#finally got around to sifting through some stuff up to ghost of you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

Text

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 1- She Ran With Wolves

Bucky Barnes x powered (f)reader Series Re-write (Civil War, Infinity War/Endgame, TFATWS)

Summary: You’re a survivor, always have been and always will be. After narrowly escaping the clutches of Hydra years ago, you’ve been keeping to the shadows for as long as time allows. With Hydra suddenly exposed and your secrets in the open, you’re on the hunt for the last part of your past, but is he ready to see you again?

Warning: angst, talk of violence, some fluff mixed in (a little); way more to come

Masterlist

Side note- This is a TFATWS Series Re-write!!! Obviously lol, anyways. Readers powers are heavily inspired by a certain Marvel badass and I just thought her powers would work so well for this. Also they’re cool as fuck.

September, 15th 2013

Location: S.H.I.E.L.D Headquarters, Washington D.C.

This recent project Fury had sent her on was beginning to make itself quit the annoyance for Natasha this past of couple weeks, granted he always gave her the toughest assignments, understanding that no one else can dig up as much dirt as the Black Widow can.

But this? This was different, the target in question was practically a ghost, a legend among the ones lucky, or possibly unlucky enough to have been made aware of this dangerous individual. But no matter how much she asked around from her various secretive resources on the problem in question, this mystery person was simply just rumor to them. Or perhaps too much of a sour subject to seek into any further. Although one thing was always prevalent, people were scared.

But why?

The assassin leans back in her chair, a thoughtful expression crossing over her features as she stares bitterly down at the top secret file gifted to her by Fury himself. Suddenly a door closes, she shuts the file in an instant, only to be greeted with the apologetic face of Steve as he walks past her.

“Sorry. Fury told me you would be in here.” Begins Steve as he takes the nearby couch, something small and metal in his right hand, “Said you were assigned some impossible case. How’s it going so far?”

Letting out a jaded sigh, she shifts her gaze over to the window, “The absolute vagueness of this person is....frustrating to say the least. All I’ve been able to gather is that they’ve been part of some top secret experimentation on pregnant women. Somehow they’re involved with it....I just, gotta figure out how.” She adds with a conflicted expression dancing across her features.

Steve hums in thought, “Sounds complicated.”

“You have no idea.” Mutters Natasha unenthusiastically as her green irises shift back down to the annoying little file.

Steve palms the object in his hand before gaining his friends attention once again, “Here. Fury told me to give this to you.” Her brows furrow in thought as she reaches over and quickly accepts the strange hard drive looking object, “I think this will help. It has the location of the target and who they are. That’s it.....Well, the last reported location.”

“How did he?” She wonders aloud, face suddenly breaking out into an irked grin, “Fury you son of a bitch, about time I found a legitimate lead.”

——

Sitting on her comfortable apartment couch, Natasha sifts through the various encrypted files from the hard drive that’s currently plugged into her laptop. So far she’s spent about two hours breaking through the various encrypted file blockers and now at long last has finally made some real progress.

Studying the brightly glowing screen, she moves her finger, clicking another coded link that reads -V13X11- she’s immediately greeted with a black screen and the slightly blurred picture of a woman’s face who’s looking rather stoic and fearless against the camera flash. Her eyes are set and hard as stone, dark and almost angry behind lips that show the ghost of a forced smile. She’s noticeably an overall attractive woman, in kind of a terrifying and intimidating sort of way, like looking at a fierce lioness standing valiantly against a foe; nonetheless she stares defiantly at the person behind the camera.

Her eye color, weight, date of birth, and presumably patient number, that's printed in big bold letters 00X13 on the glowing screen, right below her squared portrait. Furrowing her brows, Natasha scrolls down to see about a paragraph long of personal information given about the woman. Including, to the red heads tremendous surprise, a birth name, Y/N Valerious.

Oddly enough, the name indeed sounds a tad bit familiar, though she can’t quit place from where.

The file states that she was raised in a facility on the outskirts of Surinda, Russia; someplace in Siberia, close to the heart of the mammoth country. Trained by the organization Hydra and summitted into inhuman experimentation by the specific facility that held her, however the rest is all encrypted and impossible to translate into something comprehensible much to Natasha’s utter disappointment.

Huffing in frustration, she slips out the hard drive before shutting down her laptop and slamming it shut. The room is darker by now with the sun gone, and tomorrow it appears that Natasha will be off to Sweden to confront this woman, Y/N, in hopes of gathering valuable intel into the people who created her, and any important information regarding her troubled past.

If she’s willing to comply.

——

Closing your laptop, you stand and wander over to the opened window to stretch before taking a deep breath of freshly brisk winter air. The land here in Uppsala, Sweden is more beautiful and peaceful then you could have ever imagined since renting an apartment two months ago. In fact, this is probably the longest you’ve ever stayed in one spot since abandoning the life of an assassin many years ago.

Though you know it won’t be much longer until you leave again, but you can’t just yet, there happens to be a certain agent on her way to find you. Fury unknowingly received your encrypted hard drive with opened arms, foolishly under the impression it was sent from an old friend when he reached out for answers into your complicated history. Then when the Black Widow eventually clicked open your link, bam, you could see everything she was nosily sifting through. Everything you wanted her to see. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if something dramatic happened to the people over in D.C. at this point, idiots, all of them.

For the past couple years S.H.I.E.L.D has become sort of a troubling snooping nuisance for you, constantly delving their way into your relatively uneventful lifestyle every couple of months, meddling around to figure out if you’re still currently active for Hydra and if not, are you willing to pay for your crimes or to join them like she did. Definitely not on your to do list any time soon.

Watching as a small black bird zips by, you quickly shut your window and close the dark colored curtains to block yourself from the rest of the chaotic world. Hastily making your usual rounds about the apartment to be absolutely certain all the possible openings are locked. Soon after you head for bed, ready to face the ex-assassin whenever she arrives in the following days ahead.

Seated at your kitchen table, you casually sip at your steaming hot tea while watching security footage from downstairs from when you hacked into their system, the same night you began renting the place. As expected, the notorious red head slips her way into the building and up the four flights of stairs until finally a light knock is heard at your old wooden door.

So she wants to do this cleanly.

Switching off the device, you stuff it in a nearby drawer before calmly walking down the tiny hallway over to the frontdoor and opening it, lock off and all. Her green eyes blink in curious surprise as you show her no indications of aggression; she’s about your height if not maybe slightly smaller, thick scarf and a winters coat about her person as she holds a normal sized black bag in her right hand. No doubt a gun concealed somewhere close, a light precaution in case things go south from here.

Trailing your wary gaze from her travel bag to her pale face, you raise an intrigued brow, “I assume you’re here for me?” You ask with the tinge of a confident Eastern European accent as she slowly nods, eyes calculated and calm as she studies your mellow yet slightly defensive stance.

Pursing plush lips together, she casually shrugs with a light hearted smile, “I only realized you must have sent that hard drive when I arrived in London...”

“Well I’ve gotten rather bored running away from your persistent bastards over in America.” You interrupt before opening up your door even wider, gifting her an open invitation instead of a fight, “Come in. I assume we have much to discuss.”

Following you to the table, she sets her bag on the closest chair as you take another sip from your tea. Cautious eyes trained on her every move as she shifts a bit uncomfortably in her chair, “So, I assume you’re not here to sell me that pretty bag of yours. Not that I’d want it.”

She smirks at your blunt sarcasm, pleased to know you’ve at least got a sense of humor after all you’ve endured, “No. I’m here to learn about who created you and if there are any more. Y/N, I’m well aware of how dangerous you truly are...but given the fact that you’ve had time to adjust, and let me into your home willingly. I came seeking answers. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Folding your hands together, you tilt your head at her thoughtfully, “Well that’s good. I didn’t really want killing the Black Widow on my conscience, though I’d speculate a few would be relieved.” You quip with a playful smirk before your face turns serious again, “I’ll tell you about the fuckers who made me. Then you leave and never bother me again. Understood?” You add in almost a growl.

Handing you a polite smile, she nods in agreement, “Of course. You have my word.” You take another sip of your tea as she reaches into her bag, a beige file suddenly plants itself atop your kitchen table. “This is the only surviving file on you. It’s enough, but there’s too many cracks that need to be filled. I need to know how they conducted the experiments and who else survived them. This is important for the safety of S.H.I.E.L.D and the rest of the world. Y/N, we’re trying to make sure something like this can never happen again. And well, any secrets on Hydra always helps.”

Setting your cup down, you smirk, “This should be filled with liquor if I’m going to be spilling some top secret Hydra business of this velocity.” You muse, setting aside your mug, your face quickly shifts to a more serious expression. “For starters this isn’t a very heartwarming story.”

“Neither is mine.” Begrudgingly admits the ex-assassin.

“Well, at least we have something in common then, Black Widow.” You assert with a pointed look before leaning back against the barred wood of your chair, thinking of where to start first. Your eyes trail over to the window as you begin your story, “This place, where they kept us. The scientists working for Hydra wanted to test out special DNA altering serums on the embryos of willing participants. Well, we weren’t willing....but they targeted the poor, feigning a program that would pay these mothers-to-be thousands if they participated. Plus a comfortable place to stay for awhile.” You reveal before taking another sip of your tea, “You see, I’m not originally from Russia, my home was some nameless village in Eastern Europe that I’ve forgotten the name of by now, it was so long ago. But anyways, I guess fate has a funny way of administering it’s business to the ones seeking safety in times of struggle. So my mother...” You take another sip of your tea to help clear your throat and head a little bit, God you hate talking about this.

Setting it down again, you continue, “Mine accepted. They took her and twenty-two others to this facility deep in the woods. This place was practically a paradise for them...” You chuckle miserably, “soon enough the scientists pumped them full of drugs and began their altering of the embryos DNA, genetic codes, and whatever else they saw fit to mess with. Nine months later we came into this world kicking and screaming.”

“Shit.” Mutters Natasha in astonishment, fully engrossed in your story as she starts to realize maybe her upbringing wasn’t as fucked as yours.

“They monitored us for the first few months, waiting to see if anyone acted strange....nothing, to their utter disappointment. Soon they drew blood samples and as it turned out, we all had altered DNA from the serum. Just as they’d planned.”

Her brows furrow in puzzlement before she asks, “How’d you get your powers then? I don’t think I missed anything.” Insists your guest questionably as you shake your head.

“You didn’t. But you have to understand that as we grew older, all of us basically became tiny super soldiers as fucked as that is, not only did they change our genetic code for meddling with later on when we got older. But this serum was so well developed that it completely fused with the fetuses genetic code, only causing us to grow stronger as we aged from toddlers to three-year-old's and up. Testing even revealed that it slowed down our ageing process just like with Captain America. But it wouldn’t be effective till we reached our mid to late twenties.”

Natasha takes a moment to process your words before she nods in acknowledgment, “Y/N. It’s my understanding that this is a buried secret from the organization for good reason, it’s just....what year did this all take place? It’s not in any of the records I was able to dig up, not even in yours, nothing except for your date of birth.” States Natasha curiously, stopping you before you speak of anything else.

Nodding you lean your arms against the wooden table, leaning in a bit closer now, “1953, after World War ll when people where still recovering from the heavy aftermath while the Cold War was still raging on when well, you know.” Giving her a lopsided shrug, you glance from an old faded picture on the wall then back to her, “Lets just say Russia wasn’t exactly having a stellar time, nor was my mother for that matter.” You Conclude before aimlessly pursuing your lips together, “Which yes, makes me at around 60 years old. Don’t I look pretty.” You add, voice dripping in sarcasm.

Natasha’s eyes concede silent astonishment as she blinks back surprise, “Even after all these years doing what I do, meeting the people that I have. I’m still left speechless every once in awhile. Y/N I can’t even imagine what you’ve seen.” Reveals the red head honestly as her green irises flicker from your file then back up to you, a conflicted expression dancing across her features, “How did they...how did you gain your powers, aside from what the serum gave you in the process?”

An apprehensive sigh escapes freely from your lips while you lean back into the creaky old chair, a troubled look darkening your features as you avoid her intrigued gaze, “They waited until we were twelve before testing us....in the meantime we lived as normal children; learning, playing, and training to survive. You know, the typical stuff.” You add with a small breathy laugh, though no humor finds your eyes, “We had our mothers until a year before they began the experiments. But it wasn’t that terrible of a loss since they trained us to adapt to our environment and never fully depend on anyone but ourselves.....it’s sick. And I’m not even sure what they did to them, I guess I never will.”

She nods as you make a disgusted face, an acidic hatred rising in your chest at the thought of your childhood, “I’m sorry, I can’t even imagine how traumatic that must have been.”

“Oh believe me, it gets better.” You joke bitterly, “In pairs of two they tested us, putting us into rooms where two doctors would strap us down and stick a needle into our skin. After that, they waited until something dramatic happened. Oh, and it sure as fuck did.” You conclude with a sneer.

Biting her lip anxiously, Natasha asks anyway, “How many survivors?”

Scoffing, you shake your head in revulsion for what those doctors did to everyone, an angry expression soon crossing your features, “One.” You sourly mutter, “All my other friends died of the new serum they gave us, either right then and there on the table, or in the following days. You see, it was supposed to blend with our altered DNA to create something powerful out of it, something beyond humans normal capabilities. It just ended up horribly mutating everyone except for me.” You whisper, clear sadness and hatred coating your very words.

Your eyes stare sharply at the peeling table top paint, a frown on your lips as you take in a deep breath before continuing, “What they did to me....no one should have to go through something so goddamn agonizing, I was only a child, just a little girl in a terrible place whether I knew it or not....and you know how it affected me?” She slowly shakes her head no as you smile miserably, your brows furrowed in pain, “I was gifted with bone claws that retracted out of my knuckles and one from each of my feet.” You confirm, eyes suddenly darkening in fury, “And you know what those goddamn bastards did to me afterwards? Like I hadn’t suffered enough from the pain of it all, they pumped me full of liquid Adamantium. Turning my claws to solid metal, the fucking strongest material on earth. Right in the body of an eleven year old child!” You shout furiously as she flinches back at your outburst, blinking hard, you let out a heavy breath before leaning back into your chair in defeat.

Calm down, Y/N. It’s just a memory now.

Strong brows dent her clear skin in thought as you await a response, after a few long moments does she soon gather her racing mind, lacing her fingers together she raises a brow at you, “That doesn’t explain how you’ve survived so long. The years working for Hydra, they turned you into a weapon....yet you’ve escaped and haven’t been killed yet. Not even a scratch to be found.....well, at least that I can see.”

Turning to face the puzzled assassin, you give her a lopsided grin, your chill composure coming back to you quickly enough, “I didn’t just get claws from the enhanced serum that fucked with my genetic make-up, it completely heightened my humanly abilities. Suddenly I was stronger, faster, and all my senses felt like they were on overload. Best of it all, I came to realize I had accelerated healing capabilities. Who would have thought that their shitty inhuman experiments would have gone so horrendously, yet with the one miracle of an exception. Me.”

“I had figured that branch of Hydra was meddling on dangerous ground, I hadn’t realized the extent of what they were doing. Did they try making any more like you?” She wonders.

“I was the last. Since I was the only compatible vessel, they didn’t want to waste anymore time or money on others who could possibly fail.” You explain with a shrug, “I became one of their most treasured assets.”

Pursing her lips together, she gives a slight nod before revealing a different file from her bag, you watch as she pauses for a moment before opening it up, you quickly take notice of the many white papers pinned together. Some with encrypted symbols and words while others are in plain English. Your brows furrow as she flips the first page to reveal...

“I know I came asking for answers about classified information, but this won’t be a complete mission if I don’t ask you about your time with Hydra.” Proposes the red head cautiously while she studies your face for any hostile reactions, not getting anything but skepticism, she continues, “I understand you were very important to them. It’s recorded you’ve completed about three dozen kills over an active period of about thirty-seven years.”

You scoff before muttering, “So it would seem. They gave me my first mission in 1971...when I was 17.”

“Right, but that’s not exactly what I’m seeking.” Her eyes immediately trail down to the files, “I assume you must have seen this man at least once...” She flips another page over and pulls out a playing card sized photograph, she turns it around and slides it closer to you. Instantly you recognize who he is, but how did she?..

“I haven’t seen him in years, nor heard of him for that matter.” You mutter, though your tone shifts to a more aggravated one.

Noticing this difference, Natasha continues, “That’s the look of someone who has met him for less then friendly reasons. What happened to the Winter Soldier?” You take a long moment to study his stoic face of icy blue and white, and black; its when he was in the Cryostacis chamber, the place where they would freeze him to keep their Winter Soldier locked away until he was needed for a new mission. All that you can fully witness is his sleeping face, though you know exactly what he looks like up close and with no ice crystals in his dark hair.

Letting out a heavy sigh, you slide the photograph back over to her folder, “I met him when I was 25 in 1979, Hydra needed us for a duel mission somewhere in South Africa, they needed their best. We were tasked with locating and stealing some precious metal which we later learned was Vibranium, because apparently they had used the last of the Adamantium on me.” You reveal with a casual shrug, “It went relatively well as expected...and well, we worked with each other many times after that, until I escaped and he was sent to kill me in 2009.”

“You knew him for almost twenty-nine years. Do you know where he might be now?”

Scoffing, you almost laugh, “Even if I did, you’d never get him. But if I’d have to assume, he’s probably frozen in some cryo tank somewhere in the middle of Russia. Waiting to be let loose again so he can take out a new enemy of the state.”

“Right.” Nods the Black Widow as she closes up her files, her green irises quickly on you again, “Thank you for your time, and for the heavy material you spoke of.”

“It was a long time ago, someone else should remember what those fuckers did to innocent mothers and their children. No one in this entire world knows except for me, you, and the doctors I haven’t killed yet.” You growl with venom lacing your every word.

Soon you watch as she swiftly rises to her feet, as you do the same, “I wish you well then.” Affirms the Black Widow as you follow her lead to the door, she stands on the other side for a moment before asking, “Is there any way I could find you again?”

Leaning against the door frame, you break out into a knowing smirk as she stands waiting expectantly, “If you’re lucky, you’ll never see me again. Goodbye agent Romanoff.” And with that do you gently close the door, leaving her in the hallway with a plethora of useful information, but still nothing significantly useful on the Winter Soldier, now only time will tell if he ever happens to show up on her radar again. Hopefully not, she thinks doubtfully before turning on her heels and sauntering off down the hallway.

——

Almost two whole years had passed since last you’ve spoken to the assassin, in that time you’ve watched her speak on live television when Hydra had finally been exposed to the world and all their secrets let loose for the prying hungry eyes of the public.

Even some of your own information had been leaked, the world knew who you were now, what atrocities you’ve committed for the organization during your time with them and that you’ve been M.I.A since 2009. Now you’re on an international watchlist. Fantastic. Apparently some very important leaders of the world and other prestige family members alike aren’t very fond of yourself for murdering their adversaries or filthy rich husbands.

But it’s not like you had a choice, Hydra would always alter your memories when they shocked you into forgetting who you even were; thus you’d complete a mission and a couple days or so later would your mind stitch itself back together again the best it could from the electrical trauma. Only the killing part would be a dark and fuzzy memory, thus revealing itself to you in bits and pieces at a time. Soon everything blurred together and you just complied or face getting electrocuted multiple times a session, until your eyes remained empty and dangerous.

Considering you’ve been on the run since that information was released, in this time, you’ve tracked down past agents and doctors alike who had wronged you, considering you now had full access to their recent history. Hence increasing your body count as you went from one country to the next, making the world a tad bit lighter with their darkness whipped from existence.

Although soon enough you became unsettled with the loads of information expunged from Hydra, your mind inevitably making a one eighty back to a certain broody super soldier from your complicated past. He must be in the world somewhere, living as a secret civilian or whatnot. He has to be. And you’ve decided to find him before someone else does.

Maybe it was curiosity, or the fact that he was like you and shared a bloody history with Hydra, but your instinctual drive to find the Winter Soldier eventually drew you the beautiful city of Bucharest, Romania. Although he didn’t make finding him effortless in the slightest, after endless days hacking into network databases looking for even a snippet of information. You found a lead.

Turns out airport security footage is very useful, even more so, footage from around the city’s grant center; and from there you were able to track him to Romania. Eventually after a couple of days in the city, you were able to catch a glimpse of him at the local market place and thus followed him to his little shitty apartment without him as so much as noticing.

Once he left again, you slipped inside and began your wait for his eventual return. But will he even want to speak with you? Does he even remember you? Your memories hadn’t been continuously whipped like his were, granted you were forced into cryo more then once and electroshocked into forgetting your memories. It eventfully stopped once they realized your mind would just heal itself into remembering again, so instead they threatened you with a tracking device deep into your skin tissue that would blow up if you tried to run.

Clearly you eventually found a way around this, as terrible of a memory it gave you.

——

Looking out the window, your ears suddenly pick up the sound of boots stealthily walking down the hallway, they’re incredibly light against the tiles outside, perhaps he somehow knows you’ve been following him. A moment later the scent of a man fills your nostrils and you know he’s inside the apartment. You could barely hear the door.

He’s silent as a mouse, nothing indicating he’s even there except for his rapidly thudding heartbeat that pounds anxiously against his strong chest; you slowly turn to face him. His hat from earlier is gone, dark blue eyes stare warily on you while soft breaths emit from his slightly parted lips. He’s not afraid, but he is nervous.

Folding your arms over your chest, you take a glance around the room, “Nice place.” You confirm casually, eyes back on the Winter Soldier in a second as the corner of your lips pull into a humored half grin, “I’m not here to complete some personal Vendetta against you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Then why are you here?” His voice is more curious then cold, maybe he can be reasoned with after all.

Taking a step forward, you shrug, “Wanted to make sure you aren’t still on their side.”

He keeps silent for a moment as you watch him watch you, “I’m done with them.” Mutters Bucky, disgust dripping off his words. That’s exactly what you wanted to hear. Progress.

“Good.” You add with the tiniest of smiles before motioning towards his little kitchen table, “Mind if we sit and talk? As, well...I guess civilians now.”

Studying your face for any indication of falseness and hostility, he’s pleasantly surprised when he finds none. Bucky takes off both of his gloves and sits, metal hand shinning in the low lighting. A threat or a precaution? Maybe he just wants it off?

You follow his example, and soon the two of you sit not even three feet away from each other. Both yourself and Bucky hold an awkward silence for a long moment as the tension in the room rises, shifting your gaze from the counter behind him, you don’t really notice as he trails his eyes over your face, “I remember you.” Reveals Bucky to your great surprise, your eyes falling onto him in an instant, “They sent us on missions together, until you left and they woke me up to kill you for it.”

Smiling, you let out a humored breath of air, “Turns out you didn’t miss me after all. I gave you a nice scar for your troubles though, you still have it?”

Bucky purses his lips into the tiniest of shadowy grins, although no real joy is shown, “It’s a thin little line across my left rib cage. Just barely reached my bone.” Yeah, and I would have if you didn’t punch me in the eye socket first, you think to yourself from when the Winter Soldier had tracked you down. But that’s a long story.

“Glad it’s healed and they didn’t have you come after me a second time. I don’t think I would have let you live again.”

He thinks hard for a second as he processes your words, “You let me live? The first time?”

“Well,” You serenely admit, “I couldn’t exactly kill you...I guess, well....I don’t really know why I didn’t kill you when I had the chance. Guess I’m not as ruthless as Hydra wanted.” You mumble with a conflicted frown, the two of you keep silent before you break the odd tension, “Doesn’t matter now. I heard about what happened in D.C. just like the rest of the world. Gotta say, I was wondering what everyone over there had been getting themselves into.”

“They leaked everything.” Mumbles Bucky with a knowing flash of insight within his dark restless eyes.

“I know.” You add with a slow nod, “I’ve been traveling more cautiously for the past year and a half now. You’d think they’d let us live in peace, of course not. But I guess it means the world knows what a piece of shit organization Hydra is. So that’s something.”

“Yes.” Agrees Bucky, eyes trailing from your fingerless gloves to your face, of course he remembers what hides beneath, “What happened to you since you left?

Fumbling with your fingers as they lay against his table, you turn you head to the window, the ghost of a smile dancing across your lips, “Surviving. You?”

He shifts his gaze back down to his metal hand as you turn to face him, “About the same I’d say.”

Leaning back against your creaky wooden chair, you hand him a small yet friendly smile, “Well then. What of us now? Two ex-assassins alone in the world. With nothing but our wit and fists to keep us afloat.” You add with a low chuckle, he doesn’t crack.

Losing your smile, the two of you keep silent as ghosts for a long moment before Bucky shifts uncomfortably in his seat, “I got some tea.” Replies the admittedly handsome man now since you have a moment to really look; the briefest hint of a grin revealing itself against his lips for only but a flash of a second. But you still see it.

Fumbling with your fingers you give him a pursed lip grin, “I like tea.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier #marvel imagine #marvel x you #marvel x reader #marvel x y/n #series rewrite #bucky barnes #tfatws

341 notes · View notes

parkers-gal · 3 years

Note

hey honey! how are you doing?

i was wondering if you could write something where the reader is either tom or harrison’s sister, around 19-20 years old, and she hears her brother talking bad about her behind her back and she gets distant towards them and her brother realizes how much he’s missing out on (her first boyfriend and stuff like that)

sorry if it’s long or if you don’t wanna write it lol it was just an idea!!

don’t be sorry! i loved this! also doing pretty good :-)

i didn’t really understand what was in the ending parentheticals so i hope this is what you wanted!

wc: 1.7k

—

Being the established girl in a group of four boys meant a lot of things. Often, you were confused as a girlfriend to whichever boy you were accompanying, aside from your brother, of course. There was a lot of territory that came with being close family-friends with the Holland family. Especially since your brother used to be Tom’s assistant. It was expected, though, because they had been close friends growing up, especially since being in the same grade.

