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thefanficmonster · 3 years

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There You Are

PART 2: ‘Finally, You’re Back’

Karl Heisenberg x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Mild spoilers for Resident Evil 8:Village, Swearing

Genre: Romance, Mild Angst

Summary: It’s the life before the nightmare. It’s the breath of fresh air before the pollution. The sunshine before the storm. And there they are, standing in the warmth of a sunny spring day in that Romanian village, their meeting coincidental yet fated at the same time.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! I’m sorry for the long wait but here it finally is - you request turned into a fic! Also, big thanks to that other Anon who gave me the idea of modifying the fic in a way where it’s now gonna be a two-parter, a sort of the before the nightmare and the aftermath of Heisenberg’s turning. Regardless, I hope you enjoy the read. Love, Vy ❤

Because one is incapable of expecting the unexpected One can never see what the future may hold One can never know what storms await One can never fully prepare And neither did he Because he could’ve never guessed Never known He could only see so far ahead He could only plan so much Yet he always thought he’d run free Let the winds and rivers guide him forward Never did he think his fate would uproot him into a nightmare He had no idea what to expect He had no idea he’d never be the same again Hell, to him it was the first and last time But to his hope it was a lightning spark Praying for more Regardless, in that moment When eyes met eyes, all he could think was... ‘There you are’

And there they were, standing in the almost completely melted snow on the outskirts of the Romanian village, the shy sun rays shimmering on their skin, making their hair glow. Their gaze gave away nothing yet so much simultaneously. Their crystal, shining yet still tired orbs were busy taking in their surroundings, their back turned to him. They didn’t have to face him for him to be able to guess they weren’t from around here. Truth be told, there were several clues that let him know: the clothes, the shoes, the sun-kissed skin - which there’s no way they could’ve obtained from the gloomy sunless winter in the village- but most important, the dead giveaway was the huge rucksack burdening their back and shoulders.

‘A traveler‘, he thought, ‘They’re probably lost. There’s no way they landed in this shithole on purpose.‘

The contemplation of whether to address them or not ends shortly and not really willingly - it mostly has to do with the fact that his thoughts were momentarily shut up when the traveler’s eyes met his.

Even with the amount of distance between them, something in those E/C pools glinting in the faint sunlight while also reflecting the brightness of the last remaining snow on the ground stole his breath away and paralyzed him. He was rendered helpless and unmoving from simple eye contact with this stranger.

But they weren’t done surprising him with the overwhelming power they unknowingly possessed.

They, out of the blue, shot him a smile that could only be described as blinding. One that sent his heart racing, eyes widening ever so slightly with disbelief. He was rarely offered such a kind reaction upon being seen by someone. A smile - not a mocking or menacing one - was an expression he rarely saw directed towards him.

‘They don’t know you, idiot!‘ He scolds himself mentally, ‘They don’t know what kind of lowlife piece of shit you are.‘

Yeah, they don’t. And they’re never gonna find out

He was willing to pull every lie from the book to keep his miserable life as a nearly homeless, poorly treated worker of three jobs hidden from this stranger. He didn’t want to see pity in those eyes nor sympathy in their smile.

He didn’t want things to change. Though, he simultaneously didn’t know what ‘things’ he didn’t want changed.

And so, he decided to create some, knowing full-well they would be temporary.

“Need any help? You lost or something?“ He calls out to them as he makes his way down from the cliff and into the large field where they’re standing.

They shake their head in response, loose strands of hair forming a curtain over their features as they do so, their smile never fading, “Nope, not at all. I’m exactly where I wanna be.”

“What could you possibly wanna see here?“ He asks, now without having to belch his lungs out due to the smaller distance between them.

They turn away from him, pointing to the monstrosity of a building he’s more than familiar with, towering over the village and dominating the outskirts. Having been abandoned for years now, the factory has become a home for rats, roaches, bats and Karl Heisenberg. The young man runs the risk of having it all crumble atop him while he sleeps the three hours he’s allowed each night. He’s not usually embarrassed by this fact but he doesn’t proudly announce it either. Sure, some people who pick on him and are determined to make his life a living hell have spread rumors about his place of stay but no one dares go into the factory to fact-check. It’s menacing exterior looking to be straight from a horror movie or a nightmare is more than enough to drive any person away, but the haunting noises the place harbors accompanied by the many creatures that produce said noises just add to the fear factor among the villagers when it comes to the century old structure.

“That.“ The traveler says, looking almost dreamily at the building so many people turn to with disgust and fear. “Would it be trespassing to enter? I really wanna have a look inside.“

Forgetting to mask his confused and surprised expression, Karl is caught with that wide-eyed, mouth-slightly-agape look on his face which sends the traveler in a fit of laughter.

“I know I probably sound crazy saying that, but abandoned places are sort of my thing, you know. I can’t simply pass by one without going in and doing a literal scavenger hunt. Not that I ever find much apart from graffiti and crap all over the place, but it’s worth having a look. Especially inside a place that looks that old. And man is it huge.“ No, his assumption was right the first time - their eyes do indeed get dreamy when they turn to observe the giant structure further down the overgrown path.

Who gives him the right to tell them no?

“Lucky I found you then.“ He says, shedding every last bit of confusion and replacing it with enthusiasm, a wide smile plastered on his face, “Follow me, I know all the entrances.“

He needn’t tell them twice. Hell, he barely had to finish his sentence before they literally took flight as they rushed - as much as they could with the heavy backpack they were carrying - towards the factory, taking his hand to drag him along, never stopping their river of gratitude the whole way there.

It awoke something in him, something warm and genuine that made him want to get to know this sunshine in human form better. He hasn’t had a chance to smile plenty in his life, never having a reason to do so. But during this less than five minute interaction, he hasn’t been able to contain the grin brought upon him as a side effect of their own happiness.

“I’m Karl, by the way!“ He informed them as they stomped their way up the path.

“Nice to meet you, Karl!“ They called back, giving him a brief glance over their shoulder, “My name’s Y/N.“

‘Y/N‘ the name echoed and repeated itself in his head, intensifying that feeling dangerously close to adoration.

“Nice to meet you too, Y/N.“

* * *

Dust and dirt had stuck to their clothes, practically merging with the textile by the time the pair left the factory to see the setting sun once again. The darkness and dinginess of the factory periodically made them forget how beautiful the outside world was. The place was filthy but what Y/N didn’t know is that it had been in a worse state before. Before Karl started staying there.

The young man always had a fascination with mechanical engineering, having met many workers who worked in the factory prior to its closing. They often times snuck him in so he could admire the work process the different types of machinery they had in there - many of which still remained in the factory covered in rust and spiderwebs. That being said, he took it upon himself to clean up a bit, treat the powerful mechanical giants with the respect and decency a machine of their kind deserved. Some he even miraculously repaired - probably the biggest achievement in his life - but he was yet to put them to good use, given that he still didn’t know how to properly operate them and what their true purpose was.

“That was incredible!“ Y/N cheered once the two had stepped onto the grass outside in the field again, “I can’t believe I almost started debating whether to go or not after so many of the villagers tried to scare me.“ They turned to give the factory one more lingering look, “Damn, I wish I could go back in there again to see if we missed anything. Unfortunately, my time’s limited.“ They sigh, checking their wristwatch before sparing the setting sun a look as well. “And it’s almost up.“

The knot that suddenly appeared in Karl’s throat made him choke on the oxygen he had inhaled. The worry of what those words of Y/N’s meant made his stomach turn.

But, before he could ask what they meant, they gave him an apologetic smile, their eyes still shining, but saddened now, “I have to get going. I have a different destination I need to reach by dawn.“ They sighed heavily, looking down at their boots. Karl opened his mouth to say something, but he found himself to be at a loss for words. He felt hollow and empty and couldn’t bring himself to stomach what he had been told. However, Y/N once again beat him to the opportunity of saying something. Their head snapped back up, their eyes meeting his, now glimmering with the glow he had grown to think of as familiar at that point. “However, that doesn’t mean I won’t be back.“ They took him by the wrist and brought his hand up, opening his clenched palm to drop a small chain in it. “Growing up, I was taught to not expect people to return things you give them but to go and take them back yourself. And so, Karl, I’m giving you this necklace and promising I’ll be back to retrieve it.“ They closes his palm again, letting his arm fall by his side. While he still had only processed half of all that happened when they spoke up again, “Ok, so now I ask of you to stay here, not see me off, not follow me, just stand right here. Or you can turn around and walk away too, that’d be even better. Can you do that for me?” They asked, cringing suddenly, “Sorry, I’m bad at goodbyes.“

He faintly nodded, unable to get any words out yet again. That was probably a good thing, cause there was a huge risk that he would’ve asked them to stay if he spoke.

Taking his nod as a positive response, they gave him a quick peck on the cheek before turning around and walking off in the direction they came from earlier, leaving him behind. Karl wanted to force himself to walk in the opposite direction like they had told him to, but he couldn’t tear his eyes off them. He stood there, heart aching, watching them go. All the while squeezing the dog tag necklace tightly in his hand. The physical proof of the person that reminded him how it felt to feel.

The physical proof of the promise that they’d come back.

They’d come back to him.

He’d see them.

And he’d once again think to himself...

There you are, finally, you’re back

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divineinterventiongame · 3 years

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Anubis Drabble

Here’s the first of the follower drabbles featuring Anubis! Thanks again for the support <33 Please let me know what you think!

There’s not much that can beat the city at night. You could do without the shouting and honking below and without the acrid scent of garbage and urine, and the weather has been oppressively hot recently, but now, when the wind is just short of warm and the air is just short of cool? You could fall asleep out here, you’re so relaxed.

… Except for the shouting. And honking. And oh, now there’s a cop directing traffic, how nice. You screw your eyes shut, trying to get back the feeling of serenity you just had, but no. It’s gone. Chased away by the shrill sound of a whistle making traffic worse than it already is.

You sigh, rolling your neck to stretch out kinks that never fully go away anymore. Begin psyching yourself up to stand and go inside, to maybe make some food instead of ordering in.

“Long day?”

Your eyes fly open and you leap out of your chair, spinning so fast that you don’t immediately make out the face of whoever just snuck onto your balcony. “Christ, what the hell.”

“Wrong religion, I’m afraid,” the man smiles as you clutch your chest, standing with far more elegance than you’d ever manage. He’s balancing on the stone ledge between safety and a sixty-foot drop and you have to clench your jaw to keep from shouting at him to get off. “But similar geography.”

“You could have called, Anubis.”

He raises an eyebrow then turns, pointing into your apartment. Directly where your pager is seated neatly on a table.

“Ah.”

“Are you going to invite me in, ya amar? Or am I to stand out here all night?”

“Yeah, of course. Come in.” You stretch your back before grabbing at the sliding door, wincing as you feel your spine pop. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, hasn’t it?”

“Too long.”

There’s something in his voice that makes you want to turn around, but you wrench the door open instead. Step inside to an apartment that now feels far too cold for your liking. “Can I get you anything? Water?”

“I am fine.”

“Not very talkative today, are you?” You rummage around in your fridge, pulling out a bottle of water. Dinner will have to wait. Anubis hums, and you can hear him begin to settle himself on your couch. “No more than usual.”

You roll your eyes at that, more out of affection than anything else, and take a swig of your drink. “I guess I’ll have to do the talking. Again.” You walk over to join him on the couch, sitting so there’s enough space between the two of you to still be… professional. As professional as having a client in your home after hours could be, anyway. You fold your legs under themselves, leaning back into the plush back of the furniture. “What did you do today? Anything fun?”

He looks at you from the corner of his eye, and the golden shadow shimmering around his eyelids makes his irises appear even darker. “You said you would do our talking.”

“So I did,” you say, thinking further into the couch. “But it’s not like I have anything to report, you know. Work was, well. Work. I didn’t get home until like six, but that’s nothing new.”

“Mm.”

“Amaterasu was a pain in the ass today, but that’s also nothing new,” you grumble. That statement is more for your sake than his.

“The other god. From the east.”

“Yeah, from Japan.”

“Are we all so troublesome?”

You wince. “No, it’s not--I shouldn’t have said that, forget it.”

“You are not answering my question.”

“Look,” you run a hand over your head. “None of you are a bother. I shouldn’t have brought it up, it was unprofessional. I just… forgot, for a second. That you’re, you know. A client too.” You got too comfortable, and isn’t that becoming an increasingly common issue.

He frowns slightly before turning away, and you notice he’s added new jewelry to his braids. You wonder, not for the first time, what they’d feel like between your fingers, and chase the thought away guiltily. “... Do I trouble you? By coming here?”

You blink. “What? No, why would you think that?” you ask.

You can see his jaw clenching underneath dark skin. Thinking. “It’s as you say. I am a client.” His hands twitch on the final word, as if he wishes to curl them into fists. “I do not wish to trouble you.”

He’s worried about something like that? You purse your lips then snort. When he turns to face you, clearly confused and offended by the noise you just made, you try and fail to hold back a laugh. “Anubis, I--look. If I didn’t want you to come over, I wouldn’t have given you my address. You’re fine.”

“But-”

“No buts!” You put your hand on top of his, trying not to let your mind linger on how smooth and soft and warm his skin is. When you withdraw, there’s the faintest echo of a tingle on your skin. “I just meant I shouldn’t talk to you about work stuff. It’s not a good idea, and it’s boring as hell anyway.”

Anubis’ eyes flick from your face to his hand, over and over again.

“...Okay?” you ask.

He nods stiffly.

“Cool. Let me order dinner and then I’ll put on a movie.”

Before you can stand, there’s the faintest touch on your arm. A request. Stay. “I am glad to have met you, ya amar. I treasure each moment you grant me.” His eyes bore into yours, the weight of his sincerity making your heart do a funny thing in your chest.

“I, uh.” Say something. “Me too. I mean. Yeah, we’re--” you clear your throat. “Yeah.” The way he smiles up at you, still sincere and not a hint of pity after… whatever your response was just now makes you feel like you’re a child. Or maybe a teenager. “In fact, I like you so much I’ll even show you the greatest movie ever made.”

He blinks. “You have decided on the greatest movie?”

You nod. “Oh yes. There will never be another movie ever made that can even approach this.”

“Ah.” He clicks his tongue. “You’re saying it’s your favorite, then. Not the pinnacle of human creation.”

“They’re the same thing!”

His lips twitch. “Of course. I look forward to it, then.”

#drabbles #anubis #no content warnings on this one; if they ever become relevant i'll put them at the top

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echotrinityme · 3 years

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Foolish Chapter 3: Meeting a Friend

Rupert was walking to the donuts shop to meet up with Dave, they've been planning this meet up for a couple of days now. He was excited because he hadn't seen him since he quit the police force, the last he heard from Dave he said he was doing well.

He went inside and found Dave sitting at one the tables near the window, he smiled and he walked over to him. Dave was reading a book and eating a donut, he glanced up and he smiled at Rupert too.

"Hi, Rupert." said Dave.

"E'llo Dave." replied Rupert, he pulled the chair across from him and sat down.

"So how you've been?"

"Great, you?"

"Good, I got a job as a security guard." beamed Dave.

Dave looked so happy and Rupert loves it when Dave is happy, Rupert wasn't listening to Dave while he was explaining what's going in his life. He was just admiring him and being in his own little fantasy world, however a pair of snapping fingers brought Rupert out his stupor.

"Um...hey Rupert?" said Dave, tentatively.

Rupert shook his head and he blinked, he glanced at Dave who's expression was anxious. he furrowed his brow at him until he realized he wasn't paying to him.

"Oh, sorry Dave. I was distracted, what were you sayin'?"

"I was saying that my job as a security guard has given me a much better time as a police officer."

"Oh...why is that?" asked Rupert, softly.

"I felt like I was useless and not even doing anything good." replied Dave, sadly. He bowed his head down making him appear smaller.

Rupert felt sadness and pity for the man in front of him, he also felt anger and hatred. He always tried to help Dave with his police work like helping him with arrests, checking files, letting him drive, etc. However, that one time Henry Stickmin got arrested for trying to rob a bank changed everything.

He was sitting his cell when he and Dave approached him, he joked that Henry was getting out but he's not. A package arrived for him which boggled their minds why, however Dave didn't check it and that was a mistake...a big mistake. Henry used the items inside the box and escaped, which cost Dave his job.

Rupert was pissed at Henry for that, ever since Dave's firing it was hard. Johnny was his partner after that but he didn't mind it as long as Henry didn't try to steal anything. But fate would have it, he did try to steal again. Fortunately for him and Johnny, they managed to capture him but when they put him in the car things began to...developed.

Henry started to flirt with him, making him red and confused as hell. He said some lewd things making him more red and Johnny was laughing his ass off, it got to the point that Rupert snapped. He made Johnny stopped the car and also made him get out, he got out and Rupert went to the back.

Things quickly became heated after he got in the back, he wanted to shout at him but suddenly a pair hand cuffed hands wrapped around his neck and felt a pair of lips on his own lips. At first, he wanted to pulled away but for some reason he didn't.

The kiss became more heated, their tongues battled for dominance and Rupert felt his pants become tight. He pushed Henry down to lie down on his back, they kept on kissing and without thinking he started taking off Henry's pants and underwear. He unbutton his pants and used his spit as lube.

Everything blurred after that for Rupert, he didn't know why he was fucking Henry but he didn't care. Using Henry like this...made him feel powerful for some reason, but with Dave it's not. Rupert has always cared for him ever since his first day at work, he loved his awkwardness and his ability to care for people even when they don't deserved it.

"Hey Dave, yer not useless." assured Rupert, softly. He put a hand on him and Dave looked up at him with shimmering eyes.

He continued, "You have been so helpful to me."

"You supported me, helped me with my anger issues, getting some arrests, etc."

Dave sniffled and he wiped his tears with his sleeve, he smiled sheepishly and he blushed.

"Thank you." said Dave.

"You're welcome." replied Rupert.

They both stared at each other for a moment and Rupert thought it was a perfect time to confess to him, but how's is he going to do it? He thought for a moment, he knew didn't have time for a big romantic gesture. Even though Dave deserved that, he decided to just do the whole cliche' thing.

"Hey..um...Dave?" stuttered Rupert.

"Yeah?" asked Dave, anxiously.

"I have something to tell you."

"What is it?"

Before he can confess, a phone disturbed their intimate moment. It was Dave's phone, he answered it and Rupert waited patiently for him to finish. Dave was grinning and he laughed at the voice on the end, a couple of minutes he hung up on and glanced at Rupert.

"Who was that?" questioned Rupert, he was curious on whom Dave was talking too.

"Jacob Rose." said Dave, happily. His face became more red which made Rupert feel uneasy.

"Jacob Rose? Isn't he Ellie's brother?"

"Yes, he's a new recruit and I'm helping him with training."

Rupert was impressed, he's helping someone that needs help so why does Dave think he's useless?

"Oh, is he a new friend or an acquaintance?"asked Rupert, for some reason he got the feeling of dread.

"I'm seeing him." said Dave, sheepishly.

Rupert froze at the answer Dave gave him, did he hear him right? Seeing him? He felt like the world stopped, his heart beat fast as if he was running on adrenaline. Dave was trying to get his attention but his voice sounded as if Rupert was underwater, he was drowning in denial and sadness.

"Um...Rupert...hello?" said Dave, tentatively. He was lightly shaking him to get his attention but no response. "Please say something, Rupert."

Rupert finally glanced at him, his eyes wide and blank. He didn't feel himself tremble, Dave tried to get his attention but still no response.

"What?" muttered Rupert, solemnly.

Dave stopped for a moment but before he can say anything, Rupert quickly got up from his seat and ran out the shop making the workers and the patrons including Dave confused at his hasty retreat.

Rupert kept running, he didn't know where he was running to but he didn't care. After a few moments later, he stopped running. He waited to catch his breath and he glanced around to check his surroundings, he was miles away from the base but not too far.

Rupert was having a breakdown, he was breathing heavily, he was trembling with rage and sadness, and he clenched his fists tightly. Without thinking, he roared in anger and punched a random tree. He punched it so hard, it cracked a little and his knuckles were bleeding.

He felt warm liquid sliding down his face and he held his injured hand with his other hand, he finally started to sob loudly. Sure he had gotten rejected a bunch of times but why doesn't hurt so much? He hated feeling this way, feeling hurt and betrayed by the one person he thought wouldn't hurt him. It's not like Dave did this on purpose, it was one sided love on his part.

His sobbing ceased and he sighed heavily, he quickly wiped his face before he went to the base. He didn't want no one to know he was crying, he did not want pity or a condolence that he got rejected. He started to walk slowly back to the base, his emotional pain hurt more than his physical one.

Love hurts.

#Henry Stickmin #henry stickmim collection #rupert price #henry stickmin x rupert price #dave panpa #jacob rose #stickprice

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sparkkeyper · 4 years

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Whumptober Day 14: Heat Exhaustion

Yeah I'm basically finishing WIPs and then trying to find a prompt that fits them, haha. The time period on this one is vague, but probably somewhere pre-Great Flood.

***

It wasn't the first time the demon Crawly had been discorporated.

It wasn't even the worst, all things considered. It had been quick, at least, and he'd even brought a few of his murderers with him when he ended up Below. The paperwork was almost worth it to see the looks on their faces when they realized where they were.

But finally, after ages of red tape and very pointed threats from his superiors, he'd been issued a new corporation and had made his way topside again.

The entrances to Hell were ever-shifting these days in an attempt to keep up with the movement of the humans who had multiplied into the tens of thousands and spread out across multiple continents. The defiled ground Crawly crawled out of was over two dozen miles from the town of his next temptation assignment, so he brushed the dirt off his clothes and began the long walk.

And was it ever a long walk.

It was the height of summer and the weather was determined to live up to expectations. The sun beat down mercilessly against the black fabric of Crawly's robe and he pulled his hood lower against it.

It took him two hours to find the trade road, by which time the sun was already high in the mid-morning sky and he was thoroughly irritated. Something felt off but he couldn't put his finger on it. He cursed the arid climate, he cursed the empty open space between settlements, he cursed the scrawny trees that weren't even tall enough to shade the road, he cursed the weather and the seasons and the sun itself. It didn't make him feel any better, of course, and he cursed that fact too.

He trudged on. The journey was monotonous, as long journeys often were. There were little in the way of landmarks and it felt like he was looking at the same trees and shrubs over and over again. In fact they seemed to shimmer, almost double up.

Crawly rubbed his eyes. The heat was getting to him, making him lightheaded and miserable. Well at least he wasn't soaked in sweat-

Oh.

Oh no.

It finally clicked what was wrong. He wasn't sweating. At all.

A quick check confirmed that everywhere that should be sweaty and disgusting by now - armpits, scalp, back, crotch, etc - was completely bone dry. "Sssshit," he muttered, a hiss slipping through. Closing his eyes, he ran something close to a diagnostic on the human systems inside him. He could control some of them to a degree - breathing and heartbeat, for example, he didn't technically need but the processes were built automatic into the corporation and it took more effort to override them than he usually cared to spend - but others were out of his hands.

