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themarginalthinker · 4 months

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Dear Fellow Traveler

There are other vampires in the world, and the world itself is a big, big place. David takes a little trip.

Sooo......this is an odd one. Basically so far outside of Lost Boys canon it almost isn't anymore, but it's also a small look into some vampire worldbuilding Berd and I have done. David knows people outside of his pack, and they know him. (They certainly know Max, and that's not a good thing.)

Anyway, here you go. Enjoy?

It's not hard to find what you're looking for if you know what to look for.

David meanders down the streets of a late-night San Jose. The place hadn't changed too much since his last visit, a couple years ago. Marko and Paul hadn't been wrong - it was a city of many people, from all over. Most of California seemed like that.

San Jose was not Santa Carla, however. Few places were, David would give it that. Further inland, the air didn't hold salt and brine anymore, wasn't thick with humidity that gripped the scent of whatever organic life passed through it.

The blood here was of a different kind. Smeared on concrete thick with grit and dust. In the ash of smoke from things rolled into cigarettes that even Paul likely hadn't had the time to try all of.

David follows it. It makes no attempts to hide itself.

Humans couldn't smell it, after all.

It takes him past downtown - predictably. Hunting grounds for those with the charm, the grace to stalk the nightclub and bar, and for those without, plenty of pickings in the back alleys and unfortunates sleeping on park benches and bus routes. But one never mixed supper with sleep, and David veered off that path, following the one laid out. He glances up, to the side of a bricked up building. There were less businesses here, tucked away in second-story lofts and between condemned flats. He finds what he expects to see:

A tag, small enough to not draw the eye, in faded brown, sealed below disguising black paint. A calaveras, its grinning teeth showing points at the canines, and the moon in pretty, decorated swirls at its bone forehead.

He'd been following the trail for the last hour. The blood was getting fresher.

The streets are darker out here. Less cars, and those that do pass him are beaters at best. Spaces between buildings are trash heaps, massive junk piles. Sometimes, he thinks he sees something darting out of view when he looks up to the glassless windows of a building. Senses a shift in the air as he passes along a certain way, avoiding the scattered streetlights.

Finally, he comes to a stop.

A warehouse, utterly dilapidated, stretching along before a huge chunk of abandoned manufacturing factory property. Surrounded on all sides by the rusting, decaying waste of metal, the exoskeleton of a once-great beast twisted and scattered to and fro. The back end of it even caving in - but.

If one looked, one could see details in the dark. If one could see in the dark.

Certain places in the roof, patched over with welded bits of sheet metal. Open spaces in the sides, to same. Holes stoppered up. David himself stood before a door to an entryway that used to lead to offices inside, or at least a coatroom of sorts - but the door wasn't just barred with lock and key, no. The hinges had been welded shut to match the patched holes in the roof. To the side, little windows, and behind them nothing but a wall of cinderblocks. One couldn't force their way inside if they tried.

Etched into the glass of one of those windows, another little sugar skull design. Sharp teeth. Moon at its forehead.

"It hasn't been that long, Williams. Can't have forgotten where the front door is."

David smiles, and it's sharp.

"No, it hasn't, and no, I haven't. I was just waiting for a proper welcome, is all."

David doesn't know their real name.

Vampires who headed clan hubs rarely needed them, or kept them for long after they took the position.

The vampire who greeted him outside was shorter than David, thinner shoulders, smaller over all, but their face hard set. Copper skin warm even in the darkness, their crow black hair cut short up the back, held in a wolftail with a leather cord.

The leather wasn't animal.

Their clothing was a little more familiar style - not quite the wild fancies of the Boardwalks and the coast with its warm winds and wiles, but something that seemed to fade into the mechanical park above them. Faded denim jacket, bleached into curling, skeletal markings. Lines of fine beadwork amid the torn jeans and hole-riddled long sleeve shirt. Thick boots that had seen more wear and repairs than any sane person would think to use to keep them in working order.

Some of that leather wasn't animal either.

They had brought David down in a new way. A way David, in truth, didn't know. He'd been correct in saying that he'd known the literal doors to the building weren't the way inside, but apparently the real entrance had moved since last he'd come to San Jose. Just before the entrance to the warehouse wasteland, there was a small, unassuming grate laid into the foundations of what would have been a runnoff channel. It came out with only a small application of superhuman strength, and the pair had slipped down - guests first.

The crawl space of a concrete pipe had turned into a constructed tunnel, leading to a basement room where they came up through the floor. Into the clan grounds proper.

David had asked about that, as they climbed the stairs up to the main level, the floor of the half-collapsed warehouse - an aesthetic choice, or a necessity?

"Just young idiots, making noise," the Clan Vamp said.

"Bad enough to warrant a doorman?" David had asked with a raised eyebrow.

The Clan Vamp's smile is thin. "Enough to know you were here when you crossed city limits.

Well, shit.

"This place really has gone to the dogs," David tuts.

"Was it ever anywhere else?"

They exchange smiles - with teeth. Not full teeth, for David's words were not said with malice, and the reply not given in offense. But a flash of fangs to let the other know a boundary had been met. Eye to eye.

They finish climbing the steps from the basement level, and step out into the clan grounds.

In the center of the huge, open space, three fires in low bins flickered. Enough to cast long, dark shadows on the tall walls stretching high above. All around, curtains hung from rafters, some still in their original place, and others torn down and twisted about to form more private quarters. Strings of fairy lights wound through it all, here and there, in mismatched areas of pillows and mattresses, true nests. Further back, in the darker corners, hung bodies, close together or further apart. Those who preferred to roost rather than sleep flat.

Around the fires, similarly were a few groups of couches and chairs and lounges, scattered messes of more places to lay and sit.

And people were sitting. Voices filtered through the air now, shifting like the firelight. Low tones, among groups of twos and threes, occasionally someone taking off to roost in the rafters, or return to the privacy of a nest. Snatches of music came and went, as someone somewhere in the mess tuned a radio.

David takes it all in.

"Is the party over?" He asks the Clan Vamp, nodding at the...somewhat quiet night. He remembers what it was like the last time he came.

They glance at him, a long look full of many emotions, before walking forward, David in tow.

"Sure. Since el caballo de caza decided to come around."

David braces himself.

"How many lost?" He asks quietly.

The Clan Vamp didn't answer right away. They come to a couch, low slung in the age of its use, and they sit themselves down, sinking into a corner of it with familiar ease. They gesture for David to take the opposite end, and he does. Above their heads, in the rafters, the radio is finally tuned, and something slow, melodic and heavy in the bass guitar plays.

The firelight dances across the Clan Vamp's features as they reach into their pockets, pulling out a paper carton. They take two hand-rolled cigarettes, and light one in the flame of the bin fire. They use that to light the other. They hand one to David, who takes it, and draws.

It's not fully tobacco, and David recognizes the taste of familiar drugs, and something unique he's not likely to find anywhere else.

It's a few long minutes of silence, between them. Enjoying the smoke, the amiable air.

Finally, with a flick of a finger to rid the tip of the fag of ash where it puddles on the concrete floor, the Clan Vamp speaks.

"Three packs gone, all come here from Reno. One because they both wanted the same hunting ground, wouldn't listen to negotiation. Other two because the fighting drew line of fire from Hunters."

Loud, young idiots indeed.

The Clan Vamp's unoccupied fingers drum a steady beat on their own thigh. They lick their teeth.

"Lost a childe."

David blinks.

He looks to them. Their dark eyes weren't on him, or the rest of the clan grounds. Rather, they'd focused on the fire, almost transfixed. Their mind elsewhere. Distant.

"Shit," he says flatly.

"No one you knew," they say with a shrug.

David takes another draw of smoke, holding it, letting it curl through him. Watching his own long exhale billow upwards into the dark ceiling. A pair of bodies flitted through the space, unnaturally fast, unnaturally quiet. The pair of vampires above giggling to themselves as they moved about. David's eyes came back down.

As if the knowing mattered.

David thinks about Paul, staying back with Marko, despite the two of them knowing he was going tonight. Wanting to come. Knowing they couldn't.

He thinks about them being here, if...something happened.

"You gonna stay long?" They ask him at length.

David's mouth twists into a grimace he can't quite pass off as a smile.

"Daddy would get worried," he answers.

The Clan Vamp barks a laugh, low and humorless. "Damn. Thought you might'a come out here to tell me some good news, Williams."

"Nope," David drawls, popping the 'p'. "Same as it always was. He's opened a fucking business."

"No kidding."

"Mm. Actual, legitimate thing. Videos and TVs and all that junk. Makes a killing, apparently."

Another laugh between them, only a little bit lighter.

"How long you think he's got?" The Clan Vamp asks, sucking down the last of their cigarette.

David huffs, leaning further back into the couch.

"For as long as the Devil's got patience."

"La bendición."

David grins. It's only a little dulled.

#the lost boys #drabbles #vampire worldbuilding #vampire culture #xenoculture #this one is such an excuse to do gratuitous scenery description it's not even funny lmao

10 notes · View notes

mizunetzu · 3 years

Note

wait okay i have so many ideas you have no clue- okay so basically y/n is too scared to confess to either ushijima or shinsou (you decide lol) so he just puts love notes in his locker :)) but ushijima/shinsou catches him one day so he teases him about it but he liked y/n too so he lowkey confesses and its super fluffy i- 🥺🥺 i've had this idea for so long but i have no clue where to start writing it myself lolll

Guess who...took 4 months...to do Mr. Shinsoussimps request...not me...ahahaha...what are you talking about...BUT ANYWAYS IM SO SORRY MR SHINSOU PLS TAKE THIS FIC AS MY APOLOGIES

——————

Ushijima x reader - Secret Admirer Love Letter-kun!

⚠️warnings - none

Pronouns- male, he/him

——————

(Y/n’s) hands shook as he traced the linings of his love letter.

It had a red, heart-shaped sticker on the seal flap, with the words ‘To Ushijima-san’ written in royal purple across the back. The letter had slight crinkles from the shaky grip (Y/n) held it with.

His heart raced purely thinking about how Ushijima would react. Would he even react? Or would he just look at him with that blank stare and walk past him? Would he be ridiculed for being a man giving a love letter to another man?

Every single intrusive thought made (Y/n) want to tear up the letter and flush it down a toilet. Nonetheless, he stood next to Ushijima’s locker, waiting for him to appear.

His legs shook. His heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest. He could physically feel the sweat running down his forehead. He was probably gaining stares from other students for standing near Ushijima’s locker and panicking silently.

All these ‘what-if’s’ was beginning to make (Y/n) second-guess his decision. Maybe he couldn’t do this after all...

No! He had to! He’s been harboring his feelings for Ushijima for years now, and he was getting nowhere! Even if it was rejection, and he certainly hoped it was not, he needed an answer!

Just as if right on cue, (Y/n) heard the familiar deep voice of Ushijima coming down the hall. He wasn’t saying much, but the accompanied grunts of acknowledgement to Tendou’s ramblings was enough proof it was him. Without thinking, (Y/n’s) panic took over him, shoving his love letter into Ushijima’s locker and dashing out of the way.

He blended himself in with the gaggle of students near their lockers, watching Ushijima as he opened his own locker.

“Ara?” Tendou cocked his head when the letter (Y/n) slipped in fluttered out. It landed on the floor gracefully. Ushijima bent over and plucked it off the ground.

“Our Wakatoshi~kun has a secwet admiwer?” Tendou squashed his face together and boared curious eyes into the heart-shaped sticker on the note. Ushijima grunted.

“It seems to be a love letter.” Ushijima’s low voice sent even more panic through (Y/n). He didn’t want to be there while he opened the letter. But here he was, 10 feet away from him as he carefully peeled off the heart sticker from the envelope.

Ushijima’s eyes silently scanned the letter, it’s meticulous, thought-out writing filling Ushijima’s eyes. The silence rang so, so loud to (Y/n), as he watched Ushijima read his love letter with his emotionless face.

After what seemed like forever, Ushijima lifted his head up from the note. (Y/n’s) heart stopped.

“It is a love letter.” (Y/n), and Tendou, deadpanned.

Tendou reached for the letter. “Fiiiiine, then let me see-!”

Ushijima pulled the letter away, raising it above his head and out of Tendou’s easy reach. He lowered the letter and cradled it to his chest.

“No. It’s mine.”

(Y/n’s) heart fluttered. Could this mean-?

“But it does, however, have no name.”

“Awh. Poor Wakatoshi-kun’s admirer must be rewwy shy~”

(Y/n) internally facepalmed. Of course he forgot to sign the note! Why wouldn’t he?! (Y/n) crinkled up his nose. He was still determined to get his feelings to Ushijima.

He turned around, and walked to class. The next day, for sure, he was going to give him a love letter with his signature on it this time.

——

(Y/n) stared down at his paper, then shifted his eyes to the alarm clock sitting tauntingly at his dorm room’s desk, with the bright red numbers 10:35 pm glaring so menacingly at him. Like it was telling him to hurry up and sign the new love letter he just wrote. (Y/n) re-read the letter on his desk for the 6th time that night.

Everything was perfect. It explained his feelings perfectly, explained how long he’d been smitten for him for, hell, he even doodled a small picture of Ushijima himself with a heart next to it in the corner of the page.

Everything was there, except his name.

Did he really want to put his name, though? I mean, (Y/n) saw how...endearing Ushiwaka’s face looked reading his original letter. What if he ruined that when he finds out it was him who wrote it? And not some cute girl?

(Y/n) stared at the empty space on the page where his name was supposed to go. His hand gripped his pencil tighter than he should’ve, and began to write.

‘(L/n) (Y/...’

He stopped. (Y/n) thought about it for awhile, then grabbed his eraser and scrubbed at the name until it was pristine white again.

‘Your secret admirer’

Was all he wrote.

He packaged up the note in another small envelope, pressed a cute little heart sticker to the flap, and went to bed.

——

The next day, (Y/n) made sure to rush to school early to slip the note in his locker. He wanted to see his reaction to his new note. It made him feel sorta high. What kind of face would he make? Would he be delighted? He hoped he would.

(Y/n) crammed the note into Ushiwaka’s locker. No one was around. Good. No one saw him shove the letter through, therefore no one could tell Ushijima it was him. (Y/n) sighed contently, and timpered off somewhere secluded, but somewhere he could still see Ushijima and his locker.

After scrolling on his phone for what seemed like an hour, he heard Tendou’s familiar voice, humming a strange song and trailing next to Ushijima. It was his daily indicator that Ushijima was near. If he could hear Tendou coming, almost 100% Ushijima would be there too. (Y/n) pocketed his phone quickly and peeked behind a row of lockers.

Ushijima silently unhinged his locker, listening to Tendou talk. However, they fell silent when another letter fluttered out from his locker, this time landing so perfectly in his hands.

“Ara ara? Another note from Admirer-chan?”

“Yes. But I know it’s a boy, Tendou.”

(Y/n’s) heart dropped. He watched as Ushiwaka peeled off the heart sticker once more, while continuing his conversation with Tendou.

“Oh yeah? How so?”

Ushijima stopped, and reached into his locker once more. He pulled out (Y/n’s) previous note, and pointed to a line of text scribbled on there so neatly. Tendou raised his eyebrow, and leaned down to inspect the note.

‘-Besides, there’s no way someone as amazing as you can like a guy like me. It’s weird right? I hope you don’t think it’s weird. But I wouldn’t blame you.’

“Ahhhh~ makes sense...” Tendou hooked his arms dramatically over the back of his head. “But do you? Does Wakatoshi-kun think Secret Admirer-kun is weird?”

Ushijima traced the two love letters with his eyes. “I think he’s brave.”

(Y/n) clutched his tightening chest. It suddenly became really hard to breathe. How was Ushijima being so unintentionally sweet?

Tendou cooed. “Awwww, Is our Wakatoshi-kun catching feelings for his Admirer-kun?”

Ushijima folded the two notes back into their envelopes silently. He said nothing to Tendou’s remarks, while gently placing the two love letters back into a safe spot in his locker.

(Y/n) brisk-walked away, flustered, before he could hear his answer.

——

Writing notes and hiding them in Ushijima’s locker became a sort of habit for (Y/n) in the past few weeks.

Every now and then, he’d write a short love letter signed “Your Secret Admirer” or “Admirer-kun” and slip it under Ushijima’s dorm room door or the cracks between his locker. It became an addiction of watching him unravel the note with the tenderness of an angel. For such a big dude, he held each love letter (Y/n) wrote him with such delicacy.

(Y/n) walked with a pep in his step as he arrived to the school building early, like he’d usually been doing. He’d recently been writing small letters, playground compliments like “I think you look nice today!” or “the way you play volleyball gets me all fired up!” but this was the first time in a while he wrote a good chunk of his feelings out.

At first he thought he would make Ushijima uncomfortable, but after many of his personal notes filled with the most wonderful explanations of his feelings, or rambling about dates he’d like to take him on, he’s grown more comfortable with it. Especially after seeing the teeny tiny, barely noticeable blush tinting his cheeks as he read them.

(Y/n) stopped in front of Ushiwaka’s locker. It was a familiar stop, after cramming in letter after letter inside for about a month or two now. It’s been so long that (Y/n) couldn’t even remember himself.

Just as his hand met with the cold metal locker to slip the note in, two hands slammed down on (Y/n’s) shoulders, effectively scaring him shitless.

“I’ve caught you! Secret admirer-kun!”

“Uwaaaah!”

Tendou made a show of flamboyantly pointing his lanky fingers at (Y/n), bending his back father then (Y/n) knew was possible in the process. (Y/n) jittered, swinging his hands in front of him while stuttering incoherently.

“I-it-its not-! It’s not wh-what it-! T-the letter-I was just-I-!”

“There’s no use for it now, Secret-Admirer (L/n)-kun! You’ve been caught red handed!” Tendou stuck his tongue out heartily while (Y/n) broke into a cold sweat. If Tendou kept yelling the whole damn school would hear him.

“I-I’m not the one leaving notes in Ushijima-kun’s locker! I was just-!”

“Oya? Then how did you know Wakatoshi-kun was gettin’ notes in his locker in the first place?” Tendou eyed him down half jokingly. (Y/n) sputtered.

“More importantly...” Tendou dramatically pointed to the envelope half-sticking out from the slits of Ushijima’s locker. “Whaaaaats that!?”

“That’s-!”

There was no use fighting Tendou on this. (Y/n) deflated, defeated and grasping on to the wall of lockers for support. “Uuuuu...”

“So, Secret Admirer-“

“S-stop calling me that! Just (L/n) is fine-!”

“-Secret Admirer-kun, what made you fancy our lovely Wakatoshi-kun?”

(Y/n) turned around, facing the locker as Tendou smiled his usual, Tendou-grin. (Y/n) didn’t wanna look at Tendou and his stupid knowing smirk.

“He’s just...I dunno, he’s just so-cool...and stuff...and he’s so nice...looking...”

“Ah, such sophisticated words-tell me, do you write all of this down in the letters you give him?”

“Hey!” (Y/n) whipped his head around.

Tendou chuckled, and part of (Y/n) wanted to smack him upside the head. Tendous laughter eventually died down, as he pretended to wipe a tear from his cheek. He looked back at (Y/n), who was blushing profusely and had his arms crossed.

“Phew...haha...” Tendou cleared his throat. He pointed straight at (Y/n). “Now, here’s some ultra wise words from Satori-sama!” He mimicked a fake drum roll on his lap, before pointing at (Y/n) again.

“Ja-jun~! You should Wakatoshi-kun how you feel about him!”

(Y/n’s) heart got stuck in his throat. “A-are you crazy! I could never! I-I’m not...I’m not...I’m scared..”

“Hm? But you’re not scared to write about how much you wanna kiss him alllllllll oveeeeeer-?”

“That’s different!” (Y/n) yelled, more quietly this time. He turned back to the locker, and tipped the rest of the note in sticking out inside the slit. The note disappeared through the gap, just like all of its predecessors. “Like this, I can tell him how much I love him without him knowing it was from me! What if he’s disappointed it’s me and not some other dude?”

“I’m veeeeeery sure he won’t be. But suit yourself, I guess.” Tendou shrugged. He turned around and left, but not before saying,

“But you’d better tell him yourself before he finds out from someone else.”

“Wait-what does that mea-“

(Y/n) looked back, only to find Tendou gone. (Y/n) stood there, perplexed, before dashing off to his own locker, so he wouldn’t be spotted near Ushijima’s.

——

Everyday when (Y/n) went to slip another note into Ushiwaka’s locker, Tendou’s words would ring in his mind.

‘You’d better tell him yourself before he finds out from someone else.’

He knew that. He knew that but he couldn’t stop himself from cowardly slipping notes into Ushijima’s locker, just to run and take cover as he opened them up. And one time he could swear Tendou was looking right at him in his hiding spot when Ushijima was reading one of his letter.

(Y/n) shook the thoughts from his head. That happened 3 days ago, and nothing happened. Tendou was probably just trying to scare him into telling him. Yeah. There’s no way anyone could’ve found out about him being Ushijima’s secret admirer.

He huffed and strode up to Ushijima’s locker, just like he did every time before that. No one was in the hallway. There was no footsteps, at least to (Y/n’s) knowledge, and Tendou wasn’t around with his booming voice. If (Y/n) could hear Tendou coming, chances are Ushijima was not too far behind.

Tendou wasn’t there. (Y/n) was safe. He smiled and rose the letter up to the slot in Ushijima’s locker. He slowly crammed the note in, slowly, slowly until-

Slam!

A large, calloused hand slammed against the locker, making (Y/n) jolt up in surprise. (Y/n’s) heart stopped beating. He felt someone lean against his ear, and then they whispered:

“So Tendou was right. You were the one leaving the letters in my locker.”

“Ushijima-kun-!”

(Y/n) whipped his head around by the speed of lightning, pressing himself against the locker wall as if he’d disappear into it. Stupid fucking Tendou! Of course he’d tell Ushijima!

Ushiwaka didn’t move from his spot in front of (Y/n). His arm outstretched on the wall beside (Y/n) didn’t falter either, making him blush even more. God, he wanted to disappear.

The letter, now hidden crudely behind (Y/n) sweaty back, was being smushed as he tried shrinking in on himself.

“I-I-“ (Y/n’s) mouth ran dry. “It’s not what it looks like-!”

“Hm.” Ushijima’s deep voice manage to startle (Y/n), despite being right infront of him. God, he was close. So close. He’s too close. Oh god, why is he so close?

Ushijima suddenly grabbed (Y/n’s) hand, making him sputter in surprise as Ushijima pulled it out gently. A letter with a red heart sticker on the flap was wedged in between (Y/n’s) shaky, sweaty fingers. Ushijima looked at the envelope, while (Y/n) averted his embarrassed eyes.

“...But it’s exactly what it looks like.”

Words perished in (Y/n’s) throat. If the locker would just open up and swallow him whole, now was the time.

Ushiwaka plucked the note out of (Y/n’s) hands, ignoring the small protests of (Y/n) himself. He tried to grab for the letter, but Ushijima held the envelope high above his head and grabbed at (Y/n’s) shivering wrists. (Y/n) squeaked.

