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hellfirecvnt · 4 days ago

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Don't Piss me Off (Pt. 2)

John Q. (Simon) X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, oral (female receiving), "public" sex, unprotected sex (don't do that), poor life choices.

Summary: You still can't stand sticking around your parents for too long, but you stay in town for a while longer just to see him play. PART ONE IS HERE!!

Notes: I love him. I'm gonna write a million versions of the same story I stg. I didn't proof read. I got like 6 ideas at once and they're all getting written at the same time.

In the basement of a warehouse you'd assume abandoned, Simon and his band consisting of a handful of less ill-tempered, but just as dirty and dead-looking men set up for their performance. They're all spitting insults at each other as they scramble to plug in each meticulous piece of shoddy equipment they've acquired.

Simon's preoccupied. Clearly stuck on the thought of you. He realized hours ago that he never told you about the show tonight. He's wrapping the wire of the mic around his fist when he overhears the stagehands. "I didn't make it to Y/N's last party, I figured there would at least be one more before she bolted."

"She went back home?" Simon interrupts.

"Yeah, man. She left today, I'm pretty sure." The stagehands hoist a large amp to its spot, leaving Simon in the silence of realizing you two have no way of contacting each other. That's it. He shrugs his shoulders, brushing off any disappointment, as he's used to things falling through. Nothing's special to someone like him, or that's what he tells himself. He reaches into his back pocket and reveals a pair of underwear that had gotten tangled with his clothes when you did his laundry. He chuckles at the thought of how he would've made you think he stole them on purpose. He stuffs them back into his pocket and gets ready to perform as people start piling in the small venue.

You're nearly flooring it back to that gas station. Once inside, you leap over the counter and snatch the poster from the wall. "God damn! You could've just asked for the fucking flyer, man!" The cashier exclaims, certain you were attempting to rob the store.

"I don't have time!" You yell behind you as you sprint out the door. "Old fuckin' Mill building? Where the fuck is that?" You mumble to yourself, frustrated. You read that Psyops isn't set to play for another 30 minutes, so you speed around town to every old and decrepit site you can find. Four failures before you find the warehouse hosting the show tonight. "Finally!" You slam the van in park before bolting to the door.

"It's $10 to get in," a nonchalant man at the door huffs. You shove the money into his hand and he opens the large, black, graffitied door behind him. You're not shy in a crowd, so when you hear the boisterous speakers blasting the sound of guitar riffs through the building, you start shoving. The vibration sends the decently sized crowd into a wave of cheers and you finally make your way toward the front. You can hear a voice over the speakers, Simon. It's hard to make out what he's saying, but once the song starts, the crowd starts moving.

You're being jostled around for most of the set. Song after song, you try to force yourself to the front, but to no avail. Finally, once Simon takes one step off the slightly raised platform on which they're performing, you can reach him. His grip is white-knuckled around the microphone, now's your chance. You lunge forward and wrap a hand around the mic, pulling yourself forward. Confused and annoyed by the sudden tugging, Simon pulls back, effectively breaking through the wall of people blocking you. The moment your eyes meet his, under his ski mask, he grins. In the moment bringing you before him, he'd missed a few bars of the song, but effortlessly picks back up once you're front and center.

It feels like his eyes are locked on you for the rest of their set. You hate to admit it, but it's a hell of a show. The energy of the crowd, their presence on stage. No wonder Simon feels so strongly about it. He's a different person when he's John Q. An alias you found out about when you were seniors, and you hoped staying quiet about it would've shown him you weren't the snitch, but instead it took a coke bender several, several years later. Plus, he wasn't much less of a loser than you were. Who fucking cared back then that he has a stage name?

After Psyops' set, you and Simon slip outside for a smoke. Riled up from the show, he's too abuzz to make sure his face matches the angry stare he usually wears. "Someone said you were headed home already, didn't think I'd see you at a show any time soon," he says, lighting a cigarette.

"Said I would," you echo his words from his promise to back you up next time you got yourself into an altercation. "Can't let fucking John Q. be more trustworthy than me." Simon laughs at the mention of his stage persona. "I like the mask, though."

"Oh, yeah? That do somethin' for you?" He teases, reaching into his pocket for the mask, but pulling out a different wad of fabric. "Oops," he laughs, dangling your panties in front of you.

"Is that my fuckin' underwear, you god damn pervert?" You curl your lip, put off by the invasive behavior.

"They might be yours, I don't know. I get a lot pussy." Simon smirks with his eyes darkened on you.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck-" you're ready to lay into him, too violated to make any excuses despite how attractive he looks with messy hair and drying sweat.

"Calm the fuck down, they got mixed up with my shit when you washed my clothes at your house," he laughs. You roll your eyes and jump to grab them, but he's too quick. You miss the swipe and are now a great deal closer to him. "I'm gonna hold on to these," he says with a low voice as he scoops you against him with a hand placed on the small of your back. A second passes like an eternity and the two of you lock lips as he stuffs your underwear into his pocket again, allowing some of the silk and lace detail to hang out. As the kiss deepens, his hands move down your body, to your thighs before he grips your ass roughly. Soft moans escape against his lips as he gropes various parts of your curves.

"Do you know how worked up you get me?" He whispers between the press of your kiss. "Thought you left before I could get a taste." He reaches for your eyelet belt, but you stop him.

"Someone's gonna see us."

"Call it an encore," he mumbles before going back at your belt, but you swat him away again.

"At least take me around back, dumbass." You grab a fistful of his shirt and nearly drag him around the corner. It's dark and concealed from any passerby. He lifts you up onto a pad-mounted transformer and wraps your legs around him, still moving his head in sync with yours as each of your tongues explore each other's mouths.

"I guess I was kind of a prick to you back in the day, huh?" He whispers, running his hand through your hair.

"You were an angry piece of shit, yeah. We fuckin' or having a breakthrough?"

"Shut the fuck up for a second," he snaps. "I'm trying to apologize." He slips your denim shorts off your legs and all but falls to his knees in front of the large metal, green box you're sat on. His nimble index finger hooks around your thong and pulls it to the side. You barely have time to process what his "apology" will be before he plunges his head between your thighs. You fight to stifle a surprised moan as he conducts his skillful movements against your sensitive skin.

"Simon, oh, my God!" You whine, arching your back against the friction. He laughs against your skin sending waves of vibrations through your legs. One of his hands is occupied holding your panties to the side, the other is hooked around your hip, holding you securely in place as he meticulously works you over the edge.

"You want me to stop?" He asks, lips framed with drenched facial hair.

"No! No, I-" he cuts off your plea, resuming his position.

"Then stop fighting me," he snaps, harshly pinning you to the metal with the hand he had hooked on your hip. The stimulation quickly builds up, becoming too much, too quickly. You throw your head back and tangle a fist in his hair as he guides you through the high. Your legs shake and threaten to close around him, but his grip is too strong. You remain exactly where he wants you until you've ridden out your orgasm. You're slumped back on your elbows with your head down, breathing heavily as you return to reality.

Simon towers over you where you lay, staring down at you with his dark-circled eyes. You look up and watch him teasingly wipe his mouth, licking his lips like you're the first thing he's devoured in months. He slips your shorts halfway up your legs for you, leaving the rest of the work for whenever you can feel your legs again. "Um," you sigh. "Apology accepted."

"Tits."

"Is 'tits' good?" You furrow your eyebrows. He sighs, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

"You're leaving tonight, huh?" Simon lights a cigarette.

"Well... That's the plan." You feel a pit in your stomach when you think about going back home. The place is nice, it's far away. It's what you wanted, but life is full and meaningless. You don't have friends out there, it didn't strike you how hard it'd be to meet people in your mid 20s.

"You don't sound so sure about that plan, Y/N." He exhales a cloud that illuminates under the street lamp's orange glow.

"It's boring out there, but it's quiet. It's peaceful. My parents aren't in my ear telling me trying something new could kill me." You shrug.

"That's why you're running? Because of your frigid bitch mom and dad?" Simon laughs as if it's the funniest thing he's ever heard.

"Okay, well. You know, maybe don't call them that or I'll lay you the fuck out, but yeah." You stand and fasten your shorts and belt, knees still threatening to buckle. "You had a hand in me leaving too."

"I know, I apologized!" He gestures to your trembling legs and you laugh.

"Yeah, yeah," you wave your hand at him. "Where'd you go? I was in town for weeks. I thought you were in the pin."

"I didn't want to overstay my welcome," he chuckles. "Or watch another fuckin' 80s movie with the volume on ten." He turns to look at you and he smirks.

"Well, my parents are in town now. I still have the rest of this week off. I was gonna spend it getting unpacked, but-"

"Fuck that. Let's go, you're driving." He walks off around the building toward the parking lot and you're dumbfounded for a moment.

"Of course I'm driving, it's my van!" You scramble after him. He hops in your passenger seat and you pull out of the lot, leaving his disgruntled band mates to pack up their own equipment. "You're not gonna help them?"

"What for? My shit's in the van. It's a microphone."

"Yeesh, sorry. Forgot you're actually kind of the worst when your head's not between my legs," you tease and Simon can't suppress a smile. As you cruise down the dark road, bright blue lights ignite in your mirrors. "Fuck. Get it the back." Simon wastes no time, he throws himself in the spacious rear area of the van as you pull over. You both wait anxiously for the cop to approach the window. Everything feels silent, until you finally hear the footsteps.

"I'm gonna run," Simon whispers, hand on the rear door latch.

"Don't." You demand sharply, rolling down your window for the cop. The air feels still and tight. It seems like it takes hours for the cop to speak, but when he does it's a routine traffic stop. He asks you if you knew how fast you were going and you innocently explain the floating nature of your speedometer. The officer laughs when he reads your ID and sees your last name.

"You're Frank's kid, right?"

"Yeah, his one and only." You beam, proudly. Happy to name drop your wealthy family.

"You just try to slow it down and tell your dad I said hello, alright?" The cop taps your door twice and sends you on your way. As you pull off, Simon peeks out from under the blankets and sighs with relief.

"Holy shit, with the way this thing looks, you should've been strip searched." Simon tosses himself back into the passenger seat.

"Don't shit-talk my van," you hiss. Simon proceeds to tell you where to go, each turn and shortcut, until you reach a large white house, almost as status defining as your parents'.

"My parents are out of town." He points to a concealed area to park and leads you to a basement door. He fights with a key for a moment before leading you inside. It's a messy basement room with red walls and posters from ceiling to floor. Instruments take up most of the space, aside from the bed.

"Do you avoid your parents like me, or do your parents avoid you?" You ask, bluntly, not considering the weight of that question.

"Both, I guess." He says after a long pause.

"You... Wanna smoke?" You ask, unsure how to navigate the silence.

"Can't. Fucks with my motivation," he grins. You shrug, rolling and smoking a joint by yourself while Simon works on some songs. He's got an ear for every instrument in his room, and he layers them over each other, creating complex instrumentals. It's nice to listen to while you lie on his bed and watch the swirling tendrils of smoke twist into the light and air above you.

"It sounds nice," you hum, settling into the cozy divot in the center of his mattress-on-the-floor.

"Write something for it," he commands, tossing a notepad and pen at you.

"Like lyrics? Why?" You stare at the blank page, unable to read the layers and layers of writing indented into it from Simon's heavy, angry hand.

"You need an out, I'm giving you one." He leans back in the rolling chair he resides in, staring me down like a hawk.

"I don't think I'm a very musical person. I think I'm more of a doodler, really," you argue, scribbling in the corner of the paper.

"Just fuckin' write something down and stop being a pussy." He snatches the pen from you and tosses it onto the pad.

"Bitch- How does that make me a pussy?" Your eyes narrow at him.

"It'd be too vulnerable. You're no tougher than that kid you were in high school. It's all fake now." It's clear he's taunting you. Making a fair attempt at reverse psychology.

"Fuck you, give me a minute," you huff, writing a line or two to start with. "Play your shit again." And he does. Restarting the instrumental he put together just for you. After a while, you've written something and you sling the notepad at Simon. He takes a moment to read through it a few times, almost trying to decode the melody of how I'd sang it in my head.

"Perfect. Now sing it." He nods toward his microphone stand.

"Fuck's sake, dude. Are you serious?" You whine, pushed further and further out of your comfort zone.

"Come on, let's see what you got," he says in a tone that lets me know I've already lost the argument.

"It doesn't feel good to be vulnerable to you."

"Tough it out." You roll your eyes at his demand, but you do it. You tough it out and recite your song over the music he provided. He hits 'restart,' and then 'record,' and then he points to you. After a measure you begin to sing. Low effort, but still angelic. Your song is about the feeling of being homesick no matter where you end up. It's about running and putting up a face as a defense mechanism. It's about wearing a mask.

When you're done singing and the music fades out, Simon slides the headphones off his ears. "That... Was tits." He looks elated. Like a poor painter with a new pallet.

"Is 'tits' good?" You ask again, emphasizing the lack of answer last time you asked.

"Yeah, 'tits' is good." He grins. "That was good."

"Fuck you. Who's not vulnerable?" You curl your lip, clearly more moved by the challenge than the release he was offering. Simon just shakes his head.

"Let's mix it." He beelines for the computer and begins fine tuning the song. You're watching in awe of his quick skill at this craft. As if watching him play all those instruments wasn't impressive enough. The night grows older. Simon offers you your favorite party favor, but you're over it. So the two of you share a joint.

"You don't ever get tired of living in a circle?" You ask through a cloud of smoke.

"A fuckin' circle?" He looks at you.

"Just, still in this town, still avoiding your parents, still making music alone in your room."

"Fuck," he huffs, offended but acknowledging the truth in your words. "Do you ever get tired of running from it?"

"Touché." You bring the joint to your lips as you lie in his disheveled bed. His arm snaked around you ages ago, slowly pulling you closer and closer to him. Like he's worried you'll float away.

"If our only two options are run away or get sucked into this shit hole of a town, I think we're a little fucked, don't you?" He chuckles to himself.

"Maybe those aren't the only options. We just don't have all the answers yet. I don't think anyone does." Your voice is wistful and quiet. You can feel Simon's eyes on you, but you stare at his dark ceiling. He rolls his eyes at your corny words, but he knows you're right. "It's funny, because if I could run from the uncertainty too, I would." You giggle, aware of your vices and poor coping skills.

"Yeah, you would," Simon mocks.

"And you? You're just going to live with it? Sit right beside the discomfort and accept that for yourself? Have you ever tried to give yourself more, even if it meant running?" You're slowly building up a sense of passion behind your words and Simon just listens, staring deeply into your eyes as you speak. Suddenly, you're cut off when he wraps a hand around the back of your head and pulls you into a kiss. His lips crash into yours and the two of you melt into each other.

You can't even remember what you were saying, you just know you don't want to stop touching him. The heat of the kiss begins to swell as Simon's hands trail up and down your body. He's grabbing at you in a specific order, like he's been waiting to get his hands on it. Really get his hands on it. You grasp at the hem of his shirt, tugging in semblance to take it the fuck off, and he does.

His broad, pale chest rises and falls with anticipation as you strip off the same article of clothing. "Jesus Christ," he moans, pulling you to him to shove his face directly between your breasts. He breathes deeply, taking you in. With one swift motion, he's hoisted you on top of him, your legs straddling his waist. Simon unfastens the button on your jeans before tossing you to the side to undress you.

You're both naked and greatly anticipating the next moment your skin will touch. Seconds feel like hours until you're pressed against each other again. Simon buries his face in the crook of your neck as he guides his throbbing erection to your entrance. You're squirming and arching beneath him, and he releases a breathy laugh as he watches you writhe. "You're aching for it," he groans.

"Fuck you," you hiss, pulling him closer to you by his shoulders. All he does is chuckle before slowly slipping inside you. You moan loudly as you adjust to his size. Something about a lanky, dead-eyed man. His pace is steady as he rocks his hips against yours, picking up speed as you gush around him. Soon his thrusts are hard and rough, and your loud, vulgar moans echo off his bedroom walls.

"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he huffs, pulling out of you and tossing you aside. Simon quickly repositions you in front of him, on all fours. You let your back arch naturally, putting on a bit of a show for him as he watches you. His eyes are darkened and his smirk sends chills down your spine. You can't help but smile wide in excitement. With two round hands, he grabs your waist and positions you at the perfect height. His hands wander the soft flesh of your ass as you press up against him. "You drive me fucking crazy..." He sighs as he slips inside you.

Simon digs the tips of his fingers into your skin, pulling you against him with every violent thrust. You do everything you can to contort your body to give him more of you. He throws his head back, falling into a sloppy, unsteady pace. His breathing is wild and primal all the way up until the point of climax. You release a loud, fluttering moan as he fucks you through your high, quickly withdrawing to finish on your back and ass. You're both breathless for a while, the room is silent but for the sound of your lungs filling and deflating.

