#but shortly there was blue sky and I was able to take this picture

[waytooinvested]

Vengeance, Victory, and Undying Love - pt 9

Chapter 9 of my Supercorp fic in which Lena still creates something called Non Nocere to deal with her broken heart after finding out Supergirl's identity, but this time she gives the name to a different project. A more personal one. And now she’s coming for Supergirl.

This and previous chapters also available to read on Ao3

...............

The next time she saw Lena, it was an accident.

Well, sort of.

Kara had taken to night flights when she couldn’t sleep – not patrolling for trouble (though that’s what she claimed she was doing) so much as just taking the opportunity to bathe in the gentle wash of starlight. She enjoyed feeling the cool night breeze against her skin and gazing out at the quiet expanse of the city. During the day it was a seething hive of activity, but at night the pace slowed, swapping the bustle for peaceful darkness spangled with lights that glimmered beneath her toes like an infinite swarm of fire flies.

Sometimes – not too often, but sometimes – she would stay out there all night, watching over the world as the sky faded from black to navy to grey-blue, then broke into the delicate pink and orange of sunrise spreading up from the horizon.

Those nights were the best ones, and the worst, because they made the hollow in her chest ache so viciously.

Back before all this had happened, Lena had sometimes stayed over at her apartment after their movie night ran just a little too late to make the journey home feel like a good idea. The idea was to sleep of course, but more than once they had stayed awake long after the credits had rolled on the final movie, just talking and laughing, swapping stories and dreams and ideas until the dawn chorus reminded them that there was a world out there that would shortly be demanding their attention.

Somewhere along the way a secret fantasy had been born in Kara’s heart – one that involved herself and Lena, a blanket, a thermos, a basket of fresh, oven-warm pastries, and the sunrise. In it she would scoop Lena up into her arms and fly them both out over the city and away somewhere special where no one would disturb them and the only thing for miles around for her super hearing to pick up was bird song and the sound of Lena’s heart beating in time with her own.

A mountaintop perhaps, or a cliff overlooking a pure turquoise sea.

They’d settle there, huddled close together against the early morning chill under their single blanket (it was always just one blanket, though she tried not to examine too deeply why that was), and they’d watch the sun come up.

She’d actually told Lena about it once, after a particularly deep heart to heart when her walls were as far down as she was ever able to let them.

Well, not all of it of course. Not the part about taking Lena in her arms and flying them away under her own steam, or the part about the single blanket. But she had looked out of her window at the rosy clouds and said that she wished they could be watching the sunrise from somewhere beautiful, outside of the city.

Lena had smiled at her so tenderly, the soft shine in her eyes instantly making the rising sun seem brash by comparison, and said ‘but we can’.

Kara’s stomach had plummeted even as her heart leapt, thinking that Lena was picturing the same thing she was, that she knew, and was saying that it was alright, that she felt the same. In another few moments Kara might well have blown her cover and swept her up right then and there to enact the fantasy for real, but before she could Lena had shaken her head at Kara’s stunned expression and laughed.

‘I have a private jet, remember? We can go wherever you like. Tell you what, why don’t we plan a proper vacation? We can all go. I’m sure we can find somewhere with spectacular sunrises, and perhaps some good vineyards too. It’ll be fun’.

And it would have been fun, if not exactly what Kara had been hoping for. But the vacation had never happened, because before it could they were all caught up in saving the world from certain peril yet again, and that had led to everything with Lex, and Lena had found out who she was, and everything had fallen apart.

She had been thinking about this and, alright, maybe moping about it a little, when she’d caught the sound of quiet sobs from a distant balcony.

Lena’s balcony.

She knew it wasn’t her place to comfort Lena when she was sad anymore, but it was as if thinking so hard about their past time together had conjured her presence, like the fact that they were both out here at this late hour when so few people were awake meant that she was somehow supposed to go.

Besides, she couldn’t bear to listen to Lena cry and not at least try to help.

She touched down on the balcony a few feet away from where Lena sat looking small and vulnerable in nothing but her light summer pyjama shorts and tank top, an almost empty bottle of scotch by her side.

‘Lena?’

She spoke the name very softly, trying not to startle her.

Lena looked up at her, eyes a little unfocused with alcohol.

‘Kara. I should have known you’d show up’.

‘I don’t mean to pry, it’s just… I heard you crying, and I wanted to make sure you were okay’.

‘Of course you did’.

‘So… are you okay?’

It was a stupid question. Lena was as not okay as Kara had ever seen her, her eyes red and puffy with crying, her bare arms and legs pebbled with goosebumps in the chilly night air, hair mussed as if she had tossed and turned on her pillow before giving up and coming out here. She was a mess.

A beautiful mess.

Kara longed to take Lena into her arms and warm her against her own chest, to wipe away her tears, smooth back her hair and tell her that everything was going to be alright, but she had to settle for taking off her cape and draping it tentatively around Lena’s shoulders instead.

For a while Lena stayed stiff, neither shrugging off nor acknowledging the offer, but eventually her need for warmth must have won out, because to Kara’s relief the frozen fingers of the hand that wasn’t clutching a glass of scotch reached up to pull the folds of the cape more snugly around herself.

It was not quite an invitation to stay, but it was the next best thing. An unspoken acceptance of Kara’s presence on the balcony.

‘Would it be alright if I sit?’

Lena glanced at her dully and made a gesture half way between a nod and a shrug before downing the rest of her scotch and pouring herself another large measure. The bottle clanked against the glass as she tipped it clumsily, half the liquid that had been intended for the cup sloshing over her bare knee instead, but she didn’t seem to notice or care.

‘I was going to- to cure cancer you know’.

‘Were you?’

‘Yep. Or climate change. Hadn’t decided yet, but it was- it was going to be something heroic. Only now I can’t do it’.

‘Why not?’

Lena threw her a sceptical look and hiccuped.

‘Because. Because Kara, I am sitting out here on my balcony at 3am, and I’m drunk’.

Kara couldn’t help laughing at that, just a little.

‘I see that. But you won’t stay drunk. You’ll go to bed soon and sleep it off, and then you’ll be able to do whatever you like’.

‘No, no you see that’s where you’re wrong. I won’t, because I’ve already failed. I thought I succeeded, but I was fooling myself. It didn’t work. It was never going to work. And now I don’t have anything else to try. Kara’.

A pause, followed by a sudden rush of words.

‘Kara, I don’t want this anymore. I don’t want it but I don’t know how to go back. I’ve ruined everything’.

Fresh tears washed over the salty tracks of those that had come before, and Kara raised a tentative hand to touch the folds of cape above Lena’s shoulder.

She swallowed, hardly daring to breathe in case it broke the fragile thread that was spinning out between them.

‘What don’t you want Lena?’

#supergirl #supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #my fic #angst with a happy ending #multi chapter fic

[stardustarcherr]

“The Willow Tree”

Jake x Reader // Word Count: 480

A short and sweet imagine I wrote a while ago, which hadn’t really seen the light of day until now.

“Hmmm, maybe I should try a different angle.” You say, speaking softly to yourself, as you look down at the fresh image on your camera screen.

Today was one of the most beautiful days Summer had to offer; the sun was bright, the sky as blue as sapphires, and the earth was the greenest it had been in a long time. You decided it presented the most perfect opportunity to visit your childhood getaway spot, “The Willow Tree”.

Just two miles down into the woods, right outside of town, stood a lonely willow, who wept delicately over an overgrown; flower ridden pond. And whose branches were thick and hung over just enough to make it feel like a special room from underneath.

This was the spot, both you and your best friend Jake had claimed as your own. You loved it there and so did he. Whenever the world felt as if it were turning against you, whenever you and Jake wanted to play make believe as kids, or whenever you wanted to feel at one with nature, it’s where you would run to.

Today had also marked three years since Jake and his brothers, as well as their best friend Danny, moved several states away to pursue a lifelong dream of becoming musicians.

You missed him, a lot… To spend one thousand ninety-five days without your person, the boy you’ve known since you were just a baby, your “big brother”, it was a hard adjustment. But thankfully you were always able to run to his family when you needed to.

In those three years apart, you decided to take up photography as new hobby, aside from your poetry. You wanted to make sure you captured every moment, so you’d always have the memory. Because living in the moment sometimes just wasn’t enough.

As you spent your time wandering around the nostalgia of nature around you, taking pictures of the different life surrounding the area, you couldn’t help but notice something etched into the willow. “Y/I & J” was engraved at the bottom, written as if two teenagers were proclaiming their love for each other to the world. Seeing this caused a single teardrop to softly run down your cheek. In this moment, you decided to stop taking photographs and just sit peacefully under the willow.

Some time had passed, and you now had your poetry journal in hand and began writing…

“The sun shines brighter from above

And you’re the boy that I love

Climb the mountain even higher

To kiss the sun, fight the fire.”

Shortly after those lines were written, you heard a rustle through the trees beside you. Two shadows are then seen approaching the willow. And the faces you thought you’d never see again, peeked through the branches.

“Sam?” You said confused, as your eyes began to fill with tears. “J-Jake?”

‘Hi Y/N.” Jake answers, smiling ear to ear.

#greta van fleet #jake kiszka #jake gvf #jake x reader #jake kiszka imagine #sam kiskza #josh kiszka #danny wagner #greta van fic

[anabsolutetrainwreck]

for your eyes only || h. styles

warnings: swearing, references to drugs

word count: 2.5k

summary: harry is feeling the pressure of making his new album...

You were already in bed by the time Harry got home. Though still awake, your eyes were heavy and your body ached for rest. But you’d never been able to sleep without knowing Harry was safe at home. 

The slamming of the front door echoed through your house. You listened silently as he hung up his coat and kicked off his shoes. You heard him wander into the kitchen, turn on the tap and pour himself a glass of water. After a couple of minutes, he ventured upstairs, heading straight into the bathroom. He began brushing his teeth. 

All the while, you stared out the window of your bedroom. It looked out onto the London streets, dimly lit by the street lights. The bedroom was dark, only illuminated slightly by the outside sky and all of its stars and the moon. 

Harry had been at the studio all day. He’d been stressing about writing his new album. He had started coming home late and leaving early. You barely saw him anymore. You always left him some leftovers in the fridge for him to eat when he got in or take for his lunch. Every time you tried to ask him if he was okay or if he needed to take a break, he’d just shrug you off and tell you he was fine. 

You’d seen a similar thing when he was making his first album, but it was never as bad as this. You’d seen it when he was trying to finish Watermelon Sugar, but it was never as bad as this. 

You felt the bed sink beside you, which consequently woke your cat, who was sleeping at the bottom of your bed. His name was Podge. Rolling over to face Harry, you smiled softly at him. You wanted to be angry at him for never telling you where he was anymore or prioritising his album over your relationship, but you just couldn’t be. You always knew where he was. He went to the studio all day and then would go back to Sarah and Mitch’s for a bit during the evening. “How are you?” he whispered, wrapping his arm around your body.

“Tired,” you replied, squeezing him tightly.

He pressed his lips lazily to the top of your head. You smiled at the feeling of his touch. “Go to sleep then,” he mumbled. 

“But I haven’t seen you today. And I won’t see you tomorrow,” you sighed. “I just miss you. And I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, love. You know I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”

You sat up, turning back to him. He frowned, propping himself up against the headboard. “That’s the thing. I don’t think you would tell me.”

“What? Where did you get that idea?” 

“Well, you never told me when you were making your first album. You never told me when you were trying to finish Watermelon Sugar. You don’t have a great track record of being transparent when it comes to telling me when you’re not okay,” you explained. “Instead, all you do is come home and go to sleep. Then you wake up before me to get to the studio early. And even when you finish at the studio, you go back to Sarah and Mitch’s. She’s fucking pregnant, Harry, give them some time alone.”

He sat there and took it like a small child being scolded by his mother. He played with his fingers as you tried not to shout. You both knew it would only be a matter of time before you broke and all your feelings would come pouring out. 

The sound of Podge whining at the bottom of the bed interrupted your heated rant. He plodded his way up to the two of you, settling in between you both. He often did that. He’d clamber up to the top of the bed to sleep between your bodies when everyone was comfortable.

Harry reached down to run his hand along Podge’s soft back. You sighed, throwing the covers off your legs. “I’m going to get a drink,” you told him as you left him alone in the bedroom. 

He watched you leave. He didn’t call out or beg for your forgiveness. That was never how arguments were handled in your relationship. He sighed, getting comfortable in bed again, waiting for your return. The sound of Podge purring was enough to calm his nerves as he listened to you pour yourself a glass of water in the kitchen. He listened carefully as you walked around a bit, before he heard the back door open and close. 

You often went outside to take a moment to collect your thoughts whenever you and Harry got into an argument. Harry knew this. 

You set your glass down as you sat down on the bench against the wall. The fabric was cold against your thighs. You looked up at the bedroom window, wondering whether Harry was contemplating everything you’d said or if he was comfortably falling asleep. 

Harry waited for you to return. You never did. You’d gone to sleep in the spare bedroom. The two of you were too tired to take it too further tonight. So, you both slept, knowing tomorrow would either be full of shouting and tears of frustration or pettiness. 

However, when Harry woke in the morning, he climbed out of bed to apologise to you. Podge followed after him, his claws loud on the floor. But you were gone. The bed in the spare bedroom was made. He slowly made his way down to the kitchen, his nerves getting the better of him. Had you really left? 

There was a note on the kitchen counter by the bowl of fruit. ‘GONE OUT FOR BREAKFAST WITH GEM’. Harry looked over at the clock on the wall. It was thirteen minutes past nine. But he didn’t know when you’d written the note. He quietly poured himself a glass of orange juice and buttered some toast. He went out into the back garden, sitting down in the very spot you’d sat in a few hours earlier. 

The weather was nice. The sky was blue and there was a moderate breeze in the air. His phone buzzed on the table, the screen lighting up to reveal the picture of you he had set as his lock screen. Your slightly pixelated smile was electric through the screen as you cradled Podge in your arms when he was just a kitten. 

The notification was from Mitch. He couldn’t make it to the studio. Harry replied quickly, telling him it wasn’t a problem. It was Saturday anyway. Granted, Harry could probably do with a day off. But, even when he lay in bed all day doing absolutely nothing, he was still working.

That was the trouble with making an album: it plays on your mind until it’s finally out in the hands of the public. More so, Harry noticed, with his solo albums. And that was why Harry seemed to spend every waking moment in the studio. He figured that he might as well be in an environment where he can turn his epiphanies into harmonies.

He heard the front door open and close. You were home. Harry finished the remnants of his orange juice. Podge appeared in the doorway, rubbing his head along on the edge of the threshold. Shortly after, you followed. You were standing in the doorway, shuffling awkwardly. “Not going to the studio today?” you asked, sitting down opposite him. 

He shrugged, “Might do. It’s still early yet.”

You nodded. There was no pettiness. There was no shouting. There was just silence with intervals of small talk. Harry watched you as you fiddled with your fingers, your knee bouncing. You were nervous, he could tell. “How was Gemma?” he asked. 

“She was great,” you replied. “Asked how you were.”

“Yeah? What did you tell her?”

“I said you were fine,” you shrugged. “Just busy with the album.”

He nodded slowly, “Right.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, sitting up straight. You felt Podge run his body along your leg beneath the table. “What? Was I wrong to say that?” you asked, worrying that you’d done something wrong. 

He shook his head quickly, “No, no.”

Harry didn’t say anything more. He was closed off. There was something he wasn’t telling you. You’d been with Harry long enough to know this. Usually, he was quite open with you. He told you what felt like everything. But this never applied to his music. His job. You and his job were two separate things. He made that explicitly clear from the very beginning. You were never to get mixed up with his music and his music was never to get mixed up with you. The line between the two was never blurred. 

But this meant he hardly ever told you when he was struggling or when he felt like he needed a break from it all. You only ever heard songs when they were finished. You only ever saw music videos when they were complete. You had only ever been to one awards show with him - the 2020 Brits. You had never even seen the inside of the studio. You had only met his band on a handful of occasions, all of which had been on nights out or for celebratory dinners, never when they were rehearsing. 

It was like he was leading two lives. 

“You are okay, aren’t you?”

He nodded, “Sure. Just a bit stressed.”

You sighed, exasperated, “You always say that! Every time I ask if you’re doing alright, you just shrug and tell me you’re ‘a bit stressed’. Harry, ‘a bit stressed’ isn’t spending every day at the studio. It isn’t spending all night at the piano, trying to get a song just right. It isn’t constantly comparing yourself to other artists, trying to work out what worked for them and what didn’t. It isn’t getting high every time you fuck something up. It isn’t acting like you have no life outside of the music you make.”

“I don’t! I don’t have a life outside of the music I make. Don’t you get it? I’ve dreamed of this my entire life. I reached the top with the band. And once you’ve had a taste of what it’s like to own the fucking world, everything you do becomes about trying to get there again. It’s like a fucking drug. When it’s been in your system once, it lives there forever and you can’t stop thinking about it. You crave it,” he snapped. You winced as you watched him become so worked up, tears of frustration falling down his cheeks. He dragged his fingers through his hair, tugging on the strands harshly. 

It took you a moment to absorb everything Harry had said. Last night, it had only been a matter of time before you’d broken. Today, it had only been a matter of time since Harry broke. You were sick of it. Harry was sick of it. You let out a shaky breath, nodding slowly as his words registered, “I don’t know if you need to hear this from me. I don’t know if anyone has ever actually said this to you. But you’ll never be as big as the band.”

Harry looked up, his eyebrows knitted together. He looked offended. As anyone would be, you supposed. “What?” he squeaked out. 

“I know it’s brutal. And I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but you’re never going to be as big as the band. And it’s shit, Harry, I know. But you’re a fifth of that band. Some fans left with Liam, and some left with Zayn, and some left with Louis, and some left with Niall. And some left with you. And some left with all five of you. But the point is you’re missing four of the components you had when you owned the world. That band was fucking massive, Harry.”

He didn’t say anything for a while. You didn’t expect him to. You’d said all you felt you needed to say to him. And, while you knew you’d never be able to relate to exactly how Harry was feeling, you’d seen the devastating consequences stardom has on a person. You pressed on, “You owned the fucking world, Harry. But you owned it with four other guys. And I don’t think you could do it on your own.”

He sighed, nodding, “It’s just hard.”

“I know, baby. But it won’t get easier if you just don’t stop. You need to step back from this toxic mindset you’ve got yourself into. You literally just won a Grammy, give yourself a break,” you said. 

“That’s the point. I won a Grammy for Watermelon Sugar. What if I can’t make that again?” he sighed.

“Harry, you’ll never be able to make it again. Surely that’s the beauty of it all, right? Nobody wants to hear you put out another Watermelon Sugar. I can guarantee your fans would be happy to listen to what you want to make,” you said. 

It felt so foreign to be talking to Harry about these kinds of things. You’d reassured him and given him advice on all sorts, but never about the music industry. That was his area of expertise. But spending time with Gemma always put you in some sort of healthy frame of mind.

You reached across the table to squeeze his hand. There was no way you could still be angry at Harry for spending so much time away from the house. He wiped away the stray tears that clung to his cheeks. He reached down to cuddle Podge, who’d jumped up onto the bench at some point or another. “Thanks,” he said quietly, finally looking you in the eyes. “I’m sorry for getting so worked up over this. It’s so pathetic.”

“Don’t apologise, H. I love you and I’m always gonna be here for you. Please don’t be embarrassed about these things. I’ll never judge you for being emotional,” you smiled softly. 

“You’re too good for me,” he said, grinning across at you. 

You leaned back in your chair, shrugging, “Probably. I do think of this relationship as more of charity work.”

He laughed, “You’re so selfless!”

“I know! What can I say, some heroes don’t wear capes,” you smirked. 

It was moments like these, with the sun beaming down at the two of you, that you’d missed. Harry was smiling again. It felt like something you hadn’t seen for weeks. 

The truth was, Harry had always found it easier to express his feelings through the art of music. And, while this posed many benefits for him, it meant that, when he was trapped with writer’s block, he found it difficult to free himself of the burdening stresses of his industry. 

You got to your feet, extending your hand to Harry, “Come on, you’ve not had a shower for days. You stink.”

#harry fanfic #harry fanfiction #harry imagine #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry x you #harry x y/n #harry x reader #harry imagines #harry styles imagines

[awooga-llama]

LIGHTNING STRIKES

Dream x NB! Reader

Triggers// Panic attacks, swearing, derealization, and depersonalization

    It seems like it’s always raining when they’re sad. (Y/N) sat on their window bench watching as the blue droplets fall from the sky. It was nearing midnight and that’s usually when the lightning would start. That was the one thing that scared (Y/N) more than any mobs or war on the server. Nights like these were usually very stressful and led to (Y/N) passing out from unsolved panic attacks, by unsolved I mean that they could never calm themself down enough to feel normal and they were too embarrassed to reach out for help but that was all after Dream was sent to prison. Before, Dream would always be here to calm them down and help bring them back to reality. He would use calming words that showed them how much he appreciated them, he would use comforting items like the blanket they shared when watching the sunset or his hoodie that (Y/N) would always “borrow” to sleep in. Ever since he’s been gone (Y/N) lost themself. 

(Y/N) began to stop thinking and started feeling hollow inside as they continued waiting for the unwelcomed lighting storm, feeling as if they were simply a character in a film. That they were watching themself and the world around them from spectator mode not being able to control anything.  Shortly after sinking into this mental state of being the sky was filled with a blinding light striking a nearby structure, all (Y/N) could do was whimper and shy away from the glass. They watched as the person on the window bench began to breathe rapidly, trembling in fear, sweat mixing with tears as the sky displayed its light show to them. 

A crack of thunder and another bolt of lightning struck closer this time. It hit the oak tree in (Y/N)’s front yard, luckily not starting a fire. The person moved away from the window finally making a mad dash for their bedroom shaking terribly and sweating, their head getting light and struggling to breathe. They sat against a wall sliding down, the house shook and a shelf was knocked down nearby. (Y/N) grasped their head with one hand and the collar of their shirt tugging on it violently as if it were choking them. The flashes of light bounced off the wall as they watched themself break down. They tried to scream and calm down but they were already too far in. 

A loud bang came from the front door but (Y/N) didn’t know if it was the thunder and lightning anymore. The flash of a shadow showed on the wall in their small kitchen. (Y/N) could hear what they thought were footsteps only to cower farther away when the sound of a crackling thunderstep sounded closer to the bedroom window. A voice called out to them and it sounded oddly familiar, but they were too panicked to respond. They just wanted to pass out already. 

