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idga-buck · 3 years

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Some and Others, 3/?

Earth’s mightiest heroes save the city again, but that’s never the end of the story.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 4,301

Content: canon typical violence, death, destruction, swearing

Bucky was going to call. He just didn’t. He was surprised you hadn’t and overwhelmingly disappointed that it meant if he was going to apologize, it was a conversation he’d have to initiate himself. It could wait though. Just a little longer while he figured out what he wanted to say.

A week later, the Post ran a story about the same gossip site that had leaked your photo of him being shut down after many of their stories and photos were found to be fake. A rarity for the world of journalism these days, Sam noted casually as they stopped at a newspaper cart. Bucky bought a couple candy bars and watched the man with the thick black mustache and the gold chain slip copies of the article in front of a few of his worst sellers. Could he actually be that lucky? It was an easy out after a week of dodging questions and trying to remind the world to stay out of his business.

“So that photo of you? The secret girlfriend?” Sam waited for Bucky to respond, but when the centenarian opted to buy a Pay Day instead, he watched closer. Bucky hated that. Sam said he had a staring problem, but Sam was the one with x-Ray vision. He could read people, read a room, read Steve’s body language from across a battlefield and adjust his position without being told. As annoyed as Bucky acted when paired up with Sam Wilson, he was one of the few people in this century that Bucky Barnes respected. Truly. Except for that moment on a street corner when brown eyes were scanning his complete lack of guts and deciding what was worth commenting on.

“Yeah,” Bucky ripped open the wrapper a little too aggressively and responded with peanuts between his teeth. “It wasn’t real.”

Sam nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets while Bucky stuffed his face. “I don’t know how you land the fake girlfriend story, when I’m right here,” they started walking away from the stand while Sam jabbered on. “And lookin’ as fine as I do? Come on, man,” he danced ahead of Bucky a few steps, forcing him to look up. “You know this would make a better story.”

Before Bucky could say anything, a loud crash echoed between the buildings. Nothing was visible from their block, but both men, trained for combat, were instantly on alert.

“That for us?” Sam asked, eyeing the busy intersection.

“No,” said Bucky, a clipped tone in his voice as he shook his head and started walking again.

Another crash, this time accompanied by the faint human noises that usually follow tragedy.

“You sure about that?” Sam’s eyebrow shot up.

Sirens from every kind emergency response vehicle blared in the distance, growing louder then quieter again as they wove their way through the streets, changing directions to avoid traffic.

Bucky pointed at a passing fire truck, waiting until it had turned down another street before speaking. “See? They got it.”

Then Sam’s phone rang and Bucky swore, planting his hands on his hips while whoever was on the other line confirmed that the emergency growing in the distance was in fact for them. Sam placed the call on speaker and gave their current location. Stark’s voice was muffled and metallic, the way it usually was while calling from inside his fancy helmet, but he told them to stay put as he did a fly by with Sam’s equipment.

“Tell the Tin Man he’s got a special delivery,” Tony informed them from somewhere overhead.

“They're your wings,” Bucky grumbled, looking up from the ground as the familiar glare of Iron Man’s thrusters came into view. “And your robot.”

“First of all,” Sam informed him. “Red Wing isn’t a robot. He’s a drone.”

“It,” Bucky corrected, “is a robot.”

“I’m gonna tell him you said that,” said Sam before pointing up to where Iron Man had doubled back to get a better angle. “And… unlike some of us present, my body is exactly as God created it, flesh and bone.”

“Pop up, deep center,” Tony’s voice rang out obnoxiously through Sam’s phone once more.

Bucky watched a black bundle falling from the sky, trying to position himself under it and pushing more than one pedestrian out of his way to do so. “Actually, I was a catcher back in ‘32.”

“THEN CATCH!” Sam hollered just before the EXO Falcon gear landed square in Bucky’s chest, forcing him off his feet and onto his ass, skidding to a stop on a sidewalk while the people around them scattered, gasping and grabbing at their phones to take pictures of the two Avengers. Bucky laid flat on his back, both arms still wrapped around the bundle, and took a deep breath when Sam stood over his head, arms shooting out to his sides as he yelled “SAFE!”

Bucky groaned and tossed the black bag up into Sam’s arms, hard enough to make him stumble but not enough to knock him down. “Should have said ‘out.’” Bucky grumbled and Sam chuckled as he dug through the bag for his equipment. “Safe makes it sound like I-”

“You really wanna argue about baseball right now,” Sam laughed, securing his wings over his torso and releasing them both with a flash as if stretching before a fight. “Or are we gonna go save the world?” Bucky didn’t answer, just took off running in the direction of the screams. “That’s what I’m talking about,” said Sam to himself, shooting up into the air.

…

Robots. Drones. Whatever they, Bucky Barnes has decided that he hates them.

Fighting Nazis was easy. Not physically. Not when your gun isn’t really yours and the food sucks and you’re almost as worried about losing your toes as you are losing your team. But it made sense. These men in their wool coats wanted innocent deaths. Something in Bucky that had been there all along was born anew in the war. He was a protector. Of his sisters, of Steve, of his country. It made sense.

Nothing about Hydra made sense and the therapist he stopped seeing told him it was okay to think about those years differently than the rest. So he did.

When T’challa presented him with a black vibranium canon for his left side, the enemy was otherworldly. Literally. They didn’t bleed like men. They made horrible screeching noises when they died, but even that was different from me. They rode disgusting creatures with teeth that could have scratched his arm if he’d let them get close enough. They were invaders, their leader sought destruction on an even greater scale than the War. Bucky was a protector again, protector of Earth, of life in the universe. An unimaginable title for the boy he’d been, sitting in front of the radio with his family and marveling at the president's voice. It’s not like he was eager to do it again, but space invaders whose goal was universal genocide would be met with the business end of Bucky’s favorite rifle.

Fighting robots, however, was fucked up.

Bucky was still processing his new life, still getting used to the idea that people carried plastic cards in their wallets and could pull money out of the walls with just a few buttons. There were movie theaters with screens two stories high. Cars plugged into the sides of hotels. The cell phone in his pocket was overwhelming as is. In a few minutes, he could buy all the clothes he’d ever need, pay for dinner, and talk to people across the country. It was baffling.

All this technology, all this progress, and of course there were people who weaponized it. Bucky hated that. He remembered science fairs, remembered Howard Stark’s big promises. There was so much hope in him as a young man. He’d live to drive a flying car, his children would learn about the world through a holograms in their livingroom, his grandchildren would live on the moon. The possibilities were endless. So much so that people with horrible intentions for the world also believed that the possibilities were endless, forcing Bucky into his current position.

His thighs were wrapped around the base of a machine, arms wound near the top. He threw his shoulders back with all of his might, squeezing his legs in the process, and didn’t stop until the metal gave way. Bucky fell onto the pavement with his own momentum, the enemy in two pieces with wires exposed and frizzling as they died. He dropped the robot and rolled to his side, observing the scene around him. Steve used a cleaner approach and sent his shield flying through the air. Three more bots’ were sliced in two, the last of which was pinned by the shield into the side of a brick building. Sam circled above, with Redwing swooping below to draw laser fire away from bystanders while Wanda tried her best to herd them away, spinning to throw angry red energy at anything that came their direction.

“Sergeant Barnes!” The familiar and overly excited voice of the kid in blue and red spider gear startled Bucky. The kid swung in unexpectedly, decked out and ready to help. Bucky didn’t care that he was probably skipping school to do so and swung his vibranium arm behind him, the metal of another droid crunching under his elbow. “How can I help?”

Bucky squinted, a little dumbfounded at the question. There was a six block radius being overrun with droids, drones, robots- whatever- and people were terrified. “Pick something,” he grunted, taking the robot's head… top part, between his hands and twisting until it gave way and the bottom half dropped powerless to the ground.

Just then the sound of metal screeching pulled both their eyes to a city bus being thrown around like it was weightless, crunching the vehicles nearby, and sending more people into a frenzy as buildings were still evacuating onto the street. “That! Pick that!” Bucky commanded and the kid flew away, attached to a white string like a kite. Two more robots were approaching from the sidewalk, red eyes glowing and ready to fire. Bucky looked around the street for something, anything that he could use before deciding on a minivan. The windows looked clear, driver and passengers already scampering away at the first sign of trouble, so Bucky planted his boot into the back door and kicked. The door caved in and the vehicle flipped onto its side before skidding to a halt on the sidewalk and crushing the robots beneath it.

“Uh! MISTER BARNES, SIR, SARGE-!”

Bucky turned back to look at Peter, propped up on a light pole and leaning so far back his body was almost parallel to the ground. The only thing keeping him upright was the two thick white webs attached to the bus, one at the front and one at the back. It was tipping over dangerously low, trapping a small group of people between the bus and two buildings, one that had smoke billowing out the windows. This was a mess.

Bucky ran through the street, jumping onto the hoods of abandoned cars to avoid weaving between them before leaping off an SUV and rolling back into a run on the sidewalk. A laser struc Peter, knocking him clean off his perch, and the webs supporting the bus went dangerously slack as it started tipping toward the trapped people again. Bucky jumped, wedging himself between the building and the collapsing bus with great effort. His shoulders dug into the brick behind him and his thighs burned as he shoved the bus away from the wall, gritting his teeth as he felt it slowly start to tip away from the ground. The kid was now on the ground somewhere out of sight and Bucky had to hold back from sending the vehicle flying, lest he squash Stark’s favorite spider in the process. The tension in his legs grew as he held it steady, adjusting his feet and shoulders until he felt it wasn’t going anywhere.

