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sorryimanon · 4 years

Text

Character: Katsuki Bakugou

Warnings/tags: heart warming fluff, language, and suggestive themes

Word count: 2.5k

In which your boyfriend takes it upon himself to pamper you on his day off.

Author’s note: some self indulgent fluff. this is a continuation of dad!bakugou and torch daughter. there will be more. enjoy :)

D/N= daughters name

Katsuki heavily relied on you to babysit your rambunctious four year old daughter during the days when he'd be on patrol from dusk till dawn. Very rarely would he be home before the two of you tucked yourselves in for the night, leaving him to eat the leftovers from dinner alone at the table. As sad as it is, it didn't bother you in the slightest. In fact, knowing Katsuki was keeping the crime rate of Japan low, you were more than happy to become a stay at home mom. Most of your friends tried to talk you out of it, but you were already settled after giving your two weeks notice at your low paying job. Waking up and seeing your daughter first thing in the morning is better than staring blankly at a bright screen all day behind a musty wall, running on nothing but decaf coffee, and sluggishly going to and fro like a zombie.

Ever since your daughter manifested her quirk, you’ve been trying your best to maintain her sudden outbursts while at home. The doctor prescribed it as Torch: the ability to become a human torch and ignite flames throughout your body and fingertips. For now d/n is only capable of setting herself on fire, using the flames as a barrier to protect her from any harm instead of combating. However, sometimes she'll forget to extinguish herself, having you to manually use an actual fire extinguisher on her. Burn marks would litter the outskirts of your shirts, the aftermath ash smudged on your face, and the tiny hairs on your forearms long gone after handling d/n.

Your boyfriend appreciates the way how you compose yourself around d/n, not allowing the temptation to fling the little gremlin out the window prevail, because if the roles were reversed it'd be a whole different story. Sometimes he sits back in his desk chair, after a long night of meandering around the city, and tries to remember the last time you were properly treated. Of course, Katsuki never fails to remind you day and night he loves you through his actions, some including selfish indulgence late at nights, but all in all he didn't lack being the hopeless romantic counterpart for you. He wanted you to take a break from it all, have him handle the at home duties and the slimy daughter. Leaning back against the chair with his brows furrowed slightly, he began to mentally plan out your day already.

It was a Friday when Katsuki forced himself out of the comfortable security that is your arms and walked with light feet to his daughters bedroom. Today is his day off, so he has to make sure everything goes smoothly or else he's going to have more burn marks on his office desk.

He didn't bother knocking first and saunters in the familiar space, the faint snores from d/n somehow relaxing him. Her walls were freshly painted a light shade of blue, the contrast not too saturated to peel the attention away from her posters that covered every inch of her room, all of which were pictures of his prohero colleagues. D/N had to beg for her father to purchase a Deku poster, one of which she saw don display when the both of you brought her to the mall for a quick trip. He internally cringes every time he makes eye contact with the lifeless eyes of Deku when he enters her room.

Katsuki neared his daughter and kneeled down to where his head was leveled with hers, chuckling lightly when finding a small pool of drool collecting on her cheek.

"Wake up little shit," he whispers, nudging her uncovered shoulder with his knuckles, startling her eyes to flutter open. D/n nearly gasped at the sight of her father. The covers that were wrapped snuggly around her fell at the foot of her bed when she jolted up in surprise, eyes brimming with excitement.

"It's today right? Mommy's day!" Katsuki covered her mouth with his abnormally large hand, not wanting her obnoxious voice to blow their cover.

"Yes, but you're gonna have to be quiet for daddy. Don't want to spoil the surprise for mommy, you understand ya little brat?"

Hand still attached to her mouth, d/n nodded her head feverishly, hands clenched into tiny fits. Once he thinks she's shimmered down a little, he finally removes his hand and motions her to follow him.

Meanwhile in the other room, you were still fast asleep, limbs not once switching from their position over the cozy blanket. The chill breeze from the propped window regulated your body temperature nicely, along with the beautiful songs sung by the birds that reside in the trees close by. You stirred awake momentarily, feeling the loss of a presence that's usually laying beside you during these times of slumber. Katsuki's side was empty, the indent from his body molded onto the foam mattress, leaving you to believe he woke up not that long ago.

After convincing yourself to leave the comfort of your bed, you decided to search for the missing blonde. You crack open the door to a weird combination of radio music blaring throughout the house, and the delicious smell of something cooking in grease. It's no doubt your boyfriends doing. He always likes to impress you with how skillful he is in the kitchen. He hasn't made a dish you disliked yet nor will he allow himself to do so.

Standing side by side, minus the height difference, d/n and Katsuki both were too immersed in their cooking to notice you leaning against the island counter, trying very hard to not cry instantly at the sight in front of you. Watching them interact together was definitely something you'd be treasuring for the years to come.

A rush of savory and sweetness infiltrated your senses, the scent strong enough to knock you back to sleep. As if he read your mind overnight, Katsuki took it upon himself to prepare your favorite breakfast dishes. The dinner table made for three already set by none other than d/n, who currently looked proud at her work and craftsmanship. A large vase was propped in the center, a collection of vibrant flowers stuffed to the brim, the water inside almost overflowing. Attached to one of the stems of the flowers was a tag, the handwriting sloppy and hard to decipher.

To my dumbass, love ya - K.B

You felt the delicate touch of your daughter wrapping her hand around yours, giving it a slight tug before pulling you into the kitchen again. Katsuki flicked his gaze to you now, flashing the same mischievous grin you grew to love. his hands simultaneously worked on the food while taming the animal, that is indeed your daughter, from bumping into the pan handles.

"What's all this for?" You asked, the question directly appointed to both your boyfriend and daughter.

"Oh, so I can't treat my sexy girlfriend to a good meal?" he teased while setting the burners to low, letting the food cool off before plating it. Your daughter audibly gagged at the comment and swatted Katsuki's arm.

D/N's tiny legs were faster than yours and reached the cabinet where the plates and cutlery were stored at. To her dismay, the cabinet was higher than she anticipated. trying her best to waiver down the disappointment as she climbed on the sleek marble counter top, losing her footing here and there. Katsuki caught her in time before she misplaced her footing and almost toppled onto the floor.

"May I need to remind you not to climb on the damn counter tops anymore d/n?" he scolded as he put her down before grabbing enough plates for everyone.

Pursing her lips tightly, she crossed her arms and said, "But if I'm going to be a future hero then I have to battle my way through tough obstacles!"

U.A's immense training and work studies came in handy when dealing with d/n's hard headed ideologies. It's been a stressful reoccurrence, having to constantly teach her the importance of being a hero at such a young age. Her impulsive tendencies mirrored the blondes old habit of taking action before thinking. But there was always a saying when storing away your fear and facing danger head on.

"That's true, but sometimes a little teamwork wouldn't hurt. Your father should know a thing or two about that when he was a young U.A student," you said as you patted her head.

"What'd you say shitty woman? Talking crap so early in the morning already?" a strange popping sound alerted you to turn around, only to find Katsuki flaring his flashy quirk with a glare that could splice you open.

But his alarming gaze wasn't the thing that was scaring you at the moment.

"WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT USING YOUR QUIRK IN THE HOUSE! YOU'RE GONNA SET OFF THE FIRE ALARM AGAIN, IDIOT!"

You thought the smorgasbord of a breakfast was the last of your boyfriends romantic gestures, but you should've known better once he demanded you to change out of your sleep attire and into something to wear outside. Not thinking twice about where he was dragging you to, including daughter, you decided to play it safe. He approved on your choice of ripped jeans, synthetic tank top, and thrown on cardigan once heading off to the car.

The car ride to the mysterious destination was short lived as your boyfriend pulled up into the driveway of his old house. Mitsuki stood waiting by the threshold of the doorway, waving her fingers sweetly to whom you can only assume was you and not her only son. She stepped off the porch once Katsuki shifted the car in park, unlocking the doors as well. His mother reached the side where d/n stayed strapped in her seat and yanked the door open.

"Ah my little princess! How have you been? I missed you so much!" She unbuckled d/n's seat belt and flattened her in a tight hug, squeezing till her eyes popped out. "I can't wait to spend the weekend with you baby girl! Are you excited to have a little fun with grandma?!"

"Calm the fuck down, you're gonna kill her if you keep squeezing!" Katsuki's voice boomed out of the window.

"Oh pipe down you little shit I'm not harming her! Also don't talk to me like that! You're old enough to treat me with some respect by now!"

"SHUT UP YOU OLD HAG! JUST TAKE THE LITTLE GREMLIN AND GO!"

After the heated exchange, Katsuki eventually calmed down and drove the two of you back to the house in complete silence. It was quite a shift in a sense of environment wise. By now d/n would be begging you to make her some pudding or pour her a cup of lemonade, then place yourselves in front of the tv watching a random kids program till evening. Tonight you lend the torch to your boyfriend, allowing whatever devious plan he conjured up to unfold.

Before you could shuffle into your shared bedroom, Katsuki placed his calloused hands onto your cramped shoulders. Merely centimeters from your ear, he laid a chaste kiss on the area beneath it, smiling at your innocent reaction to his sudden actions and nuzzled into the crook of your neck. You smelt the familiar scent of caramel and men’s soap, both of which you undoubtably loved when combined.

“Suki?” Upon hearing his nickname, Katsuki quirked an eyebrow at you. “What’s with all the romantic gestures lately? Cooking my favorite breakfast, the flowers, and our daughter. Don’t get me wrong, I love her! It’s just nice not to worry about if she’ll set the curtains on fire again.”

You felt the vibrations of him chuckling behind you.

“Isn’t it obvious? I just want to fuck the shit out of you,” you sat paralyzed by his bluntness. his tuft hair tickled the underside of your chin, earning him an acute giggle from you. “I’m just kidding, pretty face. I figured you needed a weekend where you just relax and did nothing. Let me do all the work. That’s including getting rid of the brat.”

Shifting in his arms to where you can face him, you can now see the adoration oozing from usual heated glare of his vermillion eyes, the scowl long gone and replaced with a soften feature not so many from the outside can witness. To think this was the man you devoted yourself and love for, to allow him to bare witness anything and everything you endure. He’s a man of showing his compassion through his actions, not lousy words of affirmations that anyone could sputter out and proclaim its love. No, he reflects back everything right with the world, even when you felt the weight of it searing through your system, dragging it down with you. The same explosive blonde awaits patiently by the opening for you to enter, no matter how long it’ll take for you to accept his love. Because he’ll be there. Waiting.

And here he is waiting. In your arms to repeat those three words you made out from watching the movement of his lips.

The words leave your mouth effortlessly, the proclamation hanging in the air between you two.

“I love you too, Katsuki. Thank you so much, for everything.” Like so, you kiss the plump flesh of his lips, the same inflammation of your heart burning as before. The strong muscle of his tongue prods your entrance, practically begging by licking your bottom lip. Katsuki grabbed your chin as gentle as he could muster, titling it for a better leverage to explore your mouth in return. Your hands trailed across the defining shape of his collarbones, rubbing any part of his body so that your fingers remained busy. Both of you hum in satisfaction, relishing in the feeling of the intimate moment. To your disliking, he removes his lips from yours and hovers instead, panting from the mini-make out session seconds ago.

“I’m going to marry you some day, mark my words. So don’t act fucking stupid when I pop the question,” he hotly proclaims, not once removing those piercing red eyes from yours. That’s when you knew he wasn’t bullshitting. If there’s one thing you learned about Katsuki over the years of dating, is that he doesn’t throw out promises in the air nonchalantly without keeping them. You can vaguely hear the ominous sound of wedding bells in your ears.

“Sounds intriguing. I always wanted to see you in a suit and tie.”

“Ya know, maybe someday might be tomorrow-.”

You cut him off with a scorching peck, making his eyes widen and dilate with every given second you laid your lips onto his. “Shut up babe and ravish me already.”

A mischievous grin forms on his mouth as he links his arms around the back of your knees and hoists you over his shoulder. He erupted into fits of laughter after hearing you squeak from the abruptness. The door to your shared bedroom came into view, your boyfriend kicking it with his free foot before entering through the threshold.

“You’re in for a long night sweetheart. Now that our daughter isn’t here, I’m not holding back on anything,” he threatens as he lays you down on the comforter.

Another thing you learned from your relationship. Katsuki is always true to his word.

#mha imagines #bakugou headcanons #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x you #mha x reader #bakugou imagine #bakugou fluff #dad!baku #bakugou smut #kacchan #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsukibakugou #bnha katsuki x reader

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theinvisibledreamergirl · 3 years

Text

She’s thunderstorms

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Helena Craig) x M!OC (Clay Banner)

Words count: 2.5 k

Warning: 🔞 content/Language

Category: Angst/AU

A.N: Part two of A Triangle of Love Series. Events after the Sweet dreams, TN fic. Helen is the alter ego of Klaw Craig. Feel free to judge me because now that I’m re-reading it… it’s bullshit and I don’t know what to call this. Especially the song it’s not fitting duhhh. Going to log off after posting it. *sighs*

Song: “She’s thunderstorms” - Arctic Monkeys

MASTERLIST

———————————————————————

She’s thunderstorms

Lying on her front, up against the wall

She’s thunderstorms

Bryce Lahela was right.

She’s like a goddess that entered to this building and blessed my life when I made eye contact with her.

Indeed a blessing.

She was the most incredible woman and everyone would take a bow just for her hand and fulfill all the wishes she wanted.

He couldn’t feel his breath in that short moment when they exchanged looks. Did someone pause his heart and his body? Because surely he had multiple questions as his mind drifted into thoughts.

When did she come here? How did she find him? Where did she work before coming here? Is she alone? But if not, who was with her? The hair colour and style had changed too. From the straight dark brown with bangs had gone into long, wavy light ash blonde hair that seemed to make her a different person.

But her face was still like he left it. Her arched brows that made her confident; captivating eyes with determination; full and inviting lips that always gave him chills when she crooked them into a playful smirk; her strong and beautiful jaw that tilted whenever he teased her or touched with such delicacy that made her gasp into pleasure; her long neck… without his necklace. He almost scoffed. Of course she had taken it off. What was he expecting?

Their bodies pining in the wall in ecstasy and hearing her sounds...

I’ve been feeling foolish, you should try it

She came and substituted the peace and quiet for

Acrobatic blood, flow concertina

Cheating heartbeat, rapid fire

Everything.

He wanted to do everything.

Anytime and anywhere.

With her and only her.

When he saw her hand shaking with another one... he felt a pit into his stomach and a familiar feeling came into his brain.

Mine.

She’s thunderstorms

Lying on her front, up against the wall

She’s thunderstorms

Here is your host, sounds as if she’s pretty close

When the heat starts growing horns

She’s thunderstorms

That greatly but destructive feeling called jealousy was in his veins. He wanted to reach out and twirl her around and to whisper to her:

I’m sorry and I really missed you.

Instead he came with slow and confident steps as if his imagination vanished quickly without so noticing and a small professional smile appeared in his face and she seemed to understand it. One more reason why he loves her.

“Ah Clay here you are,” Simon spoke breaking his trip of memory lane. “I want to present you Dr. Helena Craig the surgeon who’s going to replace Edgar for a while. Helen this is Dr. Clay Banner our future cardiothoracic surgeon.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Dr. Banner… I have heard a lot about you.” It seemed like a lifetime since he had heard her angelic voice that was a symphony in his ears. He held his tears from falling and coughed to fight the strangle voice that was about to let out.

“A pleasure to meet you too Dr. Craig and I can say the same thing about you.”

Something inside of Helen was igniting.

Her flame.

That old flame which burnt her into many pieces and toyed with her body all of those times sharing with him. She couldn’t say that she didn’t miss him. The real him. The one she fell in love with. His adoring face, his soft hands, his broad shoulders where she leaned on and his assuring voice when she felt insecure.

She had mastered perfectly the art of acting and pretending to be satisfied with everything in her life. Little did those people in the room know how her heart was aching miserably and was shattering from disappointment and hurt from the very same man that was just two feet away.

But a baritone and irritating voice seemed to cut off all of that momentary darkness which in fact she thanked him in silence. “Done with the introductions? Great. We’ve got work to do.” Ethan turned his back and started to write in the whiteboard. “The patient is from Manhattan Presbyterian…”

While Ethan was explaining the symptoms, Helen held a transfixed face to all of the theories of her attending and unexpectedly to other colleagues, she started to ask questions which resulted helpful despite being a surgeon. Sometimes she shared thoughts with Clay and even agreeing with them. It was part of the job after all and Clay couldn’t help but feel proud for his woman.

Correction: his ex.

A past tense that he had to learn from now on. But deep inside of him there was a spark of hope that maybe… maybe things would get back to normal. And maybe she would forgive him.

The team was finally dismissed but only two people stayed. Ethan called Helen before she would leave and that made Clay’s blood boiled because all he wanted was to talk to her right after this meeting. He had to try one last card even though it was useless.

“Dr. Ramsey can we talk for a moment?”

“Is there anything wrong Dr. Banner?”

“No j-just,” he stuttered. “Q-questions about the team in general.”

“We will but after I finish a discussion with Dr. Craig if you don’t mind.”

Fuck you.

“Not at all Sir.” He closed the door reluctantly and sighed in defeat.

“What’s the matter Dr. Ramsey?” She asked although she knew damn well why he had called her.

“What are you doing here?” Ethan clasped his fingers as if to stop whatever his mind was blowing now. His ears were still echoing with her words whispering softly.

Thank you for the distraction. I really needed it.

“Starting my job,” she said innocently and shrugged. “Is it irrelevant?”

“Yes, it is,” he nodded and his feet was carrying him over her; something inevitable that no matter what, he couldn’t stop. “I don’t think all of this is a coincidence.”

“Well lucky for you now you’ll have the most trustworthy person in your team that won’t let you down.”

He scoffed while shaking his head. “I highly doubt your confidence.”

“Just wait and see.”

I’ve already seen you.

After their encounter last night Ethan couldn’t sleep. Many times of trying to change and find the perfect position led to nothing but drinking in the balcony that even his dog Jenner didn’t like it and cooed sadly to his owner. What was this woman doing to him? Why he felt so weak in front of her that immediately wanted to bend her over to his desk and scream his name?

“So,” she crossed her arms behind her waist. “How was I?”

He frowned in confusion and god she thought to herself why he had to be such handsome even in that moment. “Hm?”

“In making you feel surprised.”

“Ah that. Well you’ve clearly exceeded my expectations.”

“Wow. So I rendered you speechless then.”

Giggles were ringing in the walls and for the first time in a while Ethan Ramsey smiled at that. It was something so natural that came from her as other people didn’t get his dry humour but she... she was different. It was like a magnet that more and more you get closer, the more attached you become to her.

She’s been loop-the-looping around my mind

Her motorcycle boots give me this kind of

Acrobatic blood, concertina

Cheating heartbeat, rapid fire

He cleared his throat in purpose of changing the subject. “The reason why I called you,” he put his hand in his front pocket to reveal a tiny and shining object that seemed familiar to her. “Does this belong to you?

“Oh my god yes! This is my earring!” Helen exclaimed shockingly while grazing it with her thumb. Apparently had slipped when she whispered in his ear. “I was looking it all over my room but I couldn’t find it anywhere.” Her gaze now was turned back to him in gratefulness. “Thank you.”

Without thinking she closed their distance by enveloping him into a hug. This caught Ethan off guard but now he returned the hug back and closed his eyes while inhaling her perfume. She did the same too and in that moment both of them felt safe on each other’s arms as if they knew where they belonged. The world around them didn’t exist for a few seconds and both of them despite not saying out loud, they wanted to continue it.

She’s thunderstorms

Lying on her front, up against the wall

She’s thunderstorms

“It’s nothing.” He smiled politely when they separated.

“No this is not nothing. I owe you because this earring was really special to me.” She inhaled slowly while considering an option. Taking some risk wouldn’t hurt her? Right? “What do you say uhm- a drink? In this case I can apologise for yesterday’s… thing.”

“You have nothing to apologise for.”

“Sure I have, because to be completely honest Dr. Ramsey… I knew who you were.”

And here he thought that she was just another stranger that thankfully didn’t know him. Now he was feeling raged and betrayed because that meant she wanted to impress him only by her appearance and make a spot here on his team. His authoritative voice came back as if to maintain the last straw of himself.

