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red-writes · 3 years

Text

Career oriented

Escort! Bakugou x Reader

Your entire life you've been focused solely on your career, you've sacrificed a lot of things, people and time to get where you are and it’s paid off, now you're a millionaire who is also a virgin and never had a boyfriend in their life. Your friend recommends you a male escort service. At first you hire him to go on dates and do other things couples do but the relationship develops far beyond what you could've imagined, now you're laying under him begging him to be your first.

cw: smut, fluff, unprotected sex, reader is a capitalist lmao, I mean reader is a virgin but its not rlly virginity loss bc its not focused around that but reader does lose her virginity, unedited (but what's new)

a/n: I mean we always hear abt sugar daddies, I need rich reader pls also- monoma is a rich bitch y'all can't fight me on this he got that rich bitch mentality.

The words ‘hard worker’ were understatements when it came to describing you. Pretty much all of your life was spent working, growing your small business with your own two hands. Now money was never an issue. A huge house with several bathrooms, fancy bags and cars, all the things you've ever wanted were now in your possession except maybe one thing. Seeing happy couples holding hands as they walked around in the park, kissing and calling each other pet names, seeing them stirred a feeling of longing inside of you.

While it’s true that now you'd never want for anything else in your life, you still wanted something money couldn't buy you, love.

A small tap to your shoulder brought you out of your daze.

“Your eggs are going to get cold..” Todoroki mentioned and you gave him a small smile before prodding your fork in the perfectly scrambled egg.

“Hey, don't tell me you're thinking about that shareholders meeting this week” Monoma groans and you shake your head.

“Then what is it?” Momo wondered as she wiped her mouth with her napkin.

“It’s just- you guys all have someone you know romantically” you say as you rest your fork on the plate, deciding that you weren't really in the mood to eat anymore.

Monoma scoffs, “Yeah barely...I almost broke up with shinso after that last stunt he pulled in the club”

Momo giggles, “You're still with him?”

His face dusts pink in embarrassment as he looks away, “A-anyway, why don't you try getting an escort” Monoma recommends and it was your turn for your face to warm.

“An e-escort?! You do realize who we are right? If someone in here were to hear us talk about such a thing..” Momo whisper-yells and Todoroki’s eyebrow quirks up

“We all know I met Izuku through a sugar daddy website though-”

You clear your throat, “I’m not necessarily looking for you know..sex...just maybe someone to spend time with Monoma” You clarify and he's rummaging through his pockets to find his phone, he fiddles with it before showing you what the site looks like.

“Duh, escorts just get paid for their time not necessarily sex, I’ll send you the link to the website” He tells you and you sigh thoughtfully, if that was really the case then it wouldn't be so wrong to hire some cute eye candy right?

Momo waves over the waiter, “We’ll have the check please”

“Certainly ma'am”

You sat at your office’s desk with the website pulled up. You'd triple checked to make sure your door was locked, you still had a reputation to uphold as the CEO of your company, you'd be traumatized if one of your employees saw you hiring an escort.

You scrolled through the many many options of guys. Each profile consisted of a headshot of the escort along with a bio that consisted of maybe a paragraph and . You really couldn't find anyone that suited your tastes personally, until your mouse hovered over a blonde guy.

His bio was notably shorter than everyone else’s and in his picture he looked mean, eyebrows furrowed and red eyes staring menacingly at you and yet you found yourself clicking the ‘hire!’ button next to his name. Even though he looked like his favorite hobby was stealing candy from a baby, but his looks (as shallow as that may seem) were really speaking to you and the you between your legs if you were honest.

Bakugou Katsuki huh..well he seemed worth a try.

You had been through countless scenarios were you were rightfully terrified.

Being on a date had to be the scariest out of all of them.

Bakugou was sitting in front of you, he stirred his straw around in his coffee and looked at you while you struggled to contain the rabid beating of your heart in your chest.

“S-So..What- um..-”

“Just relax” He interrupts, his voice sounded so nice, deep and smooth like a rich dark chocolate. It only manages to make you more nervous.

“I’m sorry- I haven't actually done this before” you confess with a nervous chuckle, hands gripping your tea cup brutally.

He gives you this half smile and you're unsure of wether he's actually human or a demi-god at this point. “I can tell, but don't worry there's no reason to be”

You feel slightly comforted by his words and feel yourself let loose a little, “Okay, Bakugou, what do you like to do?” you ask.

“I like going to the gym” he shrugs, “I’m not really Interesting, I’m more curious about you” he says, he places his elbow on the table and rests his chin in the palm of his hand and leans in to you. His skin is so clear- not a blemish in sight and his eyes are practically burning a hole into your soul.

“M-me? I do nothing too important..I like to sew” you respond, taking a sip of your jasmine tea. You didn't necessarily want to tell him about who you were or what you did just yet, money and status only complicate things. For now, you just wanted to be a normal young woman going out on a date.

“Come on, don't be shy, I know there's more to you than sewing” He says, removing the straw from his coffee and placing it on a neighboring napkin.

You bite into your bottom lip, “Well, I honestly don't do much besides work, it’s taken up so much time in my life I can't say I do much else” you admit and Bakugou hums thoughtfully. He doesn't respond for a bit, the sounds of the coffee shop fill the silence instead.

“Okay, I have an idea”

You cock your head to the side curiously.

“Let’s ditch the formalities and go have some real fun, I think its about time you lived your life” he proposes and your mouth hands open. Was he serious? He looked it. You couldn't help the giddy feeling that bubbled up within you, a feeling you hadn't felt in a long time, excitement. It made you feel young again.

“What do you say?”

“Alright!”

The two of you spent all day together, visiting various hidden places around the city, you did shopping and even some sightseeing. For the first time in a while you felt alive, like you were actually a person and not just a unfeeling robot who simply lived to work.

Your last stop was a park. With a large lake in the center Bakugou suggested you guys feed the birds before heading home. With a handful of birdseed you gently sprinkled some into the water and watched the geese gobble it up.

“When I was five, I had a huge fear of geese..” Bakugou admits and you're chuckling.

“No way, really?” you turned to face him and when you do he’s already looking at you, smiling fondly, eyes filled with an emotion that you really couldn't seem to put your finger on.

“What? Do I have something on my face that you're not telling me about?” You pout and he shakes his head before turning his attention back to the birds as he sprinkles more of the food into the lake.

“No, just realized somethin’”

The sun’s beginning to set now, the sky is illuminated by hues of orange and pink. You nudge him with your arm, “Realized what?”

He turns back to face you, there's an adoring look on his face.

“You look pretty when you're having fun”

A look of surprise crosses your features before your ears burn in embarrassment at the sudden compliment, the butterflies in your stomach flutter around more and more the longer you two stare at each other.

“Thanks” You mumble before looking down at your palm full of birdseed.

Dates with Bakugou become more and more frequent after that. The two of you often meeting up more than you meet up with your regular friends. Bakugou doesn't even charge you anymore, even though you've tried to tell him it was fine he still insisted otherwise. The two of you even exchanged numbers and spoke quite often on the phone. Texts like,

‘this song reminded me of you’ and ‘don't work too hard, idiot’ were often exchanged.

After maybe a month of this happening you realized that the warm feeling you got in your chest whenever Bakugou brushed your hair into place or stopped to tie your shoe for you or even when he texted you good morning wasn't because you appreciated him being a good friend, you liked him. It took a month to finally decipher your feelings for him but once you did..what the heck were you supposed to do now?

Never once in your life had you confessed to someone let alone dated them, what would happen to your friendship with Bakugou if things didn't work out? You didn't want to stop being friends with him, you loved being with him, he was the reason you finally started taking breaks and learned to relax.

You had a ton of questions to answer for yourself but you couldn't do it right now, you had a date with Bakugou. He told you to dress up and you weren't sure where you were going but you trusted him to take you somewhere you'd enjoy. Around 8pm like promised, he was there to pick you up. His car was fairly nice, you assumed his high pay rates were being used for something but now you know what. He was wearing a black three piece suit, it was crisp and you could clearly tell it was expensive, his hair was slicked back and he had a single diamond stud in his left ear. He looked damn good. It was making you a little nervous about how fancy this place actually was.

The drive to dinner was unusually quiet. Bakugou typically did most of the conversations with you seeing as you were mostly an awkward sausage but tonight was different, he had a stern look on his face and you felt a little worried. Bakugou noticed your nervous look in the rearview mirror and without skipping a beat placed his hand gently upon your thigh and gave it a small squeeze, this thumb moved back and forth in a soothing manner. All without taking his eyes off the road.

You felt a shiver run up your spine and you bit your lip from potentially making any noise, you turned your head to face the window to prevent him from seeing the look on your face.

Bakugou was right about the restaurant being fancy. The place was full of people you could recognize, everyone from business moguls to celebrities, it was almost a little intimidating but you knew probably how tough it was for Bakugou to even get a table reserved at this place so you decided to instead choke down any kindlings of anxiety and replace it with a gratefulness for his hard work.

You swirled the champagne around in your glass while Bakugou took a bite out of his steak, the atmosphere between you two was a little awkward and it hadn't been like this since the two of you met it was a little alarming.

“Is something wrong..?” you ask after gently resting the glass back on the table, he wipes his mouth with his napkin and sighs.

“I’m sorry that- I seem so weird tonight” he apologizes and you shake your head.

“No no don't worry about it, I’m just worried something bad happened” you tell him, you lean forward and place your hand on his. His fingers lace themselves with yours and for a moment it feels like its just the two of you in the restaurant together.

“Nothing bad, actually something good” he explains and you're giving him a small smile

“Something good?” you question and he leans in even closer to you.

“I mean, ever since I started hanging out with you I feel like my life's changed, I’m not one to be super cheesy but I just- fuck..I like you” his face is turning a light pink and in a moment of courage you close the small distance between the two of you and press your lips against his. He immediately reciprocates the kiss, his hand sneaks up your forearm and settles on your elbow using it to pull you in closer.

When the kiss finally breaks the two of you are a panting mess, then you hear the waiter clear his throat and Bakugou uses his thumb to wipe the lipstick from the corner of his lips.

“Check, please”

Upon entering your home, there wasn't much speaking. Your arms were wrapped around his neck as his hands fumbled with the zipper on the back of your dress. The two of you blindly walked backwards until you tripped backwards onto the couch. Bakugou completely stripped you of your dress and laid it across the back of the couch, your hands made quick work of his pants unbuttoning and unzipping them, he kicked them off eagerly uncaring of where the fabric was strewn. He cupped your cheek and continued to kiss you as he helped you wiggle out of your underwear. He sucked in a breath at feeling how wet you already were. He ran a finger up and down your slit before gently nudging a finger inside.

The sensation was foreign, it felt odd at first but the more he kept twisting and thrusting the finger inside of you the better it began to feel. He slid in another one and began making a scissor motion inside of you. Your hips raised off the cushions of the couch, you moaned into the kiss and eventually he pulled away from it, instead opting to kiss the skin of your neck. Your moans along with the wet sounds of his fingers fingering you open filled the space. It felt good, you could feel the knots in your stomach threaten to untangle the harder his fingers fucked themselves into you.

His movements slowly came to a halt and he slid his fingers out. Your eyes clouded with tears and your legs were shaking, disappointed that he stopped when you were so close. He pulled his cock from his underwear and began stroking it over you.

“Ready?” He asks as he grinds his cock against your twitching entrance and you're gripping his shoulder before he makes another move.

“A-actually..please just be gentle its-i’ve never done this before” you confess and his eyes widen for once, taken aback by your sudden profession. He gives you a small nod, “Promise.”

With one smooth stroke he bottoms out within you. Your back is arching off the couch as your mouth hangs open in a silent cry. The feeling is an addicting mix of pain and pleasure that has the tears you were holding in begin to roll down your cheeks, Bakugou gently kisses them away and uses his fingers to wipe away the stray tears. For a while, you're simply holding each other, bakugou whispers words of comfort in your ears while you slowly familiarize yourself with having him inside of you.

When Bakugou feels your hips begin to move against his, he takes that as his sign to begin moving. His thrusts start shallow, hips just barely touching yours as he doesn't want to hurt you and you quickly become frustrated with his kindness. Your legs wrap around his waist and pull him closer to you, forcing him to bottom out inside you again. You whine his name and he shakes his head.

“And here I was trying to be considerate” he huffs out, you grip his tie and pull him down and press a gentle kiss against his lips.

“I didn't ask you to take it easy on me” you remind him and he scoffs

“You asked for this”

You're suddenly flipped onto your stomach and he raises your hips in the air, he pulls himself all the way out of you until the head of his cock is the only thing you can still feel inside of you, he rams his cock back into you and you're gripping the couch for dear life. His hips are ruthless, lewd slapping noises fill the room as the head of his cock kisses your cervix with every thrust. His heavy balls greet your clit with an unceremonious slap. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, you can't think of anything else except Bakugou. You'd been completely fucked dumb on your first time.

You feel Bakugou’s fingers lace into your hair and grip the roots before pulling at them and forcing your head back. A jolt of pleasure flows through your body as his cock pushes up against your g-spot, your legs and kicking around behind you.

“No! cum-cumming kats I-” you can hardly finish your own sentence due to how hard your orgasm hits you, your body his shaking as bakugou releases your hair and uses his free hand to grip your waist as he desperately humps you, chasing his own release. Your cunt spasms around him in overstimulation, Katsuki only curses under his breath as you squeeze down on him, your cunt clamps down on his cock as you're brought to your second orgasm and his movements finally begin to slow and an unfamiliar warm fills your tummy.

He doesn't pull out right away. Instead he gently lays you backwards onto his chest and you snuggle into his chest.

He whistles, “Nice place”

“Pfft- don't try to make small talk with me after you just finished banging me” you giggle sleepily.

“Fair enough, still, I’m curious about how you can even afford this place” he wonders, hand rubbing up and down your back, only easing you closer to falling asleep.

“Hard work” you reply he takes your hand in his and kisses the back of it.

“That’s my hard working girl”

you feel the butterflies swarm around your stomach all over again at his small comment.

“Does this mean we're dating now?” you ask and he gives you a little chuckle.

“Yes, if you want”

“Good then you're my boyfriend” your eyes are fluttering closed at this point, you merely nuzzle into his chest and he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Goodnight love”

“Night Kats..”

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to-star-lake · 3 years

Text

An early scene from the let you go verse ✿☾

Geto had never seen anyone move that fast.

Sure, Gojo’s fast, and so is he, but you-

You were a veritable storm of movement, a blur of speed and precision.

He fanned his hand in front of his face, coughing as the billowing clouds of dust and rubble settled and the smoke cleared.

And there you were, crouched on one knee, your hands holding down the pair of curses the two of you were assigned to exorcise, a first mission for you. And there he was, standing awkwardly, wide-eyed, while the colossal tiger curse he summoned purred beside him, rolling on its back.

He cleared his throat, shaking thoughts away, dismissing the curse, and made his way towards you. The curses under your grasp groaned in unholy voices, and he watched, unable to tear his eyes away as your fingers closed even more tightly around their necks, your expression stone cold, unchanged.

“I could’ve helped,” he managed, quietly thankful that his voice didn’t crack at that moment.

You shrugged carelessly. “You didn’t need to.”

“Aren’t you going to exorcise them?” he tilted his head, failing to hide the intrigue in his voice.

“Yaga told me to let you exorcise them whenever possible.” He watched your face lift and your eyes met his. “He said you can control them.”

He paused for a moment, considering your words and nodded. He held out his right hand, palm open, enabling his technique and he watched your expression intently as one of the curses in your grasp warped into a dark, rumbling swirl in his palm, forming a crystal black orb.

Your eyes were focused on him, on the warbling sphere on his palm, and a twinge of self-consciousness hit him as he raised the orb to his lips, consuming it. Your eyes held no expression, he could not read what you were thinking, as much as he wished he could in that moment. But your eyes were so focused on him, so present, like you saw him so clearly and he almost wished you didn’t.

The other curse was churning into his palm and it had almost completely absorbed into an orb when you asked, “Can I hold it?”

He looked at you, wide-eyed, almost in disbelief as the question reached his ears.

Why? He wanted to ask. But didn’t. It can’t hurt you. And you can’t hurt him..right?

He took a step toward you, slow, cautious, the gently revolving curse in his palm out, a cursed offering to you.

“You should concentrate cursed en-” He didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t need to. You held your hands out, cupped next to each other, cursed energy coursing to your palms.

Carefully, gently, he tilted his hand over yours, passing the orb onto your hands and one might mistake this care for the object like it was something precious, but it isn’t. He'd never handed over an absorbed curse to anyone else (no one else had ever wanted it). He didn’t know what would happen.

He’d only noticed he’d been holding his breath, and let out a purposeful exhale when he saw the orb floating in your palms and in your hands, this wretched thing almost looked precious, like a gleaming black pearl between iridescent ivory shells.

He watched you looking down at it, a glittering reflection of the cursed orb in your eyes.

“And then you eat it?” your voice was much quieter than before.

“I consume it, yes.” he answered, the tenor of his voice matching yours.

His breath hitched as he watched you lift the orb to your lips, the tip of your tongue peeking from between your teeth, and you-

You tasted it.

He let out a ragged breath, hoping you couldn’t hear it.

Say something. He clenched his fists at his sides, desperately grasping for words in his mind. Do something. But he was frozen, the bottoms of his shoes cemented to the ground where he stood. He dug and dug, his efforts in vain, to find something behind your stoic expression.

It’s grotesque, isn’t it? This hideous thing I do. And now you’ve seen it. I shouldn’t have shown you. I shouldn’t have let you..

Finally you looked up, your eyes meeting his and you handed the curse back to him just as carefully as he passed it to you.

“That’s disgusting.”

“Ha..” the relief was audible in his voice at the way you said that. Your expression still hadn’t changed, but dare he say it, he definitely heard it, there was an almost playful edge to the way you said it.

“Hey, can we stop in that convenience store real quick?”

Geto turned to look at you, your small hand tugging at the sleeve of his uniform, the other pointing to a brightly lit building surrounded by vending machines past an empty parking lot.

He took out his phone to check the time.

“Yeah, are you hungry?” There was still time before the train back to Tokyo leaves.

“Yes,” you replied simply and bounded through the entrance to the little store. He took a seat on one of the benches outside by a vending machine, and a couple of minutes passed before he saw you poke your head out from the doors.

“Aren’t you coming in?”

“I’m not hungry,” he smiled. He never had any appetite and wouldn't for a long time after consuming a curse.

“Ok, I’ll just be a minute.”

He sat, looking out at nothing, replaying that moment over and over in his mind. The image of you, holding the small, black orb to your lips, the tip of your tongue grazing its surface-

“Here.”

He blinked, time finally catching up to him. He watched you take a seat beside him, holding a lollipop out for him. For me? And you nodded, nudging it closer to him, like you could hear the question in his mind.

He took it from you, and watched you drop a full bag of food down onto your lap. You unwrapped and took a bite out of the onigiri that you held in the other hand.

You must’ve noticed the way he was staring, because you turned and answered the question he didn't ask, “My cursed technique churns through my physical energy stores, so I’m always hungry,” you explained flatly. “I got you some cup ramen and onigiri too. For the train, in case you get hungry later.”

He laughed softly, he couldn’t help himself - the way you muttered through a mouth full of food, a little smudge of nori on your cheek, so different from the way you were when you defeated those curses, so human, so honest, so young..

“And this is what, an appetizer?” he chuckled, unwrapping the lollipop after reading the label. Sour apple.

“No, that’s a palate cleanser,” you replied simply. But your words caused him to freeze mid-movement. He felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach at the implication.

He took a careful inhale, forcing himself to move after a moment, and brought the lollipop to his lips. “I know it’s unpleasant. I can go buy some chewing gum-” He stood, turning away, his eyes dark beneath the fallen strands of his hair.

“Shit-”

A gentle tug at his shirtsleeve.

“Geto, I’m sorry..”

He turned, a practiced smile on his face. “You don’t have to apologize. I normally go on missions alone, so there’s no one to converse with..no one to care..and I’m so used to it that I hardly notice it anymore.” This last was a lie; he couldn’t not notice it.

“No, I mean-”

He watched your expression twist into something he hadn’t seen before. An emotion was manifesting in your eyes. What is it?

He watched you inhale deeply, your chest rising. He hung on the edge of every millisecond that passed.