Simon climbs off the bed, but you're too fucked out to even raise your head up to watch where he's going. Moments later, he returns, towel in hand. He cleans you up and lands a hard smack on your right ass cheek. The sound is thunderous against the silence. You yelp and break into quiet chuckles.

Finally, you have the strength to roll over. You sit up against the mess of pillows that became a sort of headboard for his bed, feeling beautiful and bare before him. It's a nice feeling that you're not used to. Sure you've had your flings, but it's never occurred to you how quickly you tend to leave or cover up after. Not this time. You're both fully exposed and Simon's eyes drink you in, one last time before he speaks. "Don't go back." You stare at him for a long while, silent.

"I won't," you gasp, surprised by your own promise. As soon as the words leave your mouth, his lips are on yours. In the next few days, you quit your job and Simon rides with you to go back and get the most important of your shit. The rest goes with the trailer when you sell it. You don't run a single thing past your parents and you don't tell them you're coming back to town. It's a new sense of peace and adventure, though it feels like abandoning your old life.

After a month of van living, you and Simon get an apartment and constantly receive complaints about the noise, but nothing stops the music overflowing from your floor of the building. A new sense of bliss. It's comfortable now.

#hellfirecvnt #reader insert #john q fanfic #john q #dinner in america simon x reader #simon from dinner in america #simon dinner in america #simon #dinner in america fan fic #dinner in america #john q. smut #john q smut #dinner in america smut #smut #kyle gallner fanfic #kyle gallner

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openworldadventurer · 6 months ago

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I lived in Malmö for six years, so when I heard Eurovision was coming to my old neighborhood, I planned a visit to see friends and watch the festivities in my old park, which was being turned into the “Eurovillage”. Of course, that was before the Oct 7th attacks, Israel’s brutal escalation, and Eurovision’s refusal to hold them to the same standards as Russia.

So while I’ve been in town, I’ve been spending at least as much time checking in with friends and covering the protests as I’ve spent walking around the festivities. And hooboy, the changes to this sleepy little town have been pretty intense.

While the actual arena and filming is being done at Malmö Arena in the commercial suburb of Hyllie, the center of events in the city itself is Folketspark, a lovely old park and event center in the heart of the Möllan neighborhood. And right along one side of the park is a long graffiti wall that runs along a rondel, a cherished centerpiece of public art and protest in the city.

It’s been one of the centerpieces of protest all week, but far from the only one:

Despite the neighborhood being hit hard by gentrification over the last decade, Möllan is still predominantly foreign-born Swedes and immigrants (like me, when I was here). It’s predominantly middle-eastern folks, both immigrants and refugees, including one of the largest Palestinian populations in Europe. It’s also one of the most progressive cities in Sweden, home to the leftist Vänsterpartiet and fairly active queer and antifascist groups. And all of these groups have been uniting for the protests

So as you can expect, the protests around the park and the city have been pretty constant. Entirely peaceful, to everyone’s credit, but absolutely constant. And you can’t go anywhere near the event without seeing Palestinian flags flown from windows and shopfronts in solidarity, or protest graffiti on Eurovision posters.

Meanwhile, the security presence around the Eurovillage has been absolutely wild. In a city where police rarely even carried pistols, there are now approximately ten times as many police, many bearing automatic rifles. When protests threaten to get too close to the park, they shut off entrances and surround protesters with police vans. Helicopters and drones buzz in the skies above, to the annoyance of locals. And local Swedes look at the armored police vehicle like an unwelcome alien from another planet (or worse, like an unwelcome trend from America).

Thankfully, I haven’t seen any particular abuse out here in Malmö, although I know there have been lots of arrests at protests around the arena proper. I’m hoping it stays that way for the finals tonight.

But just know that for every picture you see of the Eurovision events, there’s countless scenes of protest from the local residents, often just on the other side of the camera.

#Malmö #eurovision #free palestine

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glassartpeasants · 7 months ago

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Run Rabbit Run .10

Yandere!Eustass Kid x F!Reader

Warnings: Death, blood mentions, physical abuse, violence, implied non-con, slight non-con, not edited for shit cause it took too long to type in general

A/N: This part is all in the eyes of Kidd so enjoy. I'm so happy for this shit to be finally published cause it took me too fucking long to do. Also working on new writing styles cause i need to be a perfectionist

music playlist

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6 pt.7 pt.8 pt.9 pt.10 pt.11

~~~

“Look at them run! This is gonna be a fun island to ransack.”

“We should find the mayor and ask him where he keeps the town's treasury.”

“Good thinking, Killer.”

Even with the conversation so short, it spoke volumes as the Victoria Punk docks on the island. The beautiful blue skies shone down on the new and upcoming worst-generation supernova. With only a few months under his belt, his name was still feared throughout the south blue. His bounty getting higher and higher with every new poster.

He has yet to lose to any marine or pirate ship. Every battle he wins only makes him all the more feared, and his crew is just as terrifying as himself. Being known for his bloodthirsty ways, people would usually give him their prized possessions just to make sure they stayed clear of his wraith. But even then, sometimes, it wasn’t enough.

“This island is smaller than I thought, but it’s still mostly populated. More people, more treasure.”

“I haven’t seen any marines since we’ve docked, no boats or anything. Do you think this island isn’t under the eye of the world government?”

“Don’t matter to me. If marines try to stop me, I’ll just crush them.” The sinister chuckle that left the man’s lips made even the strongest marine tremble. Now, with a rushing set of footsteps coming towards him, Kidd continues to smirk.

A man about his own age was running full speed at him. A look of rage crossed his features as he clutched a knife tightly in his hands. Compared to himself, the man was nothing more than a twig. No muscle or anything to back him up with the fight he was looking for.

“Oh, this outta be fun.”

“Damn pirates! Leave our island alone!” The man lifts his arm to strike the notorious captain, only to be stopped by a suffocating grip. Without a second thought, Kidd’s hand gripped the scrawny man’s neck as he lifted him up. The man drops the knife to try and pry off the hand, squeezing his throat.

“How pathetic! A string bean like you thinks he can tell me what to do?” Kidd squeezes the man's throat harder and lifts him so they're eye to eye.

“News flash, I don’t like when people tell me what to do. I’ll show you what happens to people who do.” Clawing at Kidd’s hand, the man begins to see black in his vision as he starts to gasp.

“Please let my son go! He’s the only family I have!” An old man shows up hobbling fast towards Kidd and his crew. A cane in his left hand as he struggles to stay up.

“I don’t feel like it. Little fucker thinks he can try to attack me. Yet he didn’t even land a hit like the pathetic little thing he is.” Kidd laughs at the old man’s worried expression.

“I’ll do anything! Just please let my son go!” The old man gets on his hands and knees, begging the ruthless pirate for mercy.

“Bring me your mayor, and I’ll think about it.”

“I am the mayor! I promise, Captain Kidd, as I have the key to City Hall and everything!” The old man pulls out a key from his pants and lifts it towards Kidd.

“Well, would you look at that? How convenient. I didn’t even have to waste time searching.” Using his devil fruit powers, Kidd gravitates the key to his open hand. Looking at the key in his hand, he looks to his friend.

“What ya think, Killer? Should I let the small fry go?”

“Might as well. We have the mayor right here.”

“Looks like it’s your lucky day. Now scram before I change my mind.” The man is dropped with a thud. Holding his throat, he coughs harshly, with tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. Air finally returns to his lungs.

“Run home, son. Everything will be fine! Just go home.”

“But father-”

“Go home!” Despite his pleas, the scrawny man follows his father's orders. His throat bruised as he struggles to walk. His head spinning as the lack of oxygen has taken its toll. A crippling fear plagues the son as he walks home with unstable legs. The safety of his father was all he could think about.

“Now that that little nuisance is out of the way, we can finally get what we came here for.” Turning his attention to the old man, Kidd looks down at him.

“You either give us all the treasure this town has in its treasury, or I go back and break your son's scrawny little neck.” The mayor looks in horror at the man before him.

“I can’t! We’ve been saving it to build a marine base on the island! It’s taken us years to save up that money!” Kidd only laughs in the old man’s face.

“Too bad, old man! Now, you either give us all the treasure this shit town has to offer, or you’ll see its ashes fall from the sky!”

“But! The people need that for-” Not letting the old man finish, Kidd kicked him backwards. His fragile body hits the ground and is knocked out cold.

“Wrong answer, old fool! Burn it down and take everything! Leave no stone unturned!” Kidd watched his crew scatter before starting to break into businesses, houses, and other structures. Glass shattering, and the newfound screams sounded like music to his ears.

“Heat!” Calling out to his crew, he watches the bluenette approach him.

“Yeah Captain?”

“I want you to go kill that brat while burning down buildings.”

“Sounds good.”

Turning around laughing, Kidd’s amber eyes catch the glance of a woman hiding behind a building. Her face full of fear as she shook in her place. From where she stood, Kidd could see the way the light shone down on her. It gave her an almost angelic glow. For some reason, it ignited something inside him. Something that told him to ruin her. To rip off that halo and wings while he fucked her down to the second circle of hell. The image made him laugh as he began to move in her direction. Himmoving in the woman’s direction caused her to finally flee.

“Cat and mouse, aye?” Kidd snickers as he beckons the woman back; any metal she was wearing would drag her right back to him. He watches her stop in her tracks before being pulled back to him at full speed. Her shrieks of terror cause him to lick his lips.

The woman’s back collided with Kidd’s chest as he grabbed her wirst in an iron grip.

“Where do you think you're going?” The woman looked up at him, and he smiled at her. He watched her tremble in place.

“Y-Your Eustass Kidd…”

“Damn right. What? You afraid?” The way she uttered his name made the fire inside him only burn brighter. A delicate little thing like her screaming out his name as he left bruises on her skin had his mind running with wild thoughts.

“Please! Just let me go! I’ll give you all the money I have. Just please let me go!” He watched in amusement as the woman tried to twist and turn out of his grip. The hope dying in her eyes felt like an addictive drug. While taking in the woman's fear, he noticed a ring adorning her finger and a metal circle on your left wrist.

“Now, why would I let something I caught fair and square go?” Finally pulling her left arm closer to his view, he finds that the circle of metal adorning her wrist was, in fact, supposed to be a bracelet. A very shitty stainless steel bracelet that he could have easily made with his eyes closed.

“Your shitty stainless steel bracelet betrayed you, princess.” The nickname fell off his tongue so smoothly that it was almost like honey. He could feel his heart quicken at the little nickname that he decided there and then.

“My fiance worked hard to make it for me!”

“Don’t make me laugh! This is the shittest piece of jewelry I’ve ever seen!” How horribly it was made felt like an insult to him. He swore a baby could make one better. Using his power, Kidd manages to contort the ugly bracelet off the woman's wrist. He brought it closer to his face just to look at it once more, and that’s when he saw the flaw in the metal. He sees the woman reach for it but simply lifts it up out of her reach to inspect it more.

“Give it back!”

“It’s ain’t even pure stainless steel. Pathetic. Not even detailed, just a circle of metal." Using his devil fruit, he crushes the bracelet into the form of a ball. Small enough to be a bullet.

“Repel.” A laugh escapes him as he watches the small ball shoot into a store window. It shatters the entire thing and breaks something inside. Now, turning back to the woman, he smirks.

“Now, c’mon. You’re coming with me.” The woman's nails dig into Kidd’s hand. Her desperate attempt at freedom only made his lust for her grow.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, princess. I’m not a very patient person.” The woman's mouth opens to say something, but a loud voice pulls his attention away.

“(Y/N)! Get your hands off of her, you filithy pirate!” So that was your name? It felt fitting for a little thing like yourself. A lovely little princess like you with such an angelic name.

Looking at the person in front of him, he sees a ring adorning their left hand. It added up to the fact that this must be your fiance. AN annoyed look plastered on Kidd’s face as he realized that what should have been a quick thing was now actually gonna be a pain in his ass. Looking the fiance up and down, Kidd knew that they stood no chance against him. A single punch could take them down, no doubt.

“Is this your pathetic fiance? Ugh, I don’t have time to deal with you. I’ve got to take this treasure I found back to the ship.”

“(Y/N)’s not going anywhere with you! Let her go pirate!” Rage filled Kidd as another small fry thinks they can tell him what to do.

“Run (....)! He’s going to kill you!” Kidd let go of your wrist for a second, only to wrap his arm around your torso. He pulled you close to his chest as he trapped your arms to your sides with his strong grip. While he’d love to turn your pathetic fiance into a bloody puddle, he just couldn’t wait to bring you back to the Victoria Punk for safekeeping.

“Killer!” Not even seconds pass before his best friend shows up next to him.

“Yeah, Kidd?”

“I need you to kill them. Little shit thinks they can tell me what I can and can’t do.” He watches his buddy look down at the horrified woman in his arms.

“Who’s she?”

“My new plaything, cutie, ain’t she?” Kidd laughs as he holds onto you tighter. Your smell was intoxicating with how close you were to him.

“No! Leave them alone!”

“Alright, let’s go.” Kidd turns around just in time so you don’t see Killer murdering your fiance. But the screams could still be heard. He looks down and sees tears slipping down your cheeks as you weep in his grasp. The pathetic fiance felt like a worthless thing to cry about, in his personal opinion. But seeing your tears had his pants growing tighter.

“What a pretty sight, don’t you think?” The look of horror on your face as you watched your town burn to the ground made Kidd feel like we were on cloud nine. He just knew that the little angel he plucked from gods hand would surely be a fuck to experience.

~~~

“Oi Kidd.”

“What is it Killer?” Watching his friend approach him, Kidd simply took a hard drink of the alcohol in his hand. His eyes scanned the bar as he watched multiple women look at him with less-than-holy intentions.

“Do you want me to go unlock that chick on the ship now? She’s been on the ship since we took her from that island a week ago? Plus, you're at the bar getting plastered and beckoning other women over.”

“Nah. Keep her there a little longer. Plus, where would she go? It’s not like she has a home to go back to. I could honestly keep her as long as I want!” Laughing, Kidd took another swing of his drink. Having a personal fleshlight aboard the ship at all times was an opportunity only a fool would pass up.

“If you say so.”

“Come get a drink, Killer! Unwind and enjoy the lack of Marines!” Chugging down the alcohol, Kidd slammed down the empty glass on the table. His eye scanned the room, and despite the multiple women that occupied the bar, none gave him that rush that you did when he first saw you. While there were women who looked at him with lust, the fear that was in your eyes made more of an impact on his sexual desires.

Sure, he’s taken women to the Victoria Punk, but they're always gone before sunrise. No woman he’s brought to bed has ever spent a full day on the ship. Until you came along. You’ve spent a full week under the deck of the Victoria with only him and Killer knowing. And it’ll stay that way if he could help it. Having a secret little place to relieve his stress and get his fill sounded perfect for when he was stuck on the seas without a bar to be seen.

