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shihalyfie · 3 years

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What went down with the DigiFes situation, from the community and translator perspective

I think the events of the last few days have gotten everyone in a huge fuss, and because everything got caught up in a lot of chaotic social media stuff, there’s been a lot of questions about what came from what and who knew what at what time. Fortunately, I happen to be:

Someone who’s a veteran in this fanbase and thus has a small handful of friends in this community, who also have their own friends

Someone who understands a little Japanese (although not as much as others in this community do) and therefore can read things in Japanese myself to some degree without needing someone else to translate it for me

So hopefully I can shed some light on what kinds of things were being discussed, and what was known and not known at what time in this fanbase with all of this.

The most important thing I want to establish is that there was no organized coalition or smear campaign. (Kind of ironic I have to say this when the topic at hand has so much to do with conspiracy theories.) I’m a veteran, I know friends who are veterans, they know other friends who are veterans but don’t know me at all. My friends usually agree with and like the same things I do, and I give them advice and assistance with my skillset when I can, and they return the favor. We pass things along through the grapevine, not through some super-secret club grapevine, just via the nature of social relationships and some Discord servers (multiple; again, not everyone knows each other). So these are my impressions of what happened, based on said grapevine.

How it all started

Konaka’s blog is long. Like, really long. Which is only natural, because he was recapping basically the entire 51 episodes of Tamers in excruciating detail, so no translator in this fanbase would be able to translate all of that and not lose their mind! So for the most part people who couldn’t read Japanese had pretty much given up on reading it (with maybe a few dedicated people using machine translation), and some people who understood Japanese would point out parts they found interesting, but for all intents and purposes it remained untranslated and not super-accessible to the mainstream. (Even the Japanese fanbase itself wasn’t super aware of the blog’s existence.)

So when that first post in May about 9/11 dropped, the people who did read Japanese started going “uh...”

At the time, the DigiFes stage reading hadn't been announced yet. So, in other words, everyone reading it only knew it as, functionally, him namedropping an alt-right YouTuber and praising his observations. The reaction from anyone reading the blog at the time was something along the lines of “disappointed and mildly concerned.” (Note the mildly.)

The posts in June about the Great Reset and the anti-vaccine sentiment were when people keeping an eye on the situation started to get really worried about how far this was going to escalate. At this point, I want to make something clear that may not be apparent to those who weren’t keeping up or who are outside the fanbase: Most of the translators and Japanese-reading people deliberately chose not to be too public about this at this time.

Why?

This is the irony surrounding the fact that said translators are now being accused of trying to further “cancel culture”: cancellation was absolutely not what anyone wanted back then! If anyone wanted to create a smear campaign, 9/11 conspiracies, the Great Reset, and anti-vaccine statements are already more than enough to make a starting case. But at the time, this was a blog that very few people (Japanese or otherwise) knew about, translating it would basically just boost its platform more than it would have had in the first place (which would be counterproductive), and -- well, let’s be real, it’s not hard to imagine that people might get reactionary over it, and people would go nuts. Was there any real benefit that would come out of that? Not really, no.

So at the most, those keeping an eye on it might have vented a bit on their personal accounts, but some even tried to self-censor with “[redacted]” or vagueposting, because this was a matter that needed to be handled with delicacy. Thus, there were “mild rumors through the grapevine” about what was going on, but those who knew were trying to hold back with restraint and mostly inform people quietly in the hopes of this not needing to become some kind of huge social media campaign.

(Also, to be a bit blunt about it, it’s really hard to be in front of someone who loves Tamers and is gushing about it and showing admiration for Konaka, knowing all of this and wanting to say something, but feeling like a jerk if you pop their bubble like “also, he’s probably an alt-right conspiracy theorist now.” Not to say that the ignorance-is-bliss concept is always a good thing, but...)

But since the blog posts in question were discussing the prospect of having his sentiments in fiction, everyone reading them was on edge anticipating what might be in store for DigiFes. The hope was that it might blow over. Hopefully, everything would be in the form of subtle themes with plausible deniability, it would all stay within the realm of “it’s not worth causing a fuss over this,” that would be the end of it, and we’d all move on with our lives.

Unfortunately, “Political Correctness is activating Cancel Culture” isn’t exactly subtle.

DigiFes and the aftermath

I think it’s too easy to assign too much responsibility to the fansub group that was indirectly responsible for breaking the news for all of this, but actually, the truth is, this would have gotten out anyway.

Even when the stream itself was going on, there were Japanese livebloggers, and there were also English speakers who caught on that something was happening with “the Tamers fighting political correctness”. Some hours later, an upload of the stream went live on YouTube, and quite a few people started watching it and caught onto what was going on. If the fansub group that released the now-infamous version hadn’t done it, I’m absolutely certain someone else would have eventually (perhaps in a different language first, but nevertheless). And even before then, information about what the hell was going on was already starting to circulate in broken and incomplete forms. That fansub solidified what was going on, and perhaps accelerated the moment the bomb dropped on everyone, but if it hadn’t been there, it would have happened much more gradually and chaotically.

On top of that, while the use of Western alt-right rhetoric (seriously, please do not try to bring the “injecting Western politics into Japanese media” argument here when all of us are asking him to take the Western politics out) meant that it went over most of the Japanese audience’s heads (hence your answer to “who approved this?”), there was at least one Japanese person who was politically savvy enough to call it out for what it was in disgust. (I’m not linking them here because I’m not dumb enough to fling them in a place where some of you trigger-happy people will go after them.) They didn’t even need to be super in-tune with Western politics to get it; they understood enough to tell that there were some pretty alarming extremist views in there. If they understood that much, it was naturally going to follow that the Western side was definitely going to become aware one way or another.

Even all that aside, at the very least, said fansub is accurate; imagine how much worse this situation would have been if someone else had taken it up and confused things further with a misleading translation, or, worse, deliberately messed with the contents. Basically, this debacle could have easily been a lot worse.

I don’t think anyone expected this to get as big as it did (as in, to the point mainstream anime reporters outside the fanbase picked up on it). There was a similar tri. reading back in 2016, but even a lot of the hardcore fanbase barely remembers it exists! These aren’t even supposed to be canon, either! But when you have that disclaimer at the front, and the contents are really like that, it was probably inevitable for it to become a social media sensation. I mean the contents...sure are a thing.

One thing I should point out about the disclaimer is that it only mentions the program itself. It doesn’t bring up the blog, and it doesn’t bring up who wrote this scenario, just the fact that the program contains alt-right rhetoric and conspiracy theories. Because it does! It’s not even technically praising or condemning the content within, it just says “we don’t agree with it”! What the group did condemn was...approaching staff about it (and especially starting a fight). Because, in the end, that’s what the disclaimer was for: a heads-up about what was in there, and an added reminder that the people translating this are just translating it for the sake of informational purposes. Or, in other words:

It was a content warning. Even without the disclaimer, there were many, many people who would have recognized the contents for what they were and been caught by it unawares, and become upset by it. There were many people who said that they were glad to have that there because it at least gave them some time to mentally prepare for what they were about to be slapped with!

It really, really was a disclaimer. When you have something that level of extremely politically charged stuff, it’s only natural to start suspecting that the translation group had an agenda (official translations tend to get this a lot when content is remotely political). But no, the translation group did their due diligence, even if their opinions were starkly opposed to what was in there.

I was not personally involved in that translation, but I’ll give you this (copy-pasted with permission, from someone who wasn’t technically involved directly in it but was privy to discussions while it was being done):

no we brought up all of those questions like the fact that Yamaki's clearly off his rocker and this isn't supposed to be taken seriously in the first place or that maybe if we're lucky he'll just sound like a fake woke boomer but no matter how you slice it the plot is about him "convincing" the unbelieving Takato and co. into rallying up against the true enemy of Political Correctness and that's just literally the alt-right playbook in a nutshell

the thing even made it to YouTube, we were basically racing against the clock

I mean I really want to say this is plausible deniability but I don’t know how you can get any less subtle than this, this is not something you can mince words

like I really wish we could pass this off as “as long as you don’t know the blog you can take this innocently as political commentary or something” but I honestly don’t think this is something you can take innocently even without context

tbh the Political Correctness part is the most cringeworthy but Yamaki’s rant about fact checkers being evil and all that is probably a lot more worrying when you think about it

tbh I’ve never felt as conflicted about what’s the right thing to do as I do now

So in other words, it was not a reckless decision to just tack on a political label; it was done after a lot of consideration about the consequences to put the label on and what people would think of it with or without context, whether there might be a glimmer of light possibility to try and pass this off as more innocuous as it was, and eventually a determination that, in the end, there was indeed alt-right rhetoric in the program, and should be labeled accordingly.

The result was that, of course, everything broke out on social media, chaos burst out, a lot of hearts were unfortunately broken, and a lot of alt-righters started invading spaces accusing people of proving him right with cancel culture. Ironically, my personal observation is that, while there were exceptions, most people in the actual fanbase did honor the requests to not harass people about it, and this may actually be the most solidarity I’ve ever seen from the Digimon fanbase in my life, which is saying a lot considering how we usually tend to be a drama magnet most of the time. The ones who were actually directly messaging him were his newfound supporters locking down on offering him “support against people trying to cancel him” (I think they were more heartbroken and upset at him than anything...), and most of the harassment came from alt-righters not even in the fanbase, namesearching and sending harassing, accusatory messages to anyone involved for as much as expressing mild dismay. (You want to talk about harassment and being attacked for having an opinion? Pot, meet kettle.)

This leads us back to the question of the blog: if you’ll remember, I just said that the fansub in question did not bring it up at all. That’s because, at the beginning, there was no intention to bring it up if it wasn’t necessary; this was not intended as a smear campaign. The warning was attached to the DigiFes program because it was about the DigiFes program. But the resulting chaos had a lot of people bring up the blog because it better contextualized what was going on, and discussion led to people looking it up themselves and posting fragments of it on social media, sometimes even using machine translate.

Ultimately, that’s the reason this document was released: it was the same reason as the fansub being released at the time it was, which was “if it hadn’t been released, the alternative was watching things get disseminated more slowly and chaotically.” I will say outright that I was one of the people who got to lay eyes on that document before it was publicly released (and even helped out with some advice here and there); it’s no secret that it was being quietly passed around as an internal memo prior to the outbreak. The original version of the document had a request to not post it on public social media because of the chaos it would cause, and while I don’t know how many people got to see it before it was released, I’m under the impression that it was enough people that I was quite surprised everyone who saw it respected that request.

Why does the document contain a ton of analysis and debunking on top of just the translations? Well, when you’re translating those blog posts, you’re technically giving it a bigger platform (which was one of the reasons it was originally considered better to not post it publicly). Since the document exists primarily to inform people, especially about why certain things that may seem innocuous actually have wider context behind them, it’s going to need to contain an analysis like that.

The summary

There were a lot of decisions involved by a lot of different people through all parts of this ordeal. I think it’s fair to criticize whether they were the right decisions in retrospect or whether certain things should have been done slightly differently (including my small role in this), but nevertheless, it was one where the risks involved were thought through and taken into account in every step of the situation, with a desire to avoid chaos, or at least prevent it from getting too much worse. When you have contents like this, a controversy honestly is inevitable -- how on earth are you going to be able to put contents like Yamaki reciting off all the typical alt-right YouTuber talking points and ending in Political Correctness activating Cancel Culture and not expect that to make a stir at some point? -- and so, in the end, this wasn’t so much a conscious attempt at stirring the pot as much as it was the dam finally breaking, and a desire to keep it from spilling over too much. Nobody coordinated this! I think everyone just really hates drama.

Knowing all the steps and thoughts that went on behind all of this, I think being reactionary or accusatory for clout is the last thing anyone involved wanted to be. Considering just how many of these steps above could have easily been made into exposure, from the posts all the way back in May and June to the internal memo document that was made to keep friends quietly informed but could have been leaked to the public with only one bad actor, there was an active, common desire among people who didn’t even know each other to try and minimize the potential damage as much as possible. When you look at the situation now, of course it looks awful and hardly like something that came out of “trying to minimize damage”, but in reality there’s only so much you can do when the contents really are like that, and I personally believe everyone involved was doing what they thought was their best option as the situation kept changing.

I can’t speak for anyone else, especially since I don’t even know most of the people involved, and I didn’t have much of a role in all of this, but I think everyone involved, myself and my friends and everyone who’d been keeping tabs on this situation for months, has been going through a lot of heartbreak and conflict over what to do next, so please understand that there was a lot of thought put into all of it, and that it really was a difficult situation no matter how you look at it.

#digimon #digimon tamers

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aminiatureworld · 3 years

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Melusine

Characters: Albedo, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,221

Warnings: Brief depiction of pseudo-drowning

Premise: In which the reader’s somewhat inexplicable fear of water prompts questioning

Author’s Note: This prompt reminded me of the book (and series) The Tail of Emily Windsnap, which, if you haven’t read at least the first book, you totally should read as it’s just really a wonderful read. The descriptions of the ocean are especially atmospheric. Anyways, as for the prompt, I had a lot of fun. I tried to write a mermaid story in middle school and while it didn’t go that well I have a lot of nostalgia for the mermaid genre. Though this was more about the discovery than actually being a mermaid.

Also the title is a pseudo-historical reference.

Albedo

The first time it had happened Albedo had brushed off the whole incident as completely explainable. After all, it wasn’t as if you hadn’t explained what had happened.

You two had been sitting on one of the craggy hills of the Whispering Woods, you sprawled on the grass, Albedo attempting to paint a landscape of Mondstadt, one of the more ambitious paintings in his current portfolio. Especially since he had traded his more opaque oils for the gentler tones of watercolors. At one point he must have made some sort of noise of frustration, for you lifted yourself out of the shade and made your way over to the canvas.

“That looks absolutely lovely Albedo!” Your smile had always had a calming affect on the alchemist, and this time was no different. Albedo could feel the tension slowly leeching away from his shoulders.

“Do you think so? I’m afraid that I still can’t handle all the odd shadows the buildings cast.”

“The buildings look perfect to me! Though if you feel that way, maybe you could lighten the side facing the sun a little more instead of darkening the area over here? So the shade doesn’t become too muddy.”

“You have a wonderful eye, you know,” Albedo replied, smiling at the way your mind had immediately jumped to the conclusion that he had drawn as well. Reaching for the bowl of water next to him Albedo went to water his brush a little more before trying again.

Unfortunately that’s when things appeared to have taken a turn for the wrong. Instead of reaching over the bowl Albedo’s elbow collided with the glass. Though the grass was soft and close enough to prevent any damage, that didn’t stop all the muddied water from spilling out over the brim and right over you. You let out a sort of squeak, and for a moment Albedo though it was just the initial shock, but then the expression on your face came into view and Albedo could immediately sense you were seconds away from panic.

“Is something wrong?”

“I, I don’t like water very much,” you let out a strained laugh. “I just, I don’t know. I really, really don’t like water.”

“I’m so sorry,” Albedo immediately replied.

Taking off his coat he did his best to dry you off, wiping off your arms and attempting a valiant effort with your now sopping clothes. Though you assured him that it would be alright the alchemist could sense those were only platitudes, and it wasn’t until you seemed significantly calmer that Albedo turned to pick up the bowl and refill it in Cider Lake. And though a part of his mind wished to delve deeper into what had happened he pulled himself back, figuring it wouldn’t help you if he was suddenly enquiring over something you were afraid of.

Now perhaps that should have been the long and the short of it, but the revelation had begun to make Albedo see water everywhere and, more importantly, see how much it appeared to affect you every time you appeared to come in close contact with it.

Thankfully you didn’t seem to have trouble with water in glasses, at least as long as someone was actively drinking it. If not however you would glance at the glass every so often, as if it were your mortal enemy, waiting to catch you off guard to it might tip its contents all over your clothes. Other things, like obsessively drying your wands after washing them and draping layers of towels over your shoulders when you washed your hair, also became apparent. Suddenly Albedo couldn’t stop noticing your discomfort, and the more he noticed the more he wished he could do something about it.

“Exposure therapy?”

“Yes.”

You were sitting on Albedo’s desk, leaning slightly over your partner, a slightly bemused look on your face. It had been about three weeks since the incident, and finally Albedo thought he might have found some sort of solution to your problem. Now he eagerly pressed forward, figuring you’d understand once he’d explained everything fully.

“I know that it might seem counterproductive to subject you to what gets a frightened reaction out of you, but if you subject a person to something they’re afraid of in very small doses over a long period of time, usually they begin to feel a little less afraid of the thing in question. It’s sort of like how you can sometimes make allergies less serious by slowly exposing the patient to more and more of the allergen.”

“I understand where your line of thought is coming from Albedo, but I’m really not sure if this is the best idea for me.”

“I know that it might seem daunting at first. I would not bring up the topic if you didn’t seem so miserable sometimes. I worry that you might become so unhappy by your fear that it will become debilitating eventually. That is why I decided to bring up the option.”

“I really appreciate you going out of your way to think about me Albedo. I really do. I think what you’re trying to do is very kind and noble of you. But in all honesty I don’t think that’s going to work. You see, the way my fear works, I just don’t think that exposure is going to make it go away.”

“Are you sure?” Albedo pressed on, still hoping that you might see the benefit in what he was suggesting. “It won’t start with something drastic I promise. And at the end of the day, I think that it will help a lot.”

“I understand that, I really do, but like I said my fear doesn’t work that way.” You paused, as if sensing the sinking of your partner’s heart, before smiling slightly. “If it makes you feel any better I promise to give it some more thought. Alright?”

“Thank you,” Albedo replied, though in his mind he knew that you thinking about it probably wouldn’t change anything.

Thus the cycle continued, with Albedo growing more and more uneasy. He didn’t bring it up with you again, sensing it would be walking over some invisible line, but still his mind whirled in trying to understand what you meant. If your fear wasn’t simply irrational, then surely something must have happened once. Though the alchemist didn’t pry, surely if you wanted him to know you would tell him in your own time, he had to admit that sometimes his brain went off on various daydreams, as if trying to decide for itself what might have happened.

As it turned out, Albedo didn’t have to speculate for long. Nor did the truth come out the way that he had expected.

You two were on the very small dock at Cider Lake, checking the rafts were tied down properly before the beginning of the stormy season that wreaked havoc through Mondstadt once every year. Though normally you probably would have never done such a thing the Guild was spread thin, preparing for storms, though not nearly as fierce as Dvalin’s winds, that would blow shingles off roofs and destabilize the occasional out of place rock on the wall. As of such the task of shielding the boats used to carry supplies from the City to the larger Mondstadt region had fallen to you. Albedo had tagged along, knowing how uncomfortable the experience might make you feel, and unwilling to leave you alone in a state of anxiety.

“These remaining boats are the ones we need to tie down. They’re too big to be stored in the sheds inside the City.”

“I see,” Albedo replied, already moving to nail the tarp down on one of them as you secured the roping. Already the air seemed alive with the fresh smell of impending rain.

“It’s too bad really, we can’t guarantee these boats’ safety the way we can the others. Thankfully these ones are mostly insured by the Knights. Though really maybe we should build a larger shed,” you mused to yourself, keeping up the tell-tale stream of conversation that Albedo knew you used to distract yourself.

“Perhaps you can make a query via the Guild?”

“Perhaps,” you mused. “Or I might be able to ask Amber.”

Albedo replied that would be a good idea, turning to put another temporary nail onto the top of the longboat. All seemed alright for a moment, then there was a shriek and a terrific splashing sound. Whirling around Albedo had just enough time to find your head in the water before you seemed to seize up and your head dipped below the still crystal-clear waves.

Immediately Albedo stripped himself of his coat and dove in. Though no amazing swimmer himself the alchemist was hardly the worst at staying afloat, and even if he only knew a select few amount of swim strokes that paled in comparison to the idea of you drowning. Making his way over to you he fought the panic rising up inside of him, the part of his brain that said it would be much more difficult to rescue someone terrified of water.

However almost as soon as Albedo approached you he noticed that something was distinctly off. Firstly you didn’t seem like you were drowning, in fact you appeared quite graceful in the water, swishing softly back and forth. Secondly the reason for said grace quickly became apparent to Albedo. For in the spot where your legs should have been, indeed in the spot where your legs had been mere moment ago was something long and slightly shimmery and distinctly fish-like.

Letting his mouth fall open Albedo immediately hoisted himself up above the water, choking on the gasp of breath he had found himself taking. What was that, what in all of Teyvat was that? You were half fish. How were you half fish? Did such a thing even exist, for Albedo had certainly never heard of it! Though the alchemist later admitted that in the moment such fantasy creatures as merfolk had completely fallen out of his head, there was something distinctly different than reading about something in a book and seeing it in real life.

Dragging himself onto the shores of Cider Lake, Albedo waited for you to emerge, still breathing heavily from what had just passed. His brain seemed to shut off them, for he found himself with no questions to ask. You were a mermaid, you were simply a mermaid. There was nothing more to do or say about it.

Eventually you joined him on the beach. Albedo watched in an odd sort of fascination as your legs emerged from the scaley fin which your lower body was now made up of. For a moment individual spots of iridescent seemed to remain, but soon your limbs were back to normal, ignoring the fact that you were soaking wet.

“So now you know why I said exposure therapy wouldn’t work out,” you said, letting a grim sort of laugh escape your lips.

“You… you are a… a…”

“A merfolk, yeah,” you laughed awkwardly. “Not sure why I get stuck with the weird power that is more annoying than good but, you know, oops?”

Albedo could sense your vulnerability, but try as he might he couldn’t get the words to come out of his throat. For a moment he sat there, gasping like a fish, but finally the expression of muted misery on your face wormed its way into his brain and finally Albedo felt as if he had regained some ability to talk.

“I think it’s fascinating.”

“Of course you do.”

“No, really. And not just because this is something I’ve never experienced or seen before. Though it was really surprising, it was also wonderful. As an alchemist you study all the wonders and anomalies of nature, and in doing so you see all these differences aren’t just something to be written down, but they also beautiful. And so I think you’re really beautiful.”

“Thanks,” you replied, though you still seemed uncomfortable. “I just, yeah…”

Reaching over to find your hand in his Albedo squeezed your palm softly. For a moment you did nothing, then, slowly, you leaned your head on Albedo’s shoulder. Letting you stay there Albedo found himself wishing that he could convey all the emotions he felt in that moment to you.

“I know that it can be difficult to talk about things that you’ve kept secret, especially when you feel like they make you stand out in a bad way. But I promise, there is nothing wrong with that. And I hope if I made you feel uncomfortable in any way that I can apologize.”

“Thanks Albedo,” you murmured. “You don’t have to say sorry, but thanks anyways.”

“Always.”

“I love you, you know?”

“I love you too.”

Albedo planted a soft kiss on your forehead. As the boats sat, woefully forgotten, the two of you basked in each other’s presence. For Albedo a mystery had been solved, and explanation given that, while not necessarily scientific, was certainly satisfactory. Yet at that moment he couldn’t care less about it. All he could think about was how lonely it must have been, and how, if he could help it, you would never feel isolated in your discomfort or in your secret ever again.