“It’s not that. It’s not what you’re thinking,” you began, your voice softer than usual. He watched you scoff lightly, shaking your head a little before meeting his gaze.

“This isn’t normal, what you and I do, what we are, you know that right?” You glanced over at a boy and girl across the street, hand in hand, in their high school uniforms, skipping along, laughing, so immersed in their own world it was palpable.

“You don’t seem like the kinda guy that ever complains,” you continued, your eyes meeting him again. “I might be out of line for saying this, but I want to make sure you know- what you do, this is not something you should ever have to get used to. This isn’t normal. I know you probably have some belief system, some cause you’ve dedicated yourself to. To help people who can’t help themselves, because you can, so you think you should, right? Because you have this ability. But I hope you know that it doesn’t have to be at the expense of your own happiness. It’s not selfish to look inward once in a while. If you’re suffering, if you’re in pain- you should know that it’s valid. And that lollipop, it’s just a reminder, an entry back into the real world after you’ve consumed a curse.”

You turned, moving back to take a seat on the bench, resuming bites out of the onigiri in your hand while he was stunned, frozen where he stood.

“I apologize for my candor,” you muttered, your cheek puffed with food. “It’s an unattractive quality. But I hate it when people get so caught up in themselves that they lose sight of what makes them great.”

It doesn’t have to be at the expense of your own happiness…

It’s not selfish to look inward once in a while…

If you’re in pain, you should know that it’s valid…

This is a reminder…

…

What is this feeling?

A slow simmer in his gut, it was warm, fluttering gentle caresses up his spine, it rose up and brought warm heat to his cheeks, a flush of pink under his skin.

He looked at you from where he stood, and from your feet, he watched the rest of the world suddenly emerge in vibrant color- the way the summer air smelled, the soft chirping of crickets from the trees in the distance, the low rumbling of a faraway storm..

Everything that had faded into the background, that he’d pushed to the far back of his consciousness because for as long as he can recall, he was actually the one being consumed by the curses in his possession. And he’d gotten so good at hiding what plagued him, that he was even starting to believe it himself, believing that everything was fine. But by the sweet, clear succession of your words, everything was brought to life, screaming and vivid.

In that moment, he stood on this Earth, just a boy, and you, just a girl; someone from that moment on, he knew he wanted to protect with his life.

#getou suguru x reader #geto fluff #geto blurbs #getou x y/n #geto x reader #jjk x you #getou scenario

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

I love your Nie brothers content, all of it, but there is so little written about the friendship between Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian! We know they were friends in Cloud Recesses, but it's never explored how these genius guys, even if one is focused on magical inovations and the other on strategy and politics, got on. Something which shows how well they got each other would be great

Wei Wuxian’s fist trembled. How dare he – worthless peacock – my shijie..!

But before he could throw a punch, he saw a swirl of white – Lan Wangji, sweeping forward with a face like a graveyard, and Nie Huaisang cringing in his shadow – and suddenly he realized that he didn’t need to punch Jin Zixuan.

Speaking of others behind their backs is forbidden.

Sneering without reason is forbidden.

Arrogance is forbidden.

Do not be haughty and complacent.

Do not praise yourself and slander others.

Do not make assumptions about others.

Do not insult people.

Do not take your words lightly.

Wei Wuxian grinned with teeth. “Hey, Lan Zhan!” he sang out, and Jin Zixuan blanched. “Perfect timing!”

Later, after he’d laughed himself sick at Jin Zixuan’s punishment – humiliatingly perfect – and making his appreciation very clear to Lan Wangji, he went to go find Nie Huaisang.

“When did you go get Lan Zhan?” he asked, honestly curious. He hadn’t known he was going to get into a fight until he was there and it was happening, but Nie Huaisang, of all people, had apparently figured out what was going to happen before it happened and took steps to fix it.

“The second they started talking about girls,” Nie Huaisang said promptly. “It’s fairly obvious that Jin Zixuan is resentful of his parents managing his life and he’s lashing out at everything, including specifically your shijie, so a nasty comment was inevitable.”

Wei Wuxian blinked, derailed from his original line of questioning. “He – what? Wait, that’s why he’s so rude about my shijie?”

“Of course,” Nie Huaisang said, blinking back at him. “What did you think? That he just didn’t like her? He’s barely even met her.”

Wei Wuxian hadn’t thought about that way, but it made a certain amount of sense. “When did you get so good at reading people?” he asked, bemused. “I didn’t…uh…”

“Think I have any skills?”

Wei Wuxian coughed.

“I don’t!” Nie Huaisang beamed, clearly very proud of it. “But I do have a lot of expensive hobbies, and that means I need pocket money.”

Wei Wuxian wasn’t sure he understood the connection, and said as much.

Nie Huaisang laughed at him. “The Nie sect believes in self-sufficiency,” he explained. “My brother gives me a certain amount of money to spend, sure, but we’re not the Jin sect; I can’t just buy everything that I lay my eyes on and send the bill back home – my brother would break my legs! I’m expected to find a way to increase the money I get until it’s enough to cover both my needs and wants, necessities and luxuries both, and if I can’t, then I have to do without luxuries.”

Nie Huaisang has never, not once, in the entire few months Wei Wuxian spent in his company, done without luxuries.

“So,” Wei Wuxian said, feeling oddly unnerved and unsure why, “you learned how to read people because you want to act like…a merchant?”

Nie Huaisang lightly tapped his head with his fan, rolling his eyes at him. “Stop being such a landed gentry young master, Wei-xiong. There’s nothing wrong with trade! How much of your sect’s money comes from merchants interested in keeping their trade routes free of resentful energy?”

Wei Wuxian wrinkled his nose a little. “That’s cheapening it a bit, don’t you think? As cultivators, it’s our duty to stand up as heroes, to defend the innocent and defeat evil, to purify –”

“Right, right. Remind me again how the Jiang sect pays for all that pretty purple?”

“Well…I mean…”

Technically, yes, there were all the dye sellers and the fabric merchants, but…

Nie Huaisang was laughing at him.

“Don’t worry about it, Wei-xiong,” he said, wiping his eyes. “You stick to doing your own thing. If you ever need to sell anything, come to me.”

“Of course,” Wei Wuxian said, privately thinking to himself that he’d rather farm for crops than become a seller hawking his goods in the marketplace. “Hey, wait, what is it that you sell, anyway?”

Nie Huaisang sniggered and refused to tell him.

It was porn.

Also barbeque and liquor, although in that case Nie Huaisang mostly played the middleman between the vendors of Caiyi Town and the students stuck eating Lan vegetables.

Sometimes he could even be convinced to tug on his contacts for other things, too.

“You’re a true friend,” Wei Wuxian said, clutching the bottle of chili sauce to his chest. “A true and wonderful friend.”

“You still have to pay,” Nie Huaisang said, his eyes curving up behind his fan. “No discounts.”

“A ruthless, vicious, cut-throat friend…”

“I lend you the porn for free, don’t I?

“Wonderful! Wonderful friend!”

No matter what Jiang Cheng said, Wei Wuxian was trying to keep his head down during their time at the indoctrination camp. He was taking this whole thing very seriously: he wasn’t making a fuss (too much), he wasn’t being insulting (too much), he wasn’t even socializing (too much).

Lan Wangji didn’t count, anyway; after what had happened to him, he needed someone bothering him.

But Wei Wuxian was being good and keeping back from the rest!

Well, he was, except then he saw Nie Huaisang and just had to go over to say hello. It was only polite, and had nothing to do with the fact that during the months he spent at the Cloud Recesses, he’d learned that Nie Huaisang could sell anyone on anything.

“I don’t suppose you have contacts that will sell you barbeque here,” Wei Wuxian said as a greeting, because the food they’d received was frankly disgusting in a way that made him wistful for the Lan sect like it had been a gourmet restaurant.

“Well,” Nie Huaisang hedged, and Wei Wuxian’s eyebrows shot up. “Don’t get too excited, it’s not barbeque…”

It was meat, though, chunks of that had probably been roasted as skewers at one point, and Wei Wuxian didn’t even care that it was cold as he scarfed it down, immediately feeling ten times better than he’d been before.

“Where?” he asked. “How?”

“There’ll be a surprise inspection tomorrow morning,” Nie Huaisang said instead. “Keep your head down, they’re looking to make an example out of somebody.”

“How do you know that?”

Nie Huaisang shrugged. “I brought art.”

“To the indoctrination camp?”

“Wen soldiers get lonely and bored too, Wei-xiong.”

“You’re trading for information using porn?”

“Don’t be silly. I’m trading porn for meat, and getting the information while we’re chatting. A large number of the Wen sect cultivators used to be their own sects, you know, before they were absorbed, and not all of them are happy about what’s going on here. You just have to figure out who the loyalists are, avoid them, and focus on the rest, and it’s easy.”

“I still can’t believe you brought porn to the Wen sect,” Wei Wuxian said, shaking his head. “What’ll you do if your brother finds out?”

“You’re joking, right? He helped me pack it.”

Wei Wuxian will never understand the Nie sect.

Wei Wuxian stared wordlessly at his bowl.

There was a single slice of radish in it.

“Is this a joke?” he asked Wen Qing, because it might be, and she glared at him, meaning that no, it was not. “Don’t we have anything else?”

“With what money, Wen-gongzi? Do you think it comes from thin air?”

“I had a friend once who could make it come out of thin air,” he grumbled, looking down at his bowl. He’d practiced inedia, he didn’t need it, except for the fact that he really, really did. Not having a golden core made things hard. “He could’ve sold fish to fishermen, except he mostly just sold porn.”

Wen Qing rolled her eyes at him. “Wonderful story, Wei-gongzi. Positively heartwarming. But unless your old erotic art dealer is going to come to Yiling to help us sell some radishes, I don’t care.”

Naturally, that was impossible. Wei Wuxian was a villain now, his name blackened, the whole cultivation world against him –

Actually, as far as he could tell, the Nie sect didn’t seem to give a damn about him one way or another. From all the stories Nie Huaisang had told about his brother and from everything he’d seen in the war, Nie Mingjue wasn’t the sort of person to let evil sit around on a mountain while he was busy with other things – if he objected, he’d be there the next day with his saber, ready to put him in his place.

He hadn’t, obviously.

His hatred of the Wen sect was pretty well-known, but he’d taken no action at all to invade Yiling and demand that Wei Wuxian hand them over, and Wei Wuxian was mostly sure that it wasn’t because he was scared of what Wei Wuxian could do with the Stygian Tiger Seal.

…it was probably just the hunger getting to him and making him think crazy things. Not caring enough to go against him was pretty far from supporting him, after all.

But, hey, he wouldn’t be risking anything if he just wrote a tiny little letter asking Nie Huaisang for some advice on selling things, right?

I never thought I’d see the day my Wei-xiong finally became a merchant, the return letter said. I’ll be there in three days. I expect to see liquor.

Wei Wuxian took Wen Ning down the mountain and stood on his shoulders in order to emancipate a jar from the local tavern, but by the time Nie Huaisang arrived, there was, in fact, liquor.

Even Wen Qing – who had opposed the entire outing once she had heard about it upon their return – suddenly thought it was a perfectly reasonable sort of theft when Nie Huaisang offered to trade a giant crate full of meat for it.

“We had some leftovers from a boar hunt,” Nie Huaisang said mournfully, accepting the liquor and a bowl of radishes. “I need variety, Wei-gongzi, it’s terrible. You have to help me get rid of it; I can’t stand to look at it any longer.”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Wei Wuxian reminded him in between glorious bites of pork. He was going to be a very good friend and do his best to ensure that Nie Huaisang’s request was fulfilled, even if it meant taking seconds and possibly thirds. “I asked for advice, not a visit.”

“You can’t expect me to put my good name on what could be inferior goods,” Nie Huaisang sniffed.

“Your good name? The one known for porn, you mean?”

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes at him. “So show me what you have to sell.”

“It’s mostly just the radishes,” Wei Wuxian said. “I tried to tell Wen Qing that we should plant potatoes, but –”

“Forget the radishes,” Nie Huaisang said. “What’s this I hear about you designing a compass that pinpoints resentful energy?”

“Oh, that?” Wei Wuxian said, blinking. “Yeah, I made one of those – the Burial Mounds is the biggest source of resentful energy around, and it’s easier to have a compass that points home instead of north, you know? But what does that have to do with selling radishes?”

“Wei-xiong, you’re hopeless. Leave it all to me, and you’ll have your sect up and running in no time.”

“Yeah, that would be – wait, sect? What sect?”

“Actually,” Nie Huaisang said, tapping his fan against his cheek. He was just plain old ignoring Wei Wuxian now, which, hey! “I take it back – before you leave everything to me, show me what other ideas you’ve been cooking up. What about those talismans you used during the war? The spirit-drawing ones?”

“Spirit summoning,” Wei Wuxian corrected.

“Yes, those. Have you improved on those at all?”

“Uh, I mean, I guess…”

“Good. Show me everything.”

“So I have a sect now,” Wei Wuxian told Lan Wangji, who had come to visit. “We sell things to support it. Apparently.”

Lan Wangji nodded, apparently already aware of this. “The clan elders have agreed that using your flags to draw fierce corpses and other creatures away from areas with innocent human lives is an acceptable use.”

“Even the Lan sect?” Wei Wuxian marveled. “No wonder we’re making so much money.”

Then he sighed.

Lan Wangji looked questioningly at him.

“Well, I have a sect now,” Wei Wuxian said. “Everyone’s expecting me to – you know. Form the core of the sect.”

“Marry,” Lan Wangji concluded. Possibly advised? No, that didn’t sound like he was urging him to go ahead, which made a total of one person. “You do not have to if you do not wish. You already have an heir.”

“A-Yuan’s too young to be a proper heir,” Wei Wuxian objected, though he was secretly gleeful that people were generally accepting him as one. “And obviously I can’t just pick anyone; how will I know if they’re a spy? Or if they’ll secretly dislike A-Yuan?” He sighed again. “The worst part is, I think Nie Huaisang is plotting against me, too.”

“Plotting?”

“Yeah! He’s encouraging people to ask me about marriage, when clearly it’s better for me to stay off the market…what about you, Lan Zhan? Are you planning on marrying?”

“No,” Lan Wangji said.

“We’ll be a bunch of old bachelors, then,” Wei Wuxian said. “You should come more often, A-Yuan loves you…hey! I have a great idea! Why don’t we get married? Then no one will bother us ever again!”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji said.

“Mm? What does that mean?”

“It means I will need to send Nie Huaisang his payment in the morning,” Lan Wangji said, and moved to sit next to Wei Wuxian.

“Payment? You bought something from him? What did you want to –”

Lan Wangji silenced him pretty effectively, no spell necessary, and by the time Wei Wuxian retained enough ability to think through what exactly the purchase must have been, he’d already been converted to thinking that it was a very intelligent purchase to make.

Nie Huaisang really could sell anything.

#mdzs #wei wuxian #nie huaisang #wangxian #my fic #my fics #sales pitch #violetablood

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thinkingoutlouddblog · 3 years

Text

butterfly effect: one

His mouth is slightly ajar, surely shocked to be seeing the girl of his past so far from where he had left her. I myself try to compute what I am seeing, but my brain is running so fast from the adrenaline, the gravity of what is occurring hardly registers.

It’s Harry, and he’s here and the two of you need to get out of there right now.

Word Count: 6k+

Includes: mob!h, mentions of blood, scary dudes late at night, and the set up for my favourite story I’ve ever written!

A/N: guys I am so excited about this story! I swear writing this is the only thing holding me together (so don’t let it flop lmao). It is 2AM pray for me.

My inbox is open for anyone who wants to chat about this series! I love to gab, and constructive criticism is very much appreciated. I want this to be as good as possible!!

butterfly effect masterlist // my masterlist

now

It is not until it is already too late that I realise I should have just ordered an uber.

Alex was very insistent that I order one home from my late shift at the pub. He had even offered to split the cost, knowing without needing to ask this was the cause of my hesitation. It wasn’t that I couldn’t afford it. Strictly speaking, I could. I was just keenly aware of the amount of material I could buy with the amount a late night uber in London would cost me. I would never take him up on his offer. He needed the money just as much as I did.

“It’s okay, I’m good for it,” I gave him a little smile. He was sitting in front of his mirror in his room, midway through getting ready for work. I had simply come to say goodbye before I left for my shift when he had grabbed me by the hand and demanded I ordered an uber home.

“Babe, you have to promise me.”

“I promise!” I stared exaggeratedly into his eyes as I spoke, emphasising my honesty.

In that moment, I made peace with the money I would be losing from my fabric budget. I calculated this budget, of course, by subtracting living expenses from my weekly income. My best friend wanted to make sure I got home safe, wanted the peace of mind while he was working that I would be fine. Who was I to say no to that?

“Make sure you text me when you get into the uber and once you make it up to the apartment.” My chest flooded with warmth at the love and care in his voice. It was moments like these I really sat back and thanked my lucky stars that Alex was in my life.

So, of course I was just going to bite the bullet and order the uber. Of course.

Except, well.

I couldn’t help but think how quickly I got from our place to work. We had picked the apartment just one short month ago, heavily considering the advantage of its walking distance to my work. The King’s Arms was just one block up and down the road. It was barely a fifteen-minute walk. Shorter than that if I took the shortcut down the alleyway back to our block, saving me from walking further down the road and looping back around. It would probably take me longer to get home via uber, once you account for the time spent waiting for it to arrive.

A ten-minute walk home wouldn’t kill me, surely.

The contemplation was pushed from my mind for the duration of my busy Saturday night shift. It was my least favourite shift of the week, as I spent each week chasing after middle aged men getting rowdy in the excitement of watching whatever sport was on TV. The King’s Arm was small, but it was a local favourite known for its homey pub meals, reasonably priced pints and good atmosphere. Much to my contempt they didn’t keep a large staff pool, preferring a smaller, well-trained, reliable bunch. Which was great in theory until it left me to run around like my hair is on fire on a night as busy as tonight.

I was capable of serving everyone well and in a timely manner, but it wasn’t exactly a stroll in the park. More like a seven-hour long sprint, with a half hour break in the middle.

As the final game for the night ended, the crowd slowly but surely thinned until just a couple of small groups remained.

“Hey y/n, are you okay to lock up by yourself if I head home in five?” my manager, Rachel asked me half an hour before close. “I have some time I need to take back,” she added in explanation.

“Of course, you go get out of here.” I knew she wasn’t lying when she said she had some time to take back, putting in all sorts of extra hours to keep the place in tip top shape. I liked Nicola, and I had certainly been working there long enough to handle a couple of customers and lock up by myself. Even if I didn’t like Rachel and thought she was slacking off, I couldn’t exactly argue. She was both my boss and the owner’s daughter, probably not far off becoming the owner herself.

“Are you sure?” She asked, eyeing the few men still seated, probably triple checking she didn’t think they were any kind of threat.

“Yes,” I laughed, “now scram, before I change my mind.”

“Alright if you insist,” she said, already making her way towards her bag.

“Ring me if you need anything! Good night!” She called over her shoulder as she exited through the kitchen door. The cook had gone home ten minutes earlier, the pub serving only drinks the hour before close at midnight.

“Night!” I called back.

I made quick work of what little cleaning there was left to do, and gently reminded the remaining patrons we closed in half an hour. To my surprise they were agreeable and friendly, one of them instantly assuring me, “Don’t worry love we’ll be out of your hair soon, won’t make you stay back late.”

Usually the kind of people that were in the pub this late had no care for closing time, believing that pertained simply to whenever they decided they wanted to leave.

True to his word, everyone was out with ten minutes to spare and I was able to clean their dishes and tables with the remaining time they had granted me. I locked the door to The King’s Arms at 12 o’clock on the dot and riding the high of such an easy close, took not a moment in deciding I was in fact going to walk home.

To Alex: Just ordered an uber!

I felt guilty lying, but I would rather lie than have Alex worrying over nothing. I would be home in a flash, keys secured firmly in between my knuckles the whole way. I felt far safer on the move than waiting out the front of work for an uber anyway.

I kept a fast pace, left only to debate whether I took my shortcut or stuck to the street. I checked over my shoulder, and seeing absolutely no one around, made a quick right turn into the alleyway between two buildings.

I grabbed my phone from my back pocket as I heard the ding of a text notification. I glance down at my screen, reading as I walk.

