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pies-writes-and-more · 3 years

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haikyuu boys as expecting fathers

characters: TimeSkip!Tsukishima Kei, Bokuto Kōtarō, & Ushijima Wakatoshi, all with a Fem!Pregnant!Reader

warnings: pregnant reader and mentions of having a baby so pls be mindful if this makes you dysphoric or if you’re not in a good headspace for it. But otherwise, it’s all fluff so I hope it makes you guys smile!

a/n: everyone around me irl is having babies so here is the result of that LOL i love cute stories about expecting families and shit. All of these are obviously with TimeSkip! characters! And none of the following gifs are mine so credits to the original creators! Hope you guys like it :)

haikyuu masterlist

Tsukishima loves to tease the shit out of you, and that hasn’t really changed since you started getting bigger. But now, he’ll hide your cravings in the top shelves of the pantry so you have to make him come get it. He can’t help it, it’s that angry pouty look in your eyes - he’s so in love with you, even when you look like you’re about to murder him.

But despite him hiding everything you could possibly crave, he is an absolute sweetheart. He calls his mom every now and then to update her about you and the baby, probably asks about what she liked when she was pregnant. She tells him stories about liking to read to him and his brother, or how she enjoyed a nice bath if she was particularly sore that day. She even joked that she found it really hard to put her shoes on so typically she just wore slippers or easy to slip on shoes.

Cut to the next day, you wake up to Tsukishima reading a book of dinosaur facts to your belly. He’s not so much reading it as he is disputing and/or explaining further the facts that are written in it. He doesn’t notice you wake up while he waves away the book and states, “It’s fine. When you’re here, I’ll just bring you to my museum and I’ll show you in person. I can sneak you out of daycare, just don’t tell your mom.”

You had hoped to be able to keep your independence for longer than this, but found yourself struggling to properly put on your shoes. You huffed, muttering something to your unborn kid about how you’d hold this over their heads forever, and just waddled about with the backs of your shoes folded under your heel. Tsukishima raised an eyebrow as he noticed, waiting for you to sit down in the car before holding the door open and bending down to properly put your shoes on.

“Kei, what’re you doing?” You laughed, watching him swiftly tie up your laces. “They’re fine, they’re old shoes anyways.”

“If you wear your shoes like that, you’ll fall and hurt yourself,” he shrugged. “I can’t have you hurting the little Tsukishima just because you can’t put your shoes on.”

His expression was the same plain emotionless face as usual, but you smiled anyways because here he was, kneeling in front of you and helping you with what is supposed to be a simple task.

The day went on as usual, but you definitely weren’t prepared for your husband to call you into the bathroom and display the little bath he had drawn you with your favourite candle lit.

“Did you do something?” You asked him with narrow eyes, making him scoff.

He rolled his eyes, helping you out of your clothes gently, “Am I really such a bad husband that you think I’d have to be feeling guilty to be nice to you?”

You thought about it for a moment before nodding playfully, “Yup. So what did you do?” You laugh and he just flicks your forehead before helping you into the tub.

You watch as he smirks a bit, holding your chin for a second and watching your eyes, “Well I’m the reason you got knocked up so I supposed I have to take care of you don’t I?”

He doesn’t hold that sultry teasing look on his face for too long, especially when you splash him with water, drenching every part of him you could reach 😂.

Bokuto is in a PANIC the closer you get to the due date. You once just felt a bit tired after vacuuming and the boy thought you holding your front meant you were going into early labour.

“I’VE GOT THE CAR KEYS BUT I CAN’T FIND MY WALLET!!! BABE HAVE YOU SEEN NY WALLET? I CAN’T REMEMBER WHERE I PUT IT. OMG WHAT IF THEY WONT TAKE US IN. WHAT IF THERE ARE SO MANY BABIES BEING BORN WE CANT GET IN. I KNEW I SHOULD’VE TAKEN A CLASS ON BIRTHING BABIES!”

You let him run around because he honestly is so entertaining to watch while panicking. He pouts about it later, talking shit about you to your belly, “Your mom’s a big meanie. You need to be born quick so we can team up on her okay?”

“Kōtarō! Don’t you dare try to turn my baby against me!” You laughed, swatting at his head.

Man is overly prepared for any sort of situation. He already set up all the safety baby measures, like corner cushions and outlet covers, though now he’s considering locking up all the knives into a cupboard.

“Kōtarō... how am are supposed to cook like this?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at the lack of your sharp cooking knives.. and the butter knives.

The grown man just poured some more, “I gotta keep both my babies safe alright? I’ll cut everything for you so you don’t cut yourself.”

Except for the fact that Bokuto is definitely more accident prone than you are and has a few bandaids on his fingers now.

As an expecting dad, Bokuto found himself getting more and more teary eyed at any situation that involved a family or a baby. Whether that was just seeing kids and families play in the park that the two of you walked past sometimes, or seeing a commercial for diapers with happy bouncy babies, you would turn to see a misty-eyed Bokuto who would then turn to you and wrap you in a tight squeeze.

He was beyond excited at this point to meet your little baby - he wanted to know what they would look like. The perfect mix between the most perfect woman in the world and him, who was pretty cool thank you very much. This baby was going to be the cutest most amazing kid ever, who would definitely play a really great game of volleyball, Bokuto was sure of it.

Let’s be honest though, pregnancy is not an easy journey. Bokuto loved seeing you grow the baby but he knew that it was a difficult process for you. You were always sore and at the beginning you were always sick. And there were some days where you literally didn’t feel attractive or beautiful at all, but Bokuto would praise you as high as he always did regardless.

“You are the most perfect lady I have ever laid eyes on. The most gorgeous being to ever walk this universe!” He told you one day, pressing kisses all over your face as you laid across a couch.

“Thanks,” you tried to give him a smile - you always appreciated his compliments, even if you didn’t necessarily agree.

“What’s wrong?” He asked you with a small frown, noting your forced smile.

“I just… feel bleh. Not at all like how you’re saying I look,” you admitted with a small smile.

Bokuto’s eyes grew wide in shock, jumping over the couch to sit down on the floor next to you. He clasped your hands in his, pressing kissing to them gently as well. “I know you might not feel it… but I hope you know that I still think it. I don’t even have to force it. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met, and that hasn’t changed even though your body is changing a bit. I don’t need you to wear the most perfect makeup or the best dress for me to think you’re gorgeous. You’re perfect just laying here in my old sweats and I’m happy that I get to come home to see you like this every day,” he grinned, touching your cheek affectionately.

You loved this man. He was so sweet to you in every way possible. But sometimes…. sometimes his sweetness just went a little too overboard. You tried to insist to him that you were pregnant but that didn’t mean you couldn’t do anything. Man refuses to let you do anything for yourself. No lifting boxes, no lifting anything in fear that you might hurt your back.

“Kōtarō, it’s just my purse,” you tried to point out in a laugh, trying to reach it as he held it above your head.

“Nope! Not happening. What if you hurt yourself?”

“... with my purse?”

“Ya!”

“Kōtarō, I have to go shopping for food or we won’t have anything to eat. And baby needs to eat!”

“Well I’ll come with you then!”

“You’ve got practice!”

“It’s fine, I’ll tell them I’ll practice another time! My perfect wife and baby come first,” he’d grin at you and insist on opening all the doors as you two made your way to the car. You fall in love with this man more and more every day, even if he keeps stealing things from your hands.

Ushijima is a really nervous new dad, even if you can’t really tell from his stoic expression. He listens intently to all of the parenting advice people give, bought a few books about newborns, and has hundreds of tabs on his laptop of ranging topics from baby products people insist are necessary, mommy blogs about what is important to do when pregnant, and research that he doesn’t quite understand but feels is important nonetheless.

Ushijima isn’t necessarily a man of words all the time, so you were surprised to find that he started to talk a lot more after finding out that your child could hear him.

“You don’t have to play volleyball if you don’t want to,” he told them quietly one day while the two of you were on the couch. It came so out of the blue that you actually thought he was talking to you.

“Hm?”

“... do you think they’d want to play volleyball?” He asked you sheepishly, glancing at you with a shy expression.

You thought about it for a moment and slowly started to smile, “Well they’ll be attending every single one of your games so I’m sure they’ll be at least interested in learning!”

Ushijima nodded and you watched as a soft smile graced his face. You kept your eyes on him for just a moment longer, seeing a flicker of uncertainty on him.

“Wakatoshi, don’t you dare think for one second you’ll be a bad dad,” you warned him, poking his side and making him jump from surprised.

He stared at you for a moment, blinking, “You know what I’m thinking?”

“I know that you’ve been worried about being a good dad ever since I told you I was pregnant. I know that you’re nervous about being the kind of dad you always wanted to have growing up. I know because I’m terrified of being a good mom too,” you admitted with a nervous sort of smile, interlacing your fingers together. “We’ll be okay together though.”

Ushijima nodded and hummed softly, “We’ll have to take them to France.”

“France??”

“Satori wants to meet them too. He said he would make them chocolate.”

It wouldn’t just be the baby that Satori is constantly trying to spoil, but you as well. He sends over packages of his chocolate for you to try, grinning ear to ear when you call him for a catch-up call.

“Do you like them?” Tendō asked, and you could hear him humming to himself as he moved around a kitchen.

“I love them! But you’re going to make us fat if you keep sending them! They’re much too yummy for me to stop eating!” You laughed, eyes wandering to the kitchen where you knew you still had a few bits of his chocolate left.

“No no no no. I’m just trying to make sure your baby is a cute healthy plump baby! They’ll grow nice and strong!”

It always made you smile, knowing that all these people who loved your husband wanted to love you and the baby as well. Even Ushijima’s new teammates would come by and bring snacks or anything they thought might aid you in your pregnancy. Though, Kageyama wasn’t really sure what pregnant people or babies liked, so he just brought a whole bag of the milk boxes he liked.

“You’ve got to grow big and strong so that I can defeat you in volleyball one day. I can’t defeat your dad right now… cause he’s on my team. But I’ll defeat an Ushijima one day for sure,” he muttered to your belly with a fierce intensity in your eyes that made you laugh, making his ears turn red as he realized that you also heard him (Kageyama, the baby is attached to her, of course she heard you lol).

As it neared your due date, Ushijima prepared himself mentally every passing day. He wanted to be 110% ready so he went over your birthing plan mentally at least 10 times a day and reread over all the articles and information he had gathered over the months. He wanted to be the best father possible, but you insisted to him that you weren’t worried about this at all. After all, he was already the best husband you could ever have asked for.

haikyuu taglist (let me know if you’d like to join!)

@al0ehas @aurumk @neko-chii1 @thisnoodlewritesao3 @satan-ruler-of-hells @trashy-simp @jeppiet @tobi-momo @darkvadeeer @haikyuutothetop @livy384 @babyshoyo @jesssobs @b-bakana

#bokuto x reader #ushijima x reader #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu!!

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purpleyellow · 3 years

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It’s not enough

NCT 24th member / Dream 8th member

Bee’s Masterlist

“The remarkable world of Mark Lee’s mind” or, Mark rethinkgs his entire history with Bee.

a/n: I finished it!! Feel free to share your thoughts with me. Requests are open!💛 this gif is peak devastation

All Mark could think when Bee first joined the group was “Thank God for Lee Jeno”.

Noticing that while she didn’t know how to express herself in front of them, Jeno was the first to give her a sense of comfort. Mark, after getting nervous for not knowing how to be helpful, told himself that eventually, Bee would get close to him too. He had a year, after all, to become friends and grow a bond with her.

Except that a year doesn’t last that long and little girls don’t come with instructions.

He knows she cried on his last showcase with Dream. But Mark has a feeling she only did so because of the occasion. She was seeing the seven best friends she witnessed together being separated, and that’s a heartbreaking sight when you know how close they are together.

Two years later, Mark realizes that was his big mistake. It wasn’t on purpose but along the way, he isolated the girl from their original friend group, and maybe it’s what caused some sort of distance in between them.

The year following his departure was an eventful one, and the boy grew a lot, experienced a lot, and learned a lot. The best part of everything being that whenever he met with their little friend group, his spot was intact and everything was the same. Except for Bee. Mark would see how she had inevitably built her own place within the dreamies, and it had him feeling weirdly left out even though they were perfectly coexisting.

They went on being coworkers and labeling each other as friends despite the weird lack of bond, until, of course, the whole “crush” fiasco went down. Mark saw himself and the girl going from, no correlation besides being in the same friend group, to suddenly facing a crisis that revolved around her feelings and his lack of knowledge about how she works.

The image he had of her, was built on a shallow level based on how others perceived her. That’s his second mistake. Jeno, and some of his Hyungs, were almost protective over Bee. Renjun and Jaemin treated her like their personal teddy bear. Haechan, Chenle, and to some extent Jisung were not worth going over in his head, because he thought that if he joked around as they did, she would probably get offended.

So there Mark was, trying to work around, this seemingly fragile character, while finding out that she saw him as a friend more than he did to her. And that maybe all the stress he had gone through to make sure she was being “protected” was worthless and seemingly ignored. He was a bit selfish for wanting to do the right thing simply for others to notice him, but that’s how he knew things. That's how he had to build a career for himself, he needed to get recognition from others to do the things he had done. And maybe connecting everything to work was another mistake.

“What’cha thinking about?” Chenle throws his coat on top of Mark’s head after realizing the practice room wasn’t empty. Though the boy was so deep in thought he didn’t realize the idol had arrived until he announced himself.

“Just life” Mark groans while laying back on the ground, his phone left on the floor next to him. The younger boy walked to the side, taking a glance at the screen before smirking.

“And by life, do you mean someone special?” He teases and Mark's hands fly to the device, the notes app open on the words he had mindlessly typed. He knew Chenle didn’t have time to actually read everything, but the title gave away enough. “The little ballerina”

“I’m trying to see things through a different lens” The Canadian spoke looking sideways at him. Gesturing he continued “Yesterday, I tried talking to her back at the van, but to be honest I had no idea what to say. Apparently, there's no good way to approach it, but I kind of feel like there might be”

“Markie, Markie. Don’t overthink anything. What do we do when we have a schedule that we’re not particularly good at?” Chenle placed a hand behind his ear and waited for the boy to say.

“We go ahead and just do it”

“So do just that” The boy snapped, “Between you and me, Yun-hee doesn't know what she wants. At one point she's all certain about 'moving on' or whatever, yet then when you ask her for any details of what she's feeling, she completely ignores you”.

“You asked her about it?” Mark's head snaps up frowning and the boy nods. “What did she say? Does-”

“Did you not listen to what I just say? She brushed me off” Chenle rolls his eyes “But I think she still likes you if that's worth something. Maybe not the way she did back when Haechan dropped the bomb”.

“What do you mean? Like a friend?” He questions confused, decreasing the younger's patience.

“No, Mark. The same way you like her now”.

“Chenle, I already told her, and all of you, that I don't feel like that towards Bee” Mark’s tone gets more serious and the younger groans annoyed.

“You two are so slow, we literally have to put words in your mouth to get things going” Chenle speaks quicker trying to get his point across. “It's really obvious you care about Bee more than you did at the beginning of last year. And okay, let's say you don't have a little thing for her or whatever, but you do want to have some sort of relationship with her, don't you?”

“Yeah, being friends for once would be nice” Mark nods, sarcastically, and gets up from the floor. “I really just want this all to end”

Mark left the room shortly after and being honest with himself, he felt a little light-headed with everything Chenle just told him. Putting most things aside to revisit once he had a clearer mind, the boy decided to put into use the one good advice he could find in the middle of everything. When you have a particularly hard task, you just have to go ahead and do it.

So with that, his plan was built. And by plan, he means to have no prepared speech, and no questions to ask, instead figure out everything after he finally finds a way of talking to her, which has been harder than anticipated.

A couple of days later, while he went down to the sm cafe before it was time to be at the studio, Mark quite literally froze in place at the sight of a certain Stray Kids member standing near a wall.

Waving shyly at him and Renjun, Seungmin waited awkwardly to see if they would come near him.

"Bee shouldn't take much longer" Renjun caught Mark by surprise, as he approached the boy calmly "Her recording session is almost done, but we can show you the studio if you want to wait for her there"

"No, it's fine" Seungmin smiled, though a little intimidated by Mark's frown. "I'll just sit wherever if it takes too long"

"I'm sorry, you two are going out?" The laugh followed by Mark's question was a little nervous, considering he had only seen the boy a few times yet here he was waiting for Bee to be done so they could do... something?

"No, no. Bee's going to meet Moon, I'm just the intermediate" Seungmin tries to joke but Renjun is the only one laughing. Clearing his throat, he explains further "My group was nearby and we're meeting Ateez for dinner so Moon asked if I could come to pick her up"

"Yun-hee is staying over at her dorm" Renjun adds, glaring sideways at the Canadian. "A sleepover or whatever you want to call it" The three fall silent after he's done talking and Mark runs over an explanation as to why he's feeling so frustrated over this conversation.

He and Bee hadn’t properly spoken since the award show shooting. And while forced interactions were the bare minimum, the boy felt as if the distance they kept had triplicated its length. It made him feel odd to see her act normally with everyone, including a boy she hadn’t spoken to for a year. So why couldn’t they be normal as well?

"Well, I'm going ahead and get a coffee. She should be coming anytime, though being late is kind of expected at this point" The comment from Renjun makes Seungmin chuckle and both boys nod to each other. Turning to Mark, he frowns at his wondering expression "You coming?"

"I'm heading up actually, it's my turn on studio 3" He shakes his head and waves at them. The elevator doesn't seem to take much longer to arrive, which Mark thinks might be some weird doing of fate, considering as soon as he makes it to his floor, Bee is walking along the hallway. Or was, because she changes her path the moment she spots him

Acting purely on instinct might not be the smartest thing to do, the boy thinks to himself while chasing her through the building without any idea of what he wants to say once "catching" her. Maybe Kun hiding Bee in his studio and obviously lying to him was a good thing, or at least it gave him another day to think about where he wants to stand with her.

Ironically, a couple of days after, he's in fact standing in front of a door while thinking if he should or not enter and hopefully settle everything. Mark opens the door slowly, analyzing the small room with two chairs in which she's sitting on one.

“Can we talk now?” He waits for her positive to walk inside and Bee does so by simply nodding. Her eyes looked a little tired and uninterested, but the small tremor on her hands told him how present she really was. And just like the first time they met, her nervousness contaminated him, and they just sat inside the small room without looking at each other in silence.

"I, um, have been thinking about everything since that game night" Mark clears his throat and starts speaking towards the floor "And, not that you owe me anything, but I'd just like to know what happened"

Frowning, Bee quickly glances at him "What do you mean, what happened?"

"When did you start, kind of seeing me in that way. And how did it stop, I guess. It just feels like a lot happened that I'm not aware of, and it's making me look back and reconsider some stuff, I'll explain that later, just let me know what I missed"

Bee thought of how she would put things into words and twirled the ring on her finger, taking a deep breath she tried to make herself comfortable on the chair

"It started around when you came back from the SuperM tour. Or maybe before that, I'm not sure” She sighs and picks at her nails “It seemed like that boy I met was gone after you graduated, and you became this even cooler rapper, you became more confident in yourself, literally embodied SM's favorite child. I sort of became stunned, this feels really weird to say, but I couldn't really recognize you"

Mark slowly looks at Bee while she's talking and carefully listens, he feels a little more comfortable not to look away once she raises her head again. Once she stops, he nods turning his chair a little so they're more face to face.

"You feel out of it after you find out I'm still the awkward boy from before" His jokes make her shrug as opposed to the giggle he expected to hear.

"That happened, but also, you did turn me down" Bee bites her lip regretting the word choice "Not that I'm mad, or really hoped for anything, I simply didn't want to push anything or make things too weird. That's why going back to normal was such a huge thing, but it's been a really long time since then and we still don't know how to do that, I guess"

"Maybe it's because we didn't exactly have a normal, at least not the one we're trying to do right now" Mark catches her attention and she gestures for him to keep going "Thinking back to when we first met, we never got close just the two of us. The others were always around, and even then, I can't recall us sticking together or anything. That might be why you thought I was different"

"It makes sense" The girl mumbles tilting her head and frowning. If he was true, that would mean her crush had been based on this picture of him she drew on her head. And while part of it certainly was, Bee also knows that a little percentage came from his actual responsible yet boyish and kind personality she still appreciates to this day.

"I guess it does" Mark nods reading her face "We should probably find a way to work around that. Just get closer in general, I guess. Find out what our dynamic is like without blending in with the rest of the boys and ignoring each other" He speaks hopefully, but Bee fears it might not work again.

"But, what if this is it for us. We didn't naturally become friends, so maybe accountancies it's what we should stick with" She doesn't know if she meant it, or was scared of this whole 'finding out' deal and its consequences. From what she knew, Bee could easily slip back into her feelings for him and end up breaking her face again.

Yet Mark wasn't having it. He'd spent way too much time, especially lately, noticing how she was comfortable with the others, and the nice chemistry they had. He felt left out, not as in ignored, but Bee was sweet, and a little quirky which also made her funny, but still very caring, and he never denied she was pretty. He wanted to know what it’s like to be her friend like the others are. Though this moment might be the first time he questions if a friendship will be enough for him.

"Let's put an effort this time" He shakes his head dismissing her comment "We can stick around in the practice room a little longer now that our schedules mostly match. And you know, hang out together more, no running away or ignoring each other"

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Bee bounces up her leg and thinks a little bit.

"For what it's worth, we can try. We spent a good time in here and it didn't get awkward, so there’s hope" Mark giggles and she follows him "It'll make the teamwork better if you need a greater good to support your decisions"

"Okay" Bee nods making him shyly hold out a fistbump to her. Making up a quick and weird handshake, they laugh together lighting up the mood a little.

"Just a little request" The girl stops Mark as he's getting up "Let's not rush things, you know. Make it more natural than acting like we're forcefully acting as friends"

"Yeah, sure" Mark pats her head opening the door. And to everyone, especially the dreamies’, happiness, they're a little less awkward around each other.

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matthewtkachuk · 4 years

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feel something pt 5 - jj maybank

On the outside, you’re a kook princess with a seemingly perfect life and a perfect family. The expectations are suffocating you, to the point where the only thing you feel is numb. You’re chasing different coping mechanisms in order to feel something. Until a chance encounter with a certain blond pogue you know you’re supposed to hate gives rise to a different kind of feeling.

