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robinsdearest · 3 years

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Ketchup Packets

Tim Drake x Reader

Peanut Butter and Oreos (Part 1) They’ll be okay (Part 2) Bobby pin (Part 3) Ketchup Packets (Part 4)

Tim threw another piece of notebook paper into the trash. It hit the other balls of wadded up notes and bounced away. How long has he been hunched over his desk? Tim glanced up to look at the clock. A couple days, maybe. A couple hours since the last cup of coffee, definitely. He groaned and slid a hand across his face. Stubble scratched his fingertips.

Jason’s voice almost scared him. Almost. “Timmy, my dude, you have to stop working.” He kept scribbling as Jason walked over to lean against the wall adjacent to the crumbling despair that was Tim. Jason poked his face. “I didn’t even know you could grow facial hair.” Tim slapped his brother’s hand away and continued to write his notes down.

It had been three months since your plane went down. Three months since your parents had died. Three months since you slipped through Tim’s fingers. He dove into work to try and figure out what happened the morning of your plane crash. He hasn’t stopped working to find you in three whole months.

Parts of your plane sat scattered around the BatCave. Background checks for everyone at the airport that day, the days before and after laid loosely on the ground by Jason’s feet. Everything and everyone was clean. The owner of the plane your group borrowed publicly stated there was a fuse shortage in the engine causing it to explode, and subsequently, sent your plane barreling down into the ocean. News reporters claimed everyone from that flight deceased- the five supposed survivors not even missing anymore, all reported to be lost at sea. But Tim knew better- he knew you were alive. He knew it, had this gut feeling. Bruce always told him to trust his gut. Or did Superman say that? No, it was definitely the main bat. Or was it Diana…

Jason whacked the back of Tim’s head. Tim finally looked up at the Red Hood, scowling. Jason had to bite back a laugh: he knew how much pain Tim was still experiencing. Hell, he was dead for a while and no one bothered to search for him like Tim was doing for Y/N. “Come on man, let’s go get some grub. You look like you haven’t eaten in weeks.”

“Only a day.” Tim corrected. Another whack to the back of the head.

With the drive from the mansion into Gotham City and eventually to some burger joint, Tim couldn’t believe he was wasting time when he should be out searching for you. Even after three whole months of investigating, Tim was still coming up short. Every lead finished with a dead end. Every tangent lead to a backwash story that was publicized to explain the crash. Tim stared down at his tray of fries as Jason flirted with the cashier. Tim sorted through the files of his brain as he continued to work each angle of the investigation. Everything fit together but nothing made sense. Jason flung packets onto the table stirring Tim out of his trance. Jason was flaunting how he got a phone number from the cashier and waved around the receipt where it was written. Tim stared down at the packets on the table. Ten- what an odd number to grab. Tim counted five mustard packets and five ketchup packets. Tim reached for a ketchup packet, grimacing when he picked up the one that was busted open leaking on to the table. Of course he would grab the one that…

Tim immediately shot up and grabbed Jason by the collar. Jason choked on his bite of food as he dropped the rest of his burger. “Oi, dunce face, what in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jason fumbled into the passenger seat of the car as Tim shoved him forward, sprinted around to the driver side, and then started the car. Tim started rambling. Jason had a hard time keeping up.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” “Think of what? How you ruined my burger?” “Of course I wouldn’t have looked into the victims.” “Me. I’m a victim, you burger murderer.” “All of those doctors, all seemingly connected in one way or another.” “Doctors?” “Doctors, Jason! God, I’m an idiot. The one that wasn’t connect has got to be the leak. The leak that doesn’t fit but allows everything to make sense.” “Alright, I’m calling Alfred. Timmy, we need to get you checked out.”

Tim slammed on the breaks at the red light. The two brothers stared at each other, neither one moving. The light turned green, but Tim didn’t accelerate.

“Jason I’m talking about Y/N.” Jason’s face turned into a serious frown, and Tim continued. “I never looked into the doctors that were supposed to go on the mission trip. How could they be considered suspects when we see them as victims?” Tim held up the leaking ketchup packet. “One of them is the leak, the cause of the problem.” Jason’s lips turned into a snarky grin. He nodded his head towards the direction of the mansion, and Tim turned his eyes back to the road.

He finally figured it out. He was going to find you. His brain went into overdrive back at the cave. Jason called Damien and Dick down to help sort things out as Tim furiously worked into the rest of the night. The other boys made calls and printed papers as Tim searched through all ten people on your flight.

Tim had to narrow down who he couldn’t verify. Nine doctors and one medical school student. Seven doctors, excluding both your parents. Five, excluding the other doctors he knew personally. Four, excluding the doctor Bruce dated a while back- the Russian one, he thinks as he scans over her name. Three left. Damien drops a stack of files next to Tim. The youngest brother briefly puts a hand on Tim’s shoulder before quickly withdrawing and returning to Dick’s side. A quick scan of the discarded stack reveals two of the last three doctors had confirmed deaths, dental records verifying their respective bodies at the site of the plane crash. One left.

Tim stopped typing. Bruce walked down the stairs and stood next to the oversized computer; the main bat was dressed in the suit, cowl pulled off, ready to go on patrol. He glanced around the room to his birdies, and lastly his eyes fell on Tim. Red Robin stared at the screen as the last doctor stared back at him. Tim found his ketchup packet.

Shawn Ramirez. A plastic surgeon from Metropolis- invited to the mission by Mr. Y/L/N. Ramirez was born in Washington and had only lived in the big city for four years: most recent addresses put him in Texas, and before that California. Before California, he moved internationally to practice medicine in Africa. More specifically, Ethiopia. Where the mission was planned to go. Where Y/N was supposed to be.

Ramirez had worked for the Ethiopian military; a surgeon who traveled the continent looking to heal. At some point in time, Ramirez had visited Europe with the military. No less than a week later, Ramirez was back in the states working as a plastic surgeon. What happened in Europe?

Dick handed Bruce a stack of files. Looking through them, Bruce’s frown turned ever so slightly down. Bruce then handed the files to Tim, who spared a quick glance at Batman before turning his attention down to the file. Flipping through the papers, Tim froze at the known associate. Part of the League of Assassins known to the world only as Abadi- an elitist who weaseled through militaries and governments for fame and fortune in the name of Ra’s al Ghul. Abadi was a known villain amongst the bat and birds as Bruce is the one that nearly took the man’s eye out, leaving a gashing scar from eyebrow to chin, forcing the villain to wear an eye-patch. Abadi’s last known location was a small island off of Cape Verde, just a couple hundred miles from the plane’s crash landing.

Tim turned the chair around to see the rest of the family dressed in their suits: Bruce, Dick, Jason, Cass, Damien, and even Alfred. Alfred held out Tim’s Red Robin costume. “Master Tim.” Alfred was the first one to speak in hours since Tim and Jason returned home from the burger shop. “Please bring them home.” Tim reached for the suit, but was met by Alfred’s hand. The butler squeezed his fingers, and Tim simply nodded in understanding. The group hustled to the Bat Plane; inside, Batman ordered the birds for flight paths, site takeover analysis, and rescue plan. Tim sat at the back of the plane while the others worked. Tim was going to go save you, he was finally going to be able to tell you. And then, like a light switch, everything turned bright.

#tim drake x reader #tim drake #red robin fanfic #dc fanfic #robinsdearest #this one is long

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cali-holland · 4 years

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Forever and Ever, Ch. 2: Family Matters

Tom Holland X Osterfield!Reader, Wedding Series

The morning after, you and Tom are bombarded with the future storm ahead- wedding planning. With the help of both of your families, maybe it won’t all be a complete disaster.

Warnings: sexual themes (tom and the reader are naked in bed together so ya know what that means, allusion to drunk sex (which was two equally drunk and eventually sober consenting adults), lots of talk about sex in general) and swearing

Word Count: 3400

Series Masterlist

Masterlist Tom Holland Masterlist

“Every time I see you baby I get lost

If I'm dreaming, baby, please don't wake me up

Every night I'm with you I fall more in love

Now I'm laying by your side

Everything feels right since you came along

I'm thinking baby

You, yeah, are bringing out a different kind of me

There's no safety net that's underneath, I'm free

Falling all in you”

Fallin’ All in You, Shawn Mendes

~~~

The next morning, you woke up to Tom pressing gentle kisses along your shoulder and up to your neck. You couldn’t help yourself from giggling a little as his feather-light kisses tickled you softly.

“Good morning, fiancée.” Tom mumbled into your skin, and you turned around underneath the covers to face him, a soft smile on your face.

“I could get used to that title.” You teased, leaning in to kiss him as you felt his arms snake around your bare waist, bringing you closer into his warm embrace.

“It’s a good title, but you know what title’s even better?” He asked with a smile, and you bit your lip, shaking your head in faux ignorance. One of his hands trailed up to find your left hand, bringing it above the blankets to show off your shiny new ring. “My beautiful wife for starters.” Tom pressed a kiss to the ring, “Y/N Holland sounds pretty amazing though.”

“It’s got a nice ring to it indeed.” You hummed in agreement. As Tom’s fingers intertwined with yours, his lips found yours again. The intimate kiss soon turned heated with his tongue dipping in between your lips. Moaning into the kiss, he on your waist tightened its grip with his free hand, his other hand still holding onto your left hand. Your free hand found its way to his hair, tugging on his curls and scratching his skull just in the right way to drive him crazy, and you could tell by the way he groaned at your actions that it was.

Wrapped up in each other’s embrace and passionate kisses, you and Tom didn’t hear the footsteps and hushed whispers outside of the bedroom. The moment the door flew open, you and Tom separated, yelling in surprise and pulling the blankets up to cover yourselves.

“Don’t you know how to knock?” Tom grumbled.

“What the fuck were you doing?” Harrison looked at the two of you, a disgusted look on his face. In his hands, he held a tray of pancakes and fruit. Beside him stood Harry and Tuwaine, both sporting equally amused, yet embarrassed faces.

“Do you really want me to answer that?” You questioned, eyes narrowing at him for his interruption.

“Well, we made you breakfast.” Harry said, trying to steer the conversation from the very obvious elephant in the room that you and Tom were clearly naked under the bed sheets.

“So, you two engaged now?” Harrison asked, smiling as he slid the tray over to Tom, who was far less restricted with his movements than you were.

“Yes, we are.” You smiled happily, extending your left hand to show off the ring, your right hand keeping the blankets up to your collarbone. It helped that you could still lean into Tom enough that everything stayed covered.

“Who do you think helped him pick it out?” Your brother snickered, and Tom shot him a glare.

“You’re not supposed to tell her that.” Tom said, but you just rolled your eyes at him. Starting to get antsy beside you, he awkwardly started, “Thank you for breakfast, but could you all, uh, leave now?”

With a few mumbled “right”s and “ew yeah”s, the three boys left just as quickly as they claimed. Tom let out a heavy sigh as you helped yourself to some breakfast, free to move now.

“We’re going to need a lock on that door.” You stated.

“We don’t even have a lock on the bathroom door.” Tom chuckled, eating a rather massive bite of his food.

“Ew, don’t remind me.” You winced. “Do you know how awful it is to walk in on your boyfriend’s brother when you think it’s your boyfriend?”

“I grew up with him. I’ve seen more of Harry than I ever wanted to.” He grimaced, “We could always get our own place once we get married. That way, we’d have more room.”

“More room?” You stopped your eating and raised your eyebrows at him skeptically, despite knowing exactly where his mind was headed. “What exactly would we need more room for, Holland?”

Tom smirked at you, one of his hands finding its way to your stomach as he leaned in closer to you, “You know the Osterfield-Holland hybrids.”

“We are not calling our kids that.” You laughed, pecking his lips lightly.

“No, no, we are. All 8 of them.” He joked, mumbling into your lips.

“Definitely not 8.” You said, and he shook his head. He pulled back to move the tray to a safe, out of the way spot, before he went back to kissing you again. His lips never leaving yours, he shifted onto his back, letting you lean on top of him.

“I want to wake up like this everyday of my life.” Tom mumbled between kisses.

“What? With the boys making us breakfast? That does sound pretty good.” You teased, making him laugh as you looked down at him. Softly, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, letting his thumb brush over your cheek.

“Remember when we first hooked up?” He asked, breaking the romantic silence in the room.

“That was so not a hookup.” You argued defensively and he shook his head.

“No, it definitely was. And you left me, too.” He let out an overdramatic sigh.

“Did you want a hungover Harrison to catch us in bed together?” You joked. Before he could reply, you leaned down and captured his lips with yours once again.

“Ready for the countdown?” Harrison asked Tom, his eyes glazed over from the vodka he’d been drinking. As the blond handed him another shot, Tom could only imagine how drunk he seemed right now too.

“Cheers to 2017.” Tom smiled. They clinked their glasses together before drinking down the burning liquid quickly. Tom slammed the shot glass back down on the hardwood table, and his eyes scanned around the party. With two minutes until midnight, he told himself he needed to find you, but with dozens of people packed into his house, it was almost impossible to spot you. He had made it a new year’s resolution- this year, he’d finally make a move on you. After years of being just friends, he felt like perhaps there was something more between the two of you. He knew he had a whole 365 days to act on his resolution, but his drunken mind was set on tonight, if you’d have him as your New Year’s kiss that is.

Finally, he spotted you across the room with a few friends and Tom shuffled his way through the crowd to meet you. He could tell by how you immediately shouted his name and threw your arms around him that you were drunk, just like him.

“Find your new year’s kiss yet, Tommy?” Your smile was as bright as ever when you stepped out of the hug. Your friends scattered away, leaving you two alone in the crowd of people.

“Yeah, I think so. Come here,” Tom slipped his hand into yours and led you through the party and up the stairs. He knew it probably didn’t look right to sneak off with his best friend’s sister right before midnight, but everyone else was so wasted that they didn’t not and he didn’t really care. If he was going to kiss you right now, he didn’t want an entire drunk party around the two of you.

When you two were finally in his room, you sat down on the bed beside him. Unbeknownst to Tom, you had a little resolution too, one that your drunk self fully intended on accomplishing tonight. Despite the alcohol flowing through his system, Tom looked at you nervously, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Is this alright?”

“It’d be more alright if you kissed me.” You said, hearing the countdown screams downstairs. As everyone else in the house shouted to ring in the New Year, Tom’s lips found yours, moving against them with a bit more messiness than he would’ve liked. You didn’t seem to mind though, your hands going to pull on his hair. He moaned into the kiss as his hands fisted the fabric of your silver dress. The kiss turned sloppily heated with you nibbling on his bottom lip lightly before your tongue slid its way into his mouth.

Feeling your short dress ride up from him grabbing at your hips, you pulled away from him just enough to look at him. Panting breathlessly, “I want this, but do you? Do you really want to do this?”

“I want this. I want you.” And just like that, his lips were back on yours and he shifted you into his lap. It didn’t take long for you two to be, drunkenly, fully enraptured in each other.

The next morning, Tom woke up with a raging hangover. Groaning, he ran a hand over his face and pushed his hair back, before he realized he was naked under his bed sheets. His eyes shot open, remembering different parts of last night. He looked around the room to find you completely gone, not a trace of you was left. And here, he thought something good, something potentially life changing had come out of last night.

In all honesty, he couldn’t remember the precise details. All he knew was that he really wanted you to be his New Year’s kiss and, well, you two definitely rang in the New Year together. Concern started to course through him- why did you leave? Was he that bad that you had to sneak out in the morning?

Deciding he needed some food and some medicine to help with his hangover, he threw on some sweats and made his way to the kitchen. He shuffled in awkwardly as he realized Harrison was already awake, drinking a cup of tea at the table.

“Morning.” Tom mumbled, doing his best to act normal, like he hadn’t slept with his best friend’s sister just mere hours ago.

“You have a hookup last night?” Harrison asked, a smirk playing on his lips. Tom froze up a little; he was not ready for this conversation at all. Chuckling, his friend added, “I heard her sneak out this morning, and you’ve got a massive hickey.”

Tom’s hand shot up to his neck as his face turned beat red. Embarrassed from getting caught, he nodded and cleared his throat, “Yeah, just some, uh, some girl from the party.”

“At least one of us got lucky.”

And, while you and Tom started dating just over a month after that, Harrison was still absolutely clueless about the girl from the New Year’s party.

Hours later, you and Tom were getting ready for dinner with the whole family. Spending nearly all day in bed together, you two both decided it’d be good to tell both of your families in person, so, now, instead of it being an Osterfield family dinner plus Tom, it turned into a “Osterfield-Holland hybrid”.

When you and Tom entered the Osterfield home, you were met with the expectant eyes of your parents and your siblings, even though Harry and Harrison knew already. Smiling, you held up your left hand, letting that do all the talking for you. Warm congratulatory hugs went around, and Harrison, once again, reminded Tom’s brothers that he would be the best man. As your parents headed to the kitchen to finish up preparing dinner, you all found your way to the living room, beers in hand. You made yourself comfortable in Tom’s lap on the recliner, making room for the other five on the large couches.

You smiled as Tom’s left hand dropped down to find yours, his thumb ghosting over your ring. Shifting a little in his lap, you craned your neck to face him, giving him a kiss.

“You two are so gross.” Paddy playfully scoffed, shaking his head at the two of you.

“You think that’s gross? This morning, we-” Harrison started, but Tom was quick to grab the couch pillow beside you and chuck it at your brother, hitting him square in the face. “What was that for?”

Harrison threw the pillow back at Tom, but you, still in Tom’s lap, were the one to catch it. You retaliated, throwing it at him, “Shut up about it, you div.”

“What did you walk in on- oh.” Charlotte cut herself short as she looked at you and Tom, both of you sporting the same embarrassed yet agitated faces at Harrison’s words; her face twisted up in disgust.

“We had just gotten engaged.” Tom tried to defend you two.

“Yeah, last night. Not this morning.” Harry shuddered.

“Fucking rabbits, I swear.” Harrison muttered jokingly, thumbing the pillow now resting in his lap.

“Like I haven’t walked in on you in the kitchen of all places.” You stated. As Harry, Sam, and Paddy all burst out in laughter, Harrison glared at you.

“Okay, please tell me that you’re not talking about my kitchen.” Phil said, coming into the room with Nikki and Dom behind her, and you had never wanted to leave a room faster.

“Fortunately, not yours. Unfortunately, mine.” You replied, rolling your eyes at your brother.

“Technically, it was mine first.” Harrison stated, and he took the opportunity to hit you and Tom with the pillow again, making you yelp in surprise. Phil sent him a look, and he mumbled an apology.

“Anyway, dinner’s ready.” She announced, and you all got up, trailing your way into the dining room. With dinner served, the attention soon fell onto you and Tom.

“So, the engagement party,” Nikki started, and Tom just about choked on his food.

“Engagement party? Mum, it hasn’t even been 24 hours yet.” He reasoned.

“It’s traditionally held by the bride’s family, so Phil will host it. You two won’t need to do anything for it other than provide a guest list and attend the party.” She explained as if it was simple with everything else decided. “We need to host an engagement party before you leave again.”

While Nikki had a solid point, Tom couldn’t hold back the small frown that fell on his lips. That’s right, he had to leave in a few weeks, and then he wouldn’t be back for two months. You would visit him during that time, that much was already set, but he kept thinking that maybe it was a little unfair. You’d have to plan the wedding here when he wasn’t around or you’d have to wait months. It’s not like he assumed wedding planning was easy; he just didn’t think about the timing.

“Well, that gives us three weeks. That’s enough time to plan an engagement party, right?” You asked. Picking up on Tom’s discomfort, you rested your hand on his thigh under the table as a way to comfort him.

“Yes, that should be.” Phil nodded, “We just need a guest list. And any color schemes or plans you have for the wedding. The party doesn’t necessarily have to match, but-“

“What about light pink?” Tom spoke up, before looking over at you, “You always said you loved that color for weddings.”

Smiling at his thoughtfulness, you agreed, “That’s one color.”

“And you two should probably pick out a venue, or at least start looking, before Tom leaves.” Phil added.

“Oh, yes. And we should do the engagement photos before then too. Harry could take them.” Nikki stated, making Harry’s head shoot up from his conversation with Harrison.

“What am I getting signed up for?” He asked, oblivious to the precise conversation topic.

“You’ll be doing our engagement photos.” Tom teased him.

“But will I get paid?”

Nikki rolled her eyes at his question before breaking off into a conversation with Phil.

“Looks like we’ve got some work to do.” You whispered in Tom’s ear so no one else could hear.

Teasingly, Tom asked, “Who knew getting engaged meant planning a wedding?”

Not even a week later, you and Tom were driving all over the greater London area, searching for the perfect venue with your mothers and Harrison, who tagged along for whatever reason. After seeing five different venues, it was safe to say that you and Tom were both extremely tired. As Tom parked in front of a coffee shop near the next venue, he looked over at you with a smile that silently asked “how much longer until this is over”.

“Soon.” You told him quietly, leaning over the console to give him a quick peck on the lips.

“I’m still here.” Harrison reminded you two as you all climbed out of the car. Your mothers drove separately and would be waiting for the three of you at the next place.

“Yeah, we know.” Tom said, slipping his hand in yours, doing his best to discreetly cover your ring in case paparazzi spotted him. You two had decided to hold off on publicly announcing the engagement, wanting to use the engagement photos from Harry (which he was currently at home editing them), but you still proudly wore the unmissable ring on your left hand.

“Why did you come anyway?” You asked, and Harrison just shrugged, opening the door for you two.

“Best man duties, I don’t know.” He replied.

“I think it’s the maid of honor that helps plan the wedding, not the best man.” You stated, stepping up to the counter. Once all three of you ordered and paid, you all waited on the side for your much needed drinks. Seeing as no one was really in there, the wedding talk continued.

“Who’s your maid of honor going to be?” Harrison asked.

“Charlotte.”

“And because of that, I’ll never hear the end of this from my brothers. Why can’t I have multiple best mans?” Tom groaned, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning on you as he dropped his head into your neck. You laughed, a hand coming up to ruffle his hair.

“Tom, I love you, but you can’t have multiple “best”s, and besides, man is singular.” You teased.

“But you two are both my best friends.” He reasoned, standing up and you turned around in his arms to look at him with raised eyebrows. Harrison, unintentionally, matched your look exactly, as if both of you were questioning his comment. “You know what, I’m not even going to try to fix that statement. All I know is Harry, Sam, and even Paddy won’t leave me alone about just being groomsmen.”

“Thank god I don’t have a brother.” Harrison sighed in relief.

“I better be friends with whoever you end up marrying. You’re in my wedding party, I better be in yours.” You joked, but there was a sense of seriousness in your voice.

“You know that’s not going to happen. Haz can’t get a date, much less actually get married.” Tom teased, and Harrison sent him an unamused glare. Laughing you reached up to pinch your brother’s reddened cheeks.

“It’s okay, Hazzy, you’ll find someone someday.” You said in your best, teasing baby voice. He swatted away your hand in faux annoyance.

“I hate you two.” He grumbled.

The barista called out your names, and you three grabbed your drinks before quickly leaving the coffee shop, still discussing Harrison’s hypothetical wedding party (Tom threatened to kick him out of the car if he didn’t say Tom would be his best man too).

The seventh venue option was one that Nikki had suggested; she had once photographed a shoot there and thought it had potential for a wedding. You held onto Tom’s hand, walking around the beautiful park with him, Nikki, Phil, and Harrison, all of you discussing potential spots for a wedding aisle.

“What about here?” Tom asked, coming to a stop in front of some steps that led up to a fountain.

“Tom, you might have said something useful for once.” Harrison said, looking at the astounded looks on Nikki’s and Phil’s faces.

“Is this the spot?” Nikki turned to you and Tom.

You smiled softly, taking in the scene. The fountain was on a stone platform, and the platform itself was curved parallel to the fountain with large green hydrangeas separating the platform from the large grassy area. It looked simply magical. To top it all off, the park was secluded enough that you two could pull off a private wedding.

“Yeah, this is it.” You confirmed, and Tom squeezed your hand reassuringly before leaning over to kiss you. As if on cue, your phone buzzed in your pocket with a new text from Harry to a group chat with you and Tom.

‘I want photo creds’, the text read with an attachment to the edited pictures from the engagement photoshoot.

“What do you say, future wifey? Want to post some of these?” Tom asked you, smiling at the new pictures on his phone.

“Let’s do it, future hubby.”

