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wkemeup · 5 years

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The Witness (10)

series summary: After witnessing a Hydra hit and the handsome, borderline endearing cop who had become a regular at your bar takes it upon himself to ensure your safety off the books, you learn to rely on someone else for a change and find you don’t mind it at all. Not when it’s him.

pairing: detective!bucky x reader

word count: 9k

warnings: little bit of angst, little bit of fluff, little bit of violence

author’s note: I almost split this one into two chapters too, but ugh idk i didn’t want to disrupt the flow of the storyline and i have zero capacity to write short fics im sorry

series masterlist // previous chapter

An hour had passed without word from the surgeons beyond the double doors at the end of the hall. The nurse Sam had been bothering finally agreed to come look at you, though when she laid eyes on the light red stains upon your hands and the knife wound along your cheek, she perked up immediately, calling for another nurse as she passed by. She had chastised Sam for not telling her the state of your condition and he all but threw a silent tantrum behind her as she spoke to you, causing you to bit on your lip to suppress a laugh.

A nurse by the name of Sharon knelt in front of you, her blonde hair curled in gentle waves over her shoulder and a sweet look in her eye as she gestured for your hands. You set them in her palms, appreciating that she hadn’t bothered to ask you to follow her to an exam room. Steve sat next to you the whole time, his knee touching yours ever so slightly, but enough to keep you grounded. Sam slumped into a chair across from you as the older nurse returned to the desk, grumbling under her breath and sending a glaring look in Sam’s direction.

Sharon reached over for a cart on Steve’s left and he helped her swing it around. From the bottom drawer she pulled out a series of white clothes and a bottle filled with a clear liquid. She sprayed some onto the wipes and offered you an encouraging smile.

“This may be a little cold but it’ll get the dried blood off your skin,” she said softly, watching you for recognition before she began to run the cloth along your arms. You flinched at first, surprised by the coolness of the damp wipe, but you settled quickly. Sharon was as gentle as she could be, pressing a little harder when a patch of dried blood didn’t want to wipe away on its own. It stuck in the hair of your arms and cracks in your knuckles.

Once she was finished, she threw the red stained rags into the disposal bin on the side of the cart. Then she pulled out a new set of bandages and began wrapping the burns on your wrist without another word. There was some kind of cooling gel underneath that made the ache in your wrists a little less noticeable. She affixed the clips on the ends of the bandage, securing them with just enough pressure to protect it while giving it room to breathe.

Then, she took a seat next to you, dragging the cart closer as she pulled out a cotton swab and dipped it into the clear bottle she had used on your arms.

“This may sting,” she warned, holding it up against your face. You nodded and you felt Steve’s hand sitting over yours. You turn your palm and let him grab your hand. You squeezed it and Sharon pressed it to the cut. It left a burning sensation behind as she cleaned the wound and you clenched your jaw. She muttered an apology under her breath as she continued to work. It was over quicker than you anticipated. Steve released your hand.

“Good news is it won’t need stitches,” Sharon smiled at you, disposing of the swab. “I’m just going to put some surgical glue on and you’ll be all set.”

The glue didn’t sting the way the clear liquid had and it was over before you had time to wince at the tingling sensation of it. When she was finished, she set the materials back on the cart and set her eyes on Sam.

“You know you’re still in trouble for running out on us,” she smirked, folding her arms over her chest. Despite her light pink scrubs and the teddy bear sticker adhered to her ID badge, she had an intimidating aurora you didn’t want to be on the receiving end of, even if it was in jest. Sam sunk further into his chair, grimacing.

“Sorry about that,” Sam apologized weakly, eyeing Steve for support who only shrugged and looked away.

“I suppose if your stitches held together in your escape, you should be fine,” Sharon conceded, though there was a laugh on the end of her words. She set a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “I know you’re waiting on news about the officers down in surgery. I’ll do my best to get an update for you.”

You exhaled, a moment of relief as you nodded. “Thank you.”

She smiled sweetly before she turned towards Sam with a teasing glare and jogged down the hall and through the double doors.

“You’ve gotta stop pissing off the nurses, Sam,” Steve laughed.

Sam shook his head, grumbling under his breath, “they started it.”

***

Sharon came back twenty minutes later. Nat was out of the OR and in the ICU until further notice, and no—you couldn’t see her just yet. Peter was still in surgery and they had successfully removed the metal chunk in his leg, though they ran into a few close calls. Plastics had taken the lead to start removing the burned skin while General closed up his leg. No end in sight for now.

Dr. Palmer was currently working on Bucky down in OR 7. Everything was going smoothly so far, but they were spending more time than expected on the stab wound in his stomach due to the serrated edges of the knife having ripped his skin and internal organs to shreds. It was apparently a miracle he survived long enough to get into the OR in the first place. You winced as Sharon told you so and she immediately bit down on her lip, having realized the way it came out. She went on to inform you that the cuts along Bucky’s left shoulder were proving difficult to stitch up. The scars it would leave behind would be unavoidable.

You nodded as she spoke, trying to breathe through the anxiety tingling in your skin.

An hour later, you met Steve’s wife, Peggy. She had come storming through the elevator doors, heels clicking on the tile flooring as she rushed to Steve. A million questions a minute rambling from behind bright red lipstick and a thick English accent, she started to direct her attention to the nurses when Steve couldn’t get the answers out fast enough. The older nurse who had become rivals with Sam was happy to update her.

After several minutes, Peggy fell down in the chair next to Sam with a huff. She blew a dark brunette curl from falling into her face. Then, her eyes fell on you and a smile so wide lit up her features. She quickly moved to the chair beside you, grinning ear to ear.

She told you how much she had been hearing about you from Steve – your name redacted until now to preserve your identity, of course – and from Bucky as well in their weekly Sunday night dinners. You smiled at that, thinking of Bucky spending his Sunday evenings with a married couple, sharing a meal, probably watching a movie and having a decent liquor for once. It was the kind of normalcy you didn’t have growing up.

“I’m so happy he found you,” Peggy concluded after a long ramble about Bucky’s apparently uneventful romantic history outside of the ‘ghastly’ woman named Dolores who had broken his heart a few years prior.

“Not sure he’d say that right about now,” you sighed, eyes glancing down towards the double doors. “Meeting me brought him a lot of trouble.”

“Maybe he needed a little more excitement in his life,” Peggy shrugged, her hand snaking into yours. Soft skin brushing gently over the dried cracks on the back of your hand. Red nail polish against paled skin.

“He lost a lot of blood. You didn’t see him, Peggy. He might not make it,” you whispered, finding yourself slumping down to lean against her shoulder. Peggy nodded, bringing your intertwined hand into her lap.

“He’s stronger than he looks... and he looks pretty strong,” she reminded you softly, an airy laugh in her voice. “He’s got something to fight for out here. If I know anything about that man, it’s that he’s about as stubborn as his best friend and he won’t let you go for anything.”

***

Sharon came by twice more with updates and you had lost track of time. The sun had risen enough to fill the waiting area with a glow of light through the windows. Sam was hiding from it beneath his jacket draped over his face as he curled up against the wall. These chairs didn’t allow for comfortable sleep, but it seemed like he was doing just fine. His light snoring was evident of that, at least.

Peggy and Steve were talking quietly with one another; everything from what was on the grocery list for the week to when they’ll find time to visit England to see her parents. Peggy led the conversations, asking the questions. She must have known that Steve needed a sense of normalcy. Even a police captain had best friends he was terrified of losing. It was nice to know he had someone looking out for him. This petite, brass, charming Englishwoman took care of him as if he weren’t twice anyone’s size and standing a foot above the rest.

The soft buzz of the tv filled the otherwise tensely silent room. A blonde news anchor dressed in a sharp red blazer sat behind a desk with several sheets of paper ahead of her, a pen twirling in her right hand. To her left was an image of the intersection where the crossfire took place, followed by Rumlow and Ward’s mugshots. Then, the screen changed to a video of Sam’s impala flipped on its roof, flames bursting from the engine. It appeared like it was shot on a cell phone from the vertical alignment and the blurred shakiness of whoever was recording it. The screen rushed between glimpses of Sam dragging Peter out from inside the burning car to Nat firing shots at the Hydra men. It switched to a scene of Bucky, Nat, and Sam slowly lowering themselves to the ground as you were held hostage, gun pressed to your temple.

The anchor came back on screen, a solemn look on her face as the small image on her left showed the front view of the hospital. You gritted your teeth and turned away.

After the news had transitioned into a cooking show and then into a morning talk show you’d never heard of, a few officers you hadn’t seen around the station had begun to straggle into the waiting room.

Detective Clint Barton, the one you had learned from Sam had arrested Rumlow and Ward, was currently sitting in the corner of the room with his feet kicked up, watching the mid-afternoon talk show on the small, grainy tv screen bolted to the wall. He was on his second bad of chips from the vending machine.

Dr. Bruce Banner, the one-four's forensic psychologist, was pacing back and forth by the windows. His messy curls bouncing with each step. Peggy had whispered to you that he and Natasha had a bit of a history, which surprised you for only a moment before you remembered that beneath her hardened exterior was one of the kindest, warmest people you knew.

Peter’s Aunt May was sitting by herself, hands in her face, for the last hour. She brushed off anyone that came near, claiming she just knew he’d get himself into this mess and she didn’t want comfort from those who got him there.

You’d learned Bucky’s sister, Rebecca, was out of state for college and his mother had broken down completely on the porch of her house when the officers arrived to inform her of his condition. She couldn’t leave her home in that state, so Steve had them track down a cousin of hers to stay with her until they had more news.

You’d met Thor and Loki, an odd pair who claimed to be brothers despite their polar opposite appearance and general demeanor in which they carried themselves. They called themselves private investigators but Sam grumbled something about them being ‘amateur Nancy Drews’ under his breath.

Even Tony Stark was standing over in the corner, talking quietly into his cellphone.

Then, a woman who demanded the attention of the entire room when she walked through the elevator doors took a seat next to you. She gave you a knowing smile before settling in. You’d later learn her name was Carol Danvers. She was a Sergeant at the one-four and despite her small frame, much like Natasha, she carried the energy of a someone twice her size. She nudged your shoulder lightly, grabbing your attention.

“Barton handed Rumlow and Ward over to me for processing,” she started, a smirk upon her lips. “Just thought you’d like to know that I roughed them up a bit in the interrogation room. Those Hydra scum will turn on one another real quick if they figure they can get one in for themselves. Idiots. Can’t believe they thought we’d actually cut them a deal.”

You laugh slightly behind pressed lips, lifting your head from Peggy’s shoulder. There was a strain in your muscle in the movement and you reached up to massage it.

“So, they’re secure where they are?” you asked apprehensively, stealing a glance back at Steve, who nodded slightly for you, indicating Carol was safe. “One of their moles can’t just let them out while we’re here?”

Carol smiled, shaking her head. “I locked up their cells myself and took all the spares with me. Plus, I’ve got a guy standing guard. Pietro Maximoff. He may be a rookie, but nothing gets past that kid. Too quick.”

You nodded, feeling slightly relieved and a bit satisfied to know Rumlow and Ward had been on the end of Carol’s bad side. She started to tell you stories from the one-four, ones where Bucky and Steve had gotten in serious heat with the previous captain, that made you smile despite the exhaustion. Your eyes glanced down at the double doors a little less often now that she was around.

***

A light tap on your shoulder woke you carefully. You lift your head to find you had fallen asleep on Peggy’s lap. Her hands were running softly through your hair and she offered you a smile as she gestured across the room. You lift your head from her thigh, combing self-consciously through your hair with your fingers as your eyes narrowed on a woman emerging through the double doors at the end of the hall.

Light teal scrubs and auburn hair drawn back away from her face in a ponytail. She discarded her plastic gloves at the edge of the door and you tried to ignore the blood that covered the blue material. She pushed through the doors, eyes scanning the room until she landed on Steve.

“Captain Rogers. You’re Detective Barnes’ emergency contact, is that right?” she asked, weaving through the dozens of officers and members of the one-four who had come to sit in wait for their colleagues.

Steve stood quickly, wiping his hands on his slacks. “Dr. Palmer?”

She nodded. “Detective Barnes lost quite a lot of blood and it was a challenge to piece together his internal wiring from the intrusive trauma, but we managed. He’ll be in the ICU for a while, but he’s tough. I expect he’ll make a full recovery.”

Peggy squeezed your hand and you nearly burst into tears.

“He’ll have significant scarring,” Dr. Palmer went on to add. “There wasn’t much we could do for that I’m afraid.”

“When can we see him?” Steve asked after considering what she said.

Dr. Palmer looked around the room. “While I’m sure he appreciates the turnout, I’m afraid we can only allow immediate family right now. He’s not stable enough for much else.”

Your heart dropped. Steve glanced down at you, unsure of what to say.

“We are his family,” Steve pressed, shaking his head, at a loss. Dr. Palmer pressed her lips together into a thin line. The regret was evident on her face.

“Ms. Barnes?”

Your eyes snapped up to find Sharon jogging in from behind the double doors. She smiled softly at you, sending you a wink before she came up to stand next to Dr. Palmer.

“I can take Ms. Barnes back to see her husband, now,” Sharon offered.

“Oh, I didn’t realize Detective Barnes was married. I must have missed that in the chart,” Dr. Palmer said, nodding her head. The knowing look in her eyes made you wonder if she knew exactly what Sharon was doing. She smiled at you then and you knew she did.

“He’s still under the anesthesia but he should wake soon,” Dr. Palmer said, directly to you now. “I’ll let Sharon walk you back. Once he’s stable enough, I’ll be sure to let your crew know. We’ll have to sort out a shift system. Don’t want to overwhelm the poor man.”

Steve smiled at that, sitting back into the chair as Peggy ushered you to your feet. She urged you on, waving at you to follow Sharon, but your legs felt like jelly. You clenched your jaw, staring down at the double doors.

Sharon offered you her arm for support and you took it graciously. She led you through the mass of officers and they backed slowly to the sides, allowing a passage through. Once the double doors closed behind you, you glanced over your shoulder to see Steve giving you a slight nod, half of an encouraging smile lifting his cheeks. You exhaled and continued on.

“Now, I want to prepare you,” Sharon began and you could already feel your stomach dropping. “The bruising is darker and more spread out than when he came in, so don’t be alarmed. He’ll have some bandaging on his right hand, his left shoulder, and around his waist. Someone will be by to change those once every few hours. We’ve already removed the respiratory tube from surgery, so don’t worry about having to see that, alright?”

You nodded, trying to take in her words the best you could. Then, she pulled you to a stop outside room 1189. Bucky’s name was scribbled in messy handwriting on the whiteboard underneath. Someone had thought to write “NYPD” just below his name. Somehow, it brought you comfort.

“I’ll work on getting someone in to see Detective Romanoff as well,” Sharon added. “She’ll be waking soon and our staff hates this ‘family only’ rule just as much as you all do.”

She smiled at you, nudging your shoulder. A semblance of a smile pulled at your lips, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. She reached forward and turned the knob to Bucky’s room, stepping aside to give you the space you needed and disappearing back down the hall.

Slowly, you stepped inside the room. It was brighter than you imagined, light seeping in from the massive windows giving view to the towers across the street. White walls, beige tile floors, the faint smell of fresh sheets and sterilized surfaces. The soft beeping of a machine with a red line ticking up and down and it ran across the screen. Wires connecting down from the monitor to the bed where Bucky laid.

Yours hands reached up to cover your mouth as you finally took him in. Stumbling over to the chair by his bedside, you collapsed into it, shaking hands reaching to grab his. A thick plastic clasp sat over his pointer finger, wires connecting it to the monitor above you. You brought his hand to your lips and kissed his still broken knuckles.

Bandages covered his left shoulder, one wrapped around his stomach, another encasing his hand furthest from you. Broken pieces tied together with gauze and thread.

Your cheeks were wet with tears as you glanced over at his face. His lip was busted down the middle. Blue and purple covered more of his skin than not. Swollen eyelid and cheekbone, angry blue veins protruding to the surface. You tried to imagine he was only asleep, that is wasn’t just the anesthesia keeping him sedated, but you knew better than this. You’d seen the peaceful way he lied on his bed in the early hours of the morning, the almost boyish look in his face as he scrunched his nose in his sleep, the endearing mess of bedhead he’d wake up to. It wasn’t the same.

Exhausted, you leaned forward until your forehead rested against the bed. It was so soft, almost like a pillow and you could feel yourself giving into it. You wrapped your arms under your head, hunching over the bed as you dragged the chair closer with a hook of your foot. Gripped Bucky’s hand in yours, you let yourself find rest.

What felt like only seconds later, but had likely been almost an hour, you hummed contently as a tender pressure ran over your scalp, running through your hair, and lulling you back to sleep. You nuzzled in closer, shiftily slight to lean into the feeling. As raspy chuckle fell on your ears and you sprang up, eyes wide only, heart pounding, only to be met with the most beautiful shades of blue you’d ever seen.

You froze completely, just staring at him, petrified that if you even blinked, he’d disappear. Having noticed the fear etched in your features, he offered you a sad smile. You could practically feel him scanning you for further injury, eyes falling over the cut on your cheek for a moment too long. He licked at his lips when he met your eyes again.

“Hiya, doll,” he exhaled, his voice coming out in only a whisper but certainly the loveliest sound you’d ever heard. He started to cough abruptly and you lunged for the water at his bedside, pouring a glass for him and holding it up to his lips. He took a small sip, nodded that he was finished, and you pulled it away.

He sighed, glancing around the room. “I hope us being here means Hydra didn’t win this round.”

“Rumlow and Ward were arrested when they showed up at the bar,” you confirmed quickly and his eyes narrowed quizzically. You continued, “Steve has the chip from my necklace, too.”

Bucky shook his head, leaning back against the pillow. “It’s too easy.”

A humorless laugh escaped you. “That’s what I said. Sam thinks I should work on accepting good things when they come.”

“Yeah, well, Sam’s too optimistic for his own good,” Bucky grumbled, though he raised a genuine smile for you despite the crack in his lips. It made your heart flutter. He sighed, trying to adjust himself on the bed but winced at the effort. You rushed forward to help him, though you found your hands hovering over him, almost afraid to touch him. If he noticed your hesitancy, he didn’t say anything.

Once he settled, he let out a heavy exhale. His eyes fell on you as you pulled his hand back to your lap, drawing patterns in his palm. Several moments of comfortable silence passed, save for your soft humming. He watched you carefully, almost like he was studying you, trying to memorize you, before he spoke again.

“Are you okay, doll?” Bucky asked cautiously and you could practically hear the guilt beginning to build in his voice.

“We’re here and they’re not,” you shrugged, pulling to press a kiss to the back of his hand. You set your intertwined hands into your lap and slowly met his eye. “That’s all that matters right now.”

