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4seasonsofart · 10 months

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Holy Devil With Your Darkened Wings

Vampire Thorfinn x Priest Canute Trigger Warning: Self harm, depressed Canute, religious trauma, suggestive themes Part 1: Sin For Me

Among the most high of holy beings, there are the most dark of all devils. Mankind was never made to stand in the middle of these warring entities. The most corrupted of all mankind are not the ones that hide in the darkness, but the ones that dance in the light. We all have our secrets, and some are best left untold. Even the most holy may be seduced into sin.

A preacher of God lies in the confession box. A cracked bottle of whiskey in one hand and a glass of gin in the other. The mark of the vampire lies on his neck, decaying the skin around it, his holiness fading with it. He prays fervently, like a dehydrated man lost in the desert and abandoned. The words fall off his lips like stones, ones that he used to throw at the glass houses of the unsaved.

"Never allow the lust of mankind to corrupt me, oh Lord." He whispers breathlessly as he takes a despondent swig of his gin. "I will not be seduced by this devil of the night."

He swallows the rest of the whiskey and finishes his gin. He stills for a moment, and without a second thought, he violently slams his head against the confession box. He shrieks out like a hunted animal looking for its kin. He arches his back as he drives his glassware against the hardwood floors of the holy ground. The toxic shards of glass dig into his palms like the thorns of a crown.

His crimson blood slowly trickles over his palms as he lets out a choked sob. He doesn't pull out the shards of hopeless divinity as he tightens his well-worn fingers into the punishment for his own sins. He hides in the confession box. He begs the heavenly being for salvation from the beasts mark on his pale neck.

"I am not worth your salvation; my holiness has been tainted. You gave me your body and blood, and now I am depraved of it. I deserve the punishment! I deserve the death!" He sobs out with his tortured soul as he wraps his lacerated hands around his aching throat.

He pushes his hands into his once-pristine neck as that same human sin flows out of him. He's being cleansed of that night's devil's mark. He just needs to be cleansed. Like the water washing sins away, his blood will wash the mark. He tears his clerical collar away from his cleansed neck as his hands buzz with the holiness that he has regained. He no longer sees any harm but the good that comes from his actions. The booze tastes like the body of Christ, the new blood within him... Christ's blood.

He knows that he must cut the mark out of him! Stop the infection of the satanic offenses on his holy body. First, he must rid himself of the rest of his faults. He must become clean. He must become new.

He unbuttons his cassock only to his chest as he shakily pulls out a pocket knife. "Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven." He mutters under his breath as he makes oddly angelic lacerations of the cross all along his body.

The tainted sin of mankind mixes in with the grounds of holiness. Soon enough, nothing is evil anymore; there is only God, the real God, and the angels above. He finishes his obsessive life of prayers as he digs his split fingernails into the devil's mark.

"How far mankind has fallen." A silken voice of lustful pleasures reaches his ears and echoes across his soul. His trousers tighten instinctively as that foreign feeling sinks down into his core like a soul into hell.

His eyes snap open as he is met with the devils entrancing hazel irises. He adorns a different seductive cloth tonight. A white-laced baby doll dress that barely hangs past his upper thighs. He wears a pair of pink and white stripped knee highs that meet the ends of his— sinful outfit. Canute gulps down hard as all thoughts of his cleansing begin to drift to the dark recesses of his mind.

"So surprised to see me again, my priestess?" Thorfinn purrs out like a content cat that has just reconnected with its owner.

He places himself on Canute's lap without a care in the world as he positions his thighs right outside of Canute's. He hums in an almost heavenly manner as he tenderly begins picking the shards of glass out of Canute. His fangs enlarge again as he takes in the aroma of Canute's intoxicating blood.

He watches as Canute's eyes widen, and he is able to feel his heart rate speed up. He shuts his mouth as he continues to pluck every single piece of glass with as much care as a craftsman has while making their magnum opus. They sit together in such a compromising position. Thorfinn's frigid breath causes goosebumps along his bloodied figure.

"Allow me to be your savior for once, dear." He speaks in such a sweetened tone that no mortal is able to resist.

Canutes irises grow clouded with an unknown haze as his body becomes encased in that same obsidian ooze. Thorfinn presses one of his lifeless fingers against Canute's lips as he gently shushes him. He smirks triumphantly, although Canute's vision is much to hazy to see it. 'Right along with my plan. My mark always works wonders.'

"Who do you belong to?" Thorfinn inquires in such a soft tone as he squeezes his thighs against Canute.

"Y-You..." He trails off as his head hits the back of the confession box.

"Are you mine?"

"I am yours." He finalizes, like the last nail on the cross.

Canute's eyes roll into the back of his head with those cursed words as his body goes limp. Thorfinn's virtuous smile morphs into a gnarled simper. He plants his fangs gently into his priestesses tender skin as his mouth wraps around his neck like a boa constrictor. His tongue connects with the nectar that he has so been deprived of as he moans out gutturally.

"I want to bleed you dry. Wanna make you mine, my sweet love." He murmurs in a frenzied manner as his pupils dilate into crimson gems.

"Thorfinn, hurry the hell up; boss wants us back in the den soon." Torgrim shouts obnoxiously as he lazily bangs on the side of the confession box.

The foreign gooey substance disappears from Canute's limp body as it is left in pristine condition. Thorfinn hisses out in an irritated manner as his delicious meal time has been rudely interrupted. "Tell baldy he can fucking wait! He's got all eternity!"

He begrudgingly detaches his fangs from his lover's neck as he gently peppers a set of kisses over the mark he gave him. He growls out as Torgrim interrupts him again by banging on the box so harshly that the wood splinters.

"Keep your fucking fangs in your mouth, asshole!"

The musky scent of rotted corpses attacks the nostrils of the fallen priest. His soul is at rest in this moment, although his body is shocked awake. The pure amount of malice and demonic energy emanating from everything here makes him wish he had his rosary. He frantically looks around as he realizes his cloth has been removed from him, his injuries healed, his bare body exposed to the elements.

He's isolated, for now. No light streams into the darkness of the barren cave. Only the stench of satanic rituals and the occasional drop of water are felt. He stands up and keeps his legs closed as he stumbles in the darkness. All of the hairs along his figure rise to their peak as his entire body is lined with warnings of the danger ahead. Stalactite and stalagmites make jagged teeth within the confines of this tomb filled with demise.

Impossibly finite rocks dig into his soft flesh mercilessly. The occasional trail of groundwater mixed with limestone and the fluids from the desecrated deceased. Tortured echoes of mortal misery and ecstasy reverberate through his eardrums. He shudders as a frozen draft enters the tunnel he is walking through.

A beastly hiss enters the shell of Canute's ear, one that is much airier than that of Thorfinn. It is fleeting and tortured, as its intensity dies out like a flame on a ceremonial candle. The temperature immediately rises once again as Canutes fight or flight is quelled for a few moments.

"Oi, Priest Canute? What are you doing in the vampire caves?" A familiar voice chirps in.

Canute is startled for a moment and turns around quickly while rushing to make himself presentable. He keeps an iron grip on his legs to keep the cove of his privates covered from this newcomer. He crosses his arms over his chest to hide his nipples and some of the hair that trails shamefully along his stomach downward. He is a man of God; he shouldn't be seen in such a compromising position. Lewd. Horrid. Sinful.

His eyes lock on Garm's crazed gaze as a specially crafted spear still lies in the throat of a now-lifeless vampire. It isn't even twitching or hissing as its puncture wound rapidly rots away. The vampire is soon nothing but dust in the winds of time. His spear, Canute notices, is engraved with many protective and religious sigils that are only made in the highest covenant of witches. Canutes brows furrow as his head lifts away in pure repulsion. 'A vampire hunter? Another disgrace towards the church.'

Garm is still adorned in his alter boy apparel, although it is stained with the devil's sinful blood. A strange glinting is caught within the darkness of the earthen tunnels. A pair of vampire teeth lie proudly off of his ears, like earrings, like he is proud of how easily he kills these beasts. His normally couth and pulled-back blonde hair is now spiked up with gel, as if his hair were now a death trap of its own. The young man quirks a curious eyebrow towards the priest as he uncaps a bottle of the church's communion wine and chugs it down. A few droplets escape his lips and make their way onto his clothes.

He speaks in the most dignified tone that he is able to muster. "Garm, alter boy, is that the communion wine?"

"You mean the Jesus juice?" He mutters off passively as he wipes his mouth. He has emptied the communion wine bottle by now, so he lazily tosses it into the side of the cave wall.

"The utter disrespect you have just shown to Jesus's sacrifice."

"Eh?" Garm chuckles out happily. "So fucking around with a vampire isn't disgraceful? I'm not the one who is currently naked and nearing a vampire den." He points towards the bare figure of Canute as he chuckles.

"How did you—"

He's cut off during his stunned answer as Garm promptly replies. "The church hired me along with Thorkell to protect you. Naturally, I joined that shitty church of yours. Never really understood that Jesus fellow." He trails off as he snaps his fingers and remembers his words. "Vampires leave a sort of residue, I saw some around the church. Next thing I know, I hear you moaning and I see a Vamp banging on the side of the confession box."

Canute's heart rate picks up as his hazy memories fail to fill in the gaps. He does remember Thorfinn. His seducing tongue, his traitorous fangs, his erotic actions. How he— "Wait, did you harm Thorfinn!?" He blurts out suddenly as tears threaten to spill from his eyes. One of his hands moves from his chest towards the mark, it's soothing now in a way. An emptiness fills him, yet somehow, he knows that Thorfinn isn't dead.

"Woah, woah there, didn't know you guys had fucked that much." He snickers unhingedly. "Unfortunately, I did not. He got away from me and took you with him!" His face morphs into a pout as he shakes his head. Canute sighs in relief as one of his fingers gingerly caresses Thorfinns mark.

"Coward! I want a worthy vampire opponent and he keeps slipping from my hands!" Garm angrily stabs his spear into the side of the rock as he grins. "Least I got that one scratching on the side of the box. Didn't put up much of a fight. Froze like a stupidly pathetic deer." He repeatedly stabs the rock to get out his frustrations.

Canute's feet scream for relief, his mind for his church, and his heart for his love. He loves God, always. He gulps as he shakes any straying thoughts from his mind. "Garm... I..." Canute trails off as he everything has gone blank.

His eyes shoot back up towards Canute as a wide grin plasters itself onto his face. "Oh the tunnels, yeah? Let's you get you outta here. Thorkell is just a few turns down." He states in a cheeky manner as he springs up. He taps the shoulder of Canute as he happily trots along, deeper into the network of vampire tunnels.

Canutes stumbles as his feet are bloody messes. Garm doesn't look back nor slow down his walk. He is oddly excited to be in this situation, despite having lost his kill. "You always talk a lot during your sermons. Not so much now, eh?" He mutters as he looks back at his partners struggle. He rolls his eyes and grabs his hand while pulling him along hurriedly.

"How do you know of this place? You called them 'vampire caves'." Canute inquires hesitantly as he attempts to keep himself decently covered... to no avail.

"Oh, I know my way around here. I go through the vamp tunnels as they're like shortcuts. They connect to all the dens filled with those promising opponents." He giggles maniacally as he bumps shoulders with Canute. "Technically, mortals aren't allowed in this place. Bullshit. Good practice. Always an opponent willing to try (and fail) to cut down the undefeated Garm." He proclaims proudly.

"Oh." Is the only word that is able to escape his chapped lips.

"Oh?" Garm snorts as he comes upon an impatient Thorkell. They have come upon a lightened exit. The lively sound of animals and the content forest in a stark change of pace from the depressing and alluring charm of the tunnels.

The giant looks at both Garm and Canute with a pleased smile as he adjusts the weight of his twin axes over his shoulders. "Look at how spry you two are! We'll surely catch Thorfinn now!"

"You're right, Thorkell! I get to battle him first!" Garm declares as he shoots a threatening glare towards Thorkell. Canute places his weary foot back and this isn't unnoticed by Garm. He tightens his firm grip on the unclothed arm of Canute.

"No fair! I've been hunting him longer!" Thorkell whines softly as he stomps around.

"I found our bait, so I get the first stab at him."

In less than a blink of an eye, Thorkell has one of his axes near Garm's throat. Garm expertly blocks the swing with his well-crafted spear. "Very well. Only one stab. Then, he's fair game for either of us to kill."

Canute interrupts their bickering with a statement. His voice is shaken and once again his dread creeps within him like a vine ensnaring his soul. 'What is wrong? Why must my moods be ever changing?' "Bait, you said? It is highly illegal to use a servant of God as bait for one of those beasts!"

Garm and Thorkell both make eye contact with each other as they have a hearty laugh. "Who says the church has to know?" They both ask in an unnerving unison. They look like cackling hyenas within his shaded blue irises.

"You despicable Vampire Hunters! You have no honor!" Canute spits out in an exasperated manner as his face tints slightly red.

Thorkell does the scariest thing a mortal can do. He goes quiet. He has an outburst of white, hot rage as he grabs Canute and presses him against the side of the cave. The slimey stone digs into his soft flesh so harshly that a quiet whimper escapes his lips. "You, have no honor. You are a priest! A coward! You fight no battle, you only sit upon your mighty hill and past arrogant glances towards us all!"

"You know what they say Thorkell?" Garm snickers mischievously. "The bigger the dick, the better the warrior."

Thorkell casts his glance down towards his private areas and then nudges Canutes legs towards the side forcefully. "I suppose both Garm and I are definitely better warriors than you."

They laugh in a monstrous manner, Canute can't tell which monsters he'd rather be with. He hangs his head in utter shame as his cheeks burn brighter than any flame that has put those unrighteous to death. His back slowly leaks his crimson tears of unholiness as his feet are torn by the roads of the fallen before him. The last drop falls into the depths of the darkness and rolls off as the two men shout about something that Canute is unable to focus on. They drag him to the edge of the tunnels carelessly; he's handled like a common slave. He's forced to stand as he takes a step out into the sun. He hisses in the most excruciating pain that he has ever experienced.

"Little priestess, did you really think that you could escape me?" Thorfinn mutters out in a sweetened manner. He stands nonchalantly near the edge of the darkness. His finger swipes across the edge of the cave as he collects a bit of his lovers blood. He sticks it in his mouth as a pleased moan escapes his plump lips.

"Thorfinn!" The hunters shout excitedly in unison.

Thorfinn gnarls out demonically as he sees his injured lovers state. "You bastards! To hell with the both of you!" He clenches his fists so tightly that his lifeless tissue tinges a brusied violet.

"We'll take you there with us." Garm challenges as his spear ends up precariously sitting on the edge of his lovers adam's apple.

Before Thorfinn has time to react a hand tugs on his shoulder. "No time Thorfinn, I'll let Bjorn deal with those life breathing morons." A strangers honeyed and irritated voice barks.

"Fuck off old man; they're mine."

"No." The word in spoken in all finality. No room for argument.

Canute is thrown towards the ground in surprise as a force of nature falls over the entrance of the cave. A force so strong and mighty that even Canutes soul trembles heavily. It is as if even the stench of death and sex that wafts from the caves is overpowered. It is a beast.

"Good man Bjorn, rip the hunters apart. We must be going." The estranged voice states passively. As if the wild creatures aura was more of a comfort than a fear.

The pleased shouts of the beastly hunters are drowned out as that foreign ooze seeps into Canute's very core. A moment later, it has once again disappeared, and he falls into Thorfinn's arms. He is barely able to see through the haze of his eyes, as the temperature here is more frigid than that of the church. A figure walks up to Thorfinn in this. He can't see; all he knows is that he is in the caves still.

"Thorfinn~" A cheery yet masculine voice beams. "A little birdy told me that you saw the hunters today. Was Garm there?" He inquires eagerly, barely able to contain himself.

"Elisei." Thorfinn sneers flatly. "You've got angel blood all over you."

"Don't avoid the question love~" Elisei purrs out as Canute is detached from Thorfinn momentarily.

"Go fuck yourself!"

"No, I'd much rather do it with you and Garm." Elisei giggles in a crazed manner as his hand gently pats the top of Canutes head. "Prey?"

"I am not going to be part of one of your weird vampire sex orgys." Canute is barely able to see Thorfinn spit on Elisei and Elisei thank him. "Don't you dare lay a hand on him. He isn't prey... he's it."

"Wait, so you saw Garm today and you got to taste the blood of the one?" Elisei squeals as he drags his finger across Canutes neck. "Bastard, you marked him." He states in a desperately pouty tone almost the same as Garm. "No worry, I'll just give him one of my own."

Canute is barely able to make out the shape of this Elisei character. He is about the same height as Garm and has long, shaggy brunette hair. Canute weakly covers his neck as he backs himself into one of the earthen walls. He looks in the direction of where Thorfinn stands with pleading eyes.

"I am going to—"

"You two bitch like dogs in heat." A gruff and gritty voice mutters as a burly arm tugs on Canute.

"Bjorn, you're wings look like they could use some trimming~ I've got a special potion that I could—" Elisei is cut off as well.

"Quiet vampire witch. Lest I rip your fangs from your mouth and sacrifice you to Askeladd." The beast Canute met earlier now one hundred percent confirmed as Bjorn.

