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chocosvt · 4 years

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⚬ pairing: demon!minghao x reader ⚬ word count: 3478 ⚬ warnings: blood, bodily injuries, death ⚬ genres: god i don’t even know... angst, unrealized pining and romance, weird tension, reader is just as evil as minghao?

✧✎ synopsis: three-hundred years have passed, and the second son has awoken from his slumber, waiting for a new soul to devour.

✧✎ a/n: this au was many things, and in finality, it morphed into this. usually i have a lot to say in my author’s note but today i bring you nothing! enjoy!

Three-hundred years had passed, and you knew due to the bell tower.

Its reverberations shuddered throughout the town, permeated the density of the smoke curtain which had swallowed the sky for centuries, and vibrated the very oxygen that fluttered in your lungs. It was a calling to check your mailbox, for reaching inside unveiled a folded note. At first, you glanced to your neighbour across the street, to the elderly man who lived on your right, and finally to the pig-tailed girl who’d just celebrated her fifteenth birthday on your left.

Yet they had retrieved nothing from their mailboxes exempt from a soft-spoken prayer, a testament to their gratitude that their lives had been spared. But you—you were the unholy meal.

With a sharp arrowhead of stone pressed to the skin between your shoulder blades, you were forced into the cavernous opening based midway along the mountain. It fed deep into the earth’s heart, and as a watchman pierced the spear’s tip further into your flesh, you began the cold, damp descent that would lead you to a deserved death, a death that could no longer be prevaricated.

After a painful stumbling over jagged flints and pieces of crystal, you emerged into the Blood Room, where three other contenders from the town were already aligned. There was not one look exchanged between either meal; however, you did recognize a specific helix piercing and the russet locks of Joshua, who you recently spotted dragging a body down to the ravine where the forest waterfall bubbled. Still, despite Joshua’s inept piousness, you knew he was not a meal worth being served.

A watchman approached you with a pocketknife. Splaying out your fingers, you observed calmly as he created a small incision against a distinct line travelling the length of your palm. As the dark, crimson fluid leaked from the wound, it was then collected in a glass dropper. Each watchman approached a scroll which hung from the stone. A drop of Joshua’s blood was tested first. It rolled about halfway down the sallow paper, which was impressive to say the least, indicative of even the boy’s worst transgressions.

The next possible meal had their sample beaded onto the scroll, though it had soaked up rather quickly, even before Joshua’s, and you knew their sins were pitiful and their soul was much too pentant. Similarly, the blood of the other meal drew short. You couldn’t help but think the contenders were quite pathetic.

At last the glass dropper containing your blood was being set against the paper. A slight squeeze, and the liquid bulb started its trickling. It streamed down boldly, leaving in its wake a luminous red tint that outshined even Joshua’s viscid plasma. You watched the bulb surpass one meal, then glide past the second meal, and just as you anticipated, the droplet rolled to the very end of the scroll. In fact, it began dripping onto the dust of the icy floor.

“The test concludes.” A watchman rumbled, his voice bouncing against the rock. His spear pointed toward you criminally. “Your blood runs the thickest and your heart beats the slowest. You are the unholy meal. The second son has awoken from this three-hundred-year slumber, and it is your soul he will devour so that he may be appeased and tire.”

You fought to keep an emotionless, flat face.

“Feed him well, for the weight of your blood carries more sin than purity.”

Briskly, the latter three contenders were swept away.

Joshua may have thrown his first corpse into the waterfall and watched it gush like a leaf down the black ravine, but his single body could not compare to the hundred that you’d left to float for years.

The bare bottoms of your feet were engrained with shallow cuts and stained by the powder to the numbing stone. You had not eaten or drank for over forty-eight hours, and your strength, which could often be as robust as great titanium, had seemingly dwindled to an emaciated, dried flower.

From the tales your mother relayed amongst your youth, you knew it was important to not make a face in the presence of the second son. Unlike his older brother, Jun, who would only be appeased by a meal who smiled and flaunted their guilt, Minghao chiefly adored a meal who showed no more emotion than the limestone tumbled along the mountainside. It was best to please the Demon Sons before they untied your soul from its fleshy bindings and swallowed it whole.

Or else in their next awakening, they might demand a meal of the entire village.

Minghao gestured to the garnet-coloured mat which had been lain across his bedroom floor. There were bowls of flavourful rice, steaming, clay pots filled with different soups, plates warmed by sliced bread and tin cups almost overflowing due to the plentiful wine inside.

“Hungry?” He asked, to which his soft, wispy voice was rather surprising.

Your countenance remained blank, unmoving, apart from your mouth. “Yes, I am starved.”

“Sit,” the second son invited, “I want you to be satiated and full, until you feel sleepy.”

Heeding his order, you sat cross-legged on the side of the mat opposite to the demon. His robe, embroidered with ruby lace, rippled behind his feet when he walked, and the collar’s diamond shape revealed underworldly markings which drew attention to the pale expanse of his chest. Even through the material cloaking his arms, you could faintly decipher the kohled tattoos. You had even recognized the familiar symbols chiselled into the walls during your trek to the demon’s chamber. When Minghao took his seat, he grabbed one of the black horns curling from his hair and dug his thumb into the pointed end.

“They are becoming weak,” he admitted, “I’m sure my brother’s wings are close to shattering from his broad shoulders. I’m sure the nerves are peeling and laughably brittle.” Minghao reached for a bowl, using wood chopsticks to fish the orange, tangy rice into his mouth. “You know, as first born, he is granted those wings. It’s his rite.” He lowered the bowl, a faded grin crossing his lips. “I remember, he used to embellish them with the bones of his meals, hanging their cervicals and metacarpals and pieces of their skull across each wing like a charm bracelet. But myself? It is not my meals’ bones that I save.” He shook his head, picking up another sticky rice ball.

Suddenly, the demon paused. “Are you not going to eat?”

It was difficult to speak when the interior of your mouth felt coated with chalk. Inclined by fear rather than your hunger, you reached for a bread loaf, then broke its golden crust in half, listening to the satisfactory crackle.

“I was absorbed by your pretty voice,” you spoke with not a single intonation, “forgive me.”

As you tore a piece from the warm inside and poked it into your cheek, the pottery bowl which he held broke into pieces due to the crushing grip of his hand, orange rice and clay shards spilling onto the mat. You had visibly flinched. The demon’s body trembled as he inhaled a slow, subdue breath.

“Dearest, if you ask me to lend my forgiveness, I will pierce a stake through your beating heart and pull it out onto my plate.” His teeth were claws in his mouth as he growled. “Do you understand?”

You hid your quivering, bottom lip by bringing a tin cup to your face, the slick formula of the wine flowing down your throat. It was thicker than the wine you drank at home, and there was a copper-like aftertaste that almost rendered your expression to pucker, but you remembered to keep staid.

“I understand.”

The void, starless nature to his gaze disappeared. Instead, his eyes returned to their settled oak. Allowing more wine to soak against your tongue, there was a distant familiarity to its unique flavour.

“Are there things you regret?” Minghao retrieved you from musing, and spooned some rosemary soup into his mouth.

Once more, you took another sip, swished the alcohol between your cheeks, and swallowed. The demon observed you with an intent eye. Something flashed against your memory. It was a pale face drained of its pink and lively colour. In fact, it was your husband’s face, Soonyoung’s face, right before you tipped his body over the ravine’s misty edge and into the gurgling chasm below.

He had been your last murder.

“I regret…” You began, lowering the wine, “I-I regret…”

A stutter. An emotion. An inkling of your distress.

Minghao’s grasp around the soup pot tightened and the tattoos needled into his flesh seemed to slither as though they’d been disturbed. Your mind grew stifled with obnoxious imagery. It was too much, all at once, and this dizziness spun at the centre of your cranium like a comet in orbit.

You leaned further over the wine, staring blurry at the liquid.

“I regret… I r-regret…”

Then it came to you, the underlying taste of the wine. So familiar because you should have known it better than anyone, especially considering your habitual dirty work, how often that fluid caked under your fingernails and spattered your clothing. No, it was definitely not the bones Minghao kept.

A moment later and you fainted onto the mat.

You awoke to a damp coolness folded against your forehead, and to Minghao who sat at the edge of his bed, where he had rested for three-hundred years. He removed the cloth and began dabbing it along each arch of your cheek, cleaned your jaw’s long edge, and at last wet your lips until they gleamed. Expelling a subtle breath, you kept your face as blank as possible.

“How do you feel?” He set away the cloth in order to sweep his sleight fingers down your temple.

“I’m well,” sounded your meek voice, “you have taken care of me.”

In between the black fringe that feathered the demon’s lashes, you met his eyes. Minghao’s hand slid to your throat, where his palm pressed flat against its column and his fingers curled taut with the sensation of hot steel.

He felt you gulp.

“I implore that you bathe. Rid yourself of this fabric which has been stained by wine and broth. I will leave you undergarments and a robe.” He leaned in closer to your face, and you couldn’t help but glance at his jagged teeth when he said so adoringly, “my wish is to paint you. I would like clean flesh.”

Clad in nothing but the undergarments, Minghao stood before your body, holding a wooden bowl. The inside was smeared with a rustic-coloured substance that almost bore the same consistency as honey. His chosen brush had fanned bristles, and when he stroked their wetness along your skin, it was a smooth, somewhat ticklish feeling. You found yourself enjoying it. Specifically the longer strokes, ones that began at the top of your shoulder and licked across the soft underbelly of your arm, only to gently flit away at the brittle bones in your wrist.

He decorated you in content.

As the boy lowered to his knees and illustrated unintelligible runes against your inner thigh, he was focused, sharp. Another dip into the wooden bowl, and Minghao moved to paint your other thigh. You examined the horns pushing between his hair. Without thought, you stroked your hand against one, feeling the small grooves that created every divot. The demon never stirred, but continued to paint down your leg, and you wondered if he truly hadn’t noticed your touch or perhaps quite liked the way you caressed him.

Despite the fact you were merely prey being toyed with until dinner time, when you looked at the demon who touched your skin and treated you with such reverence, you felt this unbeknownst tenderness in your heart.

As Minghao instructed you to raise a foot, he immediately stiffened.

“What is it?” You questioned flatly.

He set the bowl and brush down.

“Dearest, the soles of your feet are cut and raw. It appears worse than usual.”

You wobbled slightly, almost losing your balance. “I was shown no kindness on my journey to meet with you. Because I am your meal, I can ignore the stinging.”

“No,” Minghao shook his head and rose up, “I will wrap your feet in precious calendula leaves. The paint will dry quickly, then you can sit.”

“If I may ask one thing,” you remarked, fiddling with the sleeves of your robe, “how painful is it to have your soul devoured?”

Minghao plucked the last few calendula leaves from their flowers. The petals were rather striking, the aurora of a setting sun as you mother always described. It had been a longtime wish to see the sun one day, though considering your fate, such a dream must remain only that. The leaves swathed each foot with the help of a clear, sticky gel.

“Very painful.” The demon responded. He shifted next to you on the bed, then grabbed one of the orange flowers. “This is why we sleep so far beneath the crust, so the people do not hear the meal’s delicious screams.” He grasped your hand which had suffered a slit from the watchman’s pocketknife, and he began to rub a flower bud across the wound.

“Do you remember your last meal?” You asked, staring at Minghao rather than the skin’s miraculous healing.

The demon looked straight into your eyes as he grinned. “I do remember,” he sounded wistful, “it had been three meals, since the man I consumed in an even further past had greatly upset me.” Minghao dropped the flower, slowly interlaced his fingers with yours, squeezing.

“I had treated him well. I cleaned his cuts, I allowed him to bathe, I offered him my finest silk, and then, when we ate, I asked him what he regretted.” His hand became colder than ice. Minghao’s eyes started to widen, illuminate with a shiny madness, and when he leaned in closer your every facial muscle was begging to twitch. “He cried to me. Can you believe it? I had never been so upset. It caused me to fill with rage. He wept for forgiveness, absolution, a relief from his pain. Who am I, but a being who takes pain like a supplement? In that moment, I leapt across the dinner table and devoured him. His soul tasted like salt and alloy. I could not eat his heart, which was given to my brother. He will always eat the heart, because it so plumped full of your terrible emotion.”

The demon’s hand fit to the side of your neck, his thumb stroking along a particular vein where your pulse was thundering. “Well,” he sighed, “not your terrible emotion, but most peoples.”

In that moment, you took your deepest breath, and did not respond until you were certain that not one note of your voice would tremble. “I understand.” You placed your hand overtop the demon’s as it continued to cradle your neck, “did you paint this man too?”

“No,” Minghao shook his head, “I use my paints sparingly.”

With a soft fingertip, he began to trace a thin line he had brushed. It started at your jaw, then fell down the length of your warm neck. It dragged across your collarbone and in between your chest. Over the ribs, to your stern hip. The fingertip circled sweetly against your inner thigh a few times, and at last glided to your knee where the demon’s touch drifted away like a summer breeze.

“You are the most beautiful meal I have ever seen,” Minghao murmured, holding your gaze which threatened to water, “I was delighted to accent a body like yours, so gorgeous and strengthened by sin.”

Since your arrival at the demon’s bedroom, you knew it was vital to preserve a blank face, and yet, it came to a point where you could not restrict the whims of your emotion. A tear bled from your eye, your bottom lip started to quiver, and your brow pinched together in a wrinkle. There was fear to your gradual outbreak, but it was an infinitesimal fraction compared to your gratitude, that the second son could somehow honour you more than your own unfaithful husband, who’d been your last body discarded into the ravine.

In reality, how different were you to this demon? Year after year, the suppleness of your heart became hardened with immorality, pummelled of its empathy and completely wrung from compassion like a soaked, heavy towel. A common routine: dragging a corpse through the wildlife, your lips pursed and whistling the tune you’d overhear the pig-tailed girl humming on her front lawn. Dump the body. Return home. Peel an apple, bake a pie, and feed a slice to your next victim, watching the froth dribble from their lips as you sipped your drink and folded a leg over your thigh. But that was life under the cinder sky. It’s what kept people mad, what kept the demons fed. Either flee or have the light of your being rubbed into another dark ash.

The demon immediately turned rigid.

His spine bristled straight and the tattoos started to crawl beneath his robe, rustling like serpents who navigated the tall grass. You figured your death would be the most painful, since you had not only broken at the last minute, but soiled the significance to Minghao’s paints, casted the illusion that you were not appreciative of his gestures. In a snapping wrench, he practically tore you from the velvet blanket, dragging you to a door in his bedroom.

When it was opened, a frigid wind dusted at your face, and a slender corridor was revealed, stretching so far that it led into complete blackness. With a hand against your lower back, Minghao shoved you into the tunnel.

“Go,” he demanded, his words echoing off the stone, “go and do not turn back.”

Your voice was breathy, confused, “I don’t understand. I-I—”

“It leads to an opening at the opposite side of the mountain. You will leave, and you will never-” he gripped your chin, and his gaze intruded even the most clandestine pockets to your soul, “ever return to this town. Escape these cinder skies. I will not repeat myself.”

Before you could make sense of anything, before the door could be slammed in your face, your solace left to the rock and damp air, you slipped a hand around the demon’s neck and kissed him. His mouth was just as soft as his voice, and when he angled his head to better taste the tears that stained your lips, you felt it would be impossible to make this journey alone. The silk of his tongue brushed inside your mouth, causing your knees to tremble, therefore you gripped weakly at the demon’s hair. His sharp teeth pricked your bottom lip and it welted ever so slightly with blood.

“Come with me,” you begged, pressing your forehead to his, “please, do not go back to sleep.”

But Minghao merely giggled, and the fact that such an innocent sound could leave the chest of a demonic entity had disoriented you.

“What creature are you?” Minghao hummed, “that I can see your emotion and only want to hold you closer? Maybe it is because you are the first meal to bare no regret. You know your flesh is stitched by the sin of your own hand. Even your sweet tears. Oh! My brother would adore you! Though he would’ve devoured you by now no doubt.” He gave a gentle shove, removing you from his body.

“Will you please come find me?” You entreated.

Time was of the essence. The tenebrosity seemed to have a curl on your ligaments, tugging you backward into the tunnel.

Minghao smiled, his hand reaching out to wipe the blood from your sore lip.

“Dearest, I will come find your dark soul anywhere,” sounded his honest purr, “but I suggest you travel hastily. If I leave, I must first wake my brother, and the rage of a demon whose slumber has been interrupted... It cannot be compared to anything. I’m afraid you’ll faint again.”

Trusting that Minghao would seek you out, you began the journey down the tunnel, your hand swiping against the stone and your feet taking calculated steps. Amongst the black air, there was no concept of time. Seconds, minutes, hours, they felt ineffectual in a place where not even your own fingers or toes could be seen. Eventually, you came to a light that burned against your eyes, and emerged at the opposite side of the mountain, like Minghao promised. And as you padded into the jade forest, you felt one final vibration shake the pine needles scattered across the earth, heard some boulders from the mountainside crumble down in swirling, dry dust clouds.

Shuddering, you knew it had been the abhorrent cry of the first born son. And for once your compulsion to escape the grey skies was a real desire.

✧✎ a/n: yes.................... :) thinking that i could also make an au for jun in this universe? i will have to do some Major Thinking. i still have nothing to say! like i don’t know where this au crawled out of, but it’s Here now. it’s pretty morbid n freaky sfeheff but nonetheless i hope you liked it and as always i luv hearing ur guys TH0TS.

#seventeen scenarios #svt fanfic #seventeen minghao #minghao scenarios #xu minghao #minghao angst #minghao fluff #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #minghao fanfic

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hazzoranstories · 3 years

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THE WHITE SUN AT MIDNIGHT | J.BLACK Ch. 36

*Polson, Montana*

"Here for your daily pleading?" Kaimbe accused the wolf stumbling through the door.

"I've grown out of that," Paige mumbled, and Kaimbe glanced up from his newspaper with a rather unamused sneer.

"Took you long enough," the Alpha sighed.

"I was just wondering something," - Paige bit her lip in anticipation while Kaimbe raised an eyebrow - "well, you see, Bella and Edward are getting married back in Forks and --"

"-- and let me guess. You want to go?" the chief interrupted, and Paige stuttered out her next reply.

"Yeah, kinda. I mean, she's my sister," Paige knew her answer, but she wanted to ask anyway. What she didn't expect was for Kaimbe to start chuckling. The werewolf became nervous at how calm the Alpha was being.

Kaimbe stood up from his armchair, causing Paige to step back. "Did you expect something different? You stupid little girl," he hissed and pushed past her to head to the kitchen.

"Please, Kaimbe. Just for one day. Then I promise on my life that I'll come back. I just want to see my family --"

"Your family is either dead or hundreds of miles away, Paige," Kaimbe stated with a whine of annoyance in his tone.

"I know, but --"

The girl was cut off when Kaimbe slammed her into the kitchen island. Paige's eyes widened, and she let out a small whimper. "I haven't snapped at you in a while, Eva. Don't clean up your attitude, and my next snap will be much worse than a broken wrist," the Anderson spat.

"What --" Kaimbe grabbed onto Paige's wrist and popped a bone out of place. The girl yelped as the Alpha stepped away and went to the fridge. She held her wrist, which was shaking madly, along with her other hand and took a long breath.

"Your curfew is five the next morning," Kaimbe said and walked out with an energy drink in his hands. Being too quick for Paige to thank him.

~:*:~

*Forks, Washington*

"Bella, how are you so sure she'll even come?" Edward questioned.

"Because she's my sister, she has to be there. She's going to be there," Bella kept nodding to herself to try and help the fact that Paige was somewhere in Montana, possibly dead.

Edward sighed and put the wedding invitation in the mailbox for the mailman to pick up and bring to Polson, Montana. Jake had also gone missing soon after Paige was taken, and Bella's been asking the pack about him every chance she has, but no news has come through. The best man and maid of honor were absent only a few days before the wedding, and Alice was panicking more than anyone. She was going to be there. Bella kept repeating that over and over until she believed her own lie.

~:*:~

Paige stared at the Cullens, putting the finishing touches on the aisle and reception, and couldn't hold back the smile. All vampires felt a wolf's presence, but they knew who it was, which only boosted their spirits. Once she unphased and put some clothes on, she stepped out of the shadows.

