nagi who’s been in a relationship with you for 5 years now but still treats you with so much love.
nagi who always goes out with you when you are invited to a party even though he’s not a huge fan of them.
nagi who watches over you and how much you drink.
who can’t help but smile when you pull him out to dance.
who takes pictures to look back and cherish the moment.
whispers how cute and pretty you are into your ear just to see your flustered self.
tells you when he’s leaving you to go to the restroom and gives you a forehead kiss.
who catches you as you stumble walking toward him after having one to many drinks.
worries about how many drinks you’ve had and tells you not to drink so many.
you tell him it’s fine and you aren’t even drunk yet although you are stumbling all over the place.
who find your hiccups cute as you blabber on and on about who knows what. 
“the-n uh she kissed him and the-n hu got together ahh so cuteee~” you let out another hiccup, “stupid hiccups don’t uh let me hu talk!”
he creases your hair, “don’t worry i understand you~” clearly he doesn’t but he wants to reassure you.
has his arms around your waist to keep you close.
once it’s time to leave he’s already taken off your heels and carried you bridal style out the door.
“love youuu~ let’s get married….” nagi smiles, “okay maybe next year then.” you squeal, “really..?” nagi shakes his head no.
you pout and try to leave his grasp. “no i will walk a good future husband will carry their lover.” nagi holds you tighter, “okay okay next year then just wait?” you grab his face and plant a big kiss on his cheek almost nibbling on it.
you giggle as you lay your head on his chest.
who opens the door and sets you in the passenger seat, placing a blanket over you and throw up bag next to you just incase.
who laughs at your random sleep talking.
carries you out the door and changes you into something more comfortable for bed.
takes off your makeup and gives you kisses as a reward for staying still.
“stay still and i will give you another one.” he says as you immediately freeze in place only to feel his lips onto yours again. he giggles and cuddles you until you both fall asleep.
a/n: my first fic (woop woop) hope you all enjoy. i'm working on making my fics more detailed but here it is!
wc: 602
the window crept open as vanitas swiftly pulled himself through and made his way inside the room. he closed it behind him and drew his curtains closed. a content sigh left his mouth as his shoulders fell slack. today’s mission was particularly labor intensive, his body was tired and sore from the strenuous activities he had to endure.
he slipped off his outer coat and let it fall slack against the floor, along with all his other extra garments. he’d tidy it up in the morning. not long after he took his shirt off, his vision was blocked briefly. a squeal left his mouth as he whipped around trying to figure out what happened. standing behind him was the vampire he swore on his life he couldn’t stand. noé gave him a warm smile.
“hey vanitas, you’re back earlier than usual?” he stated softly as he fixed the pajama shirt he slid over the human’s head, smoothing out the fabric.
still startled, vanitas swatted noé’s hands off of him, like an angry cat, “i- why are you back so early?”
“domi and i cut our meeting short because she had some business to attend to,”
the shorter sighed again as his whole body now went slack. they both knew he wasn’t really. he was just so utterly frustrated from today’s mission and it was blatantly evident in his features. noé’s never seen anyone get so tense. a faint smile snuck onto the vampire’s face and he embraced the other gently in his arms.
“come, let’s lay down. you look like you need to calm down and destress.” noé grabbed vanitas’ by his wrist and led him to his bed, and didn’t argue at all. he slowly wrapped his arms around noé’s neck and laid his head on his shoulder.
the vampire sat down and leaned back a bit with vanitas still in his lap. usually at this point, he would’ve crawled to his own spot on the bed, but he just sank deeper into noé. he smiled to himself as vanitas mumbled,
“‘dont feel like moving right now…and you’re really warm..”
“that’s fine, you can lay here for as long as you need..” noé cooed
the older snaked his hands under vanitas’ pajama shirt, further spreading his warmth through his body. he pulled his impossibly closer as he slowly stroked his back & under his shoulder blades, applying pressure occasionally. vibrations spread through noé as vanitas softly hummed into his neck, visibly relaxing under the other’s touches. the massages slowly transitioned into slow, soothing back rubs. a mumbled ‘thank you’ left the younger’s lips in that pillowy voice that noé didn’t hear all that often. he responded by patting his back.
it was almost an hour later when noé figured the latter would want to lay in his bed by himself, and started getting up.
