#too bad about the rain but hopefully you get some sunshine soon! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sp00kworm · 3 years

Text

Evo-23

Pairing: Zombie/Infected (Ji-woon) x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Gore, Horror, Cannibalism, Graphic Gore and Wound descriptions, Death.

---

---

“Consider it a harmless improvement of human evolution!”

“It’s a disaster waiting to happen. It is barely tested and not ready for human use. The rewriting of the genetic code was banned for so long for this very reason!”

“And who’s to say it’s a good idea now?”

“It’s truly just a simple splicing technique. Consider the eradication of cancer and genetic diseases!”

“A disaster. An abomination to God.”

“This, my good sir, is God’s great plan.”

They made the Others, then they made the epidemic.

You looked at his face. Again, and again, you looked at his face replaying on the small screen, running on what juice was left in the generators you had managed to salvage from the quarantine hospital camps they had set up when it all started. His bald, freckled head, and the glasses you wished you could snap and stamp on. Cold brown eyes. He’d known and done nothing.

“Just a simple rewriting of DNA code.” You uttered as you pushed your spoon into the syrup of the tinned peaches you were eating. It tasted good enough, but it was pushing close to the expiry date on the top of the sawed open metal. Soon you would be struggling you knew. The risk of botulism would be high the longer you carried on eating canned food after the dates. You hoped that wouldn’t happen. You prayed as you checked the date and sighed with relief. Canned peaches just tasted too good. Along side it you had managed to find some very stale looking crackers, but it was a meal almost for a king in the squalor you had been suffering for the past two years. Syrup dripped over your chin before you wiped it away and slapped the recording off.

The papers had raved about the new viral technique to removing cells, DNA and disease from humans. Rat, dog, rabbit and pig research had all gone well, showing promising signs for the virus vector to be used in all walks of life. Chimps had suffered few effects. One in every hundred had suffered mania effects, easily glazed over and removed from the public eye before the method was patented properly and set to human subjects. It was then that the issues started. Isolated manic episodes, bleeding from the nose and eyes, total loss of motor function before the body was paralysed and the blood vessels collapsed. It killed people. Five participants were killed. It killed their cancerous tumours but then it killed everything else. There was something different after that. Then the bodies started digging their way out of graves. It was covered up. Again, and again, bodies went missing in the night until one of them was gone. The cases carried on after that, bleeding eyed screaming creatures running through hospitals, cold and dead, but moving completely from memory. Then there had been the Others. The Others had evolved. Humans whose DNA had fully incorporated with the virus. They were stronger, immortal and just as dead as the rest, except they were not stupid. They didn’t run after heat and blood; they hid and took what food they wanted. They could think.

Since the days of the beginning of the end, the Others had taken territory, carving it up for themselves as they saw fit, each with their own group of mindless brain rots. You’d done well to avoid them. They preferred it when it was cooler now as the summer sun rotted their flesh faster than it could heal itself. The heat was, for once, your friend. It didn’t solve the issue of your boiling apartment, but air conditioning was a dream you had in the night now. You’d rather the heat than the memories of the last snow, perfectly preserving hibernating zombies under the ice in the wilderness while the city zombies roamed without the risk of rotting and collapsing in heaps of half broken bones and stringy flesh. The Others roamed wild in the winter, tearing people apart while it was cool before disappearing into the subways in the heat of spring and summer. Hopefully it meant you could search for a few more supplies on the next run. You needed some plant pots and seeds if you wanted to survive, and hopefully some more drinking water.

As you finished the can of peaches, you looked outside at the bright sunshine and grabbed for your bag by the couch. It was heavy with supplies, and you rummaged around for the small sandwich bags with pens for if you did manage to find seeds. You shoved the supplies together, along with a bottle of water and a few cereal bars before you grabbed the bush axe you had found, wrapped tightly with cord so you could hold it tightly and not send it flying. Failing that you had a bat and a small knife. You shouldered the backpack and mentally wrote a list as you headed to the door, pulling away your carefully made barricade. There was a small trap you had, and you set the bear trap across the threshold, covered by a sheet. The final touch was the swinging chair you set on the latch before you closed the door and locked it. The hallway was clear, you’d made sure to barricade each end, and you sighed softly before heading to the stairs and locking the doors behind you again, setting the boards back up against the door before you quietly headed towards the exit and out into the streets, into the blistering summer heat and rubble.

The streets were dead. Silent except for the rustling of rotting plastic flying across the abandoned roads. The infected were down below, their shuffling and groans emanating from the sewers below. The rest were dozing in cool shade, swaying back and forth, their eyes gone and the skin of their faces gaunt. The Others didn’t look like that, or so you had been told before the rest of the survivors disappeared. The Others were covered in burst vessels, bruised and pale, cold. Their noses bled and their eyes did too, but they were black eyed and vicious, their voices replaced with snarls and clicks. They were terrifying. You’d been lucky enough to avoid them so far. You took a deep breath of dusty air before tugging at the scarf over your head and peering through the mucky glass window of the hardware store. Inside was dusty and grubby, the shelves mostly empty at the entrance from the looting when it all started. Otherwise, it seemed empty. You hoped you were right as you headed towards the back fire exits and tried the handle bars.

The two around the side clicked but jingled with the sound of chains. They opened a couple of inches before the chains went taught and kept it from opening any further. You sighed and left them, closing the doors again before you carried on around the back of the building and found the employee entrance and exit. You took a breath and opened the door carefully. It swung open to reveal a dark warehouse. The cages of stock were mostly untouched. You grinned in victory before you turned on your pump power torch. It lit up the interior to reveal the cages of soil, wood and other items like watering cans and pots. Plastic pots, seeds and some planting soil. You needed those things, and a water purifier. If you were lucky, people had bunkered down here and you would be able to find some unopened water bottles. It was a long shot, but it was something you desperately needed besides food resources. You took a step inside and listened before grabbing a few bricks from outside and propping the door open, unaware of a pair of black eyes watching you.

The warehouse was devoid of infected, and you were thankful as you searched the aisles of cages and bins for what you wanted. Light, deep plastic pots and a small bag of soil. You needed to be able to carry your things home. You found a few plastic planters quickly and then set about finding seeds, coming through several tote boxes of packets before you grabbed vegetables and fruits of various kinds. They were barely in date, but hopefully something would grow. You shoved the seeds away and picked up your planters and a small watering can, smiling at the little elephant nose on it before fastening it to your bag. Shouldering a small bag of soil, you then quickly did a search for water bottles. To your delight there was a pack of 2L bottles. It was too much to carry but you took a couple in your bag and stashed the rest behind a brick pile outside to collect later. Making sure it was well hidden, you kicked the bricks away from the door and shouldered your bag and grabbed the pots once again before moving as quietly as you could back around to the front of the hardware store. It was still quiet, but the sun was hanging low in the sky, indicating that it was close to being dark. The dark brought cold, and that let the infected walk around without their limbs dropping from their bodies.

You reached your tower block before the night truly set in, dragging the soil up the stairs as you barricaded the doors between you and the exit. You reached your own floor and set the barricades against the door before you sighed quietly and reached for your own door. You unlocked it and carefully inched it open far enough to take the chair snare trap off the handle, lowering it before you leaned down and looped it back on the door. The bear trap was still set, and you inched around it before setting down the day’s findings in the middle of the living area. Your stomach gurgled with hunger, and you grabbed the box of protein and cereal bars you had pilfered, along with the survival food pouches. They were rich in carbohydrates and protein, so they would be good when you were very low on food. You stashed everything away before chewing on a protein fruit bar happily. You looked at the seed packets and smiled as the clouds moved over and thunder rumbled in the distance. It meant rain. You looked through the packets as you chewed and happily started to pick veggies to get growing before the rain rolled over. They needed to be out on the small balcony to get watered by the incoming bad weather.

The night was filled with the crash of lightning and the rumble of thunder, which covered the groans of the zombies wandering around below, rotting and stinking of the sewers. Still, you got a little sleep between the storms, sleeping lightly in the corner of the room, tucked underneath your little fortified area. The bed you’d used to make barricades and weapons if all else was lost. You woke with a start as the handle to your room jiggled up and down. The infected didn’t have such capacity. You rushed out of the small blanket and pillows to grab for your axe, strapping o your stolen police vest before you headed to the little entry way. Your bear trap and chair trap were still set. With a deep breath, you stood ready by the door as the lock opened with a clunk and the handle went down again. The door opened quickly, and you gasped at the creature stood in the doorway, heaving blood from its mouth before it leaned back, and fresh blood dripped from its black eyes. It was once a human, but it was now one of The Others. It clicked and stepped back to dodge the knife strapped chair, slamming the wood down from its pulley in the ceiling with one great slap of its hand. Black eyes looked forwards, and it clicked again, blood dripping from the corner of its mouth as it dashed forwards. Clumsily, its foot slid over the bear trap, and the trap snapped shut tightly around its ankle.

The Other howled a great series of violent clicks, tugging its leg before it fell to its knees and pulled at the metal, heaving the two rows of sharp teeth apart with shaking arms. You acted then, yelling as you slammed the axe down towards its head. He caught the handle, letting the bear trap snap back shut around his ankle as he fended you off, clicking and gurgling.

“What the fuck?” You gasped as you tugged your axe away violently and went to strike again, aiming for the temple. Again, the Other caught your swing, clicking in upset as the bear trap tore its flesh open to the bone, exposing the black stained tissue underneath its skin. An all too human face looked up at you as it pushed your axe away again, black eyes bleeding red. The Other was dark haired, the black tangled mess falling to just under his chin, though his eyebrows were sparse. The same seemed to have befallen his eyelashes, and you looked at the pale, almost alien face as you panicked. It was once a man. Slowly, it reached for the bear trap again.

“NO!” You shouted, and to your surprise, the Other looked at you, its bruised fingers releasing the mechanism for a second time as it gurgled more blood and licked its teeth and eyed the bare flesh exposed from your sleep wear.

The Others still craved flesh and blood. They still needed human cells to survive. Their own bodies were lacking in the vital building blocks of life. Stem cells. The had been seen licking the marrow from bones and pulling open children regularly in search of such treats. Those, it was thought, were the key to their regeneration. The Other looked at your legs and you hopped back a step, as though to hide the long bones full of marrow from his sight.

“Why…” You struggled to find your voice, “Why haven’t you killed me already?”

The Other looked at you, his head tilted far to the left, as though he was listening to you. The creature reached towards you and pointed then curled his fingers back towards himself and gurgled shortly before he reached back to his ankle again and tried to winch open the bear trap. His arms went tight as he heaved the metal teeth apart, slamming either side down onto the laminate. He was free. You took another step back and gripped the axe tighter as the Other got to his feet, his shattered bones clicking back together before the wound closed and his bruised, pale skin recovered the black flesh inside.

The Other clicked again, his head tilting left and right, fingers twitching and eyes rolling. He was looking at you, watching you breathe and move as he moved left and right on his legs. In moments, he was healed, but he still stood by the bear trap and watched. Blood dripped from his nose, weaving a trail over the cupids bow of his lips before it dripped over his sickly purple lips and into his mouth. His tongue dipped out to lick it away. His lips pealed backwards in a smile as he clicked and gurgled again. In a flash, he had moved towards you, his hands slamming either side of your head, pinning you against the wall. His teeth flashed by your skin, blackened and sharp, his mouth filled with clots of his own blood. Another gurgle came from his throat as he sniffed the left and right side of your neck with blood dripping from his nose. A drop landed on your chest, rolling over the skin and into your shirt as the Other clicked again, reaching for you with a grubby and bruised, blood-stained hand. The cold hand wrapped around your throat in a quiet threat, and the Other continued to look you up and down, fingers dragging against the warmth of your flesh.

They like warm flesh enough to come out in the sunlight.

“Are you going to cut me open and peel out my bones?” You asked as you looked at the door, avoiding the snarling face in front of you. Black eyes wiggled back and forth for a moment before the Other opened its mouth, the sharpened teeth flashing over your shoulder before it took an unsteady step backwards, ear tilted towards the windows. It was dark, and thunder clapped in the distance again before the sound of rain filled the apartment once more.

The Other shook his head slowly as his head twisted back, his back bending backwards as he slumped and peered out at the rain. He dragged his ruined foot behind him as he went to the window and looked down at the wet streets below, his black eyes watching the infected below wade through the water and rubbish. Another long, low click sounded from his throat before he turned his dark eyes on you again, blinking slowly before he picked up his leg and looked at the torn fabric of his jeans. The wound had healed, leaving a faint trace of dark red, almost black blood on his bruised skin. His arm moved, but this time it was to wipe the blood from his nose away on his sleeve. His arm came away streaked with fresh blood, but he still peered outside, looking at the meandering bodies outside in the rain.

“What are you looking at?” You asked from against the wall as the Other twitched by the window and clicked again. His black eyes moved from the glass to your face and then back again before he reached into his pocket. His dead fingers wiggled around for a while before he pulled out a long lanyard and presented the card to you. There was a dark-haired man on the picture, his hair slicked back, the sides shaved with a pair of glasses sat on his nose.

“Ji-woon.” You read carefully from where you were, “Is that who you were?”

The Other looked at you, studying your face before he raised a fist to his shoulder and nodded it with his head. You looked at the lanyard carefully, noticing the faded and stained academy logo. The badge confirmed it. He was a teacher before everything. Once he was human. Once he was a teacher. Now he was one of the Others.

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?” You asked again, “You want to eat my bone marrow, right?”

The Other looked at you again, blood dripping from his eyes and spit clinging to the side of his mouth. He opened his mouth, gurgled again, clicked his tongue and then moved back towards you. His black eyes caught the light of a lightning bolt and you reached for your axe with a small yelp.

The axe was thrown from your grasp before you could get a grip on it. The Other clicking as he dragged you by the wrists onto the floor. The axe clattered away, and you flinched as his fingers found the straps of the tactical vest, plucking them away violently before he dragged the material and plating away, leaving you exposed in just your pyjamas. Wiggling, you tried to free yourself from his grasp to no avail. Blood from his eyes dripped down the sides of his nose and onto the material of your shirt, staining it a deep, dark red. You closed your eyes as he let out another series of low clicks and drew closer to your shoulder. If he didn’t eat you, you would turn, just like the rest. A bite from an Other would make you one of his thrall or another like him. Another one of the Others.

“Kill me then. Just don’t let me turn. I want to die.” You whispered as you closed your eyes tight. The Other clicked again, a slow series of articulates noises that disappeared into a whine, not unlike a dog.

Then the arms caging you to the floor slipped downwards. His nails dragged away curls of wood as the Other let his hands travel, his fingers ghosting over your skin again in a meandering pattern downwards. You flinched as he pinched the flesh around your middle, tugging hard before they continued down your stomach and over your legs. He shifted backwards in order to look at your legs. His black eyes rolled over the flesh as spit, mixed with blood, leaked from the corners of his mouth. The slobber dripped over your calves, but you didn’t dare move as his cold fingertips traced under the arch of your foot and then grabbed hold of your ankle. He held it in a bruising grip, his fingers wrapped tightly around the flesh, strangling the blood flow. It hurt and you let out a cry as he twisted it around, tugging the joint awkwardly.

“Please.” You sniffled on the floor as he dragged you back towards him. You wiggled only to have his hand slam on your middle, winding you before he pressed you back to the floor again.

He opened his mouth, wheezed, coughed and then gurgled, “P-Please.”

Your eyes shot open as the Other released your ankle with a frown, his hairless eyebrows furrowed over his eyes. His lips quivered again, dipping up and down before he swallowed and shook, blood spraying from his nose. The droplets landed over your floor and streaked up the Other’s cheeks in wild, spider web patterns. Stumbling, he dragged himself upwards and touched his own lips.

“P-Please.” he gurgled again, a deranged smile spreading across his face.

“Don’t mock me.” You wept at him, wiping your face as you struggled for your axe, your fingers slipping around the handle as he leaped on you again. A smiling face covered in blood loomed over you before he gurgled, clicked and growled, holding his throat before angrily thumping at his Adams apple. The Other wheezed and coughed blood over your chest before he reached into his pocket again, teeth clicking, and pulled out the lanyard to show you. You shook your head before he tapped the photo on the plastic then tapped his own blood covered cheek.

You laid there in confusion, looking up at the drooling monster before you found your voice.

“That’s you before this. Ji-woon. You were a teacher.” You declared quietly, whispering into the thunderstorm.

The Other turned the card back to himself and touched the photo and then his own hair, his cold fingers tangling in the matted mess that hung around his cheeks. It was nothing like the slicked back, side shaven style he once wore, and he seemed to realise that as he tugged at the hair and pulled away a small clump. He wasn’t alive anymore. He was only alive thanks to his constant need to eat the flesh of the living. His victims stem cells and other living tissue was why he was a walking corpse beyond the others. An agonised cry left his lips, and the Other clutched at his own hair as he slumped over you, his teeth clicking dangerously close to your shoulder.

“You’re not him anymore.” You whispered again, reaching up with shaking hands. You sniffled as you reached and carefully took hold of his face, feeling the piercing coldness of his skin. Blood stuck to your palms as the Other raised it head enough to look from side to side, his black eyes quivering back and forth as he looked at your hands cupping his face.

“So, if you’re in there, Ji-woon, I’d rather you end me quickly...r-rather than play with me like a cat.” You sobbed.

The Other let the card of his lanyard clatter to the floor, the dirty fabric of the lanyard laid over wooden floor. There was another deafening crash of lightning and rumble of thunder as the Other stumbled backwards, his legs wobbling as his teeth clicked and ground together rhythmically. Click. Grind. Click. Grind. It was unsettling. You crawled backwards towards your weapon, only to pause as the room was lit up with lightning again, and you saw tears mingle with the blood leaking from his nose. Pink droplets dripped from his chin. The Other looked at you on the floor, then back to the windows, before he let out an unholy scream. With a cry, you covered your ears as the Other called for his thrall with tears the colour of blood dripping down his cheeks and neck. He shook his head and curled in on himself before howling again, another upsetting, glass shaking as he wailed over the sound of the storm. You reached for the axe again, crying as your ears rang with the noise of the Other’s screams. With a scream of your own, you launched yourself at him with the axe held high. Black eyes flashed before he caught you with open arms, grappling you around the middle in a hug. The axe jolted against his shoulder, falling from your grasp as you fell into his grasp.

The Other quivered again you, his jaw grinding before he rested his nose against your neck. He was icily cold, and he wheezed cold breaths over your neck, his lips sticky against your skin. He didn’t bite you. His lips parted to let him wheeze again and he dragged his nose over the skin before he sobbed, more tears dripping down his nose. The Other pulled away, his black eyes wide and wet with more unshed tears.

“I’ve…never seen an Other cry…” You confessed as he hugged you tighter. The thunder of footsteps sounded out on the stairs as the hoard smashed themselves against the barricades leading up to your hide away, “Fuck…”

The Other kept a tight grip on you before he too heard the hoard. His eyes roved your face before he pushed you towards the window and fumbled with the clasps. He opened the window and you peered at the rain, and then at his face. He said nothing but you knew what he wanted. The fire escape. You ducked out of the window and perched yourself in the rain, underneath the stairs to try and shield yourself as the thrall of the Other slammed themselves against your defences. The Other closed the window and entered your room again, standing in the middle of the room, his eyes wide as his creatures swarmed inside, moaning and groping at the walls, floors and him. A few paused by the window before bumping into something else and leaving. None of them cared about the Other. They couldn’t smell the warm flesh of the living, so they filtered away, down the corridors and stairs, falling and smashing things as they went.

As the noises died down, you peered through the metal stairs and looked at the rushing water below. The zombies slowly filtered out of the building, back into the cooler moist air. You sighed as you looked at them, but shivered, sniffling in the rain and cold. A moment later, the window rattled, and the Other peered out into the rain, his black eyes haunting as they shone in the light of the lightning. With a click, he held out his hand, and you watched him reach to scoop his hair from his eyes. It was a human gesture. It made him seem human. Then the lightning flashed and lit up the blood covering his face, neck and arms. His fingernails were dirty with dried blood and mud, but he helped you into the window and clicked again softly, as though it was a noise of comfort. It unsettled you, holding his freezing cold hand as you shivered inside of the apartment. The door was closed, barricade replaced, and the chair pinned back in place at the door. He was still bleeding, and he blinked his eyes, sending two drops of blood down the stained red lines either side of his nose. With a deep breath, you grabbed a tissue from your little den and reached up to wipe the red streaks away from his face. The Other flinched at your warm touch, but let out a wheeze, letting you wipe his face free from blood and gunk.

You pulled away with a small gasp at the sight of his pale, bruised skin. The blood vessels around his eyes ran in spidery black patterns before they disappeared under the pale, thin bruised skin of his face. He looked dead. Deathly pale and gaunt. His face had lost a lot of the colour and life it once had, though he appeared no more tired than he used to. The large eye bags seemed to be a constant factor. You reached for his ID card on the floor and carefully handed it to him. The Other held open his hand and took it from your grasp, gurgling at the picture of himself, or who he used to be, with interest. You let him hold it and watched at he wiped at his nose with the tissue you had accidentally give him alongside it. In a mockery of what you did, he slid the tissue over his nose and cheeks before he gurgled and smile with blood clot covered teeth. He wasn’t human. You repeated that as he passed you the sticky tissue back. It was covered in blood and clots.

“Are you still in there Ji-woon?” You asked the Other quietly.

The Other shook his head as he raised the card again. It span in his grasp, giving you flashes of the image of his human face, “P-Please.” he wheezed at you, “...Help.”

“That is you. You can’t become him anymore.” You said carefully, softening the blow with a dab of the tissue under his eyes. He caught your wrist with a scowl, his unnatural eyes wiggling in their sockets, rolling left and right as he opened his mouth to expose his black dyed mouth full of clots.

“P... Please.” he wheezed again.

“I can...make you look like him but you’re not human anymore.” You tried to tug your wrist free to no avail.

“Look.” The Other held up the ID card and tapped it again before he let you go and looked at the red marks on your arm mournfully, “J-Ji...woon.”

“The fact you can even speak amazes me.” You confessed as you looked at the bruises and blood covering him. His clothes were dirty, matted and torn, exposing his arms which had been unnaturally made larger. He was a predator of muscle and smarts now, who desperately wanted to be human again, “I can help, so long as you can keep those zombies away from me, okay?”

The Other nodded, drooling as he pointed to his ears and mouth.

“Those wails, yes. You can control them and keep them away while I help you. That and you’re big enough to just tear them open...I saw an Other do that once.”

The Other blinked owlishly but nodded once before you rummaged for a bottle of water and pointed to the bathroom, “First let’s clean you up, huh?”

He only nodded and followed at your heels like a drooling, blood covered dog.

You managed to get a small basin to fill with water and then awkwardly got the Other to strip his clothes off. They were full of holes and disgusting. The neck was covered with blood and stiff with mud and blood. You bagged them and tied it closed as the Other stood, swaying on his dark bruise coloured feet. His mouth was dripping with drool again as he turned and looked at the water bowl in your hands.

“Come on. Sit in the tub.” You asked gently as you guided his cold body into the bath. He sat quietly, gurgling on his own blood as you fetch a towel and a small flannel. You dipped the flannel into the water and lathered it with soap before pressing it to his face. His black eyes quivered before he closed them peacefully and let you wipe the grime from his skin. Each swipe revealed more skin like cracked porcelain underneath the blood. The bruising spread from black coloured veins in his face and you were careful to clean around his nose and mouth before setting to the rest of him. It was even more embarrassing to get a zombie to clean his own privates, but something in him remembered and you left him to it before returning to try and scrub his hair.

Most of his hair was dead, the ends snapped and fraying in clumps. So, it was with a heavy heart that you washed it and let it soak with conditioner before snipping away most of the ends. It was shorter, in a wild mane over the top of his head and the shaved sides, but he seemed happy as he peered at himself in your small mirror. You tried to tame it backwards, but the shorter pieces of hair pinged out at awkward angles. He didn’t seem to care as he wiped at his own face, clicking happily at himself in the reflection in the grubby water. He was like a child almost. Entertained by bottles, colours and smells, despite the irony blood leaking from his nose again. He wiped it away with a tissue, wet hands dampening the balled-up paper before he peered over the side of the tub and watched you pull free a few sets of clothes.

“Here. You can’t wear those rags…even though I know you don’t get cold.” The Other stood and looked at the clothing before his hands reached for a khaki green fleece. He rubbed the soft material and happily pulled it over his head before he dressed his bottom half as well.

When he was finished and dressed you let him walk out of the bathroom. He was still bleeding from his eyes and nose but the cleanly appearance gave him an almost human look. The Other clicked and touched the top of his hair, feeling the strands before he looked at you with wide black eyes. In a sudden burst of speed, he was in your face, his teeth clacking together in front of your nose. Snap. Grind. Snap. Grind. Snap. He clicked his teeth rapidly in front of your face, drool stringing between his teeth and lips and dribbling out the corners of his mouth.

“You’re still one of them, huh?” You told him as he gurgled and coughed, fingers dancing by his sides as he twisted his head and twitched violently hard, teeth gnashing in his mouth, “You still want to eat me...”

There wasn’t a fix to his own nature. You watched him retch and fight himself before you moved through to your bedroom and rummaged through the boxes for something to use. You smiled when you found the ball gag. It was a simple thing, made of tough leather and a supple ball attached to simple metal rings. It fastened with a belt loop style fastening. It would be hard for him to chew through at least.

The Other looked at you curiously as you returned with the gag hanging from your fingers. Something in his face twisted, as though he maybe recognised the item, but you watched his fingers twitch again and knew it was the right choice.

“I know what you might think, but this is purely to stop you eating me, okay?” You told him as you opened the fastening and presented the ball to his lips. The Other cocked his head, blinked, and then opened his mouth to accept the ball. You watched him chew the ball like a horse does a bridle before he then settled and let you fasten the back closed tightly. He sniffed, drops of blood dripping from his nose as he ground his teeth into the gag, his mouth parted and the clicks he made gurgled and muffled. It would also stop him from turning on you and summoning a hoard of infected to tear you open. It was a double protective measure. The Other shifted and touched the cool leather wrapped around the back of his head. He could easily undo it if he wanted to, but he let his hands drop and plonked himself down by your door, peering back at you as he pointed to your little bed and tent.

“Don’t eat me in my sleep.” You joked. The Other rolled his eyes as you climbed into your layers of blankets and cushions. He didn’t look at you, but stared at the door, cross legged and clicking softly to himself around the gag in his mouth.

The next morning you woke up to the light in your eyes, and a clicking sound from by the window. As you opened your eyes you were greeted with a curious gurgle from the Other. His black eyes blinked bloody tears down his cheeks before he tilted his head and ground his teeth against the gag in his mouth. Blood painted the sides of his mouth and drool had dried in the corners of his mouth where the o-rings sat.

“Good morning to you too.” You groaned as the Other clicked in front of you and wiggled his jaw from side to side, his eyes looking over you. The exposed flesh had his mouth watering again, and you quickly hid the skin under a blanket before crawling past him and heading to the bathroom. The creature’s hungry eyes followed your legs, and the Other prowled across the wood after you, like a small dog, his gaze fixed on the exposed skin of your calves and ankles.

“M-M-Morn…ing-g.” The Other babbled around the gag in his mouth as his fingers inched along the wood, chasing after your feet. You stopped as his hand wrapped around your ankle. The cold fingers pressed into your flesh, testing the give before you dragged yourself free and slammed the door in his face. The Other grunted as his nose was smashed against the wooden door.

When you came back out later, dressed and clean, the Other was perched by the door again, sat on the balls of his feet, perched in a crouch as he looked at the handle. The knob was twitching. You took a deep breath and carefully reached for your axe, holding the handle tightly in your grasp. The handle twitched again before the door thumped and the latch unhooked. The Other watched the door creak open. A rotten hand curled around the wooden door, and you crept forwards a step before the Other clicked and launched himself at the arm. It took you a moment to realise that his mouth was full of the gag, but it was too late. The Other grappled the infected by the neck, throwing it against the column outside of the door before his arms bulged and he slammed its head backwards, once, twice, thrice, and painted the dirty white concrete with blood, bone and brains. The blood sprayed up the concrete as he continued hammering the creatures head backwards. The initial crack became a wet thud which dissolved into a slick noise of blood and flesh as the Other dug his hands into the cranium and dragged it open, scooping his bruised fingers into the goop. His teeth gnashed on the gag, and you covered your mouth as he pulled at his own cheeks, splitting the skin so he could stick his gore covered fingers into his mouth. He gurgled happily as he scooped the brain into his mouth, followed by the sickening crunch of the zombie’s femur under his foot. He twisted the legs free at the knee and punched his way through to the bone.

Rotten marrow dripped over his fingers, and he groaned sadly, tossing away the bleeding leg in favour of finishing the obliterated head. He struggled with the eyeballs, and you watched, gipping, as he weaved one behind his gag, through the tear at the corner of his lips, and popped it between his teeth.

“What the fuck…” You gasped behind the Other.

The Other’s eyes snapped to you, and he gurgled happily, covered in blood again, as he chewed his meal contently. As you watched him eat, you made your way back into your apartment, shaking as you uncovered a set of reigns. He was still eating as you came back and weaved them around his head and attached the ends to the O-rings of the gag. With a tilt of his head, he peered back over his shoulder and looked you in the eyes, his bloodied fingers stroking the leather up and down before you gave the back of the reigns a gentle tug.

The Other gave a grunt and a small cry, his black hair flying out of place as he tugged at the reigns, back towards his meal. His hands stretched towards the flesh, grabbing for the brains just out of reach.

“We made a deal.” You whispered as you hauled him backwards, “You want to be a human, Ji-woon, right?!”

The Other froze, his fingers pressed into the mess on the floor by the zombie’s head. They danced in the blood for a moment before he looked up at you, his eyes manic and his hairless brows furrowed.

“J-Ji…woooon.” He gurgled before he slumped backwards and grabbed at your trouser leg, his cold fingers burying themselves in the fabric. The Other gave a small wail, burying his head in your thigh as he stroked your legs and shuddered against you.

You reached down carefully and petted his hair, “Humans don’t eat…that. But we need you to live and… I know you’re not human, but we need to think about how this is going to work, okay?”

He didn’t acknowledge you, but leaned his head into your petting, pushing his choppy hair into your grasp as he clutched at you like a child.

“We’ll work through this mess, together, I promise…Ji-woon.”

#zombie x reader #male monster x reader #monster x reader #infected x reader #monster bf x reader #male zombie x reader #gender neutral reader #zombie x gender neutral reader #monster bf #monster reader insert #monster boy #monster romance #my writing #originaly work

191 notes · View notes

boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

Amoreena | Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: fluffiest fluff ever, jealous amoreena, jealous spencer, the LaMontagne family is in this too !!

word count: 3.8K

from the beginning <3

He went to work with Y/N on Tuesday to fill out all the paperwork and officially become an employee at the D.C Public Library. He signed a contract, he was switched over to a different government healthcare, answering a million calls and emails all morning, he was officially not an FBI agent.

They had lunch together in the park, buying some sandwiches and walking across the street to a picnic table to talk about their days while they ate. He liked her co-workers, they all were shocked to find out she was “married” to him after being single the whole time she’s worked there.

They had plans to go get Amoreena from school a few minutes early, before heading to meet his mother, not telling her about the plans unless Diana had a bad day last minute and couldn’t see them. So far, according to the nurses, she was lucid and having a great day waiting for them.

“So about yesterday morning,” Y/N changed the subject, biting her lip like she was avoiding this.

“What about it?”

“Amoreena really wants us to have a wedding, I was thinking we could go up to New York for fathers day and have another fake wedding?” Y/N hypothesized her plan, hoping for Spencer’s approval.

He couldn’t help but smile, about to answer when he got an email on his phone. “I’d love to do that, it would be nice to go on a vacation with just as the three of us.”

“You can check that,” she said, noticing he looked at his phone as it buzzed.

It was an email. Not from anyone he knew, it wasn’t about work or healthcare, it wasn’t his mom or Penelope sending him funny things from the internet…

No, it was from Taylor Swift. He tried his best to calm his facial reactions and micro-expressions so she’d think it was just something work-related. An emailed contract, updated health forms, nothing too serious.

To: Spencer Reid From: Taylor Swift Subject: Amoreena

Hey Spencer!

Portia reached out and said that your wife and daughter are huge fans and you were interested in some summer tickets in Virginia… I was thinking if you guys ever found yourself in Rhode Island you’d all want to come to my place, my doors always open for friends 💛 Love Taylor xx

“What?” Y/n asked, trying to read over his shoulder as he turned the phone away.

“It’s a surprise,” he said, locking his phone and putting it in his pocket to reply to her later. “Have you ever thought about a beach wedding? Rhode Island is pretty nice in June.”

She tilted her head as she bit back a smile, wondering what he was planning, “Amoreena will have us reenact the little mermaid 2 instead of Enchanted then, just fyi, but yeah that sounds fun, we should get a beach house on Airbnb for the weekend.”

“Okay, let me handle it all, you don’t need to plan a single thing, just show up with a dress?” Spencer offered, knowing how scared weddings made her now.

She kissed his cheek softly, resting her chin on his shoulder as she leaned over on him, “nothing fancy or crazy okay?”

“Define crazy?” He teased her… she really had no idea what was coming.

To: Taylor Swift From: Spencer Reid Subject: RE: Amoreena

Thank you so much for the quick response and generous offer, we were thinking of having a small elopement in Rhode Island with just the three of us over Father’s Day weekend if that works for you? Seven is the song we danced to at our intimate personal wedding, however, Amoreena’s pretty sad she didn’t get to witness it, that’s why we’re having another one with her. (And hopefully you!) Thank you for making my girls so happy over all the years that I didn’t know them yet, you’re probably their favourite person in the world, even more so than me! It would mean everything to them to meet you or see you in any way, you’re incredibly kind for this.

Thanks again, Spencer Reid x

He tried his best to be as calm and nice as possible in his response, still managing to rant a little even in text format. It was just how he communicated, either not at all or all at once. He was so excited for Y/N and Amoreena.

“So you said your mom has a scrapbook,” Y/N changed the subject after Spencer spent 5 minutes in silence, turned away from her as he answered an email.

“She does, she’s going to show you a lot of photos of me today,” he smiled at the fact she remembered.

