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summercreolefanfictioner · 3 months ago

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the scent wafts in, her name making him beg on his knees BONUS CHAP 1

pairing: dabi / todoroki touya x fem!oc / reader (MODERN AU)

summary: she was on a date, yet another man captivated her heart with his beautiful blue gaze (fem!oc-centric)

(in which Sonohara airs her side of story.)

themes: mentions of cheating, sex, alcohol, cigarettes etc YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

notes: forgive me for errors; I just had to post due to my excitement lol sonohara's pov gives so much insights on how the two of them started and I like romance bcos I am just a girl 💅

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She didn't know what she did to be stared upon by the most beautiful pair of blue eyes—cold, intense, piercing her like blades halted in time and she was too slow to get away from them. She was sitting alone in the middle of the bar, her boyfriend doing the same shitty lame of an excuse about his stomachache and going to the toilet when she knew he was doing someone out there, probably screwing with a random woman until her senses go wild and hazy and she knows this woman wouldn't be able to walk back to the bar and he'd be feeling refreshed with that smug face like an accomplishment; like another earned medal in his collection of awards.

It was one thing to accuse one's boyfriend of cheating; it was another thing to know it was true.

High school was her supposed spring of bloom, a newfound romance with her boyfriend bore fruit and it had been bliss. Had... had it been for him to change his mind afterwards. It was like the songs. Young love doesn't last forever, everyone's always out to chase the thrill—just like him. They exchanged a lot of promises before, about being each other's "only" and "forever," but he quickly forgot about those the moment they went separate ways during college. They met new people in their perspective universities, and while she still had her heart in his hands, it only took him a while before he started becoming so secretive, so easily annoyed when she voices out her opinions, and so distracted and uninterested when she tells him about her day. She tried confronting him, but he would immediately shot down her accusations, that it was all in her head; that she was making up things to fight about.

She wanted to lie, to stay because he comes around and makes her hope that he had changed and he finally realized she was the one he truly needed. Life was not a story of boy changes himself because of a girl. Life was boy decides to break the girl's heart because he knew he can. This was her painful reality.

"I want to break up with him... He... I saw him cheating on me... many times already."

"What are you talking about? Think about your future for once! He's from a well-off family, and he earns so much as an architect. Be grateful he's still coming back to you. Those women are just flings. Sex and love are two different things!"

Those were the things her mom said, all because she doesn't see anything redeeming about her (not that she cared, honestly; she never had the thought of earning anyone's approval anyway). Realizing this twisted routine became her new normal, she feared breaking up. She feared bringing the topic to light because she got used to him being around despite not caring anymore if he went out on a few dates with someone else while he's at work elsewhere or having sex with a random stranger he met. She lost it in her to care, to savor the true love she wanted.

It wasn't love. The love has already faded. It was just her scared of a life without this normal chaos.

Until this one man with the pair of beautiful blue eyes, unruly dark hair, mysterious boyish charm, and dangerous vibes sat in front of her; on the same seat her boyfriend should've been if he wasn't so busy doing something (rather someone) else. He was quite rugged, punk rock style encasing his charm, and with the heavy scent of whiskey and mint lingering around him. She wanted to squint her nose so bad at the smell, but that would be a bit rude, though. Nonetheless, he was boyishly handsome in her book, an enigma of a man whose features did not coincide with the traditional "handsome Japanese guy."

I bet he looks more handsome with a lighter hair color.

"You don't fit in here," he said coldly, his nonchalant tone evident as how he stared at her like he was staring straight through her soul; like he was judging her entirety with every fiber of his being.

Honestly, she couldn't argue wtih him, especially when it was true. She didn't fit in here; she didn't want to be here in the first place, if not for her boyfriend who insisted she should try going to a bar to celebrate her promotion at work. And much to her surprise, this man in front of her was a lot nicer than he looks—even gave her his leather jacket, making all the burnt scars across his body visible. Some girls around her even gawk at the sight of his perfectly toned muscles because my oh my, he was ripped. RIPPED TO THE CORE. She was sure she had only seen men like these in the movies, but for this man to talk to someone like her, it was like a dream.

This is just a silly crush, okay? No big deal. Stop acting like a schoolgirl.

Afterwards, he told her to come with him and his friends outside where they could watch a romance movie and have a smoke. Well, a weaker part of her wanted to, like she was so willing for this man to just take her somewhere far away from here and never return to her morbid reality; the rational part of her warned her not to be rude, that she still has her date out there. So, she declines, a lump in her chest with the way she lied about her boyfriend's whereabouts. That he was having a stomachache or something. How foolish a girl can be.

"Are you sure you want to go by that answer?"

Of course, she was not. So when he grabbed his keys and held her hand, she already that this guy, whatever his name was, already had her heart in his hands. This was cruel; this was thrilling; this was making her happy and guilty for it. Attraction and temptation were two devils conniving to begin her downfall as she took in the way his warm and rough hand was so gentle as he guided her to his car. Even the stares he gave her when she and Himiko were watching the movie was too much for her heart, scolding herself mentally for not being able to control her emotions. At the same time, she would reason out, It's all his and his beautiful, mysterious eyes' fault that I am this way. He should stop being beautiful, at least.

When he left them to take a hit of his cigarette, they watched the movie quietly. It was a comfortable silence until Himiko affirmed the emotions burning in her.

"You like Dabi," the blonde stated with a sneaky smile, the same Cheshire cat thingy that she quite loathed at the moment.

"Da—who?"

Himiko rolled her eyes. "Dabi! The guy with the dark hair. You like him. You keep on ogling him, Sahara-chan!"

It was out in the open, and all she could do was blush in embarrassment. Well, there's no harm telling about Himiko everything, right? She's never had a friend aside from her older sister, so might as well have someone who'll listen to her pour out her real feelings.

"About earlier, I also like romance, Toga-chan," she started, seeing how Himiko was invested in whatever she wanted to say. "I just think romance does not suit me. I have a crush on..." she momentarily forgot the man's name, "him... but, you see, my boyfriend... even if I don't love him anymore, I don't know how to leave him."

"Shouldn't it be easy, though? You just tell him you're done with him and his bullshit," Himiko argued, shocking her with her vulgar words. "I don't know about the real details, but I heard him and Jin talk earlier and they said that jackass was having sex with one of the cocktail servers."

Right. Of course, he would. He had always done that before; have sex with someone while on a date with her.

"I am scared of the future. I am scared of the next step. He had been a constant even if I don't want him around. My life has stability as long as he is around."

Because once I break off things, my mom would never hear the end of it. People will talk. His parents will beg me to take him back no matter what. My father will do nothing about it like he always does. And that guy... he would take control of things to make himself look good. He does that everytime. I never win. I will always be in the wrong, after all.

"But... don't you want to be happy?" Himiko suggested. "I bet Dabi will make you happy."

"Huh?"

And before they could talk about it more, the guys have returned inside the car, and they all proceeded to watch the movie again. The more she watched the movie, the more she could relate to both the female characters. The feeling of wanting freedom was so liberating, and the feeling of wanting to be right was not in her favor. She sighed, and when she accidentally looked at the rear mirror, the man was staring at her.

She quickly looked away. Why is he staring? Has he been watching me?

And when he insisted to drive her home, she knew she had to mention that damn guy forcibly even though he was already out of the picture. She just had to, because this was all wrong. She should be catching feelings once she's single, and yet she still has no idea when that will happen. But nonetheless, being alone with this man who calls himself Dabi was so, so, so, soooo wrong. WRONG. WRONG. WRONG!

They had an argument at first, with him suddenly pulling her out of his car and sneering at her as he trapped her against a nearby wall. She was supposed to be scared, to be frightened at the proximity of him leaning close to her ear as the smell of cigarettes kept suffocating her. But she held herself, maintained her composure, and did not cry or blush.

"I can walk from here. Thank you again, Dabi-kun. Please send my regards to Twice-san and Toga-chan."

But "Dabi" did not let her go, still drove her home and even walked her to her door. That guy has never done that to her, but this man did. It was new. It was a fresh breath of air. It was a miracle to know yhat there were still men like him out there. And as she went inside, she held his jacket close to her body, imagining herself being trapped against that wall. She should've returned the jacket and go back to her sad reality without this Dabi or whoever he said he was (because she couldn't believe he was born with a name that means cremation.) But no; she wanted a piece of her own delusion.

She will take a dip, hoping she won't get burned later on.

next chapter

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malafresita · 5 months ago

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I miss when I was able to vent on here but I have gotten to the point where I’m scared to. I get scared that people who I have gotten close to at some point or even talked to would judge me. judge my life, or judge those I speak about but here goes nothing because I have absolutely no one to vent this to.

For starters, I know I should be at a point of my life where my parents relationship and decisions should no longer affect me, I suppose mind my own business. For as long as I can remember, their relationship has been the most traumatic memory for me growing up and until now.

It all started when I used to have the nightmares of my dad cheating on my mom. Every weekend who would go out with friends and drink while my mom was always home with my brothers and I. There would be nights when my dad would come back home being extremely verbally abusive towards my mom. It would scare, I would cry. As I got alittle older I would find hiding spots to go cry in because the screaming, yelling, and the sound of things being thrown would scare me. At the town we lived in everyone knew my dad was cheating on my mom but at the time she didn't believe it then we moved away. The problems still continued, dad still drank and fought with mom. I would hide underneath my bed or outside in the backyard because I couldn't take it.

Geez all my built up hurt and emotions has me crying.

As I got older I resented my dad. I hated him for the way he treated my mom and the way he talked about my mom's family. I had such a shitty relationship with my dad. once I was in middle school I wouldn't talk to him. at the time dad was doing drugs and drinking which made him continue to be violent. he also treated my youngest brother differently because he thought my little brother wasn't his (which he is). I also grew very depressed and developed an eating disorder. I was weak both physically and emotionally, and when I was 13 years old I wanted to kill myself. No one knew that I had ever thought or felt that way because I always kept everything to myself.

As I got into high school, dad didn't drink as much but his personality never changed. When I was 17, I caught my dad sleeping with another woman. After that our relationship worsened. I never said anything what had happened but my dad treated me like shit. He told me I was "useless" and "unlovable" and "not worthy for anyone." I hated him. Meanwhile he would agree with my mom and accuse her of cheating with his best friend at the time and his best friend's son. and I so desperately wanted to move out of the state for college but I chose not to.

Then we moved further away in the middle of my senior year and once I was in college, things seemed to have gotten a bit better. The year I was pregnant with my daughter, my dad fought with me all the time because he thought I was always covering up for my mom. At the time my mom never did anything wrong, he was the one with the guilty conscience.

After my daughter was born I hoped that my dad would change, I really wanted him to but it got worse and I could take seeing my mom get treated like shit everyday so I told her about my dad cheating when I was 17. Until this day my dad blames me for their relationship going worse (today). Me telling her exposed us to many things we didn’t know before. The year prior my dad had been texting and calling an ex girlfriend , and his whole family knew he had been in contact with that woman. My mom lost her shit. She chose to forgive him but my dad never changed. Never did anything to show that he was sorry or regretted it.

I will never forget the day when he told my little brother that at one point he thought he wasn’t his. It broke me to see his face. It broke me to hear my dad say that to him.

A year later my mom had been cheating back on my dad with a man she had met at her job. His wife found out and all hell broke loose. Dad never found but they had cut contact shortly after.

Which all of this leads to today..

Yesterday my mom, daughter, and I were planning on visiting the lavender fields since we were planing to stay the night at my grandmas. But she turned around to get meet up with the man she had cheated with two years ago. I didn’t know how to process this information, I had feeling. But I was hurt that’s she used me to go do some shady shit. I’ve never felt soo hurt and disappointed. I’m a firm believer when the doors have been closed, they should remain closed. She is no longer the woman I could look up to.

I’m lost, angry, and I hate everything. I have no positive male or female figure in my life anymore . I just don’t see the use of it anymore. I genuinely wish I could disappear, start my own life, have my own family because the family that made me isn’t my family.

#me #personal #thoughts #malaintentions #sad #i hate it here

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notsosilentsister · 11 months ago

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Anatomy of a Fall (Justine Triet, 2023)

I find myself wanting to talk about this film like the characters in it are real people, which can be the mark of a story that has accomplished its aims. So the question is, did she do it? What do I think, what are we supposed to think?

I think we're supposed to think it's ambiguous. The climax is all about the son making a choice - it's clearly not an easy one for him. He isn't just telling the truth. He's - if not inventing entirely - embellishing, at least. The testimony might not provide much admissible evidence, but emotionally, it's too neat of a resolution, fits too well with the lawyer's characterisation of the husband. So well that at first I thought, sure, this has to be true, how could a kid have come up with this? But of course this is the kid of two writers. He cannot know if his mother is innocent, but he decides to save her anyway.

Sandra herself doesn't agree with her lawyer's characterization of her husband. She tells him right in court, where others might hear, when that's the pillar of his defense, undermining her own best shot at being exculpated. (Are we supposed to think she is at a real risk of being found guilty? I don't know enough about French courts to evaluate that, but I would normally assume there's not much of a case, the accusation is based on too much conjecture. But that's not truly what's at stake here, isn't it, the real stakes are about losing her child's trust and love. The suspense of the court's verdict might be taking artistic licence to dramatize the suspense of the child's verdict.)

Sandra has enough of a self preservation instinct to lie about the bruise, but she hesitates to support the suicide theory. She still doesn't seem to be entirely on board even after she herself has disclosed her husband's first suicide attempt. She's muddling her own story, and it does seem like a mark of counter-productive honesty. It could be manipulation - maybe making her lawyer think she's innocent is just as, if not more, important to her as proving her innocence in court? But it does seem genuine to me. Sandra is presented as someone who almost can't help her honesty. She's straightforward, blunt, she won't smile at her husband's friends, when she's not feeling it, she's showing her true colours, even if it costs her.

I declared Sandra innocent in my mind pretty early in the proceedings, I just couldn't buy the motive. A fit of rage? I kinda never buy that as an explanation, killing seems often like a fairly drawn-out-affair, where you have to commit to see it through, and it certainly does seem so in the scenario presented, where she would have to lift his legs over the windowsill. Like, I could sometimes see someone inadvertently killing a victim they just intended to scare, because they misjudged their power, but it's also hard to see that as a strategy Sandra would use in this scenario. My guess is that fatal domestic violence (without financial motive) is usually either habitual intimidation with miscalculated impact, a honor killing, or the last resort of a cornered animal. And those other options also don't seem to fit Sandra, whose honor doesn't rely on controlling her husband and who always seems to have plenty of agency - if she's unhappy in her marriage, she speaks her mind, she takes a lover; if she's unhappy enough, why wouldn't she just get a divorce?

But isn't that just the textbook mistake? To believe that a strong woman like Sandra would not get trapped in an abusive relationship? (She always seems to have plenty of agency - except when he's ruining her interview with his awful music, and she can't just tell him to shut it off..). Because that husband sure is a piece of work. I'm immediately predisposed against him, before he's even shown on the scene, with his first aural emantion. I grieve for him, when I see the grief of his child. And then he's on my eternal shitlist again, when he accuses his wife of always forcing others to meet her on her own territory, when he's just roped her into moving to his home-town. Because he has to speak English with her instead of his native tongue French, when she doesn't get to speak her native tongue German to him either! The gall of it! Shit's so transparent, it's adding insult to injury.

So the husand certainly _tries_to trap her, in isolation, in guilt, but doesn't she see through it, when she reads him for filth in that climactic altercation? Shouldn't that be enough to break the spell? Would she have to resort to violence to escape?

For what it's worth, I think the laywer's theory is much more likely. Husband tries it, and fails, and sees that his guilt trips won't work on her much longer. He's the one who's cornered. And I wouldn't put it past him to pull a Gone Girl and choose his exit in a way that frames the wife he blames for all his miseries. Vindictive self-destruction. Also fits well with the injuries to his knuckles and the holes in the walls, for which we do, after all, see objective evidence. But maybe I would believe any theory presented by Swann Arlaud (who, since we're talking about imagining animals' heads on people's bodies, obviously looks like a stoat. A beautiful stoat. I've been keenly waiting for Sandra Hüller to say it in that last scene they have together, when she cradles his head and looks deep into his eyes. But this film is really all about witholding resolution.)

#anatomy of a fall #justine triet #sandra hüller #swann arlaud #film #film review #journal

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lyon-amore · 4 months ago

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Based on my Jake and Macie AU where they had a relationship before Jake ran away. Set five years later.

It had been a year since what happened in Duskwood. A year since I saved my sister with Macie's help. I promised I would find her, but things got complicated, so as always, we kept in touch by phone instead of going to look for her, returning her friends to her cell phone, and she, once again involved in another case. She was always a magnet for mysteries. Even before I disappeared from her life when we were dating.

I finally decided to work up the courage to go to Colville and meet Macie, get closer to her and try to at least recover what I had lost five years ago since I ran away that night. But… I ended up remembering that she had already rebuilt her life. I remember she told me that she had a daughter, who she keeps away from social media because she doesn't want to expose her because she's young, that's why I tried to protect them as much as possible from those who were chasing me. I felt guilty for having brought her into my sister's case for a simple mistake. The positive thing was talking again and seeing that the connection we had never disappeared.

So here I am at the bus station, waiting for the bus that will take me out of the city to arrive. It was stupid to think that maybe seeing her would be good, why did not I think of her? I was just being selfish thinking about what I wanted, and not about her safety. I had to admit it: I cannot see her again since that night. I wish she had a good life with Albert and her daughter. Because at least he has been by her side during these years.

