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roronoa-swords · 3 years

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Cop and Thief

Smoker x Portgas D. Ace

Fandom: One Piece

Genre: Smut with a lil angst

Timeline: Modern AU!

Pairing: Smoker x Ace

Request: For Op-Law from wattpad. You can also find this story there under the name Da3Stuges. I share an account with two other amazing authors💚

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"This is the second time Portgas. When are you going to learn that doing arson is illegal?" A white haired male snarled with an irritated look on his face.

"C'mon Smokey, when are you gonna lighten up a bit? It's the 21st century, stop being so...old." The man named 'Portgas' said as he laid his head on the table.

Smoker let out a deep sigh before he uncuffed the man. "Just-...." The older man breathed. "Just get outta my sight Portgas. If I see you in here again, you're gonna regret it."

"Oh I'm soooo scared!" He mocks. "See you later old man!" The ravenette said as he ran out of the police station. Smoker's assistant, Tashigi only stood in pure, agitated disbelief.

"Why do you keep letting him go Sergeant Smoker? He's only gonna cause more trouble, not only for you, but for the entire GPD! We have to go get him!" The navy haired woman with red glasses perched on top of her head complained.

Smoker sighed. He was asked -and told- the same thing every single time. Smoker waved her off.

"Stand down Tashigi. Portgas acts like any other old reckless youngster, there is no need to get rash." Sergeant Smoker seriously needed a break. He already gained a headache trying to apprehend Portgas. He didn't need this extra addition. But, it seems Tashigi didn't get the memo.

"But sir! Portgas D. Ace is the eldest of the infamous ASL brothers! Those three terrorize any store they find! And just for food?!?! He's also allies with Whitebeard and Roger! He needs to be apprehended immediately before his entire posse raid this whole town!" The woman screeched as she tried to get her point across.

"I said stand down cadet!" He barked. "I am aware of Portgas' affiliations, I am aware of his younger brothers, and I am very much aware of the consequences of him continuing to run free." It's like the people in this damned department didn't understand.

"Please stop rambling nonsense around my head and move on from this subject. To be quite frank, I'm done with Portgas and his case. So if you want to capture him so bad, why don't you go and do it?" Smoker sneered as he has gotten fed up with Tashigi and her screeching.

"But Sergeant Smoker-.." She tried to reason but never got to finish her sentence. Smoker upped and left the room.

"Damned people. I don't know how many times they want me to repeat the same words over and over again." He grumbled as he stomped his way to his office.

"That damn brat is growing on me. Without him, these calls won't be challenging at all."

He sighed, entering his office. Sitting down on the slightly worn out chair, he gazed upon his achievements that were mounted on the wall.

'Soon, I won't have a job if I keep this up.' He thought with a sigh. This whole situation was troublesome.

Suddenly, a knock was heard.

"Enter." The tired male spoke. He waited to see who would be on the other side of his door. Surprisingly, it was Monkey D. Garp, the retired chief of police. Smoker stood up, as a sign of respect.

"G-Garp-San," He hesitated. "To what do I owe this visit? More so, why have you came to visit me?" Smoker was puzzled. Why was the greatest chief of police that ever resided in this town, here in his office?

Garp stood as strong as ever. Dressed down in his white button up and some white dress pants.

"Well, Sergeant," Garp began. " a little birdy...more-so...your assistant Tashigi, seemed to be in distress. I asked her, and she told me that you keep letting a certain freckled faced fellow go." Smoker kept his composure, but inwardly groaned. That woman could never keep her mouth shut.

"Mind explaining why you are releasing my grandson only to capture him again later on?" Garp questioned as he looked at Smoker with curious amusement.

Smoker stayed silent. It wasn't that he didn't know how to answer the question, it was more of him in denial.

"To be honest with you Chief...I'm not sure why I do that." He said scratching the back of his neck. A sign that Garp picked up from past visits, indicating he was nervous.

"Portgas brings...life to the chases we do-" Smoker paused. "him and his brothers." He continues. "So taking them in would diminish all the fun." Garp stared at him for a minute before answering.

"But you do know that even if they do rob stores for food, they have very strong and dangerous allies." He stated. "Ace with Whitebeard and Roger, Sabo with Dragon, and Luffy with Shanks. Not to mention they have their own crews. For example, Luffy and his Straw hat brats." Garp concluded as fixed Smoker with a stare.

"Though I am assuming- and hoping that this isn't the case-" Garp straightens to his full height. "Could it be that you are starting to harbor feelings for the brat?" Garp asked.

The male in question thought about the elders statement. 'Do I like Portgas? No....no I can't do that. There's no way. Unless...?' Smoker thought as he racked through his brain for answers.

Garp sighed. "Well, I've got to go. Even though they are criminals, they're still my grandkids. However, they are gonna get a rude awakening when I return back home from the holidays." He said with a menacing smile as he cracked his knuckles. He looked at Smoker then smirked at him before exited out of his office.

'That was weird.' The white haired male said as he lit up a cigar. He sat down and took a puff. He sighed out a breath as he wondered.

'What am I going to do?'

(Ace's POV)

"LUFFY! ACE! LET'S GO!" Sabo shouted. We just raided one of our favorite restaurants. We dodged a couple of frying pans, cutting boards, and a few stray eating utensils along the way. We finally arrive to our usual little hiding spot. We're here just until things die down, then we normally make our way home. Fuck I'm tired. I focus on catching my breath as Luffy starts laughing.

"Shishishi~ I got all the meat!" My idiot of a little brother exclaims.

"Lies! I got some meat too- and I aint sharing so don't give me that face." I said as my straw hat wearing brother pouts.

"You idiots argue for the most simplest things," Sabo rolled his eyes. "it's unbelievable sometimes." He sighed as he looked down in embarrassment.

"WHO YOU CALLING AN IDIOT, BARBIE DOLL?!?" I snap.

"EH!? YOU WANNA FIGHT?!" Sabo shouts back. Oh ho hooo I am not backing down bitch.

"BRING IT ON YOU SMURF!"

Sabo and I were head to head and I could see the electricity between us. "Shishishi~ usually it's me and Ace or Ace and Smokey." Luffy said as he munched on a bag of chips.

"Speaking of Smokey, he always catches you and then lets you go 5 hours later. Wanna explain?" Sabo said as he looked at me with a smirk on his face. I felt my cheeks heat up as I look the other way.

"There's nothing to explain. He catches me, we talk, then he lets me go. Nothing else." I mumbled, hoping Sabo wouldn't press into the situation more.

"Judging by your face I think you have some attraction for him." Apparently, he didn't get the hint or he got it and just didn't care.

"Ugh just drop it Sabo. Even if I DID like him there is absolutely NO POSSIBLE WAY Oyaji or that old bastard would approve." I sulk.

Sabo walks up to me and grabs my shoulders. "Wouldn't approve of what? You being gay?"

"Hmm? Oh, No, I told them my preference before and they didn't have a problem. I think they wouldn't approve because of who I chose to like. Remember," I sigh. "He's a cop. I'm a thief. Not to mention my stupid old man. It isn't gonna work."

I turn away from him as my shoulders droop. 'Besides..I think he likes that little assistant of his...despite how annoying she is.' I thought as a I succumb to my inner thoughts.

"Eh, Ace, I know you're worried about their opinion, but, if you really like him, you gotta face your fears and tell him. Rejection is always better than regret." Luffy said with a serious expression.

Sabo and I looked at him shocked. He tilts his head in confusion. 'Luffy....has a brain?' I stare at him.

"What? Is there something on my face?" He picks his nose.

'Well nevermind he's back to being an idiot.' I sweatdrop.

"Well, we should get going. Thatch needs to cook the food." Sabo said and as soon as he did, Luffy and I race back to the house.

"Hey! Wait for me! Guys!" I hear Sabo shout.

~timeskip brought to you by Marco chasing Ace around in a pineapple tank top~

"Why...did you guys..run of like that?" Sabo panted as he finally caught up with us.

"You've gotten slow Sabo..need to fix that." I say as I smirk mischievously at him. He pales at my sentence and begins to mumble something before Luffy's voice is heard, shouting so the whole block hears him. "WE'RE HOME!"

He then turns towards us, "Let's go, I want FOOODD!" and dashes inside.

Sabo and I stare at him for a second before his words fully register in my mind. "DON'T EAT ALL THE MEAT LUFFY!" I shout. I dash inside, leaving Sabo in the dust.

"Thatch! Marco! Oyaji! How are you guys?" I ask as we all sit at the table. Well Oyaji stood, but that doesn't make much of a difference.

"We're fine." Thatch hummed, "-but mind telling why you got captured today?" he questions as he glances behind him, amused.

"Oh, um...how'd you know about that?" I laugh nervously with an uneasy feeling in my chest.

"Gurararara~ We know everything around here, brat. Did you forget already?" Oyaji says, with his signature laugh.

I facepalm because of my stupidity. 'Of course Oyaji would know the smoking Sargeant.'

"Shishishi~ Ace got captured by Smokey! But their fight was..weird." Luffy's shine like literal stars as Thatch sets a plate full of meat in front of him. "Weird like how yoi?" Marco spoke, leaning on the table with a lazy smirk.

"They were saying weird stuff to each other. Like when Ace said that if Smokey has this much energy fighting, how much energy would he have in-" Luffy didn't get to finish before I shoved a piece of meat in his mouth. "OKAYY," I chuckle nervously, "we don't need to hear anymore a that, right Sabo?" I force a smile, praying that Sabo would be on my side.

Sabo looks at me before smirking. 'Oh no'

"I don't know, Ace...you were kinda..touchy with him today." He teased. "Any reason why?" I look at him with the most hateful gaze ever, but he just brushes it off. 'Damnit Sabo! You're gonna make Oyaji kill him you overgrown barbie doll!'

Everyone at the table looked at me with a face of interest. Even Izo, Vista and Haruta.

'When the hell did they get here?'

The only one who didn't had a readable expression was Oyaji. 'Fuck...he's gonna kill me'

"Were you flirting- with Sergeant Smoker, Ace?" Izo questioned me with a large smirk on his rose colored lips. Before I even had the chance to answer, the overgrown, knock-off barbie doll on the right of me spoke up.

"Flirting? It was like watching sex happen in front of my eyes-" He didn't get to finish as I slammed my fist on top of his head.

"Damnit Sabo! Are you trying to get me killed?!" I yelled as I stood up from my seat, meat on my plate forgotten.

"I mean you needed a push and I'm there to help." He winced as he rubbed the top of his head. Before I said anything, I was cut of again.

'Why the fuck do I keep getting interrupted!? I'm running out of patience.'

"Ace.." Oyaji started as he looked at me with a glare, some haki leaking through. "Are you interested in this...Sergeant?" He finished. The whole table went down in silence and Sabo looks away from me, I don't have to look at him to know he feels full of guilt.

"No Oyaji.....what gave you that idea?" I say, not looking at Oyaji in the eye.

"Ace..you know that relationship will not work. He's a Sergeant, a cop," He emphasizes. "...and you. You're a thief." He says firmly, staring into my being.

"Your relationship is gonna end up in two ways. One, he continues to set you free after every chase and loses his rank- or worse, his job-"

'I don't want to be the reason he loses his job.' I clench my fist.

"Or two, you get caught and thrown in jail." Oyaji speaks. I know what he's saying. I know what he's trying to get into my head.

"Either he's gone or your life is over."

'I know the risks....I know I don't have a chance. But why does it hurt so much hearing it from you, Oyaji?'

I thought as I bit my bottom lip.

"Honestly," He grunts. "I don't care who you date. Your father, however, is the problem." I tch. That stupid old man.

"You know he has issues trusting the police. Ever since the incident with your mother." He continued. "Of course she's alive and well, but he almost lost her, Ace. He almost lost you.

I put my head down in shame.

'I knew it. They wouldn't approve. They wouldn't accept it. Damn it.'

"I know that Oyaji..that's why I said I don't like him you know." I bark a laugh. It sounded so mechanic that Luffy had stopped eating.

"...Sabo and Luffy were just messing with me." I say flashing a pained smile, a vain attempt to seem unfazed.

"Ace.." Thatch calls. I don't answer.

"Well, that settles that. I'm going to be in my room. I'm not hungry." I slide the plate over in between Sabo and Luffy, signaling that they can have my share.

I walk out of the dining room and head to my room. 'Nothing is ever fair anymore.'

I open the door to my room and slam it closed, locking it behind me. I huff. For fuck's sake.

'I need to cool down...I don't need another lecture from Marco about burning holes into my bedroom walls again.'

Shuffling around in my room, trying to calm down- though I'm unsuccessful-, something clicks.

What if....?

I rush and throw on a shirt. I don't bother to button it up cause why not. Opening my window and climbing out, I breathe in slight anticipation.

'Maybe he's on duty tonight...'

(Sabo's POV)

I watch Ace leave the dining room with a hurt look in his eyes. 'I over did it.' I can't help but think. Pops sighs before he took a sip of his sake.

"I know the brat likes that Sergeant and frankly, I would like to see them together, but Roger wouldn't allow it."

Ah, speaking of the devil. Said man enters the house with Aunt Rouge and Uncle Rayleigh following behind him.

'Just how many people live here?' I sweatdropped.

"Ahaaa Newgate! Pass over the sake you old geezer!" Roger exclaimed, dismissing the tense atmosphere in the room. 'He either doesn't notice it, or he notices and doesn't care. Probably the latter.'

"Gurararara~ Go get your own, this one's mine." Pops said as he hogged up the rest of the sake on the table.

"Aww cmon, you drinked the rest of the booze ya old bastard." Roger complained as he took a seat next to Pops.

"For an old man he really asks like a kid yoi." Marco mumbles. "Tell me about it, and I'm married to him." Aunt Rouge added as she put two fingers on the bridge of her nose.

"Oiii!" Roger exclaimed with a pout. 'He really is a man baby'

"Roger.. Rouge.. there is something we need to...discuss." Pops says as his smile drops.

Sensing the tension in the room, Roger stopped smiling and gave a blank stare. "About what Newgate?" He questioned. "It's about Ace." Pops said.

As if the room dropped below freezing point, Roger gave Pops a ice cold stare as his haki started to leak out.

"What happened to my son?" He asked as he stood up. Marco and Thatch stood next to Pops just in case something happens.

'Now I see why Ace doesn't tell you things, Roger. You're overprotective.' I thought as I made my way over to Luffy.

"Nothing happened to him Roger..." Oyaji paused. "He's just.....experiencing feelings for someone, is all." Pops concluded.

Roger visibly relaxed and smiled "Then what's the problem? You got me all tense for nothing!" He exclaimed as he laugh, but Pops only chuckled. "Ah but wait, he's interested in an officer. Down at the GPD, there's a smokey Sergeant that's caught Ace's attention." Pops said

Roger's smile disappeared and was replaced with an angry scowl almost immediately.

"Absolutely not. There's NO WAY I'm letting my only son date an officer. After what they did to us?! No way." He said as he threw his hands up. Roger only looked away in anger and slight disbelief.

"If I may ask...what happened exactly yoi?" Marco questioned. Though, this is the first time I've seen Marco flinch when someone answered his questions.

'Now I reallyyyy understand why Ace don't tell him anything.'

"When Rouge was pregnant with Ace, I was on the run from the government. I was caught and my execution was planned, but they didn't go through with it." He started. "Because it was unsafe, Rouge was forced to hold Ace for 20 months. Thus causing his birth to be heavily delayed. When it was time for Rouge to give birth, I broke out of the prison they kept me in."

As Roger talked, I could feel the raw hatred, and bits of Haki begin to pour out into the room. ~To be continued~

#anime #portgas d ace #gol d. roger #smoker #modern au #straw hat luffy

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b0osblog · 4 years

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Mafia Blood- Chapter 1

ayyyyyyy! It’s ya boi!.... *coughs* so how you been?.... yeah sorry for not posting in a while.... I kinda get sidetracked... BUT! I now have a story. I’m about 3-4 chapters in writing it (cause i suck at writing with a really short time period so I want to be ahead). Its on the BBS! But I hope you enjoy it. It’s a Mafia-Monster A/U (Idea credit to @hiyometoo). I would like to put a disclaimer as well. There will be some serious themes such as suicide, abuse blood, death. If you are uncomfortable with this, this story isn’t for you. Adding to that. this is a story. I do not view these people or the relationships between them to necessarily be who they are in real life. But I hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless. I don’t really have art for it but I’ll be working on it! If you want to do art or get inspired by it, by all means draw it if you wish! @ me if you post it so I can see it! I love seeing people draw and different art styles! This story isn’t the best but I hope you guys enjoy anyway. This isn’t a Shipping book either, even if some of the writing seems to suggest so. It’s more so hinting at future friendships as such. One more thing before I let you guys get the story. I’ll be posting the story chapters once a month (on like the last Sunday AEST). Anyway I’ll let you guys read it and judge for yourself! I hope you guys are having a good day/night and I’ll see you soon!

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Chapter 1

Every river leads to an ocean. Stars do burn out. So yes, everything ends. But do you want to know a secret? Everything- and I mean everything, begins again.

-Eric Van Vuren

It was a quiet night for the casino. There were still a lot of people but not as much as there usually was.

“You sure everything is in place?” Ryan’s concerned voice was quiet as he hid behind the pillar.

“Yes Ohm. All you have to do is get people to use their cards over their cash. Everything will be fine.” Wildcat spoke slowly and quietly, as if he were distant from the mic while making sure Ohm heard everything.

“OK… Here goes nothing…” Ohm airily said.

“Good luck man. We’re rooting for you.” That’s all Ohm heard before the line went dead.

"OK… no pressure at all guys. No pressure at all.”

He felt that something was up. It almost seemed to quiet of a night, especially with what he had to pull off. He walked out from behind the pillar, taking a deep breath and putting on his best-selling smile. Eyes were felt on the back of his head but he ignored it. Looking would only make him seem suspicious. Ohm did however peek out the corner of his eye. He saw a demon. He seemed to be missing an eye but Ohm didn’t look for long enough to be sure though.

He continued his trek towards the bar, shaking his head as he neared, trying to clear his mind.

“Hey Del! Sorry I took so long! Things got a little out of hand on the phone. Hope things didn’t get too busy while I was gone!” Ohm’s voice was bright, but had an edge to it.

Delirious gave him an understanding nod, his blue eyes glowing behind the hockey mask.

“No problem man. Just make sure you focus on whatever it is that’s happening with your fam.”

“Thanks. I’ll… be sure to do that.” He gave a grim smile a jolt uncertainty gripping him.

He shook his head again and slipped behind the bar and began to serve people, charging them on card.

It was made a lot easier considering Delirious was working the opposite end of the bar. It raised more red flags in his head but he continued anyway.

‘He was family. They wouldn’t betray him… would they?’

Delirious had been occupied talking to an owl like man. One that Ohm recognised to be Vanoss.

‘What was he doing here?’

A demon of sorts sat in front of him downing the shot of vodka he had just ordered His eyes- well eye- narrowed on him slightly.

“Hey floppy ears! That owl shit over there that you keep looking to, why does he get to pay with cash? I gotta pay with card.” The demon asked curiously, peering at him suspiciously.

One eye had a scar in the shape of a jagged edge 'x’. He wore a dark suit with the dress shirt collar flipped up like he was some sort of popular person. He held a lazy-confident sort of smile despite the serious demeanour he held. His dark brown eyes hiding something, though Ohm couldn’t tell what it was.

“Sir, you haven’t paid for the last two rounds. It would be easier if you-”

“You think I’m that drunk that I don’t remember paying? I-”

“Look sir. I’m sorry. I just thought it would be easier for you. Instead of you fishing out cash and me having to get the change. If you’d-” He was cut off by the demon standing up and leaning on the bar, a somewhat sinister smile on his face.

