#thought it was my neighbors cat at first and realized it looked WAY too big for how far away it was | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hopingforromanoff · 2 years

Text

You're a Cute One Miss Grinch {Y. Belova}

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Reader

Warnings: a few curse words

Word Count: 1,236

Requests are currently closed

A/n: Alright y’all this is my 11 and final day of 12 days of fluffmas! I had a ton of fun with this and thank you guys for hanging around and read. Also, a huge thank you to my girlfriend for doing this with me! Make sure you head over to check out @too-gay-for-marvel for her final two fics tomorrow!

Let me know your thoughts, feelings, or just come into my inbox for a chat!

Happy Holidays Y’all

~Lucy

My Masterlist

12 Days of Fluffmas Masterlist

__________________________

The second Yelena opened the door to her backyard to let Fanny out, she could hear it. The loud, insistent sound of Christmas music, it had first started early december and seemed to grow with each day as Christmas neared. Yelena looked out across the yard and into your window to see you dancing across the kitchen with your cat in your arms. He looked equally as hopeful as herself that this Christmas nightmare would soon be over, and their quiet, Ohio suburban neighborhood would return to business as usual.

It wasn’t that Yelena hated christmas….it was just that…Yelena shook off the thought. She entered the house, slamming the door behind her leaving Fanny to suffer by herself.

***

On the 12th day of Christmas, Yelena was about to lose it. If it wasn’t for your stupidly, cheerful music, then it would be your ridiculously bright Christmas lights, that you just HAD to keep on ALL night.

Yelena had settled into bed early that night, hopeful to get a good night's sleep. But it seemed that the world had other plans for her. Through her blinds, she could see the bright white of your icicle house lights, and the reds, and greens for the giant tree you had decorated on your front lawn.

Yelena slipped on her shoes and a jacket, and stomped her way over to your house. She almost tripped over the stupid fake candy canes you had lining the path your house on the way.

“Oh Hi Yelena!” you greeted, brushing your flour covered hands on your cooking apron.

“Look, I get that you go all out with Christmas decorations, but I can see your flashing lights through the blinds on my bedroom windows and they’ve kept me awake the past few days…” Yelena stopped short as a heartbroken look fell on your face.

“Oh.. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize, I’m so sorry, Yelena”

“You know what… It’s okay, would you mind just turning them off before you go to bed?” Yelena smiled at you, and you smiled back at her and nodded. God dammit… that stupid beautiful smile of yours.

***

It was an oh so silent night…that was until a knock sounded at Yelena’s door.

“ I brought you something as an apology for all the lights ” You smiled at Yelena when she opened the door. She invited you in with a big smile on her face, and cheeks flushed red. It wasn’t like Yelena had a massive crush on her pretty neighbor or anything…..it was just that Yelena had a big crush on her pretty neighbor. It had started small at first when she moved it, but now it seems to grow with each interaction with you. Stupid holiday season, and stupid feelings. Yelena shook it off as you started placing down a flask on hot chocolate and pulling a bag of fresh sugar cookies and two mugs from a bag that had been thrown over your shoulder.

When you reached down to pour the hot chocolate, Fanny came barreling excitedly into the room, almost knocking you off your feet. You didn’t fall through, Yelena caught you. And when Yelena looked into your eyes, everything seemed to fade around her. She could no longer hear the tv playing in the background, or the sound of fanny’s claws on the hardwood floor. She could only see you, and all she could think about was how much she wanted to kiss you.

“I should go” You pulled Yelena from her thoughts, and made a quick exit. You were just as awkward as Yelena was when it came to situations like this.

Yelena watched as you left. Stupid holiday season, stupid clumsy dog and stupid feelings.

***

Twas the night before Christmas and not a creature was stirring… Well except Yelena. She yelled, throwing a roll of wrapping paper across the room in frustration. Fanny yipped and darted out the way to avoid getting hit. Stupid fucking christmas, and stupid fucking wrapping paper. She looked down at the messily wrapped gift in her lap and wanted to cry, this was the first Christmas her family was planning on having since….and she wanted to at least have wrapped gifts.

The sight of your lights peeking through her blinds caught her eye, and she knew what she needed to do.

She walked to your door looking like a kicked puppy.

“Oh Yelena” You opened the door and couldn’t help but laugh. She was covered in tape, and wrapping paper scraps from head to toe, and even had a random sticky bow stuck in her hair.

“Please help” Yelena walked into your house, dumping all the wrapping supplies, and gifts on the floor in your living room.

After a few cups of chocolate, and many laughs later all of the gifts were wrapped.

“So what’s your deal, Yelena” You leaned back on the arm of your chair.

“My deal?” Yelena raised her eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, Why do you hate Christmas so much?”

“Oh well… it's not that I hate christmas. My sister and I had a….rough childhood and ummm well…we didn’t even really have any family, much less a christmas” You grabbed Yelena’s hand when she seemed to struggle to get the words out.

“Oh Yelena, I’m sorry” You scooched a little closer to her to comfort her.

“No, it’s okay, the past is the past, and my family is back together now” Yelena smiled at you.

***

And when Christmas morning rolled around, and Yelena’s family was singing about decking the halls, Yelena wanted nothing more than to deck her family. Yelena pointed a candy cane that she had sharpened to a point in Natasha’s direction as she tried to get Yelena to join them in dancing and…general christmas cheer.

From her kitchen table she could see into your window, and something wasn’t right. No music, no lights, not even the lights on your tree were on, and most importantly, no you.

Yelena was on her feet in seconds, she needed to make sure you were okay.

When she knocked at your door, it took you a few minutes to get there. And when you did appear, you were still wearing your pajamas.

“Are you okay? Where are all your lights? Your family?” Yelena’s voice shook with worry as she spoke.

“Well my parents' flight got grounded, and my brother just called to say that his son has the flu so…it's just me” you tightened your sweater around you as a few flakes of snow began to fall. You looked away as your eyes started to fill with tears. Yelena couldn’t take it, she couldn’t stand to see you upset, and she definitely couldn’t watch you cry. She had to do something.

Yelena leaned into you, and did something she had been wanting to do for a long time. She kissed you, and suddenly it didn’t matter that you loved Christmas and she didn’t, because she loved you.

“You know…You’re a cute one Miss Grinch” You smiled when you pulled away, holding Yelena close to you as snowflakes started to settle on both your cheeks.

"Hey, where is my Christmas kiss?" Alexei poked his head out of Yelena’s front door, waving in the direction of the two of you. You laughed as Yelena put her head in her hands, shaking her head.

“Wanna come join… that mess?” Yelena smiled at you.

“I would love to”

#yelena belova x reader #yelena belova imagine

153 notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

This one's gonna take two asks, I'm incapable of making it more succinct. In Accurate description NHS said "I’m taking you back with me to the Nie sect when all this is over. If your parents want you back, they can come ask nicely.” Could we get that AU? And the Jiangs HAVE to ask nicely, because with the war on the horizon they can't risk alienating the Nies, but they are so bad at it? NHS's half assed plan to poach JC gets more and more solid the longer he has to watch this train wreck.(1/2)

How hard can it be to love your own flesh and blood? Even NMJ has stopped admonishing him for wanting to poach another sect's heir. What a political nightmare that would be. But JC is so relaxed with NHS's birds? And keeping up longer and longer when training with da-ge? And smiling more? And JYL said, she's never seen him so loose in the shoulders? NHS can make this work. JFM and YZY never valued JC anyway

Part 2 of Accurate Description (necessary to read that first)

“Absolutely not,” was the first thing Nie Huaisang’s brother said when Nie Huaisang first raised the idea of kidnapping Jiang Cheng for his own good. “Absolutely fucking not.”

“Nie sect principle three,” Nie Huaisang said.

“Well, shit,” his brother said.

This was because Nie Huaisang’s brother is the best.

“I’ve gotten other people involved in this,” Nie Huaisang added helpfully.

“You’d better have,” his brother said. “I am not dealing with the fallout from this on my own.”

Nie Huaisang nodded happily. That was about what he’d expected.

A few moments later, his brother asked, “Why are we kidnapping him, anyway?”

“This is temporary,” Nie Mingjue said gruffly.

“Very temporary,” Jiang Cheng agreed, sounding stiff and awkward. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“You know exactly why you’re here,” Nie Huaisang objected. “I told you why!”

Jiang Cheng gave him a dirty look.

“Also I have no idea how da-ge got you here, but you’re staying,” Nie Huaisang said firmly. “For as long as it takes for your parents to show that they deserve you returning to them. You’re not getting a choice.”

Jiang Cheng’s face was turning red.

“That’s not the deal, Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue interjected. “Jiang Wanyin can return home at any time he wishes.”

Nie Huaisang glared, but his brother ignored him.

“He can also stay as long as he wishes,” he said, and this time it was Jiang Cheng’s turn to stare. “If you want others to respect him, you must first pay him the respect he deserves yourself. Now, I have to go, but Jiang Wanyin – know that our home is always open to you.”

He put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it, then ruffled Nie Huaisang’s hair, and left.

Jiang Cheng looked dazed.

Nie Huaisang smirked.

“…you said something about him giving out hugs?”

“Oh yeah,” Nie Huaisang said. “Great hugs.”

“I can’t believe you would betray me like this,” Nie Huaisang whined. “And after all I’ve done for you!”

“A little training’s not going to kill you,” Jiang Cheng said. “Come on already.”

“My brother put you up to this, didn’t he? You sold me out for a hug.”

“I sold you out for the opportunity to go on a proper night-hunt,” Jiang Cheng said. “Also, he said he was proud of the progress I’ve been making on my cultivation and sword training since I got here. And gave me a hug.”

Nie Huaisang grumbled but conceded that his brother was especially difficult to resist when he was in full big brother mode. If he wasn’t, Nie Huaisang wouldn’t have been nearly so willing to give up the neat new sword he’d found in the Xuanwu’s cave and store it down in their saber halls until his brother and Baxia could figure out how to suppress it - he hadn’t even realized it was full of resentful energy at first, and he still thought it was especially aesthetic.

“Besides, if you don’t practice something soon, he’ll come after you himself,” Jiang Cheng said. “Wouldn’t you rather train with me?”

“No. You’re just as crazy as he is.”

Jiang Cheng looked disturbingly complimented.

“I’ll come look at your birds later,” he offered.

“You’d do that anyway,” Nie Huaisang said. “You love my birds.”

Jiang Cheng did, too. Nearly as much as he loved all the feral cats that roamed the walls of the Unclean Realm, every single one of which seemed to have immediately pegged him as a soft touch and come nosing around for treats – Nie Huaisang had never seen Jiang Cheng look so calm and peaceful as when he had a cat under his palm.

It really put into perspective how stressed he looked the rest of the time.

“Oh, all right,” he groaned, and Jiang Cheng beamed. “Just know that I hate you.”

“Same to you, Nie-gongzi,” Jiang Cheng said, completely insincere. “Same to you.”

“You know, I’m surprised my parents haven’t shown up to demand me back yet,” Jiang Cheng said over lunch one day. “It’s not – it’s not a problem. It’s only – I thought – Mother at least –”

“Oh, they’re demanding all right,” Nie Huaisang sniggered.

“…Nie Huaisang, what have you done,” Jiang Cheng said.

“Conspired, that’s what,” Nie Mingjue said. “I don’t know if I should thank you for discovering my brother’s sole talent, namely for scheming and conspiracies, or to blame you for it, Wanyin – but you do have very loyal friends.”

Jiang Cheng blinked.

“Well, first your parents went to Lanling,” Nie Huaisang explained. “On account of Jin Zixuan and Mianmian very obviously sneaking food around and buying all sorts of things that you would like before smuggling them – very poorly and obviously, mind you – into Jinlin Tower, and of course they were also overheard talking about something that sounded an awful lot like ‘Wanyin’; everyone assumed they were hiding you. Turns out they weren’t, of course; it was just a stray dog they’d named something with similar tones. Not their fault everyone got the wrong idea!”

Jiang Cheng’s eye twitched.

“And then, of course, they went to Gusu, on account of Lan Wangji telling everyone you were his sworn brother –”

“His what?!”

“Well, close enough. On account of how you saved his life.”

“I did not!”

“I thought I heard something about how you carried him on your back as you fled from the Xuanwu’s cave and the Wen sect’s ambushes, when he was exhausted and could not walk,” Nie Mingjue said mildly, and Jiang Cheng spluttered. “Had I heard wrongly?”

“…well, no…but...”

“Of course, you weren’t at Gusu,” Nie Huaisang continued, ignoring them both. “Though there were some heavy implications for a little while that you’d gone off with Lan-gongzi –”

“Isn’t he missing?”

Nie Mingjue coughed and looked down at his plate.

“And none of you said anything?” Jiang Cheng asked, looking between them. “At any point? Did you just, what, not talk to them?”

“I have spoken with your parents several times since they have started looking for you,” Nie Mingjue said, and his voice was suddenly hot with roiling anger. “I have concluded that Huaisang had a point regarding the necessity of their learning how to ask for your return.”

Jiang Cheng blinked.

“Your parents are jerks,” Nie Huaisang volunteered. “And you deserve better.”

“Yes, thank you,” Jiang Cheng said, a little strangled. “I think I – got that.”

“Good.”

“It’s just, my jiejie –”

“Supports you being here. She sent you a care package. It’s in your room.”

“…Wei Wuxian –”

“Sent a note along with the package. Says to keep up the good work.”

“How did you even get something like that?!”

“I have my ways.”

Nie Huaisang was staring blankly at the wall when Jiang Cheng walked in and did a double take.

“Okay,” he said to Nie Mingjue, sitting patiently nearby with a letter in his hands. “You broke him. How?”

“He just discovered that he inadvertently saved a great deal of lives,” Nie Mingjue said. “As did you, by agreeing to come here.”

“I only agreed to come here because you lied and told me it was necessary to help defend my sect,” Jiang Cheng grumbled, clearly not meaning it.

Nie Huaisang let out a high-pitched and somewhat hysterical giggle.

“It was,” Nie MIngjue said solemnly, offering him the letter. “It appears that Wen Chao was given permission to attack and crush the Jiang sect, but has been delaying in anticipation of your return on account of wanting to deal with all of you at once. The delay allowed our spies time to discover his plans, and to carry warnings to your parents. They were thus able to fortify the Lotus Pier’s defenses against invasion, and to hold it off until aid could arrive – which they wouldn’t have managed if he’d attacked at once, as he would have if you’d been there.”

Jiang Cheng stared.

“Would you like to sit down and stare at the wall?” Nie Mingjue offered kindly.

“…yes please.”

“How’d you convince him to let me come here, anyway?” Jiang Cheng asked Nie Huaisang as he packed up his things. He was finally heading back to the Lotus Pier, albeit only long enough to collect soldiers and come back to join what they’d started calling the Sunshot Campaign – his parents had finally figured out where he was and sent word that had, in the view of the Nie, just barely qualified as sufficient to get some leeway.

Lan Wangji was waiting in the hallway to escort him there, and he’d sworn to Nie Huaisang that he would not allow either of Jiang Cheng’s parents to say anything untoward while they were there. He’d looked very serious while he said it, too, which pleased Nie Huaisang to no end and made Jiang Cheng look more than a bit nervous.

“You’re only asking that now?” Nie Huaisang asked, amused.

Jiang Cheng shrugged. “You going to tell me or not?”

“It was easy,” he said. “I just invoked Nie sect principle three.”

“…what’s that?”

“‘A fire burns all the same’,” Nie Huaisang said. “Variously interpreted as: ‘Treat your neighbor’s harm as your own’, ‘Do not stand idly by as your neighbor bleeds’, or ‘Indifference to evil is equivalent to evil’.”

Jiang Cheng stared.

“How about ‘if you see someone who needs you, you have an obligation to act’?”

Jiang Cheng blinked. “Okay,” he said. “And?”

“And what?”

“And what else did you say? You convinced him to literally kidnap the heir of another Great Sect; I can’t believe that you accomplished that simply by saying ‘hey principle three applies here, let’s do this’.”

“Maybe I did,” Nie Huaisang sniffed.

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “Fine, keep your secrets. I’ll get them out of you one day.”

“Maybe you will,” Nie Huaisang said.

“Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said. “If I wanted to keep Jiang Cheng permanently, what principle would I have to invoke for that?”

“Nineteen.”

“Nineteen?” Nie Huaisang frowned. “But, da-ge, principle nineteen is the one about marriage – oooooooh.”

#mdzs #nie huaisang #jiang cheng #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #accurate description #wolveshowlatnight

286 notes · View notes

youvebeenlivingfictional · 3 years

Text

Odd Hours//Getting Even

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader Rating: T Warnings: Cursing; Fluff; slow burn but not nearly as slow as my usual slow burns. Notes: This is uh... I don’t know, I’ve had the idea kicking around in my head for a while. Also please excuse the film trivia. I will take any excuse to talk about The Man Who Came to Dinner. I couldn’t decide on which title would suit better so I named it both. Not beta-read. Summary: You’d never spoken to the your new neighbor before, just traded friendly waves… At the oddest times.

Your new neighbor looked very put together all of the time. Well… The couple of times that you’d seen him in passing. He was always in a suit, his tie was always straight, and his hair was always coiffed so neatly. You just assumed that he looked that good all the time. You’d seen him with a beard once, and then the next time you’d seen him, he was clean-shaven. He was gorgeous both ways, but that beard… Fuck, it had looked good. You’d never spoken to the guy before, just traded friendly waves… At the oddest times.