“Hey!” He called out to the people below him. “Get out of here, go!”

There were rushed thank yous and lots of tears as the crowd dispersed from their trapped position. But one voice stood out among them and it made Bucky’s heart speed up.

“Bucky?! Oh my god, BUCKY!”

Bucky’s eyes were closed under the strain, but he’d know your voice anywhere. He opened them just in time to see Peter recover and zip off in a new direction. Bucky released his breath and shoved his feet out hard, tipping the bus back. He dropped from the wall and grabbed you as the bus wobbled precariously in both directions before finally falling into traffic and directly onto the roof of an empty red sports car.

Bucky hadn’t realized how tight he was holding you until you said his name again and the word was broken. His arms relaxed a bit, but you made no move to run away… or let go of his jacket. The two of you just stared at each other, breathing heavily, before screaming drew your eyes away. The small crowd of people you’d been stuck with were running away from where you stood, but the two in the back collapsed, their bodies charred and heavy as they hit the ground. You screamed then and Bucky pulled your back into his chest, hugging your stomach as you keeled over. He’d seen so much death in his hundred odd years, it was hard to witness it with these fresh eyes. You weren’t prepared to watch two innocent people’s skin melting under lasers. Hell, neither was Bucky and while you cried in his arms, the smell of burning flesh stung his eyes. He’d never get over that smell, no matter how many world wars he participated in. His face was buried in the back of your head, shushing you as he lifted you up. He took careful backwards steps until you were both hidden in the same alley you’d just been trapped in. Bucky looked up at the burning building and decided he had a minute before you were both in danger here.

“Hey,” he said softly when you went limp against his chest. “Hey now,” he repeated, spinning and almost dropping you when he realized you hadn’t just relaxed… you were unconscious. “Shit,” Bucky dropped to his knees and let your body lean up against his chest, slapping at your cheeks and calling your name to try and wake you up. Half of your face was red with blood from a wound he couldn’t see somewhere in your hair. Break up or no break up, he couldn’t leave you like this. Any other person, he’d run them to safety and double back to continue clearing the streets. But this wasn’t any person. It was the girl he dumped in the middle of a restaurant and had continuously put off calling to explain himself. He hadn’t gotten the chance to clear the air and leaving you to wake up in a few hours in the middle of a destroyed midtown was just too cruel. He did like you and now it felt like he owed you.

Bucky picked you up like a doll and slung you around to his back, crossing your arms over his chest as your legs dangled behind his knees. That wasn’t going to work, he decided after only a few steps. “Can you hold on a little-“ Bucky drifted off as he turned his face to see your face hidden behind him, your forehead limply resting against his shoulder. “Of course not,” he berated himself and stopped to adjust again. This time he stooped, grabbing one of your arms and one of your legs with his hands. You were slung over his shoulders like a backpack, the same way he carried goats in Wakanda, only much easier since you weren’t kicking or screaming and he had two hands with which to wrangle you.

His steady march out of the fray was interrupted once by Wanda. After directing pockets of people to safety, she’d sought out the source of the invasion. Bucky looked around for a safe place to stow your body and found an SUV that was abandoned but still running with the doors unlocked to lay you out across the backseat, carefully tucking your feet in before slamming the door behind him. He liked Wanda, despite not knowing what exactly she was capable of, but liked her a lot less when he found himself immersed in a glowing red forcefield and being lifted into the sky. When he was forced through the large glass window of another building only to look up and find her floating gently through the hole his body had created, she shrugged.

“This way was faster,” she said, Sokovian accent much softer than their first meeting.

“Right,” Bucky groaned, making a mental note of how many Avengers could zip through the air with ease and the odds of being the one she found on the ground.

They raced up the final set of stairs and Bucky ripped the maintenance door to the roof off its hinges. It was unlucky that Bucky and Wanda had been the ones to find the bastard responsible. If it had been Steve, he’d been bound and handed over to the authorities. Tony might have thrown him in armored vehicle and shook him around a bit before demanding answers. Bruce… depending on the day wouldn’t have been much better. Nat would have gotten answers easier than either of them and Sam was easily the most noble of the bunch, so Bucky had no idea what he’d do. The right thing, whatever that was. But Wanda wasn’t particularly fond of people who harmed innocent people. The motivation didn’t much matter to her when the sounds of children crying could be heard in the streets. Bucky didn’t have much grace for people who were smart enough to help, but broken enough to hurt. Like the bastards in Hydra, who healed him, kept him alive, gave him extraordinary strength then weaponized him. Anyone who had this level of technological advancement and chose to bring destruction with it was a waste of air. Wanda hoisted the man up into one of her angry red orbs while Bucky broke the control panel into as many pieces as he could, destroying anyone else’s opportunity to learn from this guy. Neither of them had anticipated this guy to be so well armed. It looked like a pistol, but whatever it fired managed to get through Wanda’s energy field and pierce her shoulder, breaking her focus just enough for him to drop back onto the roof. He took off running to the edge and leapt, but Wanda recovered faster, using her powers to yank him back. Bucky caught him in the air and squeezed, locking the man in a painful hold until he noticed glowing red numbers counting down behind the man’s neck. Shit.

“Bucky!” Wanda pointed at the man’s hands, wrapped threateningly around a plunger that could only mean one thing.

Without a better option, Bucky turned back to edge. He released the man and as he tried to stumble forward, Bucky’s boot landed square against his sacrum, launching the man through the air and into a neighboring building in a ball of fire. Both Avengers watched the corner offices go up in flames, disgust and horror in both their eyes.

“The whole block was evacuated,” Wanda said softly and Bucky nodded. There was a distinct lack of screaming coming from the direction of the building and sirens soon flooded the streets below as first responders made their way into critical areas. From the ledge, both of them watched as the remaining bots dropped to the ground before their team, disengaging en masse. Steve looked up from atop a bodega and saluted the sky in their general direction, lifting the shield as a second acknowledgment before jumping down to the street to start… whatever Captain America does once the threat has been neutralized. The PR and clean up stuff wasn’t Bucky’s scene and he turned away, making it all the way across the roof, still observing the scene below, before remembering that you were somewhere, either still unconscious or just waking up, deeply confused in the back of a stranger’s car.

“You okay?” Bucky asked, wanting to make sure before asking Wanda for any favors.

She pulled her hand away from her shoulder, black nail polish and red blood looking menacing and downright witchy against her pale fingers. “I’ll be alright,” she assured him, eyes already glowing red as she prepared to offer more aid.

Bucky stopped her and nodded over the side of the building. “Gimme a lift?”

She snorted and waved her fingers without looking at him and soon enough, Bucky found himself falling on his ass once again. He needed to work on his dismount if this was going to become a regular pairing. Thankfully or maybe not, you were trying to wake up as Bucky slipped into the driver’s seat and commandeered the vehicle. He turned back to watch you whine in pain as you tried to sit up, before slipping back into sleep when he told you to stay down. You were in and out for most of the drive, which helped Bucky weave up and over curbs to avoid stagnant areas where everyone had abandoned their cars out of fear.

…

You woke up with a headache, exasperated by the bright lights of the emergency room. Bucky could see the moment you came to by the hard squinting that melted into a grimace. You’d had a couple false starts, but when your eyes opened and locked on his, Bucky knew it was the real deal this time. He stood to pull back the curtain and immediately a nurse was shimmying her way into your space, brushing her chest against Bucky’s in the process. He nodded and gave her a tight smile. It had been like that since he walked into the ER with you. Avengers carrying blacked out civilians get a lot of attention, but they also get speedy service. Which is what Bucky told himself when he stuck around once you’d been admitted. You’d get better care if he stayed with you, so he did. Feet propped up on the end of your bed and dropping whenever someone came to run another test. He wasn’t family and didn’t claim to be, so they told him nothing, but nurses managed to smile flirtatiously in between doing their job. In another life, Bucky would have… done something. Anything. He smiled. He was a hundred, not dead, but there was something off putting about receiving these looks when you were asleep right there between hanging curtains in an overrun hospital as ambulances and families started to arrive from the mess he’d just left.

You answered their questions slowly, but correctly. Your name, where you were, what year it is, who the president is. The doctor would be in soon and Bucky took the minute of alone time to scoot the chair they’d brought in for him. You were watching him expectantly as the legs scraped across the floor, just a few inches before he could reach a hand out to yours. You looked down curiously at your hand in Bucky’s.

“They spelled my name wrong,” you murmured and Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut as you lifted your joined hands to observe the little plastic bracelet closer. He shook his head, wanting to apologize, but also hoping you wouldn’t connect the dots that he’d given them your information incorrectly. “Bucky?” He looked up to find your eyes wider than usual, a little more vulnerable than he was used to seeing you and wanted to do something to make you feel better. But like the entirety of your relationship, he had no idea how to do that.

“You’re okay,” he nodded, telling himself as much as he was telling you.

“Thank you,” you squeezed his fingers as your voice shook.

