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cambria-writes · 1 year

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good day! been a little while since i updated this one too. honestly it's just because i forgot; the chapter was written and everything lol. the one after this is still in the work though, so that... might take a little bit. it starts to get spicy so i'm trying by best to not be a cowardly little ace and just get in there.

word count: 2,722 rating: M warning: people are shirtless and pantless/trouserless, mention of a panic attack, age gap but left up to interpretation, getting cockblocked by a phone call, swearing, so scarcely proofread it might as well be whiteclaw, let me know if there's anything else!

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𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕾𝖎𝖝𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓: 𝔏𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫 𝔚𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔯

Waking up is a slow process.

The first thing you notice is that the pillow is softer than what you normally have at home. Your face is half engulfed in it in the best of ways. Like your head is cradled by a temperature controlled cloud.

The second thing that you notice is that, though the air should still be cool from early morning, half of you is warm. Almost too hot to bear; you can feel sweat beading on your collarbone.

The third thing that registers is that you’re very much not wearing your own clothes. It feels different, and definitely isn’t a dress, or whatever oversized shirt you’d otherwise be wearing to bed. And everything smells different. In a pleasant way your brain is still trying to make sense of.

You crack open an eye to look at what you think is the nearest window and take a second. Patrick Jane’s face is mockingly close. And you’re well on your way to being half on top of him; one arm holding onto his left shoulder and your right leg thrown over his left thigh. It wouldn’t even have been that bad, really, if his hand wasn’t also on your thigh.

Not entirely the development you expected after getting entirely too-violent flashes of someone else’s traumatic experiences. But also, unfortunately, not the strangest thing that’s happened to you in recent history.

You’re halfway back to sleep–there’s no way you’re going to stay awake to chance a conversation about all of this when you still have a raging headache–when you feel the hand on your thigh give the slightest of squeezes. Well fuck.

“There’s Tylenol and water on the chair,” Jane says quietly. His eyes stay closed. For all anyone could tell he still looks like he’s asleep.

You make a sound between a grunt and scoff. Pull your arm and leg away and turn around in bed like it’s no big deal. There is, in fact, a metal water bottle and two Tylenol on the chair Jane had pulled up the night before. You pop the pills in your mouth, unscrew the bottle and–

“Oh my fucking god,” you say, approximately, around a mouthful of lemon water and pain killers. Swallowing is almost painful and you can’t help but gag as the pills go down entirely wrong. Immediately try to flush them down further with more water and sputter and cough once you swallow. “Lemon? God, do you hate me?”

“You mixed your drinks last night. You’re dehydrated.” Jane takes a deep breath, almost a yawn, and runs a hand through his hair. His eyes are still closed. “You’re dehydrated,” he repeats patiently. “You might hate it but it’ll help. Drink.”

Throw your legs over the side of the bed and eye the bottle in your hands with utmost contempt. There’s no sugar in there, it’s just straight lemon juice in water. Maybe some salt. You’re pretty sure you felt pulp in there too. You swallow your pride and personal preference with another gulp of citrus water.

“Good gi–”

“No, nuh uh,” you cough and turn around, point a very tired finger at the man next to you. “You don’t get to call me that. Stop that.”

Jane finally opens his eyes, one arm thrown casually over his head and the other resting across his chest. The look on his face could only be described as a shit eating grin.

“Funny, I got the impression you liked that.” You scoff and take another drag from the bottle. “Do you remember what happened last night?”

It takes a second for you to bring the bottle back down from your lips. Yes, actually, despite how apparently very drunk you were, you remember everything very clearly. A little bit too clearly.

“You’re going to have to be a lot more specific than that,” you reply slowly, bringing your legs back up to sit cross-legged on the bed. You stare at the wall in front of you; get the feeling that looking Jane in the face is going to make you lose whatever little nerve you still have left.

“The panic attack,” Jane says simply. “Can you tell me what caused it?”

“You wouldn’t believe me,” you mutter, fidgeting with the near-empty bottle before screwing the cap back on. “It’s not the kind of thing you’d take seriously.”

This is when Jane slides himself up the bed to rest against the headboard. Reaches out to brush hair behind your ear to see your face.

“You wouldn’t lie to me. And with what you’ve been seeing and doing lately...”

It’s rare that he trails off like that, but you still resist the urge to turn and look at him. Take a deep, measured breath, and lean over the side of the bed to put the water bottle down on the floor.

“When I touched your hand when I was on the couch, I... It’s like I saw what you did. Back then. When you came home to...” It’s your turn to trail off. Wring your hands in your lap and screw your eyes shut. “I remember what the note said–the one on the door. I remember the lamp, how they were–how he displayed them. I panicked cause I thought, I mean, it’s crazy, right? Like, I have to have heard about this in the news, right? Or something? I’ve never experienced that before. So I just kind of...”

“Panicked,” Jane finishes, and you don’t like his tone. You can’t pinpoint what, exactly, it carries, but none of the options available sound good. Pain? Anger? Disbelief? Offense? Christ, this is so messed up.

“Yeah. I panicked. And then I tried to see if I could, like. See more? And I saw you driving up here. Jane, I saw the fucking mail in your hands. I could tell you which bills had come in.” When your breathing starts to speed up again, you feel a warm hand at the back of your neck. Makes you flinch, at first, but you lean your head back into it.

“Okay,” Jane says after a while, digging his fingers into the muscles around your spine to try and loosen them up. “Alright. What was in the mail?”

You scoff and open your eyes to blink away tears.

“One of them was the license renewal for your car. There was a phone bill in there too, and a notice from one of the private schools you’d looked into. And something from a relative, I think,” you list, trying to remember the return addresses you saw. “And a letter from Europe. I remember there were like, twenty stamps on it.”

Jane releases a rushed exhale. Like he genuinely can’t believe what you’ve said. Neither can you, honestly; it feels like it’s all just a big, surreal joke. Like someone’s going to bust through the guest bedroom door–which was left blessedly open–and say that you were actually hypnotized and that everything you think you saw was just a production of suggestion.

No one runs into the room. Jane scoot closer to you. The hand at the back of the neck moves to your shoulder.

“Skye. Look at me, please.” You keep your head tilted towards the ceiling and refuse to look down. “I’m not mad, I promise. Please just look at me.”

Though you don’t bring your head back down, you do tilt it to the side just enough to see his face. The calm smile on Jane’s face makes you want to scream. Turn the other way and wrap your arms around yourself.

“This is so fucked, I’m so sorry. Can we forget any of this happened? God, this is so fucked, this is so fucked.” You bite your lip and rock back and forth. This is absolutely another panic attack, god dammit. Try your best to keep your breathing steady.

When Jane tries to pry the arm closest to him away from your body, you put up a very cursory fight against it. Eventually, he just firmly takes a hold of your arm, puts a hand to the back of your neck again, and pulls you into him. It takes a few laboured breaths before you completely lose it. Grossly sobbing was not how you planned on spending your morning.

None of this is, actually, how you planned on spending any morning. But here you are.

Jane pets the back of your head and whispers things in your ear; you can’t hear much beyond the sound of your own sobbing and the blood flow roaring in your head. You vaguely, distantly realize that he’s not wearing a shirt when you ball your fists against his chest.

“That’s it, just keep breathing,” he says, eventually, a little bit louder, once you’ve been able to stop crying and at least try to breathe right. Feels like there are starbursts in your eyes. “You’ve been through a lot. This doesn’t help.” Puts his hands on your shoulders to pull you away just enough to look at you. “Have you talked to anyone at all?”

Shake your head and clear your throat. “N-no I–who would I have–no one would’ve understood. Who the fuck would I have talked to about any of it?” You try your best at a derisive laugh, but it sounds more like a sob. Before you can, Jane brings his hands up to your face to swipe at your tears with his thumbs.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked you how you were doing,” he apologizes, frowning and pulling you back into his chest. “I should have checked in.”

Shake your head against him and sigh. “Not like anyone knew what was going to happen to me.”

“No, you’re right, which is exactly why someone should’ve stuck around to make sure you were alright.”

You don’t have anything to say to that. He’s not wrong. But, christ, how were you supposed to afford therapy in the first place? And even if you could, how were you supposed to explain to anyone what happened to you without having them wholesale minimize everything at best, and dismiss your experiences at worst? Even Jane probably only sideways believes you just because he was there for like, most of it. You honestly don’t think you could get some PhD having suit-and-tie asshole believe your wild fucking tales.

“You’re thinking too much,” Jane says, and the low tone he uses makes his chest rumble. You swallow thickly and try very desperately not to think about the states of undress you’re both in. Now is a very bad time to– “You’re still doing it.”

“Sorry.” It comes out almost as a whine. Your hands flatten against Jane’s chest. The feeling of his heart beating under his ribs is oddly... soothing.

He pets the back of your head one more time before disentangling himself and standing up. You feel too cold and a bit too untethered without someone next to you. Jane nudges his head at you and asks you to turn around. You sniffle and give your face one last pass–wipe your eyes on your forearm and your nose on your hand.

Once you’ve turned around, still cross-legged with your hands in front of you, Jane takes his place behind you. And it’s all you can do not to moan when you feel his fingers wrap around your shoulders and his thumbs gently dig into the tension in your neck.

“Holy fuck, how did you know?” You sigh, wincing as your muscles are forced to let go of each other and relax. Jane huffs in laughter and slowly moves up your neck.

“I don’t think anyone would’ve missed the way you carry everything in your shoulders,” he explains, slowing once he gets back down to the collar of your–his–shirt. “Do you mind if I...”

He pulls his hands away when you move, reaching over your head to pull at the shirt. Your heart is thrumming in your chest like a whole swarm of hummingbirds, but it’s whatever. It’s fine. This is fine. Honestly the only thing even remotely making you feel like you’re preserving your modesty is the fact that your bra is still blessedly on.

Jane whispers a quiet “thank you” before his hands return to your back. This time, his fingers maneuver around your shoulder blades and the feeling makes the breath stutter in your throat. It’s absolutely, definitely extremely nice to have someone work on your back after the weeks you’ve had.

“You’re tensing your shoulders. Relax,” Jane asks over your shoulder. The sly bastard has to know that it’s not at all funny to be speaking directly next to your ear like that. And there’s no way he can miss the gooseflesh that covers your entire torso when he does.

But, obediently, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. Your shoulders come down when you exhale, and you try to keep them as loose as possible.

It takes a second, but eventually you hear his say, “Good girl.”

You let out something akin to a frustrated growl and spin around, mouth open to say something. The words die on your tongue when you see the grin on Jane’s face, his hands still raised in front of him. Anyone else would’ve thought he was backing off.

“You kissed me last night,” is what you end up saying instead. “Wait, no, shit, that’s not what I–”

“I did.” Lowers his hands. Back to the calm and impassive face and voice again, god that’s frustrating. This time, though, you can see him clench his jaw.

Okay, that’s new.

“Why?” You can feel your ribs shaking and it’s taking everything you can muster to try and keep your voice steady.

“Because I wanted to.”

“Why?” you ask again, slowly sliding off the bed to stand next to Jane. He’s got one leg on the ground; you bump your knee into it.

For once, Jane is the one who has to look up at you, even if it’s not by much. Bite your lip nervously, and you can’t not notice the way his eyes follow the movement, just for a fraction of a second.

“Because you’re fascinating,” he replies, and the way he looks straight into your eyes makes it feel like you’re suffocating. You can see in your peripheral that he reaches a hand out. You expect to feel his hand in yours, but instead you feel the suggestion of a touch on your left thigh. Right over the graze.

“You’re at least a decade and a half older than me.”

This gives Jane pause. It’s not like it wasn’t obvious there wasn’t a sizeable age gap between you. He’d probably seen your date of birth back at the CBI when you were first there, and you’d definitely done your research on him weeks ago. The hand at your thigh retreats and Jane puts his other leg down, sits a bit straighter.

“If you feel like there’s a power imbalance and like I’m taking advantage of you, we don’t have to–”

“Ohmygod, no! No,” you rush to say, taking a step forward. “God, no, I don’t feel like that at all, Jesus. I’d be in a cab halfway home by now if I did.” Reach across yourself to grab your arm. “I just...”

Jane slowly grabs your arm and pulls it back down. You don’t miss the way his fingers stay at your wrist, over your pulse.

“Do you want me to take you home?” He’s speaking so quietly it’s he’s worried he’ll scare you if he speaks any louder.

“No.”

He waits for a second and hums.

“Tell me what you want, then.” The hand at your wrists pulls you forward. You’re standing between Jane’s legs. Can’t take another step forward.

“I–what I...”

Somewhere, a shrill ringtone goes off. Neither of you move until it rings for the third time, when it’s obvious it isn’t your phone ringing. Jane sighs and it looks almost painful. You step back to let him get up and grab his phone. It stops ringing when he flips it open, but as he’s going through his missed calls, the phone rings again.

“I’ll be right back. Sit,” he instructs, and his tone makes you sit down on the bed immediately.

You can’t hear what Jane says as he walks out of the room.

𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

@fucklife-or-me @newavenger @yearningforsappho @mamacakeishereforfun @nastukee

#honey and the hatchet #the mentalist #patrick jane #patrick jane x reader #reader #patrick jane fic #patrick jane fanfic #patrick jane fanfiction #slow burn #but we're slowly getting to the burn #next chapter should be more spicy #and then the one after that should be uhhhhhhh #v...volatile? explosive? idk whatever you'll see

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britnxyspears · 2 years

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bro what’s ur skin care routine

First of all thank you for this much needed ego boost <3 second dont let the walls of text scare you its actually moderately simple

I try a lot of things, but typically I use the fuck out of these three face washes

The first one is what I use everyday in the shower and scrub tf out of my face with bc it's gentle enough that it doesn't hurt when I do that but it's not like... super light it actually makes me feel clean. I also use it on my armpits for that reason.. the peach one is just super good at getting makeup off I actually just use this one when I wear dark eye makeup and I also scrub the hell out of my skin with a more coarse washcloth when I do use it for makeup removal.

The third one has the consistency of the useless foam handsoap in most public bathrooms and I bought it bc I thought the packaging was cute lol but I actually just use this throughout the day when my skin feels gross like after sweating a lot? It's useless as a main cleanser but it's great as like a pick me up and especially if you work gross jobs. If this existed when I was still cleaning toilets I would have used it on my work break to at least feel like I got the germs off me midday lol.

ANYWAYS the potatoes of my skincare are these

Vanicream is a godsend if you have any type of disorder that makes you dehydrated or fucks w ur skin. I have EDS so my fiance actually bought this for me after resrarching what exactly EDS tends to do to skin. I use it on my face after exfoliating and I use it as a conduit for tea tree oil (three drops for one half pump. Bc putting tea tree oil directly on skin isnt good in the long run) and that's what I wear to bed.

The skin proud ones I got bc they were cute and I wanted something lighter for my eyelid area and they do that fantastic. I use the pink one the most but since it's so fucking hot rn I've been using the blue one which has some sort of menthol in it to keep me cool and from putting sweat right back into my cleared out pores.

My preferred spf no longer is sold so I switched to this one last year... not as good as my former fave but it does make my skin feel very soft and I can put it on my eyelid area without it stinging. You need to rub it in good and it feels a little icky until it dries down but it's not a grease-fest like a lot of spf is. PLEASE DONT SKIP... it's the most expensive thing in my skincare and the one thing you can't just get at Walmart or ulta on here but it is definitely worth it. I live with the highest UV in the usa and it REALLY fucking does its job lol. Also its one of those products that lasts ages me and my fiancé both use it face and décolletage and we got it last year sane bottle.

So in step form I shower at night and scrub my skin with some kind of exfoliating cloth with the pineapple enzyme... (or the peach one of I was wearing makeup) I actually do the dry wash technique too which is where you put the soap on before your skin gets wet since it gets into the pores better and does its job better. When I have time at least once every two weeks I actually massage it into my skin for ten mins with no or minimal water (just make sure your hands are clean first) and exfoliate + rinse in the shower. Ngl I mostly do it that long bc it feels good on my face muscles, you only need to do it 3 mins max

Then I use my vanicream with 3 drops of tea tree oil and go to bed.

The most high maintenance thing about my skin is that I'm a huge germaphobe and I use a clean pillowcase and wash cloth almost each time I use them. I handwash my pillow cases with antibacterial handsoap and hang them up to dry overnight just so I have clean pillowcases to use later without having to pay to use a washer all the time bc who tf has time for that or coins. I usually replace my pillowcases every 3 days. (Or the main pillow I put my face on, the other ones idc)

When I wake up I have bedhead so I shower really quickly to remold my hair and use the pineapple stuff again but I use my actual moisturizers instead of vanicream when I get out and I put them on about 15 mins before my spf. (Spf is the last thing I put on before I leave which isnt recommended professionally but idc) and I use very hot water but I do a little rinse with cold water to feel extra clean for some reason. I dont think it does anything i just think it feels nice ^^;

And... that's it really. After running errands I might use the foam cleanser after washing my hands bc I'm weird and I wash my hands too much XD but yeah thats all it takes for me. My genetics arent that great but my OCD and germaphobia make up for it because really my skin is the way it is because I dont let bacteria feel welcome for a second even if I'm doing dirty work. :P I'm also hyper aware of when sweat is jamming my style because I hate the feeling of sweat on my face so i have a built in tattletale for clogged pores phhh

(I also should say as a disclaimer that I only wear eye and lip makeup and I think foundation is annoying ;;0;; I used it a few times and my skin hated it each time. If you use it make sure you use tea tree oil before bed and when waking up, your skin will need the extra hand kicking the makeup out!)

I hope this helped ^_^

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artificialqueens · 2 years

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💎🌸 Taste So Good (Pillby) - Hannah

a/n: had a new idea thanks to the angle music video and had to submit another fic for the pride bingo! this time i used the prompt beach day (and lust if you squint lol). hope you like it! <3

ao3 link

The best part of Los Angeles was that when it gets unbearably hot in the city, there were a plethora of beaches to visit to cool off. So with food quickly packed and an armful of towels thrown into the trunk of Kerri's car, Willow, Kornbread and June pile in alongside Kerri for an impromptu day of beach relaxation.

The beach they chose was fairly empty, a lucky choice considering half of LA was probably packed along the coasts today. They set up their things by the bottom of a rocky wall that had just the right amount of sun and shade plus the perfect light ocean breeze, and still fairly secluded if other people did begin to show up.

For the first chunk of their day the four women had split into pairs with Kerri and June staying on the beach to sunbathe while Willow and Kornbread venture to the shore and enjoy the water. And a couple hours later once the duos have their fill of their respective activities, they reconverge to fill their bellies.

Unpacking the standard blue and white cooler and a reusable grocery bag, they spread out the array of snackage. A fruit and veggie tray, various flavors of chips in convenient snack sized bags, and a charcuterie board – or as Willow called it, an adult Lunchable – with meats, cheeses and crackers. The blonde nibbled on the cheese and crackers like a little mouse, which always made Kerri giggle fondly at the sight.

Willow laid back on the beach blanket, propped up on their elbows with their stomach filled by their mini feast of snacks, however, it's not long after that they became hyper-aware of the dryness of their mouth and all the crumbs that gathered on their tongue.

Maybe that third bag of chips wasn’t entirely needed, Willow thought to themself, but hey, they were too tasty to pass up. That’s when the lightbulb clicks on that the blonde hadn’t gotten themself a drink, they just devoured their food without a single drop of liquid to wash it down.

As much as Willow did not want to move from their spot, they desperately needed a sip of something. Luckily enough, their girlfriend was sitting right next to the cooler, “Hey Ker, could you pass me something to drink please?”

“Sure can, baby,” The brunette grabs a bottle of grape Gatorade and twists off the cap, holding it before Willow’s lips, “Open up,”

The blonde does as they are told and opens their mouth enough for Kerri to touch the bottle to their lips.. As Willow gulped down the liquid, their eyes were locked with the brunette’s for every second the bottle touched their lips. Willow didn’t waste a single bit, apart from the small drop that trailed down their chin when Kerri pulled the bottle away, which she wiped away with her thumb before returning the cap to the bottle.

“That was so hot,” Willow virtually moaned, their thoughts escaping their mouth before they could filter them.

“I’m glad you thought so too," Kerri hummed, kissing the freckles on her girlfriend's sunkissed cheek.

Kornbread, with a raised brow, gives glances between the couple and June who was sitting next to her, “Did these hoes forget they’re not alone?"

The brunette rolled her eyes without malice, a smirk across her face, "We didn't even kiss on the lips," She dismissed.

"What's next, shaming us for premarital hand holding?" Willow joked.

June snorted, "Girl, probably,"

“Listen, I’m just a good Christian woman, it ain’t my fault y’all are sinners,”

The group sends into full laughter at Kornbread’s half-joking response, and the latter swears that they could be heard in New York with how loud they cackled. But even with the light teasing, a day of sun, sand and laughter is exactly what they all needed.

#rpdr fanfiction #kerri x willow #kerri colby #willow pill #s14 #kornbread jete #june jambalaya #fic challenge #pride 2022 #beach day #trans character #(s)#lesbian au #hannah

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fuckmymunson · 2 years

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Asks <3333 49 , 1 , 2 and 57

Hi lovely<3, ty for the asks, hru?

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans? I have a particular love for teacups<3, I had a blue porcelain tea set when I was younger and I used it every single day (when I moved it broke:C)

2. chocolate bars or lollipops? Ugh,! I will have to say both! u.u, my favorite snack is chocolate, in any form, hot chocolate, chocolate bars, kisses, m&ms, anything, even more, if it has caramel<3. But, I do love lollipops and they help me with anxiety and my oral fixation:(,

49. what saying or quote do you live by? Is actually a quote in Spanish, but it basically means: "If you're afraid of death, then don't live" or something lol, I say it out loud every time I'm about to do something potentially deathly.

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome? Getting out of an (almost) three-year abusive relationship 😵‍💫, it was a living hell. Moving twice in a year and practically pausing my life, still recovering from that one geez, and not exactly struggling but I had a third-degree burn on my leg when I was like 14 so yeah, there's that.

#omel is speaking!#omel's asks<3 #lovely moots!<3

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stopcryinguranadult · 4 years

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I've had really bad cramps all day and bae be here like u wanna hot water bottle and paracetamol?

#my god i am not kidding that i literally forget painkillers exist #i am just ready to suffer #n he'll be like yo you should have some painkillers n im like oh yeah #anyway i guess im a fake indian cause every indian knows paracetamol is the cure for everything lol #he made me a hot water bottle as well 😭#its my third one od the day 🥺#anyway i hope tomorrow im not in pain cause i really want to go outside for a walk #also im like 80% sure my cramps r extra bad cause i skipped my last one n my body is revenging on me #end nonesense #personal

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spoopylay · 3 years

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|wait what!| Bakugo x fem!plus size reader

Summary: Bakugo has had his eye on you since the 1st year. He wants now more than ever.

Includes: fingering, vaginal sex, hair pulling, a bit of degradation, protected sex

A/n: sorry if there are any mistakes. I didn’t really know what to put down because this is my first time writing smut, I’m still new to writing fanfics lol. Anyways, enjoy <3

It was a very hot day at UA high school and the third years have finished training for the day.

“Fuck, it’s so hot,” Bakugo complained.

“No shit Sherlock,” you said slapping the back of his head.

“YOU SHITHEAD! AT LEAST I STILL HAVE ENOUGH ENERGY LEFT TO BLOW YOUR ASS UP,” he said running after you.

“I’d like to see you try,” you said running back to the dorms while laughing.

You and Bakugo’s friendship was...interesting. You guys were always at each others necks, always trying to one up each other. Whether it was in training, on tests, or even seeing who get’s to school earlier, everything always had to turned into a competition. People are always confused on whether or not you two friends. It seems like you guys hate each other, but on the other hand don’t?

Your feelings for Bakugo all changed when he came back from a summer vacation trip with his parents in the second year. He got 10x hotter in such a short amount of time. You couldn’t stop blushing so much that you almost didn’t hangout with him that day. All the girls were fawning over him, but he never really cared. Fast forward a year later, and you still have a fat crush on him.

You got back to the dorm and immediately hit the shower. You got out, dried off and went to go change.

“Y/N!”

You turned around to see Mina standing there, eager to ask you a question.

“What are you doing tonight,” she asked.

“Nothing much, why?”

“Well I was thinking that you, me and the girls could all have a sleepover at Momo’s dorm.”

“That sounds fun. Let’s do it!”

“Yay! See you later bestie.”

“See ya!”

You went back to getting dressed and took off your towel.

Meanwhile in the boy’s locker room, Bakugo was still replaying the image in his head if you running. Those thighs, that ass, they were driving him crazy. He just so happened to have gotten hard after he thought about it so he had to quickly leave so he can take care of the issue.

See something that you didn’t know was that Bakugo has had a crush on you since the first year. When he saw you walk into the classroom for the first time, it was game over. Your uniform made your chest look bigger and outlined your thick waist very well. Not to mention that the thigh high socks made your thighs look softer because it kind of pinched your thighs at the top. He was in love, but couldn’t show it because he didn’t want to look weak.

Some time goes by and you and the other girls are in Momo’s dorm.

“So y/n. Have you been crushing on anyone lately, hmmm?” Mina said while painting your nails.

“Umm, not really,” you replied stuttering.

“You’re lying y/n! You usually stutter when you lie,” Momo said.

“Fine you caught me. It’s Bakugo.”

The room went silent, until all of a sudden a whole bunch a squeals filled up that room.

“OMG YOU TWO WOULD LOOK SO CUTE TOGETHER,” said Uraraka.

“YOU GUYS ARE PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER,” said Hagakure.

“Maybe you should go see if he’s busy right now so you can tell him,” Tsuyu suggested.

“I don’t even know if he likes me,” you said.

“C’mon let’s go,” Mina said pulling your arm.

“What where?”

“To Bakugos, duh.”

Before you could even say anything, you guys were already walking to his dorm and the other girls were following along.

“Guys I don’t think-,” before you could finish Mina knocked on the door for you.

“Y’all better have some beautiful babies in the future,” Mina said with a wink before sprinting off with the rest.

You were very nervous and before you even thought of leaving Bakugo opened the door.

“Yes dumbass,” he said.

“Uhh hey, just want to see if you were bored or something,”

“So you came all the way down to my dorm...to ask me that?”

“Yep. Pretty much.”

“Whatever. Come in.”

You went inside and turned around to see that he had already took his shirt off. His toned abs and pecs were about to make you lose your marbles.

“What? It’s hot in here,” he said with a smirk. He knew you were staring and he was enjoying teasing you without having to really do anything.

“Huh, what? Oh yeah it is heh.”

