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shushiyuii · 3 years

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Adopt a Mortal

@smogs-0 Oh Smoggy~ Your angst is here, and only you can decide if there will be a part 2 or not~

Warnings: Zombies (which means this will contain mentions of death, injury, death and maybe other subjects. Be advised). Swearing. Apocalypse.

Words: 1.5K+

It’s been 3 weeks since the outbreak.

He didn’t know how he made it so far, he’s barely escaped any encounters with those monsters. Zombies as the others call them, which he honestly called bullshit on.

Not to mention but food had almost become rare at this point, so many had taken it for granted and themselves, hoping to be the only ones to survive. But a majority of the population was already gone, including his own parents so no doubt that food went somewhere.

His own group was fucked up, he ended up with them by chance. They almost killed him, to begin with, but decided they could use his agility and slim figure to their advantage of tight spaces and stuff. Which he hated but it was the only chance he had at survival.

He was now on his own in a world of Zombies. Trust nobody.

…

It’s been 3 months since the outbreak.

He was shoved to the floor, kicked by another member. “Little shit! You’re just dead weight!”, “It’d be better if we left him for dead”.

They took away his belongings, leaving him unarmed. He ran away and as he did, he heard their screams. Zombies were coming and his ‘group’ just died like complete idiots. His arms covered his stomach as he limped in pain, this was going to be a difficult situation to get out of.

…

He slammed his hand over his mouth, trying to be as silent as possible as a couple of Zombies wandered around aimlessly, hoping to catch their next piece of delicious prey. if he were to get into one of their sights. He’d be dead in an instant.

He was unarmed as stupid as it was.

Whatever he didn’t want to die here.

…

One month since the outbreak.

Hunger was all he felt for the longest time, he wondered. He didn’t remember who he was. Not that he cared, he had no control. He only wanted to eat, hunt. His reasoning. The thought of meat making in growl in excitement.

That all changed when he followed a horde of Zombies towards the humans. They shot and yelled, fearing for their lives. They were terrified, but that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered to him and the others was that their hunger was satisfied.

…

He got shot, in the shoulder. He didn’t feel it but he did stumble. In the distance, he heard, “You imbecile! That was the prototype!”. Whatever it is afterwards the humans got away.

He slumped against the wall of a corner shop, feeling oddly tired and fell asleep.

…

He woke up, with thoughts screaming at him. He looked around in confusion as knowledge flowed through his newly working brain. He was confused, scared. What happened? He wasn’t like this before?

He stood up, stumbling. He looked to the shoulder of his trench coat, the shot of the clothing being there but his skin had almost regenerated as if it had never happened.

He ran into the crowd of nearby Zombies, he pushed into them. Getting no reaction, he was sentient, and the others weren’t. Had that bullet done something to him?

…

3 months since the outbreak.

He’s learnt that he’s become different to the other zombies, he’s come to the conclusion that he’s more aware than them, almost as if he were a human in a zombie’s body.

He learnt his name was Wilbur by the wallet and ID in his pocket. Which was good to know, not only that but he no longer felt that hunger, nothing actually. He felt no pain, sensation or anything.

But one thing he did feel was more powerful and stronger. He learnt he could easily flip over cars and change his size at will, which came in handy for hard-to-reach places. Not only that but any wound he sustained was easily recovered from, barely leaving a scar.

He hadn’t yet encountered humans, probably because there weren’t many left.

He had managed to create a place of his own in an apartment with a broken mirror, it did him good with a desk to write on, a guitar he could surprisingly play, a comfortable bed, everything he needed.

He looked in the mirror, he was outrageously pale, but not that green colour other zombies had, he was missing an eye that his hair easily covered, and his beanie covered up parts of his exposed skull. Which left him looking rather human.

…

He wandered the streets a while since he really had nothing better to do. That was until something caught his attention, zombies were crowding around a particular shop with curiosity. It made him curious as to what was going on.

He followed them inside and wandered for a while, then he saw them. What had caught the zombies interest but had not been picked up by them yet. It seems that the human had managed to narrowly getaway and was now narrowly avoiding them.

The human stared at him in horror, his bright blue eyes striking Wilbur. His hair was blonde but covered in dirt, not to mention that the boy himself was covered in dust, dirt and dried blood. The human was barely covered in protection with just a red and white t-shirt, trousers and recked shoes. How had he gotten this far?

He crouched down to the human, “Hey…”. He whispered, “What are you doing here kid?”. The human’s eyes furrowed at the nickname. “Trying to get away here! Dickhead!”. The boy whisper-yelled. “Well, you aren’t doing a very good job at it!”. He whisper-yelled back.

He pinched his nose and sighed, “Get to the back room as soon as you hear a sound, I’ll distract them.”, “What? That’s a death sentence!”, “Don’t worry about me! Worry about yourself!”.

Wilbur then crawled his way to the other side of the shop, not wanting to get suspicion from the human. He then grabbed a pan from a nearby shelf and threw it to a nearby shelf, which caused enough noise to gain the zombie's attention, making their way over there.

He then saw the backroom door open, he then made his way over there quietly. Once he made it and shut the door. The boy was already barricading it, making sure no zombies made their way in.

“Thanks, man, had no idea how I’d get outta that one. Names, Tommy”. Interesting, the human's name was Tommy, “Nice to meet you, I’m Wilbur. What are you doing out in a place like this? You look a bit young to be on your own if I’m honest”.

“Hey! I’m a grown man! And uh- my group left me to die”. The boy seemed upset by that fact, looking away. “Well, they’re assholes. Don’t worry about em’ you can stick with me for now if you want.”. Wait- he didn’t mean- “Really?”.

“Yeah, don’t mind helping for a little bit”. Great, why did he agree? Now he was stuck with a child.

…

The human then began to rummage through what seemed to be boxes of already looted stuff. He managed to find an old backpack with some small tins of food and water left in a small crate. Not only that but a small dagger to defend himself with, he seemed quite exciting when he found it.

“So, Wil. How’d you end up in the outbreak?”, he asked as he continued to rummage through crates. Wilbur took a minute to answer, one thing was he the human- Tommy didn’t know he was a zombie, not only that but even himself didn’t know how he became a zombie.

“Uhh, kinda just ended up in the place?”. “Oh, you didn’t have family or anything”, “No?”. “Ah, well for me my parents died in a car crash when the outbreak hit, now I’m on my own since my group left me”.

“Why did they leave you?”, “said I was deadweight, which wasn’t true. I did most of the shit they wanted”. “Forget em’ they aren’t worth it”. “I realised that thanks again, for the save.”. “It’s nothing don’t worry about it”.

The two then made their way out of the building, then got stuck by a wall. “Give me a hand will you?” he asked as he clumsily tried to climb the wall. Wilbur then gave him a boost and he climbed over, not without giving Wilbur his own hand to help him up.

Wilbur grabbed his hand, “Woah! You got a good grip!”. “I- yeah. Guess so”. He then helped Wilbur up the wall and the two continued their way to safety…

…

The two ran as fast as they could from the racing zombies, perhaps the two were a little bit too reckless with noise and were now getting chased down by a horde of Zombies. They ran into alleyways, alley after alley.

Eventually, though, they got cornered. Tommy brought his knife, prepared to defend his life. “Stay behind me!”, “What? Are you crazy?!”, “STAY BEHIND ME!”. He growled as he kept the boy behind him.

#mcyt g/t #mcytg/t #dsmp g/t #sizeshifter!Wilbur #tiny!tommy #Shushi's writings

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dreamescapeswriting · 3 years

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Make You Silly ~ JJK [M] [Request]

WORD COUNT: 4K

GENRE: Smut, Non Idol!Au, Musician Jungkook, professor reader, unprotected sex, hotel room, teasing, oral (female receiving)

PAIRING: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

A/N: I hope this was okay for you!! I didn’t know which subject to go with so I went with something from a show I’ve been watching aha @fluffyjoons

To say that you were nervous would be a complete understatement, you were petrified of going up there to give a speech to a bunch of college kids that were all going to be watching you. Waiting for you to tell them why you were the best tutor for them to take your course and why you would be better than the other tutor's other college's have to offer. Including this prestigious college that you would be speaking at, they were the best of the best and yet you didn't work for them. Mostly because you wanted to stay at the same university as your boyfriend - Jeon Jungkook. He was a music tutor, the best of the best in his field of study. Your sweet boyfriend who you'd dragged along with you to speak at this university, with the promise that you would take him sightseeing before you left tomorrow to go home. The university had put you up in a hotel for the night seeing as though it was a long drive back home to your town.

"You're overthinking it," Jungook mumbled when he walked into the room holding two take away cups. He always founds you this way when something was playing on your mind, he knew you were scared about doing this alone which was why he'd agreed to come. He slipped you a takeaway cup with your favourite hot drink inside and took a sip of his own before placing it down on the table backstage.

"You'll be fine baby, you're a genius." He chuckled as he saw you peaking out from backstage, the huge lecture theatre seemed to be filling up minute by minute. Students were looking around the room for any sign what this was about. Jungkook placed his head in your neck as he hugged you from behind, doing anything he could to make you less anxious about this.

"Easy for you to say, you don't have to go up there and give a huge speech." You grumbled as you began to play with the skin around your nails, Jungkook placed his hands over yours to stop you and sighed softly at you. He knew that there wasn't a single thing he could say or do to make you feel better right now but he would do whatever he could to try.

"You've practised this a million times, the boys loved it remember." The boys. His best friends who were also tutors at the university you all worked in back home. Where you wanted to be right now. You had been working on this speech for weeks, practising it every second you could to both Jungkook and the boys as well as to your own students. All of them agree it was perfect but there were more students in this whole lecture theatre then there would ever be back home which made you more anxious thinking about it all.

"Are you ready Miss y/l/n?" One of the other professors questioned you but you just took in her appearance. She looked so much more professional than you did, she was dressed in a pencil skirt with a blouse while you opted for Jeans and a comfy sweater. The only time you ever wore something like she was wearing was when you had board meetings or were called in to help with a case. You had to be professional in that aspect since you were working with police and FBI sometimes.

"As I'll ever be," You whispered to her as you looked at Jungkook, he squeezed your hands softly as the tutor went out onto the stage to introduce you.

"I've seen a couple of them with your books...They already love you." Jungkook whispered as he began staring into your eyes to make sure you were okay. You wanted to do this, bringing more people into your field would be one of the best things to happen but you also didn't want to bore them with facts on facts.

"Hello I'm professor Y/l/n, but please don't ever call me that. You can all call me Y/n, or I'll come up with a nickname for myself I guess." You were starting to babble on a little like you did whenever you were nervous but you took a deep breath and began looking at everyone. Trying to remind yourself why you were doing this and what it was that you did for a living. This was nothing compared to what you had done in your life and your profession.

"Some of you are probably really interested in criminology while some of you-" You made eye contact with the ones who looked bored or that were being forced to be there.

"- Well you look bored or that you're being held here against your will. I promise you that this course, what I do for a living will not bore you. In fact, it will open your eyes to things. Make you realise that you probably don't know people as well as you think you do." You began explaining that what you did wasn't just criminology but that you also worked on analysing behaviours for certain people or certain types of people.

A hand rose towards the back of the class and you nodded at him, telling him to speak up. He was around 6''2 with brown hair to the length of his neck. He had huge glasses on his face and a notebook in his hand, he was clearly one of the ones that wanted to be there.

"You're like those guys on the TV, the ones that study serial killers and the way their minds work?" You nodded at him as he slowly sank back down into his seat scribbling away onto the notebook, he was probably just as nervous as you had been since most of the theatre had turned to look at him. You knew what that felt like, to have all eyes on you so you began to talk more on it if it meant they would become more engaged with you.

"Yes actually, exactly that. Do you mind if I borrow this?" You questioned one of the females who was sitting in the front row beside Jungkook, her hair was styled just like yours and she was wearing a pair of glasses similar to yours as well. In her hands was your book, sticky notes sticking out of the side where you assumed she'd taken notes of things. She slid it over to you carefully and you picked it up in your hands staring at the cover.

"I study criminal's behaviours, what makes their mind tick, what sets them off and what from their childhood could turn them into what they were." You held up the book in the air, showing off the white cover with a skull on the middle.

"This is one of the many things I do. I compile all of my information into books, this is just one of them...I have many." The book you were holding was one of the first you'd ever written, 'Talking with Serial Killers'. Inside was an introduction to the behavioural work you did along with real interviews with real serial killers that you had conducted yourself.

After the speech about what your course was about, there was still some time left over so you decided to ask if any of them had any questions. By which time all of the students seemed to be gripped on what you did for a living and wanted to find out as much as they could. Even those that had seemed bored in the beginning were really paying attention now, begging to know more. Some of the tutors from the college were even eager to ask questions.

"We can go row by row if I don't have time I can give you all my office email." They all began talking over one another so you smiled softly and looked at the first girl beside Jungkook, the one that had given you her copy of your book.

"Are you working on a new book? and will you sign mine, please?" You still had her copy on the podium so you nodded at her slowly walking over to it and taking out a pen from your pocket.

"I'll sign it and yes, I'm trying to write one on my subject instead of interviewing this time." Her smile got larger as you began signing the book right away before slipping it back in front of her. Jungkook smirked at you as he continued to watch how well you handled the class, he knew you were relaxing into it more and more.

"Who haven't you interviewed but would love to? Dead or alive?" This time it was the professor that had introduced you to the theatre, she was watching you the whole time. Throughout the entire speech, she'd been making small notes on her phone while listening to you.

"I would love to interview the real Zodiac killer, just because we never knew who he was. There's a lot of unsolved crimes that I would love to find the person who did it as well," You laughed softly trying to move on from interviewing and onto what you actually taught at the school.

"How would you know if it's a male or a female killer? Based on the crime scenes?" A male asked this time, you didn't see where the question came from he just sort of shouted it out from the back of the classroom.

"Well, typically female killers prefer a cleaner way of killing and cleaning up. They'll sometimes show more sympathy for a victim as well. A male wouldn't care about the mess or how a victim is found but it all depends on the mindset of the killers." Mouths began to fall open as you began giving them facts about how to determine gender and a profile from one murder scene or multiple depending on the style of killing.

"You can normally tell if their also an organised killer or a disorganised killer. People give a lot of themselves away without even realising it." More questions began to fly at you while Jungkook sat in the front row looking as proud of you as he ever did, licking his lips as he watched you pacing the stage. He was also so proud to know his girlfriend was the smartest girl in the room.

"Can you judge any of us on how we are on our day to day basis just from looking at us?" The question came from a younger-looking male in the classroom, he was sitting in the middle row on the edge seat. You began walking closer to him, looking at everyone around him before you got to where he was sitting.

"You're the youngest here which means you either snuck in or you're probably smart and ahead in your school life. The way your peers are looking at you I'd go for the latter. You also chew on your nails which means you're nervous about something, or it's a habit you can't break. There isn't much to tell because I haven't been watching you all long enough and none of you has done much while here." You began walking down the stairs when you turned back to look at him, his fingers were on the top of his desk as he looked at you.

"You play the piano as well, I could see the way your fingers danced along the top of the desk throughout the lecture."

The questions continued to roll in until the final bell rang and everyone had to head home or to their dorms.

"You guys will have Professor Y/n's email, I'll make sure to send out a mass email tonight with it attached! Please drive safe or walk safe tonight." The main professor said as she began escorting people out of the theatre. Jungkook was watching you closely while you spoke to a couple of students all holding signed copies of your book.

"You can email me any time, and here-" You handed the first girl who had given you her copy of your book to use an application to your course,

"We're always looking for bright students." Her whole body language shifted as she began getting happier walking out of the room while studying the paper.

"I told you that you would do great," You whined as he brought out the, "I Told You So's" and walked into his arms while yawning.

"I'm ready to get back to that hotel room and fall asleep." You giggled softly as he put his arms around your waist as he began to compliment you.

"You look fantastic up there you know," He whispered as you began waddling towards the door, his arms still wrapped around your waist as he walked behind you not wanting to stop touching you for even a second.

"My baby is so smart," He cooed in your ear as you awkwardly smiled at tutors watching you.

"Kookie, wait until we're at the car at least." You whined out as he continued to fill you with compliments. He linked your hands with him as he began walking side by side with you, telling you how amazing he thought you were up there.

"So fucking hot the way you just told everyone all those facts." The longer he went on the more you began to realise what he was getting at. Jungkook was a little jealous when it came to people watching you and you weren't blind. There had been a couple of guys watching the entire time but there was only one guy that you ever wanted.

"Everyone has their eyes on you," He groaned out as he started up the engine. It was pitch black outside and you had a ten-minute car journey back to your hotel room.

"So intelligent and so sexy." He chuckled as he reached a red light just outside the college gates. This was when he leant across to talk to you, whispering in your ear,

"They have no idea how much I fuck you dumb do they? How their smart professor knows nothing but my name after I've fucked her tight cunt out." You grew wetter with each remark he was using and he smirked at you, knowing exactly what he was doing to you. He knew what effect his words had on you were.

"J-Jungkook focus." You whimpered as the light turned green but he just smirked evilly and began driving. He knew exactly what to say to make you like putty in his hands. Everyone thought you were this smart innocent tutor but it was far from it when it came to the bedroom. Jungkook would do one thing to you and have you melting into a puddle mumbling nothing but his name.

As he continued to drive he continued with his dirty remarks about what he was going to do to you when you got back to the hotel room that night.

"I'm gonna fuck you so dumb you won't even know your own name." He smirked as he saw the flash of excitement grow on your face but what he wasn't expecting was for you to take some of the control from him. You leant across to his seat slightly and ran your hand over his jeans, you could already feel hard he was through the fabric.

"Look like I'm not the only needy one here," You whispered in his ear before biting down on his ear lobe. You knew this was only going to end with him being rougher with you but you didn't care, you wanted to tease him back.

"You wanna fuck me?" You bite down on his ear again before you began palming him through his trousers, smirking when he let out a whine and bucked his hips into your hand.

"Such a good boy-" His hands began to tighten on the steering wheel and you could see just how annoyed he was getting with your small touches.

"S-Stop it, this is dangerous." You nodded in agreement with his statement and pulled away from him,

"Then I'll stop touching you," You put the emphasis on the word 'you' as you began to slowly unbutton the jeans you were wearing and slide your hand into them. You weren't going to touch yourself, you knew you couldn't work your own body the way that Jungkook did so you just began moaning and pretending to touch yourself while he drove.

The ride was agonisingly slow but as soon as you got parked up Jungkook practically ripped you from the seat and stormed you towards your shared hotel room.

"Such a tease." He hissed pushing you face down into the mattress, your legs on the floor as he pulled your ass into the air. You let out a loud giggle as he pulled your trousers down roughly and slapped you across your ass.

"So fucking needy, you just couldn't wait until I got you somewhere private?" Another slap across the ass as you let out a loud giggle. He growled bringing you into the standing position as he ran his hands down the front of your body. His long fingers dancing along the line of your panties,

"They have no idea how much you loved to be fucked dumb, do they? Hmm? What would they think if they could see this." He practically ripped your thin underwear from your body and forced your legs apart with his knees. Your head rolled back against his chest as he dragged one finger up and down your folds, humming in satisfaction about how wet you were for him before he slowly pushed one finger into you.

"So warm, so wet for me." His voice could have melted butter, you whimpered as he held his finger deep inside of you. Refusing to pump it until you bucked against him desperately. His other hand wandered down your body, his fingers caressing your curves. The soft pads of his hands pushing and pulling on your breasts as you let out a whimper of his name.

"P-Please, m-move." You panted as he began to push his one digit in and out of you slowly knowing it wasn't enough for you but he didn't care.

"I love you so much," He whispered before pulling out his finger and pressing your back down on the bed, pulling your trousers from your body and throwing them somewhere in the room.

"So pretty like this, all spread out for me." He remarked as he admired the view of your dripping core from behind. He sank down to his knees and moaned as he ran one finger up and down your folds again.

"I'm gonna taste every last drop of that delicious pussy of yours." You whimpered as he words as he kissed your entrance lapping his tongue around it slowly before he pushed his tongue into you. Moaning into your core as he sent vibrations throughout your body making you cry out in bliss.

"Fuck," You cried into the bed as he began using his fingers to play with your clit sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body making you whimper with each touch.

"Gonna fuck you with my tongue," Was all he said before pushing his tongue in and out of you quickly, using all eight muscles in his tongue to send you into a pool of whimpers and screams of his name.

"God your mouth...S-So good." You mumbled into the sheets as he smirked at you in satisfaction. He couldn't see the look on your face but he could already tell your eyes were rolling back. The way your hips bucked against him meant you were close so he turned you around, laying your back flat on the bed. He pushed two fingers into you. Flexing them and pounding them into you rapidly as you began gasping out his name. He'd found your sweet spot within seconds and he was going to hit it repeatedly until you cried out his name loudly.

"C-Close! Shit! So close!" Your words began to slur as you felt your orgasm approaching you closer. The words falling from your lips turning into meaningless words as you neared your high.

"Cum for me angel," He moaned into your clit encouraging you to cum for him as he continued to pump his fingers into you with newfound vigour. Loud whimpers began to leave your throat as you cried out his name on your release. Your legs wrapping around Jungkook as you cried out his name. Bucking up as he continued to fuck his fingers into you throughout your orgasm. The pleasure washing over you making you feel like you were on a cloud.

Jungkook slowed his fingers down while smirking up at you, licking you clean as you began panting heavily trying to catch your breath.

As you went to slide off the bed to return the favour he began shaking his head and tutting, this wasn't about him tonight this was all about you.

"Your reward for being such a smart girl tonight," Words were floating around in your head, you wanted to say something back to him but it was hard when you were still trying to come down from your high.