-- The first time you spoke to him was evidence of that. It was almost three in the morning. You’d just gotten off of work at one of your jobs at a bar. You stifled a yawn as you stepped off of the elevator and fished into your pocket for your keys. You managed to dislodge something on your way, but you didn’t notice. At least, not until you heard: “You dropped this.” You turned to see your neighbor holding out the foldable reusable bag you tended to keep in your pocket. “Oh!” You reached out, smiling, “Thank you-- I didn’t even notice.” “Sure,” He nodded, “We haven’t met, I’m in 5B.” “5A,” You jerked your thumb over your shoulder to your door. “Marcus Pike,” He held his hand out to you, and you shook it, giving him your name. “Long night?” You asked, and he chuckled, nodding. “Very.” The two of you linger for a moment longer before you nod over your shoulder, “I’ve got a couple of hungry cats to get to, so.” “Right,” Marcus nodded. “Nice to meet you.” “You, too.” You ducked into your apartment, shutting and locking the door behind yourself. You flicked the living room light on and tossed your keys into the bowl beside the door. You stepped further inside, smiling at the sight of your two Siamese cats, Princess and Pyewacket. They lifted their heads from where they were both lounging on the couch. “I met our neighbor,” You told them. Pyewacket got up, stretching before jumping off of the couch and following you into the kitchen. “Yes, he seemed very nice,” You answered the cat’s unasked question as you reached down, scratching his chin above the black moon and star patterned collar he had on. Princess slinked into the kitchen behind him, a matching pink collar around her neck. “And hello to you, too,” You murmured, “Let’s get you fed.” -- The next run-in was almost two weeks later. It was nearly noon, and you were coming off of your other job at a bookstore nearby. You ran into Marcus as he was leaving his apartment, and your brows rose. “Hi there,” he greeted, smiling. “Hey,” You shift your bag on your shoulder as you twirl your keys around your finger. “How are the cats?” You laughed a little, nodding, “They’re good. I won’t say they were happy to see me, but I fed them, so they tolerated my existence for another day.” You eyed his pristine-as-usual-suit. “Heading to work?” “Yeah, just came off of a late night. I actually just kinda...Came back to shower and change,” He absently swept his hand over his tie. “Oh, yikes,” Your brow furrowed, “What do you do?” “I work for the FBI, International Art Theft.” Your brows rose. “Wow.” “Surprised?”

“A little,” You admitted as you walked to your door, “I had my money on your being a lawyer.”

“Really?”

You lean back against your door, waving at him, “It was the suits.”

He chuckled, “I should get going-- as long as you don’t have any stolen art in there.”

“If I did, I wouldn’t tell you, now would I?” You teased, shooting him a wink, “Have a good day, Agent, and uh-- try to get some sleep at some point.”

It wasn’t every day that you got a knock on your door at two in the morning. Your hackles were immediately up, and you were quiet and careful as you crept toward your door. You peered through the peephole, frowning at the sight of Agent Pike-- And one of your cats. You hurriedly flicked your light on and opened the door. “Is, uh, this one of yours?”

“Pye,” You groaned, reaching out to take Pyewacket out of Marcus’ arms, “I’m sorry-- sometimes he slips out when I come in, and-- He’s such a weirdo, he always waits right out here.” You cuddled him close to your chest, smiling a little as Pyewacket pushed his head up against your chin. “Thank you,” You added, scratching Pye under the chin, “I hope he didn’t bug you.” “No, he was pretty friendly.” Your brows rose. That was rather unlike Pyewacket. “I’ll be honest, I was a little surprised to see you holding him-- Though that was more because, you know.” “It’s like two in the morning?” Marcus asked. You laughed, nodding. “Another late night for you, Agent?” “Slightly,” Marcus admitted before reaching out and scratching Pyewacket under the chin, “But I appreciated the welcoming committee.” You smiled, glancing down at the cat as Marcus’ fingers brushed yours. “Well, I’m glad Pye could be of assistance.” “‘Pye’?” Marcus repeated, leaning in your doorway, “Like the food?” “Oh, no. It’s short for Pyewacket,” You explained, shifting the cat in your arms. “Like in Bell, Book and Candle with uh-- Kim Novak and Jimmy Stewart?” He asked. You blinked up at Marcus in surprise. “Uh… Yeah,” You nodded, and laughed, “Sorry, just-- Most people don’t know that.” “I’m a fan of classic movies. --Who’s this?” Marcus looked down.

You followed his gaze, laughing, “Someone that was feeling left out. That’s Princess,” You smiled. You took a little bit of a step back as Marcus crouched down to pet her. You were suddenly acutely aware that you were in your pajamas and Marcus was still very...very suited. You couldn’t help but grin as he cooed over Princess, though. “I’m not gonna lie, you strike me as a dog guy,” You admitted. “Oh,” Marcus scooped Princess up, cradling her against his chest, “I do like dogs, don’t get me wrong, but my grandmother had a cat-- big fluffy Persian named Chester.” You were quiet for a moment, watching Marcus and Princess before you glanced into your apartment. “Do um--” You hesitated, “Do you wanna come in for a drink or something?” Frankly, standing across from a cute guy as you each held one of your cats had to be the weirdest way you had ever asked a man into your place. But it wound up with you and Marcus on your couch with a beer each having a shockingly nice conversation. You didn’t keep him long - you could tell it had been a long night for him and you didn’t want to keep him late - not to mention you had come off of a shift at the bar and you were pretty tired yourself.

Pike was out of there by 2:45 (though you’d gotten his number in your phone and yours in his by 2:42). Pyewacket trotted after him to the door. Marcus gave him one last scratch under his chin, one last look at you before he murmured, “Goodnight.”

Smitten was not the word you would use. It was what you were, but you wouldn’t admit it. Hell, you barely knew the guy, had only met him a couple of times. But he seemed sweet-- and your cats liked him, that was a good sign.

You tried not to reflect on the fact that that thought made you sound like your Great-Aunt Cecily.

You held off on using Pike’s phone number for about two weeks. Then one night, around 10:30, in the middle of a William Powell marathon on TCM, Pyewacket jumped off of your couch and trotted over to the front door. You frowned, watching him and muttering, “What the fuck, dude?” before you heard the jingling of keys. You smiled when you realized why he’d gotten up - and went out on a limb as you pulled your phone out and texted Pike:

-Either you just got home or the ghosts in the hallway are bothering my cat again

You raised your phone, snapping a quick picture of Pyewacket at the door before sending it off. You glanced down at the lone messages in the chat before you closed it, tossing your phone onto the couch cushion beside you. It didn’t stay there long, though-- it buzzed a moment later.

5B: You’ve got a great alarm cat

5B: Just how often do the ghosts in the hallway bother Pyewacket?

5B: And how many ghosts are we talking?

-Like once a week, they’re very mean to him.

-And at least two ghosts, I’m convinced

You put your phone down, figuring that that would be the end of it. You were wrong. 5B: They bug Princess, too?

-Nope, they don’t dare. No one fucks with Princess

-How’s work?

5B: Busy. -Long day?

5B: Excruciatingly

-Sorry 😞

You winced, resting your head on your hand and considering. Why did you use an emoji? You raised your phone and snapped a picture of Princess where she was curled up on your lap.

-You could take Princess with you next time if it’ll help?

5B: Might take you up on that. I’d prefer not to be fucked with tomorrow

You smiled. -I’ll see what I can do about a leash

5B: Very kind of you

-Anytime

5B: Okay, I don’t wanna be weird, but I feel like almost every time I come in around dinner time, whatever you get or are making smells delicious

You looked down at your phone as it buzzed and chuckled, picking it up from where you’d left it on the counter.

-Not weird. Not to brag but I’m kinda the slow-cooker queen

You glanced at the slow-cooker, and the timer reading fifteen minutes left on the food you were making. It was a large batch - you’d wanted to have enough so that you could bring lunch to work at the bookstore. But there was enough to spare. You hesitated before texting,

-Hungry?

Marcus brought wine, and stayed for three hours. The two of you ate dinner, did the washing up, and wound up on your couch watching It Happened One Night. Conversation flowed over most of it - you’d both seen it several times. The movie gave the two of you the chance to watch and weave in and out of conversation and film trivia without pressure. Pye and Princess curled up on the couch between you like sleepy little chaperones.

By the time he left, the bottle of wine that he’d brought was empty, and he had cat hair all over his pant legs.

“Thanks for dinner,” He turned around to face you as he stopped in the hall.

“Sure,” You leaned in your doorway, tucking your hands into the pockets of your sweatpants.

“I’ll have to have you over sometime, make us even.”

Your stomach flipped at the offer and you nodded, “I’d like that.”

“What’s got you out so late?”

“Work.”

“I’m guessing it’s the bar and not the bookshop?” Marcus asked as he watched you slouch against the wall of the elevator. You smiled a little tiredly. “I see those sharp skills aren’t just reserved for art thieves, Agent Pike.” He chuckled as the two of you stepped off at your floor. “What about you?” You asked. “Grabbed drinks with the team after work. We closed a case.” “Congratulations,” You smiled, “What happened?”

“It’s a slightly long story,” Marcus shrugged, “...Would you like to come in and hear about it?” “Gimme half an hour to shower and feed the babies and I’ll be right over.” -- “...Shit.” “What?” You lifted your head from his shoulder. Considering the last two times Marcus had been to yours, you hadn’t had any reservations about going over to Marcus’ in your comfy clothes. You’d shuffled over in your slippers, and when Marcus had opened the door, you’d held up a bottle of white wine. He’d grinned and told you it would pair well with the grilled cheese he was planning on making for the two of you. Without the cats between you, you and Marcus had settled close together on the couch. As the late night wore into early morning, you’d wound up tucked into his side as you talked. “It’s almost four,” He chuckled, looking away from his watch. “Oh,” You yawned widely, “I should let you get to bed.” “I’m the boss, I can get in a little late.” You smiled, tipping your head up and finding him watching you. “You don’t seem the type to abuse that power,” You teased. “Long as it doesn’t become a habit.” “Mm-mm,” You shook your head a little bit and sat up, “I don’t wanna be a bad influence. I save that for Pye and Princess.” “Can I walk you home?” You laughed and nodded as you and Marcus got up from the couch. You missed the warmth of him as soon as you were up, and you were so tempted to turn back toward him and cuddle into his chest-- if only to warm back up. You chatted a little more on your way to the door, and you tried not to overthink the way Marcus put his hand on your lower back as he opened the door for you. -- “Can you recommend a good book?” You didn’t look away from what you’re shelving, but you couldn’t help the slight flurry of butterflies in your stomach at the question. “That depends on what you’re looking for.” “Oh...Maybe something on classic film.” “That’s gonna be two aisles that way,” You nodded over your shoulder, “Back wall.” “Could you show me?” “You really don’t have anything better to do today, Agent Pike?” You teased. There was a pause before you heard him drifting closer to you. He peered over your shoulder, his breath brushing against the shell of your ear as he murmured, “Well, I was hoping I could take you to lunch, if you’ve got time.” “You trying to even out our meal score?”

You glanced up as he leaned against the shelf beside you and met your eyes. “I’m trying to spend more time with you,” He admitted, “If you’re interested.” You lowered your eyes to the books you were shelving, unable to help the smile that grew on your lips at his bluntness. “I’m interested.”

Lunch ended with plans for Marcus to come over after your shift at the bar the following night. He dropped you back off at the bookstore and left you with a kiss on the corner of your mouth that you thought about for the rest of your shift. --

TCM was airing a Bette Davis marathon. By the time you got home, it was nearly 10:30. You showered, neatened up the apartment, cleaned as much cat hair off of the couch as you possibly could, and told Princess and Pyewacket to behave themselves. Princess blinked at you; Pyewacket flicked his tail. You texted Marcus that he could come over whenever he was ready, and there was a knock on the door ten minutes later. Marcus looked cozy in a way you hadn’t seen before - sweatpants and a t-shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders and strong arms. You stepped back and nodded him in, and grinned as he crouched down, immediately scooping up Pyewacket as he came over. --

“You know, Bette Davis wanted John Barrymore to play Whiteside,” You were cuddled against Marcus’ chest; his arm was curled around your shoulders, fingers skimming along the strap of your tank top, “But he was drinking so heavily he couldn’t remember his lines. They wound up going with Monty Wooley-- he played Whiteside on Broadway, too.” “Really?” Marcus’ question was mumbled against your temple. You nodded a little. “Mhm. Cary Grant was set to play the role at one point, but Davis was so against it that he withdrew.” “Something tells me you like this movie.” You laughed, reaching out and absently picking off a piece of cat hair off of his sweatpants. When you’d disposed of it, you rested your hand on his knee lightly, giving him a chance to shake it off. Marcus just gave your shoulder a squeeze, and you gave his knee one in turn.

The two of you watched The Man Who Came to Dinner and All About Eve. “I’m worried that I’m setting a dangerous precedent for your sleep pattern,” You sighed as the credits rolled. It was almost half past three. “Mm, don’t worry about me,” He murmured, nuzzling into your neck. You closed your eyes, shivering a little bit. “...Do you wanna stay over?” You offered, raising your hand and lightly running your fingers along Marcus’ arm. “I’d like that.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “C’mon,” You urged, patting his thigh and standing. “Should we clean up?” Marcus stood with you, looking at the empty popcorn bowl and discarded cans of beer on the coffee table. “Nah, we can deal with it in the morning,” You took hold of his hand, leading him back to your room. Marcus glanced back toward your cats, to where Princess and Pyewacket were still settled on the couch. “Do the cats sleep with you?” He asked. “Sometimes.” “They gonna be mad if I shut your door?” “They’ll get over it.”

-- It was your alarm that woke you up. You leaned across Marcus, mumbling your ‘sorry’s and shutting it off. Once you did, you leaned back down, resting your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes again. You smiled as his arm curled around your waist. “You need to go?” He mumbled. “No, just-- Forgot I had it set.” “Good.” You smiled, turning your head and nuzzling against his shoulder. “You sleep okay?” “Mhm,” He hummed, sliding his thumb along the hem of your shirt, “You should stay over at mine next time.” “So we’re even?” You blinked up at him as his fingers curled under your jaw, tipping your head up to look at him. “Things aren’t always about getting even,” He smiled sleepily down at you. “What’s it about then?” “...Why’d you ask me to stay over?” You hesitated before you pushed yourself up to lean over him, “I thought you’d look good in my bed. And whaddaya know? I was right.” Marcus laughed, using the arm wrapped around you to draw you against his chest. “You know what I’ve been thinking about?” He asked. “Mm?” “Kissing you.” Heat curls in your stomach, tingling and pleasant. “Something stopping you?” You asked. The hand on your jaw slipped down to rest on the back of your neck. His eyes darted between your eyes and your lips for a few moments before he leaned up, brushing his lips against yours. You felt that spark grow in your stomach, and you dipped your head a little closer, chasing the chaste touch. You shifted, leaning more heavily against him and resting your hand on his chest, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, hooking in his collar. When he pulled you closer and turned, settling you down on your back, you went easily, letting your thighs splay so that he could lay between them. You moaned quietly as your kisses became warmer, more insistent. You wrapped an arm around Marcus’ shoulders, sighing as he slipped a hand under your shirt. And then you heard a yowl at your door. You groaned quietly, dropping your head back as Marcus laughed, resting his forehead against your neck. “I told them to behave,” You whined. “Don't blame them, this is on me. I should’ve kissed you last night,” Marcus murmured against your throat. You shivered, chuckling a little. “I should feed them before they do something rude like continue to yell... or throw up in your shoes.” “Would they do that?” “Oh, god yeah. I love Princess, but she’s an asshole.” --

You reached down, setting Pye’s food dish down for him and scratching him behind the ears as he began to eat. Princess was already halfway through her food. You glanced over at your phone as it buzzed on the counter and grinned when you saw who it was.

❤️5B: How’s unpacking?

-Nearly finished. A couple of boxes left. Pye was sleeping on a stack, so I couldn’t touch it.

❤️5B: No worries, baby. On my way home. Need anything?

-Cat food and popcorn. Humphrey Boggart marathon starts at 8

❤️5B: Takeout?

-Nope, got dinner covered. ❤️5B: You’re my favorite. -Don’t let Pyewacket hear you saying that. ❤️5B: Favorite human.

-Better. Btw some couple moved in across the hall. I think they have a dog?

