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yannasunflower · 3 years

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dust to dust | chapter two

chapter one | chapter two

ao3

You don't know what makes you save Kuroo Tetsurou's life. All you know is there is no world to save anymore, but damn if you're just stupid enough to try.

Genre: hurt/comfort/romance/angst Rating: Mature, subject to change (gore, violence) Kuroo x fem!Reader Word count: 3.5k

hey everyone! here's chapter two, as promised. this fic is also cross-posted to AO3, where i'm under the same username. linked above as well! next chapter, action picks up, plot picks up, and we get more Kuroo, promise. enjoy, and as always, please reblog, like, and comment <3

Nobody ever told you how absolutely boring a zombie apocalypse could be.

Your ragtag group of survivors have scavenged what entertainment they can - books and gym equipment, even a few board games. People like Suga and Takeda keep busy with the children, teaching them to read and garden and how to survive if mommy and daddy never come back for them.

You open one lazy eye as a gaggle of them stumble after Suga, hanging on to his every word.

You’re not sure how the two men handle placing a long knife in a child’s chubby hand, fingers barely able to grip it,and showing them how to strike right at a nighstalker’s heart, fast and deep. Their giggles float through the air and the sound is almost dreamlike and if you keep your eyes closed, you can pretend this is a movie and when you open them, the credits will roll and you can go home.

Others tend to the elderly, of which there are only three in your group. You try to keep them comfortable and as far from danger as possible. But your body constantly prickles with the knowledge that they aren’t just vulnerable - they are a vulnerability. A hole in the brick wall you are attempting to build around this little community.

The healthy and fit young people patrol and take rotations on the watchtowers. Teenagers help with the lessons. Takeda had been firm about this. Once a kid turned seventeen, they were allowed to join the patrols, but until then, they stayed sequestered away.

It was almost comical, telling a tall, strong, angry Tobio that he had to mind the children. He towers over you, but he had bent to your will after a brief glaring contest. And then a week later, Shoyo had bounded into everyone’s hearts, including his, and the pair were inseparable.

Kiyoko, for her part, had taken one look at Yachi, shivering at Hinata’s side, and adopted her, sweeping her under a protective wing and keeping her there.

For people like you, who have no “bedside manner” as Kiyoko puts it, there are chores and day to day mini emergencies to keep you busy. Somehow, in the months since the world finally decided to fall apart, you have become mediator and negotiator. It’s an unlikely role; you can see your mother’s arched brow if she was still alive to see you now.

You barely have the patience for grocery shopping.

She would have laughed, elbowing your father, who would have made a valiant attempt at a straight face.

These are useless memories but you allow yourself to indulge for a moment. You have nothing better to do. Lunch is cooking, inventory has been completed, the guard rotation is set for the next two weeks. Ukai had waved you off this morning when you finally managed to corner him, complaining about your ceaseless energy and the “mad glint” in your eye. His words.

“That look means trouble for me,” he had growled, pointing an accusing finger at you. “Go to your cell and get some sleep for the love of anything you find holy.” Without another word, the man had leaned against a wall, put his feet up on his desk, and closed his eyes. A clear dismissal. You tried not to huff but you definitely stomped a little bit on the way out.

You don’t know how to tell him that staying in your cell, with your eyes closed, is inviting the living nightmares. You don’t know how to tell anyone, really, that you are just as haunted as this prison, as Daichi’s eyes.

That the only holy thing left in this world is fear and if you succumb to that, you’ll never move again.

You let a sigh tumble out of you. Forcibly, you shove your thoughts in another direction.

It had been a week since you brought home your latest stray. Kuroo had spent the first three days doing little else but sleep and eat. Daichi has taken to walking him around the Pit every day, explaining the way things work, and Suga showed him his pride and joy just yesterday. Kuroo had been suitably impressed by the garden, if the generous second and third helpings Suga thought he was sneaking to him at dinnertime were anything to go by.

The man has filled out nicely. He looks less skeleton, more human after sleep and hot food. You had peeked in on him in the grey of dawn that morning after Daichi not-so-subtly hinted that Kuroo had been asking about you.

He sleeps curled up on his side, hair falling against his cheek. In another world, you would have taken a picture.

Kiyoko tells you that the men like him, that Tanaka has stopped regarding him with all the wariness of a stray cat, and that she’s pretty sure Yachi has a crush on him.

You open your eyes into a blazing afternoon, unsurprised to see the subject of your thoughts stretching in the courtyard, the weak sunlight rippling over his bare arms. His black hair is messy as ever and you are struck all over again by how tall he is.

Tobio got a new babysitter, you think with no small amount of amusement. The gangly teenager needs someone to keep him in line and frankly, you don’t have the time and Hinata is just as likely to suggest some stupid shit for them to get into as he is.

You are still stretched out like a cat on a bench, letting the sun warm you, half-hoping it will lull you into a nap.

It’s boredom, more than anything, that makes you turn your head toward Kuroo.

“If you’d like to get some exercise, we have equipment. I’m sure Noya can show you,” you call.

Kuroo jumps and swivels to look at you, eyes wide and so, so dark. You look away. Something about him is like staring at the sun; too long, and your eyes burn.

“Didn’t see you there,” he admits easily, sauntering over to your bench. You eye his approach, noting that he really must be feeling a lot better. His movements are more fluid now, lean muscles becoming apparent on his shoulders.

Daichi has blessed every woman, and a few men, in the Pit by finding Kuroo a pair of grey joggers and a muscle tank top for everyday wear.

“I don’t do well with sitting still,” he says, leaning over you. His head casts you in shadow, blotting out the sun. “This is something I think you can understand.”

Up close, you can see that the shadows beneath his eyes are retreating gradually. His smile looks less like a grimace today.

You hum, swinging your legs over the bench and sitting up. Blood rushes from your head and you lean back against your palms. Kuroo lowers himself to sit next to you.

“Daichi forces me to limit my rotations on the guard towers and patrols,” you answer. “When we first found this place and cleaned it out, I was working overtime and made myself sick. Him and Kiyoko have been conspirators against me ever since.”

Your fingers thrum against your thigh as you say this. You feel more than see Kuroo’s eyes on them.

“They love you,” he points out, a little unnecessarily.

You snort.

“Love is expensive nowadays and everyone in the Pit is broke.”

“You love them back even more.”

You glare at him but he is just looking at you, tracing the planes of your face. A frown tugs at your lips.

“How are you feeling?”

Kuroo rolls his shoulders experimentally, stretching his arms above his head.

“Better,” he affirms. “More like myself.”

“A nosy busybody who talks like a grandpa?”

“Exactly.”

He is grinning now and you have to fight to keep yourself from returning the expression.

The bruises on his face are yellow now. You estimate it will only take a couple more weeks of regular meals for his face to fill out and his skin to look youthful again. You don’t bother asking him how long he had been alone, what happened to his family. None of that matters now. The apocalypse is a great equalizer.

“I talked to Takeda and Kiyoko this morning,” you begin, leaning your head back and closing your eyes against the sun. “They agreed to give you another week before putting you on guard rotation.”

“I would appreciate that. I want to earn my keep, however I can.”

A ghost of a smile dances across your lips.

“You’re just bored,” you tease. It’s been a long time since you felt sleepy and loose enough to tease anyone.

“You say that now, but newbies get the shittiest schedule possible,” you warn him, unsure why you’re telling him this. “Be prepared. Once you’re back to top form, we’ll discuss sending you on patrols for medicine and expanding that garden of Suga’s.”

There’s silence but it’s comfortable, easy. You let yourself enjoy it for just a few moments before standing, opening your eyes and offering Kuroo a full smile and your hand.

As he shakes it, looking only a little confused, you wonder how much longer he would have survived on his own in the city.

“Welcome to the Pit,” you say before turning on your heel and walking away.

~~~

Nightmares are as plentiful as soil on Suga’s fingers.

A sliver of moonlight is all that keeps you from sinking into the darkness, skin clammy, chest heaving. Your fingers twist into the sheets. A prayer is whispered that you didn’t scream this time. You can’t bear the thought of Kiyoko running again, feet bare, knife in hand and tears glistening on her cheeks. Her utter, pure relief haunted you for a month.

It would be so easy, you think, to never get up again.

Kiyoko would care for you. Daichi would stop by, every day, and update you. Ukai would read to you, probably, or nap in your cell, unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.

These are the thoughts that force you up, out, stumbling into your worn boots, shrugging a jacket on.

Takeda finds you in the office hours later, hunched over inventory reports in his neat handwriting, hair pulled back. He puts a pot of coffee on and hands you a steaming mug, holding a hand out for the report you’re struggling to understand.

“Winter is coming,” you sigh as you hand it over. He doesn’t ask about the shadows beneath your eyes, doesn’t comment on the fact that it’s barely six-thirty in the morning and you’ve clearly been awake for a number of hours.

A smile quirks at his lips.

“I didn’t know Tanaka managed to get the TV’s up and running,” he jokes. You wave your hand in a vague gesture, taking another sip of the liquid heaven in your hand.

“We need to get winter supplies,” you answer and that sobers him up. He nods, slowly, eyes roving the paper.

“Winter isn’t for over six months,” he reminds you. An eyebrow is raised. A teacher, waiting for an explanation. In moments like these, you see the high school teacher that you’d found barricaded in his office, babbling a stream of students’ names that Daichi had quietly whispered as your group cut them down, reading them off their uniforms.

On Takeda’s worst nights, as you guarded the door to his cell, you’d heard those same names, apologies and nonsensical gibberish streaming from his mouth as he grappled with his dreams and feverish tremors.

You stand, stretching, before stepping in front of a map of the city that Suga had snagged on one of his patrols. It’s huge, taking up an entire wall. Little markers litter the paper, different colors, and you run your finger over the pale blue ones in the northeast corner.

“There’s a limited supply of winter clothes in the city. I don’t want other groups getting to it first - we don’t need that bastard holding it over our heads when we have food and they don’t,” you remind him. Your arms cross behind your back automatically. “With the snows, we’ll need snow boots. The kids need jackets and thermals. We need to completely outfit the prison’s entire water supply system to last through snowstorms. We need hot water before then or half of us are going to be too sick, and the other half will be taking care of them. We need medicine, too.”

You tick off each item on your fingers, pausing to consider if you’ve missed something. You’re probably missing ten somethings and you struggle to see what they are. You need more coffee.

Takeda is twenty-nine, but when you turn to look at him finally, he seems sixty, glasses dangling from his fingers, nose bridge pinched between his knuckles.

He mutters something suspiciously close to a curse under his breath before opening his eyes.

“You’re right,” he admits. “We’re going to need at least seven months to prepare.”

The morning is a whirlwind. You send the youngest children, always the earliest risers, to fetch Daichi and Kiyoko, both much more bright-eyed than they have any right to be. Takeda drags a yawning Ukai into the office moments later and Tanaka slouches after them. Suga pokes his head in to give you a little wave and knowing smirk that everyone else finds nonthreatening before ushering the children to the cafeteria for their breakfast.

You’re positive you’re not imagining the pale pink coating Daichi’s cheeks.

After explaining the situation, everyone sucks in a collective breath.

Tanaka never sits and always faces a door. From his corner of the room, he glowers at the map.

“Well, fuck,” he neatly summarizes. You nod your appreciation for his conciseness.

“We need to get a hold of meat,” Ukai points out. A something you had missed.

You grab a marker and the portable whiteboard Takeda had grabbed a few weeks ago. In neat characters, you begin documenting everything thrown around the table.

“Raising livestock will be another way to keep the little ones busy.”

“We can’t ask people to shower in cold water during winter, that’s cruel.”

“Tanaka, is there any way to get the heating system up and running by then?”

“What about air conditioning? We have to get through the summer to get to winter, and heat is just as likely to kill us.”

“If other groups realize what we’re doing, we could be in trouble.”

A headache is brewing somewhere behind your temples and you bite back a groan. Kiyoko pushes a cool water bottle into your hand and you know she isn’t fooled for one second.

“I think we’re missing someone here,” Kiyoko points out mildly after what feels like an eternity of circular conversation. All eyes turn to her and she’s unruffled, fingers still wrapped around her mug.

“Kuroo could be a huge help to a lot of this,” she continues. “I’m sure he can help Tanaka and Noya with everything on their list, and we need more able-bodied men on the patrols anyway. He can help us with medicine, our food supply, all of it.”

A furtive glance in Tanaka’s direction is not encouraging. He’s glowering, eyes hooded.

“We barely know him,” Tanaka hisses. You have to privately agree.

“We barely know each other,” Ukai shoots back. “We’ve been here, what, three months?”

“He hasn’t even been on a patrol yet and you want him helping us make important decisions that affect everyone, including the kids?”

“That’s unfair, and you know it, Tanaka,” Takeda says patiently, but somehow reproachfully at the same time. “Kuroo has been in no condition to patrol. The man was emaciated.”

Takeda continues, levying everyone at the table with a stern face.

“We all trust each other now because we took the gamble and brought people in and allowed time to prove it. It was always a risk, and it will always be a risk, but we can’t let that stop us. What we’re doing here is more important than just working together to survive.”

It’s a flowery, nice sentiment, to be expected from a literature teacher, and you barely hold back a snort at Ukai’s warning look.

“None of this matters,” you cut in. “Takeda’s right. And so is Kiyoko. He could be a huge help to you specifically, Tanaka, and he’s getting better every day but we have to give him time before he’s physically ready. You saw him when we brought him in – he was skin and bones.”

Tanaka subsides into grumbling acceptance and you take it as a win.

Daichi returns with Kuroo in tow just minutes later, and if Kuroo is at all confused, he doesn’t show it. He folds himself into a chair, all long limbs and wide feet.

The problems are laid out on the table again. You watch as Kuroo absorbs it, eyes narrowed, flicking sometimes to the map on the wall.

“Frankly, I wish we were in an apartment building,” Tanaka reveals after an hour of debating the best way to acquire livestock.

You sigh, rubbing the heel of your hand into your eyes hard enough to see colors. You know it’s not Tanaka’s fault, that he’s saying out loud something you’d privately thought before. That the electrical systems in apartment buildings would be much easier for him to coax into submission.

But you’re tired. Kiyoko is rubbing the old wound on her shoulder again, Ukai’s fingers are tapping a loud rhythm on the table, and Daichi is watching you lose your mind with that same placid smile in place.

“I wish the apocalypse didn’t happen and we all didn’t have nightmares every damn night, but here we are,” you snap. “I wish we were all cozy in furnished apartments right now, too, and I wish we didn’t have to talk about these things.”

You wish the children didn’t have to hold knives, you wish Suga would stop forcing you to eat, you wish you could forget your mother’s laugh, you wish and wish and wish.

Tanaka’s mouth is open and Daichi is sighing, rubbing a hand over his face. Kuroo’s eyes are expressionless and he just looks like he’s waiting, though for what, you can’t even begin to guess.

You find that you don’t have the energy to regret the words, so you barrel on.

“The apartment buildings are stacked with nightstalkers. It would take weeks to clear even one out, and we would lose people. Guaranteed. We lost one person clearing this prison out and that —”

You’re cut off by a strange choking noise in your throat. The memory of Ennoshita is sweet, cloying, poisonous. Takeda looks pale and strained at the mention of it. His last student.

Your voice is pitched low when you manage to blink away traitorous tears. The sound of your chair scraping is loud and grating against your ears as you stand. They all watch you silently. Waiting.

“Ennoshita is buried here,” you say and the surprise on their faces is almost insulting. “So is Ayasaki’s little girl. We have a life here, one we built and fought for. The kids love it here, it’s as safe as it can get, and it’s isolated from the turf wars in the city. You know why we chose this place, you were part of the vote that decided it, Tanaka.”

Deep breath in. Out.

“I know I’m asking for a lot, but it’s necessary, and we’re all up to the task simply because we have to be.”

As far as motivational speeches go, you’re sure this is ranked pretty low. But Daichi straightens and Kuroo’s eyes are gleaming as he stares at you. Kiyoko is almost smiling and you take that into both of your hands and hold on for dear life.

“I have to protect them.”

Everyone in the room opens their mouth at pretty much the same time but Ukai beats them all to the punch with his lazy drawl.

“You’re a moron,” he sneers. “An absolute idiot if you think you’re doing any of this alone. Now run along and get some breakfast before Suga drags you there by your hair.”

~~~

It doesn’t surprise you when Kiyoko finds you later, on the roof, scribbling half-mad ideas into a plain notebook. She always knows where to find you.

“I think you should stay home tomorrow,” she says without preamble. The word home nearly sends you stumbling off the roof.

“Why? Am I dying and I don’t know it?” you ask dryly. The look she levels at you nearly makes your heart stop.

“We agreed to let Kuroo go tomorrow,” she explains, settling into the spot next to you, peering curiously at the notebook in your hand. “But you haven’t been sleeping and we can’t afford to lose you because you’re too tired to stand properly.”

You scowl. Damn the four eyes. Her and Takeda know too much for their own good.

“I’m fine,” you wave a hand dismissively. “I’ll get some rest tonight, promise.”

She let’s the matter go, which is a point for you, but you watch warily as she opens her mouth again.

“Tanaka is looking for you.”

A sigh.

“I should apologize.”

“That’s what he said.”

A laugh, short and barking, escapes you. Kiyoko smiles at the sound.

“We’re all such idiots.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq #kuroo x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #zombie!au #haikyuu zombie!au #this is purely self indulgent #kuroo x you #kuroo angst #my writing #yanna speaks #text #fanfiction

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jess-the-vampire · 3 years

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The Demon Next Door, Chapter 9

Previous / Next

A week had passed since marco had heard the "Conversation", between Tom and Star.

And while janna's theories were in the back of his mind, that wasn't his main focus.

No, his main focus was to keep being a good friend and not act like he had just heard something personal and private that he wasn't supposed to know about. He needed to get back into spirits, hang out with his friends, and be as supportive as possible for the two of them until they were comfortable talking to him about whatever it was they weren't sure about mentioning to him.

They were his friends after all, he didn't want to lost them due to being a terrible friend.

But while he was ignoring janna's ideas, as anything janna claimed was really never true, and as much as he tried to keep happy, he still somehow felt irked and he didn't fully understand why. He was trying to come up with reasons, maybe he felt his friend liked each other more then him? Well he knew that wasn't true, tom almost always seemed to hang out with marco when he had the chance, so did star.

Maybe he felt this way because tom was really succeeding with his crush and marco wasn't? After all marco already had gotten upset about tom being so good at karate when it took years for him to even break a single board.

But somehow it didn't feel that way, marco had already squashed that bug, especially when he realized how much it hurt tom.

So what was it?

What was it really that was bothering him so much?

"Marco? Hey dude, did you hear me? I got the tickets!", tom waved his hand in front of marco's face, waking him up from his thoughts, Tom was smiling and laughing at him, playful as ever. "Dude, you alright? You're so spaced out", marco shook his head, he really needed to start paying attention to his best friends, especially if he wanted to not come off like he was suspicious or anything.

Thankfully tom didn't seem too bothered, probably chalking it up to marco thinking about school or jackie.

"Uh sorry, yeah, that's really awesome tom, i can't wait to go with you!", marco was actually genuine about that, he was pretty excited to go with tom. He'd never been to a concert in person and he was sure if he did he'd go with star, having a guy friend who liked the same band was not something he expected to happen so quickly. And they were going to hang out and sing together? God it was the best thing marco had ever gotten in awhile.

Well, hopefully it would at least.

"Me too, i've never been to a concert before...", he said, voice wandering, "I never really got to y'know "Hang out" with people much back home. So...I'm actually really kinda excited to just do stuff like this with a friend.". He smirked a little, "Besides, maybe after we can go get some tacos and smoothies and just hang out for a bit...maybe i can sleep over at your house if you want?".

That sounded...amazing.

"Yeah! I'll ask my parents, but i know they'll say yes anyway...we could even try and get justin tower's autography while we're there...maybe...hopefully".

"Yeah of course, i think i can do that".

"You can?", marco asked, puzzled and ecstatic.

"I've never been to a concert before, but i did meet him in person once, when i was back at my old home...so he might remember me and meet us or something", wait a second, tom had MET the lead singer of their favorite band?! And never told marco about that!? Was tom some celebrity or something secretly?! How in the heck was tom so lucky-

Tom must've seen gears turn in marco's head as he quickly stepped in.

"Sorry, i wanted it to be a surprise before but i guess i might as well spill the beans on that one".

He seemed actually a little sheepish about that one, but marco patted his back, "Tom, you don't have to go so overboard for me but...it all sounds like a lot of fun, i really appreciate it. I'm probably gonna have to owe you for this one, like majorly, though i'm not sure what can beat meeting one of my idols in person, a sleepover, and a concert...".

"Dude, you don't have to-".

"I know, but i want to.".

Tom seemed to blush a little at that, touched at marco's words.

"So yeah, i'm excited...big ole hangout, just you and me. Consider it a big thank you for y'know...not making me feel alone or weird out here. Then tom let out an oo as marco hugged him tightly, almost knocking the wind out of him. "No one has ever done something that nice for me before, god, i'm gonna have to work to one up you after this whole thing".

Tom laughed, "You don't have to...".

"But i want to", marco replied, repeating tom's words teasingly.

"Very funny...but yeah...oh and maybe we can make cookies during the sleepover, something fun...could top it off with movies or games if you're still awake by that point", he winked, "Make it the best night ever". He bumped marco's shoulder as they disbanded, noticing people were staring, Mostly a lot of his classmates. Marco nearly forgot they were still in school, simply waiting for the bus to take them home.

That reminded him.

"So uh...where's star?".

She usually was here by now, unless she got held back to be scolded or something, or maybe star forgot something at her locker perhaps, she never ran late to get out of school with her friends. Mostly because these days star was pretty happy to avoid having to do schoolwork and deal with people like Brittney, though her not being here seemed to leave marco and tom both super worried.

"Should...we look for her?".

She was going to miss the bus if she didn't make it here soon and marco didn't want to leave her here. He gripped his backpack strap a little tighter in nervousness, tom trying to reassure him before star made her way around the corner in a hurry. Clearly knowing how late she was to meet up with her friends and tugging them onto the bus before they could even ask what happened.

Both letting out a small noise as she did so.

Marco felt the wind knocked out of him being thrown onto his seat and tom on the opposite one, star breathing faster then usual.

"S-star?".

"H-hey guys...sorry i'm late and everything I uh...got caught up in stuff", the boys looked between each other and she quickly ushered them to the bus so they could get home, "C'mon, we need to get home...". Marco felt her squeeze his arm rather forcibly, and he wondered just what star got herself into. He had the impression whatever it was, it might've been...well, bad.

And Star confirmed this for him the moment they sat down in their seats, the girl trying to fix her hair and huffing.

"Star...what happened?".

"I-...i was talking to jackie and ugh...brittney passed by".

Oh, oh no.

"Apparently her stupid birthday is coming up and of course none of us are invited because of course and jackie told her off for acting so mean and said if none of us were coming, she wasn't interested in coming either", star sounded so irrtated by that but that seemd very in character for jackie to do. Marco had to admit, the fact jackie stood up for them like that was actually...it was rather sweet, especially since jackie was considered decently popular among the school.

"Well that's cool of her...it's ok, it would've been a boring party anyway".

"Marco, you don't understand...brittney told us to come!".

"WHAT!?".

"Apparently she'd rather we show up then have jackie not show up, because the scene she made when defending us got a LOT of people's attention, that's why i was late, we got sent to the principle's office and in the end...she said we're coming", she seemed to be resisting the urge to stab someone at the moment, her anger searing through her teeth.

Even Tom looked baffled and grossed out, "Then why bother showing up, let's bail, ruin her party...like i care".

"Except she called our parents already to make sure we couldn't back out-".

"She didn't".

"The principle technically made the call...but..."

He couldn't believe this, they got themselves roped into a party with the girl who was spreading lies about them and being awful to them? Why? Why even bother, they had better things hey could do then hang out with someone as awful as Brittney, but somehow by a stroke of luck they seemed to get themselves roped into going to her party anyway.

There was an inkling that brittney almost planned this, like she had malicious intention with them coming, she would really rather have them there then not jackie? C'mon, there had to be something up.

"Pfft, we'll just pretend to be sick that day then...".

"Our parents aren't that stupid tom...we just all conveniently get sick? On the same day of a party of a girl we don't like? Ha, right", tom hated to admit it, but marco was right about that, there was no way they'd buy into that no matter how convincing they might make their sickness. Tom felt a wave of anger and frustration hit him, his good mood with marco suddenly ruined.

"Fine, but if we're going, i'm not speaking to her".

"Don't worry, we won't either".

This seemed to make tom a little better, a smile, faint as it was, appearing on the corner of his mouth for a split second.

"I'm glad to have you guys around as my friends, ugh...i hope jackie knows what she got us into-", it wasn't jackie's fault of course, she was trying to help, but seems it only led to more problems in the end. Star sighing, "She told me she was really sorry about that, she'll probably text you guys soon about it...i think she's hoping to make things up to us later if she can", that sounded like jackie alright.

At least she was taking responsibility for it.

But being sent to a party of the biggest bully in school? That sounded like there was no way it could end well.

Especially with all the rumors being spread around, and marco felt his chest stop when he really thought about it. A lot of the rumors around came from him hanging out with tom, what if they got worse? There was a real chance of it after all. Tom could get teased about their relationship and tell everyone off for it and...well, he could tell everyone that he didn't feel that way for marco.

And that seemed to sting to marco for some reason.

What if this ruined their friendship?

He didn't want brittney to tease tom, it could ruin tom's social life entirely and their friendship and-

"Marco? Everything ok?".

Star and Tom were staring at him, both highly concerned for their friend.

And no wonder, marco looked like he might burst from all the anxiety building up inside of him right now, all this stuff that was getting to him even though nothing had actually happened yet. He needed to pull himself together, calm himself down, do what tom did when he had moments like this, take a breather and remind himself nothing bad had happened yet.

"I'm ok, i'm sorry, i'm just worried what's going to happen if we show up...i don't trust brittney, she might take advantage of us being there or something.".

"You're not wrong about that marco, she always looks like she's up to something bad".

Star then grew a grin on her face that marco didn't like, the boy quickly snapping into her face to get her out of it, "Hey uh...don't, we could do without being banned from school or sued...instead of causing trouble let's maybe just be super careful around her instead".

Star looked sad, but she didn't seem surprised either.

Next time.

As they were dropped off, they were quickly surrounded as both marco and tom's parents left their respective houses tp give the kids large hug, as if somehow this situation was something to actually celebrate. "Oh KIDS! I heard you got invited to a big PARTY with your friends! That's so wonderful! It's been so long since i saw you go to a friend's birthday party like that marco!", marco was embarrassed as he was squeezed tighter by his father.

Gee, tell the whole world why don't ya?

"Tom's never been invited to a party before, that's wonderful!".

"DAD!", Tom blushed, him and marco both uncomfortable and humiliated now.

At least tom understood his pain, even if they both wanted to be out of this as soon as possible. Their parents eventually let them go though, noticing their kids didn't look nearly as thrilled as they did about this whole thing. They had to know what brittney was like at this point from how much their sons complained about her, there was no way they didn't.

And yet this thought this was a good idea?

They had to be desperate to get their kids out of the house at that point.

