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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years ago

Note

88. I dropped my watch in an open grave, jumped in to get it, and while you were visiting your dead grandmother, you saw me climbing out of the grave (credit to @enchantedcass)

Indruck, sfw or nsfw, please!

Here it is! This is technically SFW, though there's some discussion of sex and a bit of steaminess at the end.

“Here, these are fresh.” Indrid sets the wildflowers on the small, stone marker, so covered with moss and worn with age that no one can read it. He only knows where to find her because he watched from the Barrens as she was put in the ground.

Temperance Leeds. His grandmother, the one who narrowly avoided accusations of witchcraft, the only human who ever set foot deep enough in the trees to bring him food, to drape blankets over his shaking shoulders. She never forgot him, and he shall return the favor as long as he lives.

There’s a thump of earth behind him and he whirls; it’s midnight in a graveyard, who could possibly be here? The ghosthunters usually wait for darker nights to come. In his periphery, a hand rises from an open grave.

Great, if the dead rise he’ll probably be blamed for that too.

“Fuck” A young man pulls himself from the grave, staring at his cell phone, “c’mon, please don’t be fuckin cracked.” Light illuminates his face and sighs, “thank fuckin christ.”

The light disappears and he blinks, eyes adjusting to the dark. Indrid, too caught up in working out why he’s in the ground, hasn’t bothered to hide as he should. The human notices.

“Uh. I. Uh. Dropped my phone checkin the time. I, uh, definitely wasn’t smokin in the off limits, uh, fuck, graveyard I, uh, I fuck, promise I’ll clean up my beer bottles I mean, uh, fuck.” He scratches the back of his neck, “please don’t call the cops?”

“Can you see me?” Indrid cocks his head.

“Yeah?”

“And you are worried about me alerting the police?”

“I mean, guess we’re both breakin the rules but I kinda figured you were staff here because of the clothes.” He gestures to the ensemble Indrid cobbled together from clothes lines.

Indrid stands, stretches his wings, flicks his tail and watches the human slowly notice the color of his eyes and the outline of his horns.

“Fuck. Look, man, whatever you are, I swear I won’t tell, I’m just tryin to keep busy, please, my folks are already worried about me-”

“I’m not going to harm you.” Lightning cracks through the sky, flashing his shadow across the frightened human, “I just wanted you to see me clearly.”

Rain patters on the leather of his wings. The man looks up at the sky, face seeming even younger as it fills with resignation. Indrid recognizes it’s source.

“You have nowhere to go, do you?”

“No. I, uh, decided I wanted to get outta town and never come back, made it as far as here before I ran outta money.”

Indrid offers his hand, watches the man’s face zero in on the claws, “You may spend the night with me, if you wish. My home is a ways into the woods, but it is dry and warm.”

“Okay.” The young man replies softly, letting Indrid help him up as the dirt turns to mud. Indrid shelters him as best he can with a wing until they reach the cottage. Indrid kneels by the fireplace, lumps kindling into a pile as the young man sets his backpack on a chair.

“Nice place. Gotta admit I was expectin somethin more dilapidated. On account of the whole, uh, y’know.” He gestures to Indrid’s horns and cloven feet.

“It was much like you expected, once upon a time. But a human named Arlo Thacker took pity on me and helped me build it with the aid of a few friends. There.” The fire flickers merrily, “that should keep us warm. You may--ah, what are you doing?”

The young man has removed his jacket and shirt, revealing what Indrid recognizes from human magazines as a sports bra. His hands are now on the fly of his jeans.

“You said I was supposed to, uh, spend the night with you?”

“Yes, in that you may sleep here to be safe from the weather and any who might wish you harm. Not so that you may keep me warm. So to speak.”

“You’re not gonna fuck me?”

Indrid flicks his tail, surprised, “You would offer yourself to me, looking like this?”

The man nods in a way that suggests he’s run a calculus in his head and decided Indrid’s desire was less abhorrent than some other option. Indrid crosses the small living room, bringing them face to face. He reaches out a hand, runs his claws through black hair until the human closes his eyes. Then his hand slides to cup his cheek, one nail tracing fond little shapes on the skin as the man sighs. Against his better judgement, he tilts his head down to nose the dark locks; smoke lingers there, just as alcohol hangs on his breath. He’s so warm, so willing and so very soft. Indrid wants nothing more than to undress him further, carry him to his cozy bedroom and discover what sounds come when he fits their bodies together.

“What’s your name?”

“Duck. It’s a nickname.”

“A charming one. But no, Duck, I will not take such advantage of you. I may be called a devil, but I do not believe in making one trade their body for basic kindness. Come along, the bedroom will allow you more privacy.”

“Thanks.” Duck sways, and Indrid senses a weariness he’s not certain a good nights rest will fix. Tomorrow he will be sure to be gone when Duck awakens, leaving his dry clothes and a map back to town outside his door so that he can do what Indrid can dare to; leave the Barrens and find a life waiting for him in the world beyond.

-----------------------------------------------------------

There are some days when Duck thinks his encounter in the woods was a dream. The hand-drawn map he keeps folded among his books tells him otherwise.

He’d come home after that night, made his peace with Kepler for a few years more, and often awoke from dreams where he was pushing through brush in pursuit of a strange shadow. He never cites these as a reason for his taking a job at a state forest in New Jersey that includes the Barrens.

Now, he’s decided to upgrade from his apartment to a house in the woods that’s been listed for over two years and is a goddamn steal because of that.

“As you can see, there’s another residence across the clearing; that’s why the company that built this lovely dwelling was able to do so. They intended to build a nice little community here.”

“The fact that ain’t happened got anythin to do with the reason I gotta stay the night before I make an offer?”

Ned’s smile falters, “Indeed, dear boy. I like you, so I’ll be forthcoming; we’ve never seen anyone in the other house. But they have most certainly seen us.”

Duck settles in for an uneventful afternoon and evening, reads his book and considers whether he could fit some windowboxes on the house for garden space. It’s not until it’s pitch black outside that it starts; footsteps on the roof, followed shortly by red eyes peering in through the living room window.

He opens the front door, the undergrowth rustling hurriedly to his left.

“Uh, hey there. You may not remember me but, uh, we’ve actually met before. About ten years ago. You uh, you let me stay the night?”

Only some crickets, unaware of the tension in the air, reply to him. Then the bushes grow two, ruby red flowers.

“Duck?”

“Yep. Y’know, you never told me your name. If we’re gonna be neighbors, feels like I oughta know what to call you.”

A shadow moves from the trees, stopping when it reaches the light spilling from the windows. He’s as Duck remembers him; short horns sprouting from a mop of silver hair, claws on his fingers and black wings folded on his back. His skin is a swirl of ashy grey and ember red. And his face, while striking, is human. That was the part that always tripped Duck up; the Jersey Devil was always drawn with a goat or horse face, making him question whether that’s who he met all those years ago.

“Indrid. My name is Indrid.”

“Nice to see you again, Indrid.”

The other man smiles, and Duck knows what will replace the mad hunt through the brush in his dreams, “Likewise.”

-------------------------------------------------

“You know, she had three more children after me. None of them suffered the same curse.” Indrid kicks idly at the long decayed remains of his family home. Their nightly walk brough them close to it this time around, and Duck had been curious. His interest is never prurient or morbid; Duck wants to get to know Indrid, not his legend.

“That fuckin sucks.”

Indrid chuckles, “I do enjoy how you put things so plainly.”

“I’m serious, what kind of folks put their kid out when it’s a baby? I mean, mine weren't always the fuckin parents of the year but at least they understood lookin after me was part of the deal.”

“It was a different time.”

“Fine, but I’m still judgin the hell outta them.”

Indrid looks fondly down at the human, “That’s as fair a fate for them as any.”

---------------------------------------

“It don’t weird you out?” Juno indicates Indrid’s house from where she and Duck are sitting on his front porch. The twin Adirondack chairs are a new addition, as the warmer months mean he and Indrid spend ample time trying to see the stars through the treetops.

“Nah. Indrid’s a real good neighbor when he’s around. He’s uh, from an old family so he don’t gotta work. Part of why he keeps such weird hours.” Duck wishes he could introduce them; it’d be nice for the three of them to have dinner before Juno heads south again. But Indrid has several centuries of shitty human encounters that dig under his skin like splinters, and Duck will never push him to ignore that pain. Besides, there will be other visits.

The summer and fall pass in much the same ways last winter and spring did. Duck works in the park, visits friends in town, runs errands, and generally goes about all the mundane moments that make up a life. Then he spends his evenings in one of the two cottages, or walking alongside Indrid on long-overgrown pathways.

The hardest part of it all is not mentioning Indrid in every single conversation; Duck is already tempting disaster being unable to lie and the neighbor of a cryptid. He doesn’t want to also drive his friends up the wall talking about said cryptids art, or his laugh, or the little herb garden Duck is helping him grow.

They’re in the stretch of days between Christmas and New Year, and Indrid has just finished opening the gift Duck brought him; a thick, soft sweater that Duck stitched a “I” into the front of along with a few little pine tree patches. Indrid smiles at him and notices that Duck’s sweater is done in a similar fashion (in fact, everyone in the Newton family wears one like this). The grin turns bashful and Indrid rubs his cheek against the fabric.

“Thank you, Duck. I, ah, I’m sorry I do not have anything to give you. Holidays are not my strong suit.”

“Just gettin to see you is enough.” Duck stands to refill his tea, Indrid’s gaze caressing his back as he moves through the room. He almost hadn’t gone home, had offered to stay and keep Indrid company. But his friend insisted, reminding him that while it felt odd to be without each other, they both had spent plenty of time apart and been fine. All the same, when he got home yesterday Indrid was knocking on his door before he even put his bag down.

Duck didn’t mind at all. No more than he minds when Indrid sleeps with his head in his lap or strokes his hair while they read on the couch.

The cryptid stokes the fire as the snow gives way to sleet, streaking the windows with icy drops.

“Goodness, what a frigid night.”

“No kiddin.” Duck sets his mug down, turns just as Indrid gets to his feet, “can’t say I mind, kinda reminds me of the night we met.”

The colors of Indrid’s skin make a blush difficult to spot, but Duck’s learned which dip of his head and quirk of his lip means it’s there.

“‘Drid? Did you ever think about that night? Because I did. I, uh, I do.”

“Yes.” Indrid’s tail twitches.

“What do you think about?”

“I, ah, I...you first.”

Duck crosses the creaking floorboards, looking up into red eyes, “I think about how safe it felt when you brought me here. How when I woke up, I felt like this was some kinda weird sign, that I needed to rethink some things and that’s how come I went home, which turned out to be a good call. And” he smirks, “I think about how I was drunk and desperate enough to ask the fuckin Jersey Devil if he was gonna fuck me.”

Indrid blushes once more, studies the ground as Duck touches his shoulder, “I must say that is the part that dominated most of my thoughts. Not right away; for the first few weeks when I thought of you I only hoped you were alright. Then I would let myself imagine that I had been devilish indeed.”

Gently, Duck raises Indrid’s hand and cradles his cheek with it as they did that night, “What would you have done, devil of mine?”

A snicker, “I will answer that only if you tell me whether you are angling for the demonstration that I think you are.”

“Damn right.” He closes his eyes, heart swelling and skin prickling as Indrid steps closer and nuzzles the top of his head.

“I would have asked if you were tired of running. If you wanted a home. And would you like to make it here, so that we could keep each other company. I know in my heart this would have been a selfish offer. I am glad I did not make it, did not trap you here, resign you to a fate that was not what you would have chosen freely.”

“I’m pretty fuckin free these days.”

“And that all on it’s own fills me with joy. But yes, there were nights where I wished I’d been selfish.”

Duck tips his head up, brushing their noses together, “Say you made that offer and I accepted. What then?”

Indrid cups his face with both hands. The kiss is chaste, Indrid sighing against his lips as he twines his claws in his hair. Duck wraps his arms around his waist, lightly teasing the edge of one wing.

“Then” Indrid murmurs, “I’d carry you to bed.”

“Yeah, that part woulda been easier when I was seventeEEN” he laughs as Indrid scoops him into a bridal carry with ease. He’s never been in Indrid’s bed, so he giggles again when he discovers it’s ten times squishier than his own. The cryptid sinks onto it with him, guiding him so they’re face to face on their sides.

“May I undress you?”

“Knock yourself out, darlin.” Affection deep and warm as a thermal spring wells up in him as Indrid carefully removes his sweater and shirt before dainty setting his claws to work on his fly. When Duck is down to his boxers, hunger enters Indrid’s eyes for the first time.

“Oh you are divine.” One hand strokes his leg, pausing at the crease of his thigh each time it reaches there. The other curves along his belly up to his chest before caressing his face, the black claws making his skin seem oddly pale and very fragile in comparison.

Duck touches the hem of Indrid’s shirt and the cryptid freezes.

“‘Drid? Is this okay?”

“Do you...truly wish to see me unclothed?”

Duck surges forward to kiss him as he rucks up his shirt, the movement a sufficient answer for Indrid to raise his arms and let him pull the sweater and battered shirt beneath it away. His skin here is the same swirl of colors as the rest of him, but there’s a dusting of peach fuzz fur across it. It’s delightful under Duck’s tongue, though the little keen of pleasure from Indrid is even better.

“It’s strange” Indrid traces hearts and zig-zags with his claws along Duck’s sides as the human continues kissing his chest and neck, “I thought that seeing you like this would so overwhelm me with need that I’d beg to have you this instant. But it seems I feel much the same way I did in my fantasies of that night.”

“Oh” Duck reaches up to toy with the base of a horn and Indrid groans happily before continuing.

“Had you stayed, knowing you were now mine, I’d have taken my time. Nestled you under the blankets, opened you up on my tongue until you were weak from pleasure. That way it would be easy to take you when I was ready. Perhaps on your back, so you had me to hold onto if you needed. Or on your belly, so you would be even more sheltered from the cold, cruel world by my body and wings. And I’d stay there for hours, make up for decade after decade of touch starvation by glutting myself on your young, willing body.”

“Holy fuck, ‘Drid.” Duck pulls him down into a kiss, “christ that’s a fuckin good image.”

“Mmmm” the cryptid licks his cheek, “it is, isn’t it. But since you are not going anywhere, and we are not limited by the confines of my imagination, I am even less inclined to rush. Will you indulge me with just kisse tonight?”

Duck brushes silver hair from his forehead, planting a kiss there when he’s done, “Of course.”

----------------------

The morning brings several feet of snow and announcement that those who can stay in their homes and shelter from the ongoing storm should. The pines drop heaps of white across the ground, and frost makes the windows so icy it’s better to draw the curtains and stay curled up in the dark.

Duck doesn’t mind at all.

#indrid cold/ duck newton #indruck #meet ugly #monster boyfriend

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buckys-forgotten-plum · 4 years ago

Text

A Witchy Kinda Love

Pairing: Witch!Bucky x Witch!Reader (Magic!AU)

Prompt: The world you lived in was known to be full of magic and strange, otherworldly things... But you knew true love was just an old witch's tale even if your familiar insisted otherwise...

Warnings: swearing, fluff, Bucky in cute outfits, way too much italicization, and also this thing is long as fuck. (10,410 words...oopsies)

A/N: Okay this got wayyyy outta hand but who the fuck cares? not me. I would love to give a HUGE SHOUTOUT to @buckybarney who helped a lot in giving me the confidence and drive to finish this fic as well as @smutsonian who created this dope as mood board and also helped me edit a lil bit. You guys make me so happy and I love and appreciate you both so much<3

✸ ✴ ✦

✸ ✴ ✦

“Calcifer will you please come help me with this?” your exasperated voice could be heard from the balcony of your studio apartment as you struggled to balance the hoard of glass bottles in your arms.

Not a moment later, a small fox came trotting onto the (very overgrown) terrace, “Ya know I have things to do too. I’m not your butler,”

You scoffed at your familiar's grumbled complaint before handing him a couple bottles to hold in his mouth and wrap his tail around, “I know you’re not my butler Cal. But I got you that essence of toad the other day so the least you could do is help me organize my potion materials for a bit.”

The fox let out a low growl and walked back into your small apartment while you followed behind him, “You know how hard it is for me to form opposable thumbs lady? It’s gonna take a lot more than essence of toad for me to comply,”

You glared playfully at the fox before sighing and rolling your eyes, knowing exactly what the sly creature was trying to get you to do, “Calcifer if you want pheasant for dinner just ask,”

There was no response, just the quiet clinking of bottles rolling to the floor as you and your partner began to sort through everything. You really need to start organizing your stuff better. Last week you mixed up your newt toes with skinks and almost blew up your home, so it’s safe to say that your clutter has hit a breaking point. You left Calcifer to sit on your frameless bed as he sorted your bottles to go back out onto your small terrace, breathing in the scent of all of your plants that had happily covered every inch they possibly could. You figured it was as good a time as any to harvest all the herbs you’d need for the month and bottle them up for safe keeping. Quietly humming to yourself, you went around plucking the healthiest looking leaves, sprigs, and sprouts you could find, setting each pile onto the antique writers desk you had put out there as a space for your potion making.

“Hey Calcifer do you know where I put my Ever-Writing Quill?” You question, brows furrowing as you dig through the drawers of your desk.

“You don’t remember? You sat on it last week and snapped it in half!” The fox’s response was followed by a string of cackles and snorts as he laughed to himself about your misfortune.

You let out a loud groan of frustration, tilting your head to the sky and stomping your foot in a small childish fit. “Why didn’t you put it on my shopping list?” You ask, walking back inside to glare at the creature comfortably sitting on your bed.

Calcifer smiled widely, his pointy teeth fully on show in a sly grin, “oopsies, my bad!” he raised what would be his paws but are now little hands due to his helpful transfiguration powers, and held them in an innocent shrug.

You squint your eyes at the reynard but hold your tongue, shoving your feet into a pair of leather boots. “Come on, you’re coming with me to the market so I can get a new quill,”

It didn’t take too long before you had gathered everything you needed, making sure to grab your sweater as the weather hadn’t gotten much warmer in the past months and you absolutely hated to be cold. It only took a stern glare and a threat to have salad for dinner to convince Calcifer to go with you. Though you didn’t miss the petty and painful nip to your calf as you walked out of your door and into the dank hallway of your apartment building.

✸ ✴ ✦

The sky was colored a dark grey with intimidating clouds, blocking out any chance of sun or warmth as you walked down the streets of your small town. You passed by cute little shops and a restaurant or two as you made your way to the market. Your boots stomped loudly on the cobblestone walkway, echoed by the light clicking of Calcifier’s nails while he trotted beside you.

Your town didn’t have many witches, but the non-magic residents were still fully supportive of you and all the other witches and warlocks that resided in the small rainy town of Adelaide. You had lived there for years and not once had you come in contact with what your community called “Salamers”, bigoted people who had hate filled vendettas against your kind. Many of your friends who had lived in bigger cities had told you about their horror stories involving bigoted people who had cursed (pun intended) and swore at them. Your friend Peter even told you about a man who had spit on him after finding out he was a witch.

The thoughts of such hateful actions caused a crease in your brow to form and it didn’t leave until you were at the small stone entrance to Wanda’s Magickal Menagerie, the only entrance to the market for miles. It was one of your favourite things about the magical world. The outside looked like just another building with pretty stone walls and a worn wooden sign displaying the name, but to anyone with a high enough magical presence, it was an entrance to the biggest market in the wiccan world. Hundreds of vendors were beyond that door, hidden away to a different space and time by a carefully constructed spell performed by the most powerful witches in existence.

You couldn’t help the excited pulse of your heart as you opened the door and stepped into what seemed like an entirely different universe. The hustle and bustle of busy shoppers instantly clouded your vision and ears. The air was warm and lighting low in the crowded alleyway that led to the entrance and exit of the marketplace. You took only a moment to get used to the different surroundings before setting off on your way to the real Wanda’s Magickal Menagerie.

It only took a few steps before you heard the loud yip of pain from your familiar, instantly making you whip around to see what happened, “I hate it here, Y/n! Everyone steps on my tail, it smells weird, It’s dark, everything is all muted because apparently witches only like the color red and I’m colorblind-”

“Alright ya baby c’mere,” you interrupted Cal’s whining, bending down and allowing him to jump up and wrap around your shoulders.

“People have no respect for familiars, it’s so uncool,” he grumbled into your ear, resting his snout on the ridge of your shoulder.

“I know, buddy. But you know how much I hate going out alone. I really appreciate you coming with me. When we’re done here we can go to the butcher and you can pick out what bird you want for tonight,” Your hand came up to softly scratch your friend behind his ear, soothing his nerves and continuing on your way to your final destination.

It didn’t take long before you arrived at a small wooden hut, a modest sign with an address hanging out front for advertisement to passersby. You quickly approached the shop and pushed the door open, entering the cozy and familiar atmosphere of Wanda’s business.

“Hey Y/n! Cally, hi baby!” Your entrance was met immediately with happy greetings from your long time friend.

“Hey Wanda,” you and Calcifer greet in unison, smiles adorning both your faces.

The red headed witch skipped towards you, wrapping you in a warm hug and lovingly petting the fox around your shoulders. “How’ve you guys been? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,”

“We’ve been trying to declutter the apartment. Y/n’s become such a hoarder.” Calcifer blurts out, letting one of his signature cackles break free.

“I am not! I’ve just been experimenting with my potions, so I have a lot more ingredients and supplies right now,” You hurriedly explain, not wanting to have your friend think of you as a crazy old witch with a hoarding problem.

Wanda lets out a quiet giggle at the pair of friends in front of her, finding the relationship between you and your familiar adorable, “What brings you in today? Did you lose your monkey paw again?”

You playfully roll your eyes at Wanda, “No, I uh... I broke my Ever-Writing Quill,” you admit, trying to fight the warmth that crept up your neck and cheeks.