He didn’t seem convinced, his gaze caught on the scar running over your cheekbone. “Y/n, I’m so--”

“Don’t do this again, please,” you sighed. When his eyes fell away from you, you reached forward to brush his hair from his eyes, tracing your fingers carefully along the scruff of his beard. He leaned into it. “I’m okay. You’re okay. We’ll deal with the trauma later, alright?”

Bucky chuckled softly at that though when a silence took over again, it took a minute before he looked up at you nervously. “So, there’s a later, huh? Now that this is over?”

The way he asked you, trying to cover his fretfulness through the banter in his voice, made your heart ache. He wasn’t asking to tease you. He was sincere in his uncertainty and that, above all else, hurt more than anything.

“Did you think I’d leave once Hydra was no longer a threat to my life?” you asked, watching the way his eyes flickered down to your intertwined hands, then to the door.

“I don’t know. Maybe,” Bucky shrugged shyly. “Adrenaline can be a hell of a drug. Not to mention, you’re pretty hard to read, sweetheart.”

“Well, you’re stuck with me,” you replied quickly, kissing his hand. You brushed his knuckles over your cheek and his opened his palm to rest against the side of your face. You held it there, leaning into him as his thumb traced delicately under the angry red scar.

“I’m not going anywhere, Bucky,” you reminded him, more serious this time as you said it. You needed him to know, to understand that there wasn’t a single thing on this Earth that could take you from him now. Bucky nodded, a smile curving at the ends of his lips as he sighed, seemingly content to just watch you.

You kissed the inside of his palm, drawing his hand from your face and pulling it to sit in your lap again. You flashed him a smirk and he raised an eyebrow playfully.

“I suppose you should get used to your shitty bourbon, Barnes.”

He let out a laugh-- a genuine, boisterous laugh-- and the sound alone made your heart swell. You weren’t sure you’d ever get used to that. You hoped you never did.

***

With the help of Sharon, Bucky’s room had become a revolving door of visitors. You kept his hand woven in your own as you sat next to his bed side. He had requested to see Clint and Carol first, after you informed him that they were the last ones to have contact with Rumlow and Ward since the arrest. He grilled them for almost an hour before he finally took a breath and relaxed, accepting that maybe they’d finally won a round against Hydra for once.

Clint, you found, was somehow more of a sarcastic shit than Sam was, and you grew a liking to him quickly. Carol took Bucky’s questions in stride, replying in quick, short responses, just enough to get to the point. She barely even batted an eye.

Then came a steady stream of the officers you’d hadn’t met before. Men and women in blue uniform, some from the one-four, others from different precincts over the city. It seemed the NYPD showed up for one of its own regardless of district. They only stayed to wish him well or bring by flowers to sit on the windowsill. Tight lipped smiles and nervous glances in your direction and then they were out the door.

Almost two hours later when Steve and Peggy finally walked through the door, hand in hand, you slumped back against the side of Bucky’s bed in relief. Peggy scurried over quickly to give a light hug to Bucky and an aired kiss to his cheek before she pulled up a chair next to you. Steve hung behind in the doorway, leaning against the frame as he looked Bucky over. He shook his head, pursing his lips into a frown.

“You gotta learn to stay out of trouble, punk,” Steve chuckled under his breath.

“Only if you do, jerk.” Bucky smirked, eyes on his oldest friend until he walked the room to reach out to shake his hand. Steve was cautious as he gripped Bucky’s hand and Bucky must have noticed it because with one hard yank, he pulled Steve down into a hug. A wince passed over his face as he patted Steve’s back, likely from the heavy weight of the captain, but he didn’t complain. Steve laughed, pulling himself up and moving to lean against the wall.

“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?” Steve teased, the relief on his face as evident as you felt.

“Is someone making fun of Barnes? I want in,” Sam’s voice called from a few paces beyond the door, but he wasn’t the next face you saw come through the frame.

“You’re all insufferable. Just so you know,” Nat rolled her eyes, leaning on the armrest of the wheelchair Sam was pushing. Her leg was propped up, held at a ninety-degree angle, with heavy bandages and splints holding it in place. Other than that, you never would have known she had just come out of surgery; gorgeous without even an ounce of makeup and soft fiery hair that never seemed out of place.

She winked at you as Sam locked the wheels on her chair next to Peggy. You reached over her and gripped her hand. You wanted to tell her you were sorry she ended up in the crosshairs of a Hydra stand off for you and that you were thankful she was alive. You wanted her to know that even when this was over, you still wanted to be friends. You hoped she felt the same way. Natasha had the uncanny ability to read minds with a single look. She nodded, a knowing smile on her lips, understanding perfectly.

“Gang’s all here,” Bucky chuckled to himself, squeezing your hand. A silence fell over the room and you lowered your head. You could feel Bucky eyeing the room and no one dared to speak. “What?”

“Parker’s still in surgery,” Sam finally said. Bucky’s lips parted in shock. “He got the worst of the explosion. Burned pretty bad and his leg got impaled with a piece of the car door. He’s got a long road ahead of him, but I hear the doc’s optimistic about his recovery.”

Bucky nodded and you could feel his heartrate picking up beneath his pulse point. “He’s just a kid. We never should have let him get involved with this.”

“Parker is a fully trained officer,” Steve said, serious enough tone in his voice to remind you that he was still the captain of this precinct. “He looks young and he’s got the energy of someone half his age, but he’s qualified and capable of doing his job; a job he volunteered for, by the way. You didn’t force him into this. He knew exactly what he was signing up for.”

Steve reached out to put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder but withdrew quickly when his fingers brushed over the series of bandages. Steve swallowed, folding his arms over his chest. Bucky let out a heavy sigh, pressing his lips to a thin line. He stole a glance at you, the tension falling from his face. He pulled your hand to his lips and kissed it.

***

As the hours passed by and the sun began to fall over the city line, the small, white hospital room echoed the sounds of laughter down the hallways and hushed snickering under breaths when the older nurse from the front desk hushed the room. No one showed any signs of leaving, despite the visiting hours closing in the next hour.

Sam had taken a seat at the end of Bucky’s bed, rolling his eyes when Bucky tried to swat him away and saying something like ‘I got shot for you, move the hell over’. Nat was sitting comfortably in her wheelchair, resting one foot on the edge of the bed as she listened intently to Sam and Bucky’s constant bickering, a sly comment said under her breath every once in a while that always got you laughing before anyone knew what was happening. Steve had taken a seat on the windowsill, his feet still touching the ground and you caught him watching Peggy with the kind of gentle bewonder you often saw in Bucky’s eyes.

“Sam, that’s the third time I’ve heard your stomach growl,” Nat observed in a flat toned comment, raising in eyebrow when his hand began to pat at his stomach.

“Damn, I don’t even remember the last time I ate,” Sam said and the grumble of his stomach rang out again.

“I’ll go get some stuff from the vending machine,” you offered, rising quickly from your chair. Bucky squeezed your hand as you tried to pull away. You glanced back at him and the apprehension on his features was enough to tug at your heart.

“Let Sam go,” Bucky urged and Sam narrowed his eyes as if staring darts.

“Sam’s got a stab wound in his forearm and a bullet in his shoulder,” you teased light-heatedly.

“Ok, what about Steve?”

“Sure, I can go,” Steve agreed, jumping off from the window ledge.

“Guys, stop,” you laughed. “I can handle it myself. Just relax. I’ll be back in five.”

You sent Steve a playful glare when he didn’t back down and he eventually sat back on the ledge. Bucky sighed and you could see the concern behind his eyes. You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, feeling him instantly relax against you as your hand ran gently over the back of the short hairs on the nape of his neck.

“Five minutes,” you reminded him again. He nodded slowly, though it looked like the very idea of being away from you for even a moment was agonizing.

You squeezed your way past Peggy’s chair and around Nat’s leg propped up the bed. As you turned down the hall, you could still hear Sam’s boisterous laughter until you passed through the double doors.

The older nurse was standing at the front desk, the corded phone sitting between her ear and shoulder as she scribbled on a notebook, nodding her head and rolling her eyes with each ‘uh-huh.’

As you approached the vending machine in the far corner of the room, she slammed the phone on the receiver and quickly stormed to the back room. You chuckled under your breath, shaking you head. You pulled a few tens from your pocket and eyed up your choices for dinner. Doritos, cheese crackers, potato chips, trail mix, chocolate bars, Cheetos. Sounded good enough to you.

“Not the most nutritious of meals, don’t you think?” a man’s voice said from behind, startling you enough to whip around and clutch at your heart, hand searching instinctively for the necklace you no longer wore. When you saw a black suit-jacket affixed with gold buttons and a shiny NYPD badge with a series of colorful badges pinned on his left breast pocket, you began to relax.

“You scared me,” you exhaled, laughing to yourself.

“My apologies ma’am,” he said, offering you a pleasant smile as he removed his rounded glassed, wiping them on the edge of his jacket before he set them against the bridge of his nose. His sandy blonde hair swept over to the left in short wisps. Over his shoulder an officer you didn’t recognized emerged from the elevators.

“Commissioner Pierce,” the officer greeted, removing his cap in a nod before moving to stand by the double doors. Something about the way he stood guard, his back to the doors, facing you, made you feel uneasy. If he was guarding the commissioner, shouldn’t he be facing potential entry points?

The man in the suit jacket, Commissioner Pierce, pressed out a smile at you as you turned back to the vending machine. Something was wrong. You could feel it in your bones. He cleared his throat behind you and you clenched your jaw, turning to face him again.

“Actually, my dear,” he began and the tone in his voice made you shiver, “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind taking a few moments to speak with me about the last twenty-four hours. I’ve been made aware that you haven’t given a statement yet and I’d like to make sure we have it on the books before your memory becomes… unreliable.”

“That’s a little below a commissioner's pay grade, isn’t it?” you asked slowly, careful to keep your voice light as not to cause suspicion. You eyed the officer standing at the double doors. His hand held steady on the firearm attached to his hip.

Pierce chuckled to himself, head bowing for a moment before he met your eye again. “I take initiative on the ground every once in a while. Keeps me humble. Especially in cases such as yours. With one of our own feeding information to Hydra, we must stay vigilant. Don’t you agree?”

“Of course,” you forced out a smile, clenching you jaw to hide the influx in your heart rate. You turned back to the machine, watching Pierce’s reflection in the glass. “I’ll be sure to let one of the officers know as soon as I bring back some food. They’re expecting me back any minute.”

As you slid the first bill into the machine, you felt a sharp, solid pressure jab into your lower back. Eyes closed as you exhaled; some kind of twisted acceptance washing over you. Pierce leaned in close enough to feel his breath on your ear.

“I tried to make this easy for you, Y/n,” he tsked, pushing the barrel of the gun hard enough into your side to elicit a wince. You took a deep breath, ready to scream and damn the consequences when Pierce clamped a hand over your mouth. “If you make a single sound, I’ll have of the nurses on my payroll shoot up your precious detective with Fentanyl.”

You froze, breath caught in your throat. From behind the desk, a nurse you didn’t recognize was pulling a syringe from the drawer. She eyed you with a wicked kind of smirk before she walked over to the double doors, standing next to the officer as if on guard, awaiting orders. Pierce slowly lowered his hand.

“Good girl,” he praised against your ear and you recoiled away from his touch. He chuckled under his breath at your reaction, clearly amused. He then nodded for the officer at the door to follow as he put a hand on your shoulder, gripping hard enough to draw bruising. He led you towards the elevator doors where the officer had already tapped the now illuminated arrow pointing to the floor.

You glanced down the window through the double doors after the nurse retreated back to her station, twirling the syringe in her hand. The hall beyond the doors was entirely empty. Steve was the only armed officer without a major injury and there was no way you’d be able to call for him before Pierce could get a fatal bullet in you and that nurse could dose Bucky amongst the chaos.

This was it.

You should have known better than to trust things would end so easily for you. Your life had never bene easy so why would this? The moment it crossed your mind you might actually have a happy ending to this nightmare of a chapter in your life, you should have known it was too good to be true. You’d gained too many friends, learned to find a family again amongst the late nights at the bar and 24/7 guard duty. And Bucky ---

Bucky was too kind, too loving and sweet and reassuring. He treated you with a gentle kind of sincerity you hadn’t known in years and a constant unbreakable need to keep you safe from harm. You’d let yourself grow to love him in a way you’d never loved another person. In such a short period of time, you’d happily given a piece of your heart away with the assured trust that he’d handle it with care.

You realized suddenly you already said your last goodbye to Bucky, to the makeshift family at the one-four who adopted you so willingly. You’d already poured his last drink, had your last walk through the city in the early hours of the morning, shrugged off his last flirty comment that got your heart racing, and seen his last smile. You’d already kissed him for the last time, already squeezed his hand for the last time, touched him for the last time, told him you --

Well, you’d only told him you loved him once, hadn’t you? It felt like centuries ago. Did he still know? Would he still know once this was over?

You weren’t sure.

You supposed you’d never find out.

The elevator dinged and the metal doors parted. Pierce shoved you inside with the brunt of the gun and you stumbled into the small space. He pressed the button for the ground floor as the officer stood on your other side, hand still on his weapon as if he expected to use it.

A lifetime seemed to pass by as the red LED numbers at the top of the wall counted down. Your focus blurred on the silver doors, studying the ticks and scratches amongst the metal as you tried to avoid your own reflection.

When the doors slid open, Pierce shoved you forward into what looked like the parking garage under the hospital.

“Get her in the car,” Pierce ordered the officer, sliding his gun back into the waist of his suit pants. The officer grabbed a tight hold of your arm, enough to hurt as he yanked you towards him.

There was no use fighting him. You weren’t physically strong enough to overpower him, especially not with a gun in his hand. Pierce gestured toward a black car sitting just a few spaces away. You nearly tripped over a stray rock in the pavement and the officer cursed at you under harsh breaths, raising his hand as if to strike you when --

“Let her go!”

The officer hulled you to his chest, your back slamming roughly against him as the gun pressed to your side. God, this was familiar, wasn’t it?

Steve stood by the exit to the stairs, panting heavily as he aimed his weapon at Pierce. Pierce slowly turned around, a laugh on his tongue, almost as if he was expecting this.

“I know who you really work for, Pierce!” Steve shouted his voice echoing through the garage. “I know where your allegiance lies. I’ve seen the file. It’s over! Turn yourself in while you can!”

“Frankly, Rogers, I’m a little surprised it took you this long,” Pierce replied smugly, not even bothering to deny it. Steve’s eye glanced at you, flickering over for only a moment, just long enough to catch your nod, signaling that you were okay, before turned his attention back to Pierce.

“Let Y/n go and maybe we can arrange a deal,” Steve bargained. An angry tension carried in his tone and you wondered if he was sincere in his words. The sharp narrowing of his eyes suggested otherwise.

“I don’t want your deal, Rogers,” Pierce spat, swatting his hand in the air at Steve. “You know nothing of Hydra if you think we care for anything but the bigger picture. I am willing to sacrifice my life for the cause. Are you?” He glanced over towards you, a smirk on his face as he turned back to Steve. “Is she?”

“Ward and Rumlow turned on each other pretty easy.”

“They were henchmen at best,” Pierce dismissed, rolling his eyes. He was pacing freely, walking casually as if he wasn’t in the middle of a hostage situation.

“You have nothing!” Steve shouted. “The Hydra informant list was sent to the station hours ago. It’s over, Pierce. You have no reason to take her.”

“There’s still revenge, isn’t there?” Pierce shrugged, whipping out his gun in one smooth movement and aiming it in your direction. There wasn’t enough time to close your eyes before a loud ringing echoed through the garage, but it wasn’t any of the weapons’ discharge.

You looked towards the source of the noise to find the stairwell door slammed against the adjacent wall and a fuming Bucky Barnes racing through the frame, clad only in the light grey sweatpants Peggy had brought for him, bare feet, and bandages covering most of his torso. Sam rushed in behind him.

Bucky was panting heavily as he exchanged a look with Steve who only shot him a warning glare in return. He faltered slightly in his stance and Sam quickly ushered himself under Bucky’s good arm, keeping him steady.

“Great,” Pierce mumbled. “Now that everyone’s here…”

Pierce continued talking but you could hear much of it. It was clear none of the three men standing just fifty feet away from you were either as they talked amongst themselves quickly, eyeing one another up between glances back to Pierce. Pierce was pacing, monologuing about the ‘glory of Hydra’ when you notice Bucky gesturing for Steve’s gun. Steve shook his head, retuning his gaze to Pierce, the barrel of his gun swaying back and forth as the man paced.

Bucky gritted his teeth, his eyes falling on you. There was a determination behind them you recognized from the intersection the last time a Hydra agent held a gun to you, though you could tell with a single glance that he wasn’t getting on his knees. Not again.

He held your eye, mouthing something to you that looked a little like ‘it’s gonna be okay.’ You scanned over at Pierce who was still managing to talk without any prompting. The officer holding you seemed to be getting a little bored with his commissioner’s speech because his grip slowly started to loosen.

Then, all at once, Bucky snaked his good hand around Sam’s waist and pulled the gun from the holster, barrel aimed directly at you. Pierce froze, shouting something you couldn’t quite understand as a deafening shot rang out in your ears. You yelped and a wet substance splattered over the side of your face, soaking into your hair. The officer fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

Another shot echoed through the garage and Pierce let out a shriek, his gun falling from his hand as he gripped at the now bloody surface of his palm. You looked over to Steve, who was holstering his weapon, pleased with his aim.

Bucky was sprinting towards you; Sam close behind. Their footsteps were muffled by the deafening ringing in your ears. You glanced down at the officer, his eyes wide, unstaring, as a bullet sat wedged between his eyes. Without thinking much of it, you bent down, and picked up the handgun that he had held against you. It was warm to the touch.

“Y/n,” Bucky panted, reaching quickly to gather you in his arms when you abruptly snapped your attention to Pierce, aiming the gun at his chest. Pierce held his hands up in surrender, though he kept them clasped together, blood dripping down his forearms from the bullet that had ripped through his palm.

“Get on your knees,” you growled, a snarl twitching at your upper lip. Pierce’s eyes fell on Bucky, then Steve as he ran up to stand next to you, almost as if he was begging them for interference. It riled up a kind of anger in you too difficult to control.

“Don’t look at them! Look at me!”

Pierce’s gaze snapped back to you in an instant.

“Y/n,” Bucky’s voice called softly behind you. “Doll, please, give me the gun. You don’t wanna do this.”

“No. I do,” you nodded your head frantically, tears welling in your eyes. “He’s behind all of this! He gave the order for Charlie’s death. He sicked Rumlow on us. He’s the reason Sam and Nat were shot and you were tortured for information I didn’t even know existed! Peter’s fighting for his life because of this asshole! He deserves to die!”