“(Y/N)! Where are you?” The voice sounded closer this time. They tried to take control of themself even just a little to get the mystery person’s attention but all they could do was watch and cry. Eventually, their saviour found them. The familiar dirty blonde hair cascading against his slightly tanned pale skin, contrasted with his green eyes that shone like two glimmering emeralds in the soft yellow candle light emitting from the nearby scaffolding desk. He glanced around the room quickly till his eyes fell onto the person wrapping themself tightly in a ball against the wall. 

“Fuck. Hey, hey (Y/N), come back to me, please. Just follow the sound of my voice, we’ll get through this.” His words were already affecting the other’s emotions, they glanced up at him as he quickly ran over to the bed in the corner of the room looking for something in particular. He found the blanket, grabbed a picture off the dresser next to him, and sprinted to the chests against the wall pulling out a royal green hoodie. The man next moved to the side of the room where (Y/N) sat, he set the stuff down pulling the quivering person into his arms, burying their head in his chest as he kissed the top of their head. 

“You’re strong. You’re beautiful. You’re my light. You’re going to be alright.” He planted kisses on (Y/N)’s head but also their cheek after every phrase. The smaller one slowly started to be able to breathe again, still shaking and jumping whenever the lightning crackled or the thunder rolled. Dream grabbed the framed photo from beside him, in it was (Y/N) and him staring at each other lovingly in front of some random waterfall they had found when adventuring around the server, this was way before anyone joined. It was just Dream, (Y/N), and George (Sapnap arriving later). The three of them had decided to go look for a place to build a house when (Y/N) took off running the other direction from the boys, they wandered for half an hour till they found a little hideaway. Inside the forest, covered by bushes and vines they discovered the waterfall where foxes and fish frolicked. They put the coordinates in a book and remembered to bring the boys there later. It was many months later they finally did. The three of them with the exception of Sapnap and Callahan went and had a picnic. George was collecting flowers and wood, Sap and Cal played in the water, and (Y/N) and Dream went to play on the rocks closer to the waterfall. (Y/N) jumped from one rock to the other and then their foot slid, they let out the sound of a dying bird waiting to hit the water only to be saved by Dream. That was the moment the two of them knew they needed each other, their eyes meeting as they stared at what they thought was the most gorgeous thing in the world not focusing on anything else. George took notice and snapped a picture before Sapnap grabbed Dream by the ankle, pulling the two into the water below. 

“What the hell was that for SnapMap!?!” (Y/N) yelled, splashing the dark-haired boy.

“It's SAPNAP! You guys were being weird! Also, you weren’t paying attention to me, Callahan was literally trying to drown me and you guys were too busy eye fucking to bother rescuing me!” He shrieked, voice cracking in a few places, splashing back at his (Y/H/C) haired friend. George smiled and Dream joined in the water fight as did Callahan. Oh how they'd like to go back to those times when the SMP was peacefully simple.

Dream never once let go of (Y/N), he was afraid to permanently lose them in their derealization. They were all he ever thought about in prison, they were his motivation to keep going, the one thing he wanted more than power. At first these feelings scared him and he tried to live a life of war away from (Y/N) only to feel lonely and bitter. But he always had to return because he was dying without them and he knows that now.

"Breathe, just breathe (N/N). Nothing can hurt you." They just looked at the photo, they were breathing normally and not shaking as much. Dream offered them the hoodie next but they shook their head no, just wanting to remain in his embrace. (Y/N) felt in control again and wrapped their arms around the blonde's midsection absorbing his aura of warmth and loving vibes.

The clock on the wall showed it was now 4:30 AM and the storm had come to an end. (Y/N) drifted to sleep in her crush's arms but he moved them to the bed. He was about to leave them to sleep, only to feel a tug on the edge of his orange jumpsuit. 

"Stay with me. I'll hide you tonight and we'll take off in the morning." (Y/N) quietly murmured like a child. Dream smiled and climbed into bed facing them, cupping their face and placing a gentle kiss to their lips. The two of them smile softly while drifting off to live their fantasies in their sleep. 

It was the start of their happy ever after on the run…

#dsmp fanfic #dream x reader #dream smp fanfiction #alternate universe #nonbinary #x reader #oneshot #romance #panic attack #triggering stuff #derealization

[littlesniggy]

Princess Part One

@pure-kirarin​: Hii! I loved your works, especially the smoker & Akainu ones. I was wondering if I could get smth for my Eustass boy where reader is a princess that is a fan of pirates since she was a child. She loves reading about Kid pirates in the newspapers and somehow is very intrigued. One day she hears that Kid pirates came to her island so she escapes undercover to meet Kid but she is shocked by how different he is from what she thought however, despite how "brute" that world seems she can't help but feel thrilled and excited to know more about him and she is even willing to give him her first time (P2) c: thanks a lot if you decide to write this ! <3 If you don't feel comfortable with it it's totally fine, kissies <3

Thank you so much! Well, I think I had too many ideas so I split it in two parts if that’s okay. This one is more like an introduction (?) and the dirty stuff will come in part two. It’s kinda long and I don't know if it got boring but anyways, have fun with Part one :)

Warning: verbal abuse

Word count: 3.5k

Part two is here

Her eyes skimmed through the newspaper articles looking for a specific one involving a certain pirate; Eustass Kid, the notorious pirate captain and part of the Worst Generation had been seen on an island not too far away from hers. Her heart started beating excitedly when she finally found the desired article.

Kid Pirates cause chaos – when will the bloodshed finally stop?

Eagerly, she started reading the article, absorbing every word like a hungry man almost starved to death. To her dismay, the article was shorter than she would’ve liked but nevertheless did she take out a pair of scissors from her desk, cutting the article out. On the next page was a wanted poster of Kid but sadly it was the same one she already had. She looked at his picture for a moment, tracing his face with his thumb before folding the newspaper and throwing it away. The article was stored safely in one of her desk drawers, away from any curious eyes.

“Y/n-sama…..Y/n-sama!” she heard one of the maids call her, waking her from her sleep. Tired, she sat up, rubbing her eyes before answering. “Come in.” her voice was still horse from her sleep and she had to clear her throat. The door opened and one of the maids entered, bowed down a little and went straight to the thick curtains, opening them in one swift motion. Dark clouds covered the sky and it looked like it was about to rain any moment; thunder could be heard from afar.

“Why are you still in bed? Today is a great day for you, Y/n-sama. If I were you I wouldn’t be able to sleep at all.” She giggled. The princess followed the maid with tired eyes as she made her way over to the dressing room. “Your father has told me to take out the navy-blue dress he got you the other week. Remember? The one that looks like stars have been woven into it?” The maid came back with said dress, holding it up and looking at it in awe. “It’s truly beautiful.” She said reverently.

The princess looked from the maid to the dress, then back to the maid and back to the dress once more. “Don’t you think it’s a little bit too….much?” she asked concerned. It was pretty, no questions asked but it looked like she was going to a ball to impress someone and not to meet her future husband. “Nonsense, Y/n-sama! It’s perfect! The prince will be just as impressed as the rest. You will look stunning. Plus, if I dare to say, he will fall head over heels for your Majesty.” The maid’s big eyes shined at the princess. The maid seemed happier about this day than the princess herself.

“If you say so. I just don’t want to look overdressed.” She stated concerned. She slid to the side of the bed, put her feet on the floor and stood up, her long nightgown following her body. The soft silk felt nice against her body even though she had to get used to it in the beginning; it was just so slippery.

The princess made her way over to the big bathroom to follow her daily routine while listening to the maid telling her about the daily schedule. After a while she tuned out and simply looked out of the window while brushing her teeth. The vast ocean could be seen from her room and the bathroom; sometimes she caught herself imagining what life would be if she had been born in a different country, to a different family and live a different life. Her life was great, she wouldn’t complain but something was missing but she didn’t know what.

Her father, the king, was standing by a huge window, a frown on his face when Y/n entered the big hall. When he heard her come closer, he hid a document behind his back, turned around and smiled at his daughter with a big smile. “You look beautiful, Y/n.” he praised and looked her up and down in appreciation. “Thank you, father.” She replied and spun around, the dress complementing her like it was made just for her. “The prince will be very pleased.” He said. Servants were rushing through the huge hall, carrying trays, food, and other things to give the festive hall the last touch.

“They will arrive shortly so let us walk over to the schedule once more.” He said while holding his arm out for her to take and guiding her over to the thrones standing at the end of the hall. She walked next to her father, reciting what the maid had told her and what she could remember.

“No, first comes the dance, then the dinner. We don’t want your dress to look unflattering during this important moment by showing a food belly.” He jokingly said and she looked at him sourly but didn’t say anything to it; instead, she kept going through the schedule.

Her eyes caught the paper he had put in the back of his dress pants. “What’s this?” she wondered but he brushed her off. “Oh, it’s nothing. It doesn’t concern you. You should simply focus on the event ahead and forget about anything else.” This was odd. Why was he hiding something from her? But she knew he wouldn’t tell her, especially if she pressed him.

The day went as planned, the king and the prince arrived, together with a huge entourage following them. She made huge eyes when the prince gave her this incredibly beautiful necklace with a dark-blue sapphire. The prince himself was….okay-ish. He wasn’t the most handsome nor the most ugly but he was definitely not her type. Credit to him, he was a gentleman and tried to make her feel comfortable. He was attentive, charming, and a polite. But she couldn’t see herself marrying him. Yet. She knew she had to so she tried to be as interested in him as possible. But it was difficult.

During a moment he was talking to his father and her father she could finally breathe and be to herself. This whole event was exhausting and she was looking forward for it to end. She saw a servant scurry away, a familiar paper in his hand. She followed him to the kitchen, a few servants bowed down when they saw her approaching. “Princess-sama, please, you know you’re not supposed to be here.” A maid said and tried to get her to go back to her guests.

“I’ll leave in just a moment but I need to know what this piece of paper says.” She pointed at the piece the servant was holding and he hid it behind her back. “Miss, the King ordered me to throw it away and to not show it to anyone. I must obey him.”

“And I order you to show it to me.” She countered, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Please, Princess-sama. It’s an order from your father.” He pleaded, conflicted on what to do. “He will never know. Show it to me and then you can burn it.” She said firmly and the servant sighed, handing the paper over to her. The maid tried to sneak a look at it and made big eyes.

“Oh no…” she whispered, backing away a few steps. “This is bad news. Why are they here?” fear was plastered all over her face, her hands clutched her arms like she was a small child.

“Please…give it back to me. I really need to get rid of it, Princess-sama.” The servant asked nervously, his eyes roaming the surroundings for any sight of the king. She gave it back to him, her face expressionless. “Thank you.” She simply said before turning around.

When she was out of sight, she couldn’t hold back a small squeak of excitement; the paper was a notice from one of the guards. He was patrolling the southern side of the island where there used to be a small town which had burned down a couple of years ago. Now, it was frequently used by bandits, pirates, and other criminals.

Her heart was racing, her face was burning, and she felt like she could burst out of sheer happiness. Pirates were anchoring near the burned down town. She needed to get there. She needed to meet them. She needed to see them. She needed to see him. She needed to see Eustass Kid.

It felt like an eternity when she was finally back at her chamber. It was already dark outside and she could hear the servants cleaning the garden in front of the castle downstairs. She was high up above the ground, her eyes trying to see the ship even though she knew it was useless; the window was on the north side, the Kid pirates on the south side so it was simply impossible. During the gathering she had to focus hard to not indulge too much in her thoughts about a certain captain. But the more she tried to suppress the excitement the more nervous she got.

And now, when it was finally over, she was hesitant. The desire to leave was strong but the guilt for sneaking out at night and maybe disappointing her father was not any weaker. But she knew that they would leave soon, probably sooner if her father sent his guards to the south side. Right now, he wouldn’t do anything since he didn’t want to cause any harm to his subjects. But as soon as they started to cause trouble, he would fight them. The princess was conflicted. What, if she got caught? She would get in huge trouble and if word got out the marriage between her and the prince would be called off. Nobody wants to associate themselves with a princess who sympathizes with pirates.

Time passed and she was still standing in front of the huge window, but by now she was looking at the wanted poster she was keeping in her drawer. With every passing minute her internal desire grew. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and came to a conclusion; she put the wanted poster back to its original spot, grabbed a coat, pulled it over, and opened the door to her chamber. The hallway was empty and she sneaked out. The servants and maids were still cleaning up and no one was paying attention to her.

It was easier than expected to exit the castle and its perimeter. How she was supposed to get back in was a problem of future princess. Right now, she was making her way over to the south side of the island. The ground was wet and muddy and cold from the rain but she was glad it had stopped an hour or so ago. In her hurried departure did she forget to put on shoes. How stupid can you be?, she thought to herself but tried to ignore the uncomfortable feeling. Hopefully, she wouldn’t catch a cold.

She saw a dim light in the distance and she slowed down a little. Doubt starting washing over her the closer she got. Did she make a mistake? How could she be so gullible and come here? Alone. At night. With nothing to protect herself. If she had only taken her horse she would be able to escape if things went wrong.

The wind carried voices over to where she stood; laughter and singing. She could hear the sound of glass on glass, probably bottles of sake. She sneaked closer to the small town, one building which was not as burnt down as the other buildings was being occupied by a group of men. She hid behind a wall next to a broken window. She didn’t dare look through it, too scared of being caught.

She heard heavy footsteps coming closer from around the corner and she barely managed to round the other corner to hide herself. The princess took a quick lock to see who it was; a tall man with a blue and white mask and maybe blonde hair if she could see it correctly. This must be Killer! The excited feeling inside her stomach came back; seeing him meant that Kid wasn’t too far away, maybe even waiting around the corner Killer just came from.

The tall man took a piss against the wall and she turned her face away, blushing deeply for taking a peek at his dick. She was glad he hadn’t noticed her. When he was done he walked back to his crew, leaving her alone again. The voices inside the building welcomed the man back with loud roaring before continuing their conversations.

The princess waited like this for a long time, unsure of what to do. Should she just get up and walk in? No, this would be stupid. Should she try and make them aware of her presence by making some small noise? Probably a bad idea as well. So, how should she meet Kid? She knew it was a bad idea but she’s already come this far so she just needed to! She was so deep in thought that she didn’t hear footsteps coming closer and rounding the corner to the wall she was sitting against.

“What do we have here?” a voice snapped her back to reality and like a deer in headlight she looked up at the two tall men standing next to her. “You were right, there really was someone here.” The read head stated amused at her small form sitting on the ground, clothes dirty and feet barefoot. Killer stood slightly behind his captain; arms crossed.

“And who might you be?” Kid crouched down next to her, a curious look on his face. She was frozen in place, unable to more or to talk. Kid’s aura was intimidating and she could almost feel his bloodlust. Would he kill her, too?

“What’s wrong? Too scared?” he chuckled before rising again. “I think I’ve seen her face before…” Killer’s words made her stomach drop. If he knew she was screwed! They would take her as leverage to get her father to pay them! They would torture her to get information about the kingdom’s treasure! “You have? Where?” Kid asked, nonchalantly as if he was talking about the weather. “I think in the newspaper. If I’m not mistaken then she is this kingdom’s princess.” Oh God, they knew! Kid tilted his head to the side, a pensive look on his face. “Now, that you mention it…” he said. A huge grin appeared on his face before he crouched down again. “Say, are you a princess?” he asked her, his eyes piercing through hers right into her head as if he didn’t want to wait for her answer and look for it himself inside her head.

“What would daddy pay for your save return?” he mused. She finally snapped out of this helpless state and slapped him across his face. The shock of her action hit her almost right after and she clutched her hand with her other, looking at him in fear. His grin had disappeared and was replaced by a frown. It didn’t hurt but how dare she slap him just like that? Kid reached for her arm and pulled her up with him; the grip was hard and unforgiving. It hurt and she whimpered, trying to pray his hand away which was useless.

Kid dragged her with him to where the rest of his crew was still drinking. All conversation stopped when they saw their captain dragging someone with him, followed by Killer. Kid pushed her to the ground in front of him, right in the middle of everyone. She looked around, sceptic pairs of eyes looking at her.

“Now, little princess, tell us. Why are you here?” he asked again. She looked at him with wide eyes before swallowing hard. “I….” but she stopped. What should she tell them? That she wanted to meet them? That she wanted to get to know them? That she was keeping every article of them, Kid especially, in her drawer? They would laugh at her!

“You?” Kid pressed, obviously enjoying he was making her uncomfortable, even scared. “I…” she started again. “I heard that…pirates had landed on this island and I….” she didn’t finish but somehow Kid got the gist. “And little princess thought it’d be a good idea to sneak out of her safe castle to meet the pirates.” His crew started laughing and her cheeks became red from embarrassment.

Kid got down to her level once more, grabbing her chin with his rough fingers, making her look at him. She looked straight into his red eyes, a warm and fuzzy feeling spreading inside her stomach. “Listen, princess.” His voice was so close to her, she could feel his breath against her skin; his rough but warm hand felt good on her skin and in left a slight tingling where he touched her. The grin on his face, exposing white teeth, was sadistic and dangerous; she knew he had the means to kill her but would he actually do it?

“I don’t know if you’re aware of who we are but it wasn’t your best idea to come and look for us. ‘Cause now you can get us in deep trouble, y’know?” His thumb stroked her bottom lip for a moment. Unconsciously, she opened her mouth slightly, wishing for him to continue. Instead, he started laughing and pushed his thumb past her lips inside her mouth. Shocked, she tried to move away but he wouldn’t let her. His thumb pressed down her tongue, the taste slightly salty.

“You like that?” she shook her head but he didn’t believe her. “Should’ve said you came looking for a good time, princess.” “Het ho…!” she tried saying but it was difficult with his thumb still on her tongue. Still, he obliged and removed it from her mouth. “I…I came here to see you!” she admitted, looking at him. “Huh?” Kid sounded intrigued. “Is that so? To do what? Get your little royal pussy fucked by me?” His crew chuckled, some whistled.

“What? N-no!” she said shocked but couldn’t deny the feeling his suggestion left inside of her. Kid hummed as he let his hand move from her chin, down her throat and to her breasts where he shamelessly touched her. Flabbergasted, she jerked away from his touch, her face now beet red. “Who….who do you think you are, pirate?” she asked.

Kid’s grin dropped at her remark. His hand grabbed her throat and pulled her closer to his face; too close right now. Fear struck her and she looked at him wide eyed.

“Do you think you’re better than us?” his low voice rumbled through the air, a shudder ran down her spine. “I don’t care who you are, princess, but don’t think you are above any of us. When I become the pirate king you will bow down to me.” A sinister glint flickered in his eyes which were looking right at her. He didn’t press down on her throat but it still felt like he was choking her.

“Let me join you!” she pressed out. A confused look came on his face and he let go of her. She moved away, holding her throat and looking at him scared. “Let you join us?” he repeated. The princess nodded, not sure what made her say that. The thing she knew for sure was that she wanted to know more about the pirate in front of her; the one who almost choked her, the one who made her feel excited, the one whose picture was hidden inside her drawer.

Kid shook his head in disbelief before getting up again, turning around to return to his original place among his crew.

“I…I want to know more about you.” She admitted. Kid looked at her with a disinterested face, chugging his bottle of sake.

“Go home, princess. You have nothing to offer. You wouldn’t even be beneficial to us if we took you hostage. We can just get the treasure from this island if we want.” It felt like a punch to her guts but she kept her tears at bay.

“Go back to your father and marry this prince. Today was the big day you met him, right?” he chuckled. “I remember reading it in the newspaper. Pretty big event. So, don’t go around chasing pirates like in one of those stupid love stories you chicks keep reading about. Life is nothing like that. Pirates ain’t nothing like the men in those booky. Sorry to burst your bubble, princess.” Everyone was laughing at her; her ignorance regarding pirates, her ignorance regarding life – she was a laughing joke to them.

She couldn’t hold back her tears any longer and they quietly rolled down her cheeks and dropped from her chin to the floor.

“Leave.” She heard him say before she got up, tuned around and ran away, tears blurring her vision. Had she been so wrong about them? About him? But then again, what did she expect? It still felt like a dream had been shattered and it hurt.

#one piece #op #eustass kid #eustasscaptainkid #op kid #kid pirates #captain kid #op killer #killer #requests #part one #maybe a little boring? #idk

[howdoyousleep3]

Miss k hiiiiiiii hello hey 💜💜💜💜 I love your daddies so much they give me the most life ahhhh

so okay I’m a good lil southern girl although I moved away from the south and sometimes I like to let my redneck side come out and today is one of those times 😭 Im outside drinking shitty beer and listening to some old country music and uh I’m havin thots

I just wondered if you ever thought about a real country daddy steve and baby Bucky and what that might be like 😅🥵 like are they both down home country boys? Or does country boy (cowboy also acceptable) daddy steve show city baby boy a good ol country time or 🤤🤤 anyways idk if this will even tickle your fancy but like just know your daddies and babies live rent free in my head and even if you never imagine them as little country boys I doooooo okay bye ily

Ohhhhh, babey! You’re takin’ me back. Y’all know I grew up on a farm and in the country, sheesh. I have a super fucking weak and awful spot for someone that is country country, little southern garbage, ahaha. Give me the bonfires and the PBR (before it became cool and expensive?? I am beside myself lol) and the driving on backroads and giggin’ and those awful flannels with the sleeves cut off and driving way too fast down dirt roads.

Okay for full effect do listen to Big City by Merle Haggard. 🥰

I’ve thought about this kinda AU with Steve and Bucky so much. Like…so much and in all kinds of ways. It more than tickles my fancy, pumpkin. I’ve thought all about a City Boy Bucky rolling through a townsy bar on a Friday night and finding him a big ‘ol Farm Boy Steve and the two of them just falling head over ass for each other. Steve’s never seen anyone that resembles an angel on Earth until he sees those eyes and those lips upturned towards him. And Steve is everything Bucky never knew he could like, beard thick but not as thicc as those thighs and that ass, not donned in tailored suit pants, laugh boisterous, personality taking up as much space as his body does.

I’ve thought about Steve taking Bucky down by the river, teaching him how to catch a catfish with his bare hands, how to bait a hook, how to jump from the rope swing perfectly. I’ve thought about Steve teaching him how to shotgun a beer, how sweet his mama would be on Bucky and her teaching him how to make the perfect peach cobbler from scratch. I squeal inside when I think about Steve sitting there at the kitchen table watching his mama and the boy he’s sure he’s fallen in love with work together beautifully, the dopey look on his face when he takes a bite of Bucky’s warm cobbler and makes a surely inappropriate noise.

