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artsyxloner · 3 years

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Not Just a Monster

Warning: lots of blood, Violence, gore, voices

1: Monster Troubles

Min Soo-Nico P.O.V

Standing in front of the shattered glass mirror I held on to both ends of the bathroom sink. As my nose was gushing blood staining my face it getting all in my lips.

I didn't dare look up at my reflection to be scared of what I would see. I could hear its voice inside my head, I wanted it out" Come on Soo-Nico, this isn't so bad just let go." The monster told me, as I heard its low chuckle.

It sent a cold chill down my spine.

" No, leave me the hell alone!" I shouted out loud, not caring because there was no one here or anywhere as a matter of fact.

" Why there all gone, it was your fault after all wasn't it Soo-Nico?" It spoke again to me reminding me of what I accidentally did.

" It wasn't my fault I didn't mean it!" I cried out, as tears fell making my cheeks feel moist.

" That's not what they thought!" I then heard a 'tsk tsk' noise like it was scolding me. " you can forget all about them so you don't have to suffer. Anymore let me in."

I felt my chest puff out as my breathing became unsteady. " What do you know about family? You have none your just a hallucination!" I spit gritting my teeth.

" Maybe but I'll be real soon, the desire is too tempting to resist." Those were the monster's last words that were imprinted in my mind.

"The desire was too tempting to resist."

I have to keep it in I have to stay in control I told myself sighing, Finally able to see my reflection all that was left was blood.

Turning on the water, I splashed my face rubbing it all off, spitting it all out leaving nothing. If only they were here maybe this wouldn't be so bad to endure?

I vividly remember their faces contoured in pain as they screamed. I watched them die, a gruesome death but I just stood there in a daze not doing anything.

Swallowing back my tears and a loud sob that wanted to escape my lips I walked out of the bathroom stepping into the lobby before it could happen.

I was going to turn into one of those things sometime soon an ugly creature that roamed the earth. I'm trying to stay in control for as long as I can but I don't know why?

Maybe it's because I'm wishing so hard to survive this and continue to remember them. They don't deserve to be forgotten for my mistake.

I made my way to the elevator pressing the button that said open. Before Stepping in I took out my weapon from my belt raising it high in the air ready for an attack.

The metal doors open revealing nothing. I let out a sigh of relief lowering my weapon, walking in I hit the top floor button. I was going to go to the roof to scout out the area from above.

I needed to make a run since I'm low on supplies. And I wasn't going to sneak into any rooms in this building to find anything because I wasn't going to risk it being killed.

They're mostly empty anyway because it's a low-rated motel building. I watch the numbers on the top corner of the doors count up to the top as it reached the 15th floor which was the roof.

Holding my weapon up again, I knew this wouldn't kill the monsters but it would distract them long enough for me to get away. That's the thing I hate about these things they don't die no matter how many times I slice, stab, or shoot nothing works.

At least that I know of? But I try to stay clear and never let them see me. Because if they did its game over. This isn't a disease it's a curse that we humans plagued on ourselves it's kinda like the seven deadly sins if you ask me.

The doors finally opened as I felt the rush of hot air hit my cheeks. I sucked in a breath being still because there's no telling what will be up here even though I've been up hearing a couple of times these monsters can come in any form, shape, or size so I had to be ready.

I walked out searching my surroundings trying to find anything out of the ordinary. Finding nothing, I relaxed going over to the edge, and sat down but not so far where I can fall off.

Putting my knife in my belt sheath, I grabbed my pair of binoculars and my field Journal along with my pencil. I had sketched out all the monsters I had seen and wrote down their strengths and weaknesses.

Most importantly where they stay at so I make sure not to go there or cross paths with them on my runs. This is why I mostly go at night so they won't see me.

Flipping through the pages the images of the drawing Disturbed me a little. Even so, I was impressed with how detailed they turned out.

If shit didn't hit the fan I could have went to college to be an Art Major? Well, I guess that dream is over so I'm going to have to use it for this for now.

I frowned peering over the city with my binoculars in hand seeing the creatures climb the different buildings, some jumping on cars ripping the doors from the hinges dragging human belongings out.