“You did know who were you talking to?”

“Yeah I did. Now I’m speaking to my attending,” she moved tantalising and confidently just like yesterday. “To my colleague. And,” then tilted her chin while saying. “To a possible friend.”

“For the latter dream on.” He warned her.

She laughed heartedly. “We’ll meet at Donahue’s at 9 PM sharply and don’t be late because I can’t wait more than two minutes.”

His eyebrows narrowed incredulously and crossed his arms to his chest. “I don’t remember accepting your offer. And besides… how do you know my agenda? What if I’m busy?”

“Well I don’t remember taking a no answer from you and I’ve got my sources about your special agenda.” She shrugged innocently. “See you tonight doctor.”

The door was closed but not before throwing a playful wink to him. He let out a laugh while shaking his head in disbelief. This woman was really crazy but it was one of a kind and Ethan Ramsey couldn’t wait to know more about her.

——————————————

Helen wasn’t surprised to see him waiting impatiently in the corner while she was talking with Dr. Ramsey.

What was so important that took them this long? He thought.

Actually that was only five minutes but to him it seemed like five hours already. When she got out he couldn’t help but stare at her not knowing where to start first.

“Helen.”

“Dr. Banner,” the plastered smile didn’t leave her face despite being furious and ready to wipe his ass in front of everyone. “You can go now to Dr. Ramsey. He’s free.”

“Actually, can we talk?” She rolled her eyes. “I won’t make you wait too much. I promise.”

Helen whispered only for the two of them to hear. “You and your promises,” a tackle of her tongue was heard twice. “Aren’t in coherence. I don’t know why should I listen to you. Let me guess- I’m sorry my Helen but I had to step in you to gain my spot here in Edenbrook thanks to my parents who are very powerful and influential people in Boston.”

“I-”

“I’m not finished,” her hardened gaze was evident and he knew he had to stop. “Or how you accepted without so much caring not one but two strange women in your bed while you were fucking drunk. That must’ve been a fruitful threesome huh? Why didn’t you try with a boy too? That would’ve been the cherry on top.” Her words were poisonous and she thought he deserved much worse than these. “Or how your mother has always tried to make me feel miserable in front of everyone when you did absolutely nothing to stop it. Not even moving your finger.”

In an unusual place, when you’re feeling far away

She does what the night does to the day

She was right about everything. He couldn’t disagree with any of the words she said. Helen Craig was rarely found to be wrong.

“I think that our conversation ends here Dr. Banner.”

He grabbed her elbow without thinking twice for his recklessness and made her narrow her eyes in annoyance. “Tonight at Donahue’s bar 9 o’clock and I will explain you everything.”

“Get off me or I’ll scream.” She warned dangerously.

“We both know you can’t.” Clay had no idea where this was leading but he could see the fire into her eyes. “You wouldn’t want people to find out that you had a boyfriend working here huh?”

Look at this prick starting to talk.

“Well well do you need a reminder that my father and my brother can make you beg for your life again?”

The last encounter with the Craig males was one year ago when they found out that this jerk had dumped the most precious thing of their family. Patrick Craig was the first to reach for the drawer to load his gun just in case whereas Brian her brother made sure to find Clay’s location with his advanced knowledge of technology. The end resulted in a bloody and a harsh fight between them and warning the latter to not come any centimeter closer to Helen. And the scar on his neck was still visible after that time.

“That happened once. It can’t happen again,” he grasped her out of his hand. “I’ll be waiting.”

With that he left the ultimatum settled in her hands and keeping it until 9 PM. Helen stayed still like someone had glued her in a position that she couldn’t escape.

She wouldn’t go.

No.

She wouldn’t hear him again and believe his words. But there was such a confidence in his voice that made her scared. Thanks to that she felt the anxiety rising up and panic for what was about to come.

She could easily cancel the plans with Dr. Ramsey and not go to that bar. But when she met him yesterday it felt something different with that share of eye contact.

Despite being half-drunk and exhausted from her flight he had made her forgetting all of her plans and the reason why she came in Boston. It was entirely a new world, a new dimension that she hadn’t explored yet and was eager to find more about this man.

It was unethical but did she care? Not in the slightest. Helen was ambitious and she definitely would possess it. She had to think of a plan how to sabotage this whole thing but how?

The choice she had to make was like a ticking bomb that in one way or another, was going to blast.

She’s thunderstorms

Lying on her front, up against the wall

She’s thunderstorms, thunderstorms, thunderstorms

—————————————————————-

TAGS WILL APPEAR IN A REBLOG!

#open heart #open heart choices #open heart fan fiction #open heart fan fic #my mc #or better the alter-ego of #klaw craig #——>#helena craig #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #clay banner #clay banner x mc #triangle of love series #part two

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badwithten · 3 years

Photo

〉yuta x fem!reader

〉word count 1.1k

〉warnings vaping, drinking

〉from my 500 follower event

〉for @fruityutas ok so i was excited to write this but then actually writing it i dont think i did a great job? the concept is better than the drabble tbh. i still would love to hear what you think of it though + im super excited to read yours if you’re still going to do a rockstar!yuta au

The wolf whistle thrown in your direction immediately made you tense up, with cautious eyes you turned to see who it was from. But right away you relaxed, releasing the tension as you were meet with the smile of your boyfriend.

“Don’t do that” You gave him a light punch in his shoulder, smiling regardless as he tugged you in for a hug. “You scared me”

“Sorry baby” He still holds onto you as you lean back, tugging on his arms to pull him forward. “I didn’t mean to” A soft kiss is placed on your nose before he gives you a light kiss on your lips, leaving you following him for more but he pulls away. Still holding onto one of your hands as he leads you out of campus and into town.

Your warm hands are a harsh contrast compared to his cold rings, in fact, your whole demeanour is the opposite of his. His bleached and shaved hair, ripped clothing, pierced and inked body. It was a tough look, one that often got him in trouble with his family or even got him a beating or two. Not that he didn’t love the attention. But you hated cleaning up his bloody lips and kissing his bruises.

But that didn’t change your love for him. He was soft to you, treating you like you were glass. People had warned against him, but after hearing his band play at a local bar, you were intrigued. Never once had he hurt you, broken your heart or made you cry. He was good to you.

You stayed by his side as you made your way to the familiar building of Taeils apartment. It wasn’t long till said member was opening the gates for you two to enter. Greeting you with his lovely smile and scream laugh as he always did.

“You made your boyfriend late again” He joked as he patted both of your shoulders but you could tell there was some realness behind it.

“I guess I’m more important than ‘Superhuman’ then, aren’t I?” You could see the pain through his smile as he opened the door into his apartment for you. Once again you were bombarded with smiles while you felt Yuta leave your side.

“Yo,” Mark called from the couch, a cloud of smoke blocking him from your sight.

“Mark” You smiled and joined him, the end of his guitar leaning over your lap. He flapped the vape away to give you a proper hello and you both discussed the latest lecture of your psyche class.

“Boring” But it didn’t last long as Johnny came and sat on the coffee table, across from the two of you. “Do you guys talk about anything else?”

“Damn someones a salty college drop out” Yuta was quick to defend you, nudging in between you and Mark despite the little room left on the couch. His cup was filled with some sort of vile liquid that you didn’t want to question but he downed it quickly. “Where is Sicheng anyway? I can’t believe I wasn’t the last to arrive”

“I know it’s a miracle. But if Sicheng doesn’t hurry up, I’m going to lose my mind. I cannot have Mark and Johnny in here any longer” Taeil was the last to join you four, taking his seat on a nearby beanbag.

“Hey, what is that supposed to me?” Johnny and Mark spoke almost in unison. It wasn’t long until the bickering started and reminded you of how special these boys are to you. It was never quiet around them, either one of their mouths was running off or the loud noises of their instruments creating music. But it was nice, you were able to sit comfortably in silence next to Yuta, playing with his picked fingers.

The conversation is interrupted as a flushed Sicheng finally busts into the cramped apartment, out of breath and hair a mess. He struggles to hold papers and bags in his hand as he walks in and dumps them on the nearest surface. He’s quick to get a telling off from Taeil, which you don’t know if he deserves considering the state of the rest of his apartment. But Sicheng quickly brings the attention back to something more important.

“But guys! It arrived today, he finished it, on time surprisingly ”

“I’m glad something was on time today” Yuta groans as he stands up to look at whatever Sicheng is talking about. You join, still attached by the hand. You can’t tell what it is, a large disk wrapped in newspaper, but the boys seem excited.

“Let’s put it on before we start” Johnny suggests as you all make it down the hall into the room Taeil had dedicated for practice. A large set up of speakers, instruments and microphones decorated the room. A mess really, but it all felt correct and in place. You were quick to ditch Yuta and sit on the old Lazyboy in the corner. Watching as they all crowded around the drum kit. Sicheng had flipped it over and began unscrewing but your view was disrupted by Mark and his guitar still in hand. It wasn’t until they all stepped back and placed the drums in place that you saw what it was.

A new drum front, instead of the worn-down white of the previous one, had the bands logo and name printed on it. ‘Superhuman’, the paint dripping down, messy scribbles surrounding. But it was perfect. It represented them. This felt like the stepping stone to something bigger for them and you couldn’t help but be happy for them. Be happy for Yuta.

With new energy in their step, they all set up their equipment, Sicheng making himself comfortable behind the drums, Mark and Johnny tunning their guitar, Yuta plugging in his bass and Taeil setting up the microphone.

Their music shook the room, you were sure Taeil’s neighbours must have hated him. But his voice was heavenly, soft contrasts compared to their rough music. You couldn’t help but keep your eyes focused on Yuta. His beanie had been lost somewhere, hair sticking to his sweaty forward, tongue pushed out in concentration as he danced in place, swinging his body with his bass. You could feel their music in your chest, rocking your entire body with the message of it all. You knew one day they were going to blow up. Move out and stop recording songs in their friend’s apartment and instead, a proper studio. Perform at sold-out shows and not just local bars. And you were happy to know that you would still be by Yutas side at the end of it all.

#NCTmentary.net #unfortunatus: paradiso #nct #nct x reader #nct fluff #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct reactions #nct 127 #yuta #yuta nakamoto #yuta x reader #yuta imagines #yuta fluff

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years

Text

Weak ~ S.R. (part 1)

A/n: I’ve been catching up on the show so my thoughts have been all over the place- all of them about Reid lol. This is only one of three multipart song fics I have planned for him, but I promise I’ll finish your guys’ requests before full diving into them. I just needed to blow off some steam for him really fast. This is an old idea I’m bringing back because I liked the concept. It makes me laugh.

Warning

Word Count: 7700+

MASTERLIST

"No thank you" is what I should've said, I should be in bed. But temptations of trouble on my tongue, troubles yet to come. One sip, bad for me; one hit, bad for me; one kiss, bad for me... but I give in so easily.

Everyone has that thing they look back on and cringe at. That childhood memory that keeps you awake at night. That one thing you did in high school that ruined your reputation until you moved on to college. Things that come back every once in a while and make you cringe and wonder what on God's good Earth possessed you to do THAT. Even if you didn't have anxiety, it happened to everyone.

Or, at least Y/n convinced herself that was the case.

It had just been one of those things. One of those things that haunted her every time she got down time or saw someone who looked like... like... him. When anything reminded her of him and she remembered that god awful act of idiocy she had committed. Because it had just been her immaturity. Her young age and lack of experience. It had been a lapse in judgment. It had been a moment of stupidity and she would never, NEVER do anything like it ever again because she was older and wiser now. She was a different person now.

What had she done you ask?

Y/n had always been interested in the psychology of twisted people. She watched the news and wondered how one went about solving crimes like that. Especially really terrible ones like serial killers. How did you make a career out of getting into the minds of truly demented people and not be darkened by it? Or was that why the head of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, Aaron Hotchner, never smiled?

It all started with that fascination. She had been nineteen years old and a barista at a coffee shop, dreaming of being a real life super hero who saved lives and made the world a little more safe with every bad person put behind bars or under the ground. It didn't matter which to her at the time- they were bad people. They killed and raped and tortured and destroyed- why would they deserve anything but death anyway?

One day a boy came in. Maybe two or three years older than her, max. He was cute and tired and quiet. He came, he waited in line, he got his coffee, he left. He was completely oblivious to Y/n as she tried to talk to him. Flirt with him. Like a normal person talking to another normal person. But god she was really anxious and awkward and he seemed to look right through her and it made her voice die every time she tried. She couldn't even call his name when she was finished making his coffee. Her infatuation was obvious to everyone else. Another employee had written her number on the cup to help her out but he'd either never seen it or had ignored it because he had never used it. Even when he stopped coming, she still remembered him. She remembered his face and his name and his coffee order. She started to get it herself, holding onto the one part of him she had. It was a little weird, but she had nothing else other than that damn coffee order and she was taken by him. What else was she going to do? It was innocent.

Then she'd seen his face on the news. Spencer Reid of the FBI, part of the BAU. The boy she had been thinking about for months was suddenly part of the team she'd dreamed of being apart of for years? Her two obsessions aligned in one perfect moment and something... clicked. She was watching the news for a whole different reason now.

She didn't know when it had escalated past that. When she had taken that next step that would be something so unforgivable she would hate herself for years afterward.

Every morning on her way to work, she passed by The Place. Where he was, with his team, catching bad guys and making the world safer just like she wanted to. She wondered what he was like. How he had gotten on the team so young. She wondered how someone so quiet and seemingly oblivious could make it in a job like that. She wondered what his relationships were like. Were they friends or just coworkers? Did he still like his coffee the same way? What did his voice sound like? His laugh?

Suddenly she was across the street on her day off, looking at the building that held all the things she wanted most, imaging walking in and out of those doors. Imagining so long that she watched the team walk right out. They seemed familiar with each other, but each person held a rather grim expression. Her mind wiped of any other thought when she saw him. He was wearing a long sleeve button up, sleeves rolled above his elbows. A vest and a tie accompanied it. His hair was gelled back, glasses in his hands. He seemed to be lost in thought, his lips pressed together tightly.

When the thought to follow him crossed her mind, she went home. It was a dark thought that lead to dangerous places. She didn't recognize where this path was taking her, she just knew that whatever was happening to her, following someone home and learning where they lived without them knowing about it was crossing a line she couldn't be okay with.

Apparently, the same understanding didn't carry to taking pictures.

She had two whole shoe boxes of Polaroid pictures before she did anything else. She never looked at them after she shoved them in the boxes and pushed them under her bed; she just smiled at the boxes and remembered the times she'd watched him walk in and out of those doors and had taken one picture each time to commemorate the moment.

A year. She watched him for a year, following behind him on local cases, other work events, or even family and friends stuff. She did cross that line, but never once did she follow him home. Later in life when she burned those pictures, she tried to hold onto that. She never followed him home. She did however, send him a gift. She thought maybe if she could reach out to him somehow and start a sort of exchange, then maybe she could transition into actually being apart of his life. And that's all she really wanted. She wanted to shake his hand and have them make eye contact. He wanted him to see her.

There was a note, with just a simple "hello" on a single piece of paper, attached to a small bag of sour skittles. They were his favorite candy- but she only knew that because every time he came into work with some, he smiled a little wider. She knew it because she'd seen his friends give him them as a gift for Christmas. They made him happy.

When he saw the candy, he looked confused. When he read the note, he looked terrified.

Y/n didn't try to contact him again.

Something about the look on his face shook her to her core. Hadn't it been innocent enough? He couldn't know she had been getting to know him from her far away place. It was just candy and a note. It should have just been a shy person reaching out a call for friendship.

Then it hit her.

She knew which car was his. She knew his favorite candy. Those were things you didn't just know randomly. If she had been a casual admirer or had just had a crush on him, perhaps sending a flower to him at work would have been more low key. But she had wanted to give him something personal and she had. But she shouldn't have been able to.

The only reason she could was because she had stalked him.

She was a stalker.

It was never a word that had even crossed her mind until that exact moment, but once it came it wouldn't leave. That's what she was after all. She watched the news that day. Spencer wasn't there, but there was a story about a stalker in another state. She'd skimmed her usual spots on the internet to catch up on busted cases all over the country, like she usually did. A stalker who had killed five women in the expanse of a year. A year.

She had been stalking Spencer for just over a year. She had given him the gift on the anniversary of the day she had first seen him on the news. When things had clicked for her and she'd had that weird feeling like they were fated to be together. She had seen his fear and she had read that article and then all she could think about were her hands covered in blood. His blood. She imagined a future where she was in prison for life because she had crossed too many lines and had ended up on the wrong side of the future she'd always dreamed of. She wasn't protecting people and making the world better. She was making it worse, just by existing. Just like all of those people she had so easily dismissed and loathed, she deserved to die.

But that hadn't happened yet. She could still save herself from that future, because she had never followed him home. She let work distract her and her pictures and little tidbits of knowledge would be enough for her. Because her imagination, for whatever reason, could fuel her better than reality and she knew it because in the back of her mind somewhere, she'd known from thew beginning what his reaction would be if she ever exposed herself to him for real. She had knows what he would do when he saw that candy before she'd seen him do it, because she had been studying the minds of criminals for years now and she knew the mindset of the victims just as well. She might not be stupid, but she might be crazy.

Y/n full stopped it. She burned a photo every time she thought about him. She'd been wondering how to wean herself off of not ever seeing Spencer Reid again, from seeing him nearly every other day. This was her compromise. Every time she missed him, she pulled out those shoe boxes and she pulled out a picture and she looked at it a few minutes as the fire warmed before she threw it in and put the shoe boxes back under her bead. The only reason she didn't burn the photos all in one go was because she was afraid that if she didn't have something else, she might snap and go back to the real person. And she couldn't do that. What she had done was wrong and she was never, EVER going down that path again. She wouldn't be a villain.

It was a hard turn of events. It was like... withdraw. When she finished off the first shoe box, she cried. She felt insane and unstable and dangerously depressed. So, she got into therapy. The first session she told the therapist everything, stressing that she hadn't technically done anything too wrong and that she wanted to never do it again and that she needed help not getting there again. She was beyond relieved when the therapist - Michael Lyran - took pity on her and agreed to help her rather than turn her into the police. He said that she was seeking help and had realized what she'd done was wrong, so there was hope for her. He wouldn't give up on her.

Within a few months, she was a lot better. Y/n and Michael met up on the year anniversary of when she'd stopped stalking him. The second year anniversary of when she'd started in the first place. They burned the second box of photos together. She hadn't touched it since finishing off the first box. Until now. At the very least, Michael never looked at any of the pictures and neither did Y/n. He knew who they would contain, and he didn't feel comfortable peering into someone's personal lives at possibly very personal or vulnerable moments. He didn't want to tempt Y/n to do so either.

At the end of it all, what mattered was that it was over. Y/n was a lot more confident and understood her emotions a lot better. She said goodbye to Michael and she moved states, far enough that when she got a job as the police force secretary, she was sure she'd be able to follow her childhood dream without ever having to cross paths with the man who's life she'd almost ruined. She hadn't gained the confidence yet to actually join the force - she still felt unworthy after her escapade - but she was also making some sort of difference. Her skills of focus and determination and precision came in handy when she needed to keep names, dates, and appointments all in order in a limited space. She became a valued member of society, and she was proud of who she was.

Then something terrible happened. There was a string of murders that was very clearly panning out to some kind of serial killer. Y/n didn't think anything of it past that. In situation like this when crime boosted, she had to be on her game and keep testimonies and such in order so that if anyone needed a file, it would be easy to navigate and immediately on hand for use. She mostly dealt with people panicking, which kept her busy with the serial killer. Something that had never really been a concern now had her so busy, she had no room for any other thoughts. She had to keep herself calm and level headed and in control so she could reassure people in the most convincing way possible. Once again, she was succeeding in her work field.

It could have been anyone. Any other team could have come in. The FBI did not just have one team, surely. Someone else could have ended up there other than...

Y/n almost choked when she saw the doors open. Because there was none other than Spencer Reid, years after she'd finally gotten over him and fully moved on with her life. Right when she'd come to terms with her mistakes and had made a better name for herself. Right when she was getting good at her job and beginning to inch toward that childhood yearning, Spencer fucking Reid was in her town. In her police department.

And he was headed right for her.