“...why are you trying to grab it back if this letter was meant for me in the first place?” Ushijima looked oblivious to (Y/n’s) embarrassment. (Y/n) croaked. He didn’t even register what Ushiwaka said with how strong and warm his grip on his wrists were.

He didn’t realize Ushijima managed to peel off the heart sticker and fish out the note with his hand until he started reading the letter. His eyes scanned the words, even when (Y/n) quietly squirmed protestingly in his grasp.

“Mm.” Ushijima hummed. (Y/n’s) eyes widened when he realized what he wrote in today’s note.

‘Y’know, I think you’re really cool with how you’re so dedicated to your club. But maybe...one day we could grab a bite to eat after your club activities? Just you and me? And maybe if I’m lucky enough I just might get a kiss from the amazing Ushijima Wakatoshi-kun~’

(Y/n) wanted no more but to die then and there. Ushijima looked at (Y/n) with an unreadable gaze.

“Ah. So it seems in today’s letter, you would like to go out for food and kiss. I am free after club activities today at 6. Are you free at that time or must we reschedule?”

(Y/n) met Ushijima’s state with a confused face. He said nothing-he couldn’t say anything. All he could do was muster up a weak “w-wha..?”

“So...you are not free today...?” Ushijima’s face was normal, but he gave off the same vibe a sad, kicked puppy would. It was sorta cute. (Y/n) waved his hands around frantically in Ushijima’s grasp.

“N-no! That’s not it! I-I’m free! I’m totally free! I just-“

“You just what?” Ushijima cocked his head to the side bluntly. (Y/n) opened his mouth to say something, but let it clamp shut quietly.

(Y/n) averted his gaze. “Well...you don’t think it’s...weird that I was the one leaving you love letters?”

“But I already knew you were a man in the first place.”

“Still!” Ushijima was genuinely confused. (Y/n’s) voice died down a bit.

“Aren’t you...y’know...disappointed?”

Ushijima’s gaze never left (Y/n’s) eyes. “Why would I be disappointed?”

“I’m...w-well...it’s just...”

Ushiwaka placed his free hand on the other side of (Y/n’s) face, effectively trapping him in between his arms. Ushijima’s heavy gaze was too much to bear. (Y/n) instinctively averted his gaze away.

“You still haven’t given me a valid reason to be disappointed.”

“I-“

“You’re lovely, I believe you are very attractive, and you leave nice letters of encouragement in my locker everyday.”

“Wait-“

“I believe we both have feelings for each other. Therefore, I do not see why you are so hesitant on just doing what today’s lovely note said.”

“Ushi-“

“Is this just an excuse to turn me down? Were the letters not your true feelings? Because if so you just have to say so-“

“Ushijima-kun!”

(Y/n) rasped out between his fingers. He was covering his blushing face, and Ushijima didn’t know why until he realized his face was centimeters away from (Y/n’s). If it weren’t for (Y/n’s) hands cupping his face, they’d probably be able to kiss with one push closer.

“P-ple-please s-step back...”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Ushijima moved back, but didn’t quite move his arms from their positions on either side of (Y/n). He blinked. Silence engulfed them both, Ushijima bluntly staring at (Y/n) as he blushed and blushed into his hands.

Ushijima figured he should say something, and even open his mouth to speak when (Y/n) suddenly piped up, bringing his hands down from his face.

“I-I’m free...at 6...”

Ushijima blinked again.

“Ah. Today?”

“Yeah..!”

“Lovely. It is decided then. Will you wait for me at the gym after practice? If not I can pick you up from your dorm room.”

(Y/n) fought the urge to pinch his arm to see if he was dreaming or not. “I-I can meet you at the gym!”

Ushijima smiled gently, and that’s probably the first time (Y/n’s) seen him smile ever. It was so coaxing, relaxed and warm, (Y/n) wanted to take of picture of it and just stare at it for days. Ushijima let his hands fall to his sides. Not before giving a pat to (Y/n’s) head.

“It is decided then. It’s a date.”

(Y/n) had to remind himself to thank Tendou later.

——————

Lowkey this was so fun to write~ why don’t y’all leave some love in the comments because of that~~?

#ushiwaka x male reader #ushijima x male reader #wakatoshiushijima #ushijima wakatoshi #ushy gushy #hq x y/n #hq x male reader #hq ushijima #hq x reader #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu x reader #ushijima x you #ushijima x reader #ushijima x y/n #mr shinsoussimp

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dancing-the-hellfire-rumba · 4 years

Text

I’ll Tell You My Sins (So You Can Sharpen Your Knife)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst! A lot! (ends in fluff tho), canon typical violence, briefly mentioned and very vaguely descried torture, blackmailing.

Word Count: eight fucking thousand words what the fuck

Summary: Reader hides important information about her past from both Steve and Bucky, causing serious damage to their relationships with her. When Bucky’s severely (likely fatally) hurt, the Reader tries to finally do what’s right.

Beta: @walkingaline and I genuinely couldn’t have done it without her. She’s the sweetest fuckin person.

A/N: I’ve dedicated my life to this for two weeks, and it’s positively the longest one-shot I’ve ever written. I’m rather proud of how it turned out, and the feelings I got to explore. Would really love to know what you think!

It’s- vines, climbing up her organs, endless, crawling, and overflowing, thorns stuck inside her skin, digging in, and the breaths come shorter, clipped, chest weighted. There’s no alleviating this pressure, this overwhelming whirlwind of emotions, chaotic, heavy and filthy, slimy and awful.

The rumble of her engine, a loud interruption to her vicious thoughts, digging their claws inside her eyes, filling them with tears. The world is blurry, but the vibration- it's a welcome distraction. Familiar and strong, her motorcycle drives her at this point, muscle memory leading to the Compound, tears flying off her face by the whipping wind.

She’s booking it. Time barely registers. It’s somewhere between lashing thoughts and trembling fingers that the off-white building rises between the trees, overwhelming and tall, glinting lights always on, no matter the time of night. Somewhere between gasping, fast breaths and stuttering heartbeats that she throws the bike to park and runs, fast passes every lock with her ID and forgoes the elevator, knowing full well that the adrenaline thrumming in her veins will carry her up the stairs faster.

Shoes as if weighed by rocks, she feels slow, stuck in mud almost, liquid cement, sinking, drowning in quicksand as she rounds the corner and- Steve’s there, arms crossed over his chest, busted bottom lip pursed with his top one, a deep sigh swelling his chest. His hair is longer than the last time she saw him, he looks battered and bruised, and she’s known him for years- she can read his face clear as day. And as situations like this always have him, she knows, in the clench of his jaw, the statue-still set of his eyebrows, in his stony posture; he’s as worried as he is determined.

The phone call had been rushed.

She shouldn’t have heard it, about to jump in her shower, had she not forgotten her towel on her bed. Naked, feet padding on her plush rug, she digs in her bedside table for her usually silent device. It’s Steve, and she hasn’t heard from him in nearly a month and a half. Instantly she knows something isn’t right.

There’s only so many seconds it takes for the words to sink in, words like “mission went wrong”, and “hurt”, and “won’t make it”, and “Bucky”. Soon she’s pulling on clothes at lightning speed like the universe depends on it, shower be damned. Keys, jacket, helmet forgone, tears stream down her face as if she’s already lost him, bike kick-started because what else is there to do but be there.

And now? She’s here. And she feels foreign and bizarre, stepping in a space that she barely belongs in anymore. It’s sorta how she imagines entering an old house that’s now inhabited by new residents feels like- it feels the same, but in the same way it feels all too different, strange and foreign; revisiting an old life that’s been made into a new one for someone else.

It really doesn’t matter though, does it? Because she’s not here for herself- not for Fury, not Steve, not for the Avengers, or the missions. She’s here- she’s here for him.

Steps even slower now, approaching the Captain himself, very much aware of her knotted shoulders, her shaking hands. It’s evident, suddenly, in his posture that he knows she’s there. His shoulders stiffen just this bit more, and with a breath with which his chin raises a notch, he turns to see her. One foot behind the other, and he moves out the way, letting her in his spot in front of the window of the room Bucky is in-

A gasp.

Time finally stops.

Unrecognizable. Buried under wounds and bruises, endless tubes- her lost boy, James, Bucky. Tears fall at a new speed, and she allows this moment of vulnerability in front of Steve, allows herself to cover her mouth, her expression crumples, her tears flow freely, and- despite being mad at her, despite having patches to mend (if they can even be mended anymore), Steve is there, solid as always, with a hand on her shoulder, urging her in his arms. Old friendships die slowly, she thinks bitterly, and sinks in the comfort, eyes unable to be torn from the sight before her.

It takes some time, a good chunk of it, to compose herself, to part from Steve’s warmth and wipe the wetness off her cheeks. She wraps her arms around her front and shakes.

“We got ambushed,” he murmurs, and the statement is heavy. There’s guilt, sorrow, she’s sure it’s not fun to recall. “My fault. Didn’t know they were that many, must’ve had false info. Barely got to get him out of there.” She shudders. The image is loud and clear in her mind; Steve limping with the leg he’s currently not leaning on, busted and bleeding, carrying an unconscious Bucky, blood dripping from his mouth. She flinches.

“Can I-“ hesitation. A deep breath, shoulders squaring, remembering she no longer asks, she states. “I want to go in.” Steve stares for a second, calculating, thinking, looks back at Bucky, limp on the bed. He nods.

“Go.”

Before she knows it, the door shuts behind her slowly, an industrial, metal click, signifying a sealed door, nearly impenetrable if it was locked. She tries to be calm, but there’s no way, no reason to look composed either, so she flings herself to Bucky’s side, fingers twitching, hands hovering over him, afraid to touch him in case he frails like a burnt paper, in case he turns to dust and disappears before her very eyes.

Tears, once again, fall freely on her cheeks, tracing paths already carved by the previous breakdown, and the prospect of never seeing his wonderful crystal eyes, blue and loving, tears her apart. Worse so, the idea that the last time she saw them, they were red, hateful, betrayed, staring at her as if she was a monster, nothing more than the true scum of the earth, and he was right, and she will likely never be able to make everything right again.

It feels like claws are tearing at her chest like it’s low quality linen, destroying every tiny piece of her into infinitesimal other pieces and then tearing those too. There she is, now, nothing but rubble and ash, on the floor, limp and bleeding. Heart far too heavy for her chest, breaking again and again, her temples feel like they’re about to burst from the pressure.

Sitting on the chair next to his hospital bed, her fingers tremble, carefully sliding under Bucky’s still ones, holding his hand between hers gently, like a lifeline, leaning her forehead on it. She sits there, folded, crumpled, and she cries.

Y/n’s palms are red and kind of stingy, but she pulls her sleeves over them and keeps holding the scalding cup of coffee between her hands anyways. Eyes closed, she lets the steam warm her nose, lets the scent comfort her, and she imagines, with her headphones plugged in her ears, that she is elsewhere, in her apartment with Bucky, on the fire escape, watching the sun descend beneath the skyline of New York City. She imagines his arms around her waist, sitting between his legs with her own dangling off the metal landing and over the street. His voice, vibrating through his chest, onto her back, murmuring teasingly in her ear, nose buried in her hair and his warmth all around her. It’s peaceful, it’s soft and warm and everything she has ever wanted.

When her eyes open, she’s met with sky blue ones, not the ones she was just dreaming of, and she flinches, suddenly very happy her coffee cup has a lid over it.

Steve.

With a sigh, she takes a calming breath, and pulls her headphones out of her ears, tugged by the wire pinched between her fingers. She places them gently on the table in the cafeteria for guests and low-level agents in the compound. It’s nighttime, and the lights in the cafe make Steve’s hair look golden and glimmering.

“How’re you holding up?” She’s not sure how much he means that, and she knows he’s still very much mad at her for everything that’s happened between them. She knows, however, he’s also the one that called her to let her know about Bucky. She feels heavy.

“I can’t stop fuckin’ crying, if that’s what you’re asking,” she tells him, no care to maintain a strong persona, not in front of the person she used to consider her best friend until not so long ago. She flicks the edge of the lid of her beverage with the tip of her nail and looks up at him. Steve looks better than she does for sure. Not because he cares less, or because he’s slept at all, but because the serum gives him more stamina than her. He’s not as tired as she is, despite the hours he’s been awake for. Still, despite his enhanced powers, there’s purple bags under his eyes. “You?”

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at her with a small shake of his head, sighing deeply. She takes that as her answer. Despite wanting to fiddle with something, a way to prevent her hands from shaking, a nervous habit, she pushes her coffee cup towards him, a peace offering, something to hopefully bring him the comfort it brings her. Steve doesn’t touch it. She fiddles with her sleeves instead.

The cafeteria, despite being open twenty-four seven, is quiet. A blanket of silence falls over them and Y/n crosses one leg under the other just to have something to do, something instead of opening her mouth and ruining the temporary civility between them. The words bubble, climb over one another like beasts, up her throat, and threaten to spill- and there’s just so much of them. So many apologies to make, so many explanations to offer, so many please let’s just go back to how we were ’s, so many this is killing me ’s, so many I can’t bear the thought of losing him without at least saying I’m sorry one last time. I don’t want that to happen with you too ’s. It’s all clogging the back of her throat like a spoonful of thick syrup that just won’t go down.

The idea that this might happen with Steve one day too overwhelms her. Two of the people she had found family in now hate her. She can’t let this happen with him, can’t lose him without telling him all of it. The realization; it’s the drop that makes the glass overflow. What if- what if tomorrow, or a month from now it’s Steve on that bed, Steve dying, what if she doesn’t get to tell him all of it? Never gets to apologize? How will she ever forgive herself for the things she didn’t say?

Her eyes well again. Her tongue feels like lead. It’s time.

“I…” She can’t bear to look at him. “Steve, I’m…” a shiver runs violently through her spine. “I’m so sorry. For all of it. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not Bucky, Y/n.” It’s like a kick in the stomach. She hears what he’s saying. I can’t forgive you for both of us. It almost sounds like your apology is useless.

“Well it’s not just Bucky I need to apologize to.” She looks up at him, and she wills the tears to be held at bay, matching his intensity with her gaze. She clenches her fists, fingernails digging in her skin just to distract part of her brain, to feel less numb. “Do you want to hear the truth?” Steve watches her. His irises bounce between hers, they do a once over of her stance, and she knows how small she looks in her seat, in contrast to him, who, despite his frame of mind, always makes a room smaller just by being in it.

His expression is grim, as he nods seriously. She takes a deep breath.

“This is the truth.”

The older she grows, Y/n keeps thinking that she’s experienced everything there is to. But it truly feels to her like she’s never experienced this kind of cold before. And it’s not- it’s not just external temperature. It’s icicles, lodged under her skin, brutally freezing, causing her to endlessly shudder, tremble like a leaf out in the winter, causing her jaw to lock, her limbs to knot up.

She walks and walks, a woman with a purpose, head held high, as high as a prisoner can hold it and- something really isn’t right with this morning. Something isn’t right, and she can tell because this morning she- she felt something she hasn’t felt in years, something she thought she’d never again feel, a bubble of emotion she truly believed they had snuffed out in her. But it becomes an itch, an itch she can’t seem to scratch, something she can’t exactly put words to, can’t name.

The more she walks, the more the feeling of dread climbs up her throat. This she’s familiar with; fear. Cold and fear, clouding her senses, paralyzing her, as Müller’s door raises in front of her, and she struggles to remind herself to keep walking, keep breathing, one foot in front of the other, inhale, exhale, calm down. There’s no way to escape this anyways.

Director Müller was as tall as his voice was shrill and loud. His features were sharp, glass-cutting cheekbones and dimples that showed far too often. His hair was strawberry blonde and his eyes sunken, as if he was seventy years old with one foot in his grave. His skin looked taught over his bones. Always sharply dressed and always hiding about a dozen knives and pistols somewhere in his office. He liked Japanese jazz, had an affinity for yelling, and drank his whiskey straight. The only affection he’d ever had was reserved for his two small birds, Friedrich and Brigitta, whose singing he adored and who roamed in his office freely.

When he’d first kidnapped her and her older brother, Y/n sat doe eyed and watched as they beat her only sibling, her last relative left alive, to a pulp right in front of her. They didn’t know she had things to offer then. They did it for fun, a show of their capabilities, power play. They did it to break her into submission. When they found out, though, about her knowledge of science, her love for technology… That’s when her life truly ended.

She walks, now, down the freezing corridors, and knocks on Müller’s door three times. Status report straight to me every four days, he’d muttered in sharp German way back when he’d first assigned her missions, back in the beginning, and true to his word, every four days, Y/n was forced to see the skin around his bony face tighten and stretch with another chilling smile.

“Come in,” he yells, and his awful voice bounces in the empty, concrete walls of the corridor. She hears his birds. The door creaks open loudly, metal as it is, and she quickly closes it behind her so that Friedrich and Brigitta won’t escape, something she’s learned to do over the years, after one particular incident no one likes to remember, never mind speak of. He calls her last name with lewd, slimy confidence, supposedly happy to see her, his rotten dimples making an appearance. She sits on one of his chairs, upon his prompting “How’s your assignment progressing?”

“Nicely, sir. I’ve reprogrammed the Chair and fixed previous faults.”

“See, Y/n…” He sits on the plush leather chair behind his desk, hands wringing together and as he says her name, he sits up, elbows on the arm rests. His long lashes and abyssal brown eyes examine her. “I think you’re not telling me the truth.”

“Uh…” Stance maintained, but lips pursed and hands just slightly trembling, she keeps his gaze. She can’t displease him. There’s no room for her failure. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, sir. There’s… surely ways to improve, b-but the chair- it works well.”

“Ah, but that is not what I hear.” Müller stands up dramatically, rounds his desk with slow steps, and Friedrich starts chirping consistently, sensing the sudden tension in the room, loud, high pitch hurting her ears. She dares not flinch. The cold returns fiercely, heart climbing up to her throat, choking her. This won’t end well. “As a matter of fact,” he leans, rests on his desk, right in front of her, loving his height difference and accentuating it by standing while she sits, a reminder to both of them that he’s superior. Y/n wants to melt into a puddle on the floor, never to be seen again. “I hear that Smith, your test subject… he has almost already recovered.”

Referring, of course, to the poor boy whom they snatched and have provided her as a sick guinea pig, a way for her to test the torture chair they have forced her to make. It’s a requirement, of course, that she tests it on him herself.

“Sir, I don’t think-“

“DON’T LIE TO ME!” In the flash of a blink, he’s pulled a knife from his belt and he’s pushing her back in her seat, by pressing his blade on her throat. “You know what HAPPENS,” a tilt of his head, “when you LIE.” Friedrich is joined by Brigitta, as well as the echo of Müller’s voice, and Y/n’s heartbeat accelerates, her breath is caught in her throat. She feels like her ears are about to burst.

“He was unconscious when-“

“What did I just say?” Lips purse, scared of making any sound that’ll piss him off further. “Seems to me like you’ve forgotten,” he murmurs, flicking his knife shut and narrowing his eyes. He takes a deep breath, straightens up and she doesn’t dare to move an inch, but it feels like her heart has plummeted to the center of the earth, and she wishes it could drag her too, as far away from this as possible. She’s well aware of what’s to come.

A chilling half hour later she finds herself sucking up tears that’ll only make her situation worse if someone were to see them. The cold, plastic, remote controller is in her hands, and it’s heavy as it’s ever been. She deems herself desensitized of the emotional toll forcefully inflicting torture on innocent people used to take. However, nothing, nothing, could possibly prepare her for what it feels like watching two HYDRA soldiers dragging her bleeding, thrashing brother from his armpits, and forcefully shoving him into the chair Y/n’s made. Director Müller watches her press the appropriate buttons with a sickly smile on his face.

She begs. For the first time in years, she begs God, the universe, something, to save her, to make her disappear. When this doesn’t work, when pleading for somebody to take mercy goes unheard, when the remote feels like the heaviest thing she’s ever lifted, her eyes draw to Müller, who’s watching her intently, waiting for her to carry on with her new assignment.

The millimeters her thumb has to cross feel endless. The process takes eons. The button is nearly unmoving.

Y/n will never forget her brother’s screams.

In the hours that follow, she’s trapped inside her chamber, a tiny room of blank four walls with a hard bed and an open toilet, looking more like a prison cell than anything, the only difference being that in the daytime she’s allowed to come and go as she pleases within the unrestricted areas.

Tears streak her cheeks for yet another night, and the despair has never felt like this before. She thought she’d escape it one day, the guilt, the weight, but it seems she’s trapped, like an ant under a boot, seconds before she bursts to pieces, with the pressure of the entire world on her chest.

The itch grows louder. It’s right there, in the bottom of her heart, something to pay attention to, in her state of absolute isolation and despair. She’s alone, has been alone for so many years, and she wonders, still, why she hasn’t killed herself yet, but the idea that if she does, they’ll probably also kill her brother comes and slaps her in the face. However, what else is there to do? How much torture can she make her brother go through because of her mistakes, how much guilt can she shoulder?

She sits on the bed, counts the bolts that are screwing the vent door on the ceiling, listens to footsteps pass by every so often, and ponders. Silent tears crawl down the curves of her face. She’s lost so much. She hasn’t spoken her native language in years, and sometimes she wonders if she’s forgotten how to.

A pair of heavy duty boots leisurely walk down the hallway, and she recognizes the voices of two guards. Conversation easily flows between them, and Y/n has no choice but to listen.

“Did you hear about the new chair the American has made?” one of them says. Her ears perk.

“The American? No, what about it?”

“They say it’s one of the most painful things they’ve ever used in HYDRA.” Y/n winces.

“Are you serious?”

“It’s what I heard. Wouldn’t wanna find out myself.” The soldiers share a chuckle. “Müller made the American do it on her brother. I hear he died about twenty minutes later.”

Y/n’s heart drops.

He- he’s- he’s dead?

“No kidding. The bastard survived six years. ‘S a wonder he’s lived this long” And as the soldiers pass by, Y/n’s left in her chamber. The silence grows deafening, but the echo of her heart splitting and falling apart, shattering on the hard concrete floor is ear-splittingly loud. All that she’s done, all the sacrifices, all the sheer, iron will she’s had to muster to maintain her sanity, all the awful things she’s done, the blood on her hands, the guilt, the pain she’s caused and- and in the end… he died by her own hand.

Chaos and confusion, an ocean of lashing thoughts violently crashing and pulling her under. It feels like the crescendo of the longest song that’s ever been written, six years of constant playing, and the orchestra’s hands are bleeding on the strings and buttons, coating everything with their own pain, worked down to the bone, and this is it- the minutes before it’s finally over. The roof is about to be blown off its hinges.

The itch is no longer underlying. It consumes her, and she knows, finally. She recognizes it. Escapism. Revenge.

