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httpsserene · 7 months

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𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝟏 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝘂𝗽𝗹𝗼𝗮𝗱 𝟲: 𝗴𝗲𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲 𝗿𝘂𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 | 𝘃𝗮𝗺𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗲 & 𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗸𝗲𝘆𝘀/𝗯𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: george has created a serious problem. you two have been dating for over three years, and he fed from you the first time about three months ago. the problem lies within the fact that he conditioned you to orgasm every time he used you as his glorified high-class wine bottle. on second thought, that’s a pretty good problem to have; his thirst is sated, and yours is as well. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. not beta read. vampires. dubcon (from the inherent plot). safe, sane, and consensual though. coming untouched. no penetrative sex. implied sex. blood drinking. biting. mention of multiple orgasms. unnecessary world building. the grid & mercedes knows about george being a vampire. hickeys/love bites. bruises. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 4k words. 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: george russell x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: prey • the neighborhood

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: i guess i got too into the plot and lost myself in the exposition. i was originally going to delete the beginning ramblings of setting the scene and what not, but this would be like 500 words if i did that. for some reason, the entire grid knows george is a vampire? i couldn’t find the brainpower to explain who he’s hiding it from or how that would work in f1. the kink is more of the inherent tension from drinking somebodies blood. lol, anyways have fun reading 🫶🏽

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george had gotten enough schooling to learn what classical conditioning is. pavlov conditioned dogs to salivate at the sound of a bell ringing; a conditioned response. george may have done the same thing to you–he made the mistake of making sure you orgasm as he bites and drinks from you. now every time he feeds from you, you cum, even if there’s no sexual build-up at all; it could be the most bland feeding session and the minute his venom enters your bloodstream, you can’t fight it—he’s pavlov-ed his girlfriend. he should’ve never allowed himself to feed from you.

when george first met you, he was enamored with you from the start. after every morning run, he would end at a local coffee shop and you would already be cozied up in a corner seat working away on your computer. you smelled delectable, george quickly picked up on that. he was thankful the barista had already memorized his usual order, because he really wouldn’t have enjoyed explaining why his canines had elongated into fangs. he couldn’t handle the way your blood was calling to him and left the coffee shop as soon as he got his drink, running into several people on the way out. you would be in the coffee shop on two out of the three days he came in, and he would be a serious hazard to any customer who came in during the five minutes he was there. it was like this for two months and twelve days (not that he was counting or anything), until you weren’t in your seat one day. george sighed in relief, shoulders relaxing and the fixed grimace in anticipation sliding off his face—what he didn’t expect to feel is disappointment at the lack of your appearance and addicting scent. he dismisses the emotions, convincing himself that he’s just used to the constant repression of his instincts around you. he even takes the time to engage in small talk with the baristas; two months ago he was well-invested into their lives, he has a lot of catching up to do. he allows himself to be forced into a seat at the counter to drink his coffee and indulge in a few pastries that are definitely breaking his diet. it’s an off day for him, his only plans are to stream in the evening with the usual quartet, so he can afford to dine in this morning…and indulge in catching up on the coffee shop gossip, he’s only a man, alright?

george is halfway through his cup of coffee and laughing along to a story about how this adorable kid tried to buy hot chocolate with monopoly money when the entrance door jingles open. he chokes on his sip of coffee, almost spraying it over the counter in surprise as you walk up to the counter. he turns to look at you ordering at the register, to confirm he’s not imagining your presence and—you look amazing. you’re wearing flared black trousers with a short-sleeved, white, collared shirt tucked into them, elegant gold jewelry accented against your brown skin—you’ve dressed up today. it’s different from the usual hoodie and headphones george sees you wearing in that corner nook of yours; at least that’s his excuse for why he ends up staring you down. after finishing your order, you head towards your usual seat and end up making direct eye contact with george, because the universe hates him. he sees your attempt at a polite smile and his cheeks burn red at being caught, and jerks his head forward breaking his stare. he hears you continue to walk past him, and the barista stares at him disbelievingly, “mate…you fumbled that.” george stutters through a denial, but then he hears your footsteps stop—and he knows you haven’t reached the corner seat yet. he picks up on the sound of you turning on your heels and heading back in his direction, and he drops his head into his hands, resigned.

“ah! someone’s taken your seat today,” the barista in front of george calls out to you—george narrows his eyes at the man in warning, “come sit at the counter then; you can tell me what you’re all fancied-up for.” the barista glances at george with a smirk, and he swears this may be the first time he bleeds a human dry.

you laugh and sit at the counter, one seat in between you and george. and george sighs in relief for the second time today; you’re wearing perfume and it taints the smell of your blood, enough for him to not start salivating, at least. its silent for a minute, and george can feel your awkwardness radiating.

“so…” you question teasingly, “not in a rush today, then?”

george turns to look at you, shocked that you’re even talking to him—he never figured he’d be in a conversation with you. while your voice may have been teasing, your eyes are soft, warmed with kindness, and george melts. he manages to muster a tease back in your direction, “no, not today. but, look at you—in business casual attire, i was starting to believe you only knew how to dress in sweatshirts?”

you roll your eyes at him, and a smirk replaces your painfully polite smile, “ah? today must’ve not been the only day you’ve been staring at me, if you’re so familiar with how i dress…even though we’ve never spoken to each other before.” george’s mouth drops open at you checking him, and he can hear both baristas giggling behind the counter. and at that moment, george is pretty sure he fell in love with you right then—even though he didn’t have the balls to ask you out for another month and a half.

for those weeks, every time george came to the cafe, you would wave him over to your table with a bright grin and invite him to sit down across from you. even on days when he really couldn’t afford to be late, he’d find himself sitting down to chat with you. instead of being early to zoom meetings with the mercedes team, he started being on-time, often enough for lewis and toto to comment on it. his only response to their gentle prodding at the change in his behavior being, “i added another mile to my morning run,” when he really was spending those minutes talking to you after his run. after he built up the courage to ask for your number (platonically, of course), he would show up to the driver’s briefings a few minutes late, rushing in yet tapping away on his phone struggling to hide the smile on his face. for all of his superior senses, he doesn’t notice how his grid mates stare at him like he’s lost his mind; eventually, one of the officials calls him out when he glances down at the notifications popping up on his phone screen for the fourth time in five minutes, “mr. russell, i am sure that whatever you find so interesting on your phone can’t be more important than our discussion about track conditions, can it?”

george flushed red (he knew he shouldn’t have fed until later) and stumbled through an apology. after the briefing ends, the drivers start teasing him for being ‘so unprofessional,’ and lewis doesn’t help when he reveals how george has started being late to mercedes team meetings, too. charles pretends to faint, alex gasps in horror, and lando’s eyes light up at the opportunity to be a gremlin.

“boysboysboys,” lando grins, gathering everyone’s attention, “i think it’s finally happened.”

george sighed, over the dramatics already, “what’s happened, lando?”

“you’ve managed to get yourself a girlfriend!” lando shrieks, his high-pitched laughter hurting george’s ears.

george flusters, and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, “she’s not my girlfriend!” and, he’s only made it worse.

alex’s eyes widen, pointing at george in shock, “oh my god—so you are talking to a girl!” george groans and spins on his feet to leave the room, ignoring the jibes and teases of the grown men behind him.

later that night, his hotel room is infiltrated by almost half the grid (including fernando, for some reason), all seeming to rally behind their common goal of getting george to ask you on an actual date. they debase all of george’s points about why he shouldn’t ask you out—the main point being that he’s a fucking vampire—and ask him the one question that he’s been refusing to acknowledge, “you can smell how she feels—does she smell like she likes you?”

george hisses at them half-heartedly, more like a frazzled kitten than a terrifying monster, “yes, i’m already aware that she’s interested in me—that’s the problem! i’ve already led her on this whole time, and she doesn’t know that she has a crush on an undead, immortal, vampire!” the room quiets at his outburst, and he can only groan and drop his head into his hands.

“so just tell her,” max states bluntly, not looking away from the fifa game he’s beating charles’ ass in. george stares at max, appalled.

“let her make the decision for herself, right?” max starts, pausing the game to look at george, “for some bizarre reason she likes you for who you are,” george scoffs, “so, just tell her from the jump—you’ve already led her on enough, so give her the opportunity to decide whether or not if she should date your lame ass.”

the vampire stares at max disbelievingly, “that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

the red bull driver shrugs, ears turning red under the surprised stares in the room, and quickly un-pauses the game and scores on charles. the monegasque screams dramatically, and the tense air is broken. george shakily sighs, anxious, and pulls out his phone to ask you on a date. originally, he was thinking about asking you through a text, but with almost every driver in the room disapproving of any way he goes about wording it, he bares his fangs at them, and steps out of his own room, to call you.

the phone doesn’t even complete the first ring before you pick up, and a pleasant, “hi, georgieeee,” slips from your mouth; he can hear how you’re smiling through the phone. he banters with you for a minute, listening to how you're singing praises about his performance even though the actual race isn’t for another day. when the conversation dies down, he blurts out the question, “do you want to go on a—“

“i would love to go on a date with you!” you cut him off, eagerly, “i mean–sorry, yes. i would like to go out with you.” george laughs, relieved and comforted by the fact that you’re as gone for him as he is for you. he can’t even bring himself to be mad when he hears the men in his room raucously cheer.

and when george took you out for brunch to the same cafe, ignoring the baristas’ proud expressions, he realized he had nothing to worry about. the conversation flowed easily, he made you laugh and you made him laugh, and most importantly, he didn't think about draining you dry like a caprisun. you’ve ditched the cozy outfits and dressed up again—dressed up for him—and george is out of his running attire and fancied up; and you make a off-hand comment about how unnatural this feels, and george is reminded of the one important thing he was supposed to tell you. time has flown by so quickly while the two of you were hidden away in your preferred corner seat, and it’s become mid-afternoon. george surveys the surroundings briefly and is shocked to find that it’s only the two of you, and the baristas in the cafe; it’s the perfect time to tell you.

when george states that he’s a vampire, you obviously think he’s joking, “well, you’re not burning in the sunlight, georgie–so i don’t believe you! i am afraid that if this is a kink of yours, i don’t see a second date in the future.” he tries to smile at your joke but it ends up as more of a grimace, and he exposes his fangs for you to see. he hears the breath catch in your throat, sees your eyes widening in shock, blown-out pupils shrinking in fear, hears your heart beginning to race in your chest, blood rushing in your veins, and smells your scent souring.

“george russell,” you whisper yell, glancing around anxiously, “what the fuck! i believe you—you shouldn’t do that in public! what if someone else saw?!” and that’s when he realized that sure, a small amount of your fear was from the confirmation that he is a supernatural being—but mainly that, you were afraid for him. and at that point, george knew that he could allow himself to be vulnerable with you.

and after three years together, he fed from you for the first time. a lot of planning went into the initial feeding: after the end of the racing season, a trip away just for the two of you, george would satiate his thirst with his usual blood donor supply, he wouldn’t drink more than six ounces from you, you’d eat a full meal and be properly hydrated, and of course, he’d drink from you when you orgasm. the bite hurts in the beginning—george has been told many stories from feeders—and the most common distraction to the pain is a simultaneous orgasm. you were apprehensive yet extremely willing to allow george to drink from you, and told him that you trusted him completely—you even sat through his numerous clinical rundowns of the plan without complaining.

however in the moment, george diverted from the script. instead of having you cum once, george forced three orgasms out of you and bit you on the last one. he practically mauled your neck, chest, and hickeys throughout the night, as if he was teasing himself with the indents on of his teeth on your body before he bit into you. you couldn’t figure out if it was the venom from his bite or the multiple orgasms that had you floating pleasurably. george couldn’t deny that seeing you covered in love bites and his actual fang marks didn’t provoke a hidden possessive trait in him. the love bites he left on your body would fade within a few days, the bite mark would fade in around two weeks—and you told george explicitly that if he ever wanted to feed from you again, he’d be more than welcome to do so.

the vampire always thought that he was the one who was at risk for getting addicted to your blood; his greatest fear being that he wouldn’t be able to resist sucking you dry. however, it rapidly dawned on him: you’re the one who formed an addiction.

george always made sure his thirst was properly sated with his usual blood bags before he drank from you. over three months, he’d consistently make you cum whenever he bit you, whether it was with his fingers, cock, mouth, thigh, etc. but he never quite realized that he conditioned you into cumming whenever he bit you, until the singapore grand prix.

singapore was hot. it wasn’t hell on earth like qatar, but it was still fucking hot. and then, he crashed. as he made his way back to the mercedes garage (stomping under the force of his self-deprecation), he became increasingly aware of the tingle in the back of his throat; he’s hungry, he needs blood. he ignores his race engineer asking if he needs medical attention, and asks for a ‘juicebox,’ the codeword for a blood-bag. only to find out, he had his last one yesterday after qualifying—the hotter race weekends have him draining his supply quicker than usual. the vampire whimpers, and suddenly he’s bombarded by you speeding over from the back of the garage. you’re tugging his face down to eye level, worriedly asking if he’s hurt, but george can only register how alluring your blood smells. contrary to popular vampiric-belief (if that’s a thing, he has no clue), blood does not smell sweet. it smells metallic, and the overall scent is affected by water content and ph-level; you smell velvety, and absolutely perfect to george.

the vampire briefly reassures you that he’s fine, before he grabs you by the hand and turns to toto. george begs his team principal to postpone any of his post-race interviews for as long as he can so he can get a brief feeding in with you before he loses his mind any further. toto cuts george’s pleads off immediately and allows him to do whatever he needs; the brit's temper is short enough already, if your blood can calm his mouth toto will personally send you a brand new g-wagon.

george pulls you along to his driver’s room, slowing when he hears how you’re tripping over your feet two match his speed. he shoves the door open, but kindly guides you with a palm on the small of your back into the room, before he steps in and slams the door shut, locking it with a quickness. he speedily sits on the edge of his couch, and pulls you onto his lap, staring up at you with wide, pleading eyes.

“love,” he starts, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip, “may i drink from you? i should’ve been smarter about preserving my supply, usually i’m more careful about it, but i think i was just overager with everything this weekend. i’ll only take a small sip, just enough to hold me over until we fly back home, yeah? i mean, if you’re uncomfortable, i will not drink from you. i should be able to wait—”

you cover the vampire’s mouth with a hand, and smile softly at him, “yes, georgie, you can feed from me. the whole point of drinking from me was to have me acclimate to the feeling for rare situations like this, yes? i’m okay with it, you can take as much as you need from me.”

george stares at you for a few seconds, for some reason, he’s surprised at your easy allowance, before he’s shaken out of his stupor by you waving a hand in front of his face.

“i won’t be able to make you cum—i need to get out there as soon as possible,” george rambles out.

“ok,” you state, looking at him oddly, “i’m pretty sure i’ll be able to handle it, and if not you’ll know before i do.”

the brit asks if you’re sure one last time, before he effortlessly stands up with you in his arms, spins around and places you on the couch, sitting you where he was. the vampire kneels in front of you, and parts your legs gently, before tugging at the waistband of your pants for permission. you’re still reeling from his easy manhandling (you forget about his superior strength, he never makes it obvious), and how he fell to knees for you—the duality of his actions has you embarrassingly hot. you lift your hips up allowing george to tug off your pants, and you see firsthand how he loses his train of thought.

when george brings you along to a race, he avoids leaving marks in a visible spots, so unfortunately for him, your neck and torso are complete bruise free; the humid weather in singapore meant that you would be wearing tank tops or cropped shirts, so he can’t risk someone seeing a smidge of a bruise on your body; they wouldn’t understand. although, george could take his fill of marking you up on your thighs. the dark skin of your inner thighs is mottled with bruises from his lips and indents of his teeth, all in various stages of healing observed by the various shades of purple they’re colored in. george slowly presses a finger into one of the marks and smirks when a strangled gasp escapes you from the pressure. if the vampire wasn’t so focused on the scent of your blood, he’d probably notice how that motion alone already had you wet.

george buries his head between your thighs, close enough that you can feel the exhales of breath from his nose over your panties. you shift, squirming away from the feeling—this is about giving george blood, which he needs for sustenance, not for you to get turned on at, you try to remind yourself. the brit halts your movements, his hands flexing around you only slightly. you try and buck your hips away to test his grip, and you don’t move a single centimeter. you glance down, making eye-contact with your boyfriend, and the teasing smile he’s hiding behind your thigh has your heart rabbiting faster, even though you roll your eyes at him. george begins to lick and nip across your thighs searching for the best spot to pierce your skin, and you are trapped in your own mind. you’re at the mercy of an immortal being, you have no chance of fighting him off if you needed to. of course, you’re very aware that george wouldn’t lay a finger on you, but your hindbrain runs off of instincts, and it’s telling you george is a predator and you’re clearly his next meal. the adrenaline thrumming underneath your skin causes you to start breathing a little heavier and you manage to wrangle the instinctual fear away to relax under him. george startles you from your thoughts when his cold hand leads yours to rest on the nape of his neck, and he pauses when he feels you jump underneath him.

“hey, you can still say ‘no’ if you’re not ready for this yet. there’s no pressure, love,” george reassures you. the calming tone of his voice has no judgemental lilt, and his words soothe you enough to double-down with your agreement.

“thank you for doing this for me, love. as soon as we get back to the hotel, i’ll take care of you properly–i promise,” george praises you, “now, remember, this won’t take any longer than ten seconds. if you need me to stop beforehand, pinch the skin on my neck and i’ll stop, okay?”

you swallow, clearing your throat, “yes, george. can we start already? my nerves will scare me away if we wait too long.”

george nods, hands petting at your waist reassuringly, before he focuses back on your thighs. his nose tracing along your sensitive skin for a few more seconds, until he stops and nuzzles at a spot almost on the underside of your left thigh, close enough to your pussy to have the fear fade under the anticipation of pleasure. the vampire kisses at the spot three times, before he lets his fangs slide out with an audible shlick. he presses them gently against you skin for a few seconds before he bites down.

the pain isn’t from the invasion of his fangs, but from the spread of the venom. it burns as it spreads through your bloodstream; you imagine this is what boiling alive feels like. the feeling is immense but fleeting. the initial bite has always been paralyzing, but when george takes the first pull of blood, the venom must have reached your brain and taken effect, because the pain instantly switches to an immobilizing amount of pleasure. the scream that was originally building in your chest transforms into a keening moan, the burning pain no longer present.

you feel your core tightening as george continues to feast on your blood; thighs trembling in pleasure, eyes rolling back overwhelmed, and toes curling. it’s happening so quickly, quick enough that you don’t register that you’re cumming. waves of pleasure crash over you unendingly, and you’re unable to figure out why. every drag of blood george takes ruins any chance you have to think. the pleasure is so catastrophic that you don’t even register when george releases the bite.

the vampire can only stare up at you in awe as your mouth parts, drool beginning to leak from the corner of your lips, your eyes slamming shut, and face scrunching from the force of the orgasm he ripped out of you. george soothes the bite closed with careful sweeps of his tongue, allowing you all the time you need to come back to him. he softly sucks a few more marks into the meat of your thigh before he fights himself away from cradle of your legs, brushing a kiss on your cunt over your panties.

the vampire slides his way onto the couch next to you, pulling you into his arms to allow you to shake through the aftershocks in his grasp. he presses kisses to your forehead, while he murmurs praises freely. while his mouth is running in one direction, his thoughts take a completely different turn.

he’s ruined you for any other person. he’s trained you to orgasm with a simple bite of his fangs. your body has correlated the painful spread of his venom with pleasure. george has tied you to him for the rest of your life. this is a huge fucking problem. his mind starts racing; if that’s the case he either needs to work that out of you, or he can never feed from you in situations like this again. you’ll be useless for the rest of the day, your brain has turned into jello. he needs to make sure that he manages his blood supply properly in the future, so he doesn’t have to drink from you where the media can discover how gone you are.

george has no idea how he would go about un-training your…pleasurable…response to his bite. on second thought, george doesn’t want to change your newfound reflex. if anything, it’s like an equal exchange. the vampire satiates his thirst, and you satiate your thirst. george coos at you adoringly when he hears the near inaudible moans your breathing into his neck—yeah, he thinks you’ll agree with him when you’re aware enough to do so.

he finds himself tracing the fresh bite mark with a thumb, groaning when your hips grind against him in return. he fumbles his phone out of his pocket to tell toto he needs at least another twenty minutes.

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bastillewolf · 3 years

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It’s More About Looks Than Skill (X)

Pairing: Ryuk/Reader

Summary: Ryuk finds himself gaining feelings for Light Yagami’s best friend, but she doesn’t know he exists. When he makes the grave mistake of touching her, he makes things a lot more complicated.

Notes: New year new chapter, but let’s hope I update more frequently than that now lol. Please leave me a kick in the ass so I stop procrastinating, thanks! And also big thank you to the immense support. Love you guys <3

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Chapter X

She really couldn’t help herself. What sane person wouldn’t start screaming the second they hopped onto a Shinigami’s back and started flying? She clung onto Ryuk’s neck for dear life, her legs wrapped around his middle while his wings flapped them higher and higher until they’d reached a thick level of fluffy clouds with the dark sky above them. There, the wings stopped flapping, and she found herself gliding through the air, her hair being pulled back by the gentle breeze. She realized how harshly she was squeezing Ryuk, and quickly loosened her grip to a point that she was still comfortable she wouldn’t be able to accidentally let go.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured in his ear. It was actually very beautiful, now that she took a good look around her. Below the white, she could see all sorts of lights from the city flickering through, as if they were mirroring the stars above.

“I can take it. I just wasn’t expecting you to scream, is all,” Ryuk replied gently, “I thought you wanted to fly?”

“Y-Yes, I did. It’s just… a lot scarier than it looks. I don’t have wings, so rationally if I let go I would definitely not survive. I think even L could confirm that with percentages and a graph.”

“Rationally I would catch you. I’m heavier, I fall faster than you. You would be saved before you could say ‘Shinigami’.”

She chuckled, “Rationally I wouldn’t count on that. Maybe I don’t trust you. Rationally.”

He turned his head slightly, but she was still unable to see his facial expression from her position on his back. However, it became rather apparent through the sad note in his voice when he spoke. “You don’t trust me?”

She quickly shook her head, “No, I’m sorry Ryuk, that’s not what I meant. I mean that I should rationally not count on you catching me if I fall. I made the decision to hop on your back, thus it is my responsibility to take responsibility for my actions and face the consequences. If I fall, it would be my mistake.”

“Even if it were, I’d still catch you. I’d always catch you.”

She felt a sense of ease wash over her, along with a tingle in her stomach, but she wasn’t quite sure what that meant. She smiled, resting her head on his shoulder, and breathing in a waft of fresh air that dragged along a hint of Light’s cologne. “How come you’re never this nice to Light?”

Ryuk chuckled dryly. “Because he’s not you.”

He felt a blush coat his cheeks when he felt her hands running along the feathers of his wings in a slow, gentle manner. She kept doing this until they’d landed, and then proceeded to latch onto his hand after they’d landed in the back of an alleyway.

Even if you do not actually possess the Death Note, the effect will be the same if you recognize the person and his/her name to place in the blank.

Ryuk was in love. There, he could finally say it. He’d been on a date and now he could say he was in love. He was slightly hunched over so the girl could hold his hand without people noticing at her side, but not for one second did he feel an ache in his back. All he could think about was the way she’d clung onto him, how she’d touched him, how sweet she’d sounded muttering nothings in his ear while she stroked his feathers. Affection wasn’t something that came naturally to him, Shinigami’s never really deemed such thing necessary. Yet with her, he seemed to want to keep her hand in his forever.

Unfortunately, fate seemed to have other plans for him, because she was the one who dropped it like a ton of bricks, along with his heart. Then he noticed the reason for her sudden shift, and it was standing in front of Light’s house. She lightly tugged on the chain that was stuck to the other death note he was carrying and kept her fingers wound tightly around it, but he didn’t mind. If she wanted to take his Death Note, she could go right ahead and do it. That’s how happy he was.

Until he met the bleak pale-yellow eyes of the tall creature hovering above the blonde stranger in front of them.

***

“Okay, Ryuk, we need to have a little talk,” Light started. They’d just been at the hotel, where they’d found out the second Kira was willing to do everything Light wanted them to do. They were supposed to set up a meeting place and Light wanted to prepare. She knew a round of questioning was about to begin, so she plopped down onto his bed in an instant.

Ryuk sighed, “Should’ve known.”

“And I’d appreciate an answer if you could,” Light added. “If two Shinigami happened to meet in the human world, are they allowed to speak to each other?”

“Hard to say,” the Shinigami replied. “As long as I’m attached to a human, I’d say it’s against the rules unless I had their permission first. But there are no laws against it either, so I guess it’s possible that another Shinigami might talk to me.”

“So, does that mean that if this fake Kira’s Shinigami were to see you, there’s a chance he might mention the fact that you’re with me and reveal that I’m Kira?”

“They probably wouldn’t, but it depends on their personality.”

“And if this kind of situation did arise I can assume you’ll act the way you normally do?”

“Yeah,” Ryuk said, “Even if I see another human with a Shinigami I’m not gonna tell you.”

“Well, I definitely think you’ve got the right approach.”

“Humph, thanks.”

***

“Oops,” he couldn’t help but curse under his breath, recalling the conversation he’d had with Light. He didn’t recognize the Shinigami before them, but if they wanted to, they could directly link Ryuk to the girl that was latching onto him. They might think she was the real Kira.

Though the latest message had already revealed Light’s stunt in the city with the group of people surrounding Ryuk had been a failure and he had been discovered to the fake Kira, there would be no good explanation for him to be hanging around this human.

Luckily for him, the other Shinigami remained deathly silent, until the girl at her side turned.

“Oh, hello there!” she said.

She blinked in response. “Uh… I- Uh… Aren’t you that girl from TV?”