"He's mine." Thorfinn mumbles as Bjorn shushes him with one of his wings.

"He is a mortal. He was harmed when you so carelessly left him in one of our tunnels that was explored by humans. He needs a bath and a warm bed. These are direct orders. End of discussion you brat."

Bjorn raises Canute bridal style and carries him within his powerful arms.

"Thank you..." Canute mutters weakly.

Bjorn doesn't reply as he moves to carry out the order given to him. Although, an invisible smile etches across his ancient features.

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insilverrolled · 1 year

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Better to Marry Than to Burn

By Traci Brimhall [x]

Home, then, where the past was. Then, where cold pastorals repeated their entreaties, where a portrait of Christ hung in every bedroom. Then was a different country in a different climate in a time when souls were won and lost in prairie tents. It was. It was. Then it was a dream. I had no will there. Then the new continent and the new wife and the new language for no, for unsaved, for communion on credit. Then the daughter who should’ve been mine, and the hour a shadow outgrew its body. She was all of my failures, my sermon on the tender comforts of hatred in the shape of a girl. Then the knowledge of God like an apple in the mouth. I faced my temptation. I touched its breasts with as much restraint as my need allowed, and I woke with its left hand traced again and again on my chest like a cave wall disfigured by right-handed gods who tried to escape the stone. It was holy. It was fading. My ring, then, on my finger like an ambush, as alive as fire. Then the trees offered me a city in the shape of a word followed by a word followed by a blue madonna swinging from the branches. A choir filed out of the jungle singing hallelujah like a victory march and it was.

#traci brimhall

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saintrocklee · 2 years

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Hiii can I have ❛ do you think i’d let anything happen to you? ❜ with kakuzu pls 🙆🏻‍♀️

💰 kakuzu x reader 💰 supernatural (ish) AU part one | part two | part three warnings: again, nothing crazy. mentions of an abusive relationship, kakuzu being a creep and cranky and kinda mean but that’s why we like him.

this is part two of my kakuzu prompt series. i recommend reading part one (linked above) before indulging.

you'd expected something to change, after making the deal with kakuzu. something to feel different, to alter in your life - but nothing happens. there were warnings, about how dealing with demons could affect you - make you feel heavier. darker. but nothing happens.

except for what he promised.

the threatening messages from your ex stop immediately. you are no longer followed, your phone isn't blown up by strange unsaved numbers, your bank account goes untouched. it happens in an instant - you wake the next morning, the dread of what you'll find suffocating you, but when you finally leave your bed and check your cell - there's nothing.

it takes you a few months, to get used to the quiet. the nightmares are ever present, the paranoia sticks to you like a brand - but days turns into weeks into months and there's ... nothing.

the relief that hits you one day is blinding.

you move, finally saving up enough to cross state lines and end up in a studio apartment; cheap and old but yours. you find a job and you start out quiet, the urge to make friends and build relationships buried under the age old habit of avoiding people - but after time you make a friend. and then two. and soon, you have a social life.

a job, an apartment, and friends. it's hard - to juggle it all. you've never had so much before; you've never had to deal with bills, deal with talking to people, and balancing out everything. you make mistakes and get frustrated and cry and get angry - but there's never any punishment that comes with it. you're free to do what you please, make mistakes, and while that alone is confusing - when have you ever been able to do what you want? - it's exhilarating.

you think about kakuzu every day.

your monster. your savior. your ... something.

you tried googling him, funnily enough. he wasn't a demon - not the kind you had spent months preparing for. "human hearts" and "magic thread" quickly took over your search history, but you always came up blank.

you had no idea what he was, or why he dealt in hearts - not souls.

and then one night you're wine drunk, scrolling on your busted up laptop, snorting to yourself while an old episode of the office plays in the background.

"you're probably laughing at me, huh?"

silence meets you, save for the sound of your tv, but it doesn't bother you. he never talked back when you spoke to him in strange moments like these. he probably never heard you, no doubt hanging out wherever he lived ... far away from you. from earth, even.

was he a god? you’d never been religious but unexplained things happened all of the time and you always believed in the supernatural. spirits and the like. strange legends always fascinated you but in all of your research you couldn’t find a single piece of information that matched your devil. your monster.

who now had claim on your heart.

you’re certain it’s not romantic - so he must need it for something. to eat, maybe? he needed consent for it, had to wait for you to sign the dotted line … maybe he drew power from it. a monster who needed human hearts to live.

there had to be some irony there.

you fall asleep after awhile, head cocked awkwardly against your couch, empty wine bottle on your coffee table. your laptop is on the floor, next to an empty bowl of popcorn - and your tv plays on, filling your living room with sound. you couldn't fall asleep to silence anymore, silence invited trouble and cast a sense of dread around you, and the wine in your system lulls you into a deep sleep. you're dead to the world, chest rising and falling peacefully, when kakuzu appears, eyes trailing over your form. he takes in the alcohol, the junk food, and curls his lip.

idiot girl, he thinks to himself. you thought him to be long gone, no doubt just waiting for you to die so he could collect what was his and discard the rest of you.

humans were truly ignorant.

you belonged to him, now. you wouldn’t be rid of him so easily. taking care of his half of the contract had been easy - and now he was tied to you, until you expired. you gave him access to Earth, to roam amongst the humans - and he’d gotten bored of all of it immediately.

he was minutely amused, that you desperately tried to find out what he was. there were no books about him, no mention of him in history. he hadn’t been to Earth in centuries and he never interacted with mortals.

the exceptions to his rule beat a steady rhythm in his chest, his five hearts once again syncing up to beat in time with yours. five hearts, five humans, five contracts.

and now, six.

he’d never admit it, but he’s excited by you.

hearts were a powerful thing, in more ways than one. souls were flashy, and gave their controller power, but only in short bursts. souls were only useful in quantity, and kakuzu had no need for fleeting power.

but a heart? a human heart, given away with consent? more powerful, more useful than a thousand souls.

he was agitated though. he thought you would expire quickly, like the humans before you, but Earth had changed and now he finds himself waiting.

he found, to his dismay, that humans lived longer now. no more rampant plague and disease to wipe you out, and you lived in a relatively safe area, no threat of war looming over you. he was certain you’d have a good chance of living until you were old and wrinkling.

it’s annoying, how he has to wait for you to die naturally.

kakuzu watches you sleep, unable to block out the beating of your heart. it’s an enchanting tempo - the way it calls to him. his own hearts mix with yours easily and he finds himself standing there, longer than he meant to, just letting the rhythm lull him into a trance.

his eyes dance across your chest, your neck, landing on your pulse point - watching it beat steadily. he feels his threads pull towards you, and straightens - the sudden need to leave gripping him violently. he turns, casting one last glance behind him, before disappearing.

life goes on and two years later you find yourself ... content. not happy per say, the rampant paranoia and anxiety still crippled you at times - coupled with your PTSD. you’d found a therapist though, a lovely woman who was helping you build confidence and create coping mechanisms. you had friends, just a couple, and you were promoted - now earning more money than you ever had. it’s not a lot, but it’s still all yours, and you’re ... content.

you think about your monster everyday.

he didn’t consume your thoughts anymore, but his name would flit across your memory and you’d be thrown back to that night in the woods. you also talked to him daily, when you were alone. it was cathartic, it made him feel real, and you were positive your words fell on deaf ears.

until one day they didn’t.

you were on your balcony, watering your plants - your boombox on low as you mouthed along to some song on the radio. being surrounded by so much green had you thinking of kakuzu and his eyes and you smile to yourself.

“i wonder - will it be you that kills me or do you have to wait until i’m dead, to come collect my heart.” you murmur out loud. it had been a question on your mind for the better part of a week now. you wished you had some clarity, that night in the woods, to ask these questions.

“i will come just as you draw your last breath, girl.”

you spin, nearly knocking over the plants you were caring for, inhaling a gasp to scream. it lodges itself in your throat, and you shudder a panicked breath when you see him, standing inside of your apartment, just on the other side of your open sliding door.

he looked the exact same, tall and huge, and it’s funny - he barely fits in your living room. his eyes, so bright and green, track your movements - landing to watch your chest as it stutters. his voice was still so low, so dark, and you blink in surprise.

“what are you -” you start, and swallow when his gaze reaches to meet yours, agitation clearly resting on his shoulders.

“you asked.” he drawled, and realization hits you.

“you ... you heard me?” you ask, and kakuzu grunts.

“every damn day, girl. you and your incessant questions.”

oh.

there’s a lick of embarrassment at your heels but you straighten your spine.

“i didn’t know.” you reply and he says nothing in return, gaze fixed on you unblinkingly. it’s silent between the two of you before you feel the urge to speak again, unable to handle the crackling energy in the air.

“can i ... ask more questions?”

again, you receive nothing. it’s starting to get uncomfortable, but you realize that this might be his way of accepting you. he was ... something - a god a devil a demon - he could leave, if he wanted. he could silence you, if he wanted.

so you sit in the small metal chair on your balcony, and you ask your questions. he rewards you with shortly worded answers that have you fighting a smile.

“how old are you?” “old.”

“where do you live?” “elsewhere.”

“why human hearts?” “i enjoy them.”

“how can you hear me?” “i hear many things.”

“do you make deals with humans a lot?” “i do not make deals.”

“fine. contracts.” “no.”

“why me, then?”

he pauses at this and you straighten in your seat, nerves suddenly tingling. he’d avoided giving you any real answers, replying back easily, but this question stumped him. you think you might get something tangible out of him but then -

“maybe next time, girl.”

and with that - he was gone. you blink at the empty space in front of you and smile.

next time.

a few weeks later you find yourself walking back from the small market around the corner - mindlessly scrolling through your phone. some of your friends from work wanted to get together when they got off and you were thinking about going. you wait for the crosswalk sign to turn green and start to cross the street, head bowing to look at your phone again - when suddenly you hear screaming.

you look up and see a woman pointing at you, screaming for you to move, and then you see it - out of the corner of your eye. a car, clearly out of control, was careening toward you -

and you freeze.

the headlights are almost blinding and you tense your body, ready for the impact, when something thin and strong wraps around your waist and tugs - ripping you from your position and carelessly throwing you onto the sidewalk. the car crashes into a pole and you can see the driver was knocked out, or dead, causing the car to spin out of control. people start to run over, and you open your mouth to say something - when you feel the same chord around your waist, tugging at you impatiently.

you look down and see thread. long, black thread.

you blink in shock.

“get up.” a voice snaps behind you, lodging itself at the base of your spine and making you stand clumsily. you try to turn, to confirm what you’re hearing with your eyes, but you’re pulled back - this time by an arm. it’s large and heavy and you let yourself be manhandled, still in shock. you’re walked backwards into an alley and find yourself pushed against brick - kakuzu looming over you. your hands are pressed into his chest awkwardly and you can feel your heartbeat pulsing frantically in your ears, making you dizzy.

“how did you -” you try but you’re cut off when he pushes his face closer to yours. he’s still covered, so you only have his eyes to look at - and the intense way he’s regarding you has your tummy twisting with knots.

he was angry.

“stupid little girl.” he snarls and you blink.

“i don’t -”

“you could have been killed.”

your brain stops and you inhale sharply.

“isn’t that the goal?” you whisper back, body trembling from the adrenaline, and kakuzu makes an inhuman noise that sends shivers down your spine. you’re still oddly not afraid of him - just confused. and once again, grateful. he’d saved your life ... for some reason.

“i will not have you damaged.” he growls, and you finally notice that he’s got his arms on either side of your head, trapping you against the wall. they’re uncovered and huge, muscles bulging around you - and you see stitches - holding his flesh together. the threads, you realize - the same ones that had pulled you from the street.

what was he?

“i didn’t know it mattered.” you respond and there’s another growl. this one you feel under your palms, from where your hands meet his chest. he’s covered in that cloak of his and you can tell it’s thick but - you can feel something, just underneath it. your gaze travels down, as you watch your hands twitch against him.

“idiot girl, you belong to me. do you think i’d let anything happen to you?”

the breath that leaves you is sharp, painful, and you flex your hands at his tone. there - you felt it again. you push harder into his cloak, emboldened by his words and the fact that he pulled you from the street. you would have been killed and he’d have your heart and it would all be over ... but it wasn’t.

thump.

you freeze and your head snaps up - meeting his cool gaze.

thump.

“you have a heart.” you whisper, and he pushes off the wall, away from you. you sag against the brick, the rough edges cutting into your skin and grounding you. he stares down at you for a moment before speaking, making your knees weak.

“i possess five.”

your mouth parts, wanting to ask more questions, but you’re silenced when thick thread comes to press against your mouth. it’s strong, resting in the middle of your lips and pressing down, silencing you completely.

“you will do well to remember this, girl. your death will come when it is time, not a moment before. and when that moment comes, i will be there to collect what is owed to me. until then - you will remain untouched.”

you blink, mind turning. you didn’t remember any of this in the contract, there was no mention of him saving you or preserving you, but you can’t argue. the thread against your mouth is unrelenting and you freeze when you feel another strand, curling around your neck. it was loose, soft, and rested against your pulse point.

you both stood in silence until you nodded, and something flashed across kakuzu’s eyes. he pulls his thread back and you inhale a breath, wanting to know more, but he was gone in an instant - leaving you alone and shaking - his words on a repeated loop in your brain.

#oooof this was kinda hard #kakuzu x reader #kakuzu x you #kakuzu prompts #only one more part to go whaaat?!#he’s so grouchy lmaoooo we love you grumpy old man!!

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mashep23 · 4 years

Text

Traffic Jam Session

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female!Reader

Word Count: +1.5K

Warnings: Nat being ridiculously confident and flirtatious? I think that deserves a warning. This is just pure self-indulgent fluff.

Summary: Stuck in a traffic jam, another commuter requests that you turn your music up

Inspired by this meet-cute prompt:

We are caught in an extreme traffic jam and have been sitting next to each other, parked, for the last five minutes. Your radio is playing my absolute favorite song so I ask you to turn it up. We spend the rest of the slow traffic aggressively singing along to the music at each other.

Prompt list found here

A/N: I tweaked the prompt just a little, hope it's still enjoyable. This was so much fun to write!

Thank you to @river-soul for her incredible beta skills and endless patience 😭❤️ and @whisperlullaby for workshopping with me 💗

Disclaimer: gif not mine

It's a decently warm day, sunny and clear, and the azure blue sky is dotted sparsely with clouds. A breeze blows through the car windows, playing with the feathers on your dreamcatcher hanging from the rearview mirror while you're stuck in traffic. You had been creeping along for the better part of 20 minutes, but you've been at a standstill now for almost five.

Typically one to drive home in silence to decompress, today the stillness and lack of road noise makes you want to turn on some music instead. Since nothing playing on the local stations feels right, you sync your car Bluetooth with your phone and scroll through your music streaming apps. A playlist you made simply entitled "Happy" seems to fit your mood and the gorgeous weather so you press Shuffle All and settle back in your seat.

The soothing, light-hearted Put Your Records On filters through the speakers and you can't help the smile that curves your lips as you close your eyes. Propping your arm on the window, head on your hand, you bask in the sun's warmth. You periodically crack open an eye to check on the car in front of you but there's no change. Everyone on the road has parked and resigned themselves to the long wait.

Your playlist contains a wide variety of genres, cherry-picked songs that unfailingly lift your mood. They're radio hits, usually well-known songs, and easy to sing along with. You happily bop your way through your playlist, getting a little more energetic, singing along to each song.

Walking on Sunshine just finishes and the next song is cueing when you hear a sweet voice ask lowly, "Do you mind turning it up a little?" You grin and twist the volume knob so I'm Gonna Be (500 miles) plays louder before looking to the eavesdropper that's enjoying your tunes.

Holy shit. How did you not notice the car next to you? There is no way they were there the whole time. They're all beautiful. Two men, two women - blondie is driving, two brunettes are in the back seat, and a redhead is in the passenger seat. She was the one that spoke and she grins gratefully, leaning closer, head tilted out the window. You turn it up a little more as she starts singing along.

You grin widely and start singing with her. Her companions in the car laugh and join in good naturedly, cheering as the two of you belt the call-and-answer part of the song.

When the song ends, you're both breathlessly laughing, smiles wide. You turn your stereo volume down even as the next song starts to play and stretch out for a high five. She gives your hand a satisfying slap as she laughs joyfully.

"That was so fun! Thank you so much, I love that song."

"I do too! You're a great partner! And the back-ups were awesome!" You playfully finger-gun point at the driver and backseat passengers. They cheerfully laugh and thank you. You don't remember the last time you smiled this hard.

"I'm glad you didn't mind - I could barely hear it. I had Steve try to get closer but that didn't really help much, so I just decided to ask you." She gives you a sheepish but pleased smile and you return it.

"Oh no I don't mind! I haven't had this much fun in ages!" You can't seem to stop smiling but maybe it's okay because she's smiling at you, too.

"I'm Nat," she says suddenly, and you don't hesitate to tell her your name. She repeats it quietly, still smiling softly at you.

There's a stretch of silence, you're both just looking at each other and one of her friends clear their throat, causing you both to blink. You think maybe you should be embarrassed but she doesn't appear fazed in the slightest.