And no thank you is how it should've gone- I should stay strong. But I'm weak, and what's wrong with that? Boy, oh boy I love it when I fall for that. I'm weak, and what's wrong with that? Boy, oh boy I love ya when I fall for that. I'm weak.

It was Aaron Hotchner who actually spoke to her, asking to see the police chief. Y/n had directed the team in the right direction, refusing to look at the man who she was dying to look at most.

His hair had grown longer. He wasn't wearing glasses anymore. It wasn't gelled back anymore either, and he had ditched the vests. When had he made so many changes? She didn't know, but god was she relieved. If he had come in that precinct looking the exact same as five years ago, or even close to it, she would have been sucked right back into the fantasy. Not that he wasn't cute now. But he wasn't the same person, and she could distance herself from him. And from that part of her that yearned to take him in. This wasn't her Spencer. God, he had NEVER been her anything. Anything but her almost-victim in her almost-villainhood.

Five years ago, she repeated several times in her mind. It had been five whole years since she'd first seen him and become obsessed. Three years of being completely Reid free. Of being a strictly good person who did normal, sane, healthy things. She wasn't going to chuck all her hard work now. She was a different person. A BETTER person.

Then he spoke and ruined the whole thing.

"Hey I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of the bathrooms." He was looking at her and she felt her throat close. Suddenly she was that nineteen year barista again. She didn't know how to move or talk or even look at him. She cowered under his gaze and he seemed to be taken aback by that.

All she could think about was that she'd heard his voice. After five whole years, she finally knew what his voice sounded like.

She ran away from him without answering his question. She ran outside and tried to remember how to breathe. Her brain was racing and her thoughts were muddy and her hands were shaking. Her head was suddenly crammed with a really ugly image of a person she'd worked very hard not to be. A person she could have become. Someone she avoided thinking about or remembering. She'd made it almost twenty full months not thinking about Spencer even once. About her past mistakes. A blessed twenty months of finally not hating herself, and he had waltzed in with that smile and spoke with a voice even more beautiful than she'd imagined and now she was losing her mind.

A thought hit her.

She wasn't panicking because she wanted to be closer to Spencer. She wasn't panicking because she felt those old cravings coming back. She wasn't panicking because her mind was trying to fill in all the gaps of knowledge she had now that it had been so many years. Not because that hunger from years ago was back, or even because she could feel exactly how far apart their bodies were. Not because she wanted to talk to him, or because she wanted to be near him, or because he had seen her finally after so long of wishing he would. He had looked at her and seen her and TALKED to her, which would have sent her over the moon five years ago.

No, Y/n's panic came from the thought that all of her past mistakes would follow her forever, ruining her life every time, no matter where she went or how much she'd recovered or how hard she had worked. Becoming obsessed with Agent Reid had cost her job. It was her fault- she was distracted and irritable and steadily becoming unbearable to have around as she felt worse and worse about what she was doing. She'd become unstable. Without her therapist, she might have ended up on the streets even after she gave up chasing after a man who deserved better than some creepy ass fly on the wall. If that happened again... she liked it here. She liked her job. She wanted to be a cop and help people. Be someone who could, in some way, make a difference in this really terrible world getting worse by the second because as time passed, everyone was getting even meaner, and that created even more sick and twisted and depraved villains. She wanted to be in that story, and if that one year of idiocy ruined it for her forever... what would she do then?

One conclusion came from this realization: No one could ever know about that year. No one other than her past therapist, who was no threat to her future and wanted her to be free of her mistakes as much as she did.

What came next was a plan.

First: She would not become friends with Spencer Reid or any of his associates. She would limit her contact with them, remaining distant and civil only. If even one of them got close and she slipped in any way, it would be game over and then things might really go south. She had given Spencer a gift that day, and that might be seen as some sort of threat or something. Anything. It could be bad and she couldn't take chances.

Second: She would not let herself take in any new information about Spencer Reid or any of his associates. She could easily get swallowed up in her work, and if there really was a serial killer running around out there, they'd need her to be on her game and make their job as easy as possible. She would refrain from talking to any of them about anything other than work. She didn't need anything that could set off her old habits again and send her back down that path.

Third: She would not think of him as Spencer Reid, someone she used to dream about, but as Agent Reid. She was going to put space between her and him as much as possible. He was high above her in almost every way- in importance; in intellect; in physical height. If she focused on that and treated as him as a teacher or parent or the president of the united states rather than some cute guy her age who was super smart and kind of interesting, or even a coworker who was at all within her reach, it would be much easier not to get involved.

She could do this.

Already feeling better, she smoothed her shirt, shook her head, took a deep breath and went back inside.

She could do this.

"How do you guys like your coffee?"

Already Y/n was struggling keeping her rules, but on hard cases she always brought the team working coffee to help boost them in the morning- a treat from her to thank them for what they did. Even if they'd already gotten themselves coffee, they were always eager to take the one she gave them as well so it had become a sort of tradition. A case without coffee brought in by Y/n like mana from Heaven in the hands of angel just didn't go as well. She felt it rude to potentially leave the BAU team without coffee though, so... here she was, asking some personal information like she'd told herself she wouldn't do.

This could slip though. It was just coffee, and it would only be a few times, and it was the least she could do after all they were doing to make her town safe. After all she'd done. This was a thank you gift, not for personal gain.

She'd asked Agent Morgan, so now she stood before him as he tilted his head curiously. "Why?"

"I..." She fiddled nervously with her fingers behind her back. "It's a surprise." He rose an eyebrow. "I'm going to use it to break into your mind and learn all your secrets." It had been meant to be a little snarky. Why else would she want his coffee order? But instead he laughed and she felt herself smile along. It was contagious.

The fact that he could find the strength enough to smile even after all he'd been through was admirable. But Y/n wasn't going to think about that.

Agent Morgan seemed to be just the person to ask. He told her all his teammate's orders as she listed off their names so they didn't forget anyone. There were quite a few of them, and Y/n would hate herself if she missed one. She thanked him and went to turn away. "Wait what about Reid?"

Y/n could have strangled herself right then and there. Why had she assumed she'd still know the order in the first place? It had been half a decade. It could have changed. Not to mention it looked suspicious as hell if she had walked in here already knowing it without having to ask anyone. Thank god she had never done anything bad- she was terrible at keeping secrets. "Of course!" She turned back, rolling her eyes at herself. "I'm such a dork." She handed the small piece of paper she'd been writing the orders on to him.

Which, again, was a mistake. She had written all of the other orders herself without hesitation. But she also knew that if she wrote down his order, she'd have it memorized AGAIN, and she couldn't let herself get even that close to him. He needed to stay as much a mystery to her as possible. One she didn't care about and didn't want to solve and would not even a little bit understand. Morgan seemed confused but then wrote it down. Y/n took it with a smile and then left, folding it in half and refusing to look at it.

In the local coffee shop, she rung the bell on the counter. The lady who ran the place - Mrs. Miyre - grinned upon seeing her. "Y/n!" The girl waved. "I've been expecting you with all these murders going around? They say it's a serial killer."

"I can't say too much, but it's a big case." Mrs. Miyre nodded.

"Who are you ordering for this morning?" Y/n told her the names of the cops on shift for the beginning of the day. More might come in later, but Agent Hotchner had made it clear he didn't want too many crowding the place, so only a part of the force was actually in the office. The others were watching the streets and searching for any more clues, or had the day off. When she began to list off the BAU members, Mrs. Miyre rose her eyebrows. "New recruits?"

"The FBI actually," Y/n sighed. The older woman looked surprise and she nodded. "Like I said- big case." She sighed. "I figured I'd throw them in too."

"You're such a sweetheart." Y/n blushed. "We'll have them in a few, darling. Wait here." Y/n nodded and took a seat at the bar. The door was propped open to let the cool morning air drift through the place and keep it from getting stuffy. This place had been amazingly refreshing after the congested city life Y/n was used to growing up in DC. It was easier to breathe up here. Lots of open space and a nearby wood to go camping at the drop of a hate anytime you wanted. Y/n gets lost in that for a moment. The feeling of the cool air and the moving air sliding against her skin and the soft sunlight and the clean air. She snaps out of it when Mrs. Miyre comes back with the coffee. She's got a few drink holders and it makes Y/n laugh. Together they take it all back to the car and Y/n drives back very carefully so none of it spills. Once there, she grabs one of the officers to help get all the drinks inside. Mrs. Miyre named all of the cups as usual and as Officer Leo - the one who helped her - and Y/n hand out the drinks, somehow she ends up with a certain Agent's coffee.

In her good mood, still relaxed from the nice drive and the nice morning and the nice coffee waiting for her when she was done, Reid approaches with her a small smile. "Having a good morning?"

Y/n tried to reel herself in. "I guess I shouldn't be, considering the murders and stuff."

He shrugs. "We're working hard. If we let it get to us, it'll mess us up one day." He speaks as if from experience and it makes Y/n frown. "Thank you. For the coffee," he adds when Y/n shoots him a confused look. She holds it out to him and he grabs it and their hands touch and a spark of electricity runs up her arm. The cup almost drops on the floor with how fast she rips her hand away.

Reid's smile dropping away is the last thing she sees before she gathers the cup holders and books it outside to throw them away.

But I'm weak, and what's wrong with that? Boy, oh boy I love ya when I fall for that. No thank you?

"Hey Y/n?"

She looked up from her work and tried not to groan when she saw S... Agent Reid in front of her. He'd been popping up quite a bit, and with them coming close to catching the killer, Y/n found herself eager for the end of this thing for all the wrong reasons. Of course she wanted the women of this town safe and the killer in jail, but she wanted the BAU unit to go home just as much. She was antsy for it. They hadn't yet though so she smiled at him politely and asked, "Yes, Agent?"

"It's Doctor, actually," he corrected softly. She almost laughed, her smile becoming more genuine. That seemed to encourage him. "I just wanted to... apologize."

"For what?"

"Making you uncomfortable." Y/n tried to hide her panic. "Don't stress about it." Ah, so she had failed to hide it. And had probably failed to hide her emotions every time she'd even thought about trying. "I'm a profiler, so I have a certain level of perception that... that's not my point." He shook his head, seeming a little flustered. Her eyebrows came together in confusion. "Every time I'm around you, you seem to get really anxious and-" He shrugged. "It happens a lot, but usually with babies and dogs and stuff. We call it the Spencer effect." He rolled his eyes, but Y/n could tell that at this point he was just rambling. "I wanted to apologize for whatever it was."

Y/n smiled softly. What a sweet man. "It's not your fault." Her voice was soft, with guilt rather than embarrassment. He'd probably felt bad about this for a while. Maybe since the first day of this whole thing if his perception skills were as great as reputation pronounced. And it was all her fault. Even years later she was still hurting him. "Please don't worry abut it."

He relaxed and she felt relief flood her. "Okay." His hands slipped into his pockets and they both grew silent. Suddenly they were just standing there, looking at each other. She remembered years ago when she'd drunk in every detail she could get. Close up, he was even more handsome and her stomach was filled with butterflies. Which... was a new feeling. She'd seen him work hard for days, stressing and pushing himself. His whole team did, but it was Spencer's care and effort that meant the most to her- probably for obvious reasons. He was as great as she'd imagined him to be, and there was something fulfilling about that. She hadn't wasted her time on someone who was secretly terrible. The person she'd looked up to wasn't an asshole in reality like some famous people, or even people of the past that buried all their mistakes and smiled in public, or even like some people in power now.

Despite all he'd gone through, he put himself entirely into each case. He never hesitated to. Never thought about how much it was going to hurt him in the end, because if he could save just one person this time then he would have won. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

And then she realized she was staring and she ripped her eyes away, looking at her hands instead. "I bet you're busy this morning."

"Yeah," he responded, but his voice sounded sort of strained and dry, like there was no moisture in his mouth. She turned and left and, to her surprise, she felt his eyes on her as she did so. What was going on?

Things like that kept happening. Agent Reid kept trying to approach her and talk to her. He waved to her as she passed, or smiled at her. Called her name to get her attention. She was so busy avoiding him and doing her work that she wasn't paying attention to much else.

One day they got a message that changed everything.

As she opened the office doors to prepare for everyone coming in soon, she couldn't help but notice the weird red stain on the carpet inside the place. Confused, she opened the doors and went inside. She dropped her coffee when she realized what it was.

THIS IS YOUR FAULT

In big, bright red colors that could only be spray paint inked into the carpet. She'd panicked, thinking the message was somehow for her before the obvious incorrectness of that settled in. What spooked her again was the fact that there had been no break in alerts, otherwise this place would be flooded with people, and everyone would be celebrating having caught the criminal of the day. But it was empty and dark and that sicko was still out there. He had somehow gotten in here, sprayed that, and gotten out again without anyone noticing him. Without setting off any alarms or even leaving the front door unlocked. Or... perhaps they had been and she hadn't noticed?

Y/n had opened this place up hundreds of time. It had taken them some time to trust her with the keys, but once they did, she came in early every morning and get things up and running and turned on so they'd be ready and everyone else could get a little more sleep, since she went home long before all of them did. It left her alone for nearly an hour usually - half an hour in this time of stress - but that seemed to be long enough.

A hand wrapped around her mouth and something cold and circular pressed to the back of her head. "Scream and I shoot you."

Her eyes went wide. "What-?"

"Speak and I shoot you," the person added, just as calmly. "Do you see that message over there?" She hesitated before nodding. "Don't worry sweetheart, it's not for you. It's for your little lapdogs that run this place. The ones that take you for advantage and ignore you while you bust your ass to be seen as good as them." Y/n's eyebrows came together. She was confused. "You're going to come with me. They'll see how much they need you once you're gone." And then Y/n felt the coldness pull away, just for something to hit her rather hard and everything to go instantly dark

Getting pistol whipped absolutely sucked, she decided as she blinked her eyes and tried to figure out where she was and what had happened.

It wasn't clear when she'd realized that's why her head hurt so badly, but perhaps it was a realization she'd made before she was completely unconscious, or one she'd made while the world had been lost to her. Whatever it had been, it was her first thought when she woke up again.

She was tied to a chair, that was her second thought. The room she was in didn't yield much else with how dark it was, but she could feel herself strapped to something, and she could also feel herself sitting, so you know. Easy conclusion.

"Aw, she's awake!" Y/n flinched at the sudden sound, but the recognized it as the voice of the person who'd taken her. The unsub, if basic logic could be trusted. "Hello, Sleeping Beauty."

"Hi," she mumbled, shaking her head softly in an attempt to clear it.

A laugh. "Oh I like you. You don't cower and scream like the others."

Y/n sighed. "I'm not afraid of you." She found she wasn't either. She'd dipped he toe in quite a few sick minds. She'd even tiptoed along the edges of being one herself. She'd seen what these people were capable of. She'd seen the pictures of those girls even. She knew what THIS sicko was capable of. But she also knew that they hadn't been tortured or raped, which left this person far from as bad as it got. She knew that the victims were treated quite nicely, with lots of remorse. All up until they died, where there were deep cuts all over the body. The thought had been that the stabbing replaced the rape, which Y/n was kind of okay with actually. Her capture would be less than pleasant and her death would be quick. If she was lucky then she'd be saved with as little trauma as possible.

Or maybe it was just shock.

"Oh you're not, are you?" The person stepped closer and it was that moment that Y/n realized a huge mistake of the profile they'd been going off until this moment.

The profile stated that it was a man, but the person standing in front of Y/n now was definitely a woman.

"Are you going to kill me?"

"Yes," the woman responded calmly.

"Are you going to torture or rape me before that?"

The woman hesitated. "I won't do anything you don't want me to."

Interesting. "What's your name?"

"Maya," she responded. Y/n nodded and continued asking her questions. She learned that Maya was a lesbian and hated men. Y/n couldn't help but think it was rather fair of her to do so, especially when Maya went on to explain just how terrible to her they had been. As many men were to lesbians. She talked about how badly they treated women and how she was tired of watching it. That caught Y/n's attention.

"Why kill women then?"

"To take them away from here." Maya glared at the opposite wall as she leaned against the one behind her. She'd obviously grown comfortable in the exchange. "If I kill men, all that happens is one will replace them. They will grow to hate women more when they realize who I am. I knew they were close, that's why I took you. You were always my goal." Y/n's eyes widen and Maya smiles wider. "You're so kind, and that leaves so much room for them to hurt you. You know, the way I cut up your body- it's only after you're dead, and it's only so they can't do anything to you when they get you back. Did you know that there are men out there that prefer their women dead? Who work in morgues just so they can have sex with them?" Y/n cringed, thinking about her cold, pale body rotting while some man-

"Oh god," she whispered.

"Precisely," Maya agreed.

Y/n shook her head. "You can't be mad at an entire group for what some of them do. Don't get me wrong, men generally suck. But it isn't just men- it's people in general. We as a species are selfish and close minded. In ever group, there's always those extremists who make a bad name for everyone else. I mean- think if cops started to judge lesbians based on what you do. Not all women who like women kill women to punish men. Which honestly is ridiculous if you ask me but-"

Maya grabbed Y/n's face so hard that Y/n's jaw began to hurt. "You defend those assholes? Really?"

Y/n glared. "Years ago I made mistakes. I hurt someone I cared about. You can't villainise men and then ignore the fact that EVERYONE does shit too. I mean, women rape and murder and stalk and abuse. Definitely not as much, but still." She scoffed. "I'm not even saying this to support men. Men DO suck. They're too pretty for their own good and often far too oblivious for everyone else's. But everyone has flaws. What do you gain by killing people? Like you said, more will take their place. What are you going to do, kill all nice women?"

"Yes," Maya growled. That moment, fear consumed Y/n as Maya leaned closer and all Y/n could see in the other woman's eyes was hate. "Fuck up evolution. Because what's happening if the tough people are getting wiped out because men won't pay attention to them. All these pushover women are having babies and raising their sons to be like their fathers and their daughters to be like them."

Y/n's expression hardened. "What about kids who don't end up like their parents?"

Maya slapped her. "We're done playing nice." Y/n looked back just in time to see Maya grab a knife and she felt her heart clench. As much fear as she definitely showed on her face, she refused to whimper or scream. "I promise," Maya cooed. "No one will hurt you ever again. I promise you." She stroked Y/n's face and the girl tied to the chair flinched away. The knife danced along Y/n's throat as Maya began to move behind her where she would have a better grip.

The door busted open just as Maya gripped Y/n's face. "Drop the knife!" Maya tilted Y/n's face back and all the bound girl could see was the face of her assailant and the roof above both of them. "DROP THE KNIFE!"

Y/n closed her eyes and Maya grinned.

Guns went off. Y/n screamed. When Maya's hand left her face, Y/n's head dropped and she kept her eyes close, flinching as the ringing in her ears stopped. Not from the gunshots, but from the sound of Maya's body hitting the floor. She knew that the only way she was getting out of here was if Maya was dead, but it had sounded so different than she'd imagined. She opened her eyes slowly to catch something at the edge of her vision. She looked over and locked eyes with Maya, who was dead but still smiling. Y/n finally screamed.

Hands on her shoulders. She tried to move away from them and looked over to see Spencer. "Hey," he cooed softly. His hands moved up to cup her face. His eyes were wide and warm and his smile was soft and comforting. "Hey Y/n." His thumb brushed her cheek and she felt herself melt into the soft touch. Maya was wrong. Maybe men did suck, but Spencer Reid was different. He would never do anything wrong to Y/n. Even if she did deserve it. Those thoughts were pushed away as Spencer moved his head to keep her looking at him as she almost looked back to Maya. "Hey, I'm right here. I'm here, okay?" She finally nodded and he seemed to relax. "I'm going to untie you now alright?" She nodded again and he moved his hands to do as he'd said he would. When she was free, he moved to her ankles. As he did so she leaned forward, resting her forehead on his shoulder. He froze a second and then moved more carefully as not to disturb her. When her ankles were free he paused. "I'm going to move now. Do you need help standing?" She shook her head and slowly stood to her feet. He stood quickly to help her. He was tall enough for her to step into him, covering her face and hiding in his shoulder. He paused before slowly looping his arms around her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice soft and broken. "I just- I just really-" She caught her breath and seized up as she almost began crying. She wanted to apologize. She wanted him to hate her. She wanted to be alone... but she also didn't. She was terrified of all of the things she'd just been so sure a second ago she wanted. What she deserved. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Spencer soothed. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

She pulled away, shaking slightly. "Yes I do." She ducked around him and started walking out. They were in some kind of small cabin in the woods, but she just looked away from it and began walking.

