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dccomicsimagines · 3 years

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My Business - Clark Kent x Reader

Requested by Anon - A superman x reader imagine with the prompt: "I found your nose! It was in my business."

Requested by warblinglion0 - Hi! Could I request a Clark Kent imagine please??

***

Clark closed his eyes against the blowing snow. He flew over the city, using his super hearing to guide him. The city was quieter than normal. The snowstorm had shut almost everything down.

He sighed, swooping down to help a woman carry home groceries. “Thank you, Superman,” she shouted once she was at her building. Clark waved at her and took off into the sky again.

Most of his day was spent helping stranded people with the storm. He had already written his article about the impact of the storm on Metropolis’ sewer system. Perry could forgive boring content when the storm created a slow news day. Clark snorted. He bet Lois found some kind of amazing story in this weather.

He landed on the top of the Daily Planet. The cold air felt sharp in his lungs. It reminded him of winters at home. He looked out at the snow covered city, thinking of turning in. A cup of hot chocolate while watching that documentary he felt would give him an edge in a story he was researching. He felt warm already.

“Get lost, jerk.” Your voice hit his ears. Clark’s eyes widened in surprise. It was like he was subconsciously listening for you sometimes. Your voice always came to him in the moments he never suspected.

He floated into the air, searching for you. You sounded too close to be at your apartment across town.

“Stupid, country bum,” a man’s voice echoed near you. Clark heard a door slam. He flew faster before slowing when he found you trudging through the snow in the street. His stomach dropped at how underdressed you were. You didn’t even have a coat on.

He almost flew down to you, but he stopped himself. People couldn’t see Superman around you. Too risky. He quickly flew to his apartment only a block away. Changing into regular clothes, he made sure to pick up an extra coat for you before zooming back to you.

***

You wrapped your arms around yourself and cursed your situation. Why didn’t you bring a coat? Why did you decide to go the the club during a snowstorm? You shook your head, feeling the snow settled on your head. Everything was shut down. You shivered, crossing the street to make the long walk home.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing out here?” Clark’s voice made you jump. You spun around, seeing him run over to you. Ironically, he was dressed for the weather. Funny since he couldn’t feel the cold. “Where’s your coat?” He had an extra coat over his arm, which he quickly wrapped around you. You slipped your arms in the sleeves, noting how warm it was.

A shaky laugh escaped you. “I found your nose. It’s in my business...again.” You tapped his nose before struggling to zip up the coat. Your fingers were already numb, burning from the cold. Clark shook his head, smiling as he zipped it for you.

“Come on. It’s too far for you to go home now. My place is nearby.” He wrapped a strong arm around you and led you home. “Now why are you out in this weather?”

He was so warm and his big frame blocked the wind. “Well, I got invited to a club by some friends of Lucy’s.” You bit your lip. “I thought I’d go, but then one of the guys started making fun of me when I didn’t know what...” You stopped yourself from spilling the embarrassing conversation. “Never mind.”

“You’re always getting in trouble.” Clark unlocked his building’s front door and held it open for you. You hurried inside, stomping your feet to knock off the snow. Shivers rocked your body, you could have swore ice was forming on your body.

“And you’re always popping up to help.” You rolled your eyes. “I never would have thought my good old brother, Pete, would ask you to keep an eye on me so much. Do you two even talk that much anymore?”

“We do.” Clark bit his lip. Pete Ross didn’t call him that much, but they always caught up when Clark went home for a visit. It was actually during one of those visits that Pete asked Clark to keep an eye on his younger sibling who got it into their head to move to Metropolis. Pete thought you were in over your head, and honestly, most of the time you were.

You pulled Clark’s jacket closer as you both headed to the elevator. “I mean there was that time where I was in that bad roommate situation, so you helped me move. Then I wanted to rent that one place for really cheap and you stepped in to show me how bad it was. Of course, then you came in with that offer to live with Lucy Lane in a nicer part of town.”

Clark blushed slightly. “Well, it’s the least I could do. I mean you’re practically family, (Y/N).”

Your stomach soured slightly. You were afraid he only saw you as Pete’s little tagalong sibling. Who could blame him when you felt so helpless most of the time? “I personally think it’s because you want to make up for breaking up my mud mask business in the fifth grade.”

He laughed hard, almost doubling over. “You were taking mud from the pond and mixing it with your mother’s perfume. It made three people break out in hives.”

“I had a warning label on it.” You smiled at his reaction. “And it was five dollars a bottle.”

Clark shook his head. “Ma actually bought one from you. She didn’t use it though. In fact, I think she still has it sitting in the garage.”

“Too bad for her. Lana swore by it. Said it cleared up her acne just like that.” You snapped your fingers, chuckling along with him. The elevator doors opened and Clark led the way down the hall to his apartment.

“In all seriousness though, you shouldn’t have went out with a storm on the way. The city shuts down during snowstorms.” Clark unlocked his apartment door and pushed it open to let you in first.

“The club was still open.” You wandered inside, flicking on the lights to take in the bland surroundings. The only personal items were a framed newspaper article and three family pictures of the Kents.

“Stupidly still open, yes.” Clark shut the door and locked it. “I’ll make some hot chocolate. Make yourself comfortable, (Y/N).” He took off his coat and shook it out before pulling off his shoes. You kept the coat on, still warming up.

Clark went into the kitchen and you trailed behind him. “Were you as helpless as me when you first moved here?” you asked suddenly as you took a seat at the counter. Clark blinked, turning to look at you while he turned on the stove.

“Yes. I had no idea what I was doing and I had a few tricky situations myself.” He smiled. “I’m glad I can help you not to make the same mistakes I did.”

You hummed. He turned back to start warming up the milk. “Of course it was easier for you. Being Superman and all.” Clark flinched, looking at you with wide eyes. You laughed at the sight. “I know. I know. We’re not supposed to talk about it. It’s the thing we know, but never speak of.”

Clark sighed. “I don’t think that made it easier for me.” He cleared his throat, turning back to the stove. “It was hard to hide my powers. To have some much noise around me all the time. Not to mention when I decided to become Superman.”

You watched him, noting the tension in his shoulders. Part of you wanted to go hug him, but you resisted. You didn’t know how he would react. “I remember the first time we knew for sure that you were something special. It was during winter break one year. You, Pete, and Tommy Johnson were trying to go ice fishing at the lake. I followed you because you wouldn’t let me come and I was being stubborn.”

“You fell through the ice because you walked on the thin part.” Clark hummed, getting out the chocolate mix.

“No one would have noticed, but you heard me scream.” You crossed your arms. The chill from the freezing water felt like a permanent scar every time you thought back on that day. “I went under the ice and I couldn’t find a way to get out.”

“I dived in after you.” Clark mixed in the chocolate slowly. You wondered if he was remembering how cold the water was too, even though he didn’t get cold. “I had to break through the ice once I found you. Pete and Tommy ran over to help. I let them pull us out. Tommy couldn’t believe I broke through the ice, but Pete told him it was thin there too.”

“None of us said anything about it, but you did save my life that day.” You took a deep breath, slipping off your chair. Taking off his coat, you were finally warm enough. “We always knew, but never really talked about it. I remember I tried to ask Pete to ask you to lift this big rock for me and he slapped my face.”

“He slapped you?” Clark spun to you, staring at your cheek like Pete just slapped you right this second. You chuckled and touched your cheek. It had stun a lot. You cried at the time.

“Pete was protecting you. Like I said it’s the thing we all knew, but never talked about.” Your face burned at the concern on his face. “I’m fine, Clark.”

Clark bit his lip, turning away to grab two mugs out of the cabinet. You snorted when you saw he had a superman mug. “Ma gave this to me. She thought it was funny.” He handed you a filled mug and turned off the stove.

“It is if you know.” You took a sip, licking your lips. “This is good.”

“Thanks, I learned from the best.” Clark took a sip of his own hot chocolate. “I was going to watch a documentary for work if you want join me? Otherwise, we can just watch regular TV, I’m not picky.”

You headed into the living room and made yourself comfortable on his couch. “The documentary is fine. I like learning.”

“I bet Mrs. G just rolled over in her grave at that.” Clark laughed. “I remember how you made her so mad that her face turned completely red like she was going to burst into flames.”

“Good times.” You laughed, relaxing as Clark sat down beside you. Shyly, he grabbed a blanket and covered you and himself with it. You hesitated before cuddling into his side.

Clark paused. You saw a mixed expression of emotions cross his face. “You comfortable?”

“Yep.” You took another sip from your mug. Clark relaxed and turned on the documentary. The two of you snuggled while the snowstorm raged outside.

***

The next morning, Clark was startled to hear eggs frying in the kitchen. He slowly got out of bed and was about to leave his bedroom until he remembered you. Quickly, he pulled on an old Smallville High t-shirt. No reason to scare you with his bare chest.

You were in the kitchen. Clark stopped in the doorway, his breath taken away. He had forgotten he had given you a shirt of his to wear. You turned when you heard his gasp. “Good morning.” You waved innocently before turning back to the stove. “I hope you don’t mind that I made us breakfast. I figured it was the least I could do since you let me stay here last night.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to send you out into the storm.” Clark sat down at the table. His body threatened to burst into flames. Why did you look so good in his shirt?

“You could have flown me home.” Clark watched you as you made a plate for him. He almost groaned at how domestic it was. Part of him wished you could be here every morning. However, the other part of him knew you were Pete Ross’ sibling. Off limits.

Clark cleared his throat. You set the plate in front of him. “Thank you.” He dug into the food to distract himself from the racing thoughts.

You laughed and made a plate for yourself. Clark tensed when you sat down right next to him. “So it’s still snowing outside,” you said, picking at your food.

“It is.” Clark glanced out the window at the winter wonderland outside. “I’ll have to insist you stay here.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t have to insist.” You met his eye, winking at him. “But what are we going to do all day long?”

Clark took a big bite of eggs. His heart fluttered at your wink. “I do have to write an article, but after we could...I don’t know...maybe break out that game we used to play?”

“You still have that? And you have it here?” You gasped, clapping your hands.

“Ma sent it to me a year ago. Said I might need it.” Clark chuckled. He avoid mentioning that Ma only sent it after she found you out were moving to Metropolis. Come to think of it, Clark wondered if Ma knew something he didn’t. Then again, she always did.

You went into a story about when you all first played the game. Clark listened, remembering it himself. You, Pete, and Clark played the game for the first time in the basement of his house while there was a tornado warning. A warm fuzzy feeling came to his chest. Clark decided then and there that he would call Pete once you went home and ask him for permission to ask you out.

#clark kent #clark kent x reader #clark kent imagine #superman #superman x reader #superman imagine #dc comics imagines #dc reader insert

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ushijimas-koibito · 3 years

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request no.3

kuroo, daichi, and ushijima with a s/o who's super clingy and affectionate and basically screams pastel, and then one day they get invited to a really fancy ball or something and s/o's basically the embodiment of "boss b**ch by doja cat" ??? - @why-am-i-here-please-help-me

i was so excited to see this. this is fantastic.

i’ll do my best.

this was my first time taking on a request of this size. i'm sorry it has taken so long. i apologize for any and all tense continuity errors.

please enjoy.

warnings: femme reader/fluff/suggestive content/some cursing

daichi sawamura- summer

the warm midday sun shone on your face. you closed your eyes and leaned your head back and your hair cascaded over your exposed shoulders and down your back tickling your skin. a warm breeze enveloped your skin and you smiled to yourself, enjoying this last summer day. your phone buzzes in your pocket, be there soon, beautiful. practice ran late. your boyfriend, daichi sawamura, was usually pretty punctual but this was the last morning practice of the summer. you could just imagine hinata and kageyama begging for five, ten, fifteen more minutes. you were impressed with their devotion and the team’s stamina.

you sat crosslegged on the low stone wall. you leaned back to soak up the sun. on the wind you could smell the scent of street food wafting toward you. you and daichi decided it might be fun to go to the outdoor market and then have a picnic in the park. you tilted your head to each side stretching your neck and leaning your hands back on the wall. you were so happy to have a relaxing summer day before the chaos of the fall begins. “hello there, beautiful.” you hear daichi’s warm voice ring out as he approaches you, sugawara and asahi in tow. “hey handsome!” he jogs up to you and you lean forward to give him a kiss. he brushes your wind-tousled hair away from your face and his hand drops to your waist to pull you forward. you giggle as he smiles against your lips. “you guys are so cute.” you hear suga say and you pull away to smile at your friends. daichi sighs, hating that the kiss ended so quickly, and pulls back.

daichi offers a hand to help you from the wall. “aw, thanks, suga!” daichi continues to hold your hand, “are you guys coming along with us?” you look between suga and asahi as daichi drapes his arm over your shoulders and kisses your temple. “ah, not this time,” asahi says looking away with a faint blush, “wouldn’t wanna impose..” sugawara laughs, “besides we’re just here to grab some things for tonight.” you look at daichi and then back to sugawara, “tonight? what’s tonight?” sugawara narrows his eyes at daichi, “you didn’t tell her?” daichi sighs, “ukai rented this place out for us tonight for an end of summer party.” he looks down and then up at you, “would you be interested in going?” you wrap your arm around his waist and smile, “sure! sounds fun!” sugawara smiles at you both, “see. i told you she’d want to come.” daichi chuckles, “i’m sorry i didn’t ask you before, but there won’t be many other girls there and i didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” you gave him a squeeze, “i got you.. is kiyoko going?” daichi nodded, “i think so, yachi too.” you look to the other guys, “are you guys going?” asahi and suga both nod, “then it should be fun!” daichi beams and gives you another kiss on the head. sugawara gives asahi’s shirt a tug and starts to walk off, “well, you kids enjoy your date and we will see you tonight!” you and daichi wave as asahi and sugawara walk toward the market. “see ya tonight!” he calls after them.

you turn to face daichi and he smiles sheepishly, “alright, what’s the real reason you didn’t ask me?” daichi laughs, “you just can’t be fooled can you,” he looks down at his feet before taking a big breath and saying, “it’s a dance party.” you cross your arms, “ok. and..?” he leans against the wall and pulls you closer to him to stand between his legs, “… and do you know how jealous i would be if you were the only girl there to dance with the whole team?” you laugh and place a hand on his chest, “daichi, come on, you know you’re the only one i wanna dance with and not one of those boys would be interested in dancing with me anyway,” he rolls his eyes, “now you know that’s not true,” he takes your hand and spins you around, “just look at you!” he pulls you close by the loops of your jean shorts and kisses your lips. he curls his middle finger through the loops on your hips and squeezes your hips between his palms, digging his fingertips into you. “daichi..” you say softly and turn your head to look around, he drops his head and chuckles, “sorry,” he says turning to look in the opposite direction, “what can i say, angel,” he looks up at you, “you carry me away.” you kiss his his forehead and then pull him up from the stone wall he was leaning against. “lead the way, i’m going to text the girls and see what we’re wearing,” daichi grabs your other hand and leads you toward the market as you type to the group chat:

perfect. you think as you piece the outfit together in your mind. daichi looks back at you, “uh oh…” he gives your hand a little squeeze, “whenever you get that look, it usually means i’m in trouble.” he raises an eyebrow. “i don’t know what you mean,” you say innocently. he laughs heartily and nudges you with his shoulder, “riiiight.”

you two walked through the market and gathered up some fruit, veggies, street snacks, and pastries for a picnic. you walked up to a flower stall and sniffed some huge blossoms. “aren’t these pretty, daichi?” he looked you over and his eyes lingered on your face, “beautiful.” he said softly, watching you with admiration. “we’ll take a bouquet, please.” he said to the stall keeper and gestured toward the flowers you were smelling. “aw, daichi, you don’t have to..” he waved his hand, “it’s my pleasure.” the shopkeeper wrapped a bouquet of big orange and red blooms into some newspaper, arranging them with other flowers and greenery, and tied it with twine. daichi paid for them and then handed them to you, “beautiful flowers for my beautiful girl.” he always knew exactly what to do and say to make you smile. “thank you, daichi.” he intertwined his fingers with yours, “of course.”

you two walk together with your haul of treats to the park and spread out a blanket near a tree. you set up the meal and take turns trying each others food and feeding each other. by the end of the meal you end up sprawling out next to each other on the blanket picking out shapes in the clouds, “i swear, (y/n), it looks like an elephant,” daichi points at a big fluffy cloud over head, “ok.. more like an animal cracker version of an elephant but an elephant nonetheless.” you giggle and roll on to your side. you prop yourself up on your elbow and take one of the blooms from your bouquet that loosed itself to trace the curves of daichi’s face. he smiles and closes his eyes, tilting his face toward the sun and allowing his hand to absentmindedly mimic your patterns with his fingertips against your thigh.

you watched as the petals delicately brushed his face. his high cheekbones, the delicate slope of his nose, the short, straight lines of his jaw; the soft and slightly tanned skin, his full pink lips.. daichi was sort of beautiful. he wasn’t an imposing beauty like a statue or a demigod, but he was beautiful in a homey sort of way. daichi was the physical embodiment of a feeling. he was honey in your tea, being taken care of when you’re sick, a homemade meal, the feeling of falling into bed after a long day, walking into an air-conditioned room when it’s sweltering outside, drinking ice cold water after working out, hot water on cold skin. daichi was stable, nurturing, and… good. he was the closest thing to pure good you’d ever known in this world. you were lucky to know him, let alone have the pleasure of loving him.

he opened his eyes and looked at you for a long moment, “i can’t tell you how many times i wished this day would last forever,” he rolled on his side and propped himself up on his arm and scooted so that he was nose to nose with you, “but then i remember there are so many days ahead of us, new things, days like today, and better, or worse, but i get them all, and i get them all with you.” he kissed the tip of your nose and played with the frayed cuffs of your jean shorts, “well, i must be the luckiest guy in the world.” he leans over and playfully pushes you back so that he’s hovering over you. there could be a million people staring at you in that park, but you wouldn’t notice. the whole world that existed in that moment lived in the 5 centimeters between your lips.

after some playful kisses, you cleaned up your mess and started the trek home. the sun was hanging low in the sky and you could hear the cicadas sing. every day was a good day with daichi, but this day made you feel so soft and warm. you were reminded of the simple joy of being in love and you felt full and content. you found yourself getting more and more excited for the party. and a dance party no less. the more the sun sank heavy in the sky and the day faded into a hot summer night, the closer you were to being able to let loose and get a little wild with the man of your dreams.

you and daichi were seen as the responsible, mom and dad type couple in your friend group. the team would be more likely to ask you to help with homework or build a budget before asking you to party. it was probably better that the kids didn’t know what went on behind closed doors. they all look up to daichi and see him as the reserved and respectable face of kurasano, but you knew a different side to him; a side you were looking forward to partying with tonight. it was the last night of summer, it was a night the entire team agreed to just let loose and have fun.

you rounded the corner of your street and daichi walked you to your door. “so i’ll be back here in a little while to pick you up, okay?” you nodded and daichi leaned in for a kiss. you playfully pulled away and leaned against the wall with a come-hither grin. daichi bit his lip and placed a hand against the wall just beside your head. he put his other hand on the side of your face and pushed your face gently to the side to expose your neck. he hovered a moment, just over your skin and you could hear him laugh softly before planting the lightest teasing kisses up your neck as he curled his fingers into your hair at the nape of your neck. he slowly pulled back and nibbled at his bottom lip with narrowed eyes, “i look forward to seeing what you’ll be wearing tonight.” his dark eyes had a glint of mischief in them. “i look forward to dancing with you tonight.” you said as you ran your hands from his chest to his hips and pulled him forward against you, “i’m sure it will be a lot of fun,” he said with a strained air of composure. he pressed his lips against yours; gently at first and then firmly before pulling away. “better go get ready or we’ll never leave,” you both laugh and share a few more kisses, “alright, alright,” you say fiddling with your house key, “see you in a bit, handsome.” he smiles and waits at the gate for you to unlock your door, “lookin’ forward to it, beautiful.” you wave at each other and watch as he walks up the lane to his house.

you dash inside to start your ritual. there is so much you need to get done before you go! you pop the flowers in some water and run to your bedroom. you pull the cute two-piece from your closet and hang it up next to your mirror, shoesssss.., you dig around in your closet and find some cute, strappy heels. the two piece set is made of a lovely silk blend. its a soft material that fades from a peachy orange to a bright red like a tropical sunset. the back of the top piece criss-crosses across your back with gold chains that highlight your strong shoulders and waist. the skirt is made of a matching material that is very short with a split up the side held together with criss-crossed chains. you pull out your makeup and other self-care supplies.

in the group chat, kiyoko and yachi are also going through their pre-party routine; discussing the virtues of flats versus heels, matte versus gloss, and how the heck yachi is going to get tadashi’s attention! you slap your phone on the charger and turn on some music. you shower, shave, brush teeth, and put on a face mask. you try to relax as you rub illuminating moisturizer on your legs. after your face mask, you pop on your makeup- brows, perfect eyeliner, highlighter, red lips, coral blush, even a lash. you look at your hair and opt for your natural texture. you flip your hair over to shake some volume in and part it on the side. you slide on your heels and before heading out you snip one of the big blooms and tuck it behind your ear. you look in the mirror and smile, i hope daichi likes it. and right on cue you hear him knock on the door.

you open the door and he turns to see you just as you open the door and meet his eyes. his eyes illuminate and his lips widen into a bright smile, “hello gorgeous,” he says as he steps toward you to give you a careful kiss, mindful not to ruin your makeup, “you look amazing,” he says as he holds out your arms to get a better look at you. you blush as his eyes hungrily take you in. “holy shit, girl!” you hear tanaka’s loud voice from the gate, “no freakin way that’s (y/n)!!!” nishinoya exclaims. “you look gooooooooood, for real, for real! daichi-man you been holdin out on us, captain??!!” tanaka whistles. you giggle as you can see daichi’s blood pressure raise. “it’s me!” you say and then give a little twirl, “you guys aren’t the only ones to clean up nice,” you wink and look at daichi who seems to be forever in awe of you when you interact with the rest of the team. he offers you his arm, “ready, gorgeous?” you take his arm and you all head out.

you meet up with a few others that live in the neighborhood and you all laugh and goof off all the way to the venue. it’s one of those moments that feels more like a movie than real life. you are so happy and your heart is so full. for a moment you lose yourself to the energy of the night when daichi stops you. the others walk on and he wraps you in his arms, “you are truly the most beautiful person i’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, and i mean that. inside and out.” he pulls away to look you over once more and there in the heat of the night, music blaring in the distance, in this quiet moment, you feel it must be true.

kuroo tetsurō - winter

“good morning, sleepyhead,” you heard your boyfriend’s raspy voice as you opened your eyes. you looked toward the window and saw the sky was still very dark. you groaned softly and pulled a pillow over your face. tetsurou laughed and rolled over onto his side, propping himself up and pulling the pillow away from your face. he slipped his long fingers under his shirt you were wearing and stroked your waist, “c’mon, precious, it won’t be any easier if you continue to lay here.” his head lulled to the side to make sure he was making eye contact with you. his hazel eyes bright and alert. you smiled up at him and wrapped your arm around his waist and grabbed the pillow he pulled off your face and sweetly, sleepily said, “no.” you smashed the pillow against his face and buried your face into the one below underneath you. “alright,” he said through his smug smile. he tossed the pillow you smashed in his face onto the floor and straddled your waist, “if we don’t get up, we’ll miss it.” you looked up at the ever agile tetsu as he leaned his hands on the headboard. your eyes trailed from his low hanging pj pants, up his abdomen, his chest, his sly smile, and finally his eyes. you smiled and pulled him down on top of you, “weighted blanket. can’t go. too comfy.” you felt him laugh against you as you wrapped your arms tighter around his neck, pulling his torso against yours. “baby,” he began seriously, “who knows when we’ll get this chance again.” you loosened your hands so you could look at his face. tetsu looked at you with eyes yearning and burning into your own, “fine,” you whispered with a pout. tetsu rolled back onto his knees and offered his arm to help you up. you wrap your arms around his arm and hang for a moment with a little whine. he laughs, “what a sleepy girl,” he purrs, “i promise it will be worth it. now let’s get dressed and go get coffee!” he stands up and pulls you up to your feet. “…coffee?” you say after a pause looking up at him with hopeful eyes, “yes,” he says while patting the top of your head, “your morning dose of trimethylxanthine, my pet.” you giggle mischievously and bound toward the closet. he shakes his head and watches you pounce around getting dressed.

this morning was special because it was a solar eclipse. tetsu had planned on going to watch it with you since he heard there would be one. he always tried to watch heavenly phenomenon and since you started dating, he always wanted to watch them with you. he would excitedly talk about how it was his “once in a lifetime moment” with his “once in a lifetime girl” and how he “may never get another chance.” he would talk excitedly about how each eclipse was an opportunity to feel the weight of being and to take a moment to appreciate the incredible mysteries of being suspended on a rock in a far corner of a vast universe and that our significance on a universal, global, even national scale was insignificant, but within the minutia, the significance of our being in the moment we become aware, was as close to infinity as we will ever get. tetsu liked to be reminded of his mortality and the balance of his own existence; physically and metaphysically. you were always so impressed by how much he knows and he continues to learn all the time. you are continually inspired by the depth of his gratitude; although it is buried under a surface level of nihilism.