#genshin impact fanfiction #albedo x reader #genshin albedo #genshin impact #requested #oneshot #my writing

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mochegato · 3 years

Text

An Irrevocably Gone Heart

Tim tugged on her arm. “You’re coming with me.”

“What?” Marinette exclaimed a little louder than she meant to. She immediately looked around to see if any of the other party goers had noticed them and cringed at the eyes on her. She gave them a weak smile and moved closer to Tim, who was still pulling them toward the stairs. “No, no, no, no. This is a family thing.” She tried to pull away discretely but Tim had her arm in a firm lock. Damn vigilante training. She could break out of it of course, but not without making a scene in front of a growing audience, which was starting to include his family.

They were all moving to the stairs like Tim was, and unwillingly her as well, to stand behind Mr. Wayne as he addressed the crowd at his New Year’s party. She briefly looked over to them to see if they had noticed her yet. One of the brothers in particular, Jason, had observed the interaction between her and Tim and was watching her carefully. She accidentally met his eyes and couldn’t look away. She saw a flicker of interest and amusement in his eyes and blushed at the attention. She was so caught up in his eyes, she stumbled slightly, giving Tim the advantage in dragging her the last few feet to the stairs.

“You’re like family. In fact, I like you more than most of my family so… You’re coming.” Tim grinned at her mercilessly. She couldn’t get away now without causing a stir in the crowd, drawing all eyes away from Mr. Wayne and to her. She was caught and they both knew it, trapped by societal convention. He pulled her onto the stairs next to him and the rest of the family, facing the crowd of party goers and reporters.

“Okay first, I hate being in front of a lot of people. Second, this seems incredibly counterproductive,” Marinette hissed quietly at him.

“Depends on your goal,” he said with a polite, fake smile, keeping his eyes on the crowd. “Now smile for the cameras, Love.”

Marinette groaned quietly at him and turned to face the crowd with the practiced, PR worthy smile Adrien had taught her. She stood a polite distance from Tim, making it clear that although she was here with him, she wasn’t here with him. Tim chuckled devilishly and pulled her closer to him, slinging his arm around her shoulders. “I’m going to make you pay for this.” She threatened through gritted teeth and a beautiful smile. “You know who I am but you won’t know where I am and you will never see me coming.”

“Calm down, Trevor. And you’re welcome.” His smile turned real and his eyes glistened with mirth. “Tomorrow our picture, and more importantly your clothes, will be everywhere in Gotham.”

As soon as Bruce was done with his welcoming speech, they bolted from the stairs to escape his family’s and reporter’s questions. Tim guided her as they ran through the maze of the manor. They finally stopped running in a back hallway, doubling over in laughter and out of breath. “Oh man, my family is going to drive themselves insane trying to figure out who you are.”

Marinette closed her eyes and groaned. “How did this help? It’s only going to make Bruce more curious about me to make sure I’m not a gold-digger or using you.”

“Marinette, calm down. You aren’t using me or abusing our friendship to get your name out there. It was my idea and as I recall, to get you to let me commission you for the suit and come with me, I had to blackmail you int...” She lunged at him to slam her hands over his mouth.

She glared at him as she looked around to see if anyone heard them. As soon as she was sure nobody was around to hear them, missing the body listening to them around the corner, she batted at Tim with a pout. “They don’t know that and how are you going to explain it?”

“I’ll figure it out without saying anything important.” He looked back in the general direction of the party. “We should get back though.”

“Ugh, fine, but I’m not staying until midnight just for some trust fund prick to try to ‘slum it’ for a night with me. And next time, you come with your boyfriend, not me. And I can design both of your suits instead.” She adds with a smug grin.

“If you can get him into a suit, deal.” Tim scoffed. “Good luck with that by the way. Come on, give me one dance as a reprieve before I have to be sociable. And if any other trust fund pricks try anything with you, I promise to destroy them.” He gave her a wink.

“Like I need you to do that for me.” She snarked at him.

“Oh definitely not, but it would give me an acceptable excuse to leave the party.” Tim shrugged with a smile.

Jason watched them walk back toward the party from his spot tucked away in an alcove. Well, this night was certainly more interesting than he had anticipated. He followed them back to the party and kept an eye on the friends as they danced. The woman, Marinette, seemed to be having an awfully good time dancing and joking with Tim considering he was ‘blackmailing’ her, but then again if they were friends, like it seemed they were, it was likely to be more embarrassing than damning.

As far as Jason could tell, despite how much she had complained to Tim earlier, Marinette was handling the crowd brilliantly. She managed to make the rounds at the party talking pleasantly with quite a few people. A few of her conversation partners had been attending Wayne parties for years and tonight was the first night Jason saw them give a genuine smile. But, if anyone made the mistake of trying to touch her a little too intimately or make a comment that was a bit too suggestive, or just flat out insulting, she sent them a dark glare that would make Batman proud and crowded their personal space in a way that had the aggressor backing away intimidated and Jason impressed.

Jason tore his eyes away from Marinette and moved to the bar to get some liquid patience. Tim might be a natural at mingling but he needed a little help to deal with this crowd. The only interesting part of the entire evening had been Tim’s friend. She had wandered around the room with an effortless grace and stood up for herself with just as effortless strength. It was a hard balance to maintain and she pulled it off beautifully, just like the rest of herself.

Jason set his empty drink down and looked down the bar for the bartender. He didn’t find the bartender, but he did find the stunning woman herself sitting alone with an empty seat next to her. He moved quickly, seeing a few other men eying her with interest as well. “Is this seat taken?” He asked with a charming smile.

“It is not.” She said tiredly, not even bothering to look up. “My date isn’t using it right now.”

“Smooth.” Jason nodded in approval. “Timbo would just push me out if he wanted the seat. Well, he’d try anyway.” He took the seat and ordered another drink from the newly appeared bartender. “Want a refill?”

“I’m good thank you.” She continued staring at her drink.

Jason grinned at her. She wasn’t remotely interested in playing nice just for the sake of propriety. She wasn’t rude, just not easily impressed. “I’m Tim’s brother, Jason.”

She looked over at him in surprise and immediately cringed internally. He was the brother she had embarrassed herself gaping at earlier. “Oh, I’m sorry. Hi. Nice to meet you. I’m Marinette.” She reached her hand out to him with a smile. “Sorry, I thought you were another… never mind. Hi.”

He gave her a disarming smile and shook her hand. “Don’t worry about it, I understand. The kind of people who come to this are… rich is the nicest thing to say about almost any of them. And you know what they say, eat the rich.” He dropped her hand but kept his eyes on her.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Aren’t you rich?”

He chuckled. “No, Bruce is. I make my own, significantly less red carpeted, way.”

She looked at him skeptically then eyed his tuxedo. “Awfully expensive tux for someone who isn’t rich.” She commented wryly.

“Bruce’s party, he wants me here, he pays. I don’t normally wear suits, let alone ones that cost more than six month’s rent.”

She studied the tuxedo again. “Six months, huh? That still affords you a pretty nice apartment by Gotham standards.”

He bobbed his head to the side in acknowledgement and studied her again, trying to make sense of her. “So, what does he have on you?”

She cocked her head to the side and stared at him in confusion as she tried to figure out what he meant. Her face scrunched in annoyance and her entire posture stiffened once she figured it out. “If you think Tim has to blackmail me into being his friend, you vastly underestimate your brother’s charms.”

“No I don’t.” Jason scoffed at her. “I meant bringing you here.”

She raised an eyebrow at him and set her mouth in a firm line. “You think he has to blackmail me to spend time with him? How is that better?”

“I think he blackmailed you to get you to come to this specific event. And I think that because I heard him say it to you in the hallway a little bit ago.” Jason responded matter-of-factly, taking another swig of his drink.

“Ah…” She looked back down at her drink and took a long sip trying to figure out how to respond. Well on the bright side, he wasn’t insulting Tim with his question, he was trying to understand if she was a threat. But, she wasn’t going to make it that easy for him. She looked back over to him and gave him a pointed look. “If it was something I wanted to share, it wouldn’t be blackmail material.”

Jason grinned at her “True.” Still staring at her expectantly.

“Let’s just say there are things I would rather… uh…” she looked around cautiously, “Bruce Wayne, not know about me.”

Jason raised an eyebrow at her. “Is that so?”

“Yeah… Oh! No. Nothing like that. I’m not like Catwoman or one of the sirens or anything.” She waved her hands frantically in front of her.

He chuckled. “Honestly I don’t think that would be considered an issue for him.”

She cocked her head to the side, “True. The most bizarre relationship ever.”

“Not when Joker and Harley once existed.”

“Most appalling relationship ever.”

Jason chuckled and looked into his glass until he realized what she had said. “Wait, how did you know…”

“What?”

“Catwoman and…” he motioned vaguely with his hand. She hadn’t confirmed she knew Bruce was Batman and he wasn’t about to out that particular secret if she didn’t know.

“Ohh,” She nodded in understanding and gave him a grin. “Your family isn’t as slick as they think they are, Red.”

Jason stared at her dumbfounded for a few seconds. She knew their secret and apparently Tim, the one person that matched Bruce in paranoia, wasn’t worried about her in the least. “And he’s blackmailing you?” Jason asked incredulously. “How bad is your secret?”

“Not bad just… I don’t need someone critiquing all my life choices, you know? It’s a threat of annoyance, not retribution.”

“Mood.” Jason said lifting his glass to hers. She clinked hers to his with a sardonic smile.

She was beautiful, smart, elegant, tough, funny, judicious, cautious, and far out of his league. But he was here now and they were having fun and he wasn’t stupid enough to blow a brilliant opportunity. Jason gazed over his shoulder toward the dancefloor and back to her. He looked her up and down and gave her a roguish smile. “Care to dance?”

“I didn’t take you for a dancer.” She responded as she moved toward the dancefloor and held out her hand for him.

He grabbed her hand, holding it close to his chest and wrapped his other hand around her waist, pulling her closer to him. “It has its advantages.”

Marinette looked up at him with wide eyes, a light blush dusting her cheeks. “I see what you mean.” She ducked her head trying to collect herself. He wasn’t the first handsome man she’d danced with, why was this one making her lose her composure? She wasn’t 15 anymore, damn it!

“So how did you figure it out?” he asked casually. He clearly wasn’t upset, just curious.

“How does everyone not? Seriously, Bruce admitted it under oath.” She scoffed. “Plus you guys are terrible at hiding it. You don’t even try to act or look different. Oh look Bruce Wayne has a new ward or person who hangs out with the family all the time. Oh look, there’s a new vigilante with the same build and hair color. Pure coincidence surely. Then there’s the whole butts match thing.”

“Wow, been studying Bruce’s butt that closely, huh?” Jason raised an unamused eyebrow at her.

“Who said anything about Bruce’s butt?” She asked without thinking about it. Jason spluttered at her. Her eyes widened and her face paled as she realized what she had just said.

“Forget I said that,” she pleaded, her face turning bright red.

“Oh fuck no. That’s the best compliment I’ve ever gotten. A gorgeous woman has been studying my ass so intently she was able to identify me by it?” He gave her a brilliant smile so wide, his cheeks would surely hurt the next morning. “My ego will never come down from this.”

Marinette groaned in embarrassment and buried her head in her hands and then buried her head and hands in his chest, trying to erase all evidence of her existence. Jason wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly as he roared with laughter. Marinette could feel his body vibrating with the sound. The movement calmed her enough that she was willing to remove her hands from her face but not her face from his chest. “I hope you’ll let me return the favor someday.” He whispered in her ear.

Marinette jerked her head back to look at him, her eyes wide and cheeks a deep crimson. When her eyes met the wicked glint in his, she narrowed hers, a hint of a smile on her lips. “Good luck with that. Magic is a hell of a thing.”

Jason looked at her confused. That was not a response he was expecting… or understood. They stared in each other’s eyes for a few moments, both trying to figure out something about the other. Marinette finally broke the silence with a teasing smile. “So, you’re Jason, huh? I’ve heard a few things about you.” She chuckled lightly when he rolled his eyes at that and groaned lightly. “Did you really do a flip off of one building to crash through the skylight of another and beat up a bunch of henchmen then set their drug room on fire all while quoting Shakespeare?”

He barked out a loud laugh and smiled brightly at her, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “It was Austen.”

She smiled back at him but quickly narrowed her eyes and quirked her head to the side. “Prove it,” She challenged him, a playful lilt in her voice. He looked at her questioningly not sure how exactly he was supposed to crash through a skylight when there wasn’t one here. “Quote some Austen to me. I have a hard time believing the formidable… you, is secretly a book nerd.”

A delighted smile creeped onto his face. Marinette was the first person to ask him about his love for literature and encourage him to indulge in it. He tried to remember all the many Jane Austen quotes he’d memorized through reading and rereading her works so often. What would be the most impressive quote? Which one would wow her the most? He ransacked his brain, but suddenly his mind was blank. He couldn’t think of anything. The harder he tried to remember, the harder it was to think. He opened and closed his mouth a few times.

Marinette watched the panic flit across his eyes. She cringed internally. She got anxiety when she was put on the spot. Jason must be the same. It was one thing to do it in the heat of the moment, without thinking about it, but being asked to perform on demand, was a different kind of pressure. She gently cupped his cheek and brought his eyes back down to hers and gave him a soft smile. “Maybe you can show me later. I’ll still be impressed tomorrow.”

He looked in her eyes and instantly felt himself calm down. Her eyes were shining with compassion, like she understood exactly what was going on in his head and believed in him. He pulled her closer and gave her a tender smile in return. He ran his fingers slowly up and down her back, “The very first moment I beheld you, my heart was irrevocably gone.” He quoted quietly.

Marinette gasped at his frankness. She leaned her head against his chest, trying to hide the deep blush that enveloped her cheeks and spread to her ears. After a few moments of silent swaying in his arms, she cleared her throat and weakly spoke, “That… yeah, uh… that works. Point proven.”

He chuckled lightly, a proud smile working its way onto his face. He moved his hand so they were both wound around her waist, holding her close to him. She settled further into his chest, causing him to sigh contentedly. They danced together for a while, refusing others that attempted to cut in with either one of them, Marinette doing so significantly more politely than Jason did. After a while, Tim tapped her on the shoulder. “I thought I was your date.” He stated with a suspicious smile.

“Oh fuck off, Timbers.” Jason grunted at him, twirling Marinette so she was on the other side of him from Tim.

Marinette poked her head out around Jason’s side to give Tim a sheepish look. “Sorry, Tim. You were busy. Did you need a break from socializing?”

“Uh huh,” he responded sarcastically. “No, I’m good. And I thought you weren’t going to stay until midnight? Something…” he eyed Jason meaningfully, “come up?”

Marinette looked at him in surprise and searched for a clock. Surely it hadn’t been hours. If felt like it had just been a few minutes with Jason. She finally found the prominent clock that had been hung to countdown to midnight and gaped at it. “Oh my God. It’s almost midnight!” She looked back to Tim in time to see him pulling back from whispering something in Jason’s ear.

“Well, I’m going to go call Kon so we can ring in the New Year together in some way.” Tim said tightly. He leaned over and kissed Marinette on the cheek. “Happy New Year, Marinette. I hope it’s a happy one.” He gave Jason a pointed look.

“Happy New Year, Tim. I hope it is for you as well.” She smiled at him. As soon as he left, Jason pulled Marinette back into his embrace. “What was that about?” She asked him.

“What?” He asked innocently.

“The whispering. There isn’t a problem is there? You’re not going to have to run off 2 minutes before midnight?”

Jason chuckled at her. “No. No, that was him warning me to treat you like you deserve.”

“Like I…” she thought about it and gave him a half-hearted smile before muttering. “Not sure if that is a threat to you or me.”

“Threat for me, blessing for you.” Jason answered softly.

“You think too highly of me.” She shook her head with a small smile.

“Doubt it.” He answered back quietly. “And it sounds like I’m going to be held personally accountable if your year isn’t amazing, so I better get on that.”

“Sounds like you’ll have to keep a close eye on me. I can be a handful.” She said quietly, looking up at him from under her lashes.

“Rough job, but amazing work environment.” He answered just as quietly, pulling her even closer.

“And what are the benefits to giving you the job?” She gave him a playful smile.

“You get to see my roguishly handsome face and get Austen and Shakespeare quoted at you daily.” He grinned back.

“What if I prefer Verne or Hugo?” She asked with exaggerated innocence.

“Then I’ll learn.” His eyes turned serious and his voice husky.

Jason slowly moved one of his hands up her back, around her shoulder, and rested it on her neck, stroking her jaw with his thumb.

Marinette parted her lips in surprise and leaned into his hand.

Jason leaned down toward Marinette, stopping a bit short of her lips, giving her the chance to pull back if she wanted to.

Marinette rose up to close the gap, meeting his lips in a soft, tentative, hopeful kiss.

The room erupted into cheers and applause at the clock striking midnight. Balloons dropped from the ceiling all around them, but the only thing Jason or Marinette noticed was each other. The feeling of the other’s lips against theirs. The feel of the other’s hands on their bodies and the feel of their own hands on them. The warmth of each other’s bodies against their own. The deep need that grew the longer they kissed. When they finally broke apart, it was just far enough to catch their breath and stare in each other’s eyes.

“This was a great way to ring in the New Year.” She whispered against his lips.

He nodded absentmindedly, still in a daze from the kiss. “There’s still a few more time zones that need to be rung in,” he said leaning down to capture her lips again in a passionate kiss.

#maribat #jasonette #platonic timinette #New Years Eve #she never said it was his butt

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katsulia · 4 years

Note

Heyyy! Could you do "he offends you" with kuroo, Tsukishima and daichi? Thank uu!

He offends you - part3

featuring : Kuroo, Tsukishima

Atsumu and Kageyama version

a/n : I’m so sorry that I took soooooo long to answer this, but here it is ! Daichi version will come in another part with Oikawa’s one !

Kuroo

The exams were coming up fast and as they approached your stress only increased considerably. The dark circles were even more visible on your face and you could see the tiredness miles away. It was absolutely necessary to ensure good grades for this semester in order to hope to make up for the less honourable grades of the previous semester. The nights were long and at this point you could compete with the Hunchback of Notre-Dame and could easily win because of your slouched position upon your desk.

However, that didn't stop Kuroo from coming to visit you in your room. After more than two years of relationship he had learned to notice everything about you whether it was your way of making noise with your nails on any surface, cutting your fruit always very meticulously or your stubbornness. That's why he knew he had to intervene this weekend after having left you all week to your stubbornness to work in an unhealthy way. So at the end of the afternoon he appeared in your apartment with a bag full of your favorite sweets in his hand. Not surprisingly, he found you in your room, hunched over your desk with a multitude of documents and manuals scattered on it. Standing with his head in the doorway, he couldn't help smiling at your concentrated expression and your rather peculiar posture.

"Hey kitten, how's it going?" he whispered in the middle of your ear after putting the bag on your bed. His arms came around your body even though you didn't seem very responsive to his approaches.

"Hmm ... Tetsu wait, I need to focus on this chapter." You got out of his grip without even looking up from your notebook.

Obviously this was not to the liking of Kuroo who was getting more and more worried about your condition. Beyond the fact that he may have been in need of attention, he considered your stubbornness useless at this stage. The rhythm that you had adapted in the last few days was not at all productive and you deserved to take a break.

"You should take a quick pause chibi-chan" he tried one last time to talk some sense into you. His hand stroking your hair was meant to reassure you, but it only intensified your anxiety and irritation towards him.

"I really need to work on this course and get a good grade." You let out a long sigh at the end of your sentence because this debate with Kuroo was just wasting your time. "You let out a long sigh at the end of your sentence because this debate with Kuroo was just taking up your time.

Kuroo rolled his eyes, you were not even aware that it was counterproductive and you were too narrow-minded for him. "But what you're doing here is useless, you have to stagger your workload, otherwise your brain won't memorize anything and you know it. But once again you prefer to be stubborn when it harms you, that's not the way to get a good grade. »

He was certainly telling the truth and probably didn't mean to be rude, but that didn't stop his words from being a little too raw. Deep down you knew that he only wanted what was good for you, but at that moment you took it as a personal attack, especially since the pressure you were putting on yourself would soon make you explode. Having your boyfriend question your way of working was the last thing you needed. Subconsciously you clenched your fist around the pen you were holding and took a deep breath with your eyes closed to try to calm yourself down. But soon tears began to form and flow down your cheeks. Both on edge and totally vulnerable you didn't want to let Kuroo see you like this.

"Ok, I get it Tetsuro, but I remind you that not all of us are geniuses like you and some of us need to work. Which I'm trying to do, I'm sorry that I don't belong to the same world as you." Your tone was cold and dry which was rare for you. "Your tone was cold and dry which was rare for you. But it's true that the fact that Kuroo was pretty good academically didn't help the situation and you almost felt humiliated like a child being scolded by an adult. You would have liked to be like Kuroo and understand everything at first hand without having to spend hours in your lessons hoping for a decent grade, but this was not the case.

Kuroo, on the other hand, was petrified and didn't expect this at all. It had nothing to do with his abilities? He never thought he had offended you or even looked down on you. It's true that sometimes he liked to tease you about your dubious knowledge in chemistry but it never went any further. He felt extremely bad because he only made you feel worse when his goal was the opposite. But it wasn't a time for laments and regrets right now, you were the one who needed help. He turned your chair and lowered himself to your level to talk to you straight in the eyes.

"Kitten, I'm really sorry you feel that way. First of all, I'm not here to blame you or lecture you, but I know how hard you've worked and how you forgot to take care of yourself, so I wanted you to take a break. I assure you that it will do you good and that you will be ready to go back to work in better conditions. And I know this because I know you are determined and stubborn in the positive ways but sometimes you don't even pay attention to yourself anymore." His thumbs caressed your cheeks and dried your tears, and miraculously the feeling of his fingers on your skin instantly calmed you down. It was hard to look him straight in the eye, but it was clear that his gaze was only holding love for you. « And secondly, I'm not a genius. I'm just a nerd who spends all his time making chemical jokes, please don't ever devalue yourself over that again, okay?" Automatically you let a smile appear on your face, he was right he was a nerd first and foremost. Kuroo then smiled, happy to see you feeling better already. He dared to place a kiss on your forehead and his heart warmed up when he felt your hands clinging to his shirt.

"Come on, now we're watching Emily in Paris, and I've got your favorite snacks. And then I promise I'll help you study." You didn't even have time to say anything that Kuroo was already lifting you up on the way to your bed. And getting under the comforter cuddled to Kuroo was certainly not something you were going to say no to.

Tsukishima

Often after class you would stay in the library for a while and work on while Tsukishima finished training with the volleyball team. But today it wasn't in your plans, at least not since lunch.

You were discussing with Kiyoko and Yaichi about the progress of the semester and the growing complexity of homework. The girls were interested in your grades and how you were managing everything as if it was easy.

"If getting good grades means getting the same results as Kageyama and Hinata, then yes, you can ask Y/N for advice," you almost jolted at the voice of your boyfriend that was just behind you. Kageyama who was standing aside looked at him with daggers in his eyes yet Tsukishima remained totally indifferent. It was the girls who burst out laughing at this scene knowing full well that he was trying to prick the two boys who undoubtedly excelled on a volleyball court but much less when it came to bringing home good grades. Soon you joined them in your turn, as you could not hold your breath in front of a smoking Kageyama.