Just then a man in a white coat, pushed back the curtain and Bucky stood reflexively, dropping your hand in the process. He turned back and saw your face fall before crossing your arms over your chest and looking away from him.

“Sergeant Barnes,” the doctor addressed him first.

“Bucky,” he corrected without thinking and turned his body, opening up the room a bit and directing attention back to what mattered. The patient. You.

“Thank you for bringing her in,” the doctor continued, then looked back and forth between the two of you. “We’ve got it from here, if you need to-”

“He can stay,” you piped up. The doctor asked if you were sure, but you were. The doctor nodded, turning fully toward the bed and while that was Bucky’s goal, he now felt completely out of place in the tiny space.

“First things first,” the doctor started. “You and the baby are just fine, so I don’t want you worrying about that at all. Do you have a OB or a-”

Bucky stopped listening at that moment and focused on the roaring ocean in his ears. He looked to the bed where you were listening intently to what the doctor was saying, nodding and shaking your head mechanically. While he stared, you stole a glance in his direction. Your face was blank and he didn’t spend much time trying to read it.

“This sounds personal,” he said, voice flat and vibranium hand already reaching for the curtain at the end of your bed. “Take care.” Without sparing another look, Bucky walked through the busy emergency room with his left hand tucked into his front pocket, making him invisible to anyone who didn’t know he was there.

A/N: Here we go! It’s happening. I’m not sold on the way this ended but it was getting long as is and don’t worry, Bucky will have his chance to make it up to you.

Tags: @fangirl-swagg @learisa

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky Barnes x reader fic #bucky x female reader #sebastian stan characters #idga fic #some and others

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lavieendonna · 6 years

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It’s Whatever || l.h. one shot

Requested: YES! thank you anon x Pairing: Luke + bestfriend!Y/N Word count: 2.8K holy shit this is the longest thing I’ve written in forever Summary: luke doesn’t stalk twitter as often as he should

The rain pelted down on you as you ran down the street, jacket hauled up over your hair since you weren’t wearing a hat and it didn’t have a hood. You stopped at a red pedestrian light but looked both ways quickly before making a run for it anyway. The Starbucks you were meant to be at forty minutes ago was right up the street and you didn’t have time to stand idly in the rain for a total of zero cars to roll on past.

You were panting heavily when you finally crashed through the door of the café, but it only took a few moments and a quick glance around the place to realise that your friends had well and truly left without you. You checked your phone to see if anybody had messaged you, but you already knew before the screen lit up that they hadn’t.

You groaned (louder than you meant to) unsure if you were pissed or upset about it. All you knew for sure was that you were sopping wet, your freshly blown-out hair ruined and your supposedly “waterproof” mascara running down your face.

“I hate my life...” You huffed bitterly, letting yourself sink into an empty loveseat near the front window. You let yourself melt into the warmth, eyes closed and breathing still uneven.

“Hey… are you okay?” Someone near you asked carefully, and you frowned at the question with your eyes still closed.

“Fan-fucking-tastic. What do you think?” You snapped automatically.

“Uh… no?”

When you opened your eyes and sat your head up again a tall blond with a sheepish, pursed lip smile and bright blue eyes were staring at you pretty intensely. Your cheeks blushed as he shifted uncomfortably under your gaze.

“Sorry...” You mumbled, sitting up awkwardly so you weren’t draped over the seat ungracefully anymore. “I… I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“It’s fine.” He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I saw you run in, I just wanted to make sure you were… okay.” He offered another one of those awkward smiles and you rubbed the back of your neck, embarrassed.

“Ah.” You looked away as you flushed even pinker. “Yeah, that was… it’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

You glanced back at the taller boy from corner of your eye, completely expecting him to wonder off in deep regret for even thinking of talking to a psycho like you. But he was still standing behind the seat across from you, something like sincerity deep-set in his eyes.

“Do you… wanna talk about it?” He offered and a flicker of something fluttered in your chest. You squished it down quickly, though, biting your tongue and fighting the urge to just cry.

“It’s… no, no.” You shook your head. “I’m okay, I don’t wanna bother… you…?” The sentence came out like a drawled-out question as the blond just turned and walked off half-way through. Your bottom lip poked out in a rather childish pout as you watched his back seemingly float away. You gave another huff, sinking back into the cushions of the loveseat.

“Whatever.” You sighed. “Just my luck.”

You were about to gather your things to leave when He came back, side-stepping around the other seat before sitting down in front of you. He sat a silver table number onto the coffee table between the seats along with a plate with a piece of New York styled cheesecake and two cake forks.

“I got time.” He said with a smile, offering you one of the forks.

“Luke. I really don’t think this is a good idea.” You said into the receiver. You were dressed to the nines in a pair of new ripped skinny jeans and a fire truck red strapless top that hugged your curves gently (but still left enough to the imagination). You switched the phone from one ear to the other as you heard Luke groan on the other end of the line.

“Y/N, can you just trust me? Please?” He begged you through a chuckle. You almost heard his eyes roll, right as you rolled your own.

“Why would I do that?�� You shot at him as you saw the Uber pull up in front of your house.

“Uh, because I’m Luke fucking Hemmings, remember?” He said and you scoffed. “Hey, don’t scoff at me. That’s what you said at Starbucks.”

“Yeah – like two weeks ago!” You fired back. “Let it go already!”

“I will not, and you willhear about it for as long as you live.” He said matter-of-factly, not even bothering to let you retort this time. “Just, do this for me, okay?”

“Luke…” You sighed, slipping on your flats and grabbing your clutch and keys before stumbling out the door. “Luke, I really don’t want to meet your friends.”

“They’re not just my friends, Y/N.” He said.

“Yeah, yeah. They’re your bandmates– whatever.” You rolled your eyes again. “But what if they don’t like me?” You found yourself biting your lip as you pulled the seatbelt over your chest and smiling to the Uber driver who just nodded politely and started on his way.

“They will.” Luke urged you. “It’s gonna be fine.”

“If you say so.” You tell him, unconvinced.

“Y/N! Smile!” Calum wrapped his arms around your neck from behind you as Michael held the camera up in front of you both, giggling away like a child. You narrowed your eyes just knowing he was on snapchat.

“Jesus, Mike, what filter are you using?” You pulled a sidelong look and he laughed again as Calum let you go, sprint around the sofa so he could sidle up to the bottle-blond and look at the phone. Soon enough Calum was giggling too with his tongue peeking out between his teeth.

“Guu-uuyss!” You whined, expertly splitting the word into two syllables. “Don’t make me ugly!”

“I believe the word you’re looking for is ugli-er.” Michael cackled, quickly ducking out of the way as you hurled the cushion you were using as a backrest at him.

“LUKE!” He yelled “Luke, she’s trying to kill me again!” Michael pulled Calum in front of him to use as a human shield as you threw another pillow at him.

“Hey!” The brunet protested weakly through a laugh, so you threw one more cushion and hit him straight in the gut. He groaned loudly – louder than necessary – and you just laughed.

“Fuck you both.” You rolled your eyes before letting yourself fall back across the sofa, watching the rest of the boys run around with their drinks and their Snapchat while you relaxed.

“I believe a congratulation is in order!” Ashton practically bellowed, the words slurring just a little as he raised his red plastic cup in the air. Everybody followed suit with their various cups and cans of liquor, you and Luke looking at each other with arched brows before you looked back to the other tipsy Australian.

“Uh, why?” You laughed as Ashton trained his sights on you, and you flushed red as the other boys all turned to look at you too. It’d been weeks since you’d met them all and you thought maybe you’d get used to that after a while. But no, they were all still a little more than intimidating sometimes.

“Because!” Ashton proclaimed. “You have been in our lives for a couple of months now and as of last night – that we know of – you’ve been GIFed!”

“GIFed!” The other three shouted with their drinks in the air. Your eyes bulged, and your lips weren’t sure if they wanted to make an O or smile.

“I…? Uh, what?!” You stammered and everyone laughed while Calum handed you his phone. You took it quickly, eager to see what the fuck they were on about, and as soon as you turned the iPhone the right side up you saw he’d pulled up a Tumblr page.

Ashton was right. It was a GIF, mostly of Luke at first, but right near the end of the loop was you making a face before being kissed sloppily on the cheek. By Luke. Your cheeks flamed a burning red, eyes still wide as hell. The GIF was from a few nights ago at another one of your secret dance parties at Michael’s place. Calum had been doing one his rare Instagram livestreams and you didn’t realise that he’d caught that on camera. Inside, you were screaming.

But the guys were laughing and they seemed… proud. And happy. So, you let yourself smile and you drank to the toast – and then drank a whole lot more to drown out the memory.

‘@Luke5SOS come get ur shit from my house U prick im not doing your laundry’

You laughed at the tweet – it was supposed to be funny. It wasfunny. You knew he would get it.

There wasn’t a lot to get, the asshole really had left a small bag full of clothes at your house the last time he’d visited. Not for any reason, really, but in the months that you’d known him you knew that it was always bound to happen from time to time. He was a busy guy, and obviously you’d already cleaned it all. Shit-stirring was just your thing. Had been for, well, months.

Your phone started to vibrate violently on the kitchen counter a few minutes later, so you turned down the pasta on the stove and wandered over thinking it was Luke calling. The phone was flashing but when you picked it up, it was just Twitter. A lot of Twitter – too many to even count.