The blonde giggled profusely, suddenly walking up to her as casual as could be. “Yes, I’m Misa, nice to meet you! Do you want an autograph?”

She scratched the back of her head awkwardly, “Uh, no, I think I’m good. Were you looking for Light?”

“Eh?” Ryuk vocalized. He didn’t expect her to be so blunt about it. But then again, he realized, Light had most likely already been discovered. He just didn’t know how she detected that this was the second Kira without being able to see the second Shinigami floating only a few feet away.

“Oh, I was. Are you friends with him?” Misa’s head turned, but her eyes held a sudden blank expression as if her mind were calculating a proper physical response once she’d gotten answers.

“Yeah, for like, my entire life. How do you know him?”

“Oh… I just, I found the notebook he left in class. Then I looked him up online and I thought his resume was very… impressive. I just really wanted to meet him, he seems like such an intelligent guy.”

Ryuk heard the other Shinigami audibly sigh.

“Well, why don’t I introduce the two of you then? I’m sure he’s still up at this hour, and I was just on my way to see him now.”

“S-Sure!” Misa replied hesitantly.

She wished Light’s sister, Sayu, could’ve at the very least toned down her excitement a bit when she met Misa, but alas, she was in awe, as well as the girl’s mother. Light eventually came trotting down the stairs behind them, his neutral facial expression continuing to withstand even as he saw the strange scene before him. He managed to shoo his family members away and closed the front door behind him. She could’ve sworn she hadn’t heard crickets chirping before that.

“Uhm, pleased to meet you,” Misa started, sinking to her knees in a bow, “I’m Misa Amane.” She then glanced at you, and back at Light again.

Ryuk chuckled until he heard the other God of Death say, “Misa, the girl is being followed by another Shinigami. I doubt she isn’t aware of it.”

Misa made a noise of understanding, before looking at the odd placement of your hand which was still wrapped around Ryuk’s chain. “I thought you might get worried if you saw that message on TV. I just couldn’t take it anymore so I brought… this notebook.” She held out an identical copy of his Death Note in front of Light, and Ryuk heard the girl next to him audibly groan. Of course, the girl had no issue showing something like that out in the open. It was like she had no idea.

Light touched it, yet he made no sound. “Does she know? About all of it?” Misa questioned, directedly pointing her gaze at his best friend. Light nodded, so she was allowed to touch it as well. She very much tried, but unfortunately, her poker face wasn’t as good as Light’s, so she ended up with her mouth slightly agape. Ryuk lifted a finger to close it.

They decided it would be best to move the conversation inside, so they did, and Light had cautiously locked his bedroom door behind them after making sure his mother and sister thought this was just a nice drop-by from his (girl)friend.

“Have a seat.”

As Misa sat in Light’s desk chair, his best friend scooted onto the mattress behind him with Ryuk towering over them at the bedside. Her Shinigami, a pale skeleton with yellow eyes and purple hair and what appeared to be vampiric teeth, stood guard behind Misa.

“How did you find me?” Light decided to ask.

She answered with a gasp, “I knew it! You never made the Shinigami-eye deal. When you have the Shinigami-eyes like I do, you can see most people’s name and lifespan just by looking at them. However, you can’t see the lifespan of any person who possesses a Death Note.”

Light glanced over at Ryuk, looking for an explanation, but Ryuk seemed just as shocked. “No kidding! I have to admit, even I wasn’t aware of that little detail.”

“Well, now you’ve managed to find me, but you were careless; what if you’d been caught by the police? Then they’d know everything about Kira!”

“It’s all right,” Misa said, “Because the police didn’t catch me and if I do as you say from now on, they’ll never be able to. So we’re safe. After all, don’t you need someone to see L’s name? If you want, I could be your eyes. So…”

“Yeah? So what?”

“-Would you please make me your girlfriend?”

Both Ryuk and the girl behind him burst out laughing, but he decidedly ignored them. He then proceeded to question her about her strategy in the city, as well as the evidence she could’ve left behind. She ended up even offering her Death Note to him, and while she’d still be the rightful owner, Light would be in control of it, and she of her Shinigami-eyes.

“-And if I become a burden to you, you can just kill me, okay?” Misa said pleadingly.

“But you might’ve removed several pages from your Death Note, you could be hiding them somewhere for all I know!”

“Why are you so suspicious of me?” she cried out, getting up from the chair and stomping her foot on the floor, “I already told you, I don’t care even if all you do is use me! Please believe me!”

“Why are you so willing to give up your life for him?” (Y/N) asked, and Light had to admit, that was the question he’d been building towards this entire time.

“Oh, I wouldn’t expect you to understand-“ Misa spat.

“Hey,” Light barked, “If you want to show your loyalty, how about you start being nicer to the only person I’ve trusted with my secret so far and has kept it?”

“How can you be so sure you can trust her?! I bet she’s only in it so she can take it from you after you’re dead, so she can become the new Kira!”

“How dare you!” (Y/N) snarled warningly, but Misa was already launching herself at the girl.

Light hadn’t quite seen that coming. Thankfully, Ryuk had. He took the blonde girl by her arm and lifted her until her feet didn’t touch the floor anymore and she’d let out a startled scream. He noticed the other Shinigami wanted to step in already, but Light was faster. “Misa, if you and I were to work together, I need to know you can make rational decisions without letting your emotions get the better of you. Can you do that?”

She didn’t really look at him, so he decided to repeat himself, this time a bit more convincingly, “If you were to be my girlfriend, I need to know if you can tolerate being around my best friend.”

At this, she lit up, and Ryuk was quick to let go of her.

When she’d finally left, the girl he’d just been on a date with was now slung around his neck, having climbed on top of the bed to be able to reach him. His large hands grasped her sides, and his smile had grown even wider.

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ahundredtimesover · 3 years

Text

Friday Nights and Take-Out Drabble (1)

You watch too many crime shows, you know that?

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: strangers to friends to lovers, popstar/idol!jk, fluff, angst, future smut; this is a dialogue-heavy series so read if you’re into that!

Warnings: foul language, heavy drinking, perceived home invasion

Word count: 1,400 too long

Series summary: You meet pop star/idol Jeon Jungkook at the cafe, you get close, and as Hyejin says, you’re like friends with benefits without the sex. But you’re bad at feelings and so is he.

series masterlist

A/N: Flashback to the week before! And idk but this home scene plays out funny in my head

Obsidian eyes look back at you, lulling you into a haze. Even with the blinding lights, they aren’t hard to miss. They’re so round and so dark and so shiny and so...

“Hey, you alive?” He asks, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Yes,” you nod rapidly. “You have very pretty eyes,” you say, raising your hand to try and poke them, see if your finger will pierce through.

“Yah! I need those,” he says, grabbing your hand and keeping them at your side, a laugh escaping his lips.

“But they’re so round and so dark and so shiny and so…” you say dreamily. You feel lightheaded. Everything looks so fuzzy and faint.

He stops you again. He’s seen enough to know you’re completely out of it; you rarely compliment him, especially when it comes to his looks. That’s definitely a tell. “Alright, time to go.” He stands up and pulls your arm.

He stops on his tracks, thinking how this might look, not just to others but to you, even if you might not remember this in the morning.

Jungkook turns to the table on the far right of the bar and starts waving his arms. The next thing you know, Jaehyun is in front of you, mumbling about some heiress and that Jungkook is the only one sane enough to take your shit-faced, deadweight ass home. You trust this guy with your life so you let Jungkook lead the way.

And that’s the last thing you remember.

You wake up to the absolute worst headache of your life.

You think back to the night before and the annual New Year’s celebration you had with your friends. A little late due to the food poisoning fiasco last week, but at your favorite high-end bar (which you only go to because of the discounted, sometimes free, drinks; otherwise, your cheap ass would never), every week feels like the New Year.

It was that one night you allowed yourselves to let loose and have fun before you go back to being responsible adults for the rest of the year, most of the time at least. And you know, based on the constant pounding in your head and how disgusting you feel, you definitely had a good night.

It’s then you realize you’re shivering, blanket merely covering half of your body. Despite that, you feel nasty, sweat from last night’s dancing already dried up, the stench of alcohol stuck on your clothes, and god, is that drool?

You turn to your bedside table, a glass of water catching your attention, thankful for whoever brought you home last night - it was Jaehyun right?

You groan, however, for the aspirin that you didn’t see. He must’ve forgotten.

You proceed to take your clothes off, already moaning to the thought of a hot shower, freshly brewed coffee, and probably some sausage and eggs for breakfast - or lunch, whatever time it is.

Hair in a bun and clad in your mismatched laced underwear, you walk out of your room to chug more water and take the aspirin that Jaehyun definitely forgot to bring out for you. But as you do, you pause in your tracks. Something feels different.

There’s this sense that something's amiss as you try to figure out in which drawer you keep your medicines in and look around your little apartment. You grab a knife from one of them for good measure, ready to fight whoever or whatever faces you. You know it’s not Jaehyun, otherwise you would have woken up next to him, a common occurrence and non-issue for the both of you.

Your eyes scan the vicinity again, and then you see it - tall and chunky black boots sitting by your front door, and right when your eyes zero in on those unfamiliar looking items, you hear a creak and the sound of a doorknob turning.

You immediately hide in the corner of the kitchen counters, cursing yourself for the excess grocery you bought that’s stacked inside your floor cabinets that you now can’t hide in. The floorboards creak - you should’ve had them fixed last month - and you feel your heart race a million miles a minute, breath hitching at the sound of footsteps approaching you.

For some reason, you think to close your eyes - do you really wanna see your killer before you die? - and cover your mouth with your hand to keep any sound from escaping. At least you see this one coming, you think, and you at least have some lingerie on - there’s no Psycho shower killing scene happening today.

“Y/N…” you hear a low, raspy voice; not too close but not that far either. So you do something stupid, thinking your intruder is at a safe distance… unless they have a gun, of course.

You brace yourself and immediately stand, right hand with the knife and left fist formed, ready to fight. “Don’t you dare come any closer, I have a black belt in Taekwondo!” You shout.

“What the fuck, Y/N!” An alarmed voice shouts back at you.

You open your left eye, then your right, and you crouch down on the counter with one arm on your chest, panic and stress now slowly being replaced with relief that your intruder isn’t actually an intruder but just Jungkook.

Surely you would have recognized the signature black boots, right? But your head is still spinning and you don’t remember much from how last night ended. This isn’t the first time he’s come over but it’s definitely the first time he stayed over. Wait - he stayed over?

Your chest is still heaving; your mind is in a daze because you seriously thought you were going to die.

“Yah! Can you please drop the knife!”

It’s only then you realize you’re still pointing the knife towards him. You look up and you see the shock and fear in his eyes, and it registers to you the same time as it does to him. And you scream.

“What the fuck, Jungkook! Turn around now!”

He seems to snap out of his own daze, the panic in his eyes unmistakable. “Shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize! Fuck fuck fuck!” He shouts and then runs to your couch, his back to you.

You head back to your room to slip on some clothes, steady your breathing, and give yourself a pep talk. “It’s okay,” you tell yourself. “You’re alive and well and you weren’t completely naked. You’re okay,” you repeat to yourself.

You check your phone and scroll through your friends’ group chat, photos of last night causing you to laugh at how fun and crazy it apparently was. One of the last messages was that of Jaehyun’s: “Y/N, Jungkook took you home, don’t freak out.” Well, too late bud.

You open the door to your living room and see Jungkook pacing back and forth. He jumps a little when he hears the floorboards creak and he turns to you.

“Look, Chae lost her car keys, Hyejin drunkenly proposed to Minho, you were drunk and Jaehyun hooked up with some girl so he gave me your house key but I couldn’t lock your door without taking the key with me and it felt weird and I…” he rambles, stopping when he sees you smiling at him. He looks so shy and nervous, nothing like the confident pop star you were partying with last night.

“I don’t want you to think I was, uh, you know…” he continues, hand scratching the back of his neck. “Planning something?” you finish for him. He nods.

“Jungkook, I had all my clothes on, I was sort of covered in a blanket, there was water prepared… you planned on taking care of me after being given the unwanted responsibility of taking my drunk ass home,” you say. You meet his eyes. “Thank you.”

You see him release the breath he’s been holding in, relief washing over him at your assurance that you knew all he wanted was to help you, not help himself.

There was a short silence. “So… A black belt in Taekwondo, huh?” He laughs.

“A lie, hence the knife.”

“Seriously, Y/N, and what would that do? You watch too many crime shows, you know that?”

“Hmm, guess I do.” You respond.

He flashes you his bunny smile. It’s a cute one, you think, the one where his nose scrunches up a little bit. You decide it’s now one of your favorite things, aside from his eyes, of course.

part 1 <<>> part 2

series masterlist

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts fic #bts jungkook

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owo--bot · 3 years

Text

Loyal as a Dog // Sanzu Haruchiyo x Reader

Chapter 16-17

wc: 2.5k

Tags: slowburn (the literal slowest), friends to lovers, coming of age, hurt & comfort, fluff, light and dark themes, plot heavy

TW // codependency, they're both semi toxic, underage drinking, obsessive behavior, untreated mental health issues,

Chapter Sixteen: Until My Fingers Decay

I’ll hold your hand until my fingers decay.

I neglect the things that hurt,

Love is all that remains.

I've been clean all my life;

I don't remember yesterday.

How many years do we get to live? It's different for everyone, huh? I think all of them should matter, and I think all should be great. That's also why closing a year is just as important.

Every New Year's Eve should be memorable, or maybe not. Alcohol has that effect on people.

Time was slipping by, hours dwindling into the new year already but the exact hour was up in the air. In consideration to the time police a rough estimate would be:

Late.

Any sane person could be found spending time with their families and eating good food, come the morning they’d watch the sun rise and pay respects to their local shrine. Textbook definition of a happy and fun New Year. Your family was navigating off of a blank sheet of paper.

The moon was picturesque, staring down at the playground dressed in white.

The night was spent drinking enough beer to get this thing Sanzu referred to as a 'buzz'. It's that; I wouldn’t normally laugh at that. Warm and cozy. Was my balance always this bad? I’m talking way too much. 1-up confidence boost. God I feel good—

—sort of feeling.

Laughs escaped your lips breaking into the air through icy breaths. Snow crunched beneath your back, it should’ve felt cold but to the duo who were one rent check short of becoming hobos.

They were immune.

Despite the cheerful demeanor the two basked in, the topic at hand was quite the serious matter.

“C'mon Mr. Sanzu, just one cat. Please ."

If it were a battle of begging you would have won hours ago. Unfortunately thus is not the way of the world.

“That’ll go well. How about learning how to take care of yourself first.”

“No way, ya gotta take care of me forever Boss. It’s in the contract.”

“S’that so? I might have to rip it up then.”

“Ya can’t. I hid it.”

“In your head? You sure it’s safe there?”

Luckily for you it's impossible to destroy something that never existed in the first place. Made up on the spot, this one sided mental contract was immune from any havoc from the psychical world.

Confidence scaling in the thousands you responded, "yup, I tucked it away so as long as ya can't read minds-”

Slicing into the thousand scale confidence your assertion was cut short as Sanzu interfered with an unsettling question:

“Want to know a secret?”

“Mr. Sanzu, don’t say ya can read minds,” you laughed nervously.

“So you knew already?” he responded flatly.

Sitting up you began blubbering out, “this is bad, like—bad, bad,” ruffling your fingers through your hair, this was a nightmare.

Watching you steadily unfold, the audience of one seemed to be enjoying the show as a chuckle fell from his lips.

“Hiding something from me?” he smiled in amusement.

“No it's just—some thoughts should stay in my head, ya'know?" weeping internally, the stress in your tone was evident, "please don't read my thoughts, I'm begging ya."

"Relax, I was joking."

Dismissing your meltdown Sanzu sat up, brushing off excess flakes from his attire.

"Oh," you answered blankly.

The poorly improvised bed crunched beneath your roommate's feet as he stood up. Rubbing his eyes the groggy blonde trailed away.

"Whaddya doin'?" you asked, following his lead.

"M'trying not to fall asleep," he slurred sitting down on a neighboring bench.

"Okey-dokey, should we go home?"

Leaning back Sanzu stared into the depth of a winter sky, light pollution held out on the vastness of stars it had to offer.

Blonde lashes fluttered as he answered, "we only came here because you wanted to watch the sun rise."

You nodded, "that's what everyone does on New Year right?"

"We don't have to do what everyone else does." Catching his gaze as your expression lost its vibrance he added, "it's fine if you want to."

Your lip trembled, battling to express passion fueled words, "you're seriously the best Mr. Sanzu,"

"If you start crying we're leaving," he threatened.

"Got it," you sniffed, banning the creeping existence of joyous tears.

The flickering of a vending machine shed light onto the trail of footprints as you accompanied your bench dwelling roommate. The world felt empty at this hour, the only bystander being the passing wind.

"Are you happy?" Sanzu asked, his head bobbed forward in a fight against drowsiness.

"The happiest," you grinned, " are you happy?"

Sanzu hummed in response, " M'gonna lay down. Wake me up in a few minutes."

Sanzu's body gave in slumping to the side, his head plopped down onto your lap. Face flushed with booze, the slow rise and fall of his chest was paired with heavy breaths.

You felt a certain stillness, the feeling that if you moved this would just become a memory.

This was all you needed,

This was all you wanted,

Just the two of you like this forever,

That would make you the happiest.

Your heart felt the warmest with him, you hoped his did too. A cozy thought, a cozy feeling, and it was all yours.

Consciousness pulled at you in the shape of a firm grip on your arm. Raising your head, the backrest of a bench was no substitute for a pillow and the pain stabbing at your neck was proof.

Familiar blue eyes were glassy as they peered into you.

“What happened to waking me up?”

What happened… well for starters he was waking you up.

“Sorry Boss,” you yawned, “I messed up.”

The weather was rigid, the discomfort of shaking had you in it’s clutches. Pale blue mixed with peach foreshadowed the ever approaching sun, the first sun of the year.

“Feel like complete shit,” Sanzu mumbled slouching forward, face buried within his hands.

“Nice to meet ya New Year, we’re complete cold shit."

Whether or not the sun acknowledged you wasn’t a concern. You were happy you were here, freezing, hungover and sleep deprived, it was well worth the fever that’d come later.

Here’s to another year of happy memories;

With you, with me, with everyone.

Chapter Seventeen: Until it Gets Quiet

I wish it was quiet,

Until it gets loud.

I measure grass,

It's not allowed to grow.

I listen to crickets,

They tell me to dance.

I like playing games,

Avoid the creaks or you might crack.

I get sick,

Until I get better.

I ask fish,

How they breathe.

I can't sing,

Listening is better.

I read without words,

Those stories are strange.

I wish it was loud,

Until it gets quiet.

Trash cans clattering against cement is a tune that breeds curiosity. Sneaking a peek behind the convenience store, your curiosity is quenched.

Two boys roughin' it out—no wait, not quite.

One's bent over on the ground, his arms worked to shield his head against relentless stomping and kicking.

Stuck in a loop, one groveled while the other beat him shitless.

The entire sight was pathetic.

It wasn’t your place to help.

Sike .

Acting with no regards to thinking, you were a creature immune to change.

What makes this convenience store so convenient isn’t the products it holds within. No, it’s the aid its walls served against this nobodys face. It’s the cement that cushioned his fall. It’s the space it offered, allowing you to be just as merciless as him. Lastly, it’s the view it gave of the nobody in question scurrying off and clinging to an excuse like I don’t hit girls .

This convenience store held true to its name.

For the second nobody on the list—

"Are… are you sure you're okay? There's blood." asked the bruised banana of a boy.

"Positive," you grinned, shooting him a thumbs up, "it's not mine."

"Why did you help me?"

"Hmm… ya'know when ya see something weaker than you being stepped on?”

Wide eyed and crumbling, the boy's shoulders hung in disappointment. His spirit shattered long before you spoke but now a gust of wind was more than enough to blow him away.

“So, pity?”

“Dunno, it was just real sad to watch,” you shrugged dismissively, “so why’d ya get beat up?”

“I wouldn’t give him my paycheck and-”

“Stop!” hands raised, they acted as defence against meaningless backstory. “I don’t care about motives. I’m asking why ya laid there like a worm.”

“Well that’s…” rubbing his neck he looked at anything other than you, "I couldn't do anything else."

slamming a fist down into your palm, you reached an enlightened state of being.

"I got it—you're a worm in a human suit."

No matter how solid your discovery, it's yet to be globally accepted. Unfond of such theories, the worm pulled off a flawless imitation of what distress looks like.

"Just kidding ♡," you chimed. "I know you're a person."

Set free from worm accusations, he adopted nervous laughter as a coping mechanism.

"But you're still a worm," you stated.

"I'm not a worm, I just don't like violence."

"Well, maybe you should start."

Inducing hostility into a worm, your eyes lit up grasping the threads of enlightenment once more.

Robbed of his ability to respond, a jumble of incoherent words failed to replicate a reply. Shutting up the letter simulator, you offered him a chummy slap on the back.

"Kidding again ♡."

"Oh."

"But seriously—

—consider it."

With your personality vaguely fleshed out the boy smiled at your words, certain you were joking this time. Certain that violence was the answer to his dilemma, you silently chalked this one up as a joke.

Staring at the nametag on his shirt you asked.

"Do ya work here?"

He nodded, "I'm one of the cashier's."

"Pfft—" you attempted to contain a build up of laughter, latched onto the reality he received a shakedown of a beatdown at the backdoor of his workplace.

"I know. It's pathetic-"

"Hey," your eyes sparkled with corrupt intent, "how about an exchange of services?"

He nodded, "sounds fair but—I'm kind of broke now."

"Bummer," you sighed.

"Wait, I should be getting paid again soon, so anything you want, it'll be on me," slipping a phone out of his pocket he continued, "if you give me your contact information I-"

Familiar arms draped around your shoulders, working as an immediate tranquilizer for you and the certified worm.

"Didn't I tell you to wait out front?" blonde strands kissed your ear as Sanzu loomed over your shoulder.

Your roommate was too powerful. He's a force that two lesser beings stood no chance against, diminishing them into a flustered silence.

Concealing the color spreading to his cheeks the cashier bowed slightly.

"Sorry, that was my fault. I-"

Disregarding the other lifeform, Sanzu had more important things in mind; leaving.

"C'mon."

Sanzu pulled your hand along with him, leaving your 'anything you want' ticket behind.

"Hey um, Boss," you gulped, "is everything okay?"

Hand in hand you walked a few steps behind, passing by rows of excessively advertised shops and eateries.

"Why wouldn't it?"

"It's just… ya'know—" your words trailed off.

"No, I don't know,"

Demeanor short, he played a trapping game of cluelessness. Is this considered psychological warfare? Taking a deep breath in you verbalized the abnormal phenomenon at hand.

"You normally get super mad when I'm being clingy."

Wars aren't meant to be won.

Swift to abandon your hand he continued to walk as you were left feeling empty.

"Wait, no—I take it back."

Blue eyes resemble death—your death, a successful deterrent when you don't want to be touched. Warm weather put winter out of its misery, with it went your excuse of 'it's cold outside'. Winter was cruel but Spring might be cruelest, the seasonal excuse for holding hands is at an end. Today was an abnormality but the fault of demise was your own.

"The way he was looking at you."

"The way he was looking at me?"

"It was obnoxious."

You still didn't get it but if Sanzu said it was obnoxious then by the rules of the world it was obnoxious.

"So if people look at me obnoxiously, you'll hold my hand?"

Silence being the answer, you dropped the obnoxious ammo you were loading.

"Boo, I've been denied."

Internal mourning aside, you went on to explain the series of events that took place at the convenience store. Amidst your storytelling session it caught your eye.

A poster hung on for dear life as it flapped away on the exterior of a passing shop. It's dreadfully plain. A black base and white lettering, it looked handmade;

But

That word,

It stuck out.

You knew it.

Atone.

This feels—

—disgusting.

Someone's hand wrapped around the back of your neck—wait no. It's just,

A presence.

No one's there.

Your shoulders tensed without permission.

Your mouth felt dry.

Why…?

"Sounds pathetic," Sanzu paused, not missing a beat, "what?"

Looking to you for an answer, words fumbled out, not the way you wanted.

"I'm not… Sanzu, something's not right this isn't…"

It wasn't working. Again—your body wasn't working right. Why is it doing this? It's yours right? So why isn't it working like it should?

Detour readily accessible, Sanzu deemed a back alley suitable for whatever the hell's going on.

Corners of his eyes crinkled as he offered you a smile, "everything's fine, yeah?"

No.

Quelling your nerves being the sole objective, skin around your nails fell victim to your discomfort. Clattering thoughts felt like a survival simulation as you clawed for a meaning.

"Atone—what is that?"

Sanzu's expression dropped upon hearing that word, taking a moment before he could respond.

"It's bad, I can feel it. Why is this—"

"Hey," Sanzu's hands found themselves to your shoulders as dull eyes gazed into you, "that was the name of the movie you watched last night."

….

"Oh..." you offered half of a smile, "my bad."

"Dumbass," backing off, his soft expression dead and buried, "stop watching that shit before bed."

Scary loses its tack when the budget consists of joint lunch money, so it's no surprise you forgot the name. Closure aided your heart rate in decelerating;

Crisis subdued.

Picking up the coping skill of a certain worm, you delivered a nervous chitter that resembled a laugh.

"I'm sorta embarrassed now."

"Yeah? You should be."

Though a mask concealed key features, his eyebrows were a dead giveaway of the sunken frown reaching depths of an abyss.

"But… are ya sure that's it?"

Stimulation levels were in the negatives last night, fear nonexistent. But that —that was suffocating.

"Hm?" his head cocked to the side as he asked a question you despised, "you don't trust me?"