“hey babe,” you called from the bathroom curling your hair, “what’s the weather going to be today?” tetsu rounded the corner into the bathroom while reading his phone, “looks like it might snow later, so, bundle up and don’t forget to pack a jacket.” he plants a kiss on your shoulder and studies you in the mirror, “i don’t want you to get sick.” he walked back into the bedroom and pulled out your bags. that’s right, you thought, today isn’t just a quick trip to watch the solar eclipse. after you both get coffee and watch the solar eclipse, you were headed into the city to stay for the weekend. kuroo’s friend, tsukki and his girlfriend, had invited you both to a winter soiree at the planetarium that night. it was supposed to be a celebration of the new planetarium building and it’s new design features and exhibits. you both were looking forward to this since they invited you.

you shook out your curls and made your way over to the closet. tetsurō was carefully folding his clothes in his suitcase and checking off the list on his phone; tetsurō is calculated and organized. he looks up from his list and asks, “what color is your dress for tonight? i want to make sure my suit matches.” you grab the garment bag from your closet. you have been keeping this dress a surprise since you ordered it and the suspense was killing him. you hadn’t given him any details, as to not ruin it, but he always tried to work around the surprise. he hadn’t been successful until now, “dark blue,” you say with a sigh and he smiled blithely, “good to know,” he nods and thumbs through his suits. he pulls two- a soft cornflower blue day suit and a dark sapphire blue evening suit the exact color of your dress, “which of these is closer?” he tries to muster an innocent smile, “don’t look at me like that, i’m just trying to make sure i compliment you.” his smirk says otherwise. you roll your eyes and say, “the dark blue,” he hangs the light blue suit up, “you finally got a hint.” he nods, “yes, but i won’t be satisfied until i can see you in it.” he zips the dark blue suit into a garment bag with his undershirt, belt, and a small bag with cuff links, watch, and tie clip. tetsurō secretly loves to get dressed up, especially if he can do it with you.

you packed your bits and bobs and started to get dressed for the day. you stood in your underclothes in front of your closet and shifted back and forth, holding up a few sweaters. you turned to see tetsurō who stopped midway putting on his sweater to admire you. you blushed softly, “what?” you asked and he chuckled, pulling his soft black sweater over his head, “nothing,” he walks over to you and looks in the full length mirror, “i just like observing you,” he kisses the top of your head, “the white sweater is my favorite of the two,” he walks nonchalantly toward the bathroom, continuing packing his list. you hold up the white sweater again and look in the mirror. you decide to go with it. you pull on the form fitting white sweater, some high-waisted tight black trousers, and some tall black riding boots. you slip in some dainty earrings and go to put on your necklace. it was a necklace tetsurō gave you for your birthday. it was a silver pendant with a diamond that looked like the north star. you remember him giving it to you and when you asked why the north star he said, “because when i am with you i never worry about feeling lost; you always lead me home.” he was always very thoughtful in his gifts and gestures. he never put unnecessary weight or emphasis on things. everything he does is intentional and purposeful; for someone who sometimes feels as though nothing matters in the vast expanse of time and space, he sure added a lot of sentiment and meaning to life. that’s one of the many things you love about him.

you fiddled with your necklace while being lost in thought when you feel his hands gently stroke your hair to the side and take the clasp from your fingers. he quickly and deftly latches the necklace and kisses the top of your head. tetsurō gives your shoulders a squeeze and walks back over to the suitcase to pack his toiletries. you spritz your perfume and also pack your toiletry bag, “almost ready, my love?” tetsurō calls from the bathroom. “yeah! just need to throw my toothbrush in my bag and we’re good.” you gather your last bits and slip on your long, oversized gray peacoat and grab your big fluffy scarf. “i can’t believe you still have that thing,” he gestures to the scarf. you look down at the wide and well-worn nekoma scarf. you had it made back in the day, when you both were in high school. it was a blanket scarf that was dark red and had tetsurō's name and jersey number on it, “well, it’s still my favorite.” this still made him smile; after all this time, you held onto it. every year he razzes you for keeping it and every year you tell him it’s still your favorite. he walked up to you and wrapped it around you and pulled you in for a kiss, “glad to know i’m still your favorite.” he kisses your nose and playfully wraps the scarf around your head. you paw him away and fix your scarf with a huff. he laughs and pats his pockets making sure he had everything.

you put your bags in the car and head out. it was still dark out and very cold. you make your way to a cafe and you are thankful for the blast of warm air as you walk in. the girls behind the counter gawk at tetsu who is walking behind you and rubbing the tops of your arms to warm you up. you step in line and you each study the menu before stepping up to the register, “cafe au lait for me and—,” he looks down at you prompting you to place your order, “a peppermint mocha, please,” you say. after paying up you stand by the pick up window and wait for your drinks. tetsurō drapes an arm over your shoulders while scrolling through his phone. “we should arrive at the hill in prime time to see the eclipse,” he was visibly buzzing with excitement. whenever he experienced any wave of positive emotion he reached for you. you think he did this in hopes to boost your mood through osmosis.

your drinks arrived and tetsurō gathered them for you. he made sure your lid was on tight and handed it to you, “careful it’s extra hot.” you took it in both of your hands. tetsurō grabbed some extra napkins and tucked them in his pockets and went through his ritual of patting his pockets making sure everything was in order. he turned to you and adjusted your scarf for you, “ready, precious?” you nodded sipping your very hot peppermint mocha. the girls still swooning nearly caused themselves a pulmonary embolism as he opened the door for you. to be fair, you guys are pretty cute..

with an extra spring in his step, tetsu led the way to the hill where you’d watch the solar eclipse. it was in a park near the water and was perfect for this occasion. he looked up at the sky and his hazel eyes seemed to threaten the clotted clouds in the sky. they kept their distance as you made the trek to the apex of the hill. you both manage to find an empty bench. the park seemed to be more full than tetsurō anticipated. this was bittersweet as he had hoped to have a solitary, intimate moment with you, however, he was very excited that others were interested in this event. you cozied into his side and sipped on your mocha. he draped an arm across the back of the bench and you enjoyed the sunrise. the solar eclipse would be happening just shortly after. “this is pretty special because a total solar eclipse only happens every couple years.” tetsurō swirled his cup of coffee, “the longest solar eclipse can occur for almost 8 minutes. i wonder what the universe will give us today.” he stared out at the horizon as you studied his face. his sharp, defined jaw; his upturned nose, his fierce eyes, the slight depression of his dimple likely formed from his near constant smirk. the wind ruffled his messy bedhead that always seemed to be perfect, no matter how he complained about and fought with it.

the sun made its way over the horizon and just as it ignited the sky it began to disappear before your very eyes. the sun became completely consumed, “‘totality occurs when the moon completely obscures sun so only the solar corona is showing,’” tetsurō said with a holy reverence, his eyes glued to the sky and taking everything in. this was his sacred place; his church. you felt honored that he would want to share this with you. you slipped your hand into his and intertwined your fingers. he tightened his hand around yours and he was on the edge of his seat, he was so happy- this made you happy. after a few minutes, you watched the sun reveal itself. tetsurō watched with the adoration of a groom unveiling his bride. he pulled his eyes away just as the sun came back to light and illuminated your face, “thank you so much for sharing this with me, precious,” he leaned his head against the top of yours and loosed your hand to wrap you in an embrace. you began to understand, over the years the more he shared with you the more you would come to know. moments like this were so special and you would treasure them always.

after watching the sunrise, you and tetsurō made your road trip to the city, stopped for some food, and checked into your hotel. you spend some time in the room compiling lists of landmarks and shops you want to go in while you are visiting. the list consists of bookshops, the natural history museum, and a bar that has a rotating rooftop area with a skylit cieling. it was nice to get away for a few days and have some time to go exploring together and see what you can find. you both lounge in bed and eat some ice lollies you picked up from the convenience store. it might be snowing outside but that was a delicious moment of sadism you both loved to indulge in. it was an act of rebellion, a decadent protest to not be anchored to the proprietary demands of the seasons; tetsurō reveled in the idea of contributing to chaos and throwing of the supposed algorithm of fate. you just wanted to eat ice lollies and listen to him talk about physics. it was a win-win.

time passed and it was approaching time for the event. you grabbed your makeup bag and your garment bag and headed to the bathroom, “no peeking.” you said with a sharp look toward tetsu; who threw up his hands with a laugh, “wouldn’t dream of it, precious.” you locked the door just in case. you unzipped the bag to reveal the dress. it was a floor length sapphire blue silk dress with two slits over each leg that started at the hip. it had an overlay of a darker blue with star and moon embellishments made of swarovski crystals. the dress was cut low into a deep v-neck that nearly showed your belly button. the sleeves were off the shoulder and long to point to a v with loops that went over your middle fingers on each hand like a renaissance painting. you also had a silver and sapphire body chain that highlighted your breast and torso to wear under the dress as well as matching garters that clipped with embellished silver moon hosiery clips. your shoes were a sapphire velvet with a heel. you wore your hair in a low bun with loose curls that framed your face. you tucked pins in your hair with matching crystal stars. your makeup was fairly simple with a lovely pale wine lip, big soft lashes, and lots of glittery shimmer over your shoulders, chest, and cheekbones. you finished getting ready and put your long coat on to cover your dress. you wanted your big reveal to be at the planetarium. you walked out in your coat and scarf with a mischievous grin. “oh, come on, that’s just ridiculous.” tetsurō grimaced. he looked sharp in his fitted dark blue suit. “this is all part of my grand plan, tetsu, trust me.” he rolled his eyes with a smirk, “if you insist.” he kissed your forehead and you left for the planetarium.

when you got there you were welcomed by tsukki and his girlfriend, “thanks for coming,” he said as he greeted you and tetsurō, “of course, thanks for inviting us.” you walk in and wait for the coat check. tsukki and tetsurō were catching up as you and tsukki’s girlfriend chatted and waited together. “look kuroo,” tsukki pointed into the next room, “is that..?” they waved at another acquaintance. “tetsurō, give me your coat and go say hello, we’ll catch up in a sec.” he handed you his coat with a kiss and slipped away to go say hello. perfect, you thought. this would give you an opportunity for a grand reveal. tsukki’s girlfriend turned in her coat and walked away to catch up with the boys; per your request. you slipped off your coat and readied yourself for his reaction. the main exhibit area had an interactive ceiling that reflected the night’s sky giving a detailed look at star and planetary placement. the room was illuminated in a wash of blue light and you entered the room.

at that moment, tetsurō turned to see you enter. his jaw fell slack and his eyes sparkled. you walked up to him, “like it?” he gave you a twirl, “very much,” he pulled you in close to him looking you over and taking in every detail, “worth the wait?” you asked in a whisper. he nodded, speechless as he ran his finger beneath the chain of your jewelry on your chest, “you are absolutely stunning.” tetsu takes your hand and gives you another spin. he drapes an arm delicately across the small of your back leading you around the exhibit.

he is oddly quiet and you catch him staring at you for a long moment, “what is it?” you tilt your head and wait as he searches for the words. you both walk to a quiet corner as the main exhibit begins its premier, illuminating the ceiling. “i finally understand the depth of what carl sagan was saying, ‘the nitrogen in our dna, the calcium in our teeth, the iron in our blood, the carbon in our apple pies were made in the interiors of collapsing stars.’ it’s about so much more than our actual biology. there is a radiance of epic proportions that emanates from your soul,” he looks down at you and strokes your cheek, “‘the cosmos is within us. we are made of star-stuff. we are a way for the universe to know itself,’ and i am so fortunate that out of all the possibilities, of all the probabilities in this life, i found you and i get to keep you. this small infinity between us; full of potential. i have found my once in a lifetime girl and the once in a lifetime opportunity to make you infinitely happy.” you squeezed his hand as you shared a soft, tender kiss. a once in a lifetime man with his once in a lifetime girl; a cosmic, supernatural phenomenon all your own in your little shared infinity between two finite beings.

nature is beautiful.

ushijima wakatoshi- fall

“what do you mean you’ve never seen ‘blair witch’?” you turn to look at your boyfriend, ushijima wakatoshi, who is staring back at you with wide eyes, “pumpkin, you know i haven’t seen most movies, let alone most horror movies.” your mouth pops open in awe, “but it’s a classic.” he shrugs and goes back to filling the bowls with candy for trick-or-treaters. wakatoshi didn’t really have the opportunity to participate in most holidays like the average person because of his insane schedule, however, this halloween was on a saturday and he was dating you, the scream queen herself. you sat cross-legged in front of your dvd collection, your horror collection spread out in front of you. your apartment was decorated magnificently with tons of old school and DIY decorations you convinced ushijima to do with you. your marshmallow candles flickered and filled the room with the scent of s’mores and you looked over the coffee table set up with small pumpkins and carving supplies. it was a perfect halloween- spooky clouds, chilly breeze, and a whole day free with wakatoshi in your matching pajamas.

he plopped down on the couch with one of the candy bowls. you popped in the dvd and scrambled up beside him with a chunky knit blanket. “i think you’re really going to like it, toshi. this will get us in the mood for tonight for sure!” wakatoshi kept an eye on the tv while cutting the tops off your pumpkins. he handed you a spoon and you both dug in to start getting the seeds and guts out. “how are you going to decorate yours, toshi?” he looked for a long moment studying the surface of his pumpkin. you imagined this is the exact face michelangelo made looking up at the ceiling of the sistine chapel. he looked sideways at you, “it’s a surprise.” you chuckled and shook your head. he held his pumpkin and turned it over in his hands. he leaned into the couch and stretched his long legs out in front of him crossing his feet at the ankles. you smiled seeing he was wearing the fall pun socks you got for him, “i’m so corny” with little ears of corn all over them. you never thought of wakatoshi to be the type to enjoy goofy, simple things but he ate it up. he loved your silly puns, your makeshift decorations, and your spirit. anything that made you smile, he was down to try.

you paused your pumpkin carving to sip on the hot apple cider you both made. it was the first time either of you had made cider and it was an event. the easy part was wandering around the market, picking out the apples and spices, and walking home through the leaf ladened park. making the cider was a lot more difficult than you thought and you sort of regretted promising jugs of apple cider to your friends. however, the vision of wakatoshi using the cider press would linger deliciously in your mind for days to come. as you sipped your cider, you recalled his serious brow furrowing as he strained against the old-school press, open flannel shirt, and windblown hair; absolutely worth every bit of frustration. the memory made the flavor more decadent. “how is it?” he asked. “delightful,” you said with a soft smile.

you picked up your pumpkin once more. you had chosen a classic smiling jack-o-lantern face for your pumpkin. it was befitting the rest of your home’s motif. you peeked over at his and smiled seeing the silhouette of his favorite childhood character with it’s round body and puffy gloves. he was concentrating while also trying to pay attention to the movie. he would occasionally blow his hair out of his eyes and wipe his brow with the back of his hand; it was like you were kids again.

your phone buzzed next to you, it was from tendou.

“you excited for tonight?” you smiled

“absolutely! what are you going as?”

“i think i’m going to be pennywise! what about you and ushi?”

you tapped your finger against your chin before sending your message.

“it’s a surprise ;)”

you could feel his frustration through the phone.

“who’s that?” wakatoshi said as he nodded his head towards your phone. “tendou. he wants to know what our costumes are tonight.” ushijima sat up straight and looked at you very seriously, “you didn’t tell him did you?!” he exclaimed. you laughed softly, “no, no, i told him it was a surprise.” he relaxed, “excellent; i want them all to be surprised.” he smirked as he continued to whittle his pumpkin.

you and wakatoshi had planned an epic couples costume that was sure to shock everyone. the two of you were so wholesome and reserved that you really wanted to blow everyone’s socks off. you looked over your shoulder and admired your carefully curated costumes. you smiled to yourself knowing that everyone was probably expecting you to show up as something cutesy and sweet, but these costumes… THESE costumes… surprising.

after watching a few films, finishing your pumpkins, and eating your weight in pizza and candy; it was time to get dressed. wakatoshi eyed the skimpy material skeptically, “c’mon, toshi, it will be amazing! trust me!” you scamper off with your costume and get ready. you do your hair and your makeup following a tutorial entitled “victoria’s secret bombshell glow”. you felt like a glowing bombshell for sure. you fixed your top hat to your big curls and wrestled with the glitter and eyelashes and squeezed into the tiny gold spandex shorts and finally turned around… you started at your feet and the glittering, sky high booties, up to your fishnets, tiny gold shorts, exposed abs, the gold and black lingerie push up bra, little red silk jacket with black lapels and gold ornate designs, big bouncy curls and top hat with gold band and veil… you felt hooooot.

wakatoshi knocked on the door, “i think i need a little help, (y/n).” he opened the door and was wrestling with the arm bands of the singlet for his strongman costume. his exposed chest, abs and shoulders were oiled with body shimmer oil. he looked like adonis. his eyes fell on you. he was speechless in a whole new way. “(y/n)-..” he trailed off, his fake vintage mustache falling into your hands. “like it?” you asked twirling around in a cloud of glitter and hairspray. “y-yes.. very much.” he said quietly. he was entranced. “let’s take a picture, toshi!” you pushed his mustache to his upper lip and he caught you by the arm. your breath caught in your throat as you looked into his eyes. “t-toshi?” you said softly, blushing. “trick or teat, (y/n).” he pressed his lips firmly into yours and pulled you close. as you pulled away, his serious face melted and he started to laugh- his mustache had stuck to your upper lip. he grabbed his phone and said, “smile, pumpkin. it’s going to be a wild night.” you posed seductively as ushijima flexed for the photo and he sent it to the team. your phone started to blow up and you both laughed, reading the reactions of your friends.

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avintagekiss24 · 4 years

Text

THE FALLEN || BUCKY BARNES

-- DEMON!AU -- ONE SHOT --

pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x black!reader || word count: 5,783 || warnings: smut, sex, vaginal fingering, demon possession, language, angels/demons || challenge: @wxntersoldiers 6k au challenge - demon!au || summary: heaven was above, hell was below - but now they’re both on earth, and you’re stuck in the middle. || author’s note: i stole a little from supernatural, a little from the bible (this is not a religious fic and I am in no way trying to push any religions/beliefs onto anyone!), and also took some liberties for this one! also, major thanks to @tropicalcap & @littleheavensangel2 for helping me figure this fic out. love you two ladies!

just for reference, steve is archangel Michael, bucky is fallen angel Azazel, sam is archangel Uriel, rhodey (james) is archangel Gabriel.

line divider by @/writeyourmindaway!

You grip the shotgun tightly, your finger curled around the trigger as you stare down the long barrel. You keep your left hand cupped around the forearm as you press the tip of the gun into the rusty, old metal door, pushing it open with a loud creak. Your eyes dart around the abandoned warehouse as you move into the damp, dank room, the smell of sulfur hitting your nostrils.

Something shifts from somewhere deep in the warehouse - the familiar click of something metal hitting the floor. You whip in the direction of the noise, your eyesight aligning with the small sight at the end of the barrel, your breath going shallow. You stand stark still, just waiting for something - anything - to move, growl, or breathe, so you can blow it right back to the fiery pit of hell it came from. But nothing moves, nothing growls, nothing breathes - it’s just you and the silence of this new world.