~~~

Tag List: @viagracex @theamazingtomholland @Hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @harrisonosterfieldhazmyheart @joyleenl @t-o-m-hollands @lonikje @sleepybesson @sunkisseddreamer @hollandsamor @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @gorrillaglue23 @petersoftboyparker @musicalkeys @duskholland @biebsmylife95 @dummiesshort @perspectiveparker

Tom Holland Tag List: @quaksonhehe @tomkindholland

Series Tag List: @thefallenbibliophilequote @wassup-peoples @thevelvetseries @greatpizzascissorstaco @tomhollandsotherpinkytoe @asonofpeter

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fanfic #tom holland series #tom holland fluff

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buck-nialled · 3 years

Text

Undertow - S. Mendes (III)

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CH III: A Cheeseball Connection

Chapter I, Chapter II

Shawn maintained a relaxed demeanor as he entered the mall behind Y/N. Truthfully, he felt incredibly out of his element. The only shopping he participates in takes place at the local food markets or surf shops lining the way to the beaches. Since his younger sister obtained her driver’s license the only motive for driving to the shopping center diminished without objection from Shawn or Aaliyah.

“Any idea where to go?” Brian leans over and whispers to Shawn as the door swings closed behind them. Y/N stood in front of them, still attempting to disguise herself in one of Shawn’s many shirts and jeans with a belt secured to its tightest notch.

“No clue.” He sighs, gazing at the building’s interior alongside Y/N. “I guess we could start with...undergarments,” Shawn suggested awkwardly through his teeth. Brian quirked an eyebrow skeptically in his friend’s direction.

“Yeah...this was a bad idea. Call her.” Connor instructs, now earning a look of confusion from Shawn.

The boy obeys anyway, digging his phone from the pocket of his shorts. “Who?”

“You know who.” Heaving a breath, Shawn hesitantly enters the digits he had memorized by heart and brings the phone to his ear.

“Hey, Liyah. Are you busy today? I need your help with something.” Shawn bites his lip, pausing momentarily. “It’s a...shopping emergency.” He grimaces.

His sister arrived quickly considering the drive she would have to make from his family’s house. Shawn wonders if she drove the speed limit but wouldn’t be surprised if she surpassed it a few miles, or ten. The mall could be considered Aaliyah’s haven, after all. When she met her brother’s eyes, she nearly sprinted over to the table the three had occupied at the food court.

“I’m so glad you called! What is it this time? Ditching plaid, closet restocks-” she takes a deep inhale, staring up at her older brother in awe. “Are you finally getting a haircut?”

Shawn does not try to shield the offense taking over his face. He grumbled a quick, “no” and motioned toward Y/N who was sitting beside him.

“This is Y/N, she--”

“Oh my gosh! You’re the girl from the news. The one who washed up.” Aaliyah interrupted, aiming a stern finger in Y/N’s direction. “I’m so sorry you had to deal with that…”

“That’s okay...amnesia is rough but I'm getting through."

"Oh no," the girl shakes her head, now aiming a finger at Shawn. "I meant dealing with my brother. I don't know how you do it." She whispers the last bit to Y/N, whose lips quirk up afterward.

"Anyways..." Shawn cuts in, glaring at his sibling. "We called because Y/N needs some new clothes."

"Shawn and Connor tell me you’re an expert,” Y/N adds. A grin stretches upon Aaliyah's face at the high praise.

“Anybody can be a fashion expert next to these two.” She jutted a thumb towards the two boys, who were not any less insulted than before. “But yes, I do have quite the taste. Come on, I know just where to go!” Before anybody could object, Aaliyah was beckoning Y/N from her seat and pulling her into one of the nearby stores. The two boys try keeping up with their violent pace of steps. Right as they reached the entrance, Aaliyah held up a hand to stop them.

“Uh-uh. You guys can’t come.” Folding her arms, Aaliyah stands in the doorway to the store.

“Why not? If I’m paying I should--”

“Uh...dude.” Connor elbows him, eyes flickering to something behind his sister and Y/N. Shawn follows Connor’s gaze, finding a mannequin donning close to nothing but a thin, lacy pair of underwear and brassiere with similar color and fabric. Gulping, Shawn nods in understanding and steps backward.

“Fine,” he mutters, digging his card from his wallet and stretching it out for Aaliyah to grab excitedly. “Don’t go crazy, and keep checking your phone if I text you--”

“Yeah, yeah.” His sister only waves him off, pocketing the plastic and giggling with anticipation as she dragged Y/N further into the store. The two boys wander off to the food court to satisfy their growing hunger and impatience, leaving Y/N beneath Aaliyah’s watch.

“Alright, what’s your color?” The younger asks, looking towards Y/N expectantly.

“My...my what?”

“Your color. You know, the color of clothes that compliments you best? You have to own something in your color.”

“I-I’m not sure if I know...my color.” Aaliyah hums, perusing all of the hues and tones strung around them on display.

“Well, I think blue would suit you well…” She pokes through the different sets and items of clothing, before retrieving something worth trying on. “Here, what do you think of this?” Her grin and motioning hand told Y/N she should be smiling and nodding along with her. But she could not help but be confused by the fabric.

“It looks a little...lacking.” She pinches the underwear between her fingers, studying how the front patch dwindles into a piece of string. “Where’d the rest of it go?”

“The-the rest of what?” Aaliyah perches her eyebrows. “This is all of it.”

“Oh…” Y/N responds in a hushed tone. “Is there something a little more…” She eyes the lace, thinking how effortlessly it could be ripped.

“I get what you mean.” Aaliyah doesn’t let her finish and shoves the thong back into its rightful place. While walking to a different section of the store, she calls to Y/N, “Come on, grandma, there’s some boyshorts right over here.”

After successfully compiling a few pairs of undergarments (and allowing Aaliyah to slide one slightly promiscuous set into her hand) the two girls made their way to the register. After scanning each item and informing them of their total, Y/N tilted her head at the familiar term. Dollars, she thought to herself, I have some of those.

“You take dollars?” she quips, in shock that land-walkers use the same currency.

“Yes ma’am, we do,” the associate replies warily.

“Oh, great!” Y/N cheers, reaching up to her ears and unclipping the jewelry. After successfully removing both of the tiny sand dollars occupying her earlobes, she sets them down onto the counter, ignoring Aaliyah’s bemused expression. “Will this cover it?” Appalled, the woman behind the register lets out a snort a few moments later.

“Oh, sure. In Atlantis!” Her tone morphed into something sour, making Y/N frown. “Sorry, ladies. Not gonna work.”

“She’s just kidding around,” Aaliyah chuckles, cheeks turning red. “I have a card--”

“Please, allow me.” A gentleman steps between the two girls with a black card in his grip. His smile was charming, voice smooth. And Aaliyah was not one to object to free clothes. “Thank you.” Aaliyah sends a polite smile his way, before turning to Y/N and nodding her head at him. She got the clue and thanked him similarly as he swiped his card in the machine.

“Of course, every girl should feel like a princess.” The sentence sounded innocent to the average pedestrian’s ears, but Y/N caught a sinister hiss beneath it. No more words were exchanged between the group and soon, the two girls ventured out of the store with bags in hand. Aaliyah retrieved her phone to message Shawn, alerting him that he and Connor could join them somewhere.

“Okay, I just told them to meet us at--” She looked up and paused, eyeing Y/N carefully.

“What?”

“You’re earrings. You left them on the counter.” She realizes, turning back to the shop they had just left.

“Oh,” Y/N spoke, bringing her hand to one of her empty ears. The absence of the sand dollars in both was further proof of her forgotten treasures. “That’s alright. They weren’t that important.” She shrugs. At the very least, the lack of the sea creatures on her ears would make tracing her down more difficult. Leaving behind a pair of earrings she could easily craft again was the least of her worries.

“I still can’t believe you tried paying with sand dollars.” Aaliyah’s giggles ricocheted off of the tiled floors of the mall as the two continued walking to their next destination. Y/N only shrugged, joining Aaliyah in her laughter.

“They didn’t specify.”

The two girls eventually faded from the man’s sight, caught up in laughter, and enthusiastic for the next shop, which Aaliyah promised held much less revealing options.

“Sir? Sir,” the associate repeated. Finally, the man’s head snapped back to face her, ice-cold eyes and pale skin staring her down in question. “Huh?”

“Your receipt,” she spoke gently, tearing the strip of paper from the machine and proffering it to him. He takes it without uttering a word of thanks, eyes darting down to the minuscule sand dollars abandoned on the counter. Prior to turning and exiting the establishment, he swipes the earrings too. As he continues his stroll through the building, he finds himself chuckling much like Y/N and Aaliyah did moments before. His pale hand, clenched in a fist unravels before his eyes while he studies the two sand dollars. The same kind Tertis’s daughter always adorned.

“How is this for a trace?” He mutters to himself, a proud feeling of vengeance swirling in his chest. His moment of gratification is interrupted once his phone begins chiming. He buries the jewelry back into his pockets with a sigh and exchanges them for the call.

“Hello, son!” He answers begrudgingly, not wanting to lose track of Y/N and her new friend, whom he assumes is her new host on land.

“Hey, dad. Hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.” the boy greets, afraid his father would reprimand him again. Oftentimes his dad never picked up the phone. Whenever he did get an answer, a scolding was always waiting for him on the other line. Ripley was always private about his business trips, to his wife and son who awaited him on shore, every detail of his occupation was confidential. Ripley was surprised himself to not be caught and charged for treason and reprimanded himself in the beginning for starting an affair with the land-walker he now dubbed the love of his life. But he was charmed by her otherworldly aura the moment he met her. It was a force unstoppable to both of them.

“No, Wes. You’re alright,” he sighs. “But I must go soon for a meeting. Was there something you needed to tell me?” Wesley knew the real question: is what you have to say important? Judging past calls between the father and son, anything Wesley had to say was never of utmost importance or urgency to his father. And though he desperately wanted to spill the news to his father of a girl he had met on the beach just the other day and the miraculous story of how she washed ashore with amnesia, his hopes to gain his father’s interest through this modern meet-cute story were little to none.

“No, that’s alright. Just...call me when you’re free?” Wesley questions.

“I will,” Ripley confirms, despite never even living up to that promise. “Tell your mother I said hello and to stay safe. I’ll be home before you know it.”

“Ooh, this is pretty,” Shawn commented as he pulled a shirt out of one of the many shopping bags placed around his room. Aaliyah went overboard in his opinion, buying more than the basic necessities for Y/N, but at least Y/N had more than his old hoodies to wear.

Y/N hummed as she looked up from where she was folding a few pairs of jeans. “Yeah, Aaliyah has good taste.”

Shawn chuckled, obviously very aware of his sister’s shopping obsession. “She would live at the mall if she could.”

“I think she snagged some clothes for herself while we were there.”

“That wouldn’t surprise me.” They both laughed and returned to taking out and folding the numerous garments.

I could never get tired of that laugh, Shawn thought to himself as he stole another glance at the girl across the room. It was nice to hear someone laughing that wasn’t Brian or Connor (or Wesley whenever he beat Shawn in a competition).

It took them about an hour to take the tags off of everything and set up the little cubby contraption Shawn found in his closet for Y/N to put her stuff in. Neither of them were very good at putting things together, especially considering that Y/N had never seen a screwdriver in her life and wasted five minutes trying to figure out what it was used for before Shawn helped her.

“You land walkers are weird,” she commented at one point, doing her best to get the tiny screw in the right spot so she could twist it in.

“Says the mermaid with legs,” Shawn shot back, earning a playful punch from Y/N.

“You say to the girl who saved your life.”

“I could’ve saved myself,” he claimed, dropping the screw he picked up a second ago to cross his arms in an attempt to look intimidating.

“Sure didn’t seem like that,” Y/N said, looking at Shawn with the utmost confidence. “You saved my life. Oh, strange girl, you’re my hero. It’s too bad I can’t use my surfing skills to woo you now.” She pretended to faint, opening one eye and grinning at the unamused look on the face of the boy beside her.

“You’re just asking for this,” was all he said before attacking her sides with wiggling fingers. Y/N screeched with laughter.

“Shawn! S-stop!” She rolled around violently on the floor, trying her best to get away from the torturous sensation. “Please!” His slender fingers dancing across her hips made her breath hitch and filled her stomach with a tumbling, foreign feeling. Her organs were tying themselves in knots but wanted to unravel at the same time, and this blissful rush of adrenaline--she has never experienced something like it--coursed through her veins like a race track.

