that would have welcomed his death has now been left behind. With his daughter, they have made a faraway condo their home.

"Dad! It's time for the park!" Gabi calls, her little feet dancing loudly at the back door.

"I hear you, I hear you. One second," Reiner calls back from the kitchen, filling a water bottle before adding it to a backpack, along with some snacks.

Gabi continues to stamp her feet and huff as he puts on his jacket and shoes. Then they are out the back door, to the gate that leads from their backyard into the park. Gabi is already running top speed to the playground. Reiner just lengthens his strides to keep up, not even trying to get her to slow down. It’s as futile as trying to stop a rocket with bare hands.

At the park on the benches, three moms sit like The Fates squabbling over their single eye. He takes his place on another bench, close enough to hear them but only just. His mind is more focused on watching the children than listening to their continual tainted stream of gossip.

"Did you hear? The old condo sold, and apparently it’s the sister of that shrew," one hisses.

"They’re going to be living next to each other. It’s a family," a second observes. She must have spent the night over Facebook and wine again.

"Oh, look... Here comes the shrew. The kid must be the sister’s," the final woman — the ringleader — observes.

This catches Reiner's attention. He looks up from the kids to see the new arrivals. You are heart-stopping, wearing a black leather jacket and light pink shirt, snug jeans, and leather boots. Your hand is intertwined with one belonging to a small child, puffy in their coat and boots, and you silently encourage them forward to the swings. They look back at you before running towards Gabi to introduce themselves. Already her hand is taking the place of yours, and they are off running and tumbling across the playground.

Reiner has heard of you before, sure, the mothers only calling you “the shrew.” The only other single person on this block, they tried to set you two up as soon as they learned he was also single. But he never agreed and neither did you. An action he now regrets as his eyes drift back over you, a warm smile dancing on your lips as you stand before The Fates while they weigh you in the scale of their own image. He knows they already find you both lacking. Their ideal of white picket fences with a spouse and two children, with the only variant being what pet you own, doesn’t match the lines you have drawn around as your framework. And yet you stand, head high, knowing you are your own ideal. It is like looking at a river breaking the bonds others would have forced on it — magnificent, leaving him hungry for any scrape of attention you would throw at him. A shriek of delight recalls his attention to the children, even as he strains to hear the nectar that drips from your lips.

"Yes, my sister bought the condo next to me. Rin is the kid's name. I'm watching them today. Yes, my sister will be wanting to join the Facebook group. No, I still don't have a Facebook and won't be joining." Your voice is clipped against the torrent of questions.

Finally, you get away from them and come sit next to him. He can feel the blush rising to his face.

"God, they’re catty. I almost thought they were going to try and eat my heart." Reiner chuckles at this. "I'm Y/N. And you?"

"Reiner Braun."

"Which one is yours?"

"The one with dark brown hair leading the group. Her name is Gabi."

"Cute. Not even five and already a leader."

"Six, actually."

"So close."

"Not in her eyes."

"No, you’re right. Never in the eyes of the child is ‘close’ good enough when it comes to their age and how they wish to be treated." Reiner lifts an eyebrow. "Rin has to say their exact age down to the day and expects everyone else to do the same. But they also desire to be given the same respect as a child twice their age." You pause, eyes wandering the outlines of him. "Househusband?"

"No, our tale is a bit more tragic. She was my brother's child, but our family is... Our family is gone." His voice is ice numb, with the passage of time scabbing over those wounds. Yet he hears you suck in broken air at the revelation.

"I'm sorry to ask."

"I'm not. She changed my life for the better, even if it came with heartache."

"You don't look like a philosopher, Reiner Braun, but you talk like one."

"Oh, do I?"

"Just a bit." You offer him a small smile and it is a sunbeam through the rain.

The conversation is molasses, honey-sweet and slow, an amber spyglass that sharpens and colors in the lines you both have drawn around yourselves. He learns about what you call a sedentary life of living and working from home, broken up with family events and vacations. But it is a life you love, even in solitude. The way your eyes glow with each spilled word has his heart skipping like the children you both watch in between shy glances made of the spun sugar of new yearning.

You learn about Reiner's struggle with being thrust into his guardianship soon after his return home from war. His struggle to find a job that would allow him to be there for Gabi. The path that eventually led him to be a building inspector. He can feel the words rise from places within him that are both featherlight yet suck at his soul like tar. This time, his glance is rewarded with your eyes locked on his, your lip caught in your teeth.

"I know I should say thank you for your service, but your eyes look so haunted." There is compassion written in your eyes that says more than a thousand speeches about the honor he should feel from being a soldier, about doing his country proud. It's overwhelming, so he looks away, afraid to break at this lightest touch of tenderness.

Far too soon, the sky begins its slow turn to dusk. Far too soon, it is just Gabi and Rin running around. Far too soon, you both are the only ones left, yet there is no move to leave. It is comfortable, sitting together as the children run. As if it is a comfortable silence built by months and years of understanding and not just moments and hours.

"It's getting late, but I don't want to say goodbye." Your voice is whisper soft.

"Then don't. You’re both welcome to come over for dinner." His boldness is a surprise, even as he waits with bated breath for your answer. The words begin to slip from your smiling lips.

A discordant, jarring noise fills the air, making you both jump in fright before turning to nervous laughter. You hold up your phone, wincing as you see the name across the screen — a reminder of something previously forgotten.

"Hey, sis."

"What do you mean, ‘Hey, sis’? Where is Rin? I've been texting you for the past ten minutes and haven't heard anything back. Are you guys okay?" Pulling the phone away from your ear as the person on the other end shouts, Reiner grimaces in sympathy.

"Yeah, sorry, Rin is fine. We’ve been having lots of fun at the park. They made a friend."

The voice on the other end goes soft after your apology, so much so that he can't hear it. Not that he should have been listening to your conversation. He turns to face the children, watching them laugh as they go down a slide, tangled together. The blinding brilliance of childhood friendships made in innocence.

"Sorry, Rin was supposed to be home by now. Raincheck?" You offer a small smile in apology.

"Of course." He recites to you his phone number before turning to the children. "Gabi! Rin! Time!" His voice is loud enough to carry but not a shout, never a yell in anger. The two children pop up like weasels before scrambling over.

Rin holds on to Gabi's hand and won't let go. Gabi, too, has a determined look about her that he has seen for so long yet it still affects him, filling him with pride over how fierce she is.

"No. I want to keep playing with Rin. Can they sleep over?" Her voice is the high-pitched whistle of a fire in the clouds. Until you get down to their level, a serenity about you like the sea.

"I promise, you and Rin can play again really soon. Rin is moving here next month. But I'll try and get Rin down here again before then, okay?"

"Okay," She grumbles, the two dropping their interlocked hands. Rin wrapping their arms about your neck, head tucked against your shoulder.

Cooing to the child, you give Reiner one final smile before leaving.

"I'll text you later, Reiner." How you say his name has him weak-kneed. He wants to hear it again, bottle the sound and use it to fuel this newfound addiction. So lost in his name written in your voice, he stands rock still as you walk away.

"Dad?" Gabi tugs at him, her small hand hardly wrapping around his first couple of fingers.

Shaking off the spell of your voice he turns to her, kneeling himself. "Yeah, sweetie?"

"What's for dinner?"

"How about breakfast?" he asks, grunting softly as he picks her up with one arm, the other grabbing the backpack.

"Can I have waffles with whipped cream?"

"Sure, if you ask nicely."

"Please, Dad!" she squeals in delight.

"I'll get it ready. Why don't you go take a bath and get in your PJs?" Setting her down to open up the back gate, he holds it open for her before locking it once he is through.