The look in his eye showed something else, it almost looked like regret.

Some people looked over at the disturbance but looked away almost instantly.

‘What was their problem? They looked so scared.’ Ohm thought as he glanced back at the red man in front of him through his blindfold.

“Don’t pull the innocent act with me bunny-boy. I know who you are! I know who you work for!”

Ohm’s ears flattened down against his head. He didn’t like the name, a small frown formed on his face as his eyebrows furrowed.

“Yes. I work for Mr. Frank Patterson. He owns this casino.” There was an edge to Ohm’s voice, causing monsters to look his way and shaking their head rapidly, their eyes screaming ‘no’.

“No. No you don’t. My father wouldn’t hire anyone from the mafia. Especially from Wildcats’ side of things.”

“Sir… I don’t kno-”

“Bullshit!” The demon now had hold of Ohm dark vest, pulling him closer. “Tyler sent you, didn’t he Ryan.” There was a dark sinister side to his voice but there was something else, as if he were almost afraid of something.

“I swear to god I have no clue what you’re talking abo-” Ohm was cut off by Delirious speaking up, who now had a firm grip on his left arm, the demon on his right held the opposite.

“You will remain silent for the rest of the journey.”

A feeling passed over Ohm; it felt like his voice box had closed up and a weight pressed on his chest, making him want to take deep breaths but remained from doing so. He tried to speak but no sound could be heard, leaving the three men in silence.

“Finally the dumb bunny is quiet.” The demon sighed in a relieved kind of way.

Ohm narrowed his eyes, a scowl scrunching his face up.

‘He’s really starting to sound like Wildcat…’

“I wouldn’t mistake Ohm for being a ‘dumb bunny’, Cartoonz. I don’t even know what power he has, so I’d be careful what you say.” Delirious’ voice held a sharp and serious edge to it.

Ohm looked to delirious, confused.

‘He hadn’t figured out his power?’

Cartoonz grumbled something under his breath as he moved to get behind the bar, jerking Ohm forward harshly, towards the exit as he did so.

They neared two Corvettes, one black and the other an azure blue.

“In.” The demon growled as he opened the passenger door to the black Corvette and shoved Ohm forward.

Ryan stumbled but caught himself before sitting calmly as the door was slammed and the demon stormed towards the driver’s side. He shouted something to Delirious before opening the door and throwing himself into the seat with a scowl.

“I know you won’t be able to reply but you can nod or shake your head. If you lie, I’ll know.” Cartoonz sounded agitated but also curious.

The car roared to life and before Ohm could blink they were out of the carpark with a screech of rubber and a trail of smoke following.

They were currently on a highway to nowhere, well from what Ohm could only assume. Cartoonz was staring intensely at the road ahead, while the blue car stayed close behind them.

“Ok, you blindfold wearing dipshit. Is Wildcat planning on trying to over throw my father?” Cartoonz questioned.

Ohm looked thoughtful for a moment. He knew that if he lied he’d probably get his assed kicked, but it was the same vice-versa. He came to the conclusion of telling the truth, it being the lesser of the two evils. Ohm nodded his head yes.

“Was he planning on doing it in the near future?”

Ohm nodded again.

The demon cursed under his breath. “Really starting to wish Del didn’t bind your mouth shut permanently for the ride… how on earth am I going to get the time frame of the attack?”

Ohm stared thoughtfully at the demon before holding up 1 finger.

“What the fuck are you doing? Threatening me?”

Ohm shook his head.

Cartoonz looked to be in serious thought.

“What are you trying to do then?”

Ohm rolled his eyes under the blindfold and slapped his head.

‘Is he really that stupid?’

“Are you giving me a time? Day?”

Ohm gave a quirt nod.

Cartoonz gave him a side long look.

“You’re being awfully open about this…” Cartoonz looked suspicious.

Ohm shrugged but held up the figure again.

“OK… you are giving me a time span right?” There seemed to be a softer edge to his voice, like something changed in his head.

Ohm nodded.

“OK… week?”

A shake of the head.

“Um… please don’t say it’s a day.” A light panic seemed to tint the demons voice.

Ohm looked at him curiously.

‘Despite him being an ass… he seems to really care for his family.’

Ohm shook his head.

Relief flooded the demons features and his grip lessened on the steering wheel.

“OK then… a month?”

His heart was pounding. He had one more chance to falsely lead them, but he couldn’t find it in his heart to do so.

Ohm looked away and nodded. He could deal with Wildcat’s anger.

And worse come to worse, he could flee to Moo’s group.

Cartoonz slammed the steering wheel harshly. “When we get there you’re gonna tell me exactly how and where he plans to do this. Or your neck will find itself bleeding.”

Cartoonz gave him a look that said it wasn’t an empty threat. But there was also something in his eye that told him that Cartoonz wouldn’t actually enjoy it. Ohm only nodded and looked ahead, his eyes beginning to droop.

“Get some rest. I want you to be able to recall every detail of the plan and not be sleepy. ‘Cause you forget shit when you’re sleepy.”

Ohm nodded, he was feeling tired and besides, if he was going to die, he wanted to catch up on some sleep before then.

He rested his head against the seatbelt, letting sleep numb his body.

“I’ll wake you when we’re there.”

It was the last thing he heard before falling asleep.

#bbs #bbs crew #ohmwrecker #cartoonz #bbs cartoonz #h2o delirious #writing #fan writing #BBS Mafia/Monster A/U #i hope you enjoy #have a good day/night

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angelamoores · 4 years

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Winter Things

A/N: the opening to an unfinished chenry Christmas coffee shop au that may as well be out in the world I guess. Posted on an edited old post because I don’t want to bother anyone with something I never even finished.

JFK wasn’t particularly fun at Christmas time, though this was something Charlotte had been well aware of when she booked her flight home for the holidays. Columbia had finished for the year over a week ago, but her new friends had managed to convince her to stay in town for a little while longer to experience New York’s festivities. That was if three consecutive days shopping at Macy’s really counted as festivities. Served her right for waiting until college to finally get some female friends.

Scanning the board for her flight time, she gripped her suitcase handle a little too tight. Please don’t be cancelled, please don’t be cancelled, please don’t be cancelled.

“ALL FLIGHTS CANCELLED DUE TO WEATHER”

Fucking snow. It’s not like she hadn’t been expecting it, she’d seen the beginning of every holiday rom-com. The only reason she’d even bothered withstanding the gruelling taxi drive through the blizzard was that she had no idea what the hell to do next. What she did know was that there was no point staying in the airport with a bunch of swearing tourists any longer than absolutely necessary.

She hailed a cab back to the city center with a strong sense of deja vu. How the hell was she going to tell her mom she probably wouldn’t be home for Christmas? She still had time before she would have to call her, not that procrastinating was going to make the situation any better.

Once Charlotte was back on the busy streets of New York, she was suddenly overcome with the overwhelming urge for a hot drink. Not Starbucks though, or any of the hipster dumps where people cared more about what the cup looks like than how the actual drink tasted. What she really wanted was a Vanilla Chai Latte from Frank’s in her home town, but that was pretty much impossible now. So instead she just kept walking until she found a little cafe that looked comically out of place in the big city. It was no Frank’s, but it’d do.

It was upon entering that she realised just how empty the place was, despite the freezing cold outside. It didn’t exactly speak well of the place, but she was there now and the warmth was far too inviting to leave.

“A Starbucks just opened across the street,” a voice told her, seemingly able to read her mind. It came from a blond boy behind the counter that must’ve been around her age. He was tall, almost lanky, with a few loose curls of hair falling from beneath his cap that read ‘Susie’s Coffee, est. 1968.’

“I see,” she replied, approaching the counter feeling more nervous than before. “I suppose you’re Susie?” She mused in a feeble attempt to break the tension.

“In the flesh,” the boy replied with a laugh that told her he hadn’t expected that kinda response. A short silence followed and it became apparent that they were the only ones in there. That was apart from an old lady sat by the window, too engrossed in her crossword to pay any mind to what they were doing.

“I’m Henry, Henry Hart.” Charlotte didn’t know why the boy had felt it was important for her to know his real name when she was just a customer, then again it had been a slow day from the looks of it.

“Charlotte. Page-Bolton.” She hesitated between the words, not sure whether to give him her full name.

“Double barrel,” Henry The Barista nodded and she didn’t really know how to respond to that. The Christmas song that been playing ended and another began. Judging by the look on his face, it wasn’t the first time that song had played that day.

Not exactly sure what to do next, Charlotte looked around and noticed there was a stool by the counter, three in fact. Figuring that there was no need to sit completely alone when Henry clearly had nothing else to do, she hopped up onto it and set her suitcase down beside her.

“Alright blondie, fancy making me a drink?” She asked, her boredom turning to confidence. He jumped away from the wall he’d been leaning on as if only just realising he was supposed to be working.

“You do know this isn’t a bar, right? Also I literally just told you my name.” Charlotte rested her head in her hands and and stared at him with pursed lips. “Fine, okay, what can I get for you today, miss?” He smirked as he slipped into his customer service voice.

“One vanilla chai latte please, sir.” He gave her look that might as well have told her to go to the Starbucks across the street. They had a stare down, but once it was clear she wasn’t budging he pulled out a binder of drink recipes and began to flip through it.

“Not a popular drink?” She laughed as he frowned at the instructions before him.

“People come to Susie’s for coffee. Maybe a muffin,” he grumbled. The truth was people didn’t really come to Susie’s for anything anymore, though that probably had something to do with their refusal for any sort of promotional drink.

“I only drink coffee on finals week. Though now that you mention it, I could go for a muffin.” Somewhere along the line, her tone had switched from friendly to flirty. She could chalk this up to boredom, too, but something about how often she’d found herself staring into his brown eyes told her otherwise.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her phone ringing on the counter beside her. Her mom. Great. She held up a finger to Henry to let him know she’d only be a sec before answering the call.

“Charlotte! I just got an email to say your flight was canceled!” Her mom yelled. Of course she had, she was the one who paid for the flight. Henry, who must have heard her mother’s screeching through the phone, widened his eyes at her in amusement.

“Yes, mom, I know-”

“You know? And you didn’t call me?” She was quieter now, and Charlotte could tell she’d upset her. It was her first year away at college and one of her promises was that she’d be home for Christmas.

“I was going to,” she paused, fiddling with her necklace with her spare hand. “But I know how important this was to you, I couldn’t ruin the holidays for you just yet.”

“I’m sorry, honey. This isn’t your fault,” her mom sighed, and they both fell silent. In front of her, Henry had just placed a muffin down, knocking the almost complete drink over in the process.

“Fuck!” He exclaimed as the glass hit the floor and she couldn’t help but laugh. Henry mumbled an apology, but the damage was done.

“Who was that?”

#chenry #henry danger #henry hart #charlotte page bolton #my writing #fic #au

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bitsandbobsandstuff · 6 years

Text

Safe with me (12)

Summary: When an unknown threat enters your life, protection is offered at the highest level. As Bucky Barnes comes into your life, the game changes, and you realise falling for the man tasked with keeping you safe is the last thing you expected.

Characters: Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Bad language. References to sex, and fleeting descriptions (I call it SFW, 16+). Drug usage. Character death.

PLEASE READ A/N: Take the warnings seriously please. You need a new assignment. Bucky finally figures things out. Drugs are really bad and they are not cool. Do not fucking do them.

This chapter was exhausting. Next chapter in two weeks.

Tags for this story are CLOSED Link here for posting schedule

SAFE WITH ME MASTERLIST PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Previously...

Digging into his jacket pocket, he pulls out a small blue pill bottle, the contents rattling softly when he sets it on the table. His voice is polished and refined, the cadence and accent an unexpected sound, here in this dirty, broken corner of the Bronx.

“Time for one last mission.”

*****

Deep in the bowels of the Tower, there's a small room with four bare concrete walls and long strips of fluorescent lights stretching in a crooked line across the ceiling. A shabby metal table sits slightly askew, with four unbalanced chairs situated around the edges. The temperature is kept low, a chilly 55F, but even at that level most people still sweat. Everything about the room is designed to keep its visitors on their toes, off-balance and unsettled.

Along one side of the table, two super soldiers sit shoulder to shoulder.

"Interviews. What a colossal waste of time, we're not gonna find someone good enough. Don't understand why you can't do it," Bucky grumbles, flicking angrily through the short-listed agent profiles. Each candidate comes highly recommended, vouched for by top brass from Nick Fury to Phil Coulson to Melinda May.

Bucky is unimpressed.

Steve is tipping back in his chair, balancing on two legs as he scrolls through his phone. Part of Bucky, the part who's jaw still stings from the kiss of Steve's fist, wants to kick the legs out from under him and watch him topple over. The other more rational part, reminds him that this is his best friend and he honestly deserved that punch.

Doesn't matter. Bucky's feeling salty.

"Don't be stupid, you know I'm no good at this shit. She needs someone with experience, and someone a little less recognizable than Captain fucking America. Besides, if you hadn't fucked this up, we wouldn't even be here," Steve reminds him.

"If you hadn't fucked this up, we wouldn't even be here," Bucky mimics under his breath.

"Excuse you, asshole," Steve snaps, letting the chair drop with a bang. "You got something to say, let's hear it."

Bucky bites into his cheek so hard, the taste of blood floods his mouth. He chews on the words, reluctant to offer them.

"Sorry," he grinds out instead. Clearly not sorry at all.

"Are you gonna tell me what happened?" Steve demands.

"No," Bucky responds shortly.

"Great. If you don't talk, you don't get to be pissed. Put your big boy pants on and figure out a better way to handle this, because if you just wanna act like a complete dick, we can head downstairs and go a few rounds."

Normally Bucky appreciates the frank honesty, especially when it's aimed at other people, but fuck if it doesn't suck when it's directed at him. Scrubbing both hands down his face, he throws a pleading glance at Steve.

"I slept with her," he admits in a quiet rush, praying Steve won't hear, but knowing super serum means super hearing.

"Yeah, Buck. I kinda assumed. And?"

"And – nothing. I slept with her. That wasn't supposed to happen. I jeopardized the entire operation because I couldn't control myself."

"Couldn't control yourself?" Steve scoffs at the words. "Really Buck. That seriously the line you're using?"

"Yeah, asshat, that's seriously what this is about."

"Okay, so let me just summarize. You've spent weeks with each other, she told you all about her past and you told her all about yours. The two of you constantly defend each other from other people, you seem to get off on her busting your balls, you showed her your super secret apartment that only two other human beings on the planet know about, and you light up like a lovesick idiot the moment she walks in a room. So then you sleep with her and the next morning you tell her you didn't mean to do it, and you let things get out of control?"

Bucky opens his mouth to refute it, but nothing comes.

"Do you regret it?"

"I regret letting things – "

"Bucky. Do you regret it?"

"Steve, I'm saying I regret letting everything – "

"Stop it, you're not answering the question. Sex was one small thing, in the grand scheme of your relationship. I'm asking – do you regret letting her in your life?"

Before he can respond, there's a sharp rap on the metal door, and Bucky slams his hands on the table with an angry growl. He doesn't know who he hates more right now, himself or Steve Rogers, but both are pissing him the fuck off.

Turning away from the triumphant smile on Steve's stupid face, he shouts at the door.

"Come in!"

*****

INTERVIEW 1

"Agent Diaz, can you walk through the infiltration strategy used in Mission 47A?"

"Yes sir. There were three behind, two in front, and I wanted – "

– "I want you Bucky." Jesus Christ, her words light him on fire, he didn't know how much he wanted them, how much he needed them, until they touched his ears –

Bucky chokes on his water when it slips down the wrong pipe, coughing up a spray that splatters Diaz's face. From the corner of his eye, he sees Steve pinching the bridge of his nose and he apologizes profusely.

Why the hell is he dredging this up in the middle of an interview?

*****

INTERVIEW 2

"Agent Avery, can you describe how you discovered the weapons cache during Mission 92F?"

"Yes Captain. The corridors were filled with sulphur, it smelled like – "

– she smells like vanilla, tastes like honey, and he drags his tongue across her skin with a low moan. Shaking hands push her legs apart and he's so god damn hard it hurts –

He clears his throat. Several times. Bucky Barnes' brain is a god damn motherfucking turncoat.

*****

INTERVIEW 3

"Agent Thomas, what was the purpose of maintaining the hostage situation for Mission 23B?"

"Well sir, I feel – "

– he feels a deep ache running along the seam of his arm. His scars always feel like ice, but her hot breath licks along the raised streaks of red, and for the first time in 70 god damn years, the ache begins to subside –

In his entire life, he's honestly never felt anything that compared to the feel of your mouth on him. But that's sort of beside the point right now.

*****

INTERVIEW 4

"Agent Korishnakova, explain your rationale for entering the hostile base during Mission 56J."

"We chose to break through the retaining walls, since ripping the – "

– he nearly rips the sheets when he grabs a fistful, fighting to stop himself from coming at the sight of her lips wrapped tight around him, the wicked gleam in her eye when she looks up from between his legs –

Bucky shifts in his chair, trying to subtly adjust the sudden rising situation. He's gonna look like a real creep if anyone notices what's going on.

*****

INTERVIEW 5

"Agent Ford, how did the firefight during Mission 33W escalate so quickly?"

"Well sir, we were tired of trying to sweat them out – "

– he tastes the sweat that's beading on the end of her nose. She fits so perfectly in his arms, when he ducks his head down and hides his face against her neck. Christ, he can't let her see how much this is affecting him –

Bucky wants to break his brain. Literally. It won't stop screaming, determined to punish him for the mind-blowing level of idiocy he exhibited this morning.

– he can feel her hands rubbing his back, god dammit she feels so fucking good, so warm and safe –

Barnes you stupid cocksucker, don't you go there, don't.

– You can let go Bucky, I've got you.

Would it be unprofessional to slam his head through the wall? Jesus H. Christ, Mary Mother of God. How did he let this happen?

He has no idea, but here he is, with Steve's words still rattling in his head.

Do you regret it?

"Stop. You're hired," Bucky interrupts, metal chair screeching when he jumps up, because he just can't do this right now. Slapping your file on the table, it lands with a bang. "Memorize all of this by tomorrow morning – it's an order, not a suggestion – and be ready to go by 0600. Captain Rogers will escort you over. I expect an update emailed to me by 0700 every morning."

Briefing complete, he stalks toward the door, throwing one final comment over this shoulder.

"You fuck this up in any way, and I'll tie you down and personally shatter your knees. Not a joke."

"Y-Yes sir," he hears Agent Ford stutter.

Bucky smiles grimly and slams the door behind him.

*****

Two days. Forty-eight hours. Two-thousand eight hundred and eighty minutes. Time moves like a snail through salt, slowly and painfully.

When he's around other people, Bucky is his normal, surly self. He grunts at questions and rolls his eyes at Sam. Sneers at Tony and threatens wordless violence at Steve. No one questions him.

Behind closed doors, he's a mess. He's taken to opening the tracking app and sullenly watching your little white dot move around his phone. If someone caught him right now, he'd have a hard time rationalizing this, because it's weird. He knows that, he really does.

He just doesn't care.

Do you regret it?

Shifting uncomfortably in a squeaky leather chair, he props his chin on his fist and stares morosely at the wall of screens in front of him.

After he identified the stalker's image, it's been cycling through every database across the globe. The photo has made the rounds within SHIELD, the FBI, the CIA, the NYPD. Every law enforcement official with a badge or a gun has seen his face, and it's more than a little unnerving that they still haven't located him.

He's not actually being helpful, he knows that. FRIDAY can scan a thousand faces at a time, she has this covered, but he needs to do something. Something other than sit and stew in his usual bucket of self-loathing, anyway.

Do you regret it?

So here he is, hiding in the control room. Every time Bucky asks a question, FRIDAY responds immediately, but the answers are short and mechanical and he feels flustered at the clipped note in her voice. Licking his lips nervously, he asks a tentative question.