He could feel nothing from the systems in charge of temperature regulation. "Sssshit!" The corporation was defective. Crawly cursed a blue streak at Downstairs' incompetence. He'd be lucky if he made it anywhere near his assigned town in this state, much less through an entire temptation. Would it kill Hell to at least give him a waterskin when they sent him back up? Hydration wouldn't do much with a corporation in this condition but it would be something.

First things first, he needed to get out of the sun. There was precious little escape from it out here, but if he could make it far enough down the road, hopefully he could find an inn or a caravan or even a cave he could use for shelter.

Crawly stepped up his pace.

***

He'd lost track of time by now. All the landscape looked the same. It felt like he'd been walking for ages but he couldn't tell if he'd gone one mile or ten. Every time he tried to remember the geography of this region, his thoughts struggled to focus on anything.

The sun blazed down on him. He'd shed every layer but the basic tunic and hood in an effort not to trap more heat, but it was already a lost cause. He could feel the mounting flush under his skin as the heat throbbed with nowhere to go. He blew across his forearms as much as he could reach but it brought him no relief. His breath was coming fast and shallow, his heartbeat quick and erratic in his chest...

The path spun alarmingly and Crawly stumbled, losing his balance as the world dipped to the side. He staggered into the paltry shade of a young tree and sank to the ground. A rest. He needed...

The last thing he needed was to discorporate so soon after being issued a new body. Dagon would be furious. There would be a fine. It wouldn't matter if the corporation was put together wrong, it would still be considered his fault for losing it. And Hell's fines were paid in a combination of time and how much blood or screaming they could ring from you...

If he could survive until sundown, the evening would be cool enough to let him make it back to the desecrated pit that served as the nearest entrance Downstairs. Then he could raise absolute Heaven with the demon in charge of issuing corporations and get a new one without such serious defects. He tried to distract himself from the throbbing heat by fantasizing about just what he would say to the corporation department clerk, just what scathing threats he would make...

***

He wasn't aware he'd slumped to the ground until sometime later. Crawly tried to push himself back up but his arms were heavy, refusing to cooperate. He tried the legs. Not much better.

Oh, not good. Not good.

The shade had shifted, leaving him in direct sunlight once more, and he couldn't move well enough to crawl back to it. He tried, of course, in a pitiful attempt that only ground dirt under his nails and that he thanked Satan nobody else actually saw.

There was no way he was making it until sundown.

Crawly swore under his breath, and it came out weaker than he expected. Nothing for it, then. He'd just have to wait until the heat took him and pay whatever fine Downstairs decided to levy...

***

Crawly drifted in and out as he lay in the blaze. His head pounded and he felt odd, untethered, even as his cheek pressed into the rocks below him. A little like being hung over, but without any of the fun memories of being drunk...

Every muscle ached, and the flush pulsed within him, trapped. He suspected he was beginning to cook from the inside out...

A vague shape blotted out the sun. "Crawly? My goodness, is that you?"

Crawly tried for a laugh but it strangled before it could get past his lungs. His chest heaved with shallow, labored breaths. Of course that angel would find him now, of all times, when he was helpless. He wondered dizzily whether discorporation by angel smiting would look better or worse on his performance review than discorporation from heat stroke.

"Whatever happened here?" A hand placed itself over his dry forehead.

"Corporation'sss defective," he rasped. "Won't sssweat. Won't ssshiver. No thh...ther...thhhermoregulation at all really..."

His corporation shifted. It took an inordinate amount of time to realize he was being picked up, and he had no strength to resist. The cloudless blue of the sky filled his vision, broken only by the occasional glare of the burning sun as his head lolled.

Shouldn't be that unexpected, his thoughts swam. Probably moving the demon off the road. Or finding a better smiting place. Or finding a place to...to...

To what, he wasn't sure. Slippery thoughts slid right off of anything they might have grabbed onto and lost themselves in the endless blue of the sky. The rhythmic swaying of the steps beneath him was unmooring.

Like spinning a satchel only to let it go, flinging it off into the distance, into the sky, out of sight, out of...

Out of...of...

***

Crawly came back to himself slowly.

Something was rocking him, something gentle but insistent. It was soft and rhythmic and...

And cool.

Water.

He worked his eyes open to find himself submerged up to his chest in the shallows of a river, his back against a rock. Water plastered his hair to his face as though someone had poured it over his head. Satan below, he had never been more grateful to wake up soaking wet.

Crawly let out a quiet groan and sank down until the river lapped at his neck, feeling the inferno slowly leech from him. The relief was incredible. Cool water slid over the arteries in his throat, wrists, thighs, chest, allowing the heat trapped in his bloodstream to seep out into the river and away.

"Better?" came the soft voice from beside him. Odd that the angel was still here, but not wholly surprising.

"Mmmm." His tongue felt thick in his mouth. "Much."

"Call it a favour, then. Now you owe me one."

Crawly cracked an eye at Aziraphale, and at the white robe that didn't seem to be wet despite hanging in the river. "Ssssuppose I do."

"Is your destination very far?"

The demon shifted, testing his muscles. There was still damage to the corporation but now that he wasn't actively cooking, he could feel it starting to repair itself. Slowly. Very slowly. "Think I'll just sssstay here until sundown, actually."

"Oh good. That way I'll know where you are, and that you aren't causing trouble. I'm afraid you've been thwarted rather soundly for today."

Crawly closed his eyes and let himself relax against the rock. "So I have. Best let me wallow in my defeat, angel. Figure I can get a good several hours of wallowing in before night falls and I head back to get this defect fixed. When do you expect to call in your favour?"

A hand touched his shoulder just briefly, then the water rippled as Aziraphale rose and made his way back to the road. "Oh, no rush. I'm sure you'll pay it back in time."

And despite himself, despite the day he'd had, Crawly smiled.

#good omens #whumptober2020 #My writing #crowley #Crawly #Give your snek both heat AND coolness so he can thermoregulate #Also may have inspired that drawing I did of Mesopotamia Crowley with his foot in the river last year >.>

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fvckyouimaprophet · 4 years

Text

in an unsurprising turn of events, i’m late joining in on the first day of @swottypotter‘s 10 days of healing mini-fest, but here’s my submission for day one: anniversary.

four times remus remembers anniversaries, and the one time sirius beats him to it.

I: “It Was a Dare” (1977)

Sirius hunches his shoulders forward. “Fuck. It’s cold.”

“You’re the one who insisted that you didn’t need to bring a cloak.” Remus sits comfortably in his and wraps the fabric tighter around his shoulders. “Need to go down?” He hands Sirius the joint, and the glimmer in his eyes says what he won’t—I told you so.

“Sod off.” Sirius snatches it from Remus’s fingers and puts it to his lips. The tip burns bright orange, stark against the gray stone of the Astronomy Tower, and when he pulls back, Sirius lets the smoke waft out slowly and circle his head.

“Don’t you think you look cool?” Remus laughs and leans in for a kiss. Their lips meet, slightly parted, and Sirius flicks his tongue over Remus’s lower one and breathes out slowly. He watches, transfixed, as Remus’s eyes flutter shut, his face half-lit.

His scars shimmer, nearly iridescent in the moonlight, and before he can stop himself, Sirius reaches up and runs the pad of his thumb gently across one. He starts just under Remus’s right eye and crosses the bridge of his nose. When his finger settles on his left cheek, Remus pulls back. He breathes out a faint stream of smoke—passed between them—and flushes.

"You look beautiful,” Sirius says. The high cradles him, and he teeters forward and presses a kiss to Remus’s forehead.

“Lightweight,” Remus teases, and he takes the joint back and lights it. Remus has never been able to sit with a compliment, so it comes as no surprise when he changes topics. “It’s our anniversary, you know.”

“Remus, we started dating eight months ago,” Sirius says. “I know you’re high, but surely you haven’t forgotten that.”

“Not that.” Remus rolls his eyes and a small bit of smoke comes out from his nostrils. “Our first kiss.”

“The first time we kissed was last year at Hogsmeade. James and Lily were on a date, and Peter had fucked off with Mary, and you said we should go to the Shrieking Shack, and—”

Remus cuts him off. “Nope, the first time we kissed was third year.”

Sirius scrunches his face up, ready to protest when it hits him. “It was a dare! That doesn’t count.”

“I could tell that you liked me.” Remus smirks and stubs out the joint. “You couldn’t look me in the eyes for two days after that.”

Sirius huffs and does his best to meet Remus’s look with a glare of his own, but he isn’t able to last long before he falters and nudges Remus lightly with his knee. “Fine. Maybe you’re right.” When he laughs, he sees his breath, and he shivers. “Now, can we finally go back?”

Remus chuckles and stands up.

II: “Technically, It Was Just Before Midnight” (1978)

"Well, I’m headed to bed. You two lovebirds behave,” James says, waggling his eyebrows at them.

They wish James good night, and when he disappears up the staircase, Remus turns and gives Sirius a sharp look. “You told him about last month, didn’t you?”

“I had to tell someone. I can hardly look at the Common Room the same way. You on this couch, begging—”

“I was there. We don’t need to relive it.” Remus doesn’t meet his eyes, but from the red tinge on the tops of his ears, Sirius is certain that despite his words Remus is thinking about it. After a moment, he rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat. “I’m surprised everyone’s gone to bed so early,” Remus says, glancing around the empty Common Room.

It’s not his best attempt at changing the subject, but Sirius lets him have it, knowing that the moment they disappear upstairs into the dormitory it won’t matter. “Yeah, it’s a bit unusual.”

Sirius dips a hand under Remus’s jumper and runs his fingers across Remus’s stomach. Remus lets out a breathy whine, and his head falls back against the pillows. He arches just barely into Sirius’s touch, and Sirius smiles, indulging as he traces his gaze up Remus’s legs to his torso where his skin is barely visibly just above the waistband of his trousers and to his neck, seemingly longer than usual as he tilts his head back.

Sirius leans forward and when he kisses the skin just at his pulse point, Remus reaches out, fingers curling around Sirius’s robes.

Before Sirius can think of what to do next, the portrait swings open, and he pulls back and composes himself just as two fourth year girls come into sight. His heart pounds against his chest, and when they disappear with hardly a glance thrown their way, Remus and Sirius double over laughing, and Sirius can’t shake the electric feeling that they’ve gotten away with something again.

“We should stop before we get in trouble,” Remus says, and he reaches into his robes. “Besides, I wanted to give you your anniversary present anyway.”

“You’re a day early.”

“Technically, it was just before midnight that you asked me out." Remus reaches into his pocket.

“Technically—“ Sirius scowls. “You’re insufferable.”

“Then, I suppose you don’t want your present.” The grin on Remus’s face lets Sirius know that he’s proud of whatever he’s hiding, and he hesitates.

“I just want to say that you’re taking advantage of my hatred of mysteries,” Sirius says and sticks out a hand.

“I know.” Remus gives him a victorious look before pulling out two rectangular pieces of paper and setting them in Sirius’s hand.

He barely reads the words before he jumps up. “Fucking hell.” Sirius glances over at Remus and back down at the tickets in his hands. “Are these real? Am I really gonna see Bowie?” He lets out a whoop when Remus nods.

“You’re going wake people up,” Remus says, but Sirius can tell that he’s too excited to care. He stands up and wraps his fingers around Sirius’s hip, pulling him closer.

Despite himself, Sirius pouts, thinking of his present to Remus, locked in his trunk. “You know, it’s not fair. I put a lot of thought into what I got you, but now it’s gonna look like shite next to this.”

Remus rolls his eyes. “I’m sure I’ll love it. Now kiss me, you idiot.”

III: “Warmer” (1979)

Sirius wakes up to the smell of coffee and the feel of something heavy against his stomach. He blinks, his sight temporarily bleary as he adjusts to the light of day, and a full tray of food comes into sight.

Steam rises over the waffles and bacon, and narrows his eyes as he glances over at Remus. “What is this for?”

Remus glances upward at the ceiling and folds his hands in front of him. “Can’t I just be cooking my boyfriend breakfast to let him know that I care about him?”

Sirius raises an eyebrow and pulls himself up until he’s sitting, careful not to spill any of the coffee. He takes a sip before answering and hardly bites back a satisfied sigh. “Well, I know it's not the anniversary of the first time I told you that I loved you because you already sprung that one on me last year,” he says.

“You don’t have to be bitter just because I have a better memory than you. Now try the waffles while they’re still hot.”

Sirius grumbles and cuts it, glancing at Remus all the while. “It’s not that I have a bad memory. You just have a freakishly good one.” He takes a bite and softens. “You’re such a good cook.”

“It probably has something to do with not growing up around a bunch of rich snobs who left the cooking to their House Elves,” Remus teases.

“Can’t argue with that.” Sirius takes another bite and does his best to think. “Are you going to make me guess?” Remus smirks. “I don’t know. First time I copied your homework.”

The smirk disappears, and Remus rolls his eyes. “You have to be a smart-ass about everything. No, this is actually meaningful.”

“First time hanging out—just the two of us—without James or Peter.”

“Warmer.” Sirius sets it down the utensils and does his best to rack his brain. Seeing his effort, Remus relents, taking pity on him. “The first time all of you came with me to the Shrieking Shack.” Remus sits on the edge of the bed and looks down at the floor. “I remember feeling so touched. I couldn’t fathom the idea that anyone would make that much effort to help something as monstrous as me.”

“Remus—” Sirius reaches out and places a hand gently on Remus’s arm.

“I know what you’re going to say. I’m not monstrous. For a while, even after that, I didn’t believe that you really saw me that way.” He turns and looks at Sirius, his lips quirked up in the slightest of smiles. “Who would’ve guessed that Sirius Black is actually a softie beneath it all?”

Sirius sets the tray of food on the nightstand and tugs Remus down on top of him. “I believe you’ve been sworn to secrecy about that,” he says. He nips at Remus’s lower lip before soothing it with his tongue.

“Syrupy.” Remus chuckles into the kiss, and Sirius hooks a finger into a belt loop of Remus’s trousers. He kisses his way up Remus’s jaw until he finds the spot just behind his ear that makes him melt.

“On a scale of one to ten, how mad would you be if I didn’t eat breakfast until after I’d fucked you?” he asks.

Remus glances over at the tray of food and then back at Sirius. “Four.” Sirius cups Remus and drops his lips to the spot where Remus’s neck meets his shoulder and sucks hard enough that Remus breathes in sharply through his nose. “Oh, just fuck me, but you better not expect breakfast from me anytime soon.”

Sirius grins. “I can work with that.”

IV: “It Makes Me Feel Like a Terrible Person” (1980)

Sirius leans over the balcony, staring vacantly down six stories to the people passing by on the street.

He doesn’t remember the last time he’s smoked back-to-back like this. He ashes his cigarette in the tray and lifts it back up to his lips, closing his eyes and trying to push out the buzzing in his head by repeating the words in his head. Breathe in. Breathe out. He only gets to a six-count before he coughs, his throat raw.

When he reaches for the glass behind him, he misses and hears the sound of shattering glass instead. "Fuck.” Sirius pulls out his wand. “Reparo.” He watches the shards come together. He picks it up, staring at the smooth glass, and a surge of anger passes over him at the thought that there are no cracks, no signs of what just happened.

Sirius opens his hand and watches glasses fall again. This time, when it shatters, a shard flies up and hits his leg. He stares at a moment, watching as the blood wells up, beading before dripping down.

The glass door to the balcony slides open. “I heard something breaking. Are you—” Remus’s eyes fall to the cut on Sirius’s leg, and he pulls out his wand, casting a few quick spells to close the cut, mend the glass, and clean the mess.

“I could have done that myself,” Sirius says. It comes out gruffer than he intends to, but Remus doesn’t flinch.

“You’re thinking about Regulus, aren’t you?” Remus asks. “It’s been a year since you found out that he—” Remus doesn’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t have to.

Sirius nods and glances away, hating the way his chest tightens. “I hate him,” he says. He looks down at his cigarette, ash nearly down to the filter, and crushes it against the ashtray.

“I know.” If Remus has more to say, he bites his tongue. Instead, he stands behind Sirius and wraps his arms around his waist. His chin falls to Sirius’s shoulder. His hair tickles Sirius’s neck, and when Sirius breathes in, the scent is warm and familiar.

It’s enough to set him off, starting in the pit of his stomach and spreading until his body feels numb. He trembles and sinks against Remus as he lets down a deep, raspy breath. The tension leaves his body as he sobs, and he truly feels the weight of it.

"How many people died because of what he stood for?” he spits out. “I think about him, and then I get sad, and it makes me feel like a terrible person for even caring.”

Sirius braces himself—ready to fight—waiting for Remus to coddle him and tell him that he’s not or that the fact that he cares shows a goodness within him. But Remus doesn’t. He turns Sirius around and presses a kiss to the corner of his lips, and when he looks at Sirius, his gaze holds all the words he can’t find.

Sirius swallows thickly and lets Remus lead them both inside.

V: “It Doesn’t Work Like That” (1981)

"Harry seems happy,” Remus says as he hangs up his coat. "He’s quite a natural on that broom already.”

Sirius laughs. “I’m calling it now. Give it twelve years, and he’ll be winning Gryffindor the Quidditch Cup.”

“You don’t know he’ll be a Gryffindor.” Remus ignores Sirius’s scoff as he heads to the kitchen. “I’m going to put the kettle on. Want some tea?”

“I think I’m alright for now—thanks.”

He watches as Remus moves around their apartment, lost in thought. He knows Remus’s system by now—grab the milk out of the fridge, set the water to boil, pull the mugs from the cupboard, spoon out the sugar into them before adding the water, dip the teabag three times before winding the string around the handle, and finish it off with a splash of milk.

It’s the smallest of routines, but watching it, he feels heart swell in his chest. His hand falls to his robe pockets. “Remus, did you know today’s our anniversary?” he asks.

Although his back faces Sirius, Sirius can see as Remus’s brow furrows and he runs through any possible moments he might have missed. “What of?”

“When I asked you to marry me.” Sirius fishes the box out from his pocket. Before he can decide whether or not to go on one knee, Remus turns around.

“You haven’t asked me to— Oh.” He stares at the box, gasping when Sirius undoes the latch and the silver band comes into view.

“I wanted to have a big fancy speech prepared, but I’d probably bugger it up just trying to remember it all. And I know today’s just some ordinary day, and you haven’t even finished making your tea, but with the war and all, you never know when it’s all going to go to shite, and if I died without asking you to marry me, I’d probably come back as a ghost just to beat myself up over it. So, will you? Will you marry me?”

Remus nods frantically, and it takes Sirius a moment to realizes that there are tears welling up in his eyes. “Of course I will.”

Sirius fumbles as he reaches for the ring and nearly drops it before sliding it on Remus’s finger. Between sniffles, Remus laughs, and they step forward and kiss—wet and messy and desperate. His hand falls to the back of Remus’s neck, and he runs his fingers up into Remus’s hair and tightens his fingers.

The world drops as they kiss until nothing exists beyond this moment. And when they pull back, Sirius’s head spins, and his shoulders shake as catches his breath.

They stand, neither willing to let go of the other. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“What doesn’t?” Sirius asks, and he traces the back of his fingers along Remus’s jaw.

“Anniversaries. It's called an anniversary for a reason. Ann—”

“Means year in Latin. I know. But you always beat me to them. Just for once, I wanted to surprise you.”

For a second, Remus looks as if he’s going to insist, but any fight quickly disappears, and he folds. “Fine, but it’s not fair. How am I supposed to top this?”

Sirius smiles. “Somehow, I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

#wolfstar #10daysofhealing #wolfstarcomfortminifest #hp #my wolfstar #my fics #i meant to write 500 words but it's actually 2700 words whoops

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cottoncandy-jester · 3 years

Text

✨Lie down darling, it's Time for a dream..✨

Love kills(karasuno team x male reader)

Reader is a male

Sorry it's crappy-

This was supposed to bey very first story like I finished it and all but after rereading it I deemed it trash and let it sit here

Figured I should post it even if it's awful

Not sure if there will be a part two maybe if a lot of peeps like it I'll do it

This story contains: very light yandere behavior like a sprinkle, sick reader, poly relationship

You always loved volleyball, your family used to play with you when you were younger. so when your family moved and you had to go to karasuno high your first objective was to join the volleyball team. That's how you got into the predicament you're in now, a member of the team as the second libero. You actually enjoyed your time there but each day was hell for one reason, you were sick

It was as if your body was just too weak to do anything intense especially volleyball, everytime your heart raced awful things would happen. You kept this a secret for a while now even begging coach ukai to let you stay on the team which he for some reason allowed, the others thankfully didn't know thanks to you being secretive though they did notice how you would leave practice early and how you got tired quick.

They had to find out one day and today was that day. You sat on the bus next to a sleeping tanaka who used your shoulder as a pillow. Him and noshinoya bickered over who sat next to you and it seems nishinoya lost that battle so tanaka now used you as a pillow while the libero watched with fuming anger.

You were unaware of the feelings the team felt for you but there was apparently a system when it came to you, a turn based system with rules but of course you didn't know any of this. You glanced at tanaka before a small chuckle escaped your lips, this cause every awake team member to stop what they were doing and turn to look at you. Some had looks of jealously while others shared looks of pure love in their eyes.

you were their good luck charm, their shining star. It started with coach Ukai realizing just how clumsy some of the boys got around you when you spoke to someone else not only that but more fights seemed to spiral around you or about you. After some simple thinking he came up with the answer to his question, so after a long and stress relieving smoke break he forced the team to figure out a solution or no one was playing so of course they quickly figured out what to do, daichi set up a system and suggested to sharing which everyone agreed with fear of losing you and volleyball.

"oi [Y/n], you have fun staring at me ya creep?"

You snapped out of your daydream only to see Tanaka awake and grinning at you, you noticed how close your faces were so you quickly pulled back with a flustered expression.

"h..huh?! I wasn't staring!" You snapped back only to hear the male's loud laughing before a string of teasing came. When tanaka teased it always made you flustered, the male wrapped an arm around your neck before yanking you close and making a goofy kissy face to you.

"whaaat you were totally staring! What did ya wanna kiss me?! Pfft come onnn you can kiss me! Kissy kissy!" His cooing and leaning in made you internally scream as your heart started to beat faster which in turn made it hurt so you gritted your teeth in pain.

Thankfully sugawara came to your rescue by pulling you out your seat and close to his side. He gave tanaka a light glare before turning to you and smiling, It was only now that you realized the bus had stopped and the door opened.

"dont bully him tanaka, you know [Y/n] gets all red! He's already a blushing mess cause of you" sugawara said in a scolding tone but it only made you to cover your face with your hands as you groaned, they were both demons, handsome demons.