"In the spirit of introductions, hello beautiful. I'm Sam." The male brunette sitting behind Nat says smoothly after his light cough. "This is Wanda, up there is Steve." He gestures to the woman beside him and to the driver, respectively.

Your gaze never leaves Nat. You can't tear your eyes from her even as Sam speaks, catching the quick tightness around the edges of her mouth before it relaxes again as you smile and respond to her rather than Sam.

"It's nice to meet you," you say sincerely to Nat. Her answering pleased expression as she returns the sentiment warms you. A pleasant tightness fills your chest as her lips quirk at something Sam mutters under his breath. The woman next to him, Wanda, laughs quietly.

"So, you know, we're gonna be here for a while. Let's see what else you got to listen to." Nat grins expectantly at you with a raised brow and you mirror her expression as you turn the knob.

You're pretty sure you've found your soulmate when her eyes spark in delight and she belts along effortlessly to Sweet Caroline, arms spreading dramatically as she almost nails the driver, Steve, in his face with the back of her hand. Sam and Wanda cackle as he shoves her arm away in mock affront and she sticks her tongue out at him.

You can't help but laugh at their antics, watching her perform, directing her friends' involvement ("bah, bah, bahh") before she turns to you ("so good, so good, so good!"). This is quickly becoming one of the best times you've ever had.

The song continues, both of you sharing the lead, absolutely ridiculous and uncaring of the scene you're making. If anyone in the surrounding cars felt disgruntled at the impromptu concert, you'd never know it. The girl in the car next to you has your undivided attention.

You're not sure how long it's been, how many songs you've played and sang along to, but after a while, traffic slowly creeps to life. Steve taps Nat on the arm during a lull between songs and you lower the volume as she turns to him. He gestures at the line of cars ahead, the ones directly in front still unmoving but in the distance you see brake lights releasing, vehicles rolling forward.

She turns back to you, chewing the inside of her lip as she looks at you thoughtfully. She seems to make a decision and reaches her hand out to you.

"Here, let me see your phone real quick." She makes a single gimme motion, fingers flicking closed then open as you hand the device over. Your lips spread into a wide smile at the triumphant look that crosses her face.

She beams at you before dropping her gaze to the phone, fingers moving quickly across the screen. You hear an unfamiliar notification tone and she pulls a phone from her lap, holding it up to show you.

"I text myself from your phone. Now we have each other's numbers. I wanna be able to call you later." She's unabashedly smug as she hands your phone back and you wonder if your face shows just how pleased you are.

You look down at the message thread she left open for you, the unsaved number displayed at the top.

"Traffic Jam Hottie 😍"

The single line of text and emoji sent from your phone to the number makes you bite your lip and shyly cover your smile with your fingertips. You look at her with raised eyebrows and she correctly interprets your unasked question and shrugs.

"That's your contact name. I'll probably never change it, not even after we get married."

It's sly and nonchalant, how she slips that in there, smooth as you please. Your jaw drops and her friends all seem to choke on air but her gaze, locked on you, is unwavering. The flirtatious expression on her face is simultaneously sincere and mischievous as she watches for your reaction.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, your chest feels tight and pleasantly warm. Your smile stretches so wide your cheeks hurt as she winks and you're so giddy, you don't care how eager you look in this moment.

You quickly save her contact information and smirk, wiggling your phone at her.

"I'd hope not. I think having matching contact info is pretty cute and kinda romantic. A fun story for the wedding toasts." You grin cheekily.

Her expression shifts, full of mischief, a quirk of her eyebrow that makes your breath hitch and sets your heart racing as her friends whoop with glee at your banter. Her lips spread in a sly smile and you can't help but return it. You're positive you've never smiled this much in your life.

Too soon, the gridlock lets up and you both start moving with traffic. The cars in front of you begin to roll, the lane speeds varying enough to cause you to separate. She's still grinning at you as they get further ahead. You can faintly hear their teasing and you catch a glimpse of her profile, smiling and laughing, before she's no longer visible.

They take an exit as you continue on and you barely have a moment to mourn that they're out of view before your phone vibrates in your lap. Picking it up, you grin madly at the screen, the contact "Traffic Jam Hottie 😍" scrolling across the top.

Accepting the call, you hear it connect through you car speakers, her friends still audible in the background. Your heart stutters when she purrs her greeting.

"Hey hottie."

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

Tagging some of my amazing discord family: @buckyownsmylife @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog

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tsukishumai · 3 years

Text

pairing; semi eita x reader

genre; angst

wc; 1.1k

a/n; inspired by this anon :’) this didn’t turn out how I wanted but I hope you like it anyway !

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The final chord blasted through the speakers of the stadium as Semi hung his head back, his sweat dripped down his forehead and his heavy breathing was drowned out by the roaring cheers from the stands. The crowd began to chant his name, and even though he couldn’t see past the stage lights, he smiled and he waved, blowing kisses out to whoever could catch them.

Semi could never accurately describe this feeling, even if he wanted to. Thousands of people from all different walks of life, coming together here for one singular reason — for him. To see him play the music he had poured his soul into, laced with his entire being. To sing back to him the words he had spent hours writing on a crumpled up notebook in a dimly lit hotel room.

The admiration. The validation. It was a better high than he could have ever imagined — a warm, prickling sensation that creeped out from his heart until it engulfed him in goosebumps.

He offered the audience a final bow, ending his show with a heartfelt speech of gratitude, and a promise to see them again soon.

Semi’s boots thudded on the vinyl floor as he ran off to stage right, paying no attention to the techs that rushed to dismantle the equipment. His band all exchanged congratulations for yet another show well done, laughing all the way back to the green room with Semi trailing silently behind them.

He could hear the crowd still buzzing after their electrifying performance, each person taking a piece of Semi’s spirit with them.

This was the final show of his third studio tour — the end of a months-long journey around the country, a new city nearly every night, a different sea of faces staring back at him.

This had been what he worked so hard for, through sweat and tears and hopeless nights and skipped meals. The days of praying to some unknown being with his hands clamped together and eye squeezed shut were long behind him, and the evidence of his plight had finally been vindicated by his billboards in Shibuya.

Yet as his makeup is wiped off and he sheds his stage clothing, Semi feels himself drained of any energy or enthusiasm that might have been left in his system.

The end of his tour was met with a mixture of relief and sadness, a bittersweet atmosphere collectively surrounding his entire crew. The label had treated them to a party in celebration, one that Semi spent in the corner scrolling through his phone. At the end of the party, Semi thanked everyone for their hard work, and sincerely wished for the opportunity to be able to work with them all again.

His flight back to his city had been a blur, the taxi ride back to his apartment even more so. He dragged his luggage disgracefully across the threshold, haphazardly taking off his shoes and tossing them in a dark corner.

Semi carelessly throws his keys on the kitchen counter, making his way to the fridge and grabbing the fresh cold beer that he had his assistant stock before he arrived back home.

He brings two bottles to save himself a trip, chugging nearly half of the first one before he even makes it to his couch. He sets the extra bottle down onto the coffee table, slipping his phone out of his pocket before plopping himself down on his couch.

He’s suddenly faced with a wave of messages — from unsaved numbers and tweets from fans. Mostly messages of congratulations, but he couldn’t be sure. His fingers moved past the red bubbles that contained triple digit notifications, clicking on Instagram instead.

Semi takes another long sip from his beer as he presses the tiny magnifying glass icon, taps on the search bar, and selects the very first user on his most recent searches.

There was a new post on your page, one that Semi hadn’t seen when he checked just before his flight. Suddenly, he feels a shortness to his breath, and his eyes stay frozen to the screen.

You were sitting on a blanket laid out in a meadow, surrounded by long, vibrantly green grass. You were dressed in yellow, and the smile on your face had radiated warmth and happiness.

Two young children that looked exactly like you sat on your lap, looking up at you as if you were their sun.

Semi imagines it were him behind the camera. That he was the one attempting to get your children to look his way, but they were just too enamored with the way you held them. He imagines the sound of your laughter as you rush him to take the picture, claiming you could no longer keep the babies still.

He deliberates if this would have been his life if he hadn’t left you in Miyagi. If he had just stayed when you had asked him not to go, instead of taking the first offer any label bothered to throw at him.

His house might have been smaller. His job might have been mediocre.

But would he have been sitting alone in the dark, nursing an empty bottle of beer as he stared at a family that didn’t belong to him?

He exchanges the empty bottle with his second beer.

He scrolls further down your page and states at the pictures he’d seen a hundred times before. He tries not to frown in disgust at how happy you looked with your husband.

He looks up from the screen, up at the plaques he has framed in the walls, and the awards lined up on his mantle — all proudly displaying SEMI EITA in beautiful, bold letters.

They stare back at him as if to mock him, and he wonders if this was really what he traded in his life with you for.

He takes another long, long swig.

Have you ever watched any of his shows? Do you know the Grammy he won was for a song he wrote about you? Was he just a passing thought to you now, a faded memory of someone that might have once been important in another era of your life?

His questions will never be answered, he knows.

So he scrolls until he reaches the end of your 234 posts, down to a picture he’s sure you had just forgotten to delete.

One of you beside him and his guitar, smiling down at each other with his lips frozen mid-melody.

The Semi Eita on his walls are only there because of the Semi Eita in this photograph, the one that was able to sit beside you as his one-person audience, clapping for him and cheering even though his guitar had been out of tune.

He closes his eyes as he finishes the last of his beer.

He wished that he told you that you were enough.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

rbs v appreciated <3

#hqcorenet #hanimehub #semi x reader #semi eita x reader #semi x you #semi eita x you #semi eita imagines #semi drabbles #semi eita drabble #semi angst #semi eita scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! scenarios

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kharonion · 3 months

Text

Pride is going to the club with your queen. 💅👑🌈

(yes, hi, don't perceive that I didn't upload this during Pride month--things happened a lot... but I still wanted to post this because I love them and am proud of this kajshdf)

#khar arts #au: charon molakis #au: gob verne #x: no unsavable souls #fallout au #returning to them a bit lately and i'm falling back in love with them ;;#shoving them together #squishing their cheeks #making them kiss 👀

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i-need-entertainment · 4 years

Text

Not Scary To Me Pt.2

Character: Washio x single mom reader

*I would highly recommend reading Pt.1 if you want this to make any sense*

Pt.1-Pt.3

TW- mentions of toxic relationships and divorce, sad times for my mans Washio, mutual pining

When you got there Komori and Suna were still tormenting Sakusa and Atsumu, Hinata had arrived and was talking with Meian and Tomas and Washio had started warming up with some of his other teammates. Bokuto had also arrived, something about his oven on fire? You spent the remainder of the hour getting paperwork and legal forms done, running back and forth between the main office and the gym.

When the match started you were finally at a point where you could do your work in one place, so you chose the gym. You loved watching the team play, for starters they were really good! And it brought back memories of when you used to watch Washio play. And he just so happened to be playing on the court right in front of your eyes. It brought back a lot of memories watching him play. While you were watching the game, you zoned out and went back to when the two of you were in your second year.

That game had been a particularly hard one. The whole team was struggling. Bokuto was long since in his emo mode, poor first year Akaashi was struggling to get him back up to speed and Washio was having an exceptionally hard time going against this third year spiker from another school. The game ended, and Fukurodani ended up losing…luckily it wasn’t an important game, really just a practice match, but it was the first game with the new starting line up so mistakes were bound to happen.

After the coaches gave their input/advice and the players were dismissed, Washio made his way into a secluded hallway and sat down at one of the benches. He was blaming himself, you knew he was as soon as the game ended. You quickly went up to Konoha, asking if he knew where he was. He didn’t know his friends exact location but he knew the general direction so you thanked him and went on your way.

When you finally found him he was bent over with his elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands. Without saying anything you had knelt down in front of him, asking him to look at you. When he did, and you saw tears in his charcoal gray eyes it took every nerve in your body to will yourself from crying. And you weren’t even the one that lost! You were quick to pull him into a hug, your resolve almost cracking when you felt his arms weakly surround you before gripping onto you tightly.

That was the night you knew, you just knew you had fallen in love with him. But with everything going on with Ken, and school you pushed the thought aside. But now, years later watching him play again, you can feel those feelings resurface. Except now you have Emiko to think about…

”WATCH OUT!”

Your head shot up and you let out a squeak as you ducked, narrowly missing a ball that was headed straight for your face. Washio hurriedly made his way over to you, much to the satisfaction of his teammates. “Are you okay?” You shot him a smile as you fixed your hair and what not. “I’m alright, I got plenty of practice in high school.” You gave him a cheeky smile as he dead panned, a tint of pink traveling across his face. “I only hit you with one once.”

You laughed before you heard a ‘oops, my bad’ from who you remembered to be Suna, looking over you saw him and Komori were smirking at something. Shooting the two a glare Washio retrieved the ball and made his way over to the court, getting a nice slap on the back from Komori and a ‘nice’ from Suna. You couldn’t contain the dorky smile on your face, shaking your head as you got back to work. When it came time for a water break, the teams retreated to their respective sides of the gym.

“So, ya got the hots for their middle blocker huh?” You looked up from handing the team their water bottles to give Atsumu a glare. “Shut up Atsumu. We were friends in high school, we hadn’t seen each other till today.” Atsumu nodded, his mouth forming an ‘oh’. “But, you do still like him, right?” You stilled at that as you quickly looked to Bokuto, Hinata slapping a hand over his mouth. “Don’t say it out loud!” You see, during one of your outings with the boys, they had asked you about your past, Bokuto telling the story of you and Washio. Or rather the ‘almost love story’ as he called it.

Of course, none of them could be bothered to tell you he was on EJP. (They purposefully told Bokuto to come in late so he couldn’t spoil the secret. Hinata was in charge of him :0) Bokuto looked at you strangely before looking at Washio and back at you. “But if he feels the same way what’s the problem? Plus that jerk isn’t there anymore”. You crossed your arms over your chest and sighed, “It’s a little more complicated than that…” he continued to look confused until Sakusa smacked him upside the head.

“Don’t be so simpleminded. There’s a lot of things they both need to consider. Especially with Emiko involved.” Bokuto got it then, even if the situation still made him scratch his head sometimes. The game ended with MSBY winning 3-2, but both teams played well. “Tatsuki!” The middle blocker turned to see you walking over to him. He took one last drink of his water bottle and dried his face with his towel before turning to face you.

“Yeah?” she looked down before looking back to him, “Would you like to join Emiko and I for dinner? I just went to see her, and she was adamant ‘Mr. Washio’ came too. It’s okay if you can’t but..” He smiled and shook his head “I’d love to, just tell me when and where.” Your smile was almost blinding at this point, and to Washio it was a nice breath of fresh air. “Okay! I’ll text you the details~ I’ve gotta go, I’ll see you later?” Washio nodded his head. “See you, Y/n.”

With one last wave she walked out of the gym and headed towards her home, after picking up little Emiko of course. Washio went back to the locker room, showered and got changed into some casual clothes (during all of which he was choosing to ignore the smirks his two younger teammates were giving him.). *bzz bzz* he looked at his phone to see a text from an unsaved number.

Y/n: Hey Tatsuki! This is Y/n. Our address is xxx xxxx St. Go ahead and come around 5:30! Can’t wait to see you

He smiled at that last part, ‘can’t wait to see you either, Y/n.’

Tatsuki: I’ll be there, I’m looking forward to it :)

It was 5:13 so he exited the stadium (after telling off his nosey juniors) and made his way to the address you had sent him. You however, were not as calm. Currently you were running around the kitchen, mixing and chopping things left and right. You looked at the time ‘5:13, okay, it’s fine, this is all fine! I have time…’ You set the timer on the oven and rushed upstairs, checking in on Emiko to make sure she was fine, and taking a quick shower. Now for the hard part…what to wear.

On one hand you were home and didn’t really want to, or need to but on the other hand the man you’ve been in love with for a good 8 years was coming to your house for dinner so…a nice sweater and overpriced leggings it is. ‘okay…it’s 5:24 so he’ll probably-‘ Your thoughts were cut short when you heard knocking at the front door. Quickly focusing your thoughts, you rushed downstairs before checking the peephole

**ALWAYS CHECK THE PEEPHOLE/WINDOW BEFORE YOU EVER OPEN A DOOR IT IS WORTH IT. USE A DOOR CHAIN OR SOMETHING TOO IT IS WORTH THE EXTRA FEW SECONDS!!***

and opening the door when you saw it was him. “Tatsuki! Come in!” he thanked you and walked in, removing his shoes as you led him inside. “Emiko! Mr. Washio’s here!” Looking up the stairs you heard little footsteps before you saw a small head pop out from her play room. She then made her way down the stairs and over to Washio, giving his leg a little hug before she sat down on the rug in the living room. “Dinners almost ready, you can have a seat in the living room if you want.”

He nodded, “Do you need help with anything, don’t say no if you do I don’t mind.” You just smiled, you never could stop him from helping you. “Well, if you insist I could use some help.” The two of you moved into the kitchen, you pulling dinner out of the oven and him, with your direction of course, getting out the plates and such. “Hey Tatsuki?” he turned to look at you, “Yes?” “Could you help me get this bowl? I can’t reach it.” He just nodded before he reached up and grabbed it, unintentionally flexing his muscles which were nicely defined by the navy blue button down he was wearing.