Tweet after tweet started rolling through and you frowned, confused. Ever since you’d met Luke you’d gotten used to a few mentions here and there and to the influx of followers on all of your social media accounts. But this was something different, something you weren’t quite familiar with.

You opened the app and your stomach sank as you immediately wished you hadn’t. They were hate tweets, flooding your mentions, all of them ranging from grammar Nazis to actual Nazis. You breath caught in your throat, fingers trembling so much that your phone actually dropped with a loud crackonto the tiled floor.

You knew that there were fans out there that weren’t overly happy with your presence in the lives of their Favourite Boys, but this was something else. Something you never would have thought would happen to you. You felt your bottom lip quiver and you couldn’t stop the small sob that slipped from your lips. Tears fell slowly down your cheeks, and for the first time in months, you were really glad that Luke wasn’t around.

“Y/N?”

The boys called for you as they filed in, this week’s secret dance party being held at your place. You jumped, surprised that they were here already. You weren’t expecting them for at least another hour, you hadn’t even gotten dressed yet. You were still sitting in your room in your bath towel, scrolling through your twitter feed.

You tried not to, especially after what had happened last week. And you did well for a few days, you just deleted the app and that was that. You couldn’t see the comments anymore so they couldn’t hurt you.

You just wanted to know if they’d stopped yet. You re-downloaded twitter to check and now, here you were, naked and trying to cover up the fact that you were crying again because you could hear somebody walking down the hallway towards your room.

“Y/N? You in here?” Luke knocked on the door but opened it up anyway, his sense of boundaries with you having disappeared weeks ago. You stumbled with your phone for a few seconds before you finally shoved it under your leg.

“Dude, what the fuck, I’m naked.” You shot weakly with an attempt at a frown. As soon as Luke saw you he frowned back, closing the door carefully and rushing over to you.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked, worry dripping from his tongue.

“Nothing, I’m fine.” You huffed, shifting uncomfortably on the bed as Luke sat next to you with your legs touching. You tried to move over a little bit to create some space, but you knew your phone would slip out if you did so you just leaned away from him a little bit.

“Cut the shit, Y/N.” Luke said, hand already on your back, carefully placed on the towel instead of your skin. You sniffled and shook your head. “Y/N, what’s up?”

Your throat tightened and you knew that whatever you said next was going to be accompanied by more tears. It sucked. You hated feeling so vulnerable, especially in front of Luke.

“I just…” Your lip quivered and you bit it in an attempt to make it stop. You glanced up at Luke for just a second, but that was all it took to tip you over the edge. You let out a dark laugh as a few tears escaped down your cheeks.

“I feel like an idiot!” You practically wailed, throwing your hands into the air before burying your face in them. You sobbed more than you had before into your hands, letting Luke pull you to him so he could wrap his arms around you properly.

“Hey!” He said in your ear. “Hey, come on, where is this coming from?! You’re not an idiot.”

“I am!” You replied, the words muffled by your hands. Luke pushed you away, hands grabbing your wrists so he could pull your hands away from your face and look into your eyes properly.

“Y/N, stop.” He said carefully, not really scolding you but trying to get you to calm down. You were about to hyperventilate, chest heaving and breaths shallow. “Breathe, bub, come on.” He reached for your face, thumb brushing away new tears spilling over your lash line. “What happened?”

You took a few more seconds to take some deep breaths and steady yourself before you even tried to speak again. You wiped your nose ungracefully on the towel and sighed.

“I… I just feel like I should have seen this coming, you know?” You finally said, so quietly you were almost afraid he wouldn’t hear you.

“Seen what coming, Y/N?” He asked, a frown embedded into his brow. You looked up at him, almost in disbelief but mostly just questioning.

“As if you haven’t noticed.” You deadpanned and Luke just shook his head, still not following what you were trying to say. You took another deep breath and closed your eyes.

“I… I’m getting a lot of… comments made about me.” You finally said the words out loud and it felt like a big weight had already been lifted off of your shoulders. When you opened your eyes, Luke’s face seemed to fall even more. He didn’t say anything though, and a new panic started to rise in your chest as you wondered if maybe he was mad at you now. If maybe that meant you couldn’t be friends anymore.

“Shit, Y/N…” he said after what felt like forever. “Y/N… I’m so sorry.” You sniffed again but shrugged, turning your face away from him so he couldn’t see the new tears pooling in your eyes.

“It’s whatever.” You said nonchalantly, finally feeling just numb enough as you braced yourself for the worse.

“Don’t say that, Y/N.” He seemed to tell you off. “It’s not whatever, it’s fucked up.”

You just shrugged again.

“Yeah, I know. But it’s whatever.”You snapped your head back up to look at Luke and he was frowning again, this time seeming a little angry. “It was bound to happen eventually, alright.”

Luke sighed, arm slinking around your shoulders again. The skin of his wrist brushed your bare skin for a second and you got shivers.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Y/N?” He said, softer now and pulling you closer so that you didn’t really have a choice but to rest your head into the crook of his neck. You gave a final heavy shrug and tried not to let the closeness between you fuck with your heart too much.

“I just… I thought I could handle it.” You told him, almost whispering. “I don’t want you to worry about me.”

Luke pressed a kiss to the top of your head and you really hoped he couldn’t feel you flush pink.

“I want to worry about you, Y/N.” He said. “I care about you.”

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spring-moonrabbit · 7 years

Text

Sweetheart Stealin’ - Jungkook Demon!AU Part One

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Demon!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Violence, Smut

Summary: You were a thief of material things, he was a thief of mortal life. You both lost count of your faults, until you cross paths.

Part One

Limp and lifeless. Her knuckles kissing the side of the newly ruined bed, in which she and Jungkook laid. He was propped up against the headboard, tapping the excess ash of his cigarette into the glass ashtray, staring at the woman’s naked body. Her skin was still covered in a slight sheen from the after sex glow, but her veins had stopped fuelling blood. Another one bit the dust. He took in the image of her auburn hair spilling across the emerald silk sheets, before getting up and and wiping the entirety of her body with a damp washcloth. It would be reckless to leave a dead body with his marks scattering her dead body. He learned from his mistakes. Such a waste of a woman, he thought, her tongue did wonders and those lips, have mercy on my mind. Jungkook then preceded to change the sheets and dump the old ones in his duffle bag. He dressed back into this black jeans and plain white shirt, adorned with the leather jacket before checking his appearance in the mirror.

Once her body was cleaned and tucked into bed, he got up and left. Closing the door to her apartment with his leather gloves, he sighed in relief, taking the small notebook from his bag and crossing out her name.

This was just another job he had to do.

You’re propped up against the back of the metal seat, sipping on the overly bitter mug of an americano. Your eyes wonder on the bag of a gentleman on your right. He dressed in a suit, with a large umbrella stacked against the cafe window. City worker, definitely. Legs crossed and patiently waiting to strike, you take the menu from the table and glance once again to your right.

At the age of 15, you got into massive trouble with a gang. You had mistakenly picked up a phone outside of the school gates, a phone that one member had dropped on their run from the police. Not realising the consequence it would lead you to, you slid it into your blazer pocket and walked off. Had it not been for your stupid decision to not leave the phone on the pavement, you wouldn’t have been in this mess that you call your life.

21 and still regretful, you’ve now become an asset to the gang. An asset that wants a way out.

The phone had rang 3 weeks after you picked it up, the next thing you know, a group of four men are pounding at your door. They had tracked the GPS which led them to you. Your 15 year old self, merely dressed in a pair of mismatched pyjamas and penguin shaped slippers felt fear shiver across your back. Stumbling back against the hallway wall, your mouth running dry. Intimidatingly all dressed in black, one of them grabs you by the throat and proceeds to squeeze. Your hands claw against his leather sleeve, tears building and your mouth ajar, gasping for a small breath. “Ple-please. I didn’t tell an-yone” you struggle to say. The man’s only reply is to squeeze tighter. 15, you were just 15.

The lids before your eyes start to see stars, a sign that you’ve begun to slip away. All noise becomes a muffled mess and you stop trying. You’ve accepted your fate and welcome it with open arms.

“Boss, she’s telling the truth. The police haven’t been on our tails for 3 weeks now and they didn’t find any evidence at the scene. The phone was the only thing that could have been evidence, but she’s kept it”, one of them speaks, holding back the arm that had you in an iron grip.

He lets go, your legs are limp as you crash into the floor, your body slump and curl, trying to protect you from them. Gasping and pressing onto your chest you struggle to push yourself away from the four men. A phone rings, taking three of the men’s attention, leaving one to see your frenzied state. He gives you a sympathetic look, mouthing ‘you ok?’. How can I be? You just tried to kill me.

The men gather in a circle and exchange words, before one of them drops a small card next to your feet.

‘Call us if you’re in need of a job, Sweetheart’.

Who would have thought that 5 years later you caved in and gave them a call. And now here you were, eyeing the leather brown bag of a city worker at a cafe by the side of an empty street. The clouds had begun to gather again, forming a grey overcast. Your phone buzzes the matching metal table, a text coming through from your boss, ‘come on sweetheart, time to grab and go xxx’. You drink the rest of your drink before you pretend to tie your shoelaces. Sweetheart, the name given to you by your boss, sticking from that fateful morning. It’s a code name, never once revealing your real name to them; it would be too risky.