"Sorry sorry sorry, i'm just happy to hear about you being invited to an outing with a lot of kids, your mom is already considering what you should wear so you look good for it". His mother nodded and tom felt even more embarrassed, he wasn't dressing up for the meanest girl in school, he would for star, marco or even jackie but not for the girl who glared at him during lunch.

"Ooo! We'll help!", and marco grumbled as his father approached tom's parents.

He desperately hoped they didn't give the three of them matching outfits.

Because if given the chance, they would.

Star motioned to the boys, and pointed down the road and marco was quick to put the pieces together.

"C'mon, she's inviting us to her house tonight to uh...,avoid...this", he motioned to their parents talking and tom shrugged, maybe star's house was a better place to hide right now, at least star's mom might actually see the problem with all of this. The three heading down ways to get to star's house, a place marco had been a few times but tom had not been inside yet.

In fact, he'd yet to even see what it looked like.

It was a nice blue house, white door and windows, with a well maintained garden in the front and well kept lawn. You'd never think it was the kinda place someone like star really would live in if only because star would never have a house this nice looking if she actually owned it. Her parents must've really put in the effort to keep it this good looking.

And upon further inspection there was a lovely butterfly print on the door.

Tom was taking it all in but none of this was new to marco, he'd been here before enough times, and star's messy room contrasted this nice looking house to the extreme. He also remembered it because jackie lived on the next street, he remembered when star moved in and he felt slightly jealous how lucky she was to be so close to jackie, though really it was a blessing to have an excuse to wave at the girl when visiting star and she was riding past them.

"Up to my room, c'mon...before mom notices", star motioned for them to enter, not wanting to deal with her mother and her strictness, Marco couldn't really blame her, her mom always seemed a little too uptight, even if she was cool with her having friends over, he tended to make a lot of rules himself but Moon was on another level of strictness to make sure stuff didn't get out of hand.

It was like she thought star was a bomb or something that could explode any second.

But it seemed neither of her parents were back yet from...wherever they actually worked.

Their house was...mostly tidy, and it seemed rather elegant from the inside, thought that probably came from moon more then anything. The rest of her family were way too rowdy to have a place looking as nice as this. If river and star had in their way the place would probably look like a giant mess with several animals running around and only moon kept this place together.

But overall, it was nice.

Nearly the opposite of tom's much more gothic type home.

Star dragging the boys to her room, wanting to avoid her mom as much as possible and to hang out with her friends, the two finding themselves in the messiest room in the house. Star's clothes were everywhere, so were her books, and trash and so much more. Another thing she and tom had in common, they both weren't the peak of tidiness, though tom seemed marginally better in comparison.

Usually when marco slept over, he tended to sleep downstairs, both because River tended not to trust marco to sleep in star's room and both because it was too messy for him to sleep up there anyway.

Marco wasn't mad about that though, Star's room was a safety hazard.

Even now he and tom had to carefully step over the girl's trinkets and clothing to take a seat on her fancy canopy bed. Star dropping her backpack and items just on the floor without much of a care in the world, before falling on her floor, tuckered out. "Y'know, i've never been invited to a party since i've moved in here...well, aside from marco's at least, i just wish it wasn't brittney's of all people", she pouted, looking at the ceiling.

"You really think we're gonna be forced to go?", marco asked, star nodding.

"Yeah, we're stuck now...you know your parents aren't going to let you back out...".

Tom laid back on the bed, annoyed, " I can't believe that, it was so embarrassing, announce my partylessness to the whole world why don't ya dad...", tom covered his face, blushing under it as marco tried to calm him down. "It's ok tom, lots of teens don't go to those kinda parties, you aren't alone...it's not that embarrassing, and it's totally cool".

"You don't get it marco...i already feel anxious enough from barely talking to people...it's like rubbing it in my face".

Oh.

"I'm sure your dad had no ill intent...if it makes you feel any better though, i usually don't get invited to parties either, i usually throw some but never go to much myself", tom was quiet, leaving marco wondering if tom was comforted or not by his words. But he kept talking, just in case he may of stepped out of line, "I know it's lonely and everything...not having fun with the others...i'm sorry this had to be your first party here...".

"That's ok marco...i guess at least, i get to go with you".

Marco felt his face grow warm rather quickly, turning away to hide it, though unfortunately turning away from tom...meant looking at star.

Star smirked, seeing marco's face as he turned away.

If star and tom were dating in secret he didn't want either of them getting the wrong idea.

"Uh yeah, that at least sounds like a lot of fun...i'd rather go with you both then...alone".

"We'll just stick together so that leech doesn't mess with any of us...", tom hissed, "I might have to wear my good suit and everything, just in case...get a little tired of everyone acting like i'm some criminal or something because of how i dress.", it was really a shame the rumors were starting to spread like this, tom was still fairly new, well...not THAT new anymore but he'd hadn't lived here long and everyone was judging him.

it really made marco mad.

How was tom supposed to fit in if everyone was treating him like a danger to society for no reason?

Ok sure, maybe tom had well...scared jeremy half to death, several times, but he hadn't actually done anything criminal! He hadn't robbed anyone or attacked anyone or even harmed anyone for the sake of it. Jeremy was also being a bully during those times as well and tom hadn't even really laid a finger on him either, he came out unhurt...well...his social standing might've been hurt...

No, tom protected him and stood up to a bully, that wasn't the same thing.

These accusations were done to slander the boy.

Really it might've been possible with how tom had stood up to jeremy he might've been getting some attention Brittney didn't like, she hated attention being driven from herself after all, which was why Star bothered her so much. Now there was another strange new student getting the attention of others for her to scoff at, and with him even spending time with star and her best friend she might've felt more threatened.

Of course the new kids who got people's attention were friends, of course they were.

At the very least, that sounded like the reason Brittney was like this.

She could never just handle people taking attention away from herself.

Which then gave marco an idea, something he seemed to share with both his friends in the room.

"Y'know what, i think going might be a good idea, don't you think so?".

"Yeah marco", tom said with a grin that janna would envy, "Y'know something, maybe we HAVE been too hard on her, we should do to her party and give her the BEST birthday she could ever get from someone like us!". Even Star actually seemed delighted, rubbing her hands together, "Ooooo, yessss, i'm already gonna get started working on my gift".

Their smiling faces were quickly wiped however, at the sound of an opening door downstairs.

It seemed star's parents were finally home.

Which naturally starting sending star into a mood, quickly getting up and placing her ear at the door to hear how close they were and if they were talking about her or anything important. Though marco noticed she was glancing back to him more then anything as she listened in, like she was worried he'd hear something he shouldn't for some odd reason.

"Star?".

"Shhhh, my parents are home, keep quiet!".

The boys exchanged looks between them, waiting for star to stop...whatever she was doing, a few minutes passing before she headed outside her room to greet her parents downstairs. Hearing her mother ask if she got detention again and her father erupt in laughter, but overall they both seemed happy. Tom and Marco waiting just in case star didn't want them to come down yet.

But sure enough they heard star coming back up.

"Star? Is everything-?"

"Mom knows you're here...she's asking for you two to come down".

The two boys looked at each other before getting up and heading down the stairs carefully, hoping they weren't in trouble.

Tom actually looked really nervous all of a sudden and marco felt a bit concerned, was tom just nervous to meet his crush (Possibly girlfriend) 's parents? He seemed to look that way, guess he was so eager to get away from his parents he hadn't really taken the time to think about the fact he might of been going to run into star's own parents by being here.

Marco felt a sudden urge to comfort him.

Star's parents weren't THAT bad...but granted, Tom's look might give them the wrong idea.

Especially to someone like Moon who Marco and star both agreed seemed to be a bit more uptight.

But as the boys finally made down moon and river looked upon them pretty normally, the woman wearing a suit and river wearing the most dad outfit you could imagine someone who liked hunting and the outdoors would wear. Though before the boys could relax they were fixated on Tom, and that seemed to make marco really worry, were they judging him?

But they didn't seem mad...they seemed...surprised? Worried? Like they wanted to say something but couldn't?

Marco couldn't read their minds but something felt off when the couple looked at tom.

Like they'd seen him before.

But marco didn't even have much time to really ponder any of that, before River pulled him into a hug that crushed his bones. "MARCO MY BOY! GOOD TO SEE YOU!", this was how the guy usually greeted marco whenever he saw him but marco would prefer to just shake his hand...actually, maybe less then that. River was so strong marco wouldn't be surprised if he could punch a hole in the wall at this point.

Jesus, where were all these super strong people even coming from?

At this point maybe they all came from the same place and everyone was secretly superheros.

"Yeah...good to see you too...", marco managed to get out despite being crushed in the man's arms.

He fixed his clothes as he was let go and noticed moon had pulled tom aside to talk, though marco couldn't even tell what the two were saying to each other, peaking his curiosity even more as star stood nervously by.

Something was going on here and it was super weird, that was for sure,

Though star quickly dragged him into the kitchen to offer him some cereal, away from tom and her parents, only making marco more suspicious of what exactly was going on around here. It was like everyone was in on something he wasn't allowed to know about, and it gave him an uneasy type of feeling as he looked at star skeptically, not buying her attempt to change the subject and distract him.

Before he could even call her out on what was happening she was already making him cereal and answering his question, "Don't worry marco, it's all good...they uh...they just know about the rumors about tom and stuff...so they're nervous...that's all".

Was it though? Would star's parents really care about those rumors that bad? Especially since they were started by a bunch of teenagers?

Star could tell marco wasn't buying it, and she nervously poured him some juice, clearly regretting the choice to take the boys here. She quickly tried to change the subject again despite marco's clear uninterest, "Anyways we could do homework and stuff...come up to my room later so we have some quiet time away from my parents and everything.".

Yeah something was wrong alright, considering star NEVER wanted to do homework.

What the heck was going on?

But whatever it was, it was clear he'd have to push star on it later when she wasn't being...well...however she was being right now, There was no way she was going to tell him what was actually going on when she was like this, he was just going to have to wait. Though he could hear tom talking to star's parents outside, left wondering what they were talking about.

He felt so...left out.

And he really didn't like this feeling.

He never really felt this way before when it was just him and star, but something about tom since he arrived seemed to have marco more on edge, thinking about things he never really had to before.

Was he really overthinking all of this?

He doubted it.

His feelings right now just were...confusing, he didn't know what to think right now and suddenly the comfort he had just a few minutes ago in star's room seemed to have left his mind. Star went back outside to where the others were as marco sat alone, before tom came in to see him, smiling a little awkwardly and trying to brighten marco up, as unsuccessful as it was.

Tom wasn't dumb, he could tell this was all really strange to marco.

"So uh...i'm guessing you might want some answers to-".

"Yeah", marco said, not even needing tom to finish his sentence.

"I'm...gonna have to wait and tell you sometime later...maybe, if i'm allowed".

If he was allowed? What did that mean? Tom wasn't allowed to talk about what was going on? By Who? Star? Her parents? His parents?

Tom could only send him a reassuring glance to help him relax, though marco was having a hard time doing so...his mind swirling with questions, only making tom more worried.

"Marco...please don't-".

"It's fine...it's fine...", marco said, huffing, he needed to pull himself together, if tom was going to tell him what was happening he was just going to have to wait and hear about it, he couldn't lash out at his best friends without knowing what was going on. He felt tom trying to comfort him and reassure him nothing was worth worrying so much about, and marco finally cooled off.

He didn't meant to get so upset but something about this...bothered him.

These were his best friends, the people he should be trusting the most of anyone.

And yet they were keeping secrets from him and leaving him out, he just couldn't help but feel a sense of betrayal.

"Marco...i can tell you're not fine...and i'm really sorry, but please...can you trust me on this...when there's a good time...i want to talk about it with you.", marco turned to look at tom directly, into his green eyes before turning away, feeling his face get warm. He really couldn't stay mad at tom for long could he? Tom was being way too nice to him as per usual.

"I...hope you have a good reason for all this", marco mumbled.

"I do...i promise".

Marco munched on the cereal star laid out for him as he felt tom comforting him, "Hey...for the record...we didn't talk about anything you need to worry about ok? Star's parents just had some things they needed to say to me in particular". He was trying to ease marco and marco took a few long breaths to weed out the last of his pent up anger, he'd never been so moodly before.

Was he sure he wasn't the one with the anger issues? Not Tom?

Tom seemed usually very cool and Marco felt he was the one with so much...frustration.

Tom was here, trying to get him to cool down, not the other way around.

Why did om give him a reaction like this so often? First karate now this?

Marco slumped his shoulders, he felt bad now.

"Hey, i'm sorry, i don't know why i'm so moody lately...i didn't mean to take it out on you and star...", his voice change turned tom more towards him, worried, "Hey it's ok, i get what you mean...i get moody too...my parents always say it's hormones and everything but i know it's inherited...my parents have their own anger issues and everything...they're just better at dealing with them then i used to".

"Hormones?", marco now felt REALLY embarrassed if that had been the case, shaking his head and changing the topic.

"I just want to know i can trust you and star...ok? You're my only friends and it feels like you're not telling me something because of...", he didn't finish his sentence and now it was tom's turn to feel bad, "I know...and i really want to tell you...but not right here...it's not a good time...but i will tell you marco...don't think this means i don't trust you or anything".

"I'll take your word for it...ok?".

That was enough for tom, looking rather relived.

"Ok, thank you marco, i promise...i'll explain when i can".

Star suddenly headed back in, relieved, "Ok, think everything is back on track...sorry about that, i really should've thought a but more about bringing you over to my house when my parents might of stepped through the door. ". She actually did seem rather anxious, like this whole thing stressed her out more then usual, it seemed to soften marco just a little more.

"It's ok star, don't worry so much, you got everything under control".

Those words seemed to send a wave of relief to her, "Yeah, yeah i did".

"You think we outta leave before things get more awkward?", star's eyes wandered to marco and back to tom, "Uh...well, maybe for now let's stick around, don't wanna risk getting into another situation or something".

"Actually, good point".

Last thing they needed was to add to the already tense situation they were currently under.

And marco didn't need any more stress placed upon him then he had already placed on himself. Star headed back out of the room and marco finished eating, waiting in silence for star's return, glancing at tom every once in awhile. Sometimes he caught himself looking a little too long, carefully looking anywhere else he could, not wanting to look like a weirdo.

He swore tom had glanced at him a few times though, even if he was trying his best not to think about it too hard, tom was probably just feeling as awkward as marco was. Marco wasn't even sure he knew how to make light conversation right now, he had pretty much all but got into a serious fight with tom and tom was probably being careful not to freak marco out more.

Earlier that day they were talking about how excited they were to hang out at a concert and now marco was freaking out about tom keeping more secrets from him, it was such a long range of emotions that he couldn't fully figure out. He felt sick to an extent, though he knew he was probably exaggerating the situation worse then it already probably was.

"Hey tom i-".

"Tom, marco, your parents are looking for you", moon wandered in, fixing herself up, "I know your visit was brief but you should head back and see them, i think they're worried about you since neither of you told them where you were going and it'll be dinner soon". Tom nodded and stood up, marco doing the same, actually happy to be leaving and getting out of this awkward situation.

Star sending them an awkward wave and promising to text them later so they could figure things out when it came to Brittney's party.

Leaving Tom and Marco to walk together.

"Marco, your friendship means a lot to me...", the tall boy mumbled, "I don't want you to ever doubt that...".

Marco nodded as they walked side by side, "I know, i didn't meant to freak you out, i guess...tom i know something is off, and i know you're not being completely honest with me...star's parents looked at you REALLY funny, like they wanted to say something. I don't...want to pry and stuff, i just...i don't want to feel like i'm being lied to either...like i want you guys to trust me".

"Yeah, i know...", he brushed at his hair, sighing, "I figured something like that would happen eventually...it was nothing against you marco, i promise...".

"So you'll really explain this to me?".

"I will, when i can, i promise...", tom stopped their walk, they stool on the sidewalk between their homes, knowing they needed to part ways and move on for the night, "I really care about you marco, this stuff is just...private...and i need to think about it...before i can consider it.". As much as marco wanted to know what tom wasn't telling him, he had to admit, tom didn't HAVE to tell him anything, this was personal to him and he had a right to talk when he wanted.

Marco gripping his backpack and letting out some air, "Alright, i'll respect that, i'll text you later tonight ok?".

Tom smiled, "Yeah, and we can plan our gift for brittney and our love sentence stuff!".

Marco smiled back, "Yeah, sounds good".

They stood there, as if wanting to hug or something before they parted, but instead, they awkwardly shrugged and avoided eye contact, both a little flushed before marco headed to his house. Tom stood there a second longer before heading to his, marco turning to see the boy wave at him as he closed the door, waving back meekly. The relief of home hitting him.

After dinner, and a long conversation about marco running off to star's without telling his parents, followed by discussing what he should wear to a teen party. Marco was happy to be in his room, getting ready for bed and ending this long day. His cell phone sitting nearby as tom started texting him, the phone constantly buzzing with energy over and over again.

Marco grabbing it and sitting on his bed.

Tom sending him a few pics of him and his rabbit, next to some clothes he wanted to wear for the upcoming events.

He looked so happy.

and marco quickly felt himself blush a little at seeing him before realizing the warmth and shutting it down, thinking about what tom said earlier.

"Hormones...yeah...", he mumbled, texting tom back for a long night of chat.

He'd have to check in with a doctor later...get that sorted out.

Something was up with him and the sooner he fixed it, the better.

#star vs the forces of evil #svtfoe #svstfoe #tomco #tom the demon #tom lucitor #marco diaz #marco #my art #fanfiction #star butterfly

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calciferstims · 2 years

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honestly, im gonna watch them, the lotr films, no matter how many pauses i take, its going to be BLOODY WATCHED!! loool, im determined!

haha not mocking you but the "cyborg octopus man" had me chuckling, sounds funny. but yea basically that is what he is. i remember when i first saw him in the movie i was thinking he looking kinda hella mad interesting.

what are some of your favourite plushies, if you have any? i honestly have so many, like i dont even have room for them all on my bed so i have had to put some away in boxes lol...and yet, i want more haha. one heartbreaking, okay kinda exaggerated but not really, is that i threw away some aaaaaaages ago and every so often im bashing myself for it, really, because some were given when i was a little child, and some of my grandparents, that are no longer with us. makes me sad that i threw them away because i just get in what i call "depression" cleaning, so i dont care about anything and will throw away legit anything. luckily last time i had me mum stop me though, so i didnt throw away a massive amount of books...hate when that happens. idk why tf im blabbering on about that lmfao im sorry.

that gotta have been annoying, wanting to talk a lot about your interests that you are more into than others, i imagine?

i dont really have any, like, interests that i know about, like i have zero information about films, stuff i watch and whatnot lol...whenever someone asks me what something is about that im watching, i just cant explain it lol, im like, i- im watching it but idk how to explain it? lol...

yeah that last portion sounds like hyperfixation/special interest in a nutshell for some lol. sometimes it lasts longer, sometimes it doesnt. whats the longest on-going hyperfixtion you have had?

thanks for your reply mate!

YOU CAN DO IT!! I BELIEVE IN YOU! YOU WATCH THOSE MOVIES!

Listen. What is very important to understand is that I do not like Doc Ock for deep reasons 😌 He is simply a cyborg octopus man and that is very funny! The tentacles are telling him to do crime!! He’s a funny man and I like him! Also I want him to forcibly adopt every version of Peter Parker until they are all his children ok goodnight

I’m really sorry to hear that you lost some of your plushies that way, that sounds like a really difficult problem to deal with :( I highly encourage you to keep having fun getting new stuffies tho, if it’s something that makes you happy! :))

Hm, well I don’t have many stuffies anymore but one of the oldest ones I have that I care about a lot is Wolfy (yes very creative name I was 5 okay) and he’s a grey wolf I got from Build-a-Bear :) He’s permanently dressed in a Star Wars pajama top and firefighter overalls, one arm is stuck bent backwards for some reason, but his heartbeat still works and he’s a huge comfort item for me 🥺 If I get more soon, I really wanna get some cow plushies and maybe some bee plushies!!! The brown cow Squishmallow looks so freaking cute, and there’s so many adorable Jellycat plushies too!

As far as being into things more than others goes: it’s alright really? I have some very lovely friends that are willing to hear me talk about things even if they don’t know it 🥰 I have developed some insecurities around my infodumping, but they’re always there to reassure me and I’m getting better! :)

Hm, well I can’t really remember all my fixations or how long they lasted, so it’s hard to say what was longest.. technically I think my longest is Loki because I went from Original Big Hyperfix - to general continued interest - to the big Loki Hyperfixation Revival of 2021, so that’s definitely stuck around 😂 but you asked for longest ongoing hyperfixation, so I gotta be real honest as to what I think it was.. 😅

The Rocky Horror Picture Show. AND that spawned an equally large Tim Curry hyperfixation. For seven freaking months. 7 months of hell-brain, baby 😔 I try to never shame myself or others for hyperfixations, but I gotta admit, that’s one thing I’m happy to move on from lmao. But hey, if you ever need to know anything about renowned actor Tim Curry and his extensive filmography, I’m your guy 😂

Thank you for your lovely responses as well!

#if you don’t know what rhps is. uh. don’t look it up. there’s no need #ask box #truly I am impressed that my friends put up with me through the rhps era #it was at like the height/beginning of Covid too #i joked that it was my brain’s coping mechanism in remote learning lmaoo

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notcanoncompliant · 4 years

Text

Make It Better

Starker College!AU; Student!Peter/Professor!Tony (another excuse for me to write the word ‘panties’ repeatedly) (sorry not sorry)

****

Something’s off about Peter. Tony notices as soon as the kid steps into the lecture hall, and it only becomes more obvious as Tony actually gets the presentation going.

His favorite student (sue him, every professor has one) is hardly participating, and though he’s still obviously paying attention throughout, typing notes up as he goes, all of his usual enthusiasm is just…gone. He looks tired, or maybe sad.

Tony doesn’t think about how frequently he’s glancing over to check until Peter looks up and their eyes lock. The younger’s flare just slightly, and Tony feels like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Especially when a bloom of pink spreads across Peter’s cheeks.

He doesn’t check on him again for the rest of the lecture.

But he worries.

After he’s dismissed everyone and the students are filing out of the hall, Tony makes a decision.

“Parker, stay behind for a minute.”

Something in him is too satisfied at the way Peter halts almost immediately at the sound of his voice, stopping hard enough that he rocks forward slightly.

All the times Tony’s pulled Peter aside before this have been exercises in both self-restraint and masochism. The twenty-something is made of sunlight, brightness leaking out of his pores, and watching that split second of supernova excitement burst across his features when Tony tells him to stay is the instructor’s most guilty pleasure.

This time, though, there’s a quick spark, a flash of the light Tony’s (hoping for) familiar with, and then anxiety, and then the kid just looks…flat. Forcibly so. Like he’s hiding something.

The door closes behind the last retreating body, and then it’s just them in the empty lecture hall.

Tony moves to lean against the front of his desk, braces his palms against the wooden edge.

“Alright, kid,” he says, raising one hand to gesture vaguely at Peter, who’s stopped a few feet in front of him, “what’s up? You seemed pretty off today. Distracted.“

Peter winces, his eyes skittering down and away for a second before he looks back at the instructor.

"I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, I–it’s nothing, I didn’t mean to get–I still took notes, I wasn’t just–”

“Okay, Peter, breathe,” Tony soothes, “I’m not trying to berate you. You’re usually a little more active participation-wise, I wanted to check up on you. That’s all.”

He has to fight the urge to physically comfort Peter when those doe eyes (those eyes, those regular, normal eyes that Tony only ever notices as such) go pained and disbelieving and hopeful before the feelings are again poorly shuttered away.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Mr. Stark,” Peter says, smiling unconvincingly while the knuckles on the hand holding his bag strap turn white, “it’s nothing, just–just life stuff. I’ll be–it’ll be fine in a couple days. Tomorrow! Tomorrow, I’ll be fine tomorrow, participating and everything!”

Tony needs to accept defeat and let him go, bad poker face and all, but a not-good-very-bad voice in the back of his mind is muttering to him about the returned blush on Peter’s face. It’s making him think a little too much about the uncharacteristic unwillingness to share.

They’ve talked about things that aren’t related to curriculum in their frequent after-class discussions. Life comes up; they know some basic things about each other–favorite takeout, least favorite movies, places they grew up, etc.–and some things that are maybe not so basic–names of best friends, stories of first pets, how often they visit their parents, and so on.

But this is the first time he’s seen Peter so…flustered.

Thankfully (yes, thankfully) Tony’s conscience prevails and he decides not to push.

“Okay. Alright. But if you ever do need to talk to someone, my door’s always open.”

He gives Peter a quick smile he hopes is as comforting as he means it to be, pushes off the desk and circles back around to his seat.

He’s proud of himself, he really is, Tony thinks while he blindly shuffles through some papers. Resisted temptation. Kept things on neutral ground. Breached no bound–

“My boyfriend dumped me.”

Tony freezes, his fingers flexing involuntarily. The crinkle of paper is loud in the spacious, empty room.

Okay.

“That’s rough, I’m sorry,” Tony says, suddenly wishing he had something to drink. Water. Juice. Scotch.

He looks up at Peter with what he hopes is more empathy than the inappropriate excitement he’s feeling over the development, but he’s suddenly a lot less concerned with what his own face is doing when he sees Peter’s expression.

The kid’s not even looking at him, just staring off to the side with this heartbreaking shame written across his features.

“I…” Peter’s throat clicks when he swallows, “I told him about something I…like. And he, um…”

Oh, man. Oh, no.

“…he called me a pervert,” Peter says, quietly, “and I know it’s not a big–I mean, the word’s kind of a joke…but, he really meant it, you know? There’s a difference, when someone says it and they really think you’re–” he pauses, frowns tightly. “What I–it’s not even anything bad, not gross or illegal. And I know it’s not, but…for a second…”

Tony’s heart fucking shatters for him. There’s nothing quite like being genuinely kink-shamed for the first time, especially by someone you thought you could trust. For someone as genuinely sweet and kind as Peter, it would be completely implosive. He remembers similar devastation, hates seeing the confused, questioning pain on Peter’s face, the self-doubt.

He resists the compulsion to ask what, exactly, Peter likes.

“I’m sorry. That’s really shitty,” he says instead.

Tony doesn’t typically curse in front of his students (has to keep up appearances of professionalism somehow), and he preens internally when Peter huffs a surprised laugh. It’s a nice moment, both of them wrapped in shared experience (even if one party’s unaware), uplifted by just a hint of levity. Very Chicken Soup for the Secret Kinky Soul–

“Do you–,” Peter starts, blushing slightly, “–can I tell you what it is? It’d be nice to hear it’s, you know, not actually weird?” He’s squirming a little, his eyes dancing away again with nerves.

Tony might actually die. Rolling himself back a bit from the desk, he takes a breath and pastes on his last-ditch effort at an encouraging, platonic, smile. Slouches casually against the backrest of his chair.

“If you feel comfortable sharing, then shoot.”

He’s going for ‘mentorly’, he swears. This is definitely an appropriate conversation to have with his student. Definitely. Yes.

After a beat of silence, Peter shifts. Takes a breath. Swallows.

“I like…um. I like wearing pant–” the kid chokes a little, flushes darker, “I like wearing women’s underwear.”