Steve’s silent. He hasn’t looked away from her, hasn’t changed stance, still with his arms crossed over his chest and bulging underneath his dark green sweater. He’s staring at her, patiently as ever, with a set to his jaw that she knows isn’t there out of anger, but because he, too, is overwhelmed with emotion. His shoulders are no longer stiff, and he now has a cup of coffee too, finished in front of him. The bags under both their eyes are darker.

“I didn’t get to kill Müller. But I managed to run away. Barely. I disappeared, travelled to the States. I found Fury and sold all the information I knew about HYDRA and the department I had been held in, in return for protection. Fury took me in.” It’s a lifeless shrug, weighted and tired, and it’s then that Steve glances at his feet, then back at her. “I trained, learned how to fight properly. Used my knowledge for good. Made it to the Avengers in a desperate attempt to make up for all that I had done. ‘S when I met you.”

Steve seems to remember. He recognizes himself entering the story. It’s almost like he’s reliving the time they first met, back on that Helicarrier. A good memory, all things considered.

“There’s little excuse for me lying to you. I know. But please, you have to understand. The burden of getting to know the best friend of the person you’d been forced to help torture for years… becoming close friends with you? How could I ever say anything about anything and have you actually trust me?” She shook her head.

“What do you mean…?”

“They forced me to make weapons, new torture methods, even tried to make me refine Zola’s formula. A way to get a better grip on Bucky’s mind. I didn’t know much about all of it, nor who it was for, wasn’t my field anyways, and Zola’s formula was successful as it was, there wasn’t much for me to add. They later left me to the torture part, not the brainwashing. Even if I had known, though, I wouldn’t really have had a choice in the matter. I did anything I had to do to protect the only family I had left.” He nods seriously.

“We grew closer and closer and I wanted to tell you, to share my guilt with someone finally, but… the prospect of losing you was… too much. I didn’t want to lose the person that had reminded me for the first time in decades what it was like to be cared for. You were-“ a gulp “are like a brother to me.” Steve looks down. “I couldn’t see the betrayal on your face. It- it paralyzed me.

“I didn’t think you’d ever find out, honestly, how was I supposed to know you’d find my file? But don’t think I never felt guilty. It was always there, like everything could crumble at any moment, like a cloud looming over my head, but… I guess I kind of learnt to ignore it. I had found a family, Steve. After years of pain, pain received and pain caused, after so much darkness, I had finally found people who understood what guilt felt like, what it meant to be composed on surface level. I found people that loved me for what I was then and there. The idea of losing that crushed me.

“I know I can’t take it back, but for whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Steve.”

Steve stays tight-lipped, pondering, staring at the table, then at her, then at the table again. He’s carefully controlling his expressions, clearly analyzing the information he’s been given, and she holds her breath. Whatever his reaction is, she thinks, nothing compares to the breath of fresh air she can allow herself to take, free of this awful, lengthy story. Finally, clear honesty, a sort of vulnerability with her best friend that’s different and new. True, down to its core.

It’s the sigh that does it for her. Resigned. Her eyes snap up at him. “You should’ve told me” He shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose before looking up at her, and shaking his head. “I would’ve understood. Nothing would’ve changed.” He looks right at her, very much like a discouraged parent. “What am I gonna do with you?”

And it’s- it’s the way he says it, as if everything makes sense now, shoulders dropping all the way down. The way he just- like he says you absolute moron, but in their own, loving, sibling-like way. As if he can’t stay mad for too long. Looking at her with the tiniest sympathetic curl of his lip.

It’s relief, because it’s in that half a smile that she sees it all. She sees the forgiveness, the understanding. She sees the love. It’s as if he’s looking at her, saying family, am I right? Despite her situation, for the first time in years, so, so many years, she breathes deeply, breathes oxygen that feels nurturing to her lungs, that makes her think she’s floating, and smiles, apologetically, trying to telepathically communicate I’m sorry for being an idiot. Sorry for not trusting you. Sorry for fucking up this badly. I promise to be better.

She knows, he’ll always be there to give her another chance.

It’s moments, a handful of them, in which time and space seem to stop existing, to warp into something else entirely, a world that’s so confused, nobody knows how to put it back. It seems, in those moments, one forgets where they are, how they got there, their brain has not yet escaped from the liquefied dreamland it’s manifested, can’t seem to fit in the strict, square rigidness of reality.

Bucky finds himself in that place. His eyelids seem to weigh about twelve tons, barely feeling his fingertips. It takes a great deal of effort to have thoughts, to- to maintain them, and as his mind slowly starts running a little faster, he remembers faintly, cloudy memories barely registering, that the last thing he saw was three soldiers, that had sneaked up on him, he remembers the gun being aimed at him, instinctively moving and getting nailed in the stomach multiple times.

Wherever he is now, it’s quiet. He worries for a second that he’s been left for dead in the HYDRA base, worries that he’s either dying on the floor or a vague prison cell, resembling something he’s been in already, but he’s comforted by the fact that the surface he’s on seems soft, the lights behind his eyes bright. Whatever the case, he should wake up now, he might need to get up and defend himself.

And as his eyes open, heavy and tired, he meets another pair of gorgeous ones, familiar and soft, and he feels warm all over. He’s- he’s safe. He’s safe because she’s here, and he loves her, with all of his being he loves her, and she’s holding his right hand close to her chest, he feels everything, her warmth, and he knows it’ll all be okay, it’ll all fix itself. He doesn’t have to try.

There’s something lingering just beneath his skin though, a need to recoil. Like a small bucket of icy water thrown over him, because, yes, he loves her, but she betrayed him. She could be out to get him right now, could be working with HYDRA still, and he might be trapped somewhere, and his heartbeat accelerates, because he has to escape and he can’t trust her anymore- until he sees the tears. The tears streaking her cheeks, over old salty marks, and a smile, broken but whole. This isn’t the behavior of a captor, he decides, deems himself, if not safe, then entirely incapable of fighting back, should he need to anyways. Why worry now? Let his future self do the work.

His eyes move around the room, blue-ish gray walls vaguely familiar, and- there’s another figure, another pair of eyes- blue, happy. It’s Steve.

Bucky feels safe. He knows he’s alive. He knows he’s home.

Like any other free afternoon, Y/n finds herself on her couch, curled up as much as she can with a book in her lap. There’s a short lamp on the side table, and she leans on the armrest comfortably with her toes curled, flying through pages and pages of words. Her hair is down, she wears comfortable clothes, and has a blanket over her legs. The weather’s been getting colder lately.

A warm sound, four soft knocks on her wooden door, are enough to pull her out of her novel, enough to make her eyebrows stitch together. She’s not expecting anyone.

Her feet are bare and she’s well aware of how close her knives are to the front door, just in case she has to fling herself over and grab one. She presses her eye against the little peephole, but it’s old and foggy and the workers who had once repainted the building managed to cover part of it with small drops of paint and she hasn’t gotten around to trying cleaning it. Doorknob cold under her palm, she tilts and-

Oh.

The first thing she notices is his shirt, a maroon Henley, buried under two more layers of clothes, a brown hoodie and a darker brown leather winter jacket. The buttons on the collar of his Henley are open, giving her a cheeky peak of the skin of his chest. She loves this shirt on him. It feels like someone tugged at her heart from every direction. Longing.

The second thing she notices is that this- it’s Bucky. Bucky standing in front of her door with an expression she’s rarely, if ever, seen on his face before. Her favorite, gorgeous light blue eyes staring straight at her after briefly scanning her down, as if he, too, is making sure she’s actually there. She is. And so is he. Here. Now. In front of her. Looking at her. Her feet are on the floor, she’s not dreaming, the world is round and Bucky is here.

Oh God. He’s really at her door.

“James…”

He seems to shiver. A shake of his head, something she recognizes as him convincing himself this is happening, then eyes meeting hers again. He shoves his hands deeper in his pockets. She holds the door less tensely.

“I think…” squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, looking at the floor. “Steve said to talk to you.” A heavy breath. Shoulders awkwardly, tensely shrugging, sorta like a kid forced to apologize by their parent. She doesn’t know how, but her head manages a nod, gulping. She pulls away from the doorframe, makes way for him to pass.

“Come in.”

New York sounds as alive as it ever does, even at eleven at night, and Y/n wishes she was sitting, because her legs are unsteady. It makes tears well in her eyes, seeing him here again, in her kitchen, looking around absently. The world feels different, much like it did in the Compound when she’d gone to visit him, even if nothing has changed in it apart from them.

Despite the passing cars outside, and people yelling, heard through the open window, it feels quiet. As if they’re the only ones in the world, being here with him feels like a cosmic event. She remembers what it was like sitting here and being so overwhelmed by the love in her heart, remembers what it was like to be surrounded by his arms and held so impossibly close to his chest. She remembers what it was like to look in his eyes and see them so affectionately looking at her, as if she’s everything he could ever ask for, as if she’s the light in his world. The cold of the night and of the space between them feels very much like a slap in the face.

“I know you no longer work for them,” and it truly breaks her heart how part of that statement feels like he’s trying to convince himself, or as if it’s difficult for him to process. How awful, the shift between being someone’s favorite person and being someone who’s trustworthiness is little over questionable. The weight of being responsible for fucking up the most important relationships in her life suffocates her. “Steve told me.”

There’s nothing to do but nod numbly. She looks at him, watches the warm, glimmering lights of her kitchen fall on the curves and edges of his face, admires the yellow-ish hue outlining his features, making his eyes look iridescent.

She mustn’t cry.

“He told me everything, actually.”

She must not cry.

Bucky doesn’t say a lot of words, but they’re there, at the tip of his tongue, floating in the air like dust particles. In this, there’s a lingering question, a large Why. Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you hide all this from me? Why did it have to be this way?

Y/n looks down. What to say, really?

“I just- I can’t believe-“ she jumps at his loud tone, Bucky never one to have vocal outbursts. She sees the tears in his eyes, gaze lingering away from her, towards the living room for a second before looking up at the ceiling momentarily, then straight at her. His hands are shaking, and she sees it all then. The betrayal, the hurt, despair, the- the loss. There’s no alleviating this pain that overwhelms both of them. She hates herself for this, can’t believe she caused all of it.

“I- I did what I thought would be best for us-“

“No, don’t pull that shit with me.” He glares now and points at her, and she never, ever wanted to be in the receiving end of such an intimidating look. Venom is laced in his tone, harsh and biting, and it feels like the temperature in the room dropped below zero, her spine rigid. “You did what you thought was best for you,” said as calmly as the tears that slowly leak from the corners of his eyes and over the apples of his cheeks are. “In fact, I doubt you thought at all”

That’s not true though. The amount of times she’d sit in her bed, with his arms around her while he slept, weighed down by the lies and the guilt; the guilt of all the terrible things she’d done, and the guilt of hiding them from the most important people in her life. She’d scale the pros and cons of confessing everything, for hours she’d make lists in her head, extensively long, but the cons were always destructively larger and would always win. She’d choose to stay as she was, with them oblivious and happy, until they would finally see her for what she truly was, and she’d convince herself, it would all be worth it for the time spent with them.

“I couldn’t tell you- I couldn’t face the idea of losing you I-“

“So you’d rather lie to me? You’d rather hide your past from me? I trusted you, Y/n.” He hasn’t called her by her first name in so long, and it feels like he just took one of her knives on her kitchen counter and stabbed her straight in her chest with it. “I gave you all of me, I told you every single little thing about myself, everything I hated, everything I’ve done, and I trusted you to have it and- and you couldn’t even trust me to listen to you? To- to understand you?”

She deserves this, she does, but she can’t- can’t deal with him yelling at her and, reflexively, she lashes out- “I was scared, Buck,” –and it’s a pitiful excuse, she knows, but it’s the bitter truth and the reason behind everything. “You have to understand- this isn’t some black and white situation, I thought you’d hate me for everything, I didn’t wanna lose you, or Steve!”

“Scared?” he seethes, walking towards her with angry steps, and she starts stepping back too, entering the living room. She realizes how large he looks, how his anger fills every corner of the room. “You were scared?!” She can practically taste the condescension on her tongue. “And you think I wasn’t?! You think I wasn’t paralyzed you’d run away after everything I’d done? You think I wasn’t terrified of my feelings for you and how fast they came to be?” She wishes she could answer that, but part of her is terrified to know what he used to feel for her and how much of it she actually ruined.

“But I’m a fucking adult, and I dealt with it. You… you lied about everything. Did you even give a shit about how badly you were gonna fuck me over, if I ever found out?”

“Does it look like I fucking like it? You know how sorry I am, how much I hate myself for everything I’ve done to ruin both yours and Steve’s trust in me!”

“I don’t know shit,” her legs bump on the back of her navy couch. “You hurt me- hurt us. We gave you everything, I put my heart on the line for you, and you couldn’t even have a little faith in me to believe in you, and what you truly are.” A monster rings in Y/n’s brain. Nothing but a monster.

“Please, stop.” Submission. That’s all she has left, by now, because his words ring nothing but true. Because she can’t bear to hear everything she feels about herself being told back to her in his voice, it would literally be a nightmare come true. Everything drains in her body, and it all comes down to this. She just wants all of this to stop, the pain in both of them to stop.

“No,” he hisses, and she can’t really blame him. He’s close to her, about two feet away, and she’s trapped between him and the couch. “I’m not gonna stop just because things got uncomfortable for you, just because you had to come back because I was dying in a gurney. You barely tried to make everything right before that. Do you even care?”

“Don’t you see that I did everything because I love you?!”

Silence. Bucky nearly staggers back, as if the words that have never, before, been said came out and punched him in the face.

“Why the fuck do you think I didn’t tell you anything? Because I wanted to break your heart? No, you clueless asshole, I’m in fucking love with you!” His expression is stunned, eyes wide at her outburst, watching as she takes the steps she needs to close the gap between them. Her finger is jabbing at his chest, which is raising and falling with panted breaths. “I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you, couldn’t take to watch your trust break, couldn’t bear the thought of you finally seeing I’m a monster!” And she breaks down, a sobbing mess now, the tears that once trailed down her face, now endless. She covers her mouth, face crumpled and red.

“I j-j-just wanted us t-to be okay, bec-cause I love you t-too much to fuck-king lose y-you”, As her eyes shut, crying relentlessly in her hand, throat feeling like it’s gonna burst, she feels so eternally cold, as if showered by a bucket of icy water. The idea that she might once again be left alone in the world while someone she loves is taken away, all because of her actions- it’s too much. It takes her back to the worst day of her life, brings back a kind of cold so furious, it knots her joints and sends shudders down her spine- her hands tremble at the thought. She can’t believe how colossally she’s managed to screw things up with him, how much he hates her and genuinely believes she did anything less than care about him. .

Like a tidal wave, the emotions overwhelm her, the self-hate like a boulder that smacked her in the face and threw her down a cliff and now everything hurts, and her stomach feels like it’s climbing up her throat. Her heart tears through her chest, painful and slow, and it’s all her fault, everything, and there’s nothing there to fix it all, to make it better- except, all of a sudden, warm, strong arms curl around her. She breaks down harder, curling in his chest because she fucking missed this, missed his affection, his protective embrace, his comforting smell.

Fists clutching his shirt, she sobs, acutely aware of her tears wetting the material of that maroon Henley she loves so much. The arms around her curl tighter, one hand dipping under her hair to hold the nape of her neck gingerly, keeping her against him, thumb rubbing gentle circles. And it’s then that she hears it, his own sniffling, his chest shaking. He’s crying too. The need to provide the comfort she seeks is overwhelming, and she lets his shirt go, wrapping her arms around his waist and holding him together too. “I’m so sorry,” she cries, shoulders shaking, and Bucky shushes her, shaking his head slightly. His arms tighten briefly.

In her crying, she vaguely registers him moving them to the couch, both sitting down, and her curling up into him instinctively. For a while, until she calms down slightly, she lets herself be held and holds him back just as fiercely. It feels like she’s finally letting go, an outburst that frees her of part of the weight she’d been shouldering for years on end. It feels like release, a dam that broke and is spilling every last drop of water that’s been pushing at it for so long.

When she quiets down, when her sobs no longer hurt, no longer feel like they’ll split her ribcage to splinters, when her breathing sort of evens out, she pulls one of her hands to rest on Bucky’s chest, and pulls away to look at him. Bucky’s arms tighten to keep her close.

She’s well aware she must look like a mess, what with all the crying, but this is Bucky after all, her James, the love of her life. He’s seen her under all kinds of light now, and there’s no need to hide. Like he wants, if he is to care for her, after all this, he should care for her for all the things she is, not the things she pretends to be.

Bucky’s eyes are a little less bloodshot than hers. She cups his chin gently and watches his eyelashes flutter, his eyelids softly shut. With her thumb she gently strokes his cheek and notices the way he seems to lean into her palm, lips parting with heavy breaths. He missed her too.

He opens his eyes again to look at her and leans his forehead down to touch hers, holds her closely and brushes the tip of his nose on the bridge of hers so lightly she almost misses it. She sighs. “You have every right to be angry at me,” she whispers to him, pulling her hand back and tucking it in her chest. “I lied, and I didn’t trust you, and I acted the complete opposite way of how I should have. For all of that,” a breath sucked, almost clogged at the center of her chest, “for all of that, I’m sorry.”

Bucky, still infinitely close to her, shakes his head gently. He takes one arm from around her, and she thinks this is it; this is where he says goodbye-

But, gentle as always, he places his right hand on the side of her neck, softly nudges her head up to his and drops his lips on her own, a ghost of a kiss, short and unexpected, before he pulls back and looks at her. “I love you.” He whispers, breath hitting her lips, and her eyes well with tears once again, as she looks up at him. She never thought she’d hear those words, not after everything. Bucky kisses her single fallen tear away, noses at her temple.

“I don’t think you’re a monster, the same way you didn’t think I am one. You helped me heal, helped me learn that those things I did, they weren’t me. I didn’t have a choice.”

“B-but-“

“No, you listen to me.” He tells her, his grip around her body tightening, giving emphasis to his words. “You did what you had to do to protect your brother. What you did… The blood isn’t on your hands.” He has not let her gaze go for a second, and she’s transfixed, tears still overflowing- she wonders when she’ll finally run out of them. “I love you.” Her bottom lip trembles. “I love you more than I thought I was ever capable of. Thinking you betrayed me completely incapacitated me, but I understand you. I see you. I forgive you.”

She gasps, shudders, and in the spur of a single waking moment, lunges at him, kisses him fiercely, holds him tightly. Their lips mold together, and the last pieces of the universal puzzle of the cosmos click to place. Everything settles, mouths moving in sync, desperate, hungry, all the emotions tumbling out all at once, and it’s like the slingshot snapped, and the missile hit the target. She bites his bottom lip, and the groan he lets out comes from deep within his chest, tongues tangling together. His metal arm crushes her against him, hand buries in his hair, their noses smush together, breaths strangled, air shared, and…This- this feels like belonging. No- more like, this feels like coming home.

Inevitably, they part, trying to suck in much needed air, foreheads knocking together gently and chests heaving. It seems like they feed off each other’s personal space, like they hold each other in one piece, while also completing one another. To Y/n it feels like a breath of fresh air.

“This doesn’t mean we’re perfect yet,” Bucky utters gently, not in a menacing way, but as a soft clarification, a request even. “I- I’m gonna need some time.” She’s grateful he even chose to give her a chance at all. Y/n smiles up at him affectionately and nods.

“Of course, Buck. All the time you need.” She caresses the side of his face with gentle fingers, traces his features with a feather-light touch, then cups his jaw. “Thank you.” And it’s weighted, hangs low in the air. She looks at him intensely to make sure he knows she means it. Bucky closes his eyes and leans into her touch, then blinks them open, brilliant, sky blue irises staring right at her. “I love you so much.” He breathes out heavily.

“Say that again,” he whispers. She grins at him as if he’s all good things in the world, because he is.

“I love you, Sergeant Barnes.” A kiss pressed to his cheek. “I love you with all of my being.” A kiss gently tucked on each of his eyelids. “I love you for all that you are.” And she kisses him on his lips sweetly, and he responds like she’s made out of glass, like she’s fragile. He sighs out. They breathe close to each other for a while.

“I know you said you need some time. Do you… wanna go out with me? Coffee? At Michelle’s?” Bucky grins. Their spot. He nods.

“I’d really love that.”

It’s not much, but it’s something. An olive branch. The first step to gain his trust back. There’s nothing Y/n deems more important. With a deep breath, she knows. She’s ready to do anything, to work her hardest to earn a place in his life, the one he’s so graciously offered her. To get to build a future with him, on steady foundation this time.

Their life begins now. Y/n can’t wait to live it. With him.

A/N 2: please tell me what you thought!

#mcu #marvel #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky x fem!reader #steve rogers #sebastian stan #chris evans #bucky fluff #bucky angst #bucky fanfiction #bucky fanfic #mcu fanfiction

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always-on-tatooine · 3 years

Text

A MaulxReader part 1: Shooting Stars

Woo-wee! First time posting something like this. I’m still a little new to Tumblr, so if I need to fix something please let me know.

Also, big shout out to @justalittlecloud and @a-dorin for being so kind and giving me courage to post this :)

Masterlist link: https://always-on-tatooine.tumblr.com/post/640968824459526144/shooting-stars-maulxreader-masterlist

1454 word count.

Takes place RIGHT at the end of Clone Wars, so spoilers may be present. Enjoy!

Released from the Jedi's grasp, and the orbital pull of the moon that drew closer to the condemned ship by the second; the now-former Darth Maul believed he had finally made his escape inside the stolen shuttle. After his battle with Ahsoka Tano on Mandalore, and the amount of force that was used to destroy the ship's engines, the Zabrak knew he would have to find somewhere to rest if he were to regain his strength. With the fall of the republic, the new order, designed by his former master would now have complete control over the galaxy. This would be a new challenge he would have to survive if he were to exact his revenge.

Sending his spacecraft into hyperdrive, he was certain of his freedom from the chaos he created. Though he rarely underestimated his opponents, he did however neglect to calculate how much damage he had caused to the main ship. As metal and debris scattered across space, not even a Sith as skilled as Maul could avoid what happened next. A large chunk of metal shrapnel carved straight into the shuttle engine. A light show of emergency signals illuminated the cockpit. Frantically, Maul did his best to take control of the craft as it dropped out of its attempt of hyperspace. With his ship now spinning through space, it became clear to him that there was very little he could do to stop his fate as Maul lunged towards the nearby planet. The only hope for him now was to land his ship as smoothly as he could.

**********

The night sky was brightened by a series of explosions over (y/n)’s planet. Though it was hard to see whether it was Republic or a Separatist ship from this distance, only a large warship would have been able to ignite the bright colors that followed as it fell out of hyperdrive. Though the destruction was being pulled into the gravitational force of one of the nearby moons, plenty of the explosion made its way to its neighboring planet. Parts of the chaos could be seen flying through the atmosphere. Like shooting stars, some of the metal debris burned even brighter they came colliding with the planet's surface.