A little wingless angel stuck in the dark.

~~~

Stumbling along the hallways, Kidd can’t help but chuckle as he makes his way to your room. He’s been drinking till the early before a sudden lust flooded his body. The image of you laying beneath him was too stong to ignore. He wanted to hear your cries and moans. Wanted to feel your nails dig into his skin and cause him too bleed.

When he opened the door that kept you locked away, he saw you sleeping peacefully. Your face content as you lay on the tattered blankets that used to hold prisioners. The light giving him just enough to walk towards a crate to light up a lantern. Once he closed and locked the door again, the lantern was now the only sorce of light.

He stumbled over to where your head lay before sitting down. The vibrations caused you to stir, yet you refused to awaken fully. It caused a scowl to appear on Kidd’s painted lips before he tugged on a strand of your hair. The shock of your hair being tugged made your hand go to soothe the throb that followed suit.

Rubbing your eyes, you look up.”Kidd? W-Why are you here? It’s late.” Your confusion was clear in your voice, but Kidd paid no mind.

“Mmm…gonna fuck ya. Wanna hear my princess cry out my name.” Slurring his speech, Kidd laughs as he grabs your wrist and drags you up to him. The chain attached to your ankle rattled as he had you face to face.

The fear that still swirled in your eyes got him drunker than any alcohol could ever do. Your soft skin against his rough, calloused hands felt as if he were touching something sacred.

Grabbing your chin, he pulls you in for a kiss. He could feel you try to pull away, but you were no match for his strength, and he loved that. How weak you were compared to him had his already hard cock throbbing. You were the defenseless little princess who relied on him for everything.

The kiss only got deeper as he spurred himself on in his head. He pushed his tongue past your lips and groaned when he felt your own. Your taste was sweet as he explored your mouth. No matter how many times he’s kissed you, it always felt just as electric as it did the day he first kissed you. Your lips are so soft as they smudged his lipstick with how harshly he was kissing you.

Wrapping his hands around your wrists, he slammed you down on the ground before climbing on top of your body. His lips were still locked with yours as your scent overwhelmed him. It sent a fire hot sensation in his abdomen as he started to press closer to you.

Bringing both wrists above his head, he holds them both with one hand. With his other hand now free, he runs his fingertips underneath your shirt. He feels you shiver against his touch, and it causes one to go down his own spine.

Pulling his lips away from yours, a thick strand of saliva connected his mouth to yours. Hearing you gasp and pant for breath makes him slightly grip your wrists harder as he stares down at you. Your lips were swollen from his harsh kiss and sporting the lipstick that once adorned his own lips.

“K-Kidd, you're drunk. Perhaps you should just sleep. You don’t want a hangover, do you?” The nervousness and pleas that slipped past your lips went unheard by him. All he could see was his princess lying under him. Even though you tried to squirm and wiggle away, all Kidd felt was you rubbing against him.

“Fuck.” Kidd whispers under his breath as he begins to rub his clothed cock against you. His face is right above yours as he feels your breath fanning against his face. Through his lidded eyes, Kidd can see your eyes are closed, and you're biting your bottom lip.

Moving both your wrists to one hand, Kidd uses his free one to grab your chin. “Fucking look at me. I want you to look at me while I fuck you.” Kidd can feel his heart double in speed when he’s met with your eyes staring at him intensely yet glassy.

Kidd groans out before licking his lips. Letting go of your chin, Kidd reaches down to unbuckle his pants. His eyes still strained on you and he can’t help but notice all the bites and bruises he’s adorned on your body since you’ve been here. It only makes Kidd’s need for you higher.

“What if we do this tomorrow?” Your words break through Kidd’s lust-clouded mind. ”You won’t even remember this since you're drunk, right? We can do it tomorrow!” Beads of sweat dropped from your forehead as you talked to Kidd. Obviously hoping that he might fall for the bait.

Kidd’s eyes stare at you before letting out a yawn. He didn’t say anything for a few seconds before getting up and moving away from your body. Only to grab it seconds later and drag you to lay on the tattered blankets. He fell on top of you, making you let out an ‘oof’.

The warmth your body excluded made made Kidd’s eyes grow heavy as he let out another yawn. Placing his head onto of your breasts, he allowed his drunken self just an hour or two to sleep before going back into his own quarters. No harm in a measly two hours.

~~~

The sky filled with smoke as Kidd angrily desetroyed anything he deemed mocked him. Living or not, his anger was his own fault as ahe had no one to blame but himself. Ever since that drunken night he slept by your side, he’s never been able to sleep normally again.

Before he used to sleep all throughout the night but now. He’d wake up every two hours reaching out for someoen that wasn’t there. He’s never slept with someone all night. Or at all. But now that he’s gotten a taste of what it felt like to sleep next to someone, it wans’t something his body could sleep without. And it pissed him off.

Sure, he loved fucking you whenever he wanted, but now, it’s like he can’t go even an hour without thinking about you. Working in his workshop became a pain in the ass as he could be working on his crew’s weapons only to see your eyes staring at him in his imagination. How blown over they are when he fucks you or how you looked at him when he even enters a room.

He couldn’t even sleep with other women anymore cause his mind kept going to you! All there was was you. It pissed him off to the point he didn’t bother seeking you out of your company for a week and counting. A small part of him begged to go below deck to see the angel he stole from god. Yet the other him spoke curses on how you’ve affected him. It felt as if his head was splitting from the battle going on inside him.

“You're scowling more than usual. What’s wrong?” His friend's voice broke through his thoughts as he stood next to him.

Running a hand through his hair, Kidd hisses. “It’s not something you can help with, so buzz off.”

“Is it about that girl below deck?”

“(Y/N).”

“Yeah her?”

“No.”

“Liar.” Snapping his head towards the masked man, Kidd glared at him.

“Something obviously happened, so stop trying to act like nothing did.” Killer crossed his arms as he looked at his stubborn friend.

“She’s invading my mind like a damn disease! Can’t even go an hour without her popping up in my mind! Not to mention, I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in a month!”

“Can’t even fuck another whore without imagining it’s her! It’s pissing me off! Is this some sort of devil fruit?!” A snort comes from behind Killer’s mask, making Kidd madder.

“Jesus christ, your so stupid.”

“I’m not fucking stupid! If you know what's wrong with me, then spit it out!”

“It’s called falling in love, you idiot.”

Kidd’s eyes widened as he felt his heart stop. “No shot! That’s the biggest load of shit I’ve ever heard! I’m not falling in love.”

“Oh really? Well then, let her go, it’s been six months-”

“-No.”

“You're not in love with her, but you refuse to let her go?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, Kidd. Whatever you say.”

~~~

Bursting open the door, Kidd stomps through his room. His rage fills the small space as his heart beats harshly. Once again, a marine ship ruined his supply trip to an island. While normally he wouldn’t care and go on and fight, Killer advised against it. Kidd had a good amount of sake a few hours earlier and wouldn’t be on his A game if they took charge.

While Killer was right, Kidd was still upset that he wouldn’t be able to get supplies for his crew for another day till they reached the next island. His crew had to go hungry for a day simply because of some annoying marines.

“God fucking damnit! Those fucking marines keep getting in my way!” Kidd��s eyes scan the room as he tries to find something to throw. When his eyes landed on a metal butterfly he made for you, he grabbed it off the dresser in a quick movement.

“Fuck!” Throwing it as hard as he could, he aimed for the bedroom door, which was already covered in marks from the other times he'd thrown knives at the door. The sound of a sucked-in breath makes him snap his head in your direction.

“What the fuck are you staring at?!” He watches you scoot away from him, and it only fuels his drunken rage. Who did you think you were to run away from him? To look at him with that face? Do you think it's funny when shit doesn't go his way?

His anger only heightened even more as he wrapped his hand around your foot. Digging his nails into your skin as he pulled you from him.

As soon as you were close enough to him, he grabbed your neck and lifted you into the air. “I said, what the fuck are you staring at?!” He watched you try to pry off his fingers off your neck. The small sting your nails brought only served to piss him off more.

“You're happy, aren’t you?! Do you think the Marines are going to catch me, and you’ll be free?! Is that it?!”

“I-I can’t breathe…Kidd please…” He watched as tears streamed down your face and onto his hand. The tear felt like a needle poking into his heart.

“Stupid bitch!” Stumbling over his own feet, Kidd chucks you against the wall. He watched you hit the wall and onto the floor with a loud ‘thud’ before what sounded like a crack whispered in his ears. He examines your body, not moving, and it causes a hard scowl on his face.

“Get up, damnit! I barely threw you!” Growling, Kidd wobbles over to your body before falling to his knees. His sight is blurry as his head seems to pound. When he slid his fingers through your hair, his brain failed to register the wet substance that coated his hand. He pulls on your hair so he can look you in the eyes.

“Fucking pathetic! Why do I even keep you around when you're so fucking useless?!” Your silence had Kidd’s drunken self slightly coherent.

“Hey! I’m talking to you! Don’t ignore me!” He grabs your face and, through his drunken haze, starts to see a red liquid drip down your face. A red handprint of blood was left on your cheek when he slightly moved his hand.

Your eyes fluttering shut made him sober up as the blood running down your face finally set in.

“Oi! Keep your eyes open!” Moving his hand in front of your face back and forth, his heart rate peaks when he finally watches your eyes fully close. Pulling your body close to his own, he grabs your shoulders and shakes you harder. Worry sets in as you don’t respond.

Picking you up to carry you, he hastly stumbles out of his room and makes a dash to the infirmary. The sound of his footsteps echoed through out the halls. His mouth goes dry as your lack of movement sobers him up to accurately find the room.

To his luck, Killer was already in the infirmary, counting on what they needed to restock.

“Killer, I fucked up.”

~~~

His eyes stared at the carved door as he laid his head on your chest. Your heartbeat pounding in his ears as he tried to ignore the small blood splatter on the floor that he forgot to clean up after the incident.

Your fingers running through his hair did little to calm the thoughts in his head. Even though he laid against you, he felt it wasn’t close enough. Close seemed to not be close enough.

Lifting his body up, he laid down next to you before he pulled you to his chest, you hair slightly tickling his skin. He wrapped his arms around you all the way to the point you wouldn’t be able to leave. Moving his legs, he tangled his limbs with yours. Only then did he feel you were close enough. Your scent a silent lullaby as he raced with thoughts. What if’s ran rampant.

‘What if I just took a nap instead?’

‘What if you got hurt even worse then i thought?’

‘What if you didn’t wake up?’

The thought of you no longer sharing his bed caused a panic to settle in Kidd’s stomach. Your warmth had become the only thing that allowed him to sleep peacefully. Hearing you breathe managed to be the only stress reliever that worked.

It was obvious to him now, that no matter what he might say, he couldn’t live without you.

~~~

The sound of the waves crashing against the beach felt like laughter as Kidd watched you sailing away on a ship he’d never seen before. His scream out to you echoed across the water only to come back to him, mocking him for being too late. Now, he got to watch the only thing that made him calm leave him.

The sand below him showed muddy footprints before being washed away by the ocean. Thunder and harsh rain poured down on Kidd, his hair sticking to his face as the rain pelted down his hair. Whether it was rain or tears that slid down his cheeks was anyone's guess. It felt as if time stopped while he tried to piece together what now?

His goal to find the one piece and become King of the Pirates still ran strong through his veins, but now it felt different. Not even days before this, he began to dream of when he’d finally be called King of the Pirates, when you’d be clinging to his arm and congratulating him, kissing him, and telling him you loved him. But now, that’s what it’d only be—a dream.

~~~

It’s been months since Kidd watched you sail away. Each night was plagued with that image of you sailing farther and farther away from him, every time only seconds late. Not a night went by where he didn’t wake up in a cold sweat. He’d reach out for you and be hit with the painful reminder that it was real—that you were gone.

Yet no matter where he went, it always felt like he saw you out of the corner of his eye. Or how sometimes he’d hear your voice in his ear. But when he turned to check it out, there was nothing. It felt as if he was going insane without you. And while there was intense longing, there was rage.

How dare you leave him? Don’t you know how much you meant to him? Hasn’t he shown he’s learned his lesson? He’s told you he loved you and you still left him. You have no one other then him, he made sure of it. Yet you still left.

Killer tried to tell him to get over you, that there were plenty of other fish in the sea, but he knew what he meant. He shouldn’t be shocked. You weren't even supposed to be with him for as long as you were. It was only a matter of time before the ‘relationship’ Kidd built with you would burn before his eyes. Even if he refused Killer’s words, any sane person would have agreed.

But now here he was, missing you with fury boiling inside him as he stared out over the crowd in the auction house. Privileged entitled assholes as far as the eye can see. All waiting for the show to begin.

~~~

Emotions pumped through his veins as he stared at himself in the mirror. A small splatter of blood on his cheek as all he could think about was you. How happy he was that you were back where you belonged. That after months of sleeplessness not knowing where you were, you were finally back in his arms. Whether you liked it or not wasn't something he cared to hear. He had you first. Those damn Straw Hats took you away, but now, you were back.

But you came back with a price.

Whatever happened in those months you were away changed you. All you did was fight and yell, scream and punch. Instead of the quiet angel he stole, a venomous fallen angel stood before him. But despite missing his fearful princess, the fight you put up managed to also have his blood pumping hotter. Watching you try to fight him only to lose gave him a high that only your fear could compare to.

Seeing your eyes widen in fear when he threatened to cut off your legs made a shiver of pleasure shoot up his spine. Even after you spit venom, he could not help but want you even more. Having you so close to him again made his body go haywire. Hearing you scream out in pain reminded him of when you screamed out his name in such a different, lustful tone. Watching tears stream down your face when he threw punch after punch had him resisting the urge to fuck you bloody and bruised.

While the image was tempting, he had things to do, and he couldn’t let you think you got away with it. So he’d just send Killer down to patch you up after you’d been drenched in your own blood for a while. Maybe it’ll give you some time to contemplate. But if not, that’s okay.

He kinda liked that taste of your blood.

~~~

His heart couldn’t help but leap when he felt your lips running smoothly against his own, your warm skin glowing underneath his fingertips as you cupped his face. A calm washed over him at the small gesture. He pulled you closer and kissed you deeper, never wanting to let you go. But when he pulled away for a breath, he saw the stains of his lipstick on your face, the sight making him smile.

Kidd couldn’t help but feel the shiver that ran down his spine when he felt your breath against his neck. The rigid, cold metal of the collar on your neck had him silently sick in a breath.

“If you're gonna make me a new collar, can it be one I can sleep in?” When you mumbled those words into his skin, flashbacks from that fateful day rushed back to him. How you got out of your collar, so he obviously had to make a bigger and better one. And now you're trying to get a different one?

“Do you know why you're in that collar?” He looked down and was met with your pleading eyes.

“I ran away.” Kidd grits his teeth and digs his fingers into his hips harshly. Anger starts to surface at the memories.

“Yeah, you did. How can I trust you not to do it again, hmm? This collar makes my devil fruit powers work even better than the last one. So why should I give rewards to bad girls?”

“Can I do something to make it up to you?” The idea Killer shut down a week ago comes back to his mind. He’s done a few good studies to understand how it works, and it sounds pretty easy—easy and a perfect way to show everyone who you belong to.

“Take off your shirt.”

“W-What?”

“You heard me. Take it off.” Kidd watches you with heat pooling in his abdomen as he takes longing glimpses at your bare chest.

“Back to me.” He watches you listen and can’t help but run his fingers along your skin. Tracing your spine causes a shiver to run down his.

Getting up, he placed you down on the chair before tying you to it with a piece of metal. The sight makes him bite the inside of his cheek.

“H-Hey! What the hell!” Kidd only laughed before turning away from you.

“You know, Killer originally talked me out of this, but since you wanted to be rewarded for bad behavior, I think it’ll go nicely with your new collar.” A rush of power surges through Kidd’s bones as he collects everything he needs.

“It’ll also show anybody who tries to take you away from me that you belong to me.” With his hands finally full, Kidd turns back to you. Your face goes rigid as he walks in your direction, which in turn makes you try to scoot away. Grabbing the side of the chair, he brings you back to him.

“Don’t worry, princess, I did my research.” A major rush of power flowed through Kidd's veins as he watched you struggle to escape.

“This is completely unreasonable! You can’t be serious!”

“You wanted to make it up to me? Well, here's your chance.” Kidd could see the panic in your eyes as he started to heat up the metal pole in his hands.

“There has to be something else, please, Kidd!” In a swift and rash motion, Kidd threw his hand towards you and felt your cheek collide with his knuckles.

“Be fucking grateful that I’m even giving you this chance! Those damn Straw Hats taught you that you can be a brat! I’m going to kill each one of those fuckers! I’ll do it in front of you so you can see what happens when you leave me!”

“You’ll never beat them! They’re gonna come for me and kick your ass!” Red clouded Kidd’s vision hearing your words. Grabbing your hair, he tugs it back so you face him. The tears in your eyes go ignored as Kidd’s grip on the metal pole tightens. He didn’t give you a second to speak before pushing the burning hot pole on your chest.

The scream you let out when the metal was fully pushed onto your skin swiped him out of his rage. The red that once blinded him was now gone as he quickly pulled away from you. He’d never heard something so ear-piercing and painful in his life. It echoed all throughout his workshop, and he felt a panic set in when he noticed he skipped a step in his rage and how you’ve now passed out.

“Shit! Shit! Oi, princess!” Grabbing your chin, his eyes studied your face to see any sign of consciousness, yet he was met with none. His heart rate spiked as he ripped away the metal he tied you with before carrying you bridal style. He rushed to the infirmary and cursed himself internally for not following all the steps as he tried to ignore the graphic third-degree burn on your chest.

~~~

All he could feel was numb, yet a pain that was indescribable when you moved his head to look at his arm. What once used to be a full limb was now nothing more than a stump. He could see his body covered in bandages as the memory of what happened came back to him. Words couldn’t seem to form as he felt his dreams crash down around him.

“You should lay down and make sure everything heals properly.” Using the arm he had left, Kidd pulled you onto his lap. Burying his head into your scarred chest, it's then that he feels the tears on his own cheeks.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he’s cried like this, or if he’s ever cried like this. Crying so hard that he struggled to breathe and began to shake. It felt like the walls were closing in on him as he cried into your chest. All he could think of was how would he become King of the Pirates with one arm? It set him back so much that he felt hopeless.

But when you wrapped your arms around him and slid your fingers through his hair, he pulled you closer despite his bandaged torso. The slight pain he felt was nothing compared to the pain he felt inside.

“Just breathe, okay? In and out.” Following your command, Kidd tries to copy your breathing despite continuing to cry. Your now-soaked shirt rubbed against his face, and it only worsened the pain in his heart.

The small and gentle tune you began to hum made his hold tighter. He never wanted to let you go as you comforted him when he needed you the most.