From Alex: Amazing! I should be home in a couple hours, text me when you get home safe. Love you x

I don’t register the hushed growling tones as I continue making my way down the alley, still looking down at my phone as I type a simple ‘love you’ in reply. It isn’t uncommon to hear the conversations of tenants on the lower levels of these apartment buildings as you walk down the street. Walls are thin and many windows generally left open. It is easy to consign this particular conversation among the other non-threatening city sounds until I eventually look back up from my phone.

I am immediately faced with a most unfavourable scene, under the single light that illuminates this alley, are the two men who I now recognise to be the source of the argument I had barely registered. The first man is tall, dressed in all black, thick muscles protruding through his t-shirt. He towered over the second man who contrasted him starkly in his bright red adidas tracksuit. The tall man’s presence would be dominating the space, even if he didn’t have his dark forearm pressed firmly against the smaller man’s throat.

I clamp a hand over my mouth, stopping myself from yelping stupidly and drawing attention to myself. They haven’t noticed my presence. A witness to whatever it was that was occurring here.

“See all I’m hearing is excuses, bruv,” the tall man’s accent is distinctly that of someone from South London. His tone is aggressive, but even. He knows he has the upper hand and it is clearly not his first rodeo threatening people. This is exactly the kind of person I could’ve avoided encountering by simply ordering an uber.

I snap out of my shocked daze and start to turn to make a swift and stealthy departure. I’m no fool. I know there is a definitive gang presence around here. I also know, if you leave them alone, they too shall (hopefully)leave you. All hopes of making such an exit are of course foiled as soon as my foot connects with an empty beer bottle on my first step.

The two men’s heads snap towards me instantly. I expect the shorter man to ask for help, to say something, but his mouth remains clamped shut. Gang business. He is in a bigger mess than someone like me can ever save him from. The taller man’s eyes narrow. After the briefest moments of standing there frozen, caught, I spin on my heel and run as fast as my feet can carry me.

I run back to the route I should have taken, cursing myself all the way for being naïve enough to believe that nothing bad could happen to me on something as simple as a walk home from work. That women who were raped, kidnapped and murdered from off the street were somehow removed from me. That was something only on the news in my world. Not something that was possibly about to occur.

My heart hammers in my chest as I make the split-second decision, I am safer running all the way home than running as far as I can from the scene of the crime. I’m going to run all the way up the stairs to my fifth-floor apartment, and I am going to lock the door behind me. I turn the corner back up to my block, not slowing down for a second.

I am so quick in fact, that as I come flying around the next corner towards my apartment, I nearly barrel straight into someone. He was clearly walking with some pace too, because he narrowly prevents us crashing into each other head on, but he is a second too slow in his reaction time because I trip straight over his feet. I hardly even see him, even as I am falling straight over him. All I see is brown hair and a dark suit before I’m staring straight at the pavement flying towards my face. I barely manage to throw my forearms out to break my fall as I hit the pavement at speed.

“Jesus,” the man mutters, but the only thing I can hear is my heavy breathing and my own blood pounding in my ears.

I’m on the ground now, I register for a second before my flight response kicks back in.

I don’t even feel the sting of the scrapes with the adrenaline coursing through me, already attempting to scramble up and get as far away as possible from this stranger. “I’m so sorry!” I manage to call as I pick myself and my keys up, gearing up to get moving once more.

“Honey?”

No. It absolutely could not possibly be. There was only one person on this planet who had ever called me by that name.

I stop dead in my tracks. That voice. It’s deeper than I remember but undoubtedly familiar. Familiar seems too simple a word. That voice had echoed around the halls of my brain for years. Even now, six years later, it was not gone but buried, waiting for a simple trigger to spark my memory and bring that beautiful sound back to the forefront my mind. Some days I swear I remembered it like I had just heard it moments ago.

Except now, I really had heard him.

Slowly, I turned to face him.

It’s Harry, and he’s here and the two of you need to get out of there right now.

Before he can verbalise any of the questions on the tip of his tongue, I grab his hand in my own, and yank him forward as I continue running home.

Realistically, I know that we now outnumber whoever it was that may be coming after me and I know even six years since I’ve last seen him, I am always safe with Harry. He proved that in many ways, and more than once, while I knew him. I was not, however, willing to risk the tall man pulling a knife on Harry. I didn’t even want to put him in a situation where it was a battle of fists. Though I did know from experience he could more than hold his own.

“What’s going on?” he yells as we run down the street, rapidly approaching the exit of the alleyway I had fled.

I gradually reduce our pace until we are speed-walking past the alleyway. Tempted as I am to see if they are still there, I keep my eyes trained forward, praying they aren’t there watching us as we pass by.

As soon as we have cleared it, I’m straight back to my running pace, forcing Harry to accelerate speed once more.

“I’ll explain inside,” I call over my shoulder in answer to his earlier question.

Now that I felt a degree safer with Harry’s presence, I had the capacity to feel thankful I had opted for a boiler suit and converse for tonight to accommodate for the Saturday night rush. This run would have been hell if I had worn a skirt and a heeled boot instead.

“Inside where?” He’s laughing as he speaks and as the fear loosens its grip on me, the déjà vu begins to battle for dominance. That laugh had brightened my every day for long enough to leave a mark on my soul. Fleeting as it was, that single sound reignited the shine it had once left.

His question was answered when we came to a screeching halt in front of my apartment. It took me two tries to input my security code correctly, my brain and hands both moving quickly, but not quite matching up. Eventually, the door clicked, and I was able to swing it open, tugging Harry in after me.

I didn’t stop dragging him along behind me until we had taken all five flights of stairs up to my apartment two at a time.

“y/n…” he attempted to grab my attention when we first entered the building, but I was not to be deterred until we had reached the absolute safety of my apartment. I shushed him, not wanting to receive a noise complaint from my new neighbours. I supposed having such a thought was a good sign, my consciousness beginning to register it was not in any imminent danger.

I huffed and puffed as we landed at the doorstep of apartment 5B, the place I loved to call home. Harry, I noticed, was barely short of breath. He had always been a runner when we were in high school. I wondered if he kept up the habit even now.

My hands shook as I located the correct key on my chain, body still shaking from the excitement of the events of the past five minutes. I struggled to align the key with the lock with my left hand, unthinking of the fact my right was still firmly in Harry’s hold.

“Let me,” he murmured, already moving his right hand to take the key. I said nothing, simply surrendering it over to him.

His hands were steady as anything as he turned the key, granting us entrance into my home. I released a breath I didn’t realise I had been holding. I finally stopped just past the door, my back to Harry as he shut it behind him. I took a few deep breaths, trying so desperately to ground myself.

Was any of this even real? The sketchy characters I could believe in a heartbeat, Harry Styles’ presence, however, was harder to grasp.

But there his hand was, in my own, even if I couldn’t see him.

Harry stood back and let me take this moment to myself, keenly aware of how much I needed it. He knew I needed to take pause and re-centre myself otherwise I would only shut down. He was also aware of my injured state though, even if I wasn’t.

“y/n, you’re bleeding.”

“Oh,” my head snapped back to look at my arm. In the rush to get home, the blood from the scrapes on my arm had run down my arm and dripped into our connected hands. I quickly released my grasp on him. “Jesus, I’m sorry.”

“A little bit of blood never hurt anyone,” he quickly dismissed. “Unless you’re the one that’s bleeding, in which case you better get cleaned up as soon as possible.

“Luckily you have me here to play nurse. Just lead the way to the nearest bathroom,” he gave me a little cheeky grin, clearly trying to lift your spirits. The subtle playfulness is not as natural as it once was, but it is certainly reminiscent of our old dynamic. The surrealism of this whole thing goes straight to my head, clouding my ability to form full, coherent thoughts.

Somehow, I manage to come out with, “I think you mean our only bathroom,” in response.

He grunts a laugh, but he hasn’t missed the use of the word our.

I walk like a zombie, leading him through the hallway past the living room and the kitchen to the bathroom. I hold my forearms up in an attempt to redirect the flow of the blood and prevent it from dripping from my fingertips onto the floor. As I slowly came out of survival mode, my awareness of the stinging of my forearms became increasingly prominent. I was sure my hip and knees were going to be bruised pretty badly too. I really hadn’t managed to slow down at all before all my momentum came crashing into the cement.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” He asks upon our arrival to the bathroom.

“Under the sink.”

My eyes trail over the mess Alex and I had left in our rush to get ready.

I tend to procrastinate getting ready for as long as possible, busying myself with just about anything else. Generally, it will be tidying up the mess I’ve made during the day, only for me to create a whole new one in my hurry to get ready for my shift on time. Alex on the other hand, always leaves plenty of time to perfect his look before leaving for the night. Despite having the time to do so, he never cleans as he goes. Leaving his many products and deliberated outfits spread far and wide. Luckily most of his mess was confined to his bedroom, the only trace of him in the bathroom skincare and hair products (though there wasn’t a limited amount of those, either).

“I’m sorry for the mess,” I speak quietly watching Harry get his bearings, standing helplessly as I bled, hands still raised.

“Nonsense,” he doesn’t look at me as he speaks, jumping into action.

Harry turns the faucet on in the sink before opening the cupboard door and grabbing the first aid kid out. It was actually sort of a miracle Alex and I had one. It had been on a list of “Things You Need for a New Apartment” I had googled, scared we were missing important things. At the time, I had deliberated longer than necessary over whether to get one. I couldn’t remember the last time I had required anything more than a band aid for any given ailment. The deciding factor had been the memory of Alex getting into a couple of scrapes while out over the years. It had never been anything major, the worst injury he ever sustained being a bruised jaw, but it was better to be safe than sorry, I decided.

Turns out, that decision was for the best.

He gently touches his fingertips to my right arm, which had copped the brunt of it. With the softest touch, he delicately guided my arm under the stream of water. As I stepped forward to lean over the sink and wash away the dirt of the footpath, he stepped backwards, giving me my space.

I winced at the initial contact of the water as it ran red. I risked a glance at my reflection. Sweaty brow, the light lazy work makeup I had applied half off my face. I quickly diverted my gaze back to my injured arm. This was not exactly how I pictured our reunion. I had hardly ever even pictured it, I was so sure that I would never see Harry again.

I wondered if this silence was as heavy as I thought it was. Everything about him felt so familiar, yet so different. Up until this moment it felt like being in the presence of a friend, but now I realised, he was closer to a stranger.

I knew the person he once was, a sweet but fucked up kid who had been forced to become a man too early. Someone who had his walls a mile high around almost everyone. Almost. The boy who painted his nails on lunch breaks and was friends with everyone but somehow also no one. Until he was friends with me. Then he was the boy who always sat to my left from the first bell of the school day to the last. Back then, I knew him from the inside out, just as he knew me.

He was my greatest joy of those years. Then he was my greatest heartbreak. Now, he was just some guy I used to know who I had plucked straight up off the street, looking very out of place in what was clearly a designer suit in my tiny apartment.

He looked through the first aid kit as I ensured the entirety of the scrape was rinsed. It extended most of the way from my elbow to my wrist, but more pressingly in my mind, it now stung like a bitch. Once the water rain clear as it ran off my arm, I moved onto the much smaller and shallower scrape on my left elbow, working quickly to get it clean.

Most of the bleeding had stopped, only a few spots on my right arm still dotting with blood. I leaned over the sink to prevent the water from dripping onto the floor.

I cleared my throat, nervous to break the silence.

“Can you please grab me that towel?” I nodded my head towards the black hand towel hung behind Harry.

His eyes snapped upwards from the first aid kit he had been busying himself with. I was sure he had been surveying it more thoroughly than strictly necessary, trying to detract from the awkward energy which had crept up on us. We made brief eye contact through the mirror. My breath caught in my throat. The moment was over as soon as it began as he turned wordlessly to grab the towel.

He holds it in his hand, hesitating before handing it over, “Did you want me to…?” he trails off, growing awkward in his offer. He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. She barely knows you, back off, he tells himself.

“No that’s okay,” I speak gently, and he quickly passes the towel to me. I get to work patting my arms down delicately.

“Thank you though,” I add, hating the unsure look on his face. I meet his eye, giving him a smile I hope is reassuring.

“Okay, let’s get you sitting down so I can fix you up,” he returns your smile with a slight upturn of the right side of his mouth.

I relocate to the little dining table Alex and I had bought at Ikea just a week prior. Harry isn’t far behind, washing his hands before joining me to tend to my wounds. He lays out everything he is going to need from the first aid kit before holding his hand out. Like an idiot, I stare at his hand without moving for a beat too long before jerkily offering my right arm up.

He laughs silently as he turns my arm over, analysing it carefully.

“So, do you often go for runs at midnight?” He asks as he unscrews the lid on the Vaseline.

“Yeah all the time. I just don’t normally take people from the street with me.”

“Is that all I am? A person on the street?” He tries to keep his tone light, but I can tell he was hurt by my choice of words.

I expect to feel guilty, but a burst of anger I thought I had long gotten over flares in my chest. It isn’t as red hot and overwhelming as it had been years before – I’d definitely had my fair share of time to cool off – but I’m still surprised by the sting of it.

He was the one that made himself a stranger to me, and now he’s upset when I’m stating the fact that he made a reality.

Despite myself, I tried not to come across too harshly in my response. I was never one for confrontation.

“I mean, I haven’t heard from you in six years.”

He is very careful not to lift his eyes from my injuries as he carefully applies the petroleum jelly. I stare down at him, desperate to catch his eye.

There’s a pause as I wait for him to offer some kind of explanation. Some perfectly good reason why my best friend and first love left town without telling me why, or where he was going, and then never contacted me again.

When he doesn’t fill the silence, I sigh as quietly as I can manage. You don’t really know him, I remind myself. I practically kidnapped him, I can’t just go asking him to rehash history. It was so clear that he was what he had wanted me to be. History.

“I just mean, I don’t really know you anymore. I’m sorry I grabbed you like that, I just,” I hissed at the sting of his first aid, “I was walking home from work and I saw these really sketchy looking guys.”

“Sketchy looking?” He finally looked up at me, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

“Well I guess they didn’t really look sketchy in their appearance particularly, it was more the fact that one of them was practically choking the other. They were arguing over something. I think it was something to do with some of the gangs around here,” I attempted a nonchalant tone, not wanting to worry him. The less phased I seemed, the better. I had caused him enough trouble. The only thing that was probably stopping him from running for the hills and never looking back (again) was guilt.

I go on to explain how I’d kicked that stupid beer bottle and taken off running, “which is when I ran into you. I’m really sorry about that, by the way. I’m so glad I didn’t take you down with me I think I would’ve died of a mix of guilt and embarrassment right then and there.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Ho-“he cut himself before his mouth could form that name he had so affectionately given you. “I’m the one who feels guilty, if not for my big, slow feet you wouldn’t have bit the dust.” I laugh at his turn of phrase.

His face suddenly grows serious. “Your head is okay, right?”

Instinctively, my left hand shoots up to the back of my head, ghosting over the slight bump hidden under my hair. The scar tissue was ever so minimally raised, only perceptible to a knowing touch. I retract my hand bashfully, slightly embarrassed by my knee jerk reaction.

“It’s fine,” I match his serious tone, before lightening it up, “as you can see, I managed to break most of my fall,” I gesture to my right arm he has paused work on.

He holds my gaze for a moment longer, discerning whether he thinks I am downplaying anything. He picks up the dressing, moving onto the next phase of his treatment plan.

“And they don’t feel broken? You can move your wrists okay without too much pain?”

My heart swells at his concern. I stamp out the small joy as soon as it flared up. It’s guilt that’s fuelling him. Nothing else.

I shake my head no. He looks up once more, having missed the gesture in his concentration. “Sorry! No. All bumps and bruises. I’m fine honestly, I probably majorly overexaggerated the whole thing and freaked out for nothing. I’m really sorry about all this, its so late at night.”

“Don’t apologise,” he says firmly. “It’s not your fault and you did exactly the right thing by making a break fo’ it. You never know what could’ve happened. Ya’ know. Out late. By yourself. In the dark.”

My face burned red with shame, but also defiance. I knew what I did was stupid and extremely risky, but I also didn’t think I needed a lecture about it in this moment. The fear still coursing through me and my scraped-up arms were surely lesson enough.

“I could say the same thing to you,” I countered.

We both knew my argument didn’t hold up very well. He was a man out alone at night. There was obviously a risk there, but it wasn’t the same.

We also both knew, I wasn’t really trying to start a debate. Just signalling to him I didn’t want to get into it and wanted to move on.

“I was walking to the tube from a mate’s place,” he explained simply, letting me off the hook.

He had begun to tape the dressing down to my skin, securing it safely. He worked expertly. Even if I didn’t already know, I would have said this was one of many times he had done some at home first aid.

“In a designer suit?” I questioned. There were two things I was asking, but also not saying. Was this the kind of ‘mate’ you wine and dine before going home with them? And what happened to that poor kid from Holmes Chapel I once knew?

“I came straight from work.”

Jesus he wasn’t giving me a lot to work with in the way of details.

“Oh,” I say lamely, not wanting to pry. As much as I could tell myself (and him) that I didn’t really know him anymore and he was basically a stranger, it still hurt to be treated like one. We used to be so open with one another. The one thing I ever kept from him was how I truly felt about him.

“I work in finance,” he offers up after a beat of silence. “It uh- I’m pretty lucky to have the job I do,” he alludes to his financial standing, obviously wanting to acknowledge the contrast comparative to how I knew him. A boy not even of eighteen, fending for himself while trying to complete his high school education.

My face practically split in two with the size of the smile on my face at his words. “I’m so happy for you, Harry,” I say, hoping he can see how genuinely I mean it.

“Thank you.”

“Are you happy, H?” The question slips out before I can stop it. Internally, I kick myself. Externally, I try to keep my face neutral, yet interested. That’s a perfectly normal question to ask. Totally.

“Um,” he switches to my left elbow, making quicker work of the smaller wound. “I think so. In my experience you never realise how happy you are until you aren’t. But still, I think I am.”

“Good,” I say firmly. “I’m glad.”

“What about you?” He turns the questioning back on you. “What’s your story?”

“Oh, you know. The sad story of the girl chasing a dream,” I nodded my head towards the sewing machine stationed at the other end of the table.

“Don’t say that!” His tone jests, but he is serious as he speaks. “I think it would be far sadder if I discovered that your talent was going to waste. I’m really glad to hear that actually,” he half says the last sentence to himself, concentrating on fixing his dressing properly on the more difficult angle of my elbow.

“There you go,” he gleams as he admires his handy work. “Good as new.”

“Thank you so much, Harry. I’m so sorry for all this-“

“Not your fault,” he quickly dismisses.

“Even so, I’m sorry for all the trouble. I’ll pay for an uber home for you or something,” I try to come up with something to offer him that can even begin to repay him for his help.

“Are you going to be okay by yourself?” His brow creases in concern.

“Oh, Alex should be-“ I smack a hand over my mouth, realising I never texted him to let him know I had gotten home okay.

“Oh fuck,” I remove my hand from my mouth. I gingerly fish my phone out of my back pocket, muscles beginning to protest, the impact of that fall settling in.

Four missed calls and a flurry of text messages. My phone had automatically turned onto ‘Do Not Disturb’ mode as scheduled at 12:30. I hadn’t been notified of any of it and he had definitely assumed the worst.

“Is everything okay?”

“I forgot to text him and let him know I made it home okay,” I don’t look up as I speak, opening our text chat.

From Alex: I’m coming home

Received ten minutes ago.

“Your boyfriend?” He questioned, keeping his face impassive. That had my head shooting up.

“Uh-“ I began, but cut myself off as the unmistakeable sound of heeled feet running up the stairs to our apartment ran out loud and clear.

Shit.

Before I could even think what to say next, Alex’s key was in the lock. The door swung open, smacking the wall with the force of it.

Both Harry and Alex’s brows hit their bloody hairline I swear. Or more accurately, Lexie’s.

There my best friend and roommate stood, in full drag, light catching the sequins of the pink mini-dress I had sewn myself. If I weren’t standing there with the guiltiest expression of my life, I would be thinking about how stunning she looked.

Harry looked between the two of you, as Lexie did the same. Both trying to catch their brains up to what they were seeing. I myself was at a loss for words. I probably should have started with, “Lex, I am so sorry,” but Harry broke the silence first.

“Wow, you look amazing,” he breathed, transfixed by the look Lexie had created. Drag was an art form, and she was quite the artist. He was not the first to become enchanted upon first look, and he certainly would not be the last.