I see a girl of about five years old walk past me, with an angry face and crossed arms. Her steps are loud, but not so loud that they make too much noise. Her blonde hair is tied back with bunny clips. She sits down next to me, letting out an exaggerated sigh. Afraid that someone will accuse me of being dangerous to the girl, I move to the bench next door, at least to act quickly in case some suspicious guy approaches her. I look everywhere. Where are her parents? Did she come alone?

<<But how could a little girl come here?>>

I hear a children's tune and he takes out a small cell phone, of those that children have just to have contact with their parents and be able to locate them. Will she know?

“No, I'm not going back,” the girl answers in an angry tone.

And hangs up.

<<You do not know what you have done, a mother should never be hanged.>>

I wonder what must have happened to make the girl angry. I shake my head. I do not care. She is not my daughter and I do not know her either.

I keep my hands in my sweatshirt pockets, waiting.

"Mothers, they're the worst," I hear the girl say and I see her shaking her head in an exaggerated manner while denying it.

I see her looking at me out of the corner of my eye and mimicking my posture, as if to make herself look angrier. I sigh and take out my phone, wishing the bus was here.

“Hope!” a voice sounds familiar to me and I turn my head when I hear it.

My surprise is to see Macie, accompanied by a security guard. I see how the girl has turned her head when Macie has shouted: Is that her daughter?

“Mommy?” says the little girl.

Macie walks over to her, crouching down and placing her hands on her shoulders.

“Don't ever do this to me again,” Macie starts crying and I feel pain in my chest at the sight of her. I can't get close to comfort her, “I can't lose you too, do you understand? You can't go off alone,” she doesn't raise her voice, but she clearly controls herself out of fear.

“I… I’m sorry, Mommy…” the little girl starts crying, scared by clearly seeing Macie crying, “I just wanted to go to Duskwood…”

I am surprised to hear her words. Why does the girl want to go to Duskwood?

Macie wipes away her tears and sits down on the bench, leaving the little girl named Hope on her lap.

“Why do you want to go to Duskwood?” I watch as she fixes her hair, adjusting the clips.

“You said my aunt lives there,” I freeze upon hearing his words. Aunt? She won’t talk about…?

“I said that a year ago. How can you remember?”

She shrugs, almost innocently.

"I remember," she answers in a thin voice, "you said that Lilly shouldn't know that I was her niece so as not to complicate things."

Again, another reality check. I look more closely at the girl, although now she has her back turned, I cannot see her features. But calculating… then… then she's not… She's not Al's daughter?

“Oh dear…” Macie hugs her tightly, “I'm sorry… I wanted to wait until you grew up to tell you everything.”

I am still in shock. The girl... Is she my...?

“You never tell me anything, Mommy,” she replies, “and you promised me when the grandparents died that we had each other.”

“I know and I'm sorry,” she pulls away a little, placing her hands on her… our daughter's face, “but you shouldn't have run away like that. Where did you learn that?”

She shrugs again.

<<I guess it is my fault and my genes.>>

The bus arrives and I stand up, gathering my things. I should leave. Get away from them.

“Honey, I know it's been difficult for both of us, but I promise that from now on I'll tell you everything,” Macie smiles at her, a smile I've missed seeing and it makes my heart race.

“Promise?” Hope pouts at her and I look better on her. She has my eyes and my nose.

I feel like I am going to break down right now and scream for leaving her alone for all these years, not knowing that she got pregnant before I left.

“I promise,” she raises her pinky and Hope does too, making the pinky promise.

Seeing how close they are reminds me of my mother and how she had to raise me without a father. Do I want the same for Hope? They both radiate a light that I can never have. And seeing them makes me feel warm. I clutch the travel bag where I keep my computers. I have to go. I have to… do it…

“Let's go home, Henry must be worried about you,” Macie puts the little girl down and stands up, taking her hand.

They both start walking towards the exit.

It was an impulse.

It was something I could not control.

I walk over to them, taking Macie's hand.

“What the—” Macie starts to break free, but stops when she looks into my eyes.

It is funny that she knows who I am just by looking into my eyes, it is the only thing I have discovered.

“Mommy, who is it?” my daughter asks, in a curious voice.

I pull down my mask and smile. Macie starts to cry, holding a hand to her mouth, as if to stop herself from screaming with emotion.

“You do not know how much I.have missed you, Macie,” I whisper to her.

She throws herself at me, kissing me. I am a little surprised, given that the girl must be wondering what is going on. But I cannot help it either, I kiss her back and it is something I have wanted for many years.

“The only man I have ever loved and will always love,” Macie answers Hope without taking her eyes off me.

“Who?” my daughter asks again.

I laugh and move away from Macie, crouching down next to Hope, who is hiding behind her mother's leg.

“I am so sorry Hope,” I say in a calm voice, not wanting to scare her, “I know it is weird for me to show up like this in your life,” I extend my hand in greeting, I think it's more appropriate knowing that we have never had a father-daughter relationship and a hug could scare her.

Hope slaps my hand away, along with a serious look. There is no mistaking it… she is my daughter.

“Hope!” Macie calls out, surprised.

“You made Mom cry…” Hope's voice is completely cold, “You shouldn't make her cry…”

I let out a weak laugh. She made her cry too, but I cannot blame her, what I did was worse.

“You are right, I shouldn’t,” I look up to see Macie, who is staring at both of us, “I am so sorry, angel.”

She shakes her head, crying as she smiles.

The bus signals to leave. I ignore it. I have something important to do here. I stand up and look Macie in the eyes, happy to talk to her again.

“Do you think I can stay until tomorrow?” I ask, running a hand over her cheek.

"That's if I let you go," she replies, leaning towards my hand with a mischievous smile.

I kiss her forehead, feeling the warmth of her skin. The smell of her perfume brings back memories.

“Are we going home?” To my surprise, Hope takes my hand, confident, “I want to tell you a lot of things, Dad.”

I stare at her as I hear her call my name. I did not expect it to be so fast.

“I told her about you and showed her the only photo I could rescue of you,” Macie explains to me, taking our little girl's other hand.

“I hope that all good things,” I reply, starting to walk with them.

I know I will have to explain to Hope why her dad will have to leave again. I will have to tell Macie that this cannot go on for weeks. I know it will be hard for both of them, but I will always be protecting them, and if Hope ever needs me, I will be there as her father, not as a stranger who will pass by once in her life. They are the most important thing in my life and I will not let anyone hurt them.

#duskwood #duskwood jake #duskwood mc #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood everbyte #duskwood game #everbyte studios #everbyte game #everbyte studio #duskwood fandom #duswood fanfic #fanfic #duskwood oneshot #oneshot

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allywritesforfun · 3 years ago

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Uhhh, a part 2 of the AweSamDude story. I don't know, maybe the court case would be cool! If requests arent open, then ignore them

um yes! I have wanted to make a part 2 for so long but had no clue where to start and this just makes perfect sense!

{Locked Up Heart pt 2} irl!warden!awesamdude x Reader

pronouns: were originally not mentioned, but now are she/they

word count: 2987

trigger warnings: mention/talk of rape and murder, court cases, somewhat angsty

a/n: the law I mentioned is a real law but I can't remember what the law is actually called so roll with it

part one

masterlist

You stared at yourself in the body mirror. You haven't seen yourself look like this in years. All dressed up and ready to impress. You wore a gorgeous black suit with a purple inside along with sleek black pants. You looked into the body mirror, admiring yourself.

Sam let you live with him “until you could find your own place” but neither of you had intentions of leaving. You looked at apartments once online, but you knew with this on your record that you were going nowhere but some run down ghetto, and Sam knew that too.

He knew that you would be able to take care of yourself there, he wasn't scared for your safety or any of that. He was scared that you wouldn't be able to support yourself. Finding a job was hard, all that there was these days for someone like you was online surveys that were not reliable.

Staying with Sam was the best of the both of you. He has been without a roommate for years now. He felt less alone with you being there. The first couple nights were awkward. You slept on the pull out couch and didn't have much clothes. You felt terrible about the amount of washes you did, but eventually you started to get more comfortable with Sam.

The first sign of progression was when he offered you his sweatshirt instead of a blanket. It was a sweet gesture, you gladly took it. Later that night instead of returning it, you cuddled it to sleep. Now, its your version of a teddy bear. Nice and warm and flourished with Sam’s scent.

You only started sleeping in his bed with him a week ago. It was a purposeful accident. He offered to watch tv in his room since you two deep cleaned the couch. You've planned on falling asleep on him, but you didn't plan for it to be that day.

It was the best feeling in the world: waking up to being wrapped around and held tight and safe. You must've laid there when you woke up for an hour before Sam got up. You pretended to be asleep so that you could play the innocent girl card. It worked.

You felt a pair of large hands caress your waist. You jumped and had a little fear-induced hiccup.

“Sorry!” Sam took his hands off and backed away. “I’m still getting used to sensitive areas.”

You two have been working on okay areas to touch. You taught yourself to be extra alert while in the prison and certain touches trigger your reflexes and others cause panic, like hips.

Because of your high murder count, you were sent to the normal prison, the non-all woman prison. It wasn't the worst in the world. You only saw males during eating times, but it was common to get grabbed like that. It happened to every single female, every eating hour. The guards did nothing about it, not that they really could.

Sam has seen it before, not you, but to other women. He had an idea of areas to stay away from, but he is such an affectionate guy and sometimes he forgets.

“You’re okay, Sam. The more you do it, the more comfortable I’ll get with it,” You explained.

Sam was so good to you. He’s helped you through it all. Everything that you needed to heal, he gave to you.

“Well then maybe after the trial we can get some practice in...” He swooned.

You chuckled, “If we win. There’s a chance I won't come back here tonight. I’m lucky enough that they gave me stay at home orders in the meantime.”

He nodded, “We’re gonna win.” He kissed your cheek, “How could anyone that looks as scrumptious as you right now lose? There is no way. We have the evidence, and we have your perfect prison record. Not a single misdemeanor! They might not drop all chargers but you’re coming home tonight.”

“Home?” You questioned.

You've avoided that word for the longest time. You always said ‘the house’ or ‘your place’. Not because you didn’t want this to be your home, not the exact opposite. You wanted this to be forever home, but you never wanted to overstay your welcome.

“Yes home,” Sam laughed. “Why wouldn’t this be home... you feel safe here don’t you?”

“I do!” You exclaimed, waving your hands back and forth in denial. “I just didn't realize you wanted this to be my home.”

Sam offered his hand out to you; you gladly took it. His soft hand gently squeezed yours as he pulled you slowly into him, embracing you, “Of course I want this to be your home. I couldn't imagine anywhere else I would want you to be. This never felt like home to me, until you came home with me.”

You breathed in his scent, instantly relaxing into him, “I like it here. A lot.”

He pressed his lips to your forehead, “Now have that same attitude in court, we got to go.”

The court room was filled, more than you expected. You looked around, not recognizing a single face except for a few prison guards who were testifying on both sides. You noticed the media set it up in the back. Your story hit the news faster than expected. You did have a great story: warden falls in love with murder.

“Hands out,” The officer directed.

You obliged. You opposed no threat to anyone and no intentions too, but if putting you in handcuffs made them feel better, then handcuffs it was. You looked back at Sam as the cold metal locked around your wrists. He replied with a frown, which quickly turned into an encouraging smile.

His bipolarness was the vibe right now. You noticed people having a hard time deciding where to sit. There were a lot of people on both sides, but no family members of yours. You gave up on them a long time ago when you noticed they weren’t writing letters and ignoring your calls.

You didn't need them, all you needed was Sam. You have everything you want right now, except for freedom.

“All rise!”

You stood up from the wooden bench. The judge walked in wearing the classic black gown and had a book in his hands. He nodded at a few of his guards before taking a seat. He opened up his book and looked around the room, landing on you.

“Good afternoon everyone, and there are a lot of you,” His voice was so deep that it bounced against the walls, making an eerie echo. “Calling the case of State Prison vs y/n. Are both sides ready?”

The representative of the prison and your lawyer both replied with a yes. The jury then stood and raised their right hand and made their oath, returning to the bench.

The representative stood up and gave their opening statement: “Ladies and gentleman of the court, Your Honor, the Jury. You will find that the defendant has been charged with four accounts of murder and convicted by confession. The defendant has taken accountability for all the murders committed and has given detail about how she killed those four men. It is ridiculous that we are here in court today deciding if we can release a serial killer back into the public. With a strong motive to kill, there is no reason why the defendant should be let back into the public eye.”

Serial killer. That is what you are. No one has ever said it that way, but he was absolutely right. You fit the definition perfectly, you had a type and more than three victims. It already wasn't looking good for you.

Your lawyer took center stage, “A martyr is the perfect word to describe the defendant. They have given their life to the state to save the lives of many to come. The strength that my client displays and ownership prove that although they are guilty of the crimes, they are still human and deserve a second chance.”

The judge called you to take the stand. You sat down after taking your oath and folded your hands neatly in your lap.

“Miss l/n,” He started. “Today you are trying to get your case dismissed after confessing to your crimes. That is very interesting. Let’s go back to before the crimes were committed, what were you thinking, what were you doing in your life at the time?”

You shook your head, “Many years ago I was an activist. I enjoyed speaking to the public about issues facing the community and the world at the time. If I wasn't outside with a sign, I was inside posting on social media. I was in college, I was studying Political Science.”

“And what were you planning on doing with the major?”

You paused. It’s been so long that you had a hard time remembering why you wanted to study and what career you wanted, “I was planning on becoming a political journalist, Your Honor.”

He shuffled around his papers, “I’ve looked at your latest credit that you were working on. It was a Sociology class. Do you remember what topic you were discussing in class?”

You nodded, “Rape. The number of rapes in a year and the number of rapists convicted was the last assignment I was working on.”

You remember that assignment like it was yesterday. That one assignment got you so worked up and so mad at the world, that you just had to do something. There was no way that you couldn't. Women’s voices were being ignored and cases rose every day; repeat offenders increased everyday.

“Now to my understanding all the men that you murdered were accused of rape.”

You nodded, “Yes, Your Honor.”

“The attorney may ask questions to Miss l/n.”

The attorney stood up and adjusted your jacket, “Miss l/n, did any of those men physically harm you?”

You shook your head, “No.”

“So you took advantage of the fact that you were young to persuade the men into being alone with you just to kill them?”

You shook your head, “No, I didn’t persuade them at all. All of them suggested going back to their place.”

“But you did stalk them to find out where they were going?”

“No,” You answered. “They had their location public on their phone. All I did was look up their name and I knew where they were.”

“So these men did nothing to you at all except invite you over to their house. And you accepted the offer under no influence or threat. You killed four innocent men and you want to be let back out on the streets? This woman is a danger to society. She seeks out innocent men to end their life for no reason.” He nodded his head and went back to his desk, looking at his notes. He looked back at you and nodded, “That will conclude my questioning.”

You looked back at your lawyer, they gave you back a look of relief. Then you searched the crowd for Sam. Once you found him he gave you a thumbs up. It seemed like you were already on top of the case.

“Miss y/n,” Your lawyer started. “We all know that you killed those men, but why?”

“They raped multiple women. When brought to court, they were given a light sentence and did not do proper justice to the woman. These woman went day to day fearing for their life that they ever spoke out about the terrible things that happened to them. I couldn't let myself live knowing that there was a reason for women to be scared because their government had failed them.”

“Those women were scared? Why were they scared?” “Because they feared that they would get raped again. All of those men were repeat offenders. They would only take more victims and never be punished.”

“So you killed those men to prevent others from being hurt with evidence that it would happen again.”

You nodded, “I would never hurt anyone that had no intentions of causing harm.”

“Miss l/n just described public defense. Under the public defense law, anyone can defend the public with reasonable cause. It’s like self-defense, but for others. She shouldn’t have been committed in the first place. If those men were still alive, they would have kept raping until they were killed. Miss y/n saved lives. That concludes my questioning.”

You were dismissed from the stand and went back by your lawyer. They smiled at you, knowing that with that alone, they had won the case.

The attorney called Sam to the stand; he took his oath and sat down.

“So, Sam. You were the warden in charge of the wing that Miss y/n was being held in?”

“Yes.”

“That prison is a tough place to be, she must’ve fussed around a lot.”

Sam shook his head, “Not one bit. She does not have a single complaint against her. Everything that was asked of her, she did with speed and efficiency. She didn't have one lash out in her time.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Like I said, not one complaint.”

“To my understanding you have a relationship with Miss l/n, is that correct?”

“Objection!” Your lawyer yelled. “Irrelevant to the case. Sam was called because of his position and his professional opinion, not his personal life.”

“Sustained.”

“That concludes my questioning.”

Your lawyer stood up and nodded. You could feel that they were about to lay down the last blow.

“Sam, did this prison have any rapists?”

He nodded, “All kinds of rapists, of all ages and target groups.”

“Did Miss l/n ever have contact with these rapists?”

“Yes. Most of the time during eating hours and the occasional passing in the hall.”

“And how did that interaction go?”

“Miss l/n was given a hard time by these rapists. While waiting in line she was often sexually grabbed. During passing she was cat called and teased at.”

“And what was here response to the sexual assault?”

“Stone faced, emotionless. Every time it happened it amazed me how she would just stand there and wait to be given a direction. The most reaction she’s ever had was lightly shuffling her body to get them off, but she never lunged or reached at them.”

“And what did the other guards do when they noticed this behavior?”