After daichi demanded the [y/n] bullying stops you all get off the bus only to walk towards the nekoma court. You were actually nervous since this was your first time practicing with another team. You walked into the gym and jumped when some weird looking black haired male walked towards you. Out of habit you looked for somewhere to hide so you used asahi as a meat shield, the poor guy turned into a mess when he felt your hands gripping the back of his shirt while hiding behind him

"w-w-w-what are ya doing!?" The tall male yelped out in which you pointed towards the odd rooster looking male like a small child. Asahi gulped as he tried to not freak out at the feeling of being so close to you, you choose him to hide behind! This made him more confident and he even puffed his chest out a little with pride.

"oh that's kuroo, he's Nekoma captain and very harmless I promise" asahi's warm tone made you nervously smile before you walked out from behind him now standing by his side. This led to glares to asahi from other members especially tsukishima since it seems like you avoid the male like he was some weird monster.

"whose this? Didnt know you guys babysit, you lost there baby bird?" kuroo's sly cooing made anger and embarrassment bubble in you but before you can respond hinata took that chance to. He quickly stole you from asahi before putting his hands around your waist and showing you off like some shiny toy

"this is [Y/N]! He's the best! He can save like any ball! Like no ball touches the ground when he's around! We are gonna kick your butts thanks to him!" Hinata's shimmering praise made you blush as you kept your head down but you felt a hand petting your head so you looked up only to see kageyama at your other side.

"yeah..what the shrimp said. We are gonna win thanks to our mascot, right bunny?" you couldn't help but glare at kageyama who simply shot you a grin. You were given the nickname cause you seem to be shy and quick to scamper off like one, plus it was agreed upon by the others.

After everyone came in and greeted each other the match was starting to get ready. You were already so nervous but you let out a shaky breath as you stood near the back while trying not to freak out. You knew something felt wrong but coach Ukai said that this match was important to test your progress so you definitely weren't gonna miss it, you were way too stubborn to give up a match until it was over so there was no way you were missing this just cause of small chest pain.

"KICK SOME ASS [Y/N]!"

You looked to the sidelines only to see a pumped up nishinoya. He always loved seeing you play and didn't mind if he had to sit out so you can have your spotlight cause in his eyes you deserve it.

You have back a nervous thumbs up before hearing the match start. Your eyes were focused on the match as you got serious and far less nervous. You watched as hinata did one of his spikes only for it to bounce back. You gasped before running to save the ball, you slid onto the floor and bounced the ball back up before a sharp pain hit you. You held back a growl of pain before getting up and smiling as the ball bounced around from person to person

Your chest felt heavy though and you could feel your hearing going fuzzy. You looked around and shook your head, focus!

You saw an opening and gave a grin as you watched hinata slam the ball through. You laughed as you watched him get excited "nice one hinata!" You cheer out before hearing tsukishima mumbled out a snarky remark.

"only complimenting him? Kinda selfish eh?" This confused you but you figured he just wanted attention so you went and patted tsukishima on the back before giving a grin to him

"hey don't be grump we got that point together!" Your grin only made the male turn his head away and give a light scowl before shoving you back a little.

"I don't need your dumb pity words" you expected this from him but it still hurt both emotionally and physically since he just had to push you from the center of your chest. You felt something hit the back of your throat and you covered your mouth with your hand, you felt a hand on your shoulder and looked at daichi who gave you a worried look

"you need to use the bathroom? We can call a timeout"

his worried tone made you rapidly shake your head before simply rubbing your hands against your shorts

"no, let's keep going I'm just a little dizzy from all the running"

it wasn't like you weren't telling the truth it's just you didn't spill the whole truth.

You knew he wanted to press you more about it but probably after the game. As the game kept going you were running trying to indeed save every ball you could just like hinata bragged, you could say this was your speciality but everyone has their limits.

The match was in its last set and you all needed just one point to win so while everyone was tired they weren't breathing as heavily as you.

You let out a shaky breath as your eyes focused on the ball but everything was going fuzzy, your eyes were dull and glazed over not to mention your body felt like it was just gonna drop.

The ball was coming! You had to save it! They were counting on you! They needed you! In that moment you didn't care about your weak body or hurting yourself all that mattered was the team and the ball. You sucked in a sharp breath before running and saving the ball only to once again feel an overwhelming pain, but you did it.

You wheezed as you sat there on your hands and knees with your head down facing the ground. As you forced yourself up you were shaking so badly, the others were so focused that they didn't quite see the state you were in.

You covered your mouth to cough only to feel something come up, your winced before looking at your hand and the crimson red stained your palm as well as drip down your chin. That's it, you were done you couldn't push yourself any further.

You kept coughing harshly which gained the attention of every person in the room. As you dropped to one knee you could hear voices calling your name, but it felt all fuzzy now as you slowly fainted and the world faded to black.

#haikyuu imagines #yandere haikyuu imagines #haikyu x reader

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captainsassmanes · 4 years

Text

It’s the Little Things

“Here, drink this.”

Michael stared at the cup, squinting in his sad attempt to push through his hangover and see the world through clearer eyes.

“What’s that?”

Kyle raised his eyebrows, annoyance pinching the features of his face. “Poison.”

Michael offered a fake smile and took the cup, grimacing initially at its heat, then enjoying the warmth as it worked its way down his throat and into his gut.

He sat up, stretching his back and blinking the tired from his eyes when he paused, cup halfway to his lips again.

“How’d you know how I like my coffee?”

Kyle tapped the side of his head, conspiratorial smirk in place. When Michael’s face showed exactly how funny he thought Kyle was, he sighed and turned back to his work.

“How do you think, genius?”

******

Michael had gotten absolutely obliterated.

His head was pounding, the sound of his own breathing causing him to groan in agony. Rolling onto his back, he stared at the ceiling of his air stream, trying to piece together what may have happened the night before.

He was definitely at the Pony. He’d definitely bumped into Long again. Then something else...it was all fuzzy. It must have been bad if Maria hauled his ass out instead of letting him stay the night.

After a bottle of acetone and a few more fruitless tries at the game of memory, Michael practically fell out of his too small bed. He opened the door and squinted at the sun piercing his eyes, sending a dagger of pain through his skull.

Surprisingly, his truck sat outside and he felt a pit of dread thinking he may have driven home while he was black out drunk. But as he moved closer, he saw his jacket folded neatly on the hood, a yellow piece of paper sticking out of the pocket.

Feel better.

*****

The next time Michael woke up from a binge, it was on a hard bench in an all too familiar cell.

“Ah, he lives.”

Deputy Valenti swaggered to the cell door with a sad smile on her face. “You alright, cowboy?”

Michael threw his arm over his eyes, the sun coming in through the small window at the perfect angle to blind him.

“Been better. Been worse.”

He heard her clear her throat, presumably to get his attention. Peeking out from the safety of his own body, he met her gaze, a mix of frustration and pity.

“Guerin, I dunno what’s going on but you’ve gotta get it together.” He scoffed but she wouldn’t let up. “I’m serious. Michael, the men you fought with last night? About five of them, half of them twice your size. You’re gonna get yourself killed.”

His heart pounded as he felt her affection for him. The sudden longing for his own mother, for someone to love him unconditionally and hold him close while he collapsed, was overwhelming. He didn’t trust his own voice so he just nodded, resting his head back on the wood.

After a few minutes of silence, Michael asked, “so how long am I in the tank this time, Valenti?”

She’d moved quietly to her desk at this point, diving into the endless pile of paperwork. “Whenever you’re sober enough to safely get yourself home.”

Groaning, Michael pushed himself up to sit, resting his back against the cool wall. “I don’t owe you anything?”

She shook her head, eyes dancing across her work. “Already taken care of.”

“Who?”

She looked up, pulling her glasses off her face. “An anonymous donor. Are you feeling better yet? I’m tired of you, Guerin.”

******

Somehow he completely zoned out.

He’d been working through some of Liz’s notes, trying to find what they were missing. But he’d been off all day, getting lost in thoughts of his family, daydreams of his home planet, missing Maria, throwing some shit around when he thought of Max. And then there was always...

A knock at the door startled him from his reverie. He lifted the blinds to see who would have the balls to visit without warning but found a kid standing in the sand with a big bag and a hesitant look on his face.

Michael pushed the door open with a gruff, “what?”

The poor kid looked like he might tip over. He cleared his throat and squeaked out, “delivery for Michael Guerin.”

Michael looked around the yard, trying to see if someone was messing with him. “I didn’t order anything, kid.”

“Uh, well, it’s all paid for, sir. You just have to sign here.”

Michael’s eyebrows moved closer together in confusion. “What do you mean already paid for?”

“I mean someone already paid for the meal and told me where to deliver it?”

“Who?”

The kid shrugged and again held out the delivery receipt for Michael to sign but he shook his head and mumbled, “nah, I don’t want it. You have it. Since it’s already paid for.”

“Um, are you sure?” The kid lifted the corner of the bag to look in. “It’s a 22 ounce steak with pasta and potatoes. From that fancy place.”

Michael’s hand reached out to steady himself against the door frame. That was the place he’d saved up for weeks to take Maria on a proper date. It’d been an amazing night. One he took twisted pride in making sure everyone knew about.

“Yeah, I’ll take it then.” He signed the paper and took his food. “Thanks.”

The kid nodded and practically ran back to his car.

Michael placed the food on the small kitchen counter and sat down, staring at the plastic containers while the smell of garlic and basil filled the tight space.

With shaking hands, he found his phone and sent a quick text.

Thanks for the food, babe

He waited impatiently for the response to come, leg bouncing with anticipation.

What food?

He closed his eyes and threw his head back.

******

“You need to leave me alone.”

Alex was sitting in the sun, tan biceps on display, glasses resting on his nose to block out the rays, reading a book. Michael had barely gotten out of his truck before he’d begun his tirade.

“You’re fucking things up for me, Manes. I don’t want anything from you.”

Alex pushed his glasses into his hair and squinted, using his free hand to shield his eyes.

“Okay.”

Michael stood, hands on his hips, chest heaving, itching for a fight. “Okay?”

Alex nodded. He put his sunglasses back in place and opened his book back up. “Okay.”

They were silent as Michael stared in disbelief and Alex did his best to pretend not to notice Michael’s continued presence.

Eventually it became too much.

“What’s your deal, Manes? Trying to get into my head? Mess up my relationship? What?”

Alex sighed before replacing his bookmark and reaching for his crutch. He stood a bit awkwardly and used the spine of the novel to push his glasses back up so Michael was forced to clearly see his eyes.

“What exactly have I done, Guerin? What exactly is it that’s upsetting you so much?”

Michael opened his mouth but Alex beat him to the punch. “I must have gotten confused again. My fault. Do I owe you more apologies? I’m sorry.”

He turned and began walking toward the house before pausing at the doorway. Alex turned and Michael stood, chin lifted in defense although he couldn’t think of one thing to say.

“I assumed a friend would make sure you didn’t drive drunk. Would get you out of jail. Would make sure you ate. What the hell kind of friends do you have that you think that’s me trying to mess up your life?”

Michael’s face dropped, the realization that maybe Alex hadn’t done anything wrong; that Michael had twisted it all until it was a totally unrecognizable version of the truth.

“You already told me to stay away from you, Michael, so I did. You made it clea you don’t love me, don’t want me, and I have done everything I can to try accepting that. You said you wanted to be with Maria, so I smiled and told you I understood. You needed help getting Max back, getting answers to where you come from, you’re people, I’m doing my best. What else do you want? No contact at all? Me completely out of your life? If I moved to New York tomorrow would that be far enough away from you or would I still be pissing you off somehow? Is my continued existence that much of a fucking burden for you, Michael?”

Alex’s voice had gotten loud, his words bouncing off of the courtyard walls. Michael had felt himself shrink, pull back into himself with shame and embarrassment. He survived each day by thinking the universe was out to get him; he was dealt a shit card and he had to handle it by being shit back.

Until Alex’s words smacked him in the face and he saw the pain he’d been causing first hand, it had been an easy lie to believe.

Silently, Alex walked into his house, door slamming loudly behind him. Michael’s heart was racing as his stomach turned. He couldn’t move a muscle, still couldn’t think of one word to say. He was feeling too much, unable to filter through it all to force himself to be coherent.

The sound of a door closing again jolted him back to the moment. Alex came toward him, face full of thunder while his gorgeous brown eyes looked through him, hollow nothingness.

“Here.” Alex took a backpack from his shoulder and handed it over. It was surprisingly heavy. Michael opened the flap and gasped at the shimmering purple of his ship.

He felt his eyes begin to water, not knowing why. He looked to Alex for answers, to help him understand what was happening, to him. To them.

Alex tilted his head toward the bag. “Jim Valenti had it. I found it and wanted to give it to you. But then you talked about getting it all to work and leaving the planet and I thought I’d literally fucking die if you did that so I kept it.” He let out a humorless laugh and stared at the sky. Michael realized he was trying not to cry.

“Didn’t make much difference in the end, though, did it?”

Michael let his tears fall, too overwhelmed to maintain any control.

“I’m sorry I kept it. It was yours. I had no right.”

Michael shook his head. “Why now?”

Alex scanned Michael’s face, hurt bleeding into those chocolate eyes. When he spoke, it was empty and full of defeat.

“So you can finally be done with me, Michael.”

Michael let out a small sob and clutched the bag so tight it was cutting off circulation to his fingers. Alex adjusted his crutch, getting ready to move once again.

They looked at one another, falling into memories of another time, thoughts of all the what-ifs. Michael kept searching for something to say, moving through his own brain like a Rolodex, digging for the right thing, to make sure Alex knew that this was never what he wanted. That while his mouth said stay away, his heart screamed don’t leave me.

He watched as Alex’s eyes filled with tears, an expression Michael had managed to put on his face far too many times.

Alex whispered a broken, “bye, Michael,” before going back inside, shutting the door behind him and locking it with a click.

Michael had no idea how long he stood outside of Alex’s house; long enough for the sun to get lower and his shadow to get longer. He forced his feet to move and shuffled to his truck, tossing the backpack on the passenger seat.

As he drove back home, he began devising a plan.

Step 1: Cut down on the fucking drinking.

Step 2: Hug Isobel and apologize.

Step 3: Talk to Maria and apologize.

Step 4: Find out how Alex likes his coffee.

#Roswell New Mexico #Malex #Malex fic #angst #barely edited #my fic

189 notes · View notes

mikasaluna · 3 years

Text

泣かないで

⚠ WARNINGS：potentionally triggering content ! bullying ! violence ! graphic suicide descriptions ! self harm ! blood ! dark content !

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED IMMEDIATELY.

「 Keep in mind your triggers and do not engage if it will provoke negative emotions. You are responsible for your own actions. 」

♥️

notes：gender neutral pronouns, angst, fluff, romance, 1,961 words

If you need help I recommend posting on r/suicidewatch or searching for your area’s local suicide helpline using ctrl+f on the following wikipedia page.

♥️

A/N：Also if you are being bullied or have been bullied, I just want you to know that it isn’t true, it isn’t your fault. Please try to be kind to yourself, even if it feels like the whole world is against you. 貴方には生きる力があります。

Haikyuu!! / ハイキュー!!

♥️

Nishinoya Yuu 西谷夕

School itself was miserable enough, but being forced to wait in the halls for home ed to start was always a nightmare.

Two girls pushed past you, one intentionally elbowing you in the ribs, while the other whispered a spiteful “bitch” under her breath. Who the hell even were they? Not that it mattered. As much anger as you felt, you knew you weren’t going to do anything, and neither was anybody else. You hated every single one of them. The looks of pity, the harsh words, the punches thrown so carelessly in your direction. Everything and everyone. You’d given up trying, the situation was completely unescapable.

“Alright, come in and take your seats, quietly!” The teacher yelled out, opening the doors for everyone. You sat down in the corner, looking down at your desk and praying you’d turn invisible, or perhaps just drop dead already. The rest of the class filed in, setting their things down as the teacher began to rush through that lesson’s cooking method. With the students being as unruly as they were, she struggled to ever maintain their attention for more than five minutes. You could easily blame Nishinoya for that, he was always bouncing off the walls, the rest of the class feeding eagerly on his lively energy. Perhaps it was just his blissfully unaware attitude, or the fact that everybody in the class admired him so much, but that kind of perpetual joy was something you could never understand.

“Today you’ll be working in pairs, so please find somebody to work with before we start.” Great. What a fantastic way to draw attention to yourself, working all alone when not a single person wants to cook with you. They’d probably call you diseased or something, it wasn’t worth it, not at all. Your mind was made up, you’d ask to go to the bathroom, then you’d leave school for the day and go home. Somehow, getting yelled at by your parents for skipping school again felt genuinely appealing at that point.

“Y/N, let’s work together!” A voice called out to you from across the class. Turning your gaze warily, you were met by a pair of sparkling eyes and a hand waving out enthusiastically. Right... him. Something about his bright smiles and persistent cheerfulness made you feel ten times more miserable than you already were. Nodding silently in agreement, envy started to bubble up in your chest. Why did things turn out this way? Why did he get to be happy, and you didn’t? Well, if anything, you wouldn’t have to leave the class now, so you could at least be grateful for that.

“One last thing! These knives are new, and they are very sharp!” The teacher warned, “so please be extra cautious today.” You peered over to the shiny new tools placed on each of the benches. Just by looking at them you could tell that they were sharp enough to cut through wood.

The class rose and began taking their places around the benches, Nishinoya setting off to collect ingredients as you filled a pot with water, placing it down next to the stove. The equipment here was old and faulty at times, so you liked to check that it was heating by hovering your hand a safe distance above the element. Warmth tickled your palm reassuringly.

Just as you were pulling back, a boy forcfully grabbed your wrist from behind, his nails digging into your skin. Dread filled your entire body and sent your stomach in knots as he forced your hand down onto the hot element. Pain shot through you, skin searing on the burning iron. Before you could let out a scream, you felt your arm being released. Everything became blurry, laughter filling the air around you. They were laughing at you. Was that all you were really worth? Just some disposable laughing stock they could torment at their will? You balled your hand into a fist, turning around quietly as footsteps sounded ahead.

“Y/N! I got our ingredients, you wanna cut up the carrots?” Nishinoya chimed out. The words took a moment to process, your brain still trying to catch up to everything that was happening.

“I- yeah. Sure thing.” You mumbled in reply, gazing down at the bench. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. The overwhelming urge to run away was taking over your body, but you fought it back along with the tears. All you had to do was make it through this lesson.

You stared quietly at the blade, light reflected onto the silver material, shimmering along its surface. It was strange, how something so seemingly sinister, could appear so beautiful in moments like these. You put down the knife for a moment, feeling for the pulse on your wrist. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing, even if you hadn’t planned for this to happen so soon. You didn’t want to be here, and clearly no one else wanted you here either. The steady beat of your artery pumped rythmically, the feeling of life under your fingertips: an unwanted reminder that you were still alive.

Setting your aim towards that artery and directing the knife above your wrist, you lifted the blade slowly, before stabbing into your flesh with all of your force. A tendon snagged as you ripped the blade back from your wrist, making your toes curl and your eyes roll back. Hot blood began to flow from the wound, but it wasn’t enough, you couldn’t allow your mind to catch up.

“NO!” Nishinoya screamed, scrambling to halt your movements, but it was too late. Your mind faded into a dream-like state, stabbing into yourself over and over until your wrist was tattered and ruined. He finally managed to rip the knife from your grasp, shaky hands causing it to drop onto the floor where a puddle of blood was quickly forming. It was all over, nothing could save you now.

Choking on his words, Nishinoya gripped the tea towel he was holding around your wrist in an attempt to stop the relentless bleeding. The entire class halting their movements, even the teacher had stopped to stare in frozen disbelief.

“Just stop.” You mumbled. “It’s too late, who cares.” You tore your arm from his grasp, turning to leave the room. The fabric fell to the ground, soaked red, stained and unusable. You just wanted to escape. From those people, from your life. How could they? How could they all stand there so shocked, as if they didn’t expect this at all? Wasn’t it obvious, after so many years of suffering, after everything they had put you through, yet all they could do was watch like deer in the headlights.

You grabbed your bag, running out the door and along the halls, leaving a trail of blood behind you. The air felt lighter as it filled your lungs, your breathing becoming heavy and laboured. You sat down on the concrete behind the building, just outside the school gates and out of visibility. It wasn’t the most ideal place to bleed out, you thought, but it was familiar and you really didn’t have many other options. Since you’d started high school, and met those people, coming to this place had become a regular occurance. To cry, to hide, to drink stolen alcohol filled in your drink bottle. You were almost ashamed by it, but you felt so relieved to be free of your nightmare finally, and of all the demons here who had made this school hell. You couldn’t help but wish they were the ones who had to die, and not you.

“H-hey, I-” a voice sounded weakly out from above you but you ignored it, staring staight ahead. You didn’t need to look, of course you knew who it was.

“What do you want, Nishinoya.”

“Sorry for freaking out before, can we talk?” He sat quietly down next to you, fidgeting with his fingers.

“Sure. Weather sure looks nice today, huh?”

“I’m serious, Y/N.” His voice was faltering but stern. Scoffing, you looked across into his eyes. Oh shit. Nishinoya was a mess, tears glistened on his cheeks and flowing consistently down his face. How in the world did he sound so calm?

“Alright, about what?”

“I don’t want you to have to go through this anymore, death doesn’t have to be your only option though.”

It made you want to laugh. What did he know? Everyone loved him, he had all the friends in the world. He couldn’t possibly understand your situation, and even if he did, how was he supposed to help you?

“Yeah? How are you going to manage that, Nishinoya? Unless you want the entire school turning on you too, don’t bother.” Glancing down at your wrist, you could see the blood still trickling out steadily and staining the concrete beneath you. Though, the bleeding had slowed since you were both in the classroom.

“You’re turning eighteen soon, right?”

“Yeah, I was supposed to, in a couple weeks I guess.” That was it, you clasped a hand over your mouth to supress your sobs as your eyes started to fill with tears. Every year on your birthday your grandma would come to visit, she’d always make your favourite food and spend time with you. She was one of the only people who never judged you for anything, she was always kind and now you would leave her without ever saying goodbye. Even after trying so hard to bottle it up, abandoning her like this made you regret everything.

Nishinoya’s arms wrapped around you, rubbing your back gently as you buried your face into his shoulder.

“Okay then. In two weeks, leave with me.” He said quietly.

“No, I can’t, I can’t drop out.” You’d worked so hard enduring everything for so long. If you got out of this at all, you had to graduate.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I, um- listen.” Nishinoya pulled away, putting his hands on your shoulders and looking into your eyes.

“If you move out before you finish high school, you can get a free scholarship to finish school online. My aunty told me, cause she’s a teacher or something-” He paused, looking down for a moment. “She’s going to teach in Saudia Arabia until next year so we’re allowed to stay in her house while she’s gone, that way we can both get the scholarships together. I’ve been saving for ages. When I asked you to cook with me today, it was because I wanted to tell you.”