“Ah,” Tony says. He tries to covertly lace his fingers together over the vicinity of ‘just below his belt’ and only succeeds in drawing Peter’s eye to where his hands have disappeared.

Before Peter’s eyes flip back up to meet his, Tony sees the kid’s tongue peek out to wet his lips in a subconscious motion.

Clearing his throat, Tony brings his hands up from his lap to fold them on the desk, leans forward. Watches the anticipation and uncertainty dance across Peter’s face. Hopes he’s coming off more supportive than interested.

“It’s not weird, Pete. It’s…not. Don’t worry about that.”

It feels hypocritical; essentially telling Peter not to think much of it, when Tony is going to have an impossible time thinking about anything else. He’s trying hard not to think about it right now, trying to avoid imagining clinging lace, or satin, or silk, stretched over Peter’s–

“Can I show you?”

Tony absently approves of the phrasing; that he’s being offered a gift, that this is something Peter wants to give him. The response he knows he should give is something along the lines of 'that’s not appropriate’, but the only one banging around in his head is a resounding YES PLEASE.

When he gives up and nods in the affirmative, Peter slides his bag off his shoulder.

Tony’s expecting him to pull out his phone, maybe show him some pictures. Apparently, Tony’s going to have to re-examine his take on reality, because Peter does not pull out his phone.

The brunet lowers his bag to the floor and starts taking off his jacket.

Tony’s frozen, again, as the jacket hits the carpet beside the already discarded laptop bag. Frozen, twice in one day. Twice in less than an hour. Peter is a fucking trip. He’s a dream, he’s a hallucination–

–that will be immediately visible if anyone were to open the lecture hall door.

Peter seems to realize it at the same time. He’s across the room in a couple of seconds, reaching for the door handle, pausing for a beat…and locking them in together.

It feels a little like someone snaps their fingers in Tony’s face.

He’s about to let one of his students–his favorite student–basically give him a striptease. In his classroom. It’s beyond 'inappropriate’. This is something Peter should be exploring with other twenty-somethings, not a professor fifteen years his senior–

But…Peter had tried to explore it with someone else, hadn’t he?

“Mr. Stark,” Peter says, suddenly, “Is this okay?”

The younger man’s back in place, like he’d never moved at all, but now he’s shyly lifting the hem of his t-shirt with one hand and undoing the front closure of his jeans with the other, and Tony’s eyes lock onto the peekaboo of fire-engine red now visible beneath the worn denim.

“Yeah, Pete,” he says, voice rasping slightly, “It’s okay.”

Everyone has a breaking point, Tony reasons as he stares at the picture in front of him. There’s only so much he could possibly endure before letting go, and apparently his threshold’s pretty low when it comes to Peter; a few seconds of crepe paper resistance.

He stands slowly, comes around the desk. Peter doesn’t move, just watches him, brittle-sharp hope in his eyes. Tony’s aware he’s moving like Peter’s a frightened animal, and his brain both shies from and reaches towards how this could make him the hunter, more so than the awed observer. Though he is definitely both.

The way the kid’s chest heaves slightly on a sharp inhale, the way his lips part just barely when Tony lowers to his knees in front of him, are just more gifts, more memories Tony wants to etch into his brain and play on loop. He plans on showing just how grateful he is.

Peter’s flushing a lot brighter, but he’s not pulling away; he just pulls the zipper open a little further, revealing more of the delicate pattern that overlays Peter’s pale, smooth skin.

“Can I touch you? Kiss you?” Tony asks, voice rough

Peter gives him a shaky but enthusiastic 'yes, please’.

Tony groans and reaches for him, tugs the denim waistband down a couple inches and pulls Peter gently forward by the hips so he can drag his lips along the line where that softly-defined vee of muscle disappears under the thin lace. Peter’s hand slides into his hair, and Tony hums in approval as he presses drawn out kisses into the skin of Peter’s stomach.

When Tony grabs two generous handfuls of Peter’s ass and squeezes, those tentative, sweet fingers tighten reflexively.

“This is–you look edible, Pete. I’m so lucky you’re letting me see you like this.”

“Yeah?” Peter asks, breathless and wide-eyed when Tony looks up.

“Yes, sweetheart. Beautiful. Gorgeous…” He punctuates each word with another brush of lips to the border of lace and skin.

He smells lightly musky and male through the delicate fabric, his cock hard and hot underneath.

Shutting his eyes, Tony gets lost in nuzzling at Peter, murmuring sweet nonsense, nipping and kissing and dipping lower, reveling in lightly musky male scent through the delicate fabric. Peter’s cock is hard and hot, and Tony can’t help but lave his tongue over the swollen head, humming when Peter shivers against him.

He pulls back to both attempt to calm down and check on how Peter’s doing; he hadn’t meant to get so worshippy–

When he looks up, he feels like his chest is caving in. Peter’s on the verge of tears, eyes red-rimmed and wet, and Tony pushes to stand.

“God, Pete, I’m sorry–”

He’s cut off with a muffled 'mmph’ when Peter grabs his shirt and yanks him down for a kiss. It’s short and hard and desperate, and when it’s over, Peter pulls away enough that Tony can see the almost-panic on his face.

��I–Mr. Stark, thank you, please don’t apologize, please don’t say it was a mistake, it felt so good, you felt so good, I don’t want to stop, I’ll stop crying, I promise–”

For a second, Tony’s furious with whoever made Peter believe he has to apologize for his tears (wonders if it’s the same dipshit who said no to Peter Parker in fucking panties), but Tony’s anger won’t help anything right now. He reels in his questions, and instead reaches up with one hand to swipe the fresh-fallen tears from Peter’s cheeks, a move that stops the flow of anxious word-vomit.

“If you want more, I want to give you more,” Tony says, using his free arm to wrap Peter’s waist and tug him gently forward. “I want you to have the world, kid.”

It’s too honest–Tony’s being way too honest right now; months of feelings and want trying to break free–but he’s not about to stop. Not when Peter’s staring up at him with heartbreaking, careful hope.

Lowering his head, Tony presses a kiss to the corner of Peter’s jaw, murmurs his next words into his ear.

“You’re amazing, Peter. So brilliant. So sweet.” He drops both hands to slide down Peter’s hips and around to the small of his back, slips his fingers just under the lace, drags them back and forth along the soft skin just above the curve of his ass as Peter arches against him with a shaky gasp.“That you look like a wet dream right now is really just a bonus.”

“Mr. Stark…” Peter breathes, surprised, his flush deepening.

Tony’s going to have to tell Peter to use his first name at some point, but he’s a little too selfish to do it right now, when the moniker sends a bolt of liquid heat swooping low in his stomach.

“And you’re going to make a mess in these for me,” he continues, tugging at the panties, “because I want you to feel good. Because you deserve to feel good.”

Peter’s staring up at him with a sweeter version of the supernova Tony loves, tentative hope and anticipation and want.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Tony says, tilting his head down to brush a kiss across Peter’s lips, “let me make you feel good. Let me make it better.”

***

@the-amazing-spidertwink, @starkercrossedlovers

#starker #tony stark x peter parker #ironspider #panty kink #starker fic #tony x peter #peter parker #tony stark #nff #kink shaming

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ellewritesathing · 4 years

Text

Infernal - VI

Summary: In your sleepy little town of Greendale, nothing ever slept for long. And ever since October, everything felt like it was waking up. Everything except for you, that is. One teensy trip to Hell (and an infuriatingly cute guy) later and suddenly you felt wide awake.

Word-count: 3.7k+

Masterlist Prev. | Part 6

A/N: so i just wanted to thank you guys for the support you’ve given Infernal!! it really makes my day to see you reading and getting feedback is just 💓💓 anyway this is the last part for this series until the next season comes out, but i have a few caliban wips. should i start posting those and tagging you in them?? thanks again and i hope you like this!!

Light streamed through the blinds when you woke up, landing softly on your covers and gently covering Caliban’s face. He’d never looked so calm when he was awake; always putting on a show, whether it was for you and your friends or for the courts of hell. Look at me, his face screamed when he was awake, I don’t care. I am in control.

Now it was silent. Dreamy.

You reached out a slow hand and moved some blonde curls out his face, letting it rest on his chest when you were done. Smiling to yourself, you thought about how absolutely mundane this morning was. Nothing to do, nowhere to be. You wouldn’t change a thing.

“I have the strangest sensation of being watched,” Caliban murmured as he stretched out next to you. His arms extended overhead and you watched how Harvey’s too-short hoodie crept up to his elbows. When you looked at his face, it featured a barely contained teasing grin.

“Well, we’ll have to get that sorted out right away,” you said as Caliban rolled his eyes and propped himself up on an elbow to face you. Your hand moved from his chest to the side of his neck, thumb tracing his jaw. “Tell me, sir, what did the perpetrator look like?”

“Beautiful.”

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, careful not to crash into you or get too tangled up as your hands rose to the sides of his face. His laugh tickled your face. It made your heart beat a mile a minute.

You pulled away ever so slightly to look in his eyes. Breath caught in your throat as you asked, “Don’t go back to Hell.”

Now his face said he was confused, something that he didn’t feel very often. Caliban sighed and rolled back to his side of the bed, slipping through your fingers to stare up at the ceiling with a half-open fist resting on his forehead.

“I just mean-” you slid closer, getting up to your forearm to face him. You lifted your hand to his chest but your palm hung millimeters above it. Unsure fingers tapped at the air. “For one day, stay here. Sabrina won the challenges, right? So there’s no real rush and I- I could show you what it’s like to be human for a day. And you could-”

Caliban took his fist off his forehead and wrapped his hand around yours, holding it to his chest as he took a breath. His eyes moved from the ceiling to you. Your heart stopped. “I’m not going outside looking like this.”

“Deal. There’s a Target like ten minutes away and you can pick out whatever you want,” you said. Before he could argue, you turned and started climbing out of bed. “What do you want for breakfast?”

Caliban looked at you with equal parts amusement and bewilderment before shaking his head and moving to his feet. “Surprise me.”

You reached out a hand to lead him to the kitchen, but stood still in front of the door, shoulders tense as you turned to face Caliban. “I should warn you,” you said, looking at the spot between his eyebrows. Apparently, people couldn’t tell you weren’t making eye contact if you looked there. “My dad can be a little … much. Lilith said he has something like the cunning, but I think it’s more like early-onset dementia. He means well, he just- he gets a little confused.”

Caliban’s jaw clenched as you spoke and you watched him make a conscious effort to relax it. In the most controlled voice you’d heard, he asked, “And does he hurt you when he gets confused?”

You couldn’t even look at the spot between his eyebrows. Coward. “He doesn’t mean to. He just-”

“That night you had a bruise on your arm, that was him?”

“You remember that?”

There was something fiery in him when you looked at Caliban again, slithering just below the surface. You cupped his face and drew his eyes off the door and back to you. His skin was hot to the touch.

“He needs help. You can’t hurt him,” you said. He was going to say something biting so you talked over him. “Please, just for today, let it go.”

Silence. His jaw clenched.

One.

If looks could kill, your door would be nothing but a pile of splinters and you would be dust.

Two.

“Just for today,” he conceded.

You held up a pinky and all that anger faded into amusement. He even laughed when you picked up his hand and forcibly intertwined his pinky with your own.

“This means that I get to keep your pinky in a jar if you break your promise,” you said, sounding far too serious for someone making a pinky promise before nine o’clock in the morning.

“Is that another promise?” Caliban asked, leaning down slightly.

Still, after everything that had happened, the action made you nervous. In a (probably failed) effort to seem cool and unaffected, you dropped his hand and turned to open the door. As soon as you did, the smell of pancakes hit you in the face like a ton of bricks. Your dad was awake, and he probably wouldn’t remember the past few days. Would that make this easier or harder to explain?

Too busy thinking to come up with clever and endearing things to tell Caliban about your house as you wandered your way to the kitchen, the two of you walked in silence while you absentmindedly gripped his hand.

‘Silence’ wasn’t really the best word to describe it because, although neither of you were talking, the house was filled up by your dad’s music. When you got closer, you could even hear him singing along as he flipped pancakes.

“Dad?” you asked hesitantly as you rounded the corner to the kitchen. The batter sizzled uncertainly as he looked up at you. All of the carefree happiness drained from his face when his eyes landed on Caliban. “Dad, this is-”

“That a monster should be such a natural.” His voice wasn’t quite as venomous as the last time you heard him speak, but it was icy. “Caliban, son of the witch-hag Sycorax. Native son of the-”

“Dad, no.” You let go of Caliban’s hand to take a step closer, putting one hand on your dad’s and using the other to try and pry the angry spatula from his hand. “Caliban is a friend. He-”

“O, it is monstrous, monstrous: Methought the billows spoke and told me of it-” Your dad broke eye-contact with Caliban to stare holes in your soul. He whispered to you like a child trapped in a horror movie, “The winds did sing it to me, and the thunder - that deep and dreadful organ-pipe-”

“Dad-”

“Be not afeard. This isle is full of noises,” Caliban said. His voice was almost as gentle as it was when he showed you how to conjure light, and he walked closer very slowly and carefully. “Sounds and sweet airs that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices that, if I then had waked after long sleep-” He held out his hand, palm up, like someone would to frightened animal “-Will make me sleep again; and then, in dreaming, the clouds methought would open and show riches ready to drop upon me, that when I waked I cried to dream again.”

Your dad blinked once, twice. He looked at you. He looked at Caliban. He looked at Caliban’s hand.

“Oh, crap, that one’s burnt!” He jumped out of your grip to shut off the stove and scrape out the burnt batter before something caught alight.

Caliban held onto your shoulders in an effort to comfort you as you stared at your dad. No matter how often it happened, you still couldn’t understand what made him like this. One second he was making pancakes, the next he was cursing you in Elizabethan tongue, and then he was making pancakes again.

“So let me guess,” your dad said with a wry smile as he turned back to the two of you, pan successfully scraped clean. “Long lost cousin of Sabrina’s-” he pointed the spatula harmlessly at Caliban and continued to the stove “-And you’re working on a … History project? Fell asleep at the desk?”

“You’ve always been a good guesser,” you said through gritted teeth.

Your dad laughed as he poured the next lot of batter in the pan. “Chin up, Y/N, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. There’s some pancakes over there and the syrup’s in the fridge.” He smiled over your head at Caliban. “Help yourselves.”

“Thank you,” Caliban said with a thin smile.

---

You sat in the car for five minutes, tinkering with the seat and mirror settings while Caliban sat politely in the passenger seat. Never did you imagine using the words ‘Caliban’ and ‘polite’ in a sentence without the words ‘is not’ sandwiched between them, but a lot of things had changed since then. Sighing, you sank back into your seat and looked over.

Polite, amused.

“Okay, you need to put your seatbelt on before we start moving,” you said. Caliban arched an eyebrow at you. “I’m being serious. Belt on or you can stay in Harvey’s old clothes the whole day.”

“Are you that bad of a driver or did you forget that I’m nigh-indestructible?” Caliban asked, making you roll your eyes.

“Wanna find out exactly how indestructible you are?” you asked, leaning over the armrest and getting distractingly close to him.

Caliban’s eyes dropped to your mouth. “Do you want to try?”

“Nope!”

You yanked the seatbelt forward and kept it with you as you flipped back into your side of the car, clicking it into the socket when you could breathe again. You shot him a grin and he shot you a glare. Oh well.

Switching on the engine, you tried to string together a coherent thought. “So this car is old - older than me, probably older than you - so she’s a little sensitive. She’s also a piece of crap who’s been stuck on the same cassette since I learned to talk,” you told him as you rolled out of the driveway. “The air con’s busted. There’s a spring sticking out of the backseat. Is that a cloud? We can only turn right if it starts raining.”

Caliban let out a laugh next to you, craning his head to try and spot the cloud. “Why don’t you just get another car?”

“Because she’s part of the family.” You smacked the dashboard twice. “Aren’t you, Sugar?”

The speakers started blasting Tiffany’s I Think We’re Alone Now in response and it was the first time you’d ever seen Caliban look truly startled, even if it was just in your peripheral vision. It made you smile the whole way to Target.

Despite your worries, finding Caliban something to wear was pretty easy, even if you had to coerce him into picking out a jacket. It didn’t take long for something to burst your bubble though: you heard Harvey laughing somewhere nearby.

“Shit,” you whispered, grabbing Caliban’s arm. You pointed over some shelves to where Harvey and Theo were looking at graphic socks. “Shit. Scatter!”

“Excuse me?”

“Scatter! I-” You shoved the clothes into Caliban’s arms. “Go try these on. Don’t come out until I come to find you.”

“Don’t you think this is a bit of an over-”

“No!”

You pushed him back towards the changing rooms and got ready to confront Harvey and Theo when Caliban’s hand caught your wrist and pulled you back with him. You didn’t argue until he latched the door.

“Don’t know how to get dressed by yourself?” you asked in a low voice.

“If I said yes, would you show me?” Caliban asked, lifting the corners of his mouth. He sighed before lifting Harvey’s old sweatshirt over his head. “I didn’t think you wanted to explain all this to your friends. Hence the - uh, what was the word you used - scattering?”

You bit your cheek as you weighed your options. Deciding it would be easier to think without looking at Caliban’s chest, you handed him a shirt. You focused on Caliban’s hands as he buttoned up the shirt, long and dainty-looking as he worked his way up the fabric slowly.

And then there weren’t any buttons left, just Caliban watching you watching him. It made your heart stop. Again.

“Right, all done?” you asked, moving your things so you could stand up. You became intimately aware of how small these changing rooms were.

“Unless you want to stay for the pants part?” Caliban asked.

“I think I’ll take my chances with Harvey and Theo, thanks,” you said and carefully stepped around him to get to the door.

While Caliban was busy, you did some impulse buying and tried to catch your breath. Thankfully, Harvey and Theo seemed to have left. The whole situation left you feeling conflicted; all you wanted was to tell them about Lilith and Caliban but you were scared that they wouldn’t understand.

When Sabrina finally told you all about her being a witch … to say it didn’t go over well was an understatement. When you finally told them, would it go over any better?

After getting Caliban something to wear and something to eat, you took him to a parking lot of a long-abandoned strip mall. Still debating whether this was a good idea or not, you took a breath and turned in your seat to face him.

“Don’t make me regret this,” you said carefully, resting your hands on the gearshift. “Do you want to learn to drive?”

“That depends. Am I going to learn in this car?”

You rolled your eyes and turned back to the front, the beginning of a biting comment coming out of your mouth before Caliban laughed and leaned over, placing his hands over yours on the ignition.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he said, stifling the rest of his laughter. “I’d be honored if you’d teach me to drive.” You didn’t say anything. He leaned in closer. “In this car.”

You turned your head to look at him, underestimating just how much he leaned in. Almost nose to nose, you said, “Say please.”

“Please?”

“Like you mean it.”

A smile sparked on his lips. “Would you, please, teach me how to drive?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” you said dryly, unlocking the doors and stepping out while Caliban shook his head and did the same.

Teaching Caliban was just as infuriating as you expected; he sped up when you said he couldn’t, he rode out the clutch, but - worst of all - he didn’t appreciate the background noise of the broken mixtape. Round and round the old parking lot he went, muttering swears and curses all the while.

“Okay- okay, babe, you need to stop.” You put your hand on the gearshift, over his tight white knuckles. He let out a heated breath as he shut the car off. “You’re sticking the shift from second to third. Sugar’s old, remember? You need to be more gentle.”

“I’m being plenty gentle.”

“You’re definitely being plenty something,” you said. He didn’t appreciate the joke. “Take a breath. Let’s try again.”

Caliban didn’t say anything as he started the car up again, but he did everything you told him when you told him to do it. With your hand guiding him, he didn’t stall for the first time in over an hour and he only swore once (at a pigeon, but in his defense it really was stopped in the middle of nowhere).

Finally, Caliban parked the car squarely in the middle of four spots and turned to face you, much like you had some time ago but without propping up any legs. “We’ve been doing human things the whole day,” he said. “I’d like to add something to the itinerary.”

“Oh, would you now?”

“Do you trust me to take you there?” Caliban asked, ignoring your teasing.

“You mean, like, letting you drive on the road?” you asked. “Where the other people drive?”

“Unless you’d like to teleport there,” Caliban offered.

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Okay, you can drive but you have to listen to me exactly like you did just now. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Bad music blared over the speakers as Caliban drove, windows down, to his mystery location. You pretended not to notice whenever he damn near stalled the car, he pretended not to notice whenever you messed up the words to the music, and you both pretended not to notice how right it felt to have your hands intertwined.

It was absolutely mundane. A drive for over-eager teens with nothing better to do. You wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Caliban turned down a gravelly road that you were sure led to private property, but you didn’t mention it. He seemed very sure of himself in your piece of crap car. Even as he rolled to a stop and the car wheezed its way to sleep, he looked like he was made for this moment.

“So is the part where you make me dig my own grave?” you asked, moving to face him and lifting your hand from his to the side of his neck. “Because you should know that I’d rather kill myself than do manual labor.”

Caliban let out a laugh as he mirrored your movements, except his hand lifted to his mouth, thumb running across his lower lip. “No, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for a while longer, love.”

You weren’t entirely sure how to answer that one, so you took a breath and looked down at the gearshift. “So what exactly is the plan?”

“Swimming,” Caliban answered. He unbuckled his seatbelt before you could ask more questions - of which you had plenty - and got out of the car.

You had to rush to keep up, slowing your jog once you could grab his hand. “Woah, slow down. Swimming? In a Greendale Lake?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Uh, yeah. For starters, it’s January.”

“I can cast a spell to keep you warm.”

“You got a spell to protect me from Hep A?”

Instead of answering, Caliban rolled his eyes and lifted his hand, palm up, in front of you. He nodded to it when you didn’t answer him. “Do you trust me?”

You bit the inside of your cheek as you looked at his hand. Not everything had to be a show of how tough you were, and you got the feeling that Caliban already knew how tough that was. You put your hand in his, trying your best to memorize the changes in his face when you did.

The two of you walked in silence, joined at the fingertips, until Caliban slowed down at the mouth of a cave and you made a disapproving noise. You held up your other hand when he looked at you, to show that you were trusting and not criticizing. At least not externally.

The cave wasn’t anything like the one you’d found Medusa in, nor was it like any of the ones you and Harvey played around when you were kids. It was smooth and dark, with air far less musty than you expected. Water was running somewhere and Caliban led you to the spot where it ended. A small, pitch dark rock pool.

Then Caliban let go of your hand and started taking off his brand new shirt.

“Okay, what are you doing now?” you asked.

“Swimming,” Caliban said without any hesitation. “Do you not remember?”

“I-” You broke off. He said you were going swimming, did you think he just magically had a swimsuit in your size hiding out in this cave? You crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m not taking off my underwear.”

“It’s going to an awfully uncomfortable drive home,” Caliban said with a devilish smile as he threw the shirt at you. “But whatever you prefer.”

You stood awkwardly as he finished undressing and slid into the pool. He was considerate enough to turn around after your first complaint and then you begrudgingly took off your layers. At least it was dark enough in here that he couldn’t see you blush.

Dipping in your toes, you pulled away with a tiny shriek. “It’s fucking freezing!”

Caliban laughed as he waded around to look up at you. It was unnerving, though he didn’t mean it to be. “It’s going to be cold for the first few seconds. Diving headfirst is the best way to do it.”

“Yeah, if what you’re trying to do is get a concussion.”

“Just get in,” Caliban said slowly, “And it’ll get better after that. I’ll warm you up if it doesn’t.”

“No way in Hell. And I mean that with a capital H,” you said, refolding your arms over your chest. “The only way I’m getting in there is if you drag me.”

Caliban’s head tilted to the side for a second before straightening up as he waded closer to you. When he was right in front of you, the water only came up to his naval, but he gestured for you to lower down to him like he was telling you a secret. In a dangerously low voice, he asked, “What was that again?”

You blinked back your surprise. “Uh, what was what? That I’m only getting in here if you- Don’t you dare!”

Before you could run away, Caliban had scooped you up and twirled you into the icy water. But you couldn’t focus on the cold when everything that he touched was on fire. And when the screaming and splashing and laughing died down, it was just you and Caliban alone in the dark. Nose to nose. Holding your arms to his chest. Too afraid to breathe and mess up the moment.

Your heart was trying to break out your ribcage.

“I think you were right,” you whispered. “Diving in headfirst is the best way to do it.”

Caliban’s heart was slow and steady, but you could swear it skipped a beat right there.

“You’re sure about that?” he said softly.

“Without a doubt.”

Tag List: @caliban-is-my-girl @t-a-i-l-o-r-m-a-d-e @music-movies @miss--moose @marrypuffsstuff @harryscarolinaa @igorsbby @foji2000 @mschfavngz @artaxerxesthegreat @thxmagic @luquincy @strawberriesandknives @xealia @hotmessindisguise @olivia-west-allen @sweetrogers @reheated-coffee @shelby-x @perseny-blog @millie-753 @luneerius @shizzybarnaclee

#caliban #caliban imagine #caliban x reader #infernal #chilling adventures of sabrina #caos #caos rewrite

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440mxs-wife · 4 years

Text

It Was Always You

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Your phone dinged in your pocket with a text message notification. Your eyes widened as you read the message from Dean. It said they were on their way home, but that Sam got hurt, and to be waiting in the infirmary. He didn't elaborate on Sam's injuries, so you made sure to have suture kits and bandages readily available.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It's been about eight years since you started hunting with the Winchesters. When you met them, you and your hunting partner/boyfriend, Evan, were on a hunt for werewolves. Your intel on the number of werewolves turned out to be wrong, which caused you and Evan to quickly get overwhelmed. At one point, Evan thought that you had gotten them all but the pack leader ambushed him out of nowhere and killed him.

You scrambled to find a hiding place, but knew it was just a matter of time before you were discovered. Just as the pack leader found you, a gunshot rang out and it dropped to the ground. When you looked up, you saw two men standing before you in blood-stained clothes. One of them had spiky hair, glittering green eyes and introduced himself as Dean Winchester. The other man was taller than the first man, with kind, hazel eyes and chestnut brown hair. Sam Winchester.

You had heard of the Winchesters, but never thought you'd ever cross paths with them. They checked you for injuries and rendered first aid. They also helped you with Evan's body in giving him a hunter's funeral. With Evan gone, you had no one else, so Sam and Dean invited you to join forces with them.

Living in the bunker, you settled into a routine with the Winchesters. They did the field work, while you were in charge of the bunker. You mainly researched cases, only hunting when absolutely necessary. You kept the home fires burning and patched up injuries. You waited up for them to come back from a hunt, hoping they would both be in one piece when they got home.

As time went on, you realized that the younger of the two Winchesters had captured your heart. At first, you tried to deny what you were feeling for Sam. You buried your feelings deeper each time he smiled at you, or laughed at something you said. The sidelong glances and lingering touches between you were slowly driving you crazy.

You tried to keep it cool on the outside, but you didn't know how much longer that would last. You already knew that there was no chance that Sam was interested in you "that way". If Sam ever found out how you felt and didn't return your feelings, that could make things weird between the two of you. You just had to keep reminding yourself of these facts, which was proving to be more and more difficult each day.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The bunker door flew open, and in came Dean, with Sam's arm around his shoulder. You had just come back from the infirmary to see Dean trying to maneuver Sam down the stairs. You raced up the steps to sling Sam's other arm around your shoulder to make it easier on both of them. Once in the infirmary, you and Dean managed to get Sam into a sitting position on one of the beds.