❤️5B: I’ll make sure Pye doesn’t get out when I come in

Tag list: @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo; @fantasticcopeaglepasta; @paintballkid711

#Marcus Pike x Reader #Marcus Pike x You #Marcus Pike/You #Marcus Pike/Reader #Marcus Pike Imagine #Odd Hours//Getting Even #Tumblr was doing WEIRD formatting things so i'm sorry if anything looks wonky??#Marcus Pike

410 notes · View notes

kermitbread · 3 years

Text

hear me out—no, you will listen to me. sit down there and listen very carefully

I will bestow you a cat returns au... in the form of a list of erratic thoughts I've been having since 10pm last night I think I've gone batshit insane

part one of idk because I have too much going on in my brain to put it in a single list so here part two will be out maybe tomorrow

okay, so we have nene as our lovely protagonist

she thinks of herself as unassuming, just an ordinary girl

her best friend is mei and they're both in the same class together

nene has a crush on this one popular guy at their class but she's too shy to confess (even with mei's constant encouragement)

she doesn't really count on something utterly bizzare to happen to her while walking back home from school

while talking to mei, carrying the shovel she had borrowed from a neighbor to return

she spotted an orange cat run from a convenience store

now what was strange about this was that the cat was carrying a small white box wrapped in a red ribbon in it's mouth

nene questioned this, while mei didn't really see it as a big deal

the cat suddenly began to cross the road, not realizing the huge truck coming it's way

the driver won't be able to see a small cat like him, nene thought

she ran off, surprising mei as she approached the cat, who had froze in place upon seeing the incoming truck

she swung the shovel, scooping up the cat and flinging it to the bushes

she also luckily managed to step aside quickly enough to avoid getting run over by the truck

unfortunately she had dropped the shovel and the truck wheels snapped it's wooden handle into pieces

how was she going to explain that to her neighbor now?

she turned to the cat, and she couldn't believe her eyes

it was standing on its hind legs, dusting itself off like a human would

and it talked. it fucking talked

it thanked her for her kindness, and promised to reward her soon enough before picking the box back up and leaving

she could only sit there, dumbfounded, as mei ran up to her, yelling in concern

she regained her senses though, and continued back home without any more scuffle

"must have been my imagination. I'll just go to bed and forget all about this."

oh you were so wrong nene so so wrong

next thing she knows a parade of cats walking like humans stopped in front of her house

a cat in robes and spectacles introduced her to the supposed king of the cats

they had apparently wanted to thank her for rescuing the king's only son

a very frightening old man—erm, cat, sat in a portable throne, only addressing her through short sentences

and a brown spotted cat declared about the rewards she was going to be having tomorrow

nene didn't know why or how she was acting calm throughout the whole thing

but the next morning was chaos

cattails overgrew in the front of her house, catnip placed in her skirt pocket that attracted a lot of neighborhood cats, and bugs and rats in her locker

what kind of horrific rewards were these?! they were only things cats would enjoy!

even worse, she saw her crush hanging out with another girl, supposedly his girlfriend

as she wallows in her sorrow, the brown spotted cat from last night had visited her at school

she doesn't really pay attention as he tells her if she didn't like their first wave of gifts, she can get married to their prince

yeah. maybe marrying a cat prince would be good. cats had it easy, and she wouldn't have to worry anymore. no one would be bothered by her ever again.

wait.

the brown spotted cat took her mumbling to herself a yes, and before she could even properly tell him her refusal, he had already left

oh great. now she was going to get married to a cat. A fucking cat.

whatever will she do?

a girl's voice spoke to her, although she couldn't see where it was coming from

the voice told her to find the cat bureau, by finding the black cat that would lead her to it

ultimately, upon walking from school, she spots a black cat snoozing on an outdoor cafe's chair

she felt like an idiot, asking a cat, but she did it anyway

"are... you the black cat that I'm supposed to find?"

no answer. it was hopeless, anyway

"ah, what am I doing. you're just a stupid cat anyway. And I'm stupid for even doing this."

but the black cat suddenly meowed at her before she could leave, looking back at her with glowing yellow eyes

and it didn't look like it appreciated her stupid cat comment

it then tilted it's head, signalling her to follow it

nene had to go through literal ups and downs before she reached a quiet, peaceful spot she had never seen before

it looked like a miniature town, nifty looking houses built next to each other circling a fountain with a statue of a giant crow on the center

the black cat she had followed was now sitting on a chair in front of a bigger, white house, reading a newspaper like it was nobody's business

was this the place? she was about to ask when the sun had began to set, and lights began to shine from the houses

it was beautiful until the black cat interrupted

"oh come on, amane. no one wants to see your cheesy light shows."

the lights immediately died out, and before she knew it, the door of the white house opened, warm yellow light shining from the inside

one step. another one.

nene found herself staring down at another identical black cat, only this time... in a white suit?

he was definitely a cat, alright, but he had the proper proportions of a human

he tilted his hat at her, smiling

"welcome to the cat bureau, darling. we've been expecting you."

oh. so much charisma

#hananene #the cat returns #i'll reveal whos who later pls wait ahdjslsndhkdks #im so tired from my schoolwork so im taking a little time off with this #aaaaaaaaaaa

63 notes · View notes

qianinterprises · 3 years

Text

Fated To You

Pairing | Kitsune!Yuta x Human, gn!Reader

Warning(s) | depictions of violence, minor character death, supernatural character, blood, mentions of stabbing, mentions of murder

Synopsis | You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you found the injured fox hiding away in the forest. However, after accepting the fox pup into your life as a new member of your home, you quickly realized that there was more to him than just an adorable fox with an odd number of tails.

Genre: supernatural au, fluff, angst, soulmates au

Author's Notes | I have had quite a longing to write a supernatural character, and, while my favorite supernatural creatures are werewolves (they're majestic amazing creatures, shush), I wanted to do something a little different, thus, Kitsune Yuta was born! This has also been posted on NCTA under the name Tori, so if you see it there, it's me. I really hope you enjoy this piece!

Word Count | 6.5k

Tag List: @treasuretaeil

The moon began to rise over the land, casting grotesque shadows over the forest as your feet moved carefully over roots that protruded from the mossy earth. Your hands held strong to the green flashlight clasped tightly in your fingers, lighting the way through the darkened trees as the sun continued to fade.

It had never been your intention to stay out this late. Fresh air. That’s all you had needed. Air to clear your head and calm you down from the near panic attack you’d thrust yourself into as you thought about all the papers and assignments you’d have to complete within the next few weeks.

It was a lot; juggling a full-time job and part-time university. You’d known it was going to be when you’d decided to finally finish your degree. What you hadn’t anticipated was everything piling up at the end, making you truly stretch yourself to get everything done correctly and on time without losing your job and crumbling under the impending weight of unemployment.

Luckily for you, behind your rented out house, was a forest. You weren’t exactly sure how far it stretched, nor had you ever explored it before, but you had a certain affinity for nature. When you began to lose yourself, you slammed your book shut and got up with a huff, grabbing your unused backpack out of the closet and setting out into the woods, hoping immersing yourself in nature would calm you down.

It had. Walking about, listening to the birds sing and the trees grow had soothed your mind and allowed you to relax for the first time in several weeks. You’d gotten so relaxed that, as you sat against a sturdy oak for water and a snack, you found yourself drifting off.

It was only recently that you had awoken. Your eyes blinked open as the sounds changed and the peaceful chirping birds were replaced with the soft, yet creepy, hoots of owls and the howls of wolves.

You’d never meant to be out there that long, but as you pulled yourself off the ground, you were thankful you were smart enough to have a packed back full of extra water, a few snacks, a rope just in case, a compass, a hunting knife, and a flashlight along with batteries.

As the sun descended, you pulled the flashlight from your backpack and here you were, wandering the woods at dusk, navigating your way back to your house in a forest you’d never been in before.

Perhaps it was the start of a disaster. Or perhaps it was keeping you away from your books for just a little longer.

Whatever the reason, you tried not to panic as you made your way through the woods in a direction you assumed was home but honestly, you were too sure.

You scanned your beaming light over varying trees, looking for the mark you’d left on a particularly girthy oak, a mark that would signal your correct direction and your soon entrance into the backyard of your home.

As your light hit along the trees, searching high and low, it caught the glow of a pair of glassy eyes not three feet from where you stood. With a shriek, you jumped back, stumbling over a tree root and falling back onto your bum, letting out a whine at the pain.

You shined your light back on the spot you’d saw the eyes and found them again, wide, yellow eyes staring back at you in, what you could only assume was fear. Fear that pulled at your heartstrings, because this wasn’t any regular fear of humans. This was absolute terror.

Slowly, you pulled yourself up onto your knees, dusting the dirt off of the bottom of your jeans as you carefully inched forward, careful not to spook the animal which you assumed to be a mistreated cat or an abused dog.

The animal didn’t move, seeming to be frozen in place as you moved closer. It was only when you managed to shift the bush it was hiding in that you realized what it actually was.

A fox. A small, dull orange fox that still resembled a pup. It had greying pointed ears and a dirt covered orange coat. As your eyes trailed over the body of the fox, they landed on the tail, or shall you say, tails! By your count, nine, although you knew that couldn’t be right! It’s tail was likely matted in nine big places! You pushed the question of tails out of your mind and roved over its body, finding surprisingly small paws and a muzzle covered in a crusty red which you quickly realized was blood. That fact alone should have sent you running, but as your eyes scanned it’s body, you quickly realized the source. An opened gash on the foxes side, just above it’s hip, steadily weeped a bright red liquid that would claim the fox’s life if kept untreated.

Your heart broke for the poor animal and you knew you couldn’t simply leave it to die. Carefully, you offered your hand for the fox to sniff and, as soon as he did, he seemed to trust you a little more.

You’d taken several animal science classes while pursuing your degree, and you knew the technical way animals seemed to trust a human just by sniffing them, but you always found yourself fascinated by the way an animal could get to know someone simply by sniffing their palm.

“I can’t leave you out here. You’ll die from your wounds if I do. Would it be alright if you come home with me?” you asked softly.

Part of you felt silly for speaking to a fox that couldn’t understand you, but as the fox nodded to your question, you felt relieved-

Wait… nodded?!

You stared wide eyed as the fox, who apparently could understand you, slowly crept from under the bush, small whimpers leaving it’s throat as it moved its hind legs. It no doubt hurt, especially with the placement of the wound.

“I doubt any animal hospital would be open right now,” you muttered, more to yourself than anything, but the fox froze in place, fear once again in its eyes.

“You don’t want to go to the animal hospital, do you?” you asked.

The fox shook his head-- you were really going to have to get used to that.

Sighing to yourself, you reached a hand out to gently stroke the orange fur, something the fox stiffened at before all together relaxing in your touch.

That was all it took for you to know you couldn’t let anything happen to this gentle fox.

“Can I pick you up?” you asked. “It may help get you back home with minimal bleeding.”

The fox seemed to pause, as if pondering and you were beginning to odd just how strange this fox truly was. Not like any other wild animal you’d ever happened upon, which, in turn, led you to believe that this was not just another wild animal.

The fox moved closer to you and touched its nose lightly to your hand. You took this as the ‘go-ahead’ and, very gently, you lifted to fox pup up into your arms.

It whimpered slightly, but as you pressed it’s wounded side purposely against your torso to still the bleeding, it relaxed in your arms.

You didn’t know how you were going to get him home. You weren’t even a hundred percent sure where home was, but as you shined your flashlight carefully clenched between your teeth, your eyes landed on the jagged ‘X’ you’d etched into the pine.

With a breath of hope, you moved toward the mark and within a few paces, you were standing in the yard of your house.

Carrying the fox through the yard was made easier by the darkness. You flicked off your flashlight, relying on memory so as not to draw your neighbor’s attention to yourself or the orange mass in your arms. When you finally made it to the front door, you opened the latch and let yourself into your messy living room covered in stay books and disposable coffee cups you hadn’t yet gotten rid of.

You latched the door behind you carefully and carried the fox going scarily limp in your arms through the house and into the bathroom.

“Don’t go to sleep, please,” you begged the droopy-eyed fox as you placed it in the bathtub.

It seemed to struggle to stand and you knew you had to work fast. Helping it lay down surrounded by the porcelain walls, you moved to the sing, ripping open the medicine cabinets and began rifling through everything you had, which wasn’t too much. You may have been training to be a veterinarian, but that didn’t mean you were already practicing.

Luckily, after shuffling around, you managed to find basic rubbing alcohol and peroxide along with several large bandages, gauze, and, the best find yet, suture thread with a needle.

Pulling on a pair of gloves you usually used to dye your hair, you turned back to the tub with your utensils only to find the fox had drifted off to sleep, pants leaving its mouth. It didn’t have much time left and you’d be damned if you let it die in your house.

Grabbing a towel and a pair of scissors, you knelt by the tub. With the scissors, you hastily cut away the fur surrounding the wound, getting yourself a better image of the wound itself while also making it easier to clean.

Once the wound was exposed, you didn’t know whether you were relieved or panicked, staring at the long gash clearly having been made from a sharp knife. This was no animal fight as you’d first thought. This was intentional and likely had been done by a human. No wonder it had been so scared, yet it begged the question, why had it trusted you?

You pressed a towel to the still weeping wound, pressing down hard to still the bleeding. Once it was mostly halted, you poured peroxide on the wound, flushing out any dirt and grime before washing it with rubbing alcohol that surely would have hurt like hell had the animal been conscious.

With the wound cleaned, you sterilized the suture kit with the rubbing alcohol and threaded your needle. You’d done suture’s before, but only on test dummies. Having a real patient had your stomach twisting in knots, but you didn’t have time to worry about it.

Bringing the needle to the skin, you began to stitch up the now cleaned wound, careful not to injure the fox further. The stitches weren’t pretty by the time you’d finished. A professional could have done a much better job, but at least the wound was closed. You placed a bandage over the wound before wrapping the gauze carefully around the fox’s waist, keeping it loose enough it didn’t constrict him, but tight enough to keep pressure on the wound.

Time was still sensitive. You very well may not have gotten to it before it lost too much blood and you had no way of administering a transfusion. It was solely up to the fox now whether it lived or died.

As it slept in the tub, you ran your fingers through it’s fur, too scared to leave it alone. As you stroked around the foxes neck, your fingers gazed over metal beads buried deep in the fur. Curiosity got the better of you and carefully, you pulled at the beads until you unveiled a dark metal necklace that resembled a collar only slightly.

Inquisitively, you trailed your fingers along the beaded necklace of a collar until you gripped the base, the end that hung down at the fox’s chest. It was then that you saw it.

Resting at the base of the necklace was a dog tag with only one marking. A marking that spelled out a name.

Yuta.

As you ran the tag over in your hands, careful to not disturb the fox, you found no address or number to call. There was nothing to give you any information about who this pup belonged to. However, you supposed, whoever it was wasn’t a very good owner if the knife wound were anything to go by.

Letting the necklace drop from your hold, you ran your hands over the fox’s head.

“Yuta,” you mumbled to yourself.

The name had a nice ring. A name that seemed to roll off your tongue as though your tongue was meant to speak it. And perhaps that holds true as the moment the last syllable left your throat, the fox was stirring, shifting as it-he slowly regained consciousness until his yellow eyes met yours.

Something seemed to stir inside you at that moment and you found yourself reaching out to touch the animal again, a touch the fox shifted into, nuzzling against your hand as if he wholly trusted you. You didn’t really know why the fox would trust you, but your heart beamed with joy. A joy that you knew meant you wouldn’t be letting this fox run back out into the wild unless it’s something he truly wanted, but you could already tell, the fox was going nowhere.

That statement seemed to hold true as the next few days passed and Yuta was finally able to walk around a bit more. He tired easily and had a bit of a limp, but he’d managed to walk from one room to another easy enough before giving you a look that begged you to pick him up. Even now, as you sat on the living room couch, laptop perched on your thighs, surrounded by mountains of resource material books, Yuta made his way from napping in the bedroom to where you sat.

You didn’t notice him at first, too caught up in your work that you were slightly unaware of your surroundings, but as he pressed his cold nose against your exposed ankle, you took in a sharp breath, eyes glancing down at the mischievous fox who had learned just how to get his way.

“What do you want?” you asked.

It had become normal for you to ask him questions you’d ask a human. The fox seemed more and more human every day, which made him likely the most intelligent animal you’d ever encountered. He truly was one of a kind.

‘Pick me up.’

A masculine voice suddenly permeated your made, making you yelp out at the suddenness of it all, head shaking as you dropped your computer onto the ground, hand coming up to hit lightly against your head.

That was a voice you’d never heard before and most definitely was not your consciousness.

‘Calm down human, it’s only me.’

The voice spoke again, eliciting yet another yelp from your lips as you looked around. There was no one in your house save for yourself and Yuta. No windows or doors were left open and, unless someone was hiding in your closet and speaking, there was no one around. The voice itself was too vivid, too clear to be heard through your ears anyways which ultimately lead you to the conclusion that the voice was in your head, although that didn’t make anything better.

“I’ve finally gone crazy!” you murmured to yourself, eyes wide with worry and fear. “I’m hearing voices! It’s only a matter of time before they lock me up!”

‘(y/n), calm down! It’s only me! Yuta!’

“What?!” you screeched.

You didn’t bother looking down at the fox on the floor. There was absolutely no possible way the voice in your mind was the voice of an injured fox named Yuta who’d come to live with you a few days ago! There was no possible way! You were just-

‘Would you stop saying you're crazy before you really upset me!’

“Leave me alone!” you squealed.

You jumped up off the couch when suddenly, a rush of tranquility washed over you, ebbing the panic away as the masculine voice was once again in your mind, this time, in a much gentler tone.

‘Calm down before you hurt yourself. Look down at me on the floor. Look into my eyes and you’ll understand.’

You don’t know whether it was the sudden sense of calm that had you keeping cool, curiosity, or sheer trust that had you lowering your gaze to the floor where they met Yuta’s yellow ones. As soon as your eyes locked on his, a rush of comforting heat surged through your body, spreading from your eyes down to your toes while washing over your brain. Your knees buckled and your body crashed against the couch as thoughts and memories surged through you, eventually knocking you unconscious, head lulling against the couch cushions.

Two Hundred Years Earlier

When you opened your eyes, your living room was nowhere in sight. Instead, you were standing in a deep, open space painted a galaxy shade of purple. Beside you was a handsome man with long, dark hair that touched his shoulders. He had a lean face and boxy jaw leading to a square chin that only added to his handsomeness. His shoulders were broad but he wasn’t all that muscular, rather, he was lean. A grey shirt wrapped around his frame, long black shorts flowed to a stop below his knees.

“Who are you?” your voice cracked.

“I am Yuta,” said the man, the voice the same one you’d heard in your mind earlier.

“W-what- How-...?” you couldn’t seem to conjugate the words properly.

“I wasn’t going to tell you until later. But I am Yuta, and the fox version of myself… well that’s technically my natural form. While injured, I take that form,” he explained.

You still couldn’t quite wrap your head around it. This Yuta was your Yuta… Your Yuta had a human form… Your Yuta… the fox you’d been sharing your bed with… had a human form…

“Easy now, I’m not sure what happens if you pass out when you're not awake!” the man said, hands grabbing your shoulders to still your wobbling form.

“But how-- I…”

“I’m going to show you,” he spoke softly.

With that, he snapped his fingers and the purple room evaporated from sight. You let out a small screech as it was replaced with air rushing around your face as your bodies hurtled straight from the sky into a forest you’d never seen before. A forest that certainly wasn’t in your backyard.

You touched ground without so much of a wince, your feet settling gently on the plush, mossy earth.

“You’ll get used to that,” Yuta promised as he clasped an arm around your waist to hold your quivering body steady.

“W-where are we…”

“Japan. 200 years in the past.”