Pierce winced as you stepped closer. The sharp click of the safety as it unlocked was thunderous.

“I know,” Bucky admitted, a hesitancy behind his voice. “You’re right, but please, not by your hand. It’s not something you come back from. Doll, I’m begging you. Don’t let him take anything else from you.”

You clenched at your jaw, willing yourself to not cry as you stared down this man. He wasn’t as powerful as he made himself to be when he was staring down the end of a gun. He was a weak, pathetic, feeble man and he was at your mercy alone. You met his eye, providing nothing for him but the cool numbness he had forced onto you and then, you fired.

Two shots.

One at each knee cap.

Pierce cried out, dropping to the ground and rolling onto his side. The garage echoed with his pained shouts, but you couldn’t hear much of it beyond the ringing in your ears from the discharge of the gun. You stepped backwards, bumping into Bucky’s chest.

His hands brushed over your arms, holding you steady. When you didn’t flinch at the touch, he skimmed his hand down to yours and gingerly pulled the gun from your hand, passing it off to Sam. You let it go willingly. Steve had meanwhile rushed forward and yanked Pierce’s hands behind his back, cuffing him, before he pulled out his phone to call for reinforcements.

You could vaguely make out Bucky calling your name softly but you couldn’t seem to bring your focus away from Pierce. This man, this insignificant man, who hadn’t even existed in your life less than twenty minutes ago had spent the last few months upending your entire world. From behind the shadows, he stood, watching, waiting, for the prime opportunity.

Dark red pooled around the concrete around him and he was complaining to Steve that he needed a doctor. Steve grunted, rolling his eyes, and told him something you can only assume was ‘you’ll live.’

“Sweetheart,” Bucky’s voiced ached, his hand tracing over the line of your jaw. “Please, I need you to look at me.”

You blinked a few times in a row. When did he move in front of you? He was watching you with those careful blue eyes of his, drawing and scanning over every ounce of your face in hopes to find some sort of sign that you were in there somewhere. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. You looked down, focus caught on the red stain growing upon the thick bandage wrapped at his waist.

“You tore your stitches,” you commented meekly, eyes finally reaching up to his. A sigh of relief pushed up the corners of Bucky’s lips and he nodded, glancing at the stain himself.

“Wasn’t gonna let some Hydra asshole take my girl again,” Bucky shrugged, his thumb brushing under the scar on your cheek. You leaned subconsciously into the touch and he smiled sweetly at you. “The second Steve took off runnin’, you should have seen the trail of nurses behind me after I ripped out my heart monitor and the IV drip. It’s a good thing my legs still work, huh?”

“’Good thing’, my ass,” Sam grumbled behind him, shaking his head as he holstered the weapon Bucky had confiscated in the chaos.

You chuckled under your breath as Bucky shot Sam a glare over his shoulder. You tiled your face slightly, just enough to kiss the inside of his palm. He turned back to you upon the feeling.

“It’s over, isn’t it?” you asked carefully, glancing over at Pierce for a moment before returning to Bucky. He nodded, pulling you into his arms. The gentle touch of his lips pressed against your forehead as you wrapped your arms tight around his waist. He held onto you like you were his only lifeline.

“Yeah, doll,” he sighed, his breath warm over the crown of your head. “It’s over.”

He didn’t let go of you even as the siren’s wailed throughout the garage and the blue and red lighting illuminated the dingy underground lot. You stole a glance over at Pierce, ear pressed to Bucky’s chest and listening intently to the sound of his heart beat to keep you grounded, as Steve ushered him into the back of the police car. The door slammed behind him and a wave of relief washed over you.

Once Steve jumped in the driver’s seat to escort Pierce and the line of four other cars back to the station, the garage had fallen silent.

“So, now that I have a moment with you alone,” Bucky smirked, pulling back a moment to get a better look at you.

“Oh God, please spare me,” Sam grunted from a few paces behind Bucky’s shoulder and your cheeks flushed red. He was leaning against a car that clearly didn’t belong to him, good arm folded over his chest as he shook his head. “You just tore open that nasty stab wound the good doc spent hours piecing back together. If you drop dead because you bled out in some disgusting parking lot for a kiss, I will lose my damn mind. Need I remind you, I got shot for your sorry ass.”

Bucky was staring at you the whole time Sam spoke, biting on his lip to keep himself from laughing, though the subtle shake in his shoulders was enough to alert Sam.

“Fine!” Sam snorted, “You got five minutes before I sent the brigade after you. It better be one hell of a kiss, Barnes!”

Sam’s heavy footsteps echoed in the garage as he made his way to the elevator. You were watching him wait rather impatiently for the doors to open when you felt Bucky’s fingers under your jaw drawing your attention back to him. He set his both his hands against your cheeks and you could feel the soft bandage wrapped around his palm where the knife had pierced through. He exhaled, big blue eyes staring down at you as his lips curved ever so slightly.

“It will be.”

epilogue

tags 🐣: @sweetheartbarnes / @musiclover1263 / @pies-wands-and-more / @buckygrantbarnes / @mywinterwolf / @breatheeagainnnn / @jewelofwinter / @lumar014 / @alohafromhell1 / @bucksandroses / @teardropcup / @beautiful-aravis / @me-chi / @somewereinthegalaxi / @marvelfansworld / @whyamidoingthistomyselfhelp / @deanwinchesterswitch / @yourwonderbelle / @fairislesheets / @brokeinflight / @verygraphicink / @lollipopdomination / @emotionallysalty / @forsaken-letters / @captain-hammer-of-asgard / @ashlieadelia / @kasimagines / @ladymelissastark/ @panic-naran / @pinkisokay / @jsmith509 / @hennessy0274-blog / @littlemsrantsalot / @bucky-rrogers / @the-wayward-robot

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #marvel #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic #reader insert #my writing #bucky fic #the witness

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capricornus-rex · 5 years

Text

A Test of Wills (5)

Requested by Anon. Prompt:

What about...Cal x reader fic, getting stuck on Jakku because the Mantis needs repairs?

Cal Kestis x Reader

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 6 | Masterlist

5 of ?

You kissed Cal on the forehead and you called for Rani to take him out to the ring. The spectators gave way as you gently pushed Cal out of the ring and handed him over to Rani.

“Mind his head,” you stammered.

“I got him, I got him,” Rani said as she caught the wounded boy in her arms. She wrung his arm around her shoulders and supported his back with her other hand.

Rani then looked to seeing you in the ring again. She may have spoken highly of you back at the cantina, but tonight, immense concern outweighed her high regard for your prowess.

“What are you going to do, [y/n]?” her voice was shaky, she shuddered at the idea.

“What else?”

“[Y/N], NO!!”

Rani’s call fell to deaf ears. Her voice soon drowned in a sea of barbaric cheers and whoops. It was all that you could hear until the silence faded in.

“Let me take a shot on Four Eyes over there!” you roared.

“Well now, this is an interesting turn of events!”

The Aqualish chortled, underestimating your threat. He took pride in being a defending champion after taking down Cal.

Unkar chuckled, he repeated the rules for you—the same set of rules that he announced when it was Cal in the ring. In the midst of the excitement, you slipped on Cal’s climbing claws—you’ve swiped them off his hands when he was being taken away by Rani.

Your opponent began in the offense, brute strength gravitating to his fist; at the last second, you evaded it with lightning speed, followed by a kick to stagger him and the claws slashed on its exposed chunk for a neck the moment he turned to face you.

“Come on, you scummy lug!” you taunted.

“Go get ‘im, [y/n]!” Rani cheered from the crowd whilst still supporting an unconscious Cal.

He gurgled—possibly saying something to you in his native language—and then charged at you in a bear-hug position, you dodged it by a hair. You rolled over his back while he was still crouched and uppercut his side with the claw. You were suddenly a fan favorite. Each blow from you was repaid with a cheer from the crowd—and the hollering got louder and louder each time you overwhelm the opponent.

The thrill was nostalgic. Every sensation back in that fighting ring came rushing into you like an untamed river current. Your vision narrowed, your periphery was a shimmering blur. He was still on his toes, he still has some life left in him.

But not for long. You thought.

The Aqualish’s hand was covered in blood, he dismissed it as a scratch. You’ve made him angry, though. You let him lunge at you, to which you dodge and then quickly follow up with a punch or a kick. He afforded a few punches on you but you didn’t allow yourself to falter and be overtaken by this creature.

The precise calculation of your moves was your advantage—mixing both Jedi arts and common hand-to-hand combat skills—compared to the opponent’s cantina brawl moves.

Survive—in a way you know how!

A part of you gave a little push until it came to shove. That wild current in your streams flowed again. Energy courses through you—unsure whether it was the Force or your raw willpower—and guided you to every dodge, kick, and punch.

Eventually, you’ve overwhelmed the Aqualish with the swiftness of your moves. He couldn’t keep up to your agile attacks. Every time he would turn to one side to hit you, you’ve already switched and dodged to the other.

There was a graceful viciousness about your form and fighting style. Your evasive maneuvers adopted the gracefulness of the Jedi combative arts, while your offensive attacks were that of a cantina brawler’s caliber.

“Come on! I thought you were a champion!?”

Aqualish gurgled again, the appendage where his mouth should be began to bleed, but he doesn’t seem to be backing down at any moment. The right side of your lip curled upward, shooting a smug face at him, taunting him. It was a common strategy: taunt the enemy until they’ve become reckless enough to lower or disregard their defenses. Surely, a few from the crowd have seen it coming—but perhaps they were too ignorant and blinded by the bloody glory of the ring.

Your opponent managed to throw a series of punches—that you either successfully blocked or dodged—and when his pattern finished, it was your turn to throw some of yours. Your target was his face and neck, with the climbing claws there was sure to be a lot of damage and a considerable amount of blood.

A punch, a jab, and then with a sweeping kick you’ve got your target to the floor.

“This! Is! For! Cal!” you said with each blow you landed.

The thought of ripping his face open was satisfying, but you weren’t that person anymore. You know you’ve won. And you know when to stop.

You pulled away from the Aqualish, cuts were all over his face and mouth appendage; the crowd was jeering at him—at least the ones that didn’t root for him—mockingly tapping the floor as if they were the referee doing the counting. One of Unkar’s thugs had that task. Ten counts later, the bell rang repeatedly—it was almost just as deafening as the crowd’s howls and whooping.

“Looks like scrapper girl is tonight’s star of the show!” Unkar announced.

The crowd showered you in cheers and applause. You did not bask in it, your eyes surveyed for the sight of Cal and Rani in the sea of spectators. Rani could see that your breathing was labored, you were exhausted, your knees could barely hold your weight but you fought it, it was only a matter of time for you to feel your body aching all over—but you couldn’t fall, not until you name your boon.

The applause finally died down. On the top of your lungs, with what little energy you have left in you, you declared your prize.

“Parts and fuel for my ship—that is my boon!”

Unkar Plutt ordered his men to pull out the unconscious Aqualish from the ring. Once the knocked out opponent was out of sight, the Blobfish entered the ring himself—he had to take a special set of small stairs and unlatch one end of the rope so he could enter without getting his body mass stuck between the clotheslines.

“What kind of parts?”

“Hyperspace compressor, power cells, and fifteen tanks of fuel for an S-161 Stinger XL. I name my price: half of its actual grand total.”

“And where did you manage to get yourself a luxury yacht, girlie?”

“And since when did you add “20 Questions” into your program flow?”

A low series of “ooh” rang amongst the crowd. Unkar was impressed with your bark and your bite; he may not have feared you, but you somehow got his respect, as well as the crowd’s.

Without any pressing questions, Unkar ordered his thugs to gather the parts that you asked.

“I want them ready by tomorrow morning,” you demanded.

Exploiting this somewhat flawed system, you took advantage of the boon system in a way that will get you what you needed for less. A part of you felt heavy like an anchor. It was the lingering thought that you were responsible for what happened to Cal. Now, you’re uncertain if what you did was justice—but then again, what is justice in an unforgiving world such as this?

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devnny · 5 years

Text

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

JTRM — THE “R” STANDS FOR RECOVERING!

PREVIOUSLY.

yall im fuck im UFUC im N 💞💗😭💕💖

ITS DEVI LOVING HOURS EVERYBUDDY.....

The twin blades of some well-used craft scissors gleamed as much as they could with the speckles of paint and glue that clung to their surface, as Johnny lifted them up to the extended section of hair above his forehead. His free hand plucked up the pointed tip of the tuft and stretched the hair out fully, then clipped it short with one snip of the scissors. He copied the motion with his other ‘antennae’, and watched the black tendrils fall to the kitchen floor. Poo, he’d need to sweep this up. Devi didn’t accept messy floors the way he did.

His fist gripped another patch of his hair and he sheared away chunks of it at random lengths, as he always did. Johnny had decided after Devi complained that it was his ‘mop’ of messy hair that had disturbed her from her sleep a couple of days ago, that it would need to be cut. It was long overdue, anyway. He hadn’t given himself a haircut since he went partially bald on his return from Hell.

The harsh ring of Devi’s phone interrupted his trimming, and he gave it an aggravated scowl. The phone always seemed to go off when Devi was sleeping – people are so inconsiderate. He set the scissors down on the counter and moved to answer the phone in her place.

Johnny plunked the phone off its rest, and placed it to his ear. Before he could even say ‘hello’, a man’s voice burst to life on the other end.

“DEVI!” The man said in a lively voice. “Devi, baby, why you not call me, hm? You want me to be dead, yes? You like to worry me?”

Johnny’s frown returned with a vengeance.

“Uh.” He grunted out, trying to gather an articulate thing to say from the strings of suspicious words in his head. The man on the other end went quiet a moment, realizing the person he was speaking to was likely not Devi.

“Who is this?” He asked accusingly.

“This is Johnny.” Johnny replied in an irritated tone.

“What—why are you answering her phone, ‘Johnny’-man? WHERE is Devi!?”

Johnny looked at the earpiece with a snarl, then set it back against his head.

“Devi is sleeping. And I live here.” He wanted to add ‘temporarily’, but didn’t feel like this caller needed to know that much. There was an aghast gasp in reply.

“PUT HER ON THE PHONE RIGHT NOW.” The man demanded.

“She’s sleeping—who are you to demand her attention?” Johnny glowered resentfully.

“I am her FATHER.”

Johnny’s mouth disappeared, and he stared wide-eyed at the phone. Her father? He had forgotten all about the fact that most people… have families. He even knew that Devi had a dad; she mentioned him off-handedly a few times when they would talk at the bookstore. But she hadn’t mention him again the whole time he had lived here! He couldn’t be blamed for forgetting the possibility that her family would call for her, could he?

“Oh.” He replied, his voice back to a casual level. “Uh, yes. Okay. I will go get her.”

He set the phone down on the kitchen table and hurried to Devi’s room. With a nervous swallow, he turned the doorknob, and finding it unlocked, made his way inside. Johnny crouched slightly at the side of her bed, watching her sleep for a moment with a guilty expression. He hated to wake her if she needed to rest, especially when he’d already interrupted her sleep once this week.

One of his fingers popped out of his fist to poke at her shoulder a few times.

“Devi, Devi… Devi wake up.” He whispered. “Um, please.”

Her body shifted a little, and she groggily opened one eye to squint at him.

“Nny…” She croaked. “What?”

Johnny looked to the side nervously.

“Your dad is on the phone for you.”

Devi’s eyes opened immediately, and her mouth flattened in mild panic.

“WHAT?” She gasped as she sat up. “He—oh my God, you didn’t answer, did you?”

What a stupid question, she immediately thought, since obviously Johnny would have had to in order to know her father had called. Johnny’s impish smile confirmed that fear, and she groaned in distress before flinging the covers off and rushing to the phone.

Devi held her face in her hands on the couch, her hair sticking out every which way from sleep.

“Why, why, whyyy did you tell him you lived here…” She lamented in overexaggerated anguish, and Johnny pouted shamefully beside her.

“GOD.” Her hands shot down limply, and she frowned at the wall. She hadn’t gotten chewed out like that since she was a teenager – well, as ‘chewed out’ as she could get with her dad being as soft as he was. He was never one for discipline and yelling; his scolding was more akin to him being over-protective, and ranting about if she was being safe, and guilting her for hiding things from him.

Devi sighed tiredly; at least she had managed to convince him that Johnny was just a temporary roommate, a friend down on his luck with nowhere to go. That was true, at least, if not a major understatement.

“Whatever. I’m going back to bed.” She paused. “…Did you cut your hair?”

SOME TIME AFTER:

She was certain now that Meat’s plans were to push Johnny incessantly toward the desire for her touch – there was just no way it could be anything else. After a week or two with more observation, Devi had awoken to find Johnny in her bed a few more times; never as tightly cuddled against her as the first instance, but curled up in a little paranoid ball near her all the same.

Each time he would express having nodded off only to be met with gruesome figments of his own imagination – or maybe not of his own imagination, really. She had ‘caught’ him bundling up beside her the last time, but had remained quiet, her stare undetected by the wary maniac. Devi was angry with him, to some degree, for allowing this routine to continue so blindly. Couldn’t he see what Meat was pressuring him into doing? With all his lamenting about how touch-repulsed he was, and how he loathed the Reverend for trying to force him to partake in it, he didn’t notice that he was being coerced to find comfort in the spot beside her?

But mostly, she was angry with herself.

Devi was furious with herself every time she stopped to think about how Johnny’s close proximity didn’t bother her in the slightest. She hated that the shift of her mattress caused by his knees while he crawled along her comforter only filled her with the mild irritation of being woken up, and not panic-stricken dread that he was approaching her supposed-sleeping form. She hated that him laying only a foot away from her sparked not a single concern in her entire being, and that her mind could easily drift back to sleep while he rested beside her, if she let it.

She completely trusted, whether it was wise or not, that he would do nothing nefarious to her, murder or otherwise, while she was defenseless – and it was completely MORONIC.

This was a man known to be unhinged when emotionally compromised, and there he was, in her bed, actively trying ease his burdened psyche, and still her brain sent her body no distress signals. No natural reflex to run from him, or lash out and demand he get the Hell away from her. She had never allowed any man to live with her, and she certainly had never let anyone sleep in her bed. And yet Johnny had worked his way so casually into both situations, with neither Devi nor himself intent on this being the outcome.

It made her near-nauseous with anger. Anger at her own emotions, for letting someone get this close.

Emotional softness, physical tenderness, codependence, domesticity – all were things Devi had eagerly sworn off of around the time of her minor mental deterioration during and after her bout with Sickness… and Johnny.

The reminder made her want to rip her hair out in frustration. Johnny was one of the leading factors in her acceptance that she would never share her life with anyone, and yet she was currently doing just that, with him! It was maddening!