Lexie narrowed her eyes at Harry, jaw falling slightly open at the audacity of the acknowledgement in this moment. She had little patience for besotted strangers in moments like this. Her narrowed eyes moved to mine, face filling with rage.

“Lex-“ I begin, but am cut off for what seems to be the millionth time tonight with the simple raise of her hand. The close of my mouth is instant. I was not about to make this any worse.

“Bitch, if you do not have a very good explanation for this,” she breathes deeply, trying to gain her composure, “I am going to fucking kill you.”

********

As soon as he is out of your apartment and onto the street, his phone is in his hand. Fingers not able to press to type the message fast enough for his liking.

From Harry: We need to talk. I saw her.

As soon as the message was delivered, he was returning the calls he had silenced in y/n’s presence. The moment she had turned her back and left him to wash his hands, he had turned his phone to airplane mode.

“Jesus Christ bruv, I thought you were dead,” Michael joked as soon as he picked up.

The two of them had parted ways for what should’ve been five or ten minutes. Harry hadn’t seen it happen, just heard the clatter of the beer bottle as it skated along the ground and the screeching halt in the argument. He had been waiting patiently for Michael to finish working in the shadowy doorway to the side. He hadn’t seen a thing, and he was sure from his concealed position, whoever had seen Mike hadn’t seen him. So, he obligingly offered to take a walk, ensure she hadn’t gone calling the police.

He had just been bored. Ready to go home and have a drink with Michael so he could have a bitch and a moan about work. It always left him feeling better when he returned on Monday. He was killing time, that was all. He hadn’t expected to stumble over the girl who had changed everything.

Harry didn’t take time to explain his extended absence, moving straight along to what he had called for. Just like Mike, he preferred to skip the pleasantries.

“I need you to subtly divert as much traffic from this block as possible,” he didn’t ask. He never asked. It was always an instruction with him. In this business, asking nicely didn’t exactly lend itself to going far.

“What’s this about?” Harry gritted his teeth. He did not enjoy having his authority questioned. The only reason Michael would get away with it was because of their pre-existing friendship. Even then. Harry was not exactly in a forgiving mood. Made all the worse when Mike added, “This isn’t about that girl from the alley is it?”

Michael had his answer when Harry said only, “Get it done or I’ll have your fookin’ head.”

chat with me about butterfly effect!

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bythenineshards · 3 years

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So I've seen people talking about rewriting A//cotar and I thought it was an interesting concept. I'd prefer to write my own books but at work over the last few days I was thinking about what I would change. I also thought I'd share with the class. So these are my changes to A//cotar.

Firstly, the set up for this story is rushed, sloppy and unrealistic. Not in the sense that it's fantasy but more to do with the suspension of disbelief. F//eyre being the sole provider for her family is utterly unrealistic. This stems from the fact that Maas tends to do things in her plots that serve only to push one or two specific things. She wanted to make F//eyre superior and yet a victim. This was at the expense of something that could've been great and her laziness really shows with F//eyre's family. Now originally M//aas had no intent to bring the sisters into the story after F//eyre left but changed her mind later. As readers we got stale ass characters as a result of her pantsing. Here's how I would've handled it.

The A//rcheron's lose their wealth way earlier. N//esta is older and so is E//lain. So N//esta is 28ish, E//lain 25ish and F//eyre is still 19. They lost their wealth when F//eyre was 5. This is more realistic on the grounds that F//eyre wouldn't know how to read. All of the A//rcheron's work.

F//eyre and her Father (I would name him too) hunt, fish and trap. They go on trips to a neighboring city to sell their pelts. N//esta is the village school teacher and E//lain is a herbalist. F//eyre and their Father make more money on the pelts than E//lain and N//esta make with their jobs. F//eyre is resentful of their jobs as she and their Father get dirty in order to make their living. The reason N//esta and E//lain make less is revealed later. F//eyre and her Father have a close relationship and F//eyre hates N//esta because N//esta is often cruel in her words to their Father.

Here's the first big change to the plot. F//eyre doesn't kill the wolf. Papa A//rcheron does. They skin it and bring it home then sell it to the mercenary lady. A few nights later, T//amlin barges in demanding who killed A//ndras? Thinking that her Father is a better hunter than her, and her sisters will be broke if he is killed, F//eyre says she did. Papa A//rcheron doesn't correct this. T//amlin takes her in much the same way.

Now T//amlin. He irked me to no end in A//cotar. It is not a Beauty and the Beast story if the Beast is Sad Legolas in a mask. It is not hard to fall for a sexy elf man with abs. In my version he's half shifted. As if he was shifting into his horny wolf form when A//marantha enacted the curse. For the last 50 years he's been stuck in this odd amalgamation of man and wolf. He's fucking horrifying. Also the mask he wears has reflective glass in the eyes so she can't see his eyes.

Next thing to go is the waste of time where F//eyre tries to get word back to them or escape. It was like 2 hours in audiobook that ended up with something we already knew. Instead she'd explore the grounds, get to know T//amlin and actually fall in love with him. Maybe they bond over art or she teaches him to paint. Idk something to actually build chemistry besides abs! During this time I'd love for him to tell her about A//marantha. No more pronoun game with the mysterious "she" shit. He doesn't tell her about the curse completely. He tells her that she did this to him when he refused to be with her. And he'll be like this until he finds a way to break the curse.

Sometime passes and on the last day of the allotted time, A//marantha shows up at his borders. A messenger gets to T//amlin but A//marantha isn't far behind. Tamlin freaks out and tries to get F//eyre to leave. She refuses confessing her love for him. She kisses him and nothing changes. A//marantha appears and laughs at what happened. It's revealed that F//eyre lied about killing A//ndras. F//eyre couldn't break the curse. A//marantha clues F//eyre in about her ridiculous curse and tells her that she can't have F//eyre in the way. T//amlin uses magic to get F//eyre back to her family before A//marantha can kill her.

Back at the A//rcheron Manor, F//eyre tries to forget about T//amlin. She finds that N//esta is actually running their father merchant business and their Father is on a strict allowance. F//eyre is angered by this. This is when N//esta reveals why their family lost their wealth. Papa A//rcheron gambled it away. When their mother fell ill, he turned to drink and gambling as well as brothels. This broke their mother's heart. He lost everything and N//esta never forgave him. He was also horrible to the people in the village when he was a merchant. Selling necessary goods to the village for outrageous prices. They couldn't afford to get other traders so they had to give him what he wanted. When the A//rcherons lost their wealth, the village decided to seek vengeance. They paid N//esta and E//lain far less than what they needed. They wouldn't buy the furs he brought to town. And the only house he was allowed to buy was the cabin. N//esta and E//lain didn't tell F//eyre this because they were so close and they knew if F//eyre knew it would hurt her. N//esta and F//eyre reconcile. And F//eyre confesses she wants to go after T//amlin. She can't be without him. N//esta gives her blessing and some money to find a guide to cross the wall.

F//eyre looks for a guide and ends up finding the mercenary from before. She agrees to take F//eyre to A//marantha's domain. It's revealed that the mercenary is Fae. The Mercenary tells F//eyre to make a deal with A//marantha. Fae can't resist wagers.

They get to the mountain and F//eyre barges in. She makes a deal with A//marantha resulting in the trials (as much as I loathe them). Something like A//marantha will break the curse and release T//amlin and his court if F//eyre wins. But if F//eyre loses, gets to wipe F//eyre's memory of T//amlin and serve her forever. Now there's a few things I'd do differently. These mainly consist of F//eyre not getting handed everything.

The riddle: A//marantha gives it to F//eyre on a strip of parchment. She doesn't read it aloud.

First trial: the moment she sees the worm she covers herself in the mud and shit. She remembers what her father told her about worms when they used to fish. She also makes the trap without needing L//ucien to give her a hint. Her father taught her to hunt and she knows about the different types of traps. She still breaks her arm.

The deal with R//hys: she makes it and right after he leaves, L//ucien comes in with a potion to heal her. F//eyre also asks him to read the riddle to her. He reveals none of the Fae are allowed to.

The dirty water: instead of The Autumn Lady coming and ex machina cleans the water, F//eyre is resourceful. Maybe she finds a window. It's snowy. She dumps the dirty water melts the snow in the bucket and cleans the floor.

Cleaning R//hys's room: she fails and is tortured. Sorry but actions have consequences and F//eyre is the domain of a cruel woman. Maybe a goblin reads her Handbook for Mortals or Empress Theresa.

Second trial: either she guesses and is lucky or she recognizes the numbers in the problem and notices the answers on the levers and deduces based on addition and subtraction and what answers are available.

No drugging. No dancing. No make out with T//amlin.

Last trial: the lives she has to take are N//esta, E//lain and Papa A//rcheron. In her despair she feels the crinkle of the riddle in her pocket. She hugs N//esta and whispers to her to read the riddle to her. N//esta does. F//eyre gets it immediately.

The curse is broken. T//amlin is changed to Abs McLegolas and she gets to see his eyes for the first time. Boom. Happily ever after.

#anti sjm #anti acotar

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lonelyreputation · 3 years

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'tis the damn season (college au)

A/N: Hello!! I’m back with some holiday angst 💥 It’s been a busy holiday season for me, but we made it!! I hope you all have had a lovely December so far!! I’d love to hear your thoughts!!! Thanks a million million for all your support!! ✨🎄⌛️🍫☕️

Prompt: You’re back in Canada for the Holidays after leaving for California three and a half years ago. And while you’re home, you run into your ex-boyfriend––Shawn––and things get…Complicated.

(heavily inspired by ‘tis the damn season by Taylor Swift)

MASTERLIST | LET’S CHAT 🥂

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking, Allusion to Sex (no smut directly written) // WC: 12.6K // Angst & Fluff

A gust of wind hit your face like a hundred needles pricking your cheeks. The frigidness of the dry air caused you to shut your eyes tight and sniffle.

It was the first week of December, and the temperature was just a little below freezing as you walked around an outdoor market that was decorated for the Holidays. Bright string lights were wound around the trees; with even more lights zig-zagging from the tops of them, that mimicked stars in the night sky.

The Christmas music that played above the shops through speakers sounded more like a quiet hum beneath people chattering and hurrying off to the next shop. And there was the occasional cry of a child when their parents told them they couldn’t get the specific toy they wanted.

Even if a person didn’t celebrate Christmas, it definitely would put them in a festive mood.

“A little cold?” Your friend–Tara–bumped your shoulder with a chuckle.

You glared at her, shoving one of your mitten clad hands further into your jacket pocket. Unfortunately your other hand was preoccupied by holding onto a bag full of Holiday presents.

“It’s too cold.”

You could see Tara’s breath when she tipped her head back and laughed, “That’s what happens when you leave for California and have only been back three times since you left.”

At her comment, you shrugged your shoulders. She wasn’t wrong, and her tone was more lighthearted than malicious, but you still felt a pang of guilt. You left the quiet town of Pickering for the booming city of Los Angeles for university. And in the three and a half years you’ve been at university, you’ve only been back home three times.

Whenever you did come back home, it was kept to a week––or shorter––and you solely only saw your family and Tara. But your mother convinced you that it would be nice to have you home for a majority of the holiday break. So that’s how you found yourself back in Canada, when you could’ve been basking in the warmth of the sun in California.

“Any other plans for when you’re home?” Tara asked as she steered the two of you over to look at the front windows of a shop.

You rolled your eyes, “Just sitting on the couch.”

“There’s no one else you want to see?”

The undertone of her quick response was not lost on you. You glared at her, “You know I only see you and my family whenever I come back.”

“But you’re never back,” Tara tore her attention away from gazing at the shoes that were way too expensive for either of you to buy. Her eyes were slightly larger than normal and her lips tugged slightly into a frown, “I bet there are some people who would want to reconnect.”

You let out a bitter laugh and shook your head, “Not with how I left things.”

“Y/n––”

“If I wanted to know who you were hanging out with while I was gone,” You said with a bit of edge to your tone, because you knew while she mentioned how there were multiple people who wanted to reconnect…You knew she was specifically talking about one person, “I would’ve asked.”

Tara was silent as she confidently held your stare. It was as if she was trying to convince you that he would want to reconnect.

But there was a reason you kept your visits to Canada so short.

You knew Tara still talked to him––You knew she was still friends with him. How could she not? He was intertwined with your high school friend group. And you weren’t mad at her for still keeping contact with him, you didn’t have a right to tell her who she could and couldn’t be friends with…But you were fairly certain he never wanted to speak to you again.

You were the first to break eye contact and look down at the ground before looking over her shoulder to see a small stand for hot chocolate, “I’m getting a hot chocolate, do you want anything?”

Tara shook her head with a small smile, “I’m all good. Think I’m going to take a peak in this store.”

Without another word, you nodded and swiftly walked past her and toward the stand. There was another gust of wind that blew into your face. It was a kind of cold that fogs up windshield glass, when you passed a group of people who looked to be around your age.

You wiggled your nose from the cold air and didn’t pay any mind to them.

The line was longer than you thought, but you would wait in the cold if it meant avoiding Tara’s innuendos of meeting up with a certain someone. You bounced your leg to keep your blood circulating, but when you heard a little kid yell about someone cutting in line, you stopped and leaned your upper body to the side.

Everyone always got a little temperamental when they were freezing, especially little kids. But the parent hushed the child and everyone in line went back to minding their own business.

You dug around your pocket for some cash when you noticed you were a few people away from the front of the line. When it was your turn, you held out a few dollars for the cheap hot chocolate. But the cashier, whose elf hat jingled when they shook their head no, just handed you the white styrofoam cup.

“Someone covered your drink.”

You knitted your eyebrows together, “What?”

He kept his unamused facial expression as he nodded somewhere behind your shoulder, “He cut in line and said he had to pay for your drink.”

Taking the steaming cup from him, you felt your hands defrost from under your mittens as you nodded slowly, “Thanks…”

The cashier barely lifted their lips up in a smile at your response and was soon helping the couple behind you.

You took a single sip of the hot chocolate, letting out a content sigh as it warmed up your insides, when you turned around to thank the person who paid for your drink.

But when you turned around on your heel and saw the person who paid for your drink already staring at you…Your face fell. The hot chocolate you held in your hands no longer provided warmth. And you wanted to run all the way back to California.

It felt as if the cold air had frozen your feet to the pavement.

Last minute shoppers hastily walked around you, sometimes with their bags of presents clashing against your side, but they didn’t offer you an apology like you didn’t offer one for standing in their way. You assumed your face was just as blank as his.

The last time you saw him was a few days before you left for Los Angeles about three and a half years ago.

As if it was any more possible, he was taller and seemed more muscular. And while his hair was tucked under a beanie, you could tell that it had grown a little longer. No matter what season it was, his cheeks still held their rosy color, and even though he looked at you with a hint of indifference…His brown eyes were still as comforting as ever.

Noticing that you weren’t going to move, you saw his breath through the cold air as he let out a deep sigh. And with his own white styrofoam cup of steaming hot chocolate, he walked toward you.

Your heart gradually fell further and further in your chest with each step he took. And when he was standing in front of you, it felt as if you couldn’t breathe.

Both of you stood still, and while he kept his stare on your eyes, you couldn't help but wildly look around the little Christmas village. The hum of Christmas music and families chattering as they walked to their destination was drowned out by the ringing in your ears until he spoke.

“Long time no see.”

His tone of voice was as emotionless as his face.

“Hi––Hey.” You breathed out and held up the styrofoam cup, “Um…Thanks for the hot chocolate.”

He nodded and took a sip of his own drink, “No problem.”

This was not how you expected seeing Shawn again for the first time since the two of you broke up. In fact, you never really planned on seeing him again since that disaster. Just standing in front of him in absolute silence was only causing your chest to tighten with anxiety.

“I––Uh,” you didn’t know what to say. He was looking at you like he expected you to say something profound; or some sort of apology. You avoided his stare as you took a sip of your hot chocolate and coughed into the crook of your elbow, “I can pay you back.”

Shawn didn’t miss a beat, “That’d defeat the whole purpose.”

“Purpose of what?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“To talk to you.”

His responses were instantaneous; it felt as if he planned out this whole conversation in his head prior to buying your hot chocolate.

You let out a shaky breath, “Well…We’re talking.” Shawn closed his eyes in irritation and this was exactly why you didn’t plan on seeing him when you were back home. “Do you have venmo? We could call it even––”

“Are you busy tonight?”

Your eyes shot wide open at his question. Busy tonight? Of course you weren’t; your only plans were to watch cringe worthy Christmas movies on Netflix curled up on the couch. Maybe have a bit of eggnog and wishing you were back in California.

Shawn Mendes was nowhere in your holiday plans, and even though spending one-on-one time with him terrified you…You felt yourself rearranging all of your plans to fit him in exactly like you had done when you were seventeen.

You gulped, “What…What do you have in mind?”

A slight smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and you immediately felt yourself smile as well, “Just to talk.” You nodded your head until he offered up more information. He sniffled his nose, “I have my own place in Toronto now––”

“So why are you in Pickering?”

Whether he was bothered that you cut him off or not, he didn’t show it. He just took a sip of his hot chocolate as another cold breeze came through. He brought his index finger and thumb up to run the corners of his eyes before answering, “Christmas shopping with my friends.”

My friends.

The offhanded way he said it made it seem as if he didn’t consider you a friend anymore.

You peaked behind his shoulder and saw that the group of people you passed on your way to get hot chocolate was in fact a small group of people you went to high school went. You caught the eye of Brian, one of Shawn’s best friends that wormed his way into your life when you started dating, and offered him a small smile. He didn’t return it.

You nodded your head, understanding that Brian definitely still held ill feelings toward you. Instead of focusing on the negative, you brought your attention back to Shawn, who was surprising you with how…nice he was being.

“I don’t have any plans.”

As if he expected you to blow him off, his eyes widened in shock the same moment his mouth dropped. You let out a small laugh, thinking how you probably looked the same way when he asked if you had any plans.

Shawn cleared his throat, “Nice––I––Like I said, I have my own place in Toronto now.” He shifted his gaze toward the black pavement and let out a nervous breath before he asked his next question, “Do you still have the same number?”

Your voice cracked, “Yeah.”

Slowly, he picked his eyes from off the ground. He looked relieved that you hadn’t changed your number, but you felt hurt deep within your chest thinking that he didn’t have much faith in you. The 905 area code you’ve had since you got your first cell phone was one of the few things that still tied you to your tiny Canadian town.

“I’ll text you my address,” Shawn offered you a tight lipped smile before you both heard his name being called out by a girl. He briefly looked over his shoulder and then turned back to you, smiling, “Tonight.”

You quickly nodded, and didn’t stop nodding until he was slowly backing away from you, “Tonight.” You confirmed the plans back to him.

And this time when he smiled, he showed all his teeth, and it was a smile you recognized. One that traveled all the way up to his squinted eyes that made the corners crinkle. It was the smile you fell in love with at fifteen.

He took a sip of his hot chocolate before he turned his back to you and you saw how he was greeted back into his group of friends. He walked right up next to the girl who called out his name and threw his head back in laughter at something the group said.

You could name almost everyone in that circle; and there was an ache in your chest when you saw Tara make her way out from the laughing friend group and bounce up to you. Of course her life didn’t stop on your account, but you felt a bit crestfallen thinking how that could be you; laughing and smiling with high school friends––pressed up to Shawn’s side––if you didn’t flee away at the first chance you got.

Tara’s cheeks were bright red, but not the type of red from the cold air, they were red from smiling too hard with people she loved. She tried to keep her small laughs at bay, “Ready to continue shopping?”

You blamed the stinging behind your eyes on the cold air that continued to whip through the streets, “Let’s go.”

///

It was nearly ten at night when you parked your mom’s car in the parking garage of Shawn’s apartment complex. The sound of your door closing shut echoed through the nearly empty guest parking spots. With shaking hands, you pulled your phone out to tell Shawn that you arrived at his place. He immediately responded saying he would meet you at the front door.

You shoved your phone into your jacket pocket as you crossed your arms over your chest, hunching your shoulders ever so slightly, hoping it would preserve some body heat. With chattering teeth, you made your way outside the garage and waited outside the front door.

Standing still wasn’t doing you any good in keeping warm, so you decided to walk in a small circle.

And with pacing came overthinking.