"Look at you, already fucked dumb." He chuckled darkly as he freed himself from his jeans, kicking them out of the way as he pushed the head of his cock between your folds. You let out a whimper as he moaned out your name,

"Still dripping wet baby, you want more?" He questioned. Keeping the head of his cock at your entrance, pushing so just the tip was inside of you and you hissed at him for more.

"Want more." You ordered at him and he tuts at you shaking his head in disapproval,

"So eager for a good fucking," He panted as he began to slowly push into you. Spreading your legs so your thighs were pressed to the bed. Everything on completely display for him to see.

"F-Fuck," You panted as he began to rock in and out of you slowly. Watching as he cock disappeared inside of you and smirked whenever you clenched around him.

"Faster-Faster," You stuttered out to him as you looked up into his eyes. Your eyes were tearing up as he continued with his slow thrusts,

"I-I thought you were going to fuck me dumb. I'm still of sound mind," You challenged him and something snapped within in. You could see the way his eyes turned as he wrapped your legs around his waist to bring himself deeper into you. Slamming in and out of you roughly letting nothing but chants of his name fall from your lips.

"Is this fucking you dumb enough baby? Huh?" He reached down with one hand to begin rubbing your clit, watching the way your back ached from the bed and you cried out his name.

"Taking me so well, aren't you? Such a good fucking girl." He grunted as you continued to cry out his name. Digging your nails into his shoulders as your eyes clenched shut.

"Close! C-Cum! G-Gotta cum!" Your sentences were failing to make sense which filled Jungkook with pride, he was doing his job properly. He smirked looking down at you as he continued to attack your clit with his thumb, speeding up the snap of his hips.

Loud and fast gasps began to leave your throat as you realised he was going to keep fucking into you, letting you cum without permission. Excitement washed over to you pleasure took over your body making you whimper,

"Jungkook! Cumming!" You screeched out dragging your nails into the sheets as your back arched from the bed again. Your pussy clenching around him as your orgasm ripped through your entire body sending your mind into a freefall. As soon as Jungkook felt you clenched around him he came into you, groaning as he continued to fuck you through his own high. Pressing a soft kiss on your forehead as you giggled in a drunk-like state. He always loved when you giggled after an orgasm, it made him feel like he'd done a good job.

"Such a good girl," He mumbled before falling down on the bed beside you but you stayed silent. Your legs spread on the bed as a mixture of your cum and his leaked from your core. He chuckled at the state of you and shook his head,

"Y/n?" He called out while watching you but you didn't respond, you just drunkenly smiled at the ceiling in your orgasmic brain fog too lost to even try to find words.

"Told you I'd fuck you dumb, princess," He whispered as he came over to you, wrapping a blanket around your body before going to run you a hot both and give you the aftercare you deserved after the day you'd had.

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c @kneel-begyourpardon @taestannie @rjsmochii @bisexualmess007 @sw33tnight @sweeneyblue1

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tellmealovestory · 3 years

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Planning

Summary: Planning for the wedding has begun with choosing a color palette.

Notes: Also posted on my ao3. Part of Something More

I know that it’s been awhile since I’ve last posted and even longer since I’ve updated this and for that I am so sorry. The past few months have been rough and I’ve been struggling to write anything, but I’m trying which is what counts I guess.

I haven’t forgotten about Something New - there’s for sure one more part, possibly two, but for now here’s something and again I am so sorry for how long it’s been taking me to get these posted.

Warnings: Surprisingly none - unless you count idiots in love falling more in love.

"Black and yellow?"

"No."

"Purple, orange and black?"

"No."

"Red, white and blue?"

"Bucky, no!" Laughing at his suggestions you playfully shoved his shoulder as he shot you a grin full of mischief. “Besides, I think those are more Steve's colors."

“You opposed to pastels?" His grin only widened when you wrinkled your nose in distaste. "Red and pink?"

“Red and pink isn't the worst idea you've had," you mused, a thought working its way into your mind as you eyed the mess that surrounded you.

“Sweetheart-,” he started, but you silenced him with a look.

Reaching for a bridal magazine, one of many that laid scattered across the floor of the living room where you were both currently seated you flipped through it while Bucky continued to rattle off suggestions. Frowning, you pushed it aside before grabbing another one. Finding what you were looking for you showed him a spread with dark reds and pinks and a gold that had the barest hint of a shimmer. It was for a Valentine’s Day wedding and while you weren’t getting married on that date you still thought it was pretty.

One look at his face told he wasn’t impressed.

"Neons would be better,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders, his fingers flicking a brightly colored post it note that was sticking out from the magazine.

"Please tell me you're joking."

"Maybe."

“James!”

And this time he was the first to laugh, the richness of his voice filling up the room and drowning out the sitcom dialogue that drifted from the television a few feet in front of you.

He made it difficult at times like these to get and stay annoyed at him, but nevertheless you made an attempt with a glare shot in his direction. It was useless though when he was looking at you like that. All bright blue eyes shining with a love that still managed to steal your breath anytime he glanced at you. Laugh lines around his mouth and before you had a chance to warn him that he was seconds away from not having any say in your wedding colors he was tilting his body towards yours, lips landing on the side of your head. An innocent kiss, but it sent your heart spiraling.

Almost as much as when he murmured against your skin with breath that was warm and smelled of the chocolate ice cream you’d been sharing, “Alright, show me what you were thinking.”

Waking up your sleeping laptop that rested on the coffee table you expertly navigated the rabbit hole of Pinterest. Scrolling past boards you had created for flowers and centerpiece ideas, dresses and cakes you found the one titled colors.

A sea of palettes stared back at you; turquoises, magentas, oranges and yellows. Mints and whites. Pastel purples and soft pinks, creams and pale blues that screamed romantic. Greens and blushes. Purple and grays.

And finally, towards the bottom of the board a mix of navy blues, grays and burgundy. Burnt oranges and peaches. Sunflower yellows and dusty blues.

A collection of colors that reminded you of him.

“Something like this I thought.” Chewing on your lower lip you glanced from Bucky to the screen and back again. Anticipation thrummed through your veins as you waited for him to say something.

“It’s a lot of blues.”

“You look good in blue.”

“All the burgundy?”

“You also look really good in burgundy.”

“You really picking colors based on how I look in them?”

“No,” you scoffed with a quick roll of your eyes that he saw right through. “Okay, fine, but it’s not the only reason.”

“You gonna share those other reasons?” He asked, leaning forward to take a closer look.

"Um... I... like those colors?" Even to your own ears the words rang false. "And they're a better choice than the random ones you were shouting out." There another reason added to your list.

"Y/N," Bucky said, amusement dripped from his voice and he bit back a smile as he pushed the laptop towards the middle of the coffee table.

For a moment the only sound in the apartment was that of a commercial advertising pizza.

Turning to you he cradled your face in his hands. "You know no ones gonna be looking at me," he said softly, the pad of his thumb brushed across your cheekbone. "They're all gonna be looking at you and how beautiful you are."

"I haven't found something to wear yet."

"Doesn't matter, sweetheart."

Biting your lip your eyes danced between his and you couldn't help asking, "What if I get a really poofy dress and I end up looking like a cupcake again?"

It was a struggle for Bucky not to laugh at the mention of a cupcake. A million memories ago, but he could still remember that night. Your fathers wedding to his new, younger bride, the hideous pink dress she had made you to wear, the endless teasing you had endured from him, the new nickname he had bestowed upon you before you banned him from ever calling you that again. In his mind it didn't matter if when your wedding came you wore a dress that made you look like a cupcake, drenched in pink that looked as if it came from a jumbo sized bottle of pepto-bismol you'd still be beautiful in his eyes.

Dipping his head down he brushed his lips against yours in a kiss sweeter than any cupcake he had ever tasted.

"Doesn't matter," he whispered again, his mouth moving over yours slowly. "You’re still gonna be the most beautiful person in the room, cupcake."

It was hard to kiss him back when your lips were curling up into a smile, a laugh bubbling to the surface followed by a rush of memories at the mention of cupcake. He hadn’t called you that in years and though you still hated it you didn’t have it in you right now to tell him to shove it.

“Is that your way of telling me you hate my choices?” You asked, breathless from the feeling of his lips against yours. “No,” he laughed, stealing another kiss. “It’s my way of saying you should really give my suggestions another chance.”

“Buc-,”

“I’m kidding!”

Another kiss, this one to your forehead as the commercial ended and the sitcom returned. Turning your attentions back to the screen at the same time you rested your head on his shoulder, eyes scanning through the options again, his for the second time and yours for what felt like the hundredth since first compiling the list.

“I really do like these colors. Especially this one,” you said, bringing up a palette with dusty and navy blues, marigold and a hint of dark green.

No matter how many options you had looked at you kept going back to it. It was pretty and it was an added bonus that he looked in most of those colors.

“That the one you want?”

Biting your lip you switched back to your second choice. Navy blue, maroon and gray. More colors he looked good in, more colors that you had been drawn to, but in your heart you knew which one you wanted.

“Yeah, but what do you think?”

“I like it,” he said.

“You agreed to that awfully quick.” Your tone was light and you couldn’t help asking, “Are you only saying that cause you’re tired of looking?”

“No. ‘M saying it cause you like it.” His eyes darted down to the shiny engagement ring that sat pretty on your ring finger. Lifting his gaze up he continued, “And cause I don’t care about the colors.”

No sooner did the words leave his mouth and he was left scrambling to explain when he saw your widened eyes.

“Sweetheart.” His hand slid along your cheek. “Whatever colors you choose are gonna be fine, but I’m not gonna be paying attention to them. Our friends and family might, but the only thing I’m gonna be paying attention to is you and how I’m finally marrying the woman of my dreams.”

His words sunk in amid the closing credits of a sitcom and as tears welled in your eyes and your laptop drifted off to sleep the only words you could manage were a breathless, “Oh, Bucky.”

You had never thought planning your wedding would be so emotional.

You kissed him softly, savoring the way his lips moved against yours in a practiced ease that still made your stomach fill with butterflies. Just as he was about to deepen the kiss you pulled back with a start and a flurry of questions.

“Wait, if you don’t care about this why did we spend two hours looking and why did you offer such awful suggestions?”

Bucky swallowed, his cheeks flushing deep pink. “You asked me to,” he said simply, before adding on as his cheeks turned even darker, “Maybe I wanted to make you laugh a bit.”

Mission accomplished.

Parting your lips to speak he beat you to it saying, “I also wanted to spend time with you and I know how much planning this means to you.”

It felt as if your heart was going to burst right out of your chest. You didn’t know anyone who would willingly want to spend that much time going over colors, debating between two shades that were nearly identical when they could have been doing something they enjoyed.

Searching for the words to tell him all of that you came up empty, settling with a simple, but true, "I love you, Bucky."

Which you followed up with another sweet kiss, once again marveling at how lucky you were to be marrying him.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader #my writing

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 4 years

Text

Took You Long Enough | Charlie Gillespie

Requested by @faithiebrock01: Can you make one where Charlie and I are best friends (who secretly like each other, but are super oblivious and everyone around us can see it) on set of JATP and we end up having to do my car crash scene where get in the car accident (because in the show I die a few weeks after they do in the show, but I did in the accident also make that my character knew them before). When the scene ends with me in the hospital bed slowly dying, Charlie runs off looking sad. He then won't come out of his trailer for anyone until I get there saying "I'll handle it" to the crew member who was previously trying. I go in lay with him on his bed and ask him what's wrong then he says "it seemed so real" while crying and I calm him down then we end up confessing love for each other and then falling asleep cuddling. My name: y/n My nicknames: sweetheart, sweetie, love, Princess, queen, angel, nugget (Or whatever you can think of.)

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x female!reader

Warnings: Hospital scene, mention of a car crash, fluff

Words: 2043

A/N: This was cute to write! I worked on it during an online class so I’m sorry if there’s any mistakes in there! Hope you like it!! :)

Four years. Four years I’ve known Charlie Gillespie. Four years of us being best friends and only now we’re colleagues too. The both of us had booked Julie and the Phantoms a couple of months ago, and we’re now spending time together every day on set. It’s also been four years of me having the biggest crush on Charlie, but I will not tell him that. It’s just going to ruin our friendship and the dynamic in our friend group on set. The cast and crew have gotten close during the process of the bootcamp and filming. They constantly tease Charlie and me for having such a close relationship and that we should just date already. Charlie had laughed it off, and so I started to do it too. “Ready to go?” Charlie asks when he picks me up from my trailer before filming. I’d just gotten back from hair and makeup, and I was rehearsing my lines in the trailer to make sure I’ve gotten it down perfectly. “Yes! Let’s go.” He links his arm in mine as we walk off, letting the silence wrap around us in comfort. “What other scenes do you have today?” I ask, wanting to occupy my mind with something other than his skin touching mine. “I got some with the boys and Madi, and tonight, we’re doing the hot dog scene.” I pout, remembering that’s the scene where he’s going to die. Fake die. But still. It’s kind of sad. “Cool,” I respond with a smile, “Was going to ask you if you wanted to go grab dinner tonight, but I guess your hotdogs are dinner.” He snickers, and I can’t help but laugh too, hiding the fact my heart is racing. To me, his laugh is the most beautiful sound in the world. “Yeah, I doubt that’s a great idea,” he replies, “But I’d love to grab lunch? What time are you on break?” I bring my schedule in front of me in my mind, trying to remember it. “I think around two? Depending on how long the hospital scene will take.” Charlie nods his head, clearly thinking about how to make it work for us to eat lunch together. “I think we’re going to do the hospital scene too, so when we wrap that, we might be able to go?” “Yeah, sounds good!” I reply and let go off his arm as we reach the other boys and Kenny, ready for the first couple scenes of the day. “We’re going to do the Now or Never scene first,” Kenny tells the boys, to which they nod. “Y/N, you can watch from the side where their best-friend-slash-manager would be.” I nod my head curtly, telling him I understand his orders. “Give it your all, Rockstar,” I say to Charlie and bump my fist against his shoulder. He simply smiles at me, that perfect, award-winning smile that makes me go weak in the knees before I head off to my spot at the side of the stage. The four boys on stage are drenched in fake sweat at the start, and then rock out so hard on the first take, real sweat starts dripping down their faces. Charlie’s hair’s sticking to his forehead and his muscles gleam and glisten with sweat. I hope the camera won’t catch me drooling over my best friend’s hotness. Charlie himself catches my eye every now and then, his mouth curling up into a smirk. “Charlie,” Kenny starts after the third take, “Can you stop looking at Y/N, please?” My cheeks heat up when Owen, Jeremy and Taylor chuckle. “I know she’s your best friend, but Luke is focused on the soundcheck, yeah?” Charlie nods his head, and I swear I saw him blushing too. “Yes, Kenny. Sorry, Kenny.” Jeremy and Owen glance at each other, exchanging a knowing look. They’ve asked me multiple times if something’s going on between Charlie and me, but I told them there wasn’t until one night, I was crying about how much I loved him, and Owen and Jeremy were there to comfort me without judgement. Now, they don’t stop teasing me relentlessly. I know I’m going to get even more teasing comments about it later. I’m not ready for that.

Once the scene’s done, the boys and I get to catering to get a snack before heading back to set for the next scenes. The ones where I die. How fun. To say I’m nervous is an understatement. I know it’s all fake and I’m not actually going to be in a car accident, but it’s still scary. The ladies from costume and makeup get me ready for the hospital scene, taping fake wires on my arms and putting one in my nose as well while I’m covered in fake bruises and band-aids. “Ready, Y/N?” Kenny asks, and I nod my head. “If the tubes ever get annoying, just tell us and we’ll take a break, okay?” I nod again and Kenny steps away and behind the camera. Charlie’s there too, watching and being the greatest moral support puppy I could ever ask for. “Season one, episode one, scene three, take one,” Jaime says, working the clapperboard, and then Kenny yells “Action!” I lie entirely still on the uncomfortable hospital bed, breathing ever so subtly, and then holding my breath a second before the loud monotone beep sounds and doctors come rushing in. “And cut!” I open my eyes to find Charlie, and when I do, I catch him walking away with his head down. My eyebrows furrow, and I want to ask someone to go and check up on him, but the makeup team has already swarmed me to touch up the makeup a little. After a few more takes, Kenny tells us we’re all good and lets us go. Once the tubes are taken out of my nose and stripped away from my arms, I hop off the bed and go to find Charlie. Michel and Soyon An are in front of his trailer, knocking on the door and yelling his name. “What’s going on?” I ask Soyon An. “I’m not sure. He just ran off set with tears in his eyes and hasn’t come out of his trailer, but we need him for a fitting for tomorrow.” Worry sets in the pit of my stomach. Why would he run off crying after watching the scene I just taped? “I’ll handle it,” I tell them with a smile. The two people from the crew I’d grown closest to, offer me a smile in return and walk off. I take a deep breath before knocking on the door softly. “Char?” Ever so carefully, I open the door to his trailer and step inside the darkened room. I almost think he’s not even in here when a sob comes from the left-hand side of the trailer. “Hey,” I coo and sit down on the edge of the bed beside his curled up body. “What’s wrong?” “It just all seemed so real…” he whispers, and sniffles. “Why, thank you,” I joke, but Charlie’s sob makes me realize this is serious. “Hey, Char… Pumpkin…” My hand reaches out for his shoulder and start circling my thumb across his bare skin. “Sit up for a second, please?” He obeys my whispers and sits upwards, so I can scoot in next to him. He rests his head on my lap, sniffles taking over. “Why did you get so upset over a scene, Pumpkin? You know that’s my job?” “I know that, Angel,” my stomach flutters at the nickname, “I just…” He sits up and turns to face me, crossing his legs, “I couldn’t help thinking ‘what if something really happens to her?’, I couldn’t stop imagining losing you and it felt terrible. I don’t ever want to live without you, Angel…” He reaches for my hand and presses a kiss to my knuckles. I can feel the tears dropping down to my skin. It breaks my heart in a thousand pieces seeing him this broken. “You’re my best friend.” Right, the friendzone. We’re still here. “I know, Pumpkin… I can’t even imagine my life without you,” I tell him honestly. “But nothing’s ever going to happen to me. Or you. You’re going to have to do a lot more to get rid of me, Char.” He chuckles lightly. I reach up to wipe his tears away with my thumbs, cupping his cheeks, and then resting my hands there as we stare at each other. The tiny beam of sunlight from the small window lights up his face enough for me to see the sparkles in his eyes. “I don’t know if this is going to change anything, Angel, but I have to tell you,” he whispers, bringing his hands up to take my wrists and removing my hands from his face. “I trust us enough for not ruining anything between us.” I furrow my eyebrows, worried about his sudden serious behavior. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but I’ve been in love with you since the first day I met you.” My breath hitches in my throat, and I wish I could say something, but my brain is not functioning correctly right now. “I never dared to say anything because I was scared something would change between us and you wouldn’t feel the same and it would make things awkward. I was scared to lose what we already have. You’re my best friend, but I am so desperately in love with you that it’s kind of embarrassing and kind of distracting me from my work, like you saw during that first scene today. I am so desperately in love with you, Y/N Y/L/N and I don’t ever want to lose you.” He looks at me with hope in his eyes. I still can’t say anything. Too much in shock over his confession. “I understand if you don’t feel the same, Angel. I just… We can forget I said anything tomorrow and just go back to—” I finally manage to move and grab his face in my hands, bringing him closer to meet me halfway for a kiss. He’s a little startled at first, but then melts into the kiss and kisses me back. “I’ve been so embarrassingly in love with you for years and I never dared to say anything either,” I tell him, his face lighting up even more. “I cried one night blabbing about how much I love you and Jere and Oh had to comfort me for hours. It’s been so painful but I’m so happy you—” he cuts me off by pressing his lips on mine again in another kiss. “Were you asking me out on a date earlier when you wanted to grab dinner together?” he asks as though the memory from this morning just flooded into his mind. “What?! No!” I reply but can’t help blushing either. Charlie raises his eyebrow at me. “Yeah, fine. It was a pathetic attempt,” I roll my eyes with an amused smile on my face. Charlie laughs whole-heartedly before leaning in to peck my lips once, twice, three times. The fourth time he captures my lips with his, it’s a deeper, more passionate kiss than the ones before. The both of us are too wrapped up into the kiss, we don’t even notice Charlie’s trailer door opening until loud cheers startle us to break apart. Jeremy and Owen are stood in the trailer, cheering and exchanging high-fives in elation. “Finally!” Owen shouts, throwing his fist up in the air. “Bro, this took you long enough.” “Yeah, I know,” Charlie replies with a smile tugging at his lips. “At least now this girl won’t come crying to us again about how much she loves you,” Jeremy exclaims, patting my head as if I’m a child. The four of us laugh, and I look at Charlie, who gives me the most tender smile. “So… When’s the wedding?” The two of us scoff, and then order the two to get out of the trailer to give us some time alone, which they give us gladly. I’ve been waiting for this moment for years, and now that it’s here, it’s more than I ever imagined.

Taglist: @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @parkeret @lukeys-giggle @gingerxarmy @lovesanimals

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #charlie gillespie #luke patterson #reggie jatp #jeremy shada #Alex jatp #owen patrick joyner #julie molina #madison reyes #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie fic #requested #taylor kare #bobby jatp

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celestialrry · 3 years

Text

call me baby

psa: this might have a part 2 if anyone wants it, ik its a shitty ending lol but I wouldn’t know what to write after this. also I have another angst piece in the works but its literally taking so long to write 😖

1.8k

summary: Being hopelessly in love with your friend isn’t ideal, especially when Harry doesn’t even seem to see you as more than a therapist.

warnings: angst, pining, cursing

You looked over at your phone, now vibrating against your bedside table, lit up with his contact photo, a picture of him sticking his tongue out. “Hi.” You picked it up, wrapping your free arm around your torso, sitting up a bit straighter out of instinct even though he couldn't see you.