A couple of minutes go by and you two start talking and laughing. You get up to go get something and accidentally fall, landing on top a bakugo, inches away from kissing him.

You being stupid blurted out that you liked him and immediately regret it.

You got up but Bakugo pulled you back and kissed you hard. You guys continued to make out and next thing you know you were taking your sweater off.

“Y/n, you’re so hot,” he said taking off your shorts.

You were now in your bra and underwear and Bakugo couldn’t handle how sexy you looked and pushed you onto the mattress and got on top.

“Trust me baby, this will be the best night of your life,” he whispered in your ear.

He started kissing and sucking on your neck, leaving marks.

He then made his way down to your pussy and took off your underwear.

He gave you a kiss and started pushing his large, rough fingers into your tight hole so it could fit his large cock.

You moaned as you put your head back. You could feel yourself close to cumming, but that’s when Bakugo stopped.

“Sorry babe, but I want your first orgasm to be because of my dick,” he said pulling out his hard cock and slipping a condom on.

You looked at it for a second and told him that it won’t fit. But he chuckled and said, “I’ll make it fit.”

He then spread your thick thighs apart and put them around his waist. He then started thrusting into you as gentle as possible but even then it felt like he was mercilessly pounding into you. You couldn’t but loudly moan Bakugo’s name from all of the pleasure from his cock.

“That’s right. Am I making you feel good babe,” asked as he started rubbing your clit.

“Yes, yes you are,” you said moaning again.

You could feel yourself coming onto your high. You let out another moan as your back arched and you came onto his dick. But you weren’t done, you needed it again. Good thing Bakugo wasn’t done either.

He flipped you so your ass would be facing up and you face would be buried into his mattress.

He then started mercilessly fucking your poor, sensitive pussy until you couldn’t even think straight, all you could do was moan and shake your head.

He gave your full ass a hard smack that left a mark and you let out a loud moan and started gushing all over his dick.

“Who knew innocent y/n likes to be turned into a fucking whore,” he said continuing to pound into you.

“Do you like when I call you a whore y/n,” he said pulling your head up by your hair. You nodded.

“Good girl,” he said dropping your head back but still had his grip on the back of your head.

He continued until he finally came. He slipped off the condom, tied it, and threw it into the garbage can.

You collapsed onto your stomach because of how tired you were.

Bakugo gave you a bottle of water after you got cleaned up. You two agreed that you would sleep over at his dorm for the night.

“You know a had a crush on you since the 1st year y/n,” he said turning into his side.

“Wait what,” you said.

“Yep, ever since I saw you I’ve always wanted to be with you, romantically.”

“Well, why not make it a thing now,” you said holding his hand.

“I would really like that,” he said putting your head onto his chest.

The two of you then fell asleep and were excited to flex on everyone about how much of an amazing couple you two are.

#plus size reader #mha x plus size reader #bnha x plus size reader #bakugo x plus size reader #bnha x chubby reader #chubby reader #mha x chubby reader #bnha smut #smut #mha smut #bakugo smut #katsuki bakugo smut #bnha x female reader #mha x female reader #fem!reader

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killingitreservoirdogsstyle · 2 years

Note

Could you do something with Mr Brown, Nice Guy Eddie and any of the other dogs if you feel like it (or even just Eddie if you don’t feel like doing more than one!) and what they would do if they had a partner who is on their period? I’m just finishing mine and your girl could use some comfort because this is a huge pain lol. Love your blog so much!!! I hope you’re doing well. 💖

Hey hon, I’m so sorry to hear that you’re having a hard time. Believe me, I get the pain being AFAB myself. Sorry it’s so rough; I’m more than happy to help out here. I apologize for the late reply by the way, I hope that these headcanons can account for it. ( Thought the GIF below was fitting for this occasion ).

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, angst, hurt-comfort, periods, and insecurities.

the dogs with an s/o on their period ( reservoir dogs )

MR. BROWN/JOHNNY CAMPBELL

This cinnamon roll is both confused and worried simultaneously for you. He has no clue what’s going on to you, all he knows is that you’re in pain, and you’re not yourself.

He does all he can to make you comfortable. Blanket burritos, hot water bottles, painkillers, chocolate, whatever you need, he’ll get it no questions asked. He loves you, only wanting to see you happy.

If you’re okay with it, then cuddles are totally on the table.

Of course, being the film buff he is, you’ll basically have a movie marathon week after work. He pulls out all of your favourites from his vast VHS tape collection, his arms heaped with comedies, rom-coms, whatever genre you like. His commentary is priceless, putting a smile on your face.

“ How you feeling, honeycake?” He asks the minute you walk in the door after a long day at your job. He can see that you’re not a hundred percent, so he rushes to scoop you into a tight hug.

Foot massages, this is Brown/Tarantino we’re talking about, ha ha.

In all seriousness though, he’s your knight in shining armour.

“ Aww, c’mere and let me rub your back, sweetie.”

“ I’m so sorry, I know it sucks balls. I wish I could take it away.”

“ Hey, as soon as you’re feelin’ better, I’ll take you out to Blockbuster and we can rent a couple of movies, get some take out, and have a date night at home. You’d like that?”

“NICE GUY” EDDIE CABOT

He saw the signs of your period approaching a week beforehand. Your change in attitude, the way you looked, your energy levels—it wasn’t exactly conspicuous.

When the actual cycle starts, you bet that he gets himself in gear. He’s a sassy king, we all know this, but he tries to tone it back so as not to irritate you.

Hugs, hugs, and more hugs, with an extra helping of cuddles and staying in bed for the whole morning.

Eddie’s the best cuddle-buddy out of all the Dogs in my opinion; warm, encompassing, soft, and gentle despite his size and strength. All that sweet chubbiness gets put to good use.

“ Mmm, Daddy’s gotcha, doll. There ain’t nothing that can take me away from you right now.” You melt into his chest, his sensual purring getting the best of you. Even when he’s not trying to be, Eddie is white hot sex.

He pampers you, there is no other way to put it. You tend to feel insecure about yourself when your time of the month comes. It breaks his heart to see you doubting yourself; his beautiful, smoking hot partner. He does your hair, paints your nails, treating you like the god you are. ( I’ll go more into detail about where he picked up his beauty skills in some future headcanons, 😉 ).

“ Don’t you goddamn forget how gorgeous you are, you hear me?”

“ You’re a god/goddess, baby. I know that Heaven is real, because it’s blessed me with you.”

“ I’m here to be here for you, okay?”

MR. WHITE/LARRY DIMMICK

I have a theory that Larry is twice divorced, and you are his third partner. He could never keep his wives because they couldn’t accept him for how he did business, nor over his sense of humour, which you adore. Being married before means that White has a fair share of experience in the period department.

Being a man, he doesn’t know how it feels himself, but he is more than sympathetic. He thinks that men who are dismissive towards the struggles of menstruation are disgusting and stupid as hell. Honestly, it makes him very angry. So you can sure that he won’t treat you like that.

Oftentimes, you feel grossed out by dirt and sweat when you’re on your period. You’re in the shower regularly everyday, to combat this. He’ll join you, but not to be lecherous. He just wants to make you comfy. He has some lavender scented shower steamers, which make the experience better.

Washing your hair for you, his hands so gentle on your scalp. He scrubs you down himself, taking caution around your sensitive regions. And he always asks beforehand, like the classy gentleman he is.

“ You still okay with this? I can stop if it’s painful, darling,” You tell him it’s perfectly fine, letting him work his magic.

Okay, but one of the cutest things he does to help you feel better? Reading to you in bed.

I’ve already covered how much of a literature lover he is in my first requested fanfic on this blog; so go check that out if that interests you. Anyways, he’ll crawl into the bed you two share with a bottle of wine and two glasses. He pours, hands you one, then picks up a book off the shelf above the headboard. And he reads to you, in that velvety honeyed voice of his. GOSH, NOW I’M SCREAMING AT MY SCREEN.

“ You know how much I love you, Y/N? Even when you’re feeling down, I love you as much as I did when I first laid eyes on you.”

“ I fluffed up your pillow for you. Why don’t you come have a nap with this geezer, huh?”

“ It’ll be over soon, love. It’ll be over soon.”

MR. ORANGE/FREDDY NEWANDYKE

Like Brown, this guy has no idea why you’re suddenly so angry all the time. He’s basically thinking, what demon has possessed my sweet baby Y/N? Your mood swings unnerve him, he doesn’t know what’s going on. So he asks you, and you tell him you’re on your period.

That makes sense to him suddenly. It dawns on him right there in the living room of your apartment. He nods, pulling you into a hug. He tells you he’s sorry, and that he’s all yours to do whatever he can to help.

Freddy whips out his comic books, action figures, and cartoons to entertain you with, having the time of his life with you snuggled up in your fuzzy onesie on his chest.

He comes back from the grocery store carrying all your favourite comfort foods: chocolate, snack foods, booze, whatever you like. He just uses your period as an excuse to eat pizza and watch Spider-Man all day.

“ I’ve called in sick with the Dogs, so now I’m here the whole week!” He beams, grinning like the prankster he is. You shake your head, not able to help but laugh and call him an idiot.

He carries you bridal style around the house, you can’t protest. To the kitchen, the bathroom, the bedroom, he’s like your valet-slash-personal-driver in one package. Plus, it makes you laugh when he creates his own sound effects as he sweeps you to your feet. He’s a comedian, definitely.

“ Hey, you know what always makes me feel better? Ice cream sandwiches and Nintendo! ”

“ You’re the Lois Lane to my Clark Kent, baby. The Mary Jane to my Peter. And don’t you ever think about saying that you can’t compare to those broads, because you do, and you’re better than they are.”

“ I hate seeing you in pain, it makes me sad too. I’m sorry it hurts, I’d give anything to stop it. ”

I hope these were okay, and if not, I will GLADLY rewrite them to make it better for you. Thanks for the request, anon, and I’m sending you all my good vibes and love during this sucky time.

#killingitreservoirdogsstyle #quentin tarantino #reservoir dogs #mr orange #mr white #nice guy eddie #reservoir dogs headcanon #reservoir dogs x reader #periods are the worst #tim roth #chris penn #harvey keitel #movies #thank you anon #my love to you

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seanfalco · 3 years

Text

The Great Death Defying Nathan Young | Nathan Young x Reader

Word Count: 3.9k Warning(s): Suggestive language, Blood, Character Death (but it’s Nathan, so he’s okay)

Summary: Becoming a Vegas magician’s personal assistant, you get more than you bargained for when you find out the hard way that the magic is actually real, and so are your feelings.

a/n: Dedicated to @midnightseance / @imagine-you for our one year friendaversary! You were the one to inspire this fic with your ideas after all lol. Thank you Mel for being such an amazing friend and writing partner. I love you to bits! (To bits, I say!)

“This your first day?” the woman with the clipboard and headset next to you asked, startling you. Tearing your eyes from the stage, you nodded.

“I’m [y/n],” you introduced, shaking the woman’s hand as she checked her clipboard.

“I’m Deb. Ah, yes, here you are,” she said, looking back up at you. “You’ll be shadowing me today,” she explained. “Apparently Mr. Young needs more than one personal assistant,” she added under her breath.

“What’s he like?” you asked as you fell into step with the woman.

“A giant pain in my ass,” she grumbled with a twist of her lips. “Everyday its something else: ‘I’m hungry, fetch me some more cornettos’, ‘get Marnie a new pair of lingerie, you know th’kind I like’, ‘I need more condoms’,” she exclaimed in a poor imitation of an Irish accent.

“Oh,” you exclaimed, your brows rising in surprise. You were starting to get a better picture of what this Nathan Young you were going to be working for was like and he seemed like a bit of a prick.

——

“Mr. Young,” Deb called through the door to his dressing room after knocking several times with no answer. “Mr. Young!” she tried again, louder this time.

“What? Jay-sus, come on in!”

Deb rolled her eyes as she opened the door and you got your first look at ‘The Great Nathan Young’. Sprawled back in a rather grandiose throne-like chair, one long leg thrown over the arm rest, he wore naught but a half open silk robe tied loosely at the waist and a long silver chair round his neck that glittered against his bare chest.

Sporting a dashing goatee and dark wavy locks that framed his face, his dark limned emerald eyes unabashedly looked you up and down, openly checking you out with a small quirk to his lips.

“And who’re you?” he asked, his lilting accent taking you by surprise. It was nothing like how Deb had impersonated.

“This is [y/n], she’s your new assistant,” Deb introduced, sounding bored as she looked disdainfully around his messy dressing room.

“New assistant? I thought I was your assistant!” the dark haired girl you’d seen on stage earlier exclaimed, her voice a rather grating whine.

“What? No, sweetheart,” Nathan soothed, pulling her into his lap. “She’s my new personal assistant, you’re my magical assistant,” he explained and the girl ‘ohhhh’d’ in understanding, letting out a high pitched giggle.

“Well, that’s a relief,” she exclaimed. “I thought you were gettin’ rid of me for a moment there.”

You noticed Deb roll her eyes again and fought the urge yourself.

“Alright, well, if you don’t need anything—” Before she could finish, Marnie spoke up, cutting her off.

“Actually, I’d like a coffee!”

“Oooh, and I’ll have a soda, and a sandwich,” Nathan added.

Ushering you out of the room before the two could asked for anything else, Deb grumbled under her breath, showing you where the food cart was and how to make Marnie’s coffee the way she like it, with extra sugar.