But even if you laughed at the core you took Tsukishima's remark very badly. You were used to your boyfriend's rather harsh words and knew that most of his coldness was deceptive, although this time you couldn't help being struck by his words. You felt humiliated worse than when you were in public. Did he really see you like that, a little silly around the edges? You liked to think that he didn't, after all he wasn't the kind of person to bother with people who didn't deserve his time. And that's not true, you were far from having castrophic results, and anyway, even that wouldn't change the fact that your intelligence was certainly not defined by your grades. Yet you were just thinking about it because you were rather proud of the results you were getting after the efforts you were making, and Tsukishima more than anyone else knew this because he himself was a witness to the work you were putting in. Until now you had always believed that he was proud of you even though he didn't show it so much because it wasn't in his nature, but right now you strongly doubted it.

That's why you didn't want to go home with him and have to endure any more nasty remarks from him. All the way home you just replayed what he had said and kept repeating his words over and over again. You know you shouldn't give it too much importance, but it was impossible to ignore his cold voice in your head. Your spirits had taken a hit and you just wanted to get into your comforter and move on. But suddenly your cell phone lit up with a new message from Tsukishima.

You went home early?

Your thumbs stayed up above your screen not knowing if you should answer or not. Was he surprised not to see you at the gym doors? Honestly, what did he expect? You hadn't even exchanged a word after lunch.

Yes

Fast and efficient. Even he would have answered like that. The message was simple and didn't say anything special.

Okay. Why?

I wanted to study so I wouldn't have the same grades as Kageyama and Hinata.

The second you sent the message you were already regretting it. Surely he was going to know that you were referring to the lunchtime and he was going to bother you even more with it. You would have been better off ignoring it and finding some other excuse he's never going to let you go with it again.

Read. No answer? Maybe it was better than one of his terrible comebacks that you absolutely didn't need right now. But yet it still affected you a little bit more, he really doesn't care, does he? Didn't he realize that sometimes it was too much and that a relationship shouldn't be like that? All these questions were running through your head while you were lying there in bed staring at the ceiling. You don't know how long you were in that position before a big blonde head barged into your room.

"Kei? What are you doing here? "Your face reflected your surprise and you immediately straightened up to see your boyfriend coming closer and closer to you.

"Your brother let me in and I knocked on the door but you didn't hear me." he stopped a few feet from your bed and stood staring at you. His face seemed neutral and unemotional, which wasn't really surprising.

"Uh ... Yes ... But that still doesn't explain why you're here? "You were stumbling over your words, which conveyed your anxiety and incomprehension about his unexpected presence.

"I spent the end of the day surrounded by idiots like Kageyama and Hinata. And I was hoping after that to go home with my girlfriend to recharge my batteries and finally be with someone who doesn't give me a headache. Except that today I'm the one who hurt her head. "Without even wanting to, your eyes softened and you already wanted to take him in your arms. But your brain was still resisting and thinking about what he had said earlier.

"Yet you thought I was on the same footing as your two teammates. "With your arms folded, you stared at Tsukishima, who couldn't help but sigh at your pout.

"But you know that if you were anything like them I would never hang out with you. I wouldn't want you to be my girlfriend. "You rolled your eyes, there was nothing romantic about it. But when he sat on your bed and intertwined your fingers you already had a slight smile on your face. Seeing that you weren't rejecting him, he moved closer to you and placed his head on your shoulder. "Sorry," he whispered softly. And if that wasn't enough for some of us it was more than enough for you, especially since you already knew that tomorrow he would take you to your favorite bubble tea and that it would last all week.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu writing #haikyuu x you #haikyuu scenarios #kuroo tetsuro imagine #kuroo imagine #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo scenarios #kuroo tetsuro x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x you #tsukishima scenarios #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima kei imagine

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djemsostylist · 3 years

Text

Djem's Legion Thoughts

About three years ago my brother joking suggested I read the Horus Heresy, knowing literally nothing about Warhammer. (Literally nothing. I just thought Space Marines were big dudes in armor and I had never heard of Primarchs and I still know nothing of 40k. Have no idea how the Heresy ends--I'm spoiler free babes.) Anyway, what follows are my feelings on each Legion at the following times:

As of midway through Fulgrim

At the end of First Heretic

At the start of the Master of Mankind

Halfway through the Siege

This is very long. I'm not sorry.

Dark Angels

idk I haven’t met them yet, but their name tells me they are either going to be amazing or fucking awful

Um I still dk

God I fucking love these stupid idiots. Like, they are stupid, for sure, but I dunno, I dig their bizarre sort of pseudosecrecy thing. Plus, aesthetically I’m all about weird monk orders. Also, nothing kills me quite like Farith Redloss having anxiety attacks over trying to figure out Lion.

Corswain showing up like the living embodiment of the dude with the pizza where the apartment is on fire is just so deeply on brand for these chucklefucks like, Lion is all “I’m deeply uncomfortable where Imperial Secundus is concerned so instead I’ll just go ahead and attack home planets because that will demoralize the traitors and then I’m Doing My Part” like fam, pretty much all the traitors sans Perturabo are actual literal demons rn and they all had zero qualms betraying their immediate brothers and also the emperor (and Perturabo already fucked over his own) why in the livid fuck would you think this is in any way helpful, but this is Classic Lion and I love him now on account of that one time when he hugged Roboute because he was proud of him and also because he calls all of his sons “Little Brother” bc he is afraid of being a dad and also because I too am deeply avoidant of issues I don’t want to deal with.

Emperor's Children

mostly wonderful, because they are fabulous and also extremely extra, but they have the most ginourmous fuckwad as a Lord Commander, BUT they have a very good boy as another one, so idk really. Plus the whole betrayal thing and the fucking lodges, but they are purple and fabulous, so, +1?

These are the saddest boys ever in the whole world, and they didn’t deserve what happened to them. I loved them all except for Eidolon and they didn’t deserve anything bad to happen to them ever bc they were precious and I loved them. Also Fabius because he was bugnuts and he hurt my boys.

Jesus, I’m so fucking over them all

Honestly I’m so tired

Iron Warriors

I totally confused them with the Iron Hands. Idk even, boring? But Perturabo (while he has a fucking terrible name) also hates Horus so +15

I still know nothing about them, but I think they are buttholes because of the whole Isstvan V thing. Dick move guys, dick move.

I literally can’t. Like, their entire shtick is besieging and being besieged, and then being pissy bc it is what they are good at???? Like, they are literally traitoring bc their dad got a hair up his ass bc he wasn’t a good independent thinker and didn’t think he was allowed to build castles or whatever? Idk they are exhausting except for the ones that aren’t

I still don’t really get them at all except like 99% of them who aren’t named Barabas Dantioch are asshats and are not independent thinkers who are literally still traitoring for reasons unknown except to stick it to the emperor like?? Get an actual culture??? Just literally stop???

White Scars

I dunno, haven’t met them, but since no one else talks about them, I’m gonna guess, boring?

I dunno but they are worried about them hooking up with the Rout so I guess they are cool?

Oh bless your tiny little souls. They are so sweet, and so, so dumb. But sweet.

They are very, very good boys. They don’t have a ton of range per say but their simplicity is sort of the point I think. They are what space marines are supposed to be, and I love them for that

Space Wolves

ehm, oh, I’m sorry, The Rout. Whateverthefuck, they’re boring, over-the-top fuckheads who are giant fucking hypocrites who suck and probably don’t ever shower. Honestly, they rival the Emperor’s Children in extraness, and not in the loveable way. Fucking awful, 0/10.

Okay, honestly, not as awful as some. I mean, hella extra and I hate what they did at Prospero, but in a world full of awful things, we gotta pick and choose.

They are just so, so...Space Wolfy. Bless them they try, and some of them legit crack me up. I’m just not about their aesthetic, you know?

Much like the other fuckups amongst the Loyalists, they are a blunt instrument used for a specific purpose and do better with like...direct instruction. I’m saying they are not the kind to do well with metaphor and also a lack of like, a dad. They need TE:BBA is what I’m saying.

Imperial Fists

Literally only met them briefly, but they seem a good sort. I like their Primarch? -3 tho cause damn that color scheme.

Still good boys.

Omg I love you all, you precious little bbs. They are just so calm and stoic and honestly even though yellow is a hideous color they are literally like Templars and that is fantastic?????

Listen, the amount of love that I have in my heart for these precious, perfect boys is rivaled only by my love for Rogal Dorn, who might possibly be, and I don’t wanna sound dramatic here, be the love of my life but anyway.

Night Lords

idk but their name sounds sick.

Right, these guys are also dicks. I hate them on principle.

Every time I think of them all I can think of is that one video of the goths dancing under the bridge. They are so. Fucking. Extra. Christ alive, get a hobby that isn’t fucking skinning people.

Yeah idk they still mostly suck and to be perfectly honest I’m still not entirely sure what their point was, even pre-heresy? Like what role did psychopaths play in TE:BBA’s plan for a glorious human empire, someone explain

Blood Angels

I dunno cause I’ve only ever met their First Captain (who was consorting with fuckheads) but Sanguinius is literally Top Tier Fabulous, like Prince Extra, so I hope they don’t let me down

I’m still holding out hope. Don’t let me down boys.

OH. MY. GOD. Honestly, kill me, I love them so, so, so, so, so much, it’s a lot. And I suspect something terrible will happen with them but I don’t care because they are perfect. All of them. Wonderful, perfect, lovely, caring boys who love their dad and I love them. Sweet, loving, precious little bbs who occasionally suffer from tragic vampiric tendencies but I don’t love them any less. They better stay perfect forever. If I could, I would be like Sangy and just take them all everywhere with me so that they could always be safe <3 On a less gushy note, I think one of the most important aspects of the Blood Angels (and of their primarch) is that while they acknowledge their differences from unmodified humans, they also love humanity, deeply. They see them as worth fighting for and protecting, and acknowledge that their abilities allow them to create a universe that is safe for the common man to live in. There is a sort of profound love and tenderness that they have for humanity, and I think it really does make a difference in their legion. (That scene is Master of Mankind with the Blood Angel and the Custodian really highlights what I’m saying here.)

Listen, this may sound dramatic, and I don’t wanna like, go over the top, but I would literally die for them, which would seem counterproductive since that is what they do for humanity but the amount of love of I have for this entire legion and one Angel is too big to contain in my heart okay

Iron Hands

I don’t know them well yet, but they seem like good boys overall. I’m sure one of them is bound to be a crazy fucker tho.

They are good boys. I don’t know them very well, but my favorite moment is when Ferrus had to thank Lorgar for his help so he made him a crozius and then threw it at him because he didn’t want to have to talk awkwardly.

Poor sad bbs

No, but really, poor sad bbs

World Eaters

literally terrible people, but I guess when your Dad is bugnuts….

Definitely should have been put down. As in to death. They should have been killed. Probably.

Still fucking crazy. But I love Kharn, and honestly Lotara (who I know isn’t technically a World Eater but close enough.)

No but they probably should have all been just euthanized? I mean not Kharn bc I love him but also like--they are not viable. Long term? Tbh still not entirely sure what TE:BBA’s plan was here with them and Angron (I’m gonna assume something along the lines of ignore it and hope it goes away, since that is mostly his plan for everything)

Ultramarines

probably enormous squares, but tbh in a galaxy with World Eaters and the Rout, we could do with some squares.

Honestly, I have no issues with them. They do their duty, they are loyal. I hope to love them though. They actually believe in colors.

HOLY FUCK DO I LOVE THEM. ALL 200,000 OF THEM. (Which is probably what Roboute thinks tbh.) Like, I literally haven’t met a single one that I don’t adore and love with my whole soul and entire being. They are precious, soft, beautiful bbs who I adore with my whole heart. And who will make great leaders of the world someday I’m so proud. On a less gushy note, much like the Blood Angels, the Ultramarines really have a sort of profound feeling of protection and duty towards humans. They may not always like dealing with them, but Roboute is of the firm belief that they must understand what they are truly fighting for. Saving humanity is not enough, you have to fight for the humans who live there. (See, the one short story where they find a baby and I died.)

No but what you don’t quite get is that I literally love them. Every single individual solitary one of them, and while some may say “But Djem such a thing is impossible you haven’t met every Ultramarine” I need you to understand that the depth of my love for them and their Primarch is such that I know, in my bones, that I don’t need to meet them all to love them okay bc I already do.

Death Guard

Okay, so honestly I wanted to hate them (because BETRAYAL) but tbh its only the First and Second Captains who suck a lot and idk really the rest are sort of tragically precious??

Seriously, what is Mortarion’s issue?

No, seriously, what the fuck is their problem? Get the fuck over it.

Okay, I do feel bad. For Mortarian. Of all the traitors, him I understand the most. However, that being said, while I can understand his issues, I feel like giving yourself over to demons, turning into actual demons, and also turning on and killing your brothers who refused to become said demons makes you terrible awful people who really need to like, die.

Thousand Sons

okay, I fucking love these lame Warrior Monk Priest Wizards who live in a literal glass city with restaurants and teach random people Tai Chi in the park or whatever. Overall 10/10

I am v. worried that they are going to do something dumb like join the rebellion in order to affect change from the inside and then like, adopt demons or something. Pls don’t be dumb boys.

I don’t even fucking--look, I’m just tired okay?

What the fuck Azhek. No seriously, ⅞ is good enough? What the fuck is wrong with you?

Sons of Horus? Luna Wolves? who the fuck knows

my precious sons. You did not deserve what was done to you. This is why we don’t do frats. I believed in you and you failed me. D:

I love my precious sons. The Sons of Horus however, can go die.

I just--why are you the way you are?

I think the best thing about these absolute morons is that half the legion isn’t even demon fuckers, they just woke up one day and Horus told them to kill their brothers and they went “sure okay” and then just did. They are so fucking pretentious and stupid, fucking speartip, honestly die. I take it back. You all deserved exactly what you got, you dumb fucks.

Word Bearers

look, I haven’t met the rest of these dudes yet, but Erebus is a terrible fucking ambassador. -60/10 for not controlling their boy

HOLY LORD. I cannot--there are not actually words to describe how much I loathe these ignorant dumbasses. Like, seriously. Honestly, the ones who were purged were probably lucky, because the rest of them fucking suck.

God, eat a fucking landmine. Except, that would probably turn them on or something. Fucking assholes.

Just--imagine being such a fuckup that even when you were the first to the “become a demon, save the world” thing you still somehow ended up last. I hope the Ultramarines put down every. Single. One.

Salamanders

idk but this name is dumb. Salamanders are cute and slimy, and while Astartes are fucking adorable, they are not slimy. -1 for the dumb name

They are loyal, which is cool, and they seem like chill bros.

I just, like, they are sweet, but good lord are they simple.

I’m not sure? What they are doing? With their lives? Guys, idk if anyone told you but like, um. There is a war. And I get they’ve had it rough but also the loyalists could use their hope so maybe, idk. Do something? I mean I know there are like, 50 of you left and also you think your dad is dad and I feel you but like-

Raven Guard

idk but I like Ravens and Black, plus their Primarch’s name is Corvus? 11/10 they better not suck.

OMG I love Corvus?? Flies with a giant jetpack and tried to gut Lorgar? Yeah, he’s wonderful. Plus, their Captain seemed cool before he was fucking murdered.

I love them all, bless. They are sweet and simple and kind of stupid, but they make me feel things in my heart, so like, idk, stay precious.

Look, I cried over Branne fucking Nev, I don’t wanna talk about it rn

Alpha Legion

seriously? Lame.

Fuck these guys. What is their deal?

I can’t even really. I really, truly can’t. Nothing has ever satisfied me the way I was satisfied when Alpharius literally lost his head. God, that was beautiful.

Or Omegon? It was actually Omegon? I don’t even know anymore man

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sugar-petals · 4 years

Note

Can you tell us how to please a soft sub and hard sub? Like what could a guy enjoy?

it’s 95% individual, i’d ask + negotiate before ideas for play. i can suggest scenes but still, it might not be his limits. to remember is what differenciates the two: hard subs enjoy pain + power, soft subs don’t.

you can likely please the latter if you’re a gentle femdom aficionado. still depends on what kind of GFD you like, but you can grow into the role you agree on, shift. it’s a bit easier: fewer prerequisites. ofc there’s etiquette + talent, but you can please by tuning into the role pretty well.

the former: not as flexible. there are set qualities. understand this as a ‘needed with good reason’ profile rather than gatekeeping. sadism is the requirement. no 50-50 zone, you feeling that you are a natural is key. your sub won’t be happy if you merely try it. it’s usually clear to a domme anyways, you either lick your fingers for s/m or not.

↳ as for specific kinks. what i can give you is a list of things to AVOID for each.💡it’s a roundabout way to see what he prefers and each sub’s a different case but it’s a compass.

✏︎ soft subs — don’ts

hair-pulling -> choose fondles and pats instead wherever he likes it the most.

name-calling -> praise is usually preferred

yelling -> whispering/soft-spoken, this is an asmr zone ☁️

hard spanking -> lighter squeezes

no squishy props -> use pillows, blankets, plushies if he wants. but, in any case, you’ll need pillows. can’t have enough of those.

tears -> only as a spontaneous release [during aftercare], most soft subs aren’t into dacryphilia

chaos -> soft subs love consistency.

too much genitalia focus -> don’t forget the smooches and forehead kisses, and massages possibly. if he likes that, tend to seemingly neglegible body parts even, like ears and toes. boop the nose.

toy overwhelm -> back to basics, never forget he loves your hands. idea: choose pastels for color if you do get toys. dramatic black/red/metal is for the hardcore femdom department and suits the mood better. you likely have that preference already if you strictly soft dom.

breath play -> stick to neck kisses. mouth gags, same thing, he probably isn’t comfortable with it.

leaving marks -> 50-50, again, ask what kind you can and cannot leave. if he likes it, do 20% marks, 80% affection.

pragmatic, planned aftercare -> make it extensive + adapt easily. seems counterintuitive since hard subs take a lot more, but let me tell you soft subs think aftercare is literal catnip. if you’re a big brain domme, you transfer some aftercare favorites to the main act. also, about pragmatism: unlike with hard subs (see list below: #21), come up with a more fine-tuned safeword/limit system. these are play scenes where you can go into many different directions so that’s why.

straightforward -> it’s no problem if you’re the indirect or shy type as a domme, it’s about careful questions toward him here. many soft subs approach their dommes well with wishes. ironically, hard subs are the other way around, they might anticipate more unless they’re very extroverted. the biggest hard subs were the quiet kiddos at school 😉 soft subs can be bubbly and reveal their demands rather easily.

deprioritize your orgasm -> make him tend to you in a lazy, slow demeanour. spoil each other.

all over the place -> stick to bedroom bed, bathtub and couch unless otherwise requested. the point is to have a safe and comfortable spot.

breaking him -> never push, always guide. again, consistency, no highs and lows.

suppressing critique -> he wants to know where to improve, show him exactly how to do things the right way and work with mistakes. not humiliating, more like teaching.

dungeon -> keep it above ground.

hands-on ownership -> show him he belongs to you in other ways. spoil him, that’s the best way.

high heels -> too impractical for 80% of GFD activities. fetish gear generally doesn’t work here. just mentioning, it’s probably already clear to everyone. and, purely soft dommes don’t gravitate towards dominatrix fashion in the first place.

passive -> unlike with hard subs, you likely do a lot of the work. soft dommes are busier than people expect.

atmosphere? -> switch on the fairy lights, candles, make it dim. make it as romantic as possible.

power imbalance -> air to breathe for any hard sub, but soft subs prefer flatter hierarchies. mind you, your position is still one of guidance.

✏︎ hard subs — don’ts

tender voice > grit and growl in their ear aye

questions > proportion-wise, give more commands instead.

no tools -> introduce some devices according to your couple taste.

lenience -> tame that provocateur 😄 you define where his place is. show him, physically. under your foot, kneeling, bowing? find that perfect position for the two of you.

only caressing > choke and slap him, but ask/announce right beforehand.

unbridled aggression -> misguided way of dominance unless it’s primal play. i know it’s more negatively connotated but deliberate brutality is the word, you exact it while keeping rather cool. unless... he fancies you as the angry mistress, or passionate, punishing. but then again, no aggression. just brutality. the difference is huge. the more sadistic the play, the more contained your action. not all understated, just very directed and according to how you spoke about it, and according to the feedback in front of you. you get perfect awareness, not dizzy tunnel vision and fluctuating feelings. i say brutality because it indicates a person knows what they’re doing. aggression and anger means you bottle your judgement. the brain switches off there, it gets too erratic. also, aggression is less severe and a means to an end while brutality is for its own sake and goes heavy which is what hard subs enjoy: since they’re masochists. aggressive and violent dommes are just assholes, brutal hard dommes... are good dommes. 😛

free reign clothes -> tell him what type of outfit makes him domme candy. experiment plenty. don’t worry, most hard subs enjoy being told what to wear. and even if they don’t, suggesting it won’t piss them off. also, you can get strict and exacting as fuck with this. hard subs want your possessiveness in creative ways.

plain undressed -> chances are CFNM could be a hot idea sometimes, or fetish wear which is often appreciated in all things hardcore. then again, dressing up is no must, but definitely try all-black outfits, suits etc, whatever makes you radiate authority and the upper hand. remember, hierarchy. your superiority is what he enjoys during sex, he actually gets confused if you don’t show it in your particular way. if it’s not clothes, it’s the voice, anyway. the voice lives in his head rent free.

no control -> full body attention, grope him the way he likes. also, the nape of his neck is where your hand belongs. guiding his head is just...mmh ❤️

monotony -> hard subs like a rollercoaster. roleplay = perfect opportunity.

static plans -> important: hard subs learn fast. since pain-pleasure is involved their sensations are more intense so feedback is usually unequivocal. mind you, soft subs can sort their preferences well but for them it takes exposure to variety.

what’s a nipple? -> pinching and more is most likely welcome. ask and test.

spoiling -> spoiling no. rewards, yes. he works for it. what does he work towards? pleasing you completely. in your body and commands.

shy domme -> when it comes down to it, you need to be resolute and eloquent. if you struggle with it, e.g. start with being stoic. pick your favorite pokerface and have a signature smirk lmao! and definitely do in-depth talks. yes, about his desires. unlike soft subs, some guys take more time to open up here.

dry -> lube. keep it wet, especially his tear ducts anyway.

unsure experiments/not knowing the outcome -> seriously tackle and prepare skills. yes, whip your pillow first. you can ‘try’ things with soft subs, but you ‘do’ things with hard subs. why? less room for errors. you please him by being precise. don’t let it intimidate you, simply take it as a responsibility he respects you greatly for.

heels -> hard subs might like that. plus, you’ll often simply stand. he does lots of the work. hard dommes can be more laid-back than you’d expect. remember, you kick his ass and give orders. he’s a pretty active party. exception: he’s tied up.

hesitation -> hard dommes have to be quick. especially since we edge a lot. also, never hesitate to praise.

forgetting skin -> stimulate large areas as much as you can.

unarmed -> chances are he likes knife play, ask about it.

too much caution and pampering -> an insult to his esteem. i’m not kidding. he feels in his element when you don’t hold back anxiously. trust his strength 😊 it’s a perk of femdom in the first place, you may be working on more muscles and often more space on the body, most maledoms don’t have that luxury. the same goes for safewording, keep it simple and applicable for the heat/reflex of the moment. it’s counterproductive to be overcautious since it makes it too complex.

the usual spot -> if he’s down: play everywhere, consider every room together. a cold and hard surface does something for a hard sub. as does rug burn if he likes that. make him do all kinds of things 100% naked on a carpet while you watch, it’s so humiliating. i did it, the result was my sub discovering even higher levels of sluttiness.

suppression -> ask him to let it out vocally when he’s shy or not experienced. you’ll both love what follows. most hard subs are screamers. i hope you don’t have neighbors.

soft illumination -> use artificial light. not just to make your patient - doctor roleplay perfect, but because a hard domme needs to see what she’s doing for safety reasons already. use your (soy wax!) candles to ruin his back instead.

serious -> hardcore femdom is at its best when it’s peppered with little giggles. bring a feather just in case.