“I know you want to tell her about Amoreena alone before we come in, so I made her something for her scrapbook, it’s back on my desk drying,” Y/N was so precious as she got excited, that same giddiness he see’s in Amoreena bursting through her.

“Okay, let’s go see it,” he put his phone in his pocket and followed her back across the street towards the library.

On some beautiful floral scrapbook paper, Y/N glued an array of photos of Amoreena from the beginning all the way to the museum trip last week.

A photo of her first round of IVF, dated February 19th, 2013. Exactly 1 month after he donated, she must have chosen his sample as soon as it entered the system, even a photo of the sample jar reading “sample 2319”, A photo of her crying in the garden with her grandma when she found it she was pregnant, wrapped in a big coat and surrounded by snow. Her pregnancy announcement being a baby sock on a stuffed toy Sully from Monsters Inc, "new door opening November 2013!" Amoreena has been surrounded by references to books and movies since the beginning.

There was a photo from the moment Amoreena was born, crying and brand-new, resting on Y/N’s chest as she sobbed, more beautiful than he’s ever seen her before, completely in love with the child she made.

Amoreena Margery Y/L/N - November 13th, 2013, 9:53 pm 7lbs 12oz, 21 inches of perfection

“Her middle name is Margery?”

“Yeah,” she smiled back at his ever glowing face, wondering why it was so important to him. “Like Margery Kempe, my grandma’s favourite.”

“She’s my mom’s favourite too,” Spencer couldn’t help but laugh, it was such a strange turn of events. He saw so much of his mother in Amoreena just for her to have a middle name related to her.

Y/N couldn’t believe it, “I’m so excited to meet her!”

“I just hope she’s okay today, truly,” Spencer worried. “She is my best friend and a great mother, don’t get me wrong. But some of the things she did to me on her bad days were scary, and I never want Amoreena to experience that.”

Y/N pulled him into a hug, “it’s hereditary isn’t it?” He nodded against her shoulder as she tried to soothe all the impending anxiety out of his body. “I’m not going anywhere, she won't have to raise herself and care for you, that’ll never happen to her.”

She guessed, and she was right. Reading his mind like she’s already been in there and watched all his trauma, she knew all the right words and how exactly to push his feelings away. She was sunshine clearing his grey skies once more, about to cause a drought so he’d no longer rain on his own parade. Marching beside him, hand in hand into the future.

—

They waited at the gate of Amoreena’s school, none of the other parents were waiting yet, giving Y/N a chance to show Spencer around the yard and tell him about her school. “She’s in senior kindergarten, she has a November birthday so I opted to send her in when she was 6 instead of 5, giving me an extra year of home pre-school.”

“That’s why she’s so smart, not my genes,” Spencer smiled, walking around the edge of the gate with her hand still in his.

“They want her to jump right into grade 5 next year, I said no, she deserves a childhood with children she doesn’t have to compete with or see her as a threat,” Y/N voice was stern even in the recounting like she knew from experience. “Because she’ll be 8 in November she’s going into grade 2 instead, then she’ll be in the same age range and mental level, but all her friends she knows in grade 1 will be in the same recess yard as her.”

“I went from kindergarten to grade 4, then I jumped to grade 6 when I was 9 and I graduated high school at 13, it was terrible,” Spencer agreed, not knowing if he had a place in the decision but wanting her to know he agreed with it.

“Let’s go inside and get her,” Y/N smiled at him, understanding his meaning perfectly and dragging him into the school.

“Hello miss Ludlough,” Y/N beamed as she entered the main office with her arm tucked under Spencers, showing him off slightly.

“Y/N, good afternoon! Do you need me to call that little angel down early?” The secretary was a lovely older woman, wrinkled and happy as she smiled back.

“No, I just need to get some paperwork to put her dad in the files?” Y/N surprised Spencer with that and he almost stopped breathing.

“Really?” He whispered, capturing her attention as her eyes twinkled up at him.

“I’d like you on her emergency contacts, if they can’t get ahold of me I’d like you to be with her,” Y/N confirmed, patting his shoulder softly as Miss Ludlough handed her a few forms.

Spencer signed everywhere he needed to, handing them his licence to be photocopied into her file for proof when he picked her up in the future. He was glad to see there was a system, that they cared for his little girl and she wasn’t going to be going home with anyone who wasn’t in that file. And if she did he had no problem hunting them down and getting her back in whatever way he had to…

He shook the thought out of his head as it arises, reminding himself that that isn’t who he is now and she would be fine. They lived in a happy world where bad things didn’t happen.

Y/N’s hand rubbing his lower back helped, he stood straight again and pushed the papers over the desk, smiling as he officially became her father on 3 different sheets of paper. That was as real as it could get.

“Spence?” He heard an all to familiar voice from behind him.

Turning to see JJ and Will smiling with wide arms, waiting for his embrace. “What are you doing here?” She asked him, voice high as she was clearly shocked.

He walked into her arms and held her quickly, “I’m here with my wife,” breaking the news to her in the most casual way possible. “Picking up our kid.”

“Y/N?” Will noticed her then, “holy shit, you’re the wife?”

She nodded with a smile, hugging will quickly like she has known him for years, “how are you, cowboy?”

Spencer and JJ looked at each other incredibly confused, JJ clearly didn’t know her so how did Will?

“Will and I have been on what, 6 school trips together? Michael and Amoreena are buddies,” Y/N explained with a soft smile, “I knew Henry and Michaels's names sounded familiar…”

“Nini thinks I’m a cowboy,” Will laughed lightly, smiling at Y/N the way he did at JJ and something in Spencer almost snapped thinking about Will being the one person between him and the girl he liked, once again.

Only this time she was his wife and not the cute media liaison who had no interest in him until he came out of prison.

“She was very upset when she found out that Will was already married, she wanted us to be Woody and Jessie from toy story,” Y/N had no problem ranting about how their kids got along and how good of friends they had become over the last 2 years of school trips.

Y/N noticed the anxiety in Spencer’s eyes as he pulled away from JJ and made sure no one was touching him, “luckily, our little girl’s got the best daddy in the whole world now and all her dreams came true.”

“She sure does,” JJ agreed, “Hey, I gave your mom all those books you gave me for the boys, when you were away, so she had something to keep remembering you with, you should give them to Amoreena.”

“I will, we’re going to see her tonight,” he was able to push past the feelings and enjoy the moment of his friends meeting his wife, even if the title was just pretend.

“I’m so excited,” Y/N shook her hands the same way Amoreena did, stepping into Spencer's space and wrapping her arm around him. “Can we pick her up from the room Miss Ludlough?”

“Sure thing, do you want me to call down and say Mikey’s parents are here too?”

“Yes, please,” JJ smiled over the counter.

With the four of them walking down the hall together to get their kids, Spencer felt like he was sleepwalking. Too many emotions were running through his veins to feel real, but then Y/N took his hand in hers and rested her cheek against his arm as they walked and he was fine.

She tugged on his arm and waited in the hallway while JJ and Will entered the classroom first, “what’s wrong, she’ll know you’re upset?”

He sighs, shaking the stupidity out of his mind. “I had a huge crush on JJ before they got pregnant with Henry, and when I came back from prison she told me she had always loved me and it got weird for a bit and I’m still kinda mad when I see Will bond with the people I love.”

“I was wondering when you’d get possessive,” she teased him, “I’m yours and I wouldn’t have your ring on if I wasn’t, no matter how another man looks at me, I only love you.”

“I’m sorry, I know.”

“It’s okay, you’re not used to this are you?” She saw right through it. “Am I your first real girlfriend?”

“Kinda, Maeve and I never even really met until she was kidnapped,” he admits and it sounds so childish in his mind.

“Okay we’ll talk about this later cause that sounds like a good story I should know,” she tried to smile, standing on her tiptoes to peck his lips softly before smiling more. “Let’s go get your kid?”

“Let's,” his smile returned.

They turned the corner into the vibrant room, Amoreena was talking to Will when she noticed Spencer at the door, running towards him and almost pushing Will over to do so, “Dad!”

He picked her up and snuggled right into the crook of her little neck, giving her the biggest hug he’s ever given and not realizing just how much he missed her until she was back in his arms again. His baby, the littlest life he’s ever held this close to his heart.

When he put her down he noticed all the women’s eyes were on him, hands over their hearts at the pure display of affection between father and daughter. They all saw him as her dad, they had no reason not to, giving him all the attention he’s never received before.

“What are you doing here?” Her tiny voice asked as she beamed at him with wonder.

He kneeled in front of her to get on her eye level when Michael came running over, “Hi uncle Spencer!” He tackled him into a hug.

“Uncle Spencer?” Amoreena’s brow furrowed as she scowled at the boy taking her dad’s attention, she pulled Michael back by his shirt. “That’s my dad!”

“Amoreena, honey,” Spencer tried not to laugh, she was definitely his kid, “Michels mom, JJ, is my best friend from work and I’m his older brother Henry’s godfather, they’re your cousins.”

She looked at him like he was insane, “what’s a godfather?”

“If anything bad happens to his mommy or daddy and they can’t take care of them, they’ll come live with us,” it was the simplest answer, “I’m not their father, I’m yours.”

She nodded and hugged him again, sticking her tongue out at Michael in the process, “why are you here?” She repeated the question.

Y/N was standing over him with a hand on his shoulder then, “we’re taking you to meet your other grandma.”

Amoreena started to shake with excitement, moving her hands and grinding her teeth as she smiles, shrieking with excitement, “I have another grandma!?”

JJ was watching from the corner of the room, secretly filming it on her phone for the rest of the team to see Spencer with his baby. A sight many of them never thought they’d ever see as he slowly lost hope, losing himself somewhere along the way and no longer wanting to accept their help. This was a big moment for the team too, their little brother was finally happy.

—

In the car, Spencer sat with Amoreena in the back seat so he could tell her everything about her new grandma. Or as Amoreena wanted to call her, Princess Diana, “I can’t believe you’re actually royalty!”

They all laugh at how her fantastic little brain works, “you can’t tell anyone that Princess Diana is in DC okay? It’s a government secret!” Y/N teased from the driver's seat.

“I’m like Princess Mia!” She screamed at the top of her lungs and Spencer was astounded she could be that loud.

“Okay, okay, not that loud! we can't scare any of the people who live here. They like it to be calm and quiet so the patients can be happy,” Y/N settled her down, “Dad is going to go in and tell grandma all about us for a little while and then we’ll go meet her okay? He wants to make sure she’s happy today before we go in.”

With that, they were pulling into his mother's care facility and he felt like he was going to be sick with excitement. He used to visit his mother with the fear of rage and disappointment in her eyes, he was too proud to let his anxiety take that from him today.

He kissed her forehead before getting out, Y/N handed him the scrapbook pages through the window and he leaned inside to give her a kiss too. Receiving a disgusted groan from Amoreena, he pulled away and walked into the building while they found a place to park.

She was waiting for him in the garden, sitting at a picnic table with her scrapbook and gifts for Amoreena. “Spencer!”

“Hey mom,” he smiled as he hugged her, “how are you feeling?”

“Fantastic, where is this family you made?” She was so ready to meet them, truly there inside her mind and willing to learn more about this life he was making.

“Sit down first,” he said softly, taking a seat beside her at the table and placing the scrapbook page on the table. “This is my Amoreena.”

Her fingers glided over the words, “Margery,” she repeated her middle name with a smile. “She has a sperm donor for a father?”

“I’m a sperm donor, mom,” he smiled softly as he broke the news.

She turned to him with shock, “she’s yours?”

“We think so, so that’s what we’re telling people, she’s mine regardless.”

Diana wrapped him up in another hug, “I’m so happy for you Spencer. You always deserved a perfect family, I’m sorry I couldn’t do that for you. I hope your dreams come true with her.”

Just like that Amoreena and Y/N were rounding the corner and walking over towards their table. She had a huge smile on her face and a card in her hand, walking right up to Diana and handing it to her.

“Hi, grandma, I’m Amoreena,” she introduced herself politely before stretching her arms out for a hug.

Diana wrapped her up in the softest little hug, trying not to cry in front of her brand new granddaughter, which was fine because Spencer was the one crying. Turning away from them so Amoreena wouldn’t see as Y/N patted his arm with a smile.

They were fast friends, Y/N and Diana bonding over Margery Kempe and while Amoreena opened the two gifts Diana got for her, a simple colouring book and Spencer's original copy of Matilda from when he was a child. She sat down in the grass and read it while they all caught up, lost in her own little world.

It was the most perfect afternoon, just him and his family, happier than he’s ever dreamed he could be.

—

He checked his phone one last time before bed, Y/N was sitting against the headboard reading a book and so deep in the story, he knew she wouldn’t be able to read over his shoulder.

Scrolling through everything from the day to see that yes, there was a response from Taylor Swift. It felt insane, but he opened it and started to read her plans.

Spencer!! You’re so sweet, I’m sure you make them incredibly happy! I’d love to have you stay in the guest house here, and I’m ordained if you need someone to make it real and official ♥︎ let me know what I can do, I’d love to help in any way to make some fairytale dreams come true! Taylor xx

Smiling like an idiot, he closed his phone. He’d reply tomorrow, till then he was going to snuggle into his wife and appreciate their time together.

She lifted an arm to let him lay against her chest, “today she woke up and decided to be an explorer, the little girl with the wildest imagination stormed out of her home and towards the unknown part of her land. It was her destiny to travel across the bridge and unite the people beyond the field, towards the pond that was swallowed by willow trees,” Y/N read the grandmother's thoughts from the page.

“With her wooden sword, she sliced and diced on the ivy that surrounded the gate. Freeing the hinges and allowing the entrance to swing open, unlocking a new area of the world for her mind to wander.

“For what the regular human eye saw, Amoreena saw it times a million. Every colour and then some, new colours appearing in the morning glow as she stared at the dew on the leaves she just chopped through. She saw the world in a way that made everything exciting, there was never a bad thing, only good things with interesting quirks.

“She passed every mushroom and toadstool, every strange-looking tree and human-shaped moss ball, greeting them with a good morning as she strolled through the once-forbidden forest. Her adventure only beginning, the objective not yet known.”

“Your grandma could see the future,” Spencer whispered as she turned the page, “that’s our wonderful little girl’s mind in words.”

Y/N kissed the top of his head, “our wonderful little girl.” She repeated the words, loving the way they sounded on his tongue as much as he loved how she said it.

Taglist: @shemarmooresfedora @spookyspence @spencers-dria @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #amoreena

137 notes · View notes

headcans-oneshots-and-stuff · 4 years

Text

Changes... (Batsis OS)

Warning: Angst, self-degradation, OOC Bruce, Angst again, body-shaming (mentioned) Word count: 3094 Summary: Your family notices that you start to change. When you deny the changes they start to investigate... What they find doesn’t make them happy.

This was requested by an astonishing Anon: Hi! First of all, I love your blog! I was wondering if you could write about the bat family defending their bat sister from a fat-shaming boyfriend. Please and Thank you!! 😁 A/N: This went way further and into a completely different direction than I had expected...But I still like it and I hope so will you. It’s not really about the defending and more about the consoling, but I added some defending (more or less) at the end. I also knowingly tried not to actually say what body type the reader has so that everyone can imagine they’re own version. Body shaming can go in both directions after all.

Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. They couldn't quite put their finger on it, but something about the way you acted and held yourself seemed different to your family. Other than one would think it wasn't one of your siblings who lived with you who noticed it first. Maybe it was because they actively tried to ignore it, or it was because they didn't want you to be different than usual, but nonetheless, the person who noticed first was Duke. Ever since he became the signal, ever since he became part of the family, you, as the heart and soul of Wayne Manor, made it your personal quest to make him feel included. And as part of this quest, the two of you met up bi-weekly for- how you called them- "brother-sister-dates". You always made 100% sure to cancel everything else in order to attend. So when you cancelled one, saying you didn't feel well and that you'd make it up to him the next time, he was confused. But it wasn't enough to worry him. But when you cancelled the next date because you had "other business that just couldn't wait," was when it started to bother him. But he didn't have any real proof that there was something wrong so he couldn't do anything but mentioned it to the rest of the family when they were going through Gotham on your day off.

It was then that the rest started to realize it too. At first, they saw little changes. That you went to your room almost every day as soon as you came home. That you sat there quiet when it was time to eat dinner. That your smile stopped reaching your eyes. It was almost uncanny. But when they asked you about it, you smiled and waved it off. Said things like: "Don't be silly, everything is alright," or "Don't worry your pretty little heads, I'm fine." That calmed them for a while, but it still gnarled on their minds. But then the big changes came. You started to stay out after school longer, coming back in the evening saying- much to Alfred dismay- that you've already eaten. You asked Bruce to be excused from Patrol for a while, saying that you didn't feel like you were on top of your game and since he also realized that something was wrong, but didn't know what to do about it, he allowed it, saying that a few weeks without you, while you were training, wouldn't be a problem. The biggest change where your clothes. You usually wore things with fun, colourful prints on them. Dresses with roses and tulips. Skirts with numbers and signs. Blouses with Avocados on them. And you usually wore fitting pumps or sneakers. Some people would compare the way you dressed to how they imagined a modern fairy to dress. But now... Now you wore dull oversized sweaters over duller oversized shirts with grey, black or dark-blue jeans and black shoes. Jason recognized some sweaters to be his, others looked like they could be from Bruce himself. It was like you were trying to disappear in the fabric. But again, when they asked you, you found a way to escape the question. It was then that they had enough. Something was very, very wrong with you and they intended to fix it. They wanted their sunshine back. Their Y/N. And so the trailing began. After a rather violent fight about who would be the best choice, it was Cass who was waiting on the roof of Gotham Acadamy for the bell to ring and you to leave school. What happened after wasn't what she expected. When you stepped out of the building there was a boy walking along with you. He had his arm around your shoulder and smiled at you, but- even though you also smiled- your whole posture told Cass that you felt uncomfortable and inferior. The two of you walked to an old, rusty car parked on the school ground and got into it, immediately driving away. It was easy for your sister to keep up with the car, but something bothered her. Here and there she caught glimpses of you on the passenger seat and there was a darkness in your eyes that made her blood boil. The car stopped at an apartment building in one of Gotham's nicer neighbourhoods and the boy, who held your wrist tightly and dragged you along as if you were an in-obedient dog, entered and drove with the elevator to one of the higher level apartments. With some swift movements, Cass found herself standing on one of the windowsills that allowed insight into a room that seemed to belong to a boy your age and was this highly likely to belong to whoever you went with after school. Her thesis proved positive when the door opened and the boy, still dragging you by the wrist, came storming in. After he had closed the door he finally let you go and Cass noticed how you started rubbing the spot where his hand had been. Her anger started bubbling up further, but she couldn't intervene. She watched as you sat down onto his bad, seemingly making yourself as small as possible, while the boy ravaged through his room. Talking constantly and keeping on making a mess with his things, seemingly no real goal in mind. Sometimes it seems like he asked you questions, but he never waited for an answer, only looking at you annoyed before getting back to what he was doing before. That went on for almost an hour, now and then he stopped on one spot for a few minutes, playing with something or just looking at you with some unidentifiable look in his eyes. You never said a word, never moved either. Then he finally stopped and sat down beside you on his bed. His hand found yours, but you made no move to escape his grin. In fact, you returned the hold and kissed him on his cheek. Cass's eyes widened and she was utterly bewildered when the boy turned his head and his lips met yours in a kiss that would be sweet if the boy wasn't such a brute about it. The hand that didn't grab yours moved to your thigh and harshly grasped it. Cass's hand was raised and she was close to crashing the window and getting you out of his grasp, but then the boy stopped kissing you and moved away. He looked...disappointed. Cass saw that he sighed and she saw the look of displeasure in his eyes and the look of regret in yours. You said something and Cass read the words "I'm sorry," from your lips. That seemed to anger the boy even further and the following conversation- or rather monologue- was loud enough for Cass to hear it through the window. The family really had to do something about this situation.

The sun was already leaving the sky when you came home. You hadn't noticed Cass following you on your way, nor did you notice the eerie quiet filling the manor. You only noticed something was off when you got to your room and found your dad sitting on your bed. He was looking at a picture that usually sat on your bedside table. It depicted a scene that happened on a stormy fall day a few years earlier. You had made big plans to go to a fair with all your siblings, but they all had to cancel because of the weather. The disappointment had been crushing, but Damian, Cass and Tim wouldn't let you stay so sad. They came into your room, told you to get dressed in rainproof clothes and immediately left again. When you came outside in your bright yellow rain boots, jacket and hat, you were welcomed by the sight of your family in matching rain outfits in all different shades of black, red and, in Steph and Babara's case, purple. That was how it came to the picture. On it, you were sitting on Jason's shoulders, your arm around Damian who sat on Dick, with the rest of your family in similar positions beside you, all of you soaking wet. Soaking wet, but happy. Bruce noticed your presence and looked up, meanwhile laying the picture back at its place, a sad smile on his face. He patted the space beside him. You sighed, but complied with his silent demand and sat down beside him. As soon as you were beside him he embraced you with one arm and pulled you to him, laying his chin onto your head and keeping you close. You reciprocated the hug warily, not quite knowing what this could be about. Had something happened? Did someone die? were the thoughts that immediately filled your head. After a few minutes, Bruce let go of you again but kept his hand on your shoulder. "Is-Is everything okay?" you asked worried, your brows furrowed. "Don't worry, everyone's fine, I'm not here to give you any bad messages." "Then why are you here?" you asked, now rather confused by the situation. Your father wasn't a cold man or anything like that, but he wasn't the most emotional person either. you were happy to get a hug or an "I'm proud of you" once in a while, but that was how things were with him. "I noticed," he started, but seemed to wrestle for words, "that you have been absent lately." You flinched, hoping he wouldn't notice, but knowing that he most likely did. It wasn't easy to hide things from the 'greatest detective in the world'. "It's really nothing, okay?" you said softly as if you were the one who comforted him, "I'm a teenager. I'm just going through some girl stuff right now." That was your ace. The 'girl-card'. Something Bruce couldn't quite refute and would hopefully get him off your back for the time being. He would most likely ask one of your sisters to ask you again a few days from now, but you would be able to think something up until then. Now you just wanted some peace. "I know that you're lying," blocked Bruce your excuse with a hesitating voice. It threw you off. "What?" "Listen, I know I should've tried to talk to you first, but," he sighed and you noticed that he took his hand away, "I asked one of your siblings to follow you." Your eyes widened, while what Bruce just said sunk in. "You- You did what?" you asked, your voice trembling dangerously. "We all noticed that something is wrong with you. I didn't know what else to-" "How could you!" you screamed, jumping off of the bed and backing away from Bruce. "Y/N, listen-" "NO! YOU LISTEN! IT'S MY LIFE AND, AS LONG AS I DON'T WANT IT TO BE, IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS WHAT'S GOING ON INSIDE IT!" Now Bruce stood up, trying not to seem threatening, but still towering over you. "Y/N, we are just very worried okay? You're keeping things from us, then you start your wardrobe, and now-" he stopped and looked at you unhappily. His eyes were full of sadness and something that you identified as pity. Seeing that expression cooled you down a bit. Your trembling shoulders coming to a rest. Bruce sat down again and looked at his hands as if you were a wild animal that could be driven away when you got looked at wrong. You stayed where you were, maybe not as furious as before, but still angry. For a while, it stayed silent in your room, neither of you moving from where you were. It was as if time stood still. It was Bruce who broke that stasis. "I know about the boy." Your breath hitched and you crossed your arms in front of your chest, thinking that you knew where this was supposed to go. "I wanted to tell you, okay? We only become an item a few weeks ago, I was still searching for a way," you said somewhat bitterly. "That's not what I meant." "It's not?" now you were confused again. "Then- then what do you mean?" "Cass heard what he said to you. What he called you." Your heart skipped a beat and not in a good way. You wanted to say something, but the words got stuck in your throat and all that was left were the tears build up in your eyes. Bruce was still not looking at you, but you noticed that he was clenching his fist angrily. "How could you just let him say these things to you?" You managed to swallow the lump of unsaid words in your throat, finding the energy to say something. "It's not like that... He- He really loves me," you mumbled, still not being able to fight the tears that now threatened to spill. Your dad finally looked at you with a look of utter unbelief plastered over his face. "How can you think that?" "He told me," you mumbled weakly, avoiding his eyes and sliding down onto the floor below you. "Y/N, sweety, please look at me." You kept looking at the floor, not wanting to see the disappointment in his eyes. "Please," he said again and his shoes came into your field of view. You took a deep breath and rubbed over your eyes to clean them from the tears that fogged your sight. Then you looked up and met the loving, caring eyes of your father. Not the disappointment you expected, you were used to lately. "Y/N you can talk to me." Now the sobs started to shake your body. "He said he loves me," you stated again, this time louder, shaking your head. Bruce sighed again, clearly not happy about the situation and still worried, and sank down beside you, but still keeping some distance between you. "Do you love him," he asked the question that you had been frightened off. "I do," you said firmly, before looking at your hands and at the still slightly red mark on your wrist, before you paddled back: "I-I don't know. I don't think so." "Then why are you with him? It is okay to change your mind, it is okay if you change. You don't have to be with him just because you liked him a week ago, you know that right?" You didn't answer, you didn't look at him, you didn't move. "Y/N?" "I know... but-" you shake your head and returned to your previous silence. "But what?" "It doesn't matter if I love him. I can be happy that he likes me." Bruce was speechless at what you said but quickly caught himself again. "What do you mean?" The sobs started again and you buried your face in your hands. "You know what he says, what he thinks about me... about my body. He says that no one could ever like someone like me." It was hard for Bruce to understand your muffled speech, but the parts that he understood combined with what Cass had told him about was enough for him to know what you were talking about. "Oh honey," he mumbled and engulfed you in his arms, pulling your sobbing form into his chest "Why would you ever believe him?" Even though he asked a question, he knew not to expect an answer. And he knew it anyways. When someone you liked, even if it was not romantically yet, told you again and again that you were too fat/thin, ugly, a disgrace... After a while, you'd start to believe it. "I know this might sound hard to believe right now, but you're beautiful the way you are. You don't have to change for someone who doesn't deserve you. And if you ever feel the way you do right now, I want you to know that you can come to me, come to everyone in this family, and we will tell you just how amazing you are," Bruce mumbled into your hair, loud enough for you to hear, in a soothing manner. As if on cue the door fell open and your siblings all came tumbling in. And seeing the great vigilantes of the bat family laying on top of each other on the floor managed to get you to let out a mix between a sob and a giggle. Maybe it was time for you to come back to your family...

After the talk with Bruce (and later your siblings and Alfred who all wanted to let you know just how much they loved you), you stayed home for a few days with your father's permission to get back to your old self, not answering a single call or message from your (now Ex-)boyfriend. But you couldn't stay out of school forever so your siblings made a plan. They'd deal with that douche of the equivalent of human trash. Obviously (since some of them were grown-ups with jobs and responsibilities) not all of them were able to come, but the next Monday morning when you, Damian and Cass left the car and stepped onto the school ground, Jason, Tim, Duke and Harper were already waiting near the brick wall surrounding Gotham Academy. When they saw the three off you, they came over and immediately encircled you like your small private army. You slightly rolled your eyes at them, knowing that they couldn't just walk with you through school the whole day, but smiled nonetheless. That smile faltered when you saw him standing in the entrance, looking angry. Around the same time you caught sight of him, he saw you and immediately started to stomp over to you, seemingly not noticing the people surrounding you. His eyes were focused on you and made your skin freeze, it was like you were fixed to the ground. Harper, who had been walking behind you, noticed your lack of movement and followed your eyes. "Is that him?" she asked loud enough for your other siblings to notice. You nodded. "Damian, take Y/N to her first class please, the others and I have a few things we want to talk about with that jackass," stated Jason with no room for discussion. Not that Damian cared who tried to anyways: "But I also want-" "I appreciate the enthusiasm, but we just want to scare him, maybe rough him up a bit, but not kill him." Damian scoffed, but still took your hand uncharacteristically soft and walked with you to another entrance to the building, taking you away from the riot that was to follow. Let's just say that your Ex never bothered or even talked to you the way he did before (or in general) again.

782 notes · View notes

ineffable-snowman · 4 years

Text

Fic: For Want of Snow

Hi @smeltster, this is your gift for the GO Events gift exchange @good-snowmens. Happy Good Snowmens to you!

Thank you very much to @artemis for beta-reading!

***

For Want of Snow

“You don’t have snow anymore in London,” Aziraphale had said wistfully one day while they were strolling through St. James’s Park, Crowley with a black umbrella and Aziraphale with a tartan one to protect themselves against the steady drizzle.

Personally, Crowley could do without the snow. The usual London weather in December – grey, cold, rainy – was bad enough. Nevertheless, he had filed that information away for later, and when he came across a snow globe in a shop (as you do), he bought one for Aziraphale.

“Oh, how delightful,” Aziraphale said happily as Crowley presented him with the snow globe and removed a stack of books from the coffee table to place the snow globe there. Crowley, in turn, removed the books from the floor and squeezed them onto the shelves.

“Need to keep things tidy,” he offered as a mumbled explanation at Aziraphale’s questioning glance, all the while trying to forget how, just a few months ago, all the books and sheets of paper on the floor had so quickly caught fire. Then he flopped down on his sofa, half listening to Aziraphale prattle on about some theatre production he wanted to see, but mostly glaring at the blessed fireplace to make it very clear that it was never meant to host a fire again.

“Are you quite alright?” Aziraphale’s voice jolted him out of his glaring.

“Yeah, sure. Just cold.” Nothing unusual about snakes disliking the cold, right?

Aziraphale immediately got up to fuss, offered him a woollen tartan blanket (which he naturally refused), and a cup of tea (which he allowed).

“I could light a fire,” Aziraphale suggested.

“No! No, not necessary, I’m already much warmer, this-” Crowley sloshed some tea over his trousers and suppressed a hiss “-works wonders. What were you saying about that musical play?”

The distraction worked – for now. It did nothing to make the images of the bookshop on fire in Crowley’s mind disappear, though.

Crowley’s gaze kept drifting to the snow globe where the snowflakes floated dreamily down onto the little house between pine trees. The brightly lit windows looked cosy, and an idea started to form in Crowley’s head.

***

Hell used to hold Crowley up as an example for efficient evil deeds organisation. What he was planning now was not exactly evil but it warranted the same kind of attention to detail (maybe even more).

He started subtly, making the Bentley play White Christmas whenever he drove Aziraphale somewhere. Then he placed adverts at the places Aziraphale frequented: picturesque images of snowy villages and woods, vacation homes, cottages to rent, property for sale.

“You know, it would be nice to have a White Christmas again,” Aziraphale said when they were sitting, once again wet from the London rain, in the Bentley and the song Winter Wonderland began to play.

Crowley hummed his agreement. “Makes it really Christmassy, snow. Very festive.”

“It’s a shame neither of us took weather management courses, back in Heaven.”

“Yeah, would’ve been more helpful than choir practice.”

“Oh, don’t remind me!”

Any other day Crowley gladly would have taken this chance to bitch about Heaven with Aziraphale but now he needed to focus on his mission. The car in front of them stopped without knowing why, right next to a travel agency with a big poster in their shop window that showed a cottage in a winter landscape.

“You know,” Crowley said offhandedly, “there are places where you could have a White Christmas.”

“Yes, in Lappland or Siberia. I’m sure it would be wonderful to go there but you know how I love the English Christmas traditions.”

“There are English places where you could have a White Christmas.”

“Oh? Where would that be?”

“Tadfield. For example.”

“Really? How do you know?”

“Uh.” From very thorough research about which part of the UK had the highest probability of a White Christmas. “Had a chat with the Antichrist’s father. Not Satan, obviously, still not on speaking terms since you know. His human father. Anyway, they’ve had White Christmases for several years now, he said.”

“How lovely. Tadfield is not very far, maybe we could go there on Christmas Day for a walk in the snow.”

Crowley shrugged. “Could rent a cottage for Christmas.”

Aziraphale turned to him, a worried look on his face, and shit, shit, shit, too fast. The song changed midway (I’m dreaming of ice in the sunshine) and the snowy cottage on the poster turned into a tropical island. Crowley wanted to hit himself for being such an idiot. Why couldn’t he leave things be? Things were fine now, why couldn’t he just be satisfied with what he had?

“I meant only so we could have a place to warm up,” he said quickly and honked at the car in front of him to finally get moving, for Heaven’s sake! “You know, after a walk in the snow, you need a warm place where you can have a hot drink and I don’t think they have cafés in Tadfield, so.”

“Oh. Yes.” Aziraphale hesitated. “Good.” He cleared his throat. “We could do that.”

***

It took careful planning. First of all he needed to rent a cottage. Not just any cottage, the perfect cottage in the perfect location. A cottage that was also potentially for sale.

Then he kidnapped the holiday decorator at Harrods (but paid him generously, so it wasn’t really kidnapping) to hang up Christmas lights, holly, garlands, and of course to put up and decorate a huge Christmas tree. Crowley visited the cottage himself to make sure the decorations were appropriate, paying special attention to the angel ornaments because they must not resemble certain archangels. While he was there, he also gave the Christmas tree a very strong talking to not to shed a single needle.

Then he brought everything you needed for a perfect Christmas, which was mostly food and drinks. There was some minor blackmail involved when he bullied the waitress at Aziraphale’s favourite café to give away their hot chocolate recipe. He needed three days of practice and several cartons of milk until he got it right without any miracles. (It was the first and hopefully last time his kitchen ever experienced any real cooking.)

On the morning of the 25th, Crowley was thoroughly exhausted but positive that his demonic plan was flawless. What could go wrong? Still he hovered in front of the bookshop’s door, wondering if he should ring the bell, if Aziraphale had forgotten their plan, if all of this was a phenomenally bad idea, if –

Aziraphale opened the door and smiled at him. “Ah, good morning.” He was wrapped in a thick coat and a fluffy woollen scarf. “Merry Christmas!” He handed Crowley a present.

“Ah.” Crowley’s hands moved of their own accord and took it. So that was a thing now. They gave each other Christmas presents now. “Thanks.” Why had no one informed him? He did not have anything for Aziraphale. (Did a cottage count?)

“Open it. You’re going to need it today.”

Crowley carefully opened the golden wrapping paper. He was not prepared for this, the idea that Aziraphale had chosen something for him and then wrapped it and put a bow on it. It was not even midday and things were already getting out of his control.