Your eyes widened, staring back at Nishinoya in shock. You had so many questions, you didn’t know where to start, but you knew that you had to take this opportunity. Why would he do so much for you, though? If felt like your whole world was being tipped upside down, from the depths of hell to some place safe and full of hope.

“A-are you being serious?”

“Yeah, but we gotta get you to the hospital first.”

“Okay.” You smiled, still crying but this time it was happy-tears. This was the first time you’d smiled so genuinely since you had come to this nightmare school. Right now, you couldn’t have felt more lucky.

“I’m sorry for not trusting you before, Nishinoya, but hell- I’m so happy I could kiss you right now!” Without thinking, the words slipped out. His cheeks flushed red, and he leaned in so close to your face that you could feel his breath on you.

“Are you being serious?” He questioned.

“Y-yeah.” With that, Nishinoya cupped his hands around your face delicately, slowly pressing his lips against your own. It was soft and sweet against you, and in that moment you never wanted to leave his side.

12 notes · View notes

fallinnflower · 4 years

Text

in absentia

jackson x reader (hermes!au, angst)

word count: 5,638

a/n: i’d like to thank @softseunies for making this happen. thanks for being my ultimate cheerleader as i stumbled through writing this fic, mwah~

When you first meet Jackson, he’s running. You notice him at once — not only because he’s extremely attractive — because you run this same route everyday, and you’ve never seen him before. And this isn’t a heavily-populated area, so your curiosity is immediately piqued.

But soon, you’re not just seeing him when you’re running, you’re seeing him when you’re out for coffee, or at the grocery store, or on your way to work. He’s everywhere, and you have no clue who he is!

The next Saturday morning, he’s out running again, and you just can’t help yourself. You have to talk to him, and it feels like it’s now or never.

He slows his pace as he hears you approaching, lagging behind until you can fall into step beside him.

“Hey,” you greet, trying to ignore the disarming smile he shoots your way because you don’t really want to fall flat on your face in front of him.

“I couldn’t help but notice you around town. Are you new?” He lets out a breathy laugh, the sunlight glistening off his sweat-covered skin; normally, you think you’d be disgusted, but you can’t help but find him handsome.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m Jackson, it’s nice to meet you." He stops running just to shake your hand, and in the moment it takes for you to notice that and turn around, you can already feel yourself falling. His hand is warm, slightly calloused, and fits perfectly against yours. You can’t help but smile; somehow, just being near him, you feel energized.

“You, too.”

“Wanna grab coffee sometime?” He asks, beaming at you. And, well, how could you say no?

You leave the park with his number in your phone, and an unexpected spring in your step.

Jackson had noticed you long before you’d noticed him. In fact, he’d been living in the area a little longer than you thought he had, and only because he’d taken such care to scope the area out before moving in. He had to be sure there wouldn’t be trouble for him here, and that his contact with Olympus wouldn’t be obstructed in any way.

He’d first noticed you exiting a coffee shop. The look on your face was so blissful as you took a sip of your drink that he had to go in and try it for himself.

And just like that, he was hooked — on you and the coffee.

It wasn’t all about getting to know you at first. After all, he still needed to know the area he’d be living in! But then he couldn’t stop thinking about you, and he couldn’t remember the last time a mortal had made him feel the way he did when he looked at you.

So he just happened to take his daily runs on the same path as you, when he could have chosen any other place. And just happened to be taking you to your favorite coffee shop on your first date.

Yes, he intended it to be a date. He was hoping you would feel the same way by the end of it — and not just because of his godly charm. He was, after all, a supernatural being; if he wanted you, he could have you, but he had better morals than Zeus at least. Besides, it had been a long time since he’d properly flirted with and gotten to know someone — and he decided he wanted to take his time with you.

(Or, well, as much as he could stand to. He had speed built into him, adrenaline always coursing through his veins. Slow, for him, was probably not the same as slow for you.)

“So,” he says, sitting across from you in a corner table. The sun hits you just right, casting a golden halo around your head, and Jackson leans onto his elbows on the table, propping his chin in his hands as he admires you. “You’ve seen me around?” At his teasing, you startle and it takes a few coughs for you to get your bearings again.

“I, um— yeah. At the park, and stuff.”

“And stuff?” He repeats, raising one eyebrow. As he watches the expression on your face shift from embarrassment to playful irritation, realizing what he’s getting at, Jackson feels his heart skip a beat. He wishes he could keep this moment in the forefront of his mind forever, the pout on your lips so enticing he can’t help but want to kiss you. It’s shocking to him that he’s already so invested, so lost in your eyes.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you reply, a playful twinkle in your eye.

He realizes, right then and there, you might be more bewitching and dangerous than Aphrodite herself (though he’d never say such a thing in her presence), and he’s in real trouble. And he doesn’t mind that one bit. What’s life without a little danger?

Jackson is the perfect gentleman. He’s always considerate, holding the door open for you and insisting on paying; showing up early, usually with flowers; memorizing your favorite drink at your favorite cafe within the first handful of dates. It’s incredible, really — you’d thought he was just your average charmer at first, but as you get to know him you realize how genuine his charm actually is. Although he’s certainly handsome and playful, the real charm of him lies below the surface in the type of person he is.

Which is why, when he suddenly stops replying to your texts one day when you’re supposed to have a date, it feels very out of character. Jackson is usually the type to be up before dawn, messaging you just as early with pictures of a cute dog he encountered on his run or just asking if you’re ready for your date — he’s never once been late, and you never imagined he would be the type to stand you up without any reason.

And yet, when the time he’s supposed to pick you up comes around, there’s no sign of him. Your texts remain unanswered, calls going to voicemail, and at first you’re more worried than upset. You turn on the news, wondering if there’s been some kind of major accident, but there’s nothing of note that comes up on the traffic report. Slowly, your anxiety turns to aggravation, which eventually fades into self-pity. By the time three hours have passed, you can’t find a reason to keep your makeup on — so you shuffle miserably to the bathroom and wipe away the work you’d done hours before, and then hop in the shower because you can feel the tears coming on and refuse to just sit around crying on the couch. It’s more cathartic to cry in the shower, anyways.

You continue your pity party by slipping into an Eeyore onesie your friend bought you as a gag gift last year, yanking up the hood for maximum warmth as you make yourself a cup of tea and begin raiding your snack shelf for anything and everything self-indulgent. As you lug all these things into your living room, fully prepared to set up camp on the couch for the next few hours, a loud knock sounds at your door. It’s urgent, but not excessively loud, and you slowly make your way to the door and peer through the peephole—

And there’s Jackson, sweat clinging to his brow, panting like he just finished a marathon. You hate that you can’t even manage to scowl at him when you open the door.

“Y/N!” He greets, looking ecstatic for a moment before the guilt returns to his features, making him look like a kicked puppy. “I’m so, so sorry about today, but I can explain, I promise! But, like, if you never want to see me again, I get it—”

As he rambles, you find yourself stepping aside and opening your door for him. A small smile finds its way onto your face as you interrupt him,

“I’ll hear you out, but only because you look so miserable. Come on.”

You get him a glass of water before settling on the opposite end of the couch from him. Jackson downs half of it in one gulp, thanking you breathlessly before clearing his throat and schooling his expression into one that’s more somber.

“Okay, I know I said I could explain, but I… it’s going to sound weird, okay?” You furrow your brows in confusion, but nod for him to go on, nonetheless.

“I missed our date and didn’t respond to your messages because I was, um,” he pauses, licks his lips, then continues more softly, “in the underworld. I’m not actually human, I’m, uh, I’m Hermes. The Greek god. You know?”

There aren’t even crickets to fill the silence between you. Jackson stares into your eyes with his earnest, dark ones, and you feel your throat close up a bit. You avert your gaze to hide the tears you can feel welling up.

“Wow,” you scoff, softly. “You know, Jackson, if you didn’t like me you could’ve just said that—”

“I’m serious!” He cries, taking hold of both of your hands. “Just, okay, hold on a second.” Before you can reply, Jackson is pulling his hands away from yours and reaching down to pull off his socks. As you look up at him in confusion, willing yourself to ask him what the hell is going on, you notice that his skin seems to be shimmering slightly and his once dark irises have turned to gold. Without any hesitation, Jackson lifts his leg up, hands clasped behind his knee so his ankle is almost at your eye level.

It’s almost comical, you think. He must be insane, but then you actually look at his ankle in front of you and realize you must be the crazy one.

Because there’s a wing. An honest-to-God, white-feathered wing sprouting out of his ankle on the exterior side. It’s small, but it’s there, and when you tentatively reach out to touch it with the thought that maybe this is just an elaborate prank, it actually flutters.

The next thing you remember is waking up to see Jackson sitting nervously on the floor beside your couch, staring at you intently as he grips tightly onto one of your hands.

“Oh, thank goodness,” he breathes when you finally open your eyes. “Listen, I am so sorry, I’ve never— I didn’t know how to prove it to you but that was really dumb, I’m so sorry—”

“I— that wasn’t a dream?” You squeak, and you notice Jackson’s eyes still have a little gold left in them. It’s answer enough for you, and as you sit up on the couch Jackson gently places a hand against your back, bracing you in case you pass out again. You run a hand through your hair, letting out a long breath. Eventually, you lift your gaze to meet his,

“So, what you’re saying is there’s no cell service in the underworld?” You ask. Relief washes over Jackson’s features, a smile gracing his lips, and neither of you can help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

And that’s how you start dating Jackson, aka Hermes, the messenger of the Greek gods.

You had been half joking about there being no cell service in the underworld, but it turned out you were right. The results of this were handfuls of missed dates, because Jackson, true to his godly nature, was the type of person who had trouble being patient. Most times he got an assignment from the Big Guys Upstairs and started on his way without even thinking about you or how you might be waiting for him to send you a message.

You also learned the hard way that time worked differently down there, aka your boyfriend had no concept of it.

It was extremely worrisome at first. More than being frustrated at him disappearing, you were frightened — what if he wasn’t on a supernatural mission but got hit by a car or something? Did he even have emergency contacts? Did he need them?

Dating was confusing, even more so when your boyfriend is a god who sometimes goes radio silent for days at a time. Sometimes you wish there was some Olympian hotline, just so you could call up and ask if he was okay. All you ever wanted, really, was to know that. It didn’t matter to you if he missed dates for something as important as godly work, but was it too much to ask for a text in advance when he got word of a new assignment?

Were you really as insignificant to him as that?

But then Jackson would come home and you’d forgive him with his puppy dog eyes and remind yourself how lucky you were to be with someone like Jackson; not only because he was a god and you were a mortal, but because he was such a doting, perfect boyfriend when he was around. So you pushed any misgivings you had aside for his sake, trying to enjoy all the time you could with him, ignoring how the frustration piled up in the corners of your mind.

It would be wrong to say that Jackson was the only one who had to go away on business from time to time, although you certainly went less often than he did — and your trips always had a general sense of structure. And cell service.

You’d been chosen by your company to go as a representative on a week-long trip to negotiate a contract with a firm in Japan. It was exciting, and quite the opportunity, but it ran you ragged. After spending three hours on a plane and more than that in airports, going through customs and lugging your bags around, you’re more than excited to be back on familiar soil. And even that pales in comparison to the thought of seeing Jackson again. You can’t help the goofy grin that spreads across your features as you imagine running into his arms for the first time in a week — somehow, it feels so much longer than that, but maybe it’s because he was away on his own business until the crack of dawn the morning you left. Those short, meager hours together in bed weren’t nearly enough to get you through a whole business trip.

The forecast is calling for rain, but thankfully the weather hasn’t turned just yet, although it’s chilly enough to have you longing for your space heater of a boyfriend even more. You pull out your phone to text him that you’re at the departures area, waiting just inside the doors; you know he’ll get concerned if you wait outside.

The message is delivered. Just like the one you sent when your plane finally taxied in over ten minutes ago.

Jackson is the type to respond to messages fast, especially when they’re from you. He’s a little clingy like that, and especially so after you’ve been gone for a while. But as you stand around, watching people cart their luggage out to cars and reunite with their own loved ones, you can’t help but feel increasingly impatient.

Five minutes pass. Then ten. Fifteen. Your phone has been put on low-power mode, sitting at nineteen percent, and you shift the weight of your duffel around on your shoulder to try and ease the ache in your neck.

In a last ditch effort fueled by irritation, sleep deprivation, and hunger from skipping lunch because everything at the airport is overpriced, you try calling Jackson.

It goes to voicemail. You frown, because you know exactly what that means, and you hate that you aren’t surprised by it at all. A glance out the glass doors shows you that it’s started raining, and you feel your shoulders slump — as soon as you manage to hail a taxi outside, you nearly start crying in the backseat. If the driver notices your foul mood, he doesn’t mention anything; he actually just turns the radio up for you a bit, which you appreciate. You’re in no mood to talk.

The apartment is cold and empty when you get in, meaning your boyfriend probably hasn’t been around for at least a day — he would’ve turned the heat on for you, at least, if he had. You drop your duffel by the shoe rack and trudge into the kitchen, wanting nothing more than a home-cooked meal, even if it’s leftovers—

The fridge is sparse. Any and all leftovers have obviously been consumed by your boyfriend, and with how cold the apartment is yogurt just doesn’t sound appetizing. You shut the door with more force than necessary, the sound echoing through the apartment as you dig out a cheap packet of instant ramen and a bowl, shoving it in the microwave. As the mechanical whir fills the otherwise empty apartment, you plug your phone into the extra charger on the kitchen counter.

When it powers up, you find no new messages on your screen, and the ones you’ve sent to Jackson remain unseen.

You get over it. You always do, especially when you wake up to Jackson cooking you a massive apology breakfast in the kitchen.

It’s a routine. You can’t stay mad at him — in part because you love him, but also because you’re too tired to stay mad at him. If you let every little setback like this piss you off, then the relationship would die. You tell yourself it’s up to you to keep the peace; you agreed to date a god, and so you should’ve expected it.

You try to ignore the ache in your chest when you press your face into his shoulder, allowing him to press apologetic kisses to the crown of your head and smooth down the wrinkles the his shirt you’d slept in. Your anger seeps into the cracks, unseen and for all you care, forgotten.

It’s the perfect evening. You’re clinging to Jackson’s arm as he guides you towards the restaurant your coworker has been hyping up for weeks. You have reservations, and your boyfriend is wearing a suit and keeps telling you how beautiful you look — it’s perfect.

Friday nights are good date nights, and because of that the restaurant is extremely crowded. You’re glad you thought ahead to get a reservation for you and Jackson, and gaze around the warmly-lit establishment in childlike wonder. Jackson holds your hand across the table, using the other to peruse the menu. After a few minutes of doing the same, you lift your eyes from the page to your boyfriend’s handsome face.

“What are you thinking?” You ask, folding your own menu and setting it aside.

“Your coworker said their pasta was good, right?” You nod, listening to Jackson as he discusses the two options he’s stuck between, and when he starts getting pouty over the decision you giggle and squeeze his hand.

“How about you get one and I get the other, and we can split?” His eyes light up at your suggestion. He lifts your hand from the table and presses a kiss to your knuckles, beaming,

“This is why I love you.”

“Because I share food with you?” You ask, laughing, and Jackson shakes his head, smiling gently at you from across the table. His skin almost glows in the warm golden lighting.

“No, because—”

A familiar ringtone fills the air between you, and Jackson leans back in his seat. His hand slips from your without even a moment’s hesitation as he pulls his phone from his pocket, answering it without even apologizing to you. You swallow hard, throat suddenly feeling very dry.

Only a few seconds later, his chair is pushed back and he’s standing beside you.

“I have to go,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “Don’t wait up, okay? Enjoy the dinner.”

The waiter arrives with your drinks as Jackson leaves the restaurant. You can’t even bring yourself to watch him go, just listening to his footsteps until they disappear below the murmurs around you.

“Is something wrong?” The waiter asks. You shoot him a weak smile, feeling unbearably cold all of a sudden.

“Ah, I’m sorry, but I’ll need to get the orders to-go. Something has come up.” You’re grateful that the waiter merely nods and takes down your order, saying nothing more than is necessary. The guy even packs up some breadsticks for you, since you hadn’t even gotten that far, and within twenty minutes you’re walking alone down the sidewalk you’d just walked up with Jackson not even an hour before. There are people all around you, but somehow all you can hear is the sound of your solitary feet hitting the pavement as you make your way to the apartment.

It was supposed to be a perfect evening. You’d go out to dinner and Jackson would keep telling you how good you looked, and you’d come home and bask in each other for as long as you wanted. It would’ve been a blissful start to the weekend — but now here you are, standing in the doorway with a plastic bag dangling from your wrist.

You don’t bother to reheat your food. You shove Jackson’s box in the fridge and drop to the carpet in your living room, putting on some dumb reality show to try and numb your brain to the waves of loneliness and shame you feel rolling over you. You eat all the breadsticks by yourself, but you still end up leaving some of your pasta for Jackson to try later.

Like many of the nights you spend without Jackson, you end up falling asleep on the couch. Sometimes it’s hard to sleep in a bed without him.

You wake up to an empty apartment. You drag yourself off the couch and into the kitchen to wash your dishes from the night before. It sucks being without Jackson, sucks even more that you still feel embarrassed about the night before at that wonderful restaurant, but you know that at least the apartment will look nice when he comes back. Before you can start overthinking, you start a pot of coffee and begin spraying down the counters. The busier your body is, the less time you have to think.

Saturday passes in a whirlwind of cleaning supplies and music turned up high so you don’t have to hear yourself think. Sunday drags along, with you desperately thinking of errands to run and completing them in no time at all. You spend the afternoon binge-watching a drama, and that night when you open the fridge you’re confronted once again by Jackson’s leftovers on the glass shelf.

You avert your gaze and pull out the leftovers of your own pasta, which you’d initially intended for him. It may have been a petty thing to do, really, but you didn’t care much about if he thought you were being petty. He wouldn’t dare to bring it up anyways. The two of you never talked about things that upset you, especially not right after he came home from a trip to the underworld. You manage to fall asleep alone in bed this time.

Monday dawns with no sign of your boyfriend, and you try to ease the worry in your heart, but nothing except for seeing him could possibly make you feel any better. You go through work on autopilot, wishing you could just get over this already. It isn’t like it’s anything new, anyways.

You eat his leftovers that night, because he’s nowhere to be seen and you can’t stand to see it go to waste. It tastes like ashes in your mouth.

He finally comes back on Wednesday night. You should be asleep, but you just couldn’t get your mind to stop running in circles, so you trudged back into the living room and sat down to watch some mindless TV with a cup of tea. It almost works, maybe, except that the clicking of the front door unlocking snaps you out of your half-asleep state.

The two of you rarely fight, but this time you can’t help it. The moment he walks in from the entryway, you feel the annoyance and rage of the past two years bubbling to the surface, unable to be contained.

“Hey,” he greets, sounding tired but not unhappy. He leans down to press a kiss to your cheek and you hardly even blink, eyes still focused on the television. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything, just moves towards the kitchen and somehow that makes you even angrier. You clench your jaw, the words coming out sharp as you hear him rifling around in the drawer for a set of chopsticks,

“Aren’t you going to say anything else?” The rifling doesn’t stop, like he doesn’t even notice the change in your tone. Is he even around enough to notice something so small anymore?

“What do you mean?” He asks, stuffing some noodles into his mouth. You turn your cold gaze onto him, finding yourself infuriated with his casual pose, leaning against the doorframe as though he hasn’t a care in the world.

“I don’t know, maybe a sorry for leaving in the middle of our date?” Jackson swallows his bite and sets his bowl down, slowly making his way to the couch. He sits down beside you, turning his knees in towards yours, and slowly pulls both of your hands off of your lap and into his own. He takes a deep breath before speaking,

“Babe, you know I didn’t want to leave—”

“Do I?” You ask, “Do I know that, Jackson? You barely even hesitated to leave me there alone!” You snatch your hands away and stand up abruptly, feeling your head begin to ache with oncoming tears.

“Do you know how— how embarrassing it was to have to tell the waiter I wanted the food to-go? And then to walk all the way back here by myself, and eat by myself?”

Your boyfriend merely stares at you from his seat on the couch, slack-jawed. Suddenly, you find your vision to blurry to see him clearly, and you shake your head.

“Whatever, I’m going to bed.”

It doesn’t surprise either of you when you lock the bedroom door behind you.

Unlike any other fight you’ve ever had with Jackson, the anger from this one seeps into the next day. You avoid him in the morning before work, but you can’t seem to do so once you get home. Jackson is lying on the couch, eyes shut tight, and you shuffle quietly into the kitchen to start making dinner.

You bring him a bowl to the living room, the sound of the ceramic settling on the wood waking him from his nap. His eyes are bloodshot and bleary; he probably didn’t sleep much last night, if at all, and you almost feel a little bit guilty. Instead, you just avert your eyes when he thanks you for dinner, and begin shoveling the food into your mouth.

But the tension continues building, like a string being pulled taut, and eventually you can’t take the silence anymore. You lick your lips nervously and set your bowl on the counter, staring at the traces of sauce left on the inside.

“So,” you start, voice small. “Are we gonna talk about it?

Jackson groans. Out of the corner of your eye you see him rub his face with his hands, keeping them over his eyes for a moment longer as he huffs a long breath out of his nose.

“Can’t it wait, Y/N? I’m exhausted.” Again, you almost pity him — but then, for a moment, you pity yourself as well. Where has he been when you’re exhausted, when you need him? Your mind goes back to standing in departures, waiting for a call that never came, and your blood runs hot.

“No, it can’t wait, Jackson,” you reply coldly. “Not anymore.”

“What do you mean ‘not anymore’? I’m just asking for one night—”

“You can’t promise that!” You interrupt. “You can’t promise it will only be one night! I want— I need to talk about this before you leave again, or I might really not be able to do this anymore.” At that, Jackson’s posture stiffens. He lifts his face from his hands and turns to look at you, panic evident in his eyes.

“What does that mean?”

“It means exactly what I said! I can’t wait around for you forever,” you snap, and Jackson finds himself speechless. Suddenly, all the anger that had wound your muscles tight like a spring snaps, leaving your shoulders sagging, your expression hollow,

“I don’t have forever, Jackson.”

His heart constricts, his throat tightening along with it. His mouth opens, but no sound comes out, and you simply stare him down in the silence of the apartment. Jackson wants nothing more than to take you into his arms and smother you with his apologies, prove his love to you, but the familiar chime sounds from the watch on his wrist.

“I— Y/N, you know… I can’t just…”

Normally, after an argument like this, you’d scoff. This time, there are no snide remarks, only a tired look in your eyes where the smile doesn’t reach. You jerk your chin slightly towards the front door.

“Go on, then,” you say. It’s as he slips out the door he hears something that makes his heart drop:

“Hermes.”

In his younger years, it had seemed like a cool thing to be the only god allowed to come and go from the underworld as he pleased. The thing is, as with anything else, it tends to lose its luster in the face of monotony.