For (y/n), this was a nice addition to the already beautiful night sky that spanned over the great plains. As of late, she had been struggling to get a good night's rest. Something in the air had been unsettling, an unexplained shift that kept her up in the late hours. So, a beautiful occurrence like this was a nice accompaniment to what was already a restless evening. Most of the time it was fairly quiet in these parts, as their planet often orbited away from the happenings of the waring galaxy beyond. She watched as bits of the destruction above burned up in the atmosphere, cascading down like brightly lit shooting stars. (Y/n) made herself comfortable petting the little loth-cat that sat on her windowsill, which served as an observatory to the arial spectacle. For years now, the two had been living alone in their small hut, one of the very few that have been scattered out across this open valley. With no neighbors in sight, (y/n) used her space to spread out her farm as far as she saw fit, making it just big enough that she could tend to it herself. The closest town from here was an hour or so ride on her jump speeder; longer when carrying her cart of produce to sell to the locals. This arrangement made her a decent living. Sure, it was lonely out here, but it was the price she had paid to ensure her freedom.

One of the “shooting stars” looked especially bright as it encountered the atmosphere. At first just a shimmer in the sky, only slightly more distinct than the shimmering stars above. As it fell, it emanated bright colors of fiery reds and burning yellows. A beautiful spectacle, the burning ball appeared to grow brighter by the second… and closer.

Once (y/n) finally realized this piece of sharp metal was not burning up in the atmosphere, but rather was coming straight for her home, she only had a mere few seconds to prepare for impact. Grabbing her little loth-cat she slid under one of the counters in her home and braced for impact.

The planet shook, sending vibrations throughout the house, threatening to knock everything in her home about. Holding the scared ball of fur tight, it took (y/n) a moment to loosen her grip and take in the damage. Things in the house did in fact become shuffled about. A few things knocked off shelves and the lighter of her furniture push aside. It added a slight atmosphere of disaster to her usually cozy home. When the trimmers were finished (y/n) shot to her feet. The crash did not feel too far away, and if the impact had destroyed her crop then she would certainly be damned for the growing season. In a rapped fashion, she slipped on her shoes, grabbed her staff, and went outside to investigate the damage that had been gifted by the heavens above.

As the smoke cleared, she could see to her relief, the plummeting debris did not destroy her season’s hard work. The damage ended about 30 meters outside the small field of crops. With the dust settling more, it became clear to (y/n) that this was not just a simply discarded part of a ship. A space shuttle, fuming from the flames now sat in front of the young women, a distinguishable new addition to the dark and open landscape. At closer inspection, she could see a silhouette of a body sitting in the cockpit. Quick to act, she knew that if this person were still alive, it would not be much longer until the smoke from the flames would ensure that there were no survivors in this crash.

The heat coming from the shuttle was more than hot enough to tell her that touching the ship would possibly lead to burning off her entire hands. With some very precise shimming between the latch of the capsule and the windshield, she manages to leverage her staff and release the seal, getting fresh air to the perhaps deceased driver. A distinguishable pop, followed by a rolling hiss, smoke released from the opening, creating a large burst into the air, only to dissipate, leaving the body hunched over the wheel, barely breathing.

(Y/n) had never seen a Zabrak before. She had only heard of them in stories; horned beings with bright skin that was vibrant as they were fierce. Yet in that moment, legends became true, falling from the sky from a heap of fire. He became even more real, as (y/r) reached into the ship to drag out the single survivor. Heavy, she did her best to lift the creature from his confines. She draped the muscled body over her back as she used all her might to bring the unconscious man back to her small home, the sound of metal scraping the rough terrain as his legs dragged in the back.

Attempts to lay the man down on the couch in a way that secured his safety was limited, as the heap of dead weight slinked from her body and onto the limited resting space. In the dim light of her small hut, she was able to see more features of her unexpected guest. Under the mix of ash and buses, bright crimson skin painted over his face; a contorted expression from the pain he was enduring. Dressed in black, his agile body clumped onto the couch was misleading to its muscular strength; only known to (y/n) after carrying the stranger from the ship aflame.

Her furry companion, still hiding under the counter, peering out, just to let out her hisses and groans of distrust. “Zuzu, you behave now,” (y/n) said scolding yet oh-so casually. “I had to do all the heavy lifting, so you don’t get to say who we have as a guest.”

The one-way conversation continued as she reached for the med-kit, “What else was I supposed to do? Any longer in there, and he would have been done for.” Due to the limited lantern lighting, she was only able to apply bacta cream to the most evident of wounds. “This will have to do for now,” she proclaimed, looking over the depleted horned being. “Anything else that needs to be examined will have to wait till tomorrow.” After coving the stranger’s body with a spare blanket, she swept up the still cautious Zuzu, carrying her small companion off to the bedroom for rest.

#star wars #sw #maul #darth maul #maul x reader #maul x you #maul x oc #xreader #x reader #clone wars

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yeet-imma-skeet · 4 years

Text

The Sky Has Fallen

(Based in @starr-fall-knight-rise 's unique universe and part 2 to The Sky is Falling)

(Part 1: https://yeet-imma-skeet.tumblr.com/post/613232997621202944/the-sky-is-falling)

Quiet.

Unbearable, suffocating silence.

The guard hated that the most about their long journey.

A month had passed by since their launch into the unknown. Long ago had they past the sight of their plentiful solar system rich in mineral asteroids and beautiful planets. Away from their warm and loving star. Far, far away from their once vibrant home...

The further they went, the more sorrow they felt. To combat their grieving, they had made plans together for the very first time in years, finding their rhythm with each other once again. They had talked about memories both new and old while working with whatever they could. The Sea Prince monitored and maintained the dolmier quaster, trying to fix their broken navigation rig hit by a stray asteroid. The Sky Prince was studying medical files in the dolmier, a first for both the Sea Prince and the guard, as he found it necessary if one of them were to be hurt. A helpful floating orb of data flew between them, projecting screens of information. It was a rare piece of tech yet a welcome one in their dolmier. It acted rather strange for a machine yet it got the job done.

The guard, a newly anointed Vigil in fact, took her job seriously as she scanned the space outside the dolmier. But she never could expected that the wide expanse of space looked unbelievably beautiful, terrifying for sure but containing endless wonder.

Her gaze was always turned to the ground on their planet Farris. Stay in her place. Bow to the powerful. Serve their whims. Train endlessly where she lacked. Run faster and climb farther. Tear her body down to build it up again. She didn’t mind it if it was all to see her friends every now and then. Even if it was every few years at urgent meetings where she wasn’t allowed to speak. She didn’t mind, she really didn’t...

Plink! Her arials shot open, tilting everywhich way.

“Your highnesses?”

A muffled voice yelled from another room, “One, you don’t have to call us that! Two, what?”

“Did you happen to drop something?”

“No. Wace did you?”

The Sea Prince poked his head out from a doorway, “No.”

Galia narrowed her eyes as her hackles rose, “Get to the control room and lock the doors.”

“What—“

“Quiet. Go.”

A pensive pause hung in the air until they wordlessly hurried away. The guard watched them go, reaching for a long unused sense within her. She couldn’t let them see her as the weapon she was trained to be. They would be horrified, they would hate her as her old littermate Prince Kial did when he witnessed her work. It’s best not to expose them to too much bloodshed. Not after the tragedy a month ago.

She spread her arials as far as they could and went into a hunting crouch. Her footsteps didn't make a sound, different from the usual clicking of claws. Speaking of claws, she flexed her hands, feeling sharp three inch long claws erupted from her fingertips. She prowled into a rounded corridor as her arials twisted everywhich way to catch a sound.

Thunk.

She darted into the halls, running off walls to avoid slowing down. Her arials picked up a suspicious noise in the loading bay. There was no way in hell that the dolmier made the noise. It sounded disturbingly organic.

The guard slid to a quiet stop before she krept to the entrance of the bay. Her body tensed like a spring as her eyes sharpened into an uncomfortable focus. Her mane and tuft of hair on her tail raised, hackled at her hunting mode. The oval door slipped open at her silent command, the guard poised for action in front of the dimly lit room.

Something shuffled behind a few crates. Her eyes locked onto the sound as she prowled into the shadows of towering stacked crates. She heard rapid breathing and felt subtle vibrations from the floor. Though her hearts hammered against her chest, her mind stayed focused on the target. It silenced, stopping its breathing to her arials.

She sprung. An unearthly screech teared through the air, making her head ring to the unexpected sound. But luckily she was trained for this. Her claws dug into wriggling flesh as she raked down the creature with her hind legs. Bodily fluids spilt and the creature screeched louder. The body thrashed as the guard hung on, being hit on all sides by the floor and falling crates. She hissed as it bit her tail, opening her hidden jaws for payback. With stabbing pain, her tail constricted around what seemed to be legs while she slammed the rest onto the ground. The creature stopped, dazed as she chomped down. The vile taste of its blood made her gag, almost making her rear back in disgust. It screeched with more desperation, trying to buck off its attacker. A limb flew back, cutting across her face as she lost sight in her left eye. She roared in muffled pain, doing everything she could to pin down its body. As much as she hated it, her jaws clamped down harder as she swiftly tugged up. The snap of its spine heralded blissful silence. She thought it ironic that she hated the silence a moment ago.

The guard quickly sprang away, spitting out its horrible taste and comedically trying to wipe it off with her hands. Bad idea.

"Oh my goddess, I made it worse!" She spat, realizing her hands were also covered in green blood. Wait, green?

Her mind exploded with fear, making her back away from the dead creature even more. She tried hacking out the taste in her mouth harder until her throat burned. Horrified still, the guard wiped away as much blood as she could with panicked hands.

No! An infected! How is it here?!

She commanded for brighter lights before her hearts dropped to her tail, paralyzing her in horror. The mangled body of a infected Farrisan laid on the metallic floor, lying still in green puddles of blood. Jagged lines of black carved through their white skin, making the flesh bulbous and rotten. Their mane was pure black, unusual for them as they were purely a Sky Dweller. Lastly, its death opened eyes was a glazed putrid green.

Her legs weakened as she slumped to the ground in shock. The disease that the dead body had decimated their planet, killing ninety percent of those who were infected after they turned into mindless abominations. They spreaded it by wandering around and attacking anyone, infecting others with their bodily fluids that she just injested a moment ago. Her tail, though bitten, didn’t bleed because of Farrisan biology but still proved to be a certain wound infested with its saliva. Her claws retracted as she stared at her stained hands, unbelieving at her mistake.

“GALIA!”

Her head snapped up, arials picking up a violent scuffle in the dolmier. It came from the control room.

She launched herself out of the bay, claws digging into the metal floor like butter as she pushed for speed. A horribly familiar screech sounded along with panicked yelling. No! Her legs felt like they were on fire as did her lungs when she sped through the corridors. Her eyes only saw tunnel vision when she burst into the room. A purely blackened Farrisan stood over the still bodies of her friends, a silver trident in its back.

All she saw was red. With a battle cry of rage she attacked. She slashed at the body with everything she had, having no room in her mind for finesse or thoughts of training. Even if she was going to become one of them, she was taking it down with her! The guard kept clawing, slashing, and biting as the infected fell dead in her hands. Blood trickled down her chin before she noticed she was mangling something long dead. Its face was undefinable as was the rest of the torn body covered in deep cuts but she didn’t care. Not when her only two companions left in the world were dead.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.” She cried, “It’s all my fault!”

Her arials shook as the ground seemed to sway under her feet. She stumbled to their bodies, falling to her knees once again in shock. A sorrowful cry built its way up into her chest as she keened. Their once joyful faces would never look at her again. She would never hear their voices laugh and talk.

Gasp. Her arials perked up at the sound. Another slow gasp came from them. Placing her shaking hands on their chests, she felt the undeniable beatings of their hearts. It was slow yet strong. They were still breathing! Thank Matradais!

The orb of info that hung around the pair hovered near from its hiding spot under the deck, projecting an image of stasis pods within the medical bay nearby. She got the idea, heaving the Sky Prince into her arms. Deep lacerations cut through his abdomen, bleeding pale blue blood. It normally wouldn’t have bled if he was awake but she had no time to wake him. The guard ignored the dripping down her fingers as she stumbled into the medical bay. The helpful orb flew to an empty clear cylinder surrounded in metal pipes and panels. Following its direction, she gently set her charge inside the cylinder through its sliding door. With a quiet click and a whisper of escaping gas, it sealed him inside as an unknown liquid poured into the capsule. She watched the tall cyclinder fill with anxiety, uncertain yet hoping. The orb nudged her lightly towards the door, showing an image of an arrow towards another stasis pod.

She rushed out of the room, bringing back the Sea Prince over her shoulder. He was stupidly heavy, almost twice her size but it didn’t stop her from dragging him into the other glasslike cylinder. Liquid filled his container too as she motioned for the orb to approach her.

“Vitals?”

It projected a summary of their injuries and, surpringly, her own. Aleyo by far had the worse injuries out of all of them. His floating form inside the pod looked just as bad as it did on his information. His tail had chunks bitten off as his cuts ran along his abdomen. Wace had less damage, having slashes down his arms and chest and nothing more. Her own wounds just consisted of her tail being bitten and her left eye nonexistent. Her hand shot up to her face as a searing fire flared where her eye used to be as did her tail. Her body allowed her to bleed as the threat was now gone, leaving her in pain and slumped to the floor. With a shocked whir of surprise, the orb zoomed around the room, somehow bringing bandages, string, and needles to her side.

She rasped, “Th-thanks.”

The room was starting to spin as the guard smelt her own blood. She stayed conscious enough to stitch herself up with some prompting from the orb, hissing with every stab to her flesh. Done with her tail, she had to know the rest of her charges damage. She read down the statistics with a critical eye, wrapping her now missing one with bandages.

Both had signs that the infecting disease was running through their systems but for her...

“I’m immune?!”

The orb bobbed in place, it’s own equivalent of nodding. Her hearts hammered inside her chest. She was one of the few, one of less than ten thousand Farrisans to be immune to the harmful affects of the disease.

On its projected screen it asked, “My programming allows for bioengineering research. May I use a blood sample from you to calculate a cure? It will take approximately 673 cycles to calculate.”

Her eye widened, her gaze solely on that one miracle word, “I don’t care how long. Take it!”

————————————

A beautiful swirl of purples, greens, and blues made up the impressively large nebulae outside the UNSC Esperanca. The spaceship seemed to be the size of an atom compared to its grand size. It would make any human feel small and inconsequential compared to its majesty. Which is why they decided to explore it, or more accurately, why the acting commander Adam Vir wanted to explore it but couldn’t personally because he was up to hijinks.

Captain Silva sighed and thought to himself these thoughts. Commander Vir always seemed to be somewhere doing God-knows-what wherever he went. Silva admitted that he was the most qualified to lead space exploration but still felt a bit of anxiety when he remembered Vir lead a fleet. He leaned back in his captain’s chair, gazing around him at the holograms of his ship’s surroundings. The stately bustling of footsteps and low conversations made the atmosphere all the more calming under the stars. A few heavier steps approached him, reminding him of the few Drev he hired on board.

“Any problems, Latinar?” He gruffly asked.

The four armed alien held a tablet within a hand, his beak-like snout turned down to inspect it. The dull silver carapace of his reflected the nebulae above, smattering him with glittering color. It was quite the relaxing light show if it wasn’t for the suspicious look on his face.

Latibar spoke, “We’re receiving an unknown signal from inside that nebula.”

“A signal?” The rest of the main deck started to notice the change in the air.

The gray Drev tapped a few times on his tablet, sending something to the room, “It was a bit hard to understand what it was until Mathan helped smooth it out. You might want to listen hard, though.”

He tapped once more before an audio file played aloud, silencing any conversation. It first started as a fluctuating hum, raising in pitch then lowering rapidly at random times. Some clicks and chittering sounded in some intervals as did some guttural hisses. It lasted for about three solid minutes, never stopping and reminding the humans of a squirrel cat hybrid in distress. At the last chitter, the room sat quiet, unsure of what they just heard.

“What... was that?”

“A message along with an address.”

A static image hung in the air, showing stars and planets connected to each other with lines but labeled with unknown text.

Captain Silva sat up in his seat, scrutinizing the picture, “Lieutenant Crimm?”

A young man at a control panel stared for a moment before typing away as his desk, numbers and letter passing through his screen until he announced, “Its three days away, sir.”

The Drev looked between their locked eyes in confusion, “What is going on?”

Silva combed a hand through his graying hair before rubbing his face, heaving a strained sigh, “Commader Vir ordered all ships to investigate strange phenomena and we fucking found one.”

“Do we reroute our course, sir?”

He stood up with shoulders squared and eyes accepting, surprising Latinar at his unusual behavior. Silva normally bemoaned at the commander’s command, following through yes, but with a grumbling attitude. It’s like he flipped a switch, turning into a focused human leader instead of a grouchy manager of a business. This is what he looked for. To see one of the highest standing humans finally find a challenge.

Captain Silva wolfishly grinned, “Set course for that location. Commander Vir can’t hog all the glory!”

(Part 3: https://yeet-imma-skeet.tumblr.com/post/615142949001527296/where-is-the-sky)

#alien #fantasy #original species #scifi #starr fall knight rise #original story #story #short fiction #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians

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kn1feinthec0ffee · 4 years

Text

in too deep (part 4) - jules

jules x reader

warnings: for the first time in this story, probably nothing really major!! very vague description of piercing removal?? (this is me trying not to spoil the movie for anyone even though this is the fourth part lol)

notes: this might be a little short, but if you look at the footnotes of the last part, i explained why

also should i say like what’s coming next before every piece like up here in this section or does nobody care bc i would totally do that SO next week is either going to be henry fluff, roman fluff, or roman smut 😳 if i finish them all before next week, you guys can let me know which one you want if you wanna do that

******************

“i’ve told you a hundred times, the business model is flawless,” you repeated. “every day we roll outta bed, hit the shore, and scoop up a day’s worth of merchandise. you know, nice shiny shells, maybe some skipping rocks; and then we spend the afternoon sellin’ ‘em. it’s pure profit, julie.”

“yeah, babe, that’s a good idea n’ all, but what happens when we get too big? we’re gonna have to hire a shell finder, and then it won’t be pure profit anymore. that could bleed us dry.” jules countered.

“shit, that’s a good point. what if instead of paying him, we give him a chunk of the company? like equity, right?” you suggested.

“oh yeah, true.” she murmured. “well we have the business model and all, but what are we gonna call it?”

you were trying to keep your calm, even in this terrible situation. you found that talking about the future, even though said future was entirely dependent on the fact that the two of you made it out of here alive, helped to quell your anxiety. or maybe it was just the fact that jules had an incredibly calming effect on you.

“hmmm, that’s a good one. i feel like that’s all you. i think you’re a little more creative than i am. i’m just the numbers girl.” you responded. the tinny, tapping noise of her tongue stud as she was deep in thought irked you. “babe, could you stop that? i keep tellin’ you, you’re gonna ruin your enam- oh fuck, wait!”

“what?” she asked confusedly. “your tongue ring! th-the stud!” you exclaimed. “what about it?”

“the locks- i can pick the locks with it!” you tried to maintain a low volume; after all, this plan didn’t need to be spoiled only moments after it’s conception.

“baby, it’s in my tongue,” jules reminded you. “how are you gonna get it out?” you winced as you realized the lengths your girlfriend would have to go to to get the two of you out of here.

“maybe if you do that thing that i hate - the one with your teeth - and just kinda pull on it, maybe it’ll just sorta, pop out?” you proposed. you heard a hefty sigh from behind you, hopefully signaling an attempt to escape.

“fine, i’ll try it.” you listened silently as she grunted behind you, pulling with all the force her tongue could muster. “sorry, babe, my tongue isn’t strong enough.”

“no, your tongue is so strong! it’s a great, strong tongue! could you try again?” you begged, but to no avail, jules knew she couldn’t pull it out. “what if you - um - just, like, kinda turn towards me - yeah, yeah, like that, and i just sorta - clamp down on it with my teeth and, y’know, remove it.”

jules spun back around at lightspeed, slamming her mouth shut as she internally cringed at your suggestion. “that’s gonna fucking kill!”

“i know, baby, i know it’s gonna hurt! believe me, i wish i had the piercing in my tongue, but i don’t.” you hung your head down in desperation. “julie, please, this is our only chance outta here.”

“you owe me,” she grumbled in acceptance. you heard the sound of fabric shuffling against the frigid concrete and you turned to meet her halfway.

“i owe you.” you whispered to her, placing a quick kiss on the tip of her nose. “you ready?” she nodded, holding her tongue out and closing her eyes as she braced herself for what was sure to be very painful.

“okay, one, two,” on three, you yanked your head back, successfully pulling the stud out. she clamped her mouth shut rapidly, trying to contain her scream. before you could praise her, the basement door swung open and in came george holding some sort of food.

you’ve got to be fucking kidding me, you thought. you kept your mouth sealed, hiding the ring beneath your tongue and hoping that jules would do the same. george approached the two of you, humiliatingly waving a ladle full of the dish in front of your face.

“come on, eat up. we don’t want you starvin’ down here now.” george smirked, his expression turning into scowl when you refused the food. “no? well, how ‘bout you?” he shoved the spoon towards jules, but he received the same response.

“fine. you’re gonna have to eat at some point, and i don’t particularly give a damn whether it’s my wife’s food or your own goddamn fingers.” he grumbled before heading back upstairs. as soon as the door closed, you heard jules spit the contents of her mouth onto the ground, panting as she took in breaths. “fuck.”

“shit, that was a close one,” you dropped the ring from your teeth into your open palm. “you good, babe?”

“yeah,” she groaned at the nasty taste in her mouth. “i just swallowed a bunch of blood. tasted like metal.”

“don’t worry, i got it from here.” you prodded at the keyhole with the stud, jabbing at it from every direction you could muster. you sighed as you couldn’t seem to get a good angle on your own cuffs. “fuck.”

“what is it?” jules asked. “y/n, don’t tell me we just ripped a hole in my tongue for no reason.”

“no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no way! here just - let me try and get at yours. could you like, sorta, present them to me?” she shuffled into the perfect place just within your reach. “yes, baby! that’s great!”

“alright you motherfucker. come on, you little piece of shit, fuckin’ dickbag,” you cursed to yourself as you jammed the stud every which way. “you little piece of fucking shit... oh, i fucking got it!” you exclaimed.

“oh yes, baby!” jules shimmied out of the cuffs, turning around to press little kisses all over your neck and cheeks. “i love you so much!”

as much as you loved her affection, you loved the idea of escaping this hellhole even more. “alright, alright,” you panted through a smile. “no time to waste. get mine.”

“okay, what do i do?” she questioned as she took the stud out of your fingers. “you just kind of stick ‘em in there, and then you kinda move it around until you find a catch point.” you answered.

“relax and feel it,” you directed, feeling her nimble fingers working the pin into the lock. “yeah, that’s right, just feel it. come on!”

suddenly, you heard a small snap, emanating from the cuffs. “oops,” jules mumbled under her breath. you forgot how to breathe for a moment. “oops?” you wondered out loud. “it, um, it broke.” she spoke so quietly she was nearly whispering.