You edge your hand closer to the strap of the bag, and then you run.

Heart pounding, the adrenaline kicking in, you run, your feet taking you to open streets, dodging parked cars and pedestrians. The city slicker is after you, bellowing after you “Thief! Thief!”. You laugh to yourself; this city was your playground, you knew this place like the back of your hand. You sling the bag across the shoulder, narrowly avoiding an incoming car. Your feet pick up speed, thanking yourself for picking up the lightest pair of trainers you owned. The hood of your jacket is blown back, revealing your head of hair. You sprint through the underpass and make a sharp left into some shrubs, allowing the man to continue running and losing him. Steadying your breath, you fumble through the bag and search for whatever was asked of you. Pens, a fiction novel, lecture papers. Aha! The red leather notebook.

‘i have it, red a5’.

You dash the bag and its content into the bush and head back into the direction you ran from. You’re to meet the gang in a couple of hours, having some time to spare. You rush the fingers through your disheveled now slightly damp hair. Your feet take you to a place that’s familiar. Sliding the book into the pocket of your jacket, you find your favourite milkshake store up ahead of you.

Ms. Thompson, the shop owner greets you with a smile, pointing to the usual table near the second hand gold mirror. You smile at her and wrap your jacket closer to your body. Pulling the chair out, you take in the familiar surroundings of the shop. The yellow velvet armchair in the corner sticks out against the teal wallpaper and woodland background that’s painted on the wall. The lights are dimmed, enhancing the mystery of this small milkshake shop. Your bamboo chair sits perfectly beside two others, as you wait for Ms Thompson to arrive.

“Hello Sweetheart. The usual?” she asks, her grey bun tucked under a net, as she pulls a pad from her navy blue uniform. You nod and say thank you. As she walks away, you take watch over the other customers. A family of three, a father taking his children for a spot of a sweet toothed lunch. In the corner is a gentleman, engulfed with today’s newspaper and a lady sits next to the door. Ms Thompson arrives briskly with your order of a mint chocolate milkshake and plate of chips, serving you an extra treat; a small lemon biscuit from her stash in the kitchen. “Let me know if you want anything else Sweetheart”, she rubs your shoulder before leaving you to enjoy your meal.

Just as you’re about to snatch a chip, the door chimes and in walks a stranger. His black leather jacket and ripped jeans catching your eye. Fixated on this stranger with his delectably handsome features, you watch as he nods at Ms Thompson before pointing to the table next to yours. God, he’s hot. You gulp as he approaches closer to you, his eyes connecting with yours. His chestnut brown hair glows amidst the yellow hue, his lips slightly pink from being bitten moments ago. Your heart pulsates as he smirks at you, taking the seat from the neighbouring table and pulls it, turning the back to face you, his legs spread on either side of it. He leans in, cocking his head to the side as he drinks in your face. Your eyes are blown wide, your throat trying to salvage any moisture. It takes you all of your willpower to restrain yourself from leaping onto his lap and pulling his face into yours. “So, what’s a pretty face like you doing here alone? Did your date leave you hanging?”, his pink tongue runs across his lips. You smirk at his cheekiness. Such a pretty face, I wonder if there’s a pretty name to match it?, he thinks to himself. You run your finger around the rim of your milkshake, the silver ring on your thumb knocking against the glass. “It depends, do you plan on joining me?” you answer. He grins as he cheekily picks up the chip you didn’t quite manage to eat.

“Erm, how dare you?” you gawk at him, the fucking nerve, that’s my food! His eyebrows are raised as he picks up another one, “Well, at least it gives me an excuse to buy you out sometime. Can’t say it wasn’t smooth” he winks. You grit your teeth together, pouting your lips and trying to avoid laughing at his remark. Can he not! He’s not making it easy for me.

“The name’s Sweetheart” you reply, finally taking a chip. He stops and looks at you with more interest. “Sweetheart? You must really like pet names from the get go” he smiles. You sigh and take a sip from the milkshake, now slightly melted from too much talk. “What can I say? It has a ring to it. Pretty face, pretty name”. He laughs at your reply and nods along. Suits you Sweetheart, suits you.

“So, does the thief of my food have a name?” you ask, shoving more chips in your mouth before he decided to take more. He slips off his leather jacket and hangs it on the back of the chair.

“If we’re calling each other with pet names then, call me baby. But I think Jungkook suits me better Sweetheart”.

| Two |

#jungkook fanfiction #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jungkook demon au #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts scenarios

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mandysimo13 · 7 years

Note

For the prompt thingy: #148 - “Why do you only kiss me when I’m sleeping?”

Hi nonny! Sorry this has taken so long but I hope the wait was worth it!

Sherlock dragged himself up the steps to their flat, swaying on his feet in exhaustion. The kind of exhaustion that only comes after good chase from a good case, complete with the food and sleep deprivation associated with a good puzzle. Every part of him was humming with satisfaction and called for the only thing that would make his victory complete: sleep.

As much as he liked to poke fun at John for needing such pedestrian things like food and sleep, he knew he wasn’t immune to them himself. And, upon opening the door to see the comfortingly familiar sight of the couch, his motivation to make the extra steps to his bed seemed insurmountable.

With a sigh of gratitude, he tipped himself over the arm rest, snuggling down deep into the worn leather and closed his eyes.

“Sherlock,” John called behind him. “Come on, mate, you’re going to get a crick in your neck if you sleep like that.”

“Nnnnngh,” was all the protest Sherlock could muster in reply, though he was sure that it sufficiently conveyed “piss off, trying to sleep here, John”.

John put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently to try and rouse him. Not wanting to be bothered, he pretended to be asleep so as not to be further disturbed. John huffed a soft “git” and walked away, leaving him be. Triumphant, Sherlock let his mind drift on its way to sleep.

But then the weight of a blanket covered his body and nearly jerked him out of his limbo between wakefulness and sleep. He felt the dry pressure of a set of lips against his temple and it took all his remaining will power not to press back into it. Then, impossibly, a voice whispered to him.

“Good night, Sherlock.”

John! John kissed me good night! Whatwhatwhatwhatwha....zzzzzz

He was fully asleep before he could process what had just happened.

Sherlock grumbled awake. Frowning, he rubbed his neck as, predictably, a crick presented itself. Fresh-faced and smiling, John came tromping down the stairs and smiled at Sherlock’s discomfort.

“Not a word,” Sherlock told him, wagging a finger in warning.

“Wasn’t gonna,” John assured him. “Tea?”

“God, yes.”

Breakfast was a normal affair of tea, toast, and eggs. Sherlock munched away on his toast, having the inkling that he was forgetting something. Something important. It bothered him.

John took in his furrowed brows and asked if there was anything wrong. Sherlock shook his head. “Not that I can recall. I just feel...fuzzy. There’s a piece of data out of place but I can’t recall it. Terribly annoying.”

John stood, putting his dishes in the sink. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find it.” He put a comforting hand on Sherlock’s shoulder and said, “I’m off to the clinic. See you tonight.”

Sherlock’s whole body stiffened. John’s hand on him, like the night before, triggered his memory. John trying to rouse him, the blanket, the kiss. He looked up into John’s eyes to find his expression soft but not overly affectionate. He didn’t look like he wanted to kiss him again. Perhaps it had been a fluke. A sudden urge to care for someone after strenuous activity. It wouldn’t have been unheard of.

But...what if John wanted to kiss him for real. On the lips, on Sherlock’s conscious person, being kissed in return? Did Sherlock want that? Yes, completely and totally, he answered himself immediately.

“Are you alright, Sherlock,” John asked, knocking him out of his reverie.

Sherlock physically shook the thoughts from his mind. “I’m sorry, lost in thought. Yes, quite alright.”

“Alright, then. See you later.” Then he was gone without another word, footsteps fading down the stairs then out onto the streets of London.

Sherlock stared after him, at the empty space John had left behind, formulating a plan. It wouldn’t be too difficult to test his theory. He simply needed to give John more chances to kiss him. Both awake and asleep. He would pretend to fall asleep everywhere in the flat if that gave John more chances. He would present opportunities whilst awake that would clearly indicate that kissing was an option. He would find ways to entice John Watson to kiss him again, one way or another.

Path set, he got to work.

Over the course of a week, Sherlock had pretended to fall asleep on the couch again, in his chair, in the cab on the way home from dinner, and at the kitchen table. Falling asleep on the couch again hadn’t garnered a kiss, only a shaking awake and a question of whether or not he wanted thai for dinner. The cab ride also hadn’t yielded any kisses, thought Sherlock supposed it was because that was more public and thus a touch more embarrassing for a grown man to be seen kissing another grown man whilst he slept so he could forgive that.

However, falling asleep curled up in his chair and at the table with his head curled into his arms brought forth promising results.

In his chair, John had gently brushed the fringe away from Sherlock’s head and a ghost of a kiss was brushed above his eyebrow. Happiness had curled itself so completely in his chest that he couldn’t help but snuggle down further into his chair, hoping that John would repeat the action after seeing how pleasantly Sherlock had reacted. But, alas, it was just the one and Sherlock was left to sleep.