PS: these can even apply if they enjoy doing both, you have to match your tone according to the mood and plan then.

#anon #ask #cub mail 🐆#d/s talk #long post #d/s ed #d/s etiquette

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Heart-Shaped Box 💟 6

Warnings: noncon/dubcon sex, obsession, possessive, breeding, sex pollen, spanking, oral, menstruation.

This is dark!Bucky and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: You accept a job as an au pair, but not all is as it seems.

Note: Okay so probably the last chapter until the weekend. I gotta work, I gotta go do social shit I’m not into atm, I gotta live my stupid life. Anyway, hope you all enjoy this chapter. You make me so excited to write and all your encouragement and awesome comments and memes make it even better. Know that I am forever thankful for all of you and the energy you put into this series is just as important as mine! Love you all. <3

Leave some feedback, like and reblog if you can <3

You weren’t allowed upstairs again, though you were no longer bound. You were brought your meals as usual and your pills. It didn’t stop. The undeniable longing. It remained even when he was touching you. When you were lost in your lust; writhing and pleading for more. And when he finished, he left you worn across the mattress as you lingered in a haze of desire and shame to sink into a fitful sleep.

Each day was the same as the last. A perfect predictor of the next. Even in your dreams, his hands were on you. It all blended together. You were slowly drifting away. Far from content, you were compliant. If it kept him from tying you up, from leaving you helpless to the unscratchable itch, you did it. Lied to your own mother, debased yourself for a sliver of relief, surrendered to him entirely.

You lost count of the days. You didn’t care. It didn’t matter. There was no way out. Besides, you were just as guilty as him. You let him use you. You didn’t fight, not hard enough. It was easy to smother your pleas with a single touch. To subdue your body with his. Maybe, you wanted this too.

You groaned as you rolled over. Your stomach hurt. Cramps. And your back was wracked from sleeping heavily on your shoulder. You opened your eyes and gasped at the figure standing over you. James watched you passively as you woke. You were still naked. Had been for a while. He hadn’t brought you any clothes.

He tore the sheet from around you as you sat up. His eyes narrowed and he sighed as he stared between your legs. You looked down. You were bleeding. Had it really been a month? You gulped and glanced up at him. He shook his head and turned away.

“Breakfast,” He pointed to the table as he strode past it. “I’ll get you something to wear.”

You watched him go and slowly got off the bed. You pulled the sheets from across the mattress and bundled them up. He returned as you left them at the corner of the bed. He handed you a pair of panties and a plain black dress. He didn’t look at you.

You took the clothes and went to the bathroom. You cleaned yourself up, searched out a pad, and dressed. He was at the table when you entered and you sat across from him silently. His fork scraped the plate as he shoveled back the omelet.

“I…” You stopped yourself before you could begin. Were you really going to apologize to him? You should be relieved. You didn’t want a baby; his baby. And yet, his disappointment worried you. His could barely conceal anger.

“We’ll try again,” He grumbled. “Eat.”

You picked up your fork and used the edge of it to cut out a bite of egg. You stared at the table.

“You still have to take your pills,” He said. “Don’t worry, I’m not afraid of a little blood.” You blanched as you looked up at him and nearly choked on your eggs. “I’ve read it helps with the cramps. Maybe the mood swings too.”

You rolled your eyes at him but stayed quiet. You ate in silence.

“I’ll have to up your dose though,” He said. “And you need to eat consistently. It’s wasteful and counterproductive.”

You let out a long breath and scowled. He was really annoying you. You didn’t want to think about this right now. Your uterus was slaking off quite painfully.

“You get a day.” He declared as he cleared his plate. “Now finish your breakfast.”

“Yes, sir,” You muttered.

💟

You had one day. One day to lay in bed and try to ignore the cramps. You got your meals on time but James didn’t linger. For that, you were thankful. You couldn’t tolerate both your body and him at once. You slept heavily despite the pills and when you awoke, you were almost refreshed. Until you heard it.

The subtle metallic whine of the faucet and the spray of water as it pattered onto the porcelain. You sat up as James emerged from the bathroom. He wore only a pair of grey sweats and his biceps bulged as he crossed his arms. His jaw ticked as he stared down at you.

“Come on. Time to get cleaned up.” He said.

You blinked at him dumbly and didn’t move. He sighed and moved closer.

“I’m not going to tell you again.” He warned. “So hurry up. You’ve got a long day ahead of you.”

You frowned and stood. You stepped past him and he turned as he watched you. You yelped as his hand met your ass. He slapped you so hard you had to catch yourself on the door frame. He was close behind as you entered the bathroom, steam coiling from behind the shower curtain.

“Get in,” He yanked the hem of your night shirt.

You pulled the cotton over your head and let it fall to the floor. You heard another rustle behind you and glanced back as his sweatpants gathered around his ankles. He tilted his head at you and nodded to the shower. You slowly slipped out of your underwear, careful to fold the fabric over the pad.

You stepped into the shower as James followed. You reached for the loufa and he caught your hand. “No sense cleaning up just yet,” He pressed himself against your back and you felt his arousal.

You dropped your arm and lowered your head. His hands ran down your arms and you shivered. His fingers crawled along your lower back and he gripped your hips. He pulled you back a step and kicked your feet apart. The water flowed down your face and you closed your eyes.

He guided his cock along your ass and prodded at your entrance. You arched your back and reached out to catch yourself against the tiled wall. He pushed inside you smoothly. You hissed at the ripple it sent along your spine.

“See how easy it is to be good,” He growled as his metal fingers hooked around your shoulder, his other hand still firmly on your hip. “That’s all you have to do is behave.”

He jerked sharply with the last word and you held your breath. His pelvis slapped against your ass loudly as your wet palms slipped down the tile. He bent you lower as he drilled into you harder and harder.

“But if you’re bad…” He snarled. “You can stay down here for good.”

You pushed your head back as you bit your lip. You hummed as the current flowed through you. As he plucked at your core so expertly. Your arms shook and your voice grew louder and louder. You moaned as his hand slid around your throat and he pulled you back against him. He had you on tiptoes as he rutted into you.

“Tell me you’ll be good,” He rasped. “Make me believe it.”

“I’ll be good.” You gulped out as the water rained down your face and chest. “I’ll--be--goooood.”

You clawed at his wrist as you came. Your entire body spasmed as you murmured. You leaned your head back against him as he slammed into you. His heavy breaths mixed with the steam and encased you in flames. He turned suddenly and pushed you against the tile, your chest crushed against the cool wall.

He grunted as he plunged into you. He twitched as his entire body rumbled and he swore loudly. He leaned on you as he came and his hand slowly fell from your throat. He shuddered as he pulled out of you and cum and blood gushed between your legs.

You didn’t move from against the wall immediately, not until you felt the scratchy loufa against your arm. You looked over as James offered you the sponge. You pushed yourself from the tile and took it wordlessly. He pinched your ass as you turned to face the shower head.

“Mmm mmm,” He hummed. “I am starving. I think I’d like some bacon for breakfast.”

💟

Make breakfast; check. Wash the dishes; check. Wipe the table; check.

Your roster of tasks was simple enough. You went about each under James’ supervision. He loomed in your peripheral as he watched you. His blue eyes were intent, wary. This was a test. He was waiting for you to slip. Just once and you’d be back in the basement.

Next on your list; laundry. Easy enough to figure out the machines. He showed you where the soap was and the softener. His gaze felt heavier as you bent to load the clothes into the machine. His hand grazed the bottom of your ass, your panties barely hidden by the short skirt he’d selected for you. He was quick to retreat as you closed the washer and grabbed your list once more.

“Um,” You reread the next bullet point. ‘Dust the office’.

“Well,” He intoned. “What are you waiting for?”

You shrugged and went back into the hallway. You found the duster with the mop and broom in the kitchen closet. He let you guide him to his office though you paused before it. You remembered that day he’d caught you in there. You hadn’t been nosy enough, you mourned.

“Go on,” He reached around you and turned the handle.

He nudged the door open and waited for you to enter. You slowly crossed the threshold and glanced around the office.

“Top of the shelves get dusty,” He said as he passed you and sat behind his desk lazily. “Shouldn’t take too much, though.”

You started with the bookshelf and lingered on the aged photo. It was him and Steve, long ago. A war-era jeep in the background and several other nameless soldiers. You replaced it and continued on. The top shelf gave you pause; What to Expect When You’re Expecting, Pregnancy and You, How to Track your Cycle, The Science of Fertility…

You turned away and went to the mantle of the artificial fireplace. You dusted as you ignored James. When at last you went to dust his desk, you couldn’t avoid his gaze. You peeked up at him and he seemed all too amused by you. He sat forward in his chair.

“You’re doing well but… you’re awful quiet. I need you to answer me when I speak to you.” He said. “You know the rules.”

“Yes, sir.” You replied as you ran the feather over the luger.

“That’s what I like to hear,” He smiled. “When we have guests, you may call me James, or Bucky if you’d prefer it.”

“Guests?” You lowered the duster and shook your head.

“Not to worry, that won’t be for some time,” He sat back and the chair groaned. “You should focus on yourself.” His eyes drifted to your stomach. “On your duties.”

You swallowed and went back to dusting his desk. You were quiet again and he cleared his throat.

“Yes, sir,” You forced you as you neared him. “I understand.”

“You must,” He caught your hand as you brushed over the side of the desk. “It can take some time but there are… means of assistance.”

“And…” Your heart began to race. “If I can’t?”

He smirked. An unsettling smirk. “Let’s hope that’s not the case.” He let go of you and pointed to the corner of the desk. “You missed a spot.”

💟

Several days passed. Ticked off like tasks on your list. After the first day, James left you to work on your own. He’d check in momentarily but didn’t hover as he had. The front door was locked and the latch did not turn. You tried several times but found it as impenetrable as that below.

And so, you went about your routine. Tedious and dull. As you got to the upper floor, you felt drained. You were tired of it. The same shit every day. Cleaning what was already immaculate. Tiptoeing around your keeper. You yawned as you entered the children’s room. A grim omen of his plans.

You sat on the lower bunk and held your chin in your hands. You had finally stopped bleeding. Your hips weren’t so sore and you felt somewhat normal. Normal? Is that what this was? You rubbed your forehead as you thought. You could feel the walls coming down. He was slowly chipping away at you; slowly taking what was left of you.

You looked up and saw the ballerina on her single leg, the dinosaur and his stumpy arms, exactly as you’d left them. You were so stupid. You huffed as you stood and knocked the toys over. The dancer fell and her foot snapped off as the dinosaur bounced under the bed. You kicked the ballerina again and grunted in frustration.

What were you doing here? Day after day of this domestic bullshit. You were going crazy. Crazy enough that you contented yourself with your hours spent above dusting and vacuuming like it was some prize. Crazy enough that you obeyed James without argument. Crazy enough that you let him use you over and over.

You stomped over to the shelf of teddy bears and swept them onto the floor. You tore the drawers out of the dresser and emptied them onto the fluffy rainbow rug. You dropped them one by one and jumped on them until they broke. You stripped the beds and threw the sheets onto the pile of wood. You ripped the heads off the plush animals and added to your collage of destruction. You stood out of breath and stormed over to the window and tore down the curtains.

“What are you doing?” The voice made your blood freeze. You asked yourself the same as you slowly turned around. James sighed as you stared back at him. “You know what this means.”

“I-- I’m sorry,” You gulped as you kept to the other side of the heap. “I was just--- James…”

“Get over here now,” He sneered. “If I have to drag you, it’ll be worse.”

“I’ll clean it up,” You pleaded.

“Oh, you will. But first, you will get over here.” He pointed just beside the bunk bed. “Now.’

“Yes, sir.” You whispered.

You clasped your hands together and hung your head as you stepped around your mess. He grabbed your arm as you neared and pulled you close. His hot breath singed you as he hissed in your ear.

“Bend over. Hands on the bed.”

You slowly bent and placed your hands on the bed frame. He was quick to tug your skirt up past your ass and your panties down. He tutted as he groped your ass and slid his fingers between your legs. He drew away, a thick silence strangled the breath from you.

“You’ve been a bad girl.” He said. “Not only have you made a mess but you’ve lied to me.”

“I didn’t--” Your voice cracked as he brought his hand down across your ass.

“You didn’t tell me you were done bleeding.” His metal palm left your skin hot as he pulled away once more.

“I… I’m sorry, sir.” You croaked. “I… I’m just… I don’t know.”

“Shhh,” He hushed you as he struck your ass again. “The only thing I want you to do is count.” He spanked you again your legs trembled. “That’s three.”

He brought his hand down again and you squeaked out a ‘four’. Each number came with more effort, more pain, and he didn’t stop until you were speechless and sobbing. He slipped his fingers under your collar and pulled you up.

“Knees,” He ordered you. You fell to the floor weakly. “Go on.”

He glanced down and you followed his gaze. The bulge in his jeans betrayed his excitement. To your shame, you felt your own slick along your cunt. Your hands shook as you reached out and unbuckled his belt. He watched your fingers as you nervously undid his fly. Your ass brushed against your heels as you knelt before him and you flinched.

You shoved his pants down, then his briefs, and he sprung out. You gripped him firmly and ran your hand along his cock. He stopped you, his metal fingers firm on yours.

“Mouth only.” He warned. “Make it good or I’m strapping you to the bed.”

He let go and you dropped your hand. You shuddered as you raised yourself on your knees. You hovered your lips before his cock and he poked you with it. You opened your mouth and took him slowly. Impatient, he jerked his hips and you gagged as he hit the back of your throat. You swallowed and forced yourself to take all of him. So deep you couldn’t breathe.

You slid back and then forward again. You spread your spit along his length and pressed your tongue to his shaft. He groaned and his hands rested on the sides of your head. You grabbed the front of his pants as you began to rock against him. You built a rhythm as your gulping created a sickening beat.

He buried himself entirely and held you there as your head began to pulse. You struggled for air and you feared passing out. He glided out, only long enough for you to inhale before he slammed in again. You did your best to keep time with him, to try to measure your breaths, as you clung to his thick thighs.

He stopped again and pulled out entirely. He shoved you so you fell back on your ass and you coughed and wiped the spit from around your mouth.

“Up,” He snapped as he stroked himself. “Now.”

You stood and he grabbed your shoulder with his other hand. He spun you around and pushed you towards the bed again. You ducked your head and barely missed the top bunk as he bent you over. His wet cock slid into you and he sighed. He thrust once and spasmed. He leaned against you heavily and grunted. His cum added to the gush of your arousal.

He shoved you off of him and you fell onto the bunk, your legs hanging over the edge. You heard the quiet snap of elastic, the glide of his zipper, and the clink of his buckle. You slowly turned over and reached down to touch the puddle flowing out between your legs.

“Great,” He shook his head. “You’ve gone and messed the bed too.”

You bowed your head. “Sorry, sir.”

“Sorry to me?” He put his hands on his hips as he turned to the room. “You’re the one who’s gotta clean all this up.”

#Bucky Barnes #heart-shaped box #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #fic #series #dark!fic #dark fic #mcu #marvel #au #captain america

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captainillogical · 4 years

Text

Distant Lands Ch.15

Stranded on a planet with toxic conditions and nothing but the clothes on your back, your only means of survival lies within the gem that got you here in the first place.

Spinel/Reader

collab with my lovely wife @firstofficertightpants

You’re floating.

Well, it seems like floating, for the most part, because you can’t really feel anything.

It's dark, and you can't see anything around you. You feel like you're drifting in your weightlessness, slowly, the warm, inky darkness all around is actually kind of calming.

You hear something.

It's a voice. Feminine, and familiar - you don't recognize it immediately. It's calling out to you, you think. You aren't really sure. You aren't really able to focus on it.

Suddenly, there's light all around you and you're standing in a field you've never seen before. There's a single tree on a small hill about twenty feet in front of you, and you're surrounded by tall grass.

Everything is.. pink. Huh. You're very confused.

"Wake up." You hear a voice say from behind you, distinct and clear as day.

You turn around, but there's nothing there. Just an endless field.

"Huh." You hear yourself saying out loud.

You turn back around to the tree, and there's something large in front of you. You nearly scream from being startled, but manage to only make a tiny noise of surprise - muffling your mouth with your hand.

A gentle, knowing chuckle erupts from the vaguely outlined pink figure in front of you.

"I didn't mean to startle you, I was only trying to get your attention." She says. You think you've heard this voice.. once or twice? You can't pinpoint it.

"Where am I?" You reply, feeling no threat from her.

"That isn't important."

"Why am I here? How am I here?" You ask, because these fields are endless, and you're having a hard time remembering what you were doing before this.

"You're here because someone desperately wanted you alive." The figure does not move.

"What does that mean?" You inquire, confused. “Am I dead?”

"It means you need to wake up. You have been here a while." The voice replies, a curious sway to it. It's so familiar, and yet you cannot grasp it.

"How do I wake up if I don't even know I'm asleep?" You look up to the head of the figure, outline blurry to your eyes.

"Like this, I think?" She giggles softly, tone almost.. motherly.

"Like what?" You hear yourself say, and when you blink your eyes she's suddenly gone.

There's no one in the field around you.

There's just miles and miles of long, swaying grass as far as the eye can see.

You feel a pull in your stomach.

You wake up and open your eyes - immediately seeing there are several pairs of eyes peering down at you, gasps filling the room.

“You’re awake!” Steven shouts, tears in his eyes. “I was so terrified you weren’t going to wake up.”

You feel bile rising in your throat. You need to vomit.

You get up from your position on the couch, and you can see that you’re back in Steven’s living room. You shrug off Garnet’s hand on your arm, and ignore the protesting voices in the room to run to the bathroom, slamming the door behind yourself and locking it.

Running to the sink, you hurl mostly saliva into the basin for a solid minute or two as you leave the water in the sink running. Your head is blank, as you’re mainly trying to get your insides to stop convulsing. You watch the water pour down the drain. Your hands are shaking. You cup some of the cold water in your hands and splash it on your face - it helps, a little. You grab the towel hung up on the rack beside you to dry your face, and when you open your eyes, the reflection staring back at you in the medicine cabinet makes your stomach drop.

You.. you’re pink.

Your face, your hair, your skin - all of it, is pink.

The scream that comes out of you is pretty embarrassing, you won’t lie. There’s frantic knocking on the bathroom door.

“Y/N, are you okay!?” Steven yells out from beyond the thin door, and you can hear him rattle and shake the doorknob. Thank fuck you locked it.

“DO I LOOK OKAY?!” You scream back, frozen in place as you stare at your reflection.

“...can I come in?” You hear him reply in a rushed, worried tone.

“God no, I need some time.” You can’t stop looking at the mirror. It’s so strange. There’s a fairly large scar running from your forehead to down the side of your face near your hairline that you don’t remember having?

“I’ll be out here when you’re ready then, okay? We’re all here.”

“Huuuuuuuuurgh.” Is all you can reply, rubbing at your eyes and blinking, but your reflection doesn’t change. You’re not dreaming. You hear his footsteps walking away, and you turn the faucet off while you gather your thoughts.

You died. Somehow.

You’re having a hard time remembering how you died. It’s kind of too much to think about right now, if you’re honest with yourself. You’ll unpack that later.

You feel like there is something wrong with your brain. Everything’s a bit fuzzy. The reflection that stares back at you looks rather filthy, honestly, so you go over to the shower to turn the water on. Might as well keep your hands busy.

You start to pull your shirt off when you realize you don’t have a change of clothes. What you’re wearing is torn to shreds and so dirty, but you don’t know why. What were you doing before?

Regardless, you walk back over to the door to unlock it, and open it just a crack.

“Steven, could you give me a change of clothes?” You half yell out into the other room, and close the door gently again in wait. You lean against the door and space out as you watch the bathroom fill with steam from the shower, the sound of running water the only thing your brain can focus on.

A minute or two later, there’s a knock on the door. You move from your leaning position to open the door a few inches, seeing Steven’s face there.

“Here.” He holds out a fresh pair of pants and a t-shirt that are nicely folded for you. Must’ve been Pearl. His eyes roam your face in concern, eyebrows furrowing. “Take your time. We can talk after this when you’re ready.”

“Thanks.” You reply, albeit a bit blankly. You feel like you’re a bit in a dissociative state that you’re unable to explain. You take the pile of clothes from his open palm.

“Do you want your cell phone?” He asks, pulling it out of his pocket to offer you. You nod, and take it from him.

“Appreciate it.” You say, and he watches your face for a brief second, eyes flickering between yours. And then he closes the door softly with a click.

You lock it.

You walk over to the sink, leaving your phone on the counter without a second thought. You place your clean clothes on the toilet lid, and take your clothes off, starting with your pants. They’re utterly filthy and torn in a few places, what the hell? You toss them over by the garbage can near the toilet. No point in keeping those.

You take off your shirt, and notice something weird.

There’s a.. scar on your stomach. It’s fairly large, but it’s healed. You don’t remember getting this at all. You’re so fucking confused right now.

You refuse to put any more thought into it, as it would be counterproductive anyway. You take the rest of your underwear off, and toss everything into a pile by the garbage can. None of it is salvageable. What the fuck were you doing?

You pull the shower curtain back, letting a cloud of steam wash over you. You get in one foot at a time, the bottom of this tub is missing the grip mat for some reason and you’d prefer not to fall on your ass. Once you’re underneath the stream, your shoulders sag in relaxation as the hot water runs down your body. You feel like you haven’t taken a shower in ages.

You grab the shampoo, scrubbing your hair down and rinsing that out. You pour way too much conditioner into your hand and figure fuck it, and slather your hair in that. You stand there for a moment, watching suds wash down the drain in a swirl.

You space out for a while. You’re not sure how long.

You take your time rinsing your hair of the conditioner. You notice dirt underneath your fingernails, when you normally keep them pretty clean. What the hell. You move to grab the bar of soap on the little shelf on your left, but misjudge a footstep - you slip, hands knocking all the bottles down to the tub in a loud crash as you hit your head on the side of the tub.