“ohyougottabefuckingkiddingme,” you breathed out, trying to will the lump in your throat and the tears behind your eyes to go away as to not make your girlfriend feel bad. “whe- where’d it break?” you asked, expecting the worst possible answer.

“it - uh, it probably broke inside and now it’s just kind of in there!” she panicked. “oh baby. baby, i’m so sorry. i fucked it all up!” her head hit the pole with a soft thud.

“no, no, no, no, no, no, no! it’s okay, it’s okay!” you tried to deescalate the situation as fast as you could; the last thing you needed on top of being chained to a post was your girlfriend to have a breakdown. “hey, hey, come over here! c’mere, c’mere!” she crawled in front of you, wringing her head in her hands as she apologized profusely. “hey, it’s okay. you did your best. look, my leg is fucked, i can hardly walk anyways. it doesn’t matter. you got this, okay?”

despite your reassurance, jules still seemed a little shaky. “i- i don’t even know what to do, though. w-what do i do?” she looked over to sweetiepie who was waving her hand at them. “what is it?” she pointed in the opposite direction, directing jules’ gaze to an escape. “holy shit, it’s a laundry chute!”

a spark set off inside you; maybe getting out of here was possible after all. “can you get up there?” she nodded confidently as if to say ‘of course i can’. she pulled you into a fierce kiss, catching you by surprise. “i love you,”

“i love you too,” she grinned, making her way over to the chute and hoisting herself up inside, disappearing from your view.

you turned to sweetiepie, a desperate look on your face. “she better make it outta here.”

******************************

oops i may have accidentally went back and watched the movie a fifth time just to refresh myself on some of the dialogue but it was an accident i assure you

tags: @emmyrosee @flowers-in-your-hayr @willyourecognisemee @bill-skarsgard-owns-my-ass

#jules #jules x reader #jules imagine #jules oneshot #jules fanfiction #jules fanfic #jules fic #jules villains #villains #villains 2019 #maika monroe #maika monroe character #my writing

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voidtekarc · 4 years

Text

Gods

A a few weeks had passed since Kristin left for Ul'dah and sold their family home. Arcuris took one last walk through which was once the Fuller home before the new owners moved in. He ran his hand along the dining room table as walked along the side of it, which he shared with both Ribald and Kristin when they still lived there. He stopped when he got to the end and stared out the window, overlooking the garden that was still in bloom. Kristin sold almost everything in the house, only keeping a few family heirlooms. He didn't want to be reminded of the life she had before while traveling to her new home.

Soon after taking a last visit through their home, he set out on his magitek armor across the open desert of Gyr Abania. There were no storms, no high winds, or clouds. A standard night for a standard day. Things had been quiet for almost week since he cut ties with the last of he Fullers and took control of the mines left to him. He was not happy he had to lie to the workers in the mines about Ribald's retirement, but things didn't need to be more unstable than they already were. He was already drowning in extra work with the mines, including the accounting and paperwork involved. He was tired of it all.

He stopped his magitek armor while he was thinking, feeling like something was watching him. As he came up onto a hill, in the distance was a ruined small town, looking like a good place to stop the armor and get a better view on whatever his paranoia had formed in his mind. Arcuris parked the vehicle inside one of the abandoned houses through one of it's side walls collapsed long ago. Ironically the damage looked like it was done from a cannon shot from one of the very machines Arcuris rode into it. He drew the shotgun from one of his back holsters and advanced through the village, slowly viewing around each corner.

Arcuris heard a rather large thud and then a rustle of debris. It was close. From his senses he judged it to be less than fifty fulms away from him. He stood still near the shadows of a higher wall, slowly moving his head and eyes about to get a glimpse on where exactly it was. He heard the heavy clacking of what sounded like metal upon the shingles of a building right next to him. He slowly peered up while raising the shotgun upon hearing snarling and heavy breathing of of a monster.

It was a Coeurl, heavily modified with magitek armor and technology. It raised it's back tentacles and gripped his claws, snarling down at Arcuris. He raised the shotgun as soon as he saw it. The gun went off twice, tearing into the beast before it leapt down at him, biting into his armor before dragging him a few yards through the debris and sand. It's claws rending into him, drawing some blood as the iron claws tore into the plate mail. Arcuris grabbed the monster with his left hand before hammering his fist into the creature's cranimum multiple times.

The monster, dazed from the pummeling, let go of Arcuris, giving him time to draw his gunblade. With a powerful swing down, he fired off a round into it's side, blasting off one of the tentacles on it's back and leaving a huge slice in it's torso. The beast swiped relentlessly, digging deep with each strike. Arcuris retaliated by cutting into the monster before firing off more rounds, tearing massive chunks of flesh off, forcing it to withdraw from the amount of damage it was sustaining. The monster ran off, giving Arcuris time for his wounds to seal back up and recover for the next attack.

He didn't wait for anymore enemies to arrive. He rushed for the large stone building in the middle of the town while readying his assault rifle. The same Coeurl pounced at him from one of the rooftops before he entered the ruined structure. He pulled the rifle up, holding the trigger down as the rifle churned out it's destruction. The bullets smacked into the hide of the creature making loud, wet smacking noises only to explode inside violently milliseconds after, blasting it's entire front torsos to bits and leaving it's head snapping off it’s spine as it crashed into the earth beside him.

He slammed the door behind him as he entered the structure and threw what was left of the furniture in front of the door. As he reloaded the weapon and sighed heavily as he peered around his surroundings, "I fucking hate this place."

Arcuris could hear something shift in the room when his weapon magazine hit the floor. He was not alone. Before he could react a powerful figure from the shadows almost his size and built swung out with two blades, cutting into Arcuris's arm. He fired in reaction to the attack, blasting pieces of the walls out as he aimed for the enemy. Whoever it was, they were strong and they were extremely fast. Arcuris barely pulled his gunblade free and deflected the attack aimed for his shoulder.

He noticed that the wound was not healing. There was something in those weapons that were stopping his regneration. He remembered of the chemical that stopped his an Umbrianas's wounds when they fought last time. He deflected one more time, reaching for the serum that he kept in his side satchel. As he was about to inject it, the enemy kicked it from his hand as it tumbled into the sand away from sight.

Arcuris finally got a good sight of the enemy. It was most certainly a Garlean as he suspected it was in all of his ornate armor. The Coeurl that attacked him were more than enough evidence with all of their magitek. However, this solidified his observations. They were sending more experiments, more magitek monstrosities to end him.

Arcuris slammed his gunblade into the enemy's weapons, firing off the rounds into him when he could. He managed to slash and blast his way through the attacker's armor, sending blood and armor chucks to the ground. The enemy responded, swinging his blades like a whirlwind, slicing him in multiple location he was too slow to defend against. They didn't cut deep but it was death by a thousand cuts and it was working.

No matter what actions Arcuris made, the enemy was already there to deflect the blows and unlike Arcuris, his wounds were healing. He knew that this could not last. As Arcuris was thinking, reloading his gunblade quickly after knocking the enemy back, the enemy charged again. Arcuris snarled in anger as the enemy stabbed him in the side of the chest with his blade, puncturing even his dermal armor.

The enemy grinned and spoke with virulence in his tongue, "How do the blades taste, traitor?"

Arcuris roared in pain, grabbing the enemy with one hand by the shoulder. He made a quick but extremely powerful an painful swing with his head, breaking the enemy's nose as blood shot all over both of their heads, "How does that taste, mother fucker?!" He used his magitek powers to boost his abilities to the limit. His eyes turned black and red and red electrical energy short through his body and charged his gunblade.

The enemy met his fearsome display with blade bravado. He was smart. He played defensively to keep Arcuris from overwhelming him with sheer strength. The enemy used their speed to take quick slices into him, weakening him slowly as Arcuris blasted into him with the gunblade while hacking into his weapons. With a powerful swing that nearly took the strength out of him. He destroyed one of the blades the enemy had.

The soldier took another swing, slicing deep into Arcuris's face, destroying his magitek visor and cutting deep in the left side of his face. Arcuris stumbled backwards and lost his gunblade before using his fists as a replacement, pummling the enemy with hammer handed blow while holding his wrist with his other hand. He was unrelenting, bleeding, and he was pissed.

With the last bit of power he had, he swung multiple times, busting the enemy in the face over and over with left and right hooks. Not even his regneration could keep up with the punishment he was sustaining. Arcuris bled from his mouth profusely, blood running down his face and chin, staining his armor with his own lifeforce as he kept one eye open. One final punch brought the enemy stumbling down as Arcuris followed him down to the ground, grabbing his head with both hands.

He squeezed as hard as he could, the red electrical power surging through his arms as the enemy yelled in pain. His helmet was being crushed under the power of Arcuris's hands, driving metal and optics into his eyes and skull. With one final burst of energy a loud and sickening pop burst the helmet inwards, blood and gore spurting out of open holes as the screaming stopped.

Arcuris coughed up blood. He stumbled around, looking about for the serum as he dripped blood to the ground like some leaking magitek machine pouring out ceruleum. His vision was starting to darken as he fell to his knees. His hands sifted through the sand, trying desperately to find it before he bled out. This was not how he was going to go out. Not today.

He grabbed the serum and stabbed it into his neck forcefully as the liquid entered his veins. He fell to the ground onto his back, covered in blood. He was completely spent of energy as he stared up through the massive hole in the ceiling of the building. He blinked his eyes slowly as he cought the glittering stars in the night sky above as the quiet night embraced him, taking his mind away from the horrible carnage he just suffered.

A simple, tired phrase escaped his lips before he closed his eyes, "What a mess we made..."

youtube

#arcuris aesthetics #ffxiv rp #mateus #crystal data center #garlean #garleans #bloody #blood #violent #language #seaswolchallenge #LAST ONE AND DONE!#this challenge has got me writing a lot so thanks for that!#mike oldfield #nuclear

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blankdblank · 5 years

Text

In the Boot Pt 3

Pt 1 - Pt 2 -

Plz let me know what you think :D

All –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim, @jotink78

X Thranduil - @evyiione, @sweetlytenacious25, @tigereyesf

…

Another engine approached the house stirring Thranduil’s eyes open again. Heavily he climbed to his feet, feeling a bit less pounding than previous trips before, a small but welcome improvement. When he’d left the bathroom he heard your shower running making him smirk on his path back to bed to pick a film and send off another message, ‘My head is feeling a bit better. Please get some sleep and give Legolas a kiss for me. I love you.’

Setting the phone down he laid back staring at the somehow familiar film about a horse straightening his hips and legs across the bed. The shower switched off and when you were changed into a baggy shirt and shorts you walked through his doorway drawing his eye to the door and a grin from him at your gentle knock, “Hey.”

“How was work?”

You nodded leaning against the doorframe crossing your ankles, “It was alright. Got two of our premies out of the incubators finally got their weight up.”

His grin deepened, “You work with infants?”

You nodded, “Ya, my grandfather didn’t feel comfortable with me working with adults for my safety.”

“Ah.”

“You, um-,”

As you wet his lips he propped himself up against your pillows looking you up and down saying, “I should probably explain. Someone called Elanor called earlier, after you left, mentioned a chat room pal named Ned. Your brothers came here and I sort of, panicked when I realized, I had no clue who I am. I am sorry if that complicates things with the real Ned.”

You rolled your eyes lifting up to walk towards the bed. On the edge you rested your knee on it to sit down curling your legs in front of you softening his grin, getting to see you fully without straining his neck, slowly coated in the sunlight shining through the window accentuating your freckles perfectly. Though a chuckle left him when you flopped onto your side stirring up a pool of curls around your head while you sighed out, “Not a problem there. Went to meet him for coffee and I saw him screaming at the barista. So, ya, I am not dealing with anyone stopping in the service industry as if they’re somehow above them.”

“Well if it helps I’m sorry he didn’t live up to your hopes, but also glad not to trouble things by using his name.”

Weakly you chuckled shifting your head to peer up at him, “How is your Naneth and son?”

“Good. She is concerned, but relaxing I believe at what I’ve told her about you and that I’m being well fed and cared for.”

“Well I can understand her concern.”

He chuckled weakly then said, “Only thing is, I have no idea how to ask her what my name or hers is.”

You weakly giggled then rolled onto your back at the music swelling in the film giving him a chance to eye your propped up legs fully while your one hand rested on your stomach as the other rose to brush your curls out of your face. “I’m certain it’ll come to you soon enough.”

A tilt of his head later his lips parted freeing his tongue to timidly wet his chapped, split and swollen lips in another sweep of his eyes over you laid out in front of him, so close and far too distant for him to be able to touch you even if he was welcomed to. “Did you need help with dinner?”

You glanced back at him shaking your head, “No. There’s a beef pot roast dinner in the oven.” For a moment your eyes lingered on his in return before you asked, “How’s your head?”

“Bit better. Had a nap after the lunch. Another day or so should be able to stand up easier at least. I could help you out here a bit at least.”

“You do not have to help out around here, you were kidnapped.”

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head, “I am not going to sit around here and do nothing while you’re working so hard all day. I could at least make dinner.” Unable to argue you sighed then met his eyes when he asked, “Is this film alright, or, did you want to watch something else?”

After a glance at the screen you said, “It’s a classic.” His next glance between you and the screen stirred you to sit up, turn and scoot over to the bare spot beside him against the propped up pillows to wait until the timer on the oven went off. A distant beep tore you from your timid conversation over the low points in the plot signaling you to go and fetch the lasagna form the oven. With a deep chuckle Thranduil fixed the blankets when you returned with the metal tray on a towel you set between you holding two forks inside. After a quick trip to the kitchen to fetch the drinks you were back barely a foot away from him stirring up his grin again with his imaginings of being able to close the distance between you one day soon.

When leftovers were put away you came back to the room catching him shifting in the bed and you asked, “I brought back some healing creams from the shop after work, you want to try some?”

He nodded, “If you wouldn’t mind.”

A wry chuckle left you and you returned with the tin to sit on the bed beside his new spot nearer to the center of the bed where he curled his legs in front of him. Wetting your lips you helped him remove his shirt revealing the darker bruises across his ribs and back. The lid popped off after a few moments of struggle stirring up his smirk at your adorable scowl at the difficult tin that dropped instantly in your head tilting back to look at him again.

A swipe of your fingers in the cream later you smoothed it across his chest and sides through his deep breaths to keep from flinching at your touching his tender skin. With eyes lingering on you until you moved to sit behind him he remained still, only moving to shift his loosening braid over his shoulder then shut his eyes in regret at the flinch he gave when your fingers touched the back of his shoulder.

“Sorry.”

He shook his head, “Don’t be. It’s not you, skin’s just tender.”

“I would say sleeping on your side if your ribs weren’t so bad, maybe a pillow under your chest if you slept on your stomach tonight might help?”

In a glance back at you he flashed you a grin, “I could try it.”

Slowly your fingers sank down his side with your eyes locked on his, the touch making him shiver reminding you to look back to what you were doing. When your eyes sank his lingered on you for a moment before he looked back to the start of the next film making his brows furrow curiously at what it could be totally distracting him from your shift to the side of the bed. Turning his head he grinned at your sitting in front of him saying, “Let’s see if we can find a face under these bruises.”

Deeply he chuckled and wet his lips inching closer to you already feeling the warm creams sinking into his skin easing some of his bruises. “Maybe that might help me jog a name up.” Weakly you chuckled and lowered your eyes to the tin for another swipe of creams you raised to start at his forehead. Gingerly you coated his face around the bandage you had added the night before, over his cheeks noting the already fading bruises around his cheekbone and down to his swollen jaw.

Another swipe later you coated it fully and started on the other side going from top to bottom with a swipe over his nose in the middle. Lastly you dabbed a bit onto the tip of your finger then looked up at dropped your head to start giggling at his exaggerated pucker that broke at your laughter stirring painfully loud laughs from him. “Sorry, I had to.”

Still with a faint blush on your cheeks you shook your head and looked up still giggling and raised your fingers to smooth the cream to coat his lips fully. The splits sealed almost instantly taking a good chunk of the swelling too. You shook your head and he raised a brow, “Cheekbones for days.” Making him chuckle again, “My Naneth said that was why she picked my Ada,” his grin inched out at the momentary furrow of your brows over a playful glint in your eyes repeating, “Amazing cheekbones, bright eyes and you should have seen the way he handled his stallions in his video he sent me.”

Another chuckle escaped him and he asked, “I bet they love it out here then. Tons of room to ride.”

Weakly you chuckled and you replied, “It was arranged. They both live in Doriath with my grandparents.” Making his smile dim a bit seeing the pain hiding in your eyes.

“How did you end up out here?”

“Um, well I was sent to visit one of my, well he’s technically my uncle’s son, him and his family. And my brothers refused to let me come alone. Then they sealed the gates when Gondolin sealed theirs. We lived in Lothlorien for a while then Rumil and Orophin got work and relationships out here so we found a place to settle. Any clue where you’re from?”

He shook his head, “I think I heard my Ada in our last call though.” He chuckled weakly, “Sounded like he wanted to rush in here and steal me away.”

“If they did I would understand.”

“Ah, I think I calmed them down. It is so relaxing out here, I can’t imagine what my life was like before and trying to wonder what I could have to return to is daunting. At least as far as wondering what I could have done to be worth abducting.”

You nodded and set the tin on the table by his bed then moved to glance out the window when he tugged his shirt back on, “You want some cocoa?”

Meeting his eye you caught his nod and you stood offering him your hand, “Come on, you can’t miss this.”

With a grin he stood accepting your hand to climb to his feet, curiously he accepted your steadying him by resting his arm over your shoulders wondering where you were taking him. Passing the hall, living room and kitchen he noticed the homey touches to the cottage he hoped to explore more when his head stopped hurting when he stood. But reaching the front door he peered down at you curiously as you eased it open and led him outside. “Where are we going?”

“Swing.” You caught his eye under the curls his arm was pushing back into your face deepening his grin, “Clear view over the pastures.” Around the corner you guided him and helped him onto the swing pulling the footrest closer from the banister so he could lounge back as you stood saying, “I’ll get the cocoa.”

He nodded and watched you trotting back towards the door and into the house before he finally looked out into the distance. Far as the eye could see he spotted rolling green hills coated in golden light of the setting sun shining around the gorgeous horses grazing in the distance stealing glances at him in return. A mug appeared in front of him and his grin returned wrapping his hand around the warm pottery as you set down a tray where your feet would go in your move to take your seat beside him.

“Your Majesty, she’s leading him outside.”

Oropher, “What?” The King rushed over to the war room again, “Where is she leading him?” He asked staring at the speakerphone from the guard on watch.

“The porch swing, sir. Now she’s coming back again, with a tray.”

“A tray?!” Oropher’s hands clenched and he swallowed dryly unable to lower the lump in his throat.

“I believe it is cocoa sir.”

Softly Oropher whispered to himself, “Cocoa?”

“He’s drinking it…Oh wait, now he’s lowering it, she is reaching for something on the tray…It’s marshmallows, she added some to his drink, and now he’s drinking it.”

Oropher shifted on his feet that were still sore from his full day of meetings and public visits, all while pretending everything was fine, “What is going on?” He asked out loud in thought.

Only to hear in return, “It appears they are watching the sunset, sir.” He groaned and rubbed his face standing silently for a few minutes until he heard, “Now there’s a small firebowl, it appears they are making smores.”

Oropher shook his head saying, “Just, keep me posted.” Then walked out of the room mumbling until he reached his bedroom where Taule had just changed after her shower and looked over at him eagerly, “They’re watching the sunset, with cocoa, and smores.”

Unable to help it Taule smiled softly as he barged into their closet throwing away his jacket and tie. Following him she stilled him with a single touch and helped him out of his shirt smiling up at him as she did, “I believe, he might have been right. This Princess Pear might actually be simply protecting him.”

He sighed and met her eye saying, “Either way, I can’t think of how to turn cocoa and sunsets sinister. But still-,”

Taule slid her hands up over his chest and shoulders making him take in a deep breath at her arms snaking around his neck, “I would love to have him home, but, if he is truly gaining her trust, and possibly her affections, who is to say she isn’t sincere and could have been drawn by Eru to save our son. For now, let’s focus on the fact, that he is comfortably in quite a romantic secluded location with a High Born Princess. The only, unwed High Born Princess left in Middle Earth.”

Oropher sighed smoothing his hands around her middle leaning in to press his forehead to hers, “True.”

With a weak chuckle she started a sway to her hips and began to hum making him fold tighter around her in their stolen dance, “I remember the last time we sat up with the sunset.”

Oropher chuckled asking, “Is that supposed to be some subtle hint?” She shrugged and he chuckled lowering to lift her into his arms then carry her out onto their balcony to their lounge to catch right in the middle of the gold light giving its bright goodbye to everyone to welcome the night onwards. Tightly he folded around her under the blanket he collected along the way trying to hope that you truly were sincere and this wasn’t some sort of ruse using his son as a pawn in some game.

In the middle of his first bite into the smore you had helped him make you pointed out in the creeping darkness while the stars flickered out slowly, “Right, over, that tree.” His eyes followed your finger spotting the pair of swans soaring under the rising moon towards the lake in the distance, “When you can walk farther I’ll show you the pond, we get swarms of swans out here. If you time it just right you can beat them out with a boat, but then you always get stuck, cuz they refuse to move and, well then they try to overtake the boat.” His eyes locked onto your face at your distracted wide grin remembering it all only deepening his awed grin at you, “And in the spring, just little cygnets everywhere. It gets so loud sometimes, but they are just-,”

Your head turned and your words stopped seeing the way he was looking at you instantly making your cheeks heat up in a blush that started over your thankfully covered ears, in a near whisper he finished your sentence, “Breath taking.”

A flinch from you tore your eyes away from his clear attempt at inching closer when Rumil came walking up with a lantern in hand chuckling as he raised his own supply of smore ingredients, “Imagined you might be out here.” He moved around you claiming a spare wicker chair he moved closer to the swing, setting his supplies down while you sipped deeply from your cup as he stirred up a lively conversation lasting until your first yawn.

A helpful hand later Thranduil watched as you carried the supplies inside and Rumil helped him to bed after you had said your goodnights. A stolen hug and a kiss on the cheek later you were in bed as he locked up behind him. Gently you patted your warm cheeks mentally debating yourself if you had imagined the lean in or not. Carefully a pillow was laid out and in a roll Thranduil settled over it nuzzling his face into another. Thankful for the creams making that far less painful and at least for a few minutes he tried the position only to roll back over again sleeplessly glaring at the ceiling as if it was its fault his mind would not let him rest.

The feel of your skin and hair on his bare arm still burned into his skin as if calling out to you to join him again. So muting the tv he turned on the subtitles and decided to try and dull himself to sleep. But hours had passed and in a turn to grab his water the mute was switched off, unknowingly signaling you from your own sleepless pile of sheets to his being up still possibly.

In a creeping path to his doorway you spotted him fumbling for the remote and pause when you said, “There’s usually some good ones on the Cyprus channel this time of night.”