The eyes of Emmett caught her eyes, and a wide grin spread across his face. Carlisle and Esme noticed their son's face and followed his vision to fall on Paige. Both vampires joined Emmett's expression. "She's upstairs," Esme whispered, which Paige heard with her heightened ears.

The Claymore raced inside the house, and her thunderous footsteps thump up the stairs until she stopped in a hallway. Her eyes searched for her sister until she heard Bella's voice gasp, "Paige."

The werewolf snapped around and saw Bella, Rosalie, Alice, Charlie, and Renée all admiring Bella's beauty. The two parents looked around as Bella ran forward and tackled Paige in a hug. "Oh my god, Paige. Ho-how are you here? I thought --"

"My chief, let me come," Paige answered, and Bella broke the hug with tears rimming her eyes. "Don't ruin your makeup, Bells. Alice would murder me," both girls giggled, and Bella whipped her eyes. The Swan girl moved aside to reveal Charlie.

Paige whistled at his suit, and he rolled his eyes, wrapping her in a hug. "I missed you, Paige."

"Missed you too, Charlie," Paige squeezed him tighter before letting go and looking over to Renée. Her jaw tightened, and her shoulderblades ground together. "Mom," she choked out.

Renée was dumbfounded at how gorgeous her daughter was. She was almost a replica of her father, and it made her joy skyrocket. "Hi, Paige," she exhaled. The Claymore forced a smile on her face.

"We need to get you dressed! You couldn't tame your hair on the way here?" Alice cut in and dragged Paige over to the vanity where Bella previously sat. Paige knew she would be attacked with foundations and powders she didn't even know the names of, which already made her groan.

#twilight #twilightsaga #twilight fanfic #twilight fanfiction #jacob black #jacob black x reader #jacob black fanfic #jacob black fanfiction #jacob black love story #edward cullen #bella swan #lucy hale #taylor lautner #robert pattinson #kristen stewart

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years

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In A Storm

Bree gets stranded in a storm and just needs to find someone to give her a helping hand.

Calum x Black!OC, Bree. Idk what happened. This post doesn’t actually exist.

CW: 18+ Content (Briefest mentions of sex. It’s an almost fade to black moment, but there’s a tiny teeny amount of details.)

Enjoy my masterlist

You can support me on kofi.

________________________________________

Bree wants to laugh. The light on her car came on twenty minutes ago. She thought then, maybe she should pull over, call her dad and see what she should do. She was so close to her friend, Drew’s house. And maybe it was stupid to negioate with herself that if it went out in another ten minutes she’d continue on and worry about it in the morning. Her lower back and ass was starting to hurt from the long drive though and if Bree was to stop she only wanted it to be at her final destination so she could stretch out and sleep.

Though in Bree’s defense, the light shouldn’t have gone out. If something was really wrong, then it would’ve stayed on. But it went out after a couple minutes. She was nearing her exit when it came back on. It was only another ten minutes according to the GPS. Just another ten minutes and then in the morning, she could get someone to look at the car. Now, not even two minutes from the new house, a whopping three blocks away, her car was slowly puttering to its end.

And breaking down two minutes from her new place wouldn’t be that bad. Things happened. But it was of course during her big move from her parents' place and in with Drew up in the Hills. This move is only temporary. She had a job starting in a week and after stacking up a few checks, Bree was going to put in an application to an apartment complex not too far from her job. But, of course, her car would break down in the middle of a downpour.

The rain was nice at first. Made her feel like she was in her own bubble down the winding roads of the highway. Though she was getting into heavier traffic closer to the city and folks were becoming a bit more impatient in their driving, the rain provided her a little bit of solace. It felt a renewal. Bree was flying the coupe and it felt right that even though it was exciting it was also a little sad. It felt right to have the rain hitting the roof of her car. It made her feel like she was shedding something--though she wasn’t sure what it was just yet.

But she did not need the rain and her car breaking down. Bree flicks on her emergency lights. Fat would have this for her. Fate would have this stored away just for her, at just the most inopportune time. Pulling the car off to the side of the road, Bree listens to the rain falling around her. She exhales, thinking what her next step should be. She’d have to call for a tow. And she’d have to let Drew know that she’d be delayed getting in and she should probably call her dad just to make sure she was handling the situation right.

Reaching for her phone, she taps to end the GPS’s route. She wouldn’t be needing that for a while. Her nails click over the glass screen and just as her fingers hover over her dad’s contact the screen goes back. Her phone started dying just as she got into the neighborhood and now without the car battery on, she was left with no charge. “Let this be a fucking lesson to charge your phone the night before your drive,” Bree tells herself.

Her portable charger box was somewhere in the mass of bags and boxes in her car. She told herself she’d put in her purse before leaving but due to late night last minute packing, Bree’s sure she dumped it somewhere into the depths of those boxes and there was no way she’d be able to unearth it now.

“At least you’re in a neighborhood,” she tells herself, looking for any signs of life behind curtains. “A light, a child, something,” she mutters, looking through the sheets of rain.

And right at the end of the block, a house down from where her car gave up the ghost, Bree spots two dogs in the windows. One fluffy and the other one with a pretty white coat. Normally, Bree wouldn’t be so inclined to just walk up to any old house. But a house with two dogs made her feel better. It felt like a sign. Throwing her phone into her purse, she took a deep breath.

She had just pressed her hair. And sure really it was not anything more than a blow out and a quick rod set, but still it meant that the second the rain touched her scalp her roots would revert, the curls would take back their natural form. Though, that would just have to be a fight for tomorrow. Right now she can’t be sitting in her broke down car with no phone or way to contact anymore.

“Do or die,” she sighs. Sliding the keys from the ignition, Bree leans into the door. “I just did my hair though. God,” she huffs, opening her door. The rain is cool. It’s almost a relief. The door is wet within seconds. Her jeans are no longer the light faded wash but dark denim blue.

It’s another moment before she fully pushes herself out of the car, locks it and then runs up the driveway, purse clutched tight to her side. The rain’s not a chill to her bones. But it’s like a refreshing sip of water. The jog’s stretched out her lower back a little. Under the refugee of this strangers porch, she shakes a little bit of the water from her hair and raps at the door. “Please don’t be a creep,” Bree whispers, biting the corner of her lip. “Also, not an axe murder. Would not be cool.”

______________________________________

Calum walks past the two dogs perched on his couch to the front door. Calum agreed to dog sit Moose for the day while Michael took South to the vet. The poor guy hadn’t quite been eating like before and Michael, the worrier that he is, decided not to wait to check him out. Crystal had gone out of town and rather than letting Michael have to fret over South and Moose, Calum happily offered to watch Moose while Michael took care of what he needed.

Calum’s not really sure what he expected to find on the other side of the door. It could’ve been anyone really--Michael, a mailperson, possibly a random kid asking if they could get access to his backyard to retrieve a rogue ball. But not someone, completely drenched, nervously running her teeth over her bottom lip. “Sorry to bother you. I just need to use your phone. My car broke down. I’m a genius who doesn’t charge her phone before driving 5 hours across the state.”

Calum looks past her, over her shoulder to see a car--he assumes it’s her--pulled over to the side of the road. He looks back to her. The college sweatshirt hanging heavily from her frame thanks to the pouring rain. Her hair sticks to her face a little. Whatever eye makeup she was wearing has started to run down her cheeks. “C’mon in,” he waves hurriedly for her to enter.

“Thanks,” she smiles, stepping inside but not going past the indoor welcome mat. Her shoes squish as she walks onto the hardwood floor.

“Is your car far?”

“Nah, just like a house down. I saw the dogs in the windows. Seemed like a safe bet.” She holds out a hand to the dog intrigued by her. The pure white pup happily sniffs away at her hand while the smaller husky colored dog watches from afar.

Calum turns any shoes suitable to go out into the rain. “I can help you push it closer to my house, that way none of my neighbors get pissy. That’s if you’re okay with getting wet again?”

The woman laughs. “I think I’m passed getting worried about wet. You’re the one that’s bone dry.”

“Not worried about it really. I’m just sick of my neighbors, at this point.”

“Don’t want the HOA on your ass?” she teases.

“God, not again.” Into some old tattered boots, Calum faces her. “I’m Calum by the way.”

“Bree,” she turns, slipping her purse over her head. “Is it okay if I set this inside? The phone’s dead but I don’t want it getting wet or anything.”

“Yeah sure,” he waves to the coffee table.

Both of them pause on the front porch. Bree’s already wet like she said, but now her hair’s truly fucked. There’s no denying that. “Really, I could foot the heat of your neighbors,” Bree offers, not really wanting to go back into the rain.

Calum chuckles beside her. “Let’s say me and the HOA are on thinner ice than before.”

“Thanks. Even though I’m getting you wet. Just want to say that now before we’re both drowning in this downpour.”

“No problem.”

The second her sopping wet shoes hit the first stair, Bree definitely notes the air is cooler now. And it could be because she was already wet once before. And somehow had managed to adapt in the two minutes she was inside Calum’s place to the warmth. Now in the rain again, the chill is definitely hitting her bones. She runs again to her car. Her keys are clicking between her fingers.

Her grip slips around her keyes and she curses before picking them up. Calum’s already positioned at the trunk, waiting on her. It’s a bit of embarrassment that heats her cheeks, sitting inside her car. She hadn’t meant to make anyone else do so much extra work or have anyone else subject themselves to the rain. With fingers gripping tight to the steering wheel, she leans out of the window just a little to let Calum know she’s ready.

Thankfully, she hadn’t coasted super far out from Calum’s driveway. Bree keeps an eye on the nose of her car. It’s slow of course with only one person behind to push. When they get just pass the mailbox, Bree gives a shout and puts the car into park. She throws her head into the steering wheel, exhaling.

Behind her closed lids, all she seems to see is the cut of Calum’s jaw. Why did he have to be hot? Why wouldn’t he have been just some decent guy with two dogs? But he had to be hot and willingly to subject himself to the rain for her. She still has to call a tow truck and Drew, and her dad. There’s not much time for wallowing in the misery life liked to hand her.

Throwing up her door, she finds Calum right at the driver side passenger door. “I can throw your clothes into the wash while you use my phone. Sound okay?”

The rain is clinging to the lines of his face, washing down his cheek and riding the line of his jaw. Bree tries to focus instead of his eyes. But even the rain there, on his lashes, is so goddamn beautiful. “Thanks again, Calum.”

“Don’t worry.” They walk back up his driveway. Calum lets her go ahead of him to get inside. But he leads her down to the bathroom, where Bree stands, still dripping water onto his floor.

The press that she worked so hard is gone. The roots have coiled around each other. The ends are curling and she knows soon, they’ll follow suit. It’s in the mirror that she sees the mascara’s run down her face. She can’t believe she has to look like this, showing up at a strangers door and that stranger being so attractive too.

“I’m literally a drowned rat,” Bree exhales.

“But a cute drowned rat,” Calum returns. In his hands, he holds a towel, washcloth, and a stack of dry clothes out to her. “Pardon that I lack any kind of underwear other than boxers, but I hope they suffice until your clothes are dry.”

Bree nods, heart thundering in her chest. Did he just call her cute? There’s no way her ears heard that. “Thanks. You’re like totally saving my ass right now. But also, like, I do have some clothes in my car. Just means going back outside.”

“Neither one of us is facing that hell storm again. You’ve braved it twice, Bree. By the way, the hot water’s a little fussy. I got it fixed recently but you still gotta talk sweet to it.”

“Noted, charm the hot water.”

Calum points out where to find other essentials in the bathroom and then backs out of the room with a tiny wave, lips lifting into a tiny smile. It feels nice under the warm run of the shower head. Bree definitely needed a little bit of patience with the hot water but once the temperature evened out it became well worth it. Just her luck to work out like this. But she’s immensely grateful Calum’s so understanding. If not, she’d most likely wind up stranded, or she’d be tied up in someone’s basement.

It’s not a thought Bree likes lingering on. But it’s just a reality for her. She hadn’t necessarily helped herself. When the light first came on, she could’ve found a car shop nearby. She could’ve waited there for a few hours, got it fixed and saved herself this trouble. Bree won’t be making anymore negotiations when it comes to her car anymore. That’s a lesson that really only needs to be learned once and she’s received the message loud and clear.

Outside the shower, she takes in the gray t-shirt with splotches of white on the lower torso and sweatpants offered up to her. It feels all too intimate, to be wearing someone else’s clothes. Bree doesn’t know anything besides his name. And well, he has dogs. And he’s cute. And he has a fucking nice house. Though she hasn’t seen a lot of it, Bree already feels how cozy it is. It’s lived in, with decent space. It’s full. Calum’s house feels full even if it’s just him in the house with two dogs.

Bree likes that feeling, walking into a house and feeling how bright and warm it is. It told her more about Calum, that he had this very embracing and calm energy about it. But that didn’t fully negate the fact that he was a stranger. And she was a stranger to him and she was still standing in a towel. Slipping into the clothes presented, she gathers her clothes into the towel, hopefully to keep from making an even bigger mess of her evening.

Outside the door of the bathroom, Bree’s immediately greeted by one of the dogs. She’d guess they’re a toy poodle, but she can’t tell for certain. “Hi,” Bree coos, bending down to scratch behind one of their ears. “What’s your name?” The pink collar and tag tap just a little in the excited pants. “Oh, you look ear scratches huh, girl?”

“That’s Moose. Old man’s Duke. He’s not a big of people. So I apologize in advance.” Calum’s comes from further in the house. His t-shirt and shorts now changed into sweatpants and a ribbed tank.

“So Moose and Duke, your partners in crimes?”

“Moose isn’t mine, as sad as I am to admit it. She’s a friend and I’m just dog sitting for a little bit. Duke’s my precious old man.”

Bree’s heart shouldn’t clench like it does. Precious old man, why not just stick a knife into her chest. There’s no way to tell how long Calum’s had Duke but it’s abundantly clear that Calum adores Duke. “We can say Moose is your partner in crime too. Even if it’s just for a day.”

Calum chuckles. “Yeah. And as you can see, she’s not afraid to get what she wants.”

Bree nods, turning her attention back to Moose for just a moment and pressing a soft kiss to the top of the dog’s head.

“I can take those, by the way.”

Calum’s hand is outstretched, ready to take the damp clothes from her. Bree shouldn’t be staring at the veins in his hands and forearm. Nor should she be wondering what the back of his knuckles feel like against her cheek. But Bree could absolutely wonder how to prove to Calum’s old man that she was trustworthy--and that is a much safer thought.

Bree hands over the makeshift sack. “Thanks, again.”

It’s a curt nod. The smile seems genuine though. “I’ll get this into the wash.”

Bree stays where she is for the moment, both hands scratching at Moose’s chin.It’s safer to say here. It’s safer to just give into Moose and give her all the affection because if Bree stands, she’s going to do something reckless, like peek through a room or try to find the laundry room just to steal another glance at Calum.

His departure doesn’t last long enough. Calum comes padding back down the hallway, the soft recessed light reflecting off his skin. The hum and rumble of the washer is clear as it echoes throughout the house. “If you’re calling for a tow,” Calum starts, holding out his phone. It’s unlocked and on the keypad. “You’re risking the rain again.”

Bree groans sliding to her butt and resting against the wall. “You’re right. I’m just moving in with a friend for this new job and I didn’t anticipate my car breaking down during my drive.”

Calum leans into the wall opposite from her. “How far away is it?”

“Literally it’s like two blocks from here. A light came on and I didn’t pay attention to it and I’m just a fucking idiot.”

“Hey, no, it’s alright. Shit happens all the time.” Calum sides down the wall, squatting. “You can spend the night here. I know it’s only two blocks, but the weather’s a fucking mess. I can help you move and you can get your car towed to a shop. It all works out.”

Bree wants to tell him to shut the fuck up. She wants him to take back everything he just said. There’s no way she can survive a night in this man’s home. “I don’t want to impose. Maybe the rain will let up.”

Calum shakes his head. “Really, just spend the night. We can transfer whatever you need into my truck in the morning and once the truck gets your car I can take you to your friend’s house.” Calum smiles softly when he spies Moose curling up into Bree’s lap. “Besides, Moose likes you. I think she’d be sad to see you go.”

“But your old man Duke, I might have to put some work in with him.”

“He’s gotten better. Just talk sweet to him.”

Their laughter is soft. Bree rests her head into the wall. She still has his phone and she’s reminded that she ought to call Drew. “You’re right. I don’t want to go back out into that rain.”

He motions with two fingers and Bree hands back the phone. The unlock is quick. “Make your calls. I got tea, coffee. I think there’s hot chocolate if you want that. If you haven’t eaten, we can figure that out too.”

“You do realize that I’m like practically a stranger. I showed up at your door like a fucking drowned rat. You didn’t even tell me my mascara had run.”

He knows all that. Calum doesn’t need to be told that. And sure it probably sounds dumb and definitely a little stupid. But there was something about Bree that makes him worry less. It helps that she hasn’t flipped, hasn’t given out any indication that she knows who he is. And maybe it’s not safe to assume that she doesn’t know. But he has a strong feeling that if she did, they wouldn’t be having such an easy conversation. His gut would tell him if something was suspicious.

“You looked pretty stressed out. I didn’t think you needed to know that your mascara was giving you raccoon eyes.”

With the phone to her ear, Bree glares at Calum. It’s playful and he laughs in returns, before pushing up off the wall. Moose sits with Bree but watches as Calum carries himself into the kitchen. He ought to be ashamed. He ought to feel more guilty at the way he wonders what she looks like beneath his clothes. And it doesn’t help, not at all, that she looks cuter, in his clothes than he ever did.

It’s comforting to know now at least Bree seemed to be less tress. When she first stood in front of him on his porch, her brown eyes were blown, shifting her weight. She looked somewhere between frustrated and almost amused. Like she had expected something like this to happen to her. Though, there was still an air of apprehension and worry.

“I’m safe,” Bree says. Her voice carries throughout the house. “Just some car trouble. I’ll get it seen in the morning. Yeah, yeah, I’m okay.”

The conversation soon ends but it’s only another minute before her voice picks up again. “Hey, Dad. Yeah, it’s me, Bree. Had to borrow another phone for like two seconds. Anyways, car went flatline on me. But I’m okay and safe for the night. Gonna get it checked out in the morning.”

There’s a pause. Calum pours a glass of water, figuring that’s the safest bet until Bree gets off the phone. “Yeah, Dad. Really I’m safe. In a..hotel...No the car’s not just out on some highway. Just--” Whatever Bree was about to say clearly doesn’t outrank her father’s statement. “I don’t have an estimate yet. Hopefully it’s not too much. I don’t know. I’ll worry about that tomorrow….Thanks. Love you too.”

Bree’s glad the house isn’t a maze. It makes finding Calum a lot easier. But as she settles onto the barstool, sliding his phone back to him, she does wish she had more time to mentally prepare for Calum’s gaze. His eyes are warm, and inviting. That’s not a thing she needs to be worried about right now. Right now, she’s got to worry about her car and moving, and paying to fix her car.

“Have you eaten yet?” Calum turns to the fridge, listing off the options he has, even offers ordering something for her if none of his options sound appealing. “Tea, coffee, hot chocolate. Which I’m like ninety percent sure I already offered, sorry.” It’s paired with a soft chuckle.

Bree did eat. She made sure to text her dad when she stopped and when she got back onto the road. But maybe it’s just the adrenaline, the stress of her car, and maybe it’s partially something to do so she doesn’t say something stupid, or completely left field. “Hot chocolate would be nice.”

Just as Calum sets the mug down, a buzzer sounds. Both dogs bark for a moment before quieting down. “I put a blanket in the dryer. Just in case you were cold,” Calum explains. “Did you want it or is that overkill?”

“You--you didn’t have to. But I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, no, of course.” He knows he’s staring. Her smile is bright and shows off all her teeth too. Like she’s not afraid of anything, or maybe she’s learned to put on a smile even when she’s terrified. His gaze lingers a little too long on her lips. The way she works her teeth over the skin, but they’re still full. Calum wonders if they’re soft too. “So,” he starts, spinning to face his cupboards, “you said you were moving? Just a couple blocks down?”