“Nothing. Sometimes they yelled if it was getting close to rape, but overall nothing. We were under instructions not to react because in the past it only caused encouragement of the assault. Prisoners love any excuse to fight a guard,” Sam looked over at you. “I am so sorry that there was nothing I could’ve done. Everyday I watched as you were touched and I wanted to give it to them, I wanted to make sure that I would see them every day of their life, but I couldn't. I couldn't risk hurting you more.”

You smiled, almost tearing up at his words, but you kept yourself composed with a small sniffle.

“The main concern of Miss y/n going back into the public is that she will kill again. As said by her and concluded by a court, she only killed rapists,” Your lawyer pointed out. “As stated by the warden in charge of looking over her, she had the opportunity to kill. She had the opportunity to hurt them, but she never took it. Even after being sexually assaulted, she still kept to herself. This is undeniable evidence that Miss y/n is a changed woman. In her file it is stated that she did more than required community service and went above and beyond with helping other cellmates. Her actions within the prison prove that she is a well-rounded and caring individual. She has changed her ways and is ready to go back into the world. She did justice to the world and it is time for the world to her justice.”

You waited anxiously for over an hour to find out what the jury had decided. You and your lawyer talked about possible outcomes. They told you the sooner they made the decision, the better chances that you had. You had no error in your case and said everything that you wanted to say. The opposing side’s evidence was all proven false.

You got called back into the court, the jury had made their final decision. You rose for the judge and took a seat when prompted. You could feel your leg bouncing.

“In the case of the State Prison vs l/n...” the judge started. You looked over your shoulder at Sam. He had his hands placed in a praying position with his head resting against them. “Miss y/n is found not guilty of all charges and her remaining sentence will be dismissed. She will compensated for her time falsely spent in prison plus be rewarded another trial for her sexual assault. This case is adjourned.”

You could feel emotion flood through you. Pure happiness and joy leaked from your eyes. You tilted your head back in relief and squeezed at your heart. All of these years of the bullshit you put up with was all worth it. You hugged your lawyer and thanked them up and down, the emotion so strong in you that you almost dropped to your knees. You were caught by familiar hands: Sam. Sam pulled you up and into him. He was practically jumping up and down in excitement. He calmed down for a second to lock eyes with you. He couldn't help but smile and cry with you. He placed his hands on your cheeks and pulled you into a deep kiss. It was nothing extravagant, just a simple deep and meaningful kiss that said all the words that he wanted to say.

“I’m coming home!”

#awesamdude #awesamedude x reader #x reader #warden #prison #warden!sam #irl #fluff #angst #mcyt #mcyt x reader #mcyt oneshot #oneshot #awesamdude oneshot #awesamdude imagine #imagine #mcyt imagine

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qi-rong-enjoyer · 3 years ago

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I'm starting to think it's easy to blame Jiang Cheng for not stepping up anytime Wei Wuxian was getting yelled at by Yu Ziyuan, unless you've been in that position before. Since this is about to get really personal and really long and spoilery, I'm going to put everything under the cut.

All it would have done is make the situation worse, because that would have caused Yu Ziyuan to get even more mad, and she'd yelling at him to fuck off and tell him that it's not any of his goddamn business and make her be angry for longer, and Jiang Cheng would've felt guilty, because in the end he failed to protect Wei Wuxian, because his efforts weren't good enough to get his mom to stop.

Also, seeing one of your parents get that angry is something that can be incredibly terrifying. ' It's scary, to the point of being paralyzing, and you want it to end, but you're completely powerless to do anything, and for your lack of power you feel guilty because you feel weak, even if you know the situation's not your fault. You want to fucking scream, but you know damn well yelling wouldn't change a thing. You want to hide, be anywhere but where you are right now. And all you can do is think 'makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop,' and feel miserable.

It's not easy to just stand up to a person like that. In fact, it's easier to not say anything even though you feel even more guilty than you otherwise would, and I'm saying this as someone who's been in this position; I'm saying it as someone who knows all too fucking well what it's like to be in that situation, and really wishes she didn't.

Even worse, that initial blame, that accusation, completely forgets the fact that he did try to do something at what was likely the most terrifying possible moment for him. When YZY was whipping Wei Wuxian after Wang Lingjiao arrived, Jiang Cheng was trying to stop her from hurting Wei Wuxian. His mom's maids (Jinzhu and Yinzhu) were holding him back so he wouldn't do anything. He only broke free after WLJ asked for WWX'S right hand and begged his mom not to do it. This happened in the novel by the way, not just the donghua or drama, because I know events differ depending on which canon, and I know it matters to some. The important part is that it happens in all versions of canon.

What makes it worse to me than anything I've mentioned before is that he managed to break through that fear I was talking about. When he knew things were really, really, going to get bad. And this scene, it's so important to me, because I know I would have been too scared of what was happening to say anything, but Jiang Cheng did. The fact that he was able to be that brave, in spite of the absolute terror he must have been feeling, in spite of what he must have known would happen, was incredibly important and special to me in the most personal way, because it meant there was still hope out there for someone like me, which I think I really needed at the time I first read that.

And also (I can't believe I have to say something that should be perfectly fucking obvious), blaming Jiang Cheng for not being able to stop his mom is motherfucking victim-blaming!!! Jiang Cheng's as much of a victim as Wei Wuxian is, and he is not and never was responsible for anything his mom did, and there's nothing he could have done at all to stop her the same way I couldn't have stopped what happened with me. Victims aren't responsible for what happened to them, it's the actual person behind those events that is at fault.

#jiang cheng #wei wuxian #yunmeng jiang #twin prides of yunmeng #yunmeng shuangjie #yunmeng bros #okay that's enough emotions for one day #this was meant to be a lot more lighthearted than this wtf #mdzs #mdzs spoilers #mdzs meta #forgot to add those three tags oops #cw: parental abuse

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blu-joons · 4 years ago

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When He’s Anxious To Date Because Of An Ex ~ BTS Reaction

Jin:

Your head nodded as Jin began to tell you all about his previous partner and their relationship with the fans. “I just don’t want you to feel intimidated by the fans like she did and end up running away from it all.”

“I know what I’m getting myself into,” you assured him.

“That’s what she said,” Jin lightly smiled, “but that didn’t stop her leaving me in the end.”

“I won’t,” you vowed, reaching across the sofa to take a hold of his hand, “I know you’re worried about history repeating itself, but it won’t.”

His eyes flickered down to the ground as he let go of a shaky breath, “you don’t know how crazy my life can be sometimes, are you sure you want to give things a try.”

“Of course,” you chuckled, “I get why you’re anxious about it all, I would be too. But they’re your fans, and I’ll respect them, just as long as they respect me too.”

Jin’s hand turned to hold onto yours, “I’m sure the fans will love you; I can tell that they’ll adore you a lot more than they did her.”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about,” you reminded him, “if you get anxious, tell me, and I’ll be right there to ease your mind.”

“You’re the best, thank you for being so understanding.”

Yoongi:

The moment you suggested taking Yoongi to a work’s dinner, he got his back up and began to worry about the past choosing to get at him once again. “Why exactly are you taking me to this dinner, for a reason?”

“No,” you doubted, “I just thought you’d like to join me.”

“For my name?” Yoongi continued to question, leaving you in a state of confusion. “To make friends?”

“What?” You frowned, staring at him in disbelief, “I wanted introduce you to a bit more of my world, why would I invite you for your name.”

His shoulders dropped as he realised how he sounded in front of you, “I’m sorry, it’s just that’s what happened with my ex. I know I shouldn’t be doubting you.”

“Why didn’t you just ask, I understand that it’s a sore topic for you,” you frowned, shaking your head at him. “Rather than just accusing me of something.”

His head nodded, deserving of your scolding. “My mind just went into a bit of a mess; I know you’d never do that because you’re not like her.”

“Exactly, I’m not her,” you reiterated, “I appreciate you have your doubts but just talk to me about it instead Yoongi, it’s much simpler.”

“I’m sorry, I won’t act such a way again.”

Hoseok:

His eyes had been watching you all night long as he introduced you to his friends, knowing that his previous partner hated the boys, he was determined for you to get on with them. “What do you think?” He asked at the end of your night.

“They’re all amazing,” you smiled, “you’ve got great friends.”

“You don’t find it overwhelming at all, do you?” He questioned, allowing the past to haunt him.

“Not at all,” you mused, climbing into the passenger’s seat of the car, “they’re a lot kinder than I ever expected them to be, I’m surprised.”

His head nodded, letting go of a sigh of relief, “most people I introduce to the boys tend to start distancing themselves once they meet all of my friends.”

“I won’t do that,” you replied, smiling in his direction, “sure, it’s slightly crazy to be meeting your friends, but that doesn’t change any of my feelings for you.”

Slowly, the corners of Hobi’s mouth turned up into a smile, “it’s reassuring to know that; I don’t want to end up being hurt again.”

“If someone left you because of those guys, they’re a fool,” you laughed, “I can’t wait to get to know all of your friends better.”

“I’m so pleased that you get along with them all.”

Namjoon:

The first tour of any relationship for Namjoon usually ended up being the downfall, and as it came around for the two of you, he couldn’t stop worrying. “What’s wrong?” You asked as you noticed him daydreaming once again.

“I’m just thinking about going away,” he whispered to you.

“Again?” You frowned, “I thought we talked about this, we knew that this day would come.”

“It’s not just a day though,” he sighed, glancing across at you, “this day is when my relationships always seem to break down, especially my last one.”

Your head nodded as he opened up to you a little more about what had happened, “I always knew you’d end up going away Joon, I’d never use that as a weapon to end things.”

“I’m going to be gone for a while,” he pointed out, but that was something that you already knew. “I don’t want to come home from tour single.”

A light chuckle came from you as you reached for his hand, “I’ll be right here waiting for you to come home, I promise that you won’t come back single.”

“Do I have permission to hunt you down if you do breakup with me?” He teased, tickling the back of your hand as you nodded back at him.

“I give you permission because it’ll never happen.”

Jimin:

He couldn’t help but feel guilty when he cancelled on date night, despite your cheery tone on the phone, there was still a small part of him that worried. “Are you really sure that you’re alright about me cancelling?”

“Of course, I understand that you’re busy,” you replied.

“But this is all so last minute,” Jimin frowned, “if I were you, I’d be fuming right now.”

“I’m not her,” you then spoke up, recognising instantly what Jimin would be thinking about. “I told you before, I understand your job Jimin.”

A heavy sigh came from him as he realised how he sounded, “I’m sorry, I just still sometimes feel like I’m going to be scolded for having to be at work.”

“I’m never going to scold you,” you assured him, “just get what you needed to get done at work and I’ll be at my place waiting for you when you get home.”

Although you couldn’t see, a soft smile graced his face, “thank you for being so understanding about this all, I don’t know what I’d do without it.”

“I’m sure you’ll make it up to me when you’re finished,” you joked, “but don’t rush, take your time and get things done.”

“I’ll see you soon, promise I won’t be long.”

Taehyung:

Your heart broke as Taehyung told you all about his previous relationship and how poorly he was treated, holding his hand throughout his story as you tried to comfort him. “I’m so sorry,” was all you could say at the end.

“There’s no need for you to apologise,” Taehyung chuckled.

“Nobody should be treated like that,” you pointed out, “I’m just sorry that it happened to you.”

“I hope now you can see why I’m a little anxious to date again,” he whispered, “I don’t want to end up going through all of that again.”

Your head nodded instantly, understanding wholeheartedly where he was coming from. “I can sit here and promise you it won’t happen, but I don’t know whether that will help.”

“It does,” Taehyung mumbled, staring down at the floor, “I know you’d never do it, but there’s still a small part of my head that worries.”

You squeezed his hand a little bit tighter, “I’d be more worried if you didn’t still fret about it, how you’re feeling is completely natural Taehyung.”

“You really think so?” He questioned, as your head nodded back at him, “I’ve always been made to feel as if it’s a bad thing.”

“Not at all, and I’ll proof that to you.”

Jungkook:

The article was damaging to anyone, but as you read through it knowing it had been the cause of a breakup in his previous relationship, you understood why. “The second the media exposed us she went, it’s scary.”

“The article is pretty heart breaking,” you noted.

“I don’t want to show it to you to scare you off,” he mused, “it’s more like an introduction.”

“I get it,” you responded when you noticed Jungkook beginning to get frantic, “at least I know what I’m getting myself into I suppose.”

His head nodded, taking his phone back from you. “I don’t want to hurt someone like that hurt her, and I certainly don’t want to put you into that position either.”

“You’re not putting me in any situation,” you quickly assured him, meeting his eyes, “at least I know what to expect whenever our relationship does get found out.”

You could tell he was still nervous as the words uttered from his lips, “do you think you’ll break my heart like she did whenever we end up having to go public?”

“No,” you smiled, “it’s going to take a lot more than going public to even try and get me to leave you, I promise you there’s no need to worry.”

“That certainly helps me feel better.”

---

Masterlist

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andtheyweresiblings · 3 years ago

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Hey! I'm very new in the BruMira ⏳🦋 Fandom and I have a lot of questions! At first, they reminded me a lot of another incest ship I really like (SharpeCest), and it was your post explaining their couple-coding that clicked a lot of things to me. I'm really scared of openly interacting with proshippers.

I was wondering if you could give me few headcanons or ideas about how the family would actually react on 🦋⏳'s relationship. I see a lot of shippers talking about how supportive is the family or they'll eventually grow on them - I personally think Mariano'll be the one to prevent Dolores from exposing them. It's hard for me to see all the fluffiness in the revelation. Actually I think it's nearly impossible.

A twitter user named miramaripOsa created a fanart of Bruno with a black eye after being confronted by Augustín while trying to assure a sobbing Mira who feels guilty about his condition. And it made so much sense to me so much more than anything else I've read about what will happen in this pair's being reveal.

I, personally, headcanon Julieta talking to Bruno about it in a closed room hoping he'll tell her she misunderstood his relationship with his sobrina but he accepts all the accusations and they both sob and cry while she repeats him that they talk about her baby daughter that she is his own blood too, and he asks for her forgiveness that he didn't want it to happen, but when he tries to lean his cheek on her knee but she pushes him away, Pepa enters and while seeing both crying she casts a cloud and they are all crying and soaking up to the bone.

Sorry, for ranting but this ship has so much potential and it has entered a special place in my heart!!!

could you please do those headcanons when you have time? thank you so much!!!

First of all, my sincerest apologies for taking over a month to respond to you. If you are still in the fandom and are wanting to talk to someone about it, my DMs are open! I know how scary it can feel to interact with proshippers publicly.

I'm not familiar with Sharpecest, but I looked up the synopsis for Crimson Peak (that's where they're from, right?), and it looks very interesting. I would be curious to hear your thoughts on the parallels between Brumira and Sharpecest!

Truthfully, before this ask, I hadn't thought a lot about the family's reaction to Mirabruno. Most of my love for the pairing has centered on the liminal space between platonic and romantic their relationship could exist in, and I’ve been hiding in the emotional safety of that ambiguity, so to speak. Of course, this is mostly because I am in the opinion that if the family did find out about them, it would end in tragedy. Especially if there are no other existing Madrigalcest pairings because that would decrease the potential understanding between Brumira and the rest of the family.

I was able to come up with some headcanons once I started thinking about it but because they ended up getting really long, I will be putting them in a separate post shortly. (Edit: link to post)

Thank you for letting my know about the art on twitter. I was able to find it, and I agree with you that it does feel realistic. I'm not going to link the tweet or the twitter account to this post just because I have personally been noticing a spike in an-ti activity around here, so I don't want to make it easier for hate to find this artist, but for those Brumira lovers out there who haven't encountered this artist's art yet, I highly recommend checking them out!

Also, I like your headcanon for the triplets. It would be very emotional and complex for them because it is clear that they all love each other so much. I tried to translate that into my headcanon list, so hopefully you like it!

Thank you for this lovely ask, anon! I love hearing other people's rants and thoughts about these two!

#mirabruno #madrigalcest #brumira #bruno x mirabel #brunomira #family weirdos #family weirdos headcanons #asks #anon #atws #c

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dragon-kazansky · 4 years ago

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Dangerous | Helmut Zemo

AU! Race car driver Zemo 😎

Gender neutral reader

Collage by @realremyd

[Masterlist]

[Previous chapter] - [Next chapter]

I AM SO SORRY FOR WHAT YOU'RE ABOUT TO READ.

Happy Birthday @goddessofmischief03 I'M SORRY THIS IS YOUR PRESENT FROM ME!

Part 8

The pair of you drove for hours. Zemo didn't care about where you wanted to stop. All you had to do was say the word and he would pull over here and there. You had taken so many photos on your phone. Though a lot of them were just of him. Maybe you would get those printed and make an album. Maybe you were just getting carried away.

The evening rolled in. The wicked woman had texted you an hour ago to state what time she wanted to meet you. Zemo had dropped you off, kissing you before letting you go. He left to meet with Sam, hoping to get his forgotten car back home.

You entered the bar. It was pretty empty, finding her wasn't hard. Lucky for you, she was alone. You took a deep breath as you walked over to her table and sat down, but not even offering her a smile.

On the table right in front of her was a file. That scared you. Whatever this was about, she was serious. You tried to keep your emotions at bay as you sat still, hands in your lap. You stared at her.

She stared back.

"You came," she said, almost as if she expected you not to.

"Of course I did, I'm not a horrible person who stands people up. Even if I'm here for nonsense."

She narrows her eyes at you.

"Neither am I."

"You're right. You're just blind," you cross your arms over your chest and ignore the waiter who brings you each a glass of water.

"I'm not the blind one," she hisses after he leaves.