Wanda let out a quick burst of laughter before turning around and leading you through the many shelves and tables of her shop, “Come on, I just got a fresh shipment in,”

✸ ✴ ✦

“Thanks Wanda! I’ll see you and Vis for brunch on Sunday,” You smile and give your friend a kiss on the cheek goodbye before exiting her shop.

“Alright Cal, is there anything else you need before we go? Do you want me to get you more fur oil? Are you good on that incense you like?”

“Yeah I think I’m okay, at this point I just want food,” He grumbled, lifting his head up from your shoulder and sniffing the air.

You nodded your head in understanding and began the trip back to where you first entered the marketplace. The walkways were absolutely packed; it was nearly impossible to keep from bumping into other shoppers. Calcifer could be heard grumbling profanities every time someone brushed or bumped against him. You couldn’t blame the poor creature, he was naturally anxious and didn’t like strangers, so making trips like these were never too fun for him. You were trying your best to avoid people, but luck was against you and as you were ducking out of the way of one man who looked exactly like Merlin, you ended up running right into someone else.

You fell right to the floor, Calcifer tumbling from your shoulder and sliding a few feet away due to the force, “Ah! Calcifer? Cal are you okay?”

“Shit! are you okay? I didn’t see you, I am so sorry,”

Ignoring the stranger above, you frantically look around for your lost friend and spot him a few feet away from you, curling up into a scared orange ball and shoving his snout under his hind leg to hide. You scramble over to him, scooping his small body into your arms and holding onto him tightly, “Oh Calcifer I’m so sorry! I should have never asked you to come with me, I know you hate it here and now look what happened,”

You couldn’t help the stress induced tears that welled in your eyes as you pet the shaking fox in your arms, “I’m okay, Y/n. Just a little shaken,” His voice was quiet and you knew he wasn’t being completely honest but you knew getting out of the crowded place was more important at that point.

A tall figure suddenly shadowed over you, making you cower out of instinct and scoot back a few paces, “Hey are you and your fox okay? Really, I didn’t see you. I should have been paying more attention, let me help you up,” A hand comes down offering to lift you from the dirty concrete.

With one arm tightly holding onto Calcifer, you use your other hand to grab onto the strangers and lift yourself up. “Thanks,” You mumble out quickly, keeping your head down and immediately walking away, your mind completely focused on getting the hell out of these cursed alleyways.

Once you had fallen out of the exit and back onto the cobblestone streets of Adelaide, you could finally take a deep breath. Leaning up against the cold stone wall near the entrance, you closed your eyes, sucking in the fresh air and gently petting the creature still firmly gripped in your arms.

A choked cry escapes you suddenly, “I am so sorry Calcifer,” You absolutely hated that you had caused your friend such a terrible experience. He could’ve gotten hurt, someone could’ve stolen him away from you, the street was so crowded you would’ve never found him again! Calcifer would’ve never forgiven you! Might not even forgive you now! Just the thought of it-

“Alright calm down kid... I’m perfectly fine. Paw hurts a little bit but, really, I’m okay,” the fox in your arms looked up at you, a small smile on his snout as he nuzzled into your hair.

“Are you sure? I can take you to the vet-” Before you can continue to worry about the injured animal, a deep voice sounds from above you.

“Uh hey...”

You quickly wipe the tears from your cheeks and look up, eyes widening in surprise as you stare into steely iris’s that seemed to have a mission on copying the sky that day. “H-hello,”

As you stared at the burly looking man in front of you, you couldn’t help but side eye his stature. Adorning all black with little glints of silver rings and buckles here and there, a few tiny scars marking his well-structured jaw and cheek bones, and good god those boots must be so heavy and-is that a metal hand peeking out from the long sleeve of his leather jacket?! This guy is too scary to be this attractive...

“I uh... I was the one to bump into you earlier. It’s totally my fault and I really didn’t mean for you to drop your fox like that-it’s just that my familiar took off and I just wasn’t paying attention and it seemed like a pretty bad fall and you were so focused on protecting your pet-” “He’s not a pet,” you spit out quickly, a stern glare etched into your features.

“R-right, right sorry-I just-I was-I misspoke...” he trailed awkwardly, roughly dragging a hand through brunette hair and grimacing at his own failure to compose a sensible response.

“Are you a witch?” you mumble out quietly, your glare softening into a more apprehensive, yet curious, stare.

“Uh yeah, yeah I’m only entry level though. My friend Sam helped me get into the market so I could get a few things but then...ya know”

You stood silently, not exactly sure of what this weirdo wanted from you. If he thought you were going to apologize he was very mistaken. What if he planned to rob you? To take Calcifer and run? The thought made your grip on the animal even more secure, if that were even possible.

“Is your arm okay?” Worried eyes gazed down at your arm and the man took a small step forward.

“What?” You try to flinch away from the soft grasp of his hand around your bicep, but only end up pushing yourself against the wall.

The man inspected the inflamed scrape that burned a path along your forearm and up to your elbow, “That looks pretty bad doll, do you want some medicine? I think I might have a little with me. Hey Sibi!”

“Holy shit!” A sharp intake of breath forced its way into your lungs as you saw a giant white wolf bound up to the man. Your breathing sped up, heartbeat following along with it as you gazed upon the giant beast.

“Do you mind? I gotta get into my bag,” He asked gently, the wolf immediately turning to give him easy access to a large pack that was slung over her back, “Thanks Sibi, can you go find Sam? Tell him I’ll be a bit longer than expected,” The wolf let out a gruff noise of agreement and nodded it’s head before heading back through the magical entrance.

The man turned back around and walked towards you once more. You didn’t flinch this time when he reached for your arm, careful to make sure you had a good grip on Cal before opening a bottle of light blue gel and tapping some out onto the palm of his hand, “My name is Bucky, by the way,”

“Okay,” you mumble out awkwardly, your anxious nature getting the best of you and blocking any form of friendly communication to come across while Bucky covers your wound with the gel.

“Her name is Y/n, I’m Calcifer,” You stare down incredulously at the fox, not expecting him to introduce you to this stranger.

Bucky smiled up at you and the fox, shiny white teeth on display, “Pretty name for a pretty girl,”

The comment instantly made your face heat up in embarrassment. “Thank y-you...”

Bucky straightened up after he was done dressing your wound, thankfully taking a step back to give you some space. Why wasn’t he leaving? Why did he care so much about some rando he ran into at the market? Maybe this was just a front to try and rob you...

“Well uh... I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You seemed real spooked back there and I could tell you hurt your arm so I just wanted to check up on ya,” Bucky’s eyes shined brightly as he explained himself. A pink tint colored his cheeks and neck as he sheepishly stared down at the ground.

His shy nature made your lips tilt into a small smile of your own and you couldn’t help thinking about how cute he looked like that, “thank you, that’s very kind,” you mumbled out.

There was a beat of silence as you and Bucky avoided each other's eye contact before a familiar patronizing voice interrupted, “Hey kid if you’re done flirtin’ with this guy can we go home? I’m starvin’ right now,”

“Calcifer!” you scold immediately, the familiar burn of pure embarrassment instantly appearing across your face.

Bucky, however, didn’t seem to be bothered by the fox’s comment and burst out into a fit of deep chuckles, running his metal hand through the long tresses of rich brown hair.

“Your fox is cute,”

The comment made Calcifer let out a gruff murmur of disagreement, making you join Bucky in his laughter, “Yeah, I’m really happy he chose to stay with me. Um... I should probably go. Cal hasn’t eaten since breakfast and I still need to go to the butcher-” “There’s a butcher in this town?” The pure curiosity on Bucky’s face made your smile grow that much more as he finally took in his surroundings.

“Yeah, it’s about two blocks down from here, it’s Calcifer's favorite place,” You say, backing up a few steps to signal your exit.

“A-alright! well, uh it was nice meeting you! Maybe I’ll see you around sometime?” The male witch fumbles with his words as he realizes the conversation is ending.

“Sure, maybe,” you nod in agreement, fully turning around and beginning the walk towards your destination.

As you walked away you couldn’t help but let the small smile on your face grow. What a dork he was... Almost as awkward as you were, the way he kept messing with his hair- ”He’s still lookin’ at ya... And what was all that stuff you were thinking about getting robbed? Why were you so fixated on gettin’ robbed?”

“Calcifer for christ’s sake!” Your voice was filled with exasperation, rolling your eyes at the familiar's comments and ignoring the fact that the cute witch was still watching you walk away.

“Are you seriously thinking about how him staring at you is cute? Humans are so weird...”

“Stop reading my thoughts you creep!”

✸ ✴ ✦

A groan echoed throughout your apartment as a streak of the bright morning sun landed on your eyes and woke you from your slumber. Clapping a hand down onto your eyes to block the light, you roughly slide it down in hopes of wiping the fatigue that plagued you. Slowly but surely, you untangled yourself from your sheets, stretching your waking limbs and yawning with an over dramatic sound. You blindly felt around for your phone that was lying on the floor directly by your mattress. Once you located the small device, you tapped it on and read the time. 10:47 am, Sunday...Fantastic.

You laid on your mattress for a bit, unaware of anything but your tired bones. The only reason you didn’t fall back asleep right then and there was the light buzz that came from your phone. You lazily picked it back up and stared at the too bright screen, taking a moment to comprehend the text that popped up on your home screen.

Wanda Maxi: Hey! Are you on your way?

What? On my way...

“OH FUCK” You bolt out of bed, slipping on part of your sheet that was draped onto your wooden flooring and almost face planting.

“Calcifer wake up we gotta have brunch with Wanda and Vis!” you scream out to nothing specific, unaware of where your familiar was.

As quickly as possible, you gathered an outfit, shoved a toothbrush into your mouth to brush it a little too harshly, got your hair ready, and threw your clothes on. It’s not until you’re almost done getting ready before you see the bright fox bolt in from the balcony, “How could you forget about brunch? This happens every week for fucks sake!”

“This isn’t entirely my fault! You knew about it too!” you argue while lathering deodorant onto your underarms, already sweating from the stress of the situation.

“I’m a fox! You think I keep alarms?” he yells back at you, not bothering to stop and look at you as he gathers your things while you hurriedly tried to shove your foot into a shoe.

Once your shoes were on and Calcifer had given you everything you’d need, you ran to your door and swung it open, “You wanna run with me or do you want me to carry you?”

“Oh please you can barely run by yourself. You couldn’t handle the weight,” Calcifer scoffs, running between your legs and out of the apartment.

You immediately lock your door and run after him, “So rude...” you huff to yourself and catch up to the fox.

✸ ✴ ✦

It only took you about five minutes to sprint across town and make it to the small clay cottage that your friends had lived in for years now. The mossy dark brown Terracotta roof and grey wooden door that had ivy vining in and out of it gave a lovely natural look to the house and you couldn’t help but admire the wonderful home the couple had built.

Calcifer’s quiet pants mixed with your wheezing as you stumbled up to the door and knocked loudly to signal your arrival. The door swung open, revealing a smirking Wanda.

“You woke up late again didn’t you?”

Still catching your breath, you nodded and followed her into her home. Wanda looked gorgeous, as always, wearing a light and flowing yellow sundress with matching shoes and a pretty white ribbon that was tied into her hair.

“I’m so sorry Wanda, neither of us set an alarm,” you breathed out, following her towards the kitchen.

“It’s okay sweetie, we didn’t have to wait or anything, all of us were busy talking about the latest man who was admitted into the Grand Council,” she smiled back at you, warm eyes shining from the sunlight that was coming through the glass doors that led to their garden.

You tilt your head in confusion when you realize her phrasing, “All of us?”

Wanda gently put a fist to her temple, her face twisting into a slight grimace, “I’m sorry sweetie I completely forgot to mention I invited some friends today! Don’t worry, they’re both great and I’m sure you’ll get along just fine,”

You nod your head hesitantly, not entirely believing your friend. You wondered who she had invited... Many times over Wanda and Vision have told stories about their old friends who they had met throughout their lives. From your understanding, they had built a wonderful family together and had helped and cared for each other for years so you had no doubt they would be friendly.

Before you had time to voice whatever worries you had, you were interrupted by the fall of multiple pairs of footsteps. It didn’t take long for three men to walk into the room, all talking enthusiastically over each other. You automatically recognized the slim man walking over to Wanda as Vision, his bright eyes greeting you as he wrapped his arms around Wanda’s slim waist.

You turn to the other two guests and are unable to hold in an audible gasp when you recognize one of them. Those chilling eyes copied yours as they widened to an almost comical size.

“Y/n...” The sound of your name coming from his full, pink lips made your hands clam up.

He was dressed much more formal today with a navy blue sweater over a button up shirt, dark jeans and the cutest wing-tipped shoes you’d ever seen. He looked like he had just gotten out of church with his grandmother.

“H-hello..” you mutter back, a heavy cloud of confusion and stress surrounding itself around you.

“Oh...Do you-do you guys know each other already?” Wanda tilts her head a curious finger flickering between the two of you as her squinting eyes try to find the connection.

Bucky glances at you, then Wanda, then back at you, as if to ask the question of who would be telling the tale of your meeting. You however settled for staring up at the ceiling, handing that responsibility off to Bucky.

“We um, bumped into each other at the market the other day,” his answer comes after a slight moment of hesitation.

You held back a scoff at his choice of words... More like you ran over me and almost killed my familiar.

“Oh great! So then you’ll only have to meet Sam,” Wanda smiles and gestures to the stranger who had refrained from speaking up until now.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Sam Wilson,” he greets you with a bright smile, a charming gap between his two front teeth and a warm glow emanating from rich brown eyes that winked mischievously.

He was quite handsome and his automatic charm caused the fog of awkward shyness to thicken in your mind, “Nice to meet you too,” you smile politely and shove your hand out for him to shake.

A deep chuckle sounds from within his muscular chest as he grasps your hand and gives a firm shake. You quickly tell him your name before stepping back and allowing a new conversation to start. It was hard to focus on what everyone was saying as you felt the obvious gaze of Bucky peering at you from across the kitchen. You found the best way to keep yourself from staring back at him was to focus on the small amount of dirt that you could see hidden underneath your nails. You really needed to get them done again... Although it gets pretty difficult to achieve correct measurements with the long pointy acrylics that seem to be your go-to choice.

“I dunno man, I just have really bad vibes about that Pierce guy... Steve agrees with me,” Sam’s comment brings you back to the conversation which you had apparently zoned out of.

“Where is Steven? I thought he said he would be able to attend today?” Vision, always the formal talker, had a questioning glint to his eyes as he switched his focus from Sam to Bucky, then back.

“Liberty wasn’t feeling too good so he had to take her to a vet,” Bucky was the one to answer.

“Liberty?” a questioning tilt to your head signals your confusion.

Bucky smiles at you before answering, “Yeah, she’s Steve’s pet. Super cute golden retriever that he picked up at the pound a couple years back,”

“Oh... Is he not a witch like you guys?” it surprised you that there was someone amongst their group that wasn’t practicing magic.

Bucky subconsciously takes a step towards you, his body language changing to signal he was now solely focused on you, “Yeah he tried a few years ago but, it didn’t really go too well,”

As Bucky answered he held up his metal prosthetic and wiggled his fingers, “Are you serious?! Your friend did that to you?” you gasp in shock, your eyes widening in amazement as you reach out to touch his arm without thinking.

The metal was smooth and you were so enamored by the new information as well as the mechanical appendage that you failed to notice how tense Bucky got and how multiple pairs of eyes were staring at you. Your fingertips gently ran over the cool ridges of metal sections, “Wow... Did he turn your arm metal or did... did something else happen?” you glance between pretty blue eyes and steely metal.

Bucky slowly reaches his arm out so you have a better view of what it’s like, “Actually that was kind of a joke,” he stutters, an awkward smile gracing his lips, “The real story is way more depressing,” he mumbles.

You halt your movements and stare up at him, the familiar yet heavy weight of embarrassment settling itself deep within your chest, “O-oh... I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to overstep-” You pull your hands away, folding them tightly against your chest.

“No it’s okay! Really I’ve had a lot worse interactions,” he chuckles and reassures you once again that you didn’t overstep any boundaries.

You nod in understanding but inevitably go back into your default of shy silence. Bucky stares down at you with a kind smile in hopes of making you feel a little less like an ass. It doesn’t work.

After a few moments of deafening silence, Wanda makes a move over to the oven, “Alright everyone, quiche time!”

“Aren’t you vegan?” Bucky mumbles, walking over to the table and preparing to sit down. As Wanda gives her response and mentions the fake eggs she found at the market, you walk over to the table as well. Bucky pulls out the seat closest to you and gives you a reassuring nod. You give a thankful smile and sit down, allowing him to help you push it back towards the table.

“Thank you,” your quiet voice has Bucky grinning as he sits down next to you.

“Of course, doll”

Brunch goes off without any more awkward spells and with the help of Wanda’s amazing skills in the kitchen, you begin to feel yourself relax with each bite you take. The afternoon goes on with the others telling you about how they met, silly stories about their friendly adventures, and at some point the conversation turned to you and what it had been like growing up a witch. It was a unique characteristic that none of your friends, new or old, had experienced.

“Well, my dad is the one who originally got me into it... He was an aura reader like Wanda, and my mom focused more on spell casting and potions,” a warm grin on your lips signal the fondness your memories bring as you tell about your childhood, everyone was completely invested.

“especially Bucky” Calcifer pointed out silently, giving you a knowing smirk from where he sat on the floor next to you.

oh fuck off you stupid fox

✸ ✴ ✦

With full stomachs and a few full containers of leftovers, you, Sam, and Bucky stood gathered outside of Wanda’s front door as you all belted out a chorus of goodbye’s and excellent days.

“It was really nice meeting you Y/n, make sure to keep in touch! I’ll be waiting for a carrier owl,” Sam winks at you as he begins to walk down the path towards the sidewalk, effectively leaving you and Bucky by yourselves.

“He didn’t even let me say goodbye back...” you mumble out, staring at the confident figure that now waited at the property line by a pretty bush of hydrangeas.

“Yeah... He’s weird like that,” Bucky agrees, glancing at his friend before fully turning his attention to you, “um so I’ve been meaning to maybe like... um maybe get your contact info? I just... I was maybe thinking we could grab like, tea or something sometime?”

As you take in Bucky’s words, you can’t help but notice the awkward and anxious movements he had started, reminding you of the first day you had met him. It made your lips twitch up just slightly.

“Oh? like, my phone number?” the dumb answer almost had you on your knees with how hard you cringed.

Bucky let out a breathy chuckle, “Uh yeah, yeah or like maybe an address? Or ugh that’s probably too personal-” “No! no it’s um it’s not,” you answer a little too quickly, discreetly pinching the skin on the back of your hand as punishment for your blatant lack of social skills.

After a quick beat of neither of you knowing what to do, you finally speak back up, “You could come over tomorrow if you’d like,”

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why would he want to come over so- “Yeah I’d love to!” Bucky answers enthusiastically, pulling his phone out from his back pocket and holding it out to you, “Just give me your number and I'll text you, we can figure out the details later, K?”

You gingerly take the smartphone in your hands and type in your number, forgetting to put a name in for yourself before handing it back to him. Bucky’s hand slightly brushes yours as he takes it back and you’re too busy focusing on the lingering feeling on your hand that you miss the cheeky grin on Bucky’s face as he types in a contact name.

“Hey tin soldier! You ready yet?” Sam’s smooth voice has you turning around with a start at his unexpected call.

Bucky nods towards his friend, waving him off and turning back to you, “So I’ll uh, see you tomorrow,”

“Tomorrow,” You confirm with a nod of your own.

Bucky’s smile grows tenfold and he takes a small step towards you, hesitating for only a moment before he leans in and gives a chaste kiss to the apple of your cheek. He doesn’t wait around to see your reaction, jogging over to Sam and slapping him on the shoulder before walking off down the cobblestone streets.

Standing with your eyes the size of the moon and your face as hot as the goddamn sun, you don’t fail to catch the string of comments that your sleazy little fox makes.

“Oh Bucky please just take me away! I’m too shy and socially inept to even speak to you properly, please I just love you sooooo much!” Calcifer’s high pitched mocking made your blood boil as he wheezed with laughter.

“Shut up you stupid fox!” you yell at him, hooking your foot underneath his belly and pushing up and forward to flip him on his side.

The reynard continued to cackle hysterically as you walked away from him. You could hear the broken comments he made as Calcifer continued to berate you on the bumpy interactions you always seemed to have with the handsome witch.

“You’re sleeping outside tonight!” you call back to him, a smug tilt to your lips.

The laughing stopped immediately and was replaced by the clicking of little nails on mossy stone.

✸ ✴ ✦

Calcifer’s eyes were glued to your figure as you made a mad dash around your apartment to make sure everything was clean and properly put away. Your socks allowed you to slide across the wooden floors as you shoved the rest of your freshly cleaned towels into a closet and slam it shut. Quickly turning the other way to sprint then slide the rest of the way to your little kitchenette where an almost comically small oven bakes banana nut muffins.

“You are a nervous wreck right now kid,” Cal points out, a hint of worry in his mostly humorous tone.

You look over at him, cringing at the realization that, yeah, you probably do look like a nervous wreck...

“It’s just that... No one has been over in a while and the last person that did come over was Wanda and I know she doesn’t care all that much about my tidiness so it was okay but I have no clue as to how Bucky is going to react and it's not like I don’t want to impress him, I mean I don’t need to impress him like my life doesn’t depend on what he thinks but,” “Christ’s sake kid-” “I mean for gods sake my bed is on the floor! He’ll probably think I’m some broke slob who-” Knock Knock

“Oh my gods,” you whisper scream, no doubt did your aura radiate pure panic...

You shuffle over to the door, shoving your face up against it to look through the peephole and make sure it was the only person you were expecting. Taking a deep breath, you try and center yourself, then open the door.

“Good morning, Bucky!” you greet, a bright smile on your face as you take in your guest’s appearance.

Bucky is looking extra handsome today as he wears a dark grey cardigan over a white shirt, dark fitted jeans and, to your extreme surprise, black Converse.

