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bontenten · 3 years

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Sleeping Beauty

Pairing: Shirabu x f!reader WC: 5.6k Genre/Warnings: smut, fairy tale retelling, incest, dubcon/noncon, drugs (sleeping pill), somnophilia, abusive past relationship, implied rape (not Shirabu), panic attack, victim-blaming, hero-complex with a bit of god-complex, hints of yandere, uhh medical malpractice, Shirabu’s bangs

Summary: The real story of Sleeping Beauty is anything but beautiful. Shirabu will do everything he can to keep you in a safe haven where you can freely dance with your prince once upon a dream.

A/N: This is a part of the whorehouse intoxicated collaboration, rest of the pieces of this toxic journey can be found here! Thank you Ria and Angel for helping beta <3 Love you both so much.

Unofficial bgm: Once Upon a Dream & Once Upon a December

"You'll never wash me from you," he sneers, pulling you back by a handful of hair. You feel a blanket of pain shoot across your scalp. "You'll never really get away. Time to wake the fuck up."

"G-get away from me!"

You thrash and kick your legs wildly hoping something will land. The moment you hear a pained grunt and feel his grip loosen, you scramble up to your feet and run. Your shoes grate against wet cement as you take off. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you will your legs forward one after another. The caw of birds seem to act as a beacon leading you through the twists and turns of the terrain.

A left turn here, two blocks straight. Past the corner store and beyond the stoplight. Three blocks. Right turn. Two Blocks. Five steps away. Four...Three..Two...Safety...

----

"In the forest, the princess played with a lot of animal friends. She grew up there in the cottage with three fairies looking after her."

Thunder claps and lightning strikes outside.

"It's so loud Kenjirou-nii!" you cry, burying yourself into Shirabu's arms.

"Shh, I'm here," Shirabu coos, rocking you back and forth until your sobs subside. "One day, the princess was singing with the songbirds..."

Shirabu begins to recount the fairytale of Sleeping Beauty to you, slowly easing your mind away from the turbulence outside.

"Do you think you can sleep now?"

You shake your head and jump again when the thunder claps over the roof of the house.

"It's okay, I'm right here. Big brother’s always going to protect you."

"Like the prince protecting the princess?"

"Yes, exactly. You're always my princess, now go to sleep. I'll wake you when the sun's up.”

After a while, you calm down and slowly drift into sleep with your breaths evening out. Shirabu pulls the covers over both of you and enters sleep as well.

The winds continued to howl outside the window...the branches tapping...tapping against the window...tap...tapping…

----

Shirabu Kenjirou opens his eyes. He had just fallen asleep while studying for the third time that night. There is no use staying at the library if he is going to treat it as a hotel; he’ll be better off going home first. He yawns and stretches his neck, then packs his bags to return to his apartment. There are few students left in the building at this ungodly hour. Dark clouds loom overhead and the air is filled with the pitter patter of autumn rain hitting cement. Shirabu zips up his coat, opens his umbrella, and walks into the dark.

You would have been so frightened by this sort of weather, whimpering under your blankets, counting sheep with shaky breaths. Just like how you did in that dream of his earlier.

While growing up, Shirabu hadn't cared all that much about anything else considering he spent most of his time with his studies or playing volleyball. Although there was you, his little sister, he figured you had your little bubble anyway. But on a stormy night, you teetered down the hall after finding your parent’s room locked. Afraid and sleepy, you looked for comfort elsewhere and arrived at Shirabu’s room.

Shirabu had been most irritated and decided to shoo you out with strings of curses and profanities, but he couldn’t. The sight of your form huddled right outside his bedroom, with young eyes pleading for him took hold of a bit of humanity in Shirabu’s heart. So, he let you into his room, a safe haven, and eventually a world that was composed of only the two of you against the rest of the world.

Shirabu has known for a long time that you are the most brilliant, precious, and purest thing he’ll ever encounter. Always perfect. Forever unsullied.

There are many things that Shirabu wants to shield you from. If he can secure one more hour of innocence, one more day, one lifetime, he’ll do so without a moment of hesitation. The real world is unlike the fairy tales that you hear about while growing up.

The real story of Sleeping Beauty is anything but beautiful. There isn’t a handsome prince the princess meets in a forest. No color changing cake. No kiss of love. In the real story, the princess is put into an endless slumber and has her virginal body taken by some unknown beast of a king, used like a rag for his carnal pleasure. When he leaves, the sleeping girl is then forgotten like trampled daisies under the hooves of horses. And she will wake to find her womb bulged with bastard life as a result of the damnation. The stretches clawing around the navel as permanent reminders that nothing will wash him from her.

The real world is dark. Horrible. Wretched. Dirty. Filled with suffering. That is why he, Shirabu Kenjirou, responds to the call to action and enters a life of service. In his heart he yearns to save and help, even if just a little, by becoming a prince with a white coat. He will not give up trying to salvage pieces of humanity he’ll touch, and in the process, carve out a haven, a little forest with a cottage, for his dearest sister to safely live in.

It has been a while since he last heard from you. Partly his own fault, really. Ever since Shirabu entered university and then medical school, the number of times you two would meet up dwindled. The hours on the phone became texts and soon after, communication vanished into mostly silence.

You are in university now, grown up and stepping into the real world, but that doesn't mean you are no longer his little sister. And because you are the one and only, Shirabu feels that he should try to do a better job as an older brother and check-in with you to see how you are doing. So, Shirabu takes out his phone that’s still on silent after studying.

27 missed calls from Sister

Shirabu pauses in his tracks and returns the call. Cars zoom by on the streets while he waits for the line to connect.

He was right, you must have been frightened.

The first call doesn’t connect, so Shirabu immediately tries the second time. You pick up on the third attempt.

"It's me, I'm so sorry I didn't pick up earlier."

"K-Kenjirou-nii..." your voice weakly translates over the speaker.

Shirabu presses the phone closer to his ear and turns up the volume. "Where are you now," he demands. "At school?"

"...Your place..." Your voice sounds so dangerously faded, like petals beaten to the ground from the rain.

Shirabu bolts. His apartment is just a couple blocks away. Around the corner just up ahead. Shirabu makes a sharp turn and splashes through a puddle.

"Stay...on the phone with me," he urges, paying no mind to his soaked shoes and socks.

You nod in understanding, as if he’ll hear your action.

"I'm almost there okay, almost."

Shirabu isn’t lying. A few moments later you hear the frantic footsteps coming closer to you. The stomping noises make your skin crawl, but the familiar face of your brother melts those fears away. He appears with his wet bangs stuck to his face and his shoulders heaving up and down. It’s him, your niichan, your prince finally here.

You scramble up and dive into his open arms, in relief that you are safe at last, as you finally allow tears to mix with rain.

"I was so scared. I missed you so much, Kenjirou-niichan," you sob into Shirabu's wet coat. "Where were you, where were you?"

"I'm sorry. I'm here now, I'm sorry," Shirabu apologizes, "Let's go inside first, alright? We’re both drenched.”

----

Under the bright lights of the living room, Shirabu gets a better look at you. You catch his discerning eyes studying you up and down, visually tracing the markers of your demise. That’s when you crack.

“Kenjirou-nii...the real world, the world is a horrible place. I trusted him, you know? I trusted that man.”

Foolish and stupid, Shirabu wants to say. It’ll be easy to simply yell at you.

Shirabu is not someone without a temper. He was quite known for it back in his high-school days. The bruises, the scars that did not heal well. Shirabu reminds himself to keep his composure, especially in front of you. He’s to be a doctor. He’s to be a protector, a savior. And with the training he already has so far, Shirabu knows he’s already as good as any board certified, licensed white-robed saint. He just needs to do what he’s meant to do. Heal. Clean. Purify.

After listening to your brief tale, Shirabu tells you not to worry about anything else tonight other than take a hot shower and get some rest. He gives you a reassuring smile and sends you off to the bathroom with towels and a large t-shirt.

While you wash-up and lose your thoughts piecing together the messy events of the night, Shirabu paces in the living room after he changes his own wet clothes. Nevermind the medical books he still needs to pour over, all Shirabu wants to do right now is track down the culprit and stick a scalpel through his socket. No, that’s just too easy. That bastard deserves something much more horrible, a slow and patient torture, a death within grasp but just out of reach. As if agreeing with Shirabu’s thoughts, your phone on the coffee table lights up. Shirabu picks up the device and watches the notifications pop-up.

Shirabu sees an unknown number call you. He doesn’t pick up, letting the phone ring while he reads the numbers across the screen and commits them to memory. The phone calls stop and an onslaught of texts follow; some coherent and others far from decipherable. There are messages of broken apologies and confessions of persistent love. Requests for you to go back to him. Shirabu scoffs at the language.

Shirabu continues to wait with impassive eyes, but the tight death grip around the device gives away the boiling rage beneath his skin. How dare the man behind that accursed number treat you, his little sister and princess, in such a foul manner. This beast who stole from you. Who is the reason behind the tainting of your now sullied innocence.

Finally after a few minutes of silence, the screen lights up with a series of curses and condemnation that show the man’s true colors. A morphed beast due to your lack of response. Shirabu scrolls through the list of notifications again with impassive eyes, but the tight death grip around the device gives away the boiling rage beneath his skin.

"You will pay," Shirabu seethes, taking a knife from the kitchen and ramming the sharp end straight into the device glass. The phone buzzes desperately and goes dark. You have no use for that phone anymore after all of this anyway, and the cursed number is already memorized by Shirabu for his own purposes.

----

Shirabu’s room is tidy. The two bookshelves on either side of the table are filled with books, photos, and many other accolades. That’s your older brother alright: perfect, proper, always right. Always right about everything, except one thing. The world you know really isn’t the wonderland he told you about growing up. Not at all.

You bury your face into Shirabu's pillows and will yourself to sleep. You are safe here in his bed. It’s a haven...safely tucked in a forest. You are in a forest. The trees and the breeze. Songbirds are singing.

You can dance here, twirl about...safe...free…

The trees melt.

Birds squawk and screech, scampering away…

Ink engulfs you....swallowing you whole

Falling...falling…

"You'll never wash me from you," he sneers. "You'll never really get away. Time to wake the fuck up."

NO! you try to scream. You can’t, the weight on your chest sinks you deeper, only silence is uttered...choked…

Wake up.

"Wake up!"

Your eyes fly open and you see him. Him. A blood curdling shriek finally tears through your throat and you thrash. "Getawaygetawaygetaway! NO!"

"It's me, hey, it's me. You're okay, you're safe." Shirabu’s eyes widen with worry at your outburst, but gives you ample space to breathe and compose yourself.

This familiar voice. It does not belong to him. It’s definitely not him.

"...Kenjirou-nii?" you ask quietly. The shadow is backlit from light coming in through the door and your vision is still fuzzy from the nightmare.

A tender hand closes around yours. "Shhh, it's okay, you're okay now. It was a bad dream, you're safe. You're safe. I'm here."

Cold sweat runs down your temples. Your breath is fast and shallow.

"Follow me, okay. Breathe in..." Shirabu takes a deep breath. You follow his voice and movement as if they are lanterns guiding you through a maze. "And breathe out. Good, you're doing great. Breathe in...and out..."

You feel your mind slowly beginning to clear with each inhale and exhale. Finally, you see Shirabu clearly again. You can smell the scent of his body wash from him. The texture of the blanket rubs against your fingertips. You’re here in Shirabu’s room. Safety. Haven.

"I'll be right back," Shirabu tells you, before leaving you for a moment and going towards the bathroom. He opens the medicine cabinet, pops out a few white pills from a box.

"Here," he says holding out the small tablets in the middle of his palm. The off-white seems to almost glow in the dark.

"It's zolpidem, a sleeping pill I sometimes take for insomnia. It'll help you for tonight, and then we'll get you something else tomorrow that'll work better."

You look at the pill and then at Shirabu. Shirabu is someone you love and trust with all your heart. His embrace is your anchor and haven when the rest of the world has turned a blind eye. He’s your brother. One and only. There’s no reason not to trust him.

"I won't see him will I?"

"No," Shirabu affirms. The pills don't really manipulate dreams, but if reassuring you can placebo sweet dreams, then what harm really is there? He didn’t pass Ethics with top marks for nothing.

Shirabu gently presses the pill body against your lips and you part them, allowing the small object to slip through. He feeds another and you open your mouth obediently. You look at Shirabu’s eyes which are fixated on the way your lips wrap around his three fingers. Kenjirou-nii’s lashes are so nice and pretty, you think.

One gulp of water later, and you feel nothing but a cold sensation traveling down your throat and disappearing into your belly.

"It'll take about half an hour, I'll stay with you until you fall asleep," Shirabu says. He supports your back and gently lowers you back into the comforts of the plush mattress. Shirabu will surely carry the same attentiveness and care when he becomes a full-fledged doctor. You are sure of it. The big brother you grew up with has truly grown up and matured. But no matter how much he changes or how much you mess up, he’ll always be your big brother.

"Can you lie down next to me again, like when we were young?"

An innocent request from a patient-in-need. Shirabu complies and lies down next to you.

"I remember when we were young, I would make you dance with me to live out my princess dreams. You remember?”

Afternoons next to the stereo, crayons scattered on the floor. The smell of something baking in the kitchen. Shrieks and laughter in the living room. Even though Shirabu would be mildly annoyed at first, he found humoring your imagination to be a pleasant and soothing experience. Even he was sometimes whisked away from textbooks into a magical forest that was just you and him. The stress and burdens of everything else all seem so much lighter on his shoulders when you’re simply just there.

"Of course I remember, silly."

You hum softly and continue waiting for the medicine in your bloodstream to make its way through your body.

"Do you...remember the sleeping beauty story you would always tell me?"

"Yea?"

You pause for a moment before quietly asking, "Kenjirou-niichan, why did you lie to me?"

Shirabu does not respond and only glances over at you, eyeing your closed lids. Closed though they may be, the tiny beads of glimmering tears are beginning to emerge from between the lashes and trail down your cheeks.

"There is no prince, Kenjirou-nii...no prince for me, no one...niichan...," you mumble between your breaths. The drug is starting to take its effect, ushering your mind into another dimension far away from hurt and pain. It swallows you like a pit of ink, sinking you deeper and deeper...

----

Kenjirou-nii, why did you lie? Earlier, Shirabu felt his breath hitch when you asked that.

He calls out your name softly, brushing over your cheeks, and listening to your soft breathing for a good while to make sure you are in fact asleep. At long last, maybe this is a good dream.

A lie? No! Not a lie, Shirabu wants to tell you. For you, his dearest sister, who only ever deserves happiness, in the rawest and truest form. You are supposed to have a life of others giving gifts of love, never having to offer anything of your own.

Shirabu feels his blood boil once more at the thought of that man who stole your innocence away. The one who took your body for his own carnal pleasures. The one who dared to steal you from him, Shirabu Kenjirou. If Shirabu's nails are not kept in immaculate condition for his profession, no doubt, his grip would be drawing blood from his palms.

Those marks and scars across your skin. Shirabu traces his finger down your neckline and along your arms...

Your head turns from left to right and you manage to shrug the big collar of the t-shirt off your shoulder. Shirabu can see, under the glow of moonlight from the cleared night sky, a nasty mark. A permanent mark. And before he realizes it, his fingers are already traveling over, tracing along and testing out the patterns and bumps.

Shirabu feels his chest burn beyond the anger and fury. Guilt. Where was he all this time when you were suffering? Why hadn't you just called him then? Anguishing thoughts of his little sister writhing in pain under that beast's grasps tear Shirabu apart. Did you cry? Were you scared? All these years studying for what? For what noble purpose is Shirabu trying to pursue if he can’t even save those closest to him?

Shirabu continues to search for any other marks or discolorations that are splayed across your skin like a map. It is what it is now. But Shirabu still has his calling. He is a man who answers to a life of service and healing: a prince in a white coat. No matter what happens, even if you’re tainted now, you’ll still be his little sister.

Even if your naivety and stupidity got you into the mess in the first place. Of course, why didn’t you listen to your brother’s warnings and stay in a safe haven like a good girl? Stay in your room and study for your future like a good student? Like him? Why did you think running off for fun, enjoying “youth and freedom” like the other degenerates would be a good idea?

Shirabu grits his teeth. Look at you now, damaged and past the point of no return, used. Injured and ill. Still, he needs to get the full story first, and see where else you might possibly be hurt. A complete diagnosis needs to come first. After the messages from the man, Shirabu is all the more certain that there are more clues left, and he needs evidence. He needs to know. The comforter is pulled away and careful hands examine the lines of your palms.

Once upon a time, you grabbed Shirabu’s hand and tried to use the methods of schoolyard palm-reading on him. You even exclaimed, “Kenjirou-niichan, this line means you’ll live a long life! And we can be together forever because my life line is really long too!”

Shirabu smiles at the memory and presses a kiss to the center of your palm. It must have been so painful, how could you have possibly endured? But you did and you survived. You are so brave.

Probing fingertips trace across your collarbone and push the fabric of the large t-shirt up to reveal your torso. Shirabu blinks, realizing that this is now the body of a fully matured woman. You take a deep breath in your sleep from the cold air running across your exposed breasts. Shirabu can see the nipples perk up from the chill and hesitantly touches the bud with a hint of academic curiosity.

“Mmm, that tickles...” you giggle softly. Your hand pushes Shirabu's off and scratches the same spot he just traced, fondling your own breast briefly before letting go and continuing to sleep. Even grown up now, still the same adorable little sister.

Shirabu lets himself tease your nipples and knead the soft flesh of your breasts, toying around and watching your cute little expressions. Sometimes you’ll respond again and paw the tickling hands away. It’s fun, like playing a little game.

But when he lets his eyes wander down, Shirabu’s eyes narrow. Below the breasts, on either side of the waist, Shirabu sees damning marks of deep purple turning into a disgusting yellow. Like cursed claw marks. Shirabu hesitantly presses on the bruise, watching the color transform under his touch. He stops immediately when you begin to whine in pain. Carefully, Shirabu presses a kiss on these markings too, just like any other little injury you sustained in the past. A kiss so the pain flies away.

Foolish, foolish girl. Naive princess. Why did you let this happen to yourself? In the future, don’t run anymore. Stay here where it’s safe.

There is just one place left Shirabu did not examine yet, a hidden spot that is supposed to be locked away that someone else discovered. Shirabu looks down at the dark lace panties obstructing his view like gates of a castle. It’s a poor “keep out” message; if anything it entices anyone who sees it to come in. A tempting invitation to see what’s behind.

Shirabu allows his clean fingers to easily slip through and begin a thorough investigation through the soft folds of flesh. His fingertips dip into a pool of wetness. He furrows his brows. When did this happen?

Why are you wet? His eyes focus on your sleeping face that still has a relaxed smile. What are you dreaming about that makes your body like this? Shirabu drags the fingers covered with your slick to circle your clit. In response your thighs clamp and twitch. So sensitive, still inexperienced, even if you’re sullied.

Shirabu slides the soaked panties off and pushes your thighs apart so he can continue his examination. That person must have touched this area too, his fingers have been here, and then…plunged his fingers into you like so. Your body trembles as Shirabu’s two fingers probe in, fully examining your inner anatomy. Soft, warm muscles clamp tightly around his digits and try to stop them from entering further. It’s for your good and his knowledge. He pushes deeper into you, dragging alongside the bumps and ridges of your walls.

You whine loudly and arch your back when Shirabu’s fingers find a sweet spot. Your head shifts on the fluffy pillows.

“Did you like that? Did that feel good?” Shirabu asks, probing your hole once more. As if in agreement, your body twitches again and your hips automatically roll against the palm, pressing your sensitive clit into the surface. Your breathy sighs are soft and sweet, unlike any other sound Shirabu has heard from you. It’s like a spell that enchants Shirabu and beckons for him. He shudders as he feels his cock responding to each noise coming out from between your lips.

It’s good, something feels so good. Under the sunlight, you feel warmth pooling throughout your body. There are tingles in the soles of your feet, like grass tickling skin while running around barefoot. Your body feels so light and relaxed. It’s warm and you’re not in this forest alone. The shape of a prince appears. You know he’s a prince because his voice is gentle and his touch feels safe.

If this feels good, it’s only because this is an act of love. If this makes you happy, it’s because it’s love. If it’s love, it’ll fill the empty pools of hurt. And if you’ll be whole again, you’ll heal. Shirabu makes up his mind and caresses your cheeks tenderly, So beautiful. Always beautiful. A sleeping beauty. His hand reaches to the waistband of his pants.

The prince rests his hand on your hips and excitement jolts through your body. You wrap your arms around his neck and smile back.

Shirabu freezes the moment he feels your arms wave into the air and reach for him. The sneaky fingers run across his skin.

"Dance..with me," you slur before falling back into silence.

The alarm washes away when he confirms you are still sound asleep.

"Are you dreaming of your prince?" Shirabu asks while tearing open a condom packet. Medical safety. He should have worn gloves earlier too, if he wasn’t already too entranced. "Dancing? Then I'll dance with you."

Forever. I'll be your prince, my sweet darling.

Shirabu runs the length of his hardened cock along your glistening slit. Rather than take, rather than pillage and steal...Shirabu will give. Replace the gross markers of pain with soft fleeting kisses. Replace the innocence stolen with love given unconditionally. Shirabu will give you all the love you deserve and more.

Shirabu’s fingers weave into your delicate ones, the palms join together, and your fingertips automatically lock with your niichan’s. It’s the starting position for a waltz in the forest, once upon a dream.

The man takes the initiation, the leading step. Shirabu closes the gap, sinking his length into your sweet embrace in a fluid and wet squelch. You respond, digging your nails and tightening your grip on his hands. Your other arm hugs around your partner, your niichan, pulling his body close against yours. Your blank eyes flutter open briefly to look straight at the shadow of Shirabu. Of course, you don’t see anything, you’re actually in a warm forest shyly gazing at your prince. Shirabu almost thinks that he woke you up, but you only let out a quiet moan before your body relaxes again.

Shirabu groans and rests his cock in your warm and tight embrace. This is the way it should be, how it ought to be done. No one else can lead you in this dance the way he can. The way he will. This is not the self-fulfilling king stealing the princess’s virginal body for his own pleasure. This is the loving prince who loves and gives selflessly. Your big brother knows you the best, knows how you’ll respond, knows how you’ll like it. Shirabu slowly draws himself out and thrusts back in.

The prince presses himself so close to you, and you inhale sharply. During the waltz, you always have to maintain body contact with your partner. You feel his breath on your cheeks, and you’re sure he can feel your hammering heartbeat. The intimacy builds in the tender but secure hold. The steps are quick but the movements are not violent. It’s just enough that the heat stirring in your core spreads throughout your body.

Breaths become more labored and raspy into the act. Shirabu sees your face morph into bliss as he continues his pace and rocks his hips into you. His own brows furrow as Shirabu feels his grip over rationality falling apart with each thrust. Each flutter of your walls against him only invites him to come in deeper, farther. Harder.

“...K-Kenjirou-nii...,” you softly cry out.

Your honeyed voice is a thick syrup trapping Shirabu, coaxing him. It’s like a melody inviting a weary traveler, a lost prince, in for rest. Your voice, your body, it’s tantalizing.

"Too good," Shirabu groans to himself. Why is it so good? You, his little sister, how? He looks down towards where he sees his cock, covered with your fluids, disappear into you. The thin latex barrier doesn’t stop how close the two of you are, Shirabu feels each clench and spasm around him. “My little sister, I didn’t know…”

Shirabu can now understand just why that man did all that to you. Why that man wants to keep you by his side. Why he incessantly sends messages and tries to manipulate you back into their world.

It’s the only explanation, really, when you don’t even know how bewitching your body is. How enticing your voice is. Anyone would want to keep it as their own. Your warmth, your sweet, sweet hole. This cunt of yours is itself a safe haven. And Shirabu feels like he’s the one being made whole from you. It’s all because of you.

Each moan from you. Those gentle mewling cries, a witch’s spell, an incantation for addiction. That man is trying to manipulate you? How? When your whole existence manipulates everyone first, drawing them all in with the image of your unsullied purity.

Shirabu feels his impending release around the edge. His pace quickens and his thrusts meet with each of your twisting squirms. Your head tosses side-to-side on the pillow as your sleepy climax washes through.

Spin. Faster and faster in the forested ballroom. Twirl for the finale. You feel a dizzying jolt as the prince dips your body back. It’s a whirlwind of love. In your dream, the sunshine is so warm and growing so much hotter. It feels like you’re floating. So light and free. That prickling tickle in your feet is growing stronger until little fireworks set off across every corner of your body, filling you completely. The forest melts as the colors blend together in a dreamy painting.

Euphoria, as Shirabu finishes spectacularly, clutching your sleeping body close to him in a messy ending pose. The final winds of the dead storm outside sound like a rumbling applause for this sinful waltz. He can hear his own pants and your shaky breaths mix into a fading duet. Shirabu lets himself bask for a moment, resting, entangled with you.

Everything makes sense now. He completely understands why the bastard king forces himself onto Sleeping Beauty. He completely understands why your allure is much too exquisite to pass on. Shirabu pulls out and carefully removes the condom, collecting the white essence you bewitched out from him into a little package with a tie. Dangerous little princess, that you are.

Even though Shirabu now fully understands the complete story after careful examination, there are still a few lines Shirabu will draw. One, that man has still committed a very grave sin, being the first to sample your purity, stealing that away from Shirabu? Damaging your flesh and skin? Unacceptable, he thinks as he tosses the used condom into the waste bin. A complete low-life who doesn’t know how to cherish. Punishment will be due.

Shirabu returns to the bed where your unconscious body is still sprawled between bunched sheets. His blank eyes study your spread legs and puffy cunt that’s still quivering every now and then. He taps his index finger against your sensitive clit. As if it is a magic button, your body briefly trembles on command. As if you are ready to enchant another unsuspecting traveler into your safe little haven. A little bit of fluid leaks out from your hole, presenting itself seductively. Welcome.

Shirabu scoffs. And number two, you’ll be better off staying here with himself, your big brother. You’ll be safe here with a prince who knows best how to love you right, and give you the world. This is the way it should be; before you completely lose yourself into degeneracy and invite just about anyone into you.

Those sleeping pills will be insufficient for the long-run. A different concoction while you are still healing from your terrible trauma will be needed. A cocktail of sorts that will target different needs. Yes. Shirabu files that thought away, putting it towards the top of his to-do list. There’s so many things he has to take care of. Too much pain in this world waiting for him to don white robes and be out there.

“But you’ll always come first on niichan’s list,” Shirabu whispers, slipping your panties back on and pulling the comforters over your body. He’ll never allow you to be sullied again. You’ll stay here in this safe haven, like a little cottage tucked away in the forest. Dream here. Find happiness with the only prince you need.