This trip had been particularly hellish (pun intended) because Cerberus just needed attention, and needed it right then. April was always the worst for Hades; no matter how many years passed he still pouted relentlessly when Persephone had to leave and would spend the next few months moping. As such, his three-headed dog wasn’t exactly getting the most attention. And who was Jackson to deny Cerberus that? The poor pup didn’t know any better.

He didn’t have his bearings at first, but once he emerged back into the mortal world he found that it was nighttime. After a moment his watch readjusted to his earthly time: it had been almost a full week since he’d left.

Meaning it had been almost a full week since your fight.

Thinking back on it, Jackson finds himself filled with shame. You were right, of course — he doesn’t have the best work-life balance, mostly because he’s never needed to. He had never considered bringing a mortal into his life, and even when he asked you to be with him he selfishly pushed your needs and feelings aside in order to do his job. When was the last time he’d really heard you out? When was the last time he did something nice for you, even asked you about your life or what you needed or how you were doing?

How was it that he had all the time in the world and then some, and yet he couldn’t make any for you?

On his way back to your apartment, he stops by the one convenience store still open and buys as many of your favorite candy bars as he could. The cashier gives him a weird look, but all he can think about is how he’s going to apologize when he inevitably wakes you from your slumber.

A feeling overtakes him as he walks up the stairs in your building. A sudden onslaught of nerves, unusual for him considering his outgoing nature. It causes him to pick up the pace, going two steps at a time up to your floor until finally he bursts out into the hallway, feeling as though he can barely breathe from the tightness in his chest.

He fishes the spare key out of his pocket. It doesn’t fit the lock. At the moment, all he can do is scoff at how petty that is of you, to change the locks on him — especially when he doesn’t need a key to get through a door.

But then he enters the apartment.

It’s empty. Your shoes aren’t by the door, your furniture is gone. There are indents from your couch legs still in the living room carpet, but the kitchen as spotless and so are all the walls, he realizes, as he stumbles through the hall in a sudden haze.

There’s nothing. Not in the medicine cabinet, not in the closet where you keep your towels— even the scent of you seems to be fading and Jackson suddenly finds himself weak in the knees, leaning heavily on the doorframe to your bedroom so he doesn’t fall to the floor.

The moonlight through the window pours straight onto the center of the floor, unobstructed in the absence of your bed.

Jackson forces himself through to your en-suite bathroom, feeling suddenly sick to his stomach, his pulse racing. He stares down into the white bowl of the sink, willing his vision to become clear once again.

Slowly, his gaze raises up to meet the eyes of his reflection. His eternally young face stares back at him, once a point of pride, now only a crushing reminder of the last words of your argument. I don’t have forever.

“What good is forever without you?” He asks, although he knows you aren’t there to hear him. You didn’t leave even the faintest trace of yourself. Jackson allows a handful of hot tears to run down his face before turning and making his way out of the apartment. As he pulls the door shut behind him, he prepares to do what he does best—

He runs.

#jackson wang #got7 jackson #got7 scenarios #got7 reactions #got7 fanfic #got7 fanfiction #got7 texts #got7 writings #kpop fanfiction #kpop reactions #kpop writing #kpop scenarios #kpop texts #My writing #jackson scenarios

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hungryflowers · 4 years

Text

Let Me Fall In Love With You

RadioHusk Week Prompt Day 6: Why Are you Like This

Chapter 6: Not There, But Getting There

He moved on. Alastor bitterly mouthed to himself. Despair bit at his heart like a feral beast with icy fangs. He could feel the maw rip a hole through his chest, plunging the knives into the blackening meat over and over again. There were tiers to despair, he found out. The first one was the smoldering, unquenched fire stirring up in his bones; any movements he made, sounds he heard, voices that spoke stoked the flames until the reached into the second tier. The scorching was when the fires came out. Rage unfamiliar, intense, violent rushed out of him. It was fuel from his smoldering, the fires warring out of control, heat slithering into his mind as it ruled his every thought. It became a parasite that made him act upon irrationality. In this fit he would scream, mostly at himself, throw things, rip up and down his home upheaving many things along the way. After it was over the final tier came; snuffing.

It came when he was tired, apathetic, emotionless to the damage he had caused. To everything; from his home to the frailty of the relationship he wanted to have. He’d lay in his bed, on the floor, he’d sit by the fireplace for an hour or so just to leer at the flames until his eyes hurt. He would go hours without the sustenance of a meal one minute, then go and binge to feel something the next. It was like this for him now; the feelings of fullness in his belly but not in his empty shell he excused for a beating heart. He wondered why his heart even kept up beating if he wasn’t well, and in truth, very dead.

His eyes sprang with droplets of what tasted like salt from his eyes on every other occasion. He’d grown accustomed to their taste and feel, so he let them fall from his eyes in silent weeps. The frontal sadness making his shake like the brittle leaves in a winter wind. The things barely clinging to life on the tree.

When he was done feeling sorry... for anything, he’d go out on the town to his Parlor. The lively jazz and swinging atmosphere could do the trick in helping out his mood. He’d be out there all night, listening to the music, watching the girls sing and dance past him, spare a glance to a gentleman or two who wanted to hear him sing again. The radio demon became more a spectator than an owner at his club. There were no new talents he went to introduce, no drink specials, no fun dance and song numbers tonight. The liveliness sailed clean out of him. He let the club pass him by every single night. For a month straight. He did do something when he went however. He forgets his resentment toward himself on how he treated Husk.

The feeling was to remain temporary. Each time he went home, the despair coiled inside of him again. This cycle was never going to end.

Alastor decided to shake up his usual pity party by going further into the city. The places where he felt like he needed to spend his time were going to be much different than what he’d prefer. Not to say he had never been to some of these places before, he didn’t frequent them like the grander majority of the others. Huge grin plastered on his face, posture highly exaggerated, a simple tune playing on his lips, Alastor went inside to a cleanly looking chateaux building known merely as Champagne. The flashing white neons brought in a luxurious, risqué feel to the place. One would most likely mistake it for a brothel on the outside.

Clear to form on the inside, the establishment was more like an extravagant lounge area with unnecessarily long lounging couches, purplish pink tile floors and tactful decorations by the walls. Every inch of the lounge was aesthetic and pleasing to the eyes, as well as varying other senses. Alastor didn’t much care for women who’s eyes were on him the second he entered the double doors. They greeted him with a superficial retail smile and a little coy giggle, a few of them tried at getting handsy yet never touched him. Other females kept their distance, but never stopped scoping out the chance to get near him.

With a flick of his wrist Alastor gestured to one of the many girls at the bar. Heels clacked on the tiles as she bent over suggestively to take his order. She was a bit tall, though the heels could keep up the illusion. Siren like yellow eyes shimmered in the neons of the lounge, her skin appeared a slight grey, or an off white and she was covered in sleek, silkened fur. Well trimmed nails tapped on an electric device before she gestured to listen, short ears swiveling to Alastor’s attention.

Alastor kept it simple with his drink, just an Ol’ Fashioned and she was sent on her way to fetch it. Though not before grazing her nails along his down facing palm.

The joint didn’t look too busy tonight, in spite of it being in a high traffic part of the city. Intriguing thought to not have that many sinners out tonight. This side was a prowler’s paradise. He paid for his drink, tipping his hat to the server then headed out for the night, nothing sparking his interest in the club.

Alastor went for a walk. He didn’t have a clear destination in mind for sometime. The streets appeared a bit desolate on this night, giving a visual light of how he was feeling on the inside. Save a few smaller imps causing mischiefs wherever they went nothing struck to him. His mind mumbled on how he would never get the opportunity to see Husk again, nor find out if there was anything he could do to fix the wrong. There wasn’t a use on lamenting on it now. Husk found no love in him. There was no love to be found in this beast, Alastor scoffed bitterly. His ears drooped more, perforated smile wobbling, seeming to wilt at the corners. Those same salty drops stung at the corner of his eyes.

That cycle of misery began anew as he went as far away to make sure no others were able to see him like this.

The park gate was open as he went through to find a more quiet area. The skies bled deeper shades of red as he went further into the woods. The shades merged with Alastor’s jacket as the shadows twisted off in the distance. His eyes went to the shadowy shaded shelter of a mighty oak; leaves not yet shed, splotches of red and oranges decorated the trunks and branches. A soft gust pulled some of the leaves causing them to rustle in a whisper. The roots appeared to be coming out of the ground, some intertwining with each other, the more few peeking out to look like a sleeping place.

In its shadow, Alastor looked so small. Helpless, even defenseless. The salty drops rained down his cheeks before Alastor collapsed on the trunk, ears falling back totally, eyes squeezed shut in the phantom throngs on pain. His face began to hurt as he sniveled and snarled. He had never done this before. Since his eternity in Hell, nothing has ever brought him to this pain. He was invincible. A telling of power and strength. He comes from an era that projects his strength; the force and will of a man. He never saw any men around him have this feeling before. Not even his own father told him about this kind of dread, shame and misery. There’s nothing he can make of this ultimate sadness.

He lets his feelings flow. Unchecked and unfiltered, and now it starts to make him feel different. It isn’t a bad feeling, but it doesn’t make him feel good. More tears fall, a sigh comes unevenly. The breeze caresses his stinging cheeks- no... not a breeze. He withdraws immediately to feel the feathery tell of a tail brushing against his face. He opens his eyes to peer at the flickering red plumage at the end of the sooty tail.

“So the Radio Demon cries?” The weathered tone sounds too familiar. It’s exactly who he expects.

Alastor looks up to see Husk, perched quietly on the top of one of the branches close to Alastor. He seems to smile at him, marigold eyes closing slow and soft as his tail swipes along the deer demon’s face, wiping away the stray tears.

“H-Husk...,” He sounds so exhausted, in pain even, “How... H-How did you... I-I thought I was-”

“Alone?” Husk inquired, ears tilting to the sniffling of the young man. His pupils widened when Alastor nodded before slumping against the tree. Both accumulated silence, the quiet giving Alastor time to right himself while he thought of the next thing to say. Husk managed to sit up to stretch, the angle of his body creaking and crackling in discomfort. A minor shake later and Husk was climbing downwards to sit next to the deer demon.

“So this is what a month without me reduced you to?”, Husk says pitifully, “Jesus you look like shit.” The male laughed when Alastor turned to look at him.

“I...I normally am not like this.” He whispers, static coming and going.

“What? Sobbing like an orphan? Yeah, crying’s really hard to do around here.” Husk’s paw went to Alastor’s face, scrubbing some trails.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I never would have done that if I knew it was bound to make things worse. I can’t wrong you for hating me, for fearing me. For... despising me. I’m an overlord. I’m one of powers of occult magics and elite status, I’m just not used to being told ‘no’, or having to force myself to get a hard look at...well, myself,” The radio demon brushed back his hair, gloves a bit damp from drying his tears, “I realize now that everything I was trying just wasn’t making you happy. And if that’s something you want more of, I’ll step aside. This won’t continue, I’ll move on, if it’s just for your sanity.”

Husk kept quiet the whole of Alastor’s apology. He felt like he shouldn’t accept it, but something about him just made his heart give. Who knew a month of stewing in your own failure did the trick in making him realize he’d been in the wrong. Husk wanted to keep brushing the tears from Alastor’s eyes, he wanted to shove himself into him and give the biggest hug that would do the best in calming him down. He wanted a lot of things, but this was just fine for him.

Alastor. The infamous Radio Demon let his walls down, apologized openly to him. Between them now was not a barrier of mistrust and disguised discomfort. At this moment, Husk could, was feeling sorry for him.

“I-I-I just want to make this, us better. If you’ll allow me.” The deer demon lifted his left hand, holding it close enough for Husk to keep his eye on, but never to touch.

The old male looked at Alastor’s hand and then his face. His smile was warbled and trembling. His frame looked as if it were to fall apart, crumble if a single gust of wind were to blow. He was a mess, way too vulnerable for any other Sinner to see him like this. Husk’s full moon wide eyes rippled in the night; the only light that looked natural in all of the bloody red.

Husk’s own claw extended. Alastor watched it, unsure. He probably felt that he was going to knock it away and storm away. He had it in his head that he was beyond forgiveness at this point. This his words were just theatre and there was nothing genuine in the tangent to be shown. The thoughts vanished the moment Husk’s supple paw closes over Alastor’s willow-like fingers.

“I’m glad that you don’t want to keep things the way they used to be. The thought being body-slammed every time I tell ya to fuck off is grating. Al, I don’t want you to go anywhere feeling how you feel now. So that just means you’re stuck with me until you get your shit together.” The cat chuckled as he pulled him in for a wide hug. His wings opened, leaning down to caress over the other man’s body.

“Wait...what?” Alastor’s response was watery and shaky at best. His body shook as fresh tears streamed down his cheeks.

“You heard me,” Husk could feel the free fall of his own tears as he pulled Alastor in more, “We’re in this for the long haul, so you better get used to it.” He laughed as his cheek fur brushed into Alastor’s cheekbones. There was a little rumble coming from Alastor as the deer demon chuckled with him.

“Should I ever be so lucky? Why are you like this?” The tears died down as the young man leant in further, body going lax in Husk’s assured grip.

“Like what? Funny and blunt as fuck? Years of turning my nose up at everyone and failing to care makes it that much easier.” He pulled back a slight, cheek still nestled into Alastor’s.

“I want to start over. I owe you all of that.” Alastor pulled back to look Husk in the face.

“Don’t want that. No reason to go back to where we were. Let’s just take off from where we are.” Husk softened a touch as he pressed his forehead to Alastor’s. He sighed in contentment, his paw still holding Alastor’s as he pressed to his chest.

“I...love you.” Alastor stated shyly.

“Not... quite there in terms of affirmations yet. Let’s just be like this for a while longer.” Husk pulled away, eyes lulling dreamily as he nuzzled Alastor again.

“Okay...”, The younger gent sighed softly, “Do you want to come back home with me? I’ll make you a fresh meal. With just my hands. I promise I won’t do anything.” He pulled his knees out from underneath as he tried to stand. His smile brightened when Husk nodded, his posture welcoming to the idea.

“I can eat. I’d like that a lot.” It was a simple response with a special feeling tied deep within. The gesture, the words. They had all been fine for Alastor during this time. Now he felt as if he didn’t want to move too fast in the hopes of keeping this safe. And keeping Husk happy. He’d have to relearn this type of love. Now’s a better than ever and Husk looked to be patient.

After all, anything worth having is definitely worth fighting for. And Alastor was willing to go to war to protect it. If that’s what it all meant.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel husk #husk #alastor

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alittlextrathatway · 4 years

Note

Dialogue no. 40!

A/N: So I went wayyyyy far into established Brettsey land for this one. All thanks to @dopemixtape btw who helped me with nearly all the details in this prompt response. (the names, the scenario, all of it). She’s a blessing to my life (and also the person who introduced me to Brettsey in the first place.) Anyway, hope you like it!

40. “I never stood a chance, did I?”

—————————————-

Casey focuses on repairing the railing on the back porch stairs. A few years ago, he probably would have let this particular repair sit while he took care of the paying jobs for people other than himself, but these days repairs to his own home are fairly pressing – For a few reasons.

One of which is bounding out the back door and running toward the stairs without a single glance up.

“Careful!” he scolds, reaching out a hand that lands on a tiny chubby stomach. “Not a good place to be running right now, munchkin.”

He sets aside the hammer, setting it down as far out of the way as possible, and scoops up the four year old with perfect shimmering ringlets currently doing her best to give Casey a mild heart palpitation.

“I told you the back stairs were off limits, didn’t I?”

Her tiny teeth sink into her bottom lip and she shrugs with unconvincing innocence. “Maybe.”

‘Maybe’ is her answer for everything these days. He’d like to have a talk with the child who taught her that word. A four year old doesn’t need to know loophole words like that. Especially not his four year old. His is a devious little risk taker who looks deceptively like a small innocent angel.

“Morgan!” comes a tired yell through the open back door. A second later, Sylvie’s worried face comes into view. Though, that worry becomes an affectionate eye roll when she spots their daughter in his arms. “You just can’t stay away from him can you?” she asks their daughter with a chuckle.

Morgan ignores Sylvie’s observation and turns in his arms to focus on Matt. She fiddles with buttons on his henley as she speaks. “Daddy, I made you something. Wanna see?”

“If I come see, will you stay inside while I finish up out here?” He asks her with a skeptical stare.

She nods, curls bouncing and blue eyes shining excitedly. “Promise! Let’s go, daddy! Go!” She orders as she points through the open back door and into the house.

“Okay, where are we going?” He asks as he passes Sylvie with a shared amused glance.

“Drew’s room! I wanted him to see too!”

He puts her down once they cross the threshold and she takes off down the hall to the nursery. Sylvie tugs his hand to get him to hang back.

“Brace yourself,” she warns him. “She’s about to pull out her pout and her big eyes and we both know how you get around those. Let me just remind you, she has you wrapped around her tiny chubby little finger. Do not give in.”

He chuckles and shakes his head dismissively. “I’m not that bad,” he argues.

Sylvie’s eyes widen and she looks as though she wants to say something else, but ultimately she simply smiles at him and waves him on ahead of her. “Whatever you say, Matt.” She laughs mutely at him and repeats herself. “Whatever you say.”

They step into the room and instinctively Matt drifts toward the crib. He glances down at the tiny wriggling baby, hands scrunched around his still wrinkly face. He smiles and gently rubs his son’s belly.

“How you doing, buddy?” He asks, hoping for a glimpse of a smile. Drew hasn’t quite gotten there yet. Though Sylvie swears she saw a genuine smile once, Matt’s pretty sure it was gas.

“Mommy, daddy,” Morgan announces as she stands between two pictures she’s taped to the wall opposite Drew’s crib. “Drew and me would like a puppy.”

Sylvie presses her lips together with barely restrained amusement. “You…and Drew would like a puppy? Are you sure about that?”

“Yes,” she says as she neatly folds her hands across her back, like a professor preparing for a lecture.

Matt suddenly sees a flash of her going off to college and feels a pang of something in his chest. He’s not sure what it is, but he knows it’s telling him to enjoy the moment. She won’t be this little forever.

“And how do you know this?” He asks, genuinely curious.

“I drawed him a picture of a puppy and he liked it. So he wants a puppy too,” Morgan declares as if it should be the most obvious answer in the world.

“Ah,” Sylvie says with a soft chuckle and a nod. “Makes sense. Please, continue.”

Matt scubs a hand over his face to get control of his own impending laughter and shares a delighted grin with his wife.

“This,” she says as she dramatically stabs a finger at a picture of a frowning stick figure family drawn in blue crayon. “Is us with no puppy. See how sad we are? I drawed Drew crying. I know he’s always crying but, trust me, this crying is sad crying.”

“Wow,” Matt replies, feigning concern. “That looks pretty bad, yeah. And the other picture?” He asks as he points to the drawing in red crayon.

“This!” she tells him, beaming at him with a smile that looks exactly like Sylvie’s. “Is us with a puppy! Look! I drawed the puppy! I drew a dalmatian so he can ride in the firetruck with daddy! And now we’re all happy! Even baby Drew. I drawed him crying again but that’s just cause he’s hungry. So, see? We have to get a puppy so we’ll be happy!” She stops, points wide watery eyes at him and folds her hands under chin. “Right, daddy? Please?”

She draws out the please and sticks out her bottom lip and dammit if it doesn’t almost rip the word yes right out of his throat.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Sylvie staring at him with a smug smirk. He knows she’s just waiting for him to cave. Thankfully, his beautiful compassionate wife takes pity on him.

“We’ll think about it, sweetheart, okay?”

Morgan sighs with her whole body and slumps her shoulders as she nods glumly. “Okay.”

“Honey, why don’t you go turn on Paw Patrol for a little while, okay? Daddy needs to get back to work and I need to feed your brother.”

Her mood suddenly brightens, complete with a springy hop. “I get extra TV time?”

Sylvie smiles and nods but follows it with a stern reminder. “But just two episodes. So choose wisely, munchkin. Copy?”

“Copy, Chief!” Morgan yells with an excited salute. Calling Sylvie Chief started as an inside joke between him and Sylvie. He told her once that if their home was a Firehouse then she’d the Battalion Chief and it stuck. Over the years, it seems Morgan’s followed his example. “Can I go turn it on now?”

“Have at it,” Matt says as he sweeps an arm across the open nursery doorway. “Backyards off limits till I say so,” he reminds her as she skips off toward the living room. Once she’s gone, Matt takes a step closer to their daughter’s crayon artwork and studies them carefully.

“Matt,” Sylvie starts. The warning in her tone is obvious so he knows what’s coming next. “You are not seriously considering getting our four year old and our newborn a puppy, are you?”

He turns to face her with an overly wide smile. “No, of course not.” He leaves one beat of silence before he can’t hold it in any longer and has to change his story completely. “But…Ritter’s been volunteering at a dalmatian rescue–”

Sylvie breaks out into hysterical laughter, effectively cutting him off. “God, you are such a sap for her!”

“Yeah, well, she has your eyes and your smile so I can’t really help it. Those eyes and that smile should always be happy,” he admits as he reaches for her waist and pulls her into his chest. He chuckles to himself as he contemplates his own words. “Damn. I never stood a chance, did I?”

She shakes her head at him but never once stops smiling. “No, no you didn’t.”

This would be the moment where she could put an end to this dog idea. All she has to do is say the world and he’ll drop it. But she doesn’t. Secretly, he thinks she wants to spoil their kid too – despite giving him hell for it.

“God, I love you. Even if you spoil our daughter every chance you get,” She scolds half heartedly as she dips her face closer and closer to his. She steals a lingering kiss, and then pulls back to look him in the eyes. “But if you get her dog you’ll have to fix the fence in the backyard. Some of the boards are loose.”

He thinks about it for a moment and then shrugs one shoulder. “I can do that. Easy. I even have some extra lumber left over from a job. It’s in the back of my truck.”

Sylvie snickers through a resigned sigh and then completely caves. “Fine, you fix the fence and I’ll call Ritter after I feed the baby.”

“Now look who didn’t stand a chance?” He asks her teasingly.

“You’re lucky I love you and that our daughter is impossibly cute.”

He drops a grateful kiss to her temple and then meets his wife’s bemused gaze with an earnest expression. “Trust me. I know. I’m the luckiest bastard in all of Chicago.”

And that’s the God’s honest truth.

#brettsey #chicago fire #brett x casey #matt x sylvie #emdeedot45 #prompt game #fanfic #my fic #angellwings writes

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areyoureadyforsomemeatballz · 5 years

Text

Cast Away (3): I’ll Be Right Back

Summary: After a mission gone awry, you end up stranded on a deserted island. While you know that you have the skills to survive in the desolate paradise, you’re not sure if your heart will.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1,500

Warnings: Mentions of Bucky’s torture while with Hydra (specifically medical experimentation), swearing, two dumbasses arguing (but which two am I talking about?), If I missed something please don’t hesitate to let me know.