“Marry me, darlin’,” he’d joke with an underlying seriousness only he is aware of, and Bucky blushes up a storm, stammers. Steve is left with no choice but to pull Bucky into his lap and kiss him loudly on the cheek before finishing his helping and asking sweetly for another.

I’ve imagined the way they’d dance at the bar to Just Got Started Lovin’ On You, how close they’d be, all lined up together and Bucky moving so gorgeously and easily with Steve’s lead, the two of them looking so disgustingly in love. I’ve thought about the look of pride on Steve’s face when Bucky drinks a heckler right under the table, tequila simultaneously the best and worst thing to ever run through Bucky’s veins. Steve would stop Bucky from getting into a fight not shortly after his competitor concedes, wrapping Bucky up in two strong arms, mouth at his ear, eyes ablaze and wordlessly telling the other man to fuck right off or he’ll let this kitten go.

I’ve thought all about Bucky pushing at Steve, shouting about how he can walk to the truck, and then how he’d damn near topple over on his baby deer legs.

“You done bein’ a brat?” Steve would ask him.

“No. M’grown,” Bucky would huff as Steve wraps an arm around his waist and then picks him up under his knees anyway. Bucky biting him on the jaw for being right.

I’ve pictured Bucky reading to Steve out loud as they lay under a tree, sun high in the sky, hand knocking Steve’s hat off his head and playing with his hair as his head rests in Bucky’s lap. I’ve thought about Bucky explaining city life to Steve, the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple and how tall the buildings are and the job Bucky left behind. I’ve thought about the first time they fight, Steve getting up in his feels about how perfect and smart Bucky is and how he doesn’t deserve to be here with some country bumkin like him.

I’ve imagined how much it tears Steve up, seeing his sassy Buckaroo spittin’ and cryin’ because of him, how he’d let Bucky get in his face with a pointed finger and tell Steve that he better take his words back or else. He’d grab for and hold onto Bucky as he tries to run out of the kitchen and into the yard after Steve says he can’t take them back though, unable to watch Bucky leave.

(For full effect, make sure you do not listen to “Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain” by Willie Nelson, don’t do it, don’t)

I’ve imagined how their makeup sex has them both damn near in tears, how lucky Steve feels to be able to feel someone this close to his body and his heart, Bucky the prettiest thing he’s ever seen gasping there underneath him. I’ve imagined the way City Boy Bucky’s bottom lip would tremble, how his hands would run up and through Steve’s hair as he breathes, “I love you so…so much, Steve. Bubba…” right before Farm Boy Steve curses and cries and makes him come.

Oh yeah, I’ve thought all about this shit, my friend. I’ve let it consume me in full on numerous occasions. Maybe it’s because I projected and dreamt up my own little dream, hehe. Thank you for being in my inbox and for letting me pop off! I hope this is what you wanted. Lub you bunches. 💕

#askK #y'all give me the best opportunities to pop off #City Boy Buck #Farm Boy Steve #stucky #fanfic #i dream a dream #lol #should i make a country playlist #oh lord #i'm in my feels now! #i was writing some to que up but I couldn't wait to share this one

[chaoticneutralwriter]

The Storm

And it all comes crashing down.

guardian demon!jimin x reader

genre: supernatural, angst, romance, fluff, slow-burn

word count: 4.2k

related works: see Masterlist under guardian demon!jimin au

Continuation of The Calm

Warning: uhh...very mild violence and blood?? LOL

A/N: okay woww....it’s uhhh IT’S BEEN A WHILE. And honestly, it has been a mixture of....quarantine burnout (is that a thing?? idk this quarantine kinda hit different), wrestling with scene placement, writer’s block, re-writing chunks of stuff, being indecisive about where to end the chapter (ngl i had some pretty killer cliffys LOLL)  i am SO sorry it took so long!! 😫 (the value in having an ✨outline✨) i know i might sound like a broken record, but i cannot stress enough of how thankful i am to your patience and love for this story!! 💜💜💜💜 i hope you enjoy this chapter in spite of how short it is 😭😭😭😭

(Also yes, that scene is 100% inspired by that gif even though i had already planned for it to happen; the gif helped me paint a better picture 🥰)

Tags: @cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatina @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b @jiminstinct @beautifulparisiangirl @taelieninvader @ggukjitaejin @xakemi-chiix @vantaenims @atulipandarose​ @moments-of-melancholy @xclo02 @cherub-kookie @gottadreamitallaway​ @indiesy​ @disn3yfreak @oerangdoongi @definitelynotshady​ @youmaiiwasherebeforeu​

The chase more or less ends with Jimin hauling you up over his shoulder, only to dump you into the shower shortly after. You get him back for man handling you when, as soon as he flicks the shower on, you drag him in with you, clothes and all.

He had sighed, defeated, muttering how much of handful you are but as much as he gripes, he still helped you wash your hair with the barest hints of a smile on his lips. You were more than happy to return the favour, though you don't think your scalp massage was as good as his. Eventually, he drags the both of you out before your fingers turn pruney.

“You sure you don't want me to walk you back to your place?”

You nod your head as you're slipping on your shoes by the front entrance.

“I'll be fine Jimin. It's still day time so nothing will happen.” You assure, finally glancing up to his figure leaning against the wall, arms crossed and dressed in a new pair of black slacks and a silk loose blouse, its sheen like the colour of the ocean under a blue moon. You straighten, walking the few steps to stand closer to him until you pick up the faint smell of his body wash – warm cinnamon spice, the one that lingers on your skin as well. “Besides, I have your...emergency contact so there's nothing for you to worry about.”

“You say that, but you promise you'll actually use it right?”

The question makes you inadvertently inhale, the reluctance barely concealable in that breath of air but you give in, meeting his eyes as you say, “I will. I promise.”

Jimin doesn't say anything for a moment, watching you with those dark irises until you see the little tension on his face relax with the slight sagging of his shoulders. He smiles, “Good.”

Your mouth twitches at a corner and you can't help yourself. You reach up on the tips of your toes, taking his face into your hands to land a quick peck on the centre of those pillowy pink lips.

“Then you have to promise me you'll focus on getting better – don't strain yourself over small things like this.”

He blinks, eyes large at your burst of forwardness, hands that had moved instinctively to hover finally nestle themselves on your waist. You hear him huff through his nose after a while, expression smoothing over before your vision is blurred by his figure leaning down to press a proper kiss to you in return as he sneakily asks, “What if I asked simply because I wanted to spend more time with you?”

Now it's your turn to gape, breath caught in your throat and eyes wide while blinking dumbly. The more you blinked, the more amused Jimin became and the higher the blush creeps up your cheeks until the heat became unbearable. You sputter, stubbornly trying to ignore it.

“T-That's – ! You – ! No, I will not let you coerce me like this.”

He bursts out laughing heartily at the way you pout, head thrown back and all you could do is narrow your eyes up at him indignantly. When he's finally calmed but still sees you all puffed up like an angry hamster, he wraps his arms around to squeeze you to him, an easy-going smile lingering on his face.

“Ah, I least I tried.”

You sigh, “I'm serious Jimin. No horsing around if you can help it okay?”

Jimin thinks the look you're giving him is equivalent to that of a puppy's; all big and glossy and paired with the barest crinkle of worry in your brow, it leaves him no choice but to agree.

“Okay cherub. I promise I won't.” He says gently and only then do you seem satisfied.

“Good.”

Now that that's settled, you find yourself just standing in each other's arms, nothing more to say yet perfectly comfortable where you are. You find yourself fiddling with the small, dainty buttons on his shirt, a distraction to how shy you've slowly become under his attentive gaze.

“I should probably go now...” You mumble though you make little to no effort in actually doing so.

You hear Jimin hum, seemingly agreeing but he also doesn't make to show any signs of letting you go, even comfortably adjusts his hold on you. He also takes the time to place a kiss on your forehead. “Text me when you get home?”

“Mm.” You nod.

You remain like that for another good minute before it takes everything in you to drag yourself away from his arms, picking up your bag to sling onto your shoulder. You already feel the chill of the AC creeping into your arms as Jimin holds the door open for you.

“I'll see you then?” You ask, then chastise yourself for letting slip the little bit of disappointment you feel at having to leave so soon, however there's no taking back your text to Jaehee saying that you'll be on your way (she's definitely not someone you want to delay meeting).

Jimin eyes gleam with a knowing look though, like he's tossing around the idea of teasing you but instead, says playfully, “Of course, can't get rid of me that easily.”

You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes with a shake of your head which only seems to satisfy him.

The trip home gave you the time to reflect on yourself and on the events that had happened. There's a lightness to your steps – no doubt finally meeting Jimin after a period of confusion and hurt and letting the floodgates to the emotions you've kept buried free has cleared the clog in your heart. On top of that, to have your guardian demon return the feelings you've long convinced yourself were futile; thought nothing more than a self-sabotaging trap designed by no one but you and your only escape from it was to take the plunge.

Yet here you are, relatively unscathed. To be honest, even now you're still in disbelief.

But you won't dismiss this warm giddiness that's taken over easily, just as how you're leisurely soaking in the rays of the late afternoon sun now. It bathes everything in a glow that has every colour in your eyes appear much more crisp and vibrant, making the city lively. It further brightens your mood.

Once you've crossed the threshold of your home, you immediately hear Jaehee's call of greeting from the kitchen.

“Did you eat yet?” She asked right off the bat as you enter after toeing off your shoes.

“Yeah, I ate before I left.”

She nods, continuing her chopping for what you can only assume is dinner for tonight.

“So...everything worked out okay?”

It's asked tentatively but the question doesn't surprise you as much as it should; whether it's because of Jaehee's prior awareness to your troubles, your deep-rooted friendship, or simply sensing the obvious complete shift in your mood, she very well knows where you've been without having to probe much.

Still, you can't help smiling.

The forecast calls for mild, clear weather like today for the days to follow. It's no doubt something a lot of people will be capitalizing on, a relief from the unpredictable temperatures between the changing of seasons. Perhaps it's with that same mindset, you find yourself being able to swallow back the niggling uncertainty that seems to always follow you.

You'll save your worrying for another day, but for now, you want to hold onto these promised sunny days for as long as you can.

“Yeah,” You breathe, “Everything's good.”

You see Jaehee's lips quirk up, a light smile that lets you know she's just as happy as you are to hear that. But then as she turns towards you, it morphs into a sly Cheshire grin.

“Spill it, girl. I need those details.”

-

The startled gasp that rings out in the dead of night seemed unnaturally loud in the dark spacious room that for a moment, Jimin thought it had belonged to a tormented ghost that had wandered its way in. After a few shuddering breaths did it occur to him that the sound had actually came from him.

His eyes slip shut once again, rubbing them tiredly as he inhales a deep breath before letting it out. Dragging his hand down his face, Jimin sits up, body feeling as if it's made of lead and rolled his neck and shoulders, trying to relieve the joints that are aching dully before reluctantly hauling himself out of bed, the dryness in his throat uncomfortable as is the clamminess of his skin after being drenched by cold sweat – it doesn't take much to know that he won't be able to slip into a blissfully empty state of slumber for the rest of the night.

His feet takes him into the kitchen and his hand grabs for a glass of water which he downs absentmindedly. The drink soothes the burning in his throat but the same cannot be said for the storm slowly brewing inside of him. Eyes as dark as the sky outside the large windows stare out listlessly, his mind slipping into deep thought.

How many times is that now? Four? Five?

For a number of nights, he's been plagued by these dreams – nightmares.

At first they were vague, mostly indiscernible as if shrouded by thick black smoke that whenever Jimin woke from them, the most he would feel is a sense of unease but soon afterwards, the feeling and the memory of it would fade as quick as it came.

But as the days passed, these dreams slowly mutated into something more vicious, taking a hold of his unconsciousness before he had the time to react.

And it was always the same dream.

Not knowing when or how he got there, Jimin would find himself in a formless space, surrounded from all sides by an endless ocean of white veils. They rolled and danced ceaselessly, much like turbulent waves out at open sea and he was the small boat being battered against the powerful force, threatening to capsize. The shifting and turning disoriented him, made his stomach churn and head spin but no matter how stubbornly he tried to run, he could never escape.

So all he could do was stand in place, and as the dancing veils begin to close in on him, the air around would become thinner and thinner until he was gasping for breath, lungs burning with no hope of holding in an ounce of air. Soon after his knees would collapse under him. As he's reduced to this weakened state, it's only then that he'll see it.

Amidst this deceivingly tranquil prison, a figure emerged in the distance, its shape distinctly outlined by the large pale fabric that continue to billow around by an invisible breeze, appearing very much like a ghostly apparition. At the sight, a chill would instantly run down Jimin's spine as if his blood had turned into ice and in the vast silence, only the deafening beating of his heart would fill his ears. For an unknown amount of time, this figure would simply stand ominously without moving. Then suddenly, it would advance, moving at a startling speed and so soundlessly with each blink of his eyes that before he could think, it was already towering over him like a great marble statue.

Like death encroaching.

Jimin could only wait frozen in place by the oppressive force bearing down on him, staring up with shaking pupils and it's then that he knew what it is that looks down upon him.

Divine judgment.

There's a stale and tar-like taste that blooms in his mouth first, then slowly, as the last remains of his strength leaves his body, he finally notices the cold dampness spreading outwards from his chest.

The blade that pierces through him was as dark as the blood it's coated in.

It's here that he wakes from the shock of the phantom pain so intense they momentarily blur the line between reality.

He's not one for superstitions or 'prophetic dreams', being a demon and all but he's by no means unfamiliar with them, especially now when they hit him in the face like this – so viciously and frequently too. A heavy sigh leaves his lips.

The last few days had been quiet; the first in... he's not sure how long. Perhaps that's why he slipped up like this, got caught up in believing that this sweet lie could be true. That maybe, by some miracle, there was a chance for the both of you.

Jimin scoffs a quiet laugh and his mouth twists into a cold smile.

How foolish; to think that they can be more than just wishful thinking.

Heaven is righteous, boasting to have eyes and ears in places without one knowing and yet so frivolous in what they choose to acknowledge.

And it's just his luck that the one time he was counting on that fact, it completely backfired on him.

There's no avoiding this; it's clear that any day now some divine being is going to descend upon him in the name of carrying out justice for the crimes he's committed. If not for the breached guardian contract, then for failing to complete the trials to prove his piety.

Jimin's eyes slips shut, tipping his head down, the ache along his neck and shoulders creeping over him once again – ever lingering, never fading – and all he could do is accept.

Alone in this large and empty penthouse, Jimin felt no anger, no remorse or fear, only a quiet sense of mourning he allowed for himself. However fleeting it may have been, those few days spent with you will be something he'll remember fondly. He thought, if this had been where his luck had went, then he at least can be reassured that it wasn't a complete waste.

Just as his eyes peer back open, the first rays of dawn had begun to bleed through the horizon, dispersing the darkened sky with the coming of a new day. As he watches the sun begin to rise, Jimin's expression hardened along with his resolve.

One thing’s for certain; no matter what happens, he'll keep you safe.

Until the very bitter end.

-

There's something amiss.

He can't quite place his finger on it, but Jungkook didn't go about his day without feeling an inexplainable sense of dread hanging over him like a heavy cloak that won't leave him. It felt as if every nerve in his body is coiled, restless and bracing for something to happen. As such, he's developed an annoying ache across the back of his neck and shoulder which he had to constantly roll in order to dispel some of the built up tension.

It didn't help, so it only made Jungkook endlessly irritated.

Wanting to blow off some of this steam, he had taken to wandering the streets in search of an outlet. Unfortunately, there's only so much he could do given his status in the mortal world. Playing the shoulder devil whispering temptations, tipping the scale between life or death, fortune or misfortune on a person was only fun while it lasted, and Jungkook was a demon who grew bored very easily of those same old basic tricks. Although there's the option of materializing briefly to cause more mischief, it took way too much power to maintain a physical form so at most, he would only be able to have fun messing with one or two souls but not nearly having enough time to really string them along to his heart's content. After all, the thrill of being a demon comes from withering down their prey, dragging them so deep into depravity before they realize it's too late and there's no saving them.

He sighs inwardly, thinking about all the lost potential, especially now that he's in possession of such a fine specimen. How delightful it would be to see the lengths men and women would go to hold onto even a sliver of his attention, to have them so tightly wound around his fingers just to leave them high and dry. Truly, this was the pain of having a great weapon but being unable to use it.

It makes Jungkook consider how more convenient it would be if he had formed contract with someone, similar to what Jimin had done.

Speaking of, he wonders what had become of you and his fellow demon brother, as the last he's heard of either one of you, one was on a war path while the other's aura signature was reduced so greatly that he didn't need to make much of an effort to be scarce. As much as he's tempted to go find out what's become of you both, Jungkook had to hold himself back. He's told himself that after directing you to your lost guardian demon (as you had practically begged him to do), he's vowed to severe his involvement if he knew what was good for him.

Things were obviously only going to get messier, and no doubt he would be catching any of the fallout if he decides to stick around, even if it's just to satisfy his own burning curiousities.

Jungkook continues to wander aimlessly like this, thoughts bouncing from the matters surrounding you pair to toying with the idea of actually finding some hidden cult who's ballsy enough to try a demon summoning (nine times out of ten it's a shoddy job but fuck is it funny to see their faces thinking it had worked, plus he's guaranteed a couple of souls to his count too).

Above, the sun dips in and out continuously, the constant shift in light distracting Jungkook. He watches and notes idly the fast pace in which the clouds travel, how the white wisps grow and the sky begins to look tumultuous until gradually, they become so dense they completely block the sun out altogether. With the warm rays no longer casting down, the world plunges into a gloomy grey overcast.

A frown tugs onto his lips unconsciously, but the premonition of rain was not what troubled him.

He had the mind to quicken his steps when suddenly they falter. It felt like something had told him to stop, so for a moment he stood confused, turning his head in search for a source until Jungkook's gaze stray over to a small, narrow side street. The street looked like a much older part of the city in the style of the buildings; he can't honestly say he's ever noticed this part before so for it to catch his attention....

Jungkook is already taking tentative steps down the rough cobble stone path without realizing, slowly making his way past the few small family owned shops. He's going off solely on this gut-feeling, almost as if in a trance which after blinking, does he notice he's staring at a particular store front of a shop. His brows furrow even more from confusion, not understanding why he was drawn here.

The shop looked like it hadn't been rented out for many years, the paint so worn down and faded that it didn't resemble the rich forest green colour it once was, even peeling in some places to show the wood underneath. The lacquered sign above has also lost its shine, and whatever script that has been written on it has long become indecipherable. Jungkook had to squint just to make out the faint imprint of the letters 'S' and what he thinks might be 'P' and a 'TH'.

Despite the windows being dirtied, he could still tell that inside the shop was nothing but barren space, the wall shelves filled with dust and cobwebs, the tables empty with only traces of the trinkets it once held. Time had let this place be forgotten, erased its name from existing in any memory, yet it's here Jungkook finds himself lingering, wondering why?

What secrets does this place hold?

Naturally, he can't let this anomaly go lest he drives himself mad. Jungkook takes a step towards the shop, a hand outstretched with the intentions of investigating further when from out of his peripheral he sees something. Whipping his head to it, his eyes lock onto a figure standing at the head of the street from where he had came.

The inexplainable driving force he had immediately vanishes, replaced with the sensation of his body going numb all over, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on ends. Not like the presence of this ominous figure on its own incited such a reaction, but it's also in the way it looked.

Tall in such a way that it's imposing, and draped in a pure white cloak, giving away nothing of what lies beneath. The only feature he's able to make out was the golden halo crown encircling it from behind; a stark contrast. There's no questioning whether or not it can be seen by anyone other than himself – this appearance alone clearly did not belong in this world.

It is not of this world.

Jungkook needed to remain calm. He can't afford to let slip that he's unnerved – that's a sure fire way to getting killed first because fear ultimately blinds. Still, he can't stop the tenseness in his shoulders and the ache comes back with a vengeance. Swallowing, Jungkook inhales and jaw clenched, he turns to leave as if having never seen this phantom at all.

His strides are long, determined to put distance between it and himself, all the while his senses are going into overdrive. He's hyper-aware as he swiftly makes his way through narrow streets and alleys, twisting and turning with no rhyme or reason but he already knows he won't be losing this unwanted tail any time soon. So he changes tactics, figuring that he might as well get the jump on it first before giving it the opportunity.

Jungkook apparates out of the alley, appearing in a busy crowded street and just as fast, he changes to a rooftop. Within these few short seconds, he spins on his heels, gathering a fistful of demonic energy in his hand ready to hurl it the moment he sees any hint of white cloth, body instinctively adapting a fighting stance. However, as his piercing topaz eyes dart around, he finds nothing.

The air around him is still, like the overpowering presence had all but disappeared. Down below, he faintly hears the bustling of people, the sound of cars driving by, even now he becomes aware of how hard he's breathing, the adrenaline pumping through his veins has his heart racing.

Still, Jungkook doesn't dare drop his guard, backing away cautiously as if he's on pins and needles. He's focusing all of his senses, trying to pick up anything that might seem strange over the white noise of the city. He listens, until it all goes eerily quiet.

 Jungkook sees before he can react, its speed far more faster than he could have ever anticipated, and all he manages is a sharp, startled gasp. The rest of the air gets blocked by an iron grip around his throat but even then, he's given no time to fully register this as he feels his back crashing into a hard surface with impeccable force and an explosive pain erupts. He chokes on a mouthful of blood.

“Filthy vermin should not waste time struggling so uselessly.”

Jungkook winces, nauseated by the throbbing of his head alone – now he has this voice that seems to be ringing from inside his head.

“The fate of thy life depends on the answer thee giveth me.” The hold tightens and Jungkook swears his neck would give out before he's able to make a sound (how very counter-productive, he thinks in spite of himself).

“Where is he?”

Struggling through the black dots in his vision, Jungkook finally pinpoints the identity of his aggressor. The dry laugh he wanted to let out comes out as a cough but it carries the disbelief and scorn all the same.

White cloak, oppressing aura, immense strength and speed, and a voice that sounded neither man nor woman. There's no mistaken it now.

Fuck, since when was his luck so shit that an archangel finds him first?

-

The clouds had rolled in much faster than Jimin had thought, the sight reminiscent to being under murky waters. He wonders if at this rate, it would darken even further though he supposes he shouldn't bother. After all, this was no mere storm out of the blue.

He raises the cup and takes a sip of his black coffee, closing his eyes as if to savour the bitterness. Jimin doesn't bother to finish the rest of it, even if it's a waste not to. But there's no helping it, not when he was expecting a visitor. He gingerly places the drink aside on the counter first, then redirects his gaze to the large expanse of his windows at a leisurely pace.