You cut your eyes back into the center of the room and move forward, each step balanced and focused. You lower your weapon, very slightly, as you walk up on a small, burnt out fire. You kick at the old newspapers and napkins before you scan the room with your squinted eyes and kneel down beside it. You pick at the burnt rubble, lifting some to your nose to sniff at it before throwing it back into the burnt pile. Whoever was here is long gone.

You close your eyes and bring your hand to your face, letting out a deep sigh. You rub your forehead and then your eyes before you grab the back of your neck. Sleep is pulling at you. Steve’s voice rings in the back of your mind - you can’t keep going like this. You’ve been through worse. All the survivors have. A few nights without sleep is considered a privilege these days.

You take another deep breath but jolt back up on your feet, spinning around and hoisting your shotgun back up to your face. Sulfur fills your nostrils, stronger than when you first stepped into the warehouse. Then, there’s a soft sound of steps, one slowly after the other, circling you. You blink, but move with the noise, following it in a circle, training your eyes on the darkness.

“Come out.” You say firmly, adjusting your grip on your weapon, pressing your finger a little harder into the trigger.

It doesn’t answer. It just continues to circle you slowly, making sure to stay in the darkest parts of the empty warehouse, careful of the moonlight.

It’s amazing how calm you are now in moments like this. A year ago, when the world first collapsed and heaven and hell was unleashed upon it - you prayed for death. You weren’t meant for this; you weren’t strong enough. You were a city girl. Starbucks in hand, AirPods in your ears, Christian Loubotins on your feet, a (huge) engagement ring on your finger. Your worst fear was someone parking their luxury vehicle in the spot that was reserved for your luxury vehicle.

Then it all went to shit.

Your Loubotins have been replaced with a pair of old, ripped Adidas that you took while out on a supply run. Your Birkin bag is now a high school boy's backpack, again, picked up while rummaging through an abandoned house. The only thing you have that reminds you of you, is that engagement ring, placed on a simple gold link chain and tucked underneath your tattered shirt. The weight of it, the feeling of it pressing against your chest keeps you grounded - it helps keep your memory of Bucky alive.

Now, this shotgun, two hunting knives, and a katana are extensions of your body. Killing - demons or humans - is second nature to you. You are strong enough.

“Come out,” you announce again, “Now.”

A deep chuckle rings out. You fire a round into the wall opposite you before pulling back on the forearm, the spent cartridge flying past your face and falling to the ground. You push the butt of the gun back into your shoulder and keep moving with the sound of the steps.

“Ooh,” a voice calls towards you, “Tough girl, huh?”

You fire another round, slamming the forearm back again to push another bullet into the chamber. The steps stop. Soft curse words float toward you as you finally spot a shadow doubled over. You smirk.

“Imagine if I were aiming for your face,” you shrug, “Bucky, come out.”

He chuckles again. He steps out into the moonlight, rolling his shoulders as he glances down at the bullet wound in his side, “I liked this shirt.”

You peer at him over the barrel of your still raised gun, “Looks good on you.”

He does indeed look good - like the old Bucky, the one you still dream of. He even keeps the simple silver chain that you gave him a few Christmas’ back around his neck. His hair is longer, and dare you say, you almost like it better than his tailored look from before. It’s pulled up into a bun - a bun! - a few loose tendrils falling around his face. The human Bucky never sported a beard, or even the smallest trace of stubble, but demon Bucky…. he’s, well, everything your Bucky was not.

Gone are the crisp, ironed, button down shirts, slacks, and designer loafers. Black combat boots, black jeans, black leather jacket now dress his muscular frame as he stands before you, his head cocked, a shit smirk on his face.

His eyes are different, and that’s the most unsettling part. Those deep, ocean blue, often demonstrative eyes are just a memory now. Two yellow orbs stare back at you, devoid of any notion of who he once was - or the life you shared together.

You blink, remaining steady as you watch him dig into his jacket pocket and pull out a loose cigarette; the gaping hole in his side closing up on it’s own. He places the thin stick between his lips before flicking his eyes back to you, and snaps his fingers. A bright fire starts to burn at the tips of them. He keeps his eyes on you and covers the end of the cigarette to shield it from any wind that escapes in from the broken window overhead, and lights it slowly.

He inhales deeply, pulling his head back up straight as he pulls the cigarette from his lips and exhales a cloud of smoke in your direction. He winks at you, playing with you seemingly before he shakes out the fire on his fingertips.

“Why are you following me?” He asks after a few silent seconds, taking another drag of his cigarette.

You can’t tell him why, although, if you could, you’re not really sure that you would want to. You don’t know if you really believe what Steve is trying to get you to believe. You were always a pessimist - the glass is half empty kinda girl. Something in you keeps nagging at you, telling you that your Bucky is gone.

You still remember the last time he was truly your Bucky. His frantic voice filled your ears as you lifted your phone to your ear, your eyes wide and full of tears as you sat in shock while the television at your office played out the gruesome stories from all over the world. Building collapsed, people running for their lives, blood staining the streets. Deep, long cracks in the concrete as fire spewed up from below.

“Listen to me, baby,” you barely heard him say, “Just get home, ok? Lock the doors, close the blinds, don’t let anybody inside. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Ok? Promise me, baby.”

“Bucky,” you whimpered as hot tears streaked down your face, “I’m scared, I can’t. I can’t - what is happening?” You sobbed.

“Hear my voice, baby,” He said firmly, “Just get home, okay? I’ll be there, I promise. I will keep you safe.”

That was the last time you heard his voice.

He never made it home.

It took months before you could even understand what could have happened to him, months more before you could actually confirm it. You were out on a run, alone, looking for supplies and a dry place to sleep. You ended up downtown - apartment buildings made for the best supply deposits. It was dark, the streetlights had long since burnt out, but you grew accustomed to moving around with only the moonlight as a guide.

You rounded the corner and stopped dead in your tracks. There was a group of them, but naturally, you hesitated - not knowing if they were human or the possessed. Just when you were about to turn and head back from where you came, you heard it. His laugh. When you turned back, he was facing you and every ounce of air was sucked right out of your body.

He was alive.

It had been so long.

Every rational thought drained from your mind. You just wanted to feel him - to hug him and kiss him and tell him how much you missed him. How you’d known all along that you’d find him again. Your feet were moving before you even knew it. Your eyes filled with tears as you crossed the street towards him. You just wanted to feel him.

“Buc-”

Before you could get his name out of your mouth, you were grabbed from behind and yanked between two buildings. A hand clamped over your mouth, muffling your screams as a chest pushed into yours. The strange man peeked around the corner of the building before returning his attention to you, shaking his head slowly, “Possessed,” he whispered.

You’ve been with Steve - well, Michael, ever since. He explained it all to you - the centuries old war between heaven and hell - good and evil - that had finally spilled over onto earth. How he, Uriel, and Gabriel (Sam and James, respectively) decided to help, despite their instructions to never interfere. The information made you dizzy. You didn’t believe it at first, you thought he was crazy - until his wings spread out behind him.

You kinda had to half believe him then.

He also explained how it happened - how you could be possessed. You had heard along the way that just looking at one of the creatures crawling up from the gaping holes in the streets could do it. Others said all that was needed was a touch from one. Maybe it was a bite, or a scratch - some even said the possessed had been chosen from birth - everyone had a theory.

None of them were true, turns out.

“You have to give in.” Steve’s voice was soft, his eyes cast away from yours as you gasped in terror, “You have to offer your soul to them for the demon to take you.”

You want to know why. You want to know why the man you were about to marry, the solid, the strong, the happy Bucky Barnes you knew and loved, gave up his soul - and if what Steve says is true - you want him back.

“I’m not following you.” You lie.

He snorts, “So, it’s just a coincidence we keep running into each other?”

You shrug, blinking slowly, “Looks that way.”

He nods back at you, taking another puff of his cigarette before he expels the grey smoke again and flicks at the end to rid the ash. He drags his eyes along your frame as you stand in the middle of the room, your weapon still trained on him. He knows there’s a story that you aren’t telling.

He tilts his head again, his eyes dropping from your face quickly before they return, “You knew him?”

“Who?”

“Don’t play with me,” He scoffs, rolling his eyes before he gestures at himself, “This pretty face. This Bucky, you keep referring to.”

You don’t answer. You just blink at him, tightening your grip on your gun again as you keep his chest dead center of the barrel. He kicks at the debris on the ground before he gazes up at the tall ceiling, still sucking on that cigarette between his lips.

“I can’t give him back, you know.” He says matter of factly, “He’s mine.”

“I understand.” You answer simply.

He smiles widely at your humor, “Why are you following me then? Hm? Why do you keep following me around, girl?” His voice deepens by the end of his question - menacing, trying to intimidate you.

You shrug again, “The same reason you don’t ever try to kill me once you realize I’m around.” You click your jaw, “His body may be yours, but I know Bucky is still in there. He won’t let you kill me.”

Your words stun him into silence. He smiles slowly after a few seconds and tilts his head back as he drops the stub of a cigarette to the ground. He cracks his neck and then rolls his shoulders, humming softly.

He steps towards you but you’re quick, instantly taking a step back, and then another, and another, in rhythm with him, “You want to know how I got him?” He asks, “Hm? How I took your precious little Bucky?” He mocks, laughing at you as your eyes go wide.

You swallow hard, blinking rapidly as you squeeze your finger against the trigger a little harder, “Stop. Back up.”

“He was damn near dead when I found him,” he continues, ignoring you completely, “I thought he was dead when I first saw him. Poor old Bucky here must have been in a hell of a hurry,” he smiles again, his eyes glowing as he recounts the details, “Flipped his car in all the melee. He was trapped in there for days.”

“Stop it.” You whisper, your chin starting to tremble.

“Oh, he was gullible too.” He laughs again, “He believed every word that came out of my mouth. It’s people like him that make it so damn easy - he didn’t even put up a fight.”

“Shut up!” You shout as a single tear slips down your cheek, “I mean it, I will blow your fucking head off.”

He stops moving towards you, but laughs again, clapping his hands as the stench of your fear and anger fill his nostrils. He titters, “I know exactly who you are.” He whispers, his smile growing larger as your face clicks in his brain, “He had your picture, clutched in his bloody hand, pressed right up against his chest when I found him.”

You let out a sob.

“I used you against him.”

“Shut up!” You scream again.

“He begged me!” He shouts at you, making you stop in your tracks. He clasps his hands together as if he’s praying, “Please,” he starts, mocking Bucky’s pleas, “Please help me. I need to get home, please.”

You squeeze the trigger, firing a round straight at his head. He’s quick, but you knew that, the bullet just grazing the side of his face as he sidesteps it. You slam the forearm back and shoot again, and again, the empty shell casings falling to the concrete floor, soft clicks and tings sounding as they bounce.

Bucky smirks at you again before he disappears from sight. You reach for the hunting knife strapped around your leg and pull it from its sheath, spinning around on your feet and bringing it down with all the force in your body.

He catches your arm in mid air. He folds your arm behind your back and whips you around, crushing his chest to your back.

“All I had to tell him was that I could help him get back to you so that he could keep you safe, and he fell for it - hook, line, and sinker.” He whispers in your ear, his hot breath washing over the side of your face as you struggle against him. He starts to laugh, the sound booming through the warehouse again, bouncing off of the walls, “Isn’t that hilarious? Men are so fucking weak, just the thought of you brought him to his knees.”

He closes his eyes again and starts to sway the two of you back and forth, taking a deep breath, filling his chest and lungs with your scent, “God, you smell good. I could taste you on his lips as soon as I took him. I could feel your skin in his hands - smell that sweet cunt of yours.”

He wraps his arm around your waist, squeezing you to him tightly as he digs his nose into your hair. You shiver at the feeling of his prickly stubble grazing across your cheek, still struggling and whimpering to get free of his grasp. The hand around your waist sneaks up into your shirt, skirting up your warm flesh, his fingers finding your breasts. You gasp when he squeezes them hard - pushing you back into him with his strength.

His tongue slithers out from between his lips, licking from your jaw up to your temple before he presses the side of his face to yours. He chuckles as he fondles your breasts with his fingers, his hot skin searing yours, making you jump in pain. He cranes your head to the side with his before he rubs his cheek against yours. He nibbles on your ear as you start to struggle once more, then dips down to your neck where he nips at the exposed skin with his teeth.

Your nipples harden. A shiver runs up your spine. An ache starts to spread through your stomach and sex as heat blooms across your skin. Your stomach starts to churn as hatred and anger builds within you. Your mind knows that this isn’t Bucky - but your body doesn’t. It just knows that these hands, these lips, this tongue feels familiar; and it’s been so long.

You feel his dick start to push into your ass, pulling another laugh from the demonic creature, “Looks like my pal Bucky and I both have a weakness for pretty girls.” He mumbles against your ear. He slithers his hand from your breasts and down to your jeans, his index finger tracing the edge of the denim from hip to hip, “I haven’t even touched you yet and I can smell you from here.”

You're paralyzed. Stuck between your screaming mind and your willful body. He lets go of the arm he has pinned behind your back and grabs your chin, pushing it upward so that you can see him. You blink furiously as he gazes along your face, his fingers gently caressing your jaw and cheek, his eyes roaming slowly.

Your breath is heavy and audible - small whimpers escaping with each exhale. His hand pushes into the front of your jeans and dives right for the apex, finding your folds and clit wet and hot. Your mouths both fall open in unison - yours from the touch you didn’t realize you had been waiting for, his from the delight of it all.

He hums as his fingers start to play with you, rubbing and circling, flicking at that sensitive little bud between your legs. He feels your body tighten and the soft rock of your hips as a gentle, soft, feminine moan escapes from your lips. He tilts his head as he watches your eyes flutter from the contact - the sight of you, your smell, your soft skin, your sounds - it all makes him wish he’d been human all along.

He pushes his fingers inside of you suddenly, pulling a sharp gasp from your lips. You push your hips forward and let your mouth go slack again as your eyes close to slits. He pulls his fingers out slowly, then delves back inside of you, hooking them as he starts to stroke your slick muscles.

Your body jerks gently as you grunt, your sounds husky and full. He keeps your chin in the palm of his hand, his fingers pressing into your cheeks as he stares down at you. He licks your mouth - over your chin and lips, up to the tip of your nose before he tongues the roof of your mouth, groaning as lust ripples through his body.

He kisses you suddenly. Hard. Hungry. You moan into his mouth before breaking the kiss to hiss and groan from his pumping fingers. You roll your hips into his hand as your head falls forward, squeezing your muscles around him to add more pressure.

He pulls out of you suddenly, whipping you back around and slamming you into the wall. You hold yourself up with your hands, spreading your fingers out on the wall as your chest heaves with anticipation. He pops your button and fly and pushes the thick material down to your knees as you push your ass back into him. You slide your hand to your clit, massaging yourself with the tips of your fingers as you hear him fumble with his own pants.

His hands are back on your hips, his nails digging into your thick flesh as he slams into you. You jolt forward, moaning loudly as he starts to fuck into you hard - the sound of his skin slapping against your bouncing off the walls around you. You slam your eyes closed as you lunge forward with each thrust, your fingers still working your swollen clit.

Bucky works your shirt up over your breasts before he pulls at the cups of your bra, freeing your bouncing tits. He cups them, then tweaks your thick, hard nipples before he wraps his large hand around your throat. He squeezes, tightening your airway as he rams into you from behind. Your fingers still push along your clit, slapping at the sensitive bud before you rub it as hard and fast as you can.

He feels different - thicker than before. His cock seems to pulse while inside of you, filling up every inch of space your cunt has to offer. You can feel the blood coursing through the thick vein that runs the length of his cock - feel the thick, sticky cum bubbling from his slit. He pushes his cum deep; each thrust spilling more of his luxuriant seed into you. His sex is hot - the sheer heat radiating from every inch of him makes sweat pop along your skin. His fingers start to burn you again and you cry out in pain as burns mark your flesh.

You feel the pull in the pit of your stomach, the pressure starting to build as your body tightens intuitively. Bucky curls his fingers over your shoulders as he feels your pussy start to squeeze down on him and pulls you harder back into him. His eyes fall to your ass as your flesh jiggles with each thrust.

You close your eyes again and let your head fall, bracing for the impending orgasm that threatens to consume your body. Small ripples of it flash through you, making you tense suddenly. Bucky’s fingers cover yours to help you massage your clit until you’re a shivering, shrieking mess.

You cum all around his rigid cock. You’re loud - panting and moaning as you thrust back into him, releasing more waves of your long overdue release throughout your body. Your clit convulses, jumping with each contraction of your cunt, your muscles tensing and squeezing around him.

Bucky continues to slam into you, each stroke coming harder and faster than the last until a low, animalistic growl rumbles through his chest. Your wet muscles coax his orgasm right out of him, pulling more ribbons of cum from his slit as he ruts into you. He fills you up, so much so that he spills back out of you, making a mess of your already quivering, wet thighs. He grips your flesh so hard as he fucks into you, small bruises form instantly on your hips.

He pumps into you one last time and holds still, wiggling his hips to push himself deeper into your sex as his cock continues to spit. You tighten your muscles, holding him in, feeling each spurt, each jump, each pulse of his cock until your orgasm recedes back into the depths of your body.

You keep your eyes closed as your breath rushes, your heart racing. Bucky pulls out of you unceremoniously, slapping his dick against the inside of your thigh before he plunges his fingers back inside of you quickly.

He then shoves them in his mouth, moaning as your familiar taste explodes on his taste buds, “Bucky has good taste.” He chuckles, slapping your ass before he tucks himself back into his jeans.

You’re not sure what you feel right in this moment. Shame? Regret? Excitement? Relief? It’s a foreign feeling - whatever it is. One that maybe you used to know, but can’t really put your finger on now. Living through an apocalypse will do that to you. It humbles you. It breaks you down to the bare minimum of what you are; makes you shed everything unnecessary - like shame, regret, excitement, and relief.

You pull your jeans back up over your hips and turn to face the demon in front of you. You lean against the wall and watch as he pulls another cigarette from his pocket and lights it with the fire he conjures at the tips of his fingers.

“Feel better now?” He asks after a few minutes, “Maybe you can let me be.”

“I don’t believe you.” You say calmly, blinking at him.

He rolls his eyes as he expels a puff of smoke through his nostrils and lips, “What don’t you believe, darling?”

“You can give him back to me.”

He scoffs, walking right up to you again. He presses his forehead to yours, pushing until your head rests against the wall behind you. He taps on your temple with his index finger slowly, his yellow eyes bouncing between yours, “Your Bucky is gone. Get it through that thick skull of yours.”

“I don’t believe you.” You whisper, defying his every word.

He leans back, smiling in pity of you, “Why not?”

“Because I told her so, Azazel.”

You both snap your heads toward the new voice. Bucky grabs you and pulls you in front of him as he backs his way into the center of the room. He peers over your shoulder at the tall, blonde man as he moves slowly into the room, the tips of his long, gloriously white wings dragging on the ground behind him.

Your chest starts to heave again as Bucky grips your bicep hard as he continues to back up, his eyes squinted as he tries to make out the face of the unknown man. You can feel when it clicks for him. His grip lessens just slightly, he straightens up, he lets out a breath.

“Michael.”

The blonde man smiles gently, “It’s Steve down here.”

Bucky snarls as he keeps you pressed to his front, “These human names are ridiculous, aren’t they?”

“I don’t know,” Steve shrugs, “I kinda like Steve.”

“You would,” Bucky chuckles, “How are you, brother? It’s been a long time.”

Steve smiles again, his brilliant blue eyes sparkling underneath the moonlight spilling in from the broken windows, “I’m well. I miss you, we all do.”

“I miss you too, Michael.” Bucky answers earnestly, “I do, I mean that.”

“Then come home.” Bucky starts to speak, but Steve holds up his hand, “You can help us end this. Return her fiancé to her, and help us set this right.”

Bucky scoffs, “And ruin all the fun? I don’t think so. I quite like being bad.” He curls his fingers around your neck again, kissing your cheek as he starts to sway with you back and forth, “You should try it. It’s fun - freeing, if you will.”

“This isn’t fun, Azazel. People dying isn’t a game.”

Bucky groans as he rolls his eyes dramatically, “Can you fucking lighten up? Jesus.”

“Azazel,” Steve starts.

“It’s Bucky up here,” he mocks, wrapping his arm around your waist, “Isn’t it, sweet thing?”

Steve steps a little closer, “Talk to me, please. This isn’t about her.”

“This isn’t about her?” he laughs, “You used her, Michael, to get to me, and now it’s not about her?”

“I didn’t use her. You’re my brother, I can feel you, we all can.”

“We, we, we,” Bucky shouts, tightening his grip around you, “So, you’re all here, hm?”

“Yes.” Steve answers calmly, “Gabriel, Uriel - we all came to help.”

“Oh yes, because you love these repugnant creatures so fucking much, right?” Bucky shouts back, a sudden anger flashing through him as he gestures towards you, “Right?!”

Your heart rate quickens as you stare at Steve, watching as he stays as cool as a cucumber, “Yes.” Steve responds softly, “I do. I love them. We’re supposed to love them, Azazel.”

“They’re disgusting!” Bucky seethes behind you, “Humans lie, they cheat, they steal, they kill! They turn on each other like animals, they desecrate their bodies -” he grabs your chin and pushes it upward gruffy, causing you to hiss in pain, “This one just let me fuck her knowing exactly what I am,” he takes a long pause, “And you still believe they deserve our love?” He finishes, his voice barely above a whisper.

Steve dips his head, but smiles and lets out a small laugh, “I’m not saying they’re smart.”

He drops his hand from your chin and turns his head to the side, staring at the opposite wall. His body is tense, the heat of his anger radiating through every pore of his skin, “We gave him our undivided attention - unconditional love and devotion, and he chose them over us every single time. That doesn’t make you angry?” He hisses lowly, his voice wavering just slightly, “It doesn’t make you want to see them suffer? After everything he’s done for them, how much he loves them and for what? Just for them to turn their backs on him.”