A/N: I graduate in two days! Which means I actually have a bit of free time to write, hence the much-awaited update to Bucky on the beach. I’ve missed talking with you guys, please scream with me in the comments! What do you want to see next?

The walk back to the lagoon takes no time at all, neither does filling up the bucket of cool water. You tap your thumb against your thigh and look back to the path that will lead you to the beach. Back to Barnes. You stumble over your feet as you find yourself turning in the opposite direction. You drop the bucket to the forest floor and take off towards the cliffs on the opposite end of the water.

You laugh to yourself as you wade through the edge of the shimmering pool. You pause as you walk, looking for anything that might be useful. As you reach the other end you find a small outcropping of rocks that gives way to a covered structure. This would work as a shelter, you think. It would definitely keep you dry from the rain if it started up again.

Thundering footsteps and the frantic calls of your name break you out of your thoughts and you flip around in time to see Bucky break through the trees near you. His chest is heaving, and his blazing eyes are wild as they settle on you. You can’t help but straighten up under his piercing gaze.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He shouts. “I’ve been- you were… You said you’d be right back.”

You raise your eyebrow at him and cross your arms. “You didn’t seem to care much.”

“You could’ve been hurt! Dead even. I told you not to wander off.”

“I’m not helpless, you dick,” you seethe. “I’m just as capable as you are.”

Bucky plops down onto the rocky ground and looks down at his hands as he evens out his breathing. “I didn’t mean-”

His mouth snaps shut as his eyes follow you as you settle on an overturned log. You take a deep breath and lower your voice. “What did you mean then? I’d really like to understand, Barnes.”

“You called me Bucky earlier.”

“And?”

He lets out a shaky breath and worries his lip between his teeth. “I can go seventeen days without water before my body starts to go to shit.”

The air is punched out of your lungs and your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth. You want to reach out for Bucky’s hand, it’s resting on his knee well within your reach. You force yourself to stay still and look into his eyes, silently urging him to finish.

He drops his head and his eyes are unfocused as he stares at the ground. “They wanted to know what the serum did to me. There were other experiments, most were probably worse than that one. I can’t- I don’t remember them all. But, I can remember exactly what that one felt like.”

Your lips are set in a grim line and you dig your fingers into your covered thighs, unable to take your eyes off him. He looks smaller than he ever has in all the time that you’ve known him.

“I did something wrong,” he whispers, his voice barely carrying to you despite how close he is. “A mission. I remembered something, missed a target. So, they handed me over to the scientists…”

His eyes squeeze closed, and he rubs his sweaty palms across his thighs. You reach out and place your hand on his knee. His eyes snap open and his shoulders collapse in on themselves.

“I remember sobbing- Nothing came out…” The silence between each of his words is deafening. “I had no tears. My body couldn’t spare the loss… Every second that passed all I could think about was how I’d do anything for a drop of water. I’d have- God, I’d have… That was before the pain started.”

His face tightens, and he goes quiet. You’re not sure how long passes before your squeezing his knee gently.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” you murmur, knowing it’s not enough. Nothing you could say would be. “I’m so sorry.”

Bucky brings his eyes up to meet yours, something swimming deep in them. “I’m sorry. That I snapped at you, I’m sorry.”

You drop your hand from his knee after a beat too long, not noticing the flash of emotion that crosses Bucky’s face. You look down at your hands, ignoring the heat you can feel in your cheeks.

“You don’t have to-”

He puts his hand up to stop you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I do. You didn’t know. How could you have known?”

You swallow thickly and look back towards the cave, clearing your throat. “I think we might be able to use this as shelter.”

His steely gaze is finally off you as he appraises your proposed shelter. “We need to be closer to the beach. That’ll be the easiest place to spot us from the air.”

“The beach won’t give us any protection from a storm and it’ll cut us off from our water supply.”

His eyes narrow to slits and turns back to you. “Getting rescued is our top priority.”

“If you want the team to rescue corpses be my guest.”

“A little rain never killed anyone.”

You throw your hands up in the air and turn away from him. “It was a fucking hurricane!”

Bucky rakes his fingers through his hair and groans, muttering under his breath. “Always fucking difficult.”

You whip around and stomp closer to him, close enough to feel the heat rolling off of him. “Just because I don’t blindly follow your every command that makes me difficult?”

He scowls and his eyes crinkle in frustration. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“Sorry that your dazzling baby blues and sexy scowl don’t work on me, jackass,” you huff. “Oh wait, no I’m not!”

“Have you ever been in a survival situation, sweetheart?”

“Have you, princess?”

His jaw clenches so tight that you swear you can hear his teeth shattering, and a smirk works its way onto your face. He sucks in a harsh breath, causing his chest to brush against yours. You stand your ground as he glares at you.

Bucky swivels away from you, leaving you slack-jawed as he pads over to the tree line. Your feet catch up with your thoughts and you race after him. He’s hauling a stack of branches over his shoulder when you find him.

“If I’m sleeping in that pitiful little cave, then I’m not sleeping on rocks.”

You force your jaw to not drop as you take in his words. “Anything I can do to help?”

“You’re nice when you get your way.”

“You just realized I was right.”

He rolls his eyes, his lips quirking up in a small smile after he turns away from you. “Grab some palm leaves, will you?”

“Tony!”

Steve charges through the closing elevator doors, almost barreling into Tony and Bruce. His red-rimmed eyes dart between the two men.

“We’re doing everything we can, Steve.”

“So, nothing’s changed?”

Bruce adjusts his wire-frame glasses with a sigh. “It’s been less than a day.”

Steve’s heavy body collapses against the metal wall with a thud. “Son of a bitch.”

Tony raises his eyebrow and gives a tired grin. “Language?”

Steve’s eyes turn murderous and Bruce steps in between the two men. “We’re all working around the clock, despite Tony’s best effort to appear blasé.” He glances down at his watch. “Speaking of, we’re all late for the meeting.”

The trio shuffles into the conference room to find Natasha with her feet propped up on the table. She raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow when she notices them.

Nat drops her phone to the table and sits up straighter. “Any news?”

“Boss? I’ve got something,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s Irish lilt fills the room.

“You should’ve said something, F.R.I.”

“And break up that pissing match in the elevator?” F.R.I.D.A.Y. teases. “Don’t worry, Captain, I’ve just discovered it.”

Bucky’s voice cuts through the room. “Copy, Steve-” the recording is overtaken by a harsh static. “Copy.”

Steve’s spine goes stock straight. “When was that recorded?”

“Seconds after the blast, if I’m not mistaken,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. responds. “And I never am. Mr. Barnes sent it through the comms, but the storm interfered with the signal. I’ve just been able to piece it together.”

“They’re alive,” Tony chokes out.

A crack of lightning splits across the night sky, seconds later the heavens open with a spectacular amount rain. The fire in front of you crackles and you breathe a sigh of relief when the freezing water doesn’t reach you inside the cave.

“Not one word,” Bucky grumbles from beside you.

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“Somehow I don’t believe that for a second.”

You grin at him and lean back on the elevated bed of leaves that he had created. He nudges your thigh and you pass him the jug of drinking water.

“Barnes?”

He grunts in response as he lays down, his eyes slipping closed.

“Told you so.”

“Shuddup.”

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casseythebee · 5 years

Text

Mirror Mine (Peter Parker x reader AU)

Title: Mirror Mine

Prompt: Soulmate AU where when your soulmate writes something on their skin it shows up on yours and vice versa

Summary: You go with your dad to one of Tony Stark’s party and there you meet him

Pairing: Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Words: 1.8k-ish

Warning: slight swearing (blame Bucky “What the hell” Barnes, and fluff

A/N: I know reader inserts usually have your age but in the story, the reader is on the younger side just so it makes sense with the story, sorry. Most of the ships aren’t cannon but just roll with it.

“Absolutely not.”

Your father looked instantly pissed when you walked into the room. You were heading to one of the biggest nights of your father’s career. It was one of Tony Stark’s big parties and your father had been invited to spark up some business deal or whatever, you honestly had no clue. He was supposed to bring your mother as a plus one, but your little brother had fallen ill with a slight cold, and she wanted to stay with him.

“What’s wrong?” you ask throwing your hands in the air and rolling your eyes.

He gestures to your clothes and says in a disgusted tone of voice, “There is no way you are wearing that. This is a big night for me and I need you to look amazing and act amazingly.”

A tight red plaid mini skirt fit snugly on your hips, under the skirt black tights hugged your toned legs, and a black crop top accentuated your curves. You had smacked blood-red lipstick, a messy braid fell down your shoulders along with a golden chain necklace. And to tie the whole outfit together, a nice black leather jacket.

“I knew this would happen so I went out last night and picked out a dress, let's go try it on,” your mom chimes in.

“Okay but please be quick, ladies,” your dad says.

“The dress is gorgeous and I can redo your makeup to match, oh you are going to look so pretty!” your mom exclaims leading you into her room.

“Names,” a cold voice demands to your father.

“(Y/D/F/N) and my plus one is my daughter (Y/F/N),” your father reassures him handing him the invitation he got at work. It’s a small, ivory piece of paper with swirly, gold letters printed on it.

“Isn’t she a little young?” the buff bouncer asks tipping down his glasses and looking you up and down.

“That my kind sir is none of your damn business.”

With your arm linked through your fathers, you guys walk into the Avengers compound and head through the all-white front foyer- your father's shoes making clacking noises while your ballet shoes are utterly silent- and head to the glass elevator. Your father presses a higher number, number 10, as the elevator travels upwards you catch quick glances of the other rooms, they all look like living spaces, and one sterile-looking hallway with many doors branching off.

When the elevator finally stops you guys step out of the elevator and look out into the room. It is filled with people, some you recognize some you don’t, the girls all wearing elegant dresses, and the men suits and tuxedos. There is a massive bar on one wall, some couches scattered around everywhere, a wall made entirely of windows, a DJ booth on another wall, speakers placed at random everywhere, and a dance floor in the middle.

“Okay so the objective is to mingle around with as many people as possible, okay?” your dad explains.

You give him a light shake of your head and he drops your arm and struts over to a group of people, completely at ease. Not sure what to do you follow him towards the group.

When he gets to the group they all exclaim his name and welcome him in like they’ve known him for years.

“I said go mingle, and be polite, and just make a good example.” He shoves you off lightly.

Not sure what he means by make a good impression you head over to the bar to get a drink. Noticing how young you are the bartender completely ignores you by serving everyone else around you. No one notices that you are there and does nothing to help you.

“Can I get a glass of champagne and an old-fashioned?” a smoky voice asks.

You look up to see none other than James Buchanan Barnes the former Winter Soldier. He has his hair slick back and a plain black tux. “You are James Buchanan Barnes,” you marvel. Then you shake your head and add, “I’m sorry if that was rude.” You look down at the bar ashamed of your behavior.

“Hey, it’s fine. Really you’d be surprised how many people here look at me and see the terrifying ‘Winter Soldier’. It’s nice to meet someone who sees me for me.”

“Oh yeah, I know none of that ‘Winter Soldier’ stuff is your fault. I mean you are a great person so I guess that’s all that matters,” you say with a shrug.

He chuckles and asks, “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Oh no, I can’t drink! I’m too young to drink. I’m just trying to get water.”

“Thank you. Can I also get water please?”

James Buchanan Barnes takes a sip of his old fashioned and asks, “Wait if you are so young what the hell are you doing at one of Tony Stark’s parties?”

“Well my dad is here to make a good impression to these people for his job and my mom would have been his date but she had to stay home to take care of my brother. So he brought me.” You punctuate the sentence with a shrug.

“Well how about you come over and meet the gang? Come with me.” He starts walking away but adds, “You can call me Bucky by the way.”

Remembering what your dad said about being polite you promise yourself not to drool over the heroes and make a fool of yourself. Bucky leads you over to one of the couches, there are some people sitting on it some around it. You recognize all of them even in their fancy clothing.

“Okay so this is Nat she is Russian and angry, don’t cross her. Tony the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. Stevie the blond beauty.” Steve’s face blushes bright red. “Thor the muscular alien king. Loki the trickster he will try to kill you at some point, but it is okay because he is really just a softy.” Loki gives him a grunt and a dirty look. “Bruce, he is also a big softy, but don’t make him angry. Sam he really sucks, we just hang out with him because we pity him. Rhodes now him we all love. Peper, now she is the best, like the best, we all love her. Nick, he scares me, but I’m sure there is a sweetie inside under all of the angry shell. Clint, he is dumb and shoots arrows. Scott, he can make himself small and do close up magic. And everyone this is… I actually don’t know.”

“My name is (Y/N). And it’s nice to meet all of you. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Nonsense, we were just discussing soulmates. Where were you, Mr. Blond Beauty?” Tony teases.

“I… was uh saying that when Bucky was regaining his memory, he would write little notes on his hands and they would show up on mine. It was kind of like a little peek into his head.”

“Yeah, I get Stevie’s doodles on my skin,” Bucky swoons. They are staring lovingly into each other's eyes and everyone but you seems to find it disgusting and annoying.

“Ignoring that, sometimes I see equations and whatnot show up on my skin, and I think it’s kind of cute seeing what Jane is working on when I’m not around,” Thor admits with a shrug.

“Same!” Pepper and Natasha sigh at the same time, and that earns a chuckle out of everyone, a smirk from Tony, and a blush from Bruce.

“Yeah every once and a while I get equations on my hands when Hope needs to remember stuff,” Scott adds rolling up his sleeve to show everyone.

“What about you, (Y/N)? Any cool stuff on your skin?” Tony asks turning to you.

Every eye in the group is staring at you. You can feel all of them beating down on you. You can’t mess up and embarrass your family so you simply say, “Yeah I guess, a phone number and a name here and there. Most of the time it is just due dates for projects at school.”

“Sorry, I’m late Mr. Stark. Everyone else, sorry,” says a cute little squeaky voice coming up behind you. The person the voice belongs to sits down next to you, almost on top of you. He has soft brown eyes, fluffy brown hair, a sharp jawline, and a smile that could light up the room.

“Hey kid, nice suit,” Mr. Stark says, admiration in his eyes.

“Where have you been, Pete?” Steve asks, leaning over you to tousle his hair.

His face turns ruby red. “I had to wait for Aunt May to get out of work so she could drive me.” The boy scans the room his eyes stopping at you, he looks you up and down his jaw practically dropping to the floor.

A navy blue ball gown is fanned out around you. The dress itself is a bit poofy at the bottom and floor-length, and it is decorated with lace appliques. White eyeshadow tinted with gold sparkles dusts your eyes and lip gloss coats your lips. You and your mom decide on just doing natural hair just using hairspray to keep it in a position you like.

The boy's brown eyes skim over you again, stopping at your breasts before moving on to your lips, your nose, your shimmering eyes, and lands on your hair framing your face.

“Hi,” he breathes a little smile on his face. “I’m Peter by the way.”

“I’m (Y/N).” You look down your skin tinged red as a blush creeps up your neck and onto your cheeks.

“How about you, sweetie?” Natasha asks looking at Peter. “What kind of stuff shows up on your skin?”

“Oh my gosh, it is the most beautiful thing,” he gushes, “swirls and flowers and all kinds of designs. I love it every time I wake up there is a new one.” He pauses. “One night I was up late doing homework and I sat there for almost an hour watching the ink flow onto my skin. It was a few minutes until 4 by the time I couldn’t stand being up that long so I collapsed and by the time I woke up there was pen marks up my left arm almost like a sleeve tattoo.”

You run your hand up your arm and goosebumps appear.

“What is that on your arm, (Y/N)?” Bruce asks gesturing towards you.

A surprised noise escapes your mouth and you look down reading the marks on the backside of your palm. They read, “Don’t forget to ask Tony about the rose for Aunt May”.

“Um, it’s… just, um,” you stutter.

Next to you, Peter’s eyes go wide as he reads and he slaps his hands over his mouth in surprise. Everyone can clearly see what is written on his hand matches what is on yours.

“Well, you know what that means!” Tony whoops.

Next thing you know you and Peter are caught in a dog pile as everyone in the group is on top of you.

The rest of the night you and Peter take turns answering each other's and the rest of the group’s questions as a “get to know you”.

#peter parker #tony stark #Steve Rogers #bruce banner #natasha romanoff #Bucky Barnes #thor #loki odinson #scott lang #james rhodes #pepper potts #clint barton #nick furry #sam willson #fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfiction #peter parker x reader

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hardyimagines · 5 years

Text

Part 1 — SOLD!

———

may I ask you to write Something about a girl who is sold to alfie (by her father, boyfriend or else) to repay a debt, the girl is terrified by him the whole story, and he won’t soften because of her, he is as harsh and tough as in the show.

Part 2 Part 3

———

The bounds tied around your wrists were securely knotted in an impossible to escape manner. It was rope. Braided strands tied so tightly around your flesh that the sharp wiry strands that stuck out in multiple places were embedded deep within your skin leaving you to wince each time the leash-like material was yanked on. The alley you were being pulled through was dark and silent apart from the quiet thudding that echoed throughout the small space as you were led along the pavement and toward an abandoned building in the decreasing distance. The exterior was gray and rundown. Windows were cracked in some places, others were completely shattered and gone. The stars that twinkled above were too beautiful for the angry world below to be able to look up at and enjoy. Your gaze was pulled away from the night’s sky when you were pulled forward and indoors at an even harsher speed.

Eli, your boyfriend, stood in front of you with no regret in his orbs. His eyes were so dark brown they looked almost black. His gaze was infused with worry and a little bit of hope, but no regret and he offered no explanation as he cradled the opposite end of the rope. You’d been fast asleep in bed and then all of a sudden hauled up and off of the warm, comfy mattress and jerked into the cold streets. Eli hadn’t even bothered to grab a coat for you, he’d merely led you outdoors in your nightgown. Neither of you looked to each other. Your heart ached with betrayal and his heart ached with hopeful relief.

Months ago, before he’d met you, he’d made the poor mistake of screwing over a few gangsters. That term wasn’t used lightly. These were criminals, dangerous men who wouldn’t hesitate before taking illegal actions to settle debts. Eli had been trying his hardest to earn back money to pay back said gangsters, but there were too many of them and he was running out of time. When he’d seen you, so beautiful and pure and willing to converse with him, a complete stranger, he’d decided you’d be the perfect pay off. Or at least brief pay off. He’d approached and within a week you’d fallen for him. A charming smile and smooth words were all it took for you to become attracted to the man you hated so much in that moment. This was the second time you’d been used to settle a form of payment, only the first time you’d been given away had been by your beloved father. He only had one child, you, and he, without hesitation, had sold you to a bloke about four years ago when you were in your later teens. It had been the worst months of your life. It was a time that was infused with cheap meals and stomach aches. An uncomfortable environment to sleep and an impossible environment to get clean in. The water stunk which meant you felt filthy even when you bathed. The man who’d purchased you had used you as nothing more than a punching bag, something to let his anger out on. You worried for nights that his physical abuse would turn sexual, but it never did. Now, you found yourself in the same situation. Being sold as an object was a way to make a woman feel small and useful in such a horrible manner. The door in the corner opened with a loud moan, an irritating sound which made you want to clasp your hands over your ears until it was finished. The ties on your wrists made that impossible though, so you stood with your shoulders squared and your head forward. Despite your strong, sturdy stance, the tremble in your bottom lip and closed eyes gave away the fear that welled up inside you. No man blamed you. They wouldn’t want to be sold to a gent either. Especially not the one sauntering into the room. Alfie Solomons, a gangster in Camden Town, had been threatening him for months. Men could be seen lurking over his shoulders, revolvers in hand as they silently warned Eli that if he didn’t pay Alfie back for all the money he’d taken then it would be his life at stake. The cold room grew even colder when a foreign voice flooded the entire building. It was deep, hoarse and gruff. The accent was thick, definitely cockney, and he dropped a swear word into his sentence after almost every other word.

“Fuckin’ hell, mate. You could not have picked a fucking shittier place, right, to have this little fucking meeting.” Alfie Solomons made his way along the room and toward the pair of you. You didn’t dare look though, your hearing was enough aid to see what you didn’t want to. It sounded like he had men with him, no doubt accompanying him in this meeting to ensure that Eli didn’t try and pull anything. “Right, mate, so, I’m here, ain’t I? Talk.” Alfie came to a stop about three feet away. His hands sunk into his deep pockets, fingers lazily tracing the chains he had tucked away inside his slacks. His blue eyes ran along the length of Eli, a brief inspection to see if there was an outline of a weapon. He didn’t see one. All he saw was the rope the boy held. Following the length of it which led to you, he cocked a slow brow.

“Alfie.” Eli finally spoke. “This is Y/N. My gift to you. I don’t have the money. But I will. But im giving you her — for free. I need more time so I figured I’d pay you the only way I can.”

Dried tears stained your cheeks leaving a sticky trail from your eyes all the way down to your jaw. The dress you wore was thin and the straps barely hid your goosebump-covered flesh. Your nipples were hardened and visible through the cloth. You felt naked and vulnerable beneath the men’s stares and yet, you still didn’t open your eyes in order to face the man in front of you. Hearing his voice was enough.

The previous time you’d been sold it had been horrible. You’d been silent throughout the sale and you’d figured he’d be sweet to you since you weren’t disobedient. That wasn’t the case. No matter how good. How sweet. How obeying and willing you were to listen to his every command, he rewarded you with beatings until he was bored of you. He hadn’t sold you to anyone else, he’d merely told you to go away and you’d listened with a wide smile. You’d left your old town and moved to Camden which didn’t seem to be the best choice right now.

Alfie was still staring you down. You were very pretty. You held your head high, a sign of confidence and bravery. He didn’t care about the tears, nor did he care about the way you shut your eyes. You should’ve been cowering away and then he wouldn’t have dared take you with him. He’d never taken a woman as payment before, but he supposed there was a first time for everything. Brushing his thumb along his bottom lip, he took another step forward.

“Right, mate, take the ropes off her, yeah, she’s not a fucking dog and I can’t have my girl, innit,” He waited for a nod from Eli before continuing. “to be injured.” Eli scrambled toward you. He wasn’t mumbling apologies or asking if you were okay. He roughly pulled the ties from your hands before rolling the bound up into a ball and shoving it into his pocket. Alfie smirked slowly as you lowered your arms. “Right, boys.” He snapped his fingers. Your eyes opened at the sound of Eli’s sharp wince. The men who’d accompanied Alfie were suddenly hammering their fists into Eli’s face. His stomach, ribs, back, legs, whatever they could hit, they did. You tore your eyes away from the scene when the man who stood in front of you nudged your leg with his cane. “Lass.” You finally looked up at him. The very bravery he’d seen in your stance shimmered just as noticeably in your gaze. It was watery and tears continued to brew in your big eyes, but it was there and it made a little bubble of pride form in his chest. His tongue slid over his lips before in one swift movement, he gripped your forearm and pulled you toward him. “You get in the car, right, and don’t move a muscle. Just sit fucking still and wait until I’m ready to go.” As you stared up at him, your pink lips pressed together, twitching downward. This man was too hard to read. But his name was far too familiar and that alone made you bob your head with an obedient nod before moving toward the car. You’d do anything to get away from his heated gaze and into some sort of warmth.