This had to stop, she decided. She needed to pull away, build her boundaries again.

But she only remembered that pledge when she would fall into a comfortable moment with him – each time their interactions got too playful, or too warm – and it scorched her insides that she only noticed after it was already happening. Devi would stop, readjust, cut the mood short, and reel it in to a more respectable level, but that just left the previous lightheartedness floating around aimlessly in the air with nowhere to go, and left Johnny wondering what he’d done to screw up the conversation this time.

AND TONIGHT:

The evening had been lovely so far – Johnny thought so, anyway. Devi had given him a small painting lesson at his request, and it was fun. Part of his arm seemed to recognize the feeling of a brush in his grasp, and after Devi corrected the way he held it, the movements felt almost natural. His artistic skill was still not on par with his old paintings, but painting anything at this point was thrilling.

Devi kept her distance, mentoring from afar, but her delight showed through the more Johnny went on. She commented on his subject – a detached rabbit head – with a morbid snicker, and Johnny joked that he could call it a self-portrait. Devi warned him, with a teasing tone, to be wary of self-portraits.

Then she brought a hand up to his chin, and thumbed away a speck of black paint that had managed to find its way onto his face. Johnny felt his chest flutter as she did, but the delight was short-lived. With twisting heartache, he watched her pupils tense in realization, and her fingers immediately whipped away from him, leaving her arm tense at her side instead. He tried to hold in his dejected frown, but thought he must not have done a good enough job, as Devi’s mouth smeared into an uncomfortable scowl as she turned away from him.

Dammit! What had he done now? No matter how hard he thought about it, every time Devi grew distant these days, he couldn’t decipher which of his actions had upset her.

“Devi—” He said hurriedly, seeing her make a move for the doorway. “Devi, wait, what’s wrong?”

Devi stopped abruptly and winced her eyes at the floor before turning to face him again.

“Nothing is wrong, Nny.” She stated flatly. “I’m just going to get a drink.”

“That’s not what I’m… referring to!” He pressed, and walked closer to her. “You’ve been acting so, eh… strange, lately…”

“Strange?” Devi glared at him, and he flinched, regretting his phrasing.

“I don’t mean like, in a BAD way! It’s just that… well…” Johnny scuffed his boot on the floor and sighed. He didn’t like commenting about her behavior, he would rather just get to the root of the problem, which was usually himself.

“Devi what did I do to upset you?”

“Nothing. I’m not upset.”

“But you—urgh.” Johnny groaned. “We were just—talking, laughing, a second ago! And then, you—”

Devi scoffed in annoyance, cutting him off.

“I’m not upset, just drop it.” She spoke tightly, and walked out of the room before he could have a chance to refute her. Johnny’s mouth squirmed uncomfortably.

He wouldn’t ever brag about his prowess in interacting with other human beings, but he was pretty damn confident that he knew Devi, at least. And she definitely was upset. It was very strange for Devi to be unhappy with him and not tell him loudly and pointedly why. Unable to let his worries go, he followed her to the kitchen, catching her just as she was reentering the living room.

“Devi, just tell me, please! I don’t care if it’s some little, miniscule thing!” Johnny insisted, wondering if maybe it was so seemingly-insignificant that she felt embarrassed to bring it up. “I just don’t want to upset you, but I can’t avoid doing whatever it is unless you tell me!”

Devi’s scowl returned, and her head felt hot in response to his defiance. That idiot had no idea what he was asking.

“I’m NOT upset!” She insisted again, angrier this time.

“Yes you are!” Johnny frowned back at her.

“Well NOW I am, because you’re annoying!” Devi growled and moved to walk around him. Johnny reacted by stepping in front of her, a move that surprised them both, and only served to enrage Devi further.

“Devi, please!” He urged her. “PLEASE, tell me what I’m doing wrong! I just want us to be friends again, like before…!”

His words made her face hot, and she barred her teeth at him.

“Well I DON’T!” Devi leaned into his face to yell at him before rearing away again. “I don’t want to be friends – I don’t even want to like you! I don’t want to like ANYONE!”

With a loud grunt, she stormed past him, but couldn’t keep the rest of her rant from spilling out of her mouth.

“You moron, don’t you GET IT? You don’t want to ‘upset’ me—I don’t care! I don’t fucking care!! There is no relationship here, there is no blossoming friendship or whatever-the-fuck! You CAN’T upset me like… like we’re so CLOSE.” She seethed, and Johnny shrunk back in hurt confusion.

Devi took a step toward him and continued her tirade relentlessly.

“I’m not ‘close’ with anyone, and I’m never going to be! All my attempts in my entire life to share myself with another person have ended in complete fucking catastrophe! I am never going to make the mistake of TRUSTING someone again. You don’t want to upset me? Then leave me the HELL ALONE! I’m better off that way!”

Devi took in a few haggard breaths, and watched Johnny’s wounded expression with a venomous stare. She hated him so much for doing this to her – for putting her in this situation. He couldn’t just leave it be, could he? Couldn’t drop the topic when she told him to.

All of this was his fault anyway! His for being enjoyable; his fault for tricking her, again, into thinking of him as someone worth trusting. Well, he wasn’t! She knew that, and it was absolutely absurd to think otherwise! Devi outright refused to leave herself open to being victimized again; she needed to make that very clear.

“I can’t ever have companionship, and that’s YOUR FUCKING FAULT!” Her expression pained through her anger, and she threw an accusing finger in his direction.

“You and every other fucking asshole that somehow persuaded my stupid ass into giving them a chance! I have absolutely ZERO trust in other people because of what you did to me! I’m never letting anyone get that close again, I’m never going to give someone enough room to hurt me—I’m not going to let you DO THAT TO ME AGAIN, NNY!”

Her scream trailed out on the last thread of air in her lungs, and she stopped again to pant raggedly for a moment. Johnny stared at her with his wrists cross meekly, eyes wide in horrified sadness.

“Devi…” He whispered. For a moment, Devi thought the devastation in his voice was for himself, until she felt a sensation on her jaw and instinctively went to rub it away.

It was only then did she recognize that the feeling was wet, and looked to the base of her palm in shock to see the smudged remains of a tear there.

Her stomach sank in realization.

She cried? Cried one single, shitty little tear? Her lips trembled into a miserable sneer. Oh, Hell no. She was not about to cry over this, and definitely not in front of someone else, especially not Johnny. Devi could feel the weight of another tear brimming on her eyelashes, and she immediately turned and retreated to her room.

Johnny reached a hand out, but couldn’t say anything before the door shut. His mouth closed into a near-invisible line, and his posture sagged pitifully. With a sigh, his head dropped as low as his shoulders.

What had he done? Why had he tried to argue the point with her? It wasn’t like he had any right to her thoughts or feelings. If she didn’t want to share what was distressing her, she didn’t have to. But he did push her, and he must have pushed her too far this time, enough to make her… cry.

His innards churned in pulsating rhythm with the painful goosebumps on his arms and back, and he thought that he might actually be ill, which would be very inopportune right now, since the apartment’s only bathroom was currently inaccessible.

“You should go check on her, Johnny.” A voice whispered in the back of his head, and Johnny couldn’t decipher if it was his own, or Meat’s.

“No.” He answered. “She’s… crying. She wants to be alone.”

“You would let her cry alone? After she held you as you wept on her?”

Johnny stared at the floor, a new ripple of guilt cascading over his already aching skin.

It was true that Devi was his emotional crutch, but he needed one. Devi didn’t. She was self-sufficient, she was stronger than he was. She could easily comfort herself when she needed it, he assumed… but he now wasn’t sure. What if she could, but it would be nice to have someone there to ease her pain? Would she even want to be comforted by the person responsible for the hurt she was feeling, though?

He shuddered out a nervous exhale, and began inching toward her door. The feeling in his stomach was so insistent that he go to her, even if she just responded with more yelling and hurling anything on hand at his head. If there was even one sliver of an iota that Devi needed him, he wanted her to know he was readily available to do whatever it took to console her.

Devi stood over her sink, blotting away at the persistent wetness that continued to drip past her eyelids. The wad of tissues in her hand has been doubled twice, and was almost soaked through.

“Stop… fucking crying!” She hissed a whisper at herself, glaring at the pinkish tinge in the whites of her eyes from the reflection that greeted her in the mirror. She hated crying; it was such a pointless expulsion of emotion, in her opinion. It was proof that her screws had come undone too far, and all the things that she kept bolted up inside where seeping through the cracks. Repulsive.

That’s what she needed to do – she needed to keep the screws in. She needed to wind them back up as tight as they would go, and make sure all this weepy, sappy shit stayed securely locked away, where it belonged. Devi moved her attention from the faucet back to the mirror of the medicine cabinet, and frowned despondently at her tired, sad eyes.

God, she hadn’t cried in such a long time. Not since her first ordeal with Johnny, actually.

The memory of her panic returned to her briefly; her back against the door of her old apartment, her voice shaking as she tried to speak to the police over the phone, coming down from the adrenaline as she hung up, and the realization that the man she had grown to adore had just tried to kill her. That gut-wrenching devastation that there would be no more days spent talking with him, and that their relationship would not only not be progressing further, but that their relationship in its entirety was gone.

She had cried so hard, there against her door, sitting with her nose to her knees, miserable and deflated, trying as best she could to separate the meek, cynical dork she cared so much about from the crazed, wild-looking man that had intended to stab her to death.

Another line of tears filled the bottom lid of her eyes, and she trembled out another scowl to combat the pain. It was getting difficult to keep her fire going, and that startled her. Her anger was all she had to shield herself from her other feelings. Feelings like sadness, or fear.

Devi’s lips twitched weakly as they fell into a small frown, and she left the sink to sit on her bed.

That’s what this all boiled down to – this was because she was afraid. Vulnerability was something that she no longer trusted, and she had grown so comfortable in the idea that she had expelled the need for it out of her body like the pus from an offensive little zit. She didn’t want to come to terms with the fact that if she wasn’t uneasy with Johnny being in her space, that meant that she wasn’t the independent, self-reliant person she believed she was, and that she was still unfortunately receptive to her body’s craving for emotional and physical intimacy.

She lifted her tissue lump up to her face again, and smudged away another unyielding droplet.

The door creaked open as she did, and Devi tensed slightly at the sudden interruption. She was grateful that her back was to the door, and made no move to look behind her. It wasn’t like there was any need to guess who was there.

Johnny sulked at her weak form as he hovered near the doorframe. Her figure looked so small and un-Devi-like, all slack and closed-in like that. He could tell from the slight movements of her shoulder and what minimal view of her hands that he had, that she was blotting her eyes, and another strong resurgence of guilt overcame him.

He had never seen Devi cry. He was confident that he must have brought her to tears in the past, long ago, when he betrayed her confidence in him the way he had, but he had never had to see it firsthand. Johnny felt smothering fear at having to face the consequences for his callous badgering, but still urged himself to persist, even if he desperately didn’t want the memory of her tear-stained face.

He left the safety of the door’s threshold and walked quietly to the side of Devi’s bed. Devi turned her face further away from him as he stopped at her side, and Johnny pouted more. He almost wished that she would just yell at him, curse at him or beat him with her fists or some blunt object – that would be easier to bear than her tormenting silence. Unsure of what to say or do, he took a seat beside her on the mattress, and sat with his hands clasped between his legs.

Devi glanced at him without offering him a view of her face, and smiled weakly with an inaudible sigh of a laugh. He was always so cautious with her. She appreciated that he offered her full sovereignty of her space, unless he was otherwise invited into it – the incident of waking her up as a sobbing mess withheld, of course. Johnny had been like that from the start; keeping his distance, either out of fear or respect for her. It was what had made her so comfortable around him to begin with.

She lowered her head again, shaking it softly with a sigh. Johnny turned his attention to her abruptly, afraid that he’d upset her further with his presence, but from what he could see, her demeanor hadn’t changed.

He desperately wanted to apologize, to tell her that he was sorry for pushing her into talking to him, that he was selfish for demanding it, and more importantly than anything, that he was so deeply sorry for damaging her trust the way he had, but no matter how he tried, the words clogged inside his throat, unable to arrange themselves in a presentable, meaningful fashion.

“Y’know what’s stupid, Nny?” Devi spoke suddenly, jolting Johnny away from his thoughts of jumbled apologies. He stared at her eyes, but they were focused on the floor, not him.

“…Hm?” He replied nervously, afraid to say more. Devi exhaled slowly before she continued.

“I’ve dated… a lot of shitty guys.” She started. “I mean, fuck, one of them was literally shitty. Shit all over himself during dinner. I told you about him, I think. Another guy that I met at a club or whatever, in college, burst into fucking flames after things went south. It’s always been some stupid crap like that.”

She moved the heels of her shoes off of the bed’s metal side railing and set them on the floor, crossing her arms over her lap.

“The first guy I ever dated was in high school, and he fucking crashed his car trying to get me to screw him, and we were stuck in there for like twelve hours before someone found us. The last one was a zombie. An actual, brain-eating, walking dead, zombie.”

Devi stared blankly at the floor while she spoke, and Johnny shifted uncomfortably beside her.

“And even with all of those idiots tallied, even with all the garbage I’d dealt with at that point, nothing, and I mean nothing, hurt me… the way you did, when you turned like that.” She kept the confession quiet. Johnny’s mouth parted slightly as he watched her with wide, remorseful eyes.

“I was so gutted.” Devi added, lifting her shoulders up more. “It completely tore me up inside, that you would do that to me. You, the guy I thought… I don’t know—I liked you. I really liked you. I thought my crappy dates were all over with by the time we got back to your house and you still hadn’t even tried to allude to wanting things to get… physical.”

She paused for a moment.

“I think you might’ve broke my heart, Nny.”

Johnny’s eyes, long since centered on her carpet, bent up painfully the more she talked. His eyebrows arched downward fully at her last comment, and the guilt in his chest reached new heights, threatening to release itself in the form of tears. He sucked in a whimpering breath, but again couldn’t say anything before Devi resumed talking.

“And… you know what’s, even stupider?” She asked him again, with a downtrodden laugh in the back of her throat. Johnny adjusted his leg, and moved his palms to rest flat on the sheets, too anxious to respond otherwise.

“After all of that, after everything we’ve been through – with the attempted murder, and then me accidentally killing you, and… and you giving me a head-parasite, and you trying to murder me again, and then… all the fighting and screaming, and failing plans to help you regain control of your brain, and ALL of the other stupid shit that got us to this point,” Devi hesitated, then lifted her arm, and set her hand over his.

“…I still like you best.” She finished with a small smile, and gave his hand a squeeze. Johnny’s eyes popped back open to their normal round shape, and he stared at her in shock.

He couldn’t have possibly heard that right, he thought, but his doubt was distracted by Devi’s hand kneading against the back of his own. He stared down at where they were connected, and couldn’t believe that after all the things she had just told him, that she would extend such a tender offer. With a nervous hike of his shoulders, he flipped his hand around, and closed his fingers around hers as she did the same.

Johnny could see the slight curve of her mouth, and smiled hesitantly himself.

It felt so wonderful, her palm against his. He had been so worried that her explosive rant less than fifteen minutes prior had marked a definitive end to any pleasant interactions between them, let alone any touching. The flexing of Devi’s digits against the side of his hand soothed his remaining worries, and he tried to mimic the massaging movements with the tips of his fingers as best he could.

Devi surprised him even further when she made a quick scoot closer, and gingerly rested her head against his shoulder. Johnny thought his entire skeleton had jumped out of his body at the sudden contact of her cheek against him, but after a quick breath and a few erratic heart palpitations, he was assured that no part of his physical form had blown off.

He realized slowly, as Devi’s thumb dragged hypnotically across his skin, how symbolic the gesture was. After all of her admissions settled with him, Johnny came to the tentative conclusion that all of her gnashing and belligerent comments previously were just a mask, made to cover what she didn’t want seen by others. Like the claws of a wounded animal, swinging and scratching to ward off this next potential predator, in hopes of surviving the injuries already sustained, her words shot out like a defense mechanism, sharp and erratic from fear.

Fear because… she did trust him.

It excited him through his disbelief to imagine that Devi would, genuinely, want to share herself with him again, unprotected by barriers built from cruel words or standoffish behavior. Johnny wanted more desperately than ever to ease her concerns, and offer himself as the comfort she needed, just as she offered herself to him, begrudgingly or not.

Devi hummed a long sigh through her nose, and Johnny’s eyes drifted to watch her, though his only view of her was her hair. A long, easy smile grew across his face, and whether from lack of judgement or eagerness to reciprocate, tilted his head, and rested his ear on her crown. Devi only replied with another sigh and slight shift of her body.

This was absolutely the stupidest thing she’s ever done, she admitted to herself without reservation. Just as bewildered as Johnny was, Devi too couldn’t quite wrap her mind around what sense it made to like Johnny best out of every dipshit she’d ever taken a liking to. Sure there was more common interests between the two of them than most of her prospective partners, and maybe their personalities bounced off of each other’s better than hers did with most other people, but it was still ridiculous.

He was a dramatic, overly-sensitive, insecure, clingy, lit powder keg full of violence and destruction – what could outweigh that? Did she have some pitiful hope that the Johnny she ‘knew’ was inside the jumbled-up mess of a man that the wall-thing left behind, or, was it because of how eagerly he tried to please her and obey her instructions despite every atom in his body pulling him in the opposite direction? She was too drained to even try to debate it.

Johnny turned his face against her hair slightly to speak.

“I’m so sorry, Devi.” He said softly, remorse evident despite the contentment in his voice. “I would never want to… drive you to tears. You’re so wonderful.”

A quiet, airy laugh burst past her lips, and Devi hid her face further into his shirt while she finished with a snicker. He was so embarrassing.

They stayed perched on the end of her bed for a few minutes longer, resting in the same position while Devi gathered herself. She took as much comfort as she could from the grip of his hand as it cradled hers, and from the timid, hesitant nuzzling of his cheekbone on the top of her head, which might have just been the result of two bodies breathing together and not anything decisive on his part. She almost hoped it wasn’t intentional, because the idea of being cuddled was too sappy for words.

That thought pushed her to get up, and she waved her hands flippantly with a blush on her cheeks, palming and brushing away any remaining dampness under her eyes.

“Okay—okay, enough of that…!” Devi spoke with a laugh in reference to her tearful outburst, looking off awkwardly as she did.

Johnny stayed seated, watching her regain her composure with an adoring smile. He clasped his hands in his lap again, reveling in the warm, buzzy feeling that had replaced the nervous knots in his stomach; she was so charming, and sweet, and she liked him, still! Nothing on Earth could make him happier!

Devi listed her irises back to him, trying to save face in the wake of her embarrassingly vulnerable moment.

“You want to, um, watch a movie?” Her arms crossed awkwardly. “Maybe? Heh—or, something?”