~~~

Kidd sat on a chair next to you in the hospital bed as worry and fear took over him. His anger once again took charge and caused him to hurt you horrifically. Seeing you laying there with bandages covering your head caused a guilt he’s never felt before. He remembered the amount of blood you lost when he ran you to the hospital. It dripped from your head all the way to the hospital.

He managed to nab a doctor right away and have him work on you. Every second you were in the surgery room felt like hell. And what the doctor told him what the diagnosis was made Kidd’s heart clench.

“Since she fell off your ship, there's no doubt she has a sort of head/brain trauma. Long-lasting effects could stem from this injury. Here’s a list of some effects that you can read while I go grab another IV bag.”

Which is where Kidd sat now. Watching you breathe. Watching you breathe with the crumbled up list in hand. Your eyes closed as you sleep, unaware of the wreck he is. Grabbing your hand, Kidd brought it close to his lips and kissed your knuckles before holding it against his forehead.

Caressing your face, Kidd looks at you, sleeping peacefully. The moonlight shining off you gave you that same angelic glow he saw you with all those years ago. Despite the scars that covered your body, you were still so beautiful. Rubbing your cheek, Kidd looked down at you lovingly.

“I’m sorry, princess. You can pull through this. You have to.”

~~~

“This is how it should be, sleeping next to me.” With your legs tangled in his, Kidd scoots his body closer to yours before kissing your forehead. A wicked smile slithers along Kidd’s face.

“All those memories gone. No more talking about home. No more flinching, no more Straw Hats.”

“Those bastards, trying to play hero and stole you from me. Thinking your up for grabs when you obviously belong to me. Meant for me. You were meant to be mine and stay by my side. Why else would I have gotten a second chance?”

“Now, I’ll always have you. You look up at me with loving eyes instead of hatred. Instead of hitting me, you run up to hug me. You kiss me passionately like I’ll disappear any moment. I love it when you run up to me and jump so I can catch you. I love it when you sit next to me while I work in my workshop, giving me praise. If I had known you hit your head harder, I would have you in my arms willingly…”

“Then I would’ve thrown you against the wall harder.”

~~~

‘That selfish prick! After everything I’ve done to keep her in the dark, he comes around and fucks it up! Everything was going great! She loved me yet-’

“Fuck!” Slamming his metal hand against the bench in his workshop, Kidd begins to tear it apart. Weapons were thrown to unknown corners of the room, pieces of metal scattered across the floor, and a dent in the bench.

Kidd gritted his teeth as his whole body uncontrollably shook. The dried blood staining his hand only continued to serve his rage. Because even if Heat was already dead, the damage had been done. The day of you holding him tight and kissing him was over. He’ll never be able to feel you close to him again. At least, not without a fight.

Hot tears began to stream down his face as he gripped the dented bench with an iron grip. His tears felt like an acid against his skin as his vision blurred. The smirk the bastard wore while he bled out behind you burned into Kidd’s memory.

Giving you a devil fruit, a logia type at that was infuriating. How the hell did he manage to get it on the boat and have you eat it? You were always by his side, so how could Heat have given it to you? The day of the fight? Or when he caught you and Heat talking to each other alone? How could he not see the signs earlier? Why did it take the busting open of your old cell door twice for him to finally understand what he needed to do?

Yet it was too late.

“God damnit.” Kidd swallowed the lump in his throat before letting out a sniffle. “This is bad. How am I gonna fix this? There’s gotta be a way-”

“Kidd.” The workshop door opens, and Killer stands in the doorway. Quickly wiping his tears, Kidd tries to regain steady breathing, hoping Killer doesn’t see his moment of weakness.

“What Killer?”

“You better have a good plan. Explain where Heat went and where (Y/N) went.” Kidd stays silent, which is all Killer needs.

“Did you-”

“I saw everything from the shadows. This could be a sign, you know?”

“What kind of fucking sign?”

“You know what kind of sign I’m talking about.” Silence covers the workshop.

“Maybe it’s time to let her-”

“No!” Kidd slams his metal hand on the bench with enough force to cause another dent.

“Well, what do you think you should do then?” Once again, the workshop goes silent.

“Giving you a week to decide for (Y/N). As for Heat, better pull something good out of your ass.” Just as soon as Killer entered, he left. Leaving Kidd to wallow in his predicament.

~~~

“Do you really think she’s on this island, Kidd? It’s been a week since the paper came out.”

“She will be on this island. If she isn’t, I’ll kill anyone I need to to figure out where she went. I don’t want a single civilian to go unquestioned. If they refuse to tell you, don’t be afraid to use violence.”

The bustling port of Haylard Island has Kidd’s eyes scanning every inch of movement. If you were on that dock, he wanted to make sure he saw you. There was no room for him to be making mistakes. He’s already made enough.

“Burn down buildings, steal supplies, and anything you think is worth something. Do not stop until the ashes block out the sun.”

“Yes, captain!” Hearing his own crew leave, Kidd finally let out a shaky inhale while looking down. The sea stared back at him, once again mocking him for losing you.

“Laugh all you want, but take my word. I’ll burn and kill my way back to her. And nothing will stop me until she’s in my arms.”

~~~

Despite the night once being full of cheers, the marine group of G-5 now found themselves fighting for their lives. What should have been a celebration was now a fight to the death as they were ambushed in the dark of the night. The once-empty sky was now covered in flaming arrows heading directly toward them.

“Everyone, man, your stations! We’re under attack, so get ready for a fight!” The captain's commands echo throughout the ship, and no one wastes a second. Running up and down the ship, Captain Tashigi checks to see if everything is in order to ensure supreme safety.

“Captain!” the sound of a terrified marine rings through her ears as she runs to the voice. Coming up from below the deck, she’s met with fire and smoke. It felt as if her heart was going to explode as all she could hear was marines yelling and the flickering of flames.

The flames only got higher as she tried to figure out what to do. Before she went below deck, they were able to contain the fires, but now, it’s almost consumed the entire deck. With how fast the flames were spreading, there was no doubt that the ship would be at the bottom of the sea before sunrise.

Grabbing a transponder snail she kept in her pocket, she began to call the nearest marine base to help with the attack. She realized this wasn’t a battle they could fight on their own.

“Hello! This is Captain Tashigi of G-5. We need backup right away! We’re under attack, and the ship is engrossed in flames!”

“G-5, this is (....)! We will send you back up right away! What are your locations, and can you see the attackers?”

“Our coordinates are (-------)! I don’t know, as the flames are so tall and the smoke is-” The whole ship shook as something hit the deck, causing Tashigi to drop the transponder snail and fall backward.

“-Oof!”

“Captain are you okay?”

“Something just hit the boat! I’m unaware of what it is!” Quickly getting back on her feet, Tashigi grabs her sword along with the transponder snail.

“I’m going to go check it out.”

“Keep us on the line.”

“Will do.” Putting the snail away for safekeeping, Tashigi grips her sword with both hands as she starts to walk carefully through the flames.

As soon as she stepped in, the sound of a marine screaming echoed across the deck. Panic set in the captain's stomach as her hands began to shake. The screams of pain and terror only caused more panic to set in. But she’s the captain. She has to be strong. She can’t back down.

“G-5, what’s going on?!” The screams of pain and agony continue before a loud audible SNAP rings in Tashigi’s ears. Assuming the worst, she feels all the color drain from her face.

And just like that, it was quiet.

“G-5?” With her voice trembling, Tashigi couldn’t help but be frozen in place.

“Tashigi.” Before she could scream, a rough, calloused hand covered her mouth. Looking in her peripheral vision, she saw Vice Admiral Smoker motioning her to shush. Nodding her head, Smoker lowered his hand.

“What’s going on, Vice Admiral?”

“Almost the entire deck has been engulfed in flames. We need to go to the other side of the ship.”

“But what about-”

“It’s silent over those flames, Tashigi.” With tears prickling in her eyes, she understands what he’s saying despite wishing it not to be true. Grabbing her hand, Smoker runs to the end of the ship, where there are fewer flames. Their footsteps echo, giving away their position to the attackers.

As she was running, Tashigi’s sword started vibrating before being completely pulled from her hands. She watched it fly backward and into the flames. A metal thunk rang across the deck, making her eyes widen. When she looked into the flames, she felt her heart stop.

Walking through the flames was no other than the man who had the whole new world in the palm of his hand.

“V-Vice Admiral…it’s-”

“Go hide, Tashigi. I’ll handle this.” Putting himself in front of her, Smoker points towards the darkness.

“But-”

“I’ll be fine. Go hide. Don’t come out until I come to get you.”

With a tremble in her voice, she responds. “Okay.”

Running into the darkness, Tashigi searches around with a racing heart, desperate to find a hiding spot. The sound of unintelligible yelling and metal clanking only makes her search more frantic. She should be fighting, but if Smoker says to hide…

“Killer! Go after the girl. She ran straight ahead.”

“You’ll have to get past me first. Both of you.”

“Vice Admiral.” Whispering to herself, Tashigi runs around some more before spotting an empty barrel. With no more time to spend, she jumps in.

As she gets as comfortable as she can, she puts the barrel lid over her head, leaving her in complete darkness. Her knees pressed against her chest as she struggles to take deep breaths. She tries to prevent herself from shivering.

‘This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.’ She thinks to herself as tears slip down her cheeks. She knew the stakes there were to bring you to Sabaody, but they were so careful about not giving away. It was then taking care of you. How did Kidd figure out it was them?

A loud thud can be heard throughout the deck before silence. No words were spoken, and the fear was only intensified. Tashigi felt her throat grow dry as she started to hear boots shuffling along the deck.

Sounds of things being searched causes her heart to beat out of her chest. Her body begins to shake as she hears the boots walking towards her hiding spot.

The moonlight soon shines down on her as the barrel's lid pops open. She looks up and sees no one. The moonlight shone down on her as she feared who had opened the lid, but she soon gets her answer.