“Hey, love. Can I get some advice?” He asked through the phone, his voice a bit gravely and deep as always. You silently sighed, biting your lip in hesitation. Everytime you’d get a call from him, he would either rant about his current partner, get advice about them, or just want you to be there when he needed someone to talk to.

Of course you would always be there for him, regardless of time, space, and anyone he gave his heart to. He was Harry Styles for god's sake, your friend since forever, the man who treated everyone like they were the best thing in his life, most of the time at least. He lit up any room he was in and when you’d see him it would always be fulfilling, even if the two of you sat in silence in a room of just four walls.

“Of course, what’s up?” You asked after a brief moment of silence. It was currently 4 in the morning in your single room flat in London and you didn’t think Harry knew that, but you weren't going to tell him.

“It’s just, Ana’s has been so clingy lately and we’ve only been together officially for 3 weeks. It’s making me want to end things.” Harry admitted into the phone. You almost rolled your eyes at his words. Not once has he called you to ask about you in months, but that's just how things were. You weren’t sure why you expected anything else.

“If you aren’t happy with her, end it,” You spoke up after a while, unsure if you were giving him the advice because you were desperate to be with him or it was genuinely what he should do. “There’s no point in being with her if you’re considering ending it over her being clingy.”

You heard him sigh into the phone before speaking up. “Yeah, we’ll see, thanks,” He said your name. You smiled a bit at that. It was crazy how he could make you feel so special by just the tone of his voice, absurd, really,

“ ‘Course. So-” Before you could say anything else you heard the beep of the phone being hung up. You took a deep breath, trying to think of how Harry and you were before everything changed.

2 years ago

“I can’t believe you’re officially moving to L.A.” You said as you stood in his bedroom doorway, watching him pack up his last few clothes.

“Me neither.” He simply said.

Before you could stop it, you felt a salty tear roll down you cheek. As you wiped it away, he turned around, his face dropping all previous joy, concern flooding his features.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He used the nickname he gave you 11 years ago when we were 10. It was crazy how the two of you had known each other so long, and now you were both 21, and he would be living in the city of angels.

“Just gonna miss seeing you as often as I usually do is all.” You laughed, the tears flowing more freely now. One Direction had just gone on hiatus and after spending some time at home, Harry decided to switch it up a bit. You didn’t understand why he couldn’t just switch it up by not wearing skinny jeans everyday, but it seemed he wanted something bigger than that.

He pouted and walked over to you, giving me a hug before mumbling in your ear, “I’ll call you everyday. Promise.”

Promises were made to be broken, it seemed. He only calls you when he needs a hand, and only answers if he’s alone. You wish you found it more frustrating than painful, maybe that way it would be easier to move on, but you have yet to do so. You’ve asked yourself why you were still silently pining over him, with no answer in sight.

The last time you saw Harry in person was almost a year ago, when he came back to visit his family. Up until that trip he called you everyday, or close too, wanting to know about you day or he just “wanted to hear your voice”. Then when we were together it was like no time had passed while he was away.

1 year ago

“Oh shut up.” You scoffed, lightly punching his bicep.

He just laughed in return, rubbing his arm acting like you had actually hurt him.

“I feel like you just got back and now you’re leaving again,” you said after a bit, knowing he was leaving the next morning. “Plus,” you added, gently playing with his hair. “I’m gonna miss your hair, it’s so fun to braid.”

He looked over at you as your hand fell to rest on his shoulder, running your fingers through his curls. “I know, but I’ll come back soon. I’ll try not to cut my hair for you, don’t worry.” He smiled at you, leaning over and pulling you into a hug.

You just returned his grin and hug, and stuck your fingers through the ringlets, having way too much fun with his hair. You noticed he was looking at you the entire time you were messing with his hair, but you convinced yourself it was because he had nowhere else to look.

Eventually, you were so close to him you could see freckles you never had before. Your breath hitched, not knowing if you should backup or not, your hand still resting on his shoulder in his curls. Then all of a sudden he was far away again, and it was like nothing had ever happened.

Your heart ached with the love you had for Harry, and it seemed nothing could cure it except him and when you woke up the next morning and instinctively checked your phone, you frowned as you noticed no notifications from the one person you truly wanted to hear from.

You weren’t sure when your hurt extended from the pain of practically losing a friend to the pain of not being able to be with someone you love. You weren’t sure when you started seeing his lips as kissable and not something to put lipstick on for fun. You weren’t sure when you started looking at his hands as something to hold and not as a blocker for your playful punches.

You weren’t sure when you started stealing glances more than you usually did or avoiding eye contact because it made you nervous. You weren’t sure when your stomach was no longer empty and then filled with butterflies. You weren’t sure when he stopped calling just to talk, or when he stopped picking up. All you were sure of was that you were hopelessly in love with someone who could never feel the same.

✧˖*°࿐

He called a few more times about the same girl, Ana. You had spoken to your friend about it, and you were slowly getting over him. Each time you were getting cut off and hung up on, and it took a really long time for you to know you deserved better. He hadn’t called you since he attempted once and you didn’t answer. It went on for a few months, he would call you almost everyday, alongside texts like “Hello?”, “Pick up, please?”, and the text that came last before you blocked him, “Are you okay?”. He didn’t deserve to know, and sure maybe you shouldn’t have just cut off all contact, but there was no other way to get over him.

A month after you blocked him, and you were no longer sulking when you checked your phone and no longer crying to sleep. You were becoming happy thanks to your self control, and finally learning that just because Harry didn’t love you, didn;t mean you shouldn’t love yourself.

You were sitting on your couch when there was a knock at your door. You looked up from the book in your lapa and stood up, scurrying to the door, not wanting the person at the other side to be waiting.

You swung it open, met with the last face you expected to see. He looked concerned almost, and almost immediately you were wrapping in his arms, after over a year he was holding you once more. Except this time you didn’t want it. You pushed him off of you and stepped back. “What are you doing here Harry?” You asked, a scowl on your face.

“I-y’wouldn’t answer me and then nothing went through, god, I was so worried, love-”

“No,” You shook your head. “Don’t call me that, you can’t just come here after being an asshole to me for over a year. You are not allowed to be worried about me, not when you haven’t bothered to ask how I am after all this time.”

His mouth dropped open in shock, you were always so calm, you never had yelled at him before. “I’m sorry-”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it.” You pursed your lips.

“Just let me explain,” He said, hesitating like he was trying to find an answer to this, but you knew whatever he told you, nothing would change. “I-when we saw each other last, we almost kissed, or at least I almost kissed you, I love you, I was so scared that y’wouldn’t feel the same, and I guess I got caught up in trying to make you jealous. Please, m’so sorry.”

He took a step towards you and you took two steps back. There was no way he felt the same as you did- you had. And even if he did, you always knew he was shit at handling feelings, but there was no excuse.

“No, you can’t do that, say that. I don’t care if you mean it or not,” You began, tearing up. “That-thats’s so fucking terrible to do to someone, especially if you love them. I’m tired Harry, I’m done with you, I’ve been done with you for months.”

“What?” He asked, like he couldn’t believe you.

“Please leave.”

Your heart broke at your own words, but you couldn’t forgive him. Not now, and maybe not ever.

“Please I-”

“I said leave, Harry.”

You could see his watery eyes as he opened his mouth to protest once more, but then closed it. There was nothing he could say. Not anymore. He was always leaving, but this time, for the first time, you wanted him to.

#call me baby #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles

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kitkat1003 · 3 years

Text

Who Are You Really?

Just who is Yin Spirit?

Anyway finally made a Spirit fic

Cover Here

Ao3 link

Chapter 1: Escape

Spirit has been scared for a long, long time.

Not for forever, because there used to be good times. Good times were the days spent scampering through the forest and eating anything they could off of bushes and trees, finding out what was good and not while hiding from the predators that could never catch them. Good times were days following Mom around the Inn, helping mix up medicines and salves and watching as she fixed wounds and illnesses as if they were mere inconveniences rather than life threatening. Good times were scritches behind their ears, nights curled up on a branch or in a soft bed next to someone who cared, where there was nothing to cause nightmares yet.

But the good times are behind them.

They have been for a long, long time.

But Spirit won’t let that get them down! They’ve been around for...well, they lost count of the years a while back, because Mom was the one who kept count and they didn’t feel like asking. They wonder if they’re timeless, if they just keep going because no one has told them to stop.

They’ve told themself to stop plenty of times, but it never sticks.

But they have a day job! Sure, it doesn’t pay anything, but going around and helping spirits move on is something they think their Mom would be proud of. One of their eyes, the one their mom helped fix, can spot spirits without any trouble and that makes the job easier.

It’s the one on the left side of their face. The lonely one.

They’re good with their blades and they can fight off the occasional mean spirit if they happen to pop in. They’ve been busier, too, since they can’t rely on mortals to fend for themselves in smaller cases anymore.

Mortals wouldn’t know what to do, because the types of mortals who knew how to fend off spirits, who knew the sigils and magic necessary for self-protection, those died off long ago. Peacetime breeds lack of preparation; those traditions and that vigilance was lost to time. A lack of consistent danger leads to laziness.

Spirit isn’t lazy. There’s always danger.

The job is a bit lonely, though. Spirit doesn’t interact with humans without a disguise, because monkey demons seem to cause more of a stir than others. Spirit thinks Monkey King is the reason behind it, but then again, Monkey King has been missing for a while. And everyone blames Monkey King for everything. Demons and Gods alike hate him. Spirit’s pretty sure the name Sun Wukong is banned from being said in the heavenly palace, even.

They duck behind a building and through a secret passageway a few miles out from the nearest city.

They do have a second job, after all.

Bull clones greet them, red eyes glancing over them before moving out of the way so Spirit can enter. They pass through the very, very lavish halls of the building, down towards the basement.

Or, well, down towards the workshop.

They can tell Red Son is up in a tizzy, because things get hotter and hotter the deeper they go in. That usually means that Red Son is upset. He’s been upset more often lately.

Spirit tries not to think about how it’s probably because Princess Iron Fan has become someone who no longer reminds them of their Mom; rather, she’s more like their other parent.

“Hi Red!” they greet, and Red Son really is in a mood, because he scowls at the nickname.

He’s hunched over his desk, hair wild. It flickers, whipping around like actual flames rather than the controlled shapes Red Son prides himself in styling, and Red Son’s hands burn the metal tools he holds. When he flips up his welding mask, there are bags under his eyes, his pupils burning with exhaustion.

Spirit winces at the sight.

“I am Red Son! Address me as such!” he shouts.

Spirit flinches back a little. Sometimes Red Son’s shouting is easy to handle and other times they want to curl into a ball until the storm passes. This is more of the latter.

“Sorry,” Spirit mutters, and they mean it. “I keep forgetting. You used to be Red Boy, you know? I get them mixed up, so saying Red makes sure I’m right no matter what!”

Red Son glances over at them and softens. It’s a secret, but Red Son has always been a little soft. Soft isn’t what a Princess Iron Fan needs, though, so Red Son has put his heart on the shelf, so to speak.

It’s admirable. Spirit knows that as a kid, you have to do a lot to keep your parents happy, or else you won’t be good enough anymore and you’ll have to go. They hadn’t told Red Son that when they’d met, but they’re glad Red Son learned before anything too drastic happened. Princess Iron Fan hadn’t seemed like that type of parent when Spirit had first met her, but ever since Demon Bull King was sealed away…

Spirit sees less of Princess Iron Fan every time they visit. It’s likely for the best.

“You may call me Red in private. Not in public. Or around mother,” Red Son acquiesces.

Spirit smiles, warm.

“Thanks Red.” They reach into their pocket, pulling out a mechanical piece. “And here! That part you wanted!”

Red Son snatches it from their hands, and they jerk back at the violent motion, a shot of fear jolting up their spine.

“About time!” he snarls, but there’s no heat to it. Spirit knows Red Son enough to know when the anger is more performative, though they’re still a little wary regardless.

“It took a bit to find, you know. I was as fast with it as I could be, you know that,” Spirit assures. They take their favors very seriously, after all. If they fulfilled it in a less than perfect fashion, it might not count, and if it didn’t count then that would mean that they could get hurt.

“Yes,” Red Son mutters. “Adequate work.”

“That brings you up to…” Spirit pulls out their nifty favor book, flipping through the pages until they spot Red Son’s name. “Ten favors!” They tally it down.

Ten favors means Spirit can mess up ten times and not get hurt. Ten favors means ten degrees of safety, ten layers of protection. It’s another blanket of relief.

Red Son doesn’t deign that with a reply, setting the part onto the workbench and turning it around. He measures it out.

“This is more than enough material,” he mutters, glancing over at Spirit questioningly.

Spirit rubs the back of their neck, sheepish.

“Yeah, I know you said a specific size, but finding flame resistant, rust resistance, magically reinforced metal in a specific size isn’t easy! But, I got this lazer thing,” Spirit reaches into their pocket and pulls it out. “It’s tuned to the specific enchantment so you can use it to cut the metal! And you can keep the extra material!” They hand it over to Red Son.

Red Son rolls the device around in his hand, before glancing up at Spirit, seemingly unimpressed.

“I thought it was nifty…” Spirit mutters. They would have thought Red Son would like to have extra material. He’s always got another invention on the backburner, so more stuff is better, right? And they brought him a new laser cutter thing! What’s wrong with that?

Then again, Red Son has been a bit more particular about perfection as of late, so that could be the issue.

Spirit chews on the inside of their cheek and tries to not take it personally. Why bother, when fighting back will lead to nothing but regret and pain? They’re not strong, and they know that. If they were strong, they’d still have four eyes and a mom. So it’s easier to let it slide off their back than make a fuss.

Even if it does hurt a little. But that’s fine.

“I suppose it’ll do.” Red Son slides down his welding mask and starts cutting the metal down to size.

Spirit watches, rocking back and forth on their feet, because watching Red Son work is always fun. They used to watch their mom work, whenever there was a patient, and she’d always ask them to grab this herb or that gauze. From start to end, Spirit would see their mom fix up any health issue with practiced, simple movements. Always graceful and soft.

In contrast Red Son is very animated, when he’s in the zone, with sharp, harsh motions and dangerous flames that have them stepping back a few times. Still, Spirit has been getting a lot of parts for whatever it is Red Son is making, so it almost feels the same. It’s a wonderful feeling, to be able to help in the creation of something, whether it be a healed patient or...

“What’s all this stuff for?” they ask, because now that they think about it, they were never told.

Red Son freezes, and Spirit takes that reaction as reason for why they weren’t told. They take another step back, out of the immediate blast zone (last time they checked, Red Son’s explosive temper had a thirty foot radius, with the most dangerous flames being within ten feet of the explosion) and tries not to make a mistake that could cost them. They have their favors, but those only got so far, and they only have ten! They can’t lose them.

“If-if it’s okay to ask,” Spirit fumbles, fidgeting. Their tail curls around their leg, an anxious habit. “I was just curious on how you’re gonna use all this stuff I’ve been bringing.”

Red Son doesn’t turn, but his posture does loosen ever so slightly. “...Mother wouldn’t want me to tell you,” he does seem a bit apologetic at the refusal.

Spirit gets it. Princess Iron Fan knows them. Spirit doesn’t betray, but they’ll do anything for a favor. And if someone wants information they already have, why wouldn’t they give it away?

“Can I know what you’re making? You don’t have to tell me how you’re using it, I’m just curious.” They kind of like eavesdropping. Sometimes, when they finish a job around mortals, they’ll lurk around to pick up the town gossip. Mortals have a lot to talk about, since they don’t have mortal peril to contend with.

“It’s for a gauntlet,” Red Son admits. “A glove so powerful that the wearing could lift anything with it!”

His hair flickers wildly in excitement, voice rising in pitch and volume as he continues.

Spirit “oooo”’s in appreciation, clapping their hands.

“Sounds exciting!” They have a few guesses of what said gauntlet could be used for, but no one tells them to think for a favor, so they keep those thoughts to themself. “Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair. That stuff burns!”

Red Son does not laugh at their joke. To be fair, they’ve said it about a hundred times in the past thousand years. Red Son does smile, for a moment, before turning back to his work.

“See you, Red!” They get a wave as they leave, which means they’ve improved Red’s mood a little.

If Red Son is in a good mood, he’ll actually say goodbye, but a wave is far better than when he just ignores their departure.

They head up the stairs and then down the hall toward the way they came in, and nearly run into Princess Iron Fan in their haste to leave. Their vision is a little lopsided, one side of their face having one eye and the other having two, so they can miss things if they aren’t paying attention. It helps if they close one eye to even things out.

“S-Sorry ma’am!” They quickly bow, standing up straight a moment later.

They usually try to hunch over when they’re around others, since their height can be seen as an intimidation tactic or even a sign of disrespect, for those with big egos, but Princess Iron Fan could never be intimidated by them and to insinuate such would be the real insult. After all, Princess Iron Fan is the wife to the Demon Bull King. Clearly, size means little to her.

“Spirit,” Princess Iron Fan’s voice is colder than it has ever been, and Spirit shivers. “I see you have delivered your latest favor.”

“Yes ma’am.” Spirit nods with a small, what they hope is respectful, smile. “Do you have any other favors you need me to do?”

The Demon Bull Family has been Spirit’s greatest...well, ally is a bit strong, but Spirit likes them a lot, out of those that typically call for favors. While Princess Iron Fan has gotten less maternal over the years, she’s never outright mean to Spirit, and they take what they can get.

“No, we’re fine,” Princess Iron Fan waves a hand, before her gaze turns sharp.

Spirit feels their breath catch in their throat and they clasp their hands tight behind their back. Their tail goes ramrod straight, the tip brushing the floor.

“I’ll ask you once more,” she starts. “Align yourself with the Demon Bull Clan. You will have our protection and will be at our disposal.”

Spirit bites back a sigh, because Princess Iron Fan has asked them a few times to join, and they do appreciate the offer, really, but it just is...too much. Maybe they would have considered the offer more when Princess Iron Fan was nicer, but Spirit has seen the expectations she’s put on Red Son and they don’t have it in them to disappoint another parent.

They don’t know what she’d do, if Spirit failed her, but they know it would hurt.

“Sorry, ma’am, but I don’t align myself with clans. I’m a free Spirit, so to speak,” they bite back a giggle at the pun.

Princess Iron Fan’s eyes flicker yellow and Spirit wonders if they’re going to have to run, but then she sighs.

“Very well then. Stay out of town for the next few months. For...your own safety. If things go according to plan, then…” Spirit nearly jumps back at the feral smile that graces Princess Iron Fan’s face. “Things are going to get messy around here.”

Spirit takes a shaky breath, and nods.

“Yes ma’am. Farewell.” They bow, and then run off.

Jeez. This is exactly why they keep away from all this stuff. The Demon Bull Family is scary, and Spirit just wants to dole out favors in peace.

They don’t have any favors in mind on the backburner, and no one has called for them, so they head to the nearest town outside of the one Princess Iron Fan has told them to leave, and decide to clean up the local spirit activity there.

The next few months are relatively uneventful, if only because there’s no new favors for them to spend their time on. Sometimes there are dry spells. They once went two years without a favor, and boy, was that a boring couple of years!

It gets really lonely, some days. They’ll play as a human for a while, intermingling with the mortals who have no clue what spirits haunt them.

Spirits don’t have to be people, they just have to be things that were alive. A dead relationship is just as haunting as a person. Dead hopes, dead wishes, dead family ties, dead lives you’ve left behind—all weights that cling to auras.

Spirit knows they have plenty themselves. They’ve lost a lot. It sticks around.

Being around humans is hard nowadays, though. They used to hang out around humans a lot. Helping their Mom out in the Inn with patients acclimated them to seeing humans of all shapes and sizes, but then they had to run. And they never stopped.

Staying around humans brings an itchy feeling that feels too much like grief. They don’t like remembering how things used to be, because that only ever hurts. So, when they get too entrenched in the past, they pull away, hide in the forests around the towns.

But they don’t fit in with the wild either. Far too used to civilization, they can never find a place to stay. So they wander.

No one can not notice the carnage that happens. Spirit recognizes Demon Bull King’s aura from miles away, and as the surrounding areas evacuate, Spirit heads towards the danger to investigate.

Normally they’d run away, but whenever they were around Demon Bull King, he seemed nice. Fluffy and kind and ever worried and furious about his son’s imprisonment, demanding Spirit send word to Red and come back with an update on the boy’s condition.

Usually, Spirit wouldn’t try to go toe to toe with the Guanyin, but Princess Iron Fan was inconsolable and Demon Bull King had nearly begged.

So they snuck in to give Red Son, then Red Boy, a letter, and Red Son had them send one back. It was an arrangement made simple, Spirit the messenger. They wonder if the Guanyin knew the whole time and was just letting them sneak around, but regardless, they gained a rapport with the family.

And then Demon Bull King was sealed away, and Princess Iron Fan was despondent. Nothing Spirit said could get her to stop crying, and when they’d relayed the news to Red Son he’d begged on his knees for them to sneak him out, so he could help his mother grieve and move on.

That favor was a hard one to decide on. Again, risking the ire of the Guanyin was not something Spirit was interested in. They knew what the Guanyin could do—she managed to reign in Sun Wukong and she could keep Red Son imprisoned. What would she be able to do to them, a monkey with less than a quarter of the power she’d dealt with before?

But Red Son pleaded, and Spirit caved.