Johnny nodded with a wide smile and an eager “Okay!”, then popped up into a standing position in front of her. Devi sputtered out another embarrassed laugh from the shine in his stare, and started shoving him toward the living room.

“Go, go—shut up, don’t laugh!” The light tone of her voice betrayed her demanding words, and Johnny gagged back giggles the entire way to the couch.

NEXT.

#jthm #im very excited to finally finish this....#this was one of the scenes i had jotted down since i started drafting jtrm :((((#jtrm #chapter #mine #devnny #oooguguhhgh devvbibiiiiii

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caracalfeather · 4 years

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WARNING- Cats and Birds is a mob AU fanfiction of the Arcana game, and is not meant for young audiences and is not meant to offend anyone. Some writing choices were made so characters are out of their canon way of acting and thinking. Please do not be offended by character choices made by the authors and content creators, this story was made for fun and in the way we wanted it to be. The story was not hijacked by any of the authors to make any ships or characters overshadow any other. All content contained in this story has been agreed upon and accepted by all parties in it’s creation.

TW- Cats and Birds contains scenes that may not be suitable with some readers, including themes of violence, smoking/drug use, sex, cursing and various other strong themes. Special warnings for scenes will be posted with chapters. Proceed with caution and Reader’s discretion is advised.

The next morning, Rose shivered against ilya, waking up to a cold room. She wrapped herself in the blanket.

Julian stirred awake, he just laid there and didn’t bother to move, the barking had stopped sometime in the night so Julian wasn’t completely sleepless.

Morning darling.” Rose purred and kissed his neck, smiling “You were rough last night.”

“Hmmmm….you think?” He sighed, caressing her face.

“It was good. But that nickname wasnt your best idea. It was cute though.” She sighed

Julian blushed and hid underneath his pillow. Damn her. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?!??” He groaned into his mattress, her haunting was becoming increasingly annoying as long as that goddamned photo wasn’t burned to ash.

“D-did i do something again?” she looked at him, her smile dropping from her face.

Julian sat up in a hurry and cupped Rose’s face. “No! No darling! It’s not you! God it could never be you.” He sighed, “I think I’m being haunted is all.”

“.......” She looked at him, skeptical and stood up “Im...going to shower…” She picked up her clothes and mumbled.

With rage boiling in his blood Julian dug through the waste basket and tore the photo up. “Good riddance to you, you're ruining everything!” He shouted, the pieces fluttering to the floor. He tore the photo in a few big chunks but Julian was more disappointed in himself more than anyone.

As Rose showered, Plume was downstairs making plans for Rose's next trip heist. It would be a little longer than her last.

Julian was on torture that morning, he slipped on his black gloves, and faced the cell. His mind was not in the right place but a job had to be done.

“Alright. Our queen is heading out for a month or two to chicago. She’s going on a supply run and needs a companion.” Plume set down the map of the route as a few guys volunteered. Meanwhile, Rose was toweling off and packing her bags, mumbling to herself and trying to think if she’d done something to upset ilya. She hurt on the inside and wished she could just disappear into her bed.

He opened the cell and was met by two brown eyes. The woman who was handcuffed was big and she looked….really familiar.

The woman looked up, “look….if you’re here to torture me I already told the big fella that it was all a misunderstanding-“ her eyes flashed and she laughed. “Noooooo…..yes? It can’t be???”

Julian looked into the eyes of...Bèatrice.

“Bèa….what the hell are you doing here?” Julian growled.

Bea spat blood into the concrete. “I could say the same to you, you son of a bitch. We all thought you DIED.”

Julian could not handle this today, he rubbed his temples, “but that’s not why you're here.”

“Right…..I’m here because I was looking for Madeve your dog.” She explained, “he’s been getting out a lot recently and I’ve been helping get him home.”

He nodded and Bèa continued.

“What would she say if she knew you were here? Would she ever forgive you-“

Her words were cut short by a bullet to the head. Julian held the gun with shaking hands and stepped out from the cell. He was probably going to get a scolding from Plume, but it was worth not having to deal with this matter anymore.

Plume looked up from the map at the sound and growled “Damn it. Alright everyone, prep the queen and get ilya.”

Like clockwork Ilya was dragged to Plume. Julian with a blood splattered face was so done with everything and everyone.

“Who the fuck did you kill now you usesless dog?” Plume hissed, tossing the map into a bag and glaring at him.

“A trespasser.” Julian hissed crossing his arms over his chest.

“Whatever. Rose is leaving for a few months.” He pushed Julian into a chair “We’re getting her things ready.”

“I take it, I'm going with her.” He sighed, “I am pretty sure I’m the last person she wants to see currently.”

“It's up to you. She’s getting her clothes from your room right now.” He mumbled. Upstairs, rose was bending down to grab her shirt, pausing as she noticed torn pieces of paper on the floor. Carefully she looked at them, her heart sinking slightly as she saw a beautiful face she’d only seen in magazines. Her mind began to wander as she put the paper in her pocket. What was he doing with her torn picture? Was it an infatuation? Maybe it was just remnants of an old magazine…

Julian found Rose in his room. He smiled, wiping some stray blood from his cheek. “Well, I took care of the trespasser.”

“Huh? Oh...thanks.” Rose put her jacket on and fixed her hair, unimpressed.

“Did I piss you off again?” Julian frowned, “Rose, this is becoming a pattern and I would like for it not too.”

“No, I'm just busy and sore...sorry.” She sighed, going to the door, the ripped pieces in her pocket.

Julian sighed and began packing himself, meeting Rose out in the garage when he was done. “So we’re going all the way across the country. For supplies. “

“We? You're coming with me?” She put her bags in the back as plume nodded “Yes. and You two are fetching more artillery from our Chicago pride since we can't ship them anymore.”

“Perfect.” He smiled, tossing his bag in along with Rose’s. “Are we going in disguise this time?” His smile widened into a mischievous grin.

“Yep. Once you're in the city rose will be dressed as Mistress thorne and you” Plume tossed lingerie looking close at him “Will be her collared sub Thomas.” Plume laughed “No one questions the mistress.” It was a joke, but he didn't doubt ilya would play the part anyway.

Julian laughed, “ha! Good thing it’s a long drive it will give me plenty of time to get into character.”

“You'll keep your mouth shut.” Rose mumbled and got into the driver's seat.

“As my Mistress commands.” Julian bowed dramatically and got into the car.

Blasting music, rose took off to the highway, opening the window as they began the trip.

“The city seems strangely quiet today.” Julian sighed staring out the window, “we haven’t gone on a long trip together in a very long time.”

“Yeah… almost a year now.” she mumbled and glanced at him “New york last time.”

Julian chuckled, “That’s Right! That mission was an absolute disaster….but it was fun. And you had fun fucking me into oblivion.”

“Mhm. next time i'll gag and peg you with a strap.” She weaved her way through the streets, listening to an old rock song.

He unbuttoned his shirt slightly, his charismatic smirk on full display. “Just hearing you say that makes me hungry and excited.” He traced a gentle line from her cheek down her neck.

She slapped his hand away and huffed “I'm not touching you until we get to chicago.” Her voice growled “Then I'm going to make sure you submit and learn your place.”

Julian held up his hands in full surrender, shutting up. He instead brought his attention to the passing streets.

The ride was a long 10 hours until they finally stopped at an inn. It was pitch black outside as they got a room, Rose spent another hour nursing a blunt on the balcony. Her mind was full of memories of old lovers. Each had ended up leaving her for Hollywood models and performers, saying they were better than her. They had called her an alley cat, a mangy stray. And after finding that picture, rose was sure ilya was fantasizing about being with a performer. Someone prettier and more talented. She finished smoking and dropped her head, looking at old scars on her arms.

Julian wrapped his arms around her and hummed into her neck. “Someone is in the pits of despair” he chuckled, “ I thought I was going to get punished once we arrived.”

“In chicago. You have 15 more hours.” She looked at him “Cant a girl smoke in the night in peace?” She looked at the dark night.

He let her go, “alright I get it. You're upset I’ll leave you be.” He retreated back into the room. Mulling over what he did this time. Each answer leading to the one thing he had been fighting these past 2 weeks.

“It doesn't feel good, does it?” She whispered and looked at the moon “Gods, my papi would kill me for being this petty.”

Julian heavily sighed, “you think I haven’t been suffering? Your suffering makes me suffer! And aside from that, I’m still just suffering.”

Rose went into the bathroom to shower, sitting on the tiles as warm water hit her back. She got lost in thought, a few tears mixing with the water.

Julian flopped back on the bed. Rubbing his eyes in frustration. He wished that bullet had killed him, it would spare a lot of feelings and memories that were now causing issues.

Rose came back to the bed, laying down with her back to ilya, browsing her phone quietly and yawning.

He looked over at her, “I’m sorry.” He muttered.

“For what?” She mumbled, setting down her phone on the nightstand.

“For everything.” He sighed, “I’m sorry I stumbled upon your branch in Spain, I’m sorry you had to save me while I was bleeding out. I’m sorry I have made life so much worse for you. Rose I love you, but there are things that….haunt me. They have come back and it has affected our relationship, and I’m sorry!!! So so sorry!!”

“....Believe it or not… You're the best thing that's happened to me ilya.” She mumbled, looking at the wall “And i know there's shit that both of us deal with…. But i don't regret saving you. Or falling in love.”

Julian shook his head, “what if I regret being saved?”

“NO.” she sat up and glared at him “You shut the fuck up right now ilya. Don't ever say that.”

“...I CAN’T HELP IT ROSE!” He shouted sitting up. “I have been suppressing so much pain!”

“THEN WHY CAN'T YOU JUST LET IT OUT?! IF NOT TO ME THEN TO SOMEONE OR SOMETHING ELSE?!” She got out of bed, her eyes stinging as she went and locked herself in the bathroom.

Julian punched the wall and fell back into the bed. Rubbing his eyes, he tore his eye patch off and rubbed his bad eye. Trying to prevent everything from coming out.

#the arcane game #arcana apprentice #the arcana #the arcane julian #julian devorak #arcana #the arcane mc #the arcana julian #rose sagenea #rose the apprentice #lyra the apprentice #cats and birds #mob au #caracaltalks

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forehead-enthusiast · 4 years

Text

A Buncha Tag Games (and yet not all of them)

tagged by: @eggyukhei mwah

tagging: this is a LOT of games so i’ll only tag @atinyphobe @nsheetee and @veonjun for the SECOND (2nd) game. if they or anybody wants to do any of the other games, absolutely go for it and say i tagged you <3 i’d love to see what you guys say!! (also, tk if you felt like you wanted to answer my questions from the second game i’d be interested to see!)

One:

tell me the first song that made you stan your current fave group and why did your faves attract you so much?

ok SO the song that probably got me into rv 100% (also yes ik this blog is 99% nct but rv is my forever fave no question) was probably ice cream cake!! i had been a casual listener of many groups up until that point and had never really stanned anyone, but icc was so infectious i found myself watching it over and over. i had heard happiness and be natural before but hadn’t really listened too closely, so icc was the song that captured me. after that, dumb dumb only cemented my love for them more, and the red is still one of my favorite kpop albums to date. rv attracted me primarily because of their incredible vocals and their versatility in genres and concepts. i still get so excited wondering what they’ll tackle next!! they’re just soooo unique and have one of, if not the best discographies of any group. i cannot stress enough, I. Love. RV!! also they’re funny and gay so. anyway stream monster once it drops uwu

Two:

rule: answer the ten questions and write your own!

1. what is your favorite song that’s been released during quarantine? ooooo honestly??? probably something off of Sawayama. literally every song bangs so hard i highly recommend that album to anyone!! i can’t pick a favorite off it but who’s gonna save you now is awesome and xs is just,,, chef’s kiss

2. what is your greatest mishap when you tried cooking? (or something you’ve witnessed) one time, while making soup at my late grandmother’s house on her like gas stove, i put a lid on a pot and somehow that led the pot to be engulfed in flames. IN MY DEFENSE i was like 7, and i’m great at cooking/baking now

3. what’s your go-to outfit or article of clothing? oh i love a nice dress. they can be casual or formal, and you look like you put effort into your outfit except i didn’t because i didn’t have to match anything yo!!!! also shorts have trouble fitting me cause i’m a weird body type so dresses tend to be very comfy for me

4. what is your comfort food? am i allowed to say like all food??? eating in itself is comforting,,, that sounds depressing but also i just like eating yummy food. i guess i’d say like my dad’s fried rice?? its my fave and no one makes it like him soooo

5. what singular moment in your life would you like to relive? i couldn’t tell if this meant like, a good moment you want to re-experience or go back in time and redo a moment and fix it. it’s kind of a hard question so i might cop out and go with a bit of a silly answer: i want to relive the hi touch with astro...... i wanna look at rocky’s beautiful eyes and touch moonbin’s hand ok,,,,

6. what is your favorite line and/or character from a movie, show, or book? i got a bunch but a few off the top of my head are genie lo (the epic crush of genie lo), ty lee, suki (atla), klaus, and ben (umbrella academy)

7. if you could only choose one ice cream flavor and pizza topping/style for the rest of your life, what would it be? ice cream flavor: this very specific one from a local store that is banana ice cream with strawberries and oreo mixed in. it is heaaaavenly. as for pizza topping, i love a breakfast type pizza with an egg on top and like sausage and stuff!!!

8. what is the worst injury you’ve ever had or witnessed? funny enough, i’ve actually gotten badly injured quite a few times, and always on the face!! god hates me. the worst was probably when i hit a metal bench with my face and it took a chunk out of my cheek. i still have the scar! as for “witnessed” i accidentally broke a grown man’s rib once as a child, so i guess that would count.

9. would you rather explore the unknown of space or the bottom of the ocean? oceaaaan!! i answered this in some other game, but i like how mysterious and yet close the ocean is. like proximity wise it’s so near, yet there’s an insane amount we know nothing about. that’s so frightening but so intriguing

10. if you could be any cartoon character, who would you be? my first thought was literally “kirby. eat fast” GOD my followers are gonna think i’m just a glutton and they’re not even gonna be wrong im dying. but uhh idk mulan or smth?

my questions:

what is your go-to feel good movie?

are you the type of person who’s indecisive about buying, or the type to impulse buy once you see something you like?

do you prefer chocolate-y or fruity candy?

what idol do you think is most similar to you? (not your bias necessarily)

do you have any silly dealbreakers? if so, what are they?

what do you do to unwind?

what is a small thing you like to do for people you love? (be it sending memes, remembering their favorite shows, etc)

what’s/who’s your favorite myth/mythological being?

what is a non-typical pet you would want to have?

do you say pronounce data as day-ta or dah-ta?

THREE

rule: bold the statements that apply to you, italicize your aspirations, then tag nine people.

AIR ༉⋆͙̈

i have small hands / i love the night sky / i watch animals and birds when i pass them by / i drink herbal tea / i wake to see the dawn / the smell of dust is comforting / i’m valued for being wise / i prefer books to music / i meditate / i find joy in learning new truths from the world around me

FIRE ༉⋆͙̈

i don’t have straight hair / i like to wear ripped jeans and overalls / i play an organized sport / i love dogs / i am not afraid of adventure / i love to talk to strangers / i always try new foods / i enjoy road trips / summer is my favorite season / my radio is always playing

WATER ༉⋆͙̈

i wear bracelets on my wrists / i love the bustle of the city / i have more than one set of piercings / i read poetry / i love the sound of a thunderstorm / i want to travel the world / i sleep past midday most days / i love simply lit dinners and fluorescent signs / i rewatch kids shows out of nostalgia / i see emotions in colors not words

EARTH ༉⋆͙̈

i wear glasses or contacts / i enjoy doing the laundry / i am a vegetarian or vegan / i have an excellent sense of time / my humor is very cheerful / i am a valued advisor to my friends / i believe in true love / i love this chill of mountain air / i’m always listening to music / i am highly trusted by the people in my life

AETHER ༉⋆͙̈

i go without makeup in my daily life / i make my own artwork / i keep on track of my tasks and time / i always know true north / i see beauty in everything / i can always smell flowers / i smile at everyone i pass by / i always fear history repeating itself / i have recovered from a mental disorder / i can love unconditionally

FOUR

the ultimate tag: answer whichever ones you want to because there are a lot and then tag a few blogs you’d like to get to know better!

PERSONAL

name: sarah

nickname: bells

birthday: april 17th

zodiac: aries

nationality: chinese american

languages: english, some spanish, some korean

gender: female

sexuality: baby bi bi bi~

height: 5′10

BLOG STUFF

inspiration for muse: i suppose nct since i write for them the most?? but i feel like sometimes i come up with the idea before i think of a member so sometimes the muse is just my own fantasies oops

meaning behind my url: i made it at a time where loads of idols were getting bangs and honestly i believe most of them look infinitely better without them, thus i was and still am enthusiastic about foreheads.

blog established: like winter of 2018...?? i think

followers: over 2.5k but most deactivated/left during my hiatus lol

FAVORITES

favourite animals: sharks, chickens, snakes, cats, penguins

favourite books: the epic crush of genie lo and then iron will of genie lo, PERIOD

favourite colour: pink and purple!!

favourite fictional characters: lol, again, genie lo, ty lee, suki, klaus, ben, and just a few more: richard and evelyn o’connell (the mummy), dave (dave), michael (the good place)

favourite flower: sunflower

favourite scent: baking chocolate, heating butter, blackberry, wisteria

favourite season: probably spring! i like warmth but not HEAT

RANDOM

average hours of sleep: ugh idek i sleep horribly

cats or dogs: both, but unfortunately i’ve never had either

coffee, tea or hot chocolate: tea but then hot chocolate

current time: 5:29pm

dream trip: go to paris and eat loads of pastries and enjoy the fashions and beauty of the city, and also learn to bake better maybe?

dream job: actress

hobbies: making jewelry, drawing, singing, reading comics

hogwarts house: according to the quizzes, all of them. people who have just met me think slytherin or gryffindor, people who i’m friends with think ravenclaw or hufflepuff, people who know me really well know you can’t box a person into oversimplified archetypes :’) in my assessment of myself, it varies by the day, but i think perhaps gryffindor today?

last movie watched: hot fuzz (a classic)

last song listened to: summer breeze by sf9

no. of blankets you sleep with: like 2

random fact(s): i won lego building competitions as a child, one of my dream roles is anastasia from the musical named after her, i played violin for a very short time, i bake the cakes for all my family and friends’ birthdays, i have strangely strong grip strength

SIX

10 songs i can’t stop listening to:

love me 4 me- rina sawayama

cherry- rina sawayama

in & out- red velvet

crush culture- conan gray

manic- conan gray

the king- conan gray

summer- pentagon

told you now- jeremy jordan (originally sung by sam smith)

fuck this world (interlude)- rina sawayama

someone who loves me- sara bareilles

#these were sooooooooooo fun!!#thank you for tagging me eggy #i feel like i maybe exposed myself for being a gluttonous fool tho #lmaoooo #fr tho try these games out!! so fun #sarah.tmi #tag games

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casualhottubnacho · 5 years

Text

an excerpt from a chatfic i'm writing

Twitter

Hammer and Dickle {√}

@USSR

@Japan 3 am, 7/11 parking lot, boring, oregon, usa, bring your battle axe and a box of matches, be fully prepared to meet god face-to-face.