Bree nods, eyes trailing down his shoulders and back that flex as he grabs onto the blue box. “Yeah-yeah. Got a new job and a friend of mine agreed to let me crash with them until I got an apartment. Wanted to save up some more money before throwing myself into the woes of financially living alone.”

Calum hums, tearing open a packet. “Sounds like we’ll be neighbors. At least for a little bit.” Paws click on the floor. Too light to be Moose and when Calum glances down, he spies Duke lapping at his water bowl in the kitchen.

“I mean, it’s a couple blocks,” Bree insists. If she says that, if she puts more distance between them, she won’t be tempted to drive through his neighborhood and she won’t be tempted to make a joke about staying over more often. She won’t make any moves tonight either.

“Close enough,” Calum says. “A couple blocks, a couple minutes. I’m sure you’ll always remember this street though, after tonight.”

“Oh, definitely.”

Her drink finished, Calum hands over the mug. Their fingers brush, just a split second in time, hardly enough time to really know it’s happening, yet they know anyway. Bree tightens her hold around the warming ceramic. It’s still too hot to really take a drink. But Bree sips from it anyway, after a couple gentle blows onto the dark brown sweet drink. She prays, chants to herself, that she most definitely should not linger too long on the thought or the way her skin felt electric.

“You sure you’re not hungry? I really don’t mind ordering you something.” Calum clears his throat. There aren’t many times Calum’s glad that the bar seat has a counter at waist height, but this time in particular he’s grateful. His spine still tingles just a little.

“I ate already, thanks.”

“Any dessert? I’ve got ice cream and there’s a great place not too far that delivers cookies.”

Dessert. It’s not even the fact that Calum asks. It’s how he asks. His brows shooting up on his face, thumb pointing over his shoulder to his fridge and freezer. It’s the way he bites his own lip, leaning into the counter on his elbows. Bree’s not sure if it’s some secret language, if he’s asking more than just the tub of sugary confection in his freezer.

“Really, I’m okay. Thank you.”

Calum nods. “Yeah, okay. No problem. Well, I gotta check on that load of laundry. But feel free to watch TV, snuggle with Moose, see if you can champion Duke’s heart. You’re free to whatever’s in the kitchen.”

It’s a curt nod as Bree works down another sip of her drink before Calum leaves. Once she’s sure he’s gone down back into the depths of his place, she drops her head onto her neck. Fuck me, she mouths. She can text Drew, let them know the true details of what the hell is going on. Though Bree knows the response will be a swift, You better fuck him and I want deeds.

Her phone. It’s still dead. Turning on the stool, she spots her purse still on the coffee table and both dogs curled up on one end of the couch. They watch her with curious eyes as she walks over. Thankfully an outlet is nearby with a phone charger already snug into the outlet. Nothing was plugged into it. She hoped Calum wouldn’t mind for the time being.

Plugging in her phone, Bree settles onto the far end of the couch, letting Duke have his space. But Moose is not shy and walks over, head resting in Bree’s lap. “Help me win over Duke, Moose.”

Moose’s response is turning to her back, gazing expectedly. “Okay, sure, since you’re yanking my leg,” Bree laughs, rubbing her hand over Moose’s belly. Duke still doesn’t seem bothered by her presence. She can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Though she’s inclined to say good. He could be barking, and yet, he’s just watching, assessing Bree.

“I get it,” Bree states to Duke. “You’re thinking, sussing me out. I respect that.” Bree didn’t want to be the type to be nosey but staring at the living room and the house itself. What did Calum do? Drew had a decent break in the producing and DJing world and bought a house up here. Does Calum do something similar? And if so, why wasn’t he more worried about having some stranger in his house?

Bree’s phone buzzes. Text messages from Drew and her dad. Old alerts from various group chats and email alerts that were all muted all she drove. Just as she reaches back for it, a snout presses into her hand. “Moose, you’re literally getting snuggles right now,” Bree laughs.

“Oh, he’s not going to like that.”

Bree looks up to Calum who’s grinning and then down to the snout. She gasps at the sight of Duke resting his head against her hand, his body curled up next to her. “Oh my god, oh my god. Is this real life?” she whispers, looking up to Calum.

“Yeah, this is real life.”

“I would literally die for you and I just met you,” Bree chuckles mostly to herself, gently petting the top of Duke’s head.

Calum tries not to think about how Duke really isn’t all that fond of new people. And for him to curl up next to Bree is an amazing feat. Does Duke sense something Calum can’t? Or maybe they’re both sensing the same thing, that Bree’s striking and funny. And above all, she’s safe. It’s almost like Calum’s known her forever, but maybe Calum just wants to feel that, so it makes everything he’s feeling and on the verge of doing make sense.

“You do realize I literally don’t care if you want to change the channel,” Calum returns, settling on the opposite end of the couch.

“This is literally your house! I don’t want to be disrespectful.”

Bree is a puddle of dogs and is sinking into the cushions of his couch. Calum risks a glance from the movie. He thinks it’s one in the Batman franchise but he can’t be sure. The curls have become evident, even though she’s tried to tame them into a high bun. Her cheeks are full, much like his.

“So what brings you into town? I think you mentioned a new job? You don’t have to get too deep into it if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah, I interned remotely at this magazine for a while. Wrote articles, did some shoots for them. It was mostly music based, looking at underground and indie artists. They had to lay some folks off. But I was already looking to go elsewhere. Got hired and getting paid more so now I’m moving into the city since it’s not a remote position. My friend Drew’s letting crash with her. I got hired like last week so I hardly had any time to find a place or anything.”

“Drew? Like Drew with the dreads who’s literally DJing at almost every club in this fucking state Drew?”

“You know her?” Bree asks.

“Yes! I met her in the studio a couple times. I didn’t even realize she was in the neighborhood.”

“Studio?” Bree figured Calum had to be a creative type and very successful at that. She just hadn’t suspected that thought to be true.

“I dabble,” Calum returns, shrugging his shoulders. Dabble sounds betters, doesn’t put too much pressure or anything.

“Looks like dabbling is working out well for you.”

“So, do you shoot shows for certain bands or just whoever?”

“Just whoever. In some ways I want to be on the cutting edge. A few bands from the old magazine I covered caught a wave. I don’t want to say I’m the reason why, but,” the sentence trails off into a fit of giggles.

“But you’re the reason why,” Calum concludes with a laugh. The two of them talk for hours. Bree telling Calum about the embarrassing trip to the gas station when she realized she had pulled in the wrong way to fill up her tank today and how when she was a kid she’d constantly mix up her left and her right. She still does if she’s honest, so she’s the worst person to ask for direction.

Calum doesn’t share a lot, the occasional story about when he and his friends lived a house together and going a little too hard on the whiskey in coffee and how once he split his pants during a jig. Though mostly Calum just let’s Bree talk. He finds that she can go a mile a minute but she’s good about pulling at certain strings. When she brings up knowing Drew since they were kids, and Calum mentions his friends, she asks about them. Just what it was like growing up with them and what about living with them that he misses.

“Honestly, I’d rather talk to you than be interviewed by any other talk show hot for a decade at least.” Calum states it only after realizing it’s nearing midnight. Michael’s come and gone to pick up Moose. Bree’s hot chocolate has turned cold.

“It’s because I hate interviewing people. I like having conversations,” Bree returns. Duke’s settled between them, facing Calum now but doesn’t shy away when Bree scratches along his back.

“I’m not much of a talker, normally.”

“If that’s your way of saying I’m talking too much, you can just say it. I’m used to it.”

Calum shakes his head. “No, no, not at all. It’s just, you’re easy to talk to, that’s all.” Bree curls up, feet tucked under herself as she faces Calum. HIs t-shirt seems to swallow her up but also she wears it like she owns it, the front tucked into the band of the sweatpants just a little. “Like really easy to talk to,” Calum whispers, trying not to imagine the sight of her beneath him. He hasn’t had something like this--a conversation that could last hours and the ease to almost spill his guts-- in years outside of the guys.

“I know I’ve probably said this like a thousand times, but really thank you. For helping me out. It means a lot.” Bree looks up from her lashes. She knows that look that Calum’s giving her. It’s the eyes from when he questioned dessert. She didn’t want to believe that he was into her, not like that at least.

“You--Really, it’s nothing.”

His gaze hasn’t faltered, as if he’s reading every thought behind her skull. It’s intense and god, it’s not the thing she needs. Keep it together, she reprimands herself. “I’m just, I’m going to dump this.” Bree stands, taking her mug into the kitchen.

“No, no let me,” Calum rushes, pushing to his feet. “You’re the guest.”

Bree wishes Calum had stayed on the couch. She needed to get away, just to breath and think clearly for two seconds. But Calum’s right behind her and his hand reaches out behind her to take the mug. At the sink, they face each other. Close enough that she can feel just how warm he is, smell the Old Spice body wash she saw under the sink on his skin.

“Really, I don’t mind. You’re already doing a lot today.”

Calum didn’t realize just how tall Bree was until now. She stands just about eye to eye with him, only off by a few inches. Four or five, if Calum had to venture a guess. And it would be so easy to kiss her. Just drop his chin a hair and capture her full pouty lips. “Helping someone in need isn’t a lot.”

Bree exhales her laughter. “It’s not a lot when you’re a good person, that’s for sure.” She tugs at the mug just a little, pulling into her body just a hair. There’s not much space between them at it stands. “Please,” she whispers. She doesn’t even know what she’s saying please for. Is it please let me wash the damn mug and walk away? Or is please just kiss me already so there’s no more dancing around this tension?

Calum moves the mug, both of them moving along with his instrumentation. The mug settles into the basin of the sink with a soft thud, the spoon clicking against the sides. “Please what?”

And the words are falling from her lips before she can stop herself. “Kiss me.”

Calum exhales just a hair and cups her jaw into his palm. Bree meets him though, closes the already centimeters between them. Their lips touch for a brief moment. It feels like the first sip of ice cold water on a hot water. It’s satisfying, makes you exhale in relief and it’s only in that moment as the first slides down your throat that you realize how thirsty you’ve been. Calum secures a hold to her waist, pushing her into the counter. Their lips meet again, and again, slightly harsh exhales as hands pull at t-shirts and tanks.

Calum trails a hand under the hem of the t-shirt, running his palm over her stomach and side. Bree shudders at the touch, head falling back on her neck. Calum seizes the opportunity to lay a trail of kisses across her throat. Her sighs are like literal music to his ears. He sucks at the skin to hear it again. And he’s greeted with something much better. Bree moans, arms locking around his neck. Her fingers dance along his shoulder and back and when her head finally reconnects, she reconnects her mouth to Calum’s.

The kitchen turns into a bedroom. All Bree focuses on is the feel of Calum against her, as shirts are shed and pants too. Calum swallows down every sound she gives him. He drinks in the sight of her, head thrown back into his pillows, and legs wrapped around his waist. Bree kisses along his biceps, teeth grazing over the tattoos on his skin. Their senses fill with each other, the sighs, the moans, the pleas, the encouragement and even the awkward shuffle and giggles. Calum never wants to hear his name for another set of lips ever. Not with the way it falls so easily from Bree’s mouth. Bree hums when she hears the grunted curses Calum exhales as his hips rock into hers.

With Calum’s arm draped over her naked waist, he presses a kiss to her cheek. Bree turns to face him, a grin at her lips. “I’m washing that damn mug. Just so you know.”

Calum laughs, shoulders shaking and he squeezes at her waist. “Why am I not surprised at that fact?”

“I don’t care if I have to sneak out of the bed at 5 in the morning. I’ll do it.”

And true to her word, Bree does wash the morning. It’s helped of course when Calum’s alarm goes off and in the shuffle of him rousing awake and trying to turn if off, Bree slips out from the sheets. She throws on his t-shirt again and bolts to the kitchen. The morning is nice though, though she has to steal clothes from the trunk of her car before they can transfer all the boxes into Calum’s SUV.

Calum closes the trunk down, wearing the t-shirt she borrowed and in jeans. Sunglasses cover his face while a trucker hat hides away the curls. “Tow truck said what time again?”

“10 am. So another,” Bree checks her phone, “10 minutes, hopefully. Thanks, again.”

“Really, don’t worry about it. And you can stop saying thanking me. I know it’s a thing you’re probably going to do like a thousand more times.”

Bree swats at his arm. “Look here, I’m trying to be polite. You can be a sour puss elsewhere.”

Calum cackles. “Sour puss? That’s a new one. Also, you sure you don’t want any breakfast? I know a place nearby. Great pancakes.”

“Not much of a breakfast person.”

He nods. “Noted. What about lunch?”

“Yeah, I’m definitely a lunch person.”

“Good, because they have good sandwiches and fries too.”

“Was-Did you just ask me on a lunch date?”

The rumble of a truck cuts through the open air. Both of them turn to see the tow truck coming down the block. Once Bree gets the finalized details about which car shop they’re taking her car and giving said car shop the okay to call her once it’s ready, Bree turns to Calum. “You never answered my question and if it is a date, I’m paying.” Calum insisted on helping her out by paying for the tow.

Calum’s smile is bright. “I’m not a cheap date.”

“I’m sure you’re not.”

“Is Drew home? Do you have a key? We can drop your stuff off, eat, and then check up on your car?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“I know you said you’re bad with directions, but I need you to navigate.” It’s not hard or long before they reach Drew’s place. Not quite long enough for a full song to finish. Drew’s out on the porch when the two of them roll up.

She laughs, leaning onto the railing. “Bree when you told me you got stranded I thought you landed on the side of the road. Fancy meeting you again, Calum.”

“Hi, Drew. Turns out we’re neighbors.”

Drew arches her eyebrow, looking at back at Bree. Bree holds up her hands. “I’ll explain everything later. Over dinner.” Calum tries to bite back his grin, but glances over to Bree. The question dances across his eyebrows, everything everything? Bree rolls her eyes, going to the trunk.

____________________

When a knock sounds at Calum’s door, he almost doesn’t answer it. That laziness is helped by the fact that he was almost on the verge of sleep. But another knock immediately follows it. “Coming!” he calls out. He checks his phone first, but sees no text from Bree.

As the door cracks open, Calum’s greeted with a bright smile. Bree stands at his door. No rain this time, no mascara running down her face. Just her full cheeks and pouty lips and bright smile. “You said you’d text me.”

“I made cookies,” she returns, holding up the carrying tray. “As a thank you.”

Calum laughs, opening the door wider to let her in. Bree walks in and immediately spots Duke on the couch. “My precious boy!” she coos.

Calum takes the tray knowing that she’ll get distracted soon enough. It’s been a little over three weeks since Bree showed up at his doorstep. Most days they call, or text. Occasionally, Calum drags her out of the house to grab dinner with him or a couple drinks. There’s some unspoken rule, an energy between them. They keep it casual. But even still conversations on the phone can go until 2 in the morning. Calum just listening to the sound of her voice. He asks nearly any question under the sun just to keep her talking.

Bree asks more about the band, never crossing a line. Mostly to see how the other guys are doing, especially their dogs. Calum tells her a bit more about the music he’s making but work is mostly kept separate. Bree doesn’t want Calum to think she’s using him. Calum asks about projects but never makes her divulge more than she’s comfortable with.

Calum cracks open the tray and sees a mass of chocolate chip cookies displayed in front of him. He picks one off the top and the center practically melts in his mouth. He hums at the taste but knows there’s no way he can have that many cookies in his house. “This is too many cookies,” he calls out over the bite.

“That’s why it’s called sharing!” Bree returns, kissing the top of Duke’s head. She wonders into the kitchen, taking a cookie as well. “Did I interrupt a nap? I’m sorry.” His eyes are puffy and he keeps blinking.

“Was trying,” he admits, lower back resting into the edge of the counter.

“I’m sorry! I’ll go. Oh my god, really. I didn’t mean to intrude.” Bree is quick to push away from the counter and almost gets to the front door. Calum’s quick though and wraps her waist up in her arms.

“Nap with me?”

“I’m not sleepy. I just wanted to stuff my face with cookies and cuddle Duke.”

“You can do that, just stay with me please.” He buries his nose into her neck, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. He covers her neck in kisses between pleas. Bree giggles at the light scratch of Calum’s scruff. He’s started letting the bread grow out, even though it’s a slightly pitiful excuse of a beard.

“Fine, fine, fine. I’ll stay.”

With her head resting on his chest, she listens to the steady rhythm of his heart. His hold is warm, but not uncomfortable. Duke’s at their feet and Bree thinks maybe she could take a nap. It wouldn’t hurt at all. Especially not if it was a nap on Calum’s chest. It was crazy to her, to think that fate had stranded on the side of a street but also introduced her to a great friend. And maybe there was more. Maybe there’s more for them down the road. But for now, they had an understanding.

“Did you think when you showed up at my door like a drowned rat this is what would happened?” Calum’s voice is soft and a little mumbly.

“No, I was bracing for you to be a serial killer. And instead you’re a serial cuddler, so I’ll that that any day of the week, hands down.”

They laugh, chest shaking against each other. “I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

“It’s much appreciated,” Bree says in a whisper. She lifts her head just a little. His eyes are close, lashes practically brushing long his cheek. She lightly traces the moles around his mouth and cheek.

“That’s not napping, Missy.” Her response is a soft kiss and Bree rests her head against on his chest, arms squeezing at his waist. The moment is still and feels like it could never be broken.

______________ Tagging @5-secondsofcolor for your morning reads.

#calum hood #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #calum hood one-shot #calum hood blurb #calum hood imagine #calum hood x black OC #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5sos imagine #5sos blurb #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer blurb #h writes

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gaycrouton · 4 years

Note

could you write a fic where scully gets really horny on her period and working with mulder certainly isn’t helping? (pre-relationship) i don’t wanna be too descriptive or anything because i trust that you’ll think of something perfect!

It was the changing levels of progesterone, testosterone, and estrogen in the system that had a dramatic effect on libido during the menstrual cycle. Scully had learned that when she was twelve and got her first period, but known it in practice officially in medical school. One day she’d be normal, the next day all she could think about was when she could get home, lay down on her bed, and fuck herself senseless.

Some things never changed.

She squeezed her thighs together under the table as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She felt like all the blood in her body had rushed to her groin and her lips were swelling more and more each passing minute as her arousal grew. She was starting to feel uncomfortable with the fact she wasn’t sure if her tampon was leaking or if she was just that aroused. All she knew for certain was that she just wanted to lean back in her chair, spread her legs, and let her hand go to work.

No.

What she really wanted was for Mulder to walk over here, part her thighs, and bury his face between them. Or maybe she just wanted to go over there, straddle his legs, and fuck him until his chair broke. She wanted him to know her body was his to do whatever he pleased with.

She let out a small cough as she clenched her thighs together again, glancing at the clock only to see five minutes had passed until she last looked. She knew her face was flushed red, probably matching the blush on her chest and in between her thighs, the blood pumping rapidly to keep up with her heart. It was like a tell she couldn’t conceal.

Scully wished he was as easy to read. Sure, she’d seen his porn collection by accident once or twice, she knew he had a libido, but she often tried to restrict herself from thinking about him in that light too much. Tried being the operative word. She wondered if Mulder would be the type to be repulsed by menstruation? Or would he deem it just a part of life? She remembered the criticisms of her past lovers vividly - one even fatally going so far as to compare her to a ‘bitch in heat’. It was usually the blood that threw them off. Apparently they all forgot that towels and showers exist.

“Scully, are you okay?”

Her attention shot up to the man causing her current predicament. She always thought he was sexy, but today it was harder than normal to keep her thoughts off of that fact. His cologne smelled better, his faint stubble looked tantalizing, and his deep baritone felt like warm honey being poured on her. “W-what?”

Yesterday had been really tough. She was cramping the entire day, she felt irritable, and Mulder had gotten the brunt of it. While he clearly had been initially offended, even snapping back at her a few times, halfway through the day he’d caught sight of her pain-stricken face as she clutched her side, and became substantially more patient. His kindness and understanding had drastically improved her day, especially when he’d given her some dark chocolate he’d bought just for her.

Today, however, that same kindness and understanding was having a different effect on her. Knowing that she was still suffering, he kept rubbing her back or massaging her shoulders gently every time he passed by her chair - which today felt like far more than he usually did. Small touches that were usually forbidden only being given under the guise of comfort.