Falling asleep at the table had John tiptoeing quietly into the kitchen, sighing fondly. Before Sherlock knew it, John’s hand was smoothing the curls of his hair down and a kiss was pressed firmly, lovingly, onto the top of his head. John stood there for several long minutes, staring at him, and Sherlock longed to drop the experiment and tell John to do it again but against his lips.

But before he could muster the courage, John had retreated, leaving Sherlock to sham a fake yawn and “wake up”.

He put down these reactions to the probability of John thinking he was “adorable” and had to suppress an eye-roll at the thought. Still, he wouldn’t discourage the moniker if it got John kissing him more often.

Part one of the experiment, recreating conditions for John to kiss him while sleeping was definitely coming along swimmingly. Part two, however, was proving more difficult.

Sherlock had presented numerous opportunities for kissing. He invaded John’s personal space, angling his face closely as he spoke to his flatmate to give him convenient access. He complimented him, making the man smile and boosting his confidence and hopefully making him more susceptible to affectionate outbursts. He even took the man out for dinner! At Angelo’s no less! With a candle, wine, and dessert and all! The whole lot clearly indicating a date! But no matter what he tried, John would just stare at his lips, breathe a mote quicker, and find a reason to excuse himself anytime Sherlock thought he might have convinced John to make a move.

When John left for the clinic he tugged the ends of his hair in frustration and began pacing. He desperately wanted to take John’s face in his hands and just kiss him already! But that would defeat the purpose of the experiment, trying to decipher John’s real feelings. No, he would not rush the man. No matter how he felt. At a loss, Sherlock settled onto the couch to reorganize his mind palace.

Next thing he knew it was dark and John was home. He could hear his flatmate’s steps coming up the stairs and he forced himself to remain in his semi-sprawled state on the couch. It would be clear to John that he had fallen asleep while reorganizing. Definitely something John would consider “adorable” while Sherlock would find it lazy and unproductive.

John stepped through the door and chuckled slightly to see Sherlock passed out on the couch. Sherlock listened as John toed off his shoes and set his briefcase aside. The rustling of clothing signaled the removal of a jacket and then quiet feet were padding their way over to the couch. Sherlock suppressed a smirk at John’s attempts to not disturb him. John leaned down, quite close to his face and whispered, “bloody narcoleptic cat, you are.”

Then, something new happened.

John didn’t direct his kiss to Sherlock’s forehead, temple, or crown of his head. Nor did he put it on his eyebrows, nose or cheek.

He kissed the corner of Sherlock’s lips. A brief, chaste action borne of sentiment and it made Sherlock’s heart ache. He couldn’t hold back any longer, knowing now for sure this was beyond simple affection.

Without opening his eyes he spoke to John. “Why do you only kiss me when I’m sleeping?”

John jumped backward, not expecting Sherlock to open his mouth. “Jeezus, Sherlock!” When Sherlock opened his eyes, John was clutching his heart, eyes wide.

“Answer the question, John,” he pushed. “Why do you only kiss me when I’m sleeping?”

John hung his head in embarrassment. “You’ve known this whole time?”

“I’ve only been testing my theory for about a week. Though, judging by the ease of your actions and your words just now, I take it you’ve been doing it longer?”

John nodded. “Awhile, yeah.”

“How long is awhile?”

John bit his lip. “A couple months.”

“Months?! Good god, John! Whatever for?! And you still haven’t answered my original question! I do so hate to repeat myself.”

John sighed heavily and sat next to Sherlock on the couch. “They’re one in the same. Sneakily doing it while you’re asleep.” He clasped his hands in his lap and refused to look at Sherlock in the eye. “I’ve come to terms with my...attraction to you, Sherlock. But you said before that you were married to your work. That you were uninterested. And you’ve dated no one the whole time we’ve been flatmates and so I thought-”

He paused, reigning in some of his panic. “I thought that you would call me stupid, sentimental, and be angry with me. I’ve tried to be a good sport about it. I don’t force myself on you. You’re my friend.” he said, finally looking up at him. “I don’t want to lose you.” His lips stretched into a small, sad smile and he continued. “But when you’re sleeping it’s...safe. Your face looks soft, sweet, open. How could anyone not want to kiss you?”

Sherlock’s heart began to break. “John-”

“But now that you know, I suppose I’ve cocked it all up.” He closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I’ll be out of here as soon as possible.”

Sherlock blinked, not at all understanding. “Where?”

“A new flat. That’s what you want, right? To not live with a flatmate pining for you.”

The words left Sherlock’s lips without permission. “John, you’re an idiot.”

John flinched, stung. “Yeah, got it.” He stood up and turned, making his way towards the stairs to his room.

Without thinking, Sherlock’s hand shot out to grip John’s wrist. “John, wait!” They stood there, staring at each other. John was determined not to speak first so, swallowing thickly, Sherlock plucked up his courage. He drew John close, his flatmate moving willingly even as his eyes darted around Sherlock nervously. One hand still clasped firmly around John’s wrist, the other came up to caress John’s cheek. John’s eyes were wide and uncertain, silently pleading for explanation.

Then, without further prompting or explanation, Sherlock bent his head and kissed him.

John stiffened in surprise at first. But when Sherlock showed no signs of stopping or announcing that his kiss was a trick, he kissed back with enthusiasm. He parted his lips with a soft groan, allowing Sherlock to deepen the kiss. His hands went into Sherlock’s hair as Sherlock’s arms wound themselves around John’s waist. The kiss was unhurried, tender, full of sliding lips and tasting tongues until they needed to part for breath.

John opened his eyes, staring up at Sherlock. “Sherlock-”

“You’ve had lots of kisses in your life, haven’t you John?”

John licked his lips then nodded. “Lots.”

“All manner of kisses. Men, women.”

“Yes.”

Sherlock pulled him impossibly closer and nuzzled John’s nose with his own. He closed his eyes, savoring the feeling. “Fancy a few more?”

John chuckled lightly, answering even as he kissed him, “oh god, yes.”

#johnlock #fic #prompt #writing #my writing #sherlock #Anonymous

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fictionwriter26-blog · 6 years

Text

The English Project

Kat’s English teacher was going to kill her. She had a short story assignment due in two days and she didn’t even have an outline started. It was supposed to be fifteen pages of anything she could think of and all she had was a crappy title. “Coffee shops” she scoffed, what kind of title was that? Usually she was pretty good at this sort of thing. Today however, was not one of those days.

She had been holed up in her favourite coffee shop on Granville Street for at least three hours, her laptop mocking her. Her legs tingled from being bent up under her for so long. The chair she sat in was comfortable and familiar. It was her chair these days-she spent so much time here they might as well make a sign. The smell of espresso and baked goods wafted from behind the counter. Her mouth watered as a fresh tray of muffins appeared from the kitchens. An employee she did not recognize slipped them into the display case and posted the prices. Her eyes drooped again.

Four cups of bitter drip coffee had done absolutely nothing to wake her up and her laptop was almost dead. Glancing out the window at the constant, unmoving flow of Vancouver traffic, she heard the endless shriek of car horns, pedestrian chatter and whining cyclists. She pictured hailing a cab to take her away. Anywhere would be fine, as long as it wasn’t home.

After illness took her father last year, the house had become a dead zone. Her mom was intent on living life to the fullest and not wasting time, so she was always out doing something. Her brother was always working or out with friends so there was never anyone home. Not that it really mattered. It was just so quiet. Kat hated quiet these days.

She was snapped out of her musings by an incredibly green pair of eyes and a smile. Her favourite barista, Chase.

“Long day?” he asked quietly, sliding a steaming mug of hot chocolate across the table toward her.

“The longest” she replied with a grateful smile, curling her hands around the warm, brightly coloured ceramic.

He grinned at her over his wide framed glasses. “What are you writing about this week?”

Wordlessly she turned her laptop toward him and raised her eyebrows.

“Ahh, it’s one of those days then” he chuckled. Kat just groaned and dropped her head to the table.

She heard Regan, the owner and manager, shouting obscure coffee orders and barking at employees over the white noise of the shop. Chase sighed, “I better get back to work before she goes completely insane.”

Kat laughed at that. “That’s probably a good idea.”

“See you tomorrow?” he asked, seeming hopeful.

“Most likely.” she said with a smirk. “Who else is going to polish off your entire caramel mocha stock?” All she heard was a sharp laugh as he walked away. Chase had been dubbed by the regulars as the “caretaker” and Kat had always understood why. He had an impulsive need in him to make sure that every single customer was well looked after and smiling.

Turning back to her laptop with a sigh, Kat realized that her battery had finally decided that she wasn’t going to be writing anything worth while and died. Contemplating how to tell her teacher that her fish, had eaten her homework. Kat admitted defeat.

Stepping heavily into her bedroom, she dropped face first onto her bed, exhausted. Her mom was out doing yoga and James was at the movies with some friends. She was alone. It was quiet again. She figured that some music would fix that problem at least. She fumbled with her phone, her body like lead, eventually she managed to find the play button and soft melodies filled the silence. She could have fallen asleep then and there but she knew she had to plug in her computer and try to get some work done. Even if it was just a rough draft. Problem was, she had no motivation to move. Eventually, hunger won over and she got up. Fiddling with the charger, she managed to plug in her laptop and left it to scavenge for food. She returned twenty minutes later with three slightly stale pop tarts and some milk. Attempting to dislodge pop tart from the roof of her mouth, she dropped unceremoniously into her desk chair. Once again in front of her crappy titled blank canvas. Only…it wasn’t blank. Gaping like her fish, Kat stared at the computer screen, unmoving.