You were younger, which meant you were in between ages for the twins and Paddy. You didn’t consider yourself too young for them, though, and found yourself in the presence of the boys for most of your time.

Today, however, you were with your friend Aisha, walking around the shops. She had to leave unexpectedly early, so you parted ways. You came into the house quietly, setting a few things as you silently made your way into the kitchen. It wasn’t actually your house, but you practically spent all of your time there anyways. You heard voices coming from the den. Though you knew it was wrong, you halted in announcing your arrival, choosing to listen in on what they seemed to be joking around about.

“Finally got ‘er off your back, huh mate?” You heard Tom’s voice, followed with joined laughter from everyone else. Your mind wandered, thinking maybe Harrison had a girl he was interested in, though he never brought that up, so you stayed quiet to hear more.

“Yeah. Out with Aisha or whatever.”

Your eyes widened as the realization dawned on you. You purse your lips and think not to assume anything just yet.

“That her only her friend?”

“Honestly,” Harrison laughs in agreement. “Mum said to be a good older brother but I’m tired of playing babysitter.” They all laugh again and you will yourself not to burst into anger — or worse: cry. “She’s gotta grow up or something.”

“Mate.” Tom snickers. “She needs a life. The boys are a tight circle; can’t let no baby sister in on that.”

“Yeah,” Harry’s voice pops in. “Who else would we spill disgusting secrets to?” They laugh seemingly in universal knowledge.

“Anyways,” Tom settles down. “Good thing we finally got the superior Osterfield alone, for once.”

You abandon your station near the kitchen door and speed walk out the other swing door. You pick your bags up quietly, making for a quick escape as your tears attempt the same. You’re almost done putting your shoes on when Sam comes down the stairs, brows furrowed while he wipes his damp hands on the front of the shirt. You curse in realizing he was probably in the bathroom.

“Y/N? Everything okay?”

“Uh…” You glance to the hallway that leads to the kitchen, wearily hoping nobody comes out. “Yeah, just uh… forgot I had to do something. I’ll see you later.”

You quickly make your way out of the house, shoving everything into your car while you can, starting the engine with great speed. Sam was in the middle of saying something else to you on your wait out, but he never got around to finishing because you were already out of the door.

He didn’t mention anything to the boys, trusting that you were okay and that you did actually have something to do.

That night, you tried not to cry yourself to sleep in your small apartment, one you shared with Aisha. When you woke the next morning, she wanted to go to the skating rink for some fun, so you agreed, eating breakfast before showering. You spent the entire day there, really, and let your phone in a rented locker, ignoring the texts from a few of the boys asking if you wanted to come over for a movie and some pizza.

When you did have the chance to reply — over five hours later — you gave them scarce replies in the main group chat, apologizing without much sorrow. From their end, they shook it off, knowing you probably just had other plans that specific day. The five of you were planning on going to the golfing course tomorrow, so you’d get time together then.

But they were wrong, because you cancelled on them, simply stating that “golf isn’t your mood, today.” They’d accepted that, but Harry knew that was bullshit, because half of the fun of golfing was competing with you.

They tried not to think much of your absence while they were on the field, but it was weird and awfully quiet without you. They’d figured it might be different throughout the week, but they were still wrong. You were with other people throughout the week while you could be, and it only made it worse for the boys because you were posting it all over your social media. Not in a flaunting manner, but just for the aesthetics. They didn’t find it very pleasing, though.

Harrison knew something was off, knew you didn’t normally just start ghosting people unless you had a real reason. He intended on figuring out what that reason was, and Tom was hell bent on learning it too. They drew up a plan to get you to come over, telling you they had a few of your missing things. You complied, figuring you’d have to face them at some point.

Strolling up to the house for the first time in ten days, you opened the door as casually as you could, only to be met with four pairs of eyes staring in your directions from seats in the open living room.

“Uhm,” You cleared your throat. “Where’s my stuff?” Tom wordlessly points to a bag on the head of the couch, and you pick it up wearily, sifting through it while you hummed. “Thanks, I’ll just take this and get out of your hair.”

“Well, wait-” Tom stands abruptly. “Why… why don’t you hang out for a bit?”

“I mean… do you want to?” The tone in which you speak catches him off guard for all of ten seconds before each of the boys are nodding their heads.

“Of course we do.” Harrison smiles and you nod wearily.

“Okay.”

However, you don’t make any move in settling down for the long run, and Tom huffs. “What’s going on here?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re avoiding us!” Harry concludes. “Why?”

You clear your throat, looking at your feet while your tongue clicks. “I, uhm, I heard you guys talking the other day.”

Harrison raises his eyebrows as a silent message for you to elaborate a little.

“You said you were tired of babysitting me, so I gave you guys some space.” They all physically defeat and you begin to defend yourself. “I just thought it’s what you wanted! You don’t have to explain.” You’re unknowingly beginning to tear up, and they all know it before you do.

“I think we should talk.”

“No, I- uhm…” You glance out the window to your car. “I should really get going.”

“No!” Harry pleads with you. “We just… we miss you.”

You stop short in your tracks, turning around slowly. “Well I don’t really think you get to. Not after what I heard.”

“That’s not fair, Y/N/N, and you know it.” Harrison’s stern with you, and you can feel the tension beginning to set nicely like a creamer.

“None of this is really fair for me, so why should it be fair for you?” You point a finger up in their direction while you shrug offendedly. “I mean, if you’re gonna say one thing don’t act like you don’t mean it.”

“But we didn’t,” Harrison says.

“Really, we didn’t. It was a stupid thing to say.” Tom adds on.

“Yeah, we’d never say it knowing you were there.”

“Oh, but you’d say it if I wasn’t around?” You’re making this more difficult, you realize, but you don’t much care, because when feelings get hurt, things get difficult, and you’ve come to terms with that.

“That’s not what I meant.” Harrison crosses his arm.

“No, but that’s what you implied.” You jab him back with your next words.

“Stop making this hard.” He’s reminding you of what things were like when you were young and arguments were regular.

“I’m not the one that started this.” You huff angrily, hand finally gripping the handle of the front door, swinging it open and slamming it harshly with an “I’ll see you all around.”

Tom blinks, glancing to Harrison in question on what to do next. Harrison sighs and so does Harry.

“I saw her leaving that day she heard you guys.” Sam speaks calmly, almost nervously. “She was- uh… she was crying.” “Oh jesus.” Tom groans, hands running through his curls. “We made her cry, Haz.”

“I know, I know.” He speaks hastily. “C’mon, I know what to do.” He picks his coat up, opening the front door as the rest of the boys follow him out.

You’re coming home that night after spending the rest of your day at the country club with some friends. You’re alone, of course, expecting to eat dinner with Aisha, though the two of you normally dine separately because you’re always with the boys and she’s always with her girlfriend. Things are different now, though.

As you open the door to your flat, you expect to find it dark and empty, but you’re met with your favorite take out meal and four very sorry boys, a large teddy bear sitting on the couch for you. You drop your bags and glance at each of them.

“What’s all this?”

“We’re really, really, really sorry.” Harrison steps forward with an apologetic smile and three DVD disks in his hands, all of your favorite movies. “But me especially. I love having you around… even if you are my baby sister.” You slap his arm playfully and he laughs. You let a smile creep onto your face at his demeanor. “We really missed you this past week.”

You nodded, fiddling with your fingers. “It just… hurt. You broke the one rule I thought…. The rule I thought we all swore to keep.”

“I know.” He sighs, looking at the boys as everyone says it simultaneously. “The circle before yourself.”

You’d seemingly all established it during your first all-nighter as a group of five. You vowed to put them before your own silly ego or public facade. Obviously, some things are harder for others.

“Can you ever forgive me?”

“Can you ever forgive us?” Tom speaks up, eyes deep.

You smile softly, voice laced with feelings. “Of course I can.” You don’t miss the smiles that break out onto their faces, and when everyone comes in for a group hug, they know things are going to be okay.

read the spinoff! - circles before yourselves - rule #2

#harrison osterfield x reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland fic #harrison osterfield fic #harrison osterfield fanfic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland angst #harrison osterfield angst #peter parker #harry holland #osterfield!reader #tom holland x osterfield!reader #reader fic #reader

290 notes · View notes

yukidragon · 3 years

Text

Our Life Snippet - Unsettled in Sunset Bird

It’s time again for another slice of my Our Life: Beginnings & Always fan novelization’s first draft! After two weeks in a row of Step 2, let’s have something from a different step, shall we? Let’s take a peek at a piece of the spooky little Step 1 moment: Ghost.

As always, thank you all for enjoying my work, and a special thanks in particular to this lovely game’s lovely creators, @gb-patch. You’re all wonderful!

…

It was a dark, moonless night, still and silent. It was so quiet that it didn’t feel natural, and that was what kept Jamie from sleeping. Normally the nights would be filled with soft noises, like the air conditioner thrumming, and the faint hints of the wind, crickets, and the ocean drifting in from outside. There seemed to be none of that tonight, no matter how hard Jamie listened, and that troubled her. Her hearing was sensitive, so she should have heard something of the usual night time sounds besides her own breathing. The only solace she found in the oppressive silence was the faint sound of Lizzie snoring in the next room over. It at least reminded her that she wasn’t alone in the house.

Jamie tried her best to shake off how eerie the night felt. Unfortunately, not even rereading her favorite book in the gentle glow of her flashlight under the safety of her covers could make her stop noticing the stillness around her. Each turn of the page was loud, too loud, and it left her too uneasy to continue reading.

After putting her book away, Jamie kept her flashlight by her side, though she forced herself to turn it off. She was supposed to be sleeping no matter how eerie it was. She just had to remind herself that there was nothing lurking in the dark, no matter how scary it seemed. There were no such things as monsters or ghosts or boogie men that tried to snatch little kids’ feet if they were too slow to get back into bed safely - her parents said so and they were right about just about everything.

Jamie tried to distract herself with happier thoughts. Memories of the fun she had this summer were the first thing to come to mind, and she sifted through them like pages in a scrapbook. This was the best summer she had ever had, and she knew that was because of Cove. All of the best moments involved him.

It was funny. Jamie had only known Cove for, what, two months now? It wasn’t a very long amount of time at all, yet her new neighbor had already become such a big part of her life.

It didn’t feel like it was August already. It felt to Jamie as though it had only been a week or two since the start of June when she first met Cove. Summer always passed by much too quickly, but this one slipped away in a blur of laughter and sunshine. It really was true that time flew when you were having fun, and it made sense that every day she spent with Cove sped by faster than a rollercoaster.

Jamie settled into her pillow with a smile on her face as she remembered the fun she and Cove had just earlier that day. Her eyelids dipped heavily, sleep finally catching up to her as she dreamed up new adventures the two of them could have tomorrow.

That was when something scraped against the window.

The sound was practically deafening in the eerie silence, and Jamie jolted upright, her eyes flying open wide to stare at the window. Nothing but darkness and the dim glow of buildings in the far distance greeted her.

It was just the wind, Jamie reassured herself. Or rather, it was likely that the wind pushed one of the branches from the tree outside her window against the glass. It wasn’t uncommon, especially in the summer when the breezes could get pretty strong, so that meant there was nothing for her to be scared of. Summer breezes could be the worst sometimes.

Jamie tucked herself back under the covers and turned her back to the window. She wasn’t going to be a scaredy cat over a tree branch and some wind. She was eight - way too old to be scared of the wind.

The scraping repeated itself, and Jamie felt the sound crawl up her spine like pins and needles. She grabbed fistfuls of her blanket and pulled it over her head, determined to ignore the creepy sound. It was nothing, and she wasn’t scared.

Unfortunately, the more Jamie tried to ignore the eerie noise, the louder it seemed to grow. The more she heard it, the less it sounded like it was a branch scratching the windows; it sounded more like something outside trying to get her attention, and it was scraping its long, gnarled fingernails against the glass, wanting to come inside.

The image made Jamie turn back around and sit upright, her eyes wide and fixed once again on the window. Again, she saw nothing there… or, at least, nothing she could see.

Jamie inched closer to the window to get a better look outside. Movement caught her eye, and she focused on the tree outside as it swayed a little in the breeze.

That proved it, Jamie told herself. It was just the wind and the tree. That was all.

Jamie kept repeating this to herself as she once more buried herself beneath the blanket. It was only the wind and branches and nothing more.

But the scratching didn’t stop. Though Jamie squeezed her eyes shut tight and tried to ignore the scraping noise, it just got louder, drowning out the sound of her heartbeat echoing hard in her ears.

For a third time Jamie sat up and stared out her window at the swaying tree, trying hard not to blink. She waited, determined to see the branch scrape her window and prove that there really was nothing to fear, no ghosts or witches or monsters trying to pry their way inside her room and gobble her up.

When the sound repeated itself, Jamie flinched, her entire body tensing up. The tree was bending in the wind alright, but not far enough for even a single branch to reach her window.

Nothing was there. Nothing touched her window. Nothing.

Jamie all but leapt from her bed, scooping up her flashlight and stuffing her feet into her slippers before hurrying to her bedroom door. She couldn’t ignore this anymore. She had to know what was making that sound.

Quietly, Jamie crept down the stairs. The lights were still on downstairs, which meant that her moms were still awake. They always stayed up so late every night.

Her first instinct was to go to her moms, but they were busy watching TV in the living room. Jamie didn’t want to bother them, not when there was nothing to see. All she had to do was go outside and see for herself that there was nothing to be scared of and then she could go back to bed.

The soft soles of her slippers allowed Jamie to sneak soundlessly past the living room. Her moms didn’t notice, too focused on whatever they were watching on TV. They didn’t even hear the soft click of the front door’s lock or the sound of it being gently opened then even more gently shut as the little girl snuck out into the dark, eerie night.

…

Cove couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t all that unusual that he would find himself lying awake in this house that was supposed to be his home now. Although the place had grown a bit more familiar to him in the past two months, this bedroom still didn’t really feel like it was his room even though it had all of his stuff in it. This left some nights, like tonight, with him lying awake and staring at the bottom of the bunk above his head.

It was so quiet. That should have made it easier to relax and fall to sleep, but tonight it somehow left Cove feeling uneasy. The only sound he could really notice was the faint burbling of his aquarium. It was also the only source of light, casting a soft blue glow through his otherwise darkened bedroom.

The fish swam around in their little home without a care. Even without his glasses, Cove could see them well enough to watch them. Some of the fish drifted about lazily while others zipped to and fro as if they had no idea it was night and everyone should be winding down for sleep.

The sight was soothing. Most nights when Cove had trouble sleeping, he found that simply watching his pets go about their own fishy lives to be a comforting distraction, and at some point he’d drift off to dreamland.

Maybe it would’ve worked that night too if Cove didn’t feel so painfully homesick.

Since his dad dragged him there, Cove had grown a bit more familiar with Sunset Bird and its countless weird quirks, but that didn’t mean he was used to it. There didn’t seem to be a day where he didn’t compare it to his real home, especially when something happened to leave him feeling alone and helpless, like a night that felt eerily quiet and empty like tonight.

Cove knew that he wasn’t really alone in the house, no matter how much it felt like he was. His pets were right there, and he knew his dad only a couple rooms away. The only one who was supposed to be there but wasn’t was his mom.

It was hard for Cove to wrap his head around the fact that it had been two months since he had seen his mom. He couldn’t think of a time when they were apart for more than a day before he was taken away from his home. She called practically every day, and it was always a relief to hear her voice and her reassurances that she missed him and still loved him, but phone calls weren’t a substitute for being with her face to face.

Her phone calls made Cove happy, but at the same time, it was hard not to feel angry with her and the countless excuses she had about why he couldn’t come back home or why she wouldn’t come see him. His dad had just as many excuses for why life just couldn’t go back to normal.

Excuses, excuses, excuses. His parents just expected Cove to accept it all no matter how unfair it was. They assured him that he would feel better about everything eventually, but he didn’t. Supposedly this house would feel like home eventually, but it didn’t. Nothing about living here felt right to him even after so many uneasy nights in this weird place. Nothing about Sunset Bird felt like home, and he knew it never would be.

A smiling face with blue eyes that glittered like the night sky filled with stars popped into his mind unbidden, disrupting his gloomy thoughts.

Jamie. If there was one good thing about Sunset Bird that Cove couldn’t find anywhere else, it was her.

Although Cove couldn’t stop missing his home and his mom, somehow spending time with Jamie allowed him to forget just how much it hurt when they were together. Somehow she had the power to make every day they spent together so much fun. He never felt lonely like this when she was around.

When Cove first came to Sunset Bird, he thought he’d never be able to smile ever again, but somehow he could when he was with Jamie. He could even laugh again despite everything. He had friends back home, but they never made him feel the way she did. Sometimes the way he felt around her confused him, but he couldn’t say that he disliked the strange fluttering feelings she set off inside him sometimes. Every moment they were together felt more right than anything else in the world.

It was a shame that it was too late to go see her. Maybe if Jamie was there, Cove wouldn’t be feeling so uneasy in ‘his’ bedroom right now.

Cove let his thoughts drift back to the fun they had earlier the day and the plans they had for tomorrow. Jamie promised to show him some secret spots only she knew about. She didn’t say what exactly made them so secret, but he was curious to see what he might find there all the same. Everything she shared with him was always so interesting and fun. He could hardly wait to see her again.

At some point, Cove found his eyes growing heavy as he focused on the countless memorable moments he shared with Jamie this summer. He stopped thinking about all the things that were wrong and missing as he filled his mind with thoughts of her.

Cove had barely begun to drift off when a horrible scraping sound tore him from sleep and threw him harshly back to reality.

Cove jolted and his eyes instantly darted to the window, heart pounding hard in his ears. He didn’t see anything strange, but it was a lot harder to see in general in a dark room without his glasses. Reaching over to the nightstand, he quickly retrieved his glasses and put them on before casting another frightened gaze to the window.

When the sound repeated itself, Cove threw back the covers and hopped out of bed. A shiver ran through him, not just because of the unsettling sound, but also because it was an uncomfortably cool night. He hurried over to the window and peered out into the dark night, but all he saw was the fence and the wall of the house next door. There was no sign of whatever made that eerie noise.

Cove couldn’t settle down without some sort of explanation, some proof that whatever was causing the noise wasn’t something frightening and dangerous like a ghost or a monster or… He barely cut his thoughts off there as another shiver ran through his body, one definitely not caused by the temperature this time.

His bedroom faced the side of the house, but his window was wide enough that if Cove looked at just the right angles he could see some of the backyard and the street in front of the house. What little he saw of the backyard showed him nothing but ominous dark shadows that could be anything, while in front…

A shock of blue caught his eye instantly. In the glow of the street light stood none other than Jamie. Her hair was down for once, but that was obviously because she was dressed for bed, not running around outside to play. She stood in the middle of the street in a set of purple patterned pajamas and a pair of oversized slippers that looked a bit like she stuffed her feet in a couple of her stuffed animals.

Cove stared at Jamie for a moment more, watching as she looked up one side of the street then down the other. Then he was hurrying to shove his feet into his shoes. He barely thought to throw on a sweater to combat the cold before he quietly snuck outside to find out what drew her outside on a creepy night like tonight.

#Our Life Beginnings & Always #Our Life #ourlifeba #Cove Holden #Jamie Last #Jamie Leimomi #My Writing

49 notes · View notes

beewolfwrites · 3 years

Text

And When I am Formulated, Sprawling on a Pin - Chapter Ten: A Train Whistle

A slightly shorter chapter this time, but hopefully short means sweet, maybe?

You can find the full chapter (along with all the others) on AO3 here :)

Thanks for reading!!

------------------------------------------------------------

I couldn’t keep my eyes from the red stain on Chishiya’s hoodie as we entered the deserted shopping mall. He was walking and behaving just as usual, and his expression gave nothing away. Even when we had backed back to the park gates to collect the Two of Spades card, he hadn’t complained. But I knew he was in pain. He had to be.

‘We don’t have to do this,’ I repeated for the umpteenth time. My voice echoed through the empty mall. ‘I’ll go with someone else in my next game.’

He was strolling beside me, regarding the stores around us with boredom. ‘It doesn’t matter, since we’re already here.’

‘There might be a pharmacy in here somewhere.’ I chewed on my lip, struggling not to let my anxiety get the best of me. ‘Maybe if I find some medical supplies, I could bandage it up.’

‘I wouldn’t trust you to bandage up anything,’ he replied. ‘I’ve seen the state of your arm.’

Any offence I felt at that comment was pushed aside, as I chalked it up to him being irritable. My arm wasn’t too bad, was it? No matter. I had to find some way of keeping him from moving too much and aggravating his wound.

Spotting a bench between two large artificial flower beds, I suggested, ‘why don’t you sit over there? I’ll be super-duper quick.’

His eyes slid over to mine, with a look that told me he knew exactly what I was thinking. ‘Fine, but there’s no point in rushing.’ Then pulling out his headphones, he took a seat on the bench, leaned back and closed his eyes.

Leaving him there, I nervously flitted about between stores. Most of them had been plundered and looted by players, and others had been turned into hideouts, soon abandoned after their owners had died. But some were untouched, and it was these stores that I visited first. I snagged two hoodies for myself, one pale purple and the other a sea green, along with several t-shirts, socks, jean shorts, and a new pair of trainers, as mine were stained with algae and squelched with every step.

It was strange. In the previous world, I had never been able to justify spending money on branded clothes. In fact, I never would have even touched the sportswear section. But now, I never knew who or what I might have to outrun, and it seemed like the obvious choice.

I was on my way to leave, when I drifted past the menswear section and suddenly remembered that the soggy hoodie I was wearing was tinged brown by the pond water.

‘I want that one back.’

‘Sorry, Chishiya,’ I muttered, picturing his disapproval. ‘I’ll get you a new one anyway.’

I began sifting through the men’s clothing section, searching for one just like what I was wearing. Only I couldn’t find it.

Come on, there has to be something he would wear in here.

Then I spied a flash of white hidden in the rails and picked out a clean white hoodie, very similar to the one he usually wore. He didn’t strike me as someone who would go for bright colours.

Something like this would do, right?

Swiping two bags from behind the till, I tipped the clothes into them, taking care that Chishiya’s new hoodie was folded up neatly.

And then there was the question of swimwear. Hatter’s rule was both disgusting and ridiculous, but I couldn’t exactly refuse.

Slipping into another sportswear shop, I managed to find a few one-piece swimsuits that could function as a t-shirt if I wore them with shorts. But for good measure, I grabbed a bikini, too. One that wasn’t quite as stringy as some of the options at the Beach.

Right, that’s it! I was finally done. He’s probably wondering where I’ve gotten to.

I left the store and started back to where I had left Chishiya. As I passed by the deadened shopfronts and frozen mannequins, my mind drifted back to his behavior in the park. I understood that he followed me because he was an executive, and he was technically supposed to keep an eye on my performance. But the way he had grabbed me when we encountered the hunter… the way his arms had squeezed me painfully close. I just couldn’t figure him out. The man was like a closed book, with front and back covers that looked the same, even upside down. I didn’t even know where to begin reading him.

Yet my skin still tingled where it had been pressed against his own. I could still feel the ghost of his body heat, and every shudder that passed through him in the cold. It was disconcerting. Chishiya almost seemed like a god, but he was so very, very human.

Don’t think too hard about it, I told myself. He was probably just toying with me back there.

As I walked past a window, something caught my eye. A sparkle from a jewellery store. It was only small, but it was like a treasure trove filled with gems, gold and silver.

I glanced down the mall. A few minutes is fine, right? Just a few minutes.

This wasn’t just any jewellery store; it was the expensive kind. The kind I used to covet in the real world for all its gemstones and silverwork. Exploring the glass cabinets, I peered at the spectrum of crystals until one ring caught my eye. A pear-shaped drop of labradorite, set on either side by sterling silver flowers.

‘I see you’re enjoying your freedom away from the Beach.’

Chishiya’s voice sounded from the entrance. He was eyeing the jewellery around him with skepticism.

‘Sorry,’ I said, sheepish. ‘I got a bit distracted.’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t care. Get whatever you want.’ He nodded at the ring. ‘Even that.’

‘I… I couldn’t.’

‘Suit yourself,’ he said, leaning against the wall, ‘though I didn’t take you for the materialistic type.’

Scowling at him, I mumbled, ‘it’s not like that at all.’

‘If it’s the idea of stealing that’s bothering you, it doesn’t make a difference. People murder each other every day.’

I felt the drip of blood tapping against my cheeks, and briefly closed my eyes. When I opened them again, the sensation had disappeared. ‘Has it ever occurred to you that jewellery isn’t just about the sparkly stuff?’

His eyes were focused on me with a quiet curiosity, although it no longer made me squirm.

When did I stop being bothered by it?

Looking at the labradorite ring, I tried to find the words to explain to him.

‘Back in the old world, I knew all about gemstones, the meanings of them, their histories, the legends,’ I told him, knowing he probably didn’t care. ‘Obviously, I’ve never really believed they cure illness or bring luck. I know it’s not possible, but they still felt pretty magical. I always hated diamonds though, since they just seem kind of soulless. But I always imagined…’ I trailed off, embarrassed. ‘It’s stupid, I know, but I always had this idea that if someone ever wanted to marry me, they’d choose a ring like this one, with a stone that has a meaning.’