There's not a hint of shock as his eyes meet the figure cloaked in white, hovering on the other side of the glass panels. The layers of chiffon flutter softly against the rising winds, the golden glint of each spike on the crown adorning its head menacing, as if it's a weapon in and of itself.

Behind, the sky darkens forbiddingly, and soon after comes the distant rumbling of thunder.

#jimin x you #jimin x reader insert #demon!jimin au #bts supernatural au #jimin scenario #jimin fic #jimin fics #jimin fanfic #jimin fanfics #jimin fluff #jimin scenarios #park jimin imagines #park jimin fanfic #park jimin fics #park jimin fanfics #park jimin fic #jimin angst #guardian demon!jimin

[gumnut-logic]

The Cane (Part 2)

@flyboytracy​ asked:

Steampunk AU: five uses for a cane and one time Scott used it for its intended purpose 😘 

Part 1 | Part 2

And here we have number two :D A bit longer than expected and I will be falling face-first into bed shortly, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Many thanks to @janetm74​ @tsarinatorment​ and @scribbles97​ for all their help and amazing support of my crazy. And to @flyboytracy​ for asking in the first place.

Use Number Two...

-o-o-o-

2.

There are places in the ocean where the natural forces of the planet cause a lack of wind, a becalm that is the bane of wind reliant seafaring vessels.

Thunderbird Five had no such issues and in times of need, these quiet, still places were a refuge for tired bodies and minds.

A series of rescues off the coast of Chile that saw not only strenuous physical activity, but also almost violent politicking on John’s part. The world agreed, in the majority, to the advantages of an International Rescue organisation, but there were some outliers.

Suspicion was high in a few countries and while John spoke a multitude of languages, not all the brothers had managed as many and the grapevine had identified their country of origin to be English speaking.

Not everyone loved the English speaking world.

Regardless, International Rescue persisted. There were lives at stake and they needed saving.

Sometimes it wasn’t easy and this was one of those times.

Grandma had called for time off, and it had been with some relief John steered his ‘bird out into the expanse of the eastern Pacific into one of those pockets of beautiful calm.

They were lucky this time. The ocean surface was gentle, the swell minimal and Five had been able to surface. A careful manipulation of her propulsion system and she was maintaining a stable hover. Her huge expanse had her forming an island in the middle of calm sea.

Waves brushed against her flanks.

From her dorsal hatches a weary crew crawled out into the sun.

Grandma was adamant that they all receive regular sunshine and here in the sub-tropics, there was ample.

Scott climbed the ladder, cane in hand, body aching from the roll down a mountainside it had endured the day before. He had bruises on bruises and Virgil was hovering like a flying bug that just wouldn’t go away.

His fingers gripped the edge of Five’s hull and he clambered out on to the damp cahelium.

She was already warming in the sun, her stealth-dark, midnight blue skin sucking in heat and drying quickly.

Scott straightened, stretching his back. His cane hit cahelium with a thud.

“You watch you don’t scratch John’s ‘bird. He’s upset enough after having to deal with that governor.” Virgil poked his head out of the hatch behind Scott, following like the shadow he was.

Scott couldn’t complain too much. Virgil had been the one to pull him off the side of that mountain and he had received quite a scare.

The hovering was the result.

A whine from within in the submarine. “John, you’ve got an obstruction in the dorsal hatch. Have you got a torpedo I can borrow?”

Virgil twisted and glared into the hatch below. “Gordon!”

“You have a tear in your breeches, dear brother. I’m seeing things that would have Grandma blushing.”

Virgil grunted, twisting again. “Very little makes Grandma blush. She has seen you in your birthday suit multiple times, after all.”

“Move your derriere, Virgil. I need some sun.”

Scott turned his back on the both of them and limped across the top of his brother’s ‘bird.

Dividing the massive expanse was her huge dorsal fin. It served a dual purpose. There was, of course, the stability it supplied to her underwater flight, but it also provided a division between the two hidden launch platforms embedded in her structure.

Five needed to surface just like this to deploy two of her sister Thunderbirds. On the starboard side a huge section of her hull opened like a door to the sky...which is exactly how it felt when Scott was sitting in One and Five’s hatch levered her vertical enabling him to launch into the blue.

On the port side, the hull would slide back and the floor of the hanger would angle up, pointing Thunderbird Two at a forty-five degree angle so Virgil could fire her engines. She launched in as spectacular a fashion as her sister, engines clawing into the stratosphere.

But neither hatch was open right now. Both One and Two were hidden in their hangars, ready for new deployment as soon as it was needed.

The mud they had had to clean out of their ‘birds had taken a long time.

He exhaled and let his shoulders relax just a little. The salt in the air was ever so refreshing.

“How are you feeling?” Virgil’s voice was quiet behind him.

Scott fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Perfectly well, Virgil.” He may have been leaning on his cane a little more than usual, but that is what the thing was for, wasn’t it?

His brother grunted, eyeing him. “Do you want to sit down?”

A glance at Virgil and his eyes were caught by Gordon behind him, hauling several folding chairs out of the hatch, followed by a chattering Alan.

The sounds were rather homey and reassuring.

Grandma appeared with food and drink and Scott actually smiled.

Their grandmother was an amazing woman. Not only was she a medical doctor, one of the first women to take on that traditionally male qualification, she was also determined to look after them despite the fact they lived on a submarine.

Scott could have argued that Thunderbird Five was no place for a lady – if he wanted his intestines served up to him on a plate.

He didn’t.

His grandmother was a staunch supporter of the women’s suffrage movement. Scott couldn’t help but agree with women’s rights when he had such a capable and strong example right before him.

That and she could cook like she was heaven sent.

His brothers spread out the chairs and a few tables. Grandma had obviously picked up some supplies from their stop over in California the week before.

Scott took a seat and both a small stack of sandwiches and a tall glass of lemonade appeared beside him. He would have complained about the smothering, but he was distracted by an argument brewing between his two youngest brothers.

The lemonade was divine.

“She is big enough.”

“No, she’s not.”

“Yes, she is. I bet you fifty dollars.”

“Gordon, if you think Johnny is going to let you play baseball on the back of his ‘bird, you are off with the fairies.” Virgil was striding over to both of the youngest who were hovering off to one side, obviously conspiring.

The thought of a baseball match was amusing when he pictured John’s response.

But for once, he let it go. Virgil had it in hand, his second discussing the topic with Alan and Gordon in a low but strident voice. Trusting his brother, he ignored them, focussed on his lunch, and drank more of that delicious lemonade.

At some point, Grandma sat down beside him and they discussed their next movements – whether to follow the weather or centralise ready to respond as quickly as possible wherever they were needed.

It became very obvious that his grandmother had picked the topic for a reason as she eventually made her point that they needed some extended rest time.

She even informed him that Virgil had also been injured the previous day. Mildly, but a wrenched shoulder was an injury nonetheless.

His grandmother had held him back and hissed at him to keep it quiet. Virgil was taken care of, but he and the rest of his brothers needed time to recuperate.

Scott seethed that his brother, who was still frowning at Gordon, hadn’t informed him of the injury. Grandma claimed that Virgil had come to her for some of her creams and she had no wish to betray his trust, but they needed to slow down for a little while.

Scott shifted where he sat and his entire body complained.

Perhaps she had a point.

He sighed, swearing under his breath enough for her to frown at him, but he nodded in agreement. Three days of rest.

His grandmother had a beautiful smile.

Especially when she achieved her goals.

She patted his leg gently before standing up. A shadow passed over the sun and Scott looked up to find her propping up one of her parasols on the back of his chair.

“What are you doing?”

“Too much sun can burn. You know that. But you need the fresh air.” Her purple satin skirts rustled about his shoulder and they triggered memories of his younger self spending time with her.

It was comforting.

Enough for her to secure the parasol and scamper off to do the same for John, who had fallen asleep three chairs over, before Scott could object further.

His red-haired brother was exhausted, and his head had fallen back, gaping at the sky. In that position, it was likely his tongue would get sunburnt.

Grandma was right…as usual…they needed time to recover.

Alan, Gordon and Virgil were still huddled off to one side and the murmur of their discussion, combined with the warmth of the day and the lap of the ocean, melted him just a little. His muscles unwound. The aches in his leg and his bones were still there, but with the thought of time to rest, some of the tension began to slip away.

He must have dozed off at some point because he was startled awake by the sound of breaking glass.

“Oh, hell.”

“Alan, you clutz!”

“Gordon!” Virgil’s admonishment had Scott blinking into full consciousness.

The remains of that amazing lemonade lay spread across the table, his pants, and Five’s hull.

There was glass everywhere.

“What?”

Alan came hurrying over. “I’m sorry, Scott!”

He stared wide eyed at his little brother. “What were you doing?”

“Uh, playing baseball.”

Scott stared at him before turning to see both Virgil and Gordon looking rather sheepish on the far side of the submarine. Gordon had what appeared to be a length of wood in one hand.

Grandma bustled over and handed Gordon a rag and an empty bowl to gather up the pieces of glass.

There were stern words.

Scott’s brain was still trying to connect the dots, his brain slow to cycle up.

Gordon elbowed Virgil in the ribs and whispered something at him. Virgil glared in return.

Grandma reappeared with a broom and Alan was marshalled into sweeping Five’s hull.

Scott closed his eyes and shook his head before grabbing his cane and levering himself to his feet.

Everything creaked.

A stride or two towards his guilty-appearing brothers and his body loosened into its more familiar flexibility. “What exactly are the two of you trying to prove?”

Gordon stuck out his chin. “That baseball can be played on the back of a giant submarine in the Eastern Pacific.”

Scott stared at him a moment before dismissing him as a lost cause and turning to Virgil, who he had thought was much smarter than this.

“Your excuse?”

Virgil shrugged. “Just having some fun, Scott.’

And there it was – the likely reason Gordon and Alan had involved the engineer. Virgil never did anything without a logical reason and when asked he always…always…had the answer that softened Scott to the point of forgiving almost anything.

However…

“What about John?” He glanced over at his brother and found him still down for the count. Ever so tired. “You could have hit him, or Grandma or me. Baseballs are not soft. You could have done some serious injury.” It was very much unlike Virgil to take such a risk. Even Gordon wouldn’t do such a thing.

“That’s why we didn’t use baseballs.” Virgil held up a round white object which he then proceeded to squash between his fingers. “I used some of our aerated rubber solution to make a dozen or so soft balls. They float, have low impact damage, and Gordon is planning on a swim to collect every single one after the game.”

Logical and always had the answer.

Scott picked the ball out of Virgil’s hand. It was soft, very squishy and made from the rubber foam they stored in Two for stabilising structures.

He squeezed it again.

It was rather satisfying to watch it reinflate.

“Want to play?” The dark eyebrow that arched up at him knew exactly what it was doing.

Scott pressed his lips together.

Virgil fought back a smile.

Damnit.

“Fine. Who’s pitching?”

Gordon snorted a laugh. “That was Allie and he took out your drink.”

“It wouldn’t have broken anything if you were half capable of hitting a ball.” Alan sounded very put out.

Grandma urged him to keep cleaning.

Scott broke into a grin. “How about I give it a go and you pitch?”

Gordon matched his expression and stole the ball out of Scott’s hand. “Sure. Batter up.” He held out the chunk of wood that was apparently serving as a bat.

Scott frowned. It looked suspiciously like a table leg. Hmm…

“No, I think I’ll use this.” He held up his cane.

Gordon arched an eyebrow. “Really?”

Scott smirked a little. “Yes, really.”

His brother shrugged and threw the table leg down with a clatter that had John muttering in his sleep.

Scott dug his little brother in the ribs.

“Oops, sorry.”

That earned him a grunt.

They ended up moving the game further away from their sleeping brother. Gordon complained that he would have to swim after all the balls and every single one was likely to end up in the water.

Virgil said it would do him good and might even be fun.

Gordon’s response was enough to earn him a glare from Grandma.

Scott bit his lip to stop grinning harder.

Virgil set himself up as catcher. Gordon paced out a distance and curled up in a way that was somehow what a pitcher was supposed to do. The brass of his prosthetics shone in the sun.

But then Gordon had always been an odd pitcher.

Scott levered his cane onto his shoulder and tensed, ready to hit the ball.

Gordon grinned somewhat devilishly.

“Bring it on, fishboy.”

-o-o-o-

John had slept very well. Fresh air often did that for him. By the time he woke, the sun was starting to dip towards the horizon.

“How are you feeling?” Grandma was sitting beside him, a small smile on her face. A book lay in her lap.

“Good.” John returned the smile. The breeze had picked up a little and he could hear it in the waves as they sloshed against the side of his ‘bird.

A frown. “Where is everyone?”

“Hiding.”

He sat up. Most of the tables and chairs were missing and he could only assume they had been tidied inside.

“Why?”

“Because Scott apparently doesn’t know his own strength. Or how to play baseball.”

John’s eyes widened. “What?”

Grandma pointed up at Five’s giant dorsal fin.

The very top of it was bent over to one side.

“How on Earth…?”

“I would think it was the cahelium Virgil worked into your brother’s cane. Virgil says he’ll have it fixed within the half hour.”

John stared at her. Five had rammed ships in the past with barely a dent.

His grandmother smiled and patted his leg. “All will be well, dear. Don’t you worry.” She rose from her chair, turned and folded it, heading towards the hatch obviously go inside. “Don’t stay out too long.”

The wind tousled John’s hair as he stared up at the damage to his ‘bird.

He had no words.

-o-o-o-

Next

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Alan Tracy #Grandma Tracy #Sally Tracy #where there be dragons au #an attempt at Steampunk

[hauntedelation]

Seize The Throne

(Picture found on Google, I don’t own.)

Description: He was always so reckless, drawn and following the darkest paths in life. You can’t help but chase after him with stars in your eyes and a bizarre thrill churning your gut. Maybe this time things were too heavy for you.

Pairing: Black Female Reader x Will Shaw

A/N: I recently watched one of my favorite mob movies, Goodfellas, and fell back in love with that gritty image. A good friend of mine, @hope-to-hell, had already created her world of Mob!Will and has several parts out featuring him and his chaotic ways. Part one, part two, and part three explore so many depths to him and that heart-pounding life. I strongly suggest reading!

Her writing of this version of Will was my most favorite and I really wanted to try to pay homage to that. I hope I did good love, 🥺💗

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, gore and blood play, minor character death, reader sustains injuries, some fluff if you squint. I do not recommend if you happen to be sensitive to these topics. Please heed the warnings.

Proofread as much as I could, Please enjoy guys!

➽─────────────❥

The bottle is sat down next to your leg with a soft clink. Sand and sporadic rocks mold around the glass, holding the claret drink inside upright.

You feel your body hum pleasantly. The vibrations stem from the top of your head, down through your thighs, and settle in your toes, which are currently sunken into the warm clasp of the shore.

Salt and a hint of cinder brush your face and press through your hair, tousling the tight ringlets out of your eyes and behind your ear. You take in a breath while the wind dies down. To the very depth of your lungs, you allow the night to enter you. 

The water is cool; blue as can be. It just about matched the sky earlier that morning, save for the bunching of storm clouds trailing toward the horizon. 

It’s a wonderful feeling against your feverish skin, but it doesn’t fail to sting the cuts on your feet. You don’t move a muscle, not any closer to the swirling foam, but you ponder, maybe it will help.

You're unwound and you had been ever since you came closer to the sand. Head dancing blissfully and filling with each drop of the piquant wine, your visions were growing far more spirited than they had been for the last several hours.

The deal with Holford went to shit. 

➽─────────────❥

You weren't sure why you were strung along with this one. Will had been disrupted, true, but he was always that way whenever a deal this significant came along. The other guys were unknown, fresh in the game but garnered enough reputation to be talked to. He insisted that you were to not be left at the house, too much risk, he couldn’t see you.

Much of the originally agreed amount was lost, the usual inquiry and loaded threats were slung from either side. Forty thousand was at stake, and the bastards dared to show up with only a quarter of that. 

You were there resting two rooms down in a decaying office, listening to those voices, Will’s, Syverson, and maybe another. There was a restive silence,  before a guttural shout and a bang was sent out, followed by an explosion of more. You felt your heart throb clear in your throat.

It was difficult to keep track, and the walls of that building were already so abysmally thin. There was a good possibility that if a punch was thrown, it would put a hole right in the plaster.

Bullets went through the drywall and sprinkled chalky dust into your hair. You had the right mind to jerk away and hit the floor. The concrete was chilly and layered with the filth that reminded you of a public subway. Upon impact, you were no doubt painted with inky marks on your knees and elbows.

You didn't cry out, none of it could be heard anyway. Yet, you did a fine job keeping whatever you wanted to scream out on the inside. You held your breath and ducked your head to the lowest point of the room. 

It all tumbled over, that composure, soon after witnessing the man protecting you get his insides blown out.

From under the table, those projectiles continued to whizz in and out of the walls. Daniel, you think the kid’s name was, though he was only four years younger than you he had the face of a youth. He was always polite, getting you whatever it was that you wanted, afraid of disappointing.

They should have known he wasn't ready, wasn't skilled enough for any of this. 

The door was kicked at, the brass lock weakening and soon falling away. Daniel whipped around, his machine gun tucked against his armpit and trembling finger on the trigger. He let out a few shots at a sharp speed, laying more holes in the door before dashing to the side. 

He was panting, his big brown eyes glancing to you before pulling out another magazine from his pocket. 

A deafening boom went through the wood, and the door flew open revealing colossal-sized boots stomping in. You don’t recall a second shot. Everything had been stunned, from your ability to move to any volume in your ears. All that was, had been ringing.

That gunshot indeed came, because you saw the kid fall back. 

Crimson rained down over you and you felt the warmth dot your skin, covering the shade of your nail polish. Your eyes reopened and picked up far more carnage—tiny pieces of him all over the vicinity. Bone and flesh, some landing near your hands on the floor. 

His body toppled to the ground. You remember how he landed, head smacking against the solid concrete and his eyes opened wider than saucers. 

He was in shock, gurgling and spitting up blood down his chin. His fingers desperately scrambled for the handle of his machine gun, but it was kicked far out of his reach.

The faceless gunman placed Daniel’s chest under his boot, crushing the torn hole in his middle and forcing more distressed wails from the young man. Before the kid was able to cry any longer, he was cut off by another boom.

There wasn't much time to respond then. Your longtime guard was desecrated, all the life drained from him the instant the third shot was sent from the twelve gauge.

And all that you continued to hear, was ringing.

As that cliché says: time slowed to a standstill. Bullets pelted the surfaces, nonstop and in every direction. Devastation surged, wood chips and old papers swept up, and heavy footsteps trudged all throughout the concrete floors. You spent your lifetime under that table, cowering away from the turmoil. 

Along your cheeks, and falling to your hands you saw the clear, salty liquid bend and mix with that young man’s blood

The make-shift shelter lasted a mere five minutes, then it was flipped over. Glasses and other items shattered onto the ground and spread to every corner of the room. 

Directly after, your wrist was snatched in a viselike grip.

He had nails, this beast holding on to you. They were long, jagged, and digging far into your flesh. You sucked in the mucid air, holding back everything in your throat: bile, sobs, whatever it was. The man dictated something in your ear, along the lines of, 

‘Keep that pretty fucking mouth shut before I pack it full with lead.’

It was more than a motivator. He adjusted his hold and dragged you toward the entryway of the room, pushing aside Daniel's lifeless body. Your free hand braced against the ground, but your legs were left dragging. It was grueling, finding leverage to move with the man.

With each manipulation the brute had on your body, each step of his feet and yank to your wrist, your legs caught shards of the glass and were sliced open. Amid this, the lacerations on your wrist gradually formed under his nails and began to drip hot down your arm. He was moving with purpose until he stalled right near the doorframe.

More bellows and pops of machine guns echoed against the stone.

The man was waiting, probably for the next cue. Or, maybe he was considering that last threat to you, should he go through with it?

How could you know?

After a while, you couldn’t feel anything at all. You couldn't feel the barrel of the gun pressed against your temple, your vein pumping against the hot surface, and the circulation around your wrist anymore. Your skin grew cold, vision drawing away. The lights in the room dimmed and you finally lept in a dark tunnel.

The weight between your shoulders slumped toward the ground.

 .

 .

 .

 It was shortly thereafter, seconds later, that those same voices came much closer than before. Your wrist ached but no longer were you under that crushing grip. The steaming metal of the shotgun was absent from your skin, though the pressure would forever be burned against your skull. 

The only sensation that remained were calluses grazing against your skin.

There were no longer any gunshots, no more footsteps, or even glass shattering. The masculine tones in your ears surfaced and started to be particularly familiar. Those hands on your body, the clammy palms securing your jaw, it was real.

You felt how damp the thumb pads were and the sticky residue that was left behind along the line of your cheek. 

Opening your lids was taxing, but you saw dark curls stuck to a creased forehead. A fresh gash was drawn on an eyebrow and dozens of bruises on that handsome face. A pink lip painfully split nearly in two. 

The light was beaming around his head and the source was different than the one in that previous room. There were more windows. Natural light revealed one side of his form, highlighting his dewy skin and the dampness of his shirt. 

The deep red splotches covering his body.

Your pupils dilated and centered on his face. He was panting, tongue swiping at that cut on his bottom lip. His voice read a steadied, but fraught question.

‘Hey—hey, Doll. You’re here with me, yeah?’

Will’s focus was dashing across your face and the rest of your body. His breathing jolted when he caught your pupils, but never did he lose grip of that solid poise. He reached up and his fingers smeared more pungent liquid on your face, forcing the iron-laced odor into your nostrils. 

You coughed, grunting at the rough scratch along your throat. Your lips pressed together before you forced your head to nod weakly. You were sore, and you didn't really wish to move your legs at the moment. The hairs of his arm grazed against your fingertips. With a flex to your good wrist, you took hold of him.

You were breathing. You could see, you could hear, and while every bit of your nerves flared and pinched—you...were alive.

Will released a sigh low within his chest and out of his nose. The strain in his shoulders released a fraction, yet the muscles in his back maintained the stiff shape. His eyes were cognitive and lingered keenly on yours. He didn't choose to say anything else, and neither did you. 

Your throat and your lungs felt as if they were packed with dust. And, what was there to say?

He dismissed a question that was brought up by a ragged-looking Sy. The veteran stopped his pacing by a blown-out window and shook his head. In a blur behind Will, you saw him remove his cap and use his stained shirt to wipe at the sweat on his buzzed head. 