One had a body of a human with a long extendable neck that had a huge eyeball attached to the top of it. The eyeball was appearing in front of windows staring inside them. That was the green roof apartment building. I started to sketch it out it being new to my notebook.

I figure the only way it could harm you is if it's a long body wrapped around you like a python and crush you to death if provoked. I wrote it down as it could be the only form of attack other than the human body it inhabited but not so much.

That was my routine going to sleep, eating, keeping hidden from monsters, trying to contain myself from turning into one of them, coming up here and looking over the city, and doing some new pages in my Field Guide.

My routine didn't change, and that's how I liked it. But I knew it wouldn't last for long so I prepared myself for the worst or at least trying to.

After a while of looking out at the city, it was time I had to go out on my run. Seeing I ate my last pack of kimchi noodles a day ago and my stomach was growling in hunger.

Getting up I had stuffed all my belongings in my bag hurrying to the elevator but stopped seeing what was in front of me. Its back was facing me thank God but I knew which monster it was.

It was the one that was tall with a slim figure that had its lower jaw and throat open up down to its chest. With a long like tongue that moved in different directions detecting ways to find its victim the suction cup on the end of it opened and closed.

Leaving a trail of its saliva and blood but I was pretty sure it could have been someones else's. Slowly getting on my hands and knees trying not to make a sound I took out my knife and crawled my way over to one of the air units and hide behind it.

Holding my weapon close to my chest I felt my heart in the pit of my stomach. Fear consumed me I hope and prayed that it didn't look or get a glimpse of me.

Just as my mind thought I was good its tongue shot out through the metal-air unit. Making me scream, I jumped out of the way with no choice but to go. It knew I was here.

Going back on my hands and knees I scrambled to get away but then felt its slimy tongue-like thing wrap around my legs dragging me away towards it.

I shook my head I wasn't going to end like this. I searched for my knife I had dropped on the ground, I tried to grab it having my fingers so close to the tip of the blade.

But it was no use when I had gotten jerked up. My body swaying from side to side. I felt like I was going to puke but nothing would come up except water.

I knew my face was turning red I felt all of my blood rush to my head. As The Monster Tounge slammed me down. Hearing my bones crunched as it made contact with the concrete.

I sucked in a breath, not able to scream. My vision began to blur this was how I was going to die I thought feeling being lifted back up and slammed down again.

This time it released my legs, I laid there not able to cry because I couldn't feel any pain at all. Maybe it was because of my adrenaline pumping?

I slowly opened my eyes seeing the monster walk towards me. I turned my head not wanting to look by the time it gets here. I hope I am gone so I don't have to watch it stab me and suck all my insides up.

I cringed at the thought, this has to be one of the worst ways to die. I would still be awake feeling it. I had to do something I just couldn't lay here?

But then I saw something that gave me a sliver of hope. I had an idea it was a stupid idea but if nothing else could kill this monster then I'm perfectly sure this will do the job!

•••

I don’t own the characters, story line or plot all the credits goes to the creators of this masterpiece Sweey home. Carnby Kim/ Youngchan Hwang

#sweet home #cha hyun su #kdramaedit #sweethomeedit #webcomic #webtoon #sweet home netflix #song kang #kdramaspace #kdrama spoilers #korean #korean show #sweet home spoilers #best shows of 2020 #love alarm #monsters

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breakfast-cereal · 3 years

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Stupid For You (2) -Johnlock

← ← MAIN MASTERLIST

← PART ONE

PART THREE

!¡Trigger Warning¡! DO NOT IGNORE!: mentions to drugs and addiction, alcohol use, vomiting, hints to declining/poor mental health.

Rosie's hair was in a slightly dishevelled braid that reached just above her shoulder blades

"Youtube seems to be helpful for tutorials. Slightly inaccurate, though." Sherlock looked as if he was about to write down notes.

"It's YouTube, Sherlock." John looked at Rosie who had a massive grin on her face

Rosie rushed to Sherlock and wrapped her arms around him. "Thank you, daddy!"

Sherlock didn't seem to protest and accepted the role of a father figure to Rosie. John was confused by this. If Sherlock was a father figure to Rosie wouldn't that insinuate that he and John were together? Does that not bother Sherlock?