I thought back to the teenage girl. Perhaps she had similar dreams. Maybe she had wanted to meet someone, get married, have children, grow old. And there was me, the murderer who wanted to fall in love. It was pathetic. When I glanced back to Chishiya, his eyes were closed as he rested against the wall.

Typical.

But just when I thought he hadn’t been listening to a word of what I’d said, he cracked an eye open. ‘It’s that level of naivety that’ll get you killed. I suppose you’ve got even more romantic ideas running around too.’

His words left me exposed. Vulnerable. But then I knew he was wrong about some things. I wasn’t completely naive, at least not in the way he was imagining.

‘Romance isn’t the same as love. Love is different.’

‘Love is for idiots with too much time on their hands,’ he said lazily.

‘No, romance is for idiots with too much time on their hands. Love isn’t nearly as obvious.’ I paused, thinking hard. ‘Have you read much by Haruki Murakami?’

‘He’s called Murakami Haruki over here, but no,’ he replied. ‘I haven’t. He’s not considered much of a literary figure in Japan. At least not by the critics.’

I smiled. ‘Perhaps not here, but the rest of the world thinks so.’

Thinking back over what I had read, I fished around for a specific title, but the name escaped me. ‘There’s a short story of his,’ I explained. ‘He compares the feeling of being in love to a train whistle.’

Chishiya looked at me with disinterest, but I could see something in his gaze. He was following along.

Even though it had been years since I first read it, I recalled the story vividly. ‘Imagine at night, you wake up and you have this sudden, horrible feeling that you could disappear at any moment. But at the same time, you feel you could explode. It’s that kind of emptiness that swallows you up. There’s no meaning to anything, and you no longer care whether you live or die. In fact, you don’t even know whether you’re really alive or dead at all. You’re just suffocating in nothingness.’

Chishiya turned fully toward me. ‘And?’

I gave him a smile. ‘And then you hear a train whistle. It’s far away, and the sound is so tiny you can hardly hear it. But it cuts through the isolation. You’re no longer floating as long as you can hear that whistle.’ I nodded to myself. ‘That’s love, at least to me. It sort of creeps up behind you, and by the time you realise it’s there, it’s too late. You’re already trapped.’

There was a moment of silence where he didn’t respond. Then he said, in the quietest voice possible, ‘how unpleasant.’

Things became awkward after that, and every attempt I made to strike up conversation was met with stiffness on Chishiya’s part. Slowly and silently, we began to head back to the Beach. The bags were uncomfortable to carry, but I didn’t want to ask Chishiya for a hand. Not with his injury. Even now, the blood stain on his clothes had grown bigger.

I suggested again that he should see An, but he dismissed the comment entirely. It was as if his mood had flipped, the amusement having drained out of him, leaving nothing but the cold.

We passed through derelict streets decorated with unlit signs and empty windows, until the Beach finally came into view in a cacophony of music, screams and spotlights. As I shuffled through a back entrance to avoid the crowds, I found that Chishiya had disappeared without a word, probably to his room, or perhaps even to find An. I still had the replacement hoodie I’d found for him, but it could wait until after he’d received medical aid.

I passed through the hotel halls, and turned a corner, almost bumping into Kuina. She was holding a drink in one hand, and her mouth stretched into a wide smile when she saw me.

‘I see you made it! How did it go?’ Leaning back, she assessed me from head to toe. ‘You look like you’ve been thrown into a swamp.’

‘Two of Spades, and you’re close. Chishiya made me swim in a pond.’ I said, stifling a yawn. ‘Where are you heading?’

She shook her glass, the ice tinkling. ‘The pool. Thought I’d live a little. Why don’t you join me? You look like you could use a drink.’

I shivered in my still-damp clothes. ‘Ah, it’s okay. I’ll pass for tonight,’ I said. ‘I’m really tired after the game. Plus, these clothes are icky.’

Kuina snickered. ‘You don’t say. Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.’ With that, she disappeared down the hall, waving to me as she went.

Ducking away from the chaotic drunks in the hallways, I crawled all the way up to my room, before realising I had forgotten to ask Kuina about the hoodie, about why she never told me it belonged to Chishiya.

I’ll do it next time I see her. I’m too tired now.

Sighing, I didn’t even bother to turn on the lights as I dumped the bags of clothes onto the floor. After being drenched in pond water, I definitely needed a shower. But the combination of the Hunting Season game and the walk back through Tokyo had sapped all my energy.

Tomorrow, I can take a shower and wash the bed linen and Chishiya’s hoodie tomorrow. For now…

I curled up, still in my clothes, and slipped away into a quiet sleep. And for the first time since the Hearts game, I dreamt of nothing. Not the businessman’s starched collar… nor the cool twinge of gunmetal… or even the drip of blood against my eyelids; just blackness.

Outside, the shadows of hollow buildings blurred together into a vacant grey space. A cool wind blew through the alleyways, catching the edges of roof tiles, and slipping into a gentle whistle that rang through Tokyo at midnight.

#alice in borderland #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x oc #chishiya x reader #chishiya alice in borderland #aib

76 notes · View notes

jaskiers-sweetkiss · 4 years

Text

Sunset Swerve - Part 1

Pairing: Luke x OC

Word Count: 2.1K

Series Summary: Apollo 81 and Sunset Curve had been rival bands since their creation, and their leaders, Jordan Moss and Luke Patterson, had despised each other even further. Things were just looking up for both bands as they get the opportunity to play at the Orpheum but a few bad hot dogs send Luke, Alex, Reggie, and Jordan to early graves before they get the chance. 25 years later the ghosts of Sunset Curve accidentally release Jordan from an old Apollo 81 demo and tensions between her and Luke immediately flare. However, they need to band together to finally accomplish their life-long goals: to play their music for the world.

Warnings: uhh some cursing, mentions of death (I mean, the main characters are ghosts)

A/N: I’m officially obsessed with this show and its characters and I would very much like my own hot ghost band please and thanks. Please let me know what you think and send me an ask if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters!

Teaser Part 2 Masterlist

___

The relatively empty theater erupted into cheers when Sunset Curve finished their soundtrack. Jordan didn’t deign to join the venue’s staff in their congratulations; though the band clearly deserved the praise, she’d never admit it out loud. Sunset Curve were good, and if Jordan didn’t despise their lead singer so much she’d probably be a fan but that simply wasn’t the case. She and Luke had been rivals since grade school and it was only fitting that they both started their own bands and had been competing for venues for years. What didn’t make sense was that when Sunset Curve booked a headliner at the Orpheum, they recommended Apollo 81 as their opening act. Jordan could only assume Luke had done it to rub in the fact that they were headlining the Orpheum but still, the venue was a hotspot for record execs- Sunset Curve had given them a huge opportunity to go big.

“We gotta fuel up before the show, I’m thinking street dogs,” Luke’s proclamation was met with cheers from Alex and Reggie, and Jordan rolled her eyes, lifting off the column she’d been leaning against to go find her own band.

“Moss, you in?” Luke called from the stage and Jordan startled, turning to give the boy a look of bewilderment. “C’mon, it’s on me.”

Jordan narrowed her eyes suspiciously but nodded anyway, adjusting her cross-body bag as she made her way to the guys. She watched bemusedly as Bobby made a beeline towards the cute Orpheum employee.

“You guys are really good,” she complimented. “I’ve seen a lot of bands, been in a few myself. I was really feeling it. You guys too.” She said, turning towards Jordan and the girl couldn’t help but beam at the complement.

“That’s what we do this for,” Luke said, clapping his bandmates on the back. “I’m Luke, by the way.”

“Hi, I’m Reggie.”

“Alex.”

“Bobby.” The boy pushed Luke behind him and Jordan stifled a laugh.

“Jordan.” She introduced herself.

“It was nice meeting you guys. I’m Rose,” the girl introduced and Jordan began digging through her bag.

“Here’s our demo and a t-shirt,” she said, pulling them from her bag and offering them to Rose.

She kept a small supply of the merch on her at all times, anything to get their name out there.

“Geez, Moss. We offer you food and you try to outdo us?” Luke said, elbowing Reggie who looked confused for a second before offering up the merch in his hands.

“Oh! And here’s our demo and a t-shirt size beautiful,” he said with a wink, trying to outdo her and flirt at the same time. Jordan rolled her eyes.

“Thank you,” she gasped sincerely before slinging the shirts over her shoulder. “I’ll make sure not to wipe the tables with these ones.”

“Oh! Good idea!” Alex chimed in. “Whenever they get wet they sorta.. fall apart in your hands.”

Jordan snorted as the other guys blanched and the information.

“Don’t you guys have to go get hot dogs?” Bobby looked pointedly at the guys, silently urging them to leave before they could embarrass him further.

Luke grinned, hitting Bobby’s chest with the back of his hand as he leaned in towards Rose, “He ate a hamburger for lunch.”

The rest of the guys grinned as they walked out the venue’s back door. Jordan turned to smile apologetically at Rose and wave goodbye before jogging to catch up with the guys, her bag hitting her hip as she went.

When she caught up to them in the alley behind the theater Luke was going on about something cliche, wanting a connection with everyone through music or something. Jordan wanted to scoff but, well, she kind of agreed.

She and Reggie broke away from the group at the same time to hand out some of their t-shirts to the fans in line. They were in and out before the fans recognized them, resulting in them calling their names as the pair walked away.

“Great minds think alike, huh?” Reggie joked, bumping her shoulder with his own lightly as they caught up to the rest of the group.

Jordan laughed before furrowing her brow in confusion. When had Sunset Curve started treating her like she was one of them?

It must just be the exhilaration of playing the Orpheum, she concluded as they arrived at their destination.

“Uh, do you guys normally get your hot dogs out of the back of a car?” Jordan remarked, equal parts skeptical and disgusted as she looked down the ally at Sam & Ella’s.

“Relax, Moss,” Luke chided. “A hot dog’s a hot dog.”

Jordan rolled her eyes but followed them anyway, the four of them getting their hot dogs and crowing around the back of the Oldsmobile to add their condiments.

“It would be nice to eat somewhere where the toppings aren’t in the back of an Oldsmobile.” Alex acknowledged, accidentally getting pickle juice all over the owners’ jumper cables.

Once satisfied with their creations the boys plopped down on the sofa across the ally and Jordan perched on one end next to Reggie.

“This is awesome you guys. We’re playing the Orpheum!” Luke began to monologue as the guys looked at him with smiles on their faces. “I can’t even count how many bands played here and then got huge.”

Pride swelled up inside Jordan. Sure Apollo 81 was only the opening act, but they were still about to make their big break right alongside Sunset Curve. There was something poetic about it, two rivals about to achieve their dreams together.

“Eat up boys, and girl,” Luke added, grinning at Jordan. “‘Cause after tonight, everything changes.”

Like a scene right out of a movie, they all grinned at each other before taking their first bites.

Jordan grimaced at the flavor, remembering why she wasn’t a big fan of hot dogs.

“That’s a new flavor,” Alex said, sounding concerned but Reggie and Luke laughed it off.

“Chill man,” Reggie said nonchalantly. “Street dogs haven’t killed us yet.”

____ 25 years later ____

“Hey, what’s this Apollo 81 stuff doing in here?” Reggie called out into the garage.

The guys had just returned from the beach, their spirits lifted by their little jam session. Reggie had immediately poofed up to the loft, curious about what other items were left behind . Luke was sitting on his couch, lyric notebook in hand, inspired by his newfound ability to summon his guitar at will. Alex was laying across the couch with his feet in Luke’s lap, having just previously announced that he was considering taking up knitting to pass the time.

“Maybe Julie’s mom was a fan?” Alex answered, getting up from the couch to join Reggie in the loft, his interest piqued. Neither of the boys noticed the way Luke stiffened at the mention of the band.

Reggie nodded in response to Alex’s theory.

“I wonder what happened to them anyway?” He was sitting on the floor of the loft, the box in his lap as he rifled through some of the memorabilia- mostly flyers from their performances, from small open mic nights to the Orpheum. Reggie pulled out the Orpheum flyer. “Do you think Jordan survived that night? I mean, she was with us when we died but not in that weird room.”

“I don’t know Reg, I can’t see how she would’ve survived when we didn’t.”

“You think she’s still in her own black room? By herself?”

“That’s really depressing Reggie.” Alex deadpanned. “She probably passed on, y’know?”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Reggie brightened, returning the Orpheum flyer to the box and continuing to sift through it, Alex leaning over his shoulder as he did.

“Hey! Their demo!” He said excitedly, holding up the CD case. “I always secretly liked their music.”

“I think we all did,” Alex said thoughtfully, falling forward when Reggie poofed out from under him.

Reggie reappeared below the loft, making his way to the CD player left by their new band setup.

Before Alex or Luke realized what was happening Reggie had hit play on the machine and Apollo 81’s “Lost” was blasting through the garage.

“Woah! Reggie, people can hear that and Julie’s not here!” Luke exclaimed, jumping up from the couch to turn it off at the same time that Alex poofed down from the loft.

Before either of them could reach the CD player, something that could only be described as portal-esque opened up in front of them and the sound of the demo was drowned out by a feminine voice yelling “What the hell?!”

___

Jordan hit the ground hard as she was dropped from the portal. She didn’t even bother to stand up, instead letting herself fall flat on her back with a groan, her eyes shut.

What now? Another black room to sit in? She thought with a sigh. Death sucks.

“Is this how Julie felt?” A voice whispered.

The sudden awareness that she wasn’t alone startled Jordan and she quickly sat up, her eyes flying open only to be met with some of the last faces she had seen before she died.

She couldn’t help it, she immediately screamed and the guys started screaming too.

After a moment, the shock wore off (well, sort of anyway. She still had no idea what was going on) and the screaming stopped. Luke nervously offered a hand, presumably to help her up off the floor but she scowled and pushed it away, standing up on her own.

“Why am I back in your garage?” She asked, glaring slightly at the boys as if they were to blame, which they might’ve been. “And how the hell did you change the decor so fast?”

“Okay, well, it’s a little complicated-“ Reggie started but Alex put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Well, you remember when we died, right?” Alex said in a much softer voice than Reggie, and Jordan nodded.

“You mean when you fed me a poisonous hot dog before I could perform at the Orpheum.” She said, glaring at Luke specifically.

“Hey! If you’ll recall, we all ate those hot dogs and we all missed our chance to play the Orpheum.” Luke bit back, immediately becoming defensive.

“Man, I really thought the twenty-five years might’ve quelled their rivalry,” Reggie muttered to Alex and Jordan whipped around to face him.

“Did you just say it’s been twenty-five years?” She shrieked and Alex groaned at his friend’s lack of tact.

“Yeah,” Alex answered, glaring at his bandmates to shut them up. “We died in ’95 and it’s 2020 now.”

“You’re telling me I was alone in that room for twenty-five years?” She asked, her voice becoming louder and more aggressive as she went on.

“Bet probably cried the whole time like Alex did.” Luke snarked and Jordan’s expression grew livid.

“Okay, first of all, crying is a completely reasonable reaction to dying. And second of all, fuck you, you emotionless piece of-“

The song change from the CD player caught her attention and her face broke into a self-righteous grin.

“Were you guys listening to our music?” She asked rhetorically, eyes gleaming at the discovery.

Luke scowled, stalking over to the CD player and turning it off.

“Aw, c’mon, that was one of my favorites,” she whined, following Luke’s steps towards the player and hitting play. Well, she tried to hit play but her finger went right through it.

Luke laughed triumphantly and Jordan stuck her tongue out at him, crossing her arms like a petulant child.

“Oh, very mature, Moss.”

“Oh, I’m immature? Even in death you’re still a whiny, jealous, dickhead!“

“Please! If anyone’s whiny and jealous it’s you!”

“Should we do something?” Alex asked in a whisper, leaning towards Reggie but unable to take his eyes off the two bickering ghosts in front of them. They were like a train wreck.

“Nah, just let them get it out of their systems,” Reggie responded, sounding confident despite past experience with the two.

“You are so self-obsessed!”

“Are you kidding me? You’re the queen of self-obsession!”

“Oh my gosh, I can’t do this!” Jordan exclaimed. “I’m out! See you in hell, asshole!”

“No, Jordan, wait!” Luke called but Jordan had already poofed away.

He slumped to the ground with a groan, head in his hands. “I have to go get her.”

“I’ve got it,” Alex said, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder before poofing away himself.

“You don’t think we’ll actually go to hell, do you?” Reggie filled the sudden silence and Luke shook his head, poofing out of the garage as well.

Part 2

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp fic #julie and the phantoms fic #luke patterson #Luke Patterson fic #jatp luke #jatp luke fic #luke jatp #luke jatp fic #luke x oc #luke patterson x oc #reggie peters #jatp reggie #alex mercer #jatp alex #julie melina #ghost oc #musician oc

104 notes · View notes

unsaid-stardust · 3 years

Text

Home is Wherever I'm with You

Even though Luke gained some closure with his mom thanks to his brightest burning star, he still finds himself going to his parents’ house every now and then.

He doesn’t exactly know why, there’s no thought process behind it. He just gets this pull in his chest every few days that seems to take him to his house. Maybe it’s a part of being a ghost. They do say that ghosts go where their soul latched onto and while Luke always thought his instrument was more attached to his soul than anything else, his house was still a part of him, even if it was small.

The visits didn’t make him feel the way they used to before ‘Unsaid Emily’ was finally seen by Emily. Luke still didn’t feel like he probably should, sad merely for the fact that he misses them. Instead, he felt numb. Which he guessed was better than leaving the house feeling like an anchor was lying down on his chest the way he did before. But, he’d rather feel something, anything.

He just didn’t expect it to be betrayal.

Luke had poofed into the kitchen and found his way back onto the countertop. He didn’t remember when he started doing that, it was just a thing he always did, ever since he was little even. Alex and Reggie joke that he likes to feel tall, but in reality, Luke feels like it ironically grounds him.

As he took in his surroundings, Luke realized that he heard music playing. The source? A record player that he had no idea his parents still owned; The Who blasting with “My Generation”. Soon, Luke spotted his father cooking dinner, shaking his head to the rhythm and singing along to the stutters in the chorus.

Luke gripped the sides of the counter. He had never seen his dad like this. If he had, then maybe there would’ve been more incentive for Luke to stay. And then he wouldn’t be here the way he currently was. He wouldn’t be....no. Luke couldn’t start thinking like that again. Just because his dad was listening to music doesn’t suddenly mean that he had a secret passion for it.

Luke’s thoughts were thankfully shed away as his mom’s laughter sounded the kitchen.

“Well someone’s in a good mood,” She commented as she hugged her husband from behind. Mitch smiled brighter than Luke had seen during any of his visits.

“Yeah, I was sifting through some old boxes and found a bunch of our records. Made me think of Woodstock again,” He responded.

If Luke had a heart, he was pretty sure it would’ve stopped in that moment. Woodstock? Like the 3 day music festival that was all about music and peace Woodstock? The festival filled with drugs and alcohol and-and sex Woodstock?

The festival that was about everything Emily and Mitch stood against as parents Woodstock?

“Oh yeah, those were the days, huh?” Emily reminisced. Mitch hummed in agreement.

“I still remember the first time I saw you in the crowd at the Janis Joplin set. Don’t think I could forget it even if I tried,” Mitch proclaimed.

“Yeah? I still remember you putting me on your shoulders during Hendrix’s set. You dared me to crowd surf, but for some reason, that’s where I drew the line at that festival,” Emily laughed.

“You did always know when to quit. Unlike me who thought it would be a good idea to buy our son a guitar so that he would be like Jimmy Hendrix.’

Luke froze, the anchor starting to reappear on his chest. His dad....his dad wanted him to be like one of the greats? That didn’t make any sense.

“Hey, I'm just as much to blame. I thought it would be a good outlet for him. He was always so stubborn, so bottled up, I thought maybe if he couldn’t talk to us he could-- It was--it was just supposed to be a hobby,” Emily explained, her voice starting to give out towards the end. Mitch turned around and brought her in for a hug.

“It’s ok, it’s ok. We couldn’t have possibly known, Emily.” Mitch soothed.

Luke felt dizzy. And nauseous. And-could ghosts even feel those things? Oh, well, it didn’t matter, because Luke was feeling those things. And tears were streaming down his face uncontrollably, his body shaking to try and keep it together. But, he couldn’t.

He brought his sleeve up to his face, trying to wipe away and remnants of tears. He couldn’t go to Julie’s like this. But, he had nowhere else to go, and he definitely didn’t want to be here.

So, he poofed through the tears and landed in the studio of all places. Normally, he’d be more than okay with that, but he just didn’t wanna see--

“Hey, man, where have you been? Rehearsal started like 15 minutes ago,” Reggie interrogated. Luke didn’t stay to entertain. Instead, he just walked away without a word, not looking anyone in the eye.

He didn’t know where he was going, he just couldn’t stay there. At some point, Luke managed to find solace on the porch swing in front of the Molina’s house, and he crumbled into himself, pulling his knees to his chest, resting his head on top of them.

How could his parents do this to him? How could they act like music was this terrible thing, the absolute worst thing, their son could get passionate about when they clearly were the ones that passed it onto him?

“Luke?” A soft voice sounded causing Luke to lift his head up.

Julie.

Of course it was Julie.

Good, kind hearted, loving, actual angel on earth, Julie.

He didn’t want to talk, but that was the thing about Julie. She got him. Because as soon as he looked up at her, she moved to make her way towards the swing, sat down beside him and rested her head onto his shoulder.

She didn’t say anything. Didn’t ask what was wrong. Didn’t say his name. Just sat there with her head on his shoulder because she knew him. She knew that’s what he needed. And god, did he need that.

He needed the smell of her shampoo, peaches on a summer day. He needed the sound of her breathing reminding him that even though he didn’t have a breath anymore, he still needed to follow her rhythm.

He needed her.

Luke doesn’t know how long they sat like that. The warmth of Julie’s living body radiating onto his own skin, the slight L.A breeze gently pushing the swing they sat on. But, Luke did know, that being there with her made him feel the way he should; Calm and alive at the same time, the way the waves looked after a raging storm. He felt like he could tell her anything, like the way it should’ve been with his parents.

“My parents...” He broke the silence and Julie lifted her head off of his shoulder so that she could look at him, but she placed her hand on his wrist gently, knowing what he needed.

“They met at a Woodstock. They....they loved music...” he managed to choke out.

Julie parted her lips, and god if he wasn’t so sad at that moment, he would’ve kissed her.

“But...if they loved music...why didn’t-why didn’t they love that you loved it?” She chose her words carefully. But, Luke still felt overwhelmed. Because how couldn’t he?

How couldn’t the tears make their way back into his eyes without his consent? How couldn’t his chest feel tight? How couldn’t he lose it?

“I don’t know-I don’t know,” Was all he could manage to say as he shook his head, the tears continuing to fall.

Julie pulled him back into her, his head burying itself in the crook of her neck, his hands twisting themselves in her hair.

“Hey, hey. You still got me, yeah? And Alex and Reggie. And Flynn and WIllie. We all love you and we love that you love music. That’s what matters right? We may not be the same family as your parents, but we’re still your family. And you did that all on your own. You found us. Not your parents. Not the universe. Not Caleb. You. And I think that’s something pretty amazing,” Julie explained.

Luke pulled back from Julie, the tears drying on their own, his eyes finding a home in hers.

He never thought of it that way. Because, around Julie, he always felt like they were meant to know each other. Like some sort of invisible string tied them together way before either of theme existed. But, she was right. The universe may have placed them in a path where they could find each other, but he was still the one that found her. And Luke was so fucking lucky to have found her. This-bright burning star. This wicked beauty. This wrecking ball of a talent and any and all other metaphors that describe just how amazing she was.

And not only did he find her, but he found someone that loves him. Truly, really, genuinely, loves him. All of him. Not just his pretty stuff, but the ugly parts too. His stubbornness, his one track mind, and most importantly, his passion.

Maybe, his soul wasn’t as attached to his literal home, but Luke thinks that the the home he found in Julie Molina made up for that.

tagging: @moony221b @willexx @littledancersun @blush-and-books @lydias--stiles @romantiquesnouvelles

#julie and the phantoms #juke #Julie Molina x Luke patterson #blame Jillian it was HER idea #salkjdfh #bree writes jatp

13 notes · View notes

tatooedlaura-blog · 4 years

Text

Geometry of a Triangle

I found a few hours of quiet time and what better way to spend them than to revisit that beautiful thing called, “Triangle” ...

It’s a standalone and I’ll be tagging @today-in-fic ...

&&&&&&&&&&

“Oh, brother.”

With that statement, she pushed herself off the bed rail and turned, click-heeling back into the hallway, running into a clump of boss and unwashed boys, “how is he?”

“He’s delusional.” Moving past them, she hit the down button on the elevator when she reached it, “he needs time, rest, and probably another CT scan, which I will schedule for him once I get downstairs.”

The four of them, following like obedient dogs, got on the elevator with her and just as the doors were closing, “damn it. I forgot my keys in there.” Recklessly flinging her arm in between twin metal deathtraps, then stepping out once they’d reopened, “why don’t you guys go and I’ll call you if anything changes?”