"What happened?" you asked Dean as you started to assess Sam's injuries.

"Thought it was a simple salt-and-burn, but turns out, the ghost was working with a couple of demons. We took care of the ghost, then as we turned to leave, the demons showed up. One of them flung Sam at the wall, then started beating on him. I took out the one who came after me, then got the one fighting with Sam," Dean explained.

As Dean is telling you about the hunt, you could see Sam was wincing with each breath. You tried to carefully remove Sam's shirt to check for more injuries. You finally decided that you had no choice but to tear the shirt off of him. Straight out of your fantasies, to be sure, but you harshly reminded yourself to keep your hormones in check. This was for purely medical reasons.

Once his shirt was removed, you could see multiple bruises on his torso. You figured it was probably bruised or cracked ribs, so you taped and bandaged up his side. Sam seemed to be breathing a little easier now that some of the pressure was off.

You continued your examination of Sam for other injuries. You found that he had a cut on his forehead, which likely meant a possible concussion, and he had a sprained ankle. You patched up the head wound, carefully wrapped his ankle and gave him some pain medication.

"Guess you're going to be stuck here for the next few days, Sam. At least until some of the swelling in that ankle goes down," you explained as Dean went to get an ice pack.

"No way, I'll be bored in here. I'll recuperate in my own room," Sam muttered as he attempted to get to his feet.

You forcibly put your hands on Sam's shoulders and got in his face until you were nearly nose-to-nose with him. "Sit. Down. Now, let's recap: you were recently in a fight with a demon, during which you got flung around the room and beaten. At the very least, you have bruised or cracked ribs, a possible concussion and a sprained ankle. You won't be going on any hunts for the near future, either, so I suggest you get comfy, Sam," you quietly but firmly stated.

Sam thought about fighting you about staying put, but the look on your face stopped him. Dean had also brought Sam's pajamas and a clean pair of boxers. Dean helped Sam change clothes, but not before making a lewd comment about how Sam should ask you for help. Then Sam got back in bed, into a sitting position. You placed a pillow under his sprained ankle and pulled the blanket over his bottom half. Sam caught your hand in his as you smoothed out the covers. "Hey? Thank you," he said softly.

You turned around and gave him a worn out smile. "You're welcome, Sam. But you don't have to thank me. I apologize for being so rude about getting you to stay in here, I know it's not an ideal situation. I just don't want to see you get further injured, all because you were stubborn and wouldn't allow yourself a chance to heal," you explained. Then you pulled up a chair next to the bed, and you stayed to keep Sam company.

It wasn't long before Sam's adrenaline wore off and the pain meds started to kick in. He yawned and you could see his eyelids begin to drift closed. Before you left the infirmary, you made sure he was comfortable and gave a lingering kiss to his cheek. "Goodnight, Sam," you whispered as you swept his hair from his forehead.

You wandered through the library and found Dean nursing a glass of whiskey. "Everything okay, is Sam asleep?" he asked.

With a weary sigh, you dropped into a chair and confirmed that Sam was indeed asleep. "I gave him some meds for the pain, so hopefully he'll sleep through the night. He needs rest, and I'm going to make sure he gets it," you replied.

"Gotta say, sweetheart, seeing you take charge like that with Sam was kinda hot," Dean smirked.

"Oh, but Dean, you're not the Winchester who has my heart. That would be Sam," you remarked. Your eyes widened and you immediately clapped a hand over your mouth once you realized what you'd said. "I mean, uh, that, um, oh hell," you stammered, as you covered your face with your hands.

Dean chuckled and put down his drink. "Relax, it isn't like I didn't already suspect something had to be going on," he remarked. "If it makes you feel any better, I think Sam's pretty clueless about it. But you should tell him at some point," Dean advised.

"Yeah? Maybe so. Then what happens when Sam doesn't see me that way? I'll have ruined a good friendship and things around here will get weird. No thanks," you stated firmly and rose from your chair. "Goodnight, Dean," you called over your shoulder as you walked to your room.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You checked on Sam first thing the next morning. He was looking much better than when Dean first brought him in, with a little more color in his cheeks. He seemed to be a bit restless at the moment, moving his head from side to side. From his mumbling, you could tell he was in the middle of a nightmare. You knelt on the chair next to Sam's bed and reached for the washcloth in the basin. After all of the water had been wrung out of the washcloth, you folded it and placed it on Sam's forehead.

As soon as the washcloth touched his forehead, he seemed to relax and start emerging from his nightmare. He stopped thrashing his head back and forth, and wasn't mumbling anymore. His breathing seemed to even out as you sandwiched his large hand in between your two smaller ones. Your thumb gently rubbed circles on the back of his hand while you whispered soothing words to calm him.

You watched as Sam's eyelids began to flutter and eventually fully opened. He seemed a little disoriented and immediately tried to pull his hand from your grasp, but you held fast. "Shh, shh it's okay, Sam. You're in the infirmary," you soothed.

"What happened? What am I doing here?" he asked nervously.

"You got hurt on that last hunt with Dean. You took care of the spirit, but you didn't know that it was working with a couple of demons. Dean killed one, but the other one went after you. Beat you up pretty bad, possible concussion, some rib damage and a sprained ankle," you explained.

"I remember now. I tried to go back to my room, but someone in a not-so-subtle way told me there's no way that was gonna happen," Sam gazed pointedly in your direction.

"Hey, I had to do something! You can't tell me that you would willingly follow my instructions of staying in bed with your foot propped up? Not to be lifting things to aggravate your ribs? Yeah, right," you retorted, dropping his hand. You got up from your chair and started to walk away, but Sam reached for your hand, and caught hold of it.

"Calm down," he chuckled. "I promise to stay here and behave myself. But, I'm going to need some distraction. Wanna play cards or watch a movie or something?" he asked.

Your attitude softened. "I can do that. Let me go shower and make some breakfast for all of us, then I'll be back. Deal?" you replied.

"Deal," he grinned.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam watched with a smile on his face as you walked out of the infirmary. He thought back on the events of the last day or so. He remembered the worry in your eyes when he and Dean first came through the door. Then he noticed how quickly you had regained your composure to focus on the task of getting him to the infirmary.

When you tore open his shirt, Sam thought he saw a fleeting glimpse of something in your eyes. They looked full of softness, an adoration maybe? Like you appreciated what you saw, but felt guilty and decided that maybe you shouldn't have. Could she have feelings for me? he wondered. Then he searched his mind for evidence to support his observation.

He thought about how he always finds you in the kitchen just in time to greet him after his morning run. You know exactly how he likes his coffee, and how to make the perfect egg white-only omelet with all of his favorites. And just this morning when he was having a nightmare, you knew exactly how to bring him out of it.

Sam made up his mind that if you were going to confine him to the infirmary, he was going to use this time to his advantage. He decided to test his theory and try to find out how you really felt about him. Maybe he'd even discover his own feelings along the way.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Over the next week or so, you spent a lot of time in the infirmary with Sam. The two of you played gin rummy, with Sam winning most of the time. However, you got your revenge while playing Scrabble by being the all-time high scorer.

As the days progressed, Sam started to notice certain things about you. How you scrunched your lips when you were deep in thought about the next card to play. Or how your hazel eyes sparkled as you discovered the winning letter combination in Scrabble. Your thousand-watt smile and how it lit up your whole face.

One evening, you took Sam out for a drive to get some fresh air. You drove to an open field that you knew would have the best view of the setting sun. As you leaned against the car, Sam turned to you and saw the wonder in your eyes at the simplicity of nature. He noticed how your hair caught the rays from the setting sun just right to make it look like it glowed. It was at that moment he realized he was falling for you.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A week later, Dean got a call about a case a couple of towns over. It was a simple vengeful spirit, so just the two of you went. Sam's injuries had healed pretty well, but he decided not to chance it and therefore stayed home. You promised that Castiel would be available if he needed anything, and would probably check in every now and then. Then you gave Sam a lingering kiss on the cheek and blushed a little as you shyly said goodbye.

Late that night, Sam was jolted awake by the sound of the bunker door flying open. You and Dean had succeeded in your mission and stopped at the bar on the way home. Dean's high alcohol tolerance enabled him to drive home without too much difficulty.

You, on the other hand, were a stumbling, weaving, giggling mess. Dean kept trying to shush you so as not to wake up Sam, which only made you giggle even more. He finally got you turned around in the direction of your room and guided you down the hallway.

Dean paused at your doorway and leaned you against the wall while he opened your door. "Hey, Dean?" you slurred. "You know what I wanna do right now? I wanna tell Sammy everything. You know, 'bout how I'm in love with him," you mumbled.

"Oh, really, Princess? Are you sure that's such a good idea in your current condition? 'Cause if you want, I can knock on his door right now and have him poke his head out here so you can tell him," Dean chuckled.

"NO!!" you shouted. "Don't do that. 'S probably not a good idea anyway, since he doesn't like me that way," you muttered.

Dean opened your door and pulled you towards him to guide you into your room. "How do you know that? Did you ask him? What would you do if he was standing in front of you right now?" he asked.

"Kiss him. Like this," you answered and gave Dean a kiss full on the lips. At that moment, Sam poked his head out just in time to see what looked like you kissing his brother. He dropped his gaze to the floor and quietly closed his door.

"But, that'll never happen. So I'll go in here, cuddle with my pillow and pretend that it's Sam," you replied softly, tears shimmering in your eyes.

Dean kissed you on the forehead. "Goodnight, Princess. Take a couple of Tylenol with a bottle of water before you conk out. Hey, you did good work today, you know," he remarked.

You nodded. "I know. Thanks, Dean," you mumbled, then closed your door.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next morning, you didn't have nearly as bad of a hangover as you expected to have. It was enough, though, to remind you that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to drink so much. When you wandered into the kitchen, Sam was already at work, making breakfast. Something was off about him, however. He had yet to acknowledge your presence as you walked in, even with just a look.

"Good morning, Sam," you remarked. Sam said nothing, just kept preparing his breakfast. "Good morning, Sam," you said a little louder. Still no response. "Good--" he cut you off.

"Morning," he snapped then returned his focus to finishing his breakfast.

"I-is something wrong, Sam? Are you feeling pain again, maybe from your ribs or your ankle?" you asked timidly.

"No, no pain there," he answered in clipped tones.

"If-if you tell me where you're hurt, I'll see what I can do to help ease the pain," you tried.

Sam looked up with a rare flash of anger in his eyes. "Listen, I don't need your help and, more importantly, I don't want your help. Besides, I think you've done enough," he snapped. You nodded, and brushed past Dean out of the kitchen, then ran to your room.

"What the hell was that all about?" Dean asked.

"Oh, like you don't know? The next time the two of you decide to hit the bar after a hunt without me, do me a favor. Get a room somewhere, then you can take care of two birds with one stone," Sam retorted.

"Now, what is that supposed to mean?" Dean demanded.

"It means, I saw you, Dean! You two weren't exactly stealthy when you got home last night. I saw you outside her room and the two of you were kissing. Don't even try to tell me 'it's not what it looks like', because I know what I saw. She wants you, not me," Sam ground out as he left the kitchen.

"Some days, it's best just to stay in bed," Dean muttered to himself.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Over the next week, you and Sam did your best to avoid one another. If he was in the room first, you waited until he left before going in. When you did end up in the same room, neither one of you could look at the other, let alone say much of anything. Not unless it was absolutely necessary, like looking for a case.

Dean was stuck in the middle, forced to watch it all from the sidelines, which tore him up inside. The two people he cared about most were in pain because of a misunderstanding. He wanted to try and fix this, but he knew the two of you had to work it out on your own.

Garth called Dean with a case involving a vamp's nest that needed to be dealt with. It was fairly good-sized, so he was going to need all three of you to take it down. You didn't really want to be cooped up in the car with Sam for that long, given the tension between you. However, you were needed, so once more, you pushed your feelings down so you could focus on the job at hand.

After another successful hunt, the three of you ended up taking another trip to the bar. You decided to keep your drinking to a minimum, considering what happened last time. You, Sam and Dean settled into a booth, with the boys on one side, you by yourself on the other. Dean brought over the first round of beers, which you tried to drink slowly to pace yourself. The boys finished their beers well before you, so Sam left the table to get the next round.

"You have to talk to him sometime," Dean remarked.

"Dean, I appreciate your help, but this is one time you need to stay out. Sam's angry at me, and he must have a good reason, because he doesn't get angry often," you replied.

"Not this time he doesn't, have a good reason that is. Remember that night we finished that vengeful spirit hunt? We stopped here on the way home, and you drank too much?" Dean prompted. You nodded. "Do you remember what you said to me outside your bedroom door?" he asked.

You thought back to that conversation. "I told you that I should tell Sam how I feel, and you offered to knock on his door to get him," you responded. "Then you asked me what I would do if he was in front of me at that moment, and I....Oh Chuck," you whispered. "He saw, didn't he? He must have thought I chose you over him. That's why he snapped at me in the kitchen the next morning," you said as everything made sense.

Suddenly you had a strong urge to find Sam, to explain what happened that night. You slid out of the booth and scanned the bar area to see if Sam was still there. He was, only he wasn't alone. A gorgeous woman with long, dark hair was making serious eye and body contact with Sam. He had his arm around her and was smiling at her, then he was laughing at something she'd said. Overall, he looked extremely comfortable in her presence.

Your heart sank as you abandoned your decision to find Sam. You told Dean you were going to get some fresh air and that you'd be back. However, you had no intention of returning to the bar. Instead, you started walking back to the bunker.

About halfway home, a car pulled up next to you and the lady driver asked you if you needed a ride. You politely declined, then the stranger showed you her fangs. You turned to run back to the bar, but didn't make it. Two other vamps appeared, and when they got to you, they knocked you unconscious.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Having fun tonight, Sammy?" Dean asked, with an edge to his voice.

Sam ignored the tone. "Yeah, actually. For once I'm the one picking up the chicks. See that brunette over there--" Dean cut him off.

"Cut the crap, Sam. You know who you belong with and it's not that brunette chick," Dean retorted.

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean, then looked all around the bar for you but didn't see you. "So, where'd she go?" he asked.

"Like you care. Right after you left the table, she went to find you to talk to you, try and clear the air between you. Then she saw you and Ms. Right Now hanging all over each other and headed outside for some fresh air," Dean grumbled.

"Shouldn't she be back by now? I've been gone from the table for about half an hour, Dean," Sam said as concern started to creep into his voice.

As Dean caught on to what Sam was saying, his phone rang, with Caller ID saying it was you. He answered it, but on the line it was your captor instead. Dean demanded that they release you and promised that if you didn't make it out alive, he would personally slice off their heads.

"You don't scare me, Winchester. But I can smell the fear rolling off of her in waves, and it's so deeply satisfying. She's a feisty one, though, won't tell us where you are no matter how much pain we've put her in. Allow me to demonstrate," the vamp cackled with glee.

She came over to the middle of the room where you were tied to a chair. "Where are the Winchesters?" she demanded. "I'm not telling you squat," you snapped as you glared at your captors. The boys heard the sound of you being slapped across the face for your outburst.

"She's so uncooperative. Guess it's time to sample the merchandise," the vamp remarked. She could see you struggling against the ropes, so she slapped your face again. She tilted your head to the side and sank her fangs into your neck, causing you to cry out in pain. The boys could tell what was happening, and it was almost more than they could bear.

"Oh, boys, she tastes just as sweet as you'd expect. You have two hours before she becomes one of ours," the vampire retorted before disconnecting the call.

After the call ended, you heard her giving instructions to the other two on what to do when Sam and Dean showed up. Then she went back over to you. "Relax, sweetie, this is almost over. I promise that after the Winchester boys are dealt with, I'll put you out of your misery as well," she cackled as she walked away.

As soon as you were sure you were alone, small sobs shook your body, tears streaming unchecked down your face. You sent up a silent message to Castiel, hoping against hope that he was listening. If he was, then he could tell the boys where to find you, and you might have a prayer of seeing Sam again. All you wanted was one last opportunity to explain and maybe find the courage to tell him how you felt.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Back at the bunker, Sam was busy on his laptop, frantically trying to locate you. He thought back on the events of the past few weeks, and how tense it's been between the two of you. Regardless of what happened before, you were still an important part of his life, and he wanted that part back.

Dean brought in the bag of weapons and dropped it with a thud onto the map table. He leaned on the table with his palms flat on the surface and glared at his younger brother. "All right, Sam. I'm sick of this. There's something you need to know about that night," Dean started.

"Not now, Dean. I'm busy trying to find her through the GPS on her phone," Sam grumbled.

"Yes, now, Sam. That night outside her door, she wasn't talking about me. She was talking about you. That kiss you saw? She said--" Sam cut him off.

"Dean--" Sam started.

Dean slammed his hand on the table, causing Sam to jump in his chair. "She said that if you were standing in front of her at that very moment, she would kiss you," he finished. "It's YOU she loves, Sam. For her, it's always been you," Dean said softly.

Sam paused in his search efforts to consider what his brother was saying. Was it possible that he misinterpreted what he saw that night? If so, then all the tension and animosity was his fault, and he had to make it right with you. He only hoped time was on their side and he would have that opportunity.

A whoosh of wings was heard and Castiel appeared in the bunker, a grim look on his face. He had heard your prayer and told the boys where to find you. Cas also gave them a description of the place so they could formulate a rescue plan on their way.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The female vamp returned to the room to see if she could get any more information out of you. If not, she said she was fine with inflicting more pain on you. She didn't get the chance to start anything, though. One of her lieutenants came rushing in to tell her that Sam and Dean had been spotted. They all knew that Castiel was likely not far behind, but he hadn't been seen yet.

At the mention of his name, you felt a light touch on your shoulder. "Cas? Is that you?" you whispered. You felt a quick squeeze of your shoulder and relaxed a bit, knowing that Sam and Dean were at least aware of your location. The female vamp leaned down next to your other ear and murmured, "Not quite done with you yet, dearie. I'll be back soon."

As soon as they were out of the room, Castiel made himself visible and started to untie your ropes. "Thank you, Cas. I wasn't sure I'd ever see you again," you mumbled as you drifted out of consciousness.

"Shh, just take it easy. I'll have you out of these ropes in no time," Cas replied. Off to his right, he heard heads hitting the floor and knew that there were no more threats.

Sam was the first one through the door and rushed to your side. He checked for your pulse and was relieved to find that you were only unconscious. His heart sank at the sight of the injuries inflicted on you by the vamps, and instantly blamed himself. As soon as you were free of your restraints, Sam scooped you up in his arms and carried you to the Impala.

In the backseat of the Impala, Dean helped secure you in Sam's waiting embrace. He held you to his chest and whispered soothing words in your ear as Dean raced back to the bunker. He was almost afraid to let go, as if you would disappear if he did. Sam silently promised you that once you woke up, he would tell you about his feelings for you.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You awoke to find that you were in a bed in the infirmary, and were no longer wearing the clothes you had on at the bar. You were now wearing your sleep shorts and a T-shirt. One of Sam's T-shirts. You looked over to your left and saw Sam's lanky frame draped uncomfortably over a chair next to your bed.

When you tried to move your left hand, you saw it was perfectly entwined with Sam's larger hand. This small movement caused Sam to jolt awake and his eyes seemed to automatically lock on yours. "Hey," Sam said with a soft smile.

"Hey, Sam," you croaked. Sam handed you a glass of water to relieve your parched throat. "How long have I been out?" you asked.

"About a day and a half. I was so worried, I thought I'd lost you," Sam replied, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand. "Cas healed what he could with his limited grace, so you'll still have some healing to do on your own," Sam explained.

"Thank you for rescuing me, but I'll be fine now. You don't have to worry anymore, I can take care of myself from here. Don't let me keep you from your girlfriend," you remarked.

A puzzled look crossed Sam's face. "I don't have a girlfriend," he replied.

"Yes, you do. That brunette from the bar. I saw how the two of you were looking at each other that night," you answered. You pulled your hand from Sam's hold and swung your legs over the side of the bed. At the doorway, you turned to face Sam, who was still sitting beside your bed. "I hope she makes you happy, Sam," you said softly.

Sam couldn't believe what just happened. You had let him go, more concerned for his happiness than your own. What you didn't know is what made him happy was being with you. "Wait!" he called after you, running to catch up.

He found you resting against a chair in the War Room, trying to catch your breath before continuing on to your room. "Listen, I owe you an apology about that night you and Dean came home from the bar. I got angry because I had finally found someone that I want. When I saw you kiss him I thought, as usual, she chose my brother over me. That's why I snapped at you that morning," he explained.

"I know, Sam, because Dean and I talked about it at the bar. I wanted to clear the air with you, so I got up from the booth and looked for you. That's when I saw you with her, your new girlfriend," you replied.

"For the record, she's not my girlfriend," he firmly stated. Sam reached up and caressed your cheek with his knuckles. He drew you closer to him with his free hand on the back of your neck. "How could she be, when I'm in love with someone else?" he asked softly. Sam inched forward until your lips meshed together in a sweet, tender kiss.

"Oh, Sam," you whispered.

"Baby....," Sam responded as he dove in to capture your lips for another, deeper kiss. You melted into the embrace of his strong arms and surrendered to the feel of his hands roaming up and down your back. Your hands slid up his well-defined chest and continued until your fingers were threading through Sam's hair.

When the kiss was broken, you and Sam touched your foreheads together and grinned at each other. "You're the one who makes me happy. I love you," Sam remarked softly.

"I love you, Sam. It's always been you," you replied.

Sam's thumb gently caressed your face as his hand cupped your cheek. He drew you into another lingering kiss that left you breathless. He carefully scooped you up into his arms and placed you on the bed in his room. The blankets were already pulled back and he arranged them up and around you. Then he slipped into bed beside you and drew you into his embrace.

"No more cuddling with a pillow anymore, pretending that it's me. You've got the real thing now," he remarked. "I love you, Baby."

"I love you too, Sam. Sweet dreams," you murmured.

#sam winchester #sam x reader #spn imagines #spn fluff

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jessmt · 4 years

Text

I won’t go (until you come outside)

Since I’m on such a roll this week and both of my classes got cancelled this morning, I decided to write another Jesslake fic that’s been bouncing around in my head for a little while.

Summary: Lake finally chalks it up to tell Jesse what happened on the train when they were forcibly separated.

Notes: Check Yes, Juliet by We The Kings is a cute song and the theme of running away together and never looking back fits these two pretty well. So I wrote a fic loosely inspired by it.

Also, I thought it would be pretty cute if Lake gave him a nickname. She calls him "Jess" because it sounds cute and I said so.

AO3

Normal.

Her entire life, Lake never had any proper definition for the word. Her entire life, all of her decisions had been made for her. What she’s allowed to wear, where she’s allowed to go, when she’s allowed to sleep, when she’s allowed to eat. Sure, Tulip may have been a pretty average person for the most part, but it wasn’t normal. Forcing herself to stay up until 4:30 in the morning so Tulip can fix the bug in her code or wearing those pointless chrome glasses or eating those stupid onions she didn’t even like wasn’t normal.

Living someone else’s life wasn’t normal.

She’s lucky Tulip was so understanding. Well, Lake supposes she had to be, since up until that point they had essentially been two different copies of the same person. But she didn’t feel that way. She felt and still feels and will never stop feeling like she is her own individual person. And the moment she took her first step out of the “Chrome Car”, as Tulip had called it, she was sure that was the end of it. She could be whoever she wanted to be, go wherever she wanted to go, wear whatever she wanted to wear.

But of course the Flecs had to develop new software that allowed them to chase escapees from car to car. If she had known about that she would’ve stolen it to escape the car years ago. Not that it mattered much anyway, because as long as they weren’t trailing directly behind her then the only way they’d be able to find her was through some random reflective surface that happened to be lying around, which was a surprisingly difficult find in a good majority of the cars she’d been through.

And for months at a time, she was convinced she’d found her normal. Most cars she only passed through, but other cars, those that provided beds and food and something to drink (just as long as it wasn’t water), she’d stay in those for weeks at a time. She felt grass under her feet for the first time in a train car, she saw a real life tree in a train car, and she even experienced rainfall in a train car. And as far as she was concerned, she had the best life she could ever imagine. She never considered herself a “denizen”, because she never wanted to live her life in someone else’s shadow ever again. And if that meant self-isolation, then so be it. She didn’t need companionship, because all companionship did was slow her down.

But then Jesse came along.

And so went her definition of normal.

She had tried to separate herself from him. She had tried to wave him off, tried to take Alan Dracula as her only companion and go. But in the end, nothing she tried ever worked.

He saw something in her that nobody else did.

She knew he had an opportunity to turn her over to the Flecs. She knew he considered it. But he chose not to. He stood up for her in a way nobody had since Tulip freed her. He liked her for her, not just as someone helping him escape the train but as her own person.

She had never even considered the possibility of leaving the train until she met him. But it was all the time she spent with him that she realized that when she’d escaped from the mirror realm that all she’d fled to was an even larger prison.

He was the only person who’d ever promised not to leave her behind. Tulip couldn’t even make that promise. He never showed any signs that he’d been lying, never gave her a goodbye. He developed the habit of taking her hand in his own to assure she was still by his side, and Lake in turn developed the habit of giving his hand a squeeze to assure him that she wasn’t going anywhere. He grabbed her hand every time they fled from the Flecs, or every time a door opened, and it grew to become a comforting gesture for Lake.

He never let go. Even when they were forced apart at his exit door, he never let go. Their hands were interlocked until the moment he faded away into nothing, and even then he broke the very physics of the train itself by refusing to let go, refusing to leave until she was able to come with him. All the time she had spent fighting for him, she had no idea he was on the other side fighting for her as well.

She’s M.T, she can take care of herself, but I made a promise.

They finally got their exit together. And it was staring into her own reflection in that lake, and feeling that sunshine on her face, and Jesse’s hand on her shoulder that made her realize she had finally, finally found her real normal.

Nothing could compare to the euphoria she felt when they were walking back to Jesse’s house. She could hear birds, actual birds, not weird talking parakeets that needed her help to build their giant nest, or something, actual birds! And the wind, and the traffic, and the sky was an actual color, not that depressing shade of brownish-orange it always was on the train. It’s a miracle they ever got to Jesse’s house at all with Lake stopping to check something out every ten seconds. Not that Jesse minded at all, because there had been multiple times where Lake had caught him staring at her with an affectionate twinkle in his eyes.

After that initial adrenaline rush faded, everything slowed to a peaceful calm. Jesse convinced his mom to convert their guest room into Lake’s room “until further notice”, which she quickly settled into. She registered as a new student at the local high school online, and choosing classes was just a combination of what she’d already known from Tulip and what simply caught her eye.

Everything fell into a pattern. And for once in her life, she was happy with that.

Wake up, go to school, eat lunch, come home, hang with Jesse, explore the neighborhood, do homework, watch movies, go to bed. It’s simple, it’s repetitive, it’s home. The only thing that ever differs in her schedule other than weekends is when she’d have to take the bus home without Jesse when he had swim practice, but admittedly it was nice to have that time to herself.

Take right now, for example. She’s just lying on her bed with her hands behind her head watching her ceiling fan swirl around. She likes to be alone with her thoughts, contrary to popular belief, because they really tend to keep her in the moment. Having her own complex thoughts validates her and tells her that she’s here, and she’s her own human being.