——

You’d only been on the job a handful of days, but you had to admit it was kind of exciting, despite Nathan’s constant demanding whims. Standing off to the side to watch that night’s rehearsal, you couldn’t help but marvel at how real it all looked.

“Marnie! Stop stop stop!” Nathan cried, frustration lacing his voice as he stopped the production to chastise his partner for about the third time.

“What now?” Marnie exclaimed with a huff, crossing her arms petulantly over her chest.

“You’re not hitting your mark!” Nathan groaned, gesturing to the taped off X on the middle of the stage. “How am I s’posed t’make yeh disappear if y’don’t hit your mark?”

“I don’t know! Does it really matter that much?”

This wasn’t the first time they’d ended up in a shouting match either. It seemed over the past few days, since you’d started, there’d been trouble in paradise, the two constantly picking at one another.

“I need a break, I’m gettin’ a fuckin’ headache,” Nathan groaned, walking off the stage and you hurried after him.

“Can I get you anything?” you asked and Nathan pulled his hand from his face to look up at you.

“An aspirin?” he asked, a pathetic note to his voice before covering his eyes again as he slumped back in his chair. Shaking your head ruefully, you went to go grab a bottled water and some aspirin, holding them out to him.

“Here y’go, drink up,” you prompted, watching him pop the pills in his mouth and down them with a swig of water.

“Thanks,” he muttered, eyeing you askance and you smiled— it was probably the first time he’d actually thanked you for anything.

“No problem,” you murmured. “Can I ask you something?” you wondered after a moment, your curiosity getting the better of you. You knew he was probably going to tell you “a magician never reveals his secrets” or some other bullshit line, but you had to ask anyway.

“Hmm?” Nathan prompted, his eyes still closed.

“How do you make it all look so real?” you asked, a hint of awe in your voice and Nathan’s eyes opened as he straightened, fixing you with a smirk.

“That’s because it is all real,” he exclaimed grandly.

Snorting, you rolled your eyes. “Alright, keep your secrets then.”

“I’m serious!” Nathan insisted. He looked like he was gunna say more until the production manager called him back to the stage and he let out a heavy sigh, pushing out of his chair. “I’d love t’stay and chat, but duty calls,” he muttered, spreading his hands apologetically.

“Oh, but first… this is for you,” he said, stopping suddenly to turn, and with a flourish he held out a single red rose to you. “I didn’t know what your favourite flower was… or really how t’make anythin’ that isn’t a rose so…” he trailed off with a shrug and you took the flower, watching him walk to the stage in awe.

Turning, you found Deb watching you, rolling her eyes at the grin you quickly wiped off your face. However, once she left, you smiled to yourself, tucking the flower behind your ear.

Busying yourself with rearranging Nathan’s wardrobe rack, you lost track of what was happening on stage until an angry shriek filled your ears and you jumped, your head snapping up. Before you knew what had happened, Marnie was pushing past you, nearly knocking you over in her haste, Nathan hot on her heels.

“No, I’m done!” she exclaimed, stomping her foot in consternation.

“But Marnie, baby, c’mon!” Nathan pleaded, rushing past to follow her to his dressing room.

“You better go after them,” Deb groaned, running her hand down her face.

Not exactly wanting to eavesdrop, it was kind of unavoidable, however, as you stood outside the open door. Marnie was throwing her clothes into a suitcase in a huff.

“I can’t do this anymore! You said it was gunna be a cakewalk, but you lied!” she cried hysterically, her already nasally voice raising an octave.

“What am I s’posed t’do without you?” Nathan countered, trying to get her to stop.

“I dunno, get another assistant! How about her?” Marnie pointed at you, having caught sight of you standing by the door. “I’ve seen you flirtin’ with her!”

Nathan grimaced as he caught your eye, the rose he’d given you still tucked in your hair and you flashed him an apologetic look. “Marnie—” he tried again, but she brushed past him, her bags in hand.

“No, Nathan, we’re through. Don’t follow me!”

“You’ll be sorry!” he yelled after her before sweeping dramatically back into his dressing room. “Well, y’comin’ in or not?” he called when you hesitated.

“What, uhm, what was all that about?” you asked, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind you. Nathan already had a bottle in his hand and when he turned to face you, plopping down in his chair your brows rose in surprise.

Instead of the long hair you’d come to recognize on him he sported a mess of dark springy curls piled atop his head, and his facial hair was nowhere to be found, making him look nearly ten years younger.

“Oh, who knows? She’s always been fickle, but who needs her, right?” Nathan replied with bravado, waving his hand as he brought the bottle back to his lips.

“You-your face… you look—” you floundered and Nathan snorted.

“Different?” he scoffed, snorting. “Yeah, well, it’s fake.”

“But you said…”

Giving you a patient look as he sat up, he seemed to find your shock amusing. “Th’magic is real, but my appearance ain’t,” he explained. “I mean, clearly, I’m gorgeous, but d’yeh think anyone would pay t’see ‘The Great Nathan Young’ if I looked like this?” he asked, gesturing to his face.

“I dunno, probably. I think y’look better this way,” you added with a shrug, your words taking him aback and he gaped at you. “So, what’re you gunna do now?” you asked, quickly changing the subject, your face starting to warm at your admission.

Groaning, Nathan deflated in his chair. “I’ll have t’find another assistant t’take Marnie’s place, and fast, opening night is tomorrow and if we have to postpone… it’ll be a disaster.”

“It can’t be that bad, can it?” you asked, trying to lift his spirits, but he merely gave you a flat stare before burying his face in his hands.

“I’ve got a lot riding on this show, if it flops... As a kid, all I ever wanted was t’be a magician and this show is my big break. I guess I could always go back t’do card tricks in casinos...” he sighed, the sadness in his voice tugging at your heart.

Trying to think of something to say, you awkwardly patted his shoulder, jumping when he suddenly sat up, his gaze lifting to you and you didn’t like the appraising way he looked at you.

“What…?” you asked hesitantly, although you could already guess what he was thinking.

“You could be my new assistant!” he exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “You’re already familiar with the show and—”

“Oh, no no no,” you quickly protested, holding your hands up.

“Oh c’mon! You’d look stunning, and you’d be savin’ th’show,” Nathan argued. “D’you want me t’beg?” he asked, promptly dropping to his knees at your feet, only making your face flare hotter.

“That’s not—”

Before you could finish, he’d taken your hands in his as he gazed up at you entreatingly, his gorgeous green eyes getting the better of you.

“Alright, fine, but Deb’s gunna be pissed,” you groaned.

Instantly Nathan’s demeanor brightened, a grin stretching his face. “Leave that crusty old bat t’me,” he exclaimed, waving the thought away as he leapt to his feet, pressing a kiss to your cheek before you’d even realized it. “C’mon, we better get you into costume, we have a rehearsal t’finish!

——

As you’d feared, Deb was not happy about this new development, leaving her once again to Nathan’s whims as his main personal assistant, and grumbling under her breath, she led you to wardrobe.

“Let’s see how long you last!” she exclaimed as she left you to change. Holding up your costume, you eyed the scanty sequined outfit with reluctance. Sighing, you pulled the costume on and inspected yourself in the mirror. Though you weren’t usually very comfortable wearing something so revealing, you found yourself looking forward to Nathan’s reaction, touching your cheek where he’d kissed you.

“Wow!” he breathed, left stunned for a moment as his mouth fell open, his gaze taking you in. It wasn’t long, however, for his cocky demeanor to return, and he let out a low whistle before flashing you a cheeky smirk.

“See, told yeh you’d look amazin’,” he exclaimed, back in his wig and goatee, and you rolled your eyes; you really did like him better without that ridiculous get up.

Climbing up on stage with him, he walked you through each act and you were thankful you had at least some knowledge of what you were supposed to do after watching Marnie so many times. Up close and part of the action, the magic tricks seemed even more real and though you tried, you couldn’t quite figure out how he did it.

“Well, I think that went as well as can be hoped for,” the production manager exclaimed, a haggard look on his face. He, like Nathan, needed the show to go off without a hitch.

“Hey, you were great up there!” Nathan called, catching up to you as you headed back to the spare dressing room — yours, now — to change.

“Really?” you asked, kinda surprised; you’d felt like you’d just been fumbling your way through it.

“Yeah, you’re a natural,” he insisted, leaning against the wall next to your door and you rolled your eyes, fighting a pleased grin.

“So…” Nathan murmured, his gaze dropping as he leaned in closer, trailing his fingers up your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Wanna come round t’mine tonight? I’ll help keep your mind off the pre-show jitters,” he offered.

For a moment you merely stared at him incredulously.

“We’ll get drunk, have a little fun—”

“I can’t believe you!” you exclaimed in disgust.

“What?” he asked, a confused frown pulling at his lips. “I’ve seen th’way you look at me when y’think on one’s watching. You want me,” he argued.

“So you think just because I took Marnie’s place that I’ll sleep with you too?”

“Yeah, why not? Y’know you want to,” Nathan countered.

Growling, you pushed past him into your dressing room. “And here I was starting to think you might not be a total prick!” You caught the surprised look on Nathan’s face before slamming the door in his face, and that at least made you feel a little better.

——

It was the night of the performance, opening night, and you felt like you were gunna be sick. You’d never done anything like this before. What if you fucked it up and ruined the show? Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you groaned, wishing you could relax when a knock at your door made you jump.

“C-come in!” he called, your voice wavering.

When Nathan’s head appeared around the door you directed him a flat stare. “What, you here to ask me for a quick shag before the show?” you sneered, trying not to think about how handsome he looked in his suit.

“No!” he exclaimed hastily, though he looked slightly guilty. “No, actually I just came t’check on you. I figured you might be a little nervous.”

“A little…” you admitted, your glare softening somewhat and Nathan offered you a smile.

“Just… don’t think about the audience. Focus on me,” he murmured. “You’re gunna do great,” he assured you before his eyes trailed downward and quickly back up. “You look stunning by the way,” he exclaimed, quickly ducking out the door before you could chuck something at him, leaving you flushed and slightly flustered.

“Prick,” you muttered under your breath, but the word held no heat.

Waiting in the wings, you felt stage fright wash over you afresh as you caught sight of how many people were in the audience. Your heart pounding in your ears, your breath sped up as your whole body felt rooted in place. How were you supposed to do this?

You have no speaking lines, you reminded yourself, taking a deep breath, then another. All you have to do is bring Nathan his props and look pretty. All you have to do is focus on him…

Suddenly the house lights dimmed and went dark, a hush going over the house.

“You ready?” Nathan’s voice in your ear sent a shiver through you, and you yelped softly as he pinched your ass. Before you could turn to smack him he disappeared with a flourish of the cloak he wore, appearing in the middle of the stage in a cloud of smoke for his grand entrance to a crescendo of music and applause.

For a moment you stared at where he’d been in surprise. You’d never been that close before when he did that, you always just assumed it was some sort of trick with a trap door, but now you weren’t so sure.

“Allow me to introduce t’you my very lovely assistant, [y/n]!”

Nathan’s lilting voice calling your name snapped you out of your thoughts and you nearly missed your cue, hurrying on stage to stand next to him, bowing low to the audience before hanging off his arm.

“Took your sweet time,” he whispered, his brows furrowing slightly. “Thought you got cold feet…”

“How’d you do that?” you hissed, still trying to wrap your head around it.

“I told you, it’s magic,” he replied with a smirk, turning back to address the audience. “For my first trick—”

After your first near miss, the rest of the show went off without a hitch and you were actually starting to enjoy yourself, thankful for the brightness of the lights overhead which kept you from really being able to see the audience that clearly.

“You ready for the big finale, sweetheart?” Nathan whispered, slipping his arm around you.

“I have a name, you know,” you reminded him, but there was no snap to your voice and he merely raised his eyebrows at you.

“Are y’ready for the big finale, [y/n]?” he amended, bringing a grin to your face though you tried to hide it.

“Yeah, I think so. Are you?” you asked. Even though you’d seen him perform this trick several times it still made you nervous.

“You know it,” he answered, a genuine smile splitting his face. “Y’know, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were enjoying yourself,” he pointed out, nudging your arm.

“I am,” you admitted, hurrying back on stage before he could react.

——

“And now for my final performance of the night, I will be recreating a feat first done by Harry Houdini himself!” Nathan exclaimed grandly to the audience, throwing his arms wide. “Let’s see if I survive!”

“Please don’t say that,” you muttered, helping him shed his cape and fitting the straitjacket on him, securing his arms in place while dramatic music played.

“What, y’worried? I can do this in my sleep,” Nathan murmured, flexing his arms, testing his restraints.

“I’m not… worried,” you argued, stepping back to gesture toward Nathan with a flourish for the audience.

“You are, you’re worried bout me,” Nathan insisted, a smug grin on his lips. “I always knew you cared.”

Scoffing quietly, you didn’t contradict him as the hook descended from above.

“Now that I’m fully restrained, my lovely assistant is going to attach me to this hook where I will be suspended upside down over the stage while I attempt to free myself from my confines!”

The audience gasped.

“Good luck,” you murmured as you helped Nathan lay down on stage, attaching the hook to a rope tied round his ankles.

“I don’t need luck, I have magic, remember,” he countered, grinning coyly at you.

“Nathan—“ you sighed.

“Can I get a kiss for luck, if y’think I need it so badly?”

Rolling your eyes skyward, you bit your lip, bending over him to press your lips to his before pulling back.

“There, now I feel better,” he teased. “When I get back down will y’give me a proper kiss?” he asked as you gave the signal for him to be lifted.