Their history with the family makes it hard to be worried about their safety around Demon Bull King returns, but that doesn’t stop Spirit from worrying about Demon Bull King himself. Being imprisoned for so long is likely unpleasant, and who knows what happened to him underneath the mountain? How has it changed him? It’s not like something like that doesn’t hurt.

They could do without the violence, but Spirit doesn’t try to judge other people’s decisions. If they were locked up for a while, unable to see their family, they might be upset too.

But Spirit doesn’t really get angry, on the regular. Anger doesn’t do anyone good. People getting angry at them has only been bad for Spirit, so the idea of them letting that same anger fester in them so that they hurt someone is ludicrous. And what would their anger accomplish, anyway?

There’s enough pain in the world. Spirit doesn’t feel like adding to it.

They sneak around the levelled town, watching Demon Bull King raze the ground, wondering if there are any mortals hurt. Spirit catches a glimpse of a few spirits wisping around in the rubble, a moment later. They’re of all ages, some even children, and the sight makes them wince. None of this is right, mortals shouldn’t be getting hurt like this.

What did they even do, to deserve the ire of the Demon Bull King? Anything? Or is this all meaningless rage, directed at someone weaker, someone who can’t fight back?

A hand, reaching down towards them, grasping them by the neck and pulling them up, up, up. They kick their legs but their feet touch nothing, and the spoon comes in closer, and it digs, down, down, down—

Spirit takes a breath. There’s no point in letting the past cling.

They would say something, maybe say hello and distract Demon Bull king from adding the to death toll, but that would just get them killed. And Spirit has never been the one to step in and save someone. They’ve never been a hero, not when it counts.

Demon Bull King looks neither fluffy nor kind. It seems that, just like with Princess Iron Fan, time has hardened whatever fluffiness he had. It was as if the mountain had pressure cooked the lid on his temper, letting the anger boil over into the carnage below. And while the rage may have been….justifiable, almost, it still makes Spirit turn tail and run to the memory of stomping feet and angered roars that never were stopped by their mom’s pleads.

They duck away just as a newcomer arrives, weilding a very identifiable staff. Spirit doesn’t catch who the newcomer is, exactly, but it has to be Monkey King, right? Who else could wield the staff?

They scamper off to the sounds of a battle they don’t want to be in the middle of, passing by Red Son on the ground. The sight makes them slow their escape, stopping to kneel besides him for a brief moment. He groans, hardly conscious, and they place a bottle of healing balm in one of his jacket pockets for later, before they finally make it out of the battle range.

They don’t see how the fight ends, but they know Demon Bull King certainly didn’t win.

Town reconstruction is pretty quick. They haven’t caught up on all the different technological advancements mortals have managed in a thousand years, but last they checked this sort of damage would have taken years to fix, not just a month.

Mortals are pretty crafty in this day and age. Spirit doesn’t exactly interact with all the new technology because it all seems to change so fast. They interact with humans every once in a while, maybe a week at a time every few months, but they watch from the sidelines more often than not. They’ve been called a wallflower before and it seems fitting. They like watching the world pass by, and every time they think about joining the parade, the procession is moving too fast for them to feel safe jumping in.

It’s after a few days of scaling the rooftops of the newly rebuilt town, finding the lost spirits, and helping them fade into the underworld, that they get a summons. Being the wanderer they are, most clans who know of them give them a token of sorts, one that they can use to notify Spirit when said clan is in need of their assistance. They keep them on hand, hidden in their pocket.

Sometimes they’ll jump around to hear the different tokens clack against each other. It’s a fun sound.

They pull out their keychain of many, many tokens, and find the glowing one.

Ah. The Demon Bull Family.

Spirit considers ignoring it, but that would likely not end well, considering Demon Bull King’s newly-demonstrated-and-somehow-worse-than-before temper. So, they sigh, and press the glowing red eyes of the bull token, letting the pull of the call teleport them to where they need to be.

They appear beneath the looming figure of the Demon Bull King, and they quickly bow, before looking up with an anxious smile.

“Hello, sir,” they greet with a tiny wave. “It’s nice to see you again! I was pretty sad when I heard you were sealed away, so it’s nice that you’re out.”

They bite their lip, hard, to stop themselves from saying anything else.

Princess Iron Fan is sitting on Demon Bull King’s shoulder, and Red Son is at Demon Bull King’s feet, looking...uncomfortable. Spirit glances at him and smiles. Red Son remains stoic, silent, and upset.

It makes them wonder, because they remember Demon Bull King being able to tell if Red Son was in a bad mood just by how he wrote in his letters, always sure to tell Spirit to bring an extra something or other if the latest letter had revealed Red Son’s dour mood. How Demon Bull King can look at Red Son now and ignore the clear signs of sadness that are written in the red lines beneath Red Son’s eyes, the rage that comes from hurt that paints the tight set of Red Son’s shoulders, the frustration that reads in Red Son’s clenched fists, Spirit doesn’t understand. He sees it, right?

Maybe that’s just the eventuality of parents. The good ones die, or they stop pretending.

Spirit was hoping that Red Son would look happier after his father returned, instead of scared. They’d hoped things in the family would have gotten better, with Princess Iron Fan being happier and maybe kinder with her husband back at her side. But, well….being under a mountain and spat back out into the world thousands of years after is probably quite the culture shock.

Spirit worries. Red Son only has two eyes. Losing one won’t be as easy as it was for them, starting with four. If it comes to that, of course.

“Spirit,” Demon Bull King’s voice rumbles, far darker than it used to be.

It always had a baritone timber, but now everything is said with an undercurrent of a growl, as if he’s angry before anyone has even done anything.

It reminds Spirit of their father way too much. But that’s...fine.

“We have another favor to ask of you,” Princess Iron Fan continues for her husband. “We want you to steal Monkey King’s staff.”

Spirit opens their mouth to say yes, of course, as they always do, but then the words sink in, and everything comes to a screeching halt.

“What?” Is what comes out of their mouth, incredulous and terrified. “No-I can’t-how could I even lift it? Isn’t it a million pounds? I thought only Monkey King could wield it!” Their tail wraps so tightly around their leg that it hurts, as they tremble in place and refuse to look Princess Iron Fan nor Demon Bull King in the eye.

Red Son’s face shifts from neutral displeasure to panic, at Spirit’s refusal, before he steps forward.

“The gauntlet you brought materials for will fit you fine,” He holds it out, even as Spirit recoils. “It gives the wearer the ability to lift Monkey King’s staff.”

Spirit scrambles to argue back, again, because they can’t do this, is everyone here crazy? Sun Wukong isn’t someone they can sneak around, or talk around, or use a favor around. He’s a being that has gone up against the Gods, fought them head on, and won. The only person who could beat him was the Buddha himself, and the Buddha could only seal him away. Spirit isn’t strong, they’re just crafty and careful, and neither of those things matter when going against the Monkey King. Even if they managed to grab the staff, Monkey King would catch them before they took two steps away from him.

They’re so dead. Their hands clutch at their face as they try to control their panicked breathing. They blink a few times to focus and swing their arms out towards the Demon Bull family as everything bursts out of them.

“I-I can’t fight the Monkey King, though! He beat you, the Demon Bull King! I couldn’t even-how could I—” They’re rambling, half terrified they’re going to be killed for saying anything in dissent to the request, but far more paralyzed by the idea of fighting the Monkey King of all people.

Monkey King has not met them and owes them nothing, which is worse than if he hated them and owed them something. They don’t know what he’d do to them, if they met, but they know that they like being alive.

And fighting Sun Wukong is a good way of making yourself not alive.

“The Monkey King has chosen a successor. A mortal boy,” Princess Iron Fan explains. “He’ll be far less skilled, and far easier to overpower.”

Spirit bites back the argument that if that were the case, Demon Bull King would have won when he returned. Clearly, they’re being used as a pawn, and they don’t mind that usually, because it doesn’t always lead to them being put in the line of fire. And hey, pawns are pretty useful, right? They like being useful. But—

“How old is he?” They have to ask. It’s important.

“A mortal,” Princess Iron Fan says. “He could be no older than Red Son, in mortal years.”

Red Son is younger than they are. Red Son is a kid.

“No.” Their voice is sharp.

Red Son takes a step back, unused to the tone. Even Princess Iron Fan goes still.

Spirit doesn’t have a lot of lines in the sand. They’ll do just about anything for just about anyone. Just about, though, and they refuse to falter on this.

Ten years old and curled on the ground, clutching their face as their father roared, feeling the emptiness in their skull because he took it, he took it and it hurts—

“I don’t fight kids,” they say. “I don’t. The successor has to be a kid, right? Smaller than Red Son, and Red Son isn’t all adult, right?”

“I am an adult!” Red Son shrieks in outrage, but Spirit has tripped too far into terror to stop talking.

“I’ve been told the mortal brain doesn’t develop until one is twenty five, and Red Son isn’t at that age, right? Not with the way demons like us age, anyway. So, I can’t! I have a rule,” they shrug a little helplessly.

Oh god what are you doing you’re going to get killed shut up stop talking stop stop stop—

“And besides, you think I can beat someone who can go toe to toe with the Demon Bull Family?” they laugh, a little hysterical and shaky.

Spirit glances up and regret it, because Demon Bull King’s face is dark with rage. Red Son keeps staring at them like they’re already dead, and Princess Iron Fan’s eyes glow. They feel very, very small here, shoulders hunched up as they manage something that could be described as a smile if you didn’t know what a smile was.

Useless, Useless. If you keep messing up, maybe you’ll finally have a normal number of eyes, and wouldn’t that be funny?

“H-hey-I’m not a miracle worker! But I can give you some information, anyway. There are a lot of powerful artifacts you could use, I know where they are!” Spirit offers, voice shaking.

They fidget, staring up and waiting for the other shoe to drop. On them, or in their favor, either way. They can run anytime. They wouldn’t get far, they know, but they have to try in that situation, don’t they?

Demon Bull King’s eyes glow, a snarl on his face that curls up his lip to reveal sharp teeth the size of Spirit’s arm. Spirit trembles, and watches as Princess Iron Fan considers them, eyes glowing as well, before she pats a hand against Demon Bull King’s head and whispers something into his ear.

Spirit expects an axe a moment later, but instead—

“An acceptable proposal,” Princess Iron Fan says, finally.

Spirit manages to stay upright, so relieved they might just pass out. They won’t be dying today, probably. That’s good! Cool. Nice.

They’re mad at you. Can’t you feel it? You have to run, before they can catch you. Remember what happened last time? You can’t expect this to turn out well. Keep on guard.

They tug on their sleeves, shuffling their feet. Cool.

“So, to start, I would suggest the Jade Dragon blade,” they start, without prompting. “It’s in the manor outside of town. It’s an ancient blade passed down from the Dragon of the West Sea! Very powerful.”

They continue to prattle on about any and all artifacts they can think of that would be useful, from the blade all the way up to the weird blue power source locked up in a tomb that no one touches for some reason.

Spirit had gone to check it out, once, but looking at it made their eye, the lonely one without its pair, hurt. So they left it alone.

They talk for about an hour before they’re relieved, and they nearly trip over themselves in their haste to get out of there. They run in one direction until their legs burn, and curl into a ball on the ground, trying to breathe.

They said no. To Demon Bull King. They can’t just do that, they don’t have that type of power! That whole fiasco had to have shaved a favor or two of protection off of their tally. They’ll have to edit that in their book, when their hands stop shaking enough to be able to write.

It’s fine. It’s fine! They handled it, like they always do.

They’re going to come after you and take your eyes. They don’t even need a spoon. Demon Bull King’s claw will work just fine, it’s large enough. Or maybe they’ll use one of Red Son’s inventions, to make it more painful.

Spirit fights the urge to scream and buries their face in their knees. Deep breaths.

It takes them a few hours to calm down and they meticulously erase two tallies from Demon Bull King’s count. There’s still five left, they still have room for error, it’s fine. Sure, the sight makes their stomach churn and they hate to erase, but they have to. It’s better to know where you stand than to pretend, no matter how scary the truth is.

Satisfied, they tuck the book away and lay back, staring up at the stars.

They should really check out the town, though. The idea that Sun Wukong of all people has a successor is near ludicrous, but Princess Iron Fan probably wouldn’t lie to them. Either way, checking it out is imperative, especially since such a newcomer means a possible new client!

If Monkey King has a successor, maybe Spirit can be of assistance, can offer a favor. Just like with how a favor for Red puts them in the good graces with his parents, the same may be able to be said for Monkey King and his successor. And if that’s the case, then they’ll stop at nothing to make it so.

Maybe, if they plan this right, Spirit can finally be safe from everyone.

They have to try, right?

#kitkat1003 #Yin Spirit #lego monkie kid #monkie kid #monkie kid oc

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amberlynnmurdock · 3 years

Text

Library Series (Pt. 15)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Chapter Summary: Thanksgiving is next week.

AO3 Link

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hey all! I am still working on this story no matter how long it takes me and no matter who sticks til the end. To those of you who have just discovered it or those who are still reading, thank you so much. This chapter sets up the next one and it’s super fluffy. I hope you all have been doing well, staying safe and healthy during this crazy time we live in. In the meantime, enjoy some Matt Murdock college fluff. And message me if you have... anything to say! About your life, Marvel, anything. I’d love to catch up again. OKAY ENJOY <3

Wet fog. It sticks to the dorm window. Glancing at the clock, you see that it’s barely seven in the evening. You wipe the window with the sleeve of your pajama shirt to see outside.

There’s not much going on. It’s a week before Thanksgiving, and everyone on campus was just finishing up exams. Many have already went home for the holiday. Marci left two days ago with Foggy. Which left your dorm room all to yourself, and… Matthew.

Ever since that night outside the cafe, he’s been spending time with you a lot, which you had no problem with. You’d finish your late class on Thursday and see him waiting for you patiently at the end of the hall, cane in hand, leaning against the cement wall. The two of you had lunch together every Tuesday because that’s the only time the two of you don’t have a class at noon. You walk him home, and you text him when you get back to your dorm.

Right now, he’s here again. There’s a record spinning at a low volume, and you’ve lost track of what it was you and Matt were listening to. You laid down after dinner and got sleepy, and let Matt take over flipping the discs, raiding your collection. You knew he couldn’t see what he was picking, but he always managed to play some of your favorites.

You slump down from your dorm bed and join him on the fuzzy carpet, leaning against the side of your bed. Your arm brushes his and you feel the urge to bring him into an embrace. But you don’t.

It dawned on you that tomorrow, you’d be leaving for Thanksgiving break yourself. You were excited: you hadn’t seen your family in weeks and the cafeteria food was starting to get old. A home-cooked meal was exactly what you needed. But at the same time, you felt like you were going to be missing something, and it was painfully obvious what it was. In fact, the reason why is sitting next to you right now, behind red tint glasses and an aloof grin on his face.

“I love this song,” Matt smiles as he stretches his arms. It’s a song by Big Star. You don’t reply. You smile instead.

“Are you okay?” Matt asks you after a short period of silence. You forget he can’t see your smile sometimes. A guilty feeling wells in your chest.

As if he can hear your thoughts, Matt finds your hand and holds it.

“Yeah, I am,” you say uneasily. “Are you going home for Thanksgiving? I forgot to ask.”

Matt replies after a moment, “No. I’m not.”

You quirk an eyebrow. You realize you never asked Matt about his…family. You know his father passed away, and he’s never mentioned his mother. You didn’t feel like now was the right time. You decide to play the fool.

“Do you usually go anywhere?” You ask him carefully.

“I usually go with Foggy every year, but this time he is at Marci’s. It’s okay, though,” Matt gives a small smile, “I told him it was okay after he denied to a hundred times.”

You sort of felt silly in that moment. Why didn’t you bother to ask Matt if he’d like to join your family on Thanksgiving? You honestly assumed he had somewhere to go–but now you think you know why it was never brought up. Matt probably didn’t want you to feel bad. You notice he has a tendency to do that–hide how he really feels.

“Well, you are welcome to come to my Thanksgiving. If you want!” You nervously add the last part in. You suddenly felt embarrassed. Were you moving too fast? Were things getting serious? Were you okay with that? More importantly, was he okay with that?

“Uhm, yeah,” Matt answers you sheepishly. For some reason, the nerves make him let go of your hand. It’s not that he doesn’t want to go, he’s dying to have a little getaway with you, and get to know you even more. Matt is just… really happy you asked.

"I leave tomorrow, and it’s last minute, but I’d really love for you to be there with me. You’ll get to meet my family, if that’s not scary,” you ramble on. The rush inside you can’t be stopped: the thought of having Matt all to yourself for a few days sounded magical. “And my family isn’t big, if big families intimidate you. It’s just my folks and I.”

“Big families?” Matt laughs, “I’ve been to Foggy’s for the holidays for a while now, and I’m still sure there’s a distant cousin I haven’t met before. I think I’m ready with just having to introduce myself only twice now.”

“Okay!” You turn to face him, this time taking his hand back in yours. “I’ll text my Mom now to let her know we’ll need another plate at the table. You can stay in our guest room. Or mine, and I’ll take the guest room. Whichever you’re most comfortable with.”

Matt could hear the excitement in your voice. “We can figure that out later,” he says. “We can share, you know,” Matt reminds you in a low whisper.

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks. You let out a soft laugh and gently push him in a joking way, “no way am I getting in bed with you, Mr. Murdock. I am too much of a blanket hog. You’ll be cold the entire weekend.”

Matt lets out a laugh. He pulls you in close and kisses your ear.

“We’ll see about that.”

The shivers his kiss sent down your spine are hard to hide. You don’t care. You sigh and rest your head on his shoulder.

Matt quietly says your name.

Tilting your head to look up at him, and you reply, “yes?”

His auburn hair that usually falls perfectly in place now fell so it was covering half his face. You reach up to move it aside but his fingers latch to your wrist and slowly bring your hand back down to his lap.

Matt doesn’t have to see you to know you’re confused by his movements. That’s all he can really do, to show his feelings to you. He can’t possibly find the right words to describe how much he likes you–words fail him in that sense. He has so much to say to you, there’s so much that he feels. All he can do is hold your hand tighter and kiss your forehead.

“I like this a lot,” is all he can say. Foolish, he feels. The most beautiful girl you’ve ever talked to, the most sincere heart you’ve ever known is sitting right next to you, and that’s all you have to say?

You let out a soft laugh, “I’m glad, Matt. I was hoping you’d be staying a while.”

He knows what you mean by that. Not just staying a while in this dorm with you but staying a while in your life. Matt smiles.

“How are your classes, by the way? Are you feeling as overwhelmed with work as I?” He asks.

You shift, lifting your head from his shoulder.

“Yeah, a little,” you trail off, “I kind of jump at the work when it’s presented to me so I don’t get overwhelmed. And the faster I finish the bullshit busy work, the faster I can continue my investigating on that robbery.”

That robbery. The word takes him out of reality for a moment. Matt hasn’t roamed the streets since you both made up. He made a promise to himself to not let himself get distracted so he can put more time and energy into you, and he has. But hearing you bring up the robbery again stirs something inside of him: anxiety.

“Oh, really?” Matt asks, covering the worry in his tone. “Are there any…updates on that?”

“Any leads you mean?” You correct in jest. “Well, after break I’m going to the woman’s house for an interview. Her name is Camila Fredrick. I’ve already set up dates and everything. She’s more comfortable meeting after the holiday, which I totally understand. I’m just happy she agreed to speak with me. ‘You must be more pleasant than the real media’ she said in the email back,” you laugh, “I guess the title Undergrad comes off nicer.”

Matt forces himself to laugh at your jokes. He can’t stop his heart from beating so fast. Sure, you’d be meeting with the woman, Camila, in her own home, but how do you know you’d be safe from someone who could potentially be stalking her?

“Well, that’s lucky, I guess,” Matt replies.

“Yeah. She’s lucky for surviving, too. And I think she’s safe from the shooter… he’s in jail. His bail is like, almost $10,000, so I don’t think he’ll be getting out anytime soon.”

The last few words made Matt calm down just a little more. Still, what you didn’t know (that Matt does know) is that Neil isn’t the only player in this game.

“Whatever you do, wherever you go, ___, just be careful,” Matt tells you in a hushed voice. “This city is great, but it’s ugly.”

“I know, Matty,” the nickname slipped from your lips. Matt doesn’t seem to mind it. “I’m a tough girl, ya know?”

He smiles, “you are.”

For a moment, a fleeting moment, his mind plays an awful, cruel, trick on him and replaces Camila with you. The amount of rage that fills his blood, God forbid you were ever put in such danger… he wouldn’t be able to control himself. He wouldn’t wait for the law to bring justice. He’d serve it for you, even if that meant getting his hands bloody and bruised again.

The record has stopped playing. You glance at the clock. It’s not late yet, but you do feel sleepy. You sigh and stretch. If you and Matt were going to be going to your home in New Jersey, you’d better get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow is a day of packing, and then leaving the next day.

Matt says he’ll meet you in the morning for coffee and then he joked that you may need to help him pack his suitcase tomorrow. Joke or not, you’d be there in a heartbeat. You looked forward to spending the next few days with Matt.

He kisses you goodnight. The sound of his cane echoing down the hall almost puts you to sleep.

#matt murdock #daredevil #college matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #marvel fanfic #daredevil fanfic #matt murdock fanfic #charlie cox #charlie cox x reader #daredevil imagine #daredevil fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #the defenders #foggy nelson #marci stahl #library series

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cherrywoes · 3 years

Text

004 | CONTROL

a/n: these next couple of chapters for control will be shorter as i don’t want to cram everything into one single chapter. they’ll be 004, 005, 006, and 007 respectively.