Warnings: angst, toxic behaviour, poor coping mechanisms, drug usage, mentions of sex, mentions of suicidal ideations (brief), Rafe being a grade a asshole, shitty parents, abuse

Pairings: JJ x reader (eventually), Rafe x reader (slight)

Words: 3.9k

A/N: I have finally delivered more than three lines of JJ content, yall are welcome. Also a little baby bit of angst, but that’s the name of my fic game. I just love Chick sm, protect my small bean 2k20.

series masterlist

(gif NOT mine - if its urs pls let me know so i can credit!!! found on the google)

You don’t know how Chick knows, but she does.

That night, she crawls into bed with you, desperately seeking your comfort as her worldview crumbles around her. You can relate, you were about her age the first time you realized that most kid’s parents don’t scream at them like they’re the scum of the earth. The major difference being you were the oldest and you didn’t have anyone to comfort you. With that thought in mind, you make a promise to yourself that you will never let Chick feel a quarter of the shit you went through.

You let her curl into you, arms clutching you tightly, head tucked into your shoulder. One hand of yours smooths her hair, the other holding her just as closely. “Sister day tomorrow?” you ask her quietly. Her only response is a slight nodding of her head against your neck, so you ask, “what do you want to do? The whole day is your choice.”

“Surfing and gumbo.” She mumbles and you can’t help but smile. If your baby sister is one thing, it’s predictable.

“Sure thing bub. Bright and early tomorrow,” you warn her, left hand fumbling to grab your phone from under your pillow before setting an alarm for six am.

She’s out like a light, no response to you. You close your eyes tightly, heart breaking for your little sister. You have trouble sleeping that night, every shifting movement and slight sigh that escaped Chick had you on high alert. Add on to that the guilt of the prior night, the warmth you felt when you thought of having Sarah back and the confusion of what was going on between you and JJ… you didn’t sleep for longer than half an hour at a time.

Six am came early that next morning, predictably right when you thought you might finally be falling asleep. Despite your exhaustion, you were looking forward to spending some quality time with your baby sister. You changed quickly in the dark, letting Chick sleep in an extra ten minutes as you flicked through your bathing suits looking for a bikini top that was a little more secure to withstand some choice waves if you caught any.

“Rise and shine, Chick!” You cheerfully shouted, flicking on the light. She groaned and raised the comforter over head, but you laughed and tore it right off the bed. “C’mon you’re the one who wanted to go surfing and you know the morning is the best.”

She grumbled a bit, but quickly darted to her bedroom to change. You met her in the hallway, smiling to yourself when you spotted her wearing the pink and blue rashguard you had gotten her for her birthday. “Alright, let’s go!” you cheered and raced her down the steps, quickly grabbing your keys from the little bowl that sat on the console table in the entranceway.

“And where are the two of you going?” Your mother sat on the front porch swing, sipping on a large cup of what you assumed to be coffee, raising a single eyebrow at your bikini and jean short combo.

“Sister day,” Chick replied before you could, “Surfing and gumbo.”

Your mothers harsh gaze softened upon gazing at her youngest daughter, smiling before waving the both of you off, telling you to have fun. You grinned at Chick and hopped into your jeep, handing her your phone to queue up a spotify playlist. The two of you goofed off and giggled the whole way to the beach, almost as if the events of the past week hadn’t happened at all.

Upon arriving at the beach, you hopped out of the driver seat and quickly took down your boards from the roof rack, handing Chick hers before setting off onto the beach. You had chosen to drive into pogue territory both for the convenience of hitting up the Wreck after and to avoid a certain kook who had made a certain confession. Plus, it was nice to be judged based on your surfing ability (or lack thereof) rather than how expensive your surfboard was.

Entering the water always felt like coming home. From the first toe dip until you were waist-deep in the ocean, it was like your entire body came alive. There was no feeling like it, when you were a kid your dad had joked that you were a mermaid. You used to spend all day in the water, coming out all pruny and honestly slightly dehydrated, but so, so happy. You and Chick paddled side by side into deeper water, and you sat up on your board to let Chick take the first crack at it. You can’t help but giggle when she wipes out approximately five seconds after popping up. She sputters and throws you an offended glance as she resurfaces.

“Let’s see you do better then,” she yelled at you with as much sass as she could muster so early in the morning.

You grinned at her, eyes watching the rolling water waiting for an appropriate wave. Finally spotting one, you started paddling to try and catch the wave before it breaks. Hopping up on your board by pushing your body up and tucking your feet under you, you stood on your board knees bent and arms relaxed, with your torso leaned forward to help balance. You couldn’t help showing off for Chick; angling your board across the wave, you leant into the turn before shifting your body weight to your front foot, letting your board slide down the face of the wave in a tail slide. You heard Chick whoop, cheering you on, causing your grin to widen.

Returning to her, you both floated on your board side by side for a few minutes, watching the waves crest and break. “Alright little Chick, your turn again, unless you want to ride the white water, I won’t judge.” She gave you a look and you just grinned at her again.

She started paddling towards a smaller wave than the one you rode, and you couldn’t help but cheer when she managed to stand on her board and ride the wave straight in. You hooted and hollered with no care in the world, celebrating your baby sister not eating shit. She was laughing on the shore line as you paddled back towards the shore to meet her.

“Not bad tail spin, y/l/n” you looked up to see JJ Maybank staring at you.

“Oh! Uhm, thank you,” you mumbled, suddenly self-conscious as his gaze traced your body.

“That was a pretty bad wipeout earlier, pretty brave of you to ride that wave after that Little y/l/n” he complimented Chick. At least, you think it was a compliment, it was a little back-handed after all.

Chick being Chick just grinned and said thanks.

“Are you goofy foot naturally, or do you just do it because y/n does?” he asked her seriously.

She looked at him in confusion, “Goofy foot?”

“He means which foot you put forward. I lead with my left,” you explained. A look that was suspiciously close to shock briefly flashed on his face, before he recovered and grinned.

“I don’t know, I guess I just copied y/n,” she admitted, face reddening a little.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Little y/l/n, but why don’t you try putting your right foot forward instead and see if that’s more of a natural stance for you.” He advised her. She looked to you, and you just smiled and shrugged at her.

“Alright, watch this you guys!” She shouted and headed back into the water.

You sat down on your towel, watching Chick take JJ’s corrections seriously as she chased a few waves. “Thank you,” you said a little reluctantly to the blond sitting next to you, his eyes trained on your sister.

He broke his gaze to turn his head to you, “’Course, gotta unteach her your bad habits.” You gasped and shoved him playfully. “Just kidding, your technique is basically perfect.”

It was your turn to turn a little red. You weren’t used to compliments without any ulterior motives. “Thanks, but it’s not that good.”

“What are you talking about? You’re amazing out there.” He complimented you again, causing your cheeks to get redder.

“Oh, look at Chick she’s going for that wave,” You pointed out at your sister, hoping to deflect some attention to her.

“She’s a quick learner,” he commented. You smiled, more than a little proud of your sister.

“She gets that from me,” you bragged, and he laughed, throwing his head back. Your mind briefly wondered what it would be like to run your fingers through his wavy hair before you snapped out of it. “You know, I think this is the longest you’ve gone without calling me princess.”

“I could call you princess if you want, princess,” he smirked at you, but you shook your head quickly.

“Y/n is just fine,” you told him as Chick came running at the two of you.

“Did you see that?” She yelled, “that was awesome!” She stuck her board in the sand before launching herself at you. You laughed, catching her on your lap, listening patiently as she babbled on about how amazing that felt. JJ found himself watching you, thinking this was the most expression he had seen you show, with the exception of your high freak out which he tried not to think about in all honesty. Chick seemed to remember JJ was there, turning to him and thanking him profusely before inviting him to the Wreck with the two of you, “We’re going to get gumbo next, you should come with!”

You sputtered, sure that JJ had better things to do than hang out with you and your little sister, “Oh, I’m sure JJ has other pl-“ you started to tell her but he quickly cut you off.

“Nah, I’ve got no where to be, count me in.” He told Chick, smirking at you causing you to roll your eyes slightly.

“Alright alright,” you sighed before pushing Chick off of you, “dry off a bit first I don’t want you dripping all over my seats.”

JJ had no problem sliding into your backseat, sitting in the middle and leaning forward so that his upper body rested against the center console. You found his closeness a little distracting but you would never admit that, so instead you snapped at him and told him to “put on his seatbelt or you would slam on the breaks so hard he would go through the windshield”. He had grinned like he knew the real reason you wanted him to sit back, which only served to irritate you.

You couldn’t help but think what your parents would say if they knew a pogue was sitting in the back seat of the car they bought you. The more you thought about it, you realized you didn’t really care what they thought. JJ had been kind to Chick and you were just returning the favor. That’s it.

“So what is Chick short for?” JJ asks through a mouthful of french fries, several minutes later sitting across from you and your sister at the Wreck.

“Chicken nugget,” you answer gleefully, stealing a fry. You laugh at JJ’s wide eyes, practically seeing the thought bubble over his head as he considers the stupidity of kook names.

Chick laughs, throwing a fry at you, before responding to JJ, “No it’s not. It’s not short for anything, and it’s not actually my name”

“I came up with it,” you tell him proudly, “Our parents wanted me to be a part of the name decision and let’s just say I was a really creative four year old.”

JJ laughs loudly at that, tipping his chair back on the back two legs. You’re about to tell him off, when Kiara appears out of nowhere to shove his chair back into a regular position. She looks a little confused at seeing JJ hanging out with you and your sister, but she doesn’t look shocked. “I told you not to do that, JJ. It scuffs the floors,” she huffs impatiently at him, before turning to the other side of the table where you sat by chick.

Before she could say anything, you realized this was probably your best opportunity to try and mend the fence you had smashed through with Sarah. “Hey Kie, do you think we could talk?” You asked her timidly. For a second you were afraid she was going to tell you to fuck off, but her eyes flickered towards Chick and she must have thought swearing in front of a thirteen year old wasn’t a good look.

“What about Chick?” Was all she asked, causing you to pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you looked at JJ. The corner of his mouth upturned a little as he shrugged and said he could handle your sister for a few minutes. She threw a French fry at him for that and shooed you and Kie off.

Kie didn’t bother taking off her apron, leading you out to the back alley before turning to you sharply, “You wanted to talk? So talk.”

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry. For how I’ve acted this week and… how I acted before. I’m so sorry that I just followed Sarah instead of trying to stick up for you. It’s just she’s been my best friend since birth and I was scared to lose her, which is really stupid because I ended up losing her anyway-“

“It was really shitty of you,” Kie admitted, looking you in the eye, “I thought we were friends and you dropped me like I was last year’s Gucci or something.”

“I know, and you don’t know how badly I’ve regretted not sticking up for you. You were just like such a good person and such a good friend and I really did you wrong,” you think she’s starting to break a little, her eyes have softened and she’s almost got a smile on her face. “Seriously, Kie, I’m so so sorry –“

Kie cut off your rambling by throwing her arms around you, surprising you completely. “I really missed you.” She pulled back to look at you in the eyes, “but if you ever do me like that again I won’t be so forgiving next time.” You laugh and hug her back tightly, promising her you won’t hurt her again.

“About that stuff you said about your parents…” she awkwardly trails off, but you just shrug a shoulder at her as if to say ‘what are you gonna do’. “Just, I’m sorry and I hope you know you can always come to me if it gets bad like that again.”

“I will,” you promise, before linking arms with her and leading her back to the table where surprisingly JJ hasn’t done anything too stupid in Chick’s presence. The four of you split the French fries on the table, laughing the afternoon away and it all feels… so normal. The empty feeling in your chest is replaced with a feeling of warmth spreading through your bones.

You’re sitting around a fire with the pogues as a boneyard party rages on around you. Despite their initial misgivings about the Kook Princess, and your initial underlying resentment towards them for being good enough for Sarah when you weren’t, they’re nice to you. Welcoming, even. You wouldn’t call it friendship, despite hashing it out with Sarah and Kie, you’re not naïve enough to think a few conversations make you one of them. But the lack of the term princess being spoken aloud is a start.

As you tip your head back and empty the last few drops of your red solo cup, you see Sarah’s eyes flicker to you. She thinks she’s being subtle, but you’ve never known any Cameron, even one with pogue instincts, to be subtle. Sarah is more bull in the china shop than discrete. You know she hasn’t really been drinking tonight, nursing the same cup for over half an hour at this point. You feel a little bad that she’s not enjoying all that a boneyard party has to offer, but there’s another feeling in your chest that you can only describe as “the warm and fuzzies”. Knowing that Sarah is going to do anything she can to show you that she still cares about you is touching.

“I’m gonna go grab a refill, does anyone want?” You offer the group.

“Do you want anyone to go with you?” Sarah asks, she figures she can’t offer to go with you or you might notice her still full cup. You watch her not so subtly look in JJ’s direction, but he’s got his eyes cast out towards the sea, watching the waves crash onto the shore.

“I’ll be fine, Sarah. The keg is just right there,” you point with your now empty cup. “I’ll be right back.”

Carefully navigating the Boneyard is a little difficult in your current state of inebriation, but you reach the keg just fine without any major issues. The major issue shows up just when you’ve finished filling your cup from the keg and stop to take a long sip.

“Really, y/n? A pogue? A fucking pogue?” Rafe Cameron spits at you and glares, “You chose a dirty pogue over me?”

Rolling your eyes, you reply, “What the fuck are you talking about? I didn’t choose anyone?”

“Oh really? Because I saw you y/n. I saw you with him.” He accuses.

“What are you talking about?” You repeat, your annoyance growing with every word that leaves his mouth.

“JJ fucking Maybank. I saw you having lunch with him and Chick.” He all but growls. Oh. That’s what he’s fucking mad about?

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You laugh humourlessly, “I bought him fucking French fries because Chick invited him to lunch after he taught her a few tricks on his surf board. Not that it matters, what I do or don’t do and who I do it with doesn’t fucking concern you!”

He pauses thoughtfully, obviously enjoying the thought that it wasn’t a date, but he can’t stop thinking about the way you were looking at JJ. The way he thought you would look at him. “I thought we had something.” He admits quietly.

“Had something?” You ask incredulously, “What the fuck Rafe, all we had was you giving me fucking cocaine and fucking me a couple of times.” You think you see a flash of guilt, but regular Rafe is back in a second.

“Right, when you let me fuck you the day after you let Topper have you, like the little slut you are.” He answers darkly. Your mouth opens in indignation. Rafe is the fucking worst. His moods are giving you whiplash, yesterday he’s telling you that he cares about you and today he’s calling you a slut? So, yeah fucking your way around Figure Eight – not your proudest moment, but you were fucking spiraling. And you know Rafe isn’t innocent, more hookups than he can probably remember. Fucking hypocrite.

You’re on him in a second, perfectly manicured nail pressed right against his chest as you yell back, “Fuck off Rafe, you have no right to say anything to me, you don’t own me!” You almost can’t control your anger, you’re practically vibrating with it.

“He can’t give you shit, you know that right?” He raises a lone eyebrow at you, taunting you with his smirk.

“I don’t want anything from you or anyone else, got it? Leave me the fuck alone.” You spin on your heel, but he grabs your wrist as you turn to go, and you audibly gasp and wince. He lets go of you immediately, before gently cradling your wrist in his large hand. His face turns red as he takes in the hand sized bruise forming around it, and you can practically feel the anger rolling off him in waves. Rafe’s moods are giving you whiplash – angry to gentle and almost caring and back to angry again.

“Did he do this?” He asks you slowly, dangerously. You resist the urge to snap your wrist back, knowing it will only bring you more pain. You look up at him, confused, so he clarifies, “Did that fucking pogue put his hands on you?” You’re stunned, JJ would never put his hands on you, in anger or otherwise. He’s just being nice to you because he can relate to your struggles with your shitty parents.

“What? No Rafe, calm down JJ didn’t touch me.” You reply, but it’s like he doesn’t hear you.

“I’ll fucking kill him, I swear to God. He put his fucking hands on you?” He lets go of your wrist in order to pull the snapback off his head and run his other hand through his hair.

“JJ. Didn’t. Touch me.” You repeat, slowly and clearly as if you can push the words into his thick, dumb skull. He opens his mouth to retaliate, but you keep going. “The only one who has ever put his hands on me in anger is you Rafe.” You wave your hand over your shoulders that he gripped so tightly they had bruised days ago. His face falls, and he reaches a hand out to you, but you shake your head. “Leave me and my friends alone.”

Maybe friends wasn’t the right word to use, but it rolled off the tongue a lot easier than ‘Sarah, her boyfriend, and her boyfriend’s friends including your old best friend and the guy he’s jealous of for no reason’. No reason because there’s absolutely nothing going on between you and JJ (although maybe you want it to) and even if there was, it doesn’t have anything to do with Rafe.

You’re holding your wrist to your chest subconsciously as you return to the pogues. Pope notices first, his high level of intelligence also lends itself toward being very observant. He elbows JJ hard, the blond turning his head to give his friend a look that practically screams ‘knock it off’. Pope does it again, before gesturing to you with his eyes.

“What happened?” Sarah asked before anyone else could.

“Nothing, I just had a little run in with your brother,” you murmur, shaking off the pain in your wrist as if to prove that you’re fine.

“What?” JJ asked, quickly standing up but you pushed him back down into a sitting position, wincing at the dull ache that resulted in your wrist.

“I’m fine,” you rolled your eyes, not really sure where this dynamic had come from, “he’s just… persistent.” JJ grumbles something about kicking Rafe’s ass, but you’re pretty sure that’s the default setting for JJ’s thoughts on Rafe.

“He’s a dick,” Pope stated matter of factly. You tapped your red solo cup to his in a cheers motion.

“You won’t hear me disagreeing.”

The rest of the night, you sit there with the pogues mind mulling over a million thoughts at once. Occasionally they try to bring you into the conversation, but you just briefly answer before settling back into your thoughts. You can’t stop thinking about the words your father called you or the feel of his hand striking your face. You also can’t stop thinking about Rafe and his moods and his possessiveness. After his confession, things make a little more sense but you still feel like you’ve got whiplash. Lastly, you think about JJ and how quickly he hopped up off the log to go defend your honour or protect you or whatever. Looking out at the dark horizon, you’re just really, really confused.

You don’t realize that JJ is thinking about you too, watching the way the flame of the fire danced across your face, contemplating the feelings he feels growing towards you.

#jj obx #jj x you #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #jj x y/n #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fluff #diverdcwn writes #feel something

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cybernaght · 3 years

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Lost Tomb Reboot aka Reunion: The Sound of Providence Season 2

I swear I wasn’t actually planning to write this thing, instead just opting for random picture spams of the season, starting with every time this show got Zhu Yilong’s Wu Xie wet, because that was a trend I had not expected and kind of lived for.

All that will still happen eventually, but here’s also my five cents on the season, because it is very very important for you to know just how worthy of love it is.

You see, Season 1 was silly and fun, and definitely, undeniably, enjoyable.

Then Season 2 swooped in, and completely won my heart. I cannot even express how much I adored it. Everything about this show is extremely extra in the best possible way; it is likely to have been the most charmingly over the top thing I have ever seen.

(Vague spoilers for : specific monsters, narratively significant moments, fate of the certain characters, including the protagonist.)

Some of it comes from the pace, which speeds up dramatically early in the season, and only slows down marginally to allow characters some breathing room. It’s not just gripping because it makes you want to hit play on the next episode, it also keeps you engaged because you can’t wait to see how the next wild set of events may be resolved and then topped. At about episode ten I was questioning how they could possibly produce a sense of further escalation. At episode twenty, I was wondering if anything can top dramatic impact of whatever was occurring only two thirds of the way through the season.

I need not have worried: every single incredible character moment, every mind-boggling turn of the plot, every single bizarre threat would be blown out of water by the next one.

Partly, this seemingly has to do with the writers attempts to ground the material. I am not sure what the novel contained, but I can discern that it was something along the lines of ghosts, ghouls and various supernatural circumstance. But when you are told “this is a curse”, your reaction is naturally to go, “ah okay, so curses are a thing, and this is one of them, gotcha”. When you are told, “this is a heavy metal poisoning combined with a neurotoxin affecting the victim’s central nervous system and making them violently hallucinate”, your reaction is to question whether this is how metals, toxins, poisons, or, indeed, central nervous systems work in any version of reality.

The show does this a lot. From human shaped swarms of killer moths, to flying brain-penetrating eels, to probably my favourite monster of the moment: the murder clams.

Seriously, I cannot stress enough that this show has murder clams. They move with their clam mussels. They jump with their clam shells. They will murder you in cold blood.

There are ancient “laser corridor” style set-ups, there are shapes made out of fog recording its memory, there are group hallucinations generated by the sound of thunder, there are Mission Impossible style full face masks. There is a character who walked off a gun wound and sarin gas poisoning in order to die in the arms of his lover who looks like his dead sister. And by “looks like” I mean, “played by the same actress”.

There is a whole character of Doctor Churros, who saves our hero from imminent death by washing his lungs with oil.

This, I suppose, ultimately, is how The Lost Tomb Reboot (Season 2 in particular) lures you in. It turns what I saw as the show’s fault in season 1 into its biggest strength by establishing the world in which nothing is too outlandish and everything is possible. It so thoroughly breaks your expectations barometer, you grow to willingly accept whatever is thrown at you.

The most beautiful thing about all of it, is that the fun and games and moments of barely controlled hysteria do not lower the stakes whatsoever. Moreover, somehow this show makes me believe that it could just about do something as irrevocable as, perhaps, killing off the protagonist

You know how you can watch, say, a super hero film, and then the “all is lost” moment happens, and you kind of have to struggle to care because you know that they will pull through. It’s curious to see how that happens, but you don’t doubt for even second that it will. Well, when that moment arrived here, I found myself between ugly sobbing, and going into speculation overdrive to try and figure out how the Reboot would deal with that. By then I have seen that show be an high octave action movie, a supernatural mystery, a horror thriller, a buddy comedy and a spy flick: it was not a massive stretch to imagine it turning into a revenge tragedy.