“That’s not for us to decide, Azazel.” Steve says, his voice still gentle, still calm, not wanting to agitate him anymore, “You know what’s happening here is wrong. This is not our playground. If they destroy themselves, then so be it, but we can’t make that happen, especially out of spite.”

“Spite? Oh,” Bucky laughs again, shaking his head, “This isn’t spite, this is full on hatred. I loved him,” he spits, venom dripping from every word, “I loved him more than anything, more than anyone - and he cast me aside that I was nothing.”

“You were proud, Azazel.” Steve says firmly, taking a step towards him, “Too proud, too bold. You started to question him, he had no choice but to cast you out.”

“Bullshit!” Bucky shouts loudly, “He could have just loved me the way he loves these filthy humans.”

Steve closes his eyes, “You can still come home.”

“I don’t want to come home. I told you, I like it here.” He seethes, his voice low in your ear, licking your cheek with his hot tongue to antagonize Steve.

“Bucky was a good man,” you say softly, your voice shaking as you try to reason with him, “You know that, you can feel it, I know you can. That’s why you don’t hurt me. You can’t - he’s too good, and you can’t control it.”

You feel his eyes on you and the anger still brimming underneath his surface. He drags his fingernails along your cheek before he cups your chin again, “Thanks for the swell time, baby girl.”

“Wait,” you say, trying to turn to face him, “Wait, please. Just listen to Steve, we’re not trying to-“

You blink, and he’s gone. You turn and let out a sigh as you stare into the dark warehouse.

Steve moves up beside you, placing his hand on your shoulder and rubbing softly, “Are you alright?”

You blink again, a numbness coming over you, “Yeah.” You say after a minute or two.

“You…” his words fall away as he tries to make his question as delicate as possible, “You mated with him?”

Your mouth falls open, but you shut it after a few seconds tick by, not having any sort of come back, “Please don’t, Steve.”

“That wasn’t part of the plan.”

“I realize that,” you sigh again, “Thank you. I just got… caught up. It’s - you wouldn’t understand. It’s been awhile.”

He rolls his eyes, his wings swishing behind him, “For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh and the lust of the eyes and the boastful pride of life, is not from the Father, but is from the world.” He quotes, shaking his head softly.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes, sighing lightly, “Not now, okay? Please.”

“For while we were in the flesh, the sinful passions, which were aroused by the Law, were at work in the members of our body to bear fruit for death.”

“Steve!”

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, bowing his head, spitting out a quick prayer for you before he centers himself, “Did you get it?”

You hold out your hand. In the center of your palm sits the silver chain that was once around Bucky’s neck and the discarded butt of his cigarette. The apocalypse teaches you all sorts of tricks - like slipping a chain off of a demon’s neck while he argues with an archangel. Steve grabs them from you, bringing them to his nose to sniff them quickly, “These will be perfect. Now come, you need to wash the sin off of you.”

“God, you’re annoying.” You groan. Steve cuts his eyes toward you again as he presses his lips together in a hard line. You throw your hands up, “Sorry, sorry, sorry. Jes- I mean… fuck, sorry.”

He sighs heavily, “You’re lucky I like you.”

You laugh a little as the two of you start to move back through the building, “I’m sorry, this is just,”

“It’s a lot, I know. But hey,” he grabs your wrist, stopping you so you’ll face him, “We’re gonna get your Bucky back. We just have to get this back to Gabriel and Uriel and we’ll have everything we need to summon Azazel to us and remove him from the vessel.”

“He’s not a vessel,” you correct quickly, “He’s a person, he had a life. His name is Bucky.”

Steve notes the emotion in your voice, “I’m sorry. Bucky, we’ll remove him from Bucky. This will work, I promise you.”

You nod slowly as you let him pull you into a hug, “I believe you.”

He knows deep down that you don’t - not really - not yet, anyway.

He’s determined to make a believer of you.

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skylarmoon71 · 3 years

Text

Raphael x Parker Reader- Chapter 2 -(TMNT 2014/2016)

"Oww."

You rubbed your head, squinting as you looked over at the clock. You barely remembered falling asleep, much less on the ground. At least you'd woken up in time for your night job. Grabbing your glasses, you rolled your shoulders getting up. Picking up your phone you shoved it into your pocket, hoisting your bag up as you headed downstairs. May was sitting reading the newspaper on the couch. You took an apple from the counter, tucking it into the backpack.

"Honey, I don't like you working these night shifts, they're dangerous." you shrugged off the comment. "I'll be fine Aunt May, besides I'll be graduating in a few years. All of this is going towards my college fund. "

"That doesn't mean you should kill yourself working, what about your GPA."

"My GPA is fine. I'll have to get used to it when I go away. So I'm preparing for it now. " pulling the bag unto your shoulder, you took off your glasses, wiping it slightly before placing it back on your face.

"I don't think Ben would have liked the way you're overworking yourself." That statement made your body stiff.

"He's not here." you replied coldly. Gripping the strap on your bad tighter, you turned, heading for the door.

"Don't wait up." You were out the door before anymore words could be exchanged. Why did she have to bring up his name?

Agitated, and a bit frustrated, you just head for the night job. Most people hated janitorial jobs, but the one you snagged paid pretty well. You guessed it was because of the hours. Night shifts were the worst, but it was the best distraction from all your problems. You needed to say active. Continuously occupied not just at school, but work too, it probably wasn't the healthiest thing, especially since you'd passed out after your school trip at that genetics lab a few weeks ago. Since then you'd been feeling like crap.

You scratched the red bug bite on your hand absentmindedly. You should have gotten it checked out, between the headaches and chills, you just crossed it off as a bug or infection. You really thought it would have passed by now. Constantly working your body maybe wasn't helping either.

"You deserve this, it's your fault."

You grimace, trying to rid your mind of that inner voice.