"I trust ya more than anyone in the world."

Short and absolute, your words hold the weight of all that exists. An unquestionable truth carved into your being.

"Then why are you questioning it?"

It was rare for a movie to scare you like that but it really—

—didn't.

"My bad—again."

"As long as you know," He huffed. A clash between harsh and soothing he offered initiative, "let's go, you can pick something out at one of the stores."

Today's affairs were tucked away. A future that's oh-so bright is in clear view beside the one you love most.

#s:loyal as a dog #sanzu #sanzu haruchiyo #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers sanzu #akashi haruchiyo #sanzu x reader #tokyorev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader

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dcnatural · 3 years

Text

Soaking Wet

Word Count: 2189

Pairing: John Constantine x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Synopsis: During a storm in London, you find cover in your ex-boyfriend’s apartment.

There were many things you loved about London, but the weather was definitely not one of them. There had been no sign of rain when you left your hotel room for an evening stroll, the sun shone brightly on the clear sky. Then, almost by magic, the clouds turned gray, the wind began to hurl, and a heavy rain started pouring down.

Puddles of water splashed under your feet as you ran through the streets desperate to find shelter. The icy rain pricked your skin like projectiles, the strong winds blowing it at fast speeds. Strands of wet hair clung together in front of your face, blocking your vision and no matter how many times you tried to tuck them behind your ear, they fell off again.

Being mostly a residential area, there were no stores for you to seek shelter in and the open sidewalks offered no protection. By the time you finally found cover under the awning of a four-storey brick building, even your socks were drenched. Although the draped fabric prevented the water from falling directly above you, it did nothing to shield you from the gusts of wind and the droplets of rain it brought along.

You hugged your coat tightly around your body in an attempt to keep yourself warm. You hadn’t dressed for the weather, your clothes weren’t thick enough to act as an efficient barrier from the cold. Not even your cardigan seemed to do anything against the rapidly dropping temperature.

You considered walking into the building instead of simply hiding in front of it. The wooden door, however, was locked and without a key, you found yourself stuck where you were. Your battery had run out and, as such, you couldn’t even call yourself an Uber.

When you first heard his voice calling your name, you assumed that you had simply drifted off and were dreaming - no, if he was in it, then it must be a nightmare. But then he called again, each syllable coated heavily in his british accent, and you are pulled out of your musings.

Water beads clung to your eyelashes blurring your vision and you had to squint to see better, but there was no denying that it was actually him. His dirty blond hair was a disheveled mess on top of his head and his trademark trench coat flowed ever-so-gently behind him. A lit cigarette hung from his lips, which were slightly curled into a smirk.

“John Constantine,” you replied in a mist of distrust and awe. It had been so long since your mouth had last formed those words that your muscles seemed to fight against it, as if trying to remind you what had happened the last time you did so.

He took a drag of his cigarette and puffed out, encircling the two of you in a grayish smoke and you coughed. “That’s me, luv.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” he stated, grabbing a pair of keys from his pockets and rattling them in front of you, the tiny metal pieces clinking against one another.

Your mouth opened in a silent “oh”. Of course that, out of all the apartment buildings in London, you would end up stranded underneath his. The wind picked up and a chilling breeze blew across you, causing you to shiver.

“How ‘bout you?” he continued, “Are you stalking me? ‘Cause it would have been easier if you just called.”

You roll your eyes at his insinuation. “Oh please, as if I’d want anything to do with you again. I was just walking and got lost. And then this damned storm started.” As if prompted by your words, a lightning struck the sky, followed closely by the deafening sound of a thunder and you jolted in surprise.

Constantine chuckled and you furrowed your brows. “It’s not funny!” you groaned. “It’s freezing out here and I’m soaking wet!”

He raised an eyebrow but before he could make a sound, you were at it again. “Don’t even start. You know what I meant.”

“I don’t think I do, luv. Why don’t you show me how wet you are?”

You couldn’t believe his audacity. Making jokes and flirting when the last time you spoke to him he had acted like a complete bastard. Not to mention that you were clearly in distress. “Fuck. Off.” you replied harshly, crossing your arms and turning away from him.

“I can’t leave you out here to freeze to death, it would weigh heavy on my conscience.”

“Since when do you have one?” you bickered.

“Do you wanna come inside or not?" he continued as if he hadn't heard your interruption. "I have some beers in the freezer and we could catch up while waiting for the storm to die out.”

You should’ve said no. But the cold was just too harsh and you could feel your toes going numb. Letting out a small sigh, you nodded.

"Fine. But that doesn't mean I forgive you or anything like that."

"Noted," he said, his smile widening a bit. You bit your lip to keep yourself from saying something nasty about him. There was a huge list of unflattering adjectives you could call him, all of which would be true.

He unlocked the entrance and you rushed inside, immediately feeling better now that you were out of the wind's reach. John tried to make small talk as the two of you climbed the stairs up to his floor but you ignored his questions, dismissing most of them with a nod or a wave of hand.

His apartment wasn't the mess you expected. The small living room was tidy, there were no dishes on the kitchen sink and the floor wasn't littered with cigarette butts. It even smelled nice: lavender and blueberries, reminiscing of a warm summer day in the countryside.

You removed your muddy shoes and went inside. He turned on the heater and went to get the promised beers from the fridge. You sat on the carpet in front of the radiator and enjoyed the warmth. Constantine handed you an open bottle and you took it, shallowing half of it in one go, not minding the bitter taste.

Despite the heat, you were still pretty much chilled to the bone, your damp clothes preventing you from fully warming up. You coughed and shifted uncomfortably, hoping he didn’t notice your discomfort. Nor the increasingly damp patch that was forming underneath you in the carpet.

"You should take off your clothes", John suggested casually as he studied you.

You almost choked on your drink. "Excuse me?"

"You are dripping everywhere", he took the now empty bottle from your hand, "and they say that you should never stay in wet clothes when trying to warm up. Do you wanna take a warm shower? I can lend you something to wear."

You squinted. You simply weren’t used to him being this… kind? Prestative? You didn’t even know what to call it. And once more, instead of declining his offer like any sane human being, you said yes.

He led you down the hallway to his bedroom, with its walls covered in posters of classic punk rock bands and sorcery books scattered around the floor, and to the annexed bathroom.

“I’ll leave a change of clothes on the bed for you,” he said before closing the bathroom door.

You locked the door, checking twice to ensure it couldn’t be open, and waited until you heard him move to the hallway before undressing. The shower was hot and you welcomed the scalding water, letting it run down your body and wash the cold away. You tried not to think of how his soap smelled like him - citric and earthy; as long as you had known John, he had always used the exact same brand of soap - and how you would smell like him afterwards.

Despite that, you couldn’t deny that it was pleasant to have a shower, and when you were done, you already felt better. Careful to keep your back to the door, just in case his intentions were less chivalrous than he was letting out, you picked the white button-up shirt he had separated for you and got dressed. It was clearly an old, worn-out piece and you could see the markings of cigarette burns and of the places where the fabric had been thorn in combat and had been sewn back together. The garment was too big for your lithe frame, the hem hung just above your knees and the sleeves covered completely your hands, forcing you to roll them up in order to use your hands. He had left a pair of black pants but, given your lack of underwear, you chose not to put them on, the shirt did more than enough to cover your private parts. You pulled your hair in a loose bun to get the wet strands out of your neck and, after a quick glance at the mirror to ensure you were decent, walked back to the living room.

Constantine was slouched on the couch, watching television with a bottle of whiskey in hand. He smiled as you crossed the doorway and his gaze drifted over your body, lingering just a second too long on your cleavage and making you blush. He scooted to the end of the couch and patted the empty space besides him and, seeing no harm in it, you slumped against the cushions.

“Feeling better?”, he asked, passing the bottle to you, which you gladly took.

“I hate to say it, but you were right, everything feels better after a shower.”

On the screen, a man jumped from a helicopter while bombs exploded in the background, and despite not having seen the beginning of the movie, and although you weren’t exactly paying attention, you soon got the hang of the plot. Indeed, John’s presence on your side was quite disconcerting, and throughout the movie, as the bottle emptied out, you found yourself inching closer and closer to him, until your legs were touching.

As the action came to a climax and the hero saved his beloved, you felt Constantine’s hand sliding over your leg, fingers drawing little circles on your skin that sent goosebumps to your core.

“John,” you mumbled, leaning into his touch and sighing as he ventured further upward and his calloused fingers grazed your inner thigh.

“That’s right, luv, say my name,” his words were soft as he whispered them into your ear.

You shook your head. “No, we can’t.” You tried to shove him off, but didn’t put any real strength in it. You knew it was wrong, but his touch was just so good, and it felt so right.

Ignoring your plea, his free hand began to open the buttons of the shirt to expose your breasts. “Can’t or won’t ?”

You lost any ability to form cohesive sentences when his lips closed around your peaked nipple, nibbling at the raised nub. His tongue swirled over your breast and you found yourself gripping tightly at his dirty blond hair to keep him from pulling away.

While he continued to place kisses on your chest, his other hand slipped between your thighs, fingers dangerously close to your already dripping folds. He teased you, scraping his nails where he knew your skin to be the most sensitive until you were squirming under him, basically begging him to give you the relief you craved.

He detached his mouth from your body with an audible pop. “Tell me, still think we can’t?”

You rolled your eyes. “You win. Just-” Your sentence was cut short as he abruptly kissed you and, wrapping an arm around your waist, picked you up from the couch and carried your body to the bedroom.

You giggled as he laid you onto the bed, legs wide open and back propped up against pillows. His eyes were locked with yours as he spread your lower lips apart and dragged his tongue lazily over your entrance. Your hips jerked forward when he made contact with your clit and you moaned as he began to flick his tongue against it. He knew how to get you all worked up, kissing, biting and sucking on the right places to send your mind into heaven. Or perhaps hell.

Praises and profanities rolled out of your tongue as the pleasure built inside of you. Your nails scratched his shoulders leaving red trails of blood behind, urging him to continue. Dark spots formed on your vision as you reached your peak, back arching over the mattress and a lewd scream leaving your mouth.

He laid on your side, a wide grin plastered on his face. “It’s still storming outside, perhaps it would be better for you to spend the night. Just to be safe, you know,” he added with a mischievous wink.

“Shut up,” you replied, leaning over to kiss him, the taste of you still on his lips. “Just tonight. And only because it is freezing out there.”

He nodded half-heartedly and draped an arm around you, pulling you against him. “Sure. Someone has got to keep you warm.”

#John Constantine #constantine imagine #constantine x reader #john constantine x you #john constantine x reader #legends of tomorrow imagine #reader #Smut #dc #dc imagine

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jaeminscoffee · 4 years

Text

Cramps | k. dy

Pairings- Kim Dongyoung x Reader

Genre- Fluff, Crack.

Word count- 1.61k

Warnings- None. It’s a little cringe ig?

Synopsis- Period, Boyfriend, 3am, cuddles and snacks equals your haven

Type- Requested! (i edited the 25th prompt a little since that sentence had been overused! Sorry for that!)

@kpopscape

Getting a call from you past midnight was a regular for Doyoung. It would usually be to check up on him, whether he ate after practice, or if he’d slept enough and things like that. It came to a point where Doyoung would stare at his screen waiting for your call, worrying when he wouldn’t receive any from your side, not even a text.

Which is why he bolted to your apartment past 2 am to your apartment, after not receiving any sort of sign that you’re alive for the past 3 days. He’d tried calling you, yes. But he’d always be directed to your voice recording which only worried him more.

He should’ve been used to it now though, it was the same cycle every month. You’d given him a spare key to your apartment in case you’d changed the passcode (which just so happened to be his birthdate) and forgotten to let him know.

You were too indulged in feeling the pain of your period kicking through from time to time to even bother checking your phone. Worst of all was the fact you were all out of chocolates or anything to snack on except for dried fruit and peanuts. So buried in your pain, you cut off all human connections.

When your boyfriend opened the door to your apartment, it looked pretty normal. The kitchen was tidy, but a little empty. The living room looked like not a soul had sat there for months though you, alongside him, made a popcorn mess there not even a week ago. The room was what proved his theories correct. The floor scattered with empty salted peanut packets. Around five bottles of gatorade on your side table with a packet of pain killer beside it.

“My poor baby..” he let out mostly to himself, finding you in a blanket burrito, only your head peeking out, eyes closed which made him think you were asleep. He made his way inside, picking up the packets off the floor before disposing it in the garbage bin, doing the same with the bottles not before placing a chaste kiss on your lips that were puckered. He couldn’t help it, you looked like an extremely cute, depressed sushi.

Your eyes flew open from the sudden plush feeling on your lips to meet with the doe eyes you adored oh so much. He pulled away immediately seeing you stare him dead in the eyes, which had his eyes widen in both shock and guilt for waking you up. You found his reaction endearing as you smile up at him, pulling your hands out with great effort.

You see his lips moving, probably spurting out apologies but you hold your hands out to stop him from speaking, which earned a confused look from his side. You reach out to the side of your face, removing the airpod from both ears before placing it onto the now clean table. “Now, speak” you mumble.

He stares at you a little too long, dumbfounded, “You weren’t asleep?” he asks, unintentionally pulling a trigger as you’d caught not a glimpse of sleep since your period decided to come knocking at your door. You sit up, hissing at the feeling between your thighs.

“You’d THINK I’d have gotten sleep, huh?” you glare up to your ever so confused boyfriend. “Check the date, Doyoung it’s been 2 years. You should’ve known."

"No, I know you’re on your period. But why didn’t you get any sleep?” he inquires, sitting down beside you.

“I’m drowning in my sorrow because I’m too good for the humans to know of my celestial existence. The lord’s themselves sculpted me with great-”

“You ran out of snacks, didn’t you?” he gave you a bemused look, cutting off your ramble which had you whining. “Worst of all I don’t have shibers to cuddle!! It’s my brother’s week to take care of him and yes i did run out of snacks, did you get any for me?” you look at him, eyes practically shimmering in hope.

He puffs out a sharp breath, mentally facepalming as he’d forgotten to do so from the previous worry he had for you. “To be fair, I was genuinely too occupied wanting to know of your wellbeing to think of snacks” Doyoung justifies, as you whine once again. You mumbled something along the lines of “Doyoung you’re the worst boyfriend ever” or something while you turn your back at him. Once again burying yourself in your blankets.

He sat quiet as you kept letting out incomprehensible sentences when he got an idea. It’s just 3 am anyways.

“Y/n” he calls out to you, poking at your side to grab your attention. “Psst. Y/n~” he repeated, making you scoot away from him as you feigned anger at him.

“Want to go get some fries?” he offered, which made you pause your actions. You stay silent, waiting for his next words. “Only if you want to though, or we could just cuddle your pain away-” Doyoung stood up, about to make his way towards the switch panels to turn the lights out. You caught his wrist midway. “No, wait. I’m interested."

After screaming at your boyfriend for running over to your house instead of driving, you let him drive you over to the nearest McDonald’s with your car even after he proposed a walk being good for reducing cramp pain. You were too lazy for heaven’s sake.

"Can i place an order for 2 large fries? And a Mcflurry? Thank you” Doyoung spoke after pulling up at the drive through as you sat in the passenger’s seat, two layers of sweater and his hoodie pulled over onto your body to keep you warm.

Waiting patiently for your order, you lean forward, resting your head on the dashboard as your pain only got worse. Doyoung reached over to your back, caressing it in a comforting manner to help reduce pain as he turned the heater on inside the car, determined to keep you as warm as possible.

You practically snatch the food away from his hands as soon as he received the order, earning a chuckle for him as he drives out out of the drive through, driving in the opposite direction of your house, probably to his and you don’t object, definitely liking the idea of munching on fries and slurping away the drink alongside his cuddles.

“You okay with staying over for the night?” he looks at you for a split second, confirming even though the answer was obvious, “I could drive you back home, it’s just, I’ve got work early in the morning tomorrow so i won’t be able to drop you then, and i know you’ll wake up in the middle of the night without warmth so-"

"I’m fine with it! I like your pillows better than mine anyways” you reply with a mouth full of fries.

Doyoung parks a little away from his apartment, seeing the parking lot overcrowded, earning a whine from you at the thought of having to physically move.

“Babe, i can’t moveee” you drag, as he parks just 2 minutes walk away from the apartment compound. A packet of empty fries placed on the drinks holder when he turns to look at you, “It’ll take not anymore than a minute” he tries convincing you. “It’s not that i don’t want to, i can’t” you emphasize the word ‘can’t’ to get your point across.

He taps at the steering wheel, while looking at you, thinking for a better alternative for walking. “Give me a piggyback ride!” you beat him to it. He nods his head in agreement, knowing you’d even go as far to just sleep in the car if he didn’t carry you up to his house. So without putting up a protest, he got out of the driver’s seat and made his way towards you, kneeling down once he opened the door to your side.

You trust fall forward, earning a sound of pain from your poor boyfriend as you chuckle out an apology. You press a kiss onto his cheeks before resting your head on his shoulder, feeling another wave of pain hit you, making you whimper.

Doyoung stood up, securing you in place as he took out the remaining order and the trash, making sure to lock the car before waking towards the apartment, inside the building and towards the elevator.

“Doyoung.. It hurts” you whine out, wanting nothing more than a soft surface to lie down on as Doyoung hushed you with comforting words, speed walking towards his door once the lift opened.

Feeling lethargic, you barely manage to make out the faint image of his well organised living room, the black and white undertone of the walls all too similar but you were too drawn out by the pain to make a clear picture out of it.

You feel yourself being lowered down onto his couch as your boyfriend made his way towards the kitchen to place the fries and drink down on the counter.

With heavy eyelids, you stare straight at the table beside the T. V, blinking multiple times to see what was moving back and forth in what looked like a cage to you. When it’d clearly be a mini aquarium to any sane soul.

“Babe, your dragon looks dope!” you scream out, turning towards the side to get into a comfortable position as you feel your legs being tugged out of your boots. Doyoung lets out a small laugh, looking at you with amusement.

“Pain’s that bad?” he questioned as you look up at him, eyebrows furrowed, “Hmm?”

“That’s my goldfish, Y/n”

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wayward-dreamer · 4 years

Text

Life’s Lessons - Part 4

Title: Life’s Lessons - A Lesson in Self Control

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x Female!Teacher!Reader (eventual)

Other Pairings: Dean x Lisa, Female!Reader x OMC – Ethan (past, mentioned)

Word Count: 6,612 (thoughts, song lyrics in italics)

Part Summary: After Charlie witnesses the looks between Dean and Y/N outside the school on Friday, she convinces Y/N they should go out for drinks. At the bar, Charlie and Y/N bond, as she opens up to Charlie about Dean but also her past. After several drinks, Y/N goes home drunk and gets a little help from a friend. The next day brings a little embarrassment, but also brings up feelings within Dean and Y/N, that they know they shouldn’t be feeling.

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol Consumption, Mentions of cheating, Mentions of reader’s ex, Talk of Emotional Abuse, Mentions of a physical incident against reader, Drunk reader, Embarrassment, Dean being sweet (yes, that’s a warning), flirting, forbidden feelings

Music: Deeper in the Water by The Lone Bellow (playing in the background while Y/N is baking scene), Wherever I May Roam by Metallica (Dean and Y/N backyard scene).

Life’s Lessons Spotify Playlist

A/N: Thank you to everyone for your wonderful comments on this series so far! I’m so glad you’re all enjoying it! This part is a little heavier, so please read the warnings. Please share your thoughts with me, I love hearing what you all think! Happy reading and enjoy! :)

Dividers by the wonderful @firefly-graphics! Check her out for all your AU needs!!!

Life’s Lessons Masterlist

Y/N took off her red glasses, smiling as she looked at her students. She could see them all flicking their eyes up at the clock every now and then, wondering when the bell would ring. She found it amusing as she tried not to laugh. It was Friday and they couldn’t wait to get out of there and start their weekend fun. She couldn’t wait herself, hoping to have some time for herself, call her family and maybe go see a movie.

Unfortunately for her students, they still had some time before they could leave, using that time to take the notes for the criteria set for their book reports. She watched as they all scribbled in their notebooks hurriedly, wanting to get out as soon as the bell went off.

“Make sure it’s personal to you” she told them as they wrote. “Books have a way of really affecting us, so I want you guys to choose something that really had a big effect on you.”

Some of them mumbled an “okay” while others nodded.

Suddenly, the bell rang, and they all sprung up at the same time. It was like how smaller children got excited for ice-cream.

“Alright, don’t all head out at the same time! You’ll plow each other out of the way!” she laughed.

“Sorry, Miss Y/L/N” one student called out.

“Have a great weekend, guys!” she called out in return.

Y/N walked out of the room as well, following them down the hallway and out of the school building. She smiled as students were being picked up by their parents, getting on the bus home or their bikes and riding home. She spotted a parent of one of her students notice her, walking over to her.

“Miss Y/L/N?” the woman asked.

“Yes” Y/N smiled, offering her hand.

“Oh, it’s wonderful to meet you, I’m Carol. Amy’s mom” she said, shaking Y/N’s hand.

“Wonderful to meet you, too” Y/N agreed.

“I just wanted to come and introduce myself and welcome you” Carol said, a bright, peaceful smile on her face. “I know it’s already been a couple of weeks, but I hope you’re loving Lawrence.”

Y/N nodded. “I’m definitely warming up to life here.”

“Well, Amy’s really fond of you. English is already her favorite subject but she’s so happy to have someone like you teaching it” Carol complemented her.

Y/N beamed, her heart soaring. It was always great to hear when kids enjoyed a subject and the way you taught it.

“She’s a great student, so that definitely makes it easy” Y/N told her.

Carol blushed, delighted by the complement for her daughter. “Well, we better go. I’m sure we’ll see you around.”

“Of course,” Y/N said. “It was great to meet you.”

As Carol walked away after saying goodbye, Y/N looked around as the crowds of children started to clear. She spotted Charlie and was about to walk over, when she noticed who she was talking to. Dean was leaning against his car, aviators on and laughing at something Charlie just said. Ben was sitting in the car, waiting for Dean. She didn’t realize that Charlie knew Dean too, but she really should’ve made the connection considering she knew Cas, and Cas knew Dean. She thought about going over there, but she didn’t want to interrupt them. Plus, after what happened the other night at dinner with him and Lisa, she wasn’t sure if she should go over there.

“Y/N!” she heard her redheaded friend call out and she knew she had to go over.

She smiled as she walked over, trying to prepare herself to be near Dean again. He looked so damn good in that moment, and she was finding it hard to look at him.

“Thanks to your car, I know you already know each other, so I don’t have to introduce you” Charlie laughed, as she nudged Y/N with her hand.

“Yeah.” Dean took his sunglasses off and Y/N saw that he was looking directly at her. She was suddenly nervous again.

Dean took her in, dressed in a black dress that hugged her body in just the right way. Her red glasses were tucked into the neckline of her dress, and he had a sudden urge to see her wearing them. Mind outta the gutter, man he thought to himself as he looked away from her.

“I didn’t realize you guys were friends” she said, as she stood in front of Charlie and Dean.

Charlie smiled as she looked at Dean. “Yeah, have been for years.”

“Charlie’s like the little sister I never wanted” Dean teased, smiling cheekily at her. Charlie punched him in the arm, and he laughed.

His gaze moved from her back to Y/N. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his head since the first time he met her, but even more so after what happened at her house.

Charlie noticed how Dean and Y/N were looking at each other and dropped her head, smiling without them seeing.

“I better go” he said, suddenly, putting his sunglasses back on. “Lisa finished work early and we’re going to Sid and Olivia’s for dinner.”

“Tell them I said hi” Y/N told him, trying not frown as she wished he had stayed longer.

“Sure thing” he nodded. He moved in to hug Charlie, kissing her head.

Y/N watched as Dean got into the car and drove off, the car roaring down the road. She turned to Charlie and her face dropped into a frown, when she saw her friend grinning at her.

“What?”

“You like him” Charlie stated.

Y/N stared at her in shock, before scoffing a laugh. “You’re insane.”

“On the contrary, I’m completely sane” Charlie countered. “And you denied it a little too quickly, so it has to be true.”

“Charlie…” Y/N trailed off, not knowing how to respond to that.

“I think we need to get a drink together” Charlie suggested. “We haven’t gotten a chance to hang out outside of work yet.”

Y/N grinned. “Sounds great.”

“Tonight?” Charlie asked.

“Name a time and place, and I’m there” Y/N responded quickly. She was excited to go out and see what Lawrence was like on a Friday night. She knew it wouldn’t be much for a small town, but she also knew she needed to know how the nightlife was here.

“Ditch the rental at home and I’ll pick you up” Charlie said, as she started to walk away. “I’ll be there at 7!”

“See you soon!” Y/N called out as they both made their way back in to collect their belongings, before they headed home.

When she got home, Y/N relaxed for a while before she needed to get ready. She freshened up and got dressed into black ripped skinny jeans and a dark mustard sweater. She put on her black heeled ankle boots, ran a straightener through her hair quickly to get the kinks of the school day out and applied light make-up. She picked up her black leather jacket and her bag, just in time when she heard two quick honks of a car horn. She picked up her keys and walked out, closing the door behind her. She walked down the porch steps and smiled at Charlie as she walked over, getting into the car.

Y/N and Charlie made their way to the town square, lined with shops and some restaurants. Deciding they were hungry too; they grabbed a quick bite to eat. Conversation over at the diner mainly consisted of work and minor things, because Y/N had a feeling Charlie wanted to talk about personal things over drinks. After they ate, they walked down the street and past a couple of dive bars, the loud music and chatter filtering out to the streets. She felt better knowing there was something going on in this town and that it wasn’t as sleepy as a place like Rhinebeck. Though Rhinebeck did have its own charms.