Wu Xie dying had been building up since episode one, so you had hours and hours and oh-so-many hours to brace for it, and when the tragedy does not strike, the relief is visceral.

Despite all the moments of hilarity (whether intended or otherwise), despite the chaotic turns of the plot, despite how utterly off the charts this show is tonally, when it matters, the narrative is pulled together in a way which not only makes complete sense within the world of the series, but is meticulously set-up, satisfying resolved, and delivers lovely emotional impact. Considering that the moral of the story is a very common “live in the moment”, paired up with “greed is bad”, it was surprising how much resonance its delivery actually created.

Ultimately, however, this show is about found family, and, more specifically, about Wu Xie’s ability to create this family for himself and for every single member of it. He starts as one of the trio, and ends as one of a large group of old allies, new friends, and people he has graced with so much kindness that they follow him until the bitter end.

Lost Tomb Reboot ensures that you get to know them all, and it’s pretty damn hard to not love this misfit group of adventurers in its entirety.

(The only thing I could say is that I wish the series spent more time making sure the viewer knows and likes Zhang Qiling, but it seemingly had little purpose for him apart form sweeping in as an avenging angel every now and then. I get that he is a well established character in the series, and that his whole thing is being deadly and enigmatic, but considering that you got to know the other two legs of the famous Triangle so well, it’s a shame that this one was reserved to mostly being Xiao Ge Ex Machina. It would have been nice to know what he was about apart from “really damn cool”.)

Bai Haotian remained my favourite character. She is cute, sweet, romantic, and, for the lack of a better word, “girly”. She is not shy about her crush on Wu Xie, and is prepared to do a lot of reckless, dangerous things for him. None of the above undermine her intelligence, cunningness and authority. Xiao Bai is a young woman in a position of power, and she absolutely knows how to handle herself; for every time she is a damsel in distress, she gets to be the rescuer. For every time she puts herself in needless danger, she learns to collect herself and plan ahead. For every time she is bossed around, she turns and takes charge. Her journey is not the centred around getting the guy, but around discovering her self-assertion; she finds her place within his team not by being a romantic interest, but through her personal strengths.

My absolutely favourite moment for her came when an antagonist used her affection for Wu Xie to get an upper hand on her, and she gets restrained, knife to her throat. Xiao Bai swivels away, knocks the attacker out and goes to town kicking him, to a great astonishment of this team, as she states that liking someone does not make her weak.

And it doesn’t. Being in love has nothing to do with weakness or strength. Being a young, and excitable, and a woman does not equate to weakness either.

I’m not saying that this show is a feminist manifesto, because it is definitely not that. Every other prominent female character suffers a pitiful fate in service of creating motivation for the men of the story. But it does spend a lot of time making sure you, the viewer, know its heroes well enough to mentally befriend them. And if this means giving the female lead complexity, I cannot possibly be mad at that.

So, this was it. This was the Lost Tomb Reboot. It brought me a ridiculous amount of joy and I will miss it a lot.

And yes, the picture spams will be 100% an excuse to rewatch at least some of it.

PS. Said spams miiiiight be gif based if I figure out a way to colour correct the damn things.

#lost tomb reboot #reunion: the sound of the providence #review of sorts #now with gifs #the gifs are bad though

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 4 years

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Witcher of the Night (Chapter 17)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

UPDATES FOR WITCHER OF THE NIGHT WILL BE PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY NOW IN MY TIME (GMT +8)

CHAPTER 16.1

WOTN MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: You couldn't save everyone and it was a decision to sacrifice yourself for the betterment of a family you've began to hold dear. Your existence in the continent continues to confuse everyone, including you and Geralt himself.

Warnings: Blood? Poor Jaskier. Cusses. Implied rape from fuckin' assholes. No more glitters and rainbows. Bloedzuiger from the games? Gifs of Geralt with jet black eyes? I mean..why? shouldn’t it not be a warning? Heh.

Words: 5.9k

A/N: Anybody missed me?! Heehee! Now, I fookin miss Geralt and Midget together. Damn it. *sits in a corner and cries* I can’t believe I’ve surpassed my own curse where I only reach up to 5 chapters then keep a story unfinished due to lack of inspo and will. 😭😂 (Update has been earlier due to my uncle’s birthday tomorrow and I might not be able to use my laptop. Hehehe) We’re in the middle of the whole fic, bb’s. This is where everything’s going to happen now. Probably might earn some temple scratching somehow. Hehehe.

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB!

Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and this fanfic is definitely from moi. (Credits to bi-jaskier and others who deserves credit for the gifs)

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

7 BILLION PEOPLE IN EARTH. YOUR DIMENSION. There was a myth that seven people might look exactly like you out of the billion that were born. Though, being identical was a once in a blue moon circumstance that held no support or proof that it happened.

Twins even had their own genetic differences, their DNA's were not even the same or even mutually identical to one another.

But, you were transported into another dimension that you didn't know about and based on their conversation and how you've perceived from what they were saying is that you have already been in their hands when it never even happened from the start.

They sounded like they've already seen you somewhere when they haven't at all.

Chevaliers circled around you with their swords sheathed from where it rightfully belongs. They've had a malicious glint in their eyes, dangerous and full of spite. Disgust even included in their humanized souls---if they were even still human. They were looking as if you were an oddball. Judgemental to the fullest; vaguely telling that you were considered as a freak for being the witcher's woman.

Forest green eyes scanned yours, listless but an anomalous situation from the group of uncharitable gallants who seemed to have similar odious characteristics. This cavalier stood out rather than the rest because his eyes held sympathy and not hostility. He was gracile, the same body built as Jaskier. But, wearing no armor just like the vampire you loathed the most. Other than a brown doublet which matches his chocolate colored hair.

He crouched before you, thoroughly scrutinizing your face under his gaze; finding something distinctive or common with the lass that they have captured three days ago, "Wasn't she the one we captured, Ty? That thief named Savia?" his tone held curiosity and astonishment when he saw the exact same face of the woman.

There was no differences except from the aura he could feel. You had her face, voice and body structure. Entirely the same for his wits to disfunction from what he has witnessed.

The scrubbing echo of gravel, dirt and leather made you turn your head to where it was. Tybalt. The fucking vampire who stabbed you on the hip and tried to sell those women away. He was there, right in front of you; grinning like a mad man like he has caught a mouse in the cage, entirely anticipating this moment to capture you once again with purposes you didn't know yet.

Kolby was nowhere to be found. After trying to protect you from the hands of Tybalt, your Hirikka was pushed back by the vampire and his strength, making you screech as Kolby loudly whimpered and growled when he'd stumbled; his back flat from the far distance before skedaddling off through the woods. The simple escape back to where he belonged pinched a your heart because he had already been a part of what made you happy with your stay in their dimension.

You didn't expect his leave to be so early; in the midst of being captured by the hands of real life monsters.

If people were scared of monsters in this world you were currently in, then they should think twice because the cruel form of life in every damn world was the humanity it thrives in; continuing to become cruel, vicious, evil and cunning because people lived to strive more with greed surging through their veins as their own demons try to conquer.

Humanity was everyone's main enemy and not their monsters.

Tybalt gave you a subtle tilt of his head, his grin utterly sinister; those teeth of his never showing the fangs that you have seen back at the marketplace when he was trying to provoke Geralt as he was butchering off his knightly minions.

The break of dawn was coming to a start. Peachy orange glow of the sun hiding began to rest beneath the mountains and clouds that looked the same back in earth. Its glow have made everything more frightening while you were surrounded by a bunch of armored men and a vampire who obviously had strength and skills to kill you in a blink of an eye.

Geralt never scared you because his heart was good. No doubt about that because he had offer you his house from the first day you've met, even treating your wounds and saving you from an Alghoul who wanted to eat your insides. But, Tybalt was different. He didn't appear to be like a person to trust even the slightest except if you were a princess in the castle.

He had his hands on his hips, eyes digging to examine your face. The way he stood held power and cruelty as he clicked his tongue, "S'not the feisty one. I know this maiden's scent. She's the real one, aren't ye', you wench?"

Tybalt abruptly crouched down in front of you, his fingers speedily grabbing onto your roots and turning them in an aching posture that had you growling, teeth barred from the feral reaction. The wrinkles of his nose shown when he defiled your space, abrasing the column of your neck that ignited an intense shiver from the disgust as you cowered away and struggled against his hold.

You've heard Jaskier's footing come to a stand, his doublet spilled with his own blood. Hair all wild and facial expression livid for their sudden visit. The golden, sharp dagger tightened around his fist as he marched heavy steps towards the higher vampire.

But, his assault came to a stop when one cavalier shielded him before he could have Tybalt within reach, strongly punching him in the gut that made him stumble to the ground in less than a second. Jaskier sputtered out droplets of blood, a pointed sword punctuating the tip on his jugular.

Jaskier's pained moans made you snarl right back at the queen's right hand man which made him instinctively tut, "But, the fragrance has a distinctive scent to it now---I don't even know what's runnin' inside the mind of this whore anymore," Pause. Tybalt huffed, scoffing with a grin as he interrogated, "---What did the witcher do to ye'?"

You could feel his terrible breath on your face. His hold unwavering from the resolute strength that he had when you lowly grated through clenched teeth, your eyes screaming elfish because of how you were trying to dillydally in hopes of seeing a white haired witcher to come running towards you with his horse. But, considering how he was probably out to hunt a monster, he was probably busy and distracted. So, expecting the worst was better than awaiting for a moment that will never come.

"Me." you fooled around despite being in the vampire's hold, "---He's doing me. I've waited for the time to say that if someone ever asks me what my lover does---so, worth it, Leonidas."

From your foolish response, Tybalt sneered before nodding off towards the paladins who surrounded both you and Jaskier; sharing an understanding to do what is needed and before you could even turn your head back to check on Jaskier, they were already beating him down to pulp. You've heard more grunts from the twink of a toubadour which made your eyesight go foggy from being hopeless and such a waste to live in their world where you had no magic to keep everyone out of danger, "No! Don't hurt him!" you shrieked out loud, the gallants never ceasing despite of your pleads.

More blood dripped out of the side of Jaskier's lip as he took another strong blow on the gut; making his body jerk that laid from the outstretched land of the meadow. You've uttered one loud scream to catch their attention, noticing the other gallant that you noticed to be standing on a corner was just watching everything unfold like he didn't want to be involved with their horseshit.

"I swear to God, he's a weakling! Stop!---please, stop! You'll have your witcher! I'll give you your witcher just stop!"

With one signal of his head, the cavaliers stopped their battering. Jaskier feebly straightened his limbs over the short grass, coughing out more blood from their corporal punishments, grumbling out a grouse from your choice of words in which you described him with, "Shit. Rat. I've stabbed three knights in the neck for you."

If Jaskier didn't acknowledge that fact and the risk which he has given to keep you alive, you wouldn't have noticed three dead bodies laying on the farthest end of the meadow where the forest began to meet its field.

You've harshly turned your head back to Tybalt, wanting to spit on his face for being one of the best imbecile in their world but decided against it to not irritate him further until Geralt was around. His eyes were livid, staring back at you and in your peripheral vision, you've seen the back door of your house slightly ajar, a slip of a pair of the prettiest blue eyes hidden behind the hatch that made you swallow from the consternation of Cirilla being found and taken with you.

If one person was needed for capture, it should be you; not the princess. If one was to leave their world, it must be you because you didn't belong to their dimension from the start.

One cavalier took his mask off, shaking his head for his black, medium length hair to fall down his neck as he curiously crouched beside you and Tybalt. Features telling you that he was stupefied from what he was seeing with his fixated gaze on your face, "There's a whole lotta' crazy we got here in the continent! The Butcher of Blaviken created bloodbath for this maiden?"

Though, astonishment isn't the only sensation he was feeling when you've felt his fingers graze upon the lines of your ear; seeming to be bawdy and suggestive from the sudden touch and you couldn't help but wrest away from his reach. Howbeit, Tybalt's hand that was yanking on your head made it difficult to.

"Though, this harlot is less feisty than the other! I would rather much have her for tonight,"

The knight's sentence was sheared off when he was strongly pushed by the shoulder from the vampire; his fingers pulling away from outlining your lips with his fingers as he fell on his ass flat on the ground. You've been pulled by the hair to stand, making you pant harsh breaths from how painful it was feeling. Hands were trying to wrench his fingers from your head but his hold was too tight for you to tweak away.

"Ingrith wants her untouched just like the other," Tybalt droned as he pulled you close to him, seeming to be tall as Geralt. His height being an advantage over your small form as he dragged you anywhere he wanted. The knight who was pushed to the ground grunted from how he was assaulted, scowling from Tybalt's shoving as he cackled in a shady manner when he heard the latter set boundaries from their current captive.

"Ye' know ye' shouldn't fuck with a witcher's tart, Allard."

"I would! The weccan' wouldn't mind, does he?" the disgusting cavalier brought his feet to a stand, dusting the grass from his flat derriere as he looked back at Tybalt with a slight tilt of his head; the longer his gaze holds, it turns even more disgusting as he looked like he was undressing you with those dark hues of his, they were the type of stomach-churning that can make you sick in no time, "Oh, she's probably a fuckin' freak like him, lad." the latter stated as a matter of fact, smirking in between his words as he nonchalantly continued.

"---Where's the freak?"

They were making your blood boil by how you could hear they were treating him. Has it been always like this in his world? ergo, he was living a life where people see him ghostly rather than a gifted human as he was seen in your eyes. You couldn't help but sarcastically giggle from their rude speech, "He has a name and it's Geralt. Don't disrespect him like that when you're actually the real freak, Edward." pause. "---You fuckers are worse than any other human." before you can even think twice, spit drizzled on Tybalt's face when you've fumed and barked back, "---More evil than the devil himself and I pray for each and one of you to go to fucking hell,"

"The devil don't exist here, ye' foolish cunt!"

Without any delay or second thoughts, a deafening sound of a slap has rumbled; it was a saddle-sore, the strong smack lingering longer on your cheek as excruciating as it can get. He probably used a little bit of his inhumane strength because of how you've descended down the ground; the side of your head hitting as your whole body fell. Your palms flat on the terra firma, receiving bruises on the edge of your lips because of how you've nosedived in it.

"Rat---!" Jaskier shouted from the background before you've heard the gallants haul him down to kick his face hard.

The asshole squat down to where you were stumbled down, his face showing no pity from what he'd done; slapping you on the face like you deserve it from being all talk and no help, "I suppose ye' don't know where he is. Fair enough then! Let's give er' a lil' bit of a chase---" pause. "---He must try and serve his purpose to the land of Kaedwen other than being a freak of a mutant and slaughtering monsters for coins,”

You spat out the metallic taste of your blood that went inside your mouth, shifting your eyes to where he was bent. You've placed your fingers on your side, gesturing towards the princess who seemed to be shaking and panicking from inside the house, seeing silver clasped around her hands as she was contemplating how to defend you both from the gallants. She had the sword that her and Geralt uses whenever they were trying to train; the weapon which has been in your hands as well.

But, you subtly gestured for her to stand down and hide. It won't be such a nice sight if she did want to help.

"You sound like the castle's loyal pet. Hilarious."

The whole scenario was a fight or flight, and the logical part of your brain screams to cooperate with what they wanted before anything ends up more badly than it can ever get. You lifted yourself off the ground, sitting on the floor while you give Tybalt the death glare as he grinned because he knew the action he did was a trigger for you to comply.

"Where's the other girl?" he chuckled, watching your fists tightened to your sides when you were on your feet. A bloody, deep gash on your cheek when some stone has scratched it and also from Tybalt's whack.

"Don't even think about it, you asshole." you immediately hissed when you knew he was talking about Cirilla. The latter also stood on his feet, tall and confident that his plans were going on the right path today.

"What? She yer' daughter? aren't ye' a child?"

"I'm no child, you fucker! Stop dissing my height like this!---and yes. My daughter. She's my daughter, so don't even think about it!"

Surprisingly, there was no tears seen in your face. They didn't deserve your tears. These people needed to rot in hell, you mindlessly thought to yourself and irritatingly bit on the insides of your cheeks which slightly drew blood from how angered you were. Peering up at the man who was giving you an obvious snicker because he could read that you were succumbing from how they've caught you in hindsight and in a weak position.

The lion cub of Cintra stood behind the doorway, crying her eyes out from how impotent she was because of how everyone wanted her to stay back. Cirilla knows she could help but people who surrounded her wanted not to use her powers as she has yet to learn and control. Hence, she couldn't do anything but watch another person in her life be in a snare or better yet, drown to die in this person's own blood.

So far, hearing those words hurt her heart because she couldn't do anything when you were unconditionally risking your life for her not to be involved because that's what it's supposed to be.

To you, she was being treated more than she can ever expect; the title of a daughter that she didn't knew she missed to need, a mother despite of being not connected through bloodline. But, a woman who would care for her well-being just like how her grandparents did loved her.

Consider herself lucky even though how unfortunate her life began. She received a father and a mother that will risk everything just for her to be safe and she knew she was crying right now because she cared for you; she was concerned like how a daughter would.

Your jaw tightened because you wanted to bash their skulls over and over again until they were dead. They probably was from how you've intellectually murdered them inside your mind since the moment they arrived. You irately peered up at Tybalt, your forehead tightly creased, mouth in a tight frown as you gave him a death stare.

"You want Geralt of Rivia right? then, take me. He'll come after if you take me, just don't kill Jaskier and my daughter."

Jaskier hurriedly shook his head and audibly muttered out his negations to himself from what you had in mind. You were surrendering yourself to them. The bard promised to the witcher not leave your side as much as he would do, but his family was prevailed over the count of cavaliers who came; thinking Geralt was probably there to fight with. But, no. The opposed held a number and Jaskier wasn't mutated nor skilled to know any form of magic for defense.

He knew today will be a loss and after hearing your next words, the humble toubadour knew that you've risked your life again for the betterment of their kingdom and theirs.

"Tell Geralt I seriously need some saving---and I promise this will be the last time I'm needing him again," you forced a smile, looking at the bard with your vermillion all drenched in claret red liquid while trying to send off the meaning that you would be okay while you were away with them.

Nevertheless, he never heard the fast, anxious beating of your heart for what will welcome you to wherever they decide to put you in.

Rough hands shoved you forward, making you look away from Jaskier as you began to take grudging steps to where Tybalt's horse awaits, the image of your smile falling was the last that Jaskier can remember before you left, "---Also, tell him I have a very important secret to say so he better hurry up!"

Scattered skeletons were buried beneath the dank ground of the gloomy swamps. Nightfall has taken its course when Geralt arrived; surprising to say that he arrived earlier than he expected to. Some trees were dead while the others have been cut-off by their limbs from inexplainable reasons. From monsters who probably lived in the area and based on how the moon aligned, it was already midnight; close to morning.

The witcher was wounded. Abnormally drained and in fatigue from using his little spells to slaughter the Bloedzuiger; his arm, back and torso currently in pain due to its acidic blood that splattered him, slightly ruining the body of his armor and the under shirt he wore.

Geralt has used Aard and Igni to fight off the beast and his energy spiked low to the point that he could sleep standing on the ground. But, the idea of his family alone made him push the plan aside because his family was more important than his life.

The latter even took a faster route to arrive and slaughter the beast earlier than his estimated days.

He was just beyond drained and parched tonight.

Long, begrudging sighs left his lips. His hair was sticking all over, eyes still black from the potion he drank, clothes all wet from being shoved under the water and a face too grubby that also held burnt patches that will surely heal in no time. Though, some will probably earn him a scar or two. He was stalking towards his horse, his silver sword that was used for monsters on one hand when the witcher has heard a tiny step of footing that broke a twig, making him slightly turn his head to the quiet noise he heard.

This intruder took more cautious steps closer and he wanted to curse out loud for all the interruptions that made his life more complicated than it already is.

Human. Geralt knew it was human. This person even had a scent to it. She was a woman who had a strong floral fragrance; rose and earthy.

"You shouldn't be here," he lackadaisically declared to no one in particular as he sighed for the hundredth time this day. Heedful of the woman hiding behind a dead tree as he strolled to where Roach waited, ignoring her as he strolled.

Thus, the woman was strong enough to acknowledge a witcher in his full form as she decided to walk towards him, talking in pure fascination to have seen one in the flesh.

"A Witcher. I've heard tales of your kind. Though, I’ve heard new wicked bavardage from town that this particular beast has slayed my own kind for the sake of saving one. Wouldn’t it be wiser to choose the lesser evil or the greater good?" she scoffed before continuing, “---aren’t you quite miserly to have done such thing by killing less or maybe more than a dozen and salvaging yours?”

Geralt dropped the loot that he has ransacked from the monster, dropping them inside his leather bag with a scowl. This woman's tone of voice perking his ears that made him cease his packing.

"You were never just a mere epic," she sarcastically laughed in spite. The timbre of her voice thoroughly distinctive and familiar for Geralt to be incorrect. He gave her a sharp side-eye, his eyes jet black when his mind went in befuddlement after recognizing a face that he managed to memorize since the moment that this certain woman came in his life.

"You're the witcher they're finding. The butcher! You were the reason I was taken! Feckin' Geralt of Rivia, aye!"

She was you.

A face that always keeps his mind going in haywires. Features that can be considered as a strong weakness for the witcher because of how he'd easily let his guard down with just a glimpse of a face that could ruin his resistance over having another woman be prone of peril in his dangerous, hindering life.

Even only hours of being away from you; half a day to be precised. With just by seeing her face tempted him to reach out for what he longed for; to touch the face of the woman who'd felt deep sensations for him---accepting of what he actually was with no judgement in her mind. The ache and worry in his chest was not helping how he yearned to never leave you alone in the first place.

He couldn't help but take a step close to the woman who also had the same height as you. His obsidian eyes staring straight into her soul like he'd seen the devil and he was happy to worship; jaw tight as his lips came with a lour.

Geralt looked utterly monstrous for a person who wasn't used to seeing his kind.

"Midget?"

The woman instinctively took a step back despite of how she was running her mouth a while ago; fear shutting her confidence that she could confront him for bothering a life she also dreaded to live in. Her eyes filled with horror and disgust in which Geralt clearly has seen without the use of his doubled up heightened senses.

She was not his tiny mortal. This woman in front of him was beyond different. The real you wouldn't look at him in sheer revulsion; no profound emotion in those eyes that he was used to seeing.