"Get to work." As soon as you got there, everything would be better.

~~~~~

You clocked in with the security guard, waving at the man as you pushed the bucket.

"It's Friday night, what are you doing, go and do teenage stuff kid." you shook your head.

"No can do Mr. Reese, gotta put the hours in." He shook his head with a smile. "Enjoy life now, trust me. There's nothing wrong with being driven, just don't let it be all that you're about. You feel me?"

"I hear you!!" clicking the elevator, you entered pressing the button for the top floor.

Two hours into your cleaning, and you were actually starting to feel a tinge bit better. You scrubbed and wiped every surface. At one point you'd stopped to watch the view. This particular building was one of those publishing departments. Scandalous articles were usually thought up and printed in this room. You gazed over at the desk.

Journalism was somewhat intriguing to you. But science would forever be your first love.

The clicking of a lock behind your back made you flinch. You spun around.

"J-John?"

Not a sound.

You squinted, eyes zeroing on the door. You were pretty sure no one else but you were scheduled to work on this floor, and John checked the halls every thirty minutes, he'd buzz by not too long ago, so it couldn't have been him. Your brows furrowed when you heard another unfamiliar sound from ahead.

You approached cautiously, looking around the room. There was nothing but computers and monitors in here. The flickering of the lights ahead didn't do much to calm your nerves. As you rounded the corner, your stomach dropped at the sight of John ducked taped and lying on the floor, blood running from his forehead. His eyes caught you, orbs widening as he tried to move upright. He thrashed about, groaning and trying his best to scream over the tape on his lips. The clicking of a gun behind stopped you in your tracks.

"What do we have here, so the old man was lying, I knew there was someone else here." your heart was racing. "Turn around slowly, try anything and I'll blow your head off. " you swallowed, raising your hands slowly as you turned. Now facing the man you could make out his features. Early thirties, dirty blond hair, dark eyes and a malicious smile on his lips.

"L-Listen h-he's got kids, please. Whatever you need I can get it for you, just leave him alone. "

The smile on his face got wider. "I'm impressed, I thought for sure you would beg for your life. You got guts, I'll give you that. " he pointed the gun at John, and you panicked, stepping in front of it. John couldn't do much but watch helplessly. You could hear him sobbing in the background as you blocked his way.

"P-Please."

"Sorry kid, nothing personal. I already got what I came for." He flashed the flash drive in front of your face, tucking it into his pocket.

"Unfortunate for you, I can't have any witnesses. Went through hell to disable all the camera's on the floor. Can't have you both snitching on me." He fires a shot, and you jumped as it broke the glass behind you. You could hear it shattering in the background, and he let out another laugh.

"Bad shot, sorry. Don't worry, I'll make it quick." your eyes hardened. He was enjoying this. He took a step forward, placing it right over your heart, and John closed his eyes, resting his head on the floor in defeat. You however weren't planning to give up that easily. You screamed unexpectedly, throwing him off slightly. The action gives you about a millisecond to direct the gun away from your heart. You slapped his hand sharply, and he gritted his teeth, firing. The bullet went off ahead, and the gun flew out his hands a good distance away, and you shoved him, rushing to grab it before he could get a hold of it.

"BITCH!!"

He sprinted after you, and right as you dove to get the gun, his body collided with yours. The scream that releases from you this time is very real, because of your close proximity to the glass windows, your back hits the flat surface.

The cracking echoes in your ears, and before you know it your free falling, so is your assailant. In your haste to grab something solid, you end up pulling him. Both of you are free falling. Tears build up behind your eyes, and one last attempt to grip something, your hands skid on the edge of the building, except now, you're no longer moving, or falling for that matter. Your eyes are still tightly shut, and you're wondering if maybe you're already dead. If so, that was fairly quick, painless. But that isn't the case. You can still feel the wind.

"Wind?"

You crack an eye open. They both spring open when you look down.

"SHIT!!" your locked unto the side of the building still, how? You have absolutely no idea. Your head turns, and your fingers are stuck to the glass like a suction. You blink a few times, heart still hammering. The vicious male who attacked you is also alive, but he's in a very different situation. Unconscious too from what you can tell.

There's a long metal chain hanging from the top of the building, wrapped around his ankle. You track it to the top, and your eyes meet with a pair of emerald ones. The figure there makes you question a lot of things, and he's staring at you with the same level of shock. Possibly because you're stuck to the side of a twenty story building like it's nothing. He's not human, not even close, but you're starting to wonder if that's maybe your brain trying to make sense of all that's going on.

"Raph!"

The scream catches his attention and he yanks the chain roughly, hoisting the male into the air like he weighs nothing.

You're still partially paralyzed, and it dawns on you that whatever is going on, you should get a move on before the effects wear off and you fall to your death. So very cautiously, you inch up the building. You're moving slowly, calculated.

Making out the broken opening your bodies made, you hoist yourself into it, dropping down back first on the ground with a sigh of relief. You don't even pay mind to the clear cuts on your palms from the glass. Must be the adrenaline.

All you know is, something has definitely changed.

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acciomalfoy · 4 years

Text

BETROTHED (DRACO MALFOY X READER)

Summary: To avoid you being betrothed to an old man, Draco comes up with a plan.

—

"Dear Y/n, your mother and I have discussed your coming of age in great depth, and we have decided your betrothal has been delayed far too long. We will begin meeting with potential suitors immediately, as far too many eyes are watching us. We're looking forward to seeing you at Christmas. Best wishes, your Father."

I gasped as I crumpled the letter, shoving it deep into my pocket. How could they do this? I knew I shouldn't have opened anything from them in the Great Hall, but as the tears fell, I only just remembered why. I stood up quickly and walked as fast as I could out of the Hall. As soon as I was out, I broke off running, my loud sobs echoing in the castle. Paintings stared at me as I ran past, their disapproving eyes raking me over.

"How did that one get into Slytherin?" I heard one murmur, a snicker followed. I ran straight around one of the corners, and smacked right into someone.

"L/n?" Godric, why? Malfoy held my wrists in front of me, staring into my blotchy face.

"Let go of me." I sniffed, and tried to pull away. His grip only tightened, but his tone softened.

"L/n. What's wrong? Did someone say something to you?" His voice sounded concerned, but this was Draco Malfoy of all people. Did the boy even know what the word meant?

"M-My parents!" Tears rolled down and down my face. I didn't want to be married to a sixty year old man. I wanted to be free to love who I yearned to, like the Weasley's were.

"What about them? Are they okay?" When I lowered my head, he let go of one of my wrists to lift it.

"They're betrothing me!" I wiped my nose and another round of sobs overtook me. Of course, I knew a girl two years below me who was already married off, but for some reason I never thought it would happen to me. One of my friends was, but Tracy swore he was only twenty. A name like Engleberton doesn't sound like it belongs to a twenty year old.

"I'm sorry, L/n. You know, it does happen to pretty much every Slytherin. Who's it to?" And then we were hugging, in the middle of a corridor. I knew his problems were so much bigger than him, or me, but for some reason he was listening to me. He was caring about what I had to say.

"I don't know. They've only just begun the meetings. My life is over!" He patted my back, and I tried not to cry on him, I really did. But then my nose and my eyes were leaking, me being powerless to stop them.

"How would you feel about being betrothed to someone in Hogwarts." His head leant on mine, and I really didn't know what was happening.

"Pretty much every pureblood is inbred here. I think I'm the only one who isn't. If only Pansy's parents weren't cousins, maybe she wouldn't have that nose." He stepped back, and looked at me.

"I'm not." He murmured, and I almost had to lean forward to hear it. He wasn't inbred? Damn, could've fooled me.

"Listen, Malfoy. I appreciate it, I really do. I used to have a crush on you, back in third year. The thing is, you've changed. You're a slave, and the binding tattoo on your arm is the only thing stopping me from kissing you right now. I really wish we could have worked through it, but there is no way in hell that I will ever, ever have an allegiance to him. I would rather die." When I jerked my arm back, his fingers fell.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy. I really am." I forgot about the reason he was being nice, and remembered I was probably going to be married to a sixty year old. I shed another tear, and walked away from the saviour. If he couldn't save himself, then he couldn't save me.

"Wait!" He shouted after me, and I turned around in surprise.

"What if I changed sides?" His eyes were wild, and mine widened. Was he..?

"Malfoy, you don't have to do that." I looked at him, the impulsive slytherin, and sighed.

"I do. If I want to have you, then I have to. You said so. I'll go owl mother and, well, I'll see." With that, he turned around and walked away, in a similar way to I had. Except he wasn't crying, or even sniffling. He was being a saviour, and he was trying.

When I turned in the opposite direction, I realised what it meant. He was really trying to protect me. I had always assumed Pansy and Malfoy would end up married with little blonde pug babies. I had never seemed to catch his eye, except now, when it mattered most. I reached into my pocket to pull out the crumpled letter, and reread it. Godric, I hoped Draco would help me.

A week had passed when Pansy came barrelling into the Great Hall, a newspaper clutched in her hand. She was waving it about, and I couldn't hear what she was saying.

"Engaged! Can you believe it?" She shrieked as she passed some students. When her eyes caught mine, she raced over.

"When were you going to tell me? Salazar, Y/n! You know I like him! We were always meant to be together. Fuck, this really stings. You're my best friend, how could you do this?" Her eyes started watering, and I snatched the newspaper out of her hand.

"The Malfoys and L/n's exciting news? What the fuck?" I skimmed the front page, and I felt bile rising in my throat.

"Oh my Godric, I'm-I'm going to be sick!" I looked around desperately, but I couldn't see a single thing nearby that I could throw up in.

"L/n!" Malfoy was yelling at me, and as soon as I saw him I couldn't help it. My vomit flew all over him, and I stared at him.

"How could you? You evil bastard!" I shouted at him before shouldering him as I ran past. Fucking cow! How on earth could he do this? Deep down, I already knew what I was going to do. If my betrothed was a death eater, then I would have to talk to Harry. Harry Potter could help me, he would have to help me.

I knew where the Gryffindor common room was, thanks to being study partners with Hermione. Smartest girl I've ever known. I ran up the stairs, swallowing the taste of vomit in my throat. I cast a quick spell, and the scent vanished, as well as my uniform being cleaned up. I knocked desperately on the portrait, and a first year opened it.

"I need Harry." If Harry came, then I knew the other two would. Sure enough, Harry was in the middle, the other two flanking him.

"Y/n! I heard the news! Are you okay?" He was hugging me, and I was reminded of how sweet he was.

"No, I'm not. Malfoy's a death eater, I'm sure you already suspected it. I told him last week I wasn't getting married to him if he was on that side, and he said he would change sides. He hasn't, and I haven't heard anything to show that he is. I need your help to put him on the right path, or I'm going to have to leave Hogwarts. Permanently. I'll be running away if I have to marry a death eater." I said it quickly, but the golden trio caught every word. Hermione's hand went to her mouth, but it was more in horror than surprise.

"We suspected, but we didn't know for sure." Hermione said, looking at me quite sadly.

"We have to go to Dumbledore. He can help us. Draco can join the order-" Harry began.

"No, Harry. For Malfoy to join the order, he has to be one hundred percent loyal. He has to go against everything he's been taught, and the very role he is destined to fill. He has to abandon his family, unless they are willing also. This is incredibly serious. We have to talk to him first." Hermione finished. Harry nodded slowly.

"I'll check the map." He turned around, and I watched his retreating figure as he went up the stairs.

"Thank you guys. You're seriously the best. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it." Ron looked uncomfortable, but Hermione smiled back. They gestured for me to come inside, and the portrait closed behind me.

"It would be an incredible advantage to have the Malfoy's on our side. That's practically an unlimited funding, and with their high status they may be the deciding factor in whether other families join us. I only hope we can convince them." Hermione brushed a hair out of her face as Harry came thundering down the stairs.

"He's in Dumbledore's office!" Harry pointed at his name, and I stared. He was doing it. I didn't know why he was trying so hard to help me. I couldn't help but wonder if he had ulterior motives. Malfoy has hardly noticed me, I'm not sure he's uttered a word to me. And now? Now he's going to the ends of the earth for me. I didn't know what to think.

"He must really care for you." Hermione put a hand on my shoulder, and I nodded, swallowing thickly.

"I know it's horrible of me to wonder, but he hasn't shown any interest in me for the five and a half years that we've been at Hogwarts. Surely, if he was doing all this to help me, he would have?" I looked wildly at the three best friends, and they gazed back at me, almost pityingly.

"He has, Y/n. He really has." Ron said. I shook my head.

"He hasn't. He seriously hasn't." Ron laughed, but his heart wasn't in it.

"In first year, I called you Malfoy's girlfriend when he was picking on us. He screamed at me, and then he threatened to snap my wand if I said your name again." Ron looked almost spooked at the memory, and I rolled my eyes.

"That's him being protective of a fellow Slytherin, not him having a crush." Hermione raised her eyebrows, and I raised mine back.

"Fine. I caught him doodling your name and his, with hearts around them." Hermione looked smug, and I laughed.

"Probably drawing crosses through my name." They all sighed.

"D'you remember last time gryffindor versed slytherin? When Malfoy fell off his broom?" Godric, how could I forget? He had an empty look in his eyes, and it scared me.

"Yeah?" I didn't know how on earth they could relate this one to me.

"He was making fun of me, so I told him I had a crush on you. I said something like, after I ask Y/n to celebrate gryffindor winning, we'll see who's laughing. I think that's what I said. He went completely white, even paler than normal. Then a gust of wind came, and it was like he wanted to fall. He let the wind take him." Harry looked at me, and I knew, deep down, he was telling the truth. A knock at the portrait interrupted us. I moved aside, and Hermione opened it. She stared.

"Who is it? Oh, blimey." Ron took a peek, and he didn't like what he saw. I poked my head around to see Malfoy. His eyes caught mine, and I looked away to see his robes were no longer covered in vomit. Good for him.

"Y/n, please come talk to me." My first name sounded foreign on his tongue. I looked at my friends, and despite their hatred for Malfoy, they nodded. I stepped hesitantly, and the portrait closed behind me. He gestured for me to walk with him, so I did.

"I owled my mother last week, like I told you. She didn't reply, and when the newspaper was released this morning I found out, just like everyone else. I know you're not willing to be a slave to Him like the rest of my family, and I agree. I've been given a task by Him, and I don't intend on doing it. I talked to my mother in a firecall this morning, and they are moving into a location known only to them, and the secret keeper, much like Potter's parents. They'll be protected there, and I'm protected here. I'm trying to fix this, Y/n, I really am." It was a lot of information, and he took my hand as he was speaking. The Malfoy's were going into hiding. That alone was massive. Their assets must have been frozen and transferred, so He can't access the funding. I looked at him, and squeezed his hand.

"Thank you, Malfoy. It really does mean a lot. I have to ask you, why are you doing this?" We stopped walking, and he looked down.

"I've had a crush on you since first year, and I've wanted you for three." Godric knew what he meant by 'want'. I kissed him, right there in the middle of the hall, because his nose was dotted in faint freckles, and never before had someone been so determined to help me.

He kissed me back.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #slytherin #harry potter

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yellowocaballero · 4 years

Text

The Crow’s Funeral AU: Martin Fixes Everything

Stared a long while ago and wrapped up at the request of an anon. This was written because, while I was wrapping up TCF, I thought...’man, if Martin had just been able to find Jon when he woke up, none of this story would have ever happened’. Like, Daisy and Jon enable each other, but Martin just shuts that shit down. No CW that don’t apply to TCF, except maybe for very oblique references to suicide attempts.

A shadow dimmed the reading light, and Jonathan Sims irritably looked up. From his vantage point on the floor, he saw a towering figure above him - a human, somewhat circular, faintly recognizable, looking strongly as if he had run into his own personal nightmare. But no, not quite - there was something far more complicated in that face than fear. Which was a pity. If it wasn’t fear, Jonathan Sims didn’t understand it at all.

“Jon? Christ, Jon, is that you? Jon!”

Ah, Jonathan Sims thought faintly. The man from the cabin.

Maybe he should have ran further.

The man found Jonathan Sims two weeks later, reading a romance novel as he lay on the floor underneath a table.

Upstairs, seized throats choked screams. Library patrons shuddered in the Dark, early victims of a terror just beginning. Some of them would escape, staggering home to their mourning families. Some would stumble home, only to find that their families were unrecognizable to them - or they were unrecognizable to their families. Others would not escape, shivering between stacks for the rest of time.

Jonathan Sims enjoyed the ambiance, and the vast quantity of books. Books were fun. Not that the world wasn’t fun and exciting and always filled with an interesting little drama to stop and watch, but books had things the world didn’t. Like dragons and spaceships and planes. Like happy smiles and...a horse ranch? Heavily muscled cowboys? But the farmer’s daughter would never let herself fall for a wanderin’ man -

“Jon? Christ, Jon, is that you? Jon!”

Ah, Jonathan Sims thought faintly. The man from the cabin.

Maybe he should have ran further.

*****

“I cannot believe you!”

Jonathan Sims - Jon, according to this very infuriated man who was currently clamping Jon’s wrist like a vice - could do nothing but stumble after the man as he was dragged through the village. To be fair, he didn’t mind - this was the first time he had been manhandled in his life, or at least so far that he could remember. Humans didn’t really tend to touch him. They did a lot of talking and crying whenever he met them. To be honest, he had begun assuming that they were interesting conversationalists but altogether somewhat dim-witted. It was interesting to see this contrary example currently chewing his ear off.

Experimentally, he tried to open his Eye and Know who this man was and what Jonathan Sims had personally done to wrong him. But all he received was grating feedback - an infuriatingly familiar roadblock that sprung whenever Jonathan Sims attempted to understand what had brought him to that small cabin in the midst of a storm so severe it turned the sky green.

“First you run off. During the apocalypse, of all things! I spend ages running after you, absolutely unable to find hide or hair of you. Then two weeks later I catch wind of a sketchy guy making a nuisance of himself interrogating everyone in Dunbeath, and I go - great, that’s our Jon for you! What on earth do you have to say for yourself!”

Jon - he was really warming up to this moniker, it rolled off the tongue nicely - tripped over a loose rock, almost sending himself sprawling in a tumble of gangly limbs before he caught himself. “Uh, I’m not -”

“Dunbeath, Jon! You made me walk to Dunbeath in the apocalypse!”

“I’m quite sorry -”

“I don’t want a sorry!” The man released him abruptly, forcing Jon to almost windmill his arms to right himself again, and he whirled on him. But where Jon was expecting a face red with anger, he instead saw an expression crumpled up in pain. Jon realized for the first time that the man was on the verge of tears. “I was so worried, Jon! I thought you were dead, or - or worse, or so much worse. You said you’d stop running. You said that we were a team now, that you’d never leave me behind. But you left. I needed you, I was scared, and you left me. You know I’ve been through hell, and you left…”

Then, horrifically, tragically, he really did start crying.

It was quiet, less gross sobs and more soft hitches of breath, but something about it was unbearably exhausted. It was the tears of a man who had been holding them in for too long, only released because he was too exhausted to keep them inside anymore. It was oddly bestial, and very sad.

It made Jon a little sad, to see the man crying like this.

He remembered something he read in a book, just that morning. One person had been sad, and the other person had...well, the book called it hugging. He thought he might have seen it a few days ago, when an older woman clung desperately to a younger woman who kept on screaming something about beatles. It was the same principle, wasn’t it?

Experimentally, he held his arms out, feeling like a bit of an idiot, and he was rewarded (?) when the man immediately moved closer and pressed himself close to Jon, his face buried in his shoulder. It was comfortable, familiar, and instinctual, and Jon found himself loosely wrapping his arms around the man.

They...hugged. Jon felt weird about it. But it was nice? Why was it nice?

Then the man casually reached up, gently took Jon’s cheeks in his hands, and bent him down to kiss him.

Jon’s brain short circuited.

It lasted an excruciatingly long time, and also no time at all. The man released him, stepping back and frowning. It must have been something in Jon’s reaction - the way he stiffened or tensed. Or maybe, from where he was pressed up against Jon’s chest, he didn’t feel a heartbeat. Jon had read that humans had those.

“Jon?” The man asked, face creased in sweet confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“Um,” Jon said, feeling unbearably awkward about all of this, “who are you, again?”

*****

At least they didn’t go back to that creepy little cabin.

Instead, Jon found that the man - “Martin, Jon, Jesus, my name is Martin!” - was staying in something called an ‘Air-Bee-en-Bee’ at the outskirts of the village. Or perhaps squatting was a better term - when Jon was guided inside, he saw the telltale signs of a life quickly disrupted. The previous resident of this cute little cottage had left in a hurry, as if it would save her.

He experimentally opened his Eyes, ignoring Martin’s - or was it Michael? - raised eyebrow, and let himself Know the information. Ah, excellent - the Hunt. She had thought that her ex-husband had chased her down to Scotland from France. Delightful. He wondered what the Ex-Husband was really doing -

“Jon! Focus, please.”

Jon guiltily let his eyes close and his hair float back down. Michael didn’t seem surprised by the display, just exhausted. He collapsed at a little circular kitchen table, a woman’s hairbrush and a newspaper still spread out on it. Jon cautiously sat down on the chair next to him, feeling strangely guilty. He didn’t know why. Maybe it had to do with how stressed out and afraid and tired the other man looked, and how Jon was sure that it was all his fault.

“This has been the worst two weeks of my life,” Martin said, face buried in his hands. “Which says a lot, really. I’ve had a real shite life, but this is really just - just beyond the pale.”

“Okay?” Jon didn’t know what to do with this. Martin seemed as if he needed to vent a little, but Jon didn’t know how to be comforting. Wait - wait, this was his speciality. He was too off guard to think of it before, but it would obviously fix this situation. Jon let his irises spin as Martin looked up from his hands, startled at their green light. “Why did -”

“Stop that,” Martin said sharply, and Jon did.

He shut up. He closed his mouth and swallowed the question. He had never - no Statement for the Archivist? - why had - what -

“I understand you’re scared and confused,” Martin explained, not answering the question of how he had done that. “But you can’t just compel people like that. No matter what the world looks like now, you know it’s wrong.”

“I - I do?” Jon asked, flabbergasted.

Martin faltered a little. “Do you not?”

They stared at each other until Jon began to feel a little defensive. As if he was doing something wrong by just - by just existing. It was eating, what wasn’t natural about that! Jon leaned back in his chair, finding himself crossing his arms. “You’re the first human I’ve had an actual conversation with, so excuse me if I don’t know how it works.”

But Martin just looked gobsmacked, mouth opening and closing as Jon begins to tire of this conversation. He unfolds his arms and leans forward, tugging the newspaper closer to him. The headline ran a cheerful story about how Farmer Douglas McIntyre had won an award for the biggest zucchini. Good for him! Jon wondered what Farmer Doug was doing now. Immediately after he had that thought, he knew exactly what Farmer Doug was doing right now, and he spared a second to feel very bad for him.

“Jon, you’re a human.”

Hm. Maybe this Martin guy didn’t know as much about Jon as he pretended. Jon didn’t look up from the newspaper, flipping the page. Oh, look, the Horoscopes. “Don’t be silly. I’m an Archive.”

That quieted Martin, who seemed to be thinking very hard. Jon tried to remember what his birthday was. He had read it on that little card that had been in his pocket - right, right, February 14th. Aquarius.

“I read the statement you left on the floor,” Martin said quietly, and Jon abruptly shut up. What statement? “Jonah lied, you know. That’s all he does, is lie. You’re not an Archive, a thing, you’re - even if you’re not human anymore, you’re a person. You know that, Jon. In your heart, even if you don’t remember. You’re more than what Jonah tried to make you.” He looked down at the table, as if he couldn’t bear to look at Jon anymore. “What he succeeded in making you, I guess.”

The words soothed an anxiety Jon didn’t even know he had. They settled something in him, calmed him and reassured him. But they incensed him too, this blatant disregard of something Jon knew was true. Martin seemed good at that, both riling him up and calming him. How was his control over Jon’s emotions so effortless, as if he wasn’t doing it on purpose at all. It was a talent.

“Who even are you?” Jon snapped, feeling flayed raw and vulnerable. But he always felt like that, really - lost and dazed. The world was too loud for him sometimes, too novel and exciting and relentless, and Jon spent long hours cooped up in a dark room with a good book just for some safety. There wasn’t anything around that could hurt Jon - he knew that like he knew he was an Archive, no matter what Martin said - but he still felt so scared, all the time. “What gives you the right to tell me who and what I am like this?”

What would ameliorate that fear? The only thing Jon could think of was to understand where he came from a little bit better, and understand what he had been doing before two weeks ago. If he had been doing anything at all. Jon had wondered if that moment was when he had been born, but - well, the clothing he was wearing had been somewhat threadbare, and the card indicated a history.

He hadn’t entirely ruled out that he was a sort of...manifestation of this newly apocalyptic world inserted inside the corpse of a man who took his last breath the second Jon took his first, but he was keeping his options open. If what Martin was saying was true, that he really was a person who had simply run afoul of Jonah Magnus and paid the ultimate price...he didn’t know if it made him feel better or worse. Maybe a little worse, actually?

But Martin just seemed shocked by the question, shocked by Jon’s need to ask it, shocked that he didn’t even understand. No, not shocked - maybe just very sad and tired. He seemed so tired. “Jon, I’m your boyfriend.”

“Oh.” That explained a lot. Jon narrowed his eyes. “But you don’t look like a cowboy,” he said, somewhat reproachfully.

Martin stifled a laugh behind a hand. Jon felt strangely pleased, even if he hadn’t been making a joke.

Then something seemed to occur to Martin, because he straightened abruptly. “Oh, god, Jon, you must have been so confused when I kissed you.” He buried his face in his hands again. “I finally get a boyfriend, and two weeks later he’s an amnesiac and it’s the apocalypse. I always said the world would end before I would find someone, I just didn’t know it would be two weeks after…”

“Do you need a moment?” Jon said sympathetically. “Or you can tell me about it? I’m quite a good listener.”

“I can’t decide if this is surreal or terrible.”

Jon felt a little lost. It was quite possibly the most familiar emotion he had - knowing what was happening but not quite understanding, frantically consuming information about the world around him while his perception of himself was hidden behind a thick wall of static.

He didn’t know what to say to make this man feel better.

“Are you sure you don’t want to give a Statement?” Jon asked hopefully. Statements were most of what he knew, and the only context in which he interacted with humans.

“I’m not giving a fucking statement, Jon!” Martin snapped, and Jon cringed. Martin’s face immediately crumpled, in what Jon was forced to assume was guilt. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped. I’m just stressed - no, Jon, I shouldn’t have snapped. It’s just - Jon, the Statements are evil. They’re bad. You always knew - Jon, you have to restrain yourself. You can really hurt someone else. Do you understand?”

No, Jon didn’t understand. He didn’t understand Martin, he didn’t understand how to relate a ‘boyfriend’ to himself, and he didn’t know why Martin kept on trying to tell him that something good was bad. Statements were good. Jon knew in his gut that Jon was nothing but Statements: that he was fear, and fear was him, and that the world was fear. That Jon was the world, strung through a sack of meat. An Archive.

“Why are you always trying to make me feel bad,” Jon said lowly, and Martin shut up. He started at Jon with wide eyes, slightly alarmed. “For a boyfriend you really seem to hate me.”

“Jon, no. I love you. I’ve never hated you, not even - I don’t think I’m capable of hating you, do you get that?” Martin’s expression softened a little, but something about it was still deeply sad. “This is a problem, but we can fix it. We just have to work together. We’ve gotten through everything, we can get through - the apocalypse and this amnesia and everything. We can do it, Jon, we just have to stick together.”

Something mysterious swirled in Jon’s chest, yet another of the frustrating emotions he just didn’t understand. It felt quite bad. “There’s nothing to fix.”

They sat there in silence, Martin sitting at the edge of the bed with his face in his hands and kneading his forehead gently. He looked tired, and defeated. Jon just sat in the little chair at the little stand, flipping aimlessly through a newspaper that held no new information at all, lost and confused.

Of course, there was one thing Jon did know. He stared curiously at Martin, whose shoulders were shaking a little. “Are you going to cry again? I haven’t even done anything to you.”

“People cry even when you haven’t hurt them, Jon,” Martin said dully into his hands.

For some reason, this made Jon oddly anxious. “Why else do people cry? I don’t understand why people are always crying. All they do is cry and scream or wail or -” Jon threw a hand out, irritated, “ - try to put themselves out of their misery, or whatever. But nothing’s happening to you and I haven’t asked you a single question. Why do humans cry all the time?”

“When we are very, very sad, Jon,” Martin said quietly. “That’s why we cry.”

Jon stared at him. Martin wiped his eyes a little, unbending, and stared at Jon very firmly. His expression was creased in unhappiness, but there was something very firm in the set of his mouth and chin. As if what he was doing was very difficult, but he chose to do it anyway. Had Jon ever done that? Did he remember?

He stood up, and Jon cautiously leaned back in his chair as Martin walked up to him. But he just knelt instead, gently taking Jon’s hand and squeezing it tight. He met Jon’s eyes fiercely, now a little lower than him, and Jon felt something strange writhe in his chest.

What was this feeling? He had never felt it before. It was…

“I promised Jon. For better or for worse.” The corners of his mouth twinged. “Well, not that particular promise, but we wanted...anyway. I’ll promise to you, here. I am here to help you. I know it’s scary. I know you may not want it. But that’s when we need it most, okay? I know you’re lost and confused. I’m not going to push you.” He faltered, just a little, and looked away. “Maybe this is for the best. Maybe you - maybe you needed this. Even if it meant that I -”

“Meant that you what?”

Martin looked back at Jon, smiling weakly. “Don’t worry about it. But I’m not going to push you to rem - to act in a way that you don’t feel is right. I just need you to listen to me and take my thoughts into consideration, alright?”

“I still need to eat,” Jon said sulkily. “You can’t stop me doing that.”

“Yes,” Martin said, face curiously blank. “I can’t stop you.”

“Good!” Jon brightened. “I suppose having a human around would be useful. There’s lots of things around I just don’t understand. You can explain things.” In a hit of magnaminty, Jon proclaimed, “And I’ll make sure that nothing eats you. That’s a real tit for that.”

“Looking forward to it,” Martin said, already seeming a little exhausted.

“Then it’s settled.” Jon squeezed Martin’s hand back and, on impulse, leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. Martin startled a little but didn’t pull away. It was nice, his stubble all scratchy and soft. “You’re the nicest person I’ve ever met, Martin.”

“That was always true,” Martin teased - teased! He stood up, and Jon stood up with him. He didn’t let go of the hand, strangely attached to its warmth and pressure. When Martin faltered a little, Jon squeezed his hand even tighter. It made Jon feel better, so maybe it would help Martin. That was a nice thought: that Jon could make someone feel better, instead of worse. “You haven’t asked about yourself at all.”

But Jon just shrugged. “I highly doubt I - or Jonathan Sims, whatever - had any loved ones. It’s a surprise you even exist, honestly.”

Martin opened his mouth, then closed it. “People cared,” he said weakly.

“Lie,” Jon said severely. “Don’t lie to me, I can tell and it’s unbecoming.” But Jon was nice, and he decided to let the lie go. This time. If there was one thing Jon couldn’t abide it was chronic liars, but Martin didn’t seem the sort. “That’s all unimportant, now. We should move forward. There’s a lot of apocalypse to see, and I want to see the Flesh’s Corpse Flowers for myself. I hear that they’re made out of real -”

“I had an idea, actually,” Martin said, stopping Jon short. He looked like he strongly wanted to press the ‘loved ones’ thing, but he was refraining. Good. People shouldn’t ask him invasive questions. “I can see the tower in the distance. It has to be in London, right? And that has to be the epicenter of this. I wouldn’t have gone by myself, but with you here maybe we can find Jonah Magnus and -”

Jon didn’t know what stopped Martin short. Maybe it was the look on Jon’s face. He didn’t know what the look was, and he didn’t bother to see. All he knew was the horror in his chest, so deep and overwhelming he felt as if he could drown in it. A strange, foreign feeling, that was as familiar to him as his own body. Something that, in another person, Jon would have labelled as terror.

“ - or we don’t have to,” Martin said softly. “Why don’t we try to find the others, then? Regroup. I’m worried sick about them. You can find anyone in this world, right? Can you dig up a few humans for me? They’re our frie - well, we’re close, anyway.”

That was much easier. Although Jon wasn’t sure how he felt about more humans, it would definitely be interesting. There had to be good stories from any of Martin’s friends - maybe even people who Jonathan Sims had known. “I can do that no problem. Names?”

“Uh.” Martin thought hard. “Basira Hussain, I think, but she can take care of herself. We should probably find Georgie and Melanie first, they have to be vulnerable. What with Melanie’s - yeah, we need to make sure she’s okay. Georgina Barker and Melanie King, then?”

Sounded easy enough. Jon did the only familiar thing and let his eyes open, letting his unkept hair float gently up. Jon Looked, and Saw -