“Y/N!? ARE YOU OKAY IN THERE?” You hear Amethyst shout from outside the door.

“Peachy!” You yell back monotonously, seeing stars and groaning.

You sit up groaning, your head spinning. Hot water is pouring on you, running down your face and shoulders.

Suddenly you remember the petrified look Spinel gave you before you kissed her and pushed her away, and you freeze. Your breathing picks up, and you slam a hand over your mouth as you feel yourself retch again.

Spinel.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

You vomit again, violently this time. Nothing comes up, but your body convulses and makes you puke up bile, acid burning the inside of your throat. The hot water sprays down on you as you shake uncontrollably.

You remember everything. The gem eater, the tunnels, bleeding, dying. Spinel.

You’re back on Earth, and she isn’t here. You bite your tongue, holding back more retching that your body wants to torture you with.

You’re alive and off that fucking planet somehow, and Spinel isn’t here.

With shaking hands, you finish washing your body as you try to keep your crumbling composure. You turn off the water, and grab for the towel next to you. You let your hands do the work on autopilot as you try to fend off the impending breakdown.

You put your clothes on, mind spinning with thoughts about how Spinel either thinks you’re dead, or worse, that you abandoned her there. You try not to cry thinking about it. You remember sitting at that tree, but everything after that is a bit fuzzy. It hurts to think about Spinel rushing back to you with what she thinks is life saving materials - just for you to be gone and nowhere to be found. Unless she saw the ship coming down? God that’s - that’s worse - you think, her sprinting back to you desperately, and seeing the ship fly away.

She knows you wouldn’t leave her.

Right?

You’re going back for her. That isn’t even a question. You’re terrified of what she’s even thinking about right now. You just hope you can easily convince the gems and Steven that everything that happened a month ago when she took you - it’s different, she’s different, and not a threat anymore. You towel dry your hair quickly, and once you put the towel back on the rack you can hear strained, hushed whispering beyond the bathroom door.

You hear your name being spoken, and quietly you walk over to the door to press your ear against it.

“ - but, she’s-”

“-Golgotha, Garnet! She was on GOLGOTHA. I’m ASTONISHED she lasted at all there considering she’s human and-” Pearl hisses out, and you can hear someone clanking pots and pans in the kitchen.

“What’s Golgotha!?” You hear Amethyst frustratedly huff out, and a ‘SSHHHH’ coming from Pearl. “You guys never tell me anything!”

“You don’t know because it was a colony that failed before you even existed, Amethyst!”

“How did Spinel warp there?” You hear Garnet wonder out loud, concern in her voice. “I was pretty sure they stopped all possible travel to that place.”

Your eyes widen at the sound of Spinel’s name being spoken. They know who she is? They know Spinel!? Then maybe -

“She had to have bypassed-”

“She wouldn’t have-”

“How did a colony FAIL?” Amethyst blurts out, cutting everyone off.

“Will you keep your voice down!?” Pearl hisses out angrily. “It failed because a bunch of gems disappeared, and resources went missing. They didn’t want to take any chances on a dying planet anyway so they packed up and left.”

“Yellow forbade anyone from going back to it. She even went as far to turn off the warp pad access.” Garnet says quietly.

“None of that matters, guys. She’s home safe, and that’s what counts.” Steven speaks up from the kitchen. “I just.. don’t know how to approach her about-”

“Her dying?”

“Amethyst!” Pearl interjects, and you can hear the frustration in her voice.

“Yeah. I. I failed her. It should’ve been me guys. Then she wouldn’t have had to deal with Spinel, and she wouldn’t have-”

“Steven, we’ve been trying to tell you all day that it’s not your fault, buddy! Y/N knew what she was doing when she put herself in danger, you know how she is! Nothing would have convinced her otherwise!” Amethyst yells out at him.

“If only we were a little faster getting to her, ugh, I should’ve thought about our keychains sooner! Minutes could’ve changed everything!”

“It wouldn’t have changed the outcome.” Garnet says. “We got to her as fast as we could.”

“I’m surprised at how well she fought off Spinel, considering it took several hours to figure out where she was and to even get to her.” Pearl mentions offhandedly.

Your stomach drops.

What? Hours?

“She’s resilient. You taught her well.”

What does she mean, hours? That literally makes no sense.

“She shouldn’t have been in that position in the first place. Spinel wouldn’t have been able to kill me anyway, and I could’ve talked her out of whatever she was feeling,” Steven hisses out angrily. “I don’t know where she was when we found Y/N and picked her up, or if she managed to poof her, but if I had seen her after the damaged she did to Y/N, I don’t know if I could’ve held back-”

Oh my god, they think Spinel tried to kill you. Your stomach fills with dread on top of the massive amounts of confusion you feel.

��Steven chill, she’s home and safe.” Amethyst says. “Hopefully this is the last gem that tries to-”

Unable to deal with any of this, you grab for the door handle, swinging the door open wide to stare at the gems standing in the living room. Steven’s in the kitchen with a pan in his hands.

They’re all staring at you like they’ve just seen a ghost - minus Garnet, of course.

Steven almost drops his pan. “Y/N-”

“What do you mean it only took a couple hours for you to rescue me?” You say, voice as shaky as your sanity levels.

They all just stand there in silence, and you see Pearl’s wide eyes turn to Garnet and then trail back to you. The quietness around the living room is palpable.

“Y/N, I know this is a lot to take in..” Pearl stares at you like you’re about to keel over.

“No, that literally makes no fucking sense.” You say, feeling yourself close to hyperventilation. “I get that I died.”

“You’ve been through a lot today dude, I think you should sit down and rest.” Even Amethyst looks concerned.

“I’m fine.” You stare at all of them. “How long did it take for you to come get me?”

“I know that space has no concept of day and night, but it hasn’t been that long.” Amethyst says bluntly.

“You haven’t checked your phone, Y/N?” Steven asks, confused. “I know we’re normally faster than this, but it hasn’t been that long. Why are you so concerned with the time right now?”

“What?” You didn’t think of that. Ignoring the rest of what he said to quickly scramble for the phone you put into your jeans pocket. You open your lock screen, and what you see makes you drop your phone onto the ground with a clatter.

“Y/N?” You hear Steven say.

You’re frozen in shock.

That makes no sense.

Somehow. Somehow - the date displayed on your lock screen is just a day after Spinel had taken you.

“Is this a prank?” You laugh, once, dryly. You pick your phone up off the ground. “This isn’t funny.”

Steven’s eyebrows furrow worryingly. “No, why would we-”

“Then why have only a couple hours passed? I was there for weeks.” You interrupt him.

They all look at you like you’ve grown another head.

“Y/N. You’ve been through a lot - I think something must’ve-”

“NO.” You yell out. You’re close to insanity. “STEVEN, WEEKS PASSED WHILE I WAS THERE.”

Your voice echoes out all throughout the living room, bouncing off the walls as they all look at you like you’re absolutely nuts. Steven sets the pan down and walks over to you, but Garnet puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“I think you need to sleep, because you sound crazy right now.” Amethyst says.

“I’M NOT-” Your fingers dig into your scalp, you’re close to ripping your hair out in frustration. You’re not insane, you lived every singl- wait a second. Your scar. You quickly point to the scar Spinel gave you when she first arrived. “THIS! REMEMBER THIS? SPINEL HIT ME WITH HER SCYTHE? AND IT’S COMPLETELY HEALED NOW.”

“Er, since I revived you, it closed all your wounds.” Steven stares at you. “Are you su-”

“I,” Your face drops. They can’t not believe you. “My nails? They’re longer, and I-” You cut yourself off, feeling your brain stutter from overuse.

“Y/N.” Pearl says, and you look over to her perplexed face. “You say you were there for weeks? That does explain the condition you were in when we got to you, even if-.”

“How did you survive for weeks!?” Amethyst interjects. “When we saw you earlier, Spinel had you by the THROAT.”

“Yeah she initially brought me there as bait to kill Steven, but she didn’t try to kill me.” You say as you try to control your breathing.

“Hold on a second.” Pearl makes a pointed face and pulls a datapad out of her gem, typing on it rapidly.

“She didn’t try to kill you?” Steven rubs at his brow, confused. “Then why were you bleeding out when we found you?!”

“No, that’s what I’ve been trying to say, there was a whole fuckload of shit that went on that hell hole of a planet!!!” You spit out.

“She might be right, actually.” Pearl speaks up, quickly tapping on the glowing screen in front of her. She zooms into some kind of planetary chart from what you can see. “Golgotha has the trajectory to be running at a much faster time. The red giant it’s orbiting is-”

The rest of her words fall on deaf ears as your mind goes blank and you unintentionally freeze up. Spinel is still there. You feel like you’re about to unravel.

“I-I need to go back.” You choke out. “How long has it been since you picked me up?”

“Y/N, you’re insane if you think-”

“SHE’S STILL THERE, ALL ALONE, AND PROBABLY THINKS I’M DEAD.” You cry out. “CALL ME INSANE ALL YOU WANT BUT I’M NOT LEAVING HER THERE.”

“Y/N-”

“If you won’t take me then I’ll steal Lars’ ship, and get there myself.” You stare at them.

Steven visibly deflates.

“Can we maybe talk about what happened to you first? You’re not-”

“Every minute I waste here is hours for her.” You cut him off. “How long was I out exactly? How long has it been since you rescued me?

“You were out for several hours, since this afternoon..” Pearl says. You bite the tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“Great, so it’s been weeks for her already.” You nod your head, feeling a couple tears roll down your cheek. You wipe them away quickly. “Let’s go. I’ll tell you guys what I’ve been doing all this time on the way.”

“But-”

You turn to look at Steven, and his eyes meet yours. You think he can read your expressions enough by now to know the state of your emotions.

“Do you trust me?” You ask him. His eyes wavering between yours, a silent understanding passes.

He gives you a curt nod.

“Let’s go.”

Once you get onto Pink’s ship, Pearl reroutes the coordinates back to the planet you just came from. By the time you get there, it will be over a month and a half since Spinel’s seen you.

You try not to think about the possibilities of what she’s doing without you. You are so anxious that the nausea in the pit of your stomach constantly threatens to make you hurl.

Steven has been watching you for a while now, and he holds out one of his hands. You try not to cry when you see his open palm, and you take it. It used to be something you did when he was in distress, and now he’s doing it for you. It gives you brief amounts of comfort. You love him dearly.

“So, let’s just start from the beginning.” Steven clears his throat. “When we last saw you, you were taken.”

“Yeah.” You focus your eyes on the floor, and try to steady out your breathing. If it weren’t for Steven holding your hand, you’d be pacing right now. “As I said, she really only wanted me as bait. And even that didn’t really last long, considering I think I screamed at her enough for her to want to get rid of me.. You called that planet Golgotha, right?”

“That’s correct.” Pearl speaks up. “It was one of Yellow’s old colonies.”

“Yeah, I know.” You say.

“You knew? How?” Pearl replies, perplexed.

“I’ll get to that in a minute. Anyway,” You take a breath. “Golgotha sucks, it’s hot as shit there and it took me a while to find food, even. I hated Spinel, at first. She wasn’t helpful, and honestly I wanted her dead after what she tried doing to Steven.” You feel Steven squeeze your hand. “But we came to a truce eventually, to try to get off the planet after she destroyed the warp pad. And then I learned of her past, and well, things went a little differently after that.”

You look up from staring at the floor, and Pearl gives you a face.

“Spinel was made to be Pink’s best friend.” You hear the concern in her voice. “When I knew her, she was completely different.”

“Yeah, and Pink left her in a garden for six thousand years, Pearl. Anyone would have issues after that.” They all look at you like they’re not the least bit surprised.

“Mom left her for six thousand years?” Steven looks at you, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. “No wonder you’ve been this distraught about leaving her.”

“And I haven’t even told you the rest.” You sigh. “We found a Spire, and the kindergarten there that the gems abandoned. It was.. so fucked up.”

“What do you mean?” Amethyst implores, crossing her arms over her chest. “Didn’t they just leave it?”

“Do you guys know exactly of what happened on Golgotha?” You turn to face Pearl.

“Other than it being a failed colony? No. The data extracted from them was incomplete.” She says, putting a thumb to her lip in consideration.

“Then it’s just Spinel and I who really know what went on.”

“What do you mean?” Steven asks, rubbing your hand with his thumb. You find his touch very comforting.

“It was a failed colony because of the gem eater.” You say, and all of them look at you apprehensively besides Garnet. Her face is almost comically blank.

“What..” Pearl squints at you as she trails off, face brimming with questions.

“So, hold on, let me make this clear.” You cough into your hand, clearing your throat. “Considering everything I’ve been through the last day, I’ve got the full picture. I don’t know how, but where they placed the kindergarten, there was a.. being already there.”

“A being?” Amethyst interrupts.

“I don’t know how to describe that thing, because I don’t know what it looked like prior to it draining all the injectors of the diamond’s essence to consume.”

“It WHAT?” Pearl drops her hand from her mouth in shock. “How could it-”

“I don’t know, honestly. All I know is that between what Spinel and I witnessed, and the incomplete data logs inside the Spire, that’s what I pieced together. Anyway. We learned that over a hundred gems went missing, and we also found multiple tunnels that all ended up being connected to the kindergarten, where this thing lived.”

“Of all planets she could’ve taken you, she had to take you to that one?” Amethyst comments, adjusting her stance.

“You’re telling me. That was a source of many of mine and Spinel’s arguments.”

“It sounds like you two became friends.” Garnet speaks up, and for some reason you get the feeling she can see right through you. You swallow all thoughts of potential implications.

“Something like that.” You ignore the way saying that makes you feel strange. “I think if it wasn’t for her, I probably would have died on that planet. Even if she was the one to bring me there in the first place, she still.. Anyway. I fell into one of those tunnels, where she eventually found me. We tried finding our way out, but instead ended up in it’s fucking lair. The gem eater had some kind of pheromone I’m guessing, because it smelt like shit and affected Spinel really weirdly. Makes sense that it lured all those gems into their death. I basically had to fight the thing off myself, because it wanted Spinel so badly.”

“Is that how you got that wound when we found you?” Amethyst asks, pointing at your stomach.

“Yeah.” You reply, placing your other hand that’s not holding Steven’s on your stomach as if you can still feel the gaping wound still. You had no time to really deal with any of that, and honestly, the current state of your psyche can’t really unpack it anyway. Dying? Ayy no problem.

“If Spinel wasn’t the one to hurt you, why was she nowhere near you when we came to pick you up?” Steven looks over to you, confusion in his eyes.

“I had her set me down so she could go grab supplies for me to do a rough patch job on my injury. As I said.. we were there for a couple weeks. I didn’t know if you guys were even coming for me, at that point.. I just didn’t want to die there.” You trail off. Steven’s still looking at you.

“Y/N, I’m sorry that it ended up that way, and that you had to go through that. We’re glad you’re still with us.” Garnet speaks up from the side, tone apologetic.

“I wouldn’t have been alive if it weren’t for Spinel.”

“You wouldn’t have been in harm’s way if it weren’t for me.” Steven says, looking guilty. You tug on his hand to look at you.

“I would do it all over again so you’d never have to experience what I did.” You look him in the eyes, pleading for him to understand this.

“Y/N..”

“Besides, it wasn’t all that bad. I gained a new friend.” You give him a small, wry smile, but your heart isn’t in it. You’re dreadfully terrified of what happens when you get back to Golgotha.

“When all of this is said and done, I’d like to talk more with you on what you experienced.” Pearl taps on the console in front of her, entering a few commands that you don’t care to pay attention to. “I’d like some clarity on a few things.”

“Yeah, just let me sleep for a week.” You reply, and Amethyst snorts.

“Ah, good ‘ol Y/N is back to her old habits pronto.” She puts her hands behind her head in a show of ease.

“Hey, I deserve it. You sleep on leaf piles and musty tarps for a month, and see how you feel about it.” You squint your eyes at her, and she laughs.

“We’ll be on the surface in less than an hour.” Pearl taps the screen a couple more times. “Where would you like us to land?”

You think you could spend a while wondering where Spinel could be on the surface. But you know her better than that by now.

“As close to the Spire as possible.” You hear yourself say.

Once the ship lands on the planet and the doors swoosh open, you breathe in the air of the jungle you didn’t miss whatsoever. It’s night, and the cold has already set in making your breath appear in front of you. The four of them - the gems and Steven, step out with you. The Spire��s about a mile away, as this is the closest clearing to it that she ship could land on.

You turn to them.

“I was wondering if I could go alone, actually.” You say to them, hesitantly.

“Why? What if something happens to you? We need to-” Pearl stops as Steven puts his hand up, cutting her off.

“Can I talk to you? Just for a second.” He says, grabbing you by the elbow and leading you gently about two dozen feet away from the others. You can see the worry in his eyes.

“What?” You ask. “I don’t want to waste any more time.”

“I know, I’m just worried..” His tone implies a lot of concern, and honestly you don’t know what you’d do without his presence in your life. He’s irreplaceable. “What I saw with her..”

“I need you to trust my judgement, Steven. You of all people know that everyone deserves a chance to improve, to be better.” You give him a look, and his eyes waver between yours.

“I do trust you, it’s just.. I just got you back.”

“I’ll be fine. The only threat that was on this planet is already dead. And I.. I made a promise to her.” You sigh and grab his hand, staring at his palm on yours. “I’ll be back before you know it. Keep the ship warm for me.”

He shares a look with you for several long seconds, and then nods.

“Be safe.”

You’re not going to lie when you say that once you got out of view of them and into the line of trees, you started to break out into a sprint, and kept running all the way to the Spire with minimal breathing breaks. It takes you probably only a little over five minutes to get there, and you’re out of breath by the time you get to the doors.

It’s a little alarming to see that the Spire doors aren’t even there. They’re ripped off completely, actually. You are scared and anxious of what you’ll find inside.

You step inside, and it’s pretty dark. There are leaves strewn everywhere, but nothing else looks out of place.

Spinel isn’t here.

You look to the staircase, finding it intact. Your legs work on autopilot, walking up every floor like you’ve done many times before, and this is no different. Passing by the level with the supplies you had told her to grab, you’re seeing several crates are smashed open.

You hope your gut feeling is right. It hasn’t failed you yet.

The closer to the top, the more nervous you get. What if she isn’t there? Where else could she go? She couldn’t have gone back down into the tunnels - that would make little sense. Two floors to go. You feel your hands start to shake in quiet fear.

You haven’t had a lot of time to think about any of the ‘what if’s’. You’ve been consumed mainly with thoughts of getting back to her. You reach the floor underneath the top one, and before you get to the other staircase, you can hear the wind much more loudly than before. Getting closer to it, and taking a couple steps up - you realize that the entire top of the rest of this Spire is blown off. Or torn off.

Two steps. Three steps. You swallow nervously. You can’t seem to steady your erratic breathing. You can see the moons glowing against the stone of the Spire. Reaching the top of the stairs, you misstep and trip on the top edge of the stair - falling to your knee and catching yourself with your hand.

You hear movement ten feet in front of you, and you look up, frozen in place.

Your eyes meet Spinel’s.

“..you’re alive?” The voice you want to hear most says, and she looks at you like you’re the last person she expected to see.

#spinel #spinel x reader #su #steven universe #distant lands #my fic

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hypnoticwinter · 4 years

Text

Down the Rabbit Hole part 25

“Jesus,” Erica breathes, “you weren’t kidding,” and I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

I’ve managed to keep my heartrate under control all the way down to the barrows but now that we’re here I’m able to let my breath out and relax a little, ironically. The place is a graveyard, a grisly butcher’s workshop of stinking ichor and dismembered copepods. It is unearthly quiet, even down here in the middle of the Pit’s guts, with the only sound being the dripping of glutinous white phlegm-like vital fluids and occasionally a far-off groan from the Pit’s musculature.

The copepods are everywhere, strewn all over the place like ragdolls, and very few of them are intact. The majority have had their arms ripped off and a ragged hole bored straight through the middle of their armored faceplate that looks like it goes several feet deep at least. Here and there there are dead leeches, the only trace of the leechman, the only thing giving any clue as to what might have happened her. I briefly wish that I still had my camera with me.

Saying goodbye to Elena had made me acutely aware that I may not have been prepared for what I was getting myself into. I had helped her out of the cot and she had stumbled and cried out and then I caught her, prepared for the worst, already starting to panic – had I done a bad job? Had I hurt her somehow while I was tending to her wounds and only now was she able to feel the effects of it, getting up and moving around?

Elena had looked at me, lips already curling into a sheepish grin, and then she must have seen the look on my face and stopped, stood there straight without any assistance from me and then put her hands on my face and cupped me to her and kissed me so long and so hard that I felt a little faint. Erica had coughed behind us, a little uncomfortably, but when we finally broke apart I really had eyes only for Elena, I couldn’t stop staring at her, at the freckles across her cheeks, at the way one of the corners of her lips lifted slightly higher than the other when she smiled, at a dozen little things like that that I wanted to fix in my mind.

I don’t think I really knew, not consciously, at least, why I made such an effort to keep a clear image of her in my head then, to get every detail down in as complete a manner as I could. It only became apparent to me once we had walked out to the Cord and Elena had opened the door and turned around and waved to me before disappearing that I had been so concerned with her safety that I had had no concern at all for mine.

The door clanged shut and Marcus had spun the wheel to seal it tightly and then Elena was gone. Before she left we had hugged again, there in Oyster’s Shame, amid the glistening walls and the sounds of more of the tiny pearly deposits falling here and there like a soft distant rain. “You come back to me,” she had growled, right into my ear, and I could feel her leave a wet spot on my cheek from where she had begun to cry, and I wanted so badly to go with her but I didn’t see any way I could.

“Well,” I had said to Erica, forcing myself to sound brighter than I had felt, “let’s get this over with.”

So we did.

Marcus kicks one of the dead leeches and it rolls a little. It looks like it has some weight to it, some heftiness that isn’t immediately apparent from how slender it is. It’s about the length of my arm. “What the hell is this, E?” he asks, looking up at her, and Erica shakes her head, getting down on her haunches to examine it.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” she says. “It’s a little bit like a gastric bristleworm but not as…I don’t know, bristly.”

I’m standing there in the back with my arms folded, waiting. Next to me is the stinking corpse of a copepod; this one has been crushed, its insides, ropy and white, flooding out in a great mass from its burst sides. Even with the helmet up I can smell it; Erica and Marcus must have cast-iron stomachs. Erica does, anyway; when we first made it down to the barrows we’d had to stop for a moment to let Marcus vomit.

The tracking PDA had lead us almost exactly the way we’d gone the day before, back before everything had gone to hell. I still don’t know exactly what had kicked it off to begin with; my best guess was that the Leechman had showed up and gone on a rampage just after we’d left with the crystal, and the copepods, they must have assumed that it was our fault, that we’d drawn it here or were somehow working with it. Did they know what it was? Did they recognize it? I wish the Big Guy were still around to ask but we had passed his desiccated, punctured corpse, recognizable only by the stump of one of its wrists, as we had made our way through the central chamber. Marcus is carrying the Sergeant’s slug rifle but he does so nervously, as though he’s afraid of it. He clearly isn’t familiar with the thing. I wonder what’ll happen if he does have to fire it, if it’ll just put him on his ass or if it’ll actually break a bone.