Inside the box were a thick red scarf and a pair of earmuffs. Crowley would have complained about the fluffiness of the earmuffs but at least they were black and it was his first ever Christmas present from Aziraphale, meaning he would kill anyone who tried to take the earmuffs away from him.

“Ah-hm, guess they could be useful,” he said and Aziraphale’s face erupted into a happy smile.

“Oh, I hoped you would like the colour. You never wear proper winter clothing. It’s no wonder you’re always cold…”

Crowley drove them out of the city while Aziraphale prattled on about bearskins and muffs. Crowley would occasionally comment with a hum but was mostly wondering what it meant that Aziraphale had decided to give him a Christmas present and worried about him staying warm and had gone to the trouble of choosing colours which Crowley liked.

“Oh dear, is the tape deck not working again?”

“Hm?” Crowley startled. The Bentley was playing Crazy Little Thing Called Love. As it had when they had driven off, thirty minutes ago. Crazy Little Thing Called Love was not a thirty-minute-long song, was it?

“I thought Adam had repaired it,” Aziraphale said.

“No, it should-” Crowley thumped against the disc compartment until it played Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture “-definitely be working.”

“Bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

The music that was dramatic enough for this day had not been composed yet but Crowley let Aziraphale choose another CD and resolved to pay more attention to the music from now on.

Fortunately, the drive was not that long and they soon arrived at the outskirts of Tadfield where the cottage was located. The village was in walking distance but far enough away so they had their privacy.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said softly.

Crowley suppressed a flinch. Did the cottage look too similar to the house in the snow globe? Was it too obvious? “You don’t like it?”

“No, I mean, yes, I like it, it is absolutely wonderful. What a lovely place you have found!”

Crowley let out the breath he had been holding. Aziraphale liked it. He thought the place Crowley had found absolutely wonderful. His plan was working.

“Right! Let’s have a look inside?” Crowley got out of the car and winced when he stepped into the snow. He had forgotten to miracle his shoes waterproof. He would fix them later. For now he opened the front door for Aziraphale, proud to show him the festively decorated interior.

“Oh, look at that, how gorgeous! But who decorated the place like this?”

Oh no. Too much? “Er, it was just…a Christmas…special…deal. To get the house like this. Didn’t know it would be so bright and festive.” Crowley made sure to make a properly disgusted face.

“It is marvellous. Makes you want to stay inside all day. But we are here for the snow, of course. But we must sit down here and have a drink later and really appreciate the decorations.”

Good, Aziraphale liked the interior and wanted to stay, just like he was supposed to. Crowley ticked it off his mental list.

Now to the unpleasant part: snow.

At least Crowley had his new scarf and earmuffs. That did not keep his fingers warm or stop his nose from running, though. Also, walking in the snow was a nuisance. It was exhausting, his shoes and trousers got wet and he stumbled or slipped every few meters. But Aziraphale had flushed cheeks and commented happily on this and that, and it was really annoying and ridiculous what Crowley was willing to do to make that bastard smile.

Aziraphale, naturally, walked on the snow, almost gliding over it as if it was nothing, just leaving the faintest of footprints whereas Crowley trudged a few feet behind, wheezing and sometimes blessing at the bloody snow. Crowley knew that, technically, he should be able to do the same, what with angels and demons being of the same stock. But he also knew that he really needed to know that fact for it to work, and his brain refused to cooperate. Stupid brain, stupid snow.

“It has been some time, hasn’t it?” Aziraphale had stopped and was waiting for Crowley to catch up. He offered Crowley his arm, and Crowley was not against linking arms or holding hands, not at all, but this was humiliating and he wanted to be the one to extend a hand… but there was no way he was going to decline such an offer. Grumbling, he linked arms with Aziraphale and let the angel pull him up.

“There you go.” Aziraphale patted his arm and smiled at him and Crowley was glad he was wearing his sunglasses because getting such an open smile from up so close was shocking. (Also because the snow was blinding.) “You’ve done it before, so there’s no reason why it shouldn’t work now. You just have to believe in it.”

Crowley snorted. Believe in it, that was really the core of the problem. Demons weren’t supposed to – the fickle snow under his feet already gave in at the barest hint of that thought but Aziraphale tightened his hold just in time. An angelic miracle surged through Crowley’s body, making him shudder. It should work now, being supported by the angel’s powers. It did, he stayed on top of the snow even though his legs were a bit wobbly.

“Now, that’s better,” said Aziraphale. “See, it’s just like – what is the saying – riding a bicycle.”

“Never really liked those either. Not enough wheels.”

They discussed vehicles of transportation while they walked towards the forest. It was exhausting to make conversation and at the same time keep his senses tuned for any humans along their way who needed to be distracted. Not to mention the permanent miracle to keep his body temperature up and not succumb to the temptation of hibernation. Then there were the snow-covered branches that got into his face. Why had any human ever thought it a good idea to go for a walk through a snowy forest for fun?

When they had finally spent the scheduled amount of time in the forest, Crowley directed their steps towards the village and made sure to pass the bookshop in a side street with the FOR SALE sign in its window. (As the owner had not known she owned a bookshop 24 hours ago, she was all the more happy for that sign, not least of all because it would bring her unexpected money.)

“Oh, nice bookshop.” Crowley slowed down his steps in front of it. “Would be a shame if someone bought it who’d turn it into a mobile phone shop. Or an estate agency.”

Aziraphale looked pained at the mere idea. Good.

Next stop: the bakery, which for miraculous reasons was opened on Christmas Day.

“How about a little snack?” Crowley suggested.

“Oh, yes, it smells heavenly.”

Crowley harrumphed because the fact that Aziraphale’s favourite bakery had, at short notice, decided to open a branch in Tadfield had nothing at all to do with heavenly influences. He urged Aziraphale to try the ciabatta with roasted garlic and fennel because Aziraphale always insisted that he had never eaten better ciabatta.

“This is good,” Aziraphale said when he tried it. “Mm, I think it’s almost as good as Francesco’s.”

Almost as good?! Who in this bakery had screwed up? Did Crowley have to kidnap Francesco, too? Aziraphale kept on praising the bakery but Crowley was already drawing up new plans on how to insure there was the perfect ciabatta in Tadfield.

Back in the cottage, Crowley immediately went to the kitchen to make hot chocolate. This was the tricky part of the plan. The milk could not be trusted. And the cream could be a real bitch.

Right, he could do this. He had succeeded in his kitchen, so he could do it here as well. Saucepan, milk, cocoa powder, sugar, cream, chocolate chips, a pinch of vanilla, a pinch of cinnamon, miracle, pray, hope that it would not boil over. Well, he had nine more cartons of milk, just in case, and enough cocoa powder for at least a year, but he did not want to keep Aziraphale waiting for too long.

After a few minutes, he proudly poured the hot chocolate into a mug. Now for the garnish. Whipped cream, marshmallows, chopped chocolate, candy cane, flake, cinnamon stick – the mug was too small.

“Don’t you dare,” Crowley hissed at it but he refrained from using a miracle because Aziraphale was snobbish about miracled food.

His hands were sticky with a mix of hot chocolate, whipped cream and marshmallows (because naturally he had spilled something) when bringing Aziraphale the mug but Aziraphale’s delighted and grateful expression made up for it. Another successful stage of his plan!

“This is very good. Where did you learn how to make it?”

“Not that difficult, really.” Crowley dropped down on the sofa in exhaustion.

“Won’t you have some, too?”

Oh, right. That was a thing, drinking hot chocolate together after a walk in the snow. “Of course, just getting mine…”

So, back to the kitchen. Saucepan, milk, cocoa powder, miracle, candy cane, done.

Hot chocolate was not Crowley’s favourite drink (especially not with hurried demonic miracle flavour) but it warmed him up. That, and watching Aziraphale with his flushed cheeks and content smile savour his drink.

“So. This place isn’t half bad,” Crowley said.

“It is absolutely lovely. Maybe we could, I don’t know… return here next year for a day or two?”

Returning sounded good, a day or two not good enough. Time to fortify the temptation.

“We could stay for tonight. Go for another walk. Could go at night, snow in the moonlight – looks nice, doesn’t it? Or tomorrow we could go to – to – to the hill. It’ll be a nice view from there, all the snow and…trees!”

“That does sound rather nice. But we couldn’t just stay here, could we?”

“Why not?”

“Well, it must belong to a human.”

“Yeah, it does. But the owner said it’s free for the next few…” centuries, decades, years “…months.”

“I see. In that case...” Aziraphale gave him a questioning glance as if waiting for Crowley to say it.

“Yes?” Crowley leant forward, waiting for Aziraphale to say it.

“I mean, as it is already getting dark…”

“Yes, very dark.”

“I mean, we could stay for one more…day, I suppose. Go for another walk in the snow.”

“Great.” Crowley gulped down the rest of his hot chocolate (and offered Aziraphale the candy cane). Everything was going according to plan, he had reached his goal for today. He would initiate the next stage of the plan tomorrow. For now, he could relax for a bit, and he really needed the break from all the minor or major miracles of the last few days, and the bloody snow. He sagged down further into the cushions of the couch. Warmth started to crawl back into his body, from his hands, which had held the mug with the hot drink, to his core until finally his whole corporation felt pleasantly heavy. Aziraphale seemed perfectly content, nibbling on his candy cane, and so Crowley could be, too. His breathing slowed down and he closed his eyes for a bit. Everything was so warm and nice and safe and… wait, what was that? He did not remember getting under a blanket. But it was a nice blanket. Very soft and very warm. He slowly blinked his eyes open. Everything was brighter. Where were his – ah. His glasses had been placed on the coffee table, next to five empty mugs and a stack of books. Oh no, was he back in the bookshop? But no, the bookshop was more dusty and stuffy. He was still in the cottage. They were still in the cottage. Aziraphale was sitting in the chair opposite Crowley, entirely engrossed in the book in his lap. Sometimes the hint of a smile would tug at the corners of his lips.

This was what Crowley had imagined. Well, not completely, to be honest. For example, he had not envisioned being covered with a woollen tartan blanket but the damage was done, no need to throw it away now. Besides, he was so very comfy in his cocoon of warmth. He stretched sleepily and wrapped the blanket more firmly around himself.

Aziraphale looked up from his book and the hint of a smile turned into a full smile when he caught Crowley’s eye. “Oh, you’re awake.”

That was food for thought, that Crowley got a bigger smile than the books. Crowley was not prepared for this – this – this four-letter word, all of it directed at him so openly.

“How long have I been…?”

“A bit more than two weeks, I think. Ah, maybe three. I haven’t been keeping track of time very thoroughly.”

“Two or three-?” Crowley sat up and got tangled up in the blanket. “But…” All of his careful laid out plans and he had simply overslept!

“It’s fine. I contacted the owner of this cottage. She said she did not have any other bookings and that we could stay for as long as we wanted. In fact, she seemed to be under the impression that we were going to stay for a bit longer anyway.”

And now that woman had messed it up even more! What was Aziraphale thinking? “Ah. Humans. Don’t really have a grasp on time,” Crowley tried to play it down.

Aziraphale placed a bookmark into the book, closed it and put it on the table. “I’ve been thinking.”

Oh no. “We need to talk?” Crowley ventured, dread growing, because those words were just as ominous.

“Yes.” Aziraphale folded his hands in his lap and looked down at them. Then he looked back up at Crowley. “Do you want to stay here?”

Of course he had worked it all out. Clever bastard. Stupid of Crowley to think otherwise, stupid of him to fall asleep and let Aziraphale overthink it for two or three weeks instead of being distracted and tempted by hot chocolate, ciabatta and little bookshops for sale.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale prodded.

How could he get out of this situation with both of them keeping their dignity intact? “Er, mnk. It’s not that bad here? I guess I could see myself staying here. Just, nhm, sleeping for a bit, you know.”

“And…do you want us to stay here…together?” Aziraphale’s voice had gone almost inaudible on the last word.

Crowley gave a big, hopefully very casual shrug that was meant to communicate just how unaffected he was by all of this. “I wouldn’t mind. Only if you want to, of course. Do you? Want to?”

“No, Crowley, I asked you if you wanted to stay here together.” Aziraphale’s voice had grown louder again, almost resolute now.

There was no way out of this. No shrugs, no half-answers, not even falling asleep for another few weeks could get him out of this situation. Right, be brave now.

He looked at Aziraphale and Aziraphale looked calmly back at him. It suddenly did not seem so frightening anymore. It would be fine, whatever he said. Aziraphale would still shelter him from the rain or help him walk on snow; would never cast him away.

Crowley gave a jerky nod.

“Good.” Aziraphale smiled tentatively. “Then we will stay here.” He nodded, as if to confirm it to himself, then grabbed his book with trembling fingers.

“Your hands are shaking,” Crowley said.

“Indeed, they are.” Aziraphale watched his own fingers as they opened the book on the page he had marked. “It’s just a lot.”

“I get that.” Crowley really did. He knew that Aziraphale by now had probably worked out the details of his plan with the numerous miracles to get them here and it should be humiliating but somehow it was okay because Aziraphale was just as nervous and was willing to do this with Crowley. “We don’t have to right now, we could just come here on vacation once a year or-”

“No, I want to.”

Huh. That had been easier than expected. Several stages of the plan were suddenly redundant. “What about your bookshop?”

“I was under the impression that you had already purchased that little bookshop in town?”

“Not yet but…I could.”

“Right.”

Crowley noticed how tensely Aziraphale’s fingers held the book, almost crumpling its pages. He knew how much Aziraphale loved his bookshop, and although it was flattering to think that Aziraphale would give it up for him, he never wanted Aziraphale to give anything up. “Or you could keep your bookshop. London’s not that far. We could go there once a week so you can open it every Tuesday or so. Won’t make much of a difference for the customers.”

Aziraphale considered it for a moment but then he shook his head. “No. I want to live here, I really do. It is perfect. Thank you for bringing me here.”

Crowley was lost for words. They were here, together, and they were going to stay. What else was there for him to say or do? Perfect, yes.

“I hope you’re well rested?” Aziraphale asked. “Because I’m planning on taking you up on that promise of a moonlight walk in the snow.”

“There’s still snow?!” Hadn’t he slept long enough?

“Indeed there is, and it looks marvellous.”

“Guess I owe you.”

After being asleep for so long in the warmth of the cottage, the cold outside was a bit of a shock. Aziraphale offered his arm again to assist Crowley, who, after a few uncoordinated steps, got the hang of walking on snow much quicker this time.

“Still hate snow,” he grumbled but it wasn’t that bad really. Yes, it was bloody cold but there were some upsides. Like the snow glistening in the moonlight and Aziraphale still holding him close, which wasn’t strictly necessary anymore and therefore even better.

They were on their own, not a sound to be heard but their breathing and the rustling of their coats. In the distance, the village laid asleep, no lights to be seen, just the smoke from the chimneys showed that humans lived there.

They walked towards the forest. The snow covering the ground was untouched but for some tracks that animals had left. The branches of the trees were hanging low with the weight of the snow. Everything felt a little unreal, it couldn’t be further from London’s hectic and loud atmosphere. It made Crowley all the more aware of everything, like how close they were pressed together. Aziraphale with his thick winter coat felt like a big comfy cushion against Crowley’s side.

They kept walking for hours like this, sometimes exchanging a few hushed words but mostly just enjoying the stillness of the world. Just walking and being here, no deeds to be done, no need to tempt or plan or work miracles. They kept walking until the break of dawn. Without discussing it, they directed their steps towards the village where one by one the lights in the houses went on.

“How do-ooaah!” Something hit Crowley right in the face and he staggered, lost his footing and landed on his bottom in the snow. “What was that?”

“I believe a-” Aziraphale ducked to avoid the next missile “-snowball. How rude.”

“Snowball.” The best thing about snow. Crowley was already sculpting his own snowballs and then started the counter attack. He liked sleeping, good food and moonlight walks well enough but he was still a demon, and using that annoying, squishy, cold stuff for snowball fights – brilliant idea. He was chasing the screaming kids around, bombarding them with his snowballs, ignoring Aziraphale’s complaints (“Crowley, you can’t use miracles against children!”).

“He’s the Antichrist, he can defend himself!” And his friends could just as well. Only when Crowley let snowballs the sizes of snowmen rain down on them, did they retreat.

“Was that really necessary?” Aziraphale admonished him while patting down the snow from Crowley’s coat, scarf and hair.

Crowley cackled. “That was fun.” He snapped his fingers for a new pair of sunglasses because the other one had been lost in the fight and was now probably buried somewhere in the snow.

“You look frozen. Let’s head back and warm you up. Maybe with some of that delicious hot chocolate you made. Are there still ingredients left or do we need to buy something?”

“I think we still have some,” Crowley said, thinking of the nine cartons of milk in the Bentley’s boot.

Back in the cottage, Crowley miracled his clothes dry and headed for the kitchen. Aziraphale followed him.

“How did you learn to make such scrumptious hot chocolate? Can you show me? What’s the secret?”

“Uh, possibly the milk.”

“What’s with the milk?”

“You heat it.”

“Yes?”

“It’s bloody difficult! Milk’s always trying to boil over and it makes a mess…”

“Yes, it sometimes does that.” Aziraphale stepped next to Crowley and examined the stove and the saucepan. “I think I can handle the milk.”

Aziraphale turned out to be a natural in heating milk. No boiling over, no stench, no flames, no ruined saucepan, not even spilled milk on the floor.

“You’re good at that,” Crowley said in surprise and added the cocoa powder.

“Oh, well, it’s not the first time I’ve made hot chocolate. Would you pass me the whisk, love?”

Crowley crashed into the countertop and spilled half of the sugar he had meant to add next. He stared at Aziraphale. Aziraphale smiled bashfully, his cheeks flushed red. He knew what he was doing, that bastard. He meant it.

“The whisk.” Crowley cleared his throat because his voice had come out very undemonic. “Right, yes, sure.” He passed it to Aziraphale and then got more sugar and the other ingredients.

Emboldened by Aziraphale’s bravery, he stepped a little closer so their shoulders brushed against each other. Aziraphale stopped breathing but he did not flinch away. He was still smiling when he whisked the milk and the cocoa powder. Crowley took his time adding the sugar and chocolate chips. And afterwards, he just stayed where he was and even dared to, very lightly, place a hand in the small of Aziraphale’s back. Aziraphale wriggled a little closer and suddenly it was very easy to place his chin on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

Crowley could not tell how long they stayed like this, Aziraphale whisking the hot chocolate and Crowley staring almost transfixed into the saucepan, inhaling the chocolaty scent and the warmth and Aziraphale’s closeness. What did it matter, they were not in a hurry, and the milk behaved for once.

#good snowmens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #fic #my writing

29 notes · View notes

opalmaplehibiscus · 4 years

Text

Rubies, Diamonds, and Self Reflection

HC of Kalim and Leona’s Senpai-Kouhai relationship + Kalim and Jamil in Kalim’s POV after Chapter 4

· It would be a lie to say Kalim wasn’t crushed from what Jamil said

· The last thing he wanted was to be hated by the person he treasures the most

· It was understandable why Jamil resented him. He was the reason why Jamil wasn’t free anymore and made him feel burdened

· If only he had known, if only he had known, Kalim would’ve done everything he could to free Jamil and the rest of his family

· Yet he didn’t and it was because he wasn’t able to catch the hints

· For once, he didn’t know what to do. He tried to extend his hand to Jamil, in hopes that it would help them move on and start a new relationship

· It took everything in him to not flinch when Jamil slapped his hand away and said “No way”

· No one ever found out about him crying during every night as he was successfully able to weep quietly to the point Jamil wasn’t able to find out

· Betrayal, hurt, sadness, pain – he couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t know what to do to mend their relationship or even know how to feel at this point

· But when Kalim remembered a certain line, a certain wish Jamil had yelled at him, he started thinking. Then, staring at his head scarf that was hanging on a chair, Kalim started to take actions with his own hands

· When Jamil comes to wake up Kalim out of habit, he finds Kalim’s bed well-made, pajamas folded in his drawer perfectly

· Panic and worry were the only two things Jamil felt before he finds Kalim sitting in the lounge with the rest of the Scarabia dorm members

· Kalim had his eyes closed while one of the freshmen was applying the finishing touches to his make-up as another was tying the headscarf

· When he had initially gone up and asked the dorm members’ if they could help him, he remembered how they looked worried after seeing the sunken, dark circles beneath his eyes

· He was thankful they were willing to look it over, accepting the excuse that he wasn’t able to sleep because of the heat

· When Jamil calls out Kalim’s name, Kalim jumps a bit, causing the freshman to apologize and worriedly ask him if they had accidentally injured his eyes

· Reassuring him the student that he was fine, Kalim opens the eye that was done and greets Jamil normally…or at least tried to

· He didn’t understand why Jamil seemed to be worried about his whereabouts, giving Jamil a confused look

· When Kalim replies “Wasn’t this what you wanted though?”, he got more confused when he sees a flash of shock and hurt cross Jamil’s face before he sees his former best-friend agree and stomp past the doors

· The want to grab Jamil’s hand and ask for an explanation nearly won him over, but Kalim was able to hold it in

· It would be a lie to say he felt lonely. He wasn’t used to walking the hallways alone or eating by himself

· He missed the times he and Jamil would talk to each other, whether it was Jamil scolding him for forgetting his homework or eating messy

· But in the same time, in the corner of his heart, he was hoping Jamil felt hurt as well. And the fact he felt that way made Kalim ever more guilty and led him to stay away from Jamil even more

· It was for this reason that during the Fairy Gala operation, he said that he would support Leona

· He was aware that Leona got the hint that it was an act of desperation – an excuse to hopefully make Jamil stay away from him

· Kalim didn’t want to hurt anyone anymore. He didn’t want to see his most precious people feel burdened because of him

· He was sick and tired bringing only pain to others

· So when him, Leona, and Jamil ended up being paired together as the main “attraction”, Kalim breathed out a relieved sigh

· He was hoping he would get paired with Ruggie or Yuu/MC, but as long as he wasn’t alone with Jamil, he was fine

· But when Jamil kept on trying to help Kalim despite our sunshine boy pointedly asking for other’s help, frustration was building up inside of him

· He thought Jamil wanted to stay away from him? Feel free and not be under the Al-Asim influence?

· Was Jamil worried that his dad might hear that he wasn’t looking after Kalim? Well…Jamil didn’t need to do that since he already written a fabricated report for the headmaster to submit to his dad. Sounding exactly like how Jamil would’ve written the report to a T

· Kalim doesn’t expect for Leona to actually help him out, acting as if Leona was frustrated with Kalim on how “slow” he was despite being the one to help fix his hair ornaments and the finishing touches of his looks

· And this small interference made by Leona continued until their mission ended in success

· He knew Leona was going to confront him about him and Jamil, but he wasn’t expecting it to happen on the very next day

· Kalim’s hands were in fists as Leona was jeering at Kalim for “not noticing” what Jamil was doing to him as frustration bubbled along with the salt rubbing on his wound. Like bro, come on. He’s not even over it yet and you’re seriously going to do that? Really?

· When Kalim questions Leona back on his reasoning to help him out, he huffed when he sees Leona’s eyes widen from the unexpected question

· What he didn’t expect was for the 3rd-year lion to bark out laughter before commenting how it seemed like he had seen everything wrong

· He didn’t enjoy being on the receiving end of Leona’s predatory look, but continued to hold his stance, giving a sneering look of his own

· He could only sigh internally as the cat was out of the bag when Leona realizes that Kalim knew about everything this whole entire time and only had Jamil continued to do his “little dance” because of consideration of Jamil being his friend and safety of everyone else

· But confusion covered his face as Leona started to criticize him of his judgement and told him what he would’ve done in Kalim’s stead

· It doesn’t take long to realize Leona was giving him advice. For free. Without asking him back for anything

· Seeing the suspicion on his face, he’s given a ruffle on his head before Leona tells Kalim that he wants to see what more Kalim could potentially do in the future though Kalim knew Leona was more interest in him and…Jamil’s confrontation

· Kalim knew this was his only chance to ask for help, to help him getter stronger. Pivoting on his heals, Kalim grabs Leona, who had now walked past him, by the wrist before asking Leona to help him get stronger

· Cause Kalim knew that if he doesn’t get stronger one way or another, he’ll continue dragging people down. And he knew that he wouldn’t be able to make himself stronger if he trains by himself

· When Jamil trained him, Kalim was able to get criticism of what he needed to get stronger on but now that he was trying not to rely on Jamil, Kalim had no choice but to seek for help by someone who’s smarter and stronger than him

· When he sees Leona about to reject him with his usual “Hah, hell no. That’s too much of a pain”, Kalim ends up making a deal with Leona that he would help his senpai avoid Ruggie’s nagging if he helps him just an hour per day

· It took him literally everything to get Leona to agree on those terms, going as far as being dragged across the ground while clinging onto Leona’s arm

· Leona: Let go of my f-king arm before I use my Unique Magic on you Kalim: *clings tighter* Never! You can’t make me! Leona: Hoh? And why? Kalim: *sparkles and holy light radiates from him* Pwease? uwu

· On their first session….things were bad. Leona kept on napping ever 5 minutes as Kalim was doing some of the exercises Leona had him do

· …Listen. He doesn’t like hurting people, okay? However, even he has a limit to how much crap he can deal with, his patience starting to wear thin because of his stress

· So, when Kalim “accidentally” makes it rain over Leona, the feeling of satisfaction and smugness only lasted a second before he was running away from an angry lion while screaming sorry

· When 3 days passed though, Kalim started to realize that not only has he become stronger – Leona seemed to start doting on him

· At first, Kalim thought nothing of it when Leona chucked a water bottle at him, telling Kalim how he needed to stay hydrated if he was going to continue training under Leona

· Yet, slowly, the training between Kalim and Leona starts to get longer and when Kalim points it out, Leona would end up just nonchalantly say how they seemed to have been carried away

· The last evidence that Leona actually cares for him was when Kalim accidentally had fallen asleep during their break. He wouldn’t imagine coming to see the day that he would end up waking up in none other than Leona’s room with a freaking blanket covering him

· Soon, Kalim finds himself hanging around Leona more with Leona showing annoyance as his tail would flick or ears would twitch whenever Kalim comes over to hang out. Kalim knows though that Leona didn’t mind being around him seeing how Leona never attempts to push him away

· He should’ve seen it coming that not everyone was going to accept his new found friendship as one second, he’s next to Leona, the next Jamil was dragging him down the hallways

· Others were fooled into thinking that the relationship between him and Jamil must’ve gotten better for something that had always happened in the past is occurring again now

· Kalim, though, knows that that wasn’t the case. Jamil’s grip is too tight and the way Jamil was walking wasn’t out of annoyance but from anger and….jealousy?

· He keeps on asking Jamil what was wrong and that his wrist hurt throughout the whole journey until the two enters an empty classroom

· Jamil was already questioning Kalim, telling him did he know how dangerous it was for him to hang around Leona of all people, reminding him that he needed to be more conscious like Jamil had always mentioned before

· In the past, when Kalim had trusted Jamil with his whole heart and thought they were friends, he would’ve accepted this

· Now, Kalim is feeling more cornered and stressed. It seems as if no matter what he did, Jamil wasn’t ever going to forgive him or realize how much Kalim was trying to mend their relationship

· When Jamil mentions how he wasn’t going to be there for Kalim and asks if Kalim still intended to burden him when he thought Kalim was willing to free him, Kalim was reminded of the words Jamil had said in chapter 4 and tries to hold the tears that were threatening to pour out while making fists with his hands

· By the time Jamil finished, Kalim used all of his will power to muster his usual sheepish grin before he replies that he understands before, not helping himself, shooting a shot back at Jamil

· When Kalim asks Jamil why he decided to drag him and lecture him like this when it’s only going to waste Jamil’s time, he sees Jamil’s face flash a sign of confusion before turning into frustration and anger, not at Kalim, but at himself

· Jamil replies that he still holds the responsibility of having to keep Kalim safe somewhat for the sake of his own family before he shoves Kalim to the side and leaves

· Numbly, Kalim leaves the classroom as well, feeling hollow and broken. He doesn’t think where his feet take him until he found himself in front of Ramshackle’s dorm

· Surprise from where he was and panicking that he was going to be late with his training session with Leona, Kalim starts to turn around again only to meet with Yuu/MC and Grim

· When Yuu/MC asks Kalim if he came again to offer fixing part of the dorm, Kalim could only sheepishly laugh and rub the back of his head cause to be fair, Kalim did came over a few times to help Yuu/MC fix their dorm after helping him out with Scarabia’s scandal

· He isn’t sure what could’ve possibly hinted that he’s feeling down since he was sure his acting was still on point as he makes an excuse on spot that he was only passing by this

· He doesn’t expect Yuu/MC to drag him into Ramshackle Dorm’s lounge with a complaining Grim following right behind them nor be seated and drinking tea, like a normal person. By that, as in, not excessively pouring sugar cubes like the time when he wanted to pull on Jade’s leg

· The two start off having a small talk with each other, Kalim sounding like his normal bright self and Yuu/MC ever being considerate before they asked Kalim what was making him stressed out

· Kalim blinks owlishly, not expecting for that question to be asked out of the blue before trying to assure them that he wasn’t

· No matter what he did, Yuu/MC didn’t buy any of his excuses, pointing out every little sign that Kalim isn’t okay

· He tries telling them to drop it as gently as possibly, purposely making the conversation go in circles

· When Yuu/MC reveals that Kalim wasn’t the type to get lost aimlessly - that made Kalim become alert

· He asks them what they meant before they state how they knew Kalim was smarter than he leads others to believe, evening calling him out for lying about the fact he couldn’t memorize things when they brought up the time when Kalim held a banquet for the headmaster

· Kalim felt offended for being called out and having his hidden side be revealed before he narrows his eyes and asks what did they know about him

· Starting from there, everything pent up poured out as Kalim raised his voice and continue asking what in the world Yuu/MC knew about him

· Did they know how much he suffered from not being able to eat whatever and wherever he wanted? To not be able to trust anyone or anything? To have to believe that whatever was around him could possibly kill him because of his fate and position?

· Did they know how much he work he did to become powerful and smart enough just so he could stop becoming a weight that sinks people down and instead, do the reverse and help them? To have to pull an act of seeming carefree so he wouldn’t worry anyone from his own emotional burden?

· How much pain he had to swallow in and do his best to act normal after Jamil’s betrayal and confession? How broken hearted he was to have been seen that way by the person he had trusted his whole life while feeling guilty to be the one to make said person feel like that?

· Kalim doesn’t realize he was being hugged or, in fact, crying as he let everything go

· When he calms down, he quickly apologizes to Yuu/MC while Grim comes over and places a box of tissue on the coffee table

· Yuu/MC assures him that it was fine and asks if he now felt better, especially when he was able to stop holding everything in

· He could only nod as he hides his blush of embarrassment behind the tissue he blew his nose into

· Sometimes Kalim wonders if Yuu/MC intentionally tries to frustrates people when Yuu/MC points out how it was because of his weakness – that he cares too much about the people he holds close to and his naivety- that led to Jamil to treat him as a pushover

· Yet he realizes that Yuu/MC was trying to comfort him as they tell him that it was okay for him to be selfish and exert some authority, that it was okay to show he was actually smart beneath his mask as they point out that had Kalim had shown that side of him, he would’ve been able to get Jamil to at least not pull off the stunt seen in Chapter 4 or at least realize by now that Jamil was in the wrong, not him

· Kalim wants to defend Jamil but Yuu/MC didn’t give him the opportunity to as they started to talk about how Jamil had every opportunity to become free without using the whole “use my Unique Magic to the point I overblot” method and finally convinced Kalim that the relationship between him and Jamil wasn’t completely his fault

· Kalim, realizing all of this, felt satisfied and peacefully come in terms with everything as his heart didn’t weigh so heavy anymore. For the first time in a while, Kalim smiles from the bottom of his heart and thanks Yuu/MC before quickly rushing out and head to Leona as he saw on his phone that he was about to be late

· When he meets Leona, Leona doesn’t ask why his eyes seemed swollen up or slightly red as he has Kalim start on his warm ups like usual

· It was during break Leona gruffly asks him if he was alright

· Seeing how Kalim was giving him a questioning look, Leona huffs before he tells Kalim that he heard about “him and Jamil were starting to become friends again” and huffs about how the herbivores in their school aren’t able to notice the tension between the two when the whole hallway thing happened

· Kalim starts grinning, feeling warm and happy that Leona was showing that he cares about Kalim’s wellbeing, before he laughs and tells Leona he’s okay

· He could see Leona holding back his worries and frustration seeing how Leona’s eyebrow was twitching and raising his hand-raising his hand? No, that wasn’t supposed to happen. Leona please put your hand down, I’m sorry, I said I was-!