The first rays of dawn begin to brighten the sky, shooing away the cloak of night. The first songs from the birds announce the arrival of a new day. The morning light filters through the windows of the room, spilling over onto the bed and your quiet, unmoving form.

Time to wake up now, sleeping beauty.

#shirabu smut #shirabu x reader #shirabu kenjiro x reader #hq smut #haikyuu smut #tw:incest #tw somnophilia #tw yandere #tw drugging #tw dubcon #tw noncon #the intoxicated collab #emi.freshtea #🍵.shirabu

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poohkeepsee · 3 years

Text

I was going through my AO3 bookmarks, and I wanted to organize them a little bit. These are my Dean/Cas canon-ish fic recs.

season 5

canticles by 2street2car Words: 10,311 Chapters: 1

“But you know something? If I couldn’t get you laid, at least I gave you a good first date.”feat: footsies at a Ruby Tuesday, stargazing, the recreation of an iconic "Dirty Dancing" scene (no, not that one—the other one), and practicing for When You're With A Girl.

FTBYAM MY BELOVED

post season 6

Someone Who's Feeling For Me by ellispark Words: 45,876 Chapters: 1

Dean sees her for the first time in nearly six years in some no-name town in Idaho, and it's panic at first sight.

Lisa Braeden, the one woman Dean ever actually had a shot at a real life with, back from where he buried her in his mind. And her hand is on Cas's arm like it's no big deal, like it belongs there. Cas, Dean's dorky, sweet, badass, angelic best friend, and he's just standing there next to Lisa and not moving her hand away.

Dean feels the jealousy rising, and it's not directed where he expected it to be. Because it takes this exact moment for Dean to realize he's in love with his best friend. He's in love with his best friend, and Lisa is looking at Cas like he's the best thing since automatic rifles, and Dean is utterly fucked.

post bunker

Sun Can't Set Until Nine by LeverDrift Words: 67,939 Chapters: 16

Cas moves into the bunker as his powers start to fail. Dean doesn’t know if the arrangement is as permanent as he wants it to be. He's also not sure why he keeps dreaming about his friend. All he knows is that he wants Cas to stay. Overall warnings: canon-typical miscommunication & Dean having self-hatred issues.

Life Skills by ilovehowyouletmefall Words: 26,052 Chapters: 3

After Metatron steals Castiel's grace, and Cas comes to live in the bunker, Dean spends a lot of time with him, sharing all of his favourite things. Dean can't help it if sharing things with Cas just makes everything better. Besides, it's Dean's job as Cas' friend to introduce him to the joys of human life. To teach him how to be human. And if one of the experiences they end up sharing is sex with women, well... that's just part of Dean's job as Cas' friend too, right? The desire is triangulated, the rituals are intricate.

Sam Stole My Boyfriend by sobsicles Words: 8,445 Chapters: 1

“Dude, you’ve been staring at me a lot lately, like even enough that Sam noticed. More than usual. So, like, what’s up?” Dean pauses, purses his lips and reconsiders. “What did I do?”

Cas knows that would be a perfect time to confess to Dean what exactly happened and what he was thinking. Maybe, Dean had some insight into the situation or even some kind of comfort to offer. But, the longer that he sat there, he realized that he could not tell Dean absolutely anything. So instead, for the first time, Cas fumbled.

“Um,” Cas mutters and abruptly stands. “Freckles?”

Dean blinked up at him as Cas pivoted and left the room. There was only one remaining option he had and unfortunately, it involved Sam.

Aching in the Absence of You by sobsicles Words: 95,090 Chapters: 10

Brittle and battle-worn, Cas looks at him over coffee one morning and says, "I need to go," and Dean instantly knows that he's not coming back.

He's not really sure how he knows it, but he does. It settles into the pit of his stomach, curling hot and tight like something he instinctively wants to tear out with his bare hands. He takes a breath, and it gets stuck in his throat, hitching there. It hurts, hurts, hurts when he finally exhales.

"Yeah," Dean says, "of course you do," and he nods jerkily as he looks down at his phone. He doesn't say goodbye. He doesn't look up from the screen when Cas gets up and leaves the room. He doesn't finish his coffee, or move for a long time.

By nightfall, Cas is gone.

'Communication' by JustAnotherSamlicker Words: 11,656

The same story told from two perspectives.

Dean bought a house and he and Cas fix it up.

Is Dean moving out? Is Cas moving in?

Should they just talk to each other already? (Yes they should)

Build a Home by domesticadventures Words: 20,102

After they save the world, Dean expects Cas to come back to the bunker with them.

He doesn't

season 10

The Most Important Thing by NorthernSparrow Words: 94,462 Chapters: 14

Jimmy Novak remembers nothing of the last six years. Reunited with his troubled daughter Claire, he's struggling to raise her on his own. The most important thing is to make Claire happy. But why does he keep having these dreams of wings, and of two men in a black car? (Canon-divergent from S10E11, when we first met Claire again and Dean was still struggling with the Mark of Cain. Takes places several months later).

season 12

Heroes for Ghosts by pantheon_of_discord Words: 42,922 Chapters: 7

Canon-divergent from 12.08

After Sam and Dean are arrested, Castiel is left alone and scrambling to find them. He knows they’re locked away in a government facility, and he’s still able to hear their prayers, but no matter how he tries Castiel can’t seem to track them. He chases leads and even attempts to hunt on his own, but Mary is AWOL, Crowley refuses to help, and Castiel’s options are running out.

Weeks pass, Castiel’s hope dwindles, and through it all Dean prays, keeping them connected. His voice is comforting, frustrating, and occasionally annoying, but in his solitude Castiel comes to cherish it. But then one day, without warning, Dean stops praying, and Castiel is forced to confront some uncomfortable truths about his feelings.

season 13

i want to do with you (what spring does with cherry trees) by sobsicles Words: 74,173 Chapters: 8

Dean keeps going back.

When he arrives, it's always to blooming flowers and a windmill in the background, not too far from a brook, the sun painting the plains.

He likes it there. He likes to stand in front of the makeshift urn and check that it's still where he put it, switching out the flowers when they wilt. He likes to listen to the sound of birds chirping, insects singing, the faint sound of water trickling in the distance. He likes to turn his face up and feel the sun on his skin, wondering if Cas would do the same if he were here, somehow knowing that he would.

He likes to talk.

There's never a response, but Dean feels the breeze rustle through his hair and watches the flowers bob when bees come to them and stares as the windmill keeps turning, turning, turning. And he imagines that Cas is replying—the windmill is the tilted head, the bobbing flowers are a gentle smile, the breeze is whatever words Dean wants to hear at the time.

Sometimes, it's almost like he's there.

Trial and Tribulations of Raising a Nephilim by Sickandtiredofyou Words: 14,910 Chapters: 6

Dean has far too much on his plate, losing his mom, his best friend and now being a single parent to a newborn nephilim.

In which Jack is an actual newborn instead of a teenager.

post season 13

dumbassery, denial, doing (the three d's to the destination) by sobsicles Words: 108,427 Chapters: 4

Freedom is just one adjustment after the next.

Cas hums again. "I think you already have. It's been months since everything settled. All that's left to do is...get used to it, and perhaps—" His voice stalls out, uncharacteristically, and his gaze roams Dean's face with intensity. When he speaks next, his tone is a little raw. "Perhaps what one does with peace is...whatever they want."

"What if I don't even know what that is?" Dean grumbles, arching an eyebrow in challenge. "'Cause I know damn well you don't just mean good food and a good bed and time in Baby, not simple wants like that. You mean—ya know, the big things, the wants we didn't get to have before."

"Yes," Cas agrees. "If you're not sure, figure it out."

"Easier said than done."

Reasons to read this:

Dean reads a story that ends like despair and his reaction is FUCK THAT

Cas wears Dean's hoodie

Jack is a toddler

The Jack and Claire sibling energy we deserve

Eileen being awesome and pulling pranks with Dean while Sam thinks she's an angel

Sam knows

YOUR HONOR THEY'RE IN LOVE

First Date by aeli_kindara Words: 8,968 Chapters: 1

“We should go on a date. You and me.”

Castiel wishes he could see Dean’s face. He wishes he had any idea what to say.

“I’m asking you out, Cas.”

Also known as the Dean Winchester makes the first move fic.

season 14

Broken Road by thegeminisage Words: 109,629 Chapters: 7

A 14.13 Lebanon rewrite. When Dean uses a wish-granting pearl to try and kill the archangel Michael before he can escape the cage in Dean's head, they instead wind up with a newly-resurrected John Winchester.

It's been more than a decade since John died, and a lot has changed: Mary is alive, Sam and Dean have what passes for a proper home in the Men of Letters Bunker, and they're living with angels. John doesn't know angels are real, he doesn't know about the fragile new relationship between Dean and Castiel, and most of all, he doesn't know that Dean said yes to Michael, or that Dean's plan to defeat Michael would send him to a fate worse than death.

Now Dean must contend with both his father asking questions he can't answer, and his loved ones learning about the darker truths of his childhood, all while constantly battling the archangel trapped inside him. But Dean coming to terms with his history may be the difference between this being the beginning of a journey—or the end.

post season 15

fools and pilgrims by lagaudiere Words: 31,904 Chapters: 2

Claire shows up at the bunker a day before Dean was planning to leave, with her hair cut short and a fresh tattoo on her left arm under a bandage. Chuck is dead, Jack has given up his godlike powers, and Cas is back from the Empty, which doesn't make it any easier for Dean to talk to him. Suddenly finding himself in a world without monsters, supernatural forces, or any need for hunters, Dean's solution is to go on a road trip. Claire tags along.

Dean-Claire mirror fic post Despair

what's missing is found (our souls can exhale now) by sobsicles Words: 27,403

It's not the first time Claire has ever gone missing. It is, however, the first time Kaia panics about it. Dean's dragged into the mess, but he soon finds that it's the best thing that could have happened to him.

canon(?) au (Hunters and Men of Letters)

Dean Winchester's Secret (Angel) Boyfriend by reluctantabandon, Winter_of_our_Discontent Words: 11,191 Chapters: 1

Dean Winchester isn't exactly a team player. So when he starts mentioning a new Hunting partner, Ellen and Jo Harvelle aren't sure whether they should be worried or relieved.

But they're starting to get the feeling there's something important Dean's not telling them about Cas...

Shot Through The Heart by peanutbutterjelly-pie (Aleakim) Words: 11,191 Chapters: 1

Dean is a hunter.

Castiel is a Man of Letters.

And even though they have to work together on a regular basis, there is not much sympathy between them. Castiel thinks Dean too brash and reckless while Dean in return sees nothing more in the other man than a rude asshole with an obsessive love for books and a truly terrible fashion sense.

But fate clearly has a funny way of throwing those two together over and over again.

And somewhere along the way feelings change into something neither of them would have expected.

#destiel #deancas #fic recs

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liliesoftherain · 3 years

Text

My Hero Academia Main 3 Boys x Reader

Ch. 20 A Fight in Hosu City

A/N: Anther late post, but at least I'm getting back into the groove(: Hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

When your party arrived in Hosu City it was sundown. Endeavor had assembled a small team of his sidekicks to accompany him on the trip, along with you interns, causing everyone to travel in two separate vehicles. The ride there was spent in silence, save for the few moments Endeavor had spoken about the parameters of the mission. Thoughts drifting back to what you learned as you exited the car, preparing yourself for what was to come.

“What exactly are we going to Hosu for?”

Todoroki had spoken up from his spot beside you in the backseat, causing Endeavor to glance at him through the rearview mirror.

“Hosu was the last area the Hero Killer was said to have attacked in-- based on what we have gathered, he will most likely still be in the city.”

“What’s still keeping him there?” You question without thinking, feeling taken aback as Endeavor’s attention turned to you.

“In the last seven cities, the Hero Killer has left at least 4 injured or killed. So far, in Hosu, he has only managed one injury-- just one. Assuming he’ll keep his track record, we’ll catch him.”

You involuntarily begin to think about your class representative; Iida had seemed a bit off these last few days, and you couldn’t blame him--not with everything that happened.

News about Ingenium spread like wildfire, as the media desperately tried to keep the latest coverage on the Hero Killer and his victims. With how much you knew Iida loved and looked up to his elder brother, the constant reminder must have been dealing a number on his mental health.

Wait, wasn’t Iida also in Hosu, for his own internship?

You stare down in your lap, playing with your fingers in hopes to get rid of your nerves-- you can only hope Iida will be alright, that he’ll stay safe.

Shaking the memory away, you spring back to the present; masses of people steer clear of the heroes, walking in a group down the street. As whispers begin to flood by, Endeavor made the quick decision to split the group up--you, Todoroki, and Endeavor, while the three sidekicks formed another--trying to dwindle the attention you’ve already received.

Besides the gaping stares from the public, there was hardly any activity in Hosu-- the peace much more prominent during this patrol versus the night before. Glancing around to look at the unfamiliar faces, you couldn’t help mirroring the smiles most of them held; the people were safe and happy, and you hoped it stayed that way.

Beside you, Shoto watched as you looked around the area with a smile, wondering just why your face held that expression. He too took in the sights around him, only being able to see normal people going about their business. You were pretty strange, but he had to admit you were pretty much naturally happy; he hadn’t really cared to notice too much before, but after the sports festival--after you gave him some support he never realized he needed--he found himself noticing more and more.

The same could be said for you, but it seemed you were noticing him for being someone that was somewhat similar to yourself; it wasn’t every day you met someone like you--a kid of a top pro hero, with a little bit of a broken past.

Someone who could understand you, even if it was just slightly.

Speaking of the trauma, Endeavor marched on with his head held high, and you felt the bitterness creep in.

A great hero meant nothing if he wasn’t a great person.

Todoroki bumped shoulders with you, and you tilt your head curiously in his direction. He just gave a slight nod, and even though you weren’t completely sure what he meant, you gave a wide grin back; thoughts of terror parents leaving your mind as you forced yourself to think back to the task at hand.

Unbest known to you, Todoroki had watched the smile slip from your face, and in attempts to quell the nervous thoughts--which, what else could you be frowning about--wanted to provide some reassurance.

Endeavor’s sudden stop had you quickly following suit, in an attempt to not run straight into his back, wondering the reason. There were still quite a few people amongst the streets, the stars starting to become visible as the night came to life. Before you or Todoroki could question him, you felt the tremors of the earth below.

‘An earthquake? What could be-’

Smoke rose from behind the buildings, sirens blaring towards the center of the city. No other words were needed, the three of you quickly rushing off to reach the destination--eager to understand what could be happening. Endeavor was nowhere near as fast as he was previously, most likely allowing you and Shoto to keep up with him in this real, unknown event.

This didn’t seem like the Hero Killer, according to all the news coverage on the villain, he acted in areas that would draw him the least amount of attention.

What good would he gain from causing a panic, smack dab into the middle of the city, do?

Once you were closer than you were before, yet not close enough to see what was happening, a buzzing from your pocket caught your attention.

Normally, you would’ve left it alone--seeing as how you had more important things to worry about, but the confusion on Todoroki’s face as he pulled out his own device had you doing the same.

“There’s trouble ahead! I’ll show you what it means to be a real hero, Shoto!”

Ignoring the pro, you opened a message from Deku, eyebrows furrowing as the only thing you read was his current location. You read the address and your heart began to pound--it stated he was in Hosu, not too far from where you were.

He wasn’t interning in Hosu, there could be no way he was anywhere near here. Plus, he never sent anything without an explanation, and knowing the way Izuku is, you would get plenty of it.

He wouldn’t be so, so vague.

Not unless he had to be…

“His location?” Todoroki mumbled, eyes growing wide as he came to the realization.

Quickly locking eyes, you both nodded in agreement before turning around and running the way you came.

“Hey, wait! Where the hell are you two going!?”

“An alleyway at 4210 Echo Street!” You shout back.

“If you finish with what you’re doing, or see any extra pros, send them there. I’m leaving you here to take care of this trouble, I’m sure you can handle it yourself.” Shoto adds.

With that taken care of, the pair of you make your way to the location, going as quickly as you can with the help of your quirks.

The crowd thinned out as they were trying to get away from the chaos, you could see flames rising higher than before somewhere over towards your right--getting smaller as you left them behind. When you couldn’t spot any more civilians--or heroes for that matter--you knew you were getting close. The unease you felt only grew, your heart pounding uncomfortably and not from fatigue.

You heard muffled words coming from one area, and you willed your legs to move faster.

‘There, he’s gotta be there!-’

The opening of the alleyway allowed you to see a man hovering over a person, who lay fallen on the ground. It was dark all the way down, no bright lights shining through, the only source of light coming from the fire from the distance, the moon, and the few buildings that were still lit up. The alleyway itself was pretty narrow, meaning there wouldn’t be a lot of chances to run away, or even hide, without leaving yourself open. Three bodies were scattered on the ground, yet what worried you the most was the large katana that was held, directly over someone’s head-

That was Iida, in less than a few moments Iida was going to be stabbed.

“GET AWAY!”

‘That scream-’

Without thinking, you wind-up your fist and aim a hardened beam of light right at his face. At the same time, a burst of flames shot out to your left, the warmth quickly spreading throughout your body.

The man jumped out of the way, dodging both attacks that were thrown at him. You grind your teeth, allowing your hands and arms to be coated with hardened light, ready to attack as needed. Shoto’s flames burned brightly out of the corner of your eye, but you don’t give yourself time to dwell on the fact he uses his flames. There were more important things to worry about right now.

Todoroki felt the same, trying to think of the best way to handle this situation, trying to make sure he can get everyone out safe.

“Midoriya, you need to give more details in times like this.”

You took your own moment to assess the situation, looking more closely at the ones sprawled out on the ground; Izuku, Iida, and a hero you’ve never seen before--must be a pro from the area. Deku was the only one without blood or visible injury on his body, yet he wouldn’t be on the ground unless he was forced to be-

You stare directly at the infamous Hero Killer as he stares back, a shiver running through your body at his intense gaze. What quirk could this guy possibly have--it wasn’t like Endeavor went into detail about it.

“Yea,” you nod in agreement, “we were almost too late to stop this guy.”

“Hakamata, Todoroki, not you too.” Iida spits out, his voice heavy with emotion.

“How- how did you both get here--wait, you’re using your left side, Todoroki?” Deku gasped.

“How did we get here?”

“I wonder that too,” you finish, “took us a moment to understand what the heck your message was about.”

“Yea, next time, try to send more than just your specific location.”

“But you aren’t one to send cryptic messages, not without good reason. That’s when we figured out something was wrong.” You speak as you crouch into a fighting position.

You bring both of your arms out in front of you, side-by-side, as you let out a large blast of hardened light. At the same time, Todoroki sends out a layer of ice from his foot, causing the Hero Killer to have to jump up out of the way, but also having to focus on dodging your attack. He managed to evade both, but as he jumped further away from you and the injured, it allowed Todoroki to raise the others off the ground on blocks of ice, and bring them closer--farther away from Stain.

“But it’ll all be okay!” You put yourself in front of the injured, staring determinedly at the villain.

“The pros will be here any minute!” Todoroki adds, sending another large blast of fire at Stain as he too stands in front of the others and right by your side.

“You’re just what they said you were,” he glares, “but you won’t be taking any more lives, Hero Killer.”

“Your terror ends here,” you agree, “we will stop you.”

“Todoroki, y/n! You guys can’t let him get your blood! I- I think he controls his enemies’ actions by swallowing it! That’s how he got us!”

“So, he ingests blood to keep people from moving?”

You crinkle your nose in disgust from Todoroki’s assumption.

“That explains the blades. We just have to make sure we don’t get hit, Shoto.”

“Yeah, we’ll keep our distance-”

Todoroki gets cut off as a blade gets thrown at his face, leaving a small cut along his cheek--his blood drawn.

“You have good friends, Ingenium!”

Stain rushes at you both, and you quickly jump in front of Shoto to create a light barrier, in hopes of throwing him back. Stain uses your shield as leverage, kicking off from it and jumping over you--blade angled to slice your back, and it would have if it wasn’t for the block of ice his sword lodge into instead.

You swivel your body, aiming above the ice with your arm encased in hardened light to try to backhand him. Stain jumps away, avoiding the blow, using the ice to flip into the air, grabbing onto Todoroki’s shirt.

“Shoto!”

He was too busy to notice a blade that was thrown in the air, sailing down straight towards him. You quickly maneuver away from the fire he used to send Stain back, and quickly shoot a beam to knock the blade far away from Todoroki and Stain towards the opening of the alleyway.

Back against Shoto’s side, you desperately aim at Stain while he cuts through a large mountain of ice that was sent his way. He was too fast, all you and Shoto could do was keep him at bay, while he monstrously dodged light and fire, while simultaneously cutting through ice.

You send beam after beam, only to let out a cry of pain as one of his throwing blades lodges itself deeply into your arm.

“Luminary!”

“Y/n!”

Deku couldn’t see much of the fight firsthand--the way he was lying on his back only amounted him to seeing the bursts of bright light and flames. But he heard your shouts of pain and he found himself panicking, he needed to move.

He needed to help, now.

Shoto took a split second to glance over, to see blood dripping down the side of your arm. He willed more ice to come and help block his right side--the side you were standing next to. He needed to cover you, to make sure you wouldn’t be in the villain’s line of sight.

You used both arms, even if your left was screaming in pain, and grunted out as you shot a large, curved beam into the air. It was as if you were sending a wave of energy, the light curving to look like a thick, glowing, gigantic boomerang--solid enough to knock into Stain and send him back over the ice.

“Just stop it.. Why are you all doing this? His fight is with me. I inherited my brother’s name! I’m the one that should stop him! THE HERO KILLER IS MINE-”

“You’re Ingenium now? Strange, the Ingenium I knew before never had that look on his face.” Todoroki grunted.

You extend your light in your hands, like a pole, swinging it at Stain. He just stepped on it, using it as a walkway to get closer to you, however, you quickly willed it to become intangible and he fell through. Getting knocked back as you shot a smaller, more compact beam at him, along with getting a barrage of flames from Shoto.

“You’ve got a dark side,” Shoto continued, breathing heavily, “Guess my family isn’t the only one.”

“Ingenium was a beacon of light to everyone around him, wasn’t he?” You question, desperately sucking in as much air as you could, “Isn’t that why you looked up to him so much, Iida?”

Your body was overheating, however, the cold air produced on Todoroki’s right side helping you to stay cool immensely yet you were sweating profusely; the water leaving your system only causing you to overheat even more--the blood leaving your body from your deep wound wasn’t helping either.

Todoroki knew he was in better shape, but he began to grow frustrated; how can he manage to get out of this one? The pros were taking their sweet time, and now you were already injured. If there wasn’t an odd number of people, he would’ve had the both of you grab the wounded and have fled. All he could do was keep the hero killer pushed back, hoping to find a breakthrough point somewhere.

Luckily, even as unlikely as it seemed, your quirks complimented each other--while both suited for long range attacks, yours helped with more precise and accurate shots, while he was your large field of coverage.

Hopefully that would be enough.

“Be careful, y/n! Todoroki!” Deku yells.

All the ice Todoroki had formed as a barrier was smashed into tiny fragments in an instant, Stains guttural voice breaking through to reach your ears.

“You blocked your own field of vision, against an opponent who’s faster than you--rookie mistake, kids.”

“Come get me then-” Todoroki grunts, cut off as two throwing knives were thrown straight into his left arm.

His flames immediately die out from the sudden attack, and you extend both arms out to send out blasts of light towards Stain.

One hits him directly, but your small victory falls short as he grips his hand around the beam and catches himself. The burning of his skin can be heard from below, yet he wastes no time in throwing a blade at you before falling through the now untouchable light, raising up his katana as he heads down towards Shoto, blade raised high to strike.

“You’re good kids, unlike him.” Stain grins sadistically.

The smaller blade lands right in the shoulder of the same arm he cut before, causing you to become distracted by the pain. Shoto’s arm dangles at his side as he desperately watches Stain get closer, until his body angles away from Todoroki, over you, then over the pro hero on the ground.

“Watch out!” Shoto shouts desperately.

You try to do something, but Stain was moving too fast--you wouldn’t make it.

Maybe you wouldn’t have made it, but someone did. A blur of green energy flies by, causing you to sway at the force.

“Izuku!”

“Midoriya!”

Deku grabs onto Stain, somehow freed from the quirk he was placed under, and drags him against the alley’s wall; the cement crumbling from the impact of Stain's body sliding across it.

“I’m not sure why, but I’m able to move again!” Izuku yells across the alley.

“So he’s got some sort of time limit?”

“No,” Native answers Todoroki, “if that’s the case, that kid should have been the last to be freed. I still can’t move a muscle.”

“It has to be something about multiple people then; it could be that he gets weaker the more he uses his quirk.” You gasp out, clutching your arm.

Izuku falls, Stain landing behind him as they touch the ground. You go to yell out for him but Todoroki beats you to it, sending out a large pillar of ice to separate the two. You feel yourself leaning closer, enjoying the way it cooled you down.

A small stream of steam rose from your body, your body temperature steadily rising. You weren’t near your limit, but the blood loss was speeding up the process, and you were nervous on what would happen if this were to drag on for much longer. Thankfully, you were situated on Shoto’s ice side, which was helping--even if just a smidge. But it wasn’t enough, this fight needed to end, quick.

Izuku crawls over to you, coughing as he squats beside you, still a bit too sluggish to stand fully upright at the moment.

“He swallows people’s blood to freeze them, yet I was the one who was freed first.”

“People limit? Blood type?” You throw out the ideas.

“Yea, either his quirk becomes weaker the more he uses it, or even the amount ingested could play a part. Or, like you said, blood type.” Izuku mumbles, eyes calculating as if he was running all the possibilities through his mind.

The victims of his quirk list off their blood type, just in case it could be the last suggestion, and you find out both you and Izuku share your type--type O.

It was a long shot, but those were the only things you had in your corner right now. You needed to think of a way to get everyone out of here, to make sure they got out safe. Both you and Todoroki were bleeding pretty heavily, but not enough for dire medical attention. As long as there could be a defensive position, you should be okay for now.

Stain was just so strong.

He excelled in both offensive and defensive skills, constantly countering your combined attack as if it were nothing. You would need to have a good offense/defense play if you wanted to have a chance.

The way Deku flung Stain around, which you were still in awe over by the way; it was like he embodied his quirk overnight, it was a clear choice that he could help offensively. Yet was that really the right choice? You guys could probably end up fighting him all night. Weren’t the pros supposed to be coming soon? But there was a panic in the middle of the city, who knows how long that would take them. How long could you all hold out until exhaustion or blood loss?

“It doesn’t really help us to know how his quirk works, though.”

“I thought we could hurry and carry those two out of here,” Shoto sighed, “but it’s no good--he’s too fast.”

He was too fast, even if you all tried to run off, he would only chase you down. You would need some sort of barrier, some sort of distraction--

That’s when it hit you, your face immediately snapping to look at the boy to your left.