Not one to question her, ever, they said their goodbyes and disappeared. Once the elevator had definitely left the floor, she took a deep breath, wondering if collapse against the wall would be appropriate given the amount of stress still choking her system. Why was he always trying to kill her, inadvertently mind you, but still, every time he left his apartment, he put her in panic mode.

She really fucking hated panic mode.

Taking a minute to collect herself while staring out the window at absolutely no view at all, hospital expansion building blocking the view of what was probably a very pretty neighborhood.

Whatever.

She took her time going back to his room, companions not fluttering around her, peppering with questions, irritating her with endless regurgitation, explanation and exaltation of the exploits of her thankfully not drowned partner.

And Skinner just needed to go away in general; she’d kissed him in the elevator and now couldn’t look him in the eye given mortal embarrassment.

She needed a vacation.

&&&&&&&&&

Finally, many deep breaths later, she was back at his door, numbered 342 in the grand scheme but from her last count, it was hospital room number 206, give or take; she also counted emergency room curtained off areas as rooms so her count might be a little skewed.

Walking back in without knocking, she thought maybe he’d be asleep and she could do her thing and go home to warm bed, fragrant bath, cup of hot chocolate, not necessarily in that order. He wasn’t asleep, however, instead looking up at her, tracking her as she carefully shut the door, turned, crossed her arms, “I was beginning to wonder if you’d be back.”

“I had to get rid of them before I could …” her voice cracked here, tears rushing to the surface, falling freely down her cheeks in under a second.

Mulder tried to get up but was forced back down by gravity and dizziness, so instead, he reached out his hand, “come here. I’m sorry. I hate seeing you cry.”

“If you wouldn’t do such stupid things, maybe I wouldn’t have to cry.” Swiping her face, the torrent already slowing to a trickle, she sniffed hard, “maybe you’re like a puppy. You need a good swat every now and then in order to learn not to put me through this crap.”

Beside his bed by now, he reached his hand out, hooking it in the pocket of her jacket, “I have never intentionally set out to make you cry. I swear.”

Growling at him, she dried her face one last time with her fingers, looking down at him, “did you really say earlier that you loved me? How many drugs are you on, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“You should know. You’re the doc, doc.”

Moving to see his chart again, she zoned in on the narcotics area, perusing then sifting through her memory, “looks like plenty. More than enough to say all kinds of incriminating things.”

Looking at her sheepishly, “did I really say ‘I love you’ though?”

And her heart jumped then sank, bobbed back to the surface and sank again, “you don’t remember?” He looked innocently guilty and she tilted her head at him, “I won’t hold it against you then.”

“Thanks.”

Moving back to his side, she pulled the chair over, slotting her feet in the undercarriage of the bed and settling back, head comfortable after a moment, Mulder’s fingers wiggling in her direction, his discreet invite to hold his hand while they fell asleep.

She both hated and loved their routines.

“I really am sorry I always make you cry.”

“I can’t imagine this life without you, Mulder, such as it is.” Thinking back to all the times she’d cried for him, both inside and out, “I have often wished that my stress levels weren’t congruent to the production of my tear ducts but they are and we have both learned to live with that.”

“I still hate that I make you cry.”

Squeezing his fingers, “go to sleep, Mulder. I’ll see you when you wake up.”

&&&&&&&&

Ten minutes later, she expected him to be deep in dreamland but looking in his direction once she realized she didn’t hear his whistle-snoring nose, she saw his eyes open, staring intently at her, studying form and function of his Scully, “why aren’t you asleep yet?”

“Trying to ignore my headache while I think about a few things.”

Dusk was dropping outside, their room growing dim and soft, her voice quiet across the vast region between them, “what kinds of things?”

“Nazis and Thor’s hammer and shiny red dresses.”

He must be wandering his delusions again and she figured, why not wade in with him, “were the Nazis wearing the red dresses?”

“No, thank God but you were.”

“I was wearing a shiny red dress? How did I look?”

“If I answer that question, you’ll hit me again.”

Maybe she shouldn’t play into his medication after all, “well, why don’t you go to sleep and dream about things and tomorrow, we will get another head scan.”

The side of his face ached from her 1939 clenched fist and deciding to go for broke, given he knew she’d chock up anything he said to drug-addled haze, “your hair was slicked back, pin-curled, perfect even as we ran up and down the halls, thwarting Nazis and trying to find a way to get me home.” Continuing when all she did was tilt her head, listening with both ear and he hoped, heart, “you saved the world in a knee-length dark red dress and heels and,” pinpoint focus on her darkening blue eyes, “you looked more beautiful than I’ve ever deserved to see you.”

Oh, she could so easily be dragged into his delirium … dream … reality …

This was headed to a bad place and she needed to stop the train before she got fully onboard, believing every last word falling from his lips, “I always thought I looked pretty good in my pajama pants and Yosemite Sam t-shirt.”

“That’s my t-shirt, by the way.”

Returning to lightness even as her heart pounded unexpectedly in her chest, “you say yours, I say mine. I keep it. We both win.”

“How do I win?”

Was she really going to say it?

“Because you get to see me in it.”

She said it.

“If I ever find that red dress, Scully, I’m buying it and you’re wearing it and we’re going out on the town to make sure everyone sees you in it. There’ll be so many guys falling at your feet, you won’t know what to do.”

“So, I’ll just stand there and let them swoon?”

“And then you’ll come home with me.”

She felt the blush blooming across her chest and crawling up her face, “you need to go to sleep, Mulder. As both your doctor and your …” she hesitated without understanding why, partner seeming cold, friend seeming inadequate, anything other distinction making her blush even more, “you need to get some sleep, Mulder and so do I.” Standing quickly, squeaking chair legs against tile, “I should probably go. I’ll pick up some clothes for you and bring them back tomorrow when they release you, okay?”

She still hadn’t let go of his hand.

Odd.

In fact, her fingers were firmly joined with his, zippered closed, thumb stroking thumb.

Very odd.

“Hey, Scully,” tugging her hand so she moved towards him, she leaned across the bar of the bed once again.

“Yes?”

“Be with me tonight. Spring me from this place and take me home and hover and feed me meds and check my stitches and just … be with me.”

Another ‘oh, brother’ should have risen up her throat, fallen to his ears but instead, she leaned in even more, “let me go find a doctor.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&

There was finagling and promising and coercion to the highest levels but in the end, she helped him off the elevator and down the hall to his apartment, setting him on the bed, taking in his weary eyes, his pale face, “you look terrible.”

Not able to argue such a valid point, “could you find me something to wear, please? I feel like I’m about to die or at the very least, begin having hallucinations of pink elephants playing poker in the corner.”

Not about to dispute the obvious, pink elephants fairly likely at this point in their day, “can you sit up for a second or do you want to lay down while I find things?”

Hands firmly gripping mattress edge, “I’ve got it. Just don’t leave.”

She’d return to that statement later on but for now, “I’ll be back.”

At the dresser, she pulled out stuff for both of them, missing the Yosemite Sam shirt but happy with her find of ‘Sit on it, Potsie’ black, frayed glory. Soon, she was back beside him, gently pulling his shirt over his head, wincing along with him when she passed the collar over his bruise-darkening eye. Pants weren’t too difficult, Scully holding his arm for balance while he dropped scrubs and pulled up ratty sweatpants, “remind me not to follow any ghosts ships in the near future.”

“No.”

He smiled as best he could but most of his energy and being was wrapped up in desperate need to lay down, go to sleep, rid his head of the terrible pounding that had wedged itself behind his eyes, “did you bring drugs home with you?”

“Several. What color do you want?”

“Rainbow me up, please? My head feels like it’s going to explode.”

Drugs swallowed, Scully changed – he would comment on her shirt at some point in the evening – and after tucking him in, she turned out the light but came back to his side, “I’m going to go sleep out on the couch, okay? Do you need anything?”

Even through pain and wavering reality, “be with me, remember? The couch is too far.” Indicating over his shoulder, eyes already closing for longer and longer intervals, “I have plenty of room behind me, softest mattress in the place, I promise.”

She could seriously just wait two minutes then go out to the couch, he’d never know but Scully being Scully, especially tonight, especially now, especially here, “okay but if you kick me in your sleep, I’m kicking back.”

Slurred, sleepy, “I’ll try not to kiss you in your sleep, promise.”

Nearly correcting him, she instead checked the front door locks one more time, then, incremental debate later, folded back the covers opposite him, sheets cool, pillow shockingly comfortable. She’ll admit it, she may have let out a slight, happy, back of the throat groan when her head sank down into it.

This pillow may have to go the way of Yosemite.

&&&&&&&&&&

Never expecting to fall asleep so quickly, she had no idea she had until she found herself blinking, eyes rolling and lids sticky. Concept of time had disappeared, clock telling her it was after 2 am but mind firmly believing she’d only been asleep for a few minutes. Wondering what had woken her, she turned to her other side, coming face to face with Mulder, still asleep but hand twitching, searching.

He must have touched her back while he moved and taking his wandering fingers, she was surprised when he bought them to his lips, kissing her knuckles, “I should have kissed you again after you hit me.”

Wondering if he was still dreaming, “Mulder?”

His eyes opened suddenly, wide awake like she’d never seen him, “You saved the world and I should have kissed you again.”

“You kissed me?”

Smiling, his eyes closed, drifting back to dreams, “and I want to do it again.”

Still back on the last statement, “you kissed me?” He answered with a deep sigh, sleep capturing the conversation in limbo and driving her forward, 2 am a thing of both beauty and shadow, she maneuvered to get her lips to his, a light brush, a tentative touch, a fleeting taste, “I love you, too, Mulder.”

#nazis and thors hammer and red dresses #even a triangle comes full circle in the end #msr #txf fanfic #x-files fanfic #MulderNScully #My writing

164 notes · View notes

calumance · 4 years

Note

Home girl you’re gonna have to give us a part two 👀💕

Hi. 😊 So, you were the first one to ask me to do a part 2. I have like 17 other asks to do it, but I’m posting it on your ask because you were the first one. THIS BAD BOY IS LONG, like I probably could’ve made this a three part thing, but because I have sucked SO BAD at posting this week, imma just give it to you all at once. I genuinely hope the wait, and the read, were worth it. I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH. 😊😊😊😊😊 (the computer I’m on is so out of date that the smiley face emoji is the only one it knows.)

Here is part 1 for you lovelies ❤️

Calum pulled up in front of Ashton’s house and shut the car off. He leaned his head back and shut his eyes. He swallowed hard trying to keep his heart from shattering into a million pieces. Never in his entire life would he ever think to be unfaithful in a relationship, especially not this one. She is the love his life, the mother of his children. She has given him more than he could ever ask for. The tears started to build behind his eyelids as he lifted it and grabbed his bag from the passenger seat.

By the time he got to the door Ashton was already opening the door. Calum didn’t have the guts or the words to call Ashton to tell him he was on his way over to his house. Ashton’s eyebrows were pulled together and his mouth hung open with concern. “I heard your car, what’s going on?” Ashton saw the bag on Calum’s shoulder and knew whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

Calum pushed past Ashton, not looking him in the eyes, and only mumbled a cold “Nothing.” Calum kept walking through the house until he reached the guest bedroom that he had stayed in so many times before. He left the door open as he threw the bag in the bed and sat down next to it, his hands covering his face. Ashton appeared in the doorway and Calum shook his head, “We just need a few nights apart. I’ll only be here at night, that way I can still take care of Aiden and Logan.” Calum ran his hand across the back of his neck and sighed.

Ashton made his way into the room and sat down on the bed next to Calum. “It’s about those pictures, isn’t it?” Ashton asked while rubbing his hands together, avoiding all eye contact with Calum. Ashton has seen the pictures earlier in the day, to which he immediately told Calum about. Calum had gone home to talk to her about them, thinking she was going to understand and brush it off. That’s the type of person she usually is, never in their entire relationship has she been jealous.

Calum lowered his head as the tears started to flow again. He rolled his fingers into a fiat tight enough that some of his knuckles cracked. His head snapped up and he looked at Ashton, “I didn’t even know who she was, they just stuck her on me and started taking pictures.” Calum looked into Ashton’s eyes. Ashton was dead serious, barely any expression in his face. It’s how he looked when he saw his best friend falling apart at the seams. He had to be strong enough to keep Calum in one piece.

Ashton nodded and raised his eyebrows, “I know that, and you know that, and so does a lot of people who were around us. She wasn’t there, those people see you out without your wife and kids and fucking run with it.” Ashton looked at Calum. His head hung, his hands clasped together. A tear fell off his cheek and fell to the ground. His head bounced as he nodded at what Ashton was saying.

After a full minute of silence, Calum finally cleared his throat and found the words that had been burning inside his mind, “She told me I was lying to her,” he cringed remembering what she had said. “She said that I don’t find her attractive anymore and that I’m lying when I tell her I’ve never even thought about touching someone other than her.” Calum shrugged and looked over at Ashton, no words able to come out.

Ashton wrapped a single arm around Calum’s shoulders. “She was upset, you were upset. You two were made for each other, it why you have two beautiful kids together. Everything will be fine, stay here a few nights until you’re ready to go and talk to her and sort things out.” Calum nodded and Ashton patted his shoulders before pushing himself off the bed and leaving the room. Calum laid back on the bed and shut his eyes, unable to think about anything other than the woman at home sleeping by herself.

During the day, Calum would leave Ashton’s house to get home just in time to help get Aiden ready for school. He continued to put on a show like everything was fine, but the second she left to take Aiden to school, he would leave too, unless it was a day she had to work. If she had to work, he would stay and lock himself in his studio until the neighbor dropped Aiden off. They had an agreement with the neighbor to pick up Aiden after school two days a week. He would cater to his and Logan’s every need until they went to bed. Once they were in bed, he would leave without saying a word.

Calum woke up after the fourth night of staying at Ashton’s. His chest hurt today, he pressed his palm to his chest and cringed. He brushed it off and got out of bed and walked into the bathroom. After a quick shower, he headed home to help get Aiden and Logan ready for the day. The house was quiet, which meant he was early enough that the boys were still asleep. Calum sifted through the refrigerator to find things to make and pack into Aiden’s lunch. Logan’s day care always provided him with snacks until Mali-Koa picked him up in the afternoon.

Once Aiden’s lunch was packed, Calum ran a hand through his hair and made his way down the hallway to the boys’ bedroom. He gently roused the two sleeping boys and helped them start getting ready. For the corner of his eye, he watched her pass down the hallway. She moved as if she were a ghost. Calum pulled his eyes brows together and took a step towards the doorway, but a small voice stopped him, “Dad?” Calum stopped and turned toward Aiden. “Why has mom been so upset lately? Did something happen to make her so sad?” Aiden nervously toyed with his fingers.

Calum narrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head. He closed the space him and his son and squatted so he was at eye level with him. “What do you mean?” Calum reaches his hands up and ran them up and down Aiden’s little arms.

Aiden’s eyes became glossy as he looked into Calum’s eyes. Before speaking, he looks down at his hands and took a deep breath, “For the past two nights, after you and mom put us to bed, and you guys go into your room, I can hear mom start crying. She cries for a while before it is quiet again.” Aiden shrugged and looked into Calum’s eyes. “I just though since you and mom share a room, you would know what was wrong.”

Calum’s heart shattered into a million pieces. His chest started to burn so he stood up and put his hand over his chest. Aiden watched every movement Calum made. Before Calum gave away the shoe they had been putting on the past three days, he found the words, “It’s adult stuff, you’ll understand when you’re older. You just need to give mom some extra love right now, okay?” Aiden nodded and looked down at his hands. Calum ran his hand through Aiden’s hair and sighed, “Now go get dressed or you’re going to be late.” Aiden turned toward his closet to grab some clothes and Calum turned toward the empty hallway, still clutching his chest, which felt like it was caving in.

The house was silent, after she had taken Aiden to school, and Logan to daycare, Calum locked himself in his studio. It was nice to work in the silence, but it was also horrible because there was nothing to distract him from thinking about everything that’s happened. Calum closed his eyes and dropped his pen onto his notepad, the thoughts running around his head again. He used his thumb and pointer finger to rub his eyes. Just as he dropped his hand from his face, his phone vibrated. He picked it up, seeing a message from the neighbor, sent to both him and his wife. “I’m so sorry this is short notice, but I’m stuck at work and won’t be able to pick Aiden up. I’m sorry!” Calum waited for a few moments to see if she would respond. When she didn’t, he dropped everything and grabbed his keys to head to the school.

Calum arrived at the school a few minutes before school actually let out. He decided to head into the school and meet him outside the classroom. He walked with one hand in his pocket and the other running across his lips. The last time he smile a cigarette was right after they got together, but right now seemed like a great time to have one. Calum dropped his hand from his lips and shoved it into his pocket and looked up. As he looked up he noticed her car, and she was still sitting inside of it. Calum pulled his phone from his pocket to make sure he hadn’t missed a text from her saying she would pick him up. When he saw he hadn’t, he placed his phone back in his pocket and looked over at her car again.

Both of her hands were clutching the steering wheel. Her arms were locked straight and her head and leaning back. As she lifted her head and leaned forward, she buckled as if she were punched in the gut. A closer look told Calum she was crying, and crying hysterically. The sight made him feel like his chest had finally caved, he had never seen her cry like that, and it was all because of him. He took two steps closer to her car but remembered he needed to be outside the classroom when school got out so Aiden wouldn’t run around looking for the neighbor. As he continued to walk into the school, he replied to the neighbor’s message, “thanks for letting us know, I’m waiting outside his classroom right now.” As Calum waited for Aiden to get out of class he sent Mali-Koa a message, asking her to keep Logan for the night, and then sent one single message to his wife, “I’m going to drop Aiden off at Ashton’s, meet me at home.”

That’s exactly what Calum did, he drove Aiden to Ashton’s house and while Ashton was entertaining Aiden, Calum packed up his bag. Calum promised Aiden he would come back for him in the morning and then left. As Calum drove the few minutes home, he thought about what he wanted to say. He couldn’t decide if he was angry, or if he just wanted to pretend none of this happened. Would he even be able to be upset since she’s the one who is upset with him? All Calum knew was that he wanted to be able to sleep next to her again, hold her against him again, kiss her again. Just as he rounded the corner to the house, he sighed and ran his hand across his forehead. Her car was in the driveway and it made his stomach drop.

The house was eerily quiet; the silence made Calum’s hands tremble as he shut the door and looked around the house. There was a noise that resembled a sniffle from the kitchen. Calum slowly made his way through the house and into the kitchen. She was sitting at the table, a cup of tea between her hands. Her head hung slightly as she stared at the liquid in her cup, which was incredibly still. Calum figures she didn’t hear him come in when she didn’t turn to face him, but he was proven wrong when she suddenly asked, “Is Logan with your sister?” Her voice was dull and low, weak from the amount she has cried the past few days. It absolutely broke Calum’s heart.

Calum took a deep breath, “Yeah, I asked her to keep him for the night. Ashton is going to keep Aiden for the night too.” Calum made his way around to the other side of the table so he could sit across from her. She didn’t look at him until he was fully seated. Her eyes were glazed over, there was barely any shine to them. Her face was pale and her hair had lost most of its sheen. Calum’s breath hitched in his chest and he swallowed before looking away from her.

She nodded and tapped the edge of her cup with her thumbs. “Are you going to go back to Ashton’s tonight?” Calum looked at her again and pulled his eyebrows together. He never told her where he was staying. She rolled her eyes and looked out the window. “He’s your best friend. He’s the first person you run to with good or bad news. I just figured that’s where you went. I didn’t follow you or anything.”

She continued to stare out the window as Calum sat up and cleared his throat. “I’m not going back to Ashton’s tonight.” That caused her to look at him again, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. “I want to fight, I want to talk this out. I’d rather fight with you every single day for the rest of my life than be away from you for one more night.” That’s not what he expected he was going to say, but it was the truth.

Her face was expressionless, she barely even blinked. “Where do you want to start then?” She said while raising a single eyebrow, the rest of her body remaining still.

Calum leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. He clasped his hand together and nervously bounced his leg. “Why would you ever think I’d be unfaithful to you?” When he looked into her eyes, the tears were already forming, as if she knew that was the question he was going to ask first.

“You don’t look at me the way you used to.” She replied immediately. Her eyes dropped to her hands again and she raised her eyebrows in an attempt to stop the tears from falling. “You used to look at me as if I were the only living thing on the planet. I used to feel like even across the room that I was the only person you could see.” She used her pointer finger to wipe away a tear that had fallen. “Recently,” she shrugged and shook her head then looked up at Calum. “I feel like I’m just this blur every time you look at me. Granted, I haven’t been as confident as I usually am, but I guess that’s what happens after you have two kids.” The look on Calum’s face told her that he was at a loss for words, so she took the opportunity to continue, “When I saw those pictures, the insecurities that have been festering in my head exploded. She’s prettier and younger than I am, and probably hasn’t had two kids making every single part of her body look different.”

Calum finally found some words and managed to spit out, “But nothing happened. I don’t even know who she is.” He tried to keep going, but the words got caught behind the tightness in his chest. He sat back in his chair feeling defeated.

She nodded and looked down at her tea, “I know.” She swallowed feeling the sudden tension between her and Calum. “Sierra called me after you had left that first night. She told me she was standing by the guy who told her to touch you so he could sell the pictures and get money.” She shook her head and felt the tears start burning as they rolled down her cheek, “After that I wasn’t upset that it happened, I was upset that despite those pictures, this fight was bound to happen one way or another.” She leaned forward and narrowed her eyebrows, “Despite those pictures, I still don’t feel like I mean anything to you anymore, and that you’re not attracted to me anymore, and that you only stay here because of Aiden and Logan.” Calum swallowed, a horribly thick silence falling between them.

Her heart was beating hard enough that she could swear he could hear it. Her stomach twisted with nerves, waiting impatiently for him to say what he needs to say. Suddenly, he pushes his chair back, causing a squeal that makes her jump and scoot back herself. Calum rounds the table and kneels next to her, putting his hands on her knees and looking into her eyes. “I stay because you are the love of my life, I stay because you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on, I stay because you’re my best friend, I stay because I don’t see this life with anyone else, I stay because I fucking love you. I stay because I never plan on leaving, ever.” Her breathing becomes labored as he squeezed her knees in a unsuccessful effort to calm her down. “Do you still love me?”

That’s when she broke. The tears busted through her eyes and the son escaped her chest. Through the hysterical crying, she nodded hard enough to ensure Calum would know that she would never stop loving him. Calum reaches up and grabbed her face, wiping away every tear that fell down her face. He pulled himself off his knees and pressed his lips against hers. Her lips trembles against his, but she kissed him back with just as much passion. As if the same fire lit in their stomachs, the tears stopped and hands started searching each other’s bodies. Clothes were quickly discarded and they finally parted their lips, “Should we move to the bedroom?” She asked through heavy breaths.

Calum shook his head and started leaning back towards her lips, “No time, need you now.” His lips crashed against hers and he wrapped his arms under her legs and lifted her onto the table, the table that was going to need to be sanitized by the time they were done.

************

Tag list: @mantlereid @notinthesameguey @viiirg0 @wheniminouterspace @thinkofmehlgh @another-lonely-heart @limer-encia @itsmytimetoodream @babyoria @treatallwithkindness

143 notes · View notes

aroseandapen · 3 years

Text

{Don’t go asking to be a horror movie protagonist when you’re terrified of ghosts}

For the @badthingshappenbingo; prompt: caught in a storm

A sudden storm drives Kaito to seek shelter. Nothing unusual could ever happen in an abandoned house. Ghost AU.

Warnings: Past Suicide

Drizzle turned into downpour, with whipping winds throwing sheets of freezing water directly into his face. Kaito pulled the side of his jacket up as a shield, but it quickly soaked through. His eyes stung, bringing tears in defense of the painful wind.

He didn’t think he’d make it home like this.

Quickly he scanned the street, hoping for an overhang to huddle underneath until the worst of the storm passed. Miraculously, he saw a vacant house tucked between two others, the wind having blown the door open to flap against the elements like it was waving him in. Really, it would be rude of him not to take the invitation the gods offered up to him. Technically it might be trespassing, but what was the law of man against the powers that be.

He could hardly see anyway with how ferociously the wind kicked water up directly into his eyes. Surely no one would denounce him for popping into a house for shelter for an hour at most, especially when no one else was using it.

Squinting against the rain and wind, he jogged up the walkway, forcing the front door shut behind him and dragging the deadbolt into place so that the wind couldn’t blow it back open.

Immediate relief washed over him. The wood groaned and glass panes rattled under each gust that buffeted the side of the house, but it was safer and warmer compared to being outside. His clothes and hair dripped into the entryway. Too bad there probably weren’t any towels left in this vacant place; he could really use one right now.

The small entryway opened up into a large area, ornate stairs directly in front of him leading up to the next floor, double doors to the left and the right that were cracked open. A smaller door was tucked half out of sight by the stairs. He opened it, hoping that it was a closet that contained at least one bit of fabric he could use to dry off. Fortunately, it actually was a closet. Less fortunately, there was nothing inside.

Kaito sighed. Dammit. Well, beggars couldn’t be choosers, he supposed. He shrugged off his jacket and peeled off his shirt, hanging both over the handrail lining the stairs after wringing them out. His exposed chest left him shivering somewhat in the large drafty house, but it was better than dragging around soaking fabric that hung heavy over him the entire time. And while there was no hope of them drying before he left this place again, at least it might be a bit better by the time he had to put them back on.

He lingered by his hanging shirt and jacket for a moment to consider his next move. Nothing really to do now, he supposed, but to explore the house for a while, right?