“We’ll see,” you muttered, watching him as he slowly ascended into the air til he stopped, the spotlights training on him.

Holding your breath, you watching him struggle, squirming in the straitjacket, til just like the other times he’d practiced it, he finally freed one arm and then the other, wriggling out of the straitjacket and letting it fall with a thud to the stage below as the audience gasped.

It was when he fought to free himself from the ropes tying his feet together that it happened; he was reaching for the hook to hold onto when the last of the rope fell away too quickly.

You watched in horror as Nathan fell, his name on your lips, the scene unfolding as if in slow motion.

This was not how this was supposed to happen, but the audience didn’t seem to realize it wasn’t part of the show. As soon as he hit the ground at your feet with a sickening crunch, you fell to your knees at his side, a sob catching in your throat, time snapping back to normal even as the world around you felt muted, your pulse the only thing filling your ears.

The quickly spreading pool of blood beneath him had reached your knees now, but you didn’t care, pulling his lifeless body into your arms, stroking his curls away from his forehead, the glamour having faded away.

He’d been telling you the truth this whole time— it was all real...but so was this. How was he supposed to come back from this?

“Nathan, you idiot,” you sobbed, stroking his cheek. “Why’d you have to do something so foolishly dangerous? You should’ve been wearing a wire, just in case…”

You felt your tears fall hotly down your face, blurring your vision. “What am I supposed to do now? I was just starting to like you, you ass—”

“You were?”

At Nathan’s raspy voice, your eyes snapped open and your jaw fell as you found him watching you, a small grin playing at his pink lips which just moments ago had been alarmingly pale.

“Nathan, you’re—! How?” you gasped, quickly wiping at your eyes, blinking back your tears.

“Am I in heaven? Cause you must be th’hottest angel I’ve ever seen,” he joked, his lips twitching as his grin widened.

“Nathan!” you huffed, unamused, your lips quivering. “You fucking asshole, that wasn’t funny! You scared me half t’death!”

“Were you cryin’ over me?” he asked, tilting his head as he reached up to wipe at your damp cheeks. “Don’t cry, [y/n]. I’m alright,” he assured you, his gaze softening, touched at how much you cared.

“How-how did you do that?” you asked, thoughts of anything but the young man in your arms far away.

“Well, I’m immortal, so…” he shrugged as he sat up, wincing slightly.

“That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed, met with Nathan’s raised eyebrows.

“Is it? After everything else you’ve seen me do?”

“I guess not…” you conceded. “You’re still an ass though,” you exclaimed, helping him up to face the audience who applauded and cheered deafeningly.

“Yeah, but you still like me,” Nathan pointed out cheekily.

Opening your mouth to argue, you decided against it, too relieved that he was alive, that you had more time. Yanking him toward you, your mouths collided and he reacted instantly, his arms snaking around you as he dipped you low, kissing you back with a fervor that stole your breath, leaving you panting in his arms as he righted you.

“You wanna come back t’mine after the show?” he asked, watching you expectantly.

“Do you always go to these lengths to get laid?” you teased, even though you already knew your answer.

“Nope, you’re th’first I’ve died for,” he answered with a smirk that made you grin back. “Besides, I’m hopin’ it might be a little more than that,” he admitted as the curtain fell.

Searching his face for a moment you kissed him again. “I’d like that.”

———————

Tag list: @magic-multicolored-miracle @messengeronthemoon @the-freckled-luba @firstpersonnarrator @xenteaart @gurlimtired @phoenixhits @super-unpredictable98 @nightingale-rose @salvador-daley @duck-noises @forenschik @simsiddy @a-ghoulish-tale @love-is-dirty-baby @captainsheeballs

#misfits #nathan young #nathan young x reader #vegas!nathan #vegas!au #robert sheehan character fic #my writing

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4stars-uswnt · 3 years

Text

A Shoulder to Lean On [Preath x Daughter!Reader]

requested by anon: More preath with daughter!reader? Something a little angsty where the reader came from a toxic home and can’t communicate her feelings very well with them and they’re worried about her a lot. And she finally feels safe enough to tell them she’s not been doing well mentally and they comfort her.

A/N: hope everyone had a happy holidays and a happy new year!! after a much much needed break, here’s some writing! lol it’s pretty long but i hope y’all enjoy it :)

warnings: mention and brief description of abuse, mention of bullying, slight swearing

“You ready, kiddo?” Tobin asks, as she rolls her suitcase to the front door of the apartment.

“Mhmm,” you hum. “I still don’t see why I have to go with you guys. I’m old enough to stay at home alone, and I’ve done it before.”

“You know why.” Christen gives you a stern glare, reminding you of the exact reason, as you roll your eyes.

A couple days ago, you had gotten into a fight at school. One of the guys in your class had been picking on you, calling you names, hitting you, and asking why your moms would adopt anyone like you, not that you’d told Tobin or Christen any of this.

Ever since you had been adopted about two years ago, when you were 15, you hadn’t been the best at openly communicating with your moms, especially about your feelings. Your previous home life wasn’t the best, as your biological parents would verbally, and sometimes even, physically abuse you.

After going through that whole ordeal and then jumping around in foster care, you weren’t used to expressing your emotions nor were you used to having people, like Tobin and Christen, who actually cared for you.

So when the two soccer players took you in and adopted you, it was certainly an adjustment for you. You found yourself often bottling everything up and then lashing out, usually taking form in a yelling match between you and your moms.

Both Tobin and Christen, but particularly the curly-haired forward, were worried about you. They knew you hadn’t ever actually had the chance to process the traumatic events of your childhood, and your coping mechanism of keeping it all to yourself was not healthy. However, every time they tried to talk to you, you would brush them off.

Though, their worried had been heightened a couple of days ago, when they’d found out you’d resorted to physical violence, punching a boy in the face. But they couldn’t let your actions go unpunished, hence why you were traveling with them to Cincinnati for the USWNT’s SheBelieves Cup training camp and matches.

“Whatever,” you mutter under your breath.

“Come on, this is hardly a punishment.” Christen squeezes your shoulder, decidedly ignoring your comment, and picks up her bag, motioning for you to do the same. “In fact, I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself.”

“I doubt it.” You grab your duffel, as the three of you make your way downstairs.

“Emily and Lindsey will be there,” Tobin offers, knowing that might cheer you up. Living in Portland, you spent a lot of time with the two blonde women and formed a sisterly relationship with them.

You shrug, trying to hide the excitement bubbling within you.

“Come on you two,” Christen calls over her shoulder, as she packs the suitcases into the trunk of the Uber.

“Just try and tone down the attitude, for your mom’s sake, okay kiddo?” Tobin suggests, patting your shoulder. You roll your eyes but nod in agreement.

“Let’s just get this over with,” you huff quietly to yourself, sliding into the backseat, as the three of you make your way to the airport.

——————

As you walk into the lobby of the hotel, trailing behind your moms, you hear someone call your name.

“(Y/N)!” Emily runs across the room and hops on your bag, Lindsey following close behind.

You wince, as the two older women crash into you and squish your body.

“You’re here at camp!” Lindsey claps your shoulder. “We’re gonna have so much fun.”

“Yeah.” You shrug. “I’m gonna head up to my room.”

You give them a small smile, wiggling out of their hold, and approach your moms.

“Could I have a key to the room please?”

“Here you go.” Christen pulls out the card from her coat pocket, placing it in your hand. “We’re having team dinner at 6, so be down by then.”

You nod and head down the hall to the elevators.

—————

A couple hours later, after you’d unpacked, showered, and scrolled through your phone, you walked into the large conference room, where the team dinner was set up.

Knowing the routine by now, you grabbed a plate and began to serve yourself some food. Scanning the room, you decide to take a seat next to Sonny and across from Lindsey, your moms only a few seats down.

As you begin to take a bite of salad, you feel Emily nudge your elbow. “So was what you did so bad that your parents had to force you to come to camp?” The defender shovels a mouth full of food, looking at you expectantly.

You furrow your brow. “Huh?”

“Well,” Lindsey chimes in. “You rarely ever come to national camp anymore, and when you do it’s usually a punishment of some sort because you look miserable.”

“Fair.” You nod, taking another bite.

“Well, you gonna spill the beans?” Mal asks, joining the conversation.

“Just stuff at school.” You shrug, as the youngsters around you exchange glances.

“What happened at school?” Rose raises her eyebrows.

“Nothing,” you mumble, ducking you head. “I don’t really wanna talk about it.”

Ignoring you, Sonnett keeps pushing. “Did you not do your homework? Get a bad grade on a test? Ooooo did you get into a fight?” The defender leans forward on the edge of her seat, poking your arm, as the rest of the younger players pause their meal, eagerly awaiting your answer.

You feel yourself getting increasingly agitated, and you clench your hand around your fork.

“Emily!” Tobin calls out from across the table. “Stop being so nosy and cut it—”

“I said I didn’t wanna talk about it!” You yell, as you slam your fist down onto the table, causing the plates and silverware to clatter. The entire room goes silent, everybody turning to look at you to see what’ll happen next.

“(Y/N) (Y/M/N) Press-Heath!” Christen scolds, giving you a glare, nodding her head to the door. “Outside, now.”

You drop your utensils and push your chair away from the table, following your mom out of the room.

Once the two of you are alone out in the hallway, the silence becomes unbearable. Feeling ashamed and embarrassed, you hang your head and avoid eye contact with Christen.

“(Y/N), what happened in there?” Anger evident was evident in the forward’s voice, but she remained calm.

You shrug your shoulders, putting your hands in your hoodie pocket.

Frustrated by your behavior, Christen sighs, “That behavior is absolutely unacceptable, and you know that, (Y/N/N). You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing, mom,” you murmur, intensely staring at the plain pattern on the hotel carpet.

“Look at me, honey.” Christen gently lifts your chin with her finger, her eyes softening. “Talk to me.”

You lock eyes with your mom and feel guilt pulling at your heart. You knew that your parents wanted what was best for you and that they actually cared for you, unlike your biological ones, but after what you’d been through, you couldn’t bring yourself to open up very easily.

“I’m just tired,” you easily lie, your eyes fleeting from Christen’s green orbs.

“Okay,” your mom sighs in defeat. “Well in that case, go upstairs and get some rest.”

You give her a small smile and turn to make your way towards the elevators. Before you could get too far, Christen calls after you, “And don’t come back down until you’ve lost the attitude!”

Looking back at her, you throw up a thumbs up, before pushing the up button. After a quick elevator ride up to the third floor, you unlock the hotel room you shared with your moms. Glancing over at your backpack leaning against the desk, you know you should probably start your homework and study for your biology test, but the bed calls to you, and before you know it, you’re fast asleep under the covers, sleep taking over.

—————

The next morning, you wake up in a bed all by yourself. Looking over at the opposite bed, you notice it’s empty, your moms already up. You glance at the clock. 8:17 am. Rolling over to grab your phone of the nightstand, you check your text messages and see one from the group chat with your moms.

Ma 🤙:

Morning kiddo. Breakfast starts at 8 but we didn’t wanna wake you. Hope you slept well. Please be down before 9. Love u

You simply give the text a thumbs up, before sliding out of bed and making your way to the bathroom for a shower.

Once the water is to the temperature of your liking, you step under the hot water, steam filling the bathroom. You were honestly grateful your moms had already gone down to breakfast, as it left you alone to shower in peace.

When you were back at your old home, the shower was the only place you could escape. You would use it as a place of refuge, where the water would drown out all the noise of your parents’ yelling and screaming, numb the pain of your cuts and bruises, and leave you to empty your mind.

Closing your eyes, you let the water hit your face and drip down your body. You try to feel every single drop when it hits and as it falls, grounding yourself in the present.

After a few minutes, you pull your head out from under the water, wipe your eyes, and get on with cleaning yourself.

Once you’ve finished showering and getting dressed, you make your way down to breakfast. You grab a banana and a yogurt before sitting down across from your moms.

“Good morning, sweetie,” Christen coos. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” you respond, as you peel your banana.

“You feeling better?” Tobin subtly asks, raising her eyebrow at you.

You nod, your mouth too full to voice a response.

The two women exchange a worried glance, causing you to roll your eyes. “Moms, I’m fine.”

“Alright, kiddo,” Tobin sighs. “Just know if you ever need to talk about anything, we’re here for you.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, giving her a small smile.

“Well,” Christen starts, as she begins to clear her plate. “We have to leave for training in about ten minutes, so you either have two options: you can either come to the field with us and watch training or you can stay at the hotel and do your homework and study for that test coming up.”

You grimace at your options, not really like either of them. Before you can formulate your decision, your mom interjects, “And yes, you would actually have to do homework. Phil agreed to stay back with you of that’s what you choose.”

“Like a babysitter?” You scoff.

“No,” Christen calmly states. “Just someone to make sure you’re actually doing your work. And Phil does have an MD, so he’d probably be able to help you with your biology.”

“I think I’d rather come watch your training,” you decide, wanting to see your moms play, also having some interest in the sport of soccer.

“Awesome!” Tobin grins at you. The forward had been trying to warm you up to the idea of playing soccer, obviously not pushing anything onto you, but she couldn’t be faulted for trying.

“Okay.” Christen nods, putting a hand on her girlfriend’s arm to calm her down. “That means you will have to study and finish your work later.” She gives you a stern look, daring you to protest.

You nod, taking one last bite of your strawberry yogurt and putting the banana peel in the plastic cup.