“Don’t make people up,” Jon said scornfully, a little embarrassed. “Give me a real person now, please.”

Martin gaped. “They’re real, I swear! Are they dead, or -”

“No, I’d know if they were dead. They just...don’t exist?” Jon fought the urge to pout. “I hate it when people don’t exist.”

“...do they not exist or can you just not see them?”

“What’s the difference?” Jon asked blankly, and Martin shrugged in concession of the point. “Anyone else?”

“Okay, Mr. Apocalypse Google,” Martin teased lightly, and Jon surreptitiously downloaded what a ‘Google’ was. Ah! It was funny! But what was the internet? “Basira Hussain, then? You said that the last you saw of her, she was trying to find Daisy - or what was left of Daisy.” Martin’s mouth twisted unhappily. “If Daisy hadn’t gotten to her…”

Jon Looked again, and this time he got an easy answer fed into his mind. It was a great answer too, and made Jon grin in excitement. “Basira Hussain’s fighting her way through Manchester, but I have a bead on Daisy Tonner. Fantastic! She’s a few hours away!”

“She’s what!” Martin screeched. “Oh my god, she’s going to eat us!”

“Don’t be silly, I’d eat her first.” But Jon was bouncing on his heels in excitement. This woman wasn’t a human - she was a monster, a monster who knew him, and Jon couldn’t wait to find somebody who would understand what it’s like. “Let’s go, we have to catch up!”

“Look, I know you two were friends, but she is quite literally probably a giant Hunt monster right now - alright, alright, coming!”

Jon bolted out the door, Martin hot on his heels, and there was a strange lightness in his chest that hadn’t been there before.

Jon didn’t know what or who he was - if his gut was right, and he was a simulacrum of fear assembled by Jonah Magnus, or if Martin was right, and he was a lost man without a past who had doomed the future. Maybe it was both, or neither, or something far more complicated in between. Maybe it was too complicated to Know or See, and too big to understand. Maybe it was something Jon had to figure out for himself.

Martin would help. And if he didn’t help, then it probably wasn’t a real loss. He seemed to be going through something himself, which was none of Jon’s business. Even if he was the only person in the world who had ever seemed to care about Jonathan Sims.

Well. Everyone was disappointed eventually. Jon had gotten over his own early. Martin would realize, sooner or later. That Jon was a monster, who did not not know how to receive or give love, and that he would never be able to give Martin the human he loved back.

Jon had the feeling that a lot of people had realized that about Jonathan Sims.

#my writing #like seriously though jon had spent three years in the story wondering if he had started the apocalypse on purpose and martin just #shuts that shit down #am I an evil simulcrum of fear created by jonah magnus?#no you're my boyfriend shut up #am I human or monster - who cares look at this dumb couch #anyway one must assume that in this au of an au there's hilarious trio hijinks with jon martin and daisy rampaging their way through the uk

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wouldpollyapprove · 4 years

Text

I’m Not Like Her: Part 2

Summary: Y/n never thought she’d take a job as a barmaid, but she had to do what she had to do. Fleeing from a mob in Aberdeen, she was willing to do anything to live a peaceful life. And if that meant working for the Shelby’s then so be it. Life was normal until the mob decided to make an appearance in Birmingham, leading Tommy start to believe Y/n wasn’t exactly who she said she was.

Thomas Shelby x reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: language, violence, angst

A/N: I’m considering doing a third part for this, I don’t know why. I’m not sure what I would do but that’s only if you guys want me to. I hope to have a few headcanons out this week, so be looking for those. And I’ll be closing requests sometime this week.

Part One

Masterlist

God only knows how long Y/n sat in misery, tears staining her cheeks. No one cared to look down the alleyway to see a teary-eyed girl, crumpled against between the buildings. They’d all seen it before. For one reason or another, those on the street had caught girls with red puffy eyes, using the alley to shield them from the world. So, there Y/n sat, the only one feeling sorry for her was herself. No one cared about her problems, they all had their own.

The waterworks eventually stopped, their creator dehydrated and tired, and Y/n made her way home, tired of the filth surrounding her. The sun was starting to set and wind blew violently through the streets, a warning of an upcoming storm. She gave no mind to the weather, eyes to the ground, as the events of the last 24 hours played on repeat in her head. Looking back, there was little that could’ve been done to prevent any of it. If she’d been honest from the beginning about her life in Scotland, Tommy wouldn’t trust her just as he didn’t at that moment. Nothing could save her from that outcome. Truth nor lies could bring her peace.

Rain pounded the ground before she was halfway home. Those still on the street set a quicker pace, trying to keep from getting soaked, using newspapers and coats to shield themselves. Not Y/n, though. No, she let the water drowned out her surroundings, soaking her hair and clothes. There was no reason to rush home as it was.

Even miserable, she couldn’t help but smile when a long-forgotten memory resurfaced.

It was years ago, in Aberdeen, right after Roger had taken over his father’s company and all his time was spent at his office. The man had finally been able to find time to escape the clutches of business and out of the blue took Y/n on a picnic. When he wanted, Roger could be a romantic, a side few got to see, it was his best side. Up a hill, they went, near a pond surrounded by willows. The two watched ducks swim between reeds as they munched on their food until rain fell from the dangerously dark clouds above.

A shriek left Y/n’s lips when it started to come down in buckets. “We’ll never make it to the car unscathed,” she shouted and tried to pick up their plates.

Roger was already on his feet, love in his eyes. “Then how ‘bout ya dance with me?” A hand extended to his partner.

“I’d love to.” A bright smile on her lips as she took his hand, using him to help her up.

Only fools in love would dance in the rain, but neither cared how foolish they looked. Lovers rarely cared about anything but each other, the title of fool never crossed their mind. They danced, without music, to the beat of the rain. In that moment, they were the only two in the world, their problems washed away in the rain that.

If only there was someone to dance with her on the streets of Small Heath. Take away her pain and love her like a fool. Spin her around, step to the memory of any waltz that came to mind. But all alone she stood, soaked to the bone, as she trudged home. There was no love in this rainstorm, only misery.

In the safety of her home, Y/n didn’t bother to rid herself of her wet clothes. They were like a second skin at that point. She’s lost the chill feeling that set in during rain, numb to everything but her aching heart. Like a lost dog, she wandered around the house, seeking nothing in particular. Walking through the kitchen, she opened the fridge, nothing caught her eyes so she shut the door. In the parlor, all the books had already been read and there was never anything interesting on the radio. Her bedroom held nothing of interest. She wasn’t tired, didn’t want to change her clothes, didn’t want to do anything. She couldn’t sit in fear that her sorrows would drown her.

Like a ghost, she was on a loop, cycling through the three rooms. Each time, hoping something would catch her eye, pull her in. Nothing ever did.

And then there came a bang at the door.

Violent and demanding, again and again someone hit the wood. That was enough to pull her out of the trance she’d been in. Eyes wide in fear, Y/n stood in the threshold between the kitchen and parlor, uncertain if she should approach the door. First, she assumed it was merely thunder that struck the street outside, but it didn’t let up. Bang after bang, it continued. It was no thunder. It was a person, she had concluded, but there were no voices, no traces of who could be on the other side. She was certain that if it was someone she knew they would make themselves known.

Before she could make a move, a brutal force caused the door to swing open, hitting the wall on the other side. A scream was lodged in her throat as her eyes locked with the man who stood where the door had been. Tall and muscular, his green eyes glowed in rage. A smile that could have been friendly in a different light made him look like a predator after capturing its prey. Swallowing down her scream, Y/n realized how much like prey she looked. Cornered, small, pale, alone.

The perfect meal.

“No wonder Roger would kill for you,” the man snickered, eyes scanning her body. A shaky breath parted her lips, wishing she could curl up in a ball. The stranger’s intent was unclear, but she knew it wasn’t friendly.

Hands shaking, Y/n clasped them together, intertwining her fingers. “Whatever Roger did, it’s doesn’t involve me.” The words, meant to be confident and strong, came out meek and earned a laugh from her intruder.

He moved from the door, taking in his new surrounding. “I don’t believe that’s how that works, darling.” In the blink of an eye, he stood before her. Damn his long legs. Y/n sucked in a breath, urging her body to move, react. It failed her, doing nothing. “Roger will know better next time.” A rough hand grasped her jaw and pulled her close, a bruise already forming from the force. “And he will not forget this.”

Neither would Y/n when the man walked out the door, his name never learned, as her body shook, blood running down her cheek. Dazed, she made her way to the bathroom. A glance at the mirror in front of her, she saw the bruises that littered her skin from being thrown around the room, cuts from knives or rings. Y/n was no helpless girl, Roger taught her how to defend herself, but she was no match for the giant that had done all that. She was a mouse compared to that man.

There was no winning that fight.

Y/n didn’t tell Roger, didn’t bother calling picking up the phone. She cleaned herself up, wiping the dry blood from her damaged skin, and threw her torn clothes in the corner of the bathroom. It was better to pretend the assault had never happened than let Roger back into her life. Seeing him once for a few fleeting moments was good enough for her. There was no need to give him an excuse to stay around.

So, for a few days, Y/n stayed holed up in her apartment. There was enough food in the fridge to last her a while and enough money saved up to last her a few month’s rent. There was no need to search for a job when she looked like the apples at the fruit stand people never bought.

Peace, or what was closest to it, settled over her as Y/n spent her time baking and reading. Anything to distract her. But that couldn’t last, now could it? Not when the telephone in the parlor rang and she foolishly picked it up.

“Hello.”

“You need to come pick up your paycheck,” Harry told her, no kindness in his voice. Tommy clearly hadn’t kept his mouth shut about what he thought she was. A backstabber.

She sighed and played with the hem of her apron. “Can’t someone drop it off?” Her question was answered with a ‘no’. “Why not?”

“Tommy said you have to pick it up yourself.”

The line fell silent before another word could be said. Y/n groaned at the thought of walking through those pub doors again. She was smart enough to know that the whole Shelby family would probably be there to greet her, shove money in her hands, and tell her get the fuck out of Birmingham.

“What a fucking week,” she muttered as a single tear rolled down her cheek. She didn’t want to leave. Not because of some misunderstanding.

Clean clothes paired with freshly done hair, Y/n left her house to retrieve her paycheck. The walk was stressful, she wore a hat to conceal what her hair couldn’t, but she feared it wasn’t enough. There were no prying eyes, but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel watched, ashamed from even stepping out the front door.

Finally upon her destination, she stared at the doors. A lamb to the slaughter, that’s what she felt like. She’d been kicked one too many times while down to feel like a lion. Like any animal that could stand upon another in victory. She was the field the mouse that ran from the hawk. The fly that flew straight into the spider’s web. The lamb that couldn’t escape slaughter. With all the courage she could muster, that being an ounce, Y/n took a deep breath and entered the pub, trying to forget about the lamb.

All conversations died when she stepped foot in the room, all eyes turned to her. There was no way she could meet anyone’s eyes, not when she knew what they thought of her. Tommy was against the bar, more focused on his drink than her, while his family threw looks of disgust at her. Not that she blamed any of them.

“I’m here for my paycheck.”

Polly rolled her eyes from where she sat at a booth with Esme. “Don’t know why you’d want to step foot in here now that we know what you are.”

“I asked her here, Pol,” Tommy told his aunt as he lite a cigarette. That earned him a groan from her, she was tired of his behavior when it came to women.

“I just want my paycheck,” she announced to the room. “Give it to me and I’ll leave. You’ll never have to-”

“Why?” Tommy interrupted her.

“Why what?”

“Why’d you do it? Why’d you talk to Roger?”

It was hard to bite back her laughter, a bit of it spilling between her teeth and out her lips. “He talked to me, Tommy, not that you cared to ask though. Him and I used to be something, but that was a long time ago. But I guess I don’t owe you any explanation as to why I was talking with him because you never cared to ask before,” she sneered and brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

Though it was a small piece, it was enough to expose a bruised patch of skin on her jaw and upper cheek. Once full of disgust, everyone’s eyes softened. Perhaps it was a mixture of her bitter words and her damaged appearance, but it shifted the mood of the room.

Tommy’s blue orbs, once ice-cold, warmed with concern. He stepped towards her out of instinct, “Who did this to you?” he asked, hand hovering by her cheek. He was desperate to touch her, feel her warm skin, and melt into her, but fear of rejection kept him from her.

She shrugged, the shame from the walk over boiled away from anger. “Doesn’t matter,” Y/n waved the question off. “It’s not your problem anymore.”

“Like hell it isn’t!” He threw his arms in the air, any thought of his family being in the room vanished. “Who did this?” He demanded.

Y/n couldn’t meet his eyes, instead, taking in the pub’s walls she’d looked at almost every day. They hadn’t changed, but they didn’t have eyes that could gaze into the soul, nor lips that could crush the heart. Walls, that’s all they were. Nothing but wood, nails, and paint. They could do no harm.

Perhaps the shame hadn’t gone away.

It sat dormant for a while as she felt like a lion, but once again she had become the mouse. The answer wasn’t one to fear, it was rather simple actually, but that wasn’t what kept it from her tongue. More than anything, she feared Tommy’s reaction. With the flip of a switch he could become a violent monster and she didn’t want to see that. She didn’t want to know the things he would do, the things he was capable of.

“Y/n,” his voice soft like honey pulled her gaze to him. She said nothing as his arms wrapped around her in an embrace. It was only minutes ago that he wanted nothing to do with her. “I should’ve talked to you instead of sent you away,” he whispered in her ear, hand rubbing her back. “I’m sorry for that. Now, please-” Tommy pulled away to see her face, the bruise on her jaw along with other small cuts clearly visible. “-tell me who did this?”

Not one for displays of affections, Y/n wanted to relish in the embrace for as long as she could. There was no telling when the man would do something like that again. But she knew that answer had to be given. “Someone Roger fucked over,” she muttered. “I don’t know his name, but none of that matters.”

A gentle finger lifted her chin, softer than the one that’d bruised her days before. “It does matter. Now, let’s get you a cup of tea and we’ll talk like we should have in the first place.”

*~~*~~*

Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist.

Regular Taglist: @amirahiddleston @haphazardhufflepuff @woahitslucyylu @mzcrazy2 @lovemissyhoneybee @multi-fandom-iimagines @tarafaithe @jenepleurepasbaby @fernweh-fangirl @the-anxious-youth @theshelbyclan @wtfdanness @chloeforde @futuristicslimemongerbanana @lucillethings @nemesis729

Thomas Shelby Taglist: @captivatedbycillianmurphy

#the peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinder fanfic #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagines #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shleby imagines #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader

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wolveria · 4 years

Text

Blue Moon - Chapter 1

Pairing: Android werewolf!Nines x Reader

Summary: It was Halloween night when you stumbled across the android that looked more monster than machine. Damaged and alone, you didn't have the heart to leave him behind.

You'd always had a weakness for strays.

Prompt: Inspired by art!

Warnings: Rated E, eventual smut, Zlatko experimentation, monster romance

AO3

You pulled your coat closer in a useless attempt to ward off the cold. Winter had decided to make an appearance early this year as snow laid on the ground, and you lamented over the fact you’d chosen to walk home instead of take a taxi. The coffee shop was only a couple blocks away from your apartment, but it felt like a cross country trek as your breath billowed out of your mouth.

The wind rustled through the trees and you shuddered again. The park you’d taken a shortcut through was a good size, and you could no longer see the streetlights that signaled civilization was near.

Why had you decided to do this, again? And on Halloween night? Not that you believed in the paranormal or anything—

You dropped your nearly-empty coffee cup, the last drops spilled and forgotten on the footpath. A pair of glowing blue eyes stared out at you from the underbrush around the base of a tree.

Before you could think to scream, a low whine came from the bush. You placed your hand over your heart and let out a long breath, smiling faintly. It was just a dog, that was all. And the light from the full moon must be making its eyes glow like that. Yes, that’s all it was.

“It’s all right,” you said, offering your hand in what you hoped was a friendly manner, praying it didn’t have rabies. “Come here, boy.”

There was a low thudding noise accompanied by the brush moving. A sad, fluffy tail thumping against the ground.

You gave a sympathetic “awwww” and lightly patted your thighs, hoping to coax it out of its hiding place.

“You poor thing. Are you cold? I bet you’re hungry. Come here, sweetie, let’s get you some… food…”

Your voice trailed off as the glowing pair of blue eyes rose, higher and higher—definitely not at canine level—before it stepped out of the shadows.

It was huge, or at least seemed that way when you’d been expecting a large dog at most. Standing on two legs, it reached over six feet easily, not including the wolfish ears that stuck up from its head. With blue-black fur, sharp nails and a hint of teeth peeking out from its lips, you would have never guessed it was an android if not for the spinning yellow ring at its temple.

The android was also completely naked, not a stitch of clothing to be seen, and you quickly snapped your eyes back up to its face, face flushing at the sheer size of what you’d seen.

It—he took a hesitant step toward you, and if you’d had any of your senses left, you would have run. Android or not, you were fairly certain you were about to be murdered and eaten, and not necessarily in that order.

But your joints were locked, your limbs frozen, and all you could do was watch as the android bent down and wrapped a clawed hand carefully around your discarded coffee cup. Stepping directly in front of you, he slowly held the cup out, his ears laid flat as if afraid you were going to whack him with a rolled up newspaper.

You glanced from face to his outstretched hand. That was when you caught sight of the gash across his ribcage, the exposed internal circuits glittering in the dark.

You’d always had a soft spot for injured animals. And while he might not be an animal, per se, it was close enough that you gently took the coffee cup and gave him a soft thank you.

His ears perked and his tail wagged hopefully as he retracted his hand. He continued the slow wag of his tail as he stared at you expectantly. It took you a minute to realize what he was waiting for. He was, after all, an android, and a canine-like one at that.

He was waiting for orders.

“Are you lost?” you asked. Was he even programmed to talk? “Where do you live? Do you need help getting back home?”

You almost asked who his owner was, but it didn’t feel right. You suspected you’d made the right decision when the question had him folding his ears back, his floofy tail dipping towards the ground.

“Uh, that’s okay.” You tried you best at a soothing smile. “The police station isn’t far from here. I can take you there—“

It was precisely the wrong thing to say; his LED went red and he winced as if you’d slapped him. You weren’t at all prepared for him to open his mouth, and a raspy, rough voice to come out.

“No. Please. Not there.”

You gawked up at him, hardly believing what you’d heard with your own ears, but the android could definitely talk. As strange as he looked, he was capable of communicating his wants.

…and you’d heard rumors about the kinds of androids that wanted.

Carefully you glanced around, but no one else had come across the two of you. It was lucky it was Halloween when most people would be trick-or-treating or handing out candy; the last thing you needed was to be caught in the middle of the night, in a park, with a strange, naked android.

“Okay. No police station.” You rubbed at your arms as you glanced him over, immediately regretting it as your sight dipped below his belly button. Looking away resolutely, you offered, “Why don’t you come back to my place, just for tonight? Get you some clothes and then… we can have a talk.”

Finally, you had said the right thing. His ears went all perky and his tail wagged its fastest yet, but most of all, his LED went blue for the first time. It was the same shade as his glowing eyes.

You gulped. This was such a fucking bad idea.

“I would like that,” he said, voice all soft and gentle. And just like that, you were a goner. No turning back now.

“Come on,” you sighed, stepping around him to continue in the direction of your apartment. It was a bit silly still hanging onto the empty coffee cup, but all you could focus on was the near-silent footfalls behind you as you tried to come up with the best way to sneak a naked android werewolf into your apartment.

***

As it turned out, dealing with the android was a lot less surreal when he had clothes on, even if it was a pair of sweatpants and a tight sweater that barely fit him. You’d have to order some clothes for him tomorrow

If he even wanted to hang around that long. You were under no illusion that if he wanted to leave, you wouldn’t be able to stop him, but for now he seemed content to stay.

The android was currently standing in your living room, fussing with the hem of the sweater that barely covered his waistline. You covered your mouth with your fingers in a poor attempt to hide a smile. Now that you were confident he wasn’t going to eat you, the android was actually quite adorable. You’d even cut out a hole in the back of the pants for him to pull his tail through.

You plopped down onto the couch and padded the cushion next to you. It had been a long time since you’d had a houseguest, and it said a lot about your state of loneliness that you were excited over having a strange android for company.

Said android stared at you for a moment before perching, quite primly, at the other end of the couch. The fact he had to move his tail out of the way before he sat down ruined the composed image he was trying to convey.

He really was very odd, and not just because of all the wolfy bits. This android seemed very much alive, a fact that should have had you picking up the phone to call the authorities. But… you didn’t.

Instead, you bombarded him with questions. What was his name? Where did he come from? Was he a custom model? How had he been injured? The wound looked ghastly, but he hardly noticed it. You made a mental note to add Thirium and android chassis repair sealant to the shopping list. You’d never owned an android before, but you’d always been fascinated with them and knew the basics of what they needed.

“RK900,” was his answer to your first question. He skipped over to the third. “I am… I was a prototype created by CyberLife to assist law enforcement. It would be safer for you if I said nothing further.”

Unable to imagine an android like this working with the police, you guessed he’d looked different, before. More like a standard android instead of one so altered he was nearly unrecognizable.

“Okay, I won’t pry,” you said, amassing all your willpower not to assault him with more questions, the biggest one being why do you look like something out of my deepest, darkest, most shameful wetdream? Yes, you were definitely not venturing into that territory.

Your next question was caught on a yawn, and you looked away as your face grew warm. He was just an android, why were you being so self-conscious about every little thing you did?

It could have been the way he’d watched you ever since you’d stumbled across him in the bushes: laser-like focus that never broke. It didn’t help that the sclera of his eyes were black, making the blue stand out even more.

Also, he didn’t blink. Like, ever.

“I’m gonna head to bed.” You thumbed over your shoulder toward the hallway. “Will you be all right out here? Do you need anything?”

“Yes,” he said. “And no.”

You were picking up on his mannerisms very quickly. He over-enunciated and spoke with perfect grammar. It was in direct contrast to the way his sharp nails toyed with the sweater, or the way his ears would swivel at sounds you barely noticed. At some points in the conversation, he would tilt his head at you in a way that was so dog-like, you had to keep fighting down the smiles. You’d definitely never met an android like this one before, even if he had looked perfectly human.

“I will be fine,” the RK900 added when you continued to stare. “I will rest and repair. I have neglected to enter stasis mode for… quite some time now.”

His eyes dropped to the carpet, demeanor evasive and uncomfortable. It took everything you had not to reach out and pet him on the head.

“I shouldn’t intrude in your personal space. I will be gone in the morning.”

And then you did reach out, placing your hand on his arm. He was solid and surprisingly warm under the fabric of the sweater.

He stared at your hand for a moment before slowly lifting his head to meet your eye. His expression was so… sad. You had no doubt it was authentic, and that you were right about what he was.

“Please, you don’t have to go.” Your voice was soft, ensuring it was a suggestion and not a command. “You’re more than welcome to stay. I want to help you. Will you let me do that?”

The ring on his temple was a solid yellow and you nearly pulled your hand back, but then it went blue and he gave a small nod. You sighed with relief and gave him a gentle pat before letting him go.

“Thank you.” You rose to your feet, stretching to get the kinks out of your shoulders. It was stressful bringing a wayward android home. “I’m just down the hall if you need me. See you in the morning.”

Before you made it to the hallway, you paused and half-turned.

“Do you have a name?”

He blinked up at your question.

“I mean, I know RK900 is your model number, but… you have a name, don’t you?”

His ears drooped. You were learning they were a better indicator of his thoughts than the color of his LED.

“No. CyberLife never gave me one.”

Of course they wouldn’t, you thought, not the first time you’d unhappy with the way androids were treated. CyberLife was by far the worst. Why would they care about any of their merchandise?

“Well, maybe you can come up with one.” You hoped he understood the things you weren’t saying aloud, that you understood what he really was beneath the strange exterior.

His ears perked up and his expression softened.

“That… would be nice.”

Before you could say anything to embarrass yourself, or worse, run over to him and give him a hug, you excused yourself to get ready for bed. Already your mind was going through a checklist of all the things you’d need to care for an android in the long-run, and that was being optimistic. The RK900 could still change his mind. There was still so much you didn’t know.

It wasn’t until you shut off the lights and stared at the ceiling that the implications of your actions truly hit you. You’d seen the news reports, read the independent websites that couldn’t be suppressed by CyberLife. There were androids out there, said to be “lethally malfunctioning,” that were disobeying and turning on their humans.

One of the most common signs to watch out for was mimicry of human emotions. Anger, was the main one, but there was also fear. And that was something you’d seen a lot of tonight shining out of the RK900’s eyes.

You weren’t just harboring an android that looked like a werewolf.

You were sheltering a deviant.

#nines x reader #rk900 x reader #detroit become human #werewolf nines #werewolf android nines #zlatko experiment nines #click on the artwork to see what he actually looks like #but this is still a great screenshot #my writing #my fanfiction

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call-me-rei · 3 years

Text

Chapter 7

I woke up the next morning to a pillow whacking me against the face. I groaned at the impact at first, then became angry. My eyes shot open and were faced with the shit-eating grin of my younger brother.

“The fuck?” I asked with a scowl. Mike kept the smile on his face from my doorway as he shrugged.

“You needed to wake up. It’s beach day!”

I rolled my eyes. “Seriously?”

He shrugged again. “Get up. We need to buy food and shit. Oh, and Mom’s home so there’s breakfast.”

I sighed as I leaned back onto my pillows. Mike had left quickly after his sentence which gave me some time wind down from getting attacked. I glanced to my left and saw the pillow Mike had thrown at me. It was his cherished memory foam pillow that he had begged our mom to buy for him. I was surprised that he’d chosen to throw that one at me, even more surprised that he’d hit me from the threshold of my bedroom door.

I decided not to dwell on it and sat up. I stretched my arms over my head to pop whatever needed to be popped then reached for my phone.

“Shit,” I groaned when I tapped on the screen. My phone had died overnight. I guess it wasn’t plugged in like I thought. I made sure it was connected to the outlet before getting out of bed and going to the bathroom. The smell of bacon wafted through the hallway and put a smile on my face as I walked across the hall to prepare for the day.

Sundays were always nice at our house because our parents didn’t work. They usually got some shopping done while Mike and I were asleep, but other than that we could all spend the day together. Mom would cook us a nice breakfast and Dad and I would play soccer in the backyard. Then at night we’d settle down with a family dinner and watch a movie. It was a welcomed contrast to our parents never being at home during the week.

“There’s our star athlete!” I blushed at my dad’s comment as I entered the kitchen. “Michael showed us some of the tape from last night. You were amazing!”

“Gracias papá.” Mom put a plate of hot food in front of me as I sat down next to Mike at the table.

“So is the team doing anything to celebrate?” she asked.

“Bonfire!” Mike answered excitedly. Our parents looked at each other and laughed.

I shook my head with a smirk. “It’s not the team, more like Mike and me and the guys, but we’re inviting the team too.”

Dad nodded in approval. “Sounds like fun. Tengan cuidado.”

“Sí papá,” Mike and I answered at the same time. Satisfied with our response, our parents started talking about having a little date night since their children had plans. Mike and I tuned it out and focused on eating. Or I did at least.

Mike nudged his elbow into my side as I was about to bite into my French toast. “We’re going shopping after this, right?” he whispered. Confused, I just nodded.

He gave me a sly smile before focusing on his food.

“Wait, why?” I asked, now curious about his intentions.

He just shrugged and kept his smile. I didn’t know what he was planning, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t like the outcome.

***

I pushed the shopping cart behind my brother. He was going down aisles tossing things into the metal basket on wheels. It was obvious that he didn’t care about what he was picking or how much it cost. I stopped him from getting some snacks that he’d never eaten before, knowing that he’d buy them then regret it.

We were going through the store getting snacks for the bonfire. I told Mike that it wasn’t necessary, but he said we’d need them. When I asked him why he just told me to trust him. I wanted to, but I knew better.

Mike always loved parties. We never hosted one at our house, but our friends did occasionally, and Mike was always there to help get things ready. I know it was because he wanted to figure out how much he could fuck things up without getting in trouble.

I watched as he put two huge bags of marshmallows in the cart. We already had an assortment of chips and paper plates. I wanted to question my brother once again, but I knew it would lead to nothing. He was the partier out of the two of us, so if he said we needed those items I’d go along with it.

“We need beer.”

I focused my attention on him. “Beer?” That was an item I didn’t think I could agree to.

“Beer. We should get beer.”

He’d said it like it was a fact. Like, “the sky is blue; the sun is bright. ‘We should get beer’.”

“Great, but neither of us are old enough to do that.”

I was going to turn eighteen in a couple weeks while Mike was still sixteen, going to be seventeen in December.

“Jaime’s brother is.” Jaime’s older brother, Javier, had turned twenty-one earlier in the month. He was always down to help us with some things, but I wasn’t sure he’d want to buy alcohol for a bunch of teenagers, especially since he wasn’t going to be hanging out with us.

“I don’t know…,” I said skeptically.

“Trust me,” was the response I received. With a devilish grin on his face Mike pulled out his phone and typed on the screen.

I sighed. I knew Mike was texting Jaime asking him to ask Javier for help. Of course, Jaime would agree because he was always down for making bad decisions. I would’ve texted Jaime and told him not to indulge Mike, but I had left my phone at home to charge. Sadly, that meant that Mike was in charge of telling our friends about his plans, no matter how bad they would become.

“He’s in.” I shook my head.

“I don’t believe it,” I mumbled.

“Lighten up, bro.” Mike patted me on the shoulder. “You’ll have even more fun tonight. Don’t be a buzzkill.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. Just don’t be dumb. I don’t wanna have you drive your drunk ass home.”

He smirked. “You’re gonna have to do that anyway. We do live together.”

***

We’d driven back home to get coolers for all of the drinks, tables for the setup of everything we bought, and to pick up my phone. Once I had it I sent a message to my teammates telling them about the bonfire. Mike was in such a hurry to leave that that quick text was all I was able to do before he made me drive to Jaime’s house.

Mom was nice enough to let us use her car since she and Dad planned on having their date night. Mike was excited to not have to call shotgun and to have me as designated driver. He planned on getting fucked up, as he put it, so I had to be the responsible one. Not that it was my party or anything.

We got to Jaime’s and picked up the alcohol. Javier had gotten us way more than just beer. There was also vodka, seltzers, gin, tequila, and mixers. It was more than any of us expected. “Have fun, just don’t get me in trouble,” he’d told us. Mike and Jaime just looked at each other like they were planning to go against everything Javier had said.

After leaving the Preciado household Mike and I went to the beach to set everything up. We found a spot where we wouldn’t bother other people and unloaded all of our supplies: the plastic tables, food and drinks, and a Bluetooth speaker. Jaime, Tony, and Curtis arrived a bit later with logs and newspapers for the bonfire.

By the time the wooden teepee was assembled the sun had begun to set and people were arriving. My teammates trickled in, then some other people from school. I had expected as much since we were out in the open and word always spread quickly at school. The word “party” was like an invitation for anyone to come through. No one really minded, as long as everyone was respectful of the space and other people then anyone was welcomed.

People entered the area and immediately grabbed the red cups on the tables and filled them with their drink of choice. Tony turned on the music and soon the party was in full swing. The soccer team members toasted to yesterday’s game and to me for the winning goal. Then everyone went off and did their own thing. There was some dancing, some mingling, but mostly drinking.

Time went on and the party went on and got rowdier. A lot of us went into the ocean and either swam or played chicken. There was a game of truth or dare going on somewhere that crossed with seven minutes in heaven. I knew that that game would lead to someone fucking in the sand.

Javier had gotten us enough alcohol that most of the people at the party were borderline drunk or buzzed. I felt kind of lame being one of the only sober ones there, but someone had to look out for my brother and friends, who by the way were almost too far gone to know where they were. At first I had been talking to them and some of my teammates, then they went off to do whatever. Next thing I knew they were taking bets on how many shots they could handle. Once that part of their night was done, they moved on to playing beer pong.