"No problem." Sherlock ushered Rosie back to her room and then sat back down to work on the case.

John sat on the couch, sneaking glances at Sherlock while watching some sports game on the telly. He reached for his phone on the table and scrolled through it while watching the telly and concentrating on Sherlock. John was hoping this would have some distraction from his headache. The light from his phone just seemed to make the headache worse. John had opened google and was staring down at it. His headache was horrible and those confusing feelings had returned to plague his thoughts. Without thinking, John entered "John Watson and Sherlock Holmes" into the search bar and entered it. He looked around anxiously as if someone was going to pop out of any corner and catch him looking at this. The worst would be Sherlock. Results popped up raging from "Johnlock" blogs to articles describing their relationship. John clicked on the first article and skimmed it until reaching a part that specifically piqued his interest.

Sherlock Holmes and his partner John Watson's relationship is obviously less than platonic. Relationship expert, Tiffany Laines has confirmed multiple theories with her video "Debunking 'Johnlock'." Laines stated in her video that "Holmes and Watson are very close for just roommates. It seems it's Holmes&Watson rather than just Holmes and Watson. Based on body language queues, like the leaning in from Watson, and the way Holmes' colleagues described him as brash whereas it seems John does not find him that way. Can this mean Holmes treats Watson differently? Of course, we can never be sure with their limited interaction, but my speculation is something is going on."

John read over that paragraph multiple times. He read it for what felt like hours. He stared and analyzed it wanting to know what they meant. What the secret meaning could be even though the truth stared back at him. He wanted to throw his phone. Launch it across the room. Find whoever wrote that article and beat them. Instead, John put his phone down and made his way up to make some tea.

"Tea?" He asked into the air, hoping Sherlock would maybe answer.

"Yes, that'd be nice."

John prepared two cups and watched while the water boiled in the kettle. He listened to it fizz and at some moments John wondered if it would boil over. John could be compared to a kettle. He would fizz and bubble until he reached a point where he would just stop or boil over completely. John believed he was a calm individual, though he wasn't. It's hard being calm when you're rather vigilant all the time.

"I've got it!" John spun to see Sherlock pacing around the house frantically. "It was so obvious how could I have not gotten it!",

"What?",

"It's objects! The numbers were words and the words were objects. I've got a lead, John.",

"How did you manage to get that out of a sheet of numbers?" John was impressed. Well, not impressed, because Sherlock could solve a murder with his eyes closed and hands tied, but his skills were always impressive.

"It became quite obvious with hints. The necklace the woman had is a precious object so at first, I thought it could be something expensive, but there's nothing expensive in our flat. Yes, I'm assuming it is in our flat, as the woman left these papers in our flat rather than taking them to Mrs. Hudson, or some other person. Of course, maybe it's just because she was one to visit us, but with the pieces of paper originally the coordinates seemed to also have directions that were rather similar to the way to get into our flat. To sum it down simply, there's clues in certain objects in our flat." Sherlock seemed so animated when he talked about these things. He always strived for perfection and clarity on his cases and when he got it, it's like it sent him into a high. "Don't drink the tea, by the way.",

"What's wrong with the tea?" John felt overwhelmed with this information. There were hidden messages all over the flat. What if he stepped on one? Or got it wet?

"You added milk to yours. It's expired. Strange you pour the milk before the water." John looked at the milk in his cup that had small chunks in it and dumped it down the sink, sugar swirling down with it.

The kettle finished as John was there and he poured it into Sherlock's cup. He waddled over to Sherlock's desk and placed the tea, noticing the messy state of affairs. Sherlock's desk had papers all over it. The papers in the centre focus were the ones from the most recent case. One paper had computer, Jane Eyre, heart, written on it, while all the others remained blank.

"Heart?" John felt a strange feeling when Sherlock looked panicked. Sherlock looked like that word wasn't supposed to be written.