"Hey FRIDAY? Exactly how pissed at me are you right now?"

"I'm not mad, Sergeant Barnes."

Bucky was unaware that an AI could actually lie, but yeah. She is very definitely mad.

"Okay...but if you're not mad, why do you sound like Steve's very angry, very Irish Ma right now?"

Long pause.

Her voice comes again, softer but still firm.

"I'm not mad, Sergeant Barnes. I'm disappointed."

"Christ," Bucky huffs, dropping his head to the table. "That's worse."

He hears a sigh. Which is so strange, that the AI is sighing at him.

"Sir, I'd like you to listen for a minute. Mr. Stark programmed me to be perfectly functional. I'm able to decipher the things I observe and break them down to their fundamental parts. The most real-world application is solving mechanical queries or searching databases, as I'm doing now. But I also understand how to decipher language and, to some extent, emotion. Your most recent job – I've spent weeks watching the two of you interact. I'm disappointed Sergeant, because the two of you are very clearly in love, and you hurt her very badly when you rejected her feelings."

Bucky lifts his head incredulously at the assessment.

"Wait, what? What do you mean, we're clearly in love?"

FRIDAY remains silent.

"I care for her, yeah. I have feelings for her, sure. And I guess she liked me alright before I screwed all this up, but those aren't – we're not in love."

FRIDAY remains silent.

And so, Bucky takes a step back. He thinks about the night you spent together, the one that's been playing on repeat since the moment he slunk like a coward from your sleeping arms. It hurts to think, but hey, he was always one for self-flagellation. He pulls it up again, and remembers the look in your eyes when he kissed you, the feel of your body moving under his. He hears your voice whispering soft in his ear, as clear as though you were next to him, telling him you had him. That he could let go.

"I love her?"

FRIDAY is still silent, letting him work through his messy musings on his own.

And then he finally, finally, gets there.

"Holy shit. I love her. I love her." Bucky breathes, testing the words on his tongue. "How did I not realize this? Fuck me sideways, I have to fix this."

"Yes sir," FRIDAY agrees, and her voice is much warmer.

"I can fix this," he whispers to himself. He settles down to think. He needs to plan, he needs a strategy, he has to get this right.

He can fix this.

*****

"What's going on with you?" Jack asks curiously. "You're moping. Why?"

"Nothing," you declare defensively, looking up from your notebook, where little stick figures with angry faces are doodled in the margins. "I'm not moping, I'm fine."

Jack cocks a spectacularly skeptical eyebrow.

"Sure. Barnes have any updates on locating the guy?"

"I don't know," you answer, voice cold and clipped. "I suggest you ask him yourself."

Jack's bemused by the terse response. "You plan on telling me what happened with you two?"

"Nothing happened, alright? He's just a huge asshole and I couldn't deal with it anymore. Let him run off and find this guy and then go piss off someone else." Throwing your pen at the computer screen, you lean back in your chair. "Now, I'm bored and I need a new story. Give me something interesting or I'm quitting and going to work at The Post."

"Fine," Jack says mildly. "I have something if you're interested. Different than your recent assignments."

"Bitchin. Hit me."

"There's a new drug dealer working the Upper East Side, seems to have connections into the eastern European network. He's pushing a nasty version of Ecstasy, it's cut with something else, no one knows what, but it's been causing all kinds of strange hallucinations and general hysteria."

"Alright. I assume he's planning to show his face soon?"

"Yes. Rumor's saying he'll be at that club 'Red Devil' down in Hell's Kitchen tonight. Think you could get in? See if you can get him to talk?"

It's beyond annoying, that the first thing to pop in your head, is whether or not Bucky would approve. After spending weeks with the man, his constant paranoia and unadulterated loathing of crowded spaces are two traits that have stuck. You know straight away he'd put his foot down on this, would refuse to let you go. You can almost hear that deep, acerbic voice saying 'don't be stupid.'

The rational part of you agrees. The other part, who owns the heart he unceremoniously battered and bruised a few days earlier, doesn't care, because Bucky Barnes gave up the right to tell you what to do, so he can fuck right off.

"Sure, I'm intrigued," you say, motioning for the notes. "You know I enjoy nailing assholes like this to the wall."

Jack drops a thin sheaf of paper into your outstretched hands.

"Dial down the confidence please. Be civil, don't scare him off. At least try to be nice."

You want to be insulted at the insinuation, but there's no point in arguing. He's right. Your patience for douchebags is at an all-time low. The vision of Bucky's face swims before you again, his mouth curved into a disappointed frown.

The image makes you want to throat punch him.

"Fine," you say sweetly. "I'll be nice."

"Yeah, I'm sure you will be," Jack says cynically. He turns to walk away, throwing one last comment over his shoulder. "Text me through the night, let me know how it's going. And be very careful. Keep your eyes open. Don't trust anyone."

*****

STARKPHONE MESSAGING APP

BARNES: why the fucking hell did you agree to take her to a club?

FORD: I tried to tell her no sir.

BARNES: How hard did you try?

FORD: I told her no, she laughed, said 'that's cute' and told me to pick her up at 2100

BARNES: FFS I'll be there before you arrive.

Bucky rubs his forehead. Just because he can admit he loves you, doesn't make him any less irritated. A nightclub? Trying to cajole a drug dealer? Exactly why do you have such blatant disregard for his sanity?

Hand to heart, if you let him fix this, he's dragging you back to his apartment and keeping you in his bed for a solid week, because he needs a vacation.

*****

Dressed in black from head-to-toe, you give your reflection a critical once over. Sleeveless black top, black pants, black ankle boots. You really hope this is what the kids are wearing at clubs these days, because it's been literal years since you set foot in one.

Rolling your shoulders, you take a deep breath. Storm clouds have been gathering all day, and the night feels oddly oppressive, heavy pressure pushing down from above. Like the whole of Manhattan is holding its collective breath before the storm lets loose. Anxiety prickles along your skin, a jittery unease crawling up and down. It makes you itch.

God damn woman, calm your tits, you chastise sternly. This isn't a big deal. This isn't even the hardest story you've worked. Get it together.

Uncapping a tube of lipstick, you add your only concession to color, a pop of brilliant red. It soothes your nerves a little. Makes you feel powerful. Smart. A little badass.

Turning from the mirror, you snatch up a small black purse and start filling it with random items, wondering again why you agreed to do this. Right now, a bottle of wine, your sofa, and re-watching Stranger Things for the third time feels like a better decision. Maybe you should just cancel. Call the whole thing off and lay low.

But you know you won't. You're committed and how annoying is that.

Agent Ford was less than thrilled when you told him where he'd be spending the evening. You wonder if he has to report this little adventure back to SHIELD. Or rather, back to Bucky. Assuming he's still floating around in the background.

Floating around, being a self-sacrificing asshole.

Whatever. It doesn't matter. You don't care. Because it doesn't matter what Bucky Barnes thinks. At all.

Snapping the purse shut, you give your dresser a childish kick of frustration, before stomping out the door.

*****

Whether it's stealth mode or club mode, Bucky really doesn't care. Black is functional and he wears it because he likes it. Plus, he genuinely believes it makes him look scary and intimidating, and that always makes him happy.

Smoothing the collar of his black button-down, he wipes his palms reflexively down the front of his dark jeans. It's an involuntary movement, a nervous tick he's had since he was 12-years-old, and even though he's had this metal monstrosity for most of his life, the behavior is ingrained.

He takes several deep breaths, filling his lungs over and over, sweeping away the mental cobwebs. He's laser focused on the task ahead, a singular thought the guiding light to get him through the next few hours.

I can fix this.

All he wants is to make his peace with you. His stupid heart has dragged him kicking and screaming to the edge, and now that he's allowed himself to accept what he wants, his brain refuses to shut the hell up until he takes the plunge.

I can fix this.

He'll prostrate himself at your feet and beg forgiveness if he has to, because there's no way in hell he's going through one more day without you. Whatever it takes, whatever you ask of him, he'll give it. Grovel if he has to, he honestly doesn't care.

I can fix this.

Sheets of lightening explode across the night sky, unending flickers of light dancing on a repetitive loop through the dark clouds.

I can fix this.

He can fix this.

He has to.

*****

From the moment he set the wheels in motion, it's all been leading toward this night, in some form or fashion. Like the structured components of a play, the curtain falls tonight on Act 4. When the sun rises, Act 5 opens with new stage directions and a new cast of characters, complete with one bombshell reveal.

He's been watching so closely for so long, waiting behind the curtain for his entrance, and he marvels at how perfectly it's all come together. True, there were last minute adjustments. He planned for a host of different scenarios, but never in his wildest dreams, did he expect the Soldier to actually fall in love with her.

What an unexpected treat!

When the time comes to eliminate Bucky Barnes for good, he knows exactly how to do it, the perfect way to break him, to make the end infinitely sweeter.

He swirls his glass of vodka absently, listening to the soft clink as ice taps the glass. A brilliant flash of light illuminates the night sky and thunder immediately booms, echoes of low sound bouncing through the jungle of metal and concrete. His window rattles with the vibration, his reflection wavering in the clear glass.

Yes, he's certainly been waiting for this for a very long time.

Raising the glass, he smiles and takes another sip.

*****

Rain is pouring down outside, and the air in the club feels steamy, a mix of damp clothes and heavy breathing and spilled drinks.

Never in your life have you been a clubber. Music so loud you'll go deaf? Shoes coated in urine because no one seems capable of peeing in the toilet? Drunk slobbering jerks pawing all over you?

No thanks.

Yet here you are. Wondering how you always end up agreeing to things and then remembering with a jolt of annoyance that it's your own fault, because you're such a weak bitch for a byline.

Scoring a place at the dealer's table turns out to be laughably easy. Sending over a bottle of Dom Perignon, you watch the waiter set it in front of him and point to where you stand by the bar. Raising a glass in acknowledgement, you shoot him a sultry smile and turn away, praying it's enough to pique his interest.

Less than a minute later, there's a tap on your shoulder, and you turn to find a tall man in a tight purple sweater staring down at you. His sleeves are pushed back, revealing faded tattoos running up his forearms, and the lights reflect off his shaved head. He leans down to speak in your ear, and you hear a heavy, broken accent.

"You will please join us."

It's amazing how many doors a bit of flattery and a high credit card limit will open.

Without waiting for your answer, he places a possessive hand at your back and propels you forward, guiding you through a mass of dancing bodies toward a secluded booth in the back.

The man looks up when you arrive, detaching himself from the arms of the beautiful woman currently occupying his lap. Shoving her aside, he lays his arm over the back of the booth and smiles up at you. Sliding in next to him, the smells of expensive cologne and more expensive vodka burn your nose.

He leans over, and his refined accent sends shivers up your spine.

"Hello gorgeous. How about we get to know each other?"

*****

From across the bar, Bucky stands high up on a catwalk. He remains in the shadows, wraith-like in both appearance and mannerisms. Looking over the crowd, he keeps your corner booth in his periphery, while his eyes track steadily through the packed club.

Before he arrived, he called up a blueprint of the building and committed it to memory, making sure he knew every last detail. Finding the necessary points, he cycles through those details, planting the customary mental markers in place.

Total building occupancy 583, single door entrance located on the east side of the building. Two bouncers manning the door, neither armed with anything but well-practiced fists. Twenty-eight security cameras positioned through the club, with exactly none of those cameras pointed at the secluded VIP booth where you were sitting. Single door exit point on the west wall, illuminated by a neon green sign; bathrooms on the north wall, accessed through a heavy velvet curtain.

No windows. He sighs irritably. He despises places like this.

Ever watchful, he scans the crowd, picking people at random. Examining faces and movements, he grumbles in frustration at the number of people wearing cloth masks over the bottom half of their face. Some of the them are colorful, with funky geometric patterns and some have cartoon characters – Scooby Doo and SpongeBob are wildly popular. Some are modeled after real people, and he allows a small smile at the number of bright green Hulk faces.

The smile slides from his face when he sees one with his old Winter Soldier muzzle patterned across the front. His hand drifts to the knife at his side, fingers toying with the handle. What he wouldn't give to shred that mask into tiny pieces.

That might draw attention though.

"Ford, re-confirm your position," Bucky speaks calmly, letting his eyes fall back on you.

"Still north of the entrance, ten feet from the bathroom. Clear visual, slightly obstructed path." Ford's voice comes clearly through the tiny comms tucked in Bucky's ear.

Bucky feels his entire body twitch with rage, when he sees the dealer pulling you closer, ducking his head to speak against your ear. The urge to swing off this catwalk, stomp over to the booth, and shove this guy's fist up his own ass is overwhelming.

Patience, he counsels internally. Just get through this. Then you can go buy her a bucket of coffee and a basket of tacos and sit outside her door until she forgives you.

Coffee and tacos. And dramatically throwing himself at your feet. You had to forgive him then, right?

But to get there, he still has to get through tonight without murdering the sleazy bastard sitting at your side. That task seems more impossible with every passing second, and he takes a few deep breaths to stay calm.

He watches the way you keep your hand tight around your glass, fingers casually covering the top, not letting anyone else near it.

Smart, he thinks proudly. All his harping and paranoia apparently got through in some way.

He huffs out a slow breath. He can do this.

*****

This story and this club both suck so much.

There's a fine sheen of moisture coating your skin, and it turns to ice when you feel his fingers grazing the back of your neck. Keeping the revulsion from your expression is getting hard, because this dickbag is handsy as hell, and so far, completely uninterested in talking. Instead, he simply leers every time you try to engage him in conversation. His hand is massaging your thigh, moving a little further north with every passing minute, and you realize you can only play the coy card for so long before he gets suspicious or bored.

When one of his cronies leans over and catches his attention, you breathe a sigh of relief. Searching for another option for answers, you glance to the girl on your left, catching her surreptitiously slipping a small white pill under her tongue. Her eyes flit up to you, cocking an eyebrow in disdain.

"Can I help you?"

Pasting on a sugary sweet smile, you lean close and try to get her talking.

"What's with the masks everyone's wearing?"

She gives you a condescending look.

"Are you serious?"

There's a moment of brief panic. Is this something you're supposed to know? You know jack shit about club culture, you literally had a few hours to research this story, and her snotty comment throws you off.

"Sorry, I'm from out of town," you apologize.

Her lip curls and she rolls her eyes.

"For the rush, obviously. Take a pill," she holds up a small blue bottle, gives it a rattle. "Put Vicks on the cloth and pull it over your mouth. Inhaling while you're rolling sends you flying."

Jesus, the creativity used to get high is astounding. Why can't people take that ingenuity and apply it to something worthwhile? They could probably end world hunger and solve world peace, but no, they're all here getting shitty drugs off a shitty dealer, who is a shitty human being with shitty motives, and you're stuck investigating his shittiness.

Patience is running thin tonight.

There's a tap at your shoulder, and you glance back to see the waiter holding a tray of drinks. He hands you a glass of liquid, one of the house specials you ordered earlier in the evening, when you went up to the bar and opened a tab for the night. Smiling gratefully, you take a swig of the cold water, and turn your attention back to the dance floor.

*****

Bucky has taken to pacing along the catwalk.

The atmosphere in the club grates. The smells of forced air and rank sweat and spilled liquor assail the senses, and he grimaces.

He hates this so much.

"Ford, update," he barks in the comms, stopping to squint through the strange haze that seems to fill the room, unable to tear his eyes from you for more than a few minutes.

"Same position. All good."

All good.

Bucky goes back to pacing.

*****

Impossibly, the music gets louder, the bass so low and heavy, you feel it reverberating in your bones. Strobe lights are dancing through the room, pulses of white that make the club feel like a bizarre stop-motion film. With every flash, the crowds are shifted, stilted movements displaying new formations with each burst of light.

Something feels strange.

Lifting your water to your lips, you take a long drink, wondering why the hell you're feeling so parched. Gulping it down, there's a moment of respite, before your body starts to buzz.

Something feels off.

A wave of nausea smacks into you out of nowhere, twisting your stomach into a hard knot.

Looking at the glass again, you set it down slowly.

Turning slightly, you find him watching you closely, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Something wrong, gorgeous?"

"Did you – my drink," your lips are tingling, and your mouth feels full of cotton. He runs a finger down your arm, his blunt nail leaving a long scratch.

"It feels nice, doesn't it? Just enjoy it." The hand on your thigh moves higher, and he plays with the zipper of your pants. "Or we can go somewhere private, and I can show you how good it can make you feel."

You realize in that instant, how out of your depth you truly are. He must have gotten to your drink. How the hell did he get to your drink? From the moment the waiter set it in front of you, you've had your eyes on it. Shit, shit, shit.

It's too much. Getting the story isn't worth this. You're calling it.

"No," you say weakly, shoving his hand away. "No, stop. I feel – fuck, I feel like shit."

"Ah, she can't handle it," he laughs, leaning back in the booth with a challenging grin. "Little girl is a big disappointment. I guess he was right."

What?

You need to parse apart that comment and figure out what the hell he means, but it needs to wait, because right now your first priority is getting out of here.

"Move," you mumble, shoving at the girl next to you. Limp as a rag doll, she doesn't budge, looking up at you with glassy eyes.

So you scramble over her instead, stumbling to your feet, gripping the edge of the table to stop swaying. Stabbing bursts of white hot heat flash across your skin, and you drag a shaky arm across your forehead, feeling the slick sweat rubbing away your make-up.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Behind you, he's still laughing.

The music grows even louder, working its way into your chest, until you feel your heartbeat pounding with the rhythm of the driving bass. Bright colors swirl all around you, the entire world flipped to vivid technicolor, an experience so intense you nearly retch when the nausea sweeps through you again.

Trying frantically to clear your head, you locate the neon red sign pointing to the bathroom. Stumbling forward, you ricochet off the bodies surrounding you, fighting your way through the tightly packed crowd.

God dammit, what's happening, are you even moving? Everything is sluggish and your legs feel like lead, so heavy you can barely walk.

Bucky, where are you? Please, please, please, I need you! The traitorous little voice pops up out of nowhere, but Bucky isn't here. He didn't want you, so you pushed him away, and now you're about to OD on what you can only assume is garbage Ecstasy at some trashy club in Midtown, and how did this happen?

From across the room, you see a tall man with panicked eyes shoving people aside as he fights through the crowd. Confusion muddles your brain when you see blond hair glinting in the flashing lights, because that doesn't make sense, Bucky doesn't have blond hair, what is he doing?

No, not Bucky, Ford. Agent Ford. Agent Ford is your bodyguard now, he's coming to get you, he'll save you. Disappointment wells up and you choke back a sob, because it's not right, he's not right. He's not Bucky.

But none of it matters.

Shaking knees give way, your body slumping to the floor, but in the last moment, you're caught by a firm arm curving protectively around your waist. You want to thank your savior, but all you can see are hazy features, your vision transforming the world into a blur of random shapes. Digging the heel of your palm into your eye, the image clears for a split second and you find yourself looking at a familiar face.

The waiter who's been serving your table all night.

There's an audible ping in your head when the puzzle piece clicks into place.

Light brown hair falls over his forehead, hazel eyes glowing feverishly. Reaching a shaking hand to his face, you tug down the black and red checked cloth covering his mouth, revealing an insane smile stretching his lips wide. He keens at your touch, his entire body shuddering when he feels your fingers on his skin. He leans closer, his voice gasping at your ear.

"It's okay, I'm here. You're all mine now."

Eyes roll back in your head as your body shuts down. The last coherent thought before your world goes black, is that you never told Bucky Barnes you loved him.

*****

Dread rises swiftly when Bucky sees you trying to claw your way out of the booth. When you hit your feet and immediately sway, he feels his stomach plummet. You weren't drinking, he knows you weren't.