Viewing Comments:

neeneepapa @oksweaty

@USSR the owner of this account: *brandon rogers voice* Donovan! Meet me on my island at 5 O'clock. Pack my battleaxe and my poetry and be prepared to abandon your religion.

ugh @lordie

@USSR okay but why tf did they pick boring oregon of all places.

sit on my face @lickmybaugette

@USSR vibe check

Furry @Japan

@USSR why do i need matches. also if ur not actually there and i just spent money on a plane ticket i stg im gonna break your teeth

[Image: A crisp picture of the clouds and deep twilight sky outside of a plane window.]

│

│ Hammer and Dickle @USSR

│@Japan you need matches because we're going to set our weapons on fire like civilized people. im bringing the gasoline. meri is gonna spectate. also.

[Image: A slightly blurry image- The photographer was clearly laughing- of a man in a heavy winter coat squatting underneath a "Welcome to Boring, Oregon" sign. His skin is bright red, and an eyepatch with a hammer and sickle is over his right eye. His hand is below his waist, making an "Okay" sign.]

│

│ Furry @Japan

│@USSR I don't trust him to spectate. he'll probably be biased towards you, smh.

│

│ Homosexual Homosapien @America

│@Japan girl no. beat his ass please and thank u.

Furry {√}

@Japan

they didn't let me bring my battleaxe on the plane smh. anyone know of any... like... battle axe stores in oregon,,, or,,,,

Viewing Comments

errebody @rockyobody

@Japan i gotchu fam. there's a store in kelso (near boring) that sells antique weapons and junk. im sure there's a battle axe in there somewhere

│

│ Furry @Japan

│@rockyobody there better be. im coming for you if there isnt

│

│ errebody @rockyobody

│@Japan gay fear

Someone Please Snipe Me {√}

@Germany

In honor of my friend @Japan going to fight one of my least favorite people in the world, I have opted to pressure her into live-streaming her Totally Radical Super Cool™ Fight on Twitch. Uhhhh here's a link I guess: Link

Viewing Comments

Furry @Japan

@Germany "pressure" is right. little rat said he'd send his boyfriend after me if i didn't do what i wanted. i would like to keep my ankles, so i complied.