“Never!” Her giggles were once again music to his ears. He leaned down closer to her face and Y/N could see the mischievous glint in his eyes. His fingers slowed so she could catch her breath, face so close that if he leaned in just a little more, their lips would touch. His hands grabbed hold of her arms, pinning them to the ground with little effort.

“Your eyes are pretty,” he muttered, eyes locked on the swirl of color in her irises. The aqua rings surrounding her pupils glinted, resembling that of dawn’s rays shining across the seas.

“Your hair is curly.”

“What?”

“I thought we were stating facts.” She smiled and he couldn’t help but chuckle. His head dropped to her neck, curls tickling her chin.

“You just ruined it.”

“Ruined what?”

“The moment.”

“Moment?” she asked. “You mercilessly attacked me--”

“Tickled.”

“--tickled me, then said ‘you have pretty eyes.’” The dopiness of her voice made Shawn roll his eyes.

“Well at least I have a romantic bone-”

The door whipped open and both their heads snapped over to see Connor standing in the doorway, a look of utter confusion present on his face.

“What in the world is happening here?” He stepped over the various tools in his path to the two. “I heard screaming and then silence so I assumed Shawn tried to murder you but now I’m finding him sitting on top of you like he’s about to either kiss or choke you.”

Both their cheeks went red at his comment, Shawn scrambling off Y/N and onto his feet. Y/N sat up, pulling her hoodie down to cover her stomach.

“It’s nothing, Connor. We’re just playing around like friends, which you wouldn’t know about since you don’t have any of those.”

“Ooh, burn,” Y/N said, high-fiving the hand Shawn held out towards her. “He taught me that today.” She smiles gleefully at Connor.

“Yeah, yeah. Just try to not sound like you’re dying, alright? I’m not going to care enough to check and make sure you’re alive next time.” He left without another word, pulling the door shut behind him.

“I’m tired of trying to put this together. Snack break?” Shawn suggested, holding out a hand for Y/N to pull herself up with.

“I’m in,” she replied, taking his hand and standing up.

They were almost to the kitchen when Shawn stopped abruptly, causing Y/N to bump into him.

“Don’t you want to wear some of your new clothes?” He turned around to face her.

“Do you want me to?”

“No, I just figured you wouldn’t want to stay in an old and kinda nasty hoodie all day.”

“It’s comfortable so it’s not bothering me. I’ll give it back later” She shrugged nonchalantly and walked around him, opening a few cabinets in search of some food. Shawn melted at her words. A girl wearing his clothes? What kind of dream was this? “Where do you guys keep the snacks?”

“Here.” He opened a cabinet on the other side, leaving Y/N in awe of the sheer amount of food piled in it. “And...you can keep the hoodie. It looks good on you.”

“What even is this?” She pulled out a transparent cylinder of cheeseballs, slightly disgusted yet amazed at how orange the little balls were.

“You’ve never had cheeseballs before?” His mouth dropped open, surprised anyone could be deprived of what he considered to be the best snack on the planet. Granted, she had spent the majority of her life below the surface, but Shawn wouldn’t even let that be a valid excuse for never experiencing such a delicious snack.

“It’s so orange.” She opened the top and sniffed. “And it smells weird. Is it good?”

“I have so much to teach you,” Shawn said as he took the jug from her hands, guiding her to the table to give her what he would consider the experience of a lifetime.

One hour and one half-eaten plastic bucket of cheese balls later, Y/N and Shawn sat across from one another at the small table, fingertips, and tongues coated in orange, cheese-flavored dust.

Shawn’s phone began ringing erratically with a shrill tone, causing Y/N to flinch. After retrieving it from his pocket, he sighed and announced, “Shoot! I forgot I had work today.” Many human words were still unfamiliar to Y/N, but work must be a universal term people loathe everywhere. Even in Atlantis, she grew up learning to hate the term. Especially these last few months while preparing for the wedding was when hearing it became intolerable.

Work on your smile!

You better work on that posture young lady! No queen of Atlantis swims down the aisle with a slouch.

How about working more on that attitude instead of those silly little daydreams of yours. Your future is down here, not up in the clouds!

Oh, how things change. “You should come with me,” Shawn offers with a smile. “I could show you around the market, introduce you to some friends. We also need some more groceries." He knew he was growing too attached to this new friend of his. What is the point of having her build acquaintances if she will disappear in a few days? This coping mechanism--and slight manipulation--of getting her accustomed to the human world was wrong in so many ways, he knew. Especially now that she was deemed a criminal by her people in Atlantis, it is only a matter of time that she would be swept away from him. The forces pulling the two apart were undeniable.

But so was Shawn’s attraction to her gleaming eyes and salty tendrils. The laughter he wanted to make his new alarm belonged solely to her and he was damn selfish to keep it beside him all of the time. But as far as he could tell, Y/N nodding her head eagerly with a beaming set of teeth showed no objection on her part.

“I’ll go put clothes on! I mean...different clothes.” Her airy giggles and the light pattering of her footsteps imbibed Shawn’s senses once more, and suddenly it was like he was underwater with her himself.

“Dude, hey.” Connor’s fingers snapped incessantly before Shawn’s face until the boy shook his head, blinking up at his friend.

“You alright?” Shawn brought a hand up to rest his cheek in, setting his elbow on the table as his eyes wandered back over to Y/N’s--their--no, his bedroom door.

“Yeah…” It was the least convincing response Connor witnessed to date, resulting in a long sigh and a comforting grip against Shawn’s shoulder.

“I know she’s a great girl and all, but she told us she’s not planning--”

Shawn refused to let him finish. “I know…” The real irony was that Connor barely knew the whole truth himself, compared to the intel Y/N gave Shawn days prior. So far, the point she made of people “hunting her down” had proven useless. But Shawn wasn’t complaining. He hopes things will stay that way.

“I’m ready! Oh, are you coming with us?” Y/N reapproaches the table excitedly seeing Connor standing beside Shawn. Connor glanced back to Shawn, who was already enraptured by the sight of her, yet again. It is a look so much brighter than he had ever seen take over his best friend’s face, and he is beginning to believe the girl who rescued Shawn from the water might have taken first place over surfing.

“No, I think I’m gonna stay in. You two have fun, though,” Connor says, before returning to his bedroom and closing the door. Shawn saw right through his friend’s scheming and made a mental note to thank him later on. Y/N, however, stood oblivious, and studied the bucket of orange orbs still on the table before asking:

“Shawn, does the market have cheeseballs?” A wide grin breaks out on the boy’s face.

“I’m sure we can find some.”

Look out for the next part of Undertow coming 2/12/2021!

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softboywriting · 4 years

Text

Can’t Hurry Love | Peter Mendes

Summary: You and Peter have been best friends for years and one day you wake up to realize you’ve fallen for him. When he finds out you’ve never been kissed, he decides to offer himself up as practice. One thing leads to another and well, maybe you’re meant to be more than friends. [friends to lovers] [first kiss]

Word Count: 2k

|Masterlist in Bio|

Note: None of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics.

No one tells you that falling in love with your best friend is the most terrifying feeling and simultaneously the best and most freeing relief. You don't know when it happened, what changed in you. You don't know why it happened. There is no pin pointing the moment you realized that your best friend Peter is the only person you want to share your life with. There wasn't a dynamic shift, a romantic gesture, a heart felt confession of love. Nothing. One day you woke up and met him at the end of the block to catch your bus to the college campus and your heart did a little flip flop when you saw him.

Perhaps you had been dreaming that night and you don't remember. That was your initial explanation for your new found feelings. You know, those temporary feelings that come with a dream about someone. It has happened before, not with Peter, but with other friends, crushes, random strangers you met in classes. But the feelings never went away, they became more insistent and every touch, every joke, every gesture became more than just a friendly feeling. They became soul crushing, heart clenching emotional moments that you replayed in your head every night before sleeping.

So here you are, three months later, walking up to Peter's house with your friend Haley. It's been hell, living with this secret and you've only told Haley about it. You're here for a party that Peter's brothers are throwing. They are going to the college hockey championships. It's a big deal around here. You brought Haley since she is absolutely gaga for Raul and she's been begging you to get her in with him since his last break up. She will be a good fit, and a far better girlfriend than any of the other girls Raul has dated. That is, if Haley can hit it off with him.

The moment you get in the front door the house is packed with people. Wall to wall partying. You part from Haley as she wanders into the kitchen and you head up the stairs. You know just where Peter's room is, you've only been here a couple thousand times since you were thirteen. Up the stairs, to the right, across the guest room and up the stairs in the closet to Peter's room in the attic. Could he have the guest room as his bedroom? Sure. But where's the fun in that? The attic is bigger and way more private.

You push open the door at the top of the stairs and you're hit with a gust of cold air. Typical. The balcony doors on the far side of the room don't latch properly because the frame broke years ago. He's gotten used to the freezing cold room in the winter, it's nothing new. He has a heater, a desk top thing he got online but it doesn't do much.

"You're here!" Peter cheers and gets up from his desk, discarding his console controller on the seat. "I've been wondering when you'd show up."

"Sorry, I was late because Haley was getting ready." You sigh softly. "She really wants to hit it off with Raul."

Peter chuckles. "Is she pretty?"

"Yeah of course. It's Haley. You remember? Blonde, short, great clothes."

"Oh! Yeah. She's going to school for fashion design right? Yeah she's cute, way nicer than his last girlfriend. Raul will probably like her. Did you introduce them?"

"No, I ditched her and came up here. She knows how to flirt."

Peter laughs. "You're so mean."

You shrug. "I don't like parties and I'm not playing matchmaker."

"I know." He puts his arm around your shoulders and walks you to the massive beanbag chair at the end of his bed. "I have my own bottle of whiskey. We can have our own party. Its even the apple kind."

You sink down into the soft beanbag and he drops next to you, reaching for said bottle on the bookshelf beside it. You haven't drank together since the feelings started, and you know it's a bad idea to start.

"You want to play never have I ever?"

"Uh, sure. But I know basically everything about you?"

"Not everything."

"Yeah okay." You laugh and he puts his legs over yours. "Alright, never have I ever accidentally stolen something."

Peter takes a drink from the bottle and grimaces. "That's not fair. You know it haunts me."

You smirk. "Well, I told you I know everything."

"Alright fine. Never have I ever had a first kiss." He drinks and passes the bottle to you.

You don't take a drink and pick at the hem of your shirt. This has taken a sharp turn very quickly.

"Wait, what, for real?"

You shake your head. "I've never been kissed."

"What?"

"You heard me."

Peter takes the bottle from between you and sets it aside on the floor. "How? Why?"

"It just hasn't happened."

"But you've had a boyfriend?"

You shake your head. "Never had that either. I just don't like getting close to people. I thought you knew this?"

"So you don't know how to kiss?"

"I know how! I just haven't done it yet. It's not that weird okay?"

Peter leans forward to look at you. "Do you wanna know what it's like?"

"Yeah, one day I guess."

"I mean, I could be your first kiss. I'm someone you trust and I'm not going to judge you if it's bad."

Your heart stops, a cold sick feeling grips your stomach. Does he know about your feelings? No, he's just trying to be nice. He wants you to be comfortable. He doesn't know. He can't. You're going to have to play this off. "I don't know. We're friends, what if it's weird?"

Peter repositions himself so he is sitting in front of you. "Never have I ever wanted to kiss my best friend." He takes a drink and hands you the bottle.

You roll your eyes, stomach aching. "That's not fair."

"Drink."

"I don't-"

"I know okay? Shawn told me. He said he overheard you talking about me with someone. I know you have a crush on me."

"What?! Shawn doesn't know anything!" You shove the bottle at Peter and get up. "I can't- you just believe him?!"

"Why are you getting so defensive?"

"Because! It's not- I don't- I'm scared okay?!" You ball your fists in your hoodie pocket and stare down at the floor.

Peter shifts and stands up, you see his sock covered feet in front of yours. "Can I talk now?"

"Yeah, sorry." You mumble.

He puts his hands out in front of him, palms up for you to grab them. "Hold my hands."

You do as he says and he closes his fingers around yours.

"It's okay that you have a crush on me. We've been close for years now. I know you have a hard time opening up to people and that's why you don't date. It's normal that you'd develop feelings for me since I'm someone you trust and you're comfortable with."

"But you don't like me like that."

"Actually," he chuckles and squeezes your hands. "I do. I'm sorry I brought it up like this, that wasn't fair."

"It's okay."

"Look at me, please?"

You look up and he leans in and kisses you quickly. Just a small press of lips before you can fully register that it happened. Your body reacts nonetheless. Heart pounding, a cold sweat on your neck. It feels like a dream but more like a nightmare.

"You okay?"

"I think I'm going to puke."

"Oh." Peter steps back and grabs his trash can, holding it up for you. "That's not reassuring."

"No. It's not you. It's me. I'm freaking out."

Peter sets the can down and wraps his arms around you as you start to shake. "It's fine, everything is fine. Take a deep breath."

"Peter no!" You feel it happening and then it comes up onto Peter's chest, not quite throw up but still gross like bile. "No no no."

Peter steps back and sighs shakily. "This isn't the worst thing." He pulls his hoodie off and tosses it aside into the hamper. "It's fine, don't worry. It's fine."

You sit down on the bed and cover your face. "It's not fine. I just upchucked on you!"

"You did and it's fine." Peter hands you a water bottle from somewhere and sets the can by your feet. "I'm washable and so are the clothes."

"I'm so sorry."

"Why? Because your body reacted? I've done worse." He sits down on the floor across from you and stretches his legs out. "Maybe if we keep talking it'll get easier."

"Or I'll puke more."

He bumps his foot against yours and strokes it over your ankle comfortingly. "Are you scared we can't be friends? Or are you upset about something else?"

"I guess I've never been in this situation and I'm scared we won't work out if we go for more than friends. I don't want to ruin my friendship with you. You're my best friend, I can't lose you."

"That's okay. We don't have to do anything you don't want to. Just because we have feelings doesn't mean we have to act on them."

"I know but...we... everything is messed up now. I'd rather go back to suffering in silence." You take a big drink and rinse your mouth out.

Peter pushes up off the floor and kicks the trash can aside. He crawls on the bed behind you and pulls you back against him. "Let's just start slow. We'll test the boundaries and figure out if we really want each other."

You tuck your feet against his and he pulls the blanket from behind him over the both of you. "Cuddling?"

"Mmmhmm. The most basic form of affection."

"I don't know about that." You grab his hand on your chest and put your fingers through his. "I feel like there are more basic things."

"Oh shh." Peter chuckles and presses his nose against your hair. "Can I confess something now?"

"Yeah."

"I've wanted to be more than friends for over a year now. So, you're not alone in feeling conflicted about everything."

You turn in his hold and face him. His arm falls on the bed between you. "Really?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" He laughs.

You reach up and touch his nose. It's so cute when he laughs and it crinkles up. "I was scared."

"So was I."

"Do you think we should be together?"

"Yeah. I think knowing everything about each other and yet we still have these feelings means something. I think it's special. You can't hurry love and we definitely haven't done that."

You nod. "Can I kiss you? I want to try."

Peter nods.

You take in a deep shaky breath and scoot closer. "Close your eyes."

He does as you say.

You press your lips against his and he doesn't react. It's just lips on lips.

"Can I kiss you back?" Peter mutters.

"Uh-huh."

Peter slides his hand into your hair and cups the back of your head. Suddenly it's not just an awkward lips on lips situation, it's a real kiss coming from your real best friend. He licks against your lip and you freeze. "It's okay," he says into your mouth. "We can stop, just say when."

"Stop."

Peter pulls back and looks at you, a smile spreading across his face. "How was your first kiss?"

You lick your lip and feel a flush rising up your neck. "Good. You're...you're pretty good."

"Are you sure? Maybe I'm really really horrible but you have nothing to compare to." He teases and you shove him.

"Peter! That's not funny!"

He cackles and gathers you into his arms. "Okay okay. I promise I won't tease you about it. I'm glad it wasn't bad."

You tuck your face into his shoulder and wrap your arms around his back. He smells good, like laundry and body wash. "I'm not so scared now."

"Good." He rubs his hand up your back and plays with your hair. "I'm not going to let you feel unsafe. I promise, I'll be everything you need."

"Pinky promise?"

Peter laughs softly and hooks his pinky with yours. "Pinky promise."

End

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

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics.*****

#peter mendes #mendes triplet #mendes triplets #mendes triplets au #peter mendes au #peter mendes fic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes imagine

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tinycrow · 3 years

Text

I don’t believe in miracles

Chapter 1: This secret

She was speeding down the highway, a plain black vehicle, weaving around traffic where she safely could. In the driver’s seat, a woman with green eyes and messy black hair pulled back into a tight braid flickered in and out of reality minutely before stabilizing with a grimace. Bouncing excitably in the passenger seat was, unmistakably, a baby of a non-human race. Their fragile protoform was bare for the world to see with no armour to speak of. The seatbelt clenched tighter around the precious bundle of metal and youth, a gentle reprimand emanating from all around them. The young one stilled, but their little helm turned curiously to look back through the rear window.

From around several cars’ worth of space behind them, a silver car quickly approached. They were stalled by the traffic between them, for now.

~ Ray to Shawn. I’ve got someone on my tail. Evacuate through the ground bridge. I don’t want anyone hurt if I end up having to fight. ~

~ Shawn here. Gotcha, sunshine. Just come home, both of you. ~

The silent communication ended, and her engine revved as she sped up. An exit was coming up, and she wanted to give as little indication as possible as to her intentions. Her sensors let her know that the silver car was almost directly behind her now, doggedly matching her lane for lane. She wondered if it would try to run her off the road.

At the last possible second, she swerved onto the exit ramp, barely missing the barrier. She knew the other car would be forced to take the next exit or risk an accident to double back. In comparison to the other car, she wasn’t the greatest driver, but she was fiercely protective and maybe a tad reckless. Her passenger chirped in excitement, unaware of the danger they were in.

The woman’s brow wrinkled as she flickered in and out again. Not relaxing in the slightest, but not wanting to crash, she reluctantly slowed down. She may not see her pursuer anymore, but she wouldn’t put it past them to surprise her. She decided to take a roundabout way to the warehouse that was her target destination.

Perhaps luck was on her side because she made it without incident. Tapping into the controller that opened the door, she wheeled herself in and closed the door. She then encoded a request to the Gate Room. Soon, a portal opened in midair toward the back of the room. The dark vehicle hurried through with her enclosed passenger.