YOU SHOULD HAVE guessed that, whatever crowds Akaashi was involved in, it wasn’t somewhere you should be going. While Akaashi was a famous designer, he also had a life that you knew nothing about—a life that his assistants whispered about under their breath where they thought you couldn’t hear. Akaashi had always been adamant that you never step foot in the life that he’d created for himself, ever wanting you to be the innocent bystander if things went wrong; and, well, you’d always been about subverting expectations, but not like this.

Ayano pulled out a black, slinky dress from some designer brand you couldn’t see on the label, clicked her tongue, then put it back and began going through your extensive collection of cocktail dresses when the bodycon section didn’t produce fruit for you. You sat watching her from your faux leather and fur divan, holding a bottle of Screaming Eagle Sauvignon Blanc. The wine had been a gift from one of your more important backers and you needed it for the night you were about to have, if you didn’t blackout from panic first.

“Will you chill out?” Ayano sighed, dropping the expensive Yves Saint Laurent in exasperation. She was already dressed and ready to go in a black dress that had enormous slits to show off her legs and her dark hair had been curled to perfection. She looked more the model than you did right now. “It’s just a meeting, no different from any other one you’ve been to.”

You glowered at her and lowered the wine bottle from your mouth. “It’s a meeting with the Yakuza, Ayano. The Yakuza.”

And there lie the entire reason you didn’t want to go at all. If it had been literally any other person than Akaashi asking, you wouldn’t even be sitting waiting for Ayano to pull together an outfit for you. You wanted nothing to do with organized crime syndicates; one meeting with the Triad was enough for you, throwing the Yakuza in the mix was drawing a line in the sand.

“So?” Ayano shrugged and walked over to snatch the wine bottle out of your hands. You pouted at her and crossed your arms like a petulant child. “Look, it’s just one night and there’s no one you know there except for me and Akaashi. We’re going to be his arm candy for a few hours and then leave before the deals start going down. That’s it.”

You grumbled in reply and stalked off to the bathroom to brush the wine stains from your teeth. Hopefully before the night was over you could go home, get embarrassingly drunk by yourself and eventually crash in the tub like you always did. You didn’t deal with stressful situations like this very well at all, especially ones involving people who could kill you and most assuredly get away with it.

When you returned, Ayano had picked out a dress and laid it on the bed and was now destroying your shoe closet for the perfect pair to go with it. It was one you’d never worn, somehow, a plain black silk piece that had a gaping neckline and slashed hems at the side. It was actually one of Akaashi’s first pieces, you remembered, and he’d gifted you the prototype as a congratulations gift when he wasn’t all that big but you’d modeled for him anyways. That was over two years ago now, and you wondered if you could still fit in it.

You slipped it on and, other than finding the waist a little too hugging, it fit like it did the day you had gotten it. You began pinning your hair up to keep it up and out of the way, since you didn’t feel like doing anything to it to make it particularly high fashion, and Ayano returned with her spoils: an unbroken pair of Christian Louboutins that were going to kill your ankles before the night was over.

Right as you were going to slip them on, a Facetime call popped up on your phone. The only one who would call you around five in the afternoon on a weekday was Kuroo, so you answered it and stepped into the heels while you did.

“Whoa, [Name], I didn’t think I’d get a screen full of cleavage!” Oikawa shrieked, his voice throwing you for a loop. You picked up the phone and glared down at the screen depicting the pretty faced male, eyebrows rising in disbelief when you spotted the background of an airport behind him—the Tokyo airport, specifically. “That’s better, I love seeing your angry face so late at night.”

“What the hell, Oikawa?” You rubbed your face, sighing exasperatedly. “You go almost a month without contact and now you’re making Facetime calls?”

“Hey, I couldn’t help it!” He gasped, affronted. “But if you must know, I was doing some important business transactions that couldn’t wait.”

“In Argentina?”

“How’d you know about—” You watched a thundercloud roll over his face as he stared at something out of frame and over the phone. He looked pissed and you had to wonder what he was looking at in an airport of all things. “[Name]?”

“What?”

“Why is your face plastered all over this airport with Ushijima Wakatoshi?”

“When you flaked, they called him in last minute,” you explained, reaching for your makeup and ignoring the way a red flush was creeping up his face. “If you must know, he came last minute and we were just going to scrap the shoot before he did. Why does it matter?”

“He’s my mortal nemesis!” He was shouting now, mostly in disbelief, and was now rushing down the airport to the front doors, completely ignoring the gaggle of fangirls cheering for his arrival. “I can’t believe you, [Name]!”

“I thought your nemesis was Ushi...waka.” You finished lamely, realizing it was actually two names put together in a stupid nickname and not a bizarre name that made its way out of the woordwork. “Oh well, it isn’t like you don’t deserve it. You flaked, not me.”

You spent a few more minutes arguing with him until he said he was going to eat and that he would call you later to ask you more about how Ushijima was at the shoot. You’d rolled your eyes and agreed, hanging up and finishing putting earrings in your ears. You looked simple and classy, which was apparently the look Ayano wanted to go for—not too flashy, not too eye catching.

“Well,” you sighed, turning to Ayano who already had your bag in one hand and a fur shawl in another. “Let’s get this party going, shall we?”

MASTERLIST.

< PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER >

taglist: @toaster-stick @katemocha @momowhoo

#ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima x reader #wakatoshi x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyū!!

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

Text

handmaid - 23

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N: i wrote half this chapter listening to taylor swift’s enchanted which i dubbed a christmas song despite it not being a christmas song. i hope you enjoy xx

NEXT CHAPTER

The music was loud, too loud and Y/N could barely hear herself thinking. Between people congratulating Gwen and the overwhelming loud popular music, all Y/N wanted was to spend her birthday locked in her own bedroom reading Jane Austen but whenever she managed to dodge someone, a drunk associate would pat her on the back also congratulating her for her birthday. Darned drunk Daniel and his ‘it’s her birthday too’ sentence. Out of all 365 days in the year, she just had to be born on the same day as the heiress which she initially thought would make her invisible but suddenly everyone wanted to congratulate her too.

Dodging another one of her friend’s father’s drunk associates ready with a hiccupped speech, Y/N quickly climbed up the stairs, happily sighing when she finally got to some sense of quietness where she could read. Opening the red leathered book, Y/N let herself delve into the world of Jane Austen and the swooning love scenarios that came along with it.

With her nose stuck in the book, she started to pave around the floor, dancing around as she imagined the beautiful dance scenes in English regency balls. She could only imagine dancing with your loved one, with the shyness of the sun laying over winter snow, wandering eyes and slow, soft and comfortable dancing. She continued on her mindless dancing which was interrupted by her hitting something.

- Oop ... - Y/N looked up from a book into a pair of the most beautiful light blue eyes she had ever seen in her whole entire life. - I’m so sorry.

- No, I wasn’t watching where I was going. My fault entirely.

- No, I wasn’t paying attention.

- What are you reading there? - he pointed at her book which she had closed over her finger as to not to lose the place of reading. - Jane Austen? A favourite?

- I prefer Emma but Pride and Prejudice is a classic. Are you a fan?

- I’m more of a Charlotte Brontë kind of guy myself. - he gave her that sort of smile that only old Hollywood stars could pull off. The type of smile morphing into a smirk that pulled you in with its sense of effortless coolness and mystique. A dangerous smile if she knew better. - That is if we’re speaking of English writers. My father has a very long personal collection.

- Well, the Forrests aren’t the reading type from what I’ve gathered.

- Say, I’ve never seen you around before. Whose family do you belong to?

- Oh, I ...

- There you are. - a much older man, probably in his early 60s but very dapperly dressed with his hair pushed back and the same blue eyes the unknown man standing in front of her. She guessed they were somehow related by their matching features. - I thought we had discussed being late to meetings before.

- I got distracted, father. - the much younger man shrugged. Y/N stood there, playing with her fingers, fully aware that the atmosphere had shifted into something more awkward than what she preferred. It became even more uncomfortable once the much older man made eye contact with her, making her feel much more smaller than before, head snapping back to her feet. - You sure have a particularly familiar set of eyes there. Have we met before?

- No, I don’t think so. - she played with the ends of her hair, hoping the Earth would open and swallow her.

- What family do you belong to? I’m sure I’ve seen those eyes before.

- BIRDIE! - Y/N turned around to see Dan power walking towards her. - Gwen is waiting for you to cut the cake. Say goodbye, c’mon.

Y/N just stood there, not entirely sure of what to reply to Mr. Williams’ remarks about her. She wasn’t a mistress and she surely wasn’t aiming to be one on the women she had grown accustomed to see coming in and out of the house during her childhood. Sure, she was having some sort of ... affair, if it could be called that, with Sebastian but she wasn’t his mistress. No, she would never be his mistress for that to happen he would have to want to be with her and following last events, he really wasn’t. Besides, she wasn’t like him and she would never be like him.

- I understand your struggle, miss. It must be really hard to see the man you care for not care for you.

- With all due respect, Mr. Williams, I really don’t enjoy your assumptions about me or Mr. Stan. It’s incredibly disrespectful.

- He’s not gonna call you, birdie. I see you checking your phone but trust me. He might not be like his father where it matters but when it comes to women, they’re the same man.

- Don’t call me birdie. - she mumbled, the affectionate nickname given to her by Dan when she was younger losing its innocence as it came out of the associate’s mouth. - I really would like it if you left.

- Don’t be so upset. In this world you have to play dirty to get ahead and you’re surely get to get dirty to get ahead ... You’ll surely have enough money to do whatever you want if you keep going.

- I don’t want any money but I don’t wanna be part of this conversation. - she cleaned her hands against her apron, walking off the kitchen with a decisive step. Ignoring most questioning looks from those at the table, she climbed the stairs back to her bedroom, locking the door behind her.

She was no mistress and she definitely did not want Sebastian’s money and the mere speculation that that was all she cared about made her sick to her stomach. If she were to care about money she would’ve gotten it very much early on. With sadness and heaviness in her heart accompanied by shame of being seen as nothing more than a passing fancy, Y/N sat down against her bed frame, hand moving to grab one of her bedside table books.

Out of all the books she blindly had to pick, out of all novels she had spent her teenage and early adulthood reading, the one she had picked was a particularly old one with a red leather binding and golden title letters. Her fingers softly moved across the cover, feeling the bumps and tears of time over the leather. It used to be her favourite during her early young adulthood years and Y/N was sure she had read it over a thousand times. As she opened the book, it fell onto a slightly crinkly page. She furrowed her brows, not remembering when she had crinkled the page until a polaroid fell onto her legs, photo front down.

Curiously, Y/N closed her book, setting it next to her in the bed before grabbing the polaroid on her legs. She swiftly turned it around, noticing her handwriting on the border ‘18th’. She smiled nostalgically noticing her young face in the sea of people, wearing an oversized babydoll dress which most likely belonged to Gwen, Mary Jane style shoes with the very same necklace nestled between her collarbones and a polite smile. However, what called up for Y/N’s attention was right in the middle of the photo, standing next to Mr. Forrest, was a man probably in his mid to late 20s wearing a dark burgundy suit which made her blink twice, making her pull the photo closer for inspection. His hair was a bit longer and shaggier and his face a bit fuller due to younger age but she could recognise those eyes everywhere. Dan was right, Sebastian had been at Gwen’s 18th and for all that was safe and holy she just couldn’t remember it.

Looking around as if she were afraid of being caught, she jumped off her bed, grabbing her book to stick the polaroid back inside and both of the objects inside one of her suitcase’s pockets, covering by various fabric items. Something told her that she had to question him about that particular event whenever she got the chance. Afterwards, she took her phone from her pocket to check if he had maybe tried to call her back or message her but nothing, only the clock and her lock screen. Two minutes past midnight, Christmas day. It was Christmas and that gave Y/N the excuse to give him another call. As expected by the darkest most negative part of her brain, all she heard was “The number you have dialled is unavailable, leave your message at the end of the tone”.

- Hey Sebastian, it’s Y/N ... you probably know, you have called ID ... - she was rambling and could hear her heart thumping on her throat as if they’d never spoken before. - I just wanted to say ... Merry Christmas.

- Hey Birdie. - Dan opened the door of her bedroom, making her drop her phone onto the floor by surprise. He furrowed his eyebrows at that behaviour. Y/N certainly didn’t use to be this easy to fright. - We’re opening presents, c’mon.

- Yeah, I’m going. - she forced a smile, grabbing her phone to finish the call before following him down the stairs.

Thirty minutes away from the place was she was spending Christmas, back in the Upper East Side, Sebastian was standing inside his office, brandy filled glass as he watched the sights from the large windows and how the snow fell disregarding and uncaring of any other circumstances.

He was much too lost watching various people come out of their houses to celebrate the snow, lost in his own thoughts until the beep of his answering machine removed him from his mind. He shot a look towards the rather old school device as a very familiar voice came through “Hey Sebastian, it’s Y/N ... you probably know, you have called ID ... I just wanted to say ... Merry Christmas.” He placed the glass on this desk, getting closer to the device, finger pressing the rewind button causing the melodic voice to return which wishes of happy holidays. The mob boss smiled at her rambling, how she would go on and on before stopping herself and how sweet she sounded at the end.

- Sir ... - a light knock on his door following by the creaking of the door made him remove his finger from the rewind button. - I’m leaving for tonight. Is there anything you require?

- No Amelia, thank you.

Back at the Forrests, Y/N was cuddled and wrapped with a red blanket, a cup of peppermint tea in hand as she watched Gwen open the large majority of the presents with a child-like enthusiasm along with Dan’s daughter Sophie. With a very soft and absent minded smile, she couldn’t help but get lost in her own fantasies as she watched Sophie’s eyes light up as she showed her father the stuffed bunny she had just unwrapped. All she could see was the Christmas tree back in the penthouse surrounded with various presents wrapped in shades of red and gold as a child showed Sebastian their own presents. Yet, she knew it was only in her mind and that she probably would see that but the child would be Gwen’s.

- Now it’s Y/N’s turn. - Mr. Forrest handed her a card sized present. - Merry Christmas, Y/N.

- Thank you. - she placed her tea cup on the table, carefully opening the present which led to another little box. Removing the lid, it showed a golden key with a matching gold bird keychain all surrounded by white cushioned fabric. - Oh ... thank you. Is it a necklace?

- No. - Dan chuckled. - It’s a house key.

- But I already have the key to this house.

- Well, dad and I have been discussing it and after Mr. Stan and Gwen get married, we thought you might want to start your own life. - Dan had that grin that seemed to appear whenever he was truly proud of himself. - So, we got you an apartment in Paris, like you always wanted. View to the Tower Eiffel and all.

- Oh ... - once again Y/N questioned her full on lack of happiness. She had a place to start her life where she always wanted, she had a house, one she didn’t have to pay for. Forcing a smile, she nodded her head. - Thank you so much, Dan, it’s lovely.

- I can help you make your arrangements after the wedding. - he added and started to ramble on how he knew a great interior designer while Gwen kept questioning her father how come she didn’t have an apartment in France, probably forgetting she had an apartment on almost every single European capital including London, Madrid and so on. She nodded, not really listening to his rambling until her phone vibrated on her jeans’ pocket. Looking down, she noticed a text from her phone company warning her that she had a message in her voicemail box.

- Can you excuse me? - she asked the people surrounding the living room, getting up from her comfortable position. All but one, Mr. Williams, nodded. He instead watched her with hawk like eyes as she removed herself from the living room and paced onto the kitchen, closing the door behind her.

She could feel her body shake, her breathing getting irregular as she dialled the number that led to her voicemail messages. As quick as a second, the voicemail started to play but instead of listening to anyone speaking all she could hear was low breathing mixed with the non existent sound of silence. Her heart sank, this was probably a butt dial. As she was about to turn off her phone a familiar roughed yet laced with sweetness and nervousness came from the speaker.

- Merry Christmas, my angel.

tag list: @lilya-petrichor @xoxohannahlee @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater @nikkipea @madisonpillstrom @cevans98 @thelostallycat @sideeffectsofyou @anxiousdreamersworld @captainchrisstan @lookiamtrying @sarge-barnes-sir @stuffforreferences @thebadassbitchqueen @sebastianstansqueen @nsfwsebbie

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan/y/n #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan drabble #sebastian stan imagine #mob!sebastian stan #mobster!sebastian stan #mafia boss!sebastian stan #mob boss!sebastian stan

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braindeacl · 3 years

Text

Into the Thick of It (Ugh) | Eilidh & Nicole

SETTING: White Crest National Park. TIMING: Recent. Late at night. PARTIES: @nicsalazar & @braindeacl SUMMARY: Eilidh and Nicole go on a search to find Bigfoot. They run into his weird cousin. WARNINGS: N/A

With the light of the moon to guide her way, Eilidh trekked further and further within the wood. The cosmic luminescence looked gently down upon her, but with each step, it grew weaker and weaker. Trees blended with the sky until nothing separated the two. Before the darkness could fully engulf her, claim her in its wide embrace, she stopped. And waited. The only indication she was there was her flashlight—a beacon.

Typically, Eilidh wasn’t one for the night shift. Personally, she’d rather be snuggling with Tulip. Especially for something so trivial. What was this, the fourth case of boy-who-cried-bigfoot? What first caused excitement and wonder, now caused a scoff. Not that she was a skeptic. Anything was possible, and Bigfoot was not beyond the limits of her imaginations. But, with that fear locked into everyone’s mind, anything lurking in the corner of your eye could be a ‘monster’. So it very well could be a bear. The past three times it was a bear or something else of the sort. But there had been multiple sightings of this specific ‘Bigfoot.’ A part of her dared to hope that finally, finally she’d be able to see it. Regardless of its name, it had been seen earlier heading the very same direction Eilidh stood now. It was her job to help investigate the whatever-it-was, give it a name and show what it truly was—just another creature, supernatural or not. Or, at the very least, make sure whatever-it-was wasn’t causing any harm to the local flora and fauna. As of yet, she hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary. Especially by White Crest’s low standards.

The sudden return of light caught her eye, and she directed her own at the source. “Hey, Nic!” Eilidh offered a brief wave. “Would’ve waited for you further back. But got bored.” With her flashlight, she motioned forward. Enveloped in illumination, the forest was almost inviting. “Let’s go check on this B-b-b-biiigfoot.”

Nicole thought going back to work would fix most of her problems. Less time sitting at home with nothing to do, meant less time to deal with the demons in her head. So work? A pretty fucking good distraction— in theory. But in reality, it didn’t turn out that way. She was doing terribly at her job too. But she was still adjusting, right? She was still adjusting, she kept telling herself, despite being back for weeks now. It didn’t help that the Park was nothing but chaos after the news of a Bigfoot sighting broke out. The same reports that happened every couple of months or so, Nicole had learned after the first few the dozens of briefings she had attended over the years. Yet the bastard was never found. And they were left to deal with the chaos that was dealing with the increase in visitors flocking to the park in hopes of catching the monster with their cameras, putting themselves in danger in the process.

Apparently the Park wanted a more hands on approach this time, and Nicole ended up getting roped into the investigation the foresters were supposed to do. Her first field activity since coming back to work. The night shift was always dangerous, but never as terrifying as the office hours, so to walk around the woods searching for a non-existent beast looked like a fine alternative. Finally being back on the trails would be a good thing.

Nicole ventured deep into the forest, swaying her flashlight lazily. She had no use for it when she had other senses to pick up on anything strange. And soon enough, she found her companion for the night. She liked Eilidh, even if her very tense demeanor didn’t read that way. “Hey…” her lips pressed into a thin smile, unsure how to feel about the nickname. But that ship sailed the first time they met. “Right” she nodded, following the woman a few steps behind. “You know...this is the first time they’ve wanted us to see what the fuck is out there. I’m not sure if that’s— you haven’t heard any rumors...right?”

Eilidh quirked an eyebrow. “Rumors?” The location this supposed creature kept frequenting was a bit concerning, or a bit intriguing, depending on your mindset. It was in one of the many parts of the forest that seemed to attract supernatural creatures like flies to a corpse. And it was peculiar its classification had yet to be determined. The Park was typically so quick, so determined, so desperate to uncover the source of odd activities. Activities they would only be publicly hinted at—only enough to maintain safety. So, talk of the truth was discouraged. Having too many noses sticking themselves into where they didn’t belong always led to issues. Curiosity may kill the cat. Or exposure of the supernatural community, and with the popularity that Bigfoot carried, such publicity would be far and wide and deadly. Either way, death could be found at the conclusion.

Despite the concerns, tales still circulated around the town, as they always did. She couldn’t help a chuckle as she recalled one. “Aye. Supposedly some guy saw this ‘Bigfoot’ digging up flowers near here. Maybe he fucked up. Needs a bouquet for Mrs. Bigfoot.” The scenario played in the back of her mind, and that chuckle twinkled again in the back of her throat. Without breaking her stride, she fished out a handful of wildflowers from her backpack. “So, I brought this as a peace offering.” There was a pause, and it was here that her stride did falter for a moment, as she replayed the conversation in her head. “Or, wait. You mean this place?” The two found themselves heading into a part of the Park shrouded in mystery, especially to regular citizens. And mystery always gave birth to hearsay.

Nicole already assumed that anyone who worked at the National Park knew about the supernatural. One way or the other. It was just the way the job went. Every now and then, weird shit was bound to happen. People died. Rangers died. So she didn’t second guess herself, the usual apprehension gone from her voice as she caught up to Eilidh. “Rumors...” she repeated, redirecting her flashlight to the ground. Wasn’t Bigfoot supposed to leave giant footprints? “Before— the last couple of times this happened… I don’t know if you—” she trailed off. The other woman was newer at the job, she couldn’t recall if she had dealt with it before. “The park used to ignore the whole Bigfoot shit”. Their plan always entailed warning people about bears to keep them away. And add more patrolling, so much more patrolling. It hadn’t been exactly successful. So she couldn’t fault the Park for wanting to try a new approach. “So I was thinking— I don’t know, maybe... they really do think there's a monster out there this time. And it’s not just… a wild animal”.