"No? What kind of sick game are you playing here? Tony Stark isn't in love with you. It's all a publicity stunt."

"It's not!"

"See? You're blind to the truth. You're being lured in by the fact you admire him. You have been a fan of racing much longer than I. You have seen Stark win over and over again, season after season. You're in love with the idea of dating a professional racer."

She looks pissed.

"It's all lies. You know nothing. I'll show you who that man really is. Chasing Zemo is a mistake. You'll regret ever knowing him after you learn the truth."

"What truth? What are you talking about?" You try to resist raising your voice.

"This!" She slams a hand over the file.

"What is it? What's in there?"

She hands the file to you. You take it, but don't yet open it. You stare at her. On the outside you look cold, calculating. On the inside, your heart is racing and a million thoughts are running through your head. You're freaking out.

"What had Helmut Zemo told you?" She asks, looking you in the eye.

"About what?"

"About him."

"Not a lot. He is wealthy. Has houses all around Europe, owns a large collection of cars that have been passed down through his family. He doesn't have a large racing background, but he is passionate about cars." You shrug, not knowing what else to say.

"So he didn't you he was a Baron? That his family was literally royalty before Sokovia surrendered in the war? He wasn't even in the county when it collapsed. That's why he doesn't talk about it. His family is dead."

"Why are you telling me this? I know about Sokovia, it was global news. A whole country destroyed in the crossfire. If you have any respect for the dead, you'll stop talking about his family that way," you say, glaring at her.

"I'm not done. Open the file."

You glare a moment longer before you open the file. You look down at the first page you're presented with.

"Who is that?"

There was a photo of a young man. Dirty blonde hair, tall, blue eyes, sweet smile.

"That's Pietro Maximoff," she tells you that name as if you should know who he is.

"Who is he?"

"Pietro Maximoff was a racer."

"Was?"

"He died." She reaches across the table and points to some information below his photo. You can't the words on the page.

Pietro Maximoff

Deceased

Died on impact

Cause: Car accident.

Speculation of foul play by the hands of Helmut Zemo. Car appeared to have been tampered with before hand. Witness testified to sighting of Zemo tampering with car. No solid evidence provided.

You stared at the words, letting them sink in. The woman across from you says nothing as you scan the ink before you.

You swallow.

"It says no evidence was provided."

"There doesn't need to be. He was seen."

"Why who?"

"No one knows. They remained anonymous," she shrugs lightly.

"What are you trying to tell me?" You look at her. It was becoming increasingly difficult to hold back your emotions.

"Baron Helmut Zemo killed Pietro Maximoff because Maximoff was his competition. Zemo has raced before, but his career was cut short after this. Unfortunately there was no actual proof to pin on him, the witness only had their statement. Maximoff was the next big racer and Zemo dealt with him."

You stand abruptly.

"No."

"Zemo is a murderer," she tells you.

"Stop, please."

"He didn't tell you any of this did he?"

"You're lying."

"All the evidence is in that folder."

The tears fall. You shake your head and try to control your breathing. She's lying. She has to be.

"Stark told me everything. He even provided the information."

You shake your head again.

"I don't believe it. Why are you doing this to me? Is this your sick way of getting back at me? This is cruel. This is so cruel."

"It's the truth. You won't find anything by looking up the Baron, but if you look up Pietro Maximoff you'll find the story. Zemo killed a man so he could win. What's stopping him from doing it again?"

"Are you implying he would kill Stark? Are you insane?" You almost yell.

"He has killed a man before. What's once more?" She asks, angrily hissing out the words.

"Please don't do this to me," you plead.

"Read it. Accept it. It's true. They might not have anything solid on him, but you know as well as I that it's true."

You shake your head a third time.

"Look at it. Read the articles." She moves the file on Pietro over and underneath is a newspaper article.

Racing star, Pietro Maximoff dies in horrific accident

Baron Helmut Zemo disqualified from racing season over foul play speculation.

Helmut Zemo to stand trial

Baron Zemo walks free

"He wasn't found guilty of anything."

"I said it doesn't matter! He did it. Everyone knows he did it."

"You can't just give around accusing people of murder," you his quietly. You had sat back down, not wanting anyone to see your rage.

"Open your eyes."

"You don't know him," you say, voice falling to defeat.

"You don't know Tony Stark."

"I know him better than you." You close the file. "Do not ever come at me with this. Unless you have hard evidence that Zemo was there and had done what he was accused of, I won't believe you."

"You say that now, but trust me. You're going to come around," she gathers the file and stands up.

You watch her storm away.

You bite your cheek as tears fall. Taking out your phone, you search up Pietro Maximoff.

Zemo's name popped up several times.

He really has been accused of killing this young man.

Why did your chest hurt so much?

Maybe you should have asked him earlier when the thought crossed your mind.

You continue to sit at that table, ordering a drink mindlessly when the waiter comes over. It's all you have.

You look at the photo of Pietro on your phone. He had to be in his early twenties. Probably the youngest racer you had come across so far.

You sit there for ages, slowing drinking.

Your phone then starts to ring. You stare at the name lighting up your screen.

Zemo👑

Did you dare answer?

Having spent too long trying to decide, it clicks off. You stare at the screen. It lights up a second time.

Zemo👑

He must be worried. Yet, looking at his name flashing up on screen, dread fills you. Yob your phone, leave money for the drink, and make your way out.

The cold air of the night feels sharp and bitter against your skin. When did it get so cold? Or was that just you?

There was no one out here.

You're not sure if you felt glad about that. Your phone rings again. You know he'll be coming to pick you up, especially if you don't answer his call.

You swipe the call button and hold the phone up to your ear.

"Y/N? Thank goodness, you were not picking up. I was worried something bad happened. I'm on my way to you now, are you alright?"

You listen to his worried words. You stand there wondering who it was you were actually talking to.

"Y/N? Are you there?"

There is panic to his voice.

"Zemo..."

"Y/N? What is it? What's happened?"

You just knew he was picking up the speed right now. He was going to do anything to get to you now.

"Have you been honest with me?"

"What do you mean? Of course I have."

Lies. He is lying. That little voice in the back of your mind is repeating that to you. Lies.

You begin to cry.

"Who is Pietro Maximoff?"

Silence.

"Zemo, who is Pietro Maximoff?"

"How do you know that name?"

"Who is he?"

More silence.

You sob into the phone. His silence was an answer. He knew who you were talking about and your mind spiraled out of control.

He's dangerous. Stark was right.

You hang up. You turn your gaze down the street and decide to walk. You needed air.

Zemo was losing his mind. That wicked woman! What had she told you? Why had she brought that up?

When he realised you had hung up, he put his foot down. He had to get to you. He had to explain, he had to tell you himself.

He couldn't lose you. He couldn't.

This is not how he had imagined his night to go. Suddenly, things were falling apart.

@ajeff855 @moonstuffsteve @sky-writes-stuff @lieutenantn @lostghostgirl94 @friday18eo @yaskna @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @gingerwriter97 @lunamooney2406 @wilder-fangirl @nectav @whovianayesha @thesuitkovian @cathrin2405 @deathtothepatriarchy @belle82devart @dxrksxul06 @killeromanoff @alex-the-nb @latenightartist-author @hb8301 @goddessofmischief03 @xxidontwikeitxx @themeanestlittlewitch @scuttle-buttle @fillechatoyante @lucky-luck-lucky @zemosimp420 @avengersofmischief

#zemo #helmut zemo x reader #zemo x reader #helmut zemo #baron helmut zemo #marvel #AU #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier

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its-me-im-coraline · 4 years ago

Text

A tie between us and some hope // E.T.

words // 1505

warnings // a little bit of angst but overall fluff

pairing // Ethan Torchio x GN!Reader

author's note // if you want to be on the tag list let me know. ooof im really feeling like a mess today i hope it does not show on this one, i thought i'd feel better than yesterday but my mental state is worse todays... anyway, my oversharing ends here, i hope you enjoy this lovies!! oh also, i am using some epithets (lol) in italian with the endings in -o because i can not for the love of me find specifically gn pet names on the internet or im just bad at looking but i am tired of only ever using 'amore' lol.

request // yes through a reblog so i will not link it right now

summary // Part three of Secrets and fights and Torna a casa. After Ethan showed up in readers house that night the two have started trying to work on being together again. But there are always new problems to arise.

After that night passed, when Ethan had found himself on his love’s doorstep things started looking up. The man started being more consistent in taking care of himself, finally feeling like his able to breathe, like things were taking their rightful place again. He kept himself and his space put together, finding himself far out of the rut he was put into after the short-lived breakup.

Although things seemed to be better, nothing was yet back to how it was between him and Y/N. The two found themselves constantly around each other, be it little dates around the city- not caring about paparazzi at this point, other times just staying in and cuddling while watching a movie, or even going on a walk some nights, smoking and joking while talking about the deepest and shallowest things the pair could think of. It felt as if the intimacy that was previously been built had not gone away, it was still there, strong as ever, the trust being hard to be built again.

“Goodmorning, dolcesso,” uttered the man, a soft smile on his face as he walked through the open door, a bag of fresh pastries in his hands, the refreshing smell of coffee embracing his presence in the small home.

Y/N, barely awake, but always with a deep love for the pastries Ethan picked up, moved towards him, taking the bag from his hands, humming in appreciation as they opened it, looking at today’s picks. “These smell wonderful, Ethan,” they mumbled before taking a bite from the first one they found.

He smiled a bit, looking at the person before him, mumbling a quiet response. “I always pick the best ones for you, beautiful.”

If it was possible to fall in love with a person again, then Ethan was definitely living that moment when Y/N gave him the stupidest and most childish smile, a spark in their eyes he missed while they were awake.

How could I have said those things to them, he thought while looking at said person enjoying their breakfast standing in front of the small kitchen and admiring the minimal city view. It was not much but it surely was something they enjoyed watching in the mornings or as the sun set. No matter how bad it would imprint on the photos they took, it was a breathtaking view they never got enough of.

Just another thing Ethan loved about them, finding such beauty in something so seemingly insignificant. He loved looking at them in moments like that, knowing how much in a trance they were, too deep in the beauty their eyes took in to say anything. Before the man could stop himself he utter the same three words from a few nights ago, “I love you”.

Y/N’s eyes widened, the information was not new but they did not expect this to be brought up again any time soon. “Ethan - I-I, uh-”

“You don’t have to say it back, cucciolo. I know how I feel, I am very sure of that. You don’t have to be there yet, you don’t have to say it… Not after what I said.”

They took a deep breath at that, one they had not realized they held back, still feeling guilty about their inability to simply say words. It is not that they did not feel it, was it?

It was not the last time this would happen. Only a few nights later, a similar incident occurred, Ethan admiring the person he is in love with, their eyes focused on their book, or at least trying to in the dark light they found themselves, a cigarette alternating from their lips to the ashtray on their side, looking like the perfect view at the side of the beach. Considering how hot the weather had been, the pair and their friends agreed on a field trip, the idea being they would either camp there that night or book a hotel room last minute. No one was going to drive that night, no one had to worry about having some alcohol in their system, so beers were a big thing around them, being passed back and forth.

“Hey, Y/N, do you want a beer?” Asked Victoria, getting up to pick one for her self, the other person nodding before she gave them their beer.

“I’d ask you as well Ethan, but seems you are too drunk on Y/N to drink any more beer,” she commented bringing forth a heatwave to happen on Y/N’s face and causing a big grin to cover the drummer’s face.

“What can I say? Can’t hide that I love them, can I?” Everyone laughed it off, Y/N included, but they felt slightly uncomfortable at the man’s words.

They had thought about it last time Ethan brought his feelings forth, knowing very well how they felt the same. They simply could not bring themselves to say it back. Maybe it had something to do with their life before him, and they would have a hard time saying it anyway, or maybe it had something to do with the loss of trust in the man after the pictures of the two kissing. Did he really love them if he was willing to say those things.

“Stop worrying so much about it, amore,” whispered Ethan, noticing Y/N’s state. “I told you, you don’t have to say it back, every one takes a different amount of time to do that.”

His tone and expression were reassuring but they knew this was hurting him a lot on the inside. So they apologized, looking down, ashamed, unsure… The whole situation created a whirlwind in their mind they could not control at the moment, instead opting for jumping into the cold water of the sea beside them, being sure that a bit of swimming would clear up their thoughts.

The same incident happened a few more times, Ethan never being able to contain his words, justifying it by saying how “I am simply trying to remind you that I meant what I said that night”. But Y/N was feeling pressured, as if the man was giving them a timeline, a reminder that they need to decide or it will be to late. One night, they could not take it any more, so they simply confronted him about it. He had just said it again, thankfully they were alone this time, meaning they could say all that they wanted.

“Why do you keep saying that, Ethan?”

“What do you even mean by that, Y/N?” He was simply taken aback, expecting everything but such anger after mentioning how he loves them.

“You keep saying how you love me, and you simply remind me of it, but man does it feel like you are trying to pry these words out of my mouth.”

“I would never do that and you know it!” Now the man was getting fed up as well. How could they accuse him of such thing?!

“Do I, Ethan? Do you even truly love me?”

“Wha- of course I do! What is this? Where is this coming from?”

“Did you love me when the photos of us came to the public?” They asked, voice now quiet, a contrast to their previous tone.

“What are you talking about amore, of course I did,” he responded just as softly, placing the palm of his hand over their face, swiftly collecting the few tears falling from their eyes. “Why are you crying, my love? What are you thinking?”

Y/N could not take it any more, they broke down in seconds, falling into Ethan’s open arms, soft sobs leaving their lips. “You- you said all those things that morning, a-and,” they hiccuped, “I-I am scared, Ethan…”

Their eyes were cast to the floor but Ethan could still see all the thoughts behind them. He finally realized what was happening, so he placed a kiss on their forehead, prompting them to finish their thought. “Could you really say those things if you loved me?” They whispered, moving away from the tall Italian, eyes cast to the floor and ever meeting his.

“Hey, hey look at me! What I said that morning came from a place of anxiety, overwhelming one at that. It does not mean it’s ok that I said that, of course not. But never doubt how much I love you, Y/N.” He paused for a second, his voice trembling as the words came out.

“Cause I do, and I did, but I could not control my emotions, instead I ended hurting yours. I don’t how many times I’ve apologized, but I will apologize that many more. I am sorry, sorry I made you feel so horrible, sorry for all the things I said, sorry for everything.” He said just as softly as before, hands cupping their face before leaving a deep kiss there.

“I love you,” finally said Y/N, feeling more sure and secure than they have for a while.

tag list: @bieberhoodforever @tabi-toast @ginny-lily @moriro-da-regina @the-killer-queenie @makapaka11

#maneskin imagine #maneskin fanfiction #maneskin #måneskin #ethan torchio imagine #ethan torchio

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herstarburststories · 4 years ago

Text

Calamitous Love

Paring: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: Dean shows up at your house, but this is a calamitous love. Sooner or later, it's going to destroy.

A/N: I was based and inspired by so many things to get this ready, I can't even start pointing them here. This started as something and escalated to something else, and I'm immensely in love with how it is now. I'm posting a version of this through Dean's POV soon. The prompt is bolded and its for @tvdspngirl314's bday challenge! Hope you like it, honey! And happy bday.

Warnings: language, mentions of sex, fluff, angst, dean is a perv in a cute way, s1 dean Ily

Dean Winchester could easily remember how mad you were that night, after he purposely came to your party uninvited and stood on the porch talking to all your stupid friends. How the one you called the best out of them had wide eyes when she caught him there, and all the reaction she could get was him winking at her.

The man - who was more like a boy, really - with green eyes that matched your garden knew she would run and rush and breathlessly tell you that he was there.

Of course she did. Inez was never one for keeping secrets. He used to wonder if it was a matter of time for the blonde to spread yours.

Her loose lips were useful that night, though. He couldn't even finish his chatter about Chevrolet versus Toyota cars with that James guy before you bursted out of the door ferociously. Dean turned around and waited for many things; well-deserved slapping, indignated tears, a sharp scream strident enough to suppress the loud song which vibrated through everyone's skin like veins.

You surprised him once again.

You closed your eyelashes and took a deep breath, as if to control the burning fire behind your thoughts. The Winchester had seen her in arguments before, the whole ‘my mouth is a loaded gun without a trigger’ thing held an entirely new meaning. He knew you wanted to come at him, and Dean wouldn’t put any guilty on you for that. As you walked towards him, his brittle heart raced like one of those chick flick moments he always mocked about - yet, he couldn't help but stare. Your legs looked so good in that light, pretty ass that Dean loved to grab wrapped in a tight red skirt. You had a white tank with cleavage on and your hair was, as usual, free on its widest way. The hunter adored how your brown sea could never seem not to be a mess, and how you made chaos marvelous like a natural. He surely needed that in his life.

Isn’t it all you had been since the very beginning, honestly? Isn’t it what love utterly is when the lights are dim and the weather changes? Cutting right to the bone like a surgeon, you were that one thing, that one hand that would touch Dean’s weary head and make it rest, those unique lips who could whisper tales of hope in the backseat of his car and he could actually believe it. The one, you know, that one person who didn’t make the eldest Winchester feel like he cared more than he was cared for. He often experienced that math problem, dad never seemed to be satisfied enough to be proud of him, and Sam was always talking about how he wanted to leave someday.

‘’Dean.’’ You said and your tone was harsh, a single eyebrow arched with a quiet defying question. The green eyed man wouldn't be shocked if you had called him out before when he was too busy paying attention to you to notice. ‘’Let's go to the garden.’’