His fingers touching her body had the effect of a match being struck. It felt like she was sucking all the oxygen from around her as her body was set ablaze. The last time he did it she even let out a little accidental whimper.

She’d been able to pass it off as pain from the cramp, but he’d been staring at her with an odd smirk every time she caught his gaze.

Like now.

“I was just asking if you’re feeling okay?” he clarified.

He leaned back in his chair as he said this and started playing with a pencil with both hands. Her eyes were drawn to the skin of his revealed forearms, his shirt bunched around his elbows. Scully could see the muscles flexing underneath his olive skin as he rotated the pencil, rubbing the tip over the pad of his index finger.

She licked her lips as she thought about what else those fingers could rub.

“Yeah, Mulder. I’m just still a little under the weather,” she shrugged, turning her attention back to the screen of her computer… which had apparently automatically shut down from lack of use without her even noticing.

Mulder maintained her gaze for a moment before his eyes dropped to the front of her shirt, instantly darting back to his own computer as he feigned work.

Did he just ogle her breasts?

Her brow furrowed as a result of the decidedly un-Mulder like lack of tact, and she looked down to see if something was wrong - only to see her nipples were prominently visible through the thin cotton of her shirt. Jesus Christ.

Scully hunched over in her seat a little bit, as if that would do anything to conceal her chest. She really started to feel like she might as well write ‘Hi, I’m horny’ on her forehead.

“Um, I’m sorry. Is it too cold in here?” he asked in concern, already pivoting around in his chair in preparation of getting up and walking to the thermostat.

“Uh, n-,” she began, before deciding she’d rather blame it on temperature rather than her reaction to his proximity. “Yeah, thank you.”

Even though she was pretending to be doing work, she couldn’t keep her eyes from watching him stand up and-

Oh.

She gasped, but bit her lip to keep from making anymore noise. From the looks of it, she wasn’t the only one aroused.

He passed by her on his way to the thermostat and she saw he was tenting. Not as bad as she’d seen him do before, but it was significant enough to be slightly visible. Was it because of her?

“Sorry, I didn’t realize it was cold,” he laughed awkwardly as he tinkered with the settings.

She didn’t say anything as she continued looking through the documents on her computer, trying to find some menial task to occupy herself with while still looking busy in case he glanced at her screen.

God, she’d never wished she had x-ray vision more than she did right now. She’d seen it before, sure, but seeing Mulder’s flaccid penis during an exam and seeing Mulder’s hard cock after catching a glimpse of her tits were two drastically different things. Scully risked a second glance as he walked back to his desk. She could tell he wasn’t fully erect, but it was clearly enough to get her hand around. Enough to stay up on its own as she bent her head down and wrapped her lips around-

“Scully, did you hear me?”

Her eyes shot up and she realized she’d been daydreaming while glaring a hole through the desk where she wanted to see most of all. She saw a light blush had smattered across Mulder’s face as he rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I asked if this was better?”

Now she was sitting in the same predicament, only with the knowledge of Mulder’s eager cock sitting a few feet away as the room started heating up while she felt like she was going to self combust into a ball of fire.

“Yeah, much better. Thank you,” she smiled.

He smiled back and something about it made her feel like a hungry lion watching an innocent lamb. Did he have any idea how much she wanted to jump his bones at this very moment?

Forcing her attention back to her computer for what felt like the millionth time today, she looked at the digital clock in the corner only to see a measly three minutes had passed since she last checked.

This was the longest day of her entire life.

She decided cleaning her mailbox would be tedious enough to distract her, while simple enough to be easily fixed when she inevitably got distracted from her distraction and messed up.

From: Dr. Lewis

Subject: Thank you for the autopsy report

Delete

From: Mom

Subject: Dinner tomorrow?

Reply: Yes

From: DCsexysingles69

Subject: You want to see this!

Her mouse hovered over the delete button before curiosity got the better of her. She clicked the link and, as expected, her browser started going crazy with pop ups. She was glad she wasn’t connected to the speakers right now, because she feared what audio was coming from this.

Photos of sprawled out naked women and men with impossibly large erections littered the screen. She tried to hide her surprise with a cough as she adjusted herself in her seat. Mulder glanced over at her, but luckily turned back to his work.

On a normal basis, she would have been exiting out of the tabs rapidly. But there was only a half an hour left for the day and there was a brown haired man on the screen that looked brooding enough for her tastes.

Scully’s eyes travelled down the man’s exposed torso before resting on his massive erection. Every animal instinct in her made her body crave friction and pressure. If her clit was yelling before, it was screaming for attention now. She squeezed her legs together before glancing out of the corner of her eye, making sure Mulder wasn’t looking.

He wasn’t.

As discreetly as she could, she squirmed in her seat, letting her hand fall subtly on her lap before allowing two fingers to slide in between her thighs and press against her center as best she could. She bit her lip and retracted them as quickly as she could. The temporary relief felt amazing, but only made the intense desire for more even higher.

Someone once told her the average man thought about sex once every second. While the statistic seemed like an extreme hyperbole - it felt accurate to her current predicament. Looking around the room, she took a mental inventory of everything it would feel great to grind against. The chair, the corner of the desk, the edges of the tables, Mulder’s lap, Mulder’s cock. She let her eyes flutter shut as she thought about it. He’d let her. She knew he would. If she stood up right now, walked over there, straddled him on the chair and ground herself on him until she came - he would have no complaints.

What would he sound like? Would he be nervous and timid? Or would he ravish her the first moment he got? She felt like her arousal had a heart beat and she swore she’d stand up only to see a wet spot where she sat.

Her eyes snapped open at a harsh knock resounded from behind her. “Come in,” Mulder called out.

She’d just gotten her hand to her mouse when she heard the voice of A.D. Skinner boom. “Sorry for dropping by unexpe- Agent Scully? May I ask what you’re doing?”

She craned her head over her neck as she started rapidly clicking on the exit tabs, “I was checking my mail and spam came up. I’m so sorry,” she rambled. For every tab that closed, it felt like another opened. The seconds seemed to tick by, punctuated by the sounds of her clicking the mouse before eventually just stabbing her finger against the power button.

Mulder was staring at her with a look of pure confusion, but she felt she couldn’t meet his eye. Instead, she turned back to Skinner, clearing her throat, and said, “I’m sorry.”

Skinner looked just as embarrassed as she inevitably did, and just chuckled humorlessly while adjusting his glasses. “It happens to the best of us.”

“Is there something we can help you with, Sir?” Mulder asked slowly.

Skinner shook his head, snapping himself back to the matter and stammered. “Yeah, yeah. Uh, I just came down to let you both know I need to see you both for a meeting tomorrow to go over the case reports you sent to me yesterday.” As an afterthought he added, “Why is it so hot in here?”

“Were the reports okay?” she asked, skipping over his last question.

She gave them both a stern look as to say ‘what do you think?’ before saying “Let’s just say I have some questions. My office at eleven, okay?” he stated as he started backing out of the room. Skinner seemed to glance at her one last time after avoiding her gaze the entire time he talked, and he stopped in his tracks.

“Sir?” she prompted, feeling uncomfortable in her state with Skinner anywhere near her.

“Sorry, I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you so red,” he laughed. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

If there was a scale, she just went from crimson to scarlet. He laughed at her once more before telling them to have a goodnight as he closed the door.

The room was silent as she stared at where he’d just been standing, not wanting to turn around and face Mulder. Apparently he didn’t need her to face him. “What did you do?” he laughed.

Pivoting in her seat, she looked at him and saw his eyes were brimming with curious amusement. “I accidentally opened a spam email and porn popped up,” she replied.

“Oh really?” he prodded, leaning back in his seat. “Was it good?” he teased, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh yeah, Mulder,” she deadpanned. “How did you know?”

“Because you looked like you were enjoying yourself,” he replied with a lilt in his voice.

Her eyes shot to him as electricity ran through her body. She should have known better than to-

“Kidding, kidding,” he laughed, raising his hands in the air. She looked at him pensively for a moment, not sure if he was being honest or not. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

She wasn’t one to get off from fear, so her arousal had diminished greatly within the past few minutes. Subsided, might be more correct. She let out a slow breath, looking at the clock on the wall. 4:45.

“Yeah, I’m just still feeling a little under the weather,” she nodded, grabbing her purse. “If you don’t mind I might leave a little early today. I just want to go home,” she explained, standing up.

“Yeah, sure,” he nodded supportively.

She stood up and started walking towards the door, her well wishes on her tongue when he called out. “I hope you’re able to find some relief at home,” he said in a joking tone.

She turned around to glare at him when she saw he’d stood up, that slight tent in his pants still visible. A smile broke out on her face as she looked up to him, a devilish playfulness gleaming in his eye.

“Goodnight, Mulder,” she said with finality.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he smiled.

I’ll see you in thirty minutes, she thought to herself, that familiar ache resuming yet again in between her thighs as she left.

#x files #gaycrouton #my fanfiction #msr #mulder #scully #x files fanfic #smuttish

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prophetandprincess · 4 years

Text

The weather luckily held the next afternoon so Alex didn't have to change the meeting place with Olivia, though autumn had finally found its way to New York City as the leaves started to change. Alex found an empty bench at Washington Square Park after class and settled down to wait, having told Mrs. Nazari that it was still light and she would be safe getting home on her own. It had taken some convincing, but finally Mrs. Nazari relented and drove off.

There was a good deal of anxiety around this meeting, though Alex didn't think that Olivia posed a threat. She was more worried that Olivia was going to tell her that she was a lost cause. An even more terrifying thought was that Olivia was a terrible teacher and Alex would never know and continue to pay her to teach her the wrong thing. Still, even a little bit of assistance was better than just outright failing without at least trying to get some help.

It wasn't hard to spot Olivia when she rolled into the park on her bicycle, a little bit of sweat on her brow. The description she gave was accurate, she was a petite woman with black hair and wearing a leather jacket. However, she didn't mention that the bike would be battered, her jeans would be ripped, and the leather jacket looked as if it had been handed down from an older sibling. Still, there was something about Oliva that made it all look styled and not like a woman who had just thrown on old clothes. They met eyes and Olivia walked over, propping the bike against the back of the bench and swung her messenger bag off her shoulder.

"Sorry, I'm a little late and a lot sweaty," Olivia said as she took off her helmet and sat down next to Alex on the bench. Alex was surprised that her voice wasn't accented at all. "My last delivery was in Tribeca and I had to hustle to make it up here. Now, let's get to work and see how good your Russian is this far into the semester."

Getting down to business was something that Alex could appreciate, especially when she was paying for Olivia's time. Olivia did a basic greeting, which Alex could respond to, though Olivia winced at the pronunciation. However, it was only a sentence or two more before communication broke down completely. Olivia raised her eyebrow and Alex thought maybe her tutor realized she was going to earn every cent of that twenty-five dollars an hour. Either that or she was thinking about how to let Alex down gently.

"I'm going to be honest with you," Olivia started and Alex's stomach sank to her shoes, "this is going to take a bit more time and work than I originally thought. Would you be able to do two hours a week instead of one? You're already so far behind and if you fail the midterm there will be no coming back, especially with Kuznetsov."

"My scholarship is based on my GPA, I can't fail," Alex's voice wavered, trying not to sound too desperate. "I will meet with you every day of the week if you can save me and my GPA."

Olivia gave her a smile before shaking her head. "As much as I'd love the money, I don't think you're that far gone. Your problem is that you didn't grasp the basics and you're not speaking enough to get the pronunciation right. That means, the more we talk, the less we'll do it in English and maybe watch some kids programs in Russian. That will help."

"Watching Russian things I can do, however we aren't going to be saying much if we're only talking in Russian," Alex laughed before a thought struck her. "Before we shake on it, do you think you could translate something for me?"

"A bit of a test of my skills, I get it." Olivia nodded, turning serious. "What would you like me to translate? Chekov or Tolstoy?"

"A recording actually," Alex pulled out her phone and opened the voicemail James left her that first night he called when he sounded confused. "Just hit play."

Olivia took the phone and pressed it against her ear. After the first couple words her brow furrowed and she looked down to focus on the ground. Olivia listened to the message twice before she handed the phone back, looking very confused.

"Couldn't understand it?" Alex asked when Olivia didn't say anything right away.

"No, it just...doesn't make any sense," Olivia clarified after she gave herself a shake. "The man, whoever he was, sounds confused. He is saying that he is lost and needs information on the extraction location. He says that the rest of his team had been eliminated, but the mission was completed. However, the date and time he gave were not of this decade."

"That makes sense to me actually." Alex smiled as she put her phone back in her pocket, having made up the bare bones of a lie before having Olivia translate the message, though it had to be tweaked with the information provided. "I used to do volunteer work at a retirement home and one of the men was an immigrant from Russia. He had no family here, so I gave him my number to reach out if he needed something. As you can see, or hear, he has dementia and gets a little confused sometimes between present day and his time back in his home country. I think he might have been KGB or something."

"Ah," Olivia didn't look all that convinced, but didn't press Alex for more information. "So, I passed the test then?"

"With flying colors," Alex smiled. While she had no idea what that message said, there was no way Olivia would make up that information on the fly, it wasn't a believable lie, so she had to be telling the truth.

"Great, so when do you want to have your first session?" Olivia gave a small smile, though Alex got the feeling that the expression was one she didn't use often.

"Well, my apartment is in a bit of...disarray at the moment. I'm hoping that it will be set up soon. Do you want to shoot for Thursday afternoon? I can text you an address when I know where we will be." Alex didn't know what she would do if her apartment wasn't ready by Thursday. While she slept well last night, she had a feeling staying at Steve's apartment would get old. Especially when he returned wherever he was saving the world this week.

"It might have to be a bit later if I have deliveries, but I should be able to fit it in." Olivia grabbed her phone and sighed. "Sorry to make a deal and run, but I have something I have to go take care of. Exes, you'd think they'd take a hint after you dump them."

"No worries, I'll let you know about Thursday as soon as I do." Alex stood when Olivia did, not knowing if they should shake hands or something. "Be safe out there."

"Прощай," Olivia waved as she hopped on her bike.

"увидимся," Alex stumbled over before her new tutor was completely out of earshot.

Alex sat back down on the bench and took a deep breath. Well, at least that item was off her to-do list. Now, she had to figure out where she was going to sleep that night. All of her stuff was at Monica's and it was a bit weird to be staying at Steve's place when he was off saving the world, but there was something nice about being left alone. Alexandra Jade Harper, the woman who left her small Midwest town to be around people all the time, wanting to be alone. Maybe Hell would freeze over next.

Monica was still at her internship so Alex texted her saying she would be at her place when she got off work and headed that way on foot. While she could have taken the subway, it was a really nice autumn day and Alex wanted time to think over things. Even though Alex ran every morning, that was to keep her mind completely empty while her brain worked, focused on nothing but breathing and the music blaring in her ears. Walking calmed her in a different way, letting her thoughts wander but not trying to solve anything as she weaved through the businessmen and tourists. Alex arrived at the apartment building feeling a little less overwhelmed.

"Nice to see you smiling, Miss Harper," Raymond said with a bright smile as Alex started to head toward the elevator. "How are you doing with everything? Have they let you back into the apartment yet?"

"No, not yet and I'm taking it one day at a time, just like everyone else." Alex smiled as she walked over to the desk. "Have the rest of the residents calmed down or do you think I'm going to get kicked out once my lease is up for disrupting the peace?"

"A lot of questions, but everyone seemed happy that you're alright and their apartment was spared." Raymond whispered as if it was secret. "Then, there is Mrs. Dreyer, who swore that she saw a werewolf on the fire escape that night when the police questioned her. Then again, she had glaucoma and was watching old episodes of the Twilight Zone so loud that the windows were rattling when the police questioned her."

"Mrs. Dreyer, she lives on the fourth floor, right?" Alex had a vague recollection of a small woman with a bright red cane mumbling while Henry was helping collect her mail once. As the mailboxes were by floor, Alex could judge she was either on the third or fourth level.

"Yes, she has been living in this building since before her husband passed and Mr. LeBlanc bought the property. I think I heard that her husband was on Wall Street for a number of years, but I'm not sure if that's true. What I do know is that she gives great Christmas gifts to the staff, even though we have to swap them when she's gone because she can't tell us apart with her poor eyesight," Raymond said with a laugh.

"We're all going to get there one day, Raymond," Alex laughed as she tapped the front desk to show she was leaving.

"If we're lucky," Raymond said with a laugh.

"If we're lucky," Alex echoed, though her statement did not have the same playful tone.

Mrs. Dreyer didn't sound like the most reliable witness and Alex didn't know where she lived, so she just filed away the information Raymond had given her. She settled herself down on the floor of Monica's living room, hoping that maybe the conversation with Olivia would somehow magically improve her Russian. That was not the case, so Alex was more than happy for the distraction when the front door opened.

"You're actually where you said you'd be for once. I need to mark it in my calendar," Monica laughed as she walked in with a bag of food. "Gabe, I owe you a coffee."

"I don't know if I should be offended that you bet against me or flattered that Gabriel had faith in me." Alex smiled at the tall man, who winked at her as he kicked the door closed. "Then again, your distrust is a hundred percent justified, Monica."

"You're damn right it is," Monica laughed. "But since I love you, I brought you home Thai food anyway, along with a bubble tea because I want you to be happy and fed."

"You're an angel incarnate." Alex cleaned up her material and walked over to the counter where Gabriel and Monica were dividing up the food. Gabriel handed her the drink with a smile as Monica muttered to herself about Pad Thai and drunken chicken.

"How'd it go with that girl you were meeting?" Monica asked after popping a piece of shrimp into her mouth. "Do you have a tutor now?"

"I think so, we're supposed to meet Thursday for our first session so we'll see how it goes," Alex shrugged. "What about you guys, who was your day?"

"Well, Gabriel won't tell you because either he is running the longest con ever or he works for a very secret organization. I've yet to figure out if it is a good organization or if he is a hunchman to the next super villain." Monica said as she carted her food into the living room. "As for my day, there was another security breach so instead of working on the water filtration system and disbursement machine, I was interrogated yet again."

"That's awful," Alex shook her head as she picked up a Pad Tahi noodle that fell on the floor. " It just doesn't make sense. Oscorp is one of the most powerful corporations in the city, how is their security so easy to bypass?"

"It isn't," Gabriel said, which made both women look at him. "Don't ask me how I know that, but if someone has gotten through their security this many times is either one hell of a hacker or they already had access to the system, which would make it easier to get around the firewalls."

"Hence the interrogations," Monica sighed before a vicious stab of his fork. "However, if it was an inside job, you'd think they'd be able to track the individual using their clearance to get into the system. Right, Mr. Tech Genius?"

"I mean...not necessarily, but that also would take a bit of computer skill to hide that you were the one who accessed the computers," Gabriel shrugged. "However, after three security breaches, the hacker can't be that good if they can't find what they're looking for in the system. I'd give whoever it is two times, once to get into the system and then once to get the goods, but three times? It doesn't make sense that they are good enough to get in but not good enough to find what they're looking for."

"I'm guessing you don't know what they were looking for, Monica?" Alex asked, remembering the conversation she had with Monica about the two other scientists who had been attacked. "Did it have anything to do with the project that the other two attacked scientists were working on?

"Good to know that I wasn't going completely mad when I thought the same thing," Monica smiled between bites of food. "Unfortunately, they weren't telling me anything about the security breach and if I asked too many questions they would have taken it as a sign of guilt, so I don't have an answer. I know it sounds selfish, but I wish whatever the hacker wanted, he would just take so I can get back to my work."

"Speaking of attacks, how are you doing Alex? Mo told me about what happened to your apartment," Gabriel asked.

"Alright, though I think Monica is ready to get her apartment back and I'm ready to get back on a schedule."

Alex was pretty sure Monica mumbled something that didn't sound flattering about Alex's schedule, but when asked she shook her head. The conversation turned to the stories about other crimes in the city, which were numerous, along with the Devil in Hell's Kitchen and Spider-man. Monica and Gabriel had lively discussions about vigilantes and if they were helping or harming the city's efforts to catch criminals. Alex, tactfully, stayed out of the conversation given that she was friends with the aforementioned Spider-man and a few members of the Avengers, who some saw as only a step above vigilantes.