The air around Will's head was spiraling, the remnants of the firefight clinging to the air around you. You squinted and looked past the fog to see mutilated bodies, with thousands of bullet casings littering the floor. 

Limbs twisted around, mangled, with pools of blood swallowing up each of the remains.

Every member of the Holford group was dressed in matching tan-colored suits, the corpses' jackets now drawn with scarlet. You weren't sure if you could answer the question, which man had been the one who grabbed you? Who killed Daniel?

Maybe he was one that slipped away.

Your braids moved from your face, the soft hairs by your forehead pushed back and smoothed away. Will's fingers, thoroughly slick with blood, left behind glistening streaks in their wake. 

 .

 .

 .

 Following a short phone call made by Syverson, you three and the remaining number of Will’s men vacated the building. Duffle bags of cash and anything else that was of importance was secured.

While you made your way out of the structure, you caught the sight of armed workers, nudging the bodies of Holford’s group and aiming the end of their guns down at their heads.

The pops that rang out were sent past your mind. The air outside washed over you, fresh almost jarring. Under the occasional shots fired in the building, you could pick up the hum of insects and birds. 

Your eyes fluttered under the tepid sunlight, and instead, you occupied yourself with the feeling of that. Just for those short seconds, you were under those rays.

Will was hot on your heels with a vigilant hand on your lower back, his other arm providing support for your shaky footfall. He was still running on hot, that look in his eye reflecting off far away from here.

He directed you toward a black truck and carefully helped you slip into the back passenger seat. After clicking the seatbelt over your lap, he dragged his eyes over you one last time, persisting on your wounds. He drummed his fingers on the palm of your hand and parted from you a promise, 

‘It will be a little while, but I will be back. Sy will be taking us back to the house...we're gonna get you cleaned up.’

Through your lids and out the window of the vehicle, you observed the men’s work. Their actions were swift and it was clear to see that disposal of certain events was in their expertise.  

A few of the guards were gathering red gallons of gasoline, entering the building, and dousing every surface on the interior. Others were negotiating with Syverson and Will, the latter man speaking with venom falling from his mouth. The last worker exited the archway and tossed the red bin in behind him.

Your legs ached. Minutes trickled by, and at first, you withheld moving. But it was as if each laceration was prying open. You took your eyes from the scene outside the truck and grit your teeth to readjust your body. 

The window bore the weight of your head.

Will took a prolonged look at the decrepit building, his arms crossed and locked over his chest. The tendons in his jaw were spasming like a coiled knot and his mouth set at a firm line.

Whatever thoughts broke down in his mind, they were intensively racing and reflecting the failure of today. He sent a final nod to Sy before turning and making his way to the vehicle you were residing in.

Another man fished a lighter and cigarette out of his pocket, adjusting the strap of the rifle on his shoulder. He then flicked open the metal casting, lighting the end of the stick. Without closing the lid, he threw the lighter into the broken window of the building.

 .

 .

 .

That drive was long. Despite the many twisting roads and turns, you noticed the flames shredding their way through the sky several miles away.

There behind you, Will's lips pressed to the crown of your head, with your body tucked into his chest. In your lap, you watched his torn knuckles flex. He formed a fist and would do so every couple of seconds, tremoring and taut. Eventually, he would ease up and relax those fingers, still shaking, but it would return. 

Repeatedly, open and close...

 open and close,

 open and close.

➽─────────────❥

You flinched as Syverson carefully picked the glass out of your legs. You were sat on the granite countertop, bruised knees hooking over the edge and your foot resting in his camo-clad lap. 

He was in a chair located directly in front of you, with his cap sitting on the counter and an assortment of tools surrounding it 

Your wrist was the first that was looked at. It was throbbing, hardly able to be moved but the bleeding clogged. He cleaned it as much as he could and set it into a makeshift splint. Syverson then notified you that you most likely suffered fractures.

He would have a friend come tomorrow to properly take care of it. 

The tweezers were skinny and almost disappeared under his thick fingers. He had his palm wrapped around your calf, and with an attentive eye, he leaned closer to dislodge more shards from your skin. 

You wince as a jagged edge is plucked from your calf.

"Stop squirmin' little lady."

You tilt your head to the side and cradle your injured wrist in your lap. Your braids tangled and fell just over your shoulder. In a corner of your mind, you thought about a hot shower, scrubbing your skin, and taking the damn things down. To wash everything away. 

It was absolutely anticipated.

Sy resumed his work, wetting his lips and holding back that vexatious grin.

The only sound resonating throughout the kitchen was the clink of the splinters hitting the plastic bowl, and the music of a film playing on T.V. Here and there you could make out Will's voice in the other room, his timbre suppressing an unhinged man. 

How could he not? You knew how much today went south, it wasn't expected, but you didn't make an attempt to eavesdrop anymore.

Really, you didn't venture to do anything but sit and wait until the soldier at your feet was finished. 

Will had entered the house before you and with not another step further, he conveyed to his partner that same pithy look. The point of your shoulder was gently tapped and under his bushy beard, the southern man offered you an apologetic look.

Sy was nothing but meticulous. He had a way about his movements that indicated his substantial experience. While he was working, your eyes glanced over that brawny man, taking in the thick slabs of muscle on his shoulders. You had to figure he possessed more scars than five men combined. 

He had the look of a man who had seen a lot in his life and could destroy everything in his path, but to you, he was the sweetest he can be.

You withheld a moment longer, additional pieces of shrapnel were dug and removed from your limbs. He pulled back and sat down those tweezers, promptly moving his fingers to wrap around a cheap bottle of alcohol.

He doused a fresh white cloth with the clear drink and patted each of your opened wounds.

"Mwell...You're lucky you don't need any stitches, sweetheart," he husked.

Your lip quirked at his tone. He peered up at you with a ghost of a sanguine reflection in his eye. Remarkably, he was always the one to find a smile out of you, always after those wearisome days. You decided to indulge the man, forcing a curl to your lips. You then turned away and watched the images flash over the television screen. 

His fingers lingered on a bigger cut on the top of your knee, clearing his throat. The muscles of your thigh tensed, like acid on flesh. Your nails clutched the surface of the granite and scratched shallowly. 

Sy's thumb rubbed at the outside of your leg in return, applying a little more pressure to the wound before ultimately removing his fingers.

Your attention drifted away from the screen, you knit your brows down at your legs. You were sure that you would adorn some scars from today, the unfortunate memory coming in at each glance to your body. 

The bottle of alcohol was placed between Syverson's legs, tucked close to his groin. You clocked your eye from his face back to the container. He was occupied wrapping bandages over your wounds, soon finishing off the last one before catching your look. 

He took his hands from your legs, and palmed the neck of the bottle, unscrewing the cap. He tipped his bushy jaw back and poured the biting liquid down. Sy offered the drink to you with a crinkle of his nose. It was unspoken, but you chewed on your lip.

"Do we have anything else?"

➽─────────────❥

The bubbling of the ocean, that sparkling shore, and the break in the clouds, all of it was transfixing. You wanted to see the moonlight, to breathe the fresh air, and genuinely feel that you were alive. 

So you slipped into something willowy. You couldn't pinpoint where it came from exactly. The tag was black and stitched gold in a foreign language, far too small to discern without a magnifier. From a closer look at the skew of the words, you could guess it came from somewhere in southern Europe. 

The fabric was silk, completely pearly white with a sheer design layering over your chest. It was revealing, rightfully so though it was currently the dead of summer.

Moreover, it worked well to not agitate your wounds. 

You passed by the living room where Sy had his feet kicked up on the coffee table, fingers rubbing at the bridge of his nose. The man was slumped as far as he could on that couch, all grime, perspiration, and fatigue.

You made sure to not close the glass-sliding door all the way.

Behind the sepia-colored bottle, you scanned about your surroundings. The palm trees strewn about the property swayed lazily in the wind, welcoming, disclosing to you: It's alright, you can relax now.

There was a blur of grey standing against the greenery, men in slacks with glimmering metal-encased by their arms. Those silent watchdogs weren't new to you, their presence would vanish from your mind from time to time. And even more so, the image of them called: It's alright, everything is okay now. 

Except it wasn't, it wouldn't be for as long as you would remember today, but ever since arriving at this location you had been trying to convince yourself otherwise. Best practice was to acknowledge, right? You wouldn't pretend that today never happened, that you didn't come a hair's breadth away from perishing.

Being wasted away far before you should.

It's not hard to think about. This lifestyle, the outlook, and the expiration date of it all. You've known about it ever since you were a teenage girl. 

The missing people that would show up in undisclosed locations, how strict your mother was with making friends, the luxury items in your home, and all of the days your father would be away, it didn't make sense until much later.

Securing all of your family's secrets followed quickly with your adulthood.

You think back to before everything split apart before you broke away. And now you stand outside of a clandestine house in God-knows-what country, you reflect.

It was never meant to last forever.

These nights you thought about many faces, strangers to the person you are now but people that blotched their fingerprints in your brain. Your mother comes around, stops during those times when you grow the most imaginative. 

She would adorn a knowing look on her face but waited until you asked her for advice. 

If you could just talk to her now. She'd probably kiss her teeth, cross her arms, and her heart breaking the longer she watched you. The dismay gone—no, she'd never forget what you did to the family, how you could give away your father like that with no further thought.

You hope that she would find it in her to understand, that she would look into you and see why you did everything. 

If you opened your eyes and saw her standing before you in the sand, you'd take her hands in yours and ask her—just how to navigate. How do you go day by day and still feel alive?

For the first time in your life, you had no clue what she would reply with.

You were close to lifting your foot off the stone porch and making your way through the sand until the slide of the patio door reached your ears. 

He sauntered out wielding a cup of amber, hair damp and pushed back from his forehead, his clothes changed to something fresh, new. He had just as much gauze wound around his body as you did, but he walked as comfortably as any man. 

Will was born for this life. 

He sat down by the outdoor dining table, placing his glass down and stretching his legs wide and relaxed in the chair. His fingers slid down the length of his shorts, stopping at his knees and staying there. 

You wrapped the gown around your body and brushed away the bumps rising on your skin.

There was a gale that blew through whenever he was near, more submerging than the humid air around you. Something close to those storms that frightened you as a child, the imminence and the pause between claps of thunder.

Yet, every time that they came, you ever ran away to hide. 

Will's brows creased, and he removed his attention from the undisturbed tide straight to you. His right hand moved back on his leg and pat the top of his thigh,

"Come here."

You were slow with approaching him. The bottle in your hands was replaced with his shoulders, the container clinking dismissively close by his drink. Will's arms opened up the moment you stepped between his thighs. His head tilted back, peering up at you. He wound his fingers behind your thighs and settled you astride his lap.

The way that you drew into him, there wasn't much helping it. 

You could feel him on your neck, your cheeks and your lashes, Will's breaths, and his utmost tutelage. Maybe this was your favorite. From your position, you could look down at him just right, draw the light in his covert eyes. 

You were able to capture all of the lines on his face, the shade of his skin, and those dots that appeared after being out in the sun. You could study this man, searching for whatever you wanted. Each and every time you tried discovering something new.

With all of the secrets he locked away from you, there were about a dozen escaping every other day. Tales whispered amongst the other members and strangers, lingering eyes on Will's back whenever he walked by. He carried himself as if he was grasping at direction, but it was well known how untamed he used to be.

No, he was still a wild animal in his soul, you knew that part about him wouldn't ever change. You bet if you took his hand in yours there would still be dried-up blood stuck under his nails. You knew this but here you are, towering over him and you still can't quite read the shadows in his eyes.

These times? Unfortunately, they were few and far between. 

Right now, he held onto you like you wouldn’t be slipping away anytime soon.

“Y/n.”

Will was mindful of your wounds, fingertips gliding over the sides of your legs and taking a cautious hold of your bound wrist. The bruising feeling shot through the crushed bones. Will gingerly placed his lips along the top of your thumb and followed the bandage wraps down your wrist. 

"How're you feeling?"

He didn't blink, and for an important reason, you wouldn't look away from him. He wanted from you, your reply, whether or not it was one-hundred percent.

"I'm okay."

Your coils moved with your head, a chary nod. You knew that you shouldn't think too deeply about that question. You were patched up, scrubbed clean from all of the stains today, his skin was there and warm under your hand. 

So you scooted closer to Will, brushing your chest against his, and laced your fingers around the back of his neck. 

He focused on your natural hair, how the tresses flowed down your back and framed your face. You made good on your promise to yourself on cutting the old-style away. There wasn't anything quite like that feeling, that weight falling away and nothing but an utterly new look.

You turned your eyes toward the horizon, catching the distant twinkling of fishing ships and airplanes. The red and white were faint, and sometimes those lights blended in with the stars. But never had they been any closer than several dozen miles. 

On the shell of your ear and down your jaw, Will's facial hair started stroking and prodding.

"Doll…"

Your lips pulled tight. You carded your nails through his damp ringlets and twirled a few strands around, fidgeting. 

"Don't you go soft on me."

His fingertips sunk lightly into the flesh of your lower back and bottom. You heard him sniff quietly. For a second there, you thought he was going to apologize to you. Though, Will's thumb hooked under your jaw, caressing with a tender stroke before leading you to him. 

And he kissed you, real slow.

More than he ever had with you. Will was always messy—greedy, a palm on the nape of your neck and draining the oxygen from your lungs. 

He kissed you as if you were about to fall into pieces. You pulled away from him after a long while, still dazed. It was before you could slide off that white gown and unlace the waistband of his shorts. All in front of those men in the shade. It wouldn't be the first time, nor the last.

He was reluctant, his palms residual on your body, but you slotted your fingers through his and detached them from your hips. 

Will carried somewhat of a smile slanting his face. In the low light, you can catch a glimpse of it, how his cut lip stretched. You braced your hand midway on his chest and lifted yourself up from him. You then palmed the wine in one hand, tossing a look from over your shoulder before setting on your way. 

He didn't get up or try to chase after you, but the movement behind his eyes did. 

You went on to do what you originally wished to, feeling the salt and the sand. You had been neglected of this for forever it seemed, months, years maybe. Just like through the window of the bedroom there was still a spell of sorts being cast on the beach, you weren't going to fight it.

All the way to the mouth of the shore you went, taking in sips of wine and filling your vision with the stars. 

Never did he take his eyes from you.

"How's she holding up?"

Sy stood about two feet away with a towel draped around his shoulders and his back leaning against the patio door. Will turned his head to glance at the soldier, before returning to you.

"She's... she'll be alright."

Will sat up in his chair, sweeping his eyes through the backyard once again. 

"We lost five guys today, three including the guys from the inner circle, two others were regulars...Still have over  27K to retrieve," Sy reflected. 

He set his elbow on the armrest, rubbing his fingers over the stubble on his face and surrounding his lips.

"It's a shame what happened to that kid. I'll take care of his grandparents...send them a severance."

Christ, he was actually feeling a bit of guilt, more so with how the kid went out. But, he knew what this job was. He was told about the repressions and what was expected.

Daniel was a few months shy of his next birthday if Will had that right. And, now he wouldn't even be able to have an opened casket for his funeral. Not that this mattered in the end, though.

He wouldn’t have a casket at all.

"...They've fucking lost it if they think this is all forgotten."

Syverson nodded his head, already preparing his mind for any possible retaliation. No doubt much of the next few days will be filled with planning, making calls, and ordering more supplies. Maybe a few all-nighters just to get the deal straight, spending money just to make triple the return. He thinks that he might phone up Walker, the caliber of this situation had blown up in that man's range anyway.

"You have guys surrounding the perimeter?"

"Don't you go sweet on me, Will," Sy laughed. Of course, there were men around the perimeter. Not one spot was left open.

Will wrapped his fingers around the glass and took a small sip of the drink. His jaw twitched once again at that phrase, it just about mirrored yours, "I'm not." 

There was a brief silence between the men, Will wasn't looking at Sy but both of them had somewhat of the same thought winding through their worn-out minds. The soldier followed his partner's eyes, down the shore and to where those tan grains disappeared in the water.

"Then why are you sitting outside, watching her like a hawk?"

Will did not say anything in return. His tongue prodded again at the cut on his lower lip. He slowly lifted his glass and knocked back the rest of the liquor in his cup. The water and the trees moved in the wind and the sound filled their ears. Those low clouds were picked up by the gust and eventually revealed the moon. 

That cool blue light spilled down and radiated off your bronze skin. It was like you glowed, drawing Will's unreadable gaze. 

You were pushing your feet toward the ocean, just barely letting the water touch. Your fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle, not moving the container but, letting your nails pick at the ridges in the glass. Will stared at how your head tilted to the side, and your lashes closing, taking in the breeze blowing through you.

There he was dwelling, fingertips tapping on his knee and another bracing on his face, ruminating through those long corridors in his mind. As he watched you he couldn't help but think in the past, back when he first laid eyes on you and took in that fear entangled in your soul.

He thinks back to your inconceivable proposition, you were on your knees for him, begging for a chance to show him what you got. You were dead serious in the end and you slid to him that folded up paper with the keys to the universe.

He shook his head and scratched at his hair, Will's brain repeated those words that your father said to him. Through grit teeth, spitting, and bloodshot orbs, his voice echoed that foreboding line up to Will.

‘Listen, son, you fall asleep at night with the visions of the world twirling in your palms. You are hungry for it and you run rampant with the darkness that resides in every man. You don’t lock yourself back and you will stumble. The time will come where your dominion crumbles and knocks the crown off of your head. And when you wake, a phantom won’t take you, but you will be rasping for it when you watch everything you breathe for get torn to shreds.’

➽─────────────❥

Taglist: @feralrunaway @inlovewithhisblueeyes @emyearns @mansaaay @cavillryarchive​ @thetaoofzoe​

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#henry cavill x reader #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fanfic #Will Shaw #henry cavill x black!reader #black reader #woc reader #will shaw x reader #will shaw imagine #henry cavill x you #will shaw x you #henry cavill x black reader #the cold light of day

[thebookreader12345]

On the Loose - Chapter Three

Chapter One     Chapter Two   Chapter Four   Chapter Five

The coffee in my system helped me wake up a bit, but I was still pretty tired considering that I had been shaken awake at around 5:00 in the morning. I yawned and rubbed my eyes again as Jay pulled up to our newest scene. I stepped out of the truck and glanced around to see police vehicles everywhere, along with a few crime scene investigators waiting for us to view the scene so that they could gather all of the evidence. The bright blue and red flashing lights of the police cars clashed with the light color of the barely morning sky, giving the street an almost unsettling look.

“Uh, hey. Detectives Halstead and L/N. Is Sergeant Voight here yet?” Jay asked the nearest officer, who nodded and pointed to the direction of the house we had appeared in front of. Jay thanked him quickly and started off towards the front door with me following behind him. It didn’t take us long to find the body because as soon as we stepped inside, we were met with a blood trail leading to the bedroom. And when we entered said room, I was greeted by a crime scene that looked very similar to the others. Except this time, something was different. There wasn’t a letter for me in sight, and instead, on the foot of the bed, right below the victim’s body, was a huge book. A photo album.

“Anybody open it yet?” I question. My voice caused Voight, Hailey and Adam, those in the room from the team, to look up at the sound of my voice.

“It’s addressed to you,” Adam responded. “Forensics dusted for prints and found nothing, so it’s safe for you to touch.”

“I’d rather not touch it, but I don’t want to offend the killer,” I counter and take a huge step over the puddle of blood in front of me. It hadn’t had time to dry yet, which meant this kill was fresh. Recent. Perhaps very recent. “Well, lets see what my admirer has to give to me today.” I reached forward and slipped my fingers under the front cover of the album, flipping it to the side to reveal the first page. The first page’s pictures were all of our first victim. One showed our victim bound and gagged, but still conscious on the warehouse floor. And the second showed her dead with dozens of stab wounds on her body. The second half of the page was of our second victim, the one found in her house, which was also where we found our first note. Again, the first picture was of our victim alive, this time unconscious. The second, the dead body. I then flipped the page and came to our third victim’s photos taken when she was alive, and when she was dead. On the other half of the second page was a letter.

“Terra Bretton was my first victim. I remember the first time I saw her. She looked so much like you, Y/N, that I was transported back to the time when you destroyed my life. Everything was taken away from me just like that. When I saw Terra that day, I got angry, so when she was closing up her bakery, and no one was around, I kidnapped her and then I took her to an abandoned warehouse on the other side of town. That’s where I killed her, stabbing her so many times to rid my body of the hatred it held for you. Killing made me feel better, and so, when I saw my second victim, Addison Reed, I knew I had to do it again. She was a lot feistier than Terra, and when I broke into her house, she fought back. I didn’t want to kill her while she was unconscious because I wanted to see her squirm, but she wouldn’t stop talking, so I chloroformed her. A few minutes after the chemicals had set in, I struck. Again, I used my method of choice; stabbing. My third victim, the one lying dead in front of you, is Luci Denton. I saw her around a lot, and every time I caught a glimpse of her, I was reminded of you. I followed her home one night, and when she got out of her car, I was ready for her. I placed my knife against her throat and led her inside of her house where my attack began. I stabbed her once in the stomach, breaking the skin easily. As she bled, I dragged her body into the living room where I stabbed her a few more times, and finally, to the bedroom, where I ended her life with a knife to the heart, the blow that killed her. You may think that because you’ve got a whole team of police officers to back you up during the day and a detective for a boyfriend sleeping with you at nights that I won’t dare to come for you. But I will. I won’t stop until I kill you, and be warned, you’re next.”

“Well, that was comforting,” I murmur and close the album.

“Sarge, I think this is getting too far. Y/N’s life is in danger. We need to catch this bastard,” Jay exclaimed.

“And I understand that, but we’ve got nothing. There hasn’t been any forensic evidence at any of the scenes, and we’ve got almost no leads. The best we can do is continue combing through all of the cases Y/N has worked on and hope we find our guy,” Voight spoke.

“Um, hey. Do you mind if I keep this?” I ask the nearest CSI. She shook her head, and I thanked her before grabbing the photo album, holding it against my side.

“What do you plan to do with that?” Hailey questioned.