“okay, im gonna get up now so you can rest, okay?”
he awaited a response but the room was deafeningly silent, except for the hushed breathing of the man on him. he was curled into his lap, a look of relaxation painting his face that was only brought out when he slept, which he didn’t do often. noé didn’t have it in his heart to wake him up. the thought of having to see him rub his eyes and sit up after being woken up made him want to cry. he hoped deep down vanitas wouldn’t mind if noé stayed in the bed with him, considering he was knocked out cold on his lap. he carefully slid down onto the bed and pulled the covers over them both.
I know I did write one before but wasn't feeling it and hated it so im rewriting it
Tagged list @donnaintx @amanda-teaches @sourwolf-sterek32 @myinconnelly1 @marvelfansworld @twdeadfanfic
(Dean Pov)
"I knew it was wrong but yet something about her wanted me to know more about her. There was a reason why I needed her. To me she was the most beautiful human being ever. The sight of her made me feel things I though I lost years ago. She was the radiant. The way her hair fell on her face so perfect in every way. The way her eyes would light up under the pale moon sky. She was beautiful to me and the most fragile thing I ever saw. I knew I should stay away from but I couldn't.
Sitting on a park bench writing in your journal and looking over the tiny bridge where you see too couple kissing and laughing. You smile to yourself. Seeing couples did make you sad at times but made your heart hurt. You did want to have someone but the dating department wasn't your strongest.
Sighing to yourself you close your journal and start walking home. Getting off the bench you take one last look. Watching the leaves change color. The Autumn smell tickling your nose. The tiny breeze running thought your body. Walking slowly enjoying the weather. With out looking you bump into someone. You drop your bag and your journal on the floor. Before you can bend down someone picks your journal up. You look straight at him. Your mouth and body freeze. He was beautiful. Tan skin. Blonde spikey hair the way his face was shaped so muscular and sharp. What caught you off guard was those eyes. Those apple green eyes. You could spend hours looking into them. As you both looked into each others.
"I'm so sorry sometimes I get caught up in things I forget where im going" you said brushing your hair to the other side. He smile at you. He handed you back your journal.
'Its okay" he says smiling at her
(Dean pov)
"She was beautiful and pure. Something about her made me wanna be around her. The way she carried herself. Her scent was something I never expected. I couldn't put my finger on it. I had these feeling in my heart which is something I had never felt. The way she looked. Her beautiful long hair( or short) hair blowing in the wind. Her ( eye color) told me something about her. I can see sadness and pain.
"My name(y/n). You say smiling at the handsome stranger.
"Dean Dean Winchester " he says smiling at her.
Five years later.
Dean sitting in this library office hunched over looking through his father old books and papers. A bottle of whiskey sitting in the middle of the table. Few candles around him for light. Looking through his dad files he sees a picture of a girl she looks familiar but he can't remember. Pouring a glass of whiskey. He grabs the glass taking a sip. Feeling the warm amber burning this thoart. He smikes to himself thinking about (y/n) the one girl who changed his heart forever. He cares for her only. He knows he hast to start away from her. He can not let let his secret out.
Laying on your bed looking up at the ceiling. Listening to your iPod. You smile to yourself for the past five years you have been thinking about that one gorgeous man you met five years ago. You can't stop thinking about him. He was beautiful it was like looking at a Greek God. Laying on your side you remember those eyes. Those green eyes. How could you not remember those eyes and his beautiful smile. Laying there in the dark. Slowly letting your eyes drop and soon fall into a deep sleep.
Waking up you find yourself in a place you never have seen before. Hearing birds chirping. Cloudy rain weather. Small raindrops dripping on you. Stretching you get up slowly. You look around you are in a forest. Looking down at your self. You are in light blue long sweetheart dress. Covering every curve of your body. A little coat around you. You hear your name being called. Walking down the tiny path. Feeling the little drops of rain hit the trees. Grabbing your coat tighter.
Walking along the tiny bridge things start to change before your eyes. The raindrops begin to disappear your clothes become drier. The sun being to break through. The tress that were once bare become full of color. The grass becomes greener. Flowers start to bloom.
Walking you see someone standing there. He was a young man about six foot. His back to me. You walk up to him before her even turns around.
"Hello(y/n) he says waving his hand to. You walk closer to. He turns around to you. Smiling waving his hand a red rose appears in front of you. You look at him taking a little tiny rose.
"Dean" you say looking at him. He smiles at you. You forgot how handsome and beautiful he was. The way his hair was slicked back his strong facial feature. Those gorgeous green eyes.
"Hello beatiuful" he says cupping your cheek. Closing your eyes so a second smelling his scent. Whiskey gun powered and must. His thumb tracing along your lips. Opening your eyes you see those green eyes looking right into yours.