They played a couple rounds of Uno, Gabriel won almost every hand, and he said his goodnight as the Tonight Show started. Both Monica and Alex attempted to do some course work, but it wasn't much later before they said their goodnights as well. Alex really hoped that she would be able to have her second night of dreamless sleep as she settled down into the couch.

Alex wasn't exactly sure what it was that woke her up, but something brought her to consciousness in the early morning hours. At first she thought it was Monica getting up to go to the bathroom, but when there was no sound from that end of the apartment, Alex sat up to look around.

There was something looking through the window at her.

It had a terrible grin with horrid fangs, eyes glowing green as they caught the ambient light, and large ears. It was something right out of an old horror film, but far more effective when it was clinging to the wall of a New York City apartment building a couple stories off the ground. Alex was screaming before she even realized it and Monica was stumbling into the room, asking what was wrong.

"The window," Alex finally got out. She would never make fun of the heroine in a horror movie again, it was a natural reaction to scream and stutter like a broken doll when you see something that shouldn't exist.

Monica looked to where Alex was pointing, but the face was no longer visible through the panes. Alex scrambled off the couch and looked out all of the windows. There was no sign of whatever she had seen and turning around to see Monica's expression, Alex realized she must look like she had finally lost it. Unlike all the nightmares, Alex knew what she saw and that it was real.

"Something woke me up and when I looked out the window, there was some sort of creature looking in the window," Alex explained as she flopped down on the couch next to Monica, hand to her heart as it hammered away inside her chest.

"Are you sure you weren't dreaming again, love? I don't mean any offense," Monica said when she saw Alex's expression, "but you waking up screaming is not anything new for you."

"Okay, okay, that's fair," Alex sighed as she raked her hand through her hair as it had fallen out of her ponytail. "But this wasn't like anything in my nightmares. I swear to you, there was something outside that window, looking in."

"Well, one way or another, there is nothing we can do about it now. We can't call the police with no evidence and I'd rather not have them in here asking questions and looking for trouble. Even that cutie Sousa. Best to try and go back to sleep. We'll...we can figure something out in the morning," Monica gently rubbed Alex's back between the shoulder blades. "You want to come into my room? Safety in numbers and all that?"

"No, no you're right, it's probably nothing," Alex smiled as she patted Monica's knee. "I'm sorry for waking you. Go back to sleep."

"Are you sure?" Monica asked softly and Alex just nodded. "Okay, well, if you change your mind, I've been told I'm a fabulous cuddler."

Monica sat there a couple more moments, just to see if Alex would change her mind, before kissing her hair and headed into her bedroom. Alex waited until she heard the creaking of Monica's bedsprings before pulling out her phone. Peter didn't answer his phone when she called, though given that it was two-forty five in the morning that wasn't a huge surprise, so she sent him a text message. Monica was right, they couldn't call the police, so she went to the one person who would believe her. The message probably didn't make a lot of sense, especially because Alex was trying to be vague, but she felt a little better once it was sent. Still, there was no way she was going to be able to go back to sleep.

Peter called her at six-thirty. Another autumn thunderstorm had rolled into the city halfway through Alex's run, so she had cut her route short and was walking into the building when she took the call. As Alex climbed the stairs, not wanting to lose the call in the elevator, Peter apologized profusely for not answering the phone which was hysterical since she called him at an ungodly hour. Once he was done rambling, Alex told him exactly what she had seen in the window the night before.

"Well, that's terribly unsettling," Peter said with a sigh, "especially given where I was last night that I couldn't take your call."

"Another apartment torn to shreds?" Alex guessed, dropping her voice even though she was alone in the stairwell.

"This time with the scientist inside it. From the sounds of it, it wasn't pretty."

Alex didn't know if it was Peter's tone or some intuition, but Alex knew without asking that the scientist had not gotten out of the apartment alive. That meant the only reason Alex and the other two scientists hadn't been torn to shreds is because they hadn't been home. Peter taking her to that bank robbery saved her life, even if it had triggered some sort of stress response.

"Who was it? That was killed I mean," Alex asked softly. It wasn't as if she would know who the person was, but she felt that putting a name with the victim was the least she could do.

"Niall Coburn, part of the genetics division at Oscorp and by all accounts a brilliant scientist who was just starting to make his mark in the scientific community. He actually wrote a paper with Warren if you can believe it. Like most brilliant scientists, Niall lived alone, so thankfully there is only one casualty. However, the fact that the coroner was still there when I left and the death apparently happened around one in the morning will tell you everything you should need to know about how messy the death was."

"One this morning? Are they sure?" Alex felt as if all the air had been knocked out of her and not just because she was walking up stairs.

"I mean, it's not like they can pinpoint this stuff so early, but that's they're guess. Why?" Peter instantly sounded concerned.

"Because I saw the thing outside the window after two in the morning. That meant that he came over here after he killed that scientist. He could have killed me or Monica." Alex felt as if she was about to throw up at the thought of Monica being hurt. "Why didn't he kill us? Why did he just look in the window?"

"I can't answer that, Alex. Maybe he is staking out Monica's apartment or maybe…" Peter was quiet for a couple uncomfortable beats. "Maybe he was coming to find you."

"As in, all of the other scientists were supposed to die too and now he's going to try and finish the job." Alex leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. "That means those other two scientists are in danger as well."

"Well, I do not like that train of thought at all, but I'll look into it. If that's the case though, why didn't he attack you last night, no offense," Peter added quickly. "He has busted into that place before and a single scream doesn't seem like it would deter this guy."

"Parker, you'll know if I'm offended, so you can stop worrying about that," Alex laughed breathlessly as she continued her trek upward. "And I have no idea, but I don't hear you coming up with any better theories."

"That's because, like a good scientist, I am waiting to provide a hypothesis until I have more data to extrapolate from," Peter laughed at hearing Alex do so. "Also, I haven't showered yet today and that's where I have all my best ideas."

"Well, you better get on that and I'm going to attempt to have a somewhat normal morning." Alex said as she opened the door to Monica's apartment as quietly as possible. "See you in class."

"Be careful," Peter said seriously.

"Aye, Aye, Captain." Alex smiled at his concern. He was a good kid.

"Wrong Superhero," Peter pointed out before ending the call.

Getting ready was a nightmare as both Monica and Alex attempted to dance around each other in the small bathroom. Alex tried to think of a way to warn Monica about the creature, but nothing seemed to come out and Monica was smart enough she had probably come to the same collusion if she believed that Alex had seen something. By the time Alex stumbled out of the apartment, without breakfast, she decided that if her apartment wasn't ready that evening, she was staying at Steve's again. It wasn't just about the bathroom, though she was still dreaming of Steve's shower, it was to keep Monica safe. If Alex was a target for that creature, she wanted to be as far from Monica as possible. If it was after Monica...maybe Alex would ask Peter to watch the place.

"Miss Harper, a very good morning to you," Mrs. Nazari said as Alex slipped into the back of the SUV.

"Good morning," Alex said around a yawn. "Sorry if I kept you waiting."

"It's no trouble, it is what I'm paid for," Mrs. Nazari laughed as she pulled out into traffic. "Did you have breakfast this morning? If not, I think my children left some date-and-sesame balls in a bag in the back. They have walnuts in them, in case you're allergic."

Alex was about to politely decline, but her stomach rumbled loudly, so she reached into the back pocket and found a ziplock bag. She wasn't exactly sure what to make of the treats as she had never had dates before, but it would be rude to refuse now. After the first date-and-sesame ball, Alex really wasn't sure how she felt about them, so she had another one. Soon, the bag was empty.

"Thank you, for the food specifically, but in general as well." Alex said while she attempted to brush the loose sesame seeds back into the bag and not onto the floor. "How many children do you have?"

"Two, a boy and a girl, six and eight respectively." Mrs. Nazari's voice was soft and Alex could see her smile in the reflection of the rearview mirror. "They are very messy eaters so don't worry about the sesame seeds, I can always blame them when the car is cleaned later."

"It must be hard to balance work and two children that age. They're so rambunctious." Alex was exhausted after being with Sandy for an afternoon, she couldn't even imagine chasing after two. Parents are truly remarkable and Alex should check in on the Malones to see how they're doing.

"When they say it takes a village," Mrs. Narzari laughed. "My husband, thankfully, has no problem being home with the children and with the help of his mother and sister, who live in the same building, we make it work. It is a very loud life, but it reminds me of being back home."

Alex didn't say anything, though she had a thousand questions, every single one was insensitive or just plain rude. She was genuinely surprised that Mrs. Nazari was the breadwinner of the family and that her husband stayed home with the children, which made her feel awful. Then there was the question of where her home was, but that also didn't seem appropriate to ask. So, she just listened to the news station in a language she still couldn't identify and, for once, kept her opinions to herself.

The rest of the day didn't hold any surprises. Professor Warren showed none of the restless energy that Alex had seen on Monday though Peter was uncharastically quiet. Still, that wasn't surprising given the lack of sleep he had gotten and why he hadn't been in his bed. He agreed to keep an eye on her building tonight to make sure Monica was alright. Mrs. Nazari magically had more food on hand on the trip from campus to the Tower, this time just a bag of dried apple chips. Alex started to get the feeling that her bodyguard was feeling a bit maternal toward her. There were worse things in the world than someone who wanted to feed you, especially when that person did it in a very hands off way like Mrs. Nazari.

"I won't be needing a ride home this evening, Mrs. Nazari. I'll be staying in the Tower tonight," Alex said as she got out of the SUV in the garage. "Thank you so much for the treats today and I will see you tomorrow morning."

"Yes, Miss Harper. I will see you tomorrow," Mrs. Nazari had an almost knowing smile as she watched Alex get out of the car. Alex didn't want to know what she thought she knew.

Dr, Banner was gone yet again, probably with Steve and the others, so it was the group leaders who ran the internship. Liam drove Alex's group hard, but they had fun as well, and Alex was starting to understand the medical reason the serum worked inside the body. While she still felt as if she was the smallest child chasing after all the big kids on the playground, she was at least starting to catch up.

Steve's apartment was just as blissfully quiet and clean as when Alex walked into it the other evening. A look in the fridge let Alex know that not only did someone clean Steve's apartment, they did his shopping as well. She would have thought it was a charmed life if Alex didn't know the horrible things Steve had to do while he was out on the missions to save the world. Besides, she doubted that he would buy anything other than sliced lunch meat and white bread if it was up to him.

Alex showered, ate, and worked to catch up on the assignments that she was given an extension on due to her apartment situation. All of her classes, except Russian and Biochemistry, were thankfully not too stressful, though they were time consuming. By midnight, Alex was ready to call it a night after the early morning wake up call by a certain monster. She hoped she could get another night of dreamless sleep as she curled onto the couch underneath the blanket, which she didn't doubt had also been washed since the last time she used it.

A door closing woke Alex up immediately, shooting to her feet before she was even fully conscious. It took her a minute to even realize where she was before her eyes focused on the shadowy figure at the door. Alex grabbed the nearest item, which happened to be a textbook that she hadn't put away, and chucked it at the intruder. Whoever it was easily caught the projectile and Alex took a step backward.

"Alex, it's me," Steve said as he walked forward into the living room, textbook in hand. "I thought you'd be in the guest room. Why are you sleeping on the couch?"

"Steve, shit." Alex put her hand to her chest and took a deep breath. "Sorry about that, but you have to admit that was a good throw."

"It wasn't a bad throw after tumbling off a couch and almost slamming your head on the coffee table, I will give you that." Steve smiled as he walked over. "I also have to commend you on having the appropriate reaction to an intruder this time, but you didn't answer my question."

"I don't know, it just seemed weird to stay in there." Alex suddenly had some sympathy for Goldilocks and being caught sleeping in a home that wasn't hers. "I figured someone would tell you every detail of me being here, including where I was sleeping.

"Someone did and I've told you, you're always welcome, but they aren't spying on you so they didn't mention the couch." Steve set the textbook on the table before heading into the kitchen and pulling a beer out of the fridge. "Now, go back to sleep."

"Don't tell me what to do," Alex laughed as she sat down on the couch, tucking her legs underneath herself. "Come on, tell me where you were and how you saved the world."

"How about I make you a deal," Steve said, already heading toward his bedroom. "If you're still awake once I'm done with my shower, we can talk about my top secret mission with the Avengers while Jarvis listens in."

Alex hadn't even thought about the fact that Jarvis was always watching and listening, but she wasn't about to tell Steve that. "Deal."

Steve shook his head and closed the door to his bedroom. Alex did settle back down on the couch, figuring that Steve wasn't actually going to come back out. She was half asleep when she heard the bedroom door open. Steve was able to move without making a sound so Alex looked over the back of the couch to catch him sneaking into the kitchen to grab a bag of chips.

"Those late night snacks will always get you," Alex said, laughing when she watched him sigh and shake his head. "Bring those over here."

Steve grabbed a bag of pretzels as well and pulled dip from the fridge before carting everything over. Alex made space on the couch and he flopped down beside her, smelling of his shower gel and looking absolutely exhausted. For the first couple minutes they just focused on the food, crunching away side by side.

"So, tell me about what happened at the apartment," Steve said after they had taken care about half the bag of pretzels.

Alex got in the feeling Steve wasn't in the mood for her to be vague. She told Steve everything she knew, aside from anything to do with Spider-man because that wasn't her secret to tell. Then she told him about seeing the face in the window that morning and ended it all with telling him about the call from James, though she didn't mention his name because of Jarvis. They were quiet for a while after that particular confession.

"Well, at least he sounded like himself," Steve finally said as he got off the couch and went to grab another bottle of beer, bringing one over for Alex as well.

"We might also be able to guess what side of the world he's on given the time difference, but other than that…" Alex shrugged as she took a long swing of the beer. "As weird as it sounds, I almost feel guilty I haven't been focusing on him with everything going on. I haven't done a single night of research since my apartment."

"I think he'd forgive you," Steve said with a laugh. "Now I know that if I told you to stay here for your own safety, you'd tell me to go to hell. That begs the question, why are you here now on your own accord?"

"I don't want to put Monica in any danger if I'm the thing it's after," Alex said honestly. "Maybe he was there for her and I left her vulnerable, though I've done everything I can to ensure she's safe, but it wasn't her bedroom window he was staring at, it was at me. It was my apartment that was torn apart. So, I took a gamble. Now, your turn. Where in the world was Steve Rogers?"

"Obviously I can't tell you the details or Jarvis would report me to Tony and Miss Hill before either of us could blink," Steve leaned back and looked up at the ceiling.

"Which are you more afraid of, Stark or Hill?" Alex settled down on the couch and pulled the blanket up.

"That's an easy question," Steve laughed, "definitely Hill. She is also the point person on all our missions. We were told that there was a cell of Hydra agents hiding...in a remote location. A very humid and very hot location. Believe it or not, Captain America's uniform is not very breathable. I'm pretty sure I boiled inside my own sweat which is just as unpleasant as it sounds. However, the moment I mentioned it to Tony, he started sketching up plans for a new suit. I shouldn't complain though, Nat has it worse with all that dark, tight fitting, fabric."

"I can't picture Natasha complaining about the heat." Alex had only had one conversation with the Black Widow, but she didn't seem like the type of person to comment about the weather while they were on a mission to kill people.

"Oh, she doesn't, but Clint complains enough for the both of them," Steve laughed. "Anyway, we did some recon, hit their headquarters, did some interrogation, and then headed home. The usual and nothing to write home about."

Before, Alex would have believed him, but she had seen his sketchbooks. She had seen the visions that were burned into his brain he had to draw in an attempt to get them out. They weren't all from World War II or the Battle of New York. Steve was a soldier, the perfect soldier if the news articles about the serum back in the day were to be believed, and that meant that he was sent into situations where kill or be killed was the only option. He was also fighting Hydra, who were Nazis, so Alex couldn't find any sympathy for any lives that he had taken. However, she was concerned about what taking those lives was doing to Steve. It didn't seem tired so much as weary as they talked.

"How is Clint doing?" Alex asked, deciding to change the subject.

"The same disaster he always is," Steve smiled. "He's been working on something separate from our missions, according to Nat, which keeps him away most of the time. Not sure what it is, he wouldn't say anything about it when I asked."

"You all have so many secrets, I don't know how it doesn't drive you all crazy," Alex laughed as she finished her beer, only dribbling a little on herself because she drank it lying down. "I mean, how can you trust people who are out on missions that you know nothing about? If Clint isn't working for the Avengers, who is he working for?"

"Since when did you get so paranoid? Also, I don't think you have any room to talk about keeping secrets," Steve pointed out with a smile. "Clint is working on something that started back when he was with SHIELD. Apparently it is an initiative that he felt strongly enough about to continue to work on. That's enough explanation for me."

"You're too trusting," Alex laughed as she playfully nudged him with her foot.

"You should be grateful I am or I would have listened to Sam and dragged you into the Tower the first time I met you," Steve pointed out as he started cleaning up what was left of the snacks. "And you don't get to talk Miss 'let me invite a man who beat the crap out of another man into my apartment'."

"There were extenuating circumstances there." It wasn't like Alex could really argue with his assessment.

"There are always extenuating circumstances," Steve got up and went into the kitchen. "Now, it's seriously time for you to go to sleep, given you have class tomorrow."

"What are you, my mom?" Alex asked as she settled deeper into the couch, stretching her legs out.

Steve laughed as he walked over to the couch. "You need anything else? Another pillow or blanket? Maybe actually sleeping in the guest room where there is a comfortable bed?"

"Goodnight Steve," Alex called as she rolled over so her back was to him.

"You are ridiculous," Steve said as he walked toward his bedroom. "Good night."

#marvel #fanfic #My writing #bucky x oc #Steve Rogers #A Spider Sat Down Beside Her #Update 15

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yoshichao · 4 years

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Series: Danganronpa, Detective Conan, Ghost Trick, Devil Summoner, Kindaichi Case Files, Zero Escape

Characters: Conan Edogawa, Saguru Hakuba, Hajime Kindaichi, Lynne, Sissel, Yui Samidare, Raidou Kuzunoha the XIV, Gouto, Heiji Hattori, Raido Kuzunoha the XIV, Goto, Raiho, Kyouko Kirigiri

Summary: Nine "lucky" guests of DetectiveCon manage to solve a code that showed up in their mailbox alongside their special invitations to the event. But it turns out the "reward" for their efforts is being trapped in a cruel game involving numbered bracelets, a maze of doors, and a ticking time limit. Can these detectives work together to survive the Nonary Game? Or will they be outwitted by their captor - this so-called "Zero"?

Tags: Crossover, Nonary Game, Temporary Major Character Death, Supernatural Meets Mundane, Amnesiac Character, Puzzles

[As of today’s update (chapter 8), this fic is going on an indefinite hiatus SO I would like to share some previews and teases of later chapters in this fic that I wrote when I was writing out of order. Find it under the cut! Thanks for reading!!]

A few minutes of investigation later, there was a girlish yelp and several metallic rattling sounds, garnering the attention of the others. No one was quite sure how it happened at the time, but somehow Lynne managed to get herself stuck in the chair of a school desk on top of a conveyor belt. Not only that, but she also somehow turned on the contraption she was stuck on.

In summary: during all her dashing around, she bumped into several inconvenient piles and objects repeatedly, which loosened up several things to cause this catastrophic chain reaction. One shelf she bumped knocked over several planks of wood, blocking off the exit gate to this particular section. While seeing if she could use a long detached chain for anything, she tripped and fell onto the conveyor belt.

At the opposite end of the irregularly lurching conveyor belt, a large crusher dropped down loudly before lifting back up to repeat the process.

“L-Lynne-san?!” The blond put his hands on the chain-link fence separating the boys from the redhead. He seemed to be in a daze, not quite believing his eyes yet. “What are you doing…?”

“I… I think I’m stuck!” Lynne let out a nervous laugh and tried to lift herself off the chair she was on, but her leg was tangled in the very chain she tripped over. The desk and chair were attached to the belt, apparently. The conveyor belt lurched again, seemingly speeding up for half a second before grinding to a stop. Apparently it was malfunctioning, but whatever was wrong with it wasn’t enough to stop it completely.

Sissel tried to squeeze his small body between a gap in the fence when the belt started moving again, the crusher continuously smashing down at a steady pace. The two humans dashed to the other side of the room to reach the entrance to the area Lynne was trapped in.

