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cherrycola27 · 2 years

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Styx and Stones

Part 5:

"I have died everyday waiting for you" -Christina Perri

Pairing: Rooster x OC Delilah "Styx" Mitchell

Warnings: Language, drinking. Mentions of cheating Mentions of a character wanting to unalive themselves. 18+ Minors DNI

Maverick sat in a old hospital chair next to Rooster's bed. The poor kid had been out for three days, the exhaustion of having to keep himself and Delilah alive finally catching up with him. "Delilah," Maverick sighed thinking back to his niece.

While Maverick wanted Rooster to wake up, he dreaded having to tell his godson the news. "Poor kid, it's going to crush him." He thought.

Maverick was flipping through a magazine when Rooster began to stir. Pete wondered if he was having another nightmare or if he would actually wake up this time. Minutes ticked by on the clock, Rooster grew increasingly ansy with each second that went by until he jolted up from the bed.

"Delilah!" He screamed looking around the room for her. He jerked the oxygen mask from his face and tried to rip the IVs out of his arms. Maverick's hand came to rest on his shoulder gentle pushing him back on the bed.

"Bradley... take it easy." Maverick told him trying to soothe him. "Where is she Mav? Is she okay? I need to see her!" Rooster demanded.

Maverick let out a deep sigh. "Bradley... we... we need to talk" He whispered as tears threatened to fall from his eyes.

"Pete, no, please no!" Rooster sobbed burying his head in his hands.

"Please Mav, please don't say what I think you're going to say. Please don't tell me I let her die... please." The sobs coming from Rooster were uncontrollable. His body shook with so much force the bed he was resting in began to shake.

A nurse came in and Maverick quickly waved her away.

"Rooster, Rooster, Bradley! Look at me!" Maverick commanded. He pulled his face out of his hands just enough to meet Maverick's eyes.

"She's not dead." Maverick told him. "But it... it doesn't look good kid." He stated. "By the time we got her back here, the doctors discovered she had a severe concussion, skull fracture, cranial pressure, and some other injuries I can't remember the name of." Maverick informed Rooster.

"They took her into surgery as soon as we landed... and she... they... she died on table for ten minutes. Thankfully they got her back, but she slipped into a coma." Pete finished telling him.

"But she's going to wake up right? She is going to be okay? The brought her back. They saved her right?" Bradley asked him. "We don't know son. If and that's a big IF she comes out of this, the doctors think she will be okay, she will need some physical therapy before she can ever get back in the cockpit again though. But they don't know for sure if she will wake up. She still has brain function, but her body has endured so much trama... they just don't know."

Maverick had tears rolling down his cheeks. He knew Rooster was hurting, he was too. Hell Delilah may not have been his child, but he had raised her for over half her life... this uncertainty hurt him too.

Bradley sat there taking in the information. He was in shock at what Mav had explained to him. This wasn't fair he thought. Rooster wanted to cry, to scream, to run his fist through a wall. He was angry at God, at the world... at himself.

"This is all my fault." He choked out, voice barely above a whisper. "What?" Pete asked him confused.

"This is all my fault." Roostet repeated. "She came back to save me. She came back for me because I didn't listen to her when we were on our way back to the carrier. She told me she could handle it. That she didn't need me to save her... and I .... I didn't listen. It's all my fault!" He cried again.

"Rooster, this isn't your fault. She made the choice to come back for you. You didn't tell he to do that, I didn't tell her to do that. She CHOSE to come back for you. We both know Delilah wouldn't want you sitting here blaming yourself. It wasn't your fault Bradley. She knew what she was getting into when she came back for you.

The days after Bradley awakened all seemed to run together. Two days of him waiting for Delilah to wake up, turned into five, which turned into a week, which then turned into two weeks and now the third week of her being in a coma was rapidly approaching.

The other pilots came to visit. They spoke to him, encouraged him and waited by Styx's side if Rooster went to eat or shower.

They also talked to her. The doctors encouraged them to speak to her, they said it could help wake her up. Rooster talked to her more than anyone. And when he ran out of things to say to her, he sang.

One day Phoenix and Hangman dropped by to check on him.

"Rooster you need to go home for a little while, shower, sleep in your own bed, eat some real food. We will be right here and call you if anything changes." Phoenix said patting him on the shoulder. Rooster had been glued to Delilah's side ever since he was cleared by medical.

"Yeah dude you look like shit." Hangman added.

"Well Bagman, I did spend three days in the jungle with minimal food and water after being shot down all the while trying to keep the love of my life alive while she was suffering from a traumatic head injury only for us to be rescue and then for me to pass out for three days in a hospital. The when I woke up, I find out that said love of my life DIED on the operating table and was resuscitated during surgery and is now in a coma that she may or may not wake up from. So yeah Hangman I do look like shit... I feel like it too!" Rooster snapped.

Hangman and Phoenix's eyes went wide.

Rooster sighed. "I'm sorry man. It's just... it's been almost three weeks and I was doing some reading online and if she doesn't wake up soon the chances of her ever waking up are next to nothing." Rooster apologized for his outburst.

"It's okay man. I couldn't imagine being in your shoes right now." Hangman replied pulling him in for a hug.

Rooster did take their advice. He went home took a shower and tried to sleep. However ever time he closed his eyes he was back in the forest watching the life slip away from Delilah. He returned to the hospital a few hours later.

The next morning he sat in her room and talked to her until her until speaking overwhelmed him so, he began to sing her song... their song to her.

"Hey There Delilah what's it like in New York City..."

Pain. Pain was the first thing Delilah Mitchell felt once feeling returned to her body. It coursed through every part of her, but it seemed to find root for the most part in her head. She felt something warm and heavy in her hand. After a minute of thinking she was certainly it was another hand... but who's? She tried to grip it, but it was like her brain forgot how to tell her body to move.

Everything was dark around her. She rapidly blinked her eyes trying to open them. To let the light in. But they stayed closed. The next sense that returned to her was smell. She wasn't at home, the scent of sweet cinnamon, apple, and lemon didn't hang in the air. This was more clinical... more bleachy.

And then finally she heard it. Words...no...not works... lyrics... music... a song maybe? The melody seemed so far away at first but grew closer with each moment. She recognized the tune... it was her song... and Rooster... Bradley was singing it to her. His voice filled her ears.

She desperately tried to open her mouth to sing with him but nothing was working. She felt him lean down ans kiss her cheek. His lips were soft and warn. She had to let him know she was okay. He continued to sing the chorus of "Hey There Delilah" to her. She willed her eyes to open just a centimeter. Her lips parted ever so slightly "oh... it's... what.. you do... to... to me." She croaked out. Her voice was weak and her throat was dry.

Rooster's head snapped up at the sound. He was going crazy he thought. Hearing things for sure. But then her eyes fluttered. "Bradley" She whispered hoarsly. Delilah wasn't even sure if she was making a sound. Her eyes opened some more. Bright light flooded them and she closed them once again.

"Bradley." She tried again. This time Rooster knew he wasn't hearing things. "Delilah?" He whispered as a sob threatened to break free. "Delilah if you can hear me squeeze my hand.... please" Rooster pleaded with her the same thing he had been for weeks. But this time her delicate fingers wrapped around his in a feeble attempt to squeeze them.

"Oh my god!" Rooster jumped up from his seat, his hand still in hers. "Roos." He heard her say. "Hey there Delilah." He whispered stroking her head. She opened her eyes fully and blinked a few times. The colors and shapes of the world taking form before her face. "Hey there beautiful." Bradley said as the tears streaked down his face. "Hi." She replied trying to sit up.

"Hey, take it easy. You just came back to the land of the living. Let me get a nurse." He said to her sweetly. Delilah refused to let go of his hand. "Don't go." She rasped out. "I'll be right back. I promise." He stated as he kissed her head and left the room.

Once Rooster had informed the medical staff she was awake, he called Maverick and the rest of the team while the doctors and nurses tended to Delilah. Mav and Penny sped over to the hospital. After a few hours the trio were allowed to see her again. Delilah was sitting up now, clearly still in pain but she was pushing through.

The afternoon filled with conversations of them catching her up on what she missed, talks of therapy and Delilah wondering how long it would be before she got back in a plane. After several hours Maverick and Penny left their niece so she could spend some alone time with Rooster.

"How much do you remember?" Rooster asked her. "I remember you saying you still had my ring and that you still wanted to marry me. But if you only said that because you thought we were going to die, I won't hold you to it." Delilah told him with a hint of sorrow behind her voice.

"I meant every word of it." Rooster told her. "In fact...." he began as he pulled something out of his jacket pocket. "This was the first thing I got when I was cleared to leave. I went home and kept it with me so I had when you woke up." Rooster stated as he opened the ring box.

"Now this is by far not how I pictured proposing to you, but if the past three weeks have taught me anything, it's you have to take the chance when you have it. So here goes nothing....

Delilah Mitchell, I have loved you since we were ten years old. I didn't know what love was then, but I knew how I felt when you were around. You brought the sunshine, and I knew I never wanted that to end. We have seen each other at our lowest lows and built each other back up again, and we have been there to support one another at our highest highs. You never cease to both amaze and infuriate me, but it is all part of the reason I love you.

I promise I will spend the rest of the days I have on this planet showing you how much I love you. And now that I have you back, I am never letting you go.

Delilah, my love, will you marry me?" Bradley sat beside her. He didn't know why he was nervous because he knew her answer.

"Yes!" She squealed as tears ran down her face.

Rooster quickly slipped the ring on her finger and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips.

He pulled back and smiled at Delilah as she admired the ring. He would show her the inscription tomorrow. She let out a yawn. "I shouldn't be tired... I've been asleep for almost three weeks!" She croaned as her eyes became heavy.

Rooster chuckled at his fiancée and kissed her again. "Rest up baby. I will be here when you wake up." He told her.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Delilah's eyes closed as she drifted into a restful sleep while Bradley watched over her.

He wasn't sure what Heaven felt like, but after living in hell for the past few weeks, he knew this feeling he had sure must have been close.

Tag List: @bradleyrbradshaw @shanimallina87 @dreamingathighaltitude

#top gun maverick #top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #rooster x oc #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster smut #bradley bradshaw x oc

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izzy-b-hands · 4 years

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Not to continue on this point, but I'm going to, because I'm pissed and I have nowhere else to vent, and less than half an hour before I have to clock in and pretend I'm not absolutely torn up.

Like. On the point of pandemics and the anniversary of today. She should already know how I'm feeling A. Because this is the day of the year I force the straight ppl in my life to listen to my activist stuff. Where I tell them what they can do to help the HIV/AIDS crisis and let them know what work has been done over the years to make it something you can live with now, that there are wonderful medications, but that they need to be made available to all, as well as all other necessary treatment for those effected. I tell them the history of that time, how we lost so many, how there could maybe even be gay elders in this area still! That I could have met and know now! Had things not gone as they had due to...

Well. I will save that part of the rant because I'm hoping most of you know the history too. Have researched and learned and mourn those who are gone, those who were sick, and those who are gone who helped those who were sick. Know now that the work isn't over, because this still effects people in many places.

And B. I did also just flat out fucking tell her how I was feeling. So there's that.

And that she could at least give me a fucking break from hearing any of his bullshit today. I was open with her Sunday night about the suicidal ideation, right? One of the few times I have been.

She offered to sue my job if it would push me to suicide. Sweet, but maybe give me roses while I'm still here, if you care so fucking much.

But then I suppose that would mean caring for the causes that are close and important to my heart. Caring how in this current pandemic my doctors keep reminding me that while I'm not highest of all risk, I really should be home as much as often or at least have anyone who lives with me be incredibly mindful of helping me not get sick with anything, if we can help it (pointed fucking look to my mum who only likes to wash her hands if I ask her or if she sees me using my sleeves to touch what she has because seriously how fucking hard is it to wash your hands?!). Caring how I'm still fragile right now even though I am trying very hard, for my own sake and if I'm honest, for Freddie's, because if I could somehow I'd want to make him proud, as silly as that is, to be positive and to keep walking forward when quite frankly I am terrified that I'm just walking forward into worse, into a sinking swamp that will only drag me down while the people around me physically that claim to care watch me suffocate, then when I finally die (maybe I'll swan dive back into one of my addictions, maybe suicide, but I sure doubt it'll be anything else if things keep on as they have) ya know what they'll say?

We never saw it coming. He didn't seem that bad. We heard him stop breathing but surely we weren't expected to check on him.

My family has always been too busy for me, or relied on me to help them, and to presume I alone can help myself.

Well, I can't.

But, I'm going to take a deep breath, make sure my red ribbon and pin are on tight, up front and center today, because fuck them, I'm queer and I'm still here and I miss Freddie and everyone we lost, and I know they don't care abt queer issues, but they're going to have to today.

And I'm going to get through today. And mum can be upset as she wants that I've dared to have feelings abt her BF's nonsense, I'm going to ignore her and just politely remind her that I'm allowed to have my feelings.

And then tomorrow my poor therapist will hopefully be ready. It's gonna be a rough one.

#text post #tw suicidal ideation #tw suicide #if y'all want any more tw on this just let me know ok?#ive got to clock in here in a minute and my brain is screaming #but i tried to catch the big tws in this #i am...doing my best today

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fightxxmexxshiggy · 3 years

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HOT DAY AND A TIRED MAN

This fic is dedicated to @lovelyladyraven for being my first ever paid commission.

Shouta Aizawa x fem reader

Tw:dangerous situation, breeding, OVERSTIMULATION

Word count: 3.5k

This was not how you had planned to spend your day. Your boss had decided that the roof needed to be cleaned on the second hottest day this summer! Of course you were the only one who had just finished up their task so he sent you to do it by yourself with a promise of sending the next available person up to switch with you soon. Instead you had spent two hours cleaning up dirt and shining the vents on a roof that no one but maintenance workers ever set foot on! Once you had seen how much time had passed you went to the door with every intention of stomping down the stairs and clocking out, not willing to do overtime just to clean a roof. But the knob wouldn't turn no matter how hard you pulled. You banged on the door a few times only to realize that one of the idiots that you work with had locked the door. Quickly you took out your phone and called the store phone no answer, then your boss's phone no answer, then you called the two other coworkers who had been working with you today. Not a single person answered you! You went over to the side of the building that looked over the parking lot seeing that all their cars were already gone from their usual spots. The bastards had left for the day and left you locked on the roof with no way to go home or even get water. You tried for another 30 minutes to reach your boss and coworkers only for them to start rejecting your calls. They did this on purpose. You went and sat in the shade of the roof door access and took a few calming breaths. You knew that they weren't going to come back until tomorrow and you also knew that they probably expected you to sit up here and cry waiting till morning for them to come and "save" you. So instead you looked up the number for the local fire department. Once someone picked up you heard a deep gravelly voice through the speaker.

"Fire station 6 what can I help you with?"

The man seemed tired and kind of put out but instead of apologizing for bothering him like your brain was screaming at you to do, you cleared your throat and spoke. You gave him a detailed rundown of your situation and explained that you would have called the emergency line first except your boss's wife worked the police directory and if he was locking you on the roof like this you were afraid that his wife would just not send anyone to help you. It was a small town and things like that were constantly looked over as long as you knew the right people. He hummed in agreement.

" That's sad but true. I know your boss and his wife well enough that you're probably 100 percent right about what they would do and how they would cover this up. They've done it before. Me and a few guys will be there in about 20 minutes to come get you down. Just keep calm and do your best to stay out of the sun until then we don't need you getting any more dehydrated than you already are."

He gave a quick goodbye and hung up. You breathed a sigh of relief knowing that you had chosen correctly when you called the fire station. You sat in the shade and tried to put a face to the voice of the tired firefighter who would be coming to free you from your rooftop prison. Like a fool you had never asked his name. As you thought about it you started to get a bit lightheaded. It had definitely been too long since you had any water. The heat was starting to get to you now that your adrenaline had stopped pumping so hard. With nothing else to do you layed down as much in the shade as you could and did a breathing exercise. During your exercise you must have blacked out because the next thing you knew you were being carried down the stairs in a set of strong arms.

The person carrying you was speaking to you but you couldn't make out what they were saying over the fog that was covering your brain. You knew the sound of that voice though. It was the tired firefighter but he sounded a whole lot less tired and a whole lot more angry. You really hoped he wasn't angry at you. Maybe you were too heavy and he was annoyed at having to lug you down the stairs. With a weak hand you reached up maybe to apologize somehow, but ended up cupping his cheek. His stubble felt funny in your already funny feeling hand. He stopped walking at the feeling of your hand on his face. You still couldn't open your eyes so instead you mumbled a garbled sorry and proceeded to pass back out going limp. The last thing you heard was the tired firefighter yelling at someone, maybe you?

You woke up again this time to the feeling of something plastic on your face. Opening your eyes was still a bit too much for you so you listened and tried to figure out what was going on. You vaguely remember the tired voice you had spoken to before you felt light headed and the feeling of being carried. As you listened you could make out the sounds of machines. Slowly you took stock of your body. You were sore and kinda warm but you could move a little bit. You breathed deeply, finally realizing that the plastic was an oxygen tube. You were definitely in the hospital then. After a few more minutes your eyes were in good enough condition that you opened them to look around the room. When you did you saw someone slumped in the chair in the corner. This was incredibly strange since you had no family in this town. Doing your best you cleared your throat preparing to ask who they were. At your sound the person's head shot up, eyes wide.

It was a man with tired eyes and long black hair that was on the scruffy side; it easily matched the stubble of a beard on his chin and cheeks. He stood up definitely tall enough to tower over you even when you were standing up yourself. The man walked to your bedside and took a deep breath before speaking.

"It's good to see you awake little one. I was beginning to think you weren't going to wake up. I'm the firefighter you spoke to asking for help when you were on the roof. I have a lot to explain to you but I'm gonna call the doctor in and have them look you over before anything else."

He called out into the hall after that and a doctor and a nurse bustled into the room within minutes. Your throat was too dry to answer their questions so you stuck to little nods and head shakes as they began to check your vitals and adjust your iv drip. Once they were sure you were stable enough you were once again left with your savior and no voice to thank him with. He came closer and pulled the chair along with him to settle in for your conversation.

"So you've been out of it for about 3 days. You got sunstroke while you were on the roof and your boss had double locked the door to get in and the door to the roof which slowed us down in getting to you. Your boss and his wife and your 2 coworkers have all been arrested. It was your boss's idea though apparently he kept hitting on you but you didn't give him the time of day so he wanted to teach you a lesson. His wife had your name flagged so that if you had called for help it would have given a dispatcher a notification to ignore you as a false reporter. His wife found out about his interest in you and was planning on making sure you were stuck on that roof all night. Your coworkers just went along with it because they didn't want to deal with your boss's anger."

Hearing all this pissed you off beyond belief. They could have killed you all because you would be a man's mistress and the man's wife would rather hurt someone than confront her husband. He looked at your face and patted your knee knowing there was nothing he could say that would make you feel any better about this. You looked up at him and grabbed his hand and brought it to your forehead, touching his knuckles there before placing a kiss on them. You were kind of happy that you couldn't really talk just yet because the blush on this man's cheeks was well worth the dry throat. He poured you a cup of water and handed it to you. You gave him a small smile and drank it gratefully.

Eventually you could speak some and the two of you formally introduced yourselves. He was Shouta Aizawa, the fire station chief and local fire safety instructor for this area. He hadn't felt right leaving you alone after he had gotten you off the roof and found that you lived alone in this town. He came off very blunt and serious but you could see his deep kindness in his actions. The doctors came back in, cutting your conversation short and making Shouta go back to his spot in the corner. After a few more checks the doctors cleared you to go home the following day as long as you had someone to watch over you for the next three days till your follow up appointment was. You frowned cause you did have any close friends who could do that for you. As you pondered over it you heard Shouta's voice over the doctor's.

"If you don't have a problem I can have you stay over in the guestroom at my house. I was already on a temp leave due to watching over you here so it wouldn't be much different with you at my house."

This man with a deep whiskey voice truly had a heart of gold. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth you readily agreed. After you had been up a few more hours and had a little bit to eat, Shouta left with the promise of a freshly cleaned room waiting for you tomorrow. You fell asleep that night feeling more cared for than you ever truly had. You woke up again slightly disoriented and thirsty but in much better condition than you had been the day prior. It was early so you took your time shaking the numbness out of your limbs and getting back your bearings. The nurse came in fussing about you standing with calling anyone to be a catcher for you. She stopped fussing though when she realized that you were indeed stable enough to walk to the bathroom alone.

Shouta had called the nurses station around 10 to let them know he'd be there by 12. With a few puppy dog looks you had a shower chair and an orderly who helped wash your hair and walk you back to bed. They had given you some hospital pajamas that you happily wore instead of the ugly gowns you had woken up in. You were clean and relaxed by the time Shouta had arrived to sign you out of the hospital. A nurse came around with a wheelchair and wheeled you down to the exit while the car was brought around. Shouta opened the door for the backseat but instead of giving you a hand to climb in he leaned down and scooped you out of the chair. Once you had been sat comfortably on the seat he shut the door leaving you with a moment to appreciate just how strong his arms were.

The drive to Shouta's home was relatively quick as is the way of small towns. His house was nice and seemed to be a cozy ranch style. After pulling into the garage you tried to get out yourself only to be caught up against a hard chest as your legs gave out the moment they were made to take your full weight. You looked up to see an exasperated glare. Part of your brain filled with chastised thoughts as the other filled with dirty thoughts. You really had to be better behaved when It came to your savior and benefactor but with him being so sinfully attractive it was kinda hard to do. Once again you were carried by the tired man this time into his home and deposited on the lone couch in his living room. He sat on his coffee table and faced you with a sigh.

"You're really gonna have to rely on me for a few days brat. Your body is trying to heal and you pushing it as you just did isn't doing the process any favors."

You sighed and agreed with him. After a short conversation about a few things you might need from the store and checking about any food allergies he got ready and headed to the store. You sat alone watching tv before clicking into his YouTube app to see what he watched most. A loud laugh burst from your chest as you realized that most of his watch history was full of cat videos and a few interviews with a local late night radio host. You watched the radio hosts videos thoroughly entertained by his boisterous personality. The next thing you knew you were being shaken awake by Shouta having fallen asleep with videos still playing on the tv. He helped you up and walked you to the bathroom and waited outside before scooping you up yet again. He was making it so damn hard not to think dirty thoughts when he kept carrying you around as if you were a small animal or something. Like sir the butterflies are in the stomach now but they will quickly fly south if you keep being so quietly sexy. A few hours later you were lying in bed when your thoughts finally got the best of you and had you touching your pussy as images of Shouta glaring down at you with his arms crossed showed behind your eyelids.

You had no idea how loud you were being as you rubbed your clit harshly, trying to get to the finish line. As you came you choked out his name. While you panted and came down from your high Shouta made his way back to his room quietly. He leaned back against his door and made a call before laying in his bed to jerk his very hard, very neglected cock. His brain kept replaying the sounds you made, the way you choked out his name as you came, how a satisfied little smile curled on your lips after you reached the finish line. He came with a growl, satisfied but not. He was definitely going to end up in trouble by the end of the week and he couldn't find it in himself to care. The following two days followed the same pattern, spending the day together and spending the night getting off to thoughts of the other in separate rooms. Though you were surprised to find that Shouta regularly walked around the house in nothing but sweatpants holding a full mug of coffee. On the fourth day you had become well enough to no longer need to be carried or walked everywhere. You were a little confused by Shouta's attitude as he had been glaring at the space above your head for most of the day. Finally tired of him doing this, you confronted him about it. You were not expecting his answer in the slightest.

"I've spent the last three nights hearing you play with your pussy while calling my name, I'm hard enough to hammer nails and I can't get out any over this energy cause I'm supposed to be watching out for you. All I wanna do is fuck you till you lose your mind. me glaring above your head has been me doing my best not to seduce you like an asshole."