"Okay!" Hardly remembering to take off her boots and coat, she is running up the stairs, unable to contain her energy and excitement. Reiner smiles at this blessing he has been given. A tree growing again after a fire, healing from its damage.

Reiner has learned the relaxation his mother taught him was in cooking, in feeding those you love with creations of your hands. He remembers her soft songs in a language he cast off. He hums them now, the words long lost to the decay of time. Soon the smell of waffles and eggs fills the small kitchen. Behind him, on the chair where he left his coat, his phone dings loudly once, twice. Work probably, some contractor asking him for the punch list. So he ignores it in favor of not burning their dinner.

Gabi babbles her thanks in between half-chewed bites of whipped cream mixed with syrup dribbling down her chin. Reiner tries to remind her to chew her food, which she apologizes for as more slips down her face, causing him to sigh. When she is satisfied, he sits her on the kitchen counter with gentle hands and cleans her face. How these hands have changed, but still, a scar across his palm catches at the soft skin. These hands are still marked with cracked skin, knuckles with fresh blood that slides down the back of them. He prays she never sees the ache of the bleeding wounds.

Gabi uses the last bit of her energy, squirming under the wet cloth before collapsing against his chest. In the soft silence of their home, he avoids the one stair that creaks before helping her brush her teeth and braid her hair to sleep. Her eyes have gone glassy, hands grabbing around his neck, soft breath against him. She is a gift he never would have deemed himself worthy to have. Already asleep, he tucks her in bed before kissing her forehead. Satisfied with checking that the window is locked, he turns the combination night light music player on before he leaves.

This new life is made of cotton, a cushion against the harsh turning of the times. Looking at the small mess in the kitchen, Reiner remembers his phone going off and puts off the latter in favor of just checking. Surprised delight works a smile up to his face as he sees a new number flash across his screen.

Rin's home safe. Wouldn't stop talking about Gabi and how much they love her. Had to admit, I thought her father was pretty neat. Is the dinner invitation still available if it’s just me?

Of course! Oh, I just looked at the time. Sorry for the late reply. If you want to come over, you’re welcome, but I don't want to disrupt your evening.

You're fine. I figured you were taking care of Gabi. How is she?

Sleeping like a log after playing with Rin. Thank you for letting me know you both are safe. I have to admit, I think you're pretty neat, too.

I'm glad we agree. I can be there in a couple of minutes. I'm back home now.

I'll have a plate of waffles ready for you.

Reiner sets down the phone before looking to make sure that it's only a messy kitchen he has to worry about. Satisfied that it looks decent, he finds no toys left on the floor like landmines. In the small kitchen, he sets up a plate. There is excitement trembling in his hands at the thought of seeing you again in the near dark. What sides will he see from this new angle?

But there is worry weighing on his shoulders, wondering how will you see him? The darkness is a theater screen that plays out the harshest memories of our past. Will the shadows that line his face be too much? Will you see the cracked skin and turn away, squeamish at the sight of blood? His thoughts are quicksand and cold rain, draining even as his breath speeds up.

He has already been given a new direction and blessing in his life with Gabi. Is there the possibility of the hope that he might be blessed with love? Someone who will hold his hand as he continues to bandage the cracks and seal them together? His chest heaves at the strain of racing thoughts, even as he is still blocking out the world lost in the mire. The crack of a stone on wood startles him.

The soldier he has restrained for years rises within, ready to fight to protect the life that sleeps peacefully above. He is quick to rush outside, only to hear giggling. Confusion twists around his head like a halo, the soldier retreating to the corner of his soul where he forces them to find peace. He finds you smiling, another small rock in your hand which is quickly dropped. With a look of false innocence fighting against an overwhelming smile, he can feel his own smile forming in response.

"I wonder who could be throwing rocks at this hour?" He looks around ready to see how far you will take this act.

"Must be a delinquent punk or a ghost."

"Well then, my chivalry demands I let you in, at the very least, to keep you safe."

Your hand coming up to pat against his chest has his head spinning, the lingering heat blooming and unfurling like vines, pulling his cracked edges back together. He hardly remembers the plate he had fixed for you. He cracks open two sour orange beers that he hopes pair well with the sickly sweet of the whipped cream and syrup. He sips at his can while you eat, your content moan at the food nearly setting him on fire. The dark clouds of his earlier thoughts change to different desires.

Those thoughts stay and linger after you set down your plate, thanking him. They rage when you move closer to him. The purse of your lips as you sip at the beer. How your eyes linger on his face before turning back to the sky. The stars that once looked so cold now point out the lights in the dark. Those lights dance across your skin, and he knows you are another light in the dark, calling to him — a blessing he feels unworthy to touch as you pull his arm around your shoulders, leaning into the warmth of his chest. He keeps his vision trained on you, drinking in your soft light. He pulls you closer, until you’re squished against him.

It’s a picture and a movie he will treasure in his heart, the soft exhale of your breath across his chest causing shockwaves. He thinks about leaning down and kissing the crest of your hair. Tensing to ask if he can, the first drops of rain hit. It’s a deluge in a moment, soaking you both as he lifts you into his arms to carry you to the warm safety of the living room.

"Wait, Reiner!" Your laughing hand against his face pulls his attention to your eyes. "Let's dance — please." Your voice is a whispering beg, and he would fall on his knees to hear that sound again.

Reiner is careful in how he sets you down, steadying hands against your waist. Your own hands wrap over his to guide them. The cold rain is nothing against the heat in his chest as he twirls you in the downpour. If happiness were a sound, it would be your laugh and sigh. The gasp you make when he picks you up and dips you back is a benediction. Your hands travel the path of his shoulder and waist to cup his face, pulling him again to your rainwater-soft lips, warm breath against his before the movement is sealed.

When you pull back to breathe, he catches your lower lip in his teeth, finding he finally can breathe. Your arms loop around his neck as you pull in closer to him. His arms lower to your thighs, pulling you up. He starts walking into the condo. Soon, your back is against the wall, legs wrapped around his waist. His heart is beating hard when he finally pulls back, pressing his forehead against yours and pressing a soft kiss to it.

"If this is too fast, tell me to stop." His voice is shaking with desire.

"But we both need to get out of these wet clothes." You nip at his lip, pulling him back into a kiss that quickly turns deep, his tongue scraping across teeth, the taste of beer and waffles lingering in your mouth.

Laughter bubbles soft in pressed-together chests. Soaked shirts and pants abandoned on the floor. Warm kisses press against cold exposed skin. He moves to your neck, placing kisses there. When you tug on his hair, he growls softly before nipping at the skin and moving back to your lips. Again, he is carrying something precious in his arms as he climbs the stairs. Again, he steps over the one that creaks, walks down the other side of the hall until he is pressing you against his bed.

Heat crackles, electricity flowing like circuits finally connecting at last. Soft thighs rub against his own. Nails scrape down his chest and back until he is keening. The heavy weight between his legs presses against yielding hips. The last of the soaked clothing is stripped away, cast off into the darkness. Moonlight plays across your skin, making him swear you have been sent from the stars to guide him home.

"Dad!"

He pulls away quickly, a groan leaving you both. He places a soft kiss on your stomach before trying to find some sweatpants, calling back that he will be there in a second. Looking back, you are smirking, swaddled in the thick duvet, finger pressed against your lips even as your eyes travel the length of him. Padding out and closing the door behind him, Reiner shakes his head at this sweet, tormenting twist of fate.

"Gabi?"

"Down here!" He turns, going down to the living room.

"What is it, sweetie?"