“What if there was a way?”

“What?” Deku calls from your right.

“Listen, he’s too fast, that’s for sure. But if there was a way to distract him--we may have a way to get the others out to safety.”

“What do you mean-”

You snap your face to look at Izuku midway through Todoroki’s question.

“If one of us would be able to distract him, the others can get out safely and get to the pros, right?”

“Yeah but-”

“If I allow my body to become light, I’m faster than him. I can get close enough to him, then I can keep him at bay with a light barrier or something while you both run to get those two far away from here.”

“No,” Todoroki frowned, “absolutely not.”

“There’s no way we’ll let you do that,” Deku agrees, “What happens when you turn back? You’ll be all alone with him, and at that point, he’ll be able to hurt you since he can now once again be able to physically touch you--and that’s if you don’t pass out from water loss first.”

You grit your teeth, you know they were right, but what else was there to do?

“Does it matter if you guys are all safe-”

“Yes, of course it matters.” Shoto raises his voice, surprising you.

“We’ll do this together, okay? You both have already lost too much blood... The best way to do this is to have me to distract him with close combat, and you both support me from behind. We can hold him long enough, just until the pros arrive.”

“Okay... While it’s still a big risk, we can do this. No one gets left behind.” Todoroki glances at you.

“We’ll protect them.” You agree, thoughts of self-sacrifice replaced with ones of protection.

“Together.” Deku affirms, standing tall as he lets his energy ride throughout his body.

You and Shoto match defensive poses, ready for the fight--ready to defend and conquer.

“Three against one, huh? This fight won’t be easy..” Stain mutters, dropping down to his own offensive position.

A moment of silence echoes loudly throughout the area, only to be broken as Deku uses his quirk to bounce off the sides of the buildings that surrounded you.

He gets in close, desperately fighting to land a hit on the villain. While Shoto uses his ice to defend him, you use large beams of light to act as a shield for him. You grit your teeth in frustration as Stain seems faster than before, his movements more fluid and graceful as he manages to evade every hit.

Desperation and distress clings to the surrounding area, both sides of the fight trying to get the upper hand. The intense battle has only been going on for a few moments, but to you it feels like forever.

Izuku gets in close to try to hit Stain from behind, only to have the villain kick him back; bringing his blade in close and managing to swipe at his shin. Staggering back, Izuku falls to the ground while Stain is upon him once more, the air around him more sinister than before.

It feels like it’s going on in slow motion, turning your head to see Shoto panting hard, clutching his shaking arm as he tries to raise it. In a panic, without thinking, you will your body to turn into light and race in front of Izuku.

You get a brief flashback of the USJ incident; you had done the same before when Izuku had rushed off, and was about to be grabbed by Shigaraki. You had thrown him out of the way, and put yourself into his position. Thankfully the pros were there to stop the villains before it was too late, but there weren’t here now. You were here, you needed to act.

Help him.

You stop directly in front of Izuku, creating a small, thin barrier of light behind you which surrounds him, and send off a large blast at the villain point blank. Stain, not suspecting you to be right there, was caught off guard as you managed to land your first real hit on him all night. Flying back, a barrage of fire kept you and Stain separated, separate shouts of your name went through your ears without comprehension, You were now swinging your fists repeatedly, sending attack after attack to keep him back. Through the flames you spot Stain licking his sword, and in turn Izuku grunts behind you, and that’s when you knew he'd been rendered immobilized.

The sweat pools down your body, fatigue from the overuse of your quirk catching on as you had expended plenty of energy by converting your body into light. So much so that when you clip Stain with a bolt of light in his side, you don’t see how he manages to use that momentum and flings a knife straight at you, slicing your cheek.

The light that had surrounded Izuku vanished once you lost focus, unable to dodge the hero killer further as he grabs on to the front of your hero costume, and leans in to lick your cheek. You try to convert your body into light once more, to turn up the heat, anything, but you’re too slow; the slimy feeling of his ridged tongue swipes across your face, and you aren’t even given a moment to grimace as your body immediately freezes.

“Y/N!”

Your body was shutting down, despite yelling at yourself to move, your body wouldn’t listen. Your legs give out, unable to hold yourself up without feeling, and you tumble harshly to the ground. Falling onto your side, you suck in a breath as your head smacks directly into the concrete. Stars enter your vision, black pooling at the edges as you try to blink away the feeling of passing out. You feel heat above you, and horror struck as you realize you left Shoto all alone to deal with the villain. Tears pool in your eyes as you try to move, you couldn’t leave him to defend everyone by himself!

Izuku was panicking behind you, watching you fall to the ground like a lifeless doll. He knew you were alive, the small groans of pain that came from you was proof enough, but it still scared him. He was able to see perfectly as Stain viciously grinned down at the pair of you, and thoughts of seeing you getting stabbed caused his heart to twist, breaths coming out in short bursts.

Thankfully, fire and ice separated the pair of you from the villain, and Stain in turn focused all of his attention on the only one still standing. Your head was angled just enough to see Todoroki, despite all of his ice in the way. He looked frustrated, yelling out something to Iida as he continued his defensive attacks; he was holding his own well enough, until Stain was able to bypass his field of ice and lifted his sword to aim right at his torso.

“Has anyone told you, you rely on your quirk too much? Makes you a carless fighter!” Steins ruthless words echo dauntingly in the alleyway.

Fear weighs on you as the blade inches closer and closer--if it lands, it would just about cut his arm clean off. The beating of your heart pounds in your ears, till all you hear is a white noise--the sounds of your own screams not even registering as all you could do was watch.

“TODOROKI!”

“SHOTO!”

“Recipro BURST!”

A strangled cry of relief leaves your lips as Iida uses his leg to slice the sword in half, saving Shoto from a terrible fate. Iida manages to send Stain flying back, breath heavy as he stares at the ground.

“You’re free too? Guess his quirk isn’t as great as we thought it was.” Todoroki hums.

“Todoroki, Midoriya, Hakamata--this has nothing to do with you. I apologize.”

“Not this again.” Deku whispers.

“Iida, please-” Your plea gets cut off as Iida stands proud.

“I’m okay, but I won’t let the three of you shed any more blood for me.”

You hear Stain’s wicked laugh as he tells Iida there’s no use in pretending--that a person can’t change in a span of a few minutes. Shoto spits back at the villain, telling Iida he shouldn’t listen to anything he says, while Iida shrugs him off.

“He’s right, I don’t deserve to call myself a hero,” he clenches his fist, and you gasp at the blood that runs heavily down his arm, “even so, there’s no way I can back down. If I give up now, then the name Ingenium will die.”

“PATHETIC.”

Shoto puts himself in front of Iida, sending off a blast of fire as another battle breaks out. You grit your teeth in frustration, desperately wanting to help. You hated not feeling like you could do anything; she whispers in your ear, calling you worthless and pathetic, and the fear kicks in double time. You weren’t proving her wrong, you weren’t proving anyone wrong. You were worthless-- you couldn’t even save your friends; you were weak, you were no good, you were--

“Hey, you did amazing.”

Her voice stopped, the harsh words going away as you locked eyes with Izuku’s bright green ones, a smile on his face. He gently, and quietly, lifted your body up and placed you sitting up along the wall; it was a more comfortable position, and you felt the tiny aches in your body lessen as the pressure released. He brings a thumb up to your cheek, wiping at the blood and sweat to try to clean the cut on your face as he speaks.

“Amazing, but you overdid it-- you’re sweating way too much. Just rest here, you’re going to be okay. I’ll protect you.”

The determination and fire in his eyes make your heart flutter--his grin a beacon of hope. You trust him, one hundred percent. You smile sweetly back, hoping he understood just how much you believe in him.

“Yeah, be careful, Izuku.”

He shakily stands, leaning on the wall above you for support as he determines the damage done to his body. Your eyes filter down, and you see how purple and swollen his leg is--his quirk must have broken it.

He doesn’t let that stop him, his body glowing as his power surges through him, and he pushes off towards Stain. Simultaneously, Iida attacks him on the opposite end, both able to land devastating blows to knock him back. Todoroki countered, sending a large flame to the killer while Iida had given one last solid kick--effectively knocking him out.

Shoto’s ice imprisoned Stain while also bringing both boys towards his direction, and he yells out for them to stand and fight, before he notices the hero killer is unresponsive.

Your finger twitches, catching your attention as you feel your body slowly regaining feeling. The feeling was weird, like white static filtering through your body; like what happens after you’ve been sitting one way too long and your limb falls asleep, once you move it that tingling sensation is overwhelming.

Trying to stand was a pain, you let out a huff of breath in annoyance as your legs wobbled. Once you were upright and stable, you shakily made your way over to the three boys.

“He’s got to be knocked out after all that, right?”

“Then let’s restrain him and get him to the street.”

“Maybe we can find some rope nearby?” You question, only for their heads to snap over to you.

“You’re up and moving, good.” Todoroki sighs, shoulders relaxing as everyone seems to be safe.

“y/n!,” Izuku grins, “good thinking, hopefully there will be something to tie him up with. We should probably take his weapons too.”

“Good idea.”

You force Izuku to sit down next to Iida despite his complaints, and you go to try to find some rope. Iida quickly stands, undeterred by your words as you insist he should rest and goes with you to the trash bins to help look.

“I need to help out, in any way I can.” His voice was thick with emotion like before, but this time it was less angsty, and more sorrowful. You allow him, knowing that he must be beating himself up on the inside.

“Hey Iida?”

“Yes?”

“I'm sorry.”

He stares at you bewildered, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Hakamata-”

“I should’ve been a better friend… So I’m sorry.” You speak softly.

Iida bit his lip as his gaze lowered.

“I should be sorry; if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

You nudge his shoulder with your own, careful to not agitate either his nor your own wounds.

“What are friends for?”

The shared smile was enough for the both of you, and you quickly went to work searching for rope. You pulled out a long piece from the dumpster, and laughed in triumph. Shoto had gotten Stain down from his ice wall, and brought him over towards the both of you as he finished removing all of his weapons. Handing the rope off to Shoto, he quickly got to work on tying him up. You see the Pro Hero now moving around, lifting up Deku by giving him a piggyback ride. You smile, grateful Izuku wouldn’t have to put too much pressure on his broken ankle.

“We’re lucky someone threw this in the dumpster.”

“What are the odds, huh?” You chuckle.

“Todoroki, I can drag him from here!” Iida shouts.

“Are you forgetting your arms are messed up?”

“Yeah, it’s okay Iida. Just rest please.”

With a sigh, he reluctantly agrees, and you all make your way out of the alley towards the street and stand on the sidewalk.

“Hey!” a shout makes you all jump, looking across the street, “what are you doing here, boy?”

“Gran Torino!”

Looking back and forth between Deku and the man, you end up gasping as he flies over, kicking Izuku straight in the face.

“Who’s this?” Shoto asks, unfazed.

“Gran Torino, the hero I’m interning with…” he trails off, looking back at the hero, “I don’t get it, how did you find us?”

“I was told to come here, I have no idea what’s going on, but I’m glad you’re not dead, at least.”

More voices filter in, a group of pros rounding the corner all at once. One hero spoke up, uncertainty laced within his words.

“Endeavor told us to come here, but… children?”

The heroes begin to fret over your appearances, until one gasps out.

“Hey, isn’t that… the Hero Killer?”

“What?”

“I’ll get the police on the line!”

Standing with Shoto and Izuku, once Native had carefully set him back down, you look back as Iida calls out.

“You guys, you were all hurt because of me,” He bows, not allowing you guys to see the tears in his eyes, “I’m truly sorry… I was just so angry, I couldn’t see anything else…”

“Iida… I already said you didn’t need to apologize,” you sigh, biting your lip in sorrow, “I’m sorry; I didn’t realize how much pain you were going through.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry too, Iida. You were going through so much by yourself, and I couldn’t tell… Even though I’m your friend.” Izuku declares, just as emotional.

The tears start to fall down Iida’s face more rapidly, body shaking in silent sobs.

“Hey, pull yourself together. You’re the class rep.”

“Right…” He agrees with Shoto, rubbing his eyes with the minimal movement he had in his arms.

You let out a sigh of relief, your body cooling down naturally, slowly but surely. You weren’t steaming anymore, the sweat on your body already having been evaporated or dried. However, you were still scarily warm, feeling the effects of being dehydrated and overheated. All you had to do was wait for the ambulance to arrive, and then you could drink as much cold, mouthwatering liquid as you wanted.

The sense of peace that was returning to you immediately faded as Gran Torino shouted to get down. Your heart fell as you stared up a winged creature; one that looked like Nomu back at the USJ. It was huge--large wings protruding from his back as he swooped down towards the group. You see it heading straight towards you, and you try to grab onto Izuku to drag him to the ground with you, but it was all in vain. A large talon-like foot grabbed you, and because of the way you were angled when you were trying to duck the monster ended up grabbing your neck before hauling back towards the sky.

You choked, hands reaching up to try to pry the talons away from your throat, but it wouldn’t budge. White hot fear pounded at you as your windpipe was blocked, unable to breath or move in his hold. The scream came out garbled and distorted, and you encased your hands in light as hot as you could go. It didn’t affect him, even as the smell of burnt skin made you want to gag, it acted as if it was unbothered. Tears built in your eyes, lack of oxygen--along with the rest of your injuries--catching up as you stop thrashing about, your vision fading slowly.

Just then, the creature stopped midair, the grip around your throat letting up, letting you take in a shuddering breath before coughing.

“The word hero has lost all meaning in this society; this world is overrun by fakes and criminals like you who chase petty dreams!”

You look up in surprise to see Stain above you, bringing down a knife as he plunges it straight into the creature's head. Falling towards the ground at a faster rate, you feel his arm snake around your waste, pulling you tight against his chest as he takes the brunt of the fall.

“You must all be purged.”

You’re astonished, unable to understand what exactly had happened once the rough landing came to a stop. You’re now on the ground, Stain setting you down on the sidewalk before sitting up, crouching before you and the now dead creature. You let out a whimper of fear, the crazed look on his face scaring you more than the actual Nomu creature had done.

“Everything that I do, is to create a stronger society.”

The heroes behind you spoke about getting ready, how they needed to be careful now that he had a hostage, and the fact that you were that hostage hit you like a truck. Sweat from nerves rolled down your face, heart beating fast as Stain kept you down on the ground with the same arm he used to save you. You struggled, and in turn it only made him put more pressure, making it impossible for you to get away. You thrash around, holding in tears. This wasn’t the time to cry, you needed to find a way to escape--

Endeavor’s voice echoed in the air, and a switch flipped in Stain’s mind. He let you go, standing to face the number 2 Pro.

“Endeavor.. You false hero, I’ll make this right! These streets must run with the blood of hypocrites! Hero: I will reclaim that word. Come one, just try and stop me you fakes! There is only one man I'll let kill me, he's a true hero; ALLMIGHT IS WORTHY.”

The look in his eyes, and the aura he radiated, had everyone frozen in fear. He walked slowly over towards the pro, who looked more taken aback than scared, until he stopped in his tracks. The knife fell from his hands and his breathing slowed; did he pass out? What is going on?

You couldn’t stay awake to find out, as your adrenaline faded, so did your vision, and finally you gave in; collapsing back letting your eyes flutter close as you passed out on the cold ground.

-----

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plasticnightmaredoll · 3 years

Photo

This is an idea/scenario I’ve had for a good while now pertaining to Arkham Knight Riddler. I don’t know if it’s any good -- it may be too “fluffy” to be in character -- but I wanted to write it down and get it out there, see what people think. Ironically, the idea came from a similar one involving Telltale Riddler, and I may post that one someday, too, but this AK Riddler one is...very different. Different in regards to a lot of headcanons, imagines, drabbles, etc. about him.

So, the scenario is like this: Someone wants to fuck with this poor guy -- not Batman, not one of the Bat family, not even one of the Gotham Rogues. It could be some random new villain, someone who is maybe more sadistic than any of the Rogues (save for Joker). I thought about this antagonist kidnapping AK Eddie’s s/o and holding them hostage …

But with a twist.

Catwoman has nothing to do with this because she’s not evil, but I thought about the explosive collar Riddler put on her in Arkham Knight, and what if this antagonist -- to really mess with Eddie -- decides to put such a collar on his s/o? And Riddler has to show up and complete some tasks (dangerous puzzles and riddle-based traps most likely), or else, his s/o loses their head.

Of course, Eddie shows up because he’s panicking. This was never supposed to happen! Nothing was supposed to happen to his s/o. This is beyond anything Batman had ever done. This is so sinister, so vile, so abhorrent, Eddie can’t even begin to comprehend it. At first, he bargains, offering money, tech, robots, his hacking skills -- even offers himself up to wear the collar instead because he can’t take the sight of his beloved wearing something that could blow their head right off, right in front of him, and leave him emotionally and mentally broken for life.

But the antagonist doesn’t want to bargain, even when Eddie begs -- like, really begs to the point of tears, asking for mercy and pleading with the antagonist to let his s/o go free. They have nothing to do with any of Eddie’s work. They’re innocent, and they’re too important to him! He can’t let this happen!

The begging amuses the antagonist but once again, it’s not enough. Eddie has to do the challenges, and if he completes them all correctly, the collar comes off. If he messes up, then his s/o dies. Eddie reassures his s/o that everything will be just fine, he’s got this under control, they’ll be out of trouble in no time so don’t be afraid.

It’s difficult to not be afraid when you have a bomb around your neck and a sadistic psychopath with the trigger. As bad as Eddie can be, he’s not THIS malevolent. He has some humanity left in him. But this person, they’re just out there to make him suffer because it’s “entertaining” to watch him squirm.

As you know, by this point in his life, Eddie is very mentally unstable and could have a mental breakdown if pushed even just a little too far. His s/o is the only thing keeping him grounded, the only reason he has to keep his sanity (or what’s left of it), and this is the only person who has ever cared for him despite the fact he knows he’s not worth it. If he loses his beloved, then what would he have left? There would be no recovery from such a thing.

So, Eddie completes the challenges, although he is internally freaking out the entire time, partly because he doubts himself and partly because he has no idea if the antagonist will just press the trigger and kill Eddie’s s/o without warning. By the time Eddie is done, he’s a nervous wreck and on the verge of a breakdown, but he hopes that, by enduring all this, by letting this person watch him squirm, sweat, beg, cry, and panic, that maybe it’s enough to end this madness without his s/o dying.

But the antagonist doesn’t care that Eddie completed all the tasks. In the end, it’s about making Eddie suffer horribly because watching a nearly broken man finally break -- shatter -- is the point of all this. So, the collar has a 30 second timer set, and as it counts down, Eddie obviously freaks out, hyperventilating as he tries to plead once again for his s/o’s life, offering himself up again in their place, and yet, it’s not enough (kind of reminding him how he was never enough for his father, even if he agonized over pleasing him). The antagonist just laughs at Eddie’s mental breakdown and tells him he better use the remaining time to say goodbye. And no funny business. If Eddie or his s/o attempt to remove or disarm the collar, then it will detonate.

Eddie’s s/o, despite being terrified does their best to put on a brave face and they tell him it’s ok, it’s not his fault, just don’t look, look away, it will all be over soon, he has to keep going for them...Eddie doesn’t know what to do, and seeing as he now has 10 seconds left, he does the only thing he feels he can and should do, and he grabs his s/o despite their protests and holds them tight, crying and saying over and over how sorry he is, he’s so sorry.

And the timer reaches zero on the collar.

There’s a soft click.

Then nothing.

No explosion.

The antagonist bursts out laughing, confessing that the “bomb” is a dud, was never going to explode, and since both Eddie and his s/o were too distressed to think all this through, they never even considered this as a possibility. The collar has been unlocked and Eddie’s s/o just kind of sinks to their knees in complete shock, and he can’t believe what he’s seeing. At first, he’s confused, wondering if this is all some sort of twisted dream, then he’s relieved because his s/o is safe, then he’s angry because what the hell was this?! He vows to get revenge on the antagonist and throws the collar away as he all but screams in rage.

Now alone, Eddie remembers his s/o is still on the floor, pale as a sheet and unresponsive. Kneeling down, he asks if they’re ok, tells them they’re ok, that this was all some sort of sick joke. When his s/o snaps out of their daze, they get mad and push him away, yelling at him for being so foolish

“You were just going to let yourself die with me?!” they demand.

“Yes!” Eddie responds, too overwhelmed to even know how to respond to this.

“Why? Why would you do that?”

“Because!”

“WHY?”

“Because I can’t go back to my old life! Not having known you! You think that I would just sink back into my old routine without a hitch? You think I would forget you? You think I’d just move on and live life normally? How could I do that? How? If I lost you, I’d have nothing, do you understand? Nothing. My life would be empty, more so than it’s ever been, and nothing could fill that void, not the way you do. No one has ever loved me, not even those who were supposed to! But you, you love me! I didn’t ask for it, and I don’t even deserve it, but you love me anyway. You make me feel valid, you make me feel like...like I exist, like I actually matter.”

His s/o is crying, and he’s crying, and they’re both going to be emotionally traumatized for a while. Sure, Eddie will get revenge but he’s also going to be having night terrors -- nightmares would be much better than what he experiences at night -- about his s/o dying in gruesome ways while is helpless to do anything. Sometimes, he won’t even be able to sleep because he doesn’t want those ghastly images in his head, and he’ll stay up holding his s/o as they (try) to sleep (they have nightmares of their own after this experience).

He has to come to terms with his first real encounter with the threat of loss, a real loss. He never cared about anyone before because no one ever cared for him. He was used to being ignored, bullied and belittled, and he always had trouble trusting others because of how he was raised. He never had friends, never thought he would need friends because, well, he never had any. Forming emotional attachments was beyond him, as he never had such a relationship with his parents, and that is the first time children are supposed to experience attachment. If your parents don’t love you, you grow up feeling unloved, alone, and don’t understand what it’s like to be close to people, so you just push everyone away and look out for yourself. It makes you selfish just as much as it makes you feel lonely.

But now, Eddie has his s/o, someone who just kind of barged into his life and stole his heart despite his best efforts to not feel anything sentimental because being vulnerable meant he could get hurt, and he didn’t like the idea of forming an attachment only to have it ripped away from him due to the other person’s betrayal. In his eyes, love equals abuse, since that’s the only kind of “love” this Eddie seems to have ever experienced.

It’s going to take a lot of time -- and patience -- for Eddie to deal with this, and he’s going to be watching his s/o like a hawk. They won’t be allowed to go anywhere alone, and definitely not at night. He’ll be very clingy, protective, maybe a little possessive but mostly protective. When he does eventually find a way to calm down, it will actually make him a stronger person emotionally, I think, because he will understand himself better, and he’ll understand the relationship he has with his s/o better. This experience has taught him -- in the most insane and unwelcomed way -- why his s/o is so vital to him, and while attachment like that is almost frightening because of the risk of loss, he doesn’t want to go back to his old life and be alone, being seen as some sort of joke by everyone in Gotham. He doesn’t want to go back to being isolated, left with only his thoughts to comfort him despite his dwindling sanity and self-esteem. He needs to have a reason to press on, and trying to be better than everyone just won’t do it anymore. He needs to be loved, loves to be loved, but is also thrilled to be able to give it in return, whatever the risks may be.

And you know the antagonist is going to be utterly destroyed by Riddlerbots. Or something. Something awful will happen to that person. We know that much.

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

Ugh, so let me know what you guys think! This is way out there in left field in terms of portrayal of Arkham Knight Eddie (or just Arkhamverse Eddie in general) but this idea has been stuck in my mind for so long now. Feedback is definitely encouraged and appreciated here because this is such an epic and crazy h/c. Constructive criticism is welcome. Just don’t be mean, please.

#arkham knight riddler #arkhamverse riddler #edward nigma #riddler #the riddler #edward nygma #riddler x o/c #edward nigma x o/c #riddler headcanon #riddler imagine #riddler h/c #edward nygma x oc

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youngclaire · 3 years

Text

One Last Final Goodbye

I rewrote sending Claire back through the stones at the end of book 2 but from Jamie's POV. I thought it would be a nice way to ease myself into writing these two. This is very book compliant, I actually bad the book open next to me whilst I wrote this in order to translate it from Claire's POV to Jamie's and it was a lot of fun. It's not a copy of the fuller chapter, it's been shortened down in places but the essence is there. I've also removed bits and pieces. Uhh yeah...all dialogue in this belongs to Diana and the book I'm just responsible for remixing the words. Anyway, I hope whoever bothers to read this likes it :)

(This is also my first fic in this fandom with these two so don't expect it to be perfect, it probably isn't)

- - -

He wouldn’t stop for anything; not food, water, or rest. He keeps the horse at a constant gallop at all times, scared that if he paused or hesitated for even a moment he would lose all courage and go neither back or forward.

I shall see my wife safe, is a mantra that keeps him riding. If he is to die tonight or on the battlefield tomorrow, he would not take her down with him; not her or the innocent being she carries inside her.

The stones come into view just above him. A cursed salvation of granite and Jamie tries not to see them, his gaze fixated forward. Behind him, Claire lets her displeasure be known, protesting against the idea. Jamie steels himself against them, clenches his jaw and gallops harder, fighting the urge to give in. This was the only way to see her safe and unharmed, he tells himself.

She protests still, even while he urges her up to the ruined cottage. She doesn’t realise he has no intention of parting with her right now, he just wants time to breathe, to think, to let the panic and worry abate. He sinks to the ground, his body cold and his mind racing.

“It’s alright,” he thinks he hear himself say. “We have a bit of time now; no one will find us here.” He shivers, though from the cold, and wraps his plaid around him.

God, he could still see it; Dougal’s lifeless eyes, the blood pooling out of him, the shock on Willie Coulter’s face. How long before everyone knew? How long before everyone found out he had committed familicide?

Jamie’s head falls forward onto his knees, a tiredness washing over him, fatigue clutching at his bones and eyelids. Tired as he was he could not sleep for fear of the images in his mind’s eye.

His breath comes out in ragged pants and he can barely stand the sound of it. He feels Claire’s warmth and presence beside him, uses it as something to anchor himself to.

What happened in that room and who knows wasn’t the priority, while Claire had yet to explicitly say so Jamie’s fate waited for him on Culloden Moor. Tomorrow he will die and all this will cease to matter. Claire will be safe.

His breathing eases back into its natural rhythm, the panic wilting away from the edges. He’ll take hold of Death’s hand, gladly accept his destiny knowing he did one thing right at last.

“I won’t go, Jamie,” she says, as if she’s read his thoughts. “I’m staying with you.”

Jamie shakes his head. She couldn’t persuade him, he couldn’t change his mind. He needed to do this.

“No,” he says. The firmness bites at him, makes him wince. He hopes she can hear the gentleness that lies beneath it. “I must go back, Claire.”