Averting your gaze and releasing a small ‘thank you’ you quickly resumed your previous task hoping he wouldn’t catch onto your embarrassment. “Emiko, dinner’s ready” The little girl happily made her way to the table, lifting her arms to be set in her booster seat. Setting the plates and dinner onto the table, you sat across from Emiko while Washio took the seat at the head of the table. ‘Just like a family…’

You quickly shook your head and tried to push the thought out of your head. But as the dinner went on, it kept feeling more and more normal, more and more domestic. And you were feeling…really really happy. Fulfilled. As soon as she finished her dinner, Emiko lifted her arms, her usual signal to be let out of her chair. But instead of turning to you like she usually would, she looked at Washio. “Up!” you looked at her, “Oops, up, please!” She gave him the cutest smile as her little arms reached above her head. Washio thought his soul was going to leave his body.

Breaking himself free of his thoughts he nodded his head as he stood up, helped the little girl down from her chair and almost cried when she hugged his leg and said “Thanks Washio!” Before you could even scold her for being informal, you saw the look of pure joy on his face when he sat down. “Y’know…you must be really special if she asked you to do that, and if she hugged you.” Washio looked over to you with a confused expression, “What do you mean?” You sighed as you placed your elbow on the table and your face on your palm, eyes drifting to where your little Emiko was playing with Bunny.

“She’s usually painfully shy, I’m lucky to get her to talk to anyone other than family, let alone kids her age.” You then turned your gaze to look at him instead, his dark eyes moving to meet yours. “It means a lot if you two just met and she’s already infatuated with you. It means a lot to me too…” The rest of the evening was spent by the two of you catching up on what’s been going on in your lives for the past 5 years. It was about eight now, Washio didn’t have a specific time he needed to go since they were allowed to head back to Hiroshima whenever since today was Thursday and he didn’t have to work tomorrow.

(Suna and Komori convinced the coach to give them the next day off, they gotta help their mans Washio!!) And since the two of you were having so much fun, he figured he could stand to stay a bit longer. “I’m gonna put Emiko to bed, I should be down in about 15 minutes.” You told him as you picked up the sleepy toddler. “Say goodnight, Emiko.” The little girl sleepily smiled at him before lightly waving “Goodnight Washio” before she returned her head to her mother’s shoulder.

You got her changed into her PJ’s, read her a story, and got her tucked in when “Mommy?” You paused from turning off her light, “Yes honey?” she seemed to squirm a bit. “Will I get to see Washio again? I heard you say he lived far a way…” You gave her a smile, “Yes baby, you’ll see him again.” Your daughter than put on a sleepy little smile and closed her eyes, “That’s good…night mommy.” You turned off her light and cracked the door shut, you left it open so your cat, Kitty, could get in if he so pleased and cuddle with her. “Goodnight Emiko, I love you.” You heard a drowsy, ‘love you too’ before you left to go back downstairs.

When you came back down to the living room, you saw Washio hang up on a phone call. “Sorry I should have made sure before hand, but, do you have a ride home? It’s getting late..” he looked at you and you could have sworn he looked flustered but you let it go. He sighed before explaining the call was from his teammates, letting him know they were leaving him and to come home whenever since they had the weekend off. “Well, do you want to stay here? We have a spare bedroom and my brother left some clothes here…” He opened his mouth, probably to refuse but before he could you cut him off, “It’s no problem, really! I took the day tomorrow to spend with Emiko and I know she’d love it if you came along so, really it’s no problem.”

You gave him ‘the look’, which just so happened to be the same ‘look’ you gave him in high school when you wanted something, knowing he couldn’t say no. “Thank you…tonight’s been really nice.” You couldn’t help the flutter his words put in your heart, choosing to channel them into a shy smile. “Me too…” Not wanting this to turn into an awkward silence you clapped your hands together. “Alright. Since you’re going to stay here, you can help me with the dishes.” Chuckling a bit he nodded his head, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and rolling the dark blue sleeves up to his elbows. (Tell me I’m not the only one who just diEd)

The two of you made your way to the kitchen sink. Being a middle blocker he was keen and observant, and having dealt with Bokuto’s mood swings, he was also keen and observant of people and their reactions. To be clear; he was very much aware of the way you couldn’t stop looking at his arms, it had been intentional after all. After knowing him for so long and seeing the mischievous glint in his eye and the small smile he had stuck to his face, you caught on that he was probably teasing you. ‘Two can play at that game.’

You inwardly smirked as you took off your sweater, revealing the tank top you had been wearing underneath (idk if you wear tank tops under your stuff bUT THIS AIN’T THAT TYPE OF STORY So you did). Turning around you lightly laughed when you saw how pink his face had gotten. “I didn’t know this was a competition” His face held a playful smirk as he joined you at the sink. Your expression matched his as you started washing and he dried. “It wasn’t until I won~”

He shook his head but couldn’t shake the smile that had formed a permanent residence on his face since he had re-connected with you. After the dishes were done, with only a *little* splashing each other with the water, you two retired to the couch and continued your chat. It was about 10 when you decided it was a good idea to get to bed him, having played an intense game earlier in the day, agreed. You gave him some sweatpants and a shirt to wear, which were a bit snug since he was quite a bit bigger than your older brother, but he accepted them gratefully.

After making sure everything was in order you shut off all the lights and showed him to the guest bedroom. “Goodnight Tatsuki and thank you for visiting…it’s been really nice. I hope we get to do it more often.” You said this as you gave him a hug, one he of course returned. “Thank you for having me…it means a lot…Goodnight Y/n” You nodded as you both separated, you giving him a small wave as you retreated into your bedroom shutting the door and turning off your light before getting into bed.

#washio x reader #washio x y/n #washio tatsuki #y/n #Haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #haikyuufanfiction

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wackapedia · 4 years

Text

Vante Cappuccino

Taehyung x reader

Jimin and Jungkook buys you the Vante Cappuccino and it tastes...

wc: 1.1k

"Jimin!" A voice from your left whisper-yells toward your direction. You look up from your exam paper to glance to your classmate on your left. He wears a frantic confused face, donning a 'wtf' expression and motions for you to call this 'Jimin' who was seated next to you. You do so by discretely tapping on his shoulder, earning you a flirtatious smile from 'Jimin'. You direct him to the other guy on your left. "The fuck is a Blaise Pascal?!" He asks, wide-eyed and confused, whisper-yelling. "Hell if I know!" Jimin whispers back. "He's the founder of those probability theories..." You butt in, careful not to get caught by the TA playing Candy Crush up in front. "Oh.." The two immediately returned to writing on their sheets, for real this time as they were pretending to write a few moments ago. After the exam, the two trouble-makers catch you in the hallway. They were whispering among themselves, plotting some sort of shenanigans. "Hey! L/n, right?" Not Jimin blocks your way with his gym rat physique, smiling like Snowball the bunny from The Secret Life Of Pets. "y-yes?" You nervously back off, afraid to have caused trouble even when you've done absolutely nothing. "We wanted to thank you for the tip earlier at the exam. We're still failing, but at least its a Sixty out of 100 instead of a zero." Jimin pipes in, boosting himself away from the wall he was leaning. "O-oh its fine, really, its not a big deal-" "IT IS!" Snowball yells. "You risked getting caught by TA Jung!" "Kook, focus." Jimin's tiny hand smacks Snowball's arm. "We're heading to that cafe down the street. Wanna come with? We're buying!" Jimin offers you. "Actually, I have to study-" "Great! Lets go!" Snowball's heavy arm lands on your shoulder, pulling you out of the college building. ------ You learn that Snowball's name is actually Jungkook, and that he, Jimin, and this Taehyung guy who works at the cafe, have been friends since diapers. The whole conversation on the way to the cafe was mainly centered on Taehyung. They mention him majoring in art, plays a lot of online games, is passionate about working as a barista while hating coffee, and owns a black Pomeranian dog named Yeontan. You do nothing but nod along to them, wondering why you're presented with this information. You arrive at the empty cafe, inhaling the smell of fresh coffee beans. Jimin and Jungkook seem to be regulars here as they greet the broad-shouldered manager posing by the window. "Yah, Jin-hyung what are you doing?" Jungkook asks. "I'm modelling. We need more customers and I'm sure this pretty face will bring in more patrons!" Manager Jin laughs peculiarly. "Taehyung-ah! Your finest coffee, please!" Jimin announces to the boy behind the counter who you assume to be Taehyung. His brown hair falls over his forehead, dark eyes gleam with excitement upon seeing his friends. His boxy smile grows wider upon hearing Jungkook mess with the manager. "Taehyung, This is y/n. Y/n, this is Taehyung. Taehyung, y/n wants to try your Vante cappuccino. Me and Kook are having iced matcha." Jimin quickly lets out, sliding his card to Taehyung who excitedly punches the order in. "Vante cappuccino is Taehyung's own creation. Wait, you drink coffee, right?" Jimin discretely asks you, while Taehyung busies himself making the drinks. "Uh.. yeah I tolerate it, I guess?" You answered. "Great!" Jimin motions for you to sit at the wooden seats in the middle of the cafe. Jimin continues to talk about how Taehyung puts his entire heart and soul in a coffee cup, which is apparently the secret recipe to Vante cappuccino. You wonder why Jimin and Jungkook are always talking about Taehyung as if he's running for president. There's something very off about them, you decide. Jungkook joins you minutes later, still talking about how Taehyung was an excellent student in middle school. They also mention that he's currently single for at least six times in the conversation. Your orders finally arrive and along with it came the man himself, discarding his apron to sit next to you. "Hello, I'm Taehyung." He politely introduces himself after setting the tray on the wooden desk. You introduce yourself to him, reaching over to shake his hand. Jimin and Jungkook exchange a weird look. Jungkook hands you the famous Vante cappuccino and excitedly asks you to taste it. Due to Jimin hyping up the beverage, your expectations are now incredibly high. Lifting the cup up to your lips, the three excitedly wait for your judgement. And it was... disappointing. You tried to keep your disappointed look from showing, and by the looks of it, you're doing it well. "I've never tasted anything like this before..." You say. Technically it wasn't a lie because what even was in this coffee? Motor oil? Swamp water? "Its good, right?" Jimin mischievously smiles. He knows. You nod in agreement while slurping the rest of the contents of the coffee cup, trying to push it straight down your throat for it not to linger on your taste buds, making sure not to offend Taehyung. Soon enough, the cup as been emptied. Jungkook offers you another one but you politely decline. You decide its time for you to leave. You thank them for the company and promise to see them around campus soon. Taehyung puts on his apron to continue his shift. Jimin nudges Jungkook after being left together on the table. "She's the one." Jimin says. "The one what..?" "She said Vante cappuccino was good even if it tastes like shit" Jimin whispers, careful not to let Taehyung overhear. "She's the one for our Tae." "What makes you say that?" Jungkook questions. "Vante cappuccino is the absolute worst liquid Ive ever tasted in my life, I had to pretend I hate coffee just for Taehyung to not be offended. But y/n? She took it like a soldier and even said it was good." Jimin says, gesturing wildly. "So..?" Jungkook still doesnt get it. "So that means, she wont break our Taetae's heart. I mean, she barely knows him, sure but she cares. Did you see the way she looks at him?" Jimin continues. "Dude, the last time you did this, Jisoo literally yeeted the cup away and we had to make it look like an accident. I can't believe you risked it again." Jungkook sighs. "You ungrateful shit. Someday you're gonna thank me for this!" Jimin scoffs jokingly at Jungkook. Taehyung passes by, stopping to listen to join in the conversation. "You too!" Jimin points a finger at Taehyung who was donning a confused expression, leaning his face on the mop handle he was holding while wearing a sad puppy expression. The trio were disturbed by a ding! of a cellphone. Taehyung plucks his out of his pocket to read a text from an unsaved number. "Hi! Its me y/n. Jimin gave me your number I hope you dont mind! :)" "Y/n texted me.." Taehyung mumbles. Jimin and Jungkook quickly gets up from their seats, knocking them over to the floor while shouting and high-fiving each other in celebration.

#jimin #jungkook #taehyung #taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x reader #bts x reader #bts #taehyung fluff #barista taehyung #coffeeshop au #i didnt reread this lmao #but im about to

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theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

Alone in the Ashes {15}

A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfction, characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Modern au. Revolves around Nesta x Cassian, Feyre x Rhysand, and Elain x Azriel. Other characters appear throughout. Based on multiple prompts sent in by anons tbr below.

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click > Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: Sorry it took a few extra hours - the chapter was too short so I had to decide what I wanted to add in from chapter 16! Enjoy~

Comment to tell me what you think, or to be tagged! x

“We accept the love we think we deserve.” - Stephen Chbosky, the Perks of Being a Wallflower

Cassian couldn't think straight.

That anger, that motherfucking anger, was creeping up on him.

Tomas.

The bastard that sure as hell wasn't good enough for Nesta, was staring at her like she was a piece of meat, a prize to be won. Cassian wanted to hit that look right off his face.

“Aren’t you the guy that moved in across the hall from her?”

He was drinking a beer and had been ignoring Cassian until now.

Cassian gave him a short nod.

“What, you two friends now?” Tomas asked, looking back at Nesta. “I thought you hated him. Said he was annoying as fuck.”

Nesta ignored his question, his comment. She asked, quietly, “Where the hell have you been?”

Cassian stilled. The fact that she still cared made him nauseous. Maybe he was in the wrong, but he thought Nesta had forgotten about Tomas long ago. Thought he had helped her forget about Tomas a long time ago.

“Adriata,” he said, shrugging. “Went along the Coast. Surfed.”

“You just fucking left,” Nesta gritted out. “Without saying anything because I hurt your fucking pride.”

Cassian had taken her home that night, when Tomas had abandoned her at the nightclub.

“Needed some time away,” he said, simply, and smiled.

Nesta wouldn't look at Cassian.

He had yet to touch his whiskey.

“Did you miss me?” Tomas asked.

Nesta looked at Cassian, then she turned her back to them both.

He couldn’t tell what was going through her mind, didn't want to know what was going through her mind. If he knew, his anger would only grow.

He kept watching Tomas.

“What time do you get off?” Tomas asked, continuing his interrogation.

“Late,” Nesta answered.

“I’ll wait,” he said, grinning.

Nesta looked over her shoulder at him, then at Cassian. Her eyes were hard, unreadable. She didn’t tell him to fuck off, didn’t tell him to go to hell. Instead, she said, “I’m on break. Be back in five.”

She left, leaving Cassian to stare, dumbfounded, after her. Before Tomas could say anything more, Cassian tossed some cash next to his untouched drink and made his way into the alley, where Nesta was standing, leaning against the wall, lighting a cigarette.

Unsurprised by him storming in, Nesta didn’t bother to look up at him as he stopped in front of her.

“What the fuck?” he asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, voice monotone.

Cassian shook his head. Maybe he’d gotten everything all wrong, read the signs all wrong. All the time they had spent together the last few weeks - maybe it was just for sex, something to fill the void for her after Tomas left.

Maybe now that he was back, she had no need for Cassian anymore.

He raked a hand through his hair, calming himself. “Are you coming over when you get off?”

Nesta looked tired. “I don’t know.”

“Because Tomas will be waiting for you?” he asked, before he could think twice about it.

Her eyes narrowed. “Fuck off, Cass.”

He shook his head, laughing, humorlessly. “What am I to you?”

She didn’t answer.

“I asked you a question,” he said, voice low.

Nesta blew smoke into his face. “I don’t owe you an answer, so fuck off.”

Cassian took a step back, feeling as if he’d just been slapped. “Alright. Fine.”

He started walking away, back toward the sidewalk, where he stopped. “I’ll leave my door open, when you get off. If you don’t show up, I’ll take the hint.”

Nesta said nothing.

Cassian walked away.

He found his bike, the one he’d finished that morning, near the other side of the building before strapping on his helmet and speeding away.

That anger, that fucking anger, crept into his mind, into his soul, and he couldn’t control it. They were doing so well, getting along so perfectly, until that fucker waltzed in, pretending like nothing ever happened. Cassian remembered the first day he’d met Nesta, when Tomas was there, and she was a fucking mess. High on Mother-knows-what, hungover, depressed. Now he was back, and Nesta shut down, pretended like Cassian no longer existed. And he had thought that things had changed, that she and him were starting to…

Unimportant.

It was unimportant, didn’t matter anymore.

Maybe she was just surprised, thrown off by Tomas’s unexpected presence.

Cassian tried to push the anger away.

He would go home and do what he said he would - leave the door unlocked, wait like a pathetic jackass who felt too strongly for a woman like Nesta Archeron.

So that’s what he did.

And just after midnight, he heard low voices outside of his apartment. Drunk on whiskey, he opened his door, and found Tomas stumbling into Nesta’s apartment.

He met Nesta’s gaze, but it was like looking into a never ending abyss. Empty. Dead. An endless void.