He said everything in such a deadpan manner that you couldn't help but laugh. Once you caught your breath you grinned at him and pulled your shirt off over your head. Sitting on his couch with your tits hanging free and your nipples hardening in the cool air you proceeded to play with them. You were immediately picked up and taken to his room before being dropped on the bed. Never let it be said that the tired man couldn't move fast as you were stripped of your remaining clothes before he stripped himself bare. He pulled you to the edge of his bed by your ankles and dropped to his knees, a fierce smile on his lips.

"Been wanting to taste this bratty pussy for days. Bet it's as sweet as it looks."

His first lick was long. From your hole all the way over your clit. The squeak you let out at the feeling only made him more hungry. He spent what felt like an endless amount of time licking and thrusting his tongue as deep into your pussy as he could. By the time he finally gave your clit some much needed attention his chin was covered in pussy juice and your hole was fluttering as if it was seeking to be filled. Shouta teased you with a few small licks over your clit, making you whine and beg him to give you more. His arms wrapped around your thighs as he locked eyes with you and sucked your clit into his mouth. He sucked hard making you scream and thrash wildly. Your hands were buried in his hair as you squirted into his mouth. Your hips only stayed on the bed because of his strong arms keeping you in place. When he finally released your clit pussy juice was steadily leaking from your still twitching hole.

"Oh did I break you already? You were so bold before and now you're just a mess. Think you can take my cock or do you want me to tuck you in for a nap."

The shit eating grin on his face was enough for you to pull his hair and glare at him. He sat up and shoved your wrists above your head to hold in one of his large hands. Slowly he worked his fat dripping cock into your almost too tight pussy. You whined and moaned his name as he finally bottomed out hitting your back wall. He stretched you more than you ever had been before but it was so damn good. Shouta started slow, one hand gripping your thigh as he ignored your demands for him to speed up.

"You're gonna take what I give you like a good girl or I'll just pull out and cum all over you right now."

That shut you up except for the constant stream of moans that left your throat. Just as you were finally getting used to being split by such a thick cock he changed his rhythm. Fast pounding thrusts that knocked the breath from your lungs were nearly constant. You didn't have enough breath to scream so you sobbed. Your half words were incoherent except for "sho please." Shouta leaned down and whispered in your ear as his thrusts once again spread up. He bit your ear lobe before making you lose your mind.

"Such a tight little hole. I can't believe I had the strength to ignore it for three days. I could have at least eaten it while you laid back and rested. God I'm gonna have you for breakfast tomorrow."

The utter heat in his words threw you over the edge making you cum so hard you began to shake. He growled as your pussy clenched down on him. Shouta sunk his teeth into the pillow by your head before shoving his cock against your cervix and shooting his cum against it. As soon as he finished cuming he started to thrust again. No slow start this time, just hard pounding thrusts that made you wail in pleasure. It didn't take long for you to cum again but Shouta lasted longer this time entirely fucking his cum out of you before finally cuming inside again just as deep as the first time.

He pulled out and laid down next to you before pulling you on to his chest. You both panted trying to breathe like normal human beings again. Right as your breathing evened out you heard a voice from the doorway. And looked up to see the blonde radio host trailing his eyes over the two of you.

"I told you you wouldn't make it till I got home sho."

#bnha simping hours #bnha smut #mha smut #aizawa shouta #aizawa fanfiction #aizawa x reader #aizawa smut #firefighter aizawa

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sunflowerheartsandstarryskies · 3 years

Text

My Golden Curse - Maxwell Lord x Fem!Reader

Author’s Note: Hello again, I may have stumbled upon the Pedro Pascal fandom and I can’t get out, and I saw someone posted that they wanted an imagine with Maxwell Lord and the reader in which one of them gets kidnapped and the other just goes ballistic, and I basically kept getting that idea stuck in my head, this was only supposed to be a drabble but oh well. This depiction of Maxwell Lord is closer to the DC Comics version of him and not the movie but it has Pascal’s Lord’s likeness, so it’s like a combination of the two.

Also, I have survived my finals and had taken a break from writing for a while but I’m back and I have some ideas for my Lucifer multi-chapter fic as well. I also have an idea for a John Wick fic but I have no idea if anyone wants to read that.

Warnings: Typical comic-book violence, cursing (like two curse words), blood mentioned, kidnapping, bruises and injuries (like ribs breaking, a concussion, and a few lacerations

______________________________________________________________

Maxwell Lord IV prided himself on presentation. Everything had to be pristine and everything, even the garbage can by his desk had to be impeccable, because his business and himself in general, are put out on display for the public. He is a figurehead and a showman, so when you came along to be his assistant and secretary he was at first apprehensive because you didn’t dress as provocatively as he may have like and you didn’t look as model-esque as his other secretaries in the past. You didn’t apply to Chimtech to be fucked by your boss, you were good at your job and you aspire to show off your skills.

However, time went on when you first started to work for Maxwell Lord and you did a phenomenal job, whenever he was in a meeting you would always make sure to listen and take notes of what he needed while he was in the meeting. Whenever he requested for you to fax an item you would’ve made sure to have done it five minutes prior. Maxwell had no idea how you could be so efficient at your job, but he damn well appreciates it even if he rarely ever mentions it to you.

It’s an odd relationship that you guys have worked yourself in, a friendly relationship it seems, but both of you are teetering on the edge of wanting more. There have been teasing nicknames, mostly from you, you had a plethora of nicknames that you would give him, ranging from “Sandy” to “Ken”, but “Golden boy” was your favorite.

You would never admit this to him or even to yourself but you actually liked his blonde locks. In certain lightings, when you look at him you swear he was Midas, covered in his own golden curse. It was breathtaking to watch him at some points, but you always try to cover up your flustered state.

You knew Maxwell well, some may say too well for a secretary, but you rarely saw the side of him that most of his competitors and fellow businessmen saw, and that was the merciless and ruthless side to his tactics on getting what he wanted. Everyone in the public eye saw him as just the “King of Infomercials” but there was a reason why and how he got that title in the first place. Who knew the infomercial world could be so cruel and hectic?

You were able to catch glimpses of Maxwell’s amazing abilities of persuasion and showmanship, he was able to get people to admit to what they want and get them to go out and seize, whether that was good or bad. There was a particular talent that you find out he has and it was his ability to drag out people’s hidden desires, there were times when the people he used this talent were a shock as the people around them when they admitted to what they really wanted.

He was a golden idol of his own creation; he had to be especially to the people around him. However, that golden facade can only keep him held up for so long when the people he handed gold to realize that it’s fool’s gold.

______________________________________________________________

It was earlier in the day, you just woke up and got dressed in your office attire with a cup of coffee in hand as you try to will yourself to get going. You looked up at your apartment’s clock and it was 7:00 am, you needed to get going if you were to make it to Chimtech in time.

As you stepped out of your apartment building you felt a gloved hand over your mouth and panic flooding your whole body, but before your body could even fully process a flight or fight response you felt a sharp pain in your neck and you passed out.

When you come to, your vision is blurred and you can’t understand where you are and your brain just has confusion filling your senses. Why can’t you process what is around you? What happened to you? After a couple of more seconds went by you felt a rope tightly woven around your wrists, and you comprehended that you were sitting on a floor. What happened to you?

“Ah, there’s the little doll’s eyes! I was wondering if you were beginning to ever wake up,” a voice filled your ears. You blinked furiously trying to get your eyes to focus and you found yourself face to face with a man, who was grinning at you like a shark finding the prey they smelled a mile away.

“I’m sure you understand why you’re here? I don’t need to monologue it to you, do I?” the man asks.

“Mr. Vince, right? You were in a meeting with my boss Maxwell Lord, a month ago, right?” you questioned him as the drug and weariness started to seep out of you, and you gained more awareness of your surroundings. The man, Mr. Vince was a part-owner of a tech company that Chimtech was interested in making an investment in, however from what you were aware of was that the true goal of the meetings with Vince and his company was to absorb it into Chimtech, forcing Vince and the other owners to give up their powers over to Maxwell Lord and the other board members of Chimtech.

“I see the drugs didn’t impair your memory, I assume you are aware that I am no longer a CEO? That I was tricked by your goddamned boss?! That he put me in a corner to give up my company over to him!” he screamed. He was half an inch from your face and you were terrified of this man, he was unhinged.

“What does this have to do with me, Mr.Vince?” you asked, forcing yourself to not push him over the edge.

“Ooooh this has everything to do with your boss, I remembered that you are his secretary, so you must know some secret of his, something I can leverage against him to make him give me my company back,” he said.

“Even if I have any sort of information to give you, the damage is already done, your company is done in, it’s already been processed into Chimtech, there is none of your company left.”

That was the wrong thing to say as you felt a kick to your stomach. You groaned and rolled onto your side, and before you could recover from that there was another swift kick that you felt go directly to your ribs.

______________________________________________________________

Minutes blended into hours of constant yelling from Vince to him pulling you off the ground to throwing you back down like you were a piece of litter to being his personal punching bag. It was all you could do to just protect yourself and persevere through the pain because you were just a secretary, you were never trained in self-defense, hell you never even did track in high school.

Through the pain, you felt complete distortion and a high pitch whining going through your head, and you finally realized it was a telephone- a landline. Where the hell did this guy get a landline in this beat-up place?

Then, you hear Vince say, “Oh you want to hear how (Y/N) is?” you hear footsteps coming towards you then cold plastic was pressed to your cheek then Vince continued loudly, “Well here she is, talk.”

“(Y/N)?” You heard Maxwell, your golden boy, say your name and all you can do was say his name back in a raspy voice.

“What did he do to you?” Maxwell asked.

Before you could say any more the phone was taken away from you and Vince’s voice filled your ears.

“Tick tock Maxwell, I want my money and you can get your fuck toy back.”

Then silence, a sickening silence filled the room which made you feel every ache and pain that has been put on your body has made itself known by increasing levels of agony. You didn’t even feel it in you to even try to correct Vince’s words about you. You just wanted to sleep and not wake up for a whole day, maybe if you laid perfectly still and just not move a muscle the pain would go away.

As you lay there you tearily open your eyes back up and you can hear the tinny sounds of the echoing footsteps of your captor pacing back and forth in the room you were held in. It was nauseating, and you were confused as you thought, When did you close your eyes? How long were you out?

Then you fell back into your head, and you felt like you were spiraling in your own mind mixed with dizziness and nausea. You just wanted this to end.

A male voice was shouting so close to you and you can feel the panic coming out of his voice, and you can tell it wasn’t Vince because why would he do that?

You felt yourself being lifted from the ground and all you could do was cough sporadically from the new movements on your injuries. It hurt, it hurt so bad.

“I know (Y/N), but you just need to keep going a little bit longer,” the same voice told you.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint where you heard that voice before but you thought it was your boss, Maxwell Lord, but it couldn’t be. That would be the last thought that went through your mind before you lost it to the void.

All you can see at first was just bright and it hurt so bad. When you turned your head you saw a flash of gold and your first thought was, ‘Maxwell’. When your eyes adjusted to the room around you it really was your boss, Maxwell Lord in the hospital with you. He was slumped down in a chair beside your bed and you saw there were roses in a vase on the table next to you.

“Gold-golden boy, hey,” you rasped out trying to wake him. You coughed and then groaned as you felt the lacerations and bandages around your torso.

You saw him stir in the chair and his eyes opened and landed on yours. “Hey boss,” you whispered cringing at your voice. Your hands clenched at the sheets around you as you saw him blink furiously and stood up fast. You flinched at the fast movement but he didn’t seem to notice, as he moved closer to you.

“I am sorry about what happened to you, I didn’t think that our clients would go so far as to do this to you. I can’t believe that bastard did all of this to you-”

“It’s okay, I mean it hurts like a bitch but you ended up finding me didn’t you? What happened to him anyway?” you cut him off.

“Ah well, I may have gotten violent with him before the law enforcement could get him,” he said twisting his hands around and that’s when you saw the scrapes on his knuckles.

“I don’t know if you were a white knight to me but you certainly are a golden devil for doing that,” you replied.

He huffed out a laugh at your reply and he opened his mouth to say something but got interrupted when a nurse arrived.

______________________________________________________________

After the nurse left, you found out you still have a concussion lingering still, three bruised ribs and lacerations across your whole torso and arms.

When he listened to the whole list of injuries that you had gotten in the three days that you were with Mr. Vince, he felt rage boil over him but he tried to keep calm as he remembered the battered state he left Vince in. At least he made him feel some of the pain that he made you go through, Maxwell was a very prideful man in how he acts so for him to act like that was completely out of character for him.

He must be looking worried because he noticed your furrowed brows and you glancing at him every so often.

“Did you want to say something?” he asked

“Well, I was gonna ask you a similar question because I think you were interrupted by the nurse. Also are you okay?”

Your question startled him and the mention of the interruption made him clear his throat and fidget with his suit to try to hide the blush that was threatening to come up to his face. Your inquisitive expression on your face was watching him.

“I’ve been thinking that if you would like to leave the company, I won’t force you to stay, especially with what happened this week,” he said.

Listening to him say this made you panic and as you tried to sit up, Maxwell came up to you quickly as he says, “What do you think you’re doing? You got to take it easy.”

As you are situated in your bed you went to reach for Maxwell’s hand as you say, “Why would I want to quit? I love my job and I love working with you even if at times I don’t seem like it. None of what happened to me was your fault, how could you have known that Vince would react to the merger the way that he did.”

Maxwell was startled by this, he never had anyone in his family nor his company is so willing to stay with him especially when they are given an out.

He bowed his head toward you and said, “If you keep saying things like that I might want to keep you by my side for a long time.”

You laughed as you replied, “If you let me I will, you are a weird but kind man-” you stopped yourself as a thought came to your head.

“How long have you been here? What about Chimtech?”

“Ah well if my secretary didn’t get kidnapped and injured I wouldn’t be here right now, but you made me worried and how can I do my best work without my best assistant around me?”

“Now you’re just flattering me”

“But it’s true”

“Hmmm if you say so, Sandy”

______________________________________________________________

Four days have gone by and you were finally released from the hospital to go back to your apartment. You tried to go back to work at Chimtech, but Maxwell found you were released and gave you the rest of the week off to recover. You would become the envy of the company at this rate with how well the boss has been treating you.

Now that you have been just lounging in your apartment watching TV movies, and eating takeout for meals it has given you time to properly understand what happened to you for the past two weeks.

The way your boss, Maxwell, has been treating you made you see a whole new side of him. At first, you thought of working for him as both a blessing and a curse. At first, it was hell on earth, you ran yourself ragged making sure everything was up to par with Maxwell’s standards but after the next three years working with the man you considered him a friend of sorts. Even though you always tried to make sure to never consider employers and colleagues be separate from your personal life but it’s hard to do that when all you have is your work life.

Ever since the kidnapping incident, Maxwell had visited you every day in the hospital he even gave you flowers on the last day of your hospital visit, it was a beautiful vase of sunflowers.

You didn’t realize how long you were sitting on your couch thinking about your boss when you heard a knock on your door. You looked at the clock near your tv and realized it was nearly midnight.

‘Who could come by to my apartment at this hour?’ you thought.

You got up carefully minding the bruises still littering your body, and you opened the door surprised to see Maxwell.

His hair was a bit disheveled and he didn’t have a suit jacket on showing off the suspenders he likes to wear. He looked quite cute seeing him like this.

“Come in, Mr. Lord. What brings you to my place this late at night?” you inquired.

He ran his hand through his hair as he entered your apartment and he turns to look at you as you closed the door.

He sighed as he said, “I don’t know how quite to put this without sounding terrible, but after what happened to you, I can’t stop thinking about you. You are the best woman-the best person I’ve known and for you to still want to work with me after everything that has happened.”

He looked like he was getting frustrated with himself, you were shocked because how could you have gotten the king of infomercials to be so frustrated with his own words?

You took a tentative step forward to him as you placed a hand on his arm.

“Sandy, what’s going on?”

He was silent for a moment before he looked into your eyes with a strong determination as he says, “You know more about me than my own mother does, and after all this time together I’ve grown to respect you more and more. When I saw you in that hospital I wanted to kill the bastard and send him to hell when I found you like that in the warehouse.”

“I-I don’t know what to say, Mr. Lord-”

“Call me Maxwell, none of your silly names, not boss, not my last name, just Maxwell”

You could tell he was earnest with this and sincere it took your breath away to see him like this. He was beautiful and it made your heart flutter when you realize what he might be trying to confess to you.

“Maxwell” you breathed out testing his name out. You said his name once before and that was when you had gotten kidnapped but now this is completely different, almost like a prayer. A prayer to this golden devil of yours.

He smiled when he heard you say his name and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“I wish I could kiss all the scars away from your body so you never have to live with them again. I wish that I could be yours, fully and I want to be clear that I would never use you like I may have done to my secretaries in the past. I want to be yours, in any way you may want me.”

“Oh Maxwell, I think I might have to grant your wish this time,” you say blinking away tears that were threatening to spill as you were listening to his confession.

“(Y/N)” he whispered reverently.

He cradled your face with both hands as he studied your face to see any resistance than he gently placed his lips on yours.

You made a small gasp as you finally felt his lips on yours, you clutched onto his shirt as you pulled him closer to you. He tilted his head and pushed your chin up to meet in for a deeper kiss. It felt amazing and you felt loved.

When you parted you were chasing each other’s lips to crash back into each other as you kissed each other until you both need a break. Both of your lips were swollen and you looked at him with such love that when Maxwell saw, he almost wanted to take you then and there but he was mindful of how fragile this love could be.

Author’s Note: I might do a second part if people want it but whew this took a lot out of me, I hope you guys like it!

#maxwell lord x reader #pedro pascal x reader #Pedro Pascal #maxwell lord #imagines #x reader #wonder woman 1984 #max lord x reader

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ttylfedora · 3 years

Text

The Rookiest Rookie that ever Rookied- Part Two

Oh god I feel so bad for Cole!!

Characters belong to the completely wonderful @lumosinlove

Cw, food

Enjoy!! 💚

“Right, mon fils, you remember the plan?” Pascal had sat Louis and Marc down at the dining room table and had his serious dad face on. The boys knew this face meant business and sat up straighter, as though they were in a proper business meeting.

“Oui, papa.” Louis answered. Marc nodded in agreement, both of them determined not to let their father down. After all, this was the difference between whether or not they could go out for ice cream at the weekend. All of the shots were riding on this!

“Repeat it back to me.” Dumo instructed.

“Which part?” Marc questioned, still getting his little brain around all of the instructions his father had given him.

“All of it, this is serious business. The two of you are embarking on a journey that can only be ruled as the greatest journey known to man. You two have a legacy to fill, mon fils, a legacy!” Dumo exclaimed dramatically, his arms out as though he was introducing a show on the West End.

“Ce n'est pas si dramatique, papa.” Louis rolled his eyes, and his father gasped.

“Say that again and you are grounded.” Pascal locked his eyes on Louis’. The famous Dumais pranks were a serious business and should be treated as such.

“There is a lot riding on this,” Dumo reasoned, “do you want ice cream or not?”

“I guess.” Louis huffed. “Alright, so we only answer to each other’s names.”

“Make sure all the clocks show a different time.” Marc continued “Can you help us get the higher clocks?” he asked his dad. Dumo nodded.

“Make sure the robot spider is under the couch.” Louis chimed in.

“Ask him where babies come from.” Marc giggled. “Where do they come from papa?” he asked curiously.

“Non, non, ask Cole. He’ll tell you.” Dumo wiggled his finger in front of his younger son's face.

“Okay, okay.”

“Parfait, right, he’ll be back in,” he checked his watch,”half an hour from hanging out with Leo. Let’s get this started, shall we mes fils?” Dumo rubbed his hands together and giggled, leading his children into the kitchen to get started on the clocks.

“Right, we shouldn’t be gone for long but if anything goes wrong, just call us straight away. We’ll be back by dinner time.” Celeste fussed. Her husband was already out in the car with Adele and Katie, ready to take them both to basketball practice.

“I will, promise.” Cole smiled. It was the first time they trusted him to look after any of their kids so he can understand why they were airing on the side of caution. “We’ll have lots of fun.” He smiled over to the two boys who were currently sat watching something on the television. Celeste thanked him again and left, shutting the door softly behind her.

Babysitting was a piece of cake. He could do this.

“Right boys, what’s the plan for today.” He clapped his hands and rubbed them together, sitting down on the couch that was adjacent to the two brothers. Marc’s eyes lit up.

“Can we make a cake?” he asked, practically jumping up from his spot on the couch.

“We certainly can, what flavour?”

Marc thought for a moment. “Chocolate.” he smiled.

“Sounds good to me, buddy, lead the way.” He reached over and grabbed the remote off of the coffee table in the centre of the room and switched the television off, following them into the kitchen.

“Right, let me see what we have here,” Cole started, going through all of the cupboards to round up the ingredients for the cake.

“Louis, can you grab me the eggs please.” He said over his shoulder as he went to retrieve the milk and butter from the fridge.

“No, no, no, Marc wait-“ Cole was cut off by the eggs Marc was attempting to hold in one hand dropping to the floor and smashing everywhere. He froze with his arms out mid step, and just sighed, laughing slightly. “Oh dear.” Marc looked up at him.

“Sorry Cole.”

“It’s okay buddy, how about you go and change your trousers and socks so that you’re not walking around all day with egg on them and we’ll throw them in the wash. It’s no big deal.” he smiled, grabbing a wet paper towel to start to clean the egg yolk off of the floor. Marc nodded and ran to his room. As he cleaned up, Louis gathered all of the ingredients onto the side, and grabbed more eggs from the basket.

By the time the floor was clean, Marc had come back down in a fresh pair of jeans and socks and popped his dirty ones into the washing machine for his mother to deal with later.

“Perfect, right, Marc, you’re in charge of weighing things, okay?” He looked at Marc but Louis nodded, sitting up on the bar stool in front of the weighing scales.

“Okay.” Louis smiled. Cole widened his eyes slightly but shook it off. Maybe he misspoke?

“Marc, you’re going to help me mix everything up, okay?”

“But I thought I was weighing the ingredients?” Louis asked, confused.

“Yeah, I was talking to your brother?” Cole said, though it came out more of a question. He placed his hand on his hip and scratched his head.

The boys just shrug and carry on anyway, allowing Cole to guide them through the recipe, one his mother swears by back at home. He was hoping it lived up to Celeste’s baking but he doubted his skills were that good. It was the least he could offer her for all the amazing meals she had cooked for him so far. She insisted that it was nothing but when one is so far away from home, having another mother cook a full homemade meal brought immense amounts of comfort to him.

They carried on working around each other, occasionally turning up the radio when a good song comes on, laughing and throwing flour and sugar over each other. Cole was an only child, but if he wasn’t, this is how he would want to spend his weekends with them. He supposed he wasn’t any more; his chosen family adding to the numbers ten-fold and he was beyond grateful for it.

Once all of the ingredients had been mixed, he asked Louis, well who he was sure was Louis, to help him pour the cake mix into the cake moulds. He started doubting himself as Marc, well who he was sure was Marc, came to help him. Once he had placed the moulds into the oven, which he noted had the wrong time displayed, he sent the kids through to the sitting room as he set the timer on his phone. His thumb hovered over the message app icon, wondering whether or not admitting defeat was wise. He quickly changed his mind as he thought up a better idea, opened the app and clocked on Leo’s name instead.

‘Hey man, I have a really embarrassing question but you CANNOT tell Dumo, okay?’

‘Oh god, this is gonna be good.’

‘Leo, PROMISE ME.’

‘Jeez man, okay, i promise!!’

‘Which of Dumo’s boys are older? Louis or Marc? Because i think ive been calling them by the wrong names.’