│

│ Kurwa @Poland

│@Japan I hate you too boo xoxo

Furry {√}

@Japan

insert funny text here

[Images: The first image is of the "Welcome to Boring, Oregon" sign. The second image is off a pair of black sneakers kicking a pair of footprints in the dirt underneath the sign. The third image is of a woman in a full black outfit -Black shoes, black jeans, black hoodie, and black beanie- sitting on the ground in the same spot where the man from earlier was. Both middle fingers are straight up, though there is a wide grin on her face.]

~~~~~~~~~

[A Twitch stream comes to life. On the screen, a pair of black-sneaker-covered feet is quickly striding down a paved road. "Kon'nichiwa," A high-pitched voice begins, "And welcome to... Hell." The camera flicks upwards sharply, showing a neon-lit 7/11 gas station, sharply outlined against the pitch-black night sky. There are only two cars in the parking lot. One is a dirty red convertible Jeep in the employee's area; The other is a nondescript black car with the headlights still on and the engine still running.

The camera flips views. We're now met with a worm's-eye view of a snowy white face with a single red circle in the center. Bright yellow eyes sparkle with mirth as the woman fights back a grin. "So, for anyone who isn't aware, here's a summary of what's about to go down. My name is Japan, I'm an anthropomorphic country, and I'm about to absolutely destroy one of my fellow nations. Well, he's not a nation anymore, but still. He called me a name in the group chat, so I called him Old Man, so he took the obvious route and challenged me to a duel in a 7/11 parking lot. Ya'know, like you do."

Japan shakes her head and giggles. "Also, thank you oh so very much, Twitter user "rockyobody", for informing me of the antique weaponry shop in Kelso. They did indeed carry battle-axes." To punctuate her statement, Japan reaches over her shoulder and lifts the weapon attached to her back out of its holder by a few inches. "I have dubbed my newfound traveling companion Jerry, and he will take many a life in his time on this Earth."

A new voice cuts through the autumn air, strong and deep. "Did you bring the matches, девочка?" They demand. Japan changes the camera once again. Leaning against the black car are two men- One is short and chunky, with round cheeks and long, fluffy hair. 7 red stripes and 6 white, broken only by a square of blue dotted with stars, are emblazed on his face. A white hoodie with the words Designated Peacekeeper is quickly thrown onto him when he sees Japan approach. He flashes her a smile and raises one hand in a wave.

The other man is incredibly tall, almost unnaturally so. A long, military green winter coat hangs loosely from his body- It obviously used to fit him a lot better, maybe when he was wider, or more muscular. His face is scarred and weather-beaten, a leather eyepatch over his right eye. A hammer and sickle, golden and gleaming, sits neatly in the center of the leather. A fluffy brown ushanka is slightly lopsided on his head.

"Well?" He questions. He was the one who spoke before; A harsh accent cuts through his words.

Japan responds by raising a small box of matches in front of the camera. "I gotch'yo damn matches, 老人." She snarks back. The taller man raises a single eyebrow and pushes himself off of the car. "'Meri, pop the trunk," He demands. 'Meri', looking taken aback, steps away from the car and crosses his arm. "Do it'cha self, ya lazy bastard."

Despite the insults, his companion gives him a warm smile and slips around the back of the car. Japan joins them in the parking lot before he comes back around. "So, Ame, he really managed to rope you into moderating this?" She gestures to his hoodie. He chuckles light-heartedly and nods. "Yeah. You wouldn't believe the things he told me when I originally declined."

Japan snorts. "I can believe a lot of things, America."

"At first it was the regular bouts of loving insults, but then it dissolved into really weird nicknames."

"Like?"

"Like 'My little biscuit and gravy'."

"...What?"

America just laughs and waves away the question. "What's taking you so long, sugah?" He drawls, twisting at an odd angle to lean back and glance at the trunk of the car. There's a moment of silence before the man he's addressing mutters, "My... weapon... maybe a bit stuck."

Japan and America both giggle to each other for a few heartbeats before America cooes, "Does this mean we're going home, dear?" The slightly angry response is immediate. "Absolutely not, дорогой," The man spits, appearing at Japan's shoulder. "'Proper edicit', as you so often say, dictates that, as the man who called for the duel, I am not allowed to back out, even if my sword is stuck in the trunk."

"You made me bring a whole fuckin' axe when you get a sword? Sov, my good man, you are an ass."

'Sov' chortles and pats Japan on the head. "Such is life, девочка. You would have an unfair advantage if I let you bring what you wanted. You have no experience with a battle-axe; I have no experience with a sword. It is therefore a fair fight." He ruffles her hair a bit before turning back to America. "In all seriousness, the sword is probably tearing up the fabric on the inside of your trunk." He announces. America swears in a few different languages as he sprints to the other end of his car.

There's a small chime as the door to the 7/11 opens. A pimple-faced teenager peeks his head out. "Hey, uhm- I have no idea what's happening right now, but, uh... I don't think you guys are allowed to have weapons on the property." He nods towards America, who's struggling to rip the sword of out the spot where it's lodged itself in his trunk.

Japan quirks a brow and crosses her arms. Her phone goes a bit lopsided as she does so. "Oh?" Is all she says. She could possibly look intimidating, but the effect, evidently, isn't very strong, as the teen gives her an unamused look. "Yeah. I could possibly over-look that fact if you guys were to, like... scare away any customers who try to approach for a little bit, though..." He trails off and slips back inside the store. Japan scoffs. "Rude."

There's a loud yell of "Fuck!" from the next to where America should be- He's currently on the ground, a sword in his lap. "You're paying for the repairs to my poor car," He snaps, gesturing to the bits of fabric stuck to the sword's blade. Sov's face softens a bit. "I was planning on doing just that," He remarks, moving to help America to his feet. The Westerner blows a bit of hair out of his face once he's on his feet. "This had better be worth it."

"Oh, it will be," Sov says, the steely look returning to him. He picks up the blade clumsily and holds it with clear inexperience. America sighs softly and squeezes his eyes shut for just a moment. "God, this is gonna be hard to watch. You can't even hold the sword right."

Sov looks confused. "There's a wrong way to hold a sword?"

"There's a wrong way to do everything, hon."

Japan grins with a sickly-sweetness and sets her phone onto a newspaper box, positioning it to take in the whole parking lot. She steps onto the far right, Sov standing opposite her on the other side. America scurries over to in-between the gas pumps, a chunk of fabric tied to a stick clutched in his hand. "Alright, I want to see a fuckin' dirty fight," He begins, looking first at Japan, then at Sov. "Frickin' bite each other if you have to. I want to see some blood. Japan, you marked your stream as mature, right?"

"Uh..."

"Dumbass, go do that."

Japan reluctantly complies, marching over to her phone. "Alright, I'm gonna stop the stream and start up a new one marked mature. If you want to watch the actual fight, you'll need to go to that one. See you in a few seconds, lads."

The stream ends]

[A new stream opens up on the parking lot again. Japan is back in her original spot, standing rather cockily, her arms crossed behind her back, her spine straight, slightly tip-toed. America clears his throat. "Alright, like I said earlier- Dirty fight. Nothing is illegal, aside from injuring anyone or anything that isn't your opponent. That includes me, the 7/11 worker, an animal that passes by, a gas pump, a tire on a car, anything."

"Fighters, get ready."

Japan suddenly smirks and slips the battle-axe into her hands with ease. "It was bold of you to assume I had no experience with a battle-axe before, Sov." She comments, getting into an offensive stance. Sov goes slack for a moment before resuming his own way of standing with renewed vigor. "...This is fine," He mutters distractedly. Japan's grin only widens.

"And... Go!"

America flicks his flag down, and the fight begins. Japan shoots forward first, swinging in a downward slope towards Sov's legs. Sov jumps backward and jolts his arms into action, barely managing to block Japan's next move. He starts to loudly swear to himself as he continued to struggle to go on the defensive, cursing himself, the ground, the sky, Japan, and even America. "Сукин сын!" He yelps as Japan spins on her heel, around him, and cuts through the fabric of his coat, through to his thigh. The green starts to turn red as the wound begins to bleed.

Sov just shrugs off the coat and tosses it aside. Underneath, he's wearing a black turtleneck and dark grey jeans, as well as black leather boots that stop just below his knees. America lets out a low whistle.

Japan laughs a bit and starts to jog backwards, towards her original spot. "Bad move, 老人," She snarks. Sov growls a bit and bolts after her. She slips past each of his swings like sand through someone's fingers, leading him in a circle before booking it back towards America's car. The Westerner yelps in fear for his vehicle, but Japan emerges from behind it not a moment later, a jug of gasoline in her hands. She runs away from the parking lot and out into the darkness.

"Мошенника!" Sov yells, coming to a stop. He stands there for a moment, panting, before a bright flash from the opposite end of the parking lot has him spinning and raising his sword in defense. Japan appears in the black, her weapon now (quite literally) dripping with flames as she spits on a match and puts it out. "Let's get this party started," She hisses, hefting her axe. The flaming gasoline seems to not affect her as she grips the blazing handle and charges at Sov.

Her opponent stumbles in an attempt to get away, cursing in an odd mix of English, Russian, and, occasionally, Chinese, almost dropping his weapon with how quickly he's attempting to block her attacks.

"Y'know," Japan chokes out, beads of sweat running down her skin, causing her hair to stick to the back of her neck, "I'm glad I put my phone on silent beforehand. If- If it was on vibrate, I can imagine it would have vibrated off of the stand by now."She finishes her sentence with a grunt and her axe makes contact with Sov's arm, causing the man to let out a small noise of pain. Japan wretches herself back, tripping over her own feet from the weight of the weapon. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," Sov mutters, clutching at his arm in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Japan smirks. "Had enough?"

"You wish, Potter," America chuckles to himself.

"What is this, a porno?" Sov spits.

Japan starts to giggle as she momentarily drops her axe. "God, this is tiring, I haven't fought anyone in a while."

Sov makes an attempt to lift his sword, but gasps as his wounded arm seizes up. "Shit, Japan- Okay. We're both tired. I'm bleeding out of my ass and my arm. Are- Will you hold it against me if I... Surrender, I suppose? I'm far too old and sick for this."

Japan stands in silence for a few seconds before sighing heavily and nodding. She plops down onto the ground rather suddenly, squeezing her eyes shut. "I won't hold it against you."

"Good," Sov grunts, sitting down as well. America pauses before letting out a long, dramatic groan and waving his flag. "Fight's over, I suppose," He whines, marching over to Sov. "That was anti-climactic as balls," He mutters as soon as he's close enough to his friend. Sov nods distractedly. "Indeed it was. Be glad she didn't kill me- Then you'd have to explain a dead body to the poor boy in the store."

"Oh yeah. I forgot about him."

"Hah, same."

The rest of the stream passes in relative silence as Japan sits on the pavement to rest. America is bandaging Sov's arm, muttering insults as well as cutesy nicknames as he does so. After around ten or so minutes of mostly nothing, Japan slides her gaze over to her phone, makes a small noise of surprise, hauls herself to her feet, strides over, and ends the stream.]

#countryhumans #countryhuman #countryhumans america #countryhumans japan #countryhumans ussr #countryhumans germany #(but only briefly)#countryhuman america #countryhuman japan #countryhuman ussr #writing #my writing #my stuff #the whole chatfic is on both wattpad and a03 (i have the sam username on both)

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determined-magi · 5 years

Note

"Thannor." The new voice is sickly sweet. "I got a question for ya. Why's it that you let that BEAST of a child anywhere near you? You know nothing about him, not truly, words aside. Can you trust what a pathological liar tells you? He could be lying, he could be trying to get into your good side and betray you. He's a liar, a thief, and a traitor to his people. Why would he be loyal to a group of MAGES who remind him of everything he was trying to escape for gods know how long?"

“ Ye think fer a second it hadn’t gone through my mind? Ye wants to rile me up, good job, but not gonna work the way you want it to, ye shite. And bare with me I’m gonna tell ye why and ye’s gonna be stuck on this long ass rant, and then I will fuckin cut that tounge and throat of yers, and ye’s not going to have a say on it. ”

“ One of very few get us. And ironically this “beast of a child” has managed to treat us, or feing to treat us, more humanely than a lot of humans on our own kindgom. Of course it feels too fucking good, because we’ve got many on our kingdom that do this already, and speak of us the same way you speak of him. “ He lets a low, rumbling growl from his troat. If the anon could hear it, he would hear the already hissing magic growing rather agitated behind the mage’s back. Like an animal who has had their territory crossed, tail snapping to its sides, ears pinned back and bearing fangs as a warning. “ Why ye think I snapped at him as a fuckin lion? ‘Course I don’t trust ‘im wholy. Hell, I am terrified. How well has it gone to ours with trusting others that hadn’t aged nor grew arounds us? “

“ Agar has been cut, burn and hurt many times in thirty years, he’s got the body scars of an old veteran, in about THIRTY YEARS, the amount of scars he’s got should be on a war mage of about Braigon’s age, not him. Gilrin has been used by the fucking council and their dogs for years, Thanneth taken advantage of and granted, fucking Belle, for fuck’s sake! ‘is own kingdom, ‘is own family, they all shunned him like they shun us. Captains had demoted Braigon in his younger days to escape a scold, and Rho? He’s sent people he thought as friends to jail for it, not one, twice or thrice, let me tell ye. “ Hands claw at his face, frustrated, then at his neck as if he wanted to tear off his own bones and throat. Before punching a nearby object, it hurts, but it is better to take it off at something than just keep the feeling there, anything to let off the sensation that kept torturing him when made aware of it. “ And ‘ol me? Had people pretend things only to snap at me, fuckin outraged because I did not give them their due, time and time again. And when I express myself like I fuckin want? I get knocked, punished and spoken like if I was a rabid, mindless, bloodthristy animal. Then said my feral behavior has no place on their civilized society. Of fuckin course I’m going to be wary to some extent, of course it will feel too damn good to have someone like him around to be real. “

“ Sometimes I wish I had chosen to kick him out then, it would make life way easier. “ He then simply sits on the ground, face burrying on his hands as he lets one of the longest groans he’s ever had. “ Wouldn’t have to deal with this, stagnancy was far easier. I wouldn’t have to fear change, I wouldn’t have to doubt as many things as I do now, I wouldn’t feel like I was about to jump from the edge to the abyss in a blind leap of faith. I wouldn’t have to allways have the nagging feel in the back of my mind that there is something off, then be torn between trying to stop that feel, and stop what causes it. But then I would be again a miserable fool, with greats amounts of money, and little self-fullfillment found in life other than the few people and things he enjoys only in the smallest of dosis, stagnant an’ likely bound to suffer worse ‘cause he’s clearly in the wrong somewhere in there, which only now I’m coming to fuckin see. I ‘ave someone more than to an extent my magic isn’t allways upset around with, which is a big breather, let me tell ye. “

“ Of course not knowing anything is terrifying, when trust is given, they can use what they know against ye, ye? Ye don’t have anything, ye’r left helpless and the only thing ye’s got is a bite and bark, while they have a whole arsenal. ‘Course part of me would instinctually show distrust when experiencing on an unknow situation, outside of my own comfort zone, and while feeling exposed… so ‘course I don’t trust him, not entirely… “

“ Which ye know what? It thoroughly sucks! The one thing that feels good also doesn’t feel so! It is fuckin rediculous. I want to improve, and I want to go further on in my own self-development. “ He wants to pull his hair off, but doesn’t instead he just just stands again, then moves to hit his head against a wall. He seems clearly distressed somewhere in the mess of emotions he’s showing currently. “ But the worst of it? I find myself wanting to believe it, I want to believe what feels like a thorough lie and danger to be good, That’s change isn’t too good to be true. That who I hired ‘s in fact the person I hired, that ‘ey ‘re a kid that did not come to my damn shop with ulterior motives, someone that, while problematic on some areas, is still a good kid just stumbling to my workplace in some way. And he in fact means well, and that I can grow fond of ‘im and trust him as a friend and dear apprentice, alike Gil does with her own students as if some were to her children. “

“ And ye know? Ye’s right on that last part, we are the least probable people for him to trust, the least rightfull! “ He moves away to start punching the object, barehanded, the alloy imbedded on his skin re-opening wounds and quickly painting it red, it hurts a lot, but does he care either? Not really, he needs an outting, something help him vent it off, something to take it on, something to exhaust him, in every concievable way. Which sadly to him doesn’t work very well, as soon enough he finds himself left with it being a useless mess. “ I can’t for shite understand why he’s here, why he’s stuck so long, and what could be the reasoning to want to do this, and that upsets me, but unlike some shites here, I.am.not.prying… “

“ And ye, we shouldn’t trust it. But ye know what? ” He growls again. He wishes to trust him, but… he won’t. Never blindly. Trust was a two way, and so long as one was closed, it wouldn’t be truly that, it could never be that. Will, however, be patient, await for it to show. and if not? Well, over time it shall show. The thought feels… bittersad-painfull, to him. “ What we do, what I do, won’t be chosen by a piece of shite like ye. I won’t pry the reasons behind, not like ye fuckin shites do to rile people up. Whatever reasons he’s got, are his. And ye know fucking what too? I changed my mind. ”

He moves in towards to grab the anon, before grabbing what he believes to be a sternum-like structure. Fingers burrying deep into the person’s flesh. Then he pulls, taking a good chunk of flesh, connective tissue and probably organs with it, leaving a bloodly mess behind and staining his clothes. then moves of to rip the person’s throat and cervical spine-like structure. He wasn’t going to let the person go away, no, he riled him up, ruined his day, touched matters he shouldn’t, knew things he shouldn’t. And he certainly wouldn’t let them have the chance to use what he’s just said, there is only six persons he will confide in this like this, and this fool wasn’t one of them.

And what that meant? Death, flat as that in his mind.

He stands there for a moment, before dropping the chunck he was gripping and letting the most frustrated of groans, followed soon by a growl. Oh, they fucking riled him and it ended with him killing someone. Look at his clothes! They are a mess, his nerves are a mess, the ground’s a mess, and everyone’s going to scold them on it. And he fucking hurt his hands AGAIN while on it.

Got fucking damn it, he hates getting riled up over things like these.

Sometimes he wishes he didn’t feel anything.

@cosmosfated

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theolddarkmachine · 7 years

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Kingdom- Chapter Seven

Gajeel has had the dream about dying for the blue haired girl for as long as he can remember. Which is weird, since he’s never met anyone with blue hair in his life.

Levy has always loved myths and legends. So much so, in fact, that she was currently getting her master’s in mythological studies.

What neither of them realized was that they were living a legend all their own.

AKA the one with a knight, a princess, and a curse that keeps bringing them together just to pull them apart.

Previous Chapters

AO3

Hey y’all! This is one of those chapters that has to exist to get us from point A to point B, which are my least fave to write tbh lol mainly because those kinds of chapters are the hardest for me to write -.- Anyway, I’m gonna be taking a week off from writing because 1) I wrote 60k words in September and ya girl needs a break lol and 2) Voltron S4 happens Friday so I wanna use my free time to binge XD im an adult i swear. ANYWAY, that being said, I’ll be sharing other writers’ fics for the week instead of working on anything myself! Kingdom will most likely be back around 10/20-10/23 time.

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

Almost as soon as the door to Gajeel’s complex slammed behind her, a searing pain shot through Levy’s skull, blinding her momentarily as it nearly knocked her down with its force. The brick of the entryway bit into the skin of her back as she stumbled back into it, the air whooshing out of her lungs in one loud gasp. Her hands found the stone pressed into her back, feeling the coolness from the Fall chilled air beneath her fingers as the pain settled into a thrumming ache.

A beat passed.

And then another.

Curious eyes watched as people walked by, interested enough to twist their necks as they went but not enough to become involved. It was the kind of faux concern that made the passerby feel like a good Samaritan for showing the most basic level of human compassion without actually doing anything. The feeling of it made her skin crawl.

“I’m never drinking again,” she moaned to no one in particular as she breathed in through her nose and slowly out through her mouth. Levy had never been one to get the textbook hangover, always sidestepping the nausea and headaches that almost always made Lucy turn into a recluse for at least a day. Of course, she’d also never really been one for drinking until she lost an entire chunk of her memory either. She groaned again as she fought back the shame of waking up in Gajeel’s room without any recollection of how she’d gotten there.

Unfortunately, there was always a first time for everything.

Several moments came and went as she regained her bearings, her breath finally settling out as the pain dulled but never fully subsided. Only after the city stopped spinning around her did Levy finally push out of the doorway, counting each step in an attempt to ground herself. It took several counted sets of 100 steps before she finally reached her own complex, the cool AC of the bright hallway freezing the sweat on the back of her neck that had accumulated from the walk. Her front door was a welcome sight as she stumbled towards it, swiftly sheathing the key in the lock as she pushed it open.

Before her lay a mess of cups, knocked over books, and discarded clothing. A nagging sense of alarm bubbled in her gut as she looked over the chaos that told the story of her night. The casual disarray didn’t align with the vague memories she held of her and Lucy as they’d spoke and drank, never once touching her bookcase. Even the clothes that she’d tried on had been laid out on her bed, waiting for her to return home and replace them on their hangers.

The pain that had rooted itself in the line between her temple and the base of her skull flared as she took it in, trying to match the scene before her with that of the scenes in her mind. It felt like a crime scene as opposed to a living room after a fun night of partying and the sense of foreboding didn’t escape her as her eyes swept the area. Pushing down the bitter bile that was raising in her throat, Levy shut the door behind her and dropped her keys on the small dish that sat on the shelf by her door.

I just don’t remember, that’s all, she thought to herself as she walked further into the room, eyes scanning the chaos as if she could pull answers from the scattered mess. The longer she looked, the easier it was for Levy to convince herself that the disorganization was just another piece of missing memory wiped away by alcohol. It was the only explanation that dulled the edge of the sharp unease cutting down her spine. With a resigned sigh, she walked through the living area and by her desk, gaze taking stock of the state of it, only to feel her pulse leap.

Levy stopped in her tracks, the dull ache in her temples roaring to life as she stared at the opened book of stories. Spread wide with its painted pages staring upwards, it sat otherwise undisturbed on her desk amongst her notebooks and writing utensils. Her limbs seized as her eyes traced over the wide span of the tome as she worked her way through the muddled thoughts of the night before once again.

She’d closed the book.

Levy could still hear the heavy thud of its leather cover closing over its ancient pages as if the sound was still echoing against the cream walls of her room. Even if she was missing a piece of what had happened that night before, Levy knew Lucy would never have allowed her to return to the book, the night partially born from the belief she was overworked.

Drawing closer to her desk and swallowing her heart as it beat its hummingbird rhythm in her throat. With each step forward, the pain at her temple ebbed away, chased from her by the stifling weight of exhaustion as if the very air around her was sucking the energy from her bones. It was a visceral thing, starting at her very core and working its way through her limbs until she ached with the numbing chill of it. Faltering, the chair at her desk met her as her legs gave out and plopped her onto the soft cushioning.

The portrait lay before her now, as vivid as the painting of the queen from the day before and filling her with the same sense of ominous dread. Thin black lines and swirling colors swirled across the alabaster page, moving together to create an intricate scene filled with such beauty and despair, it almost hurt to look at it. Laying on the ground of what looked like a castle room, was a black haired knight in onyx armor. The ruby of his eyes was bright, only challenged by the vivid scarlet of the blood that had spilled out beneath him from a gash that stood out on his armor just over where his heart had beat beneath the darkened steel. His head was cradled in the lap of a blue haired woman whose face was partially obscured by the azure strands that fell over it as she looked down at him. Garnet stained the sun colored dress she wore with macabre streaks.

Just beside the woman, right at her knee, was a blood stained dagger.

As she stared at it, the strange debilitating sensation racking against her insides fought with her will as she tried to keep her eyes trained on the image. It all looked so familiar. Prickling over her skin with the same demanding tingle of deja vu, Levy fought to reach out towards the memory that commanded to be remembered.

The world crackled and shifted around Levy as she pulled herself closer to the page. Her heart thumped in the base of her throat, angrily combating the tiredness that was threatening to sink her as she stared at the woman’s sorrow filled face. The thick, cloying taste of familiarity threatened to choke her as she tried to swallow it down and keep it locked behind her teeth. Her gaze slid from the woman to the knight’s blazing red eyes as she struggled to bring her hand up towards the painting. Levy’s eyelids grew heavier as she traced the outline of the couple with a shaking finger. The resemblance was striking, and she felt her lungs fighting against the cage of her ribs as she fought off the torpor that was sliding like thick concrete through her limbs. There was no doubt that the blue haired woman was the same as the one from her dream.

The same as her.

She stared at the painting’s downturned eyes, rivulets of tears cascading down her cheeks as her thin hand was frozen in a caress over the man’s face. Her own fingers trembled with the illustrated touch that she could almost feel against her own skin. A sadness crawled slowly into her chest, curling around her heart before evolving into a breath stealing, earth moving despair. Sobs for a heartache she didn’t even know rolled off her lips as tears blurred her vision, melting the blacks, blues and reds of the image together into a molten bruise.

He died. The stray thought flitted through her mind as the heavy cloud of fatigue weighed her down, guiding her head down onto the desk beside the book. He died in my arms.

Darkness was eating away at the edges of her vision as she ran the pad of her index finger over the grim expression on the knight’s face.

On Gajeel’s face.

As the shadows spilled over her sight, the distant sound of voices hummed in her ears. The paralyzing blanket of sleep settled over her as her eyes finally closed, the chatter increasing as she sunk into its inky depths. Before her senses faded completely, a single, heartbroken howl ripped through the darkness.

“Gajeel!”