She watched him, though. Watched his eyes go wide, then harden. Watched his jaw lock as he shook his head. “Hint taken,” he slurred. “Fuck you, N-Nesta.”

She didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate, didn’t act like the words affected her at all. But she watched him, those empty, stormy blue eyes - watched as he took a step back and slammed his door shut.

That anger returned, rising at an uncontrollable speed.

He threw his glass, still holding a thin layer of whiskey, against the wall in his living room, where it exploded into shards of glass, dark, caramel colored liquid raining down the ivory wall.

“Fuck!” he yelled, and Bryaxis was instantly up from his bed, following his master down the hall.

Cassian stomped into his bedroom and tossed himself onto his mattress where Bryaxis instantly was, knowing his father was having an episode, knowing he couldn’t control the anger, that hated anger.

The pup pulled himself over Cassian’s abdomen, laying his chin on Cassian’s chest, paws outstretched. Cassian closed his eyes, told himself to breathe.

That anger lingered, even as he calmed, but Cassian told himself that it was all his fault.

He had started to fall in love with her.

And no good ever came from falling for a woman like Nesta Archeron.

~~~~~

Rhysand awoke to his bed creaking, just after midnight.

Feyre had hurried out of the room, down the hall. He heard the bathroom door shut.

He picked up his phone off the nightstand and opened his messages, where he had missed five texts after falling asleep early.

Three were from Cassian.

Feyre’s sister is a bitch.

Whiskey is good. I like whiskey.

Where the fuck are you and Az you little lovesick fuckers.

Rhys made a mental, uncertain note to give Cassian a call in the morning.

The next text was from Azriel. It was a picture of Mila, who was wearing the new pink Batman pajamas Rhysand had ordered her online. Beneath the picture read, Mila has been jumping across all the furniture all night, pretending to be Batgirl. At one point, she body slammed me. It was all fun and games until I got kneed in the balls.

Rhysand huffed a laugh, pulling up the last text that was from an unsaved number. Your ring is in. You can pick it up at your earliest convenience.

He quickly deleted the message as Feyre swept back into the room, bare body outlined in the dark, starlit room.

“Sorry,” she whispered, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay,” he said, watching her climb across the bed to him. “Cassian was having a drunken, mental breakdown, it seems.”

He put his phone back on the nightstand as she asked, “Because of Nesta?”

“Seems so,” Rhysand muttered, as Feyre fell back against the pillows. He climbed over her body, and her arms wrapped around his waist. “Who knows.”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “I won’t be getting in the middle of that mess.”

Rhysand chuckled, kissing her, softly. “Go back to sleep.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, hands wandering down to his ass. “Sleep.”

“You’re going to be tired for work in the morning,” he murmured.

Feyre huffed a laugh, pushing his wild hair off of his forehead. “I’m okay with that.”

With a grin, Rhysand pressed his mouth to Feyre’s, his tongue sliding between her lips to brush alongside her own.

One last night of peace, one last night before Rhysand woke up the next morning, kissed Feyre goodbye, and got ready for himself to leave the house. Because after Feyre left in the morning, he would be going to see Tamlin.

And, it seems, he had a ring to pick up.

~~~~~

“It’s getting late,” Elain whispered, glancing at the clock.

“Yeah,” Azriel agreed, quietly.

They had been lying awake for hours, talking about everything and nothing and all things in between. Now, he could see the exhaustion sweeping over her.

“Get some sleep,” he said, smiling.

But Elain didn’t smile back. Her palm rested against his cheek, her thumb brushing over his open lips. Azriel’s own smile faded at her touch.

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

Azriel didn’t have to be told twice. He leaned in closer, pulled her to him by her waist, and pressed his lips against hers. Elain fell back against his bed, and he hovered over her, careful not to put too much of his weight on her.

Her delicate hands swept down his back, under the hem of his shirt. Her hands were warm against his skin as they crept up. Chills swept down his spine.

Elain tugged at the fabric, and Azriel leaned back, pulled his shirt over his head, and tossed it onto the floor.

Elain pushed against his chest, a silent plea for him to lay down, and when he did, she straddled his waist. Those delicate fingers trailed over his chest, his abdomen. Her brown eyes were bright as slipped off her sweatshirt, and her tanktop.

“Elain,” Azriel hesitated, his entire body reacting beneath her. “We don’t have to-”

“I want to,” she said, laughing quietly. She took his hands and put them against her body. Azriel’s hands swept up her stomach, to her breasts. His fingers brushed over the outline of her bra, careful not to catch the lace on his rough, calloused fingertips. She leaned down into him, lips crashing into lips.

Azriel had been so patient. Had taken things slow.

It was easy to take things slow with Elain. She was easy to talk to, easy to be gentle with. But in that moment, Azriel was done being gentle. His body ached for anything but gentleness.

He unhooked her bra, and she let him slide it down her arms and palm her breasts. Azriel flipped her onto her back, smile bright as she looked up at him. Azriel pressed his lips, softly, against her abdomen, and she held onto the back of his head as those feather-like kisses trailed up, tongue sweeping over her nipples, lips finding the base of her neck.

Elain’s eyes fluttered shut as she breathed, heavily, as she inched down Azriel’s shorts with her fingertips.

A soft growl escaped him as his lips found hers, once again.

“Elain.” He whispered her name between the whirlwind of kisses, but was unable to say anything more, because a loud knock came to his bedroom door.

“Uncle Az!” Mila’s little voice came through the door.

Azriel froze, then sighed, his head falling against her chest, between her breasts. Elain, unable to help herself, laughed quietly.

“It’s okay,” she whispered.

With a groan, Azriel pulled himself off of her and hopped off the bed, pulling his shorts back up to his hips. “I’ll be right back.”

She nodded, smiling fondly as she pulled his blanket up over her body.

Azriel stopped at the door, trying to collect himself as Mila knocked, again.

“Okay,” he breathed, and opened his bedroom door to find a teary-eyed four year old, clutching her blanket.

He frowned, shutting his door quietly behind him. “What’s wrong?”

She reached her arms up, and Azriel gathered her into his arms as he carried her back into her room.

She laid her messy-haired head against his shoulder.

“Bad dream,” she said, yawning, as Azriel sat on the edge of her bed with her on his lap. “Those men took mama away and she was crying.”

Azriel blew out a long, slow breath. It was impossible, trying to find a way to tell Mila what was happening without telling her that her mom was a horrible woman. Yes, he hated Amarantha, but he wouldn’t let his view of Amarantha cloud Mila’s.

“It was just a dream,” he said, quietly. “Your mama is okay in there. And she loves you and she misses you, okay?”

Mila yawned, nodding, slowly.

“Let’s get you back to sleep,” Azriel murmured, laying Mila down and tucking her in tight. “Don’t want to be tired for preschool in the morning. I love you.”

“Love you,” Mila said, eyes already closed. He patted her back, gently, until her breathing evened out; then, he backed out of her room, slowly and quietly, until he was back across the hall, sneaking into his own bedroom.

Where Elain was sound asleep.

“Ah, fuck,” he muttered, laying down on the other side of his bed.

It took him a longass time to fall asleep.

And when morning came, and he stumbled into the kitchen, Mor was already sitting at the table, grinning with a cup of coffee.

“May I help you?” he mumbled, pulling open the fridge for some orange juice.

“Took you a long time to open your door for Mila in the middle of the night,” she said, sipping from her mug.

Azriel shut the door and spun around, exasperated. “You were awake? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Mor shrugged. “She wanted you, not me. Now, what did she interrupt?”

“Nothing,” Azriel muttered. “Didn’t have a chance to….nevermind. I’ve got to run to the store to get a few things before I head to Elain’s dad’s to finish up. Mind taking Mila to school for me?”

“I’d be honored,” she said, winking.

Azriel took the orange juice into his bedroom and got dressed. He had pulled on a hat over his messy hair when Elain woke up.

She smiled sleepily at him.

“Good morning,” he said, quietly.

“Good morning,” she repeated. “Sorry about last night.”

Azriel smiled. “Don’t be. It was late. I’ll be done around noon. Can I come get you for your lunch?”

“Please do,” she smiled, and he kissed her forehead before walking out.

Mor’s grin followed him until he was out the door.

~~~~~

After Feyre left, Rhysand had run to Tamlin’s office, but he wasn’t in, yet, and wouldn’t be until ten. So, he drove down the strip until he came upon a little, local jewelry shop.

He was welcomed by the owner, an elderly man, who was smiling broadly behind the counter.

“I see you got my message.”

Rhysand smiled. “Couldn’t wait. Can I see it?”

The owner went to the back of the shop and came back with a little black velvet box. He handed it to Rhysand, who opened it with shaking fingers.

It was perfect.

Simple, he couldn’t afford too much, but he knew she would like it. A thin, rose gold band with a small, pear-shaped diamond.

“I can make the first payment today,” Rhysand said, closing the lid. “I can take it with me today, though, right? Even if it’s not paid in full?”

“Of course,” the man smiled.

Rhysand slipped the ring into his pocket before making his payment, thanking the owner, and leaving. He wasn’t sure when he’d ask, but he figured he would know when the moment felt right.

All he knew was that he was in love with Feyre. He had always been in love with Feyre. There was no one else he would want to ask to spend the rest of his life with him.

As he got into his car, he pushed the idea into the back of his mind and put the ring into his glove box.

At nearly ten, he was driving back down the strip, until he was parked in front of Tamlin’s father’s building, where Tamlin got a job for simply being his father’s son.

Rhysand didn’t wait. He got out of his car and walked into the building, heading straight for the elevators.

He rode up to the twelfth floor, where the receptionist greeted him with a smile. “I told Mr. Lewis you stopped by. He said to send you in when you come back.”

Rhysand nodded his thanks and went through the winding halls until he was in front of Tamlin’s office door. He didn’t bother knocking.

Tamlin looked up, one brow raised, as Rhysand entered and sat in one of the armchairs on the other side of his desk.

For a moment, neither of them talked.

“Gad to see you’re healing,” Tamlin said, with a small, snarky smile. “Not surprised to see you coming to my office. Can’t get your ass kicked here.”

Rhysand shook his head. “I came here to talk to you like a fucking man. We’re not in high school, Tamlin. I’m not like you. I don’t go around looking for trouble like a fucked up teenager.”

Tamlin’s pride wasn’t hurt. That smile remained as he cocked his head. “I liked when Feyre came to my apartment the other day. How very chivalrous of her. Reminded me of simpler times, when she warmed my bed, not yours.”

“Don’t talk to me about Feyre,” Rhysand said, trying not to let the words bother him. “It’s sad, really, how your need to make her miserable has come this far.”

Tamlin’s smile faded. “I love her. All I do is for her.”

“That’s bullshit,” Rhysand said, shaking his head. “Feyre loves me, and you cannot stand that you lost her. When, in reality, it’s all your fault. You pushed her away with your pride, your incessant need to be in charge of everything, her included. And now that she’s finally happy, you can’t stand it. Because it’s me, the person you hate the most, who is making her happy.”

Tamlin didn’t move. He watched Rhysand with a deadly calm, one that Rhys matched as he propped his elbows on the armrests and leaned forward.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Rhysand went on. “I never was, and I never will be, but Feyre doesn’t deserve to live with you constantly looming over her shoulder, so you will back the fuck off.”

Tamlin, to Rhysand’s surprise, grinned. “She’ll come back to me, no matter what I do. She was with me for almost a decade. She’s with you now because you were around, and she was lonely.”

The words struck a nerve as Rhysand’s worst nightmare was voiced by his greatest foe.

But he didn’t let it show. “Will you still be saying that when Feyre becomes my wife? Because she will. Soon. I’ve got a ring, I plan to propose, and you’ll be the first person I tell when she says yes.”

Tamlin was up from his desk and storming around the corner where Rhysand met him, on his feet.

“Ask her to marry you and you’ll be looking worse on your wedding day than you do right now,” Tamlin spat.

He jabbed Rhysand in his broken ribs, and the pain was excruciating, but Rhysand was ready, this time. Rhysand elbowed Tamlin in the jaw before pushing him back onto his desk and holding him down by his throat. His laptop fell off, along with a giant stack of - what Rhysand assumed - important documents.

“You’ll leave us alone,” Rhysand said, gritting through the pain that shot through his body. “You forget that I know you, Tamlin, that I’ve known you for your entire life. If you want to keep the glamorous life you have, your dad’s money, you’ll leave us the fuck alone. If you ever cared for Feyre, you’ll leave us the fuck alone. And, if you don’t, I will personally destroy you. So leave us. The fuck. Alone.”

Rhysand slammed Tamlin’s head back into his desk one last time, for good measure, before storming out.

Tamlin didn’t come after him.

~~~~~

tag List (to be tagged, comment or send me an ask!)

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @starkovsnesta @redisriding @photofeesh

@mariamuses @tswaney17 @amaranthas-whore @awesomelena555

@danika-defendyr @rachaels14 @faequeenaelin @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn

@hashtolanashoba @poisonous00 @chemicha @samotita

@mynewdreamwasyou @humming-asong

@candid-confetti @awkward-avocado-s

@my-fan-side @queen-of-glass @stars-falling

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@morebooks-pls @kindofawalkingpoem

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@halstudies @sleeping-and-books @alwayss-reading

@amren-courtofdreams @b00kworm

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@regular-nessian-trash

@ugh-avila @awkward-avocado-s

@superspiritfestival @the-dark-swan @girlgotattitude448 @eversincebeirut

@midnightrose-reader @lord-douglas-the-third @thestarguidingyouhome

@empress-ofbloodshed @starkovsnesta

Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction #nessian #feysand #elriel #modern au

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qweeby · 4 years

Text

Nine Lives To Short Part 2: A Hero Confronts the Hypothetical

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡💔💔

Paring: Hitoshi x Reader

Genre: Angst

Tag @foxypuppy

Plot: You only have 9 days to tell him how you feel....but maybe 9 days just isn't enough

"Please be ok please be ok!" that plea kept replaying in the mind of Histoshi Shinsou as he is sitting in the waiting room of the hospital.

He thinks about your soft touch, your sweet voice and your unforgettable laugh as tears stream down his eyes his voice breaking "please be ok....please..."

The entire room is quiet....tap tap tap tap is the only thing that can be heard and its coming from Shinsou as his left leg is violent shaking.

"Shinsou....?"

The entrance to the waiting room opens it's Kaminari and Mr. Aizawa, Denki rushes to Shinsou then begins to pat him down, patting his face and chest "YOU'RE OK RIGHT NOTHING IS BROKEN RIGHT!"

Shinsou brushes Kaminari off, " I'm fine it's not me you should me worried about....it's y/n she's the one in real pain".

Aizawa puts his hand ontop of Shinsou head rubbing his hair making it messy. "Yeah but that doesn't mean you aren't hurting to kid... it's ok to cry it won't make you any less of a hero.

Shinsou looks down " I just need to see her".

Kaminari sits next to Shinsou asking "How long have you been here, Hitoshi?

"About 5 an hours, after I ran Y/n to her parents and they called the ambulance, we came here and the doctor said that the parents can come with them but friends and other relatives were to stay here".

Suddenly Hitoshi sees your parents walking down are walking down the hall he jumps up quickly and makes his way towards them in a panic.

" Is y/n ok! What happened to her! C-can I see her please!" Hitoshi is frantically blurting out all of the questions that been on his mind of the pass 5 hours until your dad stops him.

"Woah woah calm down there Hitoshi, Y/n is fine she just need rest we actually came out here so we can take you home".

Shinsou tenses up shocked that after all that waiting he's just going home with seeing you.

He was not gonna let that happen.

" Home?...... HOME! THERE NO WAY IM GOING BACK HOME AND I DONT HAVE A CHANCE TO SEE IF Y/N IS DOING OK! I-....I have to see for myself.

Aizawa steps up, " Last time I checked Recovery girl was sent here to help Y/n with her injuries so she should be up"

Kaminari holds up his hand trying to put his two cents in " Plus he's been waiting 5 whole hours".

Your mom hangs her head "Yes that is true but....y/n is gonna need more than just kiss to feel better".

Your father begins to sweat as Shinsou glares him with anger in his eyes, everyone in the room begins the feel Shinsou's uneasiness.

"Let me ask you a question sir".

Your father gulps "Yes, Hitoshi?".

His pupils begin to dilate as Shinsou uses his quirk and asks the question " What's happening with your daughter".

Kaminari quickly grabs Shinsou pulling him back, " Dude! Are you crazy you can go around using your quirk on people!".

" IM NOT GONNA STAND HERE WHY THEY LEAVE ME IN THE DARK! I NEED ANSWERS!"

" Y/n's quirk....is hurting her shmmh-" before your dad can finish his sentence Aizawa stares at Shinsou erasing his quirk while simultaneously your mom covers your dad's mouth.

" Hitoshi! Control yourself Now"

Hitoshi shoves Kaminari back as her runs pass the three adults to y/n's room.

" Wait Toshi! You...don't even know where her room is...".

Aizawa sighs " Leave him Kaminari, right now I'm gonna need you to step outside" he angrily glares at your mother and father "I need to a meeting with some parents".

Meanwhile Hitoshi is running though the hallway is he searching for your room " Where is it..HA! Found it!.