‘OH MY GOD HAHAHAHAHAHA COLE!!!!!!!!! PLEASE TELL ME YOURE JOKING’

‘Leo…’

‘Oh my god you arent joking.’

‘Please?’

‘Marc is the older one. Oh my god that is actually hilarious. Logan’s wetting himself.’

‘I’m never hearing the end of this.’

Cole put his phone away in his pocket, feeling incredibly embarrassed. Had he been calling these kids by the wrong name for the past month? It would seem so. He filled himself a glass of water and walked into the sitting room, sitting down on the couch next to Marc, no, Louis, the younger one.

“How long until the cake’s ready?” the older one asked.

“About twenty minutes now buddy. What are we watching?” he asked, gesturing to the television.

“Minecraft videos,” the youngest answered, smiling. Cole shook his head, clearly realising he had lost his touch with kids. Wasn’t Minecraft big, what, four years ago now? He pulled his phone out of his pocket and started aimlessly scrolling through Instagram, liking and commenting on a few of the posts until the youngest sibling piped up again.

“Cole?” he asked, an inquisitive look on his face.

“Mhm?” Cole replied, taking a sip of his water.

“Where do babies come from?”

Cole promptly spat his water back out looking at the youngest with wide eyes, stuttering slightly in shock. How was he meant to answer that?!

“I- well- have you not asked your dad this?” he stuttered, this was not what he expected to be answering today, to a nine year old nonetheless.

“Non, I just thought of it” the younger one shook his head.

“Oh, well, I mean, when two adults want to have a baby, they do a special hug, I guess?” Cole replied cautiously.

“So maman, and papa did a special hug for me, Louis, Katie and Adele?”

Cole just stared at him, mouth trying and failing to come up with a response to that. The last thing he even wanted to think about was Dumo’s sex life, no matter how many times the Lions’ sex lives were brought up in the locker room.

Thankfully, the timer for the cake went off, giving him the perfect excuse to exit the conversation. He set the cake on the side to cool, making a start on the icing. The boys decided to stay in the sitting room, engrossed in the video they were watching. He glanced up at the clock on the wall. Surely it wasn’t still early afternoon? He checked the time on the oven and it matched, as did the one on the radio, and the fridge, and everything else in the kitchen apart from his phone.

“Boys, what time is it?” he shouted through to them.

“The tv says it’s 3pm!” Marc, Louis, the older one shouted back. He ran his hands over his face and checked his phone, noting that the time read ‘17:30’. He just rested his head in his hands with his elbows against the counter; he evidently did not get enough sleep last night. He quickly decorated the cake to return his thought process to something concrete and set it aside, joining the boys in front of the television quickly after.

He couldn’t have been sat down for more than five minutes when the biggest fuck off spider he had ever seen crawled out from under the couch, right next to his foot. Like any normal, self-respecting 19 year old man, he screamed and jumped up onto the couch.

Both boys were in hysterics.

“Cole, we got you so good!” The younger of the two was currently beside himself on the other couch, tears streaming from his eyes as he held up a little remote; evidently the remote for the spider.

“You two are taking after your father it seems.” Cole laughed nervously. He was well aware of the notorious Pascal Dumais prank streak and it seemed. They pressed play on the tv until Celeste, Dumo, Adele and Katie came home. He was grateful only in the sense that he was completely and utterly exhausted from today.

“Aaahhhh, you boys made a cake!” Celeste mused, walking into the kitchen to have a look at it, “it will be perfect for after dinner.”

“Did you have a good day, mes garçons?” he asked. Both boys nodded, understanding that their father was asking if they did everything he asked of them.

“It seems your boys take after you, Dumo. Got me pretty good with a spider under the couch there.” Cole laughed from his position on the couch.

Dumo let out one of the biggest dad laughs known to man. “Incroyable! I’m proud of you both!” Both of his sons looked at him and began laughing with him, but followed their mother and sisters into the kitchen.

“I hope they weren’t too much trouble?” Dumo asked, hanging his coat up and turning to Cole.

“No, not at all. It was a fun day, a long day but a fun one. Really set me through my paces there. For a hot second i thought it was one of your tasks.” he laughed as he stood up.

Dumo froze.

“My children are a task to you?” he looked Cole straight in the eyes and cocked an eyebrow. Cole stared at him wide eyed and started stuttering, attempting to form and answer. Pascal laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m only joking, kid. You should have seen your face!”

“Haha, yeah, I’m just going to run to the toilet real quick and I’ll join you for dinner. Won’t be long!” He left, looking quite flustered as PAscal made his way into the kitchen. His wife was leant against the counter with her arms crossed and a slightly amused expression on her face.

“You are a cruel man, mon roi. A cruel cruel man.” she shook her head and turned back around as she continued to prepare dinner.

He stalked over and placed a kiss on her head.

“It’s called character building, ma reine.” he smiled. “And I am nowhere near done just yet.”

#coast to coast lumosinlove #sweater weather lumosinlove #lumosinlove #pascal dumais #Pascal Dumais Prank Series #Cole Reyes

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marauder-exe · 4 years

Text

Sweater- Remus Lupin

Request: Hey boo! Love your writing, and that prompt list? Aaaaamazing. Maybe you could do one with remus with 54,64 and 79 from prompt list #2?? If not that's totally cool, I Don't know, just got that idea last night:) Lots of loveee.

Prompts:

54. “Would it be all right if I borrowed your sweater? It smells like you.”

64. “Your bedhead is really cute”

79. “No, like…. It’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.”

Word count: 1.6K

You where so Absolutely, Undeniably, Indubitably tired. You had stayed up the previous night studying, and you had to pull n all nighter later tonight to study for a shitty potions exam, my god you hated N.E.W.T.S. The rest of your friends, the Marauders, Lily, Marlene, Dorcas, everyone had already studied and got an early night, while you procrastinated, so you had to cram the night before. This is hell, why do you do this? But you decided to take full advantage of the empty common room and decided to set up shop down their for the night. It was 10Pm, you where fresh faced, full from supper and have a cup of tea. How hard could Potions be to grasp?

It turns out very hard. All of the stuff that actually went into your brain just got muddled up, and it just wasn't going well. Your tea had been left to go cold, and the entirety of your notes had been spilled out over the common room table. It was getting chilly, and you needed some more tea anyway, so you decided to take a break. How you hadn't gotten colder earlier is a mystery, as you where wearing biker shorts and a tank top. You grabbed your cup, and stood up, when the cold sent a shiver down your spine and goosebumps rose on your skin. Then an idea popped into your head. Every day since you met him, Remus Lupin had worn the exact same, comfy looking, sweater, day in, day out. And to be honest, that's something you could use right now. You crept up the stairs, closer to the boys dorm, and quietly knocked on, you waited a few seconds, but there was no reply.

“Rem?” You whisper-shouted.

Then almost instantaneously, the door swung open, revealing none other than Remus Lupin, with no shirt, plaid pyjama pants and a book in his hand. Of course. He gave you a warm smile as he opened the door for you to step into the room. Man he looked so damn adorable in the low light.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing up, its like 2Am?” He gave a questioning look.

“I'm sorry, its what?” Since when did it get that late, you could've sworn you'd only started studying an hour ago. He nodded toward the clock on his night stand, which, in classic Remus fashion, was also drowned in old books and chocolate. You let out a quiet giggle.

“Guess the time just got away from me. I was wondering...” You chuckled nervously, why was it so damn hard to ask this man for a sweater. Right, he was Remus. “Would it be all right if I borrowed your sweater? It smells like you, and I could really use the comfort right now?” He just kinda stood there, jaw slack, fumbling over his words, trying to explain how much he would love to give you any sweater he owned, without sounding creepy of course.

“If you two are gonna shag, could you maybe do it quietly? I'm trying to sleep here” The grumbled voice of Sirius came from the end bed. Remus threw a pillow at him as you both blushed profusely.

“Yeah.” He said abruptly. “I mean yeah, of course you can, yeah, yeah, of course, yeah” He repeated, with a nervous laughter.

“So, can I borrow it?” You questioned sarcastically with a laugh.

“Yeah, ill go get it” He laughed lowly. He tried to be as smooth as he could but when you where around, he had the function of a paper plate. Trying to retrieve the jumper from his trunk, he slipped a few times, laughing and mumbling a quiet ‘sorry’. How can one man be so cute. He quickly jogged back over to you, about to hand you the sweater, when he stopped to admire your beauty for a second, your face lit by the candle light. Well what he thought to be a second but was more closer to a minute, being snapped out of his daydream by a quiet ‘Rem?’ Coming from you. God he loved that nickname. He laughed and apologised, handing you the sweater.

“Don't stay up too late though, love, you wont be able to focus if you have no sleep” he lectured. “You want some chocolate to take down with you?” You gratefully accepted his offer, marvelling at the mass amounts of chocolate he had. He gave you a variety. You knew he had given you his expensive chocolate he had gotten for his birthday. But you pretended not to notice and thanked him for the gesture with a kiss on the cheek as you quickly ushered out of the room. Scared if you stayed too long, you'd do something you regret. Of course, you left so quick, you just missed the deep blush that appeared on Remus’ face as he held a hand against his cheek where you had just kissed. He heard a low “Man, you are soooooo whipped” From Sirius, but just threw a pillow at him. He lay back down on his bed, dreaming of you.

After your sweater and chocolate exchange with Remus, you decided to duck back into the kitchens for some more tea. A quick caffeine top up is just what you needed. As you got back to the common room it was quickly approaching 2:30Am, You decided to get a few more hours of study done, but now in Remus’ comfy sweater. Obviously it was wayyy to comforting, because you ended up nodding off on the common room couch at 4Am, engulfed by the sweater and surrounded by the smell of Remus.

While you slept soundly downstairs, Remus looked up at his clock. 4:45Am. Sleep alluded him lately much to his chagrin. His dreams were usually filled to the brim with you, wondering what his life would be like if you two where together. But recently, he had been thinking about doing something about it, causing him some sleepless nights. He though you liked him, he was 90% sure, okay more like 60%. But the marauders had him convinced that she liked him back. Hell even lily knew that the Gryffindor princess was smitten for Werewolf Boy. He just wanted you to be his, and for him to not be a bumbling, stammering, blushing mess around you He lay in his own head space for about 45 minutes, until he realised you where still downstairs. He was worried you might work yourself to death at this rate. So he quietly shuffled out of his bed, making his way down the stairs. What he saw when he got down there was, perhaps, the one thing he’d want to see for the rest of his life. You where curled up around a pillow on the common room couch, Remus’ sweater drowning you. You where bathing in the Dawn sunlight, and you looked absolutely ethereal. He thought if there was heaven on earth this would be it. If there where big, cartoon heart eyes in real life, he’d definitely have them right bout now. He stood there staring at you, with his big, cartoon heart eyes for a solid five minutes, until you began to stir and wake up. He tried to busy himself looking over your papers and other miscellaneous things on the table.

“Hey, Remmy, not stealing my notes are you?” You giggled in your cute morning voice. He stood, frozen and slack jawed. How could one woman be so perfect? “Rem? Oh no, what's wrong? Is it my terrible bed head?” You panicked trying to flatted your crazed hair. He quickly shook himself from his daydream.

“No, its… Your bed head is cute” He mumbled lowly, you giggled. “Its just… I cant believe your wearing my clothes.”

“Well yeah, that was why I asked for it, it smells good” You breathed In the scent of his sweater, and Remus looked at you. Sat there, with a bed head, sleep deprived, having just woken up, still looking like an angel on earth. Why was he doing nothing about it? To hell if he was gonna let some douche get you before he could.

“Rem?” You questioned, blushing under his abnormally long stare. And before you knew it he had immediately rushed to you, his lips attaching to yours, passionate but hungry. He pulled away, his forehead resting against yours. “Ive been wanting to do that for a while” He laughs and you giggle. But you where cut short by a slow clap ensuing from behind you, you both turned to see Sirius on the staircase, classic smirk and everything. Remus was about to scold Sirius and warn him not to tell the boys but Sirius already knew it. “Don't worry. ‘Remmmmyyyy’” He said in a dreamy voice. “I wont tell the boys” Remus released breath and started counting down.

“3...2...1...” You furrowed your brows to question him, but it was soon answered by Sirius clamouring up the stairs screaming James’ name, probably about to tell him what just happened.

“Back in a sec, love” He said before rushing after Sirius, his werewolf traits no match for Sirius’ dog ones. You just stared after him, before shrinking down into the couch, sighing dreamily.

#Remus Lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #marauders masterlist #marauders #marauders era #marauder era

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timextoxhajima · 3 years

Text

I Wish (Part IV, Continuing from When You Love Someone)

Group: DAY6

Genre: DAY6 TRILOGY CONTINUATION (What Can I Do, I Loved You, When You Love Someone)

A/N: After like 4 years of people trying to get me into Day6, I’m finally here with What Can I Do playing on repeat in the bg to help me vibe with what I’m writing. Biggest thank you to the person who got me into this mess, I might just cry with how many things I have up my sleeves now.

"3... 2... 1... Younghyun! I'm coming to find you!”

!Younghyun covers his mouth with glee, listening to his best friend run down the hallway and right past the cabinet he was hiding in.

"Jieun, please be careful down the stairs!" He heard his mother calling out from downstairs.

"Okay!" Jieun's voice rings through the house as her footsteps trace back down the steps. Younghyun closes one eye to look through the gap between the two doors, watching Jieun return up to the second floor.

"Younghyun!" The eight year old boy covers his mouth, preventing himself from laughing. Hide-and-seek is an important game ans he cannot lose to a girl.

"Younghyun~!" She shouts in a sing-songy voice, closer to the cabinet than he would like her to be. Then Jieun suddenly turns to the cabinet, catching that little glimmer in her eyes when she realised he could be hiding in there.

Younghyun's mother can hear the excited screams and yells from the second floor when she assumes Jieun has found her son hiding in his favourite hiding spot, the sound of their laughter only bringing her joy and comfort.

In the night, Younghyun's mother leaves two waterbottles outside the tent they were sleeping in (that was pitched in Younghyun's room) before leaving, turning off the lights before closing the door behind her. Younghyun crawls out, grabbing a torchlight and shining the bright beam at Jieun's gameboy as it beeps to life.

Little did they know it would be the last time they could do that, or even fit into the tent.

Younghyun was a quick-witted child, understood things faster than normal kids would. Jieun's pink-blushed face was looking down at him through the window of the passenger's seat infront as her father thanks Younghyun's parents for the three-week-long babysitting.

"Where is she going? Why is she leaving? Is she coming back? Did I do something wrong?"

Jieun's father squats and pats Younghyun's head, offering the child a look of apology that he will not understand for the next five years or so.

"We'll come back to visit, okay? Thank you for taking care of my Jieun for me."

It's like the adult thinks he can replace Younghyun's best friend when he hands him a toy robot. Jieun's eyes are unable to peel away from Younghyun when the car jerks after her father shuts the car door. Younghyun's mother is desperately wiping her son's face and holding him in his arms while he watches the car drive off.

"We'll come back to visit" is one of the biggest lies an adult can tell a child.

Younghyun jerks awake from his sleep, the alarm jolting him out of his nightmarish memory. Slamming a hand down into the alarm clock, he shuts it off and sits up, fingers running through his hair with his eyes still closed.

Kim Jieun... do you not remember me?

Park Jaehyung and Kim Jieun look a little too close for Younghyun's liking, but what can he say? They had sleepovers when they were 8 years old -- had her father not dragged her halfway across the country then, he would be in Jaehyung's place right now.

Funny how all three new students were all dumped in his class though. Kim Jieun, Yoon Dowoon and Park Jaehyung. Yet, while Jieun and Jaehyung looked like they were having the time of their lives, Dowoon seemed like he'd be better off dead.

"Hi, are you three doing alright in school?" Jieun looks up to Wonpil, eyes halved into crescents as he does his job of being the class president. Younghyun watches Jieun and Jaehyung nod and thank him, but Dowoon's earpieces were shoved so far into his ear canals, Wonpil goes unheard.

"Yah," Younghyun is surprised when Jieun drops honorifics when she calls out to Dowoon. "He's talking to us."

Dowoon gives her a side stare, and proceeds to continue ignoring her.

"I'm sorry, he's been going through a hard time since the move. He'll be up and around in due time." Looking over at Dowoon again, she tries once more to get his attention.

“It’s okay,” Wonpil shakes his head, gently blocking her from reaching out to him. “I get it. He just needs time.”

Wonpil nods, giving Dowoon one more glance before returning to his seat. At the end of the day, Younghyun and Jieun had been rostered to clean the classroom, so he feels nothing but discomfort when she exhibits the diligence she was already known for back then. Picking up the mop and the broom, she starts cleaning the floor without hesitation, without giving Younghyun a second look.

Does she not remember me or--

"Kang Younghyun."

It feels like his heart had just been stabbed by an electric rod, and it takes mountainous effort for him to contain the shock and surprise he was about to barf out.

"Can you do your job?"

The boy rolls his eyes, frustrated and frankly, a little hurt that she doesn't remember him. A painful wincr of a smile shows up on his lips when she comes over, handing him one of the mops.

How many ‘Kang Younghyun’s are there anyway? Do I even look that different? Just what is keeping her from--

"When were you ever this useless?"

His eyes dart up from the table to hers, face blank but eyes full of meaning.

"I'll admit that I didn't recognise you the other day when we bumped into each other," Younghyun's heart is about to lurch out of his chest. "But it clicked so..."

The world is silent for some seconds. Younghyun's heart is yearning to reach out and hug her for he had lost the one thing he would have rather had for the rest of his life. But Jieun would probably take it the wrong way... or rather -- his replacement might not like it.

"How are you?"

The question takes Younghyun by surprise. Why did it take her so long to finally ask this? He, unfortunately, cannot swallow his pride and take her into his arms the way he wants to.

“I’m fine,” He spits, grabbing the mop and moving off to mindlessly paint the floor with water that he wasn’t even sure was clean. Jieun's eyebrows flatten against her features, confused but silent in understanding. She can only imagine how angry he was, and when a child’s anger goes unanswered, unfixed for a decade... it turns into something of a grudge that she isn’t sure she can undo.

Younghyun carelessly flings the mop around the space, the water sprinkling on all kinds of surfaces before Jieun runs over, nearly wishing to shove the mop into his face.

How immature can he get, over something that wasn’t in my control?

“Younghyun--”

“I’ve done my job,” Offering her the most nonchalant smile he can force onto his lips, he raises a fist in a bid to ‘encourage’ her. Jieun huffs in disbelief, hand running through her hair as he leaves the classroom. “Have fun.”

Jieun: i can’t believe he was such a jerk about it

You: doesn’t he know you couldn’t have done anything about it anyway

Jieun: i don’t know

Jieun: i just wish he knows i was just as sad as he was when my dad brought me away

You: maybe you need to give him time, like dowoon does

Jieun: sigh

Jieun: you’re right

Jieun: you’re there already, aren’t you?

You: yeah, what’ya want?

Jieun: nah, i’m okay. i’ll be back a little later though, had to clean up whatever younghyun didn’t

You: alright

Jieun: see you later!

Pausing right outside the cafe, Jaehyung locks the phone and sucks in a deep breath, the transparent glass providing him with a flawed view of the barista. Failing to remember the last time he had such a huge crush on someone he doesn’t even know, he gathers his courage in the palms of his sweaty hands as he pushes himself into the cafe.

“Welcome!” Her voice sounds like wind chimes and bells. “Oh! It’s you!”

“Right, hi,” Get your shit together, man.

“I’m guessing two milkshakes?” My God, that smile should be illegal.

“Uh-- just one today, actually.”

“Oh?” Her eyes widen, enlarging all the sparkles in her eyes. “Do you want to try something else?” Leaning forward over the counter, she points to the menu board stuck upright. “You can try the cold brew coffee. It’s a new item and I’ve tried it myself, pretty refreshing.”

“Okay, sure.”

That was too quick a response, man.

“Alright! Just give me a few minutes.”

I’ll give you all the time you need.

There was a struggle to contain all that admiration and envy for just a single person. When she brings the cup of coffee over, it looks like an angel serving you a cup of heaven.

She smiles not with her lips, but with her eyes, and Jaehyung cannot help but to purse his lips in a bid to contain his happiness.

"I'm sorry, he's been going through a hard time since the move. He'll be up and around in due time."

Younghyun shifts his weight to the side, brain empty of thoughts besides thinking of the way Jieun spoke to Yoon Dowoon, spoke of Yoon Dowoon. The arcade had an occasional jingle sound to it due to the bell hung on the door, coupled with the rapid shooting from FPS games and then there’s the incessant smashing of game console buttons--

“Get out of my seat, cunt.”

Younghyun’s ears are drawn to the familiar voice -- a big burly dude who didn’t do much but torment the kids in the arcade. He knows better not to interfere so he plasters his attention back to the motorbike racing game he was on.

“But I don’t see your name on the console.”

The voice wrings Younghyun out of his virtual competition, an instinct telling him to get up and stop the impending disaster. He couldn’t decide if it was because he knew the big guy was a bully, or if he’s figured out that Yoon Dowoon must be related to Jieun of some sorts.

“You little--” Yoon Dowoon braces himself for impact, arm covering his head, until he hears a thud right above him. His eyes travel up, logic taking awhile to settle around his saviour’s facial features as the bully’s wrist is held tightly in someone else’s palm.

“He’s got a point. Console doesn’t have your name on it.”

Dowoon frowns when he connects the dots, suddenly more agitated that he needs another boy to help him out of his misery. Out of annoyance, and of the many options he could’ve chosen to carry out, he chooses to storm off.

Younghyun smirks to himself, letting out a chuckle of disbelief.

Dowoon finds himself stranded along the roadside after he’s bought himself a little bottle of milk, the kind that his father used to get for him when he was a kid, before his mother had chosen to remarry one of the richest Kims in the country.

He fiddles with the ointment and the single hard-boiled egg in his pocket, silently hoping that if his classmate wouldn’t appear from the corner and beat him into a pulp the way he probably had been, Dowoon could show some kind of gratitude.

Speaking of the Devil, Younghyun turns round the corner, slight frustration overwhelming his eyes when he spots Dowoon candidly sipping on his milk.

“You really know how to run away from a fight, don’t you?” He grabs the chair and plops himself down, already ready to shove that bottle of milk down Dowoon’s mouth for ditching him. Licking the corner of his bottom lip, he manages to restrain himself from wincing.

Dowoon pulls out the ointment and hard-boiled egg, gently pushing it across the table. The gesture catches Younghyun off-guard, a second smile of disbelief surfacing on his lips.

“Were you just waiting for me to show up so you could hand me these?”

Dowoon mischievously raises a brow, taking a loud sip from his milk. “Mhm.”

Younghyun cannot help but snort at Dowoon’s daring nature before he picks the egg up and rubs it across his cheekbone.

“So,” Dowoon doesn’t hesitate to start. “What’s your relationship with Jieun?”

The smile falls from Younghyun’s face, and Dowoon isn’t an idiot. Contrary to his silent demeanor, he used to be known for being able to read people easily.

“I see the way you look at her, and when you were rostered to stay back to clean up the classroom today... I heard a bit of it.”

Refusing to admit that he’s just been exposed, Younghyun cracks the egg on the tabletop. Begins to peel the shell of the milky white interior. The last few sips of Dowoon’s milk becomes particularly loud when he puts in the extra effort to suck it up, then he throws it in a nice toss into the nearest dustbin.

“You don’t have to hide anything, you know,” Dowoon says with calm in his voice. “It’s not like I’ll tell her anything. We might live in the same house but I know to protect a man’s pride.”

He can feel his saviour’s eyes pierce through his skull as he says those exact words. Good, I got it spot on.

“Same house, huh?” Younghyun takes a bite from the egg. “I’m guessing this is why she moved away ten years ago.”

It was Dowoon’s turn to fall silent, simply because he must’ve been crying about his father leaving him somewhere on the other side of the country too.