First he swept the lower floor, peeking into wide rooms occupied by worn furniture--the odds and ends left behind by the final owner’s evacuation. A chair knocked over in one corner had spiders weaving their webs between the legs and the floor. The kitchen had a fold-up table leaning against the wall, but it’d been bent out of shape in such a way that Kaito wondered how the hell it’d stood on its side in the time since it’d been abandoned.

One room in particular was crammed wall to wall in junk, so that when he pushed the door, it would only open a couple inches before getting stuck. A storage room, evidently, but he couldn’t tell for what reason and why it’d been left behind. Unable to get in to sift through the stuff in the room, there was nothing of interest on the ground floor for him.

Kaito stepped back, hand on the door handle to close it. Just then the wind outside picked up, whistling through the tiny cracks in the house. The door slammed shut, no input from him.

He jumped back, heart rolling into his throat. A chill ran down his spine, hairs sticking up on the back of his neck. Probably just uneven air pressure from the wind, he figured, but that didn’t make it any less damn creepy. Like something lurking in the house didn’t want him in that room.

Which was dumb. Silly. Nothing--nobody--was in the house but Kaito. Maybe a homeless guy or two, although he hadn’t seen evidence that anyone had been in this place recently, but still nothing supernatural.

Yeah. He had goosebumps now for absolutely no reason.

And for no reason at all, he sped-walked down the hallway to return to the staircase. His skin prickled with his back to the door, but he refused to look back. As he lingered by his hanging clothes, he was suddenly reminded of the many scary movies that took place in an abandoned house in the middle of a storm.

Tree branches slapped against the side of the house, screeching along the glass window panes. He jumped.

“Dammit. Get yourself together, man,” he grumbled, rubbing the back of his head. Something about the sound of his own voice filling the void of the house made him feel a bit more secure. Enough so that he could finally take the next step, heading up the stairs to check out the top floor of the house.

He opened up the first room, and nearly slammed the door shut again in pure shock. It was a child’s room, practically untouched. Dust covered every inch of furniture--a small bed with the corners still tucked under the mattress, a desk, a tiny chest in the corner. He couldn’t imagine how it was still there, why it’d been left behind. His heart wrenched with dread. Nothing good could come from this room, left behind to be forgotten with the rest of the house empty.

Slowly, he closed the door. It didn’t feel right to wander into some kid’s room, even if it had been abandoned for however long. This adventure felt less fun by the room. He moved onto the next door down, dragging his feet heavily across the floor.

He opened the door, noticed two things: the room was almost a perfect mirror of the previous, and a torn racoon plush was slumped against the leg of the bed.

A face popped in front of his eyes.

Kaito screamed.

He pinwheeled his arms and scuttled back. His head slammed into the wall in his rush to escape. The face briefly retreated, then surged forward again.

“Wait, you--.”

A person, it was a fucking person speaking to him, transparent and floating inches above the ground. A ghost, right in front of him.

Kaito ducked and twisted his body. He dug his toes into the floor and sprinted down the hall for the stairs. Even without looking behind him, he could sense the ghost in hot pursuit. Outside the wind howled, rain pelting the house.

He’d take a full hurricane, plus an earthquake, before he dealt with a ghost.

“Don’t!” it called, voice thin and bouncing off the walls as if the sound, too, was chasing him.

Flying down the stairs, he full-body slammed into the front door so hard that he bounced off it. He staggered back, but he didn’t bother to right himself before he threw himself at it again. The knob turned easily and he yanked on it.

The door creaked and clattered in the frame, but did not open. Kaito choked on his heart.

“Fuck, no, come on, come on!”

He pushed and pulled, jerking the door to force it open. No matter what he did, though, it wouldn’t budge. Was it the storm? The ghostly figure whistling down the stairs after him now? Was he trapped in this abandoned house he’d recklessly taken shelter in?

“Fuck!” The door was no good. His eyes darted along the wall, searching for an alternate route. A screech that hurt his ears and teeth drew his attention over to where the branches outside scraped against the window. The window!

He made a mad dash for it, bulldozing ahead with all intentions of crashing out through it. A misstep, though, twisted his ankle and brought him tumbling to the floor. His head cracked against the floorboards and stars burst in his vision. He hissed in pain, the room spinning around him. Stunned, he could barely move when the half-there figure once again swam into view.

“A-are you ok? Oh no, please don’t be…” The face grimaced. His eyes darted around, looking for something. Then, as if realizing he could do nothing even if he found what he was looking for, regret filled the ghostly features. “Take it easy ok? Hang in there.”

Kaito blinked rapidly. His head throbbed with each bat of his lashes. “Gh…” He brought a hand to his forehead. “What the hell… are you?”

Hurt flooded his expression. “I’m…” Face pinched, he looked away and crossed his arms. Something was vaguely familiar about his appearance, especially when he posed like that. “I mean… you can tell, can’t you? That’s why you...”

That was why he ran.

“...you got hurt.”

“Wait, what?” Despite the ghost’s urgings for him to take it easy, Kaito forced himself to sit up. The ghost, as if startled, drew chillingly close to him, hands hovering over Kaito’s shoulder. When he flinched, the ghost withdrew. He blew out a relieved sigh. “Of course I got hurt. You were chasing me.”

“I wasn’t.” The ghost pouted. “You were just running…” His face twitched uncomfortably. “Ok I guess that is chasing, but… I wasn’t gonna do anything.”

“You locked me in!” Kaito protested with a burst of anger. He staggered to his feet. “You made the door jam shut, how the hell am I supposed to take that?!”

A flash of irritation twisted the ghost’s expression. “I didn’t! You’re the one who locked the door when you came in here!”

The faint memory of sliding the deadbolt to keep the door from blowing back open scratched the back of his mind. The angry fire in Kaito’s gut immediately extinguished. “Oh… right.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Who’re you supposed to be anyway? What do you want with me?”

“I’m Kurochi; I don’t want anything with you. You’re the one who came into my house. Or… the house I grew up in, I guess… So who are you?” Kurochi ended with a question, his tone defensive.

“Kaito. It’s raining outside and this place was abandoned, so…” He shrugged. For some reason he felt guilty, but he didn’t know why he should. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t expect the place to be literally haunted by some kid. “How old are you?”

He shrugged. “Don’t know, probably same age as you? It’s been… a long time.”

“So when did you...?” he blurted out the question, regretting it as soon as the words left his mouth. He was asking about an actual person’s death here; he wouldn’t be surprised if Kurochi grew furious because of it.

The ghost didn’t. His face did fall, however, eyes dropping to the floor. “I… died when I was twelve. So… I don’t know. It’s been years since then, though.”

“You don’t look twelve.” Even if Kurochi would have been the same age as him, if he died at such a young age he should have looked the part. Although Kurochi did have a young face, it wasn’t as if he looked like a child.

Kurochi only shrugged. “I don’t really know what I look like. Mirrors don’t exactly work when you’re…” He gestured toward his incorporeal body. “I have a twin brother, though. Maybe I look like he does now.”

Suddenly Kaito realized just why Kurochi had looked so familiar to him before. “Wait! I think I know… what’s your full name?”

“Oshi…” Kurochi started, then stopped. He looked physically pained before he shook his head and quickly changed the name he was about to give. “Ouma. That was my mother’s family name, that’s what… we wanted before…”

Kaito’s eyes bugged. The pieces fit too well to be a coincidence.

“Wait, was your brother named Kokichi?” Kaito could see his classmate in the ghost’s (transparent) features. It wasn’t exact, but the resemblance was enough to be uncanny.

He’d never seen quite a mixture of shock, hope, and horror in a person before like he saw in Kurochi’s face the moment the question left his lips. A tremor ran through Kurochi; he pulled in so close to Kaito that he could feel his own body heat being sapped from him by the chill of Kurochi’s form. Kaito backed up, unnerved and trying to get some space, but Kurochi only closed it again.

“Yes! You’ve seen him? Is he ok? He’s ok, right? He’s safe? Right?”

The anxious questions tumbled out in a rush. Kurochi seemed to shimmer, the anticipation practically leaking out of his body. Part of Kaito regretted saying anything, but that was overwritten by the overwhelming relief that he had some good news to tell.

“Yes. He’s ok. A little shit sometimes, but he’s good as far as I can tell.” Which probably wasn’t saying much; Kaito had the feeling that Kokichi hid a great deal beneath his wide grin and clowning behavior. It was blatant now, considering he’d never heard of a twin brother who’d died when he was twelve. “We’re classmates now.”

Kurochi melted to the floor, almost passing through it as he sunk in his deep relief. “He’s safe… he’s good, thank god…”

He held a hand over his chest, where his heart would be if he still had one.

“What I wouldn’t give to see him again…”

Well, that was a wish well within Kaito’s ability to grant. “Do you want to? I can bring him here for you.”

“No! No, no, no, don’t you dare!” Kurochi shrieked, making Kaito jump and fumble back.

The vehement reaction to the negative shocked Kaito. “What? Why not? You just said you wanted to see him, right?”

Tremors ran through Kurochi. He hunched his shoulders, tucking his chin down as if to hide himself from Kaito’s gaze. With a tiny, quick movement, he shook his head and said, “I… don’t want to put that burden on him. If he’s started to get over my death, I want it to stay that way. If you brought him here… I don’t think he even will move on.” His bottom lip trembled; Kurochi closed his eyes. “I can’t handle that. I already left him behind, I can’t… I can’t…”

Despite the innate fear he had of the ghost, the pathetic wobble of Kurochi’s voice pulled on Kaito’s heartstrings. He stepped forward, raising a hand as if to rest it comfortingly on his shoulder. Just before he made contact, he remembered that it wasn’t possible to touch him, and he quickly pulled his hand away. Trying and failing to touch Kurochi would probably only make the ghost feel worse. “Hey, it’s not your fault you died…”

Big watery eyes met his, but the tears never fell. “It is… I… I… when we were twelve, I just couldn’t…”

Shame forced Kurochi’s gaze back down and he trailed off without explaining. He didn’t need to, Kaito understood without him being explicit about it. Kaito swallowed hard.

“For what it’s worth… I’m sorry you felt that way. That the only way to escape whatever the hell you went through was… that. I know I just met you, and tried to run away from you and all, but… no kid deserves to feel that way. No one does,” he said, solemnity muting his tone.

Kurochi near-smiled at his heartfelt sympathy. It didn’t quite lift his expression, but there was something appreciative deep in those eyes. “Thanks. I just… wish I never put Kokichi through that though. I… ruined everything.”

No, that wasn’t his fault. Kaito didn’t know much about his--and by extension, Kokichi’s--childhood, but regardless, it wasn’t a twelve-year-old’s fault if he was so overwhelmed by the pain in his life that he killed himself. Boiling heat stirred in his chest, anger at the injustice rising on Kurochi’s behalf. He was just a child. He deserved so much better than life had given him back then--up until now, too, living as a ghost alone in this abandoned house, not a soul to talk to.

Kaito decided then: he would give him that. While he couldn’t fix the past, he could be that bond Kurochi needed to help him work through what happened to him. He couldn’t bring him back to life, but he could help Kurochi move on. Whatever ‘moving on’ meant for a ghost.

“You didn’t ruin shit--and I’ll show you, too! After this storm passes… I’ll be back tomorrow! And probably the day after that, or next week even! And the week after too!”

Kurochi stared, bemused. And yet--though perhaps it was wishful thinking on his part--Kaito thought he saw something hopeful sparking deep in those hollow eyes. “You’ll… but why?”

“To hang out with you, what else?”

Kurochi choked--or maybe he snorted--shaking his head hard. “No I get that, but… why?”

“Because…” Kaito planted his fists on his hips. “...everyone deserves at least someone at their side, right? And if you don’t want me telling Kokichi about you, I’ll just have to keep you company myself then!”

#kairochi #kaito momota #kurochi ouma #badthingshappenbingo #danganronpa v3 #drv3 #Drabble.#prompt: caught in a storm #ghost au #this one is gonna be a two parter baybee #with a different prompt in the next part tbh

21 notes · View notes

bbmyungho · 4 years

Text

Blank - Jeno

genre: angst, fluff, soulmate!au, highschool!au

idol/group: Jeno (NCT), NCT dream mention

"Um, excuse me, would you happen to know where Mr. Kwon's room is?" Jeno turned to see a girl dressed in a baby blue cotton dress and a long cream-colored cardigan, long black hair flowing prettily down her shoulders and back and a cute pair of round glasses covering her deep brown eyes.

"Uh, no, I don't. I can take you to the counselor's office, though? Surely they have a map or someone to walk you there." He offered sheepishly.

"Oh, yeah, that would be great." She smiled, gesturing for Jeno to lead the way as he closed his locker in defeat.

Where are you?

After dropping his companion (Eva) off at the office, he made his way to his next class, his mind once again accompanying his eyes on their short-lived journey to his wrist. His pale, blank wrist.

You see, everyone has a tattoo, from the time that they're born, of the first words their soulmate will ever speak to them. That is, everyone except for Jeno. He was born blank, and he'd remained so ever since. From all of the research he'd done, he figured he just didn't have a soulmate, plain and simple. The only cases he'd ever found of blanks were those who didn't have a soulmate, or maybe their soulmate had died. Still, he couldn't help hoping that, one day, just a little, tiny, faint scribble would find its way to his wrist.

"Maybe it's for the best. Or maybe I'm just delusional." He muttered, rubbing his wrist solemnly.

All of a sudden, he felt a heavy weight hit him from the side, an arm wrapping around his shoulder and pulling him close to the other party.

"Heya buddy, how'ya doin' on this fine Thursday afternoon?" Jeno's best friend, Jaemin, greeted rather quickly, a big smile plastered on his bright face.

"Hey, Jaem, I'm good. I assume the same goes for you?" He questioned, playfully shoving his friend off of his side.

"Incredible. The sun is shining, Mrs. Kim's not here, and I got us some snacks lined up for our study date tonight." He beamed, wrapping his arm around Jeno's shoulder once again and pulling him impossibly closer than before.

"Good for you, Jaem. What kinda snacks?" Jeno asked, pulling his jacket sleeve back down to cover his wrist as they made their way to their next period.

"All your favorites: chocolates, sour gummies, and I asked my mom if we could go get ramen afterwards." He smiled proudly.

"Thanks, Jaem. Can't wait."

"Mooooooommm! Your favorite child's home!!" Jaemin called, plopping his bag down next to the kitchen table as he announced his presence in his family home.

"Jeno!!" She exclaimed, playfully pushing past her biological child and hugging the other boy standing shyly next to his place at the table. "Oh, it's been so long!!" She cooed, cradling the boy's head.

"Hi, Mrs. Na." Jeno chuckled, smiling at Jaemin and giving his mom a side hug before scooting his chair from under the table.

Jaemin's family was basically Jeno's at this point, and vice versa, given the boys' closeness since childhood: if Jaemin wasn't at Jeno's house, then Jeno was at his. They were invited to every family function on each side, Christmases and family members' birthdays included, and every interaction was so natural from such an early age; Jaemin used to joke all the time that he and Jeno were actually soulmates, despite his wrist actually having words tattooed on it.

"Okay, Jen, ready to get started?" Jaemin asked, taking his seat after receiving a kiss on the head from his mother before she disappeared back into the rest of the house.

"Ready."

"Bro, hurry up and pack your stuff up, I'm hungry~" Jaemin whined, pouting as Jeno placed his books and papers carefully into his bag.

"I'm hungry too, Jaem, especially since someone ate the majority of the snacks he bought for us to share." Jeno said with a pointed look, zipping his bag shut and meeting his sullen friend at the door.

“I’m a growing boy, I need to eat a lot.” Jaemin pouted, rubbing his tummy pitifully.

Jeno just scoffed and smacked the side of his friend’s head playfully, opening the door for them and following Jaemin out into the cool afternoon air, finally in search of some ramen.

“Thank you, sir, please come again!” Renjun beamed as the last customer in line left, finally allowing him to lean on the counter and take a quick scan of the small convenience store he was currently working at. Luckily, just as Renjun was about to get bored restocking gum and chocolate bars, his friend and co-worker, y/n, came around from the shelves with a large smile on their face.

“Hey, where ya been?” He asked, smiling as they approached.

‘Stocking the aisles, cleaning the bathrooms. Trying to keep busy.’ They signed, smile widening before they tossed a pack of Renjun’s favorite chips on the counter. ‘And, I got you a snack; just so happened to come “punctured in the box.”’ They said, winking at him as they made their way around the counter and hopped up to take a seat. ‘I already slipped some money to Mr. Song.’

Renjun smiled gratefully at his friend, opening the chip bag and handing one to them before taking one for himself. While they waited for someone to enter the store, the two sat up at the counter, y/n every once in a while holding up something from nearby for Renjun to sign to them or playing tic-tac-toe on receipt papers. It was a typical slow day, but neither of the friends was complaining as they hoped that their manager would decide to close the store just five minutes earlier than usual.

‘Oh, I almost forgot, I need to wipe down and restock the cooler. Be right back.’ y/n nudged Renjun’s shoulder and disappeared into the back to take care of the maintenance before the boy could even get a word out.

He wouldn’t have had much to say anyways, because, almost as soon as they left, the bell above the door rang signalling the arrival of new customers.

“Hey, Renjun!” He heard someone call.

“Jaemin! Jeno! Hey, how’s it going?” He greeted the two walking in, Jaemin practically skipping to the counter with Jeno in tow behind him. “What brings you here?”

“Ramen. Got any good kinds?”

“I mean, we just have cup noodles and stuff in stock, but I could slip you some sauce packets or something from the break room to spice it up.” The boy offered, smiling.

“That would be great, thanks Jun.” Jeno thanked him, turning to the aisle behind him to sift through ramen flavors and snacks for him and his friend.

“Hey dude, you got the drinks and stuff? I’m gonna go ahead and put my stuff on the counter, I gotta use the bathroom real quick.” Jaemin said. Jeno just nodded, not paying the boy much mind at all as he continued to debate whether he wanted chicken or shrimp flavored ramen.

When he’d made his choice, he followed the sound of dull buzzing back to the drink coolers, deep in thought about what he was in the mood to drink that day, making a sharp turn around the back end of the aisle. Feeling a weight hit his chest, snapping out of his thoughts at the sound of bottles hitting the ground and rolling haphazardly every which way.

“I’m so sorry, here, I got it. Oh my God.” Jeno swiftly apologized, chasing a few bottles down the nearest aisle and scooping them up into his arms, hardly paying any mind to the person frantically trying to collect the bottles nearest to them on the floor. However, as soon as he turned around, the entire store went still. They were staring at him as if they’d seen a ghost, clutching their wrist, the bottles around them laying long forgotten. Jeno’s breath got caught in his throat at the sight of them, his mind straying to his own wrist. His thoughts wandered so intently from what had just happened that he actually almost forgot about the situation at hand, just about releasing the bottles from his arms. Almost.

And then he remembered.

Surely he didn’t have a soulmate.

The figure at the end of the aisle stood, approaching Jeno slowly, hand wandering towards his own wrists. The boy wanted to step away, tell them that he wasn’t it, but he felt like he couldn’t.

He dropped the bottles when they took his wrists in their hands and went to study them, a bright smile blooming on their face as he stared on in awe. Before he could register what they were doing, they whipped out their phone from their back pocket, typing something out with shaking hands before turning the note for him to read.

‘Do you know sign?’

Jeno looked up, eyes wide, studying the person’s face. He shook his head slightly, a mixture of emotions washing over him. Why’d I never learn?

‘That’s okay, I’m a fast typer :)’ They typed out in reply. And below that: ‘Hi, I’m y/n. It’s very nice to meet you.’

183 notes · View notes

squeeneyart · 4 years

Text

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 15

AO3

Beta reader as always is @thesnadger!

Everyone has some questions.

It’s been a long week.

“No! No, this isn’t okay!” Martin paced a few feet from the others.

Saha frowned. “We thought saying something might mess with how things worked normally-”

“So that makes it okay to not tell me at all? I could’ve disappeared completely!” Martin turned and pointed at Tim. “And you tricked me into doing it with all the ‘oh, aren’t you supposed to clean’ talk!”

Tim took a step back. “I thought we could pull you back before anything happened. You were walking slowly, but it all just-”

“Oh, yes, that makes me feel much better!”

Tim winced. Out of the three, guilt was the most plain on his face. “I’m sorry.”

“It was my idea,” Sasha interjected. “I convinced them this was the best way to get results in the time crunch we have. And I still think it was, for what it’s worth.”

Martin looked away from her, crossing his arms. “Good to know where we stand, then. Glad I could be a data point for you.”

Back by the couch, Jon said, “This is to help you. We had no intention of letting harm come to you-”

“Who said it didn’t?!”

For a minute the others said nothing. Martin filled the silence with large, shuddering breaths. That was a thought, wasn’t it?

Eventually, Jon rubbed the back of his hand and asked, “Are you… do you feel any different?”

“How should I know? Apparently this has been going on every week for months.” The final break in his voice was horribly audible. Martin laughed, dragging a hand down his face.

Months. How much time was wiped from his memory? Where had he been going? Were there other places he would’ve disappeared to if they hadn’t stopped him midway? God, his skull was splitting itself in two.

“You should sit back down.” Jon placed a hand on top of the couch, his brows knit together. “You’re right. We should have told you beforehand.”

Martin saw Jon’s sorry face and faltered despite himself. Still, he glowered. “Yeah. You should have.” Glancing at the other two, he retook his place on the couch and threaded his fingers together.

Sasha sighed. “I just thought it would be our last shot at finding something and getting more time. You need this figured out more than any of us.”

“Very convenient for you, then,” Martin spat, leaning his elbows onto his knees. He looked down at the scuffs on his boots. “I get it. It’s not okay, but I get it. Now I know… something?”

“We know more, certainly, though I can’t say it’s all that much.” Jon leaned back against his arm of the couch. “One moment you were walking up the steps, but then instead of turning you walked straight into the wall. Ten minutes pass, you come out and continue up as if you hadn’t noticed anything.”

“Which I didn’t, because I have no memory of any of it.” Martin rested his chin on his fist. “God, ten minutes.”

“You’re telling us,” Tim said, taking the other couch arm. “Listen, don’t think we weren’t freaking out the whole time.”

Martin snorted disdainfully. “Great. Clearly I’m in safe hands.”

“Hey, we really did try, but the wall was solid just as you went through it.” Sasha shoved her hands into her coat pockets. “My idea just needed more time for workshopping, time we don’t have.”

“Well, if this doesn’t get your boss invested, he definitely has something else going on,” Martin said. “Impossible spaces with invisible entrances that lure people in for a weekly cleaning can’t be that common.”

“You’d be surprised at how mundane impossible rooms can feel.” Jon tapped his knee. “But the lack of intent or memory on your part is too much to ignore, even if we leave out the, ah, contractual obligations.”

Martin accepted this with a tired nod. “Okay, so, what next? Do I just… I’m not going to have to try and go back in, am I?”

“Oh no, absolutely not,” Tim said. “That’s for later, when we hopefully have more time and resources. Trying to mess with the… the normal processes of this place, that’s something we aren’t going to try yet. Observation first, then theorizing, etcetera.”

Sasha hummed in agreement. “But we did discuss Naomi’s message before we came in today, and we all agreed that with her testimony it would be less of a risk to try the panel. With everyone present of course.”

Martin perked up. “Wait, really? Tim, you’re okay with this?”

“Not quite the word, but I’m leaning much more toward the ‘trapped person’ theory than my mimic idea. At the very least, I think…” Tim seemed to struggle for words, then set his jaw. “I think Naomi needs the truth.”

“The plan is to minimize the time spent communing with it,” Jon said, gathering his notes. “The yes-or-no method was a good start. We’ll see if it retained the echoed words and work from there, using questions we prepared ahead of time.”

Sasha chimed in. “We think alternating speakers will keep any side effects from getting to one person too quickly. There are also a few words we might attempt to, well, feed it, if necessary for communication.”

They continued half-explaining, half-talking to themselves. Martin got the impression that they were attempting to keep him present, as if zoning out was even an option for him anymore.

Soon enough, Jon’s hand was on the panel. Tim stood nearby and alternated between crossing his arms and flipping a pencil between his fingers. Sasha sat waiting in a chair with an old handheld camera (“Can’t put it on mobile recordings. Only ancient techniques allowed for this stuff”). Through the viewer, Jon and Tim were just in frame with the panel in the center.

Martin didn’t know what to do with himself and chose to keep his hands in his pockets and stand by Sasha.

“Let’s hope they wake up faster this time.” Jon waited for Sasha’s nod, then twisted the dial. A moment passed in the silence, and then-

“HELP?” Martin’s voice boomed, the edges of it rough and distorted, morphing the question into an unbearable scream. No one answered, the overwhelming sound bouncing around them with such force as to make Martin’s eardrums want to burst.

Again, as the reverberations began to wane, “PLEASE?”

Just as Martin could feel another boom coming, Jon gripped the panel and shouted, “Can you hear us?!”

And with that, no other outburst came. Jon’s voice echoed in that strange, elongated way until there was nothing left but the breaths Martin refused to release.

In Martin’s more true-to-life tone came a simple, “Yes.”

“Much better,” Jon gasped out. He straightened, making a show of brushing himself off. “We can get on with things, then, if you don’t mind.”

Picking up his notepad, Jon began, “We are researchers investigating on behalf of the current lighthouse employee with whom you recently made contact with. We believe we know your identity, but we would like to confirm some personal information as a precaution. Is that amenable?”