Hitoshi kicks open your the hospital door.

" Y/N!" You jump and scream " AHHHH! What the HELL HITOSHI YOU CAN'T DO THAT WHAT IF YOU BROKE IT".

Right now all Shinsou wants to do is to hug you and hold you and never let you go but...

He just stands there and yells.

"You're such a God Damn lair!"

"...who told you-".

" APPARENTLY NOT YOU! WHEN THE HELL DID YOU GET S QUIRK FROM! HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN HURTING YOU?!"

You sit up and take a beep breath, "My quirk developed last week I didn't know how I was gonna tell you".

" LAST WEEK!? THEN THAT MEANS.....t-that means..."

-Hitoshi thinks back to last week after school when he was training with Aizawa-

" Hey Mr. Aizawa Hey hey" you eagerly jump around the tired teacher circling him. " What is it now kid?"

" Can you use your quirk on me?"

Shinsou spits out his water " ppppfffft why would he do that it literally won't do anything".

You turn to Shinsou pouting " yeahh but sero says when that when you get you quirk erase it's like your soul leaves you body".

Shinsou squints his eyes at you " I think Sero was high when he told you that".

Aizawa rubs his eyes and grunts.

"Ugh! Fine come here kid but after this I don't wanna hear anything come out of you mouth until we are done training".

You nod while standing still as Mr. Aizawa uses his quirk on you but no it looks like nothing happened.

Hitoshi chuckles " See told you it would work" he looks at you and see the look of utter disappointment and defeat. " What's with the face cat?"

" I was just really hoping that something....anything would happen but...oh well".

You smack you face as you give Shinsou a big thumbs up " You gotta ge back to training-mmmpfh-!"

Aizawa wraps you up his his cloth like a mummy and gives you to Present Mic

"Here Hizashi here hold the kid"

" YOU GOT IT SHO!"

Shinsou could help but laugh at the whole situation while you freak out the Mic's arms.

-He then thinks about how you acting at lunch during that same day-

" Hey Y/n you not gonna eat?" Kaminari askes while shoving fish sticks in his mouth.

"Oh umm I'm not really hungry"

"You aren't? But I haven't seen you eat anything all day are you sure?"

"Yeah Hitoshi I'm ok".

Bakugo the reaches across the table to get in your face " HUHHH THE LITTLE KITTY DOSEN'T WANNA EATTTT? I BET IF CAT BOY OVER HERE FED YOU, YOU WOULD EAT IT ALL UP!"

You and Bakugo clash foreheads.

" SHUT UP YOU FERAL POMERANIAN"

"GRRRR....THE FUCK YOU JUST CALL ME YOU QUIRKLESS LOSER!".

Kirishima walks to the table smiling simultaneously as he sits down saying "Man it looks like it's raining cats and dogs over here".

" SHUT YOUR TRAP YOU POINTY TEETH DIMWIT!" You Bakugo scream at Kirishima at the same time then go back to arguing with each other " STOP COPYING ME!".

Shinsou watches as you don't eat anything but shrugs it off as you going on a diet.

Hitoshi falls to his knees shaking, his voice breaking.

" THAT FUCKING QUESTION WASN'T JUST A HYPOTHETICAL WAS IT!"

You get off your bed as you sit in front of him, "No it wasn't ".

"I so fucking stupid Y/n..."

You slow reach your hand to grab Hitoshi "No...don't say that..."

"But it's true! Can't you see!

Shinsou raises his head looking at you his eyes bloodshot red, see him like that startled you , so you back up but then hes says something that made you hate yourself.

"....How can I ever be a hero if I can't even save one person...I'm so weak"

Tears begin to fall down your eyes seeing your best crumble apart by your actions, you jump into Shinsou's arms crying repeatedly saying " I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry".

You feel bad for Shinsou as he may have come across one of the most hardiest trail of being a hero.

How can a hero save someone that doesn't wanna be saved....

You and Hitoshi press forehead's and stare at one other but then...you look at Hitoshi but his face begin so switch between blurry and not until everything is completely blurry in your left eye.

"S-shinsou..."

He sniffs and rubs his nose, " Yeah y/n".

"I....I can't see"....

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡💔💔

Y/n has lost her 2nd life as another day draws near. Jow can Shinsou save the unsaveable? Will y/n ever confess in time and end her suffering.....will y/n's eye sight be the only thing she loses?.... 9 days won't be enough

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #y/n #kaminari denki #shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi #bnha angst #angst #bnha shinso hitoshi #shinsou x y/n #shinsou x you #shinso x reader #x reader #mha xreader

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godsofmonster · 5 years

Text

Bangtan MC ≽ I.

Reader x Bangtan- Motorcycle Club

Word Count- 7.9k

Warnings- sexual content, death, murder, guns, drugs, violence, betrayal, mentions of suicide, mentions of rape, etc.

For as long as I can remember back, I always wanted to be in a motorcycle club. Since I was six years old, the only thing on my mind was getting my hands on a Harley and a cut. I was a wolf, a wild cur, cut from the pack with bloodstained on my fur. Every wrong has marked a debt because a beaten dog never forgets.

The outline of the green bus threatened to leave me behind. I increased my pace, my toes cursing every stride I took in these pinching heels. The engine of the bus began to roar, black smoke coming from its muffler, as the wheels began to turn. The leather briefcase in my grip struck against my knee as my motions became desperate. Even as I called out in a senseless attempt to catch the vehicle, I remained there along a busy street in Seattle, defeated.

I let out a grunt from the cage of my clenched teeth. A twitch bugged my eyebrow in frustration as I pulled out my phone and worked to endure the idea of taking an Uber home. I could quite literally see the forming clouds above me, shunning any kind of sunlight that the midday had to offer. After spending the majority of the night before slumped over my desk and sitting the entire morning through a briefing, I was more than ready to kick someone’s head in.

After fidgeting with a buffering app, finally typing in my address, the screen was ripped away by the caller ID of an unsaved number.

The phone vibrated in my palm while I stared at the area code. An entirely different sentiment engulfed me completely. The 530 number from Northern California brought an uncomfortable weight in my chest and a hollow ring in my ears.

There was an extensive hesitation on my part, a ball of it, caught in the dryness of my throat. There was only one soul in California that bothered to call. He did once in a year or so, mostly around my birthday. However, this number was different. I watched it ring a few more times as I continued to ponder. Possibly a new number?

I sighed and answered it all the same.

"Dad?"

I questioned.

However, I was met with a far more tormenting voice. One that only cursed me in my worst dreams. It had been years since his voice had settled upon my ears and suddenly I was 18 years old again, shivering at his sound.

I was left fruitless, shaken, and unable to move. My entire mind was wiped clean, left with a blank set of notes. No concept, no words, not a single pitch came from my lips.

He simply spoke in my ear,

"Come home, (Y/n)."

Then the line went dead.

That's all it took, that's all I needed to hear, to know that something terrible had happened. As I began to run home, the skies over me began to weep.

It was painless, effortless, to just drop everything and leave. It was as simple as breathing. Brushing through the door of the apartment complex, passing through the rooms, with not a single personal attachment to hold me back.

My bedroom was a color scheme of white and gray, only the most fundamental of furniture and details. This never became my home.

As I changed into a clean set of clothes, dark jeans, a plain t-shirt, and dumped my heels for boots; there was nothing that I was leaving behind. I grabbed my double rider jacket off of the hook and fished the keys to my Harley and my 23 out of the drawer. I slammed the door shut and never looked back.

Walking through the basement of the apartment building, I found myself raging through so many thoughts that my mind was practically meaningless. I was so aware that all of my worries were the wrong kind. I should have been outraged about my father, why it was that he didn't call me himself.

He hadn't bothered speaking to me since my aunt, who I had been living with, passed away six months ago. She was the only thing I cared about in this city and without her, there was nothing left for me here.

Instead of being furious with him, instead of calling him and demanding answers, I pounced the second I had the chance to come home. I didn't care about anything else. Though, that's how seven years in exile left me, pitiful, and crawling back. Rather than being angry at my father, agitated at the thought of seeing him after so long, my mind was only set on him.

His voice replayed in my head like a record and the way he said my name was a lukewarm echo. And the worse part of it all?

I unveiled the gray tarp off of my Softail Harley. The tooled leather was like velvet under the cooling lights of the garage.

And the worse part of it all is that I would have an entire eight hours to myself. Just me, the road, and my bike with Kim Namjoon's call leading me home to Blackburn California.

"Pass me the wrench, will ya?"

I eyed the floor that was covered in bike limbs and oil. I scavenged for the instrument he needed and found it under a lost tire. Whistling for his attention as he turned around just in time to catch the wrench in his hand. I smiled as my dad kneeled on the floor beside his old Fatboy. I walked up behind him and watched him work underneath me. My hand rested on the letters sewn into the back of his leather cut.

The top rocker read 'Bangtan' across the back. The center patch showed the opening doors of Bangtan, along with the MC cube. And the bottom rocker, the territory that we claimed, 'California'. A cut signified much more than just a leather vest- it meant you were someone important. For my father, who was the founder and active president of the charter, it meant absolutely everything.

"What's the matter with it? The clutch?"I asked, squinting my eyes and looking over his work. I reached into my back pocket and pulled out a square from my case of Marlboro.

"Yeah." He sighed and stood back to his feet. "The clutch plates are probably locked together."

"Well, what do you expect?" I chuckled with the cigarette placed between my lips. "You've had this Fatboy sitting in the bar for two years like some statue. Poor thing is neglected."

This was the first bike he ever bought with his own money. It was a 1990 Fatboy, cherry red- a true beauty. He turned around to eye me, except that his eyes fell down to the smoke in my mouth. I cupped my hands over the flame I used to light the end and raised a brow at his stare. He reached over to seize the cigarette from my mouth.

"What the hell did I tell you about smoking?" He said, holding the square in front of me.

"That you didn't care?" I reminded him with a smile. He stared at me for another moment, attempting to do his best impression of a scolding parent but ultimately broke into a sneer.

"I didn't care as long as I didn't see it." He corrected me and placed the cigarette into his own lips. I humorously rolled my eyes as he turned back to his baby. "This is what we're going to do,"

He said while mounting the bike with his feet planted to the floor. "I'm going to put the bike in gear and pull in the clutch lever. Now if I roll the bike back and forth the plates should come unstuck."

"Do you want me to get some heat in that oil and see if it'll help loosen things back up?" I asked.

Although, before my dad could answer, the engine of another motorcycle roared into the garage behind the bar. The light of a Street500 Harley blinded me momentarily. My father moved off of his bike while I walked out of the incoming Harley's way. I had a pretty good idea of who it was anyhow.

He thrust down his kickstand and removed his black helmet to reveal his bleached undercut.

"I was hoping you were still here, old man." He laughed, stepping off his bike and making his way toward my dad.

"Something wrong with it, Namjoon?" He suggested. With a rag, he wiped his hands clean from any grease as Namjoon put an arm around his shoulder. I cut my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest.

"It's not running well with the choke on." He explained. I watched as my father and he walked up to his bike to get a closer look. "It stalls when I turn the choke off and when I turn the throttle."

"It's probably because you left it parked in the garage for two months without draining the gas," I said coldly.

Namjoon turned to look at me as I walked but beside them, taking a look for myself. I could feel his cold stare on me as I inspected his bike.

"I think she's right, Joon." My dad said, patting his shoulder. I smirked and shot Namjoon a glare. I placed my hands on my hips, waiting for my father to tell him to fix it himself. "(Y/n) will get started on it in the morning."

"What!?" I hissed in disbelief. My eyes darted from my fathers to Namjoons, who wore a returning smirk on his face. I could feel my face heat with rage. "That will take hours! I have to drain the old gas, change the spark plugs, replace the air filter, and clean the clogged carburetors!"

"Well, now that you've graduated you'll have plenty of time on your hands' sweetheart," Namjoon said as my dad took a drag of my cigarette and agreed.

I could kill him.

I could not believe my father would have me working on Namjoon's bike. What kind of man can't even fix his own Harley? The thought made me sick. I knew how to change the oil on a Harley since I was six years old! Before I could even think to say another word against the idea, the door extending from the bar opened abruptly.

"Hey! I've been calling you." I saw another cut walk in that belonged to Seokjin. He and the current prospect, Yoongi, gathered around my father.

"What is it?" He asked. I could hear it in their voices, something must have happened for them to come looking for him at such a late hour.

"The mayor is here... he wants to speak with you," Yoongi said in a hushed tone.

I automatically knew that Namjoon and I were going to be dismissed. Any club business could not be discussed in front of nonmembers. Immediately, I tried to create an excuse to dismiss ourselves from the situation.

"I'll follow you home Namjoon," I called out catching everyone's attention. "I'll get started on your bike in the morning."

He simply nodded his head, knowing as well as I did, that this was not our place. Namjoon moved to get on his bike while I gathered my stuff from the counter behind me.

"Actually," My father suddenly spoke up. Both of us paused to see who he was referring too. "You can stay, Namjoon. It's time you learn a thing or two."

My father barely spared me a glance as he continued, "Prospect, follow (Y/n) and make sure she gets home."

"No problem." He responded. I could feel the color rise to my face as tears threatened to brim my eyes. There was an ache in my chest that could only be explained as heartbreak.

It was memories like those that flooded my mind, swarming my thoughts like a plague, and they haunted me all the way home.

For as long as I can remember back, I always wanted to be in a motorcycle club. Since I was five years old, the only thing on my mind was getting my hands on a leather cut and a Harley. For me, being in a motorcycle club was better than being the Queen of England. From the first time that I wandered into the clubhouse behind my father's bar- I knew I had to be a part of them. I knew that I had found the place where I belonged. Bangtan was like nobody else, they did what they wanted- when they wanted. No one ever stopped them or told them otherwise. It was being a part of something much bigger than yourself. It meant being somebody in a town full of nobodies. With my father as president, I knew everyone, and everyone knew me. I thought myself the most fortunate of girls.

But I was young, I was naive, I didn't know just how unfair the world could be.

The night had fallen deep. The roads deserted from creation. The air flowed differently down here, with no restraints, liberating. It felt real in my lungs. Seven years of my life had slipped through my hands and as I passed the sign welcoming me home, I could not recognize the world around me.

Welcome to Blackburn

Where Blood is Thicker

I rode through the empty town, the distant memories of my adolescence whispering within the wind. Recurring nightmares had brought me back through these routes time and time again. Straight from my bones, deep from inside, a fantasy of total catastrophe. They were nightmares I loved to hate because the hopeless endeavor was better than having nothing at all.

The street lights followed me all the way home. Turning into Ivory Lane, at the very end of the street, is where my youth was left behind. Undeniably the finest, largest, house in the neighborhood. As I pulled up to the front, there was light pouring from each window, the long driveway held 15 Harleys and five cars. A full house and a party I would surely crash.

Removing my helmet and parking my bike, I subconsciously began to pace toward the front door. It was like I was in another one of my dreams, not knowing what I was doing, nor what was waiting for me on the other side. By every step, I felt more lost and at home at the same time. Everything was the same and yet nothing felt familiar. Like a lost spirit, I simply opened the door and let myself in.

The door opened into the large foyer, where stairs circled around the left and a hallway led me deeper into the house. I stepped noiselessly, past my father's study and the dining room, following the disembodied voices coming from beyond. The warm light of the house made me feel senseless, not understanding what exactly I was walking into.

I found myself at an impasse, deep in the house, where the kitchen was in the room to my left and the living room to my right. It felt like I was in a stranger’s house with voices I did not recognize. It was all so unreal. Choosing to explore the living room I stepped to the right.

I found people scattered around in multiple conversations, no one who stood out in particular. I looked for any sign of a familiar face. The room smelled of alcohol and tobacco. Not a soul had noticed me walk in, it looked like a small gathering, not any kind of celebration. There was rock music playing softly in the background of the people's voices. There were women and their children and older men who I did not know. It looked to be just a few hang-arounds, outsiders that were friendly with the club.

My eyes scattered around the room, not knowing what to think. If I should stay- if I should go? I didn't know what I was doing here anymore. That was until my eyes landed on a group at the far end of the room.

Then, Namjoon was the only thing I could see.

I stared at him as he sat gathered between other guys. His black eyes switched from person to person as they spoke to him. He wore his cut and fiddled with his knuckles. His hair, that he used to bleach and cut himself, was now its natural black color and styled to the sides. He looked like a grown-up, far from the person that I remembered.

It felt like I stared at him for hours but it wasn't long before he felt my stare and found me for himself. His eyes dropped dramatically, changing. from a look of focus into one that was shaken. All of his attention was fixed on me and I could feel the weight of the room fall on my shoulders.

I spent the last seven years thinking about what I would say to him. What he would have to say to me. Except I felt frozen in place as he rose to his feet.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

A voice cursed behind me. Her tongue caught the attention of everyone in the room. Their eyes began to watch me intently while their whispers of curiosity filled the air.

I shuffled to the side, turning to see both her and Namjoon. I became trapped between them on either side, with a crowd of strangers in front of me, like a jury.