“Why’d you guys move back here then? Only recently?”

“Mother invested in some new apartments nearby, got the suite and dumped us there.”

Younghyun hums, chewing on the egg yolk. “And... Jaehyung?”

Dowoon studies Younghyun’s inability to look at him in the eye. He’s jealous of Jieun’s best friend.

“You’ll find out when you ask Jieun yourself.”

#day6 #day6 fanfic #day6 scenario #wonpil #sungjin #youngk #dowoon #jae #idk what else to tag

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melon-kiss · 4 years

Text

Screaming, Pt 2

Link to the part on AO3.

__________

The curly-headed one has established a new routine. He comes once a week to visit. That’s new.

I don’t get many visitors here. There are nurses, who enter my room three times a day, forcing me to take meds. Well, I’m not the one to give in easily, so they have to put a lot of effort to make me swallow the pills and I don’t do it myself anyway. I look like a dog or a cat - they massage my throat until they’re sure the meds go down to the stomach. I feel sorry for them, but it’s not like I can do much more. My body is detached from my brain.

There’s also a doctor - Mark... something. I didn’t get his last name and didn’t care to ask. He comes by once a day to tell me what the weather’s like, how my blood tests came out and remind me how important it is to eat solid food. They can’t keep me on the IVs for much longer, he says. He mentioned something about me losing a lot of weight. I have to believe him because I don’t recognise my body entirely. He talks to me as if I didn’t know anything. Let me tell you something, mister - I may look like a vegetable but my brain is fine (excluding the major damages caused by LSD, of course). I know I’m in a hospital for the mental ones. I’m not stupid.

The doctor’s visits seem pointless. He looks at my patient chart, takes my temperature, checks my reactions. If the diagnosis were based on them, I would be out in no time. But it’s not. His visits are not completely useless, though. I managed to overlook the chart and confirmed the name once: Molly Hooper. It reminded me of a certain badge and a white coat. These were the memories from the morgue and lab. But I couldn’t see any faces, they were blurred. I remember the rooms, especially the lab. Nothing beyond. Still, it was better than nothing at all.

The curly-headed one comes once a week and sits down almost at the other end of the room, in the left corner. He always wears a suit but he doesn’t look like the police officer that came with him the other day. I can’t figure out what he does for living. He takes off his coat and scarf, and sits in his corner. He puts his hands like in a prayer and presses them against his lips.

And stares.

Endlessly.

Not once in six weeks he’s spoken to me.

His bright blue eyes study my face and my eyes follow his. I don’t take them off of him. I usually sit with my legs pulled up and pressed against my chest, with arms wrapped around my knees. He sits in the corner for about an hour. He doesn’t take notes, doesn’t look away. Doesn’t take a short round around the room to straighten up his legs. It’s a routine and it’s quite comforting to know what he’s going to do every time he drops by.

Then, after the hour is over, the puts on his scarf and coat, comes close to me. He places a kiss on my forehead and whispers something that sounds like “Norbury”.

But after those six weeks I notice a change. During the seventh week, I wait. I keep glancing at the clock over the door on Wednesday. He doesn’t have one specific hour we comes at but the later it gets, the more anxious I am. Not that anyone could tell - my body is still resilient to all brain commands. It’s heavy, like a medieval armour.

It’s almost nine in the evening when he walks in. I have no idea why he’s been let in at such a late hour, but he does come in. He looks pale and exhausted. His movements are slower than usual. There are dark circles around his eyes. He flops onto the chair and doesn’t look at me intensively anymore. He supports his head with the thumb and the index finger of his right hand and blinks but there are no more thinking traces in his eyes. He moves his eyelids up and down and they’re heavy from something that resembles pain.

He sits like this for about twenty minutes and then he pulls up his chair right at the end of my bed. He stares straight at me at the very close proximity of two feet.

I don’t have the slightest idea of what my face is showing but I know I feel frightened.

I understand what happened to me, I know the side effects of LSD. And I know that it wasn’t my weekly guest who drugged me - it was a girl named Eurus. Since he looks like a male, I don’t have any reason to believe he’s the perpetrator, but if I didn’t know any better, I would suspect it because the guilt filling his eyes is so heavy I wonder how he can walk without limping. But now, being close to him, I can feel the warmth of his breath. It’s fresh, very minty at the end of every exhale. My heart pounds pretty quickly comparing to last seven weeks but I still don’t move much. I feel trapped.

I try to tell him it’s not his fault. I really do. I can see he puts all the blame on himself and I would like to tell him to forget it. I don’t remember him anyway. He should find someone else and fall in love again (I hate those so called advices but they seem to work for some people, and I hope they would for him), maybe this time with someone less mental. He’s very handsome; I’m sure he won’t have a problem finding someone willing to take the pain away. He also seems very intelligent and perceptive. That’s always very attractive.

He looks at me for another thirty minutes and stands up unexpectedly. He locks my face in his hands and kisses my forehead, but then, he puts our foreheads together. I raise my eyes up to see his face and it’s all wrinkled with pain. He closes his eyelids very tightly.

“I’m so sorry, Molly,” he whispers and it almost sounds like crying. “Please, forgive me. Please. Please. Don’t hate me.”

I want to comfort him that I don’t even know him and therefore cannot hate him. It’s this Eurus gal. She’s nuts, not him. Maybe she hates him? I don’t understand why I would do it. Unless he was my bodyguard, he’s not the one to blame. And even if he were, it wouldn’t be his fault. He’s not the perpetrator.

The minute he straightens, one of the grey-haired visitors walks in. It’s the shortest one. He looks at the curly-headed, worried. He, however, steps back quickly.

“Sherlock, we should go.”

Sherlock. I come to realise that it must be his name. Sounds dramatic. Baroque. Funny even.

“I know. Thank you, John.”

I follow him with my eyes to the exit. He walks out without looking back.

I lie down on my bed and cover myself with a blanket. Although my brain has issues adjusting to the new reality it’s found itself in, my sleeping schedule is quite regular and looks good; I fall asleep around eleven, wake up at seven. My dreams are very basic - they are a mix of the hospital staff’s faces and childhood memories. My dad often comes to me and plays with me and my sister. I know he’s dead. I remember that much. It fills me with sadness. I have this one memory; our dad was always cheerful, even after he was diagnosed with cancer. But I caught him sitting alone in the bedroom once, going through our old family photos. I was quite certain he was crying. Being twelve back then, I had no idea what to do, how to help him, so I got back to my sister. Our dad came back to play with us five minutes later and he was cheerful again. If I hadn’t seen him earlier, I could never have told he was in pain.

Then, after I wake up, the nurses change my IVs, force me into taking meds, I sit. They try to feed me with solid food, like toasts for breakfast and pasta for dinner. I cannot make my body move towards the plates. I promise myself that I will try to force my muscles everyday to make a progress and maybe finally reach the food. I have to, if I want to survive.

But do I?

Do I want to return to the life I don’t know? Do I want to be out of the hospital, in the real world? Out of the warm comfort zone of my bed? Amongst the people I don’t recognise? All I have is the memories, more even like shreds of them. A man falling behind the window. A present? And the word: you. I don’t even know that it means.

The memories from the last visit of the unknown trio are without any faces again. They trigger my anxiety, so when I try to go through them again, I do it very carefully. I don’t know why it’s so difficult for me but I feel like there’s a huge weight to them. Maybe back then I felt emotionally attached to all those events? I can’t exclude any possibility. But the man... Have I witnessed a suicide? That would explain the fright.

And the curly-headed one. Sherlock. He’s handsome. But why would a man so attractive come to my hospital bed every week? He said something about love but if he does love me, I won’t be able to tell. His visits are not romantic. He doesn’t try to convince me to talk. He just sits there and stares. Maybe he tries to find a solution? Truth is, I start to like his presence. He’s arrogant but I feel like there are whole entire worlds to see under this obnoxious shell. I wish I could tell him about my thoughts, but my body does not cooperate.

I fall asleep to a voice echoing I love you in my head.

* * *

“...she’s definitely in dissociative fugue. It means that she blocks all the traumatic memories, or even more. Her memory can spontaneously get back entirely one day, or piece by piece... or never. Seeing you, all of you, can help but it’s no guarantee. Just talk to her but don’t force her into remembering anything. Use phrases she can remember, show photos of places she’s been to. But not too often and not too forcibly. It can get worse.”

The door to my room creaks when it’s being opened and the Three Horsemen of Madness come in. Not one of them looks happy to be here. I can sense their awkwardness. I imagine talking to me must be as weird as talking to a wall. The result is pretty much the same. Sherlock and the police officer sit, the short one, John, stands. They all keep a distance, as if afraid of my sudden attack. Considering my body does not belong to me anymore, there’s no threat.

“Hello, Molly,” John says finally. “I’m sure you have troubles remembering us... but we’re here to help you. My name is doctor John Watson. This is detective inspector Greg Lestrade and this is... Sherlock Holmes.”

This is the part where a normal person would respond but as it happens, I’m no longer considered normal. It has its perks, you know. My gaze jumps from one person to another. Detective inspector has a wrinkle of worry between his eyebrows and looks hurt. Doctor Watson anticipates some sort of feedback from me, apparently. Sherlock Holmes studies my eyes thoroughly again.

They all should be locked down here with me, to be honest.

“Sherlock and I are sort of... detectives,” John says.

Three detectives in my room. Am I a forensic pathologist? No, I remember St. Bartholomew’s hospital. I once met a guy named Jim there, who turned out to be gay. But someone had warned me about this before...

I see shreds of the lab. I feel dizzy and blink intensively, while John continues his monologue.

“...and you used to help us. You know, we could really trust you.”

...and I’ve always trusted...

“Molly.” Sherlock’s voice does it again to me - makes my heart race. I blink quickly. “We’d like to discuss a case with you. It’s very easy, I’ve found the resolution in about three minutes.” Ugh, cocky. “But that’s why we’d like to start with something very simple.”

He looks at Greg.

“Well, the victim was found naked in his own home, with only watch on his left hand,” Lestrade says. “The watch wasn’t working, it showed eleven thirty. It was male, thirty four, worked as a...”

“No, you’re doing it wrong,” Sherlock interjected. “You’re telling the story from the wrong point of view. How is she supposed to understand a word of what you say if you tell the story, starting from the middle?”

The cockiness again. Something in my body wakes up. I begin to feel a strange heat somewhere in my chest area. I’m close to rolling my eyes on him.

“Sherlock, I think it is the beginning,” John argues. “This is how the story begins for us.”

“Oh, come on, John, not you too!” Sherlock replies, annoyance visible on his face. “I understand that being an idiot must be difficult but it doesn’t excuse you from thinking at all.”

What?

John only rolls his eyes (finally, someone!). The argument gets hotter with every minute and Sherlock doesn’t slow down with the insults. I don’t like it. It’s getting on my nerves. “Idiots”, “morons”, “half-brainiacs”, “thinking requires a brain”. These phrases slip out of his mouth uncontrollably. I see now he’s the emotional one in this trio. John and Greg try to convince him to calm down but he’s on fire. He cannot be stopped.

“...and I’ve told you, the watch has been tampered with! Oh, his bloody fiancé set the time as a symbol of the number of days spent together. Until she’d found out about the lover, of course. A three-year-old could resolve this! Seriously, Lestrade, I’m starting to consider that they choose ONLY MORONS to be police officers...”

Before I can restrain myself, I hear my own voice:

“STOP IT!”

I feel like I’m outside my own body. I watch myself from a perspective of a third person. The room falls silent. I observe three pairs of eyes getting wide to the size of tennis balls. Sherlock’s sarcastic look on his face fades into fear.

Every vein in my body pulses furiously. The heat takes over my numb muscles. My face burns. The bones in my jaw almost hurt, when I say the words:

“JUST STOP IT!”

Suddenly I stand on my bed but not for long. I take a long leap and jump on Sherlock, pinning him to the floor.

Once again I’m in no control of my body. Something in my brain tells me to stop but my fingers wrap tightly around his neck without my consent. I’m out of control but this time, I can’t stop my body from moving, not from sitting still. He’s slim but strong and I’m certain he’s able to defend himself, especially with my arms so skinny and bones so frail. I don’t know if it’s the shock or the lack of strength, but he doesn’t do much to push me.

I feel John’s and Greg’s hands trying to pull me away, but my fury is stronger. My palms clench even tighter around Sherlock’s neck.

“Molly!”

I’m not Molly. I’m not the one they’d like me to be. Molly Hooper doesn’t exist anymore.

I look straight in Sherlock’s eyes. They’re bright blue, filled with tears. He seems to be begging me, but not to stop. Forgiveness. It feels like a sorry. And not even for getting me mad. I don’t understand. For a second I think I let go a bit of the clench.

You. I’ve seen those eyes before.

Dizzy. World spins. I tighten up my grip.

“NURSE!”

A few second later I hear the door creaking again. Several footstep approach me. They pull me back by my arms and shoulders, I fight it. I notice three nurses and a doctor. He holds a syringe in his hand.

“STOP IT!”

It sounds like crying. I shake, try to bite, kick everything and everyone. I toss and turn, and I’m not even in my bed anymore. My body is detached from my brain. Still. I want to be calm but I can’t. Everything in me says to be furious, so I am.

“STOP IT!”

My scream is so loud it makes my guests wince. The nurses and the doctor manage to hold me in their arms for five seconds. Sherlock slowly sits on the floor. I feel a sting in my arm, which makes me only scream more. Whatever is in that syringe, it starts working immediately. Sherlock’s frightened face gets blurry. Suddenly, I find myself lying on the floor.

“Leave me alone,” I mumble.

I see a colourful sweater, a kitchen and a telephone in my hand. Before I’m able to take a closer look, I drift away into a black emptiness.

#sherlolly #sherlock #sherlock x molly #molly x sherlock #sherlock holmes #molly hooper #fanfiction #screaming

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daydreaming-nerd · 5 years

Text

When Dreams Come True pt.2 (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Hi guys! The love from part one was so incredible that I had to go right ahead and make a part two as soon as I could! Warning it’s gonna get dark here.

PART ONE: https://daydreaming-nerd.tumblr.com/post/186578789641/when-dreams-come-true-bucky-barnes-x-reader

Summary: Bucky has a dream that Hydra takes Y/N and it turns into a reality he swore he’d never have to face.

Warnings: kidnapping, torture, blood, almost rape, fluff at the end. Lots of POV changes here so just be aware of that.

3RD PERSON POV:

Bucky woke up that morning in an unfamiliar situation. First of all he had never slept so good in his life and second of all y/n wasn’t in bed next to him. He looked at the clock next to his bed and found it blinking, power outage. He looked again at y/n’s pillow and found a flash drive with a note on it that read ‘BARNES’. He didn’t know why, but upon reading the note his blood ran cold and he knew right then something was very wrong.

He grabbed the drive and walked briskly out the door. To his surprise the whole team was already in the living room looking somber. Only one thought crossed his mind.

“Where’s y/n?” He asked. There was a silence in the room.

“There was a security breech last night when the power went out. It shut everything down, everything except the security cameras,” Tony said giving Bucky a look filled with pity.

Despite the answer Tony had given him, Bucky’s question still wasn’t answered so he asked again.

“Where’s, y/n?” He said with much more authority.

Tony didn’t have the heart to tell him. He simply let out a sigh and hit a button on the TV remote. The rest of the team couldn’t say a word.

Bucky shifted over to see the TV at a better angle. He saw a black and white video of her and him sleeping from last night. Her back to his chest and his metal arm thrown around her mid section. The window near the bed opened up and two men dressed in black creeped in, Hydra patch clearly visible on their arm. They walked up behind Bucky and placed a rag over his mouth for a few seconds, Bucky didn’t even flintch. Then they made their way over to y/n and did the same to her, she woke up thrashed around and suddenly went limp. They left the drive on her pillow and with that they slipped out the window with her.

Tony turned off the TV and the room remained just as silent as it was when he got there. Bucky had sat there mouth open trying to process what he had just seen.

“They took her,” he said.

“Do you have the drive that they left?” Steve asked already trying to solve the problem.

Bucky simply handed the drive to Tony who plugged it into the TV. The Hydra symbol flashed onto the screen and then a video of a man in a white coat came on.

“Sergeant Barnes how nice of you to join us,” he spoke his face taking up almost the whole frame. “You’ve probably noticed by now that you might be missing something. Something we need more than you. You see Project WS2 needed a strong and cunning subject and when we saw her in action yesterday, well we could not resist temptation.” Said the man German accent thick.

He backed away from the camera to show y/n in a small room with a single lamp dangling from the ceiling. She was chained to the wall and looked as though she had already taken a beating.

Bucky felt his heart break and he fell to his knees.

“And to think Sargeant Barnes, we took her right out of your arms.” The man laughed.

“What’s Project WS2?” Steve asked.

“It’s their new Winter Soldier,” answered Nat “they planned to find a subject who was already physically trained and then mentally break them.”

“I’ve chosen to share this experience with you through this live stream. I thought you wouldn’t want to miss the breaking of your sweetheart.” Said the man moving out of the frame so all that could be seen was her.

“No no no no no,” Bucky rambled getting closer to the TV as if you could hear him.

The man in the white coat appeared next to you, looking down on you.

“Such a shame for such beauty to go to waste,” he said grabbing her jaw so she would be forced to face him “though, I’m sure we will be able to find a use.” He smiled evily. A man in the other corner of the room laughed as he came toward her he pulled out a knife and stabbed her in the shoulder causing her to let out a blood curdling scream.

“NO!” Bucky screamed at the TV again.

“Say goodbye to your soldier,” said the man approaching the camera.

“Bucky it’s a trap!” She screamed and with that the screen cut to black.

The whole living room was in shock.

“We have to get her back,” Bucky said, tears spilling down his face.

“We will Buck I promise,” said Steve.

“Hate to break up the little optimism party but we have no idea where they’re keeping her,” Tony chimed in.

“I know,” said Bucky “I’ve seen that room before”

_______________________________________________

YOUR POV:

“Bucky it’s a trap!” I screamed, but it was too late the camera was shut off and the little red light was gone. The room I was in was freezing cold and the tank top and shorts I wore to bed weren’t helping me warm up.

The man in black kicked me in the ribs shattering one and punched me in the face causing my nose to bleed for the second time. He grabbed me by the back of the head and made me face him.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said. “Now, you’re gonna pay. Not even your soldier and his band of freaks can save you now.” He said jabbing a knife into your thigh.

I screamed again.

“Do with her what you must,” said the doctor in white as he grabbed some files and head for the door “when she’s ready you know where to find me.” And with that he was gone.

“You hear that darling? It’s just you and me now. And I’m gonna break your mind until you’re ready for it to be scrambled.” He said reaching for the buckle on his jeans my heart dropped and I started screaming at the top of my lungs.

“NO! NO! PLEASE NO!”

But no one could hear me.

_______________________________________________

3RD PERSON POV:

“It’s all my fault,” said Bucky sitting on the crate next to Steve who was getting ready to board the jet.

“It’s not your fault Buck. No one would’ve guessed that this would happen,” said Steve putting on his gear.

“I did...I had a dream about it the other night and she said I had nothing to worry about...I told her I’d never let anything happen to her,” Bucky said breaking down in tears. “And now I might lose her forever...and the worst part is they took her right out of my arms...the one place I told myself they could never hurt her and they took her right out of my arms.”

“There was nothing you could’ve done Buck, they knocked you out same as her.”

“I can’t lose her Steve,”

Steve moved over to sit on the crate next to Bucky.

“A hundred years ago I lost Peggy because of Hydra, I’m not gonna let you lose y/n.” He said.

_______________________________________________

YOUR POV:

I had no clue how long I had been here for. My body was completely numb and I couldn’t tell if it was from being beaten and used or from the cold but from what I could gather it was a combination of both.

My throat hurt from all the screaming and my wrists were raw from all the struggling. At this point I had broken bones and a multiple cuts and stab wounds.

When the doctor finally came back he attached multiple wires to my head.

“You might want to bite down on this,” he said putting a leather strap in between my teeth.

He walked over to the machine and turned a knob sending electricity to my brain making me feel the worst pain I had ever felt in my life.

He cranked it higher and higher until I passed out.

_______________________________________________

3RD PERSON POV:

The teams jet was parked outside and after trudging through the ice and snow of the alps they finally made it inside the Hydra facility.

“Follow me,” said Bucky, determination in his eyes.

The team ran down the hall easily taking out anyone who dared crossed them. A few turns and Bucky found the room where he too had been broken once. All the sudden alarms went off in the building signaling that it was about to blow. This was Hydra’s trap. He kicked the door down and before he could even take a step further there she was. His y/n. There she was shackled to the wall covered in cuts, blood and bruises. And what’s worse her shorts and panties down around her ankles meaning only one thing. She was sickly pale and hadn’t moved.

“No no no no,” he rushed to her side “Y/n wake up!”

No response. He put his hand on her bloodied face. She was ice cold.

“Y/n! Please wake up!” He cried.

“Bucky c’mon we gotta get out of here!” Steve said.

With that Bucky picked her up and ran to the jet with her as fast as possible.

“Lay her down on the bed,” said Bruce already getting out his medical gear. Bucky did as he was told.

Steve and Nat rushed onto the jet and closed the hatch locking out the blizzard outside. Bruce was already assessing her, plugging in IV’s and bandaging wounds. Bucky stood right behind him watching closely. The whole crew had come to a stop to watch and hope that Bruce would be able to deliver good news.

Minutes later he spoke.

“Multiple stab wounds including her shoulder, leg and abdomen, fractured rib and collar bone, severe head trauma and sufficient blood loss.”

“Will she be okay?” Asked Bucky.

“I’m not sure. Right now she’s in a coma and because I can’t tell what caused the head trauma I can’t tell you when or if she’ll ever wake up,” Bruce said taking his glasses off and rubbing his temples “it’s up to her now.”

A silent tears flooded Bucky’s eyes as he approached her. He sat on a stool and took her hand in his.

“Hey doll, I don’t know if you can hear me but I heard once that people in comas can hear their surroundings so I’m really hoping that’s true.” Bucky sniffled. “I’m so sorry doll. I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you. I’m sorry I let all this happen. I know it’s all my fault. I know I told you I would never let anything happen to you and I’m so sorry I couldn’t keep that promise. I promise I’ll never let anything happen to you again. I know what you’ve been through doll, believe me I do. I know how much pain you must be in. B-but you gotta w-wake up now doll.”

Bucky’s tears were flowing faster than ever and he was getting chocked up. Sniffles and silent cries could be heard from the team behind him but he payed no mind and continued on.

“Y-you gotta wake up now doll because we have so many things we still have to do. Like go to that pizza place down the block that we keep saying we’re gonna eat at and I still gotta take my best girl out dancing at retro night over in that little bar.” He laughed remembering how you’ve been begging him to show you how to dance like they did in the 40’s “and your birthdays in a few weeks doll and boy do I have something special planned for you. I’m gonna absolutely spoil you rotten. I’m gonna wake you up with a hundred kisses and make you breakfast in bed and when you’re done we’re gonna go out on the town and I’m gonna buy you all the dresses and shoes you ever wanted and that night when I take you to your special birthday dinner...I’m...I’m gonna ask you to marry me...and then we can dance to your favorite song...and we can go home... and cuddle up and go to bed and in the morning we can start planning our wedding. But we can’t do that until you wake up doll, you gotta wake up. I can’t live without you, I can’t live knowing you’d still be alive if it wasn’t for me.”

And then Bucky lost it. He broke down sobbing into her cold hand.

“Please y/n! Please!” He cried.

But she still wouldn’t wake up.

_______________________________________________

3RD PERSON POV STILL:

Three days. It had been three days. Three days since y/n had been rescused and three days since Bucky had eaten.

