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yandere-kokeshi · 4 months

Note

Hi! I hope you're having a nice day

I'm just wondering if you can make a yandere ghost or price with a s/o who has a other boyfriend fic?

Thanks<3

(if you don't have time for this, it's okay)

— Such Waste

Warnings: Yandere behavior, stalking, suggested age gap, swearing, talks about reader who grew up in an abusive family; current-bf is abusive/has an unhealthy relationship; reader is slightly naive, violence, and detailed blood..

A/N: this one was pretty hard for me to finish so sorry if it's dull or simply not well; I'm not very happy with it lmao. Enjoy! :]

Inserting the key into the door with a small click!, and opening it to your usually, scattered apartment, you sighed — heavily.

Today was grueling. Not only was your work office incredibly demanding, but it was possibly draining what was left of your very soul. Your bones and stiff muscles were hurting. Begging for you to get more sleep than having 2 – 4 hours of naps every day.

You took off your shoes by the front door and put your belongings on the table; re-footing your steps backwards, to put your keys on the bookshelf for remembrance. Though, you were rudely interrupted as your phone buzzed multiple times, and you let out yet another sigh.

In your bones, you had a feeling — an immediate feeling of who it was.

Grabbing your phone in the back pocket, you whisked it out and typed in your passcode before seeing multiple, if not, tons of missed calls and text messages from your current boyfriend.

Liam: Are you srsly ignoring me? It was a joke. — sent at 8:23 pm

Liam: baby, come on. You passed your break. Just answer me. — sent at 8:57 pm

Liam: answer the fucking phone! Are you dumb? Pick up the phone!!!! — sent at 9:21 pm

Liam: if you don’t answer, it's over. — sent at 11:48

You rolled your eyes, feeling anger rise in you again. You chose to send a small message. Who would’ve thought the blue-eyed, blond hair and a tooth gap combo of a man would be the best fit? Not you, apparently.

You: Got caught up with work. Sorry, we can talk more about this tomorrow. I’m gonna head to bed. Night. — sent at 12:19 pm

While Liam was a nice guy, he was slightly controlling and immature. Always wanted to know who or where you were, why you were hanging out with people he didn’t know, and if you loved getting unwanted attention. Sometimes, fights got so bad that your elderly neighbors had to call the police to separate the two of you for a few nights.

Poor Lucy. Wonder how she still deals with you being next door.

Groaning, you put your phone back into your back pocket, before your hands rubbing over your face in exhaustion.

Not only was your boss extremely cranky and rude today, but everyone was on edge due to his behavior. You couldn’t even talk to your coworkers without them using the excuse of ‘I have to leave’ whenever he steps foot into the room. Plus, the stress of bills, your current boyfriend, and the harassment was getting to your breaking point.

God, you hated this job. But it paid your bills. That’s all you cared about, right?

You scoffed, feeling your back prick and pop in places that sounded like it shouldn’t. Looking at the fridge in your kitchen, you slumped over and walked over to it, talking to yourself as you opened it, reaching down for the leftover pizza box that you didn’t get to finish last night.

Barely eating a few pieces, you were already heading down the hallway to your bedroom, peeling off your sweaty work clothes. However, something stopped you in the tracks that made your heart jump right out of your chest and into your mouth.

Roses. Roses were on your bed. Sure, it was beautiful. The lilac, reddening color shining in your room was gorgeous.

But who put them there?

You stared at them. Who the hell was in your apartment? Was it maintenance? Maybe a surprise gift they gave out for people living here in the poor-run down apartments?

No. It couldn’t be. Rarely do they ever give you things — especially flowers. What and who the fuck?

“Do you not like them?”

You jumped at the sudden rough voice, dropping your pizza on the floor and whipping around, seeing a giant man sitting in your favorite chair in the corner of your bedroom; wearing a thick, menacing skull balaclava, piercing your skin like a knife.

“Who… the fuck are you!” you shouted. Your feet stepped back, watching him as he repositioned himself — his elbows now resting on the armrests of the chair, and leaning forward into the obvious comfy chair. You couldn’t help but judge the guy. Who wears a skull mask other than on Halloween? Was he a killer? Going to slice you—!

“I would think you’d know that with the stuff I gave you.”

A chill ran down your spine. So was this — no, this was the guy.

The man who left your favorite chocolate on your window seal each morning, the sweet notes of compliments, sometimes bearing suggestions on things you should wear that day. And the huge bouquet on the front door, which was soon transported to your dinner-table, that was left every Friday.

Oh, my g-d.

“Holy shit,” you gasped, finally looking at his outfit, seeing the Britain flag sewed on his Khaki pants. It’s military. What the fuck did you do? “Did I break the law?” you hushed out, terrified at the man.

However, the man in front of you snickered. “Doubt you’d have the guts to break the law, sweetheart.”

“I– what?” you looked at him dumbfounded. Who the fuck was this guy?

“Ya’ heard me, only have a speeding ticket,” he remarked, making you dart your eyes toward behind you to the hallway, seeing the front door before back at him. “Pretty impressive for your age, if ya’ ask me.”

Your brain short-circuited. “How… do you know that?” you posed, feeling your breathing quicken. “I have so many questions,” you added. But yet, the man stared at you with his darkening eyes. Didn’t help that your room was dimmed. You really should’ve fixed that light.

He stared at you before speaking up. “Bet ya’ do. I’m all answering them as long as you get rid of that cunt of a boyfriend.”

“E… ‘cuse me?” you stammered, taking another step back. But, your anger got ahead of you; your eyebrows knitted against each other. “I can assure you that he treats me well.”

Though, the man just scoffed and stood up as your throat closed at the sight of the man. Why the fuck was he so tall? “Sure. Keep imagining that sick fantasy image of yours, and you’ll wake up in the hospital with a broken nose.”

You wanted to defend yourself. But he was right. Breaking your index finger hurts like a bitch. The frequent fights were exhausting. The last time you tried talking with Liam about visiting a close friend an hour away ended up with his hand reaching out towards your wrist, twisting it with a large sprain and a large hospital bill.

The yelling. The self-blame. The hours of constant harassment with texts and calls. The horrible smell of booze. You really fucked up your love life, didn’t you?

“But,” he started, a thick accent voicing in as he stepped closer into your direction. “I can treat you better, love. Someone who won’t hurt ya. Treat you like the doll you are.”

You narrow your eyes at him, nervously biting at the inside of your cheeks as you wait for him to continue.

“I’ll make sure to treat you well. Something you haven’t been lucky to feel. Your parents were mean towards you, no?” he asked questionably, and it made your heart drop to your stomach. “But, I can take care of you; better than anyone has.”

So many questions raced through your mind as your eyes darted at the floor then back toward the man. Like a rabbit, you stiffened. Confused. Body shaking as the predator approached.

“I don’t… even know who you are,” you replied, tightening your hand into a fist. Your heart was speeding, hands and legs shaking with fear. Your throat stiffened. He could clearly see it — and yet somehow, his eyes got softer; those brown pupils having a sad and apologetic look. Almost like a dog trying to comfort you.

You don’t know you’re crying until you feel a gloved thumb wipe them away, causing you to flinch. Realizing that the man was now in front of you, you tried to step back, but your ankle hit the bedroom wall, securing you in a close habitat.

But, with everything going on, you didn’t have the energy to push him away nor look up at him. Continuing to look at the floor as your mind circled around on whom the fuck was this man?

“Look at me, will ya’?”

You hesitated. Didn’t reply. But as he said your name, a shiver traveled down your spine, and you looked at him – his predominant features coming in. Even with your anxiety and fear swirling in your stomach, you looked at the creases in his eyebrows, the clashing scars near his temple, eyes, and brows. His jarring eyes surrounded by black eyeshadow, seemingly gentler, almost like they were trying to welcome you into a trap.

You stare up at him with half-lidded eyes. And with a gasp, you felt his hand take your chin, his palm almost eclipsing the lower half of your face, and turn your head right into the direction he wanted you to: staring at him in the eyes.

“I promise. I’m not going to hurt you,” he reassures, though, it doesn’t help as more tears drowned down on your behalf.

And yet, you couldn’t fathom his words.

“I don’t–” you started, taking a deep and sharp inhale, “–trust you, I don’t even know your name. How can I know you’re… not some, serial killer?” your question was weak. And stupid. But it was the only thing you could think of out of the bluster.

His eyes narrowed at your reply before answering at your ‘plea’.

“I suppose that’s a start,” he huffs.

You looked at his eyes, before narrowing down at the mask. And clearly, by your eyes and non-answer, he nodded at your invisible ask.

Stepping back, the man’s hands traveled to lift the mask upwards. He revealed the point of his chin, the skin equally rough, like his demeanor.

He didn’t stop from continuing, exposing more of his lower lip. The skin there was rugged and scarred, little creases in the flesh. Scars that made your heart thud awkwardly. At his cupid’s bow, where you saw a huge scar, it made you gasp quietly out of wincing. The thick mark going upward on his left lip, so callused and rough. It looks like it still hurts.

Finally, he pulled the mask fully off, revealing his natural-resting face, thick eyebrows, and the two large scars right above his filled brows. It helped a bit that he revealed himself, but you were still unsure how to… understand the situation.

He said your name, and it made you look at him. “Rest your worries when you’re by me, yeah?”

Those words fell into your stomach and twisted like a towel being squeezed. Though, somehow, in a way, you felt safer. A hesitant silence settles between you both, before you decide to speak up.

“Y–ou won’t hurt me?”

Those stunning brown eyes take a moment to gaze into yours, searching something deeper in your meaning. Instead, all you could muster was eye contact that kept flickering to the floor and trying to calm your quickened breathing.

“What kind of man would I be if I did that, hm?” his voice is airy, tone-flimsy when asking his question.

You swallowed thickly, “I want to know your name.”

“You do know my name, sweetheart,’” he coldly corrected you, “—use that smart brain of yours.”

Seconds blurred by you, trying to think – imagine what could or would be his name. But nothing came up. Nothing came to your brain, which, the man in front of you, hummed in acknowledgment at the state of your confused state.

“Shame you don’t remember,” he started, a smirk curling on his face. “It’s Simon.”

Memories you didn’t know at the time came forward.

Many things are given by that name — your favorite fast food being delivered to your home after a bad day, bouquets in expensive vases being delivered every week; cards given with clothes and money. And somehow, your insurance was now covering things they didn’t.

Oh, and let’s not forget about the lingerie being sent. A note of: I hope to see you wear this tonight. Signed with initials: SR.

At first, you thought it was Liam – but he was a cheapskate. Never liked spending money, especially on you.

Your eyes widened, a bubble trapping itself in your throat — it was him. Police didn’t help, saying something along the lines of, ‘until they hurt you, we can’t do anything’. But when did they ever help?

“So… what do you want, then?” you whisper, suddenly breathless with this proximity. You can see the gold-brown of his eyes clearly, the halo of honey flecks that cover the circumference of his pupil. His eyelashes flutter when he blinks, so pretty and… oddly feminine.

“You.”

And just as he rasped that word, the banging on your front door started. The familiar yelling of Liam drowned out your thoughts, and his screaming made the two of you snap your head in the direction of the front door.

He yelled out your name, and you flinched. Already feeling the bruising grabs, the constant screaming where your ears ring for hours. Oh god, what the hell did you do?

“You– need to leave,” you ushered out, hands and legs shaking for the splinting images that shot through your head.

He was banging on the door, jamming his fists; the handle being shaken so hard that it rattled stuck. It was all too much.

Simon said your name, but you shook your head. Denying his existence. Danger was near, nobody would help save you. He needs to leave, he needs to leave, heneedstoleave—!

He grunted your name louder, and you looked at him with teary eyes; the small rivers turning into full tsunami’s. You couldn’t think. Breathe. He was here. Going to hurt you. He was going to die. So were you.

The door broke, the familiar thundering footsteps shook from across the house. And before you could react, Simon pushed you behind him — shielding you away from your abuser.

“You—!” Liam screamed into the bedroom, a bottle of beer in one hand and his other clenched into a fist; his blue eyes burning into your stomach. You choked out a sob as he stepped further, but stopped at the sight of Simon. For once, Liam looked retched at his own thoughts.

“Who the fuck are you?” he yelled, and the man only narrowed his eyes at Liam; challenging him with his height and quiet demeanor.

“Get the fuck out.” his rough and dark voice sent shivers down your neck, making every hair stand up.

Liam scoffed, a plethora of curses voiced out, before he shut up. Your eyes narrowed, and as you looked at his shocked face, you saw a gun in view next — Simon’s finger gripping the trigger, aiming it at Liam’s head.

Your heart leapt out. Fight or flight mode flicking on.

“Come on, man– we, we’re playing. Right—?” he chuckled out, and Simon grunted.

In the dimmed room, you can see his high cheekbones and the absolute rage that is evident on his face, even hiding behind his mask. His hands are clenched around the gun tightly, finger curling even tighter around the trigger.

“I’m not going to ask again; leave the fucking apartment.”

Liam falsely chuckled, “O-or what? You’ll shoot me? Doubt you have the balls, my… guy.”

Within seconds, the gun went off — making you scream, closing your eyes, and covering your ears. Your fingernails scraped at your ears, making them ring. It hurt, not a single thought. Oh god, what the fuck happened?

“—uck!” was all you could muster before you knelt to the ground, wrapping arms around yourself; teeth clenching down your lips as you felt— tasted blood.

After a few minutes – or seconds – you open them up and find Liam, leaning on the wall for support, bleeding through his arm. There was so much– on the floor, on his hands. His eyes were widened, looking at the man in front of you; anger yet fear rising.

He started hiccuping — more blood dripping down to the floor as he clenched his nearly wound.

“Don’t ever let me see you again.”

Simon’s rough voice of threatening sent shivers down your body. Your breath hitched. Your body starts to shake as your eyes widen. Simon’s threat was enough for Liam to nod instantly, giving you one look before running out; not giving you a second look as it may not leave tonight with his face intact.

You were about to say something, but the man cleared his throat and looked down at your shaking form. “Ya’ okay?”

You looked up at him, slowly nodding. In return, he said nothing, making you feel his eyes take in every detail of you. To your face and pupils, to your shaking legs and ragged breath. Yet, having never meeting you before, he gladly handed over his hand down to you.

Looking up at his scarred hand, you hesitantly looked at it — large fingers, nails scratched and clear hangnails. You didn’t know what to do, other than grab it and strand up with his help.

“Get your things.”

Your eyes narrowed, breath heaving. “Why?”

He looked at you, brown pupils dilated. They were so feminine– pretty. His breath hitched, and a large hand grasped your shoulder.

“Cause’ you’re gona’ be coming with me, forever.”

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking, stay well!!

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kakujis · 9 months

Text

do you love me?; 4

synopsis: they wake you up and ask if you love them. 1 2 3

ft + wc: mistuya, draken, chifuyu. 3k.

warnings: gn!reader, swearing, miscommunication, workaholic bfs, tipsy chifuyu, slightly spicy in drakens! not proofread! thats it LMAO

a/n: hi. it's been a while! i took a writing break and i'm not sure if this means my writer's block is over, but here's the fourth and probably final part of this series (this is a lie im probs gonna write more when s3 comes out LMFAO) anyways, similar themes for mitsuya and draken, while chifuyu's is extra fluffy. the extra fluff was added in for @fuyuluvr btw.

mitsuya takashi has been busy. more so than ever, you’ll find him buried in his work til the early morning hours. this happens every time he’s hit with inspiration for a new runway collection and you often wind up feeling neglected. but mitsuya will always find a way to sneak time with you in, even if it means playing model for a little bit.

his love comes out through his finger tips, when he’s laying the garment over you, light touches over your skin. it comes out in the way he silently works, looking you over every so often, smiling when he notices the way you furiously blush when he lingers for just too long.

but this time is a little different. his fatigue clear on him when he crashes into the bed, mumbling a sleepy “good night” to your “good morning.” it’s jarring, how separate the two of you feel in the shared space of your home.

mitsuya realizes something is wrong the first night you tell him you don’t want to model for him. “it was a long day… i’m just tired.” you had told him, hesitating before you placed a kiss on his forehead. you left shortly afterwards, leaving mitsuya in his office.

the second night you barely touched your dinner, pushing your food around on the plate absentmindedly. when he asked if something was wrong, you told him that you weren’t hungry with a strained smile on your face. “don’t worry about me.”

the final piece locks into place the night you push him away from you when he tries to sneak a kiss. “not now,” you said, unable to look at him, “my breath smells.” you both know it’s a pitiful attempt at a joke, but when he tries to pry, you ignore him. lavender eyes trail after your form, noting the way you bend into yourself as you walk, closed off.

mitsuya’s always allowed you your space and this time is no different. except for the fact that he can’t focus at all, too distracted by the guilt gnawing on his bones. he has a deadline to meet, yet he can’t seem to care when his partner is upset with him.

he removes his glasses before running his hands over his face. he mulls over the apology in his head, before he’s up and heading toward your bedroom. when he arrives, he kneels at your side of the bed, one hand caressing your cheek to rouse you from sleep. when you blink almost awake you’re met with his pretty face, guilt etched into his features.

“taka..?” your voice barely louder than a whisper, you fight against the heaviness of your eyelids, the inherent need to see him reigning over the lull of sleep. you love him after all.

“morning angel,” he starts, dragging his thumb over the curve of your cheek. “i’m sorry.”

you open your mouth to speak, but mitsuya presses a finger against your lips, shaking his head. his silver locks move in tandem, his eyes peeking underneath them as he focuses on the hardwood floor. it’s hard for him to remember what he wanted to say, being in front of you much different than the scenario rehearsed in his head. at the end of the day though, mitsuya is a man of his word, whether it’s to you or himself, he’ll see it through.

he steels himself, looking you straight-on as you blink at him, one hand placed over his. “i’m really sorry.” he reiterates, “for neglecting you. i’m also sorry for not noticing sooner. i shouldn’t have asked you to model for me when i’ve barely spent any time with you… i’m just.. sorry.”

“can i speak now?” you ask, squeezing his hand and he nods. you push yourself up onto your elbows, before placing your hands on his shoulders. “i’m sorry for being selfish.”

he shakes his head, “you’re not selfish, don’t say that. i mean, i could say the same thing right?”

your expression is somber as you respond, “takashi… it’s your job, hon. it’s always been like this, it’s not like this is your first collection either.”

but mitsuya can read you like a book, remembering that with each disagreement, you’ll hide your feelings in favor of his. he knows when you break eye contact, looking away, that you’re not saying what’s really on your mind.

“do you love me?” he asks, before running his finger under the curve of your jawline. when you nod, he tilts your face back upward, forcing you to look at him, “then be honest with me.”

“o-okay…” you sigh, “i hate your job.”

he grins, “that was brutal.” but he still nods, urging you to continue.

“i hate your stupid deadlines and i hate when you’re super busy, because i want to spend time with you. and also, i miss you all the time and by the way, that stupid runway coordinator called your cell and when i answered they hung up immediately! that’s so unprofessional! like, you should be grateful i even answered the damn phone! right?” you huff once you finish your tirade, your feet kicking up and down in annoyance.

mitsuya can’t help but laugh once you’re done, it’s the most animated he’s seen you these past few days. he likes it.

“don’t laugh!” you pout, puffing your cheeks out and your boyfriend has to bite back another laugh.