The two of them have been decent to me so far. Erica seems genuinely regretful about hitting me earlier; she doesn’t look at me most of the time, and if she does need me for something, mainly to use the suit computer to look at a map, she asks for me politely and in a soft voice. I thought that Marcus might curse at me or harbor some kind of ill-feeling; after all, Elena – after all, my girlfriend attacked him, and I have no doubt that if she had been able to get away with it she likely would have shot the both of them and washed her hands of it.

The thought makes me shudder very slightly, but not of fear or anger but just vague baseless exhilaration, of minor and muted joy that things are finally happening, for better or for worse, for good or ill, that great capital-letter THINGS WILL CHANGE finally rolling over and putting muscle behind its epitaph.

I had been terrified on the way down that the copepods would have torn us apart, would have eaten us. I had no confidence in Erica and Marcus’ ability to protect this little illicit expedition. They have no plan, no notion of what might be waiting for them. And I don’t know what they intend to do if they do actually manage somehow to get their hands on the crystal. Break it? But that’d be counterproductive, wouldn’t it, as if what Erica’s saying is right, that’d just give us that psychic illness.

If I don’t have it already. Was that dream a dream or the start of it? Is it –

No, stop. Don’t be ridiculous. It’s the perfectly normal sort of dream to have when you’re under this much stress, in these conditions. Once you’re out of here, once you’ve – Christ, I don’t know, gotten Elena some vacation time or sick leave or whatever the hell and spent the rest of your savings taking her to fucking Tahiti or somewhere, if you’re still having the dreams then, you can worry about it.

I could tell them, I could tell Erica and Marcus. It’d be easy. I could just say something like, ‘hey, uh, so there’s this giant fucking ogre made out of leeches wandering around down here and it’s got the crystal you’re after, and it killed all these copepods. Oh, and the crystal weighs about a ton and we had to get a robot to carry it, which I notice you guys didn’t bring with you. No, you can’t use our robot, it’s probably smashed to bits somewhere.’

They wouldn’t believe me. There’s no way in hell they’d believe me. Even if I did want to save their asses, which at the moment is not very high up on my priority list. I’m still maintaining the faint hope that they might actually find the damn Leechman and try to get into a fight with it, which would be my cue to run like hell.

“Roan,” Erica asks me, again using that mildly infuriating soft and considerate voice, “have you seen one of these before?” She’s holding the body of the leech out to me, grasping it like one might hold a snake, right behind the head. Its mouth gapes insanely wide and round and the body hangs limp. I can’t stop myself from taking a step backwards.

Goddam it, Erica.

“Leechman,” I say, and then I cough. Our eyes meet for the first time in a half hour. “The leechman’s here.”

Erica’s eyes seem to grow instantly deeper. Her mouth is open slightly, and she stares at me in silence until Marcus nudges her, his eyes flicking between her and me. “What’s the leechman?” he asks, and Erica, broken out of her reverie, licks her lips and glances over at him.

“Nothing,” she tells him, getting to her feet quickly. “A fairy tale. Like the boogeyman.”

Marcus doesn’t believe this; I can tell from the way he looks at her, but he doesn’t question it, just gets to his feet as well and follows her as she pulls out the tracking PDA, taps at the screen a few times, and then points down at one of the darkened vents. “That way,” she says, and where she points we follow.

We make our winding way through the ass-end of the barrows, the part we hadn’t gone through yesterday, and then the trail takes a corkscrewing, winding path downwards. We are very clearly in a section of the Pit that people have not been in very often. Even in the sections leading up to the barrows, where the flesh of the vents is left bare and uncovered, there are still lights strung here and there, little radio repeaters and every now and then a tiny, cramped-looking ranger station, mostly mothballed and closed-off, but still evidence that someone had come before us. In the barrows, though, this stopped entirely. There were little trails of cleat-marks here and there, but I think the majority of them were from us stomping through earlier, they looked too fresh, too new.

We only saw a couple of copepods, and these from far off, across vast chasms of flesh, scarred here and there like cliff-faces. I couldn’t divine their purpose, just – anomalies of anatomy, no meaning, no clear analogue I can draw. Just places where the flesh falls away and vague misty nothing takes its place. As I stand on the precipice looking over and down into darkness, watching the way my flashlight beam peters out depressingly soon, I swear that for a moment I can see something moving around, something large, fluttering and flapping and swooping like some kind of giant bat, but if anything was there, it vanished so quickly as to not leave an impression on me other than a brief glimpse of size and frantic motion.

I turned back to see if Marcus or Erica had seen any of it but they were huddled together, deep in conversation, hunched over the PDA. After a moment I traipsed over to join them. With each step on the way down I had felt my weariness building, both in my body and in my heart – I had shoved so much out of the way down somewhere inside of me where I didn’t have to feel it, and it was only now that it was beginning to creep back out at me.

We’d passed some things I’d recognized from the rest of the squad – there was a torn piece of a suit there, in a small knurled corner, dirty and speckled with red matter that might have been blood or bits of flesh. I didn’t look closely enough to check. A boot, cleated firmly into the ground. Nothing as definite as a body; the closest I saw was a great foaming gout of blood splashed across the floor and up part of the wall of the vent, but no indication as to whether it came from a person, from a member of the team, from Klaus or Euler or – or Peter, or whether it was just natural, some artery in the floor being clipped during the fighting and spraying everywhere until capillary action cut it off.

If I think about it I won’t be able to go on. I can’t bear to –

Alright, Roan. Easy girl. Deal with it later. Right now just focus on staying alive. Get back to Elena and then you can cry about things. God, poor Peter, though; and poor Makado, waiting for him. How would I feel if it had been me up there and Elena down here?

I think of her, alone, making her way up the Cord, no weapon, still hurting, probably, as the painkiller starts to wear off, and I bite my lip, hard. Goddam it, I’m not going to cry. Not down here. She’s fine, she’s going to be perfectly fine. She knows how to handle herself.

I focus instead on the ache in my knees, in my back, in my arms. We’ve been going for so long, it feels like; hours upon hours. I’d check the time on the wrist computer but these damn gloves - !

Erica and Marcus look tired as well, at least. Maybe they’ll want to rest soon. We’ll be able to eat, sleep perhaps…they have to have some kind of tent, or sleeping bags, or something, even if it’s not one of the fancy hexagonal ones the squad used. I think about pointing out that we’re all dog tired, we might as well take a break before we go further, but I nix that idea quickly – I don’t want to seem weak. Erica’s given the impression that she won’t push me but Marcus is still a wild card, I don’t know him, how he handles stress, how he’ll act in a couple of hours when he’s even more tired and hungry.

They gesture and lead on, and I follow, dead on my feet but still forcing myself to continue.

And then, after fifteen minutes of walking, down treacherous polyped inclines, past outcroppings of redundant, keratinous spines, we find, laying in a slump with his neck at an awkward unnatural angle, his eyes terribly bright and aware, Euler.

I cry out when I see him; my stomach makes a horrible lurch as I take in the gnawed markings dotting his once-bright ranger suit, round and puckered and blood-crusted. The leeches have been at him but left him alive for some inscrutable reason. He coughs as we shine our lights on him and shifts feebly but he is unable to move more than an inch or two – his spine is clearly broken.

I hadn’t expected to find any bodies; somehow I had guessed that one way or another, anyone lost down here would be utterly irretrievable. But there is Euler, the one person I would never have expected to survive – I guess I underestimated him.

Or perhaps his current condition isn’t really surviving in the main sense. Once I’ve gathered my senses I rush to him and kneel there beside him. I have nothing to offer him, no painkillers, no first aid, nothing besides companionship, but it’s better than standing and gawking as Erica and Marcus seem to be satisfied with. I wipe his forehead with my gloved palm lightly, the sweat shining on the rubber in the wake of my flashlight, and Euler’s eyes shift up to meet mine and he croaks out my name in a hoarse voice. He says it wrong, like it were one syllable, but hearing someone I care about even infinitesimally say it is like breathing after being underwater.

“Euler,” I tell him, and my voice breaks just a tiny bit right at the end. I lick my lips and try again. “Euler, what the hell happened to you?”

“I’m – it’s bad, Roan,” he says. Rone. Should have changed my name in that rebellious phase, added that accent mark I always longed for. There’d be less ambiguity. I smile to myself in spite of everything and he grins at me, just a little bit, but his eyes stay wide and frightened. They flick over to Erica and Marcus, and I look back at them as well, and then give an exasperated sigh.

“Don’t you two have any damn medical things? A first aid kit?” They glance at each other. “Anything?”

“I thought you might…” Euler coughs. “Might have come to rescue us.”

I frown. Us?

“Euler, are there…more people from the squad down here? Hurt somewhere?”

He shakes his head minutely, then winces. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know where to touch him without hurting him. I tear my glove off with my teeth, just lay my hand against his cheek. It feels like an awkwardly intimate gesture but I don’t know what else to do, I don’t know how else to help. If it were me I think I’d – I think I’d want human contact, something skin to skin. I think it might be a comfort.

“What happened?” I whisper.

“The Leechman,” he says, “it – it grabbed me and then it –“

He cries out, gently, and I move my hand downward and grab his. He clutches at me desperately. The last time I had seen him the leeches had been streaming into his open mouth, writhing against him, wrapping him like a hundred pythons at once. I bite my lip and glare back at Erica again. “Will you two fucking do something?”

“He’s clearly past any help we could give him,” Erica says, and Marcus nods.

For a very brief moment I am so intensely angry I feel as though I might burst into flame. Euler cries out softly again and I realize I have squeezed his hand too hard, and I jerk my hand back from his, muttering a stammered apology. He shakes his head.

“They’re right, I’m done for,” he tells me. “You should – you’re going down further?” he asks, frowning, and I nod.

“Those two want the crystal,” I tell him, lowering my voice a little.

“It went…that way,” he says, glancing to the right, further down the vent and into the Pit’s depths. We sit there in silence for a moment longer and then finally work up enough nerve to ask him the question I wanted to.

“Are you in pain?”

He thinks about it for a moment. “It feels like I should be but it’s just dull.” He breathes heavily. “I’m afraid.”

“Euler, don’t –“

“I’m going to die down here,” he says, and there is a terrible layer of finality in his voice that makes my heart fall.

“No, Euler, you’re not –“ I start, but then cut myself off. Because he’s right, isn’t he? I can’t argue with him, there’s no way in hell that we’re going to be able to get him out of here. If he has a broken neck there’s no fucking way we could stabilize him well enough to carry him out of here, and even if we could, I’d need Erica and Marcus’ help, which they don’t seem incredibly inclined to give me. I look back at them and start to get up, but Euler catches the cuff of my suit and I stop, hunkered over awkwardly.

“Roan, I saw – “

He coughs; I can see his chest heaving. I wonder about those leeches; I know I saw them flooding into his mouth, forcing their way down his throat…what would have –

“I saw inside it,” he tells me. I frown.

“Inside what?”

“The Leechman,” he says. His eyes are boring into mine with a horrible intensity, practically bulging outwards. “I saw inside it and – and it was so bright –“

“Euler, I don’t know what you –“

“Don’t leave me down here,” he says quietly, and then lets go. There is a pleading in his eyes that stops me dead. I’ve let my mouth fall open slightly, but there is no mistaking what he means, there is no ambiguity in the quiet desperation in his tone. He wants me to –

I get up quickly. My hands are shaking and my arms and legs feel like I’ve been whipped with a coil of lightning. I walk over to Erica and Marcus, and Erica nods at me. “You ready to go?” she asks, and I shake my head. I open my mouth and try to talk but I choke a little, then cough and try it again.

“Erica, Euler, he –“

“What is it?”

I shut my eyes. “Kill him,” I tell her. “He asked me to but I can’t – I can’t do that. He’s scared and he doesn’t want to have to lay down here unable to move for a couple more days before something fucking eats him or he dies of exposure. Please.”

Erica’s eyes are very dark. She glances at Marcus, then back at me, before she reaches down to her belt and unsnaps the holster there, then hands me the revolver. I nearly drop it; it’s heavier than I had expected. “Do it yourself,” she tells me. Her voice is like glass. “We’ve wasted enough time here already.”

“You – “ I start, but I choke it back. She’s trusting me giving me the revolver; this means something to her. This is a test. But what am I supposed to do? Can I –

But you already did once before, some part of me whispers at the back of my head. Remember Rey? He’s dead because of you. And before that -

Marcus is covering me with his own slim little pistol. I swallow hard and try not to feel the imprint of its muzzle, covering me from five, seven, ten feet away from me, my back itching as I half-expect to hear a report and feel a sharp shock –

But nothing happens. I make it to Euler; he’s watching me, his eyes rolled upwards in a manner that somehow distinctly reminds me of a dog, somehow, and I hate myself for thinking so, but he’s looking at me in the same way a dog will look up at you, not moving its head, its eyes wide and hopeful.

I thought the gun might feel better in my hand after I’d had it there for a while, but it’s still awkward and heavy and purposeful. It’s much heavier than the pistol they’d given me to practice with during qualifications back on the range a few days ago; that one hadn’t even felt like a gun, it hadn’t felt real. This one most certainly does.

Euler nods at me infinitesimally. “It’s…alright,” he says. He seems to be laboring a bit more now; maybe he hadn’t been expending very much energy until we came across him. I certainly didn’t hear any cries for help on the walk up. If he’d been there the whole time, for hours, listening to the Leechman and the copepods duke it out…

“Euler,” I say, “what did you mean when you said you saw inside the Leechman?”

“Roan,” he says. His eyes are fixed on the revolver. I’m stalling, I realize; I’m putting it off so that maybe somehow this responsibility will be removed from me. The inside of my mouth is very dry and I swallow hard, willing some moisture to return to it.

“Okay,” I say quietly. Okay, I think to myself. I take the revolver, hold it in two hands, one on the handle, the barrel resting in the palm of my other hand. I look at the cylinder, fumble for a moment before that trip all those years ago with my dad comes back to me and I find the catch and swing it outwards. Erica hasn’t reloaded since she shot Elena, I note, some dull part of my mind logging the information without any further comment. I can see the tiny mark of the struck primer on one of the cartridges. But I won’t find any salvation here, there are still five more shots that are perfectly serviceable.

I click it shut, remembering, as my dad told me, not to flick it closed, not to spin it. You aren’t a cowboy, he’d said to me gravely, pressing the gun into my chest. It had smelled like oil and metal, like something functional, like when you open the hood of your car. And I had trembled then as I am now, and I had looked out across the flat open expanse of grass –

Even then I couldn’t bear to think of it after I’d done it.

I’m stalling.

Goddam it, Roan, goddam you and your willingness to stick your neck out.

Euler makes a small noise beneath me and I look down at him. “Are you sure?” I ask, willing him to say no, to rethink it, to give me a reprieve. He nods.

“Just do it,” he says. “They won’t come get me, they won’t care. Just do it.”

“Okay,” I breathe, and then I hold the gun in two hands – why does it come back to me so easily? – and put it up very close to his forehead, and Euler shuts his eyes, and I shut mine as well. I inhale and then exhale.

Five minutes later I hear feet squelching up behind me and then Marcus is crouching next to me and prying the gun from my nerveless hands. “It’s okay,” he says, not unkindly, and then he is gently pushing me out of the way. I get to my feet, not knowing what else to do. I meet Euler’s eyes and I start to say something, then I stop. There is no blame in them, or maybe I don’t want to see blame. So instead I turn around and hunch myself against the wall, and when the gunshot finally sounds I flinch, and then I finally let myself cry.

When I turn back around I can’t bring myself to look at him. I instead watch Marcus hand the revolver back to Erica, watch Erica slip it back into the holster, watch Marcus shove his pistol into the waistband of his heavy-duty jeans. I blurt out the only thing that comes to my mind and tell him that he shouldn’t carry one in the chamber like that, it’s dangerous, and Marcus gives me a pitying look and says nothing. When I meet Erica’s eyes they are lighter than before and I realize, with a shudder as another wave of tears rolls soundlessly down my cheeks, that whatever test there was, whatever reason made her give me the revolver, I passed.

And then we stomp off into the darkness and leave poor Euler behind.

* * *

The next day I feel better. I slept better than I thought I might have, sandwiched between Erica and Marcus in their tent, cramped and with not enough air mattresses or sleeping bags, but I managed. They shared some of their food with me, MREs scavenged from some surplus store somewhere, which I found faintly comforting, and then the next day, when someone’s alarm blared and woke us, I was disconcertingly and surprisingly fresh-feeling. All the pain and sorrow I thought might have come boiling out of me when I let my guard down never did, and instead it was replaced with a calm, warm, faintly comforting deadness. I was, I realize now, preparing on some level to die. I had arrived at a zenlike state that had me convinced I was either dead or dreaming, a fragile state of mind that I had tried so hard to reach at that dojo in Oklahoma but which constantly eluded me.

Since Friday I am complicit now in two murders, one arguably and one less so. When I think of myself the person I am is thorny and sharp-edged and armored and I do not recognize her when I hold her in my arms. I blow out a breath and pop my eyes open as Marcus nudges me and hands me a cup of bootleg espresso made from two freeze-dried pouches, and I take it gratefully and even manage to smile at him. I feel…clean.

We’ll see how long that lasts.

More walking, more bypasses across stinking rivers of digested slurry, more crawling across meter-wide cords of banded muscle. The anatomy gets stranger and stranger, more open, more wild. Nerves like waving cilia, waggling at us like anemones, retract at lightspeed at our approach. Everything is luminescent down here, everything glows, but what glows brightest of all is the rectangular blocky backlight of Erica’s PDA, guiding us forward like a north star. She seems less certain of it, less sure; she stops and consults with Marcus every now and then and I feel fairly frequently like I have simply been forgotten, like I am an insurance policy for the return trip, a hostage kept in waiting to be revealed and used as leverage later on.

Will Makado care, I wonder, when she knows that they’ve taken me? I hope she will. I think we got close enough that she would. I think she likes me.

Does she like me enough to send a team after me? I’m sure there’s some kind of tracking device in this suit but will it even function this deep down? I don’t know.

I stub my toe on a bloated adipose swelling and it belches a gout of rank, sticky fluid on me. We pause again for Marcus to vomit.

Eventually we make it to a curled, winding passageway, a tight intestinal-feeling loop that circles in on itself over and over again, the tissue struggling against us at every turn, that we have to claw and scrape and crawl through but that the PDA swears is the right way to go, the simplified arrow logo spinning back around and directing us back in every time we think of turning around and trying someplace else. We push through and through until finally it vomits us out, breathing hard and covered in blood and strands of pale-white membrane, and then we stop, eyes wide, staring up and up and up at the space we’ve found ourselves in.

It’s enormous, the size of a stadium and at least twice or maybe three times as deep, great gnarled coils of sparking nerves weaving in and out of the fleshy, irregular walls casting macabre light in regular snaking patterns across the broad flat plate of bone that divides the space nearly in half, knotty and bulging and thick, honeycombed and dripping with thick resinous marrow.

There are things moving, I realize, on the far-off floor of the chasm, great writhing worms or – no, no, they have legs. Squat lizard-like figures, then, moving in fits and starts, their flesh a glistening pale sickly color, like milk that’s gone off. They must be simply enormous for us to be able to see them from this distance. I glance back at Erica and Marcus; their mouths are open, dumbstruck as well – they must not have known this was here. Could we be the first to find this place?

I watch a shadow, a patchy midnight cutout, detach itself from the bone plate and fall swooping to the floor of the chasm, and then it wings its way back up, one of the lizards caught in its claws, dangling beneath like a rabbit caught by a hawk. I watch, overwhelmed, as the – the thing, whatever it is, I want to call it a bird but it can’t be, it simply can’t be – flutters ungainly and graceless back to the bone and vanishes with its prey into a whorled hole in the side, ragged and uneven.

“What is this place?” I mutter to Erica, after I’ve regained enough of my senses to think to speak, and she shakes her head faintly.

“I have no idea,” she tells me, but before I can say anything else I hear a noise from above us; a subtle noise, like a whistling, drawn-out swoosh, and when I look upwards I can only see a diving, dark-furred silhouette with outstretched, foot-long claws and a hungry, slavering mouth.

I don’t have time to scream.

Continue with Part 26

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#mystery flesh pit #writing #writeblr #alt lit #Novel #original writing #mystery #thriller #disaster #caving

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arbitrarydelight · 3 years

Text

It's New Year's Eve, Let's Get Drunk

Sometimes friendship is getting drunk with your classmate who just climbed through the window. Happy New Year!

About 2100 words. Warning for underage drinking.

It was New Year’s Eve and Sol was alone in the house.

This wasn’t anything new. He was used to this—to staying home while his parents went out to parties and galas and banquets and whatever else they were invited to. It was an arrangement that worked out for all of them, since Sol didn’t want to wear a suit and embarrass himself in a room full of big names and his parents didn’t want him embarrassing them either. These kind of events were, after all, “networking opportunities.”

After seventeen years, it didn’t bother him because he didn’t let it bother him. Not even when he came back from winter break and heard his classmates talk about what their families did. He was good at not being jealous.

Tonight would be like any other night. Sol would spend it watching reruns of some sitcom or other, inevitably losing the plot by the fiftieth episode. If he was lucky, he’d drift off to sleep right there on the couch and then the night would be over. He’d wake up to a new year and strangely enough, he would feel better even though nothing had changed.

He was on the sixth episode of The Batvenger: Fly by Night, a painfully C-list series whose titular hero reminded Sol way too much of another masked bat, when he heard tapping at the window. His first thought was the wind or maybe a tree branch but the sound continued, getting louder until it was clear that someone—a clearly irritated someone—was at the window. Which was kind of terrifying because home invaders were a thing and Sol’s house certainly had enough valuables to feed them for years.

It did, however, seem counterproductive for a robber to knock before they entered. So resisting his instinct to hide beneath the bed, Sol turned his head towards the window and was rewarded by a freckled face grinning at him.

Oh. It was Chet. Well, that was better than—than armed robbers or something.

“Wait—this is the second floor.” How the hell had he gotten up? There was a tree by the window but the branches were thin and shit, Chet could fall at any moment. Sol wrenched open the window and grabbed Chet’s arm, pulling him in before he did. “You could’ve just knocked like a normal person.”

Chet shrugged, completely unapologetic. “Felt like climbing, I guess. Anyways, look what I brought!” He lifted a hand and showed Sol the bottle he was carrying. It was tinted blue and labelled in a language Sol couldn’t read, but it was obvious what it was.

Sol was suddenly reminded of all the elementary school assemblies he sat through, the ones with policemen who shook their fingers at an auditorium full of kids and told them to say no to peer pressure. He was pretty sure, like ninety-nine point nine percent sure, that he shouldn’t be doing this.

Sol swallowed, looked at Chet, and found that he couldn’t bring himself to say no. Because it was Chet. “We’re underage,” he said instead. The drinking age in Ontario was what, nineteen? They still had two years to go.