Y/N followed Charlie, arriving at the place where they sat at the bar. She and Charlie sat on the bar stools, the bartender immediately coming over to them.

“What can I get you, ladies?” he asked, smiling at them.

“Gin and tonic, please” Charlie replied, smiling back.

Y/N thought it over for a second before she replied. “A vodka martini.”

“Sure thing” he muttered before moving down the bar to mix the drinks.

Y/N and Charlie both took their jackets off, settling in. The bartender put their respective drinks in front of them and then went to serve other customers. Charlie picked up her glass and turned to Y/N.

“To surviving your first two weeks” she said, smiling.

“Well, thanks for making it easy for me to settle in” Y/N smiled back, clinking her glass against hers. “I really mean it. You and Cas have really helped me and supported me, so… thank you.”

“No need to thank” Charlie waved her off, taking a sip of her drink. “So… let’s get to the real reason we’re here…”

“Oh god” Y/N groaned.

“Oh yeah” Charlie smirked. “You like Dean.”

Y/N laughed a little to herself. She didn’t beat around the bush, this one.

“Yeah. I do” Y/N admitted, feeling slightly relieved to say it out loud. “At first, I really just thought it was a crush, something that would just go away after a couple of days. Then… then the butterflies stuck around and they’re not going away. Every time I see him… I just want to be near him. All the time. I know two weeks is way too soon to be feeling like this about someone I just met, but-” she explained but Charlie shook her head, cutting in.

“I don’t think the length of time matters to Oxytocin” Charlie advised her.

“I’m not quite at the love stage yet. In fact, I hope I never get there because that’s going to get me into trouble” Y/N countered.

“Which is unfortunate because I think you two would be adorable together” Charlie confessed, a guilty grin on her face.

“What?” Y/N scoffed, not quite believing what she just heard.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… the way he was looking at you, even just for a few seconds, I haven’t seen him like that in a really long time” Charlie said, a sad smile on her face.

“Oh god” Y/N groaned, her face dropping into her hands. “Charlie, what are you doing to me?!”

“I know, I know” Charlie shook her head, not knowing what else to say.

“I can’t” Y/N shook her head, taking a large sip of her martini.

“I know, and I wasn’t telling you to go for it at all. I’m sorry” Charlie apologized, sipping her drink.

“It’s okay” Y/N reassured her, patting her back. Once they had both calmed down, Y/N turned to her friend. “Oh, they came over for dinner on Monday. I wanted to thank Dean about the car, and he came over with Lisa.”

“Really?” Charlie asked, a little shocked. “She actually came over?”

Y/N nodded. “Seemed like she didn’t want to be there, though. I mean, she was okay, she didn’t say much, which I don’t really care about, but she was kind of cold with Dean.”

Y/N looked at Charlie and saw that she looked like she wanted to say something but was contemplating whether she should or not.

“Okay, look…” Charlie started, trying to find her next words carefully. “I’m just going to tell you this, and it’s in no way saying that you have to do something, I just think you need to know, now that you’ve brought this up.”

“Okay…” Y/N didn’t know where she was going with this, but she listened anyway.

“Dean and Lisa have never been good for each other. They had a one-night thing, it was great for both of them, but that’s where it should’ve ended. Things were fine at the start, but once they got past the one-year mark, is when things started turning. Two years in, it got pretty bad. I mean, Dean doesn’t know for sure… but he thinks that she might’ve slept with someone else when she went home to visit her family. Things haven’t been right for a while now. Between not trusting her and them fighting at the drop of a hat all the time… it should’ve ended a year ago” Charlie explained.

“Wow” Y/N sighed, shaking her head.

“The only time we see him happy is when he’s at work or when he’s with us and she’s not around. Hell, I don’t particularly think she likes any of us, and we’ve tried really hard to include her. She never really wanted to do anything with us and would only come out with Dean if she wanted to prove things were okay. After a while, we just stopped trying to get her to like us” Charlie went on.

Y/N couldn’t imagine anyone not liking Charlie or Cas. “Seriously?”

Charlie nodded, a glint of anger behind her eyes. “She’s never encouraged him with the business, she’s always put him down for his choice in friends. She claims it’s to make him see that he’s better than them, but she’s just forcing him to think things he never would.”

There was a long silence between them, as Y/N processed everything Charlie just told her. She and Charlie were only just starting to become friends, so she could’ve easily said she didn’t believe her. She did, though. Charlie looked genuinely hurt, which meant everything was true.

“Fuck” Y/N whispered.

“Yeah” Charlie said, raising her eyebrows. “Dean’s generally a happy, care-free guy but for over a year now, I know he’s been hurting. He just hides it behind his larger than life personality. I just want to see him as his old self again. He thinks that if he stays, maybe things will just fix themselves, but they won’t. They haven’t yet and they certainly won’t the longer he stays in this relationship.”

“Wow” Y/N sighed again.

“So, that’s all I want to say” Charlie finished. “I’m not saying you have to do anything about it, but I want you know the reality, and maybe not hate yourself so much for having the thoughts you’ve been having.”

Y/N nodded. Hearing it made her feel slightly better, but worse now that she knew what he was going through.

Another silence fell between them as Y/N thought about everything Charlie said.

“It scares me” Y/N looked down into her glass, shaking her head. “Feeling something so quickly for someone I just met. I’ve never felt a connection like this before. Not even with Ethan.”

“Ethan?” Charlie asked, confusion written on her face.

Y/N bit her lip. She didn’t realize she had never mentioned him to Charlie. “My ex.”

Charlie nodded slowly, immediately understanding. “I’m guessing things didn’t end well if you’re so far away from New York.”

“No, they did not” Y/N muttered after a sip of her drink. “He uh… he was really controlling of me. He’d tell me how I shouldn’t dress up and be too revealing, but then somehow… somehow, he’d tell me that I didn’t try hard enough either, that I wasn’t attractive enough. My job wasn’t good enough. I… I wasn’t good enough. I didn’t… I didn’t think it was something that was a problem, no matter how much anyone told me it was. I thought he’d… he’d say the things he did because he just wanted me to be better, but it was to stroke his own ego.”

“Scumbag” Charlie muttered; her face morphed into anger.

“Yeah” Y/N laughed, bitterly. “I couldn’t see it until the night he hurt me. I thought he was doing those things because he loved me, but love isn’t making a person hate themselves to make yourself feel better.”

“You said he hurt you…” Charlie trailed off, worried that she’d uncover feelings that Y/N had buried.

“Just once, he pushed me and I ended up in hospital with a concussion” Y/N said, her words choking around the lump in her throat. “Once I was better, my parents helped me get my things out of his apartment. It wasn’t an easy transition; I kept seeing him everywhere. I tried to get a restraining order against him, but his family had money and probably paid someone off, so he never got charged with one. He eventually left with his new girlfriend, but that didn’t mean it got better for me. It took some time, a year of therapy before I left, but I realized that I wasn’t going to let anyone do that to me ever again. That place… I didn’t want to leave my family but there was too much of him there. So… now I’m here.”

“I’m glad you are. Y/N, you’re… shit, you’re fucking amazing and I hate that someone made you feel like you’re not” Charlie said, quietly, her eyes watery.

“I really know how to tell a story, huh?” Y/N jested, trying to lighten the mood again, as she blinked to keep her tears from falling.

“I’m glad you told me, that you could trust me with that” Charlie said, a small, empathetic smile playing at her lips.

“I’m sorry” Y/N shook her head, feeling awful at her sudden confession of her past. “I shouldn’t have brought it up when we’re here to have a good time.”

Charlie took her hand in hers. “No, please don’t apologize. I really am glad that you did. I’m so glad I know you.”

Y/N smiled at her. She knew Charlie would hear the story and wouldn’t pity her but be there for her and listen. She held Charlie’s hand, squeezing it. She was glad to have met the woman sitting in front of her.

“You know… Dean would never do that to you, right? To anyone” Charlie told her.

Y/N nodded, closing her eyes. “I know. I don’t know how I know, but I just see him, and I know that he’d never do that.”

“And that’s what scares you, right? That he’d never do that, that you feel so much and that he’s with someone else?” Charlie asked.

Y/N looked at her and didn’t say anything. Her face said it all. Charlie just nodded, before taking the last sip of her drink.

“I need another drink” Y/N said with a small chuckle, having finished her martini.

Charlie just smiled as she flagged down the bartender.

Another drink turned into two more after that. Y/N understood what Charlie said clearly, but that didn’t mean she was going to take the words and run with them. Why risk everything on what could just be a crush? She was wrong, 2 weeks was absolutely a ridiculous amount of time to suddenly fall for someone. She was overthinking things.

She was thankful when Charlie dropped the subject of Dean, having said what she needed to about how she felt towards Lisa, knowing Y/N would interpret everything the way she needed to. She also felt a huge pressure lift off her chest when she told Charlie about what happened with Ethan. It had been a year since the break-up and since she had started therapy. Her last session before she left had left her feeling relieved. Coming to Lawrence had been the best decision, even with her situation with Dean. Charlie was amazing and was glad she spoke up and told someone who she really trusted.

They eventually moved onto talking Charlie and Dorothy and Y/N found the redhead incredibly cute in that moment, as she gushed about her girlfriend.

Y/N knew that once the fourth martini went down, she had to get home. She was well and truly drunk and all she wanted to do was sleep it off. Just forget them ever talking about Dean.

As they left the bar, she stumbled slightly as they walked down the road. She needed to get an Uber and be alone in her thoughts now, her mind reeling with their conversation but vodka, too.

“Are you sure I can’t take you home?” Charlie asked, concern all over her face.

Y/N chuckled as she shook her head. “I’m sure, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay” Charlie agreed, reluctantly. “Message me as soon as you get home.”

An Uber quickly pulled up a few moments after she called it, and Y/N got in. She smiled and waved at Charlie. “Thanks for tonight.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you Monday” Charlie smiled.

Y/N leaned back against the seat, looking out the window. She really didn’t need man drama while she settled into a new town. She had had enough of it back home in her previous relationship, that one almost ruining her mental state. She was still recovering, even if had been a year since they broke up. Memories of him and imagining him around town, even after he left, were what made her decide to leave too. The last thing she needed was to be with someone. That being said, someone could argue with her that it was time to move on and find something better, something more meaningful.

Well, that something would have to come from somewhere else because it sure as hell wasn’t going to come from Dean. As much as she was attracted to him, he was with someone. No matter how unhappy the relationship was. Her mind floated to something Charlie told her. That it was possible that Lisa cheated on Dean.

He was sweet and caring, nurturing and compassionate. Gorgeous as hell and insanely hilarious. Who could ever cheat on him? People had their flaws, but that didn’t mean you give up on a person. His flaws couldn’t be as bad as her ex’s.

The Uber pulled up outside her house. Y/N steadied herself as much as she could as she got out. The car pulling up caught the attention of Dean, however, as he was sitting on the front porch, beer in hand. He watched as Y/N stumbled up the stairs of her porch and tried to open the door to her house.

Dean put his beer down on the stoop and got up from the stairs, walking across the street. As he walked up her porch stairs, Y/N turned around and smiled at him, indicating to Dean that she was quite drunk.

“Dean” she slurred happily, her eyes sparkling.

He tried not to laugh as he walked over to her. “Doing okay there, sweetheart?”

“Sure am” she giggled in her drunken state. “Just trying to get my door open.”

Dean watched as she tried to put the key in but kept missing the keyhole. He stepped forward and took the key from her hand, putting it into the lock and opening the door with ease.

“Thanks” she beamed.

As she went to walk through the threshold, her foot caught the edge and she stumbled. With quick reflexes, Dean caught her arm and pulled her into his body.

“Whoa, Y/N” he exclaimed, cradling her to his body.

She let out a loud cackling laugh, completely unaware of her near injury. Knowing that this wasn’t going to end well if she kept at it by herself, Dean bent down and lifted her legs up as he cradled her body. He lifted her into his arms as he carried her into the house, trying not to dwell on how good she felt in his arms.

“Ooh” she gasped, as her arms wrapped around his neck. “You’re very strong, Dean.”

She couldn’t help but lean her head on his shoulder, the intoxicating scent of cologne driving her crazy.

He ignored that as he walked down the hallway and into her bedroom.

Dean gulped as he looked around, the realization that he shouldn’t be standing in her bedroom hitting him suddenly. He quickly walked to the bed and laid her down, watching her eyes flutter as the alcohol she had consumed took control.

“Have to… have to text Charlie” she mumbled, the alcohol making her sleepy.

Ah, so that’s who she went out with he thought as he took off her shoes and pulled the covers over her.

He picked up her bag and fished around quickly, finding her phone. He didn’t look in, knowing that a woman’s handbag had things in there he had no business seeing.

Y/N unlocked her phone and handed it to him, flinging her head back to her pillow.

Dean bit back a laugh as he messaged Charlie as Y/N.

Hey, made it home safe. Thanks for tonight.

He added that in because if she was this drunk, then clearly she had a great time with his friend. Who wouldn’t?

Dean placed her phone on the nightstand and was about to walk away when he heard her stir.

“You’re really sweet, Dean” she mumbled, only one eye looking up at him as her face was smooshed to her pillow. “Why can’t all guys be like you?”

Dean shook his head. She was really out of it. “I wouldn’t say that, Y/N. I’m not someone to be compared to.”

“I think you are” she said, a soft smile on her face. “I think you’re something special, Dean Winchester.”

A smile spread on his face, but it dropped quickly. She wouldn’t remember saying it in the morning, so it was best not to dwell on it.

“Goodnight, Y/N” he whispered.

“I could get used to you in my life” she whispered, as she drifted off into slumber.

Dean felt a pang in his heart at her words. She may have been drunk, but it had been a while since someone had something like that to him. He couldn’t let her words affect him like that, though. He was with someone else and he needed to make that work again.

Dean slowly walked out of her room and back down the hall. He took out his wallet and took out the Advil tablets he kept in there, leaving them by her coffee machine. He picked up a napkin and quickly scribbled a note on it, before leaving her house. Hopefully she wouldn’t remember all of that in the morning and they could avoid the awkwardness that would follow.

The sunlight from the windows streamed into Y/N’s room. It warmed the covers she was wrapped in, causing her to stir. She groaned as she lifted her head, feeling the heaviness of last night’s drinking session with Charlie. She sat in bed as she tried to recall what happened last night. Her eyes widened as she remembered, everything quickly rushing to her head.

Dean had helped her into the house. Dean had most likely helped her into bed. Dean had been in her bedroom.

She couldn’t remember if any words had been exchanged. Had she said anything that would cause her embarrassment?

Y/N slowly got out of bed and picked up her robe, wrapping it around herself. She picked up her phone and walked out of her bedroom, into the kitchen, as she needed coffee as soon as humanly possible. She looked at the time. It was 10 in the morning. She had really been knocked out last night. She walked over to her coffee machine and was about to start filling it, when she noticed something out of the corner of her eye.

A slip of Advil tablets and a note laid next to the machine. She smiled as she picked up the note, scribbled in all-caps.

HOPE YOUR HEAD DOESN’T HATE YOU TOO MUCH IN THE MORNING.

-D

Her stomach flipped as she bit her lip, reading over the note again. She liked his handwriting. It said so much about him.

She quickly took the Advil before she made her coffee and breakfast, two eggs and a little bacon. You had to have bacon on a Saturday morning, especially if you were hungover. That’s what she felt.

The rest of her afternoon consisted of paying bills and doing some work for her classes, once her head was feeling slightly better. She made a mental note to actually go see a movie next week with Charlie. Maybe they could invite Cas’s girlfriend along, as she was dying to meet Meg. After doing her work for the day, she decided to do a little baking. Saturday afternoon baking was something she did often back home, and she wanted to keep that going here in her new house.

Y/N decided on making an apple pie, one of her favorites. As she got all the ingredients together, she decided to make two, wanting to take one over to Dean as a thank you for helping her last night. Hopefully he liked pie. She turned on one of her softer playlists, as cooking or baking needed some kind of music in the background and something soft was good for her head right now.

An hour later as The Lone Bellow graced her ears, she took out two beautifully golden pies from the oven. She put them on the kitchen bench and went to shower, having still been in the same clothes from last night.

Once she was freshened up, she walked out in dark blue skinny jeans, a white tank top and a pink and white plaid shirt over the top. She took a red and white checked cloth and wrapped it around one of the pies, making sure it stayed warm as she walked over. Slipping her phone into her back pocket, she shrugged on a light jacket to shield her from the light breeze. It was starting to get colder and she wondered what winter would be like here.

Y/N left her house and walked over to Dean and Lisa’s, pie in hand. She was a little nervous and hoped that Lisa wouldn’t be there, so that she could talk to Dean alone. She was slightly ashamed of herself; he was technically a parent of a child she was teaching, and he saw her drunk. She really hated herself for it and hoped that they could talk and come to an understanding.

She quickly walked up the porch steps and rang their doorbell. She waited patiently for a few seconds, before she rang the bell again. Again, she didn’t hear anyone coming for the door. Even the Impala wasn’t in the driveway. They had probably gone out as a family. As she walked back down the porch steps, she heard some music and clinking sounds coming from the back of the house. Wondering if maybe Dean was at home, she walked around the corner to their backyard, the sounds of Metallica’s Wherever I May Roam becoming louder as she got closer. The sight that greeted her caused her eyes to widen and her heart to beat wildly in her chest.

Dean was leaning over the engine of his car with the hood open. He was wearing blue jeans that hung on his hips in the most perfect way, highlighting his cute butt. His dark grey t-shirt defined his physique, the material stretching across his chest and biceps. His arms and face were covered in grease from the car, but that only added to the hotness he was showing at that point. When he turned around and noticed her, he smirked which just killed her dead on the spot.

“Hey, I didn’t hear ya coming out here” he said, walking over to her, turning the music down a little as he walked past his little radio.

She blinked a few times, trying to get out of the trance he put her in. “I rang the bell a few times but then I heard you out here.”

He nodded as he jerked his head towards the car. “Yeah, I gotta work on her from time to time, make sure she’s still runnin’ properly.”

“Well, she’s gorgeous. I wouldn’t want her to fade away either, if I was you” she smiled.

He smirked as he looked at his priced possession. “Dad would tear me a new one if I ever did.”

She laughed a little before a silence fell between them, only the sounds of the song being heard.

And the road becomes my bride And the road becomes my bride I have stripped of all but pride So in her I do confide And she keeps me satisfied Gives me all I need And with dust in throat I crave Only knowledge will I save To the game you stay a slave

Now was as good a time as to bring up what she needed to.

“Dean, I just wanted to say thank you for helping me last night” she started but he waved her off.

“Don’t mention it, sweetheart” he smiled.

He really had to stop calling her that if she was ever going to get anywhere with this. If only he knew what that did to her.

“I know it might’ve felt like just a nice gesture, and it was, but… Dean, I’m really ashamed and I really, really hope you don’t see me differently now” she confessed.

Dean frowned, not sure what she meant. “Why would I do that?”

“It’s just that… I’m a teacher, and I’m supposed to be a certain way. You’re practically a parent to a child in my class, and you shouldn’t be seeing me like that, like how I was last night-” she rambled but the feel of his hands on her shoulders stopped her.

“Y/N, it’s really okay. I’d never tell anyone about that. I mean, shit. You gotta let loose once and a while, too. Maybe someone else would judge you for that, but I never would” he told her, his voice calming her.

“But-” Dean shook his head when she protested.

“Honestly, Y/N. It’s fine. That’s just between you and me. Okay?” he reassured her.

She sighed in relief. “Okay.”

“Good” he winked at her.

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she looked down, trying not to think about that wink.

“It’s just… I didn’t say anything stupid to you, did I? If I did, I’m so sorry” she apologized.

Dean remembered everything she said last night. It had kept him up for an hour and a half as her words circled around in his thoughts.

“Nope” he lied. “Though you did mutter something about finding Christopher Walken sexy.”

Y/N eyes widened. “What?!”

Dean guffawed loudly, shaking his head. “Oh my god, you should see your face.”

She reached up and smacked his arm, causing a small “ah” to leave his lips but he kept on laughing, as he rubbed his arm.

“You’re such an ass” she shook her head, trying not to smile at the sound of his laugh.

His laughter died down as he composed himself. “That was too easy.”

“I don’t think you deserve this pie now” she gestured to the wrapped-up dish in her hands.

His eyes lit up as he looked between her and what was in her hand. “Pie? You-you made me a pie?”

“Yeah, I did, as a thank you for last night but I don’t think I want to give it to you now” she pretended to be upset, riling him up.

“Y/N…” he said, looking her right in the eyes. “Please.”

Jesus. She was putty in his hands. This wasn’t good. She couldn’t do this with him. In that moment, all she could do was hand over the pie with a polite smile. She couldn’t let him think that she was wanted to keep going on this banter of theirs. That was dangerous and she wouldn’t be that person.

She quickly handed it over. “Since you asked so nice.”

His eyes and smile grew brighter, as he giddily lifted one corner of the cloth and smelt the cinnamon and apple.

His eyes rolled back as he moaned lightly. “Damn, that smells amazing. Thanks, Y/N. Seriously.”

“You’re welcome” she said, laughing slightly at his reaction. “I take it you like pie.”

“Like?” he scoffed. “More like obsessed.”

“Good to know” she giggled as she watched him take another whiff. “I better go.”

“Oh, before I forget. Your car should be ready on Wednesday” he told her.

She smiled with a sigh of relief. “Amazing, thank you.”

“So, I’ll see you at the shop on Wednesday” he said, his thumbs rubbing over the cloth around the pie. He was itching to dig into it.

“Yeah” she nodded. “Bye, Dean.”

“Bye. Thanks again” he lifted the pie as he thanked her.

Y/N smiled as she walked away, rounding the corner and disappearing.

As soon as she was gone, Dean walked into the house and put the pie on the kitchen counter. He washed his hands and wiped them down, his mouth salivating as the delicious scent of the pie wafted through the kitchen. He opened a drawer and took out a fork, unfolding the cloth from around the pie dish. He licked his lips he looked down at it, stabbing his fork in and digging up a big bite. He blew on it and shoved it into his mouth. The flavors exploded as he closed his eyes in delight.

“Fuck, that’s good” he mumbled to himself as he swallowed down the mouthful.

It had to be the best pie he had ever had, not including his mother’s because that wasn’t a fair fight. Did Y/N really have to be so perfect that she made an amazing pie, too? How the hell was he supposed to stay away from her if she did things like this?

You just have to he thought as he wrapped the pie up again, for later. You can’t keep doing what you’re doing with her.

If this was ever going to remain friendly, then he had to stop turning on the charm, even if that was second nature to him. She made everything so easy. Things hadn’t been easy for him in a long time.

Between what she said in her drunken state to him (she may have been drunk, but she still said it. So, it had to be true, right?) and now bringing him this pie, it was getting harder to resist her. He knew was starting to feel something for her, even if it had only been a couple of weeks. He hadn’t felt like this since the first time he was with Lisa. Once they actually got together, the spark fizzled out quite quickly as comfortability took over. Now, even that wasn’t there.

Maybe it’s only meant to be comfortable. Maybe the spark isn’t meant to stay as you get comfortable with your partner. Though, that didn’t seem right to him. If you were really in love, then wouldn’t the spark stick around?

He had never been more confused about what to do, but he knew what the right thing was. It was to stick it out with Lisa, and that’s what he needed to do.

No matter how much he thought about Y/N.

As Y/N walked towards her house, her smiled dropped. What happened back there wasn’t just a friendly neighborhood chat. That was more. Much more. That was something two people did when they’re getting to know each other as more than friends. That was banter and flirting and messing around with each other with silly jokes. There were looks that made her tingle all over, and polite words that comforted her.

He made everything so easy. What she was beginning to feel for him was so much more than what she had felt before. This feeling wasn’t even there the first time she met Ethan. She knew she was fooling herself when she said this was just a little crush.

As she entered her house, Y/N was determined.

Dean Winchester was not going to have an effect on her.

He just wasn’t.

-x-

Tags: @flamencodiva @deanwanddamons @winchest09 @katehuntington @akshi8278 @hobby27 @michellethetvaddict @spngirl05 @kyjey @halesandy @440mxs-wife @stoneyggirl @deanswaywardgirl @wonder-cole @that-one-gay-girl @redbarn1995 @marianita195 @babypink224221 @deans-baby-momma @parinarain @thoughts-and-funnies @mandalou29 @castiels-a-winchester @perpetualabsurdity

#Life's Lessons #Dean x Female!Reader #Dean x Female!Reader Series #Dean x Female!Reader Fanfiction #Female!Reader Insert #Mechanic!Dean #Teacher!Reader #Dean x Reader Fanfiction #Dean Winchester Series #Dean Winchester Fanfiction #Dean Winchester Fanfic #Supernatural Fanfiction

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zodiyack · 4 years

Text

Kiwi

Requested by @simonsbluee: hi! can i request a Tommy Shelby story that’s based off the song Kiwi by Harry Styles? all good if you can’t :)

Pairing: Thomas ‘Tommy’ Shelby x Female!Reader

Warnings: Lyrics, angst, swearing, indications to smut

Song: Kiwi by Harry Styles

Words: 1,216

Summary: (See Request?)

Note: I had no idea what on earth to do for this so my apologies and also, fun-fact, I thought I remembered what kiwi was until I listened to it when I started writing and then had to pause and check what song it was- 😅

Edit: After having a friend proof-read it for me and getting their “go-ahead” to post this, I’ve decided to listen to them rather than sit and cringe at myself so uh... Here ya goooo

Key: Bold + Italic = Lyrics | Italic = Memories and sometimes emphasis

Taglist: @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @stydia-4-ever, @peakyxtommy, @cai-neki, @simonsbluee, @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @peakysputain, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it, @marquelapage, @jenepleurepasbaby, @thewarriorprincessxo, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist | Cillian Murphy Masterlist

She worked her way through a cheap pack of cigarettes, Hard liquor mixed with a bit of intellect. And all the boys, they were saying they were into it. Such a pretty face, on a pretty neck

Anyone could spot her in the Garrison, even if they had no clue who she was. Her outer demeanor was intimidating, with or without her husband. Y/n Shelby was one of the most feared yet yearned for woman in Small Heath, side by side on the list with her aunt-in-law, Polly Gray. No one dared act a fool when she was around. Then of course, that depended on their definition of the cringe-eliciting behavior.