I could only watch from the sidelines with a bottle of water in hand. I didn’t want to be a buzzkill, but I couldn’t get too out of it; I needed to be the responsible one. I only hoped that the drunk people I would be driving home wouldn’t get on my nerves too much at the end of the night.

But let’s face it, they would.

Mike and Jaime would get into a stupid argument about something they wouldn’t remember when they sobered up, but it would be so important that they’d be yelling all the way back home. Then eventually they’d tire themselves out and end up apologizing and hugging before one of them would say something stupid to make the other start a new fight. Then they’d go around in circles until I dragged them out of the car and forced them into their home.

I hated that I would have to go through that exact scenario again.

I watched as a ball landed in a cup on Mike’s side of the table. He downed the contents without hesitation and screamed with pride.

Yeah, he’d be too far gone by the end of this party. And I’d have to carry him to his room while trying not to wake our parents up. They’d be pissed if they saw him the way he was at that moment.

I tried not to think about it and went to sit with Curtis and Tony. Since they had driven themselves to the party they weren’t interested in getting shitfaced. Maybe I could convince one of them to take Jaime home so I could avoid an argument in my car. It was worth a shot.

“You guys having fun?” I asked as I sat next to Curtis. He hummed before taking a sip of whatever was in his red cup.

“It looks like a lot more fun is happening over there.” I looked toward where he was pointing. Sure enough, there was a group of people around the table of drinks. They had their own cooler and were pouring various bottles of alcohol into it. By the looks of it they were making a very potent jungle juice.

“Five bucks that Mike and Jaime are gonna compete to see who chugs it the fastest.” I shook my head at Tony, not wanting to acknowledge that he was right and that my brother and one of my best friends would actually do something like that.

“I don’t think there’s a reason to bet anymore,” I said. The guys looked back at the scene and sure enough, Mike and Jaime were racing to chug the jungle juice. I would’ve liked to say that Jaime won that one, but really, there were no winners there.

I saw Mike say something to Jaime before he stumbled over to the three of us.

“Vic, I think I’m drunk.”

I nodded. “I think you are too. Here.” I handed him my water bottle and gestured for him to sit in the sand. He did and silently drank from the bottle. Sad to say that that was the calmest he’d been all night.

With my brother finally taking a break I was able to relax a bit. I took the opportunity to check my phone since I’d been so busy earlier. I knew I had a couple of notifications from social media apps and I wanted to clear those. Unread notifications bothered me to no end.

I checked Twitter and Instagram then posted a story of the guys and I and the party. Even if I wasn’t a major player in it, I still wanted to commemorate the night.

Once I posted the story I left the app and opened Facebook Messenger. I assumed the notification I had received was from a friend asking about the party; I was about to open it then immediately close the app. That was until I saw his name.

Kellin’s name was bolded with a blue dot at the end, indicating that he had sent me a message. A mixture of emotions clouded my brain. I didn’t know whether to be excited that he was talking to me again or nervous that he was talking to me again.

I eventually settled on scared. I opened the message and felt scared. Panic coursed through me as I read and reread the four words he’d sent.

JAN 27, 10:24 PM I want to die.

Over and over those words ran through my mind. That message had been sent almost twenty-four hours before. And I abandoned him. Fear mixed with dread and regret and self-loathing. How could I let him down like that? Why couldn’t I have been there for him?

Twenty-four hours was more than enough time for him to have hurt himself. And if he did because I didn’t answer when he needed me, I would never forgive myself. I needed to know if he was okay, so I sent him another message.

Are you ok??

But he wasn’t even online when I sent it, and he wasn’t online for five minutes after. In fact, it showed that he hadn’t been active since he sent me that message the night before.

Maybe he didn’t get on Facebook daily, or maybe he was just busy like I had been. Or maybe…

“Vic?”

Tony’s voice seemed far away with the thoughts in my brain screaming at me, telling me that I hadn’t kept Kellin from doing something he couldn’t take back.

“Dude, what’s wrong?”

I absentmindedly shook my head and stood up. I needed space to think and process so I walked farther away from the party and took a few steps into the ocean. An idea to calm myself popped into my head; it seemed as good as any. So without a second thought I pressed the phone icon at the top of our conversation and put my device to my ear, hoping to hear his voice on the other line.

#Pen Pal #Vic Fuentes #Kellin Quinn #Kellic #Kellic fanfiction #Kellic fanfic #Fanfiction #Fanfic

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girlofmanyfandoms · 4 years

Text

Advocates

A/n: So, I feel bad for not posting lately, here’s my AU where I take a slightly different take on the Keeper of the Lost Cities series. A few changes that I’m trying to make: more friendship-based, no love triangle, probably more gay, more racially diverse cast (without any harmful stereotypes). I’ll try to stay true to each character’s personality!

I’ll also take this time to say there’s stuff I haven’t released yet, so tell me if you want me to release those!

Disclaimer: This is in no way hating on Shannon’s series, I just wanna see where the story would go if we took a slightly different approach!

Warnings: I didn’t edit this at all-

Word count: 2868

Tag list: @everyonehasthoughts @imaramennoodle @bookwyrminspiration @holesinmyfalseconfidence @percabetn @an-absolute-travesty @linhammon-roll-bromance101 @linhamon-roll @holesinmyfalseconfidence @linhamon2 @a-lonely-tatertot @loverofallthingssmart

Let me know if you want to be added or if I forgot to tag you!

“Uh, no boys, she’s sitting with me.”

Jensi raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with her sitting here, Marella?”

“Nothing! I just need to pull her to the side for some girl talk.” Marella pulled Sophie’s sleeve, navigating across the cafeteria to an empty booth in the corner. Sitting down and adjusting herself, she extended a hand. “Marella Redek. No nicknames. I know the ins and outs of everything around here.”

“Sophie Foster,” Sophie introduced, shaking her hand, though her response came out as a murmur. She brushed her hair out of her face, trying to shrink as small as possible. “But I’m sure you knew that.”

Marella nodded. “You must’ve caused the Council a lot of trouble if you’ve gotten your way into Level Two right after being with humans. What was it like, by the way?”

“Pretty normal, I guess. Well, not for me, I was a highschool senior at 12, and my parents wanted me to attend community college instead of an Ivy League. Even the newspapers were talking about it, and that ticked my parents off big time.”

“What?”

“I know, crazy, right?” Sophie started digging into her lunch. “Why would the news choose a story about a child over actual breaking news?”

“No, I meant those words you used. A high school, college, a new paper? What do they mean?”

“Oh, that’s right! Those are more human terms, sorry,” Sophie apologized. “There are levels of human school: Preschool, which is usually ages 1 to 4, elementary school is from ages 5 to 10, middle school is ages 11 to 13, high school is ages 14 to 17, and college is at least four years, and gives you the certification you need to get a good paying job. Newspapers are just mini books made completely of paper that tell you what’s going on in the world.”

“Oh,” Marella said, looking off into the distance. “I guess I never really thought that human school would be so different from Foxfire. We just have these levels, and then the elite levels. What was your human family like?”

Sophie tugged out an eyelash, which didn’t go unnoticed on Marella’s end. “U-um-“

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be pushing you so much on your first day. I should be helping you adjust.” She toyed with her food. “So, how’s our world been for you so far?”

“A little overwhelming,” Sophie admitted. “I don’t feel half as glamorous as anything around me. We don’t exactly have crystal houses and fancy ball gowns in San Diego.”

“You don’t?” Marella shook her head vigorously. “Right. Sorry. Let’s get back on track. Anything you think you’ll need to know that I can help you with?”

Sophie clutched her knees, now rolled up into a ball. This Marella girl was a bit intense at first, but maybe she wasn’t so bad. After all, she had saved her from sitting with some yes-boys. The declared leader of them seemed friendly, but a little too hyper. No, she decided, Marella wasn’t half bad. “I don’t know. Anything really, you know best.”

“Alright, then. This place is sort of a maze, try to find someone with a similar schedule to you so you can walk together until you know your way around. You know Stina Heks?”

Sophie shivered and nodded, thinking back to seeing her raging through the halls screaming about someone making her bald. She could’ve sworn she heard her say “Disney,” too.

“Stay away from her. Stereotypical bully, not afraid of fighting dirty. The Vackers, Keefe Sencen, and their little bubble are all the buzz. They’re pretty nice, and Sencen’s a bit of a flirt, but if you don’t like attention, maybe steer clear from them.”

Sophie let out a bitter laugh. “Easier said than done. The Vackers are the ones who found me. Fitz brought me here, Alden sent him out to find me, and Della helped me get ready for Foxfire.” Sophie paused to pull out another eyelash. “I don’t think Biana likes me much.

Marella’s eyes widened in shock as she leaned back and blew out a breath.

“Is that bad?” Sophie was panicking a bit now. What had she screwed up now?

“Well, it’s not good for your social status, that’s for sure.” Marella started slicing her food, which resembled Jello. “If you’re on her bad side, you’ll want to stay away from Maruca, too. They’re best friends.”

“Great,” Sophie sighed. One day in and she already had a long list of people to avoid. “Anything else I should know about?”

“Oh, yeah, but I’ll stick to school stuff. Your most difficult subjects are gonna be Elementalism and Alchemy.”

“I can help with that,” a boy called, sliding next to Sophie in the booth and placing his tray down. “Dex Dizznee, by the way.”

“Sophie Foster.” She grinned a bit. Edaline had gone without her to the apothecary and mentioned the “Disneys.” This must’ve been who Stina was shouting at. “I saw what you did to Stina earlier. Wicked move.”

“Finally, someone understands the genius! She deserved it, too, after what a pain she was last year. That’s where the alchemy comes in handy.”

Marella rolled her eyes, and Dex leaned back casually. “Don’t act like you don’t think she deserved it Marella. You know she did.”

“Ok, it was kind of satisfying seeing her run around like that-“

“Yes!”

“-but don’t take it as a sign that I’ll join in. I have a reputation to protect.”

Dex snorted. “Yeah, as the gossip girl.”

“I don’t gossip, I have connections,” she corrected.

“Whatever you say madam,” Dex relented jokingly. “What about you, Soph? Got anything you could build a reputation for?”

“Not really,” she expressed. “I don’t want the spotlight. I just want to make it by here.”

Marella took a bite of her lunch and scoffed. “Good luck with that.”

“Tell you what, my next class is Multispecesial Studies, I can walk you to Alchemy,” Dex offered.

“Really? That would be great, thank you!”

“No problem. It’s hard making it by for people like us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Marella chugged down her lushberry juice.

“We’re different, special.”

“So, outcasts?” Sophie rested her head in her hand and stirred her drink nonchalantly, taking in the view of the cafeteria. It was remarkably pristine and clean, its white walls with blue accents not showing a hint of grime. With the barstools at tables all around the center and the booths to the side, it looked like every diner’s dream.

“No, not outcasts. Think more sideline supporters.”

“So, advocates,” Sophie helped. “I don’t really see that, but maybe one day. Right now I just want to pass.”

“Well you can’t do that on an empty stomach,” Marella chided playfully. “Eat up. Lady Galvin is a stickler for accuracy.”

————

Fantastic. Sophie had only been there one day and she had already ruined her Alchemy teacher’s favorite cloak. Marella was right, Alchemy was tough. She’d have to take Dex up on his offer. She wandered through the halls, trying to find the way to her next class, P.E. She strolled like this for a few more minutes before a snobby voice called to her from down the hall.

“Lost, new kid?”

Sophie winced. Great. The number one person on her People To Avoid list had already found a way into her world. She attempted to speed walk, but the clacking of leveled boots followed quickly, and she was spun around with a harsh push.

Stina laughed, and for a 12 year old elven child, it sounded quite maniacal. “Why so frightened? I don’t bite. Much.”

Somehow Sophie sincerely doubted that. There had to be some fangs behind that evil smirk. But maybe she could play it cool with this demon in disguise.

“I’m not frightened, just lost. Do you think you could point me to P.E.? I don’t want to be late on my first day.” Sophie held her breath, hoping she came off as casual.

“My pleasure,” Stina grinned a sickeningly sweet smile. “In fact, I’ll walk you there. Wouldn’t want our newest prodigy to miss class because of some weak instructions, now would we?”

“No, of course not.”

Stina linked their arms, acting as if they were old pals going on a walk in the park to catch up. It was silent except for the shuffling of their shoes, so Sophie made sure she was hyper aware of her surroundings, trying to memorize the numbers on each locker and how they connected to the twisting, winding paths of the school.

At this point, she was sure Stina planned to do something crazy to her, like stuff her in a locker or hide her body, so she had to think fast. Luckily, this was her specialty.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry,” Sophie began, stopping abruptly. Stina stumbled a bit, but regained her composure in seconds. “I forgot something at my locker! Oh, I’m so sorry, but Edaline told me I’d need what was in my locker. You go ahead, I shouldn’t keep you from your class! Don’t worry, I’ll find my way to Phys Ed.”

Sophie speed walked away, leaving Stina in the dust. Once she rounded the corner, she took off, speeding through corridors and halls until she ran out of breath. Giving up, she rested her head against the wall, trying to clear her head when she was forced to her feet and slammed into a locker. There was a click, and through the slits, Sophie could see Stina’s eyes crinkled in smugness and satisfaction. Yet through all of this, the only thing Sophie was thinking of was, That was pretty lame on a scale of bullying-ness.

“Good luck getting out of there, Foster,” she remarked. “Now, you get comfortable, I have some business to attend to.”

“Gonna go sharpen your claws?” Sophie snapped.

“No, newbie, I’m going to put the princess of Everglen in her place. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you updated!”

And with that, Stina clacked away, her footsteps receding and the silence finding its way to creep back in.

________

Sophie had no way of telling time. This she had learned when she realized she had in fact left something in her locker: her Imparter and the Ruewen crest. She let out an audible groan of frustration, and tried to occupy herself with her temporary home. There were books about unicorn breeding on the shelf above her, to which Sophie wrinkled her nose. Next, there was a box of animal pins, glittering and shiny, and she was very tempted to stuff a few in her pocket, but she restrained herself. She took to examining the pictures on the door with what little light she had and realized, to her disdain, that this was Stina’s locker.

Sophie shivered in disgust and tried patting herself out and getting the Stina vibes off of her.

“Well, if I’m going to be stuck here, I might as well take advantage of it,” she decided. Sophie put all of her energy into memorizing the photo album beside her, and wound up with some lovely photos of baby Stina, along with some other cherished memories. She was scanning through Stina’s diary and chuckling to herself at her inevitable revenge when yelling came from around the corner. Sophie dropped the journal and shuffled forward a bit, peering through the slits. This could be her saving.

“MESS WITH BIANA ONE MORE TIME-” Maruca had her pinned to the wall and looked ready to murder her, but Stina remained unfazed.

“Relax, duchess, you might be the heir soon,” Stina responded coolly.

That was the breaking point. Maruca opened her locker, which was, unfortunately, next to the one Sophie was trapped in, and slammed it shut.

“Maruca!” Sophie yelled, but Stina rattled in her locker, and shouted curses over her, both to insult Maruca and to put an end to Sophie’s escape plan.

Maruca was quick to exit, and soon enough it was just Stina and Sophie, trapped in their lockers, trying to determine the other person’s next move.

“Do you happen to know how to break down locker doors?” Stina commented dryly.

“Would I still be here if I did?”

“Fair.”

“You got a hairpin?” Sophie asked. “Or some thin piece of metal you can slide in between the crack of our lockers? I might be able to break out of mine by picking the lock.”

“And what about me? Gonna leave me here to rot while you run free?” She harrumphed. “I don’t think so. If I’m suffering you suffer with me.”

“I’ll get you out too, just answer the question and slide the metal through the crack.”

Stina huffed, but Sophie heard the sound of metal on metal scratch as something hit her foot. “My family crest. Do not scratch it.”

“You got it.” Sophie used her fingernails to get a little bit of extra room before sliding the crest through the door. She maneuvered it a bit, and the door let out a click as it swung open. Sophie fell forward face first, but sat up and whooped in victory.

Stina cleared her throat. “I’m still here.”

“Oh, I know,” Sophie poked smugly. “But if I’m going to break you outta there, you’re going to owe me a favor.”

“I do NOT-“

“Fine, then stay there. And spend all day, heck, maybe even until tomorrow, stuck in that cramped locker with no food or water whatsoever.” Sophie began to stroll away slowly, biding for time just in case Stina changed her mind about the offer.

“Fine,” she grumbled. “Just get me out.”

Sophie cheered to herself silently and crouched down in front of the locker and got to work. Stina was peering through the slits in the locker, and for a moment they felt each other’s breath on their faces and they met eyes before glaring at each other and backing up a bit. The door swung open, and Stina came crashing down onto Sophie.

Stina pushed herself off of her quickly, seeming very flustered. She reached out a hand to Sophie, which she took. Stina shook Sophie’s hand off of hers.

“I need my family crest,” she said, looking off to the side uncomfortably.

“Oh,” Sophie frowned, unsure why she felt a little disappointed. Probably because my back hurts and I was just refused the little she could have given as thanks, she thought. “Right. Take it.”

Stina’s fingers brushed against Sophie’s as she took it back and pinned it onto her cloak once more. “Well.” Stina lifted her nose upon in the air, regaining her haughty facade. “Until we meet again, Foster.”

“Yeah, Sophie nodded, getting back to her feet. Once Stina was out of earshot, she muttered, “Hopefully that’s never.”

Sophie dusted herself off, finally registering her circumstances. She was late for class, and she looked disheveled. Stina had just walked off, leaving her lost, confused, and just waiting for a punishment of her lifetime. Sighing, she walked along the edges of a pyramid.

“Ms. Foster,” a cold voice crowed from behind her.

Sophie recognized that voice. Dame Alina. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Is there a particular reason that you’re not in class right now?”

“Uh-“

“Incoming!” a boy screamed from the top of his lungs, a bunch of verminions on his tail. Alina shrieked and ran into a neighboring hall for shelter. Sophie took this as an opportunity to find her way out of this maze and escape Alina’s grasp. She followed the boy until they reached the Healing Center, where he hid until the verminions passed by. Sophie stopped. She could go in and ask whatever medic was present for directions, but the thought of going anywhere near a doctor made her sick to the stomach.

“Can I help you, new girl?”

Sophie jumped. The boy she had been following was right in front of her, and she instinctively slunk back.

“Chill, I won’t hurt you. The name’s Keefe, but you can call me-“

“Sorry Keefe, but I’m really late for class, do you know where P.E. Is?”

He furrowed his eyebrows and massaged his neck, looking a bit hurt. “Uh, yeah, take a left after the next three halls.”

“Thank you!” Sophie bolted to class and arrived there out of breath.

“Sophie! Just in time for us to start splotching,” Dex waved her over. “It’s easy, you just use your telekinesis to move this marble into the other person. If you succeed, it bursts and you get a paint splotch on you.”

“Great,” she muttered. “You won’t believe what I’ve just gone through.”

“Tell me at the end of class. We’re gonna need all of our focus for this.”

“Alright,” she sighed. She couldn’t be upset, seeing Dex that excited lifted her mood just a bit. And that was just the boost she needed.

________

This was it. It was down to her and Fitz for the Splotching Champion title. Sophie gathered her concentration. She could not mess this up.

The splotcher was thrown in between them, and Sophie gave it her all. The marble exploded with a loud boom, and they were both thrown into opposite sides of the room. Sophie saw nothing but the green paint, and then darkness.

#hopefully you liked it 🥺#it was really fun to write so I’ll continue if you want it #lemme know #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc fanfic #sophie foster #dex dizznee #marella redek #jensi babblos #stina heks #maruca endal

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fandom-imagines-stories · 5 years

Text

Clouds

Josh Lyman x Reader

Words: 2373

Part 1 of 2

Summary: Head spinning from funeral preparations, the reader barely has time to grieve her father’s death. Her husband, Josh, remembers losing his dad and tries to help her through the dark days of loss.

Notes: I really wanted to write a sad Josh imagine after the sappy Christmas one, so here we go. Also, I want to write some more suspenseful and intense West Wing imagines, so hopefully I will be able to get those going as well! (This started to get long, so I’ll be splitting it into two parts. Let me know what you think!)

You turned the corner, saw your husband, and immediately turned back. You weren’t fast enough.

“Y/N!” Josh shouted, pushing through a couple assistants to catch up to you. You turned around and put on an innocent smile.

“Hi honey.” His eyebrows were furrowed and his lips turned into a deep frown. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

“Why did the President’s speech get moved back?” He asked with a frustrated sigh.

“We thought it would be better for him to speak after-”

“After the Majority Leader announces that the Democrats just got screwed!” He shouted, receiving looks from the people squeezing past you.

“Maybe we should talk about this in my office, Josh.” You said through gritted teeth. You grabbed Josh’s arm and shoved him into your office. “We decided that the speech would be too contradictory to try and make policy changes right before our other changes are shot down.”

“As opposed to sounding like a bunch of kids trying to start a fight on the playground?” He snapped. “Y/N-” You held up a finger and gave him a silencing look.

“Need I remind you that this is my job?” You were one of the Media Specialists for the President. Josh stepped closer to you, his voice almost a growl.

“Need I remind you that I’m technically your boss!” If you weren’t standing in the White House, you might have slapped him. The muscles in your jaw clenched as you bit your tongue to keep from saying something you’d regret. You turned away from him and sat down behind your desk.

“You probably have something more important to do… boss.” You kept your eyes on your desk as he stormed out. Fuming, you grabbed a pencil and snapped it in half, throwing the pieces across the room.

“Is this a bad time?” Your assistant, Lisa, asked cautiously from the doorway.

“He pulled the authority card, Lisa.” You exclaimed. “He told me that he’s my boss!” She raised an eyebrow.

“Isn’t he your boss?”

“He’s also my husband.” You retorted. She shrugged.

“Hey, you’re the one who married the Deputy Chief of Staff.” Lisa handed you a note with missed call information. “You got a call while you were arguing. She said that she’s your sister.”

Josh was cleaning up a stack of papers that he’d thrown across his office in anger when Donna walked in.

“What tornado came through here?” She joked, leaning against the door frame and her arms crossed.

“Don’t start with me this morning, Donna.” He barked. He gathered up the papers and put them back on his desk.

“You talked about the speech thing, didn’t you?” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“I told her I was her boss.”

“You didn’t.” Her arms dropped to her side and she stepped into the office, closing the door behind her.

“Yeah.” Josh grimaced. “But she’s wrong!”

“It doesn’t matter who's right or wrong, you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.” She pointed out. He narrowed his eyes with annoyance.

“Get out.”

“I don’t want to hear about your back being sore tomorrow.” She shrugged.

“Go!” She went back to her desk and he fell back into his chair. Donna was right, of course, which irritated him even more. He’d barely even started to look over his work when Donna came back into the office. “Didn’t I tell you to leave me alone?”

“Lisa just called me-” He was too fired up to process the shocked, saddened expression on her face.

“Donna, I can handle-”

“You need to go talk to Y/N-”

“Donna, really-”

“Josh.” Her serious tone caught him off guard. When he finally started to take in the grieving look in her eyes, he knew something was wrong.

“What is it?”

“Y/N’s dad just died.”

And the fight was forgotten. Josh walked quickly, rushing through the West Wing and making his way towards your office. Donna’s words echoed in his mind, mixing with his memories of the Illinois primary. When he lost his dad.

“Where is she?” He asked Lisa. She pointed to your office.

“She’s getting ready for a meeting with a committee from-”

“Cancel it.” He ordered and Lisa nodded in agreement. It was an easily reschedulable meeting, and you weren’t in the state of mind to discuss national park advertisement. He slowly opened the door to your office, finding you loading your briefcase with documents, the papers shaking in your hands. “Y/N?”

“I really can’t talk right now. I have to get to a meeting.” You tried to move around him but he placed a hand on your arm.

“I had Lisa cancel it.” You couldn’t bear to see the sympathetic look in his eyes. You shook your head.

“I can’t. I have to-”

“Y/N.” He put a hand on your cheek and you finally looked into his eyes. Your lip started to tremble and your composure crumbled. Josh’s heart sank. “Come here.” He wrapped his arms around you and it almost felt like he was holding you up, your knees buckling underneath you. He kept one arm around your waist and held the back of your head with his other hand. “I’m sorry.” He muttered into your hair. “I'm so sorry.”

“He’s just… He’s-” You sucked in a painful breath. “He’s gone.” It didn’t make any sense. Your dad wasn’t sick. He hadn’t been battling an illness for the past several years. You didn’t have time to prepare. Car accidents didn’t allow that.

Josh didn’t say anything. He knew there wasn’t anything he could say that would make any of it easier. He knew better than most. That growing empty feeling that you just can’t shake no matter how many hands you shake or sympathy cards you read.

Word spread quickly through the office, reaching the President in a matter of minutes.

“You’re sure?” He said somberly and Leo nodded.

“He was in a collision on the way home this morning,” Leo explained, his heart heavy with the news. He knew Bill well. It was actually how he had met Y/N. She was all fire and spunk and he had recommended her to the President for a media specialist.

“He was a good man.” President Bartlet sighed. “Remind me to send something to Marissa. And tell Y/N and Josh to take all the time they need.”

“Will do, Mr. President.”

You usually loved driving home. The Virginia fields reminded you of the land that you grew up on. Now, all you could think about were the memories. Your father teaching you how to ride a horse. Bringing you ice cream after a long day of homework. He was the one who taught you how to write. And now he was just… gone. Josh tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the music on the radio.

“You know you’re going to have to get along with her.” You said suddenly, images of previous arguments flashing through your head.

“Who?” He asked innocently, eyebrows raised behind his sunglasses. You gave him a look.

“My sister.” He shuttered and you rolled your eyes. “I’m serious, Josh. I know you don’t like each other, but this is really not the occasion to get into one of your screaming matches. Everyone is going to be on edge enough and-”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Josh took a hand off the wheel and placed it on top of yours. “I won’t fight with Celia.”

“Promise?” He gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

“I promise,” Easier said than done. Josh had never gotten along with your older sister. Even at your wedding, they managed to have an argument in the kitchen while you threw the bouquet. You never understood what their ongoing feud was about. They had the same political stance, your sister adored President Bartlet, and Josh had always gotten along with your parents. Your mother couldn’t get enough of him. If you were honest, sometimes you thought she liked him more than you! But not Celia. There was something about the two of them that always led to legendary arguments that could be heard from the capitol.

After a few more hours of driving, the hills and trees opened to a long, winding driveway that led up to the house. You drove up a few days early so that you could help your mother prepare for the funeral, but even now, cars lined the driveway belonging to people coming to express their sympathies. Being a Representative for the State of Virginia made your mother a well-beloved and publicized woman. So word spread quickly around town and many families came to share their grief.

After Josh was able to find a parking spot, the two of you carried your suitcases to the back door. Dozens of people in black dress clothes passed by you with sympathetic smiles.

“Here, let me get those.” Someone offered. You turned to see Thomas, your brother-in-law.

“Hey,” You greeted, pulling him into a hug. “How is everybody?” He shrugged.

“We’re holding up.” He turned to Josh and shook his hand. Thomas, compared to his wife, took no issue with your husband. “Fair warning, Josh, a lot of Bill’s journalist friends are here and they’re going to love seeing the White House Deputy Chief of Staff.”

Your father had run the local newspaper for years. He was an incredible journalist, with many offers from bigger news outlets like the Washington Post, but he only ever wanted to do local news.

“Local news is where the good stories are.” You remembered him saying. “Writing about real people and not always talking about how dark and gloomy the world is… that’s all I want.”

He’s the reason you got into media work in the first place. When you got the job at the White House, he got you the most beautiful fountain pen, with gold embellishments and the words “Make the world a little less dark and gloomy. Beyond proud of you- Love Dad” engraved on the box. With all of the messes going on at the White House, you started to wonder if you ever really made him proud.

“Hey,” Josh grabbed your hand before you stepped into the crowded living room. He must have seen your nervous expression because he gave you a reassuring smile. “Do you want to just go for a walk? Get some of that fresh Virginia air before you talk to anyone?” You let out a breath of relief and nodded.

Josh knew how it felt to look around your childhood home and not recognize a single person. To see a bunch of strangers sharing grief for someone that they hardly knew. It was suffocating. He convinced you to walk him through the orchards. They were beautiful this time of year. You took off your heels and walked down the path with bare feet. The dirt and the grass were cool against your skin while your intertwined hands swung back and forth as you walked in the spring sun.

“He loved days like this.” You mused, looking up at the sky. It was freckled with large, puffy white clouds. “He used to say that clouds were the shadows of distant worlds passing by. Island kingdoms home to all sorts of creatures.”

“Sounds like he should have written fantasy novels instead of news articles.” Josh chuckled. You smiled.

“He did.” You picked up a flowery branch and twirled it around in your hand. “They were just filled with little stories for me and Celia. He got them bound and everything, but he never published them. They’re up in his study somewhere.” Josh smiled with awe, fondly remembering the way his father-in-law told everyone stories at dinner. Some of them were true, some definitely weren’t, but it didn’t matter. They always made him think differently about himself.

You made your way back to the house, seeing Celia standing on the back porch with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Uh oh.” Josh groaned. You slapped his side.

“Thomas said you guys got here an hour ago.” She snapped accusingly. “Did you just want to leave me and mom to do all the hosting?”

“CeeCee, hush, it’s alright.” Your mom came through the screen door with a tray of wine glasses. “I wouldn’t have wanted to be in with the crowd either if I didn’t have to be.”

“Representative Y/L/N, it’s good to see you.” Josh gave your mother a hug. “I’m really sorry for your loss.”

“And I’m sorry that even after three years of being my son-in-law you still haven’t called me Marissa.” She scolded.

“My apologies, Marissa.” He grinned.

“So where have the two of you been?” Celia asked her tone still accusatory.

“We just went for a walk.” You shrugged. She clenched her jaw and sat in one of the chairs while you and Josh shared the porch swing.

The sun started to set and the five of you enjoyed a few glasses of wine and Josh bit his tongue whenever Celia tried to provoke him. This lasted for a few hours before everyone decided that they’d had a long day and it was time to turn in for the night.

You slept in your old room, only now it had classy wallpaper instead of band posters. Josh had all but fallen asleep when he noticed you standing at the window.

“What’re you doing?” He muttered groggily. His senses, however, switched to high alert when he heard the sniffle of crying. “Honey?”

“I’m fine.” You waved your hand at him. “Go to sleep, I’ll just be a second.” He stood up, taking the comforter with him to wrap around you while his arms fell around your neck. You held back a sob. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“I know it hurts.” He whispered, his lips grazing your ear. “And I can’t tell you when it gets better because it’ll come back. Not all the time, but every once and a while, it’ll hurt. But I’m gonna be there for you when it does.” You turned around so you were facing each other and he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead.

The next few days would be rough, but he knew what they were like. And he would get you through them.

#josh lyman x reader #bradley whitford #the west wing imagines #josh lyman #jed bartlet

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seventeen-alternative-universe · 4 years

Text

Curiosity killed the cat (but I wouldn’t mind)

Thanks to @dramaloverrants for such a wonderful idea.

Sypnosis: Lu Yao hid something from Chusheng. It made him curious, and he tried to find out why, only to know that Lu Yao, indeed, got into troubles.

Chusheng felt like Lu Yao was trying to hide something away from him.

It wasn’t a problem to him when people had secrets, but since the first day he met Lu Yao, the detective never really tried to hide, nor lied to him about anything (well, although sometimes he would be a little sneaky, tried to have fun here and there in the police station, Chusheng wouldn't mind about that for a bit, as long as Lu Yao didn’t harm anyone).

However, the way Lu Yao acted lately gave Chusheng the jitters.

For example, Lu Yao loved to eat, because to him, food was a part of his normal life besides cases. Whenever they went to a restaurant, he would definitely order a take-out and continued to eat through the way. However, seeing him absolutely immersed in something that made him forgot to order a food parcel was alarming.

“San Tu, you don't like this restaurant?”

Chusheng asked, then frowned when he saw his partner's distracted state again. He lightly shook his shoulder, which earned him a flinch from Lu Yao.

“Sorry, can you repeat what you just said?”

“You don’t like the dishes of this restaurant?” Chusheng repeated the question. It is rare to see Lu Yao in such a preoccupied state, Chusheng thought. “You’ve been distracted recently. Is there anything bothering you?”

“Oh nothing. Just some theories about biology wandered in my mind.” Lu Yao laughed, put his sweaty hands in his pocket in front of Chusheng's gaze, and hoped that the inspector wouldn’t notice about his worried state.

Chusheng stared at him for a few minutes before looking away and sighed. He knew Lu Yao was trying to hide something, but he couldn’t force him to tell about that. He respected Lu Yao’s secret.

“Alright. Let's go then, the case won’t solve itself after all.”

Lu Yao nodded then paced to Chusheng’s car, ignored the inspector's worried look burning the back of his neck.