“Found you.”

~~~

Haven't been able to draw for shit so no picture

@rebeccawinters @iggy5055 @dairygrrl @childconnoisseur @menifire1092 @nerdgeekandeverysweet-blog @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @lovemesomefanfic846 @ryuv1i @carpinchootaku @misoxramen @pinkfoxmusic @mizzhellsingsstuff

#one piece x reader #eustass captain kid x reader #eustass kid x reader #tw: violence #tw: abuse #tw: blood #tw death #dark content things

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str4ngergirlw0rld · 22 days ago

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chapter 1 ⭒ Hollow Halls

As you walk through the dim halls of Hawkins Community College, a heavy loneliness settles over you. The gray skies outside match how you feel, with rain pouring down like a constant reminder of your sadness and distant thunder rumbling in the background.

It’s hard to shake the feeling that someone’s watching you, and it makes your heart race. You hope it’s just in your head, but when you look up, you see a bunch of indifferent faces staring back. Anxiety twists in your stomach, and you feel your breath get shallow.

Where’s the bathroom? The thought won’t leave you as you hurry away from the stares that seem to cut right through you. After what feels like forever, you finally rush into the bathroom, the harsh fluorescent lights buzzing above.

In your rush, you bump into someone. “Oh, sorry!” you say, but it feels awkward in the heavy silence.

“Whatever,” she replies, her red hair whipping around as she turns away. You catch a quick glimpse of her wiping her nose, a moment of vulnerability that pulls at you, but you push it aside; your own sadness feels too heavy to deal with right now.

⭒

Standing alone in the bathroom, the weight of your loneliness sinks in. Outside, the rain keeps pouring, and you realize that even in a crowd, it’s easy to feel completely alone.

You can’t shake the thought that you’ll never be normal again. Posters flap in the damp air around Hawkins, each one a haunting reminder—your face stares back from every corner, desperate and lost. “Find me,” they whisper. “Missing person.” “If found, call nnn-nnn-nnnn.” “Reward: $500.” It hits you hard; this is all the town thinks you’re worth.

Looking in the cracked mirror, you barely recognize the person staring back. Dark circles under your eyes and a nose that’s raw from blowing it too many times remind you of your new reality. You try to convince yourself you look okay, even if you know others might see something different.

You step over to the sink and rinse your clammy hands under the cold water, letting it flow for a moment. You wipe your face with a rough paper towel, hoping to feel a bit more like yourself.

Your ears start ringing, and a headache begins to creep in. You can feel another nosebleed coming, evident from the stinging beneath your eyes. You make your way to one of the vacant stalls and pull a wad of toilet paper. It stings to wipe, wincing, you throw the tissue into the trash can outside in the hallway by the bathroom before hurrying to get to your first class.

⭒

You settle into the furthest seat from the teacher, right by the door. As your classmates fill the room, you feel their curious glances assessing you like some odd decoration. The sensation of being out of place is suffocating, making you want to slip away.

Then, you hear heavy boots approaching, and a wave of comfort washes over you as someone with a scent of pine and cigarettes sits beside you. “Hi, baby, how are you feeling?” he asks, his voice warm and familiar.

You turn to look at him, surprised that you don’t feel overwhelmed by his presence. Instead, he gazes at you with genuine admiration, not concern, which eases the tightness in your chest. You notice the pet names have become more frequent lately, but somehow, they don’t bother you as much as you expected.

“Hey, Eds, I’m okay,” you reply, your tone more subdued than you intend. He hums thoughtfully, clicking his tongue as he leans closer, effortlessly grabbing the leg of your chair to pull you nearer.

“You don’t have to put on a brave face around me,” he says softly, his eyes searching yours. “I’m here, you know. Whatever you need.”

“I know, Eds, I’m just… you know how it is. I was missing for two weeks.”

He glances at you again, finally turning to face the board as his hand blindly searches for yours. He interlinks your pinkies together and rubs his thumb against the top of your hand. You love him; he’s your best friend, but you love him. The thought of telling him feels too risky, too scary to soil the friendship, so you keep it to yourself.

The class stretches on, each second dragging like an eternity. Your head pounds, the weight of unprocessed information pressing down on you. When the bell finally rings, it feels more like a death knell than a relief. You start to pack up slowly, deliberately lingering, wanting to be the last one out.

You look up to find Eddie watching you, his gaze heavy with concern.

“Just waiting for you, sweetheart. Take as long as you need,” he says, his voice a soft balm against the oppressive silence. You offer him a faint smile, but it feels fragile, barely holding up against the weight of everything swirling in your mind.

You walk out together, Eddie animatedly recounting how Wayne just got a new car, his excitement filling the space between you. He’s so distracted that he doesn’t see the blonde in front of him until it’s too late.

“Ahh, sorry for running into you, baby. I was just telling Y/N about the new car I got for Wayne,” Eddie says, his voice light, unaware of the tension hanging in the air.

“It’s alright, Eddie, just please keep your head up next time,” Claire replies, her tone sharp and dismissive, as if her irritation lingers long after the words leave her mouth. The bite in her voice makes you feel smaller, the gloom returning like an unwelcome shadow.

You exchange a quick glance with Eddie, who seems oblivious to her tone, “Now, if you don’t mind,” Claire says, turning to you and clicking her gum. “We are going to be late.” She drags Eddie down the hall.

He looks back at you one last time, disappointment etched deep in his features. You give a small wave goodbye, feeling a knot in your stomach as they walk away.

Alone, you head to your next class. The rest of the day drags on, and you don’t see Eddie again.

The bell rings, signaling the end of your last class. You’ve never been so eager to leave.

As you step outside, cars rush by, each driver desperate to get home. You feel that urgency too. Crossing the parking lot, your boots splash through puddles, your umbrella heavy in your hand under the relentless downpour.

Then you see it.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie x you #eddie x reader angst #eddie x reader fluff #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things #eddie fic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic

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manias-wordcount · 11 months ago

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View of Paradise (Satoru Gojo x Reader) PART TWO

[𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙀 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘾𝙃𝙊𝘾𝙊𝙇𝘼𝙏𝙀 𝙁𝘼𝘾𝙏𝙊𝙍𝙔 𝘼𝙐]

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗼𝗵 𝘆𝗲𝗮𝗵 𝗶 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗯𝗮𝗯𝗹𝘆 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗴𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗿𝘀 (𝗺𝗮𝘆𝗯𝗲 𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽 𝗱𝘆𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗰𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘄. 𝗺𝗮𝘆𝗯𝗲? 𝗶 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝗟𝗢𝗟). 𝗮𝗹𝘀𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲'𝘀 𝗴𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗴𝗮𝗽 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗴𝗼𝗷𝗼. 𝘀𝗼𝗿𝗿𝘆, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗴 𝘄𝗼𝗻𝗸𝗮 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝗶𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝟰𝟳.

𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗴𝗮𝗽 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝗺𝘆 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝗮𝗯𝘀𝗼𝗹𝘂𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗹𝗲𝗴𝗮𝗹 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗴𝗼𝗷𝗼 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝘁 𝗠𝗢𝗦𝗧 𝟰𝟬 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗲𝘀-𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗴𝗮𝗽 𝗶𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘀𝗲 𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗻𝗸𝗮 𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗲'𝘀 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗴 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆. 𝘀𝗼𝗿𝗿𝘆 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗶 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝘂𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗟𝗠𝗔𝗢

𝗣𝗮𝗿𝘁: 𝗼𝗻𝗲 || 𝘁𝘄𝗼 || 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲 || 𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿 || 𝗳𝗶𝘃𝗲 || 𝘀𝗶𝘅 || 𝘀𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 || 𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 || 𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗲 || 𝘁𝗲𝗻 || 𝗲𝗹𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 || 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗹𝘃𝗲 || 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻 || 𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻 || 𝗳𝗶𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻 || 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲…

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

For the remainder of the day, you’re not in the best mood. But you try your hardest to be the best server you can possibly be either way.

It’s no surprise to everyone when your shoulders start to slump, and your customer service smile immediately disappears every time you step out of view and into the back of the house. Spending twenty minutes in your boss’ office getting chewed out for disappearing during a sudden order surge is going to do that to a girl. Luckily for you, he was willing to hear you out about what happened after minute fifteen. And so the next five minutes after that were just spent calling you names for not thinking to go around to the front door sooner, rather than blaming you for someone else’s actions entirely. In the end, you left the office with your spirits a little low, but your head still held high. It’s a win, sure. But it’s not a very big one. So you spend the remainder of your shift on your feet, hustling around a bit more than you usually do.

It’s the least you could do now that your boss has his eye on you after letting you leave his office with just a warning. Besides, dinner doesn’t pay for itself. And a paying customer deserves a big and bright smile whenever they pop into Zenin Diner! A few hours of pretending to be as happy and as perky as one can be never killed you before, and it certainly won’t kill you now. It’s all you can do. So you do it well.

Stepping back onto the floor gives you a lot to do. The diner is huge. Bright colors on the walls and posters of all the greatest pop culture moments happening on TV and the radio. There's music that plays too loud. And lights that shine too bright. But it was a welcomed change in your hometown that started a little after the gloomy factories started to pop up all over the place. You still remember bits and pieces of it happening when you were a little girl. Your home was already such a quiet, gloomy place. And the new factories smogging up the skies didn’t make things feel much better, even if they did offer a place for people like your dad to try to earn a better living.

It took the Gojo Candy Craze from when you were much younger starting up around the whole world, and the main factory belonging to Mr. Gojo himself being built in your town to get Mr. Zenin to allow such a big change in his own diner. And now, twenty years later, booths and seats and tables in red, yellow, green, blue, and purple are crammed here and there and just about everywhere with a large, fancy, shiny counter and a bunch of stools sitting in front of it to boot. The real, authentic diner feel. At least, real like the ones you see on the TVs at work.

Zenin Diner is open from five in the morning to half past eight o’clock at night. Though you’re lucky if you can make it out of here in a reasonable amount of time on the nights that you close. And even then, during the in-betweens of the usual lunch and dinner rush, there’s plenty of work to be done. At the moment, seven other girls are working the floor with you. Some had been here since the doors opened. Some had arrived at eight to handle the morning crowd like you. And some had just started their shift after swapping out with the morning girls. Same with a few of the chefs back in the kitchen.

Though naturally, head chef Nanami makes it to hour nine of his shift with little to no issues arising- ready to face the rest of the day. It’s no surprise to you though. That man has been working here since you were still a young girl. And it’s his dedication to his job that keeps you on your feet today, still doing your best to make up for your mistakes. Well, that, and the promise of him sending you home with whatever scraps are still edible at the end of the day if you manage to make his work day a bit easier.

So the second you come out of your boss’ office, you’re busing tables for other sections and checking up on yours constantly. Popping by with drinks and fresh silverware just in the nick of time while engaging in pleasantries with both newcomers and your regulars alike. You’re serving everything with care, precision, and speed. Never without your notepad or a couple of napkins and straws in your apron pocket. Never without a pep in your step either. After all, your customers gotta eat. And your family does as well.

So you make sure everything in your section comes out piping hot and ready and correct. You’re so on top of your game that you managed to catch a moment when even your personal friend and seasoned chef, Toge, forgets a garnish on one of your regular’s Shrimp and Grits. He’s more than appreciative that you noticed. And frankly, you are too when the old lady who ordered it pushes a two-dollar tip in your hands and tells you that everything was perfect. Though it pales in comparison to the time when you and Nobara manage to help catch a bowl of pipping hot tomato soup before head waitress (and one of the owner’s very own daughters) Mai drops it after stacking her tray too full. And although her cheeks are tinted a little red, she doesn’t say anything to you or Nobrara about helping prevent a disaster from happening. In the end, it’s another waitress named Kasumi who's thanking the two of you. But it doesn’t slow you down. Not one bit.

So you spend the rest of the day making recommendations and accommodations and corrections here and there. Noting down changes to orders- big and little. And remembering allergies and dietary restrictions and silly little things your customers ask for that almost have you rolling your eyes. Almost.

When a glass goes crashing to the ground, you’re the first to grab the broom and dust pan to sweep up all the shards. When a bottle of sauce is knocked out of a hand and onto the table, you’re already there with napkins- dabbing it up and seeing if everyone’s shirts were spared. Even Mr. Zenin can’t help but murmur a “good job” to you a couple of hours after the incident had passed when he spots you saving a toddler from flipping a plate of food into their own lap. Today wasn’t a great start, sure. You’ve had much better days- everyone has. But you’re making the most of it. You’re going through the motions. You’re trying your best. You’re rising to the challenge. No matter how hard that challenge ends up being.

And by the time you start to notice just how tired your facial muscles are from all that service with a smile, your name is being called again. And finally- it’s because of some good news.

“Hey, Okkotsu!” You hear from across the diner. Maki’s voice. The owner’s other daughter and one of the girls you’re more friendly with despite her general indifference towards just about everyone in the world. Maybe she has a task for you…

“On it!” You call back in response to let her know that you’ll be there in just a moment before turning back to the task at hand. You’re at a table currently. Picking up the empty cups and used napkins and placing them on your tray as you finish cleaning the last table in one of your sections. A quick peak outside at the large window in front of you gives you a surprise though.

It’s dark outside. Really, really dark. When had it turned nighttime? When had the sun set? You’re not quite sure, but you glance at one of the decorative, retro-style clocks on the diner wall to see if it will give you some answers. But as you spot the hands saying that it’s just about ten minutes to closing, you find that you left with more questions than answers this time. Oh well.

There’s no use dwelling on it now. Not when your body (your poor feet, in particular) is starting to feel the effect of the twelve-hour shift you just pulled. You’ll think about it later, you decide as you pile the rest of the trash onto your tray and turn on your heel towards the sound of Maki’s voice and the kitchen trash cans.

When you arrive at where Maki’s standing, you’re met with the familiar figure of your little brother Yuuta sitting at the diner’s counter, slumped over a sheet of homework. She’s on the other side of the counter, cleaning cups and drying them with Nobara as they stand over him and direct him on a pre-algebra problem. The two of them are getting a little frustrated, and you can tell that even from far away, there was a little bit of bickering between the two of them on how to correctly use the order of operations to solve this problem. Your poor little brother looks a little flustered and overwhelmed with the two much older girls shooting sharp words back and forth in front of him. So you do your best not to add to that trouble too much when you swoop and tell him hello with a kiss on his cheek.

Naturally, you’re laughing as Yuuta’s face goes bright red with embarrassment as he tries to wipe furiously at the spot your lips touched. It’s the job of an older sister to embarrass her baby brother after all. So it’s expected when he’s mumbling a half-baked reply with an unimpressed look on his face in response to you telling him that you’d be back in a moment. But as you brush past your bickering co-workers and go to disappear behind the counter and into the kitchen, you’re just able to spot him reaching for the glass of ice water on the counter right next to him and take a big gulp to get out of tiebreaker vote Nobrara and Maki had just turned onto him. Smart choice.

Though, he doesn’t seem grateful for your existence when you let another little laugh slip. But the Yuuta you know is too well-behaved to tell you off for laughing at him. So you’re able to disappear into the kitchen without so much of a fuss in the end. Not everyone is lucky enough to have a bunch of big sister figures looking out for them all the time. But then again, not everyone is unlucky enough to be stuck between a duo like Nobara and Maki when tensions are high like this. Oh well! Not your problem right now. Yuuta will be fine, though.

You think at least.

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phanfictioncatalogue · 2 months ago

Text

Fics With Titles That Start With Y (3) Masterlist

part one, part two

You and I, We don't wanna be like them (ao3) - phasamtasie

Summary: Phil tries to appear cool when Dan comes to visit him for the first time, but struggles to fall asleep without his favourite plushie. When he admits to his secret, Dan answers with a confession of his own that inspires Phil’s first christmas gift to Dan.

You and Me (ao3) - Scuddleduck

Summary: Birthday sex after Dan's birthday livestream

you and me (that's all we need it to be) (ao3) - bunnyslipper

Summary: 🧡

you can hear the river from my burial bed (ao3) - jonsaremembers

Summary: "And then Dan's flat on his back, looking up at Phil with worshipful eyes, all but supplicating, begging, as Phil looms over him like he's the god and Dan the mere mortal."

Dan brings Phil home for good.

"You look at my face a lot" (ao3) - natigail

Summary: Phil has a pretty new eyebrow slit but Dan decides that he could use a little make-up to highlight it. They end up in bed with Dan hovering close to Phil's face trying to do a good job while he's also trying not to ravish him or get (too) sappy.

you make me happy when skies are gray (ao3) - howell_slide

Summary: “Did you mean it, Phil?” Dan asks, knowing the answer, but needing Phil to confirm it before the imprint is permanent. Dan pulls away from Phil just enough to see his face—he needs to see Phil right now. Somehow, Dan finds his eyes, barely visible in the darkness, and sees those blue eyes starting to shine with tears.

“I did.” Phil speaks resolutely, with no ounce of hesitation present in his voice. It’s the most serious Dan has ever heard Phil be, and he knows that Phil is telling the truth.

you'll find me waiting here for you. (ao3) - commonemergency

Summary: Walking down the streets of London is like walking down a ghost town, missing people posters filled the streets along with trash and cars. They’ve had many discussions of relocating somewhere safer, somewhere with more possibilities of food and other resources, but it’s hard letting go of the place that shaped you. or Dan and Phil (+ two lesbians) vs. a post apocalyptic world.

you're gonna love me (i'm gonna make you) (ao3) - handsandknees

Summary: At the end of the day they tear each other apart in preparation of putting each other back together. They glide together, in a poorly lit room on a shitty carpet in Manchester, and in the heat thick air on a balcony in Singapore. This is what love is.

you’re home (ao3) - ordanary (ghostsofjersey)

Summary: They’re halfway through the tour and Dan’s feeling homesick and guilty, so Phil reminds him that home is a feeling, not a place.

You’re Not Alone (ao3) - MiraculousBookworm02

Summary: “Hey Phil? What’s with the mistletoe?”

“I just, you know, kept thinking about all those Christmas movies with mistletoe in them and thought it would make a nice addition to the flat.”

"You're the one Buffy" (ao3) - thewakeless

Summary: Phil Lester, and his ethereal, eternal, and (at times) all-consuming affection for Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Frequently featuring a certain whiny and jealous boyfriend.

you're the only place I call home (ao3) - t_hens

Summary: With one world tour already under their belts, Phil thought the second one would be a piece of cake, but as they're finishing up the American leg, the exhaustion is settling deep in his bones. He's craving more of their London home than the tiny taste his blue and green pillow can offer him. He can't quite understand why Dan isn't feeling the same homesickness he's experiencing, until he realizes that home has been a little closer than the 5,000 miles away that he thought it was the whole time.

Your eyes look like coming home. (ao3) - smallbump

Summary: Another week passes of Dan and Phil being utterly in love, they're ending it on top of a mountain, saying yes.

(TW) Your Freudian Slip (ao3) - TheOceanIsMyInkwell

Summary: “Why the fountain?”

“I don’t know. I guess I needed to feel something.”

“You feel a lot of things.”

“Not this, on most days. Not clean.”

Trans!ftm!Phil Lester is trying to start a new life at university away from his abuser, but the grip of his past seems impossible to erase. Though his best friend from online, Dan Howell, saves him from his thoughts by showing up on his doorstep one New Year's Eve, nothing is at it seems on the surface. Thrust together at the darkest time of their lives, Dan and Phil have yet to trust one another with their secrets. Then an accidental kiss, a crisis of sexuality and a subpoena for a court appearance all begin to unravel the web of pretense.

you look so good it hurts (in my favorite t-shirt) (ao3) - phantasticworks (steddieworks)

Summary: Phil is gifted with a "Mega Dilf" shirt. Guess who picked that shirt out?

your love is my drug (ao3) - antiadvil

Summary: Phil wakes up with a migraine.

your love is my turning page (ao3) - buggieb

Summary: “If it’s okay, I’d like to send an email to the rescue center. Ask about a meeting for her.”

Dan pauses to mull it over, but it’s not even a full five seconds later when he says, “Alright.”

“Good, because I already did, and we’re meeting her this Friday,” Phil says, patting Dan’s knee and scampering away.

Dan wants to be upset, but instead, he throws his head back and laughs.

or the one where dan and phil get a dog

Your Mind Is A Wonder and Your Eyes are the Stars (ao3) - ThingsThatRuinedMyLife

Summary: Phil is an aspiring writer and is happily married to his high school sweetheart Sara. He has finally found peace after running from his past for so long. That is, until he meets a cocky, leather wearing, ill-mannered man in a coffee shop and everything he's ever known is altered. Including his perception on love, self acceptance, and morals. Will Phil take the risk his heart has always yearned for? Or will he forever be tied down by his past?

your own little universe (ao3) - larry_hystereks

Summary: dan considers his existence irrelevant, minuscule compared to the complexity of the entire universe. and then he meets phil, who's strange and likes plants, and leaves dan with a sense of intrigue he hasn't felt in years.

or in which dan's an existentialist, phil wants to be a gardener, and the duo journey into a new beginning neither quite foresaw.

#phanfic #phanfictioncatalogue #phan #phanfiction #dan and phil #masterlists #ficsy #ficsy masterlist

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cinnaminyoons · 2 years ago

Text

( OMNIA VINCIT AMOR. )

ミ☆ at the end of the day, there is no home like your arms.

⤷ PAIRING jjk x m!reader

⤷ WORD COUNT 7.4k