There on the screen was fifteen pages of short story. She read through the pages, trying to remember writing any of this. She couldn’t. The entire document had a consistent flow and it read smoothly. A well-crafted plot, clear, definitive details, characters that seemed relatable and a decent conclusion. It seemed to be about a girl having trouble writing an assignment for English class, who ended up whisked away to another universe similar but different than the one she had left behind. All through the back room of her favorite coffee shop. It even included Kat’s signature reference to pears, which she always included into her stories because Billy Coleman had dared her once in eighth grade that she couldn’t reference a fruit during her persuasive argument essay assignment.

Kat couldn’t believe it. Her story was finished, except she hadn’t finished it… Hell she hadn’t even started it. She had been worried about this project for weeks because it was the replacement project to her final exam. Every other assignment she’d had all year had been handed in on time and fully completed. This one had terrified her due to the sheer size and depth of it. She had never done anything of this size before. Usually with her writing, she got in, wrote a few pages and got out again. It worked best for her that way. It was part of the reason she had been having such a tough time with the project, she didn’t know how to keep going. Yet here it was, fully completed with her name in the top corner. Still utterly bewildered and slightly scared she would get caught for magical plagiarism, she printed two copies of the story and emailed one to her teacher just in case.

Kat frowned suddenly, the title had been altered only slightly.

“Coffee shops, and Their Caretakers.”

She thought immediately of Chase but she couldn’t figure out how he had done it. She knew she had to speak to him before she made any assumptions, of course that didn’t mean that she wasn’t completely freaked out by the whole thing. Sighing slightly, Kat lifted her phone to check the time. White numbers glared at her from the overly bright screen, 10:30. “Late enough for bed I guess.” she murmured, closing the laptop with a resounding click.

It was the slamming of the front door that woke her. James must’ve just left. Groaning, Kat reached blindly in the general direction of her phone. 9:02 glared back at her from the too bright screen. “Shit!” She practically flew out of bed and across the room. She had to talk to Chase before opening at 10 so he wouldn’t get distracted. Though she knew Chase often unlocked the door before officially opening in case some of the local homeless population wanted somewhere warm to sit for awhile. She also knew about the hot chocolate he offered

them, payed for out of his own pocket so Regan wouldn’t know. Throwing on clothes, grabbing her phone and laptop bag, Kat ran for the SkyTrain platform.

She burst into the blessedly still closed shop with a gasp. “Chase, I need to-” she stopped cold at the sight before her. Two large men in suits stood in front of the counter. Something was off about them though. She studied them blankly. Suddenly she saw it, they were shimmering! It wasn’t Edward Cullen in twilight (thank god). It was more like the one of the holograms from Star Wars. Chase was facing the shiny suit guys from behind the counter, a dishtowel thrown over his shoulder. The men turned upon hearing her entrance. “Hey, your business is with me not her” Chase stated in a cold, sharp tone she had never imagined he possessed. “Chase what-”

“You need to go Kat.” He cut her off.

“No, I’m not just going to leave you here with these goons.” Her spine straightened in defiance as she glared at him, though terror spread through her veins.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” He replied, finally meeting her gaze. There was fear in those green eyes she knew so well and that scared her more than any thugs could.

“Whatever this is about.” She stepped forward hands raised slightly. “Let me help you fix it.”

“These matters are none of your concern little girl.” One of the suits finally spoke, his tone empty.

“He’s my friend, that makes this my concern.” she shot back, hoping she sounded braver than she felt. Both suits turned their full attention her and neither one saw Chase reach for the coffee can tip jar. Without warning he swiped it off the counter toward the floor. As it fell he vaulted the counter and dove to the left. The tip jar shattered at feet of the suits. Shards of glass flew in all directions and Kat stepped back, shielding her face with her arms. Chase didn’t hesitate as he ducked between the distracted men, and ran right at her. “Run!” he grabbed her hand as he bolted for the door. He pulled her out the door and into the crowd on the street.

He finally slowed a few minutes later in a needle-littered alley that smelled heavily of marijuana and garbage, which were probably not the only things in the large city dumpster beside her. She turned to him once she could breathe without choking. “What the hell was that?! Who were those guys and why were they glowing?” She demanded, glaring hard at him.

He studied her for a moment, stepping back slightly to lean against the gray brick of the wall across from her. Eventually he spoke, his tone even. “Those men aren’t from here, the rest you wouldn’t believe if I told you. Or you would and I’m pretty sure that would be worse.”

“Try me.” She jumped up to perch on the closed dumpster lid and raised an eyebrow. Finally calm enough to want answers.

He regarded her carefully. “Why did you come to see me this morning?”

He was avoiding the question and she knew it, but she would let him have this one. “The story.”

His eyebrows pinched together. “What story?”

“Oh, come on don’t play dumb. The story that you somehow wrote on my laptop.”

He stared at her, a genuinely bewildered look across his features. “I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about. I never wrote any story.”

She paused, listening to the white noise of traffic and waiting for him to admit he was kidding. Realizing that he was being truthful, she continued. “Then how and why is my assignment finished when I didn’t finish it?” Shaking her head, she met his eyes, looking for any sign of answers. Scratching at the back of his neck, he stepped towards her and gestured to her bag. “You have it with you?” wordlessly she slipped the strap from her shoulder and held it out to him. He sat back in a crouch, balancing on his toes and pulled her laptop from its messy pockets. He held the device against his knee, ensuring that her computer stayed off the sticky, trash covered pavement. She stayed silent as he opened the document and read through it. He swore softly to himself as he finished. “We need to go.” He said suddenly, springing to his feet.

“What?” her eyes widened as he shoved everything back into her bag and started fiddling with his watch. “They know about you. That I care about you at least, and they probably think you know more. We need to get out of here before the bureau finds us.”

“Know more about what?” she shouted, getting angry now. “What bureau? Chase seriously, what the hell is going on?”

“There’s no time. Do you trust me or not?”

“what do you mean do I-”

“Do you trust me” he cut her off again.

She gawked at him, trying to gauge how serious he was. How serious could he possibly be in an alley in Vancouver where nothing ever existed except rats and homeless addicts. She searched his face for the hint of a laugh trying to escape. She found nothing but a sort of pleading worry on his face, that was the reason she agreed then and there. “Ok.”

“Ok?” he seemed stunned.

“yes, now before I change my mind, what do you need me to do?”

“Just stand back and don’t scream.” He threw a smirk over his shoulder as he spun to face the wall he had leaned on.

“why would I scream?” She hopped from the dumpster to stand at beside him.

He grinned at her familiar and easy, then raised his wrist toward the gray brick of the wall in front of them. A whiteish beam of light came from his watch as Kat stared in shocked silence. It looked like something from a bad eighties sci-fi movie and it was even stranger when it began to widen into an archway. she stepped back and nearly tripped over her own feet. Chase lowered his arm, but the strange white arch remained. “what the hell is that and what are you not telling me?”

“you said you trusted me.” She could hear the smirk in his voice.

“with getting us away from the suit guys! Not with some freaky portal thing.”

“This is how we get away. Now let’s go.”

“you want me to go through there?” she said in utter disbelief.

“Yes. Now let’s go” he grinned again.

“fine. But this better not end with me losing a hand. Or a head for that matter.”

“Don’t worry I’ve got you.”

She stepped toward the arch tentatively. “So, I just walk through?”

“Yeah. Just relax.”

She inhaled slowly, trying to ease the terror clawing its way up her throat, and reached out to grab Chase’s hand. “If I’m going we’re going together.”

“Ok. Together.”

“Together.” She said again.

He clutched her hand tightly as they stepped through the arch, into what she wasn’t sure.

Kat still wasn’t entirely sure how much she actually understood about what was happening. She was even less sure how Chase was going to explain it. She wondered the most about what this all had to do with the short story from her computer. Kat realized two things at once. Her eyes were still squeezed shut and she still had a death grip on Chase’s hand. “you know you can let go now right?” she heard a soft chuckle pull itself from his chest. Slowly her eyes crept open. Confusion was the only thing she could feel. She turned slowly on the spot, and she felt her shoulders tense. She turned to look at Chase, noting the amused expression on his face. “Is this some weird prank?” They were standing in an alley that was nearly identical to the one they had just left. The needles on the pavement, the dumpster to her left, even the gray brick was the same. To Kat, it looked as though they hadn’t moved at all, though she vividly remembered stepping into the freaky, glowing white portal thing.

“This is no prank trust me”

“Then where are we?” She snarked at him “because by the looks of things this, is some sort joke.”

“It’s not a joke I promise. we aren’t in Vancouver anymore.”

Yeah, alright Dorothy, whatever you say” She scoffed at him as his grin widened.

“This place doesn’t have a name. I usually just call it the other.”

“The other what exactly?”

“the other plain, the other dimension, the other universe, you get the point I’m sure.” Chase watched her carefully, possibly waiting for her to laugh or maybe experience a mental breakdown, but she did nothing, just held his eyes. Finally, she dropped his gaze and sighed heavily.

“you don’t believe me huh?” he said before she could tell him as much.