She had her brows in a tight twist, sending him a nasty glare that got him humming out in distaste from an attitude he wasn't use to seeing with a face like yours, "I'm not a fucking midget! What a shitty name you've got me! Doesn't sound too nice to hear too! Ya' fuckin' brought me ill-fate!"

Geralt was quick to turn around his heel. Brooding once again from the bafflement that got him thinking again. Why did you have a person who looked exactly like you in their world?

"You're not her." he stated as a matter of fact, sounding confident with his assumptions because the witcher knows he is right. Geralt walked over to his horse, huffing out a breath off his nose from sheer displeasure as he heard the woman jogging to where he wanted to go.

"Apparently not. You're mistaking me with another unfortunate little lady then!"

"Who are you?" Geralt didn't bother to give her a glance no matter how he wanted to relieve the longingness to see your face; to know that you were safe in their home with Jaskier and Cirilla, hoping that everybody was protected and safe from anyone.

But, this woman with him was not you. He needed to remember that.

She tightly crossed her arms on her chest, eyeing the brooding man as sharply as the woman could with her maroon colored cloak strapped around her shoulders, the hood off when she'd arrived to have seen him, "The name's Savia, witcher."

"Why are you here?" he timidly grumbled, his silver sword in a scabbard after the fight. Roach neighed aloud, huffing out a breath when Savia was an arm close to her, acting like she didn't like her.

Geralt couldn't help but raise a brow from his horse's sudden actions, bringing up a hand to shush her with his fingers brushing along her mane.

Savia can't help but take a cautious step back at that; his horse's reaction making her feel unwelcome and unwanted by the pair. Though, her blabber mouth couldn't help but run on and on, being all chatty when she was in the verge of being chased down by gallants. Savia knew she could outrun them like she wasn't even being pursued from the start because she has been doing this for years; stealing lots of valuable things then never being found after as she can always escape from the brutal hands of lords, inn keepers, and a whole lotta' more.

"I've escaped! Stolen goods from the castle? Their riches? Serves them right for keeping me in prison! Oh! I could steal yer' coins too, if you want. But, now I shan't retrieve them after telling all my plans! I'm no fool! I'm a skilled thief. Sounds professional, isn't it?"

She couldn't help but giggle, utterly blowing with the wind from the occupation she had; confident regardless of how unseemly her job was to live. Though, Geralt didn't give any negative reactions because he was the last person to judge someone who had an indecent job just to live in their world.

He kills and hunts monsters for a living. It doesn't sound too appealing for a normal human, correct? Hence, he wasn't in the position to criticize a thief especially when this poacher looks entirely like you.

"---I've killed some knights out there just to escape, ye' know? Maybe a bunch! Ye’ can still count em with your fingers!" the witcher ceased ferreting around in his bag when he'd finally given her his attention. The color of his eyes subsiding and turning back to its normal hue. Gold in the middle of the night like star light illuminating her gloom and it made Savia stare at him in awe because of how he typically looked like without the potion and all.

Well, hearing the gossips about him from the women in the brothels and men who shared their wicked tales were really true because the witcher who stood before her right now was a complete knockout who had a terrifying shadow he left behind.

Savia couldn't help but pout her lips inquisitively, catching sight of his amber heavily examining her face with a gist of feeling that she couldn't recognize because of how she has never receive nor experienced the look of love. But, the woman was sure he was only blinded by the fact that the face she had held whatever he holds dear; a person he had in mind that he swore to protect, desire and care for.

Savia has never seen a witcher look considerate and warmhearted. The opposite of what people claimed his kind to be. He was the butcher of Blaviken. Perhaps, she have been a witness of his character changing with one simple cast of a face he claimed to be important.

She knew that midget was too significant to him when his face turned back to normal, stretched in a way that has him looking anxious, bothered and utterly worried from the words he heard.

"I'm wondering how I've been involved by a witcher I never seen or met. They were weird! Got me bruises because I never knew where you were and I couldn't tell where ye' live!" pause. Savia's lips emitted an awkward scoff, "---Those fucking gallants did a number on me for days that I have been imprisoned. They were thinking you would go and save me---oh, shiver me timbers! No obsidian--golden eyed witcher would save me from my demise!"

Geralt torpidly blinked back at her, his forehead tightly creasing; trying to deliberate what was happening. His thoughts immediately skipping to bad ideas and outcomes because of the fact that you had someone looking like yourself.

"They were shitty and off one's rocker! Especially that sorceress because she wanted to cast me under her spell, trying to get me examined because I didn't belong to their world---wondering if I had some sort of magic in me for her to possess. She was batshite crazy!"

He couldn't help but irritatingly shut his eyes, mutely giving himself a talk while he kept his mouth shut; not risking to be heard nor is this woman close enough for her to know what's inside his thoughts. Geralt chose to stay silent, breathing down long heavy inhales and exhales from the drawbacks that suddenly occurred.

Here was destiny starting again.

Savia loudly huffed before him, raising a cocky brow when she hadn't heard that deep, gravelly voice that sounded unfamiliar from the ones she has always been hearing, "Are witcha's always this silent? I've been doing all the talking! It's like you're a mute!"

The Witcher heard footfalls coming from a distance. Two gallants. It was only a pair for now and if the woman didn't took her flight before the entire horsemen arrives, she would be taken again and be behind bars in the fortress of Kaedwen.

Would he save the thief who made everything more complicated by looking exactly like you? Creating a mishap by stealing jewelry from the queen?

Everything he thought about would result in an intense migraine because Geralt know you'll be accused of a crime that was never done by his midget. Therefore, taking you in for captive would end up being like hitting two birds in one stone; they get to have him running off to where the castle is and also have the accused thief who didn't need no convincing because of how Savia showed up in their lives; ruining yours.

"Fuck. Why did you need to show up now and complicate things---even had to fucking steal ornaments from the queen with a face who is utmost valuable to me."

The frustrated question was sent to Savia who stepped back from the latter; his teeth suddenly barred and feral, sharply staring down at her. Totally irritated by what she'd done. Geralt heard metal being dragged out of its scabbard and it took him one turn of his head to be welcomed by two knights who was ready to pounce on him by seeing what he was.

One of his monikers slipped out of their tongues with such disgust and a hitch of their breath. There was no use for killing cavaliers tonight because this woman hardly have been involved in his life, yet he would still save because of having a weakness that seemed unfair for her to have.

Geralt raised his hand towards the taller knight who opened its mouth to shout at his fellow horsemen who held their torches from a far distance when suddenly a string of glowing, white line shot through his head; casting Axii for the men to take despite of how the witcher was feeling low with his energy that has been used prior to hours before they arrived.

It was a simple magical sign where it compromises hypnotic effect; it can be used to calm down people or animals, manipulate their minds or be used to hex enemies. A triangular white symbol surrounded the string of line which paved its way towards their heads; passing through both as they were momentarily stunned, acting as if they were puppets and Geralt had the strings.

Thus, after a while; Savia was astonished to see both armored men attacking each other like they were in a battleground and they were both forgotten.

Yet, it wouldn't last long.

"Witcher! What did you feckin’ do?!" she squeaked, heart beat racing from the adrenaline rush.

Geralt had not taken a second before jumping on his horse, gripping onto her reigns and pulling to turn her around, quickly nudging her to gallop towards the path back to where he could go home.

He needed to come back home. The heavy and worried feeling inside his chest wasn't just the result of overthinking. Geralt knows that there was something happening now and it wasn't good. He needed to know if you were safe, all in complete set of limbs when he sees you, if ever he could even get to again because the dreaded feeling was rising higher in such a toxic amount that would make him blame himself when you're gone.

Geralt couldn't even think straight for even contemplating about the idea that you were gone and out of his reach.

"Leave before they actually kill you. It can only last for seconds due to the energy left in me,"

He'd run off before Savia can even acknowledge his kindness. The Butcher of Blaviken has helped her escape. He wasn't a murderer nor did he hurt her.

"Geralt of Rivia, right?!" she yelled out to no one in particular after watching Geralt leave with his horse. The simple yell has caught the attention of more gallants, seeing the flames of their torches walking their way through the forest and through the swamps that got her zipping her mouth shut. Those two hypnotized gallants falling on the swamps behind her from beating each other to death.

Savia couldn't help but hum in interest, whisper-yelling her next words as if the witcher can hear her amongst his troubled heart.

"---Thank you for letting me escape! you're helpful after all!"

Geralt please axii my puxii LMAO. FEEDBACKS ARE SO MUCH APPRECIATED! (Strikethough over the tags mean I couldn’t find your blog, bb’s.)

Taglist for WOTN: @alyxkbrl @himarisolace @barkingbullfrog @ayamenimthiriel @hellodevilslittlesister @vania-marie @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us @nympeth @amirahiddleston @gabethelobster @dreaming-about-starfleet @uncoolcloudyhead @melaninstylezz @psychosupernaturalhero @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer @marvelousell @kingniazx @angelias134 @tapismyforte @chook007 @covid-donotenter @deadlydemon @cheesecakeisapie @angelofthor @carrieannewaywardson, @plantingmum @stuckupstucky, @shesthelastjedi, @a--1--1--3, @gutfucks, @raynosaurus-rex, @britty443,

Overall witcher taglist: @pizza-eater-i-ate-the-pizza, @crazybutconfidentaf

General taglist for Henry Cavill: @agniavateira, @iloveyouyen, @rahdaleigh, @silverkitten547

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niksixx · 4 years

Text

Need You

Requested: Anonymously

Pairing: Axl Rose x Reader

Description: “The reader is frustrated and kinda stressed out because of her busy schedule, and feeling lonely due to the lack of consolation but she has difficulties in being true to her own feelings so she acts like she’s completely fine despite the situation. But Axl is sure that she needs some loving, which makes her finally admit her thirst is real and he helps her get rid of it? smutty one please”

Warning: Good ol’ smut with some edging!!!

A/N: If you enjoyed this, leave a comment!

*GIF is not mine. Credit to the owner!*

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Y/N’s TO-DO:

Work

Exercise

Cook dinner

Take car for an oil change.

Delivery groceries to parents.

Walk the dog.

Pick up dry cleaning.

Manage a social life.

Manage a sex life.

Try not to breakdown.

The game of life? Exhausting. There’s so much shit to be done and not enough time in the days of the week to do it all. Your life had become a constant cycle of planning, feeling frustrated when you can’t finish everything, and then the frustration turns to anger, and eventually, you give up.

You’d like to think you don’t burnout easily, but after sobbing your way through your third breakdown in two days, you were contemplating your mental health.

No one in your life would know, though. Hiding your feelings was a skill you mastered. There was no time to be vulnerable. Put on a front and smile. That’s what you were always told.

Sometimes though, you wanted someone to see through the lies. The “I’m okay’s” and “I swear I’m fine’s” were just part of the wall you built up to keep people out. Didn’t anyone care enough to break it down?

Even your boyfriend, your sweet, sensitive, loyal boyfriend Axl never seemed to catch on to your true feelings. After two years, could he still not read you?

Even if he could, it was easier to keep everything inside. Feelings could get messy and end up making things worse. Axl was busy planning a tour with the rest of his band, a tedious and stressful project. He probably didn’t have time to deal with your feelings anyway. So, you’d stash them away and just smile, smile, smile.

After a long day of tour planning and various spats with his band mates, Axl couldn’t wait to be in the comfort of his home. His brain was fried, his eyes were tired, and he was ready to take the world’s biggest nap.

Pushing open the front door, Axl grinned as he spotted you at the dining room table. As he approached you, ready to tackle you in a hug, he frowned. Your elbows were on the table, head in your hands, and your eyes were closed. Stepping closer, Axl could almost see the gears in your head working overtime. “You okay, angel?”

“Fine.”

There was something off about your tone. It wasn’t sharp, but it wasn’t convincing Axl that you were truly fine. You hadn’t even looked at him since he’d stepped foot through the door.

“You don’t look fine,” Axl remarked, kicking himself for his choice in words. His hand went to your neck, gently massaging the sides how you liked. Your muscles relaxed briefly before your body tensed up once more. “What’s going on with you?”

And then out of nowhere, you broke down. It started off as a loud cry as sobs shook your body, and then slowly, you began to cry quietly, no sound escaping your mouth.

“Holy fuck, angel, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t take it anymore, Axl!” You spilled everything. “I have so much shit to do and not enough time to get it all done. I’m always working and my job stresses me out, and then when I come home I have to find time to exercise and cook us dinner and somehow manage a social life on top of everything else. I feel like I have no support from you or any of my family or friends and I’m so tired I can’t think straight most days and to make things worse I’ve been really fucking horny but we’re always so busy that--.”

The rest of your words were cut off as Axl drew you in for a much needed hug. Your tears soaked into his shirt as his hands rubbed up and down your back, his way of comforting you. Letting out a breath, you tried to clear your mind, which was exceptionally difficult as it was running a mile a minute. Finally, you pulled away from Axl, your tear-filled eyes boring into his, which were downcast.

“Why didn’t you say anything? I could have helped you. I didn’t realize how overwhelmed you’ve been, baby.”

“I don’t like being vulnerable,” you answered, wiping your cheeks with the sleeve of your shirt. “And I hate that you’re seeing me this way. I know you’ve been busy too with planning a tour and I think it’s wonderful, Axl, I do, but I’ve been feeling upset and alone and stressed the hell out and I just…I don’t know how to handle all the emotions I’m feeling.”

Axl’s heart broke. How could he have been so blind? Fuck the tour. You were supposed to be his number one priority. He could see now that you were obviously in need of some extra love and care, and he vowed that he wouldn’t leave your side for the rest of the evening. “Look at me,” he said, his hands cupping your cheeks. “You’re allowed to be vulnerable, especially around me. We’re partners, remembers? I hate that you’ve been so frustrated and I hate myself even more for not seeing it. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’ve got to be better, I know that now.”

The kiss to your forehead was soft, sweet. It felt good to be held and kissed. While it didn’t alleviate most of your stress, it certainly helped.

“Now,” Axl said, his lips forming a smirk. “What did you say about being horny?”

Your cheeks reddened. “Oh…um…it’s not really a big deal, I just--.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Axl tsked, dragging his forefinger down your cheek, below your bottom lip. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to let me take care of you, okay? If there’s one thing I know about sex,” His lips brushed against your ear. “Is that it’s an incredible stress reliever.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your clothes were strewn all over the dining room as Axl didn’t hesitate in ripping them off your body. He was eager to please you, it was evident in the way his eyes hungrily roamed your body.

He lifted you onto the table with ease, lips sealed against your exposed neck. Your eyes fell shut as his lips devoured your flesh. Axl’s fingers danced across your belly, his cool fingertips providing the perfect contrast against your warm body. His fingers inched lower, lower, until they brushed against your clit, eliciting a whimper from your lips.

“How’s that feel, baby girl?”

His fingers rubbed your clit painstakingly slow in circular, clockwise motions. Axl wanted to take his time with you. He wanted you to feel loved and adored and fulfilled.

His fingers slipped between your folds, the slickness between them aiding as a lubricant, making it easier for his fingers to slid right into your opening. Axl added one finger at first, pumping slowly until you were begging for more. He inserted another finger, and finally a third.

As Axl watched his fingers slide in and out, in and out, you bucked your hips forward, grinding down on his fingers. “That’s my girl,” he praised, leaning over to kiss your lips. “Ride my fingers, baby.”

He withdrew only one finger, continuously pumping two inside of you as his thumb met your clit. Your head was thrown back in pleasure as his delicate fingers explored your pussy. The breath in your throat picked up, becoming fast and labored, and you could feel your orgasm building up. And just when you were ready to cum…

Axl stopped.

“What the fuck?”

“Patience baby girl,” he whispered, dusting a kiss along your temple. His lips trailed the length of your body, licking and sucking at your breasts, your hips, until his head disappeared between your thighs.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you moaned at the feeling of Axl’s warm tongue licking your pussy in different directions, up and down, side to side, in and out. Your hands find his hair and tug, pushing his face deeper to your cunt.

“Axl, please, please, let me cum.” You were full on panting now, lip sucked between your teeth as your thighs squeezed Axl’s head, desperate for a release.

From between your legs Axl glanced up, bulge growing as he watched your face contort in pleasure. When your eyes caught his, he gave you a sly wink before sucking your clit between his lips.

“Axl, please!”

And again, he stopped.

You looked at him, bewildered. “What are you doing? Are you going to let me cum or not?”

Chuckling, Axl gently pinched your clit between his fingers, grinning as you moaned. “Oh baby, you’re going to have the best orgasm of your life. But first,” His lips hovered over yours, eyes dark and sultry. “I want you to taste yourself.”

His lips covered yours, the taste of your pussy on his tongue not pleasant, but tolerable. You’d never tasted yourself before, so there was a first time for everything.

Pulling back, Axl unzipped his jeans, pushing them halfway down his legs. You could see his hard cock hidden beneath the fabric of his boxers and it made your mouth water. Reaching forward, you pulled Axl toward you, palming his length. He groaned deeply, eyes closing briefly before he pulled his boxers down, cock springing to life.

“How do you want it, baby?” Axl asked, twisting his cock in his hand. “Tell me.”

There was only one answer.

“Hard.”

With a smirk, Axl wrapped his hands around the back of your thighs, pulling your body to the edge of the table. The tip of his cock brushed against your clit, and before you could beg Axl to fuck you, he pushed his cock forward, burying himself in your pussy.

Moans and groans filled the room along with creaks from the table shaking. Fisting your hair in one hand, Axl grabbed your hip with the other, pounding into you as your legs went slack. Your slick pussy helped him screw you effortlessly. He’d pull out slowly, and then slam back into you, absorbing your moans into his mouth as he kissed your lips roughly.

“I love this pussy,” Axl groaned, reaching down to rub your clit, never slowing his rhythm. “Feels so good.”

“Harder,” you panted, grasping the back of Axl’s neck. “Fucking harder.”

He obliged, and soon the air started to smell like sex. Your bodies were sweating, breath hot, and neither one of you could hold on much longer.

“Axl, please,” you whined, feeling your legs begin to shake. “God, fuck.”

“Cum for me, angel,” he commanded, thumbing your clit quickly. “Cum all over my cock.”

You exploded at the same time Axl’s cock twitched inside you, spilling his load. Axl covered your mouth as you screamed, not wanting to wake the neighbors. A mixture of fluids dripped down your thighs as you tried to catch your breath.

Leaning forward, Axl captured your lips in a sweet kiss. “I love you. I hope you know that, angel. And I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you lately. I have no excuse, but I promise from here on out, I’m going to be a better boyfriend. I swear to you.”

And you knew he’d keep his promise. You smiled into the kiss, reminiscing about the best orgasm you’ve had in months, all the while forgetting what you were stressed about in the first place.

#axl rose #axl rose guns n roses #axl rose x reader #axl rose imagine #guns n roses #guns n roses imagine

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sooibian · 4 years

Text

Twice As Much

Pairing: Kyungsoo x Fem!Reader

Themes: Fluff, Parents!AU, kitchen disasters, little savants

A/N: This fic was in my drafts for a month now. Little Miss Kim pushed me to complete it. There is magic in the muggle world, after all!

Word Count: 1.1K

gif credits @sichengaf

His tiny footsteps make soft squeaky sounds causing you to shift your focus from the maze of spreadsheets to the 110 cm high intruder. He believes he’s ‘quiet as a cat, sneaky as a spider’ - his newest superhero mantra. You train your eyes on the screen in intense faux focus, clearing your throat and pushing up your glasses up to play along with his little game. He hoists his left leg up and then his right to climb onto the bed, careful not to drop the rather heavy book he has clutched to his chest. He attempts to approach you stealthily despite his mildly laboured breathing. You gasp, as though taken utterly by surprise, as he wraps one arm around your neck and shoves the encyclopedia in your face. Which, you realise, is ginormous compared to his little tubby frame.

He jumps up and down on the bed, excitedly steering your attention to a majestic aquatic mammal, picturesque against the deep green backdrop of the ocean. “Manate-e!” Enthusiasm betrays his low whisper causing his voice to crack. Laughing, you push your laptop away and pull him into the warmth of your bear hug. Your fingers, mock threateningly, ghost over his protruded tummy inviting a flurry of giggles, while the gloriously lolling Miss Manatee rests against a pillow, taking in the mother-son antics.

A deafening clang of utensils crashing on the floor causes his giggles to cease at once. His bespectacled eyes meet yours in bewilderment and concern.

“Sorry ~~~” comes a cry of two in unison from the kitchen, one deep and the other high.

Mirroring you, he shakes his head in disbelief while handing you the remote, a shy smile beginning to curve his plump, heart shaped lips.

“Manatee!” You bolster his enthusiasm with widened eyes. He lets out a small shriek of unadulterated joy and with his pudgy hands, draws your face closer to plant a gleeful kiss on your forehead.

***

Your room is dim and quiet, save for the monotonous yet impactful voice of the narrator and the oohs and aahs of astonishment from the wildlife documentary curator. He seems to be gravitating closer to the screen every five minutes. You drag him back by the waistband of his shorts but he’s far too engrossed in the extraordinary ways of the magnificent sea creature to care for his oscillations or his eyesight.

From the corner of your eye, you catch Kyungsoo tiptoe into your makeshift mini-theatre. Your jaw tightens and your eyes flash him a warning but it's not enough to deter him.

He's briefly taken by the mysteries of the ocean before circling the drain, arguing with you in hushed whispers. “It’s an essential life skill. Look at how well his brother’s doing in the kitchen!”

You shoot a glance at your little savant whose face is now barely an inch away from the wide screen. The deep blues and greens of the screen reflect on his skin as he puckers up to meet the sea cow’s rather large upper lip in an endearing kiss.

Wordlessly, you shift your gaze to meet your husband’s before carefully evaluating his disarrayed form. His apron, that’s usually spotless and snug around his waist, is now drooping and splattered with unsightly hues of red and yellow, bearing ghastly stains of water and oil. Beads of sweat stand in a line along the length of his forehead and his short hair is sticking up in every imaginable direction. Pulling your oblivious-to-surroundings documentary enthusiast in a protective cuddle, you hiss at Kyungsoo, “You’ve left a six year old in the company of all things scalding and sharp. Unsupervised.”