What did Shawn want to talk about that couldn’t be said when you saw him at the Holiday shops? You didn’t think that there was anything left to say with how you ended things. When he texted you his address for tonight, it was the first message exchanged between the two of you since the last text he sent you in 2016. And that text made it quite clear about how he felt about you.

Please never speak to me again.

“Y/n?”

You whipped your head up and saw Shawn dressed in gray sweatpants and a soft pink sweatshirt. A sweatshirt you stole from his closet countless times when you were a couple. And while he looked absolutely adorable with his hair tousled, as if he’d just woken up from a nap, the heat from inside the building was the main factor that lured you inside.

“Thank God,” You brushed past him and immediately began to regain feeling in your toes.

Shawn let out a laugh, “Cold?”

You sniffled, “Uh––Yeah. Very cold.”

He shook his head with a small smile, “Well, lucky for you, I have the heat on in my place.”

And you took that as your que to follow him to the elevator. The short walk from the front door to the elevator was silent as Shawn pressed the up button. He rocked back and forth on his heel, something you knew he did when he was nervous.

But why would he be nervous? He obviously knew what he wanted to talk about. You on the other hand…How does a person go from never wanting to speak to someone again to inviting them to their apartment?

The soft ding of the elevator made you jump.

Shawn let out a single chuckle and let you onto the elevator first. You crossed your arms over your chest as Shawn pressed his floor number.

The ride up was also spent in silence.

It wasn’t until the doors slowly opened onto Shawn’s floor that panic began to infiltrate every corner of your mind.

“Do you have roommates?” Your voice came out more high pitched than you intended.

The last thing you needed to deal with was Brian––or some other old high school friend––coldly stare you down as you walked through the door.

Shawn shook his head as he took his keys from out of his pocket and twirled them around his index finger, “I have a studio.”

“Oh,” you squeaked out.

As if he could sense how nervous you were at his answer, he slightly turned his head to look at you; eyebrows raised and a smirk placed on his lips.

The rest of the walk was in silence until Shawn stopped in front of a dark teal door that looked identical to the rest on the floor. The first time he tried to unlock the door, he accidentally put his mailbox key in the lock. He nervously chuckled as he fiddled with his key ring for the correct key. And once he found it with shaky hands, the door clicked and he walked through first.

The walls were an offwhite color, and his furniture was either all navy or black, making the single room more cozy than it probably was intended to be. His bed was pressed up on the far back wall in a corner next to a window. From what you could make out, you saw a few scattered pictures tacked up on the wall next to his bed. Most of them looked like they were from college; but you saw a few high school graduation pictures, prom pictures, and comical spirit day photos.

Even though you and Shawn were connected at the hip during those prominent high school memories…You didn’t see yourself in any of the pictures.

“It’s nothing special,” he shrugged and walked over to his little kitchen area, “Do you want water?”

His question brought you out of the pity party you were throwing for yourself in your head, “That’d be great.”

Shawn opened up one of his cabinets and reached for two glasses. Slowly, you walked up to the little counter and sat on one of the barstools he had. He slid a glass of water over the counter and you smiled in appreciation.

You tapped your fingers around the cold glass, “So…How’ve you––How’s your family?”

You cut yourself short from asking your first question…Unfortunatley, you had a pretty good idea of how he’s been the past few years. So instead, you stayed in neutral territory.

“They’re good,” Shawn took a sip of his water as he leaned his back on the fridge, “How’s your family?”

Like him, you kept your answer short, “They’re fine.”

The pleasantries were weird. You don’t know if you preferred his silence or the awkward short phrases the two of you exchanged. You used to be so entwined with his family, and he with yours, that just hearing that they were “good” made it seem like they were an off limits topic.

Silence.

You took a sip of water.

The water felt extra cold against your dry throat. You set your glass on the counter and folded your hands together, “Still studying architecture?”

At your attempt of trying to continue the small talk, Shawn pushed himself off the fridge and sat on the barstool next to you. Even though you’d spent three and a half years apart, you spent four years together, and he still knew you better than you’d care to admit.

And that meant he knew the exact way to teeter the line of making you slightly uncomfortable, but not enough to send you running away.

Small talk was something you disliked. Silence was something you hated. Feeling unprepared in a situation was something you loathed. And you despised being so close to someone without knowing what to say.

He knew all of that.

Not liking how out of control you felt in the situation you scooted the chair back, “I think I should go––”

You were only able to get off the chair and stand straight up before Shawn’s hand shot out and took hold of your wrist, keeping you in front of him.

His touch burned; it felt hotter than any summer day you spent in L.A., but the familiarity that came with his calloused fingers––from spending hours on end practicing guitar––felt like home.

You stood frozen with his hand keeping you from still. With closed eyes, you took a deep breath in, “Shawn…” then slowly let it out, “Why did ask me to come over.”

He stayed silent, but the way he slowly let go of your wrist, and trailed his fingertips over the top of your hand right down to your fingertips before he glided his fingertips up to your elbow…It caused all sorts of bells and sirens to go off in your head.

After a few more beats of silence, where Shawn just trailed his fingers up to your elbow and back down to your wrist, he slipped his hand into yours and laced your fingers together. You closed your eyes as he tugged you forward so you were now standing in between his legs.

“This isn’t smart,” you whispered, eyes still shut.

He squeezed your hand once, but you kept your eyes shut and held your breath.

Only when you were drunk off champagne in L.A., droning on and on about your problems––most of them circling back to Shawn––did you let yourself imagine what it would be like to hold his hand again. To be in this position again. One that you found yourself in plenty of times in high school.

“Y/n…” His voice softly carried your name through the silent studio apartment.

He squeezed your hand again.

You knew that once you opened your eyes that you would give in to anything he wanted. There was only a miniscule part of the rational side of your mind holding out. But when he bumped his knee against the side of your thigh, that last part of you that was holding out was consumed by the ever growing desire of wanting the person in front of you.

You snapped your eyes open and were immediately drawn into the sincerity he held in his eyes, “I miss you.”

I miss you too, you wanted to say. But you kept that admittance to yourself.

You gulped, “This––We shouldn’t––” you briefly looked down at your intertwined hands, a sight you didn’t think you’d ever see again, before looking back into his wistful eyes that caused your stomach to twist in knots, “This is a bad idea––”

He tugged you even closer to him where you were almost pressed up against his chest. You placed a hand on his chest, feeling the soft fabric of the sweatshirt. You hoped your hand would add some kind of distance, but at your touch, he closed his eyes and let out a sigh as if he’d been waiting years for this moment.

And maybe he had.

“Babe––”

“Just for the weekend,” you fell into his plea, but cut him off in a strained voice.

There was a time in the past where you thought you would be in this same exact position with Shawn; standing between his legs, holding hands, in an apartment somewhere in Toronto…He squeezed your hand again and you felt a sharp pain in the center of your chest.

This was almost like a scene drawn perfectly out of your imagination, but there was one piece missing.

You lifted your palm from off his chest and twiddled with the strings of his hoodie. You tried your best to ignore the ache in your chest. And you tried your absolute hardest to not concentrate on that missing piece. You bit the inside of your cheek, and blinked away the burn behind your eyes.

The missing piece––that would make this scenario exactly like a scene drawn perfectly out of your imagination––would be if you two were still in love.

But love wasn’t what this situation was about.

“Tis the damn season,” Shawn murmured, and In one swift motion, he used his free hand to cup one of your cheeks before crashing his lips onto yours.

The heat you felt when he had only touched you didn’t hold a fame to how it felt to kiss him again. It felt as if no time had passed, his lips molding right on to yours. His fingers curled around the back of your neck, his thumb slowly caressing your cheek. Keeping his lips connected to yours, he stood up from the stool.

Slightly hunched over, Shawn deepened the kiss as he slowly walked you backward until you felt your back softly come in contact with the wall. With his one hand still holding onto the back of your neck to keep you close, his other hand slowly crept under your sweater.

You shivered under his touch and you felt him smirk against your lips.

“Where’ve you been staying?” Shawn mumbled into your neck as he nipped at the skin there.

You let out a few deep breaths through your nose, you were finding it a bit impossible to think clearly seeing as your train of thought was only focused on Shawn, “I––” you were cut off by his lips reattaching themselves onto yours.

“I’m staying at––at my parents’ house,” you were able to get out through his rushed kisses.

Shawn hummed as he ground his hips into yours, causing you to whimper in his mouth as you threaded your fingers through his curly hair.

He repeated his movements a few more times as his hand that was cupping your cheek made its way down to your hips. And he let the hand that was under your sweater, trail painstakingly slow down your stomach, until he had both hands holding onto your hips.

He slowed down his kisses, until they were just a few pecks, before he stopped all together and leaned his forehead against yours. You didn’t have to open your eyes to know that his eyes were still closed as well.

He brushed his nose against yours, “And where did you tell them you were going tonight?” You felt his breath fan over your voice.

You breathed in, “Tara’s.”

He pressed a single kiss to your lips, one that was reminiscent of your first kiss underneath the bleachers when you were fourteen, “Does she know you’re here?”

And when you breathed out, you felt your chest touch Shawn’s, “No.”

Shawn hummed in acknowledgement, but you couldn’t tell if he was relieved or sad that you kept your late night rendezvous with him a secret. But before you could ask him if anyone knew you were coming over, you felt one of his hands slide into yours once again and pull you over toward his bed.

For the rest of the night…Every touch, every kiss, every soft spoken word with eyes closed––because with your eyes closed, at least you could pretend that you two were in love––brought you to a higher sensation that you chased all over L.A. to find.

And while Shawn was fast asleep, you laid awake with your head on his bare chest, rising and falling with every one of his even breaths. As you were tangled up in Shawn’s sheets naked, with one of his arms thrown around your shoulder, you realized that the feeling you craved would always lead you back to Shawn and your hometown.

///

Promising Shawn that you would only be together for the weekend was a bold face lie that you should’ve seen coming. That first weekend spent at Shawn’s place led to another weekend. Then the weekends bled into the weekday. And you found yourself sneaking out of your parents house more to meet up with Shawn now than you ever did in high school.

Christmas had come and gone and Shawn was busy around the clock with his family on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. He did send you a few texts throughout the day to let you know he was thinking of you, but it wasn’t the same as actually hearing him whisper the same words to you right before you drifted off to sleep next to him.

It was Boxing Day, and with Boxing Day came a tradition for graduates at your high school that you never participated in. You thought it was a bit foolish, high school graduates meeting up in the woods behind the school–that they swore they hated for four years–as they drank and reminisced about the four best years of their lives.

You never participated since you were usually back in California by this time, booking the first flight out of Canada after Christmas. Or it was like your first year at University…Not even bothering to come back to Canada.

You texted Shawn that you parked your car between the Methodist church and the school that used to be yours. As a response, he sent back the emoji with one eye closed with its tongue out. He was the one that convinced you to come out tonight…After he promised that not everyone was still bitter about how you dropped them after you moved to L.A.

Taking the lock and chain off from around the gate, that was never securely locked around the Holiday season, it was easy to sneak in. And you wondered if this was the school’s secret way of encouraging their graduates to come together.

Trudging through the frozen grass, you were still freezing even though you had multiple layers on to keep your body temperature up.

You felt like you were wandering forever, and if it wasn’t for Instagram pictures you’ve seen in past years, you would’ve thought that Shawn was pulling a prank on you. But the further you walked into the woods, you started hearing a few shouts of friends greeting each other with Happy Holidays. And when you got closer, you saw string lights zigzagged from tree to tree.

There were people you recognized and others you didn’t recognize either gathered around keg stands, sitting on tree stumps, or in a small circle of fold up chairs that they provided themselves.

You felt a bit lost, and you took out your phone to text Shawn, but Tara bounced up to you with a red solo cup in each hand.

“I kneeew you’d come,” she drew out the lone vowel in ‘knew’ as you took one of the red solo cups from her and rested a steady hand on her shoulder, “No one belieeeved me that you’d show.”

Tara wasn’t drunk, but you knew that when her speech pattern wavered that she was a little more than tipsy.

“I told you I would be here,” you took a sip of the beer in the cup, “So, here I am.”

Tara raised an eyebrow at you, “But you’re late.”

“I never promised a specific time,” you narrowed your eyes at her as you brought the red cup up for another drink.

If this conversation was going where you thought it was, you would need more than just a few sips to get through it.

“Stop playing dumb,” Tara rolled her eyes, but her voice was soft.

You hadn’t told her that most of your break had been preoccupied by Shawn. He was one of the major reasons why you hated returning home, so it was a bit ironic that you now looked around for him with anticipation clawing up your stomach.

You continued to play dumb, “I don’t––”

Tara let out a huff, “I know––We all know––That you and Shawn have been attached at the hip.”

The background noise of old high school friends laughing was the exact opposite of how you felt with your best friend. You hadn’t told anyone that you were spending time with Shawn. And you were pretty positive he hadn’t told anyone either.

“That’s not true.”

Were you attached at the hip with Shawn since you returned to Canada? No, that wasn’t true. But did you spend a considerable amount of time together? Possibly.

“He’s been more…Smiley, the past few weeks,” Tara gave you a pointed look, “And so have you.”

While you felt not much disdain for your hometown anymore, and felt a bit lighter on your feet…You knew that part of that feeling was thanks to Shawn. And while you never thought of returning back to Pickering when you were done university, you slowly started to come to a realization that coming home wouldn’t be that terrible.

You took a sip of beer to cover up your smile, “Good for him that he seems happy––”

“Don’t you remember how things ended between you two?”

With her comment, you took a few more longer sips of your drink. Once you felt confident that you wouldn’t lash out at her, you brought the empty cup down to your side and clutched the plastic cup down at your side.

“I think I remember quite well,” you grumbled with a clenched jaw.

You glared over her shoulder at a happy looking couple

There were a few beats of awkward silence before Tara let out a soft sigh. She looked at you with her big adoring eyes that were supposed to be comforting, but you saw a hint of protectiveness in her eyes. A protectiveness that wasn’t for you.

“I’m just looking out for you––”

“No,” you tore your longing gaze away from the smiling couple as you looked at your best friend with hurt in your eyes, “You’re looking for Shawn.”

The silence was enough of an answer for you.

You nodded your head once and swallowed down the lump in your throat, not even your own best friend had your back, “I think I’m going to leave.”

You were about to spin on your heel when Tara’s voice stopped you in your tracks, “I’m looking out for both of you.” You let out another breath, not wanting to get in an argument with her, but she spoke up once more, “Like it or not, you were the one who left.”

You wiped away a tear from your cheek that managed to escape your eye, “I know I left,” you whispered, “But you also knew how torn up I was after we broke up.” You felt your throat tighten up more as you spotted your old friend group over Tara’s shoulder that you lost contact with after you left, “They don’t know that. They only know how he was.”

Tara reached out for your hand, but you took a step back, “Y/n, it’s not like that––”

“It’s cool you’re friends with Shawn and still friends with everyone else,” you gnawed on your bottom lip, as an unfamiliar feeling creeped up your stomach when you looked behind Tara’s shoulder once more at your old friends; guilt.

You thought you were going to say something else, but the longer you stood in front of your best friend, the more guilt you felt rise up like bile in the pit of your stomach. So without another word, you turned around and started to walk away from the smell of bad perfume lingering in the air.

The grass crunched loudly under your shoes, but not loud enough to block out a certain voice that would visit you in your most blissful daydreams, but also haunt your darkest nightmares.

“Long time no see.”

Letting out a deep breath, you put on a brave face as you spun around to see Shawn.

You playfully rolled your eyes at him as he walked to you, only stopping when the tips of his shoes touched yours, “It’s been three hours.”

Shawn rolled his eyes back at you as he took one of his hands out of his pockets and slid his fingers easily between yours. It was too perfect the way your hands fit together. Too perfect how he still knew your body like anyone else. And too perfect how he seemingly just forgot about how you left.

While you were heartbroken over your break up with Shawn, you couldn’t say that Tara was wrong when she said that you were the one who decided to leave.

Shawn’s curls tickled your forehead as he ducked his head and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, “I’ll always miss you.”

You didn’t miss the subtle undertone of devastation in his voice.

You looked away from him as you tried to swallow down the pain you felt. From the start of whatever this arrangement was with Shawn, you knew that it wouldn’t end well. It was a recipe for total destruction, and It’s why you only wanted it to last a weekend.

But with the few weeks you’d spent with him, you were starting to see how you could possibly make this work past the weekend. It would be tricky with you heading back to L.A. at the end of the month, but you thought it would be worth it to try something new.

“Shawn…”

Just like how you noticed the devastation in his voice, he picked up on the slight ache behind your voice. He knew that tone of voice all too well because it was eerily similar to the tone you used on him before you told him you were leaving.

And even though you did eventually have to leave, you weren’t trying to say that you were leaving him.

He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh that broke your heart, “Stop running.”

You shook your head, “I’m not––”

“You are,” his voice was heavy, and when he opened his eyes you felt your shoulders fall at how his brown eyes were full of fear, “You can run, but only so far. And it’s been so long,” he squeezed your hand and didn’t ease up on the pressure, “Aren’t you tired?”

You tilted your head back and let out an aggravated breath through your nose, but you still held tightly onto his hand.

“I’m not––We’re both in this situation,” you blinked away the stinging behind your eyes and slightly skewed the conversation, “I think we should––”

With a tilt of his head, he pinched his eyebrows together, “Are you––” his voice cracked, “–-Are you really making me watch you leave again?”

With a frown, you shook your head, “That’s not what I’m saying. This situation isn’t the best, but if we change––”

“Because I remember that damn well,” he flared his nostrils as his breaths came out uneven, ignoring the idea you were trying to propose. You were caught off guard by his sharp comment, and didn’t have a rebuttal, but he seemed to take your silence as an answer. And when you felt him drop your hand, that’s when the panic really started to flood your body.

Shawn let out a bitter laugh as he looked down at the frozen grass, shaking his head as if trying to rid you out from all of his memories. But when he looked back up at you, his lips were pulled into a tight frown and you could see his bloodshot eyes from the haze of the dim Christmas lights.

You took a step forward, reaching your hand out to feel him one more time, but he took a step back, “Do you not remember telling me––and everyone else––how you were going to McGill?”

He waited for a response, but you didn’t have one, so he kept on with his scathing questions, “Do you not remember us making weekend plans to see each other? We were going to make it work between Montreal and Toronto. ”

You felt your chin wobble because you knew exactly where he was going with this. And all of his anger and heartbreak toward you was justified.

“Shawn––”

“Do you not remember,” his harsh voice dropped down into a gut-wrenching whisper, “Telling me two days before the semester was starting that you were leaving for L.A.?”

The feeling of holding back your tears became too much. A few leaked out from your eyes as you hiccupped, “You don’t have to–”

“Do you not remember,” He spoke over you, “how much planning you put into moving out there?” Shawn let out a shaky breath as he harshly wiped a few tears off his cheek with the heel of his palm, “Because if I remember correctly, your mom said you were planning that for months.”

More silence on your end.

“If leaving––” He brought the sleeve of his arm to wipe under his nose, “If it’s okay with you, it’s okay with me. We could call it even.”

You swallowed thickly as a gust of cold air blew in between you two, “Call what even?”

“I watched you leave,” Shawn itched the bridge of his nose, not looking directly into your eyes, “You can watch me leave.”

You were beginning to feel the oncoming of a headache; which wasn’t surprising considering how hard you were clenching your teeth and how you were trying your best to hold back your sobs.

While you didn’t think whatever mess you got yourself in with Shawn over the break was healthy, you did think that there was a way to sort it out to make it better. With only one semester left, you had to go back to L.A. to finish your degree, it was the only thing that made sense. But you were starting to think that maybe you could try long distance with him. And you were hoping that maybe––up until this point––that he would also want to try it out.

But maybe wasn’t enough.

You let your shoulders drop, because as much as you didn’t want to let go, he seemed pretty set on making you feel the same exact blindsided pain you caused him years ago.

You let out a pathetic laugh as you curled one arm around your waist, “Tis the damn season, right?” You barely got the sentence out before you brought your other hand up to your mouth to muffle your cries.

His eyes were wide with pain, much like the day you left him on his back porch after you told him you were attending a different University than planned. He fiddled with his hands, almost like he wanted to reach out and hold you one last time, but he shook his head––as if he decided you weren’t worth anymore words––and walked away.