“I didn’t wake you?”

You shook your head, “No, too much sugar before bed I guess.”

In an easy flick he brushed back the covers welcoming you to cuddle up beside him and grinned as he switched the channel finding a suitable film to watch. It didn’t take long at all though for you both to drop heavily to sleep.

Yet another alarm tugged you out of sleep and away from the giant wrapped around a pillow on his stomach barely a few inches from you with a finger tangled in a stray strip of your long curls. Gently you pulled the strip from his hold and you snuck your way out of bed and to the kitchen to fix up a breakfast, through which you heard a groan and a slumping figure dropping into one of the dining room chairs.

“How’s your head?”

Behind you the groggy velvety voice answered, “Not too terribly awful today. Made the distance. Room’s stopped spinning, another nap or two and I should be right as rain. Or maybe just a dunk in some of those herbs and oils of yours.”

You set the food and drinks on the table and sat at the side to his right and filled the seat stealing glances at the Elf doing his best not to blatantly stare in his mental wondering on how to steal a kiss on your cheek or even hand if able. Though the awkward squawk of a distant bird turned his head distracting him from his chance while the second ring of his phone freed you to slip away with a gentle pat on his arm off to work again.

With a groan he made his way to his room where he grabbed the phone only to see an unsaved number. Setting it down he turned to the bathroom to turn on the tap before wandering into the next room over to grab another set of clothes in his size he set down on the sink before returning to the phone. Hastily he flipped it open seeing the voicemail icon,

‘Hey sugar plum. It’s your Ned, um, must have gotten my dates mixed up or missed you. I’ve tried emailing you and I managed to search out and press one of the ladies you worked with who was all too eager to pass over your number when I asked. So, just give me a call so we can find a time to fly you back out here when I’m free.’

Again when he lowered the phone he felt his brows tighten into a deep scowl when the same number flashed up. Without pause he hit talk and briskly stated, “Miss Pear has no intention of seeing you again. She has witnessed your temper and poor demeanor in conversation in public and decided against continuing your acquaintance.”

A flick of his finger later shut the phone ending the call earning another grumble from him in his move to sit by the tub. Leaving the phone on the ground by his towel he leaned over to add the salts and oils mumbling, “If anyone is going to her Ned it’s me.” He jerked his shirt off over his head against the painful sting in his ribs and let it fall to the floor beside him, on which he added his sweats and briefs before easing his legs over to start his sink into the tub.

Reaching up he undid his braid and he leaned back waiting until the tub was full to shut off the water mumbling, “Pitiful excuse of a suitor. What sort of man insults those serving him?” His argument silencing in his dunk under the water to wet his face and head still arguing against the man’s intentions towards you then rose again to ring out his hair he twisted into a bun then lounged back in the hot water continuing his complaints until the phone rang again.

A grin split his mood and he answered, “Naneth, sleep well?”

…

Five days had passed and the silent just missed moments between you weighed heavily on you both. Mainly the brief applications of cream to his face where he would dream of nothing but crashing his lips hungrily into yours, finally answering his lingering question if you tasted every bit of green apples and vanilla as you gave off their tempting scent that lingered even in his dreams.

A few more baths and naps between meals with you had started to bring back trickles here and there of his former life. The largest of being his title, another solitary rant at yet another message demanding clarification from this other Ned halted with his all but shouting about his being ‘no more than a commoner.’

That phrase dug his heels in and made him turn with brows furrowing in confusion while a sterner voice repeated a long since heard lecture, “You must remember, no matter your One, the Wife you choose must be one worthy of the title of Queen. A shrinking violet will do little to gain adoration from our people. Queens must cast a bright shadow in which all can find hope in their King to guide them through the darkness ahead. Remember that, my son.”

Like a switch that mental dam was broken and it all came flooding back, title, past and how he was taken along with why. Those same Easterlings you had mentioned marching about being banned from Arnor had planned this. Spouting on about how they would use his release to force King Arathorn to drop his ban and release their imprisoned kin. A deep chuckle left him at how you had foiled this plan so innocently.

From the bouts of news he’d seen the ban had been enforced with all prisoners found guilty punished accordingly, most hung for the murders they had enacted. The lands of Arnor were far safer than they were before, and all owed to you. Now as a Prince, knowing all he had been taught, he recounted each moment and word from you again finding them to be entirely genuine with no plot behind them.

“Surrogate..” Pacing in the living room waiting for your return for lunch his mind hovered over your limitless admirable qualities he would inform his parents of to plead his case for their blessing, only to pause at remembering, “Only nobles use surrogates to continue their lines.” He groaned running his hand over his face, “Why did I not pay more attention to the Vanyar family lines…”

Pacing again he wet his lips saying, “Alright, Orophin is marrying a Lady, so he must be a Lord or higher, meaning Jaqi would also be a Lady, if only I knew her Naneth’s name…They are her half brothers…” The sound of your brother’s car pulling up the driveway stirred a plotting grin onto his face.

In an all too eager hop he met Orophin at the end of the porch stirring up his curious grin making him ask, “You’re in a cheerful mood Ned. Jaqi’s herbs finally got you fully mended?”

“For the most part. Though, I merely hoped to ask you something.”

“Shoot.” Wetting his lips as his hand settled on the column beside him.

“It might be a bit of an awkward question, but, your intended is a Lady.”

Orophin nodded, “Yes.”

“Jaqi never mentioned your titles, and I was trying to imagine how lavish of an affair it would be. I started to remember a few things and the weddings I’ve been invited to for Ladies have varied greatly depending on who they were marrying.”

Orophin nodded, “Well our Ada is Halmir, Lord of People of Halethin of Brethil. A title I am third in line to inherit.” Thranduil nodded uncertain of how the match was made to appeal to her parents. The look on his face made Orophin chuckle and pat his shoulder, “My Lady is my One. The match was hard won, until they bothered to inquire into our family and discovered I was Jaqi’s brother.”

“What could her title be to ease such a gap?”

Orophin chuckled saying, “Her Grandfather is High Prince Elmo, brother to-,”

“High King Thingol of Doriath.”

Orophin nodded and chuckled again leading him inside, “The daughter of the second child of the brother third in line for the throne of Doriath. Not quite an easy path to the throne, however, as the only living female born of Thingol’s nieces and nephews she deservedly has earned her title of High Born Princess, even if she merely works as a nurse.” He grinned tapping a finger to his lips, “Though don’t tell her I told you. It has been wearing her thin wondering how to drop that bag of cats onto your lap without you assuming she’s after your sperm or something.” He wet his lips, “Any clue on your title yet?” Thranduil shook his head ready to ask why until he heard, “You mentioned your son was born from a surrogate. Only Lords or higher use surrogates.”

Thranduil’s brow ticked up and he shrugged merely shaking his head asking, “Would it matter greatly?”

Orophin shook his head, “Not that I can imagine. Ada would be eager to meet anyone able to claim our sister’s heart. The only ones caring about a title would be her Naneth’s line, though I doubt Jaqi would really put too much weight in her refusal on a match.”

Thranduil shifted to face him fully, “Why is that?”

“She’s never met her in person. Not long before Jaqi was born her Naneth had already found her One, married and conceived herself. Ada lived with us in Lothlorien until his Ada fell ill and he left us there to take his place, met his One not long after. For Jaqi there have been a great deal of demands put forward, mainly for her security, though so far down the line of Kings Lord Elrond and his kin would all be ahead of Jaqi, though she would be ahead of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel.”

“I believe I understand. She does not face the daily tasks or weight of her title-,” he commented on his way to pour himself some juice.

“It has more to do with the fact she feels her Naneth abandoned her.” Thranduil paused, looking at him with juice in hand while his lips parted, “Two phone calls a year packed with demands and her distant cousin Elanor enforcing her choosing a match for a child doesn’t grant her any of Jaqi’s allegiance. Elmo at least has shown her greater kindness then demanding an heir, even spent decades with us before the border being sealed off. Even he wishes her to follow her heart seeing how that relationship had shaped her opinions towards tradition.”

Thranduil nodded then raised the bottle asking, “Juice?”

Orophin nodded then asked at his still stunned expression, “Too much information?”

Thranduil shook his head setting two glasses on the table he filled then turned to return the bottle to the fridge, “No, it shows a great deal of her past and her character.” Orophin’s lips parted assuming he had been misunderstood, “Now, forgive my wording, by her character I mean, her placing importance over the treatment of others rather than political or, otherwise daunting demands placed upon herself or others. Not a lot of noblewomen choose that path. Please do not mistake me, I find it incredibly admirable.”

Orophin chuckled, “She’s always loved being the odd duck in the bunch.” Making him chuckle then raise his glass to his lips hiding his creeping grin knowing how your union couldn’t be seen as anything but perfect. Though your car neared and he lowered his glass to turn and fetch you one then hurried into setting out the meal he had fixed for you, welcoming you home with a wide smile. No mentions of titles were shared on the lunch but you and your brother noticed the clear sift in the barely bruised man between you.

Pt 4

#Thranduil x Reader OC #Hobbit #lotr

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pkmntrainergreyze · 5 years

Text

You. Alone (Gerard Way Imagine)

Continuation of this imagine: https://urietarded-boyd.tumblr.com/post/163861624236/there-might-be-something-across-the-booth-gerard

Warning ⚠: This short story includes stalking and kidnapping. If you find those topics sensitive I highly suggest you skip this oneshot

The more he inched closer to peak into (Y/n)'s window, the more fogged up the glass became.

Gerard's glove-less hands trembled as the cold began forming icecaps in his nails. The poor clothing decisions sprang more evident when he realized the neighbors could see his black plastered form in a cherry rooftop, but right now, he couldn't care less.

The red haired boy's nostrils flared in her scent, he was diving through her silky (h/c) locks. Though truth be told, his delusions is far from the cold, damp reality.

Mindlessly, he began drawing the figure inside, gaze barely faltering on his muse. She has his mother's eyes.

Meanwhile, (Y/n) indulged herself in the snacks that scattered her bed. Netflix was turned on and filtered in the (genre) section. She lived in a world so unaware, a blessing for the man outside and a curse in her near future.

Who cares if Frank called dibs on her on seventh grade?

He wouldn't take care of her like he would.

He thought to scoot closer, to add details to the sketch's lashes. But as soon as he left a toe out a loud squeak echoed.

She blinked to his direction.

His dark chocolate pupils blew moon-sized. He scurried to flatten his back down to hide, breathing heavily. He hoped to God she hadn't seen a glimpse of him.

For a boy out in a -7° December night with nothing but his skeleton printed jacket and pajamas, he sure felt bubbly lukewarm inside at the thought of (Y/n) thinking about him, in the dead of the night— no, the objective is to NOT to be seen! Damn it Gerard!

With that, the windows bursted open, with a perplexed girl bobbing her head out. She seemed agitated while she looked outside.

Nothing.

"Geez" She pouted and shrugged the weight off her chest.

One cannot simply flop to their bed knowing the slightest chance of having a stalker outside. So she retreated back to her windows and sealed it shut, and draped the red curtains like how they end a show.

But it was far from over.

The stage was set, and the microphone had never looked so lonely in her life. Yet she couldn't seem to inch closer to accompany it. Her feet seem to stub if she tried to move closer.

Instead, she stepped back and sat to the farthest seat, scoffing and cursing at the obstacles preventing her access to the front row.

A brunette was beside her, crunching tacos. The scent was so spread out she could sniff the fresh vegetables without effort. She felt something light fell on her foot. Something very green. She was about to turn and scold whoever ruined the mood. Who would put so much lettuce on their tacos?!

Oh, hello Tyler Joseph.

He's the singer of twentyonepilots, and also one of Miss Flack's students. He's not the most favorite, but he couldn't be categorized as a teacher's pet either. He attend the same music class, and when he does he's silently taking notes in the corner. They talk sometimes, but for the most part her cousin Josh is around to start the conversation. Without the dandelion-coloured boy, the topic would solely be about music sheets, his parents at school, or his brothers.

Which happens once a month.

She shut her mouth tight. Tyler seemed obscure from her exasperation however, as he continued to chew rather loudly. She cleared her throat and he looked at her with a inquirer's nod.

She paused for a moment, eyes glued on the chipped food as she spoke "Aren't you supposed to cover Twist And Shout after Pierce The Veil?"

Tyler squeaked and jumped. A landslide of taco chunks fell to the ground. Some of condiments fell on (Y/n)'s shoes as well. The two gawked, it took quite a while before an explosion of apologies bursted from Tyler's mouth.

She inevitably facepalmed.

"Imsosorry!!!"

"It's fine Tyler" She forgave him once again "a little vegetable wouldn't hurt anyone"

She never mentioned an as I told you, she haven't noticed that she had it in her to be so patient.

He stared at his own unstained pair of shoes, avoiding eye contact.

(Wasn't the saying supposed to be water?)

"Are you here to watch Frank's band?" Once Tyler asked the question, a mental image of the guitarist jumping around resurfaced inside her head. She nodded, with a Cheshire grin.

"Hell yeah!–well, and yours too"

He nodded back and chewed his taco slowly, eyes roaming around the gymnasium.

"Also, where's Josh? I saw Miss Flack's trying to find him to set up the drum kit"

"Probably with Brendon" He rolled his eyes and snarled "having a good time"

At a split second, she saw Tyler's right eye twitch. This time he devoured his food rather harsher, and rather than his usual soothing voice she received quite a feral bark. She decided it's best not to push him further.

As the silence resumes, his dinner did the same. She boredly stared at the stage, both nervous and excited about her friend's performance as if it was her own. Both have mutual feelings about that microphone, yet one had it more repressed than the other.

They just sat, undisturbed.

Well, until Mark— Tyler's best friend— rushed over with an unlaced shoe flying out, nearly hitting (Y/n).

Like any other calm, a storm arises. Mark entered, his shoe flying out like a stray bullet. As she looked down she noticed the last of his blue shoes were unlaced. If he had been a little more careful then the chances of her landing on Dream world would be very thin. He stood there, unapologetic, agitated.

"Josh has been gone for 13 minutes Tyler!" He yelled, forcefully grabbing Tyler's shoulder and shaking it, making it seem like a seizure than a wake-up call. Tyler can be heard muttering questions, too bad Mark's roars outnumbered his "Where the heck is he?!"

In the midst of a misunderstanding and choking noises, the faintest sound of bells and chimes resonated from your pocket. Her cellphone kept vibrating, screaming for her to take it. When she did fished it out, Mark managed to stop himself from committing a murder.

She pointed to her phone, then the backdoor. Mark sheepishly told her to continue after nodding in understanding. Tyler took it as an opportunity to strip himself a breath. (Y/n) walked out of the door, leaning her back

Maybe she should have helped Tyler regain his breathing, get to know Mark better, and stayed safe in general.

She tapped twice and saw the caller's ID. The string of numbers did not belong to he contacts, nor her history of blocked spam numbers. She furrowed her eyebrows in irritation. Great, another one of those you won a hundred thousand dollars, just give us your address, credit card and other bullshit!

As she tapped the green phone icon, she schemed a way to deal with the... transaction.

Once she slid her fingers to answer the phone, there was no turning back.

"Hello?" She tried to hide her groan, she really did to play safe in case it was her mom, but the guttering sound reached her throat.

"Good evening (Y/n)!" The voice chirped. Gerard? Hmm, when did she gave him her number. Well, he is Frank's friend after all. Doesn't change the fact it feels strange to hear his voice on the phone...

"Um, is this Gerard?" She chuckled and the voice didn't return the happy echoes.

"I have Josh with me"

The voice dropped dead. And there it was again, the feeling of being watched. Her laughter came to a stop. Her paranoia was toggled on. She gasped slightly.

"If you want to get him, go to the boiler room"

You furrowed your eyebrows. Can't Tyler do that instead? He is the one that should be looking for him in the first place.

"I'll call Ty—"

"No"

(Y/n) turned perplexed. She mimicked his word without breath.

"I want you"

"You. Alone"

Click.

The call was over.

Her breath hitched and body rigid. She clinged to her phone, uneasy. Hell, kind of conversation was that? It sounded psychotic, but she has no evidence to make it valid. It's just small talk. Small talk that made her feel uncomfortable. Strange, it's not like the quiet young raven haired artist gave a death threat.

But it doesn't seem harmless either.

She sighed, shaking. Where was the boiler room again? Beside the janitor's closet? No, that's class 304.

She shook her head. It's probably under the gym.

Her footsteps echoed throughout the hall. It was noiseless. As she furthered down the boiler, sweat balled down her forehead. She isn't even feeling the heat just yet, making her sweat cold, fear induced.

It's just Gerard. He's harmless.

Right?

Dang it. The hell is Josh doing on the boiler room with Gerard anyways? Why does she have to fetch him? He's a grown man with two feet.

Fuck, did he sprain an ankle again—

Boiler Room.

The words were carved in metal, or painted wood. She stood in front of it, reluctantly opening the door.

There stood a sable haired boy, wearing a red bandana and a lustrous leather jacket. It was just him.

Gerard alone.

"Where's Josh?" She held the doorknob firmly. One foot in the boiler room and one foot out the door. Gerard stared at her eyes, too long for her taste. When she was about to snap him he broke out of the trance himself. He fumbled to reach a tablet behind him and passed it to her.

Her heart dropped to the floor along with her jaw.

A man she hoped wasn't her cousin was tied down. She was all too familiar to figure out it was one of the school's student chairs. If it was possible to gawk even further she would have a heart attack after seeing Josh's figure tattered in bruises and knife deep cuts. He was stained in brown, dried blood from oxidation.

If Tyler was here, he would say he'd rather have Josh ignore him for a week than see him like this.

"W-was it you?!" She looked at Gerard, eyes wide and awoken by the bitterest truth of what was in front of her. A monster.

Gerard gazed back, stoic. She could feel the remorse-less Gerard felt without fitting his shoes— and she was utterly digusted. She want to vomit at his leather jacket, or alternatively, lunge forward and choke him for this sick prank.

Yet the opposite can be said for him. The ugly emotions that broke her made her the most beautiful woman to walk on earth. Oh, he was having a good time.

"Y-You..." Both words and emotions piled up in her throat, asking permission to slip out. When she did, the invisible hand that choked her finally left her be "Y-You psychopath!"

"Well I'd consider you a fool if you didn't notice" Gerard scoffed, amused.

(Y/n)'s nose scrunched at this, unable to comprehend how the man before her made it sound like antisocial personality disorder is okay.

Gerard folded his arms and raised his chin, snickering faintly.

(Y/n) looked back at the tablet, hands shaking "Josh, is that you?"

Josh moved, mumbling words similar to white noise. "(Y/n)?"

She froze in disbelief.

"You're a smart girl, you know what I'm about to say next"

There are multiple possibilities, and the obvious one is the one who desperately cleave to be wrong. She shook her head, groaning on the mental pain he had caused her.

But what else does her stalker want from her?

He stared at her, with patient eyes that dared to command her to say something.

Out of both fear and naivety, she did.

"You... want me to date you" She sobbed "for Josh to be free?"

Gerard sighed, staring at the ground. This time, instead of her own impulse, she felt his disappointment.

But why? What's with the sudden shift in the atmosphere?

"You flatter yourself too much"

What?

He chuckled "Ahh, just kidding. Yes. That's correct"

With that, the shift came to be consumed by the side she wished hadn't won.

Despair.

This 'man' just played with her emotions like strings in a puppet.

She can't remove her eyes on the tablet. It was the exact opposite of love at first sight— the deranged brother of it.

It's twisted. Too catatonic and too callous.

"Soooo..." He drags in, making (Y/n) jump. He bobbed his head in her shoulder and peaks in to see the light in those (e/c) eyes drain "what's it gonna be?"

Neither.

Josh has been with her since thick and thin. The man whom she wished was her brother instead of a cousin that visits her every weekend will die.

The boy that knows her darkest secrets.

"I'm..."

The brother who continues to support her.

"I'm yours"

The man that tried to get rid of Gerard Arthur Way last night.

Gerard grinned, so wide he might as well cut off his cheeks. He rushed towards her, pulling her tighter. He finally breathed into her scent. Tears rolled down his cheeks.

Is the same man she saved with her decision.

He can finally make up for the time his family did not appreciate him. All the support he didn't got. All the jealousy he built up after hearing his mother shower his brother with compliments.

His dream just became a reality.

But it costed (Y/n)'s sanity.

This isn't what her parents have taught her about love. This isn't her mom's bed time stories or the Disney princess collection CDs her dad brought home. Love is mature. It's about trust and the feeling of security and lasts for what her classmates do not believe in; forever.

And most especially, it's not a choice.

She can't just go and say from the bottom of your heart that she'll love this monstrosity for the rest of her life.

That is ill

But if going out with a man like him is what people think makes up the definition of love.

Then they don't believe in love.

#gerard way x reader #gerard way imagines #gerard way imagine #my chemical romance #imagines #x readers #tyler joseph #josh dun #frank iero

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tabletoptrinketsbyjj · 6 years

Text

Trinkets, Worthless, 6: These trinket are garbage plain and simple. They would be termed vendor trash or junk loot in video games. They aren’t touched by stray magic or mystery as with regular trinkets, aren’t made from valuable materials and aren’t particularly useful even if they aren’t damaged.

A belt pouch filled with small multicolored glass pebbles

A belt pouch full of fish scales

A hand sized figurine of a house formed of fired clay painted outlandish colours.

A hollow 8x3 inch cylinder made from polished granite.

A horsehair paintbrush so clumped with paint, it’s useless.

A knife and fork carved from a giant's ribs

A large brass key with worn teeth. A strip of red-coloured string hangs from one end.

A large bunch of similar keys that fit various locks. One key (Of a different style from the rest) is small and rusty.

A large decorative pillow

A large flat pebble with a smaller pebble nestled inside it

---Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

---Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

A belt pouch filled with small multicolored glass pebbles

A belt pouch full of fish scales

A hand sized figurine of a house formed of fired clay painted outlandish colours.

A hollow 8x3 inch cylinder made from polished granite.

A horsehair paintbrush so clumped with paint, it’s useless.

A knife and fork carved from a giant's ribs

A large brass key with worn teeth. A strip of red-coloured string hangs from one end.

A large bunch of similar keys that fit various locks. One key (Of a different style from the rest) is small and rusty.

A large decorative pillow

A large flat pebble with a smaller pebble nestled inside it

A large fossilized egg

A large piece of shell from a dragon’s egg

A large tin canister filled with dozens of grey misshapen goblin candies. They are as hard as a rock and taste like scummy pond water drunk from a dirty ashtray.

A leather scroll tube crudely painted bright blue. It is stoppered with a leather bung that clips into the place. The bung has been painted red.

A leather strap tied with ten assorted predator's claws

A length of black cloth with eye holes cut in it, created a crude mask.

A length of string that looks to have been snapped in half and re-tied multiple times.

A long braid of blond hair wrapped around a slender, whittled stick of white wood protected by a scrap of red-hued silk.