“no, no, you’re right, how could they hang up on my partner?” he agrees and your face softens. “but damn, i didn’t think you hated my job that much.”

you gasp, freezing for a moment, “ahh, well it’s not like i hate it-“

“you just despise it?” he quips, one eyebrow raised, interrupting you.

“no!” you exclaim, continuing to pout. but you feel lighter, like a weight’s been lifted off your shoulders.

“you feel better?” he asks, taking your hands into his and pressing a kiss to them.

maybe the two of you didn’t exactly solve the problem, but that’s fine, you can never stay upset with him for long.

“a little bit.” you say, before tugging him upwards. “you know what would really make me feel better?”

“hm?” he tilts his head, eyes soft.

“if you cuddled with me.” you respond, tugging at him just a bit harder.

he smiles as he climbs into bed, “as you command, my dear.”

draken:

sometimes, you think ryuguji ken would be better off moving into his bike shop. you don’t mean to be bratty, really, but you can’t help it. the countless nights of him coming home late have been taking a toll on you. it’s been worse since inui’s taken some time off which means draken and shinichiro need to take over, which means less time with your boyfriend.

you check your phone one more time for the daily goodnight text, but when you see none, you quietly turn your phone off and close your eyes to try to get some sleep.

but it hurts, like the prick of a thorn or the sting from a wasp, but you know when draken’s busy, it’s best not to bother him. still, you can’t help the tears that bubble up, spilling over like the flood of a dam as you hug yourself, burying your face into your pillow. when you finally settle, you hope he won’t notice puffiness of your eyes when he comes home. maybe he’ll keep the light off, you hope, as you drift into a deep sleep.

when he finally gets home, smelling distinctly of motor oil, he tries his best to stay quiet, borderline tiptoeing his way to your shared bedroom. as he changes out of his dirty clothes, his eyes naturally trail to your sleeping form. there’s something off.

if there’s one thing about draken, he can pick up on every subtle shift of your mood. after all, draken knows you best.

he knows he should probably shower as you hate the smell of the oil and grease, but his body moves towards you anyway. he turns the bedroom light on before he climbs onto the bed, grabbing you and shaking gently.

“baby?” he calls, watching as your face scrunches up.

“hm? what is it?” you murmur, a little irritated, but you let him turn you over anyway.

“were you crying?” he asks and you force your sleepy eyes open. concern paints his face as he cups your cheek, “what happened?”

“nothin’,” you lie, staring at his chest rather than his face. “i’m just tired.”

“and your eyes are swollen just because?” he cocks a brow, already onto your little lie.

“yep.” you quip, before pushing his hand away and sinking into your pillow. “it doesn’t matter, kenny.”

“except it does,” he replies, moving down with you, “what happened?” he asks again and part of you feels like maybe it’s time to answer. until you remember the big race mikey has coming up, which makes you decide to keep your mouth shut.

draken sighs, “alright, i won’t pry.” he stays there in his dirty clothes, yawning as he stretches and lays back, eyes closed.

you scrunch your nose. “kenny… aren’t you gonna shower?”

“yep.” he says, in the same tone you gave him earlier.

“… and when are you gonna do that?” you press, silently thinking about the laundry you’re going to have to do later.

“when you tell me what’s wrong.” he answers, head leaning back against the headboard. he peeks an eye down at you, smirking at the incredulous look on your face. “what? i said i wouldn’t pry, not that i wouldn’t wait. take your time.”

“and if I decide I won't tell you anything all night?” you ask, slightly sitting up.

“like i said, take your time.” he shrugs.

“you’re …insane.” you scoff, laying back down. you pull the blanket over you, back to him.

“nah, just patient.” he corrects and the two of you fall into another uncomfortable silence.

for the next few minutes, it’s completely quiet and you think draken may have actually fallen asleep sitting up. but when you turn around, you meet his eyes, soft yet concerned. you know that he cares, it’s the essence of your relationship. so maybe, just this once, you could let him know.

hesitantly, you open your mouth to speak. “if i asked you to spend less time at the shop and more time with me… would that be okay?” your voice is low, quiet, and unsure.

instead of answering, he asks,“do you love me?” and you find yourself confused.

“huh? that doesn’t-”

“just answer the question.” he interrupts.

“yes, of course i do.”

“then why wouldn’t it be okay?” he asks, pulling you into his embrace. “i didn’t have to pick up the extra shifts if you didn’t want me to.”

“and leave shin to die from overworking?” you joke, but in actuality, it is a ton of maintenance work.

“why not?” he smirks and you laugh. “ah! there it is, your pretty smile.”

“you stink.” you grumble, pushing away from him. “i’m mad at you.” but your heart betrays you and the pout you try to display is futile as the corners of your mouth curve into a small smile.

“huh? you talkin’ about me or my personality?” draken quips, but he holds onto you tighter as you continue to try to push off. “don’t go anywhere, angel. you’re comin’ with me.”

“what? where are we- ah!” you squeal as he gets up, taking you with him. you quickly wrap your arms around him, clinging tightly.

he smiles, basically beaming and you realize that made you fall in the first place. draken is kind, selfless, even if he may not seem like it at first. he’s always good at making you feel better, even if you don’t tell him.

“to shower,” he answers, starting the trek to the bathroom, “you keep saying i smell.”

“i already showered.” you protest, but you rest your head on his shoulder. “but i guess i do smell like car grease now.”

he stops in his tracks, his mouth pressed into a line. “shit. our bed does too.”

“should we sleep on the couch?” you suggest and he starts moving again.

“or we could crash takemichi’s place.” he says, pushing the bathroom door open with his shoulder.

“and interrupt his precious time with hina?” you muse as he sets you on the counter.

“isn’t that the point?” he asks, turning the water on before coming to slide between your legs, looming over you.

“what about mikey’s?” you ask, your hands naturally coming to help him take off his work jacket.

“fuck no,” he groans, letting you turn him around so you can finish taking it off. “he’s gonna try to cuddle with you again.”

“with us.” you correct and draken rolls his eyes before he shifts out his shirt. he dips down to press a firm kiss to your lips and you smile. “shower time?”

“shower time.”

chifuyu:

chifuyu matsuno curses under his breath as he races up the stairs to your apartment. he’d lost track of time, evening drinking turning into early morning. he hopes you won’t be too upset, hey, maybe he can blame it on baji.

when he gets home, making sure to walk a little quieter, he peeks his head into the bedroom. the light is left on but you’re asleep. his heart thumps a bit more and a blush creeps onto his face when he notices you’ve fallen asleep in his shirt.

his steps are light, springy even, as he makes his way over, plopping into bed beside you. you stir in your sleep as chifuyu watches you, his head leaning into his palm like a schoolboy in love.

“fuyu?” you mumble, as you stretch before turning over to face him. sleepy eyes meet pretty green and chifuyu thinks he’s in a dream... or maybe it’s the alcohol that’s still left in his system.

“hey lover,” he smiles as he scoots closer before pressing a kiss to your cheek. “good morning.”

“what time is it?” you ask, squinting, before adding, “hi to you too.”

“like 3am.” he answers and you hum.

“hm, tonight was that fun?” you yawn, trying your best to fight the drowsiness that's currently over taking your body.

“yeah,” he replies as another peck flits over your cheek. “wish you went with me.” he thinks about how much fun it would have been if you went with him earlier. how he’d love to walk home with you, hand in hand, sneaking kisses under the moonlight.

“‘m sorry, fuyu,” you mumble as your heavy lids close, losing the battle. “i’ll try to go next time..” you trail off as your body lulls you back to sleep.

the blond frowns, as cute as you are asleep, he wants your attention now. “oi, y/n. wake up.” he huffs, using his index finger to poke at your cheek.

when you only make a slight noise, he pokes harder. “wake. up.”

your eyelids flutter under his touch, but they don’t open and chifuyu sighs. “do you love me?” he whines, loudly.

you force your eyelids open at the question, he’s cute when he’s whiny so you indulge him. “yes, chifuyu, i love you a lot.” you mumble, before tipping your lips up into his, giving him a soft kiss.

you realize where the unusual clinginess comes from tonight as he tastes faintly of alcohol. normally, chifuyu would quietly get ready to bed before slipping under the covers to hold you as you slept. he wants you to get your rest and he’s fine with waiting til morning. although, there are some exceptions which almost always include a tipsy, pining boyfriend.

you giggle when he whines as you pull away.

“stay here.” he grumbles, before he’s cupping your cheeks and kissing you again.

“fuyu, i have work in a couple of hours,” you mumble between kisses.

“‘m sobering up,” he responds, “if i don’t do this, i’ll get a hangover.”

“that’s not how it works at all,” you sigh happily, “but okay.”

and so you let him. you let him kiss not only your lips but your cheeks, forehead, and even your neck. you giggle when he ghosts over a particularly ticklish area, but chifuyu is lost in you. lost in your scent, your voice, your everything. until suddenly, he’s not.

“fuyu?” you whisper, your arms laced around him.

there’s no response but the soft snores escaping him as his head is buried in your neck. you can tell he’s asleep by the way his body’s gone limp, the full weight on him bearing down on you. but it’s comfortable like this and you feel sleep beckoning you over.

when morning and inevitably, the time for work comes, you try your best to move out from underneath him without waking up. the soft daylight pours in through the blinds, casting rays on your boyfriend’s sleeping face.

you’re close, almost fully out from underneath him when an arm slings itself across your waist and pulls you back in.

“stay.” he mumbles, voice deep and slightly hoarse from his half asleep state.

“i have work,” you say, gently. “i’ll be back in a few.”

“just call off,” he says, tightening his grip on you.

“chifuyu-“

“please?” he pleads, one eye peeking up at you. the blush on his face this time isn’t from the alcohol.

it tugs at your heartstrings and you give in. “fine. but if i get in trouble you owe me.”

“you know, the pet shop is always hiring if you get fired.” he wiggles his eyebrows, throwing you a cheesy smile.

“ha. ha. very funny.” you retort, rolling your eyes.

but the smile on chifuyu’s face doesn’t disappear, he simply tilts his head to press it against yours.

“i’d take care of you forever, you know.” he says, completely serious and you feel your heart skip a beat.

“i know.” you mumble back, closing your eyes.

“i love you, y/n.” he says and you feel the tip of his nose brush against yours.

“i love you too, chifuyu.” you giggle and he realizes he wants to listen to it for the rest of his life. but he has no ring, he’ll need to remember to get your ring size.

“forever and ever?” he asks, his own heart fluttering to the timbre of your voice.

“forever and ever.”

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #draken x reader #chifuyu matsuno x reader #mitsuya takashi x reader #ken ryuguji #draken #mitsuya takashi #chifuyu matsuno #pibby writing

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jasmines-library · 4 months

Note

Hello sugar <3! (im very sorry if theres any spelling errors, english isnt my first language <3)

I would love to request some angst/comfort with the batfam? Maybe with the reader (tw: sa, rape) struggling with some sexual assault/rape issues, something they haven't told the family yet? The reader acting different for weeks, months even, and the whole family being suspicious and noticing their sudden fear of being cornered, touches and certain smells maybe?

its totally fair if you don't feel like it, I just really really love your way of writing the characters, and your writing over all. I swear, i swallowed your whole page in the matter of a few hours, I loved every second!

Kristy, Are You Doing Okay?

Note: My gosh im so sorry this literally took me over a month to get to, but it's here. I'm so glad you like my page and thank you for requesting! (Title name from song)

Warnings: SA, r*pe (non explicit but this fic deals with the aftermath. Please read with caution.), Panic attack of sorts.

Word count: 2.1K

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

Please remember, if you are ever struggling you are not alone. It may be difficult at first but there are many places for you to reach out to, many of which are anonymous and do not need the involement of of name, if you are just needing for someone to talk to. There will always be someone out there to help you. As an alternative, my DM’s are always open for a chat! Remember: You are loved and you are so much stronger than you realise.

⛤

You hadn’t meant to drift away. It sort of just…happened. And it wasn’t even something you were conscious of really. The thoughts were just constantly there and you couldn’t shake the feeling of his hands roaming all over his body; the ghostly touch of his fingers lingering flush against your skin, burning an invisible bruise into your flesh. You tried to shy away from it but it was always there, buried into the front of your mind festering away like an old, unforgotten wound oozing with pus and blood that would only create more problems the longer it was left.

The night it happened was cold and bitter. A shallow fog had cast itself over the city as you staggered back to the manor with makeup running carelessly down your face. You shut yourself away, turning the lock on your door and burying yourself under the covers to try and shy away from the situation. But it never left. It just kept growing, weeding its way back through the open cracks like a stubborn plant that refused to leave no matter how many times you doused it with poison. You didn’t sleep that night. And you didn’t leave your room the day after. In fact the only time anyone saw you that day was when you slunk downstairs in the middle of the night to try and revive the growling of your stomach without having to see anyone when you bumped into Tim who was finally dragging himself up to bed. The interaction was odd. At first he thought that you had just been busy all day and that was why no one had seen you: It wasn't uncommon for one of you to disappear into your room for a few days to catch up on school work or to finally get more than 4 hours of sleep. But something about you was off. You were quiet and lacking that charisma that usually shone from you. You were jumpy too, recoiling as soon as Tim rounded the corner unexpectedly.

When you finally managed to bring yourself out of your room, you were still withdrawn. Instead of donning your normal seat next to Jason at the table, you sat at the end alone pushing your food aimlessly around the plate until someone had finished eating and you took that as a cue to leave. You didn’t mean to leave them in the dark. Really, you didn’t but the thoughts crept into your mind every time they got near. Every hand outstretched sent a shiver crawling down the nape of your neck as if someone was running an ice cold digit along your spine. The thoughts were worse. Intruding. Obnoxious. You felt so…dirty. And your mind seemed to like to make sure you remembered that. You couldn’t help but feel like somehow the whole situation was your fault, which of course it wasn’t, but you were stuck with being guilt ridden; trapped within your walls.

Your skittishness didn’t go unnoticed. The boys tried many times to talk to you or to get you alone, but each time one of them hastily trailed after you as you slunk out of a room you would pick up your pace until they got the hint and stopped dejectedly in the halls. You had just skittered off into another part of the manor when Damian decided he had finally had enough.

He pushed his way back into the library rather frustratedly, stomping his feet so hard against the floor that they continued to pound through the room even as he moved from the polished wood to the carpet amongst the centre of the room. His brothers were still lounging around the room, their legs slung carelessly over the arms of the chairs or folded beneath them as they engrossed themselves in their phones or an ever growing pile of books. They barely even acknowledged that Damian had even returned from his pursuit of use, besides lifting their gaze as he huffed his way back into the room.

“Something is wrong with Y/N.” Damian declared, planting his feet into the carpet in the centre of the room and placing his hands on his hips.

Dick felt as though he could laugh. Damian’s statement was so obvious that you may as well have had a huge, yellow sign above your head that screamed ‘i’m not okay.’ It didn't matter how much effort you put into trying to hide the bags that dropped across your skin, or the way that you couldn’t stand to be in the same room with any of them for too long without your skin crawling, they were prominent amongst your saddened features. “Yeah, No shit.”he said, looking up from his phone that he had been mindlessly scrolling on to distract himself from the feeling that gnawed at his gut.

The room fell into a pregnant silence before Damians angry scoff broke the silence.

“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?” He spat. “You’re not worried?”

Jason pushed himself up onto his forearms and spoke out defensively. “Of course we’re worried… It’s just…”

“What?”

“She won’t let us help her, Dami.” Tim said. “We’ve tried, but each time she’s run.”

“Well then try harder!” He said. It was unusual for the youngest Wayne to react this way when it came to his siblings. But, then again it was unusual for you to shy away like this and although Damian would never admit it, he had a soft spot for you and seeing you hurting like this killed him a little inside.

“Damian.” Dick reprimanded sternly.

He sighed and swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry. I just can’t see them suffering like this anymore.”

There was a general agreement between the four of them. Tim chewed away at his bottom lip as he thought for a moment. “What do you propose we do?”

The whole room seemed to think together as one for a moment.

“We corner them.” Damian said. It might have seemed cruel, but it was the only thing he could think of that would stop you from slipping away again. “If they keep running there’s no way we’re going to be able to help, so we just have to compromise.”

You knew that Jason was behind you. You could hear his careful footsteps, evenly spaced by his long strides as he tried to catch your attention. He was loitering outside of your room, trying to catch you as you left. It surprised you to see him as you peeled open the door. You had flashed him as much of a grin as you could muster up as he greeted you, trying to draw you into a one sided conversation that you were itching to get away from the moment it started. You tried to remind yourself that it was just Jason. That he wasn’t going to hurt you. But your mind still thought it was funny to play cruel tricks on you and soon you were making up a poor excuse and fleeing down the halls.

You didn’t make it far though before you collided with a tall figure marching down the other end of the corridor, who braced his hands on your shoulders. Yelping at the unexpected contact you spun on your heel to turn back the way you came only for your breath to get stuck in your throat when you were met with the red of Jason’s shirt. When you backed up, you collided with the eldest vigilante again. Spinning around frantically, you searched for a way out. There was none.

You were trapped.

The thought consumed you quickly, dragging you down like a ton of bricks tied to your ankles until you were drowning in the thought of being imprisoned again. It was all you could think of. It screamed throughout your mind, pumped in your blood. It was nauseating. You could see the other two approaching and panic set into your already scrambled mind. You weaved, trying desperately to spot an exit but the two vigilantes were much bigger than you and their hefty frames took up most of the corridor.

“No. No no no.” You rambled as your heart rate skyrocketed and your breathing came in sporadic, panicked gasps.

Tim furrowed his brow. He didn’t think you would react like this. He reached out to grasp your forearms to ease your shaking body, but you nearly screamed, yanking your arms away from him and backing up against the wall.

“Don’t touch me!” You stuttered, barely audible between your spiralling state. Fat, hot tears tracked along your face as you sunk to the ground to bury your face within your knees which you clutched to your chest.

The four boys exchanged an anxious glance.

“Y/N…”

“Please…” You gasped. “Stay away from me. I-I can’t anymore… no more. Please.”

“Y/N? What's wrong?” Dick queried. “Talk to us, please. We want to help.”

“No…” You whimpered.

Damian squatted down beside you resting on the balls of his feet before reaching out slowly towards you, ignoring the warning glance that Jason sent his way, and placing it gently on your shoulder.

Flinching, you squeezed your eyes shut. He could feel the way you trembled like a leaf under his touch but he didn’t let go.

“It’s just me Y/N. It’s Dami.”

You registered his words, but you still felt like you were back in that room. You allowed your body to relax just the smallest amount.

“It’s just us, kid. You’re okay.” Dick cooed.

You sniffled. The four of them were crouched around you now.

“You can trust us.”

Your body tensed as you were hit with reminders of that night. The way he had led you away to commit his act of betrayal that would cut deeper than a thousand knives.

“That’s what he said.” You hiccuped.

“Who?” Tim asked tenderly. “Talk to us Y/N.”

You shook your head, biting down on your lip. You didn’t want to bring up the memory stuck in your mind.

“Kid… we can’t help you if we don’t know what’s happening.”

“He- he… took me away from the crowds… He said to trust him- and I thought I could. B-but then he-” Your voice split into an unholy sob.