“The gate is stuck,” the black-haired boy said quietly, fingers curling against the metal as he stared at the mess of shelves and construction equipment blocking the way. He glanced around calmly for an alternate entrance or something that could help in their situation, but nothing caught his eye, so he settled on scaling the fence instead. The blond hurriedly followed his lead, though he was noticeably less experienced at this sort of thing, as he needed to regain his footing several times in his haste.

Lynne whimpered and inhaled sharply when the shadow of the crusher above her suddenly darkened her space. White as a ghost, she shut her eyes tight when the conveyor belt stopped. The crusher dropped. The black-haired boy vaulted over the fence and landed gracefully on the ground, while Hakuba called out from the other side.

“Lynne-san!!”

Halfway down, the large weight had gotten stuck, and was now looming dangerously over Lynne’s head. The redhead cracked an eye open and slowly looked up, visibly shaking from this horrible, life-threatening experience. The blond, having finally gotten over the top of the fence, stumbled as his feet reached the floor. He turned and called out again, fear and relief clashing together in his voice.

“Lynne-san, are you okay?!”

“I… Y-Yeah, I think--”

Suddenly there was a loud creaking sound, and the chains holding up the weight all snapped. The sound of bones cracking was drowned out by the sound of the crusher hitting the ground, which rang in everyone’s ears long after all was still.

“L.. Lynne… -san…?”

The blond moved past the other boy mechanically, who had stopped moving forward once he realized there was nothing they could do. The Brit stumbled over and placed his hands on the weight, the cold metal icy against his palms.

Breaking the wretched silence was a too-high ding!, which was followed by a small compartment on the death machine opening up to reveal a key. The blond detective just stared at it like it was something alien, while the boy with the cap reached out and took it gingerly, studying it with wide and unblinking eyes, as if he wasn’t really registering its existence at all.

Sissel trotted over and sat himself up against the crusher, averting his eyes from the paint-like splatters around him. The kitten yawned, getting cozy before lying down and closed his eyes. Then the world shifted into reds, oranges, and blues. With a sigh, Sissel reached out and hopped into the yellow core next to him.

“I wonder if you hold some sort of record with all the times you’ve died.”

Before him floating in the red void of the ghost world was Lynne’s spirit, who just grinned cheekily.

“If I did, do you think they’d give me an award for it?”

“K… Kyouko-chan…” Yui watches her friend sadly, though despite the situation she can’t help but feel a hint of relief at the implications regarding Kyouko’s behaviour. “Do you… Do you recognize him?”

The ghastly sight that greeted them when they walked into the room was something any detective had come across at least once in their life. A sight so familiar that some of their ilk aren’t even caught off-guard by it anymore.

A dead body.

But the body that the trio found in the study wasn’t just any old person. This was someone both Yui and Kyouko were extremely familiar with - the two of them would recognize this old man anywhere.

Instead of answering Yui’s question, Kyouko silently approached the desk. The room was silent and filled with a palpable dread as unasked questions were left in the air. Once beside the desk, Kyouko slowly put two fingers to the old man’s neck. After a moment, she opened her mouth to speak.

“He’s dead.”

“But… why would they go off on their own like that?!” Lynne asked. “And why would one of them steal the number 0 bracelet? Why not just ask Kirigiri-chan if they could take it?”

“It had to have been Kuzunoha-kun, correct?” Hakuba noted. “Raidou-kun never set foot in the study. But Kuzunoha-kun was there with Samidare-san and Kirigiri-san. He must have taken it before they exited.”

Yui wanted to mention how much sense that didn’t make, because it’s not like Kyouko Kirigiri to miss something like that and the silver-haired detective was the first and last person near the body, but she had no other explanation for how the bracelet could have disappeared. Yui herself didn’t have the bracelet - that was a fact. That would leave either Kuzunoha or Kyouko as the thief. In any other circumstance, Kyouko would seem like the more likely suspect - she did reckless things like this all the time without telling anyone. But when they had two missing persons with a digital root that matched a numbered door...

“As fer why,” Hattori continued, “like th’ 9 bracelet, th’ number 0 doesn’t change th’ digital root. It’s pretty valuable. Maybe he wanted ta have it, jus’ in case.”

“Yeah, it’s not like we had found the number 5 door before now,” Kindaichi said. “I mean, it’s a mighty fine coincidence that those two had numbers that equaled a digital root of 5, but…”

Yui had to think about that. Was it really a coincidence?

...Well, it had to be, right? Unless there was meaning to the assigned numbers - which she had thought about briefly, but couldn’t come up with consistent correlations for any of them.

“Did they want to work together that badly?” Lynne asked to no one in particular. “Maybe they were just too shy to ask… They were both pretty quiet, after all…”

“To be fair, Yui-chan didn’t really give them a choice the last two times!” Kindaichi said with a grin. Yui huffed at him, but she recognized that he had a point. The only options they would have had this time were door number 5 with Kyouko, 6 with Conan, or 7 with Hakuba. Maybe they didn’t like those odds and figured Yui would want to accompany the lavender-haired woman again, and Conan would want to be with Hattori, and...

“W-Well, whatever!” She childishly stuck her tongue out at Kindaichi, who snickered in response. “Aaaanyways, we should probably go check downstairs to see if they really did go through the number 5 door. If they didn’t and we rearrange the teams, we’ll end up leaving them behind and that door will go unexplored!” Which was something they didn’t have time for. For all they knew, the number 5 door was the key to their escape.

With no arguments, the seven of them rushed down into the basement and through the tucked away door. They came face-to-face with a metal door that had a number 5 painted on it. As some of the boys stepped forwards to investigate the door itself, Yui turned her head towards the RED.

“Uh, guys? The RED...” Everyone looked over.

On the screen in bright red letters, the word “ENGAGED” confirmed what they had already suspected.

“As a reward for your victory, summoner: a parting gift and a word of advice.”

The Pale Rider tossed his scythe to the ground, where it clattered and broke into two separate pieces.

“When you’ve gone as high as you can go and think you can go no higher, turn your head skyward to find the way forward.”

With that, the horse turned and galloped off, vanishing into thin air with its rider. Silence settled over the basement, and Raidou cautiously approached the broken weapon. The metal had detached from the thin wooden stick, and where they had once been connected, the boy noticed an unusual indent…

He was shaken out of his thoughts by the other summoner, who came up behind Raidou and dropped a hand on his shoulder. He studied the odd gift that was left on the floor in disbelief before opening his mouth to speak.

“...Did Death himself really just give us some ancient wisdom?”

When the door opened, no searching was required. Across the wide and empty room was what they were looking for, bordered by cheap fluorescent lights mounted on the walls.

“We… we did it.” When they all shuffled out of the elevator, Samidare was the first to speak coherently. “We found the number 9… We can get out!”

She whooped and rushed over, putting her hands on the door and experimentally scraping at the paint to make sure it was real. Hajime couldn’t help but grin as he made to join her in inspecting the door. His mirth faded when he realized everyone else remained silent. Turning to face them, none of them shared the smiles the pair of them wore.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, looking between the four of them before settling his eyes on Conan, who wore a thoughtful, serious expression. “Why aren’t you guys happy? This means we can escape, right?”

“There’s only one door, Kindaichi,” Conan said, not even attempting to include the childish chirp he normally used. “That means a maximum of five people can leave.”

“Oi… don’t tell me yer suggestin’ that we split up?”

“Is that not our best option?” Kirigiri crossed her arms. “Would you rather all nine of us die here instead of only four? The five that escape can call for help and potentially save the others before the time is up…”

“K-Kyouko-chan…” Samidare didn’t say anything further, her face betraying how conflicted and confused she felt at her friend’s behaviour.

“H-Hey, let’s not be hasty!” Hajime said, mustering up the most convincing grin he could despite the hollow feeling in his stomach. “Let’s say there is another exit. What if it needs all of us to access it or something?”

“It seems you’re grasping for straws, Kindaichi-kun…”

“He has a point though!” Samidare quickly said. “We should go back and tell Lynne-chan first, and then find the Kuzunohas before we decide on anything.”

“But is that such a good idea?” This had been the most Kyouko Kirigiri had ever said at once during their nine hours together, and every word that came out of her mouth came as a surprise. “The five of you are guaranteed to escape at this very moment, as the only ones who could raise a fuss are yourselves. I have no qualms about staying behind. But if you discuss this with the others, they may not be so… agreeable.”

“I-If I had more of these,” Raiho grumbled, hopping on the stool as if to emphasize something, “then I’d be taller than you! Then you’d be looking up at hee, and I’d be a better summoner than you!”

Raidou wasn’t entirely sure what the demon was talking about, but something in his words clicked in the boy’s mind.

“...Raiho, do you mind moving for a moment?”

“Ho? Why? I mean--” The little snowman huffed again, folding his arms over his spherical body. “--Ho way! I’m not gonna listen to you!”

“Raiho, please. Just for a moment.”

“...Give hee your hat first and mayhee I’ll think about it.”

“Hey, Kyouko-chan…”

The beeping had started on Conan and Kindaichi’s persons, but upon turning around, the boys noticed Samidare and Kirigiri were still just outside the door. The brunette had a serious and unreadable look on her face as she planted a hand on her friend’s shoulder. Kirigiri wordlessly studied the brunette, waiting for whatever she had to say patiently.

“Hey, can we get a move on?” Kindaichi asked, nervously gesturing to his bracelet. “You guys need to join us before the door closes…!”

Neither of the girls paid him any mind, staring into each other’s eyes as if they were communicating telepathically. Almost a full nine seconds passed before something happened - Samidare grinned.

“Take care of yourself, alright Kyouko-chan?”

With that, she roughly shoved her friend through the door as it began to grind shut. Taken by surprise, Kirigiri nearly toppled into the two detectives that started shouting at the woman outside simultaneously.

“Oi, Samidare--!”

“--what do you think you’re doing?!”

With the grin still plastered on her face, Yui Samidare gave a two-fingered salute before turning on her heels and running in the opposite direction.

The number 9 door shut between them, three separate sets of ticking bouncing off the stone walls.

They were all horribly out of breath, and only half of them contained enough energy to start stumbling back before the faint sound of an explosion was heard.

“Yui-chan!” Suddenly, Lynne bolted down the way they came, adrenaline revitalizing her. Sissel tried calling out to stop her, but the redhead’s sprint didn’t slow.

“We…” Samidare swallowed, her mouth dry. “We don’t just need a digital root of 9… We also need… nine bracelets…”

The silence was unbearable. Hattori swore again.

“Damn tha’ Kirigiri… She left us here knowin’ this…”

“Wait, do you guys hear that?” At Conan’s voice, everyone stopped what they were doing. With the excitement winding down, they all could hear a persistent knocking sound coming from the set of double doors on the other end of the banquet hall. Nobody moved for a moment, but then through an unspoken exchange, they all began to approach the doors as one. Deducing that it was locked, Hattori, leading the pack, cautiously reached out and turned the lock on the door.

Placing both hands on the handles, he looked back at the others for a moment, taking in everyone’s intense expressions. Then, finally, he threw the doors open.

#9h9d9d #fic preview #fanfiction #danganronpa #detective conan #kindaichi case files #devil summoner #smt #ghost trick #zero escape #crossover fanfiction #are these fragments in story order? that is a secret....#really hope to come back to this fic some day cuz its got a special place in my heart #but i just dont have passion to write for most of these characters anymore #maybe i'll put it on the update rotation after finishing a few fics

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fiftytwobadstories · 5 years

Text

My Mother was very young when she gave birth to me. When I grew older, and did the math in my mind, I realized that she was almost too young. She was practically a child herself and when I was just a baby, my Grandmother had raised us both. There was never a Father in my life—only these women and their secrets. Though despite being raised by my Grandmother for the first few years of my life, I had no memories of her. I wasn’t even sure of her name. My Mother never talked about why she moved us out of the home we both grew up in, but she never looked back.

The childhood that I did remember was spent in a one bedroom apartment in a rust-coloured building. My Mother worked several jobs and the only time that I was every really able to spend time with her was when she would crawl into bed exhausted in the middle of the night. She would kiss me on the head as I pretended to be asleep and then I would listen to the sound of her breathing until it slowed. Sometimes I would cry after she fell asleep because there was so much that I wanted to talk to her about, but I was afraid that she would get mad at me if I woke her. This was my life with her until eventually I grew too big for us to share the bed comfortably anymore. Then she started sleeping on the couch.

As my friends at school became more interested in dating and parties, I found myself wanting to spend more time at home. I had no urge to be rebellious. I could have dated any boy, girl, or whoever I wanted and gotten away with it. I could have even come home stumbling drunk on a school night, and my Mother wouldn’t have known. But I craved to be with my Mother. I wanted that same relationship that everyone else had with their moms. I wanted to tell her about my crushes or cry in her arms after being bullied for my tattered clothes. I hoped that by staying home more often, I might catch a glimpse of her between shifts, but even if I did, there was never enough time to talk.

On one afternoon, I came home from school to find an envelope had been slid under our apartment door. Usually, our mail was put in the mailbox at the front door of the building, but someone must have come in to deliver it directly to our door. The envelope was almost the colour of wheat, but the colour rubbed off beneath my fingertips and I realized that it was just dirt—but there weren’t any other finger prints on it besides mine. It was addressed to my Mother in handwritten black ink. I didn’t recognize the return address, or even the name of the town. Usually, the only mail my Mother got was bills, but this one seemed special. I left it on the kitchen table for her to find when she got home.

The next morning, I woke up to find her sitting at the kitchen table holding the envelope in her hands. She was usually gone for work by the time that I woke up, but there she was. She had a distressed look on her face as she looked through the contents of the envelope. I opened my mouth to ask her what was wrong, but I realized that I didn’t even know how to talk to her. I stood there hesitating until she finally noticed me there and spoke up.

“I’m going to be leaving town for a few days,” her tone was very dry and serious.

“Oh…” I wasn’t sure what to say next and the room fell silent again until I was finally able to ask: “Why?”

“My Mother passed away and I need to help with the funeral,” she answered without meeting my eyes.

“Oh.”

She left later that day. That evening, I sat in the emptiness of the apartment and felt an odd sense of loneliness begin to sit in. I was used to being alone here, but there was always the comfort in knowing that my Mother would be coming home at night. As I laid in the bed that we used to share together, I found myself unable to sleep. I looked out at the moon in the night sky wondering why I was always so cursed with being alone. As I watched, a dark cloud passed over the moon and smothered out all of its light. Then a bolt of lighting carved itself into the black sky—it reminded me of a tree root. As the rain began to fall, I was finally able to fall asleep.

I awoke the next morning with that same empty feeling. As I paced around the apartment, it dawned on me how strange it was that my Mother didn’t offer to take me to the funeral. It was my Grandmother, after all. And this could have been a chance to really get to spend some time with my Mother. I cursed myself for just standing there when she told me the news. I could have just asked to come. Maybe she thought that I didn’t want to go. Maybe she thought that I didn’t care about her. Or maybe she didn’t care about me.

I fished the envelope out from the trash and looked up the town on the map. It was far out in the middle of nowhere, but I could at least take a train part of the way there. I wanted to go to this funeral, whether my Mother wanted me there or not. I wanted to know my family—where I came from. I dumped my books out of my backpack and packed some clothes. My Mother had left her one black dress behind, and I figured that I could take it because I didn’t own anything nice enough. Then I left the apartment, and walked to the train station.

It was already nightfall by the time I got off the train. I checked the map again, and began walking in the direction of the town. It was nothing but empty fields and the stars above between me and my destination, but I marched onward. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but my feet had grown numb as they trod through the wet mud of last night’s rain. Then, by the light of the early morning dawn, I could just make out a cluster of homes surrounding a grove of trees. I knew this place.

The closer I came, the more memories began pouring into my mind. I remembered those trees, and how my young Mother forbade me from ever playing in them. I remembered her and my Grandmother fighting a lot. I remembered once waking up in the middle of the night to find my Grandmother standing in the room with me—just watching—and then my Mother finding us. She took me out of my bed and I slept with her that night so that my Grandmother didn’t disturb us. I think that was the night before we left.

As I approached the town, I could hear voices coming from within the trees. They were all muffled, but it sounded like a bunch of people shouting. Then, I heard my Mother’s voice. She was screaming as though she were having a nightmare. I began running as fast as my numbed feet would allow towards the trees.

“Where is she?” a man’s voice demanded.

“I wont let you have her!” my Mother cried.

“We’ll all die because of your selfishness” shouted another voice. This one I could also recognize. It sounded just like my Grandmother, but she was supposed to be dead, wasn’t she?

I hesitated before entering the trees as I remembered my Mother telling me never to go in there. Oddly enough, the trees seemed more withered and grey than I remembered—as though they were dying. I could make out figures within, and heard my Mother scream once more.

“Stop!” her sharp voice gurgled

“It wouldn’t have to be like this if you did what you were told for once,” my Grandmother snapped back and I once again remembered their constant arguing when I was a child.

I couldn’t stand the pain in my Mother’s voice and broke through the forbidden barrier into the trees towards her. Then, I saw my Mother. They were pinning her up against a tree and wrapping her limbs around the branches. My Grandmother was standing before her draped in green robes. There were others as well that were on their knees with their heads bowed low. It was as though it were some kind of ritual. Fear pinned my feet to the ground, but as I heard my Mother’s bones begin to snap, I refused to be afraid anymore. I couldn’t let them take her away from me.

“Stop it!” my voice cracked with tears as I screamed.

Silence.

One by one, they turned to look at me. I saw my Grandmother’s eyes widen and my Mother let in a sharp breath. Slowly, my Grandmother began walking towards me with a smile on her face and her arms stretched wide. My Mother started struggling again and screaming with tears in her eyes. She was telling me to run away, but soon my Grandmother blocked my view of her.

“There you are, child, we were worried that you wouldn’t come,” she smiled and placed her hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t touch her!” my Mother screamed.

My Grandmother began leading me forward and I realized that all the others were smiling at me now too. The ones that were pinning my Mother released their grips and her body dropped to the ground. I rand towards her and nobody stopped me—they parted to let me through. She was trying to reach for me, and I could see the tears pouring from her eyes. I dropped to my knees and held her tight, but it was as though she were pushing me away. Then I felt a set of arms gently raising me up and away from my Mother.

I was placed up against the tree. My Mother tried to stop it from happening, but her body was too weak. Then my Grandmother approached me and drew a symbol with a stick on my chest. They grabbed my arms, and began wrapping them around the branches like vines. My Grandmother then began speaking in a language that couldn’t understand, but could recognize. Then they grabbed onto my legs. I was being bent and twisted in ways that a person wasn’t meant to and it was agony. My eyes welled with tears, but somehow the pain didn’t seem so bad knowing that it was happening to me and not my Mother.

At some point, I must have passed out, and when I came to, I found myself unable to move. I examined my body and found that I could no longer tell what were my limbs and what were branches. My body was being swallowed into the bark. As I looked around at the other trees in the grove, they seemed to have knots in them that looked like face. They were people once, and soon I was going to be like them. I tried to struggle, but the bark was closing in around me.

The grove slowly started turning green again, and life was brought back to the town. I grew tall and strong and bore fruit for everyone to eat. My Mother came to visit me every day. Even though she was sad, she would sit and talk with me until night came. I could never say anything back to her, I think she knew that I was listening and I found comfort in that. Even after what happened, I was happy. My Mother and I could finally be together.

#writers on tumblr #lit #long reads #prose #short story #short stories #literature #creative writing #writing #writers #writer #spilled words #spilled ink

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samingtonwilson · 6 years

Text

Relationship Tutor: (8) Twenty-First Century Romanticism

relationship tutor masterlist

Summary: College AU. Bucky, a relationship novice, asks for your help in dating your friend. Unable to say no to him, you agree despite everyone and everything telling you not to.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: language

A/N: the “there’s a little man right here” line is my favorite. and lol im sorry about this but also, you’re fuckin welcome for it.

An eighteen-page close reading analysis was placed in Professor Pierce’s office mailbox by ten A.M. just as the instructions dictated to you.