He hadn’t left her side since he found her. He blamed himself. Sometimes the others would come in a talk to him but it was the equivalent to talking to a brick wall. He was so sleep deprived and hungry he couldn’t hold a conversation. Everyone had started to worry. If y/n never woke up would he simply starve to death and die? They couldn’t handle losing two of their dear friends all at once.

Steve walked into the room, sandwich in hand

“I thought you might be hungry,” he said leaning against the door frame.

“I’m okay,” Bucky stayed blandly.

“C’mon Buck you haven’t eaten in almost three days,” Steve said pulling up a chair next to Bucky. “Starving yourself isn’t going to bring her back.”

“I just can’t believe I let this happen to her,”

“It wasn’t your fault,”

“Sure feels like it,”

“You know,” Steve started “about a hundred years ago I dropped my best friend off a train and I blamed myself-,”

“That wasn’t your fault Steve,”

Steve simply gave Bucky a look that said ‘and this isn’t your fault either’

“Eat Bucky, she would want you to,” Steve said standing up and walking out the door.

Bucky reluctantly took a bite of the sandwich and then set it on the night stand.

“Come back to me doll. Please come back to me.” Bucky sighed casting his head down

Suddenly y/n’s index finger twitched causing Bucky to shoot his head up.

“Doll can you hear me?!”

Multiple fingers twitched.

“STEVE! STEVE! COME HERE!” He screamed “come on doll wake up I’m right here.”

Her eyelids twitched and a small groan escaped her lips. Steve busted through the door.

“What, What is it?” He said out of breath.

“I think she’s waking up. Go get Bruce,” said Bucky.

“Bu-,” whispered y/n. Her eyes twitching open ever so slowly.

“I’m right here doll,” Bucky said holding her hand closer than ever.

“Bucky?” She said opening her eyes.

“Oh doll thank god,” Bucky started to cry placing his had on her cheek. “I thought I lost you.”

_______________________________________________

YOUR POV:

A FEW WEEKS LATER:

“Bucky! Bucky! Stop I’m awake!” I said trying to survive my kiss attack wake up call.

“Good Morning doll!” smiles Bucky. “I brought you breakfast!” He said picking up a tray from the night stand.

“Breakfast in bed?! What’s the occasion?” I asked already knowing the answer.

“Your birthday of course!” He said setting it down. “Now when you’re done eating get dressed and meet me in the kitchen. I’ve got a whole day planned for us!”

“Oh do you now?”

“Yes I do! Now I have to go finish cleaning the dishes,” he said walking away.

“Hey hey hey! Where’s my kiss?” I said.

He turned around and gave me a sweet kiss before hustling out to finish the rest of the dishes.

“I love you Sarg!” I yelled out the door.

“I love you too doll!” I heard from the kitchen.

I could tell today was going to be a good day.

*******************************************************

AN: Hey guys I’m sorry this took a while I’ve been having to write from my phone which really sucks. This didn’t turn out exactly the way I wanted it but I really hope y’all like it. I’ve had a lot of people ask me to tag them in this story and I just wanted to let y’all know that if you want me to I can start a tag list! Just message me if you want to be a permanent tag or just be tagged in fics featuring certain characters!

IF YOU LIKED THIS STORY PLEASE BE SURE TO LEAVE A LITTLE NOTE FOR ME AND FOLLOW ME FOR MORE! YOU GUYS KEEP ME MOTIVATED!!

Taglist:

@lumar014 @shygirl-00 @arianna-dori @ek823 @hiddlestaan @londonalozzy @bellamysbaby16

#bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes x reader #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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hairringtonsteve · 5 years

Text

iv. changes. [quixotic]

[steve harrington x reader (female)]

series summary: everyone that knew the truth about hawkins lab thought it was over, that it was all over. they thought that the fighting was over, the bad men were gone. the portal was closed. people were safe. you, however, you knew the truth. things were far from over. and they were coming fast.

word count: 6,892 words

a/n: alright, so i’m literally never making another promise of when i’m updating again. BUT HERE WE ARE, days after season three and a brand spanking new chapter. i’m sorry i’ve been MIA, but life has just been wild. that being said, we’re finally getting to the exciting bits. links will be in the first reblog!

tw: language

• • •

Your back was aching.

A couple of hours into the drive, Steve had pulled over at a rest stop so he could catch up on some sleep. Tee and Seb had fallen asleep awhile back, the two of them slumped over onto each other in the backseat.

“This okay?” Steve had asked, his face half-cast in shadows from the orange glow of the streetlight. There was a small brick building that had vandalized signs for bathrooms pointing to the left. Dimly lit vending machines lined the wall, advertising for snacks and soda right next to a payphone. You guys were parked near the picnic area, which consisted of two picnic tables — one of which had a clearly broken bench — and a trash can. Two tractor-trailers were parked on the other side of the parking lot.

Other than that, it was just the four of you.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” You’d started to feel nauseous around thirty miles back, but it was hard to tell if it was because of the twisting road, or the nerves finally settling in.

His hands had thrummed against the steering wheel as he glanced between the clock and you. You could feel it, this nervous energy radiating off of him. Without a word, he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it towards you. You reacted a moment too late and it smacked you in the face.

“What the hell?” You hissed, a scowl settling across your features. Behind you, you could hear one of the kids shift in the backseat. The two of you froze, waiting until the shifting had settled down before relaxing.

“Keep it down,” Steve whispered, a teasing tone in his voice. “Use it as a pillow. It’ll be comfier that way.”

You watched as he leaned down and pulled a level, making his seat go back farther. He turned around in his seat, making sure that he wasn’t going to disturb Seb before he moved it back a little more. You wondered what he was going to use as a pillow. You almost asked him, but he was already laying back in his seat, scooting down a little before he sighed.

A moment passed before you finally scrunched up his jacket and shoved it between you and the window. You lay your head down on it, adjusting it a few times before it felt even close to comfortable. Sleep was already starting to drag you under, but you stole a single glance at Steve before they’d slipped shut. He was watching you, a small smile gracing his features.

You were out in mere seconds.

And hours later, your back was aching.

You cracked your eyes open, blinking a few times to get the sleep away. The sun was just cresting over the horizon. Music was playing, the volume turned way down. Steve was singing softly under his breath.

I wanna know what love is I want you to show me I want to feel what love is I know you can show me

“We should stop for food soon.” Your voice was a little rougher than usual, thick with waking up. Steve jumped, exhaling a soft shit before looking over to you.

“Didn’t know you were awake,” he whispered. There was a slight blush coloring his cheeks. “We got back on the road about an hour ago. Kids are still out.”

You wanted to point out that he was practically a kid too, but you didn’t. “Sorry for uh, scaring you.”

He rubbed at his face and yawned before shrugging his shoulders. “You’re fine. You needed the sleep.” He waited a moment before glancing over to you and chuckled. “Did you know that you snore a lot?”

You stared at him. “I don’t snore.”

“Oh trust me, you do. As someone who got maybe three hours of sleep last night, I’m an expert on your snoring.”

“I. Don’t. Snore,” you snapped, bristling at the teasing.

He grinned as he spared a glance at you before looking back to the road. “It’s not the worst snoring I’ve ever heard, if it makes you feel any better. Dustin sounds like a train when he snores.”

You tried to remember which one was Dustin. “He’s the one with the hat, right?”

Steve went mmhmm. “Little shit snores with the best of them.”

It fell silent after that, and a little awkward. It was getting to be pretty clear to you that Steve was the actual definition of nice. His teasing was annoying and his singing voice wasn’t great, but he was nice. He was driving them hours away from his home for whatever reason. He hadn’t ratted you guys out. He’d given you his jacket to use as a pillow.

It didn’t make sense.

“That look okay?” Steve asked. You blinked, trying to figure out what he was asking when you noticed the large sign in front of the car. It just said the words DINER 1 MILE. The letters were faded.

“Are you even sure that it’s still there?”

“If it’s there, it’s there. If not, we’ll keep going,” Steve said. It was quiet for the next minute or so as he drove down the road. He slowed down as he went around a turn, and there it was — the diner.

It didn’t seem to be packed. There were only a few cars in the parking lot. It was hard to tell if it was just because it was too early or if the food was shitty. The outside of the place looked a little dingy. The sign that read Last Call Diner was still lit up despite the almost-risen sun. A few of the neon letters flickered on and off.

Steve pulled into the parking spot and navigated it into a space. He put the car in park, but didn’t turn the engine off. He shifted around in his seat to face you. “You okay with eating here?” He asked, giving you an imploring look.

You nodded slowly. “It’s fine.”

Steve opened his mouth to stay something, frowned a little, and then closed it. He bobbed his head a few times and you felt a spike of anxiety roll off of him. “Right,” he began, still nodding his head. “Cool. Yeah. Let’s head in.”

“O...kay,” you said, trailing off. You raised a brow in question at him, but he just faced the steering wheel and turned the key so the engine shut off. “Can you pop the trunk? I need to grab something from my bag.”

“What’re you getting?”

You looked at him as though he was stupid. “Cash? To pay for the food?”

He gave you the same look right back. “Why?”

“So we don’t starve?”

“No, I meant — you’re not paying for food.”

“Then who’s paying for it?”

Steve sighed dramatically. “Me. I’m paying for your food.”

“I can pay for it myself, thanks.”

“I’m not saying you can’t. But if you’re going to be on the run for awhile, you need to learn how to accept kindness from strangers.”

You gave him a long look. Maybe nice wasn’t the right word for Steve. You weren’t sure if there was a word beyond what nice meant, but whatever it was, it could be him. You tried to make sense of him, but you couldn’t. You were pretty sure that if you thought about it too long, your brain was going to start hurting.

Turning around, you swatted at Tee’s leg. “Get up, guys,” you said, your voice nice and loud. Seb let out a little groan as Tee gave you the finger. “We’re grabbing food. Let’s go.” With that you swung open the door and stepped outside.

A cool breeze made you shiver. Pressing your lips together, you glanced down at his jacket that was lying on the front seat. You were tempted to put it on.

“Just throw it on, Christ,” Steve said, leaning down a little so he could scrunch up his brow at you from where he was still sitting. You set your jaw and scowled.

But you still grabbed the jacket.

Tee was pushing the front seat forward to clamber out when she gave you a look, her eyebrows high on her forehead as you slid your arms into the sleeves. “You’re wearing his jacket?”

“It’s cold.”

“You could grab a sweater from your bag.” She was giving you that judgemental look of hers that she’d somehow perfected between Montauk and that diner. It kind of felt like she was seeing right through you somehow.

“His jacket was right here. Sweater’s in the trunk.”

She narrowed her eyes a little as she stared at you, like she was trying to figure something out. “The money’s in the back and you were gonna get that. But the sweater’s too far?”

“What’s your deal? It’s a jacket.”

Tee frowned. “I just… I don’t know if we can trust him.”

You froze. “What do you mean?” Something in your chest twisted. It wasn’t as if you’d trusted him, but you hadn’t picked up anything from him that raised the alarm. He was a little too nice and a little too earnest, but that was it. Nothing malicious, nothing bad.

She took a deep breath before frowning. “I woke up when we parked at the rest stop,” she began. “And after you fell asleep, he went to a payphone and made a call.”

Ice ran through your veins. Your breath caught in your throat. “I… What?”

“I couldn’t get out because he would’ve known and I didn’t want to wake you up because then he’d know that I knew.”

“Could you make out anything?”

Tee’s shoulders drooped as she shook her head. She glanced over to Steve and you followed her gaze. Steve was holding a hand out to Seb to help him out of the car. They were talking quietly enough that you couldn’t make out what they were saying. A soft smile was on Steve’s face as he looked down at Seb. Seb’s eyes were lighting up in response.

Internally, you screamed.

Steve glanced over to you and your expression hardened. “C’mon, we don’t have all day.”

At your words, Seb scurried around the front of the car and ran directly into you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Can I have hot chocolate?” He asked, grinning up at you as he rested his chin against your hip. Idly, you scratched your nails lightly against his scalp.

You shook your head. “Nope. Too expensive.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but something in him made him stop. Instead, he let go of your waist and grabbed your hand, starting to drag you towards the door while Tee lingered near the car.

“No, no, you guys go ahead. That’s fine,” Steve said, sarcasm lacing his tone. When you craned your neck to get a good look at him, you could see him grinning. Seb looked back too and laughed. It was bright and happy, something you hadn’t heard in a long time.

There was so much that Seb didn’t even know he’d missed out on. Granted, there was a lot of that you didn’t know about either, but it had been too long for you. With Seb, though, there was at least some hope that he’d get to have a normal life, one without being poked and prodded and experimented on. One where he could laugh like that all the time.

“Do you think they’ll be happy to see us?” Seb asked as you reached the door. You pulled it open and let him go through before answering.

“Of course. They all miss you and Tee, promise.”

“And you, they miss you too.”

Somehow, you doubted that.

The diner was pretty empty. A couple of tables had some couples sitting at them. There were a few truck drivers sitting at the counter. Mostly everyone was still bleary-eyed as they sipped on their coffee. A waitress who looked like she’d been there since the beginning of time came up and grabbed some menus by the cash register.

“Just two?”

“No, ma’am. There are two more coming in,” you said. She gave you a nod and waved her hand, motioning for you to follow her. She led the two of you to a booth by a window, giving you a good view of the parking lot. WIthout a word she dropped the menus onto the table and headed off, muttering something about refreshing the coffee.

“Scoot in.” Seb heeded your word and slid in, his feet hanging off the edge of the vinyl. You sat beside him and grabbed a menu. He grabbed one too and began flipping through it. “You know you can’t read, right?”

“I can read some words.”

You quirked a brow at him. “Yeah? What’s that one say?” You asked, pointing to the phrase pancake platter. He squinted and leaned in close to the menu, taking his lower lip between his teeth. It took him a few seconds, but then he was sitting back against the seat and grinned up at you.

“It says ‘shut up.’” He could barely get the words out before cackling. You snorted. “There’re pictures. I’ll look at those.”

“Just make sure to get something cheap,” you warned, watching as Seb shot you a frown.

“Steve said I could get whatever I want. And I want…” He trailed off as he looked over the pictures. His eyes grew to the size of plates as they settled on a picture of “ — chocolate chip pancakes!”

“Get something else. Those are too much.”

You looked up to where Steve and Tee were just walking through the door. You tilted your chin up a little, catching his eye and nodding to the booth.

“Steve said ‘whatever you want, man.’ And he meant it!” He argued, even lowering his voice to do a poor imitation of him.

“Yeah, well, he already drove us here. Don’t use up all of his money.”

“No hot chocolate, no pancakes. C’mon El.”

“I said no.”

Seb groaned. “But he said —”

“No. And that’s it. Suck it up.”

“Suck what up?” Steve asked, raising a brow at the two of you.

“Nothing,” you said, your voice harder than you’d meant for it to be. He’d called someone at the rest stop. Shit. Shit.

“Have you ever been here before?” Seb asked Steve, scooting towards the table.

Steve waited for Tee to slide into the booth before plopping down. “Not here exactly, but in the area, yeah. Dad dragged me on a camping trip when I was eight and he drove us out this way. He forgot sleeping bags, so he slept in the car while I slept in a tent with just a blanket.”

“Why didn’t you just go home?” Tee asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess my dad didn’t want to admit to my mom that he’d messed up.” There was something in his voice that told you there was something there, that something was off. You’d be able to pick that up even without your powers. You could feel it, though, that ache of some painful emotion that was swirling around him. It was hard to place. Was it regret? Anger? Sadness? Whatever it was, it was lessened a little as the waitress came over.

“Can I get you four something to drink?” She asked. She was older than they were, maybe mid-twenties. Her eyes stayed on Steve, a little smile settling across her features.

“Uh, I’ll have a coffee,” Steve said as he gave her a friendly smile.

Tee waited a few seconds before clearing her throat. Once the waitress looked over to her, she grinned, all teeth. “I’ll have a coffee too.”

“Make that three coffees,” you said. You looked over to Seb, waiting for him to order. He shrank back against the vinyl of the booth, frowning. He mumbled something, soft enough that you didn’t catch it. “What’d you say?”

He looked between you and the waitress before giving you a pointed look. You rolled your eyes at him, but leaned down so he could whisper into your ear. After he spoke, you turned back to the waitress and gave her a tight-lipped smile.

“He’ll have milk.”

The waitress nodded, scribbling down the drink order before heading off towards the kitchen.

“You afraid to talk to the waitress?” Steve asked. Seb scowled at him.

“No!”

“Then why didn’t you ask her yourself?”

Seb looked over to you and then back to Steve, heaving his shoulders up and down in a dramatic shrug. “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

Steve barked out a laugh, his eyes lighting up as a grin spread across his features. “Alright man, you have me there.”

It was his grin that did it. Seb was getting too attached, too enamored with Steve and his charm.

“So who’d you call last night?”

Steve’s grin froze on his face. He blinked once, then twice, as he looked over to you. His nerves were rolling off of him in waves. “I… What?”

You tilted your head at him. “What was so important that you had to call someone last night, huh?” Your voice was deceptively calm. Tee was staring straight at Steve while Seb was looking up at you with confusion.

“Look, Elise, just let me explain.” You raised a brow, but otherwise didn’t react. “I called Dustin to let him know what was going on, where I was.”

“What’d he say?”

He paused, pressing his lips together as he thought it over. The longer he waited to speak, the more nervous you got. He shouldn’t be taking this long to answer.

“Steve,” you barked out, impatience growing thin.

“El — Jane said —”

At that, you were interrupted by the waitress. She was giving Steve another grin as she doled out the drinks. You wanted to warn her that the hair wasn’t everything, that Steve was someone that couldn’t be trusted.

But then again, was this really his fault? You were the one who should’ve said no to him driving you guys to Saline. You were the one who agreed to all of this. You were the one who put on his stupid jacket. This was on you.

“Do you guys know what you’re getting?”

Seb answered first, rattling off an order of chocolate chip pancakes while side-eyeing you hard. You didn’t even bother to correct him. Steve called his little buddy, he could waste his money on chocolate chip pancakes.

You ordered the first thing you saw off the menu, as did Steve and Tee. The waitress deflated a little, clearly disappointed in how disinterested Steve was in ordering. She lingered for a moment longer, looking at him encouragingly. An awkward silence fell over the table, and after another few agonizing seconds, she left.

“So?” You asked as soon as the waitress was out of earshot.

“You’re like Jane. Not from the Hawkins lab, but from somewhere. I assume you can do weird shit too?”

You glance down at Seb, who was shrinking down in his seat. A sharp pang of anger shot through you, but it was useless. He was a kid. It wasn’t his fault.

You guys shouldn’t have gone to that dinner in the first place.

“What else did he tell you?”

“There are people after you, uh… bad people. You’re running somewhere. That’s all.” You rolled your eyes. “Hey, I swear, okay? I promise you, that’s all I know.”

“Whatever.”

“Hey, no. You can trust me, okay? I’m not going to fuck you over.”

“Do you really expect me to believe that you didn’t know before you called your little friend?”

Steve let out a scoff. “When the hell would I have found out, huh? I drive you back to the cabin, stop at the drugstore to get you some medicine because I thought you needed it, and then drove back to you guys.”

“Why’d you even do that, huh? Why would you offer to drive us? Out of the kindness of your heart?” “YES.” Steve said, loud enough and hard enough that it drew a couple of looks from two of the tables sat near you. You could feel warmth flooding your cheeks, but you ignored it. “As hard as it is for you to believe, I just did it because… you looked scared, alright?”

“What?”

Steve heaved out a sigh as he sat back against the seat. He ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it up. When he started talking, his voice was softer. It sounded almost defeated. “Look, you guys got yourself into some shit. It’s clear that you did. Even without all of this other shit, you guys packing up in a hurry to leave the cabin that you broke into? It’s a little suspicious.”

“So what, you just felt bad for us?” Tee asked, frowning. Steve turned to her and nodded.

“Yeah, I did. Clearly whatever was going on wasn’t cool, and I figured I’d help.” He looked from Tee to you, taking care to meet your gaze. “Or at least, I’d help if you let me.”

“Am I supposed to believe all that?” You asked.

Steve shook his head. “No, I guess not. But I’ve dealt with shit like this before. I’m not the worst person you could have in a fight.” He cracked a little grin. “I only get my ass beat like, half the time. You could do worse.”

You cursed the way your stomach twisted a little at his grin. You kept the frown on your face. “You drive us to where we’re going, and then you leave. It shouldn’t take more than a few hours, tops.”

He bobbed his head in a nod. “Sounds good, boss.”

Tee was staring at you, gaping. You knew it was most likely a bad idea. Despite the fact that you still weren’t getting anything malicious off of him, trusting him wasn’t the best idea. But what alternative did you have? You could try to grab a ride with someone else, but you’d tried that in Ohio.

And it hadn’t turned out well.

Walking was another option, but really, was it a better one? Steve was your best bet to getting there in time. And once you were there, then he’d leave and you guys would make your way to Canada. You would stick to the plan.

The silence settled heavily over the table. Seb was picking at his placemat while Steve drummed his fingers against the table. Tee looked out the window, her gaze flicking from car to car. You, on the other hand, studiously kept your gaze on the door. A few more people had trickled in, mostly truck drivers, but there was one family with six kids. They all fell into the long table across the room. You watched as the mother smoothed out the hair on her daughter, who looked to be around eight or nine, and pressed a kiss against her head before looking over to one of the older sons.

Your throat felt thick.

Eventually the waitress brought over the tray of food, much to Seb’s delight. The awkward silence alleviated a little as Seb twisted around in his seat, practically shaking with excitement. Once all the food was set down, he looked over to you, eyes wide and grinning.

“I’ve never seen this much chocolate!”

Steve chuckled at that, but it died in his throat when you shot him a scowl. After that, everyone tucked into their food. The only thing that could be heard was the sound of chewing. Your eggs and bacon weren’t bad. Good enough, in fact, that you started to pay more attention to your food than the door.

You lifted a slice of bacon to your mouth as the door opened. Glancing over, you expected to see a family or some truckers walk through.

Instead, they were cops.

Two of them, specifically. One lifted his sunglasses off his face, gaze flickering around the room. Your heart stopped.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, making Steve jerk his head up to you.

“What’s wrong?”

“Cops.”

Tee’s shoulders stiffened at that while Seb looked between the two of you. A second passed, and he scooted into your side.

“There’s probably nothing wrong. They’re just here for some food.” But Steve’s voice shook a little. He grabbed for his mug of coffee and lifted it to his lips. His hand trembled.

“What do we do?” Tee asked.

“Nothing,” Steve said. “We’re not doing anything wrong. Just me and my girlfriend taking her brother and sister out for breakfast,” he added that last bit as he gave everyone a pointed look around the table.

“Girlfriend?” You bit out, frowning.

Tee groaned. “Just shut up, El…ise. Who cares?”

You bit back a response and looked down at Seb. “Just don’t say anything if they come over here, okay?” He nodded.

You turned your attention back to the cops, who were talking to the waitress. She was nodding, talking animatedly, and then looked in the direction of your table. The cops turned around to follow her gaze, and one made eye contact with you. You ducked your head as they looked back to the waitress.

“They looked over here,” you murmured, your heart beating out of your rib cage. Fuck. Steve gave a nod of his head and downed his coffee while Tee sat still, her back rigid.

“So what’d you think of that Queen album?” Steve asked out of nowhere. His voice was light as he settled back into his seat. “I can’t believe you haven’t heard them. Have you been living under a rock or what?”

“What?” You asked, caught off guard. There was a note in his tone that hadn’t been there before. It was hard to describe, but it was doing a number on your insides.

“I’m just saying it’s kind of weird,” he said as he leaned in. He rested his arms on the table as he smirked. “But seriously, what’d you think of it?”

You risked a glance to the cops. A couple a few tables down called them over. “What are you doing?” You hissed as you turned your attention back to Steve.