"Likely mistake. I don't know why that word is there. Stupid mistake." Sherlock quickly flipped over the paper and overemphasized the grab of the cup. "Go watch telly or something. I'm busy." John hated the way Sherlock would brush him off so easily. Even with living with him all these years he still couldn't brush off the hurt it caused. He wanted to get his mind off this, but his mind immediately went to drinks. With what John remembered happened last night, drinking was the last thing he wanted to do. So instead, John left the flat.

He walked the opposite way from the pub. His mind thought of one thing and one thing only; Sherlock. He felt like one of those articles as he speculated what heart could be. Does Sherlock have a secret photo album of Irene Adler? John was sure that Sherlock didn't have any human organs (they had cleaned all those out after John screamed at Sherlock over the fact that if Rosie ever found them she'd be terrified.) Was heart meaning that Sherlock's heart had been taken? Was he in love with someone? John felt a spike of jealousy and resent for whoever this person was. How dare they have Sherlock's heart. Why can't it be John? John paused internally. Why was John so jealous? He didn't like Sherlock. He never liked Sherlock. Sherlock was a friend, but friends don't get jealous over their friend's relationship because they want it to be them. Maybe John wanted Sherlock as a little more than a friend, but he only liked women. His brain was just being weird again. It's because he hadn't been with any women in a while. He just missed Mary, and Sherlock was the only person around that he could be with, so his brain was just skipping to conclusions. John needed to meet someone. There was one person that came to mind, the woman he had met on the bus. He had always wanted more and now was the time for that. He could unblock her number and text her. It would be something that has no strings attached. It will help John get his mind off Sherlock. He'll be able to realize his feelings were stupid.

When John was back at the flat he felt strange guilt. Like sending a text to this woman would be cheating on Sherlock. Sherlock wasn't romantically interested in John at all. John stared at his phone and the text that was sitting and waiting to be sent

Would you maybe want to meet up sometime this week?

John shut off his phone, he needed time to consider. He wasn't sure what he wanted. He wanted something. He wanted someone, but this just didn't feel right to him. She didn't feel right for him. He felt like he would be using her. He would use her to distract himself from his own problems. He didn't need a distraction he needed advice. He really needed advice. Who was he supposed to get advice from?

John sat at a small table with a pink linen table cloth on it. The chairs were rickety and felt as if they were going to fall apart any moment, whereas the table cloth looked pricey and was clearly good quality. It had ballerinas dancing on it, and could definitely be used as a small blanket.

"What are you here for, John?" Mrs. Hudson asked,

"I need some advice." John expected Mrs. Hudson to be the last person he went to, but there he was, sitting in her flat.

"Aw, did something go down between you and Sherlock?",

"No, no, that's not it. Well, I mean. I don't know." John wanted to smack his head into the desk. "I need advice on feelings."

"Oh, John," Mrs. Hudson sounded genuinely caring. Or maybe John just wanted her to care.

"I'm not in love, before you think I am. I'm just confused and I want advice.",

"Is it Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson knew before John. The articles knew before John. John realized with those words, that he was indeed stupid for Sherlock. He had to admit it to himself. He can't deny it all.

"I don't like men." Denial, denial, denial. All he did was deny. He had realized, but he wasn't going to acknowledge it. He may know, but if he ignores it, it's not real.

"I may be your landlady, but that doesn't make me oblivious." ,

"But I'm not-"

Mrs. Hudson interrupted him, "my advice is to stop denying it."

John pushed up from the table, shocked the chair didn't crumble. "I think that's enough advice for today." He hissed as he left the flat.

TAG LIST: @johnlocktrashsblog @ephemeraljimin @artefo @love-j0y

#johnlock #johnlock fanfic #john watson #sherlock holmes

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starrysebastians · 5 years

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painkillers and something more [one shot]

pairing : bucky barnes x reader

summary : lingering glances and subtle touches are fine, but all it takes is a little injury to turn whatever this is into something more

a/n : listen this one shot wasn't planned but i'm on antibiotics and painkillers right now and instead of letting myself die i wrote this . so basically hurt and comfort and fluff to end my suffering (mentions of injury)

word count : 1.8k

When the end credits of the movie he was watching ended and he didn't have the will to get up from his comfy position on the couch to grab the other remote and turn the TV off, so James Barnes is currently facing a beaming blue screen — has been for at least a whole hour. It makes a buzzing sound he has now gotten used to, because he kinda likes having a background noise to avoid facing the deep and abyssal silence being awake in the middle of the night always brings. Tonight wasn't particularly plagued with nightmares, but the previous ones, and months of recons and missions have messed up his sleeping schedule enough for him to finally take Sam's advice and watch the numerous movies he recommended him to catch-up on the 21st century culture.