And then you grabbed his wrist, sneaking in through the rusting garden gates in the back of your house. Such mere touch put his skin on flames. So many others, mostly monsters or people who were really monsters at heart, already chained his hands and he always broke the cuffs. This time, in your hands, Dean almost wished he could stay put, grounded to something else other than bloody walls and oily guns. He missed you so much. The way your fingers felt on his cheeks, how you'd allow him to kiss every inch of your body, and how you seemed to understand.

Anyway, it wasn't time for him to turn sentimental just yet. Leave it to Sam.

Dean’s boots were cruel against the grass, walking side by side with your high heels ones. Above all the partying noise, they both were quiet for once, as if they were going into a clandestine meeting.

He hated it.

‘’What the fuck are you doing here?’’ you turned around in a swift move before crossing your arms. It took a lot of self control not to glare at your breast, which is why Dean didn’t. He pictured it wasn’t that bed since he was only glancing for a few seconds and the malicious smirk on his face faded into him licking his bottom lip through the memories of fucking, grabbing and playing with them. You rolled your eyes, impressed by my immature behavior. ‘’Winchester, I asked what you are doing here.’’

Always so dominant in every situation but in bed. He sighed to himself, man, I can’t lose her.

‘’Listen, Y/N/N, I’m sorry.’’

‘’You are sorry? You can take your apologies and put them in your sorry ass till’ they come out of your mouth, Dean.’’ And, of course, stubborn. Dean Winchester wouldn't be so attracted to you in any other way. Frisky women always had the best him.

He groaned, ‘’Y/N, come on, it wasn't like that--’’

You interrupted his reasoning with a laugh empty of joy: ‘’You left me. You just walked away. No calls, no texts, just left. You promised you wouldn't. You said I could trust you.’’

‘’And you can!’’

He wasn’t able to blame you for that. Still, it broke him to hear every casual syllable in raw honesty. Dean would kill for you, and you didn’t even trust him because he ran away without any note, or previous warning, or anything. If only he could do the trick of just opening his mouth and allowing his emotions to come arrive, like Sam did all the time. All he tried to be, his little brother was simply born that way. He could never be like Sammy and you deserved a guy like him. Yet, the bruised man - more like a scared boy, really - remained in front of you. Because, for once, Dean wanted to act selfish and get it what he craved for. Just this once.

‘’To leave? Sure.’’ Nonetheless, you never learned how to read his mind, so you just aim a wry smile at him. ‘’Sorry, pal. I already have my mom to do that.’’

In that moment, every word you said was a stone designed to shatter him, and it was working fatefully. Sometimes, the green eyed hunter wished he was the one being left instead of leaving people behind. But how could you know that? It's the job side effect.

Taking a deep breath, your name is leaving his lips calmly. The most calm he had ever been since my three childhood years. ‘’Y/N…’’

‘’No, Dean.’’ You spoke. Because his forest eyes matched a lot with the grass in your garden under that dim light, almost like he was made to be there and you didn’t think you could do it again; lose him. It was too much.

‘’Dang, woman. I'm trying to explain!’’

‘’No, you are trying to come up with a stupid lie to cover up whatever you were doing for two weeks! I'm not stupid and I know you.’’ You accused, exasperatedly slapping your own tights. You were right, he had showed up to your party with a dumb excuse on his tongue, ready to tell you anything but the truth. Fuck, how the short haired hunter wanted you to have the imaginary money to buy one of his cheap lies. ‘’Tell me the truth. Don't come up with my dad needed help with a car and all that. What happened to you, Dean?’’

‘’I can't tell you.’’ He shrugged in frustration.

I want to tell you everything, even the details in the corner, the monster in the forest.

You smile sarcastically, ‘’I don't see a fold on your lips.’’

But I can’t.

Dean huffed, pursing his lips. ‘’You would hate me.’’

You would think I’m a crazy liar.

‘’I already do.’’

You can be so violent when hurt. You both have bullets in different body parts, and there you are trying to shoot him. Modern Romeo and Juliet, a hunter romance; they try to kill each other instead of the evil thing.

‘’Y/N, you are gonna think I'm crazy.’’ He wiped his face, exasperated for you to change the subject.

Your lips were shut, the light reflected on you. Dean was glaring at you in a quiet desire for you to stay, to make him stay. But you stand still, looking away with delicate woe contorting your features.

It was clear after a hunt when the hunter should leave the town. And it was clear now that he killed any hope for them that Dean shall do what he usually does after a case. Nodding with a sigh, started to walk away.

But you stopped him.

‘’What are you doing?’’ You, in fact, sounded confused. Dean’s eyebrows knitted together, unsure if you two were having the conversation he thought you were not even one minute ago.

The answer resonated more like a question than anything: ‘’Leaving?’’

Your next words were the equivalent to the three ones he had never dared to say. ‘’I don't want you to leave.’’

Yes, the Winchester’s heart was pouring as fast as it was when he went on his first hunt. Yes, he could hear an old rock song playing when you have that look on your face. Yes, he knew he was acting like Sammy and all his cheesy discourses right now.

Who cares?

Apart from all that, Dean offered you a cocky smile. ‘’What do you want, sweetheart?’’

‘’Kiss me.’’

And he did. You trusted him in the garden and he got you back. Dean kissed you in the porch in front of all your stupid friends, too. And then he kissed you again in my car under the streetlight and in so many other uncountable places.

He was the person who got left a few years after that. As if his sorrow had become the prey for some cosmic joke. Sammy left for Stanford and it made his dad, well, more dad than usual. The weird thing was, inside of the grief of being left, Dean understood what he did to you. He had a lot of blood in his hands, enough to turn an ocean red if he ever tried to clean them, but I knew that leaving you was the worst thing that I had ever done.

Well, at least that was what two bottles of Whiskey helped him to get to.

Dean guessed he got what you felt on your porch that night as well. When he walked in, you knew you'd forgive him but you needed to sting back. As Sam left, his older brother already knew he'd forgive him, too. Dean fought about it, and I felt betrayed- wounded animals still attack. But he had forgave him the moment he missed him.

You forgave Dean too, and nowadays he resented for that with an insufferable regret. Because then he told you the truth about the world and showed you his scars. He kissed you, and your lips found every ugly in him. Still, they kept asking him for more. Your lips were the bed for my monster to sleep under.

Real monsters found them.

A few years later, the trio was in a town. You had a vacation from college - you dated a hunter with 5 bucks to his name, and you were studying journalism in a conceited university. It made no sense to Dean sometimes. All you asked for was to spend your free time with him and a call each night to make sure he was alive, which he gave you happily. Besides finding a way to go near your city at least once a month, more for himself than anything else. How did he get so lucky?

You liked certain aspects of the hunter life, surprisingly. The driving away, the creatures, even the restaurants. ‘’Come on, you guys hunt monsters. How cool is that? Also just driving, eating in a new place everyday. Did I mention monsters are real? You guys are like heroes!’’

He shook his head at your optimism, stroking your naked form gently that night.‘’We aren't here, Y/N. This life, it ends early and bloody. There is no place for white fancies and normal.’’

‘’Who said that I want that?’’ You mocked right before pressing your lips to the hickey on his neck, gaining a content groan from Dean. ‘’You monsters. As far as I'm concerned, you are a hero. My hero.’’ You add a subtle joke. ‘’Like a fairytale.’’

He scoffed and pulled you closer. ‘’More like a horror movie.’’

‘’Haven’t you read fairytales?’’

‘’No, but I did see the porn version.’’ Done with talking, he got on top of you, wearing that lopsided grin that started it all over again.

Years back, he asked you what you wanted. And you said, kiss me.

You kept saying that for a decade. Growing that calamitous love, feeding it with stolen glances and touches. If you knew what’s next, would you do it again?

Now you are laying on the ground as he got on my knees and pulled you closer. You are almost dead, a half lifeless body, but you hold on so tight to life, gasping for it. His stubborn girl who he loved so.

Your voice, usually so determined, is barely a whimper. ‘’Everyone wants a fairytale love.’’

‘’What? Don’t get sentimental on me, Y/N. You aren’t gonna die.’’ Dean says exasperated. It isn’t blind faith, unrealistic optimism or anything like this. It’s denial, one of the stages of grief he’s familiar with. It lives with him, as loyal as a dog, as present as a long lost mother’s love; he ignores the acceptance and hope, jumping right into anger, guilt, denial, and bargains with the devil. As if death is a champagne problem he can just drink and be done with because hey, if you can’t lose something, then you won’t right? Right? And if you do lose it, then you’ll just die too. Someone loses oxygen, they die. Someone loses too much blood, they die.

He will die if he loses you, he will. Dean is devastatingly sure of that. He can feel it in his bones. If you die, he dies. His body, his cicatrized soul was made out of in woe. That man - scared little boy like he was when Mary died, really -, He knows sadness like an old lover who always visits, and death is an old friend who always shakes his hands and appears without an invite. Dean Winchester knows pain, alright? Ask any person, he’s the Rome for men, built in ruins despise the beauty of good.

But this? No. He can’t survive. It isn’t possible that someone can hold so much suffering and agony. Skin and bone can only take so many hematomas.

‘’Dean, shut up.’’ You place your hand on his cheek and Dean can’t help but lean in. His green eyes are glistening, the memory of the garden reminiscing in the back of your mind. ‘’I’ve wanted a fairytale love since I was a kid and my dad used to read the books my mom left on the shelf for me. So, in my defense, I never actually read them.’’

‘’Is this what a fairytale looks to you?’’ The eldest Winchester asks, not missing how your touch is colder against him. Where’s Sam with the car? Where’s a miracle? Where’s the justice and fair things and anything good? Dying in his arms, sinking her fingernails into his skin.

‘’The original ones, yes. They are just like that.’’ You chortle, but what’s meant to sound like happiness develops into a cough. All the energy and strength you have are used to push the words. You need Dean to know. ‘’I don't regret anything. You loved me, and I loved you. This is good. I don’t want your silly little mind to think any other way. You aren’t the villain in my story, Dean. You are the…’’ You’re interrupted by your own body giving up on you at an alarming rate, more bloodstained coughing.

‘’Don’t speak, honey. You’ll be alright, okay? No goodbye, we don’t do goodbye. You’ll be alright. Just keep yourself awake, ok?’’ Dean doesn’t know what to do other than hold you. What does one do with all the throbbing aches? He can’t say he will see you in heaven if you die. Staying with you for ten years was heaven already and this is the price he pays. That’s like when the ocean drains in a flash right in front of your eyes and someone tells you to swim in the sky instead. He can’t jump high enough to get it, he isn’t tall enough to get it. But God, Dean can’t just give up, he can’t just let you go. You are bleeding out and he’s dying with you. ‘’Please.’’ The Winchester pleas. ‘’Don’t leave me. Please.’’

If this is how you die and you can only pick up some words to say, you need to spell love. You need Dean Winchester to know he was loved with your last breath, there’s no better use to life other than love. Therefore, it’s easy to know what to voice when you look into his eyes one last time. ‘’I love you.’’

Through the agony, Dean gives you the sort of smile... You know, the sort of smile that can only be described by I put my home on fire, so I could eat all the flames and all the bright blaze is in my teeth now. Because something is burning and you are becoming ashes, but you love this. You love that boy and he loves you. You’d do it all again. He rests his forehead against yours and you can feel his tears on your face, his hands holding you for dear life.

‘’I love you too.’’

It’s a good thing to hear as you close your eyes.

Comment & reblog. Feedback is magic! Check my masterlist ♡ Tags in reblog!

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #allyswritingevent #dean x reader #dean x you #supernatural #spn #dean winchester imagine #supernatural imagines #spn reader insert #dean winchester headcanon #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester x you #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles imagine #jensen ackles imagines #dean is straight

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smol-jinyoungie96 · 4 years ago

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Devil Judge - Episode 5 (i’m not okay)

Right! So review timeeeee this is a long one lol

I love the opening. Facts

This man clearly carries a lot of burden but he loves his brother so much.

Watching the first part made me wonder if they are trying to make the viewers think if he really killed his brother and is guilty, hence the nightmares of his dead brother standing in the middle of his room, or is it because he feels guilty that he was only able to save Elijah and himself… either way they kinda show us that there is guilt somewhere in him.

When Elijah comes to his room she says about him not waking up like that before, could mean that Ga On’s presence is worsening his guilty conscious, or from my perspective, i just think that 10 years worth of forcibly trampled down trauma is threatening to explode.

Devil judge or not, no one can control that amount of severe trauma for long.

Next point! Kim Ga On is so sweet with a kind heart, he initially joined the court to spy on Yohan but just based on him clawing open unhealed wounds, he feels so deeply for Yohan to the point he is willing to quit the bench just so Yohan doesn’t have to look at him and see his brother’s face every time.

He tries to relate to Yohan on an emotional level that they both feel due to losing their loved ones. But a few things that I noticed is that when Yohan says,

“I certainly don’t want to hear that from someone that looks like him”

Again, being called the devil judge or not, but having someone who shares the same face as his brother accusing him of killing the said brother has to hurt deep down.

2. “I wonder how much you’ve discovered”

To me, i think that Yohan knew from the beginning that Ga On was looking into him, and yet he has Ga On in a place where Bambi himself admits to it.

3. “I don’t remember asking you to understand me”

I feel like he is intentionally pretending to push Ga On away because he knows that Bambi will do the exact opposite. It is literally in Ga On’s blood to always try and sympathise with anyone who has any sort of emotional baggage. He knows he can lure Ga On more towards him if he pushed the right buttons.

One part that stuck to me the most is when Ga On says

“hunters mask their scent completely, until the time is right”

Could it be foreshadowing?

It could hint towards him fooling Ga On to believing him until it is too late for Bambi to realise because well, Ga On falls for any heartbreaking story.

But at the same time it is also similar to the way Yohan is so close with the rich socialites to win their trust until the time is right for him to finally reveal that he is in fact a hunter and they’ve been his prey all along.

When Ga On leaves Yohan says that “it’s weird because I’ve never experienced that before”

That, being another human being connecting to him on such a deep emotional level and that’s something he hasn’t felt for almost ten years.

The way he talks about Ga On relating to him with an expression of awe makes me think that it could also be a fact as to why Yohan has this obsession with Ga On.

The minister’s interview was a clever way to show the people that despite being a mother she is a person who has her duty towards the country as a priority but also wanting to make the public question Yohan’s morals.

Please look at his fond little smile,

it’s a genuine reaction to Ga On tricking him into eating proper food by mentioning wrinkles and his age 💀 but also, signs to say that the little annoying pest is growing on him.

The scene with Ga On and Soo Hyun, they talk about the fire and there’s one line that Soo hyun says,

“The list of attendees to the ceremony was covered up, that’s not something Kang Yohan could’ve done 10 years ago. That takes controlling the press and prosecution”

A clear indication that someone who held power over both media and the prosecution was involved in the accident.

Everything Ga On has seen so far after he joined the live show has terrorised him so much but he is still worried about Soo Hyun because he has seen things that she hasn’t.. even when she’s a cop.. even when the reason she became a cop in the first place is because she want to help him and to keep him out of trouble.

Their bond is so pure and cute.

THE TRIAL

The beginning was so cute with the sweetest welcome back to Ga On and then there’s Yohan giving him a fond smile as if Ga On was actually on death’s doorstep and not snooping around his house arguing with a nanny about not being sleeping beauty..

The case was a set up from the get go. It was just a trap from the beginning to push Yohan to a corner.

They wanted him to have no where to turn to when prosecution suggested “physical castration” (gross) because if he gave into the requested sentence,

they would very easily twist it into making him look like a sadistic monster and if he didn’t give in and went with the 20 years of prison time requested by the defendant,

that would make him look like just another person who doesn’t bother with taking people’ opinion into consideration. Which would make his own statements from the first episode wildly contradicting to what he went with.

Even the stupid lawyer tries so hard to push him to this corner by repeating “this is what the majority wants” but Kang Yohan is definitely smarter than they give him credit for because he puts the pieces together as soon as Jung Sun Ah sets foot inside the court room.

I love that Ga On as a judge as come to a point where he genuinely relied on Yohan as to what they were going to do instead of directly challenging his authority like he had done in the first case. Another sign that Ga On is starting to trust his boss.

Jung Sun Ah thinks! That she has him helpless but then this man turns the whole game upside down. (Even here, it’s really just a game in the name of justice, it is a power play between two sides)

If the minister and Jung Sun Ah thought they were a step ahead of Yohan, he definitely proved that he is ten steps ahead of them when he gave that sentence.

I completely adore the trust Ga On and Jin Joo has on their boss. Especially the way Ga On shares a real relieved smile with Jin Joo and the way he looks so relieved that things weren’t going to be as bad as he thought.

Teen Ga On was definitely a delinquent. The sight is just ✨

Another important point is that just when he learns to trust his boss, now he is struggling,

Because from one side there’s Kang Yohan asking him is he’s going to stand by him or stand against him,

And on the other hand there’s the Chief Justice asking him to choose between being an accomplice or an informant.

They’re both essentially asking him to pick a side and it looks like they’re pulling him back and forth between themselves. He’s struggling because as much as he wants to stand by Yohan, he can see that Yohan’s approach to justice is being adapted by the public,

For an example when those three kids were playing, it gives him a notion that the barbaric flogging system is now being used as a playing method by kids.. kids. It genuinely seemed to scare him that the way those kids were laughing and smiling while playfully hitting the small boy.

Kim Ga On is shown as this impulsive, level headed judge with a black and white sense of Justice but he too carries a lot of pain and burden similar to Yohan. But in his case, he’s being put on the spot between the two sides, eventually it will be him who has to face the consequences if he chooses the wrong side.