You watched him walk in the direction you had just left from until he disappeared beyond the trees. Once he was gone, and you were certain he wasn’t going to turn around, you let your shoulders drop and buried your face in both of your hands.

Your breaths came out shaky as your shoulders shook with your cries. Shawn was gone. He left you exactly how you left him; standing alone, crying, wanting more of an explanation–-wanting to still make things work––and not being able to do anything while watching the one person you ever loved walk away.

At least when you left, you looked back at him one last time. You vividly remember how his face crumpled and then how he brought a hand up to cover his face as he openly sobbed. You could still feel how your chest tore open at the sound of his wailing that day.

But he didn’t look back at you when he left.

You stood alone in the woods, unable to catch your breath between your hyperventilation and cries, as you felt scratches on the back of your throat from harshly breathing in the cold air. You cried for a little longer, rocking back and forth as you clutched your stomach, until you felt ready to leave your high school.

You shivered from the cold, but at this point, you would welcome any other feeling than the devastating heartbreak you felt in your chest as you walked out of the woods. With one last look at the highschool that brought you to the absolute best person you’ve ever found in your life, you headed down a road you hadn’t taken in months.

Taking the road you used to walk from your parents house to high school looked real good…It looked fine until all you saw on the street were memories that danced their way around in the haziness of the night. Time flies and the memories blended together through your blurry vision.

You approached the stop sign, which had an infamous ditch, that caused almost every car to get stuck in if they didn’t take the right turn wide enough. You let out a small laugh as your mind drew up a version of a fifteen year old Shawn and yourself in his white truck. He was so proud to finally have a vehicle of his own––even if it was his grandfather’s old truck––to take you out on dates.

And one day when Shawn was driving you home from school, he was too caught up in recounting a story about how he and Brian nearly got caught ditching third period, that he got stuck in the ditch. How you got out of the ditch wasn’t clear––but you remember Shawn standing behind his truck, pushing it, as you were in the front seat pressing on the gas pedal.

And when the two of you were able to get his truck out of the ditch, his back tires spurted up an insane amount of mud. It caused his freshly washed white truck and white shirt to look just as messy as the mud on his truck tires.

Your laughs soon turned into more tears as you crossed the seat and leaned your forehead on the metal post of the stop sign. You didn’t regret going to California, you knew you wanted to get out of Pickering, but being home for an extended amount of time showed you how you wished you’d gone about leaving a different way.

Going back to your old high school showed you how much you missed your old life. You missed the nights when you stayed up all night with your friends, waiting to watch the sunrise, and then going to a diner for breakfast. You missed the times you would lie on Shawn’s floor doing homework, while he studied at his desk. You missed the way your friends would tease you and Shawn when they saw you holding hands.

But most of all, you missed seeing Shawn’s smile.

Bright headlights from your peripheral vision caused you to pick your head up from the rusty metal post. You sniffled and decided that it would be best to continue walking so the car wouldn’t see your mini breakdown.

You continued to walk straight, but the car didn’t speed up and go around you like you expected. Instead, you heard the sound of a window rolling down as the person who you were just thinking about called out your name.

You should’ve given Shawn your full attention, but you don’t think you could watch him leave again. So you shook your head and continued to walk forward.

“Y/n,” Shawn called out your name again, “Get in the truck. It’s cold out, it’s late, you’re upset, and Tara said you had a drink.”

You shook your head no as you crossed your arms over your chest, sniffled away the last of your tears, and continued walking.

But what did cause you to stop walking was the sound of the engine shutting off and the slam of a door.

And like when you first saw him at the little Christmas village all those weeks ago, the two of you stood face-to-face in silence. It seemed as if his tongue was tied and he didn’t know what to say. And you didn’t know what you wanted him to say. He made his intentions with you clear at the edge of the woods.

“I’ve only had one drink,” you looked away from his eyes that were full of remorse, and it only made the ache in you feel worse, “I’m fine walking home.”

You brushed past his shoulders, but he shot his hand out and clasped his hand around yours. You held your breath as he spoke, “Hear me out––”

“I heard you in the woods,” you choked out.

He squeezed your hand tight and the action caused you to rapidly blink away the tears you were so certain were gone. He was all you wanted, the past weeks showed you that, but the back and forth––the crushing of both of your feelings––wasn’t something that was healthy or sustainable for a relationship.

You dropped his hand for a second, but his hand reached right back up to yours, holding onto it in panic, “We––We could just ride around,” he let out a low somber chuckle, “Just like the old days.”

Even though your back was still facing him, you bit your bottom lip and squeezed your eyes shut. Just like the old days. You didn’t think words that sounded so innocent could be so painful.

“I can’t,” you whispered.

At your denial, Shawn held your hand tighter, and you felt him take a step closer to you, “I just-–I want to spend time with you.” You heard him let out a shaky breath, “I didn’t––What I said back there––I know you’re going to leave again. I thought it would make me feel better to say those things––But it didn’t. And I––” his voice cracked, “I’ve missed you so much.”

You tried your hardest to resist the urge of leaning into the warmth of his chest. But when you heard the crack in his voice, you didn’t care about all the alarms going off in your head about how this was a bad idea.

You turned around to face him and saw stress lines on his forehead as his eyes looked red. He had his lips firmly clamped together, as if he was also trying to hold back in his tears.

With a deep breath, you tried to smile, “Shawn––”

He shook his head. He didn’t know what you were going to say, but with past experience of you starting a sentence off with his name, it was like he didn’t want to take any risks.

“I––No one is at my parents’ house. We could––We could just go there, watch a movie––Or do absolutely nothing,” he took a deep breath and leaned his head against yours, “I just need to spend more time with you before you go.”

You gulped, “Okay.”

The relieved sigh Shawn let out fanned over your face as a small smile lit up his face. If this was any other moment you previously shared with him, you would expect him to press a light kiss to your lips, but he just nodded against your forehead.

With your hand still in his, he guided you to his truck––the same one he got stuck in the ditch with––and you were proud of yourself for not crying at the sight of it. The way he opened the door, and placed a hand on the small of your back––to make sure you didn’t fall backwards as you stepped up into the truck––was reminiscent of all the times he picked you up on dates.

When you were buckled into your seat, you turned your head to look out the window to wipe away a few tears with the heel of your palm.

Shawn started his truck back up and the whole way back to his parents’ house was spent in silence.

He turned in his driveway, and put his car in park as the two of you sat in silence. His hands were still placed on the steering wheel and your hands were curled in fists, no doubt your fingernails leaving crescent moon shapes on the inside of your palms. You knew that the two of you were thinking the same thing…The last time you were both at his parents’ house.

The last time you were both at his parents’ house was when you told him you were leaving––Leaving for L.A. and leaving him.

He switched off the ignition and turned to face you, “Are you…Do you want to come in?”

“Yeah, sure,” you said as you swallowed down the lump in your throat.

Shawn nodded too, and the two of you unbuckled your seatbelts, as you opened the door. You carefully took a step down, but ultimately stumbled out of the passenger seat.

Once you regained balance, you saw Shawn standing a few feet in front of you with an amused smirk, “Even after years…You still have trouble getting out of it.”

Even though his tone was lighthearted, you saw the painful look in his eyes as memories of you struggling to get out of his truck flashed before his eyes.

You rolled your eyes as you shut the door, “It’s steep.”

Shawn let out a boisterous laugh as he led you through the front door and an overwhelming sensation washed over you. Seeing Shawn’s apartment was odd, but it was his own space that you hadn’t seen before.

But his home…You spent countless Sunday night dinners in the dining room with his family, helped his mom throw a surprise seventeenth birthday party for Shawn in the kitchen, fell asleep on Shawn’s shoulder in the living room during a movie, and snuck into his basement countless times on a school night.

You knew this place.

“We can uh––” Shawn brought a hand up to the back of his neck, “Go to the basement? We got it redone last year so it’s nice––And um––Do you want a sweatshirt? A blanket? Something other than your jacket?”

Even though Shawn was in his house it seemed as if he didn’t know how to act either.

You smiled, “A sweatshirt would be nice.”

He nodded, “Cool. I’ll go grab it and you can––You can wait in the basement if you want.” Before you could respond, he turned around and ran up the steps to his room to fetch you a sweatshirt.

Instead of wallowing in your memories right by the staircase, you headed for the basement. Your feet had a memory of their own as they carried you straight back through the hallway, past the kitchen, and made a left. You walked a further bit down that hallway until you were met with the white door that led to the basement.

With a deep breath, you twisted the handle and walked down the stairs.

The basement was redone, but not overly done. There was a fresh set of paint, new hardwood floor, and new furniture scattered about. You weren’t alone for very long before you heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

Shawn had changed out his jeans for sweatpants and a hoodie, “Here you go,” he handed you a sweatshirt of his.

You took it from him and inspected it as you slipped off your winter jacket. It was his varsity hockey sweatshirt from junior year of high school. The gray sweatshirt had your high school’s logo printed big on the front, the top of the sleeve had a bold C for captain, and the back had MENDES 16.

It was one of his sweatshirts that exclusively lived in your closet since you wore it to his games so often.

You gulped as you slipped it over your head. Once the sweatshirt was on, you saw Shawn sitting on the futon with his eyebrows pulled together. He was either thinking about all the times you wore it previously or he was regretting offering it to you.

You stuffed your hands in the front pockets of the sweatshirt and stood there until Shawn patted the spot next to him, “Come here.”

Shuffling your feet, you made your way across the hardwood floor and slipped your shoes off before joining Shawn on the futon. You crossed your right leg over your left thigh and started to nervously pick at the loose skin by your thumb.

You didn’t know what he was going to do…Was he going to turn on the T.V.? Did he want to talk? You thought that the two of you talked more than you needed to in the past few hours.

Shawn’s eyes glanced down at your nervous hands and in one swift motion, he shifted his sitting position so that he was facing you, and took both of your hands in his.

He was staring intently at you, and you wanted to do anything to lessen the tension. His hands felt warm around yours as you looked at the wall that the futon was pressed up against. You let out a small laugh when you saw the tiny holes that the new paint wasn’t able to hide.

“Not able to get rid of the holes from darts?”

Shawn was confused for a moment, until he followed your gaze to see the tiny holes for himself, and let out a chuckle, “My parents painted the basement last year and they just noticed the holes…” He shook his head, “I tried telling them that it was Brian and Aaron, but they were still mad at me.”

You smiled softly at the memory, “They were wasted that night.”

Shawn mirrored your smile, “Yeah it was six years ago, but they were still mad.”

You squinted an eye and offered him an apologetic smile, “Sorry, I encouraged them that night.”

Shawn shook his head, telling you not to worry about it, “We were all having a good time.”

Silence.

You let out a deep breath and broke eye contact with him again. You felt nervous as ever under his gaze and felt hot as you wore his sweatshirt.

“How’re you liking California?”

You snapped your head over to him, eyes bulging out of your head, because him bringing up the place you left him for was definitely not something you would’ve thought he’d bring up.

“I um––It’s warmer,” you weakly smiled and Shawn’s chest softly shook with laughter. He looked at you, raising his eyebrows, wanting you to expand on your explanation, “It’s nice.” You let out a sigh and looked into your lap.

Shawn squeezed your hands which caused you to look up at him, “Even though we…We didn’t leave off on the best of terms,” he licked his lips in nervousness, “I still care about you. And I’m curious to know.”

You nodded your head in understanding. Saying that you didn’t leave things off on the best of terms was an understatement––It was Shawn trying not to hurt your feelings––But you knew exactly how you left things. And it was absolutely terrible.

You let out a sigh as a genuine smile lit up your face as you remembered landing in LAX for the first time, “It was really really nice,” you peaked a look up at Shawn to see that he also had a genuine smile on his face. “At the time, it was exactly what I needed. I just…I don’t know what it was about Canada but I just needed something new and––” you felt yourself get choked up because here you are, sitting in front of the boy who promised you the world for years, saying how much you wanted to leave.

Shawn squeezed your hands in reassurance, “It’s––I get it.”

You let one of his hands drop as you brought it up to wipe away the tears, “Sorry I––I don’t want to cry, sorry.”

“Really, it’s alright,” Shawn squeezed your hands once more, “When things got…” he tilted his head side to side, trying to find a word, “better, Tara would tell me about how happy you were out there.” He smiled sadly, “I was happy that you were happy.”

You wiped away more tears and let out a pathetic laugh, “I really don’t deserve you.”

“Hey,” Shawn leaned forward to wipe away some of your tears. And when you opened your eyes, you saw how close he was to you, the tip of his nose a centimeter away from yours, “Everything’s…We’re good now.”

You shakily took a deep breath and nodded your head, “I––I’ve been thinking and I––I don’t want to stay in L.A.”

Shawn’s eyes brightened up at your confession, “You’re not staying there?”

You shook your head and whispered, “I miss home.”

You miss Shawn.

Shawn’s eyes flickered down to your lips and then gazed back up into your eyes. You offered him the gentlest of smiles, shoulders dropping in relaxation, and that was all the go ahead Shawn needed to lean forward.

When your lips pressed together, you instantly closed your eyes and felt Shawn let out a content sigh out through his nose. It was a short kiss, and when Shawn pulled away slightly, you didn't miss the twinkle in his eyes.

“You’re coming back to Canada?” He whispered in a daze, voice full of hope.

You nodded, biting your bottom lip to keep your growing smile at bay, “After I finish this semester, yeah,” you let your eyes linger on his lips for a second longer than normal, before lowering your voice in all seriousness, “I’m coming home to Canada.”

Without any hesitation behind the actions, Shawn crashed his lips back onto yours that had you toppling back a little. You let out a small laugh against his lips as you regained your sitting position and wound your arms around his neck.

His once hurried kisses morphed into slow sensual kisses as he took his time savoring every kiss. His kisses were just as slow as the movement of his hands on your thighs; slowly rubbing your knees, then trailing his palms up your thighs, until he slid them back down to your knees. Everything about his touches, and your kisses, were slow and unhurried.

Eventually, his hands trailed further up your thighs until they didn’t come back down to your knees like usual. Instead, his hands rested on your hips, with one hand traveling to the button of your jeans. You felt your breath hitch in your throat when his fingers popped open the button of your jeans.

Without breaking the kiss, he slowly pulled down the zipper of your jeans and helped you shimmy out of them. Once you kicked your jeans off from around your ankles, you tugged at the bottom of Shawn’s sweatshirt, letting him know that you want it off.

He hummed against your lips in acknowledgement, but didn’t remove his clothing right away, “I want to kiss you a little more.”

You fought to suppress your smile, the corners of your lips still tugged upward, making Shawn’s deep kisses a little hard to continue. With a sigh, and one last peck to your lips, Shawn pulled back and tugged his sweatshirt over his head.

You tilted your head, “No shirt?”

Shawn shrugged as he lowered his gaze back down to your lips, “Most of them here are too small. My sweatshirts still fit through.”

And while everything before was gentle touches and hushes kisses, the earnestness of the situation was coming to light. He looked at you with the same sincerity and understanding that you held in your eyes. He offered you a small smile before he latched his lips to the skin just below your ear.

“If it’s okay with you,” Shawn spoke as he took his time on your neck, depositing slow, wet kisses, some of which would definitely leave lingering marks, “It’s okay with me.”

You tilted your head to give Shawn better access as one of your hands absently played with the curls on the back of his neck, “I––Yes,” you let out a content sigh as Shawn nipped at a spot on the base of your neck.

His lips made a sound as they detached from the skin on your neck so he could look down at you. You held onto his bicep and nodded your head slowly, “We need to talk more in the morning, but for now…” You squeezed his bicep, “I want this.”

“Agreed.”

And with that, Shawn leaned forward, as he pressed his lower abdomen into your front, and cupped the nape of your neck to kiss you deeply.

///

You didn’t know what time it was when you eventually stirred awake, but you awoke with a soft smile on your face. You wore Shawn’s hockey sweatshirt, had his arm curled around your waist, and were pressed firmly against his back as you felt his hot breath on the back of your neck. Waking up in this position was better than anything you ever dreamed about.

After a few minutes of being up alone, you felt the arm around your waist tighten, “Morning,” Shawn’s voice was groggy as he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck.

You closed your eyes and hummed as you felt him pepper a few more kisses along your neck, “Hi.”

Shawn chuckled at your morning greeting before propping himself up on his arm. He squinted his eyes at the wall with the television on it and let out a soft laugh. He looked down at you with an adoring smile as he brought one hand up to stroke your cheek, “It’s two in the afternoon.”

Your eyes winded as you felt wide awake, “What?!”

You went to sit up straight in alarm, but Shawn had other plans. He moved the arm that was propping him up, falling beside you, as he dropped his entire weight on you. You let out a muffled groan into his shoulder as you felt his chest rumble with laughter.

“We can afford to sleep in half the day,” Shawn pressed a kiss to your shoulder, “Just for old times’ sake.”

You let out a deep sigh, but brought one of your arms out from under Shawn––and the blanket that was draped over him––to curl around his shoulders. You let your fingertips softly graze his back in a figure eight pattern and he let out a deep sigh.

“That feels nice.”

You only offered a hum in agreement because even though Shawn felt like a dead weight on top of you, it felt nice. The whole situation felt nice. Everything from the events of last night, to waking up in his arms felt nice.

It felt almost as good as being in love in high school.

But like every time you felt yourself getting swept away in past memories that were better than anything you felt in the present moment, reality came crashing in like a tsunami.

Because the reality was that you had to go back to L.A., go back to all of your friends––or so-called friends; you heard whispers from one of your closest friends that a girl named Janey just wanted to be your friend because of a connection you had to a production company. It was something you heard before, but it wasn’t something you ever spent a considerable amount of time wondering about.

Out in L.A., you mostly wondered about the only soul who could tell which smiles you were faking.

Shawn was the gentlest and kindest person you’d ever met. His heart was bigger than anyone else’s; and he always made sure to make people happy even when he wasn’t feeling at the top of his game.

He showed people that he cared for them by remembering their coffee order.

He showed people he cherished them by putting their birthdays in his calendar so he wouldn’t forget to wish them a happy birthday.

But most of all, he showed people he loved them by not allowing them to walk home alone in the cold when they were upset.

And now, with that soul on top of you––literally––you knew that the heart you were breaking was your own. How deserving were you of a second chance? How deserving were you to be let into his life again? You were selfish––greedy to have him back in your life––so you would cling onto that second chance, but there was still some left over guilt.

You let out a sigh, “Shawn––”

“Shawn?”

A voice that wasn’t yours––But one that you recognized as the voice of his mother––called out his name. Your fingertips stopped grazing his back and it felt as if you forgot how to breathe. Shawn mirrored your alarm about the situation as he shot up.

“Shawn? Are you here?”

“Oh my god it’s your mom,” you whisper yelled at him.

Shawn’s mouth hung open in panic, not knowing what to say, but then the basement door opened up and his mom called down, “Shawn?”

“I––Uh––Yeah, mom! I’m down here!” His voice was strained as he yelled up to her.

You were still under Shawn, and you prayed to anyone up in Heaven that she would stay up there. You didn’t know how well it would go over if she walked down the stairs and saw you.

You stayed frozen under Shawn as you heard his mom call out again, “We’re going over to the Martin's house in a half hour!”

Shawn swallowed thickly as he nodded rapidly, “Yeah––I––I didn’t forget! I’ll be ready!”

After his mom got his answer from him, she shut the door and neither of you two breathed until you heard her retreating footsteps. Once you were both positive his mom wouldn’t make a re-appearance, Shawn let out a laugh and you smacked his chest.

“That was not funny,” you glared at him, “I nearly had a heart attack.”

Shawn rolled his eyes, “I haven’t felt that kind of thrill since the last time we almost got caught when you snuck over.”

“We don’t talk about that.”

Shawn let out another laugh as he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your cheek, “You don’t like to talk about it.”

You shoved his chest until he moved off you. With a small laugh, he rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow, with a regretful smile on his face, “I do have to shower and get ready though.”

You let out a frown, not wanting to leave the warmest bed you’ve ever known in the last three and a half years. Blindly, you reached out for his free hand and slid your fingers between his, “Are you free tonight?”

“Tonight?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at you, “Can’t get enough of me, eh?”

You rolled your eyes with a small smile before regaining your serious composure, “We need to talk.” Shawn closed his eyes momentarily, as if not wanting whatever trance he was under to be broken, but when he opened his eyes, you were smiling reassuringly at him, “I want to make this work. We just have to talk about how.”