“Oh..Y/N/N…” Dick said, suddenly understanding.

“I can’t stop thinking about it. I can still feel him. Hear him. Just make it stop please!.” You begged, sobbing into your hands.”

“It’s okay. You’re safe.” He told you, reaching out gently to place a hand on your forearm, you tensed slightly but didn’t pull away. “We’re not going to let anyone hurt you. Ever.”

“We promise.”

You peeled your head away from your arms to reveal your bloodshot, teary eyes. From close up they could see how clearly the ordeal had taken a toll on you. Not just on your body but your mind too.

It took some convincing and a lot of gentle touches of reassurance to get you off of the floor, but the four of them managed to ease you back into your room. They refused to leave you alone after that. Insisting that at least one of them stay by your side at all times until you decided on your own terms that you were ready to take the next step in your recovery and stay the night alone. It was a slow process, but each small milestone made them extremely proud of you. They were there when you awoke suddenly in the middle of the night, crying and shaking, and they were there when you managed to move forwards too. They were there to remind you that recovery isn’t linear, and that it was okay to move backwards. It’s all part of the process. The four of them showed you a different kind of gentleness that you had never seen before, and they tried their hardest to bring a smile to your face everyday. And it was their kindness that began to wash away those feelings. It was them who made you realise that you were loved, strong and would find your way back from the darkness and into the light.

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junipers-archive · 1 year

Text

Power-Outage

Word Count: 1.2k

Includes: fluff, fluff, fluff spencer x reader when a power-outage occurs and spencer being spencer and being adorably the perfect boyfriend

Dark. It is dark and you're alone and its honestly embarrassing how quickly you pick up your phone to call your boyfriend. I mean...who's still scared of the dark? What're you 5?

It's two in the morning and you shouldn't be calling, really. You've only been dating for a few weeks, but he's Spencer, he's technically been your best friend for 4 years, 3 months, 2 days. and...about 18 hours, but who's counting? You convince yourself you just need to hear his voice, his sweet, safe, angelic-

"H-hello?"his voice breaks from that of someone just woken up at an ungodly hour by his co-dependent girlfriend who so happened to have accidentally hit the call button while she was second-guessing herself.

Maybe he'll hang up? Maybe you can convince him you butt-called him in the middle of the night tomorrow at work? Or maybe-

"Y/n baby I'm really gonna need you to respond before i drive over there." he sounds calm, not at all agitated, not at all like someone woken up at 2 in the morning, he sounds...like Spencer

"Hi..." You exhale into the mic with relief. You should say something, really say something, apologize, yes that's what you'll do "I'm sorry I shouldn't have called, god I'm so idiotic...I just-well the power just went out and its 2 in the morning and I really should get some sleep but-"

You're cut off by the jingling of keys on the other line.

"Spence you still there?"

"I'm on my way." Was that a car door?

"On your wayy..." It takes you second, or it takes your un-caffienated and sleep deprived brain a second to realize he means he's coming over to your house. Your home. Where you live.

And yes you're bestfriends with him and you've had sleepovers before but that was when you were ready. That was when you had cleaned.

"No! Spencer No! That is completely unessecary! I'm fine! I just wanted someone to talk to and I thought-"

The engine of his car starts. You can hear him trying to repress the laugh that graces your ears every time he knows something you're trying to hide from his genius mind.

"I'm already pulling out of the drive-way, forget about it. Plus I know you're afraid of dark."

Maybe he'll turn around if you just- "Spencer. I am not afraid of the dark. That is childish and obsurd and I mean im not a little kid anymore! You can just go home, go to bed and forget this ever happened"

There's a silence on the other end, besides the hum of the car, absolute silence.

Until, "Do you still have the candle I got your for Christmas?"

Of course. Of course Dr. Spencer freakin Reid wouldn't believe you. I mean he knows you better than anyone. What were you thinking?

"Yea spence. Yea I have the candle"

He hums in response and you can practically hear him grinning on the other end.

You admit defeat.

"Can you at least bring over some marshmallows? I'm all out from our last movie night." You would honestly rather have him over as soon as possible if it weren't for your hideous room and the pile of "i'll get to it" in the living room haunting your mind. This will at least buy you time.

But again he's dr. reid. "I've already got some from my stash, jumbo and small and snowmen shaped. And of course hot chocolate!"

He's perfect. He's everything and more you could've asked for.

And yet. ANd yet. At this very moment you'd like to strangle him. And not that impersonal type of cowardly strangle like really just-

"Don't be embarrassed baby. I've already seen your room at its worst. I'll be there in ten, turn on the candle and read your books for now."

You hear him knock on the door a few minutes later, as to not disturb the neighbors. Because of course, he's Spencer and would've thought about that too.

You run with the only flashlight you have to the front door, and you're greeted by a ruffled, grinning and ever-charming Spencer with his satchel stuffed with god knows what and wearing his periodic table of elements pjs.

You mirror his grin almost immediately, albeit sheepishly and look down to hide your own embarrassment...only to find him wearing the pink bunny slippers he'd stolen from your house only a few days ago.

With that all or any ego-preservation skills were out the window. He was here already...right?

You let him in, still staring down at your shoes as he leads you two straight for the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets to find the ingredients and kitchenware as if he'd lived there his whole life.

You take a seat at the kitchen's island stool, and watch him work.

This should be embarrassing. I mean it is. It is!

That is, until he hands you a steaming cup of hot chocolate with little snowman marshmallows dissolving on top and smiling like he hasn't just driven 8 miles with these ingredients to make you happy because you called him.

You called him at 2 in the morning.

And with that the unease floods back. And you're hiding your face in your hands and mumbling something incoherent.

This is when he finally speaks. "So...you wanna build a fort?"

You rub your eyes and look up at him. "i-i'm sorry?"

"We should build a fort." He's assertive in this, something at another time you would've found very hot, but at this moment it concerns you. Because to any other person what you've just done would be unacceptable.

"You...want to...build a fort?"

"I find it helps, I mean...at least when I was younger my mom and dad, they used to help me build forts when the power went out. To distract me if anything. It was kind of the only time I remember them getting along."He chuckles and looks down bashfully.

And now all you can think of is building a fort with the beautiful boy in front of you.

"Yea, yea i'd really love it if we built a fort."

And you do, you build a fort with what now you deem as you're future husband. Lighting the other candle he brought you on the counter that fills the air with your favorite scent and finding battery power camping lamps in your closet to light up the room.

He tells you stories about the kinds of forts he used to build and to the best of both your abilities you try to recreate his favorite.

By around 5:30 in the morning the sun is rising and you're both past out in the center of the monstrosity you two created while high on a sugar rush provided by the hot chocolate and one two many marshmallow snowmen consumed.

But you'll remember this for the rest of your life you think. You'll remember Spencer for the rest of your life. Because no one, no one would understand how to make you forget your biggest fear like he did.

While surrounded by darkness all you could see was him.

He was your light.

He was your light, and for as long as he'd have you, you'd be his too.

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themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 3 months

Text

Datura Pt 5

Summary: Trapped Under the Mountain you're trying you best to learn to navigate Amarantha's Court and your own, budding powers.

Content Warnings: Allusions to assault, slavery, mild cursing

Author's Note: This one hurt me to write, but my depression got the better of me and I needed to let my angst out somewhere; I'm so sorry.

Pt 1, 2, 3, 4

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

It’s been three weeks since you’d been dragged under the Mountain, each day counted with a little tally scratched into the wall behind your bed post where no one can see. Two weeks without word from your uncle. Two weeks without sunlight. Sometimes you sit in the dark wondering if, when this is over and you finally get to step into the sun again, if your eyes will be able to bear it, or will they be permanently altered?

The weeks are taking a toll. The girl you see in the mirror each morning is paler and paler each passing day, the lines of your face a little thinner as hunger becomes a constant companion. Amarantha has tasked someone with feeding you, but meals are few and far between, save for the assortment of stale snack Rhys has been sneaking into your training sessions. The male has spent hours each day running you through shielding techniques, followed by sparring sessions to “keep you limber” he’d said, and has only just begun to touch the well of power that sleeps beneath your skin. He’s still tight lipped about what he suspects it was, no matter your questioning. Things are, well you wouldn’t say pleasant necessarily, sometimes he still makes you want to hurl things at his head, but there has been no more threats from Amarantha to enforce upon you and so things are fine between you. The Queen has kept to herself for the last three weeks, until the Attor came knocking on your door.

The creature has the decency to not attempt to carry you by the back of the shirt this time. Instead, it walks ahead of you, leathery wings and talons scrapping the floor, it’s every breath a horribly, squeaking, rasp through it’s crooked teeth. It’s only spoken to inform you that you’re being summoned to the Queen’s chambers and than it clamps it’s thin lips shut and shoves you into the hall.

No throne room today, for that you’re relieved, most nights you can still see the bodies pinned to the wall when you shut your eyes. Instead, the Attor leads you up and up, the climb stealing your breath as you head to what you can only assume is the Mountain’s peak. Someone has painstakingly carved steps into the rock, each stone smooth and worn down over time. The door at the top is the same carved stone as all the other doors, but this one is guarded by masked sentries, both armed to the teeth. Spears glisten in their gloved hands, and you keep your questions about how well those could be wielded in such a small space to yourself. Questioning Rhys about her operations is one thing, the Attor and the rest of her cronies is another.

The sentries knock twice before pushing the door open for you.

Unlike your room, the space of her chambers is cavernous, the walls smoothed over and held by pillars of marble and sandstone. Faelights glitter and twist around each pillar, bathing the room in an unnaturally red glow.

Red seems to be her favorite color.

Her sleeping chambers are set in the side of the space, hidden from you by a crimson curtain. The rest of the room is left open, decorated with plush couches and chairs around a roaring fireplace in the shape of a lion’s head. Beneath the worn coffee table, currently plated with tea cups and scones, is a pelt of some sort of monster, the head bearing curling horns and an open mouth of jagged teeth, the glassy eyes starring right at you as the Attor all but shoves you into the room.

There’s a heavy scent of mirthroot and incense in the room that makes your head feel fuzzy.

The Queen emerges from behind the curtain wearing little other than a silk robe, the bare expanse of her legs on full display.

You reign in the disgust you feel at seeing her, try not to picture what she was doing back there, so flippant after she’d ordered an innocent male killed simply for knowing you. She’s a monster. But she’s also the monster with the power of the High Lords and you’re not so foolish as to upset her here in the quiet of her chambers where no one will hear you scream if she decides she wants to punish you for any slight you might offer.

“Y/N,” she says with a grin that looks wrong on the sharp planes of her pale face. “Glad you could join me! Come, sit.”

The Attor watches you move towards the couch opposite her like he thinks you might pounce on her and drag your claws across her throat.

The couch sinks in when you sit, like it’s been used a lot. You try not to think about why.

“Tea?” She asks as she grabs her own cup, her red lipstick smearing across the rim as she takes a deep drink.

Your stomach rumbles, a reminder that they’d forgotten to feed you again. You pull your hands into your sleeves, trying to keep your hands from reaching out to take what’s offered on instinct. “No.” The chances of you being drugged in here are high, you’re not taking any chances. Mentally, you do a quick check of your shields, just as Rhys had shown you, to ensure the doors of your mind are shut from whatever power of his she can wield over you.

She frowns. “I can see that you’re scared of me.”

You lean back in the couch, arms across your chest.

“I wish it didn’t have to be like that,” she says as she sets her own cup down. “I’ve been training with Hybern for many years, I’ve often thought of him like a father, and so I hope you don’t think I’m being too forward when I say I hope that some day you’ll see me like a sister.”

The urge to unleash your claws and slash them across her face is overwhelming. You’re thankful you’d had the good sense to pull your hands into your sleeves, it hides the way you dig your nails into your palms to keep yourself still. “Oh?”

She clasps her hands together, the eyeball in her ring swiveling to look at you. “My relationship with my own family was… rocky, I’d like to think fate is giving me another chance with you.”

You’re not so desperate to get out that you buy it, but you know, from somewhere deep inside of you that if she’d waited a few more weeks, if the hunger and the dark were really starting to get to you that she could have been convincing. That’s what scares you the most.

“I know I come across extreme,” she continues like she hasn’t noticed your reservations. “But, girl to girl, I really want to see you thrive. Rhysand has been telling me of your progress. He says you’re a fast learner.”

He’d told you that too. “He’s a good teacher,” you say carefully. You mean it, he’s very patient with you, even if he is an ass about how he gets results, he’s never been harsh, never pushed too far--not since that first day had he come into your mind uninvited--but you can’t have her getting suspicious of why you’ve been such a dutiful student. If she suspects you’re trying to awaken your powers too soon, you’re as likely to end up chained to her as the High Lords are. Hybern needs a weapon, not a time bomb, you have to play your cards steadily to unsure you can get out of here at the end of this.

“Charmed, are we?” She asks in what feels like it’s meant to be conspiratorial girl talk, but the look in her eyes... You swear the eye on her finger widens in warning.

“I haven’t had any training before this. It is nice to have a guide for my questions.” As close to the truth as you can get.

Amarantha leans back in her seat, arms spread across the back of the couch, as she studies you. Her eyes are so dark they’re almost black, nothing but cold calculations in a gaze you know has been wielded with extreme precision on the battlefield. It’s like she’s pinpointing all your weak spots when she looks at you. You can’t look her in the eyes, not without fidgeting, you find yourself picking at the fraying edges of your shirt sleeves instead.

“You poor thing,” she coos. “You must have been so confused.”

That much is true too. You still haven’t been able to figure out why they’re doing all this. What terrible power does she think you posses that she’s so desperate she’ll invite you into her personal chambers instead of attempting some dramatic event in the throne room?

You stare at the wall. You can’t give her the satisfaction of asking her those questions. Maybe she does have the answers, but they’re from her mouth and you know better than to trust a damn think that comes out of it.

“I thought everybody was ahead of me,” you admit. “We travelled a lot so regular schooling was out of the question.”

“Oh I’m sure your uncle was a master at weaponizing your naivety. Most males are.” She brings her hand with the ring up to her chest and begins to trace a pointed nail over it, as if she’s thinking about something else.

“He’s a good male,” you blurt before you can stop yourself.

She huffs a laugh, “Good males do not steal children from their parents.”

You bite down on the inside of your cheek.

“Your parents were very powerful people once, and your uncle had always been jealous of your mother. I wish you could have seen her, Y/N, when she stepped onto a battlefield, males coward. I watched them piss themselves just at the sight of her. She was everything I hoped to be as Hybern’s general.”

You’d always imagined your love of books and ancient things had come from your mother. In your mind she’d been a soft woman who grew gardens and was always reading books under big oak trees. In your mind she was kind and gentle and had lost you tragically in some sort of accident. To hear anything else, from Amarantha of all people, made you want to throw your hands up over your ears. Your uncle had alluded to your father not being the best of people, but you had never imagined it would be this bad either.

“Your uncle couldn’t stand it,” she continues, oblivious to your inner turmoil. “I tried to warn them that he was a jealous and dangerous male, but your mother loved him too much to see it. And when he stole you out of your room that night, well, her heart couldn’t handle it. That’s our curse as women, I suppose, we care too much.”

You look into the fire. That can’t be true! You don’t want it to be true. Because, if it is, you’re not only wrong about your parents, you’re wrong about your uncle too and then you will have no family left at all.

“And look at you, following in her footsteps,” she presses. “Caring so much about him that you’ll sacrifice your own peace of mind to spare his miserable life. He’s a monster, Y/N, why are you protecting him? All he has ever done is hurt you.”

The flames dance in the fireplace, reaching towards the carved teeth of the lion’s head. You trace the ash that’s dusted up the creature’s face with your eyes, anything to avoid looking at her. Your shields might be in place, but your face will betray you all the same.

She stands and comes to sit next to you, the heavy scent of earth and incense a cloud around her. “Your powers could have driven you insane without the right teaching. He very well could have killed you. You want to protect a male like that?”

Maybe it is all true, gods above you can barely stomach the thought, but even if it is, you can’t sell him out to her. “I already told Rhys where he would be. I’m not protecting anyone.” These last few weeks, no news of him had been a relief, it meant he was safe, but as time ticked on, the doubts were starting to get to you. None of her huntsman had even heard whispers of where he’d gone. Was it possible he’d abandoned you?

She reaches out and places her nails under your chin, turning your head until you’re looking into her eyes. “You poor thing. I feel for you, I really do. I know the terrible sting of betrayal all too well.”

The eye on her ring swivels to stare at her, like it’s questioning the statement.

Maybe it really is alive; the thought makes your stomach roll.

“What do you want?” You ask.

She laughs like you’d told a joke. “As I said, I want us to be friends.”

“You killed a male to threaten me into submission and suddenly you want to be friends?”

She stiffens a little.

“This is about the twins, isn’t it?”

“Do you smoke?” She asks instead.

The shift makes you pause for a second, long enough for her to shout for someone behind the curtain leading into her sleeping quarters. A moment later, the same male from the throne room appears, shirtless, wearing nothing but his boxers and a glittering, golden collar. In his hand is a small, silver tray and as he seats himself on the arm of the couch, he holds it out to her. A rolled cluster of cigarettes sits on the tray next to a golden lighter and she grabs the nearest cigarette. Out of what can only be habit, the male sets the tray on the table and lights the cigarette for her as she brings it to her mouth. You’ve been in enough taverns to know mirthroot when you smell it, the smoke making the room hazy.

“Helps with my headaches,” she says, holding it out to you.

You glance at the male, now draped over the edge of the couch like this is normal. Like it’s normal that there are scratch marks across his chest; a collar clinging to his throat. So much had happened the last time he’d been around you hadn’t really noticed what was happening, but now…

Amarantha is speaking again but you honestly can’t hear what she’s saying.

What kind of female does this to people?

There’s something prowling beneath your skin, a caged animal pacing the bars of it’s enclosure. The first bits of your talons poke through your skin, digging into your palms to keep it at bay.

“Y/N?” She asks, and by the tone its clear this isn’t the first time she’s called you by name.

You force yourself to draw a breath, then another. You cannot fight her here like this, no matter how badly you want to. No matter how much the sight of that collar makes you want to destroy everything she’s ever touched. She has the power of the High Lords and if you fight her here in her chambers, untrained, you will loose.

You draw another breath. Rhys had said that half the battle was knowing when to throw the first punch. It isn’t time yet.

You repeat it to yourself, to the thing that slumbers in your chest until it quiets.

You know Amarantha is watching, can feel that oily gaze on you. You draw another breath and force yourself to look at her. “I’m sorry, I… I was just wondering…” You should placate her, pretend your just some untrained, naive little girl she found on Calanmai. At the start of this conversation you might have, but the shift you feel beneath your skin…

You need to get out of the room before you implode.

And you need her to know you’re not just some stupid pet.

“I was just wondering what’s so bad about the twins that’s got you rattled, Your Highness?” Maybe you can’t meet her gaze yet, maybe you can’t win a physical fight, but you’re not some helpless toy at her whims. The last couple weeks have weakened you, but they haven’t beat you.

She growls at you, eyes flashing dangerously.

The male on the end of the couch scatters out of range, ducking behind the curtain long enough for you to get a flash of the room, see another body laying in her silk sheets.

You’re going to rip this mountain apart brick by fucking brick if you have to.