⤷ TAGS surfer!jk, inferred sex + implied top reader, slight age gap (jk’s 20, reader is somewhere noticeably above him), an angry father (jk’s), mentions of bullying

⤷ REQUESTED

link to req

stranger danger. disruptive stranger, endangering our coastal constancy.

there's a newcomer, they say, an odd fellow with city-slicker shades and a natural toughness about him like a veteran.

but that's the thing, they whisper. he can't be a veteran. too young. too reckless.

born and raised in his tiny seaside town, population three hundred strong, jeon jungkook has never met anyone who circulates such rumours and gossip. most fresh faces are tourists passing through to prettier sights where the aircon always works and the hot water never runs cold – but this man, they say, has intentions to stay a while.

like every evening, jungkook loiters in the only bar in town. it's a dump, really, with perpetually-sticky countertops and eclectic interior design choices. creased and faded posters line the walls, depicting the town's idyllic shore, with blue skies and bluer waters. on the wall, the same old man has been the employee of the year seventeen times, and the only thing that changes about him is the colour of his shirt.

the only good thing he can say of the place is that it serves alcohol he can't buy at the single supermarket, and that they don’t care who’s drinking unless they’re visually no older than fifteen. he flicks the blue umbrella into the bin carelessly and throws the drink back, hissing softly at the smooth fruity burn down his throat. he gestures for another and the old man complies silently, shuffling around behind the counter as he wipes down the same glass he's been shining for the last hour.

somewhere outside, past the open doors, the deep rumble of a v8 engine perks his ears. it's a gorgeous sound, pleasingly smooth and powerful, and it comes with the heavy crunch of car tires on gravel. ice cubes rattle against his glass.

his feet take him outside, and he peers cautiously around the corner like a child playing hide-and-seek. there, pooled in the sweet honey of the summer sunset, is the stranger.

the slight breeze runs its fingers over his hair, and something like jealousy slips between his ribs as he watches the stranger nudge the door open. in his hand is an engraved silver lighter and he stuffs it into the pocket of his army-green bomber, which he shrugs off of straight shoulders. beneath, he dons a black tank top, and jungkook's breath catches in his throat as his gaze slides over his body, the way his muscles tense and shift as he rolls his shoulders and slings a guitar case over his back.

at first, the inky darkness looping around his arms and shoulders seems like a trick of the light. jungkook's eyes widen – tattoos. a hundred, a thousand, precise black lines cross his skin, glossy with the slight sheen of sweat under the summer sun.

when he turns, jungkook catches a flash of his eyes behind those dark aviators. jungkook spins on his heel behind the door, his heart racing, and prays he was not caught staring.

after a moment's pause, the crunching footsteps stride away, and jungkook sighs softly in relief. he peeks around the corner. a pebble of disappointment drops in his stomach.

the first good-looking guy he sees, and he's a creep about it. he shakes his head, squeezing lingering seawater out of his hair by the handfuls, and pushes it out of his eyes as he returns to his place at the bar.

mechanically, he moves to throw away the umbrella toothpick, this time yellow with pink flowers. he halts just as he leans back to toss it into the bin.

he stares at it for a while, tilting his head. a slumping hollowness fills the gap in his chest. he's no longer a young boy, and all he's ever known are the dusty streets and salty air of this town. the stranger must be from a big, modern city, where they have bright digital billboards and warm restaurants open all day, every day – like seoul or new york, or something. he's seen the movies, watched them subbed and dubbed, but he never remembers much except for the quick chaotic swirl of life they all portray.

maybe, if he was born there instead, he could love. be loved. a church sits across from the bar, rather ironically, and nothing is a family except a man, a woman, and their child born in wedlock.

he shakes his head and crushes the thin yellow paper in his hand, tossing it away. he wouldn't know what to do with himself if he left.

night falls slowly. jungkook nurses another drink, this one blue instead of orange, and draws hearts and smiley faces into the condensation dripping down the glass.

a glint of light. jungkook glances over to the back wall, where a single chair has been set up in front of the wood-framed window. there's no glass – too hot for that – and they're thrown wide open, letting in the cool sea breeze. the waves glitter and twinkle in the background.

the stranger is setting up. he slips his sunglasses to the top of his head and jungkook drinks him in, alcohol forgotten entirely.

amongst the chatter, he sets up his guitar, tuning it quietly. the bar has no sound system but the acoustic guitar is clear and sharp as he strums a slow introduction to a sweet melody.

when he opens his mouth and honeyed lyrics spill out, jungkook knows he's fucked, knee-deep in the shit they call infatuation. the rest of the world seems to melt away, and maybe it's the way his fingers dance nimbly over the fretboard, or the way his head bobs to the bouncing tune, that makes his heart race rabbit-free with desire.

a man sits down with his mates and jungkook leans around them to watch the stranger sing. he radiates a careless confidence jungkook wishes he had everywhere. this man was a complete outsider, yet his voice was strong, rich and smooth as godiva chocolate.

jungkook snickers to himself. he never thought he'd meet anyone whose voice he'd compare to goddamn chocolate, but this stranger was a whole list of firsts.

he lays his cheek on his palm, and he doesn't even mind the sticky counter. he wonders where the man comes from, and how he came across the town – it barely shows up on maps, barely a smudge of civilisation on the coast, far from most other things. he sticks out like a sore thumb among sandals and pale polo shirts with his dark clothes and heavy boots, and jungkook knows the feeling. he appreciates the way his skin shimmers in the sunlight as if dusted with crushed pearls, and a bolt of shame buries itself in his stomach.

he shouldn't be thinking such things about this man. he's a perfect stranger and, for all jungkook knows, a hockey mask-wearing, machete-wielding killer. he can't go gallivanting after gorgeous men without even knowing their names.

time passes like a snap of the fingers. the crescent moon glows in the sky, surrounded by a blanket of stars. the last bar patrons gulp down their drinks and mosey out, calling goodbyes to the employee of the year, and the newcomer packs away his guitar into its case. he kicks the chair back under a nearby table and nods at the old man, accepting a wad of cash, and escapes out the back entrance.

"time to go, boy."

he glances up and nods, rushing an apology, and leaves his half-finished drink on the counter. he almost trips over his own bare feet, and races to the door when he hears that lovely v8 engine roar.

he reaches the entrance in time to watch his car pull out and rumble off into the darkness. he was fast – not one to fluff about. jungkook sighs softly, sinking down onto the porch step and shutting his eyes gloomily.

he had to go home. there was no other excuse he could make.

his eyes open, and as he struggles to his feet, something shines on the edge of the yellow light. he frowns and moves closer, stooping to get a closer look.

a watch?

he glances into the distance, where the man left, and picks it up. the face is cracked down the centre, and the hands are stuck at ten past five. he turns it over in his hands.

i think of you every minute.

he needs to find him.

—

jungkook wakes just before dawn with a raging hangover. he curses, dropping his hand into his bedside drawer and digging around for a pack of painkillers. he finds it eventually, and with his eyes screwed tight, swallows one dry. he sighs and digs the heels of his palms into his eyelids, waiting for the blurring colours dancing in his vision to fade.

he staggers around his mess of a bedroom. his belongings are strewn across the foot of the bed and the desk he no longer uses; the latter is piled high with dirty clothes and jewellery he rarely wears.

he grabs his surf suit and gropes his way through the dark house, dodging his surfboard leaning against the wall and combing his fingers through his curls as he readies himself for the day. his mind wanders and his gaze flicks to the broken watch sitting on the kitchen bench.

he runs his fingers over its vein-line splits and the bumps of the leather strap, worn down with time. he nibbles on his lower lip as he picks it up, battling himself. would it be weird to give it back directly? he wouldn't seem like a stalker, would he?

he sighs and shoves it into the pocket of his zip-up hoodie. he'll make up his mind later.

he spends the early morning forgetting his issues, reclining on his board while the waters bump him out to sea. the waves are calm this morning, and not even the pull of the water towards shore keeps him in place. with just a few strokes he escapes the pull like escaping orbit, and he catches every wave he can, grinning to himself when the white froth crashes over him and sends him tumbling down. he surfaces, wiping his hair from his eyes, and paddles his way to the edge of an oncoming wave, highlighted pink by the glow of the dawn.

when the sun yawns over the horizon, jungkook notices a figure by the sand. he squints, wondering briefly who would be up at such an hour, and doesn't notice the wave roaring closer behind him. he yelps as it crashes into him, burying him under the fluffy white foam.

he gasps and sputters as he crawls back onto his green and purple board, grumbling – he hasn't been wiped out like that for years.

the figure on the beach watches him. he hopes they didn't notice his fumble. they move along the beach, trailing dark footprints in the sand, and jungkook tilts his head as they take a seat against the pier's support beams. they remove something from their back and jungkook's eyes widen at the distinct shape of an acoustic guitar.

he smacks his head against his board. he made a fool out of himself in front of an attractive person – briefly, he wonders how hard it would be to get a shark to eat him at that very moment.

whether or not he should return the watch crosses his mind as the water laps around his knees. it is of no use to jungkook, and it must be important to the man if he carries it around. some selfish part of him urges him to keep silent, avoid the embarrassment of having to speak to someone so obviously out of his league. he sighs.

slowly, he paddles his way to shore, tugging the strap around his ankle impatiently, and retrieves the watch from his jacket pocket after drying his hand on it. his pile of clothes sits inconspicuously under a tree, and nothing he owns is expensive enough to care about losing. no one steals, anyway – they would find the perpetrator in minutes.

he wades through the foamy shallows with his board under his arm and the watch in his other hand. his footprints vanish in his wake with each pulse of the waves, and the warm sound of that guitar makes him gulp and revaluate his choice.

he can still turn around. he does not have to speak to him.

he pauses a metre away from him. he is as stunning as he was the night before, and he's switched out his form-fitting black top for a looser grey tank. jungkook swallows around his anxiety and clears his throat.

he glances up at him through those dark aviators and jungkook twitches a nervous smile. he sticks his board into the soft sand and waves.

"hello." his voice cracks. his face burns furiously as the man smiles slightly, lopsided and charming.

"hey."

his voice really is like chocolate. jungkook wrings his hands and thrusts out the watch.

"i think this is yours," he stammers, "i f-found it outside the bar, and it was where your car was and it's way too nice for anyone here to own it so i thought – so i think it's y-yours. um."

a beat. the man reaches for it, and he slides his thumb over its face with an odd sort of smile, somewhere between gratefulness and regret.

"thank you," he murmurs. he chuckles softly and fastens it over his wrist. "guess i can’t escape it. i'm yn, by the way. ln yn."

"jeon jungkook," he says, almost too eagerly. "i, um, heard you sing last night. at the bar. you were – you're really good."

another smile that has his heart slamming into his ribs. "thanks. didn't think anyone was listening, honestly."

"how could i not?" he kneels on the sand, tucking his feet beneath him. he crawls closer into acceptable conversation distance. "you were amazing! when i was little i always wanted to be a singer, y'know, perform like the idols i saw on television, 'cause it looked so fun and full with fans and a whole band of best friends who i could trust with anything but it's been twenty years and i'm so old and i still haven't gotten around to it—" he halts mid-word as if it is stolen right from his mouth. he laughs and scratches his warm cheek. "and... i'm rambling again, aren't i? sorry. i'm, um, not all that good with people. kind of paradoxical, given that i wanted to be an entertainer."

your smile only widens, fingers tapping absently at your guitar. "you're fine. you said something about twenty years of that? how old are you?"

"twenty." he laughs again, then worries that he's laying it on too thick. "w-what about you?"

you tell him, and grin. "i'm steadily getting up there, so don't you go thinking you're old, kid. who knows – maybe one day you'll get that stage and microphone you've been dreaming about."

he shakes his head, digging his fingers into the soft sand by his knees. "nah. i don't really think i'd be able to leave this place. s'all i've ever known, y'know? it's daunting." he leans forward. "but you'd never feel like that, right? you look like you've travelled the world three times over."

you glance over him, and all of a sudden his skin-tight suit feels invisible, hugging every curve and plane of him. "i do, huh? you seem like you want more than what you're given."

his mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water and he pulls at his collar, hot. was that a compliment? an insult? he hasn't had a proper conversation with anyone for what feels like aeons.

you nudge his thigh with the toe of your boot playfully. "i was wrong, actually. you look like a steaming kettle."

"i-i'm sorry!" he almost squeaks. "i don't know how to talk to attractive people!"

he slaps a hand over his mouth and bolts to his feet. you gaze up at him with amusement and he stutters apologies and backtracks, shaking his head wildly and waving his hands.

he's doing nothing to get him out of the hole he's digging for himself. in fact, he's digging it even deeper.

"hey, hey," you interrupt with a bright grin, "kid. calm down. just – deep breaths, okay? i'm flattered you think that."

"r-really?" this is why he stays at sea. the sea never judges him for his terrible social skills. "oh."

you nod and shuffle to the side, patting the sand next to you. "why don't you sit for a while? i... want to get to know you better."

he does not trust his voice to remain steady, and only nods and sits on his feet next to you. after a moment, he shifts cross-legged, those doe-like eyes of his glimmering as he gazes at you with barely-hidden awe.

you strum your guitar. he traces the shape of your knuckles and fingers with his eyes. you wear a few rings, and your knuckles are big, but not scarred. a boxer? they wear gloves.

"won't the salt air rust your guitar?"

"it shouldn't," you reply. "i'll give the strings a good wipe-down afterwards, and i make sure she's acclimated to wherever i'm taking her. haven't had any problems so far."

he nods, fascinated. he tucks his knees to his chest, watching you play.

your fingers move so naturally, fluttering over the frets as you bob along to a quick tune. it feels powerful and sharp, and the melody flows so freely – like rivers splitting mountains.

then, you begin to sing.

jungkook's heart flutters, as if he's a teenager all over again, watching the popular boys from the corner of his eye laugh and chat with their friends. he never could go over there, introduce himself. quiet boy, odd boy, with his stutter and lisp and silly, silly crushes – he never found comfort in people. they said, run, rabbit, run, and chased him with sticks even when he told them to stop. he was the youngest, always, with his too-big t-shirts and his owlish gaze, and he supposes that's his curse – to be the last one chosen for teams, the only one left without a group for projects.

but then you glance at him, smiling through your song, with your elaborate tattoos and pretty eyes, and jungkook hopes you'll never leave. maybe, if you were nice, you would be his friend – his first friend. maybe you'd stay forever, and maybe he could hold your hand and play with the rings on your fingers when he grows anxious.

"how long are you staying?" he whispers.

you stop singing, but your fingers continue to float over the guitar, plucking and strumming. "a few months, maybe. i take it you've heard some things about me?"

"one of the aunties says you're an army deserter, but i don't think so."

you lift a brow and nudge his shoulder. he smiles into his crossed arms. "how would you know? maybe i am. maybe i'm an assassin and my guitar's actually a gun, like in john wick."

"no," he decides, "i think you're a gangster doing a drug run. mister park's your supplier, right? bartender man?"

you can't help but laugh at that, throwing your head back. he smiles as you shift your guitar, still beaming. "gangster? it's the tattoos, isn't it?"

"w-well, they're really awesome, and they look good on you." he flushes hotly, staring with his large dark eyes. "honest."

"thanks, jungkook," you say good-naturedly, and he warms at the sound of his name on your lips. you say it with such a lovely lilt, as if you're saying his name for him – as if it belongs to him. he nods into his arms, watching the sun rise over the fluffy pink horizon.

"you're welcome," he murmurs, and his heart stutters as you chuckle. "h-hey. do you know how to swim?"

you tilt your head and jungkook shifts onto his knees before you. "yeah. why?"

"have you ever surfed before?"

"can't say that i have." you glance at his board, planted in the sand, and give him a sly look. "if you're offering to show me how, i don't have the right clothes for it."

"you can just take off your pants and shoes." at your dirty grin, his golden skin flushes so dark you worry he might explode. "n-not like that! you can leave your underwear on!"

it isn’t much of an improvement.

"slow down, cowboy," you tease, patting his thigh. "have you eaten breakfast yet? i'll make you something first. then you can ask me to take my pants off."

"wait, you mean – at your place?"

"of course. i trust you not to give the government the coordinates of my safehouse. so, have any favourite meals, jungkook? not to toot my own horn, but i'm not half-bad in the kitchen."

handsome, nice voice, can cook... only god can help him, because he is smitten.

—

jungkook wakes up late one day. the sun is already up, and from the way it streams directly into his eyes – ten o'clock, maybe. he curls into the blankets and buries his head into his pillow, tugging it into his chest.

something smells good.

he sits up slowly, struggling to open his eyes, and stretches like a cat in a bed too large to be his own. his body aches, but its familiarity makes him smile, and he swings his legs over the edge of the bed into a pair of slides. he shuffles out of the bedroom, following his nose.

rounding the dining table, jungkook searches with his hands outstretched towards the sound and smell of sizzling bacon. he finds a t-shirt and wraps his arms around it, inhaling the comforting scent of your fresh pine and citrus body wash. he feels your laughter as he presses his cheek into your shoulder.

"good morning, kid."

"i told you to stop calling me that," jungkook mumbles.

"i'm sorry, darling. force of habit. you hungry?"

"mhm. hyung, wanna come out with me today?"

"you know that i'll never be as good as you, right? i don't look half as good as you on that board, either."

he shakes his head, pressing his lips to the base of your neck on the bump of your spine. "s’okay. i like watching you come out of the water."

you laugh and jungkook smiles softly. "you're insatiable."

"only for you."

you shake your head fondly as jungkook sighs quietly into your skin, warm breath fluttering against your shirt. you transfer the bacon to a plate and move out of jungkook's arms, making him whine. begrudgingly, he accepts a plate of eggs, bringing them to the table – you tuck his hair over his ear and slip it over his shoulder, clearing a space for your lips on the nape of his neck. he shivers as your lips trail down his jawline, over his collar, down his shoulder...

"who's the insatiable one now?" he asks, feathery light, and his eyes flutter shut as your hand slips under his shirt, gliding over his warm stomach.

"still you," you hum into his ear, grinning as he arches into you. "see? my little darling, so eager for my touch..."

he whines softly as you take his earring between your teeth and tug lightly. his stomach flips like a gymnast as you grab his thighs and spin him into the kitchen bench. late morning light sweeps in across your home, and everything cold and lonely outside these walls vanishes.

he smiles as he pushes lightly at your arms around his waist, tilting his head back to allow your lips better access to the delicate slope of his neck. "hyung... our breakfast will go cold..."

"that's alright," you murmur with a devilish grin. "i've got other things on the menu."

he rolls his eyes good-naturedly, a flush crawling up his neck. "you can have me tonight like usual, okay? i like routine."

you drop a kiss on his jaw and step back with a teasing shine in your eyes. you place your hands on your hips. "you know, if you only wanted me for my body, you could've told me. i wouldn't have gone to all the trouble of learning how you like your eggs and toast."

hopping off of the bench and into your arms, jungkook twists his hands around the back of your neck and rubs his cheek into your chest. his messy hair, scented always like the sea, tickles your skin.

"but i love that about you," he hums. "you're the only person who understands how i like them done."

"i know you do." you kiss his forehead, printing a minty tingle into his skin. "come eat. if you'd like, you can accompany me to the supermarket after breakfast – in case you've grown tired of staring at the water, day in and day out."

"i like the water. it's comforting – like the stars." he sits down at the table. "always there, always has been, always will be. everlasting – like my love for your eggs and toast."

you laugh, head tossing back, and jungkook can't help the smile that crosses his face. "they're so good that they turn you into a poet, huh? just shut up and eat, darling."

afterwards, he tags along with you to go grocery shopping, holding onto your shirt sleeve and sneaking a tub of ice cream into the trolley when you aren't looking. he huffs, pouting at the tiny cabbage halves sold as individuals – what a rip-off – and you help him find a larger one, nice and bright, from the basket beneath. he jumps onto your kitchen bench and catches an apple you toss at him, digging his teeth into its firm flesh and tearing off a crisp chunk. he tells you, it's a good one, and holds it out for you to accept. with your hands full of milk and bread, you lean forward and take a bite, keeping his gaze steadily all the way; sweeter than sugar, you say, and he wonders whether or not you're truly talking about the apple.

at high tide, jungkook takes your hand and his surfboard and skips his way to the beach, taking warm sandy paths lined by tickling reeds and brushes. he chases the tide, waving over his shoulder with a broad smile, and shows off for you as he drops onto the incoming beast of a wave.

his board glimmers on the water, a spot of purple on the deep blue, and his whoop carries on the wind as he launches himself high into the air, effortlessly gliding down in a perfect barrel roll. the foaming curl rolls over him and he snakes back and forth, cutting his hand through the glittering wave as he readies himself for his next trick.

you stand ankle-deep in the tide, hands in the pockets of your shorts. the curve of the shoreline twists around sun-bleached cliffsides and swaying treetops, and a young trio tries their hand at the next rolling wave. one rudely snakes in front of jungkook and immediately wipes out with a wobble and a cry.

you smile. they could never outshine your darling surfer boy, bright and beautiful as he is.

when the water recedes for the day, jungkook sweeps ashore by the pier. you wait for him – as you do most days – and grin under dark aviators, two ice-creams wrapped in white napkins in your hands. he races up to you and throws his arms wide around your shoulders with a breathless laugh.

you stumble at the force behind his body, narrowly avoiding rubbing ice-cream into his hair. "easy, tiger. fun day?"

"yeah," he pants, "so fun. you saw me, right? you saw?"

"i saw," you hum, pressing the warmth of his dark salt-damp waves against your cheek. "you were a goddamn monster, riding those big waves like that – couldn't take my eyes off of you, darling."

"i'm good at riding big things." he's spent too much time with you. he barely blushes anymore, which is a right shame – it's a lovely look on him, that hint of rosy pink on skin like spun gold. he traces the tattoo peeking out under your collar. "you would know."

"are you sure we're on the same page? maybe you should show me again," you suggest with a glint in your eye that leads to nothing but trouble, "to make sure that i know exactly what you're talking about."

he grins, eyes crinkling at the corners, and reaches for your hand without breaking gazes. he brings your hand to his warm pink lips and kisses your knuckles, running his silky tongue over the thick white cream, and his golden-whiskey eyes glimmer under the sun.