:: Unknown Location ::

Once on the other side, the vehicle visibly sagged on its axels in relief. The woman in the driver’s seat blinked out of existence.

“Sunshine! You made it!” A man with long hair pulled back called from a nearby console. With a few more presses of his fingers to the on-screen keyboard, the portal closed behind her, and a loud humming from a nearby machine quieted.

The sound of shifting metal and displaced air filled the quiet, and the black car stood up. In its place was a feminine figure of softly curved metal and dark armour plating. Two black door-wings twitched anxiously behind her. Her pedes daintily stepped forward with the youthful bundle now held in her arms.

“Shawn,” she greeted the smiling human. The ‘baby’ chirred in curiosity at the man, though she held them firmly.

The man turned from the console, hands on his hips and no visible fear on his features. Kneeling her much larger form down, she let the curious bundle meet the man.

“And that must be our new kid,” he said gently, “Cute fella’. Hey there, little guy. I’m Shawn Jenkins. Everyone calls me Shawn, except for… well, you’ll meet them later.”

The young one simply stared for a second, and then chirped happily, reaching small hands to touch him. The large, metal woman muttered a “No touchy,” and quickly stood up again. The looks of disappointment from both the baby and the man caused her to laugh.

“I can’t tell who’s more disappointed, you or the kid.”

She rocked said kid slowly, smiling down at her young one apologetically. “Sorry, my little one. Not until I’m sure that you’ve learnt to be gentle with humans.”

“I don’t mind. I’m not made out of glass, y’ know.”

“I know, Shawn. However, I don’t let any of my youngest interact with humans until they’ve gotten more control of their motor functions, just as a general rule. The cleanup is messy.”

It was a topic that had been discussed before, but no one wanted to argue with ‘mama bear’. Instead, Shawn shrugged, and the two headed toward the doors. A set of doors matching the estimated max heights of each species was available, though Shawn went toward the big door. They exited the building into a small but bustling community.

The buildings were big, but not reaching the heights of skyscrapers. This tight-knit community was sectioned into roughly three parts around a central power source, all within a tall dome-shaped forcefield protecting them from the raging storm outside its perimeter. The three sectors were: Industrial, Residential, and Business. Dividing the buildings and sectors were wide streets able to comfortably fit large vehicles moving both ways.

People, robotic and human alike, peppered the streets, sometimes hauling equipment or other supplies. Each one had their own set of tasks to fulfil, so they tended to move with purpose toward their destinations. Besides, no one wanted to be caught out in the cold, and boy it was cold outside.

They talked as they walked.

“I’m headed to the Nursery,” Ray said, “Where are you headed?”

“I’m going to grab some more people to help me with the crates in the warehouse.”

“You could com’ them. That way you wouldn’t need to leave the building.”

Upon closer inspection, every human could be seen wearing an earpiece of some sort. They came in all sorts of shapes and colours—some of them looked very much like earrings, and some like hearing aids—but everyone had a piece that served as the ‘speaker’ and then a ‘mic’ part (not always attached). It wasn’t just a fashion statement. Every earpiece was designed to look innocuous and perform as a communication device. There were a few public channels separating business and social. Then there were the private calls. They were all generally referred to as “the com”, or in other words the ‘communication servers’.

He shook his head. “Nah… I’ve been meaning to say hi to Brian anyway.”

She hummed in response, giving more attention to her young one who shivered in the cold. Transforming, she said goodbye to Shawn and hurried to Residential. Luckily, the Gate Room was on the border between Business and Residential, so the Nursery was practically next door.

This was done on purpose in case of evacuation. Most people were working in Business or relaxing at home, so it would be easy to quickly run to the Gate Room to be teleported to safety. The only problem was that the portion of the population working in Industrial would be the furthest from the gate room.

:: California, America ::

Sideswipe revved his engine in frustration. He was going in circles trying to find out where the strange bot/con could have gone to. The nearest district seemed to be mostly industry and warehousing... Not the worst place to hide, but it shouldn’t have been possible to be this good at hiding, not with the kind of radiation that the stranger was giving off. He knew he had to call it in.

~ Prime, I lost the unidentified Cybertronian. I followed their strange signature to what seems to be a set of warehouses, but the trail suddenly ends. There’s nothing here but scrap. ~

Optimus Prime was silent for a bit, then asked some questions.

~ Did they attempt to fight you or harm any humans? ~

~ They didn’t do either. They just fled as soon as they noticed me. ~

~ We will reconvene with the human soldiers. Send me the unidentified’s readings then. Prime out. ~

Sideswipe did a quick U-turn and headed back to the highway. The ‘con might’ve escaped this time, but now that he could identify them, they wouldn’t manage it a second time.

As he drove, Sideswipe spared a thought to his brother Sunstreaker, who he had been separated from since a mission at a Con compound on a very distant moon. They worked fine alone, but their teamwork was unmatched when it came to fighting. He knew if he were paired with his brother, there would be little chance for this new foe to escape.

Well, there was not much he could do about his brother. He could only hope that Sunstreaker would hear the transmission from Optimus Prime, wherever his brother is, and come to Earth. Though he imagined Sunstreaker would find this planet a little gross. It was covered in dirt particles and saltwater... not great for keeping clean and rust-free. Sunny was admittedly very vain.

:: Unknown Location ::

A weekly meeting containing a small number of individuals was in session, and it was not going well. The current topic of discussion was the possibility of letting in some of the non-hostile aliens into their community.

Max Wilson, a tall and bulky man with shortly cropped dark hair and bronze skin, said on the verge of shouting, “The community has been safe over these past few years because we have kept to ourselves, kept it quiet. The only thing keeping us safe is our lack of presence in their war, Ray!”

“I realize that! But, as aliens on a planet that is mostly populated by humans that hate anything remotely different, don’t you think they could use a place to call home?”

“What about your babies, huh?!”

Despite the warmth of the central heating flooding the building, everyone shivered. The one person that didn’t was the so-called mama bear. She didn’t take insults to her babies or her ability to care for them lightly. She didn’t take threats lightly.

She asked coldly, “Where are you going with this, Max Wilson?”

He paused at the tone and backtracked a bit. “I’m just saying, they’re- they’re not going to like what you’ve been hiding from them this whole time. They’re not going to understand.” Max took a breath, and seeing as no one was stopping him, he continued, “And just think, what if we do allow a few in? They’re obviously going to want to share it with their friends.

What then? How can we possibly maintain our secrecy then?”

Reluctantly, someone else piped up in agreement, “Chief has a point. As soon as our secrecy is blown, we’ll be forced to choose sides in their conflict.”

“Not to mention various governments’ reactions to tech they could only dream of.”

“We’re gonna get nuked,” joked a pale, redheaded woman next to Ray.

Ray’s cold exterior melts a bit. It’s a running joke, admittedly a lame one, but the fact that her friend Linda (the readhead) was trying to ease the tension breaks through her anger a bit. Ray’s digits meet her metallic face with a small clatter that causes scattered laughter amongst the group.

Ray sighs, and then speaks with a surprisingly soft tone. “I get it, I really do. I want to preserve our way of life here as much as possible. This is not just an experiment, it’s a home, and I would never want to jeopardize that.”

They all sense a “but” coming, and the non-human continues...

“... However, you can’t possibly think that we were going to stay hidden forever. Eventually, through one of our own, overheard conversations, or governments piercing through the storm barrier... We have to be prepared for the eventuality that they’re going to know we’re here.”

The room was very silent.

Despite the cold, despite the lack of direct sunlight, despite the layers of secrecy that prevented them from sharing the existence of their home with anyone, and despite the many problems they faced daily, everyone present had chosen to be here because it was a chance to be accepted as who they were and be cared for despite it all. It was a chance for humans and non-humans to live together in a technology-enriched environment unlike anywhere else on earth. There was no real worry about money except for those that handled the collective finances, as most wants were handled by the finance crew. And because of the vetting of each member of their community, there was a feeling of safety that didn’t come with living ‘outside’.

There were many reasons to be upset about the idea of sharing all that with unknowns.

“How about this. We agree to let this go for now, as it seems there’s no pressing need for it right now. All I ask of you is to think about it. Please.”

Gradually, people started grumbling their assent.

“I think Max had some other issues to bring up, before everyone starts leaving,” Linda announced.

The rest of the meeting passed quickly without commotion.

The Nursery was a big building with many wide and tall rooms. From the front door there was the central room or rec room where all could mingle and play. Connected to that central room were the shower room, Ray’s bedroom, and the children’s ‘bedrooms’, the latter which contained multiple beds as well as a ‘couch’ and tables for relaxing or working. All of the bedrooms were a motley of kids of various stages/frames in order to ensure there would always be an older child for the younger ones to turn to in case Ray was not around. She called these groups ‘families’.

The room directly opposite the front door was one the children were not allowed in. The very first frames were kept in that room, some sparked and others not. Other than the electronic locking device on the door, there were alarms as well as monitoring equipment to add some security.

Ray swept her gaze across the living room, the excited baby babble bringing a smile to her metal face. Her children mostly understood English, though she knew that the youngest would still be talking in chittering, beeping, and chirring. She stepped cautiously around the young ones on her way to a couple of kids squabbling loudly. Putting a servo/hand on her black-plated hip, she eyed them quietly until they started to get out of hand. Mindful of the newly acquired child in her arms, she stepped between the children and pushed them apart, breaking up the scuffle they were getting into.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve had to separate you two,” she commented, disappointment thick in her voice, “you know, it makes me sad when my children fight.”

One of them, Moonrider, sulked. The other, Sunstorm, looked unrepentant and seemed to bristle in response.

“Tomorrow, I am assigning each of you to older siblings no longer living in the Nursery. I expect you to listen to them. If I hear good things about you from them, I won’t force you to continue working with them.” She wouldn’t let them do work that was too hard. Most punishments for rowdy youngsters would be either light cleaning or monitoring, quite boring jobs.

“No, please mama.” The previously sulking child now pleaded.

“Oh, whatever will I do? I am so sad. My children want me to be sad.”

“No, I’m sorry mama. Don’t be sad,” Moonrider said.

The other, bristly child looked over to her with a slightly guilty face.

With a sad look on her face, Ray crouched down to their level. “I could really use a hug right now.”

Two smaller bodies attempted to hug her, followed by more, and she cracked a smile above their tiny helms.

:: Somewhere in America ::

After the events in Egypt, Sam returned to college to finish his education. The Autobots returned to base, though after Egypt the human government was pressuring them a lot more than before. The Decepticon threat was not enough reason to continue as they were before, considering the All-Spark was gone as well as the harvester. Now the ever-looming government liaisons were pressuring them for weapons technology and using their status as aliens on a ‘human’ planet against them.

It seems some people were just determined to be intolerant. Was everyone like that? No, they had humans that really cared. But it was admittedly disheartening to see the negative responses from both government officials and civilians alike. Optimus Prime grit his dermas and held his helm high, however.

How long ago was it since he said Earth could be home? A few months? Years? After everything that’s happened, it felt much longer.

:: Unknown Location ::

Because of the tentative status of the aliens on the planet right now, Ray was reluctant to let her older children help out in the warehouses. She reflexively clenched and opened her servos again and again, super aware of the rifle just out of reach. Her human team working the warehouses said they would appreciate the extra muscle. It made sense for her sturdy, strong children to help with the heavy lifting. It would mean they wouldn’t have to rent and store as many forklifts. Things would be done much faster. It was also a chance to show them the world while being carefully watched by her human team, who had all promised her their safety.

Cycling air through her vents, Ray turned her attention back to the plot of land that would become a park. They had dug up and flattened the area with dirt, then piled the material she would need in neat stacks in the centre. It would be a greenhouse of sorts, temperature and humidity carefully controlled to encourage growth. The knowledge she had of the tech behind it wasn’t that complicated, so she didn’t foresee any problems.

Clapping her servos together with a clank, a small spark flashed over her digits. She stood in front of the metal and did a pulling motion with a servo. The metal seemed to almost melt or fall apart, tumbling outwards in little streams and flowing around her to where large beams were beginning to construct themselves. Pivoting on a heel strut, she raised her hand in a lifting motion as it built supportive arches and arches for the doors. Pivoting again, she reached for the glass and similarly called to it. It melted like ice to water and formed the outer shell of the greenhouse. Lastly, she used the leftover electronics and material to create the advanced system to control the climate inside the thinly walled park.

All in all, much faster than teaching her people how to make it themselves. Stretching idly, she looked over her work, scanning a few places to determine its integrity.

“That is cool every time I see it.”

Ray turned to see a familiar redhead with blue eyes, Linda Davies, one of her dearest friends. “Linda, I didn’t see you there.”

She smiled good-naturedly, “Yeah, you seemed pretty occupied. So, how’s the build?”

“Structurally, it is good. But I really don’t know how well the climate control turned out. We’ll have to run it for a day to see.” Ray sheepishly scratched the back of her helm with rounded digits.

Linda walked over to the controls, which came in two pieces of differing sizes for each specie. Going to the smaller one, she examined the screen and buttons.

“So, how does this work?”

Ray ambled up to the smaller control and pointed out how to adjust various things. It wasn’t too difficult, and soon Linda had set the temperature to be comfortable enough for a human to be without a jacket or sweater. Deciding this would be a good test, Ray set the humidity on the bigger control, and they waited for the temperature to start changing.

“This is nice. All it needs now is grass.”

Feeling slightly distracted, Ray hummed in agreement.

Eyeing her large, metal friend, the redhead asked, “Are you worried?”

“I’m always worried.”

“You know Jenkins and all them... they won’t let anyone hurt your kids.”

There was only silence on Ray’s part.

“Besides, they’re only going to stay near the warehouse. All the delivery is still handled by other companies.”

She slowly admitted, “Yes, that’s true...”

:: California, America ::

~ Incoming truck. ~

The whirr of transformations filled the air as the human workers made their way to the wide metal door. Things were going well for the warehouse crew. With help from the ‘bots, moving things through the ground bridge was a lot easier. It was a little messy until they got the hang of hiding whenever a delivery arrived, but once the truck left, the stacked boxes were lifted into the ground bridge. They still required the use of machinery for the delivery trucks, and it wasn’t as fast as the ‘bots moving things straight from the truck into the warehouse, but there wasn’t much they could do about it unless they made their own deliveries.

A red-blue Peterbilt truck backed carefully but skillfully toward the warehouse door. Once the truck was in position, the driver’s side door popped open and a fairly young but muscled man stepped out. He shot the workers a half-hearted greeting before opening the trailer door.

“So, what do you guys do with all this metal?”

Eyeing the curious truck driver with a niggling suspicion, it’s Shawn that answered with practiced ease, “The company stores materials for construction.” Before the driver can ask another question, he immediately asked, “How long have you been a truck driver?”

There was a small pause, before the driver smiled and answered, “About 3 years and counting.”

“You’re pretty young. What’s your name, kid?”

The driver laughed, before trying to walk through the warehouse door. The small feeling of suspicion started blaring a loud warning and Shawn intercepted with a sharp smile.

“Sorry, kid,” he said, “Only company employees are allowed in there.”

The suspicious trucker stopped but didn’t back up. “Sorry,” he said, though Shawn was sure they weren’t at all, “just wanted to check on the load I’ve been carrying for days across Cali. Why the secrecy?”

At this point, the other workers were staring at Shawn and the unnamed trucker with cautious looks. Shawn raised a hand to the trucker and waved him back. Reluctantly, the trucker backed up, but not before spying the headlights of a vehicle around a stack of metal.

“Do you usually park your vehicle inside the warehouse while you work?” There was a look in the trucker’s eyes that screamed suspicion, though his mouth was curved into a constant smile.

“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to go back to your vehicle while we finish unloading. I’m not sure what other companies you’ve worked with are like, but we’re very busy, and company policy says I can’t have you snooping around our wares.”

The suspicious individual raised their hands in a placating gesture and let themselves be herded back to the driver’s side of the cabin.

“Woah, didn’t mean to step on anyone’s toes.”

Shawn held back a biting remark, and simply hummed in response.

Though he helped the workers until they were finished unloading, he kept a close eye on the trucker. The closely watched man disappeared briefly into the cabin of the truck before exiting again to watch the workers from afar. Eventually, when all the metal was unloaded, the trucker sauntered over to close the trailer door before going back to the cabin to drive off. Shawn made sure to watch for the truck’s disappearance before going back into the warehouse and signalling the other workers.

The warehouse door closed and locked before the hidden bots transformed back to their bipedal selves. Their vocals whirred nervously, but they were otherwise silent.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. They’re gone.” Shawn reassured them.

Another worker piped up, “Though that guy was really suspicious. We should report him.”

“Hey Shawn, what was that guy’s name?”

He frowned as he answered, “When I asked, he avoided the question, so I don’t know.”

The warehouse became noisy with conversation before Shawn decided to take charge and whistled loudly, grabbing their attention. “Okay, I know that was exciting, but we need to get our ‘bots out of here and get back to work. I want ‘bots to grab as much metal as you can carry before you leave. Stay on the other side of the ground bridge, moving things to storage. As for the rest of us, we’ll have to move the rest.”

Sending the request for the ground bridge to activate, Shawn clapped and sent everyone back to work. He knew neither mama bear nor Max (their chief of security) were going to like hearing about the incident. Hopefully, he could convince them that they had things under control, so that the ‘bots could remain to help.

#my fanfiction #I don't believe in miracles #transformers #greyscales

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5-seconds-of-bucky · 4 years

Text

All The Kisses

A/N: I really like this one.

Summary: All the types of kisses you share with Shawn throughout your relationship

Word Count: 2.2k+

Warnings: Some swearing and brief mentions of an anxiety attack. Very, very fluffy.

The First Kiss

You were just sitting next to each other on the ground and doing homework. Music was playing softly from your laptop and not much was said as you both worked on your Chemistry labs.

“Can you check this equation for me?” Shawn asked, pushing his notebook towards you. He smiled when you looked up from your notebook with big eyes, having not heard what he asked.

“What?” You brushed a loose strand from your ponytail back. He swore you had never looked cuter.

“Equation. Check,” he chuckled.

“Oh, sure.” You scanned over the numbers, erasing a two he had placed in front of Hydrogen, “Hydrogen has a subscript of two when it’s alone, so you don’t need the two in front.”

“Thanks.” His smile was soft and you swore you could have kissed him right then.

Last First Kiss started playing and you sang along quietly, when Shawn asked you, “Y/N, have you had your first kiss yet?”