“You can’t,” she cries. “Jamie, they will have found Dougal by now! Willie Coulter will have told someone.”

Aye, that was a fact he had resigned himself to, a fact she must resign herself too as well. He grieved for Dougal, for the second father he had, but Jamie had done what he’d done- he would take whatever consequence waited for him behind that door. She talks of fleeing to France but it’s no use, he’s chosen his fate, set his heart and mind to it, accepted it. A traitor twice over, a rebel, a murderer…The English will hunt Prince Charles. The English and the clans will hunt Jamie. He was dead either way.

“Claire, I am a dead man.”

He watches the tears freeze on her cheeks. “No,” she says but the effect is lost, she knows he speaks the truth.

“I wouldna get very far anyway.” On its own accord, his hand runs through his red hair that makes him a beacon at all times. Not exactly inconspicuous. “I can save you, Claire,” With his other hand he brushes away the tears that continue to fall. “and I will. That is the most important thing.”

Then he will go back. If he finds he cannot do it for himself then he will find it in him to do so for his men.

“I think I can get them away,” he says thinking the plan through. “Even if it’s known what I’ve done, none will stop me wi’ the English in sight and the battle about to begin.” The plan visualises in his mind and he nods to himself. “I will bring them safely away and set them on the road toward Lallybroch.”

“And then?”

Well…wasn’t that obvious?

“And then I will turn back to Culloden.”

He lets out a breath, strong and final as his decision. He catches Claire’s worried look and gives her a smile.

“I’m no afraid to die, Sassenach,” he says, but then he thinks of that door, black and foreboding, the unknown behind it. “Well…not a lot, anyway.”

He hears a sound a human being should never be able to make as arms fling around him. He finds himself surrounded by Claire, caught in her tight embrace as the scent of her overwhelms him. He clutches her back, trying with all his might not to succumb and cry.

“It’s all right, Sassenach,” he says into her hair as she cries once more. “A musket ball. Maybe a blade. It will be over quickly.” A lie, they both know it, but Jamie will them both to believe it. He’s seen men die in battle, knows how horrifically slow it can be but it was better than waiting for the hangman’s noose, that would be the one thing that does not lie behind that door.

“I’m going with you.”

Lost in thought he barely registers it but when he does he reels at the notion, startling backwards.

“The hell you are!” He has a plan, damnit, and not even Claire will deter him from it.

She displays her argument but he will not listen to it, will not give it thought.

“No!” he says. “No, Claire!”

How could she suggest such a thing, knowing what they both knew? How could she be so selfish?

“If you’re not afraid, I’m not either. It will…be over quickly. You said so.”

You said so. What he said was a lie, did she not see that? A lie to comfort them both.

“Jamie- I won’t…I can’t…I bloody won’t live without you, that’s all!”

He had a thousand things to say and none at all. His mouth opens and closes before he shakes his head. Through the gaps in the ceiling he can see daylight dwindling, night approaching. The sky is painted red. Blood of a battlefield, blood of childbirth.

He reaches toward her, pulling her close. He knows where this fight comes from, if the tables were turned he would say the same thing, knows because he feels it too.

“D’ye think I don’t know?” His voice is soft, a whisper. “It’s me that has the easy part now. For if ye feel for me as I do for you- then I am asking you to tear your heart out and live without it.”

She lets out a whimper, clutching him closer. He fingers stroke her hair, whispering soft coos towards her.

“But you must do it,” he finally says, feeling his stomach twist and turn. “Ye must.”

“Why?” She is angry, considerably so. Confused and hurting. “When you took me from the witch trial at Cranesmuir- you said then you would have died with me, you would have gone to the stake with me had it come to that!”

He had said all that, and to this day, it remains true. He’d have rather died than to be parted with her.

“Aye, I would,” he says. “But I wasna carrying your child.”

The reason he is allowing them to part.

She is surprised, shocked, frozen in place as she looks up at him in bewilderment.

“You can’t tell,” she says at last, shaking her head. “It’s much too early.”

It makes him smile, brings amusement to him.

“You havena been a day late in your courses, in all the time since ye first book me to your bed. Ye havena bled now in forty-six days.”

She hurls insults at him, shocked he even managed to keep track of such a thing during a war but he had for hope they would have a second chance at raising a child and for fear that it would end like this.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” she tells him, rattling off reasons for why she might not have bled. It’s no use, she forgets he’s seen her so before, studied all the tell-tale signs of her body changing, committed them to memory.

“Claire…” His voice is quiet, not sounding like him. “Tomorrow I will die. This child…is all that will be left of me- ever.” He reaches for her hands, needing some part of her to hold. He casts his gaze to their joined hands, running his thumb over her fingers. “Claire, I beg you, see it safe.”

He keeps his eyes downcast while he waits for her answer, scared she’ll say yes, scared she’ll say no. The silence feels long and he shuts his eyes against the twisting of his stomach.

Finally her answer comes.

“Yes.” A whisper in the darkening cottage. “Yes. I’ll go.”

He nods, swallowing back the lump in his throat, hearing the sound of a flower stem snap.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

After telling her to sleep, she doesn’t sleep himself. Time seemed wasted on that and they didn’t have much of it left anymore. In a few hours he will take her to the fairy hill and part with her forever.

He wanted to rage at the unfairness of it all. To brandish his sword and yell and scream and cry but he knew there was no point to it. He knew that what he had been handed was more than fair, that not many men live the life he’s led and are allowed to be rewarded in such a way.

Lord, ye gave me a rare woman, he had said to her, quoting what he would say to God when he met him. God! I loved her well. He had, he could really say that. He took this woman, in all her unbated strangeness, into his broken hands and within her found company and peace, a place to call home.

She loved me well, too, he adds, watching her sleep for the last time. Content and safe, here in his arms and their fortress of cloth. He had healed him with her touch and love and perseverance. Picked a broken man off the floor and carried him through towards the light at the end of the tunnel no matter the setbacks. She really was a rare woman, his sassenach.

He wraps his arms tighter around her, murmurs a quick thank you in Gaelic to God and to the fairies for dropping her into his life.

Pressed against her, safe in their fortress of clothes, her skin warming his bones, his eyelids grow heavy and he succumbs to sleep as the first inklings of tomorrow break across the sky.

.:.:.:.:.:.

She was gone.

Disappeared in the same manner in which she had appeared. Gone through the stones and back to Frank.

Jamie presses his hand against the stone. The hard granite presses back on his wound, her mark, the letter C, reminding him it was real, she was real.

Her arisaid lies on the grass, forgotten in their haste to love each other one last time. Jamie picks it up, bringing it to his nose, inhaling her scent still lingering on the tartan. Tears fall on their own accord as he prays she made it back, prays that she and the bairn are safe.

A cannon in the distance booms, startling the birds and startling him. It’s beginning.

He is hesitant to move, to leave the place of their last coupling, his last connections to her.

Yet destiny waits for him on Culloden Moor, along with his men. He pictures the thirty men waiting for their laird.

There is nothing he can do for Claire now but there is something he can do for his men.

He kisses the inside of his fingers, presses it to the stone and bids his soulmate one last final goodbye.

#outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander fic #jamie x claire #jamie's pov #standing stones scene rewrite #i tried ok #and i am scared #im gonna go hide in a hole now #bye

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willadisastercry · 3 years

Text

The part where they try not to freak out: ‘When the Dust Clears’ pt. 2

tw: minor mentions on gore. this is very tame and not graphic at all, mostly just Lance hurt/comfort and Pidge being a smart ass.

The onset of another quake spurs the three trapped paladins into action. Well...? Really only Pidge. But without much from the barren ruins to go off of, she’s finding it difficult to macgyver her way out of this one. The water level is rising and the longer Lance goes without medical care, the more anxious Shiro is getting. Everyone’s resolves are dwindling with the threat of another quake that can occur at any moment hanging over their heads. How the hell are they going to get out of this alive? Good question.

This update was kinda short but stay tuned for the wrap up of this fic. It gets very harrowing and I’m not nearly done hurting Lance ;)))

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Shiro took his arm off Lance once the only thing still shaking was him.

The quake came on so fast that there wasn’t time to do much in the way of preparation, not that there was much to do anyway. But Lance was the only one missing a helmet so Shiro settled for gruffly pulling his injured teammate down next to him, shoving his head in the crook of his arm, and covering the top of it with his very human hand in an effort to protect him from any falling debris.

But the rumbling stopped before it moved anything significant. And when he finally shifted to inspect the damage, the pebble sized bits that he’d saved them from fell off easily.

Lance let out a few timid coughs against the dust that was stirred up, not having the energy to roll onto his back and shield his nose from the irritating particulates with how horribly his head was hurting. But the act of coughing and what it angered hurt his scrambled brain worse than the actual head injury.

“I don’t know if that’s the last of it, but I think it’s dying down now,” Pidge noted as she began pulling herself up from where she’d scrambled for cover.

“How do we know if that’s the last of the big quakes and these are just aftershocks?” Shiro asked, his face pinched with worry he wasn’t even bothering to hid anymore.

“We don’t. But I think we have bigger issues for the time being....” her gaze was glued on the bit of water dribbling from underneath a stone in front of her.

“Mmmmh—ugh,” Lance groaned. Words were hard to summon. His mouth was so dry he thought he might asphyxiate on his own ragged breathing if he didn’t clear his throat several times before trying again.

“D’it stop for you guys?” he inquired sluggishly, his voice hoarse and trembling.

“Yes...” Shiro noted slowly, his mind working over too many things at once to compute what that statement might have meant for a moment.

“Did it not for you?”

“Nope,” Lance strained through a shudder, his body shaking like he was cold despite the regulation of his paladin armor. His heavily battered paladin armor.

“Everything’s spinning now actually... the tilt-a-whirl kind...”

Lance’s eyes hadn’t stayed open long even after the dust had cleared. His hands weren’t working right to brush the gunk out and he’d be dizzy either way so he didn’t fuss about it.

“Do you want to try sitting up, maybe that’ll help?”

But they had gotten so heavy. And now that Shiro was looking at him he noticed he could hardly even blink without effort.

“Nah, s’okay... gonna sleep for a bit—“

A rough hand on his shoulder had Lance jerking abruptly, fear twisting his stomach in knots similar to the one throbbing on the side of his head at the thought that another quake had started before Shiro cut through his panic with a serious ‘hey’.

His leader voice was back.

“I was phrasing it as a question out of sympathy. You’re still not allowed to sleep and it’s not a choice, it’s an order.”

“Such a... buzz kill sometimes... know that, right?”

“Yep, wouldn’t have it any other way if it meant you actually listen to me when I give suggestions.”

“This is not... a suggestion... s’bullying...”

“Come on,” Shiro huffed in exasperation as he worked his arm out from under Lance who grumbled at the loss when that meant his aching head was now completely horizontal.

He wasn’t even sure he was still on solid ground with how aggressively dizzy he became after that, the rock floor beneath him shifting like it was melting and he was falling. Except he was well aware that he wasn’t.

“Up you go... thanks Pidge.”

The vertigo only worsened when a strong hand was pushing at his back while another tinier one tugged at his limp arm, their combined effort guiding his pliant body into a sitting position.

“I can handle Lance while you survey the area for anything that might be useful, the water’s rising fast so we don’t have a lot of time.”

Shiro’s hand remained firm on his shoulder when it was apparent he still didn’t have the ability to keep himself even semi upright without assistance.

“Useful how?”

“I don’t know, maybe something that you can shove under the rock to prop it up and use as a lever... something strong...”

There’s a groan of rubble crashing in the distance, displaced from the pressure of the tons of water pouring on top of it.

“Why don’t you get going, yeah?”

Shiro suggested when he saw how Pidge blanched and Lance winced at the sound, the minute vibrations that reached them jarring his brain once more.

“We’ll be right here when you get back,” he reminded with a tight smile.

“You’re seriously not nearly as hilarious as you perceive yourself to be.”

“I know.”

The landscape wasn’t littered with much in the way of useful materials. Mostly giant slabs of uneven stone from the pavilion that made traversing the debris field really annoying with only one hand for balance, especially when additionally trudging through rising water that made everything slippery.

“This is pointless,” she grumbled.

There was nothing useful. Aside from bits of rock that she could maybe jam on either side of Shiro’s arm to alleviate enough pressure for him to slide out once the water rose enough, but there wasn’t any point in lugging those back with her when there was plenty where the boys were.

A particularly slick stone had her heart rate elevating when she narrowly avoided taking a header. It only served to enervate her further.

“Pointless and treacherous...”

But as Pidge made her way closer towards the ruins from the building that got swallowed down with them, the crushed squabble of rubble started to pique her interest. There were actual items squished under large swathes of sediment instead of just more sediment.

The blue light of her suit glinted off of any bits of metal she passed by, though for a while it was mostly rebarb rods and plumbing pipes sticking up between rocks. But the more she spotted the more they got Pidge’s mind working.

It would need to be something smaller. Something that was already bent and not sharp. Something she could free with a few tugs.

She scanned the rubble with a renewed passion once she knew what she was looking for, the water lapping against her ankles as she made her way around the destroyed landscape an unpleasant reminder of what was at stake if she didn’t hurry.

The same couldn’t be said for Shiro and Lance who were sitting on a ticking time bomb. Well? More like in.

“Hey Sh’ro...” Lance whispered, his voice timid.

The wait for Pidge grew bleaker as the time droned on. Not that Lance could even really gauge how much had passed or focus on their impending deaths for long. The several inches of water beneath them was a good marker though.

“Yeah, bud? What’s up?”

They hadn’t done much talking. Lance had made it clear that even Shiro’s hushed voice made his head spin and so he only spoke when checking in every now and then.

“I didn’t...”

He watched carefully as Lance looked down at the water in his lap and shuddered. His breath catches in his throat before he can get his question out and Shiro’s blood goes cold despite the temperature regulators in his suit being in perfect order.

“What’s that?”

He takes as deep a breath as he can manage and averts his gaze.

“Know m’out of it... but I didn’t, right?”

Shiro begins to run through every field medicine fact he knows regarding brain injuries before he follows Lance’s eyes back down to the water lapping against his crossed legs and the several splinters in the lower half of his armor.

He stowed that away for later. That the dents ripped into Lance’s suit meant it was comprised. It meant that so was Pidge’s and so was his and their helmets wouldn’t do them any good because water was bound to get in anyway.

Just like water was getting into Lance’s now...

“Oh, shit you mean—no Lance, no you didn’t. That wasn’t you, it’s just some water from the pipes that broke.”

The sigh he let’s out is a jagged one but he seems to visibly relax at the confirmation.

“Kay... s’good. Was worried for a sec...”

Shiro has to close his eyes and breathe deeply for a second to keep from laughing. Or crying. He’s not sure which but either one would have been hysterical and he was certain that he didn’t want to indulge in that.

The literal only thing he could do was keep Lance calm and he was not about to comprise it by losing his.

Lance hums idly and it eases Shiro’s frayed nerves. He has to be righted briefly when he relaxes his arms and it sends him lurching to the side, but once he remembers himself and locks his elbows again Shiro offers him a terse smile of encouragement.

“Don’t have’t do that, y’know...” Lance grumbles in response.

“Do what? Keep you awake or keep you from splitting your chin open? Because you already know what my answer to both of those questions will be.”

Lance steels himself to turn his head and face Shiro. His eyes are bleary and unfocused when he does. It takes an extra minute for him to process what he’d just heard and another to put together his response.

Shiro’s frown somehow deepens at the realization that he’s getting worse and wonders if he’s already forgotten what they were talking about, maybe even the question he wanted to ask.

“I’m happy to remind you though,” Shiro decides on following up with, his tone gentle as he forces his wrinkled forehead to soften.

Lance hums again but this time it’s contemplative and his brows knit together in concentration.

“Pretend you’re not scared,” he drawls slowly, taking his time enunciating each word but still sounding slightly drunk anyway.

Shiro catches himself before he smiles, before he lies to Lance again.

Lance who is concussed and losing blood from several gashes on his face and head that are more likely to scar to longer he goes without a pod, but coherent enough to know that Shiro is bullshitting him and subtlety tell him to screw off.

“Alright,” he says instead. And this time Shiro allows himself to laugh.

The half of Lance’s face covered in cuts is undoubtedly numb and swelling from the bruises sure to be forming beneath all the blood, but he tries to smile anyway.

Shiro mucks his hair with a light hand far away from any patches of red and they fall into a comfortable silence as they listen for Pidge. It’s what feels like a mini eternity and another three inches closer to drowning before they finally hear her approaching.

“Pigeooooon,” Lance calls out.

“Present,” she mumbles exasperatedly.

Her hair is matted to her forehead with sweat and there’s a skinny pipe tucked under her trembling arm. Shiro would’ve told her to rest for a minute if she wasn’t already clutching a jut of upturned stone for dear life.

“What is that for? You’d need something a bit wider for a wedge...”

“Maybe I wasn’t shooting for a wedge.”

“Pidge this is serious.”

“I’m well aware, you don’t have to remind me—he’s going down.”

“Shit Lance,” Shiro gruffs as he yanks him up from where he was seconds away from falling face first into water.

“Sorry. M’awake.”

“Sure you are,” Pidge agrees sardonically as she kneels beside him and grabs his chin to look him over. His pupils are still dilated and his wounds are still dribbling spurts of bright red but the flow isn’t as heavy as before. At least blood loss won’t get him first.

“Hey, Pidge...”

“Hi, lover boy.”

The nickname elicits what can only be guessed was a sorry attempt at an eye roll but he gets distracted in demonstrating his contempt by what Pidge is presenting Shiro with.

“Mmh was’the tube for?”

“Ever seen the wonky mask that scuba divers use? Well, Shiro’s going to take an unprecedented dive today and this is the best substitute I could find.”

“Hold up—“

“Nope, you don’t get a say, I nearly busted my ass pulling this lose. Tube goes in your mouth. Pinch your nose so you don’t accidentally waterlog your lungs. And pray that the others find us before you have to do any of that.”

Shiro is silent for a long moment but Pidge doesn’t care. She’s too busy catching her breath and willing the fire in her arm to ease to give her stubborn superior any room for protest.

“I should’ve sent Lance.”

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lonelyreputation · 3 years

Text

C’est Toi (coffee shop au) • CHAPTER FOURTEEN, wc: 8.2k

previous chapter | let’s chat | C’est Toi Index

Wednesday - February 20, 2019 - 21:18

Shawn’s here. Like he’s in my dorm which is something I honestly didn’t think would happen. Since the first time I ordered coffee, I just imagined myself fawning over him from afar and watching my back account dwindle with how much I was spending on coffee as an excuse to see him.

But now I’m saving money on coffee, he wants to see me just as much as I want to see him, and he’s in my room.

WARNING: ALLUSION TO SMUT.

“I’m just saying––”

“I don’t think you should say anything.”

With open books and loose leaf paper scattered on top of the table, Ella and I were in a stare off. Her eyes were narrowed in on me and I gripped the pen between my fingers. For the last half hour, studying had been long forgotten on Ella’s end. She kept pestering me on what happened with Shawn and I after the soccer game on Sunday.

And I repeated the same sentence I told her not even five minutes ago.

“Nothing happened,” I dropped my pen and buried my face into my hands with a sigh, “We came here, helped Niall fix something with the espresso machine, and then just spent time together.”

With both palms flat on the table, Ella leaned forward and whispered, “Bullshit.” I leaned back on my chair, raising my eyebrows as I crossed my arms over my chest. She continued on, “He was literally about to leave without saying bye to you.”

Ella’s eyes softened as I broke eye contact with her and turned toward the door.

I slumped down in the chair, “He admitted he was jealous,” Ella’s eyes perked up at the information, “And he…I asked if we were okay and he said he didn’t know what––” I uncrossed my arms and lifted my fingers to put air quotes around the next word, “––‘we’ I was talking about.”

Ella’s eyes widened, “What?!”

I nodded my head slowly, “Yeah, it wasn’t––I tried to leave, he told me to stay, said he was jealous, admitted to liking me a lot, and then we ended up here; at Brightside…” My voice trailed off at the end.

Ella scrunched her eyebrows together, “That doesn’t make any sense––He says he doesn’t know about the ‘we’, but then says he ‘likes’ you?” Her eyes shifted from mine and glared over my shoulder, presumably at the person of topic, “He’s an idiot.”

I picked up my coffee to take a sip, but frowned when I was met with cool air instead of hot espresso. I set it down on the table and shrugged, “I don’t blame him.”

“Don’t you dare take the blame for him,” Ella shook her head, “He obviously knows there’s something between you two, so for him to say that––” Her glare at Shawn intensified for a second before looking sincerely into my eyes, “Want me to beat him up?”

I tipped my head back in laughter, “I don’t think that would work out in your favor.”

“Most likely not,” Ella shrugged nonchalantly, “But he’s dumb.”

I rolled my eyes and picked up my pen, hoping to get back to studying, but Ella closed her books and pushed them aside.

“You need to define your relationship with him.”

The pen I just picked up dropped and fell to the floor, “Define the––I don’t think I can be the one to bring that up––I still––Do you remember what happened when I asked for his name?”

Ella rolled her eyes, “But you know him now,” she exaggerated her next words, “it’s different.”

“I don’t think I could do it.”

Again, Ella leaned forward, “You have to––”

“What’re we gossiping about?”

Not expecting to hear Niall’s Irish accent, I jumped in my seat, with my elbow knocking into my empty coffee cup. It bounced a little as it fell to the ground, Niall bent down to pick it up, and then stole a chair from the empty table next to us, and then sat down next to me.

He rested his chin in the palm of his hands as he looked between Ella and I, “Hm?”

I shook my head and glared at Ella, “We were just getting back to studying––”

“I was saying how she needs to define her relationship with Shawn.”

“Ella!”

My mouth dropped as I whisper yelled at her. She just shrugged her shoulders and Niall held his stomach as he laughed. Once he calmed down and wiped a tear away from the corner of his eye, he scrunched his eyebrows together and looked at me.

“You’re basically his girlfriend.”

I shook my head and let out a sigh, “We haven’t talked––”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Ella cut me off once more with an eye roll.

I slumped further down in my chair, “But we’re not––”

“As he was leaving yesterday, I asked him where he was going, and he said––I quote,” He gave me a pointed stare with raised eyebrows, “Off to see my girlfriend.”

I blushed and looked down at my notes. I fiddled with my hands as Ella let out a loud ‘Ha’ as her way of saying I-Told-You-So.

Without acknowledging either of them, I went to flip a page in my textbook, “That doesn’t mean––”

Niall leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest, “Shawn calling you his girlfriend really pissed Lola off,” he smirked, Ella happily cackled, and my mouth dropped wide open, “She was in a mood for the rest of the shift.”

“We––”

“I’m telling you,” Ella reached across the table and closed my textbook, “You have nothing to worry about if you bring it up to him.”

I let out an annoyed breath and I ran a hand through my hair, “What is it with you two cutting me off today? You seem to be on the same wavelength.”

“Don’t change the subject,” Niall nudged my shoulder, “I know Shawn, and Ella knows you, so when you put us together…” he offered both Ella and I a blinding smile, “You get one wavelength about your relationship.”

I silently looked between them before letting out a dramatic sigh. With my eyes closed, I leaned my head back against the chair, “I wish it wasn’t this complicated.”

“It’s not.”

I peaked one eye open and glared at Niall for his response, “It’s not complicated to you,” I let out another sigh before running a hand through my hair, “But to me, it’s just…complicated.”

Ella took it as her turn to speak, “But why is it complicated?”

Yeah, I thought to myself, why is this complicated?

In theory, everything was fairly black and white; I liked Shawn and he liked me. We spent a considerable amount of time together, we both knew that the other wasn’t seeing anyone else, and I enjoy our silences just as much as the times he makes me laugh.

When he gently brushes the tips of his fingers against mine, before slowly slipping his hand into mine, it’s a feeling I never want to go away. The way he softly caresses my face, as he leans his forehead against mine, before he kisses me is another feeling I never want to go away. And the zip of electricity I feel down my spine when I hear him call out my name from behind the counter…His eyes soften, his shoulders relax, and he says my name with a little bit of relief.

It’s the same way I feel around him.

I never want that feeling to go away.

Nothing would make me happier than to call Shawn my boyfriend. But a real title meant a real relationship. And a real relationship came with commitment. And with commitment comes an extended amount of time you spend with a partner for the unforeseeable future.

Which is what made this whole situation so complicated in my eyes.

“My Visa,” I let my shoulders drop as I regretfully looked between the two people I’ve only known for about two months, but was already finding it difficult to picture my life without them, “I leave in June.”

The cheeky mood that hung around the air of discussing the possibility of a potential boyfriend quickly dissipated. It was as if they too also forgot I was only here for a few months, and not indefinitely.

Niall sucked in a harsh breath and Ella casted a look downard as she bit the inside of her cheek.

Niall drummed his fingers on the table, “He’s smitten,” Ella nodded her head in agreement, but knowing Shawn’s feelings toward me didn’t relieve the heaviness in the middle of my chest, “He…Just don’t think about that now.”

I whipped my head around to look at Niall with wide eyes, “Don’t think about it now?! How do I––That’s all I can think about.”

“Just be present in the moment,” Niall slowly nodded his head in reassurance that this was the best route to go, but his blue eyes were a bit more dull, as if he didn’t agree with his own advice, “Enjoy your time here.”

I shook my head, “I have a literal expiration date––”

“Maybe he’s right,” Ella’s voice was small, and I turned my head to look at her with the same wild look I had given Niall, “Just go for it. Don’t think.”

After a few beats of silence I let out a single laugh of disbelief, “You’re agreeing with him?” Ella’s only response was a small shrug of her shoulders. “Him––Niall? You’re agreeing that I pretend like I’m not setting myself up for failure?”

They both stayed silent. Because while they both wanted to see their respective friends happy…They couldn’t deny that this outcome would be earth shattering devastating for both Shawn and I if things were to progress further.

I shook my head, “I don’t think I can––”

“Don’t think you can what?”

Hearing another voice I wasn’t expecting––except this voice was Canadian––I felt myself jump more in my chair, a feeling of panic flooding every inch of my body.

How long had he been behind us?

But when I slowly turned around, the tension I felt in my joints melted away when I saw Shawn’s disheveled hair and a yellow cup with steam coming out from the top in his hands.

I offered him a lie that was as easy as the smile on my face, “Write this paper.”

Shawn rolled his eyes and, like Niall had done earlier, he stole a chair from the empty table and brought it around next to me. But unlike Niall, Shawn had set the chair down almost right up against my chair so we could sit as close as we could together.

“I saw your empty cup fall to the floor,” Shawn pushed the yellow cup of coffee in front of me, “So I brought you a new one.”

Even if I tried, I couldn’t hide the smile that overtook my face.

“Thanks,” I whispered as I wrapped my hands around the cup, and looked into it. I stifled out a laugh and looked up at Shawn, “That’s a nice flower.”