"Wait, Y/n!" She looked over to see Emily Prentiss. Y/n began to walk faster. She really needed to be away from-

"Y/n stop." Hands on her shoulders and there was Derek Morgan, suddenly in front of her. "I know you probably want to be alone, but you have no idea where you are and you're in shock. Let one of us give you a ride back okay? You can talk about it or not talk, that's fine. But we can't let you wander out here alone hoping you find your way back, especially because we're miles away from town."

Relenting, Y/n nodded. "I just- don't put me with Spencer." She cringed as she used his name. "A- Agent Reid." She closed her eyes. Agent Derek went to say something. Maybe to ask her one of the probably many questions she had. She reached up though and covered his mouth. He leaned away, surprise, and she dropped her hand. "I- I'm sorry, I just-" Her eyes watered and she growled in rage, turning to pick up a rock and chuck it as hard as she could.

She had almost died.

She was still obsessed with Spencer, even though he deserved someone so much better. Even now, the feeling of his shoulder and the smell of him was filing into her head and she wanted to smile and scream and cry and curl in a ball and never move and she didn't know if it was from him or what Maya had said... or from what Maya almost done.

She crouched down, her chest beginning to constrict. "Y/n," Morgan said softly. She recognized his tone. The same one Reid had used before. Pity and concern. Trying to keep her calm. "I understand you're upset right now. I would be too. What you went through was really scary."

"I'm not a child," Y/n snapped.

"I know," Morgan assured. "But I need you to breathe for me okay? It'll help if you stand up and put your hands over your head... but if you want to sty like this, or even lie down that's okay too." Y/n hesitated before pushing to her feet, forcing her hands above her head. Morgan moved to his feet again as well, keeping to her level so she could always see him. After a second she felt something in her chest loosen and instead of panicking, she was crying. Morgan paused before opening his arms. She leaned into them and he hugged her as she cried. When she calmed and leaned away, he offered her a smile. "You want to get back now?" She nodded. "Come with me. Reid's in the other car." She nodded and followed him. He put his arm around her and she relaxed, rubbing her stuffy nose as he began to run. He slipped into the back with her, Hotchner was in the driver's seat. Neither man spoke until they got to the station. "Is there anyone you want us to call?"

"I don't..." She shrugged. "Have anyone."

Morgan's face grew sad. "Is there anything we can do for you? Take you home?"

Y/n thought about being alone in her empty apartment and shook her head. He nodded, understanding. "Can we just... sit here for a while?" He nodded again and they did. One by one the car filled with the others. Hotchner in the driver's seat, Rossi in the passenger. Prentiss took the seat next to Y/n, and Jureau stood at the door next to Prentiss, leaning rather than sitting. Y/n chuckled as Spencer joined the group, wiping her watery eyes. "Sorry to drag all of you guys into this car. Jesus."

A few chuckles. "It's okay," Jureau sighed.

"You know, you made this case a lot easier," Prentiss told Y/n quietly, reaching a hand to rub her back. "Getting us coffee and being so kind and encouraging. Sometimes when it gets too... when things get really dark, it's hard to concentrate because you're so stressed and worried and you feel so terrible that it clouds your head." Nods in agreement and Y/n smiled despite herself.

"You know." Jureau reached inside her jacket before extending a card. Y/n took it and looked at it. It had a number on it. "If you ever want to talk, that's my number. I'd like it if we stayed in touch."

Y/n smiled wider, even though her heart sunk a little. She finally had a friend...

"Thanks, Agent Jureau."

The woman laughed. "My friends call me JJ. You can too if you want." Y/n nodded.

Well. There went her plan to not to get close to Spencer Reid or any of his associates.

Shit.

#spencer reid #matthew grey gubler #criminal minds #x reader #imagine #spencer reader imagine #spencer reid x reader #female reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader

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fullsuuns · 4 years

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a fateful day in new york | l.jn

PAIRING: jeno x reader

GENRE: fluff

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

SYNOPSIS: jeno is the cute botanist that saves you from the rain.

SONG REC♫: pink lemonade - the wombats

he’s beautiful.

no — he’s radiant.

if not for the fact that he was a worker at the floral shop off the corner of main street — les fleurs du soleil — then definitely so when he catches you outside in the rainstorm in front of said shop and offers you shelter.

the rain is heavy; it’s a stream of endless pitter patters against the cracked pavement. you’re drenched; your hair is damp and your tan coat drips droplets of water. it’s cold in new york; the january air that had bitten at your skin had your cheeks growing red over time.

without an umbrella and waiting for the city bus in one of the busiest and most traffic-heavy corners in all of manhattan while it’s raining sure does have its perks despite the heavy burdens.

it comes in the form of a young man: soft black hair and kind, worried eyes when he asks you if you would like to come inside the flower shop. teeth-chattering, you nod, walking towards him with your arms around your shivering frame. he doesn’t seem to mind when water trails behind you, dripping onto the marble tiles as you step inside.

instead, he just opens the door wider for you.

the place sensitizes your smell almost instantly; the heaps of flowers serve to give a natural floral aroma around the place. pretty bouquets are on display everywhere, and there are potted plants hanging from the ceiling as decoration. there’s also music playing softly through the speakers; an indie song you’re unfamiliar with, but it’s pretty. you turn to the boy behind you. he’s taller, much taller than you expected him to be.

he gives you a smile. his eyes fold to create delicate crescents, and you swear you have to stop your own breath from hitching. he’s wearing an apron over a black dress shirt; a charming choice for his broad shoulders. you look down to see a pair of doc marten boots on his feet when you hear heavier-than-normal strides as he walks towards you.

“would you like a warm drink?” he asks, offering his hands out to take your coat. it takes you a minute to realize his gesture. you shrug it off for him, and he sets it on the rack near the front entrance to dry off. you notice that he, too, smells of soft floral scent.

“what do you have?” now coatless, you sit down on the stool he provides for you next to the check-out counter. the song selection changes and your ears perk when you hear the familiar tune of pink lemonade. you hum, “i love this song.”

“i can make you some tea, or coffee, or can just get you some water if you’d like,” he suggests, pulling out a small plastic box with what you think are floral tea samples. “and really? i didn’t think many people knew of the wombats - they’re one of my favorite bands, actually.”

“mine too.” you say shyly, smiling at him despite your slightly shivering form. “and i’ll take jasmine,” you spare a moment to look for the name tag on his apron. “jeno. wow, unique name. don’t think i’ve ever met a jeno before.”

he laughs at your words — a warm, deep laugh from within his chest that makes your heart stammer momentarily. picking up a teabag, he sets the box of samples aside. “it’s actually not that common in korea, either. i’ve never met someone with the same name as me when i’ve visited.”

you hum an understanding. he pulls out a mug and a tea kettle from under the counter — previously heated up water, you assume. steam climbs out of the surface as he pours water into the mug, the heat almost grounding as it contrasts against the cold wetness of outside. the stream of water is a calming sound under the soft indie music, and there’s a tranquil smile on jeno’s lips as he speaks, “hope you don’t think this is weird, i made tea myself before you came in.”

shaking your head, you say, “no, no. i get it.”

there’s a calming presence that comes from him. his hands are structured, strong despite his soft features. you can see this when he opens a packet and places the teabag into the mug and pushes it towards you. “it’s still hot, so be careful.”

you thank him, bringing the mug up to blow into it. the smell of jasmine hits your nose; the scent of it is ever so familiar. jeno brings his own mug to his lips, tilting his head back and exposing his bobbing adam’s apple as he takes the last gulp of what’s left in his cup.

a metaphorical lightbulb goes off in your head.

“how do you like new york?” you ask, hoping your question can keep your conversation with the beautiful stranger — well, jeno now — going.

he licks his lips, and you hope he doesn’t notice the way your eyes drift down to catch his tongue prodding at his bottom lip before he answers you.

“well, it’s big - for one thing. the people here are nice, though they always seem to be in a rush,” you nod at his words, knowing exactly what he means. “i like being able to live out my dream here - and i like the part time job i have as well.”

“dream?” you inquire. the song that’s playing ends, switching to one you’ve never heard all while you take a sip from your mug. the jasmine tea hits the back of your throat - it’s warm, and comforting, and heats you up almost instantly. “you seem to have good taste in music, by the way.”

“oh, it’s nothing much, just my spotify playlist,” he chuckles, the light airy laugh almost music to your ears. “and yeah, dream. uh - i major in film and minor in photography at nyu.”

your eyes widen. “wow, nyu? i’m a student there too.”

he laughs again; you’re sure the vibrant sound never gets old. his voice muses when he asks, “really?”

nodding and unsure of what to say next, you both settle for a comfortable silence for a few minutes as you bask in the warmth of your jasmine tea. when you do meet jeno’s eyes, they’re expressive — a kind doe look that contrasts his aura greatly for sure; they also serve to make you shyly look away each time.

by now, you’ve realized that the rain against the reflective glass has stopped. turning your head to peer out the window, you’re surprised to see sunlight hitting the pavement, a telltale of how quickly new york’s weather could change.

still looking out the window, you ask, “hey, jeno, what time is it?”

you turn back in time to see jeno pulling out his phone from the pocket of his apron.

“3:42. have somewhere to be?”

at this, you know you have approximately three or so minutes to make it out to the bus stop at the corner of main street — if you don’t want to miss your ride home, that is.

you nod, albeit a little disheartened since you know you have to part ways with the cute botanist. still, ever charming jeno smiles at you and nods an understanding.

your eyes dart everywhere for something to write with (you want to laugh at the sheer irony that you find one of those pens with a flower attached to the top of it next to the cash register). digging into your pocket, you pull out one of the crinkled stray receipts you had. your handwriting is rushed with the little time you’re given: a mess of scribbles as you write down your name and phone number.

“it’s been a while since i’ve written down my phone number on a piece of paper like this for someone,” you say, a hearty giggle escaping you, “but call me sometime and we can, i don’t know, grab coffee? when it’s not raining, of course.”

you slide the paper over to him, stepping off the stool to rush over to the coat rack. your coat is drier now, both coldness and warmth hitting your figure at once when you put it on and pull your hair out.

“sure,” jeno agrees, looking down at the receipt once. he smiles, “. . .y/n - cute name.”

hearing him say it almost makes nervous butterflies flutter in your stomach, but you push those down in favor of giving him one last smile as you walk towards the exit.

you can hear the jingle of the door intermix with the music still playing inside as you push it open. you wave your hand towards the dazzling raven, voice calling out behind you just before you can step outside and run towards the bus stop, “great! it’s a date!”

#jeno drabbles #jeno fluff #jeno scenarios #jeno x reader #jeno imagines #lee jeno scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct dream x reader #nct dream fluff #nct dream drabbles #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct blurbs #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct dream imagines

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makbarnes · 3 years

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Chapter 3

Sad Song

You woke in alone in your room and felt like you couldn’t move for what felt like hours. Hearing someone talking through the wall the voice sounded familiar but you couldn’t place it. Your mind was gone and all you felt was sadness flush over your system. You kept tears from falling from your eyes as you tried to hide away from the memories that now clouded your mind. Moments on a battlefield as you choked what looked to be a strong soldier with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. The blood that covered your hand and his lifeless body at your feet. You felt some kind of attachment to him but could not place what exactly it was. Before you could gather yourself you were being dragged out from your bed by Bucky.

“Wake up before they come in here.” He dropped you in the center of the hard concrete floor and walked away. You stood up and growled slowly at him.

“I’m not scared of them.” Huffing out those words before you saw two men in suits appear in front of you. One of them kneeled in front of you and gripped your wrist.

“Oh darling, you should be. For I control your every thought, breath and your very purpose for living. What you don’t seem to understand is I am your new brain. I control you and you do whatever I want you to.” You spat in his direction before feeling a hard hand go across your face.

“I could turn you into dust. Nobody controls me, Bitch.” You stood up ready to throw this stranger on the ground when Bucky all of a sudden slammed you into the concrete wall.

“You can’t hurt me. He’s trained to protect me at all costs, and soon you will be too.” He quickly left the room and you snarled towards Bucky wanting to rip out his voice box for slamming you into the wall.

“What the fuck was that Buck?” You shoved him out of your way and huffed off into your room. Bucky came chasing after you right as you blasted a purple orb into the concrete wall, leaving a dent. Your purple stone was glowing from your anger as you cried into your hands.

“This shouldn’t be my fucking life. I need to be out there with Steve and Tony and Natasha fighting people who want to control the world. Now I’ve been turned against all of them and I’m being used to battle them!” You looked up wincing at the sight of your new arm and leg. You noticed Bucky standing in your doorway looking as if he had seen a ghost.

“Steve....I know that name...the man from the bridge…HOW DO YOU KNOW STEVE ROGERS?!” Bucky gripped you by the shoulders in excitement. He had been wrestling with these thoughts since that event and had no idea.

“I work with him and the Avengers, we were on a mission to rescue you and I got hurt and captured. If I knew how long time had passed then I would know when we are getting out of this place.” Bucky gripped you tightly and you smiled noticing some relief showered over him, knowing that Steve was out there somewhere, hunting for him.

“Then we must get out of here...They can’t come here, if they get past the guards then they will use you and me against them and we won’t be able to stop until they are dead and bleeding at our feet.” Tears rose to your eyes and you turned into the wall, those weren’t nightmares you remember from this morning. They got you again, pushed that into your mind.

“Let’s escape. I don't know how yet but we will get out of here. I know all of the underground ways to get in touch with them.” You and Bucky shook hands and heard the door swing open to hit the wall. Seeing six guys in full black gear they shot you with a dart into your flesh arm and before your eyes closed you saw Bucky punching one of them in the face, making him fall to the ground lifeless.

(Soon After)

Back in the same room where you had demolished Bucky’s arm when you first got here. He stood in front of you, sadness filled his eyes as he darted towards you. This must be it, this is where he is going to kill you because HYDRA doesn’t think you are strong enough to be an ally for them. As you ducked and rolled out of Bucky's way you lit up your purple stone.

“Buck...I don’t want to hurt you. Snap out of it please!” You screamed before he pinned you to the ground, his hands were around your neck. You started to lose breath and hit him with a blast from your stone, hitting his face. He turned back to you filled with anger and blood dripped from the cut you had just given him. You looked around quickly and saw a group of people dressed in lab coats up in a little room watching you both. They were all writing things down on their clipboards and you saw Bucky coming up behind you. Flipping him over your body you heard loud clapping from the room up above you two. Thinking quickly you closed your eyes and began to focus up on the room. Being interrupted by Bucky slamming your head into the concrete floor you rolled over onto your back and kicked yourself to a standing position. You turned around and propelled Bucky into the back wall. WIthout hesitation you focused on the upper room again and all of a sudden you were standing in the middle of the room. You could see Bucky looking around the room below for you and you stayed silent. Sneaking up behind the one guard you threw him into the glass, shattering it. All of the scientists turned to you in horror.

“If ANY of you move an inch I will snap my fingers and turn you into dust.” You glared around the room and saw one person reaching for a red switch on the wall. Snapping your fingers he disintegrated into dust covering the floor.

“I dare you.” You were lost in what to do now, you had no plan and just looked at everyone with anger about everything they had done to you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw a black and white video of Steve flickering on an old computer. Your breath was caught in your throat and you approached the screen. Grazing the picture with your fingers you went dark. A scientist had snuck up behind you and injected you with a tranquilizer like before. You felt yourself being moved and laid against something cold and wet. Your eyes flickered open and you were bound to a black mat laying in the center of the floor. Hearing loud boots nearing, you struggled to get out, something was working against your powers and you couldn’t escape.

“That was quite a stunt you pulled in there, My Dear.” The man had an accent to his voice, like Bucky’s. Seeing Bucky standing behind him you jerked your shoulder to go to him. THe blood was still fresh from where you hit him with your power and you felt sick to your stomach because of it.

“Învață O lecție, dar nu o omori” (Teach her a lesson, but dont kill her) The man stepped away into the corner and Bucky leaned over you. Bucky brought his foot up and slammed it into your stomach. Crying out in pain he continued hitting your stomach and switching your face. Several blows hit your cheek and mouth. You felt your blood pouring out of you and knew he was being controlled to do this. No matter how much it hurt he was only being used to inflict the pain. You felt a pain come to your center and winced as BUcky continued to beat you. The man slowly walked out of the room and you wondered with this torture would end.

“Destul de soldat ... Șterge-l.” (Enough Solider, Erase him) Bucky stopped as he followed the man down the hallway. You laid there in unbearable pain and two guards carried you to your room. Throwing you down onto the concrete you rushed up to hit the door, screaming at them. You turned around to hear the distant screams of Bucky from somewhere near.

“I hear you. I’m sorry.” You whispered to yourself. You knew they would never make him remember that. It would ruin their plans that they had for the both of you. (The next day)

You had stayed on the couch all night waiting for Bucky to come back but he never did. Did HYDRA kill him? Did they think you were the better ally to keep around? Were those screams the last you would ever hear him? These thoughts keep you up all night. Eating whatever mush they gave you for breakfast you heard someone stumble into the room and peeked around your room entrance. It was Bucky, laying there on the floor lifeless. The guards laughed and walked away from the room just leaving him there. Making sure it was safe you helped him up and placed him onto his bed. There were new marks all over him. Blood was coming out of new wounds and he looked like he had died a million times over and they kept bringing him back to life.

“Buck...Buck….BUCKY?!” You finally got him to open his eyes and the corner of his lips tugged into a smile. Your wounds from him were still very visible and you hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“Come lay with me, Please Princess.” Bucky’s voice was very hoarse and you could hardly make out what he said. You left his side and looked around you. Nobody was there, then you checked the sheets on the wall. In big red letters it said, NO TRAINING. You smiled knowing you could lay with him all you wanted today. Lifting yourself over him you moved against the wall and had Bucky nuzzle into your chest. Petting his hair you felt him grip your waist and you kissed his forehead. He pressed his head deeper into your neck and you remembered a song from somewhere that felt calming to you. You and I, We’re like fireworks and symphonies exploding in the sky. With you I’m alive. Like all the missing pieces of my heart they finally collide. So stop time right here in the moonlight, cause I don't ever want to close my eyes. WIthout you, I feel broke like I’m half of a whole. Without you, I’ve got no hand to hold. WIthout you, I feel torn like a sail in a storm. Without you... I’m just a sad song. Gently going along his spine with your fingers you felt his full weight against you. He was asleep, and everything seemed so right. You had to find a way to get out of here, with him. You aren't going to be hurt anymore by anyone. Looking up at the camera in the corner of Bucky’s room you rolled your eyes.

(Somewhere in HYDRA)

Several people were gathered around the surveillance system watching you and Bucky together.

“Commander, It’s working, They love each other. They will be an unstoppable force to use at your disposal.” Someone spoke out of the crowd and everyone split to let their leader through. Red Skull smiled devilishly at the video and laughed.

“Looks like I have discovered the true power of Love. They will be sent out with our attack next week, and nothing will be able to stop them after tomorrow.” Laughing as he left the room.

SERIES MASTERLIST

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loladelores · 3 years

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Empanadas or a trick?