"I was thirsty, so I was getting some water. I came down and saw the clothes on the floor." He can just make out the confusion across her face.

“Oh, I was outside and got caught in the rain, so I took them off as soon as I came in." His body flushes with embarrassment.

"Okay, but why are there two pants on the floor? Are you having a sleepover?"

"You know, I think it's time you go back to bed. Did you get your water?" His voice is cracking, mind spinning, eyes widening with horror as his breath speeds up.

"You are having a sleepover! Can I come join?"

"Gabi! No!" He is too quick, too loud, fear making him desperate.

"Why not?" She is pouting.

"Because." He pauses. "They’re already asleep and I don't want to wake them up."

"Oh, okay. Wait, why do you get to have a sleepover and I don't?"

"Come on, back to bed with you. I'll explain in the morning." He hopes for once she will be too tired and leave it alone.

"Fine." The sigh of relief cascades through his whole body.

Gabi, with a glass of water in her hand, trudges back up the stairs, little legs making her step on the creaking one. He really should fix it. Reiner grabs the clothes and goes back to his room, caught between shock and hysterical laughter, wondering if you heard all that transpired. He hopes to find you laughing. To press against you again, happiness wrapping around you both. To lose himself in your embrace. Instead, he finds you have pilfered one of his shirts and are curled up in his bed, asleep. Not having the heart to wake you, he goes to hang the clothes up in the attached bathroom’s shower so they can dry. Coming back, he leans down to kiss the space behind your ear, enjoying the mewl you let out from the contact.

"Hey, do you want to bed to yourself?"

"No — cuddles." Your arms are already grabbing for him. "Maybe I'll wake back up so we can continue."

"Don’t worry about that. Let yourself sleep. I'll still be here tomorrow,” he mummers against sleep-warm skin as he tucks you two together, bodies nestled together like puzzle pieces. Already, you are drifting back to sleep, face pressed against his chest, arms and legs tangling with his. A sob claws its way around his chest. Questions of why he was blessed and saved with first Gabi and now your brilliance in his life. How you feel like a permanent fixture, even within only hours.

He can feel sleep tugging at him, but still, his thoughts slip out. "Is it strange that I can already see us as a family?"

"No — not if I say yes." The words press themselves deeper into his skin, until they sink to his heart, a new bandage forming over the cracks.

His breath catches before he pulls you closer, lips pressing kisses into your hair.

That night, when he dreams, he doesn't see a mother's tears. But he remembers. When he came home with some groceries he had gotten for doing some work for a neighbor, and how his mother patted his head and told him he would be an amazing husband and father one day.

Reiner notices the next morning that his skin is healing, scars becoming thick with scales like armor. His role as father fits him far better than before, his hand having found yours.

#meet cute collab #attack on titan #aot #aot reiner #aot x you #snk x reader #snk reiner #snk #reiner x reader #reiner braun #reiner fluff #attack on titan reiner #shingeki no kyojin

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mmonamona · 3 years

Text

all’s hair in love and war [corpse husband x reader]

synopsis: you ask Corpse to help you dye your hair, but things don’t go as planned. gn reader.

a/n: sorry for that horrendous pun, I couldn't help myself. anyways, I did my best to keep hair length/texture ambiguous! also also I took a couple of days off to catch up on school work but I'm back. I'm currently working on some requests I have piled up :)

You thought Corpse helping you out with your hair would take his mind off things, but his gloved hands trembled as he applied the dye to your hair and you realised it wouldn’t be as relaxing for him as you thought it would be.

“Baby, it’s really not that deep,” you laughed, trying to assure him that he had no reason to be nervous, “Haven't you dyed your hair before?”

“Yeah, but this is your hair,” he replied, evidently not confident in his skills.

“It’s ok, I mean what the worst that could happen?”

“I fuck it up and you hate me forever,” he returned curtly, tilting your head to give him access to the back of your head.

You chuckled, but Corpse didn’t seem to find the concept of ruining your hair quite as funny.

“Honestly babe, I could never hate you. And it’s just hair, it grows back.”

“You say that now..” he trailed off.

“Corpsie, you’re doing great. Just take your time.”

His nimble hands worked your strands, coating them as best as he could. His tongue poked out as he concentrated on the task, and you couldn’t help but giggle at him when you saw his reflection in the mirror. Before you knew it, he had finished, and all you had to do was wait.

He peeled the gloves off of his hands and threw them in the trashcan, before sitting on the edge of the bathtub to keep you company while you waited for the dye to develop.

“So, you have dyed your hair before?” You questioned him, seeking more of a confirmation than an answer.

“A couple of times, I’ve gone through a few colours,” he clarified, picking at the black polish on his nails.

“You’d look so fucking good with blue hair,” you said after thinking for a while.

“I’ve actually had it blue before.”

“And? Did you like it?”

“I don’t really remember what it looked like,” he shrugged, “I guess it looked ok.”

“Stay humble,” you joked, “I bet you’d look good in any colour.”

He chuckled, “Yeah right. I’d look so bad with like.. neon pink. Or green.”

You giggled softly, squinting as if in thought, “You know, I bet you’d pull those off too.”

“You think?” he asked with a small smile on his face, the faintest blush dusting his cheeks.

“You'd look good in anything, you can't convince me otherwise,” you smiled, “You should dye your hair with me next time.”

“If you insist,” he said casually, but the look on his face made it clear that he definitely wasn’t opposed to the idea.

You spent the next 20 minutes or so talking about anything and everything, and when enough time had passed, he nodded you over to the bathtub.

“Lean back, I’ll wash it out for you,” he said softly, grabbing the shower head and turning on the water. He checked the temperature before allowing the water to run through your hair. His hands massaged your scalp as he washed the dye out; the combination of the warm water and his soft touch basically had you purring by the time he was finished.

Full of excitement, you wrapped your head in a towel and practically skipped over to the mirror as Corpse rinsed the bathtub. You patted your hair dry as best as you could, before unwrapping it and looking in the mirror.

Your face fell instantaneously.

“Umm.. that doesn’t look right,” you said shakily, in disbelief at the reflection in front of you. Corpse immediately whipped around in response.

“Shit...” he muttered, undoubtedly blaming himself for the disaster.

“What the fuck man..” you sighed to no one in particular, closing your eyes as if the botched dye job would just disappear if you didn’t look at it.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I knew I’d mess it up,” he said, voice wavering with regret.

“It’s ok,” you said, bending down and searching the trash for the discarded dye box as if it could provide some sort of salvation, “it might just be a shit brand.”

When he didn’t respond, you looked over your shoulder, only to be met with the sight of your boyfriend with a deep frown on his face.

“Corpsey! You look like you're about to cry or something!” You laughed softly, getting back up and turning around to give him a hug, “I’m not mad, I promise.”

“I’m sorry, I just knew you were so excited and I ruined it..”

“Babe it’s not your fault. I mean it’s not even that bad..” you said, turning to the mirror one more time, but you could hardly keep a straight face. It looked horribly patchy, and before you knew it you were shaking with laughter. “Honestly if it came out this bad with your help, I can’t imagine how bad it would be if I'd done it myself.”

Corpse couldn’t help but join in, a weight lighting off his shoulders as he watched you laugh hysterically, “it looks so bad!”

“I know!” You said between giggles, “Guess I’ll just have to buy some more hair dye tomorrow.”

“Well I’m not getting involved again.”

“But baaaaabe..” you whined, giving him your best puppy dog eyes, “I need your help uwu.”

“Did you just say ‘uwu’ out loud?” He snickered.