"yummy," he hums, "vanilla. the best out of the basic three – wouldn't you agree?"

"mm." he's a goddamn tease. what you wouldn't give to return the favour tenfold.

"hyung," he laughs, licking up the melting ice-cream cone in your hand, "my eyes are up here."

"but your lips are down there, and all of a sudden i'm very sure we were on the same page just now. are you done playing in the water for today?"

he purses his lips in mock thought, scooping ice-cream into his mouth with the tip of his tongue. "what happens if i say no?"

"then i'll tell you that there's a car over there, one that you seem to adore, that boasts tinted windows and sturdy suspension. haven't you always wanted to... take a ride in it?"

his face lights up. "wait, are you serious?"

"finish your ice-cream before you get in. please. otherwise, you're cleaning up any mess you make on those seats."

he winks and grabs his board, tucking it under his arm. "you won't regret this, baby."

"i'll be the judge of that, darling."

—

light warm fingers trace dark lines embedded in your skin. "what does it mean?"

he shivers as your arm cradles him close. "hm?"

"your tattoos," he whispers, warm honey eyes flickering up to yours. "do they mean anything?"

you turn on your side and smile at him, letting him twist his knees around your calves. he is warm, and soft, and the ocean breeze flutters through your sheer curtain drapes. "the big ones don't, really. i was young and stupid and wanted to look like more of a man, whatever the fuck that meant. dragons are cool. tigers are cool. why not get both?"

he laughs softly, eyes crinkling. "i like the dragon. he feels... alive, y'know, when you stretch and move your arms? like his wings are flapping."

"i'm glad you think so," you murmur, stroking his cheek. "hurt like a bitch when the lady doing it went over my spine."

he laughs again, sweet and innocent, and he places his palm beneath his cheek. he taps your chest, gently scraping his nails down your skin. "when i first saw you, i never thought you'd ever look at me twice. funny how things work out."

you tug him closer, linking your fingers over his shoulders with a content sigh. "you're a real pretty surprise, kook, you know that?"

he doesn't need to ask if it's a good thing. he knows it is from the way your lips linger on his forehead longer than they need to. he closes his eyes and smiles secretly into your skin.

"hey, kook?"

"mm?"

"are you happy?"

"of course i am, dummy." he sits up, propping himself up on his elbows. "want me to prove it to you?"

you narrow your eyes at him and he grins, kissing his index and middle finger and touching them to your cheek.

"how was it? did you feel the happiness?"

"i'm not completely sure. i think something fell off during transit."

he rolls his eyes and leans forward to land a big kiss on the same place on your cheek. "there you go, hyung. i love you."

you nod in satisfaction, brushing away the rebellious curl over his forehead that never stays back, no matter what he does to it. "thank you."

"are you going to say it back?"

"say what back?"

he yanks your pillow out from under your head and smacks it into your face.

"ow, ow – i love you! i love you," you laugh, battling the pillow, "i love you!"

you manage to steal it from him and he grabs his own, lifting it high above his head. you catch the pillow before it comes down on you like heaven raining down righteous fury. he squeaks as you tug it across your body, pulling him along until his face hovers an inch from your own.

against his own will, his eyes dart briefly down to your lips.

the next smile you give him is charged with familiar affection. "i love you – i love my darling surfer boy with galaxies in his eyes."

"better," he breathes, "for now. one day, i'll get you back for that."

your smile fades. a crease mars your brow as you place your hand on his hip. "jungkook, you know i'm..."

"i know," he interrupts. "let's just pretend, okay? pretend as if your house isn't full of boxes."

he lowers his head to your chest and you know the conversation is over. he returns to tracing your tattoos, humming a soft melody, and you hold him tighter. if only you could forget enough to pretend, for the remainder of the morning, as if your wardrobe doesn't hold only two outfits left.

an hour later, jungkook flicks on the kitchen light.

"you've been avoiding us, son."

he flinches and whips around; his mother sits at the end of the kitchen bench, cupping a mug of tea in her hands. her eyes are downcast. his father stares at him, his arms crossed over his chest, behind the counter.

"i'm n-not avoiding you," he replies, and hates the weakness in his voice.

his father glances at his clothes and jungkook turns away, folding his arms. blue shirt, loose shorts. the lingering scent of pine and citrus. "those aren't yours."

"what does it matter if they aren't?" he retorts. "would you rather me mess up your floors, dripping water from my suit everywhere?"

"watch your tone," he snaps, "boy. those clothes are his, aren't they? that man with the boy-racer car?"

jungkook scoffs. "what do you want me to say? no, they don't belong to him? whatever – we’ve already been over this. i'm going to my room."

"stay," his mother pleads, shutting her eyes. "please, jungkook, listen to your father."

jungkook bites his tongue.

"you will not mess around with that man any longer," his father demands. he lifts a hand as jungkook opens his mouth to argue. "don't bother pretending as if you aren't. we're your parents. we know these things. he's no good for you."

"and how would you know?" he shoots back. "have you ever spoken to him? no! all you know of him are rumours from people who haven't even met him!"

"do not raise your voice at me!" he thunders. "i know trouble when i see it, boy, and that man is it. do you even know where he's from? where his family is? for all you know, he could be a married man!"

"i trust him to tell me important things!" he knows how damn pathetic he sounds, like the teenager in a coming-of-age movie believing with all their heart that they know best. "i don't need to know every detail of his life, and i certainly don't need you lecturing me about him!" he bites the inside of his cheek. "can't you... just be happy for me? i have never, ever, met someone who cares for me like he does. he makes me feel special and – and loved, and he doesn't poke me with sticks or laugh at the way i talk."

"not yet, perhaps. but he will. you'll see, jungkook. do you really believe that a man like that can do anything but break your heart? he is covered in tattoos, for christ's sake. you'll be nothing but a vague memory the second he pulls out of our town."

"would a man who'd forget me in a day remember how i like my toast? buy extra sunscreen with his own money because he knows how fast i burn through mine? would a bad man care so much for me?" he cries. "you barely cared when i came home, crying, because of the kids at school. w-why do you hate that i've found someone who won't shove me off a cliff as a prank? i'm an adult, whatever you may think, and i can make my own decisions on who i love!"

his father leans over the counter, his expression grim and severe. "that man does not love you, jungkook. he's so much older than you. he's using you, taking advantage of how damn naïve you are – you're temporary, son. if you know what's good for you – of course you do, you're all grown up – then you'll stop seeing him. you'll get a full-time job, or go study, and forget that he ever passed through here."

jungkook's hands ball into tight fists. his nails dig into his skin. "he makes me feel important," he mutters. "he makes me feel. before he arrived, all i did was bag groceries and surf and now, because of him, i look forward to waking up. even if he is all that you said, why won't you just let me make my own mistakes? is it really him that worries you, or the fact that you're no longer the only influence on me?"

“jungkook!”

he shakes his head, fisting the blue shirt at the collar. it is soft and smooth and still warm. "i'm not a child anymore." he takes a deep breath and lifts his chin. "i love him. i love ln yn. maybe for a year, maybe for forever, but all that matters is that i do. the way he makes me happy is all that matters. i don't care what you have to say about it because even if i believed you, i can't turn it off. i love him, and he loves me, and i'm leaving."

he strides up the stairs, ignoring the shouts of his name, and his heart hammers in his chest as he shuts his door and grabs his duffle bag, throwing open his closet doors and shoving in clothes by the handful through the brimming tears.

he has never spoken to his father like that. he fears the heavy steps and the loud voice but he finds that he doesn't care – there is nothing he can do to make him care because he has a man who loves him unabashedly and will hold his hand and kiss him silly in front of the church steps.

"he'll never let you come back to me."

he never even heard the door open. he glances over his shoulder – his mother leans against the white frame, wide eyes tracking his every move.

"i'm sorry," jungkook mutters, rolling up a pair of shorts. "but i can't stay here. i-i've already overstayed my welcome a couple of years. it's time i moved on from this stupid place so i can finally—" he inhales "—be free."

"with the tattooed man?"

"yes. he's gentle." he shoves a handful of cables and charging docks into a side pocket and drops his phone inside. "he's gentle when he wants to be and he's been nothing but gentle with me. if everything works out the way i hope it does... maybe you can meet him. one day. at our home, maybe, and i'll have that dog i've always wanted."

"please don't leave, jungkook. he just doesn't want you to be hurt—"

"no. i'm going." he zips up the bag and slings it over his shoulder, glancing at his mother. his voice softens. "i'm sorry, but there's nothing you can say that will make me change my mind. i'll call you, okay? and send pictures of the meals i cook, so you know i'm fine."

"jungkook, please." his mother catches his arm. "you're my only boy, you understand? i know that all children have to spread their wings eventually, but i never thought that it would be like this. stay."

he shakes his head and pulls himself out of her grasp. "i love him. i love him and i'm so much happier for it." he sighs. "i'll talk to you tomorrow, mother."

he sneaks out the back door, little bare footsteps nudging apart blades of cool dewy grass, and he knows the path home like the backs of his eyelids. he picks up the pace when he reaches halfway, and he prays he's not too late.

you open your front door to round brown puppy eyes. "kook? what's wrong?"

"i wanna come with you."

you blink, at a loss for words. he slips inside the bare room, all the parts of you packed away into your car. early morning light smooths long pale shadows along the tiled floor.

stepping closer, you take his chin between your thumb and forefinger and tilt his head up, kissing him gently. he melts into it, his lips slightly chapped but with the lingering sting of his mint toothpaste.

"hm. no alcohol." you consider him silently and he shuffles his feet, gaze flicking over your face nervously before darting to the ground. "i don't think the floor is all that interesting; chin up, darling. what made you change your mind?"

he exhales shakily. that is not a no. "you make me really, really happy, hyung," he admits. "like... i wake up excited to love you, y'know? i keep catching myself thinking about the future – one where i'm with you. i think about reading books next to you, exploring restaurants with you, getting a dog with you... doing warm domestic shit with you." he lowers his eyes to the floor again, roughly rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb. "it's okay if you don't feel the same. i just wanted to tell you before you left."

you separate his hands and rest your temples together. "who told you i don't think like that, too?" you murmur into his ear. when you pull back, your grin is broad and bright, and hesitant excitement bubbles in his stomach. you gesture to his bag. "is that really all you're taking?"

"y-yeah! the important stuff."

you beckon, hand outstretched, and jungkook slips the strap off his shoulder and places it across your palm. you jerk your head towards the open front door, behind which waits your car, the boot open and filled with boxes and bags of memories lovingly tucked away between layers of paper and bubble-wrap. your guitar rests in the backseat. jungkook jumps down the front steps as you place his bag on top of the others and shut the boot, glancing back over your shoulder.

"you nick my kit anyway," you grin. "c'mon, then. you can ride shotgun."

for the first time in many years, hope sparks like a flare in his chest. he crashes into you, arms tight enough to make you wheeze, and buries his cheek into your shoulder.

you stroke his hair, closing your eyes. "are you sure you want to come with me, darling?"

"certain as the sun."

he steps back, hands loose on your arms, and smiles – giddy, glowing, and gorgeous. poetry's never been your strong suit but even you can see the magic between his lines of verse.

you slip your hand into his and bring him around to his seat, but stop before he can step inside. you slide off the sunglasses from atop your head and flip them around, setting them on his nose, and he laughs quietly, nudging them up with his knuckles. he presses a light kiss to your cheek and disappears into your car, tugging the door closed, and you shake your head with a smile as you take your place next to him and behind the wheel.

the engine roars and he sits back, finding your hand on the gearstick. behind the sunglasses, his eyes glimmer with all that is good and bright, and his chest tightens as if he's run a marathon with the growing familiarity of a thudding joy.

"so," he breathes, his voice bright with curiosity, "where to next?"

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x male reader #jeon jungkook x male reader #jungkook x reader #bts x male reader #bts x reader #kpop x male reader #x male reader #male reader #m!reader #bts fanfic

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mosviqu · 10 months ago

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things/aesthetic you associate with your moots please!

this was in my inbox for over a month i am so sorry anon... anyways. here goes nothing. not doing aesthetics bc thats a lot of effort but here is how i 'see' my friends ig :p

@satoruly - champagne, voice memos, the ocean, the beach, the metamorphosis by franz kafka, tokyo revengers, movie reviews, manga, shopping, indoor plants, sunsets, partying, singing, the bass, i dont do drugs by ariana grande and doja cat, anime, mini skirts, cherries, digital cameras, the color red, shinichiro sano, sand, headphones, random spanish thrown in convo, hearts, gojo satoru, croptops, manga, late night walks in a busy town, izana, gossiping with your best friend, ambition, the feeling of home, endless mutual understanding, passion, freedom, soulmates.

@csenke - monchichi dolls, sylvanian families, minecraft, streamers, the streets of budapest, instagram dumps, sunwoo, afternoon walks, playgrounds, random vlogs u record with your best friends, the colors yellow green and tan, enhypen, mona lisa by dominic fike, random german words, hanging posters in your room, late night conversations, pretty architecture, silly selfies, the excitement of unboxing your packages, changmin, spiderman, chimney cake, Á, lovejoy, candy, loverboy hats, platonic neighbors (yes that exists).

@from-izzy - woodz, bunnies, psychology textbooks, coffee shops, matcha, late night conversations, talking in all caps, excitement, running to catch the bus, making spotify playlists in the middle of the night, protectiveness, the color tan, bicycles, gratefulness, sharing your worries with someone, cloudy skies, the sound of birds chirping outside of your window in the morning, laying in the grass.

@heemingyu - meme reactions, milkshakes, playful banter, inside jokes, playful annoyance at your friends, learning how to drive in an empty parking lot, keyboard smashes, iced tea, sibling-like energy, comfortable hoodies, silent support, instagram reels in your dms as a form of love language, comfort tv shows in your bed.

@sungbeam - admiration, being proud of your friends, watching someone from afar, brainstorming with someone on the same wavelength, literature, baby blue by luke hemmings, dc comics, fic banners, star girl energy, the weird familiarity of a college dorm room, demon changmin, the summer break, doing ordinary things with your music playing lowly in the background, post-it notes on your wall, pancakes for breakfast.

@juyeonszn - cats, supportive comments under instagram posts, lying for fun, feeling yourself when you go clubbing with your best friends, lipgloss, tattoos, roadtrips, concerts, taking polaroids on a night out, flirting with your friends, screaming a song on the top of your lungs.

@zzoguri - valorant, childhood friends vibes, meeting someone and feeling like you've known them for ages, jacob bae, gaming, discord calls, italy, journalism, the friends you meet in university, found family, warm soup on sundays, laufey, day6.

@kimsohn - delusional conversations, talking shit with your honest friends, juyeon, typing really fast on your keyboard, understanding each others typos, editing, yunjin, being in love with women, confidence, yeehaw, iconic energy.

#if youre my moot you dont judge yall know i speak vibes only #only did the ones i talk to the most lately im sorry for leaving anyone out 😗

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treason-and-plot · 2 years ago

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Georgina and Vinnie arrive at the Town Hall at ten past nine, exactly ten minutes after it opens, and already there are quite a few people waiting to be served. They sit down on the hard plastic seats and wait to be called. A couple of posters on the walls advertise different scuba diving attractions.

“I really want to go scuba diving while we’re here!” says Georgina. “And windsurfing, and water-skiing! All the things we can’t do at home."

“Sounds fun,” says Vinnie. “I want to go out on one of those whale watching boats, too. There’s a few different ones to choose from. I was looking at some brochures back at the resort. We might book one on our last day here. What do you reckon?”

“I’d love to! Seeing a whale in its natural habitat would be incredible!” says Georgina. “And did you see that big billboard for the Whale Museum at the airport? I really want to go there too! Even though I know museums aren’t really your thing-“

“I’ll go to the Whale Museum with you,” says Vinnie.

“You will?” says Georgina. “Seriously? Oh, Vinnie! That makes me so happy!”

“That’s why I'm marrying you, Girl. So I can spend the rest of my life making you happy.”

#vinnie #Georgina #5 years later #vigina #elope to isla paradiso

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swifty-fox · 5 months ago

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Find the Word

Thank youuuu @anachilles for the tag I love this one!

Rules: Share snippets of your work containing each of the words the previous poster selected for you (optional addition: if you can't find the word in your WIPs, or you simply don't have any WIPs, you can just write a sentence around the word)

My Words: anticipation, high, church, finish

Your Words: twilight, mess, real, unruly

Anticipation:

There’s a strange energy carried in by the storm, a sort of tension that could be lighting or perhaps something more cerebral. It feels like the moments after he’s woken for a mission, where his brain knows it’s time to go but his body has yet to respond, to brush past the muscle-locking fear; don’t make me go back up there. Anticipation too erratic to be catergozied as dread. The breeze is picking up now, racing over the grasslands like low-flying planes and rustling the heady blooming wisteria against itself as he makes his way back to the porch. In his pocket goes the half-empty packet of cigarettes, John’s zippo in his breast pocket. Crowded these days with the toothpicks and gum, alternating between his fixations like a dog circling the length of its chain. He wanders about the house, closing windows and checking loose shutters. Sets a pot of coffee going, leans against the counter and tries to erase the thought of teeth and empty skies from his mind. It clings to him through supper, this feeling, as the storm grows nearer. So humid now that Gale is sweating with it. The world seems to hold its breath and Gale holds his own with it. - Kingdom for a Kiss

High

“Good boy,” Gale praises. Theres a roughness to his voice now, deep and growling with what he knows is arousal. John grins, open teethed and wolfish. Rises higher up on his knees to relieve some of the ache to his scalp but Gale just adjsusts for it. He looks up at him through his lashes, drifts his gaze of the stoic hunger on Gale’s face, the sweat gathering at the hollow of his throat and the way his chest rose and fell just two steps quicker than calm. The leather of his glove creaks where it grips John’s hair, echoing through him like a gunshot. The buzzing in his head is louder now, can feel it vibrating behind is eyes and across his tongue. His body feels hot and sluggish. He nuzzles deeper against Gale’s hipbone and even though this isn’t supposed to be about sex the drag of his briefs against his cockhead is almost enough to have him shooting off. Heavy lidded eyes affix on gale’s free hand, anchored on his hip and clothed in tantalizing leather as well. “Can I-” he starts and then has to stop and wet his dry lips “Can I feel it?” his stomach flutters in a ragged breath. Gale follows his gaze, seems to contemplate his hand for a second, raising it up to flex his fingers in font of John teasingly. Close enough that he can catch the faint smell of leather polish and sweat. “You asked me to wear them today.” Gale muses, also looking at his gloved hand. Though perhaps not with the same rabid naked desire of his subject. “What about them’s got you so fixated?”- everything and the kitchen sink (Dom Gale au)

Church

By the time he makes it to the outskirts of town the sun has set and by the time he’s into the hills the stars have come out from behind their curtain, spreading across the sky in the same dance they’d made every night since the beginning of time. He parks his truck by a scattering of Indian Paintbrush, leaves bright raspberry even in the night, and climbs up onto the roof to gaze at the stars. Lacerta the lizard next to Queen Casseopia, both sat below Cepheus her king. He traces them with his eyes, counting the fainter stars between tracing points. Camelopardalis the giraffe and the barest hints of Perseus and Cygnus disappearing behind the black spill of far away mountains. Gale’s pocket of toothpicks has run dry so he pats his pockets for more, finding instead a half-finished packet of John’s Lucky Strikes. The cigarettes are half-crushed and fragrant. The tobacco spills from the broken ends, patterning onto the roof in their own new constellation. He lights it with the lighter he’d never returned to John after church. It was decorated, carved with two lovebirds in flight over the Air Force Motto Proseqour Alis on one side and on the other a 1922 British halfpenny had been pressed into the metal. Tally marks on the side for every mission John had flown, fourteen in all. Turning it over in his calloused hands he smooths his thumb over the name carved on the base, clearly done by John’s own hand. John C. Egan. Goin’ Fishin’ The ash gets chipped onto the green painted roof of the truck, joining the spilled tobacco stars to create powder white galaxies. Just once he closes his lips around the tan butt of the cigarette. Not to inhale but to remember what John’s words tasted like as he spoke. It’s a pretty sorry replacement and he tosses the rest of the pack out the window as he drives. Let the jackrabbits have it. - Kingdom for a Kiss

Finish

The two women start coming ‘round for lunch and dinner more often. Sometimes it’s just Marge and they sit at the kitchen table while Marge sews and Gale reads. Sometimes it’s the both of them and the sup together before Marge shoos them out to clean up. He will follow Irene out to the porch while she smokes and tries not to feel like a dog who has found a new master. He shares a cigarette with her, knocked between his fingers and never drawn upon. It isn’t a Lucky Strike so he feels no need to place it between his lips. They often sit there so long that Gale forgets the cigarette at all until it singes the skin between his fingers. After enough times it begins to scar. He braves town long enough to begin buying his own groceries. Tracks down a second hand copy of You Can’t Go Home Again. Finishes it. Reads it again. Sometimes he draws his medals out, brushing the imaginary dust from their gleaming faces and wonders if he’ll ever bother to wear them again. Even rarer he will reach under the medals and the bible and will draw out the zippo, flicking it open and closed and open again until he falls asleep with it resting on his chest. Sometimes he flicks it to light, buys himself a packet of Lucky Strikes and burns through them while wondering if John was happy. - Kingdom for a Kiss

tagging @trashbag-baby666, @reallylilyreally, @soliloquy-dawn, @nicijones

#swiftywrites #tag games #only have two wips at this time ayyy

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aredlemon · 1 year ago

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My Job. Ao3

Summary:

Roman comes face to face with what can only be described as a hybrid from hell.

Uh so Roro gets hunted by this thing

Notes:

I’m *not* gonna say sorry for this being poster later than promised (fanfic authors curse caught up with me) cause *someone* (I know you are reading this) wants me to be more confident.

Cw: Blood/gore (slightly, only like a bit), not really angst/mostly action and scenery descriptions, implied character death (but maybe there is a sequel who knows~)

Pairings: none!