The girl that they knew would have never had the courage to stand here in front of everyone. The girl that they knew would have never come back but I wasn't that girl anymore. I wasn't 18 years old and everything I wanted to say then- I would say it to them now.

"This is my house." I reminded her.

Jaeeun scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Her hair was a thick, black bob, with a single streak of white, that framed the side of her face. She always wore dark clothing, black and berry colors mostly. And around her neck was a black diamond necklace she was never seen without. The years had been kind to her, she looked like she always did. The wicked stepmother who stayed young forever.

"This hasn't been your home for a long time, sweetheart." She shook her head at me. Jaeeun's stare was as cold as ever, black eyes that looked like a cryptic abyss and fine aging lines cut into her pale skin.

"Mom," Namjoon cut in, reinserting himself into this situation. He walked between us, facing his mother and attempting to keep her calm as he assured her that, "I called her."

Jaeeun's arms came uncrossed at his words. It felt strange as if Namjoon was somehow defending me. She looked at him in disbelief, the frustration becoming more pronounced on her face, as Namjoon spoke. "She has a right to know."

The seriousness of his voice was alarming, my eyes turned to look at him but I didn't find any answers from his avoiding gaze. Jaeeun's eyes were fixed on him. The conversation quickly became an argument between only them two.

"A right to know and a right to be here- are two entirely different things, Namjoon." Jaeeun raised her voice. Her entire demeanor seemed overwhelmed as she placed her hand over her forehead. Namjoon took notice as well as he stepped to lend her a hand but she exploded. "You could have told me!"

Her voice cracked and tears slipped from her eyes. Entirely caught off guard, I didn't know what to do, I had never seen Jaeeun break down. Namjoon sought to console her by laying a hand on her shoulder but she forced him away. "Like I don't have enough shit going on already!"

I could tell that she was embarrassed to be crying in front of people. It wasn't until a friend of hers came up behind her for comfort. I could only watch as she eased Jaeeun onto a nearby chair where she could relax.

The room fell silent as everyone remained still while Jaeeun regained her composure. I was caught up in my own agenda to care about anything else. Everything just tasted wrong.

"Namjoon," I called for him. He left his mother's side and joined me under the archway of the living room. I caught a glance at Jaeeun's glare as he left but I ignored it and spoke in a low voice. He leaned in to avoid our conversation falling to her ears. I sighed. "What am I doing here?"

"For fuck sake, Namjoon." Jaeeun breathed. She held a cigarette between her lips as her friend beside her brought a lighter. Namjoon cursed under his breath. "You haven't even told her yet?"

"Told me what?" I didn't intend to raise my voice. The anticipation was causing terrible ideas to flow through my head.

Suddenly Namjoon took a hold of my hand, the touch alarming me further, as he stared at me sympathetically. I shook my head and yanked my hand from his touch. My heart began to beat in my ears as I stepped back from him.

"No..."

I said trying to remove the terrible thought from my head.

"I'm so sorry, (Y/n)."

He said, stepping closer.

"No!"

I yelled.

A weight came tumbling down on me, like the burden of the world, I felt as if my night terrors had crawled into my reality. My head was consumed by the pressure of news. My skin frosted with chills as I stumbled out of the room.

Bumping into strangers, I abruptly felt cornered as they stared at me with pity. I couldn't seem to retain any form of air in my lungs, every breath came out of my mouth like a cry for help. My house became a real horror scene, and my only impulse was to leave.

"Let her go! That's all she's good at..."

I pushed through the people behind me, stepping as quickly as my feet would allow. I ran through the way I came in, all the way to the front door with tears trailing behind me. My vision was clouded with the pain that emptied my chest.

The night breeze crystalized the stain my tears left. My body trembled in a mixture of numbness and despair. The door opened behind me and footsteps simulated my own.

"(Y/n), wait."

He followed me down the brick driveway, only intercepting me when I stopped to mount my bike. I ignored his call and avoided his stare. I was fiddling with the strap of my helmet when I saw his foot land on my footrest.

"You took the eight-hour ride here? You've got to be exhausted." He stated.

I felt a rush of rage boil my blood, a result of years of repressed anger. I looked at him from underneath my hair and said in an imminent tone.

"Get your foot off my bike."

Namjoon stood his ground and only released his hold on my bike as a sign of good faith. Except, he continued to hold me in his stare, his eyes a mirror reflection of his mother's. I sighed and looked away in defeat.

"How did it happen?" I asked.

That was the question I feared the most. No matter what the answer was- I wasn't here. I couldn't even recollect the last words we had spoken to each other.

"He was riding on the US-50..." It was hard for him to look into my watering orbs. Namjoon shifted his eyes to the floor, his black hair brushing against his forehead. "He collided with a semi-truck."

My arms rested on the fuel tank of my bike, burying my face from his sight, as I continued to break down. I pressed the tears from my eyes, the droplets tapping against the cold metal, as soft cries left my mouth.

I couldn't get the image out of my head, it replayed, once after another. My imagination created the sound of the impact. The black crows of the desert that flocked away as a result. The bloody aftermath plastered on the bumper of the semi-truck.

"I loved him too... He was my father too, (Y/n)." Namjoon spoke with pure sincerity. But all I could do was shake my head and dismiss his truth.

"But he wasn't," I threw my helmet on the floor and stood off my bike. With the little force I could work up, my hands pressed against the leather cut and shoved his chest, causing him to trip over his feet. "He was mine!"

"He practically raised me- taught me what it meant to be a man." He explained, visibly hurt by my comment. It sickened me to hear him give my old man such credit.

"He was barely a father." I spat.

"Yes! He was complicated." He admitted, taking a step back and lifting his hands in defeat. He used his dominant hand to push his hair out of his frame, licking his lips in apprehension. "But he was smart and he always did what he thought was right."

I crossed my arms over my chest and refused to praise him for another minute. Namjoon sighed from his nose, taking a slow pace toward me as I continued to look away. The space between us became less and less until I could feel his body heat radiating on me. I resisted his tempting stare but he managed to make me melt at his touch. He took my chin in his fingers and guided me to his eyes. "Those complications killed him, (Y/n). That's why he let the road take him."

"What are you saying?" I snapped a look at him, removing Namjoon's hand from my face. "You think my father killed himself?"

"It's the only explanation." He simply declared. As if the answer was so simple. "The driver of the truck said that he just came out of nowhere."

"Bangtans don't kill themselves-" I was ridiculed by his words, finding it hard to accept that he would believe them himself.

"Don't worry." He hushed me. "No one else knows... I wouldn't let him get stripped of his patch."

He obviously did, nevertheless. Namjoon was ready to pull me in and wrap his arms over my shoulders. He embraced me with pity as if I was in denial about the situation. There wasn't much that I was sure about in my life, not a lot was stable. However, my fathers' courage, his willingness to keep moving ahead was unparalleled. It was the soldier in him.

“You’re not listening to me!" Once again, I pushed him away from me. "He would never do that. For someone who claims to have loved him so much you know very little.”

"(Y/n)," Namjoon said softly, he looked entirely exhausted. It was the first time I was actually analyzing his exterior. He displayed bags under his eyes and his skin was drained of color. “You don’t know what it's been like these past few years.”

His words left a larger impression on me than I would have expected. He was right. I didn't know anything about him, my father, or the club in the past seven years.

I was an idiot to have spent so many years dreaming of coming home. I thought I was lost before, that this was the place where everything would make sense. Now I feel more lost than ever. Nothing felt familiar here in Blackburn, everyone was a stranger.

"Come on," Namjoon called my way. His mouth dusted the most gentle of smiles as he waved me over with his hand. "Let's go back inside."

"Are you sure?" Using the back of my hands, I cleaned my face, from the horror I could only imagine. "I think Jaeeun still wants me dead."

He smiled, revealing a pair of dimples that cursed him as a child forever. He knew, as well as I did, that I was only half-serious.

"I'll handle my mother." He assured me.

I followed behind him, catching up to his side as we walked together up the driveway. I took a moment to examine his clothes. He wore black jeans and a cloudy blue button-up under his leather cut. He also had a bowie knife tucked into a sheath that was clipped to his pocket. And even though I couldn't see it, I would bet my life on him also carrying a handgun hidden under his shirt.

"Oh," He stopped us right before the front door. His facial expression winced as he remembered something. "No one… knows why you actually left. People think you just ran away."

He explained, presuming that the news would bother me. However, I didn't expect any less from Jaeeun.

"Of course they do,"

Namjoon led me to the leather couch in the middle of the living room. The set was surrounded by strangers and a glass coffee table. I sat to the very edge of the couch, crossing my leg over the other, in an effort to take up as little space as possible. I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to relax.

"Namjoon." A voice called for him across the room. I didn't need to turn around to know it was club business and Namjoon looked at me apologetically. I assured him that I would be fine.

He caressed my shoulder before vanishing behind the couch. My hands ran up my lap, feeling the texture of the denim under my hands, as I questioned what to do with myself. I peered down my body and adjusted the sleeves on my jacket.

"You want some coffee, doll?" I was slightly surprised by the silky voice. Standing over me was a young woman, younger than me, with a fresh coffee pot in her hand.

"Oh! Uh..." I quickly looked down at the glass coffee table before me. There were some clean mugs resting upside down, beside jars of cream and sugar. "Yeah, sure."

Instantly, I bent over to reach for the nearest mug at the same moment she did.

"I got it." She promised. However, in a second of panic, my hand already bumped against hers and tipped the mug over.

The glass hitting against glass made me uneasy and embarrassed as a few heads turned in our direction. I cursed under my sigh and removed my hands from creating any more chaos. I could only push my hair out of my face and behind my ears as I apologized.

Without glancing my way, she reassured me that it was fine. I watched as she poured the steaming brown liquid into the mug. She set the pot to the side and reached for the jar of cream.

"Black is fine."

She nodded and handed me the mug with a brief smile. I held it between both of my palms, the heat almost being painful, and I thanked her as she stepped away.

I brought the steam close to my nose, shutting my eyes and breathing in deeply, awaiting the aroma to keep me conscious.

"You have to let them do that for you." Jaeeun's voice spoke from behind. My eyes fluttered open to see her stepping around me. I followed her figure carefully as she took the seat next to me. "It's how they show you respect."

I scoffed to myself. Jaeeun looked better composed than before. That's how she operated, though. There was no time for crying, feeling sorry for yourself, none of that mattered when people depended on you. I figured that was admirable.

"Why does it matter? That respect is only because of my father, not me." Jaeeun smirked and agreed. "Everyone thinks I ran away nevertheless. Not much respect in that."

She could hear the bitterness that lingered in my mouth. My poor attitude annoyed her.

"Oh, cry me a river, sweetheart." She cursed under her breath.

"How do you do it, Jae?" I cut her off sharply. Turning my body to face hers without intimidation. "How-How do you keep all the lies intact? All the secrets buried?"

She lifts her eyebrow, almost amused by my anger. I asked, "Aren't you tired?"

Jaeeun cut eye contact with me and took in a long breath as she worked to remain unbothered. I watched her fix her hair as a distraction, loathing to realize that my judgment struck a nerve. Yet, she swiftly regained her confidence and even dared to lean in close to me.

"For my family?" She prompted. Her black eyes staring almost past me as her mouth dropped into a dead frown. "Never."

Without another word, she rose from her place and left me alone once again. I stared down into the black coffee, just barely making out my reflection before bringing the rim up to my lips. Being a forgotten memory in this town hurt me more than I wanted to admit.

"(Y/n)." My head turned, my eyes pursuing across the room, where I spotted Namjoon by the entrance. His hand singled me over through the blurred crowd of people.

I abandoned the coffee on the table and made my way into the lake of bodies. As I walked down my path, the faces turned to see me coming and one by one, they parted the road. Not even a graze came in contact with my shoulder while I approached his awaiting figure. I pressed near him as the masses allowed me too.

"Are you okay?"

Jaeeun must have left a sour expression on my face, he seemed concerned as he read my eyes. He even dared to reach his hand out to cup my face in some sort of aid, but I was ready to stir it away, a little vigorously.

"I'm fine," I said rigidly. Namjoon took notice of my discomfort, my cold behavior, and so he stepped back to proffer me space.

"Uh," He cleared his throat. I scanned him up and down, as the awkwardness spread in his demeanor. "He wanted to say hello."

My brows furrowed, confused as to what he was saying. Yet, I followed in his eyes as they led me out into the hall. I sensed his presence as he lingered behind me, his footsteps slower than my own. The lonely hallway almost suggested a trap, as I turned the corner around the staircase, I found no such thing. Assembled in the foyer were a group of leather cuts. With their backs turned to me, I could not make out any of their faces. The heavy noise of my footsteps rang over their conversation and they turned in my direction.

"(Y/n)!"

I gasped. Shocked, completely caught off guard, to see a familiar face. With nothing but a smile, his arms came wrapping around me.

"Jimin." I laughed, shocked at the years gone by without having spoken his name.

It was the first time that someone's face brought me memories that were worth reliving. My high school years were only significant because of him. I didn't know it at the time but he was my best friend. The reminiscences of a simpler time threatened my eyes with tears.

When he pulled away, I almost could not classify the man before me. But there was no one else that could mimic that smile, his eyes disappeared and his teeth took the spotlight.

"I-I can't believe it's you." I smiled. His hands rested on my shoulders as he inspected me from head to toe. "When did you patch in?"

"I requested a prospect about two years after you left." He explained. Jimin took a step back and pushed his hair out of his face. I used to poke fun at the fat on his cheeks but I couldn't now. He looked great, from his tight jeans to sharp jawline, I was genuinely appalled. "We both did, actually."

Jimin moved aside to reveal the standing figure behind him. "You remember Taehyung, don't you?"

He stepped out of the shadow, the light overhead casting contours on his face, another image far from what I remembered. But his strong brows and long-lasting eyes haven't changed. He licked his lips at me and shot a polite smile.

"Y-Yeah, of course." Shuttering lightly, I figured that we didn't know each other well enough to hug. He wore a bandana tied around his forehead that heaved his brown locks. "I see you finally stopped dying your hair red."

"It was the only way they would let me prospect." He chuckled.

I didn't know him as well as I knew Jimin, even though they were always together, the conversations between us just never went anywhere. It didn't surprise me in the slightest to see him in a cut. Bangtan was seemingly the only topic we could discuss that endured more than just a few words.

"Yeah, there is no way the vote would have been unanimous if you would have kept that hair." A loud voice laughed behind the two.

The owner appeared over Taehyung's shoulder, continuing to laugh in his ear. I could distinguish him by his very voice, Hoseok, who began prospecting at the same time Namjoon did.

"Yeah? I still might do it one day, just to piss you off." Taehyung said, shoving Hoseok's shoulder playfully.

"You'll be the only one looking like a fucking strawberry, dude." Another face came wandering in, this time behind Jimin. It was only next to Jimin that I was able to recognize who he was.

"Jungkook?" He revealed a pair of bunny teeth and his 16-year-old image flashed in my head. "Last time I saw you, you were following Jimin around like a puppy. Good to see things haven’t changed"

They all began to tease and ponder the poor boy, Jimin especially, reached his hand up and lightly slapped his face. Jungkook could only laugh off the taunting as he looked back at me.

"Things have changed, (Y/n)." He purposely deepened his voice and with a smug look, pushed Jimin out of the way. With his hand hooked around his belt, he danced a slow walk toward me. "Now I'm 23 and… 5′10."

He let his eye drop into a wink and I shivered with a deep cringe. I couldn't help but burst out laughing, trying to withhold the obnoxious cries with my hand. The rest of the boy's laugh echoed my own. Everyone except Namjoons, it was only seconds later that he came up from behind me, elbowing the young member away.

"Cute, Jungkook." He stated, certainly not finding humor in Jungkook's flirtatious act.

"Honestly Jungkook, you're sick, her father just died," I noticed Seokjin as he spoke from behind the group, Yoongi just beside him.

"It was a joke." Jungkook protested as he stumbled back beside Jimin.

"It won't be a joke when Namjoon murders you for messing with his sister," Yoongi scolded.

"Stepsister."

Namjoon and I bluntly corrected, at the same time.

Our severe voices caused everyone to stop laughing, questionably staring in our direction. My head went blank as soon as I realized what had happened. The silence expanded to us and I hastily looked away from the situation.

"Where's the prospect?" Namjoon asked taking the pressure off the prior incident.

"He went to go find me some smokes," Taehyung replied and with perfect timing, the front door behind them opened abruptly.

"I got them!"

A voice called making his way around the group of boys with a pack of red Marlboro. Taehyung moved quickly to seize the cigarettes from his hand without a single thank you.

"Say hello, prospect." He said pushing the young boy on his back causing him to stumble forward into my line of sight.

Caught by utter surprise, he stared at me bashfully. I tilted my head as I examined his features carefully. Something about him looked familiar however he was so young, I could almost deny that I knew him at all. I just couldn't figure it out. He looked at me with pleading eyes, almost as if he was praying that I would recognize him. He had to be at least 19 years old now, which would put him at the age of 12 when I left.

Then it clicked.

"Yeonjun?"