“WHAT?! But-”

You trailed off as your eyes caught sight of a beautiful fox with nine tails flowing proudly from her backside strode up in front of your prying eyes, a young fox pup not too far behind, accompanied by his father who kept nudging at the pups hindquarters playfully, earning small little yips from the pup.

“They’re so adorable! Who are they?!”

Yuta didn’t answer for a long moment and when you looked at his face, you caught the fading wisps of a painful memory.

“The pup is me…” he spoke. “And my parents.”

You were about to open your mouth to ask about them when there was a rustle in the trees and a group of six men appeared, each one looking meaner than the next.

Yuta’s father turned away from the pup, who was drawn closer by his mother, as his father approached the men.

“Do you wish to honor our son?” you could hear the father ask although you knew he wasn’t physically speaking.

“Freak!! Unnatural piece of nature!!” screamed one of the men, drawing his sword.

“Hey! Show some respect!” you wailed, fist clenched as you glared at the man who seemed to not even notice you.

Yuta’s arm tugged on your waist, pulling you against his side.

“This is a memory… My memory… There’s nothing we can do or say that will change the past…” he whispered.

“You don’t want to do that!” Yuta’s father exclaimed. “We are kitsunes! We are luck and fortune!”

“Freak!!” the man squealed, swinging his sword at Yuta’s father, who turned to flee from the men, ready to protect his family with his power when another man slashed a sword at the fox’s backside, slashing through all nine tails.

You let out a squeak, hands coming to cover your mouth as a pained cry left the fox’s mouth moments before his body hit the ground and life left his body. You could see the spirit of the fox lifting, rising into the trees, where it would rest as a ghost, keeping watch on it’s family.

The men howled with glee and charged over the fox’s body, trampling it as they made their way for the mother and her pup.

The blaze of a campfire suddenly sparked from the place Yuta’s mother was planning on cooking dinner. A ball of fire lunged at the men, who dodged, and the fire only made them angrier.

The female, just as strong as her husband, held the men at bay with a wall of fire, managing to severely burn four of the six men before the kindling in the fire had died and all was left was embers. She could bend fire, but not without a fire.

“Looks like you’re all out of ideas,” one man, the man who’d killed his father chuckled.

The pup whimpered and burrowed itself in his mothers side, not quite old enough to possess all the powers of his parents.

Frantically, the female fox turned to the pup and, without hesitating, bit down onto its scruff. The pup cried out at the sudden jostle, but his mother did nothing but squeeze tighter. With her pup held close, she leaped over the fallen men and darted into the forest, putting as much distance between herself and the men as she could.

The air around you and Yuta rustled past your faces and suddenly, without moving your feet, your bodies were standing beside a fox and her pup who were now both panting, far from the men that would come searching for them.

“Yuta, listen to me child. The humans are turning on us, but you mustn’t let that stop you from being yourself, from being a true and great kitsune!” the fox’s voice permeated your mind. “The humans will hurt you, try to kill you as it has been prophesied, but you mustn’t let their ways sway you from your duties.”

“Mom!” the fox cried.

He could tell, even at such a tender age, what his mother was about to do.

“You will find your soulmate, who will be human, and you must make the human understand who and what you are. They must understand where you come from. And, if they accept you, bonds between man and fox will be restored once more!”

Her voice was urgent as the sounds of the men tracking them grew louder. Your heart hammered in your chest. You knew what was going to happen, but your heart wept at the fate of the family torn apart. Yuta’s arm around your waist fastened to you tighter, although you weren’t sure if he was holding you or himself together.

You don’t know what spurred you to move, but you turned toward him slightly, enough to unpin your arm from your side, and wrapped both of your arms around his middle, hugging him tightly as together, you watched his mother kiss her pups head softly before dashing off toward the men.

There were yells along with a high pitched whimper before her spirit rose into the air to join her mates, leaving the young pup all alone.

You buried your face in Yuta’s shoulder, squeezing him tighter as a few tears slipped from your eyes, dropping onto his shirt. You’d only witnessed a memory. Yuta had been there. You couldn’t imagine the pain he felt the day both of his parents were killed by greedy, uneducated humans.

Present Day

You stood there, embracing Yuta for what seemed like hours before the air was shifting around you again and, by this time, you knew what that meant.

When the air stopped and you opened your eyes, pulling your face from Yuta’s neck, you were standing against the wall of a small little shop that resembled what you would have imagined to be an apothecary’s shop. White-wicked candles burned around the tiny, clutter-filled room, casting a smoky glow around the shop, surrounding the shelved knick-knacks and bottles of liquid medicine. Inside the shop, sitting behind a desk stacked with papers, was a middle-aged man with snow white hair and tan, wrinkled skin, so many wrinkles it looked as though he were shedding. The bags under his eyes were drooping low on his face, making his entire face seem to sag.

“Who is he?” you asked.

“His name’s Mr. Huang.”

Yuta seemed to know that that didn’t answer your question, but you didn’t have time to inquire further before the door to the shop was opening and Yuta, your Yuta, walked in, dressed the exact same as he was now.

This must have been recent…

“Good afternoon, Mr. Huang,” Yuta greeted, giving him a respectful bow.

“What do you want, boy?”

Mr. Huang’s voice was mean and cruel, riddled with an angry snarl as his now beady snake eyes looked up to pierce Yuta’s brown ones.

“Is Mrs. Huang nearby? I had a few more questions about the prophecy regarding my soulmate,” Yuta said, seemingly unfazed by the man's harsh tone.

The question only seemed to make Mr. Huang angrier as stood up with, slamming his hands down on the desk.

“Mrs. Huang died this morning,” he snarled.

Yuta’s face dropped, skin growing pale as the man stalked toward him.

“You promised us she wouldn’t die!” the man hissed, slowly approaching Yuta.

Yuta backed up slowly, his eyes racing around the room, looking for something he could use for leverage when his eyes landed on an envelope with his name scrawled onto it.

Discreetly, he picked up the envelope and slid it into his back pocket.

“Mr. Huang, I did everything that I could do. I promised you’d I’d do my best to heal her! But she had lung cancer! I gave her as much life as I could!” Yuta said.

“That’s not good enough!” Mr. Huang yelled.

He reached into his back pocket and produced a long knife with a jagged edge. You gasped loudly as the man lunged at Yuta. Yuta, carefully dodged the first and the second jab, but by the third, his back was pressed against a wall. Mr. Huang stabbed the knife into Yuta’s side, right above his hip. Yuta cried out on pain, clutching his side.

“Let’s see how you fare against pure silver!” Mr. Huang snarled.

Silver wouldn’t kill him, but it would slow his healing way down. His body could be unable to atone for the wound. That coupled with his young form without having a soulmate to help him heal faster would prohibit him from healing much faster than a normal human.

With the blade still lodged in his side, Yuta shoved past the man and bolted for the door, running straight into the forest, careful not to be seen by any other human.

You followed this Yuta’s movements, your Yuta holding close to you as together, you watched this Yuta drop to his knees and pull the blade from his side, crying out at the pain before dropping it.

The boy cried out as he clutched his side in pain, slowing the bleeding as much as he could before leaning himself against a tree, the same tree near the bush where you’d found him.

His body began to shake with the weight of blood loss and you wanted to run to him, but your Yuta held you back.

“It gets better,” he whispered in your ear.

You didn’t like it. You hated watching the man die, but there was nothing you could do. This may be happening in front of you, but it had already happened in the past.

With shaky fingers, Yuta used his free hand to dig the now wrinkled envelope out of his pocket, specks of blood dotting the starch white.

He opened the envelope with that one hand and pulled out the letter inside. Somehow, you managed to see the letter from here.

Yuta,

If you can find it in your heart to forgive my husband for what he has done, please do. I know that he can have a temper, and he isn’t the best when it comes to dealing with his emotions, but he means well, usually anyways. I have no doubt that he has tried (if not succeeded) to commit bodily harm after my passing. He will likely be unable to handle himself after my death.

The truth is, I’ve always known there was nothing you could do about my condition. Guess that comes with the territory of being an old witch. You know when you’re going to die. But don’t worry, sweetheart, today is not your time. You still have that soulmate of yours to meet.

Your mother was right about the prophecy. I do apologize that I could not speak of it with you. The fact is, my husband is one of those humans that will be swayed when you meet your soulmate, and as such, I couldn’t have you or him finding too much information out. The future is tricky like that.

I just thought you should know, dear boy, that your soulmate will appear to you soon. I cannot say when. Yes, I know, but again, the future can be a tricky thing. When they do show up, they won’t hesitate to show you compassion and kindness. You will also find yourself drawn to their gentle soul. And they will be drawn to you, although they will not be able to explain. Go easy on them, hun. They are human after all. Humans are not as good at understanding things like this as you and I are. Be gentle. Ease them into it.

While all of this is nice, I do also have to give you a warning. When your soulmate is revealed to you, you will know almost immediately. However, it may take them a bit, especially if you aren’t as a human. Be patient. However, if all else fails, show them this letter. I will write your soulmate's name at the bottom. The future will allow that.

My second warning is to tell them your past. The burden is not yours to bear alone. Prophecy says that when you meet your human soulmate, humans will stop trying to kill you and those like you. Conspiracy says this is because they will understand who you are and what you are set on this earth to do. Unfortunately, this is not the case.

The gods have seen what terrible things humans can do, and it has swayed their opinions (for the better in my opinion). Rather than revealing your purpose to the humans, only a varying few will know the truth, your soulmate being one of them. The memories of Kitsune’s and other supernatural creatures will be erased from the minds of most humans, so you must be careful with this new chance in life. You must hide your identity as a Kitsune from everyone except family.

Now Yuta, I want you to know that these last two years have meant the world to me. I love you my dear boy and I will always be watching over you along with your parents.

Find your soulmate, and love them as hard and as deeply as you can.

Love,

Mrs. Huang

Ps: your soulmate's name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Treat them well.

Your eyes widened at the last note of the letter before Yuta folded it up and put it back in his pocket.

“(Y-Y/N)... but… that’s my name…” you muttered.

The man beside you didn’t utter a word as the Yuta you were watching suddenly began to quiver even harder than he already was and, within a few seconds, in his place was the same fox pup you’d rescued a few days ago.

“Wait… so… the pup… you really are the pup!” you exclaimed.

Yuta turned to stare at you, eyebrow raised.

“Tell me you didn’t just get that.”

You didn’t say anything back, instead trained your eyes back on the pup who was crawling under the bush to hide. Time suddenly began to speed up and within a few moments, you saw yourself kneeling in front of the bush in the dark, peering at the fox.

“So I… I was meant to find you… We’re connected…”

Yuta nodded.

“You’re my soulmate, and I am yours.”

You didn’t say anything. Your voice felt like it was locked in your throat as a rush of air once again brushed past your face, taking you somewhere new, although you weren’t sure what else was left to see.

“The future is a tricky thing,” Yuta’s voice whispered as the world became a blur of shapes and colors as you were taken to someplace new to see more sights that would expand your outlook on life itself.

Undetermined time in the future

The wind stopped brushing past your cheek and you stood in front of a small, cozy house with a broad backyard and a large forest filled with thick trees, perfect for running. You saw yourself, or rather, an older version of yourself, sitting on a pink and purple throw blanket in the middle of the backyard. Beside you sat a brown picnic basket waiting to be opened and a vacant seat on the other side of the blanket. The older you smiled softly as the clouds in the sky parted and a beam of sunlight shone down, warming your body naturally.

Older you looked far too happy to be on that picnic alone, so your eyes scanned the valley for someone you hoped was there.

“I haven’t seen this yet either,” Yuta whispered.

He brought his arm back around your waist, keeping you fixed to his side, not that you were complaining. Somehow, it felt you belonged at his side.

As your eyes scanned the yard, you almost missed the two bodies emerging from the forest. One was the body of a tall man, a body you immediately recognized to be Yuta’s. The other was a much smaller body, the body of a young girl whom you couldn’t see all that clearly.

Yuta’s breath hitched and you turned to look at him.

“Do you know her?”

He shook his head, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the two as they approached the picnic blanket where the older you waited, waving your hand to the two with a bright grin on your face.

Yuta’s reaction to the girl had you pausing to take a closer look at him, waiting for him to tell you who this young girl was. When he seemingly noticed you staring, he turned to look at you.

“I honestly don’t know her. But she has been prophesied many times,” he spoke, voice shaking with emotion.

“She wasn’t in the prophecy I heard,” you conjured.

Yuta shook his head, a smile breaking out across his face.

“There’s not just one prophecy,” he answered. “There are many, about many different things that allow us a glimpse into our fate, but somehow, they never play out the way you think they will.”

“Can you tell me the other prophecies?”

Yuta turned his attention back to the scene and urged you to do the same, but you caught him nodding to your question as the little girl jumped into your lap, laughing and giggling as you began to tickle her.

“I will tell you all of them,” he promised.

The scene before you was nothing like what you’d seen earlier. There was no blood or death or attempted murder. No sacrifices or ominous warnings. There was nothing but peace and love, and if that was your fate, you were happy with it.

The older Yuta sat down beside you on the picnic blanket and, as the young girl became distracted chasing a butterfly, he dipped a finger under your chin and lifted your face to his.

“I love you, my Flower,” he spoke softly.

“I love you too, my Fox.”

He pressed a soft kiss against your lips, a kiss so soft you felt as though you were prying just by watching, and, although it didn’t last long and your own lips hadn’t felt the gentle touch, you knew there was no kiss quite as sweet as the ones from Yuta.

The backyard disintegrated into an array of pickles before your eyes fluttered open and you were staring at the ceiling of the same rental house you’d spent the last three years.

“Was it all a dream?”

“Yes and no,” a familiar voice spoke next to you.

This time, you didn’t jump at the sound of the voice, although you weren’t sure if it was because it was familiar, or if it was because it wasn’t in your head this time.

Turning your head, you caught the sight of Yuta, standing just as he had been in your dream, wearing clothes that were coated in blood, likely the same ones he’d been wearing when he was stabbed.

“How are you not a fox anymore?” you asked.

He smiled as he knelt down on the couch where you were still sprawled out.

“Your human mind couldn't accept the truth earlier. That’s why you freaked out when I began speaking into your mind, which is something I can only do in fox form,” he added. “When I calmed you down by accessing your nervous system, I realized you were going to have to see the truth, so I knocked you out and took you on the journey with me. You had to live through that one way or another,” he explained.

You didn’t understand, not really anyways, not the full story, at least. What you did understand was 1) Yuta was a kitsune, 2) he had a very dark past, and 3) you were his soulmate and, although you hadn’t known him for very long, you were 100% ok with that.

“Now, do you think you can stay calm long enough for me to do something I was dying to do the entire time?” he asked.

“What?”

“This.”

Without further exchange of words, Yuta’s plump lips were on yours and, for the first time through the whole ordeal, you could feel it. And you knew it wouldn’t take much until you were addicted. Because he was Nakamoto Yuta. Kitsune. And your soulmate.

183 notes · View notes

quickspinner · 3 years

Text

Neighborly

I had a bad case of writers block and rabbit brain trying to work on my wips yesterday, so I went and dug through my prompt lists, sat down with the sprint timer, and scrawled out this little bit of nonsense. I'm not sure about the final result but it broke the block, and I figured I might as well share it, so I hope you enjoy!

AO3

Rating: T

Marinette's been crushing on her cute neighbor for weeks, but she's never gotten the courage to speak more than a few flustered words to him. Now it might be too late--he's at her door begging for the use of her shower to get ready for his big date.

Marinette stared at the man standing at her door.

“I’m sorry?” she said faintly, and the man smiled at her. That didn’t help the situation at all, as it made her knees wobbly.

“Weird ask, I know,” he said, ruffling a hand through his blue-tinted hair. “It’s just that I’m supposed to have a date tonight and my shower’s been out for two days. Maintenance has quit answering my calls and I’m getting desperate. I really like this girl and I don’t want to give the wrong impression.”

“Oh,” Marinette said, voice still weak, and then she plastered a plastic smile on her face. “O-of course you can! What are neighbors for, right? Um—”

“Luka,” he supplied, still smiling. Marinette already knew that, of course. She knew an embarrassing amount of information about this man, considering they had only spoken in passing. The first time, he’d caught her when her shoe had broken in the hallway, and she’d pitched straight into him somehow managing to stop her fall and haul her back upright against him with only one strong arm. He hadn’t even lost the groceries he’d been carrying in the other. He’d smiled at her and told her to be careful with that soft velvet voice and she’d looked up into blue eyes that seemed far too gentle for his handsome, angular face and—

Marinette suddenly realized it was her turn to talk and that she was taking too long. “Um M-Marinette, I’m. I’m Marinette,” she stammered.

“Nice to finally officially meet you Marinette,” Luka said easily, as if she wasn’t the most awkward person he’d ever spoken to, as if she hadn’t run away from him after a few awkward words every time they’d bumped into each other—literally or otherwise. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll pop back over and grab my things, and be back in a few minutes?”

“Oh, um. Y-yeah, yeah, of course,” she babbled, and he turned away, raising a hand slightly.

“Great, I’ll be back in a few then.”

Marinette shut the door numbly, and then walked over to her couch and buried her face in a pillow. She screamed, kicking her feet, and then tossed the pillow away, moaning as she dragged her hands down her face.

It wasn’t enough that the super hot musician with gorgeous shoulders and dreamy eyes was coming over to use her shower. He had to need her shower because he had a date . Marinette wanted to be his date! She’d been half-stalking him trying to work up the courage—well. Not really stalking him, just...observing. She just noticed things, that was all, like how he had a smile and a question for everybody, the way he fed the stray cats that lived behind the building, and always held open doors no matter who was behind him, and how hard his chest was beneath the baggy layers he wore, and—oh, that chest was going to be in her bathroom and—her bathroom!