"Where am I " you ask. He drops his hand against his side. Sighing and look away from you. He looks out at the open lake.
"This is the only place we can meet' he say.
"What do you mean" you say walking close to him. He sighs to himself
"Do you remember that day you and I met' he says stretches his neck
You smile and look at him
"Yes I do it was one of my best night" you say smiling and holding the rose he gave you.
"Well for the past five years I been thinking about you and want to learn more about you" he says giving out his hand for you and he pulls you close. Looks into your eyes. Slowly making his way to your lips. You can feel the heat of his mouth against yours. Looking at those pink pump lips. Slowly feeling him about to kiss your alarm goes off.
Shooting out of bed fast you see your alarm beep. Breathing deeply laying back down at the ceiling. Covering your face. You feel something soft against you. Moving your hands around the bed. You feel a soft and silky item. Moving your and hand over the covers. You find a red rose.
You think to yourself was it a dream or did it happen. Putting the red rose on your night stand. Stretching you get the covers off you. Putting your feet on the floor you see leaves and others coming outta your cover. You stretch your head. "It was a dream was it' you say thinking to yourself.
dated — november 2008 - april 2010
located — dorchester, boston
type — one-shot
AGE FOURTEEN
Eoin comes to consciousness, eyes blinking and unfocused. Where however long ago, his entire world and body was intense pain, waking up now is met with calm and warmth; a smiling face comes into focus, and a gentle hand presses to his cheek. "Mom?" he asks, his voice cracked and raw.
There's a laugh, "I sure hope not." The face comes into focus; soft, warm brown eyes framed by wild, black, and kinky hair. There's a smile on the girl's face, though it speaks more of amusement than anything else. "Come, let's get you to your feet. Can you stand?"
Oh, but he is lying down, isn't he? Eoin finally manages to tear his gaze from the angel above him to look around at the reality of the world. "What happened?" The question comes at the same time as the memory comes back to him. The walls of the alley are still sizzling under the biting acid, there's the acrid smell of death in the air, and three bodies, unmoving, half-decayed. No, not decayed. Corroded.
The girl gets up from where she'd been sitting and holds a hand out to him for him to take, which he does. There's surprising strength in her as she pulls him to his feet, or maybe he just isn't that heavy. "You got into a fight," she claims as she too looks around at the mess, then turns a little wicked smile on him. "Or maybe a fight got into you. Doesn't matter, you should feel better now."
"Yeah," Eoin stammers quietly, hands moving along his body slowly. Where previously his broken ribs, cracked under relentlessly kicking boots, were endlessly cracked, there's no trace of harm or pain in them now. His face is absent of swelling despite the beating, and the only hint that anything had happened at all is the caked blood where previously there had been excessive wounds. "Thank you. How did you do that?"
The reply comes in the way of a cheeky wink, followed by an equally cheeky grin. "The burning cure," she says, producing a worn zippo from her pocket. The flame of the lighter catches in her open hand and is extinguished once more when she closes it. "Where are your parents?" Eoin can only reply with a frown and a little shrug. The girl studies him for a moment, then, with a nod, she seems to make up her mind about something. "Okay. I want you to meet some people."
There's nothing Eoin can really do as her hand wraps around his upper arm and he's dragged down the alleyway. "I'm Eoin," he says, eyes still glued to her as though she's a mirage and if he looked away, she'd vanish. "What's your name?"
The girl looks back at him when she stops at the mouth of the alley, the mischief ever-present in her smile. "Nachelle."
AGE FIFTEEN
"Stop! Eoin, stop!" Nachelle's voice calls and echoes through the abandoned warehouse they call their home, along with several other kids, both mutant and human. A shriek pierces the otherwise silent space. "Please! Please stop!"
On the cot they share, Eoin has her pinned down, straddling her waist as Nachelle turns and squirms the best she can under his relentless assault. A wicked smirk rests on his face as his fingers dig into her ribs, over and over, pulling yet another scream from her lips. "Call me a dumbass again. Go on, try me."
Nachelle's eyes squeeze shut as sharp laughter bubbles from her mouth, and her head shakes violently. "You're a—” A gasp. "You're a dumbass, Eoin. Please, stop!" This time it's Eoin's turn to laugh, and when his fingers settle, he leaves Nachelle a panting mess.