Boston ( @MindYourPanties ):

-I found Rio alright. He found himself a senorita and next thing I knew he was knee deep in trouble. I had spent my days covering the city for him when I finally stumbled upon the old family friend in one of the local cafes. And wouldn’t you know it, the empanadas were on point. I quickly became attached to the café during my travels. The hole in the wall, you could have missed had it not been for the music that was carried out into the streets. My nights had been spent seeking out the clubs and when I didn’t find what I was searching for, Rio was good with knowing his way around the one of many bars but so did I. He was just as charismatic as ever and even in his older age, he could still hang with the best of us. It was no secret that he reminded both @InTheHandsOFate and myself of Papa Stone and if I were honest, so much so in fact that it made the ache I felt when I missed him that much more.- Rio, one more than off you go. You heard what Memphis said. -Chuckling, I motioned for another round as he continued his story. No matter how long it had been since the last time he had been to Chile, the story had always been one and the same. The famous La Lola, killed her husband but one couldn't be completely sure depending upon who told it or what version you got. It seemed through the years, the legend would become so outlandish that you couldn't help but question the integrity of the story and its source. Still, I entertained him while he spoke and when the one of the locals started blabbering about how real she was, I instantly took interest in what exactly the man had to say. “She threw his ass out the window! Didn’t you hear? Out. The. Window.” Each word, more pointed than the last. “No, that was the other guy!” Another patron of the bar shouted.- You mean to tell me, she just wanders. Nobody has even attempted to speak to this woman and find out the truth? -You could hear a pin drop, the silence, deafening. You could hear the shatter of a glass as it was dropped, the record player, screeching to a halt. All that to say, it intrigued me more now that everyone seemed to believe that all this evil seemed to brew within this one woman.- Bullshit.. -A collective of laughter shot out into the night then. ”Believe us or not, you can find her down at the cemetery most nights. Ask her yourself if you dare.” And that was the kicker wasn’t it? If you dare...- Trust me, I plan on it. -I didn’t know why I even cared but something told me that a stroll through the cemetery was in order and when I got up from the chair, I held my hand up to Rio to stop him. I already knew what he was going to say.- I figure she might be out there now, I might as well check it out. -”Ahh but Chico, be careful. Memphis will kill me if she takes you out.” I laughed. Went right passed a chuckle and laughed hard.- Please, nobody is taking me out, Rio. I will be heading back to the states soon enough. You have the box for Memphis? -Thinking back to the call from @InTheHandsOFate, I grinned when Rio nodded. @InTheHandsOFate went and did it. Was starting a family of his own and I couldn’t be happier, for him. I was going to be an uncle and that I could do. I was ready for that. Picking up the last shot, I threw it back, downing it before I picked up the bottle I had asked for from the table.- Don't wait up. -Giving him a wink, it was time I met this @LaLolaDelores and I ventured out into the street to find her with the bottle in tow.-

Lola:

::I normally didn’t like people. But ever since my...the military man, I was even less impressed by them. I had lost all faith that there was a single good person left in this world. And for that reason, I started to long for someone to finally be brave enough to take me out. Finally, I could just join Joaquin in the ever after. Unfortunately, most were not so bold. And I wasn’t so sure that my instincts wouldn’t kick in. With a sigh, I dropped down on top of Joaquin’s grave. My eyes scanning the horizon for any manifestations. And spirits dropping even more when there was none. I picked up my guitar, pulling it into my lap, and whispered:: Corazon pesado... alma pesada... ::with that, I began to strum quietly, eyes closing as I envisioned happier times::

Boston:

-The night was still young, the streets were littered with people for a Sunday evening but once I had made it closer to the the far end of town, the more desolate it became. The cemetery wasn't hard to find as I had passed by it several times upon my arrival and once I had reached the gate, I paused only to take a pull from the bottle, hearing the faint music of a guitar inside. I wanted to get to the bottom of this folklore and if she was present this night, I was going to find out the truth. Taking hold of the gate, I pushed it open with my palm and headed inside. Hearing the music getting louder while I approached, I noticed the forks in the road so to speak to each grave marker, each headstone. Pausing once more, I finally caught sight of her and decided to listen to her song, posting up against nearest tree.-

Lola:

::I played quietly to myself for several minutes, getting lost in a medley of some of the saddest songs I knew. But suddenly, I noticed a shift in the air. I could feel both Joaquin’s alertness mixed with my own and I sat a little taller. Something had changed, and slowly, my fingers came to a stop then clutched at the guitar. As I focused on the presence I could feel behind me a chill went up my spine. Once again my eyes scanned the horizon for a manifestation, gritting my teeth at the fact that even in death he made no move to protect me::

Boston:

-It had to be the saddest songs that made the most of her plight. It spoke volumes to me with every note she would play on those strings, even the lyrics from her lips. It poured off her and I knew there was no way the stories I heard were true. Not the part of killing him at least. Still I took my time in watching her, taking another swig from the bottle before I shoved myself off the tree, the bark catching my coat in the process. That's when she heard it. She instantly stiffened and I was quick to step forward, speaking out.- No te haré daño. -Not that I had any leg to stand on really being a stranger and a foreigner but I looked up just in time to see a crow fly down and I got real bold.- I said I won't hurt her. -Turning back to you, I noticed the name on the headstone, knowing it was you as the bird flew off- He normally send that thing after you? -holds the bottle out to you, offering you a drink of the liquid spirit.- My name is Boston and you are Lola, no?

Lola:

::At the sound of your voice, I whipped my head to the side, catching sight of you just before the flapping of familiar wings that had my heart stopping for a second. I could feel the rage of the bird as it got closer and instinctively, I cowered away from it. Only blowing out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding when he flew away. Shocked I turned widened eyes back to you. He had never listened like that before. Righting myself and flicking my eyes between you and the bottle in your hand, there was a part of me that wished you were sent to do what I was longing for earlier. Maybe there was poison in that bottle? That thought was the one that made my decision for me. Pushing myself to stand, I move a little closer to you, reaching out tentatively for the bottle before pausing halfway to flick my eyes back up to yours again, watching for any sudden movements, and snatching the bottle from you a little harder than I intended before backing up several steps and bringing it to my lips, drinking greedily as my eyes stay fixed on you. Still not answering for a few seconds as I focused on the warm burn of the alcohol in my system, half expecting a choking sensation or something. And when it never comes, I let out a sigh:: Si. Lola.

Boston:

Nice to meet you Lola. -I grinned then, seeing you take the bottle at first even if you had snatched it away. I didn't know if I really thought you would be here or not but seeing how you took pull after pull from the bottle, something told me you had been waiting here for night after night for a long time. I kept my distance so not to scare you off and perched myself up on Joaquin's stone like you had before. Being sure to slap at his marker like I was playing the drums while you drank.- You never answered me. He visit you as that crow a lot?

Lola:

::tilts my head curiously as I watch you so at ease, drumming on Joaquin’s marker. I suppose I should be offended. My eyes dropped to my guitar there. Normally I would’ve picked it up and swung it for you even getting near his marker. But better you than the crow. Making no move to step any closer to you, I casually shrug one shoulder before taking another drink from the bottle. This was mine now. I didn’t care whether you approved or not:: Crow. Dog. Various beasts. Depends on how angry with me he is that day. ::lifts the skirt of my dress pointing to a now almost healed canine bite on my thigh:: Bigger animals do more damage.

Boston:

-Watching as you lifted your skirt, I saw what was left of the bite. Healing or not, I felt the urge to curse him.- Does he blame you for his death? -At least you were open to talking about it. The bottle was long gone from me and when I saw you take another pull, I snagged up your guitar, strumming along a few familiar cords from my childhood as you watched on. The memory coming to mind of when my papa would sing it to our mama and I found it fitting here now, with you. Licking at the pad of my thumb, I went back to it, letting the lyrics pour out at first.- Cruzaré las montañas, los ríos, los valles Por ir a buscarte me gustaría... -I didn't stop as I held your gaze for the longest, the words tumbling out of my mouth like a man possessed but I wanted to get it out.- salvo tormentas, ciclones, dragones.. Sin exagerar -Coming to the end of the chorus, I nodded my head slowly as you lowered the bottle from your lips, clearly in shock.- Por poder mirarme con tus hermosos ojos Y vive la gloria de estar a tu lado Porque en mí ya siento que te necesito Que me he enamorado.. If he didn't loveyou like that, then he doesn't deserve your love in death or your devotion. -Strumming one last cord, I held the guitar out to you as a trade for the bottle, hoping there was at least a few shots left to wet my whistle too.-

Lola:

::My disappointment at the lack of poison in the bottle wore off as the warming effects of the alcohol spread through my body. Perhaps you were wise to allow me to continue with the bottle before attempting to touch what is mine. First the marker of Joaquin and now my guitar. But before I can tell you as much, you begin singing. The tone of your voice was rich and soothing. Furrowing my brows, I take long drink from the bottle again, no longer aware of how much liquid is even left as I listen to your words. A part of my heart aching at the devotion of the lyrics. A devotion I had always dreamed Joaquin would offer me. With that I was tired of alcohol. All it did was sting my mouth and make me feel things. So when you held my guitar out to me, I shoved the bottle at you, hugging the guitar close to body:: I... ::frowns to myself. Is that why he’s angry with me? Does he blame me? I had never really thought of it until then:: Maybe he’s angry I was not murdered too. I have not joined him in death yet.

Boston:

So it's true. You didn't murder him. -Yeah, it was time to rip that Band-Aid off. Bringing the bottle to my lips, I hated the way you questioned it. I seriously doubted with how you were acting that you had it in you to kill him but I had to be sure. I wanted to hear it from your own lips.- I don't think that's how it works. Not the angry part I mean. -I knew with Mama and Papa Stone, they had went together. There had been no waiting for one another but I knew our papa, he would have waited for her or followed our mama anywhere. Even in death. Giving a shake of my head, I finished taking that last pull, killing the bottle before I jumped down off the stone. Motioning to the path that would lead us out of the cemetery and into the streets.- Walk with me a while? I think it's safe to say I won't bite. -Glancing at your skirt for not the most obvious of reasons but more so remembering the bite you showed me and I lifted my chin to towards the main entrance.- Come on, you like empanadas?

Lola:

::Takes a step back at your words, my head jerking back as if you had slapped me, and gasping. I knew everyone said I killed him. And it wasn’t the first time someone had said it to my face. But you weren’t as venomous as I was used to. So somehow the words hit differently. However, you saved me from having to answer when you hopped from the gravestone, now asking me to join you for empanadas:: I could kill you. ::my face stayed deadly serious as I stared back at you. It wasn’t a threat. It was a statement of fact. I hadn’t been my normal self thus far. But all it took was one wrong step from you and...:: Nobody will be impressed to see you with me either. You will not earn points.

Boston:

You think I care what people think? Here? -I chuckled, tossing the now empty bottle in the trash as we made our exit. We walked, not necessarily side by side, at first but close enough I didn't have to shout your way. Looking over at you once more, I thought over the seriousness of your statement and slipped my hands into my pockets, nodding as we made our way back into downtown. The bright lights of the city paving our way as well.- You could kill me but I don't think you will and if anyone has anything to say about you being with me, I will handle it. -I thought about what you said in great detail the further we walked, glancing back over to you when we were just a few blocks away from the café.- It's this place called Nino's, if you rather go somewhere else, we can do that. They just have really good empanadas. -grins-

Lola:

::I didn’t even know why I was going with you. Clearly something had snapped further in my mind with the military man’s betrayal. And I was well aware of the way you kept looking over at me. Sure you were planning something and before long I would be defending myself, I hugged my guitar tighter to my body, wondering if I should just slip down the alley and back to my apartment. I really liked this guitar. It would be sad to ruin it. Then you said the name, and my slightly impaired mind was redirected again, glancing over my shoulder toward the cemetery, afraid of his disapproval at me accompanying another to our favorite cafe:: They do... ::laughs quietly:: My favorite...

Boston:

Then let me buy us something to eat. Just some good food and conversation, hm? -I could see Memphis now. Ribbing at me for entertaining the idea that I was so wrapped up in this woman and her story. No doubt he would be saying I told you so but I didn't care. Pulling out my cell, I fired off a text to both Rio and @InTheHandsOFate, letting them both know I was still alive and in good company so far tonight. After hitting send, I looked up to see you watching me and I offered a crooked grin.- Just letting my familia know you haven't killed me yet. -Winking, I opened the door to the café and let you enter first, making sure to cut my eyes to anyone that dared utter a word as I followed you in.-

Lola:

::I stopped walking when you pulled out your cellphone. Old habits had me sure you were texting a woman. The jealousy that knotted my stomach had me confused. But I explained it away as habit, and a frown graced my lips briefly while my thoughts drifted to Joaquin and his putas. Then another, even more suspicious thought crossed my mind causing me to narrow my eyes at you when you looked up from your phone. My response a knee jerk reaction as the jealousy was now replaced with a low simmering anger that you may be working with someone to hurt me:: Yet. ::kicking my chin up defiantly and stepping past into the cafe, it wasn’t lost on me that all eyes turned in my direction. They always did::

Boston:

And just like that, we were back to square one. I didn't mind it however and as we made our way into the once crowded café, I only noticed the few parties that were there, were the only ones looking at you or us rather. I had been quick to shoot them a glare which caused a few of the women to gasp and look away, the men actually huffed before turning their heads and whispering. When we were greeted by the hostess, I instantly took the menus from her and spoke loud enough for everyone to hear me.- We will seat ourselves, gracias. -With that, I placed my hand at the small of your back to lead you to the table, opting for the one on the balcony, over looking the city. The most sought out table in the place and one that put us in the spotlight. I wanted them to see us. And it was high time, you did too.- The sooner you don't care what they think, the better off you will be. -I offered a kinder grin then, pulling out your chair before having a seat myself.- I want you to order whatever you would like. No limit, Lola.

Lola:

::The jolt that goes through me when you place your hand at the small of my back catching me off guard. And now my expression changed from the harsh glare I usually gave to my constant spectators to one of an almost shy worry about what they were thinking. It was almost as if you read my mind when you spoke those next words and my pride took over as I turned my attention to you:: I do not care what they think. Any of them. ::with a little huff, I took my seat, unable to stop my eyes from darting around the area, taking note of the quickest escape routes before sizing up the silverware in the table, my mind ranking it from most deadly to least:: It’s always the same. ::an almost smile gracing my lips now:: Empanadas de pino.

Boston:

That's what I will have also. Gracias. -I said thanks again as the waitress came up, taking our order and I ask for a round of water to wash it down with along with two beers, handing her my menu first then seeing you do the same almost hatefully, I waited for her to retreat before speaking again, noticing the way you were looking over our silverware.- What does one have to do to earn your trust, Lola? -English. She spoke it and while I could have spoken in my native tongue, I didn't want an audience hearing us. Seeing us, yes, but hearing us, no.-

Lola:

::Another question I didn’t know the answer too. This one confusing me more than the one about Joaquin, and dropping my eyes to my hands where they rested on the table:: Ya no se. ::looks back up at you when I realize you spoke to me in English, and I briefly wondered if your Spanish was limited:: Trust always ends with me being hurt. Either the evil eye. Or a trick.

Boston:

Well, I can assure you, I am not up to any tricks with you. I just wanted to know. My time here is limited but what time I do have, I want to get to know you better. I have no expectations, Lola. -I nodded when the food arrived, turning my plate three times before I finally settled on it when I hear the confusion in your voice and I offer an explanation after I blessed our food, that grin back in place was genuine.- I don't care that they see us but our conversation and what we talk about is private. At least I think so. -digging into my food with gusto, I motion to your plate with a kick of my own chin.- The best in all of Chile, no? Or do you make homemade ones?

Lola:

::The confusion stayed written on my face as I listened to you talk. Although the tension I always held in my body relaxed a little. Different. You were different than the last foreigner that came near me. You weren’t promising me things you didn’t intend to keep. You even just said you would be leaving. ::with a little nod, I made the decision. Would I trust you...ya no se. But maybe I could let my guard down. Just a little:: These are my favorite that I don’t make. ::smirks:: I have my own recipe. Es mejor... ::darting my eyes to the nearest person when I realize I slipped into Spanish again:: Better.

Boston:

So you do make your own. That's good to know. -I took a bite of my first one, savoring the taste as I chewed, only to nod as I think over what you said and I scoot the water glass and one of the beer closer to you. Not sure which you would want.| Would you cook for me, Lola? -I taking in the restaurant and let out a low chuckle, finally finishing my first one and I wash it down with a drink of my beer.- Well? Do you think you would like that? Again, no expectations. I'll even let you hold my cell while I'm there. -Which was my lifeline to my brother. And something I rarely ever did. With that thought in mind, I bite into my second one, waiting for you to finish before you spoke finally.-

Lola:

::smirks at you before popping my first bite into my mouth. Whether you meant to or not, you had just made it into a challenge in my mind. And my competitive nature reared. Reaching for the beer, I take a drink still eyeing you more for dramatic effect than anything else. I rarely allowed anyone in my home. But I also knew I could handle myself no matter the setting. I might even have an advantage there if things went south. The cellphone offer was an interesting one too. Especially considering my earlier suspicions when you texted someone. Finally nodding my head slowly and offering a genuine smile:: I will show you. ::cuts off another piece, using my fork to point at you:: These are nothing compared to mine.

Boston:

Dinner soon then at your place, Si? |I was already pulling the key out of my pocket and slid it onto the table to you, us both knowing what that meant as a smirk lifts at the corners of my lips.- I'm looking forward to it. -With that said, I enjoyed the rest of my dinner and present company included. Motioning once again to the key on the table.- I'm staying over at the hotel on Kismet road. You can't miss it. When you are ready for me to eat, come get me. You can let yourself in. -I was 100% putting the ball in your court. Running the risk of either you not showing up at all or maybe you did. Either way, I was allowing you to make the decision to trust me or not. And as I lifted my glass in a toast to you, I grinned wider.- To living life, Lola. -I clinked my glass to yours then, my evening with you, now complete.-

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flaritywrites · 3 years

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Call of the Discs

summary - before the main events of the smp war, dream makes a deal with a demon.

word count - 1,609

warnings - nightmares, demons, angst-ish

a/n - this is my first attempt at a dreamsmp related fic. just for funsies—but let me know what you think! also, find it on ao3 here.

Dream always seems to find himself here.

In the darkest hours of the night, distorted whispers poke and prod at his unconscious mind. Seductive and lilting like sirens, they lure him out of bed with promises of treasures—of uncharted land and untapped power.

The lust of a captivated sailor leads him through his castle. It guides him down the marble corridors with bare-feet, uses his calloused hands to pry open a set of familiar steel doors.

Somewhere between sleep and waking, Dream heeds their delicate instructions.

The weapons room is an array of glinting metals—of netherite swords and diamond axes. They line the walls like wallpaper, sharpened edges a whisper away from sliced flesh and fatal blows. There’s a sense of history that envelopes the dull, tile flooring: every footfall a recollection of dead men’s final words. Hollow victories echo from calvaries lost to time’s beckoning hands.

Even in this state, Dream relishes the familiar clinks and clangs of metal on metal.

They ground him to an unstable world.

Here—they unveil fate’s plans for him.

The joints in his fingers cramp up uselessly as he ties knot after knot. The pattern of rope and loops are ingrained like the lyrics of a song into his muscle memory. Attached to them are various forms of weapons: swords, spears, tridents. They hang from the ceiling on hooks like lanterns in a cavern, swinging helplessly in the wake of Dream’s antics.

After he’s secured the last knot, he climbs down his ladder.

The floor is cool to the touch. Dream absently watches the chills that flourish down his arms as he positions himself below his creation.

In the moonlight, the gleaming tips of his blades wink affectionately.

Swish, clink.

He closes his eyes.

Swish, clink.

And in his mind, he welcomes the sounds of his dreamscape.

Swish—

“Dream, heads up!”

An enderpearl shoots through the air like a rocket.

Dream, nine years old and unafraid of most anything the world has yet to offer, watches the glimmering ball fly past him with calculated boredom. In a split second decision, he takes the necessary side-step to avoid the pearl, and it narrowly misses his shoulder on a trajectory path to a nearby birch tree.

SPLAT.

It slides down the trunk in clumps of green goo.

From the purple mist that forms, a scruffy boy appears, sporting a wolfish grin and a victory whoop.

Dream grimaces. Holds back an eye-roll. “Sapnap, you have to stop—”

“DREAM!”

His instincts don’t save him this time.

Another boy releases an enderpearl, and this one has no chance of missing. It lands with an impressive POP directly on Dream’s spinal cord, and Dream doesn’t have time to avoid the scrawny body that falls out of this mist.

The boys tumble to the ground, and Dream meets a mouthful of dirt as wide-framed goggles dig into his shoulder blade. Grass tickles his cheek maddeningly. “George,” he muffles around several blades of grass, “you’re an idiot.”

His friend giggles above him. “Your mum’s an idiot.”

The two break out into a brawl of tiny fists and prepubescent insults, and the third boy, newly recovered from his encounter with the birch tree, makes his way over to the scuffle. He stands above them devilishly. “Well, boys,” he declares, tapping an elbow with an open palm, “you know what this means.”

A flurry of protests emerge from the tangle of limbs and clothing, but—

“DOOOOOGPILE!”