And being on the wrong side of Kang Yohan doesn’t really seem to be the smartest thing at the moment.

Going back to Kang Yohan and Kim Ga On, i like the way Bambi calls Yohan out for implying that being a monster is better than being a victim when he’s not brave enough to face his own pain.

That genuine shock on Yohan’s face is enough to show that Kim Ga On is really out there pulling out this man’s traumas one by one like he’s pulling out grass from the ground.

Again it shows how much Yohan is suffering inside because ultimately, that mansion is just a giant nightmare for him.

JUNG SUN AH/KANG YOHAN

first of all.

CONSENT!

i felt bad for Yohan.

But Jung Sun Ah is really obsessed with him to the point she jumped from the second floor just because he said he to, when Yohan came to a place of power, she worked herself to her own place of power. Her obsession with him runs too deep.

Tomorrow’s episode is already making me nervous because i feel like Jung Sun Ah is going to use Soo Hyun to drive a wedge between Yohan and Ga On.

If he did his homework on Ga On. I’m sure she has done hers as well.

More or less, Episode 5 was like the calm before the storm.

Unsurprisingly, i hate storms.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for listening to me ranting.

Please send help

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ladyfogg · 4 years ago

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Heal My Wounds - Part 1

Heal My Wounds - Part 1 of 3

Fic Summary: After you meet the infamous Kit Walker, you realize that he cannot possibly be guilty of everything they say he is. Determined to treat him with kindness and compassion, you end up falling hard for the handsome man with gorgeous dark eyes. But you both are playing a dangerous game and you must decide just how far you’re willing to go to save the man you love. Part 2. AHS Masterlist.

Fic Rating: 18+

Fic Song: War by Poets of the Fall

Pairing: Kit Walker/Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Smut, Slow Burn, tw: mental illness, tw: asylum setting, tw: violence

A/N: I ended up finishing this a lot quicker than I thought I was going to. Enjoy! For @tatestripedsweater and @kitwalker02.

You’ve seen many things during your time at Briarcliff. Being a nurse, you deal with truly awful alignments, either self-inflicted or acquired under “mysterious” circumstances. This usually means that a guard roughed the patient up or Dr. Arden can’t be bothered to treat them himself. You learn to expect the worst, not in the patient but in what they are afflicted with. In truth, your heart goes out to every one of them. Regardless of what sent them to Briarcliff, it is always your mission to treat them with the respect and dignity they deserve.

Which is why, when you hear that the infamous Bloody Face, aka Kit Walker, has been transferred to the asylum, you try not to be concerned. You knew all about Bloody Face and what he’s done and when they arrested Kit, you aren’t ashamed to admit that your first thought was, “Good riddance!” However, you force yourself to change your tune once you learn you’ll be treating him at some point. Plenty of dangerous people had come and gone through Briarcliff’s doors. You aren’t going to treat him any differently than you would the other patients.

No matter how dangerous he is.

It isn’t long before you find yourself face-to-face with him. He is there less than a day before he’s brought in to see you, his lip and his nose a bloody mess, the red a stark contrast to his pale skin. His appearance surprises you even though it shouldn’t. You read the papers; you’ve seen his face. Yet, in person, he’s so handsome it takes your breath away and you need a moment to compose yourself.

“What happened?” you ask Kit as the guard forces him to sit on the bed. He is bound with cuffs and chains, an overkill if you ever saw one.

“He got into a scrape with another inmate,” the guard says in a gruff voice. “Bloody Face here got the worst of it.”

“They’re called patients, not inmates,” you correct him with a glare. “And I wasn’t asking you, I was asking Mr. Walker. That is his name, that's what he will be called while he’s under my care.”

The guard, whose name you think is Hardy, looks taken aback by your words. He is a new one who hasn’t had to deal with you yet. While many of the female staff are nuns, you are not. You are there purely for medical purposes, not religious ones. Therefore, you have no reason to force politeness to the guards. After all, why should you? They never show you any. The sooner Hardy learns you will not tolerate his bullshit, the better.

You have been talked to by Sister Jude several times regarding your attitude but since you are appointed by the state, there is nothing more she can do. Eventually, the both of you came to a mutual understanding. In fact, you suspect she admires your non-nonsense attitude as it most often gets results. If there is a patient in your infirmary, you can call the shots. Of course, the male guards don’t like that, but they can get fucked.

When you turn back at Kit, he has a surprised look on his face.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” you ask.

“Just my face,” he answers. “And my hands.”

You glance down and see his bruises and bloody knuckles. Clearly, he defended himself but given the fact that the other patient hasn’t been brought it, you assume Kit got the worst of it. You go about collecting what you need to disinfect his wounds.

To Hardy, you say, “Remove his chains.”

“No can do. Not for this one.”

“His knuckles are bleeding, and I need to examine his hands to make sure nothing is broken or fractured. Remove his chains.”

There is an intense stare-off between you and the guard before he relents and unbinds Kit. Once his restraints are gone, you wave Hardy off. “You may step outside.”

“Now hold on a minute! This man—”

“Has rights. He deserves the same privacy as every other patient. Besides, I won’t have you getting in my way while I patch him up. You can step outside and wait. I’m more than capable of handling myself.”

Hardy snorts, annoyed and done with arguing. “Fine by me. Don’t complain if you get killed.”

“I won’t, considering if that happens, I won’t be able to. Or are you not aware how death works?”

With a sneer, he stalks away, and you heard him mutter, “Stupid bitch.” under his breath.

“Smart bitch actually,” you call after him. “And shut the door on your way out, please.” It slams behind him and you return your attention to your patient.

Kit looks at you with awe. “Forgive me for saying so, doc. But you’re one tough broad.”

You laugh, pulling a chair over so you can sit in front of Kit. “I’m not a doctor, I’m a nurse. And you have to be though, especially in this place. The gentle don’t last long. Now, let’s take a look at those hands.”

Kit extends his hands, and you take them in your own, examining his wounded knuckles. After moving each finger and his wrists, you determine there was nothing broken or fractured so you set about cleaning the scrapes. Kit watches you the entire time. Even though you don’t look up from your work, you can feel his eyes on you.

“I think you’re the only person in this place who’s not afraid of me,” he says after a stretch of silence. “This is the first time I’ve been treated like a person since this whole thing started.”

“Should I be afraid of you, Mr. Walker?” you glance up and are immediately taken in by the soft expression on his face.

“Call me Kit,” he says. “And I never hurt anybody. All the things they say I did are lies. I have no idea what happened to those girls and I have no idea what happened to Alma other than they took her.”

You consider his words for a moment and pull away, letting his hands fall to his lap. The bloody towel you hold is tossed onto your tray of supplies before you sit back and cross your arms. “Alright then, Kit. Tell me why I should believe you.”

Kit doesn’t seem to know what to say at first. You’ve dealt with numerous patients who swear up and down they didn’t do what they were accused of. Most of them had. Because of that, you are pretty damn good at reading people because even the best liar has a tell. An eye twitch, a knee bounce, a lip bite…anything. You trained yourself to look for these things because, in your line of work, it means the difference between life or death.

The man in front of you doesn’t look like he’s hiding anything. More to the point, you don’t feel scared of him. You aren’t made of stone; you feel fear just like everyone else. You are simply better at masking it. However, that violent vibe you’ve learned to sense doesn’t radiate from Kit and as you look into his deep brown eyes, all you see is fear, frustration, anger, and sadness. They all pass one after another on a loop.

“I don’t have a reason,” Kit finally says after a long pause. “If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t believe me either. But you showed me kindness no one else has and I’m grateful. Really.”

“I think this place wouldn’t be half as bad as those colleagues of mine showed a little kindness too.” You go back to work, cleaning his hands. “This is going to sting a bit.”

Kit flinches as you pour alcohol over his cuts. Carefully, you clean them some more before you are sure they won’t get infected. Once that’s done, you wrap them in bandages.

“There, good as new. Just try to keep those bandages dry for a bit. You can take them off tomorrow to let the cuts breathe. Let me make sure your nose isn't broken.”

Kit remain still as you gently cup his face, turning his head left to right in order to take stock of his injuries. Being so close, you realize how handsome he truly is. That jawline is to die for, and his dark curls looks so soft, you want to run your fingers through them. Once that thought entered your brain, you scold yourself. He is your patient and is in the asylum to see if he is fit to stand trial for murder. Thinking about him in any way other than professional is a dangerous game. And very stupid.

“That bad huh?” Kit asks with a slight smirk.

It isn’t a malicious one by any means. In fact, it’s almost hesitant. Like he is afraid to be so comfortable joking with you. You don’t blame him considering what he has gone through. You offer him a smile in return.

“Just a split lip and it doesn’t look like your nose is broken. It’s not even swollen. There shouldn’t be any permanent damage.”

You grab a fresh towel and dip it in warm water before gingerly cleaning the blood from his face. But before you can get far, Kit reaches up to stop you. Instinctively you freeze, worried that you may have hurt him. Maybe his nose is worse off than you originally thought?

“Did I hurt you?” you ask.

Kit shakes his head. “No, I’m just…” He pauses as if he’s not sure what to say next. “I’m sorry but I just...why aren’t you scared of me?"

“You really want me to be, don’t you?”

“What? No! Of course not. I’m just…” He stops when he sees you holding back a smile. “You’re messing with me.”

You shrug and go back to your work. “A little,” you admit. “But to answer your question, I’m not scared of you because I believe you. I don’t think you killed or even hurt anyone. I just don’t sense that sort of evil in you. As for what you claim to have witnessed, that I don’t know about. But I do know crazy, Kit Walker. And you’re not it.”

It is like the remaining tension leaves his body and Kit slumps against you, a few tears running down his cheeks. Without thinking, you pull him into a tight hug, letting him rest his weary head on your shoulder. The warmth of him is invigorating and you savor the feeling. It’s been a long time since you’ve been touched in any way. Long work hours make your social life non-existent and you carefully keep your distance with your patients.

Except Kit, it seems. You don’t know why your well-constructed walls are crumbling under the weight of one interaction with one man.

“You have no idea how much I needed to hear that,” he says, his voice muffled by your uniform. “No one will listen. No one believes…”

“I’m listening. But first, sit back before you get blood all over me.”

With a weak laugh, Kit pulls away. He wipes the tears with the back of his hand which you’re grateful for because you were about two seconds away from gently brushing them away. Pulling yourself together, you continue to clean his face while he tells you his story. It’s definitely strange. The idea of being abducted and probed was one you’d rather not think about.

But you don’t just listen to his words, you watch his expression, pay attention to the tone of his voice and his body language. Even though you’ve heard some of it through the papers, it’s different hearing it from him directly. Once he’s done, you’re even more certain he didn’t kill anyone. No one who talks about their missing wife that softly and heart felt could possibly be a vicious serial killer.

It’s his eyes that give him away. There’s so much emotion and depth, you can’t help but believe him. You wish you can explain it, but some things are beyond explanation.

“You sure I’m not crazy?” Kit asks when you don’t respond to him right away.

“After that story, you’re absolutely batshit.”

He chuckles when he realizes you aren’t serious. You pull your hand away, finally done getting rid of all the blood, but he stops you with a gentle touch to your wrist. “Thank you for listening. I could tell you weren’t judging when I spoke, and I appreciate it. I appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”

“It’s not my place to judge. Only heal.” You sit back, breaking all contact with him, hoping it’ll clear your spinning head. “There. Now you’re just as handsome as you were before. Do me a favor and at least try not to get majorly hurt again for the rest of the day?”

“He started it.”

“Everyone always starts things here. And given your current situation, it’s best to keep your head down as much as possible.”

“What’s the point? They’ve already made up their minds about me being guilty,” Kit says bitterly as you roll your tray over to the sink. He sees a pack of cigarettes on your desk and nods towards them. “Mind if I have one?”

You wave for him to go ahead as you clean up. “I wish I had words of encouragement for you. I wish I could say it will all work out. But unless they catch the real Bloody Face, your choices are either here or the electric chair.”

Kit pops a cigarette in his mouth and lights the end. “I have to see the state-appointed shrink. My last hope is to convince some head doctor that I’m not crazy.”

Your heart goes out to him. His situation really is a double-edged sword. If he proves he isn’t crazy, then they are sure to send him to trial and his death. If he keeps spouting off about strangers abducting him and his wife, then they will keep him at Briarcliff. Either way, he loses. It isn’t fair.

“Stick to your story,” you tell him. “If it’s really the truth and that’s really what you know happened, then stick to it. I mean, it’ll probably get you confined here for life. But at least you’ll be alive.”

“Yeah, but at what cost?”

You don’t get to respond. The door bursts open and Sister Jude strolls in with Hardy right behind her. You wonder how long he waited outside before running to tattle on you.

“Why is this patient not restrained?” she asks in that stern voice of hers.

“I needed to clean his hands and couldn’t very well do that when they were bound,” you say. “He’s all set now.”

“In the future, I would appreciate it if you would leave the door open. No young woman should be alone with this one,” Sister Jude says, motioning to Kit. “Not until he’s been properly medicated.”

“He deserves just as much privacy as any of us do when being medically treated.”

“Not here. Not under my roof,” Sister Jude counters. “I like you, girl, but don’t push me on this. Kit Walker may have the looks of an angel but he’s far from it.”

“She didn’t do nothing wrong,” Kit says angrily.

Sister Jude motions for Hardy to grab Kit. Anger courses through your veins when you see how he is manhandled. “Hey, be careful! I don’t want to have to treat a dislocated shoulder,” you say.

Kit sends you a grateful smile which Sister Jude unfortunately notices. She steps up to him and in a low voice says, “Quit your leering! You don’t fool me, Kit Walker. You can keep spouting that innocent act all you’d like but I know there’s darkness in your soul.”

Kit’s body tenses and you see him clench his fists in anger. The nun yanks his cigarette out of his mouth and puts it out on your desk.

What a bitch.

As he is led away, Kit dares to look back at you and you see the glimmer of another smile before he is gone. The empty room suddenly seems more so without him there. It’s strange how comfortable you feel around him, especially considering the circumstances. After cleaning up the remnants of his cigarette, you sit back at your desk. But focusing is not in the cards for you. The rest of the day, you find yourself constantly sidetracked by the handsome brown-haired man with the deep brown eyes. So much so that you get angry with yourself.

You are hardly ever swayed by just a pretty face. Then again, there’s more to Kit than that. Although, it certainly helps. The way he stood up for you even when he was in trouble spoke volumes about who he is a person. You don’t think there is a selfish bone in that man’s body.

The next day during meds, you don’t see him in the Day Room with the others. It suddenly occurs to you that after the fight the day before, he probably was thrown in solitary. You hate solitary being used for any of your patients but the thought of Kit in a small dark room, bound and alone makes your heart break in your chest. All you can do is hope he’ll be out of there soon.

At least three days pass before you see him again, mostly because you spend most of that time in the infirmary rather than in the common areas. It’s early morning and you are enjoying a rare moment of silence when the door opens, and Kit is led in. He’s bleeding from a cut on his forehead, which has already begun to bruise and swell.

“What happened?” you demand as you leap to your feet.

The guard, a brute named Dixon who you can’t stand, forces Kit onto one of the beds. “He slipped and fell.”

You doubt it. Your eyes slide over to look at Kit, who gives you a subtle shake of his head. “Oh really?” you ask Dixon, narrowing your eyes in distrust. “This seems like a pretty big bump just to happen from a slip.”

“Just treat him so I can get him back with the others,” Dixon orders.

“He hit his head. I’m going to have to keep him here for a few hours to make sure he doesn’t have a concussion.”

“Fine.” Dixon shoves Kit until he was laying on the bed. When he reaches for the restraints, Kit fights back.

“No! Let me go!” Kit struggles against him.

“Those aren’t necessary,” you declare, crossing the room to try to stop Dixon.

But the guard isn’t having any of it. The next thing you know, he pushes you away, hard enough that you trip over your feet and fall right on your ass.

“You son of a bitch!” Kit exclaims. He leaps up and punches Dixon square in the jaw.

What happens next is a flurry of blows and swears as the men fight each other. Knowing this can only end poorly for Kit, you manage to get back up before prying the two apart. “Enough!” you snap. “No fighting in my infirmary!”

Dixon is practically snarling as he wipes blood from the corner of his mouth. “You don’t scare me, Bloody Face. If I had my way, you’d be in the furnace by now.”

Kit makes a move to go at him, but you stop him with a hand on his chest. “Mr. Walker, lay down so Dixon can bind you. If you don’t, I know the right injection that’ll make you so tired, you’ll wake up next week.”

Kit’s eyebrows knit together as he looks at you with concern. You throw him a subtle wink. Breathing heavily, he sits back on the bed and allows Dixon to restrain him. Even though it pains you to do so, you help to keep up appearances. But you don’t tighten them as much as you should. Kit’s jaw is clenched as he watches Dixon’s movements, as if he’s waiting for him to attack again.

Once Kit is secured, you reach into your pocket. Unbeknownst to the guards, you carry around a sharpened scalpel for your own protection and the second Dixon lets his guard down, you press it to his neck, making him halt his movements.

“Listen here, you sick fuck,” you growl. “If you ever lay a hand on me again, I’ll shove this so far into your neck you’ll have to take your meals through a tube. Are we clear?”

Dixon sneers and takes a step back. “Whatever you say, woman. Call us when this psycho is ready to go back to his cell. And I’d be careful who you threaten. You wouldn’t want to end up like one of your patients, now would you?”