“Shawn, you’re my best friend. Trust me, you’d be the first to know if I did.” You weren’t really fazed by the question, but Shawn seemed somewhat shocked by your answer.

“Have you been on a date?”

“Nope.” You rolled your eyes and let out a playful sigh. “Oh, I am such a poor, lonely soul.” You placed your hand to your heart and made a dramatic frown. Shawn laughed.

“I could be your last first kiss, “ he stated with a glint in his eyes.

“Stop plagiarizing One Direction. Write your own songs.”

“I have!”

“Exactly! Use them!” You both laughed. Shawn watched you as your face returned to a more restful expression. The hair that fell in front of your face did little to block the small smile still resting on your face. “What are you staring at?”

“Just how beautiful you are.” You blushed profusely. Your best friend who you happened to have a decent sized crush on just called you cute? No way.

“What are you talking about?” You tried to brush off the comment, but every thought of it made you blush even more.

“You’re so pretty. I have no idea how you haven’t had your first kiss or even been on a date, but I’m gonna change that.” Before you could respond, his lips were on yours. It was short and sweet, but it left you breathless.

Shawn started at your shocked expression, worried he had done something wrong. “I’m so sorry, I should have asked-” He was cut off by you cupping his cheeks and pulling him in again. He smiled. Nothing could beat this moment.

Top of the Head Kisses

“I don’t know how I failed it,” You exclaimed through tears. You were leaning against your car, a hand covering your tearstained face. “I worked so hard.”

“I know baby. I know,” Shawn said softly as he pulled you into his chest. His right hand went around your waist while his left held your head to his chest. He had seen you study for a whole week. You had gone to the teacher every day after school, having to cancel some of your plans with him. It didn’t make sense that you had spent all this time trying and failed anyways.

“I hate history,” You mumbled, wrapping your arms around him and pressing you head further into his chest, as if it would keep you safe from the tortuous grade.

“It’s alright babe. It’s just one grade. It won’t kill you.” “It dropped my grade four points.”

“It’s all going to work out. We can figure out where you went wrong so you can prepare for the next one, alright?”

“Okay.”

You stayed there for a few more minutes, enjoying the company of your boyfriend. He placed his head on top of yours and you smiled.

“You’re the best boyfriend ever. You know that right?”

“Yeah.” His smile reached the side of his face when he heard you laugh. “You’re the best girlfriend.” He put his lips on the top of your head, staying there for a second before kissing it. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Y/N, can you come over here?” Shawn asked from the doorway that lead outside. You were at your parents house and there was a campfire set up outside, waiting for everyone to gather around.

“Yeah, just let us finish this round,” you said dismissively. You and your brothers were playing Mario Carts and you were about to win when you got hit by someone’s power up. “Who did that?”

Both of your brothers laughed and you sent a glare in their direction. “You’ve got to be kidding me! How did you win that one?” one of them asked.

“Skills, baby.”

“One more round.”

“You’re on.”

“Y/N,” Shawn chuckled from the doorway, walking towards your place on the couch.

“What, babe?”

“There’s a fire outside. Come on, let’s go.” The hand he had stuck in his pocket fumbled with the case he had been carrying around for a while. “I have something important to ask.”

“You can just ask me here.” Your eyes never left the screen in front of you as you talked to him.

“You have to come outside.”

“It’s gonna have to wait then.”

Shawn shook his head. It was going to take a lot to get you outside. “You’re crazy,” was all he mumbled before leaving a kiss on the top of your head. You leaned slightly into him and he wrapped an arm around you. “Love you babe.” He pressed another kiss to your head and walked outside, looking at the perfect proposal scene in front of him.

Wedding Kisses

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. From the moment you walked down the aisle to the moment he was told he could kiss the bride, Shawn’s eyes were on you.

“You may kiss the bride,” Shawn didn’t wait a second, wrapping his arms around you and dipping you before crashing his lips on yours. You were both in fits of giggles afterwards, you telling him that you thought you were going to fall over with how clumsy he was.

“I would never drop you, my dear,” was the only response he had. It seemed like he couldn’t get enough of you all night either, kissing you every chance he got.

It took all his willpower not to kiss you during your first dance. It was all he wanted to do, yet he realized that he had all the time in the world to do it. With your head on his shoulder and his head resting on top of yours, he was able to sneak in a few to your temple. He could feel you smile on his shoulder every time he did, and nothing had ever given him a better feeling.

All too soon, the night was over, but he kept kissing you everywhere he could reach.

“I’m never going to get tired of this,” he mumbled as you swayed together in your apartment. You were holding each other close, swaying to the music playing from your phone.

“Me either.”

Last First Kiss came on, and you both burst into a fit of giggles.

“Can you believe this is where it started?” you asked, lifting your face from his chest to get a full look at his face. “Six whole years ago.”

“You were so cute back then.” His head fell back in laughter when you swatted his arm with a fake frown.

“I was. Too bad I’m so beautiful now.”

“All the better, my dear. Everything about you is magnificent.” He dipped you and leaned down to kiss you again, smiling as he realized this is how he got to spend the rest of his life.

Forehead Kisses

“Alright, three, two, one!” He shouted from three rows back. You were at one of the areas Shawn was performing in that night. You thought it would be cool if you jumped off the stage and struck a pose in the air. The stage wasn’t too far off the ground. What could go wrong?

You jumped as high as you could, sticking both your arms in the air and making a silly face. Everything was fine until you landed. Your feet gave out from under you and you landed hard on your left knee. “Fuck!”

“Babe,” Shawn ran towards you kneeling down next to you and trying to get you to sit back. “Are you okay? What hurts?”

“My knee.” You voice came out strained and you hugged it close to your chest. “Holy shit.”

“It’s alright babe, I’ve got ya.” He carefully picked you up bridal style and carried you backstage to get you checked out. He sat down and laid you across his lap, allowing you back to rest on the armrest of the couch.

Your face was still contorted in pain, grimacing more when you knee was being inspected.

“It’s gonna be alright, babe,” Shawn whispered, pressing his lips to your forehead and letting them linger for a second. You curled up closer to him, signifying that you wanted to stay like that. He smiled in adoration and put his lips back to your forehead, staying like that until you were able to stand up and get back to his dressing room.

“Breath with me, baby,” you whispered as you held him close. You took deep breaths, trying to get him to sync with you. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” Soon enough, his breathing became more regulated and you were able to pull back slightly to get a better look at his face.

He was a mess. His anxiety had been through the roof the past few weeks and tonight was his breaking point. Luckily, you had been there when he needed you and you were able to calm him down.

“You’re okay,” You said softly, running your fingers through his hair and pushing you lips to his hairline. You left a few pecks there before pulling him down to lay on your chest.

“You are so strong,” your lips were still pressed to his forehead, “and I am so proud of you.”

Belly Kisses

“Shawn, he’s kicking!” you shouted from the bedroom, placing your hands on your stomach as you felt the flutters.

Shawn all but ran to the room, dropping to his knees and placing his hands on your belly to feel. “Oh my gosh. He’s kicking.” His smile reached his ears as he looked up at you. “That’s our kid.”

“That’s our kid,” you confirmed, placing your hands on top of his.

“I love our little bub. I love you,” He stated simply, closing his eyes and resting his forehead on you belly, taking in the moment. After a few seconds he picked his head up and started blowing raspberries on your belly, causing you to shake with laughter.

“Shawn!” He was mesmerized by the sight. His beautiful wife, pregnant with their child, laughing like he had just told the funniest joke in the world. He placed a quick kiss to your belly before standing up and cupping your cheeks, kissing you like the night of your wedding.

Temple Kisses

“Shh, Jack. It’s okay, mommy’s got you.” You said as you rocked your two week old son in his room. It was one in the morning and you were beyond exhausted, but Shawn needed to rest. He had a long day of interviews coming up that day and you didn’t want him to be tired. Of course, Jack had other plans.

His cries seemed to be intensifying by the minute, leaving you to hope that he wouldn’t disturb Shawn. You felt like you had tried everything. You had fed and changed him. You even went as far to change his pyjamas, hoping that maybe he just didn’t like the material. Nothing seemed to be working. Sometimes, you knew, he just needed his dad. You were hoping that wasn’t the case tonight.

Your hopes were crushed when you heard soft footsteps coming down the hallway and the door opening slowly.

“Sorry. I was trying to let you sleep but he won’t stop crying and I don’t know why.” You were close to tears and Shawn could tell that you were frustrated.

“No, no, it’s okay. Let me try.” He took the wailing baby from your arms and started bouncing to soothe him. It took a few minutes for it to stop, but Jack eventually started to calm down, falling asleep on Shawn’s shoulder. “There we go.” Shawn carefully placed his son back in his crib and turned to look at you. “He just need his daddy tonight.”

You were almost asleep standing up and Shawn smiled to himself. His perfect little family all in one room. You jumped slightly when you felt his arms wrap around you.

“You’re such an amazing mom. I hope you know that,” he mumbled into your shoulder.

“You’re an even better dad.” You turned your head to kiss him on the temple, sliding your head down afterwards to rest on his shoulder.

He pulled his head up to kiss your temple in return before saying, “I am so lucky to have you two.” You looked up and smiled tiredly, allowing him to see the dark circles under your eyes from multiple nights of interrupted sleep. “Let’s get you to bed, pretty mama. You need some sleep.”

#Shawn Mendes #Shawn Mendes fic #Shawn Mendes fanficiton #Shawn Mendes imagine #Shawn Mendes one shot #Shawn Mendes writing #Dad!Shawn #husband!shawn #boyfriend!Shawn #soft!shawn #Shawn Mendes x reader #Shawn Mendes x Y/N #Y/N #Shawn Mendes fluff #Anna writes

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flying-nightwing · 4 years

Text

Shame and Toxic Fame (vol. 1)

Ah! I’m back with a two (maybe three?) part story which is kinda inspired by the song Life of the Party by All Time Low (not shawn mendes lmao). If you don’t know it check it out it’s super good.

In this one reader is a famous singer because why not! Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Jason Todd x Music star!reader

Word count: 3727

Warnings: Mention of substance abuse (both alcohol and drugs), light bar fight violence

I spent an embarassing amount of time searching for a gif for this one oof

The night was going absolutely great until you took a look at yourself in the mirror during a quick fix up.

You were a mess.

Your red eyes were contrasting with your smudged dark makeup, your bronzer and highlighter were mostly gone and the poor imitation of a lipstick stain was stretched all over your mouth and teeth. You lifted a hand to fix it, but in your dizzy state, it didn’t do much. Your purple top was ruined with alcohol and your bracelets were stuck on your skin from the sugar of your drinks’ mixers. You had a moment of lucidity right there, asking how the hell you ended up at rock bottom so quick, but you didn’t like it. You reached in your pocket and took the last smiley face pill in your little plastic bag, and like it, you put a grin on your face and returned to the party. You grabbed a bottle of wine from the bar, made your way over the passed out people on the ground and rejoined the dancefloor.

You were dancing, high on the colors and sound waves around you when the illusion shattered.

Your ex walked in with his friends, laughing and joking like he owned the place. You gasped in offense at the audacity of him showing up to your birthday party. At your place. Like he hadn’t humiliated you publicly less than a month ago in front of the whole world. Your grip on the bottle tightened and you stomped in his direction. His friends noticed your first, halting their laugh and tapping him on the chest. His eyes met yours and they widened in humour at your state.

“You!” You screamed. The music turned down, the chatter died. Murmurs went around the crowd and cameras got taken out as people formed a circle around you.

“Me” He pointed at himself.

“How dare you!” You pushed him back, suddenly unhinged. He laughed with the crowd, holding his hands up in defense. But he wasn't taking you seriously. “How dare you show up here!”

“It said open house, darling” Now he was patronizing. “I can be here. Beside, happy birthday”

“Get out” You gritted your teeth. “GET OUT”

“No”

Without really thinking, you lifted your bottle and slammed it on the table, shattering it. Yelps went around the crowd, and they got even louder when you pointed the jagged end in his direction.

“Wow WOW” He backed up. “Fucking crazy bitch!”

You couldn’t really recall what went next. People came in between you two as he kept shouting for someone to “take this crazy bitch away from him”. Arms restrained you around the waist, you threw up, you think, and you blacked out.

--------

You groaned as you felt sunlight hit your eyes. You threw an arm over your face and forced yourself not to think about your fragile stomach. The taste in your mouth was foul and your head was pounding like crazy. Now you had become quite the expert on hangovers lately, but this one was definitely the worst you had ever had. And it became only worse when memories from the night before started to come back, if it was even possible.

The thought of that shitshow alone made you puke.

You turned around in your bed, knowing you’d have to clean the alcohol off your floor anyway. Beside, you wouldn’t have made it to the bathroom on time. But to your surprise, you found a metal bucket at the foot of the bed, ready for you to grab and hurl the content of your stomach in it. Only when you didn’t have anything more to throw up that you realized you did not own anything like this bucket, or that the bedside table had gone from your cherry wood to an unfamiliar oak grey. Thinking about it, you didn’t own a navy blue carpet, nor were your sheets that color either.

Fuck.

You looked around in panic when you realized that you were not, in fact, in your bedroom. You had been changed into a large t-shirt, but you still had your underwear underneath it as well as your purple tank top. You half sighed in relief, then hissed at the pounding in your head. You had sat up way too quickly and now you made it worse. Your eyes were dragged to the bucket, and your nose scrunched up. You would have thrown up again if there had been anything left in your stomach. Then your eyes trailed to the grey oak night table, on which there was your phone (plugged in a charger?) beside two ibuprofen and a glass of water.

Without question, you took them and drank the water slowly to make them pass. You were parched, but your stomach did not like the input of liquid right now. When you were sure the water wouldn’t come back out, you slowly reached for your phone and flinched even before turning on the lockscreen. Your fears were confirmed when you came face to face with about a hundred texts with the same thumbnail and a lot of capital letters and punctuation. You had a ridiculous amount of notifications from every social apps you had, and they were still getting in as you stared in shock at your screen. Your hand flew to your mouth, not from the threat of puking this time. Tears brimmed your eyes as you realized just exactly what you had put yourself into. You shook your head, feeling your breathing accelerate. You were overwhelmed, and instead of opening conversations--any conversation--you just shut your phone down and threw it on the floor.

“What have I done” You mumbled to yourself, trying to swallow back the panic attack threatening to surface. Dragged in the mud the remaining of your pride, that’s what you did.

A quiet knock on the door pulled you back from your own spiral of shame. You didn’t speak. “Uh, (Y/N), are you okay? I heard a thud from here”

“Yeah” You replied, and you voice came back more hoarse than you thought. The voice was male, and it seemed uncertain. You did not recognize it. “Thanks”

“... Can I come in?”

You considered refusing, as you were still too ashamed to face anyone, and still unsure about the intention of whoever brought you here. But then again, they didn’t seem to have touched you, and they asked to come in rather than barge in. Also, they had left a bucket. That was the most anyone did for you in a while.

“S-Sure”

The door creaked open and a tall man with dark hair stood behind it. He peeked inside, like he was hesitant to step in further, but he nodded to himself when he saw you weren't dead. And if you looked like a dressing room carpet after a Guns and Roses after party, which you most certainly did, he did not let it show on his face.

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright” He hummed. “Last night, you seemed pretty… Uh...”

“Wasted? Trashed? Ridiculous?” You offered with a sad smile, waiting for him to laugh at you or show you a video of what you did.

“I was thinking more of in need of a hand” He replied gently, taking you aback. “My brother and I brought you back here before the paps could swarm the place, but don’t worry my sister changed you. I wasn’t--”

You looked down at the shirt, then back at him.

“Thanks” Your eyes filled with water again.

“Oh, hey, no please--” He rushed inside. “Please don’t cry”

Obviously, that was the one thing not to say, because as if on cue you began crying. He grabbed the tissue box on the desk and brought it to you. You mumbled a thanks and blew your nose with all the grace left you possessed. Now you must have truly looked like a sight for sore eyes, bawling in a stranger’s bedroom as he handed you tissues.

“Hey, come on, it’s okay” He shushed, giving you awkward pats on the back. You could tell he didn’t do that often, judging by his awkwardness, but it did make you feel better. At least he wasn’t judging you like he should be; he must have seen the pathetic excuse of a fight that had gone down at your party. “Let it all out”

You finally calmed down after a few minutes, sniffing and wiping your eyes. You took a deep breath, then another one and nodded. Your glance trailed up to his face, and much to his credit he did not grimace at your state from up close. He seemed uncomfortable, but not enough to be on the verge of running away. If anything, he did look genuinely concerned, which was unusual for your typical entourage. “What’s your name?”

“Jason”

“That’s a nice name” You lifted the corner of your lips. “Where are we?”

“Wayne Manor”

Your eyes widened. He’s that Jason?

“Yeah” Amusement overtook his features while you froze. He figured you did not intend to say that out loud.

You were in the Wayne Manor with an actual legend, and you hadn’t even realized it. He was even more famous than you, mostly for being the Wayne son that was found after two years of having disappeared.

“I’m sorry to tell you that your reputation is now forever tainted” You scoffed weakly. “Bringing back the breakdown diva will make people talk”

He snorted. “I doubt that’s the thing I’ll be remembered about”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I, uh” He scratched the back of his neck. “You really don’t recall what went down yesterday?”

“No” You shook your head. “I can’t see past the moment I yelled at my ex to get out”

“Okay… Just to be sure, he was the bad guy, right?” He flinched, and your eyebrows knitted in confusion. “I might uh. You know what, it’ll just be easier to show you”

He fished out his phone out of his back pocket and pulled out a video, then dragged the time mark to one specific moment. He handed you the phone and you pressed play. It started as you smashed the bottle, making wine explode everywhere including on yourself. Not your proudest moment. Then the crowd shrieked and people came to break the fight, you were pulled out of view as Jason appeared, trying to make your ex back off. Something the mic didn’t quite catch was said, and that’s when you saw what he meant. In barely a second, Jason blocked your ex’s punch and replied with two quick ones of his own. Your ex was sent flying backwards, unconscious and bloody, and the video ended with that.

Your jaw dropped. “Oh god”

“Yeah” He sighed. “Sorry”

“Sorry?” Your eyes flickered back to him as you handed him his phone. “N-No, don’t be. I mean, he definitely deserved that”

It was his time to be taken aback.

“You’re good with that?”