"Fine," he snickers as he gets off her and lies down next to her. It's a tight fit, as it always is, but neither teenager seems to mind very much. Her head finds his chest and an arm wraps around his waist as she pulls herself into her side and that much closer to him. Eoin's hand drops on her head, playing with her hair slowly.
"You are a dumbass, Eoin," Nachelle repeats when her panting and soft giggles have subsided.
Eoin simply nods. "Mhm. I know."
Silence falls upon the warehouse again, and Eoin doesn't know how long they lie there, her fingers gently tracing patterns on his chest while one of his fingers twists around a piece of black hair over and over.
"I love you."
The words push into the silence slowly, and for a second, Eoin thinks that perhaps he misheard. When he blinks his eyes open and looks down, they connect with hers; no mischief, no laughter in her eyes. She said what she said and she meant it.
They stare at each other for an eternity. She's not taking it back, and Eoin realises he doesn't ever want her to.
"I love you too." Of course he does. How could he not?
The smile that he conjures onto her face with those four words leaves every radiant smile that had come before it but a dull affair. When she crashes her lips against his, he thinks for all its flaws and hardships, his life is absolutely perfect the way it is.
AGE FIFTEEN
Panic clings to every edge of Eoin's mind as he gasps in the cold Boston air, the salt in the air burning into the back of his throat as much as the gas is burning into his lungs. It all happened far too quick for him to comprehend; one moment they're all sleeping peacefully, the next, the warehouse — their home — is invaded by men in dark vests and riot gear, flashlights shining everywhere, blinding them even upon the deafening sound of gunfire.
The gas poured from his hands unlike a manner he'd ever seen gas do; it wasn't wispy, or billowing, but rather thick, almost liquid, like a waterfall of thick vapour unleashed from the pores of his hands. Silence came quick, and the only thing that stopped the unbidden assault from his hands was the fact that he couldn't breathe.
Before he could fall to his knees and succumb, already lightheaded, he's grabbed by the arm and pulled from the warehouse by a hacking and coughing form.
His knees finally find the floor even as another gunshot rings in the air. Nachelle drops the rifle by the police officer's now-dead body before she crouches next to him, wrapping her arms around his shaking and crying form.
"We're okay, Eoin," she reassures him, but her voice is ravaged, and she can't keep herself from coughing no matter how much she tries. "We have to go, we can't stay here. More will come, come on."
"I killed them," he whispers through his panicked sobs, voice just as raw and painful as Nachelle's sounds. "I killed them all. I killed them, I killed them." His body rocks back and forth on its own accord before he's hauled to his feet.
"No you didn't, baby," she says, but her attention isn't on him. The kids that also made it out find their way towards them, some older teenagers like Nachelle, some Eoin's age, and others younger still. "Is this everyone?" An older boy nods his head, still coughing as he watches Eoin. "Don't look at him, Jarod, it's not his fucking fault. Grab the little ones, we need to leave."
The next day, the news reports a warehouse of dangerous mutants has been eliminated, and viewers are asked to keep the officers that died in their thoughts and prayers. Nachelle turns off the TV with angry eyes. They know better than these lies.
AGE SIXTEEN
There's something in her eyes, a challenge, her gaze unwavering as its fixed on him. Eoin looks at the man holding her by the hair harshly. "So what's it gonna be?" the human asks, no, demands, and Nachelle's hand on the man's wrist tightens, her glare going darker.
Eoin has known her for long enough to know what her face is telling him. Don't. Eyes moving between her and the human, he finds his fists clenching by his sides. Don't give in. And she's right, of course. They've fought for everything they have, and under no circumstance are they going to give it up for some mutant-hating piece of shit with a gun and a threat.
His eyes narrow, and maybe there's something about him, a shift in his body, the movement of his hand, that betrays his intention. "Eoin," Nachelle says, just as the pungent smell of acid fills the air and he throws the glob. Intended for the human hand holding the gun to Nachelle's head, the man shifts her in the line of fire at the last moment, and Eoin watches in horror as the acid burns away at her face.
She's silent. The animalistic scream that tears through the air isn't hers; it's his own. The human lets go of her hair, startled, and starts backing away as the gun is aimed at him. In the next second, Eoin's world goes black, and, even as the gun is fired and lodges a bullet into his shoulder, the animal wearing Eoin's skin pounces on the man with unimaginable speed.
When Eoin's rational mind switches back on, he's sitting on the severely mutilated corpse of the human, panting hard. The wailing of police sirens rings in the air, far still, and it can't drown out the murmurs of the shocked crowd that's now gathering in the street near the alley; phone cameras are pointed at him, heads shaking. Monster, some hiss. Mutant scum, others spit. Eoin looks between them, their judging eyes, and then his eyes fall on Nachelle's still form.