Nicole couldn’t remember being so deep into that side of the park before. Perks of the job. She was never done discovering things. Her partner's joke felt out of place, considering the danger they could be dealing with, but somehow it managed to ease the tension she had been carrying for most of the day. She made sure to keep her chuckle quiet enough. It was a good thing that Eilidh seemed in good spirits at least. It would make the night shift more bearable. “And we’re about to walk into them having a fight? Ah shit... it’s not too late to go back” she mumbled, eyes darting quickly around the dark. She had to keep her senses open if she wanted them to stay safe. She was ready to run at the first sign of the beast. No more playing hero for her. A branch snapped at the distance, and Nicole tensed immediately. “Heard something move” she held her arm up to stop Eilidh. “I think…” she added, because fuck, she couldn’t be sure of anything in her life anymore. She nudged the flashlight in the direction of the sound, but took no steps. “Probably just an animal, but...” she hated that she couldn’t go ahead and investigate. She was scared of many things, but it had never interfered with her job before.

Monster. Unless she meant some great evil decided to spend its free time spooking and inconveniencing tourists, Eilidh assumed what Nicole meant was something supernatural. Eilidh hated when it was used that way. To describe a creature beyond normal human comprehension; to look at a living being’s nature and condone it for something it couldn’t control. “It wouldn’t be a monster.” Her voice was suddenly curt. “Just another animal. Supernatural or not.” Hopefully, whatever it may be, it was something they could handle.

Eilidh perked at the continuation of her quip. It was still exciting when Nicole decided to play along, indulge her, so she wouldn’t waste this moment. “If we don’t help, how will they save their marriage?” But as Nicole’s hand rose, her brief return to good humor was cut short. She stopped, perplexed. Her head began to swivel, trying to pick up anything on her end, but her ears only perceived the typical ebb and flow of a forest at rest. Even when the direction was pointed out to her, nothing new became apparent. So, she sought help from her secret friend. With the slightest of motions, she jerked her chin forward—a signal, a command. After a tense moment, answers were brought, but they weren’t very enlightening. It was very dark, after all, and James had trouble seeing much of anything. But he still could hear. Eyes locked on the invisible figure, Eilidh’s expression became even more confused as he laid out what he heard. “Oom oom?” She mouthed.

Ooooooom ooooooom answered. Within seconds, some of the distant trees illuminated by Nicole’s light began to shake, overwhelmed with a sudden weight. Eilidh looked up. Something looked back.

“Yeah, you don’t know that…” Nicole mumbled to herself, aware of how unconvincing she sounded. Maybe Eilidh did have more knowledge, but she didn’t want to have the monster argument with anyone else. She couldn’t see herself changing her opinion on that. “Just hope you’re right” she let out a weary sigh, knowing hope hadn’t been on her side lately. “I don’t think they’re paying us enough for that” a laugh caught in her throat. The atmosphere changed so quickly between them that she had no time to wipe the grin off her face. “Shit...shit” The forest floor shook under them, and the rustling of the trees was followed by an ominous— Voice? Nicole wasn’t sure. A few months ago, the noise wouldn’t have stopped her. The noise would’ve been an invitation to go on and get more answers. Meet the mysterious creature in the heart of the woods. God she used to be stupid. The realization wasn’t new, but it was good to add more proof to it.

“Back up” Nicole tried to grab Eilidh’s shirt, but she was out of her reach. “Hey!” she called again, the ground shaking made it hard to keep her balance. She lowered her flashlight. She could make out the tall shadow — much taller than both of them— pacing between trees. The thought of switching to her night vision briefly crossed her mind. No, no. There was no point in doing that. She’d draw more attention glowing in the dark. The creature, monster...whatever it was continued to approach, coming to a sudden stop right when Nicole was ready to pick up Eilidh and bolt. “Whatever that is— we should fuck off” words spilled out of her mouth with urgency. Fuck that. She had learned her lesson. But the giant figure didn’t seem interested in them, instead lowered its body to the ground and poked with a giant hand something she couldn’t make out. Her nostrils flared, hoping a scent would clue her in. It was something familiar. Something she had been close to recently. Something she could smell on her partner’s clothes sometimes. “Eilidh” she whispered, and for once she didn’t think about how uncomfortable it was to call someone by their first name. Shivers ran down her spine when she finally processed the smell. “Uh, do we— you know of any missing people reports around the area?”

Like the first sight of the sun after a storm, the scent overcame Eilidh—blinding. Flesh spiced with death. Oozing sweet liquids she wished to lick. Her teeth gave an involuntary chatter before it was cut short as she dug her nails into her hands, threatening to puncture. If Nicole weren’t around, she’d be tempted to play tug-of-war with the meal, test this creature’s might. Or perhaps even share. She only really wanted one part, anyhow. But eating a corpse in front of a coworker would doubtfully result in anything positive. Damn. Instincts were gripped tight and dampened—the action made part of her feel hollow. Doubt that’s the infamous Bigfoot. She couldn’t recall ‘eating hikers’ being mentioned in that Bigfoot conspiracy documentary James made her watch. Double damn. But, this was still turning into a fascinating mystery, because the question still remained: what the fuck was that? Captivated by the mystique of the unknown, eyes wide in wonder, she almost was left unaware of her companion’s high nerves. The use of her first name brought her back. Momentarily she felt exposed, anger arriving as a defense. But distraction soon came. Missing people. Right. Where did the body come from? It seemed like this creature was scavenging, not hunting. Where was the hunter? “Nothing specific,” she lied, though she truthfully had no idea who the corpse once was, “but people disappear all the time. There’s plenty options.”

Eilidh wanted, needed, to get a closer look. At least a small peek. What was the cause of death? Could this be chalked up to a creature or being that couldn’t finish a meal. A freak accident. Or something unneeded, something out of passion rather than survival. Something human. Ignoring Nicole’s signals to retreat, she took a step forward. Craning her neck, trying to see the body without notice. As the creature whipped its head back, it was evident she failed. She froze. It simply flared its nostrils in response: a sniff. Then, it stood. She bared her teeth, a hiss whistled passed her exposed canines. It sniffed again. Disregarding its previous engagement, the creature inched closer. It was only then she began to back up, to the best of her ability as the ground shivered below her under its might. Despite that, she remained focused on the creature. Her hand quickly moved to the dagger hidden under her skirt. Though unsheathed, she kept the weapon close to her hip. She did not want a fight.

Nicole let out a grumble in agreement. People disappeared all the time. There was a reason everyone signed the waiver at the entrance. The bodies they were able to find were the lucky ones. “Right,” like the one in front of them, about to become food for a mysterious creature. Yeah, so fucking lucky. They remained quiet, watching the beast poke the body. Maybe it wasn’t that good of a meal. She swallowed, considering the very real possibility that maybe, it prefered fresher food. She reached for Eilidh's arm again, not taking her eyes off the danger. Only then she noticed her partner had gone and moved closer. Her hands balled into fists, resisting the urge to yell at her. She hated the small part of her that couldn’t blame the woman for her curiosity. Not long ago, she would’ve loved to be close to what was one of the biggest mysteries in the world. If it was Bigfoot at all. But she wasn’t sure how willing she was to risk her life at the park after everything she had gone through.

The thought of not fitting the job she loved so much anymore wasn’t something Nicole wanted to deal with yet. She couldn't consider it. She gripped the flashlight tighter, forcing herself to step forward to meet Eilidh.

The creature picked up on their presence, but it wasn’t until Nicole heard Eilidh’s hissing that she dared to say anything. And— she really had to wonder if she heard that right. “Are you... out of your fucking mind?” she scoffed, eyes wide as she looked between the monster and the woman. “Macleod” she called, her voice colder. She was addressing a coworker, not the person who made her feel more comfortable than anyone at the Park. The beast examined them for a moment. Or rather, it examined Eilidh. It was as if Nicole didn’t exist. She held her breath until the beast lost interest and started munching on the dead body’s...hair? It was a nasty sight.

She couldn’t be the person who stood behind and let other people take the lead anymore. Nicole grabbed Eilidh’s cold hand, giving it a forceful pull.”That’s it, we came— we saw — we can go back a-and warn everybody else. Let’s just get the fuck away. Or— or we’re gonna be the fucking main course!”. Her sudden movement alerted the creature once again. It discarded the rest of the body, eyes glowing with new interest at the sight of Eilidh. That was it, they were about to be eaten. It was safe to say she didn’t think what she did next. Blurting out a quick apology, she swiftly wrapped her arm around Eilidh’s mid section and lifted her off the ground. The flashlight shaking in her hand pointed everywhere but ahead, but Nicole knew to just get one step in front of the other as fast as possible.

Glowing eyes locked onto ones of the dead. Eilidh met that gaze in full, unbreaking—I’m a threat, leave me alone. Perhaps taking the hint or perhaps finding the action as a bluff, the creature returned to its half-finished meal. But instead of flesh, hair was the food of choice. Interesting. The large and impressive figure, the hair covering every inch, the selective diet. Why did this feel familiar? While the reciprocity was lost, she continued to stare, to watch. A thought started to form, a forgotten memory. Wiggling its way to the surface.

A grasping hand broke the recollection, slamming her back into reality, as the memory returned to the back of her mind. The sudden change left her momentarily disoriented; she moved to slap the offending hand on instinct. But a familiar voice came to her ears. Worry was clear in Nicole’s words, and for a moment a small pang of guilt rested in Eilidh’s chest for keeping her in this situation. Guilt quickly boiled into anger as her world turned topsy-turvy, body hoisted—unwillingly—onto Nicole’s shoulder. “Hey!” But the heated yell was cut short by the sight before her. The creature had entirely disregarded the body, choosing to pursue them instead. Usually if an animal discarded a meal, it was due to surrounding dangers, realization of spoiled parts, or a tastier option presented itself. The way the creature stared, as if trying to find her soul and judging her acceptable, at her and only her—it looked to be the third option. Sensation prickled down her spine. Maybe it was fear. But it was mostly excitement.

Feet crashed down onto the helpless ground. Hands reached out for her. Almost touching the strands of hair that whisked into view by the moving air. Before it could grab hold, the knife that still sat gripped in her hand struck out, hitting the creature on the palm. “No.” It let out a bellow. The other enlarged hand shot out, quicker this time. Tension riddling the fingers, whether preparing for an attack or preparing to attack. But instead of striking again, Eilidh slashed at her own hair. A few pieces detached, floated in the hair for just a moment. Until they were swallowed whole. Momentarily stalled by the action, the two were able to gain some distance from the pursuing animal. But the moment passed, and it snapped its attention back to her. In turn, she craned her neck back to look at Nicole. “‘Preciate the help but let me down.” There was no reason to drag Nicole into this. So, she started to wiggle out of the grip, but found the hold stronger than anticipated. Huh? Another attempt was made; more force was applied, but not much changed. A growl escaped her: a pinned animal. Kicking and scratching wasn’t off the table.

The monster decided to follow them. Of course it did. Why would anything be easy when it could be a shitshow? Navigating an unknown part of the woods was never simple, even for Nicole who always seemed to find her way around the trickiest of forests. Doing so while giant feet made the floor shake underneath them sure added difficulty to the experience. “Stop! Moving!” Carrying Eilidh on her shoulder while she tried to fight the beast? really pushing it. And— why was she trying to fight the creature? Nicole didn’t know. Being stupidly reckless had to be a requirement for the job. The monster was hot on their tails, and judging by Eilidh’s roar it had managed to touch her. Why was it obsessed with her? She just squeezed the woman tightly and focused all her energy on not taking a false step, because it would be the end of them if she did. For some reason, the giant steps halted briefly and Nicole didn’t hesitate to twist between trees, making it harder for it to follow. Blood pounding in her ears, all she knew was that she had to keep going, until they reached ground even enough to run at full speed. Then she’d find the jeep she left at the entrance of the trail and they’d be safe.

Initially she didn’t hear Eilidh’s complaint, her attention narrowed to one particular goal: escaping. It was only when she to wiggle her way out of her grip that her focus shifted. She huffed. Fuck that, if she was gonna run back to fight the beast, she wasn’t letting her touch the ground again. But as Eilidh twisted with more persistence she relented, forgoing any gentleness before she put her back down. She gripped Eilidh by the shoulders, standing tall to shield her in case the beast pounced again. “What the fuck were you thinking?” she panted harshly, but worried eyes scanned the woman’s hair. What kind of beast had that fucked up diet? “We need to warn—” at the distance, it was hard to miss that the creature was on the move again. What were they going to do? Wait and attack now prepared with a plan, or retreat? Her mind was made up, she wanted to go, but she was not going to leave Eilidh behind. She had the means to outrun the beast again if it came down to it. She met the woman’s gaze, regretting the words already forming in her head. “Whatever it is that you’re— that’s already going through your fucking head... it’s gonna include me, no matter how insane. So... all I’m saying is— really think about it”.

Wish granted, Eilidh was plopped onto the ground. But before she could turn attentions back to the pursuing beast, hands were placed firmly upon her shoulders. Pinned again. But a growl did not escape like before. It was tempted to, as Nicole’s sharp words greeted her ears, making herself sharp, prickly as well. “How ‘bout you–” But when she looked up, saw the worry in Nicole’s eyes, she couldn’t fuel the irritation for much longer. She paused for a moment—not sure how to answer the question. She had just been… reacting. And it was no time to try and come up with any form of reason. Thud, thud, thud, the creature’s feet banged against the helpless floor, tremors underfoot growing stronger as it closed the distance. Thuds like the tick of a watch, each sound indicating their time was running out.

Legs itched to run, to act, to no longer be stuck waiting and pondering, but that hold on her shoulder still remained. But it no longer acted as an anchor; with Nicole’s words, it became a link, binding the two together. Acting on the first thought that moved to the forefront—since Nicole insisted on involving herself—she placed the blade back against her hair. It cut into her braid, severing the end from the rest. With the secured ribbon removed, her hair unfurled, wild and untamed against her neck, and several inches shorter than earlier that day. She handed the detached braid to Nicole. “I’ll go left. You go right. Lead the fucker so far into the woods no one will see ‘em again.” She smacked her lips. “Hopefully.” The creature was reaching out for her again, two meters away, then one, then none. Before it gained a hold of her, she leapt back. In its momentum it stumbled forward, trying to make that sharp corner but long limbs prevented such agility. Not waiting for it to regain its footing, she turned to run, back amongst trees. “Keep ‘em off me and I’ll keep ‘em off you!” Her yell bounced off the trees, the only reminder of her presence as she disappeared into the darkness.

Nicole was firm on her decision. She was not going to play hero again. She was not. She was n— except, even in the dim light she could tell that Eilidh was absolutely thinking about going back. Fuck. She flinched at her swift move, not expecting the woman to lift her blade again and slash her own hair. “Jesus, what—” she raised her hands to stop her, but she ended up grabbing her braid instead. Nicole stared at it with a blank expression, unsure on how to feel. Thanks? She didn’t have time to process any of it, because Eilidh was talking again, this time to explain her plan. “You—you want me to…” brows furrowed, she waited in silence for more details, until she realized there was nothing more to the plan. It was short and straightforward. Confuse the fuck out of the beast. She would be doing her job, really. Keeping visitors safe by running the creature off. She understood then, the meaning of Eilidh’s hair in her hand: the scent would attract the creature to her, while her partner did the same on the other side. It was smart enough. At least they wouldn’t be trying to fight against it.

She let out an exasperated sigh, realizing she was already convinced. There wasn’t certainty that the creature wouldn’t come back, lured by the scent of corpses, but if they could do their part to keep it as far away from the trails and the visitors’ cameras, it was worth a shot. The floor shook again and Nicole knew there was no time to discuss anything else. She watched Eilidh escape the creature’s grasp and take off in the opposite direction, following her part of the plan. All by herself, she wondered what was it about Eilidh's hair that made her so irresistible compared to her own. As they predicted, the giant monster went with its favorite. “Hey!” she called, lifting her hand and waving the braid. She took a few steps, preparing for a run, hoping it would be enough to get the beasts attention. Luckily for them, the creature stumbled and turned in her direction. Nicole had to keep the surprise to herself, jogging through the trees to keep the beast away from her colleague.

Darkness began to envelop them again, the trees shielding the moonlight as they entered unknown territory. Even when Nicole could hardly see anymore, Eilidh’s light steps were easy to pick up in comparison to the rumbling caused by the beast. They just had to keep going— for how long? she wasn’t sure.

The creature was in pursuit, mirroring Eilidh’s pace step for step. But its gait was wider, legs a great pine to her samplings. The space between shortened with each thud of its feet, shortened even further as those desperate arms reached out. Just as fingertips grazed the hairs on the nape of her neck—threatening to close, caught in its trap—her own trap sprung. Nicole baited the creature her way, the same enticing hairs, her hairs, waving in the air. The creature followed. As the same fate began to fall upon Nicole, Eilidh beckoned it her way. It followed again. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Delicious hairs always so close and yet so far. Equally compelled to chase both, it found itself somewhere in the middle: never able to meet, never able to feed. Eilidh stifled an amused snort as it came and failed once more to secure a hold on her.

The darkness grew thicker, tighter. Sometimes it felt like she was stuck in an abandoned realm. A single dot in a sea of black expanse. The periodic calls of Nicole and the shake of the earth and the heavy breath from behind the only reminder there was more than just that small circle of trees her light illuminated ahead. Kept the darkness from becoming suffocating. That heavy breath grew labored, strained. The creature was growing tired of their game. It growled and snapped and barked out that strange call. But these sounds slowly grew distant. The space between them grew wider. Stubbornness and hunger forced it to continue, but feverish interest began to wane with its stamina. It would settle for anything. Now was their chance. “Throw the braid and let’s go!” Her direction turned, circling back to the beginning. Back to the light.

It was pitch black. Nicole’s eyes darting in the dark desperate for any light. It was like running blindfolded and she wasn’t calm enough to use her other senses at best capacity. Not when they had a giant beast chasing them. Blood pounded in her ears, knowing there was a solution. She could see in the dark, why wasn’t she doing it? Fueled by the adrenaline, she didn't have time for measured thinking, her temples burned demanding a switch. Amber eyes glowed in the dark forest, exposing the path in front of her. So much easier.

Eilidh’s command reached her ears clearly, and Nicole didn't need to be told twice. She searched around, considering her options. She couldn’t imagine a braid traveling a long distance, instead she swung it upwards and prayed it would land on the top of the trees. The monster’s attention changed again, but she didn’t stay to see the results, as soon as the braid was released she turned, circling around the beast and heading back to where they came from. At least, the ground had stopped shaking. It was a good sign. She spared one last look behind her, just to confirm the beast was reaching for the top of the trees. Good. Maybe after the braid snack, the beast would settle for the corpses in the area, instead of following them back. She could only hope.

With the threat gone, Nicole’s first thought was to switch back to her human vision. Eyes on the ground, she blinked fast and hoped for the best. The switch back was always a gamble. Sometimes she could get it down in seconds, other times required a lot more concentration. The fear she’d get stuck with those eyes was always present. That it would start with the eyes, and then the teeth, and then— fuck, now it wasn’t the time. She breathed out deeply, contracting the muscles her eye muscles. Only when it was pitch dark again, she slowed her pace, catching up with Eilidh on the other side. “Good plan...good plan” She breathed out, stopping herself in time before she did something stupid, like hug her. She really was relieved her colleague was in one piece. “Can’t complain about surprise cardio but— enough for the night... I think. Can we... stick to the trails... from now on?”

Eilidh could hear footsteps approaching. But these did not shake the ground in their wake. These were fainter, friendlier, familiar. Her head turned, attention split between the trek onward and that steady advance. After a few moments, Nicole broke out of the darkness, into that circle of light. She smiled at the sight. “Good game!” She clapped an affectionate hand onto Nicole’s shoulder. Chuckle whistled out at her statement. “Sure thing.” As the excitement subsided, cravings twisted her stomach. And she noted the hints of exhaustion painted on Nicole’s movements, too. It was time for their departure. “Sounds like that Kera–” She blinked. Feet hesitated. “Kerashag.” Her hand now clapped against her face. While her conscious mind had been at work keeping her safe, her subconscious finally let that elusive memory slip out. Return to the surface. Sharing some enlightenment. It had been decades ago. It hadn’t even been her own tale. But she recalled a conversation with a zombie; one where she relayed her own incident with such a beast. A hair eater. A moth for death. It had harassed her just the same as the one Eilidh just faced. While the other woman was left with a bald head from the ordeal—she remembered how it glistened in the sunlight—Eilidh had managed to retain some of her hair.

“Fucking figures.” Eilidh mumbled under her breath. “Anyway. Sounds like they’re distracted. Let’s go before they want dessert.” Flashlight aimed at the ground, she scanned the surface for that change in texture. The light traveled across the grass, until the grass stopped, revealing dirt. Dirt that stretched onward into that darkness, until the darkness stopped too. Leading them back. She beckoned Nicole to follow as she hopped onto that trail, letting it return them to civilization.

It was reflex to smile back at Eilidh. The adrenaline was still coursing through her veins, she could bask in their success for a brief moment. It was nice, being helpful again. Even if the stakes were a lot higher than guiding someone through a trail. Nicole picked up on the hesitation, on the word that was uttered, but she kept her head down. She wasn’t going to ask. Not until they were back on the trail. She didn’t object as Eilidh voiced her exact thoughts. Better get the fuck away when their legs could still go.