“Obviously” You gave him a small smile. “I just wish I was the one who punched him”

“Well, judging by the smash bottle of wine you were holding up, I’d say you came pretty damn close”

You allowed yourself to chuckle before you remembered you were still a surprise guest in the manor. Jason had helped you out, but he and his family would probably want you out of their home as soon as possible. You looked down at your laps and fidgeted with your fingers.

“I, uh, I should go” You mumbled. “I don’t want to burden you much longer with my presence, uh, you must want me out of here”

He blinked.

“You’re not a burden” He replied. “You still seem pretty shaken up. You can stay here as long as you want, the house is certainly big enough”

You bit the inside of your cheek. On one hand, you really did feel like imposing. On the other hand, the offer really did sound tempting. You weren’t ready to face the world just yet, and Wayne Manor was the perfect hideout for you to ride out the embarrassment. But Jason had already been way too nice to you as it was, and it was more than you deserved.

You shook your head. “Thanks, but--”

“I know you don’t want to go” He interrupted you softly. “I can see it, and I understand. You don’t have to expose yourself to the vultures just yet”

You felt the back of your neck heat up. You had no idea any of Bruce Wayne’s kid would be so… Not what you thought they’d be. You surely did not expect that level of kindness.

“Don’t you worry, we’ve all been there” He looked up, then gave you a knowing smile. “Take your time, there’s a bathroom right behind this door, fresh clothes in the drawers and a fully stocked kitchen when you’re ready to eat something. I make an amazing hangover smoothie”

He stood up and walked to the door.

“Thank you, Jason”

He nodded, then left you to do your stuff. You remained on the bed for a couple of minutes, texting a few people close to you you were okay, before you got a draft of your own smell. You gagged and immediately went for the shower.

------

Freshly showered and changed, you timidly headed down to the kitchen. You got lost a few times on the way there, but you finally made it. You were relieved there was only Jason preparing food; you weren’t sure coming face to face with Bruce Wayne would be a great idea in your state. You were all cleaned up, but even a good wash couldn’t erase the bags under your eyes or the pounding in your head that made you flinch every now and then.

“Feeling better?”

“Much better” You smiled. “Thank you”

“Hey, no problem” He chuckled as he pushed a glass with a thick, pale green liquid your way. “Besides, it’s kind of an honor to have you here”

You cocked your head to the side.

“I mean, you’re pret-ty amazing” He said, taking a bite of his toast. “You have some admirers around here… Talking of which”

You followed his glance behind you, where a grinning, wide eyed young man was standing. You knew who he was, Dick Grayson was hard not to notice around Gotham. You were just surprised of his reaction from seeing, apparently, well, you.

“Hi” He smiled even brighter, if it was possible. “I’m Dick. Big fan”

“Hi” You gave him a small wave back.

“How are you feeling?”

“Uh?”

“I was there too yesterday. I held you up when you, well”

“Oh” You looked away. So, that was the brother that had witnessed your disgrace in live action. Super. “Yeah, I feel better, thanks”

“Great!” The sound made you flinch as it resonated in your head, making him mutter a sheepish apology.

“Alright Grayson, now’s not the time to be a fanboy” Jason teased, before he turned to face you. “Come, I’ll show you somewhere quiet to pass the hangover”

You grabbed your glass and followed him out of the kitchen and around the manor to some remote room on the end of a wing. He pushed the door open to a room with wide windows and warm lightning, a library you realized by the few bookshelves around.

“Make yourself comfortable” He gestured to the seats around. “It’s the most relaxing place in the house, because my siblings are not allowed here”

“Why is that?”

“My library, my rules”

“Your library?” You raised your eyebrows, but he just shrugged.

“They can use the big one” He explained. “This is my space, and it comes handy when you have four annoying siblings”

“Gotcha” You smiled lightly as you walked around the room, observing the book titles. He had interesting tastes, you had no idea again he was that kind of guy. Well, you knew next to nothing about him, come to think of it. But the little you thought you had right from the tabloids was totally wrong. You kept snooping around as he sat in a chair and opened a book, until you came face to face with a beautiful acoustic six strings waiting there. You reached for it, but pulled your hand back last second. When you glanced back at Jason, he was already looking at you above his book.

“May I?”

“Knock yourself out” He gestured to it, then returned to his book.

You restrained your new found excitement as you carefully picked the guitar up from its stand and carried it to a seat. A couple of strums told you it was slightly out of tune, so you adjusted the keys until it sounded on the note. You began playing the strings softly and humming along, until you felt Jason’s stare on you. His book was down on his laps and he had an interested glint in his eyes. Your fingers paused as you felt once again the heat creep up your neck.

“I’m sorry if I’m disturbing your reading” You mumbled, suddenly feeling bad for violating his silent heaven.

“No, don’t worry” He reassured. “It’s quite nice. Did you compose that yourself?”

“Uh, yeah” You nodded. “It’s been so long, though. I don’t compose much anymore”

“Why?”

You smiled sadly. “I now have an extensive team of producers that make my music for me. Apparently, getting that catchy, polished, flawless radio hit is the priority these days. Better for business”

“Yeah well, that’s bullshit if you ask me” He leaned slightly forward. “I think a personal, heartfelt song will always be better”

“You and I both” You sighed. “Honestly I have no idea how I ended up here, or where I went wrong”

“What do you mean?” His eyebrows drew in confusion. “You didn’t go that bad”

“Are you kidding me?” You choked on air, your eyes widening. “Haven’t you followed the tabloids the last year? Hell, you were there yesterday. You saw how trashed I was, and that was hardly an exception. I have earned a title of Breakdown Princess for a reason”

“Maybe” He shrugged. “But you were part of a culture putting inhuman pressure on public figures, especially women to perform and be perfect all the time ever since you were what, sixteen? And with what I’ve seen from that guy I punched… Anyway. All I’m saying is, don’t blame yourself too much for a game you were tricked to play”

You could only stare at him blankly, blinking rapidly. You had expected him to get it a bit, with being the son of Bruce Wayne and all. But holy shit, even you had never seen it like this before. Maybe he had a point. When you looked at it, the pressure you endured from everyone around you, the endless parties your agent had booked you to attend, the new album, the promos and press tours, actual tours, the substance addiction scandal, all the shit with your ex that tanked your reputation, hitting rock bottom…

The last year had been hell, to say the least.

“How do you know all that?” Your question was genuine, and he gave you a quizzical half smile and a little shrug.

“When I told you earlier that we’ve all been there…” He trailed off. “Just know that I know how it feels. To have pressure to be someone you’re not”

“Well” You took a deep breath. “Thank you, I think I needed to hear that”

“Don’t mention it” He leaned back in his chair, before his expression subtly changed. “Actually, I’d have a little request, if you don’t mind”

“Go ahead”

“Could you play that song for me?” He asked. “I’d like to hear it”

You smiled and nodded at the innocence of his request. Of course you could do that to the person that literally swooped in and saved the day, and provided you with care after your own shit show. You began strumming the song you were playing just before, this time fully singing along. It had been years since you had played it, but it was your favourite you had ever written, and you still remembered it by heart. It made you smile even more, definitely bringing you in a good mood. You played the last chords of the song and looked up to see Jason hanging onto every sound.

“I…” He began. “Wow. Why was that never released again?”

You shrugged lightly. “My agent wouldn’t let me, I guess”

“You should release it anyway” He continued. “This is honest to god amazing”

“Thanks” You let out a quiet laugh, scratching the back of your neck. “Honestly, I wish I could just… Fire everyone. And get back to the basics, release my on stuff, you know?”

“Then do it”

“I can’t just do it” You replied quickly in confusion. “There are contracts and--”

“Sure you can” He said, an amused yet relaxed expression on his face. “I, Jason Todd, give you the explicit permission to use the Wayne name to scare any lawyer getting in the way of your full emancipation”

You laughed at his self assured grin, but also to hide your surprise. Of course, you knew the Wayne lawyers were the best in town and would most probably put the fear of god in the heart of your record label and agent, but you still weren’t sure if he was kidding or not.

“I’m serious” He added after a moment. “If you need help to get out of these contracts, we’re more than willing to help”

“You’d do that for me?” You asked carefully. “I’m just a stranger”

“Ah well, helping strangers is kind of our thing here” He hummed, looking up at the ceiling before his glance met yours again. “Besides, it’s really cool that you’re here. All of us will so be plugging that we know you in every conversation from now on. Especially Dick”

You laughed again, lighter this time.

“Be my guest” You grinned. “I doubt it’ll achieve anything but raised eyebrows these days but if it makes you feel good…”

“Superb” His grin matched yours. “Now, I’ll let you play in peace”

“And I’ll let you read in peace”

You exchanged a smile, then kept messing around the chords as he picked up his book again.

#Jason Todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd reader #dc #dcu #DC Universe #dc imagine #dcu imagine #dc universe imagine #batfam #imagine #au

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mwolf0epsilon · 4 years

Note

Story about something crashing on little Sammy parents farm. Maybe the government comes and forces them out for a while to collect it?👽

Warning for disturbing imagery and dead animals!

Summary: Joey Drew Studio is snowed in, so while everyone tries to keep warm for the night they end up reminiscing about the oddest things they had ever experienced. Sammy ends up recalling a rather bizarre event from his childhood.

---

[[MORE]]

"I'm sorry to impose so much Mrs. Harrison. I trust Abigail will behave, she's a little angel I assure you." Sammy fidgeted with the phone chord nervously as he listened to his elderly neighbor. "Yes, yes thank you... Oh certainly! Let her on so I can wish her a good night..."

Susie watched as the tired look on the music director's face melted away to welcome a gentler smile. She could sort of hear a child's voice on the line (his little sister that he'd mentioned a few times). It was quite endearing to see Sammy with such a calm and content expression instead of the usual grumpy scrawl that scared half the band into submission.

"Good night Abby, be good to Mrs. Harrison." The call was coming to a close. "I love you too."

Susie smiled at him and nodded, taking her turn to call home now that he was finished.

"Wally is heating up soup in the break room. The stove's thankfully working." She called after him as she dialed the number.

"Everyone camping out there?" He asked as he looked back at the voice actress.

"Everyone but Joey, that devil of a man actually has an insulated office... The rest of us are sleeping by the stove." She sighed "Thankfully Norman and Grant thought ahead and brought a few blankets to stay warm."

Clever thinking and also a necessity, as Grant's office was very drafty, and Norman's booth got cold from the pipework frosting over a bit (since the music department had been a repurposed bathroom) in cold weather. Mr. Cohen also knew the likelyhood of Joey having paid the heating bill. Slim to none.

"Great... Just what I wanted, to sleep in a stuffy room full of people and the smell of that rancid soup..." A soup he'd enjoyed at first (due to it reminding him of his father's cauliflower soup which had little bits of bacon in it), but which had lost its luster on the third week of being asked to take a few cans home. Abby hated the stuff so he'd had to eat it himself. "Don't you just love getting snowed in?"

"Only when I was a child. The snow usually meant no classes." Susie finished dialing and waited for her mother to answer.

He left her alone to go back into the break room where Wally and Norman were passing around bowls of soup. Grant greeted him with a blanket, which he graciously took. The damn studio was absolutely freezing in November. The freak snowstorm hadn't helped.

Honestly he'd loved the look of a snowy New York when he'd first moved here with his father. It had looked beautiful and new, almost magical, unlike the ranch he'd grown up in until he was 11. Looking back now, he missed the expanse of snowy fields instead of the cold streets. He also missed watching a few of the animals play in the snow.

Getting stuck in the studio made him a little nostalgic.

"Here ya go Sammy!" Wally passed him a bowl of soup, which he nearly dropped in surprise, and grinned "It ain't my ma's beef stew and it definitely lacks a spoon since we don't got that many of those to begin with, but at least it'll keep you warm from the inside!"

"I, yes at least that." He sniffed it and grimaced. Pork grease and chunky bits that definitely were less bacon and more cartilage. "You ever wonder how they made this slop?"

"I'd rather not think about it. It's like hot dogs ya know... The less you know about it, the better they are!" The janitor shrugged and went to sit on one of the chairs closer to the stove. Everyone was very much huddled close by, swaddled in shared blankets, rubbing their hands together to keep them warm, or drinking soup.

Norman nodded at the music director once he sat down to join the group. Not too long after Susie was sitting beside him, and he offered to share his blanket with her.

"So, what do we do now?" Wally asked as he looked around. The issue would be sorted in the morning but it was still only a quarter to eleven and no one was particularly keen on sleeping just yet.

"I'll tell ya what we could do!" Shawn called out from his spot, voice slightly muffled by his big red scarf. "I say we pass t'time by indulging in the ye old grand art that is story tellin'!"

"Story telling? What, like a sleepover?" Jack questioned. Sammy found it amusing that he'd swaddled himself in his blanket in a way that pressed his hair tight against his skull, to the point where it looked like a makeshift scarf and ear mitts. "Like when we were little kids?"

"Well we're all sleepin' here t'night aren't we? And ya don't need t'be wee little ankle biters t'go tellin' stories." Shawn huffed "Besides, what better way t'know yer co-workers than share some harrowin' tales? I sure got a few that'll intrigue you folks I'm sure."

"Is it about potatoes?" One of the art department workers asked, only to get a slap on the back of the head and an elbow to the ribs.

"Very funny, that muppet over there's a real comedian coddin like that..." The Irishman rolled his eyes. "Right, you folk ever hear 'bout the legend o'the banshee?"

Everyone gave him a peculiar look, which Shawn took as permission to carry on.

"The tale varies some dependin' on t'person who tells ya. But the way me ma told it to me was somethin' like this: The banshee is a sweet singin' virgin, pretty as a button, a real feek." He tapped his chin thoughtfully as he recalled his mother's words. "Sometimes she has long black hair, other times it's a bright red like fire. Always pale... But don't be thinkin' she's just some little lady, oh no. The banshee is a spirit, one that heralds death in the family. Her ghastly cries precede the death o'loved ones and fill ya with a mighty chill o'dread... And I saw one when I was just a wee lad."

"Ya saw... A ghost?" Lacie wrinkled her nose. "And ya sure it wasn't some regular girl you just saw?"

"Couldn't o'been. She was right outside the window Lacie. And me room was on the second floor..." Shawn shook his head "And I knew it had to o'been a banshee. She looked just like me cousin, who died o'the shakes a few months prior. My pa always did say she might come back as the household haunt, she wasn't ready t'leave just yet."

"So, that's it? You saw some apparitions at your window and think it was some folklore horror?" Sammy rolled his eyes.

"Yep. An' then in the morning me grandpa was dead. Dreadful song she went and had t'sing. I was just 5 too! T'damn beour coulda gone bother me brother instead... He was t'one that used to scare us wee lads with these tales o'ghosts n' ghoulies..."

Well, that wasn't a very nice story. And it likely had a reasonable explanation behind it too. Just a small child frightened by tales and likely still coming to terms with losing a cousin.

"Oh, that's nothin'!" Wally grinned. "Ghost stories aren't anythin' compared to what I found in a ditch when I was 8!"

"Oh yeah? Then enlighten us, oh scare Meister!" Shawn barked back, glaring slightly. "What coulda been worse than a banshee?"

"How about a maneater?" The janitor offered.

Shawn fell quiet and others began to whisper among each other at the claim, before Norman began to hush everyone.

"Go on then... Yous can't just say that an' not tell us."

"Oh man, it was the dang scariest thing I'd seen as a kid!" Wally grinned. "Us tykes from Brooklyn? We didn't grow up with monster stories and such. Our mas and pas told us about kidnappers and murderers instead, cuzz those are like, real dangers you know?"

He took a sip from his cooling bowl of soup, before clearing his throat.

"But you know what kids are like. They like adventure and don't really listen too much cuzz, you only believe it when you see it!" He carried on. "Me? I was with a couple a pals exploring this old ditch that had some neat stuff people used to throw in there. Busted watches, trinkets, sometimes a lost wallet with a little bit of cash in it...Well that day there wasn't just goodies."

Sammy sipped his own soup and felt Susie's arm brush up against his as she got on the edge of her seat. She was excited to hear wherever Wally's story was going.

"Local news had like, been going on about this one loon that had run off from the big house or somethin'. Some big mug who was a pervert or whatever. Adult stuff we kids didn't care for." Wally looked around as he spoke. "Only he wasn't no pervert, just really messed in the head. A cannibal. A cannibal that liked eating little tots. You know, stories like Little Johnny went pokin' around where he shouldn't and now there was no Little Johnny no more? Yeah that nearly was us."

"You found the guy in the ditch?" Sammy guessed.

"Nope! Found my neighbor, Sally, partially eaten and all kinds o' messed up." Wally replied "I figured we were in trouble so we ran like our butts were on fire and screamed the whole way back. Coppers caught the fucker and his picture on the paper still gives me nightmares. If we'd found him instead, we woulda ended up like Sally!"

Everyone looked extremely disturbed at the thought of a couple of 8 year olds finding another child's partially eaten corpse.

"Shite... No wonder yer such a mog. Brooklyn's fucked up!" Shawn winced.

"Hey!" Wally pouted.

"Also your story was misleading. You didn't actually encounter the "maneater"." Sammy pointed out. "That's not how you should advertise a tale you twit."

"Would ya rather I have found the creep that did it?"

"No, next time just don't make it sound like an actual encounter when it's an anecdote about another outcome entirely."

"Don't go bein' an ass Lawrence." Norman called out. "I thought the story was good. Messed up, but good... Granted it don't top what I experienced when I was still in the cradle."

"Oh, this ought to be good." The blond smirked. "Word of mouth?"

"My Nanna never told no lie. Yous won't find a more honest lady." Norman smirked back.

At this point everyone had finished their soup and was practically laying or leaning against one another for warmth. It helped that the story telling atmosphere had all but made everyone forget about the cold.

Norman being so tall and obscuring the stove ever so slightly, cast strange shadows on the wall.

"Now, this happened a few months after I was born. My Nanna was lookin' after me while my mama and memaw was helpin' my pops and pepaw out in the cotton fields. My brother and sister wasn't that much older either, not yet ready to go pickin', so they was in their room playin' together." He leaned back in his chair, a content smile on his face "Nanna was just preparin' lunch while I was layin' in this big ol' basket full o' pillows and blankets, just sleepin' away like babies do. She turned 'round to chop up some carrots when she had this weird feelin' all of a sudden."