If you're not drunk, then what –

Blind panic hits him like a wrecking ball.

"Ford! Get over there, now! He spiked her drink, god dammit, he spiked her fucking drink!" Bucky shouts into his comms.

Through the bursts of light, he sees Agent Ford shoving people as he fights his way toward you. There are too many people, too many people everywhere. Sweat rolls down Bucky's temples as he paces along the catwalk, trying to keep you in his line of sight. The mass of bodies is like a giant parasite, growing and shifting and spreading and suddenly you're swallowed up in the swarm, hidden from view.

"Motherfucker, god dammit," he swears viciously. "I lost visual! She was heading toward the bathroom, cut her off. Pull her out of this, get her out now, I don't care what she says!"

"I can see her," Ford's voice comes confidently through the comms. "There's someone with her, he's hol – "

Ford is cut off.

And Bucky can't see why, because the entire club has gone pitch black.

The music drops to a slow tempo, the thudding bass so low, it rattles the bottles of liquor lined along the bar. Suddenly the room comes alive. Whirling ropes of neon glowsticks swirl above the dancers, pinks and greens and yellows spinning through the air, like toxic dayglow snakes.

"Ford! Answer!" Bucky yells into the comms.

Silence.

Without another thought, Bucky sprints to the edge of the catwalk and with a graceful leap, jumps over the railing.

Sparks fly from metal fingers when he catches the edge of a tall steel beam riveted against the wall, the friction slowing his descent to the floor below. The music slams into him the instant his feet touch the ground, the unrelenting beat raising the hair on his neck. Palms held in front of him, he roughly scoops people out of the way as he elbows toward the bright red glow marking the bathrooms.

"Ford! Fucking answer me!" He shouts again, but the music is loud, so much louder down here, he can't even hear his own voice.

The musical snap of a whip slices through the air, and Bucky feels the breath punched out of him, the twirling lights and harsh sounds triggering long-buried memories. The smothering darkness, the crack of leather on skin, unearthly howls of pain, the sweaty scent of adrenaline and fear, all of it floods back as he feels unwelcome hands all over him, his body pushed and pulled against the crowd.

Motherfucker, he hasn't had a panic attack in forever, he doesn't have time, he can't afford one now.

Breathe, he screams internally. Calm down and breathe. You're no use to her if you're not in control!

Sucking in a massive breath, he lets the dizzying feel of oxygen replenish his mind, forcing him to calm down. To breathe. To reign in the panic.

He finds the control. Clips it back in place.

You can do this Barnes.

He keeps staggering forward, moving through the wall of people, until it suddenly breaks open. Bucky cries in relief as his hands grip the plush velvet curtain separating the bathrooms from the rest of the club, and cool air rushes at him when he jerks it aside and runs through.

The walls of the long hallway are splashed with nightmare inducing streaks of red and black, the lighting so dim, Bucky forces his eyes open wide to navigate.

"Answer me Ford, where are you?" He can finally hear his own voice again, the hoarse sound of his vocal cords momentarily shocking him.

Silence.

"Sonofabitch," he hisses furiously and then he pulls up short with the idea. What is he doing? He can find you. Easily. Trembling fingers dig for his phone, yanking it from his pocket and with a swipe of his finger, he opens the tracking app. He holds his breath, waiting for the little white dot to appear, and sure enough a little dot appears instantly – but it's no longer white. It blinks rapidly, a horrifyingly bloody red, and Bucky staggers, crashing into the wall.

There's a moment of silence that blankets him as he stares in stunned disbelief at his phone.

And in the next moment, he's screaming your name at the top of his lungs.

Silence.

Barrelling toward the end of the hall, he follows the path toward the little red dot, his entire body vibrating with barely restrained fury. When he reaches the black door, the one housing the little red dot, the one containing his worst nightmare, he throws all his weight against it, expecting to meet resistance. It gives way instantly and Bucky falls into a dark hallway.

And trips over a warm, heavy body.

Dropping to his knees, Bucky feels for a pulse on the neck of Agent Ford, who lies facedown on the floor, the left side of his blond hair matted with the sticky red blood streaming down his face.

Bucky feels his vision go white, when he sees the source of the red dot.

Your tracking bracelet is clipped around Ford's wrist.

The howl of pure rage spills from his throat, and Bucky's back on his feet, spinning circles like a caged animal. He reorients himself in an instant, remembering his mental markers, remembering the blueprints he memorized, and he turns left, sprinting down another long hallway toward an exit he knows will lead into a narrow back alley.

The metal door smacks against the brick wall with a clang when Bucky bursts through, jumping down half a flight of steps, eyes sweeping frantically over grimy brick walls towering around him in the dark alley.

Rain is still pouring down, plastering his clothes to his skin, dripping hair lashing his cheeks when he whips around. In that moment, the smell slams into him and he begins to gag.

There's a body leaning against the wall in front of him. A trickle of blood runs from the bullet hole drilled between his lifeless hazel eyes, his mouth fixed in small 'O' of surprise. The bitter tang of lemons is so overpowering as it bleeds from his body, Bucky's mouth puckers at the tart scent. The sizzling odor of burning meat reaches his nose next, the two scents surrounding him like some sick version of a summer barbecue, before he sees the reason.

The image is there, the one that haunts him asleep and awake. One he will recognize until the day the good Lord sees fit to drag him from this world. Dripping bloody red and charred black, branded on the stalker's neck, are eight tentacles curling below a skull, the skin blistered and bubbled.

Them.

Only a couple feet away, face up in a puddle of murky, garbage filled water, lies your phone. Bucky numbly reaches for the slim device, and it lights up at his touch, revealing a familiar picture as your wallpaper. You and him, a silly selfie he remembers you snapping the night of Stark's party. You're laughing, nose scrunched up as you angle the camera down. Bucky's leaning over your shoulder, grinning up at the phone.

Them.

Again.

Bucky Barnes has spent most of his life on battlefields. He knows the scents of coppery blood and fresh shit, gunpowder and rotting flesh, that sickeningly unique smell of adrenaline-laced sweat that covers the skin of every terrified soldier. He has an iron stomach, has had since his first week mucking through the trenches in 1943. Nothing phases him.

But tonight, he smells burning flesh mixed with lemons, he sees your laughing smile amid the horrors that have come home yet again, and in that dark, wet alleyway, he loses it. He crashes to his knees and he vomits, again and again and again, until the burning, acid taste of stomach bile is the only thing he can remember.

*****

Next Chapter

*****

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #safe with me #bucky fan fic #bucky barnes fan fic

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bee-kathony · 6 years

Text

McTavish & Beauchamp | Unexpected News

Previous Chapters

Ch. 13 | Unexpected News

Paris, France - 10 months later

We’d been in Paris for nearly two months and since our arrival, things had moved along rather swiftly. Jamie’s cousin, Jared Fraser, welcomed us into his home with open arms, with one condition. That being, Jamie helping him with his wine business. Apparently Jared was aware of Jamie’s skills in the area of charming his way through conversations, something I myself was very aware of.

Faith had finally adjusted to her new surroundings. She was crawling everywhere and the spiral staircase that led to the second story of the house gave me nightmares. In just six short weeks, she would be celebrating her first birthday.

She was with Murtagh now, I’m sure getting up to nothing good in the small stable. He spoiled her, as any godfather would. That left me on my own, since Jamie was with Jared down at the docks, accepting a new shipment of casks.

I sat down at the desk in the corner of our room, preparing to write a letter to Jenny and Ian, informing them of the comings and goings of our life here.

At first when we arrived, I hated it. I felt I had no purpose, other than raising Faith and keeping a close eye on her. But one day while I was out with Faith and Murtagh, we walked past L'Hôpital des Anges, and the cries of pain drew me inside.

“Hold still, ma petite, this will hurt only for a little while.” A woman with a very strong French accent said to a patient on a bed, as I stepped into the hospital.

The familiar scent of blood, was eerily welcoming as I took in my surroundings.

I watched from afar as the woman, with the assistance of another physician lanced a wound on the patient. My hands were itching to yield a knife again, touch herbs and medicines.

“How may we help you?” The French woman turned to me after she was finished bandaging the patient.

“I was drawn in from the street and I have some medical skills I thought might be useful here.”

“I am Mother Hildegarde,” she smiled, “Sister Angelique will find you something to do.”

It was as simple as that. I knew in this century how opposed some people were to the idea of women in such positions as I found myself now in. But I was born to be a healer, and since our return to Lallybroch and my pregnancy with Faith, I had pushed aside that desire.

We didn’t know how long we would be staying in Paris, if it was a short visit or if we would be here for years to come. I knew Jamie enjoyed the change of scenery, but he couldn’t stay away from Lallybroch forever.

As I signed and dated the letter to Jenny, I heard a childlike squeal from the foyer; that could only mean that Jamie had returned home.

Moments later, he walked through the door, holding Faith on his hip. She was babbling away, gibberish of course, but he was giving her his full attention until he saw me.

“Sassenach!” He crossed the room, placing a kiss on my forehead. “How was l’hôpital?”

“I set three bones today, so I would call that a rather successful day,” I placed the pen down on the letter, reaching for Faith and taking her onto my lap. “How was your day?”

“Fair enough, ran into a skirmish with a man called Comte St. Germain,” he rolled his eyes, “He sells wine as well, Sassenach, and I’m afraid he’ll prove to be stiff competition.”

Faith bounced happily on my lap, and I looked up at Jamie as he took a seat at the end of the bed sighing. “We can’t keep avoiding it, Jamie.”

He ran his hand through his hair, “Aye, I ken that. Ye told me Prince Charles would be here now, in Paris.”

“I just don’t want you to get caught up in it, I know the outcome of the Jacobite rebellion, as hard as it may be to stand by and let things happen…” Faith made a gurgling noise, and reached for my breasts. I would be glad when she was weaned, eighteenth century clothing was not the most practical for breastfeeding.

“Ye ken I canna just stand by and watch my clan, my people, Sassenach, be slaughtered by the swords of the British.” He rose from the bed, his body trembling with anxiety. We’d gone over and over this subject. I had explained to him as much as I knew about the Jacobite Rebellion and its fateful outcome.

We had come to the conclusion that we were to avoid Prince Charles at all costs, and that Jamie was not to get involved in the rebellion, but I could tell from his posture and attitude how much that decision was weighing on him.

“Ye ken I dinna care about who sits on the throne,” he muttered, facing away from us at the fireplace.

“Yes of course I know that, Jamie.” Faith latched her mouth onto my nipple, and I settled her into my lap. “But you can’t exactly be idle and watch your people die either.”

Jamie slowly turned to me, one arm perched on the mantle, “Aye. It pains me to think of goin’ in to battle. Culloden…” He shivered, at what could only be words I had spoken to him about the battle of Culloden that would happen in less than two years time.

“If it comes down to me fightin’, Sassenach… will ye hate me so if I chose to go?” He closed the space between us, bending to his knees in front of me, his hands resting on me and Faith.

Tears threatened to spill from my eyes as I looked down at him, holding our child to my breast, “I would hate you.” I said softly, “but I will always love you, Jamie. If you feel you must fight, on that damn battlefield… so help me God.” Jamie brushed his thumb across my cheeks, collecting my tears as they fell, and his own eyes watered.

“I love ye, mo cridhe, I only want to protect ye and the bairn… and the many more bairns to come.” He kissed Faith softly on the crown of her forehead, and held us in his arms. I could not stop him from fighting for what he believed in, but I would be damned if I let him get caught up in the politics of it all.

++++++

We had surprisingly made connections during our short time in Paris and had been invited to the King’s Palace for a ball that evening.

I descended the stairs, maneuvering my red dress as I stood on the last step.

“I see were all ready to go.”

Jamie took a step forward, his face full of awe and some other expression I couldn’t quite place.

“Are ye… mad woman? I can see every inch of ye, right down to yer third rib.” His eyes went straight to my chest. It was rather low cut in the front, showing off my cleavage.

“No, you can’t.” I laughed.

He came closer, his eyes never leaving my chest, “Christ. I can see right down to yer navel. Surely ye don’t mean to go out in public like this?”

“I most certainly do.” I held my arms out to the side, “I’ll have you know, I helped design this dress.”

“Christ, Sassenach. First yer honeypot, now this.” He quirked his eyebrow up at me, making me blush. I had made friends with a woman name Louise de La Tour, a most eccentric woman who had suggested I wax my ‘honeypot’ as Jamie called it. When I had come home that evening, Jamie found it odd but not altogether unpleasant and spent the evening feeling and tasting from my honeypot.

“I suppose it’ll have to do.” He joined Murtagh near the front of the house and I took the last few steps. “Ye could cover up a bit.”

“Well I already thought of that,” I pulled out a matching red fan, opening it to cover my breasts.

“Yer goin’ to need a larger fan,” he smirked.

++++++

The ball was just as I had expected, plenty of people trying to impress one another. It came as a surprise to both Jamie and I to see that the Duke of Sandringham was in attendance.

“What are you both doing here in France?” The Duke kissed the back of my hand in welcome.

“Jamie has been employed by his cousin, Jared” I said.

“The wine merchant, what a serendipitous surprise. Tomorrow I go back to England, but when I return I would be very interested to sample some of that rare Belle Rouge port. I must have a case!”

Jamie raised his brow, “How much?”

“I’d be willing to pay twenty percent over the asking price.”

“Sold.” Jamie said.

“Jamie why don’t you take Murtagh to have a drink with our new friend, the minister of finance?”

The Duke of Sandringham always rubbed me the wrong way. As appreciative as I was for him granting Jamie his freedom back, I always sensed that he was playing both sides. I knew from Frank’s research about the Jacobite Rebellion, that the Duke was a known Jacobite supporter, but form my interactions with him, he claimed to know nothing of the sort.

That alone, made me wary of his true intentions when it came to Jamie and just why he granted his freedom.

Before I could speak with him on the matter further, a young man approached him, and immediately burst into a fit of coughing.

“Are you alright, sir?”

“Oh pardon me Madame, it’s chronic I’m afraid.” He sputtered.

“Oh where are my manners,” The Duke said and turned to the man who joined him at his side, “Claire Fraser, may I introduce my new secretary, Alexander Randall.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance Madame,” the young man bowed.

“I think you might know of his brother,” The Duke raised his eyebrows and then my world came to a screeching halt. Randall.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.” I muttered under my breath.

“Do you know Jonathan, Madame Fraser?” Alexander asked me.

My heart was racing, and my thoughts were swirling around all at once. It wasn’t possible was it? He was sentenced to hang over a year ago. Surely we would have heard news of this.

“Your brother is Jonathan Wolverton Randall?” I asked for clarification. Please say no.

“Yes! He’s my older brother,” he stammered.

“I thought he was dead. Hanged for treason, if I’m not wrong.” I stared at him and now I saw the family resemblance.

The Duke piped up, “Oh yes indeed, he was sentenced to be hanged, Mrs. Fraser,” he half frowned, “but he apparently had some friends at the prison who helped him get out of it.”

“I haven’t spoken with him in quite some time, not since his escape.” Jonathan burst into another fit of coughs.

“Didn’t you tell me that he was last seen fleeing to Paris?” The Duke’s voice echoed around the room as my head began to spin.

I bowed my head, “If you two will just excuse me for a moment, I need to find my husband.”

Leaving without a proper farewell, I practically ran into the other room in search for Jamie. Christ almighty… Black Jack was still alive?!

Where the hell was Jamie?

“Ye see minister, I ken yer biased towards the French port, but I think ye’ll be verra surprised wi’ the whisky from Scotland.” Jamie was speaking to a group of men, but I interrupted, grabbing his arm and pulling him off to the side, and out of sight of the crowd.

“Sassenach, I was just about to —“ he stopped, noticing my fear stricken state, “What? What’s the matter, Claire?” His eyes scanned the room around us.

“He’s alive,” I choked out, clutching on to his arms for dear life, “Jamie… Black Jack Randall is still alive!”

His mouth hung open, in shock of the news. “That canna be possible. He was hanged, I ken it. More than a year ago.” Jamie gripped my arms just as tightly for support.

“His brother, Alex, is here with the Duke of Sandringham, he said he escaped with help of soldiers at the prison.” Jamie’s knees wobbled and he brought us both down to the ground, on our knees.

“No.” Was all Jamie repeated for some time before taking my hands in his and meeting my eyes. “He’ll ken we’re here. I’m sure he’ll come for ye… if he still believes ye to be a spy, that is. Christ —“

“He’ll come for you too, Jamie!” I cried, “It’s our statement that sent him to the rope in the first place. Oh my God,” tears spilled over my cheeks at the thought of Jonathan Randall being alive. I had thought we had been rid of that horrible man. He had caused pain to our family and instilled fear into our hearts. With his death, we had been able to find freedom and a peace that we had only just grown accustomed to.

“Wee Faith,” Jamie whispered and my heart almost ceased beating. “We need to get home, Sassenach. Now.” He rose to his feet, helping lift me and my voluminous skirts.

“You don’t think he would harm a child do you?” I asked as we hurried back through the crowd to find Murtagh.

“I ken he is capable of anythin’, Sassenach.” He gritted his teeth and spoke to Murtagh who immediately raced outside to call for our carriage.

“I dinna ken where he is, but if he’s in Paris as the Duke has said… we must prepare for the worst, Claire.” Jamie cupped my cheeks with both his hands.

“Are you going to kill him, Jamie?” I said under my breath.

“Aye, if it comes down to it. I will end that bastard’s life with my bare hands.” Jamie slid his arm around my waist, leading me to the carriage. “He willna take my family away from me, that I ken.”

When we arrived back to Jared’s home, Jamie burst into action, warning the servants of the potential threat. I found it hard to believe that Black Jack would find us at our house, since he hadn’t so far in the short two months we had been here. But Jamie was right, the man was capable of anything. Running up the stairs to our room, I let out a sob I didn’t know I’d been holding when I saw Faith asleep in her cot.

Our precious baby, our miracle. Jamie said he would kill Black Jack with his bare hands if it came down to it. If that man touched a hair on my child’s head… it would be my hands at his throat.

#mctavish and beauchamp #jamie fraser #claire fraser #jamie x claire #outlander fanfic #mclairefras #outlander #duke of sandringham #faith fraser #murtagh #it's about to get wild up in here #bring on the drama #sorry bout it #chapter 13 #unexpected news #red dress

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typicallcrazystonyfangirl · 5 years

Text

Doughnut Friday (AA Stony fanfic)

HEYA. It's Rory here... Welcome to my bad AA Stony one shot with absolutely no plot and boring fluff! Now about the Story. It's basically a random thing I came up with well listing to a song and finished when I was doing my math. So its weird. I've gone back in forth between deleting it completely or deleting parts of it, but I had already done a lot of work on it so I decided not to bother. I'm also running around in it being annoying, just because. Sorry in advance for the whole thing. (This was originally on Quotev) and I suck at spelling, ok?

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"Sir..." Jarvis had said this repoachfully more times then Tony could count, and yes, there was some numbers even a super genius couldnt count to. "For the last time Jarvis, I'm fine." Tony groaned, he was not in the mood, "Sir, I don't believe your current lifestyle is considered remotely fine." Tony sighed and turned away from the computer, and looked at the ceiling. Why he looked at the ceiling, he didn't know, Jarvis did not live there or anything, but it was a habit he couldn't break, "Jarvis, you know I'm busy. Don't keep nagging me about this." "Of course Sir." If AI's could sound miffed Jarvis certainly did sound like that just then. Tony, satisfied (if not a bit guilty for being that cross with Jarvis), he would have no more trouble about this, went back to furiously typing at his computer. He was wrong.