“Getting you to relax. You look suspicious as hell.” His voice was low, but he said it in a conversational tone. “So, tell me — what’d you think?”

“It was… It was good.” It was better than good, really. Some songs had made you want to cry while others had been so fast and loud that you wanted to play them over and over again.

“So you liked it, then?”

You sighed. “Why do you care?” This was not the conversation that should be happening. They needed to figure out how to get out of there, how to handle the situation. What if they weren’t even cops? What if they were working with Brenner?

Tee choking on her coffee brought you back to the present. Steve was looking at you expectantly, like he’d said something important and was waiting for you to respond.

“Huh?”

“I just said that I like it when pretty girls like the same music as me.” The smirk that he shot you was just downright wrong as your mouth hung open.

“That’s quite a line, son.” The voice came from your right. When you looked over, you were eye-to-eye with a holstered handgun.

“I try my hardest, officer.” Steve looked up at the cops and grinned. “She says she hates it when I call her pretty, but… You know.” He shrugged. You risked a glance at the two men, tilting your head up to get a good look at them.

The one officer laughed. “That your BMW in the parking lot, son?” Steve bobbed his head. “You know it’s double-parked, right?”

“I did not, officer. Would you like me to move it?” He asked, the picture-perfect upstanding citizen.

“No, son. It’ll be fine until you four leave. Just watch where you’re parking next time.” While the first officer was talking, the second one — who looked a lot younger than the first — was eyeing you up.

“Where are you four heading?” He asked.

“Camping,” Steve said.

“Swimming,” Tee said.

“The store,” you said.

The officers stared at three of you. The older officer narrowed his eyes a little. “What was that?”

“We’re going to the store, then heading out to go camping and swimming,” Steve said. He was speaking a little too fast. The officers stared at him, for awhile.

“Where did you four say you were from?” “We didn’t!” Seb said, piping up.

Shit.

“Where are you from then, kid?” The younger officer took on a patronizing tone, but Seb didn’t pick up on it.

“We’re from, uh, Muncie.”

Both officers paused. “Muncie, you said?” The older one asked.

Seb nodded his head as he shoveled more pancakes into his face.

The officers looked over the four of you and nodded their heads. “Well, you four have fun camping.” With that, they headed out of the restaurant. Pausing to talk to the waitress that had seated them, they spoke in hushed tones and pointed directly at your table. A minute later, they were out the door and heading to their patrol car.

They got inside, but didn’t pull away.

“Fuck,” Steve breathed out. “That was close.”

“We need to leave,” you said before cramming some more bacon into your mouth. You wrapped your hand around Seb’s wrist and started to tug him out of the booth.

“What’s going on? They left.”

“But they’re not leaving,” Tee explained, horror filling her tone. She started pushing at Steve to get out of the booth.

“Wait, what?”

“Runaways from Muncie, you think?” Tee asked, ignoring Steve’s questions. You nodded your head. The four of you began to dart towards the doorway, only to be stopped by the waitress.

“Now you four know you can’t eat and not pay, right?” At that, Steve shoved a handful of bills at her. You were positive there was way more than what you owed. “Just — those nice officers asked if you four would stick around for a minute. So just — HEY!”

As soon as she’d mentioned the officers, the four of you started to barrel through the door and sprint to Steve’s car. One officer got out of the patrol vehicle and started yelling.

“You four! Stop!”

“Get in the car! Go! Go!” Steve yelled, scrambling to get his keys out of his pocket. Tee made it to the car first and swung the door open before hopping in the backseat. She pulled the seat back as well, making it easier for you to slide in. You pulled Seb in too and his sneaker scraped against your knee as he tried to clamber into the back.

In the meantime, Steve had managed to get into the car but his hands were shaking so hard he couldn’t get the key into the ignition.

“Steve,” you snapped. You leaned over and wrapped your fingers around his wrist tight, guiding the key into the ignition. He turned to you, eyes wide and mouth parted open. His head was closer to yours than you’d realized. “Steve, drive!”

Your words snapped him out of whatever reverie he was going through and within seconds he was peeling out of the parking lot. Lights from the cop car were visible in the mirror, but Steve slammed his foot onto the gas and pulled ahead.

It took awhile, but after four backroads and thirty minutes, you were alone on the road.

Steve glanced over to you and let out a sigh. “So, where are we headed?”

• • •

It had taken a little longer than you’d thought to get there. Steve had driven down a few extra backroads just to make sure that no one was following you, and had to pull over twice. The first was to grab the map that you’d had since everyone had split up after Montauk, and the second was to let Seb pee.

You didn’t let yourself think about the day that you’d stolen a bunch of maps from the dollar store. You didn’t let yourself remember how everyone had crowded around you as you’d written the directions on the back, the directions that Doctor Arayed had told you burned into your brain.

You didn’t let yourself think about how you cried after everyone had left.

Instead, you focused on the way your heart began to thud as you told Steve to make the next right. Steve glanced over to you, lips pressed together into a small line. This was fine. Everything would be fine. They’d be there waiting for you, just like you agreed. There was nothing to worry about.

Your heart may beat right out of your chest, but it’d be okay.

Seb was babbling on about how excited he was to get there only to be shushed by Tee.

“Sorry,” you heard him whisper. If he was whispering loud enough for you to hear, then so could Steve. “I just wanna see the others.”

At that, Steve turned his whole head to look at you. Your eyes flickered towards his before looking back out the window. He already knew too much. You needed to ask Seb just what he’d told Jane. Usually he was so good about that stuff that you forgot that he was still just a kid. Then again, maybe Jane had thrown him off.

Jane and her tattoo.

It made sense for them to have more than one lab. But if she was safe there, did that mean that the lab had been taken care of? Internally, you cursed yourself. You should have asked her more questions, gotten more information.

“Rookie mistake,” Alex’s voice floated through your mind, a mix of the probably thousands of times that he’d said that to you over the years.

Asking Steve was technically an option, but it was one you weren’t going to take. Having an entire conversation about this with him was the last thing you wanted.

Steve rounded a corner and there it was. You sucked in a deep breath. Most of the windows were shattered. Grass was growing in between the concrete of the parking lot. The paint that marked the parking spots was faded. Graffiti marked the walls.

It looked as though no one had been there in years.

“Park a little bit away from the warehouse,” you murmured.

Steve hummed a quiet ‘mhmmm’ and pulled up a couple hundred feet from it.

“You want some company?”

You turned your head towards him as he spoke, already opening your mouth to disagree with whatever he was going to say. When you registered his question, your answer was immediate.

“No.”

“Look, whatever’s going on, it can’t be safe, right? So wouldn’t it make sense for someone to head in with you? I’ve even got a weapon in the trunk.”

“You’ve got a gun?”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Not exactly.”

You sighed. “Look, you’re right. Whatever’s going on, it’s not safe. But if shit hits the fan, then someone needs to stay behind to get those two out of here.”

“You think something bad’s going to happen?” Tee asked. Her voice suddenly sounded small, a tinge of fear radiating off of her. You twisted around in your seat to face her.

“I think it’s going to work out.” Your voice was strong despite your worry. “But we need to be safe, right? Whatever happens, you two stay safe.” You turned back to Steve, watching him for a second before reaching for the handle.

It was hot out. The sun was beating down on you as you stepped out of the car. You shut the door behind you, jumping when a second door shut just a few seconds later. You whipped around, scowling as Steve leaned against his car.

“Calm down. I’m just stretching my legs.”

You wanted to make some sarcastic remark, or a joke, or anything that would make it seem like you weren’t as scared as you. But all you did was jerk your head into a nod and turn around, taking a few steps towards the building before you stopped.

Deep breath in.

Hold it for a few seconds.

Let it out, nice and slow.

It wasn’t that there was something ominous lingering in the air. Despite it not even being ten in the morning, the sun was already burning high up in the sky, making everything humid The warehouse was right where you’d known it would be, a ways off the highway, abandoned years ago. By all measures, it was normal.

But something was off.

Everyone had agreed to stick around until the fourth of July. It would be busy enough to leave together, to look like a group of kids just messing around during a holiday. It wouldn’t be difficult then, to make your way up to the border and cross into Canada.

July 4th was a week away, though, and it was quiet. You weren’t picking up anything from the warehouse. You could feel Seb’s swirl of annoyance at being left behind, Tee’s apprehension at having to wait around, and Steve’s… concern.

You forced yourself to take another step. Everything was fine. They’d just taken a while longer to get there. It made sense.

It was fine.

Your hands shook as you reached the door. With a shove, it gave way and opened into the warehouse. The air was instantly cooler, the shadowy building smelling a bit musty as you stepped inside.

You waited a beat, and then — “Hello? Anyone here?”

It was quiet. You turned to your left, spotting a staircase that led up to the second level. Pressing your lips together, you turned around to poke your head out of the door.

“Anything?” Steve called from his spot against his car.

You shook your head. “No, I’m heading in. Stay out ‘til I yell for you.”

Stepping back in, you let yourself get a better look at the inside of the building. It was mostly empty, save for a few rusted machines that must have been too big to move when the place was shut down. There were some workbenches that were coated in dust. Stepping over to one of them, you noticed that there were certain areas where the dust had been smeared around, almost like someone had rested their hand there.

Your heart soared. They’d been there. They might not be there at that very moment, but they’d been there.

“Hey, you guys here?” You yelled, this time louder than you’d yelled before. Still, it was quiet. No answer.

That was fine. Maybe they’d left for whatever reason, but there was still a week out. They could come back. Maybe they’d taken the day to explore, or to venture out and grab supplies, even if it would’ve looked weird to see that many kids buying food.

You turned around and headed to the stairs. Your steps echoed in the room, making you feel a little smaller. It’d probably get cool at night. You wondered if they’d grabbed blankets, or at least coats from somewhere to keep warm.

You reached the stairs, laying your hand on the railing as your foot hit the step. Your fingers wrapped around the cool metal, but you jerked it away when you felt something wet stick to your skin. Jerking your hand away, you stared at your palm.

It was dark, whatever it was. You brought it closer to your face. “Could be a little lighter in here,” you mumbled, trying to make out what it was. Bringing your hand to your nose, you inhaled and gagged.

It was metallic.

“Fuck.”

You turned around as you said the word and darted for the door. You stuck your hand outside, making sure to keep your palm turned away from the car.

“Everything okay?” Steve yelled.

“Yeah.” The word was choked out and definitely a lie, but all you could do was stare at the red color that was across your hand. “Stay by the car.”

Running back inside, you ran for the stairs. You blinked a couple of times to force your eyes to adjust, and that’s when you noticed it. In the shadows of the warehouse, you couldn’t make out the redness, but you could see the stark differences between the metal and the blood.

Your gaze followed it from the wall to the stairs, shifting from a splatter to just… everywhere. It was mostly dried out, except for the areas where it was darker.

Where the blood had pooled.

“Shit.”

The panic began to well up in your throat as you pushed yourself up the steps. There were footprints marked by dried blood. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t function, you couldn’t —

You tripped over something firm as you reached the top of the stairs. Knees hitting the floor, you let out a grunt as your palms braced your fall. Your eyes slipped shut for a moment as you caught your breath. A second later and you opened them, only to see blood. A lot of it. Enough blood that some of it was still sticky, still wet. It stuck to your fingers as you pushed yourself onto your knees, making bile rise up in your throat. You forced yourself to swallow as you raised your eyes, your heart thumping in your chest as you saw them.

Bodies.

Everywhere.

• • •

please reblog/like/comment/send me an ask with your thoughts!

• • •

okay, so i totally don’t remember everyone that was on the taglist, but i’ve got some listed. hit me up if you want to be added!

taglist: @billysdacreforrats @strangerstuffandthingsimagines @stevieharrrr @nugturally @letmeletmetrashyourlove @nightowleli @jodibullock1

#steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things 3 #steve harrington/reader #stranger things/reader #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfic

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alarawriting · 5 years

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Inktober #19: Sling

Here’s a scene I alluded to in “Dr. Ultraviolet Meets Her Nemesis” (again, lack of functional website, cannot link because that makes the post unsearchable, but you can click on the tag to find the rest of what I’ve got for Dr. Ultraviolet.)

***

“What exactly is this… stuff?” Ultraviolet asked her sister, with a sneer that she hoped was making it clear she could be using stronger language.

“You asked for books,” Scarlett said, “so I brought you some of mine.”

Ultraviolet tried to count to 10, but Scarlett interrupted at 4. “I think you might really like Chiaoscuro. It’s about a superheroine who falls in love with a magnetic, charismatic villain—”

“It’s a romance novel,” Ultraviolet said.

“Yes. I know they weren’t your favorites but—”

“I despise romance novels,” Ultraviolet said. “Would it have truly killed you to go to a bookstore and get me something I might possibly enjoy, rather than just bringing me whatever dreck you happened to have lying around on your bookshelf?”

“There aren’t any bookstores around here. Everest drove them all out of business. I could have ordered from them, but they’re evil.”

Ultraviolet happened to know that this was absolutely true. The last time she’d been invited to attend the Villainy Connection yearly networking event for supervillains, Everest’s CEO Josh Bevel had been the keynote speaker. Given that she herself was a supervillain, this was hardly a dealbreaker for her. “Libraries exist, then. And what about used book stores?”

“Look, I went out of my way to do you a favor, Violet,” Scarlett said. “It’s not like I don’t have a lot going on. I’ve got four kids, the economy’s been slowing down and people aren’t buying houses so much lately, and I’ve been having issues with Gavin.”

From long experience with her sister, Ultraviolet knew that Scarlett wanted her to ask about her issues with Gavin, but Ultraviolet would have had difficulty caring less. “How hard is it to bring me a book that isn’t a godawful romance novel? Do I look like the kind of suburban mom who’s wasted her life dreaming of some Mr. Wonderful sweeping her off her feet?”

“It sounds like you’re saying that’s what I am.”

“The shoes don’t just fit, Scarlett, they’re on sale and you have ten pairs in your closet.”

“Fuck you, Violet. I didn’t need to come here. You know, the doctors told me you were in traction and you broke an arm and both legs and you might have fractured a vertebra in your neck, and I was worried about you.”

Ultraviolet sighed. “I appreciate that you were worried—”

“And I didn’t just bring you romance novels. This one, All The Pretty Little Horsies, is about the hunt for a serial killer.”

“What made you think I was interested in true crime, either?” They were in a private ward, but the door was open, nurses bustling around outside, so Ultraviolet didn’t say what she really wanted to, which was “I’m a supervillain, my life is a true crime story, why would I want to read about cops hunting a criminal down?” Admittedly there was a huge difference between her genius and ambitions to reshape the world in the image she wanted, and a mundane serial killer getting his jollies by killing teenage girls or something, but on principle Ultraviolet did not want to be sympathizing with cops.

“Well, it’s kind of like what you do for your career, right?”

Ultraviolet couldn’t control the exasperation in her sigh. “Only in the sense that your career involves selling people haunted houses where evil brownies will crawl out of the walls at night and devour them.”

“That… has nothing to do with what I do.”

“I rest my case.”

“Usually I don’t even sell the houses! I prefer being a buyer’s agent. The seller gets money at closing, but the buyer gets a new future. A place that’s going to change their way of life. Something that might be an anchor, a touchstone for them for the rest of their lives.”

“Scarlett. I don’t care. The point is, I’m not a serial killer, I’m nothing like a serial killer, and we are not in the same line of work. I am a scientist.”

“I thought you were an inventor.”

“I am. I’m an inventor and a scientist. All the greatest inventors were scientists.”

“Thomas Edison wasn’t.”

“Thomas Edison was a liar and a thief who stole everything he did from Nikola Tesla, among others.”

“Henry Ford—”

“—wasn’t even an inventor. Dear lord, Scarlett, what did they teach you in school?”

Scarlett glared at her. “You went to the same school.”

“Yes, but I didn’t learn anything there. Everything I learned was self-study. I didn’t actually pay attention in class.”

“Then how do you know that what they taught me was wrong?”

Ultraviolet glanced up at her IV bag, which was full, and at the clock, which was stubbornly nowhere near the end of visiting hours. “Get me some books about scientists. Preferably books where scientists are right, and everyone else is wrong, and all the people who are wrong get eaten by dinosaurs, and the scientists get to say ‘I told you so’ and end up very wealthy.”

“That’s… really specific.”

“It doesn’t have to be dinosaurs. The people who are wrong could get eaten by aliens. Or viruses.”

“I don’t even know how I’d find a book like that.”

“You’d ask at the library, you heathen. Don’t you read?”

“Yes!” Scarlett snapped. “I read a lot of things! Among them, romance novels and true crime, which are apparently not intellectual enough for the great Doctor Ultraviolet to want to sully her eyeballs—”

“Scarlett! Secret identity!” Ultraviolet whispered in a loud hiss.

“No one’s paying attention.”

“Captain Cosmic knows he dropped me. I wouldn’t put it past him to be searching the local hospitals.”

Cosmic had been trying to fly her to the Max, the ultra-secure supervillain prison that so far, no one had managed to break out of. Ultraviolet had used her nanobot lubricant on him to force him to drop her, without perhaps fully considering the fact that they were a thousand feet in the air by the time it took effect. With lubricant in his eyes and covering his hands, Cosmic couldn’t even see her to catch her, and when he’d flailed around by accident and grabbed her foot by trying to figure out where the screaming was coming from, he hadn’t been able to hold on. She’d had to use her prototype antigravity device to save herself, and it hadn’t had enough power to prevent her from hitting the ground hard enough to break most of her limbs, several ribs, and possibly her neck.

She’d already been in traction for two days, completely immobilized – chest taped, head in a neck brace, legs mummified and hanging from pulleys on poles attached to her bed, arm in a sling. She was bored out of her mind. The only entertainment the hospital offered was a television, and just hearing the sounds of daytime game shows and soap operas and Judge Jeri made her want to kill everyone in the hospital, or at the very least her immediate neighbors on the ward who wouldn’t stop watching that crap. Actually having to see it herself might make her brain fatally overheat with rage.

So when her sister had called and offered to visit, Ultraviolet had begged her to bring books, to alleviate the horrible boredom. But this… dreck wasn’t worth the name “book”. It was a bound collection of paper, containing letters arranged into words that had been assembled to produce some sort of simulation of syntactical meaning, that was all.

“I think if Captain Cosmic was here, there would be a lot more shrieking, and people begging for his autograph.”

“He has a secret identity too. He could be walking right past us dressed as a nurse and you would never guess.”

Scarlett sighed. “All right. I’m sorry I said it, Violet. But you need to stop acting like, just because you’re a genius, everything you don’t like or don’t approve of is stupid. And you could be a little bit grateful. I drove way out of my way to visit you.”

“I’m sure your conscience would have nagged at you if you hadn’t.”

“I tell you what. I’ll go to the library and get your books about scientists, and I’ll bring them by tomorrow.”

“That would be suitable.”

“And I’ll bring Alan. He’s sixteen, so he’s allowed to visit, and I’m sure he’d be thrilled to see his aunt and explain the plot of Battle Island to you, or Kraftwerk, or one of those other video games he’s obsessed with.”

“No! Scarlett, I’m not interested in listening to your offspring prattle on about whatever degenerate pastime has caught his fancy.”

“And I’m not interesting in helping a bitchy older sister who can’t even say thank you, but I’d feel bad about leaving you here all alone. So I’ll bring Alan to entertain you.” Scarlett smiled widely. “I’ll tell him that you’re feeling cranky because you’re in pain, so he should ignore any rude thing you say to him. Since you’d be incapable of asking him to stop politely, I guess that means Alan’s going to have a captive audience tomorrow.”

“Scarlett!”

“See you tomorrow, sis!” Scarlett caroled, and left the room, leaving Ultraviolet to fume about the unfairness of it all. If only she could get decent henches, she could get someone to transport her to her base, where her rapid regeneration machine could heal her within minutes. But no, the union had blacklisted her, and you couldn’t trust non-union henches. Totally unfair. Every other villain had henches lining up around the block – even the ones who routinely shot their own employees. But you mutate the henchmen into anthropomorphic sharks one time… and now, because of that idiot Captain Cosmic and because of the moronic Henchman’s Union, Scarlett was going to force her to listen to her oldest child ramble on about whatever stupid garbage he was in love with right now.

If she could only reach her crutches, she’d get out of this bed and hobble out of the hospital right now.

#inktober 2019 #dr ultraviolet #supers

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peachywise · 5 years

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nullify part 2

an umbrella academy fanfiction // klaus hargreeves x reader

- part ii: the broken alarm clock || ⋆ part i ⋆ part iii ⋆ part iv ⋆ part v ⋆ part vi ⋆ more parts to be released

- synopsis: You've heard of people having rude awakenings before, but you'd never actually experienced one yourself. That was until Klaus Hargreeves broke into your apartment, banging pots and breaking your clocks. This idiot just can't seem to go away.

- notes: wow, okay thanks for all the love so far on this guys!! I hope you enjoy part two. originally this had a lot more but it got a bit too long, so I cut it in half. part three will be up pretty soon. let me know if you want on the tag list. tw in this one for swearing, fire, and mild violence.

link on ao3

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Dreams have a funny way of making unconscious fears rear their god-forsaken heads in all too terrifying ways.

You’d been plagued by a particular nightmare for years, ever since you were a kid. It used to occur every night when things had been particularly bad, making your already so cruel waking days extend longer with sleep that should have been a type of escape. Now it only happened when you felt exhausted or anxious. Sometimes both. Okay, mostly both. You should have taken some comfort in the familiarity of the dream given the particular instability of your life, but alas, it was what it was.

And it was complete and utter horse shit.

It always started the same. You woke up in your childhood bedroom cluttered with crayon drawings and clothes scattered about, everything caught on fire like juvenile kindling. Your flannel pajama pants—the ones with the ugly looking green bunnies you thought were hilarious— had just caught a bit of the flame, burning away the fabric and charring and licking the skin of your leg, bubbling and making an awful smell. You barely managed to smack it out with your pillow before forcing your too adolescent and unstable force field up.

This was when the dream would begin to differ. Sometimes different things or people trailed into the room, watching you as you watched them, the house crumbling down to burning decay and ash while you sat crying in your little bubble, sweating and straining to keep it up and full. Sometimes they talked. Other times they didn’t. As you got older, anger tended to mix in with the panic and desperation you’d felt in the situation, aimed at whatever or whoever you believed had caused the flames.

Tonight, this dream's starring opponent stood all too close to you while you struggled and wailed. Reginald Hargreeves towered over your cowered figure, but your gaze wasn’t on him. No, your eyes fixated on the uniform-clad Five and the Cheshire grinning, kohl-lined eyed Klaus behind him who greeted you with an irritatingly ironic, “hey, hot stuff.”

Odd. You’d never felt both terrified and annoyed in these dreams before.

“It’s time for you to wake up.”

Well, that was new too.

“W-what?” You sputtered out, slightly loosening the death grip tight around your legs, eyes searching Klaus as his voice ringed louder and clearer than the haze and blaze of the fire.

“Come on, wake up!” Klaus yelled again, pushing Reginald away as he stepped up closer to your bubble, close enough to burst it.

And then your eyes cracked open, and your nightmare followed you into consciousness as one of your larger pots was placed so close to your face that you nearly smacked into it on time to the wooden spoon Klaus was already rhythmically slapping it with, hollering repeatedly as he did, “wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up!”

No one could blame you for your knee jerk reaction. Any sane person would have reached over for their alarm clock and hit the person who broke into their apartment over the head like you just did now. No one would also blame you for screaming. Your brain hadn’t even registered yet that it was Klaus who loomed over you. It was a fucking jarring way to wake up, for Christ’s sake.

Klaus immediately dropped the pot and spoon to grab his head, yelling out an overdramatic, “ow!” Too bad the pot landed with a hard thud on your stomach, causing the air to rush out of you and a groggy groan to leave your still panicked body in unharmonized synchronization with his howl of pain.