“Is this what you’d rather do, little mouse?” She asks, her voice dangerously low. “Play games with me?”

It's too late to take it all back now. The words are out and despite the shiver running down your spine, you know if you back down now she will hold it over your head forever. Might as well stand your ground and see what she'll reveal to you if you keep pushing. “I’m bored in my cell,” you counter.

She takes a drag of the mirthroot. You'll ask Rhys later why she needs so much of it. Is it possible that holding all that power is effecting her physically somehow?

“How forgetful of me to not keep you entertained.”

“Isn’t that what friends do?” You over emphasize the word, put all your venom into it. You can’t spar with her physically yet, but you’ve always been quicker with your words than your fists anyway.

She flicks the cigarette away. “You should come to dinner tonight, if you’re so bored.”

You hope she can’t hear the way your heart thunders in your chest. This is dangerous, so very dangerous. You’re almost sure you can hear Rhys screaming in your head. “I’d be delighted,” you say as sweetly as you can.

Amarantha motions the Attor over, a dismissal. “I was hoping to protect you from the cruelty of this court until you were ready. My subjects aren’t always as kind as me, but since you’re so keen on getting out of your room, I suppose I can’t help you.”

She’s going to throw you to the wolves.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I’ll have to get acquainted with my father’s court eventually.”

“You’ll remember this conversation after dinner,” she hisses as the Attor grabs your shoulder and lifts you off the couch.

“I’m sure it’ll be a good laugh for both of us,” you say like you don’t hear the threat.

As the door opens, you throw over your shoulder, “I’ll see you tonight.”

The powers she’s stolen rumble as the door slams shut behind you, the mountain shaking.

You tuck your trembling hands into your pockets as you walk back the way you came. At least no one is dead this time, but still you can’t shake the feeling that you’re royally fucked.

Doesn’t help matters that, as you turn the corner back towards you room, Rhysand is there, frowning as he leans against the closed door. That intense violet gaze roams over you as you approach, as if he’s cataloging every detail of you, then the Attor.

“Why is she out?” He snarls at the Attor.

“Well hi to you too,” you grumble.

You’re not entirely sure what powers come with being High Lord of the Night Court, but you’re sure he once was able to burn holes through people’s heads, judging by the intensity of the anger in his eyes. He won’t even make eye contacting with you, only the Attor, who lumbers past you, chuckling.

“Her Majesty requested an audience.”

“She’s only to leave her room with me,” Rhys snarls, pushing away from the wall so he’s standing at his full height. Wisps of darkness unfurl from his shoulders, thrashing behind him like living things.

You shiver a little. These last few weeks had made you forget the male you had seen on Calanmai--what Darkness Incarnate was capable of given the right push.

“Funny,” the Attor rasps, unbothered by the display. Maybe when you spend so much time with Amarantha, only big, powerful displays matter. “She hasn’t mentioned you all morning. Maybe she’s gotten tired of you.”

“And maybe,” Rhys prowls forward, the stars you can sometimes see glittering in his eyes winking out with each breath he takes. “I was out dragging Tamlin’s sorry ass in for you.”

The Attor pauses, wings twitching. “Spring surrendered?”

“His time is up,” Rhys snarls. “He didn’t even fight me.”

Shit shit shit. She’s actually done it. Tamlin had been the last High Lord on his throne. When Hybern came in a couple of months, there’d be no one standing in his way. Amarantha would have all the High Lords sitting and waiting for him to do whatever he wanted with them.

You look at Rhys, really look. There’s no damage on him, no cuts or bruises, not even dirt, no hint that he was lying about bringing Tamlin in. He doesn’t look at all bothered by it either, as if this is just another part of the job.

The Attor makes a hissing sound, “Guess we both didn’t get what we wanted today, lordling.”

“This will be the last time you take her anywhere,” Rhys snarls, his voice wholly taken over by a High Lord. Not the male that sits on the floor in the training room, showing you how to shield; not the male who sneaks you snacks to ensure you’re not starving to death in the dark. There is no room for argument, no room for a fight, he is High Lord and he will get his way. “And if I find out any harm came to her while she was under your watch I will take my gods-damned time flaying the skin from your measly bones.”

Measly? The Attor is twice Rhys’s size, yet you know, just by looking at him that he’d win. It’s no idle threat.

“You talk a lot of game, whore,” the Attor snarls as it backs away. It knows it’ll loose too. “But lets see you put that same energy out in front of Her Highness when she has her new pet out for dinner tonight. I’m sure with the Lord of Spring joining us, things will be interesting.”

It scurries away before Rhys can ask what that means, or before you can tear it’s ugly face off it’s bones. Yours claws are piercing into your palms, blood pooling between yours fingers. You hadn’t realized you’d done it, they’d slipped, your control waning at his words. Rhys hadn’t seemed to notice them, hadn’t reacted at all, just as he hadn’t that night in the throne room, but you can’t stand it. And you can’t even explain why.

“Are you hurt?” Rhys asks as soon as the Attor is gone. The wisps of darkness disappear in a rush, like all the energy needed to summon them had suddenly vanished.

“No, I’m fine,” you reply, but you can’t stop yourself from looking down at your hands, the indents you’d left in your palms. Little tendrils of your own darkness slip from them, like it’s leaking out of your skin.

Rhys is on you in an instant, taking your hands in his own, looking at the damage.

“Guess I was clenching my fists a little tight,” you say.

The world tilts and spins, the sound of wind rushing in your ears, and then you’re standing in another bedroom. It’s as barren as your own, lit with a dozen, half melted candles, most of the space taken up by a bed with black silk sheets. There’s some furniture covered in dust around a cold fireplace; it looks less used then your own had been when you’d arrived.

Rhys’s hand is around your wrist, pulling your towards the bathing chambers. He’s breathing hard, as if the winnowing had taken a lot out of him; his skin a little more pale, dark circles around his eyes. How much of his power does Amarantha steal on the daily?

“What did the Attor mean about tonight?” He asks as he motions you to sit on the edge of the tub. It’s bigger than your own, not by much, but there’s enough of a lip around the edge that you can sit without falling completely in. He lets the water run until it’s warm.

You pinch your eyes shut. “She gave me this whole speech about how she wants to be friends.”

He guides your hands under the water and you wince against the sting.

“I was going to wait her out, just not say anything at all, but…” but you kept seeing that male in that godsdamned collar, and the bodies pinned to the wall of the throne room, and the male who had been murdered on the floor.

You know you should be careful here too, no one has explained what his role in all of this is. Was he like Tamlin once? Dragged in when he ran out of options? Or had he come on his own? And you can’t shake the queasiness you get in the pit of your stomach when someone calls him a whore, because all you can do is wonder if Rhys has any say at all what happens to him down here?

“But?”

“But she’s a monster and the last fucking thing I want to be is her friend.”

He steps away long enough to get a towel and dab at the open wounds, still bleeding, the water red as it runs down your hands.

“So I guess I kinda goaded her into doing something with me instead of leaving me in my room all the time.”

Rhys huffs, but you can’t tell if it’s annoyance or anger. He doesn’t say anything beyond that as he shuts off the water and start rummaging through the cabinet under the sink. There’s a lot of vials and bottles and hand towels organized in the small space, the only real sign that anyone ever stays in the room at all.

“You’re lucky she didn’t tear you apart,” he growls as he comes back with a bottle of what looks like antiseptic. He dabs some on another towel and presses it to your palms, ignoring the hiss you make at the sting. “She’s ripped off people’s arms for less.”

“Yeah well one of the joys of being me is she needs me alive,” you drawl.

He tosses the used rag in the tub and then opens a small bottle of salve. It’s half empty, the contents clinging to the sides of the container. It’s applied to your hands with the care of someone who has done this over a dozen different wounds.

“How’d you find all this stuff?”

He’s got gauze too; wraps your hands carefully. “One of the joys of being me is she needs me in one piece,” he returns.

When your hands are all wrapped, he puts all the stuff back and washes his own hands.

“What…” this is dangerous ground, it sounds an awful lot like you care about him. You run a finger over the bandage, trace the sleeve of the shirt you only have because he’d given it to you. You’d still be in a shift in this frozen place if it wasn’t for him. You’d be a lot worse off, if it wasn’t for him.

“What exactly do you do for her?” Do you even want to know? Why torture yourself with the truth when you find out he’s done all of this for her because he wants to? Because he was born a monster just like she was and had only decided to latch onto you because maybe you were as much a ticket to Hybern’s graces as you were for Amarantha?

You watch the way his back shudders as he draws a shaking breath.

Something in your chest cracks and you jump off the edge of the tub.

“Whatever she wants,” he says so softly you almost can’t hear him.

You take a step closer, then another, until you’re right behind him. “And do you… want to do that?”

He turns slowly, head to his chest.

You take the final step so that you can look up into his eyes. So you can see him. There is so much there, in his eyes, in the shadows across his face that you’re pretty sure you have an answer. But you can’t be pretty sure of anything Under the Mountain. You need to hear it said.

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” he whispers.

“Yes it does,” you press.

He shakes his head, onyx hair falling over his eyes. This is the most rumpled you’ve seen him, he’s always so put together. “Not with what I stand to loose.”

“What could be worth all this?” You’ve unconsciously brought your bandaged hands up on his chest, the beat of his heart quickening beneath your palms. He lets you, as if that pulse might show you that he really does have a heart that works under his shirt.

He brings a hand up slowly, gently running his fingers over the back of your knuckles. His mouth opens, and closes without an answer.

“Rhys-”

He pulls your hands away, straightening, whatever emotion had been on his face before is gone, that cold mask of indifference in it’s place once again. “I am High Lord,” he explains, “my duty is to protect my people at all costs.” Whatever he was going to say before will remain buried behind that mask. You don’t know how he does it so easily. Just when you think he might open up, might let you in, might show you that the male you had met on Calanmai was real, he shuts it out behind this mask.

“And who protects you?” You dare to ask, because even though you know you can’t get past that mask, you can’t stop yourself from trying.

“I don’t need protecting,” he says, but it’s not confidence in his voice, nor pride, it’s… broken, as if he doesn’t think he’s worth protecting. “Careful, Y/N, I might think you care about me.”

Caring in a place like this very well may get you killed. But if you stop, if you find your own mask and shut down every piece of yourself behind it, aren’t you just as bad as him?

“Would it be so bad?” You whisper. You can’t help but feel small in a place like this, would having a friend be so terrible?

“Yes!” He snarls and darkness leaks from him again. “The more people you care about in this gods forsaken mountain the harder it is to get out! You might only get one shot and if you don’t take it, you’re likely to get stuck here forever.”

Somehow this is worse than Amarantha asking to be friends, this feels an awful like some sort of rejection and that chasm you often feel after Calanmai, when you’d ignored him, cracks and splits wide open in your chest. You feel yourself tumbling down, down into the dark void.

“Why do you care so much if I get out then?”

“Because you’re-” he bites down on the rest of the sentence, shakes it off with a deep breath. “No one else will tell you the truth, so here it is: You will be the death of all of us if you stay. So yes, I want you out of here. I want you as fucking far away from here as possible!”

You can’t breathe.

The chasm swallows you, drags you under until you don’t know what way is up. You know you’re crying, but you can’t stop the tears that stream down your cheeks. Rhys doesn’t bother to try and wipe them away this time.

“Fuck you,” you whimper.

“It’s not my fault you were so damn isolated the first scrap of attention you got you confused with something else,” he replies. “I’ve kept you alive out of necessity and I will continue to do so until it is no longer required of me. And when the time comes for you to get out, you’ll take it and not look back, understand?”

The world spins again and you’re suddenly back inside your own room.

“Do you understand?” He repeats again.

“Perfectly,” you hiss.

“Good. Now let’s fucking hope I can get you out of this gods-damned dinner before your throw away your chance.”

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Tag List: @mariahoedt, @lovelydove, @twsssmlmaa, @sleepylunarwolf, @judig92, @willowpains, @annaaaaaa88, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @myheartfollower, @uniquecolorwizard, @eternallyelvish

*I've seen that some of my tags aren't working for this list, I'm trying to figure out why it will let me tag some of you and not others, but I'll keep trying until I figure it out. :) As always, if you want to be added to the list, let me know! :) Thank you all for your support in this fic you guys are amazing! <3 *

#rhysand x reader #Rhys x reader #rhysand x reader angst #rhysand x reader smut (eventually)#rhysand ACOTAR #ACOTAR fic #utm!rhys #datura #my fanfic #my writing

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persage · 1 year

Text

CAN YOU STAY WITH ME TONIGHT?- S. HARRINGTON

Summary: It's a rainy night when Steve Harrington knocks on your door for help. This time, however, it has nothing to do with the upside down and its monsters but that doesn't make things any easier.

Steve Harrington x Hopper!Reader

Words Count: 2.5k

Warnings: None, just Steve's shitty parents, some angst with comfort and the breakdown our boy deserves. Hopper!Reader. Let's pretend Hopper never "dies" at the end of season 3. (set between s3/4)

He can see it in the distance, warm and familiar. At every step the Hopper house is closer and you with it. In the dark of the night Steve Harrington needs you like never before. The rain beats quickly against his jacket as he runs fast, regretting not having taken the car and having decided to run away on foot, like an unconscious stupid child. If he lived in a normal city, he might be afraid of catching a cold or a fever at most, but he lives in Hawkins since and November 6th 1983, the day Will Byers disappeared, he has much more to fear. He knows that rationally nothing has happened for months, that you are theoretically safe, that you have overcome the Russians and the Mind Flayer, but every time something terrible has been thrown at you it has been when you felt the safest. He trembles. He should have at least taken the bat, which he keeps under the bed, but he ran away from that hell of the house without thinking and immediately found himself running to you, like an unstoppable impulse.

To say you've had a hell of a night would be an understatement. His tear soaked face is red and puffed, his hair disheveled and even if he's been running he's cold, lips chapped and he just wanna stop moving and sleep. It seems like an eternity goes by before reaching the familiar doorstep. Though the hour, he knocks at the door and it doesn't even occur to him that the Chief Hopper can open it in your place. Also he is ashemed of being seen this way by you, but by your dad ... It would much more embarrassing.

Luckily what he sees after a few minutes and a few reminders is your sleepy and confused face.

"Steve? What's wrong?" You ask as you open the door. You haven't looked at him well yet, not enough to realize he just cried, you rub your eyes to wipe out sleep, your hair is unkempt, the pajama you are wearing is turned upside down and you seem to have the pillow still glued to your face . Guilt grips Steve's heart.

I shouldn't have come. He thinks. He needs to go away, is nothing important.

Sorry y/n, it is nothing, I'm going home. But what comes out of his lips is something else. "Can I stay here, tonight?" He asks, his voice trembling. Idiot Steve.

Your brows knit together with concern as you let the door open fully. "Of course. My dad is working late so it's just us. What happened?" You look him up and down, resting yout hand on his chest once the door is shut. You finally notice his eyes swollen with tears, despite the rain you can clearly distinguish his tears. Something between his chest and stomach tightens. A lump rises in your throat.

You never saw Steve cry, not when Billy beat him, not when Nancy left him, not when he was tortured by the Russians. Something very serious must have happened and you are afraid to know it, because the person in front of you, even if he does not know it, is the human you care about most in the world. The same one you were willing to die for so many times. When you stood between him and Billy, when you stood by his side in the tunnels, when you offered to take his place during the you never managed to stop him from hurting himself.

And now, again, something has already happened to him and you are here, helpless. You can only listen to him.

"I.. I shouldn't... I didn't know and... I just. It's raining." He avoids eye contact as his voice shakes as well as his hands. You grab them, squeezing them with both of yours. They are cold and wet. "You're all wet Stevie, you're gonna catch a cold." You say in the sweetest tone. He lets out a soft sigh. "I'm sorry I shouldn't have come".

"No, no don't say that. We're gonna get you into some dry clothes and get that cut cleaned up, alright?" You rub your thumb over his cheek, pulling it away to show the trail of crimson liquid. Steve haven't even noticed he was hurt, he is just so used to it.

Even if you are shorter then him, you awkwardly try to put an arm around his shoulders to warm him. Steve lets out a little laugh and you let an arm slide along his side and bring him closer to you as if you need him to have both hands on him in fear that if you let go, he'll fall completely apart.

You walk him to your room signing him to be quiet for El who is sleeping in the near room. You pick out a red sweatshirt that he lent you once and you never gave him back and some unlikely basketball shorts that must have belonged to your dad when he was young and they certainly won't fit him well but as they are but it's your best option. Steve doesn't know how to describe the feeling while he hold the clothes in his arms waiting for you to leave him, it is just that they make him feel safe. They have your scent.

"You change and I'll get some stuff to clean the cut, yeah?" You say, gently caressing his face and regretting it a second later. Sometimes your releshionship confuses you: he's not your boyfriend, not even near to be, but you are way more tan friends. And he ran to you. In the moment of need he ran to you, it must mean something. But on the other hand then there's Robin ans this symbiotic relationship that she and Steve share that you don't understand and it scares you, also because she's awesome in so many ways and you really really like her. You don't wanna be jealous, you just can't help it.

Steve nods and watches you leave hesitantly. He knows he must have scared you, showing up out of nowhere, late at night, and he knows you must have understood something is very wrong. Steve feels weak near you, like he doesn't need to hide his fears anymore, like he can finally break down and that's what worries him the most. He doesn't want to be a burden and he doesn't want you to change your mind about him. When you return Steve is sitting shyly on your bed, twiddling with his fingers.

"Alright, here we go." You state, walking back into the room with hands full of band-aids, gauze, hydrogen peroxide

"What happened Stevie?" You ask sitting beside him, so close you can feel his still cold skin against yours.

He takes a deep breath and remains silent.

"I am ready to challenge my father's wrath and let you stay tonight and you know he will kill me for it but you must confide in me, please. You can trust me." You continue while with dedication you cleanse his cheek of stale blood.

"I hit a mirror. And I broke it." He explains in a low voice, finally finding the courage to look into your eyes.

"Yeah" You hold stare back at him, his eyes full of shame, fear, a broken heart. "And how did you hit a mirror with your pretty face Steve? "

He clears his throat to stop the trembling of his voice. "I had a fight with my father"

When will you grow up?

When will you work for real?

You make me regret having you, stupid boy.

You're useless

You're a shame for the Harrington name.

" He ... He found out that I'm not going to leave Family Video soon and ... He freaked out. You know my, my cousin Trent has just graduated he'll have to take care of the family business and I... I'm just too stupid for this shit."

"What did he do to you?" You struggle to control the anger in your voice and squeeze the gauze too tightly. This time it's Steve grabbing yours hands to calm you down.

"He didn't do anything to me. He didn't beat me Y/N if that's what you are thinking, he never did and he never would"

"But you hit a mirror" Your voice holds pieces of breaking heart and anger.

"He pushed me, I slipped. I swear to you"

"It's not that better anyway. He pushed you, he makes you feel stupid, he... Doesn't even try to understand you Steve. This is not fair, you deserve better" Your voice goes up an octave, you just want to scream at Steve's parents, to make them see how wonderful thier son is. You always knew that his family never protected, loved or valued Steve as he deserves but seeing him in this state annihilates you.