...Until there’s a light tap against her window, which doesn’t make sense because her room is on the second floor. She stands up to investigate, and she’s ready to dismiss it as a bird or a bug that must’ve bumped into it when a number of tiny pebbles tap against the window again. Baffled, she opens the window to look and see who could possibly be throwing rocks at her window.

“That worked?” She can hear Jesse exclaim, but he clears his throat when he realizes she probably heard that. “Lake! Down here!”

She snorts, leaning her elbow against the windowsill. “Hi Jesse” she shouts back, and looks over her shoulder at the clock sitting on her nightstand reading 8:46pm. “I thought you had swim practice”

“I did! It just ran later than usual because competition is coming up soon” he shouts back, and runs a hand through his hair to expel any extra water as if he’s trying to prove to her that he’s not lying. “You should, uh, you should come outside! It’s really nice out. I’m not even shivering”

Lake smirks, rolling her eyes at him. “And you wanted to ask me that by shouting up at my window? Isn’t this your house?”

She can practically see Jesse blush from where she sits at her window. “Well, yeah, but I wanted to look cool! Tossing rocks at someone’s window is like, the most romantic gesture ever”

Lake laughs. “I’m swooning”, she teases, dramatically bringing her wrist to her forehead.

Jesse shoves his hands in his pocket and glances to the ground, a sure sign he’s probably blushing even harder. “It’s a serious offer, you know!” he mumbles just loud enough for her to hear. “It’s beautiful out.” He offers his hand out to her, and the gesture makes her blush.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming”, she replies in mock annoyance, warmth in her tone giving her true nature away. She slides her window the rest of the way open, climbs onto the windowsill, and wiggles around until she’s hanging out of the window by her hands. Once her arms stop shaking from holding her own weight up, she lets go and lands on her feet. She turns around to face Jesse, and throws her arms up in the air in a victorious pose.

He smiles. “You could’ve just gone out the front door, y’know. Mom isn’t that strict about us leaving the house”.

She shrugs. “Yeah, but it’s like you said. I wanted to look cool”.

This time Jesse’s the one laughing, and he offers his hand out to her again. “Well?”

She blushes. Dammit, he shouldn’t be this cute, and intertwines her hand in his. “Well what? You’re the one who called me out here, you dork”

“Well, where do you wanna go?” he rubs at the back of his head. “The ice cream parlor closes in ten minutes, so I don’t think we could get there even if Mom let me borrow her car”.

Lake laughs. “How romantic, borrowing your Mom’s car for me” she teases. “Who says we have to go anywhere in particular? You said it yourself. It’s a beautiful night. Why don’t we just go for a walk?”

Jesse gasps, his eyes twinkling. “Travel friends?”

Lake rolls her eyes and leans in to kiss Jesse on the cheek. “I think we’re a little more than that by now, Jess.”

Jesse grins. “I know. It’s just a catchy song”.

“Nerd.”

Jesse shrugs in a what-are-you-gonna-do-about-it sort of manner before he taps at his chin to think about where they could possibly go. “Well…” he starts. “I think there should be a nature trail near that lake we ended up at, and I think….people are known to occasionally spot a family deer over there, you wanna walk around there a bit?” he pauses. “Or is that too familiar?”

Lake gives his hand a little squeeze. “Pssh, nah, that sounds perfect. You know how I am with exploring”.

He’s looking at her with that soft, affectionate look in his eyes again, and gives her hand a squeeze back. “Perfect.” he says, and begins to lead the way, but it isn’t long before they’re walking side by side. The walk to the lake isn’t as long as she remembers it being, but she supposes she could chalk that up to the adrenaline she’d felt the first time she was here. Once there, she stops to look at her reflection in the lake, and this time Jesse’s is standing beside her. He takes his hand from her, only to wind his arm around her shoulder and give her a kiss on the cheek. She rolls her eyes at him, but just before he can turn his head away from her she quickly leans in and gets him on the lips.

“C’mon,” she gestures. “We could be here all night”.

He blushes violently. “Right, right…” he murmurs, and leads the way to the entrance of the nature trail. It’s larger than Lake was expecting, apparently looping all the way around the back end of the cul de sac and back to the lake. She doesn’t know what Jesse could’ve possibly meant by calling the trail “too familiar”, because it’s nothing in comparison even to the Forest Car where they met. Everything feels real, everything smells real, everything just is real. She could never get her boots muddy or dirty in that or any other car on that godforsaken train because they couldn’t even program mud properly.

“You okay?” Jesse asks after a few moments, startling her out of her thoughts.

“Huh? Why do you ask?”

Jesse blushes, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his head. “Well, you weren’t saying anything, and I was gonna assume you were just enjoying yourself, but you were kinda….staring off into space. So I figured I’d ask. No big deal”

Lake shrugs. “Nah, it’s okay. Thanks for asking. I’m fine, I’ve just been...well, thinking about the train”.

Jesse stops in his tracks. “You have?”

Lake shakes her head, and shakes her hand around in self-defense. “It’s no big deal, really, I’m just...really glad to be as far away from that thing as possible”.

Jesse steps forward and sits down on a fallen tree in the middle of the path, patting at the spot beside him to invite her to sit next to him. “It sounds like a pretty big deal to me”.

She smiles, a blush tinting her cheeks, and takes the seat beside him. “It doesn’t bother me anymore, trust me” she folds her hands together. “I’m getting much better at looking into reflective surfaces, and I don’t get snappish at people who look at me funny as often as I used to.” She turns to look at him. “But I just can’t stop thinking about how ever since I got here with you I’m realizing how much of a living hell that train was”

She turns her gaze up towards the treetops. “I don’t think I ever told you what it was like when you were forced to leave without me.” She brings her knees up to her chest. “It was awful. I was so afraid I was never going to see you again. Everyone was saying it was pointless, that you would move on without me, that I was never getting off the train, I wasn’t my own person, blah blah blah” she dismissively waves a hand in the air.

“But you came back for me, Jesse, because you cared about me. Nobody’s ever come back in the history of the train, not for me, not for anything.” She laughs, and punches him in the arm as lightly as she can. “You gave the train a mental breakdown. You gave it the very problem it’s programmed to fix in everyone else, all because…what?”

Jesse smiles. “I made a promise.”

“Exactly!” Lake exclaims. “You made a promise you were so heartbroken to break just because you wanted to be able to see me every day.” She looks down at the forest floor. “...just so I could experience mud, and twigs, and all these things you don’t even notice because you’ve just had them your entire life”.

Jesse snorts. “Well I’d sure hate for my girlfriend to miss out on the amazing wonders of mud.”

“You know what I mean”.

“I know” Jesse smiles, kicking his feet back and forth. “I just...couldn’t go home until I knew you were coming with me. Flecs or no Flecs, I could tell you seemed pretty miserable”.

Now Lake finds herself blushing violently. “That’s….incredibly sweet of you”.

Jesse hums. “Not as incredible as you”.

Lake snorts. “Dork”.

Jesse stands up from the fallen tree, brushing his pant legs off and offering Lake his hand to help her up. “Ah ah, your dork”.

She takes him up on that offer, intertwining his hand in her own as she stands. “You won’t be for long if you keep that up”.

Jesse blushes. “Sorry.”

Lake laughs, and brings a hand to Jesse’s face and turns it towards her to make him look at her. “Jess, I’m kidding” she says, and kisses him softly on the lips. “I love you too”.

#jesslake #infinity train #infinity train book 2 #infinity train lake #infinity train jesse #my writing

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fuckingthefictional · 4 years

Text

Cross my heart- Part 15

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OFC, John Shelby (platonic) x OFC

Warnings: Talk of sexual assault, semi smut.

A/N: Enjoy a long ass chapter, that hasn’t been proofread and it probably crap!

Previous//Next

“What the fuck do you mean she was attacked?”

“John calm down.”

“No I will not fucking ‘calm down’!”

“John your shouting isn’t helping the situation at all.”

“But Pol-“

“Don’t ‘but Pol’ me John, that girl was attacked and nearly raped! Your shouting is not helping the situation one bloody bit.”

Eliza listened from her spot on the sofa, her body ached and her memories were still intense and raw from the previous night.

Her eyes felt heavy and she felt bleary. Eliza wanted nothing more than to sink into the cushions of the sofa and just disappear.

There was a great deal of pacing coming from the kitchen, which she assumed could only be John’s.

Eliza wished she could’ve told him in a normal way, like she did with all her troubles- over a glass of scotch. That he didn’t discover the events of the night before in such a horrible way.

Her heart pounded rapidly in her chest, her entire body felt as if it were in shackles. Like she had her hands tired- as if there was no escape from this dark backstreet

She could feel ever grope, every unwanted kiss, she could hear every single taint and harsh laughter.

She felt cold and exposed where her clothes had been forcibly removed and the fearful tremble in her body refused to go away.

It felt as if she was helpless, there was nothing she could do. Like she was watching herself be pushed around and assaulted in the most cruel ways from the outside.

And then he came, cigarette burning and the soft glow of the ashy embers as they were flicked off onto the mud caked floor.

The man who had a red right hand in his pocket and a peaky cap perched on his head and she could see the blades tucked away, still glinting occasionally in the soft glow of the nicotine filled stick.

At long last she felt her knees hit the floor, as she simultaneously heard begging and screams of pain. Her hands were stained in blood and the screams got louder and louder until they just...stopped.

“Liza?” A frantic voice was calling to her, she felt like she was being shaken, “Liza wake up!”

She woke with a start, shooting up and rocking back and forth. Eliza felt someone attempt to hold her, but after the previous night she attempted mercilessly to escape whoever was touching her. She thrashed and tried to break free, but they held on.

Eliza was sure she was crying now, her voice croaked and cracked as she attempted to cry out in some sort of attempt at being rescued.

A small part of Eliza’s mind knew she was safe, that nobody was trying to hurt her. In any other situation she would relax into the embrace and find comfort. But this- this was to much to handle.

“Let her go Johnny boy-“

“Tom what the fuck is going on?”

“I’ll explain in a minute- just go through to the kitchen, aye an’ I’ll sort this.”

“Yer out ‘yer mind if yer think I’m leaving her here with you.”

There was a small pause, before the sound of retreating footsteps were heard by Eliza.

“Liza, open yer eyes for me.”

She slowly cracked open an eyelid, almost afraid of what she might find. Her vision was blurred as she burst into floods of tears at the sight of Tommy kneeled besides her.

“I- I thought-“ Eliza tried to explain, but couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

“You are safe.” Tommy couldn’t express the words hard enough it seemed, his gaze pierced into Eliza. He continued on leaning closer to prove is point, “I will keep you safe, my family will make sure you’re safe- I never want ye’ to live in fear Liza.”

Eliza just nodded, tears soaking his shoulder as he gently combed through a few stray locks of her hair.

She could feel gentle lips brush her forehead, a huge contrast to the violating ones that she had been forced to receive the night before.

“I just need time.” Eliza tried to reassure herself, “the wound will heal with time.”

“An’ I’ll be with you every step of the way, I promise you that much.”

“Just don’t go breaking my heart along the way.”

“As long as you don’t hurt mine either.”

Life was a struggle to get back to normal for Eliza, she went back to work a few days after the bruises had healed up.

Routine practically kept her sane the following weeks after the incident.

She’d wake up at six in the morning, fix Harry his breakfast and then meet Tommy outside the Garrison for seven. He would then walk her to the schoolhouse and wait with Eliza in her classroom until the children started to line up outside- she’d teach for the day and then be picked up by Tommy or John (and occasionally Arthur) where they’d walk back to watery lane and Eliza would stay until it nine helping with homework and bedtime routines. After a long day she’d walk with the Peaky men back to the Garrison where she’d go on shift.

By the end of the day Eliza usually felt exhausted enough to close her eyes without fearing the makeshift movie full of her past memories.

Routine worked.

Until Tommy showed up at Eliza’s window on a Sunny Sunday. Sunday’s were the day that Eliza allowed her routine to include a lie in, so she could relax and recover before Monday came around.

But of course Tommy kept tapping on the glass panes of her window.

Eliza wanted to do nothing but turn over and stuff her head into her pillows- but she knew Tommy was incessant and would stop until she payed him attention.

So she rolled out of bed and unlatched the window, pushing it open slightly before making her way back to her bed and sliding under the warm covers.

“Liza?”

She grumbled in response.

“Ive got a surprise for you.”

“Is the surprise letting me sleep for another hour?” Eliza grumbled groggily, “because that would be appreciated.”

She could practically see his smirk in her mind, there was a small chuckle from behind and then Eliza felt the covers be ripped away from her body.

“Tommy!” She shot up, to see him stood above her with a smile on his face. Eliza liked seeing him happy.

“Get up, we’re goin’ out.”

Eliza sighed, “Fine.”

“Where are we going?”

They had been driving for what felt like hours, Tommy had driven them out of the city- and Eliza could admit that it felt good to get fresh air and not be inhaling the heavy black smoke.

Eliza felt free, like she was in the rolling fields that her childhood town in Ireland held.

Away from Birmingham she felt as if she could leave behind her problems, and focus on some of the finer details in life.

Like the dewy grass, or the way the wind brushed against her skin, or how Tommy’s hands would occasionally tap against the steering wheel, or how his eyes would light up more every time they passed a horse in a field.

Eventually Tommy parked at their supposed final destination, it wasn’t much- a field and paddock which held a few horses, and a stable with what appeared to be a riders hut attached to it.

“Where are we?” Eliza was lost in her own befuddlement.

“My stables.” He replied striking up a cigarette.

“But I thought you had a stable in Small Heath?”

“If you mean Uncle Charlie’s boat yard, then yes- but technically it’s not mine.” Tommy opened his side of the car door, before jogging round and opening Eliza’s side too, “Besides, I prefer it when the horses have a bit of fresh air- Small Heath don’t do their lungs any good.”

Eliza smiled at that comment. She’d gathered that Tommy had a soft spot for animals, especially horses.

“Let me rephrase my original question then.” Eliza giggled, “Why are we ‘ere?”

The young man stopped in his tracks, “To ride of course.” He began to walk besides her, linking there arms together, “Yer told me that you’d ride when you were in Ireland, growing up- that yer missed it.”

Her heart swelled at the fact that Tommy had remembered that conversation. Eliza found herself struggling to form proper sentences, so instead she just nodded in awe.

“Now come on pretty girl, the longer we talk ‘ere- the less ridin’ time we’ll have.”

Eliza raises a brow and smirked, she leaned in as their noses brushed slightly. She could’ve sworn she heard Tommy’s breath stop.

With a final breath she steadied herself, “Race you!” She screamed sprinting away as quickly as her skirts allowed her to.

Tommy looked dumbfounded for a second before he also took off running, chasing after her trying to reach the fence first.

It made him smile, seeing how childish and free Eliza could act.

Tommy was a damn good businessman- but if he knew one thing, it was that he was willing to follow Eliza to the end of the world.

When he was around Eliza, Grace was forgotten in his mind.

When Eliza was around, he felt a genuine happiness that he hadn’t felt since before the war.

“Hurry up old man!” Eliza called playfully from the top of the terrain, Tommy shook his head a laugh escaping his lips.

“I am not an old man, you cheeky little-“ he cut himself off, “I’m not even thirty yet!”

“Old.” She retorted back still laughing heartily.

“Liza you’re 3 years younger than me- you’re ‘old’ too.” Tommy bargained.

“Are you calling me old Mr Shelby?” Eliza teased

“Polly raised me to never call a lady old.” Tommy replied, it was true- he remembered when he called his teacher old and Polly came marching into the school and smacked him right around the head. It was clear that he hadn’t done it again.

He looked across to see Eliza gazing wistfully at the horses in the paddock.

“I’ve got the perfect horse for you to ride.”

Eliza turned to him, her interest clearly peaked, “A dappled grey mare.”

Tommy could see her eyes scan across the field, trying to find the horse he’d just mentioned. When she did, she gasped and began to walk over to the gate.

He followed behind her, watching as Eliza’s steps became more springy as she got more excited. Eliza’s laughter consumed the air as she reached her hand out to pat the horses nose.

Tommy hovered behind her, his breath lingered near her neck.

“You need a hand getting up?”

Eliza just nodded as he helped lift her body off of the floor, his calloused hands grazed her waist.

“Thanks.”

“No problem pretty girl.”

“Thank you for today Tommy- I’m thankful, really.”

Tommy stepped forward, tucking a few stray hairs behind her ears. They had ridden for a few hours and had just finished putting the horses back into the stables.

They were both mucky and had thin layers of sweat coating their skin.

“No issue at all Liza.”

“There must be a way I can repay you.” She was stood in front of him now, even closer than before.

“Well,” Tommy licked his lips, brushing against the younger woman’s face, “there is one thing you could do.”

Their gaze lingered on each other, before the tension became too much and they met in a hot searing kiss.

Tommy walked them back towards the support beams as he continued to kiss Eliza with as much passion as he could muster.

Eliza was tugging and grasping at his hair as their lips moved together in tandem.

“jump.” Tommy breathed as he braced her body against his as her hips clashed up against his groin.

It caused them both to moan with pleasure, as Eliza rolled her hips against his again and Tommy planted hot kisses across her chest.

They began to shed clothes as they navigated through the stables and to the pile of hay in the corner.

Curses and pants could be heard throughout the area.

However before it progressed Tommy had stopped, “Liza...are you sure you want this?” He felt like he was pushing her.

But Eliza just caressed the sides of his face, and sweetly pecked his lips with her own, “I need to feel like I’m back in control- there’s nobody else who could take care of me in this way, except for you Tommy.” She pressed their lips together again, “So for the love of God- fuck me already!”

TAGLIST:

@peachy-aisha @marvelschriss @eternallyvenus @captivatedbycillianmurphy @annabethgranger123 @shadow-of-wonder

#peaky fookin blinders #peakyblinders #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #cross my heart

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gluupor · 5 years

Note

Okay, first off I have to say that you are one of my favorite fic authors EVER, and most definitely my absolute FAVORITE andreil/aftg author. Your writing and characterization is absolutely AMAZING!!! I also have what I think might be an amazing fic idea for you: an andriel Ladyhawke!au, starring former captain of the guard Andrew who is a wolf by night, and Young Lord Neil who is a hawk or fox by day. And they were cursed by Riko

I haven’t ever actually seen this movie but I have read a stucky ladyhawke au and I skimmed the imdb page, so I’m basically an expert.

Kevin waited until he couldn’t hear any movement in the trees before he stopped pretending to sleep. He had to sneak away while the blond brute—Andrew, he’d finally admitted he was called—wasn’t watching him. He was mildly grateful that Andrew had seen fit to break him out of jail, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what the short yet intimidatingly muscular mercenary wanted with him.

He quickly surveyed the makeshift campsite for the awful raven that Andrew seemed to keep as a pet—a huge bird, as big as a cat, with a vicious-looking beak and unsettlingly intelligent eyes—but the bird had flown off into the surrounding forest at the same time that Andrew had left to patrol at sundown. Not that Kevin could see if the raven had returned in the dark; it could be watching him from the darkness for all he knew. It had spent most of the day perched on the pommel of Andrew’s saddle, sleeping with its head under its wing; it was probably wide awake and hunting.

Kevin had spent the first part of his day trapped in jail and awaiting the public flogging he’d been sentenced to—a sentence he’d received for little more than being a known associate of Prince Riko. He’d had no idea how much animosity the peasant folk in the outlying areas had toward the royal family. Kevin had come to the town looking for refuge, cradling his shattered hand (a parting gift from the livid prince) against his chest, on his way to Palmetto. He’d only found anger and hostility.

The second part of his day had begun with Andrew showing up outside of his jail cell, keys in hand and no sign of the jailer with him. He was dressed all in black and had a massive raven perched on his shoulder. His face was impassive but he held the bearing of a trained guard and Kevin had thought for a wild moment that Riko had sent someone to rescue him. His theory was quickly disabused as Andrew bound him with rope, dragged him out of the jail, and lashed him to a horse, before mounting his own horse and hurrying them out of town. For the rest of the day, Andrew only said three sentences to him.

The first time Kevin managed to get a reaction out of him was when the raven briefly woke and idly circled Kevin a couple times before landing on his shoulder. Kevin tried to shy away from its talons.

“Sit still,” Andrew commanded.

Kevin swallowed nervously and obeyed. The raven peered at him curiously but made no move to peck out his eyes. “You stole this bird,” declared Kevin. All trained ravens belonged to the crown. Andrew didn’t reply. “Otherwise, how is it so well behaved?” pressed Kevin.

At that, Andrew snorted derisively but he still didn’t answer.

“You’re taking a stupid risk,” Kevin warned. “You’ll be flogged for stealing from the crown. The raven must be theirs.”

“No,” said Andrew quietly, “he isn’t. They only think he is.”

At that the raven quorked and took to the air. He circled above them for several minutes before coming to a rest in front of Andrew again. Andrew stroked its feathers almost reverently.

The only other thing that Kevin heard from him was when they stopped in a clearing for the night. Then he finally learned Andrew’s name and Andrew told him to get some sleep and stay in the campsite.

He didn’t know why Andrew took him or what he was planning on doing with him, but he wasn’t sticking around to find out.

He tiptoed out of camp, making it about three steps into the surrounding trees when he was halted in place by a low, menacing growl. All the hair on his body stood up straight and he narrowly avoided soiling himself as a large, blonde wolf stepped from the shadows into the light from the camp’s crackling campfire. Kevin’s blood ran cold and he took a cautious step back, wondering how long he had before the beast was on him. It was large for a wolf, its hulking shape standing higher than his hip and made of corded muscle.

“I’m pretty sure Andrew warned you to stay here,” said a low, amused voice from behind him.

Kevin whirled, keeping the wolf in his sights, to find a man he’d never seen before had appeared from nowhere and was now sitting on a log next to the fire, poking at it with a stick.

“Wha—Who—How—” he couldn’t gather his wits enough to form a full sentence.

“If you’re not going to sleep, then come sit,” offered the strange man. When Kevin didn’t move at first, he spoke again, more sharply, “Sit, Kevin.”

Kevin dumbly stumbled forward and sunk onto the ground beside the man. The wolf loped after him, brushing by Kevin’s side and making him shiver. The wolf lay at the man’s feet, nudging at the man’s hands.

“Yes, you’re very fearsome,” said the man as he scratched behind the wolf’s ears.

“Who are you?” Kevin managed to stutter.

“I’m Neil,” said the man, his attention still on the wolf, “Andrew’s travelling companion.”

“I didn’t see you before,” protested Kevin, watching with wide eyes as the wolf settled with a huff, eyes falling closed in pleasure at Neil’s ministrations.

“I’m good at camouflaging myself,” said Neil, sounding amused again. “I saw you, though.”

“That’s less comforting than you think.”

“Maybe I wasn’t trying to be comforting.”

Kevin grimaced. “Is that wolf yours?” he asked, still watching it warily.

“He’s his own,” said Neil.

“But he obeys you?”

“Only if I ask nicely,” answered Neil enigmatically. “He won’t let any harm come to me—or you, as long as you cooperate.”

“Cooperate with what?” demanded Kevin, more than ready for some answers.

“You are Lord Kevin Day, formerly the head of Prince Riko’s personal guard, are you not?” asked Neil.

Kevin didn’t reply; his former title hadn’t granted him any favours recently.

Neil didn’t seem to need his confirmation. “You know the layout of Castle Evermore like the back of your hand. You know the way in, guard shifts, secret passages…”

“So what?” asked Kevin suspiciously, already seeing where this was going. Riko might have turned on him but he wasn’t about to betray the rest of the royal family.

“So we need to get in.”

“Why?”

Neil only smiled at him, a sharp, cruel smile that sparked recognition in Kevin’s hindbrain. He’d seen that exact smile before, on an older face that had always terrified him.

“Butcher,” he breathed out.

The wolf was on its feet immediately with a warning growl. Neil tensed before forcibly relaxing. “No,” he said, putting a calming hand on the wolf’s flank.

“But you are, aren’t you?” insisted Kevin. “The son of Lord Nathan Wesninski, the King’s Butcher?”

Neil paused, watching his fingers twine in the wolf’s coat. “I was,” he admitted reluctantly.

“But everyone knows you’re dead!” exclaimed Kevin.

Neil punched him in the shoulder.

“Ow,” muttered Kevin, rubbing it sullenly.

“Does it feel like I’m dead?” asked Neil. “No, I’m very much alive, but go ahead and tell me what ‘everybody knows’.”

“You were betrothed to Prince Riko,” started Kevin when it became clear that Neil was serious in his request, “but one of your guards fell in love with you. When you made it clear that you loved only Riko, he…didn’t take no for an answer.” The wolf, who had settled down after his aggression, started growling again. Neil shushed it and stroked its head. “He, uh,” Kevin cleared his throat awkwardly, “he killed you and then himself so that Riko could never have you.”

“And this is what everyone knows?” said Neil dryly. “Riko has more imagination than I suspected. It is true that my guard fell in love with me—but I fell in love with him right back.” The wolf hmphed contentedly and laid its giant head across Neil’s lap. “And I never felt anything but contempt for Riko; who could?”

Kevin felt almost compelled to argue, before he stretched out his wounded hand and kept silent. “So you ran away? You and your guard? Where is he?”

Neil gave him a look that made him feel two inches tall. “You remember Andrew, right? Blond guy, broke you out of jail today?”

“Oh,” said Kevin stupidly. He couldn’t imagine Andrew as the dashing hero that had caused Nathan Wesninski’s only son to run away in a fit of love.

Neil rolled his eyes. “And we didn’t quite get away unscathed. Riko had his revenge.”

“He does that,” said Kevin in a strangled voice.

“What do you know about curses?” asked Neil.

Kevin started at the seeming non-sequitur. “Not much.”

“Did you know that the easiest way to break a curse is to kill the caster?”

“I—” Kevin cut himself off, realization hitting him. “That’s why you want to break into Castle Evermore. That’s why you need me; I know how to get to Riko’s chambers. He put you under some kind of curse? Is that why I couldn’t see you before?”

“Yes.”

“I won’t do it,” declared Kevin. “I won’t go back there, ever. For any reason.”

Neil hummed thoughtfully. “Where were you going?” he asked.

“What?”

“When you were sneaking out of camp, where were you going? Or were you just going to wander aimlessly?”

“I…I was going to Palmetto,” admitted Kevin. “Lord Wymack will give me sanctuary.”

“Alright then,” said Neil, leaning forward. His eyes glittered in the light from the fire. “We have a deal for you. Get us into Castle Evermore and we’ll protect you. No one will hurt you ever again. And once we’re finished, we’ll deliver you safely to Palmetto.”

“…What if I say no?” asked Kevin.

The wolf lifted its head and gave Kevin what appeared to be a grin, showing all its pointy teeth.

“Wouldn’t you rather be on our side?” asked Neil lightly.

“Are you sure Andrew will agree? Where is he, anyway?”

Neil grinned and looked down at the wolf. “He’s around. He’s protecting the camp. And he’ll protect you, if you agree to our deal.”

“And the wolf? He won’t hurt me?”

“You’re safe from the wolf and the raven as well.” There was something in his voice that Kevin couldn’t identify. “As long as you help us.”

“Help you kill the prince,” Kevin pointed out.

“Do you have a problem with that?”