And with a manic shout, all three boys descend into the rampant chaos of a childhood afternoon’s playtime.

Above them, the summer sun glares harshly, covering the rolling hills with spiraling heatwaves and the orange hue of golden hour. A breeze tickles the hay bales and relieves the simmering livestock, earning a chorus of farm noises that brings the quiet ambience to a gentle crescendo.

In the middle of it all, Dream finds himself a spectator to his own childhood memory. Out of body, placed cross-legged on the top of his old barn’s roof, he watches his friends work together to pin him playfully to the ground. His younger self writhes in the green and yellow grass, bursting with uncontrollable laughter as Sapnap and George tickle him relentlessly.

It moves something within him.

“A happy childhood makes for a happy adulthood,” a voice observes coyly. Dream stiffens. “Or so I’ve been told.”

He doesn’t have to guess what happens next.

Before him, the summer trees begin to wither and decay. The bright green leaves detach themselves from their branches and float to the ground, blackening before they reach the dirt. One by one, he and his friends fade out of existence.

Predictable.

The voice tries again. “So if that’s the case,” it muses, voice switching from one side of Dream’s head to the other, “then what happened to you?”

Dream thumbs the mask at his belt. The voice is always the same—always indistinguishable, genderless. In this form, it’s more in Dream’s imagination than outside of him. He can feel it rattling around in his brain. Searching.

Dream slides the mask over his face. “I don’t recall paying for a therapy session.” He pauses to consider. “Did you put it on my tab?”

The voice is tired. “I long for the day when you’ll show me an ounce of respect.”

“I don’t respect demons.”

“The pot calls the kettle black, I’m afraid.”

Dream tsks dryly. “Touché.”

The voice falls silent around him. Behind Dream’s eyes, the tentacles of pressure relent into a dull ache. There’s a slight breeze, and though he won’t be able to remember what, Dream knows something has been taken from him.

A presence appears at his side.

“Hello, Clay.”

It’s George’s voice that greets him.

Dream is all at once very grateful for his mask.

“This is much better,” says his imitated friend. “I’ve always liked this body. It’s very...nimble.”

Dream risks a glance at the demon. It mirrors his position on the roof: George’s legs are delicately crossed, one hand draped across them, the other propped behind it for support. George’s goggles are a mockery on its face.

It even wears his friend’s careful smile.

Still, there’s one thing it can’t ever seem to get right.

“Do you think this body is nimble, Clay?” George’s eyes question him playfully.

The color is there—an intricate mix of brown and gold.

But they always lack his humanity.

Dream looks away. “Can we just get to why I’m here?”

“Ever the charmer,” George’s voice chides. In his peripherals, Dream watches it fumble with the goggles on its head. It pulls them down over its eyes, then back across its hairline. Dream shoots it a withering look. “Fine,” it groans. “But this one’s going to cost you.”

That perks Dream’s interest. “What’d you find?”

It pauses to look at him. A cheshire grin reveals George’s white teeth. “More than you can even fathom.”

Dream’s heart pounds in his chest. “Name your price.”

The denom tuts. “Now, now.” It transitions to a standing position. It doesn’t use its legs like a human—just kind of...teleports onto its feet. It teeters along the edge of the roof, crossing it like a tightrope. George’s token blue shirt billows in the wind. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” Dream says immediately.

“I’m sure you will.” George��s arms splay like a bird in the wind. “But I have to warn you, Clay—this one isn’t for the faint of heart.”

Dream narrows his eyes. “Just tell me what you want, and it’s yours.”

The demon stops. Tilts its head to stare at Dream. “Promise?”

A trickle of unease crawls into Dream’s insides. George’s bronze gaze taunts him in a way he doesn’t understand.

“I promise.”

A smile oozes across the demon’s face. It removes the goggles from its head.

“For now, then, we’ll say you owe me a favor.”

It tosses the goggles over the roof. They fall soundlessly to the ground, frames gleaming with forgotten sunlight.

An enderpearl appears in their place. It glows almost neon in George’s pale hand.

On the inside, a purple mist billows and swirls.

Dream watches it flow.

“But until then—”

It bounces the enderpearl into the air. The orb explodes in a wonderful show of mauves and violets,

“—let’s go visit our trophy.”

Before Dream can react, a gentle haze builds in his vision. Around them, the scene begins to crumble at the edges. Blackness spills into the muted atmosphere.

Swish, clink.

The decayed forest disappears under the cloud of mist. It envelopes the roof, the demon, Dream—swallowing him whole and stealing his breath. His lungs erupt into flames around the mist.

Time slips away like a shadow. Dream’s senses leave him completely. He’s bodiless, now—a ghost. Remnants of a conscience.

Then—light.

They’re in a forest. He can’t see the demon, but it’s there. It’s part of him.

“Look around, Dream.”

A log cabin is in front of them. Through a glass window, Dream can barely make out a scrawny blonde boy squatting on the wooden floor.

Swish, clink.

There’s a half-finished jukebox before him, and he tinkers recklessly with a pick-axe.

Two black discs sit at his feet.

“This is what we’ve been waiting for.”

Swish—

Somehow, Dream can hear their songs.

The melody coils around him like a hungry snake. Visions of a new empire flash before him: reds and blues of a flag flying half-mast, overarching walls towered by smoke and spiraling arrows.

An ocean of want looms over Dream. Drops of it dampen his entire being.

“What are they?” He breathes.

The demon’s laugh is low and rumbling. It’s the only sound in the world.

“Opportunity.”

—clink.

#dreamsmp #dreamsmp fic #dream #georgenotfound #mcyt #fic #flaritywrites #my fic

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runin-reads · 4 years

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❛ under my umbrella ❜

— tendou x reader oneshot

W/C: 1.5 k

TAG(S): @mushfairy since this is a collab with her!

SYNOPSIS: “So what do you say, Sa-to-ri? You up for the challenge?

“You’re on”, he replies with a grin.

In which you jokingly challenge Tendou to perform in the up-coming talent show. You don’t think he’s actually going to do it, and Tendou is hell bent on proving you wrong.

Inspired by this song and performance

Breathe, you’ve got this.

Tendou is out backstage, waiting his turn to perform for the long-anticipated talent show. The other dancers, both male and female, are waiting alongside him, waiting with bated breath. The vocalists, the bands, and the stand-up comedians have already performed. There’s only one more performance from the martial arts committee to really get the adrenaline pumping within the audience. After they finish, Tendou and the rest of the Miyagi City Dance Crew would debut to the awaiting crowd.

He catches your eye from a gap between the curtains from where you’ve just been seated at the front row, and he thinks he’s not doing a bad job at facing your challenge.

“And up next, it’s the Miyagi city dance crew, dancing to singing in the rain by Gene Kelly,” the announcer declares.

Make the audience yours. Dance as if you own the stage and the complete attention of the people watching you.

There was a silence… and then the curtains were drawn.

There he is, Tendou Satori in the flesh, wearing a pinstripe suit and a smart, wide brimmed hat. The music playing was cheerful and vintage, the smooth, velvety vocals echoing through the stage as he skipped about with a spring in his step and hand on his hat. He knows this is just the beginning. He does a good job at spinning around and tapping his feet, putting on a show for all eyes to see. Underneath his hat, his eyes are shining. Underneath the grip of his hand, is an umbrella.

The music changes. It changes into a steady beat led by percussion that duels with breath-taking vocals, as lights flash and fellow dancers in black bodysuits come on stage from the sides. The song that’s playing now is Umbrella by Rihanna, and when Tendou comes out from behind a wall of umbrellas --that are held courtesy of his teammates-- his suit is off, he has the same umbrella in hand, and on his body? A fucking leather bodysuit that ends mid-thigh.

He looks like a hired dancer for a private show. Along his shoulders are thin leather straps attached to an equally as black tank top, leading down to shiny shorts that streamline his body and draws attention to his actions in a way that the old volleyball uniform fails to do; tight enough to showcase his figure, not enough to restrict movement. There are frills along the hem of the shorts that put emphasis on his legs, the same legs that are covered in fishnets that lead down to black ankle boots. The lingering stares he earns makes him feel like a palace courtesan from a time long gone, but that doesn’t matter right now.

Make the audience yours.

Tendou repeats the words in his head, and does exactly that.

The crowd is already cheering, high-pitched whistles and excited whoops that get drowned out by the music. Tendou starts strutting to the beat and steps into a new persona. Tonight he isn’t the ex- middle blocker of one of the best volleyball teams of the nation; he's just Tendou Satori, a red-haired dancer tasked with making the entire venue fall to their knees.

With the electrifying music that’s just the right blend of passion and longing, he turns his body into a weapon of well-practiced moves, a weapon of seduction set to kill. He doesn’t have time to contemplate the wide-eyes of his friends, or the way his movement made your jaw drop -- because whatever it is you’re feeling at the moment, he doesn’t think it’s disgust.

Instead, he throws himself into his dancing, as if he was part of the dance club he teamed up with, as if he was born to move for his lover, for you and only you. His legs strut to the music and his hips move like even Shakira can’t match his tempo. He’s constantly on the move, dropping down to run a hand up his leg, throwing his head back and moving his torso to do a complete body roll that’s directed towards flushed faces and parted mouths. He’s spinning the umbrella between nimble fingers, and holding that same umbrella between his legs as he sways his body to the beat.

He falls deeper into the mania of the performance. He dances in sync with the rest of the crew. The flashing lights and the roaring crowds become a blur once he really gets into it; it’s as if he’s in his world, it’s as if the only spotlight is on him and you and whatever lies in between. Tendou wants to cross that distance, and so he does.

“You can run into my arms

it’s okay don’t be alarmed

come into me…”

Rihanna sings with a voice that’s straight from the heart, and as if on cue he cat-walks to the edge of the stage where you’re sitting close-by, he does so with his head thrown back and his glistening neck on display. His arms are wide open as if sending an invitation:

Are you really that unaffected? Why don’t we find out, he seems to say, even with his mouth shut and in the form of a tantalizing grin.

He doesn’t look for an answer to this question. Rather, he drops to the ground, onto his back, and arches his back upwards in order to feel the burn of leather across his ribs. His eyes flit to your face, he sees the stiffness in your jaw, sees your knuckles clutching onto the armrests for dear life, sees your usual icy eyes and is faced with nothing but fire. He doesn’t glance at your face again, he lets you burn. He slinks back into the formation, and continues his performance. In the background, Rihanna continues her heartfelt singing:

“So gon' and let the rain pour

I'll be all you need and more…”

Following the bellowing voice, the dance becomes more intense and all of a sudden there’s water pouring down, supplied from the special effects team. Tendou uses the water to his advantage, splashing it forward using his hand, slicking his hair back with the streams running down his body.

He ends the routine with a forward flip onto his back that quite literally knocks the breath out of him and the people watching. There’s a definite roar as the audience responds, people screaming names, shouting their disbelief and throwing out compliments like it’s going out of style. He sits up as blasts of confetti are falling through the air, streams and whirlwinds of different colors obscuring his vision, yet the only color he can focus on is the red of your cheeks and your smile which may as well be a whole fucking rainbow on it’s own.

That’s enough, Tendou thinks. You’re all I needed to see.

Now that the performance is done with, there’s only one thing left to do:

He takes the umbrella that was lying on the floor, he opens it and holds it up his head. With a low bow to the audience, he links arms with his brothers and sisters in arms, and they saunter off of the stage. He feels eyes on the back of his neck and down the curve of his spine. Paired with the sweat on his back and water running down, it feels like he’s become one with the sky and rain. He sends one last lingering look towards you, and with a jerk of his head he manages to convey one simple message:

Meet me outside, I got something to say to you, and because the two of you are in sync, always will be and always have been, that’s exactly what you do. You meet him outside with butterflies in your stomach and your heart on your sleeve. When you finally spot him standing in a warm coat, comfy sweatpants and the same umbrella he used to perform in his hand. You move to make way towards him, only for Tendou to spot you first.

“Hey! So how was my performance, hm? Did ya like it? Did I blow your mind outta the water like I said I would?” he asks excitedly, and you watch with amusement as he waves wildly before making his way towards you.

“I did this for you, ya know. Now do me a favor and can you actually get to the part where you praise me?” The look on his face as he says this is proud, yet underneath you can see a genuine desire to hear your thoughts and words of affirmation.

“You did fucking great, Sato-kun. You fucking killed it and I doubt there’s anyone out there that thinks otherwise.” You say this with as much adoration as you can, and you stuff your hands in your pockets as he beams at the use of his nickname.

The two of you start walking home side-by-side, the sound of his voice being enough to drown out the rain. At some point, the rain gets heavier and Tendou’s only response is to use one arm to press you flush against his side. I could stay forver like this, you think, with a warm hand on your shoulder and a familiar face still buzzing with excitement paired with an umbrella overhead to keep you dry from the rain. In the background you hear thunder and you flinch, only for Tendou to lay a hand on your head to tuck you near his chest. From this up-close, you can hear his heartbeat grow steady. From this up-close, you can hear a familiar tune being sang:

“You can stand under my umbrella-ella-ella, eh, eh, eh. Under my umbrella-ella-ella, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh-eh…”

A/N: what do you guys think? I spent a long time on this, so feedback is greatly appreciated. Let me know your thoughts on this, and what I can do to improve. Take care everyone!

- Trish

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demytasse · 5 years

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[Shinzaya] Past Affection

—

The afternoons which bordered Summer were just as much a nuisance as they were a spectacle.

On one hand, they were the creators of colourful settings—beautiful, vibrant hues that blended from one stage to another; and the sun, a keen mage, slowed the passage of time until it was difficult to determine the current hour. Moments were easily lost, now with an unfamiliar schema that needed to be followed. That was the unfortunate other hand.

To which lost moments were already too many for students who’d been locked away in stuffy classrooms prior to the bell. Because all things considered the school grounds weren’t the place students wanted to remain past academic droll and extracurricular electives—sports teams and clubs. Yet inevitably time would get away from them; at least in return they created lifelong memories.

One day—in exact two before Summer—there was a particular club that fell victim to that of an extended school day.

The club was its own undefinable thing; a sort of study hall but also not. A science club by name, but a ruse. That and it was comprised only of a peculiar pair who had decided to rehash middle school upon a whim—late in the game, mid-career.

Hardly needed was a biology lab they once took advantage of, so a sterile box was ditched for an unused classroom that lacked decorations and student accommodations.

Beside its wide window were the founders, Izaya and Shinra, who had positioned themselves across from one another and occupied two turned desks united at their cutoff. Under the table their ankles did much the same—rested near each other, suspended in open space, their legs crossed in mirror.

Though one was a bob, a percussion that Shinra played against Izaya’s leg without his awareness; hardly nervous, rather a content tic—an old habit that resurfaced, years unpracticed thus a drumming disaster instead of something consistent and precise.

Regardless, he continued on with his unconscious backbeat for the seasonal cicadas and conditioned air flow—just as well accosted Izaya with low key affection.

Struck, Izaya was separated from his studies, hit with memories he wasn’t prepared to remember; scenes from his early teens, details he had tossed aside for less important ones. Though he was innately familiar with the beat, it was easy to move on.

That is until Shinra started to hum a swooning melody that matched the calm afternoon; that was when Izaya completely lost concentration.

He stuttered words within his notes, failed to comprehend excerpts already read in his textbook. It was far too difficult to focus with a track sweetly and tenderly sung in reverb; the only song Shinra ever hummed.

With that calling it was a struggle not to smile.

Though maybe he had, despite his wishes—given the glance he shared with Shinra for a second before his clubmate went back into space and beyond.

Further a distraction was the song itself. Izaya never had a name for it—nor did he have an artist or lyrics, just a general genre. Truly it never bothered him before, but lost in the moment it did, like he wanted to steal an mp3 from the internet in order to listen to it on repeat, unsure of if a moment like this would continue on in the future.

That aside it was pure curiousity.

A mystery he wanted his friend to reveal as a detective Izaya hired under the table with a nudge to halt the beat.

"So, I believe it's due time that you fill me in on what song you've been humming."

Shinra stopped. "Was I humming?"

"You weren't aware of that?"

"Well, I did have a song stuck in my head..." he looked to the ceiling, finger at his chin.

Izaya knew Shinra’s obliviousness was straight up crap.

"Perhaps you’ve had the same song in your head going on four years, then. Not like I doubt the possibility, with your proclivity to obsess over solo things."

"Oh geez, did you become an esper without me knowing? I mean, I would expect your desire to pry into the inner workings of other people’s minds, but never mine."

Shinra remarked slyly which ruffled Izaya.

He already had a hard enough time asking an oddball question out of the blue. Rather, it was odd for him to ask a personal question of a person he knew personally. Mind you, fairly exact.

"No." Dead-eyed, he continued. "Like I said, you hummed out that incessant ear-worm...and have been for so long that it’s permanently attached to my eardrums."

"Right,” Shinra nodded, “and just now you’ve begun to wonder what the song was."

“I’m sure if you roll back the script you’ll find your answer.”

“Well if you insist, should we take it from the top—” Izaya kicked Shinra, who laughed when his knee jerked in reaction.

“Spare me, Shinra.”

“Haha, alright! Alright! I’ll relent.” His laughter died as blind thought replaced his bespeckled vision.

Surprisingly the name wasn’t at the tip of Shinra’s tongue, unlike the wit he usually taunted. With a slack frown, he reviewed memories played in reverse.

All the while Izaya studied Shinra; heavy head in palm, pen long ditched, opposite hand a paperweight.

"Hmm...you know…” Shinra relaxed his confusion when the answer clicked.

Izaya hummed for him to continue.

"It wasn’t ever a song I intentionally picked. As cheesy as it might sound, the diddy automatically played whenever we were alone."

"Hu. I didn’t expect that… What is it, then? The song."

"I don’t know, Izaya. It probably shares the tune of a preexisting song."

"In other words… You made it up."

"I guess so. Is that so bad?"

Shinra looked without a care, his head nudged in favour of the window, enough to watch the sunset as it painted drifting clouds.

"Isn't that just like you..."

There was a definite pause—long enough for Izaya to put his pen to paper, but not enough for his paper to accept written word.

"Though it's funny, isn't it? That I never thought twice about it... That's rather not like me.”

Shinra spoke indolently, “but I realised something while thinking over it.”

Izaya let him continue.

“To be honest, it just reminded me of you," he stirred clouds with his finger, “much like the sunsets often do."

The confession was blunt, but in a good way—in response it widened Izaya's eyes, and all of a sudden the low sunset was blown into full saturation. Not in the sky, but a kaleidoscope swirl upon Shinra's cheeks.

The answer held more weight than he expected. More heart, more sentiment, more romance… It lulled simple honesty, acted as proof that they had become fully comfortable with one another. Finally, an overdue rain-check—fulfilled in the middle of golden hour on that random day.

Izaya remained entranced by his brightened view of Shinra, just as his object of attraction was lost in his skygaze.

"...ah…"

Shinra chuckled. “That's all you can respond with?" Clearly, Izaya knew how he really wanted to respond, but he struggled with how to do it; how to redirect that wistful stare upon him.

Even though he was handed the perfect opportunity it was difficult to craft something appropriate for the lackadaisical mood. To pull Shinra closer—more than a friendly distance, shorter than their default comfort zone.

Pathetically, the only thing he could muster was an edge forward with his fingers in lead; but beyond a few inches he froze, contemplated if he could see the simple plan through.

He couldn't.

His desire felt like it would ruin the moment—he lied to his cowardice. Which in return his confidence reassured him that sometimes a moment was better kept beautiful, uninterrupted.

Instead Izaya decided to reciprocate the warm caress of his ankle that Shinra reinitiated, in hopes that it wouldn’t sacrifice their intimacy upon contact.

Shinra twitched, but barely acknowledged it. He simply tapped the tabletop to invite Izaya to connect with him, at the very least by hand.

Covered in shadow Izaya’s smile probably went in vain, though it certainly spoke through his response; a sigh that mocked the blow of air conditioning.

"Mmm…” Izaya nodded.

“...that’s all."

—

AN: This is the cheesiest sht. This was originally an idea that was part of my fic Hold Me Tight (Or Don’t) but it didn’t quite fit after things progressed. I loved it too much to let it go to waste. Err...that’s why the setting about them rehashing their middle school biology club days is...is similar. Eheheh...