" You're the only one who thinks that y/N. Sometimes I've got the feeling that you don't actually see me for who I am" Steve chuckles, but behind that sound there is nothing happy, just a lot of loneliness. "Steve we all believe you deserve the world. Robin, Dustin, the kids. Me. I've seen you fight monsters, Russians, I've seen you save everyone. I know you, I've seen you take care of Dustin and the others and be the most generous and courageous person in the world. You don't want to run a company, and that's okay so it doesn't make you any less important, less strong or valuable. Please, please believe me "

"I can't" He murmors voice breaking. He brings his hands to his face to calm down. He feels like crying.

"I can't y/n" You hang your head slightly with disappointment, while caressing his soft hair.

"He kicked me out of the house." He adds, whispering.

His chin wrinkles, his eyes burn ready for tears to start streaming as your heart falls with his.

His pain is yours.

You no longer care about keeping appearances and distances. You throw yourself on Steve stepping him in the tightest of hugs, tying your arms around his neck and resting your head on his, kissing his hair while Steve Harrington lets himself go against your chest, collapsing into a cry that has been held back for years. He cries for Barb, for Nancy, for himself and the little boy he was. He cries for the blows he took, for the mistakes he made, for Jonathan with whom he was an asshole, for the mistakes he has not forgiven himself. For high school Robin. For the Russians, for Billy and Max, poor little Max. He cries because the weight of the world is on his shoulders and he is not even able to be a worthy son, to be strong and now he throws it all on you. He cries for you, because he knows that now he can do nothing to keep you away from him, to give you better. You love him, otherwise you would have already kicked him out, you would see his flaws. Like his father you would find him useless.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He whispers against your body, sobbing his heart out.

"No, no, no don't be. Ever.

We'll find a solution I swear my Dad will help us"

"I don't want ... I don't want Chief Hopper to get in the way ... I don't want ..."

"Steve my father adores you and is grateful to you and will be happy to help you. You have saved my life a thousand times. You save me every day to be fair"

You move away wiping his tears with your thumb, looking at him with admiration, as if he were the most precious thing on earth. Steve lets himself be lulled into this unknown sensation. "We will talk about it tomorrow with my father and we will solve everything"

"Yeah." He agrees softly. "I don't know what I'd do without you y/n. Thank you"

"Don't ." Your voice is soft but scratchy. "Don't ever thank me for this Harrington. This is what we do. We're there for each other, no matter what."

He nods once as you hold his head in your hands

"And listen to me, please. You are worth, you are precious and you deserve the world"

"It's you, you are precious" he leans to you, his forehead now touching yours.

Your voice shakes "You are loved" You murmor as you help him lay down on your bed, arms wrapped around him, hugging him tightly. "Now sleep, you need it Stevie boy"

"If your father finds us like this he'll kills us"

"Oh Harrington I'd be ready to die for a night with you"

You answer ironically. Or maybe not.

"I left him a note on the door. He'll know you're here and you need us." You continue.

"y/n"

"Yes Steve"

"You are loved too."

He smiles while closing his eyes, letting himself go to the peace you give him. He loves you, he really does.

You make him feel better even if he still has a dad outside who hates him and a mother who can't stand up for him and even if his problems are not gonna disappear this night, for a few hours with your breath against his skin and your hands on him the seem to weight less on his shoulders and he he feels a little less useless and unworthy. You're his saving grace and the light of his life and maybe one day he will be able to tell properly.

1K notes · View notes

agent-cupcake · 3 months

Text

Flashbang

Chapter 4 - BAD LUCK!

Spotify Playlist / All Chapters / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 /Chapter 7/ Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 pt.1 / Chapter 9 pt.2 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Pairing: OPLA Buggy x f!Reader

Synopsis: No good deed goes unpunished, right?

Word Count: 7.2k

Notes: I have a spotify playlist that all of the chapter titles come from + what I listen to while I write this if you are curious- Flashbang

“You're not like me, I'm not like you. I'm not who these things happen to And that's exactly what you say before it catches up to you Before you play with knives and find yourself in two”

xxx

“Come in,” Crina called within seconds of your nervous knocking at her door. You opened it and stepped in.

“Good morning, Crina,” you said, forcing a smile past your exhaustion. “I was wondering-”

“-if I had anything for the captain’s hangover,” Crina finished for you with a knowing smile.

“He had a lot to drink last night.”

“Of course,” Crina said, turning around to look through her bottles. “What about you?”

“I’m alright, thank you.” In truth, a sharp sort of headache had poked itself deep into the left side of your head, a reminder of your late night. Running on only a few hours of sleep was uncomfortable, but it would get easier throughout the day. You just had to keep going.

“I saw some of your show last night,” she said in a would-be casual way.

You winced. Last night, Captain Buggy had been laughing, but it wasn’t as funny as it was humiliating. Maybe that’s why it was funny.

“You don’t have to let him embarrass you like that,” Crina told you, turning around with a bottle in hand.

“It wasn’t that bad,” you said awkwardly, not meeting her eye.

“If you can’t set boundaries now, you might not get the chance later.”

“It’s fine,” you told her. “I didn’t mind, really.”

Crina gave you a hard look, but she let it pass, handing you the bottle. “Give him two of these and make sure he drinks plenty of water with his breakfast.”

“I know,” you said, putting it in your pocket. “Thank you, Crina. I’ll bring this back later.”

“Keep them, I’m sure you’ll need them again.”

“Right,” you said, nodding. “Thank you.”

Your next stop was to the galley where you approached the intimidating cook—whose name, you had learned, was Gorr—to ensure that Captain Buggy’s got a proper breakfast. Eggs, coffee, fresh fruit, and bread. It was strange to think the tray was piled with goods stolen from Barley Village, from the people you had known all of your life. But that thought led nowhere good, so you dropped it.

There was a chance you were overpreparing, that Captain Buggy’s hangover wouldn’t be as severe as you feared, but you wanted to be braced for anything. He was awfully drunk last night. Drunk enough, you hoped, that he wouldn’t remember much of what he said.

Balancing the tray against your hip, you knocked on his door, although you weren’t surprised to get no answer. You had to wake him up every morning. So you unlocked the door, using your back to shut it behind you, and set the heavy tray on the table before gingerly approaching the divide between the anteroom and bedroom.

Buggy laid on his stomach in a sprawl across his bed, his cheek smushed into the pillow and his limbs stretched to all four corners. To your great relief, you didn’t see or smell any vomit. The only noticeable changes were that he’d removed his pants at some point—though, thankfully, not his underwear—and emptied the cup of water.

“Captain Buggy?” you said. “Captain Buggy, I’m sorry, but I think… It’s time to wake up.”

He groaned, flopping an arm over his head. You frowned. He would most certainly get angry if you were too pushy, but you had a feeling that if you let him sleep in too late, he’d also blame you.

“I brought you breakfast, Captain Buggy,” you told him. “If you don’t eat it soon, it’ll get cold.”

He mumbled something that sounded a bit like ‘I don’t give a shit.’

“Captain Buggy,” you said, tentatively touching his shoulder, “you’ll be upset later if you don’t wake up now.”

He groaned, almost growled, with irritation, looking up at you with narrowed eyes. For a second, you thought for sure that he would yell, but instead he rolled onto his side, reaching up. “Come—c’mere,” he said, getting a firm grip on the front of your sweater before you could think to escape, “no—just, come-c’mere-”

The only type of fight you put up was to go stiff as he pulled you onto the bed and pinned you against him, his hand over your mouth. Once you were there, he relaxed, keeping you in place with his own weight.

“Much better,” he said, his voice gravelly, vibrating against you.

You tugged on his wrist to move his hand from over your mouth, but Buggy didn’t budge, his breathing already evening out. He was warm, almost feverishly so. You squirmed, trying to ask him to stop, but the only thing you got was for his palm to clamp down that much harder to muffle your voice, threatening to suffocate you. His other hand settled flat under your neck to keep you still. When you stopped trying to talk and relaxed, so did he. Enough to let you breathe, at least.

Buggy’s breathing was getting deeper, you could feel his body move with it, pressing hot against your back. In response, you could feel your heart beating faster, picking up in speed as his hand dragged lower, passing over your chest to settle against your ribs, and then your stomach, rubbing slow circles as if he was petting a dog. You squirmed with more urgency to escape his hold, whining to express your discontent. Buggy’s hand kept getting lower. It was an idle movement, maybe he wasn’t even aware of it.

You squeezed your eye shut, so tense that your muscles trembled. Physically fighting him was out of the question, but you absolutely could not handle the way his hand was continually sliding down.

There was only one thing you could think of doing, but that seemed almost as bad as trying to elbow him or something. You tried again to complain, but all you got was his hand pressing harder on your face.

Buggy’s other hand reached the waistband of your leggings, and that was it.

“Ew, what the fuck!” Buggy suddenly exclaimed, pulling his hand away like you’d bitten him. “Did you just lick me?”

“Your eggs will get cold, Captain Buggy,” you told him, twisting out of his hold and onto the floor, falling with a painful thud. He watched you scramble to your feet like he was in shock, his mouth open and eyes squinted. “I’ll… I’ll…” You pointed at the antechamber, putting your head down and scurrying out of his room as fast as possible.

With shaking hands, you poured him a cup of water. You had no idea if he was going to get up now, but you didn’t think you could handle going back in there, flushing hot with embarrassment. Luckily, you did hear a thump, and then some grumbling, and then heavy, upset footsteps. You were prepared to apologize, your head down and the words ready.

“Why the hell did you let me drink so much?” Buggy demanded as he came in, frowning and disheveled with bloodshot eyes and messy hair. He didn’t seem to care that his robe was hanging open and revealing so much skin, too concerned with holding his head dramatically.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you told him. Did that mean he wasn’t upset about what you did? You relaxed slightly, trying to stomp out your awkward nerves, trying to get rid of the skin-crawling memory of his body against yours, of his hand on your belly, creeping lower and lower. “Crina gave me medicine that will help your head.” You shook two capsules from the bottle into your palm, holding them out like a peace offering.

Frowning, Buggy took the medicine and sat down, knocking the lid off his breakfast tray to swallow them with a mouthful of coffee.

“I ordered you something different, I hope you don’t mind,” you said, sitting across from him. “It’ll help with your hangover.”

Buggy grumbled under his breath, but he didn’t hesitate before picking up his fork, shoveling eggs onto it and then into his mouth. He ate so fast you weren’t even sure if he tasted anything. It was, if you were honest, pretty unappetizing, but being a messy eater seemed to be the pirate norm.

You sat across from him, focusing on finishing your own meal quickly. You didn’t think about what happened, or last night, or anything. Buggy seemed equally disinclined to engage, although the glazed-over look in his eyes made you think it was more out of exhaustion.

That, at least, was something you had in common.

Eventually, Buggy dropped his fork with a loud clatter, downing the rest of his coffee. “Okay, okay,” he said, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his chin. “I’ll let you give me a shave.”

“What?” you asked, looking up.

“What do you mean ‘what’?” he snapped. “You were so eager the other day. Here’s your chance. Don’t mess it up.”

“Oh, um… Yes, sir.”

Nervously, you stood up, going into the other room. You knew where he kept his shaving supplies, they were lumped in with his makeup. Buggy wasn’t an especially organized man. Even when you tried to tidy things up, it was all out of order by the time you came back. You set up everything on his desk, just like when you removed his makeup, before throwing open the drapes and filling his bedroom with bright sunshine.

Every piece of the matching set was engraved with a flowery M. Whoever M was, he had great taste, or perhaps a very sentimental loved one. The razor was as fine as the one you had bought for your dad on his birthday last year. Buggy clearly hadn’t taken as good care of it as you would, but that was fine, nothing a bit of polish couldn’t help. With familiar, practiced strokes, you stropped the blade, ensuring it was as sharp as possible. Dad liked a perfectly clean shave, he said that anything less was unprofessional and slovenly. Buggy didn’t seem as particular, but you very keenly felt the weight of his standards.

“I can’t believe you let me sleep in so late,” Buggy said, stomping his way into the room to drop into his chair, his face scrunching up with displeasure at the light.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you said absently, checking the blade and deeming it ready. Buggy watched with his seemingly fixed scowl as you set that aside to whip the shaving cream into a thick foam. It had a simple, clean scent. Familiar, even.

“May I?” You held up the brush loaded with shaving cream. Buggy lifted his chin, letting you coat his face and neck. You wondered what changed that he wasn’t afraid of letting you near his neck with a razor. Did that mean he trusted you? Or was he just too tired to do it himself?

Either way, you had to force yourself to calm down before using the blade to carefully draw a line out of the cream, starting from the sideburn. It was fine. You had done this hundreds of times, every other day or so for years. Just like when you removed his makeup, Buggy held still, closing his eyes and letting you take care of it.

You wiped the razor, changing the angle to get the contour of his jaw. It was difficult to not notice in general, but now you had to actively assess the structure of his face, and how could you not admire it? Even Buggy’s nose barely registered as strange and his cheekbones, his jaw, his chin, his neck—so pretty, so different from dad’s features which, although once had been noble and strong, drooped and bloated from age and liquor.

Stupid, useless thoughts.

Buggy helpfully drew his lips taut when you shaved around them, allowing you to angle his face to make sure you didn’t cut him.

“Raise your chin?” you asked, wiping the blade. He did, exposing his neck, and you felt a moment of embarrassed doubt. You saw him in so many states of undress, the sight of his bared neck shouldn’t have affected you, especially not when it was only so you could do your job. There wasn’t anything sensual about it, not really. Cursing yourself, you focused on the task at hand, paying no mind to the lines of tendons or his Adam’s apple or the angle of his jaw or anything other than not messing up.

You finished up on the opposite side of his face from where you started. Double checking that you hadn’t missed any spots, you nodded in satisfaction, wiping his skin clean of any remaining cream to apply aftershave. It had a nice warm smell, although Buggy pulled a face at the sting.

“There you go, sir,” you said, stepping back.

Buggy exhaled harshly, like he was waking up all over again. After yawning and rolling his neck, he picked up the hand mirror on his desk to check your work.

“Is that okay?” you asked hesitantly. You had done a good job, you knew you had. It was one of the few things that dad rarely ever got upset about.

Buggy shrugged. “It’ll do.”

Your shoulders drooped a little, but that was dumb. Trying to fish for compliments was childish and cheeky, you had done a job as he asked. He stood up and stretched with his arms above his head, and you ignored his near-nudity, your eye firmly fixed on your hands as you cleaned up.

“Guess I’m lucky, huh?” Buggy asked. “I mean, the last guy who let you at his neck with a knife got a little more shaved off then just some hair.” You went still, those words freezing you all the way inside out, your breath catching on the chill. Buggy seemed ignorant to your reaction, continuing on without missing a beat. “I gotta piss, go do… I don’t know, whatever your job is.”

Your shoulders drew up defensively, your eye fixed very firmly forward. “Yes, sir.”

A knot darkened a little eye into one of the wooden planks in Buggy’s office, the imperfection remaining even after it had been cut down, nailed into place, and sanded into uniformity. One eye, that’s it, the only thing that gave it any personality now that it had been chopped out of its tree and cut into shape, separated from its whole to be put to use. Boot prints tracked across it, filth and age wearing down the grain. You stared at its eye and wondered if it was happy with its lot in life, or if it missed the forest. Being a ship seemed more fun than being a tree, but somehow you got a feeling the eye disagreed with you.

“Hey, idiot,” Buggy said, snapping his fingers in front of your face, startling you. “Are you even listening to me?”

You blinked quickly, shaking your head as you looked over to him, confused. Distantly, you realized he had been talking. How long had you been sitting there? After you left his cabin that morning, you had been a little out of it. Too little sleep, too much excitement and exertion.

“I’m sorry, Captain Buggy. I guess I… ” You blinked again, his unhappy expression finally registering. “I’m sorry, Captain Buggy.”

He rolled his eyes. “Go mope somewhere else. Your shitty attitude is making it hard to think.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you said, standing up. “I’ll, um…” He raised his eyebrows, the expression clearly prompting you out of the room. You nodded and left, shaking your head to try and wake up.

How long had you been in that daze? Sometimes it happened so suddenly, so harshly, and then your day was eaten away with very little to show for it. Being quiet didn’t make your thoughts any more or less tolerable, it was the state of existing separate from the actions of your body. If anything, it was to be overwhelmed by the bad things, by the thoughts you didn’t want to think and the feelings you didn’t want to feel. A little like drowning, watching those little bubbles rise up to interact with a world you couldn’t handle.

You squinted at the violently bright sunshine, thinking about what to do. You considered finding Crina and asking if she needed help, but the little interaction you had that morning made you hesitate. She saw too much, asked too many questions, made assumptions about you that you didn’t like, and your feelings were confusing enough without her using her mystic divination to make you open up. Since you hadn’t especially endeared yourself to any other member of the crew, there was only one person who could possibly give you guidance.

When you finally found Cabaji, he was training with a few of the other pirates. You hesitated rather than approach him, hanging back and watching. There was a graceful ease to his movements, a nonchalant elegance. Cabaji made it look easy, swinging his sword around like it was a toy as he practiced different forms and attacks. It was the same as when he juggled. You remembered trying, and failing quite terribly, to juggle the night before.

Juggling, cards, singing, acrobatics, sword fighting, knot tying—the list of your failures had only grown since you joined the crew. And even that was a loose thing. Nobody saw you as a member of the crew, or even as a pirate.

Cabaji looked up right when you were about to turn away, his dark eyes fixing directly on you.

“Is there something you need?” he called, drawing the attention of the other crewmates he was training with. You shrunk back, pulling your bandana down.

“No, sir,” you said. “I was just…” Your nervous explanation trailed off as Cabaji approached you. His skin shined with sweat, drawing attention to his exposed chest. He was handsome, you could admit that to yourself if no one else. But he was also intimidating, and you would rather die than be accused of staring at him in any untoward way.

“Yes?” Cabaji asked, his eyebrow quirking. The other pirates he had been training with stood behind him, watching you with varying degrees of amusement.

“Do you… um, do you think you could teach me how to do that?”

That wasn’t what you intended to ask, but it felt right. Captain Buggy had made no mention of teaching you how to fight. He was too busy anyway. Crina said it was too dangerous for you to even try. Because you were frail and weak. Because you were easily tired and as breakable as glass. Compared to everybody else on the ship, you were practically an invalid. For so long, you had seen your eye as the thing that kept you from being equals with other people, but now you realized there were a lot of other reasons too.

But you didn’t want to be like that anymore. You would either force yourself to be better, or you would be left behind.

“How to do what?” Cabaji asked, his expression impossible for you to read.

“Fight?” Your answer made the little group behind him laugh.

Cabaji shot an irritated glance over his shoulder, shutting them up.

“I’m sure you’re too busy,” you said. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“No, that’s not a bad idea,” he allowed after a moment of thought. “You should be competent enough to avoid embarrassing Captain Buggy. Come over here.”

Cabaji casually flipped his sword and sheathed it as he turned back into the makeshift training area. The other pirates didn’t laugh at you when you followed, but their eyes were heavy on your skin. He showed no concern for them, stopping and whirling around to face you, his scarf flaring dramatically.

“The first thing you need to know,” Cabaji told you, “is that if it comes to a fight, you’ll lose. Always prioritize avoiding confrontation or escape. I’ll show you how to hold a sword properly because it could buy you some valuable time, but make no mistake, a real fight will end in your death.”