The now broken alarm clock which stopped ticking in your hand probably would have let out a cry of pain too if it could. But it was dead. Klaus was going to be too in a moment.

“Look what you did!” You shouted, throwing the sheets off your body as you scrambled off your mattress, nearly tripping on your feet as you did. Shoving the clock in his face, you continued with, “you broke my clock!” using your other hand to subtly clear the sleep out of your eyes.

“I broke your clock? You broke my head!” Klaus bellowed back, gripping his forehead in a way you thought was just a little too theatrical.

Shoving his arm, your face furrowed in an aggravated frown as you grumbled out an exasperated, “and you broke into my apartment. I win. What’s next, want to break my sink as well? Go ahead, you’d be doing me a favour. It’s the only way the landlords going to come look at my shitty plumbing.”

“Oh, of course, pleasure to be of service,” sarcasm dripped from his tone, similarly to how the blood dripped on your clean carpet from the cut in his head when he removed his hand to give an equally as sardonic curtsey your way.

Great.

Turning to grab a handful of the Kleenex from your bedside table, you hurriedly reached up and pressed it to his head to stop any further damage befalling your security deposit. “stop bleeding on my stuff,” you swore. “Come on, let’s go to my bathroom.”

“First you hit me, and then want a morning triste in the bathroom?” Klaus tisked. “My my. You’re a little wildcat, aren’t you? I like it.”

You tried to ignore the fact he just followed up that comment with a growling noise like he was one of those creepy men in old 70’s movies, but you couldn’t. Instead, you decided not to take the moral high ground and flicked his cut over where you still had the Kleenex pressed. A pathetic exclamation of “hey!” brought a smug smile to your face.

“Come on, sit down. Let me see if I have anything to clean that up with,” you muttered, ushering him to sit on the lid of your closed toilet seat, grabbing his hand and putting it on the Kleenex-gauzed wound before bending down to rummage through the cabinet under the sink. “Want to tell me how you got in and why you’re here in the first place?” Sudden dread coursed through you as images of what else he could have broken flashed in your mind. Turning back around with wide eyes, you implored, “please tell me my front door isn’t hanging off its hinges.”

“Well you certainly think highly of me,” he uttered back, sniffling loudly as he slouched forward, eyes momentarily flashing behind you before quickly glancing your way again. “Your door is perfectly intact. But you really should lock the window on your fire escape. There are some nasty creatures out there. If you don’t watch out the boogeyman might get ya.”

Of course, he fucking climbed through the window. You bet he didn’t even try the door first, knocking or breaking in. His first instinct was to just climb up and—

Wait.

“I keep that unlocked because the ladder up to the fire escape is broken and I’m on the third floor. Did you bring your own ladder just to get in here? Forget the boogeyman, I’ve got a real life psycho sitting on my toilet. Did you happen to bring a knife too? Let me just get in the shower really fast and you can fulfill your Norman Bates fantasy. ”

“I mean, if you’re offering to get in the shower,” Klaus started, but before you could whack him on his wound again, it seemed like an invisible force slapped him upside the head, jerking him forward as he gave what was now his third cry of pain in under ten minutes. You were so shocked that you fell back on your butt, eyes frantically searching for whatever had made your thoughts turn into action. This wasn’t your power, right? You couldn’t do that. You didn’t want that. You would have a panic attack if—

“Christ on a cracker, Ben! It was only a joke! Death has made you so sensitive.”

Oh thank God, it was just a ghost.

Klaus sneered as his eyes glanced up at what was seemingly air in front of him as he had a conversation with his… invisible? Yeah, sure. Let’s go with his ‘invisible’ brother. “I am just being my perfectly charming self.” He paused, face reacting to whatever Ben must have said as he made the most melodramatic eye roll you had ever laid witness too. It was a little impressive, actually. Not that’d you mention it. No, you just watched the sideshow in front of you play on in jarred, mildly entertained, fascinated silence.

“I am not scaring ‘em off—” another pause, another exasperated shake of his head. “You don’t think I know that? I know we need them. If I go back there alone, our baby assassins going to shoot my balls off!”

Baby assassin? What, is like the new tickle me Elmo? If he was trying to ease Ben’s concerns, he was doing a terrible job of increasing yours while he did it.

As Klaus continued yelling, rambling on certain obscenities in the direction of your wallpaper peeled wall, you sat back up and turned back to your cabinet, pushing various bottle beside until you found the peroxide and cotton pads. Standing back up, you walked over to Klaus and swatted your hand in front of him, hoping to diffuse whatever argument had since gotten boring and headache inducing in your mind.

“As much as I’ve enjoyed this episode of Caspar the slap-happy ghost versus his dipshit brother, can you guys shut up long enough for me to clean this cut and get you the hell out of my apartment?”

Klaus immediately closed his mouth as both eyebrows shot up. Glancing over your shoulder one last time, he stage whispered to ghost boy, “they’re so touchy.”

Reaching over, you took the Kleenex from his hand to toss it in the trash, noting how the cut had stopped bleeding. Grabbing his chin, you wordlessly tilted his face up, angling it slightly towards the bathroom’s fluorescent light, leaning in closer to inspect it.

“Looks superficial. It’s fine” you stated, letting go of his face as you twisted the cap off the peroxide bottle, tilting it to soak one of the cotton pads.

“Well which is it, am I superficial or am I fine?” He quipped back, a lazy smile curving his lips.

Deadpanning, you replied, “you’re a pain,” before unceremoniously pressing the cotton pad to the cut maybe a bit too hard. Klaus once again winced in pain as he inhaled a sharp intake of breath, jerking his head away.

Well, make that four cries of pain now in under ten minutes. If it happened one more time, you wondered if you’d get a prize.

“Such cute pajamas for someone so utterly devilish,” he jibed, reaching out a hand to absently pluck the sleeve of your brightly blue coloured flannel. You slapped his hand away and he pouted like a child scorned. Oh, boo hoo.

Pressing the cotton pad back to his forehead, a little softer this time, Klaus visibly relaxed as you cleaned the wound. “You never answered my questions. Seriously, how did you get up that fire escape?”

“Well, if you haven’t figured it out yet, my darling brother has recently acquired the art of physical touch. I climbed on to his shoulders.”

Pausing, your eyes bugged out a bit as you turned your gaze to his. You never thought about that being possible. You’d always just been worried about one robber. Fuckin’ idiot. “I should really lock that window, huh?” Klaus snorted in affirmation.

As you finished clearing the blood from his pale skin, you leaned slightly back to inspect that it looked fine. “I don’t have a Band-Aid, but I think you’ll survive.”

Klaus held up a finger, an amused look flashing in his eyes as he used his other hand to dig through too-tight leather pants pocket. Standing up as he pulled a band-aid wrapper out, you watched as he made his way over to the mirror above your sink, ripping it open and putting on a very pink, and very floral, Hello Kitty Band-Aid.

Twirling back around, he raised both hands up and motioned towards his new accessory, asking, “what do you think?”

You were quiet for a moment, then you nodded. “I think that makes sense.” Klaus grinned.

As both of you made your way back out of your bathroom and into your shoe box sized slightly messy bedroom, you crossed your arms over your chest and leaned back against the wall. Klaus made himself feel at home as he poked around the various knick knacks. “Seriously, why are you here Klaus?”

“Have you suffered a bout of amnesia since last night?” He questioned, turning a sideways glance your way before he continued on his little expedition of your things. “I’m here to bring you to meet the rest of our happy family. Five thought you would be more willing to come with me than him.”

“And here I was thinking he had some semblance of intelligence,” you muttered, pushing yourself off your wall to go nudge him out of the way when he moved to go open one of your drawers. Why would Five think you’d be more willing to go with homeless Mick Jagger? You’d only met him once. You’d only met both of them once, in fact.

“Well you’re not exactly kicking and screaming to get me out of your apartment now, are you?” Klaus almost purred, brushing a hand across your shoulder as he swirled behind you, beginning his snooping once again. “In fact, it seems like someone was all too willing to play nurse to a cut I easily could have cleaned myself.” Picking up a picture frame from your bedside table, an odd look crossed his face before you snatched it from his hands, setting it face down. Now you were getting irritated. Whether it was with him, or yourself given the unnerving truth of his statement, you didn’t exactly want to delve into it at the moment.

“You bled on my carpet. I couldn’t trust that you wouldn’t bleed on the rest of my things before you managed to do a shitty patch job,” you replied easily back, averting your gaze from his as you took a few steps away.

Klaus made an elusive ‘hmm’ noise in the back of his throat. And then he flopped on to your bed, leaning back against the headboard as he grabbed your fuzzy white blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders and throwing it over his head like a cloak, curling into it as he contentedly smiled, “cozy.”

You picked up your pillow and tossed it at his face.

“Look, you guys can’t just barge into my life and expect me to go along with whatever this is. I’ve spent a good part of my life trying to stay out your way praying I never meet your dear old dad. Now if you’ll excuse me, today’s my day off and I intend to spend it quietly alone in my empty apartment.”

“Our dad? This had nothing to do with him,” he said, sitting up straighter as he dropped the blanket off his head, studying your face with a slight tilt to his head. Looking at him in silence, you rolled your hand in a ‘come on’ to signify for him to continue and stop being so freaking elusive.

“We need your help to stop the end of the world.” Then he threw his arms up with jazz hands, excitedly saying, “isn’t that so much fun?

Huh.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you gave a curt nod before twisting around, picking your phone off your receiver as you began dialing a number.

“Who are you calling?”

“The cops.”

Boy, was he also the Flash? You had never seen someone move so fast in your life. Ripping the phone from your hand, he slammed it back down on the base then gripped both your shoulders, pushing you away from it as he completely crowded himself in your personal space. Slight alarm skittering across his eyes. “Come on, is that really necessary? I’m not playing around.”

“Why should I believe you? Trust you?” you shot back, shrugging off his grip as you folded your arms around yourself. “As fun as you are to banter with, this is fucking crazy! You guys knew what I could do. You guys knew where I worked, where I live, what my name is! Now you say you need my help saving the world? Calling the cops seems like the natural progression of how this interaction should go on my side.” Jesus, where you hyperventilating? Where was that phone? You had to get that phone.

Klaus crouched lower to your height, arms stretched out like he was trying to calm a wild deer. Bitch. “Okay sweetheart, you need to calm down for just a second,” he soothed, and you couldn’t help but exhale a short, unamused laugh. “You know us, you know what we do. Or at least what we did. The Umbrella Academy isn’t some mastermind organization, we were just a group of kids brought together by a man with a god complex who so desperately tried to mold us into those bullshit cliché, good Samaritan superheroes. We’re fucked up, but we wouldn’t just come after an innocent like you for no reason. You have free will in this, okay? All I’m doing is asking, not telling you to come. Just let me take you to everyone. Five can explain this all better than I can.” He took your continued silence as an opportunity to continue his point, adding in, “you can even bring your clock as a weapon if it makes you feel more comfortable. You’re a real danger with that thing.”

As much as you hated to admit it, he was pretty convincing. If they had wanted to hurt you, if they had wanted to use you, you had no doubt they would have forced it upon you by now. From what you had learned, it seemed nearly all of them had been estranged from their dad for a while now. Vanya’s book had been pretty enlightening on the horrors that had occurred in that house, at least from her view point. So if Reginald was the one pulling their strings, then he was pulling their strings unbeknownst to them.

It also didn’t help that your curiosity was piqued. You always loved a good mystery.

“Alright,” you conceded, letting your arms fall back down to your sides. Klaus let out a long breath of air and happily grasped his hands in front of him, jokingly singing as he did, “Darling, you’ve made me the happiest man in the world!”

“Under one condition.”

“Oh, I was so close,” he sulked immediately under his breath, dropping his hands.

“You have to promise me that I can leave. Like no strings attached, I can drop off mid-conversation and slam the door on my way out, type of leave. I’m only there to hear what he has to say, ask some questions, and that’s it. I haven’t decided to help you guys.”

Raising his hand out, he gave you a knowing smile as he extended his pinky finger. “I promise,” he droned. Heaving a sigh, you lifted your hand to wrap your pinky around his in a child-like binding promise. He was lucky he had such sincere eyes.

Letting go, you took a tiny step back as you cleared your throat, feeling uncomfortable with the odd tension you now wanted so desperately to melt. “Well, get out. You and Ben. Let me change and then you can take me to your master, or whatever.”

“My master?” Klaus gasped, as you herded him over the threshold of your door. “Five is a child. I am clearly more superior.”

Giving a tight smile, you quirked your eyebrow up. “You sure about that? I got the impression yesterday that you’re more like his fun loving, but pitifully dim witted henchmen,” you replied, then swung the door shut in his face before he could have the last word.

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy fanfic #the umbrella academy fanfiction #klaus hargreeves #klaus hargreeves fanfic #klaus hargreeves fanfiction #klaus hargreeves x reader #five #five hargreeves #tua #klaus hargreeves imagine #diego hargreeves #luther hargreeves #allison hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #ben hargreeves

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awashsquid · 5 years

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Part 3 of @sittingoverheredreaming‘s commission series! Group post is here, if you want to catch up (which I recommend doing before this chapter!). This part is right around 2400 words. If you like it, thank Sam for commissioning it, reblog, leave a comment - y’all know the drill :) If you’re interested in commissioning me, click on this handy lil link!

Haruka had returned in a matter of minutes after Hotaru’s exit, so quickly that Michiru wondered aloud how they had not ran into each other in the hall, to which Haruka just shrugged. The nurse had acquiesced to lowering Michiru’s pain medications, and she could feel the fog dissipating from her vision. Though this should have been a relief, the intense pain of her wounds healing at accelerated speeds acted as a hot knife, slicing and searing through each agonizing moment. She could taste blood on her bottom lip from biting down to hold in a scream when a particularly bad wave had hit, the coppery aftertaste lingering even after the wound had stopped bleeding.

After a few minutes of Haruka whispering reassurances from beside her, Michiru began to regain enough sense to fill her in on the updates from Hotaru. The act of explaining kept her mind somewhat distracted from the sensation of her bones knitting back together, and Haruka seemed to sense this as she quietly listened, simply nodding when Michiru would pause.

“And thus, here we are,” Michiru concluded, the somehow still perfect manicure on her left hand digging deeply into her palm as she clenched her hand into a fist from the pain. “The handful of us against Serenity, with Mercury at her back besides.” The pain mercifully dulled to an acute throb - impossible to ignore, but more manageable as her body and mind adjusted to its presence. “Will you join us in killing the would-be Queen? Of ensuring that Crystal Tokyo never comes to pass?”

There was barely a pause before Haruka’s answer came, delivered with a small smile. “Michi, you don’t even have to ask. You know I would follow you anywhere, even into Hell.” She punctuated this statement by moving a piece of hair back from where it had stuck to Michiru’s cheek, tucking it gently behind her ear, the touch as soft as a quiet wind.

Relief swelled in Michiru’s chest as the tension in her shoulders sagged. There had not been an argument, as she had assumed there would be, and for this she was immensely grateful; she had not needed to defend the fact that Usagi, too, had died on that battlefield, and an imposter now wore her corpse. She allowed the balm of her lover’s assurances, more effective than any medicine the hospital had to offer, to wash away the twinge of fear that the argument had been too easily won. She almost allowed herself to believe that Haruka’s love for her meant more than her devotion to their Princess, but her brain stopped short of such blatant optimism, the serpent’s voice in the back of her mind whispering that it must be too good to be true, that she needed to ask; she could not remain blissfully ignorant in the Garden when such fruit hung inches from her face.

Michiru smiled, forcing those thoughts down, focusing only on the deep green of Haruka’s eyes as they twinkled, the brightest stars amidst the constellation of freckles on her nose, her lips wishing to explore every inch of the galaxy that her love contained. “I’m glad to hear it. This will be challenging enough with you; I do not wish to imagine without.”

“You’ll never have to,” Haruka replied easily before standing, the bed barely moving with the smoothness of her rising. She leaned overtop of the resting woman and pressed a gentle kiss on the sweat-dampened forehead, and Michiru knew she should be appalled that Haruka was seeing her in such a state, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care about anything more than the lips on her brow.

As she stepped backwards, Michiru’s skin immediately tingling from the memory of those lips, gentle as a ghost, Haruka deftly plucked the call button from where it rested and placed it underneath her right hand. “Now that’s settled, why don’t you call the nurse and ask for more pain meds? You look like you need them.” It wasn’t said unkindly, her lover’s eyes sympathetic and warm, but Michiru still felt the sting of the words, a cold spray of seawater splashed onto her cheek by an aggressive breeze, her cheeks flushing with the impact.

“I - perhaps it is unwise to…” her sentence drifted off as she stared at Haruka’s face, brow quirked and mouth still wearing that gently teasing smile.

“You already got approved to leave tomorrow, right? Why make yourself suffer in the meantime?” The corners of her mouth ticked downward and her voice took on a somber tone, losing the playful lilt of a moment before. “I hate seeing you like this,” Haruka murmured as her eyes darted around Michiru’s body, carving out a path from the bandages on her chest to the IV in her arm, and every bruise and cut in-between. “It’ll be easier if you just take the medicine, Michi.” Haruka’s expression was somewhat forlorn, and Michiru found that if a suitable argument existed to the contrary, she did not know it.

“All right,” Michiru whispered, index finger lightly touching the call button. The smile returned to Haruka’s face and she leaned down to give another feather-light kiss, the sweet temptation of her breath overpowering all traces of blood on her lips.

When Michiru awoke the next morning, eyes squinting with the effort of not simply succumbing back into blissful sleep, her vision cleared around the sight of hawklike eyes, watching her every breath intently. It took another moment for her to realize that it was Haruka’s gaze that met her own. “How are you feeling, Michiru?”

Michiru forced her eyelids to open and shut several times, her vision still dark at the corners despite these efforts. “Tired,” she replied plainly as she stared at the clock, brain initially almost too sluggish to determine what it read. “Isn’t it a bit too early for visiting hours?” She knew that her memory wasn’t currently at its best, but a memory stirred involving someone trying to see her and a nurse shooing them away, citing the policy as their argument faded into the blackness of sleep.

“Not if you’re family,” Haruka answered with a grin, although she took that moment to glance down at the watch on her arm. “Visiting starts soon - bet the girls will be here right as they open it up. Are you sure you feel well enough to leave?”

“I don’t feel as though I have much option,” she sighed, head sagging against the pillow behind it, the one that hadn’t improved from Haruka’s dozen or so attempts to fluff it up. Hotaru had been correct; she was healing more quickly than a normal person would. The doctor attributed this progress to his own qualifications, unable or unwilling to see what was there instead, and Michiru had allowed him to think that was the case. But a few of the nurses didn’t seem to trust the good doctor as much as he trusted himself - the woman who had changed the bandage over her heart where the defibrillator had scorched her flesh had made a few too many comments about the now-unblemished skin for Michiru’s comfort.

“You can do anything, Michiru. We can do anything.” Haruka looked to the doorway, ensuring that they were alone before continuing in slightly hushed tones. She leaned forward co-conspiratorially, eyes alight with mischief and promise. “We could run away together, just the two of us. Let them sort out all this mess. Didn’t you say you wanted to go back to Paris this year?”

“But you hate Paris,” Michiru blurted out, her forehead crinkling as her limited cognitive function struggled to the surface, each thought threatening to sink back down to the ocean floor. “And if Serenity is allowed to rule, there will be no Paris, besides.” She pictured the Eiffel Tower replaced by a huge crystal shard and wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“Maybe - or maybe they can beat her without us. We could be eating pastries and drinking wine this time tomorrow, if you wanted.” It was a careful argument, measured and thought out and so unlike Haruka’s usual rash insistence that it seemed somehow more logical than the alternative.

Because of this, Michiru was running out of arguments against the temptation of flight. She had always known herself to be selfish, and often a coward besides, and she could think of no better Eden than the penthouse suite of a fine hotel, Haruka ordering copious room service between rounds of intimacy under the silken sheets -

She forced those thoughts out of her head before they threatened to swallow her up, definitively shaking her head in response to the proposition. Michiru had bitten the apple long ago, the first time her fingers touched the warm metal rod and felt the call of the sea at her command; she knew that she could never remain in that garden paradise after knowing such destruction, lest she decimate its beauty. “What about the Mission, Haruka? Were you not always the one who loved the Princess so?” The argument was all wrong, all backwards - shouldn’t she be the one wishing to flee, to escape the destiny she had so loathed?

“My Princess is dead. I have no one left to protect.” Haruka leaned forward, eyes smoldering with heat and intensity as she swore her next words, a devotion deep as prayer falling from her lips. “No one - except you.”

Michiru felt her heart thud and flip wetly in her chest, a combination of joy and confusion that muddled the ability to feel either emotion in its entirety. A reply did not come swiftly, but mercifully she was saved the trouble by a knock from the doorway of her hospital room, Hotaru’s pale fist rapping against the wooden doorframe and lingering there.

Without waiting for an invitation, Hotaru entered. She was followed by Minako, the cadence of her walk almost military, and then Rei, her usual stomping footfalls louder than the rest as she bustled in behind.

“You got everything fixed, right?” Hotaru asked as she stopped at the foot of the bed, crossing her arms impatiently.

“And good morning to you all as well,” Michiru snipped, knowing that perhaps she deserved no niceties but wishing for them all the same, especially from the girl she had once looked after as though she were her own. “Yes, everything is taken care of.”

“Good,” Minako answered, ignoring the snide remark. “Once we get you home, Hotaru has volunteered to use her healing powers on you intermittently. It’ll help the healing happen even faster.”

“Thank you,” she replied frankly, trying to catch Hotaru’s gaze as the younger girl pointedly looked out of the window to her right.

Minako snorted. “Don’t take it as a favor; we need all four of us if we have any chance of taking down Serenity, especially now that she has Mercury with her.”

“Five,” Michiru automatically corrected, also choosing to ignore the slight handed to her, the two exchanging blows in a more intense version of their usual verbal sparring, the training foils replaced with thin, sharp blades that required a deft ballet to dodge.

The three women standing at the bottom of her bed looked at one another with indiscernible expressions before Rei stepped closer to Michiru, eyes fixed firmly on her own. “Michiru, there are four of us.”

Michiru shook her head and looked at Haruka, still sitting in the corner, her expression neutral as she watched the exchange. “Unless the fundamentals of basic mathematics have been altered during my absence, I am counting five. You, Hotaru, Minako, Haruka, and myself.” She punctuated each name by gesturing loosely towards the corresponding woman, their eyes following her movements.

“Shit,” Minako cursed under her breath.

“I told you,” hissed Hotaru at the same time. Rei was silent as she turned to glare at them both, and Minako turned away from the bed, her expression hidden from view. Rei inhaled deeply before perching on the bed next to Michiru, the mattress sagging under her weight.

“Michiru, where’s Haruka?” she asked, her tone that nearly-gentle lilt she sometimes used with Usagi when she was being particularly difficult, a patient schoolteacher imparting a lesson on some unruly child.

She huffed somewhat, unaccustomed to being patronized by anyone, let alone one of very few people that she would consider a friend. “She’s right there,” Michiru indicated, again pointing to the corner where Haruka sat sideways in the chair, her back resting against the wall. “She’s been here since I woke up.”

Rei opened her mouth to say something, but Minako whipped around in a flurry of blonde hair and raised her face up to meet Michiru’s gaze, tears streaming down her cheeks even as her eyes were filled with fury. “Haruka’s dead.”

Michiru felt her heart burst open and drop, hemorrhaging blood and bile into her stomach as it twisted and roiled in her gut. Her eyes moved unbidden to the corner chair, where Haruka was casually engaged in staring at the ceiling. “That’s not possible,” Michiru whispered, the words shaking as her breaths heaved unsteadily.