Shawn smiled triumphantly and nodded his head, “I’ve been practicing––”

Ella leaned over the table to look at the latte art herself. Her eyebrows were scrunched together as she picked her head up from the latte to look at Shawn, looked down into the cup again, and then back up at Shawn, “It looks like a cobweb.”

Niall barked out a loud laugh as Shawn’s cheeks turned red.

I glared at her, “Of course you wouldn’t know what a flower looks like––”

Ella’s eyebrows shot up as her soft accent rose in pitch, “I wouldn’t!” She pointed an accusatory finger at Shawn, “Because he only makes latte art for you.”

I was in the middle of taking a sip of the latte Shawn made for me when Ella hastily spoke. I set the yellow cup down on the table and shut my eyes as I coughed into my elbow. Once I felt like hot espresso wasn’t going to come up my throat, I wiped the wetness from the corner of my eyes and looked at Shawn.

He immediately looked away from me with cheeks even more red than before.

I glared at Ella. But she just raised her eyebrows in an I-Told-You-So manner as she leaned back in her chair. She was about to say something, but then the bell above the door rang, and all of our heads whipped around to see who had walked in.

It was a small group of university students with slightly hunched over backs from carrying their books and a look of strong desire for anything caffeine in their eyes. I didn’t miss the small sigh that passed through Shawn’s lips.

And it seemed as if Niall didn’t miss it either because he stood up and greeted the students with a––I’ll be with you guys in a sec––as he returned the chair to its rightful table. He clapped Shawn on his shoulder and said, “Take a little break.”

Shawn didn’t have to be told twice before he let his whole body slump forward on the table; head buried in his elbows. Instinctively, I brought my hand up and grazed the tips of my fingernails up and down his back. I felt him release a deep breath.

“Long day?”

Keeping his face hidden away, he nodded his head.

I looked down at him, and even though he couldn’t see me, I offered him a sympathetic smile. With his head tucked away, I didn’t know if he felt like talking, so I just kept lazily running my fingers up and down his back. I was about to pull a textbook toward me to read, but then I caught Ella’s stare.

She wasn’t either looking directly at me or at Shawn; she was more so looking at my hand comforting Shawn. The movement came naturally to me––I just wanted to make him feel better––it would make me feel better to see him at least a little bit relaxed. But the look in Ella’s eyes wasn’t her usual lovey-dovey know it all look she usually gave Shawn and I.

She looked somber.

Ella was the first person who I told every little detail about Shawn to. She was the first to know about my little crush on him, she was the first to know when I found out his name, the first person I told every little interaction––no matter how big or small––I had with Shawn, and she was the person I celebrated with when Shawn asked me out on our first date.

And there was no belittling Ella’s attempts at playing matchmaker either.

Ella had seen the very first encounter I had with Shawn, and she would most definitely be here to see my last encounter with him. I could see her brain churning out thoughts, debating with herself if she still thought it was a good idea to pretend like I didn’t have to legally leave the country in four months.

I continued to softly run my hand up and down Shawn’s back, but my movements had definitely slowed down a bit. I continued to look at Ella, who hadn’t caught onto my staring, as I saw her frown morph into a small bittersweet smile.

And for the first time since coming into Brightside today, Ella willingly opened up a textbook and started taking notes.

It was nearing closing time, the gray misty sky was now pitch black with street lights dotting the sidewalk, as Shawn and I were the only ones in Brightside.

Ella had silently left hours ago, claiming she had to practice a monologue in front of her mirror. And just like every time Niall’s shift was over, he clocked out right on the dot and ran out the door. Shawn ended up sitting at the table with Ella and I for close to forty minutes with his head tucked away. From the way his breathing evened out, I knew he had used the time to take a little nap.

It was only Wednesday, but I was sure Shawn had already worked a full work week already.

On Sunday, he worked the opening shift, came in to help Niall with the espresso machine after soccer, and worked up until an hour before close. Monday, he worked from opening to close. Tuesday––Yesterday––He worked the opening shift once again, and when we were at his flat watching a movie, he had to work until close because someone had called out sick.

And Wednesday––Today––Shawn had worked another opening to closing shift. And he was due to open the store again tomorrow.

Needless to say Shawn was exhausted and it was clearly catching up to him with the few times he messed up behind the counter.

Brightside hadn’t seen a customer in well over an hour, and Shawn did everything he could to complete his closing procedures early so he could leave right when the clock hit eight. I abandoned my school work a few hours ago in order to help Shawn with his closing procedures, in hopes it would help him clock out right when the store closed.

I climbed up and down the stairs multiple times to bring up stacks of cups wrapped in plastic, various sizes of black lids, napkins, and anything else Shawn rattled off to me. I helped with the easy tasks, but if there was something more specific, I would stand behind the counter for Shawn as he fetched whatever he needed.

There were only a few times when customers would waltz in, and were put off by my American accent, when I told them that the actual employee would help them shortly.

But that was nearly an hour ago, and now I was finishing off washing the last table on the main floor. There was only twenty minutes left until Brightside officially closed. And Shawn took it in his liberty to make it look like the store was already closed from an outsider's perspective.

“Is it really necessary to have all the lights off except the one above you?”

Shawn held a finger up to me, silently letting me know he’d answer my question the moment he was done counting out his drawer. I playfully rolled my eyes as I walked behind the counter to put the sanitation spray bottle in its spot under the sink. As Shawn was still busy double checking his count, I lifted myself up to sit on the counter.

And right as I fully sat down, with his back to me, Shawn said, “That’s unsanitary.”

I let out a soft laugh, “I’ll wash it again.”

The register made a noise as it printed out a slip of paper and Shawn ripped it off, scanning it over once, before turning his head around to face me with a soft smile, “You better.”

He collected the stack of money, deposited the coins in a yellow cup, and walked to where I was sitting on the counter. When he was right in front of me, he rested a hand on my knee and opened up my legs with enough room for him to stand between them.

“To answer your question,” his voice was mesmerizing, but I could only focus on his hand that was still on me, now tracing circles along my kneecap, “If the store looks empty and dark then people won’t bother coming in. And we,” he squeezed my knee which caused a smile to light up my face, “can leave early.”

I tilted my head, “Aren’t you afraid of getting in trouble?”

Shawn let out a tsk, “Not when I’m the manager.”

“Touché.”

He let out a small laugh and looked down at his hand on my knee. A soft closed lipped smile toyed at the corners of his mouth, but when he looked back up at me, I could see just how exhausted he really was. He kept having to repeatedly blink his eyes to keep them from drooping, his skin looked a little pale, the bags under his eyes were a tad more prominent, and his hair was falling a little flat.

I offered him a small smile in return and brought my hand up to run through his hair. His eyes closed and a content sigh softly passed through his lips.

“I just have to do my drop and then we can leave.”

With one last scratch to his scalp, I let my hand fall and his eyes opened, “Sounds good to me.”

He smiled again, “Be right back.”

In one swift motion, he kissed my cheek and retreated from my legs. I watched him as he took long strides toward the steps and walked down. With a smile still on my face, I hopped down from the counter, and kept to my promise of grabbing the sanitizing spray to wipe off where I had just sat.

Right when I threw the damp napkin into the empty trash bin, I heard Shawn’s footsteps, and soon I saw his mop of curls as he continued to climb the stairs. Once he was fully on the main floor, I could tell that he looked more relaxed bundled up in his soft pink hoodie and jacket, backpack over his shoulders.

“Ready?”

I nodded my head with a smile and went over to the table where I had set up shop since arriving a little before the lunch hour. Once my jacket was on and zipped up, I slung my tote bag over my shoulder and smiled at him, “Ready.”

At my response, Shawn took a few long strides over to me, grabbed my hand, and we left out the front door. We both shivered when a particularly cold gust of wind hit us, and I felt even colder when Shawn dropped my hand in order to lock the door.

Once he double checked the door was locked from the outside, he stuffed the key back in his backpack and picked up my hand, already leading us in the direction of the Temple Underground.

After a few steps of silence, Shawn spoke up, “You didn’t have to stay.”

“I wanted to,” I squeezed his hand, “I got to spend more time with you. That’s always a bonus.”

I could see Shawn’s breathy chuckle through the cold London night air. He turned his head to look down at me, “I really appreciate you.”

Breaking eye contact with him, I looked down at our feet that were in perfect sync with each other. I bit the inside of my cheek to suppress my smile, but I could feel my face redden with blush. Shawn bumped his shoulder against mine which caused me to look up at him.

“Aw c’mon, don’t hide your smile.”

And this time I didn’t.

I let the butterflies in my stomach consume me as I felt them travel everywhere from the tips of my toes to the ends of my hair. I let the smile overtake my face, showing all of my teeth, with my eyes crinkling at the corners. There was an overwhelming burst of zeal in the center of my chest that I felt course through my veins as I saw him smile down at me the same way I was smiling at him.

For once, my face hurt from my smile reaching its full potential, not from the cold London wind. And when I looked deeper into Shawn’s eyes––even though they were only lit by the dim street lamps––they shined with the same elation I knew was present in my eyes. The moment I knew Shawn felt the same burst of energy in his chest was when I screwed my eyes shut, to exaggerate my smile for him, and his laughter boomed through the empty streets of London.

The feeling was happiness.

I matched his laughter, albeit a little softer, and squeezed his hand, “You’re too nice to me.”

Again, Shawn bumped his shoulder against mine, “If it makes you smile it’s worth it.”

As much as I wanted to shield my smile away from him again, I didn’t.

The rest of our walk to the Underground station was spent in silence. The only noise on our walk came from me, when Shawn dropped my hand and threw his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close into his side. The sound was a content sigh escaping my lips when he pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

When the Underground station came into view, I momentarily shut my eyes and nuzzled my head further into his warm sweatshirt. I felt Shawn’s chest slightly rumble with a chuckle as he hugged me closer. And when we came up to the entrance, neither Shawn nor I pulled away from each other.

I shifted my body from being tucked away in his side to his front and circled my arms around his waist in a hug. Shawn let out a deep exhale as he hugged me back and traced small incoherent patterns across my back.

“I don’t wanna get up in the morning,” he groaned. I nodded against his chest and he continued grumbling, “I feel dead.”

“You look dead too.”

Shawn lifted his head up and poked my side, “Where’s the reciprocation for my niceness towards you?”

I let out a small laugh, “Just being honest.”

He pinched my waist and I wiggled out of his hold with a laugh. I opened my mouth to offer a rebuttal on how him pinching me wasn’t very nice, but then an idea struck my mind. While his flat was only about a twenty minute ride on the tube…I could get to my dormitory in fifteen minutes or less. It was only a five minute difference…The possibility of asking Shawn if he wanted to stay the night in my room made sense if it gave him some extra time to sleep in. But I didn’t know if it would make Shawn uncomfortable, or if it was too soon in whatever our relationship was.

“Are you planning on stopping by tomorrow––”

“I have a question.”

I felt my eyes double in size as the words slipped out of my mouth before my mind could comprehend what conversation I was initiating. Instead of being put off by my bluntness, Shawn’s eyes shined with curiosity as he nodded his head at me to continue.

I let out a deep breath as I felt a ball of tension form in the middle of my chest, “I know…Traveling back to your place takes a bit of time––And if you wanted––Not that you have to or anything––But I know my place is close, and you’ve had a long week,” Shawn’s eyes twinkled with amusement at my rambling and I took a deep breath, closing my eye for a second, before getting the question out, “You could stay the night at mine, if you want?”

My voice cracked with uncertainty at the end.

Silence.

With one eye squinted, I slightly leaned back from Shawn and inhaled a sharp breath. But before I could backtrack my offer in a ramble, Shawn eagerly nodded his head.

“Yeah, I could––That sounds––Yeah,” he easily smiled at me, “That sounds nice.”

“Great.”

We stood there for a moment in silence before Shawn tugged my hand, “Lead the way, I’m sleepy.”

I nodded with a bright smile and led the way into the Underground station and to my designated platform. We waited for the train in silence, and I could feel Shawn leaning more into my body as he tried to fight off his sleep. Luckily we didn’t have to wait too long until the train approached and we hastily stepped inside.

Much like our night before, the whole tube ride back to Waterloo was spent in silence, with only Shawn’s soft breathing reminding he was next to me as his head was tucked away on my shoulder.

When we got to our desired destination, Shawn was still a bit delusional from having fallen asleep for a little, but when he noticed we were almost at my place, he walked with a little more purpose. I tapped my Oyster card as Shawn tapped his phone to exit the Underground station at different turnstyles, but when we were both out, our hands reconnected like a magnet.

I scanned into the residence hall and led Shawn to the elevator. He seemed to be taking in his surroundings, but with how fast he was blinking, I was sure he was just trying to keep himself awake. Thankfully, the lift dinged right when I pressed the up button and we quickly stepped inside as I pressed my floor number.

The ride up seemed to take no time at all, and before I knew it, I was fumbling with my keys to unlock my door with Shawn standing close behind me. Once I heard the desired click and was able to push the handle down, I stepped inside and flicked the lights on.

Shawn followed my steps and he took his time examining my room more than he did with the lobby. With a small smile on his face, he slipped his hands into the front pockets of his sweatshirt, “So this is where you spend your time when you’re not at Brightside.”

I scoffed, “I don’t spend all of my time there.”

He raised his eyebrows and teased me even more, “Are you sure? You were there for most of the day today.”

I turned my back to him as I placed my bag down on the desk chair, “What were you saying about always wanting to be nice to me?”

Shawn let out a chuckle as he turned around to close the door and locked it. He shrugged his shoulders, “This is just teasing. I’m still being nice.”

“Mhm,” I hummed with a slow smile creeping up on my face as Shawn walked toward me and picked up my hands.

We were standing incredibly close, the tips of our shoes touching, as he played with my fingers and looked at a few scattered pictures along the wall next to my bed, “It’s a cute room.”

I rolled my eyes, “Thanks.” I tried to ignore the nervousness I felt in my stomach, “There’s uh, you can shower if you want.”

Shawn smiled in appreciation, “That sounds nice.”

I nodded my head and looked anywhere in the room that wasn’t his eyes. While his eyes were arguably my favorite thing about him, I felt incredibly apprehensive under his gaze now. While we’ve been alone together at his place, something about Shawn being in my room and staying the night seemed a bit more intimate.

I cleared my throat, “I think I have clothes that’ll fit you? I can check––”

His hands squeezed around mine for a second, which caused me to look up at him. His eyebrows were pulled together and I noticed his jaw was more tense than before, “You have boy's clothes in your drawers?”

I nonchalantly shrugged my shoulders, “Yeah, I stole some from my brother before I left. Figured it would help with homesickness,” I tilted my head as I looked up at him, “You guys look to be the same size.”

Something in Shawn’s eyes visibly relaxed as he let out a deep breath, “Oh that’s––I forgot you had a brother. That makes sense.”

Thoughts of Shawn’s lingering jealousy over Jack swirled around my mind at how tense he was acting. So like he did with mine moments ago, I squeezed his hands in reassurance, “You have nothing to worry about.”

I leaned up on my tip toes and kissed his cheek.

A faint tinge of red spread across his cheeks and I smiled at his bashful reaction.

“There are towels in the bathroom you can use,” I dropped his hands and pushed him toward the small bathroom that was luckily inside my single room, “The sooner you shower, the sooner we can sleep. You also smell.”

Shawn stumbled backwards, “Hey!” As he turned his head around his shoulder to playfully glare at me, “That’s not very nice.”

I rolled my eyes, “Shower.”

He was still somewhat laughing as he retreated into the bathroom. And soon enough, the door was shut and I heard the water running. With a sigh I walked to sit on my bed and pulled out my journal from the drawer in my nightstand. I tried my best to write in it daily, and right now was the only free time I had between classes and spending all day at Brightside with Shawn.

So before I would be interrupted by Shawn finishing his shower, I picked up a black pen and flipped to a fresh page. Like always, I checked the date on my phone and wrote it on the line––Wednesday, February 20, 2019––and checked the time to write that too; 21:18.

When I had all the details I needed, I started to hastily write in cursive so I could get a quick entry in.

But now I’m saving money on coffee, he wants to see me just as much as I want to see him, and he’s in my room.

I still can’t believe he’s here. I still can’t believe I asked him to come over. Still patting myself on the back for that…Even if I did ramble on like a little bit of a mad person. But thankfully Shawn seemed to be more enamored by it than put off.

There’s just something about his presence that makes me feel calm. Something I haven’t felt with any past boyfriends––Or really anyone in general. I could be having the most stressful day, but if I were to see him, I could think about how in that moment my life felt just a little better. I didn’t have to be with him at all times during the day either to feel like that. I could see his smile flash through my mind if I was having a particularly hard day and feel content.

But all of these feelings make me more nervous about when I have to leave––

“McLane?”

I slammed my journal shut and threw it aside as I heard Shawn’s voice bring me out of my own head. I quickly lifted my head to see what he needed, but when I was met with a dripping wet Shawn in a towel, absolutely everything in my mind disappeared.

He had the towel wrapped around his hips, and I tried not to make it obvious that I was staring at him, but from the way I felt my voice get caught in my throat, I knew I failed. Just standing in a towel, I could see his slightly defined muscles and tattoos that had been partially covered by his shirt. His chest still had some water droplets that the lights were reflecting off of, and his curls were matted down on his forehead.

I gulped.

“I––Um––Yeah?”

Shawn smirked at the crack in my voice.

“Do you have your brother’s clothes by chance?”

My eyes widened in realization that I never handed them over to him and I scurried off my bed. I knew my whole face was flaming red, especially when one of my legs got caught up in a bed sheet and I almost face planted on the ground. But I quickly recovered and avoided all eye contact with Shawn.

I opened and rummaged through three drawers before I found where I had my brother’s sweatpants and sweatshirt. Pulling them out, I walked over to Shawn with my head down and held them out for him to take.

When I felt him brush his hands against mine as he took the clothes, I looked up at him to see that he still had the same prideful smirk on his face.

Taking advantage that I was actually looking at him, Shawn dipped his head down and pressed a quick kiss to my lips that left my forehead wet from his curls.

He pulled away slightly and whispered, “Be right back,” against my lips. And just as fast as the kiss was, Shawn spun around and went to change in the bathroom.

I took a deep breath before going back over to my drawers and picking out a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt to sleep in. Soon enough Shawn was out of the bathroom, wearing my brother’s clothes, and before he could get a quip out, I scooted past him and made my way into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

And to get my flustered thoughts together.

While I changed and brushed my teeth, I tried to calm myself down. There was no reason why I should be this nervous about sleeping in the same bed as Shawn. We’d spent enough time alone together that I was comfortable with him. And it wasn’t like this was my first time sleeping in a bed with someone I had feelings for.

But the nagging voice in the back of my head told me this was different.

My feelings for Shawn were different.

With a deep breath and a semi-clear head, I twisted the bathroom door knob and stepped into my room. I saw Shawn sitting on my bed, back pressed against the wall my bed was up against as he looked intently at the pictures tacked up.

When he heard me walk over, he turned his head with a smile, “You look nothing like your brother.”

I let out a quiet laugh and sat next to him on the bed. He was looking at a picture of William and I sitting on a boat that was taken last summer. William had an arm thrown around me while my head was leaning on his shoulder, as the wind blew my brunette hair in front of my face, and William had a hand on top of his blonde hair to keep it from blowing around.

“Throws everyone off when they find out we’re twins.”

Shawn let out a small laugh as his fingers traced over a different picture, “Who’re they?”

I smiled at the memory as I leaned my head on Shawn’s shoulder, “My highschool friends. That was our prom.”

Shawn hummed in acknowledgement and rested a hand on my thigh, “You look pretty in your dress.”

“Thanks,” I whispered.

His fingers started to lazily trace circles on my thigh, “Do you still talk to them?”

I nodded against his shoulder with a faint smile, “We FaceTimed last week. It gets a bit hard with the time difference, but they’ve been my friends for like…ever,” I looked up at him through my lashes to see a slight frown on his face, “So it’s worth it.”

“Do you miss them?”

“Yeah,” his fingers stopped their movements on my skin, “But we all go to different universities, so being away from them is nothing new.”

Shawn nodded his head slowly, a slight frown still present on his face. His fingers slowly went back to tracing shapes on my leg, but I could sense that his mind was somewhere else. He kept a low-spirited gaze trained on my senior year prom picture, as we sat in silence and I wondered about what was troubling his mind.

My wall was only of pictures from home, only happy memories that I knew would keep me company abroad. So while I stared at them with a fond smile, Shawn stared at them with the opposite facial expression, and then something in my head clicked as to why he seemed upset.

It was my life before him.

And it would be the life I returned to after I leave London; after I leave him.

I soon felt my smile tugging down into a small frown that matched Shawn’s.

Ella and Niall’s words of ill fate wisdom popped up in my head––Just go for it…Don’t think about it…Be present in the moment––And I half-listened to them. Be present in the moment. That’s all Shawn and I could do.

“We’ll take lots of pictures and I’ll hang them up here,” I whispered into the crook of his neck, hoping he would take it as a promise that I wasn’t planning on leaving him any time soon.

I felt his hand inch ever so slightly up my thigh, as he tore his solemn gaze away from the pictures and looked down at me in an adoring way, “I like the sound of that.”

His eyes flickered down to my lips, as if he could also feel the strong pull between us. He darted his tongue out to wet his lips as I picked my head up from his shoulder. He took his hand that wasn’t on my thigh, and slowly lifted it up to reach under my hair and cup the back of my neck. With his forehead resting against mine, we stared at each other for a few seconds before I couldn’t wait any longer.

I leaned forward and caught his lips in a kiss.

Without hesitation, Shawn kissed me back slowly. The kisses were innocent as I let my hands wander to his chest and clutch the fabric of the sweatshirt he was wearing between my fists. With my hands pulling him closer, Shawn’s hand that was on my thigh continued to creep up until he slid it under my t-shirt, and ran his hand down my bare back.

He glided his palm and tips of his fingers down the expanse of my back. I shivered as he delicately touched every ridge of my spine, every bone, and every curve. He pressed his palm flat on my back, pushing me toward him as the tip of his tongue peeked out in a quick stripe across my lower lip.

An involuntary whimper left my lips as Shawn continued to press his lips against mine.

“Lay down,” he managed to rush out in between his kisses.

I was barely able to nod my head in agreement before Shawn pressed his lips back against mine and started to slowly lower me down. When the back of my head landed on the pillows, Shawn slid his hand from my back to rest on my hip. As he laid me down, he didn’t once break the kiss, and I craned my neck up to meet his lips that were hot with anticipation and need.

There was a brief moment of hesitation where we shifted our legs to intertwine and he slid his knee between my legs.

I unclenched my hands from the sweatshirt and slowly ran them up his chest, over his neck, and tangled my fingers in his hair.

While just moments ago Shawn dismally looked at my past through photographs, he touched me as if he didn’t give a damn about anything except a future together. It terrified me a bit how strong my feelings were for Shawn; I didn’t even know he existed at the beginning of the year, but now, I didn’t want to go any longer without his presence in my life.

Just be present in the moment.

It was a piece of advice that was easier said than done. Easy for two people looking in on their friends and wanting them to achieve happiness. Easy when a person wanted to forget about reality and fall into the fantasy of having their ideal life. Easy for people who lived in the same country.

And I knew Shawn was having these exact thoughts; every kiss was deepened with a fiery passion and the trail of his fingertips on my body would leave a lasting burn.

It was a silent agreement that we both wanted nothing more than to be present in our moments together.

Overcome with emotion, I had to break away.

As I tilted my head out of the kiss, Shawn didn’t lift his head up as he nuzzled his head into my neck and deposited a few kisses. He nipped at the skin as I sucked in a deep breath when he hit a particularly sweet spot right above my collarbone.

Slowly, he kissed his way up my throat until he got to the corner of my mouth, and placed another sweet kiss. He gasped for air as he leaned his forehead against mine, with his eyes still closed. I still had one hand in his hair and my other hand cupped his jaw as my thumb moved in soft circles on his cheek.

Eyes still shut tight, he gulped as if he was revealing his biggest fear.

“I really like you, McLane.”

His voice was convincing, but the smallest waver behind his tone wasn’t lost on me.

I ran a hand through the front of his damp curls, and when he finally met my stare, I offered him the softest of smiles. I leaned up to press a quick kiss to his lips, “I really like you too.”

Shawn let out the faintest of laughs, returning my smile, as he brushed a piece of hair out of my face and tucked it behind ear. He leaned down and mumbled, “Good,” against my lips as we both smiled into our next kiss.

Both of our hands wandered a bit more freely and with a bit more certainty. Like how my hands were first clutched around the sweatshirt Shawn was wearing, they found their place there again, except this time they were clutching at the hem of the material. I wasn’t sure what Shawn was thinking, and my hands were definitely more timid than they were before, but after a few moments of indecisiveness, Shawn broke our kiss and reached behind him to pull the sweatshirt off over his head.

Unlike when I saw him shirtless in a towel, I didn’t have much time to stare at Shawn’s chest above mine before he dipped his head back to reattach his lips to mine. Carefully, I let one of my hands trail down his chest. My fingertips ghosted over his skin when I felt his stomach muscles contract. I went to remove my hand, but Shawn shook his head against mine.

“Hands are cold,” he murmured between kisses, one of his hands fiddling with the hem of my shirt, gradually pushing it up against my stomach, as his warm hand laid flat on my stomach, “‘S fine.”

I let out a giggle and nodded my head against his.

“Are you okay with this?” He momentarily broke our kiss to lean his forehead against mine, eyes fully opened and staring deep into mine.

With a hand gripping onto his shoulder, I caught my breath before answering with a swift, “Yeah.”

The corners of Shawn’s eyes crinkled with a smile as we were both on the same page with each other. We moved in sync as I slightly leaned up with Shawn so he could remove my shirt, leaving my upper half bare.

We fell back onto the mattress togher, chests pressed flat, latched in an openmouthed kiss. Before coming over to my dorm, Shawn was half asleep on the tube, but now it seemed as if he was wide awake and didn’t have to be back at work in less than ten hours. I felt jitters in my nerves and blood running hot through my veins.

Shawn gently ran his hands over every bit of my skin he could reach; his fingers skimmed my neck, over my collarbone, caressed down my sides, until his hand rested on the waistband of my shorts. His fingers stayed immobile for a few moments before he shallowly dipped his thumb just under the elastic.

He slowed down the pace of our kiss until they were just pecks as I held my breath.

“Are you still okay with this?”

When I opened my eyes, he was already intently staring down at me with attentive eyes silently saying he would stop if I wanted. But I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted to live in our moment.

I swallowed, “Yeah––I––Still good. Really good.”