Two hours later he heard someone open the door to his lab behind him. Brilliant. He decided not to shout at the person to get out of the lab, because he didn't know if it was Nat, and yelling at Nat was generally not a good idea. He couldn't look behind him because he was right In the middle of soldering an important piece in his suit and he didn't want to mess it up. Judging by the fact that nothing hadn't been broken yet (That crossed out Thor and Hulk), and the person wasn't shouting vine quotes already (That rulled out Rory and Clint), that left three options, Sam, Nat, or... "Jarvis seemed to think I should try to bring you back to the land of the living." ...Cap. He definitely didn't feel bad for being cross with Jarvis now. He finished he soldering and spinned around in his chair to grumpily face Steve, who was obviously trying not to smile,"Jarvis...Why?" "Your demand for me to stop nagging you did not cover requesting another Avenger to take up my battle." Jarvis said so smuggly that Tony seriously thought about donating him to a college, "Jarvis, how long has Tony been in the lab, and also much sleep has Tony been getting the last week?" Tony now really started to regret being cross with Jarvis again, " Jarvis...Don't Tell him, I'll give you more memory? New Wi-Fi?" Tony bribed, but unfortunately it didn't work. "Mr. Stark has been in the lab the last 48 hours, and has gotten a total of 12 hours of sleep this week, and I have to add only eating a bag of chips occasionally when I threaten to turn the power out. This is all despite my attempts to change his routine Sir." Tony decided not to look at Cap, and decided to turn on Jarvis instead, "Jarvis. Why? What did I do to you?" "Sir, I'm only trying to make sure you don't kill yourself working like this. Now, is the Wi-Fi offer still up?" Jarvis said innocently, "No. Deffiantly not." Tony said angerly. Cap cleared his throat, and Tony looked at him with out thinking, which was a mistake. He was glowering at Tony from the other side of the room with his arms crossed, clearly not amused anymore. Oh boy. "Seriously Tony?" Tony nodded mutely, now looking out the window. He made a mental note to never trust Jarvis ever again. He started when Steve grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the chair. "Um, what are you doing?" Tony complained, "Getting you some food then getting to your room for sleep, dragging you if I have to." Steve said exiting the lab, with Tony trailing resined behind him.

The living room-Kitchen-dining room was chaos as usual. Thor and Hulk were playing fortnight currently being watched with a mix of fear and awe by Sam, Clint was alternating between shouting at them to let him play, or yelling with/at Rory about... Something. Nat would ocaisionly make comments in their conversation, making Rory cackle and Clint wave his arms ferociously. Vast amounts of sunlight poured in from the window. All of this (and probably only getting 2 hours of sleep a week, and ditching last night all together, though he wouldn't admit it) was making him a bit dizzy and very lightheaded. He leaned slightly against the wall and blinked. Steve noticed and frowned worriedly.Tony cursed inwardly, but before he could think of an excuse, Clint noticed them. Which was bad, but of course you probably guessed that. "GUYS. These two have got it all wrong, Leo was CLEARLY meant for Hazel!" " NO HE WASN'T! HE WAS MEANT FOR CALYPSO, AND HAZEL WAS MEANT FOR FRANK. REST YOUR CASE." Rory said passionatly from the couch, and Nat nodded fervently. Tony had no idea what was going on. "Uh..." Tony tried to make any sense out of this, but couldn't. Steve clearly didn't either, and Clint seeing this gave a wail of dispair, " THEY DONT KNOWWWW!" "Which means I get the pickles. Suck up Clint. " Said Rory firmly, and Clint, moaning, handed her the jar. Rory started to eat one before seemingly realizing something. "Tony's out of his Lab." Clint gave a screech of suprise like he hadn't just talked to Tony 30 seconds ago. Nat just rolled her eyes. Steve, also remembering this, and Jarvis's little stunt to get Tony "Into the land of the living" grabbed his arm again and dragged him over to the table, "Stay. I'm going to cook something, if you try to sneak off..." He ended ominously. Tony rolled his eyes but didn't argue. Once Cap started on this track Tony had learned trying to stop it would only make things worse. He sat down at one of the stools embarrassed. The shippers (Clint, Rory, and sometimes Nat's nickname) looked at them strangely, trying to understand the exchange. Nat was the first to speak, "Um..." Steve responded in a way that Tony didn't find neccessary, "Jarvis?" He asked, not taking his eyes off the stove, and Jarvis recaped the other Avengers on Tony's schedule. Even Thor and Hulk looked up from their video game to stare at him. Tony facepalmed. "Guys, chill. It's not like I'm going to pass out or anything. " "Actually Sir, that's a very real pos-" "Shut up Jarvis." Tony said, giving the roof a death glare.

~The next day~

___________________________________________________

" BEEP. BEEP. BEEP." Tony groaned and rolled over, then gave a yelp as he fell off his bed. Ow. "JARVIS. KILL THE ALARM PLEASE." He shouted groggily, "Sorry Sir, but I have been trying for quite awhile now. It's Friday Sir." "What does that have to do with anything?!?! Wait...Oh NO." Tony scrambled up quickly, "What time is it?!?!" He asked nervously, "It's 11:46 am Sir..." Jarvis said. Tony cursed. PLEASE let them have saved one for him...He ran frantically from the room. You see, every Friday they got doughnuts from Krispy Kreme for breakfast to celebrate the "Start of the weekend" as Clint had called it when he had first brought some to the tower( for some reason weekends started on Friday to Clint), and it had become a tradition ever sense. Today was Rory's turn to pick them up, which meant that she decided how the "Rules" worked. Rory's rules were she'd get three boxes, divide them amongst the team, and if you weren't there with in an hour then your portion goes to her. She also got extra to begin with, and you had to be nice to her all week to get any (hard to do). She generaly ran the Monopoly on doughnuts and was unforgiving when it came to the rules. Which was why Tony was running rather crazily down the hallways hoping that she had decided to get the doughnuts two hours later then normal and she had experienced bad traffic on the way back. Unfortunately, only the bad traffic seemed to have came true...As the team appeared to have eaten their doughnuts already. Tony let out a groan of doughnut-deprived despair. "EARLY BIRDS GET THE WORMS!" Said Clint happily, licking his powdered sugar covered hands just to anoy Tony. "Maybe Rory could give you her second one, she still has two-....Where'd she go?" Said Sam in suprise, for the patch of ground where Rory had been standing two seconds ago, was missing a Rory. Tony heard a loud hiss from somewhere high up, and looked to see Rory crouching behind the cereal boxes on top of the fridge, growling like an angry cat. "I'll take that as a no..." Tony said nervously. "NO.ONE.TAKES.MY.DOUGHT" She hissed, retreating farther into the shadows of breakfast food. Everyone backed away slightly. Tony sighed. Now hed have to wait a whole nother week. Just great. This was karma he supposed for living in his lab for a week, the universe had decided to revoke dessert privliges.

Steve spoke and jolted Tony out of his pastery oriented thoughts, " Here." He said handing out half of his plain cake one. Tony looked hesitantly, all to aware of the team watching him (for whatever reason, he didn't know), and also this WAS Steve's doughnut...But it did look good. Steve seemingly knowing what he was thinking, smiled, "Oh come on, I already had three." And Tony took it, "Next time you need...I don't know...Urg I can't think of anything. Well whenever you need a favor, just ask. " Tony said happily, staring at what was now his breakfast. Steve nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching. Tony was about to start to eat it, when he heard a thump and a squack, like someone had fallen out off a fridge. Rory stood up fast, the doughnuts now forgotten at her feet. When he considered the fact that she looked ready to fight to the death over them a miniute ago, he didn't think this was a good sign at all, "Um...Are you ok?" Sam asked nervously, and offered her a hand to help her up, but she waved it off, eyes wild. Oh boy. "Did you just give him half your doughnut?!?!" She asked schreichly at Steve. Tony thought this was kinda obvious as he was holding it, but decided not to say anything. "Uh...Yes?" Steve said confused, and even more confused as Rory let out a very loud and high pitched cackle. "I KNEW IT. CLINT, NAT, WITH ME NOW. WERE WRITING A FAN FIC!!" And they all ran off into the depths of the tower laughing crazily, leaving the remaining Avengers unsure on how to react in the kitchen. Sam was the first to speak, "You do know what their doing, right?" He asked Tony and Steve, they shook their heads. "No...What? Is it bad?" Tony asked, wondering if doughnuts were worth this, it was clearly looking like they weren't. "Very." Said Sam gravely, "I even helped them once. Id take that doughnut, grab a jet, and leave the country. Or at least before they post it..." "Post what?"

___________________________________________________

~Well. Sorry for putting you poor readers through that. That's the only part I feel guilty about, my horrible writing skills. As for shipping Stony, I will NEVER-EVER fell bad for that. :)

Ps. It's Clint's turn to pick up the doughnuts this week, and he added a new rule. Ship Stony or no doughnuts. Deal with it.

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queenofcats17 · 6 years

Text

Chaos

So I saw this post from @islandguardiantapumeme , and I knew I had to write it.

Then I saw @blastmecaptcha wrote something and it was so good. So now I really want to write it.

Edit: Now has a longer fic.

Henry let out a sigh of relief as the ink machine gave a last screech, something akin to the scream of a dying animal, and was finally still. He’d done it. The ink machine was no more. Whatever strange magic it had possessed was gone. Now he just needed to get back upstairs and get out. He started to make his way up the stairs, dragging his ax behind him. As he reached Level P, he saw someone stumble out of the room to the left. It was a man wearing a driving cap. He was rather disheveled and Henry didn’t recognize him.

“Who the Hell are you?” The man asked, taking a step towards him. He sounded Irish. Henry didn’t know any Irishmen. For a moment, Henry froze. This could be real, or it could just be a hallucination. He had been breathing in a lot of ink fumes. As the man drew closer, Henry screamed and darted into the Little Miracle Station to his right, slamming the door shut. There had to be a lock on this thing.

“Hey! Come out! I asked you a question!” The man banged on the door to the station. Henry hunched down, hugging his knees. Maybe if he just stayed there, the man would go away. Unfortunately, the man didn’t seem to be going anywhere. The worst part? More people seemed to be gathering outside the box.

“What’s going on?” Someone else asked.

“I got no fucking clue.” The Irish man said. “I asked this bloke who he was and he ran in here.”

“Sir? Are you alright?” Someone else knocked on the box.

“Go away!” Henry pressed himself against the back of the station.

“Sir, we’re just trying to help you.” The person who knocked said. He had a sort of droll, monotonous voice. “My name is Grant Cohen. Would you mind telling us your name?” Grant Cohen? That was the studio accountant. But...it couldn’t be.

“Why’re you givin’ your name out?!” The Irish man yelled. “We don’t know him!”

“Mr. Flynn, please don’t yell,” Grant said. “You’ll startle him.” Henry started to sob quietly. This had to be a dream. He had to be hallucinating.

Joey was stuck. He’d been crawling through the vents, trying to find out where exactly Henry was, when he’d felt the magic of the ink machine fade. Suddenly, he was human again. He was considerably thinner than he’d been prior to becoming the ink demon, which made things easier for shimmying through the vents, but now his clothes were dragging him down. Given that he was much thinner now, his clothing was hanging off his frame, snagging on the edges and getting stuck. He huffed as he tried to drag himself through the vents. He was human again, so that was a plus, but on the other hand, it did mean that Henry had destroyed the machine and the other studio employees were human as well. They probably wouldn’t remember what he’d done to them, but just to be safe he knew he should probably get out and get as far away from the studio as possible. This was going to take some work, though.

Suse was woken up by the sound of fighting.

“Franks, spit it out.”

“No.”

“Wally, please, it’s unhygienic.”

“It’s mine and I love it.”

Susie sat up, looking around blearily. She was sitting in the middle area of the haunted house ride with a samurai sword at her side. A few feet away, Allison and Thomas were desperately trying to get Wally to spit out a...bone?

“Is that...a human bone?” Susie asked, blinking. Everyone turned to look at her.

“Hi, Miss Campbell.” Allison smiled nervously. “How...How’s it going?”

“My chest kind of hurts, but I think I’m alright.” Susie returned the expression wearily. She should have treated Allison better. The girl really wasn’t that bad. She shouldn’t have been so cruel to Allison. Girls had to stick together.

“Are you still...mad at me?” Allison asked, wandering over to where Susie was laying down. “I really am sorry about taking your role. I didn’t mean to-”

“Sweetie, it’s alright.” Susie pulled her into a hug. “If anything, I should be the one apologizing. It wasn’t your fault Joey gave you the role. I shouldn’t have taken things as far as I did.” She didn’t remember everything she’d done to Allison, but she knew she’d been a bitch. “I’m so sorry, Allison.”

“You...You really mean it?” Allison’s whole face lit up.

“I do.” Susie nodded, pulling away. “I’ve been terrible to you.”

“You have n-no idea how much this means to me.” Allison started to sniffle. “I always admired you, Miss Campbell. I just wanted your approval.”

“Oh, Allison.” Susie smiled softly.

“No way.” Wally’s mouth hung open and the bone dropped to the ground. Thomas scooped it up and stuck it into his pocket.

“No, wait, give that back!” Wally whined, looking towards Thomas. “It was good!”

“You don’t know where it’s been,” Thomas said.

“So, um, how did we get here?” Susie let Allison help her up. “I don’t remember coming down here.”

“I don’t remember losing my arm, but here we are.” Thomas held up his left arm, revealing it was now replaced by an animatronic arm.

“Does it hurt?” Susie asked.

“Nah.” Thomas shrugged slightly. Wally was trying to get the bone out of the other man’s pocket, but Thomas swatted his hand away. Wally legitimately made a doglike whimpering sound. They could almost see his ears drooping. Allison couldn’t help but giggle. Susie joined in.

“Let’s get out of here, alright?” She suggested. “Maybe someone else knows what’s going on.”

“Sure, why not?” Thomas headed for the door, which had a hole in it the size of a bumper car. As Susie looked around, the destruction was plain. It looked like some kind of fight had taken place there. Allison latched herself onto Susie’s arm, delighted that the two of them had made up. Wally followed behind Thomas, trying to get at the bone in Thomas’ pocket. Eventually, the other mechanic just gave up and handed it over, allowing Wally to keep gnawing on it. As they made their way out into the main warehouse, they found Lacie Benton walking out as well.

“Benton, nice to see you.” Thomas smiled slightly and held out his hand.

“Thomas Connor. How are you doing, you bastard?” Lacie chuckled and took his hand, shaking it vigorously.

“Hi, Lacie,” Wally said through his bone.

“Hello, Franks.” Lacie nodded in his direction. “What’s with the bone?”

“Dunno. Woke up with it. It tastes good!”

“That’s nice.” Lacie sighed.

“What are you doing?” Allison asked.

“Piedmont got stuck in his precious machine,” Lacie replied. “Wants me to get him out. Figure I’ll let him stew for a little bit before I actually get him out.”

“Ugh, Piedmont.” The group collectively said together. No one was particularly fond of Bertrum. He was just a real prick in general. A few more people were coming out of the various rooms that led off of the warehouse. They waved to the small group and continued on. The group waved back before saying goodbye to Lacie and heading out. Despite Thomas’ objections, they were headed for the elevator. Unfortunately, they soon found that that wouldn’t be an option.

“Well, if we want to get out we should probably take the stairs,” Wally said, staring at the wreck of the elevator.

“Always knew this thing would crash someday,” Thomas muttered.

“At least I’m not wearing heels.” Allison and Susie said together. They giggled at the jinx. Thomas couldn’t help but smile a little at this. Wally was already starting up the stairs. It was going to be a long way up.

Bertrum didn’t know why he’d woken up in the central column of his carousel and he didn’t particularly care. All he wanted was to get out. It was cramped and dark and his arms were starting to hurt. He’d managed to convince that Benton woman to help him, but she’d left quite a while ago. He was starting to think she wasn’t coming back. There was probably a reason she wasn’t too eager to help him. Maybe he’d been a bit too cruel to them. He sighed and tried to wriggle around a little. He didn’t like being cooped up like this. All he could do was sit here and wait for Lacie to come help him. He hated depending on people like this.

Norman had been surprised that the first thing he heard upon coming back to the waking world was yelling. Specifically, the sound of Shawn Flynn and Grant Cohen arguing. He got up from what appeared to be an operating table and headed out. He had to go down a flight of stairs, but once he did he found a small group of people gathered outside a box. Shawn and Grant were standing in front of the box, yelling at one another.

“What’s going on here?” Norman asked, pushing through the crowd.

“Shawn saw someone run into this box and we’re trying to figure out how to get him out,” Grant explained.

“He took one look at me and bolted!” Shawn said. “I don’t look that bad, do I?”

“You look fine,” Norman assured him vaguely. He went over to the box and peered inside. It was too dark for him to see the person inside, but he could make out a shock of white hair.

“Hello? Are you alright?” Norman asked. The man inside started to cry as soon as he laid eyes on Norman.

“What the....?” Norman took a step back.

“Great, now he’s crying,” Shawn said. “We’re never going to get him out!”

“Mr. Flynn, please calm down.”

Sammy was awoken by the gentle sound of whispering. As soon as he opened his eyes, though, the whispering stopped. It looked like he was in the recording booth. How had he ended up there? He sat up and immediately screamed. Why wasn’t he wearing a shirt?! He quickly got up and got a good look at who had been whispering. The members of the band, all equally drenched in ink, had been watching him through the glass of the window. They were now trying desperately to pretend they hadn’t been watching him.

“Which one of you bastards took my shirt?!” He demanded, storming out of the recording booth and making his way over to the band room.

“None of us, sir.” The banjo player, Drake, said. “We all woke up like this.”

“But why am I not wearing a shirt?!”

“We don’t know.” The piano player shrugged.

“But we’re really enjoying the view.” The cello player giggled. Sammy went bright red and tried to cover his chest.

“Sammy? That you?” Jack Fain stuck his head into the band room. “Where’s your shirt?”

“I DON’T KNOW, OKAY?!” Sammy snapped. “I AM VERY UNCOMFORTABLE RIGHT NOW!”

“Mm.” Jack walked in, looking Sammy over. “I never knew you were this...You know.”

“None of us did.”

“I’m getting out of here,” Sammy muttered, bright red, and stormed out of the music department.

“I’ll come with you!” Jack ran after him. “I’m sorry, Sammy! I didn’t mean to upset you!”

When Allison, Susie, Thomas, and Wally finally made their way to level P, the crowd around the box had almost filled the entire floor.

“What’s going on here?” Wally frowned, chewing on his bone.

“Mr. Cohen! Mr. Polk!” Allison pushed her way through the crowd. “What’s going on?”

“Some guy shut himself up in the box and we’re trying to get him out,” Norman said.

“Oh dear.” Allison tried to peek into the box. “Sir? Are you alright?”

“‘M fine.” The man inside muttered.

“That voice sounds familiar.” Susie frowned as she drew closer. “Where have I heard it before?” As soon as she stepped into sight, the man in the box let out an ear-piercing shriek.

“Guess he doesn’t like you,” Shawn said.

“Yeah, I can understand that.” Susie drew into herself. Allison latched herelf to Susie’s side, trying to assure her that everything was going to be okay. Thomas just sort of stood there, hands in his pockets. He wasn’t too terribly interested in the strange man in the box.

“D’ya think he wants a bone?” Wally asked, sticking the bone through the slat in the box.

“Boris?” The man asked in a small voice.

“No. Wally.”

“Boris, you’re alright.” Blue eyes appeared in the slat, pushing the bone away.

“I just told you, my name’s Wally,” Wally said, taking a step back.

“I-I’m so glad you’re n-not dead.” The man was starting to cry again, reaching a hand out to touch Wally’s face.

“Yeah, uh, me too.” Wally nodded slowly. “Being dead is, uh, real great.” Suddenly, a vent cover rocketed across the room, and a bedraggled Joey Drew climbed out. He was considerably thinner than he’d been the last time anyone had seen him, but it was definitely him.