“Yes, sir,” you said, swallowing your anxiety. “I understand.”

“Good. We’ll start with your stance. You have to brace yourself so you can maintain your balance while swinging the sword. Like this.” Cabaji drew one foot behind himself, his knees bending a bit as he took a defensive stance.

You tried to copy him, but your body was stiff and awkward. Behind him, the group stifled their laughter and you immediately stopped, your body snapping back into your nervous posture.

“Ignore them,” Cabaji told you. “This is important. Try again, I’ll help you.”

“Yes, sir.” You took a deep breath before stepping your feet out, trying to copy his pose.

“You have to stand with your feet at least a shoulder’s width apart,” Cabaji said, walking behind you to kick your feet further, grabbing and turning your hips. “Like this. If you’re too stiff, you’ll get knocked off balance.”

“This feels awkward,” you said, trying very hard to ignore your skin-crawling discomfort. This sort of physical contact was normal. You were being weird, Cabaji was only helping you.

“It will be for a while, you have to practice. Eventually, it will become second nature.”

You nodded, trying to relax into the pose. He worked with you on that for a bit, having you find the stance from different positions, showing you how it would help you stay on your feet when he pushed at you. Even though it was just standing, it was oddly tiring. The sun shined so bright, and it was hot. Cabaji was patient. You knew he could tell when you got dizzy spells, but he didn’t say anything, letting you take breaks to get water so you didn’t collapse. Most of the onlookers grew bored of it, realizing you weren’t going to be entertaining, and that made it easier.

After he decided you were able to stand correctly, he drew his sword and held it out to you.

“I’ll let you borrow my sword for this,” Cabaji said.

You looked at the weapon. It was longer than a knife, and you weren't going to use it for anything. It wasn’t similar in any way at all, completely different. You weren’t going to hurt anybody. Taking a big breath, you gingerly accepted the sword. And then nearly dropped the weapon when you realized how heavy it was. Cabaji circled around you to help again, saying nothing about your weakness.

“Both hands—yes, like that.” You held your breath as he guided your hands on the hilt of the sword, his chest against your back as he showed you how to hold your arms. You could smell his skin, feel the warmth of it. A memory existed there, in the physical impression of being guided from behind. “The sword is an extension of yourself. You have to let it move with you, and know how to move with it.”

“It’s heavy,” you said, trying to swallow down your nerves.

“You’ll have to train your muscles,” Cabaji said. “Assuming you can.”

“I can,” you said quickly, turning to look at him only to realize how close he was. You had to look up to meet his eyes. They were so richly dark, a complete contrast to Buggy’s pale gaze.

“Woah, woah, woah, what do we have here?” A familiar voice called, almost as if summoned by your thought. Cabaji quickly stepped away. You almost dropped his sword, only barely avoiding letting it fall as you turned. Buggy’s steps as he approached were slow and steady, but his smile was tight. A pit of sickness tightened in your stomach when you thought about how that might have looked.

“Cabaji is teaching me how to fight,” you explained.

“Why?” Buggy asked, clearly amused by the idea. “I’ve seen kittens with a better chance at winning a fight than you.”

“It was my idea,” Cabaji said.

“No, that’s not true,” you interjected, frowning. “I asked him to show me.”

“Really?” Buggy asked. You didn’t understand his tone of voice, or the tension in the air.

“I want to be stronger,” you told him. “Like you, Captain Buggy.”

He scanned you from head to toe in a very obvious, borderline theatrical way before cracking up. Other people, the loose crowd of pirates who had crept closer to watch the scene, laughed along with him. It wasn’t even like it had been last night. He laughed meanly, inviting the others to laugh along with him.

After a second, Buggy held up a hand to stop the laughter, shaking his head. “Cabaji, get me a sword.” Buggy smiled at you. “I want to see what he’s taught you.”

“Nothing yet,” you said, nervous and insecure beyond words, your ears buzzing. “I don’t think I can-”

“The only way you can ever improve is through experience,” Buggy said, taking the sword Cabaji handed him and raising it like a challenge. “Come on, don’t be shy.”

“Stand like I showed you,” Cabaji instructed. There was nothing he could say or tell you to help, not when you only learned how to hold the weapon a couple minutes ago. “Swing the sword down and forward while stepping into the attack with your dominant foot.”

Buggy came to a stop opposite you. You had no idea what he meant by doing this. Embarrassing you? You didn’t understand. Everybody was watching. Your heart beat frantically in your chest, a fresh, prickling sweat breaking out on your brow.

Feeling more awkward than you ever had in your life, you stepped forward, awkwardly slashing in front of yourself. Buggy didn’t even try to parry your pathetic attack, or dodge it. He seemed to reach into it. Before you could think to draw back, the blade sliced through his wrist. There wasn’t any resistance, but his detached hand hit the deck with a dull thump, his sword hitting with a dull crash of metal.

Your weak, sweaty fingers immediately went limp, dropping the sword with a loud clang. Buggy’s eyes went wide before he shouted in pain, doubling over and cradling his arm while letting out a string of obscene words. You weren’t even sure you knew what half of them meant.

“Don’t just stand there, idiot!” He yelled hoarsely. “Grab my hand! Pick it up!”

Unsteady and more than a little sick, your mind whirling with raw panic, you stumbled forward to pick up his detached hand. There was no blood. In fact, the place where it had detached was unnaturally smooth. But it couldn’t have been a prop either, it was warm through the glove. And it was moving. From pinky to pointer, the fingers curled and uncurled. It wasn’t like twitching, it was the deliberate movement of a regular hand. The wrongness made you yelp, dropping it. Instead of hitting the floor again, his hand flipped through the air, meeting up with the stump at Buggy’s wrist. Reattaching as if connecting to something magnetic. He wasn’t shouting and cursing in pain anymore, he was laughing. Everybody who had gathered around was laughing too.

You felt dizzy enough to pass out, or maybe be sick. The hand you picked up was a real, human hand. Buggy’s hand. But it was right there on the end of his arm, fully intact.

Even Cabaji was smiling.

It was a prank? A joke? Your hands shook violently, your ears ringing. Even though it was different, it was the same as it had been. The hollow thump of flesh, the violence, the coldness of fear.

Buggy grabbed you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, his body shaking with laughter. “You okay?” he asked. “You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

“How?” you asked softly, staring at his hand. It was attached fully, like it had never been separated. Buggy was fine. You hadn’t hurt him.

“You know what a Devil Fruit is, sweetheart?” Buggy asked.

You shook your head no.

“Thought not. Basically, I ate a funny lookin’ fruit and now I’ve got a super special trick up my sleeve.” He held out his arm, detaching it in segments before all the pieces popped back together.

“Oh,” you said faintly, the only thought you could really articulate.

“Sheesh, that got you good. That’s what you get for wandering away when I needed you. Not only that, but distracting poor Cabaji.” Buggy clicked his tongue, leaning down closer to speak soft enough for only you to hear. “I’ll let it slide this time, but from now on, you leave him alone.”

You cast a sideways glance at Cabaji as he picked up his sword, inspecting for any damage and very professionally ignoring you.

“That’s an order,” Buggy said, his arm tightening. You looked up to meet his eyes. So bright, so intense.

“Yes, sir.”

“Great,” Buggy said, releasing you before addressing the gathered group with an annoyed scowl. “Everybody, back to work!”

The pirates dispersed, some of them still smiling or laughing. You did nothing, standing there freezing beneath the hot sunshine.

Buggy shot an irritated glance over his shoulder. “Babydoll,” he snapped, whistling at you to follow. By now, you responded to the term of endearment like a name, hurrying to catch up as he stalked towards the quarter deck. “Maybe I oughta put a leash on you, keep you from wandering away.”

You swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in your throat. You couldn’t trust that if you spoke, your voice would remain steady. It was like, all at once, your lack of sleep, physical exhaustion, and humiliated pain caught up with you, and you tripped, landing hard on one knee, your shin painfully banging into the edge of the top step. Your vision darkened on the edges before you got your arms propped up beneath you, wincing at the pain.

Staring hard at the ground, you saw Buggy’s shadow double back, and then his hand entered your field of vision, outstretched.

“Need a hand?” he asked. You looked up, a little confused about the kindness. But you weren’t about to reject the help.

“Thank you,” you said, grabbing his hand and using it to get onto your knee. Buggy pulled his arm away as soon as you started to stand, letting you fall back onto the deck with a yelp, his detached hand limp in yours.

“I know you only got one eye and all,” Buggy said, laughing, “but how did you not see that coming?”

You frowned, finally feeling the sting of tears in your eye, your chest aching with the little betrayal. After everything else, it just felt so cruel. With a strength that shouldn’t have been possible, his detached hand hauled you up onto your feet before it snapped back into place on his arm. You stumbled forward a few steps before getting your balance, but Buggy was already walking away, heading towards his office. You followed, wincing at the sharp pain lancing up from your shin.

The relative dark of the map room left you nearly blind, you knocked your hip against the table before steadying yourself again. Buggy threw open the doors to his office, going right to his desk to fall sideways into the chair, one leg thrown over the armrest and the other on the edge of the desk, his head lolling back dramatically for him to rub his temple.

“Sit down,” he bid you with a wave of his hand, like a ruler directing his subject. You sat, folding your hands in your lap nervously.

Slowly, Buggy’s expression of dramatic weariness became a smile, and then a chuckle. He dropped his hand, raising his head to look at you.

“That was hilarious. You shoulda seen your face when I started shouting. I really had you going.”

You frowned, your stomach twisting. It seemed like something you were meant to laugh along with, but you worried if you tried, you’d just wind up in tears. “Why didn’t you tell me you could do that?” you asked.

“You never asked,” Buggy answered, like it was obvious.

You weren’t sure how to respond to that, so you just nodded.

The silence dragged on and on, but the weight of Buggy’s eyes made it obvious that he wasn’t done talking. Suddenly, he stood up, taking slow steps around his desk. It forced you to look up at him. “What I wanna know,” Buggy said, tapping his pointer finger to his lips as if he was thinking seriously, “is why you went to Cabaji for help.”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“That’s what you said earlier, wasn’t it?” Buggy asked, “you asked him to teach you how to fight. Kinda surprising honestly, I wouldn’t’ve thought you had the backbone. Maybe you and him are closer than I thought.”

“No, that’s not… We’re not that close.”

“So you asked him to teach you how to use a sword because you think he’s better than me?”

That question threw you off all over again. You had no idea how good of a fighter either man was, but you had a feeling that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“No, but you’re very busy, Captain Buggy. I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

Your answer didn’t seem to diffuse his growing displeasure like you hoped. Instead, his head lolled to the side, a casual pretense that didn’t at all match the disconcerting focus of his gaze. “I had no idea you even wanted to know how to fight. Last time I had to hold your hand through the whole thing, I kinda figured you weren’t cut out for that sort of thing.”

“All pirates know how to fight,” you said.

Buggy laughed, leaning back against the desk with his arms crossed. “Is that what you think you are? A pirate?”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. Eventually, you found your voice, but it was very soft. “I am.”

“Get real, babydoll. You’re barely a woman, let alone a pirate.”

“Then why did you hire me?” you asked, your cold voice nearly inaudible.

“Because when you were strung up, I saw something in you, something exciting. You showed me that you knew what you wanted, and you were willing to bleed for it. You recognized that to achieve greatness, you have to make sacrifices. But now that you’re here, it’s like you’ve got no vision, no drive to be anything more than the pathetic little thing you used to be. You’re just like all the others. I keep waiting for you to get it, but you won’t let me in.” He sighed, disappointed. “I guess I hoped that if you killed that guy, you could become more than the girl he thought you were, but you’re still clinging onto your old life. Until you let that go, you’re practically dead weight. I may as well send you back to your dad.”

“I am trying, Captain Buggy,” you argued, blinking very fast. “That’s why I asked Cabaji-

“What does Cabaji have to do with anything?” Buggy snapped. “You think that you’ll become somebody just because he teaches you how to toss around some balls or hold a sword? Don’t be stupid. You're trying to run when you can't even crawl.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice soft enough to not risk letting him hear it break. “I’ll… I’ll be better.”

Buggy crouched down in front of you, grabbing your shoulders. “I really want to mold you into something worth loving, but I can’t do that when you’re so… so frigid and frowny and boring. It’s like you’re afraid of being special.”

“I’m sorry, Captain Buggy,” you whispered again, blinking fast. You wanted to keep your face hidden from him, but Buggy grabbed your chin, pulling your face up to look at your expression. What was lurking in his pale eyes? Sometimes his expression was so transparent, but all you could see was the sharp edge of his judgment.

Buggy released your chin, pushing you away from him as he stood up. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off and reflect on your failure,” he said, the bite of disdain clear in his voice. “And I don’t wanna hear that you’re bothering Cabaji again, okay?”

“Yes, Captain Buggy.”

Curling up in your dark hiding spot amidst the storage crates beneath the forecastle, you cried. Even hating yourself for proving Buggy’s point, you couldn’t stop it from hurting. Everything hurt. Everything was scary. There was no place in the world where you belonged. It was the lesson dad tried to teach you over and over. Fundamentally, there was something wrong with you. Your poor health, your hysteria, your inability to get along with people, your ineptitude. You thought your life would change because your circumstances were different, but that was a silly dream. Unless you changed, nothing would ever work out.

It was like blinking. If blinking carved out several hours from your life that you couldn’t remember and left you stiff from sleeping curled up in a ball on the floor.

Waking up from an unintended nap, especially waking up in the dark, not knowing how much time had passed or even where you were, was terrifying. At first you assumed you were in the basement, but the smell was wrong. You weren’t at home. You laid on a wooden deck, not stone. The pain striking up your shin was the first reminder of what had happened, and then everything else fit into place.

You crawled out from the storage area, wincing at the various aches and pains plaguing your body. Wiping the crust of tears from your eye and fixing your bandana, you made your way to the shared living space with half an idea about supper, and a very strong motivation. Buggy was right, you weren’t trying hard enough. You needed to change, that was what you wanted, that was why you ran away. You could be what Captain Buggy wanted you to be. You had to.

Luckily, Pippa sat on her bed filing her nails and talking with the man who slept in the bunk next to yours. Marty, you thought he was called.

“You alright, girly?” Marty called as you approached. “You look a little shaken up.”

It took a second for you to realize that he was, in fact, talking to you. Given the cold reception you’d experienced so far, it seemed a bit unbelievable, but he was looking right at you.

“That’s just how she looks,” Pippa said, focused entirely on her nails.

“That was one hell of a shock the captain gave you.” He laughed. “I’m surprised you hadn’t seen his trick before, he musta been planning doing something like this. Those Devil Fruits are something else.”

“You all knew?” you asked, taken aback. “About his—What can he can do, I mean.”

“Don’t take it too hard,” Marty said. “He did you a favor. Before now, nobody knew what to make of you. Now you’re… I dunno, you’re more like-”

“One of us. Congratulations,” Pippa said glibly.

You nodded like you understood, still a little dazed, dizzy from sleeping. “Um, are we going to eat soon?”

“You’re too late for that,” Marty said.

“Oh,” was the only response you could manage. While your stomach did pitch a bit of a fit, it wasn’t the first time you’d gone without supper. It was, in some ways, a fitting punishment. You took a deep breath, trying to wake yourself up. Focus. Be brave.

“Pippa?” you asked.

“Yes?” she asked, still focused on her nails.

“You know things about makeup and stuff, right? And clothes and hair and… I was wondering if you could, um, I don’t know… Show me how?”

“Show you how?” she asked, finally setting aside the file to look at you.

“I want to,” you looked around at the colorful cast of pirates, “I want to fit in more, but I don’t know how to do any of that.”

Pippa looked you up and down with an icy gaze, studying you like a test subject before pursing her lips.

“Are those the only clothes you own?” she asked.

You stupidly looked down at the loose sweater and leggings you knew you were wearing as if to check. “Nn-no, I have other sweaters and-”

“I’m aware of your collection of ugly sweaters. Don’t you have anything that isn’t entirely hideous?”

You adjusted your clothes, your shoulders curling in with insecurity. “No.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “You can’t dress like that anymore.”

“When we get to port I can buy something else,” you offered, although you realized with a pang of unease that you didn’t know if you were earning money. Neither Buggy or Cabaji had mentioned any sort of salary.

“No, that won’t do.” Pippa stood up to grab her trunk off your bed, hefting down with ease. With a rattle of metal, she flipped the lid, revealing piles of colorful clothes. “You’re small,” she said, glancing up at you with a frown. She picked through the pile before pulling out something with red and white stripes, giving it a hard look before nodding. “This is too short for me,” Pippa told you, holding it out. “Try it on.”

“Here?” you asked, looking around nervously.

“Promise nobody’s lookin’,” Marty called from the next bunk, watching with a reassuring grin.

Not knowing what else to do, you accepted the dress, holding it up. Casual as it was, the garment was lovely, more outrageous than anything else you had ever put on. Thinking about calling that much attention to yourself made your skin crawl. If you wore it, you would fit in with everybody else.

Buggy said you needed to try. You didn’t have any other choice.

Taking a deep breath, you turned around to hide yourself as much as possible, pulling off your sweater to exchange it for the dress. It didn’t quite fit, although the hem fell around the right place. Pippa came up behind you to tighten the ribbon-like laces that ran up the back of the bodice, tying them in a bow around your waist. When she finished and you turned around to face them, she smiled approvingly.

“Much better,” Pippa said. “If your legs get cold, you could add some stockings. I have some that would match.”

“Can’t I wear it with these?” you asked, pinching your leggings.

“Absolutely not,” Pippa said, wincing like it was terrible to even consider.

“What if the wind blows the skirt up?”

Pippa nodded, returning to the trunk to dig around before emerging with something lacy. “These should fit you.” She tossed them at you to hold up, realizing they were like shorts.

“You don’t think it’s too much?” you asked.

“For this lot?” Marty asked, laughing at the idea.

“I assume you don’t have any makeup,” Pippa said.

“I’ve never even worn any,” you said, tugging your bandana down. Once you experimented with some of mom’s makeup, really just with the lipstick, you weren’t sure how to use most of the products. Dad did not like it.

Pippa sighed. “I’ll get up in the morning and help you. Maybe do something about that hair too. What do you think about twintails?”

You touched your hair, pulling it forward nervously. “I don’t know…”

“You’re a freak, aren’t you?” she asked, raising a carefully tweezed eyebrow. “You’ve gotta look the part.”

#opla buggy #opla buggy x reader #buggy x reader #one piece live action #buggy the clown #my writing #flashbang

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elly99 · 11 months

Text

Golden Hour

Part 4 of 5. Check here for more details.

"Wake up!"

Your phone screamed a recording from one of her Phoning lives. There was no better way to be woken up than by one of her morning calls. It helped you miss her less. And it made you love her more.

You'd been looking forward to this day all week. She was finally coming home. You barely slept last night. All you could think about was her. And that was still the case as you scrambled to get ready, the adrenaline keeping you going, despite running on only three hours of sleep. It was time to make her breakfast like you promised.

You had just begun preparations when you heard the bell ring. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest. You were not expecting her this early. You could not have run to the door any faster, but she knew your code and was already in the hallway.