· Starting from that day, Kalim went back to his normal self. Yet instead of focusing on Jamil, for once, Kalim starts to care for himself as he now hung out with Yuu/MC more, visiting their dorm and hang out with them every so often and continuing his training under Leona

· It was at this point Kalim also became buddies with the Octavinelle trio and having Vil become his “sensei” again, but this time on clothes and make-up

· So, when Yuu/MC suddenly tells him that there was going to be a party held in one of the second year’s classroom, Kalim knew it was lie but still goes there anyways

· He knew Yuu/MC wasn’t the type to lie without a reason

· He never would’ve expected to get locked in a classroom with Jamil, of all people

· The only way to describe the atmosphere between the two of them is awkward

· Sweat rolls down the side of his face as he tries to lighten the pressure between the two of them, starting up small talk and asking the basic pleasantries

· Kalim gets surprised when Jamil, out of nowhere, asks him if he was having fun with his new friends

· Thinking that it was an opportunity, Kalim answers with a yes and went on and on about the things that happened with the people he now hangs out with

· When Kalim started to talk about how he seemed to become closer to Yuu/MC and Leona and unconsciously show his endearment for the two, he stops abruptly after hearing Jamil snort

· He calls out Jamil’s name only to have Jamil suddenly sneer at him for still being “naïve and not learned anything”

· Anger, hurt, and disappointment fills Kalim as Jamil continues to insult him, going on about how he felt bad that his new friends were stuck taking care of a person who didn’t even know how to cook for himself except with magic

· To say he felt satisfied when he surprises Jamil was an understatement. Yeah, Kalim felt mean when he shot back at Jamil mentioning how Jamil would’ve been freed if only he told Kalim

· Making a sneering expression of his own, Kalim points out how, because he’s probably one of the few to know him to the point of reading his mind, Jamil has been trying to get Kalim to accept his offer for help

· Kalim scoffs how Jamil only ended up making enemies despite being able to increase his social status in the school and that he can’t help but think that all of his troubles could’ve been prevented easily

· The two continues to insult each other until they yelling at each other, holding the other one’s collar until they start to emotionally confess everything they had felt during the time they stayed away

· The hands that were holding the other one’s collar slowly and gradually wrap around each other’s shoulders as both Kalim and Jamil sinks onto their knees and hug

· They continue to sob in each other’s embrace, for comfort and forgiveness until they calmed down and let go

· Kalim ends up being the one to break the atmosphere as he couldn’t help but find Jamil’s crying face hilarious. It’s his first-time seeing Jamil look like that and to be honest, it made Jamil look like a kid that cried from a tantrum

· When Jamil shouts at him to shut up, Kalim continues to tease Jamil before he got up and extends his hand to Jamil

· When Jamil looks at the hand then to his eyes, Kalim gives Jamil his famous cheerful grin

· He still counts it his victory when Jamil sighs and took Kalim’s hand

· Feeling as if things were alright, the two started to discuss how to open the locked classroom without damaging it before they hear the classroom’s door bang open

· The two were surprised when they see Leona growling how long they intended to stay in the classroom before they realized that the door wasn’t locked from the start and the whole thing was set up

· Kalim starts complaining to Yuu/MC who comes in behind Leona while turning a blind eye to Leona and how he was threatening Jamil to not think about hurting him anymore

· The two were found walking back to Scarabia Dorm with each other, fooling around just like back then as everyone headed back home

#twst #twisted wonderland #kalim al asim #jamil viper #leona kingscholar #hc #headcanon #kalim deserved better #jamil is a clown i'm sorry

136 notes · View notes

bibbykins · 5 years

Text

Heliophilic Rain and His Pluviophile (M)

Yikes, it’s been a hot minute. That’s my bad. I have been having it a little rough with my job and so I’m in the process of finding another one and that among a billion other things is slowing me down. Which makes me wonder if I were to open commissions if anyone would be interested? I also would like to add there is a scene that could be triggering so proceed with caution, please. Either way, thank you for your patience as always, and I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: (Soft) Yandere! Yoongi x Reader Genre: Smut/Fluff

Word Count: 8.5k

Warnings: possessiveness, yandere tendencies, anxiety, unspoken threat of sexual assault, slight violence, oral, penetrative sex, cock warming, toxic relationship (he's yandere ya kno)

Summary: He was the rain just as you were the sun, both too transfixed with watching each other to get any closer. Few things feel more refreshing than drops of fresh rain on heated skin or the warmth of the sun on a gloomy day. It would be a shame to not indulge in the natural wonders of the world before you.

“Her voice was like the wind. I could listen until it was all that filled me. I could listen until she swept me away into the vast ocean of her presence. I would drown if it meant I would drift back to her. Her voice was like the wind. No matter how much I tried to catch it, I would get carried away. Suddenly, I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. Suddenly, home was wherever she said it was, so long as she did so with that voice of hers.”

“His voice was like the tap of rain against a window. He was asking me to go out to see him, but there was something beautiful about the way I knew he wasn’t referring to me specifically. I was a mere onlooker to his presence. Even so, I would catch a cold if it meant I could reach him, even for a moment. I thought this, knowing I would never have the guts to go outside. I made peace with this until the taps on my window turned into knocks on my door.”

——-

The office had an industrial-chic style about it, filled with neutral tones and the clanging of chains for no other purpose except fashion donned upon its employees. The color palette was gloomy and soothing, just how Yoongi liked it, an aesthetic that his employees gleefully shared with him as well. Each morning, Yoongi would look out his office and admire his growing business, eyes never lingering on one place too long, he loved all of the office equally. This much rang true until he couldn’t tear his eyes away from your form.

“She’s like a breath of fresh air, isn’t she?” Hoseok placed his hand on Yoongi’s soldier as he watched you through the glass doors of the conference room you were currently introducing yourself in, “Don’t be too hard on her, she’s competent and hardworking, okay?”

Yoongi could barely hear his friend as he lost himself in the way your eyes crinkled from a genuine smile adorning your face. You were his new host to one of the podcasts his company picked up. From the merger with Hoseok’s company full of his college friends, Yoongi went from popular podcast host and semi-popular producer to a CEO of Min Productions, famous music artists in production and performance, who oversaw the production of music and several podcasts on several topics, and you were what he had initially dreaded.

From the merger, came money, but what also came with it was Namjoon, the PR head of the company Hoseok was a part of, being able to choose one of every five talents for Yoongi to build up, hopefully into fame. Yoongi had just reached his fifth host, the podcasts he chose mostly consisting of music commentary or general life talks from people with aesthetics aligned with his own. However, from the sea of neutral colors and low voices partaking in casual conversation came you.

You were a perky college senior with some light in your eyes still. You were a rare find and had no set style ranging anywhere from pastels to the grunge he was used to seeing, but what never changed was your smile. Your teeth made an appearance at least 10 times a day, judging by the third smile you had just flashed the crew in a two-minute time frame.

Your podcast, however, oddly betrayed your attitude. You ran a sex and lifestyle podcast where you asked questions most people were too shy to throw out into the world pertaining to the unspoken social rules of casual dating and sex. It was interesting, yes, but it didn’t align with the brand Yoongi had been building judging by the synopsis.

The fuss he made to Namjoon ended as soon as he sat down and listened to a podcast of yours.

—–

“I have a formal complaint I would like to file!” You proclaimed as Yoongi found himself listening to your most recent podcast, “Why the fuck can’t I get a sugar daddy my age? It’s almost like… like my age demographic consists mostly of broke-ass college kids living with their parents, in a dorm, or like ya girl, an overpriced apartment and not rich as fuck for no reason. Fucking whack, I’ll say it.” He unwittingly cracked a smile at your charm and sarcasm, “I spent one day on sugarbaby.com and had to watch vanilla straight porn at the number of wrinkly dicks I saw instead of profile pictures. That’s like the most boring porn. So here comes a Patreon plug for the brainwashing I will conduct on myself in case I saw anyone’s grandfather’s penis.” You had an unabashed charm about you that urged him to listen more, maybe just one more episode.

Yoongi found himself listening to your entire discography, even the less promoted music you released once every blue moon, which wasn’t half-bad. However, he couldn’t find a picture of you, most likely because you posted under the alias Sugar Sun. The only pictures of yourself being from behind.

“On this episode of men are trash: men are fucking trash. Hello all, Sugar Sun here, and let’s talk about my day,” Yoongi could feel his intrigue grow, as you kept releasing, your delivery became less forced and more natural, “I don’t talk much in class, believe it or not. I’m a stuttering mess and like two people know my name at my big ass university, so when I do talk and my shit hole of a lab partner yells at me in the middle of a presentation to speak up, I cry, in front of the class. But do I stop the presentation? No, I’m fucking frozen with fear, so I just continue with my tears and the presentation. Bitch, what the fuck I looked like a middle school drama kid doing a monologue in front of her math class for no fucking reason.” You took a deep breath, “In conclusion, I’m sensitive and men are trash. Now, to the podcast.”

You had gained more traction with your commentary on romantic life and general comedy, catching Namjoon’s attention, “Hello again, double S here, with a special announcement. I got like, an actual company to sign me! Wild, I know! I’ll get paid and have meet-ups and stuff, which means you lovely listeners will get to soak in my face and talk to me in person and really experience why the only orgasms I’ve had are self-made!”

—–

“Yoongi!” Hoseok tapped his shoulder, snapping him out of his trance you put him in.

“Sorry, she’s just-”

“Be nice,” Hoseok warned.

“Like sunshine.” Yoongi could feel the air enter his lungs as you sat down with a smile, “Like, what the fuck, Hobi?”

His friend blinked, “Woah, shit, what?” He stifled a laugh, “You know, there isn’t a no-dating policy, right?”

“I’m well aware.” Yoongi rolled his eyes, “But there will be if anyone tries anything.” He spoke nonchalantly and Hoseok choked on air at his friend’s obliviousness while the glass doors of the conference rooms were opened, you pouring out from it, waltzing to Yoongi and Hoseok.

“Hello, Mr. Min and Ho-Mr. Jung, I’m Y/n, or Sugar Sun, thank you for this amazing opportunity.” You bowed as Hoseok shook off his bewilderment for just a moment to give you a small bow with Yoongi.

“I look forward to spending more time with you.” Yoongi spoke in his regular gruff voice, the same one that proclaimed to have your hand in marriage just moments before, “I find you’ll be a breath of fresh air to the company.”

“I also look forward to seeing how your podcasts go, you have a photoshoot in a couple weeks, right?” Hoseok smiled warmly at you as you beamed back to him. Yoongi swore the whole exchange was blinding.

“I do! I’m a little nervous, since it’ll be my big face reveal, and I don’t know how well I model.” You giggled and Yoongi found his new favorite song the moment you did.

Yoongi had a tendency to do this, whether or not he wanted to. He was a passionate man. He craved love and could see it coming from a mile away. Despite being one of the seven main heartthrobs of his college campus, he almost exclusively stuck to serious relationships, and he meant it when he said serious. Yoongi was a little, to put it lightly, obsessive. He was a jealous boyfriend, but he did his best to try not to be too overbearing. He was also excessively protective, and the women he dated were grungy free spirits who enjoyed the chase when all Yoongi wanted was to catch them then hold them for the rest of his life. Despite being blinded by his own passion, he could still see when it wasn’t going to last, having accepted to never find a girl to accommodate and sedate him when needed. However, when you looked his way, or he heard your voice, it was something more than a need being filled.

You felt your heart leap out of his chest, trying not to fall into Yoongi’s hands when you first saw him, and here he was, nonchalantly giving you an inkling of a smile. Maybe it was the lack of a solid fuck or a relationship, but you were definitely breaking some HR rules in your mind.

Suddenly, you became aware of the content you dished out. You talked about your sex life often, and he knows you’re inexperienced and terribly horny. You internally punched yourself in the face. He probably thinks you’re so weird. Yet, here you were, a huge fan of Agust D and now Min Yoongi was staring at you.

Yoongi smiled, “Don’t worry, I’ve had my experience with a face reveal or two.”

You returned his smile, remembering the day Agust D revealed his face. The whole world stopped, and you only fell deeper when you looked at his eyes, “I-I remember, I’m a fan.” You looked down shyly before facing him again.

“Funny, I am a fan of yours.” He spoke lowly as Hoseok had long walked away unnoticed.

You giggled stupidly, “A fan?” Your sunny smile beamed at him. He had always preferred rainy days, but if this was what the sun looked like, he could get used to being a little warm here and there, “I can hardly believe it.”

“I’m gone a lot and yet, your voice has a certain factor to it that draws people in. ” He mused as his eyes trapped you, “I wonder where you’ve been all my life.”

Just like that, the bubble popped. The chimes came to a screeching halt. The rose-tinted glasses were abruptly ripped off of your face. The magic cleared, and you were left with the realization that while you had damn near counted every interaction, no matter how minuscule, and he hadn’t cared to remember you until now.

“Here’s my personal cell,” He hands you a pristine card with silver numbers, “Call me if you need anything, and I mean it.” You take the card with a quaint smile that deflates

He’s never noticed you until now, of course. The answer to his thoughts was that you’ve been right here.

Before Yoongi could register the chill in the air without your smile, Hoseok came back, “Hey Yoongs, let’s go, we got a flight in a few hours.“

“Right.” Yoongi breaks eye contact with you.

“Have a good flight!” You smile, not as wide as before, and Yoongi sees it.

“See you Tuesday, y/n!” Hoseok waves.

“Don’t be late!” You giggle and as soon as they both are out of earshot, Yoongi grills him.

“You know her?!” Yoongi snaps as he enters the town car.

Hoseok blinks at him, confused, “Duh? I thought that was a given.” Upon seeing his friend’s puzzled face remain, Hoseok’s eyes went wide, “Holy shit, you don’t remember her?!”

The older male blinked in confusion, “I’ve never met her before?”

The younger businessman threw his head back as he placed his hands over his face in frustration, “She was in our forensics class and our history class last year’s fall semester and the year before!” He was exasperated, “Remember the super genius sophomore?”

Yoongi racked his brain. Last year? He had been dating some angsty theology major. How could he have let himself be blinded by a temporary fling when the love of his life was right there? He could kick himself at this moment. No wonder your smile faltered, you had remembered him, “Liar, you can’t be serious.”

“Dude, she tutors me to this day in history.” Hoseok deadpanned, “All she requires is I buy her meals that day.”

“How often do you guys have study dates?” Yoongi grits out as his friend snorts at the notion of it being a date.

“Your possessive is showing,” He snickered, “My girl is all I can see these days, no matter how cute y/n is.”

“I will end you if you touch her,” Yoongi doesn’t hesitate, “Especially with the way you treat girls,” His face scrunches in disgust before he grumbled, “But how often?”

“Every other Tuesday.” Hoseok smirked, “And you mean used to treat girls.”

Yoongi huffed in agreeance.

—-

“Hello, party people.” Your voice entered Yoongi’s headphones as he leaned back on his hotel bed, “Sugar Sun here, in my bedroom. We’re calm, we’re casual, it is a Friday night and this one goes out to my fellow homebodies.” You switched off to play a song. Part of the contract you signed was that you are allowed to go live whenever you liked to encourage and tend to fans. You explained it was almost a tradition for you to set aside a Friday night in once a month for your fans and Yoongi found in comforting as he lay alone.

Your taste in music was so unbelievably cute, he couldn’t help but smile at the lo-fi song, “And we’re back, hello all here and all who are joining as I speak. Today I took a tour of the studio my actual podcasts will be recorded in and holy shit, they seem to actually take me seriously as a personality and even artist, so expect some tunes soon.” Yoongi smiled at this, you don’t even know your potential, “I’m looking at the chat now to see if there are any questions, and- oh, yes, I did meet my boss. Yes, the iconic Min Yoongi. He is as dreamy as they say, but I have actually met him before.” Yoongi sunk a little further in shame, “Did he remember me?” You read from the chat, “No, of course not. I’m a voice, but no one will know me if I don’t use it.” You sighed out and he felt his heart clench. He was such a fucking idiot. “Which I don’t much beyond this mic. Am I scared to say this now that he’s my boss?” He held his breath a bit, “No, I doubt he’s listening. He said he was my fan, but he could just have said that to be a nice guy.” You laughed, a hint of sadness evident, “What a fucking disaster I must seem like if he were to, huh?” The sadness in your voice more prominent, “If he is, hi Mr. Min, please erase this from your memory, as well as my sophomore haircut.”

The live went on as normal and Yoongi drifted to sleep to the melodious sound of your voice for the remainder of the flight. However, even in his dreams, you were just out of reach, and he couldn’t begin to put into words how much it killed him.

—-

You don’t know how you got here. You looked around at the shabby setup. This "photography studio” looked a lot, and you mean a lot, like it was a half-assed school set not long ago. You scoffed, throwing your hands up incredulously when you caught sight of a black couch. You really hated your manager.

The jackass was assigned to you and you were too scared to say how uncomfortable he made you. He treated you like a child, but the way he looked at you was too adult for your taste. He was constantly texting you and asking for photos of your face, which you were constantly rejecting. To top it all off, he wants you to call him Big Brother, not Oppa, Big Brother. You opted for Big Bro instead, since he won’t give you his name. No, to top it all off, he booked your photo shoot with a “friend” of his to “save the company money”. He asked you to show up in a dress no longer than your knees and you felt dumber and dumber as time went on for doing so.

You stood in the middle of this studio-warehouse apartment waiting for this great photographer to show up. As you stood here, your initial thought was “how fucking ridiculous is that” but the longer you were there and the more you studied the ropes that were no longer as well hid, something in your stomach began to turn.

You were in actual fucking danger. This situation could not be a funny story if you didn’t live to tell it. Your eyes darted from different red flags in the room. A spot of dried blood scratches on the cheap wallpaper, bare plaster marks against the beige wall, a poorly-concealed camera you hadn’t noticed until now. Your chest squeezed when your phone vibrated.

You could get out of here! All you had to do was send an SOS.

Hoseok: Good luck in the photoshoot from my other half and I!

You smiled lovingly at the snapchat from the male, the more permanent girl in his life with a smile on her face and an encouraging thumbs-up. They were evidently on a date, finally, so there was no way you could call them to come get you. You would hate to bother them.

Mr. Min: Let me know how the shoot goes.

You faltered over the message. He was professional as ever. Would he think less of you if you abandoned a shoot like this?

Yoongi agonized over the three dots that stared him down. He had to remind himself to blink as he watched the minutes tick by that felt like hours. What the hell were you typing?

It had been about a couple of weeks since you’ve been under Yoongi’s company and all had been normal. Your routine was the same, and so was his. Except for this time, you two would exchange polite texts on what the other would do.

Sugar Sun: Great song as always!

You would always send exclamation points or some sparkle emojis, even a sun here and there. Yoongi found himself unable to shield his cheesy grin at the texts you sent him. You were always the first person to praise his new work. He found himself craving your praise more and more, but he forced himself to remain professional.

Mr. Min: Loved your live.

He always used punctuation despite using fragments which somehow added an aura of professionalism that he effortlessly radiated in person. Nevertheless, you would always send back a sparkly thank you which made Yoongi melt. He prided himself on not overstepping boundaries by attempting to control your professional life. His self-restraint proved quite strong as he held himself back from taking you out to lunch or giving you special treatment. This restraint was put to the ultimate test when he found out you were assigned Hyungin as your manager. He was an unfortunate employee with constant reports that would ultimately be rescinded by the female employees.

He was a disgusting piece of shit, Yoongi deduced. Hyungin was the brother of the management agency contracted by his company, per Namjoon’s damn insistence, and he was itching for that contract to end, and soon. Yoongi had to physically hold himself back when he found this information out, trying to respect you by not meddling or keeping tabs on you.

His resolve was a very thin string that was tugged and tugged as the days went on with Hyungin having total control over your schedule and an excuse to contact you 24/7. You were a strong girl and had not made a report. He had to respect that.

Your lip began to twitch, a movement you quickly halted as you shook the fear off. Maybe you were overreacting. Maybe you were being stuck up. You weren’t like Yoongi, maybe you had to photoshoot in shabby places.

You: I’m kind of scared…

You shook your head, erasing the message and locking your phone. You huffed, it was 30 minutes past the scheduled time. Surely you had the right to leave? You heard the back door open and could feel the bile lurch in your throat.

Something was very wrong. You were not overreacting. There were several heavy footsteps and as they thudded through the warehouse, nearing your reaching form, you could not deny the quaking fear that traveled through your veins like electricity.

One? Two? No, four sets of steps. The uneven rhythm proved as much, too many for a measly photoshoot. Too many for you to take on all at once. The correct amount to hold you down. The correct amount to-

“Little sis, are you here?” A sickening voice called out and you realized the steps stopped with only his continuing.

He was trying to surprise you.

“Come on, dear, let’s get to know each other.” You could hear the predatory smirk on his face and you choked on a horrified breath as the fear pricked your skin and pierced your lungs.

You were choking on your own horror.

“Come out, come out,” He called and you were frozen, absolutely fucking frozen.

Run.

You stood up, breaking into a sprint that was a hair too slow. You felt a calloused, obscenely rough handgrip your forearm with a vigorous force and you screamed. He was squeezing, and at this rate, your bones would surely snap, “Not so fast, little girl.” He stood next to you, breath pungent with halitosis. From peripheral vision, you could see his five o'clock shadow and you realized the size difference and the lack of camera. You couldn’t stop screaming, mimicking every cell in your body that seemed to yell,

RUN.

Just like lightning, you struck him with your head, harder than you knew you could stand. His nose gave you an all too satisfying crack and his grip loosened enough for you sprint again, this time more than quick enough to keep going. You heard the clamoring of footsteps and eventually, all you could hear was the sound of the wind as you turned corners you had no familiarity with, running until your legs could no longer carry you.

Your legs finally shook you down to your knees in a part of town you barely recognized. You had passed through here once before as a freshman in college sight-seeing. It was a tourist spot and you exhaled on the sidewall as people stepped around you.

You heaved a breath that you swore you had been holding for hours with a small victorious smile. Your eyes scanned the area of regular people and your hands shaking brought attention to the purse you thankfully still had.

Without thought, you ripped it open, using your phone to call the first person you could.

“Y/n?” His voice was gruff, as if he was whispering whilst trying to talk normally, “Is everything okay?” He seemed confused, you had never called him before.

“Can you… uh…” You faltered after realizing the strangled sound you made, voice raw from the screams you let out, “…please come get me.” You nearly whispered.

“Send me your location, I’m on my way.” Yoongi didn’t miss a beat before adding, “Stay where you are, don’t go near anyone.” He ended the phone call and you followed his directions, dropping your pin. You sighed in relief as you took refuge on the sidewalk, draping the cardigan in your bag over your shoulder, securing it around yourself.

Yoongi shot up from his office chair, looking at his employees mid-powerpoint. His marketing team turned into ice at his gaze. His eyes were much darker than a moment ago, and his jaw was like stone, “I have an emergency to attend to, we will proceed at a later date.” The room nodded stiffly as their boss walked out, all of them unaware why, having been too scared to even try to listen to his phone call.

Never in Yoongi’s life had he sped so recklessly. You were 10 minutes away and something was wrong. Your voice had never sounded so vulnerable. He had never heard it that quiet before. You were in a plaza of popular building, and if you had a photo shoot today, this would not be near any studio at all. His blood boiled at the thought of anyone taking away your light.

He slammed on the brakes when he caught sight of your shrunken form on the sidewalk, your head jerked up at the sound as your entire body jumped. Why were you so scared? Your face had a small streak of makeup on the side of your face and his skin only flared as you scurried into the car and Yoongi began driving to a more familiar side of town.

“Please don’t take me home.” You pleaded, unable to face him due to the shame.

Yoongi chose not to prod, for the time being, only nodding in response as he drove. He could see you stare out the window at the passing building and he watched your shaking for curl into the car seat. He settled on this resolve of leaving you alone all the way up to the inside of his apartment until your lip quivered as you plopped down on the couch, eyes unwavering from its spot at your feet. Then, you began to cry. No, not cry, sob, sob your hardest and just like that, a single tear snapped the ever-thinning string of restraint he had left.

You were pulled into Yoongi’s chest as sobs racked through your body, you clutched his shirt as you soaked it with tears of fear, relief, joy, and you couldn’t stop. Hell, you could barely breathe. Even so, Yoongi held you as his expensive dress shirt crumbled under your grip and stained with your mascara and eyeliner proving not to be as water-resistant as you hoped. His grip was unwavering and when a hand went to stroke your hair, you could feel oxygen reach your lungs again.

“It’s okay.” He breathed, “You’re safe now.” He fought the urge to clench his jaw again as you gripped his shirt harder.

Your breathing began to even as he whispered soft words into your ear until your eyes couldn’t cry anymore. The both of you stood there for what felt like an eternity, clinging onto one another as he felt the softness of your cardigan against his hands. You eventually broke the silence with a meek, “I’m so sorry."

"Why is that?” He spoke softly, his last intent was to scare you.

“I ran away from the shoot, and I know it’s not professional but…” You shivered, “ He didn’t have a camera.” Yoongi could kill somebody, “He had three other guys with him.” Someone, no, all of them are going to have to pay, he concluded. Nobody involved would leave the ordeal with their lives intact. They would lose everything for trying to take his sunshine away, for making your light falter, for even a moment.

He ripped himself from you, to sternly meet your eyes, “Do not apologize for the swine you encountered.” Your eyes only reflected sorrow, “You’re alive, and that is what matters most, okay?” You nodded.

“You’re not mad at me?” Your voice cracked against your will as you looked up at Yoongi, eyes glassy and begging for reassurance.

He visibly softened, “No, Sunshine, I could never be mad at you.” You nodded in understanding, “But will you let me fix this for you?”

Maybe you should have known from the beginning. You looked at Yoongi, so eager to be your saving grace, eyes intense with intent, and yet his touch was so soft. A man in love was a dangerous man, you once read in a book. Yet, never in your life have you craved such a man before, and if Yoongi’s rage mixed with infatuation could measure close to love, you would take it. He was powerful, he was kind, and he was pleasing to the eye. He was offering you the world in that one question.

“Please.” You cast your pride aside, “They don’t deserve mercy.” An angry tear went down your cheek, “I’m so tired of trying to brave it, doubting myself, denying myself any chance of help.” You could feel the tear trickle with hot fury, “I’m so fucking sick of relying on myself.”

Yoongi was quick to catch the tear with the softest hand you’ve ever felt, “I’m here now.” He spoke with the utmost confidence.

Your relationship with Yoongi from that point for the next couple of months was interesting, to say the least. You had somehow moved in upon his request, him rationalizing it by saying they knew where you lived. Granted, he wasn’t wrong. Hyungin knew where you lived, but within two weeks he and the monsters you encountered were promptly locked in a very dangerous maximum-security prison. You decided not to dwell on how they took such a shitty deal with a well-deserved long sentence.

Some things were above your pay grade, and you made peace with it.

Even so, he didn’t stop there. He could no longer stand on the sidelines anymore. That line blurred beyond recognition the moment he held you in his arms. He was essentially your new manager, stating he owed you at least that much after letting you fall into the hands of such a monster. Thankfully, the releasing of official statements and press conferences were received well. The victim-blaming for the nature of your podcast kept to an obsolete minimum. Your face still had not been released upon your request and you were able to move on, the media no longer covering the story as the sentencing was sealed.

The months passed in a flurry of Yoongi being awfully vague each time you asked about his personal life. He was constantly home outside of work, which you didn’t mind, but you didn’t want him to put his social life on your accord. You also had much less confidence in his infatuation for you then you did a couple months ago. Every time you tried to make a move, which meant a small brush of physical contact, he was not responding. The last time he gave you affection was the hug during your breakdown. The most you got out of him were a couple of head pats.

Like that did anything for you.

For crying out loud, you ran a sex and lifestyle podcast with no sex from the hot man you lived in the same home as.

Hell, the most emotion you see from him is the purest politeness you have ever encountered.

“Hello my listeners, welcome to the obligatory virginity talk.” Your voice was crisp in the mic as Yoongi laid in his bed, headphones in, listening to the newly released podcast. He was still a loyal listener, despite you living in his guest bedroom. He still could not get enough of your voice. If anything, he craved you more and desperately held himself back. He loved having you with him, but never did he think he would have to turn to rubbing one out during your more racy episodes or when he heard you pleasuring yourself in the dead of night.

Not even his thoughts could satiate him with you right there, and yet, out of reach.

“It has come to my attention that many of you think I’m a virgin, not that it’s an insult..” He could hear the smile in your voice, “Alas, I am not, but that doesn’t change my hand being the most impressive thing my pussy has seen, I’ll tell you what.” You giggled at this, “No, I take that back, my magic wand is my BFF.” Yoongi shifted, wondering if you had your toys in your room. He had sent for all of your things after all. God, he could already feel his dick hardening. How pathetic you make him at the very thought of you fucking yourself silly, eyes rolled back, vibrator against your clit. He huffed, shaking away the thoughts, “ Anyhow, let’s talk trends I am late to, rare, I know, but what’s this whole spelling coconut with your hips riding someone business?” You pondered, “I haven’t ridden someone in a good while, and my dildo can’t tell me if it feels good, so I’m at a loss here.” You sighed almost longingly, “God, I miss getting fucked, but also romanced,” You groaned, “It’s been a rough as fuck dry couple of months, which didn’t bother me for a while considering… you know, but the world keeps turning and I stay alone but moving on…” You droned and Yoongi went into overdrive.

Did you seriously want to fuck someone? Like someone else? You were living with him now, why would you feel the need to have relations with anyone else? His fists clenched at the very concept. You couldn’t be talking for show, you were say too genuine. Before he could even stop himself, he marched over to his bedroom door, ripping it open.

Only when he did had did he realize that you were in front of him, hand raised to knock on the door, “Oh, hey.” You gave him a smile as you slowly retreated your raised arm, “I was just gonna see if you wanted to watch a movie with me?” Every so often you both would have a movie night in which you would try to understand his feelings with small touches and ultimately fail. Nevertheless, you enjoyed his company. Today, you were buying into an article’s advice and watching a scary one. Not that you were terrified, but you were a jumpy person.

At this rate, you couldn’t tell if you were horny or just wanted affection.

Both, probably.

Your crush on Yoongi had only worsened throughout this whole experience to top it off. He was hot and kind who could blame you? And yet, he never made a single move as if he had no interest. God, what if he didn’t have any interest?

Your heart sank for a moment, “If not, I think I was gonna try to go out-”

“No!” Your eyes widened at Yoongi’s panicked tone when he cleared his throat, “I mean, I want to watch a movie, so you don’t have to go out.” He muttered and you nodded slowly. He could not have you going out, not after what he heard. You were craving other people. He couldn’t bear the thought.

“O…kay…” You smiled a bit, “Well, I picked a scary one if you think you can hang.” You gave him a sly smile before going to make popcorn.

He smiled as he watched you prance to the kitchen. You were so beautiful and fun and everything he’s ever needed. All that was left was for you to be his, but he didn’t want to scare you away. He had to be a gentleman. He had to wait for the right time. That’s what Jin, Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung said. The only issue was that he had no idea what the hell that meant.

“You know, Mr. Min-”

“Yoongi.” He was quick as ever to correct you, “Please.” He sounded more desperate than usual and you nodded.

“Right, well I was just going to say that you have absurd taste in snacks.” You said with a chuckle, “All I ever see in you cupboards are coffee.” You wistfully sigh, “I need to go grocery shopping.”

The sound of you being so domestic-made Yoongi break into an ill-concealed smile as he settled onto the sofa, setting the oddly scary movie you chose up, “I can take you on Saturday.” You nodded when you finally found a bag of chips and sat next to the man of your affection with a cushion between the two of you.

You really couldn’t say what the movie was about, you had only seen it between the gaps in your fingers all while Yoongi watched it with a straight face. When it ended he said a short goodnight as always, except something in you, lurched out.

“Actually, I think I may go out after all.” You swore you followed your mouth’s lead as opposed to the opposite. You just said shit and had to go along with it. Fuck, you didn’t want to go out. You wanted to stay home and be scared that there was a ghost in the closet, but now you had to get ready and shit.

“Why?” Yoongi stopped, hand gripping his door handle much harder than usual.

You were taken aback by the question. It was valid, you supposed. But was it? How do you even answer that question? “Well, it’s been a while since I've… ya know…” You clicked your tongue, suddenly too shy to say,

“Had sex?” It was so blunt, and his eyes pierced through you and yet, you could feel your core tingle.

You were nothing but a sputtering mess, “W-W, I-I, Mr. Min-”

“Yoongi, y/n.” He spoke through gritted teeth as he stalked over to you. Despite the unconscious steps back you were taking, the couch brought you to an abrupt stop.

“R-Right, anyways, I-” You shut your mouth when Yoongi hovered over you with his presence alone.

“Say it,” He glared daggers into your form, “Say my name.” Before you could even open your mouth Yoongi groaned, slamming his hands on the couch on either side of you in frustration, “God, why do you want other people when I’m right fucking here?” Your mouth was agape at this, “I’m so sick of holding myself back.” He cursed, body pressing against yours.

“What do you mean? Other people?” You mustered and Yoongi let out a chuckle void of humor.

“I listened to your podcast about wanting to be with someone and getting romance and…” Yoongi seriously thought you had been referring to anyone but him? Him? Seriously? The hot man in the place you live? You couldn’t stifle your laugh which caused his rant to falter, “How is this a laughing matter I am-”

“So fucking dense.” You giggled, “I’ve wanted you to at least look my way for the past three years, and you seriously think I want to be with other people?!” You sighed, “I live with you for fuck’s sake, and you won’t touch me!” Now, you were letting your frustrations out, “I brush your hand, I touch thighs with you, I-I scare the shit out of myself hoping you’ll at least hold me!” You heaved a breath, “And all you do is stay still!” You let out a frustrated yell, “The most attention I got from you was when I was almost attacked, is that what I need to do to draw sap from a fucking rock?!”

Yoongi flared at this, “Don’t ever think about putting yourself in danger.” He pointed at you, “I couldn’t take it, and I can’t take you not being honest with me, I thought you never noticed-” He was being a hypocrite, but he didn’t care.

“How could you say I don’t notice you when you straight up forgot I existed until this year?!” Yoongi was the one dumbfounded this time, and you took your chance to push past him, “I will go out tonight because I deserve-”

You couldn’t even breathe the next syllable before your back hit Yoongi’s bedroom door, his hands pinning your wrists above your own, the man breathing heavy. The air was thick with frustration as he gave you a stern look, “You deserve the world, I know,” The anger in you began to dissipate at his sincerity in his words, “And I am so in love with you, that I don’t think I’m worthy of giving it to you,” Your breath hitched at this, “But I don’t care anymore, because I would sooner kill someone before they put their hands on you, I’m sure you know I mean business, Sunshine?” You nodded, every cell in your body springing to life as Yoongi drew his lips closer to you, “So?”

You blew out a shaky breath with an equally shaky smile, “L-Love me? I-"

"Say you love me, and I’ll do it.” He was more rushed this time, urgent almost, “I’ll stop holding back, and I will give you all that you deserve and so, so much more.” He was almost pleading.

What the fuck do you know about love? What does it look like? Sound like? Is it the way Yoongi smiles at your dumb jokes in the morning? Is it the way his voice sounds through the walls as he practices newly-written lyrics? He was a good man to you. He was an attractive man. He could give you the world, and all he wanted in return was your love. Could all of this be love? Could it be the way he’s made you feel the past couple of years, especially the last couple of months?

Well, why the hell wouldn’t it be?

“I love you, Yoongi.” You breathed against his lips and he didn’t miss a beat in closing the gap so not even air could come between the two of you.

Electrifying all over again, but so, so different. This wasn’t fear. This was lust lighting a fire within you that Yoongi only stoked further as his silky tongue tangled with yours in a flurry of repressed emotions and endless unspoken confessions. His mouth attached to your neck and you let out a moan, quickly going to cover your mouth.