Shawn released a relieved breath and smiled, “I want to make this work too.”

“We could call it even…” You smirked at him, as he raised his eyebrows in amusement and curiosity, “You could sneak into my house.”

Shawn let out a quiet laugh as he shook his head, “It’s so hard to sneak into your house,” Shawn dropped his head into the crook of your neck as he continued laughing, “Sneaking up to your room is impossible with that tree that’s in direct view of your parents window.”

“You’ve done it before,” you shrugged.

With one last laugh, Shawn pressed a single kiss to your neck before lifting his head up, “That I have.”

Once both of your laughs subsided, you stayed on the futon for a few moments longer just looking into his eyes and holding his hand. While you felt pure happiness explode in your chest at this phase of reconnecting, you hated the fact that you had to leave again.

Even if you were just leaving for a few months and then coming right back to Canada. You felt as if you spent too much time away already.

“Hey…” Shawn carefully pulled yourself out from your own head, “We’re good.”

You held his steady gaze before squeezing your eyes––and his hand––tight, “Even though I’m leaving––”

“I’ll be yours for the weekend,” Shawn cut you off. You gulped at his answer and slowly opened your eyes to see the seriousness he was trying to convey, “We’ll talk more tonight, but we can make this work, I––You have a spring break, right?” You nodded your head, “I can come out and visit. And we’ll figure––” he squeezed your hand, “it out.”

“We’ll figure it out,” you repeated his promise.

He smiled one last time before leaning his head down and pressing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“You have to––” You tried to get words out between kisses, but Shawn kept deepening the kiss to keep you quiet, “Get ready––”

“Shawn!”

His mother’s voice caused him to bolt up right. You had to cover your mouth with your hand to quiet your laughter. He glared down at you, “I’ll be up in a second!”

You shoved his shoulder so that way you weren’t trapped under him anymore. You stepped onto the ground and stretched your arms over your head as you saw Shawn smirk at you. Finding your jeans somewhere on the floor, you slipped them back on, “What?”

Shawn nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders, his smirk transforming into a wide smile, “Nothing. Just that I could get used to this again.”

Again.

Never in your wildest dreams did you ever think you would have an ‘again’ with Shawn. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as you returned his smile and buttoned up your jeans.

You made sure you had everything you came with before turning to see Shawn at the bottom of the stairs, now with a sweatshirt on. You walked up to him, placed a hand on his shoulder as you stood a bit on your tiptoes, and pressed a goodbye kiss to his lips.

Shawn smiled into the kiss, “Know your way out?”

You smacked his chest and he let out a small yelp, “I could sneak out of your basement with my eyes closed.”

Shawn smirked as he watched you walk toward the door that would lead to an outside staircase that would deposit you to his side yard, and from there, you would sneak behind the line of hedges in his mother’s garden.

Easy peasy.

You opened the door and had one foot out before you heard Shawn let out an over dramatic sigh, “Ah,” his eyes twinkled with a familiar mischievousness, “Feels like we’re back in high school.”

You looked out at the cement staircase with a fond smile, reminiscing on all the times you sneaked out of his place, before looking back at Shawn with a mischievous smile of your own, “Tis the damn season.”

Taglist (add / remove yourself): @adelaidestreets, @alilovesshawn, @fallinallincurls, @lights-on-mendes, @mendesficsxbombay, @particularnarry, @shawnmendez, @shawnsreputation, @turtoix, @badreputatiom, @5-seconds-of-mendes, @pupsandducks @musicalkeys, @madatmendes @im-salt-but-not-salty @sunkisseddreamer, @determined-overthinker @fortheloveoftheaussies, @illuminatepotter , @par_r, @perfectlywrongsm @lovelysunset1 @samaratheweirdo @sarcasticallywitty15

#Shawn Mendes #Shawn Mendes fic #Shawn Mendes fanfic #Shawn Mendes imagine #Shawn Mendes story #Shawn Mendes writing #Shawn Mendes blurb #Shawn Mendes fanfiction #Shawn Mendes imagines #Shawn Mendes one shot #Shawn Mendes one shots #Shawn Mendes oneshot #Shawn Mendes oneshots #Shawn Peter Raul Mendes #Shawn #Mendes #Wonder #wow tags really are the worst thing in the world aren't they

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gojos-sidepiece-69 · 3 years

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Tokyo Tech Training- Chapter 6

By the time you woke up on Wednesday, you were still seething with rage. Who does that little shit think he is? Was he still a little boy? He was 28, for Christ’s sake, when was he going to grow up??! You shoved the microscopic train of thought that you found Gojo Satoru’s immaturity charming deep into the depths of your subconsciousness. You felt an unwanted warmth spread upwards and inwards from your thighs when you opened your phone and saw the inappropriate picture Gojo had sent you last night, dangling your lacy pink underwear from his index finger. You were still angry, but your heat pulsed at the thought of your panties in his hands. You shook the thought away when you felt drool shamelessly pooling at the sides of your mouth.

What you hated to dwell on even more was the growing realization that the more Gojo touched you with those long fingers of his, the more his tongue and his overly moisturized, glistening lips ghosted across your skin, the more you felt deprived of the sensation when he was gone. The hunger was only growing. You realized that you had only taken his dick inside of you once, just once...you felt empty. No, you thought to yourself. This was selfish and pathetic on both of your ends; your little schoolgirl crush had gone way too far. You needed to stop fucking him, even if he made your body tremble your throat moan in ways no one else could even dream of doing.

The past five days had been such a chaotic blur that you hadn’t processed the fact that tomorrow was your...your birthday. How had you not realized it when Sukuna first proposed his deal that day at the mall? “The Itadori boy’s room on Thursday at 11 PM. If you’re late, you’ll be punished however I see fit.” You could still hear his deep, demonic voice. So that was how you were going to be spending your birthday evening tomorrow: being tossed around like a plaything by a 1,000 year old curse. You sighed deeply and put your head into your hands, not even surprised anymore at the absurdity of the situation. What the hell were you doing with your life? You came to Tokyo Tech to train to become a Jujutsu Sorcerer, not practice your Kegel techniques with your teacher every other day. Just take things one day at a time, you reminded yourself, as you begrudgingly dragged yourself out of your bed.

Today was your second day filled with exerting and harsh training, but at least it wasn’t as traumatizing as your earlier Field Training expedition. When you got to the grassy training field on campus, you looked around for Gojo, feeling a tiny sliver of disappointment when Maki told you, “He’s out for the day. He’ll be back tomorrow, but us second-years are overlooking your training today.” Damn, you thought. You couldn’t resist how delicious the thought of showing off was for your cocky....fuck, stop thinking about him. It was as if his stupid, dimpled smile was permanently branded to the right side of your brain. You turned around to watch Nobara and Panda goofing around, swinging each other in circles and getting thrown around like frisbees. Track-star Yuji and a stubborn Megumi were racing each other up and down the track like their first names were Usain.

Your friends all looked so cute in their blue tracksuits, you smiled. Toge was yelling, “Salmon! Tuna-salmon!” as Maki practiced her new, crisp cursed-tool technique on him with her incredible agility. “Wait up!” You yelled after Yuji and Megumi, challenging the two boys to a quick hundred-meter dash. “Loser buys us all drinks for my birthday tomorrow!”

Somehow, Megumi lost the race but promised to buy you all drinks tomorrow; you smiled inwardly, thinking about something he once said about having a strong moral compass that couldn’t easily be shaken. At least you knew of two good guys you could rely on, even if they were a spiky sea urchin and an extra large pink cupcake. “Hold on, hold on. Why didn’t you tell us tomorrow was your birthday?! Explain yourself,” Nobara demanded, crossing her arms at you. “I guess I just forgot...” you started, but she wasn’t having it. “I love birthdays, and we’re using yours as a chance to celebrate. I think we all deserve some more sweets and drinks, right? And I can go shopping to get you a present!" She gushed, and before you told her it wasn’t a big deal, she tutted at you. “No ifs and buts. I’ll decorate my dorm and we can all meet there tomorrow at 9 PM. No excuses,” she pointed a finger in your face. “Okay, okay,” you smiled, before wickedly challenging Yuji and Megumi to a rematch.

The rest of your day was filled with arduous exercise and training with your second-years, and it was soon time for bed. You woke up the next day sore again, but thought to yourself that you might as well get used to the muscle ache - it was only going to get worse from here. You were going to have the bones of an 80-year-old soon, if you kept this up. You laughed darkly and nervously at the thought of having arthritis as a teenager, before a spirited Yuji and Nobara bursted into your room yelling, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!! :)” You thanked them, head ringing slightly from their yelling at 8 in the morning. They jumped onto your bed with you, tackling you with warm hugs and tickling you.

Yuji slapped a birthday cake sticker against your cheek, insisting that you must keep it on all day. “Guys, guys, stop,” you laughed, eyes watering from laughing. Megumi stood at the doorway and nodded your way before wishing you a happy birthday. Yuji got up and dragged him into the group hug, Megumi’s face smashing against Yuji’s stomach. Your dark haired friend groaned as the rest of you poked fun at him. This was the best birthday morning you had in a very long time.

You peeled the cake sticker off of your face and stuck it onto your mirror. “Let’s go out again today and hit every good Ramen shop in the damn city! And then go shopping in Harajuku!” Nobara ordered rather than suggested, and you both reeled from excitement. She knew how much you loved food. She grabbed you by the wrists and pulled you all the way to the front of the school, not even giving you time to change. So the four of you stood in front of Tokyo Tech in your pajamas, hailing a cab to get downtown. You spent all day with your friends, and the three of you loved teasing Megumi for his seriousness. You could’ve sworn you saw him smile once, when a waiter at one Ramen restaurant placed a big steaming bowl in front of him. Everyone ate out of each other’s dishes greedily, snatching and stealing.

After that, you headed to shops selling outrageously expensive clothing, including one dedicated to just selling corsets. You all pushed inside, trying on ones that you could never afford. You laughed as Yuji tried on a pink frilly corset, making Megumi wear a deep blue one. Nobara tried to talk you into a plan for shoplifting a set for the both of you to share, but you were too afraid you’d get caught. “Oh my god! Is that Nanami?” Nobara whispered too loudly, and the blonde man turned towards the four of you. He had a lacy set of undergarments in his hands, and Yuji hooted. “Who’s that for, Nanami-Sensei?” He jumped up and down. “I told you not to call me that. And that’s none of your business. Tch.”The man answered in his slightly-flustered deep voice, adjusting his leopard-print tie. He quickly walked over to the cash register to avoid dealing with you four. You all laughed it off, making jokes the whole way out.

“HAHA-and what if he’s into some super weird kinky stuff, too?!” Nobara asked. “I can see it! He’s totally a Fifty Shades of Grey type-man...he’s probably secretly a sadist or something,” Yuji said spookily, waving his arms around.

Before you knew it, you were back in your dorm and it was almost 9 PM, time for your little party. You tugged open your closet doors, wondering what you should wear for the occasion. Since it was your birthday, you decided you could afford to show some skin and let loose for the night. Nobara had even warned you and the boys earlier that if you didn’t wear something nice she would “use the straw doll ritual technique on you.” So you settled on a short black dress with spaghetti straps, still an avid supporter of the Bloutfit. You knocked on Nobara’s door and entered, and seeing all your classmates in there dressed nicely for you warmed your heart: Megumi, Toge, and Yuji wore cute slacks and button-down long sleeve shirts, Nobara wore a pink skirt and a white top, and Maki dressed up in a power suit. Panda was panda.

Your stomach did three consecutive backflips when your eyes landed on none other than Gojo Satoru, leaning back against a wall and smiling at you. Oh, so he was back from his trip already, huh? This try-not-to-stare game was getting really hard when he, too, was wearing nice slacks and a crisp button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He wore his dumb sunglasses, and damn, did this man look expensive.

Megumi shoved two bottles of fancy-looking wine into your hands, keeping his promise. Everyone passed the bottles around, laughing and swaying to music (which Yuji was again in charge of, starting the night off with Walk Down by FNF Chop). You played a couple of intense rounds of charades, and you would never forget Yuji’s impersonation of John Cena. Ever. Because you now had a permanent stain on your dress where you had spat out your wine. See, this is why we wear black, though! You felt someone grab your wrist and lead you outside of the room and into the dimly lit hallway.

Before you could even process it, a certain 6’ 3” tree bent into your ear and whispered, “Happy birthday, princess,” while shoving a small box into your hands. He pulled back up and leaned against the wall, nodding at you with a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. You opened your mouth to angrily argue with him, but he put a finger to your mouth and shushed you. “Just open it.” You narrowed your eyes as you popped the lid of the box open, heat instantly rising to your cheeks. You stared down at a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs. “What the fuck is this?” You asked him bluntly, and he stupidly replied, “Handcuffs, dummy. I was thinking we could use them soon during one of our training sessions. Trust me, you’ll like them,” he winked at you through his sunglasses. Before you could scoff and tell him you weren’t the type of girl who was into bright pink sex toys, he said, “Oh, and one more thing before I forget.”

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the panties he had stolen from your pile of clothes in the shed last night. He took a step toward you and pulled the top of your dress out, slipping your underwear inside. His hand lingered on your chest longer than it should have, until he pulled it back out and placed his hand on the back of his neck. “Well, you’d better get going. Yuji knows about the deal, blah blah blah, so meet Sukuna at his room at 11, okay?” You froze and your stomach dropped. How could you have forgotten? What time was it? You glanced at your phone frantically. “It’s 11:27, you moron! Why didn’t you remind me earlier??” You panicked. “Oh shit, sorry about that. Well, you better get going now, then.” Gojo called after you “Have fun!” And “Be safe!” And “Use protection!” As you scrambled down the hallway to meet your impending doom.

🌹

#saturo gojo #gojo x reader #fanfic #x y/n #jjk smut #fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk anime #jjk #anime #chapter 6 #fanfiction

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unnuevosoltransformalarealidad · 3 years

Text

Foreigner

Title: Foreigner Summary: Your best friends show you that even when your family is not around, you still have a family and that you’re not alone Pairing: J2 x Reader Prompt: Square Filled > Birthday Warnings: None Word Count: 2341 (It’s long, sorry) This was written for the @anyfandomgoesbingo

*Y/N POV*

You’ve met Jared and Jensen a few years ago when you went to a Con after moving into the States. Little did you know, a year later you were going to get cast as a special guest on the show. The guys remembered you from the Con and without even realizing it, they became your best friends.

The guys were always checking on you, if you were fine, if you were comfortable in the place you were staying, they basically adopted you as their kid. Being far away from home and having no family around can be scary. You really appreciated the way they care about you, they were the protective big brothers you needed. You could count on them whenever you needed them. Even Gen and Danneel treated you as their child as well. From being alone and on your own, you ended up with two amazing friends and two sets of family.

After your participation in the show, you tried to see the guys and their families at least twice a month, if your schedules allowed it, but between their filming schedule and your school schedule sometimes it was impossible.

Unfortunately, this year was very difficult for everyone around you, especially your family. With a worldwide pandemic, it was almost impossible for neither them nor you to travel, mostly because your family lived at the end of the world and the tickets were highly expensive and now with all of this, getting into the country was the worst.

Your birthday was coming, and with this, you were going to spend it without your family. It was going to be the first time since you moved in and it broke your heart. Sure, you had your best friends and their families, but you wanted your family as well. Jared and Jensen were worried about you because were avoiding them. They were aware that your birthday was coming and clearly you weren’t in the mood of celebrating it. When the pandemic began, eight months ago, you stayed with Gen and the kids, and a few weeks later you moved with Daneel and her kids, but a few weeks prior to Jared and Jensen coming back from Vancouver, you moved into your apartment alone. All of them knew you pretty well, and they figured out that you isolated yourself because you were sad because your family couldn’t travel to see you. It broke their heart knowing that, and they wanted to do something about it.

———

*Jensen’s POV*

You called Jared through FaceTime. It worried about what was going on with Y/N. She is your best friend and you weren’t able to figure out what was going on in her mind.

-We have to do something with Y/N — Jensen said -Like what? — Jared asked -I don’t know man, something. She stayed 4 days with Daneel and left before I arrived — Jensen commented -Gen told me something similar. I think that the pandemic is affecting her — Jared mentioned -Yeah. I mean, it affected everyone in different ways, but I think that with her is something else — Jensen said -What do you think it is? — Jared inquired -Her birthday is coming and her family is not able to come due to the pandemic — Jensen told Jared -And what do you think we should do? We could throw a party for her, right? — Jared asked -Let’s talk with the girls and figure this out — Jensen said to Jared

Jared and Jensen went to talk with their wives and see what we could come up with. It broke his heart knowing how alone you felt even if Jared and you were your best friends and your other family. Both families came up with a plan. They wanted to make you feel loved and at home.

———

*Y/N’s POV*

You had spent the past few weeks crying and blaming yourself for not buying tickets for your family early in the year. You checked your phone for the first time in days and you had several missed calls from Jared and Jensen, some from your parents, and thousands of text messages from all of them as well. It made you feel even worse, everyone was worried about you and you weren’t having the strength to tell them what was going on.

You were about to call Jensen when you heard a knock on your door. You got up from the couch and went to the door to look through the peephole. It was Jensen. You opened the door and went to the couch -Yes, I know. I should’ve answered. I’m sorry -Hello to you too, sweetheart. I’m glad to see you’re fine — Jensen said closing the door -What do you want? -I was checking on you. Seeing you were fine. If… -Well, now you know I’m fine. You are free to go — you interrupted him -Ok. Let's go -What? -Come spend the rest of the week with us. Please — he begged You just nodded and hugged him. You were tired of being alone. Jensen helped you to pack your stuff, making sure you had enough clothes to stay with him more time than intended. -Why don’t you look for something special? Dani is planning to make a fancy dinner for the kids in a few days — Jensen asked you -Alright — you said not too happy

Once you and Jensen finished packing, he helped you to put your bags in the trunk of the car. You two got in the car and started the trip to Jensen’s house. He had a questioning look and you were getting annoyed.

-What? Spilled it -Nothing, sweetheart. It's just I was expecting to see you at home when I got back from Vancouver, and you weren't there -I didn't want to bother. Besides, I needed to be alone — you admitted -I’m sorry you felt that way. But I wanted to spend some time with you — Jensen said -It’s ok. I’ve just felt like that for quite some time, and I thought that I needed some time alone, that’s why I left before you arrived. I didn’t want to worry — you explained defeated -I get it, believe me. But you should’ve stayed and maybe I could’ve had helped you, ya know. That’s what friends are for — he said and grabbed your hand. You just gave him a small smile. The rest of the trip went on a comfortable silence. You noticed that every once in a while, Jensen looked at you. -I’m fine Jay — you said — Thank you — you smiled Sometime later, Jensen and you arrived at his house. -Home sweet home, sweetheart. Let’s get your bags and head inside — Jensen said

Jensen grabbed your bags with one hand and with the other he hugged you. Once inside the house, Jensen helped you to set your stuff in the guest room. -I’ll let you finish here. I’ll be downstairs -Uhm… Jay -Is everything alright? — He asked you concerned -Where are Dani and the kids? I was expecting her to be here -She went to the Padalecki’s. She wanted you to settle down calmly without the kids around you. -Oh, ok -I’ll let you finish. Whatever you need, just tell me, okay? — You just nodded When Jensen was about to close the door you called him -Jay -Hm? -Thank you. I really appreciate it -Anytime kid — he smiled sadly. And with that, he left you alone in the room.

That night, Jared came and stayed with you saying that Dani and the kids were going to spend the night there because JJ and Thomas didn’t want to stop playing. It was nice to spend some time with your best friends but in the end, you would’ve stayed in your room alone. The days went by and you were closing yourself more and more. Your birthday was a day away and you were without your family. You promised yourself to not contact them because if you did it, it was going to be a lot worse.

The night before your birthday, Dani came to your room and knock softly -Y/N/N, sweetie? — she called -Yes? -Can you be ready in 10? JJ wants to have a fancy tea party — she said -This late? — you asked surprised -Yeah, she said that someone important was coming — Dani explained giggling -Okay. I’ll do my best to impress this person — you joked Dani left you alone in your room again. You weren’t in the mood for playing or anything. You just wanted to go to sleep and ignore the world. Instinctively, you reached for your phone to check the hour and you remembered that you had turned it off. In your hometown, it was already your birthday and you didn’t want to talk to anyone. You were going to be scolded by your parents for doing that, but it was the best you could do to avoid any more suffering.