As they waited, Tim and Sasha composed themselves. Between this and Jon’s calm demeanor, Martin suddenly felt very silly about how quickly his conversation had spiraled into panic and confusion.

Actually, no, being stuffy and professional at a possible ghost was silly. Incredibly so, and the longer Martin watched the harder it became not to interrupt the process with snickering. Jon especially was making such a bold attempt to not only sound but look serious to a person who couldn’t see him.

“Yes.” Martin chose to believe the being was just as dumbfounded by how this was going so far.

“Excellent.” Jon then began to list numbers 0 to 9 in order, allowing each one to be fully absorbed by the lighthouse walls. “If you’ve got all that, can you please tell me the number of your mobile phone?”

Sure enough, Jon’s voice recited a series of numbers, familiar enough by now that Martin was convinced after only the second digit.

Tim slumped, though whether in relief or something else Martin couldn’t tell. “Well, sorry for making you wait, but you can’t judge us for being careful. We can’t talk for long periods of time for safety reasons, but we’ll try to get a lot out of this first go.”

Tim sifted through some of his notes as his echo faded. “Your vocabulary is limited, so for now we’ll stick to yes and no. First: are you in a location that can be described using words?”

“Yes. Quiet.”

“Okay.” Tim scratched the answer down. “So the place is quiet. Can you tell where we’re coming in from?”

There was a longer pause. “No. From? Up. Downstairs? Outside? Here.”

Sasha clicked her tongue. “Rules out a more physical location. Not surprising. As far as you can tell, do you have a physical body?”

“Half.” A moment, then quickly, “Now. Yes. From? This.”

Martin leaned back, his voice falling to a whisper. “He doesn’t mean like… this, does he?”

“If talking helps give him corporeality, it’s a good sign that he’s telling us up front,” Tim replied, his reassuring tone not quite matching the look on his face.

Martin spoke up, unable to stop himself. “Hi? Um, sorry for leaving you like that, but I’m not really a professional at this? Anyway, earlier today I learned that when I go upstairs for cleaning I unknowingly walk into a secret room? Do you know anything about that?”

“Yes. No. No. Me. Worry. Then?” After a few seconds, the thought continued, “No. Me. No. Me. Okay? NO. ME.”

From across the room, Tim dropped his pencil, letting it roll until it hit the wall. “He’s-”

“Yes, I understood,” Jon said, tapping his foot with a new energy. “You mean Naomi.”

“Yes. Naomi. Naomi. Okay? Worry?”

“Well, yeah, of course she’s worried!” Tim half-laughed out. “I mean, yes, she’s okay. We got a message from her yesterday. She’s the reason we ended up talking to you.”

“Okay.” The being who was almost certainly Evan Lukas paused. “Okay. Questions?”

The shift in mood caught Martin off-guard. Jon had started to pace. Sasha was scribbling something down with her free hand. Tim had changed gears entirely, scooping his pencil off the floor and flashing Martin a thumbs up.

It (probably, definitely) wasn’t a monster according to the professionals. This wasn’t part of the horror house that was his workplace. They were doing something.

Sasha remained seated, keeping the camera as steady as she could while flipping through her own notes. “Okay, so. Thank you for offering up extra confirmation. Back to a previous topic, the place on the stairs. Naomi mentioned experiencing the moment you went in. Did you ever attempt to go in with any sort of recording device?”

“No. Here. Before? Think. It.”

“Okay, safe to assume that’s all you know about that part. Would you say you ended up wherever you are by accident?”

“No.”

Martin squeezed his eyes shut. He had assumed as much, partially to take comfort in Evan’s fate not being a random happenstance of bizarre construction that could happen to him, but-

“Someone did this to you.” Sasha continued.

“Yes.”

Before responding, Sasha lowered the camera and switched it off. “Your family did this. I assume it was Peter.” The final word sank into the quiet.

“PETER.”

Everyone covered their ears as Sasha’s voice was thrown back, twisted and loud and furious. The table shook, papers scattering off its surface in the shockwave. Jon stumbled away from the panel and tripped backwards onto the floor. Shaking off the buzzing in his head, Martin hurried over to help him to his feet, Tim joining him a moment later.

Sasha walked to the panel and placed a hand on the dial. “Look, Evan? We will help you, but if you keep doing that we’re going to shut the channel off.”

“...From? Here?”

“Yes, that’s the plan. But you yelling is much louder for us and gets you nowhere. Save it for when you have someone worthwhile to scream at. Understand?”

“Soon. Please?” Martin’s voice implored, disjointed and quiet.

After being pulled to his feet, Jon legitimately brushed himself off and fixed his tie. “I’m not sure if time means much where you are, but yes. We will help you as soon as we can.”

“But,” Tim said, rubbing his temple. “We’ll probably need to break for now. Even without the shouting, something about this place messes with your head, and talking to you is no exception.”

As Tim spoke, Martin finally paid attention to the stabbing pain behind his eyes. “Ah, right, I forgot this was part of it.”

Predictably, Jon and Sasha just looked at the other two with concern. Jon cleared his throat. “Yes, perhaps now that we have a baseline of communication, it would be good for all of us to think about next steps.”

Tim nodded. “Evan? We’re going to turn the dial off for a while so the echoes don’t break our skulls open. Sit tight, and we’ll be back soon to cover what you remember, all right?”

“...Okay.”

And Tim turned the dial.

After all the excitement and goings-on, it was only ten in the morning by the time they made it downstairs.

For the sake of a complete observation, Martin finished his normal janitorial duties. The air was thick with tension as the others kept watch for changes in his demeanor or direction, but nothing happened. Before long he was stowing his supplies into the closet downstairs and collapsing onto his desk.

Tim leaned against the table. “If it makes you feel any better, we won’t tell if you slack off.”

“Yes, you’re all very good at not telling people things.”

“Hey, from now on it’s full disclosure. I promise, I’ll never let Sasha convince me of anything ever again.”

Sasha rolled her eyes and looked past Tim from the far end of the table. “I am sorry, whether or not you believe me. If something like that comes up again, we’ll find a way to handle it differently. But like you said, now you know.”

“Yeah. Now I know.”

Across from Tim, Jon sat at his laptop quietly typing away as the conversation unfolded around him. There was a twinge of irritation at the back of Martin’s mind, but his head was killing him and, well, there were more important things for all of them to be thinking about.

The numbers swam in front of Martin and he pushed the paperwork aside, folding his arms under his head. He probably wasn’t going to have his job much longer.

“So, once your day is about done and the headaches clear, we’ll check in with Evan and see if the sky is messed up. Two-for-one,” Tim said with little enthusiasm. “My bet is we’ll look out the window and see Simon Fairchild falling past us like a screaming ragdoll.”

At some point, Martin did just fall asleep at his desk. Every once in a while, he would wake up to see another hour had passed with the three researchers still seated at the table. He managed to stay up long enough to eat his lunch around noon, but after that he was out like a light. His cohorts may have been used to the sort of hours and excitement of the past week, but there never seemed to be enough sleep for him.

They were nice enough to leave him undisturbed.

“Sorry, let me see. You went to work that day. Peter was there, and at some point he took you upstairs for some reason?” Sasha said, writing something down.

“Yes. He. Needed. Something.” The mix of voices had an almost computer-like quality after a while now that they’d started getting proper sentences.

They’d been working for a bit, trying to fill in some word gaps while probing Evan’s memory. Martin and Tim sat on the couch, facing purposefully away from the windows. Sasha was back in her chair, while Jon stood nearby and kept an eye on the outside.

Martin’s shift had ended about ten minutes before. Apparently whatever it was the woman had alluded to, it was meant to be happening ‘later today’, but both up- and downstairs so far had been… nothing. The same gloomy sky down below, the same bright expanse up above. It was as normal as things could’ve been.

“And what was it he needed?”

“He. Needed. Me. Working. Upstairs? Something. Off. Smug. Bastard.”

“God, he is.” Martin chuckled. Did Evan count as a coworker? This felt like a coworker thing to talk about.

Sasha tapped her pen to paper. “Did he say anything else once you actually went upstairs? Anything about plans or reasoning?”

“Family? Disappointed. Normal. Stuff.”

“And then what happened? Were you pushed into something? Did you see anything before things changed?”

“No. Smug. Talking. Then. Here.”

“Were you facing the windows, or toward the panel?”

“Windows. Not. See. Panel.”

Martin would have to get home, soon. Should he have been running home the moment he had the chance to make sure his mother was all right? What if this thing happened while he was still at work? He should’ve called earlier that day, now that he was thinking about it, but now it was too late. He wasn’t about to walk downstairs alone for some privacy.

Would asking the others to come home with him after this be weird? Yes, that would be weird. He could text Tim if there was a problem. If it was big enough of an event, them being around wouldn’t make much of a difference anyway.

Would a timetable have been so terrible? A nice ‘Simon said look at the sky around noon-ish’?

As Tim and Sasha alternated with questions, Jon kept glancing out the window and clenching his jaw. Even if Martin was still miffed about that morning, the sight made his stomach twist in sympathy.

If Simon had some sort of plan, Martin wished he would get it over with already.

#tma #the magnus archives #breathe in the salt #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #timothy stoker #peter lukas #evan lukas #fanfic #au fanfic #selkie au #jonmartin

24 notes · View notes

unnecessaryadversaries · 4 years

Text

LOVE & DEATH [Alucard | Adrian Tepes X Death] Ch. 8

Summary: Since Trevor and Sypha's departure, Alucard has endured terrible loneliness and grief. Despite becoming known as the "Guardian Angel" — defender of Wallachia, and involving himself with witches, he believes it is his fate to suffer alone forever. One night, his world is turned upside down when the castle is visited by Mistress, the incarnation of Death. Each being the only remnant of what Dracula and Lisa have left behind, Alucard and Mistress Death revisit ghosts of their past, as they try to find solace amongst one another, and face the looming threats ahead.

(A/N: In case you were curious, Alucard is 6'2"; Mistress Death is 6'8"; and Itzhak is 7'3". So we've got a smol, a tol, and a very tol!)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The kitchen was warm when Alucard walked into it, almost to the point of being stuffy, and the odor of burning wafted through the air. Despite this, his eyes widened slightly in awe as he looked overhead at the many candles hovering in midair, softening the space with a peaceful, orangish glow. Which was accented by the blue moonlight filtering in through the windows. It seemed magical, and he smirked at the gesture, but as enchanting as it looked, it could not distract from the mess made of the kitchen. Pots and pans were stacked haphazardly in the sink, food and other substances decorated the countertops and shelves in splotches, and the once tidy cabinets were open and wildly rummaged throughout.

“What a wonderful surprise,” Alucard muttered under his breath. He rubbed the aggravated knot that was already beginning to form in the back of his neck. The careful organization and storage of recipes, ingredients, and food were dismantled in hours, and it made his eye twitch. However, what caused him to blanch was the whispered sound of Mistress giggling as she spoke with Itzhak. They were observing the handstitched dolls Alucard had placed on a low shelf.

“Don’t look at those,” he blurted out, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Ah, Adrian, there you are,” Mistress replied as she and Itzhak rose to their full heights to gaze down at him.

Alucard immediately noticed that she was dressed differently: For one, she wore no cloak, and her chained belt was missing but the amulet remained draped around her neck. Her new dress was still long and fitted her form but was off-shoulder and a muted blue color. The neckline dipped into a sweetheart pattern that almost revealed the line of her bust, and the sleeves remained dramatic and medieval-like. Her long, white hair was styled into cornrows at the front of her head that then dispersed into a bouquet of kinky curls starting at the middle. Furthermore, the two braids that hung forward on each side of her head were decorated at the end with silver beads.

He already considered her beautiful. Only now, she looked more welcoming, and maybe even slightly happier. Had it not been for the mess he knew she made, nor the humiliation he felt at having his dolls discovered, he would’ve complimented her.

“Itzhak and I were just admiring your cute, little dolls.” Reaching out, she grabbed them both in her hand. “They look just like Belmont and the Speaker girl. You’re so creative, Adrian. Isn’t that right, Itzhak?”

He nodded. “Yes, Mistress.”

Alucard shook his head. “You really are laying the compliments on thick; these are hardly impressive.”

He suppressed the urge to groan as he saw the way Mistress placed them back on the shelf. They were slouched over sadly and set too far apart from each other for his liking. Therefore, he approached the dolls rather quickly to fix their positions and lamented as he did so. “This castle was a lonesome, unfriendly place when Trevor and Sypha left, and I admittedly went a little mad when they were gone. These are just dolls but most days they were all I had to talk to.”

Once perfect, Alucard stepped back to admire his handiwork, a small smile tugging on his lips when memories of their playful bickering began to resurface.

“That’s pathetic,” Itzhak deadpanned.

An irritated growl ripped its way from Alucard’s throat as his head turned sharply to glare at the creature. His hands itched with the temptation to tear him apart, but if his earlier reaction to losing an arm were anything to go by, it’d hardly faze him in the slightest.

“Well, it needn’t be that way if they hadn’t left,” Alucard exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at the dolls as his forehead wrinkled in frustration. In the awkward silence, little Trevor and little Sypha toppled forward slightly, as if they were bowing in forgiveness. He immediately noticed and grumbled as he moved to fix them in upright positions again.

Itzhak muttered “pathetic” in his alien tongue then looked to Mistress Death for her response…but, she had none. Instead, she stood rigidly and looked upon Alucard with a face etched with sorrow and guilt. Her eyes began to moisten with blood, tinging the white sclera pink and then red, as her bloody tears welled and threatened to spill. It was an intense look Itzhak had not seen since the night of Alucard’s birth, and it caused him to gasp, “My Mistress!” with a voice tainted by some flicker of worry. Slightly alarmed, she perked up and batted her eyes to return them to normal and acknowledged him.

“What is it?”

“The…surprise—”

“Yes,” Alucard interjected, “what is my surprise?” He faced them with his arms crossed after finishing with his task. “Because I am somewhat underwhelmed and quite frankly annoyed. The candles are a nice touch but, I can see that you’ve cleaned yourself up better than my kitchen.”

Mistress rolled her eyes skyward. “Ugh, you are a true Tepes man at heart, so dramatic.”

With that, she snapped her fingers, causing a visible shockwave to surge from them and spread rapidly outward. Consequently, the cabinets and windows rattled somewhat, and the ground shook slightly, but overall the kitchen was no longer in disarray. Alucard lowered the arm he raised to shield his face and gripped his chin as he surveyed the room, humming thoughtfully. Aside from the candles that still hovered overhead, everything seemed cleaned and in its proper place. Even that weird burnt smell was gone.

“There, is that better?”

Alucard arched a brow then brushed past her, headed towards one of his spice cabinets. He had a complex system when it came to the organization of his spices; one that took him days to figure out the best catalog that suited his cooking methods and palate, and he’d be damned if it was all thrown to the wind. He sifted through that cabinet and two others, checking the labels and positions of different spices to make sure everything was indeed in order. Once everything checked out, he released a satisfied sigh and answered, “Yes, much better.”

“Splendid! Now, come sit. Itzhak, pull out a chair for him!”

“Right away, Mistress.”

Alucard nodded his head in thanks when Itzhak pushed him comfortably up to the table. He had a sneaking suspicion of what to expect, and his mouth formed an “o” when it was confirmed. Mistress carefully set a lidded plate and silverware down in front of him, shyly confessing, “I could’ve used magic or simply summoned a chef from the Outerworld, but I wanted to do things myself.”

Alucard’s warm smile soothed any uncertainty she had regarding his surprise, and she felt more confident with her dish. Her body practically buzzed with excitement as she envisioned how pleased he would look as he ate. She became so eager by these thoughts that she almost wished to stuff his mouth full of food herself! However, she silently scolded herself for thinking such things.

Okay, that’s a little too far. What am I, insane? I need to control myself. It’s only food, but —

“How considerate, thank you, Mistress,” Alucard said, picking up his fork and knife. “I can hardly remember the last time someone has cooked for me, so I can’t wait to dig in.”

She beamed. “Perhaps I can do so again if this meal satisfies you?”

He chuckled lightly. “A tempting offer.”

When she finally lifted the lid, Alucard’s glowing face quickly became cast with a shadow of disgust and confusion. He tried to mask his repulsion with delight, but his furrowed brows and tense, awkward grin betrayed his true feelings. Fortunately for him, due to Mistress Death’s initial excitement, she was none-the-wiser to his first impression of her dish. Itzhak, on the other hand, stood beside her, watching the dhampir closely and softly droning as if in thought. Briefly, Alucard wondered how a being without much of a face could appear so judgmental?

“Well,” Mistress clasped her hands together, “what do you think?”

He poked nervously at the food, examining it with a critical eye. Two unevenly sized chicken breasts sat pitifully atop a mucousy mass of some unknown substance. The chicken was wrapped in what Alucard assumed was mozzarella cheese. It was spotted with pools of reddish oil and stretched thin enough to appear transparent in some areas, revealing the pinkish color of the chicken breasts underneath.

“Ah, chicken,” he commented with a shaking voice and wrinkling nose, “one of my favorites.”

He pushed the poultry aside to dig through the reddish-brown, slimy stuff below. It looked like a massive tumor of maggots, and when he tried to separate it, it pulled apart in gooey strands.

Oh Lord, please.

Alucard was never one to pray over his food before, but now he was beginning to consider asking for some divine intervention. The texture of this stuff alone was enough to make him feel sick, so he didn’t want to imagine how it’d taste. For a moment, he gaped wordlessly at it before clearing his throat. “And what might this be?”

“Jewel worms! They’re considered a delicacy amongst the elven folk in the Outerworld. I only hope I prepared them correctly.”

“I see,” he responded, hoping that his dread didn’t seep too far into his tone. “And what are they supposed to taste like?”

To Alucard’s dismay, she shrugged. “Unfortunately, I would not know. I only followed the recipe once Itzhak brought me the ingredients.”

The maggots themselves sat upon a pile of a thick, gray mush freckled with bits of muted colors. Furthermore, the mush rested in a puddle of runny sauce that resembled muddy water.

As if reading his mind, Mistress explained, “those are mashed potatoes.”

He squinted his eyes to peer closer at it. “What are these speckled bits inside of it?”

“Maybe if you try it instead of asking me, you’d soon find out,” she answered with a wink.

He knew she was only teasing, but as vile as the food looked, her words seemed more like a threat. Even before tasting it, Alucard knew that this dish would be the worst thing he’s ever eaten, and yet, he still wanted to try it. While the glee that twinkled in Mistress Death’s eyes wasn’t enough to convince him that what she made was of any good, it was enough for him to know that she genuinely wished to present him with something she thought would make him happy. It was more than he could’ve asked for, and he couldn’t possibly reject her kindness, no matter how wretched her food was. After steeling himself with a deep breath, he gathered a piece of everything onto his fork and ate.

xXx

“You killed him.”

Mistress clicked her tongue. “Hush! I did not kill him,” she hissed, making Itzhak squirm underneath her murderous glare. The seconds ticked by, and her deadly stillness paired with a chilling silence conveyed a level of anger and threat of violence that was enough to wrench a deep, apologetic bow from his body.

“I was careless with my speech,” he quavered, then added in his alien tongue, “Forgive me, my Mistress!”

At his words, Mistress sighed in approval, stepping away from him. “I can hardly fault you, Itzhak —” she placed her hands on either side of Alucard’s head and lifted it from the table “— he does look quite…dead.”

A mess of food dirtied his face, and some jewel worms even managed to tangle themselves in the strands of his golden hair. With a huff, Mistress lazily waved her hand, magically removing the mess from his face and hair. Next, she effortlessly lifted him into her arms bridal style and turned to Itzhak. A pang of sympathy hit him as he awaited instructions from Mistress. Though her happiness earlier was not a façade, it was draining for her to be around the dhampir. The slight tremor of her arms was evidence of how tired she was becoming, and her once bright eyes had faded to a dying glow.

It’s almost as if she’s making herself sick…but why, my Mistress?

“Take him to his chambers. I don’t know when he’ll awaken, but it shouldn’t be that long. My cooking can’t be that bad,” she said bitterly, the realization of her failure beginning to sully her pride.

Once Alucard was carefully placed in his arms, he started to make his way towards the exit. The clinking of dishes led him to believe that Mistress Death was attempting to prepare another course, but when he turned around to acknowledge another command, he was surprised to see a teapot in her hand.

Unable to suppress his curiosity any longer, Itzhak remarked, “I do not wish to see you this way, my Mistress. Why do you endure for the Tepes boy?”

“You should have intimate knowledge as to why I endure this pain for Adrian — I wish to make him happy. It wasn’t too long ago in your life that you’ve also endured for someone you claimed to love,” she ended with a sneer.

Empathy, Mistress Death thought, do I want Itzhak’s just for the sake of being understood, or do I not want to be seen as a fool?

He grunted in remembrance and countered, “Devotion led to my downfall. I am what I am today because I desired to endure for the sake of another.”

She laughed, the pitch of her voice rising in bewilderment. “Is that what this is about, you believe Adrian would betray me?”

Her eyes flashed dangerously when she faced him fully. “I think you’ve forgotten what I am,” she warned, an inhuman growl crisping the edge of her words. A mysterious light breeze began to push against the fire of the candles above.

Despite this, he courageously pressed on. “I have not forgotten, nor do I believe that the dhampir will betray you.”

Mistress snorted and turned her attention to the teapot in front of her. “Then why waste my time with such musings?”

“Because I know you are hurting! Your body shakes with weariness, my Mistress, and your eyes cloud with blood!”

She was rendered silent and lowered her head. The candle flames also started shivering more violently.

“I also wonder…” He glanced down at Alucard’s handsome face then back to her, “…if your desire to make him happy only stems from your guilt?”

Mistress Death’s head whipped towards Itzhak with as much swiftness as the instantaneous snuffing of the candlelight by the mysterious wind. Her eyes were wild and glassy with tears, and her teeth were bared but non-threatening; she looked deranged.

Cry, cry, cry, she urged herself. But, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Instead, she spoke with a cracking voice, “You never lost what I did…you cannot see what I do. I hurt in a way that you do not understand, and because of that, I…I am...”

Alone.

In her distress, she wished that Alucard would awaken because she wanted to talk with someone who understood. Furthermore, at this moment, when her stubbornness and pride were weak, she desired the strength to pour everything in her heart out to him. She realized that this must be the pain of loneliness, and her body started to ache from it.

Is this the real reason why I stay? Because I’m as lonely as Adrian?

Mistress turned her back on Itzhak as she attempted to control her labored breathing. With a quiet but even voice, she said, “Take Adrian to his chambers, then complete the other task which I’ve commanded you.”

He sighed and nodded. “As you wish, Mistress.”

When he left, she tried to bury her feelings once again as she clutched the teapot tightly to her chest. The only thing that kept her from shattering it in her grip was that it once belonged to Lisa.

Alucard’s eyes opened slowly. His mind was hazy, so he kept still and stared above at the wispy, white curtains of his canopy bed, waiting to remember what had happened to him.

Itzhak. Surprise. Mistress. Food — ah, that’s right. I must’ve blacked out after I ate her food.

He shivered at the memory and became nauseated by the lingering taste in his mouth. As he stood and made his way to the door, it didn’t take him long to put two and two together. He knew that either Mistress Death or Itzhak carried him back to bed, and when he opened the door, he was greeted by the latter.

“You are awake,” Itzhak commented in monotone.

“Yes, how long was I unconscious?”

The creature raised a bony finger to his chin and droned. “About an hour from the last time you were awake.”

Alucard’s brow furrowed. “Pardon?”

“While I carried you up the stairs, you awoke suddenly and vomited, then passed out again.”

He cringed at that. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to cause you such trouble.”

“I have dealt with worse.”

With Itzhak in close step behind him, Alucard made his way to the bathroom.

He glanced behind himself and rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to follow me.”

“I don’t want to, but Mistress has commanded me to keep watch over you, in case you pass out again.”

“How thoughtful of her,” he mumbled.

Once he made it to the bathroom, he quickly shut the door behind him before Itzhak had a chance to step inside; But, almost jumped out of his skin when he turned around to see him standing in the middle of the room.

He growled, “Does she intend for you to babysit me while I piss as well?”

Itzhak scratched his head. “She didn’t specify—”

“Get out.”

xXx

This time, the kitchen was colder and darker when Alucard stepped into it. The candles were gone, so the only light that illuminated the space was the moonlight that poured in from the windows. Mistress sat at the table stock-still with her hands surrounding a steaming cup of tea, and her eyes were closed as if she were sleeping. Alucard hummed in thought and sat next to her, spotting the cup of tea that was waiting for him. Mistress didn’t notice when he sat down, nor when Itzhak materialized into the kitchen, and it caused the dhampir to worry. Something was amiss with her, and he didn’t like it.

He cupped her shoulder and squeezed gently. “Mistress?”

When she opened her eyes, they were pitch black, and after she blinked, they returned to normal. “Adrian, it’s nice to see that you’re awake. Are you feeling any better?”

“Yes, after brushing the taste from my mouth I do, thank you. Are you alright?”

She merely nodded.

“What were you doing?”

She stirred the tea in her cup distractedly. “Just thinking.”

“Of?”

“Death,” she replied matter-of-factly before taking a sip.

He removed his hand from her shoulder and grimaced. “How very fitting,” he said dryly.

After a few moments, she gestured to his teacup. “I found these neglected at the back of your cabinet.”