Men constantly tried their luck with her. Easy to spot, she sat at a table in the middle of the bar with a cigarette in her hand and a glass in front of her as she conversed with her husband’s brothers. Every time a man came around, she shot them down without hesitation. This time no different.

“Are you without partner, miss?” A male on the younger side asked with a warm yet shy grin.

“Are you without brain, sir?” Her response was serious but held slight sarcasm. Everyone who knew of the blinders knew she was married to one of the many people they didn’t want to mess with. Insulting the poor man was far better than having his eyesight removed.

“N-no?”

“Hm, quite a surprise.” She looked down to her cigarette before flicking her eyes back up to the man. “Nevertheless, a man without brain nor eyes is the same as a man with brain and no eyes.”

The quiver in his voice almost made her feel bad for the quips she’d spat. But alas, it was only almost. “What...what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means yes, I do indeed have a partner.” The brothers around her chuckled and mocked the now cowering man, Y/n herself giving an amused smile and taking a drag of the stick between her fingers.

Tommy stood behind the man, looking at him with a blank expression once he’d turned around after backing into him. He lifted a brow, not once breaking eye contact. “She’s gorgeous, isn’t she.”

The man trembled, confused. “Y-yeah-” He stuttered as he shook with embarrassment.

“Her body, face, lips... Smart one too... She’s perfect. Too bad she’s spoken for.” Tommy muttered before walking over and sliding into the seat next to her. Y/n took the cigarette from her mouth and placed it between Tommy’s soft lips, lifting her eyes to his as she watched him endearingly.

Only one man could make the infamously feared woman smile in such an angelic manner. One man and one man only. His name, Thomas Michael Shelby.

She's driving me crazy, but I'm into it, but I'm into it, I'm kind of into it, It's getting crazy, I think I'm losing it, I think I'm losing it, Oh I think she said "I'm having your baby, it's none of your business"

"I'm having your baby, it's none of your business"

"I'm having your baby, it's none of your, it's none of your"

In hindsight, Tommy should’ve listened to his aunt’s words of wisdom. She’d told him love is crazy and makes you crazy, even Y/n mentioned it a multitude of times. Being together was only half the happy ending. Driving each other up the walls, it only drew them closer. Y/n, Tommy’s better half and Tommy, Y/n’s.

Love really did have an impact similar to the legend shrouding it’s definition. And they loved love for it.

But then the darker side of Tommy’s occupation found time to object every good thing his life had to offer. Although it didn’t tear a hole in the romance, it knocked it into a spiral that was supposed to register it as perfectly normal, sane, and very boring.

However, it hadn’t done anything large than strike a little worry into their hearts. What their enemy forgot was that nothing involving the Peaky Blinders was “normal” or “casual”, especially not boring.

It's New York, baby, always jacked up, Whole tunnels, foreign noses always backed up. When she's alone, she goes home to a cactus, In a black dress, she's such a such an actress

She's driving me crazy, but I'm into it, but I'm into it, I'm kind of into it, It's getting crazy, I think I'm losing it, I think I'm losing it. Oh I think she said "I'm having your baby, it's none of your business"

Tommy sent Y/n with his brothers and sister while he took care of things at home. He remembered holding her in his arms with a sincere apologetic but loving look in his blue orbs. The smell of her lingered on his collar. She refused to let go of him until John shouted that the train would be leaving without her had she stayed put.

“Wipe your eyes, my love. I’m not worth the tears-”

The sound of her palm coming into contact with his skin made Ada jump with a shriek from beside her other brothers. “Thomas Michael Shelby, don’t you dare fucking say that. That is...that is... It’s bullshit!” Tommy chuckled softly. Y/n couldn’t help but join in, “Stop laughing at me, you fucking- fucking bloody handsome asshole.”

“Alright alright... Promise me you won’t cry...at least, not anymore than you already have. For if you cry, it’ll break my heart and then I fear I won’t have the heart to see you off.”

“Tommy Shelby? Not having a heart? Are you sure me crying will be the cause in this scenario?” She jabbed with a giggle.

“Say what you’d like, Y/n, but my word remains true.” He pulled her closer and their lips collided. There, only for a moment, it felt like time had stopped just for them. “Go with them, stay safe and hidden, always carry your gun, and only have close friends deliver messages. They’re fucking listening on the telephones...”

It was the same things he’d said since they’d started planning this. Always with the essentials that probably really had no purpose to be labeled as essential, plus the minor setbacks that were more than likely never to happen.

Tommy was paranoid, but she couldn’t blame him. Thinking ahead and being prepared for the worst was better than not doing so and dealing with the consequences of unwanted surprise.

“I know. We’ve been over it a thousand times or more, Thomas. I’ll be fine,” she held his face in her hands as she took him in for the final time before her journey, “I promise.”

"I'm having your baby, it's none of your business"

"I'm having your baby, it's none of your, it's none of your"

She sits beside me like a silhouette, Hard candy dripping on me 'til my feet are wet, And now she's all over me, it's like I paid for it, It's like I paid for it, I'm gonna pay for this

Their lips crashed together and thus began their dance. Practically made for each other, everything of Y/n fit perfectly with everything of Tommy. Their lips, bodies, personalities, everything. A rough performance, full of passion and lust, was regularly preformed after long days, trips, or times that didn’t cause the couple to be apart for agonizingly long periods of time, sometimes death-run-ins were audience enough for their show to sell.

Tommy refused to wait for words or sighs of relief. He would let her know verbally in the morning, if he was done with her by then. Thomas felt at ease once she was back in his arms, like the piece of himself that had been missing for far too long was finally where it needed to be.

If Y/n was to deny her liking of Tommy’s pleasant surprise, she’d be a liar.

Rarely did Y/n become the one in charge, so when she was handed the reigns, she didn’t miss a beat before getting into character. She was always his “right-hand-man” and now she had the chance to show that she was much more than the simple role.

By the end of the night, both had their fun and chance to participate as the leader to their waltz. Heavy breaths and messy exteriors, the two had shown each other the burning passion they held for each other that never died out. Tom swore to himself never to send his wife away unless her life absolutely depended on it.

It's none of your, it's none of your

"I'm having your baby, it's none of your business"

The night she sleepily entered their home for the first time since they’d parted ways at the train station, he’d given her passion. He’d given her all of him. He’d given her his control. He’d given her all the love he had. He gave her his child.

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders reader insert #song fic #harry styles #kiwi #kiwi by harry styles #harry styles kiwi #x reader #reader insert #all readers #zodiyack

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ladylynse · 3 years

Text

Chapter 6 [FF | AO3] of Down the Rabbit Hole: Wirt had heard a lot of stories about college, but somehow, he still wasn’t prepared for one of his roommate’s crazy friends to smuggle a hatchet into their dorm room.

beginning | previous

-|-

Toby had hung up without giving more of an explanation, but from the look in Wendy’s eyes, Wirt knew she didn’t need one.

“You grab the kit from the kitchen,” Jazz said. “I’ll get the one from under my bed. Danny, there’s one in the top drawer under the bathroom sink.”

“On it,” he said, not questioning why they would possibly think they’d need three first aid kits between the two of them.

When they were all back with the kits and Wendy was pulling on her shoes, Wirt saw Danny glance at Jazz and Jazz’s answering nod. “Wirt and I can catch up,” she said without even looking at him for confirmation even though they were all gathered near the doorway now. “Wendy?”

Wendy paused long enough to look at Danny. “If it’s safe for me, then yes.”

“You’ll be fine,” Danny said, handing Wendy the other two first aid kits when she finished getting her shoes on. She cradled them against her chest as he picked her up with ease—how the heck was he so strong when he looked so slight?—and then they vanished.

Just like Danny had back in the library.

“H…how—?” Wirt could see Danny being able to do that with himself. Lab accident. Okay. Fine. But with Wendy?

They hadn’t even opened a window, let alone a door, but Wirt knew they were already gone.

“Lab accident,” Jazz said, as if that explained everything. “That was your next show of proof, by the way. Now come on. They’ll be there by the time we get out the door at this rate.”

“When…when you talked about Danny flying in earlier,” Wirt said as Jazz shooed him out the door and locked it behind them, “was that supposed to be literal?”

“I would’ve meant it literally even if I had meant on a plane,” she said, which Wirt supposed was answer enough. He just….

“What else can your brother do?”

Jazz was already heading down the stairs, but she glanced back without missing a step. “How much research did you do on Amity Park?”

“Um….”

“Just give me the cliffnotes version.”

“It’s a nice place to live?”

“I’m serious.”

“Ghosts attacks are common.”

Jazz made an irritated noise and started moving faster, forcing Wirt to take the stairs two at a time to keep up with her. “Read anything about our town’s protector?”

“The ghost hunters, you mean? Your family?”

There was a beat before Jazz answered, “I don’t just mean Mom and Dad.” He joined her on the landing, and she immediately turned and led the way out the door, setting off at a quick clip for the residence hall he and Toby had been assigned.

“The other one, then?” He had to practically jog to keep up with her. This was ridiculous. This was not a fast walk, whatever she made it appear to be. “The one with the jet sled?”

“I’m talking about Phantom.”

“So there really is a ghost that fights other ghosts?”

“Yes.”

“And that matters right now because—?”

“Danny Phantom.”

“What?”

“That’s his name. Danny Phantom.”

“So—?”

“My brother is not very original.”

“What does Danny have to—?” Wirt broke off as Jazz’s meaning sunk in.

This had to be a joke. She couldn’t seriously mean that.

Even if it would explain her brother’s cryptid remarks earlier. And the reason he could turn invisible and get into locked room and apparently fly.

But…but Danny was solid. Real. Wirt had touched him, seen him touch other very real, very solid objects. Jazz’s brother couldn’t be some spirit clinging to this world after a tragic lab accident, however dramatic he’d tried to make that seem. Ghosts weren’t tangible—

—except in Amity Park.

“Danny’s dead?” Wirt hissed.

“Not exactly.”

That made even less sense.

“So he’s a demon?”

There really wasn’t another option. Plus, it might be the real reason Jazz never came to any of Wendy’s apocalypse training sessions with them. Wendy wasn’t big on demons. Not that Wirt would have expected her to be, but—

“No.”

Okay, he was completely lost now. “Then what the heck is he?”

“Just think of him as a human with ghost powers. It’ll be a lot easier on your head.”

“How is that supposed to be easier?”

“Do you really want me to launch into a spiel about what I think Danny’s molecular structure looks like right now?”

“I—”

“Because it is all speculation. I haven’t exactly put him under a microscope. I don’t even need to ask him if he’s comfortable with the idea because I know he isn’t. Who would be? We have no reason to believe he’s in any danger; not more than anyone is who does what he does, anyway. He’s stable. He’s not broken. He’s different. That’s not a bad thing.”

“He’s dead.”

“Not dead. And not demonic. Just because that was your experience, doesn’t make it Danny’s. Or mine.”

He’d played along with this whole thing for too long to ask if Jazz really meant that Danny had been the first person to give Phantom a name, hadn’t he? Because somehow being the reason Phantom took the name Danny—whether Danny Fenton gave him that name or if Phantom fancied it and adopted it, in honour of Fenton or not—didn’t explain anything. That would just be wishful thinking, especially after what Jazz had said.

Besides, Wirt knew that things that couldn’t be explained could actually happen.

He had simply never expected that they had genuinely happened to anyone else.

Particularly while they were still in this dimension.

“I just can’t….”

“You wanted to help Toby, didn’t you? So stop saying you can’t. Just roll with it and do the best you can. Life gets weird sometimes. You should’ve learned that by now.”

“I was fifteen!”

“Danny was fourteen.”

There was no way he could argue this like a sane person and actually come out ahead, was there?

Wirt swallowed his retorts, deciding to save his breath as Jazz picked up the pace again. Geez, that girl could run. By the time they got to the residence hall, he could taste blood and was gasping for breath in between coughing fits that somehow made the stabbing, burning pain in his side worse, and she wasn’t even winded.

He was still fumbling for his keys when someone else walked out, giving him a weird look but holding the door long enough for Jazz to grab it. Wirt pretended that his face was flushed only from exertion and not the fact that he was pretty sure that kid lived just down the hall from him and that he’d have to live with the fact that this guy was always going to remember him as this out-of-shape weirdo who—

“Come on. You can catch your breath when we get to your room. Probably.”

Jazz didn’t bother knocking when they got there. The knob turned when she tried it, and she shoved him inside before following and locking the door behind her.

Wirt wasn’t sure what he expected to see when they got there.

Someone injured, sure. That made sense. Toby had asked for a first aid kit.

But somehow, Wirt had never expected that said injured, uh, creature would not be human.

A quick glance told him that Jazz wasn’t the least bit fazed by the giant thing sprawled across Toby’s bed. It looked like it was dressed in armour, too. Without a helmet but with horns. Wirt shuddered, too reminded of the Beast not to immediately think demon despite the vastly different horn type. He looked for Wendy, but she was just perched on his desk, digging through the first aid kits, one balanced on her lap and two open beside her; she showed no signs of going for the hidden hatchet and trying to kill the thing, so that had to be a good sign.

Not that that gave Wirt much of an idea of what the creature was if it wasn’t a demon.

He didn’t really want to ask.

It did explain why someone had covered the window, though. Not so much as a shaft of sunlight was peeking through, so there was no way someone from outside could just happen to glance in and see…that.

“What—?”

“Jim and Claire are hurt,” Toby said, and Wirt tore his eyes away from the beast and finally realized that Jazz stood with Toby over a figure on Wirt’s bed, this one in that purple armour Claire had been wearing.

Was still wearing.

Toby was still wearing his armour, too. Wirt was pretty sure he wasn’t imagining the blood on it. He shivered, suddenly cold despite the fact that he knew he was still sweaty from that run. There was just…so much here he hadn’t known. And that creature….

He hadn’t realized that anything could give him chills like this. Since the Unknown, horror movies and such had never given him the creeps. They weren’t real, and he knew that, so he just never let himself be bothered by it. But this?

This thing was real.

And definitely not human.

And probably not a demon, since Wendy had no problem with it. At least, it wasn’t glowing. Its eyes might be, if they were open, but they weren’t, so—

No. He couldn’t go down that rabbit hole now. This one was bad enough. Wirt swallowed. “Badly?”

“Bad enough,” Wendy said as she hopped off the desk to give Toby whatever she’d been looking for in the kit. “A home stitch job isn’t going to make a concussion go away.”

“Let me, I’ve had a lot of practice,” Jazz said, reaching for something from Wendy. It wasn’t until she’d ripped open the package and fished out the contents that he realized it held sterilized needles. That wasn’t standard for first aid kits, right?

“This is crazy,” Wirt said. “We need to get her to the hospital.” He moved to stand at the end of his bed and tried to ignore the monster who lay on Toby’s in his peripheral vision. He stared at Claire’s armour instead, noting the smoothness of its joints and trying not to see what the others were doing. A quick glance had told him entirely too much. “She needs actual medical care. Last I checked, none of you guys have graduated med school.”

“No, but I’d wager we’re all experts in home treatment,” Wendy said. “Toby never flunked that part of the apocalypse prep courses, if you’ll remember.”

“I thought that was just your idea of first aid on steroids.”

“We don’t need an audience,” Jazz interrupted, and Wirt didn’t need to lift his head to know she hadn’t looked up from threading her needle. “Go help Danny.”

Wirt hadn’t actually seen Danny, so he glanced around the room again. “Where is he? Trying find someone to help?”

“He’s checking over Jimbo,” Toby said quietly. He was still looking over the piece of armour that was jutting out of Claire’s arm. Her arm. Speared by what Wirt could only assume was her own armour, though he couldn’t imagine how. He could see her losing a piece of plate, sure, but having it come back, sharpened to a point and tearing through her flesh— No, he couldn’t think about that right now. He quickly looked away, staring at Toby’s helmetless head instead and realizing how much sweat had plastered down his hair. “He and Claire got it bad. Jim can shake off a lot, but there was some dark magic in this mix.”

“Jim,” Wirt repeated. He remembered that name. “He was that other kid you were close friends with in high school, right? Tall, lanky? I think you raved about his food?” In truth, the last was the only thing Wirt remembered. Toby always raved about Jim’s food. Apparently, he made a mean omelet. “Did you at least drop him at the walk-in clinic or—?”

Toby finally met Wirt’s eyes. He looked…drained. That was the only way Wirt could think to describe it. “He’s on my bed.”

Wait.

What?

Wirt looked. The monster was still very much there. And now that he looked a little higher, he could see Danny hovering above him. Literally hovering. Maybe two feet from the ceiling. He’d paused in whatever examination he’d been doing to stuff his hand in his mouth and try to stifle his laughter, but he lost that battle the moment he realized Wirt had seen him.

“This is a prank,” Wirt said, coming to that conclusion again. That was the only thing that made sense. They’d finally done it. He didn’t know how they’d done, but they’d gotten him good, and he’d admit that. “Good one, guys. You really had me going.”

“This blood isn’t faked,” Wendy said bluntly. “Trust me, Wirt, if we were going to prank you, we’d all be laughing.”

“Sorry,” Danny whispered as he dropped down to Wirt’s eye level. “I just…. When I realized you hadn’t seen me, I couldn’t resist.” The smile dropped off his face as he added, “They’re right, though. This is serious. Definitely worse than the time Sam got hit by some of Skulker’s shrapnel.” His feet finally hit the floor again, and he pointed at the mon—at Jim. “Look at the way the armour impacted. It’s like he ran into a wall. Which he wouldn’t do, because when his eyes are open, they actually function. My guess is Jim has a lot of internal injuries, even with that stoneskin of his. Plus, y’know, the sheer amount of magic it would’ve taken to knock out him out. I’m surprised they were strong enough to bring him back here. He would’ve been dead weight.”

He turned away from Wirt, leaving Wirt to stare at the creature’s—Jim’s?—face and try to see something other than solid stone.

And trying to see the human face of the kid he’d thought had been Toby’s friend Jim in there somewhere.

However, Wirt was not so absorbed that he didn’t hear Danny’s utterly ridiculous question. “You guys can open portals to the Ghost Zone, right?”

How could this be real? It shouldn’t be real. It was even more insane than the Unknown, because he could pretend that that had just been a dream, complete with singing frogs and magical curses and nearly dying ten times over. There was a legitimate nightmarish monster lying on Toby’s bed that was apparently Jim, the amazing cook, and Jazz’s little brother had been floating, and—

“I mean, it doesn’t look like the Shadow Realm,” Toby said slowly. “Have you ever heard a name for it?”

“No,” was the hissed response, and Wirt blinked. He hadn’t realized Claire was conscious, even though he didn’t know who else Toby could have possibly been asking. “Haven’t seen anyone else there. Wouldn’t ask them where we were if I had.”

“Wait,” Wirt said. “What are we pretending happened here?”

“We’re not pretending anything because we’re not telling anyone else,” Wendy said without looking back at him. “But you should be able to guess what happened. Claire came to get Toby because they needed help. It went poorly.”

“Can I just see your staff?” Danny asked. “If I’m right and it does open portals to the Ghost Zone—and I really think I am—then I know someone who might be able to help Jim.”

“I’m willing to try anything. Claire?”

“Yeah.”

“Wendy, can you—?”

“I’ve got you covered,” Wendy said, smoothly swapping places with Toby.

Wirt backed up until he hit the door and tried not to think about how much blood was on Toby’s hands right now. He felt…out of place. More out of place than usual. Even more out of place than he’d felt in the Unknown, and this was the real world.

His friends were all taking this easily, like they’d known each other’s secrets all along, but his gut told him they hadn’t. His gut had been wrong before, admittedly, but this time it was backed up by how Jazz and Wendy had reacted to each other’s bits of dropped knowledge earlier. There had been curiosity and consideration, but there hadn’t been doubt.

“You know how to work that thing, right? I can carry Jim. Heck, I can carry both of you if you can’t manage a portal to a specific spot in the Ghost Zone.”

“Claire’s the one who really knows how to work this thing, not me, and getting back here took enough out of her. I can make it open a portal but I’m not good enough to do a place, especially not to somewhere I haven’t seen.”

“Okay, I can carry you piggyback so I can hold Jim and you can have a hand free to work that staff. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

Toby reached over Claire to grab something from the bed, and Danny…changed.

Wirt had closed his eyes against the bright light, but when he opened them, he recognized Danny Phantom from the pictures he’d seen while researching Amity Park.

“Awesomesauce,” was all Toby said before lifting up some kind of baton that glowed and grew into a staff and—

That was definitely a portal in their room, opening up as quickly as if reality were tissue paper that Toby had just stabbed through with his finger instead of gestured at with that staff.

It was a huge, vividly green portal that pulsed brightly enough to make the overhead light seem dim, and it apparently led into the Ghost Zone, of all places….

Jazz’s little brother, who was none other than Danny Phantom, with Wirt’s armour-wearing and staff-wielding roommate Toby on his back, picked up and cradled the giant monster that was somehow Toby’s friend Jim in his arms before flying all of them through that portal.

It winked out behind them as it had never been there.

“Wirt, Danny put some ice in the bathroom sink. Can you wrap some in a towel and bring it here?”

Where had Danny gotten ice? It wasn’t like this was a hotel and there was an ice machine down the hall or something. The cafeteria was in an entirely different building, but maybe he’d gone there for some. Even if it was winter, there wasn’t exactly a lot of ice or snow outside.

Then again. Danny Phantom. Wirt had a vague recollection of a reference to ice powers.

Wirt moved robotically, trying not to be surprised by the fact that the sink was full of perfect ice cubes that weren’t melting, or at least weren’t melting enough to stick to each other yet, and scooped a handful into a hand towel that he hoped was clean. Those had never gone missing like the socks, but they weren’t always remembered come laundry day, either.

He came out and handed the homemade ice pack to Wendy, trying not to stare at Claire’s pale face or the bruises already beginning to blossom on it. There was no sign of the helmet she’d been wearing earlier, though that cut that came entirely too close to her eye might be the reason for its absence, if someone had gotten in a lucky strike with a spear—

“I’ll be fine,” she hissed between clenched teeth when she noticed him. “I’ve had worse.”

Having had worse didn’t mean she was fine now. She shouldn’t be conscious. Well, she at least shouldn’t be this coherent, shouldn’t be able to read his expression and know his thoughts so easily. Was he really that transparent? Wendy had been worried about a concussion. Maybe—

“Go get some air,” Jazz said. “We don’t need you fainting on us, and we can handle this ourselves.”

He hadn’t been thinking about fainting. If anything, he’d been debating running away from here and just never coming back. This kind of stuff was supposed to be reasonable and stay in dreams and stories instead of invading perfectly logical or rational realities. Or maybe he just needed to talk to someone who wouldn’t judge him for what would sound like wild fantasies. A real therapist, not Jazz.

“Hey, you still with us?”

That was Wendy. She would not appreciate Wirt saying no. “Yeah,” he croaked out.

“Good. Then go. Get yourself a drink. Take a moment for this to sink in. Then you can come back and we can talk.”

He didn’t want to talk.

He didn’t want this to be real.

Why did this have to be real?

The Unknown was just supposed to be a dream. He didn’t want to admit that, yes, he’d actually travelled to another dimension or stumbled into some limbo between life and death or whatever it had been—

Maybe he really was losing it. Maybe none of this was real and it just felt real. Though, if he was delusional, this went way beyond his friends supporting him. This was…. Either this was enabling him or none of this was real and—

“Wirt.” Jazz again. “Seriously. Talk to us. What do you need? Would you rather just lie down for a bit instead?”

Right. Lie down where the monster that was Jim had been. Since that bed was free now that he and Toby and Danny had left through a portal in reality.

“Yeah, he’s not okay.” Wendy. “Hold down the fort. I’m going to wash up and get him out of here.”

He didn’t register that Wendy had moved until she was steering him out the door with still-wet hands. She paused only long enough to close the door behind her before pushing him forward.

It took entirely too long for him to realize that they were going to her favourite hidden corner on campus, a bench on the path that passed the bio and chem buildings that was half-hidden by bushes and trees in a little alcove by the northwest entrance to bio that Wirt had never seen anyone use.

“Sit.”

Wirt sat.

Wendy dropped down beside him. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

There was really no point in lying. Wendy would call him on it. He spoke in short, halting sentences, not so much because he didn’t know what he was thinking as because he wasn’t sure of a sane way of wording any of it. But that was the crux of it, really. Sanity didn’t factor into any of this. So, he just told her the truth, as best he could.

Wendy, being Wendy, never laughed at him. Never denied any of this. Never reassured him that it wasn’t real or that she hadn’t seen what he had.

“Yeah,” she said when he’d stopped for long enough that it was clear to her he didn’t intend to continue. “That about sums it up, I guess.”

“How does this not….” He swallowed and tried again. “Did you know?”

“About what, Jazz and Danny? Not really. I never bothered doing research on her or anything. I just knew she could take care of herself, and that was enough for me. I learned the details when you did.”

“Toby?”

She grimaced. “I knew something was there. I didn’t know it was this big. Trolls weren’t something I’d encountered in Gravity Falls. Don’t get me wrong; they’re probably there. And from what I know about the Gremloblin, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s related.”

“The what?”