“Okie dokie. It’s time to go. Let’s get moving.” Tobin slaps the table, getting up from her seat.

After quickly cleaning up breakfast, you follow your moms, along with the rest of the team, onto the bus. Looking down the aisle, you try to find an open seat, knowing your moms sit together.

“(Y/N)!” Emily shouts, waving to you from the back of the bus. “Come sit with us.”

You make your way towards where all the youngsters sat and see that Emily and Lindsey have squished together, making room for you on the aisle seat.

As you plop down, Sonnett rests her hand on your shoulder. “(Y/N), I’m sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have been so nosy. It won’t happen again.”

“Thanks, Em.” You nod, a small smile on your face. “And I’m sorry for snapping and yelling like I did.”

“It’s no problem, (Y/N/N).” Emily grins, ruffling your hair, as she goes back to being her goofy self.

For the rest of the bus ride, you watch and listen to the youngsters antics, ranging from Sam’s terrible puns to Mal’s mediocre rapping. To your surprise, you find yourself having a decent time, glad to be spending time with people somewhat close to your age.

—————

After getting off the bus and arriving to the field, the team slips on their gear and starts warming up. You find a seat on the bench, bundling up in your mom’s puffy jacket.

About an hour and a half later, Vlatko blows his whistle, signaling the official end of practice, but a bunch of the players remain on the field, either getting in some last minute shots or playing a fun game of 1v1 or 2v2.

“Hey, (Y/N/N)!” Lindsey yells from across the field, where her Emily and Mal are playing keep away. “Come join us.”

You glance over to your moms, silently asking for approval, to which they both give you a thumbs up and large grins, encouraging you to go play.

Getting up from the bench, you jog over to the group of younger players.

“So it’s gonna be me and you versus Sonny and Mal. Sound good?” The blonde midfielder asks you, passing the ball to your feet.

All you can do is nod, before Emily is quickly pressuring you, almost stealing the ball. Trying to remember a move you’ve seen Tobin do a million times before, you roll the ball out in front of you, baiting the blonde defender, and then quickly slip it through Sonnett’s legs, passing it to Lindsey.

“Wooooo!” Tobin cheers from behind you. “Nice move, kiddo!”

“You taught her well, babe,” Christen gushes to her girlfriend, bumping their shoulders.

For a second, all Emily can do is stand in disbelief. “I can’t believe you just megged me, (Y/N/N). How could you do that to me?” She gasps, feigning offense, as she puts her hand on her chest.

Rolling your eyes, you playfully shove the older woman. “Don’t be so dramatic, Sonny.”

As the four of you continue your game of keep away, you can’t help but love the way the ball feels at your feet and the way you have complete control over it. The control and freedom of the game feels nice, practically foreign.

Lindsey makes a pass to you, splitting the two defenders. Once you receive the ball, Emily is, once again, quickly on your back, but this time, as you hold the ball away from her, shielding it with your body, she can’t control her momentum and crashes into you.

You fall to the ground with a huff, feeling the wind knocked out of you, as you’re not really used to the physicality of soccer. Rolling over so you can sit up, you grimace. “Ouch.”

“Oh, come on, (Y/N/N),” Emily chuckles, as she moves to stand over you, holding out her arm to help you up. “That tackle wasn’t that hard, probably didn’t even hurt at all. Don’t be such a baby.”

The words ring in your head, triggering old memories of the man who called himself your father. ‘Don’t be such a baby,’ he’d say whenever you whined about something, even though that was to be expected of a five year old. ‘Don’t be such a baby,’ he’d say as he slapped or kicked you. ‘Don’t be such a baby,” he’d say when you told him about the bullies at school. ‘Don’t be such a baby,’ he’d say, and so you didn’t, at least you tried.

As you ground yourself back in the present moment, you to catch your breath, as you gasp for air. The rage ultimately consumes you, as your blinded by the pent up anger and resentment you held towards your father.

You abruptly push yourself up off the ground and get in Emily’s face. “Don’t talk to me like that!” You grit between your teeth.

“Woah, (Y/N).” Emily backs away from you, holding her hands up in innocence. “Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” You yell, pushing the other woman’s shoulders, causing her to stumble backwards.

“Alright, (Y/N/N).” Lindsey quickly moves in between the two of you. “You’re okay.” She tries to calm you down, but to no avail.

Tobin and Christen, hearing the commotion and your yelling, run over to you and gently but firmly grab you, pulling you away from the blonde defender.

“Come on, (Y/N),” Christen scolds. “We’re going back to the hotel. Now.”

The three of you make your way towards one of the team vans, your moms deciding it would be better than to ride back on the bus with the rest of the team.

During the ride back to the hotel, a tense silence hung in the air. You still hadn’t cooled off, your fists clenched and your knees bouncing. Though your mom was upset by your behavior, she couldn’t help but worry, stealing glances at you in the rear view mirror.

The elevator ride is much more of the same, no one daring to speak until you’re in the privacy of the hotel room. Even as you enter the room and take a seat on your bed across from your parents, you’re still silent, waiting for your moms to yell at you.

Tobin waits, her eyes darting between her daughter and her girlfriend, as she knows Christen is usually the disciplinary out of the two of them. Christen, herself, is choosing her words wisely, not wanting her frustration to boil over.

“(Y/N),” your mom begins her scolding. “That behavior is absolutely unacceptable! It’s one thing to be getting into fights at school, but here, at our workplace and with our teammates, that won’t be tolerated.”

You hang your head, as you fidget with your fingers, feeling ashamed and embarrassed.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, sweetie,” Christen gently directs. Lifting your head, you meet the looks of both your moms, and you can’t stop the guilt from bubbling in your chest.

“I’m sorry, moms,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you, or disappoint you.”

“Thank you for your apology.” Your moms move to seat on either side of you.

“We forgive you, kiddo.” Tobin says, taking your hand in hers. “But we’re worried about you. And until you talk to us and tell us what’s going on, we can’t help you and that’s all we want to do.”

You slightly shake your head in disbelief. “Why?”

“What?” Your ma furrows her brows, confused.

“Why do you wanna help me?” You say a little louder, getting frustrated by the thoughts in your own head. After having to fend for yourself for so long, the thought of depending on others was still difficult for you to accept.

“Because we care, (Y/N). We love you,” Christen cries, as her voice cracks, and she rubs your back soothingly.

“Well I don’t need your help!” You exclaim angrily, shaking off your moms hands, as you stand up from the bed to turn to face them.

At your outburst, Christen’s heart breaks with the weight of defeat. Taking a deep breath, trying to compose herself, her face hardens.

“Watch your tone when you speak to us,” your mom sternly states, her eyes telling you that she’s not messing around. “You’re going to stay in this room and finish your homework and study for your test. No TV, no phone, nothing but your school work. Got it?”

You nod, gulping down the knot in your throat, as tears burn your eyes.

“Hand over the phone, kiddo.” Tobin holds her hand out and gives you a sympathetic smile.

Reaching into your back pocket, you pull out your phone and and place it into your moms open hand.

“We’ll leave you to it.” Christen moves closer to you, before kissing your forehead. “We love you, (Y/N/N), and that’s why we’re doing this.”

All you can do is watch as your moms exit the room, Tobin grabbing the television remotes on her way out. Sighing, you plop down on the bed and run your hand through your hair.

For a second, you contemplate just taking a nap and not doing any of your work, but you knew if you did that, your moms would be even more upset, and you did’t want to test that.

So, you unwillingly sit down at the desk and pull out your laptop and notebooks, starting with your history homework.

—————

After about two hours, you’d completed all your homework and started reviewing for your biology test. It wasn’t that school was hard or that you had trouble understanding the material, it was just that you did’t like doing the monotonous work. You never really saw the point in doing homework if you already understood the concepts.

You check the clock and notice it’s 6 o’clock, almost dinner time. Sitting up straight, you stretch arch forward, stretching your back and lifting your arms.

You wonder what your moms wanted you to do for dinner, but seeing as you had no way to contact them, you decide just to quickly grab something from the team’s buffet and pray they don’t see you. However, you have a feeling they wouldn’t be too upset at you for not staying in the room if you were getting food, but you knew you’d pushed the envelope earlier, so you honestly didn’t know what to expect.

Quietly closing the door behind you, you quickly make your way down the hall towards the elevator. Just as you’re about to turn the corner, you hear your mom’s voice.

“I just don’t know what to do. I mean she’s never really opened up to us that much, but she’s never resorted to violence.”

Immediately you press yourself against the wall, hiding yourself but also so you can hear what they’re gonna say.

“Well, I don’t know if you can keep bringing her to camp anymore, especially if she’s gonna act like that.” You hear Megan’s voice echo in the hallway, and you feel a pit form in your stomach.

“Hey,” Tobin protests, coming to your defense. “(Y/N)’s a good kid. I think she’s just been through some stuff, but I think she enjoys coming to camp and hanging out with the team, even maybe playing soccer.”

You fondly smile, hearing your ma defend you to her good friend, even when you weren’t there.

“I think I’m gonna run up some dinner to her after we eat,” Christen says, worry evident in her voice. “I may have been too harsh on her.”

“Babe, it’s a tough situation, but I think you handled it very well,” Tobin tries to ease her girlfriend’s concerns.

“Hey, why don’t I bring her her dinner and maybe talk to her a little?” Ashlyn offers. “I mean I just thought I might be able to get through to her, maybe even share some of my own experiences with her.”

“That’d be great, Ash, thanks.” You see your mom, but you can hear the smile in her voice.

You don’t hear the rest of the conversation, as you turn around and quickly make your way back to your room, now that you know Ash is bringing you some food.

—————

It was about an hour later when you hear a knock on the door. “Hey, (Y/N), it’s Ashlyn. I brought you some dinner.”

Getting up from the desk, you go to open the door, revealing the blonde goalkeeper holding a plate of food. “Hey, Ash. Thanks for the food.”

“Can I come in?”

You bite your lip, weighing your options. “Yeah, sure.” Opening the door wider, you move to let her in.

Following her into the room, you place your plate on the desk, after moving your work to the side. You sit down to start eating, when you notice that Ashlyn is still watching you from the end of your bed.

“Ummm,” you mumble awkwardly. “Was there something you wanna talk about?” You ask, even though you already had a good idea as to where this conversation was heading.

Ash takes a deep breath before talking. “Look, (Y/N), I’m just gonna be straight up with you. I know about the fight you had at school, and I saw what happened at dinner last night, and I saw the almost fight you had with Sonnett today at practice. And I know that you’re not that kid, because I’ve heard what your moms have had to say about you.

“But I also know that this aggression, this anger, that you have, it’s not healthy. I don’t know if it’s some pent up shit or if it’s something you’re going through currently, but whatever it is that’s bothering you, it’s not gonna go away if you keep it to yourself.

“And honestly, I should know because I’ve dealt with some tough shit that life’s dealt me, but you know what? I didn’t get through that alone, and neither will you. But luckily, you have two amazing and supportive moms that are there for you, and will support and love you, but only if you let them. You even have all of us because this team is a family, and so now you’re part of that.

“So basically, I’m just here if you wanted to talk. It doesn’t even have to be about school or what’s been happening. Could be about anything: your favorite food, the stupid biology test I heard you’ve been studying for, Tobin’s weird obsession with using the same three emojis, Christen’s morning routine, whatever you want, I’m here.”

During Ashlyn’s speech, a whirl of emotions circulate your body, but most of all, you feel warm. You feel warm knowing you have people in your corner rooting for you, something you weren’t entirely familiar with before.

Almost as if the older woman’s words had knocked down a damn, your eyes flood with tears, sobs wrecking your body.

“I just— I’ve never had anybody who— They were always so mean— I could never say anything— I didn’t want—,” you gasp, struggling to breath with the intensity of your crying.

“Shhhhh, it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. Everything’s gonna be okay,” Ash coos, as she wraps her arms around you, allowing you to cry into her chest.

After a couple of minutes, after your tears have subsided and your breathing’s evened out, you sniffle, pulling out of the goalie’s embrace.

“I didn’t really have the best childhood growing up with my biological family, you know, before Tobin and Christen,” you begin to explain the shortened and simplified version of your story.

“My parents weren’t the best, actually they were the worst,” you say with a chuckle, knowing that was an understatement. “The kids at school, Emily at the dinner table and at practice, it’s all just a trigger, reminding me of things my parents used to do and say. I guess, when I was younger, I never really processed what happened, so now, I just react with all this anger that I have for my parents.”

“(Y/N).” Ashlyn squeezes your shoulder. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I really think that if you talked to Tobin and Christen and opened up to them, even if it’s just what they told me, they’d still love you and support you.”

“Really?” You ask, uncertain.

“Mhmm,” she hums. “As much as it would calm their worrying, and you know how much Chris can worry sometimes,” the two of you share a laugh at that, “I think that this is something you need as well: to have parents in your life who will actually be parents for you, who will guide you, support you, love and care for you, tell you when you’re being stupid, give you advice, let you make bad decisions because that’s how you’ll learn, let you be your true self. I think, deep down, that that’s something you truly want.”

You follow her words and nod. “Yeah,” you sigh. “I do want that.”

Ashlyn gives you a soft smile, as she stands up from the bed. “How about I go get your moms and you guys can talk?”

“That’d be great,” you agree. Just as Ash’s about to leave, you call out to her, “And Ash?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” You give her a sincere smile, trying to convey your gratitude.

Ashlyn just nod with a grin, receiving your message, before leaving the room and shutting the door behind her.