“Fuck.” Joey looked around at everyone in the room.

“Hi, Mr. Drew.” The employees said together.

“What were you doing in the vents, Mr. Drew?” Grant asked, walking over. “Also, I have some serious concerns about our expense reports.” Just then the door to the box burst open and a blue blur passed across the room. The man from the box grabbed Joey by his lapels and hoisted him into the air.

“JOEY!”

“Oh! It’s Henry!” Susie said, clapping her hands together. “He looks much older, though.”

“Henry? The co-founder of the studio?” Allison’s eyes widened. “Whoa. I never thought I’d meet him in person.”

“Should we get him offa Joey?” Wally asked.

“Let him get his aggression out.” Grant and Thomas stopped him. Well, Grant stopped him. Thomas was holding Grant and Shawn’s hands and refusing to let them go.

#bendy and the ink machine #fanfiction #henry #shawn flynn #grant cohen #joey drew #susie campbell #wally franks #allison pendle #thomas connor #lacie benton #bertrum piedmont #norman polk #sammy lawrence #jack fain

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quagmireisadora · 7 years

Text

[Minjung / Kibum] 보조개

A/N: Part 2 of 4. Inspired by this lovely fic here. My thanks to @lockandminkey for letting me use their idea <3

------

The last time they make love, Kibum is gentle.

He is always gentle, but that morning he is gentler. His hands are softer, his kisses sweeter, his eyes warmer. He holds Minjung, pressing his fingertips in the camber of her back. With every slow push, he stamps his lips on the curve of her neck, on the stretch of her throat, under the round of her chin. His hips coil and uncoil slowly, pausing a moment whenever he hears her breath hitch.

Minjung holds him close, clawing at the small of his back, at the hairs on his neck. Her tears steam on her cheeks, her sighs steam on his. She turns to face him, her nose against his temple, her stomach rising to meet his. Kibum raises himself on an elbow to look her in the eyes and runs a hand though her damp scalp. He smiles down at her. She closes her eyes from him. He stops his movements for a minute and she frowns in response. He gives her a sweaty chuckle, closing in and kissing her. She breathes out a happy exhale and wraps her hands around his broad shoulders, a quiet moan mixing in her breath. He moans back in response and moves again, her gasp pulling her out of the kiss. He ropes her in one more time, tilting his head and scooping her into it. He holds the side of her face, she claws at him again. From there, they easily float to where their bodies take them.

In the end, he rubs his nose against hers, the way he always does. “I should get ready,” he adds this time and makes to leave the cocoon of their warm and damp blankets.

She grabs his arm and pulls him back, surprising him with her strength. “Stay,” she orders. “Five more minutes,” she adds softly. “...please?”

He relents, rolling back into her hold, burying his face in her breast. “How do you feel?” comes his muffled question. She giggles because it tickles her. Her long fingers stroke his hair, pushing it off his forehead when he looks up at her.

“Warm,” she smiles. He kisses the center of her chest. “Hmm, nice...” she adds. He looks at her again with a grin this time, dimple flashing. She takes in the sight of him and sighs. “Sad,” she ends.

His grin dissolves into a serious expression. He squeezes his arms around her waist. She hugs his face to her again like she will never let him go.

“This house is going to be so quiet without you,” she says.

“I’ll call when I can,” he insists.

“Won’t be the same,” she shakes her head. And after a while they shake with giggles. She thinks of the times he has chased her around the kitchen island with a lobster, thinks of the times he has rented a horror movie and screeched at the jump scares with her. She thinks of his booming laugh and his favorite music; she reminisces the days spent splashing water at each other on the beach, the nights they act like children and toss pillow at each other. She thinks of his snoring and his groaning and his sighing and his whining. She thinks of him like he is already gone, and she has to look down to confirm if he’s still with her.

When he goes in for a shower she irons his clothes for him. She runs her hands on the fabric, fingers the metal buttons and the coarse patches. The first time she saw him wearing his uniform he was regal in it. His aviator glasses hid his eyes but the dimple was telling of the soft smile waiting for her. He was curt, but gallant. He was quiet, but chivalrous. He was frank, but courteous. The first time she saw him take the uniform off, she’d seen another Kibum. A silly Kibum. A Kibum who guffawed at stupid jokes, and teased her with mischievous grins, and made fun of his friends.

When he comes out in a towel, drying his hair, she is smiling with her raft of memories floating in an ocean of love. “Oh, sorry--” he says, taking his shirt from her. “I meant to do that last night.”

Minjung shakes her head to signal that it’s nothing. “I’ll get your boots and bag ready, shall I?”

He hums his thanks as he pulls his pants up. “I’ll make us some tea,” he offers. She calls out her gratitude from the living room.

Several minutes later, they hold hands at the dining table as they sip from their cups. “Where are you going this time,” she asks what she always asks at times like this.

“I can’t tell you,” he easily responds as usual. They are both satisfied with the exchange, and they say no more. She does not persist, does not get emotional about it, does not guilt him with utterances like I don’t want to find out from your staff sergeant. In return he does nothing but gaze into her eyes and study her face and run his fingers over her forearm.

After a last-minute check of his belongings, they go outside and wait in the front yard.

The weather is warm, but just on the cusp of getting warmer. It will be a dry summer, and the children from their neighborhood will start playing football in the nearby park again. Some of them will come asking after Kibum, who often sprays them with the garden hose or fixes their bicycle chains, or lends their troubles a sympathetic ear. She will be there for them in his stead, then. She will spend her hours listening to them and imagine it was him she is giving all that time to.

The weather is warm, and she will have to mow the lawn without him. But she’ll pretend he is creeping up behind her as usual, about to pounce on her and give her a fright.

The weather is warm, and they will be missing their yearly trip to Daegu to see his halmoni. She will write a littler from the both of them, sending it with mandu she will make in her own kitchen.

The weather is warm, and if Kibum were here they’d go to the pool every weekend, racing each other. She will go alone now, but she will think back to all the times she beat him and he grumbled about it.

And every time he calls home she will tell him all about it over the bad connection.

The jeep arrives at 8 am sharp. The driver gets off and jogs around the front towards them. He shoots a stiff salute and states his name, his rank, declares that he is reporting for his duty, sir. Kibum salutes back with just as much vigor, and then looks at his wife. “Give us a minute, would you?” he requests of his subordinate. The man relieves him of his bag and obeys, rushing away.

“I’m off,” is all Lieutenant Kim Kibum says in the end. He has always been stupid with words, worse with goodbyes. But Minjung recognizes sentences, paragraphs, whole essays in his gaze, and she is more than willing to translate them to herself for her relief. She hugs him, lets him rock them a little, lets him kiss her forehead for a long minute, lets him draw back and run his thumbs on her cheeks. Lets him whisper a soft but cheeky I’ll be back for you, Choi Minjung. Then he is gone.

The last time they make love, the last time she buries her face in his shoulder, the last time she waves after his disappearing back, the last time he is home and happy and safe, she believes him.

So she waits.

#minkey #het!#drabble #shinee

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mirkwoodshewolf · 7 years

Text

Thunderbird rescue; Newt Scamander x reader

This all came to me last night and I was just DYING to write it and I finished the last bit of it just this morning. I always kinda imagined ‘How did Newt really save Frank’ and this kinda was born, plus Frank is literally my all time FAV. creature, the first time I saw him in the theaters I was just in AWE of him. So while dedicated to Newt I also wanted to show my love of Frank as well.

Warnings: INTENSE FLUFF!!! traffickers (PUT A STOP TO THEM BOTH HUMAN AND ANIMALS), near death, and Mother Hen!Newt Scamander (does that even count? Oh well here I’m counting it XD)

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It all started on a simple trip to Egypt. I along with my lifelong friend and fellow Hogwarts student Newt Scamander were told by the Ministry to go there just to scope out any illegal actions or suspicious characters wanting to expose the wizarding community, but what we didn’t expect was for the adventure of a lifetime to happen.

One late afternoon, Newt and I were just passing through the small market place taking in all the sights of Egypt. Marketers were selling anything they could get their hands on from foods from exotic lands to valuable treasure.

“Would the lady like a necklace? My dear boy buy a pretty necklace for a pretty lady”. A jewelry salesman said to Newt and I as he held up a beautiful golden necklace with a beautiful ruby gem at the center.

“Should I?” asked Newt.

“It’s up to you, you know me I’ve never been a big jewelry fanatic, but it is a beautiful necklace”.

“Alright then, I’ll take it”. He then paid the man five gold pieces and the jeweler handed Newt the necklace. He then turned to me and said as he held out the beautiful necklace, “May I?”

“Of course good sir,” I said as I turned around and Newt hooked the necklace around my neck. I turned back to face him and asked him, “How’s it look?” Newt just stared at me and he muttered,

“Wonderful”. I smiled bashfully and said.

“Well come on let’s go, more people could be coming and we wouldn’t want to block them”. I then walked on as Newt followed behind me. As the day went on, there was nothing suspicious going on nor were there any strange creatures wanting to cause havoc, that is until we saw three gentlemen walk into an alleyway.

“(Y/n), did you see that just now?”

“Yes I did, let’s go”. We then followed behind the three men without being detected.

We followed them out of the city and far out into the desert and it was then did the three apparated.

“They’re wizards!” I exclaimed.

“Come on we can’t lose them”. We then apparated as well and trailed behind them.We soon found them at an isolated campsite, we stayed above a rocky hill slope that looked downward towards the campsite.

“I think we may have found our suspicious characters” I whispered.

“We might have, and did you catch the brands on those three men when we were following them back at the village?” Newt asked me.

“Yeah I did, why?”

“I know that brand, they’re traffickers”. My eyes widened and I looked down into the campsite.

“By Helga’s ghost, I pray they haven’t trafficked a child wizard like the last ones did”.

“I don’t think they’re those types of traffickers, in fact they may be worse”. It was then Newt and I were horrified to see more traffickers come out with a large cage containing something inside, a very beautiful creature.

“Merlin’s Beard” muttered Newt.

“Isn’t that a—”

“A Thunderbird”.

“Oh the poor thing, kept like that in such a small cage”. Newt then got up and began walking down the hill. “What the—Newt? Newt! Come back here! Newt they’ll see you. Oh you bloody—” I whispered yelled at him but Newt wouldn’t listen.

I love that man but I swear one of these days his recklessness is going to get himself hurt if not killed. Wait a second, did I just say love? No, no, no. No time for that (Y/n) you’ve gotta help your friend not get himself killed by those traffickers. I then got up from my spot and quietly and carefully walked towards Newt.

We stayed low and kept hidden from sight by hiding behind any nearby boulder that could be found. As we carefully got closer we then began to hear the men talk.

“This beast will sell us a pretty price”. One man spoke with an Eastern European accent.

“Indeed, much better than that Erumpent horn we sold last month, eh Strasser?” said another man with an Australian accent.

“All I care about is that we don’t get caught by any of the Ministries and we’re payed full price for this creature” a Swahili man stated. We then heard the sounds of the Thunderbird trying to get out screeching and cawing out in pain. Suddenly a loud bang to the cage and the Swahili man exclaimed. “Shut up! Bloody thing keeps squawking like that it’ll give us away. Let’s just kill it and be done with it!”

“No! We need it alive, no one touches the Thunderbird until we sell it. We leave first light” the ring leader with the Eastern European accent stated. Newt and I looked at each other then we heard absolute silence as the men probably went back into their tents to rest up since it was starting to get dark.

“We’ve got to free this creature and get as far away from here as we can before sunrise” said Newt.

“But how? This is a Thunderbird Newt, it’ll start raising the alarms as soon as we get close to it, and who knows how many more men there really are”.

“That’s why I’ll take care of them while you get him free”.

“No Newt I won’t let you take on all those wizards by yourself”.

“There’s no time for debating (y/n), please darling the Thunderbird needs our help, and we haven’t got much time”. Newt looked at me with those big puppy dog eyes of his that shined with so much love and passion for wanting to free this beautiful creature. I sighed heavily and said.

“Just promise me you’ll try to stay safe if worse comes to worse”.

“I promise”. He held out his pinkie and I smiled at him and wrapped my pinkie around his as we made our pact.

Newt then peeked over the rock first and slowly walked forward to look overhead towards the campsite then he turned towards me and gestured with his hands for me to come out. I cautiously followed behind him and we were soon right up to the Thunderbird’s cage.

Upon closer inspection, this beautiful creature was in worse shape than we thought. He was all chained up to make sure he couldn’t even flap his wings, his left leg was bleeding some the ankle chains he bore on him. We could also hear him breathing heavily but it sounded like someone breathing with smoke in their lungs. That raspy, wheezing sound that almost makes your heart break.

He suddenly opened his eyes and began squirming as he screeched out like I had feared. Newt shushed him gently as he whispered.

“Shhh, calm down, calm down. We’re not going to hurt you”.

“There’s a good boy, it’ll be okay” I assured him as well as I slowly reached my hand in the cage and touched its neck and stroked it as he began to calm down.

I had only read stories about Thunderbirds but never seen one this close before, and now seeing him even in this condition he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I couldn’t help myself but smile as a tear fell down my face as I softly giggled.

Newt then took out his wand but then suddenly that caused the Thunderbird to suddenly flip out and struggle even harder.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! We’re here to help you! Easy, easy”. Newt tried to assure the Great Albatross. “Alohamora” he said to the main cage. After a few clicks and turns the cage suddenly collapsed onto the ground leaving only the chains.

“You two!” Newt and I turned around and saw the poachers all standing with their wands at attention. Newt shielded me and then fired a spell at them.

“Stupefy!” His shot hit one of the men down to the ground but the Swahili man fired a spell at Newt knocking him down to the ground. I apparated out of sight and Newt proceeded to the plan.

He kept the poachers distracted while I tried my luck at these chains as I apparated back beside the Thunderbird.

“Easy boy, I’m gonna free you okay but you have to keep still for me”. I then took out my wand but it was suddenly knocked down across the sand. I looked up to see an old man with a grizzly black and white beard, cold, heartless eyes staring back at me and he sent another spell towards me, this time it had lightning strikes involved.

I groaned in pain as I tried to go towards my wand but before I could reach it, the man stepped on my hand making me cry out in pain.

“You know you have such a pretty face, you could worth more than that useless beast”. The man had the Eastern European accent we had heard and judging by how he carried himself he was probably the leader Strasser.

“Useless? Useless? Go to hell you sick bastard!” I sneered.

“What a shame, witches like you never make it past their prime when involved with such jobs”. He then said a Crucio spell which made me scream out in agony.

“(Y/n)!” I heard Newt cry out but as I saw him run towards me, two of the poachers bounded Newt and forced him to his knees. After a few more Crucio spells, I could barely even move as the leader grabbed me by the back of my neck and dragged me to the cliff’s edge.

“No! No please don’t do this. You can do this to her! Don’t do this to her! Take me instead! I’m the leader of this rescue punish me!” Newt screamed out but the leader didn’t listen to his pleas.

“Your friend is either very brave or very stupid to involve a woman like you into this. There could be compromise if you agree to come with us”. I only looked at the man with cold eyes then with whatever strength I could, I spat in his face. He narrowed his eyes then without a second thought, he let go of me and pushed me off the cliff.

*3rd POV*

As (y/n)’s scream echoed through the desert, Newt cried out her name and then something happened that the poachers did not expect. They soon chains being broken and a proud screech pierced the air, the Thunderbird was free.He flew down the gorge cawing out and soon he appeared underneath (y/n) and soon she fell onto his back and once he felt she was on him, he flew high towards the sky.

*1st POV*

I couldn’t believe this. This was how I was going to die, oh Merlin’s beard if only I had gotten to tell Newt how I felt about him before I….Wait isn’t that…. Suddenly I felt feathers against my face and I gripped tightly and when my brain finally caught onto what was happening, I realized I was on top of—no scratch that, I was riding on top of the Thunderbird.

I was riding a Thunderbird!

We soon flew over the poachers and Newt as the Thunderbird proudly let out its cries. He then dove down and grabbed the man who had pushed me with his talons and judging by the sounds of his screams of agony, I can tell he wasn’t holding him gently. The Thunderbird soon let the man go and he plummeted to his death.

The Thunderbird circled back around and by ones or twos by both talon and beak, he picked up every single poacher and trafficker and tossed them over the gorge until they were all gone.

He then circled back and went for Newt. He grabbed him by his talons and I heard Newt exclaim frighteningly as he was taken over the gorge and released but before I could even urge the Thunderbird on, he already read my mind and swooped underneath him and soon Newt was riding behind me on top of the Thunderbird’s back.

Newt and I looked embraced each other as the Thunderbird let out a powerful screech and then he turned around and we flew away from the campsite.

The Thunderbird flew us higher and higher until we broke through the clouds. Newt and I just couldn’t stop smiling as we were actually riding this magnificent creature. Newt leaned over to the side till he met with the Thunderbird’s eye and as he blinked at Newt, he smiled and I couldn’t help myself but say.

“Higher!” As if understanding my wish, the Thunderbird flew higher into the sky and did a flip which caused me to fly off his back but he then caught me with his talons.

“(Y/n)! Are you alright?” I heard the concern in Newt’s voice and I told him.

“You gotta try this Newt!” I proclaimed. The Thunderbird continued to fly until we came out of a cloud break and when I looked down I could see the entire desert plus the Nile all at once. Usually I would be scared being up this high, but since I was flying with not only Newt but with a Thunderbird, I didn’t give a damn.

We soon dove down towards the river and just as we reached it, I was soon on the water but the Thunderbird gave me enough elevation to actually ski on it. I let out a happy giggles and I saw Newt peek out from the side of the Thunderbird as he said.

“You enjoying this love?”

“Am I ever!?” As I was swayed side to side for a brief moment, suddenly we came up to a low tree with muggle birds all swarming around it. The Thunderbird released me as I skidded underneath the tree and as the birds swarmed around me, I suddenly began to lose control and I knew I would soon go under the water, that is if I didn’t feel something push against my back.

“We got you love!” I felt the Thunderbird’s beak right at the center of my back. I soon looked ahead and took notice of a waterfall edge coming up.

“Full speed ahead, I’ve always wanted to try this!” I then extended my arms out like wings and I felt the speed being picked up as I skied across the water.

Then on time as the birds flew over the waterfall, I struck out a flying poise and was soon back on top of the Thunderbird’s back and Newt standing right behind me holding me balanced as the Thunderbird let out another proud call.

Soon our little flying fest had to end, as we came up on a mountain side just a mile before you reached our campsite, the Thunderbird landed letting out a couple of screeches before finally landing full on the ground. Newt first slid off his back then turned and helped me off.

“You alright?” he asked me.

“That was—wow”. Suddenly a wing surrounded the both of us as the Thunderbird looked at us with his piercing golden eyes. He let out a soft purr as he eyed us first before turning his head completely upside down. Newt and I copied him as best we could, the Thunderbird blinked and tilted his head at us before turning around with his head still upside down, as Newt and I tried to do the same, I let out a yelp as I fell to the ground.

“Oh (y/n), you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine, guess I’m not Thunderbird material” I let out a bashful giggle. The Thunderbird kept eyeing us. Newt then walked up to this magnificent creature and said as he gently stroked his head.

“We are so glad you came through to rescue us just as we were only meant to rescue you. I will be forever grateful how you saved my friend. She means….well she means everything to me” he stated the end of his statement bashfully. Could he—feel the same way?

“He’s right, if you hadn’t gotten free of your chains I would’ve—well I obviously wouldn’t even be here. Thank you for saving my life”. I held out my hand and stroked underneath his beak. The Thunderbird softly cooed as it nuzzled both Newt and I gratefully.

“For saving us, we’ll do you one even better. We’ll get you back to where you belong, won’t we (Y/n)?”