She shrugged. “Half-gremlin, half-goblin. Makes you see your worst nightmare if you look it in the eyes. Dipper captured it once. Or at least one of them, if it’s a species and not just a rare hybrid.”

She didn’t look like she was kidding.

Wirt groaned. “This can’t be real life.”

Wendy raised an eyebrow at him. “You are lucky Mabel isn’t here for this conversation or she’d take that as a cue to start singing.” When Wirt didn’t say anything else, she continued, “Look, I know this is a lot. You’ve obviously been in denial for a long time. But if we’re going to be able to help Toby and Claire and Jim, you need to pull yourself together. Like it or not, this is real life. It’s your life, it’s my life, it’s all our messed up lives. You can choose to walk away from this. I know Toby won’t judge you for that; he’s a better person than I am. But if you want to walk away, you need to be prepared to either cut us off completely so you can ignore everything that’s going on in our lives or cover for us when this stuff does come up, even if your involvement ends there. It’s your choice, but you need to make it soon.”

“But—”

“This isn’t me trying to pressure you into making a decision. It’s me telling you that we don’t have time for you to weigh every pro and con about every feasible scenario you can think of. We’re in the middle of this now, and we need to know if you’re in or out.”

“I don’t know—”

“That’s why I’m going to let you think it over and figure it out. Unless you want me to stay here and listen some more?”

She was more use to Claire than she was to him, so he shook his head.

“Okay. Text me if you wanna talk one-on-one with someone before you come back. As far as your decision goes…. We’ll do what we can to protect you either way, but I’m not going to promise you that you’ll be fine. I don’t know if you will be. I don’t know if I will be. I don’t know enough about what’s going on despite what Toby told me when Danny and I got there, but even if I did know, I still couldn’t make that guarantee. We’ll never be able to give you that guarantee.”

“I just…. I don’t know if I’m ready for any of this.”

“No one is. Well, I like to think I was more prepared for my first apocalypse than the average person, but for the most part? No one is.”

“Wait, what do you mean, first apocalypse?”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I helped save the world once. And I don’t think it’s a lie to say I’m not the only one, so it wouldn’t be a stretch to think I might wind up helping stop a second.” Wendy got to her feet. “Just think about it. Take some time to clear your head and sort things out. We’ll be in your dorm room until Toby gets back, and one of us will text you if we leave before you show up.”

“I don’t think I can do this,” whispered Wirt, looking away so he didn’t have to see Wendy’s face when he admitted that.

“Then you don’t have to. But don’t give up until you give it some real thought, okay?”

“Okay.”

He didn’t look up as she walked away.

(see more fics | next)

#otgw #danny phantom #trollhunters #gravity falls #toa trollhunters #fanfiction #crossover #my writing #ladylynse #snippets #crossover snippet #dp snippet #trollhunters snippet #otgw snippet #gf snippet

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jess-rewatches-prodigalson · 3 years

Text

Bad Manners (S2, E5)

My time-stamped thoughts for this episode. As always I reference Malcolm’s mental health. A lot. So if that’s going to be a trigger for you, don’t keep reading.

SPOILERS AHEAD:

0:35 - Martin totally thought John Watkins abducted and killed Ainsley. Mark my words.

0:44 - Holy. Shit. Ainsley is FIVE years old (or younger) here right? A five year old with that much determination?!?! She literally stayed silent in that clock for probably hours......and no one was concerned about this kid when Martin was arrested because...?

1:09 - Anyone else impressed with Malcolm’s aim here? Just me?

1:20 - Gil and Malcolm talking about sleep and murder is so freaking sweet. <3 Honestly, they’re acting like friends instead of co-workers and it warms my cold dead heart.

1:29 - Does Gil become a grumpy old man when he doesn’t get 8 hours sleep? I really want to know now.

1:39 - OMG. Gil pointing at Ainsley here is hilarious. He’s totally acting like some weird mix of a stern pissed off high-school teacher, and a step-dad trying to discipline an unruly teen. hahaha AND MALCOLM’S FACE. Look how done Malcolm is. He looks so so tired, sad, and exasperated.

1:44 - Wow. Girl power. Ainsley has those camera guys bending to her will. I honestly would’ve thought they would just read the situation and turn the camera off themselves.

1:47 - “It’s not a game.” Yikes. I have thoughts about this:

Malcolm is right - it’s not a game.

Malcolm is a bit of a hypocrite for saying that to Ainsley. Although, to his credit even when Malcolm is excited/inappropriately happy about murder it’s always pretty clear that he thinks murder is wrong, and that he has sympathy for the victims and their families.

Ainsley does not have that same sympathy for the victims. That much is clear later in this episode.

Pretty sure the writers are trying to turn Ainsley into a serial killer this season.

2:13 - “You know I like to share these things with my friends.” .....does this mean Malcolm thinks Dani and JT are his friends now? Last I checked (Ep 1x05) Malcolm didn’t have friends. This absolutely melts my heart. <3 I’m honestly so happy that Malcolm considers someone other than Gil to be his friend.

2:18 - “We lost Dani to vice.” .....What is vice? AND WHAT IS THE REAL LIFE REASON THAT DANI WASN’T IN THIS EPISODE?!?

2:19 - Edrisa has a medical degree right? She has to know how dangerous consuming that much caffeine is right? Plus aren’t energy drinks super dangerous if you drink a lot of them (or maybe that’s just what adults in my neighbourhood told kids)?

2:30 - Edrisa SHINES in this episode. She’s so funny and awkward and I just love her.

2:36 - hahaha Gil has adopted the whole team. Look at him throwing the “Dad warning stare” at Edrisa.

3:31 - Why does Edrisa start bouncing around looking upset when Malcolm says, “rejection is a powerful motivator”?!?! Has she recently been broken up with or something? Is this a reference to how she has a crush on Malcolm (who doesn’t reciprocate)? I WANT MORE INFORMATION.

3:47 - TWIZZLERS!!! <3 Damn I love how this tiny detail about Malcolm’s character keeps coming up.

3:55 - Ainsley is on a rampage this episode. She’s so determined ...actually she’s acting a lot like Jessica (think girl in the box bracelet). However, unlike Jessica, Ainsley’s motives aren’t about justice or the safety of her loved ones. Ainsley is chasing personal gain (career) with a side of (a subconscious?) need to be exposed to murder and her father’s twisted world.

4:05 - This whole interaction between Ainsley and Malcolm is really interesting. Ainsley is knowingly manipulating Malcolm to get the answers she wants. We’ve seen her do it in 2x4 and 1x19. She knows her big brother would do anything for her. It makes sense, they’re five years apart and after the trauma they experienced as children Malcolm felt responsible to protect Ainsley. He never wants to disappoint Ainsley. Not a burden he should’ve had to deal with but I digress. PLUS Malcolm looks weary of Ainsley here. He knows what she’s doing. He’s scared that she’s turning to the dark side. But he still gives her the answers because if he doesn’t - that means something has changed. He thinks that would make Ainsley suspicious and then she might remember what happened to Endicott. He’s scared of and for Ainsley.

4:32 - OKAY. I’ll say it. The thing that annoys me the most about this episode is that it suggests that Ainsley was a debutant when in 1x6 AINSLEY TELLS MARTIN SHE WAS NEVER A DEBUTANT. She went to etiquette school - I guess that doesn’t strictly mean she also did debutant balls but it sort of suggests it in the context of this episode? Did she actually graduate from the etiquette school (there was bullying, maybe she was expelled/dropped out similar to Malcolm and Remington?)?

4:59 - “No stabbies” OMG. How is this show not classified as a comedy?!? Istg I laugh harder watching this ‘drama’ then I do watching most of the shows that call themselves ‘comedies’.

5:35 - It’s honestly kind of amazing that Ainsley and Malcolm are as ‘sane’ as they are. They were raised by a stubborn predatory psychopath and a stubborn rich meddling socialite. They had no chance of normalcy. Look at the amount of pleasure Martin is currently getting by throwing his son under the bus with regards to Jessica.

5:45 - “No actually, I cleaned it up.”.....does this have a dual meaning? Did Martin do something to make Malcolm dispose of the body? We already know that Martin has tried some sort of conditioning on Malcolm (remember ‘C’mon boy!’ from 1x14? The stabbing?). What if Martin said some sort of trigger word to control Malcolm and coerced Malcolm into getting rid of the body? What if this isn’t the first time?

6:05 - Ainsley is a sociopath. I’m calling it again. I called it when I first watched Q&A (1x7) because the way she treated Malcolm was more than just selfish/careless. It was cruel and she didn’t feel any remorse for literally broadcasting her brother’s private health details on television. That is messed up. I honestly won’t be shocked if the writers make Ainsley a full blown serial killers (although I’m not sure I want that because I don’t know how Malcolm would remain the main character if the story goes in that direction?).

6:12 - Poor Jessica. I honestly feel really bad for her. Sure, she’s a headstrong alcohol dependant crazy rich woman. She also has a good heart. She’s been dealt a pretty shitty hand when it comes to relationships (minus Gil but she ruined that because she’s a MORON) and now she’s terrified that her own children have become monsters and she blames herself. She definitely hasn’t been a perfect mother but I don’t think she’s to blame for Ainsley and Malcolm’s obsession with murder. If these kids had a different bio dad, they would probably just have a low-key drug problem or some other common rich kid baggage.

6:15 - “You know that’s not how cancer works right?” LOL. hahahaha

6:33 - Martin kind of has a point. There’s no rehab for murder. That’s why he’s been in jail for 20 years and he still wants to kill people. In my opinion, given what we’ve seen of Ainsley’s personality: as soon as she fully remembers that night - she’s gone. She’ll go full serial killer and Jessica and Malcolm will lose her forever.

6:40 - Jessica’s little jazz hand finger twinkle as she spins on her heel and leaves Martin kills me. It’s so extra. It’s so funny. And it’s sooo Jessica.

6:47 - Damn. Martin is pissed. I’m worried. That’s murder-level rage. If he escapes ISTG Martin is going to try and kill Gil. For so many reasons 1) because he hates Gil, 2) it’ll hurt Jessica, and 3) killing Gil will eliminate his ‘Dad’ competition.

6:54 - Edrisa on caffeine is AMAZING.

7:43 - I love Edrisa but her blatant, unreciprocated crush on Malcolm is honestly getting a little creepy.

7:52 - Gil spent all last season drinking out of a Yankee’s mug. Doesn’t that mean he’s a baseball fan? Why doesn’t he know this pitcher guy?

7:56 - hahahaa “Where is JT?” Because obviously JT is the team sports fan.

8:22 - Does Gil get nightmares about cases? He always seems really uncomfortable around the dead bodies.

8:45 - “And suddenly I’m wide awake” SERIOUSLY - is anyone else laughing every 60 seconds when they watch this show? Is my sense of humour just super dark and messed up?

8:54 - YES. The liquorice is BACK.

9:00 - I love Malcolm talking to JT about his obsession with candy. I love how Malcolm doesn’t even hesitate before giving JT an honest answer. Malcolm is acting like JT’s annoying little brother and I am here for it. One thing I did notice though - Malcolm specifically mentions candy+dopamine but doesn’t mention his depression/anxiety. Processed sugar can be a short-term (unhealthy) way to boost your mood. It’s why some people eat their feelings. I really want more backstory about Malcolm with the lollipops and licorice though.

9:19 - “But you didn’t do anything wrong.” Awwww Malcolm is so soft here. I love how much he genuinely cares about JT. <3 I love how JT is comfortable enough with Malcolm to give him an honest answer. <3 THEIR RELATIONSHIP HAS GONE THROUGH SUCH A GLOW UP. <3

9:32 - “Like toy dolls?” hahaha the way Malcolm perked up here. All I could think was “SQUIRREL!” hahaha.

9:41 - Malcolm is doing better than he has been the past few episodes? I mean he’s still suffering and he’s still in a terrible mental state. BUT he also seems happier? IDK maybe he’s just entered the more manic nervous energy stage of his emotions as opposed to the depressed and scared stage.

9:49 - “Deep childhood trauma”. So we’re looking for a debutant killer with childhood trauma who is chasing perfection? Debutant = rich lady culture. Like Ainsley. AND Ainsley went to the same etiquette school as the first two victims. The writer’s wanted us to assume the killer was Ainsley for the first 15 mins of this episode right? I’m not the only one seeing it?

10:04 - “My sister went there too.” ....why is there something super attractive about the way that line was delivered?

10:08 - I’m so done with this absolute tom foolery. Why does the team keep splitting up into two teams - where one team is JUST MALCOLM. The one who is unarmed and technically a civilian?!? This makes no logical sense to me (except for plot).

10:25 - Was Martin just about to say, “Just like the old days”?!? Is Martin referring to Endicott? OR is Martin referring to something that Malcolm’s repressed from his childhood?

10:30 - “I always root for the bad guys.” .....finally some truth from Martin.

10:40 - Soooooo I guess Mr. David doesn’t know? I promise you Mr. David has suspicions though. How could he not?!?!

11:24 - “It was brutal for Ains.” Look at how sad Malcolm is! Ugh. This hurts so much. He clearly loves his sister so so much and what she’s done is slowly killing him. I honestly think that part of the reason Malcolm helped Ainsley dispose of the body is that Malcolm doesn’t want to loose his sister. His sister is one of the only good things he’s always been able to count on. If word gets around that she’s a killer - Malcolm’s fragile world gets shattered a little more and I don’t know if Malcolm can recover mentally from that.

11:36 - “Teasing made her capable of...stuff.” C’MON. There’s no way Mr. David doesn’t know.

11:45 - Sooo is Martin saying that he recognized that Ainsley was a sociopath when she was a small child? Or did she just respond to his (or John Watkins’) grooming much ‘better’ than Malcolm?

11:56 - “Because she’s her mother’s” Okay. So I see the point. I can see that Ainsley is driven and stubborn like Jessica. BUT it feels like Martin is suggesting that Jessica is capable of murder? Which - I honestly don’t think she is. If anything - Malcolm is more like Jessica than Ainsley is.

11:59 - There was a look in Martin’s eyes when he was comparing Ainsley to Jessica that really freaked me out. I can’t figure out why. It makes me wonder if Martin still somehow views Jessica as ‘his possession’ (he refers to her as his wife all the time but I always assumed that was just to get a rise out of people?). Martin’s dream from 2x4 certainly suggests that he still wants Jessica romantically. I honestly think he’s going to try to escape and rekindle the romance with Jess; and it’s going to go very poorly when Jessica rejects him.

12:06 - Preach JT. Preach. This is creepy af.

13:00 - Ugh. Of course this creep has a history of indecent exposure. Now I understand why Gil and JT were hostile with the dude right from the start.

13:12 - Man. People will use the Bible to justify anything. No wonder people hate Christians ( I say this as a practicing Christian).

13:18 - JT is such a good dude. I’m so glad he’s a dad now. <3 He’s going to be such a good one. <3

13:26 - “One phone call and this place will be shut down.” OH SHIT. GIL THAT IS VICIOUS AND I RESPECT THE SHIT OUT OF IT.

13:35 - I soooo thought that dude was going to sprint out of that room.

14:30 - THIS. YES. This is why I have a problem with Ainsley’s enthusiasm for murder vs. Malcolm’s. Ainsley’s enthusiasm is centred on her nee to ‘get the story’. She’s obsessed with forwarding her career and as a result she’s treating crime like a competitive sport. Malcolm’s obsession (while it can border on creepy and reckless) is always centred on his need to find the killer and stop the murders. Malcolm is seeking justice and his heart is in the right place. I can’t say the same for Ainsley.

14:31 - “We’re brother and sister, everything is a competitive sport”.....whoever wrote this doesn’t have a sibling they experienced trauma with as a kid (and as a result was raised by a single parent). Seriously, my dad was abusive he lived with us until I was 10 and my brother was 7. Then my parents got divorced and my mom was a single parent (he didn’t pay child support or see his kids after the divorce). Are my brother and I competitive? Sure sometimes. But the way we grew up forced us to become partners. Annoyed with Mom? Let’s rant about it together. Is he struggling in math? I’ll tutor him in exchange for a Reese cup. Am I struggling at daycare because I have massive social anxiety? He’ll include me in whatever he’s doing so I’m not sitting alone in a corner. My point: siblings who experience trauma together don’t have the typical sibling relationships that are widely televised in North America. There’s a lot less fighting and competition and a lot more teaming up and commiserating.

14:39 - “It. It’s terrible.” - Notice how Ainsley didn’t actually say how it made her feel? She gave the standard “TV response” to a murder “a terrible/horrific/tragedy has occurred”. She doesn’t feel bad that these women are dead. She’s too consumed with getting a story to even stop and let herself feel anything. I’ve been saying it since last season - the way Ainsley shows no regard for other people and their feelings when she’s obsessed with her job is concerning.

14:50 - “Remind me of the people who cut us off after Dad’s arrest.” ...Are you kidding me?!? The whole fandom has been speculating about this since early season one and they’re not going to elaborate on that line?!? I’m going to need some more information about this and it better be in the upcoming episode where Jessica’s younger sister appears.

15:40 - She thinks of her students as family? Sooo what does she think of Ainsley? Wasn’t Ainsley bullied at this school? Did she do anything about it?

16:00 - this is like a ‘weekend/evening school’ right? Kids aren’t living in this house like a boarding school/summer camp?

16:01 - “Mr. Whitly” UGH. This bitch preaches etiquette and she doesn’t even have the common courtesy to call Malcolm by the name with which he introduced himself? Nah. I don’t like her.

16:13 - Ugh. Ainsley, seriously? Why don’t you help your brother solve the case. AND PREVENT MORE MURDERS. Why are you indirectly but purposely obstructing justice?

16:37 - “Of course.” Huh. Do you think Martin might try and manipulate Ainsley into killing Malcolm? Ainsley definitely capable of it. She doesn’t actually seem to care about Malcolm nearly as much as he cares about her.

17:17 - WTF?!? That’s creepy af. How did no one in this show think this assistant was a suspect? She has a super creepy doll that she ‘forgot’ on the floor the middle of a hallway. AND THE DOLL WAS STANDING UP. Not sitting, not dropped carelessly, STANDING UP.

17:30 - Look at Malcolm’s face. He’s definitely going to be having nightmares about that doll.

18:25 - OMG. This was amazing. JT just totally bulldozed his way into catching that dude. Very badass. Also kind of funny (maybe that’s just my messed up sense of humour again?).

18:44 - Ugh. This dude has a thing for dolls. I don’t want to kink shame but - no. no. There’s something really gross about that.

18:48 - I’ve seen some people say that this doll looks like Ainsley and how that’s supposed to be some sort of foreshadowing/symbolism. I kind of see it? I mean the hair colour is similar and if you pause the screen at 18:48 the angle kind of looks like Ainsley? It would be an interesting metaphor though - Ainsley played with dolls as a little girl. John Watkins gave her angel statues. She is Watkins’ and Martin’s doll’ in the sense that she was the object that murders manipulated/groomed.

18:53 - Then again, pause the screen here and there’s something about the facial structure that looks like Dani to me.

19:00 - Jessica lets Ainsley work in the murder office?!? No. No she doesn’t. This is garbage. Jessica would’ve forbade it. Jessica would’ve bordered up this room immediately after Watkins.

19:57 - Poor Jessica. She’s clearly terrified that she’s losing Ainsley and terrified of Ainsley. BUT Jess, sweetie, running to Europe won’t fix this.

20:16 - “She wanted the dolls to look like her students.” AND PEOPLE SEND THEIR CHILDREN TO HER?!? WTF?!? NO. NO. NO. NOT OKAY.

20:31 - HAHA look at Gil’s face when Trevor tells him he can make the ‘perfect woman’. Gil’s like WTF - can I arrest you for thinking you can fabricate a ‘perfect woman’?!!?

21:06 - Malcolm is having so much fun playing with Trevor’s doll head. Look at how excited he is. It’s kind of adorable but his manic energy is showing which is concerning.

21:10 - Why is Trevor giving his doll fancy 1940s(ish) names?

21:31 - Props to LDP. I honestly believed Gil was annoyed with Malcolm for barging in on the interrogation the first time I watched this.

21:42 - “They got a word for everything.” hahaha OMG. This is so reminiscent of a teenager explaining some new tech to their tech-illiterate parents.

22:00 - I can’t tell if Gil feels sorry for this creep or if he just thinks the dude is really gross. Probably a mixture.

23:00 - Oh we’re bringing up the chloroform again. At least Malcolm knows not listen to Martin about this nonsense.

23:25 - “It doesn’t feel fun.” - THIS. This is why I honestly don’t think Malcolm will ever become a serial killer. His guilt complex is just too big.

23:56 - Are. You. Kidding. Me? This is next level. Ainsley is so out of line here. AND SHE SHOWS NO REMORSE. SHE DOESN’T THINK SHE’S DONE ANYTHING WRONG. THIS GIRL HAS GONE DARK SIDE (she was already halfway there).

24:17 - I’m getting papa!Gil vibes when Gil is talking to Ainsley and I want more scenes of them interacting. Seriously, did Gil have a relationship with Ainsley when she was a kid? I MUST KNOW.

24:45 - Ainsley has no conscience. I honestly don’t think Ainsley has a conscience.

25:00 - “Who is that!?” Malcolm is totally acting like he’s Ainsley’s father-figure right now. I’m here for it.

25:22 - SORE LOSERS?!? I’m sorry. What? If you weren’t concerned about Ainsley you damn well should be now. That is seriously messed up. People are dead. This is not a game. Do you know who else thought murder was a game? Martin Whitly.

25:31 - Okay. Ainsley has a point. Malcolm lecturing anyone about being reckless is pretty hypocritical. But at least Malcolm cares about her.

25:54 - Heart. Shattered. Look at how terrified Jessica is. Look at how gentle and reassuring Gil is. UGh. WHY DID SHE BREAK UP WITH HIM??! I mean, I know why I just think she’s a moron for doing it.

26:00 - Poor Gil. He’s so confused and so concerned. The whole Whitly family is acting crazier then usual and he doesn’t know why.

26:11 - “Both you and Malcolm are at an 11 and I’ve never seen Ainsley like that.” FIND YOURSELF A MAN WHO CARES LIKE GIL AND NEVER LET HIM GO. <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 Seriously. The love and concern he shows for this family warms my cold dead heart.

26:16 - “Her father?!” Oh shit. Now Gil knows there’s something BIG happening. Jessica would never run to Martin unless she absolutely had to.

26:19 - annnnd Gil’s also being a prideful man who’s feeling are hurt. “You went to him?” He’s right to be though - the woman he loves went to a serial killer for advice before going to the guy who practically co-parented with her.

26:33 - “I’m here. Whatever you need. I’m here.” <3 <3 Gil is the definition of a good man. <3 I’m in love with it.

26:48 - “You were right on time for me.” ....*snort* subtle Gil (and in front of JT!!)

27:08 - Edrisa is hysterical on caffeine. hahaha. This whole scene is perfect.

27:20 - You know someone is acting manic when Malcolm Bright is concerned about their eccentric behaviour.

27:34 - Annnnnd Tom Payne was a split second from breaking character here. I don’t blame him. hahaha

28:05 - EDRISA flipping and dropping that pencil. HAHAHAHAHAHA

29:10 - “Absolutely not.” hahaha this is funny but also really sweet. Malcolm knows that Edrisa hopped up on caffeine isn’t safe to have near an active killer. Who knows what’ll happen. I wish he’d care that much about his own well being. Looks like calling for backup last episode was a one time thing.

30:37 - I’ll give the writers one thing - Miss Windsor makes a convincing murder suspect.

31:22 - GIL. STANDING. UP. FOR. JT. IS. EVERYTHING. Where is O’Malley’s back up? Oh yeah, they’re not brave enough to defend him.

32:00 - Huh. Bright texted for backup. This is growth. I’m proud of him.

32:15 - YES. This JT arc was handled right. Sure JT could’ve complained. It would’ve been episodes upon episodes of bureaucratic nightmares and injustice. This show isn’t about racism. They showed enough to portray that the system is broken and they had JT act like a responsible adult. It’s not fair that JT had to go through this or that he’ll likely experience something similar to it again. But the fact that JT is acting like a bigger person is perfect. JT will protect his family. Always. That includes Malcolm. So JT avoids putting through a formal complaint because he knows that will take time away from doing his job, from protecting others, from hanging out with his wife and kid. JT’s taking the higher road, it might not be gratifying or fair but I respect the hell out of him for taking it.

32:28 - Gil is so so proud of JT. Look at him. <3 <3

33:40 - Look, Miss Windsor is a bit of a stuck up bitch but she has a good heart. Look at the way she immediately tells Malcolm where Ainsley is when she realizes what’s happening.

34:14 - This confused me during the first watch - Ainsley obviously didn’t drink any tea - so why is she drugged? (obviously I know now).

34:17 - Big brother Malcolm frantically looking for Ainsley is so so sweet. <3

35:42 - The music, the dolls, and Miss Windsor’s speech here. There’s something about this part of the episode that is strangely reminiscent of 5x16 of Criminal Minds.

36:20 - ......does Miss Windsor have some sort of mental illness? She’s talking to herself and ranting erratically. Is this just emotional stress or something deeper?

37:00 - This is why Malcolm’s not a serial killer. Even now- looking at a killer - he’s trying to sympathize with her. He’s trying to understand why. He’s trying to calm her down, diffuse the threat, and get her mental help.

39:00 - Oh yeah. Ainsley was definitely going to kill without remorse. Again. I’ve seen some theories that Ainsley only ever tries to kill to protect Malcolm. I disagree. I think Ainsley’s trying to protect herself. Ainsley is pissed off that this girl tried to drug her and kill her because she thinks Ainsley is wicked. Ainsley was pissed at Endicott for whatever he did to Ainsley before Malcolm got there. I think Ainsley felt threatened and scared so she reacted. I don’t think this has anything to do with protecting Malcolm.