Chet must’ve found that funny because he barked out a laugh and shook the bottle in Sol’s face. The liquid inside—vodka, Sol guessed—sloshed obnoxiously. “Since when has that stopped anyone? New year, new—” Chet squinted at the bottle. “Damn, I can’t pronounce this.”

Sol tried again. “Shouldn’t you be at home? It’s New Year’s Eve.”

"I snuck out,” Chet said smugly. “My mom let me, she probably knows I’m at your place. I think she feels sorry for you.” He said the last part quietly, like he wasn’t sure if he should say it at all.

Sol looked away. Chet’s parents were nice, or at least nicer than his were, and his mother always gave him soft, worried looks whenever he came over. Chet didn’t know how good he had it, Sol thought. Or maybe he did and that was why he was here, waving a bottle of vodka in Sol’s face. It kind of made Sol feel warm and fuzzy inside. Saying no was getting harder and harder.

With a sigh, the last of Sol's resistance faded and he held a hand out for the bottle. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll try.”

He didn’t have any cups. Sol wasn’t messing with his parents’ crystal collection, not when his parents still hadn’t forgiven him for dropping a tumbler when he was eight. In his defense, he liked shiny things as a kid and crystals were just that—shiny cups. So he took the bottle and chugged it straight.

Then immediately spit it all out because god, it tasted disgusting. Vodka was basically rubbing alcohol in a fancy bottle. It tasted sterile and even worse, it burned.

“Christ,” Sol muttered, wiping his mouth on the back of a hand. He looked up, realizing that he’d sprayed vodka and spit all over Chet. “Um, sorry.”

Chet was laughing, which was sort of mean but made Sol want to smile too. After a while, he calmed down, though a grin remained on his face. “First time for everything,” he said and grabbed the bottle from Sol. “Here, I’ll show you how it’s done.”

He was staring at Sol as he brought the bottle to his mouth, green eyes turned towards him like he was waiting for a reaction. Sol sat there and felt kind of warm. He watched the movement of Chet’s throat as he swallowed and wondered if he was drunk already. Even though he hadn’t actually drank anything. Weird.

Chet drank well, without any hesitation, which didn’t surprise Sol one bit. He was sort of a delinquent and it made sense that underaged drinking went hand-in-hand with starting fights and smoking on school property.

With a satisfied look on his face, Chet finished and brought the bottle down. He handed it back to Sol and looked at him expectantly. “Your turn.”

Right. Sol was supposed to drink too, actually drink and not just spit vodka on Chet’s shirt. He took the bottle and stared at the rim, working up the courage for a second try. Vodka tasted bad, really bad, and he had no idea how Chet stomached it. Was getting drunk really worth it? He wouldn’t have said it was, but getting drunk with Chet, that was different.

He brought the bottle to his mouth and took a breath. Some part of him thought about indirect kisses and he pushed it away because now was not the time, not when he was about to get crazy drunk.

This time, Sol was ready for the burning sensation as he forced the vodka down, ignoring the nausea that hit his throat. For good measure, he swallowed again and then a third time, just because he wanted to impress Chet. “There,” he gasped. “I did it.”

Chet was looking at him with wide eyes. “That was a lot,” he said slowly, like he wasn’t sure if Sol was okay.

Sol looked at the bottle. The two of them had somehow managed to drink a little less than half of it, and already, he was starting to feel the effects. There was nothing to do but shove the bottle back to Chet. If he was getting stupid drunk then Chet was too, especially since it had been his idea in the first place.

“Drink up, Chester,” Sol said and winced at how loud his voice was. Since when had volume control become so difficult? He shook the bottle in Chet’s face, just like Chet had before.

“Fuck you,” Chet said fondly and finished the rest of the bottle.

They sat there and waited for the alcohol to work. It was actually a little underwhelming, two boys sitting on the floor while the room spun around them.

“I don’t feel drunk,” Sol said and couldn’t tell if his voice was still too loud. One hand went to his face, testing for numbness, and he found he couldn’t tell that either. “Do you feel drunk?”

Chet tilted his head back and closed his eyes. “I feel like I’m gonna puke,“ he groaned.

“Well, don’t.”

“Distract me then,” Chet said and the way he said it made Sol’s face heat up. Or maybe he was just drunk and hearing things because the next thing Chet said was, “do a funny dance.”

That was the stupidest idea ever but somehow, it made sense. Still, Sol wasn’t doing it. He didn’t know how to and besides, his legs felt wiggly enough that he’d probably fall over as soon as he tried. “I can’t dance,” he said.

“Yeah you can.” Chet leaned forward and reached out with fumbling hands to grab Sol’s shoulders. He shook, once, hard, and tried to pull Sol up. “Let’s do it right now.”

Sol tried to get up, he really did, but then his legs collapsed beneath him. He stumbled, grabbed Chet for support, and ended up pulling him down with him. The two of them fell over in a mess of flailing limbs, Sol hitting the ground with Chet on top of him.

Sol flushed and it wasn’t from the alcohol. “This isn’t dancing,” he mumbled, tongue strangely heavy in his mouth. He felt Chet’s body against his, limbs tangled against each other, and wanted to shove him off. But he wouldn’t—shouldn’t—need to. Chet would get off by himself. If he stayed, it was weird.

So either Chet was weird or he was really, really drunk because he didn’t move at all. Instead, he all but relaxed, flopping on Sol with an exhale. The feeling of Chet’s weight on him was more comfortable than Sol would ever admit. He was warm too and his breath ghosted the side of Sol’s neck, making him want to get closer but also to run away. Rather than doing either of those, Sol awkwardly patted Chet’s back.

“Comfy?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Chet replied. He shifted a little, and Sol was met with a faceful of orange curls and hands that grabbed at his arms. “Actually, I thought you’d be bonier,” Chet said, squeezing a bicep and making Sol go red.

“I’m not that skinny,” Sol said, except if he compared himself to Chet, then he kind of was. But that wasn’t fair—Chet played sports so of course he would have more muscles. “I’m also not drunk,” he announced to no one in particular.

“Well, I am,” Chet said and laughed, propping himself up on his elbows so he was looking down at Sol. He stared at Sol with a thoughtful look on his face, and Sol hoped he couldn’t tell how flustered he was.

“You have nice hair,” Chet said after a while. “It’s so long. Does it make people think you’re a girl?” He reached out and yanked a strand.

“Sometimes, but only from the back,” Sol admitted. “They take it back as soon as I turn around—ow, that hurts.”

“Sorry, I’m drunk,” Chet mumbled.

Sol rolled his eyes. Like that was a good excuse for pulling on people’s hair. The room was spinning around him but his hands weren’t anywhere near Chet’s head. “So am I,” he said and got an apologetic grin in response.

“I’m more drunk,” Chet said and moved his hand to the top of Sol’s head, patting it clumsily. “This better?”

“Sure.” Sol closed his eyes and let Chet keep touching him. He was running fingers through his hair, making Sol thank his past self a million times for deciding to grow it out. Sometimes Chet pulled too hard or twisted his hand in the wrong direction but he stopped as soon as Sol made a noise about it. Then he was back to soft touches that made Sol sigh and his heartbeat slow. It was actually rather nice, nicer than it had any right to be.

“God, you’re so…” Chet trailed off, an impossibly nice expression on his face, and Sol wanted Chet to look at him like that forever.

He had a feeling this wasn’t what friends did, or boys, or boys who were friends. But it was New Year’s Eve and they were drunk and Chet was—Chet was special. Sol wanted him to do things like play with his hair and look at him like he was the only one in the world. He had a tendency to feel like that around Chet, even if he wasn’t sure why.

The clock would strike midnight soon and then it’d be New Year's. The first New Year he'd be spending with company. The first one he'd be spending drunk too, and more important than either of those, the first one with Chet.

“Merry New Years,” Sol said after a moment.

“Yeah,” said Chet. “You too.”

He was going to remember this day for the rest of his life. Or at least he hoped he would, if alcohol-induced memory loss didn’t get to him.

#my writing #my ocs #writeblr #writers of tumblr #original fiction #pillowfort is down so guess i post fic here #and yes i know its april

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softboywriting · 5 years

Text

Hitched | Shawn Mendes

Summary: After a wild night in Vegas you and Shawn end up married according to the tabloids. Will these rumors change your dynamic and be the push the two of you need to finally admit your feelings for each other, or will it be the end of your relationship both professionally and personally? [personal assistant reader] [fake married] [accidentally married] [non au theme]

Word Count: 8.5k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Early morning sun blinds you through the windows of your hotel suite. Your head pounds, body feeling like it's been hit with a sack of bricks. Your mouth is dry like sandpaper as you reach for a bottle on the nightstand. There's a heavy weight across your stomach and you look down. An arm. A bulky thick arm with the tattoo of an orchid in a light bulb. Shawn.

You push back the blankets to reveal the sleeping giant. He is sprawled out beside you on his stomach, arm across your waist, face pressed into the pillows. This wasn't the first time the two of you ended up in bed together, and it wouldn't be the last. At least he went home with you last night. As soon as the tequila shots had come out, you started to worry. Shawn and tequila don't mix well and he gets a little crazy.

A pang of sickness washes over you and you need to get up. It's not like you to drink when Shawn drinks. It's sort of your job to keep him out of trouble and on task. But shit happens. At least he's with you, like you said. You did your job well enough. You push at his arm and instead of removing it, he curls it tighter around you, pressing on your stomach.

“Shawn, I have to get up. I feel sick.”

“Mmm.” He groans and rubs his face into his pillow. “No, stay with me.”

“Shawn. Now.”

“Stop talking.” He rolls over, toward you, and tugs you closer to him. “My head hurts.”

“You're hungover.”

“Probably.”

You run your hand over his hair and glitter falls out. You have no idea where that came from but it isn't what you're really focusing on. No. The ring on your finger is what catches your eye. It's Shawn's, his pinky ring, the rose gold one. Why were you wearing it on your wedding ring finger? Why were you wearing it at all? Oh no. A portion of the night comes flooding back to you. Brian had been joking with Shawn that since he lost his passport yesterday morning, he was illegal in the USA. Oh God Shawn no. You love Shawn, hell, you know him better than most at this point. It's hard not to fall in love with someone like him, but those feelings were counterproductive to your job and he could never know. Though you suppose he already does, the two of you couldn't deny looks and familiar touches. It was complicated.

“Shawn get up,” you push him off of you and he sits up quickly. “What happened last night?”

He holds his head and groans loudly. He'd had far more to drink than you did. “I don't remember.”

You put your hand out for him. “Did we get married?”

“What?!” Shawn grabs your hand and studies the ring on your finger. “No! Why would we do that?! I know we got smashed but fucking christ.”

“I don't know! Call Brian. Maybe he remembers?”

Shawn pats around under the pillows and produces his phone. “Fuck,” he turns the screen toward you and there's a bunch of missed calls and texts. You can't help but notice his background is the two of you backstage at the capital summertime ball last year. He picked you up on his shoulders to see the stage and Brian snapped a photo. He calls Andrew instead of Brian since the missed calls were all from him.

“Morning newlyweds,” Andrews voice crackles over the speakerphone between you and Shawn. “Hungover?”

“Andrew what happened last night?”

“You guys must have been seriously messed up. You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

You sigh. “Andrew what happened?”

“Well Brian convinced Shawn that because we can't find his passport, he had to marry a US citizen to stay in the country. Which is ridiculous, because I just had to go get a temp until we can get back to Toronto and get a new one. Anyway, you and Shawn ditched everyone and went to get hitched in the basement chapel of the hotel by some Elvis impersonator who was on site for a gimmick wedding being hosted last night.”

“It's probably not even legal then. We didn't sign anything, it's just a ceremony right?”

“No, not technically, he was a justice of the peace though. Registered and everything. Brian and Zubin were your witnesses.” Andrew sighs and you roll your eyes. “Luckily it was just you four idiots and no one but us knows about this.”

Shawn holds his head. “Okay well, it's fine then.”

“Perfect. Thank Andrew.” You click to hang up and stare at Shawn. “You're so dumb y'know that?”

“Oh shut up. You obviously agreed to go along with it, so you're pretty dumb too.”

You shove him and he shoves you back, pinning you to the bed. “Shawn I swear to God if you-”

He leans down and gets close to your face. His breath ghosts over your cheek and jawline. He's going to threaten to lick you. Somehow he found out that spit grosses you out; the wet feeling, the knowing it came from someone else's mouth, all of it just squicks you out. He found out and now every chance he gets he uses it against you when he doesn't get his way or wants something. He was a damn man child sometimes. “Take it back or I'll do it.”

“Never.”

“Last chance.”

You close your eyes and wait for the worst. You'll never admit defeat. He was dumb, the whole marriage thing had to be his idea. How he convinced you in your drunken state to marry him you will never know. Obviously your brain had decided to put feelings for Shawn over work, rational thinking and common sense last night, but it's still definitely his fault.

He opens his mouth and you can feel his breath hotter than ever. You struggle against his hold and then go still when his mouth connects with your cheek. It's not spit, it's not his tongue. It's his lips, warm and soft against your skin.

“What're you doing?”

“What?”

You peek one eye open and look down at him. “Aren't you going to lick me?”

“Nah. You're my wife now.” He grins and kisses your cheek again. “I guess I gotta be sweet on you.”

“Oh shut up! I'm not actually your wife!” You shove him as he releases your arms and falls over laughing. “Get dressed chuckles. We have to be at the airport soon.”

____________________

“So are you taking my last name then?” Shawn asks with a smirk from the seat beside you. “Because I think it suits you.”

“I'm not talking to you anymore.”

“You have to! You're my assistant and my best friend.” He slides his hand over yours on the arm rest between the two of you. “Please talk to me?”

You let his fingers curl around yours as you close your eyes. He always held your hand when the plane was taking off. It's just how it was. You needed something real to hold on to until you were in the air and he was always that something. “What am I supposed to say?”

“Just answer my question. Are you taking my last name?”

“Why does it matter? We're not actually married so who cares?”

“I care.”

You cut him and glare and he isn't even smiling like he was joking. “Why?”

“I just do. Hypothetically, would you take my name?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Shawn looks satisfied with himself. You have no idea why that mattered. It wasn't like you were actually married. Well you were officiated but, y'know, whatever.

____________________

All hell breaks loose when you and Shawn walk into the central concourse of the airport you've landed at. The screams are deafening and louder than you've ever heard before. Jake tries to keep a minimum distance as you and Shawn make your way to the front doors with Andrew and the rest of the crew in tow.

“What is going on?!” You yell and Shawn falls back to put his arm around you and lean down to hear you. “I said what's going on?”

“No clue. People must be just extra excited to see me today.”

“Shawn! Shawn! Is it true?! Have you been in a secret relationship with your assistant for years?!”

Shawn looks over to the well dressed woman who's running alongside the group. She's asking all sorts of questions about you and Shawn. Obviously a reporter.

“Keep going!” Andrew yells over the crowd and comes up close behind you. “Don't answer any questions! Me and Brian will take your bags, just go!”

Shawn passes his suitcase to Brian and you give yours to Andrew. Shawn's hand finds yours and it's sweaty as he pulls you closer to Jake. He's nervous, anxious as his eyes start darting around to what you can only assume to be over a hundred people in the concourse. The two of you were used to crowds, it came with the job, but this was a swarm.

Jake pulls the two of you into a security office with help from some of the local airport security personnel. One moment you're in deafening loudness and the next it's muffled silence. Your ears are ringing and you feel like you've just survived an apocalypse. Shawn's hand is gripping yours so tight his knuckles are white and he's shaking.

“Shawn, hey,” you say softly and he looks down at you.

“Pull the blinds please,” Jake instructs to an officer by the door. She turns and pulls the blinds on the two floor to ceiling windows looking out to the hoard.

You sit Shawn down in a rolling chair behind a desk covered in paperwork. “Hey, look at me bud.”

The two officers and Jake move to the farthest corner from the two of you and talk among each other about how to clear up the situation outside the door.

Shawn looks at you and you run your hand over his hair. “Sorry, I just got overwhelmed.”

“It's cool. You know you just have to tell me and we'll fix it.”

“That woman knew. She knew about us.”

Us. As if there was really something going on between the two of you.

“She doesn't know anything. People have speculated for years about us. She probably just saw us talking when we got through the gate.” You scratch his scalp gently as he leans his forehead against your stomach. “Relax, deep breaths. Wanna do a vocal warm up to let it out?”

“No, it's fine. I just want to get to the hotel as soon as possible.”

“Jake,” you look over and he looks at you. “What's the plan to get out of here?”

“Security is going to escort us out. They've got more people coming down here to help. Just a few minutes. I've let Andrew know we're alright.”

“Thank you.”

Shawn stands up and pulls you into a hug. He presses his nose into the top of your hair and sighs. “Sorry I keep making today so stressful for you.”

“No, Shawn, it's not your fault.” You rub up his back and down again. “Things happen. We'll be okay. We always are.”

_____________________

Turns out the news has broken and the world knows that you and Shawn allegedly got married. TMZ was first to announce so you're sure that the Elvis impersonator spilled his guts for a couple hundred dollars. That son of a bitch. As if Shawn wasn't already having a hell of a time with stress on tour, this had to happen.

You don't even want to go out of the hotel now. The comments on every social media platform are enough to make you want to peel your skin off. There's two types of people it seems. Ones that think you're amazing and ones that hate your guts. For the most part it's people hating you.

“We're going to get dinner, are you coming?” Shawn asks, poking his head into your room.

“I'm gonna stay in. I don't want to go out.”

“Is it because of the gossip?”

“Yeah. I'm tired of being called ugly, fat and worthless. Why give people more fodder to keep the fire burning?”

Shawn steps in and closes the door behind him. “Why are you reading that crap?��

“I can't avoid it. Everywhere I go it's all people are talking about.” You flip through your Twitter feed and hold it up for Shawn. “Oh this is my favorite, gold digging whore.”

Shawn stalks across the room and snatches the phone from your hand. He throws it into your suitcase and squats down in front of you. “They're jealous. Angry jealous people who have no idea who you are.” He takes your hands and kisses over your knuckles. “They have no idea how beautiful and smart and funny you are.”

“Shawn...you're just saying that.”

“I'm not.” He looks at you over your hands. “I'm honored to call you my wife, real or fake, it's an honor. Any man who marries you is lucky.”

Tears sting the corners of your eyes and you look down, lip trembling.

“Let's stay in. We can rent a movie on the TV and order something to be delivered.”

“No, you go with the guys.” You pull one hand out of his and wipe your wet cheeks. “I'm fine.”

“I won't go.” He stands and crawls on to the bed, sitting behind you and dragging you between his legs. “I'd rather spend my night with you then watch Brian try to pick up the bartender for three hours straight.”

"Can we get Chinese?"

"Of course." Shawn pulls his phone out and scrolls through Google to find a local place to deliver. "You want your usual?"

"Yeah. Extra dumplings if they have them."

He brings the phone up to his ear and smiles. "Anything you want."

____________________

Two days later. Heading to the venue where Shawn is playing isn't usually a stressful thing. You've done it countless times. But you've never done it with everyone thinking you're his wife. The back of the transit van is silent, uncomfortably so. Shawn is on his phone, Andrew and Brian are staring out the windows and Connor is messing with something on his camera.

You hold your bag tight against your lap and sigh. Shawn opens his his legs and bumps your thigh. You look up and he's smiling. “What are you doing?”

“Can you hand me my notebook?”

“Yeah sure.” You dig around in your little black backpack and produce his tattered leather bound journal. It's his writing notebook and if anyone besides you ever had it he would probably explode. “Got an idea?”

“Yeah, just something that's stuck in my head.” He takes it and slides the little pen out from the side and starts writing. He looks so focused as he scribbles away, striking things out and looking annoyed. His brain never stopped.

“Hey.”

You look away from Shawn to Connor who is across from the two of you and has his camera up right. “Yeah? Need something?”

“No, nevermind.”

“We're here,” Andrew says as the van comes to a halt.

Shawn closes the notebook and hands it over. “Are you nervous?”

“Are you?”

“Yeah but I have you, so it'll be okay.” He grabs your hand and squeezes. “Everyone ready?”

Everyone mumbles in unison and Jake pulls open the side door to the sound of fans yelling beyond the barriers a few yards away. No questions. No photos. Just straight into the venue.

The second you're inside the venue there are coordinators ushering you to the question and answer area that's set up in a meeting room. Usually sound check would come first but you had arrived a little later than planned due to traffic and now everything was off schedule.

Shawn goes out and the fans in the q&a scream and greet him. You take a seat behind curtain that is put up as a backdrop in the front area where Shawn sits. You open up your laptop and start working on the checklist for the show tonight while also looking up local gyms for Shawn while he's in town.

Twenty minutes pass and you hear Shawn say your name. You pull out your headphones and listen to what he's saying, wondering what the question was. He just wants a bottle of water and you grab one off a cart nearby.

You don't think anything of it when you walk out in front of everyone to hand him his water. You've done it a hundred times. You don't realize that you've really messed up until the fans are awwing and suddenly asking questions over each other.

“Did you guys get married for real?”

“How long have you been together?”

“Are you really his assistant?”

Shawn sighs and you can see Jake who is off to the side next to you just shake his head. “I'm sorry, I didn't even think about it when I asked for water.”

“It's fine. Just act like everything is normal.” You grab his empty bottle and he pops open the top of the new one. “And don't answer any questions about me.”

“I promise I won't.”

You turn and walk away, giving a little wave to the fans as you go around the back again to take your place at your laptop on an amp box.

____________________

The next night you, Shawn and a couple of the guys go out to a bar near the hotel. It's a really upscale place, private too. It's nice being able to relax and just let loose the stress from the last few days and not have anyone recognize you for a few hours.

Drinks are flowing, music is playing, you are dancing with a couple people. It feels good. Someone's hands find your waist from behind and they pull you against their solid warm body. You stiffen up, not comfortable with the sudden contact.

“You smell really good.” Shawn murmurs against your hair. “Like really good.”

You relax, trusting him and no longer worrying about it being some stranger making a move. “I just washed my hair with my usual stuff.” You turn in his hold to face him and he drops his forehead against yours. His eyes are focused on you, a little glassy from alcohol and you wonder how many drinks he's had.

“You are so beautiful.” He smiles and closes his eyes. “You just...wow.”

“Shawn, you've had way too much.” You reach up and play with the curls at the back of his neck. You've had a few yourself. “I thought you weren't going to drink much because your next show is in three days.”

“I'll be fine.”

“It's not like you.”

“I just wanted to relax.” He leads you over to a lounge area with some couches and falls back on his ass, pulling you down on top of him.

You sit on his lap and he smiles at you like a cat who caught a canary. “What are you grinning about?”

“You.” He runs his hand up your back and you loop your arm around the back of his neck. “I wanna kiss you.” He leans up so he's face to face with you. “I want to kiss you all over.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to kiss my wife.” He grins.

You roll your eyes. “I'm not your wife doofus.”

He leans in closer and bumps his nose with yours, breath ghosting over your lips. You're too drunk to handle this right now. Everything in you wants him and it's so hard to say no. You've kissed before but it wasn't like this, well, it was. You were drunk then too but it wasn't in public and with speculation of being married hanging in the air.