There's something in the depth of his stomach that lurches and stills; something in the back of his mind that snaps. With slow movements, he shifts towards her. He can't look at her face; won't. Instead, he digs into her pocket and pulls her zippo from it. The burning cure.
Eoin gets up to his feet and holds up acidic hands with cold eyes. "Move!" he roars at the crowd, even as he approaches them. They part like the red sea, some scrambling to get out of his way more as he walks through them. He should just kill them all.
When the police finally arrive, Eoin is long gone, and whatever was left of the person Nachelle knew died with her in that alley.
a/n: is that what that day is called? i dunno. my first instinct when i was watching story mode.
11/18/2022 edit: don't mind me; just reformatting.
summary: day 4, when v tries to convince you to leave with him. saeran x f!reader.
cw: f!reader, she/her pronouns. angst.
wc: 719.
V takes a step forward — “Please, can’t you listen to me?” — and then Ray is reeling back — “Get away! Get away!”
Despite his panic and desperation, Ray throws his arm out in front of you, keeping you behind him and away from V. “Don’t you dare touch [Name]!”
Even as his breathing grows ragged, his face becoming paler with every gasping air, he is trying to protect you. You watch his back tremble and hunch; his body looks as though it is trying to curl into itself and hide from whatever memories V brings with him.
V takes another step forward, and now Ray’s shouts have become frenzied begging — “Please, please go away — ” and you feel that this web spans years, threading insects and poisons and nightmares with every silky curve and twirl, and you aren’t sure where to begin to uncover it and how to unravel him from this cocoon.
He stumbles as V shows him two little cards. Ray drops his arm to grasp the limb, pained, stammering about an angry savior. His voice rises and cracks, and you see it again, the reason why you had decided to stay: there is a gaping, cracking chasm in him, jagged along the edges as if some great devil had slipped their fingers between his chest and pulled him open by the ribs; and with this blackened maw trying to swallow him, he had never once asked you for help —
— But you have seen your fair share of blackened maws.
You have seen fissures greater than canyons, than planets, yawning cavities that have devoured entire universes.
You have your own memories of drowning in ravines, hands reaching up at the night sky, starless.
You know that sometimes it is a silent plea.
“I’m so sorry things turned out like this, Saeran,” V whispers. He looks to you then. “But [Name], I came to rescue you. I infiltrated this place after determining that you were in danger.”
“No —!” Ray grasps his head. “Don’t – don’t believe anything he says, [Name]. I can protect her — I’m protecting her.”
Ray is unsteady on his feet; you touch his shoulders, but he flinches reflexively, and when he sees that it was just your hands, he grasps your wrist.
“[Name],” V begins.
“Save him,” you say. “If you’re here for me, then you should be here for him, too.”
V hesitates. “I... It’s my fault,” he says. “It’s my fault, but...but I can’t — I don’t think I can pull him from her grasp right now...”
V looks pained, too, when he says that, and then you see that he has the same gasping maw in him, the same jagged lines where caressing fingers had turned cruel.
Ray’s grip on your wrist tightens. You had stepped in front of him, but he tries to tug you back, fear in his hands.
“She doesn’t believe you,” Ray snarls half-heartedly, but you see the doubt and the dread — Don’t go — Please don’t — Please don’t leave me.
“I think you should go, V,” you say.
V looks like he wants to say more, to try and convince you, to save at least one soul, but there are voices shouting from across the garden, and he hesitates, now stuck against the hourglass.
“Go,” you tell him kindly. “I’ve dealt with spiders before.”
“She’s not — ” But the words get caught in his throat. You see old webs in his hair, glistening against the glow of the garden lights. He nods finally and then turns and disappears into the trees.
Ray is trying to calm his breathing, his hand still gripping firmly around your wrist. You reach back and pry his hold from your skin, and before he can jerk back in fear and self-doubt, you switch the grasp to your hand, showing him how other people should be touched — gently, and with sincerity.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, eyes still darting at the growing darkness around the two of you, at the shadows that shift and slide in the unknown.
You never liked the thought of putting broken pieces back together. The cracks would still be there, pieces would still be missing — but armor, and swords, and steel? It is a romantic thought, you think, but perhaps these pieces can be re-forged, heated and kissed by a blazing fire, by a steady hand.