“Hey, Doll” he smiles back softly at you, quickly taking in your simple outfit of a cute yellow crop top and black shorts, “T-these are for you,” he mutters quickly and pulls a pretty bouquet of wildflowers out from behind his back.

You beam at the thoughtful gesture and Calcifer doesn’t miss the sense of pride that Bucky gives off at your excited reaction, “Wow, Bucky these are so cute! I love them, thank you very much,” gingerly taking the bundle of fragrant colors, you invite your guest inside and immediately go to your kitchenette to find a receptacle for them.

Once you find a nice little vase to put them in you spin back around to find Bucky looking around your small apartment, “Um...It’s not much-but the rent is really good and since it’s just me and Cal it works out pretty nice. If you aren’t comfortable we can always-” “I love it, Y/n. It’s really... you,” he glances back towards you, the look in his eyes warming you from deep within your chest.

“Hey, tin man” the both of you jump slightly as Calcifer interrupts the thoughtful interaction.

Bucky crouches down and reaches his hand out to the fox, “Hey... Nice to see you again Calcifer”

“Where’s your dog?” completely ignoring Bucky’s polite greeting, Calcifer passes by him.

“Oh uh... Sibi is still in training so I didn’t think it’d be a good idea to bring her into someone else’s home just yet,” the man answers awkwardly, dropping his hand and standing back up to his full height.

Calcifer be nice you little skeez.

I’m just tryin’ get to know the guy, alright?

You roll your eyes at the red animal and tell him to go onto the balcony. He thankfully listens, giving you and Bucky some privacy.

“Sorry about him... He can be a little difficult sometimes,” you apologize quickly, nervously rubbing your clammy hands on the front of your shorts.

Bucky chuckles and shakes his head, “It’s alright, I understand,”

You give a questioning look at his phrasing and he quickly moves to elaborate, “Well, uh I guess-Ya know- since you guys are really close... I can understand why he would be protective because um, well since I’m like I’m trying to-” “Trying to what?”

Bucky’s face was beet red as he tried and failed to explain himself to you, who had absolutely no idea what he was going on about, “In any case, I’m sure he’ll warm up to you soon,” you smile warmly at him and turn towards your oven.

The embarrassed man watches as you take out the piping hot tray of muffins and set them out on the counter to cool. His stomach growls low as the deliciously sweet smell hits his nostrils.

“How about we go sit down while those cool off?” you suggest and lead Bucky over to the small sofa that sat against the only free wall.

You tuck yourself into one corner, folding your legs so they were pressed against your chest as you tried to give Buck as much room as possible. It was quite adorable to see the tall, beefy guy try and squeeze himself onto your small couch. A quiet laugh escapes you and he glances towards you, his cheeks tinged pink, “Guess M’not really made for studio apartment sized things,” he chuckles.

Glad to see he isn’t upset about the cramped seating arrangement, you relax a little bit and start asking Bucky about his life. The two of you fall into easy conversation, talking about your childhood, past and current friends, how Bucky got into magic, your familiars and anything else that came to your minds.

By the time there was a slight lull in conversation, it was already mid afternoon and you couldn’t help the growls that sounded from your stomach.

“Um, do you want me to make us some lunch? I have like, sandwich stuff or mac n cheese?” you ask, swinging your legs off the couch and standing up to stretch.

“Yeah that sounds good, you want me to help?” Bucky follows your movements and you shake your head.

“S’okay, if you want you can go onto the balcony and I’ll be right out,” You smile up at him, turning to your little kitchen and focusing on making lunch.

Bucky makes his way out onto your balcony covered in vining plants and hanging bottles filled with god knows what. Calcifer was asleep on a slightly rusted chair in the corner, his tail and legs curled into his body, making him look like a furry ball of orange. Bucky had never seen a work space quite like it. Sam was more of a trader so there wasn’t much potion making in the home they shared together. As he stared in wonder at all of the bottles covering the antique desk and a good part of the floor, curiosity got the best of him and Bucky couldn’t help but to start picking them up and exploring what was inside.

Most of the bottles were labelled so he didn’t need to worry about those ones, the curious man was more interested in the unmarked ones. Popping off the cork to a green glass bottle filled with a powder, he brought his nose up to sniff and immediately gagged at the overpowering scent.

“What is that?” he grumbled quietly to himself, closing that one and picking up a new one.

This bottle did in fact have a label, but it was chicken scratch and for the life of him, Bucky couldn’t tell what the hell it meant as he picked up the murky glass bottle filled with what seemed to be a bright purple fog and opened it, taking in a quick whiff.

Almost immediately Bucky felt the effects of the mystery potion and he had to steady himself on the desk so he wouldn’t fall over. Blinking a few times, he gathered his wits and slowly stood straight up.

“Whaaat are you doing?” Your curious voice from the sliding door made Bucky jump and spin around, hiding the bottle behind his back.

Your eyes quickly shift from the chilling blue irises of your guest to the suspicious amount of movement happening behind his large frame. Bucky lets out a quick scoff before answering, “What? Nothing, just checkin stuff out ya know,”

His poor attempt at a casual demeanor was lost on you and it was quite evident in the suspicious squint of your eyes as you continued to stare at the man in front of you.

“Which bottle did you sniff?” you ask flatly, sticking your hand out expectantly, the other hand making its way onto your hip.

“I-I didn’t sniff any bottle,” Bucky mutters out, metal hand going up to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly.

You waited only a moment before he spoke again, seemingly unable to hold back his comment, “That’s a lie I sniffed this bottle,”

He immediately took a bottle out from behind his back and placed it in your still awaiting palm. You knew what it was as soon as you saw the color of the substance inside and began to laugh. It was the hardest you had laughed all day and the resounding noise of your joyous fit surely made its way down to the cobblestone streets below. Your right hand left its initial place on your hip and placed itself over the left side of your chest as you bent over to steady yourself.

“Y-you just inhaled a shit ton of Truth-Be-Told Smoke” You cackled out loudly.

Bucky, though entirely confused, couldn’t help the smile that painted itself onto his pink lips as he stared at your beautiful figure shaking from the prettiest laughing fit he had ever heard, “Your laugh is really pretty,” he blurted out, immediately slapping his hand over his mouth afterwards.

The compliment startled you enough to calm your laughter and straighten your posture back out, “Thank you, Buck. So I’m just gonna assume you’re wondering what’s happening right now,” He answered you by quickly nodding his head.

You giggled and continued on, “Basically, this stuff is used mainly as a partial ingredient in other potions, but by itself, especially undiluted, it’s a high performing truth serum. You won’t be able to say anything except for what comes to your mind for quite some time,”

“That makes me really nervous,” Bucky’s voice sounds strained as the hand that was covering his mouth moves to wipe down his face in stress.

“Well don’t go sniffin’ a girl’s potions next time!” you giggle out, walking over to return the potion to its proper place.

“You smell really good,” before you have a chance to react bucky groans in frustration, “Fuck I am so sorry,”

A light laugh escapes your lips and you look up at Bucky’s grimacing face, “It’s okay, I don’t mind. Plus it’s nice to know I made the right decision on what body wash to buy,”

You motion Bucky to follow you back inside, ensuring there would be no more accidental roofying. Two sandwiches sit side by side on the small sofa, a little pile of chips next to each one.

“This is really kind of you, Y/n” Bucky smiles, lifting up both plates of food and waiting for you to get comfy next to him before handing you one.

“It’s no problem Bucky, you’re my friend now and-” “I don't want to be your friend,” he bursts out, making you frown.

Bucky quickly fixes his mistake, “No sorry- I uhm- I misspoke I-I don’t want to just be your friend.” another grimace makes its way onto his face, “That’s embarrassing for me to say, I’m embarrassed,”

If you weren’t already sweating nervously, you were now. Clammy hands grip at the paper plate on your lap as you try and will your face to extinguish the fire that has engulfed it. “B-Bucky, I um…”

“I’m sorry I said that… It probably makes you never want to see me again,” Bucky mutters out, anxiously playing with the small pile of potato chips.

“Actually…” you begin, taking a deep breath and continuing, “It doesn’t bother me at all,”

Bucky lets out a long breath of air, “Holy shit really? That’s fucking awesome because I wasn’t gonna tell ya that today but then I smelt that thing and I’m sweating real bad right now with how nervous I am-I should not have said that, but now that you said what you just said-”

You put your hand up, signaling for the witch to stop his word vomit and laughed, “Bucky you don’t need to worry… Honestly, I am just as nervous as you,”

Maybe it was because of the state Bucky was currently in, maybe it was because of something completely unrelated, but it made you feel brave enough to admit more than what you would’ve ever imagined. Bucky somehow willed himself into eating his sandwich, stopping every once in a while to blurt out a random compliment about you, the food, your apartment, anything. He even complimented how adorable it was that your mattress was on the floor, saying it just made everything feel so much comfier and he wished his apartment was like this. You took the comments in stride on the outside, though on the inside you were dying out of embarrassment. No one had ever said such nice things about you, and to the volume that Bucky was going, even if it was against his will, it still shocked you a bit.

By the time you were both done eating, the effects of the smoke seemed to slow down a bit, which allowed the nervous man beside you to withhold all of his thoughts, though it did keep him from lying still. As you stood to clean up the plates and napkins used during lunch, Bucky mimicked you, following you to the kitchen.

“Today was really nice Bucky...Thank you for coming over,” you smile up at the tall man beside you and try not to swoon when he returns the warm smile.

There wasn’t a beat of hesitation before Bucky responded, “It was my pleasure, sweetheart,”

The term of endearment had your face aflame, something that has become a recurring struggle whenever you were around Bucky and his stupid compliments that always got to you.

“Ya know, you’re quite the sweet talker when there’s nothing holding you back,” you tease playfully, making Bucky let out a quick bark of laughter.

“Was I not a sweet talker before? I must have had some kinda skill since ya let me spend the whole day here,” a sly smirk is pulling at the corners of his lips as Bucky leans down closer to you in a mocking way.

You roll your eyes and put a hand to his shoulder, effectively pushing him away and giving yourself some much needed space. If you didn’t breathe properly soon, you were gonna pass out.

Bucky stayed at your place for a bit longer until he got a text from Sam saying that Sibi was getting anxious and that she missed him. You couldn’t help the grin that made its way onto your face when he explained why he had to leave, thinking it was absolutely adorable that Bucky was the only one who was able to calm that gigantic wolf. When it was time for him to go, it became a waiting game of who was going to initiate the final goodbye.

Standing by your front door, leaning on the trim, you stared into the piercing blue eyes of the man opposite of you, completely unsure of what to say. In all honesty, you didn’t think it’d go this well. For Bucky to spend the entire day cramped up in your apartment with you, eating snacks and joking around as if you had known each other for years… It shocked you a bit when you truly thought about it.

Bucky sighed, leaning against the opposite frame of the door as he stared back down at you, “So…” a nervous hand came up to subconsciously tangle into the hairs on the nape of his neck, the Truth Be Told must be wearing off, “I um… Today was really great,”

You nod your head in agreement, “Yeah it uh-it was,” your fingers begin to tangle and pull at each other.

“Do you...Maybe wanna...Do it again? Soon?” he mumbles out, breaking eye contact as he begins to focus on his shoes.

A little pinch to the back of your hand ensures that what you just heard was real and you nod, “yes, that’d be awesome! I um… Whenever you’re free of course,”

Y/n and Tin Man sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!

You quickly turn around to see Calcifer prancing in a circle in the middle of your apartment, a sly grin on his face.

Gods what are you Five? Shut up you stupid fox! I’m gonna throw you off the balcony!

“Doll? You okay?” Bucky chuckles lightly as he sees your face scrunched up into a cute little scowl that makes him want to squish your face between his hands.

Calcifer's annoying cackles were heard echoing in your apartment as you turned back around to face Bucky, “Yeah, yeah no I’m good… You were saying?”

“Just that I was free on Thursday, if you maybe wanted to get coffee with me… But it’s really no big deal if you don’t want to, I would understa-” “No! Er-I mean yes! Yes. I would love to get coffee with you on Thursday,” You cringe at your awkward response and bite the inside of your lip to keep yourself from screaming in embarrassment.

The bright smile on Bucky’s face grounds you a little bit and gives you the courage to meet his pretty blue irises, “So Doll, I uh was thinking-” Before he can finish his thought, Bucky’s phone pings loudly, making you jump a little, “Sorry” He murmurs.

Snatching it from the pocket of his jeans, Bucky takes a look then immediately lets out a quiet sigh, “That’s Sam, I really gotta go,”

Trying not to let the disappointment show, you nod your head and straighten up, silently wishing he could stay longer, “Okay...Um I’ll see you on Thursday then…”

Bucky’s head tilts to the left as he considers your shy demeanor and he can’t help but reach out with his right hand and lightly grasps yours, “I’ll see you on Thursday, pretty girl,”

You suck in a breath, feeling Bucky lightly tug on your hand and willingly following his lead. Taking a tiny step forward, which was really all you could take with how close the two of you were all ready, the breath your holding tightens in your chest as Bucky leans down closer to you. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek, the brush of his long eyelashes ghosting over your temples, and the light squeeze on your wrist from his large hand. Bucky’s lips were soft as they pressed against the corner of your mouth in a light kiss that made you feel like you were in the clouds.

It didn’t last as long as you’d like and once he pulled away, you were able to let out the painful breath that stayed in your lungs for way too long. Bucky gave a quick wave before backing up a few paces, turning around, and walked the rest of the way down the hall. Leaving you to stand there breathless with the lingering feeling of his soft touches.

“You two are gross,” The floaty feeling that had fallen over you evaporated as you heard the familiar’s voice from behind you.

“I’m gonna hit you so hard,” You yell over your shoulder, turning around and slamming the door behind you. You pick up a slipper by your door and make your way over to the cackling fox.

“W-wait wait! OW”

“Stupid fox”

✸ ✴ ✦

-3 Months Later-

“Steve c’mon, stop interrogating my girl and come help set the tent up!” Steve turns his attention from you to his best friend, a smile on his face as he gets up to help Bucky set up the large canvas tent.

“We will continue this later,” the blonde says pointedly before leaving you by yourself at the wooden picnic table.

It had only been a little over three months since you had met Bucky Barnes, exactly two since he had worked up the courage to officially ask you to be “his girl” as he put it, and two hours since you had properly met Steven Rogers. How you had gone so long without meeting Bucky’s platonic other half was beyond you, but apparently the guy was a busy bee, and since your little potion shop out of your apartment had taken off, you didn’t exactly have much free time on your hands either. Fortunately, with a little luck and a lot of asking around for favors and covers for work, You, Bucky, Steve, Sam, Wanda, Vis, and all of your respective animals were able to take a long weekend to go camping.

“Are you guys ready to eat? These sandwiches won’t keep for much longer,” Wanda stands up from the green metal cooler, hands full of deli sandwiches that she had made for the trip.

A chorus of agreeance sounded across the cozy little site you had booked as you all gathered around the redhead. Bucky came up beside you, wrapping his metal arm around your waist and placing a soft kiss to the crown of your hair.

“You excited for the weekend, doll?” he murmurs into your hair sweetly before placing a few more kisses there.

You laugh lightly at his endearing behavior and smile up at him, “Of course I am Buck. I may never get the chance to spend this much time outside of my apartment again,” you joke, leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss your boyfriend on the sharp line of his jaw.

After everyone had gotten a sandwich, along with whatever they wanted to drink or eat with it, you all squeezed onto the benches of the picnic table and began to chow down. Everyone talked animatedly about what the plans were for the rest of the weekend. Swimming, fishing, “Building a bomb ass fire” as Sam gracefully put it, all of it sounded like a blast to you. If you were being honest, you were just excited to be out of your apartment for more than a few hours at a time.

“So, you’re a potion maker huh?” Steve asks, mouth half full of potato chips.

Bucky lets out a groan and rolls his eyes, “Stevie let the girl breathe for fucks sake,”

The group laughs at Bucky’s annoyance, but then looks at you, “Well, uh yeah… I um was taught at a young age, so it’s something I’m really good at and I know it’s not the best job or anything-” ''It’s an awesome job, kid. I think you’re doing real good. Our own little entrepreneurial witch!” Sam interrupts your babbling, a bright smile on his face as he pats your back just a little too forcefully.

“I mean… I’m not a witch so I obviously don’t really get it like everyone else does, but you seem to be doing really well,” Steve assures you, sending a sense of pride into your chest.

You had managed to impress Steve Rogers… Not bad, Y/n.

The guy is actin’ like he’s Tin Man's father… The hell is that about?

You turn your head over to where Calcifer is curled up on a dark blue camping chair, bright yellow eyes trained on the blonde man who was still stuffing his mouth with food.

Calcifer they’ve been friends for ages, it’s normal.

The fox lets out a quiet snuff in response before getting up from the chair and trotting over to the table.

“Cal do you want some of my turkey?” Bucky asks, taking a few pieces of turkey from his sandwich and setting it beside him on the table.

Calcifer doesn’t answer, just hops up on the bench and silently eats the portion of meat. It’s taken a while for Calcifer to warm up to Bucky… And though progress if few and far between, the two have definitely gotten closer in the past couple of weeks. The biggest issue at first was how crazy Sibi acted around other familiars, but after a while and a good amount of training from you and Bucky, the hyperactive wolf finally settled and was on track to be a wonderful helper for her witch in training.

“So… Do you guys have any plans of moving in together soon?” Wanda hesitates as she not so sneakily takes a chip from Vis’s plate.

You and Bucky look to each other for only a moment before responding, “We’ve been looking at places to go. It’s hard cause we wanna stay in Adelaide but without buyin’ a whole house, there aren’t many options for apartments,” Bucky explains, a small shrug to his shoulders.

“And there’s no way all four of us could fit in my apartment,” you add, copying Bucky’s shrug.

Neither of you were in too much of a hurry to find a place of your own, as you were both content in the homes you were in now. The idea of living with Bucky was quite appealing but you knew the more realistic thing to do would be to wait, save, and research to make sure you both lived in a comfortable environment.

“You guys are so cute it makes me wanna die! Who knew you’d be the ultimate witchy power couple?” Wanda’s swooning caused you to laugh a little as Vision looked at her with mock hurt in his eyes as if to say ‘what are we then?’

Before anyone had a chance to add on, an unexpected voice responded, “I did,”

Your laughter immediately ceased and your attention snapped over to the other side of Bucky’s large frame. Calcifer sat proudly on his haunches as he gazed back at your shocked face.

“W-what do you mean you knew?” Bucky stuttered, equally as shocked as you were.

“I just knew. From the first day you guys met, it was obvious it was that true love bullshit you humans talk about,” the fox brushes off both yours and Bucky’s shock as if it was nothing.

The rest of the group laughs as the pair of you stutter out broken objections to Calcifer’s claim, “A-are you kidding me Cal? That stuff is like… a myth or something,”

“Yeah, I mean I’m in love with Y/n n’ all but-” “You’re in love with me?”

All of the banter around the table halts as five pairs of eyes stare at a now tomato faced Bucky Barnes. “U-um, yes. Yeah-I um, yeah I’m in love with you…” Bucky’s voice is quiet and you’re not sure if he actually said what you heard, but that thought is soon wiped from your mind as an eruption of cheers sounds from your friends.

A grin makes its way onto your face as you stare up at those pretty blue eyes that you really never got tired of looking at, and you can’t help but bring your hand up to run along the stubble of Bucky’s jaw, “I’m in love with you, Buck”

Bucky lets out a sigh of relief and immediately leans down to press his lips against yours in a passionate kiss, both of his large hands framing each side of your face to pull you closer to him.

“Told ya so”

“Shut up you stupid fox!”

216 notes · View notes

stonecoldjerseyfox · 4 years ago

Text

Jersey on my mind (part 38)

A faint, warm breeze caresses Mila’s face as she and Juri walk along the quiet street, running alongside the newly built wall. A few of the Alexandrian men are working on the final piece, funnily enough nearby the church that caused it to break. It’s been two months since the wall collapsed now, or at least that’s what she thinks. Mila looks at the new construction as she and Juri passes, feeling a sense of calm throughout her soul as her eyes sweep over the repaired structure that has also been expanded; a part of Deanna’s original plan for the community. On the piece of the wall that stood by the invasion, next to the small graveyard, someone has written the name of those who have perished; loved ones, friends, family and those who became family after the outbreak. It’s a nice memorial site, a quiet corner of the community. Since that day, when the walkers poured into Alexandria, everything has gone back to a somewhat normal state.

It’s a hot mid-summer’s day, the sky is blue and the clouds look extra fluffy. Juri points towards them and gestures as if he squeezed an invisible marshmallow between his soft little fingers.

“Yeah they look tasty.” Mila smiles and squints up towards the floating clouds cruising by without a hurry. “What about-” Softly, she pinches Juri’s button nose. “I try to find us some yummy marshmallows for a barbecue when I get back, huh?”

With glittering eyes Juri nods and hugs her tightly; obviously he is positive about the idea.

“Then it’s a date.” Mila chuckles and hugs Juri back, before putting him down on the ground. “Ufh, you are getting heavy. Soon I won’t be able to carry you around.”

With a proud, sunny face Juri stretches, he’s certainly not a little guy anymore; in Mila’s eyes, paradoxically, he’s still her little baby, while she’s also well aware that he’s turning four in a few months. Where the heck did the years between infancy and two go? With a smile, she thinks of Maggie and what adventure awaits her and Glenn in the years to come. At least they have each other, a small consolation when the world is constantly on the brink of doom.

“Since you’re a big boy now, you’re going to teach Maggie’s baby a lot of important things. Like Carl does with you and Judith.” Mila says and takes Juri’s hand. “You think you can do that?”

Juri nods, with eyes that take the task very seriously. He adores Carl like an older brother and being addressed as a big boy, doing ‘Carl-stuff’, is everything he’s ever wanted. Juri gestures with his free hand and makes a finger walk in the air; of course he will teach the new baby to walk. But when he lets go of Mila’s hand, to show that he’s going to teach the baby to tie its shoes, Mila raises her left eyebrow.