When he smiled, in a matter of seconds, my heart completely melted. My face broke into a grin that ached my cheeks, my eyes glossed with more tears as I walked up to him. He lived just down the road, I used to babysit him when his mother took night shifts at the hospital. I placed my hand on his shoulder and got a better look at his face. I couldn't help but complain. "You lost your baby fat."

The boys teasingly ‘aww’ed at him, Jimin dramatically clenching his heart with his hand. Taehyung wrapped his arm over Yeonjun’s shoulder and began poking at his cheeks. He could only stand there and take the banters of his elders as it was a form of hazing for prospects. However, Yeonjuns head remained held high as he proudly said,

"I told you she would remember me." Taehyung, who he was specifically speaking to, could merely roll his eyes and let the prospect enjoy his victory.

As happy as I was at that moment, I couldn't help but fall mute, the truth of everything just sort of unraveling in my mind. Seeing Yoenjun was a testimony of how much I left behind, the little things I didn't know I cared about so much. The people I used to know had moved on without me. Everyone was so different and changed into better versions of themselves. I began to question if I had really done the same. I felt robbed of the person I could have been, the person I thought I was meant to be. Blackburn was a family community, everyone knew each other- now, I was just an outsider.

I heard the boy's laughter cut short, my train of thought lost by the screeching sound of tires coming from outside. All of our heads turned to follow the noise. Down the hall where the front door stood lonely, we moved as a group, our feet trying to get a clear image of the outside. There was just enough darkness to see through the glass shapes cut into the frame of the door. The street of Ivory Lane was cleared except for a gray van parked parallel in front of the house.

Before I could think to question anything, the side door slid open and three masked figures appeared, in their hands were fully automated KG-9s.

"Get down!"

Namjoon's voice was all that I heard before my body was hitting the floor. Someone's weight was on top of me, acting as a shield, as the following movements were full of total chaos.

Thousands of rounds firing off, causing the windows to shatter into pieces. My arms covered over my head, shards of glass scratching against the leather of my sleeves. My cheek pressed against the wood as I heard the screams of the souls in the house, women, and children.

I raised my head to see Yeonjuns face over my shoulder. His forearms rested on either side of my head, I saw the fear in his face, the way his eyes were shut tightly. I took a look at the rest of my surroundings, Taehyung and Namjoon were leaning against the wall, their hands working fast to load their handguns.

"Cover me!" Namjoon yelled over the firearms.

My heart was pumping adrenaline throughout my body. But the thought of my family home being shot up while grieving my father's death fueled me with red rage. It was blinding.

I forced Yeonjun off of me, my knee pinning him down on the floor where he would remain clear of any bullets.

"What are you doing!?"

I stayed crouched as my arms reached behind me. My hands felt for the Glock 23 that I had tucked into the belt of my pants. The heavy metal was cold in my hand, I clicked the safety off and rose on my feet.

"(Y/n)!"

I moved quickly, my gun pointed out toward the door as I reached quickly yanking it open. I found the three men retreating back into the van. My brain didn't hesitate to take the aim to the one in the middle, pulling the trigger over and over again, my arms resisting the gun’s kickback. The bullets went cutting through the air, piercing holes of the van until one finally broke through the skin of his shoulder. He struggled to reload his gun as his two partners jumped into the van.

"(Y/n)! Get back!"

Bullets behind me came firing at the van, shattering the window of the driver. I kept firing at the already injured figure, his friends running to get him in the van as they were trying to flee. They pulled at his arms, dragging him into the van as he finished reloading. With a click of his ammo, he aimed his gun at me but I fired first. My bullet went right through his kneecap causing him to fall off the moving van. His partners had no option but to leave him behind.

"(Y/n)!" Namjoon yelled as my feet moved, sprinting, toward the man bleeding out on the street.

He laid on his back, holding his disjointed knee in one hand. He wore a ski mask and black clothing. I kicked away his KG-9 with my foot and aimed my gun at him.

"Put your hands up! Put Your hands up!" I commanded. He followed them without hesitation. Namjoon and Taehyung came running up behind me.

"Put the gun down, (Y/n)," Taehyung said calmly but I didn't budge. I could only stare angrily at the blue eyes I could make out through the holes of the mask. My hand began to tremble from rage. I wanted to shoot him, I wanted to shoot him so very bad. "People are watching, (Y/n)."

I glanced back at the house where people were gathering behind the broken windows. I took a deep breath, shaking to remain calm, and lowering my gun.

Namjoon and Taehyung moved in, holding him down as they removed his mask. I didn't recognize him in the slightest, he was white, with thin white hair and ice-blue eyes, at least 40 years old.

"I’ve got PB ink here," Taehyung said to Namjoon as he raised his arms to reveal tattoos.

"Help! Please help!" A scream filled the night, coming out the front door was a woman. Her face contoured in pain as wails left her mouth. She held a young boy, pressed against her chest, drenched in blood. "My son, please!"

She begged as Jimin helped her hold the boy up. His hand was stained with blood over the wounds on his chest and abdomen. But the boy's body was unresponsive, lifeless, he was already gone.

That's when everything went silent for me. My ears hollowed with a ring of white noise. I felt my hand loosen as the gun fell from my grip. As the metal hit against the street, I stepped back toward the gunman, trance-like. His eyes barely caught mine before I stomped my foot on his face.

"(Y/n)!"

I growled through my teeth as I felt the cartilage of his nose crack under my boot with the first stomp. The ones after that beat his teeth into his mouth. Gashes of blood leaked into the curves of his face. He begged and cried for me to stop but I couldn’t.

Taehyung wrapped his arms around my waist, I fought back, but he lifted me and tore me apart from him.

Masterlist ≽

#bangtan mc #bts #bts fanfic #bangtan fanfic #kim namjoon #kim taehyung #kim seokjin #park jimin #jeon jungkook #Jung HoSeok #min yoongi #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts scenarios #bts gang au

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blackevermore · 4 years

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x Our past, your future, my love (More fleshed out)

- Tayonna was bought at the age of 15 in New York in 1681 to the Wealthy Prussian/German-Russian Masters family. She wasn't the only servant they bought, but she was the one who was left in charge of house duties. Vlad(an) was the eldest son who stayed behind in Germany for schooling but once he was done he came to America to join the rest of his family.

- The family didn't deal in the slave business but they did have servants. While they were kind people they still upheld the idea that blacks were under them.

- During her time there Vladan found out that Tayonna came from a witch bloodline and she would show him the magic she could do. He thought she was going to kill them all and it took a lot to convince him she was actually putting a spell over them to extend their kindness until she died. She didn't want to be sold again. Over time Vladan would sneak her books he would find about witchery.

- The family taught her German, Proper English, to read, to write, but she was told when anyone the family was not too comfortable with to pretend uneducated.

- When Tayonna was 21 and Vladan was 28 the parents died and Vladan was then her master. He returned to German to carry out the family business. He gave her strict rules on what she could and couldn't do while they were back in the German empire. They lived there for about four years, long enough for Vladan to establish himself and they go back to America to continue the business.

- They fall in love but they make sure to keep it a secret but word got out while in America that Vladan was in love with a slave (though he never saw her a one) and the business was becoming tarnished. Vladan started to panic because this was his family lifeline and he didn't want to destroy it due to love. One day, while guest were over Tayonna, overheard someone tell Vladan he should sell her to someone to clear his name. And for a short moment, Vladan thought about it but dismissed it bc he was helplessly in love with her.

- Then the people found out Tayonna was a witch when they caught her playing with Vladan and making them fly. In due time a mod was formed to come and kill Tayonna and "free" Vladan from her doing since ya know black + witch is bad.

-When Vladan tried to leave America, the boat captains were told to no allow him to board especially if he was with Tayonna. This lead to another mob trying to break into his home and kill Tayonna. There is a wild chase into the woods and a riverbank that Tayonna trips into and nearly drowns. But she wills herself to get out of the river and thats when its fully confirmed she's a witch.

- Tayonna escapes the mob and hides in the Woods and Vladan is taken under the local priest for "protection" but he gets out and is deemed unsavable.

-Vladan overhears that once again a mob would be going after Tayonna and hunting her down so Vladan takes matters into his own hand and goes out to find Tayonna.

- He finds her hiding by the bank of the river and kills her to "save" her from the mob and anyone that wanted to cause her harm. This would be the betrayal Tayonna's ghost would fester off of and become a poltergeist.

- After he kills her the people deem him saved and freed and he hurries to leave America his life in guilt in the German Empire until his death

- Modern day Clockwork was aware that Vlad family tree was broken and eventually the past would come up again. He knew Vlad would be reborn and would become a hafla. But he failed for the first time to prepare Vlad for the return of Tayonna when she reawoke at the tampering of the ghost zone.

- Vlad goes off into the ghost zone with Danny to figure out what's going on (bc in this au Phantom Planet never happened and Vlad stop bugging Danny with trying to get with his mom) and they find more hidden areas of the ghost zone they never been too. Since Danny is king of the ghost world he kinda has to go and see what's going on and that's when Tayonna sense the return of her "lover" and a battle breaks out.

- It's very clear she has no business with Danny and goes straight for Vlad despite him not being in his human form. She can sense his soul and she knows that who she has to kill. they make it out alive after Danny manages to knock Tayonna out and Vlad is sooooo confused and rushes to start figuring out what the living fuck is going on.

- That's when CW visits him finally and very vaugily he explains to Vlad that Tayonna is a ghost form his past that was never put to rest. And Vlad needs to 1) figure out where she fits into his story 2) figure out a way to finally put her to rest. A lot easier said than done

#📖Ghost Stories👻#self ship #self shipping #self shipping community #oc x canon #vlad masters

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swampy-sayin-it · 4 years

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Literary Terms in the Bible

The Bible is like any other book in that is also follows the laws of language. So, in saying that the Bible also contains many different forms of literary terms. It is in this area that some may get off track and chase rabbits down the wrong trail. Here is a brief look at some of the literary terms you will come across in your Bible. I. NARRATIVE The narrative, or the story, is the most common literary form in the Bible. The reason scripture is mostly narrative is that God has an active part in human history. The Biblical narratives contain patterns, or archetypes, that capture the essential theme of the human experience. The stories of conflicts between good/evil, faith/doubt, Heaven/Hell, light/dark, courage/cowardice, and so on are enacted throughout the scriptures. It is when the stories are combined in a unified whole with a beginning, a middle, and ending that the reader becomes involved in the plot. Then you can see the hand of God upon all human history. A. Creation and Communication When you read Genesis 1:1-3:24 and Revelations 20:1-22:21 you can see some striking resemblances. Creation Genesis - creation of the old universe and man separated from God Revelations - creation of the new universe and man with God Sin Fall of man - eviction from paradise (Garden of Eden) Judgement of man - unsaved and condemned to Hell In between these books are the events of human history that have given all mankind the choice between two eternal destinies: with or without God. B. Epic An epic is a long narrative that is usually written in an elevated poetic style that combines many episodes. The journey from Egypt to Canaan is a good example. There are many smaller stories in that one larger story. The Bible not only records he journey itself, but all the important events that happened on the way to the promised land are recorded also. C. Law The Law (Torah) is the written form of legislation in the narratives. The Hebrew nation referred to the first five books of the Bible as the Law, or Torah. In these narratives you will find legislation on moral codes, ceremonial duties, and community duties. The Law is written in an ancient form of binding covenant between a lord and his dependents. D. Heroic Narrative These stories are based upon the principal character and are designed to show their exploits in life. The exploits, in turn, are used as role models as the hero embodies the accepted social and moral values. How the hero deals with problems are important themes here. E. Tragedy These stories are based upon the pitfalls of life and also teaches us lessons in mortality. II. POETRY is There is more poetry in the Bible than many people would care to believe. In fact about 1/3 of the Old Testament is poetry. Besides the Psalms and the Proverbs many of the prophetical books are written in poetry. The reason for this is communication. Poetry is easier to remember than other forms of communication. Also, poetry is an effective way to relate ideas and personal expressions in their stories. If you catch a commercial on TV many times it is written with poetry so their idea comes across and is easy to remember. The following are examples of poetry found ion the Bible. A. Hebrew Poetry Hebrew poetry is different than what we are more familiar with. While most of the poetry we read, or listen to, will rhyme sounds or words. Hebrew poetry rhymes ideas and thoughts. the general tone of Hebrew poetry is stark. Adjectives are rarely used. Instead, the words convey dignity and immediacy. No abstract term are used here as the imagery of the poems are idea centered. However, imagery and modifiers are used to keep the perception centered. Hebrew poetry is based upon a rhyme of thought. The Hebrews arranged their thoughts carefully and accurately. We can see these arrangements of thought in the form of lines called "stichs" (sticks). These lines are paired up in two line structure called a "distich". These lines are what compose the pattern of thought in the poem. The pattern is usually done in a cadence of three's. This march-like pattern was to help the listener retain the message of the poem. This pattern is known as "Hebrew parallelism". Please note, although the pattern of three + three is the most common found in here it is not not the only rhythm used in Hebrew poetry. Here are some examples of Hebrew parallelism: 1. Synonymous - the same thought is expressed in the parallel lines with the second line echoing the first. ( Psalm 19:1) 2. Antithetic - a contrast, or opposition, existing between the first line and the second line. (Psalm 1:60) 3. Synthetic or Constructive - the construction of the two lines being similar, but the second line adds a variation supplement in thought, amplification, extension, or explanation. (Psalm 19:7 variation Job 19:25 extension) 4. Analytical - the second line gives the consequence of the first and often the implication of the first is made clear in the second. (Psalm 23:1) 5. Climatic - the same words, or themes, are repeated with a rise in thought arrangement leaning to a climax (Psalm 94:3) 6. Tautological - the same words are repeated for rhetorical reasons; emphasis, clarity, etc. (Psalm 94:3) 7. Chiastic - this is based upon the Greek letter chi (X) a. the units of thought are crossed over like an X b. multiple themes are crossed over in multiple chapters. B. Lyric Poetry The Psalms and Ecclesiastes are predominantly made up of lyric poetry. This is poetry that was set to music and used in Hebrew worship services. The Psalms are actually literary compositions that develop themes. The different types of psalms that are found were used for a variety of functions of worship both corporate and individual. 1. Nature Psalms - these emphasize the relationship between God and nature. 2. National Psalms - the emphasize the relationship between God and country. 3. Royal or Messianic Psalms - the psalms concern themselves with the king of Israel. These are also prophetic psalms concerning the coming king of Israel. 4. Penitential Psalms - to emphasize the psalmist's petition ot God for forgiveness. They also reflect the condition of the soul. 5. Miscellaneous Psalms - themes of trust, righteousness, and pilgrimage. 6. Literature of Praise - exalting God for deliverance, forgiveness, and mercy. III. WISDOM LITERATURE This unique form of Biblical literature is generally found in Job, Proverbs, and Ecclesiastes. Wisdom literature teaches about life through compact sayings that are easy to memorize. It is these practical sayings that the Hebrews taught their children about daily life and situations that come up. Knowledge is the key when reading wisdom literature. The person receiving a revelation of truth would then apply this truth to everyday life. It is this confrontation that would transform "head" knowledge into practical wisdom. this knowledge is taught in three basic forms: 1. The supreme teaching of God. 2. Spirituality as the source and foundation of all wisdom. 3. The task of wisdom was the imparting of revealed truth and not the process of human wisdom. Jeremiah 18:18 lists three classes of spiritual leaders in Hebrew culture. These are priests, prophets, and sages (wise counselors). The sage was the ancient equivalent of a modern day missionary. Their role was defined as the following: 1. They were not part of the temple work. 2. They did not conduct formal schools. 3. They travelled. 4.They delivered their message to individuals. 5. They did not present an argument. 6. They delivered God's truth with the assurance of the one who had seen God's wisdom. IV. PROPHETIC LITEREATURE A. Old Testament Prophets "A prophet is one who speaks for a god and interprets his will to man." (1) in Biblical terms. A prophet is one who is called by God to speak for Him. This call, by God, to the individual came as a personal event to the one called (cf. Isaiah 6:1-11, Amos 7:14,15, Jeremiah 1:1-19). God has never used a stereo-typed formula for His use of a prophet. God does use a variety of events and/or personalities to get His message across to the prophet. Prophets are men moved bu the Holy Spirit as God spoke. When reading Old Testament prophecy your approach should be one of two ways. First, is the prophecy for a present situation? "Present situation" prophecy shows an event that is current with the times. This can also be an indication of future events. Am excellent example of this would be the fall of Israel and Judah to their enemies because they turned their backs on God. This is not only a "present situation" prophecy but it applies to all other nations that hve forsaken God. this is prophecy that is come without a present day event. The second type of prophecy is "futuristic" prophecy. This is prophecy that is to come without a present day event. The content is well worth studying thought as it related to God's plan of redemption through Jesus. If Jesus is the Messiah He must fulfill ALL prophecy in God's word concerning Him. NOTE: This is where consulting some good commentaries when studying prophecy. This will help you stay in balance and focus with the scriptures. (1) Lasor, Wm. S. D.Hubbard, F. Bush, Old testament Survey, it's Message, Form and Background. Wm Eerdman's Publisher, Grand Rapids, MI 1982 pg 278.

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