I shrugged. “Maybe something will jump out at me.” We left the crime scene quickly and headed back to the district to start working. Kevin and Kim were already in the bullpen going through files when we arrived. I slid into my desk chair and got straight to work. The first thing I did was re-read the note that came along with the photo album, and something jumped out at me. Our killer had said that he saw Luci around a lot. That could either mean he was always near where she worked or her house. That’s when I got an idea. I dug deeper into Luci and discovered where she worked, a book store out in Humboldt Park. Then, I started searching for PODs that might have a view of that building. After searching for a bit, I finally found a camera that was on the same street as Luci’s workplace, but the problem was, its view didn’t quite reach where Luci worked. I could see part of the store, but not the entrance. I guess that would have to do. I started scanning the footage, trying to remember as many faces as I could, but it didn’t do me much good because there were so many people passing by, and many of them could have fit the description of our killer. By now, it was 8:00 in the morning, and the bookstore’s website said that they were open, so I figured I’d head down there to see if there were any cameras that actually had a view of the bookstore’s entrance, and maybe see if anyone who worked there could ID our killer. “I’ll be right back,” I tell the team and stand up, grabbing my coat as I did.

“Where are you going?” Kim asked me.

“I just need some fresh air,” I lie. “I’ll be back shortly.”

“Y/N,” Jay started.

“I said I need some air,” I repeat. “So just give me a few minutes, okay?” And with that, I pulled on my coat and exited the bullpen. It was about a fifteen minute drive to the bookstore, and when I climbed out of my car, I spotted someone sitting at the front desk inside. I pushed the door open gently, and a bell jingled above me, signaling that I had entered the store. The woman at the desk looked up and gave me a small smile, which I returned, and set down the book she was reading.

“Can I help you?” the woman, whose name tag read Lila, asked.

“Yeah,” I reply and show her my badge. “I was wondering if you could answer a few questions for me.”

“This is about Luci, right? I saw it on the news this morning,” Lila confessed.

“Were you guys close?” I question.

Lila shook her head. “We never spoke outside of work. As soon as we both left after closing, we went our separate ways. She texted me a few times, but they were all work related texts. Things like she’d be late for work or couldn’t come in because she was sick or something.”

“Okay. Uh, this past week, have you seen any guys around here: blonde, green eyes, thirtyish, on the taller side?” I ask. Lila hesitated, meaning she probably knew what I was talking about, but she didn’t answer my question and looked out the front window. “Lila? Have you seen the man I described?”

“I don’t believe I have,” Lila responded. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.”

“Lila, you’re impeding a murder investigation, and by lying, you’re committing obstruction, which means you’ll get up to three years in prison along with a pretty expensive fine. And I know for a fact that you won’t be able to pay it off with the salary you get from working at a bookstore. So tell me what you know,” I demand.

“H-he said he’d kill me,” Lila stammered out, tears brimming the corners of her eyes. “He said that if I talked to the police, he’d find me and kill me.”

“When was this?” I question. Lila didn’t answer the question and looked down at her hands. “Lila, I promise that you’ll be kept safe, okay? I just need you to tell me what happened.”

Lila sniffled and wiped at her eyes. “A man came in this morning right as we opened that fit your description. I had seen him around a lot. He came in a few times asking to speak to Luci, but she told me that someone who looked like him and been following her the past few days, so I always told him no. When he came in this morning, I somehow knew he had killed her. I just knew. He threatened me, said he’d kill me and anyone I loved if I told the cops that he’d been stalking her.”

“Okay. Did you happen to catch his name?” I ask.

Lila nodded. “He said his name was Jeffery something.” That’s when something hit me. Or should I say, someone. 

“Was it perhaps Jeffery Smaldor?” I question.

“Yeah. That’s it,” Lila responded.

“Okay. Um, I think it’s best you take the day off. Head down to the 21st district and say Detective L/N wants you in witness protection. Thank you for the help,” I tell her before leaving the store. As I got back to my car, I had the feeling that someone was following me, but when I turned around, no one was there. The whole street was empty. I pulled out my keys to unlock my car, and that’s when I felt a pinch in my neck. I reached up, my hands brushing against a needle, and suddenly, my whole body went limp. I then collapsed against my car, my keys falling to the ground. Hands grasped at my waist and turned my body around, and that’s when I saw him. Jeffery Smaldor. The man I was after.

“Hey, Y/N. I heard you were looking for me. Looks like I found you first,” Jeffery spoke and smirked. And with that, my eyes began drifting close, and after a few seconds, I fell unconscious into Jeffery’s arms.

_______________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13 @dreamingmanip @campingmonkey @winterberryfox @nevertoofarfromivar @anotherfan07 @giagma @mrspeacem1nusone @i-like-sparkly-things

#one chicago #chicago pd #chicago pd x reader #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd imagines #jay halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead imagines #jay halstead x reader #intelligence unit #district 21 #multi chapter #murder mystery #mystery #x reader #imagines #imagine

[flyboytracy]

Okay but what if Scott rly was Alan’s dad?

I was gonna post this for Earth & Sky week if I managed to complete it but it’s smol Tracy’s birthday and it’ll probably never see the light of day otherwise so why not :D

I’m always a ho for an AU so here’s one I started over lockdown called ‘Okay but what if Scott really was Alan’s dad’

☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆

Long before International Rescue was a thing, the Tracy boys had lived on a farm in Kansas. It’d belonged to their late mother, God bless her soul, and these days it only grew crop for an environmentally friendly fuel because Tracy money came from technology instead of the earth.

The boys’ famous army father was gone for days at a time and there was plenty of rumours why that was. Mrs Wyatt who lived down the lane from the Tracys said she’d heard the man was alcoholic and probably had been for a long time because his teenaged son had been looking after the rest of them since his poor momma died. She saw them troop past her gate every day on their way to school and back, and then to the park on the weekends when their pa’s jet wasn’t on the drive.

Mr Colton, who lived at number fifty-four said he’d taken his son to the pool at the same time that the Tracy boys had been there without their father as usual. He told Vera that he’d overheard the youngest chattering away to the red-headed one about a rocket he’d called the TV21 until the eldest had overheard and shushed them. According to Mrs Johnson who was friends with Ms Hernandez at the school, Col. Tracy had budding engineers, astronauts and a future Olympic swimmer at the home he never seemed to return to. Instead it was Scott and Virgil who took their brothers to swim meets and galas and even to the Cosmosphere. Ms Hernandez could find nothing to complain about because all four of the Tracy boys grades were above average and threw off the teachers’ bell curves when it came to subjects like science and math.

That Scott boy sure had his hands full with three brothers, his own future and a possibly alcoholic father to look after, so the whole town was surprised when he went and knocked up the Austin girl after being crowned king and queen of their grad ball. Not much ever happened in the backwater towns of the sunflower state so everybody knew about it the morning after the night Pa Austin went round the Tracy’s farmhouse to have it out with the Colonel.

The rumour mill had been on fire for months after that because Mrs Johnson had been having her usual perm when she’d heard Ma Austin tell Shirley all about how her daughter’s boyfriend had been going to leave their small town after graduation. She’d seen the way the Tracy boy cared for his brothers and had expected he’d give up his plans to join the military if he had a kid of his own at home with her.

To the town’s surprise, it turned out that the Colonel was actually a long distance father and not an entirely absent one. Pa Austin had stormed to the farmhouse that night with his shotgun in hand, only to be greeted by a hologram of the great Colonel himself, sat eating dinner on a beach somewhere as his boys ate dinner round a table in Kansas. Austin had gone round with the aim of threatening at least one Tracy with his shotgun but hadn’t got that far because Colonel Jefferson Tracy could still dominate a room from over a thousand miles away.

According to Pa Austin, his fancy hologram was just as tall as the real thing and pretty sober which put paid to Mrs Wyatt’s theory that he was an alcoholic. In fact he was a Big Apple businessman now, and a darn good one at that because by the end of the evening it had been decided that his eldest son would join the GDF as planned and the child would remain with its mother but want for nothing. Tracys took care of their own and Pa Austin said he’d realised that when the colonel’s youngest boy had kept interrupting their conversation to show him trash he’d found in the pond at the park and Tracy hadn’t brushed the youngster off at all.

The big holographic man had promised they’d feed the ducks at the weekend, which meant half the town was hanging around the park come Saturday morning.

The youngest had appeared first, full of joy and enthusiasm that his older brother didn’t share as the red-head was dragged across the grass to the pond. The second eldest was close behind them and had a couple of toy boats in his arms which left the eldest Tracy boy and his father to bring up the rear.

They were deep in conversation when they appeared, the Colonel strolling along easily with his hands behind his back like an old fashioned gentleman. Scott was by his side and gone was the little boy always running to catch up. In his place strode a man and it was rather disappointing really.

The Tracys moved away shortly afterwards. Stan the mailman said he’d seen fancy suits taking pictures of the farmhouse and the Tracys had paid for their mail to be redirected but he couldn’t seem to find an address. The Austins had an address for the Tracys, but they also had a pretty hefty NDA in exchange for a very comfortable lifestyle and weren’t much inclined to break it just to satisfy everyone else’s curiosity.

It all died down after a while and people got bored of watching Sophia get bigger. Her old flame might’ve flown out of the picture but his presence sure was felt around town when Sophia got her own car and fancy place on the Tracy’s dime.  Ms Hernandez said the colonel had insisted Ms Sophia continue her education alongside being a momma to his first grandchild and Shirley heard there was a job at the Tracy’s family business when she wanted to get out of Kansas.

Nothing exciting happened in their little backwater until the day a private jet landed on the main street and Sophia was whisked off to give birth at a very fancy hospital. According to Ma Austin, she had a private room and the colonel had parked his jet on the roof since his son wouldn’t make it back in time for the birth.

They did seem to be a good family, the Tracys, even if they’d disappeared off the face of the earth in the past eight months or so. The only trace anybody could seem to find of them was on the Tracy Industries website where each son had a mention in the CEO’s bio but real information was scarce. They disappeared off Ms Hernandez’s records and there was nothing about them on any government website. Nobody was truly surprised that the Colonel had chosen to disappear because they’d come to realise a few things after reading his bio. For one, the fella was a billionaire several times over and two, he adored those four boys of his more than anything because his words about his achievements had been clinical but the paragraph about each of his sons’ achievements had made old Mrs Johnson cry.

Of course everybody wanted to know what happened but the Austins didn’t have a lot to say. The Colonel was a very nice man who didn’t seem to have taken offence to Ms Austin’s actions. He’d offered her further education and employment instead of the lawsuit most men in his position would’ve filed. There were rumours the fella was working on a top secret project that’d change the world, but in their little backwater there were rumours about everything.

Alan Tracy didn’t pay attention to any of those rumours as he grew up with his momma in a sleepy little town in Kansas. The little boy loved many things including his momma and their house that had a big garden with a tire swing and a sandpit he used to re-enact grandpa landing on Mars. He loved ice cream and going to the park and he even liked Kindergarten ‘cause he got to draw pictures of his family and space.

But what Alan Tracy loved most of all was his daddy. He didn’t get to see him a lot ‘cause he was learning to be a pilot like grandpa, but every Friday evening a fancy car arrived to take him a little way out of town where grandpa’s jet would be waiting to take him to the island for the whole weekend.

Sometimes grandpa flew it but he had lots of meetings around the world so other times he’d see Uncle Virgil through the window and squeal with excitement ‘cause his biggest uncle had the best toys. He was gonna be an engineer and could fix any of Alan’s toys, even the one that failed a moon launch. He had Alan’s undying love ‘cause the little boy could hang from his arm like a monkey and  he had lots of fun stories about his daddy. They were best, best friends and Alan liked to crawl into that big plaid shirt and bug him ‘til Uncle Virg showed him pictures of when daddy was little.

Uncle Virg wasn’t always around though ‘cause he was studying in Denver but that was okay ‘cause Alan had two more uncles to play with. Johnny didn’t really like to play but when he was home he let Alan play with his telescopes and taught him all about space.

Alan loved his daddy but he thought he might love space even more. He loved it when Johnny took him up to the peak of the island in the dark and they sat for an hour to watch for shooting stars. Alan had fallen asleep once on the big fluffy blanket and the best thing of all was when he woke to find daddy had an arm around Johnny’s shoulders and Alan had been drooling on his shirt.

“Hey, sprout.” Daddy had smooched his forehead when he’d noticed bright blue eyes staring up at him with joy, “I love you. John says you’ve been learning about the stars some more.”

“There’s Ursa Major!” Alan had stood up to be able to point out the little pinpricks of light that made up the Ursa Major Constellation and he still hadn’t been taller than his daddy, “Johnny says Ursa’s a big bear like Uncle Virg.”

“Johnny told you that, did he?” his daddy’s laugh had made Alan feel warm right down to his bones and he’d dived for a hug. Impossibly long arms had folded around him and Johnny, drawing them both into the safest place in the universe for so long they missed most of the shooting stars and Johnny made them go away so he could see the rest. Alan didn’t mind ‘cause dad swung him up onto his shoulders and let him get wet on the rocky beach by the villa since it was bath time anyway.

Alan loved Sunday mornings on the island when daddy was home. Alan liked to wake him up by bouncing on the bed ‘cause the sky was awake so they should be too. And then they’d get dressed in matching blue swim shorts and go for a run around the island and if he ran faster than daddy on the home stretch he was allowed to jump into the pool like Superman. Gordon was usually in there by then and kept an eye on Allie doing the doggy paddle in the shallow end whilst daddy went to get breakfast out the fridge. There was something cool that beeped super loud that time he tried to moonwalk on the bottom of the pool like an astronaut and Uncle Virg had dived in like a bowling ball to fish him out. Gordon had laughed a lot but Uncle Virg hadn’t even smiled ‘til daddy gave him one of those hugs that made booboos stop hurting.

Alan really loved his uncles but he loved his daddy most and it was hard to stand on the runway with Uncle Virg to wave goodbye. Uncle Virg didn’t seem to like waving goodbye either so Alan always held his hand to make him feel better and did his best to be like daddy so Uncle Virg wouldn’t miss him too much.

He seemed to end up being more like John as a couple of years passed and everything in his life changed. Grandpa took him to London to get measured for a suit for daddy’s graduation and he didn’t understand why Uncle Virg kept frowning at Gordon for laughing about daddy’s graduation from big school. He asked Uncle Virg what was so funny, and then Grandpa and Grandpa’s weird professor friend who used big words Alan didn’t know yet, but none of them seemed to know and even daddy missed a step when Alan asked him on their way to the fancy dinner Grandpa was hosting at his penthouse in New York for his newly graduated son. Daddy never ever missed anything which was annoying when Alan was trying to get hold of Gordon’s cookies but he’d breathed air the wrong way and Uncle Virg had to thump his back a few times.

Daddy had talked about how cool Alan looked in his little gray suit and Alan had been so happy he’d forgotten about his question ‘til after dinner when they were still at the table and he’d pulled himself onto Grandpa’s knee ‘cause Uncle Virg and Gordon were being loud and he’d been a tired little boy by then. He’d tried one last time to find out what was so funny about daddy’s last graduation and Grandpa had rested his chin atop Allie’s head.

“Your momma and daddy had you after his last graduation.” Grandpa rumbled, “You were quite an unexpected surprise for your daddy, but a welcome one. Gordon likes to remind your daddy about what a big surprise you were.”

“Your daddy was a surprise too, as I recall.” Grandma Tracy was sat with Grandpa and Alan loved visiting her but sometimes she made him cookies and he didn’t love those.

“I love daddy, not cookies.” he mumbled tiredly and fell asleep right there at the table.

That meant he missed the way his Grandpa coughed to quieten his four boys because he had something real important to discuss with them. Scott knew what it was, and Virg had an inkling because it was difficult to disguise underground excavations from a highly skilled engineer. They were sat together with Virgil’s elbow resting on the back of Scott’s chair and blue eyes softened when he realised where Alan had got to.

Alan had managed to sleep through the inaugural meeting of International Rescue and life was never the same again after he woke up.

#idek #AU warning #dad!scott #i'm just such a ho for dad!scott #this is what happens when I watch things like Bridgerton

[seokmingiggles]

rainbow.

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x female reader

Genre: angst, some scattered fluff, established relationship, soulmate!au (where you can see colour from the moment you meet your soulmate).

5.96k words

Warnings: brief mention of alcohol consumption, [spoilers: unmentioned illness (however, I allude to Lymphoma [a type of cancer] that has spread to other areas), major character death.]

There are countless tales of the lengths people go to when finding their soulmate, yet significantly fewer of the aftermath. You thought your life began when fate led you to your soulmate, but why does it feel like it’s ending all of a sudden?

Alternatively, not all wishes come true. Even when Jungkook tries to convince you otherwise.

A/N: This piece is likely going to be my last longer one for a while as I’m returning back to school for my winter semester. Expect my updates to be significantly more sparse than they have been for the past few weeks. Other than that, I’m so glad I began to post my writings online. It’s still bizarre to me that actual people are reading them?? If you enjoy (or have constructive criticism for) any of my pieces, please, never be shy to let me know!! I absolutely adore hearing your opinion on what I’ve created. With that said, gosh, I cried while doing my research to write this one.

If you are looking for a cute, fluffy soulmate!au, this may not be a suitable fic for you. Yes, there are some fluffy moments, but it overall contains heavy themes that may be triggering to some. If you’re looking for a fluffy soulmate!Jungkook drabble, the first portion of 1k words contains no angst, along with the three italicized sections.

•• Your soulmate. Soulmate. Even the word sounded magical; a mate bound to your soul.

Growing up, you were the cliché little girl who would endlessly dream about seeing colour for the first time at the instant your eyes locked with a certain someone across the room. Just imagining some above force drawing you to them sounded magical.

And, to a certain extent, it did happen that way when you met yours.

Not-exactly in the storybook-way you pictured, but you felt strangely drawn to a particular boy back in your second year of university. Your childhood friend, Chaeyoung, had convinced you to attend some end-of-semester party on campus. To be fair, that's where you met your other closest friend to this day.

The boy was sat on a couch, looking uninterested and unimpressed by the events happening around him. Chaeyoung, as much as you love her, had run off with another one of her classmates, leaving you floundering in the pool of sweaty bodies and loud music. So, you made your way to the sofa and sat next to the expressionless boy, who you came to know as Yeosang.

You didn't expect him to begin talking to you with the blank gaze he was displaying prior to you taking a seat, but you're happy it turned out that way. After that party, Yeosang joined your duo with Chaeyoung; the three of you would come to have plenty of fun together.

Though, it was at that same party where you also met Jungkook.

After chatting with Yeosang for who knows how long, your small bladder eventually needed relief from the few drinks you had. You excused yourself and wandered around the unfamiliar house in search of a bathroom. It was a large space with multiple floors, perhaps belonging to one of your campus fraternities, but you found yourself walking like you knew exactly where to go.

You ended up upstairs, where it was significantly more quiet than the bustling main floor. Only a few scattered couples kissing in the hallways or leading another to someone's bedroom crossed your path.

You managed to find a vacant washroom, much to your delight. But upon opening the bathroom door after you had finished, you were met with a handsome—albeit unfamiliar—face.

And also with a flood of colour for the first time in your life.

You and the stranger were both dumbfounded for a moment. It was only until he broke the silence and said, "Look, you don't know how happy I am to have found you, but I really, really, need to pee. So, if you don't mind–"

Those were the first words that Jungkook had spoken to you.

And in that instant, despite the slightly awkward, non-picture-perfect meeting, you were nothing less than smitten from that day forth.

Things between you and Jungkook went swimmingly after your first introductions. You two were soulmates; after all, it was only natural to get along. You had more in common with the boy than you would have guessed.

Your first couple of dates were much better than anything you had imagined them to be. Despite the cheesiness of a dinner and a movie for your first date or the loudness of your second arcade date, you were already looking forward to spending a future with Jungkook.

The first time he kissed you was like nothing else you've ever felt. Fireworks were an understatement. It was like all the stars in the universe had aligned perfectly, and all you could see were each and every constellation in Jungkook's eyes the moment he pulled away.

You were far beyond smitten at that point.

But what you didn't expect upon meeting Jungkook was how your vision would be impacted so greatly. Yes, you had heard about how wonderful a world of colour was, and yes, that was one of the things you had been looking forward to upon finding your soulmate; however, you could never have imagined just how vibrant the world really was.

You knew you were lucky to find your soulmate in your twenties. There were too many people who went countless years or even their whole lives without finding theirs, and you happened to meet yours only after a couple of decades into your life. It made you excited to spend the rest of your time by Jungkook's side. It would be a future where both of you would admire the process of the sky: shifting its palette in the evening to paint the clouds in an awe-inspiring gradient. Or seeing the luscious ruby-red strawberries adorning his favourite cake on each of his birthdays as the years passed together. Seeing the swirling brown of his irises, too, was one of your favourite sights after being able to see colour.

Your life became nothing short of a rainbow. Every day felt magical being with Jungkook; being with your soulmate.

Before you knew it, you celebrated your first year together. Then two. Then a few more until you both graduated from university. You eventually found a little apartment to call home at around the same time; it made sense to move in together. Previously, both of you had roommates during your schooling years. Although now, living together only seemed natural when you knew you'd eventually get married one day.

And living with Jungkook was nothing but natural.

Waking up next to your boyfriend was better than you could have imagined. Seeing his cute, groggy face puffy with sleep was the most endearing thing to you, and he thought the exact same way when he'd wake before you on the rare occasion.

It was like a little insight into how the rest of your life would be.

Your heart would uncontrollably flutter every time Jungkook would approach you from behind and gently wrap his arms around your torso as you worked at the stove. Or the way he'd sometimes comb your damp hair after a shower, making sure to pepper little kisses to your neck or cheek in the process. Your heart had never felt so full until Jungkook had unexpectedly made his way into your life.

And you're forever elated that he did.

•

"Which one do you think looks better on me?" Chaeyoung held up two shirts to her torso.

You examined both pieces and felt the fabric before saying, "I think I prefer the red one," referring to the shirt on the left.

You and your two best friends were spending a sunny day off just wandering around the streets downtown. It was your chance to explore the little cafes you would keep driving by or window-shopping at the cute boutiques you'd see. Chaeyoung had dragged you and Yeosang into one of the stores when a mannequin's outfit in the display case caught her eye.

"No, I think the blue one is nicer," Yeosang interjected as he pointed to the second option.

You hummed, reconsidering your answer, "Actually, yeah, you're right. I think you should get the blue one."

Chaeyoung inspected both tops once more, "Okay, blue it is."

The three of you walked to the cashier for the girl to make her purchase, leaving the store shortly after to continue on your way.

"You're both so lucky to have found your soulmates already," she beamed at the two of you as you passed by another shop.

"You'll find yours eventually, Chae," Yeosang added. "Seeing colour for the first time will blow your mind."

You only nodded in agreement and returned their smiles.

Your stomach had been feeling slightly off since this morning, but you ignored the feeling in pursuit of seeing your friends for the first time in a while. Yet now, the unsettling feeling seemed to be growing stronger.