“Well, I think we have to practice that one a little bit, Malysh.” Mila says.

Stubbornly, Juri signals that he’s already trying to learn, or rather states, very stubborn, that Daryl should teach him. He’s done it before, Juri gestures with a triumphant grin.

“Really?” Mila smiles. “Sure, I bet he’s good at it. What’s left for me then? I’m just gonna sit by and watch?”

By putting his hands together in front of him and pointing his index fingers straight ahead, Juri gestures a finger-gun. He narrows one eye and pretends to aim and fire. He points at her with a smile, clarifies that she’s best at shooting, therefore she should teach him.

“Spasibo, malysh.” She winks at Juri. “Not quite yet, though. But I promise you, I will.”

Further down the street, both of them catch sight of Daryl and Denise. They part, Denise walks away from them and Daryl turns and starts to walk in their direction. Mila waves at him and Juri starts to run as fast as his short legs possibly can towards their favorite archer. Despite his packing, a backpack and the crossbow, Daryl receives Juri when he reaches him; he lifts him up in the air on straight, strong arms, making Juri’s blonde hair dance around his angelic face. The silent laugh that spreads on his face makes Mila’s heart swell with joy. She had never thought that the surly archer would melt completely because of a, certainly charming, mute toddler; her little ray of sunshine. He even smiles as he lifts Juri into the air. Surely a sight for sore eyes, she thinks as they meet in the middle of the street.

“Ya’ ready?” Daryl greets her as he puts Juri down. “We’re heading out now.”

“All done.” She replies, notices a piece of paper in Daryl’s hand. A shopping list? “That’s a nice little list you got there.” Mila peeks over the edge of the slightly crinkly paper, that looks like it’s been passed around the entire community. “Food, gas, some medicine, more medicine… another medicine-” She frowns her eyebrows. “Orange soda?”

“Dunno.” He shrugs. “Denise wanted to surprise Tara.”

“That’s nice.” Mila nods.

It was decided last night that Tara and Heath would go on a longer supply run. Daryl was asked to follow, but declined. Mila suspected that it was because of her; she’s been a bit under the weather the last couple of days; she’s been tired and just a bit feeble, felt nauseated. Carol was sure it was just her female hormones acting out, which could very well be a possibility. Tracking a period during the apocalypse wasn’t high on her ‘to do’-list, so she brushed it off. Daryl didn’t say anything about the reason for his decision, but Mila guessed that he didn’t feel like leaving her behind, even though she’s neither sick or… well, anything really. Just a bit tired. Instead, it was decided that Daryl and Rick would go on a supply run. Mila offered to come along; Daryl couldn’t possibly stop her from following, so it was settled that she’d tag along.

They walk to the dusty Chrysler sedan together. Rick’s already in place, assuring that his gun is loaded and attached properly to his belt when they arrive.

“Mornin’.” He greets them with a nod; Once a cop, always a cop. The only thing missing is the wide-brimmed hat. “Ready to go?”

Both of them nod and Daryl hands Rick the list of supplies.

“Ya’ see anything you miss?” He asks.

Rick glances through the list quickly.

“We’re outta’ toothpaste.” He states and lifts his eyes to them, waving the note between his fingers. “Keep an eye open for spearmint and baking soda. Michonne’s orders.”

“Got it.” Mila turns to Juri and squats in front of him. “Okay, be nice to Carol and the others, don’t run away.”

With a serious look, Juri reminds her of the promise of marshmallows.

“I’ll remember.” Mila promises and gives him a kiss on the cheek. “There, davay.” She gets up from the ground as Juri turns and runs over to the porch, climbs the stairs and gets into the house to find Carol.

They get in the car, Rick and Daryl in the front seat and Mila in the back seat. She puts her handgun and backpack in the seat next to her and Rick rolls over to the gates, where Eugene’s about to push it open for them. On the other side, pierced on a couple of rebar attached to a broken car, a couple of walkers are trying their best to reach for them with their worn, boney arms, all in vain.

Eugene strutts over to the passenger seat of the car and leans into the open window. The mullet looks more solid than ever as he hands Daryl another note. “I mapped out some of the agricultural supply places in the area.” He says in the heavy Texan accent Mila finds incredibly fascinating. “Even if they’ve been cleaned out, my bet is that the sorghum would be untouched. Now, that there is a criminally underrated grain that could change the game with our food situation from scary to hunky-dunky.”

No one says anything. Mila rests her elbows on the backs of the driver’s and passenger seats and leans in so her head sticks out in between the two men in the front.

”I'm talking standability-” Eugene continues. “Drought tolerance, grain-to-stover ratio that is the envy of all corns.” He pauses. “Think about it.”

”Gosh I could listen to him forever.” Mila says and looks at Rick. “Hunky-dunky.” She repeats in an as good as it gets Texan accent, while meeting Eugene’s eyes.

“All right.”

The car drives out through the gate, Rick accelerates and they leave Alexandria behind.

“I’m having a good feeling ‘bout today.” Rick says cheerful.

“Really?” Mila replies.

“Just-” Rick shrugs. “You know- You just feel it. Today’s the day. We're gonna find food, maybe some people. The law of averages has gotta catch up.”

“We ain’t seen nobody for weeks.” Daryl notes. “Maybe we ain’t gonna find nobody.”

“That’s sunny.” Mila says, strokes his bare arm with her fingertips. “Let’s cheer this bad boy up, sheriff.”

Rick grins and pushes ‘play’ on the stereo. The music starts faintly and Mila recognizes the band as Social Distortion.

”Oh I like this one!” Mila exclaims and starts to sing along.

”Thought ya’ only liked country?” Rick looks at her in the rearview mirror.

”Nuh.” Mila shakes her head. ”I’m full of surprises. Fun fact, I went to a bunch of cool concerts back in Jersey. These guys, Bruce Springsteen, Neil Young, Rise Against, Pearl Jam- Lots of rock, punk, country-” Mila continues to sing along when the chorus starts. ”I made out with the Social Distortion singer, Mike Ness, after a concert. Or at least I think it was him.”

”Think?” Daryl sputters and turns to look at her.

”I was eighteen!” Mila shrugs easily. “And drunk beyond judgement.” She confesses. ”He was- old, kinda’ handsome. Smelled quite nice, except the sweat. When I think about it, it could just as well be any middle aged guy with tattoos and tons of hair wax working backstage. I will never know for sure. But I’d like to believe it was the singer. Makes the story more interesting.”

Rick laughs.

“Concerts are wild.” He agrees while tapping the steering wheel. “I took Lori to see Tim McGraw once, before Carl was born. Cheap fried hot wings, beer in red plastic cups, great music; great night.”

“Is he the-” Mila starts to hum while drumming on the thighs. “Hu-huuu- I like it, I love it-”

“-I want some more of it-” Rick tunes in and snaps his finger to her beat. “I try so hard, I can't rise above it. I don't know what it is 'bout that little gal's lovin’-”

“Christ sake-” Daryl sighs and slides further down the passenger seat.

“Here-” Rick hands Mila the worn plastic case of cd’s from the door pocket. “Find something good.”

“Yes, captain.” Mila unzips the case and starts to flip the plastic pages, filled with scratched cd’s, before finding something that looks promising. “Here-”

“Please, don’t-” Daryl pleads.

Too late. She leans into the front seat and pushes the cd into the radio.

“Crank it up!”

Rick turns the volume wheel up to fourteen and both he and Mila happily exclaims “yeeeah” when the intro to “Life is a highway” blasts out of the cheap stereo.

“Ya’ both crazy!” Daryl cries, in an attempt to drown out the radio.

“Draws ‘em away from home!” Rick calls before tuning into the catchy chorus with Mila.

Rick knows the lyrics even better than she does; she still stumbles on the fast lines combined with her not pitch perfect english.

After driving for awhile, while continuing their exceptional singalong, Daryl manages to override the music:

”Look-” Daryl points out of the window and Rick hits the brakes in a matter of seconds. ”Back up.”

While Mila stretches forward and turns down the volume, Rick puts in reverse gear and drives the car back to the intersection. About a hundred meter to their right lies a couple of buildings. A silo, a shed and a barn, with ’sorghum’ written all over the dirty white roof. Rick turns the wheel, hits the gas and drives in the direction of the barn. He drives up on the dirt road and parks in front of the red building. It looks untouched, as if no one else knew about the great power of the sorghum. They step out of the car and look around. It’s quiet, no walkers.

“Let’s check it out.” Rick looks around the corner.

”Best to be safe.” Daryl says and walks over to the storage roll up door. He checks the handle, nods as to tell that it’s unlocked. ”Ya’ cover?” He looks up at her and Rick.

”Yup.” Rick returns, hand on his gun.

While the two men get ready for combat, Mila throws a glance out over the fields surrounding the barn; keeping an eye open for potential enemies. The door goes up with a loud noise and Rick bursts into the barn. Mila’s eyes land on the back of a truck.

“No sorghum?” Mila says.

”Doesn’t look like it.” Rick turns to her and Daryl. “We’re good.” He states and points at the truck. ”One more time?”

”It ain’t locked.” Daryl puts his hand on the handle and thugs at the box truck roll up door that rolls up with a rattle.

”Wohaa!” Mila exclaims.

The truck is filled with supplies; food, blankets, towels, everything really. It must be their lucky day.

”How ’bout that?” Daryl says. “Looks like we’re done for today.”

”Let’s get this thing going, grab our gear and come back for the car later. Take another way back and see what we can see.” Rick states. “We still need to find more things.”

”I’ll go start it up-” Mila says. ”If it starts.”

”I think it does.”

”Also one of your optimistic predictions?” She smirks at Rick, turns and walks over to the drivers side and opens the door. ”Hah, they where dumb enough to leave the keys.”

Daryl unloads the most necessary things from the car, Rick locks it with a ‘beep’ on the key and they get inside the truck; Mila makes herself comfortable between her two companions and they backs out of the barn and hits the road. They head in the direction Rick drove before Daryl asked him to stop. The road is lined by green, lush forest. The sun has settled behind some clouds, but it’s still warm, a sticky moist heat that doesn’t really make Mila’s tiredness any better. She’s already drinked a whole bottle of water by herself and starts to feel her jeans push at her bladder. In the distance, she sees what looks like a very run-down gas station.

“Should we check it out?” Daryl looks at Rick, who nods. “Might be some gas left.”

“Let’s find out.”

Rick parks at the first pump and they get out of the truck. The gas station is a mess; debris everywhere, an abandoned jeep is parked outside and the black color of the roof has begun to flake and exposes the gray metal underneath. The store looks equally miserable. She strolls up to the doors and peeks through the dirty glass, but sees nothing else than darkness. On her right Daryl’s checking out a tipped-over vending machine, filled with soda and candy. Someone must’ve given up halfway through their attempt to move it, Mila thinks.

“Give me a hand with this.” Daryl says.

Rick, looking around the desolated place, turns on the spot and walks over to help. Besides her urge to pee, Mila’s struck by a slight sensation through her head, like nausea, just as she has been doing on and off the last two days. Heck, not now.

“I just gotta- you know.” She makes a whistling sound, to signal that she needs to find a toilet, or just walk behind the corner of the gas station to pee, or vomit - right now she cannot decide which of them she needs the most.

“We’ll get this.” Daryl nods towards the vending machine.

Mila turns and walks towards the door of the gas station. She thugs at it, then pushes it open with force. It’s barricaded with a shelf and she creates a passage wide enough for her to get through and walks inside the dark store, gun raised in front of her. She lets her gaze get used to the dark, then sweeps over the empty, chaotic store before she walks towards the back of it, towards the door with ‘staff only’, hanging on just one hinge. The back of the shop, a room that looks like something between an office and a storage, with walls clad in brown wooden panels, is also empty. She quickly finds the ‘staff only’-toilet that doesn’t look far too disgusting to sit down on. She closes the door halfway, to prevent herself from being in total darkness. While unzipping her jeans she curses herself for not bringing a flashlight. As she sits down, she promises herself to wash her whole body with steel wool as soon as they are back in Alexandria; the toilet stinks of urine and It must be a pure bacteria party in the small space. She closes her eyes, feels how the nausea calms down a bit, focuses to breath through her mouth to close out the acrid smell. She takes another breath and feels her bladder relax, happy to release the huge amount of water she drank.

Despite the disgusting toilet, it feels better to go to the toilet inside than outside. Mila reluctantly remembers the time she had to pee in the woods, and a walker snuck up behind her. With her trousers around her ankles, Mila had to ward off the armless, dead man. It wasn’t her proudest moment for sure.

Loud voices and thumps make her wake up from her thoughts. Mila almost falls on her nose getting up from the toilet seat with her jeans around her ankles. Swearing over the fact that she might have to repeat her unworthy pants incident, she makes her way out from the bathroom, thuggin’ on her panties and jeans to get them over her ass, to see what’s going on outside. Is there an ambush? She loses balance, while trying to zip her pants, when she makes her way out in between the gap in the door and drops to the pavement. While brushing her hair out of her face, Mila catches sight of Daryl and Rick standing out in the street. The truck is gone.

“What the heck?!” She cries and gets up from the ground, fiddling with the zipper. “Where’s the truck?”

“Gone.” Rick hollers back at her.

Mila lets go of the zipper again -whatever if she shows off her undies at this point- and holds out her arms, to show that she noticed that very well on her own.

“I was gone for like, five minutes, and now you lost the truck?”

“He took it-” Rick continues.

“He who?”

“Some goddamn’ hippie.” Daryl scoffs angrily. “Crashed into Rick and then drove off with the truck, swiped the keys.”

“Wha- just like that?” Mila says, more confused than ever. What the hell happened?

“We talked to him.”

“Okay… and?”

“Told us his name- called himself Jesus.”

“Yeah I’m sure that’s his name.” Mila laughs dryly; right, Jesus Christ would surely show up in the middle of nowhere and steal a truck filled with toothpaste, food and other supplies. “Jesus don’t steal trucks.” She says. “Jesus isn’t even real! And how on earth did he overpower both of you?”

The two men in front of her transform into two ashamed puppies, that’s been caught peeing on the carpet, in the matter of seconds. Mila suspects that they weren’t overpowered but tricked; muscles and guns are no use for cunning, and she knows a lot about the latter.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Mila sighs, squats and ties her boots with an extra secure double knot. “Lets go.”

“What?” Daryl looks at her.

“We gotta follow the truck.” She replies and thanks her lucky star for not having eaten anything heavy earlier this morning. “I won’t let someone who believes himself to be Jesus just steal our truck. I went to church back in Russia when I was a child; stealing is a sin, which makes this Jesus a hypocrite. Come on.”

Mila starts to run. Had she known she would have to chase after a truck, she would have taken a pair of running shoes. They pass the vending machine after a few hundred meters, discarded in the middle of the road. Mila brakes and takes a deep breath, wiping sweat from her forehead. The sticky heat is killing her and the three of them drip with sweat. Rick’s shirt is several shades darker and Daryl looks almost freshly showered. Next to her, Rick doubles down and rests his hands on his knees, still hugging the gun.

“How far do you think he’d come?” She pants.

“Dunno.” Daryl takes a crowbar from his backpack, shatters the display case of the vending machine and starts to stuff orange sodas and some snacks into his bag. He reaches Mila a can. “Here, drink.”

She smiles, as to say ‘thank you’ and opens the can. The soda is somewhere between lukewarm and warm, but it’s better than nothing. She finishes the can quickly and wipes her mouth on the back of her arm.

“Isn’t this the soda Denise wanted?” She asks.

“Uhu.” Daryl nods. “Special request.”

He takes one of the cans, punctures a hole in its side and pours the lukewarm orange drink into his mouth. Very classy.

“Hey, whatever she wants. She saved Carl's life.” Rick replies and receives the can from Daryl. “If there's still people out here, and they're still people, we should bring 'em in.”

“Still feelin’ positive, huh?” Daryl asks his friend. “Takin’ em in? Like this guy, stealing our truck?”

“No, not this guy.”

Daryl turns and looks at her, the gaze wanders from top to bottom.

“Ya’ good to go?” The look is caring, protective. As if he was trying to say 'sorry ‘bout the bumpy ride'.

Mila nods, feels a drop of sweat run down her lip, into her mouth.

“Let’s get this over with.” She replies and collects her long, sweaty hair on the back of her head, ties it up with a hair tie. “I’ve ran marathons, remember.”

They set off again at a slightly faster pace, strengthened by the soda. Mila breathes calmly as she sprints over the concrete, counts her breaths as she used to do when she was an avid runner and used to go out for a long run for fun. The circumstances are a bit different from back then; no running shoes or comfortable running clothes in bright colors, no iPod filled with upbeat music and no fitness clock tracking her pulse and her route. The boots are actually horrible to run in, the same goes for jeans, t-shirt and denim shirt, plus a backpack and weapons.

They follow the tire tracks until they reach a crest, where Daryl signals for them to stop. Carefully they ascend the hill until they can peek over the edge. In the hill down on the other side they see the truck, standing still. It has a puncture and Mila immediately sees a long-haired man with a beard, dressed in a long coat and a beanie, which in itself is pure madness. She’s dripping with sweat and would never in her life put on a long coat or hat now.

“That’s him?” She asks faintly.

“That’s him.” Rick nods at them to follow him into the woods to the left.

They carefully make their way over the fallen leaves between the trees, without losing sight of the truck. The man walks around to the back of the car and they see their chance. They quickly get out of the woods, Rick takes the lead and throws himself forward, wraps his arms around the man from behind.

“Hold still and maybe we won’t hurt you.”

If Rick thought it would help, he was completely wrong. The man sends off an elbow into Rick’s stomach and is suddenly free again. He makes a move, kicks Rick in the guts and gets him down on the ground. It's obvious that the guy is a bit sharper than the rest of the knives in the drawer; Mila climbs out of the ditch just as the man is about to set off towards the driver’s door, but is stopped by Daryl. While the men fight with each other, Mila manages to get up on the road just as the bearded man slips out of Daryl’s arms, pushes him into the side of the truck, turns around and loses track completely at the sight of Mila, who -tired of running and still a little nauseous- has pulled out her gun and aims it at him.

“Surprise!”

The brief moment is enough for Daryl to get back on his feet. He sees his chance when the man turns and notices Mila and tackles him from behind, down into the ditch. At gunpoint, they finally have the upper hand.

“Thanks.” Daryl pants and looks at Mila.

“The power of surprise.” She shrugs and looks down at the man.

He’s about thirty, long brown hair, beard. Yes, she sees the resemblance to Jesus; every time she sat in church and counted the icons portraying him when she was little. The serious man with sloping shoulders, blue dress, beard and well-groomed hair. The difference is that the Jesus in the icons didn’t have a knitted beanie and a leather coat.

The foliage behind the man in the grass rustles. A walker then announces its presence, by a guttural hissing sound.

“Do you even have any ammo?” Jesus looks at them.

Without answering, Mila raises her gun at the walker and shoots.

“Okay.” Jesus nods, still with his hands raised in front of him. “You gonna shoot me over a truck?”

“There's a lot of food on that truck.” Rick says. “The keys - now.”

“I think you know I'm not a bad guy.”

Once again, Mila suddenly feels that unpleasant, nauseating feeling, but this time it spreads from her head down to her stomach. She turns around, hurries away a few meters, bends forward and vomits into the ditch. ‘Is she okay?’ she hears Jesus' question, while she spits and feels how she shivers all over her body; fuck, she hates to vomit. But it actually feels better.

“Ey-” She hears Daryl scoff at the poor guy. “Eyes here, dude! The keys!”

“I’m fine.” Mila hollers and waves her arm at them, still folded like a pocket knife.

“You sure?” Jesus calls back.

“Oh shut up!” She shouts. “It’s because of you I’m throwing up.”

“Sorry.”

“Just-” Mila straightens her back. She feels less nauseated, a bit weak but otherwise much better. “Give us the keys.”

For some reason, Mila can’t figure out why, Jesus throws her the keys. It might be out of pity, or the fact that her two comrades are holding him at gunpoint; she nods at him, as a way to say thanks.

While Rick ties Jesus up, Daryl hurries over to her.

“Ya’ okay?” His eyes are worried. “Ya’ sick?”

“No I’m fine.” Mila nods averted. “Probably just too much running and too little breakfast. I’m good now.” She smiles. “Just, don’t kiss me until we’re back and I’ve brushed my teeths, okay?”

He doesn’t look completely convinced, but he grunts a little, caresses her cheek and places a kiss on her forehead instead.

“There’s toothpaste in the back of the truck.” He says, before returning to Rick and Jesus.

Mila gets into the truck, sits down in the middle seat and closes her eyes; maybe she should try to find one of those toothpastes, she has a foul taste in her mouth. She looks around the cab and finds a pack of spearmint gum. As she pushes a third gum into her mouth, Daryl and Rick jump on either side of her.

“Where is Jesus?” She asks.

“On the street.”

“What? We can’t just leave him?”

“Of course we can.” Rick replies, turns the key and starts the car.

“So long, you prick.” Daryl shouts out of the window as they drive off.

Mila chuckles dryish; She has an underlying sense that something is going to happen. Karma. She takes out the case of cd’s from her backpack, picks the “best of sixties” album and pushes the cd into the stereo. The sound of Connie Francis “Tennessee waltz” crackles out of the speakers and Daryl hands out snacks from the vending machine.

“Still worked out. Today still is the day.” Rick recalls while snacking on a chocolate-peanut bar. He then points in front of him. “Hey, look at that.”

The truck drives out of the forest, and Mila sees both fields and buildings.

“Yeah, a barn.“ Daryl says.

As Rick turns off in the direction of the barn, something makes them all fall silent and listen; thumps, like something hitting the truck box, is heard even over the loud music.

“What’s that?” Mila exclaims. “You hear that?”

It’s inevitable what the noise is; footsteps.

“I think that son of a bitch is on the roof.” Daryl says.