Marinette’s eyes flew wide and she nearly tripped over her own feet, flinging herself off the couch, running to the bathroom to grab anything too girly or potentially embarrassing and shove it under the sink. Fortunately her bathroom wasn’t dirty (she wasn’t an animal after all), just cluttered, and she frantically grabbed the underthings she’d draped over the shower rod to dry and ran them to her room, shoving them frantically under her pillow before going back to make absolutely sure she hadn’t missed any or left anything embarrassing. She put a clean towel on the rack and threw the dirty one over her arm and triple-checked to make sure there was no hair in the shower drain. She heard the knock on the door and jerked up, banging her head on the faucet of the tub. She yelped, dizzy with the pain for a moment.

“Marinette?” Luka called, as she tried to extract herself from the bathtub with one hand clutched to her scalp. She couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her; that hurt.

“Are you all right?” Luka asked, and Marinette whirled around wide-eyed to find him standing in the bathroom doorway. “I heard you yell and I let myself in, I hope that’s okay. Did you hurt yourself? Are you bleeding?” He dropped the backpack slung over his shoulder onto the floor and came over to her, gently tugging her hand away from her head.

“I don’t think so,” Marinette gritted. “I was just...trying to clean up a bit, and…” She gestured at the faucet and Luka winced in sympathy.

“Ouch,” he muttered as he parted her hair with gentle fingers. He was so nice, Marinette mourned. Although...he did smell like he needed that shower. She held her breath and tried not to make a face. “It looks okay,” he said, stepping back away from her. “You didn’t have to clean for me.”

Marinette gave an embarrassed shrug. “Wouldn’t you?” she asked dryly, and blushed when Luka laughed.

“Probably,” he conceded with a grin. “Thanks. I really didn’t mean to put you to inconvenience.”

“It’s no big deal,” Marinette said, finally mustering a smile. “Besides, how could I leave you in the lurch? Big date and all. I don’t need any more bad karma on my dating life.”

Luka’s eyebrows rose, and Marinette flushed, cursing her stupid mouth that never shut up when it should. “So I’ll, um—” she gestured behind Luka to the door, “get out of here, so you can. You know.”

“Oh, sorry.” Luka moved out of her way, pressing himself against the sink, and Marinette squeezed past him and out of the door. “Thanks again, I really appreciate it.”

“This girl must be something special,” Marinette smiled as she backed into the small hallway. “For you to go to all this trouble instead of rescheduling.”

“She is,” Luka grinned. “She’s amazing. I think so, anyway. I don’t know her very well yet, but she’s awfully sweet and super cute.” The grin on his face turned a little goofy. “I’ve been smitten since I met her, honestly.”

“Oh,” Marinette kept her smile in place, trying to ignore the cold feeling in her stomach. “Oh, that’s really sweet. Um, well I don’t want to make you late, so I’ll just...music! I’ll go turn on some music.” That way she wouldn’t hear the incredibly cute soon-to-be-naked boy in her bathroom. “Um, take your time, let me know if you need anything.”

Luka’s grin widened a little. “Thanks Marinette.” He shut the door, and Marinette marched herself back to the living room to scream into another pillow.

After a few deep breaths and a lot of nervous fumbling, she got her music player running. Jagged Stone should be enough, right? Loud enough to cover—she heard the curtain rings slide across the rod. The shower started running and Luka’s deep sigh of relief. Poor guy , she thought, he must have been miserable . She put the music player on and sat for a moment, chewing her thumbnail nervously.

After a few minutes she sat up straighter, listening. Was that—over the sound of the running water and Jagged Stone wailing through her sound system, she heard another voice. Luka was...singing? He was singing along with the song that was playing. Marinette giggled, and moved to the other end of the couch, listening. He had a nice voice, she thought wistfully. She’d seen him with a guitar on his back in the halls. She wondered if some of the music she occasionally heard through his door in the hall was music he made, rather than the radio as she’d assumed.

She flopped on the arm of the couch and groaned. He was so cool, and she was such a disaster. She would have never been brave enough to ask to use a stranger’s shower, no matter how miserable and disgusting she was.

Poor guy , she thought again. He must have been really desperate.

She sat up, and picked up her phone, looking at it in her hands. Maybe she could...well, it might be stupid but it couldn’t hurt to just ask, right?

Marinette dialed the building maintenance number. “Hi Pierre,” she chirped brightly when the grumpy old technician picked up the phone. “It’s Marinette in 34 B? How are you doing?

“Miss Marinette!” The gruff tone softened. “I’m doing well, doing well. Tickets lined up like crazy, though. Everything seems to be breaking at once these days.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Marinette said, putting on a tone of great sympathy. “Maybe I shouldn’t bother you then—”

“Now, now, none of that. What can I do for you?”

“It’s not actually me,” Marinette said, “It’s my neighbor across the hall, Luka? His shower’s been out for a while now and he came over tonight to see if he could use mine—”

“What?” barked old Pierre, and Marinette grinned to herself. “That punk with the piercings? You shouldn’t be letting him traipse through your apartment Miss Marinette. Guys like that always try to take advantage.”

“Oh, I’m sure he wouldn’t do that,” Marinette said innocently. “I’m sure he wouldn’t do anything like that. I was calling to see when his shower might be fixed, but if you’re so busy, maybe I should just give him my spare key so he can—”

“No, no,” Pierre said quickly. “I’ve got his ticket right here, see, he was next on the list. His shower will be fixed tomorrow, so don’t be making any foolish offers Miss Marinette. You’re too nice for your own good, you know.”

“Oh, it never hurts to be nice, Pierre,” Marinette giggled. “I’m planning on making some chocolate chip scones tomorrow to take to a friend, so if you do come to fix Luka’s shower, stop on by, I’ll save a few of them for you.”

“Well, I’ll stop by if I have time,” Pierre said gruffly. “Not that sweets are much to a man my age, but if you made them…”

“Great, I hope I’ll see you!” Marinette giggled. “Thanks so much Pierre, you’re an angel.” She hung up, grinning to herself.

“I can’t believe it. You’re magic.”

Marinette jumped half out of her skin and whirled around. Luka grinned at her sheepishly, but she hardly noticed, because while he was wearing pants—a different, more fitted pair than what he’d had on when he arrived—his torso was bare, and her fluffy pink towel hung around his shoulders, catching only most of the drips falling from his blue hair. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, and I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. I just wanted to ask if you had a hair dryer I can borrow. I forgot to grab mine.”

“Oh, um, sure,” Marinette said, jumping up. “I’ll just...I’ll get it, if that’s okay.” She blushed, thinking of all the things she had shoved in the cabinet before he came.

“Sure.” Luka moved back out of her way, and she shimmied past him into the bathroom. She blinked a moment at the amount of paraphernalia spread on her counter. She’d never thought guys used that much product, but she shook herself and bent over to dig in the cabinet, trying to block it with her body so Luka couldn’t see inside. It took some effort to find the hair dryer, which had been shoved against the back of the cabinet in her frenzied tidying, but by some miracle she extracted it without dumping all of the piled up junk onto the floor. Sighing in relief, she straightened and turned. “Got it!”

Luka was looking at the ceiling. His darkly tanned skin was flushed from the hot shower and the line of his neck made her swallow. “Luka?” she repeated, trying not to squeak.

His dropped his gaze back to her, and she froze under the intensity in that look for a moment. Then he blinked and smiled, softening, and Marinette felt she could move again. She offered him the hair dryer and he took it. “Thanks, Marinette,” he said. “And thanks for getting Pierre’s ass in gear. He hates me, so I figured it’d be a week at least before I could get him to come out.”

“Oh, that.” Marinette shrugged, and grinned mischievously. “I have a lot of experience dealing with grouchy old men.” She winked, and to her mild surprise, the color in Luka’s cheeks deepened. He cleared his throat.

“Well, thanks for making the effort, I really appreciate it.”

“Why does he hate you?” Marinette frowned, as Luka’s words caught up to her.

Luka nodded vaguely in the direction of the back of the building. “We got into it over me feeding the strays. He was nattering on about disease and just breeding more and blah, blah, blah.” Luka rolled his eyes. “If he’d actually listen for five minutes...anyway, I have a friend, the blond that was with me that one time, you remember? He runs a trap-and-release program for feral cats, gets them vaccinated and fixed and all that and then lets them back out into their home territory. The cats behind our building are probably as safe as your average indoor cat, in terms of disease.”

“Oh,” Marinette gasped, awed. “That’s really cool.”

Luka grinned. “He’s pretty passionate about it. He did all the real work, trapping and transport and all that. I just make sure they have a good meal. May I?” He gestured towards the sink, and Marinette jumped.

“Oh, of course, please. I’m sorry, I’m going to make you late with all this chattering—” Marinette babbled as she and Luka did a slightly awkward dance to let him in and her out of the bathroom. He smelled much better now, she noticed giddily as they had to squeeze together. She only barely managed not to squeal when he took her arm lightly to guide her around him.

“By the way,” he called once she was out, and she glanced back to see him unscrewing the lid on one of the sink jars. “Do you have any suggestions for good places to eat close by?” He looked over his shoulder at her and grinned. “I’m always looking to try new things.”

“U-um—” Finding it hard to think while staring at his bare back, Marinette turned away and tapped a finger to her lips in thought. “What kind of food do you like?”

“Anything,” Luka replied, running fingers coated in some kind of gel through his hair. “I like all kinds of things.”

“What does she like?”

“I don’t know yet,” Luka admitted.

Marinette considered. “Well, my favorite is this Italian place about two blocks down, but Italian is chancy on a first date. Messy, you know. She might not be comfortable.” Marinette raised her voice as Luka turned on the hair dryer. “There’s an Indian place that’s a little farther away, and there’s a really cute little patisserie right next to it, that could be romantic. Oh, and there’s a park right there, if you feel like a nighttime stroll.” She frowned. “You didn’t already figure this stuff out?”

“I’m not really a planner,” Luka laughed, his deep voice carrying easily even over the noise of the dryer. “I had some ideas, but sometimes the universe throws you an Indian place and a cute patisserie, with a moonlight stroll in the bargain.” He winked at Marinette. “It pays to keep an open mind.”

Marinette started to smile, and then remembered she was helping him plan a date with someone else, and turned away again. “Okay, well, you’ll have to let me know how it goes,” she said quickly as she went down the hallway. Her eyes were stinging and she took a deep breath as she blinked. Stupid , she scolded herself. She didn’t even know him, because just like always she’d never found the guts to actually talk to him, besides a hello and good night! and one very rushed um, cat food was on sale and I noticed it was the brand you buy so...here! SEEYOULATERBYE! He was her neighbor and she hadn’t even asked his name before today, only seen it on the mail that had been misdelivered to her box instead of his. All she had was little stolen scraps, because she hadn’t been brave enough to ask for more.

Ugh she was such a loser, it was no wonder Luka had never even—well, he had said a word to her, actually. Words like Are you all right? and Can I help you with that? and Wow, thanks, that’s so cool of you . Because he was sweet and nice as well as good looking, and if she’d had any guts at all maybe she could have—

“Marinette?”

She whirled, and Luka was standing there, his bag at his feet, closing the last two buttons of a black dress shirt. “Are you all right?” he asked as he began rolling the sleeves up to bare his forearms. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“What? No, of course not.” Marinette clamped her teeth down on her tongue before she could blurt something like I have shirtless men in my home all the time . Luka was looking at her with a slightly furrowed brow.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I should have gone back to my place to finish up, I wasn’t—I mean I didn’t mean to impose or anything.”

Marinette took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then gave him a genuine smile. “You didn’t. Really, Luka, I wasn’t bothered. I just, um. I got emotional about something for a moment there, but it wasn’t your fault.”

Luka nodded. “Something about bad dating karma?” he guessed, voice so gentle it made her ache.

“More or less.” Marinette tried to smile.

“Well,” Luka sighed, finishing the second sleeve. “Honestly I haven’t been too lucky in that department myself. I was hoping tonight would change that, but...maybe...maybe it isn’t the best time after all.”

“What?” Marinette cried, staring at him. “Why? Luka, you seemed like you liked this girl so much, and you’re all dressed up.” She stepped to him and adjusted the set of his collar without thinking. “You look so good, it’ll be great. She won’t be able to resist you. Believe me, I know it’s scary to put yourself out there, but won’t you regret it if you don’t?” I do .

Luka caught her wrists gently. “Yeah, I really think I would.” He grinned. “Now I just need to ask her.”

Marinette blinked up at him. “You didn’t ask her?” she asked, bewildered. “Isn’t it going to be kind of short notice?” She frowned. “You said you had a date tonight.”

Luka dipped his head in a kinda-sorta motion. “I said I was supposed to have a date tonight,” he chuckled. “And I would have—or at least I hope so—if I’d asked you out two days ago when I planned. But then I got home from work and of course I was sweaty and gross and then my shower wouldn’t work, and I couldn’t talk to you while I was disgusting. Not when you’re always so pretty and neat and put together.”

Marinette’s cheeks flushed.

“And then Pierre didn’t show and he didn’t show and he didn’t show,” Luka rolled his eyes. “And if I didn’t ask you out today, I’d owe my buddy that runs the cat rescue my favorite signed Jagged Stone album. He’s been bugging me about asking you out for like a month.” He grinned. “Ever since you brought me the cat food? He could see how much I liked you and he decided then and there we were meant to be, and somehow I let him talk me into this stupid—bet or dare or whatever, that if I didn’t man up by today...well. I would’ve asked you anyway one way or another.”

Marinette’s mouth dropped open, and she was sure her face must be on fire.

“So, now that I’m presentable,” Luka grinned slowly. “Will you go out to dinner with me tonight? I heard about this really good Indian place. Maybe afterwards we could grab dessert and take a walk in the park? I’d really like to get to know you better.”

Marinette gasped, and then her lips pursed into a pout. Luka laughed. “You’re mean,” she told him, kicking his shin lightly.

Luka’s shoulders hunched a little, and he looked guilty. “I didn’t mean to be. I’m sorry for teasing.” He blushed. “I guess I was nerving myself up a bit, telling you how much I liked you without you knowing, but I didn’t think about how it would come across. I didn’t mean to upset you. No pressure, okay?” He slid his hands from her wrists to her hands and lowered them between them. “If you don’t want to, no hard feelings. Just, like you said. I’d regret it if I didn’t try.”

“But—” Marinette let go of his hands as her own flew to her hair. “I’m not dressed for a date!”

Luka chuckled. “You look gorgeous to me. But I can wait if you want to change.”

Marinette reddened. “I—w-well, I mean...I mean I guess we could—” Luka laid a finger on her lips.

“Breathe,” he told her, clearly trying not to laugh. “You’re really cute, you know that?”

That didn’t help her efforts to calm down, but she did manage to breathe, despite the very distracting slide of his finger as it left her lips. “Fine,” she said finally. “But you better be prepared because I’m going all out for our second date.”

Luka’s grin went wide and bright and more than a little silly. “I can’t wait.”

ETA: Okay, yes, I know this was a bit mean for Marinette. I did actually really waffle about it while I was writing it and I almost scrapped it a couple times, but the whole point of the timer is to keep me on task and stop the second guessing and overthinking that was sabotaging me, so I ran with it. I did ultimately decide to keep it because really, they haven't had a chance to really talk or anything here, and so Luka doesn't really know that Marinette's into him. He's aware there's some attraction between them, but he doesn't know how hard she's crushing. So really, he's just a bit insecure himself and psyching himself up a bit for The Moment. So I justify it to myself anyway. As soon as he's able to actually take in her mood he's aware he's messed up. If you can't forgive him, that's okay. Mari will get him back later.

Fiction Master Post

#quickspins #neighborly #i'll never not know you #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #ml fics #pro lukamari

74 notes · View notes

samuel-de-champagne-problems · 3 years

Text

Blurb #9

Pairing- Spencer Reid x Female Reader

CW- none

Author’s Note- this comes from this ask by @leahblackk thanks so much for this love!! it was so much fun to write 💛 also sorry if it looks a little wonky I’m on mobile!!

Word Count— 2K (not really a blurb)

Studies show that the music we listen to at 14 years old is the most influential on our personality and development. Naturally, there’s some exceptions to this. Spencer, for one, tended to listen to classical music or the Beach Boys records his mother had around the house as a teenager. He still can’t listen to jazz without the bittersweet memories of Ethan coming back to haunt him. His music taste, in his opinion, didn’t really develop until Derek made him listen to his CDs on rides during their commute.

It wasn’t until he met his neighbor, Y/N that he learned just how impactful music can be on someone’s life. Spencer, despite Derek and Penelope’s efforts, doesn’t really enjoy modern music. There’s one expectation to that though: Y/N. Everytime she drags him over for late night dinners and movie nights, she always ends up putting a Taylor Swift album on her vintage record player. It’s like a ritual that either comforts her, hypes her up, or softens her heartbreak. Through the months that they’ve been friends, Spencer’s come to enjoy the music nights. There’s something about the way that she sings about love and life that is so familiar to Spencer. The day he realized, it hit him like a ton of bricks. Y/N makes all those magical, heartwarming, Taylor Swift songs make sense.

So everytime he goes over to her apartment, before he knocks he’ll listen for the music. It’s hard to not let his profiling instincts kick when he does this. Thanks to his eidetic memory, Spencer can recognize any of the songs with only a couple seconds of the lyrics.

On a sunny Monday, Spencer listens closely for the record player. He can hear the upbeat, dance tunes of New Romantics. Okay, he thinks. If Y/N is listening to that song, she’s probably happy. So he knocks on the door, a big smile on his face ready to listen to the happiest Taylor Swift songs with the girl he’s pining for and try not to reveal just how much he wants her to love him back.

“Spence! Come on, we’re dancing” Y/N shouts loudly above the music. Spencer doesn’t want to burst her bubble by telling her he doesn’t dance, so he takes her hand and dances his heart away.

In between the jumpy and laughter the song shifts. Y/N must be playing it from her Alexa because the next song is from a different album, Paper Rings comes on next. A song dedicated to the kind of love that probably makes the most sense to Spencer. He’d marry Y/N without any kind of ring- and that’s a terrifying thought.