"Hey, guys," you rubbed the back of your neck, "I'm not feeling too well all of a sudden. I think I might be coming down with something. I'm sorry to ditch you so early, but I should head home."

"Do you want a ride back?" Yeosang offered, being the only of the three of you to have a car.

"No, it's okay. The bus runs pretty frequently. I don't want to bother you."

You waved goodbye before either of them had a chance to protest and began walking to the nearest bus stop.

You weren't necessarily feeling sick; that was a lie. Or, rather, you suddenly felt like you had been struck by a tsunami. An overwhelming sensation of swirling nauseousness and anxiety began brewing beneath your skin. You clasped your hands together to prevent them from visibly shaking once you'd taken a seat on the bus.

You were uncertain of what was happening to you so suddenly.

However, you did know that that shirt looked awfully grey, not blue.

Now that you think of it, the sky above you appeared duller too.

•

"Hey, Guk, come look at this!"

Jungkook followed the sound of your voice and turned down the neighbouring aisle, only to see you holding up a folded square of checkered material.

"It's on clearance, too!" you said with excitement.

Your boyfriend stepped closer to you and took the blanket into his hands. "What is it?"

"What do you mean, 'What is it?' It's a picnic blanket, you goof," you took the square and flipped it over to see the image on the cardboard package of how it would look unfolded. "I've always thought the idea of those picnic dates is adorable. Cheesy, but adorable."

Jungkook admired your smile as you continued to read the supposed 'features' of the blanket.

"It's got a water-resistant bottom all while the top is a thick and soft flannel. It's also apparently easily foldable with a carrying strap." You continued to scan the list of details, "And look, it's machine washable! I think it's a good one." You turned your attention to the boy stood next to you, "What do you think?"

Jungkook wouldn't have been able to wipe the adoring smile off his face no matter how hard he tried.

"You're so cute," he mumbled and pulled you into a hug in the middle of the store.

"That's nice," your voice was muffled against Jungkook's chest, "but what do you think of the blanket?" You wiggled your arm free from his hold to display the picnic blanket once more, examining his face for his reaction.

Jungkook felt the fabric before saying, “It's soft. Yeah, I think it's a good one.”

“'It's soft,'” you repeated his statement. "That's all you have to say about it?"

"I can't say I'm a connoisseur of picnic blankets or anything, my love."

"Well, neither am I, but I'm sure I can think of more adjectives to describe it other than 'it's soft.'"

The boy encouraged you to come up with some.

"For starters, look how colourful it is! It's like a plaid rainbow in a fun little bundle."

Your words made Jungkook laugh, causing you to giggle too.

"Okay," you admitted, "maybe I'm no picnic blanket connoisseur either."

Jungkook admired your rosy cheeks from laughing. "Let's buy it," he said. "Going on picnics with you sounds like fun." He pulled you close once more, "Actually, anything as long as I'm with you sounds like fun."

“Does that mean you’ll sleepover tonight?”

The boy pretended like it was some philosophical question before breaking out into a smile, “Yeah, I’ll sleepover tonight.”

•

You did your best to keep that instance of a colourless sky and grey shirt to yourself for days. When Yeosang and Chaeyoung texted you later that day to check on you, you told them you felt better after having a nap.

And it was true, but not the full truth.

You blamed what you saw on a lack of sleep. It was just your tired eyes playing tricks on you; it had to have been. That previous night, you and Jungkook had gotten distracted by watching a few episodes of a show together, not realizing how late it had become.

So, when you went to lie down upon returning to your apartment that afternoon, you silently prayed that when you'd wake, you'd be able to see a complete colour spectrum once more.

It only broke your heart when that wasn't the case.

You crumpled onto the floor after staring up at the monochromatic sky extending above you; not an ounce of blue could be found between the clouds, nor all the way to the horizon.

You were dreading talking with Jungkook about it.

The day you first were able to see in colour when you met him, never did you anticipate that one day they would begin to fade.

Could you have rushed into things too quickly? Did you love him more than he loves you?

Has he fallen out of love with you?

Regardless of the possibility, seeing the colours begin to disappear couldn't have meant anything good.

That's when you'd decided to hide it from anyone, especially from the boy you loved with nothing less than your full heart and entire being.

Perhaps feigning ignorance could make the hue return. At the least, it was wishful thinking.

When Jungkook returned home that evening, you pretended like nothing was wrong. When he'd asked about your outings with your best friends, you'd said how nice it was to see them again.

You even showed him the nail polish you bought for him when the other week he said how he was interested in trying some for himself; after seeing your nails decorated so prettily.

Despite the name of the bottle's shade reading Ebony Midnight, you found yourself doubting the colour. You second-guessed if it actually was black like you intended or some confusing and ambiguous tint of navy blue.

Jungkook kissed your cheek and told you how excited he was for the upcoming weekend when you'd have the time to paint his nails for him.

Yet, a few days later—on both of your days off—when your boyfriend came up to you with the nail polish bottle in hand, you found yourself brimming with tears uncontrollably.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong, love?"

You stepped back from Jungkook's advancement towards you.

"(Y/N)?"

His eyes held nothing but concern for you, and yet you still doubted his authenticity.

"Jungkook," you whispered, "what colour is that nail polish?"

The boy examined the small glass bottle. "It's black," he said like it was an obvious fact. He looked at it closer. "Wait, no, it almost looks dark blue in certain lighting."

All of the oxygen depleted from your lungs. You clasped your hand around your mouth as you wept, your eyes clamping shut both in frustration and in fear.

You felt Jungkook's arms wrap around you, pulling you into his chest and gently rubbing your back.

"Please," his voice was small, "can you tell me what's wrong? If it's because you got blue when I asked for black, that's not a big deal, love. I'm so happy you remembered when I told you about it. And I still want to use it! I could barely tell when I looked at it–"

"I can't see blue anymore."

Jungkook halted his ministrations on your back, tensing at your words.

"And I'm afraid to know what it means," you continued, struggling to find your words. "Do you not love me anymore? Am I not really your soulmate?"

Your boyfriend pulled away slightly so he could look at your face properly; tear-stained and all. "(Y/N), please. I love you more than anything in this world. Never forget that." He brushed away a stray tear falling down your cheek.

"Then why are my colours fading? I've never heard of that happening before..." You furrowed your eyebrows in thought. Another reason suddenly popped into your head. "Unless–"

You didn't let yourself finish that sentence. Your eyes met Jungkook's only to find his expression had become more solemn.

"No," you whispered. "Please, no. Don't tell me– I-It can't be–"

Jungkook said nothing and pulled you back closer to him. You squeezed the boy so tightly, sobs shaking your body. He hugged you back as he silently began to cry.

"Could we not talk about it right now?" his voice was quiet. "We're still doing some tests to rule out what it could be, so I don't have much information for you."

You nodded your head.

The two of you stayed in each other's embrace. Jungkook swayed your bodies slightly: a gentle rocking motion to help calm you down.

"Can you still paint my nails today?"

You forced a smile on your face over the tears that had spilled and were threatening to continue. "Of course."

You took Jungkook's hand and made your way to the couch, swallowing nausea from the information with which you'd just been burdened. While it was vague, it was heavy, nonetheless.

That night, you were having difficulties falling asleep. Jungkook kept tossing and turning by your side; he'd kick and move the blanket around too.

"Hey," you whispered, finding his shoulder in the darkness. "Are you okay?"

Jungkook sighed and brought his hand on top of yours, "I'm really warm. Too warm."

You could feel the clamminess of his hand.

"And I keep feeling itchy," he added. "The blanket isn't helping—it's making me warm and itchy and–"

"Okay, okay," you soothed him before he'd become too frustrated. You sat up and removed the duvet from his body. "Do you think a cool shower would help?"

There was silence while Jungkook thought. He rubbed his tired eyes and replied, "I can try," before standing from the bed.

"Hey," you grabbed his hand before he could walk away, "I love you."

"I love you too."

You heard the smile in his voice.

"Now, get some sleep, beautiful," Jungkook leant down to place one kiss on your forehead, then one to your lips.

You listened to the sound of your boyfriend's footsteps receding from your bedroom. Shortly after, the faucet came to life, and finally, the sound of the shower curtain dragged closed.

What you didn't hear was Jungkook allowing himself to cry in the shower.

•

The weather had been stormier lately.

Jungkook was waiting to surprise you with an adorable, little picnic to celebrate your university graduation; however, the weather had other plans.

There were some days where he'd check the weather forecast multiple times to see if there would be an upcoming opportunity to see clear skies and sunshine.

But every time, he was met with that dull, grey rain symbol on his phone.

Jungkook had had enough. Screw the weather, he thought, we'll have this goddamn picnic if it's the last thing I do; indoors if we must.

You were sleeping in on the day after your last exam. It gave your boyfriend the optimal chance to set up your living room with the checkered blanket and wicker basket after running out quickly to get some flowers. The boy had an artistic eye. After pushing aside some of the remaining cardboard boxes from the move, he was proud of the final arrangement of breakfast foods and the occasional tasteful scattered petal on the blanket. He even took advantage of some of the smaller pillows from the couch to make the set-up even cozier.

Jungkook began to anticipate your reaction, growing gradually more excited. He carefully made his way to your shared bedroom to wake you from your peaceful slumber.

"(Y/N)," he cooed, brushing away some stray hairs that fell onto your face while you slept.

You hummed at the feeling of his touch, slowly adjusting to the light seeping through the curtains. Once your eyes finally opened, you were met with Jungkook's affectionate gaze at you.

"Good morning, my beautiful love," he leant down to peck you.

"Gross!" you pushed him away, jokingly. "You're not allowed to kiss me until I've brushed my teeth." You sat up with a playful grin on your face. You lifted your arms, "Carry me?"

Jungkook chuckled as he stood from the bed, "Oh, so you call me gross, but now you want me to carry you to the bathroom?"

Despite his words, the boy moved in to wrap his arms around your torso, effectively picking you up.

"No, I wasn't calling you gross," you said as he brought you to the washroom, "it was the act of kissing me with my yucky morning breath. That was gross."

Jungkook placed you down once you were in the room. His arms never left your sides.

"I don't suppose you're going to ask if I can brush your teeth for you too, are you?"

You picked up your toothbrush, wetting the bristles and adding some toothpaste, "So sassy today, Guk," and began brushing your teeth.

The boy only smiled, wrapping his arms around you once again and squeezing your smaller frame in his strong embrace.

Once you finished washing up, Jungkook told you to close your eyes as he pulled you into the living room, bursting with excitement.

"Promise me you won't make me run into the couch or a wall or box or something," you mumbled as he pulled on your free hand; your other one was covering your eyes.

Jungkook giggled but complied with your promise.

Eventually, you felt him stop in front of you, making sure you wouldn't crash into his back. Beneath your feet, you felt the cold wooden floor of your living room.

"You can open them now," he muttered into your ear along with a gentle kiss.

And when you did, you saw the beautiful arrangement of treats and flowers all sat upon the old picnic blanket, surrounded by the final few boxes you'd yet to unpack. It was the same blanket you bought before you moved in together when you claimed that you'd love to go on a picnic date with him one day.

When you made that purchase, never would you have guessed that its first use would be in your newly-shared apartment inside on a rainy day.

"What's all this for?" you felt strangely emotional at the sentiment.

"It's for you, (Y/N)," he pulled you into his arms once more. "Happy graduation. I'm so proud of you."

Jungkook leaned down to kiss you properly for the first time that morning. His thumb traced the shell of your ear as he smiled into the kiss, feeling the way one of your hands clasped the back of his shirt while your other one threaded through his hair.

"You're incredible, Jungkook," you whispered as you broke from the kiss. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," he returned the sentiment and gave you another quick kiss. He took your hand and led you onto the blanket where you sat side-by-side.

"You know," you began as he mixed around the assorted fruits he chopped up earlier, "if we had a dog like you said you wanted, all this food wouldn't have been able to be left out on the floor."

Jungkook stopped fiddling with the fruit salad as he processed your words. "I still want a dog," he said simply and continued to stir. "But you're right. It would be a lot more challenging," he fed you a strawberry, "like having a baby."

"Dogs are like big babies," you chimed-in with a smile.

The two of you continued to snack while sat on the blanket. Small conversations and giggles were all that could be heard within the walls of your apartment. The atmosphere was significantly brighter than the downpour that continued outside.

"Do you think we'll see a rainbow today?" Jungkook asked as you both were now leaning against the base of the couch.

You were still clad in your pyjamas and him in his leisurewear.

"Maybe, if this rain ever stops," you replied. "Maybe if the sun shows itself."

"Maybe."

Jungkook brought the back of your hand to his lips, then laced his fingers between yours while the two of you continued to watch the rain.

•

"Do you have any nail polish remover?"

You heard Jungkook's footsteps approaching you in your bedroom, looking up to see his figure appearing in the doorway.

"Are you tired of how it looks already?" you smiled gently at him.

The boy shook his head. "Actually, I'm not allowed to have painted nails for tomorrow when I go to the hospital."

Your smile faded. "Oh, right. T-that's right. Um..." you got off the bed and trekked to the bathroom with Jungkook in tow. You opened the cabinet beneath the sink to find the little bottle. "Here you go. I have some cotton balls too to use with it. Do you need help with this too?"

"No, I should be able to do it myself."

"Okay," your hand found its way onto Jungkook's back, your thumb rubbed his shoulder. "Make sure you do it in a well-ventilated area."

"Thank you," he smiled.

Yet, you could tell his expression was only fleeting.

You were afraid. No, you were petrified of what tomorrow would bring.

Jungkook had been going through more testing lately, although you were still in the dark from it all. He kept giving you the same statements: "We're still figuring out what it could be," or "We're still not sure yet."

They were all just different versions of "I don't want to tell you because I don't want to worry you."

You still worried regardless.

You and Jungkook stood by the front door where you hugged him before he left for his recurrent hospital visit.

"Maybe you could paint my nails again when I come home tonight," he suggested, inhaling the scent of your shampoo for his memory as he held you in his embrace.

"Maybe," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Before you knew it, Jungkook was once again out the door.

It was only when you were alone that you'd let yourself cry. You knew you needed to stay strong for his sake. Being on the receiving end of a life-threatening disease was hard enough; you didn't want to make his experience any more challenging. Although, you still didn't know for sure if that's what it was.

Jungkook exited his car once he arrived at the familiar tall building. He stepped into the elevator and pressed the familiar button, and eventually turned left down the familiar hallway to the waiting room.

He was shortly after ushered into his doctor's office, taking a seat in the squeaky and uncomfortable and all-too-familiar grey chair.

His doctor soon after entered the room.

"How are you feeling today, Jungkook?" she greeted him with a gentle voice, taking a seat in front of her desk in the corner of the room.

"My headaches are becoming more frequent," he began. "I also haven't had much of an appetite either, and sometimes, it's difficult to breathe," he stated with furrowed eyebrows. "I've overall felt more tired lately. That might be the biggest thing—my lack of energy."

Dr. Kim hummed and jotted down some notes. "Have you told your soulmate anything yet?"

Jungkook shook his head, "No, I try not to. I don't want to stress her."

The doctor sat upright once again, finishing her writings. "You may want to reconsider that choice," she cleared her throat. "Your cells haven't been responding to the antibiotics as we'd like them to. Perhaps, if we had caught it sooner–"

"But we didn't." Jungkook's voice was firm. "We didn't, and this is my life now. We try, and we fail, and we repeat the cycle over and over." He took a deep breath. "As soon as you told me the diagnosis, I suspected I wouldn't make it for much longer. I suspected that I wouldn't get to live the future that I've dreamt of." His features softened as you entered his mind. "The future that I've wished for." Jungkook paused, then considered, "Can I spend my final days—however long I have—with my soulmate?"

Dr. Kim's eyes remained on Jungkook's. "Are you certain? Because there's another procedure we could try. It would require you to stay here in the hospital, and there would be risks associated with it due to the stage you're in, but it's the last one we can offer you."

"I'm sure." The boy didn't hesitate. "I'm positive. I just want to be with her," he felt himself tearing up. "She already knows that something is wrong. I don't want to tell her that my MRI is practically all made up of black-voids." Jungkook bitterly wiped away the tear that fell, "She's losing her colours. She knows I'm dying."

"So you'd like to spend the rest of your time at home with her?" Dr. Kim clarified.

"More than anything."

•

"Surprise!"

Jungkook's hands lifted from your eyes.

"What's all of this?" you asked with a smile.

"For you, silly."

You giggled, looking between the array of treats displayed on the picnic blanket and your beautiful boyfriend. "I kind of figured that, Guk. But why?"

"Do I need a reason to treat you, my love?" Jungkook pulled you close to him, "I felt bad about the last time when we were stuck inside from the rain. I wanted to try again, properly, this time."

"But do you see all of this?" You gestured to the container next to you, "We couldn't finish everything you prepared last time, but you still got a cake for today! Do you expect the two of us to eat an entire cake along with everything else you've packed?"

The boy chuckled, "Come on, (Y/N), it's not that big of a cake. I'm sure we can finish it all no problem." He popped open the plastic container, eager to taste it. "And if not, then we'll have some to eat for tomorrow."

His logic was reasonable, you considered.

Jungkook picked up a fork and dug it into the side of the strawberry cake, only to bring the utensil up to your lips to give you the first bite.

"How is it?" your boyfriend asked, trying to gauge your expression as you chewed.

"Absolutely delicious," was your muffled response.

Jungkook reached up to wipe off the speck of whipped cream from the corner of your mouth before feeding himself a forkful.

"It is delicious!" he said with delight as the strawberry flavour danced across his tastebuds. "I may not know how to make a cake, but I sure know how to pick a good one."

"Ah, yes, picking good cakes is a valuable life skill to have," you playfully teased, admiring the way Jungkook continued to inhale more of the dessert.

The two of you laid back on the blanket after working your way through some of the treats (and about half of the cake; it was more than you anticipated you two would be able to finish in one sitting). Your head was resting on Jungkook's chest while he played with the ends of your hair as the two of you admired the heavens.

The sky was immaculately blue with picture-perfect white fluffy clouds decorating it. Jungkook was getting nervous when he woke up to rain that morning, knowing he had all of the preparations ready for the picnic. But now, the post-rain summer afternoon left a comfortable temperature with the sun high in the sky, warming the grass and gradually working its way to kiss the horizon.

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

You glanced upwards from your position on Jungkook's upper body.

His eyes remained fixated on the sky as he asked softly, "Would you like to get married?"

The grin on your face was immediate at hearing his question. "Without a doubt, yes."

Jungkook beamed back at you and hugged you tightly, kissing the top of your head.

"This isn't a proposal because I don't have the ring yet," he muttered into your hair, "but you already make me the happiest man alive. I can only imagine how incredible our future will be, (Y/N)." You felt him squeeze you slightly tighter. "There's nothing more that I want than to grow old with you by my side."

You felt yourself getting emotional at his words. "When the time comes that you do propose, know that it's already a yes." You propped yourself up so you could move to meet Jungkook's mouth with your own, caressing the side of his face while his hand continued to fiddle with your hair.

Jungkook grinned into the kiss. In all the years he's spent kissing you, the act never failed to pull butterflies from his chest.

You eventually pulled away only to see the light pink dusting across your boyfriend's cheeks with matching rosy lips. You could spend all day admiring him, and he, likewise, could do the same with watching you.

You once again nuzzled into his side with an arm around his torso, returning your gaze to the sky. It was beginning to shift into a radiant, golden-colour the lower the sun fell; the clouds reflected the light, displaying a gentle wash of coral-pink.

You're forever grateful for all of the dazzling colours which Jungkook brought into your life.

Goosebumps tingled throughout your body at the way the boy so gently grazed his fingers along your arm. The outside air was growing chillier with the depleting sunlight, yet being pressed against Jungkook supplied you with enough warmth to stay comfortable.

"Hey, look over there," your boyfriend indicated to your left. "Do you see that?"

You lifted your gaze to above where he was pointing.

•

There was a rainbow in the sky on the day that Jungkook died.

You received the dreadful phone call from the hospital early that afternoon. You thought he'd only stepped out for his usual testing. You had been admiring the way the sun finally broke through the dense rain clouds as you were waiting for his return home.

However, minutes before your phone rang, your whole world drained of colour. It was the difference between one blink. One split-second; one moment. You could see the golden sunbeams as they danced down to the concrete below, and then, suddenly, you couldn't. Everything became a varying shade of the asphalt; every hue vanished in that instant.

It was only a few weeks after you painted his nails for the first and last time. Of course, there was no way you'd have known it was the last time then.

Your heart tore into two at thinking how much pain Jungkook must have experienced near the end. He never once complained to you about any of it; he never told you what was wrong. You only found out afterwards from his doctor over the phone.

You nearly missed the sight of the rainbow after you set your phone down: the arc extended above the city in its monochromatic glory in the equally colourless sky.

You could recall the different hues that would make up the once pretty sight.

"You should make a wish, (Y/N)!"

"Make a wish on a rainbow?"

"You've never heard of that before?"

You pulled your eyes from the sight in the sky to your boyfriend's face, "No, never."

"Then today shall be your first."

"Hm, well, alright, Guk."

You sat up on the picnic blanket and clasped your hands together, pressing your eyes shut as you reiterated your wish in your head. Upon opening your eyes once you finished, you were blessed with Jungkook's delicate features gazing at you.

You brushed away some of his hair that fell into his eyes.

"What did you wish for, my love?" Jungkook whispered, leaning into your touch.

You exchanged his glance, admiring his beautiful brown eyes smiling at you, and inched closer so you could kiss him.

But now, you kind of hated rainbows.

"I wished to spend a lifetime with you."

They reminded you of your wishes that would, now, never come true.

"I wished for the exact same thing."

••

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[anonymousbaev]

RFA cheating on Mc (V ver.)

Jihyun: RFA reaction to Mc living her new life after they cheated on her and she left RFA.

In reference to this post, return to masterlist. *Warning: Includes profanity and scenes that may trigger some audiences.*

Early in the morning, the sky smeared orange with a tint of pink, Mc strolled down the empty road of the small village. In one hand, she held the treasured camera her silly fiancé left behind. With the other sliding against the painted concrete walls.

The walk to V’s studio was not far, it was only minutes away from the cottage Mc and Jihyun have been living in for a year. Mc knocked at the door before entering with a merry smile.

Mc loved V, something about him made her weak to her knees. Knowing his difficult past, she was well aware and all she wanted to do was help him, watch him find happiness. She knew better than anyone else, this man deserved to be happy.