“Absolutely, you deserve to be back home where you belong big guy” I said as I continued to stroke the soft, shimmering feathers of this beautiful creature.

“I’ll only be just a few ticks love, mind watching him for a moment?”

“Of course”. Newt then apparated leaving me and the Thunderbird alone. I turned to him and said, “Don’t you worry now, where we’ll be putting you for the time being will be far better than that horrible cage, you’ll be able to fly, you’ll be fed three meals a day, and you’ll be kept out of sight until we get you home. Because when Newt makes a promise, he never breaks it”.

I then began to think back on my feelings for him. We’ve been friends since well since the day we met on the Hogwarts express. We did practically everything together, we were even bullied together but we always had each other, then the day came of his expulsion. I was devastated and heartbroken because that was also the day I was going to admit my feelings for him.

Yeah I know I’ve been in denial but I can’t ignore it any longer, especially after what had just happened. As if sensing my distress, the Thunderbird softly cooed and nuzzled into my chest. I smiled and said.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…..I almost lost the chance of telling the man I love how I really felt about him. Newt means everything to me, he’s been my best friend since forever and I never wanted to ruin that friendship so I tried to suppress my feelings for him, but after almost losing my life today I….I want to tell him how I feel but I—”

“I’m back so sorry it took so long, I also took the liberty of finding this,” Newt then held out my wand and I stared at it in awe.

“Newt you—you found my wand, thank you”.

“It was no problem, so is he ready?” We looked to the Thunderbird who looked at us and I said.

“I think he is”. Newt then set down his case and opened it up and said to him.

“In you hop”. The Thunderbird took flight before diving down straight into the case then Newt held out his hand and said, “Lady’s first”. I curtsied and stated obnoxiously,

“Why thank you kind sir” making Newt and I laugh softly before I descended down the staircase with Newt following right behind me.

Once we entered the case, we had entered a whole new world of enchantment. Various habitats surrounded the entire place and creatures big and small could be either seen or heard from just one area. We turned just a short ways from the shed to the desert habitat with a tall rocky perch and saw how happy our Thunderbird was.

“I think he’s going to be okay”. I said as I watched him as the sun shined brighter than ever before in his habitat.

“Indeed (y/n), soon we’ll put him back where he belongs, to the wilds of Arizona”. I turned to Newt and saw through his eyes of how proud he was seeing this creature free from a cage, like a parent sending their child off to school. You know with the way Newt cares about his creatures, he’d make a pretty great dad one day. “(Y/n) I—”

“Newt I was….” We both said at the same time as he turned to me. We stopped and bashfully chuckled at each other.

“You first” said Newt.

“No, no you started talking first before I interrupted, go on”.

“Okay, (y/n) I’ve…..When I saw you up against that cliff, and I saw that man push you off, I thought for sure I had lost you forever. I never want that to happen again, especially after not telling you how I have really felt about you. From—from the first time I saw you on the train on our way to Hogwarts for the first time I….I thought I was looking at an angel instead of a witch, and….well now I’ve probably ruined our friendship right about now but I’ve always loved—”

Oh this sweet, sweet man. I interrupted him with a kiss and after a second, Newt wrapped his arms around my waist as I wrapped mine around his neck bringing him closer. Soon the need for oxygen became necessary as we separated but kept each other at arm’s length.

“Oh Newt, I’ve felt the same way about you for so long. At first I thought it just hormones or something but as time grew on I knew it was more than that. In fact on the day of your….well that day I was going to confess my feelings for you but I lost it. Then I met you again just two years ago and those feelings came back but stronger than ever before. And after today I just—I just can’t believe I almost lost my life without having told you my true feelings, I could have never passed on had I…..”

“Shhh, don’t think about that anymore my darling. You’re safe, you’re alive, and you’re here with me. I love you so much (y/n) (m/n) (l/n)”.

“I love you more Newton Artemis Fido Scamander”.

“Quite frankly my dear, that’s not even possible”. We both smiled and chuckled before he brought me in for another kiss. Suddenly it hit me.

“Wait that’s it!”

“What’s it my love?”

“His name. You’ve just given me an idea for our newest creature’s name. Frank”.

“Frank the Thunderbird? Yeah, yeah I like it, I love it in fact! What do you think Frank?” Frank who was now on the flat rock ledge in front of us tilted his head a few times chirping before letting out a powerful caw.

“I think he likes it”.

“Yeah, don’t you worry Frank, once you’re all better we’ll bring you back home, that’s a promise”. Newt told Frank as he stroked his head softly as he flapped his wings softly. “Come on love, we best head back upstairs and leave Egypt as soon as we can”. As I turned to follow Newt, I suddenly felt something fall on top of my head.

I reached up and felt something soft and thin. I removed it from my hair to see it was a feather, a Thunderbird feather to be exact. I turned to Frank and saw him up on the tall rock perch looking down at me and I could swear he was smiling at me for how proud he was at seeing me and Newt finally admitting our feelings to each other.

“Thank you Frank, I’ll treasure your gift forever”. I then turned around and walked away and climbed up the stairs and exit the case. Newt held his hand out for mine and I took it as he helped me out of his case.

“So onto our next grand adventure?” Newt asked as he closed his case and held out his arm for me to take.

“To the ends of the Earth my darling” I stated as I wrapped my arm around his and the two of us apparated out of the desert.

We had went to Egypt on a quest to report any suspicious characters or to even rescue any magical creatures that would be in danger, never did Newt and I expect that we would end up needing the rescuing and from a Thunderbird no less, and thanks to Frank, Newt and I finally worked up the courage to admit our feelings and never would I take back that day ever again.

#newt scamander #newt scamander x reader #newt scamander fluff #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fbawtft fandom #fluff #romanic fluff #romance #frank the thunderbird

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imagineclaireandjamie · 7 years

Note

Imagine if Claire met Jamie during WWII, they fell in love. Then "ghost Jamie" in the first episode was real Jamie and the story begins with Frank asking Claire at the fireplace who could that be... Sorry for my English

The Fallen Soldier:

As the lights flickered, Claire turned, her eyes wide as darkness surrounded her. Frank had yet to return from his adventures with the reverend and the suddenness of the storm had her on edge.

As the black began to dull, an inky grey replacing the immediate onyx, Claire blinked and set about lighting the candles Mrs Baird had sporadically scattered about the room. An orange glow began to illuminate her rented chamber as she curled her hand around the visible wick, allowing the waxen end to set alight.

Able to see once more she picked her brush from the dressing table, turning the fragile tortoiseshell handle over in her hands. A glint of red caught her eye as her fingers shook, the memories of her last night in France before her return to Britain.

“Just one day more, you goddamn bloody *bastard*!” She cursed, her hiss echoing around the small interior as she fought with herself, begging the tears away as she slammed the brush back down again. Unable to bring herself to de-tangle her curls, Claire flopped helplessly onto the bed, the visions returning.

Champagne had been flowing for hours, the inebriated men and women of the British platoons laughing jovially, the celebrations in full swing.

Claire had searched everywhere for him, canvassing every inch of the base as she sought out the only person she really wished to celebrate *with*.

“They shipped out, ma’am,” a young lieutenant piped up, shifting the dirt beneath his threadbare boots as he delivered the bad news, “I’m not sure as to the exact details, but there is still some clearing up to be done in certain areas and their regiment were called on to make some final sweeps before the rest of us are dismissed.”

“Oh,” Claire replied, subtle hints of sorrow lacing her tone as she swallowed, her throat bobbing nervously at the news.

It had only been a kiss, she mocked internally, castigating herself for trying to track him down in the first place, and they were both married.

“Thank you, soldier,” she returned, realising she didn’t know the young gentleman’s name.

Tipping his hat, the lieutenant turned on his heel, returning to the party and leaving Claire to herself.

Dragging a chair from the centre of the old surgery, Claire propped herself up, leaning her head against the crumbling walls of the bombed out church as she closed her eyes and huffed out a short breath.

Jamie Fraser had come stumbling into her life half way through her posting, all auburn locks and sweet smiles. She knew from the off that she shouldn’t have been dallying with him. He had known how dangerous it was to be left alone with her.

And yet, they had both disregarded those smidgens of doubt, casting aside the logical notion that they both had spouses back at home. Partners that, God willing, they would have to return to once the conflict had abated.

At first it had just been an amicable friendship.

Jamie’s regiment of Scots Dragoon Guards had been posted to the base for a short recuperation stint before continuing onwards, south towards the French border. During their few weeks break, Jamie and Claire had forged an almost unbreakable bond. Keeping her company, he would often trail her as she attended to her patients.

Soon, though, Jamie had been required to move on. With a heavy heart the pair had said their goodbyes.

But Claire had been able to brush off their brief encounter and move on. Affairs of the heart were for young romantics, not for married Claire Randall.

Fate, however, had felt differently and only days later, bandaged almost head to foot, Jamie had been returned to Claire.

Standing in the midst of screaming doctors and nurses, Claire had watched as they carried in several of the regiment, all in various stages of bloody disarray and coated in mud from the trenches.

The dragoons had been caught off guard, their regiment ambushed as they’d journeyed south. Luckily they’d managed to beat off the Germans, but not without sustaining massive losses. Jamie had been fortunate, the Nazis’s had approached from behind and he’d been leading from the front. He had, however, caught some stray bullets and dislocated his shoulder as he’d turned to defend his men.

Over the next few months, Claire had nursed Jamie and his men back to health, taking sole responsibility for their care and in the process, falling deeper and deeper for the young Scot.

She hadn’t said a word about it, though. Knowing their situations, she didn’t want to encourage something that could bring only pain to both of them.

Sitting alone one evening, Jamie had found Claire with her head in a book, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks.

“What’s wrong, Claire?” he’d whispered, snaking his arm around her shoulders as he’d brought himself to her side. “And dinna tell me it’s the book, aye?”

Without saying a word she’d turned to him then, a fervor alight behind her eyes as she’d leaned across the small space that separated them and gently placed her lips against his. In no time at all their kiss had heated up. Lost to his warm mouth on hers, Claire had wrapped her hand around his neck, her fingers twitching against Jamie’s short curls as their tongues met and danced with one another.

A kiss, that’s all. Just a kiss.

But he’d had her against the wall, her back thrust flush with the crumbling brick and her legs hooked gingerly around his solid hips as their army issue uniform ground noiselessly together.

Simply a kiss...

Brought to by a muffled mumble, Claire shook off her fatigue and sat up straight.

“No, sir, I’m sorry,” the colonel replied, inching his way closer to the general who’d lifted his hat and begun nervous wiping his brow, “there’s no way anyone could survive that mess. Fraser and his men...well--”

“Bloody hell!” The general screeched, his voice penetrating Claire to the core, “such a *damn* shame. Bastard Germans, damn them all to hell.”

Frank slammed the door against the wall, shaking the water droplets from his cropped hair as he hunched his shoulders in shock.

Claire jumped, her heart vibrating in her chest as she quickly wiped away the moisture from her eyes.

“Whoops!” He joked, cracking a sort of humorous smile at Claire as he closed the door, silently now as the wind battered the small window. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Something was off, his voice quivering even with the jesting tone he’d tried to mask it with.

“What’s wrong?” Claire returned, smoothing down the silk of her nightgown as she pulled her feet under her bottom and relaxed back into the soft mattress.

“Nothing,” Frank answered, padding over to the clothes hook and placing his trilby on the hatrack.

Quirking her head to the side, Claire shimmied backwards, ignoring the growing feeling of unease as she shrugged her shoulders.

“Well, maybe not...nothing.”

“Go on,” she coaxed, his sudden u-turn igniting a new feeling of apprehension in her gut.

“Please don’t be mad, Claire,” he continued, dusting off invisible dust motes from his jacket as he paced up and down the small area at the end of the bed, his brow furrowed.

Breathing in a tentative breath, Claire nodded across at Frank, urging him to spill whatever was churning him up inside.

“Did you have any Scots in your charge, in France?” He leveled the question at her with no fumbling, his voice steady as he looked her dead in the eyes, his accusatory tone hinting at far more than the innocent remark initially suggested.

“Yes, a few...lovely men. But most hated being stuck with the needle--”

“Did anything happen with any of them, Claire?” He interrupted, ceasing her nervous mumblings as he took one measured step towards her.

“Why are you asking me this, Frank?” she whispered, the cold tingle of dread slipping down her spine as her arms began to shake.

‘He’s not here anymore, Frank, just leave it alone...please…’ she begged, her eyes speaking the words her mouth couldn’t yet say.

“Just answer the question please, Claire. I think you owe me that much.”

Taken aback by his sudden change in attitude, Claire stood from the bed, her fists clenched at her sides. “Yes.” she answered, finally, her eyes never leaving Franks as her insides began to fracture, her heart beating but breaking all at the same time. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I didn’t...but it happened, and I don’t regret it.”

Inhaling exuberantly, Frank nodded his head once, his face --calm only on the surface-- frozen in a sort of disbelief.

Not questioning how he’d come to this conclusion, Claire clenched and unclenched her hands as she waited for him to relinquish the details of her betrayal. She was certain that Jamie was gone, and with him every piece of evidence that she’d been unfaithful.

“I thought this holiday would fix it,” she sobbed, the realisation that any renewed attempt to salvage their marriage would inevitably fail.

“Jesus, Claire,” Frank sighed, his exasperation clear. “Did you come here to seek him out, was that your plan?” he spat out, all manner of calm dissipating now as he angrily tugged at his shoe, flinging it across the room when it wouldn’t cooperate.

Claire froze, her body unable to react as she heard the brogue smack against the wall and fall to the floor with a dull thud.

“He’s dead, Frank.” She gasped, her ribs shuddering as she spoke.

“No, he bloody ISN’T!” he returned, his cheeks flushing red with irritation now as he pointed towards the window. “He is very much alive.”

“No…” Claire mustered, her palms sweating profusely as she glanced from the window to Frank and back again, “but...I heard them say…”

“Then you heard wrong. He’s here. He was stood by the fountain in the central square...staring up at you in the middle of a *fucking* storm, Claire.”

“Did you speak to him?” She replied, her voice regaining some steadiness now as hope raced through her veins.

“No. He saw me and left. Abruptly, I might add. Who knows where he might be now--”

Before he had a chance to finish his sentence, Claire had lunged for her coat, her hands, damp as they were, sliding against her shoes as she tried to wrangle them onto her feet the thrill of the news pulsing through her.

“I-I just have to,” she said, but not to Frank. Eyes focused on the closed door of their room. She spoke lowly so that he could hear, but he wasn’t sure she was actually speaking to him at all. “I’m sorry.”

Darting from the boarding house, Claire rushed out into the night, the wind whipping around her as she ran across the empty square, her hand catching the small water feature that stood proudly in the centre.

“Jamie,” she shouted as soon as she was clear of the guest house, “Jamie, please…”

Lost in the brisk breeze, her words seemed to fade the moment they’d made purchase, whirling around her before disappearing altogether. Gasping in a deep breath, she cried out louder, ignoring the fact that it was past midnight and the poor locals were probably trying to sleep around her.

“Jamie Fraser! It’s me, it’s Claire!”

Grinding to a halt, Claire stood at the entrance to a rather dark alley, the leaves from the trees dancing along the cobbles as the wind swirled them around and around. She felt the hair at the back of her neck prickle and she turned, her lips blue with cold, at the sound of approaching footsteps.

Holding her hand to her mouth, Claire sobbed as he came into view, the thin moonlight illuminating the sharp lines of his face as he walked towards her.

“Claire…” he whispered, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips as she hiccupped and nodded. “I dinna mean to upend your--” he began, his hand reaching towards her in the inky night.

“I don’t care,” she interjected, cutting him off as she stepped forward and took his outstretched hand. “Does this mean you’re not still…?” She questioned, not wanting to ask out loud, afraid to say the words.

“No,” he returned, his eyes downcast now as he joined his fingers with hers. “After you, Claire, it just wasna the same.”

“I thought you were dead,” she breathed, coming closer still.

“I was,” he replied, his nose gently butting against Claire’s as he lowered his head, their brows meeting as the gale blew around them. “For a long time afterwards, I wasna quite alive.”

“God, I love you,” Claire murmured, tilting her head as their lips brushed slowly against one another.

“I ken it, Claire...and I love you, mo nighean donn.”

Exhaling, Claire pushed herself the final inch. Moaning as her lips moulded with Jamie's, the rumble of his Gaelic endearment vibrated down the long column of her throat as she stole a kiss, her tongue rolling softly against his as the world vanished around them, the stormy highland night swallowing them whole.

#;mod mbd #The Fallen Soldier #Jamie was a WWII soldier AU #Jamie X Claire #loraetandotherstuff

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couchcushings · 7 years

Text

so to continue with my tradition of writing (bad) horror fanfics i’ve started a frankenstein one. @justastormie wants to read this one, too, for some ungodly reason known only to themselves. anyway, here’s the beginning of smth that’s rlly just an excuse for me to write two assholes falling into something that might be love but they’re never going to admit it:

one.

It is a curious feeling going to sleep in one place and waking up in another. It brings a special kind of disorientation that nothing else comes close to; whether it is born of falling asleep in a carriage or being carried upstairs by a parent, the feeling never becomes less disturbing. These were Miss Eglantine Dupré's thoughts upon awakening in a strange carriage. She blinked at the darkness for a few moments before drawing back the curtains--an action which she immediately regretted. The carriage was traveling up a steep road on the very edge of a seemingly bottomless ravine. She quickly closed the curtain.

A soft laugh came from the seat opposite her. "You never did have a head for heights."

"Aldis? Is that you?" She squinted in the renewed darkness. "Have we reached Cambridge yet?"

He laughed again, leaning forward into what little light there was. His face was gaunt and shone with a sickly pallor in the darkness. "In a manner of speaking. We are in Switzerland."

A peculiar panic rose in Miss Dupré's throat. "What are we doing in Switzerland?"

"It cannot have escaped your attention these many months that I am not a well man." He coughed, as though to prove his illness to her. "There is a," he paused, "specialist who lives in these mountains who may be able to cure me once and for all. Unfortunately, I did not have the means to make such a journey. That is where you came in, darling. Your father paid for this little trip."

"My father would do no such thing!"

"Not willingly, no. I kidnapped you, Eglantine. This trip and the money to pay the doctor were provided by your father on the condition that you be safely returned to him."

"And yet here I am in Switzerland with you. How can this be?"

"For the simple reason that I killed your father when he handed over the money. I couldn't have him tarnishing my reputation as one of Boston's most eligible bachelors. Your presence is merely a boon. It became... inconvenient to leave you behind. Besides, you may prove a valuable bargaining chip. I hear Baron Frankenstein has been locked up in his chateau alone for almost three years. He will be desperate for company."

Eglantine slapped her ex-fiancé across the face.

"Well, if that's how you feel." He returned the blow with twice the force and was about to renew his blow when the carriage drew to a halt. "We will have to postpone this little argument, darling. It appears that we have arrived at Chateau Frankenstein."

The carriage door opened to reveal a shabby coachman dressed in a faded black cape and top hat. He smiled with yellowed teeth. "We're here, Mr. Jones."

"Excellent, Clemens. How did you and Mrs. Clemens pass the journey?"

"Oh, very well, sir. Although Mrs. Clemens weren't too fond of those heights when we went through the pass."

"Miss Dupré wasn't please with the heights either," Aldis chuckled. "But the views were spectacular." He exited the carriage and, for a brief moment, looked as though he was going to fall. Mr. Clemens steadied him. "The air here is excessively thin," Aldis said. "It appears to affecting my head? Would you please fetch Miss Dupré, Clemens?"

The coachman did as he was asked and fairly pulled Eglantine from the carriage. "Now then, miss, there's no point in being difficult. Mr. Jones has brought you a long way to meet the baron and meet the baron you shall!"