Shawn chuckled at my short phrases and pressed a searing kiss to my lips, the same time his hand dipped into my shorts. I thought I knew what it was like to have my breath stolen away from me, but the moment Shawn’s fingers slipped past my underwear, I felt a sudden shiver of euphoria as my eyes closed in bliss.

After we reached a new threshold in our relationship dynamic, I was curled up into Shawn’s side in a half-awake stage as his even breathing indicated he was asleep. As I laid my head on his chest. with his arm curled around me, I could finally pinpoint why I felt apprehensive the whole night from when I asked him to stay over up until now. Because even though I’d only spent a mere two months in London, a majority of that time with Shawn, I finally felt like I truly belonged somewhere.

And I didn’t want to mess it up.

A/N: Hiiii!! It’s been a bit longer than expected…But here’s the chapter! Whoop!! Getting some progress between the two! They had their first sleepover 😌 And she stayed to help him close!! How cute 🥺

I’d love to know your every single one of your thoughts!! They make me happy happy and give me lots of motivation!! I already have the ~next chapter done and let’s just say…There’s some jealousy on both sides

Thank you so so much for reading & staying with C’est Toi!! I am forever in debt to every single one of you who has let me share this story with you!! Love you all lots!!!

taglist (add / remove yourself): @mendesficsxbombay, @5-seconds-of-mendes, @pupsandpucks, @musicalkeys, @madatmendes, @im-salt-but-not-salty, @shawnmendez, @determined-overthinker @lenamds, @samaratheweirdo @shawnsreputation, @ineedmorestyles, @kerwritesthings

#Shawn Mendes #Shawn Mendes Fic #Shawn Mendes AU #Shawn Mendes Fanfic #Shawn Mendes FanFiction #Shawn Mendes Fan Fic #Shawn Peter Raul Mendes #Shawn Mendes Coffee Shop AU #Shawn Mendes Imagine #Shawn Mendes Writing #Shawn Mendes Story #Shawn Mendes Fics #Wonder #Shawn Mendes Wonder #Sm4 #Shawn Mendes fan fictions #I really really hate tags #hope you enjoyed this chapter!!!

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nevermord · 3 years

Text

Lepus Liberation

This is a fun little gift I did for RedBand.Jackalope! We were just chatting a bit and talking about bunny rescue centers when my muse pulled out a hammer and clonked me on the head, prompting this story! Jillian the Jackalope hears about a less-than-reputable feral bunny rescue center and goes to give them a piece of her mind. However, it seems that the "good" doctor may be breaking a few rules at Trivial Matters once more. Now she's going to show them they can't just use bunnies to get money. She's going to show them in a BIG way. Jillian grumbled under her breath as she sped down the open desert road. Her blue Jeep Cherokee's engine roared in the relative desert silence as her sandal clad paw pressed down harder on the accelerator. The heat coming off of the blinding sand all around caused the air to shimmer and created phantom puddles on the blacktop. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as her mind kept going back to what she had seen that morning.

The fluffy, white-furred jackalope was practically trembling with anger as she remembered the message she had seen that morning. A news report on a so-called feral bunny rescue where the owners had no idea what they were doing but somehow operated just within the rule of law. Half of the poor things were unbrushed, their coats so matted that their fur was falling out in clumps. Not to mention they hadn't been properly separated so nearly all of the females rabbits were currently pregnant!

She had instantly decided she was heading down there to give them a piece of her mind. The staff needed to either learn how to watch over the rabbits the right way or take them across town to a real animal shelter where they would be properly cared for. Exactly how she was going to make them do this was another problem entirely.

She drove along the desert road, her temper began to cool a bit as the warm, dry air from her open window rushed through her soft fur and long, brown hair. She sighed softly and itched at the stump of her broken antler. She realized there realistically wasn't anything she could do, and the thought of a face to face conflict with these random strangers was causing a knot to form in the pit of her stomach. Checking in the rear-view mirror and seeing nobody coming up behind her, she decided to pull over to the side of the road and think a minute.

She was so lost in her own thoughts, she didn't even hear the loud, droning buzz of the over-sized silvery mosquito as it swept in through her open window. She didn't even feel it land lightly on the collar of her black t-shirt. Even the quiet hiss as its needle-like proboscis extended went completely unnoticed. A glowing green liquid dripped from it as the tiny mechanical monstrosity leaned towards the vulnerable flesh of her neck.

“OUCH! Damn it!!” She jumped and slapped at the side of her neck, an expression of disgust on her face as she felt something fairly large crunch under her hand. Looking down at her palm, she saw some kind of green glop staining her fur and what she thought had to be a crushed bluebottle fly. What other biting insect looked so shiny and metallic after all, even if it did seem a bit big. She wrinkled her nose as she grabbed a leftover fast food napkin from a pocket on the drivers' side door, wiping the mess off of her fingers. “Ugh, just one annoyance after another today.” She tugged at her seat belt grumbling about how tight it had gotten and adjusted it a little as she got ready to turn her truck around and head back towards home.

As she reached out to turn the key she overshot it by an inch or so. She blinked, taking a look at her hand, turning it from side to side in front of her. It looked swollen somehow, the knuckles a little stiff as she flexed her fingers. “What the hell, am I having an allergic reaction to a bug bite now?”

She leaned over to pop open the glove compartment, her larger fingers fumbling with the latch. Finally getting it open, she hunted for a mirror to get a better look at the bite mark. The jackalope was sure she would find some hideous, swollen red welt on the side of her neck. As she sat back up, she winced in pain as she felt her one unbroken antler rip across the ceiling, gouging a deep tear in the headliner before scraping the metal underneath. Her eyes went wide as she ducked down a little, getting short of breath as she felt the seat belt constricting her waist a bit more. She threw the driver's side door open with enough force to rock the truck on its springs. Almost in a panic, she couldn't unfasten the tightening seat belt from around her midsection. She yanked hard on the fabric and there was a loud snap, sending the poor jackalope tumbling out of the vehicle and onto the hot, sandy pavement of the desert road. She pushed herself up off of the ground, dusting off the sand as she stood. Reaching out with one hand she slammed the door of the car shut in frustration, nearly causing the vehicle to roll over. A slight wave of vertigo swept over her as she looked more closely at the still gently rocking cobalt blue truck. It had always been about nose height on her, her eyes looking right over the top of it. Now, however it was just shoulder height, and chest height a few seconds after that. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out, trying to calm herself and failing miserably. “Okay. I shouldn’t panic. But... I think I’m definitely panicking! What? Whatwhatwhatwhat?!” The slowly growing jackalope took a step back from the vehicle and immediately lost her balance. The heel of her paw had extended back off of the rear of her sandal as she grew and offered no support as she toppled back and landed heavily on her rump! “OW! Mmmmf...” She groaned, focused on the pain in her rear for a split second before realizing that the pain in her feet was increasing. She glared down at her paws, already a bit over-sized because of her species and now seemingly expanding by the second. Her toes almost seemed to be inflating as they were constricted tighter and tighter by the sandal straps. It wasn't long before the tortured leather snapped and sent the soles flying from her big, fluffy paws to bounce off of the side of her truck. The cuffs of her blue denim jeans were rapidly retreating up her calves as the brass button on them snapped open. She gasped, grabbing at her waist as the zipper tore itself apart. Looking down, she could see her t-shirt stretching itself rapidly into a halter top as her poor, straining bra was overflowed by her furry endowments. There was an almost metallic snap as the tortured support device ended up lying useless atop the rapidly shredding denim stretched across her swelling thighs.

She blinked her big, pink eyes as her vision blurred. The rising jackalope crossed her eyes to see a tiny pair of glasses lying flat atop her snout. She leaned forwards a little and they slipped right off, landing with a soft clink atop her dwindling SUV. Scrambling back away from the vehicle before she grew into it and caused serious damage, the newly minted macro realized that just one of her paws was now larger than the dependable vehicle that had carried her all the way out here just moments ago. It was just a few seconds more before she realized that she was completely nude. In spite of her thick, fluffy fur keeping the giantess completely decent, she leaped to her feet with an earth-shaking boom, wrapping one arm over her chest and placing a hand over her crotch. Heat blossomed in her cheeks, the deep red blush forming beneath her white fur was easily visible.

The giantess' shout echoed out across the empty vastness of the desert, “WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!” Embarrassment was quickly being overpowered by anger. She had come all of the way out here to give those so called bunny rescuers a piece of her mind. Now she was in the middle of the desert, naked, and gigantic. Frowning, she moved off of the road, into the soft yellow sand. It was actually somewhat soothing to her aching paws as she started stomping her way towards her original destination. It wasn't long before the giant had reached her goal. The so-called bunny shelter was just up ahead. Inside the building, a ferret, a deer and a mouse were racing around, trying to catch various items that were falling from various rickety shelves as they were hit by what they thought was a minor earthquake. As the tremors grew stronger they gave up on trying to save the toppling merchandise and quickly moved outside. They froze in place as they gazed up at the fluffy giantess standing before them, tapping one massive paw impatiently on the sand. They were practically throwing one another to the ground as they tried to make a run for it.

“Oh no you don't!” Jillian boomed, lifting one huge, soft paw and plopping it down on the fleeing wannabe rescuers.

She pinned them down against the warm sand as she hissed through gritted teeth, “I've been walking through the desert, my feet hurt, and you're staying RIGHT THERE until I get these poor bunnies out of here and to a REAL rescue shelter.” The gigantic jackalope slowly slid her paw through the sand. Bunching it up beside her huge foot, she ended up burying the workers partially in a pile of it, leaving their heads and arms free to cough and struggle. She turned her attention to the rickety metal building and shrugged. Gripping the front edge of the tin roof in her powerful hands she started rolling it back like it was the lid of a huge tin of sardines. Squinting her eyes as she peered through the gloom, her heart nearly broke as she saw hutches filled with bunnies everywhere, many of them in truly horrible shape. Casting about for some way to carry the poor things, she spied the company van sitting off to the side of the employee parking lot. Crouching down beside the pile of sand, she grumbled out, “I should squash the lot of you for the way you've treated these poor babies, but instead, you're going to help fix things.”

She used a finger to carefully dig out the employees who were still struggling in the sand. “You're going to unlock the back of that van and you're carefully going to secure every last bunny hutch there is into the back of it. Right now.” It took a bit of time to get everything loaded and the doors shut. One of the workers, a slinky looking ferret started to open the driver's side door, “So, where we goin'?” Jillian slammed the door shut with a single fluffy finger. It impacted the van with enough force to cave in the tough metal, making her wince internally. She would have to be careful moving it with the bunnies inside.

“WE aren't going anywhere. I'm taking these poor things to a real rescue and you're all going to learn to care for bunnies properly.” She gently scoops the van up in one hand, cradling it against her belly as she glared down at them all.

“Because if I ever hear about this sort of thing happening again?” She cocked one leg back and kicked the side of their main building. There was an earsplitting bang accompanied by the tortured shriek of tearing metal. Without the roof to help hold it in place, the corrugated metal wall shredded apart like tissue paper as her paw blasted through and slammed down inside. She crushed desks, chairs, and filing cabinets flat against the concrete floor. Turning her white, fuzzy tail towards the shocked furres and her nose up into the air, she slowly walked off into the desert to the north, her booming footsteps echoing into the distance.

Her towering legs were beginning to ache as it took a good half hour of walking before she reached her destination. Car alarms were blaring all around her as she carefully picked her way through the suburbs around town. She laid back her ears, trying to block out the piercing noise as she tried not to cause too much damage. Finally, she carefully crouched down, lowering the van gently into the parking lot outside the Happy Hutch Bunny Rescue. As lightly as she could, she used a claw tip to tap on the side of the building. It was a young dog, a retriever of some kind from the look of it, who stepped outside and very nearly turned and ran right back in before Jillian called out for him to wait. “Hold on, please. There are some rabbits in the back of this van in pretty bad shape. They really need your help.” Reaching out, she ripped the rear of the van open, no longer caring about any damage done to the vehicle. Seeing the shape that the rabbits within were in, he quickly called the rest of the staff on his radio. The motley assortment of workers formed a sort of fireman's bucket brigade to get the hutches full of injured rabbits inside the facility as quickly as possible. The giant jackalope smiled brightly and sighed, rubbing absently at the stump of her broken antler as she felt that this was a job well done. She crouched down above the crew, telling them, “Thank you all so much for your help.” Rising back up to her full towering height, she looked down at the van for a moment. “Oh yeah, you guys might want to call the number on the side of that thing so they can come get it back.” Shrugging a shoulder, she then carefully picked her way back through the sprawling suburbs and back out into the desert.

It was nearly sunset when Jillian finally saw the deep blue blur of her truck in the distance. Everything as far as she could see was a brilliant orange hue that the sunset cast upon the sand. She was completely exhausted, her feet hurt horribly, and more than anything she really wanted to just go home. “Wait. What the hell am I going to do when I get home? I can't even fit in my yard, much less my house at this size!”

Feeling utterly defeated, she slumped her way closer to the vehicle, then blinked as she realized that it didn't seem to be getting any closer as she approached. Was it a mirage? Was she actually lost somewhere in the middle of the desert? Her heart leaped in her chest as she realized the reason it didn't seem to be getting closer. She was shrinking! She was finally returning to normal! Whatever it was that had caused her to grow into a macro must have finally worn off. She breathed a huge sigh of relief as she picked up the pace, hurrying back to her truck. She reached it just as the sun dipped below the horizon and the first chill of the desert evening started to creep in. She stared at the road near her truck in awe. The pavement was cracked and broken, crushed into the shape of a huge paw. Her ruined sandals were flung to the side of the road underneath the truck and a few scattered rags were all that remained of her ruined clothing.

She headed back over to her truck, for once in her life actually glad she had left the keys in the ignition. She was just about to wonder if she should risk driving without her glasses when a soft glint of reflected moonlight caught her eye. She gave a little whoop of joy as she stood on tiptoe for a second, ignoring the pain in her calves as she grabbed her glasses from the roof of the truck where they had landed earlier and slipped them on. The bridge a little bent, but she could easily tighten them when she got home! She sighed happily to herself as she perched her glasses atop her muzzle, smiling to herself. A feeling of contentment and a job well done gave her peace of mind as Jillian slipped behind the wheel of the old blue Cherokee and started home.

The End?

#jackalope #bunny #growth #anthropomorphic #furry #destruction #rescue #contained #restrained #fluffy kaiju

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writingsbychlo · 4 years

Text

more ways than one (05)

word count; 5015

summary; the pressure of looking after everyone else all becomes too much, and you snap, but there’s someone there to look after you this time.

notes; make sure to check the warnings for any triggers!

warnings; vivid descriptions fo panic attacks, major anxiety references, mentions of death and threats.

It had been a while since you’d had a chance to go back and see the man you were hiding away. You knew he’d be okay, you’d stocked up the house with snacks, over the past few weeks you’d taught him how to cook basic meals for himself. He seemed to be going through the books lining Derek’s shelves faster than you would have imagined, but then again, he had to fill his days with something.

He was catching on fast. Fast enough that you knew he’d be perfectly fine alone for a week, but you didn’t feel good about the amount of time that had passed. You had spent what had remained of the summer break visiting every day, or every other day in the minimum, and as soon as school had come back, things had caught up. Your studies were fine, but yet another supernatural threat was pressing down on you all, and now there was someone hunting down supernatural creatures around Beacon Hills, almost all of your friends at risk.

A week. A week had passed since you’d last been to visit, and you feared for the mood the man would be in when you returned. He’d opened up to you, enough to have small conversations here and there, but you hadn't progressed much further after his session with answering your questions all those weeks ago. Derek had called, extending his trip with Cora until Christmas, and so a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders in that you didn’t have to find him somewhere new to stay.

One less thing for you to worry about.

You had spent the day with the pack, running over scenarios and situations as you tried to find results, only to come up with dead ends. You were at the end of your tether, there was nothing you could do. As a human, you were for once the safest in the group, you and Stiles not being hunted, and yet everyone else was. You hated it, you hated how useless you felt, and you couldn't even bring yourself to hide the frown on your face when you unlocked the sliding door to the loft and entered the large space.

The sound of a thick book snapping shut and stiff material creaking under the movement of a heavy weight greeted you, and you found V popped up on his elbows, a book sitting on his chest as he peered at you from the couch, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed on you.

“Thought you might not come back this time.”

His voice was low, and you let out a deep sigh, shaking your head and running a hand through your hair as you dropped your bag from your shoulder down to your hand, carrying it over to the couch with you. He moved his legs as you made to sit down, swinging them over the edge of the sofa and making room for you to sit down beside him. You flopped back into the cushions, turning your head to look at him and he raised his eyebrows curiously, placing his book down and sitting up fully, enough to scoot closer to you across the couch. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be.”

“I’m not going to leave you, I’m just overwhelmed at the moment.” He hummed in response, before picking his book back up and opening it to it’s place. You weren’t sure what you had expected, he wasn’t well-adjusted yet, and you weren’t exactly seeking comfort, but you’d expected a little more from him than just being ignored as he went back to his book.

Digging through your bag, you pulled out your notebook and placed it on the table, open to the page with all the notes you and Stiles had scribbled down while working through problems earlier. However, no matter how many times you went through your bag, you couldn't find the pen you had been using, and suddenly, you could see it in your mind’s eye, tucked behind your best friend’s ear where he’d placed it before picking up the phone when Scott had called.

You let out a loud sigh, cursing under your breath and tossing your bag aside, dropping your head into your hands for a second and growling under your breath, the noise muffled by your palms, but still perfectly audible to the man you sat with.

“Are you okay?”

“Do I fucking look okay?” You hadn't meant to snap, and he looked taken aback by your outburst, his brows furrowing as his lips twisted down in a frown, your jaw tensing as you dragged your eyes away from his in guilt, searching across the room and finding a pent sitting on the stacks of books, next to a journal you’d left him a while ago to practice learning to write with, and he followed your gaze to it.

Picking up the instrument, he slammed it down on the table before you, nimble fingers pulling back as he jerked away from you like you were a flame that had burned him. “All you had to do was ask.”

The comment made you want to shout again, anger and frustration from the day bubbling up inside of you, and your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to control your rage, instead trying to work through the issue before you, trying to work out the passwords for the list of prices and names for those being hunted.

The evening continued much the same, as the hours passed on you found everything becoming too much. You were stressed, and overly tired, days of barely sleeping taking it’s toll on you as your tether wore thin. Everything from the scraping sound of the paper each time he turned the page, to the sound of Derek’s obnoxiously large clock ticking away was making you even more irritated.

His leg had been bouncing, twitching like Stiles’ would and you’d told him to stop, you’d told him to move up because he felt too close to you, and now he was sitting on the floor. He’d accommodated every silly whim you’d presented him with, and yet you still couldn’t help the growl that came under your breath as his fingernails absentmindedly scratched at the denim of his jeans as he read his book. It all became too much, and you slammed a fist down onto the table, everything a top it rattling as he jumped and looked up at you.

You were fixing him with a hard glare, and for this first time tonight, and in a long while, he fixed you with the same chilling look that had been his default expression when you’d first saved him. “What now?”

His teeth had been gritted as he spoke, and you scoffed at his attitude, shaking your head and crossing your arms as you looked at him. “You’re making this scratchy noise. It’s annoying me.”

“Everything I do seems to be annoying you, tonight.” You grumbled at his comment, pinching the bridge of your nose and you heard him hum to himself, flicking the page of his book extra loudly in protest. “If it’s so awful being here, why don’t you just leave?”

“Excuse me?”

“Leave. I didn’t ask you to be here. I’ve been perfectly fine alone, in all the days you didn’t have time for me.” He muttered the final words, and your eyebrows shut up, getting to your feet and placing your hands on your hips, trying to intimidate him as you towered over him but he got to his full height, and suddenly you were looking up at him as he glared down at you, now feeling much smaller than you did a second ago.

“This is my friend’s place, I’m looking after you! You should fucking leave!”

“And go where? I didn’t ask you to save me! If I’m so much of a burden to you then you should have left me for dead!” The comment made you swallow down thickly, but electricity was zapping through the air with each comment thrown in raised voices and angry shouts between you both, and the fire burning in his eyes only fuelled you on, no matter how much you knew you may regret your words.

“Maybe I should have! It would be a lot fucking easier for me!” His eyes darkened as he looked at you, jaw sealed shut before he schooled his face into a more neutral expression, and his ability to wash your emotions away only added wood to the burning rage within you.

“Do you really want me to leave?”

“I want you to get out of my fucking face is what I want!” You dropped back down onto the couch, hearing him huff out a ‘fine’ as he moved around the room, and you watched him go, shaking your head and rolling your eyes as he dramatically pulled open the loft door, leaving it ajar as his footsteps sounded on the stairs, disappearing into silence as he left.

A cold breeze swept in, cooling your fiery temper, and you shivered to yourself, the room suddenly feeling much larger with just you in it, and you felt increasingly more lonely as you looked around. Stretching out your muscles, you made your way over to the door, sliding it shut just enough to keep the coldness of the night out, and you felt guilty, knowing that the man had stormed out barefoot in just a t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

Your attention turned back to that of trying to solve your benefactor issues. Your mind was spinning, your stomach grumbling, and after another half an hour of wavering focus and drifting thoughts, you resigned yourself to making food. It wasn’t until halfway into your prep of the meal that you realised you had accidentally been making enough for two, instinct having taken over, and you sighed as you dished up your own, before leaving the other half int he fridge as leftovers.

Eating along gave you time to think about what you’d done, and you stabbed at the meal, eating slowly on rapidly cooling food as your appetite dwindled, replaced by nauseating guilt that twisted sickeningly in your guts. You washed the dishes and placed them on the rack, hiding in the kitchen, hoping that if you hung out in there long enough, that when you came back through, V would be back, scowling at you from his seat on the couch.

In a bid to occupy your mind, you made your way back to the couch, curling in on yourself as the thin blanket that kept you warm was no longer providing warmth, instead, leaving you feeling as though you were going to catch as chill, and over an hour had passed by since your friend had left, someone you had pushed away instead of letting in, and tears welled in your eyes as you thought about your other friends.

The words on the page seemed to blur the longer you looked at them, and you squeezed your eyes shut, a heavy and hot tear dripping down onto your cheek, and you were quick to wipe it away. You slammed the notebook shut, pulling your legs to your chest and burying your face in your knees, willing back the tears threatening to spill. You were clinging to yourself, rocking back and forth as the silence of the room took over, and you felt like you were sinking, drowning, entirely alone.

You made the split decision to get up, your body barely reacting in time with your movements as you stumbled to your feet, sniffling and blinking back tears as you dragged the door out of your way, not even bothering to close it again before you were searching the building, top to bottom in a weak hope that you may find the man hiding out somewhere as he waited for you to calm down, but you had no such luck. You searched through the outside, wandering so far away from the main building that you had to use the torch on your phone to just find your way, shivering violently by the time you returned alone.

Your skin was cold to the touch, coated in goosebumps from raised hairs as your teeth chattered, and your arms were wrapped tightly around your own body. The only warmth you had was from the tears slowly tracking down your cheek as you cursed to yourself, rubbing at your nose and your eyes, skin sore from salty tears you’d released.

Your breath felt like you were gasping by the time you were stumbling back into the loft, your heart racing, beating almost painfully hard against your ribs, though everything felt like it was in slow motion. You felt weak, your body giving way beneath you as you sobbed, clawing at your chest to pull breaths in, and you couldn’t find a blanket for the life of you. You knew Derek had them here, and your hands were shaking, so much so that as you searched through the boxes and drawers you were practically ripping them from their shelves, leaving them turned over as things clattered to the ground.

You couldn’t save your friends.

You couldn't save one person you found in the street.

You couldn’t even save yourself.

Your knees hit the floor painfully loud, the thud sounding through the room as your hands laced into your hair, tugging at the roots form your stress as you collapsed to the floor, everything around you seeming to blur away as your oncoming panic attack gave you struggles to even breathe, to wound up to even be able to see your surroundings anymore.

It was too much, you were just one person, you were a teenager. Your main concern should be what to wear to prom, whether you would have a date and which colleges to apply to. Every morning you woke up you lived with the constant fear that today may be your last day, that you may have to hold one of your friends as they died and that you may not be able to do anything to help them, that you may lose someone else.

Your phone lay across the room from you, and a brief thought of clarity to call Stiles, or Lydia or Scott, to call any of your friends flashed through your mind but it was dead, too far to reach in your weakened state and drained of battery from being used as a torch even if you did manage to reach it. It felt like everything was against you as your vision faded from the lack of oxygen you were getting into your lungs, your mind spinning on loops, making you feel both sick and dizzy.

Your body curled in on itself on the cold concrete of the loft floors, a chill sweeping across your skin, and you could barely focus when you turned, finding yourself on your back and staring at the high ceilings. A hand found the back of your head, honey brown eyes peering into your own as you were scooped further up. He was kneeling beside you, legs flooded under himself as he lifted you up a little, and your hands found fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him closer but simultaneously pushing at his chest.

“Y-Y-You left! You a-actually left!” Your words were stuttered out, and he ran a hand over your cheek, eyes wide as he gaped, no idea how to help you, and so in spite of all your struggling, he simply pressed your cheek into his chest, holding you tight to him as you tugged on his shirt. “There are n-no b-blankets, and y-you left!”

“You told me to leave!”

“I didn’t r-really want y-you to!” Your words didn’t make sense, and instead, you just pushed your face into his neck, sobbing into his skin as he held you close. He was stiff and tense, but his arms were wrapped around you and you were clutched to him tightly.

Eventually, he moved, scooping you up under your legs and holding you tightly to him, his legs a little shaky as he carried you over to the couch, settling back into the cushions with your body still wrapped tightly around him.

When your sobs calmed a little, his fingers brushed over your arm, soothing you with the patterns until your fingers undid from his shirt, sitting flat on his chest, one pressing over his heart, feeling it pump steadily under your palm, and your head was cushioned against his shoulder when you pulled back enough to get fresh air.

“You told me to leave.”

This time when he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper, and you swallowed thickly, sucking your lower lips between your teeth and nibbling on it for a moment. You opened your mouth, willing yourself to reply, but only a broken sob left you, your eyes dry as you were all cried out, but sadness once again surged your system.

He squeezed you tightly once again, his hands stilling, fingers spreading out wide as he held you. “The blankets are stacked in a box beside the door.” You let out a weak laugh, raising your head just enough to look at him, and his lips flicked up at the corners. “You were talking to yourself.”

He shifted you to lie you down on the couch, a yawn on your lips as he padded across the room, fishing out one of the familiar knitted blankets you recognised so well, before he was making his way back over to you, tucking it around your body carefully. He took a seat beside you, and you shuffled, resting your head on his thigh as you let out a shaky breath, your eyes closing as you finally relaxed. “Y’know, I’m supposed to be the one saving you.”

His response was whispered to you, sleep already taking you over as you warmed back up and relaxed happily, one of his hand’s lifting up just enough to settle delicately on his own legs beside your head, his fingers sweeping over your cheekbone. “Maybe we save each other.”