“Look who’s talking! Literally all your songs have ‘uwu’ in them,” you teased, “and stop trying to change the subject! You’re helping me.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. You awaited his response, but the silence lingered even as you playfully glared at him.

“Corpse!” You chastised.

“Ok fine. But if I mess it up again I’m never touching your hair.”

“Deal.”

“Pinky promise?”

You giggled, leaning forward to give him a kiss on the nose before hooking your pinky with his, “pinky promise.”

Lucky for you, you didn’t have to go through with your promise. By the end of the week, your hair was looking better than ever, and it was enough to convince Corpse to be your personal hairstylist whenever you needed him.

Corpse Taglist:

@holosexualunicorn7000 @mitchiesdungeon

#corpse husband x reader #oh to have a loving partner that washes your hair and massages your scalp #lmfao not that anyone asked but I only wrote this Cus the same thing happened to me the other day #my hair looks great now tho dw #I really need to stop talking in the tags

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cha-melodius · 3 years

Note

Napollya + 6, 34 or 60, if I'm not too late? ❤ (yeah look they are all very good and I couldn't narrow it down to just one, sorry LOL)

me: how nice of Ely to give three options also me: what if I wrote a story with all three???

Ok, so I didn’t get a “returned from the dead” kiss in this one, but that’s mostly because I JUST wrote one of those in a different wip, so you’ll get it soon enough. 😂 And you get bonus kissing in the rain, which I canNOT believe was not an option in the prompt list.

So here it is, Napollya + “I’m sorry” kiss + Throwing Their Arms Around The Other Person, Holding Them Close While They Kiss

Also find it on AO3

_________

It had been such a stupid argument.

How was he supposed to know that today happened to be a significant anniversary full of bad memories? How was he supposed to know that his usual level of friendly needling would set his partner off in a way he hadn’t seen since Rome? How could he have guessed that their verbal sparring—which, ok, he said some things he regrets—would have ended up with him pinned to the wall by his throat; certainly not any way he might have imagined being pinned to the wall by his partner.

Right. No point in thinking about that now.

Now Illya has been gone for hours after he stormed out of the safehouse and, more worryingly, the tracker that Napoleon had snuck onto him had gone dead. They aren’t just in the middle of a mission, they’re in the middle of a exceedingly tricky mission involving a highly volatile and dangerous target, leaving them all more on edge than usual. Add to that the unlucky timing of a cyclone bearing down on them, set to make landfall in Macau all too soon. So yes, Napoleon had gone after him without a second thought, tearing out of the safehouse like a bat out of hell, heedless of the rain already beginning to lash mercilessly down.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, ok?

It seems like less of a good idea now that he’s soaked to the bone and the water is squelching in his ruined shoes as he hurries through the flooding streets. And who knows when he’ll be able to get back to Milan to commission a new pair. The area where Illya’s tracker had last transmitted from is deserted now; everyone has sought shelter from the storm at this point. Everyone except Napoleon. For all he knows, their target had managed to capture his partner, and his chances of finding any clues are rapidly washing away.

Still, it’s not like he can just give up. He squints down at the small receiver, which displays the last known location of the tracker, and follows the signal down the street. It’s a frustratingly normal road, lined with cute little shops and restaurants, now all closed and boarded up against the storm. Not exactly someplace that he’d expect a highly-trained spy to disappear. He’s nearly reached the exact spot when the receiver flickers and winks off, no doubt as waterlogged as Napoleon feels.

“Fuck,” he swears, barely audible even to himself over the wind and rain, and smacks the device futily against his palm a few times.

There’s nothing here. Of course there’s nothing here. It’s the middle of a goddamn tropical cyclone. He should probably see if he can find someplace to break into so he can ride out the worst of the storm, because it’s unlikely he’ll make it back to the safehouse at this point. A restaurant, maybe, so he can raid the kitchen for something to eat. Not that he’s particularly hungry; his stomach seems to have been replaced by a cold, bitter knot of fear and regret.

If only he’d laid off it this morning. If only he’d noticed the signs that this wasn’t a normal day. If only he’d gone after Illya sooner. If only, if only, if only. And now his partner is missing. He could be injured, or being currently tortured, or, or—

Abruptly Napoleon is nearly yanked off his feet when someone grabs his arm and hauls him bodily into an alley. He doesn’t yelp in surprise—he doesn’t—but it’s certainly a shock to be shoved up against a wall when he thought he was the only one on the street. It’s even more of a shock to see icy blue eyes staring back at him from beneath a soaked and dripping flat cap.

“Peril?” he gasps, hardly believing his eyes.

“What are you doing here, Cowboy?”

“Looking for you,” Napoleon yells over the wind and rain. “You never came back to the safehouse, and your tracker went dead.”

The corner of Illya’s mouth twitches upward at that. “Trackers and water do not mix very well, you know.”

“I can’t believe you, Peril. Why didn’t you come back before the weather got bad?”

Illya shrugs. “Didn’t think you’d care. Thought I would wait out the storm, maybe not get so wet.”

That makes Napoleon bark out a laugh. “So much for that,” he says, plucking at Illya’s soaked jacket.

“I was not until you decided to show up and stand in a typhoon,” Illya shoots back, but there’s no heat in his voice. He stares at Napoleon for a long moment, and he doesn’t really look angry anymore. Bemused at Napoleon’s sudden appearance, perhaps, and certainly aggreived by the weather, but not angry.

Abruptly Napoleon realizes how close Illya is standing, his body only inches away, practically boxing Napoleon against the wall. It’s no doubt just so that they hear each other over the howling wind, but it draws their tussle that morning to mind, of how close they’d stood then under very different circumstances. Now the proximity pulls Napoleon’s heart into his throat, and he recalls his partner’s earlier words.

“What do you mean, you didn’t think I’d care?”

Illya hums in response, looking away from Napoleon’s searching gaze, and it makes Napoleon wonder if there wasn’t something more behind Illya’s reaction to the fight this morning. He thinks back to the look on his partner’s face right before he’d left the house and realizes with a start that Illya hadn’t just been annoyed and angry at Napoleon’s words. He’d been hurt.

Fuck. Napoleon winces internally, kicking himself for being such an idiot. Well, there’s only one thing for it.

“Look, I’m sorry about this morning. I pushed it too far, and I should have known better,” he offers. Napoleon desperately wants to reach up and turn Illya’s head, to force his partner to meet his eyes, but it feels like a mistake. Still, he can’t just let this go. “C’mon, Peril. You’re my partner. My… my friend. Of course I fucking care,” he huffs, and then adds quitely, before he can stop himself, “probably more than I should.” Christ. Hopefully the wind swallowed that up before Illya could hear it. He wipes a hand over his face, a futile gesture in the storm. “You think I’m not going to worry when you disappear in the middle of a hurricane?”

“Typhoon,” Illya corrects automatically, and Napoleon can just see the corner of his mouth pull up in a small smile. He can’t help but chuckle at that, and it finally brings Illya’s face back up to look at him. “It’s ok, Cowboy. I am sorry too. You did not know, and instead of saying something, I snapped. It is… difficult for me, sometimes. I am not accustomed to sharing these days with others. With people I— I care about.”

There’s something heavy in Illya’s gaze, and Napoleon gets the feeling that there’s more to his words than it seems at first blush. For a moment the world dims around them—even the driving rain and the howling wind—and he is lost in the glacial blue depths of his partner’s eyes.

“I’m sorry Illya,” Napoleon breathes, and this time he’s not sure if it’s still an apology for what he did this morning, or for what he’s about to do now.