“you really expect me to believe that we’re in some sort of alternate reality?” Her eyebrows raised as she contemplated how to get the hell out of there.

“Not right away no.”

She watched his cheeks flush as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Let me prove it to you. Then I’ll explain what I can.”

“Explain things how?” she was still skeptical. His lips pulled into a smile again and he held out his hand again. “Walk with me.

She had only followed Chase to get away from the shiny suit guys. Now she was apparently trapped in an alternate universe, (not that she believed that) and Chase was giving her no clear answers whatsoever. She knew that she should have second guessed following him, but for some unexpected reason she trusted him. she just hoped she was right and this wasn’t some elaborate kidnapping scheme. She hesitated a moment longer then took his hand and slipped out of the alley onto the street.

“Ok so I need you to keep an open mind about this.”

“what do you call not screaming and running?” she tried to sound casual, but her voice shook slightly, and she knew he caught it. “shock.” He replied with a wide smirk.

“Ok, ok but seriously start talking.” Just as she said this, a loud shriek pierced the white noise of the city. She stared at sight coming right at her, but no one else seemed to notice. Barrelling down the sidewalk towards her was a man dressed in mud coated chainmail armor wielding a sword and clutching a badly dented medieval style shield. He raised the blade toward her as he approached, pulling his arm back to swing. She opened her mouth to scream. Rough hands tugged her sideways sharply. Chase. The knight in not so shining armor, bolted straight into a familiar looking white arch placed right there in the middle of the sidewalk. She tensed as she looked around, waiting for somebody to point out the anomaly. No one did. They all remained glued to their phone screens or in deep conversation, not a single one even glanced at it. Stepping out from behind her, Chase closed it as quickly as he’d opened the one in the alley. Kat turned to him expectantly once again. She was starting to think that confused and slightly scared were going to become her default emotions soon. “Ok now you really need to start talking.”

He pulled her up the rusted, creaky metal staircase without pause. They had ducked into what appeared to be an old warehouse because Chase had told her that the mysterious bureau had surveillance everywhere. She had only believed him after seeing large robot-like droids flying overhead, weaving through the crowd every few minutes. Sliding to the floor, Chase busied himself by picking at a piece of chipped concrete next to him. “What do you want to know first?” He still wasn’t looking at her.

“First off, why were those guys glowing this morning?”

“They work for the bureau and the glowing was because they weren’t disguised by bureau tech, as they usually are in your world. they wanted to be sure I knew exactly who they were. The glowing just happens when agent’s cross through the Keygates. Nobody knows exactly why.”

Who or what, is this bureau you keep mentioning?”

“They’re government organization from this universe, tasked with fixing things like what you saw in the street today.” His answer was honest, that much she could see.

“You mean the really dedicated cosplayer?”

“He wasn’t a cosplayer.” Chase chuckled nudging her leg with the tip of his shoe.

“Ok, but the only other explanation I can come up with is crazy.”

“After all you’ve seen today you still think something is crazy?”

“Ok fair but it is pretty crazy. Just tell me before I embarrass myself.” She reached out to smack his arm, cheeks pink.

“Fine.” He smirked. “The bureau deals with historical inaccuracies due to a broken timeline. People and other things from different periods of history have been accidentally scattered through time and the bureau was formed to fix things.” Chase shrugged “That’s not to say they actually do their job well, but no one can see the inaccuracies anyway, so it really doesn’t matter.”

“Hold up, if no one else can see them then why can I?”

“You’re not this world. You were never put under the veil.”

“The veil is what exactly?”

“A type of technology used to disguise any abnormalities a person might notice. They are enacted when children turn nine. So that no one notices the time paradoxes around them. Kids don’t realize that what they are seeing is real when they’re still so young, and if they do, they get put under the veil early.”

“How are people put under the veil then?”

“Parents take their kids to the doctors for a check-up and doctors inject a microchip with the tech under the guise of mandatory vaccinations. The parents are non-the wiser and the kids each get a dinosaur sticker.”

“That my friend, is some comic book type shit right there. But I have to ask, dinosaur stickers? Seriously?” A disbelieving laugh pulled itself from her throat.

Chase looked affronted. “Hey dinosaurs are cool!”

He grinned at her, oddly pleased. “I suppose you’re right though. It is like something out of a comic book.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Haven’t you been doing that all day?” His eyebrows lifted, lips pulling upwards.

“Don’t be a smartass, I’m serious!” She laughed, swatting at his leg.

“Alright what’s on you mind?”

“The two bureau guys from the shop this morning, what did they want with you?”

Chase froze. His eyes darkened, his hands clenched, and his shoulders curled inward as he hung his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean-” she started.

“It’s fine.” His tone was flat and emotionless as he let a sigh pass his lips. “I’m not from you’re world.

“I think I got that.” She smiled softly, “you weren’t exactly subtle.” His answering smile held a bitter edge.

“No, I suppose not. Anyway, I was an intern in the Charting Department of the bureau five years ago. The guys in Charting map out history so that the field agents know where and when to return each paradox.”

“What does that have to do with you making espresso in downtown Vancouver in another universe?”

“I was getting there, be patient.”

“That’s not a strong suit of mine.”

Chase gave a real smile at that. “No, it really isn’t. anyhow most of history is hard to pinpoint here. Our universes are very much the same save for a few things. One of those being our incredibly poor record keeping throughout time. My father ended up stumbling onto something. I was never told what it was but everyone knew it was big.

“Again, what does that have to do with-” She started to ask, but was cut off again as Chase was lost to the tale he was spinning.

“My father was taken into the higher offices of the bureau a few weeks after he found whatever it was and I never saw him again. I tried looking into his disappearance but never found anything except dead ends and agitated bureau snobs.

“What do you mean?”

I mean that they didn’t need to threaten me for me to understand that asking any more questions would have gotten me killed. There’s something the bureau wants to keep hidden. That’s why they offered me a chance to learn about history in its entirety. By sending me through a gateway to your world, they got me out of the way. They didn’t say it but I knew that if I went through, I wouldn’t be allowed to return to this world, and if I did I would be treated as a hostile and executed.”

“Why hell would you leave everything behind if you knew you couldn’t come back?” Kat asked arms waving madly as she tried to comprehend why he would leave everything he had known.

“There wasn’t anything left here for me.” He snapped, eyes ablaze as he jerked forward and wrapped a hand around her wrist. His grip was tight but not painful and she realized that he was simply desperate for her to understand his actions. She wondered if this was because he didn’t understand them himself. Chase continued. “Gateway travel was new and exciting, as was more of a chance to study history.”

“Gateways are the white arch things, right?”

“Yes, they are also referred to as Keygates. At the time they offered me the trip there was only one open. We didn’t have the tech for the portable ones yet.” He gestured to his watch.

“If you left before the tech was out, how do you have one?” A wide infectious grin lit up his face. “I got tired of being a rule following sheep destined to do the bureau’s bidding. I intercepted a field agent’s gate and slipped back over. Snagged one while outrunning a few agents after they realized I had returned. Problem is that no one has worked out all the kinks yet so each watch can only open three gates before they need to be replaced.” Chase stopped suddenly a panicked look crossing his features.

“What is it?” Kat whispered, the look on his face making terror once again claw it’s way up her throat.

He met her eyes, white as a sheet. “I’ve already opened three gates with this one. I can’t get us home.”

Kat sat stunned until an idea came to her. “you’ve only opened two with that one! One to get us here and one to save my life!” Chase shook his head sadly, “I had to open one to get to your world right after I grabbed this model. So saving your life earlier makes three. I can’t get us home.” His shoulders slumped again and he rubbed his hand over his face. He looked much older in that moment, weary and tired as if all the hope had left him. “If the bureau finds us we’re dead. We can’t run forever.”

“We have to find a way to get home.” Her voice shot from between her lips in a choked sob. The harsh reality of his words settled over her like a blanket of tar. Thick and heavy, suffocating her.

“There isn’t one Kat. Even if we manage to avoid detection, somebody will realize that you’re not from here and report us. So what else do you want me to say?”

“I want you to say that there’s another option. that we’re not just trapped here until the bureau finds us.”

“I don’t think there is.” He shrugged his shoulders as she stared hopelessly back at him.

“What do you suggest then, running from the bureau forever. Never able to relax because they might be just behind us?” She looked up at him expectantly. He paused and she saw an idea cross his face.

“What? What are you thinking?” Brilliant green eyes met hers, and just by that look she knew there was hope for them yet.

“I think our only option is to break back into HQ.”

She stared at him, waiting for the punchline to what had to be the worlds worst joke. Chase just held her gaze. “Your joking.” She scoffed, “Please tell me your joking.”

“I’m serious! They leave the base Gate up all the time. All we need to do is get to it and we’re home free. We wouldn’t need one of the watches!” She could see he wasn’t going to let this go. She knew he was right. She certainly couldn’t come up with a plan to navigate a world she didn’t know. There was no other way. She nodded stiffly. “Alright fine, but if we die in there I’m going to kill you.” She warned him. He laughed lightly, almost seeming to bounce. “I’ll be sure to hold you to that.” Sighing, she stood and stretched, holding out a hand to pull him up. “So, what’s the plan?” He smiled again, that same comforting smile, and together they got to work.

#original work #first story posted #comments are appreciated #i'm new at this

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