His threats send a chill down your spine, but you keep your hand steady, the scalpel still pointed at him as he backs away. It’s not until he’s out the door that you cross the room so you can lock it behind him.

“Are you alright?” Kit asks the moment it’s clear the two of you are alone.

You cross the room, pocketing the sharp instrument as you go. “I’m fine, Kit. Don’t worry about me.” As quick as you can, you undo his bindings. “Sorry about this. I fucking hate using bindings, but it was the only way to get Dixon to leave. He’s got a nasty streak in him; I’d stay clear if I were you. Are you okay? What happened to your head?”

“That asshole smashed my face into the wall,” he says as he sits up, rubbing his wrists. “He caught me wandering out of the Day Room.”

“Now why would you go and do a stupid thing like that?” you ask, hands on your hips. “Didn’t I tell you to keep your head down?”

“I just needed some peace and quiet. On my own terms and not in a dark dirty cell. Besides, others wander. Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because the others aren’t wanted for murder. They mean to make an example out of you, Kit.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

You sigh and head to the icebox in the corner of the room. As you put together an icepack for him, you say, “These guards will look for any excuse to get rough. And they especially have it out for you. You have to be careful.”

“I hate this. I hate all of it. I feel like I’m going crazy. My head is so cloudy, and I can barely feel anything.”

“Those are the meds. Meant to keep you docile.” You carry the ice pack over to him along with supplies to fix up his head wound. “And suppress other impulses.”

“It’s inhumane, that’s what it is.” Kit barely makes a face as you clean the cut and dress it. “How am I supposed to defend myself if I don’t even feel like me? I think I’m slipping, doc.”

“I told you, I’m not a doctor.”

“Well, what should I call you then? You never gave me your name.”

You tell him your name and press the icepack to the bump on his head, “Here, hold this. Your nose is bleeding…again.”

Kit does as he’s told. After a moment, he says your name. It’s soft and beautiful coming from his lips and you can barely focus long enough to hear his question. “Can I confess something to you?”

“I’m no priest or nun.” You start to dab at his nose with a damp towel.

“It’s not that kind of confession. I wasn’t just wandering for the sake of wandering. I was trying to come see you.”

You pause, heart pounding in your chest as your eyes flickering up to meet his. “Why?”

“I feel safe here.”

You go back to your work. “I’m glad you do, but I don’t want you to get yourself hurt just to see me.”

“I didn’t know that asshole was gonna beat the shit out of me just for wandering.”

“Say you have cramps.”

Kit raises his eyebrow. “What?”

“If you want to see me…I mean, come to the infirmary, tell a guard or one of my assistants that you have cramps or a stomachache. It’s something most people don’t question since stomach stuff is really common, ‘specially around here. It usually comes with vomiting or diarrhea and no one wants to deal with that.”

Kit smiles. “Good to know.”

You finish cleaning him up and add, “But don’t overuse the excuse. Otherwise, if something is really bothering you, they won’t listen.”

“Understood. Do you really think I have a concussion?”

“No. Your eyes are clear and you’re not slurring your words. I figured it would at least give you a little reprieve from everything out there.”

Kit’s smile widens. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Although, I will have to at least keep your feet bound. That way if the guard comes back, I can quickly bind your hands before they enter. The lock will only temporarily slow them down since they have keys.”

“Hey, if it means spending time here with you instead of out there with everyone else who thinks I’m a vicious murderer, I’ll take it.”

Once you have him settled in the bed, you give him a cigarette before going about your daily routine. It is nice having Kit there. Occasionally, you talk as he smokes, but for the most part, the both of you enjoy each other’s company. He asks you about yourself, minor things, nothing too personal or probing, which you appreciate. You feel like he’s also trying to keep some distance between you, understanding your position and what a friendship with him could mean.

A few hours later, when you hear footsteps coming your way, you quickly bind Kit’s hands.

It takes a second for the door to be unlocked but then it opens and Dixon enters just as you’re pretending to check Kit’s bandages. “Walker here needs to see the shrink,” he says gruffly, crossing the room towards you.

“I was just about to call you.” Your lie is so effortless it even impresses you. “He doesn’t have a concussion. You can take him.”

Dixon is rough as he unbinds Kit and yanks him off the bed. To his credit, Kit doesn’t fight back or resist, understanding the stupid rules he needs to follow if he’s going to get anywhere in this place. Once he’s gone, you start to wrap up for the day, finishing any last minute tasks before getting ready to go home. As you’re straightening up your desk, your eyes catch the medication logbook, and an idea strikes you.

Sitting down, you flip through the pages, taking a look at the medications that are prescribed to each patient. At the bottom of the list is Kit’s name and, with a quick flick of your pencil, you manage to subtly cut his doses in half. It’s not much. You wish you can outright stop giving him the meds but that’s impossible. Hopefully, this way he’ll start to feel like himself.

You expect to be worried or guilty for what you’ve done. But honestly, you don’t. It feels right. Far too many patients have lost themselves in Briarcliff and you’re determined not to let Kit be one of them.

---

Kit’s world is not even recognizable anymore. One day he’s home with his beautiful wife, the next, she’s gone, and the police are accusing him of murder. He sees those damn creatures every time he closes his eyes, hears that loud noise echoing in his ears. If it’s not that he’s hearing, it’s the screams of the other patients.

When he saw you for the first time, heard you snap at the guard for mistreating him, he thought he was still dreaming. You have to be a dream. Nothing that good or sweet can possibly exist in this place. The way you look at him makes him feel seen for the first time in months.

He can’t get you out of his mind. After that initial visit, all he could think about was your warm embrace and the concern in your eyes.

To have someone care enough to worry about him meant everything. Especially during such a dark time. Trying to sneak away to see you had been a stupid idea but one he thought was worth the risk. He needed to know if he would have the same feelings each time, the same security and comfort. Do you really believe him or are you just a great actress?

The second time, you’re just as kind and generous as the first, and Kit knows that he is in trouble. A different kind of trouble than he already is in. This one is emotionally based and has the potential to end very badly.

Kit knew himself well enough to recognize the signs that he is falling for someone. You have only known each other a short while but already he can’t get you out of his mind.

The day following his first appointment with Dr. Thredson, he sees you in the Day Room and has to stop himself from immediately going over. It’s clear you’re busy, making the rounds and checking in on the other patients. Kit watches from a distance, smoking a cigarette as he leans against the back wall. Your kindness extends to everyone you come in contact with. He watches with admiration as you sit patiently with Pepper, checking on the small scrapes and abrasions she has.

You smile and his breath gets caught in his throat. Fuck you’re gorgeous.

Curiously, Kit watches as you slip something into Pepper’s hands before moving on to someone else. It turns out to be a small chocolate, which Pepper immediately devours before going back to her book. Kit smiles.

You catch each other’s eyes across the room just then. It’s a charged moment, like nothing in the world matters but the two of you. He makes a move to walk towards you, unable to help himself anymore. But then meds are called, and the moment is lost. Kit stubs out his cigarette and gets behind Lana as everyone lines up for their medications.

“This is bullshit,” Lana mutters under her breath. “Not all of us need medication. I don’t like that they force it on us. Makes my head all foggy.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?” Kit asks, echoing your sentiment from the day before. “Keep us under control.”

“I have a point. One I’d like to shove right up their asses.”

Kit snorts at Lana’s blunt phrasing. At first, she had been weary of him but now the two have developed a mutual understanding. Neither one of them belongs there and it’s better to support each other than fight. The line moves and Kit watches you join your assistant to make the medication process go faster.

When it’s his turn, you hand him his cup and briefly, his hands touches yours. It’s like a bolt of electricity shoots through your fingertips and into his, coursing through his veins at such a speed it makes his head spin. On the outside however, he remains calm, bringing the cup up to his lips to knock back his meds. Except, he notices they look slightly different than the days before. His eyes briefly dart to yours and there’s a subtle change in your expression. Your eye closes just enough to seem like a wink without fully being one.

Kit downs the meds with less hesitation than before.

Sadly, he can’t talk to you after that. Once meds are distributed, you go back to the infirmary and he’s left alone once more. Briefly he considers faking a stomachache to see you again, but your warning is still ringing in his ears. The fact that you offered him the excuse was risky on your part. He doesn’t want to get you in trouble by overstaying his welcome in the infirmary. Even though he is curious about the medication change, he lets it go.

It’s not until he’s in his room that night that he realizes he’s feeling clear-headed. Usually, once lights out comes around, the meds have him so loopy he rolls over and goes to sleep. Or at least tries. This time, however, he feels more like himself. Of course, that also means he’s more aware of the dark and the loud screams, but once they subside, he’s left with silence and his own thoughts.

She must have lowered my meds or something. She’s fucking amazing.

Kit smiles, curling onto his side as he allows himself to think about you without worry or fear. Again and again your meetings replay in his mind and when he closes his eyes, he can almost smell the scent of your laundry detergent and perfume. The way your soft hands gently held his made him flex his fingers instinctively. Those lips of yours…he’d given anything to kiss them.

Kit’s eyes fly open when he feels his cock swell. It’s been so long since he’s felt any kind of sexual desire even before being medication. It’s a wonderful change of pace, however now he has a slight problem. Kit feels ashamed of himself for thinking of you sexually. All you’ve done is show him kindness and he’s thinking about doing all sorts of things to you. With a frustrated sigh, he rolls onto his stomach and tries to ignore it.

This turns out to be a bad idea. The pressure of his body against the hard mattress causes wonderful friction and Kit finds himself pressing his hips down for some semblance of relief.

Fuck it, he thinks, shoving his hand in his pants. I need this right now. I need her.

It’s been a long time since he’s done this himself. It takes a second to find the right angle and rhythm. He stays on his stomach, arching his back just enough to give his hand room as he jerks himself off. Burying his face in his pillow, he bites down to stifle his moans as he pictures you in your nurse’s uniform. The way it hugs your frame suddenly assaults his vision. When you had leaned over him to check his head, he had caught just the barest hint of cleavage. Then, he had purposefully closed his eyes to be respectful.

Now, it’s all he focuses on, thinking about how he’d love to run his tongue across your salty flesh while his hands cupped your tits. He’d bury his nose in your skin and inhale your scent before kissing and sucking every bit of you he could reach.

Would you moan his name? He bets you would, and he bets it would sound fucking fantastic.

Kit grips himself tighter, speeding up his movements as he keeps the fantasy going in his mind. Suddenly, the angle is too constricting, and he rolls onto his back, biting his bottom lip as he hand brings him closer to coming.

He pictures it being your hand. Pictures him laying in that hospital bed, you leaning over him and jerking him off as you watch his face. He thinks of you telling him to come for you and as soon as that thought crosses his mind, he explodes, coming all over his own hand as he quietly moans your name.

Sweating and panting, Kit lays there in his bed, heart racing and head spinning. He uses his blanket to clean himself up, tossing it onto the floor before curling into a ball. He expects the shame or guilt to hit him any moment, but he can’t find it in himself to feel either. All he feels is aching in his heart for the real thing.

The next morning, when they open the cells, he remains in bed. Once he hears the guard come closer, Kit begins to moan in agony, clutching his stomach.

Thankfully, Hardy is the one who check on him. Ever since you told him off, he’s been mostly tolerable to Kit. At least to his face.

“What’s wrong?” the guard asks.

“My stomach,” Kit moans. “I think…I think I ate something bad.” When Hardy kicks Kit’s soiled blanket aside, he adds, “Wouldn’t touch that if I were you. I felt real sick last night.”

Hardy wrinkles his nose and gestures for Kit to get up. “Come on. I’m taking you to the nurse.”

Laying on the theatrics, Kit forces himself up, still hunched over with his arms wrapped around his stomach.

You’re sitting at your desk when he enters. The morning light is filtering in through the barred windows and it catches you ever so slightly. Enough to almost make Kit forget he’s supposed to be in great pain. When you see him, your face grows concerned.

“This one is moaning about a stomachache,” Hardy says. “Where do you want him?”

To his dismay, Kit notices you’re not alone today. There’s a patient asleep in one of the other beds. You’re out of your chair in a second, pressing one of those soft hands to his forehead.

“He’s burning up.” Your ability to lie so smoothly makes Kit admire you even more. “Here, let’s get him on this bed right here.”

Hardy and you help Kit onto one of the beds in the corner of the room, one that’s hidden behind a divider. “I’ll keep an eye on him,” you say, tucking Kit in. “It’s probably just food poisoning. I’ve told the cook a million times they need to store the food better.”

“Think he needs to be tied down?” Hardy asks.

“No, of course not. Have you ever dealt with a patient who’s tied down and soiling themselves? My job is hard enough as it is. I won’t be dealing with that today.”

Kit makes retching noises if for no other reason than to see Hardy grow pale and uncomfortable.

“Oh, you better go before he starts up,” you urge, shooing the guard away.

Kit keeps up the act until he hears the door close and you turn to him, giving him a wide smile. “Wow, bravo. Great work, Kit.”

He smiles, sitting up. “Thanks. Maybe I’ll have a shot as an actor when this is all over.”

You chuckle and glance over at your other patient to make sure he’s still sleeping before sitting on the chair by Kit’s bed. “How are you really feeling this morning?”

“Better, actually. Do I have you to thank for that?”

“Well…it did seem overkill to have you on such high doses of medication when you aren’t mentally unstable. I’m sorry I couldn’t take you off them completely.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Kit says, reaching out to lay his hand over yours. “If anything, I’m sorry for you having to take that risk. I don’t want you to get in trouble, or worse, because of me.”

You look down at his hand and he immediately draws it back, worrying he may have crossed a line. There’s something in your expression that puts him on edge. He can see that you’re struggling, which only makes him feel worse. He berates himself for foolishly giving into his desires. Already things are tough, and the future is scarily uncertain. He’s on the hook for murder for fuck’s sake.

Before Kit can continue the self-deprecating spiral, you surprise him by carefully getting out of your seat and sitting next to him on the bed.

“Kit…” you say. “This friendship between us…I don’t know if it can continue.”

Kit’s heart sinks and he looks away from you, his gaze now fixated on the floor. “I don’t blame you,” he says. “It’s not safe being near me in any way. Honestly, it was stupid of me to come here like that. As much as I like spending time with you, I never want to put you in a compromising position. I’ve seen these guards and I know how they treat women. You’re in just as much danger here as I am.”

Your hand takes his, and he snaps his head up to look at you.

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” you say. For the first time since you met a few days ago, he hears the slightest crack in your voice. “I’m worried because, if we continue this friendship, I know that for me, one day, it might not be enough.”

His heart speeds up at your confession. Kit can’t believe his ears. The fact that you are feeling even the slightest bit of the attraction to him that he’s been feeling for you is enough to give him the sliver of hope that’s been severely lacking over the last few weeks.

Kit hesitantly links his fingers with yours, giving you every chance to pull away. You don’t. When he says your name, his throat is dry, and he has to clear it before he can go on. “I have no right liking you as much as I do. I don’t believe in God, but I can’t help but think that you’re my damn guardian angel. Because of you, I’m actually starting to think that maybe there’s a way out of this. Or at the very least, staying here won’t be so bad so long as you’re here.”

Your gaze softens and you look away, trying to hide the tear leaking out of the corner of your eye. With his free hand, Kit reaches up to wipe it away with his thumb. He can’t stop himself from cupping your cheek, needing to feel the warmth and softness against his palm. You shut your eyes, leaning into his touch, a shaky exhale escaping through your parted lips.

Your lips.

Kit’s eyes can’t look anywhere else. They look so inviting. He bets they’re just as soft as the rest of you, maybe even more so. Without even stopping to think what he’s doing, he starts to lean in, so slowly that you don’t seem to notice until you open your eyes to meet his. You pull your head back. Not abruptly or angrily, but enough where he gets the message to stop. Kit sighs with disappointment at the refusal. But a second later, you’re leaning in this time, at the same achingly slow pace he had been before.

Your lips brush and there’s a heated charge that soars between you, making you pause before you even properly get a kiss. Your eyes are wide as they meet his, searching for the same thing he’s looking for in yours: permission, acceptance, desire.

Kit closes the distance.

With one hand still cradling your face, he kisses you deeply, drawing your body as close to his as he dares. He feels you melt under his touch and it urges him to keep going, to keep kissing you, to deepen the kiss so he can savor the intense waves of desire washing over him.

You let him, opening your mouth so that his tongue can glide along yours.

It all becomes too intense for the both of you and you have to break the kiss, panting as your foreheads rest against one another’s.

“This is such a bad idea,” you say, the breathlessness of your voice making Kit’s cock twitch. “We have to be smart and we have to be careful. If we really can’t stay apart, then you have to listen to what I say and follow my instructions. Okay?”

“I can do that,” Kit says. He’d honestly agree to anything you say at that point. “Trust me, baby. I know the stakes.”

“Me too.” You take a deep breath and pull away, breaking all contact with him. It immediately leaves him cold and wanting more. “My assistants will be coming to collect the meds any moment. I need to go prepare.”

You reach out to cup his cheek and Kit holds your wrist, keeping your hand there for another moment so he could savor the contact. The way your eyes soften at him only makes him want to kiss you again. Instead, he settles for a peck on your palm before letting you fully pull away.

As you stand and collect yourself, you take a step towards the divider before you pause and look back at him. “No one can know, Kit. Not if you want to stay under my care. If anyone finds out there’s something between us, they’ll transfer me somewhere else and I won’t be able to protect you.”

The fact that you’re scared for him in this scenario and not yourself makes Kit want to throw you on the bed and ravish you. “I promise, I will find a way to clear my name,” he says. “Then once I’m out of here, I’ll take you away. Far away where this place can’t reach us.”