He would have, up until very recently. But Riko had become increasingly erratic ever since his betrothed had been killed (or run away, apparently) and was becoming a danger to all around him. Kevin’s own injury had occurred as he’d tried to curb the prince from murdering innocents. In his heart of hearts, Kevin knew he had to be stopped. He shook his head once. “I’ll help you,” he whispered.

“Good,” said Neil, looking pleased. “You should get some rest; I’ll keep watch.” His words seemed to be more aimed at the wolf than at Kevin, but that was absurd. Kevin was probably just imagining things after his hectic day.

“Okay,” he said, standing and brushing himself off. “Goodnight,” he said around a yawn.

“Sleep,” said Neil. “We have a long road ahead of us.”

#aftg #tfc #andreil #neil josten #andrew minyard #kevin day #my fic #bits #cw allusion to rape #cw allusion to murder #cw allusion to suicide #anon #asks

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clexaisheretostay · 5 years

Text

Save Me From Myself

Summary: It’s been months since Lena found out about Kara lying through Lex and Kara had known something was wrong between them afterwards. Lena had made every excuse under the sun to avoid her since and Kara wasn’t dumb, she knew, she suspected the reason for Lena’s recent behavior. Now, nearly half a year since their relationship became so strained Lena hadn’t seen Kara in half that time, Kara lands on Lena’s balcony after solar flaring and being shot out of the sky by a sniper ready for her. Blood smeared everywhere and Kara didn’t have the strength to move as Lena came rushing over to a dying Kara.

Will Lena ever forgive Kara when her life isn’t in danger? If she’s on her death bed, is that the only time Lena will willingly see her, Kara wonders as she lays on the ground with a pale Lena trying to get her to safety behind her bulletproof office windows. Maybe they could have been more if she had just told Lena her secret and her feelings, instead of this limbo they were in. Lena saving Kara’s life while Kara was trying so hard to stay dead, to linger in a state near death.

I decided to post this angsty post reveal fic with a because I’m a freaking masochist. Let me know what you all think. Song for this fic by Sistar is https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3U_H3dt4hWg Please give it a listen because their vocals are amazing and sets the tone for the entire chapter so freaking well. Also, if anyone is willing to donate to help support me since I’m seriously short on rent money please support me at Ko-Fi.com/himemiyahikaru

姫宮光る

Chapter 1

I Just Miss You

My days without you, I can’t focus on anything

Never, no more

Even if I regret it, everything is over

I don’t even have the confidence to turn this around

You kindly come to me and shake me again

Oh no, oh no

Stop holding onto my heart

Only looking at you and crying for you seems foolish

Oh no, oh no

This is not love

Six months since Lena had started acting strange. No, not strange really. Just plain old avoiding Kara’s every call, text, and surprise visits that ended up not being a visit. Visits implied you were seen by the person you were trying to actually see. It implied you had spent some amount of time together. Despite being best friends … Lena and Kara had not spent more than an hour with each other since Lena started avoiding her and giving reasons for why she couldn’t see Kara. Kara’s chest ached when she thought about it too long, her lungs felt stuck with emotion, and her eyes became wet no matter how hard she tried not to let it show. The disappointment was slowly turning into painful understanding. She had waited too long and either someone else had told Lena or Lena had figured it out on her own at this point. And it hurt so much to realize that all of the wasted chances she’d had over the years meant losing the one person who meant the most to her outside of her family … well, Lena had been family at one point. Kara was probably enemy number one now instead of the person Lena would turn to for comfort any time something happened and shook her world like Jack’s passing, Lillian’s betrayal, and the countless other things that had happened to her.

Love, I pretend that I’m fine

That I don’t love you even though I do

I can’t do it

Crying, crying

Love, I try to take it back

But you’re already gone

I’m endlessly

Crying, crying

Kara took a shaky breath and looked around at her empty apartment. There were no more game nights without Lena because she was her perfect partner during every game night … until she left. And no more movie nights unless Alex came over and forcibly fed Kara food while attempting to watch the horror movies that they used to just love making fun of for poor plots or dumb decisions. No, nothing was the same without Lena there. Food tasted like the ashes of her home planet, colors looked dull without Lena’s beauty to appreciate things and make everything more beautiful and brighter, living was the same as being dead when you found you had nothing to find any amount of joy in doing.

I open my eyes and after coming to my sense,

You’re not here

I rub my eyes and look around, but you’re not here

I close my eyes again and open them

But still,

You’re not here

I thought I would be fine without you

But I keep looking back at our memories

Tears and memories spill out as if I’m vomiting

Everything is over, stop, for you and for me

Would Lena ever come back here again? It was a miserable existence without Lena to make everything better in Kara’s life. Even pot stickers tasted better when they were from Lena. Now everything was bland and muted, like a world without color, sound, and everything was tasteless, a world in which she could only perceive things through touch alone. It made her life feel worse than dull. She’d prefer it if her life were just boring rather than this world of grief because she was grieving, grieving the end of the relationship she had with the person she loved more than anything in the world. The one person who had made her better. Kara would give anything to get it all back, to get Lena to come back and be with her again.

No one at work suspected a thing was wrong because Kara still left for her supposed hour-long lunch breaks, but just spent the time writing her articles above the clouds where no one could see her if she occasionally broke down crying where no one could see her even with a telescope or binoculars. When she came back from supposedly eating, no one would bat an eyelash at her, give her a second look to see her eyes were just a bit puffy, and she made sure that her eyes were no longer red-rimmed and that none of her makeup was running. Having glasses to hide behind had never been so convenient.

And then something else added to her stress. It had been a long time coming though. Kara was asked to go interview Lena about some new technology unfolding. Despite Kara’s assertions that someone else might be better suited, Snapper insisted she go since she was friends with Lena. Kara had almost broken down and just said that he forgot to add that she had been Lena’s friend and that it was no longer the case at the moment. She almost said that they hadn’t even spoken directly for over three months now. But no, she held her tongue and requested an interview with Lena through Jess. Surprisingly, Lena had accepted apparently and the entire time had been stilted and restricted to work-related topics only. Kara hadn’t been surprised by that. And then as Kara was getting up to leave, feeling cold inside even though she had never experienced cold on earth before, Lena asked if she was feeling okay because she looked a little pale and thinner than Lena remembered.

With the fakest smile Kara had ever given anyone she said she was fine. That smile wobbled and cracked like Kara’s heart. Kara wasn’t sure if Lena had meant to say it out loud, but Kara heard it, the single word that reminded her of happier times between them, “liar,” she’d said. But this time, it wasn’t under the same context as when she’d been grief baking two years ago. Kara pretended she hadn’t heard that more than likely slipup and told Lena goodbye. She left before Lena could say anything else and felt an unusual throbbing in her chest when she turned her back on Lena and practically flew out the building with how quickly she was walking away. Kara spared a single second to tell Jess to have a nice day over her shoulder before the door had even slammed shut with her haste. It was probably obvious she wasn’t quite human with how quickly she had moved to the elevator but, again, why did Kara care if either of these people knew her secret now? Lena obviously knew and Jess had probably suspected for some time because of how many times Kara had done something slightly less than human.

You kindly come to me and shake me again

Oh no, oh no

Stop holding onto my heart

Only looking at you and crying for you seems so foolish

Oh no, oh no

This is not love

Only Alex knew the reason why Kara was so desolate and despondent. James and Winn had obviously noticed the less than chipper Kryptonian but neither knew why Kara was the way she was and she didn’t have the strength to say the words out loud, that the relationship that had fulfilled her for years had come to a horrible end. No, saying something like that out loud would only make it real. Doing something that outwardly acknowledged it made it reality instead of something she could pretend was make believe. A nightmare only she was awake. The opposite of the Black Mercy, Red Mercy. Perhaps that would have been a lovely explanation for this. But no, it wasn’t the Red Mercy, it was Kara’s actions, or lack thereof. She knew it was her own fault she was experiencing this nightmare. If Kara could live in the world of the Black Mercy and die right now … she would. She’d take it over this pain.

Love, I pretend that I’m fine

That I don’t love you even though I do

I can’t do it

Crying, crying

Love, I try to take it all back

But you’re already gone

I’m endlessly

Crying, crying

Kara Danvers, synonymous to sunshine in Kryptonian form to those who knew her true identity was now more like the blackest night, no moon to reflect the light of the sun at night on earth’s surface. No more. Even though Kara hadn’t confirmed Lena’s reasons for becoming so distant, she had overheard it by accident one day when she had gone to talk to Lena after the first week of suffering near radio silence. “Never again will I trust you, Kara Danvers. I’ll never let you in again.” That had been the catalyst for Kara to begin to almost frantically reach out to her only to be pushed away even more than before, as if Lena knew what Kara was trying to do and she wanted nothing to do with her anymore. Perhaps there was more truth to that than Kara realized. Every call unanswered, every text message ignored, every attempt at a visit rejected, and the biggest surprise was that Lena hadn’t banned Kara from the office. Maybe that was just to keep things professional.

No, I’m not the me that I used to know

I know this is just a part of life

But every time I breathe

I hate you

What was life anyways? A collection of moments with those you come to care about as they fill your life with meaning? What was life when that meaning was taken away like it meant nothing at all to the other person then? Did life have any true meaning without someone to share it with? Life without Lena was meaningless to Kara now that she would never have her love again. It didn’t matter if they stayed friends forever.

I can’t sleep all night and I try to comfort myself

Saying it’s alright

But I can’t help it, I can’t take it back

I only have regrets that are too late

Deep bags were accruing under Kara’s eyes as she tossed and turned every night. She couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t smile genuinely. Was this what it meant to be sick? She had never experienced a human illness so she hadn’t experienced illness in nearly two decades. The closest she’d gotten to feeling sick was when Kryptonite was involved, but that was more of a poison than legitimate illness. Kara wouldn’t even care if someone had some Kryptonite and stabbed her clean through the chest with it right now. It would have been a relief from this bland life. No, it wasn’t even bland, it was just pointless now. What was her life without Lena? Everything Alex had done brought no comfort to the devastated person Kara had become.

I don’t mind so don’t cry

Love, you were different, you changed me

Now I think I know everything

No matter how much I push and shove you away

Only looking at you and crying for you seems so foolish

Everything about life had become heightened with Lena as a bright spot in her life and so the high ended with Lena leaving her. It was a worse crash than a drug addicted after they lost their high and needed more drugs to fulfill them again. Her first high was meeting Lena, her addiction was not being able to go a day without seeing her, and her crash left her in her lonely misery. Kara wasn’t sure when Alex was going to stop trying. She might never stop. But Kara couldn’t even feel it. Nothing was the same without Lena. Love had given her life more meaning than she knew was possible. So life without Lena was pointless. Life had no meaning without her.

Love, you were different, you changed me

Now I think I know everything

No matter how much I push and shove you away

You are my everything that can’t leave me

I wanna go back

I couldn’t love anyone but you

Anyone who knew Kara well would be able to see how much love had changed her. She had been content in life before, so she was happy and so bright. And then Lena came into her life looking like an angel on this earth. Everything became so much more with her there. And she felt true happiness then. She experienced euphoria and became exuberant. If anyone thought she had been a ray of sunshine before, it was nothing compared to her after Lena showed up and made Kara feel more than she thought was even possible.

When she dated Mon-El, it was with the thought that Lena didn’t see her that way. But she was still in her life and her rock, her gravity, her center. Every day without her was another day less than worth living for. How could Kara survive this long without that light in her life? Kara was surprised she hadn’t died yet from this heartbreak.

Everyday was dark and just as miserable as the last no matter how hard Alex tried to help her through. Nothing would ever be okay again. Not without her angel next to her and making her see light in everything. Alex had tried to joke that she thought she was the pessimist between them. Kara didn’t even smile. Just looked on blankly before saying “funny,” like she meant anything but that word. Alex was never going to stop, she was never going to give up on her sister but she was beyond frustrated and worried about this version of Kara dropping dead.

In a bid to figure out what exactly caused them to fall apart, Alex had gone to see Lena only to see that she didn’t seem to be doing much better than Kara was. Every question was answered with a non-answer, adding to Alex’s worry and utter frustration. She was at her wit’s end. Looking back on it, Alex realized that Lena must know the truth because she had been so cold. Honestly, Lena could have been worse. Probably knew that it wasn’t Alex’s place to tell her someone else’s secret, even if it was her sister’s secret. Lena hadn’t been cruel, just curt and evasive. That was so like her though, locking her feelings away in fucking little boxes.

Was there anything Alex could do to fix her sister’s broken life? Her broken heart wasn’t going to mend without Lena’s intervention. Lena was just as heartbroken and Alex didn’t know if she could do anything about that.

Kara’s powers blew out because these fucking Cadmus agents decided that having every alien weapon possible would have some desired effect on her eventually. There was some merit to that because it increased their chances of finding something that would work on her eventually. And it did work in sapping her of her strength and speed. She could still fly somehow and she used the last of her powers to get away when she was shot. Pain she had never felt before caused her to fall right out of the sky and, in a twist of fucking fate, right onto Lena’s balcony. She caused a loud thud as gravity pulled her down to earth. Kara must have passed out because the next moment she felt herself being dragged somewhere and she didn’t resist, wondering if those people were trying to finish her.

“Rao, in your light I was created and, in your light, I will go from this planet I was not born on,” Kara said, sounding weak in Kryptonese.

“Don’t you dare die Kara Danvers.”

“Let me go,” Kara’s voice was barely audible.

“Kara Danvers. Don’t you dare give up your life like this, do you hear me, Kara? Kara! Fuck!”

She must have blacked out again because the next moment she was somewhere that felt like a strong ray of sunlight but she couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes. If this was the afterlife … she was ready for her death. Rao was waiting for her to come back to him. Her father, Aunt Astra, Uncle Non … her lost Kryptonian family … they were waiting for her to come back. Even though she was still angry with Non, the after life was for forgiveness of all sins while you were alive, right?

“Wake the fuck up!” Was that Alex’s voice?

Kara wasn’t sure what she was doing in Rao’s light. Did Alex die too? Her heartbeat started going crazy and she felt herself slipping out of consciousness again when a warm hand touched her neck, pressing into her pulse and it warmed Kara, soothed her distraught, dying soul.

Alex was pacing back and forth where Kara lay, still a bloody mess from the gunshot wound that had punctured her through her stomach and cracked several ribs. Everything was a fucking mess and Lena was working through different treatments to make sure Kara didn’t die. Dr. Hamilton had removed the bullet and Alex had been sick when the woman had done it to an essentially human Kara. She held back the bile powered through what needed to be done to save her sister’s life as Lena did the same. Alex had been surprised with Lena’s urgent phone call but less so when she realized that Lena had an injured Kara with her somehow. None of the details mattered as long as Kara didn’t fucking die.

When had things become so fucked up? Alex continued pacing as she looked for things that might help her nearly dead sister.

#supercorp #fanfic #angst #au #slow burn #post reveal

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ayearofpike · 6 years

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Spooksville #13: Creature in the Teacher

UK title: Alien Invasion Pocket Books, 1996 114 pages, 12 chapters + epilogue ISBN 0-671-00261-9 LOC: CPB Box no. 507 vol. 2 OCLC: 35769024 Released November 1, 1996 (per B&N)

Sally warned her friends that the teachers at Horror Halls could be weird and frightening, but none of them are fully prepared for Mr. Snakol, the science teacher. It’s even worse when he informs them that they’ll be expected to kill and dissect animals pretty much every day, and those who object disappear mysteriously — including Sally. It’s down to the Spook Squad to figure out what is happening and how they might negotiate with Mr. Snakol, who, they quickly discover, is not of this earth but does want to find a home for his people, who are:

(And yeah, I took this picture in my own classroom. Who says I can’t keep up with photography while I’m working?)

Real quick side note: I feel like the creators of Ned’s Declassified School Survival Guide might have taken some inspiration from the cover of this book.

We were wondering when school was going to start, right? Well, here it is, after a year’s worth of adventures. Literally — The Secret Path came out in October 1995. And if you thought the start of school meant the end of weirdness, then you haven’t been paying attention to anything Sally has said the whole time. Here, too, she notes that teachers at Springville Intermediate School tend to be just as bizarre and unsavory as the other adults in town (e.g. the creepy librarian who forces calcium-supplemented milk on anyone who visits, the ice-cream-shop owner who refuses to serve anything but vanilla).

This becomes clear right off the bat with Mr. Snakol, who seems to slither from the prep room to the blackboard and has brighter green eyes than Adam has ever seen, even though he’s met a magical cat, a dragon, a crocodile alien, a fucking leprechaun, and a literal witch this summer. (N.b. Have I already noted Pike’s predilection for green eyes when someone is special or unusual? It was a lot more common in the early going, and it’s back in Spooksville.) He starts in on his method of teaching about anatomy through dissection, and immediately Sally speaks up against it. She encourages the new kid, who looks like he’s about to piss his pants, to do it too, and Mr. Snakol responds by asking them both to stay after class. Sally basically tells him where to stick it, but Pee-Pants can’t say no.

The Spook Squad meets up at lunch and discusses their weird teachers, and Adam wonders what happened to Pee-Pants. He’d invited him to have lunch with his friends, but now he’s not here. When he’s still unfindable after school, Adam tries to peek into the science room, but it’s locked, so he goes to Pee-Pants’ house to see if he went home already. And of course he didn’t. (Remember when you could look up someone’s address in the phone book?) So now Adam’s really worried. When the friends meet up for a celebratory first-day-of-school movie, he instead wants to break into the school and try to find the new kid.

Bryce knows how to pick locks, because of course he does, and the crew makes it to the back room of the science class without much trouble — where they find Pee-Pants’ clothes, stained with blood. And suddenly the door slams shut and they’re locked in. Watch has already spotted the alternative exit, a duct that leads to the roof vent, but Adam is the only one small enough to fit through it. When he’s up there, he peeks off the edge and sees Mr. Snakol with a gerbil cage. Correction: He sees Mr. Snakol unhinge his jaw to EAT A LIVE GERBIL.

So now they have evidence that Mr. Snakol is a weirdie and a danger to the students, and they go to the principal the next day to get him fired. Only the principal, a supremely unqualified leader with shocking orange hair, refuses to take responsibility because denial is easier, and isn’t worried about the missing kid because the mom is still young enough to have another one. I feel like there’s an analogy here if I could only find it. So Sally takes matters into her own hands and confronts Mr. Snakol directly ... who realizes she knows too much and will have to be dealt with.

When Sally doesn’t show up for lunch, Adam doesn’t wait another day — he barges right into the science lab. No bloody clothes this time, but the kids find a weird computer box in the closet. Watch immediately starts pushing buttons, of course, and a beam shoots out of the side and vaporizes a nearby hamster cage. Don’t worry, Watch says, it’s just a transporter, which how the fuck could he know that, but sure enough he brings the cage back, but the hamster is dead. So obviously this means that the cage was transported to outer space where there was no air for the hamster to breathe, as the kids make the kind of logic leap that Pike usually reserves for the grand finale. Obviously Mr. Snakol is an alien, and his ship must be nearby, and this box has transported Sally and maybe Pee-Pants to it. Now if they can just find the ship in the sky, Watch can start to calculate where to send themselves.

Sally wakes up in a cell with Pee-Pants, with no obvious door but a window that looks down on the Earth. So ... good guess, Bryce and Watch? They’re both wearing white robes, but otherwise OK. Pee-Pants tells Sally that Mr. Snakol forcibly took a sample of his blood and then made him change clothes and warped him to the ship, and maybe did the same thing to her earlier in the day. (She doesn’t remember any of this, because she passed out as soon as Mr. Snakol came after her.) He also tells her that the aliens (who call themselves “Lizzies,” I swear to fucking god) have been forced off their planet and are looking for a new place to live. This means invasion, and Sally has to stop it. She rips a strip off her robe and then starts screaming to lure a guard into the cell. As soon as he comes in, she hurls herself at him — to no effect, because he throws her back across the room and then leaves. But this was just a ruse to get the cloth wedged in the door so it can’t seal, and now Sally and Pee-Pants can bust out.

They find an armory and get a couple guns, then make their way to the control room and take it over. Sally forces the pilot to bring the ship in for a landing, and directs her to land in Africa for some goddamn reason. Only just then the view screen changes from a view of the planet to another room, where Adam and Bryce are being held at gunpoint by some officers. They managed to get warped aboard before Sally took over, and now they’re hostages in the demand for the Lizzies to get their ship back. So Sally has no choice but to hold the power source hostage, turning her gun up all the way and pointing it at the fuel cube or whatever, and instructing the pilot to keep going.

Meanwhile, Watch and Cindy go looking for Mr. Snakol, and find him dejectedly sitting on the steps of the school. He knows they know what he is, and so he feels comfortable sharing his worry that he’s been abandoned on the planet, as his ship is no longer in orbit. But he’s not just worried for himself; he’s worried for all of his people. Their planet was impacted by a comet and is basically suffering the early throes of nuclear winter, and if they can’t find a place to live, they’ll all die. They don’t want to take Earth by force, though; his role as a schoolteacher was to see whether humans and Lizzies could coexist. But he’s pretty sure the answer is no, and it’s maybe too late to find another place to live before his people go extinct.

It’s a good thing Watch knows some weird shit. He has an idea, but he needs to figure out how to get himself and Mr. Snakol to the ship. Mr. Snakol got final coordinates before it went missing, and beams them over to Africa, where the ship has landed in the middle of a pride of hungry lions. And of course Sally immediately opened all the doors upon landing, so the Lizzies have had to evacuate the ship as the lions climbed aboard looking for food. Watch explains his crazy idea: what if they share the planet, but in different timelines? The Lizzies can all beam to Spooksville and then immediately take the Secret Path shortcut to 70 million years ago, where they can live until they find another planet that works for them. This is amenable to the Lizzies, and the Spook Squad is cool with it as long as the Lizzies don’t mess with our evolution.

So they spend the rest of the day getting an entire civilization across space and into the ancient past, which seems way more efficient than something humanity could do. And then they head home, because they’re exhausted, but first Sally wants a snack — a big, juicy frog that’s sitting in the road. The rest of the kids freak out — did the Lizzies change something subtle about our genetics that now makes Sally hungry for amphibians? Nah, she’s just fucking with us.

As often as the MFLAs have recurred in Pike books, I have to say that I’m enjoying it more in this series. These ones especially are not just plain cold and evil: they’re people, trying to survive, but respecting the right to life of other people while they do it. But: this means the TITLE of this one is misleading, even more than the back copy for once (at least in the US release). The creature isn’t IN the teacher, the creature IS the teacher. For all intents and purposes, the creature IN the teacher is ... well, a gerbil.

#spooksville #spookstober

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sinesalvatorem · 6 years

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Response To Endecision, Pt 2

(Endecision’s post can be found here. My masterpost about these responses can be found here.)

The post about how I offloaded management of my triggers onto her was largely true. Interestingly, she left out how that was largely a reaction to her continually pressuring me into sex I didn’t want, and continually talking and joking about my triggers around me for months after I had asked her not to. The “stupid” thing she said which had made things worse was graphically describing a rape to me after I had clearly told her that this topic upset me.

To clarify: The pressuring into sex (that I talked about in the first post in this series), talking about her triggers, and the description of a rape scene from a TV show I was telling her about, are listed here as the things that exacerbated her triggers to the point where I took over responsibility for managing them. I completely agree that these are things that happened, and that they took a toll on her mental health. In fact, it’s because I agree with this and consider(ed?) myself deeply culpable that I took on complete responsibility for handling her emotions for years.

This is difficult to talk about/around, because I am committed to never revealing what Endecision’s triggers actually are to anyone, but I’ll still try to explain roughly what happened. Endecision is triggered by something which is an extremely common topic of discussion, and for most people is not upsetting. (I can at least say that it isn’t rape, though rape can sometimes be connected to it.) This does not at all impact the validity of her being triggered by it, but does mean that it took a lot of time and attention to become consistent at never talking about it, never allowing other people to talk about it, never listening to music in which it was mentioned, never watching movies where it might come up, etc.

The real difficulty, that persisted for years after, was that anything could be connected to the actual trigger. I can’t actually give any examples of things that might be indirectly related to the trigger, because while I’m confident the connections are tenuous enough that readers would be stumped, I don’t want to take any more chances than I have to wrt actually outing Endecision. But suffice to say that I was continually surprised by the new ways of triggering her that I kept stumbling into, until I started keeping a document of all the things to avoid. It eventually ran to over a hundred disconnected items, activities, people, and ideas that might potentially cause her mental agony, which I was willing to go to whatever lengths I could devise to avoid.

I also never said she had to take care of me 100% of the time; what I said was since she self-identified as being great at social skills and it would presumably be less fraught for her than me, would she mind changing the subject smoothly if it came up. I am also extremely skeptical that she was in the top 1% of avoiding triggers, since she forgot or slipped up constantly.

It is true that Endecision never told me I had to take care of her 100%. She just lashed out at me any time I failed to take care of her, which is no different from requiring me to take care of her 100% of the time and punishing me if I didn’t. For example, when someone in a different room from me played a song that upset her, and she came over to me for comfort and I failed to be sufficiently comforting, she accused me of “not really caring about her”.

Obviously, caring about her would have meant taking care of her 100% of the time, so claiming that she never asked me to do so is as disingenuous as if I were to claim that she never felt pressured into sex just because I never once even hinted at negative consequences for her if she didn’t have sex with me. At times I asked to have sex and she didn’t feel able to say no, and that’s all I need to know to acknowledge that I caused her to feel pressured into sex, and that this is bad.

For her to think that just because she never said I needed to do this at all times didn’t mean that I actually did, given how mad at me she would become if I ever failed to, is either a spectacular failure of theory of mind, or a spectacular triumph of self-centredness. And it’s true that I forgot or slipped up on many occasions; just less often than 99% of people would have. But Endecision will never believe this, even though she will certainly see it around her over time, because she doesn’t believe in imperfections apart from those that make one irredeemable.

The part about her coming out to me as a rape survivor ascribed a ton of malice to me that wasn’t there; as soon as she told me I had stopped being angry, asked if she was ok talking about it, then afterward didn’t really know what to say. Eventually we went to sleep. “Has suffered the correct amount” didn’t come into it at all.

This, again, is a massive failure of theory of mind. She had just been berating me for hours, and having me affirm every accusation she made of how terrible my behaviour had been. And it was agreement over something actually awful, so I was obviously emotionally vulnerable. I was shell-shocked and self-hating, as anyone would be if they felt how badly they had hurt someone. (ie, a way Endecision will never feel about anything she’s done to me.)

And then, in this state of shaking and holding back tears so as not to be attention-seeking or detract from the importance of how she was wronged, she asked me to self-harm, or at least come up with an appropriate plan for self-harm. She said I needed to suffer twice as much as the suffering caused to someone who felt pressured into sex. And, in this context, I admitted to her that I had at one time been forcibly raped. (Something I’d hidden from her before, because I knew that she was upset about hearing about rapes like this.)

So, the stage is set. The cat is out of the bag. What does Endecision do? She asks me to describe my rape. This after she made it clear that she wanted me to suffer, and specifically wanted me to suffer enough to outweigh my crimes. Can anyone possibly claim they wouldn’t have felt like they were being judged? That they didn’t actually have a choice but to agree to this, because otherwise they would not be judged to have suffered enough not to deserve the pain that had already been being planned for them?