You thought the setting of the thick stack of paper in his plastic cubby would have caused waves of relief to wash over you, but you only felt your anxiousness increase twofold. Because not only was Professor Pierce the biggest pain in your ass workload-wise, he also took a century and a half to grade any assignments.

Each time you so much as pictured his greying ginger hair, his creased pale skin, his thin lips that seemed to be perpetually chapped, you felt a prickling under your skin and behind your eyes. Although it was likely that the feeling was due to your lack of sleep, having slept a total of eight hours over the course of four days, you still strongly disliked the concept of Professor Alexander Pierce. Hell, even thinking his name was getting to you.

You shook your head and slung your bag onto your shoulder, your eyes on the screen of your phone as you exited the building. You replied to a few stray text messages from Sam and Steve, halting in your steps as you read over Natasha’s message three times.

You chose not to reply, tossing your phone onto the passenger’s seat of your car and ignoring each subsequent buzz for the sake of general safety and your especially small ability to multitask when your brain was as exhausted as it’d ever been.

You’d decided to call in sick for your shift at the library, muttering something to the elderly head librarian in a voice you hoped sounded hoarse and nasally, because you thought you deserved it. You deserved to lay in bed, to watch television and eat junk food by the shovelful.

You had to repeat that last sentence to Sam several times when he’d requested that you go with him to Clint’s party. He tried to convince you by repeating that it was a Friday, that you needed to get off-your-ass drunk, that you needed to catch yourself another bomb ass lay.

You didn’t particularly disagree with the latter two points, you just thought sleep was a greater priority— especially when you knew Bucky and Natasha would be there. Natasha was, after all, a close friend of Clint’s and it was nearly certain Bucky, a mere acquaintance of Clint’s, would tag along with Steve upon learning of her presence.

You hadn’t seen much of Bucky, likely due to your cave-dweller-like behavior throughout the last week and not at all due to Bucky’s lack of trying.

He’d come to check on you numerous times, turned away from your door when you refused to so much as crack it a fraction of an inch— you knew your bleary mind would cause you to pounce at just the sight of him. Unable to fully leave you be when he was so concerned, he made sure to drop-off any form of sustenance he could get his hands on when he knew Sam was in class.

You were beyond appreciative, but the gesture made your chest ache even more. It made you see him behind your eyelids each time you slept— see what you wanted to be, what you wished he wanted the two of you to be.

Standing at your door, you dug through your bag for your keys and growled in frustration. “Seriously?” you whined. “I just used you in the car and threw you in here three milliseconds ago!”

When a pair of shoes entered your downturned gaze, you lifted your eyes to meet a smirking Sam with his arms crossed over his chest as he leant against the frame of the door. “There a little man in there?”

“There’s a little man right here,” you said in a singsong voice, poking your index finger into his chest as you brushed past him to enter the apartment. “Okay, I’m gonna go sleep until the next century. Goodbye and goodnight, may you attain all the happiness the universe has to offer and may you never forget to use protection.”

“Not so fast,” he sang back, grabbing onto your wrist before you could escape down the hall to your room. “Barnes is on his way over, said to tell you because his texts aren’t delivering.”

You dug your phone from your pocket and sighed when the screen remained black despite the many times you pressed the lock button. “Battery must have died a minute ago. But since when is he considerate enough to announce his upcoming arrivals?”

“Since he walked in here with you pantsless and Stark satiated.”

Your lips fell into a disgusted scowl. “Please never say ‘satiated’ again.”

He nodded with a laugh as he picked up his backpack and crammed in a textbook. “Made extra waffles this morning if you’re hungry.”

“Marry me, Samela,” you shouted, racing to the kitchen and immediately retrieving a plate. “Have a good day in class.”

“Have a good day sleepin’ ya ass off!” he returned, shutting the door behind him and promptly locking it.

You practically moaned as you scarfed down bite, after bite, after bite of the fluffy waffles doused in maple syrup, your eyes slipping shut when you sat back in your chair at the table.

A loud, incessant knocking at the door broke you from your reverie and you growled to yourself. “Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.”

You opened the door with an added dramatic flair you didn’t think you had the energy for, your eyes rolling as soon as you saw him. “Seriously?”

His smile turned into a frown quickly, sidestepping you to enter and crossing to the kitchen to fix himself a plate as well. You figured he must have caught onto the smell. “That’s a nice way to say hello. Hospitality is really your specialty.”

“You have a spare key, Buck. I had no reason to get up.”

“It’s for emergencies.”

“Me getting eight hours of sleep over the course of four days constitutes enough of an emergency.” You sat in your seat once again and picked up your fork to take another bite. “Don’t you have class in a bit?”

“Skipping.”

“What’s your excuse?”

He shrugged as he sat beside you. “Felt like it. Aced my quiz last week, I’m all caught up on readings, and I’m allowed three absences.”

“Wow, look at you.” You applauded him with a playful smile, spearing one of the strawberries on his plate. “You’re excelling.”

He smiled back, his cheeks puffed out from the bite he’d just taken. “I am, huh?”

Shaking your head, you sat back again and crossed your legs at the knee under the table. “Are you going to Clint’s tonight?”

“Thought about it. Doesn’t really feel like my scene.”

“A party with alcohol, weed, and beer pong doesn’t feel like your scene?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow. “In what sort of alternate universe have I arrived?”

He laughed sarcastically and narrowed his eyes into a glare, steel blue even more metallic.

“You know, Nat’ll be there.”

“She told me last night.”

You frowned in what appeared to be consideration but was actually the result of the plummeting of your stomach. You decided to gush instead. “Ooh,” you cooed. “Is that date number two for you crazy kids?”

He scoffed. “Maybe it is.”

“I’m guessing the half-like has bloomed into a full-like, then?”

You were answered only with a wordless shrug, his gaze falling to his plate to stare at the remaining berries and cut-up waffle.

“You sleep with her yet?” you asked jokingly, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively and reaching over intending to poke his stomach repeatedly, but you stopped after one poke. You stared at him in sudden bewilderment. “Do you have a slab of limestone under there? How are you so rock solid?” you poked him three more times. “What the fuck? You eat all day!”

He slapped your hand away with another glare. “First of all, that feels fantastic,” he told you sarcastically. “Secondly, I haven’t slept with her.”

You tilted your head with furrowed eyebrows. Your blood seemed to cool. “You haven’t?”

“Don’t look so shocked, I told you I fully intended on taking this slow.”

“I know, I just didn’t think you meant this slow.”

“Why?” His eyes were a bit wider. “Is this too slow?”

You shook your head quickly. “No, no, no. It’s not. It’s just slow for you. I mean, maybe you should stay celibate until you two hit, like, six months.”

“Don’t mix sarcasm with seriousness. I can’t tell them apart as easily.”

You wanted to tell him no part of that was sarcastic, but laughed anyway. “Do you have an idea of when you want to, for the lack of better words, do it?”

He shook his head, polishing off his glass of juice and leaning back in his chair once he’d finished his waffles as well. “Nope. Do you have any idea of what an appropriate time is?”

“Buck, there’s no set time. It’s right when it’s right.”

“I just feel like it’ll be right when I’m more sure about it, when I’m deeper into it than just being attracted to her. When I feel something— anything.”

“If that’s when you think it’s right and Natasha’s fully into it, then that’s when it’ll be right.”

“Honestly, I’m surprised she hasn’t jumped your bones yet,” you laughed a moment later, looking away from him to focus on the picture frame behind him.

He leant forward, placing his elbows on the table. “Why? Has she said anything?”

She hadn’t, you just would’ve jumped his bones by now. “Ha, I’m not telling you.”

“You’re supposed to tutor me through this!”

“Not by offering up insider information!” you argued, rolling your eyes. “What was your first kiss like?”

“First kiss with her?”

“No, your first kiss with that blonde in 4-A,” you mumbled dryly. “Yes, your first kiss with her!”

He was looking at you sheepishly when you met his gaze again. “I haven’t actually— We haven’t kissed yet.”

Your eyes widened. “What? How many leaves are you turning?”

“You never told me I could!”

You laughed incredulously. “You don’t need my permission!”

You rose from the table with your plate in-hand, hearing his chair scrape across the floor as you walked into the kitchen. You held your hand out for his dish, placing both in the sink and flipping the water on.

“I guess I want to be sure before that, too.”

You squeezed too much lime scented dish soap onto the yellow sponge, hyper-aware of his eyes on you as he stood leaning against the counter. “When was the last time you were sure that you really liked someone before you kissed them?”

“Middle school,” he chuckled with a single shake of his head. “What about you?”

You set one of plates, now clean, into the basket and started scrubbing the next. “Sophomore year of high school.”

He nodded and motioned for you to explain.

“I really liked the guy that sat in front of me in chemistry, he really liked me. He passed me a note to meet him behind the library after school.” You sighed as you flipped the faucet off, setting the other plate into the basket. “He gently backed me into the stucco wall, apologized when he realized I scraped my elbow, and kissed me while we were laughing about it.”

You glanced at Bucky and placed your hands atop the wet granite bordering the sink, scowling at his amused smile. “Stop, don’t make fun of me. It was very high school and very cute.”

“Sounds cute. Very cliché, though. I wouldn’t think you’d be into that.”

You turned to lean your hip against the counter. “What do you think I’d be into?”

“I don’t know. Something less like a Nicholas Sparks novel.”

“I’ve changed since high school.”

He nodded, eyes not wavering from you. “I’m sure you have.”

You were tempted to lean into the warmth you felt rolling off his body, clearing your throat and focusing on the refrigerator door instead. “How do you plan on kissing Nat?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I was just gonna—”

“If you say you’re just gonna ‘plant one on her,’ I’ll throw up all over you.”

He pushed at your shoulder and laughed when you looked at him. “I have moves, you know.”

Words tumbled from your lips before you could help it. “Yeah? Show me.”

“What?” his voice sounded a bit disbelieving, his smile reflecting the same.

“Show me! Show me a move and I’ll tell you if she’d like it.”

He shook his head to himself and pushed off the counter. “Not to sound like Mr. Chemistry, but I’d back her into something, too. Gently, give her adequate space to leave if she wants,” he told you as he approached you, your backside pressed against the edge of the counter.

His eyes stayed in yours. “Eye contact is key.”

You thought he might be able to hear your heartbeat, the sound thundering in your own ears to the point that all other noises were muted. You stared back at him and loosened your grip on the granite before dropping your arms limply by your side.

“I’d hold onto her,” he continued, a strong arm snaking around your waist so you arched away from the counter and into him, your chests together. A shaky exhale left his lips and you risked a flitted glance in their direction. His arm tightened as he added, “Maybe a little closer.”

The slate blue of his irises was almost molten, his thick eyelashes practically able to brush against your skin, you couldn’t remember if he’d managed an inhale.

You looked at his lips once more, thankful that his grip was holding you up.

He appeared as if he wanted to say something but he only leant in closer, stopping so there was barely a centimeter between you. “Then—”

You closed the distance, kissing him as softly and briefly as you could. You broke away only enough to look over his shut eyes, his parted lips that left a glimmer of hope alive— a hope that he might be just as wrecked as you were.

And you kissed him again.

A groan was pulled from his chest as you let him deepen the kiss and it took just the setting of your hand under his jaw for the kiss to grow warmer, harder, more desperate. Another groan rumbled through him, almost eliciting a moan from you.

Your fingers tangled through the growing hair that fell to the nape of his neck, a teasingly gentle tugging of the strands rewarded with a gasp and a nip to your bottom lip.

Had your lungs not been so drained, you would have stayed there longer, kissing him until your lips grew numb. But you pulled away, eyelids heavy and heart aching behind your ribs with every forceful thump.

You opened your eyes fully and were met with a gaze you could only describe as scorching, needy, and contradictorily relieved.

He then tilted his head and the illusion broke, two of your fingers involuntarily touching your lips.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t— I haven’t slept in, like, half a lifetime,” you explained with a shake of your head. “And I’m really— I’m basically delirious and I should—”

You shook your head again and mustered a smile. “Natasha would like that. You should do it,” you told him while suppressing disappointment when his arms loosened and fell from your body. “I’m gonna— I should sleep. Feel free to leave whenever you want.”

PART 9: INTERMEDIATE REPRESSION

tag list EVEN THOUGH NONE OF YOU ARE GETTING NOTIFIED if you’re crossed off your tag isn’t working! (send me an ask to be added): @sweetstilesofmine @dugan365 @lowkeysebby @eufeme @marveling-at-marvel@anyakinamidala @spookyscaryscully @sighodinson @feelmyroarrrr @sarahp879@spidey-linquentimagines @mackenziesmarvelousgalaxy @aholland01 @lostinspace33@clairedycat1810 @softwhispers @apolleo @sebstancial@buckylovelybarnes@chrys-1029 @sheddingpounds @brooke-supernatural16 @seargantbcky@someonekindalikeyou@marvel-trash07 @chuckennuggets1213 @captainmisfit13@ailynalonso15@lilypalmer1987 @nasasoldier@snuggleducky @acebabe@melswolf19 @e-g-b-o-k @iamzion-therealhabesha @fancybasementpersona @hercrazyfandomobsession@ohmybuckybarnes @sarahp879 @lovely-geek @void-imaginations @mad-girl-without-a-box @stomachfilledwithbutterflies@joulien @followeroonieclassic @tomdarlingholland@rebelfuckingblack @bakerstgirl@starkxpotts@jimmyisfab @normalperson1351 @jehun-prouvaire @peachy-vixen @mcheung0314@wowbarnes @thiccmillions@sumafamouxx @quinn-n-quill @amcrasnow @wheneggsymetbucky @krockszz @brokenanxiety @addictionmarvel @closerstars @captainradicalpassion @rockagurl @directionerfae @shawnsassymendes @irella-nyari @cadence-jeannette @rebel-emerald @blacwings-and-bucky-barnes @little-miss-headphones@winternatalias @iwishiwasnicki @writingcroissant @finallybreathee @saul-buttson@potterglory @samijolles @justahappylilblog @rebeljupiter

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes college au

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meatmeinthemiddle-mark · 6 years

Text

24-42

Pairing: 1st POV x Chan

Genre: angst?, adventure, romance

Warnings: continuous mentions of death

Summary: What if you had only a day left to live? What would you say to your family? Do the things you haven’t done just for the sake of it? What are the things will you do for the last time? How will you continue to live?

a/n: since i reached 200 followers and i managed to finish this last night i decided to post this much much earlier hope you guys enjoy reading!

“Hannah, baby, I’m so sorry, the doctor said you only have 24 hours left,” my mother weeped at my bedside, gripping my arm tightly. My dad stood at the corner not bothering to wipe the continuous tears streaming down his face. My younger brother was outside my room but yet, I can hear his saddened whimpers.

I knew that this was going to happen. Ever since I was young, I made several trips to the hospital. I guess having a ruptured kidney doesn’t give you a long, prosperous life.

“Ma, there’s nothing for you to apologise for. It’s good that I can let this suffering end soon.” I said as I reach out to wipe a stray tear off her face.

“You can’t say that Hannah! I can’t..I can’t live knowing your annoying ass is not next door screaming all the damn time,” Jeongin shouted as he entered the room for the first time that day. His red face stared back at me and made me choke up tears.

“I’ll miss you so much Jeonginnie.” Tears clouded my vision as I sit up to try and hug him. He hugged back so tightly I felt as if I was getting crushed.

T-23

I wrote my letters that night. The first to Jeongin; he is still so young, he has a great life of performance in front of him. My hands were shaking as my tears dropped onto the page. I tried to draw the brightest moments I had with my younger brother so he would continue smile with that carefree grin of his. He deserves to be able to move on and not stay stuck at this horrible memory of his older sister.

Next, for my parents; my wonderful, amazing and supportive parents. Nuturing me from the day I was born until, 24 hours from now. Wow. I’m really gonna miss them when I go.

When I finally finished them, I got myself off the bed to post them. I took my small bag full of the essentials I need; a pager for my doctor, and obviously my wallet and phone. Looking at my tired self in the small mirror, I put on my birkenstocks and started to walk out onto the white hospital hallway.

I realised I did not know where was the nearest place to drop off mail and asked a passing nurse.

“Oh, it’s at the first left once you get out of the lobby. Do you need any help getting there?” She said worriedly.

I looked at her, holding back tears, “it’s okay, I need to do this by myself.”

The lobby was as clean and pristine as ever. That chemical smell I seem to grow fond of over the few days I’ve been here. As I turn the corner, there was someone that broke that white hospital scene.

A grey-haired boy was staring outside the doors. He was staring so intensely at the doors I was almost convinced someone else would walk in. I took another step forward and saw him flinch from the sound of my shoes.

“This exit is rarely used, why are you here?” His voice sounded hoarse, as if he has been coughing hours before.

“I-I need to send a letter,” my voice cracked as he turned to look at me.

He did not look like a patient judging from the fact he was not wearing a gown like I am. I stared down at my uncovered feet and quickly walked pass him. I felt his intense stare on me as I opened the doors. I mailed the letters at the blue mailbox and tried to calm my composure after having met such a strange dude.

Before I knew it I was running. I didn’t know whether I was running towards something or running away. Strong hands gripped mine and pulled me forward. I traced the arm to its body and found myself staring at the back I saw earlier. The words on his jacket seemed to spell out something but I can’t seem to focus my eyes.

“Wait! Yo mate, I can’t run quickly in this shoes!” I shouted at him, trying to pull away from his grip. His eyes locked with mine as he started to slow down.

“You know this is considered kidnapping,” I said as I tried to catch my breath.

“You are under 18?” The boy questioned as he cocked his head to the right. I didn’t take notice of how tall he was.

“I just turned 19.”

“Then it’s called adultnapping not kidnapping” He joked. I glared at him, not appreciating the joke and tried to walk back to the hospital.

“Wait. I need you to help me with a favour,” he looked at me longingly with his eyes that were now brighter than the streetlamps.

I sighed and crossed my arms, “I’m no fairygod mother, but what’s your wish owl boy.”

“Owl boy? The name’s Chan”

“Well, Chan, my name shall be given if you give me that jacket because I’m gonna freeze.” The night air outside the building was cold and the hospital gown does little to keep me warm.

“I can’t give you this jacket because it’s stuck.” I glared at his lame response while dramatically shivering.

“Well, what the hell am are you gonna do if I actually freeze in my underwear out here.” He slowly came into the realization that I am, in fact, wearing only underwear and a thin layer of fabric.

Chan looked around sheepishly and then suggested, “you could always get some clothes.”

“Why don’t you get me some clothes since you dragged me out here?” My comment made him cough awkwardly and stare at his shoes.

He looked up at me again with those bright eyes of his, “then let’s go.”

Chan held my hand while leading me to a closed boutique. His hand held onto me so tight that the veins on his arm were almost popping. I stared at his jacket again and realised they were in a foreign language.

“You do realise that all stores are closed at 2am right?” I questioned him.

He then stopped outside a boutique and puts his hand in his pockets, “not if you have the key.”

He has a smile that reached his eyes. The hand that held mine turned the knob of the boutique and pushed the door forward. I stepped in after him and admired all the clothes on the nearest rack.

“My mother used to own this store, she sold it to another lady. I guess she hasn’t changed the locks since then.” He sat down on a poofy chair and then looked at me. “Hurry up and choose something so we can go.”

I turned so quickly I almost got whiplash, “Then isn’t it like stealing?”

He puts his finger to his lips and giggled, “It’s not stealing if we don’t get caught.“

In the end, I changed into a sweater and some jeans. I left my birkenstocks behind for a pair of sneakers. Who cares if I get caught? Can they even arrest a dead person?

T-22

We walked in silence for a while. The street and his company were unfamiliar, but I felt as if I was meant to be here.

"My name’s Hannah and I shall grant your favour tonight,” I decided and stuck my hand out for a handshake. Chan’s face lit up and his smile was so wide it showed his dimples. Holy crap, his dimples are so deep I could probably live in them.

“Hannah.” The way my name rolled off his lips made me feel electrified. As if the cells in my body are regenerating faster than ever. He shook my hand and held it for a while.

“So what’s the favour?” I took my hands out of his before he could hold it any longer.

“I know this is weird but will you just hang out with me for a day?” Chan asked softly. I looked at him with shocked eyes but kept quiet. Does he know that this is the only day left I have?