#shinzaya #izashin #kishitani shinra #orihara izaya #shinra kishitani #izaya orihara #durarara #durarara!!#shinra x izaya #izaya x shinra #drrr #drrr!!#durarara fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #demytasse fanfiction #demytasse fanfics #demytasse

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vlovers19 · 4 years

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I m a huge fan of your blog and i would love to know your perspectives on vmin songs especially promise and scenery.

Thanks for loving my blog and sorry for the late response. It's just that before I answer an ask as sensitive as this, I always like to get my facts straight and do plenty of research so my points get clearer. Without wasting any time, i'll first of all talk about Jimin's song promise before dwelving into Taehyung's song scenery. Now, this is all based on my own opinions. These are my honest interpretation of the songs. No one has to believe it.

To begin with, Promise was written in 2018 during a very dark period not only for Jimin but for the rest of the BTS members because it was at this time that they where considering disbanding. According to Jimin, Promise was originally a dark song before the song turned pure. This was a song Jimin took months to write by himself. However, when i take a close look at the lyrics, I see promise as a break up song and a very sad one at that. Now, let's take a look at the first verse

I sit alone, slumped down

And I break myself with these thoughts

You probably don't even know when you started hurting me.

Now, Jimin said in an interview after the song was released that promise was for himself which is true but there is also an unknown character within this song whom Jimin is directing the lyrics to. According to this first verse, Jimin is in pain because of someone who is oblivious to that pain. He makes it seem like everything is fine but this person doesn't notice the pain Jimin is going through because of the latter. There is no communication between them and as a result, Jimin is burdened by a lot of troubling thoughts which he can't share to this person.

You're hurting too cause you're mine

I just want to blow your mind

You're only drifting further away like this

I say that it's all fine

The truth is that's a lie

To me, this lyrics sounds like Jimin is either in a relationship with someone or has feelings for someone but this feeling is hurting them both because for some reason, it just can't be. Jimin is trying his best to assure this person, to make this person happy but the more he tries, the more there is a strain in their relationship. The more he pushes for something, the more the other retreats from him because of the fear being in a relationship with Jimin brings or might bring but Jimin acts like everything is fine but the truth is he is just as scared. Now, I'm not going to mention names, I'm just going to analyze these two songs promise and scenery then show you how they somehow respond to each other.

I want you to be your light baby

You should be your light

So you won't hurt anymore, so you can smile more.

I want you to be your night baby

You could be your night

I'll be honest to you tonight.

With this lyrics, I see that Jimin finally acknowledges that they need to be apart. What they share is causing them to break down and grow further enstranged from each other. So he tells himself and the other person to be their own light. They shouldn't lean on each other anymore. They should learn to do things on their own. Learn to live on their own. That way, they won't feel burdened. That way, they can finally feel free and start to smile again. Literally, just forget their feelings for each other and move on. Once they do that, Jimin can finally be honest with the other, no strings attached without expecting anything in return.

Now Promise me oh oh

Several times a day.

Even if you're alone. Don't throw your self away.

Oh oh oh. Hold on for a moment.

Interwine our pinkies and promise me now. Oh oh oh.

Now, Jimin has finally let go of the other even though it hurts. He knows the separation will hurt them both and they might both fall into a terrible state of sadness because of it so he makes them both make a promise to each other that no matter how bad things get or how lonely they become without each other, they must be strong and put themselves first before anything. To prove that there are two characters in this song, Jimin and an unknown person, there is that sentence. Interwine our pinkies. I don't think he's interwining his own pinkie now is he?

Jimin released promise on December 31st 2019 barely few seconds after Taehyung's birthday. Exactly one month later on January 31st 2019, Taehyung released scenery and we shall now closely examine his own song. Here is the first verse:

In the streets full of flowers, I see you today too.

Will it be in me?

In the park of the early morning.

I have my feelings now towards this old yellow illuminated by the moon

Listen to the film

It's a bit harder to interprete what Taehyung is saying because of the words he uses but they are all metaphors he uses to describe someone.

To me, Taehyung is remeniscing on his moments with someone. He takes a walk and everything he does reminds him of that person including the flowers on the street.

He remembers when he's in the park and how he feels towards this old yellow illuminated by the moon. The old yellow is the sun which is covered by the moon. When I see park, what crosses my mind is 4:O clock, a song Taehyung wrote which was inspired by a feeling he felt while waiting for Jimin at the park. Doesn't the lyrics seem a bit too familiar with 4.o'clock? Then he says listen to the film. During the song and the video, there was this shutter sound of a camera and Taehyung is trying to divert this person's attention towards it. It's a hidden message I have no idea about.

I still wonder wonder beautiful story

I still wonder wonder best part.

I still wonder wonder next story

I want to make you mine.

Taehyung is curious about what will happen next, what will happen in the future and what is to come but then he says I want to make you mine as though he has made up his mind to just go for it.

That's the time of the moment I missed my lost mind.

I regret it

Collect a moon light piece. I'll make the lights.

Like yesterday, Come in front of me

He's regretting something that happened in the past. Like during that time, he feels like he wasn't himself. Like he acted different.

Collect a moon light piece, I'll make the lights. This sentence feels like he's trying to restore something that has already broken. He's ready to take responsibility. Like he's telling the other person to leave things to him. Lights is a word that has been used in Jimin's promise and it has also been used in Taehyung's scenery. It just seems to coincide as something relating to a break up.

Like yesterday, come in front of me. Taehyung tells the other person to come back to him. He wants things to be as they where before which means things are different because they have broken up. They are no longer together. Simply put, he wants this person back.

If you leave foot prints, I'll keep it warm.

I'll stay in black and white.

What I feel Taehyung is saying is that even if the other decides to leave, decides not to take him back, or come back to him, he'll still be there, his feelings never changing.

Now, how does these two songs relate to each other? In my opinion, Jimin is lamenting of breaking up with someone. The aloofness and behavior of this person towards him hurt a lot but he took it all in. He is trying to be strong but it seemed the other had already given up. He didn't want to break up but he tried hard to salvage the relationship. However, the more he tried, the more things got worse. He couldn't speak up about his pain because he was trying to act like everything was fine till he finally gave up and decided to let the other person go hoping that there will be a mutual understanding between them and they can move on without getting too hurt.

Now, on the other hand, Taehyung was regretting letting go of something he had with someone. Everything he does reminds him of this person including being in the park. The park reminds him of how he feels when he's with this person. Ultimately, he wants this person back in his life. He's still uncertain about the future but he's ready to take the chance. And he's trying to assure this person that no matter what happens, his feelings will never change. He won't change his mind. Now, isn't this too concidental? The lyrics both sound like they are referring to each other. Everyone can make their own deductions concerning the song. However, this is mine. As far as I can tell, among all the members of Bts Jimin is the only one Taehyung has wanted to both sing a song with and sing a song for and I'm just going to add here that this is my own opinion and if anyone doesn't like it and wants to comment, you can do so in a respectfull manner giving me reasons why you disagree with me. I won't tolerate nasty and insulting comments directed directly or indirectly at me. This is an ask about an analysis on Vmin's songs promise and scenery and i just gave my own opinion. Thanks for reading and if you want my opinion on anything regarding BTS and Vmin, do let me know. Have a great day.

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dailymolliarty · 5 years

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The Mouse and the Spider by I’m Over There: Jim Moriarty gets bored. Molly Hooper gets lonely. They’re just two planets revolving around the brilliant sun that is Sherlock Holmes, drawn in by his gravity. And his light. But everybody needs distractions…

Song as Old as Rhyme by @wherestoriescomefrom: Hush, the wind is blowing hard. Be quiet, child, sleep soundly - Or the Dark One will steal your heart. [Beauty and the Beast AU]

Nameless by @wherestoriescomefrom: The first name was expected - even welcomed. The second, on the other hand, left much to be desired. And Jim would never understand what it was about it that was compelling. [Soulmate AU: On one hand, the name of your soulmate, on the other - your enemy. Molliarty.]

The Rose Point Manor: A young woman struggling in an unjust society takes a break from the theatrics of pretending to be her male counterpart, Mark Hooper, and decides to relax at the quiet but foreboding Rose Point Manor. There she comes to a realization that something far more sinister lurks there than at her morgue back home - Victorian AU

We’re Ancient History: When Molly Hooper had begun her scientific expedition, she never knew her time on the dig sites would unearth more than the dead.

Forget Me Not: “This melancholy London - I sometimes imagine that the souls of the lost are compelled to walk through its streets perpetually. One feels them passing like a whiff of air.” What happens when two lost souls find each other? Are they still forgotten? - Amnesia!AU

Capture My Good Side: “Photography is all about secrets. The secrets we all have and will never tell.”

Deus Mortis: "You can hide from the devil, but he’ll always find you.“ - Victorian AU

Face Value: “I’m not sure how to describe this nonsense, basically Molly looks good in a moustache and Jim notices.”

Not a Body Farm: Molly really should’ve known better than to download FarmVille on a criminal mastermind’s cell phone, even if it had been a hilarious joke at the time. Since one day she wakes up in a bed in some random farm in the middle of nowhere, and the deed to the property in her name.

Oh God, Not the Westwood!: In which timid Molly Hooper must hide a heinous crime from a man who likes to watch a murder take place while drinking his morning coffee.

Life Preserver: “Missing you comes in waves and tonight I am drowning.”

Midnight Edition: The Bittersweet: Pop-rocks can be unpredictable. In an instance, a delight to the senses, or startling painful the next - smut

The Bittersweet: Even delicious things can be sour, at another glance.

Third Date Syndrome: Long bouts of silence and awkwardness on first dates are inevitable, and for the hundredth time Molly wished she was exempted from it.

We’ll Always Have St. Barts: “I wish I didn’t love you so much.” - Casablanca AU

Apex: Molly Hooper thinks fondly of Jim from IT, but can’t get enough of Jim Moriarty - contains smut~

The Parting Glass: After Reichenbach, Molly Hooper is drowning. She receives a package, request and tradition from a very dead Jim Moriarty. She receives nothing but burdens from a very alive Sherlock Holmes.

Rust and Stardust: “The last long lap is the hardest. I shall be dumped where the weed decays, and the rest is rust and stardust.” - Jim is a ghost, and wouldn’t it just figure that he haunts Molly Hooper.

Wild and Precious: “Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon? Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” - How Molly fell in love with a ghost, and tried not to waste her life beside him. She failed. - settled in the same universe of Rust and Stardust

Release: Written for the prompt “Jim fucking Molly so hard and so good that she can’t even get a full word out, only moans and half-uttered curses “: In which Jim surprises Molly after work - contains smut~

A Love Outside of Time: There’s a lot of strange happenings at 2945 S Willow Street, shrieks and screams and moans that have terrorized the neighbors and left the house unsold for generations. Can the great paranormal investigator, Sherlock Holmes, exorcise the spirits living there?

Gifts Given and Received: Sherlock ruined Molly’s Christmas gift and Jim is determined to make her holiday better. - ASIB AU, contains smut~

Cabernet Sauvignon: Written for the prompt “Jim’s ready to propose, but wants the event to be special, and so he hides the ring in Molly’s wine. Molly drinks it down too fast and chokes on the ring”: A fluffy slice of life, where Molly makes Jim’s life just a little less lonely.

Power Dynamic: Molly can’t help trying to control the insanity that is Jim Moriarty. A framework for his mind to lean on, a collar to hold him together, a mistress to keep him mostly sane.

Asphodel: “When you need slightly-less-than-legal magic substances, you seek out ‘Moriarty’s Special Imports and Fineries’. A new branch of Necromancy, pathologist-in-training Molly Hooper returns a set of counterfeit goods and receives a job offer in return.” - Fantasy AU

Her beast feature: “As he studied her from afar, Jim thought Molly’s best feature was her neck. He really didn’t anticipate her reaction to Sherlock beating a dead man with a riding crop.” - Molly x Jim, PWP, set at the beginning of A Study in Pink

Junior: So what’s a beleaguered pathologist to do when the UK’s Most Wanted turns up to visit her cat?

Mr Sex: Jim doesn’t ask her what she likes or what she needs; it’s not necessary. But he asks her what she wants - contains smut

Sunday Afternoon: Sleep with Molly Hooper: Molly canceled their date at the last minute, but no one messes with Jim’s precisely organized calendar and gets away with it.

Why Don’t You Do Right?: Seb arranges for Molly to get an extra special, early birthday present. Jim gets to learn something new about Molly. And Molly discovers one of Jim’s deepest secrets.

Club Calavera: Downing five zombies doesn’t give Jim the liquid courage he needs to ask Molly a very important question. It only makes him forget that he and Molly are already together.

Happy Birthday, Jimmy Boy: Jim’s never had a good birthday. Molly’s determined to buck the trend. - contains smut

It’s A Nice Day For a [White Wedding]: The wedding of James Moriarty to Molly Hooper can be nothing less than a momentous occasion. In his speech, their best man recounts some of the juicier bits of Jim and Molly’s journey into matrimony.

Cold War: She had to admit Jim was creative. Who else would think to kill three ice cream salesmen from different towns and attach a one-worded note to each corpse, forming the sentence, “Ready to concede?”

My Persuasion Can Build a Nation: In a world where Eurus had a best friend growing up, she doesn’t go to Sherrinford, nor does she turn out as unhinged as she did in canon. However, she’s still Eurus, and her brothers absolutely forbid her from meeting Jim Moriarty. She’ll just have to fix that, won’t she? Also: Matchmaker!Eurus ftw.

What Sober Couldn’t Say: “(11:23 pm) Drinking again(11:24 pm) And since it makes me too sad to go on my blog anymore thanks to you, I figured it’s only fair you become my new place to vent(11:25 pm) You’re probably not receiving these messages anyway so no harm no foul(11:25 pm) Right?” - Molly drunk-texts Jim over the course of several months.

I Wanna Feel Like I Am Floating: “Now the question is…" He vamp-flipped them over so she was lying down and his body was pinning hers. “Should I tie you up and make you take it, or are you going to be a good little vampire and let Daddy have his way with you?” Jim & Molly’s journey: blood-sharing edition.- Vampire!Molliarty AU, s-m-u-t.

Coffin Shopping: Sebastian could only imagine what the other, mostly ancient customers perusing the store must be thinking of the couple in their thirties, bubbling with laughter and fooling around as they ran about in search of the perfect coffin.

Come To Daddy: Jim failed to see how Molly’s physicality could ever not be arousing. The size of her lips did nothing to detract from how amazing she was at sucking cock. The size of her breasts made it no less fun for Jim to cup them in his hands, tease her nipples into hard peaks, suck on them until she squirmed and made those delightful little sounds. - smuttish ;)

Intention: A take on how the brief but unforgettable office romance between Jim from IT and Molly from Pathology began and how it just might become more than just a simple office romance.

An Exchange: Jim Moriarty comes across a familiar face and realises, from just one exchange, that it is not merely Sherlock Holmes that connects them, but a connection of their own.

A Beginning: Jim Moriarty tries to make sense of new waves of sentiment as his office romance with Molly Hooper transits to become something more.

Interruptions: Molly Hooper is made to face a stunning revelation about Jim Moriarty, but it is her reaction that stuns him most.

An Enemy’s Gift: In the pursuit of his greatest enemy, Jim Moriarty makes an unexpected discovery.

On Fanfiction.net:

Life: James Moriarty is in trouble, so much trouble that he fears for his life. He soon learns, however, he has absolutely nothing to fear, not with Molly Hooper around.

Spiders: Molly and Jim have a casual chat laced with hints of their plans, revealing a side to Molly that both surprises and seduces Jim.

(Re)kindle: Jim Moriarty is perplexed at the lasting impression a certain Molly Hooper has left on him. When his rekindled fascination with her meets an unexpected obstacle, an animosity is ignited.

Other fics:

- The Demon I cling to

- The Anatomist

- What Slinks Unseen (one-shot)

- Safety in Small Numbers (one-shot)

- Heart Shaped Buttons (one-shot)

- I.O.U (in progress, Season 4 AU)

- A change of clothes (one-shot, smut)

- The Uninvited House Guest

- Home is where (one-shot)

- Danse Macabre (one-shot) mine

- Lay your body next to mine (one-shot, mine, smut, dark themes)

- Symmetry (one-shot)

- Kisses for the Devil (one-shot)

- Descend (one-shot)

- Death and the Maiden

- The Number Is (one-shot)

- The Devil’s Own (warning: dark themes)

- Reality of Innocence (warning:smut)

- Gifts (one-shot)

- Thanaptosis (warning: dark themes)

- Pulse (one-shot)

- Yorick’s grin

- Hades (one-shot)

- Gay (warning:smut)

- Oaths, affidavits and Other Lies

- Brain Drain (one-shot)

- Counting Days (one-shot)

- A conversation starter (one-shot)

- Spinning Tornadoes (one-shot)

- Secret Veins and Arteries (warning:dark themes)

- Watching the world burn (one-shot, smut)

- Death and the Maiden

- Unloveable

- Sweet Dreams (one-shot)

- Frozen Feelings

- Forever and Always

- I will burn the heart out of you

- Choke (one-shot)

- His Dark Mistress (one-shot)

- He saved the last dance for me

- Exsanguination (one-shot, very kinky smut)

- Almost Anyone (one-shot)

- No Space between Us (one-shot, smut)

- Brain Drain (one-shot)

- Between the bars (one-shot, smut)

- Troubleshooting (one-shot, smut)

- Falling (one-shot, smut)

- Knots in this noose of mine (one-shot)

- Glass shatters softly (one-shot)

- Victor, meet spoils (one-shot)

- He kindly stopped me (one-shot)

- Blow the House Down (one-shot)

- The answer is one (one-shot)

- Strings (one-shot)

- Heartbeats in the Dark

- The Fox (one-shot, smut)

- Bad Romance

- Lion and the Lamb (one-shot)

- Red Song in the Night

- The Rules Are (one-shot)

- Molly Mine (one-shot, smut)

- Restless Things (warning: very dark themes + Johnlock)

- Intention (one-shot)

- At the End of it all (one-shot, smuttish)

- An Incorrect Deduction

#jim moriarty #molly hooper #molliarty #sherlock #fic recs

26 notes · View notes

boyfriend-cal · 5 years

Text

The Man Who Can’t Be Moved – Calum Hood

Description: Based on the song by The Script. Calum continues a tradition of yours even after you break up.

Word Count: 3k

masterlist - taglist - requests are open (i don’t write smut!)

Your feet land on the concrete one after another, hoping to finally beat Calum to the coffee shop you both knew and loved. It never happened because he always got off work before you did, but today your meeting ended early, and you hoped he’d been running late.

As soon as you turn the next corner, the shop is at the next corner, and you feel like you might’ve made it. An old lady grumbles at you as you barely miss her shoulder, but you continue to move even while you throw an apology at her.

Rounding the final corner, you come to a halt when you see the familiar bright orange sticky note attached to the inside of the window. He beat you again. It reads, “I haven’t seen you yet today, but I know you look as beautiful as ever.”

The familiar handwriting made your heart skip a beat, you knew you’d never be here before him, but that was okay. Calum loved leaving little notes for you to read before you came in, and he was usually standing in line when you entered. That’s why you’re suddenly startled by a hand pressing against the glass next to the note. Next comes Calums face. You giggle before pulling the door open and stepping inside.

He doesn’t waste a moment standing up to greet you, immediately pulling you into a hug. His arms are warm and secure and seem to quickly calm down your heart rate from all the running you just did.

Then Calum steps back, keeping his hands at your shoulders as he looks you up and down. “It looks like I was right. I knew I would be,”

With a flirty wink and a kiss on the cheek, you two settle into the booth that had been claimed as yours over the last two and a half years of your relationship.

“Come on, YN! Just listen to me! I’m not telling you to not take the job, I’m telling you not to leave me. We can make it work. It’s two hours.” Calum raises his voice, but you don’t flinch, you just shake your head.

“It’ll never be only two hours. It would be two hours there and two hours back. It would be trying to figure out what times to leave and what times to return in time to get all my work done. After we get comfortable with that, I might even blow it off some. I can’t risk that. This job is a big deal, and I need to focus on it right now, not us.” You picked up your bags that were packed because no matter where this conversation went, you were leaving today.