All three of them react at the same time; Rick stands on the brake pedal, the car stops with a howl and Jesus falls down in front of the windshield and tumbles to the ground. Daryl, swearing loudly, throws himself out of the car to follow him and Mila follows Daryl. She has no idea why, but her gut feeling tells her that Daryl won’t be gentle on him. It also tells her that Jesus probably isn’t dangerous at all, which isn’t in his favor if Daryl, who’s all muscles and pretty bad impulse control, gets a hold of him.

“Daryl-” She calls. “No- Stop!”

“I’ve had enough of ya’!” Daryl shouts at Jesus, not hearing Mila.

This must look ever so stupid, Mila thinks as she sprints after Daryl and the hippy-dippy guy into the dry green field; like one of those silent films, except that the soundtrack in this case happens to be Helen Shapiro’s “Walking back to happiness” playing from the car. Mila running after Daryl, running after this odd long-haired man who seems to believe he’s Jesus. Why in the world would he otherwise call himself that?

”No- no, stop it!” Mila shouts, as if she was scolding at a bad dog.

She stumbles and falls flat on her stomach, while Jesus reaches the now stationary truck and throws himself into the driver’s seat. Daryl follows.

“Come here, you little shit!” He barks and starts to drag Jesus out of the car.

At the same time a walker has snuck up behind Daryl. Mila gets up on her knees, gropes for her gun, but before she has managed to raise it to shoot, she hears Jesus call out ‘duck’; Daryl ducks just in time. A gun finds its way into the walker's skull and it falls back like a bowling pin.

“Thanks.” Daryl pants, then sends off a punch into Jesus face. “That's my gun! Come here!”

He throws Jesus out of the truck, onto the grass. He doesn’t remain there for long; instead, he lays hooks for Daryl, who stumbles, giving Jesus time to get up on his feet and set off again.

“Son of a-” Daryl roars and runs after.

“Fuck- knock it out!” Mila shouts and increases her speed, minimizing the distance between herself and her, frankly pissed off, other half. Before Daryl’s able to take another leap in his hunt for the handcuffed, longhaired karate kid, she tackles him to the ground with a thud. ”Stop this!” Mila climbs up on top of him, to prevent Daryl from getting up from the grass. ”This is stupid!”

”Christ- knock it out ya’!”

Crap, she doesn’t have time to argue. Mila climbs over Daryl and sets after Jesus, who has slowed down to watch the wrestling match played out in the grass behind him. A surprised expression spreads on his bearded face as he sees her approaching, faster than he imagined. Jesus turns and starts to run again, but he doesn’t get up to speed fast enough. Mila lunges for him and they tumbles to the ground in a bundle of arms and legs, and she starts to wrestle him. He doesn’t fight her, but he tries with all his power to get loose from her grip. Mila gets a sharp elbow in the eye and a cracked lip before hobo-Jesus is ripped away from her by Daryl, who looks like he’s boiling.

“Ey, that’s ma’ girl, ya’ scumbag!”

“Wohaa, jeez.” The long haired, ravaged man, flies like a raggedy Anne-doll through the air.

Mila gets up from the ground, covered in dry grass and wipes blood from her mouth on the back of her hand. Her eye pounds and already feel swollen, a certain recipe for an upcoming, gorgeous black eye. Daryl pants loudly through his nostrils while holding on to the ravaged man’s coat, the poor guy can barely stand up straight.

“I had him.” Mila glares at Daryl and spits blood on the ground in front of her feet.

“I’d had him if ya’ didn’t tackle me.” Daryl scoffs back, still holding on to Jesus' collar.

“You’d kill that poor man if you’d catched him.” Mila replies, pointing at Jesus. “You’re not exactly sensible when you’re angry.”

“Oh yeah right, you’re the one to talk!” Daryl scoffs back. “What about that guy’s kneecaps-”

“I had every right-” Mila cries. “He sliced my guts with a fucking machete!”

”You two are related of some sort?” Jesus doubtfully breaks in.

”Married!”

“What?” Daryl sputters, looking both terrified and shocked at her sudden, out of the blue exclamation.

“Feels like it!” Mila replies and spits more blood; they’re arguing like they were married at least. “Pridurok...” She mutters, eyes locked at Daryl.

”Oh-” Jesus pants and looks just as confused as Daryl does, plus a bit tufted. “Right-”

“Shut up.”

Pow! Jesus falls to the ground. Mila rolls her eyes; why does he have to punch everyone? She snorts and turns, stepping through the tall grass in the direction of the car. Damn hypocrisy, she thinks to herself. She passes Rick, who walks in the opposite direction out in the tall grassy field, holding his bloody knife, but ignores him. She’s frankly grumpy and her eye hurts. But she halts when she doesn’t spot the truck.

“Where the fuck is the truck!?”

She looks around. It’s nowhere to be seen. As she lets her gaze sweep over the field she catches sight of something behind some trees, in the small pond.

“Shit.” Rick comes up at her side, eyes locked at the truck that’s sinking further down the pond. “He must’ve knocked it into neutral.”

“Now what?”

They both turn and start walking back towards Daryl and the man in the grass.

“Are you alright?” Rick looks at Daryl. “Let's go check them cars, get the hell out of here.”

“What about the guy?” Mila points at Jesus.

“What about him?” Daryl asks.

“Well, he was actually nice, saved you.” She replies.

“Hm.”

“Did he ever pull a weapon on you?” Rick asks.

“Fine.” Daryl sputters. “Fuck- fine. Let’s put him up a tree.”

“No. He’ll come back with us.” Mila corrects, giving Daryl a sharp gaze. “Enough of that grumpy attitude.” She nods at Jesus. “Come on, let’s find a car. Drag him with you.”

They find a working car about fifteen minutes later. Daryl throws Jesus into the backseat. Mila takes the wheel, Daryl calls shotgun and Rick takes place next to Jesus, who’s still knocked out and they start driving back to Alexandria.

“He took a pretty hard hit.” Rick says and meets Mila’s gaze in the mirror, then looks at Jesus. “Denise needs to look him over.”

“Try to wake him.” Mila suggests. “See if he’s got permanent brain damages.”

Rick shakes the man, who grunts and starts moving. He blinks and jumps.

“You’re alive.” Rick says. “Good.”

“Yeah-” Jesus grunts again. “Why am I in a car? I heard something about a tree.”

“It was a joke.” Mila says, meeting his drowsy eyes in the mirror.

“It wasn’t.” Daryl looks at her.

“You wouldn’t have gone through with it.” Mila gives him a sharp gaze. “You wouldn’t have left him.”

“I would’ve-” Daryl nods upwards. “Right up in a tree.”

“He’s a comedian.” Mila says, once again looking at Jesus in the mirror, not taking notice of Daryl’s irritated expression. “Or at least tries to be.”

”Where have you been all my life?” Jesus chuckles and looks at her in the mirror and sends off a radiant smile that tells Mila that he’s using mouthwash on a daily basis.

”Ey- knock it out!” Daryl reaches back and slaps the man on his tied up hands.

Mila lets out a faint laugh. Huh, look at that; a jealous Daryl Dixon. Jeez Louise, there’s nothing to worry about, Mila thinks to herself, but Daryl’s poor self-confidence doesn’t make it easy for him. She pats her jealous, southern knight on the back of the hand.

”He looks like a hippy dippy orthodox priest.” Mila gives the surly, blushing archer a soft gaze. “Calm down, Dixon.” She turns to the rear view mirror and the hippy dippy man in the backseat. If papa was here, he wouldn’t have let him inside the car. Not in a million years. “No offense, but you do.” She says to Jesus.

”None taken.” He nods at her with a curious gaze. “What’s up with the accent?”

”Up and running, thanks for noticing.”

While steering the car with her knees, Mila once again takes out the case of cd’s, now missing the one with sixties-music, takes out a random cd and puts it in the stereo. She adjusts the volume-wheel on the radio and increases the sound of “The Chain” and starts to tap the wheel while singing along.

“You’re a really good singer.” The man in the back calls after a while.

“Thanks.” Mila replies backwards. “I’m a dental nurse.”

“Did you sing to the patients?”

“To the kids, sometimes. Some terrified men before they, you know-” She closes her eyes and pretends to snore. “Put them down.”

“I’m sure that’s not what it’s called.” Rick replies.

“I made them sleep.” Mila shrugs her shoulders. “Right?”

“Not what it sounded like.” Daryl says and meets her eyes, with a slightly amused expression on his stern face.

“Anyway I think it sounded beautiful.” Jesus says.

”I like this guy!” Mila looks at him and Rick with an excited smile upon her face, nodding her head to the beat of the music. ”Can we keep him?”

“He ain’t a dog.”

��But he’s quite fun!”

”You see.” Jesus says triumphantly. “She likes me.”

That’s it for Daryl. He turns and once again starts to try and hit the guy. Mila hits the brakes and the car stops with such force that Jesus is thrown into the headrest of the passenger seat, and dozes off.

“Knock it off!” Mila roars. “Or I won’t drive an inch further.”

The angry mom-voice isn’t only effective on children, it works really well on adult men as well. Daryl mutters and returns to his seat. Mila steps on the gas pedal again and continues to drive. Outside, it eventually starts to get dark. The sky is clear and the stars look brighter than ever. When she brakes at the gate to Alexandria, it’s pitch black. Daryl gets out, opens the gate and she drives into the community; a sensation of calm spreads throughout her body. That’s when she remembers.

“Shit.”

“What?” Rick asks.

“Forgot to get marshmallows.”

When the gate’s closed and locked, Daryl gets into the car again and Mila drives up to the infirmary, parks and the engine dies. The three of them get out of the car and stretch. What a fucking day, Mila thinks to herself, while watching Rick and Daryl dragging the still unconscious Jesus out of the backseat. They carry him up the stairs to the infirmary, knock on the door and wait. Denise opens in a few seconds.

“Sorry to wake you up.” Rick excuses himself before Denise can say something.

From her spot at the car, Mila notices Denise’s confused expression as she notices the lifeless man.

“Who is this?!”

“Come on, man, he's heavy.” Daryl says to Rick. “Oh, that thing-” He looks at Denise. “Uh, didn't work out. It's this asshole's fault. Sorry.”

While they bring Jesus inside, Mila leans up against the hot hood and looks at the stars. Juri has probably been asleep for a while now. She doesn’t know what time it is, but it’s late. Rick and Daryl walk out of the infirmary just as she catches sight of the pole star.

“He’s taken care of.” Daryl says as he walks up to her. He examines her in detail in the faint glow of the infirmary. “Let’s patch ya’ up.”

Mila doesn’t struggle. She’s tired and hungry. They go back into the infirmary and she sits down on one of the beds with clean, white sheets and exhales. There’s a mirror in the corner of the room. When Mila sees her reflection, she sighs even deeper; she has a pretty neat blackeye and a cracked lip. Daryl sits down on the stool in front of her.

“A hell of a blackeye-” He squints at the look of her pulsating, sore eye. “Ya’ really took a few punches.” He takes the bottle with alcohol and a wipe and pours some onto it. “Like Rocky Balboa.”

“Yeah, but I won.” Mila replies.

“Just like Rocky.” Daryl replies. “Still though- hell of a fight.”

“Better me than you I guess.” Mila swears as Daryl, as gently as he can, wipes her cracked lip with the drenched wipe. “You’d kill him.”

Mila nods over Daryl’s shoulder, towards the knocked out man lying on the narrow hospital bed, handcuffed to the bed frame. Daryl turns, looks at Jesus, then scoffs.

“I’ll kill him if he ever puts his hands on ya’ again.” Daryl mutters and throws the wipe over the room, into the trash bin.

“Don’t have to, I’ll do it myself.” Mila smiles, but grimaces; it hurts to smile. “I know.” Daryl replies. “Sorry ‘bout earlier. For yellin’ at ya’.”

“You gotta work on that temper.” Mila states. “It ain’t good for the blood pressure.”

With a grunt, as much of an answer as anything, Daryl puts his hand at the back of her head, brings it to his lips and kisses her on the forehead.

“Ain’t gonna need to stitch ya’ up.” He says. “Come on, let’s get ya’ to bed, Rocky.”

“Yes, Adrien.” Mila grins wryly. “What about Jesus Christ Superstar?” She nods towards the other bed.

“Yeah we’ll deal with him later.”

“You gonna tuck me in first?” Mila asks. “I’d love that, but honestly, I need a quick shower before bed. I think I might have caught every possible STD there is from that disgusting toilet at the gas station.”

#jersey on my mind #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fandom #the walking dead fanficition #the walking dead daryl #twd #twd fanfiction #twd daryl #twd fanfic

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chilling-seavey · 4 years ago

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Heartbreak Hotel (d.s.) - Chapter Twenty-Seven

A/N So many variables and such little time

It had been six days of Loretta living in a Los Angeles without Daniel. Eleven since they had even spoken. The first few days were easy – as easy as it could be with your soulmate always on your tastebuds – and Loretta distracted herself with Corbyn as often as she could. Corbyn had been fired from the car shop due to Christian ratting his violent outburst out to the manager but it didn’t seem to phase him; it only meant more time with his girlfriend. Corbyn attended a local Los Angeles community college so he didn’t have to move which also allowed for Loretta to never have to leave his side. Loretta was riding this bit of a high at first as she spent day in and day out with her long-term boyfriend and they went on various dates throughout the week but as the days passed on, her mood started dropping. Right around the day Daniel left for upstate.

With Daniel gone, Corbyn permitted Loretta to visit the diner again – although he always went with her anyway – so she was back to her 3:00 strawberry shakes although they didn’t seem to taste as good as she once remembered. This Friday was no different.

Corbyn and Loretta sat at a booth in the diner for a late lunch, waiting for their meals with a shake in front of her and a Coca-Cola in front of him. Corbyn was talking about something to do with his car and what he had planned to do in regard to aesthetic improvements on it, but Loretta was hardly listening. She was staring right past him to the jukebox on the far wall, expressionless, milkshake almost completely untouched in front of her. Corbyn didn’t ask her if she was okay.

Her own boyfriend didn’t seem to see her melancholies but Jack and Zach sure did. They had taken their food orders – Corbyn ordering for her again – and brought over their drinks without much additional conversation. Loretta still thanked them quietly by name but without looking at them at all costs. Jack and Zach stood at their usual spots behind the front counter, watching the couple from a distance as Corbyn rambled on and Loretta sat in perfect silence.

“That’s sad.” Zach mumbled, rolling some cutlery into the paper napkins.

“Sure is.” Jack sighed, looking over at his best friend. “I wonder how Daniel’s doing.”

“No better probably.”

“Yeah, well…he did all he could.”

Jack and Zach stared back across the restaurant to the couple.

“-Hopefully I can finish her up by next summer. We’re going to be driving in style before you know it, doll.” Corbyn smiled, lifting his glass bottle of pop to take a sip from the pink and white striped straw.

Loretta didn’t answer.

“Hey, doll. What’s going on?” Corbyn glanced over his shoulder as if to see what she was staring at. “Are you sulking just because I didn’t give you a nickel for the jukebox?”

Loretta shifted her eyes to his face blankly, “No. Sorry. I’m just not feeling myself recently.”

“Time of the month?”

Loretta audibly scoffed at him and leaned down to sip her milkshake; the whipped cream already almost melted into the pink ice cream with how long it had been sitting untouched on the table.

“It’s not my time of the month, Corbyn.” she grumbled.

“So then what’s your issue?” he leaned back in the booth and pulled out his pack of cigarettes from his leather jacket. He waited for her to answer while he set one past his lips and flicked on his lighter. She watched him silently, flatly, as he took a long drag, letting the smoke tumble from his lips as he tucked the lighter back in his pocket and plucked the cigarette out of his mouth by two fingers.

The couple stared at each other as if waiting for the other to speak first.

They didn’t need to as Jack and Zach brought over their plates and set them in front of each of them.

“Can we get you anything else?” Zach asked.

Corbyn waved his hand to get him to leave but Loretta replied with a gentle, “No, we’re fine, Zach. Thank you.”

Jack and Zach shuffled back off to let them eat in peace. Or what was as peaceful as it seemed it was going to get.

“Dammit. I just lit this.” Corbyn grumbled as he stamped out his cigarette in the ash tray on the table. He then grabbed his fork and knife and dug in right away.

Loretta picked up her fork but let it hover in the air for a moment as she watched her boyfriend take his first bite. He chewed, humming contentedly at the flavour. Loretta didn’t taste anything.

She looked down to her roast beef and suddenly didn’t feel hungry. She set her fork back on the table and folded her hands in her lap.

Corbyn glanced up at her mid bite and flicked his eyes between her flat expression and her untouched lunch, “You better eat that or I’ll have you pay for it yourself.”

Loretta ignored him, staring down at her lap as she fiddled with the ribbon of her dress around her waist.

Corbyn sighed, taking a drink of his pop to washdown his mouthful before speaking, “What’s with your attitude, Loretta?”

She answered before she could think it through, “Why are we lying to each other, Corbs? Why are we making each other miserable?”

Corbyn frowned for a moment and rested his elbows on the table to lean towards her, “What are you talking about?”

His grey eyes were narrowed in her direction, his jaw clenched.

Loretta wasn’t scared of him or his intense stare; she only laughed humourlessly, shaking her head slightly, “I think you know just as well as I do what I’m talking about.”

“No. I don’t.”

Loretta pushed her plate away from her to rest her folded hands on the tabletop, “We’re not soulmates, Corbyn, and we both know it but we’re too scared to admit that to each other.”

Corbyn’s eyebrows furrowed and he sat back a little, clearing his throat, “What…why…why are you saying that?”

“When I turned eighteen, I realized you weren’t my soulmate but I was too crazy about you to tell you the truth. It’s been a few months now and I tried to ignore it but I cannot anymore. I want you to tell me the truth. Am I your soulmate?”

Corbyn dropped his gaze to the table.

“Corbyn. Tell me the truth.” Loretta said sternly.

He licked his lips slowly in thought, raising his eyes up to hers again and he tapped his fingertips on the top of the table anxiously for a second. He took a shaking breath, “No…you’re…you’re not.”

Loretta knew it was coming but she still felt like it was a stab to her heart and she stumbled over her next breath.

The two fell into silence for a moment. Corbyn set his elbows back on the table and held his face in his hands through a deep exhale. The let the news rest heavy over their diner table.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Loretta breathed.

“Because I loved you.” Corbyn admitted softly. “I wanted to wait until you turned eighteen because maybe it wouldn’t work properly until we were both of age. Then you told me that I was yours and I just…I felt like I was…fucked up or something.”

“Me too.” Loretta said. “I didn’t want to lose you…I had those rose-coloured glasses for the first bit of our relationship.”

Corbyn cracked a small smile in agreement but it faded nearly just as quickly as it was formed. Neither spoke for another moment.

Corbyn sat back against the booth and raised his eyes up to her again, “So is he really your soulmate?”

Loretta nodded slightly, waiting for him to start to yell, but he didn’t. Corbyn only ran his hands over his face again with a heavy sigh.

“I don’t want to lose you, Lori.” Corbyn mumbled.

“I didn’t want to lose you either.” Loretta said, “But it’s so different now…the universe is literally forcing us together and…now…with him so far away it’s like…I have no energy.”

“You can’t biologically function without him now.” Corbyn stated the known fact.

Loretta nodded sadly.

Corbyn did too.

A beat of silence.

Loretta reached for her necklace and carefully unclasped the chain around her neck and held it out to him, “I’m sorry.”

Corbyn took a shuttering breath and shrugged as coolly as he could manage as he took his ring back from her, “Not your fault.”

Loretta picked up her small purse from the booth beside her and opened it with trembling hands, pulling out a few dollar bills to pass over to him, “For lunch.”

“No.” Corbyn gently pushed her hand back. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Corbyn pulled a tight smile, struggling to keep looking at her in fear of completely breaking down, “Just…get outta here.”

Loretta didn’t move for a moment, as if it was the last time she was ever going to see him in her life. She nodded once and got up from the booth, stopping to press a kiss to his cheek without another word and rushed towards the front counter. Corbyn watched her go.

Jack and Zach were startled to see her stood right in front of them, her green eyes full of so many emotions that neither of them could read off of her.

Loretta flicked her eyes between the both of them before taking a nervous inhale and speaking strongly, “I need you guys to do me a huge favour and drive me upstate. Right now.”

#🍓#soulmate au #soulmate!wdw #daniel seavey #corbyn besson #jack avery #zach herron #jonah marais #why dont we #why dont we fanfic #1950s #daniel seavey fanfic #au

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verai-marcel · 5 years ago

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The Light That You Shine (RDR2 Fanfic, John Marston x F!Reader, Chapter 1 of 6, 18+)

Summary: John Marston was proud to be part of the VDL Riders, a biker gang led by Dutch van der Linde, and had been with them since he had run from home at the age of 15. He and his makeshift family lived by three principles: live free, help those who need it, and punish those who deserve it. For five years, his gang was all he cared about and nothing else mattered. But then John meets you, and his priorities start to change.

Author’s Notes: Go check out @veradia’s biker AU RDR2 art for what inspired me to write this. This is a prequel to Before This Dance Is Through, so everyone is 6 years younger; John is about 20 in this story and so are you, my dear reader.

Tags: prequel fic, eventual smut, romance, drama, violence, cheesy 80s vibe even though it's 2012, modern AU, switching POVs

AO3 Link is here, sweetheart.

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Chapter 1 - Start at the End

Word count: 2032

“Dammit Morgan, you could’ve warned me!”

Arthur grinned as he slapped John’s back. “Well, that wouldn’t be any fun, now would it?”

The others laughed while John rubbed the back of his head, leaning down to pick up the can of beer. It looked too shaken up to open at this point, so he set it on the table and glared at his brothers. Stalking past them towards the mini-fridge, he pulled out another beer, popped it open and took a long gulp. Dressed in his favorite black leather jacket over a plain white shirt, ripped black jeans, a chain on his belt to keep his wallet from being stolen, and scuffed biker boots, John looked like he bought all of his clothes in the late 80s and never changed.