Sammy put an arm around Susie as he listened. Norman was a pretty good story teller. Had this voice that just pulled you in. He could almost imagine a little chubby baby in a basket while an old lady prepared food in the kitchen.

"Nanna Polk always had a feel for when things were no good all of a sudden. She'd known when Poppop weren't doing well in the head, and she knew how to pop a shot into a big gator when it got too close to the house. She wasn't afraid o'nothin'." Norman carried on. "But she was afraid. She was afraid when the blade o'her knife caught the reflection o'this big brute pullin' my basket out the window."

Sammy winces and Susie tightened her grip on his arm. The others were quite aghast as well, at the thought of an innocent little babe getting snatched away by some stranger.

"Nanna didn't scream. She didn't wanna scare my siblings you see... Instead she tiptoed towards the backdoor, knife in hand, and kept outta sight o'the man that was tryin' to take me away." Norman hummed as he thought back on what Nanna had told him. "You know, they often tell ya 'bout southern hospitality. If yous is friendly and respectful, yous always got a friend. They don't tell yous about Louisiana ladies like my sweet Nanna tho... They is forged of iron and grief. Strong and protective o'their youngins... She knew what that man wanted from me, an' she wasn't bout to let it happen."

"What did she do?" Wally asked, bitting his knuckles as he put his legs up to his chest.

"Put the knife through his back. She pushed him so he wouldn't go an' fall on me, oh 'course, and that basket well about saved my life cuzz it was damn well padded and didn't so much as wake me when it hit the ground."

"Holy shit..."

"Now, that might sound a little extreme to yous, but I trust Nanna's judgement." Norman began once he noticed the horrified looks on his coworker's faces. "That man woulda taken me somewhere no one could'a gotten me from, an' she wasn't 'bout to lose anyone else to them creeps. Nanna was smart, and Nanna was hard workin'. She buried the bastard where he fell, an' planted a tree t'remember it too. I got to put a swing on it when it grew big enough to support the weight."

"Where were they going to take you?" Sammy finally asked, once he realized no one would do so. "The man?"

"Hm, well I don't know exactly. But she did say it was where my Poppop grew up, so I know it wasn't a good place." Norman frowned. "They did bad things to him, made him messed up in the head an' dangerous. Nanna saved me from endin' up the same way... Don't care if it wasn't the right way t'do it, them folks don't deserve no pity if they go stealin' babies from their cribs t'do god only knows what."

"Well... For what is worth, we're glad your nanna saved you Norman. You're a gem." Susie smiled which got the much larger man to chuckle.

"How's that for a story then? Anyone steppin' up to top it off?"

No one seemed to have anything that quite matched the energy of this... What should he call it? Cultist kidnapping story? It certainly sounded that the man was some underground cultist if he was taking babies to indoctrinate, or whatever...

The blond watched, saw no one step up to the challenge, and then remembered.

"Well, it may not be as bad as getting snatched away. But I do recall a rather peculiar set of events from before I moved to New York with my father." He began, the band members snorting and whispering among themselves that it was probably something stupid. He glared their way before looking at Norman who gestured for him to go on.

"Floor's all yours Sammy."

"Right." He thought back, way back when he was 10. Just a year prior to his mother's death. It was all a little foggy but the more he concentrated on what his father had told him about that night, the less his explanation made sense once correlated with his own memories. "I didn't exactly grow up in the city. Not until I was 11 that is... I actually lived in a cattle ranch for a while."

"That explains why you call us sheep." Johnny laughed.

"No, I call you sheep because your job is to follow me, you damn goat." Sammy snarled back at the interrupting organist.

"Ouch." Jack winced.

"Either way, as a child living with a father who raised cattle for a living, one can expect that I was often tasked to help with a few of the animals. Mainly cleaning the pens and, if I was particularly lucky, shearing the sheep." The sheep, he confesses, had been his favourite. They were dumb and cute. "My father usually dealt with the larger animals. When this event occured, he'd just bought a big healthy heifer. His ornery old bull had covered our best breeding cow but she'd not been having calves."

"Was she called Bessie?" Wally grinned.

"The name of the cow isn't of importance!" Sammy rolled his eyes. "It was Felicity by the way."

"My mistake."

"Either way, my father was a breeder, so his breeding female not producing offsprings was a big deal. I was a kid so I wasn't particularly interested if Felicity had issues, I just liked watching her when she had little calves. They were the cutest thing right after the baby lambs." Sammy carried on "The new heifer, Clarabelle, arrived that day and immediately the bull was put to working. My father thought That'd be the end of his problems... An easy fix. Except it wasn't..."

"She sterile?" Norman asked.

"Oh I wish that had been it. I was 10, had seen animals in plenty of states from sickness or wild animal attacks. But never had I seen a cow turned inside out, other than in a damn butcher's..." Sammy shuddered. He could still remember it... Going outside to get the eggs like his father had asked, and just finding this massive dead heifer with no skin on her body. His mother had said he'd screamed like the devil himself had been before him.

"Oh god..." Susie gagged slightly. "That couldn't have been nice..."

"It wasn't. I was freaked out and my father was furious. Clarabelle had been an expensive purchase. And she wasn't the only casualty." Sammy shook his head. "The pen was wrecked, the bull was in better state but no less dead, and poor Felicity must have run into whatever butchered them both because she had a massive wound on her hind. Every animal was spooked out of their minds and even our sheepdog wouldn't come out of the house. Peed himself when we tried coaxing him."

"Did ya find what did it?" Shawn asked.

"No, we couldn't find anything that explained it." Sammy carried on. "No tracks, no trails of blood, nothing. The pen was just ruined, like it had been splintered apart, and Clarabelle looked to have just... I don't know how to explain it. Pop? Like a balloon?"

"I figure your father wasn't too keen on going' about business after that?"

"He wanted compensation, but you can't exactly put the blame on anything if you can't even find a cause." The music director sighed "We eventually just decided to call it quits on figuring out what the hell happened and went on with our lives. But then things just got... Weird."

Strange lights at night, bizarre noises, and horrific night terrors. Sammy's father had lost his patience when he'd found their dog's remains and called the authorities.

"We were all on edge, unsure what was going on at the ranch, and losing animals every night. My father called the cops, saying someone must be playing some seriously messed up joke to terrorize us. He'd made a lot of enemies with his attitude over the years, so I wouldn't have been surprised..." He trailed of, beginning to feel goosebumps as he recalled the final night of these strange occurances. "And then one night I saw something strange out of my window. Stranger than anything else."

Everyone was eager for the conclusion, he could tell. Taking a deep breath, he recounted what he'd been a witness to.

"I wasn't sleeping well, no one was, but I just couldn't settle in bed that night. It felt too warm in my room so I got up to open a window." His 10 year old self had always struggled with the latch on his window, but not that night. That night it opened without a fuss. "I saw... A figure. Out in the fields. Cast in weird green light that I couldn't put a source to. They were tall, and I couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman, but I assumed man because there wasn't a hair on its head... I just stared, and it looked to be staring back. Next thing I know, I'm outside in my pajamas, staring up at this pitch black figure... Taller, imposing, faceless. No eyes, no nose, no mouth... And yet it felt like it was glaring hatefully at me. Frustrated, angry... It pointed at the woods and I don't... I don't know what it wanted and I was just a scared kid."

He gulped heavily as he recalled how oppressive everything had felt.

"Again I blacked out, but this time awoke inside to my mother fanning me. My dad was yelling at the cops and it was morning." Sammy frowns "Yelling at them to get that damn thing off his property, and to fuck right off since they were so useless at their damn job."

A soft amen from a member of the writer's department. Followed by a chuckle from another one.

"My throat was raw, and when I tried to ask what happened, my mom told me they'd found me outside at the edge of the woods, screaming until my voice went. Screaming about wanting out of the woods. Screaming about wanting to go home... Screaming that nothing here was good to eat and that I was going to die... I don't recall doing it, and my father said I'd probably had a nightmare of some kind. A fever dream even, since mom had been trying to cool me down for a good reason." He bit his lip "It's odd, I'd just fallen ill overnight and everything was fuzzy... I asked why the cops were here, and my father said when he'd gone to get me he'd spotted a weather balloon of some kind in the woods. The cops were there to take it away."

Everyone stared, confused and trying to figure out how these events connected. He gave them a shrug.

"I have no idea what was going on, so don't ask. I was 10, animals were dying weirdly, and I got so sick all of a sudden that I started sleep walking and hallucinating demonic figures. No one ever said anything about the weather balloon in the local paper either, so I don't even know what to think of that." He leaned against Susie "It was weird, but it stopped. Still that thing kept appearing in my nightmares for a while... It faded with time but it bothered me while it was still fresh in my mind."

"Sounds like aliens." Wally pips up.

"No such thing." Bertrum laughed at the suggestion. "Just a bunch of vandalism, fallen governament property, animal attacks, and a child's overactive imagination."

"No, I'm serious! Stuff like that happens in farms all the time! Stuff no one can explain..."

"Wally, there's tons o' things none can explain in this world already." Norman pointed out. "I'm not sure what sorta thing Sammy might o' stumbled upon as a kid... But little green men don't sound plausible."

"Oh come on, ain't it obvious? Cows gettin' killed, the strange damages? The fallen thing in the woods? The spooky figure? The one person who no one would believe being chosen to see the alien? Then the cops just swoopin' in and covering it up? Happened just the same to my uncle Paul!"

"What I saw wasn't little or green. Don't make it another one of your outlandish tall tales." Sammy grinned, enjoying how much Wally was puffing up.

"Bite your tongue! It ain't a tall tale!"

"Sure it's not."

"Boys don't fight... Because I've got one heck of a story that'll make Norman's and Sammy's feel like child's play!" Susie cut in, with a devilish grin of her own.

And so the night carried on, with more stories to be shared. All the while Sammy laughed and listened, content with the situation.

Although... He did still wonder what he'd seen out in the field. Surely it couldn't have been extraterrestrial.

Hm... Yes, surely not. Just a bad dream and some sick prank. Had to have been.

#Eps Writes:#Bendy and the Ink Machine #BATIM

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bisexualdaemon · 4 years

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Closer: All Hallows Eve (Vampire!Shawn)

a/n: hello, my dear friends! I haven’t written in an age and then Halloween happened and I couldn’t help but revisit my friend vampire!Shawn. this was going to be a blurb LOL and then ended up turning into a 5.5k oneshot(?) of this little universe I’ve created. I honestly think Closer is going to be non-linear. a series of oneshots of different periods in Shawn’s vampire life. this is one such period. btw, some of this is based on characterizations found in the show Versailles, so if you’re into that show you might find familiar things in here! enjoy!

The first chapter of Closer, along with the rest of my writing is linked in my masterlist! ❤️

warnings: smut, blood, bisexuality, more blood, aggression, mentions of infant mortality

Two fingers of scotch swirled in the tumbler in front of him. Some tawdry monster song poured from the jukebox to a full crowd on the dance floor, accompanied by hoots and hollers from the humans. Halloween was always an event at The Trinity. Old and young, sire and fledgling, all of them flocked to the city for the festivities, for the time when the wall between paranormal and normal was but a translucent curtain, easily passed through or, in the case of The Trinity, ripped down. It was this one night a year that vampires could feed openly and no one batted an eyelash. Humans came dressed in costume and paid a pricey cover fee to get in. Liquor flowed freely from John Somerset’s bar and The Trinity vibrated with energy from sundown to sun up.

“It’s not what it used to be, is it?” John walked over with Shawn’s favorite scotch to top off his glass. Shawn hummed his assent, remembering a time when humans knew nothing of vampires, and their feeding habits weren’t such a spectacle. He missed the old days. Missed the thrill of the chase.

Tonight, he’d put forth minimal effort to keep up with the expectation, just painted black fingernails and a touch of eyeliner. Humans didn’t need much convincing once they looked at him. He had always been beautiful, even when he was a human in the 14th century, but when he became a vampire, that beauty was eternalized, frozen forever. Neither women nor men could resist him and he knew it.

“Remember 1685?” Shawn sat back and tilted his head at John.

“Ah, yes. You were in France then, oui?” John winked, clearing the wine bottle that had stacked up behind the bar.

“I was,” Shawn hummed and swilled his glass, tipping it up and letting the brown liquor burn his throat all the way down to his empty and aching stomach. His eyes shut, lulled by the warmth of his drink. Hazy memories burst into color behind his eyes.

His heeled shoes clicked against the parquet floor, the burgundy brocade bows adorning his toes kept in place by antique silver buckles. It was 1685, and Louis, le Roi Soleil, was King of France. The chandeliers above the king’s new mirrored walkway were lit with dripping candles, makeshift skeletons hanging from them. A macabre scene set for the masquerade happening at the palace. The noise rose to deafening as he crept toward the ballroom, filled with courtiers and royal family members, all of them ready to lay down at Louis’ feet. He entered quietly, like he usually did, not wanting to draw attention to himself in a room full of humans.

“RAUL!” The Duke of Orléans shouted Shawn’s French name over the crowd. The King’s brother came rushing over, his advancing age finally beginning to show in his face, “how long have you been here?!”

“Philippe, you just saw me walk in the door. Don’t be coy.” Shawn drew him in for a kiss on each side of his face. Philippe reached up and tousled Shawn’s cropped, curly brown hair.

“You know if you just wore your hair long people wouldn’t ask so many questions.” Philippe knew Shawn’s dark secret, knew what others whispered about him. Shawn could look around the room and pick out the handful of courtiers he’d fed on, courtiers he’d taken to his rooms in Philippe’s wing of the palace. Though Philippe had never shared his bed, he’d been Shawn’s friend for years, since his brother welcomed Shawn to the palace in the wake of the English Civil War thirty-five years ago. The duke had been ten then. The forty-five year old man in front of him was starting to gray.

“What makes you think I don’t want them to ask questions?” Shawn smiled wide enough to show his already lengthening fangs responding to the adrenaline and blood present in the room. There was no better place to feed than at a party in the presence of the king.

“Monsieur!” The Chevalier de Lorraine came up behind Philippe, tickling his sides. Ever since he’d returned from his second exile, the Chevalier and Philippe had been more and more open about their continued affair, despite Philippe’s wife dancing not ten yards from them in the ballroom. In fact, Philippe was wearing one of her heavy brocatelle gowns, much to his brother’s chagrin, and a golden mask that hid his whole face.

Shawn’s own mask was black with burgundy texture, a demon in plain sight. His jacket and culottes were black, embroidered with burgundy bats and stars. The leather sewn sleeves allowed his deep red shirt to show beneath. He was every bit a vampire, but the fools in the ballroom were too blind to see it. Especially tonight of all nights, All Hallows’ Eve.

He could see a few others here. His kind stuck out like blinding beacon amongst this crowd of flushed and greedy humans. Some were regulars in this crowd. He spotted Reynald de Chatillon, an old foe, in the corner with his ruddy beard and thirst for young ladies-in-waiting. He regarded him, nodding, receiving little more than a sneer in return. But others were new. A delicate shoulder brushed against his and a brilliant jewel caught his eye. She was cold as ice with a matching frozen glare. Her perfectly coiffed and powdered gray wig bespoke her fledgling age. The older the vampire, the more out of fashion they tended to be, and she was the epitome of fashion. Down to the smooth yellow sapphire delicately tied around her neck. He’d never seen her before, not quite a rarity, but he would be sure to ask Philippe about her later.

“Gentlemen!” Shawn clapped one hand on Philippe’s shoulder and one hand on Chevalier’s, “we feast tonight!” The two men led Shawn to the front of the room, giggling at his double entendre. Before any feasting though, the three of them had to acknowledge the king. Shawn bowed.

“Raul. So good of you to come,” the king’s lip curved up in the corner somewhere between a smirk and a grimace. Louis had never been able to stomach the truth about Shawn, even though Shawn’s money had helped make him the so-called Sun King. His disgust relegated Shawn to his brother’s company, which caused no complaint. Philippe was pleased to keep Shawn close, an addition to his band of privileged misfits.

“You know, you might be the only person my brother is more disappointed to see at these functions than me,” Philippe bumped Shawn’s shoulder as they walked away.

“Disappointed and yet he keeps you here,” Shawn reminded Philippe.

“That’s the real humor in it. To trap me under his thumb, he must gaze upon my face every day.” The duke smiled wide and curtsied, fanning out his overskirt and sticking his tongue straight out when he stood up again.

The party had been going for hours before Shawn had walked in. Generic golden masks littered the tables, some soggy from tipped champagne flutes. Chevalier seized one, licking up some stray champagne from its edge. He’d come unprepared for the occasion as he usually did, unbothered by party themes especially those hosted at Versailles. Affixing the mask to his face, he grabbed at Philippe’s hand.

“Darling! Let us dance!”

Shawn let them skitter into the center of the dance floor without him. The crowd parted to the center as it always did. Philippe was still the king’s brother and that afforded him privileges no matter what others thought of his choice of lovers. The two of them were so caught up in each other that the opinion of others didn’t matter.

Shawn kept to the perimeter, preferring to stalk the room. He caught eyes here and there. He could smell their responses to him before he saw them. A girl no more than eighteen flushed immediately when his eyes met hers, her giggle betraying her girlish immaturity. He turned from her, hearing her little sigh of disappointment, before his eyes stopped and lingered at someone else.

He was feeling aggressive tonight. Though his body was devoid of blood, the chemicals that had once made him human still coursed through his muscles. They made him strong and virile and, more than anything, an animal. He needed to chase tonight, to delight in the thrill of catching his prey.

He turned his nose toward the breeze in the room and let it guide him, taking quick sniffs, trying to cut through the smell of champagne and red wine. Closing his eyes to strengthen his other senses, he caught a whiff of cinnamon and turned his head. He honed in on the spice of it, the touch of bergamot that thickened the blood. When he opened his eyes, he couldn’t stop himself from gasping.

It was a man. A young man dressed in uniform with a navy blue mask, peacock feathers sprouting from the temples. The gold of his buttons glimmered in the candlelight, his jacket settled against a defined chest untouched by war. His turquoise and gold eyes contrasted starkly with the black eye kohl that ringed them, eyes that kept darting to and from Shawn’s face. Shawn stared, moving toward him slowly. Even though the room was filled with music and dancing and the dim hum of a thousand voices, he knew that his feet made no noise.

The hunt had begun.

“Do you know,” Shawn reached out his hand and fingered the delicate feathers, “that these are the same color as your eyes?”

“Enchanté to you too, Monsieur Mendès. Or should I call you Shawn?” He emphasized the name with a curl in his lip.