He ripped your hand away almost instantly, “You’re rarely this shy when you’re in your room, why deny me your sounds now?” He growled against your ear and the pure sex in his voice only made you moan louder. He was the rain you had admired from afar, but now he was pressed against you, and holy shit, were you getting wet.

“Yoongi, I don’t know if I can wait, I want to cum so fucking ba-ah!” You yelped when his hand went to cup your sex under the long shirt you always wore. You were on your tippy-toes, too sensitive to press your full weight onto him.

“Such an innocent-looking girl with such a nasty mouth.” He squeezed you in his hand and watched in glory as your eyes rolled back, “Since you’re a fan, I’ll be nice.” He teased as he got onto his knees, dragging your panties down with him to the floor.

“Oh shit.” You let out a breath that was quickly stolen when his tongue pressed against your entry. He lifted your leg, placing it over his shoulder as his mouth lapped at your clit and you lost yourself in the feeling, moaning mindlessly.

“You taste like deliverance.” He mumbled against your pussy and this only made your eyes roll back at the eroticism in his words. You couldn’t even keep track of what he was doing anymore.

All you could do was feel. His tongue fucked you into oblivion as he held your hips still, determined to make you come with his mouth, and his mouth alone. He let out a lewd suck and you quivered at the sensation and action. He knew how to play you and please you that you did. His tongue entered you again and he let out a delicious moan which vibrated against your folds, “Fuck, you sound and feel so fucking good!” You cried out as his tongue made thick strokes against you that only sped up expertly as he moaned into you, “Can I cum, Yoongi?” You asked, a smart girl, he concluded. He smirked against you, full intention to deny your request until, “Please, my love, I want to cum in your mouth like a good girl.” You begged pathetically and he couldn’t refuse you. You had him wrapped around your finger and hardly knew it. He got to work quickly, tongue entering you again only to flick upwards and you groaned at this. Groans were quickly replaced by increased screaming as he stiffened his tongue and licked all around your sex. You began to scream his name like a mantra as you tighten around the muscle and came the hardest you ever had.

You slumped against the door, chest heaving, “You okay, baby?” The nickname from him elicited a tired smile. You looked down at the man, lips glossy as he licked them. He sat back on his calves and you wasted no time in diving at him on the floor.

Before he could react, you gripped him through his sweatpants and smiled when you realized he was rock hard, “Can I please ride you?” You looked up at him through your eyelashes and he knew he couldn’t possibly say no.

“Your wish is my command, sunshine.” He growled when you straddle him as he sat, legs spread and back against the back of the couch now. You gave a less than innocent smile as you reached for his member, delicate hands wrapping around him, only to pull it free and closer to your entrance, “Condom?” He questioned.

“Pill, I need to feel you, fuck.” You panted, against logical judgment, but it was lost when you pressed the head against your own entrance, “Shit.” You ground against Yoongi as his head lolled back.

He could hardly handle it as your hips twirled, the tip just outside your entrance. Finally, he had enough, and with strong hands pulled your hips to fill you to the hilt. Your mouth popped open in shock and pure masochistic delight as the pain only added to the high of lust Yoongi gave you, “Sorry, baby girl, I knew you would feel so fucking good.” He emphasized this with a thrust up, “Plus, I could hardly resist being deep inside you immediately.” He growled in sadistic pride as your face twisted in pain and pleasure.

“Hurts so good.” Your hips moved spastically, chasing another high with Yoongi deep inside you. Not once did you lift your hips. You wanted to stay full, and Yoongi was more than happy to oblige, “So good, I wanna stay like this.” You moaned out as he sucked on your neck, hands going under your shirt to grip your breasts with a fevor you craved.

“You feel like heaven.” He grunted against your neck as he littered it with hickey after hickey. You were his and the way you squeezed around him and clawed at his shoulder only spurred him further.

Yoongi could feel himself twitching inside you and this only made you gasp as you gleefully squeezed around him, “Yes, yes,” You sounded like a prayer to him, “Cum inside me, I need it.” You were nearly screaming as he began to thrust into you at a rapid pace.

“Yeah? You want me to paint those pretty walls white, hm?” He teased you despite the strain in his voice, “Fuck it right into that pretty pussy of yours, no mine.” He grabbed your hips, working your body for his own high, “This is my pussy, isn’t it?"

"Yes, it’s all yours, Yoongi!” You yelled and with that, he groaned as he came, ropes of cum that you could feel as his hips made good of his promise to fuck it into you. You milked him as you squeezed tighter before coming undone as you came with a scream that sounded like the next symphonic masterpiece to the fucked out man inside you.

You huffed a small chuckle against his neck as your curled your form around his, “So needy.” He teased as he went to remove himself inside of you only to be met with a squeeze from you that made him curse, “You’re gonna kill me, I swear.”

You giggled, “I like how you feel inside of me.” You shrugged before shivering at the empty feeling only to gasp when three fingers were shoved into you. You wiggled in glee, “Fuck.” Your breath hot against his neck.

"You just like to be full, huh baby?“ You nodded shyly, "You’re perfect.” He chuckled as he used his other hand to stroke your back.

—-

“Announcement time, my dear listeners” You spoke in the studio, trying not to sound like it was through gritted teeth. You counted your blessings that you were alone, “As you know, your dear old Sugar Sun has promised a face reveal and I-Min Yoongi!” Well, mostly alone. You heaved a breath as you came against his mouth for the third time.

The man between your legs looked up at you, eyes way too innocent, “What? I’m waiting for my part.” He spoke nonchalantly despite the wetness on his lips.

“I’ll never get there if you keep making me cum and start over.” You glared and the man shrugged, “I got far enough, right, babe?” You pouted and watched his resolve crack, “Honeypie?” You pleaded and he faltered, “Love of my life?” He grumbled as he sat up next to you in front of the mic.

“Fine, go ahead.” He licked his lips.

“…and I decided to go a step further.” You smiled as the man next to you held your hand, “I will be doing a photoshoot to reveal my face and my collab partner to an upcoming song and my boyfriend…”

You looked to him, eyes twinkling, “That would be my cue.” He placed a quiet kiss on your head, “My name is Min Yoongi or Agust D as some of you may know, and I look forward to my career and life with this little piece of sunshine.” You giggled at this.

“So cheesy.” You gave him a bright smile nonetheless, “Crazy news, I know, but I secured the fucking bag, my dear listeners, he’s never getting rid of me."

You were joking for the most part, but you didn’t know how right you were. You would not be away from him any longer. You were his sunshine, his little songbird, and his world all at the same time. He needed you like he needed to breathe. Now, you were his. You were his sunshine despite the rain he embodied. The rainbow between the two of you was too intoxicating to even bear the idea of giving it up. Even for a fraction of second. You were his. Every moment, minute, second, everything would be together. He was yours now and forever just as you were his. Blissfully and eternally in love.

"I’m too crazy to let go now.” You laughed as he kissed your temple affectionately.

So was he.

Buy me a ko-fi (it would make my day)

Masterlist

#yandere bts #yandere yoongi #bts fanfic #bts smut #yoongi smut #bts oneshot #bts yandere au #yandere bts smut #bts #bts fluff #yoongi fluff #min yoongi

832 notes · View notes

metaphorical-love-for-a-car · 4 years

Text

Sunshine After Rain-- Connor (RK800) x Reader (Part 2)

Summary; After the death of your little brother, Cole, your dad hated androids. He blamed them for Cole's death. Hank couldn't stand to be around them. How the hell are you supposed to tell him that your soulmate is an android?

Warnings; swearing, terrible writing

Word Count; 3.2k

Notes;

Part One

Your mind felt heavy. How could your soulmate possibly be an android? There was no way you could tell Hank, not at the moment, at least. You glanced over at him. He was sitting at his desk, pouting over whatever Fowler just told him. You knocked on the captain's office door. Fowler looked up from his paperwork and motioned for you to enter. "I gotta get some air. I'll be back at some point this afternoon." You started to leave, but he called you back in.

"Actually, I'm gonna need you to stick around. An AX400 attacked its owner and kidnapped the guy's daughter. It was spotted down in the Raven Dale district." He reached into a bin and pulled out a sealed bag containing a pink sweater. "I want you to go down there with Hank and Connor to help them track down the kid. Her dad brought this by this morning." You carefully took the bag and examined it. "You'll be able to get some air in the Raven Dale district, right?" You sighed, nodding.

As you walked out of Fowler's office, you saw Hank shove Connor against a wall. Hank yelled at Connor to stop pissing him off. Another officer politely got Hank's attention back to the case at hand. "Hey, dad, Fowler wants me to tag along to see if I can help track the kid down." You called out, catching up to his retreating form.

"Good, I'll have someone to help me keep that plastic bastard in check." You rolled your eyes.

"I'm sure he's not that bad." Hank shot you a disgusted look.

"You've obviously hardly been around the thing. It's fucking annoying."

To save time, the three of you rode together in Hank's car. No one said a word. Awkward silence reigned until Hank started blasting heavy metal. Every once in a while, you would accidentally make eye contact with Connor in the rearview mirror, but you would both quickly look away. You tried to keep you attention on your dog and the case, but your mind kept roaming to the incident with Connor. Sure, he was pretty handsome, but how would a relationship with an android even work? You shook your head in an attempt to clear all the thoughts that were cluttering your mind.

As soon as the car stopped, you clamored out. Hank raised a brow at you but didn't say anything. He walked over to another officer, and the two started questioning the nearby witness. You attached the leash to your dog's collar and led it out of the car. A hand wrapped around your arm, and color exploded before your eyes. You gasped, turning to face Connor. "I do not understand what is happening every time we make contact. My programing is unable to process the circumstances. I feel it is best to remind you, (y/n), that I am an android. I am not a living being capable of having a soulmate." You pulled away from his grip.

"I never said you were," you retorted. Connor nodded.

"I am glad we can agree on that." You rolled your eyes and snatched the evidence bag from the car. Hank walked over to the two of you. He and Connor started talking about deviants having emotions. You opened the bag and carefully pulled out a corner of the soft fabric, holding it out to your dog's direction. It sniffed the sweater before turning its nose to the air.

"It's been raining a lot. Hopefully we can still track it down." Hank crossed his arms, watching the dog sniff around. The dog barked, leading you across the street. You pushed open a gate, allowing your dog to investigate a broken down car. It then made its way to a hole in a chainlink fence separating the lot from an abandoned house. The dog barked again, pawing at the fence. "We got a lead!" You called out. You got down on your knees and crawled through the hole. Moments later, Connor was following suit.

Hank and the other officers used bolt cutters to remove the lock on the front gate. Your dog tugged on its leash, trying to go towards the house. You looked at Connor and nodded. He went in front of you and knocked on the door. "Anybody home?" He shouted. The two of your waited a moment. You could hear shuffling inside. Connor swung the door open and marched inside. You stood in the doorway. Your eyes scanned the area, and your hand hovered over the pistol in your belt. Connor approached the damaged android that was sitting at a table in the middle of the room. The other android, Ralph, swore that he had not seen anyone. Your dog sniffed the floor then snorted. You loosened the leash, allowing the dog to follow the scent trail. You slowly crept closer to the staircase while Connor looked around the main threshold.

Without warning, Ralph leapt from the table and grabbed you. His arms tightened around you. You hardly breathe, let alone move from his grasp. He yelled at the AX400 to run. Your dog snarled and barked wildly. "Down!" You shouted at the animal. The last thing you needed was for it to attack one of the androids or the little girl. The dog laid on the ground as commanded but continued to snarl at Ralph. Connor pulled Ralph away from him, shoving Ralph to the ground. Hank jogged into the house.

"What the hell is going on?"

"It's here. Call it in!" Connor shouted before dashing out the door. You picked up the leash and went to follow him, but Hank blocked your path.

"Are you okay? You've been acting weird all morning."

"Dad, I'm fine. Shouldn't we focus on the task at hand?" You huffed, moving around him. You ran out of the house. Another officer told you what direction they went. "Then why the hell are you just standing here?" you muttered, dashing down the sidewalk. You dodged civilians as you thundered down the street with your dog at your side. You saw an officer dash down an alleyway and followed. He aimed his gun at the deviant, but Connor stopped him from shooting. You all watched as the deviant and the little girl slid down to the highway. Hank came up from behind, clearly out of breath.

"Oh, fuck. That's insane."

"There's no way they'll make it across alive." Connor started to scale the fence, but Hank pulled him back down. They started arguing about whether he should go after them or not. Connor decided to ignore Hank and continue to climb the fence. You reached up and grabbed his arm. He looked down into your eyes. "Come on, Connor. We don't need you getting destroyed again. It'll just slow down the investigation,” you tried to reason. He looked out onto the highway, and you followed his gaze. You watched the different colored vehicles zip down the road. You glanced back up at him. "Connor, please, just get down from there. We found them once, I'm sure we'll be able to find them again." Connor blinked slowly.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY

He slowly climbed back down, and you removed your hand from his arm, sighing as the color drained from your vision.

You and Hank started walking back to the car. "How the hell did you do that?" he inquired with raised brows. You shot him a confused look. Hank scoffed. "How did you get it to listen to you? The damn thing seems to never hear a word I say." You shrugged.

"I don't know. Probably because of my charming personality, which is something you seem to lack." You playfully elbowed his side. Hank gave an exasperated laugh.

"Oh yeah, very funny." He stopped, putting a hand over his stomach. "I'm starving. We should grab a bite before heading back to the station." You smiled, already knowing where he was thinking about going.

"Hell yeah!" You climbed in the backseat, letting Connor sit shotgun. Hank turned up the music as soon as the engine sputtered to life. You gasped and gently shook Hank's shoulder. "Dad, play Killer Queen!" Hank rolled his eyes at your childish antics but complied, reaching up to adjust the stereo. You smiled and sang along to the music that was blasting from the old car's speakers. You poked Hank's shoulder until he finally started to sing too. "Connor, join in! You're the only one not singing." He stared at you with furrowed brows. "Quit being a party pooper and sing!" He turned his gaze to Hank, who just shrugged.

"Might as well give in Connor, they'll just keep buggin' ya until you do." Connor sighed. He mouthed along to the words. You lightly thumped his temple.

"That's not singing," you teased. Connor rolled his eyes and finally joined in. The three of you sang without a care in the world. It took him a while to warm up, but Connor eventually started singing as loud as you. "She's a killer queen! Gunpowder, gelatin dynamite with a laser beam-- guaranteed to blow your mind!"

"I swear, sometimes you act like you're still a child," Hank said as he parked the car. When he climbed out, you leaned forward to look at Connor. He was smiling.

"See, wasn't that fun?" He slightly tilted his head with a hum.

"Yes, I suppose it was." You smiled back at him before climbing out of the car. Connor stared at his lap. His brows knitted together. He wasn't supposed to develop emotions. He wasn't supposed to have a soulmate. He's an android, not a living being. He wouldn't let himself become a deviant.

You caught up with Hank at the counter of the little food truck. Although it wasn't the healthiest of choices, Chicken Feed made one damn good burger. You weren't too hungry, so you just ordered some tater tots and a soda. The owner, Gary, was a good friend of Hank's. He usually didn't charge either of you for your food, which you were very grateful for. As the two of you waited for your orders, Connor came to stand beside Hank. "Look, you don't have to follow me around look a poodle," he huffed. Connor tried to apologize to Hank, which made him laugh. You thanked Gary when he handed over your food. You followed Hank over to one of the tall tables nearby, and Connor followed behind you. The android made a snarky comment about how you both shouldn't eat your meals because it was unhealthy. Hank shrugged and continued to eat his burger, while you threw a tater tot at Connor.

"Unlike you, we only live once. So I will continue to eat whatever the hell I want." Hank snorted, and Connor looked slightly offended by the fact that you threw a tater tot at him. There were a few brief moments of silence before Connor spoke again.

"Is there anything you'd like to know about me?" Hank wrinkled his nose.

"Hell no.. Well, yeah, why did they make you look so goofy and give you that weird voice?" You laughed aloud but quickly covered your mouth to stifle your giggles. Hank looked slightly proud at his joke while Connor just raised a brow. He then explained that he was specifically designed to work harmoniously with humans. Hank nodded, as if he understood. "Well, they fucked up." You snorted.

"Leave him alone, dad. You're not the best looking either." Hank scoffed and rolled his eyes. A wide smile crossed your face.

"Don't you fucking dare say it."

"You're giving him grief about having a weird voice when you're the one that sounds like Mr. Krabs from SpongeBob!" you said in between laughs. Hank nudged you with his elbow, and you retaliated by throwing a tater tot at him. Connor cleared his throat and suggested that they reconvene by discussing the deviant cases. You sipped on your soda as they talked. You were only half paying attention, glancing at the two in between bites.

"Adapting to human unpredictability is one of my key features," he said with a wink. You started choking on your drink. Hank looked at you quizzically. You grimaced and cleared your throat. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

"Sorry, it went down the wrong way." You coughed before popping the last tater tot into your mouth.

Connor started to blink rapidly. His LED indicator flashed. He alerted the two that he had just received information concerning a deviant case not far from their current location. Connor suggested that they go investigate once you two finished your meals. With that, he turned on his heel and headed back to the car. Hank turned to face you. "So, what was all that about?" You feigned confusion, and he just raised a brow at you, waiting for you to answer.

"Nothing, dad. Like I said earlier, I'm fine." Hank hummed and sipped on his drink, clearly not believing you. You rolled your eyes and threw your trash in a nearby trashcan. "Well, since you've got another case, I guess I'll be sticking around a little while longer."

You followed Hank out of the elevator. Casting a glance over your shoulder, you saw Connor still standing in the elevator with his eyes closed. "What is he doing?" You looked over at Hank. He threw his hands up.

"I don't understand half the things he does. Hey, Connor!" The android opened his eyes to see the two of you staring at him. "Did you run out of batteries or what?" He apologized, stating that he was making a report to CyberLife. You raised your brows in awe.

"You can do that just by closing your eyes?" Connor nodded. "That's so cool! I wish I could do that. It would make paperwork hella easier." Hank snorted.

"You got that right." He started walking down the hall, and you motioned for Connor to follow. Hank grumbled about having to investigate a strange noise. Connor walked around the hall, analyzing everything. You squinted at a large pile of feathers near the apartment door.

"That's a lot of feathers. I wonder if the deviant has a pet bird or two."

Connor knocked on the door but received no answer. He looked to you and Hank, and you just shrugged in response. He knocked louder. Still no answer. He knocked one last time, announcing that they were with the Detroit Police Department. A loud crash sounded from the other side. Within seconds, Hank had his gun out and was standing in front of you. "You two, stay behind me." You pulled out your own weapon. Connor swept you behind himself.

"Connor, I can take care of myself ya know," you muttered.

"I can be replaced, and as you pointed out earlier, you only live once. Having someone injured could be detrimental to the investigation."

"Fine," you huffed. Hank kicked the door in. He led the way inside the apartment, making sure that no one was hiding around a corner before entering a room.

The three of you separated into different rooms. You walked into the living room. You frowned as pigeons flew all around the room upon your entrance. You made sure to watch your step, not wanting to get shit all over your shoes. A large drawing on one of the walls caught your eye. You made your way to it and traced its details with your finger. Connor came to stand beside you. He seemed more interested in an urban farm poster than the drawings. He peeled back the poster, discovering a hole in the wall that was hiding a journal. Connor pulled it out and flipped through the pages. You leaned over to look at it and furrowed your brows. "Do you have a program that can decode it?" Connor tucked the journal in a pocket inside his jacket.

"No, it's indecipherable." You hummed, turning to face the closet next to you. You swung open the doors and screeched. Hank and Connor swirled around to face you. You swung your arms wildly as a flock of pigeons flew out of the closet.

"Fucking rats with wings!" you hissed. Hank's laughter filled the air as you scowled at him. Even Connor seemed amused. "You would've screamed too if they were coming for you!" You turned to Connor. "If you don't wipe that smug smile off your face, I'm gonna shove a pigeon in your face." He tilted his head.

"How can I wipe away a facial expression?"

"You have so much to learn about slang," you sighed. The three of you continued to search around the small apartment. Hank would randomly make a smartass comment about the pigeons just to annoy you, and you would retaliate by flipping him off.

Without warning, someone fell from the ceiling and knocked Connor over. When the deviant ran out of the apartment, Hank shouted something about chasing it. Connor was the first to dash out of the door, and you attempted to keep up until they stared doing parkour type shit. You and Hank gaped at the two androids as they started jumping on to moving trains. The two of you somehow managed to find another way around and made it to the greenhouses. The deviant ran into Hank, and he fell over the ledge. Everything seemed to go in slow motion. Your heart skipped a beat as you lunged forward in attempt to help pull him back to safety. Connor was stuck between chasing after the deviant or helping you. "Connor, get your ass over here and help me!" You shouted, cutting through his analysis.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY.

He clinched his jaw as he stepped forward. Connor reached over and helped you pull Hank back onto the roof. You sighed in relief. Hank got to his feet and ranted about how they would have caught it if it wasn't for him.

"Dad, don't say that. It'll be okay. We know what it looks like, and I'm sure we'll be able to track it down again. Right, Connor?" The android nodded.

"It wasn't your fault, Lieutenant. I should've been faster."

"Both of you need to quit being so hard on yourselves. We did good today." Hank nodded and started walking back through the greenhouses.

You gently grabbed Connor's arm to stop him. When he turned to face you, you wrapped your arms around him in an embrace. He stiffened, unsure of what to do. Connor's LED flashed yellow until it settled on blue as he returned the embrace. "I know your main goal is to complete your mission with capturing deviants, but I just.." You paused, sighing. "I just wanted to thank you for what you did back there." You pulled away from the embrace, but kept a hand on his arm so you could see the color in his eyes. "My dad's the only family I have left. I would go batshit crazy if something bad happened to him and there was something that could've been done to prevent it." Connor's eyes softened as he looked over your facial features. He went to move his hand but hesitated. He took a breath before reaching up to touch a strand of your (h/l), (h/c) hair.

"Of course, (y/n)."

Hank turned around and saw the two of you. At first he scowled, but then he saw how gentle Connor was with you. He hummed, deep in thought. Hank turned on his heel and continued walking.

~*~*~

Want to be added to a tag list? Follow the link in my bio or just click here!

Permanent Tag List:

@blitchen

@blitchen-fics

@phire23

Sunshine After Rain Tag List:

@creation-magician

@mysteriouswritingzonthewall

Connor (RK800) Tag List:

@sammyyyygp

Detroit Become Human Tag List:

@katsavoie17

@dumb-ass-ghost

@peter-the-pan

#detroit become human #detroit become human connor #detroit become human x reader #connor x reader #connor rk800 #connor imagine #connor rk800 imagine #Bryan Dechart #bryan dechart x reader #hank anderson #dbh hank anderson #hank anderson x reader #DBH #dbh hank #dbh connor #dbh rk800

113 notes · View notes

hrh-selene-r · 4 years

Text

My Marigold

@danitisx Your wish, is my command.

See the pyramids along the nile

Watch the sunrise on a tropic isle

Just remember darlin' all the while

You belong to me.

The soft country music sounds unfurl throughout the trailer as they couple with the savory scents coming from the kitchen as Clyde starts whippin’ up dinner for tonight. It’s Monday, and that meant that the bar was closed for the day, on account of today bein’ the day their suppliers bring in the groceries and the alcohol orders; giving Clyde the day off.

He didn’t really do much during the day, there was just something in the air that made today one of those lazy warm spring days. Just like any other week day, Clyde had woken up to the sound of birds singing outside in the bright midday light; his eyes tired, and his expression groggy as he pouts, still half-asleep, reaching out to the other side of the bed, his fingers hoping to find your beautiful soft skin and being met by empty bed sheets. It takes him a moment to remember what day it was before realizing that you were probably already at work before rolling over to your side to smell your long-cold pillow, reveling in that unidentifiable smell that is so uniquely yours.

That was one of the hardest things about being a bartender; your schedules were all messed up, and while Clyde mostly worked nights, you worked during the day. It was usually during the weekends that the both of you had the chance to just wake up during midday and spend time together snuggling or lazing about before Clyde had to go to work.

See the market place in old algiers

Send me photographs and souvenirs

Just remember when a dream appears

You belong to me

The song kept playing while he thought of you and how it was ya’ll had met.

Now most people don’t know this, but Clyde is an avid reader; ever since he was a boy you’d find his nose buried in a book or a novel that piqued his interest, in his own little world. Even during his tours overseas, you’d be able to find him with a book tucked into his pack, stained and foxed, protected as if it was his most precious possession. It was one of the few luxuries he had in Iraq; the one, if not the only, comfort he had during that time. By now, he was well familiar with the smell of the old books that line his wall in testament to each and every story and topic. And It was because of his love of books that he was lucky enough to have met you..

He can remember it as if it was still today; the fall air carried the smell of petrichor throughout the streets as he walked along the main avenue, making his way towards Goldberg’s bookstore, in search of a novel a patron at the bar had recommended. He remembers the bookshelves bathed in light coming in from the windows, the all-to familiar smell of books in the air caressing his nose as he walked through row after row.

And there you were; your voice like a song, your smile like warm sunshine and your eyes welcoming. Y/N was your name, the name of an Angel if he’d ever hear one. You were new in the shop, recently moved to Boone County to help out Mr. Goldberg, an old family friend, with his business, you’d explained, in hopes of learnin’ the ropes and hopefully settin’ up your own business in the future.

As you went on and on about different novels and genres you recommended for him to read, he slowly became enamored by you, entranced with that sweet smile he could warm his heart in the coldest of snow storms. It was like the world fell away, leaving the two of you alone in the universe, and for every word that you said to him, the more enamored he became.

In a way meeting you was like poetry, he figured. You were both opposites, attracted to each other by a force unknown to many; unexplained, but felt. He was quiet, where you were talkative; grumpy, where you were Happy; reserved, where you were boisterous; and introverted, where you radiated open exuberance.

But you were his darlin’, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He wouldn't trade a single moment with you talkin’ his ear off, wouldn’t trade a single late night dance in your living room, or any of your moments in bed talkin’ for nothin’ in this world.

Fly the ocean in a silver plane

See the jungle when it's wet with rain

Just remember till you're home again

You belong to me

The whole house smelled like fresh herbs and citrus as the chicken finished cookin’ in the oven, as he blanched the vegetables for tonight. You’d be getting home soon, and he wanted to surprise you by makin’ you dinner just for the two o’ you. ‘Hopefully, there’d be dessert after’, he inwardly muses to himself, his smile pullin’ at his cheeks, showing off the dimples you always teased him for.

He was just getting the chicken out of the oven when he heard the sound of the door closin’ shut.

“Hi Baby.” He can hear you call out from the living room over rustling and shuffling of the sounds of you taking off your jacket and purse. Most likely, you laid both on your usual spot in the couch before the footsteps souffle around a bit round the living room.

You made your way into the kitchen, looking at Clyde’s muscular back turned towards you. His chest was covered by a dark colored band tee shirt that fit him deliciously well, his pants were a normal pair of cargo shorts, reaching his knees. Just last night you were able to admire your beloved’s physique as you laid awake, running your hands through his chest, stopping just right between his pecs, playing with the little tufts of hair that grew there as the night drew on and one as sleep eluded you; your thoughts too loud in the deafening silence to let you do much else.

It never ceased to amaze you, how this gorgeous and sexy mountain of a man came to love you. How was it that someone you caught the eye of someone like him, you’ll never know.

You try to quiet all the thoughts in your head as you go over to him, hugging him from behind as you nestled your face between his shoulder blades. Your hands clasped on his toned abdomen as he placed his own sweetly on top o’ yours.

“Hey Darlin’ ” He whispers to you before turning around in your arms to face you, wrapping his arms around you.

His nose caress your jaw as he leans down, nuzzling his face with yours before his lips connect with yours. The kiss is sweet and chaste; but much too short for his liking.

‘Something’s wrong’, he realized. You’re not being your cheery self. His warm ray of summer sunshine. He cradles your head in his large right hand as he looks at you concerned. The light in your eyes were dulled with something he couldn’t place. That beautiful smile he’d move heaven and earth for was now hidden from his sight, never to be seen.

You make a move to separate from him, but he won’t let ya as he wraps his left arm around your waist.

“Everythin’ alright?” He asks you, his voice soft and cautious, betraying his ever growing concern.

“Yeah” You reply curtly, not wanting to elaborate, and Clyde didn’t want to push it; you’d tell him eventually. Right?

Dinner was quiet, at least, too quiet for his liking. During this time you always talked about how your day was, or what news you read about that day, or what movie or tv show you wanted to watch. But now it was too quiet. At first, he thought that maybe you’re just havin’ a bad day; everyone can have one a those after all, so he let it slide as you both sat on the couch to watch some TV together before headin’ out to bed. The usual warmth and cozyness that came with sharin the bed was absent that night as you separated from him and slept on your side, with your back to him.

‘You’ll talk to me when you’re good and ready’ he reminds himself as drifter off to sleep, hoping to just get this day over with.

The week past and still no change; now he was worried.

Clyde just couldn’t understand what was happenin’. He tried to let his worry know by being more affectionate, reminding you that he’s here for you, but you wouldn’t talk. YOU wouldn’t talk.

Now his own home felt uncomfortable. He was used to waking up to the sound of your footsteps, hearing you move around in the kitchen, talkin’ on the phone or turnin’ the TV on. He was used to late night impromptu dances to old romantic country songs or pop music on the living room floor.

Now it was just silence, interrupted by a few comments or questions here and there and not much else.

He knew something was wrong, but how can he approach the subject; it’s obvious you didn’t wanna talk about it, but how can he bare it to see you like this? To see his beautiful wildflower look dispirited and wilted; troubled by some unknowable issue that he doesn’t know.

To see you like this breaks his heart, causing a deep emptiness inside of himself, feeling useless and worthless for not being a good enough boyfriend and knowing what’s wrong.

Was it something he did, or something he didn’t do? Was it someone else that caused this change in you? Did something happen at work? He wanted to know, wanted to see if there was anything HE could do to soothe your troubles. He just can’t bare it. It’s like you were so muted that nothing he said got through to you.

He tried to make conversation during breakfast today, reaching out to hold your hand, but you only looked at him and gave him a brief polite smile that didn’t reach your eyes; it’s clear your mind was worlds away and all he wanted to do was reach out, to touch those beautiful cheeks of yours and see you smile.

It wasn’t until he was washing the dishes for you that he finally said ‘fuck it’ and decided to broach the subject. He was tired of walkin’ on egg shells letting walk around like a ghost half the time.

You were layin’ on the couch when he came over, your eyes glued to your phone as your right leg fidgets incessantly; a tell tale sign that you were anxious or nervous he thinks as he sits beside you on the couch.

“Darlin’, is something wrong?” Clyde asks you patiently.

You simply shrug your shoulders before you answer him curtly with “No, nothing’s wrong.” but that’s a lie if he ever heard one. ‘Okay, enough o’ this.’ he says to himself as he square his shoulders to seriously talk to you.

“Honey, you’ve been like this since last monday; you’ve been walkin’ around, and you’re a million miles away. You’re not talkin’...You’ve barely been eatin’. Now, what’s got you like this sweetheart? What’s takin’ away that gorgeous smile o’ yours?” Clyde asked you gently as if you were a child, slowly caressing your cheek as he did. You saw his concern, and you can’t blame him either. You’ve been so shitty to him lately, and…

“It’s nothing.” You repeat to him, stubborn as a mule, he’d call you; well, you guess you’re proving him right. You just didn’t want to mix him into this, into your own shit show. You slowly shake your head trying to emphasize that nothing’s wrong.

“Y/N”

“It’s nothing, okay? How many times do I have to say it?!” The dam finally breaks unleashing a monsoon of emotions as you get up, yelling at him as you do, your mind forgetting that he isn’t the reason for this, but honestly...he poked the fucking bear.

Clyde isn’t one to take this lyin’ down as he got up, his height towering over yours when he came with a retort. “As many times as I gotta say it until ya talk to me!” His twang came out as he raised his voice just by a bit. He figures if he has to force it outta ya, he might as well do it; rip the band-aid off, so to speak.

“Honestly, why do you get off my back for once?! Leave it at that!”

“Because that’s not what ya do! Ya don’t talk ta’ me, you don’t eat, you don’t dance and you’re always a million miles away. It’s like ya ain’t here at all!” Clyde exhales deeply through his nose, trying to hold on to his patience. The last thing he needed was to blow off in your face, but he can’t help but get frustrated as you shake your head, effectively stonewallin’ him; shutting him out.

“Why can’t you just tell me what’s wrong? Is it that hard to let me know?” he asks you desperately. You just keep shaking your head at him, but he sees it. Your eyes start to water as you turn your face away from him, trying to see anything but him. It’s enough that your life is a shitstorm right now, you really didn’t need this, not right now. “What the fuck is so wrong about that?”

You move to walk to the bedroom and away from him but he follows you to the hallway, and you stop. You didn’t want to lash out, he didn’t deserve it, but at this point, it isn’t something he can help. “Just fuck off, and leave would you?!”.....

The silence is deafening as he waited there standing next to you. Your eyes water as she can see Clyde’s hurt face, and that’s it; you can’t hold everything in anymore. You feel as if the weight of the world is crushing you as you slide down the wall to the floor, your face lookin’ down as you close your eyes. “I can’t, I can’t.” Clyde hears you whisperin’. He quietly moves his massive figure to sit beside you, his jaw trembles as it breaks his heart seeing you like this. “I can’t….I can’t do this anymore! I can’t take care of everyone! I’m only one person, I can’t work at the bookstore, help my mom, help daddy, and I fought with my sisters because I can’t keep takin’ care of Camila...I feel like I’m drowning, and I’m just so fuckin’ exhausted...And then you’re asleep and then you work nights at the bar. And I know it isn’t fair because that’s your job, and I don’t want you to feel bad about it and...I’m tired, I can’t.” Tears start to slip down your eyes as you look downward to your knees, sniffling as you start to cry from the stress of it all, from feeling like you’ve been runnin’ a marathon with no end in sight.

“And I don’t want you to know, because...I don’t want you to stop lookin’ at me that way.” You managed to get out while looking at him in the eye. Clyde cradles your head with his right hand wiping the tears from your cheeks before asking the questions that's floatin’ in his head. “Like what honey?