Alucard huffed a laugh as he traced the golden rim of the floral teacup with his finger. “I was never much of a tea drinker. I only ever drink it when visiting with witches in Arges — my mother, on the other hand, was a different story.”

At this, her voice grew lively. “Oh, I know. Day and night, Lisa would drink it. She was practically addicted.”

“Indeed, she was,” he laughed.

Fondness sparkled in Mistress’s eyes as she traced the designs on the saucer. “This set was a gift from me for one of Lisa’s wedding anniversaries. We used to drink tea all the time together in the castle garden.”

“Really?”

Alucard angled his body slightly closer to her as if he’d hang on better to every word she said this way. His heart warmed at the mention of another speaking so tenderly about his mother. And, he hoped that Mistress would continue speaking of her recollections, for both of their sakes.

“Your mother was always polite enough to drink the tea I prepared. No matter how sweet or how bitter it ended up, she at least took a sip. However, I did get better overtime…with her help of course.”

The pleasant smile she flashed him was contagious.

“I took the liberty of having Itzhak retrieve your mother’s favorite tea flavor from the Outerworld — It’s called Rose of Sharon. I prepared it just as she would’ve liked it. Try some.”

The confidence she had in the drink was assuring, so Alucard did not hesitate to bring the cup to his lips. He was delighted by its floral aroma, which enhanced the sweet and fresh taste. Drinking the tea felt somewhat nostalgic since it reminded him of the perfume his mother used to wear. Oddly, the times he used to spend in the garden with his father, studying botany, also flooded his memory.

“Mmm,” he moaned softly after his first sip, licking his lips as he set the cup on the saucer. “That was very good. You’re quite masterful at tea-making, Mistress,” he praised.

She blinked surprisingly at him. “You mean it?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?”

“Pfft. Well, after considering your last little —” her eyes squinted suspiciously “— stunt, I took you as someone who enjoyed savoring the moment before crushing one’s misplaced optimism.”

He raised his eyebrows at her. “Are you seriously that offended?”

She gave him a side look and drank from her cup.

His eyes narrowed. “Come now, don’t act so childish. While I appreciate your efforts, I won’t deny that what you served me was more akin to poison than anything else.”

“Poison?” she drawled. “Ha! Funny. Maybe the fault lies not in my food but your weak stomach.”

“That’s rich, coming from someone who probably hasn’t even tasted food before. If the state of my kitchen was any indication of the quality of your meal, then it would’ve been wiser for me to pass.”

The tea set jumped with a clank when Mistress slammed her cup on the table. Surprisingly, nothing broke. “Hmph! Be that as it may, there is no better judge in this room than dear Itzhak. He’ll eat practically anything.” As if on cue, he appeared at the far end of the table where Mistress’s abomination still lay.

Alucard arched a brow. “If he’ll eat anything then his judgment would hardly be fair—”

“Nonsense.”

She smiled sweetly at Itzhak. “Go on, take a bite. Tell me how it is.”

He lifted the plate to the mouth that was forming on his face. It opened unnaturally wide to receive everything in one bite. The taste didn’t seem like much of a big deal once he closed his mouth to chew, but after a few moments, he started to retch and cough. When a thick, stringy piece of chicken fat flew out the corner of his mouth, he slurped it back inside, gagging as he did so. Mistress Death’s smile fell more and more with every wet burp and heave Itzhak emitted until her face eventually settled into an angry pout. On the other hand, Alucard was leaning back with his arms crossed, smirking smugly. After struggling to swallow, a shudder ran from the top of Itzhak’s head to the bottom of his feet.

Once his face returned to normal, he gurgled, “It — it’s…good, Mis—”

“Oh, shut up.”

Alucard chuckled, “Well, I think that settles things.” He pushed away from the table and walked towards the door.

Mistress looked at him quizzically. “Where are you going?”

Before leaving the kitchen, he switched on the lights and answered, “Off to retrieve some things. Hopefully, your pride isn’t so wounded that you plan on sitting there, sulking all night.”

Mistress stared at the cutting board, knife in hand. “You must be joking.”

“I most certainly am not,” Alucard replied, setting freshly washed vegetables in front of them. He dried his hands off on a towel and moved beside her.

“You mentioned earlier about possibly cooking for me again, correct? If your offer still stands, then I expect you to do things better the next time. Now, pay attention.”

Mistress raised a brow but couldn’t help to smile. She knew that Alucard wasn’t doing this to belittle her or show off. He was as much of a teacher as his parents, and sharing knowledge seems to be a quality he has similar to his mother. Plus, she had a feeling that he wanted to spend time with her as well, and she found that endearing.

Alucard held up a potato and rotated it to examine. “Potato skin is more nutritious than the potatoes themselves, and I washed them, so there is no need to remove them for this dish.”

Next, he set it on his cutting board and grabbed a knife, explaining, “Hold it crosswise and make sure to maintain it so that it doesn’t roll away while you cut. We’ll need to slice the potatoes like so, making sure each piece is even.”

He demonstrated until the entire potato was sliced. “Now, you try.”

Mistress nodded. “Alright.”

Halfway through cutting a potato, Alucard stopped her, patiently saying, “Your slices are uneven and too thick. Look at mine again, you see? They need to be uniform so that they all cook evenly.”

She tried again, and when he voiced his approval, they cut the rest together.

“You know a lot about cooking, it seems.”

“I’ve had a lot of time to learn here on my own. Some dishes I prepare are ones my mother used to make, and ones that I remember from places the castle traveled to. However, most are a result of experimentation or taken from books.”

She looked up in thought. “Hmm, now that I think about it, I do remember seeing an entire section of Dracula’s library containing nothing but cookbooks. Funny, since he rarely ever cooked.”

“He liked to collect knowledge,” Alucard said with a shrug.

She snorted. “Please, Adrian, call it what it was.”

“What?”

“Hoarding.”

The laughter he barked caused her eyes to crinkle at the corners.

“You must’ve teased my father a lot.”

“Heh heh, yes, more than you know.”

He cleared his throat. “Add these potatoes to the bowl. I already have minced garlic on hand, so let’s chop the spinach and halve these cherry tomatoes.”

She did as instructed and followed along with his guidance. Afterward, they moved everything over to the stove where he had raw chicken breasts waiting.

“Luckily, I had extra chicken stored, so there’s just enough for all three of us.”

From where Itzhak sat at the table, his head perked up. “Three?”

Alucard nodded. “It would be rude of me not to include you, Itzhak.”

The creature droned in response and cocked his head to the side as he watched him teach Mistress how to cook chicken properly. He noticed how her shoulders would sink then quickly raise back up whenever the dhampir looked away then back to her. However, her voice was still full of as much mirth she could express despite her weariness, and she was enjoying his company immensely. However, being around Alucard was a double-edged sword for Mistress, and Itzhak was concerned for the day putting on a brave face would become too arduous a task for her.

He was brought out of these thoughts when a savory aroma triggered his mouth to form, just so it could water.

“You never add more than what the recipe calls for. One cup of heavy cream might not look like enough for this, but it is,” Alucard informed.

“I see. Maybe that’s why my jewel worms came out the way they did.”

“I thought you said you followed the recipe?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Mmm, I may have…added a few things here and there. Don’t look at me like that.”

After combining the other ingredients, they waited for everything to simmer. In the meantime, Mistress set the table while Alucard left to grab some wine. When he returned, it was time to serve the food.

Silverware clinked against the porcelain plates as the trio ate in comforting silence. Given Itzhak’s large hands, he looked like a giant eating with the utensils of a dwarf. Even still, he didn’t let that stop him from enjoying his meal…maybe a little too much.

Mistress huffed exasperatedly. “For the love of — Itzhak, please, you do not have to moan like that after every bite!” She cursed in her alien language then added, “Honestly, are you eating or making love?”

Alucard chuckled, and Itzhak even released a few sounds akin to a laugh.

“It should be a compliment to you, Mistress. He’s only enjoying what you’ve made.”

“What we’ve made. And, you’re right, it is, so thank you, Itzhak. But, don’t be so dramatic about it next time,” she said with mock irritation but cracked a smile at him to signal that she was only teasing.

Light conversation was spoken between the three of them as they finished eating, and when Mistress and Itzhak exchanged a few words to one another in their language, Alucard drank from his wineglass.

As he did so, little Trevor and little Sypha had caught his eye from across the kitchen, and he could almost picture a smile on their faces. The wine tasted much sweeter that night.

A large bubble floated into the air, distorting the reflection of Mistress and Alucard as they stood side by side, washing dishes.

“This was my first time sharing a meal with someone,” she confessed, dunking a plate into the warm water.

“Really? I’m surprised given how much time you’ve spent with my parents.”

“I only ever drank tea with Lisa, and occasionally, wine with Dracula. But, I’ve never shared a meal with them…you’re my first.”

Alucard almost dropped a plate. A light blush stained his cheeks at her choice of words, given how innocently she said them.

“Right —” he hid his face with his hair “— well, did you enjoy it, then?”

He heard her soft laugh and froze when he felt her nails tickle the side of his face as she brushed his hair behind his ear. The motion compelled him to look at her, and despite her actions, he saw neither amusement nor teasing in her eyes, only pure adoration.

“Very,” she answered.

When they finished, Mistress Death’s attire and hair transformed back to the way they originally looked. She stood in the middle of the kitchen with Itzhak by her side.

“There are things I must attend to.”

Alucard looked to the floor. “I understand.”

“Now now, pick your head up. There's no need to look so downhearted and blue.”

Like a nervous boy, he spoke with a quiet voice. “If...if it isn’t too much to ask, may I see you again?” He kept his head bowed, not wanting to glance up for risk of seeing any rejection in her expression.

She lifted his strong chin with her knuckle. Intense, pale eyes were level to his, reflecting his eyes and hair like specks of gold. Her trademarked stillness did not chill nor intimidate Alucard this time. To him, it seemed fragile, as if she’d dart away with any small movement on his behalf, so he kept still too and held his breath as if it’d blow her away if he released it. The longer he studied her face, the more her weariness revealed itself to him. A sadness slowly seeped to the surface of her eyes, then ebbed away and flowed back. It was a push and pull of vulnerability that seemed like she was trying to reveal something to him, and yet, would not — could not?

He itched to know what she was trying to say.

Mistakenly, his lips parted to speak, and he cursed inwardly as she hastily pulled away. But it wasn’t before he caught the pain that had briefly flashed through her eyes. She pulled her hood over her head, concealing most of her face in shadow.

His brow furrowed in concern. “Mistress? What is—”

“I enjoyed my stay very much so I’ll return to you as soon as I can. It won’t be as long of a wait as last time.”

He frowned. One thing Alucard hated was tiptoeing around, but he acquiesced, simply because he didn’t want her to shut him out completely.

She uttered a word to him in her language that sounded lyrical, then explained, “That is my word of promise.”

When he tried repeating it back to her, she giggled at his slight butchering. “You were close.”

Black smoke rose from the ground where Mistress and Itzhak stood and slowly rotated up their forms.

“Until then, Adrian.”

“Until then, Mistress.”

Itzhak waved, and Alucard raised his hand in farewell, seeing the two of them off with a genuine smile.

25 notes · View notes

korra-the-red-lion · 3 years

Text

Unnatural Affairs. Chapter 7: Sweet Dreams.

(Lyn + Michael)

Lyn.

Push. Hold. Lower. Hold. Repeat.

I mechanically went through the motions of my push-ups. They always say exercises are supposed to release those happy feelings, yet it wasn’t helping me all that much right now. I lowered myself all the way down and rolled onto my back, staring up at the morning sky.

It was a chilly morning, which wasn’t all that surprising since it was October. The grass was wet enough that I could feel my back getting soaked from just lying here. I forced myself up into a crunch, holding for 5 seconds before lowering myself down again.

My mind wouldn’t stop replaying the scene of Jackie just lying there. Every time I closed my eyes it was just there. It was really fucking with me. I haven’t really spoken to anyone about it. I didn’t really want to. I know what was holding me back from getting the help I needed, but I couldn’t fight through it. It was like this whole thing has royally screwed with my hold on myself, and now things were spiraling out of my control.

Then there was what Ally and her friend Michael explained to me the other day. It was so utterly ridiculous, but it was something. It made zero sense to me, but so did fucking blood showers and random attacks in the locker room, so in some way it made more sense than anything else. I mean, I thought I did see a shadow in the tree after Ally told me she didn’t like being there, and I know there was writing on the wall. And Jackie’s wound…those were claw marks, not knife wounds.

My stomach lurched when I thought about the wound and I rolled onto my side, steadying my breathing. I screwed my eyes shut and forced my brain to think about anything besides that. For whatever reason, it settled on Nailed It. I started giggling like a madwoman as I fought off my nausea. Man, I must look like a strange site right now.

I forced myself to my feet and sluggishly walked back to my res. When I opened my door, Nura looked over and frowned.

“Lyn, are you okay?”

“Hmm,” I hummed. I picked through my drawer to find a clean shirt to wear.

“You just seem…different. Do you want to talk about it?” I could hear the concern in her voice, and it made me sick to my stomach. I hated when someone worried about me. With my back still to her, I took a deep breath and plastered a smile on my face before turning around.

“I’m good, thanks! Just a little tired, that’s all,” I said. Ugh, my voice sounded so bloody fake.

Nura nodded slowly but she definitely didn’t believe me in the slightest. I turned away and grabbed a few more things before heading to the showers.

I scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed, but the icky feeling that was worming around inside my body wouldn’t go away. I was shaking as I washed my hair, trying to calm myself down. There was no need to get so worked up over nothing. Something. Worked up over something. Something out of my control.

I need to get my head on straight. Maybe once I ate something I’d feel better. It felt like a false hope, but it was something. I carefully cleaned under my nails, paranoid that Jackie’s blood was still under them. I cleaned them religiously 3 times a day, but the feeling was still lingering. Finally, feeling extremely raw from all the scrubbing, I stepped out of the shower and dressed quickly.

Not wanting to talk to Nura again, I dumped my stuff off quickly and made a beeline for food hall. I zipped my parka up and pulled up the hood. It was threatening to rain already, and I didn’t want to get cold after just getting out of the shower.

The smell of food didn’t really entice me like I figured, but I still grabbed a plate of eggs and toast. I sat down at a mostly empty table and slowly worked my way through the food. My stomach was still squirming around, and the food wasn’t making it feel any better.

I heard the footsteps before I even saw who they belonged to. Those stomping steps could only belong to her. “Lyn, Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker,” snarled Loryn as she sat down across from me. “Why are you avoiding me? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for days now!”

I cringed and looked away, shame colouring my cheeks. “Oh…hey Loryn.”

“Oh, do not ‘hey Loryn’ me, Lyn!” She slammed her hand on the table. “You show up for practice looking like an absolute wreck and speed out of there so fast I didn’t get a chance to even say hi! What the hell is going on?!”

“Loryn please, not here,” I muttered, very aware of some of the people listening in.

“Not here?” Loryn seethed, “Then where? Because like I said, you’ve been dodging me since the hospital.”

I rubbed at my face awkwardly, not sure how to answer. I settled for a shrug and a small shake of my head, which only annoyed Loryn more.

“Okay, fuck this.” She got up and walked around, grabbing me by the wrist and forcing me to my feet. “We’re walking. Let’s go.”

I meekly followed her out of the food hall, knowing there was no way I was going to get away from her this time. The rain had started to fall lightly as we stepped outside. Loryn’s angry stomps simmered down to heavy clomps as we walked towards the little pond.

“You better start speaking now, Lyn” said Loryn sternly. I knew she wasn’t going to stay mad at me for long, but the concern I saw in her eyes didn’t make me feel much better.

“If I told you I wasn’t really sure, how mad would you be?” I asked lightly, trying to joke a little.

Loryn’s mouth twitched slightly as she crossed her arms. “I have two older sisters, Lyn, and a little one. I can literally stand here all day if I have to.”

I sighed, shoulders dropping heavily. “I just…I dunno. I’m processing a lot of things right now…” I shoved my hands in my pockets sullenly.

“I get that,” said Loryn as she threw a hand up angrily, “but Lyn, you can’t just push everyone out when you are going through things. We’ve been over this before!”

My mind flashed back to first year, when I got into a huge fight with my parents over Thanksgiving break. That was when I spiralled the first time, indulging in a lot of self-destructive behaviours. Like my extremely unhealthy dating speed run, or my run in with Adderall. Loryn was the first one to notice that something was going on, and I eventually broke down and told her what happened.

My relationship with them was complicated. Being the youngest daughter in a family of three, I had a lot of expectations to live up to. They expected absolute perfection at all times, which is where my need for perfect grades comes from, as well as all the extra training I did on my own. I was getting better, but I still tended to retreat into myself when dealing with an extreme number of emotions. I didn’t want other people to be bothered with me, most likely caused by my upbringing. Asking for help meant you were falling behind the bar, and well…yeah, lots of fighting.

I sighed again, looking at Loryn’s shoulder instead of her face. “I can’t sleep.”

“How long?”

“Since…” my voice got caught in my throat. “…the whole locker room thing. It started a little before, I think. But when I saw…I just can’t sleep right now.”

“Lyn…” Loryn’s voice softened. “It’s totally normal, okay? What you saw…I can’t even imagine that. But it’s not healthy to keep it all bottled up.”

“I know that!” I snapped, before dropping my head in shame. “Sorry. I know that,” I repeated, less annoyed, “but they’re in my head. You know she called me?”

“She did?”

“Yeah.” I kicked a pebble away, watching it fly. “She must have gotten word of the whole incident or something. Anyway, they wanted to check in on me, but I didn’t answer at first. Then I made the stupid fucking mistake of answering the second time.”

Loryn frowned in displeasure. “Yeah? And what?”

I shook my head. “Just the whole ‘well I’m glad to hear that you’re okay,’ which would have been fine if it wasn’t followed up with ‘I just hope this doesn’t affect your grades.’”

Loryn’s face went red with anger, similar to how she looked at me earlier. “Are you serious? One of your friends got hurt and that’s what she says to you?”

“Yup,” I said flatly. “So, on top of my fucking night terrors, I’ve got my mum on my mind. Mix it all together and you get one miserable Lyn,” I finished with a pathetic laugh.

“Lyn, c’mere,” Loryn said with her arms opened wide. I walked into her hug and let her squeeze me tightly. “What you’re going through is allowed, but you gotta open up. I can’t help you if you avoid me like the plague.”

I dropped my chin on the top of her head. “I know, I’m a dumbass.”

“That much is obvious,” Loryn muttered into my shoulder. “Did they give you anything at the hospital?” I shook my head. “Okay, then we need to get something to help you. Because I don’t know how to say this nicely, so I won’t, but you look like shit.”

I chuckled weakly. “Do you say that to all your boyfriends?”

“Only when they look like shit,” she said curtly. “Come on, let’s go do something fun to help you relax a little, then we are totally figuring out who we can call about this.”

“Fine,” I mumbled. “But I have plans today, so can this not take long?”

“What? What kind of plans do you have?”

“I’m…” Shoot, I don’t know how to explain I was going to look into the history of the school because I was going ghost hunting. My brain scrambled to make up something intelligent to say but it couldn’t. Loryn was looking at me questioningly, no doubt thinking I was making it up so I could get out of talking to someone. I finally settled on a half-truth.

“I’m meeting up with Ally later,” I said lamely. I totally never planned on bringing her. Sifting through the archives could take a ton of time and I wouldn’t want to make her help with that.

Loryn made a thoughtful face before breaking out in a playful grin. I was confused and asked, “What’s that face for?”

“Nah, not telling,” she said teasingly.

“What the heck? What about being open and shit?”

“Oh, that’s only for you! I don’t keep locking away my feelings.”

I groaned, “Loryn, just tell me pleaseeeeee.”

“’The cute brunette,’” she said, doing a poor imitation of me.

My ears heated up. “What’s that supposed to mean, huh?”

Loryn giggled. “Oh, nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

“She’s cute, yeah. And I like hanging out with her,” I said throwing my hands in the air, “so what?”

“This is like your second date already,” Loryn pointed out.

Okay, now my face was heating up. “I-I- no, I mean, it’s not like that,” I spluttered as Loryn laughed at me. “I mean, yeah, she’s cute and really fun to hang around with, but that’s all that’s going on, you know?”

“Whatever you say, Lyn. I don’t get in the way of you dating.” Loryn nodded approvingly. “She’s a better pick than Derek at least. No wait, scratch that, the dirt on my shoe is a better choice than him.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me,” she stuck her tongue out.

I grabbed her tongue with a small smirk on my face. “Ally is just a friend, that’s all. Who knows, maybe it will become something more but right now it’s nothing. I don’t know her all that well. She just asked for my help on a history thing. I gotta put this big brain of mine to good use, you know?”

Loryn pulled her tongue away and smiled cheekily at me. “Okidoki. Alrighty, let’s go.”

“Do we have to?”

“Lyn!”

I held my hands up defensively. “Kidding, only kidding.”

Maybe this whole talking to someone thing might be good for me. I already felt a little bit better, even if I was running on very little sleep. I would never admit to Loryn that she was right about this though, because she would never let me live it down. Sometimes it would have been nice to have a friend like her growing up. I probably would have been a little better adjusted, but it is what it is. That’s what growing up is, right? Learning how to be your own person and discovering things you never knew before.

XXX

Michael

If someone told me that I would be swiping some of my lab equipment so I could do a test on a sample from in the locker room from a supposed ghost attack at the beginning of the school year, I would have laughed politely and nodded along without believing a word they said.

But here I was, doing just that.

If my lab partner Travis noticed, he didn’t say anything. We were looking at blood samples today and he kept smushing the lens containing the blood by accident, and I think he just wanted to leave.

Time in lab always seemed to drag on forever. It might have to do with the 3hr slot that was dedicated to it, but I felt like my energy was slowly being drained away. Finally, the TA looked over and told everyone to start cleaning up. I quickly put everything away and wiped down my station, ready to get the heck out of here.

“Hey, Michael?”

I held back from gritting my teeth and looked over at the TA. “Yea’?”

She smiled at me and handed me my assignment back. “You almost forget this.”

I chuckled with a sheepish grin as I took it. “Oh, thanks Jas.”

“No problem.”

After that nearly embarrassed display on my part, I was out of here. I slipped off my lab shoes and tossed them into my backpack with my lab coat. I slipped my sneakers on and pulled my coat from the hook as I sped to the door, ready to get out of here.

It was raining when I came out, which was a bit of a mood killer. Then a thought popped in my head.

Wait, why was I in lab? They’re cancelled for the week.

All of a sudden, the sky rumbled as if it was annoyed that I came to this realization. I looked around, seeing if there was anyone around. The whole campus was empty, except one person sitting on the steps leading into the Harper building. I madly ran over, my feet slipping on the wet pavement with something that definitely not rain.

“Hey! HEY!” I hollered, trying to get their attention. They wouldn’t look up. Maybe they couldn’t hear me? I yelled louder, waving my arms around. Finally, they looked over.

Half her face was rotting off. Skin was hanging by threads as her face oozed with pus. Her left eye was leaking something cloudy, and her smile was disturbing. I forced myself to stop running towards her, backpedalling to now get away. But she lifted a hand and crooked her finger, and I was pulled over against my will, like there was a giant hand tugging at me.

“W-what do you w-want?” I stuttered nervously.

She tilted her head, and a chuck of skin plopped to the ground. I nearly threw up right there, but I managed to hold it in. Barely. She stood up and I could see that other parts of her body were equally as rotten. She opened her mouth and shrieked in my face, spittle and pus and blood all splashing against me.

Oh my God oh my God ohmygod.

Her finger dug into my cheek as her good eye examined me. “You are the perfect specimen,” she said, her voice sounding like echoes in my ears. Before I could ask what she meant by that, she stabbed her hand through my chest.

I woke up with a jolt.

I quickly patted my hands over my chest but there was no bleeding. I sighed in relief before grabbing my phone to check the time. It was just around 11, I must have turned my alarm off by accident. I used the hem of my shirt to wipe the sweat off my face before texting Ally.

M: Ally, I just had a super weird dream.

It didn’t take long for her to reply.

A: Huh? What do you mean?

M: I was in lab when suddenly I realized that we have no classes and there was this woman sitting on the steps of Harper. I went over to ask her something and she was a rotting corpse!!!

A: are you serious?

M: yeah!! Then she fricking stabbed me!!!

A: D:

A: OMG

A: That sounds so freaky

M: yea for realz! She said something really weird to me to

M: *too

M: she said you are the perfect specimen

A: oh spicy, ghost has the hots for you

A: plz invite me to the wedding

M: Ally I was murdered in my dreams and you think we should get married?

A: was it your worst date ever then?

M: … I would say yes

M: though my date with Kiki Gillmore was pretty bad too

A: :P

I put my phone down and chewed on my nail, feeling a little better about the whole thing. It was just really freaky to feel something going though my body like that. I don’t even know who she was, but she looked pretty pissed off. And that voice, man. That was freaky crap. It wasn’t the first time I had a strange dream like that, but they were never that violent.

What did my dad always say about strange dreams? Michael, all dreams have some basis in reality. If something happens in a dream, there must be a reason for it.

Whelp, I really really really hope that wasn’t the case here. I’m not sure about other people, but I wasn’t a big fan of dying. Especially dying by hand stabbing. If I was going to die, I wanted it to be at least peaceful or heroic.