“So, what’re we doing tonight?” Javier asked, leaning against the mezzanine railing. He had his medium length hair tied up, strands of it falling from the hair tie to frame his angled face. His leather vest and his blue jeans were impeccably clean, and not a single misplaced thread was on his V-neck shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He carried his favorite combat knife in a holster on his hip, hidden under the vest, and he wore black fingerless leather gloves.

Lenny sat on the couch, his freshly polished black boots propped up on the coffee table. He looked like he didn’t quite belong in a motorcycle club, in his black pants and black T-shirt. His white cowboy hat was clean, his white blazer crisp. He had his own knife holster, concealed under his jacket.

Sean was standing behind the couch, leaning against the back of it. He wore a green headband around his shoulder length hair, fancying himself an Irish Rambo, choosing to wear a blue athletic cut T-shirt and olive green khakis. He wore his brown Timberland boots, the same ones he had since he joined the gang. They looked dirty and scuffed to hell, but they still did their job, so he had no reason to buy new ones. His green & red striped flannel was tied around his waist, hiding a knife holster.

Charles was sitting back in one of the arm chairs catty-corner to the couch. He had his long hair braided tight, the sides of his head shaved. His dark blue peacoat was open to show his black turtleneck and blue jeans. Both of his black biker boots had knife holsters with a few throwing knives.

They all looked towards Arthur, who shrugged as he looked at all of them. He had his worn cowboy hat on with his old bomber jacket over a grey shirt, faded blue jeans, and cowboy boots. He pulled a cigarette out and lit it with his silver zippo lighter, breathing in and letting out a puff of smoke before he responded.

“Dutch wants us to go run security at some rich feller’s house party.”

“And how are we supposed to manage t’at? I don’t have any fine clothin’ for the occasion,” Sean groused.

“No amount of clothing can save you,” Javier joked.

Sean glared as the others laughed.

“Dutch said we just wear black polos and black jeans so we look like a security company,” Arthur said once the laughter died down.

“So. Is there an alternative motive for this job?” Charles asked.

“Of course there is,” Lenny said confidently. “There’s no way Dutch would deal with those kind of folks without a reason.”

Arthur nodded. “Word is that the rich feller has quite the car collection. We sneak in after the party while everyone’s wasted and drive a few of them outta there. Swap out the plates, get a paint job over at Hosea’s, done deal.”

“And if they have alarms or kill switches?” John asked.

“You know how to hot wire,” Arthur sniped. “You, Javier, and Lenny can deal with it.” He walked past all of them and headed down the stairs. "Meet you all back here by 6pm."

John shrugged. As they split up to prepare for the job, he looked around the small warehouse they called their biker club. Walking down the stairs, he went past their bike shop area underneath the mezzanine and paused for a moment. They had slowly built this place up from scratch, bringing in old furniture for their hang out space and tools to take care of their bikes.

And on the other side of the warehouse were two offices that had been converted into bedrooms. While the others had their own places to live, John and Arthur lived at the club, having both been orphans and taken in by Dutch. Their rooms weren’t anything fancy, just a little bit of room to sleep and store their worldly possessions. John headed to his room to take a nap.

Instead, he lay on his old mattress, staring at the ceiling. He had been with the gang for five years, since he ran away from his foster home. His mother had died six years ago from a drug overdose. When she was lucid, which wasn’t very often, she was kind, even as her eyes bled sadness at the edges; those were the memories he held onto the tightest. He didn’t even know who his father was, or if he was even still alive, but he knew that if he ever met him in person, he'd knock his lights out for leaving his mother such a wreck.

After he had been sent to foster care, his foster parents didn’t try to understand him, they only tried to mold him into what they thought a proper young man should be. So he ran away. When Dutch found him, scrounging for food in a trash can behind the warehouse, he took him in. Gave him shelter.

Then there was Arthur. He was like a big brother, taught him how to fend for himself, taught him what it meant to give more than you received, even if it came with insults and punches to the face at times.

As more outcasts joined the gang, they also became his family, his brothers. Javier, Sean, Lenny, and Charles, one by one, they all joined and quickly became an intrinsic part of his life. He’d never want for more than this.

But lately, Dutch seemed off. For the past year, John had noticed him taking bigger risks, sending them on more violent jobs, and slowly stepping away from the hands-on work, leaving it to “the younger, faster men,” as he called them. There was a tinge of blind desperation in how Dutch led them now, almost as if he wanted to push them towards something greater, but wasn’t sure what that something was.

Rolling over, he stared at the wall covered in Led Zeppelin, Eagles, and other classic rock posters. He looked at the one Metallica poster he had and smiled wryly as he remembered Arthur throwing it at him, snarling “happy fucking birthday”, and slamming his door. He later found out that Arthur had snuck into the concert, stolen a poster, and ran half a mile to get away. And all because John had whined about not being able to go that night because he was sick.

He sighed and got up. He wasn’t going to get any sleep now. Leaving his room, he tinkered with his Honda Shadow Aero, his pride and joy, until it was time to go.

***

“We certainly look dangerous,” Charles said with a hint of humor in his voice as he calmly got out of the gang’s Sprinter van.

“That’s because we are,” Javier said matter-of-factly as he hopped out next.

Everyone bounded out of the van, with John the last out. He pulled the sliding door shut and followed the others into the house, hanging back as he listened to Arthur talk with the party host about the job. He trailed behind them as they were led around the house and made mental notes about where the party goers were allowed to go and where they were forbidden.

Once they were left to their own devices, Arthur turned around. “Alright men, let’s get to work.”

***

The party was wild, the party-goers were disgusting, and at the end, half of them were drunk, and the other half were passed out.

It was almost far too easy to sneak into the garage, pick a couple cars that were not too flashy, and drive them off the premises.

As they took off down some quiet back roads to lose any would-be followers, John sat and stared out the window into the pitch black night as Arthur drove with the window rolled down, his arm hanging out the window. Lenny and Sean had taken a car while Charles and Javier had left the party earlier, driving the van to Hosea’s shop.

“Hey.”

“What.”

John scratched his beard. “Do ya think—”

“I think more than you,” Arthur interrupted.

“Dammit Arthur, I’m tryin’ to be serious here!”

“Calm your balls,” Arthur said gruffly. “Yer so easy to rile up, I can’t help it.”

John let out an exasperated sigh. “Do you think Dutch is… do you think he’s tired of this? Of the club?”

Arthur was silent for a few moments. “Why do you say that?”

“He hasn’t been around much lately. He tells us to go do these jobs that are more and more dangerous. We haven’t done a charity drive or anythin’ nice for the community in the past two years.”

“Yeah, I noticed too. I don’t know, I’m sure somethin’ will come around. Maybe he’s been busy just tryin’ to get us steady work.”

“We used to just get jobs that were just jobs. Now we always have some double crossin’ or thievin’ or some shit that could get us in serious trouble!”

Arthur was silent for a little too long.

“Arthur?”

His sigh was long and tired. “I know. I know.”

The rest of the drive was silent as they drove the two hours back to the city.

***

After they had dropped the cars off at Hosea’s car shop, Charles drove them all back to the club in the van. It was 4AM by the time they all got back, and collectively they decided to call it a night and get back together the next night. As the others took their bikes and headed to their own homes, Arthur glanced over at John, who was still silent, still thinking.

“Yer goin’ to think yerself into the ground there,” Arthur commented.

John shrugged. “I can’t ignore it anymore.”

Arthur nodded. “Yeah. Let’s talk to Dutch tomorrow.”

As Arthur headed back to his room, John stepped outside and leaned against the brick wall. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it with his disposable lighter, and slowly took a drag as he stared up at the twilight sky, the stars barely visible in the city. He had an itch to be out in the open again, to sleep under the river of stars like he did in the desert. Or even to be out of a city, just for a while.

John finished his cigarette and slunk back into the warehouse, crawling into bed and staring at the ceiling until the sun came up before finally passing out when even his churning thoughts could no longer keep him awake.

***

“I swear, if we have to hear one more lecture about not having enough faith…”

Arthur just shook his head as he followed John out of the convenience store, quietly drinking his soda.

“We just asked one damn thing, and he blows up at us like we’re questioning his entire existence!”

“You know how he is,” Arthur mumbled.

“I know how he was. How he is now… he ain’t the same.”

John’s statement was met with silence.

“You know I’m right,” John insisted.

Arthur let out a long sigh. “Well, what am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know!” John looked away. "All I know is that things ain't the same anymore," he mumbled as he stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and went silent as they walked back to the warehouse.

"Well," Arthur said after a while, "It weren't us that changed, that's for sure."

----------------------

Chapter 2 coming soon!

#john x reader #john marston #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #writing #biker au #lemon fanfic #eventual smut #nsft #modern au

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pinnithin-writes · 4 years ago

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Good Jokes

Chapter 16

Tommy fell asleep in the Cadillac.

He didn’t mean to, and he didn’t doze for very long. Bubby’s erratic approach to driving made sure of that; he yanked the vehicle around like it was a bull instead of a car. Tommy was in the middle of wondering if this man even had a license when he drifted off, head lolling toward Gordon’s shoulder.

He’d been running without sleep for nearly four days, adrenaline jumpstarting in his veins over and over again by their nightmarish circumstances, and the seat cushion of the Caddy was the softest thing he’d sat on since the week began. He was too exhausted, even, to think about Gordon’s thigh pressed against his in the backseat, or their shoulders jostling together as the car whipped through the garage.

When Bubby crunched into a wall, Tommy snapped awake again.

Gordon nudged him enthusiastically and pointed through the front windshield. “Good thing Benrey’s our hood ornament,” he said, leaning in close to be heard over the roar of the engine. “He can’t die.”

Tommy’s returning laugh was tired. He rubbed his face, accidentally elbowing Gordon as he did so. There was no reason for him to sit this close to him - the rightmost passenger seat was wide open - but he appreciated the proximity. Gordon was warm and solid, and would have made for a delightful spot to nap on if the sound of distant gunfire didn’t startle him back on the alert.

“Bubby, get the fuck outta here, the Marines are coming!” Gordon shouted.

In the rearview mirror, Tommy could see Bubby baring his teeth in a grimace as he cut the wheel one way and the other. The car inched bit by bit out of the alcove he’d gotten them all stuck in, bobbing the heads of his passengers back and forth with each press of the gas pedal.

“All you need to do is parallel park,” Dr. Coomer said, throwing a nervous glance over his shoulder at the soldiers charging in their direction.

“Learn how to park,” Benrey added. He strolled across the hood and stepped lightly over Coomer’s head, settling into the open seat on Gordon’s right.

The man paid him no attention, practically standing in the back seat as he craned his neck toward the immediate danger. “We’re not parking – god, we’re in an Austin Powers situation!” he growled in exasperation. A sudden jolt of the vehicle made him lose his footing and he ducked down again. “Fuck this!”

Bubby finally manhandled the car into a driveable position and peeled out, cackling madly as gunshots whizzed over their heads.

“Fine work!” Coomer patted the other scientist’s arm approvingly. “Positive thinking in action.”

Gordon finally noticed Benrey lounging in the seat beside him when the entity smacked him in the face with an elbow as he put his hands lazily behind his head. Gordon grit his teeth and rubbed his temple, expression soured by the company.

“Oh, hey, Benrey,” he grumbled. “Welcome to the ride.”

“There’s – there’s a-“ Benrey’s razor teeth glimmered as he broke off to laugh. “There’s a pungent smell right beside me, I don’t know.”

Gordon rolled his eyes. “Oh my god, shut up.”

The Cadillac glanced off the side of the tunnel as Bubby swung them around a dangerous curve. The HEV suit colliding with Tommy’s ribcage just about knocked the wind out of him.

He pitched forward, gripping a hand on the back of the driver’s seat as he called to the prototype. “Do you know how to drive?” he asked.

Bubby revved the engine and didn’t answer.

The sped out of the parking garage, leaving the Marines behind in the wake of squealing tires and the smell of gasoline. The Caddy was making a loud juddering sound as it careened through the tunnel and, while Tommy was no mechanic, he guessed that most Cadillacs weren’t supposed to make that noise. Still, it was preferable to the sound of Benrey screeching about a road trip at the top of his lungs.

“Gentlemen, we don’t even need to go to the Lambda Lab,” Coomer declared triumphantly as they cleared the garage and emerged into the bright sun of day. We’re going home!”

“We’re going to the moon!” Benrey interjected.

What they were going to do was crash, Tommy realized. Bubby gunned the vehicle straight toward the parking compound’s heavy metal door.

“Yeah! Fuck it!” Gordon said, throwing up his hands. “Leave the world as it is! Oh, no, no-no-no-n- d-“

Their necks collectively snapped forward from the impact as the Cadillac crunched in on itself against the gate. Tommy groaned and held his head in his hands while Benrey chuckled darkly to himself.

“Bro!” Gordon burst out once he recovered.

Bubby was calmly climbing out of the vehicle, giving the smoking hood an unconcerned look. “Oh, the engine stalled,” he said neutrally.

“The whip- the whiplash!” Gordon insisted, rubbing his neck and wincing. “Come on. Come on.”

Tommy hastily found the handle and popped open the door as soon as he registered the ominous hissing sound coming from the front of the car. He slid out and hustled to a safe distance, trusting the others to follow his lead.

“Yep, it’s fucked,” Bubby muttered as he strode out of harm’s way.

Coomer, following suit, gave him a light tap on the small of his back. “You’ll just have to repair the Cadillac after the test,” he reassured him.

God, that never got old, Tommy thought as he snickered. He reached a hand behind him to tug Gordon along and was met with empty air.

Bubby’s voice rang out across the yard. “Gordon, you have to bail!”

Tommy whirled in time to see the car turn into a fireball with Gordon inside. He reacted without thinking, flinging up a psychic barrier between him and the explosion right before the blast took him. Gordon was launched thirty feet backward and tumbled into the dust, singed and smoking. There was a beat of silence where the man was worryingly still, but then he let out a groan and shielded his face from the sun with his arm.

Gravel crunched under Tommy’s shoes as he hurriedly approached him. “Mr. Freeman, that was so close,” he said, fighting off the tightness in his voice as he knelt beside him. “Why didn’t you get out of the car?”

Gordon’s eyes slowly focused on Tommy’s face, still disoriented from the impact. “Cause I didn’t – cause I-”

“Gordon, it’s dangerous to remain in a vehicle when the engine’s on fire,” Coomer interrupted, sounding concerned.

Carefully propping himself into a sitting position, Gordon’s gaze fixed on Benrey, who was studying the two of them with an amused smile, head tipped to the side. “Did this bitch put glue on the seat?” he demanded, flinging a hand in the entity’s direction. “My ass is sticky.”

The pile of wreckage that used to be a perfectly handsome Cadillac hissed and smoked in the following silence. Tommy glared at Benrey, knowing full well that he intended to kill Gordon before this journey was over. He’d had his fun, he’d gotten bored, and he was ready to discard him. Tommy helped an unsteady Gordon to his feet, keeping piercing eye contact with the entity as he did so.

Benrey just cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered across the yard, “You got pranked!”

He was lucky he was a healthy distance away from both of them.

---

No more nodding off, Tommy vowed to himself. The fifteen seconds he’d snatched in the backseat of the car would have to be enough to see them through the end of this. Now that he was certain Benrey had it in his head to put Gordon in the ground, he couldn’t afford to doze.

At the top of a communications tower, he set to work figuring out how the machine operated, focusing on the knobs and dials so he wouldn’t wander off to snoozeville. They were surrounded on all sides by heavy compound walls, strung up tight by electrical fencing, and it seemed like the only way out of this area was back underground. Gordon and the other scientists crowded around the radio while Benrey loitered on the edge of the tower, kicking his legs out over a ten story drop. The burning blue sky seared down on all of them.

Gordon’s soldier impersonation made a reappearance and Tommy had to bite the inside of his cheek to contain his laughter.

“Breaker, here, uh,” he stammered into the receiver, pitching his voice down to a hesitant rumble. “Delta – al – uh – zeta, um. I love… ch- killing innocent people… I am sole b-“

He was cut off by a cacophony of commands in the code they had intercepted earlier. As the static shrill from the machine grew louder and more insistent, Gordon and Bubby took the radio out with gunfire until the thing went quiet. Tommy shook out his shoulders as his ears rang. They could have just turned it off.

Dr. Coomer spoke up in the following silence. “Gordon, my ex-wife taught me all about military jargon before we broke up,” he informed him. “Would you like me to translate?”

Gordon nodded. “Yeah.”

“We’re fucked six ways from Sunday,” he said grimly.

In the meantime, Benrey had wandered over to the control panel for the device and was pressing buttons indiscriminately. “I’m scanning your feet,” he said, raising both his voice and his eyes toward Gordon.

Tommy folded his arms. Not this again. He had put up with years of Benrey’s bizarre feet obsession, and he was beginning to suspect it had less to do with a sexual association than it did with the fact that the entity probably didn’t have feet. He couldn’t be entirely sure - the last time he’d asked him about it, the entity had broken Tommy’s wrist.

“What?” Gordon asked, glancing down at where he stood atop the coordinate platform, “What is this?”

“It’s scanning your feet,” Benrey repeated, leering. “This is FootScanner HD, we’re gonna get high-res pictures of your feet, bro.”

Tommy caught a ripple of revulsion cross Gordon’s face. “I don’t want you to have pictures of my feet,” he responded, “I don’t s- I don’t want you to have pictures of my feet.”

Not to mention he was wearing heavy boots and he wasn’t even standing on a scanner, Tommy mused. He watched carefully as Gordon stepped down from the platform and belted the entity with his modified arm, sending him careening off the tower.

“Y’know what? Get off!” he growled.

Benrey was unfazed even as he fell. A distant call of “Gordon Feetman!” echoed off the compound walls.

Gordon folded over on himself with laughter. “He called me Gordon Feetman,” he giggled in astonishment, unable to form an appropriate comeback.

Tommy cast a surreptitious glance over the edge of the tower, searching until he caught sight of the entity uncrumpling himself limb by limb below. He shuddered and returned his attention to the machine while Gordon stepped back onto the platform to gain a better vantage of their surroundings.

This seemed relatively straightforward - punch in the coordinates, move the array, hit the button. He’d seen something similar at the VLA, about two hours outside Albuquerque, but those radio telescopes were used for observation while these were, well, for destroying everything. Shame.

Gordon’s voice tugged at his attention. “Have you scanned my feet enough times, Tommy?”

Tommy flicked his eyes up to meet Gordon’s and made a face of distaste. He liked the guy, but he didn’t have a particular interest in his feet.

“We’re not scanning your feet, dumbass,” Bubby snapped, equally put-off.

“Gordon, this is a radio array for calling down an air strike,” Coomer explained patiently.

He glanced down at the grid on the platform again, realization dawning on his face. “Ohhh. Oh, that’s what that is. Okay,” he stepped off the machine with a heavy clunk of his boots. “So Benrey was lying.”

“If you’d listened to the radio you would have known that,” Bubby huffed as he fiddled with the dials.

An astonished laugh shook his shoulders. “Tell Benrey to shut up!” he shot back defensively. “Tell him to stop – get him to stop! I need help.”

“No you shut up!” floated faintly from somewhere below them.

Tommy spared another look over the edge at the spot on the ground that was rapidly reconstituting itself. Benrey was getting worryingly fast at coming back to life. He pondered if the Resonance Cascade was affecting his abilities while Gordon continued to chuckle nervously.

Several stories beneath their feet, Benrey held up a middle finger, a gesture made all the more grotesque as his shattered arm knitted back together. Tommy frowned. Ass.

Chapter 15 <-----> Chapter 17

#ink #fanfiction #good jokes #part of my endeavor to relocate all my ao3 work #guns #violence #body horror #hlvrai

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harveywritings92 · 5 years ago

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When someone flirts/Asks you out in front of them: Altair,Malik.

Altair Modern AU: Y/n was taking community college courses for her job, She were currently on her free period before going home when her husband decided to stop by on his way home from work,And holy hell was he exhausted! The y/nat could see the bags under his eyes; poor thing looked dead on his feet! So, the y/hc woman told him to sit down and have a little rest and She'll drive them both home when she was done studying.

Altair was reluctant at first he wasn't really big on PDA let alone napping in public! but after some coaxing he agreed and His wife scooted forward on her chair letting him sit behind her, the Arab man wrapped his arms around her waist with his head resting on her shoulder,he gave her neck a small peck and relaxed.

Y/n didn't know how much time had passed, but she was suddenly brought out of her study trance by a coffee cup being put down, next to her laptop which confused her, Altair was still sleeping on her back. the y/ht woman a brow and looked to see who brought it and saw one of her classmates standing there with a eager smile. She couldn't remember his name. but knew he was in her class, He had a I'm better than you air which made Y/n mentally grimace...

She then heard chuckling and noticed the guys group of D-bag friends one of whom was a nasty girl,[NG/n] that just didn't like Y/n for some reason, the group was snickering at them. It took a moment for the y/wt woman to realize what was going on; because this was how she met Altair! through a cruel bet that backfired when he got to know Y/n and fell for her for real... When the truth came out, It took him nearly a year to win her back! and here they are four years later married.

She gave the guy a tight smile and asked what she could do for him? She mentally cringed as the guy gave her a false confession almost identical to Altair's saying he's noticed her from afar for a while now and wondered if she was free tonight? Y/n felt her husband tense up and his arms tighten around her waist he lifted head up and his golden eyes glared up at D-bag alight with murderous intent.

D-bag hadn't even noticed Altair he thought the mass behind Y/n was a hoodie laying over her backpack. So, when he found out it was a man he nearly jumped out of his shoes. "Holy shit who the fu-" D-bag yelped when the Arab man grabbed him by the front of his shirt.