In the silence of the trailer on a saturday afternoon, he heard your pained whisper and he felt it in his heart. “Like I’m perfect, like I can do anything.” You break down and cry, breaking Clyde's heart further; causing him to pull you into his arms and cradle your head in the crook of his neck, embracing you like you’re the most important thing in the world to me. You feel the cold touch of metal as he embraces you fully in his arms while he sits you in his lap on the floor; letting you cry into his shirt as he waits until you calmed down.

“Baby, you can’t expect to do everythin’. You can’t take care of your mommy, your daddy, and help your sister out with ‘er kids and do everything at work. Take a deep breath. It’s okay, you’re human; and you may act like it, but you’re not a superwoman…. I just wish you’d just told me all o’ this before. You know you can always tell me anythin’, no matter what happens I’ll always look at you like you’re perfect, because to me you’re the most perfect woman in the world; my own wonder woman.” He crooned softly to you as you cried. “If ya need help, all ya had to do was ask. We’ll get your sister someone to help with her kids, maybe your mama can help her. And we can figure out how to take care of things, ok? Don’t ya worry.” he kissed your forehead gently and held you tighter to him.

Eventually, your tears stopped, and your cries turned to sniffles as Clyde held you in his strong arms. His shirt is stained with your tears, but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t mind it neither when you play with a lock of his dark hair as the both of you just sit there, together; isolated in the silence of your home.

Clyde slowly got up, picking you up in his arms quiet effortlessly as he made his way to your bedroom. You smush your face against his shirt, not wanting to see anything else besides him. He was sweet and gentle when he placed you in their bed, treating you as if you were a child to be put to sleep. You held onto him, making it difficult to get in bed beside you, but when he finally did, the both of you locked in a mutual embrace.

The smell of Clyde’s scent lulls your senses as you burrow further in his cozy arms, tangling your legs together so as to be as close as possible.

The peace of the mutual silence was disturbed as you spoke to him in the softest of whispers possible. “Thank you.” At this he pulled back a bit to take a good look at ya for a bit. Your eyes are still wet, your nose red, from all the cryin’, your skin is flushed and your hair is a bit messy; it was one of the beautiful sights he’s ever seen. To him you look perfect, no matter what.

‘I guess this is what they mean when someone says I love you, warts and all.’ he thought to himself, feeling more in love with you and closer to you than he ever thought possible.

It was here in the quiet that you asked yourself again; just how did you get so lucky as to find yourself here, in the loving arms of someone like him. Clyde was your rock, your port in the storm, and not for the first time, you find yourself thanking the universe for bringing him into your life; this soft-spoken, towering, book-readin’, country-music-singin’’, nature-lovin’, well-mannered, shy and lovin’ man.

You look at him, giving you the softest smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he did so.

“I love you, my Marigold.” he said before nudging your chin up, tilting your head to meet his plush lips with yours. The kiss was soft and slow, for how long neither knew, before he let go and nuzzled his nose against yours with affection. His facial hair tickled, causing you to giggle a bit. To Clyde, it was the most beautiful sound. He was happy that he got his smile back.

That’s when he knew, you’d be alright.

The moment served as a silent promise, that he’ll love you when you’re alright...and that he’ll be here when you’re not.

——————————————————

#Clyde Logan #clyde logan/reader #clyde logan x reader #clyde logan x you #clyde logan/you #clyde logan fic #adam driver #clyde x reader #logan lucky #fluff #request #danitisx #angst #angst with a happy ending #adriver

82 notes · View notes

bandaged-writer · 4 years

Text

gasoline 02 || dazai

➤ Pairing: Mafia! Dazai x Ability User! Reader

➤ Genre: action, fluff, angst, eventual smut, gore, violence

➤ Warnings: nightmare-ish scenes, minor character death, murder, blood/gore, near death experience

➤ Summary: “How the hell am I supposed to trust the words of a mafioso?” At that, Dazai chuckled. “I don’t lie about these things.”

➤ Word count: 6.1k

➤ Note: this is unedited and not proof-read, we die like men. also, feedback is highly appreciated u.u

➤ previous || next

Pure laughter bounced off the sterile tiles that stretched themselves throughout the entirety of the hospital, the light made beating down on the white tiles and making it seem like they glared at anyone who was daring enough to walk down the hallways of this very building. Naked feet padded along the freshly wiped floor, greeting were thrown from left to right by the two children running around. Numbers instead of a name tag were attached to the hospital robe the two wore.

Nurses, doctors and patients swore that this duo brought some vitality into this heavy place, added some sunshine to a dark job which fought for others‘ life and often lost the battle. These children were more than welcome.

“You’ve got to hurry up [Name] or the nurses won’t have any candy left,“ a girl with short, pitch black hair and grey – almost white – eyes pouted as you struggled to keep up with her pace. The number #2692 was attached to her gown, written in bold numbers. You coughed into your elbow and put your palms on your knees, body slightly bent over as you caught your breath. Two weeks ago, your mother had dragged you to the doctor due to fever, heavy coughing and finding it difficult to breathe; the diagnosis was pneumonia and so, your mother had insisted on transferring you to a hospital. “Sorry, Fuyuko,“ a grin was flashed said girl’s way, her own lips twitching upwards. “You know I’m just starting to recover.“ #7843 was attached to your hospital gown which you had grown to dislike. It was a sad, plain white just like everything else in this place.

Luckily, the nurses were kind and developed a soft spot for Fuyuko and you, always sneaking some candy or leftover dessert from the caféteria. Children weren’t allowed to eat sweets. Sugar would make the dosis of antibiotics useless, the doctors said, but it sounded very sketchy to you. After all, dad also ate gummy bears whenever he got sick, so how true was this statement? How much could you trust them? Maybe, you shouldn’t even think about it.

Dressed in a blue uniform, the nurse handed Fyuko a bag of chips and two small packs of gummy bears. “This will remain our secret, though, okay?,“ she spoke in a hushed voice, her eyes attentive to her surroundings in case a doctor was to come around the corner. The two of you nodded in unison, eyes sparkling with gratitude and the innocence only a child had. “Thank you so much!“

After the small excursion to the nurse, you found yourself sitting on the rooftop of the hospital. The smell of green grass and blooming flowers greeted you, birds tweeted among themselves, singing melodies only mother nature would understand like a language. Bees flew through the air, sun rays caressed your cold cheeks and warmed you up from within your core. Spring was a beautiful season and perhaps your favorite one.

After a long, dead winter, Flora and Fauna came back to life.

Ripping open the bag of chips, Fuyuko sat down on the ground with a dull thud reaching your ears and you followed her example. She gave you a handful of the salty treat, the sound of chips crunching filling your skull which made you wonder why the sound of chewing was so much louder than everything around you. You would have to ask dad about it once you were home again; you didn’t like asking mom for she had..what did people call it, again? A hot temper? Yeah, that was it.

“You know, you never told me what you want to be when you grow up,“ Fuyuko said after wiping some salt off her lips and putting her index finger to her chin in thought. Grey orbs observed your curious gaze, trying to figure out what your dream could be, what would suit you. “Hmm..maybe a vet? Or an actress? Wait no!“ The girl was only taking random guesses without putting any effort into it. “A singer!,“ she exclaimed excitedly and clapped her hands together before she invaded your personal bubble, the tip of her nose almost poking yours. You merely snorted at that and put your hands behind your back, leaning your weight back. “That’s ridiculous, Fuyuko. Besides, you never told me what you want to be, either.“

Suddenly, heat rose to the ravenette’s cheek and tinted her pale skin in a light hue of red like fine dust. Eyes fell to the ground in an almost shy manner, Fuyuko’s entire aura almost seemed scared of what you might say to her answer. After all, she was aiming for a big goal. “Well..I want to become the best surgeon in the world. Even better than my dad.“ A grin adorned Fuyuko’s small face as she shared her vision of a hopefully bright and rosy future before her finger poked you right below your collarbone and above your chest, eyes demanding an answer from you now.

Craning your head back, you gazed up at the snow white clouds passing by above you, hoping that they’d write the answer down for you or send you a sign, a clue, no matter how small it was. You couldn’t remember if you ever had a dream job for the future, nothing had ever piqued your interest nor had you ever been exposed to any job. Dad was always at the office from dusk to dawn, making sure that all the bills could get paid while your mother was at home, taking care of you. You had no idea what your mother worked as, you were scared of asking.

“I think it’s my wish to be happy and loved.“

As soon as your wish was spoken, the world got visibly and audibly distorted. Your surroundings were spinning, rain was poured from the clouds above you and somewhere close by, a thunderstorm was making its way towards your current location. Incoherent words bore into your ears and settled down in your brain, making you clutch your ears and curl in on yourself.

“You need to run.“ It was your father’s begging voice.

“Everything is your fault!“ Your mother’s voice, shouting at you as always.

“You were never loved.“ Was this Dr. Ito? Fuyuko’s dad? You couldn’t tell anymore.

“It would’ve been better if you didn’t exist.“ You didn’t recognize this voice.

You woke up in a cold sweat, hairline drenched and several strands of your locks clinging to your skin. Silent tears ran down your cheeks, your shirt stuck to you like a second skin and your heart felt like it was trying to flee from within your ribcage. Slowly but surely, you took in your surroundings one by one and found comfort in reality.

Sunlight began sliding its way into your room, the clock read six am and nothing was out of the ordinary. Pictures still decorated your walls, the desk remained being a mess from past assignments and the curtains were played with by the wind – you had probably forgotten to properly close the window before you had gone to sleep. Finding tranquility within your own four walls, your heart slowly calmed down and you finally took notice of Yukino’s hand on your shoulder, worry being laced into her delicate face.

“Are you okay? I heard you crying in your sleep,“ the familiarity of her voice made you realize that you had been stuck in a nightmare in the form of a ghost of the past. Never had you ever dreamed about your childhood, never had it ever been that haunting, never had any nightmare made you cry. Perhaps, this was a bad omen – the flowers, yesterday’s confrontation and today’s nightmare. All of these events were too odd, too out of place to be considered unfortunate inconveniences; they were the opposite of serendipity - a zemblanity. „Yeah, I’m good,“ you replied, gaze obviously still shaken and maybe even detached as you worked through the possible meaning of the disaster life presented you on a silver platter like a dessert. „It was just a nightmare.“

Flickering lights, faces of people and the rich green of the trees blurred into one unstable image as your body relaxed into the passenger seat of Yukino’s car. The radio song on the radio, Eight by IU, unfortunately became nothing but buzzing noise in your mind as you still dwelled on the nightmare. A shame really, considering you really liked the song and it was the perfect melody to describe the weather: pleasantly warm with a bit of wind.

Why were you so hung up over a mere nightmare? After all, people dreamed about weird things all the time, some dreams were ridiculous and seemingly held no meaning. Dreams were nothing but a brain’s way to process the events in one’s life - may it be their past or the present. There should be no deeper meaning, and yet, you involuntarily got stuck in a vicious cycle of thoughts upon thoughts which desired to twist your day into a negative one.

“Hey, [Name], we’re here,” Yukino snapped her fingers in front of your face and brought you back to reality within a few moments. A cute pout decorated her face, her dark eyes glowing in the light as she seemed to read your mind. You really couldn’t hide anything from her, could you? “Ah, right, the job interview,” checking your appearance in the rearview mirror, you fixed some wild strands of hair and made sure to look as professional as you could. It was an important job interview which would allow you to finally earn proper money and assist Yukino in paying the bills like you had promised just before you had studied abroad.

Yukino took your hands in hers and a smile graced her face as she looked you straight into the eyes. Maybe this was what sincerity looked like: when one’s eyes were clearer than the ocean with no hidden motives buried beneath pitch black pupils. “Look, I know that your nightmare shook you, but you can’t let it hinder you from bagging this job, got it?” It sounded like she was scolding you much like a mother would when her child had one too many cookies and refused dinner as a result. Cute but to be taken seriously. “You’re more than qualified for this job and deserve it more than anyone else. There’s no way you could possibly fail this,” Yukino’s words were soft and full of trust in your own abilities, a kind of trust you unfortunately didn’t have in yourself.

“You really always know what to say, don’t you?,” you chuckled to yourself, got out of Yukino’s car and dusted off your jeans, freeing the material of any pollen that might’ve gotten stuck. Receiving her grin as a reassuring reply, your feet confidently carried you to the marketing agency which wanted to desperately hire you.

The interior of the agency was oddly comfortable. Walls were painted in warm tones varying from beige to dark brown, plants decorated the space and gave the entire surroundings the feeling of a huge living room. White and wooden-colored furniture gifted the surroundings a finishing and modern touch.

“Ah, you must be [Name], right?” The lady was probably in her 30s, black hair tied into a neat ponytail and her face covered in light makeup. Her delicate hand reached out to shake yours in a happy greeting, her reddish lips pulled into a professional yet real smile. One could tell she was a genuine person. “Please, follow me.”

And so, you found herself in her bright office, seated in a comfortable, plush chair while the kind lady looked through your resumé another time, her head nodding one or two times. “Miss, your grades are quite impressive and you majored in business, too, I see. This is very good,” at her praise, a nearly sheepish smile graced your features. Truth be told, you hadn’t often received praise since your mother had disappeared when you were 8 and your father died a few years ago due to a car accident. Yukino was the only source of praise and validation. “Thank you so much, miss,” you bowed your head lightly, still smiling. Your life was finally going right.

“May I ask why you decided to study abroad instead of staying here in Yokohama? There are lots of good universities here,” her tone was in no way intrusive, but rather curious - maybe even on a personal level. “Ah, my dad believed the number 20 came along with a bad omen and advised me to discover something new,” there was no way you could tell her the entire truth about a mafia-ish deal, the flowers and the things you had seen the day before. You doubted she would believe you - such things only ever happened in movies, after all. She laughed at that, a pleasant sound, you noticed. “Elders do tend to hold on to such belfies, don’t they? I understand that very well.” The lady put your resumé aside, kind eyes looking at you with joy sparkling in them. You didn’t expect such a kind person to interview you.

“I’m looking forward to working with you, [Name].”

With one less worry weighing on your shoulders, you thanked the lady for her time, assured her you’d work hard and left her office with a proud grin stretching your lips and a confident, happy swing in your hips.

Funny, what such a little, positive event could trigger within a person. It could turn one’s entire day upside-down for the better or worse, but lady luck seemed to be with you today. What a good feeling it was to feel your heart beat as light as a feather.

Yukino was seated on the hood of her car, her sparkling gaze fixated on the entrance of the agency and anxiously waiting for you to come back. She was probably more excited and more optimistic than you could ever be, but that was why she meant so much to you - compared to you, she was like a mitochondria: an entire power house. “You made it, didn’t you?!” The fair-haired woman came running into your arms and greeted you in a tight hug as if you had been gone for years. Happiness radiated off of her like the sun emitted its rays. “Of course, I did!”

Ushering you into the comfy passenger seat of the car, Yukino suggested a small celebration for your successful interview and that you were finally back home where you belonged.

“After a year, one might think you would’ve overcome your love for chocolate ice-cream,” stuffing a spoonful of vanilla ice-cream into her mouth, Yukino glared at the icy treat in front of you which was decorated with some strawberries and cherries. Delicious for everyone else but the woman sitting opposite of you. “Hah?! And what about your obsession with vanilla ice-cream? You never change, do you?,” accusingly, you pointed your spoon at Yukino who rolled her eyes in surrender and let out a huff of air. Unfair how you knew your roommate better than the back of your own hand. “Tsk, you win this round. But only because I’m letting you,” Yukino teased with a smirk on her lips and giggling as you gave her a thorough are-you-serious-look. “Whatever makes you sleep at night.”

From that point on, the conversation varied widely but still found its focus on your year spent abroad. After all, you had gotten home late the night before and Yukino didn’t want to bombard you with questions when you’d been obviously tired. Questions about the language and food seemed to pique Yukino’s interest the most as well as the educational system which she didn’t really understand. Well, it didn’t matter anyway. Yukino had long since graduated and didn’t have to understand foreign school systems.

“Okay that sounds nice and all, but did you meet anyone special?”

Gulping down a fair amount of your ice-cream, you nonchalantly shook your head at your friend’s question. It was a waste of time, would hinder your career, you had always said, but maybe, the reason why you never brought anyone home went deeper than that, “you know I’m not interested.” A bowl of finished ice-cream stood in front of Yukino, strong arms crossed over her chest. Pleased looked different. “Jeez, you’re so boring. I bet there are lots of people willing to date you if you give them the chance.” Dating had never been a high priority in your life; with the entire anxiety about your dad’s deal going on, you didn’t want anyone to get dragged into the mess which was your family. It was too much for someone ordinary, you reasoned or maybe it was a lame excuse.

“Anyways,” you bit into a juicy strawberry and let the sweet taste flood your strawberries. Whoever invented fruits deserved to be kissed. “What did you do to the flowers last year?,” it was innocent curiosity since you had never received or saw a bouquet of orange lilies for your 20th birthday. By the time that day came around, you were already abroad, studying and looking for a job in Yokohama for the day you’d finally return. “I gave them back to a bandaged man. He was very kind,” Yukino recalled the memory of a male brunette, very handsome and charming. “I think he’d totally be your type!”

There was only one bandaged man walking the earth of Yokohama and his name was Dazai Osamu who possessed the annoying ability to nullify any other gift - no matter how powerful it was. Everyone would be rendered to a mere human being in front of him.

Your lips were pulled into a straight line. “No, thanks.”

“Ahh, you’re really no fun, [Name]!,” Yukino whined and craned her head back in defeat.

The rest of the day was spent strolling throughout Yokohama and catching up with one another, a bit of teasing and bickering as always. It felt so normal to be back that it was akin to never having left in the first place and maybe, in a way, you felt guilty for leaving Yukino on her own. Yes, she was a grown woman who could stand her ground, but you could still remember how happy she was when you moved in with her and how sad she was when you announced your department for the duration of an entire year.

Yukino completed you and you completed Yukino.

“You know, you kind of remind me of my grandma’s wrinkly face with that face mask on,” Yukino snickered with the toothbrush in her mouth and some saliva mixed with toothpaste dribbling down her chin. She swore her relative was like a replica of you; according to Yukino, the two of you shared the same height, same hair color and the habit of Being Done with her. Knocking your hip into Yukino’s to scold her, your eyes narrowed ever so slightly as you spoke the next words with a straight face, “I bet I could beat you with a slipper just as well as your granny can, too.”

She spat the remaining toothpaste into the sink, put the toothbrush aside and flicked your mask-covered forehead which earned Yukino a rare pout of yours. She thought it was cute, though. “Aaand that’s why you’re single.”

Internally, you wondered why Yukino was so adamant about you finding a partner. Her bugging was like a mosquito haunting you at night, pestering you whenever you laid back down and flew right by your ear. She had never been too interested in your love life, but maybe her sudden interest arose from the fact that you’d been away for quite some time. Whatever it was, you were sure it’d disappear like smoke in no time.

“You really need some sleep. Maybe then you’ll stop annoying me,” taking the face mask off and tossing the remains into the trash can next to the sink, you basked in the way your skin glowed underneath the pleasant lighting the lightbulb provided. Maybe you should date yourself, you silently thought to yourself. “Well, you definitely do need your beauty sleep or else your face will always remain that wrinkly.”

Why were you befriended with her? You forgot.

The full moon illuminated the dark hallway and offered Dazai enough light to see his surroundings clearly, although he probably knew his way around the mafia’s headquarters, knowing the layout like the back of his hand. Soles of leathered shoes remained silent with every step the brunette took, his black coat offering him some warmth which this entire place severely lacked.

He had just come back from analyzing anomalies happening throughout Yokohama; despite summer reaching slowly reaching its peak, snow had been spotted. Witnesses talked about the temperature suddenly dropping to the point they had to turn on their heater, but apparently the cold never stayed for long. After a maximum of half an hour, temperatures would rise again to their original 30 degree celsius. This certainly wasn’t a funny trick by the weather nor caused by global warming. Although Dazai didn’t know who it was, he was absolutely sure that this was the doing of an unknown ability user.

Was this the story Mori told him about when he was around eight years old?

Before Dazai could continue his train of thought, he pushed the doors to Mori’s office open and was greeted by the mafia’s boss. “I’m glad you could make it this fast, Dazai,” Mori’s lips were pulled into a smile which Dazai could find no trust in. This entire man should never be trusted for no one knew anything about his true intentions; it even took Dazai quite a time of thinking to figure out one of Mori’s schemes. “I was about to try out a new suicide method, too..,” the brunette trailed off like he was saddened by Mori hindering from dying during this sweet, humid night.

Mori got up from his chair, hands folded behind his back and lilac eyes gazing upon the city which the mafia looked over during nights such as this particular one. Neo signs flickered in the distance, traffic lights were still active while cars roamed the streets, making it seem like this town never slept. “I need you to pick someone up by the pier,” always so vague.

Brown eyes were empty as they took in Mori’s posture and form; it seemed like he was looking forward to something if the slight smile and the shimmer in Mori’s eyes were anything to go by. “And who exactly might that be?” Usually, simple tasks like these were done by lower-ranking people like Dazai’s friend Odasaku. Maybe said person was dangerous? Or posed a threat to the mafia? In the end, one couldn’t refuse the boss’s order. “I’m sure you remember our lovely encounter with [Name]. She’ll need the help.”

“Why though? Just yesterday, you basically let her off the hook. It’s unusual for you to be so interested in someone,” Dazai was still analyzing Mori’s motive, but maybe it was a better decision to wait for the tale to unfold and then piece it together bit by bit. The suicidal brunette was smart, but not all-knowing. “I’m just bringing some things into motion,” Mori smiled at the younger man before his gaze fell back upon the city, his fingertips slightly pressed up against the huge window as his mind was calculating possible outcomes for the scenario he had created. “Besides..only fire can break ice.”

Orders were orders and so, Dazai leaves the office of his superior without another word. One thing was clear: Mori needed you to get rid of the ice ability user who was responsible for the anomalies, but the unknown variable was how Mori would convince you to join sides with the mafia. Knowing the boss for the majority of his life, Dazai knew that it’d be something to break you with.

How cruel the man was. Towards such a charming lady, as well.

It didn’t take long for Dazai to find a spot along the pier, his eyes gazing at the moon which was reflected onto the surface of the water. His body leaned against the wall of an abandoned warehouse and he couldn’t help but wonder if it just got a bit colder.

Naked feet padded along the wooden floor, your throat was dry and eyes heavy with sleep as you dragged your body to the kitchen like a sack of rice. No, this time you didn’t wake up thanks to a nightmare, but because you felt like you were dying of thirst and the usually full bottle of water by your bed was empty. You had no choice but to leave the comfortable, warm sheets and go out into the dark unknown aka your kitchen.

“The hell..?,” you mumbled and rubbed some sleep from your eyes as you stepped into something wet and..sticky. Maybe it was water? Did Yukino spill it? No, water didn’t stick to your feet like glue and definitely didn’t smell so overwhelmingly disgusting. Letting your gaze drop, your eyes suddenly widened in horror and you clasped a hand over your mouth in shock.

You stood in a puddle of blood and it came from Yukino’s room.

Suddenly, you were wide awake. “Yukino?!,” you yelled and burst through her door. What greeted you looked like a bloodbath in the form of your best friend who was gasping for air, her dark eyes shimmering with fear and pleading you for something that you couldn’t read. Your mind was too clouded with panic to figure out anything.

You dropped to your knees and ignored the painful crack that followed the hard impact, gathering Yukino up into your arms. Her throat had been sliced, the cut was too deep to cauterize it with your ability and then call an ambulance. Besides, the loss of blood was already immense, the red fluid being easily soaked up by your clothes and staining your skin. Yukino’s body was freezing cold, your body almost instinctively dropped her but your heart refused to obey.

“[Name], please, run,” her breathing was heavy and her chest rose and fell irregularly as her lungs craved the air. She coughed up blood, vision getting slowly blurry as her eyes found crying ones. “Shut up, it’s not your time to die!,” you raised your voice through the tears, put your hand on Yukino’s sliced throat and attempted to cauterize the wound, but the bleeding was too strong and destroyed the small crust that was created. Gently, Yukino placed her cold hand on your heated one and removed the bloody limp from the wound, her dark eyes holding contact with you. “Listen, this person will get you, too,” it got hard to speak. “So please, run and live, [Name].”

Hot tears dropped on Yukino’s face as you took her words in and held her close to your body as if it could somehow save her. “Don’t leave me, Yukino,” your voice was smaller than a mouse, barely above your whisper and more fragile than the thinnest glass. The only good thing you ever had in your life was being taken away from you, slipped through your fingers like water. “I’m sorry I have to leave so early,” Yukino spoke softly and although it was an obvious struggle for her, she smiled up at you and brought a bloody hand to your face.

“I promised to always be by your side. Now I’ll have to watch you from afar,” this wasn’t a mere promise but an honest vow you knew she would never break. Not even at the brink of death did Yukino think of herself or showed fear. Instead, she seemed to come to terms with her fate.

“Please, smile for me, [Name]. It’d be nice if your smile was the last thing I’d get to see.”

Hastily, you wiped the tears away and smiled as your heart shattered in your chest. Tears kept coming and moistened the collar of your shirt, stuck to your cheeks and some even dried on Yukino’s bloodied cheeks. You could feel your best friend’s heartbeat gradually slow down, her eyes fluttered shut as soon as you granted her the last wish.

Heavy sobs tore through your throat, shaky hands hugged Yukino’s head to your chest, your mind refused the harsh reality. “I’m sorry,” you said, gently rocking your body back and forth and repeating the phrase like a broken record which didn’t know any other words.

You’d been sitting in your friend’s blood for minutes and apologizing over and over again until something icy whizzed past you, cutting through the skin of your cheek and drawing blood. A gasp slipped your mouth and you turned around and spotted a masked, hooded person standing outside, a dagger made of ice and drenched in Yukino’s blood in their hand.

Everything happened way too fast. The unknown person came dashing through the opened window, grabbed you by the throat and tossed your body into a tree, effectively knocking the air out of your lungs and making splinters dig into your back. “Why did you do this?!,” you screamed at the stranger in front of you but it was the same as talking to a wall: you got no reply. The person opened their palm, ice bullets appearing out of nowhere and it dawned on you that Yukino’s words were true. You were this monster’s next target and probably their main objective for a reason you could only hope to figure out. Several of these bullets sped towards you, but you managed to melt them with a controlled wall of fire building up in front of you.

There was no way you could fight this person in this area. Houses filled with families surrounded you and at this rate, the neighborhood would either be frozen or burned down along with the people. In a panic, your mind decided to let you run towards the pier which wasn’t too far away but would certainly let you fight against whoever was behind that mask.

Sticks and stones hurt the soles of your feet or banged against your ankles painfully, the lack of air you could inhale hurt your lungs and not to mention the emotional pain of Yukino’s death. Everything hurt you and all you wanted was to break down and cry, but this wasn’t an option when your own life was on the line.

Somehow, you managed to dodge several attacks and you silently thanked whatever deity was watching over you for letting you reach the pier.

Abruptly you came to a stop, sand squeezing itself between your toes and your skin dyeing the sand in a hue of red. Your eyes scanned the area for a hooded figure lurking within the shadow, but found nothing but ordinary trees, bushes and an owl catching a mouse. Just before you could lull yourself into a false sense of safety, a sharp pain penetrated your abdominal area and cold flooded your veins instantly. “You little..,” the person was faster than you anticipated; the stranger had shown up out of nowhere and only waited for you to make a mistake so they could stab you with a knife made of ice which disappeared into tiny snowflakes.

Silent as always, the unknown person pushed you into the river and left you to drown.

The pain coursing through every fiber of your being was overwhelming, but the wound wasn’t as deep as it might seem, despite the blood loss you experienced. You pressed your hand into the stab wound and let the limb heat up until the heat stopped the bleeding; this was only a temporary solution and would not last very long, however.

The current of the river was strong and pulled you along or even pushed you down several times, making your attempt at getting air seem futile which it was. You were so close to reaching the surface, so close to finally breathe again until your palm hit a thick layer of ice which you couldn’t punch or cut through. It was a truly futile attempt.

Crap, you mentally cursed your luck and the stranger for having thought so far ahead, though it shouldn’t come as a surprise. The predator should always be one step ahead of their prey, after all. Your fist collided with the ice a few times, the lack of air slowly got to you and forcing you inhale nothing but the salty water surrounding you - you had no chance but to hurry up.

It took you several moments to heat up a majority of your body thanks to the much colder water, but soon, the liqiuid began bubbling around you and the layer of ice began cracking. Just a bit more. You pushed your palms flat against the ice and let the limbs catch fire to finally push through the ice which had nearly buried you.

At once, the ice shattered and found its way back into the warm water as snowflakes.

Exhausted and injured, you dragged your body to the nearest shore where you coughed up a curious mix of water and blood, your wound reopened at the force. You pressed both of your hands to your injury, dried lips parting ever so slightly as you began panting out of pain. The sound of rustling clothes drew your attention and you expected that stranger to show up once again, but instead, you caught sight of a black coat being thrown your way and a pair of shoes.

“Looks like someone did quite the number on you,” Dazai had his arms crossed over his chest as he took in your ruined form. Blood drenched you from head to toe, some water was probably still stuck in your lungs and not to mention that you almost drowned underneath that blanket of ice. “Shut up,” you snap at the brunette and immediately paid the price. Blood pooled in the back of your throat and snuck its way out with the help of an ugly cough. The taste made you cringe, pain made you curl in on yourself.

“You know you could get this treated if you joined the mafia,” Dazai spoke matter of factly and caught the menacing glare of yours before your eyes could fully develop it. You didn’t even have the time to protest. “It seems like we’re both looking for the same person now. Unless you really don’t want to and would rather die,” you honestly weighed your options, mind swaying between a tempting offer and the want to escape this very real nightmare. Helplessness and despair quickly grew where your heart shattered, making a perfect ground for anger to grow in - not towards the brunette in front of you, but towards yourself for being so weak.

You reach for the coat in front of you and tightly tie the article of clothing around your waist to slow down the bleeding, letting Dazai help you up to your feet. One bandaged arm was wrapped around your waist to keep you steady, his free hand pulled your arm across his shoulder. Dazai was warm, you noticed and unconsciously leaned into the man.

“I can’t understand how your beauty almost managed to die unlike me!,” the man whined and a pout found home on his lips. Dazai couldn’t understand how he always managed to fail, yet someone who did not wish for death, and was very beautiful, almost gained that sweet kiss of death he’d been chasing for so long. “What are you? A suicidal dumbass?,” you smirked as Dazai feigned overdramatic hurt over your comment. He was almost..comedic. “I can’t believe a lovely lady came for my neck like that! Unbelievable how such tender lips can spit such venom right into my poor heart!”

As the apparently suicidal man continued his rambling, you couldn’t help but notice how incredibly convenient his appearance was. Your mind quickly came to the conclusion that it was his doing. “Why the hell are you exactly here?,” you questioned sharply, your voice left no room for any playfulness or jokes. It didn’t surprise you when Dazai dropped the theatrical facade of his and switched to a more serious persona within the blink of an eye. He was serious, yet his face looked genuine.

“I know you must think that I planned the death of your friend, but I assure you I was only told to show up at a certain place to save a certain, stunning lady.”

Nevermind, he wasn’t serious.

“How the hell am I supposed to trust the words of a mafioso?”

At that, Dazai chuckled.

“I don’t lie about these things.”

You wonder how much you could trust him and decided to be wary, instead.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd x reader #dazai osamu #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #fic: gasoline

78 notes · View notes

makeste · 5 years

Text

BnHA Vigilantes Chapters 59 - 65: Emergency Catch-Up Blog

before I start, please be advised that the following post will contain a potential MAJOR SPOILER FOR CHAPTER 253, which has not yet been released! please don’t be an idiot like me and spoil yourselves, guys. stay safe.

but anyways yes, this is my recap post for Those Chapters of Vigilantes. at long last. hooray! by the way this is barely edited at all, on account of it being a rush job (see re: the “Emergency” bit in the header). just some raw, unfiltered, [CENSORED SPOILER THING] thoughts and feelings! hopefully it’s readable; when I have more time I’ll try and clean it up a bit more.

so now, first off, credit where credit is due because omg

bless you anon, you saved my life

but let me backtrack! looool so guys, I did a dumb thing and peeked at a spoiler, and read the name “Shirakumo”, and was like FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK and noped out, but it was too late lol. so then I was like “HOW DO I CATCH UP ON THE ENTIRETY OF VIGILANTES IN LESS THAN TWENTY-FOUR HOURS”, fully aware that I probably wasn’t going to do shit and would most likely just spend tomorrow apologizing and shrugging my way through the new chapter. and by the way guys, I’ll go ahead and throw in one of those apologies now, because I’ve had at least a dozen anons implore me to pick up Vigilantes, and I’m fully aware that Aizawa’s past has been covered (including one (1) cloudy boi), and that it’s really good. I just haven’t had the energy to do it! because reading and liveblogging are two very different things, and the latter just takes so much more time and energy honestly. so I kept putting it off and off and off, and now here I am

but then this ask came along telling me exactly which chapters to read in order to get the context I need! so seriously anon, you are the MVP of my week, and I appreciate this so, so much. I am now off to read those chapters, and I apologize to everyone again, but while I will liveblog them, it’ll probably be kind of a rush job due to the circumstances. like I won’t get into every single detail here, because it’s six whole chapters. but I’ll do my best

hmm I don’t know what constitutes the second half of chapter 59 lol so here I am reading the whole damn thing

AIZAWA BEING FRIENDS WITH MIDNIGHT, AND MIDNIGHT HAS A CAT OH GOSH

looool

personally, Aizawa hated school. he would never ever dream of becoming a teacher. how ridiculous. irrational af

“we’ll have you teaching at U.A. soon enough” psssh. not this man, sister

he’s hanging up on her now. honestly I am glad I did not skip the first part of this chapter lol

some wolfman is chasing the protag of this series whose name I forgot, as well as a little girl and ANOTHER CAT. this series has so many cats?! apparently!?

Aizawa is saving the cat. the hero we deserve

the protag whose name I am about to look up wants to adopt the cat, which prompts Aizawa to launch into a 2500-word essay on why he should not adopt the cat

okay the kid’s name is Koichi. he’s apparently 19 in the series, but I don’t know how old he is in this particular scene though because I have the vague impression that the series at large takes place in present-day BnHA time, which would mean this is definitely a flashback. so. ??