"Good morning, bunny!" Her eyes light up when she sees you and she immediately runs to you with arms outstretched. She gives you the tightest bear hug and you feel all your anxiety squeezed out of you. All you worries fly out the door she just came through. She was home and nobody could be happier than you.

Except maybe her. "I missed you so much," she whines, still hugging you tight. "I missed this."

"I missed you, too, Min. So much." You finally take a step back to appreciate how beautiful she was. Not that you were surprised. "Babe, you look amazing! I love your highlights!"

"Aw, thank you! And you look adorable, baby! Did you just get out of bed? Your hair looks funny again," she says giggling.

"Yeah, you got here so early! I've only just started on breakfast."

"Sorry, I just missed you too much. Had to get here as soon as I could." She gives you a quick peck on the lips.

Then you realize you owe her something. You cup her face with your hands and give her a gentle kiss in return, closing your eyes and letting time slow down. "I love you, baby."

"I love you, too. Thought you forgot about that one."

"Luckily you reminded me," you wink and spot her blushing a little. "Wanna sit down? I'll just finish prepping breakfast."

"No. I'm going to keep hugging you and you can't stop me."

Not that you'd ever try to stop her hugging you from behind while you prepare food.

"What are you making?" she asks into your back.

"French toast! I also got you some vanilla ice cream and watermelon for later if you want."

"Oh my gosh, really?" She tightens her hold on you.

"Of course, babe. I know you love those."

"I love you more~!"

You almost drop the bread on the ground.

It takes a bit longer to prepare a meal with a clingy bear on your back, so breakfast turns into brunch. But it didn't matter, because with her here, you felt you had all the time in the world.

At the table you both talk about your week, feed each other, laugh together, and you realize you want nothing but this in your future. You just wanted her in your life forever. To see her smile everyday. To make her happy every chance you could.

Even as you put the dishes away, she back hugs you. Even doing the most mundane things, she manages to make you feel like you're in a dream. Despite being fresh out of bed, she tells you you're beautiful. And despite you knowing it already, she never fails to remind you that she loves you.

"Wait on the couch, baby. Let me just get something."

She comes running back carrying your stuffed bunny in one hand and her hair brush in the other.

"Oh, hey! It's Tokki!"

"Take good care of him, ok?"

"Of course I will!" you exclaim, holding the toy close. "I just realized we never named the bear I got you."

She starts brushing your hair. "Oh, I named it after you. I just forgot to tell you. I hug it to sleep every night," she says calmly.

But you were anything but calm after that. "Why are you so sweet, Minji-yah~?" you squeal.

She mouths the words, "I love you," then gets off the couch and hooks up her phone into your stereo system.

"Minji baby," you call. "I have a problem. Can you help me?" you ask, pouting.

She looks up from her phone, flipping her hair slightly, and smiles at you. "Come here," she says gently, beckoning you over. "Come dance with me." Ethereal piano starts playing.

I was all alone with the love of my life She's got glitter for skin, my radiant beam in the night I don't need no light to see you shine

You feel butterflies throughout your whole body. You quickly stand up and practically run into her arms. She holds you by the waist, pulling you close, and in a soft whisper she asks, "What's the matter, baby?"

Completely red in the cheeks with how tender she's being right now, you lock your hands around her and answer shyly, "I'm a little obsessed with you."

"I see," she says, grinning. "Ok, don't worry. Dr. Kim will help you." She leads the dance, pulling you gently back and forth. "What are your symptoms?"

"Um. I miss you all the time. I keep thinking about you. About hugging you. Kissing you. Listening to your voice and your laugh. Watching you play with your hair. Seeing you smile. I didn't get much sleep last night cuz I was so excited to see you again."

"Hmm. It doesn't seem like a huge problem to me," she teases. "It just sounds like you're in love."

You laugh softly. "I guess I am."

You slow down time In your golden hour

"I've been listening to this song a lot, actually. How did you know?"

"Well, in my professional opinion, it seems we're soulmates. I can read your mind."

"Oh, yeah? What am I thinking about now then?"

"Me. Hehe." She gives you a cheeky smile.

"I mean, yeah, but that's obvious. What exactly am I thinking?"

"Mmm, you're wondering whether or not I'm obsessed with you, too."

Goosebumps. "How did you know?"

"Like I said, I can read your mind. Don't you trust Dr. Kim?"

"With my life," you reassure and pull her in for a kiss. "So, are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Don't make me say it again, bro."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she smiles and kisses you back.

You fight the urge to just melt into her arms and instead try to give her your best puppy dog eyes. "Are you obsessed with me, too?"

She stays silent for a while and looks straight at you. Then with a soft smile she nods cutely and pulls you in for a hug. "I'm in love with you."

Can you even imagine falling like I did for the love of my life? She's got glow on her face, a glorious look in her eyes My angel of light

As the song fades out, your small steps come to a stop. Standing still in each other's arms, you bask in the lingering warmth of your first slow dance together.

"Why haven't we done this before?" you ask. "I loved it. I love when you take the lead."

"I'm glad! I really did want to dance with you. Been thinking about it for a while now."

"You were totally trying to rizz me up, weren't you?"

She laughs. "No~! Why would I need to do that, silly bunny? You're already mine," she says with a smirk on her pretty little face.

Who needs makeup when Kim Minji can make the brightest colors appear on your cheeks with just a few words?

Satisfied with her knockout blow, she lowers her arms from around you and takes hold of your hands. "You wanna cuddle and nap, baby? Since you said you didn't get much sleep last night. Doctor's recommendation!"

"I'd love that. Will you be the big or little spoon?"

"Neither. We're the same height, bro."

"You know what I mean!"

She lifts your hands up and plants a kiss on each of them. "I'll be the big spoon so you can sleep."

How was anyone allowed to be this perfect?

Now in her arms, on your bed, windows glowing in the afternoon sun, it was almost the exact same situation you found yourself in a week ago, when you pondered satellite metaphors. But this time around, in her golden hour, your thoughts were at peace. Cozy under the blanket with just her, you left no space for any unrest. You melt into her embrace and quickly let sleep take over.

You wake up to the sunset streaming through your window. You hear her gentle snoring and didn't want to wake her, but you realize that you'd both slept through dinner time. So you slowly get up from her embrace to sit beside her. She looked so pretty sleeping peacefully like this. You couldn't help but play with her hair. You knew she loved when you did. Sure enough, your gentle touch wakes her from her slumber.

"Hey, baby bear. We overslept. It's past dinner time."

"Let's order some food then. What do you wanna eat?"

"You choose! I made brunch, so it's your turn."

"Ok, I'll try to find something interesting," she says, already scrolling through her phone. "Can you spoon me in the meantime? My turn to be little spoon."

She didn't even have to ask. You gently lift her up so you can wrap one arm around her and pull her close.

"And keep playing with my hair, please," she says adorably and smiles when you oblige. "I love when you do that."

It was so soft. Just like everything else about her. Just like your heart for her.

Cuddling in comforting silence, waiting for your food to arrive, she asks, "Have you still been worrying about us?"

"A little."

"But why, my love? You know I love you, right? No matter what."

Your lips curl into a smile. "I know," you say as you kiss her cheek.

"So don't worry. I'm not going anywhere," she whispers and smiles back at you encouragingly.

"I just worry about people finding out. Like, I'm always so scared and I wish I didn't have to be. I know you just like staying home on your off days, and I love resting at home with you, too. But it just makes me sad every time I think about something couples do and realize we can't."

"Like what, baby?"

"Um, like, traveling. I've been thinking about going to Spain with you and seeing all the places where you shot your music videos. Or, like, dressing up nice to go on fancy dates with you. Like to that museum you visited with the members! Or even just going to the cinema and cuddling in the dark while watching a movie."

"We can do that last one at home, silly," she giggles. "And we can try to do more of those things, too! We just need to be careful."

"Aren't you scared?"

"I am. But then I remember I have you and I know everything will be ok. You're all I need."

All you can do is smile and hug her tighter. You, too, had everything you needed right here in your arms.

"You've been thinking about a lot, haven't you?"

"Of course! Haven't you?"

She pauses. "Honestly, I just think about being with you and that makes me happy."

You felt an arrow shoot straight through your chest. Speechless, you bury your face in her neck, smiling profusely.

"I know what you mean, though, baby. I want all of those things, too."

She gently takes your hands and holds on tight, like she'd never let go.

"The right time will come eventually. Then we won't have to hide anymore."

You had never believed in palm reading, but looking at the way your fingers interlocked in the golden light, the way your hands fit perfectly in hers, your future never seemed clearer. It was her. It would always be her.

"Just wait for me, ok?"

"Of course, baby," you reply softly. You didn't care that it was impossible to pull her closer to you. You tried anyway. "Always."

It would be hard, but you'd wait an eternity for her.

"I'm in love with you, Min."

It would be hard, but it didn't matter. Because you were all alone with the love of your life.

#minji x reader #minji #minji new jeans #kim minji x reader #newjeans x reader

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infiniteko · 5 months

Note

There's not many youtubers or coaches who talks about the Truth. The "Gurus" like charging 200$/300$ after coaching just to tell you sit n affirm. Or the most they'll give you some tapes .

But why nobody or very very less "people" gets it is very amusing to me. I am in this community for last 2 yrs. Searched+ read + applied + persisted everything I know how does it feel.

DO NOT FOLLOW EVERY TECHNIQUE, I WAS SUCCESSFUL IN EVERYTHING I TRIED BECAUSE I WAS GOING BEYOND CONCEPTS IN ALL THOSE LOATT,LOASS DAYS. My crave to know more lends me to " " & I'm extremely grateful for myself. I love me. I persist in all the things I desire to know and therefore I'm here realising THAT ,the self.

There's no reason why you shouldn't know the BASE ,, ,, know it then apply it n watch what happens.

Toodles...

Will be Back with Millions of "Success Stories" for the HUMANS. For me I don't call it Success Stories it's Normal.

personally, i've always had an issue with """"coaches"""" charging outrageous prices like $300 for a few EMAILS because it felt to me like they are taking advatange of people who are in desperate situation. $300 is insane, i'm sorry😵‍💫

Before tumblr, we were asked a lot of times on Instagram why we don't charge anything and it's because 1. we are not coaches 2. we don't want to. We could charge something but what is the point of doing that if we received our pointers through free sources ourselves?🤔

We are not teaching you anything new, these are just reminders🤷🏻🧠

imo, i once said it and will say it again, if you ever see someone charging high as hell prices, run.. they will NOT teach you anything you don't already know deep down and that is not already online for FREE 😭 even $10 is too much to pay for something that is (again) AVAILABLE FOR FREE.

Charging $300 for a few emails and tapes that are sold to be "custom" to each customer but in reality aren't, is pure greed and insanity. Idk how any of those "coaches" can sleep good at night🤣

Yes, i know, there are "teachers" like Rupert Spira or Swami Sarvapriyananda who charge something for in-person lectures and in my humble opinion, even i would pay for it because 1. they have very comfortable voices 2. they take time to answer questions from the crowd 3. they put effort into what they are teaching 4. they sit there for HOURS to teach & answer questions + Rupert Spira's books / audio books that are so well written and spoken.

but who am i to talk, it's all ~seemingly~ happening👁️

#advaita vedanta #awareness #nondualism #nonduality #brahman #atman #consciousness #desired reality #nothingness #reality shifting

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echo-exanimo · 7 months

Text

a snippet from the fic im writing

speeding bullet content ahead!!

its a lil angsty but im havin fun with it hehe

for a touch of background, scout noticed snipers last name on an item earlier which is Why he knows that. just. for reference.

"Yeah, mate, not a problem. Let me start some tea."

---

A knock at his door woke Sniper with a start. It was dark outside, hardly time for anybody to be up and about. He slid from his bed, pistol in hand as he went to the door.

"Who's there?"

"...Snipes?" Came the quiet reply.

Sniper set down the gun on a nearby ledge, unlocking the door with a questioning look. "Roo? Why're you out here at this hour?"

"Uhhh," Scout scratched the back of his head. "Couldn't sleep. Ya mind if I-"

The two sat in silence as Sniper started a kettle and set aside a few mugs.

"Y'mind tellin' me why you're out here at..." He checked the clock. "4 in the bloody morning?"

"I told ya. Can't sleep." The easygoing smile he shot the Sniper didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Right." Sniper decided not to press it any further. They could talk over a few mugs of tea.

More silence. It felt stifling without Scout's near constant chatter, the way his presence didn't seem to take up the entire room and instead hardly took up the space of his body.

Sniper stirred a spoonful of honey into one of the mugs before turning and offering it to Scout. "Here. Chamomile." He tipped his head a bit at Scout. "My mother used to make it for me. Helps you ease up a bit."

"Sounds good." He took the mug, and Sniper was struck with how strange his hands looked when they weren't wrapped for work. He sat down across from Scout with a sigh, figuring if he didn't speak, the other man would eventually.

"...Snipes?"

"Mm?"

"You ever think about, uh, home?" His eyes darted to the ground before he looked back up. "Like... The people you miss? Wonder if they'd be proud?"

"Well, my mum and dad don't particularly appreciate my line of work..." He twiddled with the spoon in his mug, mixing even though the honey had long dissolved. "Didn't really have too many others."

"Oh."

Scout fell quiet again, sipping his tea thoughtfully.

"Well, I... I miss my ma. I worry about her, y'know?" He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's been a while since I've been home, she doesn't know where I am... Been a while since we talked."

"Is that what's buggin' ya?"

Scout looked down. "No, not really."

Sniper placed down his mug and watched Scout carefully as he began to speak again.

"It's my brothers. They, uh... These dogtags, y'know?"

His words were scattered in a characteristically Scout way without any of the energy. It made sense, but for a second Sniper didn't quite catch it. The Scout didn't often talk about his background.

"I just can't imagine how worried my ma must be, the third of her sons to disappear into a war she can't know about. She doesn't know I die every single day, she doesn't know what I do, she doesn't know any of it."

Scout looked uncomfortable, scuffing his feet against the legs of the table. "I wanna go home for a bit. Just let her know I'm okay. She doesn't have to know it all, just know I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." His voice got progressively quieter as he spoke, a far cry from the Scout he'd been just a few hours ago, rowdy in the lounge with the rest of the guys, cards and booze and raucous laughter.

"Mate..."

"Nah, nah, I- I know it's kinda dumb. Like. We all have people back home. I just worry for my ma. I should call her tomorrow." He took a long drink of the tea.

Another long silence, but this one felt a little less quiet.

"...If you'd like," Sniper winced at the sound of his own voice breaking through the quiet. "you can stay here for the night. If the company would help at all."

"...Yeah. Thanks."

"Not a problem." He nodded once and stretched. "Can I get you anything else?"

"Uh... Nah, I don't think so. Thanks, Mundy."

The Sniper stood still, having stood to start cleaning.

"Sorry. Shit. I can, uh-"

"No. No, it's fine, I'm just... Not used to hearing that name. Not anymore. But. It's Mick. Mick Mundy."

"..Jeremy Gallagher."

"Irish, mm?"

"Yeah. Irish."

The two were quiet for a moment longer before Sniper continued, empty mug in hand to place into the sink. "Blankets are in the drawer beside you."

"Alright. Yeah, thanks."

Sniper retreated to his bed, quietly groaning as he got settled. "Don't wake me up too early, now."

"No way. I'm tired enough as is."

This earned Scout a tired laugh. "Right then. I won't worry with the alarm. Five minutes to get ready work for you?"

"Yeah."

#tf2 scout #speeding bullet #sniperscout #speedingbullet #sniper x scout #tf2 #tf2 sniper #fanfic snippet!!

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turtlesandfrogs · 1 year

Text

I just saw a post on life pro tips asking how to wake up when you want to instead of sleeping through the alarm or hitting snooze a bunch of times, and was seriously unimpressed by the answers, so in addition to posting there, I'm going to post here.

For reference, I've had to change my sleep schedule several times in my life because of things like milking the cow when I was a kid or being a teacher, though most of these "tips" I learned in the process of helping my spouse who is insomniac to the point that there's no recognizable circadian rhythm. We also both have ADHD, so yeah, definitely understand why this is so hard to do, but it makes such a huge difference. And, as always, what works for me might not work for you, these are just what we've found helpful.

1. Read up on circadian rhythms, because that's what 90% of this is about. Our society really messes with circadian rhythms and makes getting good sleep stupid hard.

2. Figure out when you want to wake up. Figure out how long you think you need to sleep. Add an hour, and subtract from your wake time. So say you need to be up at 5:45. And you think you need 8 hours. So give it 9 hours. Well, congrats, you now get a bed time of 8:45. (Is possible that you don't need this much, so if you find yourself waking up before you need to, congratulations! You can stay up later. Woo!)

3. Go to bed, and get up, at the same. time. every. day. This sucks but makes getting up when you have to do so much easier.

4. Now for the hard part (ha). Stop eating a few hours before your bed time (ideally). No midnight snacking, eat enough during the day so you're not hungry. Stop looking at your phone or other electronics an hour before bedtime. Don't do vigorous exercise in the evening. Drink a cup of two of water (with non-caloric* electrolytes if you have trouble waking up in the middle of the night because you have to pee) before bed.

5. Eat asap, at least a little, when you wake up. Even just a bite will get your circadian rhythm going. I know some people have a hard time in the morning, but if you're consistent, it'll get easier.

6. These two cost money, but are worth it if you have to wake up before the sun or if you struggle: get a dawn simulator alarm clock (life-fucking-changing when I was a teacher and had to get up way before dawn) and one of those lamps for seasonal affective disorder. Use the S.A.D. lamp early in the morning to, again, convince your circadian rhythm that you should be awake.

7. Get some movement in daily if possible. Like, a walk. Dancing in the kitchen. Whatever physical activity you can do healthfully.

8. During the day, practice getting out of bed when you hear the alarm. Like, literally, get in bed, set your alarm to go off in life 3 minutes, act asleep, and then get up when the alarm goes off. Train yourself like a dog. I know it sounds goofy, but my spouse says it helps. I didn't come up with this one, btw. Don't blame me.

9. If you have allergies that effect your breathing, consider running an airfilter at night. Helps me snore less and helps him not hear it as much :p

10. Make sure your room is dark, cool, and quiet.

11. If you do all this and still struggle... see a doctor if you can. Sorry.

*non-caloric because of your circadian rhythm, not because of diet culture. I use a bit of salt, because it does the job and it's cheap.

#sleep #insomnia #tips #sleep tips #hope this helps someone

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gryfferin-gaybies · 1 month

Text

Absence

"I'm here! I'm here!" Harry practically leaped out of the Floo into their living room.

"Shhh," his husband urged. "You'll wake Lily." Draco looked like he was dozing off to sleep himself, cozy on their sofa.

Harry frowned at his watch. "I missed her bedtime story?" It was futile to hope that he hadn't, being it over an hour past their three-year-old daughter's bedtime.

He quietly went into her bedroom to give her a kiss on the forehead before heading off to bed with his husband.

~~~

"I'm here! I'm here!" Harry called, running down the hallway to Draco. He was still dressed in his red robes.

Draco was pacing, biting his fingernails clearly lost in thought. He gave a nervous smile and pulled Harry in for a quick hug.

"What are you doing out here? Why aren't you in the room with her? Would they not allow you?"

"No, no, that's not it at all." Draco's tone was not as reassuring as his words. "Scorpius is healthy. He was born just a few minutes ago. I didn't want to meet him without you here with me."

Harry's heart sank. He'd missed the birth of his second child, his first son. And he'd delayed Draco's chance to hold him.