~~~

It was dead midnight when Chusheng saw Lu Yao at the corner of the street, which really surprised him.

Chusheng knew that Lu Yao was an active sleeper, and he would not give up his precious sleeping time for anything, except those times when he would pull several all-nighters to solve a case. But tonight they didn’t have any, so there were no reasonable excuses for Lu Yao to roam around this late.

What alerted him more was the scene of Lu Yao talked to someone, probably a man, in the dark, dusty corner, next to the Bank of Sassoon.

Chusheng silently approached the corner, tried to eavesdrop on the conversation between these two. Clearly, the hushed, strained voice of Lu Yao couldn't help Chusheng, but the rough voice of the other man did.

“Please, I'm begging you. I know that you are the greatest detective in Shanghai, you are my only hope.”

“Li Xiansheng, I… I couldn't take this case. Please understand.”

“Please, Detective Lu, I don’t trust in the police force. My wife's mysterious disappearance was closed by those men, no one gave me an answer to that. And now my daughter is missing too. History repeats itself, and the police just didn’t care.”

Another cold case needs to be reopened, Chusheng thought to himself, continued to observed the two. He heard a surrendering sigh before Lu Yao spoke again. “Okay. I will solve this case as a detective personally. Just give me four days.”

“Thank you, thank you.” The man said profusely. “I will never forget your help.”

Lu Yao only nodded, waited until the man went away, then silently returned home. Chusheng followed him, made sure that he came back safely before having a trip to the police station.

He decided that if the stranger didn’t want the police to get involved, he would help Lu Yao and deal with this by himself in secret, as an ex-mafia.

~~~

“You want me to help you with a disappearance case?” You-ning asked. Chusheng nodded.

“Do you know any missing cases that weren't solved, and stayed on the newspaper for a long time?”

You-ning frowned, then rummaged through her piles of paper. She put an old news on the table.

“Here. A man posted on the news the descriptions of his wife, saying that she didn’t come back home after a party that was organized at a small casino. At the time she went missing, the wife wore a black breton hat with a black pegged dress.”

“Quite normal, wasn't it?”

“Yes, it could be considered normal.” The journalist gave him another piece of news. “Guess who just posted that same kind of descriptions few days ago?”

Chusheng read through the columns: lady, 20 years old, wore a black breton hat with a black pegged dress. Same descriptions, just different people.

“When did that man first posted the descriptions?” Chusheng asked.

“About 18 years ago. His wife at that time was around 20 years old.”

“Thanks for that pieces of information.” He said and left the room quickly, ignored the startled call of You-ning behind him, then drove to the police station. At there, he ordered Salim and A-Dou to search for the cold case files, read all of them carefully, then noted down any suspicious, or related points. Although this process took a lot of time, but in the end, Chusheng did notice some patterns, and all of them led to a person.

And his finding made him regretted about letting Lu Yao solved the case.

Chusheng wished he stopped Lu Yao from accepting to help the man that night. He didn't know about the man's connections with those nasty foreigners. He blamed himself for not noticing about this earlier. The overwrought feeling inside his heart probably didn't help either, as it continued to grow when he came to his car, and saw the familiar lanky figure, not far away from him, being pulled to a car in an unconscious, probably drugged state.

Lu Yao.

Chusheng cursed under his breath, jumped into his car and followed, his knuckles turned white from holding the steering wheel so tight. He might drive over speed, but he just wanted to save Lu Yao after all.

Seeing the car parked and Lu Yao being dragged out, he took in a deep breath, got himself mentally prepared, then followed those men in a deadly silence.

~~~

Everything around Lu Yao was a blur, and it kept spinning.

He remembered that he came to a room that was allocated by Li Xiansheng to discuss more about the case, but by the time he got there, he suddenly felt really sleepy, and his last conscious thought was oh, the room was filled with chloroform.

Lu Yao could sense the rough pull of someone on his arms and legs, then the car engine roared, yet he couldn’t move, his long body were limp and he was so, so fatigued. The jolts that were caused by the car bumped along the road only made the nauseous feeling worsen.

When they stopped, he was pulled out of the car, and tied onto a chair inside a small cabin near a river, as he could felt the moist wind blowed on his face. He felt a cold, sharp blade slided on his neck, on his face, followed by a hollow, maniacal laugh. Just a move went wrong and that blade would take his life, but it seemed like the kidnapper wouldn't mind about that. He tried so hard to open his eyes, but all of his efforts were useless. So many thoughts and possibilities ran in his mind, and he wished he could hit his head on something to stop them. He wished for someone, just someone, to came and save him.

Just when that thought came into his mind, he heard the sound of screams and shattered objects echoed in the small cabin. He wheezed, and shrunk his body as small as possible, wished that he would be unnoticed. Tears rolled on his cheeks as his headache subdued due to anesthetic effects of chloroform. Am I going to die?, he thought, before he surrendered to the pitch dark of unconsciousness. His last thing stayed on his mind was the appearance of Chusheng, his Qiao Si, his favourite police, his wallet, his partner, as he cut all the ropes that tied him, hugged him in his strong arms, enveloped him in his warm and whispered to him with his signature husky voice.

“San Tu, I'm late, I’m so sorry. I will take you home, our home.”

~~~

Lu Yao ran in the dark, his breath was uneven and his legs were weary, but he still kept running. At one point, he lost his balance and tumbles, but he stood up right away. They were so close behind him, ready to catch him. Fatigue and exhaustion took over his sense, but he still ran.

Then suddenly, he stopped.

He couldn't move his body, even though he tried to kick, to struggle away from the death grip, but to no avail. He vaguely heard the shout of someone, then that shout became clearer and clearer.

“Lu Yao, Lu Yao…”

A gasp, then Lu Yao sat up, blinked his eyes a few times to adjust to the darkness, before he noticed Chusheng holding his shoulders, eyes wide with worry and concern.

“You are awake.”

Chusheng sat down next to him, carefully wiped away the sweat on his forehead, but Lu Yao seemed to have a different idea, as he held the inspector's calloused hand, and rested his head on it.

“Chusheng, I was scared, so scared.”

“I know.” Chusheng hummed. “I wished that I stopped you from accepting that man's request. I promised to protect you, but I failed, and I...”

“Shhh.” Lu Yao shushed him, then press his forehead on him, let their noses brushed against each other. “You came there just in time. You saved me.”

“But… the trauma of this…”

“Don’t worry.” Lu Yao smiled a little, before kissed Chusheng, their hands interlaced. “I will be fine, as long as you stay by my side.”

“I promise.”

Lu Yao nodded, before pulled Chusheng to lay next to him, and clinged on to the strong, firm body like a koala. He mumbled something, probably between “I love you" and “Good night", then went to sleep. Chusheng kissed his temple then smiled.

As long as Lu Yao stayed by his side, he would be fine.

#qiao chusheng #lu yao #lu yao x qiao chusheng #my roommate is a detective #word count: 1739 words

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