OHO, NOW IT’S A FLASHBACK WITHIN A FLASHBACK!!? so this is the Aizawa past thing everyone’s been all “!!!!” about. well here you go guys

young Shouta is staring at an abandoned kitty in a box in the rain

he left the cat, but also left his umbrella over it, awww

and he arrived at class all wet. and his teacher says he can go change his clothes, but he’s all “NAH I’M EMO SO I’LL JUST STAY LIKE THIS”, wow

“I’m powerless” jesus christ Shou get a grip

here comes Present Mic to forcibly lift his best bud’s spirits. they’re in second year apparently

Present Mic, and I mean this in the most loving and affectionate way possible, is the most annoying man on the planet

how was he not just constantly punched in the face at all times. like constantly walking around being punched by people

well well well

something horrible is sure going to happen to you, isn’t it? here I thought you were probably dead, but I’m kinda getting the inkling [SPOILERS, FOLKS, I’M SERIOUS] you’re gonna maybe show up in the latest chapter of the main series, so I guess not! congratulations I guess?? OR MAYBE NOT

“dammit Shirakumo” oh so it’s like that

their teacher deserves a raise. never thought we’d see another U.A. faculty member more done with life than Aizawa himself

hey Shirakumo is giving Shouta his umbrella back, but what about the cat?! SHIRAKUMO ARE YOU REALLY A NICE GUY, I’M NOT SURE YET

meanwhile he’s stripping naked in the middle of class. oh yes. I forgot Vigilantes was like this

he’s using his cloud quirk to censor himself where it counts

“and inside this cloud... is this charming little creature” lol we think he’s talking about his penis but then he pulls out the cat! WELL NEVER MIND THEN SHIRAKUMO

so Shouta is sitting around thinking emo thoughts that are gradually giving way to some decidedly un-hetero thoughts about Shirakumo, who’s doing that shounen thing where he smiles with his eyes closed while being silhouetted against the bright sun. maaaaan. Aizawa you are hella gay my dude

okay next chapter and they’re being assigned internships

Shirakumo’s hero costume is... well let’s just say it’s a good thing he’s got such a badass quirk

he’s riding around on that cloud like Goku. like a fucking Lakitu from Super Mario

now the teachers are talking about the three boys and whether they’ll be able to land internships

“Yamada shouldn’t have a problem. his voice quirk has applications in battle, rescue, and entertainment. but the boy’s a bit distractible.” okay first of all how the hell would Mic ever rescue a person with his quirk. fucking scream them to safety or what. and second, by distractible you mean punchable right. again, all the love

oh my god he’s so cute

lmao this is seriously my favorite picture of Aizawa ever. GO GETTEM SLUGGER

so Shouta is getting bullied by some guy with a decidedly Katsuki-ish quirk, except he shoots jets of fire out of his hands. but anyway he says that fighting Shouta is boring. SHUT UP, YOU. YOU’RE BORING

Shouta is so emo. but he really does want to be a good hero, he just doesn’t know how. he seems very frustrated

he’s lecturing Kumo on not giving people-food to the cat. and now he has picked up the cat and is cradling and bottle-feeding it like an infant. bless

this manga really has a gag panel of the cat pissing on Shirakumo afterwards, like. see this is another reason why I haven’t exactly been in a rush to read it sob. my sense of humor doesn’t really seem to align with Furuhashi’s

oH MY GOD

high school Midnight is the coolest person I have ever seen and I want to be just like her when I grow up

aaaaand she is literally not wearing any clothes except that belt and those boob-holsters. which, I mean, it’s not like she really dresses any differently in the main series, but this being Vigilantes, I’m sure we’ll get another half a dozen pages showing extreme close-ups of her costume from various angles. again, another area where this series and I don’t quite see eye to eye, but it’s all right since we’re just passing through here

and one year later they wrote a literal law limiting how much exposed skin a hero costume can show. oh Midnight. meanwhile I forgot how much this series makes me appreciate Horikoshi, flaws and all. I’ll take a thousand Minetas over this shit honestly. at least Mineta always gets his comeuppance. but anyway

they have named the cat “Sushi”

Midnight is straight up taking the cat lmao

Yamada got an internship. one down, two to go

Midnight’s back and showing them a video of the cat pooping. one joke about the cat’s bathroom habits in a single chapter was not enough, we’re going for two. not like we have anything more important to cover, like Aizawa getting an internship and something terrible and tragic happening to his boyfriend. let’s just keep talking about cat poop

okay here we go, Midnight says her boss will take them as interns

“Loud Cloud” lmao. home run hero name. GOAT

so Shouta’s chasing a villain and nearly got crushed by a safe that he threw at him, but he’s being saved by some guy who I’m guessing is his boss

oh my

this is the kind of weirdness that only a manga can get away with. I wonder how this idea came into being and whose idea it was, Horikoshi’s or Furuhashi’s. maybe the two of them hitting each other up back and forth in a text chain. “so I’m doing Aizawa’s flashback now, who do you want to have him to intern under?” “hmm I don’t know but I was thinking literally Prince”

Prince is chewing Shouta out something fierce

I thought I was prepared for these Aizawa flashbacks, but some things you can never be prepared for

lol he asked Shouta how he fucked up, and Shouta started listing all of his tactical errors, and Prince interrupted him and is all “I’M TALKIN’ ‘BOUT THAT GLOOMY FACE” listen son just who do you think your intern is. THAT’S JUST HIS FACE LEAVE HIM ALONE

he says Aizawa wears his stress all over his sleeve and bums people out

he’s telling him to smile! now where have we heard that philosophy before

hello

I’m just reblogging this panel because of reasons

so Shouta is sulking in the locker room, and Shirakumo is showering off and says his MO is to keep smiling even when he screws up

now Midnight is texting Shouta 500 cat pictures

lmao we can’t see Shouta’s face, but Kumo is streaking in and is all “THERE’S THAT SMILE, SUNSHINE!!!!”

OH SHIT NOW IT’S A FEW DAYS LATER AND THE VILLAIN IS BACK BUT THIS TIME SHOUTA DONE GOT HIM SOME GOGGLES!! the path from adorable to sexy begins. the Longbottoming

oh shit the goggles belong to Shirakumo. the gayening. and they were roommates

Shouta’s using his quirk!

and the bad guy is all “I don’t need my quirk to crush you” and straight up demolishing the fucking pavement yikes

and Kumo is leaping at him from above and whomping him on the head

yay they caught him. and Shouta is...

he’s trying. they’ll coax a real smile out of him yet! just show him a Youtube compilation of Logical Ruses

now he and Shirakumo have matching pairs of goggles. I’m just gonna assume this means they are married

the fire hands bully guy from earlier is coming over to start some shit again

he says he also realized the importance of eye protection through his internship. and Mic says he stole the idea from him

now the class is partnering off for two-on-two battle training, and Kumo is partnering with Shouta

they’re going up against Mic and Fire Hands, and for some reason they’re making a wager of it. whoever loses has to stop wearing glasses. this is easily the stupidest thing I have seen in this series yet, not to mention the most accurate

Kumo’s grinning at Shouta and saying the goggles symbolize their friendship and they have to defend them. you know, lovable scamp stuff

now Shirakumo and Shouta are double teaming the Fire Hands guy and taking him out in seconds because OF COURSE THEY DID. lol he never fucking stood a chance

but Shouta’s handing the glasses back and says that two-on-one isn’t fair so he’s calling the wager off

aaaand Fire Hands is snatching them back and stomping on them. and says he doesn’t need them

listen you dingus, yes you do fucking need them. and also he says he didn’t lose! wow this guy really has his head up his ass. I’d say he reminds me of a CERTAIN SOMEONE, but you know what, I’ll give Mr. Certain Someone his fair credit though, because he managed to get his shit together long before his second year. Fire Hands still needs to grow up

the teacher is telling him he missed the point of the exercise, and FH is literally ignoring him and running off wow

apparently Mic also gave up his sunglasses and got himself a pair of goggles. well we know that’s not gonna last. and for that matter, Shouta’s gonna change out his goggles for a different model as well. ohhhhh some tragedy is on the horizon I just know it, this is gonna hurt

Shirakumo says the three of them should start their own agency. ahhh. buddy I’m here reading this from the future, and I gotta tell you, son... shit’s awkward as fuck

and he’s pointing out all the different ways they complement each other’s strengths and weaknesses

Shouta says he can’t do anything on his own, but Kumo says that just means he’s suited to teamwork

Kumo’s inviting Midnight to join them, but she’s declining lol

Shouta’s looking at the sky all dramatically. oh baby this is it isn’t it. things are about to get rough

“one week later”

NOO THEY HURT MY PRECIOUS PRINCE

SOMEONE IS CALLING FOR BACKUP AND THE CAMERA IS ZOOMING IN ON A BUSTED UP PAIR OF GOGGLES, FUCK EVERYTHING

now we’re cutting to Mic and Fire Hands and FH replaced his sunglasses with a pair of goggles. goggles are just the in thing now

Fire Hands talks about Aizawa so much I’m starting to ship the two of them now as well. damn Shouta how many high school boyfriends did you have??

so they’re fighting off some toad monster and it’s absorbing all their attacks

meanwhile Shouta and Kumo are literally helping kindergartners to cross the street

look at this

it’s beyond my comprehension how anyone could possibly mistake this man for anything but a future teacher

even Kumo is commenting on how natural he is at working with kids

oH MY GOD the kids waved goodbye and said “bye Eraserhead” and it prompted a little smile

Kumo says Shouta psychs himself out and convinces himself he can’t do stuff, but really he can do just about anything if he puts his mind to it. aww. and he’s right!!

oh shit here comes the toad

so this toad’s name is Garvey, and he’s literally wanted for murder oh shit. and he has a Fatgum-like quirk that can absorb attacks and store them up to release them

and some idiots hit him with a combined attack that ended up powering him the fuck up. well shit

so Prince is placing a rose in between his teeth and getting ready to fight this toad off. do it I believe in you

now a lot is happening all at once, jesus. Shouta and Kumo were trying to evacuate the kids but then the toad just appeared right there like wtf, and then Prince also showed up out of nowhere and went to hit the thing with a flying jump kick

aaaand he’s getting blasted into a building

oof. and getting even further blasted now. welp

Kumo’s protecting the kiddos with his Nimbus quirk!

OH FUCKING SHIT AND THEN HE GOT CRACKED IN THE HEAD BY A GIANT FALLING ROCK

is this bitch fucking dead now. I can’t believe they fucking Obitoed my bro Shirakumo

so now the toad is looming over them, and Shouta realizes he’s the only one left standing, and all his doubts are filtering into his mind as he desperately tries to think of how to stop him

and Shirakumo’s... gourd... thing... is klunking in out of nowhere, and it has a little speaker on it, and it’s all “YOU GOT THIS AIZAWA” and wtf. this is like something out of a weird fever dream

OH SHIT BOYS AIZAWA SHOUTA DONE GOT HIS GAME FACE ON NOW

THE LONGBOTTOMING CONTINUES

so now he’s leaping fifty feet into the air, somehow, and thinking that his Erasure quirk will at least level the playing field. well all right then! you go boy

now it’s raining and of course bolts of lightning are dramatically hitting the ground all around them

Shouta’s kicking off the lil power toad lumps one by one lol

literally just jumping all around and kickin’ stuff

oof he took a bad hit. but he’s sitting back up!

Kumo’s disembodied gourd voice keeps shouting encouragement at him though, idk. so there’s that

he says Shouta’s strong and he won’t lose, and Shouta is all “RAHHHHHHH.” you guys, if 1-A ever found out about this flashback they would never let the man live it down. hell I’m not gonna let him live it down. okay then. Mr. RAHHHHHH

he’s doing some weird stuff with his capture weapon now. I think maybe he grabbed a rock with it and chucked it at the guy

and now the guy is shooting all his toad lumps at Shouta all at once! WELL ALL RIGHT THEN

yooooo Shouta literally grabbed them all with the capture weapon and he’s CHUCKIN’ EM ALL INTO THE DUDE’S MOUTH Y’ALL THIS IS SOME REAL FUCKING SHIT LMAO GET WRECKED

so the guy is blowing up from the inside out. yeah that’s what you get for murdering Shouta’s childhood friend you piece of shit

and Shouta’s collapsing in exhaustion but happily shouting “SHIRAKUMO I DID IT” before he passes out. oh my god don’t tell me Kumo is already dead and Shouta just hallucinated his voice or some shit. THEN WHO WAS GOURD omg

oooooof here we go

[places both hands on Shouta’s shoulders and looks him dead in the eye] son I don’t know how to tell you this, but Shirakumo has been dead for twenty years

wow can someone just fucking tell Shouta already so he stops depressing everyone and making an idiot out of himself. geez how long are you all gonna stand around despondently shooting knowing looks at each other in the rain

so they’re picking up the gourd speaker thing and OF COURSE it’s visibly broken and there’s no possible way Kumo’s voice could have been coming out of it. especially since he has been dead for twenty years. here’s a picture of his grave. oh shit what’s that little grave right next to his?? OH MY GOD IT’S THE CAT. OH MY GOD

oh fuck me

Y’ALL REALLY DID THESE BABIES LIKE THAT. HORIKOSHI!! FURUHASHI!! GET OVER HERE RIGHT NOW I WANT A WORD!!

so now Fire Hands, who is trying his best to be comforting but is just SO BAD AT IT, is all “Aizawa you went toe to toe with this thing and beat it YOURSELF!! ALL ALONE!!!” jesus christ I need a minute

OH DAMN A CALLBACK TO THE RAIN “THIS KINDA FITS OUR VIBE RIGHT NOW” LINE but now it’s saaaaaaaad oh no

I mean. I knew going in that this was going to be Aizawa’s sad childhood flashback about his friend Shirakumo whom something very terrible happened to. it’s not like I’m even surprised. I knew what I was getting myself into here. but damn that still hurts

do you guys think that having a permanent image of his best friend forever immortalized as a cheerful seventeen-year-old, and being forever haunted by the memory of that seventeen-year-old being cut down in the prime of his life, might have given Aizawa Shouta lasting trauma which carried over into his adulthood and makes him do desperately reckless things when children are at risk, such as leaping into battle against an army of villains all alone. dammit now I want to grab every single problem child of 1-A and shake them roughly and scream at them for all the sleepless nights they have doubtless caused this man

so now here he and Mic are both being sad

aww Mic. I’m sorry I keep wanting to punch you in the face. it’s just reflex

and now it’s one year later and the class is gearing up for the sports festival

well look who is almost fully done with his metamorphosis

you will soon be a beautiful butterfly

he is literally going to sleep in the middle of class. well depression makes people tired. sigh

he’s got his familiar goggles now! and he’s kicking FH’s ass and lecturing him on how to fight better. damn his character development is complete

and he’s helping FH to his feet aww. definitely boyfriends. this man gets around

his teachers now say that Shouta has gotten too complacent, if anything, and phones everything in once he knows he’s got a passing grade, and only gets passionate when it comes to practical exercises

and now we’re cutting to the gym and Shouta is indeed training passionately while Mic sits in the corner looking bummed. all these kids have been through far too much in their young lives

Shouta’s handing in his career aspiration form, and he wrote that he wants to start his own agency and focus on “fighting, and nothing else”

his scruffy facial hair is already starting to come in now. it’s true what they say, having a tragic past does indeed make you hotter

anyways but can we get this boy a hug!? anybody?? hello??!?

now they’re graduating and Shouta is disappearing in a poof of smoke and now there’s this big panel with flashbacks to his career up to the current point in Vigilantes!

and we’re back in the ~present~ and he’s telling Koichi to take good care of that cat. aaaand, I guess that’s that. geez. that was a lot

so there you go! the Aizawa flashbacks! they were very sad! all in all I really enjoyed them! so now, if Shirakumo isn’t actually dead (seeing as it’s a shounen manga that pays homage to comic books, so safe to say that People Not Actually Being Dead is a Certified Phenomenon, like it’s definitely a THING THAT CAN SOMETIMES HAPPEN), well then. tomorrow’s chapter is sure going to be interesting to say the least. lulz but maybe I’ve got it all wrong though. guess I’ll find out!

#bnha 253 #bnha vigilantes #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #shirakumo oboro #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha vigilantes spoilers #makeste reads bnha #makeste reads vigilantes #the real question is what the hell ever happened to this prince guy #I refuse to believe he just disappeared off the face of the earth #how is he not a top ten hero #probably because he got knocked out by the toad villain in like two seconds #and his sixteen-year-old intern had to save his fabulous behind #well hats off to a legend #wherever he is now

196 notes · View notes

gvf-imagine · 4 years

Photo

Part 2

warnings: none

word count: 4705

summary: you get a text from dreamy rock singer Josh Kiszka whom youve just met at a live show and he wants to see you tonight!

tag list: @satingrass-maidensfair @karrotkate @kakarla @love-philautia @elliestrawberries @shesdigging @callmekane @supersonic-darling @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair @justacollegestudentyay

A\N: Loved writing this chapter! I hope you all enjoy it and like always any feedback is welcome and appriciated

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

Your friend hurried back to the table.

“What happened?!” she asked, her expression hungry for details. You simply shrug.

“He invited me to their next show at some college party…..he invited you too , oh and I gave him my number” you say with a melancholy tone. Your friends' eyes were wide.

“Why do you sound depressed??” she questions

“Why are you not freaking out like me?” she adds.

“He has a girlfriend” you say, taking another drink of your lemonade.

“God I wish there was alcohol in this” you chime again, mostly to yourself.

“Ok he has a girlfriend BFD he can't like her that much if he asked you for your number” she said with a satisfied shrug.

“Yeah that's just it, I don't wanna be the reason he leaves her. I mean we literally just met like what? Twenty minutes ago? And who knows how long he's been with her” you ramble. Your friend shakes her head

“Listen, whatever happens between them is NOT your problem. If he'd leave her for a girl he just met twenty minutes ago then clearly their relationship is already trash” she states. You look at her blankly for a moment before rolling your eyes.

“You just like the drama” you retort with an eventual smile. She nods proudly as she takes another sip of her drink

“I do! AND I like the guitarist so we're going to that show at that party” she decides. You chuckle and shake your head. Honestly you were excited to hear and see him again, you really really were and it's not like you guys were gonna make out or anything. You had no plans on doing anything that would jeopardize his current relationship, the two of you were just friends so far, not even friends, just acquaintances. Being an acquaintance sounded far better than being a home-wrecking hussy.

“That reminds me” you say, settling the storm of thoughts in your mind. Your friend looked up at you.

“Josh said that Jake, that guitarist you're in love with, was staring at you the whole show” you proclaim readying yourself for the deafening overzealous girl-ish shriek that was sure to be escaping her perfectly glossed lips at any moment.

“WHAT??!” she yelled, her aura flashed at you like the aftershock of an atom bomb.l her face lit up with excitement and yours winced with the pain of her shriek ringing in your ears.

“Sorry I said anything” you reply but it falls on deaf ears.

“Oh my god what will I wear??” she asks her eyes darting off in thought.

“Wear two stamps and Saltine cracker for all I care , just don't get your hopes up about mr. wonderful there, boys in bands aren't really known for their long healthy relationships, more like short, shameful one night stands” you say.

“Yeah I don't care” she replies quickly. You smile, of course she doesn't. You can't help but feel differently about Josh, somehow you knew he wasn't like that. Maybe that was just you getting your own hopes up. He seemed genuine but you had only just met him so you couldn't really make a fair call yet. The rest of that day was full of water, sunshine, and lingering thoughts of two boys you hardly knew.

The next day was completely different, weather-wise at least. Dark, heavy clouds hung over your town like a horrendous guilt. A, what seemed to be never ending, shower of rain fell to the ground turning every home and business in Silver City, Michigan into a lakefront property.

“Its about time you woke up” your friend smiles as you join her in the living room. She hands you a hot cup of tea, both of you still wore your pajamas which consisted of cotton shorts and old oversized t-shirts. The sound of rain dancing on the large window made you sleepy again, noting a huge crack of thunder and lightning couldn't solve though. Your body jolted in response to the loud boom. Your friend simply laughed and took another sip of her steaming beverage, smelled like vanilla chamomile.

“Shut up” you report playfully elbowing her in the ribs. You looked at your phone, you forgot you had turned it on silent last night. There was one unread message from a random number. Butterflies took flight against the walls of your stomach.

Josh.

You hated the fact that you couldn't help but blush and grin at the thought of him.

He has a girlfriend

You chanted to yourself in incantation before refocusing and reading his message.

J: Hey, it's me! I hope you had a good rest of your day yesterday, sorry for the late text, I had to wait till my girl fell asleep to talk to you…

Your heart sinks. You felt so bad for his girlfriend, it's not nice of Josh to go behind her back BUT there are always two sides to every story and who knows maybe she's talking to another guy behind his back. Your thoughts flew around your mind like fireflies. You shook your head and watched them scatter out of your ears and disappear into nothing.

Y: hey Josh! I'm glad to hear from you, so when's that party?

You decide to completely ignore the fact of his girlfriend and ask about the show instead, you'd like to talk to him more about his relationship because clearly he wasn't very happy in it, but it wasn't your place to ask.

J: 343 university Dr. we play at seven but well be there around five, so does this mean you're coming?

Y: yeah well be there, my friend would drag me by my hair if I didn't want to go lol but she won't have to

J: well that's good news for your hair, its too pretty to be pulled around…..like that anyway

The butterflies made their way all throughout your body. Did he just compliment you? It felt so good to hear him say that, it made you feel like a little giggly school girl with a crush. On the other hand you couldn't stop wondering if he'd said the same to his girlfriend today or who knows maybe there's other girls. You signed and slump down in your seat. Why was this eating you alive? You really honestly didn't even know him that well. You didn't know his last name, his favorite color, if he'd ever broken a bone. All you knew was he was a boy in a band, with a beautiful voice and a face to match. You felt the butterflies melt into a warmth as thoughts of him filled your head.

Y: josh…

J: I know i'm sorry, I just… I can't help it. I'm usually not like this but I just feel pulled towards you..

Somehow you knew exactly what he was trying to say, you felt the same way. The two of you were magnetized towards each other. You needed to be in his life one way or another and you just might have to put your better judgement aside and let temptation take the wheel.

Y: I know, it's okay. You're really sweet and I appreciate that. I'm really glad we met Josh

J:Im glad we did too and I feel like we met for a reason, I have to go rehearse with the guys now, but i'll talk to you as soon as I can… maybe I can come see you tonight?

Come see you tonight? What does that mean? What would we do? What would he tell his girlfriend? You didn't know what to say, hopefully he would be too busy at rehearsal to have any free time tonight.

Y: sure, if you're not busy you can stop by, just call me or something, hopefully ill still be awake ha ha. If no then i'll see you at the show…. Bye Josh :)

J: haha ok bye y/n

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

*later that evening*

“So you're going to let him come over tonight right??” your friend prys as the two of you walked through the mall. You rolled your eyes, as you often did around her.

“How did you even know about that?” you asked, swinging your bags as you walked. She looked down

“I may have just quickly skimmed through your texts while you were in the shower” she chimed with an innocent smile. You glared at her but couldn't hold back your laugh.

“Youre so fucking nosy” you reply shoving her gently. She smirks with a slight cock of her head.

“I dont go through your phone” you add. Her face goes blank

“Yeah well my love life isn't as exciting as yours right now, my phone’s dryer that the sahara” she responds with her usual quick wit.

“Well what about Jake, he might like you” you suggest.

“Yeah he MIGHT and I dont have his phone number so I cant talk to him” she argues.

“We’ll get it at the party don't worry” you reassure. She sighs and drops her shoulders.

“Yeah and so will every other girl within a mile radius” she retorts.

“Hey there were plenty of girls at the water park yelling his name but he only had eyes for you” you respond, you can tell what you said made her feel slightly better.

“Yeah well I guess we'll see, he is really cute though…. I'm totally getting his number” she chirps decidedly. You knew she would, it never takes much coaxing for her to want to get a guy's number, usually she didn't have to ‘get’ them, guys practically threw their numbers at her. I've gotta hand it to her this time though, Jake is a good looking gman.

Just then your phone rings, you look down and see Josh’s name flashing on the screen.

“oh shitting hell it's him!” you say looking at your friend like a deer in headlights.

“Well what are you out of your mind?? ANSWER IT!” she demands as she grabs your hand making you put your phone against your face.

“Hi, Josh” you say, shooing her hand away.

“Hey! I wasn't sure if you were going to answer” he says, you can tell a smile is beaming on his face.

“Yeah sorry my hands are kinda full and I had to dig in my bag for my phone” you lied. Your hands were only carrying one bag, they were hardly full, and your phone was already in your hand as well. You didn't want Josh to know you were too nervous to answer right away and your friend had to basically force feed the phone to you.

“Oh well, i'm done with rehearsal.. What are you up to?” he asks, he must have JUST got done with practice because you can hear him and who you assume is the rest of the band fumbling with some equipment in the background.

“Oh me and y\f\n are just at the mall, well we're leaving now, we just wanted to pick up some new outfits for..” your voice trails. Shit. you did not want him to know you were here getting new clothes for his show, that would give him a big ego.

For christs sake y\n make something up QUICK BEFORE-

“For what?” he questions, his voice interrupting you from your panicked thoughts.

Fuck.

“Ummm for …. A birthday party! Yeah next weekend, her cousin's birthday party. Its gonna be on a boat at the lake so we wanted to get some beach appropriate attire” you say, what a shit-headed fucking lie, really? A birthday party? On a boat??? Josh simply laughs

“Birthday party huh? Sounds like a good time” he's smiling again.

“Well I hope you have fun.. So you wanna get together tonight?” he asks getting right to the elephant in the room. You pause and look at your friend who nods so hard you thought she was going to slip a disc in her spine.

“Aren't you really busy? You're in a band you must have like no free time to hangout with me” you say prolonging your answer.

“Well no I don't have much free time, but i'm freeing up my time...for you” he responds. His words were so sweet but so hard to hear and they made you feel both happy and conflicted at the same time.

“I'll bring Jake,” he adds.

Your friend snatches your phone when she hears this.

“Yes! Lets hangout! Our address is 1342 sunfield st. Why don't you guys stop over, let's say,in an hour!” she chimes cheerfully. You can hear Josh’s voice responding but cant make out what he's saying.

“Awesome see you guys soon!” she says once more before hanging up the phone. You just stand there looking at her with zero expression on your face.

“You'll thank me later” she remarks, tossing you your phone and continuing through the mall.

“Come on slowpoke we gotta get date ready!” she bounces up and down grabbing your hand pulling you along. You were really excited to see Josh again, nervous as hell, but excited nonetheless. What were you going to wear?

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

The two of you finally returned back to your house, your friend made a bee-line for her room, you did the same. You stood hopelessly in front of your closet.

“God I have nothing to wear!” you holler to your friend.

“You can borrow something of mine,” she offers. You hear her shuffling through her drawers, she's probably ripping through her clothes. With a quick pace you made your way to her room.

“What should I wear?” you ask looking through her clothes she's already tossed aside.

“I haven't the faintest idea, I guess it depends on what we're going to do. Maybe wear something practical? Multi-purpose” she suggests. No help. You grab a pair of ripped skinny jeans and a black tank top that had a red floral pattern. This'll do. Sauntering back to your room you slip the outfit on and look at yourself in the mirror. Thank god you and her were basically the same size. Now all that was left was the matter of your hair and makeup. You decided to go with something simple, you didn't want to look like you were trying to impress him (even though you were). You tied your hair into a high pony-tail leaving a few strands down in the front to frame your face.

With gentle and effortless precision you put on your eyeliner, it really brings out your eyes and makes your cheekbones look nice. Usually that was the only makeup you wore, but tonight, you decided to put on some lipstick for good measure, a nice natural blush color. You smile at your reflection, which rarely ever occurred.

“You look great!” your friend's voice fills the air, light pink waves crashing over hot sand, you watch as the waves echo out of your bedroom window.

You turn to look at her, she's wearing a knee length sky blue spaghetti strap dress, it was simple and pretty and fit her frame perfectly. She wore a pair of white doc martens to top off her soft grunge look, her hair was down and barely touched her shoulders.

“What happened to ‘wear something practical’”? You question with a grin.

“To hell with it, I need to look irresistible” she answers.

“Well you do, I love that dress” you respond. There was a knock on the door, you and y\f\n looked at each other before the both of you scurried excitedly to the door.

“Oh wait wait WAIT” you exclaim in a hushed yell as you ran into the bathroom, you grabbed your favorite perfume and spritzed a careful amount over your body.

“Ok go go go” you say as you toss the bottle back on the counter. The two of you rush to the door looking each other over one last time before your friend pulls the door open. In front of you stand Josh and Jake, both wearing sweet smiles.

“Hey,” Josh says looking at you, his smile grew softer and more sincere the longer he looked at you. You picked up on it and blushed letting out a pathetically soft “hi”

“Come on in” your friend says, opening the door even wider. The boys step inside looking around, taking in their surroundings.

“Nice place, Josh and I share an apartment” Jake states with a soft chuckle

“This is hardly our house, her parents pay our rent” you say nodding toward your friend. She smiles

“Yeah they're loaded! So what do you guys wanna do?” she says quickly. Jake laughs at her remark.

“We thought we could go for a walk, maybe get some ice cream” josh says, more to you than the other two.

“A walk? It's like 10 pm” your friend says a small laugh escaping her lips.

“That's the best time to go” Jake says.

“Don't worry we'll protect you from any robbers” Josh jokes. You smile, you did everytime he looked at you, you couldn't help it he was so pretty.

“Sounds fun” you chime.

“Im 100% getting blue moon” your friend says grabbing her purse

“Oh you don't need that, ill buy” Jake offers, your friend looks at you with a smile.

“My kinda guy” she jokes again. Jake and Josh laugh and you all head out the door. The night air was crisp and clean, the smell of rain still hung in the sky. The ground was damp and the clouds were still looming and dark, but the rain had settled to a light sprinkle. You could smell it all, the droplets that hung off the leaves and the wet earthy dirt they fell onto. It was your absolute favorite smell, it reminded you of fall, which was only a few weeks away. The thought of that made you face burn red as you remembered you told josh that you had a birthday party on a boat to go to in a few weeks not stopping to think about what season it was. Dumbass. There's no way he fell for that.

Jake and your friend trailed slightly behind you and Josh, keeping conversion as they did. You heard them both laugh every few seconds and they seemed to be getting along.

“You look really pretty,” Josh speaks, forcing your attention on him.

“Oh” you smile.

“Thank you, I couldn't really find anything nice to wear, so I had to borrow something of hers” you admit with a laugh.

“You could have worn a trash bag, you'd still look pretty,” he says. His voice was dark and gentle like melted chocolate. His words ripped through you like wind through trees and all you could think about was his girlfriend.

“Can I ask you something?” you question.

“You can ask me anything” he responds, his eyes searching the ground.

“Why are you so nice to me?” you ask, your voice falls a little. Josh looks at you and then a passing car steals his gaze.

“When I first saw you I felt this pressure lift from my shoulders and then I couldn't take my eyes off of you, even if I wanted to I couldn't. You filled my head and I hadn't even spoken to you yet. One look.. And you entranced me…” he says softly.

“There's something between us y/n and I need to know what it is” he speaks again. Both of you had stopped walking by now, Jake and your friend were across the street ordering everyone's ice cream and standing noticeably close. Now that you thought about it, so were you and Josh.

“What about your girlfriend?” you ask, barely able to form words, all you could focus on was his perfect lips and enchanting eyes. You were close enough that you could smell his faint cologne pass your nose with every slight gust of wind. Your mention of his girlfriend didn't seem to phase him at all.

“Things with me and her are complicated, our relationship was set up through our parents and it's just a mess.. A forced mess. She doesn't feel that close to me, I've known you for a day and I've felt more things with you than I've ever felt with her. He explains. He was being honest, it wasn't just a show or him telling you what you want to hear.

“So why don't you just break up with her?” you ask again.

“I've never broken up with anyone before… I don't know how...plus her dad is our band manager and it would just cause a lot of problems” he admits. You understood how he felt, you'd never broken up with anyone either, you've always been on the receiving end of a bad breakup. Jake and y/f/n return, arms full of ice cream.

“Peanut butter cup, your favorite” your friend chimes, handing you a double scoop of the creamy treat stuffed generously into a waffle cone. Waffle cones were amazing, you never understood why anyone got anything else, they were delicious and if you rice cream started to melt it would catch in the diamond shaped waffle divots of the cone and not drip on your clothes. Yummy and practical.

“Thanks” you say, taking a refreshing lick. The four of you walked aimlessly around town, talking and laughing the whole way until you eventually wound up back at your house.

“Wow i cant believe how late it is already” Jake says looking at his phone, which prompted you to do the same.

“Holy shit it's 1am” you say, which was probably a mistake because saying it out loud made you realize how tired you actually are. Josh looks at you

“Yeah it's late but I don't wanna leave” he admits a smile forms on his sweet face. He looked cute when he was tired.

“....you can stay the night if you'd like” you say nervously tugging at the hem of your shirt. Josh's face lit up

“It is very dangerous to drive while you're tired” your friend comments. Jake smiles and looks at Josh as the four of you walk back inside.

“I'm game” he says plopping down on the couch.

“Yeah I guess we can just crash on the couch” Josh says with a shrug, your friend quickly intervenes.

“Oh no no no this old couch will kill your back, you can sleep in y/n’s room!” she offers. You freeze. In my room? In the same bed? At the same time?

“Right y/n?” your friend speaks again, with a perky tone. Her eyes grow wide, glaring at you for a quick second.

“Oh uh yeah totally, these couches are stone” you say trying to sound nonchalant.

“Jake and I will probably stay up a while, why don't you guys head to bed?” your friend says again. Wow she's really pushing for you two to be together. You laugh at her and once again roll your eyes.

“Yeah, cmon Josh, it's right down the hall” you say, leading him to your room.

He closes the door behind him as the two of you enter. There's a moment of silence.

“You know, I can sleep on the floor if you're not comfortable with this,” he says stuffing his hands nervously in his pockets. It was tempting considering he had a girlfriend already but you couldn't remember the last time you vacuumed this floor.

“No that's ok, I'm fine with sharing the bed, I wouldn't ask you to sleep on the floor” you say with a chuckle before yawning.