~~~

"I'm here! I'm here!" Harry announced. But Draco was already cleaning up the remnants of their daughter's eighth birthday party decorations.

"The kids went to the Burrow," Draco informed. "Mr and Mrs—Molly and Arthur were ecstatic when I said they could go. I was just happy to get to clean up in peace. They can deal with the sugar rush." He smiled to himself as he waved his wand to pull a banner down from the wall. "I'm sorry you missed the party, love."

Harry helped Draco clean up their sitting room. "Did she at least like her gift?"

"She loved it, Harry." Draco wrapped his arms around his husband from behind and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, pausing their tidying efforts. "All of her friends were here. There was cake and games. She barely even noticed I was here." It didn't make him feel much better.

~~~

"I'm here! I'm here!" Harry whispered as he slid into a chair next to Ron at Draco's charity banquet.

Draco's eyes landed on him from the podium at the front of the room where he was giving his speech. He smiled and it warmed Harry's heart. He wished he had arrived before the final line of Draco's speech.

~~~

"I'm here! I'm here!" Harry was running toward his family in the train station, still in his Auror robes.

Lily ran into his arms for a big hug. "Dad!"

"You're going to do great, Lily," Harry whispered into her ear and planted a kiss on her forehead.

Draco—with their youngest child Albus on his hip—checked his watch. "Alright, you don't want to miss the train. You're nearing the last boarding call."

With one last nervous glance back at her dads and baby brothers, Lily ran at the wall to platform 9 3/4. Harry's heart ached at knowing he missed their last day to be together as a family, a chance they likely wouldn't get again until Christmas break.

~~~

Over the years Harry continued coming in late and missing important life events. His children's bedtimes. The birth of his second born. Birthday parties. Draco's work events. Nearly every time his children left for Hogwarts. Holidays, family dinners, date nights, the kids' graduations.

Eventually Draco started to feel like he was doing it all alone. He knew that Harry wasn't late or absent on purpose. His job as head Auror was just very demanding. And although Harry didn't need the job, the job needed Harry. No one could do his job quite like he could because no one was quite as powerful.

And while Draco was happy that Harry found his calling, something that he felt gave him purpose, Draco couldn't help but wish it wasn't so dangerous and had more consistent hours.

He hadn't been promoted to head Auror until a week after their surrogate gave birth to Lily. And as grateful as Draco was to have his family, he couldn't say that he'd have been so willing to start it had he known how frequently he would be left to raise their children on his own. The thought alone made him feel awful.

Now standing in his suit, looking at their daughter in her gorgeous wedding gown, Draco fidgeted with his watch. The ceremony was about to begin and Harry wasn't there to help walk his own daughter down the aisle. This was another important moment Draco would go alone. Another moment Lily would have her Papa but not her Dad.

The music began and the wedding party made their way down the aisle. Soon it was time for the bride.

"You look beautiful, dear," Draco said to his clearly nervous daughter. "He's a lucky man and I know you two will be very happy together. I love you so much."

With tears in her eyes, Lily smiled. "Thank you, Papa." She paused to look back at the chapel doors with a frown.

"I'm sorry, honey. You know he wants to be here. Don't frown on your special day." Draco told her what he needed to hear as well.

She nodded and then linked arms with Draco, turning to face the doors the rest of her wedding party had entered, behind which she knew stood her soon-to-be husband at the alter and all of her friends and family gathered in rows to celebrate their love with them. He gave her one last kiss on the cheek before the doors swung open wide.

"Wait!" They took a single step before stopping to turn around to see Harry. "I'm here."

Draco beamed as Harry stepped into place on Lily's other side.

"Dad! I'm so glad you made it!" Lily wrapped her arms around his neck to hug him.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," he whispered with a smile, attempting to minimize the disruption by making sure the audience couldn't hear their conversation. He locked eyes with Draco over her shoulder. "I'm sorry I'm late. It won't happen again. Not anymore."

Draco kept his voice equally as soft. "Harry, don't make a promise you can't—"

"I quit my job," Harry interrupted. Lily let go of him to give him a shocked look, but the music started again before he could elaborate. "Shall we?"

After the ceremony, Draco was able to pull Harry aside for a private conversation. They were in the empty men's room.

"You quit your job? Why? You love that job?" Draco said the moment they were alone. They could hear the party on the other side of the door.

Harry sighed and leaned back against the sink. "I did. I do. But when I realized it was going to cause me to miss my only daughter's wedding, I couldn't keep it up. I tried to say I needed to leave but they told me I couldn't. Told me there was a case that needed me specifically. I just. . ." He stared directly in Draco's eyes with vulnerability he didn't show often. "I couldn't keep letting my family down, letting you down."

Draco closed the gap between them and put his hand on Harry's cheek. "Oh, Harry," he breathed.

Harry turned his head and kissed Draco's palm. "I'm sorry I didn't do it sooner. I'm sorry I've missed so much, Draco."

Draco kissed him on the mouth, smiling against his husband's lips. "Oh, Harry, I'm just so happy."

Harry kissed him again. "We should probably return to the party before I miss even more."

Draco hummed. "Maybe we kiss just a little more first."

#adult drarry #harry potter #draco x harry #drarry fanfic #fanfic #microfic #drarry microfic #prompt #married drarry #Draco x Harry married

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inplut0 · 2 years

Note

I had a decent story idea...I think lol. What do you think about OC and silver foxville dating for like 4 months and never doing the nasty... mainly cause of work schedules and maybe OC has a busted water heater or gas leak at her house and knoxville offers to let her stay with him and they finally do the nasty??

DISCLAIMER: hi this was a very specific request but i hope this works for u LOL!! i haven't edited this yet, so i apologise for any mistakes, this was written at 2am.

WARNINGS: smut, barely any plot, silver foxville<33333

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

you knew that getting a new apartment was long due, but you had hoped that it wouldn't be necessary since the 6-month anniversary with your boyfriend was coming up. you thought it was a good idea to bring up moving in together. it was a little early, obviously, you hadn't even had sex yet. you both thought it was best to wait, not used to the age gap. you didn't mind, of course, but johnny didn't want you to feel like he was taking advantage of you, so you mutually agreed not to rush anything.

your landlord called you at work to tell you that there's suspicion of a gas leak in the building, recommending you to find another place to stay for the night. you had rarely stayed at johnny's apartment, since his work days were long, often returning home after 1am. you texted him, hoping he was free tonight and explained the situation.

after you got off work, he texted you that he'd be home in an hour and gladly would have you over. you quickly got into your car and drove, his apartment about a 10 minute drive away from yours. you parked on the side of the street, assuming you'd be home by the morning and hoping you wouldn't get a ticket.

you walk up to the apartment complex, enter the entry code and head upstairs to his apartment.

knock, knock...

you hadn't waited for 5 seconds when the door flung open, johnny in front of you, his silver hair disheveled, his appearance tired and worn out. you study him, looking him up and down. he was wearing a blue t-shirt, a little tight around his chest, and grey sweatpants.

"come in," he smiled and gestured to the living room. his apartment wasn't too heavily decorated and very simple. large windows on every wall, an impressive bookshelf, a black couch and the most comfortable queen-sized bed you've ever slept in.

for a man, he was quite clean and really took care of himself. he changed his sheets regularly, his house always spotless. even with his long work hours, he found time to clean the apartment. he even bought shampoo and conditioner separately.

"i'm sorry for making plans so last-minute, i didn't know where else to go." you quickly entered the apartment, throwing your bag and coat on the couch and immediately making your way to the bedroom, exhausted after a long day.

"don't worry about it, i was just heading home anyway and you know i would never pass up on an opportunity to see you, doll." he followed you into the bedroom, taking his shirt off and handing it to you, since you didn't bring any of your stuff.

"you're making me blush, knoxville." you chuckled, stripping down to your underwear and pulling his shirt over your head, his eyes running over your body, your curves. you were planning on showering in the morning since your eyes were already heavy with sleep when you were driving, and anyway, you could always shower with him if you wanted to.

you both slip under the silk sheets and meet in the middle of the bed, you put your head on his chest. you look up at him and brush your fingers through his gray hair that you have always adored. once your eyes meet you can't help but smile, feeling safer than ever in his presence. he lifts himself up to connect your lips, initiating a soft kiss that gradually gets more and more heated.

his large hand travels to the back of your neck as he turns you over on your back, him hovering over you, without breaking the kiss. you throw your arms over his neck to bring him closer, completely consumed by his smell, his body. when he bites your lower lip you lift your hips from the bed to meet his, earning a muffled grunt from him.

"are you sure?" he whispers, breaking the kiss and maintaining eye contact. your brain was completely focused on him, the street light outside the only light in the room, one side of his face clearly more visible than the other.

you bite your lip and nod, how could you say no now? the view was just too perfect. his lips return to yours, this time more eager, his tongue in your mouth, one hand trailing down your waist, the other behind your neck, keeping you close to him. you slightly pull his hair and moan into his mouth, more than ready for him.

your hands travel under the sheets to help him remove his sweatpants, discarding of them as he pulls his shirt off your head, leaving you both in your underwear. he trails down to your neck, leaving small kisses and bites while he removes your bra, the clothes piling up into the corner of the room.

you throw your head back, giving him easier access to the crook of your neck, nothing but your panting filling the room. you hand doesn't leave his hair, tugging on the hairs on the back of his head occasionally. you repeatedly lift your hips his, wanting to remove the layer of fabric between you two.

"you're gonna be the death of me, sweetheart." he muffles into your shoulder. you remove your underwear and help him take his boxers off. he chuckles at your eagerness, though still a little nervous, since this is the first time for you two, not knowing what to expect.

your hand travels down his chest to grab his erection and line it up with your entrance. his breathing becomes heavier as he concentrates on your facial expressions.

"you ready, doll?" he whispers, slowly pushing into you right when he hears a quiet "yes" escape your mouth. once he's fully buried himself inside you, he lets you adjust to his length. you hold your breath as he fully pulls himself out completely. you gasp at the loss of contact before he enters you again, this time slightly faster.

his hips start thrusting, not too aggressively, once you've completely adjusted to him. you grab onto his shoulders and close your eyes.

"faster." you command, and he immediately complies, his thrusts becoming more frantic and rhythmic. silent moans escape your mouth when his mouth finds your neck again, nipping at it. he grabs your hand, holding it down next to your head as his hips brush against yours at a fast pace.

you feel him coming closer to his high as he loudly grunts against your shoulder. his hand leaves yours and three fingers travel down to your clit, rubbing small fast circles, hoping that you'll both finish together.

he lifts his head up to watch you, his pace not slowing down. your legs twitch and shake as you moan his name repeatedly, not able to resist the heat building up in your stomach.

"you're so good to me, sweetheart" he says between thrusts, that have become sloppier now, you both reaching your high at the same time. your vision goes black when your orgasm washes over you as you feel his body go limp against yours when he spills inside you, comforted by the fact that you remembered to take your birth control yesterday.

your sweaty bodies stay like that for a few minutes, limbs entwined with one another, not letting each other go. you feel him breathe against your ear and you lightly scratch his back with one hand.

before you can say goodnight, you feel the warm sun on your face and wake up to johnny next to you, hands around your waist, still sound asleep.

"morning," you whisper into his ear, waking him up with a big grin on his face.

"wanna hop in the shower with me?" you tease, knowing the offer is too good to resist.

#johnny knoxville x reader #fanfic #johnny knoxville #jackass x reader #johnny knoxville imagine #johnny knoxville smut #smut #jackass smut #jackass forever

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badgallly · 3 months

Text

The Chosen One Part 6

Hello my loves, how are you? It took me a while to post part 6 but here it is finally. Hope you like it ! Sorry for the mistakes, English is not my first language. stay safe and enjoy! xoxo <3 Note: I put Neymar and Messi as if they were still at PSG ;)

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

7:00 AM

I finish closing my suitcase, phew… I had to put a lot of clothes in there, I went Blair Waldorf and put my best clothes in my suitcase, I know it's excessive for 3 days but after all I've never been to New York before, and it's not every day you go to New York, much less go to NY with Kylian Mbappé, right?

Kylian… after everything that happened yesterday I couldn't help but forgive him, he seemed sincere with his words:

Flashback:

_My intention was never to scare you. I know I was stupid earlier and I've already apologized, despite knowing you for 2 days I think you're a strong and warrior woman. I know I'm being repetitive, but it was because I regretted it before. But I want you to accept my apology, please. I don't want to fight with you tomorrow about the trip Y/n, you are a very delicate flower and I hurt you, I'm sorry?

'Very delicate flower' he said…I catch myself smiling remembering those words, no one has ever praised me with such sincerity. Kylian continues to be an unknown to me, after all, was he the calm or the storm?

In the midst of my thoughts I feel a hand on my shoulder and a voice that I immediately recognized:

_ y/n?? All good ? I get a little scared and see Kylian standing in front of me analyzing my expressions. _ What a scare Kylian, I'm fine. _ is ready? I nodded. So let's go down I have a meeting today I can't be late. _ I agree and pull my suitcase and follow Kylian down the stairs.

Time break

We arrive at the heliport and I see a luxurious jet in the distance, Kylian suddenly takes my hand and smiles which makes my heart speed up a little, I smile back and he guides me to the luxurious jet.

I go in and I'm impressed, I've never been to one before. I've been with millionaire men but none of them introduced me to their luxurious lives and their daily lives. I'm at the door, paralyzed and open-mouthed at the same time, analyzing every detail of refinement and great taste. I feel Kylian's hand going down to my waist and approaching my ear: _Did you like it? I feel goosebumps running through my body at the sudden action: _Yes, it is very beautiful and elegant! I say smiling and looking at Kylian who smiles slightly.

Time Break 3:00 PM

The trip was great and peaceful. It was an 8 hour journey, but everything went well. In the first few hours Kylian and I talked a little, then we ended up sleeping for the rest of the trip.

Right now I'm in the hotel room taking my different clothes out of the suitcase (yes, I exaggerated a little), Kylian appears at the door on the phone:

_Yes, confirmed! At night I will be present and I want a table next to me, as I will be accompanied by a lady. Until later! –y/n I'm going to an important meeting now, but first I want you to get ready and ready at 7:00 pm, remember that team party I told you about? — I nod. Yes, I remember. —So, be ready, okay? Until later! I sign again

Until! Oh my God, I only have 4 hours to get ready? So I have to start soon. I'm going to start doing my nails, I have a lot of work ahead of me…

19:00 I finish putting on the second pair of my earrings. I'm ready! I'm wearing a long black dress with a slit on the leg, I chose it because it's elegant and sexy at the same time, plus it fits like a glove on my body. I admire myself in the mirror and take some photos when I hear footsteps approaching.

I turn around and see Kylian looking at me from head to toe. I blush when I see him looking at me like that.

_You look stunning y/n. _Thank you Kylian. I smile still blushing He extends his arm to me: -let's go ? I nod and take his arm going down the stairs.

Time break

19:40

We just arrived at the event, it's a private team party but there are still lots of paparazzi and people at the door. Kylian holds my hand and we get out of the car. Several flashes are pointed at us –Kylian Kylian! The public and paparazzi scream thirstily for a photo of Kylian, who just waves at them, flashes are also thrown at me. When I suddenly see a little boy coming out of the crowd running towards Kylian with a PSG shirt in his little hands and then I see the security guard holding him and scolding him: —Get out, stupid boy! The brute man says shouting at the little boy he looks sad and with tears in his eyes. I immediately let go of Kylian's hand and shout:

_Hey! Release him and leave him alone! The security guard is scared by my attitude and immediately releases the little boy. I take his small hands and take him to Kylian:

–Hey calm down. I wipe your tears, let's sign this shirt, hmm? The little boy smiles looking into my eyes.

Kylian is standing there looking at the whole situation and gives a smile looking at me and then at the little boy. He signs the shirt, talks, takes photos and hugs the little boy. The little boy hugs me too and is soon called by his mother who thanks me:

–thank you miss! It was his dream, may God bless you!

_it was nothing! Thanks! I smile at his words. Kylian takes my hand again and we enter the room.

_Your attitude is very sweet, y/n, you made that little boy’s day.

_thank you, Kylian. I blush lightly Kylian continues eye contact deep into my eyes until a voice breaks us out of our trance:

_ heyyy brother! A dark-haired man greets Kylian and hugs him hey bro! _ Achraf this is y/n, y/n this is Achraf Hakimi. _ Nice! - we say in unison, greeting each other. Kylian holds my waist and introduces me to his other teammates. He takes me to say hello to the last player with his back turned. _ Hey Neymar! When I hear that name my heart stops and my legs feel weak.

Neymar Neymar was a regular visitor to the club I work for, and he was once my client. He didn't want anything to do with the other girls as soon as he saw me, I became his number 1 girl. He visited twice a week, even though I didn't want to, he paid a lot of dollars for me and I couldn't refuse because it was already helping to pay off the debt I have at the club. Over the course of his visits to the club we became confidants, he told me about his day to day life and I told him my whole story. He offered me several times to pay my debt and get me out of there, but I wanted to do it myself, and I also didn't want Neymar to get involved in this, there are dark things behind this club and I wouldn't want to get him involved. However, he took a break from visiting the club, due to personal problems and injuries he acquired in matches that required care.

_ heyy bro! He turns around and greets Kylian _ I want to introduce you to someone. Y/N I think you already know Neymar.

_neymar this is y/n. as soon as Neymar sets eyes on me, he becomes static and nervous, just like me. I just hope he pretends he doesn't know me.

_my pleasure y/n! says Neymar, stuttering, he greets me with cold hands and pretends to be normal.

_ Pleasure! I say looking away. _ kylian, I'm going to get a drink, I'll be right back! says Neymar, clearly uncomfortable. It goes off like a rocket. _What strange Neymar did you see? Strange…

_I think it's nothing, he just wants to drink earlier to enjoy the night. I say disguising _ it must be. But changing the subject, you look beautiful, y/n, this dress looks perfect on you! _thank you kylian! I look away, looking at the floor. During the party I met other people and some of the players' wives, at this moment I was talking to Antonella, Messi's wife, who is very friendly and nice. I take some selfies and see that I need to touch up my makeup.

I ask Antonella for permission, and I see Kylian with his friends near the bathroom, as soon as he sees me he gives me a wink and I return it with a smile, I go into the bathroom and touch up my lipstick and makeup. As I leave the bathroom I hear a conversation between some men, even though the sound is loud I can still hear the men's conversation and I immediately recognize Kylian's voice:

–Your new girl is hot bro – true, where did the big boy find this cat? – probably another passer of time for Kylian, right brother? His heart is just one and it's called 'rose'. Says a voice that I recognize as Achraf's.

That name ROSE echoes through my head again, I hear Kylian laughing, which just gives me a lump in my throat and a tightness in my heart. I decide to continue walking out of the bathroom when I bump into a very pretty blonde woman.

_look if it's not destiny, then are you Kylian's new 'hobby'?

_who are you?

TO BE CONTINUED…

#kylian x reader #kylian mbappe imagine #kylian mbappe #mbappé #mbappe x reader #kylian imagines #mbappe psg #kylian #kyky #mbappe

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