The road back was understandably more quiet. Eilidh didn’t have time or energy for funny quips. And well, that was never Nicole’s thing. She did notice how her companion’s heart didn’t seem to be pounding like her own, though. Undetectable. It reminded her of her friend Griffin. She wished to be as cool under pressure as them.

There were no more surprises for them on the way back, and soon enough they were back on the original path. Their vehicle had to be close. Nicole couldn’t wait to be back at the station. It was hard to erase the monster from her mind. She would’ve liked to shrug the experience off. Like she had in the past with other strange beasts. Just call them quirky White Crest things and roll with it. But she had to know, didn't she? She had to learn. Because the town was a dangerous place, and she couldn’t keep turning a blind eye. She didn’t want to get hurt again. She didn't want to lose more things. “So… kera what?” her voice broke the silence. She nudged back to the forest, where she first heard her utter that word. She decided to give the woman the option to pass on the question, giving a one shoulder shrug. “Sounded like you knew what the fuck that was, that’s all”.

The thrill of the chase waned, and in lieu of an ache—such a rare thing for Eilidh to feel—her legs grew heavy under her own weight. Hunger pricked at her stomach. The smell of that corpse like a phantom in her nose, calling her back with its intoxicating memory. But turning around would lead her all the way back to that and repeat the cycle all over again. Despite the logic, the temptation still bubbled inside her, and if Nicole weren’t near, she might’ve tried her luck. Who cares about being bald if it meant scoring an easy meal—perhaps meals considering the creature’s proclivities. But it was less fun utilizing such a method, and with that deciding thought, the urge went away. Her focus returned to the trail, to the station that waited for them at the end.

Eilidh chuckled into the crisp night air. “Kerashag. They eat–” Dead almost slithered from her lips, but she quickly bit into the word before it could manage. “–hair and nails. Don’t know much else ‘bout them. Beyond the nice example we just got.” Her head motioned to the darkness, to where the forest was ever vast, to where that creature still lurked. “Glad to be back on the force?” There was a genuine, albeit playful, curiosity in her question. But it also served as a distraction.

The moonlight filtered through the trees with more intensity as they began approaching their starting point. It was a testament to how deep they ventured, that they still couldn’t see the lights from surrounding camping sites. Nicole glanced at her partner, noticing the exhaustion on her face with more clarity. Then, she noticed the mismatched length of her hair. For a blade cut it was pretty decent, she almost said out loud. “Kerashag” she repeated awkwardly, word foreign in her tongue. Her face wrinkled with disgust. So she wasn’t imagining the weird diet then. Why go for corpses then, and why was Eilidh’s hair more alluring? Should she be offended? “No Bigfoot... fucking knew it” she added, letting out a huff. She decided to ignore the rest of the questions forming in her head. She had a name, and that was enough for now.

A laugh caught in her throat when Eilidh broke the silence. Her smile grew. The woman’s tone made her feel welcome. But as she processed the meaning behind the words, her expression began to falter. Nicole considered the doubts that filled her the moment the beast appeared. Her reluctance to investigate. The fear coursing through her at the thought of Eilidh getting hurt. She bit the inside of her cheek, stomach sinking with dread. It was probably too soon. Maybe she should’ve stayed doing office hours. That was it. That’s why she still felt shaky in the legs, right? It would probably take her some time to feel like herself again. “Yeah, yeah—” she cleared her throat, voicing her own conclusion. “Hoping for less action next time, though...still rusty” she spotted their vehicle at the distance, nodding her head towards it. They’d be back at the station soon, safe from what lurked in the woods. Safe from the questions she had to start asking herself.

#into the thick of it (ugh)#chatzy #;— interactions #ft. nicole s.#so much shenanigans

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calligraphist-artemisia · 3 years

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The Butterfly Dome

Written for Kidgeweek 2021!

I won’t be doing all of Kidgeweek this year (though I am writing something for each day of the Kidge Spring Event), but I do have three one-shots written, including this one. (The others will be on the 19th and 22nd.)

This one is the prompt for April 17 - Botanical Gardens/Lake Time. I chose to go with Botanical Gardens.

Also posted on AO3 under the username Kishirokitsune.

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The Butterfly Dome

As part of a deal with her mom, Pidge agreed to work at the Plaht Botanical Garden for one month in their volunteer program. In return, she would be allowed to spend her final month before college on a lengthy road trip with her friends. She thought it was a pretty great deal.

Pidge would be primarily working in the greenhouse to help care for seedlings and saplings alike, as well as to help quarantine everything new that came in until they were sure they weren't carrying unwanted pests or disease. It was hot and humid and Pidge didn't really care for that, but she didn't hate working in the greenhouse and that was all that mattered.

At the end of her first week, she was given a new task: deliver flowering plants to the caretakers of the Butterfly Dome, which was basically an even bigger greenhouse meant to do exactly as it sounded.

“Ask for Keith,” her mother advised as she finished loading up the cart. “He's in charge of accepting new arrivals. And also make sure he reads this-” (Colleen held up a folded letter) “-and don't go anywhere until he does.”

Pidge took the letter and stuck it into the pocket of her apron. “Is it a list of all the plants?”

Colleen shook her head. “No, it's instructions to take you under his wing for the day. We don't have much going on in here this weekend, but the Dome could use the extra hand and I promised them one of our volunteers.”

“Does this happen a lot? Just moving people around without asking if they're okay with it?” Pidge asked, disgruntled by the sudden shift in her routine.

“On occasion,” Colleen replied. “Most of our volunteers are here because they want to do a little bit of everything. I wouldn't send you to the Dome if I thought you would hate it. And just think of how good your experiences will look on your resume!”

“Yeah, I'm sure tech companies will be super impressed with my knowledge of flowers and butterflies,” Pidge said dryly.

Colleen gave her daughter a look. “You know what I mean, Katie.”

She did but she wasn't about to get into that conversation with her mom again. Instead, Pidge just sort of shrugged and grabbed onto the handle of the cart, waiting for the go-ahead to leave. She took it easy as she pushed the cart out of the greenhouse. It seemed pretty sturdy, but she didn't want to go too fast and end up with all of the plants on the floor.

Pidge passed a few people in the halls and offered up simple greetings to most of them until she finally arrived at the Dome. She carefully rolled the cart into the entry chamber and had to wait until the door shut behind her before she was able to enter the main room. Standing near that entrance was the Head of the Department, Takashi Shirogane. He had been a friend of the family for many years and was affectionately nicknamed “Shiro” because of all of the times he started to introduce himself by his surname first, only to correct himself partway through.

“Ah, those are the flowers Colleen was telling me about!” he said, smiling at her.

“I'm supposed to take them to Keith,” Pidge said. “Except, uh, who's Keith?”

Shiro gestured farther into the Dome at another man with black hair who was crouched over one of the flower beds with a hand pruner, carefully removing dead branches or flowers. “My Assistant Head, over there. I'm surprised the two of you haven't met yet. Do you want me to introduce you?”

Pidge shrugged. “Mom sent me with a note. And I'm a big girl, Shiro. I can handle talking to strangers.”

Shiro looked amused by that for some reason, but he nodded and told her that he'd be around if she needed anything before moving aside so she could roll the cart along the path. She made enough noise as she approached for Keith to hear and he stood up when he noticed her coming his way.

And it was then that Pidge wondered if she was in trouble.

Keith was far younger than she expected. She imagined someone a little older – closer to Shiro's age. (Not that Shiro was old.) If she had to guess, Keith was near her own age and also happened to be rather attractive.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“I'm Pidge from the Greenhouse,” she said, startled into an introduction. “I, um, have your plants? And a note from Director Holt.”

Keith held out his hand and Pidge placed the note into it. She continued to stand by the cart while he read the message just like her mother instructed, waiting for him to finish and tell her what she would be doing to help out. (And if she happened to take a moment to check him out, then that was her little secret.)

“Looks like you'll be with me for the day,” he said, tucking the note into his back pocket. “I assume you already know the rules around here, but I'll remind you anyway: watch your step and don't touch the butterflies. They'll probably come pretty close to us while we're doing our planting, so keep that in mind.”

Pidge nodded.

Keith regarded her for a moment, his intense blue-gray eyes meeting her own. “We're replanting the Main Feature bed today. The pipes sprang a leak and ruined everything last month before we could get in and replace them, but that's all fixed now and we just got in the new soil. The locations for the plants have been marked with stakes, however, we will consult the planner before we do any digging. Sound simple enough?”

“So, basically don't do anything until you tell me to,” Pidge summarized, earning herself what was likely a rare smile. It was gone quickly as Keith nodded and gestured for her to follow. She pushed the cart along behind him and, as she promised, kept an eye out for any errant butterflies in her path.

It wasn't hard to tell when they arrived at the Main Feature bed. Not only was the soil smoothed out on top and staked with plant labels, but there was also a magnificent metal butterfly sculpture in the very center. A closer look showed that there were also tiny hoses winding their way throughout the bed, which she assumed was the sprinkler system. Pidge parked her cart where Keith indicated and then walked over to his side to view the planner he picked up from a nearby portable work table. She listened intently as he explained that they would start in the center near the sculpture and work their way out, carefully measuring the width and depth of each hole before placing any plants.

“All of the tools you need are here,” Keith said, gesturing to the top of the table, where there were several trowels, gloves, and measuring devices. “I recommend picking an apron so you can keep everything together. If you want a kneeling pad, we have those too.”

Pidge picked one of the green aprons and slid it over her head before tying it around her waist. She quickly grabbed a pair of matching green gloves and put those on, before sticking one of the trowels and two of the rulers (one wooden and one flexible) into the pockets on the apron. She didn't figure she needed a kneeling pad, though it was nice to know they had them on hand.

Keith briefly quizzed her on everything he'd just said and then they got to work.

It was pleasant to work alongside Keith. He didn't feel the need to constantly talk about whatever came to mind, saving his words for checking in on how her digging was coming along. It allowed plenty of time for Pidge's mind to wander without interruption.

All things considered, she enjoyed her time in the Dome and found herself disappointed when they finished planting everything on the cart.

“Not bad,” Keith remarked as he checked the time. “Really good, actually. We're ahead of schedule for once.” He lifted his gaze to eye her for a long moment. “Director Holt should have the next batch loaded up for us by now.”

“There's more?” Pidge blurted out.

Keith raised an eyebrow. “We'll keep going until the bed is full. Unless you hate being here that much.”

Pidge quickly shook her head. “No! I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I've only been here for a week but it seems like everyone else tries to take things slow, so I was surprised that we're going to keep going.”

“Ah,” was all Keith said as he turned his back to her and began removing his apron and tools, setting them all back onto the counter.

Pidge followed suit, hoping he wasn't disappointed in her. Neither of them spoke as Keith grabbed the cart and began to wheel it back to the Greenhouse and it was only when she heard her mother's voice that Pidge realized she'd let her slip into despairing thoughts.

“You're back sooner than I thought,” laughed Colleen, a pleased smile gracing her lips. “I have your next two carts loaded up and ready if you want to take them. At the pace you two are going, we'll have it all cleared out by the end of the day.”

“That's my hope,” Keith said, turning the empty cart over to her. “Thanks for sending Pidge to help, Director Holt. It would take me more than double the amount of time on my own.”

Pidge couldn't stop herself from jerking her head to look at him in surprise.

And there it was again – that soft, fleeting smile, and it was directed towards her. She could feel her cheeks heating up, but she didn't, couldn't, look away. Instead, she offered a small smile of her own and allowed herself to hope that once her weekend in the Dome was over, she would still get to spend time with him.

#voltron #kidge #kidgeweek 2021 #fanfiction #kidgemas

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leotssukinaga · 4 years

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Lost on You

Pairing(s): unrequited!Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader, Oikawa Tooru x Reader.

Summary: Ushijima Wakatoshi still remembers how soft your hands were when he helped you up the first time you met. In fact, he remembers everything about you. Including the way your lips brushed Oikawa’s, the soft words you spoke to someone who wasn’t him. You were never his, he knew that. But that didn’t dull the ache he felt knowing you were marrying someone else. A/N: I’m not even sorry tbh. Also, dedicating this to @4haikyuu since it was her idea. Ily ma’am. Word Count: 2,051

You're 15, not yet through your first year of high school when it happens. You're walking through the halls, not paying attention to where you're walking, trying to figure some math problem out in your head, and you walk straight into a wall. At least, you thought it was a wall, until it apologised to you. Walls don't tend to do that. You look up to see a hand outstretched, and follow the arm up to see a tall, mildly terrifying boy, wearing an unreadable expression. Definitely not a wall, then.

"You don't have to be sorry, its my fault. I have a tendency to not look where I'm going. I didn't hurt you, did I?" "No." You think he might be a second year, and you're too busy wondering why you recognise him to notice the way he stares at your hand after it leaves his, or the slight blush that paints itself on his cheeks. You realise he's wearing a volleyball jacket, and it hits you. This must be Ushijima. "Oh, good... I'll see you around, I guess. Um- good luck at the preliminaries." It wouldn't have been audible if the corridor hadn't been silent, but the way you whisper it makes his heart skip a beat. You're gone before he can thank you, but the impression you leave behind lingers. You might just be the first thing outside of volleyball he takes an interest in.

• • • • • • • • • • He barely allows himself to hope when, the day after Shiratorizawa wins the finals, a note is taped to his locker. It's simple, reading 'good luck at nationals', and he'd have brushed it off if he hadn't seen you walking away from the area just a few minutes ago. Did you really come all the way here for this? You'd waved at him a few times since your first encounter, and he'd seen you in the crowd at the finals. You seemed nice enough, and interested in volleyball, so the chance that the handwriting was yours was at least a little high. It wasn't like him, though, to hope that it had been you. In fact, the way you'd lingered on his mind since that meeting had been far from in character for the second year spiker. What was this?

Your friendship, at least that's what he thought it was, blooms over the next few months. He doesn't talk much, but you do, and you don't seem to mind his monotone responses. The topic of conversation is usually volleyball anyway, and he's comfortable with that. You're quite the analyst, and he'd considered asking you to sign up at the club's manager, but seeing you sporadically was distraction enough. He isn't sure exactly what you're doing to him, but it's definitely something.

The first time you called him ‘Toshi’, he nearly chokes on his drink. He not a fan of the way his cheeks flush at the nickname, but if you notice then you don't care. It ends up sticking, although you refuse to call him as such in front of his teammates, you didn't want them to tease him and you had a feeling that at the very least, Tendou would never let it go. The nickname wouldn't have caused in issue, but the way he blushes would. He finds himself grateful for your mercy.

• • • • • • • • • • Shortly after the start of your second year- and his third- you approach him. You look nervous, refusing to meet his eye, and he kicks himself for where his mind takes him. Are you going to confess? He attempts to remove the thought from his head. He doesn't have a shred of no evidence that you like him, and he hates when people jump to conclusions without anything to back them up. He does not want to be that person. "Toshi... can I ask you a favour?" "...Yes." "Could you maybe... teach me to play volleyball? I don't expect to be good at it or anything, I just... wanna know how." "Of course." "Thanks Toshi!!" You hug him. It's rather unexpected, but not unwelcome, although he's a little unsure of what to do with his hands- not wanting to make you uncomfortable. The two of you spend the following weeks in the gym together after practice. He.s trying so hard not to be distracted by everything about you; being distracted just isn't like him. But you're so pretty, the way your cheeks flush due to exertion, the way you bite your lip nervously when you don't hit the ball quite right, the sheer excitement in your tone when you do hit the ball right, and somehow make it seem like Wakatoshi deserved all the credit.

He's caught a glimpse of a necklace more than once, small and gold with a heart shaped pendant, and he desperately hopes it had been given to you by a close friend or a relative, rather than the other option. He knew by now that his heart belonged to you, and he wanted yours to belong to him too. He swore he'd tell you soon.

• • • • • • • • • • Shiratorizawa didn't tend to do practice games with other high schools, their skill had far surpassed them and it offered no challenge. But for whatever reason, one against Aoba Johsai- probably their biggest rival in the prefecture- had been scheduled. He briefly commented on the oddity of this when he told you as you practiced with him, missing the way your face lit up at the news that Seijoh would be at your school. "You don't pick the ballroom, Toshi. You just dance." It was an odd metaphor, but he supposed it made sense. The way his mind drifts to dancing with you- with no mind paid to where- is the more pressing matter. As the two of you leave the gym an hour later, he doesn't notice the way you hurriedly sent a text, nor does he see the line of hearts next to the contact name.

When he sees you at the practice game a week later, standing with some other second years, he offers you a small wave. This is the first practice game you'd ever come to, your schedule always conflicting too much. He's glad you'd made time for him, even if this isn't an important game. And when Seijoh's captain- ever the flirt- winks at you, Ushijima simply rolls his eyes. He doesn't look at you, assuming your reaction would be similar. Perhaps he should have.

• • • • • • • • • • The preliminaries were a breeze for Shiratorizawa, as usual. Nevertheless, he's grateful for the support you show, turning up to every game they play. He enjoys sharing the victory with you, even when it was to be expected. You always tell him you're proud of him. He doesn’t need to hear it, but Wakatoshi likes the way his heart fluttered when you say it. He pays no attention to the crowds when he played, and nobody can fault his concentration. Even with you there, he's utterly focused. There's only one time this proves to be a bad idea.

He'd promised himself a week earlier that if they won the semi-finals he would finally tell you how he felt- before he graduated and you slipped through his fingers. But when he scans the stands for your face after the win, you were nowhere to be seen. (If he'd scanned them before the game, he'd have noticed you weren't there at all.) He makes up his mind to find you, hoping you're somewhere in the building still. He finds nothing but heartbreak, instead.

• • • • • • • • • • He stops walking at the sound of your soft voice, peering round the corner. "I'm so sorry, Tōru. I know how important this was to you, And I know you're not gonna believe me, but you played excellently today." He stopped in his tracks. Your hands are cupping the cheeks of Aoba Johsai's captain, tears streaming down them. They lost the semi-finals, he'd heard that, but he hadn't expected to see this. "If I'd played well we'd have won!" "You know that's not always true. Karasuno have grown this year- in ways none of us could have imagined. Playing well and playing better than the other team are not the same thing, you know that. You fought so hard out there, and I'm so proud of you. I know how important this was, I've watched you run yourself ragged for months for this. I know I can't make it better, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stand here and let you beat yourself up." Wakatoshi could tell by your tone that you were close to crying yourself, though he was unsure whether it was Oikawa's anguish or Seijoh's loss that was making you emotional. Perhaps both. "I don't deserve you, Y/N, I'm a failure." "Tōru, you deserve the world. And if I could give it to you wrapped in a bow, I wouldn't hesitate. Come back to my place for tonight. I'll take care of you." He nods, reaching up to dry his eyes. Wakatoshi feels his heart break further- if that's at all possible- as the setter places a soft kiss to your lips. "You really are too good for me." "One day I'm gonna train Iwa to slap you whenever you say that." That gets you a laugh from him, and you smile softly upon achieving your goal. "Y/N?" "Yes, love?" "I know this is a really dumb time to get insecure but... you don't comfort Ushijima like this, do you?" "I don't think I've ever comforted him in any way, to be honest. You don't need to be jealous of my friendship with Toshi. That's all its ever gonna be, you're the only volleyball player in my heart." As your voices fade in the distance, a certain wing spiker feels like he's losing his grip on the composure he's renowned for. Not only is your heart most definitely not his, you sounded so certain that it never would be. This cast a new light on a lot of things, depending on how long you'd been with him.

Did all of your volleyball knowledge last year come from your relationship with Oikawa? He was certain you hadn't gotten close to him because of Oikawa's one-sided rivalry with him, you were too down to earth to do anything like that, but he was also certain that this had been the reason you'd asked him to teach you to play. And the reason you'd turned up to the practice game a few months prior. The heart necklace that he'd almost prayed had been a platonic gift was probably given to you by the setter, too. Wakatoshi truly didn't know how to feel, but he was aware of the heartbreak settling over him like a thick fog. You were never his, he'd always been aware of that, but he'd allowed himself to hope you could be. And now even that hope was stripped away.

• • • • • • • • • • Wakatoshi recalls all of this with a heavy heart as he reads the words on the small card he'd received in the mail. It’s been 4 years since high school, and he isn't any less in love with you. That’s the peril of remaining friends, he supposes, but how was he supposed to say no when you asked him to keep in touch? How was he supposed to say no when you asked him anything, even this? He's spent 4 years supporting your relationship, pretending it doesn't tear him to shreds every time you mentioned Tōru. 4 years hating himself for hoping that one day you'd show up with a broken heart for him to mend. 4 years seeing sunlight in your eyes, knowing they shone for someone else. 4 years knowing that after all of the agony being in love with you put him through, he'd still find a way to bring the moon closer to earth for you if you asked him to, if he knew it would make you smile. Wakatoshi glares at the invitation he clutches in his fist, as if that might change what it says. Your name next to Oikawa's brings an ache to his chest, and he barely notices as a tear drops onto the small card. He doesn't want to go, but he knows he will. He'd go anywhere for you. Even your wedding.

#my writing #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu imagines #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa x reader

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mstrumpeter · 3 years

Text

“I’m glad we both have found back to you.”

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Preamble: Sooo... our BluesBrothers Discord Server made me do it. I wrote my first very own fanfic. 😊 It has gotten a lot longer than I intended it to be, so please bear with me, if there’s not too much going on in part 1 but part 2 will follow asap :)

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Alan Rubin x fem!Reader (chapter one)

Word Count: 2.060

Fandom: Blues Brothers

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Blues Brothers characters or movies.

Warnings: none

The story takes place before the movie and before Jake went to jail for sticking up a gas station.