Said warmth didn’t last too long. The men outside the car piled in shortly after Alfie had told you to go. Your boyfriend’s body was left limp on the cement, blood staining his features. Nose, broken. Lips, cracked and split. He looked unrecognizable as you peered out the window and toward his unmoving form. He wasn’t dead, you noted, when you saw his back twitch with his ragged inhale. The sound of the car door slamming drew your focus away from that man and instead to the one at your side. Alfie. You’d made a mental note when you’d first heard his name. The backseat wasn’t too spacious, so the second he got comfy, grumbling incoherently, his knee bumped yours, cane situated between his thighs. Everything seemed to be an unspoken agreement. Alfie went silent and the driver took off. You watched him from your peripheral, attempting not to quiver as much as you desperately wanted to. That brave facade you’d had would need to stick with you for some time. Being weak wasn’t admirable — and to the rare one’s who might show you some pity well, he didn’t seem like the type.

—

The car was cold, despite all the body warmth it held. Being with strangers, going to an unknown place, being sold as if you weren’t a human being — it simply sucked all that happiness out of your body and left you feeling like a block of ice. No pumping heart or position emotions. No soul. Just a body. A body with a blank face and empty eyes. You’d rather be dead than suffer through abuse again.

The car came to a jolting stop. You extended your arm to catch yourself, effectively preventing your face from slamming into the back of the passenger seat. Alfie climbed out, cane meeting the pavement first and then his feet followed. You were stiff in your seat. You remembered from your original purchaser to wait for instructions. Wait until you were told what to do. But Alfie didn’t ever say ‘get out’, he just stood and waited. It was common sense.

You piled out of the car and shyly made your way around. No other man looked at you apart from him and that was probably wise on their part. An owner didn’t enjoy his belongings being ogled. The space between the two of you grew smaller and smaller as you approached him, only coming to a stop when you reached a few inches from him. Rules would surely be explained at some point in time, but you felt, as he stared at you with a look of hesitance in his gaze, that he’d never done this before. He pinched the sleeve of your dress and drew you toward him before twisting around and leading you into the tall establishment behind him.

Again. No one looked toward you. Not even as you were hauled down a long corridor and toward a flight of stairs. Working men didn’t stray from their task and even people who needed to speak to Alfie, they only looked at him. No greetings or introductions, just silence. Alfie opened the door to his office before instructing you with grumbled and hand gestures to go to the corner. He seemed a bit on edge, like he had something to handle. But it didn’t matter to you. Stuck alone with him, that was when most men like him — men who accepted women as a form of payment — were weakest. Men like that enjoyed being powerful in front of an audience, not in privacy. So you took a chance and you begged for some leniency.

“Sir.. please have mercy on me.” You whispered breathily. “I’ve been sold before and I.. I don’t think I can take going through what I had to previously.” Alfie was rummaging through a drawer as you spoke, blue eyes taking over his cluttered belongings. Your mouth opened though and the words that spewed from your lips were instantly regretted. He looked at you, spectacles low on the bridge of his nose as he stared, unwaveringly.

You realized in that moment that power radiated off of him. Alone or in a group, he wasn’t fearful. He was the owner. He was in charge. He was not to be messed with. A man, one like your last owner, would have chortled at your words. Kept his distance. Brushed you off. Alfie, you could tell as he stepped around his desk, ceasing his task for the moment, was a virgin to having a woman. There was nothing in his gaze but authority.

“Mercy?” His harsh chuckle shook the room as it left his chest. The sound was deep and overpowering, a sound that made you quiver on the spot. “Mercy,” he laughed a little softer now before approaching you. His wide palm opened completely before lifting to your cheeks. He squeezed the flesh that resided there closing his hand around your face so that your lips pushed together. You closed your eyes, afraid of the gangster that stood before you. “You and I, pet, we’re going to have a lot of fun.” He whispered lowly. His hot breaths danced across the flesh of your cheeks before tickling your ear. Wringing your hands together in front of you, you silently pleaded for the man you’d just been sold to to be kind. To be gentle. To be nothing like the last man you’d been given to. “Mercy is a pathetic thing to beg for, pet.“

———————————————————————

Part 2 Part 3

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#tom hardy x reader #tom hardy imagine #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons x reader #peaky blinders imagine

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chaoticneutralwriter · 5 years

Text

Another Variable

You don’t think he’s much of a demon as he is a worm since he seems to have quite the talent in worming his way into your life. Now that he’s passed the Spice Girls’ code of conduct, you should’ve known that it’s only fair that you would do the same. Only, you weren’t ready for it.

guardian demon!Jimin x reader

genre: slice of life, slow-burn, fluff, comedy. supernatural

warnings: strong language, memes, and pop culture references that need to be taken away from me.

word count: 8.7k

Straight continuation from Distance and the Heart

Related Works: see Masterlist

A/N: ohhh boyyy ummm not much to say other than this just keeps getting longer and that I don’t if I’m doing it well :DD

You’re caught like a deer in the headlights; your mind blanking because your brain cells have called for a state of emergency in the form of running around like headless chickens in a panic.

All two of them.

Jaehee continues to openly gawk at your guardian demon that looks too much like a world-renowned Korean celebrity to be a coincidence, at least to her untrained eyes. You’re struggling to come up with a plausible excuse for it, your own eyes flitting nervously to Jimin in a silent plea for help but he seems way too amused at the situation; more than he should be considering he’s the one who’s the cause of it. In fact, he knows he’s made an oopsie but seeing you struggling like this makes it worth it. You see your window of opportunity closing, literally see it slipping as the longer neither of you say anything, the more Jaehee’s eyes begin to widen, mouth slowly forming into an ‘O’ of realization like she’s just on the cusp of pinpointing exactly where she’s seen him from.

God this is it…this is how it all ends.

But as if sensing your despair (or maybe taking pity on you), your guardian demon finally makes a move. With a deliberate tilt of his head, he flashes her a million dollar smile with charm levels reaching over 9000 and as smooth as a cucumber says, “I don’t think we’ve met before.”

You see the sentence put Jaehee’s thoughts to a halt for a moment, her eyebrows scrunching up in confusion. The gears are turning in her head and you watch on, feeling a sweat beginning to break out but as you sneak a glance at Jimin, he’s still unbothered like he’s got this one in the bag. Jaehee brings herself back again, eyes focusing in on Jimin and with determination she rebuttals with, “No, I swear I’ve seen you from somewhere…like…on TV or the internet or something…”

She trails off in thought, her piercing gaze drifting off for a bit as if the files of her memories were floating above her head, her mind sifting through them. Jimin remains silent, completely relaxed as he waits patiently for Jaehee to arrive to some other conclusion. You, on the other hand, have short-circuited into becoming a statue, muscles stiff and on edge because it feels as if you’re trying to prevent a bomb from detonating by tiptoeing around it (i.e. being useless). Perhaps it’s too late to make that analogy now because before you know it, you see Jaehee’s figurative light bulb go off on her head and the next words she exclaims a little too loudly.

“I remember now! You look like one of the Korean boy group member that Y/N follows! BTS right?!” Her excited eyes dart towards you as if to confirm but all you manage is a croaky sound akin to a dying cat. Jaehee powers on regardless like she’s on a roll.

“Gosh I don’t remember his name but I swear you look just like him! Um…” She’s snapping her fingers, trying to jog her memory some more, muttering to herself. “It starts with a ‘J’ like…Jay, Jo…Ugh! He’s your favourite too right?”

At the moment, you wished he wasn’t.

Jaehee continues to list off variations of ‘J’ names off the top of her head until they start to sound more like something resembling Jimin’s name. “Jumin! Or is it Jimin? Is it either one of them?”

You’re horrified but also impressed with Jaehee, being that despite blabbering to her about BTS whenever she catches you in those moments, you had an inkling that she was only half-listening to you because she wasn’t very interested in them so for her to remember a specific member and placing a name? You’re a little touched. But of all times…. why now?

Jimin doesn’t say anything, and the silence makes the beating of your heart seem all the more deafening to you. He blinks once, then twice, before a slow smile makes its way across his lips.

“Ahh….” He lets out as if he only just realized that he looks like an A-List celebrity. You hate him so much right now but he’s doing a hell of a good job at deflecting Jaehee’s suspicions. “I know who you’re talking about now! Yeah, I get told I look like him a lot…like, all the time.”

Jaehee’s eyes light up with delight at being right as she excitedly proclaims, “I bet you do! Oh my God, have you ever got asked to do those celebrities look-alike gigs? Like TV shows or cameos in movies?”

Jimin lets out a good-natured laugh, a melodious sound with the light tossing of his head that gives both you and Jaehee a clear view of his Adam’s apple bobbing deliciously. You belatedly realize that you’re caught in the line of fire that is Jimin’s demonic charm working its magic to sway Jaehee, the air around shimmering with a smog you feel rather than see. You have to snap out of it; you have to drag yourself out of those crescent shaped eye smiles if you want to make it out of this alive. But it’s just so hard…. Damn it! With great effort however, you tear your eyes away from him, blinking hard to focus in on Jaehee, watching with slight pity at her being reeled into this web of lies.

“Just once or twice, but I have a feeling it might be more often now since BTS is becoming a big thing huh?” And as if to add a finishing blow, he sweeps a hand through his luscious hair with just the right amount of bashfulness that would have anyone, man or woman, swooning. So it’s no surprise that you see that Jaehee’s a goner; wrapped up nicely around your demon guardian’s fingers.

“Yeah….” Jaehee sighs, sounding suspiciously dreamy but all you do is look on in mild amusement and disbelief, managing a stiff smile in your poor attempts to go along with the act. There’s a moment of silence (for Jaehee’s sanity) and it’s then that you finally gather up the nerves to intervene, sensing that your crisis has been averted. You clear your throat as casually as you can which seems to do the trick in snapping Jaehee out of her daze a bit. She finally draws her eyes away from Jimin who you know is super pleased with himself without having to look at him.

“Y-Yeah! So Jaehee, um, I guess I should officially introduce you to Ji—Jumin! He’s uh…the one who saved me that…. one time.”

“Or you can call me Julien, my unofficial English name.” Jimin pipes up from beside you, grinning boyishly as you resist the urge to elbow him in the ribs. Jaehee beams back, eyes going wide again at the new information and you nearly laugh at the way she has to hold herself back from bursting but sort of fails anyways.

“Oh my God! You’re him?! I— Oh wow! Um, I’m Jaehee! Y/N’s roommate and best friend!” She shoots you a not-so-subtle look that clearly screams, ‘GIRL WHAT THE HELL! YOU NEED TO SPILL THIS TEA TO ME ASAP!’ You only offer back a wry smile.

“Nice to finally meet you, Jaehee. I heard a lot about you.” Jimin replies back smoothly, offering his hand to which Jaehee shakes with much enthusiasm. The smile on her face is so wide you think her cheeks would split from the force but as she lets go, her eyes catches sight of one small detail all of you seem to have forgotten.

“OH MY GOD IS THAT MIKE?!”

You nearly jump at her sudden outburst, glancing down to see that indeed, Mike is still lying on the ground, KO’ed with a bloody nose. A nervous laugh escapes you before you can stop it but Jimin, ever the smooth operator, steps in again with his Oscar winning performance.

“Oh! Yeah, I was just in the neighbourhood visiting a friend when I thought I saw Y/N from across the street with this guy. He looks like he was giving her trouble so I stepped in and he got a little…. violent. I mean, I think he had too much to drink but I had no other choice.” He almost sounded apologetic as he rubs the back of his neck, even throws in a sheepish smile. That little shit. Jaehee eats it up of course, her face morphing into one of frantic reassurance.

“No, no, no! No I was just on the phone with Y/N and Mike sounded like he was being a douche. Really, I’m so glad at least you were there to step in before it got bad. Thank you Jumin er— would you rather prefer Julien?”

“Either one is fine.”

She nods with a smile. “Thank you Julien, I really appreciate it. But we still gotta take him home…. I guess.”

“Oh no, no I’ll take care of him; it’s my fault really. You two should head home since it’s getting late.”

At the proclamation, your eyes dart to Jimin alarmed because who knows what ‘take care of him’ actually means with him. He seems to pick up on what you’re thinking because all he does is give you a secretive smirk that tells nothing of his true intentions. It further worries you.

“Are you sure Julien? You don’t have to, like you barely know him. We can just call someone to pick him up with an Uber and he’ll be fine; you don’t have to trouble yourself!”

As much as Jaehee insists however, Jimin waves it all off with a hand and a deceptively angelic smile on his face, lightly pushing you more towards Jaehee in an attempts to send you off on your way quicker. You resist a little because you still don’t trust him being alone with a person whom he very much would want to kill and then tell you it was an ‘accident’ after.

“I’m sure Jaehee, don’t worry! I’ll text Y/N to keep you updated and for sure, if I need your help, I’ll holler okay?”

Jaehee’s hesitancy finally gives way, no doubt from that blinding smile Jimin is giving, and she finally concedes albeit reluctantly, grabbing your arm and tugging you to her side. You stumble, mouth opening and closing like a fish because you don’t want to leave Jimin unsupervised but you also don’t want to have to clean up this mess that is Mike either.

“Okay…if you’re absolutely sure….” She says, dragging the end syllable as a last ditch effort to get Jimin to change his mind. However, the demon holds fast with a confident nod, shifting so that it looks like he’s just about to pick up the still unconscious man on the ground.

“Positive. You two get home safe okay? Text me Y/N when you’ve arrived.” He says cheerily, scooping up Mike by the arm and more or less, swings him up like a sack of potatoes with no consideration to his injuries. Jaehee, with rose coloured glasses, gives one final nod and wave, bidding Jimin farewell and ultimately drags you away from the scene of the crime. You shoot one more glare Jimin’s way over your shoulder only to scowl when he just smiles, eyes crinkled and waves at you cutely until you’re too far to read his face.

Not like you can dwell on it for long either because Jaehee’s on you, like she’s snapped herself out of most of the haze the spell had on her to jerk you forward, effectively gaining your attention and tearing your eyes away from the last of Jimin’s figure.

“Oh. My. GOD! Y/N! Y/N you bitch! Why didn’t you tell me that that was the guy that saved you and you were talking to on and off to the point I thought you totally had a thing going on!” She exclaims, shaking you a bit in her anger but just when you’re about to get on the defensive, her next words immediately dispel any negative feelings bubbling inside of you. “I tried to set you up with someone like Mike for crying out loud! And you had someone like Julien all this time?! Girl what were you thinking?! What was I thinking?!”

You can only let out a huff of laughter, bemused by the whole turn of events as Jaehee continues her zealous, one-sided interrogation on you, asking questions like where did you meet him? How did you meet him? Were there always good-looking guys like that in the city? Tell me your ways! But never really giving you the time or breathing space to answer back. You make it back home in no time though, sending Jaehee off with some satisfactory half-truths. By the time you make it into your room, you’re absolutely drained, mentally and physically. So much so that you had to take the time to lean against your closed door to just shut your eyes and exhale deeply.

But you can’t go to sleep yet. No, not without knowing if your guardian demon with the tendency for murder is behaving himself. So you see to it that you have no choice but to sit awake, on your bed, like you’re a parent waiting to catch their teenager who snuck out for the night red handed. After washing up, you settle to sit in your bed for what you dread to be a long night. Only you didn’t quite foresee one (admittedly, crucial) thing; you were so tired.

It felt like you had just closed your eyes for five seconds but the next time you open them, sunlight was leaking through your blinds. Needless to say, you trip out for a hot second because what the fuck.

“Good morning sunshine.”

You jerk in surprise like you’ve been electrocuted and you let out a whining curse from being startled so suddenly (you barely have your eyes open for crying out loud!) Through your sheets and flyaway hairs, you manage to spot the unmistakable figure of your would-be rebellious teen, sitting in your desk chair like a preening cat.

“Where’ve you been last night!?” You hiss, accidentally putting too much emphasis on the first word before catching yourself from raising your voice any further. You don’t need Jaehee to wake up to this; it’s one thing for her to know of Jimin’s existence now but it’s another having to explain how he managed to break into your room and quite frankly, you’re not in the mood to risk another improv moment with Jimin as the lead actor. Your aforementioned guardian demon does nothing but run a hand through his hair, the locks parting like waves over his forehead before gently falling back perfectly to frame his face. He’s changed out of his outfit from last night, opting for another one of his dark silken shirts that drape loosely on his frame, offering a tantalizing view of his collarbones with his staple black slacks.

It almost distracts you from your interrogation. Almost.

“Why, I was here the entire time cherub. Like the dutiful guardian I am.” He answers you airily, eyes fluttering with feigned innocence. You shoot him a glare, suspicion rolling off you in a way you’re sure he feels it too but you don’t retort back because…. you can’t; you fell asleep before confirming it so this makes it ten times more infuriating because Jimin knows it too if the way he’s biting into his bottom lip to stop himself from laughing is anything to go by. You breathe in deeply, clearing your throat as you prepare to change tactics.

“Well, the last time I saw you, you so graciously volunteered to take care of my…” You stop yourself, struggling to find the appropriate word. Ugh, what do you even call Mike after that incident now? You think even ‘acquaintance’ is a little too generous. Either way, you make a mental note to delete him from your contacts list as soon as you figure out whether or not your guardian demon has deleted him in a more… permanent way.

A snort draws you from your musings and your gaze focuses back in on Jimin who has a hand up to his mouth to hide the grin on his face (his crinkled eyes gives him away though). You raise a brow at him, lost at what exactly he finds so funny.

“Sorry, the look of absolute disgust on your face is unbecoming of you.”

At that, your face scrunches up even more unattractively. “After that disaster, I think I’ve earned my right to be absolutely disgusted; I think a date with a garbage can would’ve gone smoother than whatever…that was.”

That pulls a peal of laughter from him, head tossing back as his shoulders shake and the sight of it all makes you have to hide your own growing smile (right before you realize that you should probably keep it down or else you’d be found out, so you throw a leg out in Jimin’s direction with a half-warning ‘Jimin! Shush!’ to get him to reel himself back in).

“To answer your previous statement,” Jimin starts after composing himself, “I took care of him alright….”

“Jimin….” You groan out, not liking the very dark tone he’s taken on with the confession but really, honestly speaking? You don’t really care as long as Mike’s not dead. “What did you do?”

“Oh nothing special; got him home, tucked him into bed, read him a bedtime story, set his dorm on fire….” He lists off casually, even takes the time to examine his cuticles.

You on the other hand, start spluttering, managing to just choke out a strained, “What—!” before continuing on like he’s spilled lipstick in your Valentino white bag (which you sadly don’t own).

“Okay, fine; I set him on fire.”

That does not make it any better!

Your horrified speechlessness sets another bout of uncontrollable giggles from Jimin who’s beside himself. As he struggles to not fall from his seat, you’re trying desperately to figure out if he’s being serious or he’s just messing with you. The worst thing is you can’t tell.

“Jimin!” You whine after he shows no signs of throwing you a bone. “Please tell me you didn’t actually!”

The little imp takes his sweet time calming down, wipes a tear or two and ruffles his hair again in that infuriating way you know that he knows he looks good. Your little glare has turned imploring at this point and at the sight of your pathetic self; Jimin rolls his eyes as he kisses his teeth.

“Alright, alright. I just messed with him a bit; a little traumatized from it maybe but he’ll live…. unfortunately.” He crosses his arms, leaning back in his chair as plump lower lips jut out in a pout. “You’re so lucky I have some restraint. I was this close to setting him on fire.” Jimin demonstrates it by bringing up a hand, the pads of his pointer and thumb a hair away from touching before he drops it to sigh out wistfully, “It’s tragic.”

You can’t help but breathe a laugh through your nose from his theatrics before flopping back against your pillows, hands over your face because you can finally breathe a sigh of relief. Good, that’s one less thing to worry about. But now that just brings your attention to the next thing.

“What about Jaehee?”

“What about her?”

“She knows who you are now! Don’t you have some demon magic to make her forget?”

“Why would I?” Jimin asks, raising an eyebrow at you. “She just thinks I look freakishly like your celebrity crush. Besides,” He takes the time to cross his legs elegantly and fold his hands over a knee. “This just makes things easier for us doesn’t it? I don’t have to skulk around like some pervert, as you had so affectionately called my ’guardian duties’.”

“Yeah, but that still won’t explain why you’re skulking around in my bedroom…. like a pervert.”

“Oh darling is that what you’re so worried about?” He coos at you, leaning forward slightly to pin you with a deep amber gaze that has you unconsciously leaning back even from beneath the safety of your covers. It’s like you’re held captive against your will with just a single look from him, wanting so much to look away out of self-consciousness but the way his hooded eyes seem to swirl in a multi-faceted display of rich, dark hues that remind you of molten lava has you so entranced. Before you know it, you’re lost and drowning in them, so hyper-aware of everything about him. You swallow thickly when you see his rosy lips part and the sounds of his voice flows out in a timbre that seems to rumble from his chest, husky and low.

“Would you like me to fix that for you?”

All at once, you feel your face flush with a heat that seems to travel through your entire body along with a slew of emotions that has your mind going haywire. You’re frazzled, heart beating ridiculously hard against your chest from the implication but to your complete horror and slow realization, most of these feelings aren’t even directed at his words. Instead, you find that it was more so towards your own racing thoughts and the small admission that you’re…. actually slightly turned on?!

The blankets have become far too hot now but it’s your only line of defense if you hope to get out of this one with your dignity still intact. Only that seems like a pipe dream because Jimin snorts out another laugh that breaks the sultry mask he had on, eyes practically disappearing amidst his muffled laughter. Of course it does nothing to calm your nerves because 1) the speed of which he switches demeanour baffles you, 2) now you’re on the verge of busting the biggest uwu you’ve ever had and 3) he fucking knows.

You really wish the devil himself would come and take you to the deepest pits of hell now because your face feels like it’s caught fire to keep it burning for the next thousand or so years.

“Oh dear, did I break you?” Jimin giggles and all you can do is glare petulantly at him; the only thing you make visible from beneath your blanket wall while choosing to mutter angrily under your breath (you’d rather not risk incriminating yourself further). You don’t need this sort of disrespect from him, not when you’ve also barely managed to get out of bed. He doesn’t seem to care though, with that shit-eating grin on his face as he gets up from his seat, hands stuffed into his pocket to stare down at you, eyes still twinkling mischievously.

“Don’t be such a sour puss, kitten. Now go wash up before your breath starts peeling the wall paint.”

“WHAT THE FU—?!”