Hands on hips, he stares at you for a brief moment before his brain sends vital signals to his limbs to rush to the rescue of his sacred kitchen, the future of which rests in the tiny hands of a slightly inexperienced, probably endangered sous chef.

You make a quick call to the nearby mandu place - just in case.

***

“Appa! He’s hungry!” Jutting his tummy out, your elder one scampers to Kyungsoo who scoops him into his arms and sings teasingly, “I happen to have just the right cure for this growling monster!”

A Michelin-Star-Chef-In-The-Making, waddles out of the kitchen with a toque blanche perched atop his head nearly masking his bushy black brows and a pristine white serving bowl in his hands - the steam from its contents threatening to fog up the glasses of his pink plastic frame dominating his face.

From your standpoint, he seems pretty pleased with his first kitchen conquest.

The glaring differences in the two boys’ personalities - born minutes apart, never fail to stump you. You remember the days you’d break out in a cold sweat, certain you’d mixed them up - somehow messed up their distinct color coded clothing, the markings on their little tootsies, botched up your complex investigation of their behavioural patterns. The meltdown you’d had one time Kyungsoo tried to force feed one thinking it was the other and left the starving infant bawling.

That incident triggered your first fight as parents.

‘I wish you’d pay a little attention’ you’d snapped at a groggy, sleep befuddled Kyungsoo at three in the morning.

A meek ‘But they’re so.. Identical’ had been his response.

You’d broken into an uncontrollable fit of laughter at the time as tears rolled down your cheeks, while Kyungsoo just stood there, stunned at your sudden, slightly manic outburst. He’d tucked the four of you into bed that night and let you sleep in until a little after midday. You’d awoken not to the sound of an alarm or wailing infants but to the inviting aroma of a wholesome, home cooked meal. How he’d managed that feat with two distracting, hard to please little humans was beyond you. In his steadfast support, unrelenting effort, deadpan humour, the endless conversations in stolen glances, you knew you’d found your harbour.

“Eomma! Try this! It’s chef Gordon Ramsay’s recipe!”, the gastronome delightedly pushes a plate full of tacos that resemble a crime scene toward you - at least he got the Chef’s name right. And Kyungsoo’s famous spaghetti alle vongole looks seriously deprived of some its clam-y goodness. You glance at your husband questioningly but he gives his attention to his food or lack thereof. The piteous spread on the table is self explanatory of the disasters that had manifested in the kitchen, but Kyungsoo isn’t one to easily accept defeat and you’re famished. The younger men of the house, uncaring, engage in stimulating conversation, sharing little nuggets of knowledge with each other.

The doorbell rings just in time.

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zevzevarainai · 4 years

Note

Hey! You ever end up doing essay on the kazumaji gifs? (I'm highly interested because it's always majima o' clock where I live)

it’s always majima o’clock here too; maybe we live in the same area... but lmao i didnt write the essay on my kazumaji gifs because i didnt think anyone would want to hear it so i meant it more as a per request kind of deal. and you’re requesting. I want you to know you did this to yourself, my friend

below the read more for everyone’s well being. welcome to my first official majima analysis essay

ok so in those tags i said something like majima is softest with kiryu because it is absolutely the truth (unless you count makoto, which i love them too, but majima has moved on or at least is making an effort to. and that was pre-tacky snake skin jacket and pre-mad dog persona.)

the prompt for the gifset was “maybe something about majima being stupid and unhinged but like, in a sweet way” and the whole point of this rambling is that kiryu is really the only one we see who causes the mad-dog persona to slip. kiryu says he can never get a read on majima but just because he is unpredictable doesn’t mean he doesn’t understand that he isn’t just batshit crazy. he trusts majima, and finds comfort in his lack of predictability, keeping kiryu’s life exciting and providing distraction from the insane amount of tragic shit that happens to kiryu. and majima has a similar experience of idolizing the yakuza lifestyle as teens/young adults only to have the yakuza drag them through hell. But this is supposed to be about Majima.

ANYWAY what GETS ME is again that mad-dog vibe slipping around kiryu. the only time we really only see it again is with Saejima when he comes back from jail. i’m gonna talk about that later too. LET’s GET TO THE GIFS i’m going in chronological order not the order i put them in

Ok so as an audience, we don’t really know what happened between Kiryu and Majima between Yakuza Zero and Yakuza/Yakuza Kiwami. Yes, we get that tiny ending scene of Majima going KIRYU-CHAN for the first time and Kiryu smiling at him. But we are given nothing as to how they met or why Majima started calling him Kiryu-chan. It is left completely to the audience’s interpretation. Because then it goes straight to the first scene with Majima in Yakuza/Yakuza Kiwami after Kiryu gets out of jail. It implies that they already knew each other, and arguably that they were somewhat close -- close enough for Majima to “miss him.” (What was majima doing for those 10 years, i don’t know, but he clearly wasn’t in a great place, missing both kiryu, makoto, and saejima, we ignore y5 lore in this household or make up shit to fill in the giant gaps) You could argue that Majima missing Kiryu is just Majima being “crazy haha woah” but his character is so much deeper than that, and it’s proven in this gif’s scene. Yes he is fighting Kiryu with all his men. But if you are reading this you understand that them fighting physically all the time is a secret love language. They never intend to severely hurt each other. Fighting is how they know that they have an equal, someone else who was modeled into a weapon because of the Tojo Clan.

And yes, “He belongs to me!” is an extremely gay thing to say. He doesn’t even need to say that, though. One of his men didn’t understand that he doesn’t actually want to hurt Kiryu. The guy picked up Majima’s knife and tried to actually hurt Kiryu. Majima willingly gets stabbed so Kiryu doesn’t get hurt. That’s a handful of gay subtext right there. Majima’s first scene in y1 is about how the world is a horrible, shitty place that will chew you up and spit you out if you care. Then he goes and gets stabbed. Self-sacrificially. He cares about Kiryu, even if it hurts.

This one isn’t as deep. It stems of the same concept of them fighting each other as equals. Majima explicitly says more than once that strength is the most admirable trait, Goromi says that it only matters that a man is strong. Kiryu is the only person who presents a challenge to him. He admires him.

(As a disclaimer, I know a lot of people are uncomfortable with Goromi. I’ve also seen a lot of non-binary, gender-fluid, etc. people project on Goromi and Majima, and I feel like that can only be a good thing. Obviously they deserve more and more quality representation. I think the people who dislike Goromi are valid as well, but for the sake of this argument we are going to see Goromi as the people who project on her do and I’m going to use she/her pronouns when talking about Goromi.)

Regardless on your stance on this whole little side quest, the player has the choice to go along with Goromi which creates actually a lot of subtle connecting between the two of them. Even in just talking to her, we see the mad-dog mask slip. She talks about how much she cared about the girls at Club Shine and wonders how they’re doing. Literally says “all part of my tragic-ass backstory.” And Kiryu sympathizes with it. Says he sees through the “i hated it” bullshit and sees Majima/Goromi’s true self, which is that the cabaret job was hard for Majima because he cared about the women and didn’t like using them as a source of income and knew it would be his fault if they got hurt.

Also, Goromi says that "When I’m with a guy, it’s all about if I’m having enough fun. That’s why he’s gotta be strong.” Sound like someone we know? Someone who we are talking about in the last gif with i-just-got-the-shit-beat-out-of-me-and-it-was-awesome bliss on his face?

Anyway, the scene in the gif is near the end of the session. Kiryu is talking about how he’s been in prison for 10 years, and Goromi says that now that he’s out he should try to relax and and a little fun. Arguably, “since you’re so lonely right now, I’m gonna give ya a hand!” is most of Majima’s role in YK1. Kiryu gets out of prison. Majima wants to fight him all the time and says it’s because he’s gone soft and needs to train. Majima Everywhere presents excitement in his life when everything else is hard and shitty and traumatizing. Yes, Majima kidnapped Haruka. But there isn’t a lot of info on that. Majima says he did it so they could fight but it very likely could have been an order from the Tojo Clan or even Nishiki. Until he develops a bond with Haruka, Majima is, in a way, all he has. Nishiki is mean now. Yumi is ???. Kazama is i don’t even remember but he certainly isn’t any emotional support. He’s lonely. Majima is the only person he has from before prison, and quite possibly the only person who understands what he is going through.

YK2, Kiryu has yeeted out of Majima’s life as Kiryu does, but he’s trying to protect haruka so I’ll let it slide. And what does Majima do now that Kiryu’s not there? Leaves the Tojo Clan. Yes it’s because he doesn’t like the 5th chairman’s style and to make up for Kawamura, but the point is he’s bored. The use of “MY Kiryu-chan” is obviously written there because “haha majima he’s crazyyy” but come on. Majima left the Tojo Clan after Kiryu stepped down as the 4th chairman. Because he was bored. Because he couldn’t trust his own men. The only person he considered an equal just wasn’t there anymore and he found it difficult to adjust. (That’s YEARNING, fellas)

So yes, HIS Kiryu-chan came home, but what is home in this context? It clearly isn’t the tojo clan, so I guess it could be Kamurocho in general. But if the clan doesn’t make it home, what does make it home? Perhaps a certain triangle shaped man??

Oh boy silly Majima wants to fight Kiryu again hahaha weeeeeeeee NO listen, LISTEN, he does want to fight kiryu again, because 1) the man has been bored for a year 2) FIGHTING IS THEIR LOVE LANGUAGE 3) Majima is once again surprising Kiryu in a world where nothing surprises him anymore, where kiryu expects people to be vile and only want him for gain. Every single goddamn game it’s “Kiryu plz save the Tojo Clan plz” and Kiryu NEVER gets anything in return unless you count, i don’t know, Daigo and Haruka’s safety? But Majima doesn’t give a shit about any of that. Majima is one of the only people who consistently does things for Kiryu (even if they’re presented in an abnormal way). Majima is really the only one who makes sacrifices for Kiryu. But this fight, it kicks off YK2 of “hey, i missed you but i won’t admit it because we’re manly yakuza, please let me try to make you smile.”

THE kazumaji scene. Going off of Majima being the only one to make sacrifices for Kiryu, here’s a perfect example. Majima first aids the Tojo Clan which he swore to leave literally only because Kiryu asked him to. Then, here, he get beaten within an inch of his life because he promised Kiryu he would protect Kamurocho from Ryuji. Majima does not give a shit about the Tojo Clan at this point. Yes, Majima LOVEEESSSS beating people up, but he’s fatally wounded. This is not a Majima who would die for the Tojo Clan. This is a Majima willing to die for Kiryu. After warning Kiryu about being to trusting, too.

And of course, we get the Majima collapsing on the pavement and Kiryu rushing in to CRADLE him in his arms like a damn fanfic. You’ve even got the “I did it for you” which everyone knows is basically an “I love you.” Look at Majima’s face in the gif. Bless the Kiwami 2 graphics, first of all. He’s looking at Kiryu like he wants him to be the last thing he sees, like he wants him to know that he’s going out for Kiryu, that despite the fact that he’s about to cough up blood he needs Kiryu to have the information he needs to save the clan and Kamurocho. He’s telling Kiryu all this with labored breath because he promised. Kiryu “One-Expression” Kazuma is viably worried as hell, the little nod in the gif kills me because Kiryu needs him to know he’s touched and he’s so grateful. The only reason Kiryu left him was because there was danger elsewhere and he trusts Kaoru enough to take care of him. (Side note: I love Kaoru Sayama, but I still feel like she’s good enough a character on her own and doesn’t need to be a romantic interest for Kiryu. Like it was like oh... she’s Girl so she needs to fall for the Big Strong Male Protag.... If Majima was a cis girl they would have made out in this game, maybe even y1.)

7) Speaking of sacrifices, Yakuza 3, the game where Majima literally joined the Tojo Clan again because Kiryu wanted him to protect Daigo. That’s a huge lifestyle change, Majima.

Yes, this scene is funny because Majima is riding in a Barbie-ass truck like a 15 year old driving on a learner’s permit in a downpour (yet proves he can drive stick seconds later) and thinks he hit Kiryu while he purposely hit everyone else. Look, Majima needs this ok y3 he looks like he’s been crying since kiryu left no one No One is going to hurt Kiryu now

That truck is likely stolen, he’s driving erratically as fast as he can because Kiryu is in danger, how did he even know that Kiryu was in danger is it like some kind of 6th sense... If you didn’t already know, I would take a bullet for Majima’s voice actor; his delivery of “Kiryu-chan! Where are you?!” could have just been like haha oops kiryu did i hit you ;3 but instead it’s this raw cry of genuine panic, like did his actions get kiryu hurt, Majima could not live with himself if he was the reason Kiryu got fatally hurt

8) Ok I’ve hinted at the fact that I have beef with the Hot Mess that is yakuza 5, wasn’t huge on Y4 and Y6 was fine but it was heavily based on the events of Y5. In my head I’ve got an entire fix-it fanfic in which Majima yeets out to Okinawa with Kiryu after Y3 I could write that upon request too ANYWAY here’s another sacrificial majima...

Despite not caring for Y5, THIS SCENE is RAW. Maybe he’s not super “unhinged” in this scene but it’s just so much. Majima, who Kiryu brokedown in his taxi bc he thought he got killed (because Kiryu made him stay in the tojo clan haha we’re out here crying), chooses Kiryu over Saejima. Saejima, Majima’s oath brother, Saejima. We love Saejima, Majima loves Saejima, but 25 years is a long ass time. Majima changed. Saejima changed. For awhile he had Makoto, but then Kiryu was all Majima had for a good chunk of Saejima’s time in prison. This is the man Majima got his eye stabbed out for defending. But the BaD GuYs that arent memorable enough for me to even look up the names of are like look, we want to watch the world burn because we are Bad Guys, so either you are going to fight your brother to the death or we are going to snipe Kiryu’s daughter in the fucking head. Obviously he doesn’t know that Baba is going to betray them, so he has to pick between Saejima and Haruka. He chooses to potentially kill Saejima for Kiryu’s happiness. I’m sure if things didn’t change, Majima would have held back and let Saejima kill him. Majima would rather die than see Kiryu in pain. Majima would rather kill Saejima/let Saejima kill him than let Haruka die. If that’s not a giant declaration of unconditional love and devotion, I don’t know what else to tell you.

Anyway, thanks so much for indulging me and listening to my yakuza opinions if you made it this far you the mvp :’’’’)

#i can't believe i sat down and wrote this monster #thank you so much for the ask #i love talking about majima and i have no one to discuss it with #distinguishedkingdomwolf #ask #kazumaji

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astraeagreengrass · 4 years

Text

The Queen's Husband [VII/?]

When her reign is threatened, the Queen of Ergona must find a husband to secure her throne.

Word Count: 1.893

Warnings: angst, brief mentions of drowning and stabbing

A/N: The banner gif was found here. Thank you to the lovely @xbuchananbarnes for proof-reading this. I hope you like it ♡

When you were a child, your mother would take you to the seaside during the summer.

Ergona's shore is an angry one. Dark waves crash against the stone barriers of the cliffs in an endless battle, retreating in grey-white foam only to strike again, violent and persistent. Swimming was strictly forbidden, but she'd encourage you to run barefoot in the shell-covered sand, dipping your tiny toes in the freezing water. It chilled you to the bone, shivers sprouting from your legs to the roots of your hair but you loved it.

It was liberating.

The seagulls and the roar of the tide drowned out your squeals of delight, yet, even so, your mother smiled at the way your lips stretched and the wind mussed your careful updo. Under her watchful gaze, you were weightless, no crown or kingdom to hold you back - only childhood glory.

If only those days could last forever.

By the time you were nine years old you weren't so light anymore. Duty began to lurk in the corners of your world and even your mother's loving shelter couldn't stop the flood of laws, customs and obligations that washed away the last of your youth. On your last summer in Geotach, an entourage of tutors followed you and your mother to the coast, occupying your once lively afternoons on lessons in queenship.

You'd fight more often. The lure of power beguiled your innocent mind, and as much as your mother tried to hold you back, the possibilities of your future were too enticing.

"You don't understand!" you seethed. "I'll be the queen, the first of my name. Not a consort like you and not a whore like my father's mistresses. I have to be the best!"

"I want you to be the best, Y/N" she pleaded. "But at what cost?"

Cost was a funny thing - it was always more expensive than you originally thought. At nine years old - nothing more than a child - you believed the price of power would be the loss of fun and games that'd defined your privileged upbringing so far. Nothing can prepare kings and queens for the doubt, the anxiety and the fear that comes with bearing a crown and how pride - dripping from your shallow tongue as you'd talk back to the one person who could actively help you - is a trap.

It was your pride that lead the way as you snuck out of the manor, smirking wider as you passed each oblivious guard, down the stone steps to the sand. It was a siren's voice, whispering in the howling wind, tempting you to dive deeper in the dark ocean because even the sea should bend to the queen's will.

Only you were not the queen yet, you were just a girl.

You were underwater for hours, or maybe seconds. Time was irrelevant and trying to tame it was as useless as your struggle to swim to surface. Your lungs burned, but the water drowned out it’s fire and your helpless screams. And was cold, so cold…

"Y/N?"

Wanda's voice startled you, rousing you from sleep.

"Did you have a bad dream?" she asked kindly.

You frowned.

"It was a memory."

There was a breakfast tray on the coffee table. Twisting your neck, you saw a sliver of daylight sneaking through a narrow crack in the curtains. The fire was out, engulfing the room in frigidity just like that of your nightmare and your joints screamed from the way you slept slumped in the armchair, still in your ball gown.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Wanda coaxed, stoking the embers. Black dust stained the tips of her dainty fingers.

Rubbing your hands for warmth, you said:

"Did I ever tell you about the night my mother died?"

Wanda frowned, taking a seat on the chair to your left.

"Yes, Your Grace. Your mother..."

"Was stabbed to death" you completed after sensing her hesitation. "Just like Uncle Tony."

"Lord Stark is alive, Your Grace. Dr. Banner has assured he'll recover" she stated.

"Yes, but it may take weeks for him to wake up! Meanwhile, Aunt Virginia is without her husband and Morgan is without her father" your closed fist banged on the wooden armrest, but the pain was meaningless. "And it's my fault."

"Your Grace… Y/N. Please don't say that" Wanda pleaded. "There's nothing you could've done."

You rubbed your temples furiously, while your eyes stinged with unshed tears. They choked you, stealing the air from your lungs - just like the furious sea.

"The night my mother died, I had escaped from the manor in Geotach" you recalled. "It was the middle of the night and I wanted to swim in the ocean, despite her always warning me to never do that because the water was too unpredictable. I wanted to prove her that I could do anything I wanted because, in my stupid, reckless mind, that's what queens did."

"She was right about the water, of course. It pulled me under so fast and I barely remember being dragged out. My mother had noticed my absence and warned the guards, so naturally they came for me, leaving her at the house unprotected."

"When we returned we found her body - stabbed over ten times by my math tutor, Mr. Jasper Sitwell. He'd killed her then slit his own throat with a silver dagger, just like Zemo last night. Next to him was a note, with two words: Hail Hydra."

Wanda cursed. The flames from the fireplaces made her auburn hair look almost scarlet.

"You can't blame yourself for this, Your Grace" she whispered.

"Can't I?” you muttered, self-hatred muffling Wanda’s consolation.

"What is Hydra, Your Grace?"

"Legend says it's a secret society of dragon hunters" you explained what little you'd gathered from years and years of research. "I guess one could believe that as much as they can believe in dragons."

"The dragon is the symbol of your house. It is said your ancestors built this fortress themselves using dragon fire" she said.

"There is no evidence dragons ever existed, Wanda" you declared. "Besides, even if they did once, there's nothing left to my family other than skeletons in our closets. I think whatever or whoever Hydra is, they're just trying to destroy me."

Wanda leaned over to whisper something, but a knock on the door interrupted her. You were about to say you didn't want any visitors when she claimed:

"It must be Natasha with Dr. Banner."

That confused you.

"Dr. Banner? Shouldn't he be tending to my uncle?"

"Lord Stark is out of danger, Your Grace. Now we must check if you are."

Of course - your baby. Your hands instinctively went to your stomach as Natasha and Dr. Banner crossed the room. The doctor's kind face was weary and tired from aiding your uncle all night, but still he directed you an encouraging smile:

"Your Grace, I hope I can bring you some good news."

You sighed.

"So do I, Dr. Banner. So do I."

Peter Parker was scared.

Pacing outside the royal chambers, twisting his hands in anxiety, Tony Stark's young squire fought the urge to flee or throw up.

"Keep it together, Peter" he scolded himself.

It was hard to believe that less than twenty-four hours ago his biggest concern was fixing the knot on his cravat - the damn thing kept loosening! - so that he looked perfect to attend his first ball. It was Lord Stark that managed to straighten it, with an amused smirk and a pat to the boy's shoulder. Now his mentor was in a coma while his body struggled to recover from the wounds Peter couldn't prevent.

He was the worst squire in the history of Ergona, but there was one last thing he had to do before scurrying back home

He straightened himself when the doors to your chambers opened and you walked out, followed by your handmaiden, Dr. Bruce Banner and Lady Natasha Romanoff. Peter always thought you looked majestic, the strongest woman he's ever seen, but today you were defeated, with bags under your eyes and a hunch in your pace, as if the weight of the world had finally caught up to you.

Once Dr. Banner bid you his farewells, you turned to Peter, your ladies by your side.

"Mr. Parker" you greeted "What can I do for you?"

The boy cleared his throat and curtsied.

“Your Grace” he said. “Forgive my boldness, but may I speak with you in private?”

You raised one eyebrow, tired gaze softening at the sight of the squire. At the cusp of manhood, Peter Parker was all smooth edges and golden dreams, crushed under the gleam of a silver knife. You uncle had taken him under his wing not less than a year ago,

“Walk with us, Peter” you said, motioning him to step in beside you, Wanda and Natasha close behind.

Your handmaiden claimed that the Keep had been forged from dragon fire, but how could she believe that after spending six winters inside these walls was beyond you. The wind seemed to penetrate the stone, howling through the hallways and halls in an eerie song. The noise drowned out your voice when you said:

“You’re May Parker’s nephew, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Your Grace” he nodded. “She raised me as her own after my parents passed away.”