39:41 - Malcolm isn’t a killer. Look. He smells gas but he takes the time to carry an unconscious murderer (who literally just tried to kill his sister) out of the building.

40:00 - The drama. Holy hell. What a weird ending to this case.

40:48 - Who gave Ainsley a police jacket and let her keep it?

41:14 - She almost died and she’s still obsessing over ‘winning’. This is seriously unstable behaviour. Way more concerning than anything Malcolm’s done since 2x1.

41:45 - “My father was a serial killer also.” Anyone else super irritated by that phrasing?!? Just me?!? Something about the ‘also’ feels super wrong to me.

41:53 - Oh sweetie. I’d argue that you are more messed up than Malcolm.

42:06 - Jessica went to see Martin twice in one episode. THIS IS BAD.

42:15 - “Maybe even more so than Malcolm if that’s possible.” Jessica knows her kids. I’m on her side here.

42:20 - Martin is way too happy about Ainsley showing signs of serial killing.

42:30 - Jessica? You married an act. That man never existed. He’s always been a serial killer. You just didn’t know it. He’s manipulative and you were a victim to it.

42:50 - “A partner.” OH THIS IS NOT GOING TO END WELL. ESPECIALLY FOR THE GIL/JESSICA ARC.

Okay....so definitely the weakest episode of the season so far. AND the fact that we got no mention of Tally and/or the baby this episode is a crime.

BUT I’M SO SO SO EXCITED FOR THE NEXT EPISODE. It’s going to be a televised fanfic and I can’t wait.

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heyheydidjaknow · 3 years

Text

Can I have a lighthearted chapter? No, I cannot. Can I upload at the due date? Also no. But you can always count on me to make characters suffer. I would say that I'm sorry, but then I would be a liar.

Chapter 8

“Will you shut up?”

Donatello looks up from his computer. “Huh?”

Raphael’s eyes do not leave his magazine. “You’ve been muttering under your breath for the past hour and it’s starting to get on my nerves.”

“You’ll live.”

“You won’t for long if you don’t cut that shit out.”

He sighs. “Are you ever content with just leaving me be?”

“As your brother? No.” He sets the article down. “You’ve been acting weird all week. Usually, I could not care less, but you wreck enough shit without the added benefit of being distracted.”

He looks back at the screen. “So, I’m a ticking time bomb to you?”

“Yes.”

He looks back at the screen as he tries to think of how to answer. “It’s just that…”

“Oh, wait, don’t tell me.” He smirks. “You’re all depressed because your girlfriend has a life.”

He goes red. “I don’t care if—she’s not my girlfriend, first of all.” His voice rises.

“Sure, sure.” He stretches. “You know, typically, girls aren’t into guys who obsess over them.”

“Look, I’m worried about her!” He sets the computer down.

He blinks. “Why?”

“Are you kidding?” He throws his hands up in exasperation. “She killed a man!”

“Yeah,” he nods, “and I’m pissed I wasn’t the one to do it. What’s your point?”

“True,” he smiles cooly. “What you fail to consider, however, is that the rest of us aren’t psychotic.”

“I’m hurt.” He places his hand on his chest. “I will have you know that I’m definitely sane.”

“See, this is why nobody comes to you about their problems.” He leans his head back. “You ask why I’m down, and you immediately give me a hard time.”

They both turn their heads toward the entrance as their two other brothers walk back into the lair.

“How’d it go?” Raph gets up to meet them.

“You didn’t miss anything.” Leo sits down next to Donnie, glancing at his laptop before staring at the empty television screen. “Nobody was there.”

“Really?” Donnie’s eyes tear away from his computer screen. “Nobody?”

“Man, it was weird.” Michelangelo stays standing. “It was, like, two bots and then nothin’.”

“That is incredibly suspicious.” The tallest brother saves his work. “You used the stuff, right?”

“Worked like a charm.” Leonardo stretches. “So, what’d we miss?”

“Donnie bitching about not talking to his girlfriend for a whole week.”

“Can it,” he hisses.

“Donnie,” his brother speaks from next to him, “I’m sure that Y/N is perfectly fine. If you’re worried about her, you can and should go check on her.”

He groans. “If it were that simple, I would’ve done that by now.” He holds his head. “But what would I even say?”

He sighs, “I’m not going to say the same thing every time.” He gets up. “Mikey, you try. I’m going to go meditate if anyone wants to join.”

“Hey!” Mikey sticks his tongue out at him. “How come I have to do it?”

“Because Raphael is as cuddly as an eel.”

Raph glares. “Do you wanna go right now?”

“See?” He walks off. “And I did it last time. Your turn.” They hear the doors to the dojo slide closed behind him.

Mikey sits down in Leo’s spot. “If you want,” he offers as his brother walks off to the dojo, “I can try talking to her.”

“Would you?” He sighs. “I’m not good at this sort of thing.”

“For sure, man.” He gives him a thumbs up. “What are brothers for?”

“If you don’t make him do things,” Raphael warns, “he’s never going to learn to do them.”

“Man, he’s our bro.” He wraps an arm around his neck. “You can’t just leave your bro out to dry.”

“The hell I can’t.” He gets to his feet. “You guys have fun with that. I’ll be in my room.” He walks off, taking his pet turtle with him.

“Don’t listen to him.” He shoots his brother a thumbs up. “I’m sure everything will work out.” Mikey hopped to his feet. “Be back in a bit.” He waved, running out of the lair. “I’ll be back in ten.”

The look on his face is less than reassuring.

“Well?” Donatello, who has been checking the time religiously, is sitting at the door like a dog waiting for his owner. “How did it go?”

He smiles tightly. “I have good news and bad news.”

He groans, holding his head in his hands. “Just tell me.”

“Well,” he says hesitantly, crouching down in front of him, “she’s not dead.”

“That isn’t exactly a high bar to hurdle.” He takes a deep breath. “What’s the bad news?”

He pauses. “She’s… freaked out.”

“On a scale of one to ten,” he asks slowly, “with one being—”

“Nine.” His younger brother nods certainly. “At least a nine.”

He stands up. “I should go check on her.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what to do.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I think I made things worse, actually.”

“What else is new?” He runs out. “Tell Leo I’m going out,” he calls over his shoulder. He does not wait for a reply.

He does not blame himself entirely for the events currently happening; he is well aware that her inclusion into their mess was not willed by him. However, a part of him can not shake the belief that he and his brothers have, by virtue of their lifestyle, caused her more pain than he had ever wanted. A part of him, still, believes that he or someone else should have bitten the bullet; of them, you should be the last person in line to murder.

‘I should’ve said something, done something.’

He lands down on your roof, starting to scale down the building. You have left your window open: he can see your floral curtains fluttering in the autumn breeze. Artificial light streams from your apartment as soft music plays from inside. He lands on your windowsill carefully, reaching in past the curtains to knock on your wall. “Y/N?”

He hears the music shut off the shuffling of bedsheets, three steps. You pull the curtain open.

You have not slept in a week. You have continued to go to school, scared as to what would happen if you did not, but you have not eaten or drank in a while either; more accurately, nothing has stayed down. You have contributed these things, easily, to the newly introduced variety in your nightmares. You wonder, now, if seeing his body would have been such a bad thing; your head has conjured up every possible position he might have fallen in, anyhow. At least, if you knew, you would only have one image torturing you as opposed to the seemingly different variations your head could come up with.

Donnie is not a psychologist. He has never been able to fully grasp the subject as much as the others in the scientific field; all of medicine, for that matter, has, regrettably, been hard for him to wrap his head around, what with how different he and his brother are from humans, physiologically. His master was the closest he had to an actual human until you had shown up, but he was hardly exemplary of your typical human. However, be it by what knowledge he does have or by the way you hold yourself, he can easily tell you are off. The color in your face is gone, the bags under your eyes larger than he has ever seen them on you, and every move seems oddly sluggish to him.

“Oh, hey.” You smile tiredly. “If you’re here about Michelangelo, he was just here a few minutes ago.”

“I’m not.” He climbs inside. “He got back to the lair ten or so minutes ago. Are you alright?”

Your eyes are flooded with black for a moment, a wave of numb pain and vertigo washing over you as you spread your stance slightly, not wanting to trip over your own feet. You hold your face in your hand as you steady yourself. “Totally.” You wince as you nodded. ‘Let’s not move our head more than we need to.’

Years of attentiveness and common sense tell him that you are blatantly lying. “What happened?”

“Huh?” You close your eyes. “Oh, nothin.” You take a couple steps back, slowly sitting back down on the bed, which was covered in packets. “Please,” you insist, “make yourself comfortable.”

He shuts the curtains, crouching down in front of you to look your features over more closely as he tries to identify what, exactly, is wrong with you. “Am I allowed to touch you?”

You look down at him from your seat. “I mean,” you sigh, “you _can_, if you want. Just not anywhere a general physician wouldn’t touch, alright?” You give him a half-hearted thumbs up. “I trust you to know where you can and can’t put your hands.” You highly doubt that he has any bad intentions, really, but you want to make your intentions clear.

“O-oh, of course,” he nods quickly. “I wouldn’t do anything you wouldn’t—well, not that you wouldn’t—” his face went red. “I-I mean—”

“Dude, relax.” You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Take a deep breath or I’m gonna the wrong idea.”

He does “S-sorry.” He rubs the back of his neck. “That was weird.”

“You’re all good.”

He presses the back of his hand against your forehead. “You don’t have a fever,” he notes, still red in the face. “Did you eat anything you normally wouldn’t?”

You give him a thumbs down. “I’ve only had soup. Do you want some?”

He blinks. “Soup?”

“Yeah.” You look back at the kitchen, where a pot of soup is sitting on the counter. “Ran out of leftovers a couple days ago.”

His eyes widen. “Days?”

You nod, wincing as you feel your brain pounding against your skull. “Yeah,” you sigh. “It’s been hard to keep things down. Glad I ran out, actually; I think I got a—”

He cuts you off. “How many days do you take between meals?”

You pause. “Now?” You shrug. “One meal every day or two.”

“Day or two?”

“Again,” you repeat, very confused as to why he looks as though he is about to have a heart attack right then and there, “it’s been hard keeping stuff down lately.”

“How are you not dead?”

You blink. “I beg your pardon?”

His voice rises as his speech sped up. “How many cups of that do you eat in a sitting?”

You sit up properly. “Maybe three or four and a couple pieces of toast?”

He looks about ready to pass out. “Are you insane,” he cries, an octave higher than usual.

You cover his mouth with your hand. “Shut up,” you hiss. “You’re gonna wake my neighbors up.”

He stops talking, grabbing your hand and pulling it off his mouth. He gets up, muttering something about being ridiculous as he pours you an unusually large bowl of soup and placing it in your lap. “Eat.” He stands there, glaring at you pointedly.

You are, admittedly, surprised by his icy, commanding tone. You do as instructed. “You act as though I’ve poisoned myself,” you point out between bites. “It won’t kill me, you know.”

“I’m not a licensed dietitian,” he informs you, clearly upset, “but the recommended caloric intake for a woman is approximately four thousand calories—”

“That’s wrong.” You are already halfway through the bowl. “It’s two.”

“Do you seriously want to get into a debate on something science-related right now?” You are genuinely scared by his expression; every word sounds oddly lethal, as if they themselves could kill you.

You swallow, standing your ground. “We can look it up, if you want,” you offer. “I know for a fact I’m… right…”

He has glared directly at you. It almost shuts you up.

You quietly eat the rest of the bowl. You set your spoon down with a gentle clatter, clearing your throat as you try to ignore the way he was staring at you as if he were trying to dissect you with his eyes. “Done.” You showed him the empty bowl.

“You genuinely see nothing wrong with your dietary choices?”

You shake your head, immediately regretting it. “I know it’s unhealthy, but not to the same degree you seem to think it is.”

“And you honestly believe that you only need to eat two thousand calories to be healthy?” His tone was softer now, likely in reaction to how quickly you had recoiled.

You nod hesitantly, ignoring the way your head pounds.

He pauses. “We’ll talk about that later,” he decides. “For now, I have to ask: why can’t you keep food down, exactly?”

You lean back, placing the bowl on the nightstand. You stay like that, closing your eyes. “I just keep seeing it,” you explain simply. “Hearing it, too; it’s kinda like tasting really bad and then having the aftertaste stuck on your tongue, but for memories. Or like doing something embarrassing and, every once and awhile, having something happen to remind you of it.”

“It? Oh.” As soon as he says the words out loud, he knows what you are referring to.

“Yup.” You pop the P. “I dunno if you knew, but it doesn’t splat.”

A heavy silence smothers you both, despite the sounds of the city.

You feel the bed shift. Your eyes glance over at the man lying next to you, hands folded across his stomach as he stares at the ceiling.

“I honestly don’t know what to say.” He sighs. "I wish I knew how to do right by you.”

“You don’t have to—”

He cuts you off. “I want to, though.” He rubs his face with his hand. “I want to be able to invent something that makes things easier for you, to keep you from getting hurt.”

“Dude, it’s fine.” You punch his arm lightly. “I’ll be fine, eventually. Just not right now.” You smile weakly. “But, hey? At least my dreams have a bit of variety, right?”

“Dreams?”

You chuckle tightly. “It turns out my head is rather creative when it comes to ways the body can bend. I almost wish I had seen the bodies; then they could all be consistent.”

He groans. “See, it’s stuff like that that makes me feel bad about not being able—not that it’s your fault,” he back peddles. “I just—”

“Stop stressing so much,” you cut him off. “That’s my job. Don’t put yourself into a tizzy on my account.”

“How could I not?” He threw his hands up in the air. “I care about you, Y/N. I’m obviously going to care if you’re alright.”

You pause. “My mental stability should be the least of your concerns right now, what with Shredder and all.” You close your eyes. “The only reason he hasn’t beaten you and your brothers within an inch of your lives is that I knew where he’d be when. All things considered,” you roll over to face him, “my having bad nightmares is a small price to pay.”

Another silence.

You sigh. “You should probably get going.” You pull yourself onto your elbows, leaning forward onto your knees. “I gotta stake out Shredder’s lair tomorrow so you guys know when to come in.”

He sits up next to you. “Y/N, I—”

“You should stop worrying so much, alright?” You smile gently. “I have some sleep meds if your dad needs them.”

He opens his mouth to say something, pauses, closes it again. “Alright.” He stands up. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”

“You didn’t.” He didn’t.

He stops in his tracks.

You rest your head on your legs. “Yeah?”

“Will we see you tomorrow?”

You purse your lips. “I don’t know,” you admit. “I’ll definitely call you, though; it’ll be something of a feat to hijack a hijacked chemical truck.”

He looks back at you. “Please, be safe.”

You nod.

“Eat, too.”

You nod again.

“And drink?”

You roll your eyes teasingly. “Yeah, Dad, I’ll eat.”

His face flushes again. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You got it, buddy.”

You look so small.

‘I did that.’

He climbs onto the windowsill, hesitating to leave. “Goodnight.”

You wave lazily. “Goodnight, Donatello.”

He climbs out of your apartment.

You wait a minute or two before you close and lock your window. You pull the curtains shut properly behind him, walking back to the kitchen to put the food away.

You sigh, doleful. “Sorry.”

You were maybe thirteen years old. It feels like longer, but you were most certainly in middle school

Driving home after school one day, you had stared out the window, the radio playing something you half paid attention to. You don’t remember, now, what prompted the conversation—you figure it was some sort of assembly you had mentioned—but, somehow, the question of what to do if you were tied up in the back of someone’s car had been brought up. This was not an unusual line of conversation, considering your family’s conviction that you would be kidnapped someday, but you remember it specifically because, after he brought it up, you had run the scenario over in your head what felt like a thousand times.

“It depends on where you are in the car,” he had said. “If you’re in the back seat, you have to reach forward and try to choke the driver out, if you can’t get the doors open.”

“And if I’m in the front?”

“Ram your body against his. Get a hold of the wheel and swerve the car.

The line of thinking had confused you. “But,” you countered, “then the car would crash; we would both get hurt.”

“You have a better chance of surviving a car crash than whatever would happen to you once you get to wherever you’re going.”

You two had not spoken for the rest of the drive.

Now, you stare ahead at the road, eyes occasionally glancing at the man in the driver’s seat as you try to come up with a plan. You wish, now, that you had gone with your initial instinct to call instead of sending Leonardo a text message; who knows when he will get it?

“I feel almost sorry for you,” the man sneers. “You would be better off getting killed in the explosion than what’s going to happen to you.”

You say nothing.

“Hey?” He barks out a laugh. “You’ll get to see what happens to them.” He sighs happily. “I can see it now. The smoke, the fire, the smell.”

You eye the door. ‘Locked. Shit.’

“Those freaks won’t know what hit them.” He leans forward, staring at the truck in front of them. “Shouldn’t have messed with us if they didn’t want to meet their maker.”

‘Could I even survive it?’

“You know somethin’, kid?” He grips the wheel tighter. “I gotta give ya some respect; not a ton of kids would’ve come this far. Personally,” he shrugs, “I would’ve killed you right then, but Shredder wants more out of ya, apparently.”

‘Would he?’ You shift your feet to your right.

“I’ll thank you for one thing, though; I was getting sick of that pompous asshole.”

‘I just gotta get his hands away from the wheel. There are people in the back of this van. They’d survive, right?’ You fight to keep your breathing steady.

“For someone who hangs with those freaks, you ain't slick, hangin on the street corner.”

‘They’re ninjas. I gotta believe they’d be fine.’ You shut your eyes, stealing yourself.

“How you got Bradford is be—hey!”

You slammed your torso against him, eyes squeezed shut.

“What are you, fucking suicidal?” He yelled, trying to push you off.

You pull away, slamming one foot against his cheek and stuck the other into the wheel. You hear honking as you desperately bang your foot into what you pray is his body. You feel the car speed up as he screams obscenities at you. You force the wheel away from you as hard as you can.

The next few moments are a blizzard of broken glass, voices, and blackness as the metal deathtrap tries to shake the life out of both of you.

You figure that you must have passed out a second, for the next thing you remember is the smell of gasoline.

Your eyes snap open. You look over at the man stuck half out the window. You reach back, trembling hands fumbling with the buckle strapping yourself in. You slam yourself against the front window as you hear it click open. You use your arms to pull yourself through the hole, the rope slicing against a stray piece of broken glass.

Your head is spinning. The only thought currently on your mind is to get away from the car.

For some reason, you find yourself unable to stand. You, instead, crawl, dragging your body desperately away from the wreckage. You do not feel yourself doing it, ignoring the glass shards sticking themselves into your palms and under your nails, the way they slashed into your stomach and sides as you drag yourself over them completely irrelevant as you claw towards the sidewalk.

You hear the explosion.

You pull yourself into an alley, waiting for the ringing in your ears to stop as you hear the conflict happening a few blocks down. You swallow your vomit as you stare forward blankly, the smell of smoke filling your nostrils.

Another.

You fall forward, tears filling your eyes as the pain settles in. You do not know what happened to your legs, only knowing for sure that they could not and would not support your weight. Every muscle and every tendon is vibrating. Your hair sticks to your body as your clothes soak in some sort of warm liquid.

You do not like that smell.

‘Why is everything spinning?’

You hear yelling, the screeching of wheels against asphalt.

‘I’m going to die.’

The sentence repeats in your head over and over again as you lay there in the alleyway.

‘I’m going to die here.’

You do not know why you are shaking right now.

‘I don’t want to die here. Not now.’

“Help,” you beg. “Please, God.” You feel a sob rise in your throat. “I don’t… wanna…”

You hear screaming.

“Help,” you breathe.

You black out.

Table of Contents

Chapter 7

Chapter 9

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tomboyneedshercoffee · 5 years

Text

Falling for You || Ricky Bowen x Reader

Summary: Putting up Christmas lights with your best friend leads to something more.

Word Count: 788

Authors Note: Ya girl got Disney+ so I was like cool lets check out HSMTMTS and like any sane person, I fell in love with Ricky Bowen so here ya go! First thing that I’ve written that isn’t maze runner or newsies so lets see how it goes!

Warning: CLICHES!!

There are many controversial issues that are brought up in this climate but arguably the one that you were the most passionate about was how soon Christmas decorations should be put up.

Should it be before Thanksgiving so you can enjoy the festive lights while chowing down on dry turkey or once December actually rolls around so Thanksgiving can finally get some spotlight? You, however, believed that the day after Black Friday was the most crucial time to decorate for Christmas because ornaments and Christmas lights were cheaper.

By this time in Utah, the temperatures seemed well past freezing so it was really hard to put up decorations without help. Luckily, you had some assistance.

“ Ricky! Hold the ladder still I can feel my feet slipping,” You whined as you held onto the rain gutter for support.

“ Sorry! Maybe we should switch, your parents will kill me if you end up in the emergency room like last year,” He said as his grip on the ladder tightened,” the snow is getting worse by the minute. I can’t even feel my face anymore.”

You stopped hanging up lights for a second to look down at Ricky, his nose and cheeks were a warm rosy color and little snowflakes covered his brown curls. When you realized that you had been staring at him too long, you turned your attention back to the task at hand.

Your relationship with Ricky was confusing to say the least. You two were really close until he started dating Nini so for most of sophomore year, you were on your own. It wasn’t until school started back up again that you two became closer, probably since his time wasn’t focused so much on a girl.

When you thought things couldn’t get weirder, you realized that his laugh was endearing and not annoying and whenever he would smile, you found yourself wanting him to smile again. You were a woman of science and while you knew that love is just a chemical reaction, you knew well enough that you were falling for your best friend.

“ Your face is perfectly fine,” You said under your breath as you continued hanging the lights,” what a cute moron.”

Ricky smiled to himself, not knowing if he should’ve heard that or not. Ricky questioned a few times if you did like him, he knew you like the back of his hand yet lately, you had been acting so different. You two used to hug and playfully hold hands but lately, it was like you were avoiding it. Ricky, however, knew his feelings well.

“ Yes! I think I did it,” You raised both of your hands up haphazardly in triumph, not realizing that you had messed up your own balance.

The ladder fell backward and you found yourself falling midair, trying to grab onto anything.

Ricky snapped himself out of a daze and positioned his arms out to catch you but you were falling too fast. While you technically landed in his arms, the momentum sent the two of you falling back into the powdery snow.

You both grunted as soon as you hit the ground, both of your heads knocking into each other. Your eyes were still closed in pain but a dumb part of you thought that maybe if you didn’t open your eyes, then he couldn’t see you blushing hard.

After recovering for a second, Ricky instinctively used one hand to hold onto your waist and the other went straight to cup your cheek,” A-Are you okay? Anything broken?”

You kept your eyes shut and simply shook your head which prompted more concern from Ricky.

“ You don’t seem okay, just open your eyes Y/N,” He said, his voice filled with worry.

You hesitantly opened your eyes and even Ricky let out a soft gasp when he realized how close the two of you were. Your faces were mere centimeters away from each other and now it was Ricky’s turn to blush.

Ricky didn’t know if it was because of his mild concussion or his heart banging against his chest but without thinking, Ricky sighed softly,” Guess you really fell for me huh? Lucky me.”

You could literally feel his heart beating as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You couldn’t think of anything to say so instead of blabbering on and making an awkward fool of yourself, you leaned into Ricky and kissed him. Ricky raised his eyebrows in surprise but immediately melted in your touch, softly kissing you back.

You were the first to pull away and instead of seeing a face of rejection, you saw his dorky face plastered in a big goofy smile,” Yep. I’m definitely lucky.”

#hsmtmts #hsmtmts ricky #ricky bowen #ricky bowen x reader #ricky x reader #hsmtmts x reader #ricky imagine #ricky bowen imagine #high school musical the musical the series #hsmtmts ricky bowen #joshua bassett #joshua bassett x reader #joshua bassett imagine #joshua bassett hsmtmts

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evolsinner · 3 years

Text

⊱┊31

morning arrives. after getting dressed, i stand in front of the full~length mirror that’s stuck to the back of my bedroom door. my ring shines in the reflection and i aimlessly roll it around my finger.

i've made up my mind, this is what i'm going to do: i've already told kayrem about the baby so that's off my conscience. if i let isaac know how uncomfortable i am with keeping it, he'll be sure to support me on whatever my decision may be. besides, he doesn't even have to know about how it came to be so yeah.

"mum," i take the final step down from the staircase. "hi, i was going to~"

"take a seat," she gestures to the chair next to maxi, my usual spot.

all of them try to not stare at me, though i can see how hard it is for them to keep their eyes cast down. maxi's the only one that's not making me feel like an animal in a cage. he's too busy passionately eating his porridge.

"roséah," mum says when i've finally settled down, "your father might've touched on it briefly, but we would like to say it officially."

okay?

"honey, only if you spoke to us about how much pressure we've been putting on you lately then we would've understood," she explains.

"but~"

"let me finish," she shuts me down. "ever since kayrem left, we vowed to better ourselves in the parenting department purely to ensure something like that would never happen to another one of our children again. we know now," she glances at dad, "that we've failed."

kayrem was right, when he left all those years ago, it was cause he wanted mum and dad to be better for me. i mixed up a sacrifice with selfishness. that’s on me, i guess.

"and for that, we are both deeply sorry," dad summarises.

“you’ve got to talk to us,” mum emphasises. “but teenagers barely ever do,” she adds bitterly.

"thank you for understanding, i guess.”

"with that being said," mum exhales loudly, a sudden deviation in her tone, "there's something you should know because as parents we're obligated to tell you."

kayrem clears his throat.

"you should know that.." she pauses before starting again. "isaac killian was a convicted criminal."

"what?"

"it's true, hun," dad solidifies.

"are you guys crazy or what?"

kayrem scoffs.

"we're not 'crazy', rosé," dad tells me. “we care about your safety.”