Deciding I needed to get rid of the heebie jeebies, I rolled out of bed and put on some clean clothes. There as a small shop that sold neato things like crystals and stuff. The lady who owned the store even did tarot readings. If there was some place I could buy ghostly protection from, it would be her place.

I suspiciously glanced at the rain-soaked pavement as I walked down towards the main street. At least it was just rain this time.

It didn’t take me too long to make it to The Dreaming Mythic. As usual, it looked pretty dead on the inside. I popped in, making sure the door closed behind me so the rain didn’t get in. Instantly I got hit with the smell of sage and…lavender? I think it was lavender. I poked around for a little bit before I approached the counter after getting freaked out by the petrified doll heads.

Being stabbed by a rotting corpse ghost was preferable to death by dolls.

Talia, the owner of the shop, smiled when she saw me approached. Probably because I’m the first customer she’s had today. Or in the last few days. Regardless, she leaned forward and asked, “Well, what can I do for you today, Mr. Yamamoto?”

I smiled at her pleasantly. “Hey, Talia. This probably won’t sound too strange to you, but I’m in the market for some magical protection,” I said, wiggling my fingers at her for dramatic effect.

“What kind of protection exactly?”

I pointed up. “Protection from them.”

She looked bemused. “Angels?”

Oh, she was playing with me today. I laughed and shook my head. “Nah, I wish. What I’m looking for is something to protect me and a few friends against ghosts.”

“Ghosts, is it?” She frowned and rubbed her nose. “What kind of ghosts?”

“I think they’re angry, maybe even vengeful.”

“Ah,” she said softly. She turned around to open up a small cupboard above her head. “How did you get mixed up with an angry spirit, Mr. Yamamoto?”

I crossed my arms behind my head, stretching my back out. “Uh, it’s not me exactly. Well, it kinda is. My friend, Ally, she’s the one getting into it. Her friend, Lyn, and some of the other girls on the swim team are being haunted, we think.”

“Oh, I heard about that poor kid getting attacked,” she commented. “It sounded a little too convenient to just be a knife attack. And right after they had such an ominous warning sign?” She shook her head in mild disappointment as she continued to gather things in her arms.

I poked at the amulets dangling from the display as I waited for her to finish up. Talia was nearly done, as she put down her armful of items before disappearing into the back room for a few minutes. I looked down, not sure exactly what gems she had pulled out. I recognized the amethyst, but that was about it. I wasn’t exactly a rock guy. Finally, she came back with a large dusty book and dropped it on the counter.

“I don’t know the personalities of the people you’re helping,” she said carefully, “but anyone who is willing to get entangled with the departed is someone who has done this before. I think for your friend Ally, this is what she needs.”

She handed me a necklace with an amethyst stone in the middle and some bracelet with a black stone in the center. “Amethyst is for soothing the user, and the onyx will help protect the wearer from dark spirits. For you, son, I recommend a peridot. It is associated with protection, purity, and emotional balance.” She frowned, muttering under her breath. She grabbed a ring off the counter and placed it gently in my hand. “Give this to the tall one. She’s going to need the quartz if she plans on helping you. All of you should be wearing some form of onyx, if I’m being truthful.”

I looked down at the various jewelry in my hands. “Um…how much do I owe you?”

She stared at me very intensely. I never really noticed it before, but the green in her eyes looked a little yellow in this light. She gave me a small smile. “$15.”

That seemed extremely underpriced. I raised my brow in question, but she only shook her head. “Mr. Yamamoto, how would you feel if you charged someone an insane price to help protect themselves from something that might kill them?”

“Super crappy, I guess,” I said quietly. The thought of the ghosts killing us was something that never once crossed my mind. I tapped my debit card against the machine and thanked her before heading out, my backpack now filled with various forms of protection.

Well, at least I felt a little productive today. Later tonight Lyn was planning on doing some research, I think. And I know Ally hasn’t said anything about joining her, but I had a sneaky feeling in my gut that she was going to. I wasn’t like, 100% sure, but the eyes she was giving Lyn during our chat had been p r e t t y intense. I chuckled to myself, because I was pretty sure Ally wasn’t completely aware of it just yet.

Nothing like a little romance to spice up a good old ghost hunt, amiright?

#unnatural affairs #ua #ally holland #lyn hart #michael yamamoto #original story #original fiction #paranormal #murder mysteries #mystery #romance #ghosts #loryn frasier

2 notes · View notes

jaskiers-sweetkiss · 3 years

Text

Sunset Swerve - Part 6

Pairings: Luke x OC

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: light cursing

A/N: Day 6 of @jatp-week is favorite fanfic trope and since I’m a sucker for enemies to lovers here’s the next chapter of Sunset Swerve! We’re through episode 5 now. Some house keeping before you get into the chapter: song lyrics are italicized and the songs used in this chapter are Get Gone and Last Song by Thalia Mar. Idk why but the jatp soundtrack reminded me of her music so I figured why not make them Apollo 81 songs? Definitely recommend checking her out! As always, let me know what you think!

Part 5 Masterlist

___

“Where are they?” Julie paced backstage.

“They’ll be here any minute,” Jordan had reassured the girl last time she had asked. That had been nearly an hour ago and this time the ghost girl had no explanation for their absence.

She frowned as she considered what might be keeping the three ghost boys from their first gig. The only feasible explanation she could come up with was that they’d gotten what they needed from Willie’s friend and were currently confronting Bobby. The thought made her blood boil, that they would abandon the girls for revenge.

“I have no idea,” Jordan answered the pacing girl, “But I have an idea.” “Idea for what? Can you like summon them here or something?” Julie asked skeptically but at least she had stopped pacing.

“No.” Julie frowned. “But, I know a way Julie and the Phantoms can still perform. Well, Julie and the Phantom, singular.”

“We can’t perform without the guys, we need them for all our songs.”

“True,” Jordan admitted. “But there are some old songs I wrote with Apollo 81 that we could perform with just the two of us.”

“You want to learn a brand new set of songs and perform them tonight?” Julie questioned, crossing her arms and giving Jordan a look that clearly showed her disbelief.

“I already know the songs and you’re a freaking music prodigy, we can absolutely do it.” Jordan protested, “I’ll pop back to the studio to get my notebook and meet you in the band room, okay?”

Julie nodded, smiling at her in a way that told Jordan how crazy she thought she was.

Jordan appeared in the studio a moment later and quickly scrambled up the later to the loft, sifting through her left behind belongings for her old song notebook. She kept the most recent one on her at all times in her bag but it was filled with songs for a four-piece band, none of which she could rework in time for herself and Julie to perform. However, she knew somewhere in the loft there was a notebook of songs she and the girls had been working on just for fun, some of which could easily be performed by just the two of them.

She thrusted it into the air triumphantly when she finally found it in an old box with some Apollo 81 memorabilia. She quickly poofed back to the school, landing on the piano bench next to Julie.

“Did you find it?” She asked after recovering from being startled by the ghost’s sudden appearance.

“Got it right here,” Jordan held up the notebook before flipping through the pages. “So I was thinking we could start with...”

Jordan walked Julie through her thought process on the setlist before they got to work. Just two songs to learn as fast as they could. They practiced for nearly an hour, Julie finally seeming comfortable enough with the lyrics and melodies to make it work when she got a text from Flynn.

“We should get out there,” Jordan said, moving to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder but forgetting that was impossible. “We’ve got this.”

Julie nodded, taking a deep breath before holding her head high and marching out of the band room. Jordan whooped excitedly as she followed behind her.

“Get ready cause Julie and the Phantoms are about to rock your socks off!” She called excitedly though she knew only Julie could hear her.

Julie shook her head, laughing at the girl’s outdated phrases.

“It’s eleven o’clock, you gotta perform,” Flynn said when they arrived backstage. “Even without the guys you’ll sound amazing.”

Julie smiled at the compliment.

“Don’t worry, Jordan and I have a plan.”

“You’re going on?” A voice asked from behind them and Julie froze.

Jordan cooed silently at how adorable the blond boy was, clearly caring about Julie and the band.

Julie nodded, though Jordan could see the nerves filling her again. Nick grinned from ear to ear before running out on stage.

“Guess what guys!” He exclaimed, grabbing Flynn’s microphone. “Julie fixed the hologram thing! Who’s ready for a show?”

The crowd erupted into cheers and Jordan grinned, starting to bounce on the balls of her feet as she felt the mix of nerves and adrenaline pumping through her body as it always did before a performance.

“Uh, hi,” Julie said, stepping onto the stage and accepting the mic from Nick.

“You’ve got this,” Jordan called out reassuringly and Julie took a breath, starting stronger.

“So, here’s the thing: even though we got the machine fixed, thanks to Nick,” she smiled at the boy and the crowd cheered, “I still can’t link up with all the guys, WiFi am I right?” She joked, gaining chuckles from a few people in the crowd.

“So, the shows going to look a little different tonight. It’s just me and Jordan, hope you don’t mind.” She smiled lightly and the crowd cheered while Jordan whooped again from behind her.

Flynn grinned at her best friend, giving her two thumbs up as she walked off stage.

“Get all your bags, get out my house, I don’t want your stuff around. I never did you wrong, but you did me wrong so go ahead and get gone,” Julie sang from the piano, repeating the intro once before Jordan joined in.

She poofed onto the stage, guitar in hand as she took over the melody, Julie jumping up from the piano as the crowd cheered for what they thought were hologram effects. As Jordan played Julie began to stomp and clap out a back beat, getting the crowd to follow along as she joined her bandmate in center stage.

“All this time, I wasted on you,” she began the first verse, the crowd yelling excitedly as the girls played. “You’d think I’d feel something. You thought wrong. I feel nothing, so now I guess it’s your move.”

“You used my back as a door, left me for dead on the floor. You didn’t try no not one bit,” Jordan took over for the pre chorus, leaning into her own mic. “Thought I came off as weak, well this is me proving you wrong.”

“Get all your bags, get out my house...” Julie took over the chorus once more, Jordan singing the backup harmonies.

Before she knew it the song was over and the crowd was screaming. Jordan grinned, slinging her guitar to the side as she pulled her mic from the stand.

“Hi, guys!” She greeted the gymnasium. “We’re Julie and the Phantoms!” The name was met with a roar of applause from the students. “I hope you don’t mind that we deviated from our usual rock sound for you tonight.

“For this next song I wanna get my girl Flynn up here!” Jordan spoke, waving the girl onto the stage again. “As you’ve all seen tonight, Flynn is crazy talented and I’m hoping she can help us out with this next song as we’re missed a few hands,” she laughed, gesturing to the mostly empty stage and Flynn nodded, moving over to her setup.

“This ones called Last Song, hope you like it,” Jordan grinned, gesturing to Julie who had returned to the piano.

While Julie began the first verse, switching the keyboard to an organ sound Jordan explained to Flynn what they needed.

“...I never let it go cause you never gave me the chance to,” Flynn joined in with the beat and Jordan grinned. “I never had the time to talk and be done with you, so I say it now,”

“This is the last song I promise you at least for now,” as Jordan came in on her guitar Julie bounded over, holding out her microphone for the ghost to take over the chorus. “This is the last song I’ll ever write about you.”

The two girls fed off each other’s energies and the cheers from the crowd, neither one able to keep the smiles off their faces. It was over before Jordan was ready for it to be, the three girls taking a bow and Jordan disappearing once more.

She watched from the side of the stage as Julie thanked their audience and soaked up the applause with her best friend. The gymnasium emptied out not long after and once she was sure Julie was all set she poofed away, planning to give the guys a piece of her mind.

When she arrived back at the Hollywood Ghost Club she wasn’t sure what she was expecting but it hadn’t been a hopping party with a massive band. The whole room was dancing and Jordan couldn’t help but bop along to the beat as well as she searched for her bandmates. She finally found them as the song wound down, all three of them right in the middle of the stage.

“The haunting hour is upon us!” A man in a fabulous purple suit called when the clock struck midnight and the crowd replied with a low ‘ooooh’ before the band kicked up again.

Jordan watched with crossed arms as Luke scrambled to get the boys together, the trio rushing towards the exit where she was stood.

“Oh shit,” Luke cursed, stumbling to a stop in front of her and holding his arms out to stop the guys behind him.

“Yeah,” Jordan said snidely and the guys gulped.

“Gentlemen, what’s the rush?” The purple suited man from before questioned as he poofed behind the group and Jordan turned to face him. “You must be Jordan. We certainly missed you tonight.”

“Looks like I missed out on quite the party,” Jordan replied sincerely before turning to glare at the guys.

“Well the party’s just getting started, and you have an eternity after all,” he quirked an eyebrow at her and she smiled gratefully at the offer.

“Y’know that girl who can see us?” Reggie interjected, pushing forward past the guys. “We sort of bailed on her. See there’s this dance at her school tonight, and she’s got this friend Flynn who’s a super cool dj like-“

“Okay, I don’t think he has an eternity to hear the story,” Alex cut him off.

“Basically we’re late for a gig,” Luke summarized and Jordan snorted, late was an understatement.

“But what about my offer?” Purple suit asked and Jordan frowned.

“What offer?” She asked, looking between the man and her bandmates.

“To join my house band,” he answered, spreading his arms out in a grandiose gesture. “Naturally the offer is extended to you as well, I’ve heard you possess a great musical talent.”

“Thank you,” she blushed at the compliment. “But, I’m already in a band.”

“Yeah, it’s like we said Mr. Covington,” Luke started but purple suit held up a hand to stop him.

“You have your own band, I understand.” He said, his seemingly warm smile not quite reaching his eyes. “But, if you ever wanna come back and fix that little problem with your friend, the Hollywood Ghost Club is always open.”

The guys grinned at the offer and Jordan held back a sigh. She understood the importance of getting back at Bobby but their pursuit of revenge was kind of becoming a problem.

“Yeah, man, we’d love to come back,” Luke accepted and purple suit smiled, reaching out to shake his hand.

“Music to my ears,” he said, shaking each boy’s hand in turn and then reaching Jordan. She hissed slightly as she felt something burn into her wrist as they shook hands.

“Oh, it’s just a little club stamp.” He explained as she watched the purple symbol fade away and they all nodded at the explanation.

“Until next time,” he said, chuckling deeply. It was actually mildly disturbing, Jordan thought.

She stood and watched as each boy filed out of the building, not planning to let them out of this one. Alex took a moment longer to inquire about Willie, which Jordan allowed because truthfully she was rooting for them.

Once they were out of the club, they all poofed to the school, Jordan appearing next to Julie under a now half-popped balloon arch.

“Julie we are ready to rock this.... dance,” Reggie called as the guys ran into the gym, faltering as they took in the scene before them.

“We are so, so sorry that we bailed on you,” Luke said, stopping next to Reggie as they faced Julie who had since stood up, adopting a disappointed stance.

“Yeah, the night really got away from us,” Alex continued.

“And the twin,” Reggie added, only to be met with glares form the other three ghosts.

“Why didn’t you come get us?” Luke asked, turning on Jordan accusatorially.

“Nuh uh, don’t you turn this on her,” Julie sassed, stepping between the two ghosts. “You guys were supposed to be here. She’s not your babysitter.”

“You’re right, we’re so sorry,” Luke sighed, staring down at his shoes. “But we’ll make it right, we’ll do whatever it takes. We’ll play the next school-“

“What, another dance where you can bail on me and make me look like a fool? Save it,” Julie spoke and Jordan gulped. “If it weren’t for Jordan I never would’ve been able to show my face here again!”

“You know what sucks?” She continued, growing more emotional as the confrontation went on. “Our songs were good. And all three of you knew what I’ve been through. How tough it’s been for me to play, and you do this? Bands don’t do that to each other. Friends don’t do that to each other.”

Jordan tried to hide her sniffles as she discreetly wiped the tears from her eyes. She couldn’t handle Julie’s speech and the heartbreak obvious on the guys’ faces. She had wanted them to get shamed a little for their mistake, she was disappointed in them herself, but not like this. She couldn’t stand to see all her new friends this upset, especially with each other.

“This was a mistake,” Julie said quietly but firmly.

“Y-you mean the school dance right?” Luke gulped.

“No.” Julie said coldly, “I mean joining a band with you guys.”

Before any of them could stop her she was running out of the gym, both Luke and Jordan calling out her name as she left.

“Why couldn’t you have just come and gotten us, Moss,” Luke spat, turning his heartbreak and frustrations on her.

Jordan sniffled, no longer trying to hide her tears as she stood from the gym floor.

“Why couldn’t you have just been responsible?” She wasn’t sure where she’d found a voice through her tears and swirling emotions, but the voice she found was full of malice and betrayal.

Before they could get into another of their signature fights she poofed out, reappearing in the studio. She didn’t stay long, only taking the time to grab her book before running up the path to the house and Julie’s room. She hoped the girl wouldn’t mind that she was there, but she was certain she wasn’t welcome in the loft anymore.

She nearly collapsed in pain upon arrival in the room. A sharp jolt of pain had shot through her chest, it felt almost as if she were dying again.

“What the hell was that?” She groaned quietly to herself, curling up on the ground.

Part 7

___

JATP Taglist: @meangirlsx

Sunset Swerve Taglist: @oopsiedoopsie23 @angryknightstatesmantrash @onlygetaway @deni-gonzalez @advicefromnixxxx @brooke0297

72 notes · View notes

vicunaburger · 4 years

Text

Admittedly, I’m Hard to See

Fandom: Beetlejuice the Musical Chapters: 10/? Pairing: Beetlejuice x OC (Holidae) The Players: Beetlejuice, Lydia Deetz, Holidae Bell Word Count: 1,563 Warnings: M for Language and Suggestive Content

Notes: …angst angst angst angst...

Chapter 10- In Which Occam’s Razor is Proven Correct

In the almost two months since moving into the house with Lydia and Beetlejuice, Holidae had yet to venture beyond the second floor.

She was aware there was a massive attic space, that Lydia’s family had a few things stored up there for safekeeping, but it was wholly underused in the grand scheme of the floor plan. Holidae vaguely remembered Lydia saying something about wanting to convert it into a dark room at some point, but nothing else. It was just there. A set of steps leading off into the abyss as far as she was concerned.

So it was quite the surprise when Lydia sent Holidae up to the attic to rummage around for photo props for her latest brilliant scheme.

“Just go find something… I dunno. Haunted looking.” Lydia had instructed before retreating back into her bedroom.

Holidae trudged up the surprisingly steep set of stairs, barely even touching the doorknob before it swung open, almost beckoning her inside. She was getting used to the creepy nature of the house by then, merely shutting the door behind her with a quiet click.

The space was huge, but not as empty as Lydia had claimed. An old, patched up sleeper sofa was unfolded into a bed in the far corner, accompanied by a dresser and a large mirror. A rack of clothes was stuffed up against the wall, doing a poor job of hiding the piles of meticulous marked cardboard boxes that lined the walls. Unfinished works of “art” sat collecting dust on the opposite side of the room. With a little work, it could have been converted into a rather spacious guest room, but it was far too shabby to house anyone now.

Holidae’s attention was drawn to the clothing rack, seeing an array of colorful dresses - Delia’s, no doubt - and some smaller, darker clothes: most likely Lydia’s old hand-me-downs. She sifted through the clothing idly, making the occasional face at the more gaudy ensembles, until she came upon… a man’s suit. It was hidden so well in between the other garments, she would have passed it by completely if she hadn’t been paying attention.

She pulled out the suit, shaking some dust off of the lapels, and inspected it carefully. The jacket and pants were a deep, but loud, red color; stained with grime that turned patches of fabric a sickly gray, stitched with thread that didn’t match any color on the suit. A ruffled shirt completely the look: again, a garish red, but a rusty hued stain had soaked into the front of it, a good sized rip disrupting the button line.

Furrowing her brow, Holidae stood in front of the mirror, holding up the suit next to her for height reference, “Hm. Too short for Mr. Deetz…”

A small whiff of tobacco smoke was the only warning she had before the suit was ripped from her hands, and she was shoved backwards toward the center of the room with force. It took some ungraceful, wobbly steps, but she managed to regain her center of gravity. Beetlejuice stood in the place she once was, crushing the suit against his chest in a vice-like grip, his hair matching the red of the fabric, his expression terrifying.

“Who the fuck gave you permission to come up here and go through my shit?” His gravely voice was low, reverberating deep in his chest.

Holidae held up her hands in defense, “Whoa, wait! I had zero idea of your stuff being up here! Lydia told me to get something for her, that’s all.”

“She told you to get this?” He held up the suit, “This specific thing that was hidden from view?”

“Well, no…” She started to chew on her bottom lip, feeling the pit of her stomach drop. “She said to get something haunted, so I was looking around through the clothes because most of them are frankly hideous, and it was on the rack. How was I supposed to know you wore anything besides stripes for god’s sake? I don’t think you have the right to be so angry about something like this.”

Beetlejuice didn’t seem impressed with her ramblings, putting the suit back in its place before advancing on her like an animal, “I don’t have the right?”

Despite him now looming over her, she stood her ground, “It was an honest mistake.”

His hands wrapped themselves around her neck, his thumbs pressing up into the bottom of her jaw, “Honest mistake, she says, like I would just believe you. You know what else could be called an honest mistake? Snapping your neck before you could even take a last breath. Oh no, what a shame, I didn’t mean to murder her. It was an honest mistake.”

“N-no, an honest mistake would be more akin to forcing your bestest best friend to marry you under duress and then realizing the whole affair was a waste because if you would have just sat down and talked things over you could have been happier faster.” Holidae could feel her pulse pounding under her skin, pressing against the force of his hands. “I know a tuxedo when I see one.”

Beetlejuice squeezed harder, earning him a gasp from his captive, “You are so mouthy today, Holli. Where’s all this coming from, huh? Do you think we’re friends Holli? That we have some sort of understanding? What makes you think I haven’t been fucking with you this whole time because I’m bored out of my skull? Wait wait… don’t tell me… you think I feel something for you other than utter contempt, right? You’re alive. I exterminate living things as a job.”

“…did anyone ever tell you that you can’t lie for shit?” Holidae choked out, her eyes starting to water with effort to breathe.

The muscles in his jaw twitched, and he eased up on his grasp, “…I lie all the time, babes.”

“Exactly, but you’re bad at it.” She reached her hands up, grabbing hold of his forearms. “If you didn’t care about the living as much as you claim, you wouldn’t have kept a constant reminder of a time when you were one of us.”

“Ugggh, damn.” Beetlejuice released her completely, walking over to sit on the edge of the fold-out bed.

Holidae waited a moment before following him, watching as his coloring turned from red to a dull violet, sitting with his face in his hands. Still leery, she crept over, standing over him in quiet contemplation.

“…don’t tell Lyds.” He finally spoke, running his hands down his face with a sigh.

“About the suit?” She asked, gesturing behind him to the clothing rack.

“No, about the fact I haven’t dusted up here in weeks. Yes about the suit.” Beej groaned, leaning over and resting his head against her thigh. “I know she already feels bad about the whole… stabbing thing. I don’t want to make it worse for her.”

“Tell you what; no more murder attempts, and I’ll keep your secret.” One of her hands reached down and patted him on the head; surprised by how soft his hair felt despite it’s messy nature. “Deal?”

Almost instinctively, he leaned into her soft touches, “Deal. Weirdo.”

“Me? I’m the weirdo? Uhh, pot calling kettle there, sir.” Holidae protested, tapping on his skull with her fingertips, “Mind elaborating for me?”

Beetlejuice put his hands around her waist, pulling her down onto the bed beside him, and rested his head on her soft stomach. Holidae made a small noise at the sudden shift of view, but let him do as he pleased for the moment. Her hand went back to absently petting his hair, seeing pink mix with the violet.

“I’m a literal demon who just threatened your life again, and you didn’t have the self preservation to like… run away. You’re weird. Like Lydia is weird… but you’re different weird.” His clawed fingers, unsubtle as he was, slipped under the hem of her shirt, feeling the warm skin underneath.

“Okay, I’ll give you that. Ahh~ cold hands.” She squirmed uncomfortably.

“Cold hands? Where?” He sat up, pulling her shirt up and over her bra to expose more of her skin, rolling her back and forth to check all sides of her. “I don’t see any cold hands under here. I think you’re losing it, Holidae; finally going mad! It’s the curse of this house.”

“Or maybe it was a jerkass ghost.” Holidae flailed helplessly, completely undone and laughing until she was out of breath, “S-stop!”

Beej continued running his hands all over her exposed flesh, pinching and dragging his claws to leave little white marks, “I’m trying to get those cold hands off of you, hold still! You’re clearly in distress and need my help, babydoll, your face is all red… you must be terrified, right? Don’t you worry about a thing. Aha!”

He dove down as he lifted her midsection off the bed, catching some skin between his teeth and biting sharply, the flesh immediately red and starting to bruise when he pulled away. Holidae couldn’t hold back the noise that left her throat; a soft keening whine breaking through the laughter. It startled her, and she clamped a hand down over her mouth to muffle herself, watching as those molten gold eyes of his turn dark.

“Oh? Care to repeat that, Holli? Didn’t quite catch it…” Beetlejuice grinned wide, leaning down for another attack.

Knock

Knock Knock

“Holli? Didn’t know if you got eaten by the monster octopus that lives up here. Should have warned you about Captain Tentacles, my bad.” Lydia’s voice echoed from the other side of the door, just as the knob started to turn.

Writing Tags: @mr-geuse @paxenera @leiasolo77 @go-commander-kim @ashemspirit

#beetlejuice broadway #beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice musical #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice x self insert #beetlejuice x oc #writing time

23 notes · View notes