A loosely-coiled spring painted in the hues of a rainbow

A map of the continent with a large patch of ocean torn out

A metal comb missing all its tines.

A metal flask, decorated with engravings of a paladin fighting a dragon. Although it is still sealed, whatever liquid was inside has gone sour and tastes foul.

A mummified raven claw

A nine-toothed cog made from cheap tin

A nondescript brown hemp hood with crudely cut eye and mouth holes. The hood looks like it has been fashioned from a small sack. A splatter of dried blood covers the front.

A notepad full of bizarre scribbling detailing strange events, odd occurrences and murdered people. It is barely legible and almost entirely incoherent.

A padlock made of wax with no key

A page of hastily-scribbled mathematical formulas that do not balance out or contain any kind of context or explanation.

A pair of child sized steel scissors

A pair of desiccated human hands, wrapped in barbed wire

A pair of shoes so small, they must be for a baby. They look like they’ve never been worn.

A pair of torn purple stockings

A partially burnt family tree on a canvas sheet.

A partially mended pair of boots along with needle and thread.

A piece of bark carved with a gnarled face

A piece of paper with a grid of 81 squares drawn on it, some containing numbers

A plumb bob that points toward the sky.

A polished apple of curious black color

A polished skull (Its top removed) filled with foul smelling incense

A poorly mummified cat

A pouch containing four links of bloodstained chain ending in a single bloody manacle. Close examination reveals hairs stuck in the dried blood on the manacle. A snapped off key fills the manacle’s lock.

A pouch containing a variety of small finger bones clearly “harvested” from a variety of different creatures. Each is in pristine condition, all the skin and tissue having been boiled away.

A pouch made of flesh, with a sinew drawstring

A preserved dead raven.

A preserved eyeball attached to a spindly eye-stalk; the nerves twitch occasionally

A preserved pair of ears that look to be torn off a goblin.

A preserved square of tattooed skin

A pulsing seed pod that is always warm to the touch.

A rabbit’s foot, dyed purple.

A ragged pair of bright green trousers. The seat of the trousers is missing, all that remains is a jagged hole clearly made by something large…with teeth

A random scattering of gears and rivets.

A ransom note for an unknown personage

A razor-sharp piece of metal wrapped in a bloody bandage

A right arm broken off from a statue

A ring of keys for forgotten locks

A ring of metal with strange symbols carved into it that glow randomly.

A ripped yellow silk shirt, with a bloody cuff, rolled into a tight ball.

A rock with a patch of curious purple moss

A rose stem with the thorns still on, but all the petals plucked.

A rotten burlap bag filled with three elven skulls

A scold's bridle.

A scrap of animal hide with bizarre markings

A scrap of crumbled parchment bearing the name of a half-dozen locals.

A scrap of parchment filled with deranged ramblings about “the lord’s vengeance”, the “end of all things” and a “blood sacrifice”.

A scrap of wood engraved with half of a ship’s name

A scrawled bill from a shady fortune teller.

A scrimshawed human femur

A scroll case and scroll scribed with an unfinished spell

A scroll case that appears to have been crafted from a giant's arm bone. Inside is a small strip of vellum that would seem to tie a scroll shut. Along its scarlet-dyed length are markings like a map, but most are faded away

A scroll containing a spell that seems to have no effect

A set of brown and green leather juggling balls

A set of iron spurs

A severed finger that’s still wearing a tarnished brass ring that cannot be removed

A shard of flint with a decorative dragon carving

A shard of glass that changes color depending on how it is held up to the light.

A shard of porcelain decorated with tiny painted flowers.

A sharp dagger, a pile of wood shavings and a partially carved chunk of wood. The carving is crude and unfinished; it might represent a bird, but then again it might not.

A shattered piece of minotaur horn

A sheet of paper, blank except for a dot in the middle and the words “You are here.”

A shrunken head of a human child

A shrunken human head with buttons sewn over the eyes

A single acorn formed of pyrite.

A single polished knucklebone wrapped in a scrap of thin, red cloth.

A small pouch filled with dozens of multi-colored wooden beads whose paint is chipped and fading.

A small pouch full of oddly-dented, painted metal disks with jagged edges

A straw effigy of a prominent local. Parts of it have been singed with fire.

A small tin flask filled with terrible tasting whiskey

A cheap pulp pamphlet on how to train cobra snakes to dance to flute music.

A crude brooch of Orcish design

A warped oaken quarterstaff that is all but unusable

A pair of rusty manacles

A pouch holding three dozen copper coat buttons

A poorly lacquered elk thighbone

A worn bear pelt that has evidently spent many long years as a rug

A ceramic jar of various species of dried seeds. Further inspection show that none of them are edible or viable for growing.

A dented tin crown

A small wooden mermaid statue that requires finishing touches

A rug made of winter wolf hide that has seen better days

A carefully detailed drawing of a halfling toe.

A large, steel padlock without a matching key.

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sasha-chambers · 3 years

Text

Short Horror Stories: The Little Blue Door

In the late Victorian age of England, a small noble family purchased a manor sitting on the edge of a small town in the country side as a summer home, eager to get time away from the bustling noise and chaos of the center of London. The village near the manor was a small, quiet place surrounded by farm land with the manor itself sat atop one of the many rolling hills with a forest hugging the back and sides of the manor and a single road running down the front towards the village. Upon arriving and beginning to unload their luggage, the two children of the family immediately began to run amuck about the house, mapping out the entire place as they looked for the best places to play and hide.

No long after, the parents were dragged upstairs to the second floor by their children to a strange door that sat at the end of one of the hallways. The door itself was a deep blue in color and upon opening it all that they found was the brick wall behind it. The door did not even seem to be the remnants of a room that was once part of the manor as the wall behind the door was the outside wall of the manor, which had not been changed since its construction, leaving the reason for the door being there a complete mystery to the family. Baring it no mind, the family pushed the door shut and resumed their exploration of their new home while the staff that they had brought within them brought their belongings inside and began to see to the needs to the house that had not had occupants for at least a year, dusting off cobwebs, stoking fires and beginning to cook food for the coming evening.

During the coming days the family had nothing to complain about going about their summer home, spending time in the countryside and among the people of the small village they now called neighbors. However, just as the very presence of the blue door faded from their minds, a night came when the father of the family was awoken by a sudden drop in temperature within the master bedroom. After firmly securing the covers around his wife, the father began to wander about the house, checking every window and door to see where the draft might possibly be coming from. As he moved about the house, he noticed that certain areas were colder than others and when following the cold, he found the source to be that blue door, a draft seeming to be flowing from beneath it. Yet, when opening the door, he was once again met with nothing but the brick wall behind it and the temperature around him suddenly returned to normal, even when placing his hand against the brick wall he felt no cold.

The father pushed the incident from his mind and returned to bed for the night, but that incident did not remain solitary for long. At first it was small instances, cold spots appearing around the house, plants suddenly being wilted and covered in frost, windows frosting over. But then, the incidents became far more unnerving as the children of the family began to report sounds of slow, thudding footsteps waking them up in the middle of the night, roaming back and forth throughout the house before stopping outside of their room, the distinct sound of slow, rattling breaths lingering outside the door, a thin cold mist seeping in from under the crack until the footsteps once again moved away from the room and disappeared into the depths of the house once more.

Just as the family were beginning to consider leaving their summer home for good and selling it back off as quickly as they could, They all found themselves rudely awakened in the middle of the night as the entire house became encased in ice, every window and door seemingly frozen solid so that they were incapable of leaving, their very breath turning to mist as they rushed around, desperately attempting to escape yet seemingly unable to even damage the ice that had sealed them within their home. Then, they all stopped in their tracks as they heard heavy footsteps coming down the stairs towards the main hall where they had gathered. Soon the source of the footsteps revealed itself, a tall, hunched figure wrapped in torn black rags, it’s face hidden by a hood but its bare hands and feet displaying skin black with frost bite that stretched and cracked with every movement to reveal the crimson muscle and sinew beneath before rapidly healing over.

Before the figure could come any closer, the father drew a pistol that he had kept by his side since they had become trapped and aimed true for the face of the figure, the shot striking squarely in the middle of its brow and snapping its head back, causing its hood to slide back off its head. The figures head fell back forward yet it remained on it’s feet, its face slowly reforming to reveal a gaunt face lacking a nose, lips or ears, thin scraggly white hair barely covering it’s scalp while its eyes were sunken, the edges bloodshot while the irises and pupils were both milky white. The creature resumed its slow advance towards them with the father gathering his family behind him and snatching a nearby candle stick to use as a weapon. Yet his efforts once again proved futile as the frail arm of the creature suddenly snapped up to catch the candle stick, the metal instantly freezing over and shattering.

It then proceeded to push both the father and mother aside to get to the children behind them, backing them up against the wall before raising its hands and placing one long, sharp black nail against their foreheads and placing them in some manner of trance as their eyes became milky white and their faces blank. The parents combined their efforts in an attempt to protect their children but everything they did proved useless as the creature once again batted them aside. The creature led the children back upstairs to the blue door, which was now open to a black, cold void with a strong gale blowing out from within it. As they reached the door, the father made one last effort to protect his family, having procured a knife and drove it into the back of the creature, to which it finally seemed to have enough as it turned on its heel and grabbed his hand, his skin turning the same pitch black as the creatures before his entire lower arm shattered into icy chunks, leaving him writhing on the floor in agony as the creature lowered its hand on the shoulder of one of the children. Before blacking out the father caught a glimpse of the creature's skin seeming to brighten, becoming softer and greyer in color before returning to its original state as it removed its hand from the child and lead them into the void, the door slamming shut and the house thawing as if nothing had happened.

#short story #horror #ghost #monster #creature #original character #spirit

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ramblinganthropologist · 6 years

Text

No contact(s) needed

Summary: Bo’s not in a good mood. Al is in something else. Hopefully she can find him without much trouble.

---

“Go find Commander Shepard they say... I'm right here, fuckers.”

Bo was in a fine mood as always as she stomped through yet another door that opened to an Alistair free room. For the last five minutes she had been searching for him and along the way had almost taken out two techs and a cleaning robot. All three were now thoroughly terrified her, so at least it wouldn't be happening again anytime soon.

“Get somebody else to go look for him, I got shit to do.” And yet, she had a datapad under her arm detailing some important mission that was supposed to go down on a chunk of rock near Palaven. Honestly, she had checked out on that. When it came to Turians, Alistair was just better at dealing with them. That's why he got to make the galaxy map go and she stayed in the back glaring at anyone who tried to give her paperwork. It was a good system until she had to actually play XO.

Which she had to do right now.

Another room, and still no Alistair. That meant half the ship was effectively checked and she had seen neither hide nor red hair belonging to him. All that was left was the lower deck and a few storage areas. Everything else was cordoned off or filled with stupid. And even he avoided that last one.

“Where the fuck is he?!”

“Have you still been unable to locate the Commander?”

A metallic voice just made her mood even worse. Bo turned on her heel, glaring lasers at the woman standing in front of her. Well, woman was a bit much – AI in a stolen deadly robot body was more accurate. Now, she didn't like EDI; never had, wasn't much for machines. Putting her in a souped up murder roomba didn't help that, even if her ass was amazing. Given how big a lesbian Bo was, that was saying something.

She didn't do robots. That was Tali's thing. Hopefully she was ok and still able to do her thing...

EDI to her credit never shied away. Maybe that was the AI in her. “His omni-tool is pinging off the old storage room on the engineering deck.”

“Finally, some fucking answers.” The biotic turned to leave, but shot a glance over her shoulder. “Thanks. Now stop following me around and fuck off.”

Hopefully she had some fuck off protocol in her programming to make it so. If she didn't... well, when she found Alistair maybe he could program it in. He was good with that sort of thing.

Bo's mood didn't improve upon reaching the engineering deck, however. She tried to avoid looking in, but she caught a glance anyway. There was Engineer Adams, messing with the core or whatever it was he did. To his left, an empty station she knew very well. Hell, she was pretty sure she still had some of the buttons embedded in her back. It should have been used... she should've been there.

It was no sense to dwell on it, though. That would only make her angrier. So, she looked away and kept going. The storeroom EDI had mentioned was a a few doors down, usually sealed because there was no fucking reason to go in there. The door had been locked before, and not even a fist had gotten it open – she had tried twice – but now it was slightly ajar.

Good, she really didn't feel like hearing from some tech that she had broken another door. They will still getting on her about the one two floors up.

She shoved it open with a rough push that smacked it back. Along the way, the door caught on something metallic lying on the floor, but she walked right past it. Inside, it was a little dimly lit, but the light still managed to catch off the back of something.

“Oh shit.”

The soft noises she had been hearing before terminated abruptly with a cracking squeak – Alistair's voice. If she squinted, Bo could maybe make out his form. He was against the wall, and... well, it looked like he was behind some boxes? He was positioned funny, all she could really see were his head and shoulders. Maybe he had been looking for something and gotten stuck?

Not really her problem.

It earned him an eye roll. “Quit fucking around, Al. Here's the damn datapad that you asked for. Read it and get back to whoever the fuck you were talking to. I gotta go send a message.”

She left the datapad on a nearby box and the door slid shut behind her as she left. She was back in the LED light of the hallway, grumbling as she headed towards the elevator. It was going to be a long ride back up, made even longer by her temper.

Oh, and did she mention the headache? That one too. Damn fucking implant.

---

“Fuck that was close.”

Alistair's flushed face was red for an entirely different reason as his shoulders sagged. Somehow, Bo had missed his cast off pants laying a few feet away, his boxers thrown on top with surprising accuracy. They were right next to the cast off condom wrapper, now that he saw it.

Garrus throughout all of this had remained stock still, partially because he was the one holding Alistair up. “She didn't see me?”

“Must not have had her contacts in. Alliance implants just did an upgrade and all, might've caused a migraine.” Alistair glanced below. “And uh... good thing. I don't think she wants to meet little Garrus.”

Ok, so maybe it wasn't the smartest thing he had ever done. It had mostly been the Turian's idea. One smoldering glance and a gentle hip bump had been all it had really taken to go find an empty room and be all over each other.

And... well, in. That too. His legs were starting to get a little sore from being wrapped around Garrus' waist, but it was the only way to keep from slipping and falling ass first onto a very cold, hard metal floor that would have definitely made enough noise to summon somebody who could see better than his sister.

They had barely survived this, never mind living down if anyone else saw.

At the mention of his member, Garrus gave Alistair a hurt look. “Really? Little Garrus?”

That earned him a light smack and a chuckle as the human nuzzled his neck. “Fine, big Garrus. Think he's still game for more, or did my sister scare him back in?”

His light touch to the Turian's sensitive skin had been all that was needed to get things going once again. And this time, the door was fucking locked. They made sure of that as they got back down to pressing matters, ignoring the other kind for a brief moment. That would come in due time, after they were finished.

Though... that might take a while. They had amazing endurance when together.

#Bo Peep Shepard #Alistair Shepard #She can't see without them #Good thing or he'd be dead

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runningthe-maze · 7 years

Text

You Know Him?

Peter Parker x reader

Summary: You knew Peter before Tony brought you along to recruit the one and only Spider-Man, much to Tony’s confusion. You finally get the chance to prove your skills to Tony, but it doesn’t go as planned.

Warnings: Awkward scenes bc I suck at writing battles/angst, angst, character death

A/N: I’m super sorry I haven’t posted anything lately, my laptop broke and I had hoped I would get it fixed before now but I have not :/ I’m posting from a family members laptop, so let’s all hope he doesn’t discover my blog lmao

"Hey, y/n. Why don't you come with me to recruit the kid? He's about your age." Tony requested. He was just about to exit the tower

"Okay." You stood up, following behind him closely.

Years ago, Tong had brought you in under his wing. You lived with him, exploring and improving your abilities. He had raised you for ten years, after your parents gave you once they found out about your 'gifts'. He was more of a father to you than your biological one ever was.

On the drive over, he explained to you that he was going to recruit Spider-Man, a young boy named Peter.

Peter had no idea what he was about to become a part of.

His Aunt had answered the door, shocked that Tony Stark was asking for her nephew. She invited you and Tony in, saying Peter was not home yet, but would be shortly.

Tony made up an excuse that Peter had applied to become an intern. You didn't pay much attention to their conversation, strangely interested in your surroundings. There was something vaguely familiar about the small home he lived in.

You excused yourself to the bathroom for a few minutes, unprepared for who you'd see when you came out.

Standing directly behind their couch, stood your friend Peter Parker. You two met three months ago when you left Tony's tower for a night, and kept up with each other through calls and messages daily.

Everything seemed to connect in your mind as you realized that he was Spider-Man. The apartment was so familiar because you had seen it before while on FaceTime, and that was his aunt May!

"Peter?!" You exclaimed, making eye contact with the boy. When he looked over it was his turn to he surprised. "Y/n?! What are you doing here?" He cracked a grin, walking over to greet you with an embrace.

"You know him?" Tony asked, receiving no response.

"I came with Tony, I didn't know you were-"

"Applying to become an intern." Tony cut you off.

"Um, yeah, an intern. Did you apply too?" Peter asked you.

"No, I live with him!"

His jaw dropped to the floor.

"Are you serious?! How come you never told me!"

"It never came up I guess." You shrugged.

"Wait. Are you related?!"

"N-"

"Sorry to cut this reunion short, but how do you two know each other?" Tony asked, clearly confused.

You laughed awkwardly, you'd hoped this would never come up. "I actually left the tower a couple months ago, and might have explored a little."

He narrowed his eyes at you, as you sheepishly tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

"Why didn't this ever come up, y/n?"

Before you could respond, he lifted his hand. "This isn't the time to discuss this. I apologize, May."

"No worries, I'm surprised she hasn't mentioned Peter. He talks about y/n all the time. I didn’t know this was who he spoke to! Seriously, he's always-

"I wouldn't say all the time." Peter nervously laughed, reaching his hand up to rub the back of his neck.

"Okay, back to business. May I have a word with Peter?" Tony asked. May nodded. "Of course."

—

With Peter at the tower more often, you two got to spend more time together. Your friendship grew quickly. You'd be lying if you said you didn't miss him when he left. He was the only person your age you got to hang out with. Things got boring when you were 15 years old and surrounded by a bunch of people more than twice your age.

He was a lot of fun to be around, and his other friends seemed awesome, too. He promised he'd introduce you to them someday. The boy was so surprised that you were living with Tony Stark and he hadn't known. You were just as surprised that he was Spider-Man!

Tony prepared both of you for the battle with Steve and everyone on his side. When Tony gathered everyone and set off for the airport, both you and Peter were ecstatic. You'd fought before, but Tony never let you tackle anything big. Your powers had been difficult to control, so you were required to practice daily. He taught you techniques on how to control them. You took this opportunity to prove yourself and your capabilities to Tony.

After speaking with Steve for a few moments, Tony ran out of patience. "Underoos!" He called. Soon enough, your favorite bug-man (or Arachnid, as Peter corrected) came swinging in. He stole Steve's shield, landing on top of a vehicle. He awkwardly spoke about his suit to Tony, then introduced himself to Captain America. You rolled your eyes with a smirk at how dorky he was.

When the battle finally began, everyone seemed to pair up on their own. You took on Ant man.

"Look, I don't want to hurt a kid." He told you. "You won't." You growled, producing a small light from your hand. You instantly threw it at him, creating a well sized ball of flames. He shrunk himself instantly, jumping onto your hand.

He flipped you over, attempting to drag your arm around your back.

You flicked him off, shooting neon purple flames his way and running towards another competitor. You found yourself shifting invisible to sneak up on Bucky and Sam, who were teaming up on Peter. They were sprinting down a hall when you reappeared in front of them.

They both ceased their movements, turning another way to escape. "Hi y/n!" Peter called. You smiled and waved before surrounding the two men in a ring of electricity.

"I'm sorry about all this guys," you apologized, "Can we still be friends?"

"Sure, kid. We don't blame this on you." Sam told you, looking at Bucky who nodded.

Bucky charged through the ring, swatting all the small spots on his body that lit on fire. Sam did the same.

Peter had webbed them to the floor but could not continue, because Sam had sent his little drone to Pete. He was dragged outside. You ran after him, shooting beams at the drone and breathing a sigh of relief as he safely swung himself to the ground.

"Thanks, y/n. This is pretty awesome!"

"Hell yeah, Pete."

The battle continued, practically destroying the airport. Metal scraps went flying in all directions, just narrowly missing people. You did your best to keep them off of you while searching for a leverage point.

Before you could process what happened, you saw the shattering of half a terminal above you. You cried out, unable to move out of the way before large blocks of cement and metal crashed down on your body. Your metal suit protected you from being crushed completely, but sure as hell didn't help the load of pain you found yourself in. Something sharp was digging into your leg, likely having severed a main artery.

"Jen," you whispered the name of the AI inside your suit, "Help"

Your suit seemed to have shut down, most likely broken from the impact. You were completely alone, you couldn't call anyone and you could barely move.

You began to push yourself up, desperately attempting not to get stuck. You had shifted the concrete enough to push yourself up by your forearms. The concrete surrounding you rumbled slightly, and a small chunk from the top fell to the ground. A small hole had formed, just barely enough for you to squeeze through.

You dragged yourself towards it, struggling to maneuver yourself through the compact shards. You got to the hole, sticking your right arm out first. One wrong slip up with your knee caused you to flinch and groan in pain, resulting in the entire structure to rumble once again, and create an avalanche effect. Your arm on the outside was crushed by a block bigger than your head, and everything inside was hailing closer to the floor. You had been sealed shut, and held down by immovable forces. A small puddle of liquid told you the injury moments before ddefinitely punctured your artery. More blood poured out than you would have liked, making you dizzy. The pain subsided quickly, it had been replaced with an unusual numb feeling.

Your world faded into darkness along with the sound of chaos hailing down from the sky.

Your fate was inevitable, you had accepted that. You just wished Peter or Tony would not be the ones to find your body.

—

Scott had enlarged himself, raining havoc on your teammates. They struggled to overpower him, unsure of how to.

"Anybody on our side hiding any fantastic abilities they could use right now? I'm open to suggestions." Tony called out to everyone, receiving no response.

"Y/n, what about you? You got something hiding in there?"

"Y/n?" He said.

"Where is y/n?"

Before he could say anything else, Captain America had challenged him.

Peter stopped to look around him, scanning the group for your face. You were nowhere to be found. A small flicker of neon light caught his attention, underneath a large pile of metal and concrete.

"Oh no." He whispered to himself, abandoning his current battle to search for you.

Peter found your hand sticking out from underneath, motionless. "Y/n? Can you hear me?" He called, pulling the pieces off of you as quickly as his body allowed him. "Y/n!" He uncovered your face, quickly removing your mask to check for a heartbeat. Your suit appeared to be damaged severely and shut down.

Your skin was cold and pale, with a slight blue tint, telling him you'd been gone for a while. You looked stripped of all life, like an empty glass.

Lifeless.