I hesitated at his request. I had to think it through. This Chan guy made me do things I never thought of doing my whole life. He managed to erase my worries and doubts with that stupid grin of his.

“You aren’t a bad guy right?” I said as I played with the ends of my sweater.

He tossed his head back and laughed heartily, "I don’t have a single bad bone in my body, love. You can trust me.”

I raised my eyebrow at him, making eye contact. His eyes were pleading, innocent. I guess I’d have my last company.

I walked towards him, closing the distance between us which caused him to let out a straggled breath.

“Let’s go then.” I said as I linked arms with him. “By the way what does the back of your jacket say?"

"It’s korean for Omega.”

#PLeASE TELL ME IF I SHOULD CONTINUE THIS #hope you all liked this tho #its my first fic so it isnt as well polised yet :')#jan speaks #stray kids #straykidznet #bang chan

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mercyimagines-blog · 7 years

Text

F.U. Part 2

Part 2 of this was highly requested a while back, so here it is and it’s officially my debut piece in writing for the first time in a while! I hope you guys are appeased with it and if you aren’t, then don’t read it? lol

Word Count: 1,817

Part one > here

It was only the third week.

The last three weeks have been a blur of ice cream, tears, friends and declining his calls.

Whenever he called, he would leave a message, always.

Whenever he left a message, you would listen, always.

Was it healthy? Of course it fucking wasn't, but what the hell were you to do?

Your eyes burned from the tears that left your tear ducts, staring at the little red notification by the phone icon. You knew you shouldn't, but you always did.

Delicately raising the phone to your ear, his voice deafened you with regret.

"Hey, Y/N. It's me, again. You're obviously listening to these because your mailbox isn't full. Or maybe, you're just deleting them and not listening to them which means everything I'm saying is going unheard. That's cool too, I guess. I just....I'm — I don't really know what I'm doing anymore I guess. It's obvious that you're not wanting to talk right now. When you do though, please give me a call. I want to talk to you, I'm....I'm sor—"

The machine cut him off, leaving him in a slight state of panic.

He sighs deeply, trying to hold it together, when really, he was absolutely broken. That was his own doing, and would be absolutely wrong to blame you for something he did; something he unapologetically did without thinking of the consequences.

The consequences being losing you.

It was a fucked up decision he made once, that he did again, and again, and again, until you finally caught on with him being more than careless with the evidence.

But losing you, had been the biggest mistake of his entire life, unfortunately it took him too long to realize that.

He clears his throat and presses his finger pads against his eyes, pushing them in until he sees spots in the dark.

"Fuck," he quietly whines.

Before he had any sane thought run through his head, he picks his phone up off the bed, dialing your number, again.

"Hey, this is Y/N. You've reached my voicemail, so please leave a message."

Beep.

"It's me, again. My other message got cut off and I just wanted to say that I was sorry. I know you're mad and don't want to speak to me, but I just....I need to hear your voice and know that you know how sorry I am. I honestly think I'll go crazy or die or do something stupid if I think you don't know how I really feel. I know, I was a vicious asshole and I...I'm just sorry, okay? Call me, please."

You slam your phone across the room, choking on a sob. You need this to stop, you need time to heal. And he's not going to let you do that, which begins to simultaneously piss you off and sadden you.

This needs to end.

By the time a month swings around, the amount of phone calls and texts have started to dwindle, but haven't stopped.

At this point, you've considered getting a new number, needing some peace and quiet from your ex-boyfriend. You have to give him props though, he's passionate about what he wants — but what he wants can't be you anymore.

He's just finished a couple of press junkets in Japan, returning home and catching eye of a lot of the social media news pages. What’s caught your eye, was how unkempt he looked, obviously not taking care of himself to his full potential.You were worried about him, of course, but he wasn’t yours to worry about anymore and to your dismay, you cannot escape him.

"Has he tried to call you today?" Your mother asks, biting into a fry from her fingers.

"No," you respond, pushing your sandwich around the plate.

"Well, that's good, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but he called me twice yesterday." You sigh, sitting back in your chair. "I can't do this anymore." You say softly, exasperated. "I just want him to leave me alone and he doesn't get that!"

Your mother looks at you with worried eyes, but doesn't say anything and picks up her plate to bring to the kitchen.

A knock rings throughout the one story home shortly after, breaking the silence and getting you out of your seat.

There he is.

"Shawn? What the hell are you doing here?" You say angrily, shutting the door quickly behind yourself so your mother wouldn't hear the two of you.

"Y/N, god it's good to see you."

"You need to leave."

"You're not answering my calls." Shawn frowns, his hazel eyes drooping.

"I haven't for the past month." You cross your arms, averting your gaze from the broken man in front of you. You're not responsible for how sad and miserable he looks in front of you, he did this to himself.

He's the one that cheated on you, multiple times, not you.

He's the one that acted like a manipulative bastard, not you.

"Why?" He whispers, his brows furrowing together.

"Because I don't want to!" You snap, opening your door. "Shawn, I swear, if you try and call me again or come to my house —" Think of something, Y/N! You didn't like what came to your head first, but you said it, anyway. "I will get a restraining order."

"Baby, please—"

"I mean it, Shawn. Stop calling."

And the door slams.

He stays standing and staring at your front door for a good two minutes, before he finally walks away, tears stinging his eyes.

He finally got to see you, yet you barely looked at him the whole time and obviously he knew that was his fault. But, a restraining order? Had he really been that bad? All he wanted was to explain and apologize, and you wanted a restraining order.

That practically ripped him apart at the core. You were - are the love of his life and sure, he took advantage of that and broke your heart. But, he loves you, and god damn it, he never wanted to hurt you. It was an accident the first time and then it became habit, ripping his morals apart at the seams.

Although he hated the thought, he left. He did want the best for you, no matter what you believed.

It had been eleven months.

Eleven long, dreadful months.

Eleven exuberant, freeing months.

You had spent time with your family, who missed the positive vibes that radiated from you, since leaving the relationship that was a spinning vortex of toxicity.

You missed him, no doubt.

You missed the way he used to hold you, as if you were the last thing on earth that was precious and delicate.

You missed your movie nights together where you and him would wrap yourselves in blanket burritos and start popcorn fights.

You missed his soft touches against your skin.

You missed his family.

You missed his lips upon yours.

You missed him quietly singing to you in the dark, when you couldn’t sleep.

You missed it all.

You didn't miss the way where you began to distrust him.

However, you were finally happy and able to move on, not hearing anything from him in a long time.

For the first two weeks after your break up, he of course tried to contact you; he wouldn't listen to your numerous attempts telling him to stop calling, texting, and coming around your house. All he wanted to to was to apologize and explain himself, but you wanted nothing to do with him. Why he didn't get that?

He finally stopped trying to contact you, when you threatened with police and a restraining order — which absolutely broke your heart to do. You would never do such a thing, but it got him to stop trying to get in touch with you.

And to this very day, you haven't heard from him. It's been almost a year since you called it quits, this is probably the happiest you've been since the start of your relationship with him.

He's been off doing tours and writing new music; the only glimpses of him you get is on his Instagram and in interviews you are sometimes able to catch on TV or YouTube. He looks like he's been doing well, and he looks good too. You're proud.

You haven't seen him since that day he showed up to your house, and there's a tiny piece of you that wishes he would pick up the phone and give you a call.

Obviously, if it had been eleven months ago, you wouldn't pick up.

But, if he called you today, you would probably answer, knowing he's changed.

You're currently getting your life back together, after the whole thing shattered, leaving you in only pieces. You have a stable job, you have a stable life, and you've made new friends - recovering from the crisis you set in for a minute, a couple of months ago.

The bell rings at the door and you head out to the front of the bakery, adjusting your apron.

"Hi there, what can I get for you?" You smile, and then you see him for the first time in almost a year.

He looks....really good, healthy, glowing. His beautiful hazel eyes stare at the board above you, his large hands reaching for the wallet tucked in his back pocket of the holey black jeans. His dark blue v-neck stretches tight around his biceps and his black ray-bans sit neatly on top of his curly hair.

"Shawn?" You say, surprised.

His eyes immediately flicker down to yours, pausing momentarily.

"Hey, Y/N." he lets out a breath, giving you a small smile.

"Hey." You respond, swallowing thickly. "Um...what can I get for you?" Your heavy heart pounds against the bones that cradle it, wow, you've missed him.

"Two blueberry muffins, please." You laugh, knowingly, grabbing the tongs inside the case.

"What's so funny?" He smirks, quirking his head, resting a ten dollar bill against the counter.

"Nothing, you just — you haven't changed." You say, pulling the muffins out and putting them into a pastry bag.

Shawn pauses for a second, closing his mouth.

"I have changed."

That sentence, struck you in the heart.

"I believe you." You reply, sliding the muffins his way.

He gradually grasps the muffins, spinning on his heel to walk out — when Shawn stops.

"Do you think that you would ever want to talk?" Shawn speaks, his brows furrowing together. "Like hang out, catch up?"

You smile at this statement.

"I would love to," you tell him, genuinely.

"Give me a call, sometime, okay?"

"Will do, same number?" He asks and you nod.

"Then I guess I'll be calling you later."

"I'll wait for your call." And then he takes off, leaving you feeling content in all ways possible.

Two days later, he called.

and that was part two of F.U.! I apologize if some things seemed a little choppy - I wrote this in a twenty three hour car ride home from Utah lol. I tried to fix most of it, but some may still be choppy - sorry dudes and dudettes. ALSO, I am 100% sure Shawn would never cheat on his girlfriend, it’s just a story, man.

#shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes #shawn #mendes #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fanfic

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rejectedspades · 7 years

Text

So maybe he'll understand.

Not that you ever look at my Tumblr, but here's why.

Please understand to anyone who does see this, accept the fact this will be sloppy, I am by far not the best writer. However, without further ado, here is my dreadful life story. (Which I am going to regret putting up online about 10 minutes after I do)

I must go back before I was born to my sister's day of birth. See, my sister was overdue for and entire month. Yes a full 31 days. Why the doctors didn't force her out, I have no clue. When she did come out she was pissed. She really liked my mother's baby making insides. She had decided if she was coming out so where my mother's insides. My mother had a prolapsed uterus. I don't really know what that means but oh well 🙃. But the doctor told her she wasn't going to have any kids after that.

846 days later (2 years, 3 months, and 26 days)

I, the flower goddess was born.

August 29th, 2001

I was born two days late, not really that bad. My sister by far won that competition. However, there was nothing off about the day I was born. I mean except for the fact that my father left half way through to go be with my younger sisters mother. He did come back...two days later to sign the birth certificate and left again.

I don't remember my baby days, of course, so I'm just gonna spit out random facts about what I remember and what I was told.

~i was potty trained a little before I was 2

~i could walk at 1 year and 3 months

~i cried over everything till I was like 10

~my father was abusive and strangled my mother in a parking lot with me in her arms.

~my first word was "mawmaa" as in Mama

~ I hated yams

~i had Mongolian Spots till I was 6! Baby's lose those withing there first year maybe 2. The school thought my family beat on me, so I had to come in with a month doctor's note.

~my father stalked my mom, sister and I till we moved to Alabama.

Oh? That last one? Yeah all I remember about Alabama was we lived in a house and I had a cat (that was all mine!), Who had 16 kittens before we moved back to Tennessee.

(I don't remember a lot of my childhood because I was hit by a car so sorry if this doesn't have a lot)

We had moved into my grandparents when we got back. We ate a lot of Chinese food which is probably why it's my favorite. Growing up I was freaky skinny. To the point where my mother called me her little Ethiopian baby. If you don't get the picture I'll try and help. I was really dark because I used to stay outside in the sun. When I poked out my stomach I looked like I was fed even though you could still see my ribcage, my elbows and knees where bigger than my actual arms and legs. You could see every bone in my body. But I ate so much food! I don't get it. Oh! And I had long hair,(that I miss very much) I mean down to my ass long.

You see I started gaining weight like crazy when I was about 7ish and my outy belly button turned to an inny. And I started looking like I ate food. And my weight was healthy. My grandmother took thinking shears to my scalp in random spots so my hair grew uneven, till I had to get it cut.

When I was nine I started middle School. Which was shit! I got made fun of because of my southern accent in a really trash school. Everyone was either rude or freaky racist, and as a little mixed girl I couldn't avoid it.

In sixth grade I had this best friend named Hannah. We hung out every weekend and she was really pretty. I was the ugly friend by far. And sooner or later my attraction for Hannah got stronger. I had slowly but surely started to realize I liked females. Hannah was beautiful in everyway. She was the only person at that school that didn't judge me, but I was to scared to even come out to her. Hannah got a boyfriend named Caleb a few months later after my discovery. He hated me. Hannah started to drift away from me and our friendship split after an argument. Her boyfriend had said something about me not having my father and told me to "get over it because he's not coming back." How did he know about my father? Because Hannah told him. This caused a huge argument at the lunch table one day and I a little 10-year-old, with huge glasses and braces stood up and beat the absolute shit out of this kid who was an entire head taller than me, than Hannah called me a bitch and made me cry. I got suspended and Caleb got a black eye and a kiss from Hannah. Do I regret it? LMAO FUCK NO!

Seventh grade, I met one of my best friends named Jessica. Me and her snuck out at her house once and than we weren't allowed to hang out outside of school anymore. Which never stopped us. We met up at the park across from her house every once and a while. She was the first one I came out to, but we kept our friendship inside school to keep her from getting in trouble.

Skip forward to 8th grade. I got kicked off the track team for fighting. And I was out as bisexual to all of my friends. Jessica and I started hanging out after her evil step mother granted us permission. I had a crush on Jessica but she was dating one of my friends that I've known since 2nd grade. They were cute and I was happy for them so I wasn't angry and Raffeal or Jessica for it. I drifted from the group though and fell in with the wrong crowd. I skipped school and started smoking cigarettes. I got kicked out of my house for about 3 months and moved in with a "friend" named Alex. I started selling pills and weed, and soon became addicted to Xanax.

Let me tell you about the ground I was in. Hanna, (not the 6th grade Hannah, this is Hanna without an extra H) Hanna was beat on by her father and her mom was in jail for drugs and shit. Next Alex he was a junky enough said, this one kid named Mac who really liked cars and smoked crack with his pot. Trey who fucked almost everyone. Jacob who was an atheist and put cigarettes out on his wrist. And me, but you guys know me by now. There was this one guy that was in our little group. His name was Eric. He was always flirted with me. We got together on my 13th birthday. He was 16 btw. Me and him hung out alot without the others. He was creepy though. He was obsessive. I had to cut it off with him, even though I did he never stopped. To this day I wish he knew what it felt like to be me. To this fucking day I want to know I made that boy cry. Eric. He made me cry so many nights.

I'm going to try my hardest to tell you why he makes me so emotional without getting emotional. Eric, had began to stalk me. Sometimes he made himself know other times he didn't. He would come to my window at nights an tap on it (heads up I jumped a little ahead to when I moved back in with my mom, he was there before and after I had. So like so there's no confusion.) One night he came just to tell me how much I was going to miss him. He left me letters in my mailbox. Telling me how he was gonna beat my ass next time he saw me in public. He told me he was going to "abuse my body" after the first couple I texted Hanna I asked if she would come and stay with me a few nights. Of course she took me up on that offer because she hated being home. I had showed her the letters and she told Alex. Alex and I had but heads alot but he was like a brother. He let me live with him for fuck sake. I trusted him. Mac, Trey, and, Alex had gone up to his house one night. Hanna and I went too. We waited out side as the guys had went around back. Jacob was in his car. He told Hanna and I to get in but we didn't. We heard a loud thud and the guys came walking back around and they had some ropes in their hands and those things that hold things together that I think are called jumper cables but I don't think so. They told us to get in the car and wait and that they would be out in about 15 minutes once they found an opening. We did and we kept ourselves busy. We talked about Hanna and Alex's weird relationship. To this day I have no clue what the hell they where. A little while goes by I have no clue how long but they came back out . They where laughing and had the ropes and things with them with them. I asked why they still had them and they said, "we wanted to be like spy's...plus we need them cause we have none" I started laughing so hard.

Now now now before you assume what they did they went in the shed and stole his shit then put tape on Eric's window and broke it so it wouldn't make a lot of noise. I had thought they just opened it cause I had no clue they had duct tape. But they went in and beat the living shit out of Eric. It made me happy, yes. But I didn't get the last laugh.

June 19th, the worst year of my life

I thought it was all good and so I went on a walk. Eric was sitting on these bricks on a road called "stone hedge" and he waited for me to pass on the opposite side of the street. He started following me and so I walked up to a park up from my house.and when I got tho the play ground I dropped a book I was holding and my phone. I turned around and screamed at him to go away and leave me alone. He stopped walking for like 2 seconds before he took off running after me. In panic I picked up my phone and started running. I tried calling Alex but I couldn't see anything because I was crying hard as fuck. I turned and threw my phone at him. I didn't bother watching where it went but there was a hill at the end of the park I had slid down it before standing up again and running twards the train tracks he had caught up to me though.

I screamed as loud as I could for help but he punched me than again and again till all I could do was beg he than grabbed me by my arm and slung me over off the gravel and in the grass.

This part is very graphic so I am sorry but please scroll to the next paragraph if you are sensitive or get triggered by assault I am very sorry -AND.

As I type this crying in my garage I want to say that it's okay. If something ever happens to you than I'm sorry. Tell someone and don't make the same mistake I did. Eric had pulled me into a creek at the back of the park and fought me to get my pants off after he won that fight he pressed his knee onto my chest making it hard for me to breath he unbutton his pants and I fought as hard as I could I swear I did everything in my might to stop him but I failed. As he did what he said he would and took advantage of my body he called me a whore.

If you know what it's like to want to be anywhere else except for where you are in that moment what it's like to feel dirty no matter how many times you shower. What it's like to bruised in places no one ever should be bruised than im sorry. I can say I understand and if you ever need anyone to talk to send me a message or please call 1 800-656-4673 it's the national sexual assault hotline and they are available 24/7. Please do not hesitate to call.

When I moved back in with my mother I didn't stop taking Xanax In 9th grade she put me in a private school. I got assaulted by a teacher after she threw me in the parking lot of the school. I was drugged out one night high as a kite and had gotten in an argument I had strangled my mother that night and afterwards I swallowed 73 pills from the medicine cabinet in her bathroom. I felt the worse I have ever felt in my life. I regret what I did to my mother. I wasn't myself. I went to Vanderbilt psychiatric hospital. I stayed there for 34 days working on myself and getting cleaned up. I spent my summer there and at home. It wasn't the best.

The next year I went back to public school. I mad new friends and was doing good. I made good grades and don't let my past get to me. That was before I got into my first real relationship. His name was Sian. We where together for about 5 months before I could t take anymore. He was sweet at first soon he became abusive verbally, sexually, and physically. I got depressed again but I told myself I wasn't going to fall back into it. On New year's the next year I met this guy and he was Everything I could ask for. His name was Nate we didn't jump into a relationship asap. But he helped me get batter after Sian and made me happy. Sooner or later we go together and we Sayed together for a year. I had broken up with him two days ago and I miss him horribly it hurts like crazy. But it wasn't the same. We argued a lot and drove each other crazy and the love wasn't there as it used to be.

Now I'm here. With you. And with my life story. I hope this helps. Maybe now you understand. That yes I am clingy, but because I need someone right now because I just lost my high school sweet heart that I had plans with after graduation next year. And yes I do get sad, because I get lost in my past. And yes I do get over emotional because I can't stand being in this planet anymore. But I'm done being sorry for it. And I'm tired of feeling this way. My mental health I'd not an excuse it's a blockade from me being happy because I've been damaged in more ways but one. But im still here for something. So can you understand now? I'm this way for a reason. But I'm not broken and I can still smile. I'm not helpless so stop treating me like I am. I'm fragile as fuck but it doesn't mean that you can't play with me. And I love you but you don't have to say it back if you don't feel the same way. It's not gonna kill me if you're honest. Just don't look at me different. It's hard for me to tell you this, so I'm telling everyone this.

So thank you for listening. But as of right now I'm fine. I'm happy for the most part. I'm doing okay. And my past will never justify me. So don't see me different.

~∆.N.D.

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