From Endecision’s perspective, she had stopped being angry at me once I revealed my survivor status, and that meant that all pressure on me was gone. But if it were that easy not to coerce people, then none of this would have happened, since she never once would have felt pressured into sex. I was in a situation where I had no way of knowing whether she still intended to harm me, and she was asking me to describe the one event that might possibly be bad enough to make up for my actions.

And I dodged around it and only gave a vague description. And she asked for more details. And then she asked for more details. And yet a fourth time she asked until I had told her everything, right up to who shoved what into which part of me under what circumstances and how I tried to escape. I had to bring everything about it back to mind and go through it in meticulous detail, because if I didn’t I fully expected her to devise some sort of torture for me.

But, of course, I only acted of my own free will. I didn’t experience any pressure at all, because Endecision didn’t feel like she was exerting pressure, so none was present. People can, of course, pressure Endecision into things unintentionally - that’s beyond doubt and beyond the pale. No one has ever disagreed with this, as much as she seems to pretend that I did at the time. But can she hurt people by accident? Not a chance! No malice; no crime - but only if you’re her. This was, of course, a recurring theme in our relationship and my abuse.

#life as her wife #tragic backstory #rape cw #abuse cw

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layztypodo · 6 years

Text

💔Doesn’t Love Me💔

“I’m sorry Marinette, but I can’t return your feelings. You see… I’ve only been dating you so as to not hurt your feelings…” The words she just heard rattled through her head. “I actually have feelings for… someone else, someone else… someone else…” Those last words echoed in her head. Someone else he said? The boy tried to explain himself, but it was already too late. She took off running into the dark Parisian night, her pink flowered themed skirt succumbed to the wind, and her tears sprinkled a path behind her as she ran far away from him as she could.

The girl didn’t stop running until she tripped over some loose sidewalk. The pain in her knee was nothing compared to the one in her heart. Limping out of the way, and into a nearby alleyway, the girl looked over her knee. While doing so, a big fat tear fell from her face and onto the open scab wound.

“Ahhhh!” The girl winced in pain, covering the exposed wound with the edge of her skirt. The sad little lady continued to cry, she could probably fill up the Seine with how much she was crying. During the midst of this her little Kwami companion rushed to her holder’s face for a tiny hug.

“Shhhhh, it’s okay Marinette.” The little creature spoke in a soft tone, though it did nothing to stop the overflow of tears protruding from her red sad eyes. The crying girl, Marinette, held her tiny friend close to her face.

“Oh, Tikki…” Marinette sputtered out in a pathetic whimper. “H-how c-c-could… Adrien do this to m-me…?” Marinette couldn’t find her superhero courage to strengthen her voice. Anything she said came out in a weak, hiccup induced whisper. Tikki tried to comfort Marinette some more by patting her cheek as comfortably as she could.

Marinette had every reason to be upset at the boy she secretly loved, and finally got the courage to ask him out a few months ago. Things were going just fine with them, sharing laughs, going to the movies, cuddling together while watching shows together, playing video games, going out to eat, and they even shared a few kisses. But then, everything crumbled and fell when Marinette said three simple words: “I love you”, causing Adrien to say those unexpected and earth shattering words, destroying Marinette from within.

“Well… he did it to not hurt you…” Hurt? HURT?! Hurt did not begin to summarize how Marinette felt; she felt betrayed, lied to, led on, used. Marinette opened up to Adrien, in a way that she never did with her friends, including Alya. She told him some of her deepest secrets, and had relied on him for a shoulder to cry on, and he comforted her. Adrien made Marinette feel special, happy, like he actually cared for and liked her. Did those times mean nothing to him now? Did they mean anything to begin with?

“He didn’t just hurt me Tikki,” Marinette’s words weren’t megar anymore, but laced with an unknown anger. “He broke my heart…” Marinette’s tears slowed down some, but they continued to fall consistently, and with a different force other than sadness. Tikki moved from her Holder’s grasp, with a look of concern. “He never loved me, he never will!”

Tikki began to say something, but was caught off guard when she heard a familiar flutter of certain insect. Turning to the source of the flapping to see an Akuma coming towards Marinette. “Marinette Spots On!” Tikki said pointing in its direction of the cursed butterfly. Marinette quietly told Tikki to transform her with her teeth gritted. As Tikki swirled into the earrings, worry spread across her face. Without a second glance at the Akuma, Ladybug managed to capture the Akuma seamlessly and release it without her signature phrase.

Ladybug took a deep breath, tears slowly rolled in front of her mask. Hopping up from the alleyway and into the cold, freezing night. Luckily, her suit kept her body warm, but when her tears slide down to her cheeks, the cold air froze them against her flesh.

Ladybug had no desire to return home quite yet, she still had a least an hour left before she had to go home, and she wanted to get rid of any tears she had left over. Though she was sure she was going to be crying for at least the next couple months. Regardless, swinging through the city always cleared up her head, and that’s what she decided to do. She was very careful as to swing past the Agreste household without looking to see if Adrien was home or not. She did not care much to see him.

Instead, Ladybug swung past Adrien’s mansion and landed on top of the Eiffel Tower, facing the opposite way from the mansion. She held onto the railing and let her yo-yo bob up and down, it kept her mind occupied and away from a certain blond haired boy.

“L-ladybug?” The voice made her tense up, tears instantly threatened to crawl their way out again. Though when she turned around, she was relieved to see a different blond haired boy, well catboy, standing behind her. Something was off about him though, his cat ears drooped and his eyes were red, like he has been crying hard. Ignoring her own problems and against her usual partnership boundaries, she went over and instantly hugged Chat.

Upon contact, Chat tensed up, Ladybug could even feel him forcibly try to breath. ‘Chat must be in as bad as shape as I am,’ thought Ladybug. She patted him on the back as new fresh tears splattered down on Ladybug’s shoulder.

“I’m… s-sor-r-y….” Chat barely managed to say. Ladybug held him closer, which only ended up making Chat tenser.

“Oh minou, it is ok to cry,” responded Ladybug in a sweet caring voice. Chat didn’t say anything, he just furiously shook his head, trying to steady himself for another sentence.

“Y-you d-d-on’t und-d-derstand…” Chat’s voice came out raspy as he concluded his sentence. “...I messed up sooooooo b-bad…” Ladybug was confused by what he was trying to say. ‘What could he have possibly have done to break down like this?’ wondered Ladybug as she calmly stroked his messy blond hair.

“I know we don’t usually talk about our civilian lives, like at all. But you seem like you really need a friend who will listen to you.” Ladybug tried to sound as encouraging as she possibly can. Their partnership never really opened up for them to be personal. But now Ladybug kinda wished that it was. “So if you need to talk about anything feel free to talk about it, I am all ears.”

Chat got loose from Ladybug’s embrace, keeping his arms down low. Chat’s head was hung low, and he did not make eye contact at all with Ladybug. “I d-don’t deserve… your-kindness.” Chat mumbled very quietly, Ladybug had to get in close to hear him. “Y-you are just… so amazing,” Chat had to gulp in between words. “And I don’t deserve you… ” Ladybug was shocked to hear this. Usually Chat is going, on and on about how much they were meant to be together.

“Chat, why do you say that? If anything I don’t deserve you…” Thankful for her mask, which covered up part of her cheeks, which were beginning to blush a little. Chat balled his fist and his buckled legs fell out from him and he collapsed to his knees. “Chat!” ladybug went down to be eye level with Chat, and she put her hands on his shoulders. “Chat are you okay?”

The cat themed superhero didn’t say anything at first, he was breathing hard to try to steady his breath before he spoke again. “No, I am n-not okay…” Chat took Ladybug’s hands and held them together, and he finally looked at Ladybug. It was like the word “pain” was etched into his emerald green eyes, and Ladybug could see it clearly. “I… I… h-hurt you…” Ladybug raised an eyebrow to this, what did he mean by this? “I hurt you s-so badly, and I… I don’t know how I could make it up to you…” Chat broke down into more tears, and didn’t struggle when Ladybug wrapped her arms around him again.

“Chat I don’t see how you hurt me…” Ladybug said quite puzzled. Chat didn’t return the hug, but he did slump into her arms. His voice kept getting better as he went further with his explanation.

“You see… I br-broke your heart…” Ladybug froze. ‘What did he say?’ “I never meant t-to find out but… well I chased after you to apologize and, and you were talking to your K-Kwami.” ‘No Chat couldn’t be, he just couldn’t!’ Ladybug screamed in her head. Shock and anger rattled Ladybug to her core, and she didn’t know if she should be mad that he found out her identity, or be mad that Chat Noir is Adrien Agreste, the boy who she did secretly love. “A-and so I went home, and I was gonna talk to you tomorrow at school, b-but then I saw you swing by and I figured that I... might as well go face you now… I am so sorry...” Chat looked back down at his knees.

Ladybug certainly couldn’t deny that Chat was genuine in his apology. She just couldn’t believe him! First breaking her heart to thousands of pieces, and then also discovering her identity on top of that, and approaching her as Chat Noir, it was just too much for her. But Ladybug had to know something before she left.

“Adrien?” Chat looked up at her, not use to hearing her call him by his civilian name. “Who do you love?” Chat blinked away his tears and scooted closer to her.

“You of course,” Chat said with a bit of happiness. “I’ve loved you since the very beginning.”

“No, you haven’t, ” Chat was taken aback by Ladybug’s snap. “You only love Ladybug… not Marinette… You said it yourself.” Chat held her hands again, it looked like he was getting ready to plead with her.

“I only said that, when I didn’t know you were Ladybug. If I had known you were Marinette, I would have accepted you.” Ladybug looked away from him, staring out into the many building lit up with lights. Chat held a tighter grip to her hands. “Before I knew who you were, I thought I would be betraying you by loving someone else, but that’s not the case.” Still nothing from Ladybug. “Please, you have to understand… I-” Before Chat could go any further Ladybug stopped him.

“Oh, I understand.” Chat blinked once again in disbelieve.

“You do?” He whimpered like an upset cat.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I appreciate what you did to me.” If possible Chat’s cat ears fell lower until it was flat against his head. “Look it will take me awhile to forgive you, and I will forgive you, but I think you just need to leave me alone for now…” Chat nodded slowly and he stood up.

“I’ll give you as much time as you want… See you tomorrow…” Ladybug slowly nodded, new tears sprung forth. And at the same time they departed ways, unsure of what was to become of their relationship.

#mircaulous ladybug

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black-strike-otp · 7 years

Text

part 5

“Let Novastrike go. Stop holding her hostage,” said the fans.

“how ‘bout I don’t little shits?” replied Motormaster.

Do not be deceived, some appearances are short-lived, while others will make return appearances~

They’d failed. It didn’t matter who was at fault, but they’d failed miserably. All they had to show for their efforts was battered bodies and hollow screams that echoed through the brig like spark chilling melancholy music. It was horrifying.

Who was alive any who was dead? Novastrike didn’t know. There probably wouldn’t be an honest answer anyway out of the horrendous mech either. His armor was ridiculous thick and he found any of her attempts at fighting back laughable. She’d been removed of her guns after leaving a few scorching marks on Motormaster, and prior to him arriving she’d been restrained after half her cache left of grenades had been used to break out of her cell and try fighting off the guards on duty. The rest had been forcibly removed from her person.

Even with her teeth sank into Motormaster’s side, biting and clawing and scratching, he’d pick her off like a tick and flicked her into a wall. It was like he was completely unphased with pain. Or maybe she was just that weak.

She’d shake off her vertigo and go after him again and again. In one form or the other. For the most part he’d stand there, taking her attempts to hurt him, knocking her aside. Laughing at her expense. He let her work herself until she was getting too tired to be fast enough to outmaneuver him, and that’s when he’d strike back.

Picking up on how sluggish she was getting, Motormaster kicked Novastrike aside as she darted around his pedes. When she persisted to try attacking again he raised his pede and slammed it down, narrowly missing the small femme. She fell over from the sheer vibrations on the floor from the impact.

“Tell me what you and you were friends were after, minibot. You’ll make this a lot easier on everyone.”

A small growl escaped Novastrike. Her audios pressed back against her helm as she tried to stand up.

A large pede pressed into her backside and she collapsed onto the floor. The barest of whimpers fearfully escaped her as she struggled, trying to desperately pull herself out from beneath the light pressure of the mech’s pede upon her.

“You don’t want to end up like the other bots, minibot,” Motormaster snapped impatiently. “Come now femme, speak up.”

Panicked, Novastrike dug her digits into the floor and tried to pull herself free. She pushed with legs as best she could, maybe she could get one leg free and help propel herself forward. She wriggled like a worm desperately; one of her legs beginning to slip free.

Rolling his shoulders in a shrug, the mech placed his weight onto the heel of his pede. Metal began to buckle and crunch as it snapped inward.

A pained shriek escaped Nova. She tried to convulse and instead slammed her helm into the tip of the mech’s pede by mistake; seeing stars.

Giving a displeased ‘hurmph’, the mech removed his pede and reached down. His thumb digit and index digit gripped Novastrike by her helm as he picked her up.

The pressure and strain on her backstrut, neck, and helm was tremendous. Desperate to release some of the tension, Novastrike snarled and swung her legs- make that leg, she realized quickly as her hips pivoted with no reaction from her right leg but to hang limp- up until she managed to hook her left leg on part of the mech’s arm for support.

“I’m going to crush that tiny helm of yours and be done with it, ya traitorous little scrap. Nothing to say? Not a word? Not on behalf of any of your friends?”

Tears blurred Novastrike’s vision. She feebly tried punching and clawing at Motormaster’s arm, her helm pounding painfully.

“Tsk” he hissed, pulling his arm back just slightly and throwing the femme into the wall.

Novastrike flailed in the air and smacked hard into the wall. Her body fell hard onto the floor and she laid still. Each intake she took was ragged and tired. Her optics half-closed and energon splattered on the wall and upon her frame.

“What a waste of my time. I’ve had better fight out of sparklets,” the mech spat coldly. “I’ll be back for ya answer. Better think long and hard how you’re going to explain what you and the rest of your Autofilth friends sent out to ya buddies. If you think I’m being nasty now, ya just wait until I get real angry.”

Sent? Someone sent something? Novastrike tried raising her helm. Her vision was too blurry to focus on anything. She tried opening her mouth to speak and energon dribbled out of the corner and onto the floor.

The silhouette of Motormaster shifted in front of her and turned away. Novastrike tried to force her thoughts into words but just panted tiredly. What was sent? She didn’t know anything about something being sent. He could let her go right, she didn’t have the information he wanted.

The mech left the room before she could usher a single word.

~~~~

Motormaster slapped on the biggest shit-eating grin of pride and glory he could muster the moment that the latest recruits arrived. They came with supplies, new Cons, weapons, armor enchancements, seasoned warriors, you name it. All the creature comforts a senile Decepticon outpost’s leader could want.

A particular lone figure caught Motormaster’s optic. Letting his smug grin grow, the mech’s orange optics shone bright as he ‘casually’ strode over to greet the mech.

Casually being walking like some wanna be criminal into a saloon in an old western movie.

“Ah! Megatron sent one of his finest Generals to oversee the shipment here aye? Must be a pretty decent load.”

Blackout barely offered a glance towards Motormaster.

“Yep. Must be pretty important stuff sent to me, yours truly. Say uh, Blackout, has Megatron asked about me at all? Ya know he probably could use some more bots close at hand.”

A rumble echoed through the Giant Asshole. “Lord Megatron would contact you directly if he wished to speak with you about a promotion, Motormaster.”

“Yes of course. But you could always put in a good word for me. Say, you have time, right? Why not take a look around the good ol’ base.”

“I’ll pass,” Blackout growled.

“Ya could at least verify out prisoners! I sent Megatron a message but wasn’t sure it got through, he hasn’t replied to me...”

“Prisoners?”

“Aye, prisoners. Stole something from the database and sent it-”

Blackout turned sharply towards Motormaster. “They sent out information?”

“Aye.”

“Does your base not have a functional digital shield? No information should be leaving or entering the area without hitting the safety walls, someone should have noticed.”

Motormaster raised his servos. “It should be active-”

Blackout growled. He shouldered past the stupid mech. Leave it to Menasor’s leading idiotic head to screw things up.

Not even recognizing the hostility and irritation of Blackout’s actions, Motormaster was quick to turn and half jog to keep pace with the even larger mech whose stride was both fast and wide.

“We’re working on finding out what exactly was taken.”

“You’re following the trail of the message?”

“Well- no- but it was erased as soon as someone caught it’s signature.”

Blackout’s expression turned into a grimace. Either someone very skilled had been sending out that data, or Motormaster was really that stupid as were his bots. Both were highly probable. The later just seemed moreso than the former.

Looking over to the moron of a mech, Blackout stated in as slow and patient a voice as he could, “So, we’ve no idea what was taken, it seems its trail is lost, you have no other information, and there’s prisoners here who may have insight.”

“Prisoner.”

“One?”

“The others, well... Didn’t make it-”

“Didn’t make it?” Blackout repeated, mouth hanging open. His optics were locked on Motormaster, who seemed confused by the shocked looked in Blackout’s face.

“Well,” Motormaster began, “Some were taken out during the search for the intruders. Those that we captured were mostly fairly injured. We have to get information somehow.”

“Motormaster, you-”

Blackout felt something clip his pede and turned his helm quickly to the right to see what had hit him.

With a disgruntled expression on his faceplate and narrowed optics, the mostly red and black mech he’d accidently bumped while walking turned a scowl up to Blackout.

“Pleasant to see you, Hound.” the mech muttered.

“Likewise, Nighthawk,” Blackout grumbled, narrowing his gaze as well.

“Here on duty from Megatron I presume?” Nighthawk asked stiffly. “Or just flying aimlessly around, looking for something to destroy?”

Motormaster barked with laughter. He stepped between the two, whose eyes were locked in a glare that spoke of nothing but disdain for the other.

“Good one, Nighthawk,” Motormaster beamed.

With a sniff, the medic slowly turned his optics to Motormaster. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize my declared observation was noted towards this vacuous unhinged sadistic ruffin.”

For a moment, there appeared to be some confusion on Motormaster’s faceplate before he grinned brighter. “Always the funny one, ya are doc.”

“Right,” Nighthawk drawled. “Jovial indeed.”

The same puzzled expression flashed across Motormaster’s face. Blackout wasn’t sure if the obnoxious medic just earned a half a kilogram of his respect for his wit or irked him all the more.

“If you’ll excuse me, fine mechs, I have actual work to do around here.”

“Of course ya do Nighthawk,” Motormaster stated with annoying cheer. “Some of these bots will be needing your help before long if you know what I’m saying, ha!”

“Oh trust me,” Nighthawk replied in an icy tone as he turned away, “I won’t be keeping a pede in here any longer than necessary.”

As the seeker marched down the hall, Motormaster turned his dopy grin up at Blackout. “Medics, amirite?”

Primus help him, he’d rather bicker with the fragging medic than listen to this fool.

“Where’s the prisoner?” Blackout insisted curtly.

“Right this way,” Motormaster grunted, slapping a ‘serious expression’ on as he lead the way down the hall.

~~~~

If Blackout had to hear another plea from Motormaster about becoming part of the ‘upper crust’ of the Decepticons, or another shitty story, or another torture story, he was going to rip out the mech’s vocal cords.

Thankfully, just shy of coming to that point of insanity, Motormaster had stopped just outside the guarded brig doors and had the guards step aside to allow them entry.

“As you can see, we had a problem with the Autobots,” Motormaster began, ushering a servo to the hall stained with energon and shrapnel. Blackout’s optics studied the patterns on the walls, flood, and ceiling. Explosives; small. Grenades.

“They tried to escape?”

“One tried to escape,” Motormaster clarified. “The one we still have left.”

Blackout’s optics flickered into the open cells as they walked by. There were eradicon and vehicon inside, trying to clean up pools of energon from the latest victims that had been contained in those rooms.

Blackout curled his lip slightly. Torture was not in his taste. He prefered a quick death. The sooner a job was dealt with, the better.

A few rooms down and past a particularly blown up cell, Motormaster stopped at what appeared to be the only actively locked door in the corridor. Motormaster tapped a few keys on a nearby lock and a portion of the door’s one-way glass went transparent to show the prisoner inside.

Blackout almost lost his lower jaw. Almost.

“It’s a fragging minibot,” Motormaster explained like Blackout couldn’t see. “So ya know, gotta be extra gentle. Ya know how fragile they are.”

“I don’t,” Blackout stated bluntly.

“Really?” Motormaster muttered, trailing a moment before he continued. “Anyway, ya can tell Lord Megatron we got her contained. I tried getting her to talk, didn’t do much good. Think it may be better we try a cordial patch if we want some accurate and immediate progress. Would ya put that suggestion by him? Tell Lord Megatron it was my idea?”

The Extra Large Asshole offered a curt nod.

Lighting up like a kid on Christmas, Motormaster puffed out his chassis with pride. “Now, if ya’ll follow me out of ‘ere, I can show ya to the armory. I’d like your opinion on...”

Tuning the dim-witted mech out, Blackout pinged Scorponok through their partner bond. The scorpion stirred on his backside.

< What is it? > the bug inquired through the bond.

< I have something for you to do. > Blackout replied. While Motormaster’s back was turned, Blackout pressed his servo over the keypad for the room. He sent out a small EMP wave, blowing the circuits inside.

Scorponok shuffled through Blackout’s thoughts for a moment, and then groaned. < You’re trying to get us killed, or at the very least, beaten and stripped of rank. >

< I’m repaying a favor. >

Blackout could sense Scorponok’s disbelief, but didn’t try to argue with him now. As Motormaster yapped and walked ahead, Blackout followed behind him. His rotorblades spread apart and Scorponok undocked from his back and climbed carefully around to Blackout’s shoulders.

< Be quick, and meet me on the south side of the building. The majority of this base is meeting with another unit north to strike on an Autobot base. I’ll make sure the guards outside the brig are distracted. >

Scorponok clicked softly, balancing over Blackout’s shoulder. The large mech leaned down and the bug climbed halfway down his arm and to the floor, scurrying into an empty, bloody room nearby as Blackout stepped out of the brig with Motormaster.

Quick on his many-pronged legs, Scorponok stepped out of the room and nimbly snuck past the rooms the eradicon/vehicon were working in. He stepped over to the door Novastrike was imprisoned in, and tapped the doors lightly.

The doors slid part of the way open before jamming. Scorponok squeezed inside and scurried over to the heap of white and light gray armor lying on the floor. He reached out and prodded her side with one limb.

Novastrike sluggishly raised her helm. She stared at Scorponok’s face with utter confusion.

“Oh Primus, did they drug me,” Nova mumbled.

Scorponok gave a click and tapped Nova a little firmer.

“Ugh- go away, apparition, please. I just want to rest.”

“You come,” Scorponok stated in a mechanical, almost monotone voice.

Novastrike’s ears turned to the bug. She looked more confused than ever. She’d not heard that voice before, and certainly not from this minicon. The last time they met, he hadn’t spoke at all.

“Come now,” Scorponok stated with a hint of firmness now.

“Okay okay,” Novastrike agreed, not understanding the urgency. She tried to stand up and instantly collapsed, her broken leg not functional in the least.

Scorponok gave a click. He looked Novastrike over a moment. Judging her height, her injuries...

“Hey what are you-”

The bug awkwardly stepped over her.

“Crawl?” he suggested.

A groan escaped Novastrike. This was embarrassing.

“Gimme a second.”

Twisting around slightly, Novastrike adjusted the potion of her leg. She transformed; her mostly shattered leg creaking and twisting as pieces of her leg fell off during transformation.

Resisting the urge to sob, Novastrike pressed her feline-like alt mode’s tummy to the ground. “Okay, how’s this going to-”

Scorponok started moving. His pace was slow without being obnoxiously obvious slow. Novastrike half army-crawled and half dragged herself beneath the bug to keep up.

Embarrassing.

“Wait wait- the others-!”

Scorponok continued walking down the hall. There was no need for him to say what could be seen. Novastrike’s optics looked at the doors as they past. The argument in her throat slowly died and she allowed her ears to droop sadly.

The bug walked up to the brig door and it opened smoothly. Off to the far left, Blackout was standing with four guards and Motormaster. Scorponok quickly veered right, with Novastrike barely able to keep pace beneath him.

“Where are we going?” Novastrike hissed. “Why exactly are you helping me?”

“Quiet,” the monotone-scorpion insisted.

Novastrike bit her glossia. Best not look a gift turbofox in the maw.

The pair traversed the hallways with caution. Novastrike could overhear some of the Decepticon’s gooding and bragging their kills, their weapons, their battle experience. It made her feel sick.

Eventually, Scorponok lead Novastrike to a doorway. She was almost giddy enough to charge out from below the minicon and out but quivered nervously beneath him As they turned to the left outside of the door, Novastrike glanced back. Energon droplets and splatters revealed her escape. She swallowed anxiously.

The bug stopped suddenly and Novastrike almost walked out from under him. She froze, ears twitching nervously.

Chirping, Scorponok looked at the shadow standing within the shadows just beneath an overhang. He scurried over, Nova awkwardly shuffling beneath him.

“Took you long enough,” Blackout stated gruffly.

“Femme bleeding,” Scorponok explained. “Left multiple trails.”

Blackout nodded. He reached down, offering an arm for the minicon to climb up.

As soon as Scorponok moved from over Novastrike, the cyber-cat flattened. Her optics wide, she looked left to right, and then up, spotting the Big Jerk squatting beside her.

“You?” Novastrike hissed.

“I prefer Blackout,” Satan replied.

Standing on all fours, Novastrike looked around. There were no Decepticons around, and a conveniently placed transport vehicle was parked in front of them to keep anyone from simply walking by spotting them.

“You had Scorponok help me?” Novastrike inquired.

Blackout didn’t respond. Instead, he nodded to his bug, which climbed over his shoulder and down his backside to dock. He moved to stand once his minicon was secure, looking down at Nova silently.

Lashing her tail, Novastrike shifted and her form morphed; switching back to bipedal. She winced as more gears and sprockets tumbled out of her leg; some locking up awkwardly.

“You helped me,” Novastrike repeated, “Why? You said the next time I saw you, our debts were paid. You’d kill me.”

“You lived because Scorponok lived that day,” Blackout stated. “Today I am repaying another debt. You helped me escape, I help you escape. There. We are even. Now I can kill you next time.”

“Without remorse?” Novastrike stated sarcastically.

“Precisely.”

Novastrike glanced around once more. “Where’s the others? Shouldn’t there be some Decepticons at work?”

“Sent to battle,” Blackout stated calmly. “Although I have no doubt someone has noticed your energon trail by now. Best take the opportunity you have, there won’t be another.”

Novastrike glanced back up to Blackout’s faceplate. She felt a tinge of pity in her spark for him. Why, she couldn’t explain.

“Thank you,” she whispered softly. “Both of you, Scorponok as well.”

Blackout blinked slowly. “Scorponok says you’re welcome.”

Ah. That’s how it is.

Shuffling on her good leg, Novastrike turned to leave. She started to limp away and then paused, turning back to see Blackout already turning to go.

“Hey,” she stated loudly, catching his attention. Novastrike pried the armor on her arm open and pulled out the usb, tossing it up to Blackout.

By reflex, Blackout caught the usb. He looked down at it slowly.