“She is a very good woman and a skilled seamstress. I have much admiration for her.”

Peter cracked a small smile.

“Thank you, Your Grace. I’ll be sure to pass your compliments along when I return home.”

“You’re planning on going home?” you asked.

“Well, I just assumed I would be stripped from my title, Your Grace” he stuttered. “Considering my failure to prevent the attack on Lord Stark.”

“Lord Stark named you his squire, Peter. Only him can remove your title, not me. And even if I could, I wouldn’t. What happened last night was not your fault.”

You stopped in front of a closed window, but the iron knob was too stiff from lack of use.

“Help me get this open, please” you grunted.

Together, you and Peter cracked the window open, baring your faces to the freezing wind. Through the fog, you could briefly make out the snow covered hills of Albeon.

“The walls of this Keep have ears, Peter” you stated and the boy had to perk his ears to hear you. “I’m sorry about the wind, but it’s noise will drown out what you have to say.”

Peter briefly noticed that Lady Natasha and Mrs. Wanda had stepped back and were now each facing one end of the hallway. No one would dare pass by them.

“Your Grace” he started. “After your engagement, Lord Stark gave me a mission: He commanded me to spy on the King’s father and some other nobles from West Ergona.”

“He was suspicious of the Duke of Arvenia, for reasons he never made clear, but, as his squire, it wasn’t my place to ask anyway. So, during Lord Roger’s stay in Albeon, I traced his movements and reported back to Lord Stark.”

“That man that stabbed your uncle, Baron Zemo. He said something before he killed himself: Hail Hydra. I’ve heard these words before, Your Grace. I’ve heard them from the mouth of Joseph Rogers, the Duke of Arvenia and King Steven’s father.”

A/N: *plays Law & Order theme song* TA DUM

#steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #king!au #king!steve #king!steve rogers #king!steve rogers x reader #king!steve rogers x you #king!steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve x reader #steve x you #steve x y/n #steve x female reader #marvel!au #marvel au

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writerfangirlbooks · 4 years

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Bobby’s Daughter Part 1

Dean x Y/N

Prompt: Imagine flirting with Dean Winchester before he finds out you're Bobby's daughter.

A/N: I know Bobby never had children, but let's imagine for now. I've got a cool idea, for the most part, to go with this prompt. As always, feel free to request any ideas you would like me to write! I've had quite a few Dean ones recently and even more coming up soon. Thanks for sticking with me. Also, I just can't write a story without a backstory, I just need it desperately haha, so enjoy this midnight mess. And uhh, this one gets a little steamier than the others, just a heads up. Also this one is getting multiple parts! Word Count: 1800

Credit to gif owner!

It took you long enough to convince your dad to so much as let you hunt by yourself.

You heard the story of your mom once, and only once. Your dad hated discussing what happened to her. It broke his heart, losing the love of his life. Bobby often declared he didn't know what he would do without you, that you being born was a blessing and miracle tied into one burst of joy in this miserable man's life. That was quite a bit to live up to. Fortunately, you weren't stuck with him all of the time. Once he stopped homeschooling you, you were able to have real interactions and get to know the real world.

Every once and a while, a friend of your father would drop his sons off at the doorsteps to watch for endless amounts of time. Sure, the boys were a couple of years younger, but at least they never said you had cooties. They were excited to be with Uncle Bobby, though they weren't related. It occasionally made you doubt your place in his heart, wondering if he wished you had been born a son instead. However, it was nice to not be made fun of not having a mom and having a drunkard for a father. You saw the brothers young and at one point, hadn't seen them since. It wasn't uncommon for traveling hunters to occasionally leave their children for a weekend or two, so you didn't easily remember all of their names.

Growing up a female was tricky in small-town Iowa, even more so as a hunter. Your father spent some time away hunting when things began to go awry in nearby towns. You started public middle school around age eleven, but your father feared you were simply too young to spend nights by yourself, and you didn't exactly have a bunch of friends to spend the nights at. That ended up causing extra frustration and stress on his plate before you suggested an idea you watched on television: private school.

In a way, Bobby was a better father after you went away. You became more outgoing, learned what it meant to be a lady, and more importantly, how to use that to your advantage. You were encouraged to learn other languages, try extracurriculars. So you did, studying Spanish and French for the rest of your education. You joined the photography club, acted in theatre, and played soccer. You went home on holiday breaks, summer being your favorite as it meant spending more time with your dad. He did his best to be home as often as possible. You got excited to fix cars if it meant spending time with him. Despite his protests, you felt encouraged to hunt, so he gave you pointers. It was years before around age sixteen, he finally allowed your first solo hunt. It was thrilling and unsurprisingly, it went great. He preferred playing board games and watching television with you, making him overall pretty chill.

The one thing he was not a cool dad came to your dating life. You tried getting a boyfriend young and Bobby insisted on meeting him before your first dance. Let's just say the two of you didn't leave together by the end of the night. He was more lenient toward regular, mediocre guys. His one rule was the most adamant: don't date hunters. Fortunately enough for you, most hunters were around your dad's age, so, very much not your type.

That could lead to some very lonely tonights as you became an adult, leading to one night stands in apartments. Of course, you skipped past the whole college scene. Far too expensive and not something you seemed interested in, anyway. Despite your father's protests, you decided to spend time traveling rather than staying with him. You had gotten used to your independence and was somehow nearing thirty way too quickly. You considered yourself content in life. You were a darn good hunter, a woman that could hold her alcohol, and a successful freelance photographer. You weren't sure where your dad's income came from and you decided it best not to ask, sticking to making an honest living while hunting as often as possible.

It was late summer and Bobby's birthday was coming up soon. Although he hated celebrating, you made sure to be around during this time. It just so happened to coincide with a case you were tracking. You figured you would surprise him tomorrow evening and make his favorite dinner. For now, though, you rented a small apartment half an hour away. You felt motels were dirty and a bit pathetic. You did have some class, after all.

Tonight you were looking for a good time, clothed in one of your favorite dresses, with matching heels and handbag. You headed to the bar, pulled up a chair, and ordered your favorite margarita. Soon enough, a man's build and shadow blocked your view of the door. He cleared his throat and you turned your head, taking in the view of messy brown hair and mischievous green eyes attached to a face full of sun-kissed freckles. The man wore nothing special, just regular jeans and a plaid shirt layered with a hunter-green jacket. It was a look that fits well in Iowa, but his voice showed quickly he was not raised here.

"Not a beer girl, huh?" He asked, raising an eyebrow towards your bright colored drink. You did a quick assessment and deemed this man as not a threat. He could be just what you were looking for. As you began to speak, you watched his attentive gaze dip from your eyes to your lips then back again.

"Not quite my style. I like something a little sweeter," you said with a small smile. Leaning back in your chair, you aimlessly twirled the straw around in your drink as you looked back up to the handsome stranger.

He draped an arm around your chair, his fingers lightly brushing your shoulders in the process. "Then feel free to call me sugar, sweetheart," he said. His eyes crinkled with the flirty grin. You wanted to laugh at what a bad line it was but figured his looks could make up for a lacking game. You bit back your smile by licking your lips and tacking a long sip of your drink.

"Well, I don't know about that, but you can call me Y/N," you offered.

The conversation quickly led into basic first date questions, leading you and the man who later introduced himself as Dean to realize you had quite a few similarities, such as bands, landmarks, and even pies. Neither of you was able to persuade the other to change interest in alcohol. Once you got to the topic of cars, you had lost track of time. Dean claimed to have an older Impala and was eager to show you. You were used to the ploys of cool cars to get a woman outside, but you weren't objecting to where the night was headed. You were left intrigued and somewhat shocked that someone this good looking was actually telling the truth about having such a well kept and beautiful vehicle. You were hoping to get the chance to impress him with your own knowledge about cars at some point if things actually made it past three am leavings, which was typically not likely.

When Dean proposed the invitation, he noticed your response was less than immediate. You didn't mean to hesitate but was trying to work out to tell him how you did not feel comfortable leaving your own car in the bar parking lot. His shoulders sagged ever so slightly. It typically wouldn't have been that noticeable except behavior change was something you studied in school when taught how to create poses for your photos. His green eyes were bright and eager, reflecting from the yellow lights outside of the bar.

"I, uh, if you're not interested... we don't have to..." Dean began stuttering, changing pace. He must not be used to rejection, you decided. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

You took one of Dean's hands, finding the new change endearing. Although it could've been funny to turn down someone that seemed like a player and innate flirter, that was not your plan for tonight. "Dean, I'm fine. I just don't like to leave my car, so if you want to follow, or go with me, back to my place?" You offered. You tilted your head, waiting for an answer.

He nodded. His grin had returned widely and he used his other hand to indicate for me to lead the way. And off Dean and you went. The two of you stumbled into your apartment in half the time it should have taken you to get back. Dean's chatter filled your ears up until you unlocked the door to your room.

Your keys were tossed onto the television stand while shoes were being kicked off against the closet door. Heat filled the room as your bodies filled the bed, disregarding your clothes and newness to one another. You felt much more connected as Dean kissed you, a sense of familiarity in his warmth and scent. It began with an intense and heavy makeout before his lips left yours, and began to trail down your neck, continuing further as time ticked away. The clock on the wall was the only sound you could hear besides your ragged breathing and the squeaks of the bed. The sheets were too weak for your grip, so you moved your nails into his back. You could feel his smiles trace your skin. You couldn't help but shudder when Dean whispered into your ear. It was a beautifully messy sight, watching Dean and you move as one, clinging to one another. Your eyelids fluttered, unsure of where to focus as the sensations grew stronger. Arching your head back to allow more room elsewhere, you thought you had lost your voice before one simple movement reminded you how to speak, urging you to call out Dean's name.

The night carried on for much longer.

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arnorcttos · 5 years

Text

( ludovico tersigni + 22 + muse 59 ) isn’t that apollo amoretto over there? i heard HE joined faction: nomads after they got back to west ham. it’s funny, ‘cause they were only on the service trip to terrorize his peers. hopefully they fit in there – they’re ADROIT, but also INDELICATE. oh, i’m sure they’ll be fine. ( james, she/they, 20, EST )

okay hi i’m james and this is my baby apollo, who is actually a brand new spankin’ muse of mine so !! we’ll see how this goes b/c i’ve literally never rp’d him before !! and i’ll b frank. his background is inspired by logan in veronica mars. sue me. actually don’t i’m already in college debt but sudfjkfg PLEATHE plot w/ him. leave a like. two likes. that’s not even possible. i may change his fc in the future b/c like ... i’m currently making his gif icons as i go and to b frank ,,, it’s rly hard sdjfkgh but i love him. so we’ll see. sdjnfkmgh

TRIGGER WARNING - DEATH, MURDER, MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES, DOMESTIC VIOLENCE

a e s t h e t i c s

fingers across keyboards and piano keys, m&m’s scattered, vintage gaming consoles and tangled wires, worn vans and broken skateboards, banging of drums and splintering drumsticks, deep rhythms beating with your heart, the hum of a hefty computer and the buzz of a monitor, green text against black screens, unruly hair unkempt, flannels filling closets, bloody baseball bats, posters lining up and down walls, loud punk music shaking the walls, glares and whispers, the suffocation that comes with loneliness, pills rattling in their bottles, unmade beds.

general info !!

full name: apollo casimir amoretto

nickname(s): caz, polly, lover boy, 2000 (b/c of his screen names lmaoo)

b.o.d. - january 31st, aquarius boi

label(s): the escapist, the hellion, the insurgent, the netizen, etc. etc.

height: hitting 6′0″

hometown: west ham, kansas !

sexuality: bi...? fucking. it’s pride month ofc he’s bi.

his stats are TBD but his pinterest is HERE !

biography !!

cristian amoretto and camilla silvestri had a romance that could be described turbulent at best, and down right explosive at worst

cristian, a native italian actor whose career began before he could walk, and camilla, the daughter of two italian immigrants with big dreams in a small town, met on the set of a coffee shop. their love story began quickly, dating within only a few months of knowing each other and engaged before the year was up

camilla walked down the aisle 6 months pregnant with lil’ baby apollo, who was then born in west ham, kansas, aka the town that camilla’s family had settled in

was raised primarily by his mother and grandparents! his father was often off shooting movies, leaving camilla to take on the role of stay-at-home mom despite her own dreams of making it big as an actress

apollo grew up as a huge momma’s boy -- i mean, god, he just really loved this mother, y’know? his relationship with his father was much rockier because of his ... lack of being around.

when his grandparents died around the age of eight, that’s when things got...worse. it felt as if camilla’s parents were the only barrier between camilla and cristian’s budding wrath.

it became more apparent that cristian was not meant for the family life, his anger quick and his fists quicker, stinging words and venomous glares. a control freak who couldn’t handle camilla being an independent woman.

this wasn’t apparent to the neighbors, or much of the town in general, because the amorettos were such a prominent family up in their mini-mansion in oak ridge -- it was hard to imagine that their life was anything but exquisite and dreamlike.

this was, of course, up until camilla filed for divorce and a restraining order in the same day, face bruised and nearly unrecognizable. she, obviously, got custody of apollo.

at this point in time, apollo was fourteen and...pretty stoked for them to get away from his father. they holed up in southside and life continued as normal. for the time being. gossip swarmed apollo at school surrounding the circumstance which was annoying, to say the least. it led to him becoming withdrawn from the other students, not getting the whole ... gossip appeal.

in hindsight, they should’ve moved out of west ham. death threats in the form of letters and the eerie feeling of eyes constantly being on them came to a halt on apollo’s graduation day: the day that his father also, coincidentally, murdered his mother.

for making me miss out on years of my son’s life, was cristian’s excuse as he was escorted from the bloody crime scene at their apartment and into the police car.

obviously, cristian was convicted and sentenced to prison. apollo still has dreams about testifying in court against his father.

and then apollo became known not as the son of two celebrities, but the son of a murderer. total bummer !

became even more withdrawn and almost dropped out of college a few good times! the only thing that kept him rooted to west ham was his band.

and now he can’t leave, and he’s surrounded by people who all look at him weird and he feels like they’re all expecting him to be like his father, and he’s not, but god -- when people expect you to be one way, it’s so hard to act otherwise. it’s just not a good time !

pretty much why he went on the service trip tbh ... like, y’know ... if ppl want to believe that he’s just as bad as his dad then damn ! he was gonna wreck sm havoc on the trip, just being an absolute nuisance.

personality !!

his main focuses are computers / video games, drums / his band, and like ... skating ... vaping ... gamer things, y’know.

from a young age he’d always been very fascinated by video games, and being the Rich Boi (tm) that he was, ended up with a whole lot of them to play, on a whole bunch of consoles.

but like ... he’s a PC guy :/ he may have a super rare nintendo 64 console or two but nothing can beat his dual-monitor set up with his hand-build computer !

he also got real into hacking, y’know, just small things like watching security cameras in different cities and occasionally changing his grades b/c like ... who wouldn’t ? also ... cheated in dark souls. fucking loser.

his favorite games to play were always multiplayer games online like WoW and overwatch so !! he’s pretty fucking mad he can’t play them anymore. like. so mad. genuinely furious. he’s been trying to hack his way into like ... wifi or something dumb, ever since they got stranded in new west ham, but he’s had no luck !

he joined a band in high school because he was angsty and young, and like, turned out to be really good on drums ?? they had like ... some real big jimmy eat world / green day / say anything / old school fall out boy vibes. just a whole bunch of ‘fuck the government, fuck the authority, anarchy, rebellion, revolt revolt revolt’ angry rock music that got a buuunch of noise complaints during practice.

his role in the band was essentially the ~nerdy~ one, because he was a gamer, but like he was also Edgy and Angry and wore all black like Constantly (he still does who are we kidding)

probably paints his nails black and has a nose ring b/c gamers can be edgy too !!

huuuuuge junk food junkie. like ... he will consume Everything and Anything unhealthy. has a huge sweet tooth, he can’t remember the last time he’s drank straight up water.

but like ... he’s a loner pretty much. only friends he really bothered keeping were his bandmates and like ! half of them went missing along with the rest of the town so ! he’s feeling a lil’ lost

but not lost enough to do Nothing, y’know ?? coming back to west ham to an empty town awoke his little baby survivalist in him, probably due to a lot of survival games he played online, and he immediately took over his old home in oak ridge ! it was pretty much rotting there with his dad in jail, but not anymore !!

has also probably broken into a few homes already tbh b/c he’s just. ruthless. impulsive. if it feels like the end of the world then he’s yolo’ing, he’s peace-ing out, u cannot stop him.

uuhhh so he’s got this fucking...pomsky, right? her name is tulip. she was camilla’s before she passed away and like, what is apollo gonna do, huh ? put the dog in a shelter ? hell fucking nah. that’s his dog now.

unfortunately tulip isn’t the most .... tough looking dog. apollo set up a bunch of fucking speakers around the property of his dad’s house and plays large barking noises whenever somebody gets too close, just to ward off intruders, but like ... there’s no fucking big dogs man. it’s just apollo and tulip.

this isn’t like a Personality Trait but idk where to put it so ! apollo’s on antidepressants b/c like ... y’know ... the whole dad-murdering-mom thing sort of fucked him up a lot ! they make him feel pretty blah and diminished his sex drive so like ... hook ups aren’t really an option for him atm !

besides that he smokes a lot of weed b/c self medication

he’s ... sort of an asshole. like ... he can be rude and he doesn’t have much of a filter and i don’t know if there’s any softness left to him ! he just really misses his mom and his bandmates and has a lot of wishes involving changing the past and he reacts badly to things because he’s so defensive and on edge constantly.

he misses twitter the most, tho.

no but he’s just like. .. sad gamer boi ... a man and his dog ... who also carries like five knives on him and definitely knows where his dad kept his gun.

like he’s not socially awkward or necessarily Bad with people .. he’s just bad with people :/ doesn’t try hard enough ! is a little too apathetic ! chaotic to true neutral

wanted connections !!

i envision his band to have like ... four or five members including him. two guitar electric guitar, one bass, one drums / keyboard, any of them singing idk that’s not important. and since two of them have Disappeared, i’d like the One (or two) that Remains ! anarchy boys !

generally .. anybody else who is tryn to survive, that maybe he can bond with or completely clash with ??

i’d love enemies, just ppl he Refuses to get along with or they are just on bad terms for whatever reason

people he’s trying to not ! not get along with ! but it just doesn’t work out b/c like ... lbr, apollo’s pretty bad with other people.

just any falling outs.

uuhh ... maybe a few somewhat-friendships ! like... awkward acquaintances

ppl he knew primarily from high school / haven’t spoken to since

maybe one or two ppl who’s soft towards him or he’s soft towards or vice versa b/c like ! i’ll b real .. it’s pretty nice to have !

ex-flings, ex-somethings, ex-gfs, bfs, anything from the past.

hookup gone bad b/c he couldn’t get it up b/c antidepressants be like that (this is based off of a true story can we get a sad yeehaw in here)

gaming pals from before no wifi.

skater buds. vaping buds. b/c i can confirm that apollo owns like three juuls. stoner buds.

someone he’s like ... hesitantly forming an alliance with b/c sometimes it’s easier when you have someone on ur team ! b/c then drama when one of them betrays the other uwu

somebody trying 2 break into his house b/c u Know it’s got some good shit in there but he’s just like ‘alexa play dogs barking audio’ and then ur muse is like ... there’s no fucking dogs

juul pod dealer. that’s all.

i’m down for anything rly !! pleathe hmu !!

#apogeeintro #god i'm sorry this took so long #death tw #mental illness tw #it's implied but yknow #murder tw #domestic violence tw

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coffee-obsessed-writer · 5 years

Text

Just a Little Patience

Dean Winchester x Reader

A/N: This was written for @cole-winchester ‘s Writing Prompt challenge (congrats again babe!!). My prompt was: “Falling in love with you wasn’t a part of my life plan, but I don’t regret that I did.” I also used the song, Patience by Guns ‘n Roses as inspiration and some lyrics are used within the fic.

Summary: Dean showed up at the bar Y/N worked in one night with his brother, and from there, she and Dean became quick friends who had a growing attraction. However, her life was complicated by a wedding ring and absent husband. When he finally returns, Y/N begs Dean to leave and never come back. But what happens when fate seems to intervene and gives them both signs that they made the wrong choice?

Warnings: Married!Reader, slight hints of verbal abuse, language, some angst

Words: 6.7K

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*Gifs not mine, credit to owners.

The whiskey burned as it tore down his throat that was already raw from the screaming match, he had with Sam earlier. But Dean didn’t care. He slammed the glass to the bar and motioned for another. The bartender gave him an uncertain look, but Dean’s expression demanded more.

“Just leave the damn bottle,” he growled and didn’t give the man a second glance as he made a hasty exit to the other end of the bar.

Dean poured his own shot from the bottle and tossed it back, filling the glass again before he could even finish swallowing the last one. Getting shit faced drunk was high on his priority list, and he couldn’t care less what the bartender, or other patrons, or even his little brother thought about it. For once, this bout of drunkenness wasn’t caused by a hunt, the fight with Sam or even the death of someone close to him. This time, it was all because of a woman.

She had been the frequent cause for so many of his internal debates of right versus wrong in the last few months. Y/N wasn’t anything he expected yet turned out to be exactly what he had been looking for without even realizing it. He’d gone for so many years happily meeting women and spending a night, two tops, with them. Then, Y/N came along and threw all that on its head.

For a girl he never even kissed, Dean felt like she ruined him for anyone else. He hated her for it at first, because when it was time to walk away, he couldn’t until she screamed at him that he had too. She was messy, had far too much baggage and “not their kind of problem” problems. She was nothing Dean needed to get involved with. Yet, there he was; neck deep and hopelessly addicted to someone he had seen, spoken too or touched, in months.

Three shots later, and Dean was starting to feel no pain and he slipped off the stool and started singing along badly with The Allman Brothers that were playing on the jukebox. He left the bottle behind and stumbled around the nearly empty honkytonk, scanning the faces of those still there, and realized it wasn’t at all where he wanted to be.

Not this bar, not in this part of town. This was her bar. How did he allow himself to end up there? Dean ran a hand over his mouth and down the stubble on his chin. His eyes were tired, and he wanted another shot. He squeezed them shut for a moment, and her face immediately floated into his mind’s eye.