It was one of those afternoons Kelsey spent at the Soul Food Cafe at West Maxwell Street. She was sitting at her “regular” table at the window, sipping a cup of coffee and listening to those beautiful tunes from John Lee Hooker and a few other musicians who were performing outside in the streets. Occasionally she took a look at the opened book in her lap but couldn’t seem to focus on anything she read. If only he would stop staring.

Across the room 2 guys were seated dressed like Hasidic diamond merchants, black suit and tie, black hat, black boots, they even wore their dark sunglasses inside. Kelsey wondered if she had seen them before, surely they must have caught her eye. In any case one thing was certain. The taller one was permanently watching her. Although he was wearing his glasses she could feel his eyes on her and it annoyed the young woman to no end. She usually came her after work to relax and calm down but being watched certainly didn’t make that any easy. From the corner of her eye she saw the tall one getting up and walking over to her table. “Hiya, how are you doing? I’ve seen your face a couple of times before.” Slowly the girl turned her head from looking out the window to the man who, without asking, took the seat at the other side of the table. “Err… Hi, thanks I’m… doin’ good?” Was that a question? Get a grip girl “I spend quite a few afternoons here, that’s right. What about you?” As the man spoke the blonde girl took a closer look at him. He was actually kinda cute, well, from what you could see under all those black accessories. “Same here. Me and my brother play in a band”, he said as he pointed to the shorter guy who still sat at their table but gave Kelsey a small nod. “The two guys in the kitchen are also in our band, they work here for some side cash.” She chuckled “Sounds like your band isn’t in great demand then.” He gave her back a little smile “You know some times are easier and some are tougher on us. It ain’t easy out there. But perhaps you’ve heard of us…? The Blues Brothers?” The girl shrugged her shoulders. “Well, one more reason to come by when we’re playing our next gig. This Saturday we’re at the…” He got interrupted by his brother, who was standing in the door, followed by a slightly pale, thin man with long, blonde and fluffy hair and a dark skinned, very muscular guy in a tight shirt. “You comin El?” “Yeah s-sure!” He assured the three men then turned back his attention to Kelsey. “Listen I gotta go, we’re on our way to rehearsal. Can I meet you again sometime? How about tomorrow, same time, same table?” And before Kelsey could agree or disagree the strange dressed man was dragged on his collar and out of the cafe by his brother.

“Jake we weren’t finished you know?” His brother sighed “I love you Elwood but you’ve been working up the courage to talk to that girl for what feels like weeks now. Thought you’d speed it up just a little once you finally did make a move.” Elwood looked shyly to the side “Yeah.. it’s just, you know I’m looking for something serious, that takes some time.” “I do. And I do want you to be happy. But I don’t wanna be late for rehearsal, everyone will blame me again, when it clearly was your fault.” Jake joked and gave his brother a soft bump with his elbow. The next day Kelsey left work, as she checked the time she still felt unsure about what to do. Usually she would go to the cafe but then again there could be that guy waiting for her. Was he even coming? Kelsey never agreed on meeting him again though. Did she even want to meet him again? He definitely was cute and I barely know any people in this city beside my coworkers, so why not? And so she found herself sitting at “her” table again, waiting for the man in his suit to show up. When the doorbell of the cozy dine up rang she was torn from her thoughts but greeted with a friendly smile by him. “I wasn’t even sure you’d come but here you are, I’m so glad.”, the handsome man spoke as he took a seat. “My name’s Elwood by the way.” “Hi, I’m Kelsey. Yeah you got torn away rather quickly yesterday.” “Sorry for that, today I’m all yours. We only rehearse on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. So.. you enjoy music?” “Oh absolutely. I adore jazz and blues and cannot do much with today’s music to be honest. I don’t know anyone who feels the same so this feels like my sanctuary. Did you grow up in Chicago” And so Elwood told Kelsey about the St. Helen orphanage where he and Jake grew up, how they became interested in music and founded the band. And Kelsey told him how she was raised in NewYork and only moved to Chicago a couple of weeks ago since she needed to leave NY and her past behind, to make a fresh start.

A couple of days later Elwood and Kelsey met for their 2nd date. They agreed on Kelsey picking him up right after rehearsal and they’d go out for dinner. Fortunately there was enough time for her to go back home after work and before her date. She took a shower and made sure to take extra care of her blonde, curly hair. Typical. When it matters those curls do what they want. She decided on her favourite dress, a black sleeved gown with golden ornaments, tied around her waist with a cute matching belt, ending just above her knee and a pair of black laced boots. Kelsey rarely felt self-confident. Over the years she did realise that she was pretty but her figure always made her feel unsexy. She wasn’t much overweighted but simply curvy, with a wider hip and some bigger thighs and butt. That dress though made her feel pretty, so she was satisfied with her look in the end as she left the house with a few butterflies in her stomach.

The young woman took a glance at the note the musician gave her and looked rather insecure at the building in front of her. No doubt this was the address Elwood had written down for her but this looked nothing like a place for rehearsal. Well, how does Bo Diddley state so well in one of my faves songs “Can’t judge a book by it’s cover” She started humming the tune as she entered the old, abandoned-looking building. Not having a clue in which room the band was practising she simply followed the sound of music and as she got closer and the sound become clearer she could identify the song. It was “Green Onions” by Booker T and MGs. Wow. She hadn’t heard that one for ages but she instantly started to feel the vibe. When she finally found the boys, their rehearsal had already came to an end. What a shame, I’d love to listen to some more songs, they sound quite talented. “Kelsey! There you are!” Elwood yelled from the other side of the room, raising one arm. The girl felt uneasy being on display but as she let her gaze wander through the room she noticed that aside from Elwood, Jake and one of the man she had seen in the cafe before no one else as giving her great attention. Most of the band members were busy with their instruments, they were either cleaning or doing some maintenance work on it. Elwood took a few big steps to catch up with the blonde girl “Hi, glad to see you!” He seemed to be pure excited for her to meet the guys. “C’mon I’d like you meet the rest of the band. You know, they became like family to me. Hope you like ‘em too. I know you will!” he said eagerly. “So you already know Jake of course and I believe you have met Blue Lou and Matt before.” “Yeah I have, nice to see you again.” Kelsey stammered. Wouldn’t say I “met” them but rather took a short glance at them. “Sure, we know ya’, a regular at our diner. 2nd table at the window…” Matt started “A chopped cheese and one big white coffee.” Lou finished for him. Yeah okay that’s crazy. The girl laughed nervously “Haha, alright, you scare me! Think I might order something different next time.” She then got introduced to Tom Bones at trombone, Donald Dunn at bass guitar, Murphy at keyboards, Steve at lead guitar and Willie at drums. One man was left, he was standing with his back to Elwood and Kelsey and seemed incredibly deepened in whatever he was doing, looked like the zipper of his instrument case was stuck. They approached him when Elwood continued “And last but not least of course we have Mr. Fabulous…” The man quickly turned around as he heard his nickname when not only his jaw dropped a few inches. “Alan?” “Christ Almighty! Is that the McAllister girl? I didn’t know you where in Chicago!” “Well right back at you!” Kelsey grinned. “You.. two know each other?” Elwood asked confused. “Yeah, Alan was my trumpet teacher back in NY.” “Oh didn’t you tell me you had just started learning since you moved here?” “Err.. right, I.. err.. quit and picked up playing again”, Kelsey stumbled somewhat embarrassed. She felt strangely awkward admitting that she had quit at some point in front of Alan. She swore she could see some disappointment in the trumpeter’s eyes or perhaps it was the disappointment in herself. “Well if you need a brush-up I’d be glad to help.” Alan smiled. “Really?”, Kelsey bursted out and tried not sounding too excited as she went on. “I sure would appreciate that.” “How are Mr. and Mrs. McAllister doing?” That question caused a sudden change of the girl’s mood, Alan could read her facial expression immediately. “How about we catch up over coffee sometime? Guess you might be pretty interested how I ended up with these lunatics!” He laughed and gave Elwood a little flick against the brim of his hat. She gave him a little smile when Elwood grabbed her hand “Shall we?” Before neither one of them could say anything, he twisted her around, leading her to the door. “He really has a talent to kill the mood, hasn’t he?” Elwood joked. “Nah, everything’s alright”, she assured the handsome man at her side but turned around to meet Alan’s gaze who was looking after her.

The trumpeter closed the door and threw his keys at the table, letting his instrument bag slide off his shoulder onto the sofa. He then grabbed a bottle of beer, a cloth and the tube of polishing creme from the drawer, unpacking his horn. He couldn’t believe he stumbled into her today. It had been ages. Back in NY her parents had hired him as her trumpet teacher. That was over 10 years ago, she was only 14 back then. A teenager. Not the kind of girl that stood out in the crowd to be honest but that girl today, that woman - looked nothing like the teenager from NY. She really had grown into a looker. He remembered how she used to straighten her hair when she was younger, what a shame after seeing those beautiful blonde curls today, she looked like an angel. That dress perfectly hugged her curves and loosening it up with those black boots suited her a lot. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, that smile simply didn’t want to disappear from his inner eye. We was torn out of this thoughts when he’d realised he almost put the entire tube of polishing creme on the cloth - and into his lap. He sighed in annoyance and went to the kitchen to clean himself up. After getting rid of the mess, he made a couple of sandwiches and slumped in front of the telly… with a certain young woman on his mind.

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

#blues brothers #blues brothers fandom #Alan Rubin x fem!Reader #Mr.Fabulous #fanfiction #blues brothers fanfiction

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ghirahimbo · 4 years

Note

Are you open to prompts? I would suggest Link picking out new bangles for Revali's braids or something, if you'd like to use that!

Apparently I am open to prompts and would like to use that, because I went and wrote a whole post-Pinesong oneshot for it :D Here you go!

“Topaz,” Link said decisively, his voice slightly muffled by the thin blue veil that hid his just-too-angular jawline. “Definitely topaz. I assume it works for a Rito the same way it does for Hylians?”

“Of course.” Isha, the Gerudo jeweler, nodded eagerly. “Topaz harnesses the power of lightning to protect its wearer from electricity, no matter who wears it. A wise choice if your friend plans on traveling the desert for much longer—and the color would suit her nicely.”

“Do you think so?”

Revali couldn’t help but shift defensively under the somehow identical stares of consideration that turned his way, though in every other aspect the two humans examining him could not have looked more different. With her glowing dark skin and fiery hair worked elaborately beneath finely crafted ornaments that were no doubt proof of her skill as a jeweler, Isha was the very definition of put together beauty, so that Link looked almost drab and washed out in comparison. Some other Hylian might have disappeared completely in her presence—Isha would have towered head and shoulders over Link even without her golden heels, and the muscles that rippled beneath her sparse outfit were as hard and defined as any Gerudo’s Revali had ever seen—and yet… well, Link was still Link, even halfway hidden behind colorful silks. With one hand propped against his waist and the other scratching thoughtfully at his chin, Link inhabited his Gerudo clothing with a confidence that Revali had not expected from the way he’d blushed when he first pulled it out—a confidence that left Revali unaccountably flustered. He himself was not nearly so comfortable with his own feminine disguise, as evidenced by his constant prodding at the two looped braids that hung to either side of his face. How did Rito women function with those heavy braids dangling like that?

“You’re right,” Link agreed, and Revali raised an eyebrow as Link reached beneath his beak to push it up, examining his raised profile intently. “The jade went well with her eyes, I think, but the topaz…”

“The topaz will make her sparkle,” Isha insisted from his other side, holding an uncut yellow stone up against Revali’s face and squinting at them together. “You see it now, don’t you? What do you think, Vali?”

Revali rolled his eyes over the nickname Link had chosen as Revali’s impromptu alibi.

“I think that this place might be a waste of rupees after all,” he griped, jerking his head away. He might have reluctantly agreed to let Link buy him a gift from here if only because it made practical sense—there were an alarming number of creatures in the desert intent on shooting volts of electricity through his body—but he hadn’t agreed to being treated like an ornament himself, pushed and prodded and stared at.

Isha’s jaw snapped shut as she withdrew the gem, outrage sparking to life behind her eyes, and Link was quick to wave a dismissive hand.

“I’ll worry about my own rupees, thank you,” he said lightly, though Revali recognized the note of reproach in his voice. It was an effort not to stick out his tongue in response. “I told you, this is a gift. Besides,” he added impishly, “I’ll feel better knowing you have some form of protection if another electric keese sneaks up on you in the night.”

Revali bristled. “That was one time!”

“I assume you’ll want it crafted into a ring shape like the jade you showed you me earlier,” Isha interjected, addressing Link exclusively now as she turned towards him. “To hold back her hair, is that right? Earrings will not do her much good.”

“If you can,” Link said, fishing one of Revali’s large jade beads from his pouch and offering it to her as a sample. Revali watched it pass into her hands longingly, his unbound hair damp against the back of his neck in this dratted heat. “It’s fine if it costs a bit more than normal. This isn’t the sort of thing I usually ask you to make.”

“Nonsense,” Isha said briskly, brushing his concern aside. “It’s not as though I’ve never made rings before, and this is quite similar. I assume you brought the necessary materials?”

Link nodded, plunging his hand into his pouch again, although something he found there made him hesitate.

“Do you think…” Withdrawing a large, clear stone, Link half-glanced at Revali before avoiding looking at him altogether. “I know it’s not as practical, but… would a diamond be more traditional?”

Isha frowned. “Traditional in what way?”

“Well…” Link’s voice lowered to a whisper, and abruptly Revali realized that he’d been cut out of the conversation completely—an impression that Isha immediately encouraged by turning her back on him. In retrospect, he might not have needed to insult her entire livelihood earlier. The oppressive heat of this desert had left him admittedly snappish, with even less inclination to temper his tongue than usual.

With nothing to do but wait for them to finish, Revali wandered aimlessly around the dim storefront, looking around. The warm, recessed lighting and mismatched rugs kept the small room on the charming side of elegant, though the isolated pedestals that displayed the shop’s wares atop velvety pillows left no doubt of its luxurious nature. Running a reluctantly curious eye over the glittering pieces of jewelry, Revali noticed with surprise that he recognized most of them from Link’s collection. Perhaps Isha had not been exaggerating after all when she had lovingly called Link her shop’s patron.

Stopping in front of a pair of topaz earrings identical to the ones Link had put on that morning, Revali inspected the neatly penned price tag beneath them. And choked.

“I would still suggest the topaz,” he heard Isha say, the volume of their conversation rising to discernible levels once more. “It is more important for the final piece to suit its wearer than to cling to some tradition that neither of you cares for, I think, and your girlfriend… there is a spark to her.” Isha glanced back at Revali with a smile that showed too many teeth. “Yes, I think topaz will do very nicely.”

“You don’t think ruby would fit her better?” Link said dryly as Revali frowned, still wrapping his head around the thought that here he was Link’s girlfriend, and Isha threw back her head and laughed.

“Perhaps you should wear ruby, to guard against a scalding tongue,” she quipped, bowing her head in thanks as Link passed over a small handful of yellow gems. “Sarqso, my friend. This should be ready for you in about a day or so.”

“Link,” Revali hissed, drawing him aside as Isha wandered towards the back of the shop, still chuckling to herself over whatever joke they’d made at his expense. “Link, listen to me. You cannot spend this kind of money on a… a gift! A silly trinket!”

“What?” Link looked blankly up at Revali, then at the price tag he was gesturing towards furiously, and his expression cleared. “Oh, that! No, don’t worry about it. Isha gives me a good discount because I helped her get started with supplies.” Revali relaxed, somewhat mollified, until Link added casually, “I think she’ll only ask for about half that much.”

“That… is still a hefty sum of money,” Revali argued tightly. “I doubt that I even have that many rupees to rub together.”

Too late, Revali realized that he’d maybe revealed more about the nature of his misgivings than he’d intended to, because Link’s eyes were suddenly understanding above his veil.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said again, grabbing the tip of Revali’s wing to stroke gently. “I’m the one dragging you around, remember? That means it’s my job to make this worth your while.” As an afterthought, he added, “And it’s not a silly trinket. It’s a very serious trinket, and Isha is never going to forgive you for implying otherwise.”

Revali snorted.

“How shall I ever live on?” he asked sarcastically, prompting Link to bury his elbow in Revali’s side. Still, Revali resolved to be nothing but complimentary when they returned to pick up the finished product. Ever since meeting Urbosa, he’d suspected that only a fool would make an enemy of a Gerudo lightly. “Why were you asking her about diamonds, anyway? I thought we were here specifically for the topaz.”

Link hesitated for just a second too long before shrugging.

“No reason,” he said casually. Far too casually, and Revali raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Just a… thought I had. Doesn’t matter.”

“What’s the tradition?” Revali insisted, following as Link headed for the shop’s exit. “It must be something Hylian. I would know if it was Rito.”

“It’s…” Link sighed, and though the veil he wore hid most of his ears, the part Revali could see had turned a sudden, burning red. “I’ve heard that Hylians who are… in love… might sometimes give each other diamond jewelry as a symbol of that. I don’t know, really. It’s just something that I’ve heard.”

Revali’s brow furrowed, and he shot out a wing to catch Link before he could duck away.

“So you wanted to… give me a feather?” he asked, catching onto the closest comparison he could come up with. “That isn’t embarrassing, Link. You do know that the two of us are already…” His eyes flicked back towards where Isha stood, and his beak clicked wryly. “Girlfriends.”

Link’s veil fluttered as he huffed out a laugh.

“I mean, that wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. Isha’s jewelry really is useful, you know, and the topaz will come in handy even outside of the desert, but…” He hesitated then, his hand sneaking up to tug at his earring—or, no. No, he was toying with the feathered braid behind it, tucked discreetly beneath his veil. “It did occur to me that… well, I don’t have feathers to give you, do I? People see a piece of you whenever they look at me. I guess it would be… nice? If they saw something from me when they looked at you.”

It was touchingly sweet and utterly corny, and Revali dipped his beak to brush against Link’s face, suppressing a smirk.

“Let me get this straight,” he said with low delight. “You essentially planned on tying a feather into my hair without telling me?”

“Oh, stop it,” Link laughed, slapping him away half-heartedly. “It’s just a gift, okay? You don’t even have to wear it if you don’t like it… though I think Isha’s right.” Although the veil hid Link’s grin, Revali could see it in his eyes. “Topaz will look good on you.”

“Of course it will,” Revali agreed haughtily, privately resolving to wear the thing daily whether he liked it or not. He’d always imagined that if Link had feathers, they’d be a sort of golden yellow… much like topaz, in fact. “Now, are you ready to drag me around some more? I’ll warn you up front that you’ll have to try extra hard to make this place worth my while.”

Link ran his eyes over Revali’s no doubt sweatily bedraggled appearance and grinned, flicking one of Revali’s looped braids.

“Drinks, maybe?” he suggested as Revali frowned, swatting him away. “I hear good things about the Noble Pursuit. They might even let me try one this time, though if they don’t, at least they keep ice at the bar.”

Anything with ice sounded like a spectacular notion, but before they could leave, Isha stopped them.

“Oh, Link!” she called, looking up from her workbench. “Could you come here for just a moment? I have a few questions to ask before I get started.”

Glancing up at Revali, Link shrugged apologetically.

“Sorry, Vali. Drinks in a minute,” he promised with a wink before swaying towards the back of the store to talk quietly with Isha, leaning over her desk as she sketched out a few quick designs. Really, he was a little too good in that outfit sometimes.

Another customer walked into the store as he waited—a Hylian woman with a pinched, unpleasant face who looked around with greedy interest. Though he thought he wouldn’t have noticed such a thing normally, today his eyes were quick to pick out the diamond ring prominent on her finger, and he felt a flash of interest. Something about that Hylian custom had sounded vaguely familiar once Link explained it, though he still didn’t understand why the idea of it had made Link blush like that. It sounded pretty straightforward to him, and Link had been far from reluctant to express his affection for Revali in other ways.

Curious to see what had caught his eye, the woman leaned over the pedestal with Revali, and her nose wrinkled up.

“Topaz,” she muttered. “Not a fan, really. Yellow washes me out.” Catching sight of the diamond circlet on a neighboring pedestal, her entire face brightened. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

“Are you shopping for someone?” Revali asked, his curiosity overcoming his dislike of idle conversation. Maybe he should get something like that for Link… eventually, once he’d saved up some money and convinced Isha to stop staring daggers at him. It wouldn’t hurt to embrace a few Hylian traditions when Link had so readily adopted everything Rito, and Link did seem to like jewelry.

The woman laughed.

“Yeah, myself,” she said dryly. “My husband owes this to me, honestly. I was this close to divorcing him after that terrible honeymoon we went on. I might have done it if he hadn’t given me armfuls of baked apples as an apology. I’ve never been so bored and cold in my life… oh, but you’re from Rito Village, right?” she asked, looking Revali over. “You should know exactly what I’m talking about then.”

Revali stiffened in angry realization.

“I can’t say that I do,” he bit out, resolving to never attempt small talk with a stranger again. “Didn’t he already give you that? That should more than make up for whatever emotional distress such a terrible trip must have caused.”

He flicked a feather towards the ring on her finger, and the woman blinked in surprise.

“Well, of course he gave me this,” she said, holding her hand up to display the ring more clearly. “It’s a wedding ring. He’s my husband. We’re married.”

Abruptly, Revali realized why the tradition had sounded familiar.

“Done!” Link said, reappearing beside Revali to hold his wing. Eyeing the woman sideways, Link frowned in recognition but didn’t address her. “Are you ready to go?”

Revali didn’t respond, his mind still caught on the words ‘married’ and ‘husband’ and Link’s bright red blush. Ohhhhh. Oh.

Oh.

#revalink #pinesong #my writing #isha is amazing and juney sucks and that is that #Anonymous

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