“Oh, it’s more than possible,” Minako answered coldly, her voice a sword as it was unsheathed, the metallic scraping present over every syllable. “It happened. You didn’t stab the monster; you stabbed Uranus - you stabbed Haruka - instead.” She let out a bitter snort, and it was the sound of the blade pushing through flesh. “You’d think you’d remember killing your own partner.”

Michiru shook her head wildly, hands clenching the hospital sheets as they balled into tight fists at her sides. “Whatever idea of a joke you are presenting, it is not funny, Minako,” she hissed, never taking her eyes off of Haruka, almost afraid that if she looked away, the woman would disappear into the wind.

Rei took hold of her hand and Michiru startled slightly at the contact, her gaze moving to the woman on her bed instinctively. The hand squeezed hers carefully, avoiding the IV line, and all Michiru could focus on was the fact that Rei’s middle finger’s nail polish was chipped, a piece of the red missing to reveal the pale pink underneath, naked and exposed. “She’s telling the truth, Michiru,” Rei said in tones almost hushed enough to be a whisper, a sort of pleading in her eyes that Michiru pretended not to see as she looked back to the chair where Haruka still sat, handsome and smiling and real.

“I told you we should have run away together,” Haruka murmured sadly, a wry grin on her face. She pulled a perfectly red apple from her pocket and took a bite, letting the juices run down her chin.

#DUN DUN DUN #my writing #commissioned work #sittingoverheredreaming #fanfiction #sailor moon #michiru kaioh #sailor neptune #haruka tenoh #sailor uranus #hotaru tomoe #sailor saturn #rei hino #sailor mars #minako aino #sailor venus #character death mention #i have been SO EXCITED to write this part #y'all do not even KNOW

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fluffyseapancakes · 5 years

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Can you write a platonic Peter Parker x reader where the reader is in the Avengers facility trying to do math homework and she struggles with math, so she gets so frustrated that she starts crying? Then Peter finds her and tickles her to cheer her up and then helps her with it? Could it be the Bucky's daughter one?

I can 200% relate to those math struggles, haha. Hope you like it!

Bucky’s daughter fics Part 1 Part 2

________________________

You were an Avenger, you’ve been on some kick-ass missions to destroy a terrorist group, your father was Bucky Barnes, most infamously known as the Winter Soldier. Clearly your life was different from most teenage girls and you had important missions coming up, and yet why in the heck were you forced to finish your algebra homework before the meeting?

You glanced at the clock and quietly moaned when you realized you only had fifteen minutes to finish the assignment. Your father had warned that he will check the homework for completion before you even stepped foot in the meeting room. Peter was already here and of course had all of his work done.

The numbers and equations on the page started to melt together in your mind and every time you tried to solve one, it didn’t match up correctly. Your notes were completely useless with the illegible squiggles and you were starting to regret using algebra as the official nap class. The only reason you were even accepted to Midtown was because you excelled at programming and making concoctions with household chemicals. One boring afternoon, you and Peter had a competition to see who could make the strongest web fluid with only the chemicals they found in the kitchen. To Peter’s horror, you won and Tony was greatly impressed by your skills, which led to him enrolling you in the same school as Peter. All the science and technology classes were a breeze and you had fun creating your own projects, but math rolled around and you were in huge trouble. Your father had taught you enough math to get by, but it was barely enough to qualify for the lowest level math class MSHS offered. Peter was a great tutor and Tony helped out when you stayed up till midnight trying to finish homework, your father felt bad that he couldn’t help much so he made you tea and gave encouragement when you were struggling.

“Y/N you finished yet?” Peter walked into the living room and peered over your shoulder to look at the assignment. Only three questions were filled out and the answers were all wrong. He opened his mouth to point out your mistakes, but he heard you sniffle softly. You felt tears burning at the corners of your eyes and you were mortified that you were crying, but you didn’t stop the tears from falling down your cheeks and hitting the paper.

“Hey don’t cry,” Peter immediately scooped you up from the chair and carried you away from the homework, he set you down on the large sofa and held you tightly, “a little assignment isn’t worth crying over.”

“I know,” you whispered, you leaned your head against Peter’s chest and closed your eyes, listening to his heartbeat, “I just feel so freaking stupid and the meeting’s starting any minute now.”

“I’ll help you after the meeting then, but for now you need to forget about the assignment,” he rubbed your back gently.

“How?” You mumbled, “I’ve been working on it all day and my brain is crammed with algebra.”

“Will it help if you laugh?” Peter smiled.

“Maybe,” you shrugged, “but your jokes kinda suck.”

“Excuse me,” he wriggled his fingers into your sides and you bursted out into a stream of giggles, “my jokes are top notch quality thank you very much.”

You clamped your arms down as his devious fingers travelled to your belly, his hands were trapped and you screamed with laughter when he dug in a little deeper. You lifted your arms back up and he immediately dug into your underarms. Ticklish shocks shot down your spine and you desperately tried to escape from his grasp, but he held you tightly in his arms.

“S-stop!” You cackled, you felt your face burning up from laughter and attempted to push him away from you.

“Then agree to take a break,” he reached down and squeezed the tops of your knees, you bucked up and a ridiculously high pitched squeal came out of your lips.

“I’ll take a break!” Sticking to his promise, Peter immediately stopped his attack and awkwardly blotted your wet cheeks with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

“That was evil,” you panted out, trying to rub away the ticklish feelings from your body.

“That’s what best friends do,” Peter laughed and poked you in the ribs, you recoiled at the finger and hissed at him playfully.

“But now I can’t join in on the meeting because I didn’t finish,” you groaned, staring at the long abandoned piles of homework on the kitchen table.

“You can join,” Peter grinned, “I heard your dad telling Mr. Stark that he needed you to be briefed on the mission anyways, he just wanted you to get some motivation.”

You were silent as you processed the information, all those hours you frantically tried to finish your homework, all that frustration and feelings of failure, was basically useless.

“Father!” You stood up from the couch and screamed his name as it echoed throughout the tower. You and Peter, thanks to your enhanced hearing, heard Bucky’s concerned voice from a couple floors up.

“Oh shit.”

“Wait Y/N,” Peter tried to grab your arm but it was too late, you sped to the elevator in hot pursuit of your dad. Your abandoned friend walked over to the table with the homework assignments, he sighed and grabbed a pencil.

I can be a few minutes late, he thought to himself as he got started on the first problem. He made sure to clearly write down every step to solving the equation so you would be able to understand, and made some notes on why you got it wrong in the first place. Suddenly Bucky’s loud laughter echoed from the floor above him and the teenager shook his head with a smile. Ned would totally kill him if he found out Peter had skipped a meeting with the Avengers to do algebra, but he knew you were stressed out lately from school, you needed one night to not have to worry about anything and he was happy to help with that, because that is what best friends do.

#prompt #airplane series #spider-man #peter parker #reader insert #reader x peter parker #platonic #tickle #tickle fic

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dont-follow-me-im-scared · 5 years

Text

My worst goodbye

Per my therapist request im "journaling" breakup I guess. I mean its been a long time coming but this time it was real and needed to this might be long but here goes:

The force,

I dont even know where to start so I'll start from the begining. The night I met you, when I walked into that bar I had no intention of meeting my soul mate. Yes soul mate. I never believed in them until I met you. But after 9 long years ive learned sometimes we meet our soul mate and we dont get to keep them. I had quite a bit to drink, see you didnt know this but I was 19 I just looked old enough to be there and I had gotten divorced a few months before my world would be forever rocked and changed. The night carried on the christmas air was no match for the drink and the long sleeve I had on. I removed layers the more I drank and I stayed close to the bar. This tall man with the bluest eyes id ever seen was taking care of my drink needs but young me saw a mountain I wanted to climb. I was informed you were married when the regulars realized my attention wasnt going anywhere but you. I flashed the bar (dumb kid is probably what you thought) but everyone in there knew it was for you. Hell I said I wouldnt do it unless you were there. The night carried on, my friends were restless trying to protect whatever modesty they felt I had that night. I wanted to go to the after party I was told youd be attending. They refused and wanted to get me home. Closing time was coming. I wrote my number on a napkin and waited. You went back towards the bathrooms and I knew somehow in my awe struck drunken stuper that was my chance. I walked back caught you right at the end of the hall. Do you remember what I said? I can. The words and moment is forever burned into my brain. "I can keep a secret". Slipped my number into your front pocket smooth as fuck. Which isnt me. But you know that right? Because after that night you saw sides of me no one was ever allowed to see. You saw me grow as a person and into a woman. That was the begining of the end. That singular moment with rumple on my breathe as I stood on my tip toes to lean as close to your ear as I could when I spoke those words. I took in how you smelled. I had no idea soon that smell would be my favorite and put my spirit at ease.

I woke up the next morning with a text from an unknown number. Then the conversation started. You filled in the parts of the night that wasnt clear. You made me nervous. A sensation that would never die down. Tuesday. She'll be at work. Dinner and hang out at the house? Sure. I bet you thought you were getting lucky that night. Not as lucky as I was going to be I guess. Because see even though this is a goodbye, and one thats tearing me apart I was so lucky to feel this. Not everyone gets to experience this with anyone in their entire life. You had a young child. Maybe 3 months I think. Timing in the universe is shitty like that. We sat on the couch. Me almost shaking with nerves but trying to keep my calm because I refused to look a fool in front of you. Do you remember what we watched? Big bang theory. And from then on anytime I saw an episode (I never watched it myself) my thoughts would gravitate back to that couch with you. Do you know how hard thats going to be on me now because that shows everywhere. I guess thats not your problem though. We didnt have sex. I was too nervous and I mean I felt like I was going to puke you made me so nervous. But there was a warmth. This tiny spark of a fire that was felt by me at least. We made out alot. But everytime you reached for my belt my gut screamed "No! Not yet" and ive never been one to ignore my gut. I left. I parked my car a few houses down. The late December air felt so cold against my face because my cheeks were burning like id be in the gym. This couldnt be real. I texted you when I got to the end of the street. "Im sorry I couldn't have sex with you I was so nervous if you dont want to meet up again i get it." I expected you to blow me off. I mean you are older and a bartender. I knew in my head what you were use to with women. I had only been with two people my whole life but you. You reeked experience. Then my phone did something that felt magical in the moment. It lit up with that text. That text reassuring me you wanted to see me again. The text that made me float the whole way home.

The visits became more frequent. Sex with you was amazing. You engulfed my body in what seemed like worship. Not one inch of me ignored. Hands and mouth just exploring the new territory. I was more adventurous. I wanted to make you happy in every way possible. Theres a need inside me to make sure youre happy. There's this new feeling like in a woman and not just some highschooler whos date is trying to get lucky. Theres a chemistry unmatched and indescribable in all honesty. It happened on the couch. The 2nd time I saw you. You carried my straddling body to your room all that was on was my unbutton jeans and your jeans. Your arms lifted me with such ease I gasped. I remember. See how much I remember. Your bedroom smelt like soap and the sheets smelled clean. The only light in the room was the green from the clock by your bed. Then before I knew it your mouth was where no other mans had been. You gave me a new experience I had been deprived of before. Then you were inside of me when I felt like my body was going to stop. Laying there after wards, your hands playing with my spine while we had small conversations in between sighs I considered if this could be forever. I knew right then you were different. I knew we were different. I knew there was something in my way but never desired to remove it. Your kiss at the front door when I was leaving had a longing. Like you didnt want to send me away. It was dark. The neighbors didnt know but as bright as I felt like I was shinning I wondered if they were peering out of the windows to see the source. Was any of this real for you? I dont think I want the answer because it was so real for me. This all sounds crazy. You're married and I knew but here I was.

It got to where id barley make it through your unlocked door without you scoping me up like youd waited all week to get your hands on me. The text in between visits didnt seem like enough any more. So I started doing what any logical in love person would do. I started getting hotel rooms and going to the bar on the weekends. I had to see you more. Hear your voice. See you smile at me from across that bar knowing I was picturing having you under me on every surface there. It made it fun right? Like we had a huge secret right in front of everyone. Including your sister in law who bartended with you some nights. It was a rush right? Knowing I was going to be in that weed infused hotel room half drunk mostly stoned in the see through black robe you love(d) so much. Knowing there was nothing between me and you but this thin fabric. Do you think people could see it on our faces? Your friends became mine because I was at the bar so often but none of them knew. Our conversations grew and we became friends who just happen to explode with this chemistry. It was more than what it had been but that was the most itd ever be. Remember the Halloween you dressed at a 20s gangster. Remeber the red dress i rushed into the bar in on new years eve so I could kiss you by midnight. Do you remember taking me in your arms around my waist and kissing me in front of everyone? I'll never forget because that was a moment where I thought this is how it could be. I met you for lunches. I met you at quicktrips for a five minute visit. Boyfriends came and went but you never left. I kept you around. Remember the apartments down the street I moved into so I could be closer. You whistling while I was waiting at my open front door. That smile. You nuzzling me after on the balcony while i smoked. I hated you had to leave me every time. You lingered in my door hesitant to walk away. The good thing about me living so close is you got to spend more time with me.

I stated you were my soul mate. I mean it. I have forever missed my chance with the one person I truly believe was made for me. All because a year of timing. You told me so many times had it not been for your baby youd leave. I believed you. I love my husband and my daughter but no one will ever light the fire you did inside me and still do. Which is why I need to walk away. Youre a source of confusion in my life. I cant allow myself to question if my relationships right because I dont have the feeling I did with you. Does that make me bad? I dont think so. I love him and dont want to hurt him which is why I have to do this. Cutting an imprint with you is one of the hardest things ive had to do but hurting him would be harder. I'll never forget a million things about you. Memories with you. I honestly hope you'll never forget me. I wish I could tell my daughter about you one day and how she never needs to settle unless someone makes her feel like you made me feel.

Love always

Youre biggest fan.

#breakup #soul mates #sometimes it doesnt work

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bisexualdaemon · 6 years

Text

Gin and Juice: Part III

a/n: In which Reader lies, Shawn is gets kicked out of football practice, and the two of them arrange a meeting.

This is a little bit of a setup chapter to get to Part IV...the italic block is a flashback.

|| PART I || PART II || MASTERLIST ||

warnings: none, really. maybe light anxiety? a cute sleeping giant?

You got back to your room just after daybreak. Trying to open the door as quietly as possible, you cracked it open and slowly pushed. Suddenly, the door flew backward out of your hand, putting you face-to-face with Caroline. Her eyes were crazed, bright and wide with exhaustion mixed with panic.

“Where. Have. You. Been?!” she shouted between deep breaths, exacerbating your pounding headache. “Shhh, Caroline, your voice is reverberating in my skull,” you whispered, holding your hands over your ears and squinting at her.

“No, no, no. No, ma’am. You don’t get to storm off in the middle of a huge party alone and then not show up to our room until the next morning,” she was still shouting, bordering on hysterical, “I thought you were coming back to the room! Needless to say, it was a surprise when I got back and you weren’t here!”

You gave her a moment to collect her breath. You started this conversation already frustrated because you had a hangover and you’d been silently reaching a boiling point while she screamed at you. Gritting your teeth, you gave her a serious death glare.

“Caroline, I respect and appreciate your concern, but if you’ll remember correctly, I wouldn’t have stormed off in the first place if you hadn’t been basically forcing alcohol into my hand.” Your voice was low, more menacing than it had ever been. How dare she be accusatory when she was in the wrong too?

She dipped her head, acknowledging that you had a point. “Look, I’m sorry, okay?” she said, remorse hanging on every syllable, “I just wanted you to have a good time...and I really was worried when you weren’t here when I got back. Where did you go?”

You cringed internally. You knew she’d ask eventually but you hadn’t had time to come up with a good enough answer. “Uhm, I walked around campus for awhile and then I went to the library,” you waffled, coming up with the first round-the-clock open place you could think of.

“The library?” she quirked an eyebrow, voice dripping with disbelief, “really?”

You worked up your best fake indignant tone, “yes, Caroline, I happen to feel safe in the library. It’s quiet there and I can think, which is more than I can say about this dorm room with you!” Caroline’s eyes widened and immediately welled with tears. She really did care about you and you’d just hurt her on purpose. It stung harder than you thought it would, but you’d felt betrayed.

And more than that, you had to protect what really happened last night. You had decided that no one needed to know. No one could know. Your future depended on it. Hell, you weren’t even sure if Shawn would know, he’d been so drunk. He said he loved the blackout. Even if he did remember, he wouldn’t want to acknowledge it, right?

You were really starting to regret leaving your number.

It was still dark outside when you woke up drooling, the strong scent of gin filling your nose. Your face was pressed against his firm, expansive chest and you could tell the alcohol was still making its way out of his system, practically oozing out of his pores. His soft exhale tickled the back of your neck. At some point during the few hours you slept, Shawn had draped his arm around your back and curled into you. If anyone had walked in, it would have looked like a couple’s embrace.

Oh God. You needed to get out of here. No one could know about this. Not just because one of the university’s most precious assets had come perilously close to admitting he was an alcoholic, but because you needed to protect yourself. Getting an education. Getting a good job. Involving yourself in a college football scandal was not a part of that plan.

You slowly, carefully wiggled out of his arm and crawled to a sitting position beside him. He slumped slightly, but remained a sleeping giant. You studied him for a moment.

He looked so peaceful, so different from the boy she walked in on, passed out in search of escape. His brow was relaxed, but there was just a hint of that charm he used as a shield even in his sleep, a sign that his demons ran deep. Even though you’d never met him before tonight, you’d seen a glimpse of who he might be underneath all the pressure and the anxiety. That person just wanted to play the game that he loved uninhibited—perhaps not without pressure, but free of overwhelming expectation from every person in his life. You hoped he found that balance.

Trying to make as little noise as possible, you gently pulled yourself off the floor, moving to unlock the door. You stilled at the door knob and looked back at him. A thousand scenarios ran through your head, but the most vivid one stuck out—Shawn keeping everything he told you bottled up alone; Shawn at the next party with the next gin bottle; Shawn passed out in the next bathroom; Shawn submerged in the blackness for longer than a few hours, for longer than a night.

You pulled a pen from your pocket, glad you always kept one on you, and crouched down next to him. Taking his hand in yours, you softly scratched a message onto his skin.

* * * * * * * * * *

“MENDES,” Coach Bradford shouted from across the field, “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!”

Shawn had just overthrown his fourth pass in practice. He was still hungover, his head still fuzzy from the night before. Hustling over to his coach, he braced for the ass-kicking he was about to receive. Coach grabbed his facemask and jerked his head down to eye-level.

“GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS, BOY,” he screamed, mere inches from your face, “YOU THINK I CAN’T SMELL THE ALCOHOL FROM LAST NIGHT ON YOU?” Shawn’s face flamed. Most of the guys at practice had been at the party last night, but their asses weren’t getting chewed. Admittedly, he wasn’t doing such a great job at hiding the fact that he’d been shit-faced. He knew his eyes were practically black from exhaustion and his skin was a little sunken. His head was still pounding, a fact that his coach was clearly exploiting. He closed his eyes against the barrage of sound, Coach still yelling indiscriminate obscenities at him.

“GET YOUR SHIT AND GET OFF MY FIELD,” he finished, pushing Shawn’s facemask away from him in disgust, “I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN UNTIL YOU'RE SOBER.” He called the backup quarterback from the bench, a fifth-year senior who had started before Shawn was recruited. They exchanged death glares as Shawn jogged off the field, hanging his head and feeling all the disappointed eyes of his teammates follow him off the field.

He ripped off his helmet when he entered the locker room, slamming it into the nearest bench. The sound of hard plastic hitting metal reverberated in his skull. He shook out his curls, soaked with sweat, and silently fumed. He’d never been kicked out of practice before. No matter how drunk he’d gotten the night before.

Stripping off his shirt and throwing himself onto a couch in the athlete’s lounge, Shawn roughly scrubbed his face and tried to clear his mind. In truth, it wasn’t the headache or the exhaustion that was distracting him. He’d dealt with those things before every time he drank. This time was different. This time, there was a cryptic message and a phone number burning in his failed memory. He had never wanted to remember what had happened during those lost hours in his life until now. The neat, loopy handwriting suggested a girl. What would he want to talk about with her? What did he already talk about with her?

Normally, he would write it off to a drunken one-night stand, but he definitely remembered entering that bathroom and he just had a feeling that he hadn’t left it until he woke up this morning. There were no outward signs of sex. His clothes had been exactly as he remembered them the night before. Plus, with the girls he’d dealt with before, there would be scare quotes around “talk,” because talking was always the last thing they had on their minds.

Who was this girl?

He guessed he could just text her. Whatever they did, she could piece it together for him. If she was a jersey chaser, that would likely make itself apparent rather quickly—they usually screamed when they saw him—a signal to make a quick exit. Though he couldn’t remember exactly what happened last night, he knew that he would never say anything remotely genuine to a girl just looking to use him as a trophy.

He took his phone out of his practice bag next to his locker and quickly memorized the number off of the picture he’d taken of his hand that morning. Typing it in, his pulse quickened. He didn’t know why he was so nervous. It was probably nothing. But, the fact that he couldn’t remember had set off panic alarms like he’d never had before. It was almost like his subconscious was trying to tell him what his brain wanted him to forget. Like it wasn't a hook-up or a superficial encounter. Like he might have told her something real, something he doesn't tell just anyone.

Hey, it’s Shawn.

* * * * * * * * * *

You stared at your phone for five minutes before putting it face down on your desk. This wasn’t happening. He didn’t actually text you less than six hours after you left him in that bathroom. Didn’t he have practice? Didn’t he have a hangover? Didn’t he shower and not notice your note before it washed off?

You picked it up again, hoping you’d had a hallucination, but the screen lit up and there it was:

Hey, it’s Shawn.

You put it down again and went back to your American Literature essay that was due next week. This Great Gatsby essay was much more important. Getting an education. That was part one of the plan. Remember the plan. The plan didn’t include or accommodate distractions like a drop-dead gorgeous star athlete with substance abuse problems.

Your phone vibrated against the desk, startling you, and you scrambled to pick it up again:

Err, Mendes. It's Shawn Mendes.

The corner of your mouth quirked up. Like you needed the clarification after last night. That endearing charm was immediately there, and as much as you wished it wasn’t his armor, you had to admit it was cute.

Uhh, you know you have read receipts on, right?

Shit! You put on read receipts for your mom last night and forgot to take them off! Scrambling to your settings, you turned them off. But, you’d been caught. You had to answer now.

You: You caught me.

Shawn: She speaks.

You: She does.

You: How are you feeling?

Shawn: Like shit haha you?

You: Surprisingly well, but I didn’t drink an entire bottle of gin like someone in this conversation ;)

Shawn: Touché.

Shawn: Listen, you said to text you if I wanted to talk.

You: I did.

Shawn: Well, do you think we could talk in person?

You: (...)

A sinking sense of panic filled your lungs. This wasn’t what you meant when you left your number. Texting kept a safe distance between the two of you. You never had to worry about people seeing you—watching you—with him. He talked about the girls that followed him around and you couldn’t imagine the kind of attention he drew on campus, even among people who didn’t want to sleep with him.

Shawn: I’m on pins and needles here.

You: (...)

You: It’s no offense to you, but I just don’t want to be seen with you on campus.

Shawn: Ouch. That felt like offense.

You: No, no. It’s me. I get nervous when I feel like people are watching me.

Shawn: What if there was a place we could talk where I promise no one would be watching?

You: (...)

Was he about to invite you to his apartment?

Shawn: I’m not inviting you over or anything weird.

You breathed a sigh of relief.

You: Okay, then where?

Shawn: The library. I have connections.

The library. You felt the chains around your heart rattle, straining around emotions you’d tried really hard to keep under control for a long time. What was this boy doing to you?

You: Tell me when.

to be continued...

Next time: A secret library meeting.

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#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn peter raul mendes #my writing

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