“I love this song!” Y/N says, closing her eyes and dancing wildly, “You like this one too, right Spence?” she says above the loud music.

Spencer, unable to fully articulate how much he loves this song, decides to grab Y/N by the hand and twirl her around and around. She’s laughing and smiling, happy as she could be. Spencer’s thoughts shift from how beautiful she looks, to how easy this is. How simple loving her could be, but how hard telling her is.

The music slows, turning to Lover, a song that Spencer has dreamt of dancing with Y/N to on a white veiled occasion several times. This must be her happy playlist, Spencer thinks as she pull him close. They’re slow dancing and if Spencer closes his eyes and quiets his mind, he can trick himself into thinking she loves him back. Afterall she holds him like she does.

“I like this one the best,” Spencer whispers, his eyes still closed as he and Y/N sway to the beat of the song, “It’s comforting,” he explains.

“It’s a good wedding song,” Y/N says, resting her head against his shoulder, “like a first dance song,”

“It is,” Spencer says, “It’s actually in the proper beats per second to be a waltz, which is a common dance for a traditional first dance at a wedding,”

“Yeah,” Y/N says, pulling herself in closer to Spencer as she pets small circles into his soft cardigan. The spot where she touches leaves her mark; his heart has belonged to her for awhile now, but Spencer’s ready to give her whatever else she wants, “but dancing like this is also very nice,”

“Hmm,” Spencer says, not trusting himself to say anything else. The music switches again, and Spencer knows the song, probably before even Y/N. Dress comes on and Spencer really isn’t sure how he’ll get through listening to the sultry song that croons about pining after your best friend. Part of him seriously thinks he’s being stalked, because those songs perfectly encapsulate his love and his admiration for the girl next door.

“Oh, I got asked out on a date,” Y/N says, seemingly shocking Spencer out of his daydream, “at the coffee shop. His name is John, he seems nice,” she tells him, sounding a little nervous.

“That’s great, Y/N,” Spencer says, trying to put on a smile for his best friend, but fails to do so, “I’m happy for you,”

“Well it’s, you know. I think I just need to put myself out there and stop waiting around for my wild dreams to come true. Because after all your wildest dreams are just that, dreams,” she says, a little sadly.

“Call me after, Y/N, just to make sure you get home safe,” Spencer requests, he squeezes her hand, in what he hopes can be seen as a friendly gesture, despite him not wanting to let go.

“Of course, Mr. FBI,” Y/N teases, “Alexa, shut up! Hey, Spence, you want to order pizza. It’s been like a week since I watch Long Pond and I’ve got that itch that only listening to This Is Me Trying while stuffing my face with pizza and white wine can fix,”

“Sure, Y/N,” Spencer says, smiling through his heartbreak. He tries to not let Y/N see the tears that prickle in the corners of his eyes when the 1 comes on. It would have been fun, if he could have been Y/N’s “1”. Even in heartbreak, Taylor Swift can capture exactly what Spencer feels.

He almost didn’t bother checking by her apartment because he knew it’s her date with Jake or John, or whatever his name was. Spencer’s not a man to get jealous, he knows that Y/N doesn’t owe him her love just because he loves her. He knows that, but that doesn’t lessen the hurt of her falling for someone other than him.

As he walks by, Spencer’s ears catch the music coming from her apartment. He hears the unrecognizable twangy strum of the guitar and knows it’s going to be back news. Without thinking, Spencer rumages into his pocket, looking for his spare key to Y/N’s apartment. He unlocks the door and is greeted by Y/N’s cat, August, meowing at the door.

“Where’s our girl?” Spencer says, picking up the cat as he slips off his shoes, “hey, Y/N. It’s Spencer. I heard the music and I just thought I’d check in. I thought you were going out on your date?” he asks, finding Y/N curled up on the couch, with piles of tissues littered around her.

“Please, Spence. I’m a mess. I don’t want anyone to see me like this, especially you,” Y/N tells him, mopping her eyes up and petting her lap for August to jump up.

“Hey, hey, honey. You don’t have to worry about being a mess in front of me, I already think you’re amazing,” Spencer says, softly. He tries to gracefully avoid the spoiled tissues, he might be in love with Y/N, but he’s not in love with her used tissues.

“He-he stood me up,” Y/N stutters as a new wave of tears floods her face. Spencer leans over, shutting Alexa off. The sorrow, regretful tunes of Dear John turn off, leaving Spencer with the thought that it probably was an appropriate song to choose.

“I don’t even know why I try any more, Spence” she says, leaning into his body as he puts a comforting and protective arm around her upper half, “it’s useless. I’m doomed to be alone,”

“That’s not true, Y/N,” Spencer says, mumbling into her hair, “not at all. You’re amazing. You’re kind and so smart. You’re beautiful and you have great taste in music. Anybody would be lucky to date you,” he finishes, forgetting himself for a second as he kisses her hair. She smells like green apples and ivory soap.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my friend,” Y/N says. The emphasis on ‘friend’ giving Spencer a little hope at what she is subtly implying.

“What-what if I wasn’t? What if I wasn’t saying this as just a friend?” Spencer asks, daring to be bold and brave for once in his life. He couldn’t be bold and brave for Y/N, then who is he?

She must be thinking, because Y/N doesn’t say anything. Spencer’s mind instantly switches into full gear, thinking of how he’d get out of here all while sparing his feelings.

“Please don’t say those things, Spencer. Don’t say those things unless you mean it,” Y/N tells him, her voice sounding cold and far off, like she’s trying to put some distance between themselves to protect herself. Spencer’s mind ventures to take it as a good thing, when she doesn’t physically distance herself. She decides to stay with Spencer’s arms wrapped around her upper half and his hands drawing shapes on her back.

“I mean it, Y/N. I really do mean it,” Spencer says, sounding terrified, but feeling braver than ever. “I’d never lie to you about how you make me feel. Not anymore at least,” he explains, waiting for Y/N to respond.

“Can I show you something?” Y/N ask, her voicing sounding an awfully lot like Spencer’s with the mix of fear and tension and love fighting for dominance.

“Of course,” Spencer says, nodding into her hair and letting her go.

He watches and waits as she grabs her phone from the coffee table. Y/N launches her music app, but covers her phone so Spencer can’t see which playlist she’s choosing. Y/N has very curated Taylor Swift playlists kko that help her to either middle through her dark days or celebrate her happy ones.

The music starts and just within the first few notes Spencer can tell which song is playing. “Gold Rush,” he asks, of course getting it correct and making Y/N smile.

“I knew I kept you around for a reason,” Y/N says, scooting in closer to Spencer so his chin rests over her head. “I don’t think you’ve heard this playlist yet,” she says, handing him her phone.

Spencer looks at the phone, reading the playlist title Songs That Remind Me of Spencer, but ends up having to do a double take.

“This song always reminded me of you, Spence. I think it just captures how beautiful you are and how scared I am that you’ll find someone that will make you feel that way. Someone that’s more beautiful and better for you—“

Spencer can’t hear it anymore so he does something that was only a figment of his imagination: he kisses Y/N. He holds her head in his hands, brushing gently on her temples. It’s wonderful and magical, and Spencer thinks that he could kiss her for his whole life. He wants to know what makes her whimper and whine or make her flush. He wants to know everything about her because he is her 1, just as she is his.

“You made a playlist for me?” Spencer says, breaking away from Y/N’s lips to kiss her face. All over her forehead, her cheeks and eyes. He kisses her like he can’t get enough and is only encouraged by Y/N giggles for approval.

“Of course I did, Spence. You’re just everything to me and I couldn’t quite say it myself. So I left it up to the best songwriter I know,”

“I’ll make you one, today. Tomorrow, everyday,” Spencer says, kissing Y/N’s hands and wrists, “I just want to make you happy and know how loved you are. Because I love you, Y/N” Spencer says

“Spence,” Y/N says, not quite able to articulate how much she loves him, kisses his forehead, “I love you. God. I love you so much. And I may or may not have re-written Hey Stephen as Hey Spencer,”

#spencer reid #spencer reid blurbs #Spencer Reid x reader

85 notes · View notes

that-one-weeb-but-starwars · 3 years

Text

For the dead| Gregor

Note: YAY I FRICKEN LOVE THE DAY OF THE DEAD- AHHH

also....part 2?

Warnings: none,

Reader: male

"I got new hands for you!"

"yeah! Yeah send em back!" Y/n shouted not bothering to turn his head from his task of washing dishes.

Gregor was nudged forward by Cid, he making his way back, still dressed cladly in his trooper armor.

"Uh. Y/n?" He questioned.

Y/n turned his head, "That's me."

There was an awkward silence, "so..."

"Oh right!" Y/n spoke, "just grab a sponge and a bucket and start scrubbing something."

"That's it?" Gregor asked, his voice staying higher as he talked.

Y/n nodded, "this kitchen's filthy, I offered to help Cid start selling meals here, so it needs to be cleaned before I even start."

Gregor nodded, great. He went from slave of the republic to slave of Cid. Y/n returned to scrubbing dishes as Gregor grabbed a bucket and walked away, Y/n, had already scrubbed seemingly everything in his vicinity.

"Anything in the back?" Gregor questioned voice cracking slightly.

"Yep. Haven't touched it yet." Y/n smiled, "just through the doorway."

Gregor walked through the kitchen, turning into the doorway he almost wanted to barf, he found a whole new respect for Y/n and barely knew the guy, the place stunk of rotten food and garbage.

Had it always been this bad?

Pulling up his sleeves and taking off his gloves, not willing to get his own pair of black gloves dirty he started on the cracked walls, he spent the next hour cleaning one wall.

Getting down to the trim in the corner there was a crack in the wall, small his fingernail it held one flower, bright and eye-catching in color, an orange color, and odd color not seen much around the galaxy.

"Wonder how long you've survived here." He commented, to no one in particular cleaning around the flower carefully. Starting the next wall his sponge split in half, splatting him in the chest plate.

"Damn it." He cursed, tossing the broken sponge in the murky water, "probably should change this all out anyways."

Walking back to Y/n was to ask for a replacement sponge he was greeted with a dark room, a soft glow of orange and yellow at the end of the hall.

"Y/n?" Gregor called, bucket in hand he walked towards the light he ended up at an alter, shelves built like a small pyramid that hung a bit higher than waist height on the wall.

Seeing some of the pictures he picked up one, "This...is this Fives?" He questioned remembering the trooper from way back when.

The shelves were decorated with pictures and flowers, small fruits and drinks, everything brought together with lit candles. That's when he realized, the flowers adorning the altar were the same ones that grew out the walls trim.

Others he didn't realize, some other troopers, sure. A drawn photo of 99 the old defective clone who had been put on cleaning duty on Kamino.

"Hey-"

The sudden noise started him, causing him to jolt forward as he turned to face the voice. Bumping into the shelves as it came tumbling down. Gregor trying to catch it but to no avail, the crashing of glass echoing as it hit the floor in the once spotless kitchen. The two winced at the sound.

"Sorry..." he apologized, bucket still one hand looking back prepared to be yelled at.

"Hey. It's okay." Y/n spoke, "I have more frames and candle glasses."

Y/n quickly sorting through the mess for the photos in the hope they weren't ruined by the spill of food or drink.

"The candles-"

"Battery operated." Y/n spoke, "Im not that stupid."

Gregor set the bucket down, quickly helping, "I'm sorry- I really am-" his voice cracking with nervousness as Y/n started putting things on the counter in a hurry.

"It's okay, really." Y/n told him, "I should have moved it anyways"

Gregor rubbed the back of his neck putting wrecked flowers on the counter. Y/n grabbing a broom and cleaning all the food and glass up, Gregor holding the dustpan as they then cleaned up the spills. It was when they threw anything deemed ineligible for reuse did Gregor take a look back at the structure, it obviously had importance, and he felt bad he had ruined it.

"I shouldn't be asking questions. Not after what I did-" Gregor started, "but what's it for?"

"Hm?" Y/n questioned looking to the side, "oh. A cultural thing,"

Y/n had answered so casually, "Oh, " Gregor replied.

Y/n nodded, "To honor ones that passed on, I, unfortunately, didn't know my parents or family but made a family with those clones I saw drop you off, and some others, passed on friends of my own and the boys put some up there, I helped Omega draw 99 I believe was his name since she didn't have a photo."

"So, anyone can do it?" Gregor questioned.

"Mhm, I don't see why not, as long as you are respectful about it I don't see a problem." Y/n answered, "Thinking about doing it?"

"Me? Oh! Oh no!" He spoke, "Im sure I upset the ones passed on after, well that."

Y/n chuckled, "Im sure they're laughing at it wherever they are, I was laughing at it a bit, how jumpy you were."

"That bad?" Gregor chuckled.

"As high as a loth cat," He spoke now picking through the flowers, some disheveled by impact, Gregor helping in picking out the ruined ones.

"You have a place to sleep?" Y/n questioned.

"Huh?" Gregor questioned, "Uh no, no I don't."

"Wanna stay at my place? I have Menudo in my crockpot at home." Y/n told.

"Men- what?" Gregor asked, he had never heard of such a dish, yet he was more shocked that he had just ruined Y/n's important display and now was being asked if he wanted to sleep and eat at Y/n's home.

"Food, soup to be exact" Y/n spoke with a smile.

"I uh," Gregor tried to start, having trouble with the kindness, he was just recently shot at by some of his closest brothers, "Y-yeah I'd like that."

Y/n smiled, "Trust me, I think you'll like it, Ordo Mantell can get chilly from time to time."

Gregor nodded as Y/n tied up the flowers, bagging the broken ones.

"You're taking them?" Gregor asked, Y/n nodding.

"Yeah I never let my flowers go to waste, usually I make potpourri when the petals have been sundried." Y/n told, "It goes right back to them though, I always have a few vases full behind or between pictures for good luck, if I have too much- usually all the time- the neighboring old woman loves to have them and talk about them with her lady friends."

"You're full of surprises." Gregor commented.

Y/n smiled smally, "Well, I suppose I have a few more up my sleeve, now, shall we? We have about a twenty minute walk."

Gregor nodded Y/n had checked once more that everything was set out to dry, especially the pictures and then they were on there way. Gregor following Y/n like a puppy with his mother. The walk to his apartment was quiet, Y/n stopping a few times at small stands, Gregor didn't pay much attention to it, Y/n picking up some fruit- but what he did was pay attention too was the sigh in Y/n's voice when Vendors said they were out of what both the vendor and Y/n called Marigolds.

"Okay, tomorrow?" Y/n questioned.

"Early, but they're rare, especially out here, I know you want them for culture purposes Y/n but I have people paying double credit for them, my families in a tight spot, so If you can get here before those richins can, you can have them." The girl spoke, "I'm sorry chick."

Y/n sighed, "Okay thank you."

The woman nodded as Y/n had been turned away for the fourth time.

"Come on it's just up ahead." Y/n spoke gesturing across the street.

"Okay."

They walked across the street and into the store, "Afternoon,"

"Afternoon," The old woman smiled, "Ah! You brought a man home! A handsome one at that! Good for you!"

Y/n chuckled, Gregor rubbing the back of his neck flushetered.

"Gregor meet Mrs.Baker, Mrs.Baker Gregor." Y/n introduced.

"An honor mam." Gregor spoke.

"Not only is he a looker! He's a gentlemen!" She prasied, "Look at you!"

Y/n smiled, cheeks flustering shortly, it not going unnoticed by Gregor.

"And a man in uniform!"

"Goodnight Mrs.Baker!" Y/n spoke quickly, pulling Gregor through the small store to the back, "I'll have potpourri for you soon!"

"Your a dear you know that!" She called back as Y/n led Gregor to the steps, Y/n allowing gregor to go up first as they made it to the top of the stairs the door opened relieving a hallway.

"All the way up." Y/n spoke, "The attic."

"You lead the way," Gregor practically begged, Y/n nodded squeezing past him.

He smells good, was gregor's only thoughts as Y/n made it past him leading the way, up two more sets of stairs and up to a hatch, where he opened it.

"Watch yourself." Y/n told Gregor.

Gregor climbed the steep stairs following behind Y/n. It was surpignsly spacious, Y/n's little kitchenette behind where he climbed up from, a nice handmade run covered the floor in front of Gregor. Y/n walked over to his desk, that a bit more fancy as it was built into the angled ceiling a window as light source directly above, he set the bags down as a took cat come out from the seat of the chair.

"hey there." Y/n smiled rubbing it's head, "Meet Alley, Alley meet Gregor."

The tooka cat stay still, enjoying Y/n's pats on the head.

"Like an alley way?" Gregor questioned Y/n nodded.

"It's where I found him after all," Y/n commented, "Oh let me get you food you must be hungry."

Gregor finally made it up all the way after semi gazing at the place, closing the hatch below him. Y/n walking over to the kitchenette as he opened the crockpot lid. Gregor now level with the ground looked around, Y/n's "bed" was more of a large, humongous bean bag, easy to push and move as he needed and was convinet. He had a small table besides it with some candles, wax melted and dripping onto the table. Scanning around he seeing the center window, circular and big in shape, with shelves on the walls surrounding it.

"Is this...what I seen earlier?"

Gregor was infauted to say less, the bright colors of the marigolds contrasted to the cool colors of the dark night of Ordo mantel with the city lights crashing against it. Real candles that once stood tall were now wilted away and dripping wax but still lit. Images again at the center of everything accompanied by food and drink. It was beautiful, but sad, how something which could be so painful could be so beautiful.

"It's...amazing." Gregor commented, Y/n watching him from across the room look with infatuation and awe, Gregor turned back towards Y/n who smiled smally.

"I tried my hardest." Y/n smiled, "I do every year."

"What is this?" Gregor questioned, "All this? For someone who will never see it?"

Y/n's smile went to a flat line, but then he thought- looked at Gregor's armor, that was right. He was a clone, the cloest thing to a properal r memorial or burial was there helmet on a pike.