Before he can think better of it, he pushes forward, closing the narrow gap between them and sealing their mouths together. Illya is frozen in place, his lips cold and wet from the rain, and briefly Napoleon considers that this is probably the stupidest thing he’s ever done. Even more stupid than going out in the middle of a typhoon. But then, astoundingly, Illya is kissing him back, his lips parting to let Napoleon’s tongue slide into the heat of his mouth as his body presses forward, pinning Napoleon to the wall. And oh, this is everything he imagined, and nothing like he could have imagined at all.

Napoleon throws his arms around his partner’s waist, pulling him even closer, aching for the warmth of his body that’s radiating through their sodden clothes. One of Illya’s hands tangles in his hair as the other carefully cups his jaw, far more gentle than most would have ever guessed the Russian could be. It’s not a surprise to Napoleon, though, not anymore; Napoleon, who has seen those hands gingerly care for his partners’ wounds, who has seen them tenderly tuck a blanket around Gaby when she falls asleep on the plane (the first time he’d woken to find himself so tucked had been a bit of revelation), who has seen them delicately folding pierogi in a warm, cozy kitchen.

Which is not to say that Illya is not kissing him with enthusiasm. He sucks at Napoleon’s lips and licks past his teeth, and Napoleon has to admit he’s impressed. Of course Illya would be as good at this as he is at everything else. Napoleon would think it unfair that one man could be so talented in so many things, if he wasn’t currently the beneficiary of such talents. It makes him want to know what else Illya is secretly talented at, and the thought sends a warm tug of desire curling low in his stomach. It’s only exacerbated by the feeling of the long line of Illya’s body pressed tightly against his and the way their clothes are clinging to every part of them, leaving very little to the imagination.

Of course, at that point Illya moves on to suck and bite at the tender skin of Napoleon’s neck, and Napoleon’s resulting gasp ends with him sputtering through a mouthful of rain. Right. They are still standing outside in a tropical cyclone.

“Peril— ungh, Illya, wait—” Napoleon groans, trying to ignore the surge of disappointment that floods through him when Illya pulls back. “The weather. We should— gotta get out of this hurricane—”

“Typhoon,” Illya smirks wryly. “Typhoon, Christ, whatever. You have somewhere to shelter nearby?”

Illya nods, an unbelievably soft smile on his face, and leans in briefly to kiss him again. “This way, Cowboy.”

He takes Napoleon by the hand and leads him further down the alley to a side door that’s already unlocked. The light from the parts of the windows that aren’t covered is barely enough to illuminate the interior, but the space appears to be full of tables and long, plush booths. A restaurant, then. A moment later Illya’s lighter flares to life and he lights a small collection of candles that he’s apparently managed to scrounge up somewhere.

“Guess we’re spending the night here, then,” Napoleon says as he sits down in one of the booths, bouncing once on the cushion. “Could be worse.”

Illya grunts in agreement as he peels off his jacket and hooks his soaked hat over the back of a chair, and the way the warm glow of the candle light illuminates the thin shirt clinging to his torso makes Napoleon’s mouth go dry. Then Illya catches him staring and smirks knowingly.

“However shall we pass the time?” Napoleon asks, trying for smooth nonchalance and all but failing. All his charm and skill at seduction fleeing him in the face of something that matters.

Illya’s grin turns wolfish at that, and he stalks purposefully over to Napoleon before neatly straddling his lap. Without the distraction of the wind and rain the sensation is nearly overwhelming, so surely no one could blame him for the way his breath catches in his throat when Illya leans down, lips brushing the shell of Napoleon’s ear, and murmurs, “I have a few ideas.”

_________

I've never been blown by the winds of a hurricane Never been in a flood I've never been buried up to my neck in mud But I have fallen in love And that's enough Of a natural disaster for me

– “Natural Disaster” by Jeff Tweedy

#napollya #napoleon x illya #napoleon solo #illya kuryakin #tmfu #the man from uncle #the man from u.n.c.l.e.#my fic #asks and answers #prompted

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lovelystarlings · 3 years

Text

Chapter Two - Hermione Granger

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When Camille was a little girl, her mother and father used to tell her the tale of Lily Potter; the woman who saved her son with love, the same son who defeated the Dark Lord and survived the killing curse. Camille never realised that Harry Potter was the same age as her, nor did she realise how young he was when he defeated the Dark Lord. So as she sat opposite him, she gained an insane amount of respect for him.

"I thought Fred and George were just joking around but, god you're him?" Ron spoke, his eyes wide in anticipation as he leant forward at the same time as Camille slammed her book shut and got up, squashing next to the two boys; much to the embarrassment of Ron who was heavily blushing once again.

"Have you got the, um, you know?" He pointed to Harry's forehead.

Harry nodded and pulled his bangs back to show the lightning scar that sat right in the middle of his forehead.

"Is that where the Dark Lord, you know?" Camile uttered out quietly, not wanting to offend the boy in anyway but curious, as any person would be, as to how he survived the ultimate curse.

"Yes," Harry replied, "But I don't remember it very much. Some green light but nothing else."

"Wow," said Ron. He sat and stared at harry for a few minutes than snapped his head back to the window, realising what he was doing.

"So you two must know loads about magic already." Harry spoke, looking at Camille, who hadn't really spoken to much.

"Oh yes," Camille spoke, her hands falling into her lap to fiddle with her cardigan ends, she hated small talk. "In France I was lucky to be tutored by the headmistress of my older sister's school, Beauxbaton's. My mother insisted I wasn't behind with my education, so she had me start reading and learning a year early." She explained, both boys leaning forward, her French accent making it impossible not to listen.

"Though I heard you had to live with muggles, how was it?" She spoke, instantly regretting her question when a look of despair flashed across the boy's face before he covered it with a mask of tranquillity. "Yeah that must have been terrible. My mums got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him." Ron began, Camille suspected that the Weasley's were one of the Sacred Twenty Eight, the twenty eight pure-blooded wizarding families, unfortunately the Delacour's were not a part of that twenty eight due to her grandmother being veela and her grandfather being a pureblood therefore leading to her mother being a half blood, breaking the Sacred Twenty Eight rules.

"Muggles are horrible -well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish I'd had three wizard brothers or a wizard sister."

"Witch sister actually Harry, if you're gonna be a wizard you have to get the pronouns right."

"Five, actually" said Ron. For some reason, he was looking gloomy, but Camille supposed so would she if she had five versions of Fleur, one was quite enough. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left -- Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good mark's and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

He gently took the rat that had previously been asleep off of his lap to display to the group. "His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff - I mean, I got stupid old Scabbers instead." Ron's ears went pink. He seemed to think he'd said too much, because he went back to staring out of the window.

Harry began to speak about his experience with muggles, how he had hand me down everything, and how he lived in a cupboard under the stairs, and how his aunt and uncle practically treated him like slave, or rather a house elf, Camille thought. Ron seemed to cheer up at the news that he wasn't the only unfortunate one in the carriage, and when both boys looked at Camille, as it were her turn to share the pity party, she froze. Despite having the perfect life to others, she had suffered from anxiety since she was a child due to an event that she wasn't quite ready to share just yet.

"My parents have always favoured my older sister over me, and it hurts you know. It's always about her, and her feelings, and how she succeeds, and sometimes I feel like I shouldn't be here you know? Like if my parents don't truly love me than who will. I mean they do all these things for me so they look good and fair enough but sometimes I wish they treated me like Fleur, and not some random that lives with them. Even when Fleur's boyfriend rap-" She cut herself off, her eyes beginning to water as she remembered how her parents had treated her after that. Her sister was just a loving as always, but naïve to the hardships that some faced, as she had never faced them herself.