His eyes are now focused on a book, one he found lying on a table, the bookmark next to it rather than in between the pages so he figured the person reading it was done. There's a shuffling coming from the hall that makes him perk up, the book closing on the finger he put between the pages.

Muffled voices, a groan, and it's getting closer.

"C'mon, let's get you on the couch. I'll get you your meds." Bucky identifies it as Sam's voice, although it is softer than it usually is when he's joking around, lighter than it is over the coms during a mission. It has the same he uses when he tries to comfort someone after innocent bystanders were a mission's collateral damages, or when Wanda has a nightmares. "Here."

The ceiling lamp flickers on, making the little reading lamp next to Bucky's couch useless. Even when he is wide awake, he usually likes staying in the dark when it's nighttime. It helps with schedules and not getting completely disoriented, seeing the sky go from purple and pink to dark blue splattered in white dots to soft orange and light blue. Artificial lightning all night long just messes with your mind.

Shifting in his seat so that he can turn his head and observe the hall leading to the living room — more like a living floor, by the way, he frowns upon you and Sam. Rather, Sam holding you by the waist, walking ever so slowly as if you were gonna collapse as soon as he let you go. Bucky stands up straighter, a million questions popping up in his head — were you on a mission? no, you had one that lasted longer than usual because Fury needed you and you returned two weeks ago, and all you did the past few days was help run recon, collect intel… nothing to get hurt over.

He and Sam share a look, and he's not quite sure what that expression on his face is.

"Here. Just lie down," Sam says with his soft voice again as you tumble on the couch, hands on the leather to steady you as you try and lay down as gently as possible. "I'll be right back." Another pointed look at Bucky, and this time he slowly rises from his seat, taking two hesitant steps.

It's not that you and him are not close — in fact, he would say you're one of the persons he likes the most here. You work with SHIELD, but also with them, it depends on the missions and he likes how you're free to work with any organisation you like. You're independent, and not often in the compound. He enjoys watching you work and fight because you're so skilled it's impressive for a normal, non-enhanced human being, but maybe it's just everything about you he deems worthy of being stared at all day long.

There has been different moments shared. Unwinding times in comfortable silence and missions aftermaths, bundled up in soft blankets in the living room or numbly sitting in the quinjet as it flew back towards the compound. Briefing sessions, some with too many things at stake to share a joke, others where you both shared smirks and twinkling looks. One where you accidentally bumped your leg against his, that time Steve was explaining how you were going to take down a weapon-dealing business, which is a pretty easy task for all of you, and you decided your leg was going to stay right here. You even made the wise decision of hooking your feet around his leg, the warmth emitting from your tangled legs making Bucky bite his lip in order to stop a smile from breaking out on his face. You didn't hide yours.

There are also times when you don't get to bump into each other for months. Exhausting months when you both are on missions, deep down undercover — especially you, because the winter soldier's face, albeit masks and tricks existing, is well-known, contrary to yours which has been well-protected by every intelligence agency you have served. During those months, sometimes you're scared he's going to forget about you and your fleeting glances ; he's scared you're too busy with work for him to ever cross your mind. And you never really talk, you both just flirt and smirk and wink and sometimes it feels like it has to evolve into something more, but it has always been enough.

But you're currently moaning from pain on the couch right next to him and his face hurts from frowning so hard.

"Hey, what's going on?"

Another two steps (strides) towards you, a hesitant hand hovering next to you, not knowing where to go to provide comfort without hurting you further. You turn your head toward the sound of his voice, painfully, and squint as if everything was blurry.

"Hi," you drawl out, a lazy smile on your face. "I missed you."

A flutter in the stomach, a soft and content sigh.

"I missed you too. What happened? I thought you didn't have any mission coming up?"