"I'm only going to say this once..." Altair huffed as he rose to his full height lifting D-bag off his feet in the process said jerk looked ready to pissed himself. "Stay away from my wife..." Altair hissed loud for D-bag's friends to hear they all blanched as their stooge was thrown to the floor, Before Altair grabbed Y/n who just barely manage to put her things away as her Husband dragged her out of the library, He got them to the car and well....

Altair had a bit of meltdown! ranting about how shallow people can be, how arrogant, immature and miserable does one have to be to play with a girl's heart like that?!...And how stupid it was that He used be like that! He slammed his fist on the dash as his temper simmered only to be blindsided when Y/n gave him a small peck on the lips.

"No, You were never like that." His brows furrowed bemused wondering exactly where her mind was right now. "When you first approached me you were blank and hollow, nothing was there when you smiled." Y/n trailed off then watched some leaves swirl around in the wind outside. "I think it was right after you told me about the bet that I noticed the change..that desperation and raw emotion when ever you tried talking to me,That's what drew back to y-" She cut off now by Altair passing out on her lap, a small smile stretched on his scarred lips, the poor dear really was exhausted! "I'll tell you later, Rest well sweetie." Y/n cooed patting his head.

______________________________________________________________

Malik Modern AU: Y/n and Malik were at the movies waiting for some of her work friends, but the couple were confused why only one showed up, a man named Ryan who was dressed a little to nice for just watching the movies with friends...

while you and Ryan chatted Malik scanned to street trying to pinpoint were the rest of the group was? he saw someone duck behind a car. His eyes narrowed something fishy was going on here....

He was brought out of his thoughts by Y/n grabbing his hand and leading him inside during the entire movie Malik noticed the same group from outside hiding waay back in the theater, a frowned graced his lips and was about to tell Y/n to be cautious, when she suddenly leaned close to him while giving Ryan an uncomfortable look.

Her fiancee gave the man a pointed look causing him to sink into his chair, then he noticed Ryan kept trying to hold the y/hc woman's hand or put his arm around her he whispered something to her that made her grimace Malik tapped her on the shoulder and gave her a look that said *Do you want to switch?* she nodded timidly and the couple switched seats. Ryan frowned annoyed then took out his phone he didn't even try to hide it, as Malik read the texts.

(Ryan){Yo, does Y/n volunteer at hospital for amputees or something? Cus this guy will not Fcking leave!]

(Geoff)[Hey yur the one who pussy'd out and said it was group thing, just tell her it was date when you drop the guy off and ask 4 a do over or something...}

(Katty) [Wait...ur on a date with Y/n? ...Y/N L/n from [job department]?}

(Ryan) { Yeh Why?]

(Katty) [ Ya'll know she's getting married next week right?}

Malik resisted the urge to burst out laughing at Ryan's face as the ginger haired man scrutinized the text, like he wasn't reading it right then looked at the Arab man sitting next to him who seemed focused on the movie before going back to his phone.

(Ryan) {what does her fiancee look like?]

(Katty) [tall, middle eastern, black hair, has a prosthetic arm in a sling...I think his name is Milkweed?}

(Katty) [Malik*....damn phone.}

(Geoff) [Dude abort! get the hell outta there!}

Ryan blanched and gawked at Malik who was now staring right at him. "Everything okay Ryan?" he asked trying not to laugh as Y/n looked over her fiancee's shoulder, to see what her co-worker was doing? the ginger haired man coughed then sputtered something about needing the bathroom and ran out of the theater like the bat out of hell, knocking a few things out of peoples laps in the process, causing them to cuss him out.

"What was that that about?" She asked bemused why Ryan ran out here like someone told him his house was on fire? Malik just put his arm around her shoulder while watching the rest of the movie. "Oh nothing, he just forgot to do his homework." the brown eyed man mused pulling her close.

#assassin's creed x reader #Altair x Y/n #malik al sayf #Malik x y/n #Assassin's creed #modern au #scenario

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regular-nessian-trash · 5 years ago

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It’s Vegas, Baby - Chapter II

Summary: Nesta goes out to the store and so does Cassian. Classic Nesta, she thinks he’s stalking her. Trust me it’s more interesting than it sounds lol(I hope)

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I'm back on my grind yall *sunglasses emoji*

Nicknames:

Feyby- Feyre(its supposed to be like feyre and baby put together cause shes the baby of the family)

Nestella- Nesta(its supposed to be nesta and nutella. u will learn more later;)

Tiny Ancient One- Amren(kinda self explanatory)

Mor Boobiez Plz- Mor(idk i just thought it was funny lol)

"I'm home!" Nesta calls out to Feyre. She can smell pizza and instantly strides towards the kitchen, where she finds Feyre with a large cheese pizza still in the box, half-eaten.

"Finally! I was beginning to wonder if you and Cassian finally acknowledged the sexual tension between yourselves and fucked."

"Feyre! That is not appropriate to say at all! Cassian and I are barely colleagues, we will never be anything so stop with your meddling!" Nesta replied, trying to will down a bright red blush. Feyre and her boyfriend, Rhys, had this insane idea that she and Cassian were made for each other, it didn't help that Cassian was constantly flirting with her either.

"We're back!" Mor and Amren had just gotten home from some party, with Mor holding Duchess, their shared Chinese Crested Dog. When the four of them bought a penthouse together Feyre and Mor wanted a dog, and Nesta and Amren didn't. After begging and pleading with her sister and friend to please give him away after they adopted him they finally decided to just lock her, Amren, and Duchess in a room together. They all became friends, and they found out that Duchess was, in fact, a boy. They had been calling him Duchess for too long, though, so when they called him Duke he wouldn't reply so the name just stuck. When the rest of their inner circle found out-"the rest" being Cassian, Azriel, and Rhys- they didn't stop teasing them for days. In their defense, he had a very small you-know-what and he was a very ladylike boy.

"Bring my baby boy to me! Oh I wove you so much you wittle cutie pie!" Feyre was letting Duchess lick her face, making Nesta gag. Sure she loved the dog, but seriously, he licks his butt.

"Ugh, Mor, your cousin is working me to the bone! And he won't stop trying to push me and Cassian together! He thinks he can push us together just cause we “have hella sexual tension”! Also, I was thinking about this last night, Rhys is dating Feyre and if I'm Feyres sister and he's Cassians brother, that's literally incest!"

"You know they aren't actually brothers, right? They're just best friends." Mor replied, trying not to laugh at Nesta's flustered expression. She put down Duchess and reached for a slice of pizza. Everyone knew that it was just a matter of time before Nesta and Cassian got together. Nesta and Mor were the only single people in the house, not including Duchess. And Mor was just recently dumped so she was in a big love life meddling mood. Amren was dating some guy named Varian, and Feyre... Well, let's just say that it's a miracle that she's here right now and not out getting nailed by Rhys.

"I know that, but still. They refer to themselves as brothers."

"So you're saying that if they didn't call themselves brothers you would have sex with Cassian! I knew it!"

"No, Feyre, I am not saying that! Besides, he flirts with everyone so even if I was into him- which I am not - we probably wouldn't become a thing."

"Keyword being probably." Mor says with a smirk.

"Enough of all this bickering, I'm hungry and bored so someone turn on the T.V. while I make some popcorn." Amren quickly breaks them up before Nesta tears off someone's head.

~~~~~

Cassian pulled up at the townhouse he shared with his brothers. All the lights were turned off which meant that Az was sleeping, or not home. The former was more likely because Az usually got pizza on his rest nights and there were three cold slices of meat lovers pizza left. Cassian was so hungry, he ended up eating them cold. He fought back a moan at how delicious the pizza was. He would never understand how Nesta was able to be a vegetarian. Shit. He had been such a dick to Nesta earlier. She was genuinely concerned about him and he had just pushed her away.

Cassian pulled out his phone and checked instagram. Mor had posted a photo of her and Amren with their dog, Duchess, at a party. He didn’t know if he should laugh or cry at the fact that a misgendered dog had a better social life than he did.

~~~~~

“Ugh, Feyre, Tomas and his little gang showed up at work last night.” Nesta and Feyre were chilling in the kitchen, the latter making a breakfast spread that would put Disney Channel moms to shame. Amren and Mor were nursing killer hangovers, so Feyre made sure to bang around a ton in the kitchen.

“Again? A-fucking-gain? Nuthin new, nuthin changed? Same old shit. Same old fuckin shit.” Feyre replied, forgetting that Nesta had no idea what that reference meant.

“I told them to leave and that I almost had the money to pay them back, but Tomas just slapped my ass and said ‘sEe YoU oN yOuR nExT sHiFt’ then he got up and left.”

“You do realize that we could end all of this by just telling Rhys? I know you have this whole thing about your pride and shit, but we could tell Rhys and he could pay off all your debts to him.”

“Feyre, I appreciate it, but I need to fight my own battles. I got myself into this mess, so I sure as hell can get myself out of it. Plus, I don’t like the idea of feeling like I owe my current employer money.”

“Nesta, sweetie, I love you… BUT YOU NEED TO PUT YOUR DAMN PRIDE TO THE SIDE FOR LIKE, TWO SECONDS AND ACCEPT HELP!”

“FEYRE-”

“Okay, can we yell about Nesta's issues at some time other than 6am? Also, is that bacon I smell?” Mor walked in holding her head and wearing one of Nesta's sweatshirts with some leggings.

“Yes, fattie. And it’s like, 10:30.” Feyre slapped Mor's hand away from a stack of pancakes cooling on the countertop.

“And I do not have any issues, Mor. I’m not the one that went partying with a dog last night.”

“Nesta, that is exactly the reason why you have issues. If you went partying with Duchess, maybe you would loosen up a bit. God knows you need it.”

“Brat.” Nesta threw a piece of toast at Mor's head.

“Thanks! Hey, Feyre, pass the butter.” Feyre slid the butter across the counter and cursed loudly when it just slid on the floor at Mor's feet. Facedown.

“Really, Feyre?” Nesta said in an exasperated tone.

“I’m sorry! I thought she would catch it!”

“That was our last stick of butter, you absolute dingbat!” Nesta sighed and picked up the keys to her car.

“Where are you going?” Mor asked, ever the worried friend thinking she had caused a family feud.

“To the store. We need more milk and eggs anyways. Tell me if you guys are gonna go out while I’m gone.” Nesta walked out the door of their spacious apartment and made her way over to the elevator, pressing the ground level button. She stormed over to her car, got in, and slammed the door shut. On her way to the store, she noticed that one of the local book stores was having a sale. She tried to ignore the voice in her head telling her that she had piles of unread books in her room, and all over the other communal areas of the apartment. She would just pop in after picking up the groceries. No big deal. She could restrain herself. Maybe.

~~~~

Cassian woke up and made his way down the stairs towards the kitchen at 10am.

Hey sorry don’t be mad but here’s the shopping list. I had to go out.

~Azriel

“Unbelievable.” Cassian sighed and picked up the piece of paper attached to Azriel's little note and crumpled it up. Then he uncrumpled it because he remembered he needed to see what it said. Cassian walked up to his room and threw on a sweatshirt, some slip-on vans, and grabbed his keys. He couldn’t remember why they decided to share groceries. He wanted to in the beginning, but now that he woke up without any food in the house because his brothers had eaten all of it he was thinking or re-evaluating that decision. Cassian slid into his car and made his way to the store.

~~~~

When Nesta pulled up at the store she checked her phone and saw that Feyre had sent her a text while she was driving.

Feyby*: heyyyyyyyyy nes can you pleeeeeeeeeease get me some chocolate while you’re out :)?

Nestella*: k. anything else? im walking in now by the way

Feyby: nope! thank you love you! :)

Nestella: love you too

Nesta made her way towards the dairy aisle and picked up some 2% milk, a pack of four sticks of butter, and eggs. She quickly walked over to the candy aisle and began studying all her options, she took candy selecting very seriously.

“Nes?”

~~~~

Cassian walked into the store and quickly picked up all the stuff on the list. Once he got to the last few items written he realized he wanted ice-cream for a movie night with the boys. He walked over to the dairy aisle and picked up a tub of cookies n’ cream right when Nesta Archeron stormed past him towards the candy aisle. He followed her because, well, he wanted to talk to her. But he needed to act like he wasn't stalking her cause she might yell at him.

“Nes?”

“Mother Above, Cassian! You scared the shit out of me don’t you dare do that ever again!”

Oh well.

“How did you not hear me coming? Are you really that focused on chocolate?”

“I’m selecting some chocolate for Feyre, and she is very picky so I was focused on reading what the ingredients were in each bar.” She seemed to have recovered from the scare because she just grabbed a random chocolate bar and stormed past him.

“Obviously you don’t care that much if you’re willing to just grab a random bar and walk away!” Cassian yelled at Nesta. Some other shoppers began to stare at him so he quickly said “Don’t worry, we work together. I know her, I’m not some random creep haha.” That just got him more strange looks though so he just made his way towards self-checkout and paid for the items and skirted outta there.

~~~~

Nesta was so embarrassed while walking away from Cassian. People were staring at her! Ugh, Cassian needs to learn to not yell in public places. She walked over to her car after checking out and loaded her groceries into the boot. She needed a black iced coffee stat. Nesta began the quick drive to one of the local coffee shops and once she arrived she quickly sent the girls a text letting them know where she was.

Nestella: hey bitches im getting coffee you hoes want anything

Feyby: i want a mocha frappe pleeease

Tiny Ancient One*: just get me a black americano girl

Mor Boobiez Plz*: i wanna iced coffee with whipped cream and caramel

Nestella: okay for everyone except Mor cause wtf that's not even an item on the menu

Mor Boobiez Plz: it is i swear! just ask them for it they did it when i asked!

Nestella: fine

“What can I get for you?” The guy working the register asked in a very monotone voice.

“One black iced coffee, one black americano, one mocha frappe, and one iced coffee with whipped cream and caramel sauce.”

“We don’t do that last one-” Nesta gave him a withering glare and he immediately changed his mind on what he was about to say.

“Those will be ready soon ma’am. Can I get a name for the order?”

“Nesta. Thank you.” Nesta walked over to the opposite side of the counter to wait while their coffee was being prepared.

“That was quite impressive the way you scared him into doing what you wanted him to, Sweetheart.”

“Cassian! Are you stalking me? Go away.”

“I’m not stalking you, I’m just here to get some coffee.” He smirked at her and picked up a latte that was set down beside him. He took a sip and looked Nesta up and down before smirking and saying “Hot.” he winked at her and left before she could yell at him. If he was being honest the coffee was actually the perfect temperature, but he just loved getting under Nesta Archerons skin.

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fortune-fool02 · 5 years ago

Text

Strange Behaviour

Vampire Speedwagon x female reader

Requested by: @pbpetrichor

I love Vampire Speedwagon! Thank you for the request and please enjoy.

[Name] made her way through the twisting streets, knowing exactly where she was going despite the maze-like structure of the place. The bag of newspapers hung from her shoulder as she posted them to the required houses.

There was always one house that she enjoyed going to. Speedwagon’s house. The blonde haired male and [Hair colour] female would often spend hours talking about common interests and bits of gossip [Name] would hear from the posh, rich people.

He would share stories of his own little adventures of when he travelled to far places, beyond the lands of England, and he never failed to amaze her with them. In her mind, the two had grown quite close to each other.

Until, one day, Speedwagon stopped these little meetings. Stopped coming out during the day. Stopped meeting up with his friends altogether. It was like he had shut the world away, now preferring the company of the shadows in his house rather than the people around him. This was unlike Speedwagon, the man loved being around his friends, so why would he suddenly want nothing to do with them?

At first, [Name] believed it had something to do with him recovering from the horrible fire at the Joestar Estate; he had told her about the situation involving Johnathan and the Asian Apothecary.

“Don’t worry, love. I’ll be back before you know it.” he had told her before he left. That was about a month ago. She knew he was back, as there would always be a lamp burning in one of the rooms at night.

She didn’t stop though. Each day, she still came to his house at the same time she always did and leave his mail by the flowerpot at the front door. Each time she came back, it was gone. Knowing that he was getting his mail, [Name] decided to attempt to communicate with him in a way.

She started to leave little handwritten notes for him. A way to let him know that she was still there for him, and that she was concerned for him, wishing him a fast recovery from whatever injuries he had obtained during what happened at the estate. She never got a reply. By now, anyone would have given up on it and walked away but [Name] didn’t. She didn’t want to give up on him.

One day, she decided to investigate for herself and discover why Speedwagon had shut himself away from the world.

***

The sun had fallen under the horizon, allowing the moon and stars to dominate the night sky when she made her move. Standing outside his house, she could see a soft glow from the top window -most likely his room. She made her way around the back of the house and stopped at the back door. Reaching into her coat pocket, she pulled out a small object and began to fiddle with the lock; the advantage of growing up in Ogre Street was you learned many things, such as pick-locking. Within moments, the door was open.

Quietly, [Name] stalked through the house, keeping as quiet as she could in hopes to not alert anyone who may be wandering the house. Arrest her for trespassing, she was not leaving until she knew what had become of her friend.

The stairs softly groaned under her weight as she ascended up them. As she grew closer to the top, faint mutters could be heard as if someone was having a quiet argument with themself. A ray of light spilled from one of the rooms, where the muttering was coming from. Slowly, [Name] approached, listening to the bickering.

“No....I don’t want to....” she heard. The words were broken from the muttering, letting her only capture snipets of the sentences. She peeked through the small gap of the door and caught a glimpse of someone pacing back and forth around the room, their head in their hands. Golden blonde hair could be seen. Speedwagon?

Suddenly, the muttering fell silent as did the pacing. [Name] tried to turn her eyes to peek further into the room when a shadow cut off her vision, followed by a force knocking her back. The door was ripped from its hinges, falling next to her as the figure pinned her down to the floor, a tight grasp on her throat.

Her [Eye colour] orbs looked up and she felt her heart stop, the figure above her froze once he took in her features. Bright, crimson eyes stared into [Eye colour] ones, disbelief swirling around inside of them as golden blonde hair casted shadows across his face a little. His skin paler than that of a corpse, unnatural for any living human, even those with natural pale skin. A large scar dragging across his left cheek.

“S-Speedwagon?” [Name] chocked out, his hand still latched onto her throat with disturbing strength. He only stared at her, a deer caught in the headlights, unsure of what to do. He leapt away from her, his body backing into the corner of the ceiling like a spider. Confusion -and fear- flooded [Name] as she watched this, no human could do that. What had happened to Speedwagon at that estate?

“G-Go away, [Name]!” he shouted, “Get outta here and leave me be!” From the darkness, she could see something in his mouth twinkle against the light that spilled into the hall way with no door to shield it. Standing up, [Name] didn’t break eye contact with Speedwagon, who seemed to cower from her. His body shaking lightly as his fingers dug into the brick of the wall, as if trying to hold himself back from something.

“Speedwagon, what happened to you?” she asked, her voice laced with concern as she took a step closer. He ripped his gaze away from her, turning his head away with shame -or guilt of some kind.

“I should’ve listened to JoJo.” he answered, hanging his head low. His expression twisted with sorrow. “i should’ve run when I had the chance. Now look at me.” One hand released its grip from the wall and his body didn’t falter, his balance remaining perfect as he looked at his pale hand. The cuts he gained from driving his hand into the wall knitting themselves shut before any blood could even seep out. A low growl slipped his fangs at the sight of it, black claws digging int his palm as he turned to [Name] again.

“I didn’t want ya to see me like this, [Name].” he admitted, “That’s why I locked meself away in here. That Stone Mask Dio used, it made him a demon. And now I share that same, damned fate.”

He was torn, [Name] could see it. Despite what she ha seen, [Name] didn’t see the monster he claimed he was. She saw only a man who has suffered something he shouldn’t have and had to face it alone. She took another step closer, her gaze keeping on him.

“Robert.” she spoke, catching his attention with the use of his first name, “You shouldn’t have to suffer through this alone. Push me away all you want, I’m not going anywhere knowing that you’re suffering.” He didn’t know what to do. he had expected her to turn and flee the second she saw him. He had expected to lash at her and drain her the same way Dio drained those people. Neither had happened and he was lost.

Without thinking, Speedwagon shot forward to her, wrapping his arms around her tightly -though not tight enough to cause her harm- and buried his head into her shoulder. Her arms wrapped around him, holding him close as she patted his golden locks to soothe him.

“It’s alright, Robert. We’ll find a way to help you.”

#speedwagon #robert e o speedwagon #speedwagon x reader #robert e o speedwagon x reader #speedwagon jojo #jojo bizarre adventure #jojo bizzare adventure x reader #jojo #jojo x reader #phantom blood #phantom blood x reader #jojo phantom blood #vampire speedwagon #female reader #reader insert

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darkwritingsnshit · 5 years ago

Text

Living the Dream

Chapter 2

Warnings: This is a dark fic, please don’t read if you are uncomfortable with noncon, kidnapping, and dark characters

If someone isn’t looking, it’s hard to see a dark car following them home. If someone isn’t looking, it’s easy to miss a single stranger in New York, especially in the dark. It really wasn’t safe to live in these old NYC apartments, the old locks were easy to pick, easier to break with a strong wrist. The single paned windows offered very little insulation or noise control, and again, their locks were easy to pick or break. Steve knew that their house would be an enormous step up for you, a leap even. The two of you wouldn’t live downtown NYC, it would be somewhere more beautiful, may even have that picket fence he knew you secretly dreamed about. He’d also make sure you were much more careful in the future. Be able to spot someone tailing you, check for hidden cameras you seemed to not notice, keep your kids safe from strangers. Yeah, things would be a lot different.

You woke up the next morning with half a dozen apology texts from your brother, and by noon he had called your office phone.

“Hey, I’m really sorry about last night.” He seemed sincere, you knew that he didn’t like to leave you hanging, as often as he did.

��It’s chill, I went over anyway. Tinkered around in the lab, watched a movie. Next time give me a heads up though, you’re ridiculously bad at responding or communicating in any way.” You scolded him over the phone.