Looking up at the two she felt a hand on her knee, Harry's hand to be specific.

"You don't have to carry on, it's okay." He spoke, Ron nodding in agreement, trying to find something to distract the poor girl.

"Hey look! We're out of London!" The redheaded boy pointed out the window as the trio smiled at the endless evergreen that surrounded them. They were finally on their way to Hogwarts.

Timed past quickly, and at half past twelve a faint knock was heard on the door of the compartment, waking Camille suddenly from her sleep, the book that had been rested on her face banging loudly as it fell to the floor, Camille bending down to pick it up awkwardly.

A smiling elderly woman poked her head around the sliding door gently, Harry and Ron already starting to thorough through their pockets for change. Camille assumed this was the trolley lady.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?"

Ron made the decision to stay sat down and pulled out a bag of sandwiches that Mrs Weasley had obviously made, the French girl melting inside at the sweetness of his mother. He stared at the girl strangely, as if he expected her to get up like Harry.

"I left my money in the trunk," she shrugged, before going back to her book. She didn't need to eat anyway, as her mother had told her countless times.

Hearing a gasp from Ron, she lifted her head to see Harry return, arms filled with everything you could think off; chocolate frogs, every flavoured beans, blowing gum, pumpkin pasties (Camille's personal favourite) and cauldron cakes. He had basically bought out the whole trolley, making Ron's sandwiches look inferior compared to his full course meal or rather dessert.

"Bloody hell Harry. Hungry, are you?" Camille spoke, but was silent soon after as her stomach chose the wrong to rumble loudly, most likely the result of skipping breakfast and lunch.

"Bloody hell Camille. Hungry, are you?" Harry spoke mockingly, after taking a huge bite of his pasty and causing crumbs to spray everywhere.

"Harry!" Camille scolded, whipping her napkin out of her pocket to wipe off the crumps that had landed in her lap. "You never talk with your mouthful, it's vulgar!" She muttered to herself, Harry and Ron began to laugh at her antics as she furiously wiped her dress down, and threw the napkin onto the seat beside her, stomach rumbling once again.

"Camille?"

"Yes." The girl said frustratingly, blowing a stray hair that had fallen on to her forehead away, looking at the boy who lived in annoyance. She despised bad etiquette. "Would you like a pastry, in return for forgiveness for my devastatingly terrible manners in front of a lovely lady like you?" An annoying tone of confidence dripped from his words as Harry held out his hand, in it a pumpkin pastry.

"Well," Camille spoke slowly, hand reaching over to Harry's, "They are my favourite."

"You too, Ron. I'm not just gonna leave you with a beef sandwich." The boy who lived spoke, pushing a pasty over to the ginger boy. It was nice feeling, Camille thought as the three sat there munching their way through the endless pile of sweets, Mrs Weasley's homemade sandwiches far forgotten.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills. Excitement built in Camille, making her rather giddy as she thought of their arrival at Hogwarts.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and a round-faced boy with shaking hand entered. He looked tearful, and Camille felt the need to give him a hug.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, surprisingly loud considering they were on a train full of people, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"Well I'm sure he'll come back soon," spoke Camille in a matter of fact way, "We're on a train it's not like he can get far!"

"Yes, I suppose he will." The boy spoke miserably, before leaving their cabin in a hushed manner, heading straight to the opposite compartment, asking them the exact same question he had asked them.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron, patting the rat on his lap aggressively. "If I'd brought a toad, I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought useless old Scabbers, so I can't really talk."

"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look..." He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.

"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway."

He had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again. The toad less boy had returned, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes, her puffy brown hair and front crooked teeth noticeable. But Camille thought that she was quite pretty.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. Ah, thought Camille, so Neville's his name.

"We already told him we haven't seen it but we'll let him know if we do." Camille spoke softly, pitying the poor boy, Neville, she corrected herself, who still had tears pouring down his cheeks.

The girl however seemed distracted at the sight of a wand, a smile appearing on her face as she began to step further into the compartment, sitting herself down next to Camille. "Are you doing magic? Show us then." Ron seemed taken aback at forwardness of the brunette girl, who had made herself comfortable nest to Camille, even going as far to rest gently on her shoulder; Camille had found her new best friend.

"Uh-ok?" He cleared his throat. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

Nothing happened, and Camille just had to let out a tiny giggle, not noticing the looks she gained from Harry and the girl beside her.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard - I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough - I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you." She spoke extremely fast, Camille having issues simply catching her name.

Hermione. Camille thought. That's pretty.

"Oh, w-well thank you I guess." Camille was just about as red as Ron's hair. She hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"Um you're welcome. I'm Camille." She locked eyes with the bushy haired girl, immediately looking away when she saw Hermione was as red as she was.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered, his mouth once again stuffed with food.

"Harry Potter," said Harry.

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course - I got a few extra books. for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

"Am I?" said Harry, feeling dazed.

"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. "Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad. Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You three had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #hermione granger #hermione granger x reader #hogwarts #hermione #harry #veela #fleur delacour #fluff

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simp4cas · 4 years

Text

It Was Never Us

Dean Winchester × Reader

Chapter 0 | Prologue

Characters: Dean Winchester, Arthur Ketch, Charlie Bradbury and some dick angels :)

Summary: Dean visits the Acopalyptic Universe in search of Mary and Jack with Arthur Ketch. There he sees someone he hadn't seen in more than seven years.

Warning: Death

It Was Never Us Masterlist

Credit to @talesmaniac89 for this cool anti possession text divider

Dean walks ahead of Ketch, ducking under the dead branches of trees and plants as he passes under the bridge, the stream beside him flowing quietly. Apocalyptic world was definitely no party- there was hardly anyone there and it gave him an odd feeling. He sighs at the decayed body tied to a tree with barbed wires, the rotting smell invading his lungs. This world wasn't as dark as his nightmares but it was scary enough.

The Winchester looks sideways at Ketch, already wishing Sam, his brother was here with him. Especially since Ketch was wearing a black tactical suit that made him look like an idiot.

"Well, this is quite the vacation spot, isn't it?" Ketch says and walks up to stand beside Dean as the two of them looked at the expanse of the forest before them, not knowing the way around the world. They didn't know where to go- Dean was hoping they would have seen someone- anyone to ask for help but it was barren.

"Yeah, if you had your heart set on Mai Tais, well," Dean pauses, taking a breath, "sorry." He turns to Ketch. He freezes for a second when he sees a few people walking on the bridge.

"Is this everyone?" The leader asks and another man answers with a, "Yes, commander."

"For high crimes for fermenting rebellion against the archangel, Micheal, these humans shall be executed."

Behind a few men dressed in camo, there were four people with black woolen cloths pulled over their heads and shackles around their wrists. "Down, down. Get down," Dean whispers and pushes Ketch back, them both hiding behind some dead bushes. He looks back up, noticing that each hostage had a man dressed in camo holding their arm. Finally, they come to a stop in the middle of the bridge and stop, the hostages forming a line in front of who seemed the leader of the men.

Angels. Obviously, it would be those dicks. The angel who looked like the 'commander's' assistant, walks towards one of the people.

Since the woman who's bag had been pulled off her head was standing the furthest from where Dean was, he could only see above her shoulders through the railings of the bridge. It was enough to see the angel place his hand on her forehead and burn her eyeballs out.

The woman's shouts makes something click inside Dean and he moves to stand up from his kneeling position and to open up the duffel bag at his side to get his angel killing bullets out. "Freakin' angels," Dean grits out. He had come to this world before but didn't think things would be that...bad.