“This is a bad idea,” you whisper, eyes going to his pink lips and he shakes his head slightly. “Yes it is.”

“Stop talking.” He leans in and kisses you, hands going to your hair as he licks into your mouth. You take a deep breath and re-position yourself so you're straddling his thighs. He drops one hand to your waist and you feel like you just can't get enough. You can't seem to break away from him as he kisses you better than anyone you've ever been with. You know the two of you will end up going back to the hotel together, there was absolutely no doubt about that at this point. It's just a matter of how far this was going to go.

____________________

The next morning you wake up and it's like deja vu. Shawn's arm is across your stomach and your head hurts. Only this time you remember the night before. You remember walking with Shawn back to the hotel and making out in the elevator. Fumbling with his key card to get his room open. And then watching him literally collapse on the bed and pass out. You knew he'd had way too much.

“Morning,” you says softly, running your hand through his hair. He rubs his face into his pillow and groans at the morning light. “Hungover?”

“Very. My head is throbbing.”

“Let me help.” You sit up and guide him to lay his head on a pillow you pull over onto your lap. You massage your fingers into his temples and he groans softly.

“You're the best.”

“Mmhmm.” You massage over his eyes and cheeks and he just let's his jaw go slack. He's so soft like this, trusting in you completely. The last few days have been a wild ride and gone farther than your professional relationship with him should go. It's like since finding out you got hitched by the Elvis impersonator, all inhibitions were gone. The line between coworker and relationship was getting blurrier by the second and you have to redraw it before it is too late.

“You're a really good kisser.” Shawn mumbles, smiling to himself.

“So you remember some of last night?”

“Mmm yeah.” He opens his eyes and you stop rubbing his temples. “You can't deny that there's something more between us.”

“I can't, but there shouldn't be.” You return to rubbing and go down around the back of his neck eliciting a soft moan from him. “I'm your assistant first and foremost. We need to remember that.”

“Yeah.” He says softly, closing his eyes again. You know he isn't going to cave that easily. It's not like him to drop a subject just like that but you know he doesn't want to argue or anything with his head killing him. And that's just fine.

____________________

Shawn wraps his arms around you from behind and walks with his head on your shoulder. "What're you going to get?"

"I don't know, we came for you to get stuff."

"Yeah, but...I know you want something."

The two of you round the corner to the health care isle in the little 24 hour convenience store. The two of you had come down for snacks after Shawn said he needed some jerky and a Snickers. The funny thing is that those two things were your usual period cravings, and you happen to be on your period.

"Shawn, did you want to come here because of me?"

"What do you mean?" He pulls away and grabs a box of Tylenol off the shelf to toss into the bag you're carrying.

"Come on. Snickers and jerky? That's my craving snack."

Shawn grins sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck. "Am I that obvious?"

You roll your eyes. "You're transparent."

He walks over and puts his arm around your shoulders. "I just wanted to help. I saw you were having bad cramps earlier during rehearsal."

"Is that why you brought me tea from the catering cart?"

"Yeah."

You lean your head on his chest. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He kisses your head. "Lets get those snacks and head back."

____________________

“You're still wearing the ring,” Shawn says, pointing to your hand curled around the clipboard you're holding. The second show this week is about to start and he's getting his in ears put in.

“So?”

“So? Why didn't you take it off? It's been like five days.”

You shrug and touch the little rose gold band. “It's pretty. I guess I didn't notice.” You point at his hand and he has one of his gold bands around his ring finger still too. “What's your excuse?”

Shawn shrugs. “I guess I didn't notice.”

You narrow your eyes at him and he grins. “Maybe you want to be married to me.”

“Maybe you do too.”

“In your dreams.”

“I've had a lot of dreams come true y'know.” Shawn laughs and goes to the side stage to get ready to go on. You follow him over and touch his arm gently. “Hmm?”

“I forgot to tell you to have a good show.”

He leans over and kisses your cheek, making your heart race. “Always do.”

“Pinkies for luck?”

Shawn hooks his pinky with yours and the rings click together, making him grin. You pull away and run your hand over his hair to fluff it up as the band starts playing his intro. He keeps smiling at you and walks out on to stage, bringing his mic up to greet everyone in the arena. You twist the ring around on your finger and it sends an ache through your chest. Why hadn't you taken it off?

____________________

The show is going great and you are beaming at him the whole time. He keeps doing this thing where he looks over at you and you try to keep out of view so people don't know what he's looking at. Connor asks if you'll follow him during Bad Reputation because he doesn't want to hit anything while he watches the camera screen. You've done it several times and you know all you have to do is literally walk behind him and tell him if he's going to hit an amp or something.

Zubin and Shawn are going to town on the guitar when it happens. You're following Connor but he's walking too quick, your eyes are on Shawn as he does a little grabby hand wave at you and you trip on a set of cables sticking out off the light box at the base of the stage. You go sprawling, scraping your knees on the hard concrete floor of the arena.

“Fucking shit!” you yell as you turn over and dust yourself off. Your jeans are torn in the knees and there's blood starting to stain on the left one.

Suddenly Shawn is by your side, guitar on his back as he kneels down beside you. “Are you okay? I saw you go down behind Connor.”

“What're you doing!? Get back up there!”

“It's fine Zubin is doing his thing.” Shawn puts an arm behind your back and the other under knees, lifting you up bridal style. “Ah shit your knee is bleeding.”

“Put me down. I'm fine.”

“No you're not! Look at your knee!”

You glance down and yeah your jeans were pretty much destroyed by the big bloody patch. It was starting to ache too, a dull throb right over your knee cap. “You're really not helping with the rumors right now y'know.”

“I really don't care.” Shawn places you gently on an equipment box backstage as Jake and one of the stage hands come over with a first aid kit.

“I'll be fine. Go back out there.” He starts to protest and you grab his face and force him to look at you. “Leave me and go do the show.”

Shawn leans in and kisses your lips quickly before turning and running back out on stage. Your heart stops and you are left in a stunned state, just gawking off at the stage. Did he really just kiss you? What the hell? He...you weren't...fuck.

“Hey, hello!” The stage hand, Nick, waves his hand in your face. “I can't clean it with your jeans on. Can we go to the catering room or something and have you take them off?”

“Yeah....yeah sure.” You bring your focus back to your knee and as you try to stand up on it, you wobble. Nick supports you as you head for the inner concourse and Jake stays behind.

“I'll tell him where you are when he gets done, don't worry,” Jake says with a smile. You know he seen the kiss, hell, anyone in the vicinity saw it. Shawn was not making this easy.

As soon as the show ends Shawn is in the catering room with you. He's pretty sweaty when he comes in but you don't really care because he's got eyes for no one but you. He kneels down beside you and cradles your knee in his big hands, fingers ghosting over the gauze wrapped skin.

“You had to cut your jeans?” He asks, sliding his hand over your thigh where your jeans are cut off just over the wound.

“Yeah. I couldn't get my jeans off and they were already ruined.”

“Let me carry you to the car.”

“Shawn I can walk. It's not that bad now.”

He gives you a hard look. “You're hurt.”

“It's just a scraped knee.”

“Please, let me carry you. You're my w- it's my fault. If you hadn't been watching me wave at you, you wouldn't have tripped.”

You sigh, defeated. “I'm not going to change your mind am I?”

“Nope.” Shawn gets up and picks you up bridal style again, holding you close to his chest. You can smell his shampoo from his damp hair, curls falling in his face. “Let's go, I'll have one of the guys bring my stuff.”

“I need my bag.”

Shawn leans down and you grab your backpack off the couch you were sitting on. With that he carries you alongside Jake as he heads for the cars out back.

The second you get to the doors you see a bunch of fans waiting around to hopefully get a picture with Shawn beyond the security fence. The fans start screaming as soon as he walks out in the open carrying you toward the car. They’re waving and calling out both of your names as camera flashes go off.

“You can go ahead and take pictures.” You say to Shawn and he shakes his head. “Seriously, just drop me off in the car. I'll wait.”

“No. I want to go back to the hotel and shower and relax with you. Besides they've got their pictures.” He grins.

“Shawn.” You touch his cheek and he leans into your hand. “Please. I know you want to go say hi.”

“I do, but I really want to relax too.” Jake opens the door for Shawn and he lowers you to your feet and helps you into the car. “And relaxing comes first today.”

____________________

“Hey, are you feeling up to going out?”

You raise your eyebrows and he smiles sheepishly, knowing that you're not supposed to be seen together alone until the whole marriage thing blows over, but you're still his friend and assistant and honestly that concept of hiding it had gone out the window days ago. “Like...where?”

“Ed's in town. He texted me and asked if I want to hang out and see the show tonight.”

“Sure. Anyone else going?”

“I think Brian is gonna go.”

“What time?”

“Around seven.”

“I'll see you then.”

The concert is loud as hell, just like Shawn's are. You're stood in a private section with a few other people from Ed's crew and it's just you and Shawn. Brian didn't ever show up, and honestly you think Shawn didn't actually invite him.

Nearly forty minutes pass and Ed ends castle on the hill and starts up the chords to Perfect, his final song on the set list. Shawn wraps his arms around you from behind and you look up at him.

“I found a love, for me...” Shawn sings along softly with Ed.

“You planned this didn't you?”

“Planned what?”

“Being here together and without Brian. This is a date, isn't it?”

Shawn rolls his eyes. “A date? Really? We're just seeing Ed.”

“A concert can be a date y'know.”

“Shh.” Shawn lays his chin on your head and starts humming along to the song. The arena is dark and everyone has their phones out, swaying along to the song. It's beautiful. “Dancing in the dark, with you between my arms.” He sings softly against your head and you hold onto his arms now wrapped around your shoulders.

You take his hand and he turns you around, stepping back and grinning at you. He keeps singing as he slow dances with you, swinging you out and bringing you close in time with the music. “You're ridiculous,” you laugh and he just holds you against him.

“You love it,” he says quietly, turning you around once more and pulls you back against his chest. “And you look perfect...tonight.”

The song comes to an end and you hold Shawn's hands in yours. He kisses the side of your head and you're absolutely gone for him. He's knows it. You know it. The whole damn world probably knows it by now. ____________________

“Where's my notebook?”

“In the suitcase.” You point to his bulky black bag. “Outer pocket.”

Shawn digs into the bag and brings it out, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and writing furiously. You learned ages ago not to bother asking what was in that little journal. You know usually it's lyrics or little bits or inspiration. You never read it, no matter how many times he has you carry it in your bag, you never ever open that book.

“We've got to get going Shawn. Can you write in the car?”

“No.”

You drag his bag off the bed and over to the door. Yours is already there waiting, you had brought it over to save you from grabbing it later after helping Shawn get everything together.

“The plane won't wait.”

Shawn looks up and rolls his eyes. “Just a moment.”

“Alright.” You lean against the door and close your eyes. You're exhausted, the concert with Ed had ended up going until around nine and then visiting lasted until well after midnight. Every time Shawn and Ed got together it was like a recording session. The two were definitely of the same bunch. Now you had a six hour flight to get on back to Toronto.

“I’m ready.” Shawn whispers in your ear and your eyes fly open and you jump, making him laugh. “Let's go home.”

You swat at his chest and he grabs his bag handle. “You're such a turd.”

“I just like teasing you. Come on.”

The two of you head down to the lobby to meet Andrew and Brian and the rest of the crew. “So, what're you writing in that book?”

“Curious?”

“Well yeah, that's why I'm asking. I know usually you don't tell anyone. You've just seemed very engrossed in it lately.”

“I've been writing lyrics. I want to meet up with Teddy and see if we can't get something together. I've just...got this feeling and I want to put it into words.”

You round the corner to the lobby and Andrew looks up from his phone. “About time you two.”

“Leave the love birds alone, don't you know, they're newlyweds.” Brian teases, dragging his suitcase around behind the two of you toward the doors.

“Fuck off Brian!” Shawn yells and you elbow him for yelling in the lobby.

The rest of the trip home goes smoothly, you sleep on the plane with Shawn leaning against you and it's possibly the best sleep you've had in a few days. Landing back in Toronto is a bit annoying, as fans have come to meet you and Shawn at the airport like usual. Only now they're rowdier than ever due to the news about your alleged marriage.

"Don't pay attention to any of it." Shawn says, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and staring down at your phone. You've just arrived at his apartment and you'll be leaving tomorrow to go to your own place in New York. "We'll just lay low and then in a few weeks it'll all be over."

"Yeah I guess. How exactly do we convince fans we aren't hitched?"

"Probably should take off the rings."

You pocket your phone and hold your hand out in front of you. Honestly you've grown accustomed to the little ring on your finger. It fits so comfortably.

“Maybe being married isn't such a bad thing.”

You look up from your hand to where Shawn is now across the bedroom lying on the bed on his stomach. “What?”

“I mean, aren't we already kind of married?”

“No?”

“Think about it. You know more about me than anyone. You can read me like an open book. We're always together, I trust you more than anyone and we definitely have chemistry. We have such a connection, it's insane. Maybe it's not such a bad idea.”

You close your eyes and sigh softly. “You cannot be serious. We can't be married. We just can't. I'm your assistant, not your wife.”

“Technically you're both right now.”

“Shawn. It wasn't a legal binding ceremony.”

He gets up and walks over to you, taking your hands in his. “Come on. You'd get so many benefits as my wife. You could come to awards shows with me, walk red carpets, be on my health care plan. I can also avoid the “when are you going to have a girlfriend?” conversations. I really don't see any downsides.”

“Really? No downsides? What about dating? What about falling in love and wanting to marry someone for real? I can do pretty much all that other stuff as your assistant if you want me to. None of it has to do with me being your wife or not. And why don't you have a girlfriend? You're like the most eligible bachelor in history. Rich, gorgeous, young and talented. What's the deal?”

“You know why I don't. Besides I don't want to marry someone else.”

“What? Are you kidding me? Why the hell would you want to marry me in the first place? And on that note, no, I don't know why you don't have a girlfriend, besides being on tour and stuff.”

“You really don't get it do you?”

“For the love of God, why can't you stop talking in riddles for like five minutes?”

“It’s because I'm in love with you.”

Your heart stops. He doesn't mean it like that. He can't. He isn't allowed to. No. He can't. You didn't want to hear those actual words, it made it all too real.

“Shawn, I think you really need to think about that. You can't just say that lightly.”

“I have thought about it.” He walks you over to the couch just past the doorway into the living room. “It's all I think about all the time. I've wanted to tell you for the last three years but how do you tell your assistant that sort of thing? And I wanted to be sure you felt the same, or you at least had an interest in me. You're hard to read though. I could never figure out what you were thinking until this last year, hell, the last few weeks when I realized you've been holding back.”

“Shawn... I-I don't know.”

He takes your hand and threads his fingers between yours. “Don't hold back. Do you want to be with me?”

“I mean, yeah, of course. More than anything Shawn, but...we can't.”

“We can. We absolutely can.”

"But my job and the fans...it's a lot to handle."

"And yet we've been doing it for the last week basically."

“I...I should go.” You pull your hand away and stand. You grab your bag and head for the door. There isn't really anywhere to go besides your place. The second you get out the front doors you call a cab. It wasn't as if you didn't feel the same way about him, because you did. It's just...it would never work. If you mixed your job with your relationship it could end badly. That's what you've been telling yourself anyway. There's a line, a very clear line, and you can't bring yourself to cross it...though you've definitely been bending over it a bit. Well, maybe a lot.

____________________

The sun is just starting to set as you take your seat on a plane flying to New York. You're alone, carry-on bag in the compartment over your seat. You called and talked to Andrew about what happened. He was fine with it, in fact he'd rather Shawn be with you then deal with bringing a whole new person into the picture, but you still don't think it's for the best. Four years, four long amazing years and just like that you find yourself out of a job and heading back to your hometown.

You didn't say goodbye to Shawn. You couldn't. The next time you see him will be...well, no, you don't know when that might be. You lean your head back and fight the tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. You want to stay, you do, but you can't hurt Shawn if things go bad or just don't work out. The stress and tension that would put on your professional relationship would be too much. You won't break his heart, you just won't.

You put on your headphones, lean your head back and put on a sleep mask. If you just tuned it out you would be fine. Minutes pass and you feel the plane start to move, taxiing to the runway for take off. You feel your nerves getting the best of you, hand curled around the end of the arm rest. You never flew alone, you always flew with Shawn.

A hand covers yours and you jump, jerking away. You pull your sleep mask off to see who the hell thought it was okay to touch you. Your heart drops when you see Shawn in the seat beside you.

“What the hell are you doing?” He asks, irritation evident in his voice.

“I'm going home.”

“You're running away.”

“I'm not. It's for the best.”

“The best for who?.”

You look away and clench your jaw. “You don't get it Shawn.”

He reaches over and turns your head to look at him. “No, you don't get it. You are running away because you're scared. You're scared to admit that we have something special because you're afraid it won't work out. But let me tell you what, you've seen me at my worst and my best and I've seen you in both lights as well. I think you know just as well as I do that we're meant to be together.”

“But what if it doesn't work out?”

“And what if it does? You can't try and take the safe route every time. There is nothing about our relationship that says it won't work. Please, do you know how hard it was to be told that you quit all of a sudden? That after spending a good part of four years together, you were just going to walk out of my life? Do you know how bad that hurt?”

“I just thought it'd be easier. I didn't want to hurt you.”

Shawn pushes up the arm rest and scoots closer to you. “Nothing is going to be easy. It never is.” He grabs your hand and threads his fingers between yours. “Please don't leave. You're my best friend. You don't want to hurt me but this, leaving, is going to kill me.”

“How'd you find me?"

"You always fly Delta when you go home. I just checked for a flight to New York and got a ticket. It doesn't matter."

You sigh and lean your head on his shoulder. "You really want to do this?"

"Yes. And we don't have to be married, we can just date. I just want you in my life, please."

"I want you in mine too." You hold his face and he tilts your head up to kiss you gently. "I suppose we're just a little backwards on all this, getting married and then dating."

"I guess this is where we start then."

You smile and he kisses you again, and again and again.

_____________________

Three months later

"Babe, did you get the email from Teddy about the song?" Shawn asks as he pulls on a suit jacket.

You glance over at his stylist who's holding up two shirts to the jacket. Shawn is standing there with his arms out like a dork while she works her magic. "I haven't gotten any emails from her. I have one from Connor though?"

"What's Connor sent? It must be a big file if he can't text it."

"Let me open it." You click the link and it opens a video in the media player on your laptop. The playback opens with you sitting on Shawn's shoulders at capital summertime ball, the moment Shawn had on his lock screen photo. From there it cuts to you and Shawn backstage playing slaps before a show and him squealing every time you faked him out. Then it's the two of you sharing a strawberry shake from McDonald's. You remember that day, he said he didn't want anything and ended up stealing half of your order.

"What is it?" Shawn asks, sliding off the suit jacket and walking over to lean on the back of the couch.

On the screen you and Shawn pose like goofballs in his new merch for the tour. The two of you sleeping on a couch backstage at some event. Shawn putting his jacket over your shoulders during a late night video shoot. Then there is recently, the two of you in the back of the car when he asked for his notebook. You can see that Shawn is stealing glances as he writes, something you hadn't noticed at the time. There's footage of Shawn at the concert jumping off stage to pick you up after you tripped. And finally, the last little bit is when the two of you were boarding the plane home and you grab Shawn's hand as you walk through the boarding tunnel.

"Wow..." You laugh softly, covering your mouth. "We're so transparent."

"Connor...he really did that." Shawn leans over and kisses your cheek. "I guess everyone knew we were together before we did."

"Yeah. Obviously."

"I'm going to have Teddy send you a copy of the new song." He turns back to his stylist and she holds out his shirt she's chosen. "I want you to listen to it tonight and tell me what you think."

"This is the song you've been keeping top secret for the last month?"

He grins sheepishly. "Yes, I promise it's worth it."

"Your songs are always worth it. I'm pretty sure you've never written a bad song."

"You're so sweet."

"Only to you."

_____________________

Shawn goes out to sit at some awards show and you stay behind in the green room. You've had enough with award shows in the last few years. They're usually too loud and full of cringey dialogue. You put in your head phones and press play on the file that Teddy sent to you. She didn't send any explanation other than a little winking smiley face and honestly you're suspicious. Shawn has never kept a song from you before.

"Put my heart on the line so many times, but when I'm with you I know I'll be fine. I'm falling, falling in love with you. Can't stop this feeling I know it's true."

Your eyes go wide as you realize this song is definitely about you. "Oh my God. Shawn..." You laugh to yourself as you begin to tear up. It's catchy and touching and...how dare he.

You finish the song and go to find him out in the crowded ballroom. You make your way through the room full of people and find his spot empty near the front next to Ed and his wife.

"Where is Shawn?" You ask Ed and he points toward the doors you came through saying he got up a few minutes ago.

You turn and double back to see if he's in the bathroom but there is absolutely no one in the halls.

"Honey, what're you doing?" Shawn laughs, and you turn to see him walking out of the green room. "I thought you wanted to chill in the back, I came to see how you were doing."

You walk up to him and he puts his arms around you. "You wrote a song about me."

"Yes I did."

"Everyone is going to know."

Shawn grins and runs his hand up your back. "Yes they will."

"A song!"

"Yes. You inspire me, I couldn't not write something about how I've felt for ages. Teddy helped me make it into something amazing. I'm really excited to release it."

You lay your hand on his cheek and he leans into it. "You're lucky I love you."

He kisses you softly and smiles. "What're you doing later?"

"Going to the after party with you?"

"Yeah, well I heard there's a wedding going on here tomorrow. Maybe the officiator will be around."

"Shawn."

"Maybe I should make you a legal Canadian citizen this time around." He grins and you narrow your eyes at him. "What do you think?"

"I think you're soft."

He slides his hand into yours and brings it up to kiss your joined hands. "It's been almost three and a half months and you haven't taken off my ring."

You flush and look away. "Yeah well...it's nice."

"Mmhmm."

"Okay, yeah...I want to be more than your girlfriend." You smile and look up at him. "I've wanted it for ages, but isn't it a little fast?"

"I don't think building up to this for three years is fast."

"You're right...I've just been thinking about it as the last few months but it has been years hasn't it?" You chuckle and shake your head. "Are you proposing to me then?"

"Yes." He drops down on one knee and reaches into his jacket pocket. "Will you be my wife, my assistant and my best friend?"

"You...have a ring on you?"

"Yeah I...I got it a while back." He looks at the ring and up at you. "I've just been carrying it around and waiting for the right moment to give it to you."

"You're such a sap."

"Yeah but, you already knew that. So, tell me, will you be my everything?"

You slide off Shawn's ring and pick up the ring from its box and slide it over your ring finger. "Yes. Yes I will."

Shawn stands and cups your face, kissing you softly. "I love you."

"I love you too."

The end.

__________________

Thank you so much for reading! Please reblog if you read and if you enjoyed it.

Shout out to @shawnm521 for help and inspiration with this one, you are seriously the ultimate muse and I couldn’t be more grateful.

Please let me know what you think, what your favorite parts are and more via ask, reblog, reply or message. Thank you again!

-A

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