His breath hitched in his throat, as he pulled off his own mask to see you clearly. Your face was twisted in discomfort, a look of agony refused to leave. Peter held you close and silently begged whoever was listening to bring you back. The pit in the bottom of his stomach ached. He knew you weren't coming back, but didn't want to accept the fact.

He found himself pulling you into his lap, holding onto you tightly. The moment Peter noticed the pool of blood surrounding you, his heart shattered into a million pieces. The whole world disappeared around him as the two of you sat on the cold ground. Nothing else mattered in the world at that moment, all he cared about was what could have been running through your mind in your final moments of life. Did you feel alone? Scared? Were you in pain? Had you tried to call for help but were unsuccessful due to your suit deactivating? The thoughts sent chills down his spine. He cursed himself for not noticing your disappearance before, maybe then he could have prevented your death.

Peter hadn't noticed multiple sets of footsteps approaching from behind him.

No one spoke, only watching with horrified eyes. Tony removed his mask, running to you and Pete with trembling hands. When his gaze fell upon your face, he felt his entire heart plummet into his stomach. He saw the same thing Peter did only minutes before. Absolutely nothing.

He dropped to his knees beside you, reaching out cup your cold cheek. You were the only casualty from the battle. Tony swallowed hard and looked up to Peter, who refused to meet his gaze.

Tony cared for you like he would his own child. Hell, you were his child, biologically or not. He raised you, and tried his hardest to give you a good life without your powers holding you back. He'd experienced many deaths in his lifetime, none of them comparing to the pain he was in as he watched your emotionless face.

He mustered up as much energy as he could to give a small announcement to the group surrounding you.

"She's gone."

#peter parker #spider-man #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker angst #civil war #tony stark #tony stark x reader #marvel #peter x reader #spiderman #marvel imagine #you know her

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my-bad-writing · 5 years

Text

Chapter 1 - Start Line

A/N: Happy Birthday to the pretty asshole. I decided to post a chapter of Lost Blood to celebrate!

The school didn’t look like much.

Sure, its alumni and reputation were well known, but its security was lax and it seemed like all the money they put into its size and grandeur would’ve been put to better use on security, stability, and quality.

Brushing her hair from her eyes, the girl made her way inside where the Exam Orientation was being held.

Present Mic was way too loud and peppy.

As he explained the exam, the girl’s senses wandered, picking up a boy muttering to himself and another next to him who seemed pretty ticked.

A third guy pointed out what appeared to be a mistake on the printout they were all given then called out the muttering boy who clapped his hands over his mouth and let out a muffled whimper of an apology bringing about restrained laughter from the other examinees.

Present Mic explained that the robot was worth zero points and wasn’t worth the effort to fight.

After he went over everything, the examinees headed out to take the exam.

While all the examinees were oohing and awing over the sheer size of the place, the girl observed each person in the same Battle Center as her.

There were about fifty overall and aside from a handful, none seemed all that capable.

Several others began to size each other up as well, writing off smaller examinees with no physical manifestation of a Quirk or those who looked even the slightest bit nervous.

The girl darted her eyes around warily and shoved her hands into her pockets, hunching her shoulders to make herself look smaller. A weaker target.

Use anything and everything to your advantage. Rule two.

“Right, let’s start!”

All heads turned to a skyscraper-like structure back at the school’s main buildings. Present Mic stood at the top.

“Get moving!

“There are no countdowns in real battles.”

He began waving his arm like a windmill, “Run, run, run, listeners!” Then he threw up both his arms as he continued, “You’re wasting airtime here.”

Turning back to the Battle Center, the girl saw that everyone had already bolted inside.

She smirked to herself, pulling her hands from her pockets and straightening up.

“Child’s play.”

Then she vanished

“Six minutes and two seconds left!”

The girl looked around from the roof of the building she was on, listening to the racket of her peers fighting both the targets and each other for points.

Five robots appeared in thin air around the building she was on before crashing down below.

She frowned slightly, puzzled.

Present Mic hadn’t given them the number of robots in each Battle Center, the examinees were given limited time and had to cover a vast area to find all the faux villains, and she hadn’t run into the zero-pointer yet.

Did someone destroy it already?

Apprehension sent a shiver down her back.

She had a bad feeling about this.

Suddenly, the ground began to rumble and taut, thick metal cords and wires either snapped or released, whipping into the air as the ground and buildings were destroyed off to the girl’s right, sending rubble and clouds of dirt into the air.

A large, hulking shadow proceeded the rumbling and whirring of tire treads which belonged to a robot that dwarfed the buildings.

“How the hell did they hide that.”

The murmuring worries of the examinees turned to screams as the robot brought a huge fist to the ground, sending wind and dirt in a shockwave that the girl’s peers had to lean into to avoid being blown over by.

Then everyone ran for it.

The girl crouched on the roof, watching near the robot’s treads while ignoring those running away. They were well enough to flee.

“Less than two minutes remaining!”

Oddly enough, the girl saw her before she heard her.

The dust and dirt further ahead of the robot cleared revealing a pile of debris and a pair of gloves and clothes flailing around at a particularly large piece of concrete.

The girl vanished from the roof, catching the collars of two boys on the ground who both choked on the sudden tightening of their shirts before they halted.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

The black-haired, plain-looking boy’s expression held a mix of shock and anger while the blond with a black horizontal bolt in his hair looked mostly shocked.

“I need your help,” the girl began dragging them off down the street. “Come with me.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” the blond panicked. “You want us to go towards the giant robot?!”

“Are you crazy,” the other voiced.

“Look at the rubble in front of it.”

The boys looked down for the first time since that robot appeared instead of up or away.

They gasped.

“Is that an examinee,” the black-haired boy breathed, both now turning to pick up the pace.

“Her Quirk makes her invisible. I need you two to get her out from under there. I’ll take care of the robot.”

“Are you insane,” the blond shouted once more.

“It’ll kill you!”

The girl smirked, “We’ll see. Now get going!”

She vanished once more only to reappear between the debris pinning the examinee down and the robot.

“Just one minute left!”

Straightening up, the girl took a deep breath, holding her hands palm out towards the large faux villain.

Putting all of her focus into the task at hand, she barely registered the sounds of the two boys reaching the girl and beginning to move the chunk of concrete.

The girl pictured any and all intact smaller robots in the Battle Center appearing in an isolated area further away from her and her peers, then she imagined the giant one in front of her reappearing in the sky above the other robots, pouring her will into those two images.

She could feel pretty much all her energy leave her as the huge zero-point robot disappeared from in front of her only to fall from the sky about half a mile away.

The resounding crashes, explosions, and shaking ground proceeded a weak shockwave that rustled the girl’s hair.

Breathing slow and ragged, she turned to the three examinees behind her, the boys having managed to get the girl free.

“Are you alright?”

The ones she could see just gawked at her.

“What in the world was that,” the black-haired boy whispered while the blond nodded his agreement.

The girl wanted to smile at the looks on their faces, but she was too drained.

“My Quirk is teleportation. As long as I know what or whom I’m teleporting and where to, the only drawback is the size or amount of whatever I’m teleporting and the distance between points A and B.”

The black-haired boy grinned, “That’s amazing!”

The blond nodded violently.

The girl pushed the hair from her eyes, shrugging her shoulders uncomfortably, “It’s nothing special.”

Then, she focused on where she figured the face of the invisible girl was, “Are you alright?”

“Huh? Oh! Yeah, just a little banged up. Thanks for saving me!”

The girl’s lips twitched, “It’s no problem. That’s why we’re here anyway, right? To help others?”

The black-haired boy blinked before smiling wider, “You make a good point,” he scratched the back of his neck looking rather sheepish. “I’m Hanta Sero, by the way.”

“Oh, yeah,” the blond spoke, “I’m Denki Kaminari.”

“And I’m Toru Hagakure,” the invisible girl introduced herself.

“Nice to meet you all,” the girl put her hands in her pockets once more, “I’m Maaya Akatsuki.”

“And that’s it. Time’s up!”

An alarm blared through the Battle Center as the four looked around then at each other.

“It’s over already,” Sero looked upset.

“That’s what happens when something unexpected happens,” the girl shrugged, “it takes up more time than you thought. Come on,” she walked by the three of them, “let’s get out of here. I’m sure Recovery Girl is on standby for anyone who’s injured.”

“Huh?”

“Recovery Girl?”

Maaya let a chuckle slip, “She’s U.A.’s nurse. Her Quirk allows her to jumpstart another person’s healing; she’s the reason exams like this can even be held.”

Understanding dawned on the three behind her and another smile tugged at her lips.

“Come on you three. All we can do now is head home and hope we passed.”

Crushing realization brought Sero, Kaminari, and Hagakure back to reality as the examinees made their separate ways home, nerves eating at many.

A week had passed since the practical exam, and Maaya had slept through most of it.

Teleporting that robot had taken a lot out of her, and she was glad the written exam was beforehand.

She had just eaten dinner in her small apartment and, after cleaning up, lay on her couch, fiddling with her ball chain necklace.

Based on her own estimates, Maaya breezed through the written part of the exam with relative ease and gained at least seventy-five points in the mock battle.

Thinking over her theory once more only solidified her belief that the points gained from the robots were only part of the practical, otherwise they never would’ve had that giant zero-pointer show up near the end, they would’ve had it at the beginning.

Unless, the principal just liked hazing students as well as testing their character, which, now that Maaya thought about it, seemed probable; especially since she would have done the same.

Feeling an anxious tingle shoot down her back, Maaya stood to go check for mail once more in the past few days.

The only thing she received was a white envelope with ‘U.A. High School’ written on the bottom right-hand corner, the school’s official red seal, and a disk-like object inside it.

Returning inside and kicking off her shoes, Maaya plopped back onto the couch.

Leaning over the coffee table, she slipped her thumb under the seal to open her test results and pulled out what was indeed a disk-like object.

It began to glow and whirr as it powered up, and she set it on the table as a projection appeared of the world’s number one pro hero, All Might.

“Booyah! I am here as a projection now!”

While his signature smile was still in place, he looked sort of run down.

He must have had to record one for each individual examinee.

Maaya snorted.

“You most likely know that I’m in the city but the truth is, I didn’t come to this city just to fight villains. You’re looking at the newest UA faculty member!”

Maaya raised a brow. Not a few sentences in and she knew he talked with his body as well as his mouth.

“Moving on.” He cleared his throat, “You passed the written test with flying colors and managed to accumulate a shocking one hundred and thirteen combat points in the practical exam. Very clever to use the zero-point target to take out a group of them…”

Her other brow rose to join its twin. Over a hundred? Guess there were more leftover robots than anticipated.

“Also, there were other factors.

“You see, the practical exam was not graded on combat alone.

“How could a hero course not include factors for those who are committed to saving others, no matter the consequences to themselves? After all, that is what makes a hero.

“And that’s what my alma mater is all about. Training those who would risk their lives for the greater good.”

The screen changed to show a scoreboard.

“So, we have Rescue Points!

“A panel of judges watches, and they award points for heroic acts beyond just fighting villains.

“Maaya Akatsuki, sixty Rescue Points!

“And Hanta Sero and Denki Kaminari, forty Rescue Points!

“You three, as well as Toru Hagakure, all passed the exam.”

All Might faced the screen, holding out his hand.

“Welcome, Maaya Akatsuki.

“You have made it. You’re now part of the hero academia.”

There was a pause before the projection faded and the disk shut down.

The apartment was silent.

Slowly reaching into her pocket, Maaya pulled out her phone and typed in a number she had memorized.

Bringing it to her ear, it rang twice before being answered.

The other end was silent.

“I have successfully passed the exams, sir… I’m in.”

“Well done. Do not raise any suspicions from the faculty or your peers.”

“Yes, sir.”

The line went dead.

Maaya set her phone beside the disk before falling sideways across the couch.

Turning onto her back, unwanted and indecipherable emotions swirling through her, she faced the ceiling.

“Everything’s going to change. Isn’t it?”

#lost series #lost blood #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #oc story #bnha #mha #original character #female oc #ofc #original female character

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imagine-that-haikyuu · 7 years

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Could I get a scenario of Ukai deciding to finally proposing to his s/o but keeps getting interrupted by the Karasuno boys each time he tries to ask her and after realizing what they accidentally kept doing the boys decorate the gym, with the help of Kiyoko and Yachi, to the surprise of their coach and his s/o and hold up signs saying 'will you marry our coach?'

what’s more romantic than a proposal scenario on valentine’s day? and with my husband too! this is so self-indulgent and i swooned the entire time i wrote it. i made the reader a teacher at karasuno for the sake of ease regarding the last part and also because i referenced this scenario in it too.

i had no idea how to decorate the gym forgive me so it’s very understated but the boys didn’t have a big budget

and that’s it for valentine’s day updates! even though i didn’t get to finish as much as i would have liked for the occasion, i was able to carve out some good chunks for some other request so expect them in the next few days!

This should have been easy. Ukai’s at a loss at what to do now. He’s been keeping that box in his pocket all week long, anticipating the right moment to pop the question to you.

The whole point of a casual yet intimate proposal is that, unless he really screws up the lead-in, it would go without a hitch. There’s no need to depend on others and potentially embarrass you in the process. Not that either of you like those over-the-top proposals anyway.

And yet, it seemed as if fate had other ideas this past week, using the team he coaches as a proxy for its chaos.

The first attempt was during one of his night shifts at the store. You always drop by to keep him company once he comes back from coaching and you finish things up at work. Not too many customers come in at night, so it’s never difficult to have a conversation even with Ukai taking care of responsibilities around the place. Given that things are busier than usual for the both of you at the moment, it’s nice to have some time alone.

“You should take a break from that,” he says upon returning from the backroom. In front of you on the table are the papers you’ve been marking up since you got there. Either you were very enthusiastic about using a red pen or those kids totally bombed the test you gave them.

“Only if you take yours now too,” you respond. You cap the pen and pat the empty chair adjacent to you. “Keep me company.”

It’s pretty early in his shift still to be taking a break, but there wasn’t a whole lot else to do anyway other than to mind the store. His mother had been taking good care of it in his absence. Until closing time, Ukai essentially is on a break unless customers came in.

“Alright, alright,” he drones in contrast to the smile on his face. “You drive a hard bargain, you know?”

“Hm? I didn’t offer you anything, though.”

You blink as he takes the chair beside you.

“Your company.”

You blink again, mouth forming into an “o” for a brief moment before you let out a laugh.

“Well, aren’t you sweet?” you tease. “And it looks like you’ve finally learned a thing or two about hitting on a woman.”

God, he loves that cheeky grin you have on. That alone is enough for him to confirm that he really does want to spend every day with you. Not that he didn’t before. The deal was already sealed when he decided to buy the ring; this was just extra confirmation. Plus, you just gave him the perfect opportunity to segue into the proposal.

“I haven’t even used the best one, though.”

Elbows already on the table, you interlock your fingers and rest your chin on top of them. You shut your eyes as if contemplating something, but still have a smirk on. After a moment, you open your eyes slowly and tilt your head. “Oh? And what would that be?”

“Well, it’s not exactly a pick-up line in the way you’re used to.”

Ukai’s hand reaches around towards his back pocket. He can feel the velvet black box on the tip of fingers. Outside, there’s a peal of laughter in the distance followed by an all-too-familiar voice chanting, “Meat buns! Meat buns!”

The commotion grabs your attention and you glance outside the shop windows. “Looks like your boys are here for the usual.”

The glass door slides open and sure enough, the Karasuno Boys’ Volleyball Club is making their way inside. With a “tsk”, Ukai repositions his arm from behind his back and reluctantly tends to the boys’s needs. Although, you know behind that grumpy exterior, he likes having them around. They really are a good group of kids, albeit a few of them could study a little more for your exams or not fall asleep during your lectures.

They’re already used to seeing you in the shop, so your presence doesn’t come as much a surprise to them. You’re still one of their teachers, so the team is sure to be respectful in greeting you. Realizing that it’s probably not a good idea to keep the tests you’re grading out while they’re in the shop, you begin to collect them into a pile.

However, a few of the team members manage to get a glimpse at some of the names on the exams. When they recognize their names next to the low marks, you’re dragged into having a tutoring session with them right there. Well, at least they’re eager to improve. As a teacher, that’s all you want, even if the impromptu lesson carries on later than you anticipated staying. When the boys head home, you collect your belongings and rise from your seat.

“I’m going to head back too or I’ll miss my train,” you sigh.

Ukai makes no attempt to hide his scowl or the low, frustrated groan as he approaches you. Time together was always limited and you’re also disappointed that said time had been cut short tonight. You smile despite it, offering him a kiss instead.

He can’t even bring himself to try again now that you’re alone together. The mood is all off.

The series of thwarted proposal attempts that followed in the next few days were almost comical (if he hadn’t been the one to become the victim). They could be perfectly cut and edited together like a montage in a sitcom or a movie.

For example, you swung by the gym for a moment during practice just to say hello before a staff meeting. Ukai quickly announced that he was stepping outside for a bit and before he could even say anything to you, a stray ball rebounded from a block hit him in the back of his head. Once again, the atmosphere couldn’t be salvaged between him snapping at the boys and you having to rush to your meeting in order to not be late.

They were situations along those lines, somehow involving the volleyball team every time. At this point, he’s positive the only way he could do this without being interrupted is late at night at either of your places during pillow talk. But that would be far from classy and also means that you’d have to concoct a cleaner version of story that you could tell others when they asked—especially your families—because you’d be getting that question a lot.

As he makes his way to the gym, he mulls over the places he could take you so that it’ll just be the two of you. Alone. Without even the slightest possibility of being disrupted. When he reaches the gym doors, Ukai shakes the thoughts from his head: it’ll have to wait until after practice is done. Not to mention the doors are shut and that takes him by surprise. Usually, they’re open and the boys are already warming up. He pulls on the handle only to find the door won’t budge. Even the times the door was shut, it was at least unlocked.

“What the—“

“Keishin!”

His head snaps in the direction of your voice only to find you running towards him, expression turning from fear to confusion as you slow to a halt in front of him.

“You’re okay?” you ask breathlessly.

“Uh…was I not supposed to be?”

You continue to stare at him dumbfoundedly as you catch your breath.

“Hinata just…” You turn around to see if the boy somehow ended up behind you, but he would have caught up by now. Your shoulders slump and you shake your head when you come to realization that you’ve been duped. “Takeda and I were on our way to a meeting when Hinata came up to us in panic and yelling about how something had happened to you. I darted off here without a second thought while Takeda offered to call for help.”

Now, it’s his turn to stare at you with utter confusion. He rubs the back of his neck, trying to come up with something that could give logic to anything that just happened. Nothing comes to him.

“That’s…weird. Really weird. I just got here.” It feels stupid for him to even say it, but your relieved smile is enough to recover whatever pride would have been lost for it. “But what’s even weirder is that the door is locked and I don’t hear the boys doing anything.”

“I just passed the other entrance, but I didn’t bother to see if it was even open or if they were inside. Maybe try there?”

Neither of you have a second to make your way there when you hear a voice—distinctly Tanaka’s—call out, “Now!” followed by a set of scrambling footsteps and a stage whispered, “Hurry! Hurry!”

The doors in front of you open, Shimizu and Yachi ushering you inside. You stare up in awe as you enter the gym. The banisters are decorated with white flowers, the green probably plastic vine they come on wrapped around the metal bars. Your steps are slow while you turn yourself around, finding that every bar above you is sporting the same decorations. The boys have all lined up, some of them casually leaning on or slumping over the rails to let their arms hang. It’s hard to gauge what they’re thinking: some look pleased, while others look like they’re trying to hold back a wide grin, and others look plain nervous.

“What the heck is this?” Ukai asks from the doorway, but his question goes unanswered as Daichi counts a “one, two” while he, Suga, and Asahi unravel a banner. The white fabric billows as it falls in a rather dramatic fashion.

In clear, black lettering are the words: “Will you marry our coach?” Underneath them are silhouettes of two crows, beak to beak with a red heart between them. Before you have a chance to process anything, the team shouts the same words featured on the banner.

The question hits you and you lose your breath for a moment. You turn to Ukai, with a surprised laugh, “Keishin, did you really?”

But he appears just as astonished as you are. Maybe even more so.

“N-no, I didn’t set this up,” he finally admits. He realizes as soon as he says it that it comes off as the opposite of his intentions. He quickly follows up with a sigh, “But I have been trying to pop the question for the past week.”

“Seriously?!” you cry. “Did I make it difficult or something?”

“No, it was those guys.” He motions his head up to the banisters. “Every time I tried to bring it up somehow they managed to butt-in.”

“Well, luckily I saw you put the box back in your pocket while sensei was distracted,” Suga boasts. “But the flower idea was Shimizu’s.”

You turn back towards the girl in question and she looks to Yachi.

“Hitoka designed the banner,” Shimizu says. The first-year beams with the recognition.

“And everyone else helped me paint it,” Yachi adds.

Hinata chimes in, “So we came up with the plan to get ___-sensei here by having me panic about an emergency involving you. When we reached the gym doors from the hallway, sensei was already making her way to the other side to meet you. Those doors were locked too just in case, so Yamaguchi had to stand-by to let me in.”

“You boys are sneaky!” you tease. You smile and shake your head, stopping only when you remember something. “But wait! Takeda! He was just about to call an ambulance when we darted off! What if one–”

“Actually, I was calling the team to let them know that you were on your way and to take their places quickly.” Both you and Ukai turn back towards the doorway to find your colleague standing there. Takeda pushes his glasses up his nose with a pleasant grin. “Now, Ukai-kun, I believe you still have something left you need to do.”

“Yeah, yeah. You don’t have to tell me,” Ukai scoffs. But his smirk and the slight tremble in his hands tell you that even the blasé façade he was trying to keep wouldn’t hold in his nerves.

Now he can finally reach into his damn pocket without worrying whether or not that black box would go right back in. Ukai steps towards you and holds the box out. It only takes a moment for you to bring your hand to your mouth and for the tears to start spilling despite your bright smile.

“If I go down on one knee you’ll never let me live it down, so I’ll stand for this,” he says.

One time, while you watched a movie together a while ago, you told him that you’d thought it would be nicer if the two parties stood on equal ground. It was only in passing and you were shocked to find that he remembered that.

You let out a small giggle along with a sniffle, “You know me so well, Keishin.”

“Marry me, ___.”

He pops open the box, but you can’t even see the ring that well through your tears. Not to mention you don’t want to break eye contact with him. You’re sure it’s simple, yet sophisticated, and that he probably didn’t have to look at too many rings to know that it was the one.

“Yes.”

You nod with an uncontrollably wide smile as Ukai slips the ring onto your finger. The team applauds and cheers—some of them are even in tears—, while the two of you break your usual rule about keeping PDA to a minimum; this kind of situation warrants a proper kiss.

Maybe it was for the best that his first attempts at this were impeded thanks to those kids because this was a much better story to tell.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu!! scenarios #ukai keishin #request #valentine's day 2k17 #haha guess who cried after her final proofread of this scenario #it was me who else #admin rachel lauren #anonymous

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