But executions like these? He wondered what else angels- Micheal had done to them. Ketch's hand flies to Dean's arm, pulling the Winchester back down and shaking his head he says slowly, "Not. Smart." Gritting his teeth, Dean looks back up, his hands aching to kill the angels.

Another person's bag was pulled off and he was dead in a matter of seconds. There were only two left on the bridge now. Both women by the looks of it. The angel moves to the second last person, pulling off her bag too.

"No," Dean mutters, taking in the red hair, the cheekbones. It couldn't be. Dean looks on with wide eyes and heart thumping in his chest as the leader angel stops the other one from killing her. "Charlie?" Dean asks to no one in particular.

"I know you," the leader angel says, taking a step forward towards Charlie. "You're not the usual human scout."

Human scout?

"Not the sickest hookup line, Captain Charm," Charlie says back loud enough for Dean to hear. He could see the small smile playing on her lips.

"You're with the Resistance," the angel remarks again, enunciating his words carefully. "Inner circle." The angel turns back to look at his second-in-command, only removing his eyes off Charlie for two seconds. "She's met with the Nephilim and the other worlder- Mary."

Oh shit. She met with them. For some reason, Dean's heart soared with the words- maybe cause it meant that Mary and Jack were safe and alive.

"Micheal will want her at the Northern Camp for interrogation."

"Champ, when the Resistance crushes you, I'm gonna be there to shred your feathers and grind them into dust," Charlie grits out and Dean notices the woman standing next to her struggling with her shackles slightly before the angel lunges forward and chokes the red-head. Dean gnashes his teeth together, trying to get up again and make that son of a bitch regret touching Charlie when Ketch pulls Dean down again and says his name to him in a warning tone.

"Looking forward to it," the angel replies and looks to the last hostage on the bridge before turning to one of the angels standing behind her and saying, "Kill her." With that, he and a few more left with Charlie, leaving behind only the last woman and an angel. Dean needed to save Charlie. He would save her this time. But he also had to save the woman on the bridge.

The dark-skinned angel pulls the bag off the woman's head and Dean's heart stops. The whole world seemed to stop as he took in who was standing there. Someone he hadn't seen in more than seven years. "Y/n?"

"Do you know everyone here?" Ketch whispers irritatedly but Dean ignores him. He takes another breath in.

"He's going to kill her," Dean grits out and this time, Ketch doesn't stop him from getting his gun out and standing up.

"Hey, I'm part of the Resistance too," Y/n says, taunting a reaction from the angel with his hand a few inches from her forehead. "Inner circle." Dean took a step forward, not wanting to let the angel know he was there but to get close enough to get a clean shot at the man and not at Y/n.

The angel didn't react- didn't have a chance to before Dean shouted, "Y/n! Duck!" Not even questioning it, Y/n drops to the ground, as if she knew someone was going to save her- shout those words.

Three bullet shots echo in the air, the loud bang making Dean's ears ring slightly. He sees the angel fall down and without waiting for Ketch or turning back to get his duffel bag, he ran. He ran, clawing the barks of trees to run up the steep slope to get to the bridge. If it was actually Y/n who he saw then...

Taking a deep breath, he takes a step forward onto the concrete bridge, steps faltering when he sees Y/n standing up, the chains on her arms restricting her movement. She immediately spots him standing there and takes a step back from him. Dean knew his mouth was hanging. He knew it yet he didn't close it. He knew his eyes were widened yet he made no move to narrow them. He didn't know what to do except for looking stupidly at her. A part of him frowned at how she didn't say his name in the way he loved, soft, and happily. But she didn't know him. Didn't know about them. How they were before...

Meanwhile, Y/n was assessing the situation. She looked between the gun in the man's hand and the dead angel's body sprawled on the bridge along with the other two people. "Who are you?" she finally asked, taking a deep breath when she realized that the man had saved her. But the way he was looking at her made her uncomfortable and she took a small step back, suddenly feeling weak and vulnerable with no weapons and handcuffs on her wrists.

"My name is Arthur Ketch." Dean turns back, breaking away from his trance to see the ex British Man of Letters walking towards them, hands up to show he had no weapons. Dean turns back to Y/n, frowning when he sees she was standing further away from them, face showing fear but her posture straight and almost dominating. "Do excuse my friend," Ketch resumes, helping Dean since he'd forgotten how to speak. "His name is Dean Winchester. Gets quite shy around women," Ketch sighs and Dean rolls his eyes, not bothering to turn back and give him his bitch face.

Y/n glances warily between them, taking another step back when Dean steps forward. She wasn't completely facing them as she took a defensive stance. Knees bend slightly, feet firmly planted in the ground. He widens his eyes, forgetting that she didn't know him. She looked the same as she did all those years ago. The way dug her nails into her palm to calm herself down- as she or Dean's Y/n had. Her lips were parted as she breathed out, eyeing the Winchester.

"Let us help you," Dean says, turning his lips into a small smile to show her she could trust him. She looked frightened though, like prey surrounded by predators.

"Help with what?" She asks and her voice was strong and loud, her eyes slyly looking to the side towards the forest behind her.

"We'll help you save Charlie," Dean answers with no hesitation.

"Dean-" Ketch starts off but Dean puts his hand up to stop him from speaking. He looked as Y/n's eyes widened and she frowned. That meant that she knew Charlie- might've been friends with her too.

"How do you know her?" Y/n asks, taking another small step back.

"We know you too," Dean says before thinking, wincing inwardly when Y/n's eyes narrow. "Y/n Y/l/n. Your parents were Y/m/n and Y/d/n Y/l/n."

Y/n blinks several times but Dean still saw them shining. She licked her lips- once, twice. He wanted to take a step forward and hug her but the situation was to delicate to pull stunts like that. Finally, after what felt like forever to Dean's thundering heart, Y/n meets his eyes, distrust and vulnerability flashing in them.

"How?" It was all she asked, her voice breaking slightly. It was just one word but Dean knew what she meant.

The Winchester turned back to face Ketch for a second before looking back at Y/n, not knowing where to start.

Hey guys! This is the first time I'm posting one my stories on Tumblr. I'm really hoping y'all like it!!

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zwiezraczek · 4 years

Text

Lover [Blurb]