That image combined with the whiskey brought a lump into his throat as he leaned against one of the support beams. Dean pushed off, headed back towards the bar and blindly groped for a stool. He tried to shove it all back down, but that never really worked, not where she was concerned.

As the last notes of Ramblin’ Man died away, the jukebox played a cruel joke on the world’s most dangerous hunter, as the soft, melodic notes of Patience by Guns ‘n Roses started to play. He listened as best he could, feeling each line of the song and realizing that it was a sign. In his drunken state, he considered for a moment that he had played it and forgot. It was their song, after all.

He thought back to the night after the concert, he found her at the bar and wanted to talk about what had happened. She avoided him for most of the night until he finally cornered her. But before he could even begin, she started to cry. Her face that night was a mess, mascara-streaked tears had painted her cheeks, while her wet eyes implored for him to… Go? Stay? He didn’t remember right then, but they were silently pleading with him to somehow save her. He turned and left, but it crushed him to do so.

Now, here he found himself in her bar, a place he swore he’d never end up in again. Especially not after she told him to leave. He was drinking again, heavily. Not because he needed too, but because he missed her so damn much, and hadn’t seen her in more than six months. He just wanted one night where he didn’t feel anything at all.

So why did his highway hypnosis bring him there when he set out in the opposite direction? How did he end up a bottle of Jack deep before he even realized it? Sure, some time had passed, but not so much that she could be erased from his memory. Nothing could do that, and he tried. He had promised himself, and Sam, that Y/N was in his past, he wouldn’t go back and stir it up all again. That was what he fought with Sam about, and now he was here. Dean ignored the little voice that told him he needed to let go and took another shot.

Now that song was playing, the one that told him he was right where he should be, despite not really setting out to be there. Or did he?

The room was hot, and you felt a sticky layer of sweat coat your skin the minute you fell onto the stripped-down bed. Beside you, your husband snored relentlessly in the nearly pitch-black room. There would be zero chance you’d sleep, especially with him going on the way he was. Though, you were still glad he’d finally fallen asleep. He’d been worse than usual, not so much with the drinking, but with his overall behavior and hostility. So, when he finally closed his eyes for the night, relief washed over you.

When work, or the lack thereof, got worse for him, you would suffer for it. Martin had never laid a hand on you, but there were a few times that he had approached you in a manner that made you flinch and feel a ripple of unease settle into your gut. That day had been bad, as had most of the days that came before it. It had gotten so bad, however, that you had to get someone to come in and cover your shift at the bar. That meant no tips, which meant less money, which just caused another argument.

You rolled onto your side and tried to get comfortable as the mass of flesh and bone beside you took in another loud inhale of air up through his nostrils. This time it made him cough, which shook the entire bed frame. A flash of anger made you sit up and swing your legs to the floor. You bit the inside of your lip, forcing yourself to use all your willpower just to fight the urge not scream at him to shut up. The anger quickly wanted to turn into tears because it just brought up everything again; all the issues you’d been having with him ever since…

You breathed through the emotion, trying to find a calm place so you could think without breaking down. Mostly, you were afraid to wake Martin. Carefully, you got back out of bed and quietly rifled through your dresser until you found a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Being as dark as it was, you didn’t realize what you had put on until you were sitting in the car and seeing its reflecting in the rearview mirror.

When you caught sight of the shirt itself, the big GnR logo across your chest, this feeling of nostalgia clamped down on your heart. For the first time in months, you allowed yourself to speak his name out loud.

“Dean…”

You allowed yourself a moment or two, just to linger in everything that name stirred inside you. But, only a moment.

Still afraid Martin would wake and find you in the driveway, you turned the ignition and pulled out, not hitting your headlights on until you were far down the road from home. The further you drove from home, the freer you started to feel. Almost as free as you had felt with Dean. He was firmly on your mind now, and you didn’t care. You had spent the better part of the last six months doing everything within your power to forget him and even pretend he never existed.

When you met him, Martin had been gone working for weeks at a time. You took extra shifts at the bar, and even the nights where you weren’t working, you were there. Dean and his brother had come in one night and dominated the pool table for most of the evening which annoyed you to no end because you had to listen to the regulars complain. The next night, they came back, and you just happened to be off shift. When they went for the table, you stopped them and challenged them to a game. Winner takes the table, loser must buy the next round. Dean won, and you gladly bought him a round of drinks, then another, then another.

It didn’t take more than ten minutes for you to become hopelessly charmed by the stranger with the green eyes wearing the blue Henley. For the next couple nights, Sam and Dean Winchester showed up religiously at around nine. They would drink, shoot pool and close the bar with Dean in the corner seat just chatting you up about movies, tv shows, and music.

He never tried to make a move on you once he noticed the wedding ring on your finger, but it also never stopped him from making you laugh and being sweet as hell every night he came in. It didn’t help that Dean was mysterious, and endlessly interesting. He had a way of teasing you that both made you blush and infuriated you. He wasn’t threatening, but you could see how he could be intimidating, or even scary, if provoked. Everything about him was just what you needed… he was everything Martin wasn’t.

At the end of each night, they would leave, and you would go home to an empty house and stare at the ring on your finger. You knew Martin was gone for a purpose, the work was hard to find, and he had to take it where he could. It wasn’t the distance or the loneliness that bothered you, it was him. You’d been falling out of love for a while, and meeting Dean was the realization of that. Still, you didn’t know Dean completely, and you were a married woman, so you tried to put as much distance between you as possible. Somehow, Dean always found his way through it and straight back to you.

You allowed yourself to continue down memory lane as you navigated your car down the blackened roads that lead to nowhere in particular. There was no destination in mind, just the need to drive and listen to loud music. Flipping on the radio, you hit ‘scan’ so the tuner would find something that actually came in clear. The mountains didn’t always allow for the best signal, but the tinny sound of Zeppelin’s Whole Lotta Love seeped through the intermittent static.

Your fingers tapped along on top of the steering wheel, as more winding roads brought you down into the valley. When you approached the next stop sign, you realized you had no idea where you were. There was no one behind you, and you didn’t know how to decide which way to go. On the radio, Zep faded away and a soft whistle faded in. You swallowed thickly and recognized the song immediately. Your right hand touched against the logo on your shirt before your fingers curled around the material and clenched at it desperately.

A pair of headlights eventually pulled to a stop behind you and beeped the horn, giving you a nudge to decide which direction to go. Without thinking, you turned right and fell back into your memories.

It was another night at the bar. You were working and chatting with Dean, when the small radio playing next to you let the listeners know they had a chance to win tickets to see Guns ‘n Roses final tour, live. Dean’s face lit up and he whipped out his cell phone. He grabbed the number and dialed frantically as his tongue darted out nervously over his bottom lip; making him look like a giddy child.

“I got this… I so got this—“ he mumbled and suddenly inhaled sharply when the phone stopped ringing and he heard the voice on the line.

You watched him as he got more and more excited upon realizing he had been the winner of the tickets. The pure joy that was etched across his face was infectious. When he hung up, with the confirmation he could pick up the tickets at Will Call, he came around the back of the bar, and swept you up into a big bear hug, lifting your feet off the ground and swinging you back and forth.

He must have felt like he crossed the line because he put you down quickly and bashfully went back to his stool. Neither of you spoke about it, but for the moment his arms had been around you, you felt intoxicated by his proximity. When he put you down and moved away, you had a sudden urge to pull him back and make him hug you again.

“Sam’s gonna hate this,” he chuckled nervously, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “He will not enjoy this at all.”

“Not his cup of tea?”

Dean snorted a laugh and wiped at the drop of beer left on his lip. “Not even a little.”

You started drying glasses, so you would have something to do other than be affected by his touch. “Well he’s just gonna have to suck it up, isn’t he? No way you can waste that other ticket.”

“Oh, no worry there darlin’,” Dean winked and sipped at his beer. “Because I think you should go with me instead. Wouldn’t kill me to have a night away from that gasbag over there.” He motioned over his shoulder towards Sam, who was playing pool and chatting up one the female customers.

You shrugged and tried to play off your simultaneous emotions of excitement and disappointment. “I can’t go with you, I have to work.”

Dean wrinkled his face and rolled his eyes. “Bullshit. Here, watch this… Hey, uh, Mario, right?” he called to the other bartender and waved him over.

“Dean, what are you doing?” you asked nervously. “Leave Mario alone.”

He ignored you. “Hey, Mario… you working tomorrow?”

Mario shrugged and shook his head. “No, why?”

“You wanna work so this one can go with me to a concert?”

He considered it for a moment and shrugged again. “Why not, could definitely use the cash. I’ll work your shift Y/N.”

Dean’s expression shrugged right along with his “I told you so” shoulders and hand gesture.

“Dean, I can’t—”

“Because of that,” he asked quietly and looked down at your ring.

“Well, yeah.”

“We’re friends going to a concert. Totally platonic, promise.”

He picked you up the next day at six, and the moment you slid into the front seat of his ’67 Impala, you thought you may just be a little in love with him already. Dean drove fast and played his music loud. The rush of adrenaline and excitement that coursed through you felt intoxicating. HE was intoxicating. Dean directed you to the cooler in the back seat, and when you opened it up you couldn’t help but smile. Inside was two six packs of beer and to subs wrapped up from your favorite sandwich shop.

When you arrived at the venue, the parking lot was full of tailgaters --people drinking heavily and pockets of different Guns ‘n Roses songs blared from every direction. The weather looked threatening, so you and Dean sat in the front seat of the Impala, shared the beer and food, and talked until it was showtime.

It was raining by the time you made it to Will Call, and at a near downpour by the time the band took the stage. Neither of you cared. For the next few hours, you drank, sang and danced in the rain. It finally stopped and gave way to a starry filled sky just in time for Axel Rose to transition into the familiar whistle of Patience.

As he sang it, Dean’s hand found his way into yours. When you looked up at him, his eyes were still straight ahead, watching the concert and mouthing the words along with the song. He must have felt you staring at him because when he turned to you, was when you were struck by the realization you had growing feelings for him. STRONG feelings

All the people around you seemed to fade, and it was just you and Dean left standing on that lawn. The song was playing solely for the two of you, but even that felt far away. Your heart was pounding out of your chest, as his hand gripped yours tighter. There was so much electricity in that moment, so much heat between you, it was as if there were invisible forces pushing you towards each other, despite knowing it was wrong.

Dean wanted to say or do something, it was written all over his face. You wanted him to say it, too, but you knew it would lead to something that could only end badly.

“Don’t,” you whispered, which he somehow heard over the crowd and music. “Please, Dean…” You looked away from him, casting your eyes to the ground.

His finger lifted your chin, forcing you to look at him again. He still held your hand, refusing to let it go. As the lyrics came through the speakers, he smiled and used his grip on you to pull you into his arms as he sang along, just loud enough for you to hear him.

“I sit here on the stairs 'Cause I'd rather be alone If I can't have you right now, I'll wait dear, hmmm mmmm….

He hummed along for a few more bars before picking up the words again.

Said woman take it slow and things will be just fine You and I'll just use a little patience Said sugar take the time 'cause the lights are shining bright You and I've got what it takes to make it…”

You stayed that way through the rest of the song, only releasing each other to applaud along with the rest of the crowd at the end. The show was over shortly after that, as you moved along with the herd of concert goers, Dean jumped out of line to buy one of the last shirts that was left. “Here, you’re soaked through. This way you won’t freeze,” he winked, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, guiding you through the mass exodus towards the parking lot.

The Impala rolled up to the front door of your house and that’s when you knew it was all over. Martin’s truck was parked in the driveway, and Dean seemed to realize exactly what that had meant, too. There were no lights on inside, which meant he was most likely sleeping, but a bolt of fear still ran through your heart.

“I—I better go, the old man is home,” you said, trying to sound cheerful, but neither of you believed it.

Dean was quiet, staring straight ahead and clearly trying not to say more than was necessary. Eventually, he looked your way and forced a smile on his face.

“Yeah, I see that.”

“Thanks for the concert, and the shirt,” you said and reached for the door handle. Before you could, he reached out and grabbed your wrist gently to stop you.

“Y/N…”

You froze and when you turned back to him, there was a dreamy, wistful light in his eyes which made your entire body weak for him.

“I, uh, I don’t want you to—”

“I don’t want to go either,” you said quietly, cutting him off but unable to look him in the eye. His fingers interlaced with yours, and that invisible force was there again, just pushing you closer.

If not for the light that flipped on inside, you would have kissed him them. But then the front door opened. You forced his hand from yours and jumped out of the car before you lost your nerve to and without saying goodbye.

You didn’t realize you had pulled over to the side of the road, until a car buzzed by you far too quickly, rocking yours from the force with which it passed. The song was still playing but nearing its end and you suddenly wished you could start it over and relive that night of the concert. When that light came on, you should have kissed him, then told him to keep driving and never stop.

Somehow, in the span of a week and very little physical contact, you’d fallen head over heels for a man you barely knew who had stellar taste in everything and whose intense gaze made you feel like the only woman on Earth.

When the guitar finally faded out, and a slew of commercials took its place, you put the car back in drive and merged back onto the road. Doing your best to leave memories of Dean Winchester behind.

The pain that tore through Dean’s head was nearly as painful as the memories that ripped his heart to pieces the night before. He sat up on the motel bed and wondered how he ended up there. The last thing he recalled was sitting at the bar with a nearly empty bottle of Jack and that song on the jukebox.

That fucking song.

A knock at the door confused him further, as he scanned the room for any signs of Sam but saw none. He stumbled towards the door and tried to read the name of the motel off the fire exit map, but age had worn most of the letters away. The door wasn’t chained, so he attached it, then opened it just open to peer one untrustworthy eye at whomever had come knocking.

The man looked familiar, but in his current state, it escaped Dean on where he knew him.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice rough with whiskey and sleep.

“Dean… it’s me, Mario. Came to check up on ya buddy. You hit the bottle hard last night my friend.” He raised up the white, grease-stained bag of food and smiled. “Can I come in? I brought breakfast.”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and recalled a very blurry memory of Mario helping him off the barstool. He closed the door, unchained it and let Mario in, snatching the bag of food the moment the man walked through the door and spying inside it.

“Hope you don’t mind that I stopped by. I was going in to open the bar and wanted to see if you were alright.”

“You’re the one who got me in here last night?”

“Yeah. You had passed out on the bar top, man. Mumbling Y/N’s name and slurring the words of some song. I felt bad for ya, couldn’t get your brother to answer his phone to come get you, so I got you a room and here you are.”

Dean paused as he unwrapped the sausage sandwich and hash browns, “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

“Of course, Y/N would kill me if I didn’t. I offered to call her for you, but you were adamant that I didn’t. What happened? You guys were friends, right? I mean she used to talk about you all the time.”

“She did?” he asked before devouring the food, trying not to sound overly excited.

“Yeah, she, uh—” he stopped when his phone rang from his pocket. He pulled it out just enough to see the number and jumped up from the chair he’d just sat on. “Oh damn, I really gotta go. My boss is waiting for me at the bar. Glad you’re alright man, enjoy the grub. Your car is parked around back, by the way. I left the keys on the nightstand.”

“You drove my car?!” Dean asked with a bit of angry induced panic.

“Had to get you here somehow. Got my sister to follow me over and bring me home. Sorry, I gotta run, it was good to see you though,” Mario smiled but was happy to leave quickly when he realized Dean was upset about the car.

Dean finished the food and went to check on his baby and grab his duffle bag, before going back to the room and taking the longest, hottest shower of his life.

Two hours later, Dean had left the motel behind him, firmly pointed in the direction of home. Sam was off helping Eileen with a case in Idaho and pissed at him anyway. There was no other cases on his radar, so he figured home would be his best option.

As he put more miles between him and the small mountain town Y/N lived in, without looking, he rifled through the box of cassette tapes at his side. Not caring what he found, he shoved the first one he grabbed into the tape deck and slammed on the breaks when he recognized the opening licks to Reckless Life off the G N’R Lies, album. The song piped through the Impala’s speakers, making his jaw clench in frustration. He knew what he had to do, and if he fought it any longer, he would finally go insane.

“Sonofabitch!” he yelled and slammed his fist down on the steering wheel. “Fuck this,” he growled and sharply turned the wheel, spinning Baby around and pushing the gas pedal straight down to the floor.

The sun was nearing noon and the heat of the day was stifling as he guided the car up to her house. He fully expected to find her car in the driveway but wasn’t sure if it would be alone or not. To his surprise, her vehicle was gone, but Martin’s was there.

Dean realized that he didn’t care, he needed to see her. He needed to know if the months of pining for this woman had been worth it… was she worth it? He wanted to touch her; kiss her at least once. If it earned him a punch in the face from her husband, so be it. Dean knew he wasn’t normally the kind of man that would purposely break up a marriage, but he also knew he’d hate himself if he didn’t at least try.

He didn’t know what he was doing, exactly. Dean moved on instincts alone when he got out of the car and slowly approached the front door. He figured they got him this far in life, why not just follow them now. He didn’t know what he was going to say to her husband. Hell, he didn’t even know if they were still together. The only thing he did know was that her image wasn’t going away, and he needed to see her.

Every step he took, a different reason or thought barreled through his mind as to why he shouldn’t be doing this.

She doesn’t know about your life… what if when you tell her she freaks and runs… and this is all for nothing?

What if she’s happy with him now?

What if you misread the whole situation, you jackass?

What if, what if, what if…

Dean was so lost in thought, he didn’t hear her car pull up into the driveway or the door closing behind him.

You pulled into the driveway, and your stomach bottomed out at the sight of the Impala on the curb. At first you thought it was a dream, or the ghosts of things past coming back to haunt you. But seeing Dean slowly approaching your front door, caused you to realize it was real, and freeze completely. A swirling eddy of thoughts and emotions rushed through you so fast, you could barely understand any of them… scared for what was about to happen, delighted to see him, terrified of Martin’s reaction, curious, enamored, excited, petrified… Finally, once you were able to move, you got out of the car and started to approach him.

“Dean?”

He stopped at the sound of your voice, and when he turned around, it was as if no time had passed at all. A smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth and you noticed his hands nervously clenching and releasing.

“Hey.” His voice was deeper and raspier, his face looked drawn and tired, but there was the same wanting need burning in his eyes, getting more intense the longer he held your gaze.

“Hey,” you replied in more of a squeak, than an actual response. “What, uh, what’s up? Why are you here?”

“Well, oddly enough I ended up the bar last night. Had one too many and, uh…” he paused and chuckled sheepishly, “guess I tied one on. Mario got me to a room to pass out in.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, killer hangover, but,” he smiled and shrugged, “you know how it goes.”

You nodded but didn’t know what to say. You were fighting the urge to get any closer, to spark the conversation as to why he was really there. You thought maybe if you could keep it to friendly banter, you’d be able to watch him leave without it sparking any trouble with Martin. It may have worked, if he hadn’t noticed the shirt you were wearing.

Dean swallowed thickly and tentatively took the last dozen steps to close the gap between you. “You still have it.”

“Of course. I couldn’t ever part with it,” you smiled softly and pulled at the hem. “It was a great concert.”

“I was on my way home, Y/N,” he said, his voice shaky and nervous as he suddenly changing the subject. “I was headed home, running home actually, away from this damn town and that fucking bar. I was leaving without seeing you or causing you any trouble. Hell, I didn’t even mean to show up here. I was in the area for work, and somehow…”

You couldn’t help but chuckle and recite that infamous line from Casablanca. “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world… he walks into mine,” you mumbled, but he heard you and nodded.

“Yeah, exactly. What sort of threw me, even more, was when that song came on the jukebox. Then when I was driving home, I pull out any old random cassette just to kill the silence and it’s ones of theirs,” he said and motioned to your shirt.

You tried to stifle the emotion that was building, as you recalled your own night before and hearing the song, seemingly random on the radio. But there was nothing random about that at all.

“Dean… I—”

“Just, let me finish, okay? My life is messy, and sort of going in one specific direction. There’s a plan, here, and it doesn’t include a whole lot of people that stick around. Its full of crazy coincidences, and lots of… scary things. I have no right to be here, to be talking to you in front of the house you share with your husband, but yet, here I am. Because I’m selfish, and I couldn’t leave without telling you—”

“Telling me what, Dean?”

“That, I’m pretty sure I’m love with you. The simple fact that I don’t know what you thought that was back then, friendship or something more, or that I’ve haven’t kissed you yet… it makes no sense. I just know that the time I spent with you at that bar, and at the concert… it won’t go away. YOU won’t go away.”

His declaration was shocking at first, but then, it wasn’t. Not really and mostly because, that’s exactly how you felt. There was no rhyme or reason for it. You spent a week of nights just talking to this stranger, getting wrapped up in his wit and charm. That moment you had at the concert cemented it, you felt something for him that you shouldn’t. Because you “belonged” to someone else, you didn’t allow yourself any more time to ponder what could have been with Dean. But now…

“Look, Y/N, I know there’s a lot—”

The front door crashed open cutting off his thought, and Martin stalked outside in nothing but a pair of jeans looking like a man crazed.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he roared at you, completely ignoring Dean standing there. He barreled towards you, a thin layer of sweat immediately forming on his head as the hot afternoon sun blazed down on everyone, heightening the atmosphere already heavy with excitement.

Dean seemed stuck in place, watching Martin come at you like a bull towards a Matador. It was when Martin’s hand grabbed your upper arm, that he sprang into action. Martin’s grip on your arm sent a bolt of pain down to your hand as you tried to wiggle free of his grasp, causing you to yelp with pain.

“Man, you better let her go,” Dean warned, finally earning a bit of attention from your husband.

“Who the fuck are you?!” Martin yelled, let go of you and tried to cock his arm back to punch Dean. Before he could even swing his arm forward, Dean popped the much larger man in his jaw, causing him to stumble back away from you. Dean stepped in front of you, protecting you from being grabbed again and clenched his fist in anticipation to swing a second time.

“I’m the guy she’s leaving with, that’s who,” Dean growled.

You grabbed a handful of his shirt and buried your face into his back. His shirt was sweaty, and he still smelled faintly of whiskey, but you didn’t care. At that moment all you wanted to do was go with him and never look back. But you couldn’t without standing up to Martin first.