You smile and reach out to stroke his cheek again. “Easy there, Mr. Walker,” you tease, stroking his bottom lip with your thumb. “Keep talking like that and I may think you’re already falling for me.”

He watches you walk away, only one thought on his mind. Too late for that.

#kit walker #evan peters #ahs asylum #kit walker x reader #kit walker x you

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years ago

Text

Unfinished Business ~ Part 3

WORD COUNT: 3.9K

WARNINGS: Mentions of mafia, strong language, murder, blood

PAIRING: Bang Chan X Reader

DESCRIPTION: Part Three of nine of my new Bang Chan series.

You’re taken hostage but one of Seoul’s leading mafia families Bang Chan but he doesn’t take you because he wants to fake a marriage or make you fall for him in 365 days no…He wants to use you for his own personal gain. To take over another family but when you try to escape things take a turn for the worst and you learn Chan isn’t one to be messed with.(Please I suck at describing stuff)

THEMES: Smut will be included in a later chapter so this is a fic for a mature audience, Chan x Fem!Reader, Self insert

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

The next morning you woke up to the door squeaking open, signaling someone was coming into the basement once again. You opened your eyes to see Minho walking down the steps towards you with a plate in one hand and a bag in the other.

"Chan said eat and then get changed." You stared at him as he placed the plate down onto the coffee table and dropped the bag on the floor.

"Why?" He ignored your question. He didn't get orders to tell you why he was doing what he was doing, just that he was to do it. He came over to you dropping onto his knees and unlocking the chain that kept you against the wall, you rubbed your ankle as soon as the chain was gone but held eye contact with Minho as he made his way over to the door.

"Not poisoned." He said coldly pointing in the direction of the plate - it wasn't his preferred way of killing someone anyway - you didn't bother rushing over to it, you slowly got up from the floor and checked the bag. Inside was a floral high-low dress with a black background, it wasn't your style at all. You preferred jeans instead of a dress that had been given to you but you needed to get out of the clothes he'd taken you in. You felt disgusting about being in the same clothes for the last 48 hours now, you kicked off the jeans and panties before finding the new ones and changing into everything that he'd given you.

"You look wonderful," You almost jumped out of your skin hearing a voice come out of nowhere you turned to look around at the door - it hadn't squeaked like the other times and Chan was standing in the entranceway to the basement wearing a black suit and looking at you.

"Thank you, you look nice." You didn't know how you were supposed to act around him or why you were now being treated like this but if it meant getting out of there soon you didn't care.

"I have a proposal for you and I hope you'll consider it...come." He held out his hand and gestured for you to walk towards him so you got up and limped over to him. He was like an entirely new person than the one that had come into you last night, your ankle was still sore from the chain so it took you some time to get over to him and he frowned at the sight of you. Guilt rushed through him as he realised the reason you were limping was that it was his idea to keep you chained up but he kept his face normal not wanting you to know he felt guilty. The boys had originally suggested locking you up in one of the many bedrooms but he thought this would be better so you knew he meant business.

"I'll get you an ice pack." He took your hand in his and walked you out into the hallway, it connected straight into a huge kitchen where all seven of his men were watching you closely.

"Nice to get out of the playpen?" Changbin joked looking you up and down before turning to look at Chan who was staring at your ankle,

"She needs ice." You followed Chan through to the living room and he sat you down on a white sofa, picking up your ankle and sitting it on a glass coffee table. You stared around the room, everything looked so expensive. Everything was white, spotless, practically everything was either marble or glass.

"Here," The cold compression woke you from your daydream and you looked to see Chan holding a bag of ice on your ankle right where you needed it.

"Thanks," You whispered looking from his hands up to his face, trying to study it while he was busy doing something else. He looked like he was annoyed about something but you couldn't place your finger on what it was, you hissed when he pushed on your ankle a little too much and he retracted his hands and handed you the bag of ice for you to do it yourself.

"My proposal... I erm..." He turned his head to see all of his henchmen watching him closely,

"Don't you all have something to be doing," They scrambled in different directions and you giggled as one of them slipped on the floor, Chan shook his head at them and turned to you to give you his attention.

"The proposal I'm offering...It's not an offer, you take it or you die." Your pulse quickened and your hand froze as you heard the words leave his mouth.

"Die?" He nodded getting up from the sofa and walking in front of you, he looked at you.

"You'll be staying here indefinitely, and you're not going to want to stay in the basement the whole time I suppose. So, I suggest we make your stay here as easy for you as possible." You were still trying to get your head around the fact that you would be staying there 'indefinitely' as he had said.

"Why am I staying here? I don't work for those people-"

"I can't prove that and neither can you. You will stay here, step in as someone I need around the house. I'll take you out when I need you, you'll attend the most luxurious of parties and you'll never work another day in your life." You blinked at him wondering why he was offering you this when the previous night he'd locked you in a basement and told you that you couldn't be trusted.

"You won't be left alone though, you will have a personal guard assigned to you to watch over you when I'm not around-"

"Why?"

"For protection-"

"No I mean, why me? I-I ruined your suit, you had me kidnapped, accused me of being a spy and now you want to keep me as a pet?"

"You intrigue me," He licked his lip and looked at you up and down,

"I do?" He nodded,

"I don't expect you to comply which is why I'll warn you now," He came closer to you and was so close to your face you could feel his breath on your skin as he stared down into your eyes,

"If you try to escape I will find those you love, it wouldn't be hard, and I will kill them, don't test me, darling." He would have a hard time doing that considering everyone you ever love or loved was dead but you nodded along to what he was saying. Already coming up with a way out of the hell hole. There was always a weak one in the chain, you just had to find who it was and play him like a violin.

"You'll stay?" You could have sworn his voice went up an octave as he heard you say you agreed to stay, and it did. He was genuinely happy that you were going to stay with him, there was no denying he found you attractive and wanted to get to know you more.

"Great, I mean...Good. I'll have a spare room made up for you." At least you would have your own room instead of being forced into sharing with him or locked up in the basement until he decided to kill you.

"Jisung!" You flinched as his voice screamed through the air and you looked at Chan who was now yelling in the direction of the kitchen, out came Jisung wearing a black suit. He stared at Chan and waited for orders.

"You'll be looking after Y/n. You don't let her out of your sight." Jisung nodded his head at what Chan was saying and then turned to look at you.

"Is there anything she needs to do?" He was talking at you but not to you, as if you weren't there.

"No. I'll have a whole new wardrobe custom made for her." Chan was now walking out of the room and out of the front door, as soon as it was shut Jisung relaxed and sat back on the sofa.

"What sort of things do you like to do, you're going to be here a while I'll get you something to do." You stared at him, finding the weak one was now easier. He'd just offered himself up to you on a silver platter.

"Reading, painting, anything really." You told him while you looked at him, you were trying to figure out an angle around this without coming across as obvious to him.

"How long have you been working for Chan?" He looked up at you, staring into your eyes trying to figure out what was wrong with you. The whole time you'd been in the basement you'd come across as cold and quiet to each of them and now you were talking to him as if you were friends.

"Three years, how long have you worked for Namjoon?" You folded your arms over your chest you didn't even know who Namjoon was just someone you'd seen in the papers and Jisung started chuckling at the disgusted look on your face,

"You'll hold up well here. Chan seems to like you, come on." He jumped up from the sofa and nodded over at the stairs,

"What's up there?" Your voice came out shaky and he smirked knowing you were scared of what was happening, it was a good thing. If you were scared you wouldn't run and you would make everyone else's job easy for them. No one would have to worry about you trying to run away or trying to call the police - not that you could, they were all under Chan's payroll.

"Mostly the things you need to stay busy, there are also some bedroom paints in the attic and I'm sure Seungmin won't mind helping you paint at some point." You stared at the back of his head while you walked, your head glanced over at the front door as almost as though he knew what you were doing he spoke out,

"It's got a thumb lock, it also has a keypad password which only Chan knows the lock to...You're stuck here doll face." Your face fell flat and you followed him silently, not wanting to say or do anything else.

Jisung had warmed up to you after a while, you began to question him on things that were around the house. There was a lot of art that looked homemade and he told you that Seungmin and Jeongin were the ones who were most creative with arts.

"What about you?"

"I prefer music, but we're not allowed to play it around the house." You stared at him as you sat in the kitchen, you were sitting on the kitchen side with your legs crossed, the dress was pooled in your lap to cover anything that could have been showing.

"No music?" He shook his head and handed you a cup of tea you'd asked for it when he offered you something.

"Why?" He looked at you and then around the kitchen as if Chan could possibly be able to hear him from wherever he was,

"It upsets him, his wife...She er- I mean someone-" He stopped himself from talking knowing it wasn't his place to talk about it

"It's okay." You could tell he was uncomfortable talking about it and you didn't want him to talk about it if he was going to get into trouble for it, despite being kidnapped by him he seemed really sweet and understanding. The nicest one beside Jeongin in the group,

"Your room will be done soon, do you want any specific colours?" He'd taken you to the attic but there were none that you liked.

"Could I go with you to pick them out, I'd feel better that way." He stared at you blankly and you knew it was a no from the moment he locked eyes with you.

"I'll write some colours down." You whispered, staring down into the liquid inside of the cup, you almost felt bad for what you were going to do to him to get out of there.

"Gardening...I used to love gardening as a kid. Can I do that here?" You'd already spotted a greenhouse out of the bathroom window, you'd tried to climb out but the gap was too small for even Felix to climb through.

"There's an old greenhouse in the garden, I'll take you once you finish your tea." You smiled kindly at him and began drinking the hot liquid and trying not to look too excited to get out of the small confines of this house, it wasn't small but you knew you were trapped so it didn't help you at all.

"This is the greenhouse? Looks like it hasn't been touched in years." There were overgrown weeds everywhere, and there were empty plant pots homing spiders. The truth was you probably couldn't keep a fake plant alive but you were already out here now, Jisung flipped a plant pot over and you could have sworn you heard him gasp when he saw a spider rush out and out of the door.

"You think you can make this place nice again? We used to go outside and have barbecues together. All of us together, Chan would cook." You could tell he missed the old Chan but you didn't push him for answers.

"Sure, am I allowed out here though?" He started laughing,

"It's not as though you can climb the 12-foot wall." You laughed along with him while staring at the wall, it was easily done...If you weren't in a dress and trying not to run for your life.

"I'm sure it'll be a nice surprise for Chan though, to see you warming up to this so quickly already. At least he won't have to kill anyone. He hates it."

"He does?" Jisung hummed and you bent down on the floor picking up plant pots and started putting them into a larger one to make it look as though you were doing something.

"He hates taking away a life that doesn't need to be taken. But don't get me wrong he will do it," Jisung was an idiot, he didn't realise it of course but he was an idiot but in the best kind of way for you.

"Why does he do it- Why do any of you do it?" He shrugged his shoulders and helped you move an old table from inside the greenhouse to the side of the wall without realising it, as long as you kept him engaged in conversation this was going to go easier than you expected.

"It's just a job, good pay. If we don't someone worse will...Someone else already is, we aren't the only mafia crew here." You knew that you'd be stupid if you didn't know that. The mafia ran everything within your city.

"What have you told my other boss and Mrs Lu?" You questioned, your mind going back to her in that small cafe running things alone without you there, Sid wouldn't care much he'd have plenty of other girls willing to take your spot as lead barmaid.

"You're on a holiday, she doesn't believe us. She knows Chan and what he does so she's probably assumed you're dead or working for Chan which I mean you kind of are...Let's just go on from here assuming everyone thinks you're dead." You nodded slowly and headed back into the greenhouse.

"I need some soil,"

"I'll check the shed, stay here." You watched from the door as he disappeared into a small brick shed, as soon as the wooden door shut behind him you took off in a sprint, jumping onto the table and hoping the wall. Thank god for your school forcing PE upon you or you would have died trying to do this, you jumped down and landed on your ankle wrong.

"Fuck." You whined out looking around, you were in the middle of nowhere, nothing but trees surrounding you, you hadn't thought this through at all. You had no idea where you were, you could have been in a different city by now.

"Y/N?!" Shit, you got up from the floor and rushed into the direction of the trees, limping as you tried not to put too much pressure on your bummed ankle. You should have waited, but you realised now that it was too late, there was no way you were scaling that 12-foot wall without a table behind you.

"Y/n?! I know you're out here! Come to me and you won't get hurt, Chan won't have to find out and no one will die because of you." Because of you. Those words cut through you but you continued trying to find your way through the trees but everything looked the same. Every single branch was the same as the other and there was no clearing for you to head into. There was light coming and you ran towards it, a road light. You were almost out, all you had to do was follow the road down until you could find someone but you heard Jisung practically singing your name and you stumbled falling onto the concrete road right in front of a black Porsche, it's brakes slammed and as soon as the door opened you'd wished it hit you.

"What do we have here? Far from home are we darling?" You looked at Chan, he walked over to you and squatted in front of you. He tutted as he looked at your dress which was now ripped, covered in mud and leaves from bushes you'd rushed past and then down at your ankle.

"You ripped your dress and look at the state of your ankle." He brushed his hand over it and you cried out instantly as he then grabbed it tightly pulling your body towards him so he could look into your eyes.

"What did I tell you would happen if you ran off?!" You started tearing up as he tightened his grip, when you didn't answer him right away it annoyed him. You'd been so cooperative until this point and now he was going to have to do something he really didn't like doing, he tightened his grip some more.

"People would die!" You screamed in his face and he scoffed at you,

"Screaming at me won't get you anywhere, baby girl." He let go and stared at you taking in a deep breath before sighing.

"We'll get you home and dressed, get you some ice and you can come to my office. Jisung!" Jisung came out from the trees and Chan nodded down at you.

"Bring her to my office when she's changed." Jisung nodded and bent down to pick you up, but Chan shook his head.

"You may help her walk but don't carry her." You whimpered as your foot came into contact with the pavement once again, the smallest amount of pressure was starting to hurt you now after what Chan had done to your ankle.

"If you'd have just listened, baby girl, no one would have to get hurt." You ignored his comment and he got into his car letting you and Jisung walk the three-mile walk back to his mansion.

"Ah, see. Here she is. What did I tell you, Mrs Lu? She's healthy and safe." Chan said with a bright smile on his face, you walked into his office in a clean white dress with Jeongin by your side who was quick to shut and lock the door after you both. You already hated the fact that she was there and you knew what was going to happen to her and you knew it was your fault.

"Chan. I won't do it again. Please." You pleaded with him, tears already welling up in your bloodshot eyes, Chan's smile quickly disappeared when he turned to look at you.

"I gave you strict rules princess and you broke them, no second chances." You swallowed the lump in your throat as your eyes travelled to the desk, there was a knife sitting there and you let the tears fall down your cheeks.

"I'll never do it again, I promise Chan. It was an accident. Please." Your voice broke and Mrs Lu stared between you, confused by what was happening. She had no idea what was about to happen and that she was about to be killed.

"Hug her." He ordered you and you looked over at Mrs Lu, not knowing what to even say to her. Sorry? Sorry seemed like the best option.

"She has a husband!" You yelled at him but Chan didn't care. Why should he care? The mafia that killed his wife didn't care when they slaughtered her for information on him.

"Y/n," You whimpered as you heard the calm tone coming from Mrs Lu, she was too young for this she was only 75 years old, way too young for any of this to be happening to her. She took your face in her hands and wiped the tears from your cheeks with her thumbs as she stared into your eyes.

"I'm fine. Don't do anything stupid okay? If you can, Mr Lu, he doesn't know where the coupons are so you need to tell him, you need to tell him where my will is too." You nodded at her and she kissed your nose before looking at Chan.

"Does she at least get to be out of the room?" Mrs Lu questioned, she knew what was about to happen to her now that you were being told to hug her goodbye, Chan shook his head, he knew deep down he felt awful for doing this but if he didn't you would just try to leave him again and he didn't want that he couldn't have you leaving him again. He picked up the knife and Jeongin grabbed you tightly from behind pulling you into his chest to the side of the room. You closed your eyes tightly as soon as the knife was drawn back. It wasn't like the movies, there was no kind of sound effect, just the sound of gargling and broken sobs as you opened your eyes to see Chan lying a white cloth over her body.

"Red is a really good colour on you." You looked down at the white dress you were wearing which was now splattered with her blood, your face had a couple drops on it but Chan's shirt was covered in it as if someone had dipped it in the blood.

"Take her for a shower, Felix is on first shift for the night. You won't try anything else will you?" You stared at the blood on the floor it was all that took over your mind, watching as it began seeping into the carpet and leaking towards his feet, kind of like red wine on the floor.

"I'm talking to you." He titled your chin up to him with the knife coating your chin in more blood,

"I won't try it again." You repeated to him and he smiled happily that you were finally planning on staying, leaning down and giving you a kiss on the cheek.

"Go to sleep darling, you've had enough excitement for today." Jeongin's grip on you loosened and you limped out of the room towards your bedroom.

"He doesn't want-" Felix was trying to justify what was happening but you weren't about to let him get away with this.

"Want to kill? Because to me, it looked like he enjoyed that Felix!" You snapped at him before he could talk, the younger boy looked taken back but you didn't care. He was probably just like Chan and Jisung, cold-blooded and didn't care about anyone else but themselves.

Tagline: @moonprincessdiviniation (My wonderful and beautiful editor) @taestannie @kneel-begyourpardon @calling-dips-on-j-hope @hugs4chan @ncitythoughts @inseonqt @cloudsgathering @peachyhan

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