Part 3: Player - Part 4

Note: It has been almost two months since I updated the Believer blurb! But now, here we are with the final part! I hope you'll enjoy it! Especially you, 🐼 Nonnie! 💕💕💕

~~~

You were sitting on this chair for hours, your muscles sore and your jaw clenched every single time one of the men you once directed took your face between his large fingers, tightening his grip on your cheeks until Billy spoke. With every new confrontation, you could feel your mouth bleed and you became accustomed to blood's taste. And to your father coming to give you food and water in order to have a breaking point for Billy, and probably because he still loved you somehow. But you couldn't figure out how.

You closed your eyes. You wished a painless death, because this became too much. Did you spent hours, days or weeks there? You had lost count. The harsh source of light was your only sun, and your moon became this little light they had put in the basement when nobody was there for a longer moment. And during these moments, you imagined yourself kicking their asses, with Billy and escape from there. He whispered a countless number of times that he was sorry about all of this, dragging you into this matter was probably his biggest mistake he said. But you had to open your eyes one day, and you preferred this way than any other.

“Y/N,” he said, as one of the guard left his position for a moment.

“What,” you asked, with a weakened voice and a your throat dry.

“Do you regret being my friend sometimes?” And even in the darkness, you could sense how this question burned his lips and made him wince.

“You're really asking me this, there, while you're living your best life with your BDSM kink,” you snapped in a lower tone in order to keep your voice consistent. “I regretted being your friend, when I found out that you lied about your death, but otherwise never.”

“You don't hate me for what's happening to you?” And before you could reply, you heard gunshots coming from outside the basement.

“What the hell,” you whispered.

Men seemed to be running through the corridors, heavy steps and heavy guns and you knew that this never meant anything good. But you were useless here, and you couldn't even save yourself from there. Neither could Billy with his kinky stuff. You closed your eyes, if you had to die now, you prayed the lord for a painless death.

Somebody opened the door, the light hitting your eyelids and you forced them to open again. You saw an impressive figure in the frame of the door, with a gun in each hand groping around for a switch. And when they finally found it, the basement became this harsh-lighted space again. He ran towards Billy, and you protested, kicking the ground and trying to free yourself from the cuffs, your voice refusing to cooperate in your actions. And then, you saw how calm Billy was when the man detached him and how he almost hugged him.

And then you understood. The Ghosts squad.

The tall masked man came towards you, and knelt right behind your chair.

“We've got you, senorita,” he whispered and you thanked him a countless number of times before getting up and walking, slowly towards the exit. He let you put your hand over his shoulder as he saw you struggling. “What did they do yo you?”

“Ugly shit,” you replied exhaling as walking became even harder than it was before.

“Four, you're doing alright,” he asked Billy and your bestfriend nodded vigorously.

“Have been worse, just take care of her Three,” he said as he looked at you, pain in his eyes.

“Don't worry Four, we're getting out of here,” he said with a smirk.

You noticed that Billy had a gun in his hands, and how much you wished to be less useless and to grab a gun and kill all of these man around, in a furious rage asking for blood. And even more blood than you could imagine. Patiently, the three of you made their way out of your house, with your help now, directing your small group towards the exit of this hell of a house. In the car, somebody was already waiting for you – you recognized the French woman's hair when you sat on the backseat. You closed your eyes for a moment, as you heard the rattle of the engine. You have had enough of all of this. You just hoped you were free.

And as soon as you entered the Ghost's place, Five greeted both of you by making you lay down in order to examine you. Apparently, you were the one who was the most injured of the two of you. Five left Billy on his bed, and came towards you to examine your stomach on to make sure that the bruises you had weren't the sign of internal bleeding, and even if it did hurt when she pressed her hands against your stomach, you seemed to be good, butextremely tired. Way more than Billy.

But then, a rush, you heard someone say to hurry up because Seven was shot. You closed your eyes, and for the first time in a long moment, you slept without any real preoccupation.

~~~

“Look who's here, with us,” One teased while he saw you entering the room, “our best solution and our biggest problem!”

You spent the past week laying down on one of the couched they had in their meeting room, trying to recover mentally from what had happened to you. You were first kidnapped, then you discovered that your bestfriend wasn't dead and that you killed a bitch for – almost – nothing, then you learned that your own father supported children traffic, and your father himself made sure to punish you once you dared to step up against him when you helped the Ghosts and you had to pay for it the highest price, but apparently Billy suffered the most because of it. And finally, you landed there, with the Ghosts, without any promise for your future, without any true hope.

The only little thing that had kept giving you a little light, was Billy. He stayed with you as much as he could – while he wasn't by Seven's side, Seven who got shot badly but recovered pretty quickly - talking to you, apologizing for what you dragged you into, again. But you didn't regret what had happened, you even enjoyed knowing that you contributed to something “good”. Something that wasn't your first thought, because what once was on your mind was murder, fun and money. But your little adventure taught you something about yourself, that even when somebody was rotten to the very core, they had feelings and weaknesses. Yours were children, your father's you and Billy's you too. But your father was gone now. Along with a lot of his personal guards, the ones knowing about the basement situation – because you could swear that he wasn't able to tell everybody that you betrayed him, ha had to come up with some excuse for your sudden disappearance, and the Ghosts found out that you just ran out, and probably died somewhere, which was pretty much convenient.

And now, you stood among them all, as they spoke about the rest of their plan. You couldn't believe how much had changed in so little time.

“I never wanted to be part of this,” you retorted before standing next to Billy.

“But turns out you're one of us now,” One said with a forced expression as you blinked looking at Billy first. “We've discussed about this, and we can't just let you go into the wild while knowing about us...”

“And because somebody will probably try to kill her,” Billy insisted while looking insistingly at One.

“Yeah, yeah,” One brushed him off, “so, basically we decided you should be part of our team.”

“You're joking,” you blurted, hardly believing what you had heard. The man who called you a 'good girl' once, while you were tied up sitting on a metallic chair said that you were now part of his squad? Impossible.

“Do I look like the Joker,” he asked you while pointing his serious face. You were tempted to say yes.

“Yes you do,” Two said and One just groaned but before he could say anything she continued. “We fucked up your life badly, so the least we can do is to give you another life.”

“Poetic, but not what I was going for,” One remarked. “I was about to say that she had value, and that probably she knew way more than we do about our next target but go on, Two, the floor's yours!”

“I'm in,” you finally said, and Billy looked at you with a little smile, “I don't have any other choice, and I probably can help you with many things, it's good to be bad but maybe it'sbetter to serve a better cause.”

“As an ex hitman, I can confirm that it's way better this way,” Three said with a grin as Two rolled her eyes.

“Welcome to the Ghost's family,” Billy whispered as everybody began to talk again about you entering the squad. You could only smile.

~~~

Between missions, you loved to sit in the trailer they had given to you. Your own little place, where you could swear, curse and cry. But mostly, a place where you had to learn to live again. But you weren't alone, Billy was by your side now. And how happy it made you feel, and how relieved you were about all of this. You had your bestfriend back. This was what mattered the most. Even if the price of what you were living was high – as your own father's death that you still couldn't grieve, you couldn't grasp enough courage to grieve him properly without letting your inner rage explode – you were happier than before. Your hunger for blood had stopped, and Three was there to help you as you began to live like somebody normal.

But Billy was your best ally in this game. You could count on him as you never had the opportunity to. During the first nights, he stayed with you, as you held your tears back because everything was too much for you, because it finally had hit you: you were alone again. But he caressed your forehead, kissed it, and reminded you that you would never be alone again. Not on his watch. And often, you would fall asleep between his arms. Feeling safe. And probably loved.

“Y/N,” he whispered during one night, as you had your face against his chest, resting. You only hummed in response. “You don't hate me for what's happening to you?”

“Billy,” you groaned as you pulled away a little from him, “I don't, I promise. I'm thankful I had the chance to find you and to feel freer than be...”

“But you had a stable life,” he cut you mid-sentence, and you could feel his anxiety grow as he spoke. “You had everything you ever wanted and could wish for, and with the Ghosts we destroyed it all because of our stupid plan, a plan to save the world... By crushing yours...”

“Billy,” you whispered as you put your hand on his cheek, rubbing it with your fingertips now. “I'm not regretting anything, and I don't hate you Billy. I will never hate you, I promise. I love you too much to hate you,” the words naturally flowed out your mouth and you hoped that he wouldn't catch it.

“I love you too, y/n, that was why I couldn't bear see you suffering when I died or not so long ago hen they wanted to have information from me,” he said, his eyes glistening in the dark. You felt yourself attracted towards him, your moth making its way towards him before you kissed him, delicately. You never knew how much you wanted this moment until it happened. His lips were soft, and he pulled you closer against him.

“I think the lucky bastard was right,” you whispered as you thought about the man who had mocked you when you spoke with Billy during your captivity, “I do have an undying love for you, Billy”

“And so do I, y/n.”

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