“I know, I’m really sorry. It was super last minute, we got the call and I was out in 5 minutes. Will you come down tonight?” You gave out a lengthy sigh as your only response.

“I’m leaving for a while.” Your brother said in a monotone through the phone.

“Leaving? Where are you going?” You hated to see your brother go again, but you knew it was part of the job.

“You know I can’t tell you that.” You had learned not to ask questions a long, long time ago, when he first signed up for the Army. That was always his response “I can’t tell you.” It used to drive you up the wall, but now it was pretty routine. Still it left you miffed.

“I’m your goddamn sister, I’m not going to tell anyone, why do you still have to be like this?” You still knew that he wouldn’t give you a straight answer.

“Look, I’m going to be gone a few months and I have to leave tomorrow. Will you please come over so I can see you and say goodbye? I’m going to miss you.” It was hard to admit but you had come to rely on your brother’s presence in your life. You tried not to, you knew that he would have to leave like this for his job, that nobody was going to take care of you but you. It made you feel defeated, and mad at yourself. Gone were the days of cold indifference to your absent brother, you were close now, you cared now. This was one of the reasons why you tried so damn hard not to care about anyone.

“Fine. I’ll be over after work. But I swear to god if you flake on me again, I’ll kill you before you have a chance to leave, you hoe.” Your brother laughed, mumbled his agreement before you ended the call.

You wound up arriving late at the tower. Your coworker had been kind enough to jump your car, it clicked when you tried to turn the key, but from the sound of it, it was probably just a shorted fuse that ran down the battery. After a go with the jumper cables everything had turned out okay, and you promised yourself to take it to the shop in the morning, as you didn’t have the time to fix it up yourself.

Walking into the tower, it was again Mr. America himself that showed up on the first floor.

“Come here often?” He joked as the two of you made your way to the elevators.

“Are you the official greeting party now?” you wanted to see your brother, not some blonde super soldier.

“Hey, I think I’d make a great greeting party, who doesn’t love seeing Captain America when they walk in the door?” You just rolled your eyes at his comment, happy when the doors slid open to where you could find your brother.

“See you!” Steve called after you. You waved behind your shoulder, missing the scowl he had at your indifference. Everyone loved Captain America, he didn’t get why you seemed impervious to his charm, especially when he was nothing but polite. Plenty of women were falling at his feet for this superhero gig, what was with your sour attitude?

“What up asshole?” You banged the door open to your brother’s room and flopped down on his bed.

“I’m organizing, you messed up all my packing!! Move!” He waved his hands at you as you realized you had indeed flopped on his folded black shirts and a pile of socks.

“Whatever dude, where are you going, when will you be back? What’s for dinner?” You rolled off most of his clothes, but he made a point of yanking the shirt back that was still under your knee.

“You know I can’t tell you. But I’ll probably be back in a few months, like three or four. Six max.” He was focused on rolling all his gear and clothing into his tac bags.

“Six months?” Your brother hadn’t been gone for six months since before your parents had died. He would do a few weeks here and there, but you were grateful Stark kept him pretty close to home. “What am I supposed to do for six months?” you hated the thought of not seeing him for that long, not texting or calling him, just not knowing. He never checked in, he said it wasn’t safe. It was going to be six months of nothing.

“I don’t know, what did you do before? You have a life and stuff, just stay busy.” He was still more preoccupied with packing than realizing what he was saying.

“You know what I did before.” Your voice was icy.

Before, when your brother had been away, you had looked after your parents. You would take care of their lawn and garden; walk the dogs and every Sunday you would make dinner. It was usually three times a week you would read the papers to your father in the evenings, play cards with them until it was time for bed.

“Shit- I’m sorry I didn’t… I mean everyone here loves you! You need to hang out more, come watch movies, work on tech with Stark. They’re good people here, they care about you, you’re family to them.” His speaking was rushed, he was trying to cover his misstep.

“They’re your family. They’re more like coworkers to me.” You flopped back on the bed again, studying the ceiling.

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself. If you do that, you’re just going to wallow. You know that there’s enough tech here to keep you busy for years, not just six months. Come down here when you’re bored. Also, I think Steve may have a crush, he’s been asking about you a lot.”

You rolled your eyes at your brother but knew that he was right about the wallowing. Depression came quick if you let it, it was always best to head it off.

“Fine, I’ll come by more often to stay busy. Tell that golden retriever to stop sniffing around where he isn’t wanted though.” Your brother laughed out loud at that one, more used to your snarky attitude and flippant jokes than anyone else.

“You pick dinner, we can do anything. Small possibility I snatched the company card this morning…” He held a small piece of plastic between his fingers with a smile. You threw a pillow at his head.

“You’re the worst person ever.” You said.

“Hey, whatever. I figure Stark should buy me dinner before fucking me with this six-month assignment he’s got me on, right?”

Dinner came in the form of Chinese take out containers, as reruns of The Office played behind you and your brother’s conversation.

“Did I miss anything exciting? More importantly did you get anything good with my credit card?” Tony swiped the plastic card your brother had left on the table next to the takeout.

“Yeah, I bought a few Lamborghinis, a couple private islands, you know, nothing too fancy. Thought we could take a vacation once I get back.” Your brother replied around his eggroll.

“Well, as long as they’re my colors, it shouldn’t be a problem.” Tony replied, snatching a wanton and sitting down in a lounge chair. “Let me tell you, it’s gonna be pretty weird here without my house full of the team. I’m actually going to miss your horrible attitude and constant backtalk while you’re gone.”

“Wait, you mean it’s not just you leaving?” You turned to your brother.

“Nope, almost everyone is outta here tomorrow. Nat, Sam and Wanda are coming along. Bucky is somewhere in the steppes of Russia doing recon, and Bruce is doing what exactly? Helping out with Ebola, or is it clean water? Something about doctors, right Tony?” Your brother mused.

“Bruce headed to Yemen, he’s implementing our new filtration system for water, while providing free medical care to refugees.” Tony corrected.

“So, who’s left?” You asked.

“Well let’s see, it’ll be our golden boy Rodgers, he’s helping me with a huge PR nightmare, Pepper is always around, Thor likes to stop in occasionally, and the kid swings by when he’s not helping old ladies cross the street or playing video games after school. You know what?” Tony remarked, “Why don’t you stay here until everyone is back? Pepper would love it if there was a more talkative lady around, and no offence, but the guys here really trash the place. You could also pop into the lab whenever you want, get some late-night tinkering in when you can’t sleep. That’d be a lot of fun.” Tony looked like a five-year-old with a new bright idea. You laughed, sitting back against the couch.

“Believe it or not, I actually like the peace and quiet, that’s why I live alone. Besides, I am never, ever staying in his room. I saw what it looked like when he lived at home, I’ve found some weird shit he’s left in the corners.” You pushed on your brother’s shoulder.

“Hey! I never asked you to help me clean my room, and I was like, fourteen. Stay out of my room, Jesus.” You just laughed some more.

“See, exactly what I’m talking about. I really appreciate the offer though.”

“Okay, I won’t push it. On the condition that you come by at least once a week. No scratch that, two or three times. I’m going to keep calling you down to the lab, I don’t have Banner to balance me out.”

“You’re going to have to start paying me Tony.” You replied.

“No problem, I’ll have Pepper put you on payroll. Actually, you’ve got a ton of back hours logged, I’ll get that set up.” Tony stood and was already on his tablet.

“No! Stop, Tony it was a joke, of course I’ll come by. I’m usually free after five, just give me a call or text and I’ll come over.” Tony mumbled something that sounded like ‘yeah, yeah’ and continued out of the room.

“I hate to leave but it’s getting late.” You didn’t want to leave. You really didn’t want to leave your brother, not knowing if or when you would see him again. “Don’t fucking die, you hear me? Come home.” You looked him directly in the eye, you needed him to know that you were serious. He wrapped you in a hug and squeezed tight. You didn’t want him to let go.

“Hey. Hey, look at me,” he held your shoulders, “I’m going to be great. I promise. It’s not dangerous, and if it is, you know I can take care of myself. With my backup, the only person you should be worried about is the guy in my crosshairs. Okay? I promise that I’m coming home to you.” You nodded and he squeezed you tight again. “Now go home and get a good night’s sleep. I’ll be home before you miss me.”

Regretfully, you parted ways with your brother, and headed towards the elevators. Down, down, down until it stopped on the 5th floor with a ding. It was golden boy Rodgers himself, who greeted you with a smile.

“Going down?” He asked.

“Yeah, it’s late, I’m heading home.” You were sad now you missed your pain in the ass of a brother already.

“Let me walk you to your car.” Steve offered, and you were too tired to turn him down.

#dark!steve rogers #dark!captain america #my writing #steve rodgers x reader #captain america x reader #this is dark

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spookyspaghettisundae · 4 years ago

Text

Real Monsters

Two empty bottles of cheap shoddy beer stood on the bar counter, right next to a cup with a finger’s width of whiskey resting in it. Emily blew a strand of fire-red hair out of her face and, for no apparent reason, glared at the bartender as he collected and removed the empty glass containers from in front of her.

Over the course of the hour she had spent there, she slumped more and more over the bar counter where she sat. Every now and then, she glanced at the flat screen TV hanging over the bar, watching the news flashing across the screen with mild disinterest. The lights of cars on the city’s street outside the bar’s windows drearily passed by. The more she drank that night away, the more those lights outside turned into hazy blurs, contrasted by the soft illumination in this quaint pub.

Emily’s willowy frame and symmetrical features would lead to anybody describing her as an attractive woman in her late twenties—if you could stomach the strong stench of cigarette smoke clinging to her like a dark miasma—so it was nothing unusual for her to have some guy sidle up next to her with a warm and friendly smile. He even did a decent job at holding back from cringing, once he inhaled some of the air in Emily’s vicinity.

“Hey, I was just—”

“Fuck off,” she told him without looking up from the glass of whiskey she was nursing, swirling the liquid inside her glass in one hand. She trained her eyes on the TV screen even though the lines and text on it were getting blurry for her.

The young man’s face turned sour in an instant and he uttered a string of profanities at Emily while leaving her to herself, causing the bar stool next to him to scrape over the floor with a loud noise and prompt some other patrons to turn their heads.

The regular murmurs and conversations and clinking of glasses continued without incident though, as this sort of thing was a common scene in a bar like this.

Emily sighed when she saw a familiar segment rearing to come up on the TV. While some advertisements fired up with obnoxious lettering and white-washed imagery on the screen, she waved the bartender over.

“Can we change the channel? Isn’t there, like, a fucking game on, or something?” she asked him, clearing her throat in between the sentence fragments, taking her voice from raspy to gravelly. She pointed her index finger past the glass of whiskey she was holding.

The bartender, seemingly nice enough all evening, slung a small towel over his shoulder and leaned in over the counter to her. He seemed to register her request with a bit of a delay, then forced himself to smile. He nodded, then pointed to someone at the opposite end of the counter.

“I’ll get right on it after taking care of the gentleman over there,” he said.

She watched him saunter over yonder, taking his sweet time. Stifling a groan with a sigh, Emily muttered to herself, “Happy fuckin’ birthday to me, I guess.”

Right about when the bartender returned to her end of the counter, the ads ended and the segment started. Some shaky, grainy pictures flashed across the screen, commented on by a lady with one of those perms that looked like it was made of plastic. The graphics heralded an exposé about human trafficking discovered on the Canadian border between Vancouver and Seattle.

With a rosy color flushing her pale cheeks, Emily emptied the glass and covered half her face with a hand as if to bury it there, though all she wanted to do was hide.

The bartender leaned down and grabbed something from behind the counter, then froze mid motion of aiming the remote control at the TV set. He blinked as he saw a red-haired reporter with a mean green-eyed glare on the screen—one who happened to look a lot like Emily. Or rather—exactly like her, if you could tell the change in outfits apart. His head went on swivel between the Emily at the bar and the Emily on screen until he lowered the remote and casually leaned against the counter.

“Holy shit, is that you? You some kinda reporter, huh?”

“Fuck,” Emily hissed under her breath, managing to eke out a smile that refused to reach her eyes. She hunched even deeper over the counter towards the bartender and then hushed him with the words, “Yep, that’s me, Sherlock. Let’s not make a big deal out of it, ‘kay? I’m trying to unwind tonight.”

The bartender scanned her face with what was growing interest, but he turned to look back up at the screen again, giving her a curt nod in response.

“Gotcha,” he whispered. Watching the footage fly through, inter-cut with pieces of interviews and Emily being followed by a shaky camera switched into night mode, the bartender still couldn’t help but emit a short little whistle between his teeth.

“Damn, I’m not gonna turn the audio up, but that looks like some rough stuff,” he said.

His features softened as he could spot Emily’s mien darkening. He slid to lean over the counter and keep his voice down as he asked, “You okay? No offense, but you’ve been lookin’ down in the dumps all evenin’.”

“No offense, but whenever anybody starts anything with 'no offense’, it’s gonna offend, buddy,” she said, glaring at him.

“Jeeze, okay, I get it. You’re not here to talk. But I feel like I’d be an asshole for not asking,” he said, absentmindedly scratching the fashionable stubble on his chin.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Brian.”

Emily smirked and said, “Okay, Brian? You keep the drinks coming, we both mind our own business, and I’ll make like a tree soon enough.”

Something sparkled in Brian’s eyes and he shook his head with a strange slowness. Emily struggled to read what it meant or where it was coming from. A couple of drinks earlier and she would have had him figured out easily, but the meds mixing with the booze were doing her signature skills no favor. Her gut instinct swung wildly between him either feeling pity or genuine care for a fellow human being.

“I do have some responsibility here. I wouldn’t let you walk outta here knowing you had to drive after all the drinks you’ve been pounding down on, and I sure as hell am not gonna just pretend you can see that kinda—”

He cast a sidelong glance up at the TV screen, then continued, “That kinda shit doesn’t just bounce off o’ ya. Just seeing something like that on the news is enough to upset me. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to be there, and talk to the monsters who do shit like that. Or, y'know, the victims of those monsters.”

The sparkle in his eyes turned wet, glistening with empathy. Brian was good, Emily thought.

“C'mon, humor me. I bet it’ll be a load off o’ your shoulders to talk about it. I hear plenty o’ sob stories and have to pretend that they’re oh-so-tragic, but even all that petty bullshit eventually gets to me.”

Emily said nothing. Continued studying his face.

“Costs you sleep, leads to drinking to sleep more, which leads to—eh, you know where I’m going with this.”

He shrugged and bit his lip, awaiting a response from her after all his rambling. The other people in the bar never turned silent, but the silence that welled up between Emily and Brian became so thick that you could have cut it with a knife.

“Okay,” she said. She put the glass down and repeated herself with another smirk, this one far less convincing and with far less confidence than any other expression she had brandished that night. “Okay. Brian? You might wanna buckle up, because this is a wild ride. Fuck, I don’t even know where to start. Much easier to write these things than to present them.”

She shot a glance up at the TV, conveniently presenting one of the monsters Brian had unwittingly mentioned.

“See that schmuck right there? Married, three children, successful business owner, respected in his community, loves walkin’ his dog in the park, probably tips generously, and also responsible for making twelve Vietnamese women live in a filthy fucking dungeon of a basement for ten years—forced into sex work, allowed out only to assemble and package counterfeit watches. Real piece o’ shit, sub-human, scum-sucking trash with a heart so fucking rotten that it might as well be a black hole. And he wasn’t even the mastermind or anything, he was basically middle management in this outfit of human-shaped turds.”

Emily kept getting more worked up as she swore up a storm and recounted the discoveries from her research. Brian visibly swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat and she could tell he was only moments away from breaking out into a cold sweat just from hearing the fury in her account.

“Her name was Tran. These dirt-bags trafficked her across the ocean to America, together with other girls, in containers that must have reeked to the high heavens of human shit and piss, subsisting on nothing but scraps of rotten fucking food. She was separated from her 5-year-old kid when they took her after promising her a better life for her family, and then these rat bastards on our side of the drink tried to ferry her over the border to Vancouver with some others by sticking her in a fucking refrigerator truck where she froze to death behind some pallets stacked with meat. With fucking meat,” she said with some spittle frothing on her lip. “Because that’s all she was to these monsters.”

Emily crammed a fist into her jacket pocket and produced a crumpled up pack of cheap cigarettes from it. She dumped it on the counter in front of her, together with a smartphone with a display so cracked that it would be close to impossible to read anything on it, and a plastic lighter clattering out onto the counter next to it.

“I don’t even know if they deserve to be called monsters. Because a monster at least acts upon instinct, like a fucking animal. Eat, fuck, shit, sleep, rinse repeat. But these motherfuckers, I swear,” she dug a cigarette out of the pack and swiftly lit it up.

Brian’s face had long fallen into a twisted visage of disgust and despair, paralyzed and incapable of escaping her cutting monologue, and his speechlessness extended into his inability to tell Emily she wasn’t allowed to smoke inside the pub. He feebly pointed at the cigarette she now took a long drag from and then rubbed his face instead.

With the force of frustration, she blew out some smoke before continuing her furious rant. She pointed at the TV screen with the burning cigarette clamped between her fingers. Some heads at the other end of the dive now turned to look at her again, the murmurs likely questioning what was going on there.

“They go home, they go shopping in a grocery store like you and me, they go to barbecue parties, they tuck their kids in at night, and they probably play poker or some shit. All the while they are quietly committing passionless murders; just cold calculated without any remorse. Enriching themselves with the suffering of the human beings they treat like fucking meat.”

More smoke billowed out of her nostrils like a dragon breathing fire when she picked up again, not missing a beat, “By the time Tran was twenty-seven and they recovered her body from the back of that truck, the autopsy showed that all the slave labor and all sex work had given her permanent spine damage. So, she was in constant crippling pain for the final fuckin’ years of her life before she died an undignified death without a single fucking soul to mourn her passing. And don’t you fucking give me that bunch of rotten, disingenuous politicians farcically conveying their condolences while scampering around to cover up for anybody in the police or border control who were in on this whole operation before we popped the lid on the entire stinking cess pool. Allegedly,” she said, letting the final word ooze out with bitter contempt.

Emily stopped herself, arched her head back and released an almost satisfied groan. It did feel good, at least somewhat. Sweet, sweet release.

She looked at Brian the bartender, now staring at her with eyes as wide as saucers, rendered speechless by her outburst of pent-up rage and verbal diarrhea that came from a festering disease that was what Emily’s view of humanity had become.

Her heart raced, but the frayed ends of her nerves had stopped screaming. For now.

After taking a long drag from her cigarette and savoring the next cloud of smoke she exhaled, she dug around in her pocket to get out some cash, spilling it out onto the counter in form of crinkled dollar bills and coins and leaving a pathetic tip because that was all she had on her.

Her voice dropped in volume, “Thanks, Bri. Good talk.”

She patted the money she was leaving on the counter and stood up straight. Or as straight as she could manage, because she drunkenly swayed a bit—which she elegantly masked with her years of drinking experience by slinging her jacket on.

One of the other patrons whose stare lingered on her for too long drew another deadly glare from Emily.

“The fuck are you lookin’ at?” her words muffled as she kept the cigarette clamped in between her lips. His eyes widened and he lowered himself over his drink while the other people at his table went silent with him.

Brian stammered out something, but Emily was too wasted already to really make out the precise words, and too far gone for that night to give a damn. He was probably going to check in on her and see if she was alright, yet again. Bless his soul.

She pushed open the front door. The jingle of a bell overhead caused her to flinch when she staggered out into the drizzle of rain outside the bar and she let the door slam shut behind her. Emily popped the collar of her jacket and wandered off into the city’s night.

After taking a final angry drag from her cigarette, she tossed the butt into a gutter and buried her hands in her jacket pockets while she stumbled on her way home, in the rough direction of her dingy downtown apartment.

She came upon a homeless guy sitting on the sidewalk with a cardboard sign right next to him, but the letters written on it blurred into something incomprehensible to Emily’s drunken stare. He was wrapped up in layers of sweaters and jackets and had a hood up over his head, with some newspapers spread out on top to shield him from the rain. But the sheets of paper were turning dark quickly, soaking up the raindrops as they grew in size and frequency.

With the rustling of the newspapers, the homeless man looked up at her, but the darkness concealed most of his features beyond a gray beard and skin that looked like a roadmap of sunburnt wrinkles.

“You should get outta the rain, buddy, s'gonna be a downpour tonight,” she told him.

He just stared at her. Shadows cloaked his eyes and a pit formed in Emily’s stomach.

“I ain’t got any change. Just pissed it all away just now. Sorry, man.”

She tried to lock eyes with him, but found no eyes underneath that veil of darkness over his own. The lack of a reaction began to creep her out. She gave him a bowing nod and walked on with a clipped, “Night.”

A few steps further down the sidewalk, she figured she might regret it, but considered inviting him home. The poor bastard might freeze to death on a late autumn night like this.

“When the world is a prison, there are those who are the prisoners cursed with unknowing, and the jailers who hold the keys to their unseen cells. Which are you?”

Those words rolled out with a fluid clarity and a gravity to rival the weight of the world. There was something about them—a sense of finality—that lent them a sinister air. They came from behind Emily—from that homeless man.

She turned slowly. Her heart raced, this time not with anger, but a growing sense of dread. She feared to see what this homeless man had turned into. His voice was as voluminous as that of a giant, as imposing as a king.

But there was nobody there. Emily looked around in disbelief. There was nobody else in this narrow street. The drizzle intensified until it turned into full-blown rain.

A cold shudder ran down her spine and Emily shivered. She suddenly remembered the pictures of Tran from the autopsy report, pale and lifeless, with eyes closed. An innocence destroyed by the monsters of this world. A horrible truth that Emily had helped unearth.

Emily went home and locked all three locks of her apartment door, shooing her three cats off her bed and crashing onto the covers without undressing.

The dark void of a dreamless sleep enveloped her within seconds and the next day, nothing would be the same, ever again.

This was the final night before her awakening.

—Submitted by Wratts

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