—————

After Ash left, you started to pace around the room, nerves fluttering in your stomach, as you were mentally rehearsing what you were gonna say to your moms.

About ten minutes later, a knock on the door interrupts your thoughts. “Sweetie,” you hear Christen’s muffled voice. “Can we come in?”

“Yeah,” you call back, resuming your pacing, as the two women enter the room.

“Hey, kiddo.” Tobin approaches you. “Ash said you wanted to talk to us?”

“Yeah.” You take a deep breath and shake your hands, ridding yourself of the nerves. As you sit down on the bed, both of your moms take a seat opposite you on the other bed.

“I just wanted to explain some stuff to you guys, tell you my story or whatever, you know, all that jazz,” you stammered awkwardly.

“(Y/N/N), we don’t want you to feel pressured to tell us anything if you’re not ready,” Christen assures.

“No, I need to share this with you. I want to,” you insist, adamantly shaking your head.

“Okay, we’re here for you.” Tobin nods, giving you an encouraging smile.

You take another deep breath before diving into the story of your life. “As you obviously know, my biological parents weren’t really fit for raising a child, which is why you adopted me, but you already knew that.”

You run your hands through your hair, as this was proving to be more difficult than you thought. But looking at the warm and understanding eyes of your moms, you push through.

“My parents, especially my father, were abusive, both verbally and physically. It started as early as I can remember. They would always be calling me names and insulting me if I didn’t do things correctly, even for the tiniest mistakes like leaving the toothpaste on the counter.

“Growing up with that and hearing it everyday, I started to believe it. I thought I was useless and stupid, a no good child, those words ingrained in my mind. But I was taught not to show any emotions. ‘Don’t be such a baby’ is what they’d always say to me.

“So, I learned to hide it all, even if that meant keeping it all to myself. I guess that’s why I’ve been acting out recently; it’s all bubbling over, exploding out of me.”

You quickly glance at your moms, scanning their faces for any hints of disgust or anger, but all you can see is empathy and sadness.

“I didn’t tell you this, but I guess I should’ve: the kids at school bully me, calling me names, insulting me, and sometimes even kicking me. Sometimes, they even talk about you two, why you’re together or why you would adopt someone like me.

“At dinner yesterday, Emily just kept pushing me to talk, which I’ve never really encountered before, and I was really uncomfortable, so I just snapped. And at training, she said ‘don’t be such a baby’ after she’d tackled me, and those words triggered all those memories of my father, and all that anger and hatred I have for him just came out.

Hanging your head, tears falling down your cheeks, you bite your trembling lip. “I know that doesn’t excuse my behavior, and I accept my punishments, but I just thought you should know my past, especially because your my moms and I’m your daughter.”

Through the blur of the pools in your eyes, you see your moms giving you a sad, fond smile.

Sniffling, you choke back a sob. “I’m sorry I’m not the perfect daughter you guys wanted, but I love you, moms.”

Tobin and Christen immediately move to either side of you, wrapping you up in their arms and rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“Oh, (Y/N/N),” Christen whispers, kissing your temple. “Sweetie, will you look at me.”

Lifting your head from the crook of her neck, you meet her teary eyes.

“(Y/N), we don’t want a perfect daughter. We want you, every single part of you, even the most scarred and damaged parts of you, because you know what?” She brushes loose hair out of your face.

“Hmm?”

“All those parts of you are what make you you. (Y/N), you are an incredibly intelligent, kind, caring, and beautiful soul, even with all your scars.”

“Don’t forget talented!” Tobin chirps from next to you. “I saw that nutmeg earlier today.” She smirks, as she gives you a knowing look, causing you all to share a wet chuckle.

“Thanks, moms.” You lean your head against Tobin’s shoulder and hold Christen’s hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “I’m so grateful for you, moms. I love you guys.”

“We love you, too, kiddo.” Your ma leans down to kiss the top of your head, as Christen lovingly snuggles against your side, humming in agreement.

“And just know that if you ever need to talk to anybody or just need a shoulder to lean or cry on, we’re always here for you.”

You nod against her shoulder and close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of contentment and warmth, the feeling of home that you found between the love of your moms.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #preath x reader #preath x daughter!reader #uswnt #tobin heath #christen press #preath

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theonetheycallhannah · 3 years

Text

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 20: Second Assist

Characters: Captain Logan “Sy” Syverson, Shane Benton (OFC), various other original supporting/secondary characters

Summary: Shane reunites with friends and family, hashes out some feelings, and gets real with Sy. Can their relationship survive her trauma? And the threat that still looms above them?

Romance and Smut Abound HERE!

Word Count: 4500

Warnings: Mention of rape, alcoholic beverages, violent imagery…feels out the butt.

Author’s Note: You guys are so splendid and beautiful! I can’t thank you enough for your support and encouragement to finish this piece. First, welcome to new readers! I know poor Henry’s injury and subsequent physiotherapy has driven some of you here, and while I’m sorry for him, I’m glad I can consider myself something of a pioneer in this particular genre and provide you some help for your newfound thirst. To my OG readers, it is to you I owe this entire work, parts written and incomplete, and I hope an eventual book deal. I mean to mention you in my acknowledgements, should this ever reach a willing publisher. You’ve inspired me so supremely that I cannot quantify it, even with the words I hold so dear.

Since my last chapter was posted, we’ve said a relieved goodbye to 2020 and a tentative hello to 2021. To be honest, this year has started out worse than last year. Lots of bad weather in my area this winter, my sister is currently on her way to a new life in another state, and my grandmother, the last grandparent I had, passed away in February. Those last two things have been especially difficult to shake off and recover from, both coming to fruition pretty suddenly. Amongst all that, I’ve been pretty distracted by my other fandoms, especially Marvel, and I’ve been reading a killer book series that I’m utterly in love with. (The Throne of Glass novels by Sarah J. Maas. 10/10 recommend.) But I knew I needed to get back into Shane and Sy’s story, especially given the new and rekindled interest in the subject matter. In all honesty, I’ve had most of it written for months. It’s just been a matter of finishing it off to set up the rest of the story.

I really hope you all enjoy Chapter 20, Second Assist, and would love your feedback and notes. You are all so important to this story, and your notes, reblogs, and comments are cherished. Thank you so much for reading! Love from Hannah!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism. This is an original work by me, Hannah. Please reblog if you wish to share. Please do not repost either in whole or part, as the work of anyone but myself. Thanks so much for reading!

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X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Shane woke in her warm bed, late morning sun streaming in through her sheer curtains, the heavier drapes parted to let in the light. She wished she'd remembered to close them before now. She really was not ready to be awake.

She was sore. Achy. Her sleep had been fitful and full of shadowy nightmares and muffled screams. Beyond that, she didn't try to remember images or events. She knew the general premise of the dreams. It would take a lot of time, effort, or a miracle to make her forget those traumas she'd been through in the last week. Not even forget. She knew she never would. But move on from them. Accept them. And heal from them…even that seemed a mighty obstacle. One she was not sure she could surmount.

Through the open bedroom door, she could hear Lynyrd Skynyrd and the clanging and sizzling of pans, and she could smell bacon and freshly brewed coffee. Sy had left the room, but had not, it seemed, gone far. She gingerly sat up, stood from the bed, and donned her robe as she walked out into the hall and down the corridor to the kitchen.

The sight before her warmed her heart. There was Sy. In only his boxers, daringly frying the notoriously dangerous breakfast meat. Upon her entry to the kitchen, she could also smell pancakes, and she thought syrup, as well. He seemed to be warming a bottle of the maple unction in a pot of hot water. He turned as she stepped on a squeaky floorboard, and grinned widely at her.

"Mornin' sunshine." And she was struck by the irony of someone with such a radiant smile calling her sunshine. Especially when she didn't feel much like beaming. But she couldn't help return the expression, even through her pain.

"Mornin' bear. Did you go to the store?" She knew she couldn't have any bacon in her fridge, and she doubted her eggs and milk were still good at this point. But she also couldn't think that he would leave her for any reason.

"Nah, some of the guys brought over some provisions. Matt worked on your car all night, too, and filled up the tank. It's as good as new. He and Nate brought ‘er over as well as the groceries. I just had ‘em get stuff I knew your family wouldn't be bringing later. They've had tons of food given to them this week, and they're ready to share. You should have seen your mom loading me down with sandwiches and chips and whatnot when I visited them."

"I still can't believe you met them. I really wanted to introduce you personally." Shane's face fell. She would never be able to get that back. She wanted to cry. Sy had poured her a cup of coffee and sat it in front of her with her favorite creamer.

"Darlin' I’m so sorry. I had to talk to them."

"I know." she sniffed. "I'm not mad. Not at you. Just…"she didn't want to say Elliott's name. "I'm disappointed that the experience was stolen from me." That so many things had been stolen from her. By that monster. There was no other way to describe him. Sy growled. As if he could read her mind. He really just knew her well enough and shared her thoughts.

"Well, don't worry, we'll have a nice dinner with them one of these days, and we can pretend. Sound good?"

"Yeah, and I can feign nervousness." she laughed.

"And I'll pretend too. That I'm scared to meet your dad." he chuckled. "What if he threatens me with his shotgun?"

"I'll pull the ol' 'Daddy, no, I loooooove him!' line, as I throw myself between you!"

"That oughta work." he laughed and kissed her on the forehead as he stepped toward the stove and flipped a pancake.

As they sat eating their late breakfast, Shane's mind wandered. Nothing had changed on the surface, but everything was different now. This cozily mundane breakfast with her boyfriend felt like an out of body experience. As delicious as it was, as wonderful and comforting as it should feel, her guard was up. Even through her amiable façade. She was not the person she was two weeks ago. She was not the same woman who said goodbye to Sy at the base. Maybe that was the real transformation. Maybe that was why nothing felt normal. It wasn't the world, but her own self coming back into it.

"Shane?" Sy asked, gently, but it felt like he was speaking through a megaphone directly into her ear. She was so startled, she nearly dropped the half full mug of coffee that was paused midway to her lips. A bit sloshed out onto the table and splashed her shirt.

"Shit!" she chided herself. It wasn't a big deal, but she felt stupid jumping at the sound of her own name.

Sy reached for the closest towel, hanging from the oven handle, grabbed it and started for her clothes with it. She stopped him. But she couldn't think about why the intimate act made her uncomfortable.

"No, don't, it's fine. These clothes have seen better days, anyway." She pulled the towel from him and began to mop up the small puddles of coffee around her plate.

Sy seemed to note the stains already present on the shirt, as if trying to divine their history. She was something of a messy eater, so the battle wounds of many a barbecue, spaghetti dinner, and hurried breakfast peppered the now off-white SATB club tee she'd gotten her second or third year in college choir. She thought back to a huge room with high ceilings. White, cinder block walls, flecked tile floors, a beautiful, glossy, black baby grand in front of a long whiteboard with black lines to resemble sheet music. She thought about the mnemonic device she'd learned to help her remember what notes appeared on each line, and in the spaces between them. She pondered the deeper meanings and implications of these devices. EGBDF…every good boy does fine. She thought about the "good boys" in her life. She knew many. Her dad, her brother Ethan, Sy, obviously, her many male coworkers and friends…and honestly they did far better than "fine." They were wonderful. But she was letting the "bad boys" she'd encountered dictate her mood. Permeate her psyche. Tear her down. She didn't want to be like this. Then FACE came to mind, and above their purpose of indicating the notes between the lines on the staff, they called her to action. To face these newly minted demons with all the strength she knew she possessed, and she too would "do fine." But as with almost all actions, this was easier said than done.

She felt a warm presence on her left hand which had paused it's torture of the now coffee-infused kitchen towel. Sy's hand was squeezing hers gently.

"Shane." he uttered, barely above a whisper this time. She looked at him through tears that she had not realized had formed. He continued.

"Shane, what can I do, darlin'? I'll do anything."

"Babe, you're doing everything you can, and more. This…this is all going to have to come from me. I…don't know when I'll be myself again…" she paused, tears streaming now. "I'm…I'm different."

"You're not though." he reached for her face, but she pulled away.

"I am, damn it! Sy, I was…" Words had power. And the one she was thinking of had more power than she thought was warranted. She knew that uttering it would take away it's power…and yet mustering the courage and strength to actually do so…seemed impossible. She took a deep breath, and disassociated herself from the statement, even though it was about her own past.

"I was raped." She refused to cry. She felt it all again. She had never said the words. She had never thought it necessary. Everyone understood. Sy, his friends, and she was sure her own loved ones had made the connection. But she knew she needed to say it now to drive home the points she was about to make.

Sy, looked at the table, nodding, not needing to be told in so many words something he already had surmised from the clear evidence. He remained silent. She went on.

"I love you, Sy. I have since the day we met, on one level or another, and I believe that I always will. But I…right now I can't be a proper girlfriend to you. I can't…be with you, touch you, be touched by you, in the way we used to be. In the way you deserve…and I don't know when…or even if…I ever will. Not that I don't want to. That's ALL I want in the world. To go back. To be the woman who fell in love with this…incredible man. To make love with you, but…I can't."

Sy's eyes were full of tears, their predecessors already descending his round cheeks and disappearing into his thick, dark beard.

"Sy, I don't want to lead you on and keep you tied to a relationship with no life in it. You deserve someone who's whole. Someone who can be a fully invested partner for you, and not this broken, damaged--"

"You stop that, Shane. I won't hear no more of this kinda talk. Y'hear? You're my girl. My woman. My person. No matter what. You gotta know I'd never leave ya just cuz you aren't ready for sex again. You don't think that I would, do ya?"