“You know me?” Shawn’s eyes widened in surprise. In this court he’d only ever been known as Raul Mendès, the French rendering of one of his Christian names.

“If by know you, you mean do I know the truth of what people say about you?” he bowed low, his outstretched hand brushing Shawn’s shoes. “Then yes, I know you quite well.” When he reached his full height again, he had removed his mask and revealed his flushed pink cheeks. Shawn could see the blood rushing wildly with his quickly beating heart just under the skin. His mouth watered despite the panic rising in his throat.

“Well, well, and who are you, monsieur?” Shawn dipped his head, filled with nerves he’d never show. If he had a pulse right now, if would be racing. Thank God he hadn’t fed in over a month. A vampire’s name was a closely guarded secret, known only to familiars, especially a former name.

“I am Lucien de Foix, a captain in the king’s army,” he stuck out his hand for Shawn to shake. Shawn took it hesitantly, a creeping unsteadiness overtaking him. How does he know my name? He kept a grip on Lucien’s hand, squeezing a little harder than he normally would, squeezing until he could see the sweat forming on the young captain’s head. Lucien’s brow creased, his mouth opening as if he might cry out, but as he looked past Shawn something caught his eye and to Shawn’s horror, he smiled.

“There, there, Shawn,” a cold hand, accompanied by a female voice, ran down his back and caused him to shiver. “Fear not, we are the only ones here who know your secret.”

It was the young fledgling vampire with the powdered wig. Her skin, unlike the white painted faces in the room, was naturally pale as blank china, marred only by a pair of starkly painted black eyebrows and two round circles of blush. She pursed her lips, tinted crimson as if she’d recently fed and left the stain. She circled Shawn, stopping in front of him and linking her arm with Lucien’s. Shawn turned his hand, exposing Lucien’s wrist and the livid, purple pinpoint marks left by repeated feedings. He should have fucking known.

“So,” he squeezed his hand again, enough to feel the bones grind together, “you’re a blood slave.” The fledgling hissed at him, whether it was at sensing her toy’s pain or at his implication, he didn’t know. If he hadn’t been in a ballroom full of people, he might have snapped both their necks without consequence or remorse. As it was, he had to play nice.

“He is my husband,” she cooed into Lucien’s neck, her tongue darting out to trace the bulging vein running from his collar to his well-defined jaw.

“A tasty one at that, I presume,” Shawn smirked at her. He knew this game. Vampires developed a taste for certain humans, enthralling them, keeping them as pets. She may have convinced him that he meant something to her, something more permanent, but one day she would move on. He would not. He would likely descend into madness, looking for her or for his next pleasure fix, but no vampire would touch him after that. He would be persona non grata, tainted and tossed aside.

“Very,” she purred, “can I interest you in a taste?”

“That depends,” Shawn hated that his mouth was still watering, still craving the spice that his blood promised, “who are you and what do you want from me?”

“I,” she held her hand out for him to kiss in a deep curtsy, “am Madame de Montpensier, enchanté.” Her wig was fixed with several small doves, matching the embroidery on her silver and white gown. Even at her most bowed, the wig still reached clear over Shawn’s head. This vampire wanted to be seen.

“And I would like you to introduce me to your friends.” She nodded toward the two men still at the center of attention on the dance floor.

“To Philippe?” Shawn tipped his head and laughed, “Philippe has little time or regard for women. I doubt you’d gain any ground on that front.”

“Oh, it is not pour moi,” she nodded at Lucien and he advanced toward Shawn, his heart kicking up speed. Shawn’s fangs grew to full length. They ached to sink into his beautiful tan skin. God, it was as if she knew he hadn’t been feeding, knew his habits and preferences. His weakness for young men with ambition and a false sense of power. It was as if this Lucien had been groomed for this.

The pieces finally clicked. His eyes darkened and his voice lowered to a whisper through his teeth.

“Tell me, Madame, has Reynald fallen so far out of favor that he sends his young fledgling to do his bidding?” Fucking Reynald. This was low, even for a leech like Reynald. His claws were always in some king’s coattails. It was the only way to keep up with his ravenous appetite for blood and power.

“Reynald does not need you! He is just as powerful as he always was!” She seethed, tilting her head toward Lucien again. He draped himself in front of Shawn, practically offering himself for the taking. Shawn could feel his body stirring. He wanted this man, wanted to rip into his veins and drink until he couldn’t anymore, until his whole body was hot and flushed with the young captain’s blood. Until his heart beat again and the memories surged behind his eyelids.

“Reynald needs me plenty or you wouldn’t be here,” Shawn spat, locking eyes with Lucien, a hair’s breadth away from taking him right then and there. He dipped his head to Lucien’s ear, licking the outer shell and relishing the feel of his body shivering beneath him.

He could see his ministrations were having an effect on her. Her fangs were lengthening. Shawn could smell her arousal, the blood and adrenaline a trap for one so young as she was. She couldn’t have been more than fifty years dead, frozen forever in her twenty-year-old body. She was thirsty. All the time. That feeling, the clawing beast inside her skin that could never be sated, the endless need for blood in the first century of her new life would be almost unbearable.

He took Lucien’s earlobe between his teeth, grazing, but not breaking the skin before he whispered.

“Run.”

Lucien shot from Shawn’s arms, past his mistress and toward the enormous French doors that led to the outdoor terrace. Shawn was so attuned to him now, so caught up in the chase that he could hear Lucien’s booted footfalls on the delicately manicured grass over the din of the crowded room. He stood in front of Madame de Montpensier and waited.

“Thank you for the gift, you’re more than welcome to join me,” he heard his prey stumble on the gravel path near the great fountain in the garden, “but you can tell Reynald that it will take more than a beautiful boy and a game of blackmail to get me to do his bidding.” He brushed past her, too concentrated on the blood waiting for him in the garden to hear her cry of indignance.

Exiting the ballroom to the terrace, he crouched down and laid his palm against the chilly stone. He could hear Lucien breathing hard. He was running. His footfalls vibrated against the stone from the treeline, slower and slower until he stopped to catch his breath. Shawn smiled, finding his opportunity.

He sprinted, almost faster than a human eye could track, his vampire speed in the dark rendering him practically invisible. His feet barely touched the ground, silently making his way closer and closer toward Lucien’s gasping breaths. He stopped behind a tree, looking past it. Lucien was doubled over, his cheeks flushed with exhilaration, sucking cold air into his lungs and huffing out little clouds with every exhale. Shawn snapped a fallen twig under his heel on purpose.

“Who’s there?!” Lucien’s head snapped up.

“There, there, monsieur,” Shawn cooed, using his softest voice to soothe, “you knew it was me.” He smiled wide, his fangs extending past his lower lip, as if they might cut into his own skin. Stalking silently, he moved closer, taking measured, slow steps to put Lucien at ease. The blood tasted so much sweeter when it wasn’t tainted with fear.

“You won’t hurt me? Madame never makes it hurt.”

“I make no promises.” Shawn stopped just in front of him, dragging a cold finger down in his pink cheek. His skin was on fire despite the chill in the air. The warmth of his blood sang a rich melody that only Shawn could hear. It was intoxicating. He bent down to Lucien’s mouth, where the smell of him was strongest.

“Can I kiss you?” Shawn asked, an honest question. He prefered intimacy with his prey. He wanted them to feel the truth of his desire, wanted them to know that without them, he was nothing. As powerful as he was as a vampire, he was nothing without their blood. He wanted them to want it.

Lucien nodded his head, a crease between his eyes as if he was surprised he felt agreeable to it. Shawn grinned. Men were always surprised at how far they were willing to go to gain Shawn’s approval.

Shawn pressed his lips to Lucien’s and gasped into his mouth. It was simple, two lips pressed together, but it was heady with that natural spice that men always seemed to have. The power they sacrificed to be fed upon, the beautiful surrender of delicate ego. It was everything that he loved about being a vampire captured in a moment of pure submission. He pulled away light-headed, his eyes black with hunger.

Shawn’s cold fingers found Lucien’s neck, tipping it to the side, exposing that deep, pulsing vein that he could see beating a quick rhythm full of blood, even in the low light. He cradled his head and ran his tongue along the sinews, the muscles that would become his chalice. Lucien shivered, gasping a hot breath against Shawn’s cold skin, filling Shawn’s nose with that warm spice that he’d smelled on the air inside.

His fangs broke skin.

Lucien cried out. In pleasure or pain, Shawn didn’t know. He didn’t care. All he knew was the taste of the warm, viscous liquid pouring from Lucien’s neck. Cinnamon, citrus, smoke. Each note bloomed behind his closed eyes in brilliant jewel tones. Rubies, emeralds, and amethysts swirled like a kaleidoscope.

Shawn felt Lucien’s fingers curl into his hair and push his neck farther into Shawn’s mouth, forcing Shawn to pull even more of his precious blood. It overflowed, dripping in rivulets from Shawn’s mouth. There would be stains, evidence of what had happened, but Shawn didn’t care. He was lost in this man. For a split second, he understood why Montpensier had taken him as a slave. Regular encounters with these veins would surely drive him mad.

The kaleidoscope swam as it always did into images, the moments from his past that he hid from between feedings. The list he kept of the humans he’d fed on turned into faces, one by one swimming into his mind. Memories of blood, of battle, of humanity. His heart was coming alive again, beating strong with Lucien’s blood, stronger than Lucien’s own heart.

He pulled away panting. Lucien��s head lulled, still alive but incoherent. Shawn laid him gently on the cold ground and backed away, controlling the temptation to take all that Lucien would give him, all that he had to give. Leaning heavily on a massive old oak, Shawn’s mind swam. His old life, his old humanity was coming back to him on a tidal wave, slamming him over and over into the bark against his back. Poitiers, Agincourt, Bosworth, Paris, Bologne. So much death and blood and iron, battles between kings and men, all dead and buried, turned to dust.

The final wave of memories was always the same hazy image. A fire burning in the hearth of the home he’d built with his own hands, a woman and child in a chair before it. He walks up behind her, touching her shoulder, and she looks back smiling. The child suckling at her breast, warm and pink, fixes him with a blue-eyed stare. It was everything he’d ever wanted.

And it was taken from him.

His chest rose and fell. The compelling need to breathe to keep up with his newly beating heart overwhelmed him. He always felt most human in the seconds just after the feed. Though blood coated his chin and ran down to his now ruined shirt, his senses were dulled to that of a living thing. He couldn’t hear past the beating of his own heart, couldn’t taste past the life he’d consumed. He was vulnerable and she knew it.

Madame de Montpensier had been watching. She came out from behind the tree where she’d been hiding, smiling wide, fangs grown to their full length. Closing the gap between them quickly, she planted her hands above Shawn’s shoulders, her fingers playing with the loose curls at his neck.

“Isn’t he lovely?” She cooed, looking back at her pet lying on the ground.

“He is,” Shawn licked his lips, turning her head with his fingers to look him in the eye, “‘tis a dangerous game you play with Reynald. You would do well to not cross me again.”

“Reynald is gone,” she whispered, “and besides, I’m not sure he interests me anymore.” She set him with a look, a look that shouted his needs and greatest desires into existence. If he wanted her, he only needed to reach out and take.

“Oh, does he not? Madame, I know you are young,” he rested his forehead against hers, his earlier anger eroding by the second, “but you will find disavowing your sire more difficult than you think.”

“That may be,” she lifted up onto her tip-toes, reaching her tongue out to lap up some of Lucien’s still warm blood from Shawn’s chin, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun while I try.” She ran her hand down his chest to where the blood he’d taken from Lucien was rapidly pooling in his groin.

He growled, taking her hand and moving to drag her off to the nearest bedroom. She dug in her heels to stop him, looking back at Lucien still passed out.

“Leave him,” Shawn barked, “perhaps it will teach him not to dally with vampires.”

In a moment, they were back in Shawn’s rooms, a trail of shredded clothing on the floor from the door to the bed. She moved to remove her choker but he stopped her.

“Leave it on,” he snarled, rolling his hose down and removing the last of his ripped and bloody shirt. She moved her hands away from her throat and sat back on the bed, leaning back on her hands. She spread her legs in an open invitation.

She was fucking beautiful. Her skin glowed in the half-burned candles sitting on every surface, smooth and unmarred by age or sickness. He couldn’t stop himself from groaning. It had been some time since he’d been with a woman. Too long. He approached her slowly, bending down to crawl on his knees to her.

He covered her body with his, taking in her clean scent suffused with Lucien’s. They were both warm, hearts beating together with the same blood. She curled her legs around his thighs.

“I want you inside me.” She purred in his ear.

All he’d needed was permission. He drove his hips into hers, pumping deep into her warm cunt. She cried out, arching her back and clamping her arms into his wrists. Her nails dug into his skin, drawing blood. Hissing, he pulled back and lifted onto his knees. She laughed, licking each of her crimson stained fingers.

“Come on, Shawn. Give me everything you’ve got.”

He roared. Grabbing her hips, he pulled almost all the way out of her warmth and then tugged her back onto him. Their skin met in a deliciously wet slap and echoed off the ornate walls. It was intense. He felt her clench around him, deep inside, all the way through his repeated strokes. He rowed into her over and over and over again until the delicate doves placed in her wig flew off the bed, cracking loudly against the floor. She held tight to the bedpost behind her, her strength creating resistance for him to fuck harder into.

He wasn’t going to last much longer like this, but he needed her there with him. To fall off the cliff and into the ocean of Lucien’s blood that they shared. He wrapped his arm around her middle, hauling her up to his chest and slamming them both backward against the headboard, still fucking his hips up into hers.

Her eyes were black, her mouth open in silent pleasure. He wanted to hear her scream.

Shawn ducked his head to her chest, placing open mouthed kisses along her breast bone. Her red-flushed nipples called to him, grazing his chest with every thrust.

“Come with me.”

He sank his fangs into her breast, suckling on her perfect diamond-hard peaks. Blood rushed again into his mouth, filling him with that spicy, citrusy blood he’d lost himself in earlier. It mixed with florals, oleander and magnolia, inside her body and he came hard with the mix of masculine and feminine.

“Shawn!” she cried, bearing down on him harder than ever, riding her own orgasm into the wall behind her. They rocked back and forth together. Shawn fucked his hips up into hers as she held his head to her chest. Her memories came to him, blooming in front of him as strong as her shaking body in his arms.

There were not many of them; as he had suspected, she was not old. He saw her as a young woman, a human, hand in hand with a child, a daughter, with bouncy, loose blond curls. He saw her dressed all in black, saw Reynald finding her on her knees beside a child’s mausoleum. He promised he could take her pain away.

Reynald lied.

He let go of her breast, breathless for the second time that night. She heaved against him, clawing at his face, pulling him to her lips. Blood poured into her mouth and they both moaned, her memories and his mixing. New and old, predator and prey, lovers.

They collapsed onto the blood stained sheets. Shawn held his arms open and she crawled into them quietly, fingering the bit of chest hair that had grown before he had left his humanity behind. She knew what he’d seen. When vampires fed from each other, the memories flashed in both their minds.

“Reynald made false promises because he wanted you,” he whispered, tracing patterns on her bare skin, “he is nothing but a liar.”

“Will I ever forget her?” she asked, knowing the answer but needing to hear it from someone she knew would tell her the truth.

“No,” he kissed her forehead, “she will come to you every time you feed, just like I see my wife and child even now more than three hundred years since their passing.”

“Teach me,” she pleaded, the hazel of her human eyes bright after feeding, “teach me how to live with the pain.”

“Shhhh,” he smoothed her hair, “let us sleep.” He draped the heavy blankets over them and she rested her head on his shoulder.

“Nothing could dare hurt you here.”

“Shawn?” John clinked his glass with an empty beer bottle, “I think someone is watching you.” He nodded to a far corner, beyond the sea of human and vampire heads now dancing idiotically to “Monster Mash.” The figure moved with inhuman speed through the crowd.

He blinked to make sure he wasn’t seeing a ghost.

How in the —

“Oh, don’t look so shocked to see me, Shawn,” she lifted her black leather covered leg over his, “All Hallows Eve always was our time.” Her lips, always painted red, lifted back over her cartoonishly long fake fangs.

“Hélène, what are you doing here?”

“Don’t you mean, Hélène, how did you escape when I left you for dead?” She narrowed her eyes to slits, her long chandelier earrings tinkling under her blunt-cut black bob haircut.

“It was 1792, Ellie. You wouldn’t leave France. You made your choice.”

“It was my home!”

John made a clicking noise, “vampire disputes go outside.”

“There’s no need, John. She was just going,” Shawn glared at her. “We have no dealings. If you are only interested in blaming me for what I could not change, then we have nothing to discuss.”

She slammed her hand down on the bar, leaving a wax-sealed envelope in front of him. An ornate, crimson R was pressed into the black wax.

“Reynald requests your presence.”

“You went back to him?” Shawn shook his head, a humorless grin pulling at the corner of his mouth, “after all that time?”

“Yeah, well he didn’t abandon me.” She picked up her leg and turned to leave, giving his curls a tug at the last second. He caught her hand and pulled it to his lips. She was warm, recently fed. He had always loved her skin in the days after a feeding, curling into her warmth every night in bed. They fed and fucked and drank and danced for a century and she still went back to him.

“I never meant for that to happen.” He wasn’t sure what he had meant to happen all those years ago when he left her, the peasants breaking windows and setting fires a few blocks from their Paris apartment, but he sure as hell didn’t mean for her to go to him.

“We never mean for bad things to happen, but it’s like you said that first night. I don’t know why I ever thought I could disavow him.” She wiped at the corner of her eye, ripping her hand from his and hurrying away from the bar.

Shawn ripped open the note she’d left.

Dear Shawn Peter Raul Mendes,

Did I get all of your names in? I do love knowing them all.

Isn’t she lovely? Thank you for taking her in all those years ago. She was too headstrong, too willing to leave. I love her now. My beautiful broken pony. She begged for my forgiveness. I gave it to her. It took awhile. Fifty years in an abandoned well. That was how long it took to get your stink off of her.

I do hope you’ll come see us. I’m sure you remember where to find me.

Best wishes,

Reynald

Shawn crumpled up the old piece of paper and lobbed it into the fire near the stairs to the street. White, hot anger courses through him. He needed to leave before he took and fed on the first thing that fell into his arms, unsure if he could feed without draining. He needed to find Hélène. He needed to find Reynald.

I’m going to kill that bastard once and for all.

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