"Is that what you told them?" Eglantine cried. "That you brought me here to meet Baron Frankenstein?" She struggled against Clemens' grip. "He's kidnapped me," she screamed, hoping that someone would hear her. "He kidnapped me and he killed my father!"

Clemens shook his head. "We know that, miss. We helped him."

She went limp. Her only chance at escape now lay with the mysterious doctor that Aldis was hoping to consult: Baron Frankenstein. She allowed Mr. Jones to take her arm and lead her up the drive to the door.

Chateau Frankenstein was crumbling in every sense of the word. Great chucks of rock had fallen onto the path and the stones that remained were split with worrying cracks. The door spit dust the moment Aldis touched it with his knuckles. The sound of his knock rang out.

They waited. Eglantine swallowed her fear and straightened her dress. If she was to enlist Baron Frankenstein's help she would have to look halfway presentable. Just as the silence was becoming oppressive, the door creaked open and they caught their first glimpse of Baron Frankenstein.

He was no longer a young man. His hair was slicked back in a severe fashion and what little he had left was liberally tinged with gray. Eglantine put his age somewhere around fifty. He surveyed them with sharp blue eyes. "May I help you?" He asked.

"Baron Frankenstein? I am Aldis Jones, I believe you received my letter.”

The baron frowned. "I don't receive mail."

Aldis almost laughed. "I find that hard to believe, sir."

"It is somewhat hard to receive mail when one is legally dead, Mr. Jones," Baron Frankenstein said, arching his left eyebrow in an artful manner. "You will have to tell me of your letter's contents."

He took a step forward. "May we at least discuss this inside? It is of a delicate nature."

"I assumed as much." The baron's eyes flickered in Eglantine's direction. "Please, come in, I was just making tea."

The interior of Chateau Frankenstein was a stark contrast to the exterior. It was beautifully furnished with sumptuous antiques of the previous century. It was all Eglantine could do to suppress a gasp. Aldis was not so subtle.

"This is magnificent, sir!" he exclaimed. "Is it even the same building?"

"It is. The shabby exterior keeps me safe. It was not always as such, I had to retrieve most of my family's belongings from the Burgomaster's widow." He gave a sly smile. "But widows are so easily persuaded."

Aldis chuckled politely. "Indeed they are."

The baron led them through a series of tapestried corridors and into a comfortable sitting room. He poured three cups of tea and handed the first to Aldis. "Now, tell me of your letter."

"I am not a well man," he began, "to be quite frank, I am dying of something that even the doctors cannot find a name for. It pinches and wastes at my body. I wish to find a cure."

"So you came to me for this cure?"

"I came for the ultimate cure! There are whispers, /Herr Baron/, that you have performed miracles of surgery. That you have even brought the dead back to life!"

Baron Frankenstein scoffed. "Silly rumors spread by the local peasants."

Aldis shook his head emphatically. "No! I spoke to a man named Hans, he said that you built a man in your laboratory and that you gave him life! He saw it!"

The baron took a sip of his tea. "What else did he tell you?"

"He said that you had perished in a terrible fire; but I didn't believe him. I knew that a man like you would always have a way out."

"It's a shame. Hans always had such faith in my abilities. Tell me, how is the girl? The one he took for his wife?"

"The deaf woman?" Aldis made a disgusted face. "She continues to be a burden to him, night and day."

Eglantine clutched at her tea cup. She felt compelled to speak. "Liar," she spat, "Elizabeth and Hans are very happy together and she has even learned to speak a few words. Not that you would have paid any attention to her—you couldn't bed her or convince her to give you any money!"

"Silence woman!"

Baron Frankenstein raised a hand. "Please, you'll spill tea on my carpet."

She set her tea on a nearby table.

"I'm sorry, /Herr Baron/. It is the sickness." Aldis passed a hand over his face. "Please, I have brought you a million francs worth of gold!" He grabbed Eglantine by the wrist and threw her at the baron's feet. "And I brought you a woman."

"What makes you think I want money? Or, for that matter, affection?" He looked at Eglantine as though /she/ were a tea stain on the carpet.

"Being dead cannot be easy," Aldis said, leaning forward in his seat. "The money would see that you could fully restore the chateau and your laboratory. And as for my dear, sweet, Eglantine," he chuckled, "women are good for so many things."

Eglantine sprung from her spot on a floor and rushed at Aldis. "Bastard!" she cried, grasping for his eyes. "You killed my father!"

The baron pulled her hands from around Aldis' throat. He pinned her arms behind her. "Do shut up. Mr. Jones and I can't talk business with you screeching like some second rate banshee." He returned to his seat and forced her to sit next to him. "What makes you think I would accept this shrew as payment? Am I really presumed to be that kind of man?"

"I don't think you understand. Miss Eglantine Dupré is the eldest daughter and only heir of Auguste Dupré, the Boston steel magnate. A million francs doesn't even scratch the surface of her fortune. You only need find a suitably disreputable priest of marry you and you would be rich beyond your wildest dreams!"

Eglantine glared at the baron, hoping her gaze would be suitably venomous to dissuade him from any kind of untoward ideas.

He released her hands. "I don't think the money is enough. She's suitably attractive, but too strong willed for my taste."

"I see, you like your women weak and passive." She rubbed her wrists. She could already feel the bruises forming.

Aldis spoke before the baron could rebut. "She also had eight years medical training at Boston University. If you don't want her for your wife you could have her for your lab assistant."

"Eight years?" Baron Frankenstein frowned at her.

"Haven't you heard, /Herr Baron/? Women can have minds and careers of their own now. I'm sure it wasn't so when you were born /in the 1600s/, but we like to keep up with the times. It /is/ almost 1900."

"I am well aware of the year, Miss Dupré," he said haughtily. "Mr. Jones, why should I build you a new body? This is what you have come to ask, is it not?"

Aldis nodded. "It is. And I have offered you all reasons except one."

"And that last reason is?"

Aldis pulled a colt revolver from his jacket pocket. "If you do not agree to build me a new body I will shoot you dead where you sit."

The baron adjusted his cravat. "It would appear that we have a deal."

#writing tag #trash fic 2.0 #if anyone wants 2 be tagged when i update just ask

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trischim-blog · 6 years

Text

The Painful Labyrinth’s End

Another snowflake fell on my lap. It is funny how it falls, melts, and then another one falls again, melts, disappears and the cycle goes on. Well, they are made to be like that anyway… and that is very natural for a mere beautiful snowflake in this wintry season. But that’s just scary for people. They call it fate… and I don’t believe in such a thing. For some reasons, I think having one is very unfair. Having a set time and date of death, a set wife-to-be, a set decisions to create, a set everything; that is not how I want to live. Because if people are like the snowflakes that just fell on my lap on this train station, then what is the point of living at all?

I stood up and fixed my clothes as the screeching sound of the train’s rail tracks and the ringing bell can be heard, signaling that the train arrived. I only walked on my way to the door of the train because there are no much people today; it’s Sunday, and it’s snowing.

I let people ride in first and as I enter the door, I felt pain on the head, and my heart started beating too fast that I couldn’t keep up. Danger. I sensed danger. As I saw things slowly, I proceeded walking until someone tapped me from the back. I came back to my senses and I realized for that short little while that I was barely breathing. I heaved a sigh and surprisingly, he was smiling… I can see it from the wrinkles on his eyes. He abruptly handed me a very small box. “Hey, sorry but I think this is yours. You dropped it on the floor on your way here.”

Maybe he is on the same age as me, same height as me, and the almost same voice as me, who is on a black coat, black beret hat, and was wearing a mask. I took the box to scan it but my doubt was written all over my face. The moment I was about to refuse the box (for it was not mine, really), the train’s door was slowly closing and it was moving. The random guy’s eyes sadly smiled as he pushed me inside the train. I never saw such smile before; it was a loaded gun directly pointed at him too. I was shocked, and so did the other passengers. They saw the situation, and they thought of the same idea as me; the look on their faces shows clearly what they think.

As I looked back again on the eerie box, they slowly took small steps backward, while some slowly takes their phone out, maybe to call the police. Sweat came running down to my temple as negative ideas also came creeping on my head. I could kill all of the people here is if this is a bomb… but why? Why would a stranger give me such a thing?

I mustered enough courage and I opened the box. Motions were all on my head, and my heart’s beating so fast that it can be heard from a far distance, the feeling was familiar. I just felt it a while ago. “If this is my end…” I thought, “Prove to me that this is because of fate.” I completely opened it, and being ready and expecting for death to fetch me, I was near to passing out.

“Intersection on the main road. Intersection on the main road.” The driver announced. The train stopped on the intersection where my workplace is nearly located. The passengers did not see what was inside the box, so the tension they felt was still there. They totally ran out of the train as soon as the door opened, leaving me alone inside as I try to absorb and compose myself from blank state of insane expectations.

“Good morning, sir,” everyone greeted me with a smile. I rushed on our office and I was the only one yet to arrive. “Good,” I exclaimed, “Let me scan this light box given to me by a stranger on which I thought was a bomb.” Yes, I think it was a small prank; it was only a box with a few papers. How can a box of papers kill a lot of people on the train? How can a box of papers make my heart beat so fast? I opened it once again and took out the first page of paper, for it was neatly piled.

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December 12, 2016

Hey, another me… or should I say Jeno… I wrote you this because I think you don’t deserve what I’ve gone through here. But maybe you are a little confused; I am Jeno Nam, a writer from the other world, a decision you did not make. Remember when you were stuck between two choices after graduation? (It was March 29, 2014) Two companies sent you a work request for you to apply in their company. Was it a publishing company and a news network? Yes, it was. You chose to become a news caster there, right? Well, I chose the publishing company and became a writer here. Don’t worry too much; I am leading a successful life here.

Did you get my point so far? Is it still kind of… confusing? To be on point, I am from a decision you never took. Crazy, right? I never believed in such thing too not until something happened to Yuna. I am sure you met her there too… And since she is certainly your girlfriend there, you might automatically know what happened to us; we became friends, just very… very… close friends, like how we used to be.

I wrote this letter not to become some hero and be praised later, but I want my other self to not feel the same feelings I felt, not suffer from deadly regret your whole life. I do not have much time to write, so please… if you are reading this, believe what I say. Please read all the following pages now and fix the mistake.

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I nearly fell out from my swivel chair.

I pressed my lips. This was dated yesterday and the ink and paper still look new. I believe I am denying some facts once again. I don’t believe these things… but all he said… it was all true. I chose news casting as my profession over writing right after graduation. And about Yuna… he was correct. Yuna and I were originally friends not until Carlo, her colleague, came chasing her and she was stuck to which one should she choose, Carlo or me. Yuna chose me here… but knowing the fact that she chose Carlo based on the writer of this letter’s world… that seems too… rational and crazy at the same time.

After some scans, although it is unthinkable for me to do it, I think I just started to slowly believe everything now.

I took a great look at the words written in small letters at the end of his letter, “About Yuna… she died here. And probably she’ll die there, too. You need to save her. That is why I am writing this letter for you.”

The office was slowly filled with my co-workers. I thought to myself that I will continue reading the following letters after the meeting will end.

“For the weather forecast and traffic state of our city, Mr. Jeno Nam, you are up.” The head handed me some overviews and tons of paper. She still kept discussing some things but all that was in my head was… If Yuna died on the other world… would that mean that she will not die here?

“Mr. Nam?”

If what I understood is generally correct… If ‘opposite happens’ is the rule of these crazy ideas, what exactly is his point in writing the letter?

“Mr. Nam! Are you listening?” After a short daydream, my concrete thoughts were suddenly scattered into pieces.

“Hello? Mr. Jeno Nam! How long will you stare at me blankly?” The head’s face expectedly turned red again like she does when the printer suddenly doesn’t work during rush hours; meaning she resists herself from exploding. I fixed my sitting and cleared my throat. “I’m sorry ma’am; some things went flying into my mind.” I awkwardly laughed as I looked at my co-workers.

“So are you okay with that?” she suddenly asked. All of my co-workers seemed to have planned this, for they all looked at me on sync.

My mind exclaimed, ‘I’M OKAY WITH THE WHAT?’ but my mouth said yes with determination (just to avoid further scolding) and although I feel something wrong about it (Frank, a co-worker, lifted his thumbs up and nodded, as if he is very delighted on my decision)… I smiled back, but it was broken after a split second. “Okay, you will take over Frank’s duty tomorrow.”

Everyone had happy smiles painted on their face, especially Frank; I also had one, a killer smile. But I had nothing to do; I am not some chief executive officer to just reject some work. I finished all of my personal paper works until three o’clock in the dawn (thanks to the responsibility given by Frank) and I was so tired I slept in my office. The next morning, my table smelled like coffee. I looked up and nobody was still there, nothing new, except the hot coffee on my desk. It has a sticky note on it. “Jeno, thank you for taking my work, I had to help my mother-in-law on her business. Love you bro.” –Franky

I wanted to throw up in that short while. No… not because of the coffee or what Frank just wrote (although it seems like it) but I felt dizzy and distorted scenes of agony and pain started showing up on my head. I had a feeling that it is somehow because of what happened yesterday about the letters… the letters… I rushed to find the box of letters under my desk and started reading the second page. I suddenly become very nervous as I remembered what the writer wrote.

Please read the following pages now and fix the mistake.

I forgot to resume reading the letter and I have a bad feeling for this small mistake.

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December 13, 2016

This was the day Jeno. Yuna’s parents started fighting at dawn of this day and you might not realize that neither chats nor texts came from her for you will be busy there on your work. So please, even during work, message her and ask her out. You might not also realize that she came to your house at dawn because she needed comfort. I didn’t have the chance to go home and just slept in the office, so she just left there broken hearted. Please… go home early on December 12, 2016 and wait for her.

If you ever read this late, at exactly 8:14 AM she will call you but you can’t answer for you will be busy again with work. You will only answer it in her last attempt, she’ll be asking you to save her, yet after you answered, she will get hit by a delivery truck. Please, answer her first call and ask her to stay at her place. You will take her at Green Square and tell her not to cross any roads surrounding that.

You might be wondering… if she died in my world and opposite usually happens in your world, Yuna would not die, right? But Jeno, this happened to me too. I asked the same questions too… for our other self also came to me like how I came to you. I realized death is inevitable. It is the total opposite of life. Death is the only thing that can end different stories the same way, they all end very regretful. My doubt kills me now, Jeno. I doubted the letter and regrets is more painful than death.

I want you to end this story. I don’t want everybody to feel the same regret as me and make mistakes ever again.

So please, I am asking you, do not doubt and go immediately.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I threw the paper away and I rushed to get my phone on my bag. 4 missed calls. I contacted Yuna back in a speed of light. It was out of reach. I started sweating again on this wintry day, and all the emotions I could feel are mixed up. My blood started gushing all over my bloodstreams and I could barely breathe. It felt like a pool of water just under my nose and anytime soon, when I breathe hard, I’d drown.

Am I already late? The time says it was 8:02 AM. I took my coat and ran straight to the elevator but my co-workers were all using it. I was too rushed that I took the stairs, running and jumping three steps consecutively on it. After reaching the ground floor, I felt something dropped on my clothes from my face, no it wasn’t sweat… it was tears.

Tears could either mean we are happy or we are deeply sad. I am still not certain on what I feel but all I know was that it was meant for the person I wanted to protect all my life, the reason I am running out to ditch work early in the morning, it was for Yuna. If I let her die, it’s a great fall where no one could save me… a fall where I can lose everything.

I bit my lip as I thought of the idea of doubting everything I read. Doubt killed Yuna there… Would I let it happen here?

At exactly 8:13, I reached Green Square and she’s not there. I shouted for her name, I even ran around the area to look for her, but she was nowhere to be found. One minute more… I tried to call her again and after all those tears I’ve shed, she finally picked up.

“Yuna, where are you?” I asked calmly as I continuously catch my breath.

“Jeno… Save me.” She said and she started crying and after a short while, a loud honk came after and the call ended.

The world literally stopped.

In this cold morning, where the snow is still starting to fall, I cried for her name as I start feeling regret; I ran towards a crowd I can see from afar, half-dead but still hoping.

“If this is what they call fate, I’d rather be the one to be dead.”

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“There were loud ambulance sirens and there were people around me screaming and helped me reduce blood loss. Of all people, I saw two people, one was crying so loud like a child and the other was hugging her tight.

Oh, that crying girl… that’s the one I saved. She was still beautiful even when she cries; maybe because she cries diamonds that she shines? She almost got hit by a delivery truck… so I pushed her away and got hit on her place.

I smiled… although it seems crazy because I was the one who got hit, although it hurts, I, at least changed the ending. Even so, I don’t want to make them feel regretful because of me so I smiled at them, even if it was the least thing I could do… because I can fake it. Jeno looked at me with his wide eyes and even from this scene where chaos and pain crawl, I clearly saw tears falling from his eyes. He knew it was me. I was the one who gave him those letters. His smile was screaming ‘thank you’, and he hugged her tight as they walk away from the scene.

You might be curious as to why I was still there when I should not be.

Right after I handed him the box of letters, I had to stay for one more day before returning. It was a crazy decision for staying because they say if you stay on a place you don’t belong to, you’ll get trapped and die on that place.

Yet I saw the Jeno on that place to show the same expression as what I had showed when I was at his place. I had a doubt… Jeno there… was still young and afraid to believe like I was.

I watched him after that. I risked myself and I followed him on all of his ways, I watched him read the letters… yet I only watched; I can never show up because there might be some consequences. I already stayed there, what more if I show up? I am truly a coward like how I used to be.

I saw him go and ran for the last minutes of his loved one’s life but he was too late like what happened to us; he was lost on his own ways. He was blinded by the fact that he had to save her but he was carelessly looking for her. I understand what he felt, the fear of not saving someone in which you are fully aware that it will happen…losing and wasting time doubting things and finally believing yet it was too late… that’s just regretful. He never saw a glimpse of her as he was searching, unlike what I did to you. I was frozen… I was taken aback by those tears… I was totally out of my mind when I watched you get hit because of one silly reason: I still doubted things.

So maybe I was out of my mind to suddenly jump to their scene; though I should not and I cannot; I pushed her and I got hit. I was rushed into the hospital then after that, I was sure I was erased in everyone’s memory; I was somehow illegal in his place. The news just before I return shows Yuna was actually got hit but was mildly injured, and even my blood on the snow disappeared without a trace.

I’m sure they are living happily now, Yuna,” a tear started falling from my eyes again, “My regrets… they are all still there. And now that I think of it, I think this is my punishment.

Even so, I don’t want to think of what happened to you as fate, this is really something that happens in life; death is inevitable. I would easily accept this fact that you are gone if it is not fate.

All I ever did without you was endlessly blaming me for being such a coward. I am not sure if I can still live happily with this guilt I am bearing… our other self might be happy now… but I let you die here even with the same chance, and that’s my truth, not my fate. I am deeply sorry, for I am not powerful enough to save you on our time, maybe I can fly but I will never touch the sky.”

I smiled like she was just in front of me, “Yuna, this is the end of our labyrinth.”

The sound of the cutter that fell was faint, and the snow right beside me slowly became red. I smiled at a name carved in a tombstone right beside me, Yuna Han, May 5, 1993-December 13, 2016.

As I finally closed my eyes under the falling snow, as the cold wind blows from the east sea and the sun hides, as I lay between the white sheets of this cold blanket, I longed to have an opportunity to be right beside her where everything is white and happy… where people start singing that song that we both fell in love with… where people smile sincerely as they clap their hands. I won’t ask for more, I just simply want my ending to be right next to her.

As the haunting regret still lingers, I let myself be fooled and smiled with the waving pain. I struggled less but it still hurts, like how it felt when I was able to finally save them from pain; when I proved myself wrong; when I was at the edge of the painful labyrinth’s end.

Well… not anymore.

END.

#shortstory literature

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