Peering into the studio, she saw her beloved on the sofa, his arms tightly wrapped around a woman as if comforting her. Mc didn't think much of it at first, V, well known of being generous and thoughtful, although jealous, she was sure, that was another one of his kind gestures. Willing to give them privacy for whatever was happening, she began to creak the door close.

However her motions stopped, becoming stiff, when she heard the woman's muffled cries turn into muffled moans, with her breathy voice calling out for V. With that, V then desperately groaned for the woman, uncomfortable noises shortly following after. Mc stood still, unable to comprehend the waves of emotions rushing into her like sharp arrows.

Ironically with V, noticing the slightly opened door at that moment, he whispered to his mistress, pardoning himself for a minute as he walked over to the ajar door. When he got closer, he saw his official lover standing with silent tears that rolled down her cheeks. He gasped as he fully opened the door, "Mc?"

Using the sleeve of her knitted sweater, she frantically wiped her cheeks, leaving faint but stinging marks with the rough material. Fearfully looking up at his remorse filled eyes, she noticed the smeared lipstick on his lips.

Swallowing hard with anxiety at the sight of him, she took a step back, looking away and biting her lips till she tasted the foul iron in her mouth. V saw the blood on her lips as he gently reached for her hand, hooking a finger in with hers. He whispered in a low voice, "My love, I understand that you feel betrayed. I know you're disappointed but please don't hurt yourself." Finally with that, she released her lower lip, still stained red. Her small figure trembled with a mask of pain as his heart clanged with guilt, and hers clawed with pain.

Mc gently pulled her hand away from his as she avoided to meet his gaze, "V..." Her lips quivered as his arms slowly wrapped around her body. 

With just that... she just wanted to forgive him again, and again.

Everyday, the one thought she would always used to wake up was the thought of making this man happy.  But that was impossible now. Faced with the reality, knowing she'd never be able to trust him again, their relationship could never be stable. And she would never drag V into another toxic relationship. Mc had self control, she knew... no matter how hard she tried, she would become insecure each day that came. That would break her, that would destroy her. That would turn her... insane. Just like Rika.

In truth Mc always knew, nobody would be able to take the place Rika held in V's heart. He could meet all the woman in this world, really have the Earth at the very tip of his hands but he would never love another woman. Only did Mc see that, when she watched V kiss the other woman, with the same dull, empty expression he had when he even kissed Mc. Everything seemed so unclear, held in the man she obviously loved... it only hurt?

Just one thing was clear to her at the moment, this was her limit. And she'd done well to this point, but it was time to stop. Time to give up, wherever this man's happiness was, it wasn't with her. She had to let go now. She had to accept that now.

Even if she's not the one he loves... she'll be okay.

And if breaking this engagement would be the only way he would become happy... she would do it.

Mc pushed against his abdomen, begging him, "V, please let go." And that only made V cling tighter onto her.

Jihyun, oblivious to all the thoughts going inside her head, he was only aware that she had seen him and his unfaithful acts. He absolutely despised himself. It had been long since V knew Mc was still unsure of his feelings towards her, and this god damn situation... it wasn't helping. V knew, he loved her, more than anyone... anything in this world. So it was unexplainable... why he had done that....

V watched his world break down, in pain and betrayal with no one to blame but himself.

Mc tightly clenched her heart with a bittersweet smile, "You only made me more...and more miserable. But I still loved you, V. I can't do this anymore, and this is for the better. For the both of us." she choked a little on the last of her words before continuing to the next, "...We’re over, V.” The last three words shattered his heart as he helplessly watched her leave.

If only he could turn back time..

It was too late now.

He had already hurt her one... too many times.

Mc packed her stuff at the cottage, all she needed was an escape from this place. She didn’t know where to go or what she would do. She only knew the days ahead of her had turned into nothing but a complicated mess. 

She found herself in a cab in front of Yoosung's small apartment with a large bag she struggled to carry. But Mc was hesitant to ring on the doorbell, not wanting to become such a burden. Sighing with exhaustion, she noticed a pair of hands on her shoulder, “Mc... are you alright?” Mc turned around to see Yoosung, his brows knitted in concern and university bag lazily over his shoulder.

Her pale face was enough to tell him, she wasn’t okay.

Yoosung offered for Mc to come in as he helped carry her giant duffle bag. (He struggled to carry it, but brought it inside with no complaints.) The boy then offered a warm cup of jasmine tea as he rubbed Mc's back in a way of comfort on the couch... 

Clearly distressed, Mc rest her head on her hand, soon beginning to tremble as her tears began to stain her jeans in a darker shade of blue. This left Yoosung truly confused on what he should do. So instead of any words, he quietly continued to rub her back until she was ready to speak. When she finally looked up her lips slowly parted as she began, “Sorry, it’s late right now. I hope I’m not burdening you.”

“No it’s okay! Are you okay? Did something happen with V? Is he okay???” 

She nodded with a smile, “He’s fine. Everything’s fine. I came here to ask for a favor.” He seemed hesitant at first, but agreed, afraid when she pushed out her phone towards him, “Can I leave you with this?” 

He was shocked and concerned, recalling the time when Mc had mentioned she would leave her phone with a member if she ever wanted to leave. That was years ago, when she’d first joined the organization. Never once had he thought, she would really leave, “Why? You can take some more time to think about it... Mc I don’t know what happened but-”

“I can’t stay here Yoosung. I’ll end up hurting him if I do... I have to leave.” he was silent, and she couldn’t make out the expression he had but with that, she tightly and briefly held his hands before letting go, “I can only trust you with this, please.”

Tears rolled down the man’s eyes as he watched her leave. It was clear to him why she had chose him to leave this with. Nobody would stand up for her, they would all stand with V. But with Yoosung, he knew, Mc had a reason in doing this. He was absolutely fumed with rage, only imagining what V might’ve done to her... To make her this upset.

Mc only did the one thing that would comfort her best in this situation to which was returning to move in with her mom. Nothing as much as visiting loved family would help her calm down.

After Mc left, V found himself isolated from everyone. Left as an empty shell, he was lost, only often staring at the pictures of Mc, reminding him for what he had lost. Dreaming of her every night, longing for her warmth, he just desperately wished, to be able to see her again. Even if a feet apart... to see her smiling.

And as though his prayers had been answered, he saw her again. A long distance between the two of them, but he saw her clearly and brightly smiling. It was like fate to be able to run into her again. She was held in another man’s warmth, but all of that... it didn’t matter to him,

"I'm glad you're happy now... You deserve the world, my star..."

#mystic messenger #v x mc #mc x v #mysme #mysme fanfic #mystic messenger fanfic #mysme v #mystic messenger v

[v-velvetykisscs]

Safety Net

about: kingpin! eren x reader (f), mafia! au

summary: following his father's mysterious passing, eren is appointed successor of yeager corporation – also known to the public as the “Titans” due to their immense influence in the underground world- eren is determined to find out what's happened to his father. however, after the misstep of one of his own affiliates lands him in trouble with his cynical half-brother he’s chosen to blatantly ignore for weeks as well as an impertinent woman full of empty threats and impressive bravado stumbles upon his operations, eren finds his hands are quite full. 

wc: 1,369 words

edit: 07/02/21

The road is lit by the headlights of the grey, company truck ahead and the crescent moon above in the night sky. I glance out of the window at the rolling, illuminated scene. Skyscrapers, twinkling like fallen stars, taken right from the twilight scape. My eyes divert to the yellow street-light-tinged rain droplets staggering down the glass. The driver turns the windshield wipers on. The tires make their monotonous hiss over the rain-washed highway.

I sigh, brushing a stray hair off of my face. I look down at my phone for the millionth time.

Me: Where are you? 

Historia: Shiganshina District, The Sugar Shack, 62nd Street.

Me: I never took you for a party girl, Historia.

Historia: Well it’s nice to be able to unwind once in a while. Don’t you think?

Me: Yes, can I trust you to stay where you are?

Historia: Obviously, I’m not an imbecile

Me: Good girl. Be there in 5.

Suddenly, amidst all the grey buildings, We encounter one painted a vivid crimson. The shocking colour frames a painting two stories high that depicts a beautiful woman in a red-and-lilac kimono sniffing a flower. A few blocks later there is another painted a shocking pink. A two-story poster depicts a pair of anime girls in French maid costumes, breasts overflowing laced bodices. An invisible fishing line hoists up the backs of ruffled skirts to reveal the clefts of their butts. The driver rolls through the crowded broad boulevards and shops spilling out their glittering merchandise. There are women prancing down the empty roads in pastel platform shoes, beaming and laughing. They blend in with the dainty and cute toy shop behind them. She pauses at the red traffic light and taps a french-manicured nail against the steering wheel. 

Further down the street, a navy blue building catches my eye. The woman drives towards it, decelerating the car, cautiously looking into the wing mirror to make sure there’s some parking space. She hits the break, and I sweep my messenger bag off the bare passenger seat. I smile softly at her through the rear-view mirror. “I’ll make sure to leave a good review! Thank you!”

I slam the door of my car gently. There’s a blue neon insignia at the front that reads “The Sugar Shack”. I walk hurriedly towards it, ID in hand. I keep it up long enough for the brute bouncer to nod at me and move out of my way.

I’m standing at the threshold of the nightclub. Blue is the dominant colour: the small tables and chairs are blue; the very short faux leather backless dresses of the waitresses are blue; the mezzanine where the Dj is mixing every kind of music is blue; The floating led lights flash between hues of blue, they dance with the go-go dancers who are dressed in shiny mini-skirts rigid like plastic, they dance with the dozens of people that crowd the immense dance floor where the classic, twinkling mirrored ball dangles. The music is loud, the speakers rumble the bass sounds so hard that some of the glasses shake on the tables. I open my phone, and search for the messages app. I start composing a message:

Me: I’m here, where are you?

I decide to get a head start towards the bar where I imagine Historia chose to stay at so that I could easily find her. A stumpy, drunken man approaches me and yells in my ear, “Hey baby, care to show me a good t-?” I don’t let him finish his sentence before I walk past him. He is so out of it that he doesn’t trouble himself to chase after me. I continue my brisk walk but there’s only a wooden counter filled of empty or spilt drinks. Torn colourful parasols and dried up lemon slices. No Historia. I eye the waiter. His back is turned to me as he dries wet cups with a little white towel.  “Hey! Waiter!” I shout over the music. He turns, almost instantly, staring at me, still processing that I’ve called him. He blinks and gives me a warm beam. I mirror him. He has warm, chocolate eyes and a light brown messy hair-do. “Hi! I’m looking for my friend, I was wondering if you might’ve seen her tonight. She looks like this.” He nods. I unclasp my bag and take my phone out, turning it on, showing him my lock screen. A picture of me and Historia at graduation, wearing forest green robes and matching hats. “No, I’m afraid I haven’t, sorry.” He frowns sympathetically. “Well thank you anyways!” 

Ping. 

A response.

 Historia: I’m at the bar on the second floor! 

I head for the dance floor as soon as I read her text, making a bee line through the sea of sweaty bodies. Men and women are moving like uncoiling ropes, bobbing their heads to the aggressive, music beat. People press against me and I nudge them back like bowling pins. I take a deep breath and continue my trek through the narrow leeway of moving bodies. Soon enough I reach the staircase and I take them in twos. I get to the top and turn, My eyes zero-ing on a petite blonde sat on a swivel seat. My eyes widen. I power walk towards her. 

“Historia!”

 She looks up at me and stumbles off the seat spreading her ams open to embrace me. I hold her close and smile. She laughs. She’s wearing a form-fitting glamorous knee-length light blue dress. Her hair is in a neat high bun.

“You look gorgeous” 

“Puh-lease Y/N, you look attractive in whatever you decide to wear.”

I look down at my black bootcut jeans, white tank top, red converse sneakers and black fur jacket. 

“You flatter me but I’m definitely underdressed.” 

Her cheerful expression slowly washes away from her face and she looks away, frowning. 

“Look, There’s something I have to tell you.”

I nod as I wait for her to speak.

“There’s something I’ve been keeping from you until now and I thought that you’d ought to know. Now.”

“What’s up?” 

She takes her blue orbs off of me and scans the rest of the room nervously, her eyes fixed on someone. I turn to mimic her and I lock eyes with a man in a tuxedo sat on a plush, red velvet futon. He has raven black hair with a pale complexion, his eyes are grey and he swirls a glass of rum in one hand. He stands, not breaking eye contact. Historia pinches my jacket sleeve.

“We should go.” She declares sternly.

I nod, this man looks like danger. We walk rapidly down the stairs together bursting through the crowd on the outside of the dance floor.

“The back exit!” I direct.

Historia follows me and I push the back door violently, it opens and we walk through it, into a dark alleyway. The faint, putrid odour of trash catches onto our nostrils as we walk through the maze of darkness. We make a turn and a tall man steps out of the shadows, Historia whimpers and I grab her hand, spinning her around the other way. We run and I turn around to see that the man isn’t alone. I hear a gun cocking and I tug at Historia’s hand so that she runs faster. 

We turn once again and she topples over. She winces and mewls and I try to pick her up. I’m not in control of my breathing anymore. I look up to see a faint light ahead; An exit. We’re near.

“Get up Toria, Now.” I whisper aggressively. She discards her heels and lifts herself up, wobbling. I grasp her hand again and we sprint as far as out feet take us. We emerge into the street light. An engine revs and a slick, black Lamborghini pulls up before our eyes.

“Get in! I know the guy.”

I don’t question her and yank the door handle open, she slips in and I follow shortly after, pulling the door in. As soon as I do, The engine starts back up and we’ve taken our leave.

#eren x you #eren yeager #attack on titan #mafia au #aot smut #fanfic #writing #wattpad

[moodymidnightkitten]

Spark

A/N: Woof, what a busy holiday season, well anyways I’m back and new binging Black Clover, so heres my official fan application, an almost 2k fanfic for Zora Ideale. 

Genre: fluff

w/c: 1939

Synopsis: reader from the real human universe lands herself in the Black Clover Universe (I could describe this more but I’m pulling blanks, feedback on how to make this better after y’all read this, that would be great.)

Pair: Zora Ideale x Reader

Ope heres my masterlist 

Ugh god, what time is it? You asked, rubbing your head, sitting on cold hard ground outside. A completely different place from where you were, napping in a cozy warm bed at home in, reality? You've seen enough anime to know that this definitely not the normal home setting you're used to. But what anime? You looked around, doing a complete 180 and coming face to face with the one and only Black Bulls hideout. 

"No fucking way," you mumbled to yourself. What in the magical hell is this? Also, what the hell are you supposed to do now? 

"Ooooo who are you?!" A memorable voice chimed in behind you. Turning around you came face to face with no other than Asta. 

You scratched the back of your head and gave the most non convincing fake smile you could muster up in this situation. Completely flustered and star struck. 

"Oh, I uhm, my name is y/n," you gave a measly laugh. 

"Are you a spatial magic user? You just fell from the sky?!" He loudly stated. You knew there was only one clear cut way into figuring out your situation. 

"Actually no, I don't even know how I got here, but do you think you'd be able to get me to the Wizard King, he might be able to help.." you suggested. 

Astas eyes lead beyond you through your request, you didn't feel it until now but a towering and looming figure was now behind you, with a voice that most certainly matched the profile, it was Yami, the captain of the Black Bulls. 

"Oi, you'd have better luck with me, Asta, you're to come with us," was all he said as he walked past you and grabbed onto Astas collar and pulled him with him as well. Everything happened so quickly you had to do a light jog to catch up with them. 

"I really appreciate this, thank you," you said in between huff's of air trying to fill your lungs back up. 

"Your clothes are a give away to your difference in upbringing. As well as I watched you just fall, so I also want to know how you got to 'this world'' Yami was short and to the point, as he's always portrayed. 

"Well I appreciate this a lot Captain Yami and Asta," as soon as you said their names Yami stopped walking. 

"How do you know who we are?" He grumbled in confusion. 

"You won't believe me when I tell you but, this place, and everyone here is actually a show, more namely, an anime where I'm from," you probably sounded crazy. Actually not probably, most certainly because the two men looked at each other and laughed the most hearty laugh you've ever heard. And so with everything being said, all three of you continued you way to see the Wizard King.

After meeting with the Wizard King who basically certified that you're from another plane of existence who entrusted Yami to watch over you. Although you're not from here the wizard king ensured that you came here with magic powers. So now you were a part of the Black Bulls. 

But now you were stuck with living with one of your anime men crushes. Zora Ideale. It's not like you've never been around men you were attracted to, but this is just on some whole new level. This was fictional beauty and desire come true. 

Those were the only thoughts going through your head on top of the fact you now had to learn your new magical powers and make yourself an asset to your new team. It's only stressful because it's time and space magic. So what, are you now Doctor fucking Strange? It made your head hurt thinking about it all too much. What's even more intense is the fact you bent realities while SLEEPING. How in the hell were you going to figure all of that out. But hey, at least you have a pretty nice grimoire. Black marble with gold tripping and a dazzling black diamond looking clover embedded on the cover. 

“Ah, finally back,” You heard Yami exasperate as you three came up to the base. Pushing open the doors and allowing you and Asta to walk inside. Everyone else of the Black Bulls was busy doing whatever they usually do as you walked in, Yami stopped shortly ahead of you and yelled. 

“Alright, listen up fuckers, we have a new member today, this is y/n, make yourself acquainted. Finral, bathroom.” Was all he said as Finral rushed over, stars dancing in his eyes upon looking at you.  You smiled back at him as Vanessa wrapped herself around your shoulders, clad in only lingerie with a bottle of cheap wine in her free hand. 

“Oooo where did you get such an outfit?! So cute!” Vanessa said, slowly peeling herself away from you and taking you all in, slowly but surely everyone else introduced themselves and bombarded you with questions, all except Zora, who seemed to be sleeping on the couch across the room very obviously trying to ignore the whole situation. Luckily enough for you Asta made his introduction for him so now it wouldn’t be weird for you to know who he was already. 

“Let me show you around!” Asta exclaimed, eagerly walking ahead of you, you followed him, taking one small peek behind you at the handsome masked man laying on the couch, who was actually peering at you through slitted eyes, causing a blush to paint on your cheeks as you quickly looked ahead of you and pressing your grimoire to your chest. All you heard behind you with a small chuckle causing your small blush into a blazing one. 

You got settled in very quickly and spent most of your days getting along and getting to know mostly everyone on the team. It was nice, you didn’t feel out of place and you’ve actually been able to use a little bit of magic here and there with the help of everyone around you. Of course thoughts of live at home, normal real home crept into your mind but you were practically begging to be in some new reality and experience the unreal, and now look, your sheer will bent the universes and landed you here. Could you really complain? 

At the current moment in time you were sitting on your own reading in the main common area while everyone else was either on a mission or also enjoying their time off. Except Zora, who quite unusually will just chill against the wall or on the couch when he isn't in town or traveling about to mess around with dirty nobles. But right now felt more intense, like someone was staring at you, and not just someone, but Zora, his piercing gaze felt like no other. It was like a scientist waiting for a rat to do something out of the normal. You turned in your seat and to no surprise there he was with his sea blue eyes just peering at you, causing the ever so common raging blush to paint your face, but you weren’t going to let that stop you from confronting him. 

“If you’re going to stare at me you might as well take a picture of me cretin,” you boldly stated, turning back in your seat. Why did you have to call him a cretin? What normal person just calls people cretins? Luckily he must have not taken offense because he was laughing and he walked over and sat next to you. 

“Cretin? Interesting way of flirting with me Cherry,” you looked down from your book and saw him with his head in his hand. His witty comeback against you was very obviously a job at how red your cheeks got when you were around him. 

“Well I wasn’t flirting with you, Match Book,” a stupid jab at has his hair looked also wasn’t the way to go but I guess this classic middle school back and forth flirting was how it was going to go. And it seemed to be the best option available because you now felt more comfortable in his presence and it seemed you two were getting along. 

“What do you want anyways Zora?” You asked, shutting your book and placing it on the table. He raised his eyebrow. 

“Let’s go for a walk,” with that he stood up without waiting for an answer and made his way to the door. Quickly you got up and followed him. You two didn’t speak for a bit as you walked, eventually you two came up to a small lake a few hundred feet from the base, Zora sat down in one of the clear patches, you decided to take up residence a few inches away. 

“This is beautiful,” you smiled, looking out to the peaceful lake glistening in the evening sun. 

“It is, but not as much as you.” Zora said, so blatant and straight forward. And if your face has never been this red and on fire before, well it was now. You didn’t even know you stopped breathing until, well, you needed air. 

“What..?” You looked at him as he was still peering at the lake.

“Oi, I’m not going to repeat myself,” Zora said in the most disgruntled way. 

“You’re different, everything about you, you don’t know what youre doing, you’re clumsy, your cheeks get this cozy red when I’m around, you radiate this positive do good energy and I’m drawn to it, I’ve been watching you since you got here, you’re intriguing,” he kept talking so honestly it made you wonder when he would ever stop flattering you, before you could say anything he said one last thing. 

“I want to get to know you.” He finally looked at you wearing a weak smile with a blazing blush that was so strong it krept a bit up and past his mask. 

“That was a lot, all at once, and to say I don’t feel anything back would be a lie, personally you radiate lawful chaotic energy but it's fun, I want to get to know you better as well.” You smiled and so didn’t he as you two looked back to the lake. You two sat there peacefully before being interrupted by someone gracefully coming through a spatial magic portal, wearing robes you know all too well, braided hair and the obvious facial marking, Licht. 

“Y/n, I see you’ve arrived,” he said calmly. “You probably don’t know who I am, but I know all about you,” dread filled your body like a subzero frost striking your bones. 

“I know who you are. What do you want.” Licht smiled at you. 

“I want to show you why you’re here,” he offered once he got closer but before you knew it Zora jumped in between you two. 

“Listen freakshow, she’s not going anywhere with you,” You could see every muscle in Zoras body tense in front of you, the tip of your nose practically touching his back. Licht chuckled.

“Hmm? I wasn’t offering,” Before you could even blink Zoras body was thrown away and now nothing stood in between you and Licht and before you knew it a force hit your body so hard you blacked out, slowly but surely phasing in and out of sleepy, your name was being yelled and fading out in the background and you felt you body being raised off the ground, the last thing you saw was Zora reaching out to you as much as he could, fingertips grazing upon your own as you slipped out of consciousness.

#zora ideale #zora ideale x reader #zora x reader #black clover fanfiction #black clover #fanfcition #fanfic writing #zora ideale x you #zora ideale fluff #zora ideala x y/n #zora ideale fanfic #zora ideale x fanfiction