Sleep soon took you over, and you drifted off with the feeling of fingers brushing through your hair, tucking stray strands behind your ears until you were drifting off into unconsciousness, a well-needed sleep. Your body refused to wake until the sun was beginning to peek up over the horizon once again, almost ten hours having passed you by when pale colours were painting the skies as a new day was ushered in.

You jolted upright when the fog over your mind cleared, finding yourself jerkily rising up. There were indents in your cheek from where you’d slept, the man slumped uncomfortably, half keeled over as he dozed, and he slumped further down into the cushions once you left, the weight distribution changing as he huffed in his unconsciousness and rolled over.

You shrugged the blanket from your shoulders, smiling to yourself as you looked down at the man, draping the soft woollen material over his body. Crouching beside him, your fingers brushed the hair from his eyes, and he pushed his face into your touch sleepily, your hand pulling back rapidly when his eyes opened, fluttering just enough to peer at you tiredly.

“You’re leaving again?”

“Yeah, but I’ll be back this afternoon.” His lips flicked up at the sides, and he opened one eye fully to look at you, the other closed, and if you weren’t mistaken, there was an almost cheeky glint in his opened eye.

“Promise?”

You huffed out a laugh, nodding your head. “Yeah, I promise.” You told him about the food you’d left for him, and he nodded, soon drifting back off to sleep, your keys in your hand as you tried to shake yourself off for the drive home.

When you got home, you had taken a shower and changed your clothes, plugging your phone onto charge before getting yourself some breakfast, before calling Stiles to check in with him. He updated you on their progress, because apparently, they had all been working all night too, and had made a little new progress with which or update you on. There were three lists in total, a second banshee from Eichen house had been recruited to assist, and you jotted down everything else, a hand running through the tangles in your hair.

You packed a bag, collecting up some books and a spare charger to leave at Derek’s another hoodie that Stiles had left at your house and forgotten about that you could wear for now, and give to V later on.

Something had shifted between the two of you, something radical had moved between now and last night, having fallen asleep with the man, letting him ease you back from a panic attack, the air surrounding you both felt different. You were almost anxious on the drive back to see him, your fingers tapping against the wheel as you sat outside for a good while, before eventually shaking yourself down for your unnecessary fears, grabbing your bag from the back of your car and taking them up to the oft with you, choosing to prolong your time by taking all of the stairs, giving yourself a chance to talk.

When you opened the door, you found him looking over his own shoulder, back to the mirror hung up on the wall as he tried to reach his cuts, his shirt in a puddle on the floor, and his head whipped around to look up at you as you closed the door. He fixed you with a bright smile - almost dazzling - upon seeing your return to him.

Your anxiety slipped away, and you raised a brow, watching as he bowed at the waist to scoop up his shirt and tug it back over his head. You waved the bag at him, showing him the contents, and his eyes lit up as he spied the collection of books hidden within.

“You brought me books?”

“I brought you the Harry Potter books. They’re very good, and I love them, so don’t fold the pages. I also brought you a bookmark.” You dropped the bag down onto the couch, and he lingered a few feet away from you, and an oddly comfortable silence falling between the two of you. You weren’t sure whether to speak about what happened the night before, or whether to leave it, whether you should thank him again or not.

He broke your train of thought, the wringing of your hands that you hadn't realised you were doing came to a pause as he spoke. “I ate the food that you left.”

“You worked out how to use the microwave?”

“That what?” The two of you were staring at each other with furrowed brows, and your lips parted, silence settling between the two of you, your heart clenching for him when you realised he must have just eaten it cold, and you made a mental note to teach him how to reheat food, later. Your phone rang, the shrill sound of Stiles’ particular ringtone snapped you from your thoughts, and you fumbled into the pocket of your hoodie to find it.

“Hey Sti, what’s up?”

The man across from you stood quietly, moving forward to pick up one of the books, and Stiles took off in an explanation about a breakthrough they had found, the smile dropping from your face as you listened to him. Tapping the front cover of ‘The Philosopher’s Stone’, he took that one, giving you time to talk as he settled on the couch, and you shot him a reassuring smile, before wandering away into the kitchen for some privacy as the joyful expression dropped from your face.

What had felt like a vacation for a very short while, a brief period of happiness, was once again coming crashing down around you. They had passwords to unlock the lists, and your foot tapped against the floor as he updated you on new information that had come to light. At some point, your feet had just felt too heavy underneath you anymore, and so you were leaning against the counter, your body shaking as you listened to Stiles read off the names of your friends, and who was worth how much.

He promised you it would be okay, that you were all doing the best you possibly could to do protect them. You suppressed the sob that wanted to rise in your throat, telling your best friend just how utterly powerless you felt, and he did his best to reassure you. Once he had hung up, you placed the phone down beside you, covering your face with your hands, squeezing your eyes shut as your body trembled.

You weren’t sure how long you were stood there, nor how loud your phone conversations had been, but you didn’t lift your head again until your name was called from the doorway of the kitchen. You were shocked, he’d never used your name before, you knew he may have caught it from the conversations you’d had, and because you’d never formally introduced yourself, you were surprised he’d learnt it at all.

He had a hand on the top of the kitchen doorframe, practically filling the space as he looked at you carefully, and you wiped under your eyes, smiling carefully and pushing your phone into your back pocket after lifting it from the counter. You avoided his eyes, clearing your throat of the lump that had formed, before wiping your clammy hands on your oversized hoodie.

“How far into the book did you get? End of the first chapter yet?”

Your eyes barely flicked up to his as he ignored your words, taking a step towards you before you were looking up again. Your eyes were lined with tears again, and his shoulders slumped as his brows raised, expression morphing into that of a silent question and you swallowed thickly.

“My friends are going to die and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

Your voice cracked at the end of your sentence, and he closed the gap between you both, one arm wrapping around your body as the other cupped the back of your head pulling you into him softly. Your knees all but buckled from the compassion he offered you, and you’d been held like this by Stiles many-a-time, but something with V was different, it was more, and you couldn’t tell why.

It wasn’t a burning warmth or a consuming passion, but instead, it was simply a flicker of possibility, the idea that maybe he would come to mean something to you.

He held you up, for as long as he could, before his hands were once again scooping up under your legs to lift you up, and a weak laugh left you, fighting through the tears as deja vu washed over you. He sat down, placing you down beside him, his arm wrapped low around your waist, your legs across his lap as your cheek pressed into his shoulder. His free hand came up, carefully wiping your cheeks free of the tears flowing from your eyes.

He didn’t ask, he didn’t make you talk, not once.

Instead, he held you, picking up his book and balancing it on your stomach as he began into the second, and third chapter of the book you had brought him. By the time he was ending the third, you were beginning to squirm in his arms, wanting to move without disturbing him, and so he placed the bookmark into the fold of the pages, closing it and placing it down beside you both.

“You keep looking after me.”

“Someone has to look after you like you looked after me.”

“And that’s you?” You shuffled, moving to look up at him as he shifted, not looking down at you but instead moving to press his cheek to the top of your head, silently tucking you under his chin.

“It could be.”

You hummed, nodding your head quietly and stretching out your arms. Getting yourself up, his hand on your back gave you an assist, pushing you to your feet and resting on your back to keep you steady as he watched you, and you spun on your heel, new happiness and joy filling you as an idea came to mind. “How about a movie and a pizza?”

“You’re staying?”

“Do you want me to go?” You watched him, a genuine smile on his lips as he stood up beside you, your hands fidgeting in front of yourself, a single brow raised, and he took your hands in his to steady them, much like you had done to him several times over the past few weeks as he’d revealed more and more to you about his history.

“No. I don’t. I like it when you’re here with me.”

“Cool.” You grinned, taking one of your hands from his and fishing your phone from your pocket, pulling it up and opening an app to order a pizza.

“Cool.” He repeated, and you laughed under your breath, shaking your head at the way the word sounded so odd coming from his lips. You moved ordered you both some food, just enough to fill you up, before you were moving away to find the television remotes and instructing him to fetch some drinks from the kitchen as you unfolded the blanket from last night.

In a split-second decision, you caught his wrist in your hand as he went, turning him around as he looked at you quizzically, and you bounded up on your tiptoes, pressing your lips to his cheek. A barely present kiss was left on his skin, your mouth barely brushing his cheek, but the tip of your nose followed as you fell back down onto your feet and turned away from him to the television in order to choose a film, not missing the small smile on his lips that was mirrored on your own.

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renwritesstuff · 4 years

Text

we are family

Day 4: we are family.

Describe or draw a familiar moment. Are they close, or estranged? Are they blood relatives, or family found with friends?

Two Traynors stared each other down, hands hovering over a small box. There were 5 empty shot glasses in a semicircle around them, flanking the pristine chess board between the pair.

Wiping her hands with a dish towel, Priya Suresh-Traynor pleaded with her family. “Dessert is almost ready, do you two have to do this now?”

“The fate of the galaxy depends on it, mum,” Samantha Traynor mumbled back, not breaking eye contact with her father.

“You heard the kid,” Geoffrey Traynor seconded with a lazy smile. “I need to know my little sprog‘s mind hasn’t gotten soft since she’s been away.”

“Soft?? Did you miss the part where I kicked Polgara T’Suza’s arse across the Citadel?”

“Vid or it didn’t happen.”

What are you, five??

...God, I wish I had a vid. Are there vids? I wonder if I can ask for one...

“I have a trophy proving it happened. And a witness.” Sam’s eyes flitted over to the witness in question, her gaze narrowing.

Commander Annelise Shepard held her glass of red wine in surrender. Her voice came out wet and shaky from her fresh sip. “She’s—” Shepard patted her chest from the cough. “—She’s correct. She electrocuted that asari good.”

And got a shower as a prize.

That narrow challenge in her eyes switched to panic as Sam glanced back at her father, who was tsking in disapproval. “Neuro-feedback chess? ...Sammy. You didn’t.”

The Comms Specialist scowled. “I didn’t choose it, it was part of the tourney rules. Usually, yes, I have slightly more integrity.” Unless I really want to win, that is. “It was just a lark, father.”

“Well as long as it was on a lark you buried that smug asari, I guess you’re forgiven. ...still can’t top your Dad at 5-Shot Speed Chess though, I bet.” The older man blew on his knuckles theatrically and gave them a wiggle before resuming his position at the worn speed clock.

Oh, you’re on.

“Oh, you’re on.”

Priya gave an apologetic smile at Shepard, who had taken up perch at the kitchen counter partition. The bar seat next to her was empty, waiting for Sam to return from her tense game. The matriarch of the Traynor family was busy at the stove stirring the simmering pot of kheer on one burner while checking a boiling sugary syrup on another. The warm kitchen filled with the scent of Indian spices and jasmine rice bled over into the prefab living room area.

“I wish I could lie and say something like ‘they aren’t usually like this,’ but…” Priya shrugged and smiled fondly at her husband as the game began. The speed clock snapped with each hit as the older and younger Traynor dove into an intense exchange of pieces. “It’s actually a tradition when Sammy comes home.” She paused before clarifying. “A tradition since Sammy was proper drinking age, mind you.”

Annelise smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Is that right?”

Sighing, Priya tapped away her Omni-tool where a reverse countdown timer could be seen by Shepard. “I think it was One-Shot Speed Chess back then,” she admitted. “I swear we were a classy family at some point. ...I can’t recall when, precisely, but I assumed we had to have bumbled into it somewhere in the last 25 years.”

“I’m 26, mum,” Sam reminded loudly as she slapped the clock once more.

“We were definitely classy when you were one, sprog,” Priya snarked back. “I mean, you weren’t because you just ate and shat all day, but Geoffrey and I were newlyweds and still extremely classy.”

“Muuuuuuum!”

Oh my God do we have to talk about me shitting my diaper in front of Shepard???

Annelise failed to hide a staccato of exhale-laughs behind her wine glass, amused by the exchange.

Oh my God why did we come here?

...Oh shit Dad almost had me there.

Oh shit are they doing this on purpose? Working together against me??

Betrayed by my own flesh and blood!

Sam had to do a few lazy blinks to push back the swimming in her head and vision. Those shots were creeping in fast aided by a full stomach of naan and saag paneer. But she resumed focus on the game at hand, giving the clock another slap as she nudged her white bishop in an offensive position.

“So, Comm—Annelise,” Priya fumbled slightly. “What are your parents like?”

Mum. Did you not watch any ANN profiles?

Shepard’s sip of wine was casual, unruffled by the question. “Couldn’t tell you. Both gone. Mom when I was four from eezo poisoning, Dad when I was thirteen. Fire in our apartment building.”

What could have been a very awkward silence was instead filled with Priya’s empathetic tongue cluck (honed from years of practice as a registered nurse). “You poor thing. Too much life experience forced onto someone so young.” Her vigorous stirring motion never wavered. “Not to mention the life of a marine on top of all that. What a hand this universe deals us, hm?”

“Indeed,” Annelise agreed. She smiled sadly, her eyes inward as though weighing something. “This reminds me of the dinners I had with my brother and dad.”

Oh? Samantha’s head tilted so she could hear better. Her father was closing in on one corner of the board, but her queen sprang into a hole in his defenses.

“Oh?” Priya asked, echoing Sam’s own curiosity.

Nodding, Annelise rotating the now empty wine glass in her hand. “Dad wasn’t much for cooking, but John loved it. He loved grilling and barbecue. He’d usually save some of his courier paycheck for a good cut of meat at the store and try out different seasonings.” She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “I bet he would have loved your cooking.”

“I fear I know the answer, but where is ...John?” At Shepard’s nod, Priya continued. “Where is John now?”

Oh no.

Should have given your folks some notes, Traynor.

I didn’t think it was my tale to tell!

How are you this bad at relationships, Traynor??

“Also gone, right before Dad. Car accident.” Annelise chewed her cheek a moment. “You know, before the Skyllian Blitz, I thought I was pretty unlucky based on all that.”

“And now?”

“Well, everything’s kind of a shit show, so jury’s out on that.” Annelise looked over at Sam, who was getting louder and more erratic with her clock taps. “But lucky in other ways.”

“Oh good answer, love!” Priya crowed, snapping the towel in Annelise’s direction. “A for effort, superbly charming response.” Her Omni-tool started beeping, signaling the woman to pull the pot of rice milk off the burner and set it aside to cool before turning her attention to the syrup. “What were three favorite things your brother cooked?”

An exhale deep through Shepard’s nose as she held her chin in her hand. “Oh God, I haven’t thought about that in ages.” She nodded at Priya’s silent pantomime offer to refill her wine glass. “He loved ribeye steak. Kind of fatty for me, and too damn expensive, but… I dunno, I liked it because he liked it so much.”

Aw. Sam felt a pang of longing for Shepard. There was a fondness to the woman’s tone that didn’t come up often.

How often does Commander Bloody Shepard have a moment to think about her family? Or talk about them?

We should work on that, Traynor.

Geoffrey piped up regarding one of his favorite subjects. “Good man! Good cut of beef. What temperature?” He pointed a finger at Annelise as though calling on a student in one of his classes.

“Medium rare.”

“Good man indeed,” Geoffrey agreed as he slapped the timer one more time. White and black sides pieces were dwindling as lines of attack thinned out.

“Let’s see, what else… He actually did a spiced mutton I really liked. Sometimes lamb. Both were dirt cheap for awhile in Seattle before the drought, so he made a lot of it.” Annelise smiled as she accepted a small round poor of kheer, a sprinkling of ground nuts on top. “Oh, and his ribs were to die for. John had this dry rub mixture he spent months tinkering with. Took damn near eight hours to cook, but worth it.”

Geoffrey exchanged a look with his wife before cutting back to the game. Priya nodded.“Oh we love lamb in this house. One of the many reasons we applied for colony life. No more ration stamps from those artificial trade wars with the Volus, and all our farming sustainable and available direct to the colony first.” Priya fired up her Omni-tool. “I have a lot of great lamb recipes if you’re—goodness! I haven’t asked how your cooking chops fare?”

Nudging a pawn over to take Sam’s knight, Geoffrey jibed. “A loaded question, dear. We all know our Sammy is completely dependent on Alliance-provided cafeteria food. How she survived four years at Oxford is a complete mystery. She should have either ended up three hundred pounds from eating rubbish or died of scurvy.”

Hey!

“You talk a lot of shit, old man, for someone who just got checked. And it’s called a dormitory meal plan, I’ll have you know. I had three square meals.”

I just probably didn’t drink water the entire time. All booze or energy drinks.

“Of cafeteria food, further proving my point. Also, check.”

Ugh. Also, what?

That exhale-laugh from Annelise almost pulled Sam away from her last ditch strategy. The Commander extended her own Omni-tool. “I’d love the help. While I can survive on a remote moon with just a knife and a canteen, I don’t prefer to. I did undercover work for a year after graduating N7, so we had to learn how to be human again. Cooking included. Some of it even some fancy five course meals meant to impress targets.”

“So you know where all the forks go and what they do?” Samantha asked, slapping the timer. “Check.”

“I definitely do.” Those green eyes glittered with mirth.

“Oooh, be still my heart.” Sam shot a finger-gun at her girlfriend.

Priya made some flicking motions with her fingers before an answering ping from Shepard’s wrist. “Well, here are some of Sammy’s favorites. Someone should have them, since the pride of my life can’t make toast.”

“Hey!”

“I also made note of some of the ones with Sammy’s allergies.”

Annelise flicked through the holo screen, studying the recipes. “Curry, shellfish, and peanuts, right?”

You forgot public speaking and losing at chess to my father.

Sam’s mother clutched her heart theatrically. “You know! Oh Geoffrey, did you hear? Sammy trusted her with shellfish, darling!” Priya poured a ladle full of the syrup over a small pyramid of large cake-like balls that had been chilling in a dish. She brought the dish over to the pair of competitors whose game was nearing completion.

“Check! And I did, love! It seems our Samantha is serious about this one! ...or her commanding officer looked at her file.” He grinned at his daughter before reaching for one of the gulab jamun.

Scowling, Sam slapped his hand away from the bowl before slapping the speed clock again. She could feel a heat rising in her neck and jaw (hopefully it was just the alcohol). “No dessert til we finish the game! And check!”

After a tentative bite, Annelise dug into the bowl of sweet kheer with enthusiasm. “I mean, you’re not wrong, sir. But I had the decency to act surprised when she finally told me. How was that again, Samantha?”

Oh sonabitch.

“When we went out on a date in public for the first time and I stole a bite of your lobster roll and my throat closed and we had to go to the med center.”

Both of her parents barked her name at the same time. “Samantha Karuna Traynor!” Her father added, “You always were a sucker for lobster despite never learning your lesson. And check.”

“It was worth it!” Sam squawked. “It was delicious! Also: check mate!” The pawn she’d been nudging forward that her father ignored got promoted to a rook and was now perfectly positioned to box in his king.

Geoffrey stared at the change of fortune, dismayed and swaying a little in his chair. The shots were clearly taking hold. He tipped his king over in surrender, bowed his head at his daughter, and grabbed the topmost gulab jamun.

Samantha joined him with a second ball, the syrup coating dripping slightly. They raised their desserts in salute before taking a big bite.

Mouth full, Sam grinned up at Shepard who was standing next to her chair. “I had you there to rescue me, darling. I knew I’d be all right.”

“I hope that’s always the case,” Annelise smiled back as she kissed Sam’s forehead.

Before she slowly dropped down to one knee.

#merweek2020 #mass effect relationship week #june 4 #shaynor #samantha traynor #femshep #samantha traynor x femshep #family #i petered out at the end #i'm tired #we are family prompt

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violetnotez · 4 years

Text

One Dance

Kaminari x Dancer! reader

Genre: Fluff (lots of pinning for each other ^w^)

Word Count: 1500+

Warnings: None!

Summary: When you begin to lose your chance of winning a dance scholarship for college, none other than Kaminari comes to save the day!

One Shot

(RULES | MASTERLIST| REQUESTS OPEN!!! :))

Small rewrite of one of my older stores I posted ages ago :)

Even without your partner, you weren’t giving up on your choreography, even if that meant practicing by yourself without hope of every getting it done. You were a dancer, new to the whole community of dance in your town and the world, but you loved it. You loved being able to express yourself through music, become a different person through your dances, and show off what you’d been learning in the last year. So when you heard there was a scholarship online that would give you some serious cash for college, you couldn’t resist. The only catch: you needed a male partner. And the partner you had, after a full month of finding the perfect song and working on the choreography, sadly broke his leg two weeks before the submission date.

So now you were practicing, trying to calm your ticking nerves as each day came closer and the hope of finding a partner dwindled away slowly.

Right as you prepared for your pirouette, you began to think about your impending dilemma, making your body wobble and fall from the flood of anxiety. You closed your eyes, expecting the impact of hardwood floor. Instead, your body was enveloped in strong, yet soft arms, your head on their chest. You looked up, shock on your face until you realize it was your adorable best friend, Denki Kaminari.

“I guess you ‘fell’ from me, Huh, y/l/n?” Kaminari smiled, a slight blush on his cheeks.

“Hey Kami”, you said breathlessly with an embarrassed smile.

You always thought Kaminari was stupidly funny, and extremely attractive, so him seeing you fumble a simple turn wasn’t amazing. But his face was inches from yours, his hands holding your elbows up for support. You couldn’t help but notice how cute Kaminari’s hair looked flopped over his eyes slightly from looking down on you, and that devilish smirk he wore whenever he saw you were embarrassed. Realizing he had been holding you for longer than he should have, you pushed off him, pretending to rearrange your messy ponytail as your blush began to set in.

“Hey-um, uh,” he replied, fumbling over his words, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, Yeah,” you said, brushing off his worry,”just a slip, that’s all.”

You grabbed your water bottle, taking a swig and rubbing your eyes from the heaviness of thinking of your situation. “I’m just kinda stressed.”

Kaminari’s face took on a concerned look, knowing too well that you push yourself hard and when things don’t go well, you work yourself to your max to make up for it. “What’s going on?”

“Well, remember that scholarship I was doing, and the only way to do it was if I had a partner?” You asked him.

Kaminari nodded as he crossed his arms over his chest. “How could I, that's all you have been talking about for weeks!” he said with a smile, knowing how excited you were to create that choreography.

He loved that you liked dance- he saw the passion you had for it and it made him smile and feel fuzzy just watching you and listening to you ramble on about what knew trick you were able to do for a new routine you created, or a new workout outfit you got, or what new class you found to go and try. And, as bad as he knew it was to think about it, it was nice seeing you in tight workout leggings and breezy tops that exposed your sports bras. When you invited him over to practices, it was one heck of a trip for him- half the time he was practically squealing inside from seeing you look so beautiful, watching your curves moves to the beat of the music, but the other half desperately wishing he could join you in those duets you were always doing.

“Well..” you continued, “my partner broke his leg- and he’s completely out of the routine.”

Denki sucked air through his teeth, scrunching his nose up. “That bad?”

“Yep,” you agreed as you breathed out, laying your aching body against the cool mirror on the wall, “so I’m a little screwed at the moment.”

You smiled sadly at Kaminari, looking down as you rested your arms on your legs.

Kaminari walked over, sitting down next to you. He knew how excited you were for this opportunity, so he felt terrible for you and what you were going through.

A few moments of silence went by, Kaminari not knowing how to help you and trying to calm his slightly racing heart. He had had a huge crush on you ever since you two began to hang out, and he would do anything for you and your passions. He was a sucker for you and he knew it.

He sighed. “I’m sorry y/n…I wish I could do something to help you…”

You smiled at Denki’s sweet reply, thinking how he caught you from a bad trip a few minutes ago. The embarrassment was still there, but you knew Kaminari could care less. It surprised you how much you missed his hands on your body, the feeling still tingling where he had touched you. You thought of how close you were to him, and how strong his body felt against yours…Your head shot up, a clear light bulb going off in your head.

“Kami- I got an idea!!” You exclaimed happily.

Kaminari jolted, not expecting you to move so quickly.

“Um-that’s great!”he smiled, confusion set in his brow. “But what is it?”

You rolled your body on top of his, sitting on top of his abdomen, the excitement rushing over.

Kaminari’s face erupted in red, his eyes wide with confusion and your sudden intimacy.

“Okay- Denki- please, remember that one time I did your English essay and got you an A and you told me ‘I owe you one, y/n’”? You remember that?” You asked, the excitement making you smile wide and your voice hasty.

“Yeah…” he confirmed, wondering where you were going with this as he tried to avoid eye contact. All those times he wished you two would be close….he was taking it all back- not because he didn't want you close, the complete opposite- he just felt like a WRECK. Sweat seemed to be pouring out of him and he couldn't seem to breathe or think correctly.

“Well, now I need that favor. Pleaseeeee Kami?” You pleaded, giving him puppy dog eyes.

Kaminari looked at you in confusion, not understanding what you were asking until he realized it- you wanted him to be your new partner.

His eyes widened as joy raised in his stomach and he just stared at you like a dead fish from shock! Even though he felt like a wreck, he had wishing for this day for MONTHS! And a chance to be your Prince Charming, to help you out and save the day- he would be a COMPLETE IDIOT to say no to that!

You saw Kaminari’s shocked face and registered it as panic, and just as he was about to open his mouth, you covered it with your hand.

“You can do this Kami!” You cheered him on, thinking he was having doubts. “I’ll teach you everything, every step, every move-it’ll be-

You felt something slimy on the back on your palm, and you pulled your hand off his face in disgust.

“AH YOU BRAT!” You yelled, unable to hold back a grossed-out smile as Kaminari laughed.

“Why’d you lick my hand?!?” You protested as you wiped your hand on your legs.

“Because, he laughed, “you wouldn’t let me talk!”

“Well you could’ve done something else than do that.” You replied with a fake pout, folding your hands over your chest.

“Sorry,” he smiled, giving you a toothy grin, “Let's do it!”

“Ahhhh!” You screamed in happiness, suffocating Kaminari in an impulsive hug, “Thank you!”

You rolled off his stomach, standing up and offering him your hand.

Kaminari was overloaded by your touches, and was missing you on his stomach and that tight hug you just gave him. Secretly, he wished he could have this all the time- being close, intimate, laughing-but he always just thought you weren’t “in” to him like he was with you. You guys were best friends, and really close, so he was afraid to ruin it if you didn’t feel the same way.

“Okay, let’s get to work,” you smiled, leading him over to the middle of the room.

You hit play through your phone, a heartfelt, future-soul song filling the room.

“You know Khalid, right?” You asked, Kaminari nodding.

“So- this is what I was thinking for this song- it’s basically about a couple whose going through a bunch of problems, but they can’t decide if they want to be together, even though they still are crazy about each other….”

“So just pretend you are in love with me for a second,” you laughed, trying to make a joke as you grabbed Kaminari’s hand in prep for the first move.