"you both may be lawyers and you both may be my parents, but that doesn't mean you go around falsifying shit just to have things your way!"

"listen to them, marie," kayrem chips in.

"shut up, you moron!"

maxi jumps in fright.

“hey, maxi,” i say softly. “why not you go upstairs and feed homie his breakfast? he must be really hungry.”

maxi gives me a quick hug and silently leaves.

i return my attention back to my parents, “you seriously have to do this in front of him?”

"all charges have been dropped against him because, well, look at his assets," mum speaks in a passive~aggressive tone. "however, you can find anything if you dig deep enough."

this is total bs and i'm not having any of it!

"if he did it once, he can most definitely do it again," she continues. "i'm only telling you this, roséah, because you're not as smart as you think you are. and as parents, it's our job~"

"oh my god, mum, just shut up with that 'as parents' shit! i get it!"

"do not talk to me in that tone, young lady!"

"alright, alright," dad puts his hands up. "ladies, let us keep this civilised, shall we? rosé," he faces me determinedly, "think about it this way: is this the first time isaac killian has lied to you?"

no... hélène, too.

"and let's not forget how it was not an accident, it was deliberate!" mum adds in for extra shock value.

"this is all bullshit!" i stand up, my chair scraping against the ground. "you're the ones who are lying to me!"

mum firmly pushes her seat back and stands up. she walks over to her tote sitting on the countertop and returns with a manila folder which she tosses flat on the table in front of me. "read it," she demands. "legal documents don't just make themselves up!"

"so mama i'm in love with a criminal! so fucking what?"

"don't be ridiculous, roséah!"

"fuck this. i'm out!" and i run out of the house.

kayrem follows me out, "marie, slow down or you'll get yourself hit by a car!"

i spin around, stopping in the middle of the road, "i sure hope so!"

"look, this isn't even about you or me or our parents even! it's about him! do you really think a sane person goes around killing families on purpose? no, because that'll make them insane! but of course, risk everything for the sake of some airy~fairy love, right? seems perfectly reasonable to me."

"he isn't a goddamn killer!"

"you're just afraid to face the truth. it's as simple as that."

"oh yeah? and is this the 'truth' you, mum and dad are making it out to be? all you guys ever care about is the shit that gets written down in the papers, about your dumb reputations! not at all about the root problem, and the root problem being that you should've never left us in the first place! scratch that. you should've never came back!"

there’s a sudden long pause and he glares at me through it every second of it, "you are just one dumb fucking fat bitch, marie.”

“wow! got more to say? go ahead, say it. i wanna hear it.”

“yeah, i’ve got some more,” he takes a few steps closer to me. “you don’t deserve to be loved. why? because you play with people’s feelings. you want something and you get it. and when you want more, you get more. doesn’t matter who you fucking hurt in the process because, hey, at least it’s not your own damn self, right? you’re selfish! a goddamn worthless slut! i’m ashamed to even call you my sister.”

his words didn’t hurt me that much, not until he said that last line... that cut deep. “and here i thought you cared about me.”

he laughs, “care about you? i would never.”

“really?” with each sentence, i take a step closer to him. “are you sure about that? because last time i checked, you’re the one who kissed me first. you’re the one who wanted to kiss me again when i clearly said it wasn’t a good idea.”

“lower your damn voice!” kayrem says through his teeth.

“you’re the one who ate, my, pussy.”

“marie, are you deaf?! mother and father are right fucking there!” he points to the house furiously.

“you’re the one who wanted me to suck your dick! so, no, don’t go around saying that you don’t give a shit about me when it’s pretty damn obvious that you d~”

whiplash, i’ve been pulled in and a pair of lips are attacking my mouth. i don’t put up much of a fight. my brother wraps his arms around me. mmm… the kiss deepens quickly and it’s like we’re taking out our frustrations about each other on each other.

“fuck off!” i break the kiss and push him away.

he scoffs and roughly grips my wrist. then instead of dragging me back to the house like i expect him to, he drags me to dad's car. "let's go and find that idiot and let him tell you himself," he opens the front seat door and waits for me to get in.

i stand my ground.

“get inside now or i’ll fucking throw you inside,” he orders.

with a scowl, i obey and kayrem grabs my seatbelt, roughly clicking it in for me before slamming the door shut after me. it thuds loudly and pieces of my fringe go flying up in the air. i’m left in awful silence whilst he runs back into the house to get the keys. he comes back and starts the engine, not even bothering to put his own seatbelt, and roughly reverses out.

gosh.

#love #teacher x student #story

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supergirl-fanfiction · 4 years

Text

Unable To Save You

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Natasha had always tried to keep you safe. You weren't an avenger or an agent. You were just a normal civilian who had managed to capture her heart. You knew about her past but it didn't scare you away. She knew she would do anything to keep you safe but it hadn't been enough. You had been captured by someone wanting revenge on her.

(Y/N)- Your Name

Warnings- Angst, Torture, Mentions of Blood, Death

A/N- So this obviously isn't supergirl but hopefully y'all still enjoy it.

P.S- I broke my heart and may have cried when writing this.

It had started out like every other day. You woke up in bed with your fiancee Natasha. She had her arms wrapped around your waist holding you as close to her as possible. You smiled as she placed a kiss on your forehead.

"Good morning beautiful." She said. You giggled softly and buried your face in her neck as you blushed.

"Good morning." You mumbled. You wanted to stay in bed with her instead of getting ready for work but sadly that just wasn't an option. As you began to get to try and get out of Natashas arms she just held onto you tighter. You laughed softly.

"Nat, baby I need to get ready for work."

"How about you stay home today. We can cuddle, order takeout, and watch whatever movie you want to." You frowned as you looked up at Nat. You could tell something was wrong. You heard the slight tremor in her voice that she had tried to hide.

"Is everything okay?" You received no response from her to your question. "Nat. Whats going on?"

"I just have a bad feeling. It's probably nothing but I would rather you stay home with me just in case." You sighed as you placed a kiss on her cheek. You slowly began to remove her arms from around you.

"I need to go into work today babe. I can't call out last second. I'll be careful though ok. You can even drop me off, bring me lunch, and pick me up if that makes you feel better." You told her as you began to get out of bed. Natasha knew that she wasn't going to win She knew that you wouldn't call out of work but the feeling in her gut was only getting worse. She had a feeling that something bad was going to happen and she just couldn't lose you. You kept her sane. She didn't know what she would do without you. She sighed and got out of bed, getting ready with you. She was definitely going to be dropping you off and picking you up.

"Alright, but I want you to text me every hour alright. Just so I know that you are safe and to help ease my mind." Nat told you. You nodded as you gave her a soft chaste kiss.

"Okay. I will text you every hour if that will help you feel better." The both of you finished getting ready and she dropped you off at work. On the way home the feeling in her gut just got worse. She felt like she was going to throw up. She had only been home for a couple hours when the feeling became so bad she became sick. She needed to be with you right now to keep you safe and protect you. She grabbed her phone and quickly pulled up your contact and calling you. You didn't answer. It was almost time for you to check in with her. She tried to calm herself down enough to wait for your text came in saying that you were okay. It never came. The feeling in her stomach got worse. She grabbed the keys to her motorcycle before taking off. She was driving way above the speed limit and weaving in and out of traffic. She needed to get to you now. She needed to see you with her own eyes to make sure you were unharmed. She managed to cut a 45 minute drive into 15 minutes with her frantic and reckless driving. Just as she got off her motorcycle and getting ready to run up to your floor she received a text from you. It was a picture. She opened it quickly and her stomach dropped at what she saw. You were tied to a chair and you barely even looked alive. It was clear that one of your legs were broke. You were bleeding from your head from a wound she was unable to see. You had a black eye, busted lip, and cuts every where. A text came in quickly after the picture.

You should've never meddled in our business Black Widow. Now your loved one is the one paying the price.

She felt anger and fear began to flood her system. She needed to find you and she needed to find you now She couldn't think about what would happen if she wasn't able to. She quickly took off for the tower. She needed everyone's help. She couldn't do this by herself and risk you ending up being harmed even more than you already were.

Meanwhile you were just hoping you would be able to see Natasha one more time before you died. You knew you weren't going to make it out of this alive. Your body had been put through too much. You had water dumped on you before being electrocuted, they carved into your skin with whatever sharp objects they had, they had broken your right leg and you were sure other bones of yours were broken. You could also feel blood dripping down your face from the wound in your head from having them slam you into a wall. You had no idea how much time had passed at this point. It could have been minutes, hours, weeks, hell it might have even been months. You were being given a brief break from the torture at the moment as the men began to talk to each other in what you believe was Russian. You weren't completely sure though. Soon their talk came to an end and they turned back to you with twisted smirks on their face. You knew that the torture was about to begin again and you tried not to let the fear show on your face. Before they were able to do anything though the door busted open. You could make out some of the Avengers and your fiancee. A small smile appeared on your face. They had found you and you would be able to see Natasha one more time before you left earth. The men were no competition for Tony, Wanda, Steve, and Natasha. The fight was over before it really began and then Natasha was running over to you with tears in her eyes. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. There was so much blood that she couldn't even figure out where it was all coming from. She quickly untied you and picked you up as gently as she could. It still caused you to scream out in pain and the tears began to fall down Natashas face.

"I'm so sorry baby. I'm so sorry. Just hold on okay. You are going to be ok and then I'm never letting you leave my sight again ok." You could hear the panic and pain in her voice. She was trying to convince herself as well as you.

"Nat. I lo..love yo...you." Your voice came out hoarse and you began coughing causing the pain to worsen. You could taste something metallic in your mouth and you knew that it was blood.

"Please (Y/N). Please. I need you. Please I can't lose you. You are everything to me. You are my world." She got out through her sobs. It was breaking your heart to see her in so much pain. You could see the others looking at you with tears in their eyes. They knew that there was nothing they could do to help you.

"Na...Nat. Bab....Baby. I'm not," You were interrupted by another coughing fit causing blood to flow out of your mouth.

"Please, please, please." Was all that Natasha managed to say. She could see the light in your eyes beginning to fade. You used the last bit of energy to lean up and press a kiss to her lips.

"I love you Nat. Alw..always. Do...dont blame your...yourself. Never forget I'm always wi...wi...with you." was the last thing you managed to get out before the light faded from your eyes completely and your heartbeat stopped.

"NO! NO! (Y/N)! PLEASE PLEASE. YOU CANT LEAVE ME! PLEASE!" Natasha screamed. She fell to her knees holding your body in her arms. She would never forgive herself. She should have tried harder to get you to stay home with her. She should have protected you better. She would never recover from the scars that your death left on her heart. After that day she became even more closed off. She refused to talk to anyone. No one was allowed to even mention your name. It caused her to snap. They learned that the hard way when an Agent had made a comment about how tragic your death was but that it was your fault for getting involved with an Avenger. She put the Agent in the hospital and he would no longer be able to work in the field from the injuries he had sustained. She told everyone that if they ever mentioned your name again she would kill them. She refused to work on missions with anyone. Fury had wanted to dismiss her but decided that he wouldn't want to make an enemy out of her. She was deadlier than before and he wasn't sure if anyone, including the Avengers, would be able to take her down. So he sent her on missions that were for a single individual. She completed every single one perfectly. Afterwards though she would go back to the house the two of you shared and would just sit in the dark thinking about all the ways she had failed you.

#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #marvel universe #marvel imagine #x reader #x reader fanfiction #x reader imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #scarlett johansson

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amelink66world · 4 years

Text

Love of my Life

Hey guys!! This is the third chapter of my series. Ypu can read it on wattpad too! Enjoy 💞😉

Pheromones

Amelia's PoV:

I have to give Link some credit. He really knows what he's doing in the bedroom. I can safely say that he's the best I've ever had. But he can't know that. Male ego, you know. As far as I've come to know him, he'll start floating ;) Even Owen wasn't ever able to bring about that kind of a reaction from me even after the many years we were together which Link was able to do in just a SINGLE NIGHT !!

I have to say I'm quite surprised.

The amazing sex helped my mood quite a lot. All of the sadness and despair just vanished in thin air with his touch. So far I've been able to successfully avoid him. It's been two days since the conference in San Diego and still I just cannot take him off my mind. I've just seen him around the hospital once or twice. I actively run away whenever I see him. I just dash in the opposite direction. I make sure he doesn't see me. Just one look in his direction brings back all the memories of that night. I just know it in my soul that my self resolve will break and I will jump his bones as soon as I see his muscular arms, his full lips which seem to draw me in unintentionally, his soft eyes, his ton...STOP!! UGGHH!! I'll kill him. I can't even think straight. Ufff.

Maggie has recently introduced three rooms in the hospital as part of her research. I personally like the Blue and Green rooms more. They seem to have a calming effect on me, the green one more than the blue one but it's fine.

Link's PoV:

I've never experienced this feeling before. Not to brag but I'm accustomed with women throwing themselves at me and not the other way around. This woman has been haunting my dreams since the moment I laid eyes on her. I find my eyes searching for her even though she's not in the room. It's been two days since I've seen her. I really think she's avoiding me. I've caught glimpses of her in the hospital but as soon as I reach there, phuushh she's vanished. Ughh. I know she said it'll be a ' one- time thing ' but I just don't want to lose a friend like her. Maybe hopefully in the future things might be different but at least now just being her friend will be enough.

When I heard that Dr. Pierce has introduced three 'mood rooms' , I have to say my interest was piqued. I decide to check those rooms out. Maybe I'll even find her sister in the process, you never know right? ;)

Currently, Maggie and Amelia are sitting in the Blue Room finally having a much needed 'Sister Moment'. Maggie is telling Amelia how the Blue Room works. She wants Amelia to feel better as she knows how she had been recently. If only she could strangle that ginger man and the mother of his child for time and again hurting her beloved sister. Her whole life she had been a single child and now that she has been gifted with two amzaing sisters, she finally understood that she had needed them all along and can't help but feel fiercely protective towards them. No one can hurt them on her watch, she'll make sure of that. She loved them too much to see them hurt.

So here they are in the Blue Room, Maggie trying to uplift Amelia's mood that had been somber for a few days. If only she knew about the conference....

The room has definitely made Amelia curious. She wants to know what this room does. While languidly spinning in her chair, Amelia asks, " Sooo, blue light lowers blood pressure? "

"Significantly. And some studies even suggest that it could even improve your mood." Maggie wants to help Amelia in any way she possibly can and adds, "Well I'm not saying that it's a cure all or anything but you might wanna spend some time...", she trails off after turning her and noticing that she most definitely has lost her audience. Amelia is in her own world lazily spinning in her chair thinking God knows about what. Maggie is surprised to see Amelia in such a good mood after all the Love Triangle fiasco.

She curiously asks Amelia when she sees that she has yet not gained her attention, " Okay the room doesn't work thaaatt fast. I deserve an award if it did but...what's going on? " she smiles looking at her happy expression.

"Nothing" is her only reply. Since when did AMELIA of all people become a woman of a few words? Huh, astonishing.

Maggie probes further, " Nothing?? I can't believe it 'cause the last time I saw you there was a fair amount of crying and absolutely zero chair spinning. So spill, sister."

Finally getting her to answer, " Fine. I might have had some insanely good sex at the conference in San Diego " she says while stretching lazily.

Shock is written all over Maggie's face. How can her sister have sex with a stranger at a complete unknown place? She sometimes just cannot believe Amelia. Many a times Amelia's antics force Maggie to question Tom Koracick's surgical skills. Did that arrogant man leave a part of her tumor behind in her sometimes highly illogical brain? Guess she'll never know.

Chuckling nervously she asks, " Wait, WHAT? You had insane sex with a complete stranger in San Diego? I knew you should not be left alone. I definitely should've gone with you!! Ugghh "

" Hey!! That's mean." Amelia laughs. " By the way, it was not insane sex, it was insanely good sex. And not with a complete stranger. It helped my mood a lot more than your precious Blue Rooom" she sings trying to get under Maggie's skin.

" Oooh, so like a rebound !! "

" More like muscle-bound ", both laugh.

Link's PoV:

I just checked out The Game Room, I realised it can be useful for my patients who have trouble doing PT. Games are a form of PT only. I have to keep that in mind. The Plant Room was actually soothing. I really liked it. Only the Blue Room is left now. I step towards the room when all of a sudden I hear giggling inside the room. I immediately recognize the voice. Amelia!! Finally I found her. I enter the room with a grin on my face, " Knock knock..."

Meanwhile in the Blue Room:

The door suddenly opens to reveal none other than Link, " Knock knock...", he says with a goofy grin on his face. Ugh that mouth!! Ehhhh. What do I do now? I can't even run away! Thank God there's Maggie here.

Link's grin is replaced with a nervous smile as soon as he spots Maggie sitting on the other chair.

" Oh hey. Dr. Pierce!! ". He's just standing there like a dumb person nervously looking between the two when he suddenly recalls Dr. Pierce's email. Now there's a topic.

" Dr. Pierce I took a look at your sternal reconstruction thing and emailed you some thoughts.", all the while avoiding eye contact with Amelia because he knows as soon as he'll look into her eyes, his smile will give away their secret.

" Sorry it took me so long. I was at a conference in San Diego.", Link says, subtly glancing at Amelia's way.

Amelia's eyes widened at his slip up and she jerks her head towards Maggie. " Oooh ", is her reply. Amelia can practically see the dots connecting in Maggie's head. Her back straightens and she moves towards Link quietly scrutinizing him, silently letting him know that she's aware of their shenanigans. Maggie then looks at Amelia with humor and playfulness in her eyes and then looks at Link.

Link gets extremely uncomfortable under Maggie's scrutiny. He chances looking at Amelia to see her reaction but her head his down in embarrassment and she is trying her best to avoid eye contact with either of them. Oh shit Maggie knows!! Link then goes on to ramble, " Umm, nice room...very blue. Uhhh it's very cool", chuckling humorlessly. He quickly acknowledges Amelia's presence in the room, nodding in her direction, " Dr. Shepherd " and leaves hurriedly.

Oh my God that was awkward.

Maggie swiftly turns towards Amelia judging her slightly, " OH MY GOD!! "

Amelia tries to redeem herself by justifying her actions, " It was a one-time thing!! That is it. I just needed some pain management." Amelia then nervously rambles to escape Maggie's questions, "Does this room change colours? Does it do pink? "

Maggie just looks at her smugly, " Didn't I ask you to totally hit that Ortho God in the beginning? Okay so now you realise I was right all along? Heh? Ohh, this is so great. And to answer your question, no it doesn't do pink", she laughs with mirth.

"Oh shut up Maggie. I have a surgery. Bye ". She quickly leaves to avoid Maggie's further questioning and the look of smugness on her face. Yeah yeah yeah she was right. But I can't just say it to her face. She won't let me see the end of the day with her boasting then. I'll just kill Link. It's all HIS fault!! Why did he tell Maggie he was in San Diego? Where is that gorgeous, no wait, scratch that, stupid man?

Maggie can't contain her joy. She is exultant. I have to tell Meredith! I just don't understand why these two stupid sisters of mine don't acknowledge the fact that I'm the smartest and the most intelligent of them all? On top of that, I'm always right. Heh heh heh. Look in Amelia's case, I just knew Link is right for her. I guess I'm the most sane sister in The Sister Lafy Chiefs or The Lady Chief Trifecta...whatever it is that Amelia likes to call it. With a smug look on her face she leaves to search for Jackson.

Amelia gets paged in the pit. She bumps into Link on her way and corners him with accusations.

Link leans down slightly to hear her better as she is whispering and her body is too small and petite in comparison to his tall, muscular figure. He is smiling at her when she says, " I thought we agreed we weren't gonna tell people? "

" Yeah we did" , he looks at her quizzically.

" Why did you tell Maggie you were in San Diego? " Is she blaming me? He can't help but smile at her restlessness.

" Cause I was. At a conference ", he slightly raises his eyebrows.

" Yeah but I told her I had sex at a conference. She obviously connected the dots! "

" No no no, wait. Hold up. So you told her about the sex but I'm in trouble for mentioning the location?!", he teases her. Amelia realizes how unreasonable and ridiculous she sounds.

That teasing gleam in his eye is distracting her. She starts walking away and says, " Okay. Can I just reiterate that it was a one-time thing. It was..."

" Pain management like you said ", he says in a sing-song voice, completing for her.

" There's more to it. For acute pain, not a chronic. One dose. Do not refill ". She stops. Wait. That sounded really really wrong. " Ew. Sorry ".

Link laughs at the unintentional innuendo. That woman is too damn funny sometimes.

She again quickly walks further away from him. He follows her. " I think to be safe, we need to steer clear of each other for a while."

Link panics. How much longer does she want to avoid me? Why? " You have already managed to successfully avoid me for 2 days. Did that help? "

He asks incredulously, " You really think that's necessary? "

" I do. Because...", she trails off and turns towards him. Her eyes slightly glaze over and she stares at his muscular arms and sturdy chest, her mind obviously in the gutter while saying, "...pheromones"

Her answer somewhat shocks Link but he obviously notices Amelia staring at his chest whilst speaking. He then decides to mess with her a little and steps closer to her, " What about them? ", he says with a teasing grin.

She takes a while to answer, still looking at him.

" I really like yours " , she says straightforwardly. Ooh I like women who know what they like.

" Okay then. I'll avoid you completely ", he whispers seductively. Amelia stares at him a second longer, nods and then turns around sharply. She thinks, I have successfully managed to embarrass myself twice in less than 15 minutes. What is the matter with me today?!

" You paged? ", both simultaneously question Richard entering Trauma Room 2. Both of them look at each with surprise. Link has a very happy and teasing grin on his face. Amelia is a different story. She just wants to run away from there. How will I survive this day around him? I know I'll jump his bones before this day ends if he keeps looking at me like that!! She has a shocked expression on her face.

Both of them now put their game faces on and examine the patient. But the whole while Amelia keeps bumping into Link. Is he doing this purposely? He just knows I cannot resist. Ughh I don't like him at all!

Link is just having a blast. He finally came to a conclusion that the patient needed and MRI stat.

He informed the orderlies, " I'd like to take her for an MRI". He realised that he was not the only one saying this sentence. He turned towards her to realise that she had said the exact same words as him at the exact sa.e time. He smiled at her in a flirting way and she got extremely flustered and turned her head away softly whispering. " Oh God ". Thi bwas going to be an interesting case.

In the Scan Room:

They are waiting for the scans to come up. Amelia is sitting on the chair with Link leaning on the wall behind her. Both of them are painfully aware of each other's presence but don't say anything. Link gets tired of the wait and rests his hand on the armrest of Amelia's chair. Amelia glances at his hand and sharply turns away her head recalling all the beautiful things his hands are capable of doing. She blushed fiercely and quickly whispered, " I have to get off this case."

Link obviously understood why Anelia said what she said and smirked. Before he could say anything, the scans were up. They were disastrous. The patient was at an increasing risk of paralysis if they didn't do anything soon. They agreed that the patient needed both of their surgical skills and put aside their feelings and teasing for a few hours.

In the OR :

It would be an understatement to say that Link was impressed by Amelia's surgical skills. She had precision, stable hands, perfection, calmness, confidence and she knew exactly what the patient needed. This made her even more attractive to him.

He complimented her surgical skill and engaged in light flirting with her. He noticed her obvious smile behind her surgical mask which reached her eyes making her eyes gleam in a very captivating way. For a second there, they got lost in each other's eyes and seemed to forget that there was a patient open on their table. They quickly recovered and the surgery was going really well.

Suddenly a nurse informed them that the patient just lost motor signals in all of her extremities. Both the surgeons looked at each other in panic, double-checking their work but they had yet to make any mistake. What had happened?! Did they do something wrong? But we were nowhere near those nerves!! In the end, the patient ended up quadriplegic.

Both of them were deeply disappointed and disheartened. They were continuously thinking what had gone wrong there? Both came up with nothing. Amelia was more bothered by the surgery and was devastated. She quickly disappeared after updating the patient and her daughter about the outcome of the surgery. Link was worried for her. Where did she go? He was feeling oddly protective towards her and wanted to take away her pain. He wanted to comfort her and quickly found her in the only place he knew she'd be at the moment. The Blue Room.

He silently entered the room to find Amelia leaning on the wall dejectedly. He closed the door and leaned opposite to her, near the door. She noticed him and walked in his direction. Link saw her sad expression and wanted to wipe that expression off her face. When she came face-to-face with him, he clasped her hands in his and held on to them tightly. Amelia freed her left hand from his grasp and locked the door quickly. She then held his hand tighter and started leaning towards his lips.

He quickly understood what she needed. He could really use some pain management himself. When their lips finally touched, the failure of today quickly relieved their body and the whole world seemed to just vanish until there were only the two of them holding each other. The kiss soon became heated and Link let go of her hands to wrap his arms tightly around her slim waist. He swiftly glided his hands up her back, one rested just above her hip and the other just below her shoulders eliciting a long moan from her.

She quickly wrapped one hand around his neck to deepen the kiss and the other hand held onto his arm for dear life. Her knees grew wobbly. Link pressed her body to his until there was no space left. Amelia could not even describe this exhilarating feeling. He changed their positions so that she was now pinned to the door by his sturdy chest. They continued kissing desperately. She slowly started backing him towards one of the chairs until he was sitting. He pulled her to him, deeply aroused, until she straddled his lap. The were sitting chest to chest vigorously kissing in the Blue Room taking away each other's pain. They stayed there taking away each other's pain until there was no hurt left and laid there in each other's arms in peaceful silence for the long night.

Author's Note:

Sooo how was it?? I was just too excited having started my first story that I just couldn't stop!! I just wish that these scenes could be included in the show. Anyway, please don't forget to comment your thoughts !! Until then.

#amelia shepherd #atticus lincoln #amelia and link #amelia-shepherd-fanfic #greys antony #amelink

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