***

“She’s pretty,” Lily said as he fixed Gajeel with his onyx stare. A strange light glittered in the depths of his eyes as he looked at him as if he could pull a response straight from him. Something about Lily’s interest felt wrong, a hidden agenda lurking underneath every word as he’d questioned him about the blue haired woman from the bar. Though they were best friends, Lily had never shown an interest in Gajeel’s personal affairs. He could count the number of times his brother had asked him specifically about his love life-- or rather, lack thereof-- on one hand.

One finger, in fact.

And it was when Lily had pushed his way into Gajeel’s apartment without so much as a hello. It had raised his hackles, as well as his guard, though he had let the man in all the same only to find himself on the receiving end of an inquisition. After dropping his heavy black jacket down onto the back of the couch, and settling himself into the soft leather, he’d made himself at home as Gajeel’s own personal interrogator. If he knew that this was what Lily had had in mind when he’d called him that morning, he wouldn’t have even answered the phone. He’d barely listened as his brother spoke, lost momentarily in the inky coloring that had stained the skin beneath Lily’s eyes as if he hadn’t slept at all.

He looks older, he’d thought to himself as he continued to speak, asking more and more questions about Levy.

A throbbing pressure blossomed between his ears as the visit went on, making him more irritable than usual as Lily continued to poke and prod him for answers. He told himself that was the reason he was giving Lily monosyllabic answers that were bitter on the tip of his tongue, and not because for the first time in his life, he distrusted Lily. If his brother had noticed the barely hidden suspicion that darkened his tone, he didn’t let on as he persisted with his insistent questioning.

You saved her from getting hit by a truck?

Who was driving it?

Did you stop it?

And you guys went on a date?

The last question was what broke him of his stoic stance, the words erupting from him before he could stop himself.

“You seem awfully interested, Lil,” Gajeel nearly spat as he fixed his brother with a scowl. His face stayed carefully blank at the angry remark, which only filled him with caustic apprehension. The feeling razed his insides and burned against his ribcage until there was nothing left but stinging nerves.

You have to make sure she gets home safe. Lily’s voice from the night before was clear over the muddled pain that had settled itself deep in his head. The thick sweetness of suspicion coated his tongue as he remembered the way his brother had suggested he take her home. At the time it had felt as if Lily was just concerned for a girl who was too drunk to be alone. Gajeel would have helped her anyway, without the suggestion that had been thrust upon him until he’d finally conceded. Now, he couldn’t shake the bitter realization that maybe Lily had an ulterior motive behind his good guy act.

“You aren’t telling me something.” Gajeel ignored the betrayal that made his words quiver against his lips. Silence stretched between them as they held each others gazes, a battle of crimson and obsidian waging against each other in a show of dominance. Hours forced themselves into the span of just a handful of seconds before Lily dropped his gaze.

“Are you still having that dream?” His voice seemed distant as Lily finally spoke. It carried the heavy weight of insinuation over its bluntness, not even bothering to mask the innuendo in the words. Almost as soon as the words had left his mouth, the headache rammed angrily against his skull, blocking out all other thoughts as it hammered away at his brain. A grimace twisted his face as the sharp pain stole his breath.

The room pitched on its axis and his stomach rolled with the sudden lurch. Everything shuddered and shook around him as Gajeel clutched at his consciousness, Lily’s face blurring in his vision as he frowned. Darkness descended over him as his lips parted in silent protest. The last thing he heard was Lily’s soft voice as it cracked and twisted over his words.

“I’m sorry, Gajeel.”

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

#gajevy #Gajeel X Levy #Gajeel Redfox #Levy McGarden #fairy tail #fairy tail fanfiction #kingdom #i went into this knowing it would be my least fave chapter #and to me it reads like it and ugh #basically im kinda sorry this is the chapter im leaving yall on before my break #but it had to be done #even though i hate it lol #cuz its like.... STUFF HAPPENS #BUT NOT ENOUGH STUFF?#LIKE IT WAS THE BUILD UP AND YOU GOTTA HAVE BUILD UP #THE NEXT CHAPTER IS GONNA BE AWESOME THOUGH #I LOVE IT ALREADY LOL #THIS IS THE PEAK AT THE TOP OF THE ROLLERCOASTER BEFORE WE GO OVER AND SHIT GETS WILD

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sufferthesea · 7 years

Text

Tagged by my sweet @pyroinquisitor ! Thank you!!

THE LAST

1. drink: Water! I have 7 water bottles in my room and I try to drink at least 4 of them a day. 2. phone call: AHAHAHA LIKE I TALK ON THE PHONE. (Actually, today I answered a call from my mom and almost ripped my thumb nail off on the chair trying to get to the phone.) 3. text message: I haven’t bought minutes for my phone so my last text was in June, saying “Your service ends soon”. 4. song you listened to: What Kind of Man by Florence + the Machine 5. time you cried: Teary-eyed or tears running down my face? Teary-eyed, today. Actual crying, ??? not sure! 6. dated someone twice: Nope! I’ve never dated! 7. kissed someone and regretted it: Theatre kisses don’t count (and neither do kisses on the cheek??), so I’ve never kissed anyone. 8. been cheated on: No 9. lost someone special: Yes. Many people. 10. been depressed: Yes. Gotta love that Frosty Fresh Depression 11. gotten drunk and thrown up: Never been drunk!

3 FAVOURITE COLOURS

12. Purple 13. Yellow 14. Soft pastels and earth tones

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU

15. made new friends: Yes!! 💖 16. fallen out of love: Yes! Good riddance! 👋 17. laughed until you cried: Yes! 18. found out someone was talking about you: Yep! But the people they were talking to stopped being friends with them and now want to be my friend 😂 19. met someone who changed you: Hmmm, I think so? 20. found out who your friends are: Yes! 21. kissed someone on your facebook list: If stage kisses and kisses on the cheek count, then yes! That’d be like 20 ppl 😂😂

GENERAL

22. how many of your facebook friends do you know in real life: Almost all of them! Most are family, high school friends, and college friends. 23. do you have any pets: Yes, a dog! He’s old and grumpy but I love him. I used to have a bearded dragon named Sylar and I miss him dearly. 24. do you want to change your name: Sometimes, but I really like it because it’s unique even tho it’s unisex and also a surname... and no one can say it correctly.... and I never see it anywhere.... 25. what did you do for your last birthday: I can’t remember? My bday is close to my sister’s and dad’s, and it was close to my graduation so I think we had a combo birthday-grad dinner. 26. what time did you wake up: Alarms at 7.30am and 8am, and I woke up at 9am (-: 27. what were you doing at midnight last night: Showering 28. name something you can’t wait for: To get another first draft of my original story done. Plot revision is a motivation killer. 29. when was the last time you saw your mom: Like 30min ago when I went to the kitchen. 30 has disappeared. RIP. 31. what are you listening to right now: Pity Party by MelMar. 32. have you ever talked to a person named Tom: I knew a kid whose middle name was Tom, so yes! 33. something that is getting on your nerves: My own procrastination. 34. most visited website: YouTube, Tumblr, FB, gmail 35. hair colour: My hair is kinda weird bc of my parents. But it’s really dark brown (from my mom) with gold and red (from my mom’s mom and dad)?? And then I have chunks of blonde from when I bleached it and had purple, pink, and blue highlights. 36. long or short hair: It’s medium but I want to grow it back to how it used to be. I used to have the longest hair at my school (to my waist)! I miss it a lot. 37. do you have a crush on someone: NO!! No one real anyway. Fictional characters? Always. Choose a show or game and I probably have a crush on one of the characters. 38. what do you like about yourself: I like what other people have said about me: I’m the most compassionate person they’ve met; I have good energy; I’m easy to talk to. I also like that I am able to write and draw fairly well. (-: 39. want any piercings: Yes but I haven’t had a good experience with my past piercings. There’s a piercing/tattoo artist I know and trust but he’s sooooo far away ))-: 40. blood type: idek 41. nickname: Immy, Bee, C.B., Hoe, literally sooo many but most are family-only nicknames. Some old nicknames are Sensei and Onee-chan/Ane-chan. I also called myself Obaa because I felt old talking to ppl who just entered the fandom haha. But never I was never called Senpai ))): 42. relationship status: Single Pringle! 43. zodiac: Taurus / Boar 44. pronouns: she/her 45. favourite tv show: idk probably anything with an Asian cast bc I like seeing my people onscreen 46. tattoos: Not yet, but if I ever get one I have a rough design done. 47. right or left handed: Right but I’m teaching myself to become ambidextrous 48. surgery: None that I remember 49. piercing: Ears 50. sport: No! I used to do cross country in elementary school? 51. vacation: Love love love any Lewis & Clark vacations. Lewis is my husband and I would die for him. 52. pair of trainers: My only tennis shoes are faded and worn-out 3 y.o. purple and gray/silver ones I bought in my WTNV phase. I don’t like shoes so I haven’t bought new ones even tho I should.

MORE GENERAL

53. eating: Nothing 54. drinking: Water 55. im about to: Listen to music and finish Chap 3 of HBAM and maybe do some Kakashi Week prompts 56. waiting for: Myself to stop being lazy 57. want: To lay under my falsa blanket in bed and get some work done 58. get married: Yes!! I’m so excited to get married (-: I know it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, but it’s so awesome to think that I’ll get to spend the rest of my life loving on someone and being comfortably dorky around them 59. career: I want to be an author! Ppl tell me I should go into writing (screenplays or articles), drawing (book illustrations) or counseling, and my older sis wants me to be a teacher with her. 60. hugs or kisses: I’m selective about who gives me affection tbh, and I’m more of a hand-holder so idk 61. lips or eyes: Lips. I have a hard time keeping eye contact and paying attention to what’s being said. I feel like they’re looking into my soul. 62. shorter or taller: I luv being taller than people but I want my hubby to be taller than me! 63. older or younger: I’m both middle and oldest child in my mixed family. I want to marry someone older, but I like being the oldest in my friend group. 64. nice arms or nice stomach: Nice arms make me weak 66. troublemaker or hesitant: I used to be a troublemaker, but now I’m hesitant

HAVE YOU EVER

67. kissed a stranger: No, but I proposed to one during a scavenger hunt (he said yes). 68. drank hard liquor: How hard is “hard”? 69. lost glasses/contact lenses: Yes. I never wear my glasses so I misplace them a lot. 70. turned someone down: Had to turn someone down for other ppl because they wouldn’t take no for an answer 71. sex on the first date: No! I’ve never been on a date either ahahah 72. broken someone’s heart: Possibly 73. had your heart broken: Yes! Multiple times! But it heals stronger every time! 74. been arrested: No 75. cried when someone died: Yes 76. fallen for a friend: Yeah /:

DO YOU BELIEVE IN

77. yourself: Yes but then I feel full of myself 78. miracles: Yes ?? But not like, cosmic miracles? I believe in God, ya know? so His miracles ?? 79. love at first sight: Yes! (reminds me of the county bailiff and grilled cheese food car guys I fell in love with when I moved down here lolol) 80. santa claus: SANTA IS THE BEST (but, practically, no) 81. kiss on the first date: On the cheek or back of the hand, sure?? I’ve never been on a date???? 82. angels: Yes!

OTHER

83. current best friends’ names: Goldie 84. eye colour: Hazel (mostly green) 85. favourite movie: Jurassic Park, Across the Universe, The New World, Howl’s Moving Castle, Spirited Away

Hopefully I filled them all in and didn’t leave Pyro’s answers hahaha

Tagging @thefoxthief @purple-possibilities @thetoxicstrawberry @ninja-crows @iyo-arts But only if you want to do it!

#sorry this took me so long #long post for ts #tumblr meme #tumblr friends #akimi has friends #tagged meme #about me #sorry if i forgot to tag anyone!!#mine 44 #akimi.txt

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ylla · 8 years

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Friday Night Gurus - Chapter 1

Series: JJBA Ships: josuyasu (others will eventually happen too, but im tagging as i go) Tags: au where theyre famous, modern au, pining, josuke is a hot mess and has exactly 0 chill Rating: T (for this chapter only, bc eventually there will be sex/smoking the devil’s lettuce)

AO3 link

reeeeee so i’ve been in and out of the doctor’s office with a sinus infection so intense, i’ve been to the ER due to pain. fun shit. i came up with this AU while listening to music while waiting for someone to come smother me with a pillow to put me out of my misery.

this unbeta’d because i wrote this on my phone while waiting. i plan on keeping up with this idea because it delights me. next chapter will follow shortly too, because i’m trying to break this up into smaller chunks as i hammer it out on my phone (which fucking sucks, lemme tell ya). if you notice anything weird, tell me about it so i can fix it!!

The first time Josuke Higashikata meets Okuyasu Nijimura was because of a fuckup in a magazine photo shoot schedule. The shoot in question was for a feature in Rolling Stone; award season was coming soon and they wanted to feature the current Biggest Names in Music. Some poor intern (who was probably promptly fired) fucked up EVERYONE’S schedule, so all the bands and singers had to come in during the same hellish week in June. It was a nightmare for all involved.

Of course, the cover would feature the biggest name in the industry which, naturally, was Josuke. Discovered at sixteen, with two world tours, four albums (two of which went platinum), and at least 20 different awards, he was twenty-four and still going. His latest album dropped too late for Grammy consideration last year, but he was feeling real confident. This was his year. He’ll get that fucking Grammy, even if he killed him.

Josuke still considered himself to be a chill, down-to-earth kind of man despite his superstardom; able to roll with the punches whenever they came. He got that sometimes things just didn’t go your way, but he still couldn’t help it when his precious time off gets thwarted by some dumb idiot.

“What the fuck, Koichi?” Josuke whined on their way to the shoot, “Why couldn’t have this happened literally like, last week?”

Koichi Hirose was his manager, agent, PR guy, and truth be told, the only person beside his mother and grandfather who truly knew him. “Stop whining, it’s not the end of the world.”

“Dude, this was supposed to be my first week off in forever—“

For someone who was 5’3 and weighed 110lbs soaking wet, Koichi could be intimidating. He gave Josuke a look before parking and turning off the car, “Can’t be helped. They wanted to do the cover shoot last since there’s two of them.”

Josuke made a face. He forgot that this would be a dual cover. Him on one side, some band on the other. “Who’s the other band?”

Like he was still in school, Koichi started rattling off some facts, “Arrowhead, they’re a metal band. Comprised of four members. Skyrocketed up the charts this past year with their second album. You guys fought over #1 album and singles on Billboard on and off all year.” Koichi was the type of guy who always did his homework, “Now come on, you’re gonna be late.”

The shoot was operating in some random ass warehouse in some backassward part of Los Angles. Josuke and Koichi waltz into some giant room that was getting set up; a group of 4 people huddled in a corner eating what appeared to be a large quantity of Taco Bell with a sharp dressed man standing near them. Josuke’s kind of people.

“Oi! Tonio!” Koichi called out with a wave, before gesturing at Josuke to follow him over. Josuke barely restrained an eyeroll; his hair was up in a ponytail and he was wearing some worn-out sweats with an old t-shirt, not exactly looking good for first introductions.

“Koichi,” the finely dressed man shook Koichi’s outstretched hand, “good to see you.”

“Josuke, this is Tonio Trussardi, we work at the same agency.” Koichi gestured at Tonio, “And Tonio, this is Josuke Higashikata.”

Josuke held out his hand and got a firm handshake, “Nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Tonio’s eyes sparkled. He let go of Josuke’s hand and gestured to the group of people sitting behind him, “These are my charges, Arrowhead.”

He started with introductions, pointing to a man leaned up against the wall, who had sleepy eyes and a face Josuke would find attractive if it wasn’t for the tattoo on his chin, “Yuuya Fungami, drummer.” Yuuya nodded in greeting. Tonio pointed to a pretty girl with long black hair who was intently staring at Koichi, “Yukako Yamagishi, lead guitarist.” She didn’t even acknowledge Josuke, but held out a hand for Koichi to shake (which he did, if a little hesitant due to her staring). He swept a hand towards a man with impressively tall hair and two braids, “Keicho Nijimura, bassist.” Keicho gave them a cold stare and said nothing. “And last, but not least,” Tonio clapped his hand on a scarred man who had been too busy slamming a taco the entire time and didn’t notice people had walked up, “Okuyasu Nijimura, lead singer and rhythm guitarist.”

Okuyasu jumped a little, before turning a little pink and waving, “Sup?” His voice sounded he had came out of the womb smoking like a freight train.

Josuke was taken aback when he got a good look at the guy. The symmetrical scars running parallel on Okuyasu’s face did nothing to detract from how goddamn hot he was. Square jaw, angular face, black and silver hair pulled up into a ponytail, three piercings in each ear, ripped arms that had tattoos snaking up them, good God almighty. The first thought that entered Josuke’s mind when looking Okuyasu in the face was Oh no, he’s hot. The first words out of his mouth were “Those tacos smell so fuckin’ good.” Real smooth.

Without another word, Okuyasu offered him one. Josuke ignored how the blonde guy glared at him, and took the proffered taco, “Thanks dude.”

“S’no prob.”

As Josuke started chowing down, about to start chatting up the cute guy, when Okuyasu unceremoniously got up and walked away. Trying not to look so bitter, Josuke turned towards Koichi, but Yukako was asking him incredibly personal questions about his life, while Tonio started ushering Yuuya to hair and makeup, “Photographer’s not here yet, but you need to be ready since you’re the first up.”

“Yeah yeah, stop pushing.”

Keicho’s cold stare was unwavering and was starting to give Josuke the heebie jeebies, “Oi, Koichi. I’m gonna have a smoke.” Josuke didn’t bother to listen for Koichi’s stammered reproach before heading outside (which might have been a strangled cry for help). Truth be told, he really didn’t need a cigarette, he just kind of wanted to go pout. But luck would have it, when he went outside, Okuyasu was sitting on the curb with earbuds in, watching some video. Nosy as shit, Josuke hovered over his shoulder to see what he watching, “Are you watching Real Housewives of Atlanta??”

Okuyasu nearly jumped out of his skin, phone fumbling in his hand, “Oh shit!” he whipped around, wearing glasses he didn’t have on earlier, unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, “Uh, I can explain.”

Oh no, he’s so fuckin’ cute Josuke hollered inwardly. He held his hands up in defense, “Sorry man, didn’t mean to scare ya.” Pulling out his own pack of cigarettes, he sat down beside him on the curb, “Don’t gotta explain anything to me, I love trashy reality shows.”

“You ain’t makin’ fun of me, are ya?” Okuyasu asked, scowling.

“What? Nah, reality shows are the shit. I love binge watching them.” Josuke fished around in his pocket, “You got a lighter?”

As if Okuyasu was trying to divine if Josuke was lying, he stared at him for a few seconds before handing over his lighter, “Jus’ asking. Keicho gives me shit for watching them, but they’re hilarious.”

Josuke lit his cigarette, “Don’t let anyone tell you how to live your life.” Inhale. He gave Okuyasu a serious look, speaking on the exhale and handing his lighter back, “Fuck what he thinks.”

Okuyasu was quiet while he lit up and took a drag. For a moment, Josuke was worried that he had already overstepped his boundaries with someone he literally just met. God, no wonder he didn’t have any friends.

He was snapped out of mentally kicking his own ass when Okuyasu spoke, holding up his right earbud, “Wanna watch with me?”

“Hell yes I do, which episode are you on?”

“The one where Ridickulous shows up—“

“THAT’S MY FAVORITE ONE—“

“DUDE, MINE TOO.”

They ended up talking while watching, not really paying much attention to the show until Ridickulous showed up, which was met with raucous laughter. Josuke learned that Keicho was Okuyasu’s older brother, that the only thing better than chocolate or strawberry ice cream was strawberry ice cream with chocolate chunks, he smoked his cigarettes like he did his joints, he smelled insanely good, most of his tattoos didn’t have much more meaning than “They looked cool as shit when my dude drew them”, and that Okuyasu Nijimura was the most genuine person he had ever met. He was sweet, eager to please, loud, and friendly. Josuke was already dangerously enamored.

Josuke hadn’t even been aware of how much time passed until Koichi came out, “They’re looking for you guys. Keicho’s almost done, so you both need to go to hair and makeup.” Yukako hovered in behind Koichi, her eye’s sliding between Okuyasu and Josuke with a blank expression on her face.

“Shit, I hadn’t even realized,” Josuke stood up and held a hand out to help Okuyasu up, “Let’s go before we get murdered.”

With a grin, Okuyasu took his hand and hopped up, “Yeah, god forbid we disappear for a minute.”

It was hilarious watching Okuyasu, who had never had makeup put on him in all his life, grimace as his face was caked. “This shit smells weird.”

Josuke couldn’t help but cackle while he did his own hair, “Get used to it, dude. This is your life now.”

Makeup finished, Okuyasu got started on his own hair, “Josuke, the least surprisin’ thing you could ever tell me about yourself is the fact that you don’t let anyone else do your hair.” He was fighting with stubborn strands that didn’t want to stay still, “The pomp is cool, you pull it off.”

A quick glance in the mirror told Josuke that he managed to keep his blush to a minimum, “Thanks dude, you got some slick style there yourself.” The shy, pleased grin that crossed Okuyasu’s face was an image he wanted branded to the inside of his eyelids.

Okuyasu was up for pictures first, looking anxious and green. It was clear to Josuke that he had no idea what he was doing. “Dude, just relax!” he shouted, “You’re looking fine!” What he didn’t say was that he meant that two ways. With a slight nod, Okuyasu relaxed slightly, and his pictures started coming out better. Josuke was trying to go for the somewhat disinterested watching, but damn, he couldn’t help but stare. This dude was cute. Out of the corner of his eye, Josuke caught Keicho staring at him again. What was that guy’s deal??

He couldn’t ruminate on an answer, because as soon as he thought that, Yuuya suddenly sat down beside him, causing Josuke to yelp in a totally manly way, “Jesus! You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry dude,” Yuuya was eating a leftover taco, “Busy watchin’ the show?” He tilted his head toward the photographer fussing at Okuyasu, shit-eating grin on his face.

Josuke did not like that smug look Yuuya was sporting, “He looks nervous. Jus’ tryin’ to help him out.”

“That’s just how he is,” without looking over his shoulder, Yuuya tossed the taco wrapper behind him, hitting a trashcan, “He doesn’t know how to chill out.”

They sat in silence few a couple of minutes before the eyes Josuke felt on his back were getting on his last goddamned nerve, “Why is that guy staring at me like I murdered everyone he’s ever cared about?”

Yuuya eyed Keicho for a second before shrugging, “That’s just how he is too.”

Before Josuke could even ask what the fuck that even meant, Keicho punched Yuuya’s shoulder as he walked by, “Come on, asshole. It’s time for the cover.”

“Ow, that fuckin’ hurt, dickhead.” Taking his time, Yuuya stood up and stretched, rubbing his punched shoulder. “By the way, Okuyasu’s single,” Yuuya said casually, as if he was answering a question that had been posed.

Josuke sputtered, his face scarlet, “WHAT MAKES YOU THINK—“

Yuuya pointed at his nose, “I got a nose for romance,” and then he dead ass winked at Josuke before walking away. Josuke wondered if he was that obvious. Perhaps that explains why big bro Keicho stared daggers at him. Maybe he needed to work on being subtle, but Higashikata’s were never, ever subtle (thanks mom).

The cover shoot didn’t take too long, much to Josuke’s surpise. Not a whole lot of time passed before it was Josuke’s turn. Okuyasu was dragging his feet, watching intently, while Keicho was demanding they leave. Tonio, bless him, told them that he needed to speak to Koichi about business matters before they left (mercifully saving him from Yukako’s question of “What do you look for in a woman?”) Josuke didn’t know if Tonio was picking up on something, or just making assumptions, but he appreciated it.

When the pictures were mercifully done, Josuke ran to the bathroom real quick to reorient himself, muttering under his breath, “Okay, Higashikata. You got this. You’re cool, suave, and undeniably handsome.” Josuke applied a quick coat of lip gloss before heading back out there, “Get that cute guy’s number.”

After leaving the bathroom, Josuke was greeted to an almost empty room. Okuyasu was nowhere to be found. In fact no one associated with Arrowhead was there; Keicho had muscled them out of the door as soon as Josuke left the room, Koichi helpfully explained, patting Josuke’s shoulder as he felt his confidence leak out of him like a sad balloon.

Josuke pouted the whole way home, and Koichi couldn’t tempt him out of a foul mood. “Josuke, what’s the problem??” Koichi asked, finally fed up with his huffing and sighing, “Why are you like this?”

“Koichi, I’m gay,” Josuke said, head leaned against the window.

“I know this, you’ve told me before. What does that have to do with you sighing like a moody teenager?”

“I was gonna ask Okuyasu for his number, but they left before I could.” He felt like a fucking fool, why did he have to run to the bathroom like a scared baby? It was taking a lot of effort to not punch his own face in. “That Yuuya guy told me he was single and everything. Was I that obvious??”

As they sat at a stoplight, Koichi patted his shoulder, tactfully choosing to not answer the last question, “Don’t sweat it, Hollywood is small. You’ll run into him again.” Actually, Koichi could easily get Okuyasu’s number, but he knew better than to offer. It would only hurt Josuke’s pride.

Josuke shrugged and changed the subject, deciding to throw a pity party for himself later, “So about that Yukako chick…”

Koichi grimaced, “She followed me around the whole time. Asked me how I got such a high powered client when we’re the same age! And a bunch of personal stuff like my underwear size and what kind of man did I consider myself to be.”

“At least she’s cute?” Josuke offered, an apologetic smile on his face.

“She is that…also intense. Very…intense…”

“Did you get her number?”

Koichi sighed as he pulled into Josuke’s driveway, “She took my phone, put her number in it, and then texted herself.”

“Damn,” Josuke snorted with mirth, “Hey man, you might end up getting laid before my dry spell ends. I’m rooting for ya.”

Josuke didn’t need to look at Koichi to know that he was getting a look. He hopped out of the car and waved goodbye as his friend pulled out of the driveway. Upon walking through the front door, he greeted an empty house. “I’m home!” he called out to no one. Josuke really wished his mom hadn’t moved back east, but after his grandfather had that heart attack and refused to move to Los Angeles, someone had to stay with him. He could use advice, and was tempted to call her. No, he was grown ass man. No advice from mom, you die like a man.

…He’ll just call her later.

One shower and ordered pizza later, Josuke laid on his bed, booted up both his laptop and PS4. It was time for Netflix and Learning As Much About Your Crush As Possible. With Netflix on Worst Cook’s in America, pizza in one hand, and beer in the other, he typed in Arrowhead into Google and got to work.

Two hours later, he laid on his bed, hands folded across his chest, and stared at his ceiling, Netflix and pizza forgotten. Arrowhead’s second, self-titled album had been on repeat for the last hour. Metal was never his cup of tea, but Okuyasu’s husky, rough voice made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and chills run down his spine. If he didn’t have it bad for Okuyasu before, he certainly fucking did now. Josuke briefly wondered if this is how he sounded when he woke up in the morning, or when he was needy and wanted—

Josuke promptly rolled over and started screaming into his pillow. Why was he like this?

You’re a fucking mess he thought to himself, You have it bad for a dude who you barely even know, just because the way he sings goes directly to your dick.

��He’s also really hot and nice,” Josuke mumbled aloud. He paused before tearing out of bed, determined to shower, do anything that would get his mind off of Okuyasu. “I also need to stop talking to myself!” he said, ripping his clothes off, jumping into lukewarm water.

After a long, somewhat cold shower, Josuke steeled himself. He was gonna get that fucking number.

#josuke higashikata #okuyasu nijimura #josuyasu #josuke x okuyasu #jjba

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