“If only you knew I wasn’t pretending,” Kaminari thought, his heart jolting, not anticipating you to hold his hand. He didn’t know if he could survive all this touching.

“So, all you’re gonna do,”you instructed, “is hold my hand and when I pull away…”

You stretched your body away from Kaminari’s. “Pull me back in when the beat comes back- like I’m trying to leave and you don’t want to let me go.”

“Ready?”

“Hopefully,” Kaminari smiled nervously, still flustered by your hand in his.

You played the song back, giving Kaminari a reassuring smile. For as much as he pretends he's some player or fuckboy, he was really nervous being around a girl- it was kinda cute in your opinion.

You stepped back into your position, avoiding Kaminari’s eyes as you turned the music on. Even though you had been holding his hand, and pretending to be confident, you weren’t. Every move you make with Kaminari, every touch of skin, made your whole body feel with like jelly. Your stomach was filled with butterflies, and you didn’t know if you could keep being this brave and holding his hand.

You pulled your body back as you said you would.

You began to shout over the music “Don’t worry about hurting me, just pull-“ Kaminari pulled your arm back just at the right time, taking you off guard. Your hand instinctively went to Kaminari’s chest, forcing yourself to look into his eyes. You got lost in that electric yellow, the blonde hair flopping down on his forehead complementing them perfectly. Your heart went into overdrive, the blood pulsing in your ears as you both stared at each other, both surprised how intimate that got.

You smiled breathlessly as Kaminari’s cheeks grew with a tint of red.

“This is gonna work.”

————-

Hope you all are having an amazing day or night wherever you are at!!!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN MA DUDES

#bnha #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha kaminari x reader #mha kaminari x reader #kaminari x reader #kaminari denki #kaminari denki x reader #denki x reader #bnha denki x reader #bnha denki x y/n #bnha kaminari fluff #mha kaminari fluff #mha kaminari #kaminari x you #bnha kaminari x you #bnha x dancer reader #mha x dancer reader

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donttellpeterparker · 4 years

Text

Your Arch Nemesis Part 2

Summary: Peter Parker, you hated him with a passion. Though over the years that seemed to dwindle into something else..

No..

You couldn't like your arch nemesis, right?

Requested: Yes, thank you!

Word Count: 2.2k+

Warning(s)?: Peter!Reader enemies, Fluff, Angst, soFTNESS so ummm that's it??

request (x) masterlist (x)

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

Your Arch Nemesis

''We have room for one more!'' You spun your head around to see a guard motioning towards the elevator. It was tempting, to go with the other group and see the very top floor. You had finished everything down here and with only 15 minutes left of the tour you thought why the hell not.

''I'm coming'' You spoke up, leaving your group to join another. Luckily your teacher hadn't notice you duck away. As long as you were back by the time they were leaving you were fine. Hopefully.

''Lucky last'' You turned your head to face a brunette girl with a warm smile. You think her name was Liz, seeing as you heard other people call out to her earlier.

''Apparently so'' You were awkward when it came to strangers so all you did after that brief encounter was smile. She seemed nice.

The elevator began to move and you couldn't help but to glance around, taking everything in. You couldn't really see anything from inside but you were beyond exited to reach the top.

''You're from Y/S/N (you school's name)?'' You turned your head to face the same brunette girl, the guy from beside her peeking an interest in our conversation.

''Yeah, she was apart of the team we crushed!'' The guy enthused. You didn't bother giving him a reaction. However, Liz faced him and he frowned.

''Yeah, you're Midtown right?'' You asked, wanting to divert the conversation. The floors were going by, the guards voice in the background droning out as you continued to talk with Liz.

''Yeah, I've seen you before, were you at decathlon last year?'' For the next few minutes you talked to her with ease. You smiled and laughed and joked with her, like you guys were already friends.

''The Washington Monument is 555 feet, 5 and one inches tall...'' You both decided to turn around and pay attention to the guard, dropping the interesting conversation quickly.

''Notice how the marble and granite are cut around the stone...'' She seemed so bored with her job it had almost put you to sleep. Luckily for you, you already knew everything about this place so you easily filled in her gaps of information.

A crackling sound began to fill the tight space, your eyebrows frowning in confusion. The elevator hasn't made that sound before. You glanced up and noticed the roof of the elevator glow bright purple and pink, almost like radiation.

''What the hell?'' You spoke aloud to yourself before suddenly a massive bang echoed in the confinement. The elevator swung side to side for a few seconds from the impact before stilling completely, shards of glasses falling in and around the elevator.

You gripped behind you but came short when it was just wall, no hand railing. Everyone immediately began to panic, shifting from side to side causing the elevator to softly rock. You could fear tremble within you, your arms shaking. Your heart began to race once you felt the elevator move.

You watched as Ned threw his backpack to the ground, a massive hole in the side of it.

''Oh my god, look at the ceiling'' The same guy from before spoke up, looking at the roof in fear as well. You all glanced up and shivered.

''Just, stay calm everyone'' The guard spoke up, sounding scared herself.

''Oh, we are all going to die here'' Another person spoke up, not helping with anyone's fear at all. You tried taking deep breaths, feeling the start of a panic attack. You turned around and faced the wall, closed your eyes and began counting you breaths, trying to make them longer.

''W're freaking screwed'' You tried to block out their voices but it wasn't working.

''Okay, I know that was scary, but our safety systems are working'' Deep down you knew that was a lie but was grateful for it anyway.

''We're very safe in here'' The guard tried to calm everyone down. You lent your head against the wall, feeling your breaths become shallower and shallower. You almost couldn't breathe, you needed to get out of the elevator and fast. Your vision began to blur so you closed your eyes, retrying your counting.

You felt the elevator move more so you turned around, eyes widening once you saw the guard climb through the hatchet. Students began following her up one by one, the elevator becoming even shakier, the sounds from the cords above terrifying you.

We shouldn't be moving.

''S-s-stop moving, the c-c-cords..'' You stuttered out of breath, everyone around ignoring you. You pushed your back up against the wall, letting all the other students go first seeing as you could barely walk without possibly fainting.

Fear was creeping in, your eyes watering at the prospect of dying in this elevator. Your heart felt like it was bursting out of your chest, the pain making you weak at the knees.

''Y/N! Come on!'' You heard both Ned's and Liz's voice call from above. You couldn't move, you willed your feet to move even an inch and you couldn't.

''I-i-i can't'' You breathed out terrified, leaning against the wall for dear life. You were now crying, tears rolling down your cheeks rapidly, your vision blurring once again.

''Just... take a few steps, it won't move I promise'' The guard tried to coax, though even she didn't believe her own lie. You hesitantly took a step, leaning off the wall as you felt every nerve in your body tell you not too.

''That's it, it's just us, you're safe'' The others must have made it to the nearest level, you were relieved about that.

''Grab my hand' You did once you slowly approached her, letting her help you up. You heard the cords strain from the movement and weight, looking like the'll give any moment. Once you were up, you stood on your feet shakily, making the horrid mistake of looking up, the roof wasn't very far which meant...

You were a long way from the ground.

With another loud creak from the cords, the other guards swiftly pulled the other up, leaving just you on the elevator. You stumbled over towards them, reaching your hands out for them to grab.

Loud snaps was heard in the air, the cords all breaking. Your eyes widen once more as everything began moving slowly, the elevator beginning to drop, your hands just out of reach of the guards. A scream didn't even leave your mouth as you fell backwards down the hole of the roof, your back colliding harshly with the elevator's ground.

You winced in pain yet felt your stomach churn at the dropping sensation you were experiencing. Out of the corner of your eye you saw a white rope fling down towards you, attaching itself onto your clothed stomach. Suddenly you were still as the elevator kept moving lower, your body just narrowly escaping the hole from the roof that was made by the blast.

You couldn't close your eyes, not believing that you were still and somehow floating in the air. You didn't want to look at what was keeping you up, not believing that you were not still falling, plummeting towards your death.

Your head lulled back, seeing the elevator fall so far away from you, the drop seeming to be a lot bigger than what it really was. More tears welled and left your eyes as you finally closed them.

One tug and you felt your body begin to fall yet again. This time you did scream, out of surprise. Your eyes sprung open as you saw red and blue spandex above.

Your body stopped again, harshly being tugged again from what you presume to be the white rope.

Wait a minute... red and blue spandex.. a mask... white rope..

Spider-man was here. In Washington? And he..

Saved your life?

Your head was spinning, you were sure it was due to the amount of blood rushing towards it seeing as you were kinda upside down. With a small tug you felt your body being pulled up, however, your face still face the ground, seeing the elevator crash at the bottom with a loud bang that echoed off the walls.

After what felt like forever you finally felt hands on you, grabbing you and pulling you onto safety. You left your eyes opened and stumbled backwards, the guard catching you to make sure you didn't fall.

After a few seconds you found the strength to glance up in front of you. Spider-man hung there, upside down seeming to stare straight at you. He let go of your hand which had a bit of webbing around it slowly, almost like he was making sure you were okay.

You stared a while, your words hitching in your throat, the thanks feeling lodged with no escape. A few seconds later he fell, a piece of the roof of the elevator following quickly after him. You gasped and jumped forward, quickly being held back by the guard to make sure you didn't fall down as well. You watched as the red and blue spandex fell for a few moments

''Thank you!'' One of the guards called out. A boy from the corner of your eye lent forwards as well, holding the decathlon trophy in his right arm.

''Are you really friends with Peter Parker?''

~*~*~*~*

The ambulance and police had soon shown up, meeting everyone outside the Monument. A paramedic soon came to you, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders as he took you over to the back of one, sitting you down as he began examining you.

You couldn't hear what he was saying but felt it when he lifted your chin and shown a light in your eyes. However, you didn't respond, the recent events still plaguing your mind and body. You had almost died. Death, for some reason had not been here to claim you. How were you so lucky? How the hell did you survive that?

And the superhero who did save your life was no where in sight, how would you even ever thank him? How could you thank him? What he did was worth beyond gratitude.

''She's in shock but she's okay, make sure she takes it easy and she'll be fine'' You heard the paramedic say this time but not at you. A hand was on your shoulder but still you couldn't seem to snap out of it, the elevator, the cords snapping, people screaming, it all echoed inside your head, a constant reminder.

''We better go Y/N'' The voice was soft, coaxing you away just as the guards voice did. Maybe if you hadn't had moved the elevator wouldn't have fallen.

''Hey, is she okay?'' Another voice spoke but your mind couldn't focus on it. You hands were shaking again and you couldn't get them to stop.

''She hasn't spoken since it happened, I would give her some space-'' You felt another hand on your shoulder and another hand around your waist, spinning you around. You were shocked when you saw Peter Parker in front of you, looking very worried.

''Are you okay?'' He asked nicely, running a hand though your hair as if he has down it a thousand times before. The touch was comforting and warm so you lent into it, enjoying the sensation as it tamed your thoughts a little.

All you could was bring yourself to nod, words lodging in your throat. He stepped closer and pulled his hand around your waist tighter, pulling you closer towards him.

''I am so sorry...'' He seemed to mumble to himself in a pained tone. Your head lent against his shoulder as you let more tears flow, the fear still inside your body. He had held you for a few moments, letting you cry and shake in his arms. Who would've thought the touch of a foe could ease so much?

You pulled away and sniffled, running the back of your hand over your nose. Two hands pressed against your cheeks softly, the warmth of the touch calming you slightly even more. You glanced up and looked at Peter, his eyes scanning yours.

''I'm so glad you're safe'' You smiled slightly, hugging the blanket around you tighter. After a few moments you felt your nerves ease more, not all the way but enough for you to speak.

''Me too'' You couldn't bring yourself to speak more but it seemed perfectly fine for him, a huge smile adorning his face.

''How about we call a truce? I really would like to have you as a friend rather than a arch nemesis'' You laughed slightly at this, a genuine smile appearing across your lips.

''I'd like that'' You knew deep down you wanted more but for now this was perfect. And who knows, maybe in the near future you could be more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Been so long since I've written an imagine so I feel a little rusty, hope you guys enjoyed this though! It was so soft, fluffy and angsty so I hope it gives you all the feels! I love you all and thank you once again for requesting this imagine! It was perfect x

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #tom holland #spider-man #spider-man imagine #peter parker x reader #your arch nemesis #donttellpeterparker

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wwwafflewrites · 4 years

Text

The Not-So French Mistake

Chapter 2: Reluctant Researching

Castiel awoke drowsily, his back and legs cramped from his contortion against the wall, a blanket draped over him. His thoughts were slow, and he recognized Dean’s shape, which had deflated into a dormant state in the desk chair while the sun was peeking over the horizon steadily.

The girl, who was splayed along the couch, stirred beside Castiel, who was currently accompanying the floor. Her stable, slow breaths vivified, and she awoke with a gruff sigh. “Hm?” she murmured hoarsely, lethargy still weighing her words. Once again, she didn’t recognize her surroundings, and panic snapped away her drowsiness.

She fumbled to sit up, backing into the armrest of the couch. In a blind scramble to search for a weapon, she snatched a loaded gun off the coffee table that had been deserted casually after a past hunt. She clicked the safety off with professional haste and aimed the barrel at the nose of the man before her.

Castiel froze, a moment of doubt sifting through his bloodstream. Typically, he would not waver when faced with a pistol, but he had to consider his predicament cautiously. While his grace still lingered within him, his powers were dwindling. Primal instincts such as hunger and sleep were solid proof of his increasing humanity. Castiel hesitated because he wasn’t certain that the bullet wound would ever heal with his lacking angel abilities.

Some instinct within him, likely more human than angel, urged him to suffer to a terror deep in his gut as the pistol aimed at him. Perhaps Jimmy Novak was steering such a response.

Her hand trembled as it gripped the gun.. Just one tremor and his vessel’s brain could splatter the wallpaper. He would rather Jimmy not endure such. If he would ever persuade the weapon’s parting, she would need to be calm.

Intentionally slow, he raised his hands. “It isn’t what it looks like,” he insisted kindly. He wished Dean would waken already. Why, of all times, must he sleep now?

She squinted and trembled less, anger washing over her. “Really?” she challenged, “Because it looks like I’ve been kidnapped―twice now!” Fury twisted her features now she held the upper hand. “Somebody better offer answers! Where am I?”

Dean had risen from his brief sleep, escaping even the notice of Cas. “A place you do not belong, trust me.“.

She observed the hunter sternly, rage voicing her actions. He was built like a soldier but dressed in leathery materials. His worn jacket was a simple brown, along with boot-leg denim jeans, and logger boots. The ancient necklace dangling to his collarbone rocked against his black button-up.

“Everyone keeps saying that,” she hissed sourly, “and it’s ticking me off.” The gun pressed against the cartilage of Castiel’s nose, firmly held.

“Okay, okay.” Dean acceded, glancing toward the stairs and doors to check for any thing that might send her into a spontaneous round of shooting. Finding none, he gave her what she wanted: the truth. “Angels abducted you,” he responded outright, smugly awaiting her response.

She dug the barrel of the pistol into Castiel’s cheek and said, “And? You think I haven’t gathered that?”

Castiel, having finally controlled his fragile humane responses to threat (specifically reigning Jimmy), was now curious. “How is it obvious?”

She shot a skeptical gaze to the angel. “Your wings… they’re kind of difficult to ignore.” She gestured with her free arm to his sides. “The other brutes who manhandled me also had those stupid feathered appendages, so give me one reason why I shouldn’t shoot you in the face right now.” Her voice was frigid.

“My wings?” Castiel wondered aloud, “You can see them?”

Dean laughed, “Wait, wait, you actually have wings?” He inspected the angel’s shoulders from where he stood, expecting to see feathers. “How can she see them?”

At the sudden movement, the girl balked, “I will shoot him.” Not an ounce of humor laced her tone or expression.

He shrugged it off. “Ain’t going to do a thing, sweetheart. Not a scratch.”

“Would you like me to test the theory?”

“If it makes you feel better.” Dean said, jutting his chin. He was clearly confident in the angel’s abilities.

Castiel, however, was not so confident. “Dean,” he berated. “That is not wise. My grace is withering as we speak. A bullet will render me useless. I suggest we present her with information.” Despite the steady advice, the silent plea rang like a church bell.

Deflated, Dean sighed. “Right, okay, but can you at least lower the gun? It’s stressing him out.”

She agreed, and allowed the weapon to rest on her leg, hand tense and prepared. “Now, what is going on and where am I?”

Dean worried his lip, knowing the answer to the question was flat-out batty to regular civilians. “At least give us your name. ‘The girl’ has become popular, but I’m assuming you wouldn’t be too fond of that nickname.”

“Sydney. Quit stalling.”

Dean lifted his hands in surrender. “If you say so, cupcake.” He sat back into his seat while his fingernails secretly etched into the wood. “You’re in another dimension. Some angels swapped you into our reality. For whatever reason, we don’t know. We rescued you. Whatever plans they had for you, they probably weren’t legal. Not that angels care about legal.” He gestured to the clutter and stacks of books around them. “We’re researching dimensional travel, okay? Castiel here could transport you back, but he says he’s drained. And apparently, it’s nearly impossible otherwise.”

She halted any further movement, recognition flaring within her eyes. “No,” she denied. “No, this is―no.”

Castiel and Dean eyed her in mild concern.

She laughed half-heartedly, “I knew this seemed too familiar, but…. you’re Dean and Castiel, aren’t you?” After a pause, she cussed under her breath. Their silence had answered her inquiry. “Jesus. And Sam’s outside?”

Dean nodded warily, “How―”

She suddenly felt dizzy. “Because I have a friend who watches this, um, television show? It’ called Supernatural. You’re the Winchesters. God, this show has no freaking fourth wall,” she said, her hands meeting her temples to calm her racing mind.

“Oh, great,” Dean cheered sarcastically. “Another universe where our lives are just another television show. Always fond of those. Tell me something: why on earth would people enjoy watching our lives?”

She laughed at the sheer stupidity of her situation. “Because you guys are heroes! You’ve had your rough spots and sore years, but no matter how many trials and obstacles block your way, you push on. It’s inspiring, and a bit depressing, if you ask me.” Sydney shook her head in disbelief. “You’re popular where I’m from, if it helps anything. You’re a worldwide-famous kind of deal. My friend, Iris, is obsessed with you two.”

Worldwide, huh? Dean sported a pained expression. “Well, if you know who we are, then you know we’re here to help.”

She nodded thoughtfully, the gun in her hand slackening as her grip loosened. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess.” She clicked the safety back into place and set the weapon onto the coffee table in front of her. Slumping into the couch, she assessed her fate. “Oh my god, I just threatened you guys with a gun. I just threatened Dean Winchester with a gun. I’m so screwed,” she squeaked. The butterflies in the pit of her stomach panicked as excitement and fear battled within her.

Dean fidgeted. “You’re fine. No harm done. We get it a lot, actually.” Being addressed as something of a celebrity was as awkward as it was foreign. The most famous he’d ever been was Most Wanted in America, and even that was a stretch, being legally dead, and all.

The front door creaked open and in trudged the groggy moose himself: Sam Winchester. His clothes were wrinkled from curling into the car seats and tossing restlessly. Along with that, the bruises under his eyes had faded into a pale grey.

Sydney observed his status: hair length told her she was dealing with sometime around Season 8, and his plaid button-up was sagging from the boiling temperatures outside the air-conditioned walls. “The car is like an oven today. It nearly baked me alive,” he complained, rolling up his sleeves to cool himself. Meeting the eyes of Sydney, he lit up, “You’re awake.”

“Impeccable timing, as television goes,” Sydney commented tersely. Her attitude was peckish and cheeky while her body language read bitter. Overall, it was a crappy demeanor.

“What?” Sam’s eyebrows crept up to his hairline as he attempted to soak in the criticism so early in the morning. Especially out of the person they saved yesterday. Gratitude was difficult to come by these days. “What’s she talking about?”

She studied Sam oddly, “You’re fake. You gotta be. That’s my conclusion. This is all too freaking specific and creepy.”

Dean had had enough. He retorted indignantly, “From my perspective, you’re the fake one. I’ve spent a majority of my life learning what is real, and this world is definitely one.”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t take advice from a fictional character,” she said hotly.

Sam could see this argument was heading on a dangerous path, so he briskly intervened, his tone clipped, “If you would be rational, you would realize you’re both real―because you can physically see each other.”

Castiel agreed. “Sam’s right: an argument over this is not productive. You’re just unaware of each other’s existence, considering the wall separating your realities. ”

They were ganging up on her. Sydney snapped toward the angel, “I’m still not convinced that this isn’t a dream… or nightmare, for that matter.” She paused, “Why am I dreaming about you now?”

This was nightmare-worthy. Three very intimidating men had her surrounded in an unfamiliar house, and were arguing heatedly over whether they were a figment of her own imagination. Also, this could definitely be considered kidnapping. The only things that were keeping her compliant were their faultless references to Supernatural and their apparent copy-paste faces that matched their description and behavior down to the freckles.

“Who’s to say anything isn’t a dream?” Sam was now suggesting, which was enough to hold her tongue for the moment.

“Besides,” Dean countered, “a dream this vivid would be the work of angels. So either way, angels are meddling with your cantaloupe, kid.” Dean quipped, tipping the empty glass on the table in a search for alcohol. The dry bottom disappointed him. He stood, prepared to scavenge the fridge, but an arm blocked his path. An inevitable foe: the determined moose.

“We need you sober, Dean. Don’t think I didn’t notice the empty bottles in the kitchen.” Sam advised, squandering any of Dean’s future intentions.

Dean felt attacked; was he that predictable? “But―” He dared to argue. Seeing Sam’s persistence, he obliged. “All right, okay.”

Sydney crossed her arms in obstinance. “Prove it. Prove this isn’t a dream.”

Dean appeared agitated by the ridiculous demand. He said, “And how are we supposed to that? We can’t just―”

“Actually you can,” Sam interrupted with a barely tolerable amount of excitement. One of these days, Dean would need to exit the room after practically smelling the amount of dork that radiated off of his brother. “It’s impossible to read numbers or words when you’re dreaming. It’ll resemble scribbles and babble because your brain doesn’t process them into REM sleep. So if we have to prove our authenticity, check and help us research while you’re at it.” He nodded keenly, a sly glint in his eyes. He had won.

She glared, aware she had been outwitted. “Fine,” she bit out venomously. She swiveled toward the unending stack of books littering the living room and plucked an unsuspecting hardcover. Once freeing its stiff pages, her jaw clenched in silent disbelief to her discovery.

Dean lifted an eyebrow and concluded his next actions would be to check up on his Baby, and not make friends with more booze, in heed to Sam’s wishes.

Sam trailed along.. “She sure is something,” he finally said after the recent aggressive standoff.

“A tiger,” Dean agreed.

The sun channeled down to the earth with one sweeping, broiling gaze; anything in its view was showered in waves of heat. Pine trees withered, leaves shriveled, and life wilted. The sun’s torrid touch sent ripples into the air as another summer day sprang into a heat spell. Dean found the feverish weather unnatural in the fall months, but August had recently withdrawn, so nobody paid mind. It was just ‘mother nature doing her thing’.

Something told Dean that the sun’s slow ability to rise automatically equaled a long, tiresome day. He wasn’t ready for it, or anything for that matter, but he was bracing himself for the inevitable.

He patted the Impala fondly, which had cooked to a temperature nearly that of a hot stove, and admired his car’s brilliance in the rays of the amber morning sun. The hood was gleaming, the windows were glossy, and the bumper glittered in a metallic luster. He had been tempted to kiss her if she hadn’t been scalding hot. His Baby was gorgeous.

Sam, amused by Dean’s worship over his vehicle, smiled faintly. That car had seen the worst and the best of times since the day they were born. No matter what wreck got into, Dean would fix her right up to the childhood imperfections and all. Dean was adamant about leaving each flaw and fault in the car from their youth to preserve its personality. What would the Impala be without the army man that Sam crammed into the ashtray or Legos that Dean shoved into the vents?

“Even when Dean rebuilt her from the ground up, he made sure all these little things stayed, ‘cause it’s the blemishes that make her beautiful.” ~Chuck Shurley

That car had been around longer than anyone ever involved in their twisted lifestyles.

Sam recalled the days when wide, toothy grins and trivial pranks had been common practice. Back then, their ambition of the family business had been guided by positive energy and hadn’t yet weighed on them like a clingy burden. Hunting hadn’t been a chore: it had been a personal commitment. They had saved people because they knew of the lurking evil and how to defend against them. They helped because they could and it was right.

Of course, their reason for hunting still existed, but back then it had been simpler. Dig the grave, salt, burn; find the monster, how to kill it, and go through with that plan. There were no complicated angel issues, no Leviathans, and they had been spared the constant deaths. Now, it was their job and duty to save the world at any moment’s notice, which seemed outright wrong for anyone to have forced upon them. Even the undefeated Winchesters.

Fortunately, no matter how much crap they endured, the Impala remained intact. And within all the memories stuffed and crammed into Sam’s worn mind, their car was always present.

Sam gave the Impala a little pat of his own, compelled to acknowledge the vehicle’s constant stability throughout his life, whether or not it was just a car. He owed it that.

Dean was almost antsy as he sat on the polished hood. “Sam, something ain’t right with that girl.” His thumb absentmindedly rubbed at the metal, smudging it with a line of oily fingerprints and then yanking his hand away as the roasting metal met his skin. Dean had done so twice now, which told Sam that something was unquestionably at the forefront of his brother’s thoughts.

Sam took a special interest in the claim, weighing what had riled him. “What makes you say that?” He had noticed nothing suspicious about her, just that she was as feisty as they got.

“She can see his wings, Sammy.” he said, licking his lips and lowering his voice to an urgent whisper. “Castiel’s. ”

Intrigued, Sam pinched his lips, and a crease appeared between his eyebrows. “Cas has wings?” He tried to visualize the concept, but the notion of invisible feathers adorning Castiel’s backside sounded bizarre.

“I know, that’s what I said!” Dean exclaimed animatedly at the relation. “I didn’t even know he had wings. I thought that was just a metaphor for his mojo or something.” He itched for a drink. “I’m telling you, something about this is bad news.”

“Alright.” Sam believed him. After all the hardship they had coped, he knew that when Dean had an intuition, it was usually correct. “But, what’s got you like this though? We deal with this stuff all the time.”

Dean shrugged, his shoulders rigid. “I don’t know. But it’s not settling in my gut right. I mean, with angels involved and a separate dimension, this could be anything,” he said, his point becoming clearer. Angels, in their book, were commonly associated with chaos. Apocalypse, Lucifer, Leviathans… you couldn’t blame the hunters for suspecting another round of mayhem they would be enforced to patch up for the ignorant celestial beings.

“You’re right,” Sam admitted. “So… I guess we do what we’ve always done, then. Find out what we’re dealing with and do what we have to.”

They understood.

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