"That's what's the marigolds are for," Y/n told walking forward next to him, "They guide the souls back to us. I unfortantly can't make much of a path, so I gather as many as I can in one place, it's one way my planet use to honor the dead."

"Use to?" Gregor questioned.

"My home plant went dormaint." Y/n told him, "I try and keep as much as I can alive still."

Gregor frowned, looking away, "I- I'm sorry, you allow me into your house and-"

"No, No it's okay." Y/n spoke, "I understand wanting to know."

Y/n lightly grabbed Gregor's chin, with a light push of his finger's Gregor was looking back at Y/n, eye's catching all too long. Y/n pulled his hand away slowly, clearing his throat only the slightest.

"I'll ask you a question then," Y/n spoke, Gregor nodding.

"You're voice, it cracks and it's higher than than other clones." Y/n commented, "Any reason why?"

Gregor shook his head no, "Suppsoe it was always my little quirk." he chuckled, Y/n smiling, they catching each other's gaze again, but for longer, eyes lingering only one anothers, unlike Gregor, Y/n's were dark dark brown, almost black, with a soft highlight of pastel brown, despite there dark color they were warm and welcoming.

"I," Y/n spoke, "Lets eat?"

#captain gregor #gregor tbb #the bad batch gregor #gregor x reader #male reader insert #sw x male reader #tbb x male reader #x male reader #male readers need more fanfic tbh #male reader #Gregor x male reader #gregor x male reader

50 notes · View notes

redux-iterum · 3 years

Text

A Kindling: Chapter Two

(AO3 counterpart here.)

A mass of grey exploded from the brush. Before Rusty could so much as blink, he found himself thrown backwards. He landed on his side and rolled a little, grass and ferns and soil catching on his pelt.

Rusty wasted no time in getting to his feet, staring at the big grey tabby that stood across from him. He started to turn, but he was tackled again and knocked onto his back. The tabby loomed over him, bright yellow eyes alight with interest.

Rusty was small enough that he could reach with his back foot and kick the cat in their face. The tabby threw their head back with a noise of surprise and Rusty scrambled upwards again. This time, he didn’t try to run, except to stumble back a bit to give himself space and time to get a good look at his assailant.

This cat—a tom—was quite bigger than Rusty, and significantly furrier; it was hard to tell how much of his size was from his hair alone. His face was large but youthful, making Rusty blink as he realized that he might be around Rusty’s age—which was quite terrifying, given how massive the tom’s paws were. His eyes were the only brightly lit part of his face, and they oddly did not seem angry or even wary. If anything, he looked curious.

“St-stay back,” Rusty stammered anyway, as if he could pose a threat to this monolith. His back paws inched a step or two away. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”

The tabby blinked, and spoke in a much higher, younger voice than Rusty had expected. “Well, that’s obvious. Not that you could.”

Rusty stared. This cat was definitely his age, then. “I just- I was only following that animal, whatever it is.”

The bright eyes widened in shock and sparkled in amusement. “You don’t even know what you were hunting?”

“I…” Rusty’s head lowered and his shoulders hunched of their own accord, embarrassment warming his ears. “No.”

“Wooow,” the tabby said, sounding genuinely awed. “You kittypets really are sheltered. Even a kit knows what a mouse is.”

‘Mouse’, Rusty thought, even more embarrassed. He had heard the word before, but never had an image attached to it. Now it seemed painfully obvious that he had been after a mouse. His ears burned, sliding back to fold against his head.

Eager to get away from this feeling, he changed the topic. “What’s a kittypet?”

“Uh, you?” The tabby’s eyes scanned him with bafflement. “You live in those houses with the humans, right? You’ve got a collar.”

Rusty didn’t know how this cat managed to make having a collar sound scornful. “I-I do, yeah. I live with my human.”

“So you’re a kittypet.” The tabby gave a self-satisfactory nod. “And you really shouldn’t be on our territory, hunting our food. You’ve got food at home.”

“I do,” Rusty repeated, quieter. He wanted to huddle again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

The tabby eyed him doubtfully before abruptly turning his head back and calling into the woods, “Is that the answer you wanted, Bluestar?”

“More or less,” said someone else.

Rusty jolted upright as two cats, both even larger than the tabby, pushed out of the undergrowth. One of them was a dark red tom with white feet, and the other, the tallest of the three, was a magnificent blue-grey molly who only had to glance at Rusty to make him want to bow his head in respect. Both of them had long hair, like the tabby, and both of them had grave, hardened faces, though their eyes were alert and more youthful.

“I had been hoping to see more of a fight,” the molly said, her voice low and commanding, “but we can take it from here, Greypaw, thank you.”

The tabby—Greypaw, rather—immediately took several steps back to allow the older cats to approach Rusty. Rusty stood, frozen in place, as they moved forward with slow, deliberate, incredibly intimidating steps, until they were within a tail-length of him. The red tom tilted his head a little, quietly regarding Rusty.

The molly looked down at Rusty. “Hello, Rusty. I am Bluestar.”

Rusty swallowed, too nervous to wonder where she got his name. “Hello.”

Bluestar had to have noticed his nervousness, because her tone softened a little. “I’m the leader of ThunderClan, the Clan that owns this forest.”

So they are real, Rusty thought, eyes wide.

“This—” Bluestar nodded to the tom “—is Redtail, and you know Greypaw already. We’ve come to speak with you tonight.”

Rusty blinked. “M-me? Why?”

Redtail spoke now, and his voice was much warmer, easing Rusty’s anxiety a little. “We’ve noticed you for a while now, staring into our woods since you came to live with the humans. We actually expected that you would wander past the border someday. It was a lucky coincidence that we decided to talk to you tonight, just as you trespassed.”

“Oh.” Rusty lowered his chin a little, embarrassed again. “I didn’t realize this wasn’t a place I could explore. I mean, I heard you chase house cats away, but I just… I was too curious, and my friend—”

Bluestar cleared her throat quietly and Rusty immediately clamped his mouth shut. “You don’t need to make excuses, Rusty. We’re not upset with you.”

Somehow, that didn’t make him feel any more relieved.

“We had Greypaw attack you to see how you’d react,” she said. “And while you’re not exactly strong, you were honorable about coming here uninvited, and we respect that.”

Redtail suddenly walked forward and began circling Rusty, sniffing him. He and his tail were long enough that they formed a complete ring around Rusty. He stayed perfectly still, keeping his eyes on Bluestar, having a feeling that that was the correct choice.

“Now let me ask you…” Bluestar’s head tipped to one side just a fraction as she appraised the little house cat. “Are you satisfied with your life as a kittypet? Are you content to live in a house, wearing a collar, eating those pellets forever?”

Rusty blinked, caught off-guard by the sudden questions. “It’s- it’s been pretty boring, honestly. I…”

He trailed off, unsure of where to go with this.

Bluestar nodded with a subtle sense of encouragement. “Go ahead. How do you feel being a kittypet?”

Rusty took a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing. “I guess I would say that it feels… easy. Which, I don’t think that’s a bad thing for some, but I’m always bored when I’m home. If- well, if you have been watching me, you must have seen me going into everybody else’s yards. I irritate some of my neighbors, and I don’t mean to, but I can’t help it. Just staying inside, or in my own yard, I get restless. The only reason I haven’t come here before is because of the rumors about you. That you chase off strangers, and things like that.”

He happened to glance at Greypaw, who was now much closer, like he had been sneaking up to listen in better. The tom seemed quite intrigued by Rusty’s speech—almost eager, if Rusty wasn’t mistaken. For what, though, he wasn’t sure.

Bluestar spoke again and Rusty immediately returned his attention to her. “Then you would leave your kittypet life, if you think you could.”

Rusty considered this idea for a few heartbeats, then nodded. “I would. My friend would think I’m crazy, but I’d love to see what else is out there. I just don’t know if I can.”

Redtail paused as he came around to Rusty’s head and silently caught his eyes. He looked pleased. “I think you can, chrii, if you really want to.”

“Then you agree?” Bluestar said to him.

Redtail nodded. “It’s worth a try.”

“Very good.” Bluestar turned back to Rusty. “Then we have an offer for you.”

Rusty held his breath without quite knowing why.

“If you are willing to leave your kittypet life behind,” Bluestar said, lowering her head a little to meet Rusty’s eye level, “and if you are willing to work hard and learn our ways, ThunderClan would be interested in having you join us.”

Rusty’s eyes widened. Something in his chest flared to life in a way he had not felt before. “Me? T-to be a Clan cat?”

“That’s right.” Bluestar met his eyes with a pale, serious stare. “I will warn you now—Clan life is not for everyone. You will need to hunt for food, and defend our borders, and live with many other cats who may not all like you at first. You’d have to change your name to something like our names. We don’t have your human healing powers out here. You could get sick or injured, and you won’t have the humans as an option for help.”

“And we have a Code we live by,” Redtail added, also looking Rusty in the eye—though his gaze was much less intimidating. “You’ll have to follow our rules and obey your superiors. And, most importantly, you can’t come back to your human for any reason.”

Rusty blinked. “Why not?”

“We stay away from humans,” Redtail said. “We don’t take food from them, we don’t play with their cats, and we don’t go into the Houses unless we’re forced to. We take care of ourselves.”

“That means that you would have to say goodbye to your friend.” Bluestar caught Rusty’s attention now. “You won’t be able to go to his home and play with him anymore.”

A great deal of these warnings, oddly, did not bother Rusty, but as soon as this last condition was given, he hesitated. “…Could I at least talk to him?”

“No,” Bluestar said. “If you are one of us, you don’t talk to kittypets.”

Rusty’s eyes lowered to the ground. Losing all contact with Smudge was a hefty price for…

“It sounds like a really difficult life,” he said, looking back up at Bluestar. “Is it all that bad?”

Bluestar’s eyes crinkled, surprisingly humorous. “No, of course not. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be doing it.”

“Being a Clan cat is great!” Greypaw burst out. His huge paws almost tripped over each other as he closed the distance between him and the rest of the group. “We eat real food, and we have the forest all to ourselves, and we’re so strong we scare all the cats in the Aulmir and Houses, and we—”

“Greypaw,” Redtail said patiently.

Greypaw’s ears went down, but he didn’t fully deflate. “Sorry. I just think he’d really like it.”

“I do too.” Redtail looked at Rusty. “Being part of ThunderClan means you’re courageous and powerful. You have a community who will fight to the death to protect you from any danger.”

“Even at first?” Rusty asked.

“Even at first,” Redtail affirmed. “We have our great wide forest, and we still travel to different places and meet with different cats—the other Clans that live nearby. You’ll get to learn a great deal of new things, all the while living a real life, running and climbing and hunting.” He cocked his head to the side almost fondly. “And we have many stories to share with you. I think you’d be interested in those.”

“What do you think, Rusty?” Bluestar said.

All three ThunderClan cats watched him expectantly as he focused hard, considering his options. Exploring, hunting mice, meeting new cats: it all sounded exciting. He didn’t mind the work that would come with being feral, if he had those cats that could support him while he learned their ways. He didn’t even really mind the idea of changing his name.

But the risk of getting hurt or sick, having to abandon Smudge, and the warning that he might not be welcomed initially…

He looked at Bluestar. “I don’t know what to do. It’s a lot to think about.”

“That’s alright.” Bluestar straightened up again, returning to her businesslike posture. “I know it’s a big change from what you’re used to. We can give you two days to think about it. The night after tomorrow, there will be two warriors waiting for you at the edge of this forest. You can give them your answer. If you decide to join us, they’ll take you to our camp.”

“And that’ll be it?” Rusty asked.

“No more kittypet business,” Redtail said. “You’ll give all that up if you say yes.”

“Huh.” Rusty’s eyes returned to the ground as he considered this. He nodded slowly. “I would like to think it over, if that’s okay.”

“That’s why we offered it.” Redtail gave him a friendly tap on his back with his enormously fluffy tail. “I hope to see you in our camp soon, Rusty. Until then, I think it’s time for you to go home.”

“We do have a patrol to continue,” Bluestar said, not too unkindly. “Consider things carefully, Rusty. It’s all or nothing. If you say no, you aren’t welcome back in this forest.”

Rusty was a little worried by that last note, but he said, “Okay. Thank you, Bluestar. For the offer. Regardless of what I say.”

Bluestar looked down on him, but with approval in her eyes. “We’ll see you soon.”

With that, she jerked her head to the side and Greypaw approached, nosing Rusty’s shoulder and almost knocking him over. “Come on, I’ll take you back to the border.”

Rusty cleared his throat and dipped his head respectfully to Bluestar and Redtail before hurrying after the departing Greypaw. When he caught up, he opened his mouth to ask a question, but Greypaw spoke first.

“It’d be cool if you joined us,” he said. “You seem nice. And the other apprentices are either too shy or too up their own prats to hang out. I’ll help you learn the trade, if you come back.”

Rusty blinked, surprised by the offer. “Well… thank you.”

“You’ll get a much cooler name than ‘Rusty’, too.” Greypaw snorted. “’Rusty’, really, who named you?”

“My mother,” Rusty said, and couldn’t help digging back a little. “Not much weirder than ‘Greypaw’ and ‘Bluestar’ and ‘Redtail’. What if I get a weird name?”

“You won’t,” Greypaw said. “I’m sure of it.”

The two couldn’t talk any further; they had reached the end of the forest and Rusty could see his house (and a panicked Smudge) from here. He looked back at Greypaw, and was surprised by the earnest eagerness on his face.

“Hope to see you again, kittypet,” he said.

Rusty, not sure what to say, gave him a nod and started for his fence. He heard Greypaw rustling through the ferns and grass and disappearing into the woods. He didn’t look back. He had a feeling he would be tempted to return there if he did.

“You’re okay!” Smudge cried when he was close enough to speak. “I saw that cat—he’s huge! How did he not kill you?”

“He didn’t want to.” Rusty bunched up his haunches and leaped onto the fence. He turned to Smudge, unaware of his fur flaring and his eyes sparkling. “You are not going to believe what happened.”

#warrior cats #warriors redux iterum #iterum #a kindling #chapter #chapter two #book one #arc one

38 notes · View notes

bokunosimpfiction · 3 years

Text

Demon!Dimitrescux Reader

Synopsis: Lady Dimitrescu reveals herself as a demon that has made it her personal mission to guard you after what you believe is the case of worst/best timing of your entire life. No trigger warnings. 1.6k words.

A/N: This took me less than two hours to write/publish this. I needed this out of my system ASAP

The black Toyota Corolla had to look strangely familiar your first pass down the street. It reminded you of your boyfriend’s car, and you swore that the digits of the license plate must have been one or two off his, and the generic pine tree air freshener must have been a different color. Not to mention the woman in the backseat with a cocktail dress on.

You chose not to think about it as you walked into the 7-11 in nothing but your pajamas and the pair of crocs you haven’t worn since being on the college swim team. It wasn’t hard to decide what to grab off the shelves. A bag of chips store brand sour patch kids and gummy worms, a two-liter of Pepsi, and a bottle of wine too big for one person. The cashier looked just as tired as you did, and you understood what it was like, barely, time is a social construct that distanced you deeply from the night shifts you pulled at this same store while in college. Nine to five shifts (Dolly Parton shifts, your coworker would call them with a smile) were only better because you could sit down and have a stable sleep schedule. It was the same grueling work, and in your case, you had to deal with the same shitty people that complained about things you can’t control.

His droning voice pulled you out of your train of thoughts. “The total is forty-eight fifty-seven.” He was either crying in the backroom while you were picking out your chips or hit a massive dab, you weren’t sure, but his red eyes made either option feasible. You didn’t comment on it, only handing him two twenties and a ten and taking the change back before walking out the door. You didn’t say anything to him, and vice versa, which you appreciated because you didn’t have the energy to deal with a chatty Kathy right now. And as you pull yourself down the street, your bag of crap from 7-11 in your hand, you pass that same deja-vu-mobile and look at the stickers on the back.

The same I love my dog and proud cat-dad stickers in the exact same place, the dent on the right side of the bumper, and the license plate that was in fact, one hundred percent his. Which begs the question, who was the girl in the cocktail dress, and what was she doing in the backseat? The question didn’t matter for long because the car promptly burst into flames. Oh well. Wait.

The.

Car.

Is.

On.

Fire.

It’s your boyfriend’s car.

Your

Boyfriends.

Car.

Is.

On.

Fire.

You wipe out your phone to call the fire department when you see the girl in the same cocktail dress crawl out of the car, dress pulled up to her waist, barefoot and mascara streaming down her face. She’s violently beating his clutch against the ground, desperate to put out the flames while your boyfriend slams the door open on the other side and throws himself out full force onto the asphalt of the busy street. He looks up and sees the anger in your eyes.

“Hey, babe.”

“I-I-can-” he stutters violently. His face was red in anger and blood dripping from his nose due to the face-first collision with the freshly paved street.

“We’re over.”

You do him the favor of calling the fire department for his car and walk off as soon as you hear the sirens of the firetruck. You didn’t have anything to do with it. No need to watch the fallout when you had nothing to do with the disaster. Besides, your soda’s getting cold, you wanted to drink that before it got Luke-warm. You ended up dropping off the crap and walking to the 24-7 grocery store a little farther in the other direction to get ice cream. Standing in the frozen aisle, in nothing but your pajamas, bright red crocs, and moist eyes, you try and decide between the weird, nuanced flavors that all taste like vanilla anyhow.

You look up towards the top shelf when you notice the woman leaning over you. She’s deathly pale, skin as pale as paper and lipstick so red it glowed compared to everything else. Her huge hat would make a shadow on her face if it weren’t propped right above her hairline.

“So, did you enjoy the show sweet-heart,” she whispers in your ear. You feel her breath on your neck and her gaze freezes your heart. “You didn’t think that his car catching on fire was a happy accident now did you?”

You turn around, only not to see her behind you, but on the fogged-up glass doors on the other side of the aisle. “Did you really think that I’d be standing right behind you?” Her question is almost taunting.