"Well, you went to Virginia…you took that job…knowing the distance it would put between us. Literally and figuratively."

"Biggest mistake of my life." Shane raised her eyebrows in surprise as Sy elaborated. "I couldn't focus on my classes without wishing you were there. Wishing I could team up with you for discussions and hand to hand combat training…that thought got me a little too excited, if you catch my drift." He smirked, pulling a sheepish smile from Shane. "Then in that forest. I dreamt about you every night. I thought of you constantly. I could barely breath sometimes, I missed ya so damned much. I was an idiot. I was insane to think that I needed anything other than you. Any MORE. There IS no more. You're it. You're the MOST! The most important thing in my life."

The declaration hung like vapors in the air, more felt than seen. Tangible yet ethereal.

"And when I found out that you were missing…I was…well, I think I looked like death…and not warmed over. You can ask the program director I met with after I got the news. She could tell I was just sick over it. And as I thought about it on the way home, pieced things together, started thinking about who'd taken you, I got murderous. Shane, I have been in dozens of battles, skirmishes, firefights, you name it. War. But…the sheer bloodlust I felt thinking about what you could be going through…I've never experienced anything like it. Everything was red. Everything. For days. Until I saw you, alive. And then it went red again when I saw the fear and damage on your face." she could tell he was doing his best not to talk about the farmhouse and that basement, but she still flashed back to the moments before and after his appearance there. The moments when she simultaneously prayed to live and hoped to die.

"You don't owe me anything, Shane. I just want you in my life, and I don't care what your presence looks like. Romantic, platonic, or somewhere in between. I'm here for you. And I wouldn't have it any other way."

Shane felt the urge to wrap her arms around her boyfriend, but could not seem to move more than one arm to place her other hand on top of his. She hoped the gratitude and love behind the small, but heartfelt gesture landed. It was all she had in that moment, no matter how abundant her affection.

~~~~~~~~~~

Shane's family's arrival was a complete blur to her. It was joyous, tearful, and the happiest she'd been in a long time. The moment she opened the front door for them, she was surrounded, engulfed with hugs from her parents and siblings. They stood in their affectionate huddle for several moments before Peg waved Sy over with marked insistence. He'd been standing by, observing happily, but not wanting to intrude on the familial reunion.

When they finally dispersed, John asked the two younger men to help him bring in groceries. The women headed into Shane's bedroom for a more private setting in which to talk. Shane filled her mother and sister in the best she could given the rawness of the wounds left on her mind by the events.

She leaned against the headboard cuddling with Gabby while her mom rubbed her feet. She had insisted on doing this thing that had always comforted her children, and made them feel much better when they were younger.

"Well, I'm very proud of you, pumpkin." The girls both looked at their mother, who rather uncharacteristically hadn't spoken in some time. Shane was nonplussed. Peg elaborated.

"You survived something that many women don't. You're talking about it now, which even more women don't. You may think you're broken, but you're just a tree damaged by a storm, but standing stronger than ever." Trust her mom to lay such wisdom on her. When she felt like giving up. When she just wanted pity. When she could only see defeat. Her mother had always found a way to encourage and buoy her and show her the victory.

"Mom's right." Gabby affirmed, and it was Peg's turn to be nonplussed, as the two women, though similar in so many ways, never seemed to see eye to eye. "It's true. Shane I've seen a lot of women come into the clinic in shoes very much like yours. And trust me…some of them…they don't make it to this point. You've got a long way to go before you're fully recovered, don't get me wrong, but you'll get there. You have us. And you have Sy."

"And then there's Sy." She diverted. "How am I supposed to plan any sort of future with him when…" She looked at her mom, and hesitated. Peg rolled her eyes.

"Shane, I know what the two of you get up to when you're alone. You don't have to be shy with me."

"Still…" she took a breath and spoke. "When I can't bring myself to…sleep with him?"

"Look at him, you're kidding, right?" Gabby chided, insensitively, but recanted at the pained expression on Shane's face. "Sorry, sis. Trying to lighten the mood a touch. Too soon. But seriously, I don't think this reluctance you feel will be permanent."

"And even if it is," Peg took over, "that man is out-of-his-mind in love with you, Shaney." She kissed Shane's toe before putting a sock on her foot. "He almost seems to worship you. Now, you know how I feel about using that term outside of religious context, but that is exactly the kind of love I want for you. Devout, and unconditional."

"But, mom, I can't--"

"Did you hear me? I said 'unconditional,' sweetie." Peg interrupted. "No matter what. No matter the obstacle. No matter the distance. No matter the circumstances. Love unwavering. That's what Sy has for you. I've seen it in him. Trust the momma."

The insistence her mother placed on trust had always ruffled Shane's feathers. Gabby's too, who she could feel stiffen slightly beside her. But Shane, for once, really wanted to trust her mother, hoping against hope that she was right. And that she, herself wouldn't screw up the best relationship she had ever been in or was likely to ever be in again.

The girls had begun talking about some of the coworkers who'd brought food in the past week, and Peg couldn't resist remarking on the character of her favorites and judging the ones she didn't care for…oddly enough, getting more or less, the correct measure of them, as Shane saw it.

After what must have been an hour from the time they'd arrived, they heard a knock on the slightly ajar bedroom door. John poked his head in.

"Ladies, we've put a casserole in the oven, and completed various manly projects around the house--"

"Oh, daddy, what projects?" She cringed. She hated that the men had felt the need to "fix" things.

"Babe, your guest bathroom had not one, but two leaky faucets, your kitchen table seemed to be more of a teeter-totter, and half the light bulbs in the living room were out. Among other tiny things. You're welcome." he smirked his crooked smirk so similar to her own, and she returned it as if he was looking in a mirror.

"Thanks, dad."

"Anyway, lunch is almost ready. So, when you've finished your confab, let's eat."

Dinner passed amiably, Shane found a reserve within herself to allow some quasi-normal behavior, as long as you didn’t look too closely. She was talking animatedly with her siblings, making their parents and Sy laugh riotously. Shane noticed some odd looks passing between Sy and her father, but chalked it up to paranoia. She wished at least Gabby and Ethan could stay, but Heather would be over soon, and she deserved her own dedicated time. Shane wanted to give that to her.

She said her farewells to her family with promises to visit them the next day, and at least one more time before her siblings went back home, if she could work it out.

Sy was so wonderful the whole time. Standing by her, a hand resting lightly on her shoulder as they waved goodbye to the departing vehicle. He made her feel so safe. They went into the kitchen and cleaned up from lunch. Well, Sy cleaned. Shane was texting Heather about when she'd be over.

"Heather says she'll be here in about a half hour. She's picking up wine and pizza." Shane told Sy without looking up from her phone. She could see out of the corner of her eye, though, that he had just closed the dishwasher and was selecting a cycle.

"Sounds great. Do you want me to get out of here? Give you guys some time, one on one?" He asked as he dried his hands, wet from preparing dishes for the machine.

She thought about it, and shuddered. She played a scene in her head that startled her. In her mind's eye, she saw Sy leave and then moments later heard a knock on the door. Presuming it was Heather, she opened the door with abandon, only to see Elliott standing there under a flickering porch light, smirking maliciously at her and ready to overpower and abduct her again. She shook the thought from her head, but remained uneasy as she answered his question.

"Uh, no. Thanks. I'm sure she'll want to talk to both of us. She likes you." Shane grinned softly at Sy in an attempt to mask her trepidation over the thought of him leaving her alone for any period of time. She thought it had worked.

"Okay, well, whatever you think, sunshine. I don't wanna get in the way." He was wiping down the countertops. She felt so impossibly full of love for him, she was starting to wonder how she hadn't yet burst with it. She couldn't bear the thought of holding him back from a fulfilling relationship. He deserved everything she couldn't give him right now. And she knew she should make him leave her. Cut him loose. But she was, as she'd been since she'd met him, a weak woman. She couldn't stand the thought of being without him. Of him no longer being hers. And somehow worse, of not being his, herself. She would always need him for so many reasons, not least of which being her love for him. Maybe one day, she'd recover from this trauma, and be able to be who he deserved. To give him what he needed.

"You're never in the way, bear." She walked up behind him, wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed him as tight as she could. He placed a loving hand over hers, sighing and smiling, though she had no visual proof of the latter. It was just a feeling.

Heather's greeting was no less exuberant than that of Shane's family, but it was more joyful and less emotional, even though she was immensely relieved to see her best friend after so long. They talked as if no time had passed, and Shane mustered up the dregs of her former self to have one more interaction for the day. Thank God it was Heather and not someone who would require more. She wouldn't have it to give.

"I am so glad you're okay, Shane! Things around the clinic have been bleak as fuck. Susan is loosing her mind, Anita is beside herself with concern, and the rest of us just plain ol' miss the hell out of you. And not just because of all of the overtime everyone has been pulling to get your patients seen."

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry! I didn't realize…wow, I'm awful. I didn't even think---"

"That you'd be missed? Think again, sister. The place would fall apart if you ever really left. But don't feel guilty. It's the least everyone can do, and they've all said it themselves. We all love you, and know that you'd do the same for any of us if you could at all. Hopefully you won't have to, though!"

Shane nodded, eyes wide in agreement. She wouldn't wish the last week of her life on her worst enemy. On the worst person in the world. Except maybe the people responsible. Tit for tat.

"Well, I'm sorry my absence has caused extra work for all of you." Shane looked into the deep glass of Chardonnay Sy had poured her from the bottle Heather had brought. She felt about as small as the air bubble making it's way up the sloping curve of the stemless vessel. She felt a guilt that she knew was fully void of logic. It made no sense for her to feel guilt for being kidnapped. But she had always had this notion, this nagging voice in her head that told her that her misfortunes were a direct result of her decisions. That she'd inadvertently stepped on the butterfly that resulted in the monsoon she was currently experiencing, and whatever cataclysmic events she would face next.

"Why in God's name are you apologizing for this, Shay?" Heather's tone was kind, but still mildly scolding.

"If I'd never been with Elliott, none of this would have--"

"Bitch, are you a fortune teller?"

"No, but--"

"Soothsayer?"

"No."

"Time traveler?"

"I wish!" Shane chuckled. But she really did wish.

"Have you any real and proven success at consistently predicting the future?"

"I don't, but--"

"No. No buts. No howevers. You had no idea what becoming involved with Elliott could have done. Were there signs, sure. But you can't look on the past as a rubric to judge the quality of your decisions. You know that. You can only learn from your mistakes. And you have."

"Heather's right, sunshine. You really have learned. You look for Elliott's behaviors in mine and shut me down quick if you see 'em. You're not going to let yourself go down that road again. And I'm proud of you for it."

Shane silently worried her wine glass. It was hard to argue with such truth. But it was hard to agree when her own feelings were in such stark opposition. So she did neither.

"Well, I've preached my sermon for the day." she laughed. "I've taken up enough of your time. Oh, your phone. It's in my purse. I think it's fully charged, but I turned it off."

Shane thanked her friend, then Heather hugged them both and took her leave.

"Y'okay, bug?" Sy asked her after what she surmised was several minutes of silence. Minutes she didn't notice as they passed.

"Mmm…" she trailed off.

"Can I do something for ya?" And she really thought about the question. He could probably do a lot of things for her. He could make love to her until she felt whole again, even if it hurt her at first. Not an ideal option. He could probably get them both some new identities and enough money to spirit her away to somewhere her past wouldn't follow. If she became someone new, literally, would she have to bring that old baggage, those old scars, with her? Again, suboptimal. But he could definitely take the source of all grief and turmoil in her life far into the Missouri back country, somewhere not even the hunters would venture, some fallow field or forgotten cistern, and end him. Snuff out his spark of life like a candle caught in a tornado. Spill a fatal amount of his monstrous blood onto the unforgiving earth and send him to the Hell to which he was undoubtedly destined. But did she want that? Did she want another soul as a scar on that of the man she so deeply cherished? He'd say it was worth it. He'd say he'd take a thousand more for her. A million. That was Sy.

"Nothing comes to mind." She lied. And he knew it was a lie, but didn't push it. She was so grateful that he respected her, not for the lie itself, but for the reason she wasn't giving him the whole truth just now.

His phone went off and he picked it up as he stood from his seat at the table. She could only hear that it was Matt, the guy she thought she understood had the car place, before she heard tension in Sy's voice. Even from the next room, she could tell something was wrong, though he was talking too quietly for her to make out words.

She heard him suddenly shout a stream of profanities that he rarely said at all around her, at least, let alone together. There was a bang, and the walls of her kitchen quaked like the tectonic plates beneath them were shifting.

Sy walked back in, his face was red, as were his knuckles. He was shaking an injury out of his hand.

"What's wrong?" she asked, deep concern at his appearance and demeanor, suddenly ominous.

"I need to fix your wall in there." he grumbled, evading, without success. She'd be doing therapy on his hand, next.

"What's really wrong?" she repeated, sternly.

"That was Matt. Elliott's…escaped, somehow. He's in the wind."

Shane's heart became so heavy, she could almost feel it smashing through the kitchen floor and burying itself deep in the cement floor of her basement.

"Oh, God! No! What if he goes to the police!?"

"Fuck that, I'm more concerned about him coming after you!"

The two stared, faces full of equal measures of concern for the other.

Up Next: Chapter 21-Patient Education

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