By the time you’re done washing and officially ‘woken’ up, it’s two in the afternoon and Jimin was nowhere to be found. You huff to yourself, missing out on clobbering him for that last comment but eventually shrugged it off and went about your day with the intent of relaxing to the fullest. You’re thankful that both you and Jaehee have unanimously decided it was a lazy, stay-at-home, minimal social interacting day (though you can pretty much guess the reason why, not that you’re complaining).

Your only hiccup was skirting around Jaehee who had told you she thought she heard you yelling in your room when she greeted you (to which you brush it off by saying you thought a spider had crawled its way up your arm, you know, like a liar). Other than that, you’re finally getting a much deserved self-care session that involves you, a warm cup of tea and re-watching Burn The Stage: The Movie for the nth time.

“Hey what you want for dinner tonight Y/N?” Jaehee calls to you from the kitchen. You shift an earphone out from your place on the living room couch and give it some thought before ultimately coming up short.

“I don’t know; make whatever you feel like Jaehee.”

“Oh c’mon, is there really nothing you crave? How about I make your favourite dish?” She pokes her head out from the threshold to give you a pout. Jaehee, on top of still being apologetic over what happened between you and Mike, insisted that she cooks you dinner to make up for it (even after telling you that she told Jason to never bring or hang around with Mike ever again, which was really all you could ask for). You smile at her wryly with a shrug because you like any food Jaehee makes (and she makes some pretty bombass food).

Knowing this, Jaehee blows a raspberry before tilting her head back in thought before whipping back around again. “Fine! But no complaining when it’s not what you’re expecting!”

“When have I ever Jaehee?” You laugh.

Contrary to your indecision, it doesn’t take long for Jaehee to get to work, the sounds of chopping and pans clanking flowing out steadily from the kitchen and before you know it, the sizzling chorus of rice being fried takes over along with the aromatic smell of meat, herbs and kimchi. You feel yourself salivating.

“Dinner’s ready!” Jaehee calls out and you’re more than ecstatic. Placing down your laptop, you hop off the couch and pad over to the kitchen, letting your nose lead you. And you were not disappointed because Jaehee had just finished setting down a cast iron pan full of kimchi fried rice, topped with two sunny-side up eggs, chopped scallions, nori and sprinkled chilli powder on your small dining table.

“Oh my god Jaehee, how do you do this?” You ask, openly gaping because wherein you think you have quite the baking talent, Jaehee is all about the culinary stuff; taking simple dishes and spicing them up by adding ingredients or trying different methods of serving. She only grins back at you, shimmying her shoulders in way that clearly shows she’s pleased with herself. Jaehee takes a seat and you do as well, picking up the metal spoon that’s been set down.

“Thanks for the food!” You say before digging in too eagerly. The first bite nearly makes you moan aloud and it just further fuels your gusto. You’re about half way into dinner; happily chatting with Jaehee about the Netflix show you’ve both following when the doorbell chimes. You stop, spoonful of fried rice halfway into your mouth as you and Jaehee exchange puzzling looks.

“Uh, I wasn’t expecting anyone….” Jaehee says, though she’s slowly getting up from her seat anyways. You remain unmoving, only gently setting down your spoon to shoot Jaehee a tentative look.

“Maybe if we pretend we’re not home they’ll go away? Probably could be a solicitor.”

“I’ll just take a peek, I don’t think it’s Jason even though sometimes he’ll get off work early. But he usually lets me know…” Jaehee’s voice fades as she steps further into the threshold of your front entrance. You lean your chair a little to try to get a view of the doorway but all you see is a sad, indiscernible corner, even though you’re nearly toppling over. You hear her footsteps halt, a silent pause, and then a loud gasp. You’re instantly alerted but before you can ask what’s wrong, you hear the clicking of locks unfastening and the door opening.

“Julien!”

You let out an undignified loud squawk from actually nearly toppling over on your chair but it gets lost amidst Jaehee’s excited chatter. By the time you’ve righted yourself, you’re a disheveled mess as Jaehee comes bounding in like a golden retriever, wide smile splitting across her face.

“Julien’s here! He stopped by saying you didn’t text back so he got worried and wanted to check up on you! Go say hi!” She gets out in one breath and you’re only left to stare wide-eyed at her in a malfunctioning manner.

“Wha— Where— Huh?!” You get out intelligently. But Jaehee is having none of it, quickly switching over to ‘mother mode’ with her hands on either hips, pursed lips and a pointed look that pretty much screams, ‘go say hi to your relative that you haven’t seen since you were five years old!’

“Girl, he’s waiting by the door! Go talk to him!”

And without waiting for your response, she promptly drags your chair out from the table, grabbing your wrist to haul you to the door with your body still in flight or fight mode. But it’s too late, Jaehee’s got you in a vice grip and you arrive out into the hallway where you clearly see Jimin, in all of his fucking glory, idly standing by the front door in such an effortless modelesque way that anyone could easily set up a photo shoot right here and now and he would be ready. He’s still wearing the outfit you last saw him in; only he’s thrown on a chic blazer-cut, dark grey pea coat with a black, white-trimmed scarf draping over his shoulders. If you squint, you see the trademark C’s embroidered at the corners: Chanel.

You feel poor just looking at it; ten times more so because you’re still in one of your less than cute PJs.

He immediately turns his attention towards the two of you approaching him; lips quirking into an easy smile but all you see is a snake. Jaehee doesn’t catch the disgruntled look on your face directed at Jimin, too preoccupied in being a good host.

“Sorry, Y/N’s just a little caught off guard. She doesn’t do well with spontaneity.”

Jimin lets out an airy laugh, the back of his hand coming up to cover his mouth. “I sort of figured. Again, I’m really sorry if this is a bad time; I just really want to check up on Y/N considering what happened last night.”

“Well!” You pipe up, voice rising unintentionally from the need to end this conversation and kick him out of here as fast as you can. “I’m totally fine! — As you can see. So thanks for stopping by but yeah, you shouldn’t waste your time here now. So….”

“Y/N!” Jaehee warns under her breath, followed by a pinch to your arm that has you flinching away with a pout. She plasters on a pleasant smile but through the blinding pearly whites, she grits out to you, “Would you mind keeping our guest company for a bit? I’m gonna go clean up and set up some tea and coffee okay?”

“Oh no—“ You start but are taken aback when you hear your voice overlapping with Jimin’s. You whip your gaze to him the same time he does to you in movie-like comedic timing. Your eyes narrow as his only take on a twinkling mischievousness, knowing full well that you wanted him out of here while he’s only putting up an act of modesty. Of course, to Jaehee, it all looks too cavity inducing sweet so with an unfortunately misplaced, knowing look, she saunters off saying that she’ll go make that coffee and tea now with a tone of finality, leaving you no choice but to be alone with your pain-in-the-ass guardian. At least now, it gives you a moment of privacy to properly talk to him without having to keep face.

“What are you doing here?!” You whisper yell and on instinct, throw in a slap to his arm. He easily bats it away, grinning in a Cheshire-like fashion.

“Isn’t it obvious cherub?”

You retaliate back with a barrage of slaps, wanting to wipe that stupid grin off his face. It works somewhat because now he’s scowling at you, even though he easily defends himself by holding up an arm.

“This is Gucci you know.”

“You need to leave right now! You can’t just show up at my door like this!”

“On the contrary, I think as your dutiful guardian, it’s in our best interest if I build a rapport with those you associate yourself with yes?”

“That’s highly debatable.” You shoot back with a hiss. The clinking of ceramic mugs has you darting your eyes away from Jimin to the kitchen, making you miss out on the way he mimics you sassily. You inwardly curse because you almost physically feel your chances of getting Jimin out of here become slimmer and slimmer. You immediately whip back to him, an accusatory finger raised to his face and words spilling out in such rapid succession that you struggle to keep the volume down. “Listen, I don’t know what kind of games you’re playing right now but you’re crossing the line! You do know that you’re actually risking your own cover by doing this right? So if shit hits the fan and you get found out and then get exorcised, don’t come whining to me about getting thrown back to hell and doing grunt work.”

All throughout your berating, Jimin only smiles amused, which only infuriates you further. You’re over here about to blow a gasket but he just gives you a look like you’re a yapping little Chihuahua who has a lot to say. Well, you do! And this little Chihuahua is about to bite his head off—!

“Breathe sweetheart, or I fear you might put yourself into cardiac arrest.” He chastises with feigned exasperation, placing a placating hand on your tense shoulders. You shoot him a hard glare, shoulder hunching up even more before he finally lets out a sigh, seeing as you’re not receptive to his playfulness. “Look, nothing’s going to happen, I promise. And though I do enjoy terrorizing you until you’re a frazzled mess, I’m not careless.” He pauses to give you a sincere, reassuring smile. “Trust me on this one.”

The smile is so disarming that you eventually find yourself deflating, letting out a deep, calming breath. As you sink a little deeper into thoughts, you actually find that he’s right to a certain degree. Jaehee so far doesn’t seem to suspect anything beyond thinking Jimin looks funnily enough like your actual idol crush and your doppelgänger here has yet to give away any hints that he’s actually a supernatural entity you’ve made a contract with. But you find that’s all besides the point, what you find more troubling is that you’re starting to become too aware of the effects he has on you and he’s not even actively using an ounce of his demonic powers; that fact alone messes you up in more ways than one.

He had so easily calmed and swayed your emotions with only a few spoken words that are always delivered in a way you least expect. When you think you’ve got him pinned for being a snarky, sassy, materialistic, nuisance of a demon who has a devious streak and finds amusement in making your life a little harder than it should at times (under the guise of being your ‘guardian’), he hits you with another side to him that lets you get a glimpse of something softer; that in spite of it all, he’ll never let you down when it counts. And you would think this bias stems from the fact that he looks like your idol crush but…. you find that it’s not. It’s more than that, and it sort of scares you.

Throughout your silent brooding, Jimin watches and waits patiently, the faintest of smiles ghosting his lips. He can’t help but admit to himself that the creasing of your brow, as you’re lost in your own thoughts is endearing however, he finds that the look doesn’t quite suit you. So he presses a finger to soften the harsh lines. In turn, his cool touch snaps you out of your reverie, eyes focusing back on him again.

“So are we in agreement?”

The teasing smile that makes his eyes crease up into crescents annoys you but you have no arguments left against him. Casting your eyes to your feet, you mumble out an ‘I guess’, crossing your arms as heat begins to rise from your cheeks. Suddenly, you feel a hand rest on your head, giving you a gentle pat of affection.

“That’s my girl.” You hear Jimin cooing. Stubbornly, you still refuse to meet eyes with him but your childishness only makes him chuckle. There’s a pause, a silence washing over you two as the faint smell of coffee starts to permeate the air. You’re not quite sure where to go from here to be honest, the tiniest piece of your pride bruised from not having the last word (you’d rather not be fuelling Jimin’s ego if you so can help it). But Jimin being… Jimin, has no regards to reading the room.

“You know for a second, I could’ve sworn you were actually concerned if I get myself exorcised.” He teases slyly, which almost automatically sparks a retort at the tip of your tongue but as fate would have it, Jaehee’s voice interrupts you before you can get it out.

“Coffee and tea’s ready!”

You huff incredulously, watching Jimin shoot a wink and a finger gun at you before walking off to the kitchen. You follow, grumbling under your breath.

The rest of the evening was basically spent with you being sandwiched between your roommate and guardian demon getting chummy with each other. Half the time you spend sipping your tea while the other you’re trying not to roll your eyes until they fall out of your skull every time Jimin laughs at a comment Jaehee has made (he’s so fake). By the time Jimin has finally decided that he should be heading off now, you’re thanking the heavens and are all too eager to get him out of the house.

“It was really nice to have a proper conversation with you Jaehee.” Jimin says as he bends down to slip on his loafers.

“Likewise! I’m really glad to have met you properly, considering how our first meeting sort of went.” Jaehee cheerily replies back. Once Jimin secures the laces, he stands to his full height and flashes a charming smile; hands stuffed into his pea coat pockets.

“Thanks for the coffee again, I hope we’ll be seeing each other more in the future.”

“Of course! Don’t be a stranger when you swing by okay? I’m sure Y/N wouldn’t mind.”

“You know I’m still here.” You pipe up from behind Jaehee. Your friend waves you off as Jimin lets out a short chuckle before he perks up with a thought.

“Oh! Almost forgot.” He fishes out his mobile, unlocking it and handing it to Jaehee. “Just so we can easily stay in touch. Never know when that one might cause trouble.” He nods towards you and you scoff, offended, as the words spill out from you before you realize it.

“Uh? Rude?”

Jaehee just laughs at your bickering, handing back Jimin’s phone and pulling you forward with an arm slung around your shoulders. “Don’t worry, I feel like as long as she’s got us and BTS, she’ll be fine.”

Now you really want the devil himself to come up and take you away from this; what’s taking him so long?

“Eh, you might actually be right on that.” Jimin replies with a smile before he’s turning towards the door. “Well, I’ll be off then. See you around Jaehee.” He pauses to shoot you a patronizing wave, the tone of his voice switching to a more sing-songy one as he says, “Bye Y/N~”

You roll your eyes (loudly), shaking your head. “Just go.”

His eyes crinkle just a little more at your deadpan comment, making his cheeks become rounder than usual. It makes him look very much like that little Bao from the Pixar short film.

Oh no….

You bite down on your lip as subtly as you can because you feel the itch of your lips quirking up at the thought. No, no, no, no, no! The little animated bao is way cuter than Jimin—Your Jimin— THIS GUARDIAN DEMON JIMIN DANG IT!

Thankfully, obviously-not-cute-gurdian-demon Jimin leaves with that shit-eating grin still on his face before he can catch you red handed. You sigh out heavily once the door clicks shut, temples throbbing with an oncoming headache. You hear Jaehee laugh again, giving you a good shake before she walks off to clean up the mugs.

“You two already seem like an old married couple.”

You splutter, rushing after her to adamantly reply, “W-What are you talking about?! I’ve only known him for...” You pause to count, “A month and half now?”

She shoots you a look from the sink before turning back around with a fox-like smile to herself. “Yeah, but you’re awfully comfortable already.”

You huff, taking your place beside her to rinse the washed dishes. Jaehee gives you a gentle nudge with her shoulder, playful in a way that you pick up the message she’s trying to convey. You know she means no harm by it, but the fact of the matter is that she still has no idea of the bigger picture behind this Jimin look-alike, aka Julien (as the demon himself so affectionately named).

“I really think he’s a nice guy, and you seem like you’re fond of him.” Jaehee says, “Bonus points is the fact that he looks like your celebrity crush. I mean how lucky is that?”

“Super.” You reply, can’t help the sarcasm leaking through your words. It causes Jaehee to snort.

“Okay, okay I’ll stop. But even though I think he’s a nice guy and that you should totally date him—“

“Hey!”

“If anything happens, ‘cus guys are just stupid like that, you tell me and I’ll go beat him up for you okay?”

You highly doubt that would be possible, but you appreciate the sentiment. Still, you suppose a small part of you is glad that Jaehee’s basically given you her blessings if you so, hypothetically, decide to date Jimin. Not that you would ever because that’s just weird and wrong but like you know, the feeling is nice…. what are you even saying?! Ugh, you need to sleep.

You and Jaehee finish up quickly and bid each other goodnight before heading off to your respective rooms. Your mind is set on taking a nice, refreshing shower to clear your thoughts and also pamper yourself a bit. The thought makes you smile as you shuffle around your room to grab a new set of PJs and pull out fresh underwear from your drawer.

“Interesting colour choice, though I prefer baby blue.”

“Jesus!” You jump back with a hand clutched to your chest, gaze whipping to the source of the voice.

“Ddaeng.” Jimin chimes as he climbs down from his perch on your dresser drawer.

“Don’t,” You grab the closest thing to you — which is your cat plushy— and angrily chuck it in his direction but he effortlessly leans out of the line of fire and the poor thing smacks into your wall of posters behind him. “Do that!”

“Not my fault you’re so faint hearted.” He grabs the abused plushy and holds it out to you with a snide smile. Heat flushes your cheeks rapidly but you still swipe it away from him, using it as a shield to hide your intimate wear instead as you glare him down.

“What do you want now?”

“I just came here to let you know that I approve of your friend and therefore, won’t be staging her demise any time soon.”

“You—Wha…” You’re flabbergasted, mouth moving but failing to articulate any real words until you give your head a slight shake as if to physically knock yourself back to your senses. “W-Why does that even matter? I would’ve exorcised you myself if you so much as touch a hair on her.”

Jimin lets out a hearty laugh with a toss of his head (which you promptly shush him for, nearly sending the plush toy in your hands flying at him again but stopping last minute because you’re also holding your underwear).

“Yeah, alright princess. But I meant it when I said that it would be beneficial for us if I got acquainted with your friends.” He strides over to your full-length mirror and proceeds to fluff his hair in front of it, continuing to speak to you off-handedly all the while, like Narcissus gazing as his reflection in the pond. “That way I can keep better tabs on you when I’m not around.”

You give pause to the last part of his statement, nose scrunching in confusion. “Wait why wouldn’t you be around? — Don’t you even dare.”

He closes his mouth to smirk instead at your warning through the mirror, and you actually see him toying with the idea of commenting on your question for a few moment. Eventually though, he chooses not to but not without having to bite his lower lip to hold himself back. You shake your head with a roll of your eyes.

“I meant as in aren’t you supposed to be my guardian demon? So, doesn’t that mean you have to stick by me most, if not, all the time?”

“Alas, I am not your personal Cerberus to wait on your every beck and call.” Jimin sighs, spinning on his heels to give you a pouting, tearful expression; like it’s the most devastating piece of news he has to tell you. “As long as you’re not in harm’s way, my job as guardian is being fulfilled as far as I’m concerned.” He saunters over to you until you have to crane your neck up to look him in the face. The substantial height difference seems to amuse him, his smile growing wider as he looks down on you.

“Besides my darling homebody, I am a creature of the night; so naturally, I’d rather be spending my time lurking in dark corners and preying on poor, forsaken souls.”

Ugh, you should’ve known. Of course his idea of fun would be to terrorize people but as messed up as it is, he’s got a point; who are you to tell him he can’t just because he’s your guardian? The contract (and the oath he gave you) really does only state that as long as he keeps you safe and no harm comes to you under his watch, he’s doing his job perfectly. You breathe out heavily, like a parent begrudgingly giving into their rebellious teen’s questionable antics. You can take the demon out of hell, but you can’t take the hell out of a demon you suppose.

“Just— don’t do anything stupid okay? Like something that would get you arrested because I don’t have the money to bail you out.” You groan out exasperatedly, headache coming back with a vengeance. You could really go for that steaming hot shower and cucumber facial mask right about now.

Jimin grins, crescent eyes and all but says nothing in response to your ultimatum as he begins to back away from you, hands behind his back like a mischievous little boy who’s taken the last cookie from the cookie jar and blamed it on his little brother, no remorse whatsoever.

“Jimin—“ You begin, trying to sound stern but it ends off sounding like a whine of desperation. You seriously don’t have money to bail him out if he gets arrested!

“Don’t miss me too much!” He sings and in a wispy cloud of black smoke, he’s gone before you can attempt a choke hold on him; leaving no trace of his insufferable being other than the fading sounds of his delighted cackling.

After a few moments of counting backwards from ten, your head lops back, letting your gaze bore into the ceiling as if to address an invisible security camera watched by God or whoever was up there in a very ‘The Office’ like fashion. Maybe you should consider going to the church to repent for your sins…. or maybe this is the divine punishment itself; being stuck with an annoying demon who ironically looks like your idol crush like your own special kind of hell.

Whatever it is, the Lord is really testing you.

You miraculously make it to the shower without any further incident. You triple check that Jimin won’t be appearing any time soon to give you another one of his surprise visits before stripping your clothes and hopping into the shower, turning the water setting to a searing hot temperature. Times like these you wished you had a Jacuzzi to relieve your stress and tense muscles in, but all you have is aromatherapy and self-spa care. It still does the trick so you’re not complaining. You reach for your body wash and upon flicking it open; the familiar smell of lavender-vanilla washes over you and almost immediately, your mind thinks to a certain demon.

You reel for a second, contemplating whether or not you should change your body wash but find that the more you think about other possible alternatives, no other scent calms you like lavender-vanilla does.

Even if it also reminds you of him.

Jimin does as he says he would. For the next few weeks or so, you find that he’ll vanish during most hours of the night, only to turn up at random times during the day to check in on you (read: pester and make sure you haven’t gotten yourself killed). Sometimes he doesn’t appear until you’ve come home from work or school but then sometimes you’ll see him leave the same night and then show up bright and early the next day when you wake up. He stops by as ‘Julien’ from time to time as well (much to Jaehee’s delight and your chagrin, you swear he does that just to keep you on your toes).

But in spite of his teasing and poking, there are days where you come home absolutely drained from a long or particularly bad day, you’ll find sweets like chocolate or a steaming cup of tea sitting on your desk. At first you thought it was Jaehee but then after some careful reconsiderations (that involves you trying to weasel your way out of one awkward conversation of, ’thanks for the chocolates…Oh you never got chocolates…Maybe I forgot I had chocolates haha oops! I must be getting old! Haha never mind!’), you accept that it might possibly be from your not-as-annoying-when-he-chooses-to-be demon.

Bah, you scoff to yourself as you fish your keys out of your pocket. Why are you getting so worked up over who gave you the chocolates? You’re a simple person, and chocolate is chocolate no matter what (unless they’re marzipan or mint, you will never understand them). It’s been another long day and all you can think about is taking a steaming hot shower and curl up into your comforter to binge watch those two episodes of RUN! BTS that you missed. So as soon as you unlock the front door, you fling your shoes off and drag your feet to your room, pushing open the door unceremoniously with the sole of your foot.

You freeze mid-step when you spot a dark figure hunching over your desk. It takes a second for you to catch your nerves, hand falling away from your chest that you had unknowingly brought up from being startled.

“Geez, you scared me! Aren’t you supposed to be lurking the night like Batman or some...thing….“

The sentence fizzles out past your lips as you watch the figure straighten to their full height. It shouldn’t have been alarming, only it is because whoever this is is clearly not your guardian. For one they are noticeably taller, as well as a little broader in places you’re not used to seeing on Jimin like in the shoulders. But despite that, they still taper down to a rather impossibly slim waistline, made visibly known thanks to them tucking their cobalt blue silk shirt into their pants. On top of the longer legs, you see the straining of muscled thighs against tight black jeans that you think would even rival Jimin’s; actually they might even beat out Jimin’s because you remember his thighs being thick (let’s not discuss how), but you don’t think they were that thick.

Yeah, definitely not Jimin.

As if that wasn’t obvious enough, the figure turns around to face you and you finally see his face. Big doe eyes, large nose and a toothy bunny-like smile make up this youthful, handsome face as he catches sight of you before taking a bite out of your chocolate bar. You stagger back, not believing it.

“Hello poppet.” Jeon Jungkook grins at you.

A/n: Jungkook shoot dances his way into battle!

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