“Who are you?”

She breathes into her elegant pipe only to blow out to re-fog the glass before staring dead into your eyes and saying the words that changed your life forever. “I’m your guardian demon.”

You honestly thought you were losing your mind, seeing this woman in the glass, telling you she was a demon who set your ex’s car on fire. (It felt odd to call him that, you had been dating him for three years). Her elegant leg steps through the glass, her dress riding up to just below her knee before it hit the ground and the rest of her flowed into our realm as smoothly as her dress swayed when she walked over to you.

She was almost twice your height, and the view from where she stood in front of you made her feel even more so tall. “So mortal, what do you have to say, knowing that you have a five-hundred-year-old all-powerful demon protecting you?”

“What happened to my guardian angel?”

She scoffs. “You never had one. Most people nowadays have guardian angels, in fact, I’ve only heard of one other mortal who hasn’t had one that’s alive right now.”

“What do you mean?” You can’t help but ask. There’s an entire world of things you didn’t understand. Angels. Demons. Hell, even bigfoot could be real for all you know.

“Well, darling, there is a very simple answer to that question: there are only so many angels for so many mortals, and so sometimes a few slip through the cracks of the system, and that’s where we step in.” She moves around to the refrigerator next to you and inspects the sorbets. “Despite what the church tells you, us demons love humans. They’re a claim to social status. You bring a human home, and you’re viewed as wealthy, famous even.”

“So that’s what you get out of taking a person’s soul in a deal.”

She turns to you. “When I what now?”

“Ya’ know,” you say, “a person makes a deal with a demon in exchange for money or fame, and when they die their soul belongs to the demon and they’re doomed to eternal hell yada-yada-yada.”

“Is that what they’re teaching you, now.”

“At least that’s what my mother says. I didn’t really believe in any of this stuff till you stepped out of the door and said you set my ex’s car on fire.”

“I would have done it sooner, but you looked so happy with him, it was difficult to pull that away from you,” she sighs before standing up to her full height, “that woman he was with was going to give you HPV and I’d prefer the human I fought tooth and nail over to not get an STD. I would never have let that stupid-man-thing touch you had I known he would cheat on you with a mortal so… infected.” What an interesting word to decide to land on.

She turns and waltzes back across the aisle with a grace that has long been lost to time. “And besides, you’re better off without him, with him off your mind you’ll be able to take that new project on at work and get that raise you’ve been needing so badly.”

You’re still trying to process this. “You mentioned that you only heard of one other mortal with a demon guardian. Who is he?”

“His name doesn’t matter, all I really care about is that damn man-child, Heisenberg, is watching him, which means he won’t be alive much longer.”

“Do you kill us?”

She puts her hand to her chest and looks genuinely offended before her features soften when she realizes you had never met a demon in your entire life not to mention even believing in them. “We would never. Our humans are like our children, and while we may not be able to subtle pull strings to protect those that we watch over, we do have our more… direct ways of protecting them.”

“Like setting his car on fire.”

“I’ve done worse things to keep you safe.”

Your face pales, but your curiosity brightens your eyes. “Like what?”

“Your so demand, child, but remember when lightning struck the tree in your backyard, and it fell and landed on your neighbor fifteen or so years ago?”

You can’t formulate words.

“Or how your car broke down on the side of the road so you couldn’t reach the hotel you booked?”

“You did that!”

“They were going to steal your luggage!” She scoffs before taking a long drag from her pipe. “Anymore, questions?”

“Is Jesus real?”

“I wasn’t there for that, and if he was, he hasn’t left his fluffy little sky bed since being nailed to that goddamn cross.”

“One more.”

“It better not be stupid, darling.”

“What ice cream should I get?”

Her soft smile returns. “Get the java-chip, but the one right behind the front one, there’s a little extra than usual in that container.”

#lady dimitrescu #alcina x reader #alcina dimitrescu #dimitrescu x reader #demon dimitrescu #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #resident evil x reader

113 notes · View notes

bffsoobin · 4 years

Text

Apartment 370

↳everything about your apartment was perfect. Aside from your neighbor. Choi Soobin has become the bane of your existence. You can’t go a single day without looking over your shoulder for your misleadingly handsome neighbor. Just how many petty pranks does he think he can get away with?

➤ enemies to lovers!au, neighbors!au, arguments, petty behavior, swearing, fluff

Word Count: 3,062

Requested?: yes

Warnings: none really other than swearing and Soobin kind of being an ass. I also didn’t proof read or edit this, as per usual.

A/N: To be honest I’m feeling a little unsure about this? I loved the concept and I’m very glad that a lovely follower requested it but I feel like lately all of my writing has started out really well and then just got progressively worse? Like all of the endings I write are just kind of lame? Just a weird insecurity I’ve been encountering lately. So please leave me some feedback on what you think about this!

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

You loved your apartment. It was small, but just right for you to live in. The shower had hot water, your bedroom had a beautiful window for your plants to sit on and the wifi connection was always working well. You even only had to travel up two flights of stairs if your elevator stopped working. There were a lot of pros to living at your complex. But there was one, massive, glaring and obnoxiously loud con. Choi Soobin. When he had moved in next to you, you tried to be nice. You knocked on his door and introduced yourself; making some kind of lame joke about borrowing sugar.

He didn’t laugh. He just introduced himself back and apologized for not having any sugar. Apologized? Had he really missed the joke that bad? Your delivery had been impeccable. Despite his charming face and annoyingly adorable style, you decided there was no way you could be friends with someone who didn’t understand a classic joke.

Soobin must have decided there was a reason he didn’t like you either, because just about a week into being neighbors he began to wreak havoc. He played music as loud as it possibly could be at the weirdest times of the day and yelled at his television way too much no matter what he was watching. It seemed like every day you had to storm over and knock on his door to complain. This went on for weeks until he finally agreed to stop when you threatened to involve your burly landlord in the matter.

For a few days, you enjoyed peace and quiet. You came and went from work without seeing him, took naps in silence and remembered how it felt to cook in your own kitchen without the sound of a twenty something year old man screaming at reruns of Survivor as background music.

As they say, ignorance is bliss, because little did you know Soobin’s silence was about to erupt into a new, massive volcano of stupidity. One night you woke up around 4 am to the sound of scratching coming from the wall that connected your and Soobin’s bedrooms. You were already annoyed at the fact that you had to be up at 7am to pick up an early shift for your slacking coworker, so you didn’t have it in you to just roll over and go back to bed. You couldn’t have if you wanted to anyway because the scratching noises were only getting more and more persistent. You flung yourself out of bed with a groan. Pets were allowed here, and it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that Soobin had gotten a cat who decided to be a little extra scratchy.

You poured yourself a glass of water in the kitchen, hoping to clear your mind and sort your thoughts. In the silence of the night, you could hear Soobin’s panicked voice through the thin walls. It sounded like he was on the phone with someone, as you could hear pauses as if he were listening to someone else. What a weird fucking dude, you thought. With eyes still drooping you walked back to your bedroom. The cat would have to be done scratching at the wall by now, right?

Wrong. The same consistent noise that would surely haunt your dreams still persisted. Knowing Soobin was awake gave you enough grounds to throw on a sweatshirt over your sleep clothes and go knock on his door.

When it swung open, you could see just how distraught he was. His usually fluffy hair was flat and knotted and his eyes were sporting huge dark circles that only made the panic in them amplified. Wait, panic?

“Y/N, I’m really sorry but you need to leave,” he had the door open just far enough to stick his head and shoulders out, as if he were trying to hide something.

“No, Soobin. I heard your cat scratching at the wall and it’s annoying the hell out of me. I can’t sleep. Can’t you lock it in the bathroom or something?” His face scrunched in confusion.

“A cat? I don’t have a cat.” Your insides boiled with hatred at the idea of him trying to lie his way out of this.

“Listen up Choi. Unless you have a dragon in your bedroom scratching the shit out of the walls, I don’t want to deal with your lies. Just take care of it! I need my beauty sleep and you and your noisy cat aren’t helping at all.” Soobin’s face paled and for a second you thought that you had finally won. And then Soobin said:

“It’s not a cat. It’s a racoon.”

You almost fell onto your ass right in the hallway. Soobin’s eyes sparked with a type of mirth you never thought such an admittedly gorgeous face could possess.

“I’m calling the landlord.” You snapped the door shut in his face and turned away.

That had apparently been the final straw for Soobin. The next day when you got back from work, you found a handwritten “RACOON HATER” sign taped to your door. What you found inside was somehow even more unsettling. Your whole living room and kitchen had been essentially trashed. Throw pillows and blankets were thrown haphazardly on the floor, many of your photos and art you had on the walls were switched around or taken down altogether. And the worst of it all; everything was covered in a fine dust of glitter. It was a struggle to find a single surface that wasn’t covered in glitter, really.

A new type of dislike for Choi Soobin brewed in your stomach. Hatred. Your kitchen counter- also covered in a dust of chunky silver glitter- became the victim of your frustrations as you slammed your hands down. It would cost you so much time and money to get all the glitter out of your living spaces, let alone the fact that you'd inevitably be leaving some behind for the next poor soul to rent this apartment. Gritting your teeth, you went to work with your poor little vacuum.

You had only managed to clean your coffee table and half of your couch before you heard a series of loud knocks on your door. You grumbled at the idea of having to take a pause in your work but you trudged over to the door anyway.

To be honest, you had no idea who you were expecting to see behind your apartment door-which you belatedly realized was still decorated with Soobin’s handmade sign- but you didn’t think it would be the man himself.

Soobin stood in the hallway, picture perfect as always. His face was tan and smooth and free from any possible blemishes. Had he plucked his eyebrows? They were groomed to neat perfection. His tall frame was dwarfed by a fuzzy blue sweatshirt that was easily a size too big. If you had met him by chance on the street, you would have fallen in love in an instant. But you knew better. You knew he was the one who reduced your once lovely apartment into the mess it was now.

“Oh, sorry,” he feigned innocence, “are you busy?” He didn’t even try to hide the smirk that blossomed on his face. A grumble of a curse fell from your lips before you responded.

“Yeah. Some asshole decided to break into my apartment and spread glitter on everything. So yes, I’m sort of busy,” you laced your voice with enough venom to kill a horse, and it seemed as if Soobin had gotten the message as he shrunk back into the hallway a bit. His mouth opened and shut in rapid succession as he struggled to find the perfect retort.

“I-” he cut himself off as his soft eyes became hyper focused on a spot on your face. Suddenly you were a new combination of concerned and offended. His hand hesitantly rose toward your face before the softness of his fingertips made contact with your cheek and brushed something away. You held your breath the entire time, unsure if you should be upset or worried or utterly lost in the way his skin felt against yours. The contact was brief but still made your skin burn bright red. When his hand left your cheek, you saw that he had brushed away a piece of glitter that was now resting delicately on his fingertip.

“Sorry,” he hurried out, “I just wanted to get the glitter off of your face.” His whole demeanor had changed, and you were sure that whatever plan he had in mind when he knocked on your door had vanished.

“Okay, weirdo,” you tried to ignore the way you were yearning to feel his touch again, “I’m still busy so can you like, go away?” Upon hearing your words he turned away to head for his apartment door with ears as red as you’d ever seen them.

Although the glitter incident was now months behind you, you still often found pieces in random spots around your home. And Soobin was still a pain in your ass. He had been quiet for close to two weeks after your odd encounter and you were almost convinced that he had changed his ways. You were quickly proven wrong when he conned the man who works the front desk into hiding your mail for a week straight; making you subsequently late to paying some of your bills.

More recently, a new person had moved into the apartment across the way. The first day you met him, you were busying yourself with taping up Soobin’s door with bright pink duct tape from the outside. Your new neighbor-who you learned to be named Yeonjun- had squatted down right next to you and offered to help tear pieces of the tape.

You and Yeonjun had become fast friends. He was incredibly charming and willing to lend an ear every time you needed to complain about Soobin. For a while, you were almost able to forget the fact that the devil incarnate lived next door to you. While your work schedules tended to be a little crazy, the two of you managed to talk for at least a few minutes every day. He helped you gain some sanity back within your apartment hallway.

Despite also being friends with Soobin, Yeonjun never took sides in your little feud; but you were always secretly worried that somehow Soobin would put a bug in his ear. One day, about two months after Yeonjun had moved in, he knocked on your door while you were in the middle of making dinner. You invited him in but he hesitated.

“I just came to talk to you,” he bit into his bottom lip, “I really like you. But I don’t see us ever being more than friends. I hope you understand.” You scrunched your eyebrows. Where was this coming from?

“Uh okay? I know that. I don’t like you...like that, Yeonjun. Did you hit your head or something?” You were seriously confused. Yeonjun’s eyes widened comically.

“Well Soobin said that-“ as soon as the words fell out of his mouth Yeonjun put together the invisible puzzle pieces. His face morphed into extreme regret. “I’m so sorry. I should have known it was part of your weird prank war. You should have seen how convincing his acting is though, he really had me thinking you had a crush on me.” You scoffed at the idea of Soobin beginning to spread rumors to one of your closest friends just for the hell of it. If Yeonjun hadn’t been mature enough to address it right away, you could have gone through weeks of confusion about why he was avoiding you.

You looked back at your kitchen, catching sight of the steaming bowl of ramen you’d just finished making. Sighing, you shut your door behind you to stand in the hall with Yeonjun. He looked sheepish in your presence as you laid a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m not mad at you, Yeonjun. I’m going to talk to the bane of my existence,” you gestured toward the door with the shiny ‘370’ plaque. “Just don’t bother calling the landlord if you hear yelling.” As soon as you heard the sound of Yeonjun’s door snapping shut, you laid into Soobin’s door with a heavy knock. As soon as it was opened far enough, you wedged your body inside and subsequently sent Soobin stumbling backwards.

“How dare you?” You roared, throwing your hands in the air dramatically. “I’m fine with your petty pranks and all the other stupid shit you pull against me because that’s all between the two of us. At least it’s funny and gives me something to think about in my free time. But when you start to involve my friends? That’s way too far. There was no reason to rope Yeonjun into this. He’s your friend too, Choi.” Soobin seemed surprised that you had come in with so much to say right off the bat.

“Y/N it’s really not that big of a deal. I just wanted to see if you actually had the capacity to have a crush on someone. And you’ve been spending so much time with Yeonjun I figured he’d be the perfect person to test my theory with, plus the humiliation factor of him not liking you back would have kept me entertained for days” he sat down on his couch casually, “I guess he had to break it to you that you aren’t as flirty and irresistible as you think you are, huh?” The air crackled with tension as you gawked down at his sprawled form.

“What are you even saying? Yeonjun and I are just friends. And why does it matter to you if I have the capacity for a crush or not? You hate me. If you’re just waiting until I get a boyfriend so that you can come in and ruin it all with your shitty vendetta then you’re much worse of a person than I ever pegged you for!” Tears welled in your eyes but you wiped at them angrily. Out of all the fights and disagreements you’d ever had with Soobin, this was the first one that stirred an odd emotion in the pit of your stomach. You were tired of the back and forth. Soobin seemed oddly alarmed at the formation of your tears as he got up from the comfort of his couch and approached you like a wounded dog.

“Trust me, I have no grand plan to ruin your life at every turn even though that’s what you think. You spend so much time with Yeonjun, I thought maybe you liked him. I knew he didn’t like you because when I told him that I-” Soobin actually clapped his own giant hand over his mouth as the words hung in the air between you. Anger shot through your mind at the idea that he didn’t even have the guts to relay the entire story.

“You what? You’re so wrapped up in your own little world but you can’t even finish telling me what you said to someone else? I can’t believe you, honestly,” you turned and made your way toward his door, wanting nothing more than to go home and take a hot shower. Soobin’s hand clasped around your wrist as he gently yanked you away from the exit. His strong grip kept you standing right in front of him and although you struggled against him, there was no use.

“I told him that I like you.” For a second, you thought that you had misheard him, but he continued. “I told Yeonjun that I like you. And he told me that I should go for it, because he doesn’t see you as more than a friend. But I freaked out so I told him that you liked him. I knew you probably actually didn’t.”

Your brain was short circuiting at the confession. Choi Soobin, who had complicated your life beyond belief since the day he moved in months ago liked you?

“But,” your eyebrows drew together as you tried to comprehend it all, “you hate me, Soobin. We have a whole...rivalry! There’s no way you actually have feelings for me. I swear if this is just another prank I’ll shove my hand so far down your throat-“ Soobin threw his hands up in front of his body in a form of defense.

“No! I don’t hate you, Y/N. I’ve liked you since the day we met. I just thought the pranks and petty stuff was like...our way of hanging out? That’s why I kept doing them. I thought you were having fun with me.” It was ridiculous how much he sounded like a little boy explaining his side of the story to a teacher. It was even more ridiculous that the corner of your brain where you’d stuffed all your feelings for Soobin began to overflow.

“Haven’t you ever heard that there’s much better ways to tell someone you like them? We could have spent the last 11 months not at each other’s throats if you would have just manned up and found out I like you too.” You saw the exact moment that the words finally processed and his entire face lit up with the recognition.

A familiar, deeply dimpled smile grew across his face as his skin reddened. He clasped his hands in front of him and swayed back and forth on his feet. Before you could think to stop him, he leaned in close enough that you worried he could hear your heart thumping against your ribs.

“You like me too?”

“Yes, Soobin. I like you too. And I would like you even more if you stopped your stupid pranks,” you tapped his nose with your pointer finger twice. He nodded eagerly with his tongue sticking out from between his teeth slightly.

“Deal,” he stuck his hand out to you and you raised an eyebrow to silently ask if he was serious. His hand didn’t waver, so you grasped it firmly and pulled him toward your body until you could wrap him into a tight hug. It was an odd feeling, soaking in Soobin’s scent as he gently rocked the two of you back and forth in his apartment. Odd, but good. Perfect.

1K notes · View notes