"I didn't," you say and he frowns. "Remember that undercover mission where I got shot last month?" He nods and you wince before continuing. His gaze falls on your hip, because he remembers that gunshot, a bit too well. "Well, maybe I didn't really follow the doctor's orders. I mean, I did. I just got back to work too early. But it wasn't that deep. Like a flesh wound. But, anyway." Another wince. "Turns out it got a little infected. So I'm back on antibiotics and painkillers for a week."

It physically hurts him too, to see your glazed and glossy eyes, constant frown and lips turned downwards, but he still chuckles at your rambling, and the fact that you couldn't stand to stay on bed rest for more than two days. He crouches down next to you, pushing a strand of hair out of your eyes because you've been trying to get rid off it for the past minute by blowing air on it, but it just doesn't work.

"Yeah well please try and listen, next time," Sam's voice is back, and you just know he rolled his eyes. The sound of boxes and a glass clinking against the table can be heard, and he lays a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "Here's the doctor's prescription. Antibiotics, painkillers, water. She probably won't sleep tonight." He crouches down too, a hand resting on her forearm. "I'm gonna let Tin Man here keep you company, alright? If I don't wake up for training tomorrow, Steve is gonna have my head."

You hum distractedly as you watch Bucky fumble with the prescription and meticulously prepare your pills, tongue stuck out as his blue eyes are squinted. Cleaning out his weapons probably doesn't require as much attention and care, and you can't help but laugh at his expression. A super-soldier, being able to aim at an enemy's head without even sparing him a glance, but putting so much effort into getting your meds right, and it makes your chest swell with something you can't quite place, but it's warm, definitely warm. Burning. He perks up at the sound of your laugh, only to send you a glare, and then a few seconds later he proudly hands you the right amount of pills.

"Thank you," you say with a smile, a hand lingering a bit too long on his skin. He helps you get propped up against the cosy and snug cushions and while you take your meds, he's busy finding you a soft and fluffy blanket, resting it on top of you.

"Here." He's sitting next to you again, leaning more and more every time you let a groan escape your lips.

"Would you mind knocking me off so I can sleep?"

An amused chuckle but a fond movement of the head, from left to right.

"You weren't sleeping?" You talk again.

He shakes his head again. "Nah. I was catching up on Sam's movie recommendation list."

"Can you put something on?"

It takes you ten minutes to decide on Blade Runner, and in fear of hurting you, he slides down against the couch again, his head thrown back a little and you can see his face if you look down, the colors displayed on the TV screen dancing across his soft and tired features. He's just so pretty.

You extend your left arm, and it is dangling from the couch, fingers softly brushing Bucky's shoulders. Scratching his neck, his ear. Running through his shiny locks, the smell of his shampoo invading your senses. He cranes his neck backwards to get a better look at you, and he notices your smile and the glinting in your eyes from upside down. You hum as his flesh hand grab yours, thumb stroking your skin. He lets it rest on his shoulder again, putting his attention back to the movie playing in front of him.

It takes another twenty minutes of gentle fingers running on his skin, insistent staring at his neck, back muscles, hair and shoulders, for you to talk again, painkillers having kicked in.

"Please come and lie with me. You're not gonna hurt me," your voice can't compete with the fight scene on screen, but you're leaning right next to his ear, and if he doesn't move for a second, he certainly heard you. "Hold me?"

This is the something more you have both been yearning for. There wasn't any moment that was right before, but this one is.

It takes a few minutes for the two of you to find a position that doesn't hurt your hip, lots of groans and painful winces. But then you're lying between his legs, back resting against his toned abdomen, head nestled in the crook of his neck with strands probably tickling his skin but he doesn't say anything because he likes the smell of your shampoo too, and he's warmer than the blanket.

That something more, the next step in a dynamic based on small smiles across the quinjet and subtly tangled legs, is going to have to wait until you don't have to ingest the highest dose of painkillers humanly possible to move without wincing, but it is there. Hanging in the air, waiting to be seized. In the way Bucky holds you, runs the back of his flesh hand up and down your arm, and softly kisses your neck.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #marvel one shot #hurt/comfort one shot #bucky barnes fluff

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