Dean tried to stop you, but you ignored his attempt. “Martin, I’m sorry. I… I can’t do this anymore.” You looked at Dean briefly and was encouraged to continue just from the look of relief on his face. “I don’t love you anymore.”

“But you love him?! This is the same guy, isn’t it? The one you cheated with when I was gone!” Martin was making his way back towards Dean, ready for a second chance to fight.

“Yes and no. I never cheated on you, but yes, I met him at the bar and he became my friend. I never slept with him, never even kissed him. But I fell in love with him anyway. I’m sorry, Martin…”

He stopped coming towards you and Dean and laughed. “You know what, take her. She’s been nothing but a pain in the ass since I met her. I should never have come back to this shit town. Do you know what I left behind for you, you bitch? I left a good job and a good woman.”

You and Dean both were taken aback by that last part, but you didn’t even care. “Well then, I guess nothing’s stopping you from going back there then, is there?”

Dean slipped his hand into yours, just like he did that night at the concert and squeezed it tightly.

“Go fuck yourself, you whore,” he spat and shook his head. “This, this is mine, along with everything in it,” he motioned back wildly towards the house. “Car, too. So, if you leave, you leave with the shirt on your back and nothing else.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Fine by me. This shirt, this is my most prized possession anyway.” You turned to Dean and thought about kissing him right there, but you didn’t want your first kiss with him to be around your soon to be ex-husband. Instead, you simply asked Dean. “Ready?”

He didn’t say a word, only led you away from Martin and towards his car. As he pulled away from the curb, you silently said goodbye to the life you felt so desperately trapped in and didn’t feel one ounce of regret for it.

The first mile or two, both of you were completely silent. Dean moved the car into an empty parking lot of some closed-down supermarket and turned off the engine. The second he turned to you, you moved across the seat and exhaled nervously. His expression softened and his mouth relaxed into the hint of a grin.

“I thought about you every day,” he said, barely above a whisper.

Dean’s hand lightly brushed against your cheek, before lowering his lips towards yours. There had been so much anticipation for this moment on both parts, he didn’t want to rush it. His mouth hovered over yours, barely grazing against you, and when they finally came together it wasn’t anything like you imagined.

There wasn’t fireworks or electric sparks flying everywhere. That had already happened the night you met him. This was more of a reassurance; proof that this man was meant for you, and you for him. Dean kissed you softly, his lips parting only briefly but he didn’t rush it. Your patience had paid off and now you had all the time in the world; no reason to hurry anything along, except your slow burning need to feel more of him.

You positioned your hand on the back of his neck, which encouraged him to part your lips with his tongue. The more your mouths merged together, the more he tasted like mint and coffee, and easily felt better than anything had ever felt in your entire life. Dean’s hands traveled roughly down the length of your side, only pulling away from your kiss to slide himself closer, guiding your hips so you were now straddling his lap in the front seat of the Impala.

“Worth the wait?” you teased before kissing him again.

His hand tangled up in your hair, pushing your mouth deeper onto his. When you were able to come up for air again, he smiled as if still living in a dream. “So fucking worth it.”

“Dean, there’s so much we don’t know—”

“I know, and we will. We will figure it all out. Right now, all I know is that falling in love with you wasn’t a part of my life plan, but I don’t regret that I did. I don’t regret anything. I hope you don’t either.”

“Never,” you replied wistfully.

“You say that now,” he teased, but there was fear in his eyes.

“I will say that always. I knew I was in love with you by the second day I knew you. I just thought it was a crush since you were the first guy that was kind and made me laugh, that didn’t just hit on me or grab my ass. You made me feel so much just by talking to me, laughing with me. That concert, I wanted to kiss you, tell you to keep driving… but I got scared.”

“I wish you had,” he rasped and cupped your cheek with his hand. He slowly guided your face to his, allowing your lips to engage each other again. This time it was even harder to break away and you nearly weren’t able too. Cooler heads prevailed and eventually, you climbed off his lap, leaving him very clearly affected.

“That hotel you stayed at… think your room is still available?” you asked cautiously. “I mean, we don’t have to rush anyth—”

Dean started the engine and peeled out onto the road, roaring down the pavement and straight back to where he woke up that morning. You couldn’t help but throw your head back and laugh at his reaction. As his one hand rested on the wheel, directing the Impala down the highway, his other arm wrapped around your shoulder and pulled you in.

“Patience is great and all, but I’m done waiting, now that I actually got you,” he said and kissed the top of your head, before putting his eyes back on the road.

You buried yourself into the crook of his arm and rested your hand on his thigh. You didn’t care what came next, you were pretty damn content right where you were and had no plans on going anywhere.

#cole winchester writing challenge #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester angst

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matthewtkachuk · 4 years

Text

mad woman - topper thornton

The one where Topper’s insecurities and jealousy have driven you mad

Warnings: toxic relationship, domestic abuse of the emotional/psychological/slight physical variety, gaslighting

Pairing: Topper x reader

Words: 2.3k

A/N: This is based on mad woman by T Swift. Y’all I just love folklore so much, I couldn’t help myself. Special s/o to my bb @jellyfishbeansontoast for encouraging me to write this one ILYSM 🥺

(gif found on tenor - pls pls let me know if it’s yours and i’ll credit you!!)

What did you think I'd say to that? Does a scorpion sting when fighting back? They strike to kill, and you know I will

Fighting with Topper is nothing new. He’s a full kook, living on mommy and daddy’s money, five hundred dollar shirts, five thousand dollar watch. You grew up on the other side of the island, mama shuffling three jobs on top of taking care of you, your father having bailed before you had even made your entrance into this world. His overprivileged upbringing causing him to spout off some really uneducated opinions about class and income disparity in your presence. He used to admire the way you would pop off, trying your best to educate the boy who had stolen your heart. He loved your fire and your heart and honestly it was kind of hot watching you get mad. Now it just annoys him, you can tell. He no longer entertains your rants, but rather shuts you up quickly.

“You know, those pogues just don’t work as hard as we do. That’s why they’re over there in their run down houses, and we’re here sipping expensive champagne on a hundred thousand dollar yacht.” Topper announces unexpectedly one afternoon as you sit tucked under his arm on the Cameron’s yacht. Your mouth falls open in indignation as his friends all agree with him.

You’re not stupid, you know the group you’re in don’t think highly of your kind, but they’ve always treated you with a modicum of respect as Topper’s girlfriend.

“Are you serious, Top? You think pogues don’t work hard enough? My mom works three jobs, Top. Three! I work two jobs myself, and here I am choosing to spend my very limited free time with you and you’re going to say shit like that.”

Topper rolls his eyes, reaching for your arm but you jump back from him. “Come on, y/n it’s not that serious, sit back down.”

“Not that serious? Fuck you Top, of course it’s not that serious to you. You don’t understand the meaning of hard work, you’ve never had to lift a finger to get to where you are.” You’re glaring at him now, so unbelievably frustrated that he’s stubbornly sticking to his earlier statement. “Take me back Rafe,” you turn your glare on Rafe who looks between you and Topper, clearly conflicted.

“Listen baby you’re being crazy,” Topper tries again to reach for you but you swat away his hand.

“I’m serious Rafe, take me back or I will jump off this boat and swim back.” You threaten your boyfriend’s best friend. Despite his earlier aggressions against your friends, he’s always treated you the best since becoming Topper’s girlfriend. And he knows you’re more than likely serious, so he sighs and steers the yacht back towards the docks. You sit on the other end of the boat, ignoring Topper’s attempts to half-heartedly apologize.

The second you near the docks, you don’t waste any time waiting for Rafe to tie the boat to the dock, you make the jump unaided. You see JJ and Pope giving you a concerned look from Heyward’s boat. Their concern only grows as Topper yells your name and tells you to come back. You don’t even look back as you throw your middle finger at him over your shoulder before hopping into Heyward’s boat.

They try and ask you if you’re okay and what happened, but you just shake your head and tell them you don’t want to talk about it. You hear Topper swear as he hits the dock, not fast enough to reach the boat before JJ is driving off.

Your friends don’t like him. They really, really don’t like him. Years of bad blood between him and all of you have them suspicious and untrusting. You don’t fault them for that, having been witness to some of the worst kook v pogue showdowns, but you know both sides have their faults. Sure Topper was responsible for ratting out Pope which resulted in JJ going off the rails after being forced to pay 25k in restitution, but Pope sunk his new speed boat.

But your friends said they would try, for you, and so you don’t really want to get into the specifics of why Topper has made you so mad, lest they renege on their deal.

Every time you call me crazy, I get more crazy What about that? And when you say I seem angry, I get more angry

You’ve cooled down by the time night rolls around, and so you find yourself sitting on the beach between Topper’s legs, your back pressed to his chest and his arms wrapped around your middle. You’re enjoying the sounds of the waves crashing on the beach and the feel of your boyfriend wrapped around you when he has to open his mouth and ruin the moment.

“I don’t understand why you have to get so crazy. I was just talking with the boys,” he murmurs behind you. You can’t tell if he’s actively trying to rile you up or if it’s just a side effect of his lack of courtesy.

“Crazy?” You ask him incredulously before repeating yourself, “Crazy?! Oh I am sorry for being so insane standing up for my mother. How would you like it if I made a comment about your mom, huh?”. You struggle against him, but he links his arms around you tighter.

“Hey, calm down! I didn’t say anything about your mother, you’re the one just looking for something to be angry about.” He replies, more than a little annoyed at your combative response.

You throw his arms off of you, angrily scrambling to find purchase in the sand to pull yourself up. “I’m not looking for anything! You drive me crazy, you make me angry!”

You were never the most combative of people, growing up around JJ you let him be the hotheaded one whose temper flared at every minor sleight. You on the other hand preferred to sit back from the action, only stepping in when your friends were in trouble.

Topper brought out another side in you. At first you thought it was a good thing, he made you feel so much, made you so passionate.

“I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean it like that,” he sighs as he stands up to walk in front of you, grabbing your hands.

“Every time you call me crazy, I get more crazy,” you admit to him, “and when you say I seem angry I only get more angry. Why are you trying to antagonize me?”

He drops one of your hands to rest one on your face, letting his thumb stroke your cheekbone first and then your bottom lip. You look up at him

“I don’t mean it like that, you know that baby.” He leans in to kiss you and you let him, “Can you just try and be a little more calm and unassertive around my friends, you know it bothers me when you act out like that.”

“I know,” you reply quietly, all fire in you extinguishing further with every press of his lips to yours.

“Thank you, baby. You know I love you, all of you. Even the scrappy, crazy, angry pogue parts of you,” he kisses you again.

You think his words are supposed to be a compliment, but they just sit around in your gut causing you discomfort.

No one likes a mad woman You made her like that And you'll poke that bear 'til her claws come out And you find something to wrap your noose around

“You’re cheating on me aren’t you?” He yells, under the influence of several beers and at least one line of coke you imagine. You roll your eyes, attempting to push past him, not wanting to get into this again. Especially not in his inebriated state. He has other ideas though, spinning you around by grabbing your wrist before pushing your shoulders into the wall, caging you in between it and his warm body.

You struggle against him, “what the fuck Top get off of me!”. He only presses you into the wall further.

“Answer the fucking question, y/n. Are you cheating on me with one of your shitty little pogue friends?” He spits in your face, anger taking over his usually delicate features. As you look into his blue eyes, pupils dilated almost entirely, you realize you don’t recognize this Topper.

Topper has always been jealous and insecure, Sarah Cameron really did a number on him when she went and shacked up with John B behind his back. You had tried your best to reassure him at every turn that you weren’t Sarah and you would never do that to him, but that didn’t stop him from blowing up with jealousy over your friends. It probably related to the fact that you hung around Sarah and John B, or maybe your close friendship with Pope and JJ. Topper was jealous of how close you were with all of them, sometimes angrily calling you every five minutes when you were alone with any one of them.

“Of course not, what are you talking about?” You shout back, hands wrapping around your body defensively.

“I’m not fucking stupid, I know you’re doing something with one of them, so which is it? Heyward? Maybank? Or do you share Routledge with Sarah?”

You’re trying to placate him, but he just keeps poking and poking, “I’m not fucking any of them, God Topper what the fuck?”

“You’re just a stupid pogue whore,” he snarls at you, shoving you harshly against the wall once more before letting you go. You cry out, as your head smashes against the wall painfully, causing you to see stars.

“Fuck you Topper,” you seethe, pushing him back with all of your strength. The alcohol coursing through his veins causes him to stumble a bit more than he would have sober, allowing you to escape. “It’s fucking over!”

“Good, I never fucking loved you anyway,” he shouts back at you, “It was just a game, to try and fuck a pogue and make her fall in love with me.” You feel his words like a noose around your neck, pulling tightly and suffocating the breath right out of you.

You’re sobbing, unsure of how you managed to escape that house with Topper’s words chasing you the whole way. Every kiss, every word, every I love you passed through your mind. You gave him your virginity for fuck’s sake, you gave him every part of you and he had taken everything from you, thrown it in your face, insulting you and calling you a whore.

You know you can’t go home like this, so you head to the one place you know you’ll be able to find comfort, walking into the Chateau and directly into Kie’s arms.

Now I breathe flames each time I talk My cannons all firin' at your yacht They say "move on," but you know I won't

You’re angry now, the spell broken between you and Topper. Realizations of the months of gas lighting and emotional abuse crashing into your world view like the waves in tropical storm. You recognize that your months of excusing his behaviour based on what he went through in the past was just that – excusing his shitty behaviour. His prior relationships had nothing to do with you, and it wasn’t right of him to take it out on you.

You spend many nights ranting and raving to the pogues, who mercifully limit their ‘I-told-you-so’s under the threatening gaze of one Kiara Carrera.

“I can’t believe I was blind for so long, I let him treat me like shit and I pushed you guys away.” You’re laying on the bow of the HMS with Sarah and Kie beside you.

“It’s not your fault, y/n/n, believe me,” Sarah tells you, running a hand through your hair soothingly.

“I don’t condone cheating, but I almost understand why you did it,” you admit tearfully to Sarah, who only smiles at you.

Two weeks pass like this, before JJ interrupts your ranting telling you it’s time to move on and that any guy would be lucky to land the hottest chick on the island. The sentiment makes you smile, but you know you won’t be able to move on. Not just yet. Topper had your whole heart and had tossed it onto the concrete, shattering it into a million pieces.

The pogues decide the best cure for heart break is to throw a wild kegger and let you get drunk out of your mind to forget. JJ even gives you a joint, winking at you and telling you “hydroponic” before throwing finger guns at you and walking away. Things are going well, you’re three or four beers in, all cares thrown into the wind when your spine stiffens as you spot Topper.

You catch his eye from across the boneyard, your pulse painfully beating in your ears as your traitorous heart races at the sight of him. He’s got his arm around some pretty little kook who you’d only really seen at Figure 8 parties he had dragged you to. You think there’s a little guilt in his expression, maybe a little longing and regret too, but his arm remains firmly around the girl. She looks up at Topper, before following his gaze right to you. You see her tense, and then relax as you hear clear as day not to worry, that you’re just some crazy pogue.

You meet his eyes again, mouthing “Fuck you forever”, before leaning into Kie’s side as you walk back into the thick of the party, letting Topper tell the next girl you’re just a mad woman.

No one likes a mad woman What a shame she went mad You made her like that

obx tag list (ily guys!!): @danicarosaline @velyssaraptor @copper-boom

#obx #obx fanfiction #topper obx #topper x you #topper x reader #topper imagine #topper fanfiction #topper thornton x you #topper thornton x reader #topper thornton imagine #topper thornton faniction #diverdcwn writes #t swift folklore #songfic

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barnes-dameron · 5 years

Text

No Mistake, Just a Happy Accident (Ch. 8)

*not my gif*

Poe Dameron x Reader (Jane the Virgin AU)

Summary: Your life couldn’t be more on track. You’re on track to graduate from college, you had an amazing relationship with your mom and grandma, and you had an even better relationship with your boyfriend of two years, Finn. It couldn’t be better. But after a medical malfunction, you find yourself pregnant with another man’s child; and that other man is your boss, Poe Dameron. You’re life gets turned up side down when this happens, but you try your best to look on the bright side.

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: Got caught up and loved Jane the Virgin, and I thought this would be interesting with Poe. Changed the story up a bit, but I’m excited. It’s a bit shorter than my other ones... Taglist open.

“And there’s the feet, and then there’s the head,” the doctor said, pointing out the little features on the screen.

You felt Poe’s callused hand gently squeeze your own, causing you to look up to meet his smiling face. It’s been about 3 weeks since your kiss with Poe, and you couldn’t be happier. You’ve been on multiple dates with Poe, and by “dates” it was more like shopping for the baby. Despite the lack of romantic atmosphere, you learned a lot from Poe; his past, his family, his business, his ambitions. He seemed different from the Poe of three years ago, but he still had the charm that caught your heart. You returned your attention to the screen, looking at the monochromatic images of your baby.

“Can you tell the gender?” you asked, squinting your eyes a bit to try and make out the sex from the obscure image.

“Yes,” the doctor replied, shuffling through the papers in your file. “Would you like to know today?”

“No,” Poe interjected, causing you to glance up at him. He pressed his lips into a thin line, shrugging his shoulders. “I want it to be a surprise. Gender doesn’t matter, as long as it’s healthy, right?”

“Well yeah,” you said. “Are you sure? You’re not a little bit curious?”

“I mean I’m curious,” he pondered. “But I like the thrill and excitement when the baby comes. And we only have two months left, you can wait, right?”

“Yeah,” you assured him. “We can wait, only two more months.”

“Two more months,” Poe whispered, bring his face centimeters from yours. You pressed your lips into a smile, trying to contain the excitement that always bubbled up inside you whenever Poe was near. “And our little baby will be here.”

Poe smiled before pressing his lips to yours. It was short, but the sweet taste of his lips were ever embed in yours.

“Is this something that I have to come to?” Poe asked, swinging a balloon that he’s been blowing up back and forth.

“You don’t have to,” you stated, setting down a napkin wrapped silverware next to a plate. “But if you want to go out and grab a drink with your friends, then go ahead.”

Poe let the balloon go, and watched it fly around the room in a scattered pattern. Today was the day of your baby shower, which your mom and grandma insisted that you have. Poe, being Poe, encouraged your relatives since he thought it was a great idea to get friends together and enjoy the fact that you’re bring life into the world. You mom made sure that you didn’t plan anything; she didn’t want to stress you out since you had school to finish and the baby on the way. You hated the idea of people not letting you do anything since you were pregnant. They treated you as if you were made of glass, a little push and you could break. Poe was the biggest one. As soon as you started showing, Poe practically forced you go on maternity leave from the restaurant and made sure you didn’t lift anything over five pounds. It sucked at certain points, but you learned to pick your battles. At least your mother let you help to set the place up.

He laughed quietly before going behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle and rubbing his hands over your swollen belly. He rested his chin on your shoulder, taking in the sweet scent of your perfume.

“I’ll stay,” he whispered softly into your ear. “I want to see these people’s faces when they hear our story.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Seven months ago, you were engaged and pregnant with another man’s baby through a medical mishap. Now you were in love with the father of your baby. It was certainly a turn of events.

“It would certainly be interesting,” you said.

Guests came, and stared in awe and confusion as they listened attentively to Poe and yours story. Poe was right; the expressions on their faces were priceless. Other than the storytelling, the shower was going great. Everybody seemed to enjoy themselves with the food that D’Qar was serving, the games that your mother organized, and taking turn of feeling your belly.

In between talking and going to the bathroom (which you did often), you watched as Poe talked to old friends and fellow employees of the restaurant, his eyes lighting up when he talked about something that interested him. A smile always crept across your face when seeing him like that. You looked down and rested your hand on top of your belly. God, you hope that this little baby growing inside you would have the excitement of life just like it’s father.

“Y/N,” you heard your mother say, interrupting your thoughts. “Come over here, and open the gifts.”

Grabbing a glass of water, you approached the chair that was awaiting you next to the table filled with gifts and presents. One by one you read aloud every card and opened every gift, holding up multiple objects showing the crowd that replied with oooo’s and aaahhh’s. Poe stood in the back, watching you open every present. He never thought that he would have this after his accident; a woman that he deeply loves carrying his child. To him it seemed like a dream, and he hoped that it would never end.

At that moment, the bang of the wooden door of the private room hitting the wall drew everybody’s attention away from you to the figure in the doorway. You looked up, your heartbeat quickening as your stomach sank to the ground. Finn stood in the doorway, his gun in his holster and his badge displayed for all to see. He scanned the room before laying his eyes on a particular person.

Finn took long confident strides as he approached Poe, grabbing his shoulder and slamming him on a nearby table. You watched in horror as Finn produced handcuffs from his belt and cuffed Poe’s wrists together by his back.

“Poe Dameron,” Finn began. “You are under arrest for suspicion of gang involvement and violence with the First Order. Anything you say can and will be held against you.”

You stood up from you seat, and tried to make your way through the small crowd of people.

“Poe?” you exclaimed, trying to get his attention. “Poe!”

“Y/N!” he shouted back. “Stay where you are!”

Poe turned his shoulder, giving a death glare at Finn.

“Stay where you are,” Poe repeated. “This won’t take long.”

Finn tugged Poe off the table, and began to push him towards the doors. Poe looked towards his assistant, resisting Finn’s advances for a moment.

“Call my lawyer,” Poe commanded his assistant before allowing Finn to push him again.

You watched as Finn shoved Poe along down the hall, leading him outside of the building to an awaiting cop car. Every step they made as their figures were slowly receding out of view was a crack in your heart. Once Finn and Poe left, the eyes of the guests slowly turned back towards you. Air couldn’t reach your lungs; a breath was caught in your throat. You sat yourself down on the closest chair as the room around began to sway to and fro. You placed a hand over your heart as you tried to bite back a sob that was threatening to be let loose. Tears stung in the back of your eyes as you began to process what just happened. But the question is...what just happened?

That’s it for chapter eight! Let me know if you want to be tagged. To be continued…

Taglist: @that-girl-named-alex @multific@lilrockstartitan145 @samanthasmileys @i-said-goddameron

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #star wars #Star Wars The Force Awakens #star wars the last jedi #Oscar Isaac #oscar isaac x reader #writing #fanfic

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