“I'm more tired than I realized” you add , sleep tugging at your eyelids.

“Me too” Josh says stretching. You looked down at what you were wearing. Jeans. Yikes. You can't sleep in jeans.

“Do you want me to leave so you can change?” he asks, reaching for the door handle.

“Um yeah sorta” you giggle shyly, he smiles.

“Just knock when you're ready” he says, stepping out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. You quickly pull your clothes off and toss them in your laundry basket before grabbing light blue pajama shorts that had little red cherries patterned across them, then you grabbed the matching blue tank top and took off your makeup with some wipes you kept in your drawer. You let your hair down and checked yourself in the mirror before knocking twice on the door.

“I'm done” you chime. Josh steps back in, his eyes fall down your body and his facial expression softens.

“Still pretty” he says brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. Your body warms to his touch. It was so gentle and soft, you look down, smiling to yourself.

“Are you gonna change?” you ask realizing he's wearing jeans too.

“Well I usually sleep in my boxers” he says, not breaking eye contact with you.

“That's fine, whatever's comfortable” you reply walking gover to your bed and sliding in. Josh starts to undo his belt and he lets his pants fall to his ankles before stepping out of them and pulling his shirt over his head. His body was a wonderful olive tone and he had a thin trail of hair that led from his belly button to his… you know.

Your face flushes as you think more about how undeniably sexy he iis. He smiled almost like he could hear your thoughts.

“I'll get the light” he says, switching it off. Then there was darkness. You felt his body slide in bed next to you, immediately warming you. His smooth skin brushed against yours as he turned on his side to face you. His hand lifted to your face and he strokes your cheek with his thumb gracefully.

“This feels….right” his voice breaks the silence and floats in your ears.

“Yeah it does” you admit, he couldn't see it, but you had a huge smile on your face. Your bedroom window is wide open and it began to rain agoian outside, you could hear every droplet splash against the ground and the wind blew gently through the trees. The wind blew through the window sending a chill through your room. You got goosebumps and shook slightly. Instantly Josh wrapped his arm around your side and pulled you into his chest. His delicious cologne still lingering on his body. His warmth and the comfort of his touch had you sleeping almost instantaneously.

“Goodnight y/n” he said softly, his fingers tracing a pattern on your back.

“Goodnight Josh” you reply tiredly. You wondered what Jake and your friend were doing, they must have fallen asleep or were watching a movie because you couldn't hear them in the living room, you fell asleep trying to decide.

You were jolted awake by Josh who jumped out of your bed.

“What's wrong?” you ask as you sit up rubbing your eyes. You could hear him quickly pulling his jeans back on .

“Hey, go back to sleep, I just, I have to go,” he says, putting his shirt on.

“It's your girlfriend isn't it?” you question, he sighs and sits on your bed.

“Yea she called me like twenty times, it's already 10am….I should go” he says reluctantly. You nod, you didn't want him to leave but it really wasn't up to you.

“Okay” you say softly

“Hey….” he says getting closer to you, his fingers gently grab your face and he kisses you passionately. His lips are soft and hungry, he leans over you slightly as if he's trying to savor every last taste of you, but the two of you battle for power, he wins. His thumb strokes your cheek and he pulls away softly, your face still in his hands, your foreheads rested gently against each other’s. His eyes searched yours for forgiveness.

“I'll text you as soon as I can” he assures. You nod as he gets off your bed and heads for the door. He offers you one last smile before he disappears down the hall. You fall back on your pillow with an exhausted sigh. His warmth still imprinted on the sheets and his smell still drifting through the air.

#flower power part 2 #flower power #josh kiszka #josh kiszka imagine #greta van fleet #gretavanfleet

44 notes · View notes

marshunter06 · 4 years

Text

Can I Get a Connection?

2- Idiots, Idiots Everywhere

New York City is in full crisis mode. The number of positive cases keep rising and soon the hospitals will be at full capacity. A lockdown is in order to help curb the spread, which would help if people would just stay inside. Being a frontline worker is an even harder job now with all these dumbasses deciding now is the perfect time to wreak havoc when the city is vulnerable. The amount of people Natasha’s had to arrest for being racist assholes is unbelievable. Not to mention the disgusting creeps who think it’s alright to sexually harass women walking alone on the streets. This was supposed to be the time where people come together and pull through out of this pandemic, but wicked don’t rest which means Natasha can’t either. The only bright side is that when her shift finally ends, she gets to go back to her own apartment. That and she gets to talk to her neighbor.

“I have your prescriptions. I’m leaving it hanging on your door. I disinfected it already, but just to be safe you should wipe it down again.”

“Thank Nat, you really don’t have to do this though. You have so much on your plate already.”

“I knew what I signed up for the minute I stepped into the precinct. The job never ends, besides you’re my friend, I want you to stay safe. If you even think about running off on your own, you’ll be in serious trouble.”

“I know, I know. I just don’t want to be more of a burden. I’m not really doing anything to help.”

“Trust me, just listening to me vent everyday is helping.”

Right before people started overstocking on supplies, Steve had the foresight to go and get some essentials. He made sure to get extras for Natasha knowing she would be too buried with work to take care of it herself. She appreciated it, but she also chewed him out for leaving his apartment when the outbreak was just starting. From that moment, she made him promise not to leave his apartment or else. She made the executive decision to help him get his medication and any other items he needed. With his preexisting conditions and weakened immune system, it was not worth the risk for him to come into contact with the virus. He tried to protest at first, but he couldn’t argue much, she was right.

“What happened today?”

“It’s pretty depressing. I walked a young girl home today cause a guy was stalking her. He started calling her names and threatening her too.”

“What did you do with the guy?”

“Clint took care of him, he said it would make the girl feel safer if I took her home. He was right.”

“That guy got off easy then.”

“Probably not, Clint and I are the same in that way. I’m sure he hit a few extra bumps before getting to the station.”

“You’re lucky to have a partner who has your back.”

“Yeah, he’s my best friend. He’s the one who convinced me to join the force with him. You would like him.”

“Maybe when this is all over we can meet.”

“What about you? What have you been up to while I’ve been gone?”

“Pretty boring compared to you. I’ve been finishing up a logo design for a tech company. It’s a good thing my job was mostly online anyways.”

“That’s great! Something to keep you busy.”

They talk for another fifteen minutes until Steve tells her to go home. She worked overtime again, and he knew she was exhausted, especially with how terrible humanity has been in her surrounding. She doesn’t try to fight it, she did need the rest, tomorrow is another day, and with officers shamefully taking paid time off at a time like this she’s had to pick up the extra slack. When it rains it pours. Everyone needs a peak of sunshine, and hers is Steve.

She wakes up at nine in the morning when her alarm goes off. Switching from the night shift to the morning in such a short amount of time has taken a toll, she powers through it, but she’s looking forward to having a day off in a few days. She’s worked everyday for two weeks now due to the pandemic. She gets ready for the day taking her coffee in a travel mug off for hopefully a better day at work. As she walks down the stairs, she wonders for the millionth time why she thought it would be a great idea to live in an apartment complex with no elevators. She smiles as she sees Steve waving at her through his usual spot by the window. He holds up a sign that says Hope Today is Better for you Nat!

“Thanks Rogers, see you tonight!”

As thanks for Natasha helping him stay indoors, Steve’s taken time cooking for her whenever she says she has a craving for something. Usually she also brings him takeout on her way home, but every now and then she misses home cooking. That and Steve has spoiled her in the couple of months they’ve known each other. He was a great cook, he learned from his mother before she passed. Since he spent most of his time at home, he had lots of time to practice.

She was in a better mood by the time she arrived at her desk next to Clint’s. He of course couldn’t resist teasing her.

“What’s got you so chipper? Let me guess Rogers again?”

“Just because I’m feeling better doesn’t mean it’s because of Steve.”

“It’s Tuesday, and yesterday was shit. You’re usually moody until the day before your weekend. He’s made you soft. Which isn’t a bad thing, you deserve to be happy too Nat.”

“I should be saying that to you. Sure there isn’t anyone I should know about?”

“Pfft. I’m not really looking for anyone after what happened with Laura.”

“She was nice, just bad timing.”

“Yeah, I know. Anyways, Fury wants us to patrol around hospitals today. Apparently some people have been trying to steal PPE’s.”

“What? We don’t even have enough for the staff!”

“Yeah, selfish bastards are everywhere. Better to catch them before the media gets wind of this. Spreading negativity at a time like this won’t help, people will start losing hope.”

“I swear we didn’t have this many idiots before this whole mess.”

“When there’s chaos, there’s always criminals to take advantage of it. That’s the bad side to human nature.”

#romanogers #social distancing fic #CIGAC #WIP #just some thoughts I have to rant about

13 notes · View notes

ranger-kellyn · 4 years

Text

11 Favorite Excerpts

In honor if it being the 11 year anniversary of the first fic I ever posted, Platinum Bound, I thought I’d list out 10 of my favorite excerpts from everything I’ve posted so far, 1 from something I haven’t posted yet, and then kind of just. Talk about it~

As always, feel free to talk to me about any of my fics, no matter how old or new~ I’m very vain~<3

1 - Come With Me - Prologue - 03/02/2015 - Completed

A day that was supposed to be filled with sorrow and mourning had turned out to be very lovely. The cold that had long persisted since November had decided to lighten its icy grip on this one day in particular. It was almost a tragedy in itself that the weather failed to match the mood by pouring a relentless downpour. Rain was fit for a funeral. Not sunshine.

The opening to Come With Me has always had a special place in my heart, and while I know my writing has gotten better since then, I always hold up this opening as like...my premium brand, I suppose. I love the mood the prologue sets up for Siebold’s side of the story. Mismatched weather. His parents having the same death date. A sense of odd relationship dynamics with them. Clear indication that there’s going to be a lot of conflict with Jean as shown by Diantha, Siebold’d childhood friend, who has a clear disdain towards him. CWM may not be my BEST WORK, but it’s probably one of my favorites. ALSO....come on...the restaurant’s name is Apple of The Earth, which is a direct translation of pomme de terre, which is French for potato. And like???? i just get a little kick out of it every time

2 - It Takes Two - 12/16/2014 - Oneshot

Siebold chuckled. “A water dark type? My, my. You’ve already put yourself at a disadvantage. Cress shook his head. “Don’t give away your secret ingredient just yet, Siebold. Leave something to the imagination, please,” he teased.

If there is ONE THING I LOVE it’s writing flirty banter for these two, and this fic if full of it. My first fic for Cress/Siebold, staking my claim on the pool noodle that is this ship. I AM the captain of this pool noodle

3 - Second Chances - Chapter 7 - 06/14/2017 - Ongoing

“It was supposed to be me!” . . . Shaking, she stopped herself in the front hallway. Looking over the large, glass-famed map, she felt as though she was leaving her own body as she slammed herself against it in a last ditch effort to feel something other than emotional pain. In an effort to put a physical wound to her emotional one.

There’s plenty of happier lines from this fic I could choose. Ch 10 had a section I was considering instead, but I think this emotionally charged section has always stood out for me. I like to generally characterize Cynthia as someone who is in control of her emotions, or at the very least, is very good at compartmentalizing things, but here, she absolutely loses it. No rationality. No seeking help. Just raw pain. It was supposed to be me. Because it was! It absolutely was! In the previous chapter you learn that Diantha had fully intended to propose to her! But was instead manipulated by her mother and manager into leaving Cynthia. While Cynthia didn’t know that, we do, and that makes that line so much more painful to me. I swear. ONE DAY. I’ll actually finish this fic.

4 - Fortune and Fame - Chapter 1 - 03/23/2016 - Completed

“The best part of that outfit would be taking it off.” Her mouth turns into a smile. “I should think so,” she tells you.

Second person POV is a HUGE pain in the ass, but I still love this silly little fic, and I love this silly little moment EVEN MORE. What can I say. I love flirty banter. This whole fic was an absolute experiment, and while it certainly could be better, considering 2POV is not something I regularly work with, I’ve never been too upset with it.

5 - Stockholm - Chapter 4 - 06/20/2016 - Ongoing

“You’re my mission and my mission alone. I don’t need outside help,” he tells me. I catch myself about to laugh. “Figured you would welcome it seeing as whatever you think you’re doing to me clearly isn’t working.” He moves closer, enough for me to feel the warmth of his body, but it’s only when I think he’s looking at my lips do I come to my senses, pulling my legs up to my person, and pushing back up against the wall. “I would say it’s working just fine.”

i like to think of this fic as me playing in a sandbox. i don’t REALLY know what i’m doing, but i’m having fun, and that’s all that matters. This is a fic I had been thinking about for the longest time. I abandoned it back in 2016. I don’t really remember why, but I posted the first update early this year, and I just. I’ve been loving it since. I haven’t played in first person in SUCH a long time, it’s just nice to play in the space, and explore a darker emotion I guess. Game verse Commander Saturn/Dawn is always a weakness of mine

6 - Shadows of My Heart - Chapter 4 - 02/22/2011 - Completed

Looking at Kellyn, I notice that he has taken his jacket off and is now offering it to me. Shaking my head, I tell him that I can't take it, even though I would love nothing more than to take him up on his offer. He walks closer, smiling as he places his jacket over me. Now, the only thing I hear is the sound of the rain bouncing off of Kellyn's jacket, and the sound my own heartbeat. I'd have to be crazy or dead to not be blushing right now, and obviously my pulse is still going…

if you’ve followed me for a few years, you might think this is a weird pick for me. i complain about it a lot. i experience a lot of visceral cringe whenever i reread it (Like i did just now searching for a section i liked) But that’s why I like it. I love having this visible benchmark of where I’ve come from, and where my ideals have shifted to. I’ve always written Kellyn as my Ideal Man™© and in this fic he is suCH A “NICE GUY” AND IT’S JUST. SO BAD. I’M SO GLAD I’M NOT WITH THE KIND OF PERSON I USED TO WISH I WAS WITH. This fic is, at best, clumsy. Younger me was venting a LOT of stuff. Everything I put Rhythmi through in the fic, I was dealing with irl, and NOT handling them well. I never recommend this for reading, but I list it here because it’s like looking in a time capsule.

7 - Washington Blues - Chapter 2 - 04/30/2012 - Abandoned Work

Looking back up at me, the afternoon sun shines on her face. As if I needed to be reminded that she is very pretty. “I believe that it is too soon to be giving a definite answer, but,” she pauses to brush some hair behind her ear, “I do believe I am going to like it here.” I nod, liking the answer she has provided. I put my pink bag over my shoulder, and step down the stairs. “That’s good to hear. I do hope you come to love our little band,” I say, putting a little emphasis on “our”. Hopefully she will start using that term as well.

This fic has been abandoned since 2012, but as I was rereading it just now, I...felt a weird urge to give it a second chance? Marching band was my EVERYTHING in high school. It was basically my personality. It and Homestuck. If nothing else, I think I might give this fic a redo, because it’s something my younger self would have loved. I had so many ideas I wanted to explore and I think it would be a fun space to explore. Just reading it I got the most tactile memories of band camp, from the sounds, all the way down to the god awful smells. One day I’ll give this fic another go, but probably in 3rd person lmao. Also, it’s kind of funny. I remember holding this fic up as like. My Magnum Opus. I considered chapter 1 to be the BEST thing I had written up to that point. Now? It’s so fucking D RY......and no real person talks like they all do l m a o I love being able to see how far I’ve come.

8 - Hindsight - Sometime Feb 2014? - Oneshot for an old RP group

This question led him to placing both of his hands in his lap. “I would never describe her as winter. It’s the season she hates the most. From what I’ve gathered during our travels together, understandably so,” he answered, not meeting her eyes.

While this fic is OLD it holds a very special place in my heart. I had stopped writing for a while. For about 2 years nothing I wrote ever really panned out, and joining that RP group was literally the best thing I could have done for my creativity. It was so much fun, and I met some truly incredible people thanks to it. Literally, everything I’ve written since I attribute to that group. <3 I may not talk to most of them anymore, but I have some of the best memories of that time, and I just. Genuinely don’t think I would have HALF of what I have written now if it hadn’t been for their support. <3

9 - Ours For The Taking - Chapter 2 - 01/28/2012 - Abandoned Work

Killing is in the nature of almost every Pokémon, but we humans have inhibited that out for the most part. It doesn't take much to trigger the instinct though. A couple kills and then they thirst for blood.

Now i know this looks like a WACK ASS PICK. It’s been abandoned since 2012. It’s bad. It’s gore. It’s bad. But that’s exactly why I picked it. That, and I know it would chap Farla’s ass bc she told me years ago how awful this fic was. The whole reason my writing confidence took a blow. I can look back and know that this fic wasn’t great, but I hate for my younger self that they were knocked down like that. You can’t learn the boundaries of your writing until you try to push them. Maybe I could have turned into a great gore/horror writer if I hadn’t been knocked down? Who knows? But because of that negative experience, I now approach all comments I leave on fics with “unconditional positive regard”. I firmly believe if someone wants con-crit they’ll ask for it, and even then, I’m not someone who is going to offer up that criticism. That’s not my jam. I’m just here for a good time. This fic may be bad, but that’s why I love it. I love how over the top, 2Edgy4me the two chapters are.

10 - Getaway Car - Chapter 5 - 01/01/2019 - Ongoing

Pulling away just enough to make them look at one another, Cynthia looked her over. She was getting more drunk admissions than she ever thought she would, and she was in no frame of mind to worry about pushing her luck. “How did that make you feel?” she asked. She let her hand trail down her arm as she spoke. “Grounded. Like nothing else in the world mattered except us in that moment. I wasn’t worried about filming, deadlines, what people might say or think, or– anything, really. All that mattered was the calm you brought me, and how without meaning to you’ve made me feel like the most important person in the room.”

It’s no secret that Getaway Car is like. MY BABY. This is MY FIC. MY BABY. I CHERISH THIS FIC FOR SO MANY REASONS. I like venting through characters, and this fic is no exception. But I loved writing this moment specifically, because it just...I think it encapsulates everything Diantha has been looking for. She lives a charmed, chaotic life. Up to that point in the fic, she’s with a man who can’t really be bothered to give her the time of day, but also can’t handle the idea of letting her go. Without meaning to, without necessarily trying to, Cynthia makes her feel like the most important person in the room. She grounds her, and someone who lives a star-studded life needs that. This fic is my baby. My everything. It’s probably what I’m known for at this point, and I’m A-OK with that because these two are my everything. (ALSO, I specifically posted this fic when I did to get Farla to leave me a review, and had a good laugh about it when she did. My “bat shit crazy” plot device has ended up being my most popular fic~)

11 - Namtaflu - Chapter _ - Draft from NaNoWriMo 2019

The sound of something rising to the surface of the water attracted everyone’s attention. Turning their eyes towards the water, one by one, countless Starmie and Staryu began to surface, floating atop the water, their bright gem center’s shining in the moonlight. “Oh, wow,” Bianca said, holding the Audino closer to herself. "What are they doing?” Hilbert asked, turning himself so he wasn’t having to strain to look at them. Cheren shrugged. “They’ve always done this.” "They’re looking at the stars,” Hilda added. “It’s what Nona would always tell me. She said she read it in a book somewhere. They surface at night to look at the stars, and they’ll even start blinking here soon.” As she said it, from out in the distance, quick flashes of red began to move along the waves, reminding both her and Cheren of fireflies from further south. Soon enough, the entire shoreline was filled with the water pokémon blinking away at the stars, almost as if they were communicating with each other, or even something else. A few Audino continued to sit with them, everyone moved to silence by the display, afraid to make a single noise, not wanting to scare them at all and make them stop. The display moved in waves, like a heartbeat, ebbing and flowing. At times they were bright enough to cast a glow onto the shore, and at others it seemed like they had collectively stopped for the night. Once Broadway and Manhattan had decided to retire for the night, the group came to an agreement that it was time they retired for the night as well. They had stayed up long past sundown, but it had been worth every second.

I won’t be posting this fic WELL until my three current ongoing fics are completed, but this fic is pretty much everything to me. I first got the idea for this fic back in 2013, my senior year of high school. I wrote the first draft my first NaNoWriMo in 2014, and did a second draft of it last year. This fic has evolved SO MUCH, but this last draft is where I’m REALLY happy with it. I firmly believe there’s never a “right time” to write a fic, but I also believe this fic absolutely benefited from me not posting it after that first draft. They’re almost two entirely different stories. The original had a lot of unhealthy relationship dynamics, and this time, i decided, FUCK THAT, and now it’s a hilda/hilbert/cheren/bianca poly fic ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ I can’t wait for the day when I actually get to share this fic with the world.

#writing tag #my fics #i spENT ALL DANG DAY ON THIS

3 notes · View notes

antihero-writings · 4 years

Text

A Touch of Song and Salem (Ch2)

Fandom: Hetalia (Firefly Crossover)

Summary: Earth got used up. They got used up. So the nations of the world had to flee into the black...but they'll only ever be half alive now.

America forgot how to smile at the academy...but maybe a day out planetside is all she needs. Hopefully the people on said planet won't try to burn her down.

(A fusion-style crossover with fem!America and Canada from Hetalia in the Firefly universe, cast as Simon and River during the dance and witch scenes of the episode "Safe.")

Notes: Written for my friend @ladynephthyss’ birthday!! The characterizations of the Hetalia characters are based on her characterizations of them!! (She plans on posting some Hetalia stuff soon, please go check her out!!)

We both love Firefly, especially Simon and River, and as I love writing fusion-style crossovers I thought this would be perfect!!

I’ll reblog this with links to Ch1, as well as reblog ch1 with ch2 soon!!

If you enjoy this fic, please consider commenting and/or reblogging!! It really means the world to me!!

Chapter 2:

Amelia doesn’t remember everything. She doesn’t remember every war between countries, every petty squabble between her family. She doesn’t remember all the things Jackson said when he was angry, and Roosevelt when he was calm. She doesn’t quite remember how she felt when it rained after too-long summers. She doesn’t remember the feeling of wildfire, of too-long winters where they had to eat the men after all. Of every man hunt over silly things like color, if we’d like to share everything after all. Not entirely. She doesn’t quite remember what it was to have fields, open and untamed.

She doesn’t remember Roanoke; she doesn’t remember Salem. She tries not to.

She doesn’t remember how the sea boiled, the earth choked, and the sky burned when they had to move off world.

She doesn’t remember what it felt like to burn.

She doesn’t remember everything from the academy. She doesn’t remember how school was more like that of fish; that they had to stick together or they’d be picked off one by one and devoured. She doesn’t remember how they shoved needles into her brain like toothpicks, and gobbled up the pieces, her thoughts appetizers—(so what was the main course?).

She, smart girl, sane girl, doesn’t remember sending letters made of jumbled notions, speaking of monuments and worlds they’d never seen, events to which they’d never been. A fraud in coded verity. She doesn’t remember laying, eyes open, knowing tomorrow would not be molded together out of sunshine, and rain, and open air, it would be sewn out of blood and their own brains.

What she does remember...fragments. A flash here. An emotion there. She sees ghosts. Some benign. Some…not so. And she’s not always sure what’s a ghost and what’s a figment, a figment of yesterday, or just today’s unlucky daydreams. Though perhaps she’s always seen them.

She feels things. Too much.

She doesn’t remember everything. All of American history is too much for one girl’s head.

But she does remember Matthew.

She remembers how much he risked to save her from the needles. She remembers the feeling of his arms around her for the first time since she left him—(all for the sake of a little knowledge…She hated how she could be so petty sometimes). The way he still, after all this time, smelled like maple, and freshly fallen snow, and cigarette smoke. How he saved her.

(Though some of her got left behind.)

She remembers how Matthew danced with her, long ago—though the occasions bleed together.

They never much liked parties.

She remembers sitting curled up with him, and a good book, by the fire, petting a dog with her toes. Thinking of home. Knowing they were close enough.

So when they take him…she forgets how to smile.

It’s a game, surely. Hide and seek. She remembers that, at least. She must be “it”.

That thought alone keeps her from breaking. Breaking. Breaking the world down, herself in it.

So she counts to ten, and she runs. Through the forest, each tree—(no sweet sap from them this time of year)—like scarecrows pointing no particular way, just there to scare off the birds, and maybe a sensitive child or two.

She remembers the farms, and the wind over the wheat, scarecrows like sentries.—Why do they say ravens are bad omens?—The farms, the plantations, and the songs gliding over them, songs of a home those working in the fields could never return to.

And she finds him. He wasn’t hiding altogether well. In fact, he’s with people out in the open, some strangers—Are they friends? Are they playing too?

“Found you~!” The smile returns. It’s okay. He’s safe. They can go back to dancing now.

The horror in his eyes tells her the world might just have to break after all.

“Amelia! Amelia, no!” He breaks free from the not-so-friends holds, grabbing her too tightly, pushing her away.

“Found you—!” She repeats the words, though the tone is entirely different, choked ang confused, as the men wrap their arms around her, and their grip is not kind, and they smell like blood.

Well…if they are to return to the needles…at least they will be together.

******

Matthew knocks lightly on the door to Arthur’s study and walks in, despite having been given no sign of welcome.

Arthur is sitting at his desk, his glasses on the tip of his nose, scrutinizing a book, his brow creased a little too hard.

Matthew sits in the chair across from him, and sets the letters down in front of him; the topic of conversation.

There is a full cup of tea on the table in front of Arthur.

Full? Yes. Steaming? No.

Arthur never lets tea go cold.

That alone would be enough to warrant the next words;

“Something’s wrong.”

Arthur looks up, those blue eyes stormy and perfectly clear at the same time. “Yes, I gathered that as well.”

“You called me in here?” France knocks lightly before marching in. Despite it being Arthur’s study, Matthew is the one who responds;

“Yes.” The Canadian is tapping his foot a little too much, a little too quickly, a dull ache in his bottom lip. “It’s about Amelia’s letters.…Didn’t they seem strange to you?”

“I’m glad I’m not the only one.” Francis sits by the bookshelf. “They seemed quite odd indeed. Especially the part about the Darbanville’s. We don’t know anyone by that name.”

“What do you think is going on?” Arthur’s eyes fix on Matthew.

Matthew looks between them, then at the letters, the words rearranging themselves on the pages. He hoped they wouldn’t think he was crazy.

“I think there’s a code.”

The two older men exchange a glance, slight surprise on their faces, then resolve. Matthew presses on.

“We get a few letters, then nothing, then this? …She’s trying to tell is something.” The knot in his stomach just keeps getting tighter, the ache in his lip sharper. “Something that someone doesn’t want her to say.”

There’s a moment of thought

“…What do you suggest we do?”

He looked down, fidgeting with his hands before looking up, fire in his eyes.

"We go get her.”

******

The moon is particularly bright this night. Not whole. Almost. Just a little bit off. Like them.

The moon. In the sky. Where it belongs. Something from a spellbook, that would turn them into wolves when drunk on starlight. Not just a dull hunk of rock in the vacuum-shield in front of them.

On better worlds this would have been a quiet night. There would be crickets and frogs, and a brother and sister would have smoked weed or tobacco, lying on the grass and named the stars. On better worlds they would have spoke of life, and politics, and absolutely nothing at all.

On better worlds Salem had ended.

But this is not a better world.

So everything is so loud. The shouts of a people who forgot they lived in a universe where superstition was just that renders the silence speechless. They speak of God, and broken little girls, and this not-Earth resonates with their tones. One word rings through the mob like gunshots, and everything sounds a little too much like yesterday.

The word, the yesterday it conjures, mix into poison in his veins, which turns to venom on his tongue.

Matthew marches up to the patron. A respectable man, with a sense of justice. A cruel man; a sense, yes, but he filled the blanks in the wrong order. The words a bitter demand, and not a plea. No desperation in his voice, no hesitation; his head is level, and he thinks the patron’s is too. The trade would be fair and simple. There’s still hope. There’s no reason to resort to anything drastic just yet. The anger in his voice is barely bleeding through;

“Take me instead. Take my life for hers.”

“The witch must die. God commands it.” He didn’t even ponder it in that thick, empty skull of his.

At those statements, the two fists shaking at his sides, want to take this man’s neck and snap it between them, singing an old war song, and throw his body over a cliff, letting hungry waves devour him, or better yet out the airlock, where he will float breathless into the void for eternity…or maybe just lead him into the fire they’re intending to feed his sister to.

He could do it. He wanted to. He could fly away on Serenity’s wings and never have to answer for such a crime. He’s killed better men in wars before. And sometimes outside them.

But, no. He must sit quietly, and watch, and wait for the end. Amelia may not be very happy if her brother killed a man in front of her. Or…

He tried not to indulge the thought that maybe she would.

And when he sees the other men holding torches, torches licking their lips, about to let them lose on his sister—

—Lighting a poor girl on fire for the simple the charge that there was a demon inside her, like we all don’t all have ten or twelve—

All that anger comes pouring out. And before he fully comprehends what he’s doing he runs to them.

“Get away from her!” that venom drips off his lips, his hands fangs, grabbing at their clothes and wrenching them and their orange beasts away.

One of them throws a punch at him. Matthew may look weak, but he has been in far worse brawls against far bigger men, in far darker streets, and these ones just so happen to intend to hurt his sister, so it’s no trouble for him to knock the three of them down.

Once they’re on the ground or clutching their faces he turns to the crowd, rage boiling in his gut—

—Why? Why? Why is it always her? Why do they do this to her? When she was just a girl who wanted to live her life in peace?—

“She has done nothing to you!”

Because she never did. She never did anything to hurt anyone, and they always found some reason to kill her for it. Some charge worthy of death. Some reason to light her on fire. They always do that with the good ones. She knows this better than anyone. And he says the words he always wanted to say, to all of them, sadness breaking through the venom—It was so simple, why couldn’t they get that seeing ghosts is no charge worthy of burning?—

“If she dies tonight it won’t be God’s will that killed her! It’ll be you! Your lunacy! Your ignorance!”

He stares out at them, and they don’t respond in word or action: they don’t try to refute his words, or pull him away. They just stare, their eyes blank, a court of zombies. They’re at a stalemate, neither giving up the floor.

And he does what he should have done long ago, what he should have every time, every time he saw her in pain, every time they persecuted her to the point of torture, or death:

He raises his heel, and takes a step back onto the platform beside her.

“That’s not gonna stop us.” Says one of them.

He resists the urge to say Never once did I think it would.

Amelia turns to him, and he expects to see fear and bloody memory in her eyes—

But she smiles. Like she had hours ago. Like nothing’s wrong. Like they’re still dancing. Playing war games. And she says, calling back to something he told her earlier today;

“Post holer. Digging holes for posts.”

He looks at the post behind them; the one she’s tied to. The one that just might be the death of her.

Post holer. For the ground.

Long ago she had ground. In America. When they caged her wild plains in with fences and wire and laws, plowing holes and raking lines across her amber fields, and it wasn’t always bad, some were nice, there were farmers who just wanted to make an honest living, a pair of explorers, once, who just to see a little bit of the world…

They weren’t always bad, no…but she’d rather be free.

And now they dug a hole, and put in a post to burn a not-quite-girl, with her golden locks, and her wild fantasies—wild fantasies like being happy, some day—this girl who, earlier today, was smiling for the first time since the academy. Some savage mob on an innocuous world dug a hole for a post to burn America down.

He wraps his arms around her, and she is warm, and she smells like hay, and summer, strawberries, and gunpowder.

There’s no hesitation, no pain, nor even anger in the words this time. They are sheer resolve:

“Light it.”

He is willing to die for her. With her. If they can die at all. If they can, it’d be fitting it’d happen out here on a twisted echo of a worse America.

They’ve spent too much time starving in the black.

“Time to go.” Amelia says softly. And the words are not pained or afraid…there’s almost longing there.

If this is it, if this is how things will end, he thinks, it’s not the worst way to go. Fire’s certainly better than water, because at least in fire you can breathe. It’s better than the cold, because the cold has a way of ridding you of feeling before the end. At least in fire you can feel something. Because the cold is slow, and makes you rather eat your friends after all…People don’t do that with fire. He always thought burning would be a fitting end for the Great White North. It’s not the worst way to go; by his sister’s side.

This will be how America and Canada end: on some nameless world, tied to a post, devoured by flames and ignorance. And…they’re alright with that.

Then there’s another sound. A sound that isn’t shouts or flames or anything natural. Something that sounds mechanical. If he was delusional he’d think it was the whirring of a ship’s engine.

He feels a gust of wind brush by him, and a bright light forces him to open his eyes, squinting.

“Well look at this,” Out of the smoke a voice breaks through, and he says it like he came upon a good game of cricket. “Looks like the twins have got themselves into a spot of trouble.”

Arthur is marching through the crowd holding a gun, Francis at his side.

“It appears we arrived just in time. What does that make us?”

“Ehh, how would le’Amerique say it?” France puts a finger to his chin as if thinking, then says in his best attempt at an American accent; “Big damn heroes.”

“Ain’t we just.” England does the same. Then, as he arrives in front of the platform, in his normal accent: “So sorry for the interruption, gents. But it appears you have something that belongs to us. And we’d very much like it back.”

“This is a holy cleansing, you cannot think to thwart God’s will.”

“…Would you be ever so kind as to direct your attention to the lovely lady hanging out of the spaceship with the rather large gun?”

Matthew did the same, only to see Ireland; red hair like flames in the light, another line of red piercing the air as she aimed the gun around, looking like she’d like nothing more than to pull the trigger. He’d been privy to such a look on her face only a few times, and he could confirm hesitation was not in her vocabulary.

“I’d like to introduce you to my sister. She has taken a liking to the girl currently tied to the post, and she might just be in the mood to kill one or two of you. So rather, it’s her will you ought worry about thwarting.” He backs up, speaking to the twins now. “I must say, the two of your’s ability to get yourselves into trouble is near miraculous.”

“…Yes I’m very proud.”

“Cut her down.” And there’s a sting to his words this time.

“She’s a witch.” The patron says, as if, upon hearing the words, Arthur will reply Oh? A witch? I wasn’t aware. Go about your business.

“Quite frankly, I’m surprised you’re bright enough to notice. Yes, she is. But she’s our witch.”

His eyes aim at the respectable man, and they’re far more threatening than the gun pointing at his head. The words contain a venom related to Matthews, but it’s the way his eyes blaze that remind Matthew that he’s watched the world burn more than once;

“So cut her the hell down.”

4 notes · View notes