“That just means I’m not worth the effort. It’s not that hard to travel on the weekends, I could come to you more often than you came to me if that would make you happier. Please.” Calum begs. You’d willed away your tears until now. Until you see his finally spill over his cheeks.

“Don’t do that to me. You know I love and care about you more than I can explain. That means you also know that I absolutely suck at dealing with change and I’m going to need to adjust. It’s going to be difficult enough to balance all the new things, much less when I’m going to see you again. It’s best if we end this now.” Your hand wipes furiously at your tears, and you turn toward the door.

“Then don’t take the job, stay here where we live comfortably, and we love each other, and we both feel at home.” His words are soft and come out at barely a whisper. You don’t look back at him. You know that if you do, you’ll stay.

That wasn’t going to happen. You told yourself you were stronger than this, and you believed you were. This job had been something you’d been working toward for years, even before you met Calum. He knew that. You wished that this dream included him, but you knew if you took him with you that you’d always revert to the one thing that made you comfortable. You’d always lean on him when the new job was tough or scary. You couldn’t, and didn’t want to, do that.

“I can’t. I’m sorry, Calum.” With those last four words, you walked out of the door.

Five and a half months later, you don’t think about Calum too often. You’d changed your number, deleted all photos of him, and removed everyone associated with him off of your social media pages. It wasn’t the result of being bitter, because you weren’t, you just really needed that separation. You knew yourself too well, and you’d be damned if you let yourself spend time trying to find out what he’s doing through various people’s profiles.

You can’t lie and say he hasn’t crossed your mind at all, because he has. It’s almost impossible to avoid thinking about him when you see something that has such a strong memory connected to it, like orange sticky notes.

One of them fell out of your bag a couple of days ago, and you still hadn’t thrown it away. Why not? You didn’t know. You had already thrown away the others you’d kept over the three years of your relationship. For now, you left it between the pages of the book in your hand and turned back to your laptop to work.

The new job was rough at first, but now it’s all your dreams come true. You’d fallen into a routine like you knew you would. It was all thanks to the fact that you had no choice but to put yourself out there and make new friends. Even your new roommate complimented you on handling it with ease. Hannah was loud and obnoxious, but it made it fun to be around her when you’re the complete opposite.

She got excited about the tiniest things, so it wasn’t abnormal for her to burst through the door, eyes wide, gasping about something you have to see.

“What are you on about today? It’s always something different.” You laugh, moving your laptop to the coffee table and pat the seat next to her.

“There’s some guy that’s been trying to win his girlfriend back, and they’re giving him until the end of the week before he has to stop. Oh, wait, it says this Sunday would’ve been like another half-year anniversary. Isn’t that depressing? Why can’t they just let them stay, maybe she’ll come back.” Hannah curls into a ball next to you, eyes way to close to her phone screen. She hasn’t let you see the article yet, but your brain is already working on trying and figuring out the dates.

Sunday would mark three and a half years for you and Calum if you didn't leave. If you’d been willing to at least try to keep the relationship while you adjusted, but you didn’t. There’s such a small chance that the article could be about him. You two had lived in a small town together, there wasn’t anything exciting happening ever, which meant he wouldn’t make the news for trying to get you back.

“Let me see, I bet if she wanted to go back by now, she would’ve.” You push on her head, so she moves to the side and holds her phone up to you. After taking it, you start at the top of the article, and your breath automatically hitches in your throat.

“The man says he waits here every day from four to five, the time when the couple would typically sit down for an afternoon latte. What’s different about this is that he writes a sticky note every single day. He says it was a tradition of sorts that he started, he’d leave it on the window and then get in line to order the coffee so she’d see it and know he was there when she got there.

Sadly, the coffee shop is telling him he can no longer leave sticky notes because they’re everywhere at this point. Only time will tell if his girl will show up before the deadline or not.”

“Why do you look like you’ve just seen a ghost? Y/N?”

You try to get the words out but you can’t. You try to take a deep breath, but you can’t. It almost feels like your lung has collapsed. You scroll down to see if there are any pictures or names, but there isn’t. It’s way too specific and too close to home for it to not be him. It has to be him, right?

Almost six months. Six months without him and you thought it was fine, you thought you were moving on. Obviously, that’s not the case if you feel like someone just threw a wrecking ball into your chest.

Then again, you could ignore it. Hannah has no idea that you know this man. You could blow it off and pretend you thought it was weird and never speak about it to anyone again.

Could you? Or would it eat you alive thinking that you could’ve fixed everything wrong that you did, and you decided to pretend it never happened?

You gave yourself five days to think about it. The article was posted on Monday, which meant today was the last day he’d show up.

Your watch lets you know that the time is 3:45, and you’re standing right around the corner of the coffee shop. Still, you could turn around, but you don’t. You imagine that Calum usually gets here around this time or a few minutes later, so you had to prepare yourself in case he’s already inside.

As soon as you step past the corner, onto the sidewalk right in front of your window, your breath is taken away again. From the floor up to the top of the window, it’s covered in orange sticky notes. You can’t even see in anymore. There are a couple of people who’ve stopped to read some of them, so you decide to head inside.

Another deep breath in and out before you open the door. The familiar bell rings above your head, and you’re hit with the warmth of familiarity. It looks like it did the last day you were there. Tears are already welling in your eyes, how could you move two hours away and pretend like none of this was ever not important to you? Pretend like this part of your life never happened?

Then your eyes meet Brooke’s, the barista. She’s surprised to see you after all this time. You’re a little bit surprised that you’re actually here. All she has to do is nod in the direction of your booth for you to give her a small smile and turn around.

Your jaw drops, not only is the window covered but so is the tabletop, the benches, the seatbacks, they’re almost overflowing the small area that the booth provides. You make your way over and start to read all of the notes.

“Please come back.”

“I love you, then, now, and forever.”

“I bet you look so pretty today.”

“Duke misses you.”

“I miss you.”

“I hope you had an amazing day.”

Among what felt like millions, they all tugged at your heartstrings. Someone behind you taps on your shoulder, you whirl around to see Brooke holding a mason jar that’s full of more sticky notes.

“These are the ones that fall off, and customers pick them up to bring them to us. Some of them have been stepped on or crumpled up, but you can still read them. It’s excellent to see you again.” She places a hand on your shoulder and gives you a reassuring squeeze. After you and Calum had become regulars here, Brooke had become one of your good friends. There was a short period after the breakup that you thought maybe she and Calum would date at some point. Looking back now, it seems like that was just your mind trying to convince you that Calum would be okay without you.

She whisks away, wiping down a few tables before she returns to her post behind the counter. The place isn’t empty like it used to be around this time, and you bet that she’s grateful for that since she owns it. You also wonder if they’re regulars or if they were brought in by the publicity of the article you saw.

Your fingers tap against the edge of the table, moving a few notes to read ones that are buried underneath. You can’t believe he went to the extent of writing you a note every single day since you left. It was something he would do, though, he puts his all into everything he chooses to, and you happened to be one of those things.

The bell above the door rings again, and you turn to see that it’s exactly who you came here for. Calum has bulked up a little bit since you last saw him, but he looks good. He’s added rings to his fingers, and you think you spot a new tattoo on the back of his arm when he holds the door open for someone leaving.

Suddenly you feel a little bit awkward, unsure of what you should do. Should you approach Calum or wait for him to come over? He nods at you and then points to the counter as if asking if you want anything. You nod and start to step forward so you can pay for yours, but he holds up a hand.

“Sit, and I’ll get it.”

You opt for the booth next to yours because it’s full. You stare at a few more of the sticky notes and realize that these are all reasons that you shouldn’t have gone.

Just moments later Calum sits down across from you, not beside you like he used to. He pushes a hot coffee mug across the table at you and says your coffee order. He remembered it to a tee, even though it wasn’t super complicated.

“How’d you know I’d be here?” He says quietly, he still hasn’t looked you in the eye. Calum is big on eye contact, and he used to always tell you how pretty your eyes were.

“My roommate actually. She came in gushing about how some poor guy was waiting on his ex-girlfriend after six months.” You smile lightly, hoping Calum picks up on the joke and he does.

“So I take it that she didn’t know a lot about us?” Cal sips his drink, and you shake your head.

“I tried to separate this part of my life with that part. I thought forgetting about it and pretending it never happened would make it easier.” You sighed, realizing how stupid and selfish it sounds when you say it out loud.

“How’d that work for you?” He asks, raising his eyebrows but he’s not judging you, he’s curious.

“Well, I’m here, right?” You chuckle, “It was stupid, and I was wrong to leave ‘us’ behind.”

In all seriousness, it was terrifying to sit across from him and say those words. Even though he had sat here for an hour every day and waited for you didn’t necessarily mean he’d take you back happily.

Calum doesn’t say anything, so you continue to talk. “Like, I adjusted well, and I’ve been working my ass off so much that I already got a promotion and a pay raise. I have new friends, a nice place to live, and all of these things that I wanted. Then I saw the article on Monday, and I’ve been thinking about it for a week trying to decide if it just stirred up old feelings or if I really wasn’t happy.”

When you look up, he’s finally looking at you. His chocolate brown eyes look sad, and they’re filled to the brim with tears. Your heart drops. Seeing him in front of you like this allows your mind to imagine that he probably looked just as pitiful the day you left and refused to turn around. The image of him becomes blurry as tears form in your eyes as well.

“Still trying to figure out if you came here to tell me that waiting on you is pointless, or-“

His lips quiver, but he chuckles to try and lift the mood. The breath of air that leaves his lips causes the tears to fall down his face. He can’t help the frown that forms as he cries. It’s all it takes for you to start crying as well.

You reach your hand across the table, taking one of his into both of yours. “Hey, hey. I came here because I love you. I wouldn’t have come if I intended to hurt you, you know that.”

Calum nods, gaining his composure with a deep breath. You reach forward to wipe underneath his eyes with your thumb.

“Can we go home?” He says weakly. You nod this time, standing up and motioning for him to as well.

“We can, but first we’re going to have to clean up this grand romantic gesture of yours.” You laugh to lighten things between you, and when his smile spreads across his cheeks, you know you’re successful.

“Geez, my bad.” Calum holds up his hands in defense as he continues to laugh.

It doesn’t take long when you work together to pull all of the sticky notes off the various surfaces they’re stuck to. You insist on keeping them even though Calum says that you shouldn’t. You catch him looking at a few and then trying to sneak them into the trash when you’re not looking.

After all of them are folded and tucked into a few mason jars (courtesy of Brooke), you bid your goodbyes to her and let her know that you won’t be a stranger anymore. There are a lot of things that you and Calum have to figure out considering your new job and the fact that it’s two hours away, but right now, none of that matters.

What matters most is that you’re with the man that you love again.

“Oh my god, Duke is going to be so excited when you walk through that door.” Calum laughs but pulls you closer with his arm that’s already wrapped around your shoulder.

“I’ll have my two favorite boys right by my side. That’s exactly where I want to be right now.”

taglist: @mikeyglifford @calumsnatchedmyheart @aulxna @sebastian-sunshine-stan

#calum hood #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #calum hood one shot #calum hood imagine #calum hood blurb #fanfic #imagine #blurb #oneshot #calum hood x reader #5sos #5 seconds of summer #kris10 writes

63 notes · View notes

rosethornewrites · 4 years

Text

Fic: the thing with feathers, ch. 3

Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn & Yú Zǐyuān, Jiāng Fēngmián & Yú Zǐyuān

Additional Tags: Transmigration, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Illnesses, Family, Scars

Summary: The Lans arrive. QiRen's perspective.

Note: You get bitties! And hand holding! And grumpy old man perspective! So enjoy! This chapter draws off a scene in the donghua. Also, I am having a problem with shifting tenses, which is in part because my other fics are in present tense and I’m a dipshit who decided this one should be in past tense. Any mistakes are my fault.

AO3 link

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

---------

Lan QiRen did not like the idea of taking his nephews with him to Lotus Pier, not if there had been an attack of resentful energy. But the fact that Jiang FengMian’s adopted son was calling for one of them in the throes of fever after the attack…

He had no idea how the boy could know WangJi, especially enough to call for him by his birth name. QiRen recalled the boy was CangSe SanRen’s son, named Wei Ying. The cultivation world had gossiped idly that his father must be Jiang FengMian for him to take the boy in, but such idle talk was more than likely ridiculous.

QiRen did not have the fondest memories of CangSe SanRen, but he would not leave a young child to suffer over a grudge against a dead woman—such grudges were forbidden, regardless. And truly his heart went out to a child who was orphaned so young. The decision to send help was immediate; his decision to join the retinue was carefully considered.

Ultimately, after passing duties to appropriate elders, he brought a contingent from Cloud Recesses that included his nephews, the head healer, and several accomplished musicians familiar with both songs of cleansing and those of healing.

While flying with children was usually something he would not consider, the message from Yunmeng Jiang had come on their swiftest flyer, and he had clearly exhausted his spiritual energy to speed the trip. This combined with the contents of the message made it clear time was of the essence.

QiRen himself was the most experienced flyer and thus insisted WangJi ride with him. Though XiChen had started to ride ShuoYue, Yunmeng was too far for the boy; he had the head healer, Lan ShiRong, carry him.

GusuLan was among the closest sects to YunmengJiang, and so the flight was relatively short. Of course, relatively short for a child was not so, but neither boy complained and QiRen praised both for their discipline during the flight. Dusk had already fallen, night quickly on its way.

They were immediately escorted by several disciples, one of whom broke off to fetch Sect Leader Jiang. The youths looked shaken and unsteady, but still performed their duties with efficiency. Jiang FengMian and Yu ZiYuan had clearly trained them well.

FengMian met them at the main hall, greeting them with as much decorum as possible.

“Master QiRen, thank you for coming. I apologize for the lack of a proper greeting. In other circumstances, tea and conversation would be appropriate.”

QiRen waved the concern off. “The healers should see to the boy immediately. Please, lead us.”

He hadn’t seemed to notice the children, QiRen noted, and he could only assume the boy’s condition was not good for FengMian to overlook such a detail. Normally he would prefer to keep his nephews away from this sort of situation, but if this Wei Ying was calling for WangJi, it was best to determine how he knew of him sooner rather than later.

FengMian quickly led them to the infirmary, explaining along the way, “Healer Kang is trying to bring the fever down. He believes a-Ying’s body is fighting the resentful energy, but we have no way of knowing.”

He was leading them at a speed just short of a jog, and his voice betrayed his worry.

“‘Cleansing’ May help,” QiRen mused. “But Healer Lan will want to examine him as well—the damage that can be done by resentful energy cannot be taken lightly.”

Upon entering the healing pavilion, QiRen had to pause for a moment. The boy lay prone on the examining table, clad only in a light shift with cooling talismans affixed. Ugly scars marred his legs.

Even at his young age he looked so much like CangSe SanRen, it was almost painful to look at him. She had been a prankster, had shaved his beard while he slept, but she had been so full of joy and life and it had been a blow to learn the world had lost such a light.

A low moan from the boy had Healer Lan moving around him, hurrying to the patient, immediately starting to tap his hands across Wei Ying’s meridians in the practiced movement of one used to examining and healing qi. The child seemed nearly delirious, whimpering unintelligible murmurs, limbs twitching, tears streaking his face.

“The children were… upset with his condition. ZiYuan is keeping them away from the infirmary.”

QiRen turned to FengMian. “Your missive said he was calling a name.”

FengMian nodded to the Jiang healer, who gently removed a needle from the boy’s forehead. Almost immediately, he cried out, writhing and reaching out, and QiRen realized they’d had him sedated. Dangerous for one so young, but if he had been like this for hours...

“Lan Zhan. Please don’t leave me, Lan Zhan.”

The words were broken by sobs.

WangJi stepped forward, a strange look on his face. He seemed almost drawn to the boy, but QiRen was shocked when his nephew took Wei Ying’s hand. He could hear FengMian take a surprised breath, as though he had just realized who ‘Lan Zhan’ was.

“I am here.”

His nephew, who eschewed touch and rarely spoke, was doing both now.

The child’s eyelids fluttered, his face turning toward his voice, though his eyes never fully opened.

“Lan Zhan,” came out in a relieved whisper. “Don’t go.”

“I will not.”

There was a soft exhale, and the boy went still, his breath deepening.

The Jiang healer looked relieved at the change. QiRen could only guess this meant Wei Ying had likely struggled and cried out like that most of the time since the attack when not sedated.

“You recognize him,” XiChen said, the first he had spoken in hours, and QiRen noted it wasn’t a question.

“Yiling,” WangJi’s answered simply.

“Is he the one you gave the rattle drum to, a-Zhan?”

WangJi nodded.

QiRen remembered his nephew going missing for the span of about half an hour, and finding him without the toy, but he hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, too relieved to have found him. Clearly he had told his brother more. Somehow in that short time he had found Wei Ying and never spoken of it to him. If he had, QiRen could have acted.

“That was three years ago, WangJi,” QiRen murmured.

“Three years?” Fengmian looked pale. “I only found him just over a year ago. He was on the streets so long…”

No one really knew exactly when CangSe SanRen and her husband had died. Neither their bodies nor their weapons had been found, and though everyone knew they must have died it was only due to their disappearance.

QiRen knew FengMian had searched for a year before finding the boy, but knowing he had been subject to homelessness for at least twice as long was horrifying.

“WangJi is sorry. WangJi should have told shufu. Shufu would have helped.”

His nephew’s tone was more emotional than it had been since his mother’s death, his hand still holding Wei Ying’s. QiRen felt frozen, inept, unable to comfort the boy now just as he had failed then.

FengMian stepped forward, kneeling to come level to WangJi and place a hand on his shoulder.

“You would have if you had known he needed help, right?” he asked, his voice gentle.

WangJi nodded.

“Then you did all you knew to do. A-Ying won’t blame you for that. Your gift probably brought him joy.” FengMian offered a small smile. “We cannot change the past, young master. We can only strive to improve ourselves in the future.”

WangJi’s gaze moved to the scars on Wei Ying’s legs.

“He was hurt.”

“By dogs,” FengMian says softly. “Not by you.”

QiRen repressed the urge to wince. So many scars from dogs, living on the streets. The boy’s survival was a miracle.

WangJi only frowned, and QiRen was relieved when his brother stepped forward, smiling gently.

“A-Zhan, you can be a-Ying’s friend now and help him get better. He was calling for you, and you helped him already.”

That seemed to do the trick, mollifying WangJi, and his expression turned resolute. Of course XiChen would know—giving WangJi a task to complete would help him.

“Sect Leader Jiang?” Healer Lan interrupted. He was standing at the head of the examination table, his hands on Wei Ying’s temples. “The resentful energy seems to have… for lack of a better word, gathered in his head.”

FengMian stood, alarm apparent on his face, and QiRen couldn’t find fault in that; maladies of the mind were hard to treat, the complexities of the brain too little understood even in the cultivation world.

“We should start ‘Cleansing’ as soon as possible,” the healer continued, “to remove as much as possible, but also play songs of healing as well. The resentful energy is too thick to see what damage may have been done. The fever is his body trying to fight the invasion.”

QiRen nodded to the musicians to get started, then turned to his nephews. “We should have a repast and rest. It is nearly hai, and the journey has been long.”

To his surprise, WangJi shook his head, shifting closer to the examination table and Wei Ying.

“Promised. Won’t go.”

Stubborn. Why did the boy have to be so obstinate? QiRen could only be reminded of the habit only just broken—of WangJi kneeling in front of his late mother’s seclusion house every month, refusing to accept her death.

Truth be told, Qiren wasn’t certain it was wise to let WangJi get attached to Wei Ying, with his condition so uncertain. He mourned so deeply. But he knew it was too late the moment his nephew stepped forward to take the boy’s hand.

The Jiang healer stepped forward placatingly. “We have beds in the next room. If the young master wishes to sleep here, it could be arranged. A light meal can be sent for him.”

“Only your nephew has been able to calm a-Ying,” FengMian added. “His presence may comfort him if he wakes, or if the fever worsens.”

QiRen took a breath, finding his center and exhaling slowly. He could not make a liar of his nephew.

“For tonight. WangJi, you must abide the healers, and stay out of their way.”

He waited only for a nod of acknowledgement, then beckoned XiChen to the door.

#cql #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #untamed fanfiction #lan qiren #lan zhan #lan wangji #lan xichen #jiang fengmian #wei wuxian #wei ying #chen qing ling

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