~~~

As the wind roared and echoed, rain started to fall. The skies opened wide, full rivers crashing down on the soil. Clouds hid any trace of the sun, one would mistake the early morning hours for midnight. It was cold, the September breeze having been turned into a tornado, destroying what the rain couldn’t.

Screams were heard as the people of the imagination abandoned their homes. Children’s cries muffled in the embraces of their parents. The once quaint town had turned into a hellscape.

Sudden thunder made the earth shake. As lightning struck flames burst out. A fire fuelled so quickly even the abundance of water was not able to tame it. Flames rose up to the sky, enveloping the brick and wooden houses.

———

Roman ran and ran through the fallen buildings and ruins, he couldn’t help but allow the tears that had prickled at his eyes to stream down his face. A face no longer bright and beaming with glee. Blood, sweat, and tears all decorating it.

He couldn’t stop now. He had to keep on trying. Trying to guide this monster and the destruction it brought with it away from the city. Away from his people.

———

The beast growled low and heavy. Sharp teeth speckled with blood glistening in the golden flames. No animal had been able to escape its path and now it had a new target.

It was truly something out of the depths of hell, pure concentrated evil. A hybrid with the face and upper body of a boar, transitioning into the lower half of an eagle. When on its hind legs it towered over the tallest of the village’s horses. Wings spreading so big they practically blocked the sky out of anyone’s view.

As it flew near the ground it huffed and puffed, ignoring the fleeting people in favour of the one who had attempted to kill it.

———

When Roman first came vis-à-vis with the creature the day was still normal. Sun shining down upon the fertile valleys, a light breeze swaying the tall grass, birds chirping. An idyllic scene.

What had caught his attention were some dreadful noises, a loud tearing accompanied by an agonising wail.

As he walked towards the noise he unsheathed his sword. It wasn’t unusual to find deer being hunted down by wolves, a somber sight for sure, yet one the prince was accustomed to.

When he looked the beast in the eyes he swore he saw the devil himself. It immediately dropped the deer carcass and lunged forwards. Roman quickly fell to the side, covering his face. That was when the wind started to pick up and clouds darkened the otherwise clear blue sky.

Swiftly rising to his feet Roman swung his sword at the foul beast, barely grazing its right wing. That’s when all hell broke loose. The beast let out a loud growl, sending a shiver up the prince’s spine. It charged for him, missing him by mere millimetres.

At that moment Roman decided to run, he was woefully unprepared and wasn’t keen on being the monster’s main course. Before he could take two steps it threw him on the ground. Roman fell on his face, sword joining him on the floor in front of him. He could feel the blood run down his right cheek, as well as the mouthful of dirt he was assaulted with, but that was the least of his worries.

The hybrid pinned him down and got ready to bite his head clean off. Thinking on his feet (or rather his stomach) Roman reached for his sword and blindly lifted it above his head, successfully injuring the beast, if the moan of pain it let out was any indicator. That’s when he got a chance to run, quickly scrambling to his feet he took off.

When he approached the outskirts of his kingdom he started to yell for the people to run. Most of them had already realised something was wrong, since the weather had gone from a perfect sunny day to now the sky being nearly black and the wind shaking anything it collided with. The residents didn’t think twice before starting to flee, guards trying to organise them. Some offered to help but were quickly dismissed by their commander. Roman didn’t want any one of the townsfolk to be hurt.

———

Now Roman was battling against the strong wind and rain, trying to avoid any of the wreckage and flames, running despite feeling his legs ache with each step.

The beast was catching up with him, he could feel its stare on his back. That’s when he saw an opportunity open up, the thick, mile long, forest that separated his and his brother’s sides of the imagination. It was the perfect place to trap the monster, rendering its wings useless, and perhaps even turning them into a disadvantage.

The forest was dense, trees so close to one another the sky was no longer visible behind their leaves. Not many creatures lived here, apart from the occasional squirrel or bear. A place mostly inhabited by insects.

———

These woods were a place Roman knew like the back of his hand, able to navigate through the flora with ease. He manoeuvred through them, suddenly tripping over some newly fallen tree trunks. Turning around he came face to face once again with the beast.

It looked angrier than ever. As it went to bite down on his neck Roman expertly leaped out of the way, rolling behind a tall and broad tree stump. Noting the absence of his sword from his hands he felt scared. The sound of teeth and claws against metal filled the air with a final snap of the blade.

Picking up speed he sprinted away from it,his clothes tearing as branches caught onto the fabric. He could feel some of them pierce the top layers of his skin but he didn’t care. All he cared about was ridding the imagination from this thing.

———

Few minutes passed before the beast caught up with him again. As it charged forward Roman ducked, barely avoiding the hybrid and letting it collide with an incredibly tall tree. When he heard the light snapping sound of the bark he got an idea.

Whistling to lure the monster he started a game of chase with it, nearly avoiding its attacks, making sure they would always be followed by the cracking of the same tall tree. As the beast charged one last time Roman felt it lightly scratch him. Despite that the tree finally came down with a loud thud, trapping the beast by its right wing, seemingly knocking it out.

Approaching with care, Roman picked up a branch, poking it a few times. The beast continued to lay there motionless, was it even breathing? He took a sigh of relief before going to find something sharp to ensure it was gone for good.

———

Suddenly his knees gave out, causing him to fall flat on the ground. The world had started spinning, his head feeling heavy. As he looked down on himself he noticed the cause of this. A gash starting from just under his right pec, ending near the left side of his stomach.

It wasn’t incredibly deep yet it still bled quite a lot. The adrenaline coursing through his veins must have stopped him from noticing its severity, not to mention the pain he was already feeling from fumbling through bushes and crashing into branches.

He tried to reach a hand out, an attempt to press his clothing down on the wound, to try and stop the bleeding. His hand remained still by his side, unresponsive to the brain signals being send. Roman tried again, he couldn’t go like this.

A faint ringing echoed in his ears, his eyes feeling heavy. He shifted a bit backwards, resting his back against the length of the fallen tree’s trunk. His head lolled back, eyes fluttering closed.

‘Is this how it ends?’ Roman thought.

This couldn’t be it. He had to make sure the beast was dead, he…he did what he was supposed to! He fought and he tried his hardest. What would his people think? Would they mourn him or be disappointed he left them unprotected? What about the other sides? He didn’t even want to think of what they’d say when he didn’t come back home.

———

The sky had started clearing up, heavy rainfall coming to an abrupt stop. The sun shone through the leaves, creating intricate shadow patterns. Droplets of water slid down the leaves from high above, mimicking a light trickle.

Roman’s shirt had turned a mix of brown and red. Stained from both the dirt he had fallen down onto many times today as well as the blood leaking from his wounds.

———

A sudden noise surprised him. It took him a few moments before realising it came from him. A sob.

There were still things he wanted to experience, battles for him to fight.

A tear made its way down his cheek, eyes still shut, he let out a shuddering breath.

‘I can’t…I’ve got to make sure they’re safe…’ he thought, the world around him coming to a halt as his body relaxed.

———

The edges of the gash had started to scab over. Blood soaking his skin, once tan now turned pale. Hair damp with sweat and rain stuck to his forehead. The scar on his cheek had long stopped bleeding, ‘twas a simple scratch after all.

———

A slight rumble was heard echo through the forest. The beast must have still been alive. Roman couldn’t even open his eyes. He had to get up, finish his job.

As the world around him fell silent the last thing he heard was the snap of a branch and the guttural growl of the monster.

Notes:

Here ya go~ who knows…maybe I’ll make a second part…

(Feel free to have this be its own part and the second its separate story)

-ARedLemon

#fanfic #ao3 #ao3 link #ao3 curse #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #sanders sides #roman sanders #my writing #roman sanders angst #roman angst

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