“Take it,” Nova muttered. “I won’t be needing it where I’m going.”

She turned and went to hobble off again, keeping her helm held high.

Blackout looked up to watch the femme. The very corner of his lip turned up by the slightest degree and he pinched his digits around the usb, pulverizing it into dust and shards of twisted metal he dropped to the ground.

< You respect her. > Scorponok piped up through the bond.

< .... Maybe a little, > Blackout agreed. < But any bot who can go this long in the war and uses stun guns when possible, and refuses to kill someone... She’s earned that respect. She’s true to herself. >

< How do you know she hasn’t killed yet? >

< I can tell. >

Scorponok didn’t question how he thought he knew this. But just before retracting from the bond, he made a final remark: < Careful, Blackout. One might say you even care about what happens to her. >

The bug was gone from this thoughts before Blackout could remark. However, that didn’t stop him from snarling with annoyance as he stomped off. The last thing he wanted was to be found at the end of that femme’s energon-trail.

#quid pro quo au #OTP AU #OTP Lit #Badass OTP #don't tell me how rushed this feels I know!! buddy I know.....

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isabellakristen · 7 years

Text

Alarms | Chatzy

Summary: Edward finally gets back from his night at Oswald’s, to see what Isabella’s been up to in his absence Trigger warnings: Emotional abuse, imprisonment, torture-lite (defined as being a torture method that is less severe than physical torture, such as noise bombardment) Written by: @riddle-me-that and @isabellakristen

Riddler: It was a long night before Edward had finally reached Oswald and he had been exhausted the moment he got there. Initially, he wanted to spend a good few hours with the Penguin just to cool off. However when he had a look at the streets again – the chaos had only gotten worse since he got there and it was much safer to just stay put with Oswald until daybreak. Eddie didn't expect to rest as long as he had, sleeping in past noon. A good, long rest. He couldn't remember the last time he slept like that, but it had to have been before Arkham.

Walking into his safehouse now, he closed the door slowly, as if he was afraid to make too much of a sound before sliding the couple of locks in place. He would be fine here. It wasn't like he could stay with Oswald forever... not when he had Isabella to deal with. He checked the time and felt himself cringe. It was well into the afternoon by now which gave her way too much free time. She could have left and he would have never known. The Riddler rushed to his screens and turned them all on, glancing at every room until he found her comfortably curled up on the couch. At least she's still there. A small part of him was glad she wasn't out in the chaos, but he convinced himself that it was simply the game he was concerned about. Not her.

She looked lovely. Her hair fluffed out like it had been air-dried, his shirt was large on her swallowing her body in it, like she was still attempting to hide herself from him. The first thing he did was remotely shut off her television, interrupting her movie.

"Hello, Isabella." He spoke into the mic. "Did you miss me?"

Isabella: Simply showering and feeling clean again had done Isabella wonders. She felt human again, and as she sat on the couch, settling down to watch a mindless movie with a cup of tea, she felt at peace. She knew it would be short-lived, and the price of her afternoon of freedom would be steep, but she honestly didn't care. It was still wonderful. She felt relaxed and content. And she was luckier than most, wasn't she? She was at home, comfortable and safe, and completely alone. It was difficult not to think of her friends, but she kept her gaze on the TV screen and tuned out the real world, getting lost in the movie while she still could.

She'd been watching it for maybe about 45 minutes when the screen went black. Isabella was quietly grateful that Edward had chosen to turn off the TV before addressing her, because it wasn't as much of a shock, and she didn't jump when he spoke. She had been waiting for this. And she wasn't afraid.

Her hair felt soft and hung like a halo around her head, and his shirt was cotton and gentle against her skin. Just cleansing herself, and spending some alone, without the heaviness of his gaze on her, had revitalised her. She felt strong again, in a way that she hadn't done since all of this had started, days ago.

"Hello, Edward," she replied, bluntly, looking up at the ceiling. "Long time no hear." The question was pointless, and she completely ignored it. He knew the answer. Instead, she calmly picked up her phone and raised it up a little, showing it to him with a smile. It felt so good to smile again. "Did you enjoy your night with Oswald? I've had a wonderful day. Do you know, I actually showered? It's amazing, the things you can achieve when you're not being stalked."

Riddler: He immediately felt irked at her statement. She had been talking to Oswald, that or she just assumed that was where he went. Still, the way she made it sound got on Ed's every nerve. "I'm not stalking you." He clarified, "We're playing a game... and you have yet to make your move." He said. "I don't understand why you haven't showered since we started. In Arkham there are showers, but you see... Guards are posted outside of the doors and come in only when they hear something unusual. They aren't posted inside the shower room." He hinted. "Perhaps you should have done your research." He hoped that would make her feel stupid.

With that, he pulled away from the mic and looked her over on the screen. She had smiled, she seemed content – that couldn't be allowed. He tried to think of a suitable punishment for Isabella. Something that would ruin her mood and hurt her. He needed to break her down emotionally.

[text: UNKNOWN]: What's a good punishment, do you think? [text: UNKNOWN]: You didn't follow our schedule.

Isabella: "Stalking," Isabella replied, calmly. "Harassing or pursuing someone with unwanted attention." She shrugged. "I would say that definition applies, but I suppose we're going to have to agree to disagree." Her heart was pounding, and she put her phone down on the couch beside her and clasped her hands together tightly in her lap. She kept her gaze on the ceiling as he spoke, and the realisation that there wasn't a camera in the bathroom crept up on her slowly.

Oh. He hadn't been watching the bathroom. She hadn't even thought that there might be some rooms he wasn't monitoring. She'd just assumed he would be watching every room in the apartment. Why hadn't she considered the possibility that he wasn't? Of course there weren't guards inside the showers at Arkham. Unless he was lying? Maybe he wanted her to think there wasn't a camera in there, so he could watch her unimpeded? Oh, this was ridiculous. It was impossible to know if he was tricking her, and she felt her carefully built control slip slightly. Just like he wanted.

She didn't know what to say, but kept her face impassive, and stayed completely still. He wanted to embarrass her. That was obvious. Luckily, she was saved from having to respond when her phone buzzed, and she opened it immediately. Edward apparently didn't think she was worth wasting breath on, so he'd returned to texting.

She stared down at the messages, and her stomach flipped. But she couldn't panic. Logically, she knew that he wouldn't kill her this early in the game, and she doubted he would physically harm her either. That would mean paying much closer attention to her, when he obviously wanted to take breaks from guard duty. She was safe. Besides, she couldn't give him the satisfaction of making her panic.

Ignoring the slight nausea she felt at his question, she looked back up to the ceiling. "I didn't follow it because you weren't here to enforce it," she said. "I'm not going to dig my own grave, Edward. I'm sure you're clever enough to come up with something suitably awful." Her voice was steady and cold, but inside, she felt the fear rising again, and she ignored it.

Riddler: She was right. He hadn't been there to enforce it. "Stupid, stupid." He muttered to himself and hit his head a couple of time with his hand before hiding his face in them for a moment. He shouldn't have left. No matter how cramped and how insane he was beginning to feel. Leaving her meant losing the respect he had spent so long building back up with her. It meant having to break her down all over again. He was weak last night, letting her crying get the better of him. He was weak for not staying with her through the day and night like he usually did. Taking time off? That was stupid and it wasn't happening again.

"It's okay, Eddie. We can pull this back." He whispered to himself, looking back at the monitors. She looked a little afraid at least, when he had mentioned a punishment. He sighed to himself. He had always hated the injections. He hated it when they felt he was acting up too much that he needed to be forcibly held down and given something to 'take the ease off'. There was the shock therapy of course, as well. But these were physical actions and he only had a mental presence of himself to work with.

Then again... She was terrified of loud noises. She jumped at the alarms he set, she was scared of cars and trains because of how Oswald had murdered her.

"Okay." He said to himself. "Let's see how you like this..." He reached over and set up an alarm, one that would just keep going. One that wouldn't shut off without him doing it manually and pressed it. The alarm sounding in her apartment, just a little louder than normal. It rang in every room. Blaring non-stop.

Isabella: The silence dragged, and Isabella knew that he must be thinking about his next move. She closed her eyes, and stayed absolutely still, and told herself that it would be fine. Edward couldn't harm her. She could feel him thinking it over, considering his options, trying to decide what would be a fitting punishment for her crime. She could just picture him, sitting at some desk, in the dark. In her head, he was in a warehouse in the pitch black, lit up only by the light of his monitors, the artificial light flashing off his glasses, making him look sickly and pale. It was a stupid idea – she knew that it was impractical for him to sit in the darkness, and terribly cliché – but she couldn't imagine him any other way.

And then the alarm started.

As much as Isabella had been trying to prepare, and she'd half expected something like this, it was still startling. She flinched, and opened her eyes, staring at the wall. It was shrill and loud and non-stop. It rang and rang, and she knew he wasn't going to turn it off. It blared out into every room. It had only been going for a few seconds, and already it was grating on her nerves, wearing down her composure, burrowing into her brain through her ears, echoing through her head.

She covered her ears and shouted at him over the sound of it, hoping that he hadn't muted her, so he couldn't have to hear the alarm himself. "Okay, Edward! You've made your point!" Pressing her hands against her ears helped, and quietened it a little, but she knew that it wouldn’t be enough, in the long term. Even with her hands blocking it out slightly, the alarm still rang inside her skull. On and on and on. It was merciless. She kept her eyes tightly shut, and hunched over slightly in her seat. "You can turn it off now!"

Riddler: It was only a few seconds before she started yelling at him and he knew from that that it was working. It was getting to her. He had to gain her respect back somehow and this was the easiest way of doing it. With all the chaos going on outside, it wasn't like the alarm – if someone heard it – would be cared about by anyone other than the woman living in the apartment it was blaring from. She was yelling to turn it off, and Edward clicked the mute button to give himself a little silence.

[text: UNKNOWN]: What did you say? I can't hear you over the alarm! Wow, is that ever loud.

He texted her, letting out a small chuckle to himself. Beginning to feel a little better about taking the time off. He shouldn't have, of course... but at least he knew it was easy to get to her. He would have her respect back soon, it was only a matter of time. He made himself comfortable in his chair and turned on the television for a little background noise. The news, so he wouldn't miss Joker's capture. The capture that was bound to happen at some point. The entire bat-cast were active and on the streets right now. It would only be a matter of time before Batman caught the Joker.

Then again... Batman was acting a little strange when he saw him. It lifted Ed's spirits to hear that he needed his help. Just saying that made it clear that Batman did respect Ed's genius. The only problem was that he encountered a "Batman" just before. And who was to say that this wasn't just Superman dressing up, or someone else filling in. Someone needed to do it. Batman's words rung in his head. Was the man he encountered really Batman? Did he really respect him enough to ask for his help.

To offer him the game of his life? For a moment, he was lost in his own thoughts. Staring at the woman he used to love in the monitors. He could be helping Batman but he had to babysit her. He couldn't lose any more of her respect. She needed to understand what it was like for him.

Isabella: Ever since her train crash, Isabella had hated loud noises. She flinched at speeding cars, and jumped at sudden sounds, and always kept her TV and music slightly quieter than average. Being woken up by an alarm every morning, since being trapped here, had been bad enough, but this was awful. It was deafening, and her head was already starting to hurt a little.

After the calming shower, and a whole morning of silence, and quiet TV, she felt so much more sensitive. Her brain ached and the alarm kept going and going and going. She screwed her eyes shut and tried to think, but she was noticing tiny things about the alarm. The way there was a beat to it, like a heartbeat, like a drill, worming its way into her head. The way it looped, almost melodically, over and over. One ring faded into the next and into the next and into the next. It was shrill and constant and she couldn't think.

Her phone vibrated beside her, and she looked down at it. Her hands were pressed against her ears, trying to muffle the sound, but it hardly helped. She picked up her phone with one hand, and the noise became more ear-splitting without the cover of her hand. His text was so mocking, so cruel, that she wanted to scream in frustration. Oh, he was enjoying this. Of course he was.

She texted back furiously, trying to focus on her anger instead of the sound, ringing and ringing and ringing.

[text: UNKNOWN]: Turn it off, Edward. You've made your point. [text: UNKNOWN]: I get it. You're angry because you left me unsupervised. [text: UNKNOWN]: Stop punishing me for your mistake.

She dropped the phone immediately, but left it open, so she would be able to see his reply, and covered her ears again, trying to block out the incessant noise. Maybe she could find some headphones? They would be more sound-cancelling than just her hands. And, if she buried her head under several pillows, she could drown it out. But she didn't want to break so quickly. Maybe he would stop it before she had to resort to that.

Riddler: He read her texts. Stop punishing me for your mistake. He read and frowned to himself. It was his mistake, but he was the guard, not the prisoner. She was the one who always had to bear the consequences. That was how it worked, wasn't it? She said she got it, but she was still trying to tell him what to do. He couldn't turn it off when she asked him to. It would give her a sense of power, and this was a delicate game. She had to feel completely powerless the whole time. That was the real point of the game.

[text: UNKNOWN]: You know, I'm trying to turn it off right now! But it might be stuck. [text: UNKNOWN]: I think I recall seeing some earplugs in your drawer next to your bed. [text: UNKNOWN]: You should check there, that might help!

Ed looked over at his desk where he had placed the small box of confiscated items from her house. Inside of it were the earplugs he was talking about. But he wanted to see her get up and try to look for them. He wanted the frustration that came with realizing there was pretty much nothing concrete that would help cancel the sound of the alarm. Edward could force whatever cruel punishment he felt like against her and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She could beg all she wanted but she was a patient now at Nygma's Asylum. She was his new toy to play with... and his to break.

Isabella: Edward replied almost immediately, and Isabella stared down at his messages, and felt a sinking sort of horror in the pit of her stomach. He was lying, of course. He was playing with her. It was all a game to him. She couldn't think. The alarm was relentless. So loud and constant and piercing. She was pressing her palms so hard against her ears that she could feel the cartilage digging into her hands, but it wasn't making a difference. On and on and on. Her neck ached. Her head hurt. And, even though she knew he was lying, she knew that there wouldn't be any earplugs in her drawer, she had to check. Just in case. In case there was there was the slimmest chance for a scrap of mercy, a tiny act of compassion.

Besides, if she did what he told her, maybe he would be satisfied. Maybe, if she just looked for the obviously non-existent earplugs, he would see that she was willing to do what he said. She walked to her bedroom with her phone in one hand, still covering her ears tightly, pressing the phone against her left ear. She bent down beside her bedside drawer, trying to steel herself for what she knew she would see. And she opened it.

She'd known they wouldn't be there. Of course, he had taken anything that might give her relief. But it was still heart-rending to see the empty drawer, and Isabella felt something rise inside her throat, like a sob or a gasp or a scream, but she couldn't break. Had it even been ten minutes of relentless, nonstop, ear-piercing, noise? How long was he going to do this? People went mad from constant sound, didn't they? Was he going to drive her insane? Was he going to deafen her? She couldn't think, she couldn't focus, she couldn't hear anything except that alarm. Blaring and blaring. It rang through her skull and burrowed right into her core.

In an effort to get some peace, she walked over to her bed and covered her head with her pillows, pressing them against her head. No choice but to bear it. On and on. Screeching. Hurting. No choice. He would stop soon. He had to stop soon. She pulled the duvet over her head as well, and it muffled the sound ever so slightly. But it was inside her skull. Inside her head. After a few seconds of hiding, she texted him again, using one hand to keep her pillows against her ear.

[text: UNKNOWN]: Very funny.

She typed a text but didn't send it. Eddie, please. I can't stand it. That sounded so weak, so pathetic and broken, and she couldn't give him that satisfaction. She wouldn't grovel. It hadn't been an hour yet. Maybe she would feel differently after an hour of this headache-inducing onslaught of noise. But, right now, she wouldn't break.

[text: UNKNOWN]: Is there ANYTHING I can do to make it stop?

Riddler: He watched her walk into her bedroom. She opened the drawer, with nothing in it and unlike what he expected – didn't make a sound. He wanted her to yell, or to clearly be frustrated to the camera. Maybe she did without physically indicating it, but he wouldn't know. He had muted her because the sound was annoying to him as well. There was never an alarm that went off forever in Arkham, but there was always the screams of the insane. Every day, every night... constant screaming or laughing. Constant noise. He was treating her with a worse version of that. One she couldn't simply get used to.

She curled up under the covers and under the pillows. Trying to burrow herself in them to help ease the noise. He remembered doing the same from time to time with his much thinner blanket and cheaper pillows. He wasn't expecting to get another text from her, but his phone vibrated and he looked down at it.

[text: UNKNOWN]: I thought so.

He replied to her text, calling his little prank funny and he grinned a little to himself. There was something about this conversation, them being sarcastic to one another that reminded him of a simpler time. They used to fight like this when they were together. It was a lot more light-hearted than before.

There was a pause and then he received another one from her. Asking what she could do. Ed blinked in interest and looked back at her monitor. She was actually playing now. She wasn't just waiting for him to stop like usual. She was asking for an order. Asking if there was something she could do. He perked up a little as he thought about one. He missed making her think...

[text: UNKNOWN]: Actually, there is something you could do. [text: UNKNOWN]: You would have to get out of bed for it. [text: UNKNOWN]: Could you tell me a riddle I've never heard before?

Isabella: Isabella tried to relax as she lay in bed, under her duvet, but it was impossible. She felt like she was under attack. The sound – the constant sound – made her tense up automatically, and her muscles locked and her head felt like it was burning. The alarm had been so consistent now, ringing and ringing and ringing its high-pitched trill, that it felt like a part of her brain. It was like being beaten. It hurt to think. It hurt to do anything. Even covering her head with her pillow, trying to quieten the din, she felt like she was under fire. But she couldn't cry. She couldn't break down. Not yet.

Yet. Because she knew she would. If he kept this up for hours, it would wear her down. Isabella could practically feel the urge to beg him, to plead for him to stop this, right on the tip of her tongue. But she couldn't give in. She had to hold on, for as long as she could, until her mind started to fail her. She could still think, for now. Her brain ached, but she could still think. So, for as long as she could, she would bear this.

She didn't think he was going to reply. There was nothing she could do to stop this. He would keep blasting the sound until she burst into tears. Maybe he wouldn't even stop then. He wanted her to feel powerless, helpless, trapped. He wanted her to pay for her whole day of freedom. But then her phone buzzed again, and she stared at his messages, unable to believe what she was seeing. There was a way to stop this. He was giving her a way out.

But her skull was ringing with noise and she was desperately trying to focus on anything but the constant loop of the alarm. How could she write a riddle? How could she piece together something that the Riddler himself had never heard? It was impossible. Not like this. She wanted to tell him that she couldn't do it. But he wanted her to play, didn't he? Hadn't he called this a game? And he'd accused her of not making her move yet. She'd allowed herself to fall into the role of his victim immediately, without really fighting back, except for ignoring him. But now was her chance to. Now, she could prove to him that she could do this.

[text: UNKNOWN]: Fine.

Without anything more to say, Isabella took her head out from under the pillows. Her ears hurt, and her brain felt like it was being crushed, and the alarm was ringing and ringing. But she had to focus. She had to focus on this. It was her chance. So, she walked into the kitchen, carrying her phone with her, and picked a pad of paper and a pen from the counter. She sat down at the table, placing her phone on it, and stared at the blank page.

She knew, immediately, what she wanted the answer to be, and she wrote it down in the centre of the paper, hunching over it to shield it from him. And she started to mind map, frowning a little, writing frantically, desperately pulling synonyms and antonyms and adjectives from her aching head. She didn't think about Edward, and she tried to ignore the alarm, though it was almost impossible. But she had to do this. She had to prove herself to him.

Riddler: He wasn't expecting the woman to actually agree to his nearly impossible task. He had asked her to create a riddle he hadn't heard before, even under these conditions. The alarm blaring so loud, he doubted she could really think all that much... sure, he could do something like this pretty easily. But her whole life wasn't about the thrill of puzzles. He could pull a riddle out of thin air, she on the other hand had only been writing them since they started their first game about a year ago.

He watched as she got out of bed and walked into the kitchen. Getting her things together and setting up at the table, he was curious about the way she was going about it. It looked like a brainstorm but he couldn't read anything on the page with her bending over it, and also how far the camera was from her. He wanted to see her expression. The way her her eyebrows used to furrow and her lips would pull into a frown. It was always so clear to him when she was thinking. She didn't chew the end of her pen like he did, but she did had small habits besides her expression that could indicate she was deep in thought so he was focused on those. Her body language would change ever so slightly, so he was watching for that. Any slight indication that she was deep in thought was enough for Ed.

He missed her like this. The whole game and all she was doing so far was taking what he was throwing at her. She wasn't fighting back. She wasn't playing until now. And his heart nearly skipped a beat. He was excited that she was playing. Happy that she was finally using that beautiful brain of hers. He used to love her because she was intelligent and she wasn't showing him that the entire time she was trapped in there. Ed smiled slightly to himself, his eyes still glued to the monitor as she worked out her riddle for him.

Isabella: It was difficult to think. Isabella frowned, and stared down at the scribbled words, trying to link them together in some intelligent way. She had a small cluster of synonyms in one corner of the page, and she tapped the end of her pen on her lips and looked up, staring into space.

She knew that she couldn't beat Edward. There was no way she would be able to write something that he wouldn't be able to solve. But she'd consider this a triumph if she could even give him pause. If he took more than ten seconds to answer, then she would be proud of herself. Besides, he hadn’t asked her to write something he couldn’t solve. He’d asked her to write something he’d never heard before.

And there was a small, stupid, part of her that wanted to impress him, wasn't there? As ridiculous as that was, she wanted to impress him.

The alarm was deafening, and her head hurt. She stared at the wall, her mind spinning dizzyingly. One line rolled over and over in her head, a line from a document. Oh of course. Article One. While she still had, before it slipped away, she wrote it down quickly, and tried to drown out the sound of the agonising alarm by focusing on the words. The faster she was, the faster the noise would stop. But her brain was pounding inside her skull, and she kept getting distracted and losing her train of thought.

She scrawled down two lines, and then tore her gaze away from the paper again, to stare into the middle distance, biting the inside of her cheek. The slight tingling in her mouth, that should have been pain, distracted her from her headache, and from the incessant alarm.

She was determined to show off, so she bent over her paper again and wrote and rewrote several versions of the penultimate line, crossing some words out, replacing others. Was it ever like this for him? she wondered. Was it this difficult, this intellectually stimulating, this challenging? She'd wondered that before, when they had played their game almost a year ago. And this reminded her of that, in a way. Now, she was aching, and tired, and furious with him.

But when was the last time she'd thought this hard? When was the last time she'd tried? She felt more alive than she had done since becoming Edward's prisoner. As if writing this riddle, trying to play his game, trying to impress him, was waking her up again.

With the last line written, Isabella sat back and picked up the paper in one hand, chewing her lip pensively. It certainly wasn't her best, but it got the point across. With her free hand, she texted him quickly, not giving herself a moment to consider or doubt or change anything. The quicker she got this sent, the quicker he would shut off the awful alarm. It was deafening, and she just wanted it to stop.

[text: UNKNOWN]: I’m priceless when taken, and invisible when you have me. I can be seen in an open door, an unwatched room, a key. According to the U.N.G.A., all humans are born with me. What am I?

Riddler: It was a pleasure to watch her think again, to watch as she scribbled on the paper, eliminated words by scratching them out.... She had clearly a vision for the riddle. She probably wanted it to be as difficult for him, well- as difficult as she could make it under the amount of pressure she was under. The constant blaring of the alarm in her ears as she wrote. He felt a small feeling in his chest. A tiny sense of pride that she could do this under all the pressure he was putting her under. She was so determined, and god was it ever nice to see her finally playing with him. Ed watched her closely, waiting for her to send him the riddle.

When she did, he found the answer incredibly obvious but that wasn't the task he had set for her. He wanted her to write a riddle for him. That was all he asked from her. So, immediately, keeping his word. He reached over and shut off the alarm before sending her his answer.

[text: UNKNOWN]: Freedom.

Of course it was freedom, what else could it be? It could have been anything but she related it to the situation. He sighed. At least she was playing. He had to keep her playing somehow. He wanted her to take a turn on him, too. He couldn't just keep hitting her, as if she was a punching bag. She needed to hit him back. It wasn't any fun if she wasn't fighting back... It wasn't a game if it wasn't two players... He sighed to himself wondering how he should go about triggering her attack on him. He was hoping for a mental attack, a challenge of sorts.

[text: UNKNOWN]: If you want your freedom, fine. You're free to leave.

He sent, waiting for her reaction impatiently.

Isabella: Without warning, the alarm shut off, and Isabella didn't even try to hide her relief. She breathed out and visibly relaxed. The silence was unbelievable. The alarm was still ringing in her head, but she already felt more at ease, without the constant sound. He had kept to his word, and she was a little surprised. It was a very small act of kindness, but it was still an act of kindness. Then again, Edward had always been a victim of his rules. If he promised to turn the alarm off when she finished the riddle, then it would have odd for him not to do so.

Her phone vibrated, and she wasn't remotely surprised to see him nonchalantly answer it. Of course he'd got it. She hadn't checked to see if he'd taken more than 10 seconds – she'd been too distracted by the wonderful silence – but at least he hadn't used the mic. At least he'd let her have her silence. And he hadn't answered immediately, so she considered it a triumph. She sighed to herself, and looked up at the ceiling. "I know, it was cliche. But what did you expect?" And she felt such a wave of tiredness that she wanted to just lie her head on the table and close her eyes. He'd turned the alarm off, but how much longer would he keep her? When was he going to do something?

As if he'd read her mind, her phone buzzed again, and she stared at the message in disbelief. Was it a trick? Was it another test? Maybe there was a loop hole? He wanted her to leave, but only for a few hours. But she knew Edward. If he wanted her to have a time limit, surely he would have told her outright? Unless he wanted to play with her? And then, just like that, it clicked. He wanted her to play. He'd said he was happy to see her trying, in his text. And he was giving her her freedom so she could make her move against him. It was so like him, so moody and childish, that she felt suddenly endeared to him. He just wanted attention.

Isabella immediately pushed that thought away. It wasn't endearing. It was tragic. He wanted her to leave? He wanted to stop his turn, and give her hers? Well, he had no idea who he was dealing with. She stood up quickly, scraping her chair back, and picked up her phone. "I'm going to assume it's my turn, then," she said, coldly. "I'm going to leave for the rest of the day. I trust that you will have removed the cameras and microphones by the time I return tonight."

There was a pause, and she knew Edward was eagerly waiting to see what she'd do. So, she smiled hatefully up at the ceiling. He had given her a chance to get him back, and she was actually excited. Besides using her freedom to see her family and friends, she would hunt him down like a dog. "En garde, Eddie," she said. Then, without daring to ask if this was some sort of trap, she headed for the door.

#chatzy.#riddlemethat #emotional abuse tw #imprisonment tw #torture lite tw #[YOU GUYS HAVE NO IDEA]#[HOW LONG THIS TOOK]#[OR HOW MUCH TIME WENT INTO IT]#[IT HAS BEEN 84 YEARS]#[WELL OKAY IT'S BEEN A WEEK]#[BUT IT'S FINALLY HERE]#[WARNING: ED'S A JERK]#[AND YOU'LL WANNA HUG ISABELLA]

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