Ten minutes later, Jensen was knocking on your door -Sweetheart, are you ready? JJ is impatient and she wants us now — Jensen said entering your room -Give me a minute and I’ll be out — you said from the bathroom You weren’t going to disappoint JJ, you just needed some time to get yourself together. Your heart clenched at the thought of pretending to have fun when you were this upset. A minute later you were out -Sorry — you apologized -Everything fine? — Jensen asked seeing your eyes a little puffy -Yeah. With all this happening it’s been a while since I wore makeup and I just kind of touched my eye and it stung a lot -That sound dangerous — Jensen joked -Tell me about it -You look gorgeous, by the way — Jensen complimented you and you got shy — Let’s get going You didn’t know why, but you were nervous. All of it was a mystery for you, Daneel had told you that JJ wanted a fancy tea party and Jensen told you that Dani wanted to make something special for the kids. You were really confused.

When you were about to enter the living room, Jensen sensed you were somewhat nervous and gave you a reassuring smile while squeezing your hand. Something deep inside of you knew what was about to happen, even though you’ve never told them when exactly was your birthday. When you stepped inside the living room, JJ came running and hugged you -Are we on time? — you asked her returning the hug -Yes! Let’s go to the table — she said and drugged you inside the living room JJ kept you distracted that you hadn’t realized Jensen and Dani were gone and it was just you and the kids. You kept glancing to the kitchen to make sure they were there without ignoring JJ and all her rambling. She definitely was having fun with you.

Sometime later, JJ left you saying she needed to go to the bathroom leaving you in the living room, alone with her toys. You got up to sit on the couch when Dani entered the living room -How did you manage to get alone? -Nature called — you smiled -How are you feeling? I’ve seen you weren’t in the greatest mood -Honestly? Not great. I miss my family a lot. It’s been a long time since I hugged my mom — you admitted -How long since the last time you visit? -Almost two years. The last time I went, I stayed less than a week. I had to get back to work and they didn’t like it, so we kind of had a fight. I never had the chance to forgive them in person — you said cleaning a fallen tear -They’d probably understood. You shouldn’t worry about it -I was planning on staying for a few months, but I guess it wasn’t the time to do it — you mentioned -I can’t imagine how hard can it can be — Dani said squeezing your hand You hadn’t realized but you had started to cry, it was the first time in months that you finally broke. You were in so much pain and here you were, crying in front of one of your best friends. Dani came closer to you and hugged you, letting you cry on her shoulder. It warmed your heart knowing you could trust her and shared these things.

You felt the couch dipped on the other side from you. You knew it was Jensen, you could recognize his scent everywhere. -Hey, it’s ok — he said caressing your back When you looked at him, he had the sweetest smile on his face -Happy birthday sweetheart — he said In front of you, there was a cake with lit candles, Jared and Gen were with the kids, JJ and the twins were on the other side of the table, and there was a huge sign on the wall with balloons -What’s all of this? — you said crying -We knew that your birthday was coming and neither you nor your family was able to travel and you were upset about it — Jensen explained -So we talked with the girls, and came with this idea to celebrate your birthday — Dani explained -And to remind you that we are your family too — Jared said -And you can count on us, whenever you need — Gen commented You were a mess, you couldn’t believe it. Your best friends, your second family, was the greatest thing that could happen to you after moving in. -Thank you so much, guys. You don’t even know how much this means for me. I love you so much — you admitted When the pandemic started, you thought you were going to spend your birthday alone, instead, you were with your second family. It was the best birthday gift ever.

Tag List (Let me know if you want to be added)

#anyfandomgoesbingo2020 #j2 x reader #jared padalecki x you #jared padalecki x reader #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #padackles x reader #supernatural fanfiction #jensen x reader x jared #jared x reader x jensen

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sellyoursoulforagoodfic · 3 years

Text

Shelbys at Somme: Chapter 8

Thomas X Reader

3744

Summary: Tensions grow between Grace and Reader when Grace is informed one of her co-workers is dead. Reader meets Ada.

by @adventuresintooblivion

Grace was due for a rendezvous yesterday, but she hadn’t a moment of free time until the Garrison Pub closed its doors two hours after it was supposed to. She had called into the station, but no one answered, which led to her practically sprinting to the nearest cabby who might take her to see Inspector Campbell.

After an all too expensive ride, Grace strode into Inspector Campbell’s office, clutching her purse between herself and the world. At first he didn’t even look up from his papers. It wasn’t until Grace cleared her throat that he spoke.

“You’re late.” He slowly looked up. Something about his posture had changed since last Grace saw him. While before he had stood tall and proper, now he held a tension in his movements.

Grace glanced down. “The Pub kept me working late yesterday. Everything was closed by the time I was free to contact you.”

Inspector Campbell grumbled, “You could’ve come over.”

She raised her eyebrow. “To your house Sir? Isn’t that dangerous?”

Not to mention wildly inappropriate?

The Inspector ran his hand through his thinning hair. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. But your father would want me to look after you, so I can’t have you missing deadlines like this.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, why didn’t you send anyone now?”

It was his turn to break eye contact. “Something has happened. I’m not sure how big it is, so I didn’t want to endanger your cover just in case.”

“What happened?”

He grimaced, “We questioned that girl you gave us a picture of. We’d been keeping an eye on her, but when she contacted Thomas and stuck around we thought he might be trying to fence the guns through her.”

Grace felt blood rushing in her ears as the world dropped from underneath her. “W...Who did she turn out to be?”

Inspector Campbell shrugged, “Y/F/N. She was an old war buddy of his. Worked in his company as what they called a Runner. Distracted the Germans while they dug.”

“She joined the army and fought?”

The Inspector nodded but didn’t elaborate. He started shuffling through papers until finally he held one out for Grace. When she took it there was a list of names with Y/N’s picture next to it. Each name had a different occupation listed next to it along with locations.

Grace frowned, “Is this all her?”

He shrugged, “Supposedly, though she’s never done jail time for anything. I’m half convinced most of these she just made for fun.”

“So how did you get her to come in? I didn’t think she’d be the type to offer up information for free.” Grace folded the paper and tucked it away in her purse.

Inspector Campbell’s features darkened. “Oh, it wasn’t free. She gave us no choice, we had to corner her. When she tried to escape, she killed Matthew.”

She froze, “Matthew’s dead?”

He nodded. “The funeral is this weekend. Due to your current assignment, I can’t allow you to attend, but we are all pitching in to help his wife and son. At least until she can figure something out.”

Grace nodded and practically threw what little cash she had on hand at him. She’d always liked Matthew. They’d bonded during the late hours working to neutralize the IRA. When Inspector Campbell had offered to take them both to Birmingham, Grace had even helped him pack up his whole family. Now he was gone.

Something about the situation didn’t all she could think about was her friend’s tired smile. “Please tell me you at least got something.”

He paused for too long but Grace was desperate for an answer, “We have a possible location.”

She nodded. It was all she needed to keep going, to not run out of here right now and give Y/N a sound lashing.

〜

The next day Grace wiped her hands on her apron, her foul mood having settled in to stay. Her mind kept wandering back to images of Matthew. While Inspector Campbell hadn’t gone into details about his death, her imagination provided plenty of gory details for her to mull over.

She knew Y/N was upstairs. Hell, the topic of last night’s search party was all she heard about all day. Details were fuzzy at best but from what she could gather Tommy had roused half the Peaky Blinders in the late hours of the night to track her down.

Grace tried to strike up conversation multiple times with her patrons, but they were all dead on their feet. Several of them went so far as to nap next to the pints they’d been nursing moments before. Even Harry’s stern glares weren’t enough to keep them awake.

Yet Grace was determined. If she couldn’t get information from them, she’d get it from Thomas when he returned.

〜

It was late afternoon by the time Y/N awoke. For the first few moments she lay there perfectly still and enjoyed her last couple minutes of peace. Then she shifted and it was all over. Her muscles spasmed, causing her to lose her breath for the briefest moment.

“Well, damn, I was wondering when you’d join us.” Nearby a woman sat with a book splayed open on her lap.

Y/N slowly sat up, her arms shaky beneath her.

The woman stood suddenly. "Hey now, don't you think about getting up alright? Tommy gave me strict orders to keep you off your feet."

Y/N chuckled, "Thank you for the attention, Miss…?"

She waved away Y/N's feeble attempts to dismiss her, "The name is Ada Shelby."

A smile spread across Y/N's lips. "So you're Ada? I was wondering when I'd get to meet you."

She nodded proudly, "The one and only. Now listen here, missy. You'll not get out of this bed until you're healthy again. You hear me?"

"Yes, Ma'am." Y/N tried to hide her growing smile.

Ada ruffled Y/N's hair. "Don't be cheeky with me. You're the one that got caught by a copper of all things. Now, what would you like to do today?"

Y/N shrugged. "Just grab me a couple books and I'll be fine. If you need to go do something I don't need to be babysat."

"Well, while that might be the case I'm not supposed to really be out and about either." Ada fidgeted with the ties on her dress.

Y/N raised her eyebrow. "I'd ask how come, but it doesn't look like you're comfortable sharing."

"I know I can trust you, otherwise you wouldn't be living above the Garrison right now. No it's just… I haven't said it aloud yet. Not to anyone except Aunt Pol."

Y/N shrugged, "I mean, I'm not really sure where I stand. So really, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Ada sat back, drawing her shawl closer around herself. After a moment Y/N noticed it was the same as Pol's just a different color. Wonder which one of them knits.

Then Ada spoke so softly Y/N almost missed it, "I'm pregnant."

The words hung in the air allowing their weight to settle as the implications slowly became clear.

Y/N bit her lip, "And you've only told Pol. Yikes."

She glanced down, "Yeah, he's missing too. Do you think.. He’ll come back?"

"I'm not exactly the expert on that. “Y/N paused for a moment. “But I did also come back from the dead. That’s a weird case though, so I’m not sure I’m the best person to ask."

Ada smiled sadly at her. "You really came back for Tommy?"

Y/N blushed, "Don't say it too loudly. You're gonna make me sound like even more of an idiot."

She burst out laughing, the color returning to her cheeks. "Come on, let's get you some breakfast."

"I didn't get a chance to buy any groceries yet." Y/N bit her lip.

Ada bounced back up excitedly. "Don't you worry about that. I stopped by the market on the way here."

"I hope you're not hurting for money then, because I have absolutely no way to pay you back right now." Y/N felt a pit forming in her stomach. Or pay rent for that matter.

Ada turned towards the kitchenette, the room so small Y/N caught herself checking to make sure the blankets wouldn't get caught underfoot. She rifled through cupboards and moments later the smell of food filled the space between them.

Ada finally answered, "Don't worry about paying for anything, Y/N. Tommy would lose his head if anyone asked you for a dime."

Y/N shifted around until she was sitting at the foot of the bed, closer to Ada. "Yes, making a deal with the Devil is the perfect way to never worry about anything ever again."

Ada threateningly waved a wooden spoon at her, "You calling my brother the Devil? Cause you'd be right."

They burst into laughter, an easy chatter formed between them. Ada remained for a large part of the day. Eventually the sun began to set and the two women were interrupted by a knock on the door.

Thomas waited barely a moment before slowly poking his head in. “I hope everyone here is decent.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “It’s not gonna be the time you’ve seen me in my underwear, Thomas.”

Ada cast her a somewhat scandalized look but was quickly distracted by Thomas’ soft chuckle. “Yet you looked manlier than most the men you were changing next to.”

Y/N gasped dramatically as she clutched at her heart. Thomas’ chuckle rose into a full on laughter.

“What kind of sorcery is this? I haven’t seen you smile like that since you found out John tried to stick it in the wrong hole his first time.”

“John did what?” Y/N’s mouth fell open in astonishment.

Ada glanced between the two shrugging, “He said his reasoning was that ‘that’s how animals did it.’”

Thomas shook his head. “I still can’t fucking believe-”

Laughter filled the room, however the mood was dampened quickly as Y/N groaned. Thomas rushed forward, kneeling beside the bed while Ada stood nearby frozen as they waited.

Finally, after catching her breath, Y/N grimaced, “Oh stop your fussing. A good laugh is worth a few loose ribs.”

“You’re supposed to be healing,” Thomas growled.

She dismissed his concern with a small wave, “If I spend all my time healing I won’t have any left for living. Stop worrying so much about me Shelby, I’ll be fine.”

He shook his head before turning towards Ada, “Would you mind giving us some privacy? I have to talk to Y/N about a couple things.”

Ada huffed, but soon her steps could be heard receding down the stairs.

Thomas slowly turned back to Y/N. “How are you holding up?”

Y/N shrugged, glancing out the window into the abyss. When did it get so dark?

He took her hand in his, so gently she almost didn’t recognize his touch. “Y/N, don’t spare me the details. I can’t do my job if you don’t tell me how bad it is.”

“What exactly is your job when it comes to me?” Her voice was the barest whisper.

There was a long pause as the answer hung in the air, the one they needed to be said before either of them could move on. It was their last chance to escape from each other; if he pushed her away now, she would leave. Disappear. Once again becoming the ghost of his past.

Thomas bowed his head, pressing his lips to the back of her hand. “I’m going to look after you.”

Only the slightest tremor in her voice betrayed her, “You don’t owe me that, Thomas.”

“Not everything is about payment, Y/N?”

She raised her eyebrow. “Is this the same Birmingham that I left five years ago?”

He released an amused hum from somewhere deep in his throat, finally looking up at her. The dark circles had etched themselves deeper beneath his eyes. A tightness around the corners reminded Y/N of the darkest days in the trenches. Instinctively she reached up to cup his cheek and brush the worry away with her thumb.

“Rough day, Tommy?”

It was as if the whole room released a deep sigh, “It always is.”

Y/N gestured to the chair Ada had been using, “Wanna talk about it?”

Thomas ignored the chair and sat at the foot of her bed, his hip pressed against her leg and his elbows resting on his knees. Old habits die hard, don’t they?

He gathered his thoughts, but soon he was catching her up on a myriad of events. About the horse and the unfortunate turn of events that had taken place. The guns. Thomas’ meeting with Inspector Campbell and how close he had come to throttling the man. Danny’s head being payment for the death of a man he’d caused during an episode of shell shock.

For the most part Y/N listened, offering advice where it seemed to fit, until he brought up Danny, “They want you to kill him with witnesses?”

He nodded. “I’ve already taken care of that. A casing full of sheep brains.”

Y/N couldn’t stop the smile that played across her lips. “This is why I love you. So do you have a good hiding place for the guns or are they still at the docks?”

Thomas’s mind went blank, then suddenly every thought he’d ever had felt like it was clashing together as he registered what Y/N had just said. His heart was pounding in his ears. The room was too hot and not warm enough all at once. It took every ounce of control he had left to control his breathing enough to speak.

“W...what did you just say?”

“Hmmm? I was asking if you had a good hiding spot for the guns yet.”

“No...Um, before that.”

Y/N furrowed her brow, “I was asking if they demanded witnesses.”

Thomas finally let himself look at her. There was no indication that she was messing with him. No tell tale smirk or signature twinkle in her eye. She just sat there confused on why he was asking her to repeat herself. He ran his fingers through his hair.

His voice was gruff when he finally answered, “No, I don’t have a place picked out for the guns yet.” He honestly already had several ideas, but he couldn’t conjure up a single one right now.

Y/N glanced around the room thinking for a moment. “Why don’t you put them in Danny’s grave?”

“He’s not actually dead. I thought I made that clear.”

“Yeah, but if he was dead you’d dig him a grave come hell or high water. So you’ll have to dig him one anyways so that no one gets suspicious. Plus, this won’t be related to any other contraband that the Peaky Blinders deal with so if someone snitches on you, it won’t be there.”

Thomas blinked slowly before he nodded. “That is actually quite brilliant. I’m a little disappointed I didn’t come up with that myself.”

Y/N shrugged, “One of my many random skills, hiding things.”

Thomas wasn’t exactly sure what to say about that, but he had one last thing to tell her. After her slip-up in the previous moment, the words felt like poison on his lips. “I’ve also asked Grace to the races.”

“Did you just need her for a plus one?” Y/N raised her eyebrow.

Just say yes.

“No, Billy Kimber owns the race tracks, and we’re expanding. Making legal money and all that.” He pressed his lips against his clasped hands, wishing he didn’t have to answer what came next.

Y/N frowned, confused. “And what does this have to do with Grace?”

Thomas sighed. “Mr. Kimber is known to enjoy sampling the pleasures of women. She asked to work for me, so I plan on offering her up to him as part of the bargain.”

“Did you ask her if she was ok with that?”

“No.”

She smacked his shoulder, a sharp sting exploding from his arm. “Tommy!”

“Hey, don’t hit me, Ms. Cracked Ribs.”

She shook her finger threateningly at him. “It’s Ms. Broken Ribs to you, and I’ll smack you as much as I damn well please. You can’t just go offering up a girl’s dignity like that.”

Thomas turned and grabbed her hands in his, preventing any further retaliation. “She asked to work for me, Y/N.”

Y/N growled, “She’s not from the underbelly of Birmingham. Or any other city for that matter. You can tell from a god damned mile away. Shit like this ruins women.”

He paused. “You may be right, but I don’t have anything else he wants.”

She let out a deep sigh. “What were you gonna offer him?”

He told her, and she nodded. They sat in silence for a while as they mulled over what to do about all this. At the end of the day they both knew if he brought Grace she would end up having to go with Kimber sooner or later. He expected it to say the least. And it wasn’t just Grace, any woman Thomas brought would be offered up as a bargaining chip.

Finally Y/N spoke, “She may have to go with him, but she doesn’t have to stay with him.”

“And break the deal?”

She shook her head, “Save Kimber. Like tell him she has something.”

He smirked at her. “So much for preserving dignity.”

Y/N shrugged. “At least she won’t have to sleep with him.”

Thomas glanced away, “Yeah.”

Y/N glanced down. Her hands were still in his, though his grip had loosened into something more casual. A small thrill went through her as she realized how much smaller her hands were compared to his.

She stammered as she spoke, “It’s getting late.”

Thomas took a deep breath broken out of his thoughts. “Yeah it is. I’ll head out and give you some peace. If you need anything, come get me.” He stood, letting Y/N’s hands slip from his grasp.

The air was cool on her skin compared to his touch. She found herself following him with her gaze.“Come get you? I thought you lived at the Shelby house?” she asked.

He paused. “I’m going to be staying in the room next door for a while, until you’re better at least.” And with that he was gone.

〜

Y/N awoke in the late hours of the night. Darkness had escaped it’s daily chains, exploded from every nook and cranny and coated the room in a thick film. It took her a moment to shake off the disorientation before she remembered where she was.

Then she heard what had woken her. Through the wall she heard a cry. She couldn’t tell at first what it was for, but then it came again. Thomas.

She stood slowly, pain shooting up her back with every step as she shuffled out of her room and down the hallway. When she finally reached the rickety door she pressed her ear against it.

“NO...Freddie!”

That was enough. Y/N pounded on the door. On a normal day with the noise of people, it would’ve been deep and resounding. But now it was so deafening she caught herself wincing as she hit the wood.

A bewildered voice answered, “Wha..Who’s there?”

“Thomas it’s me. Open up.”

A shuffling sound and rattle later the door opened slowly. Thomas blinked at her blearily with bloodshot eyes. Y/N waited patiently for him to come back to reality just enough.

He asked groggily, “Is everything ok?”

“You’re having nightmares.”

Thomas stiffened, glancing around as if the whole world might be listening. He was about to answer when Y/N stepped forward, gently placing her hand on his chest.

His skin was hot and damp, the sweat having left a small layer that made him glisten in the barest of light. The air inside the room was hot as it poured through the crack in the door, trying to escape.

He placed his hand over hers. “What’re you doing?”

She looked up at him, somehow finding his eyes in the darkness. “Let me in.”

“She says at the entrance of the Devil’s den.” A soft rumble rolled from deep within his chest, a sleepy laugh.

“If you think I’m not a devil myself then I really need to jog your memory.”

“Y/N.”

Every ounce of fight in him suddenly dissolved away. After so many years of nightmares. After so long in the darkness. After watching her die a thousand times in his dreams. He had no will left to say ‘No’.

Y/N pushed her way inside, careful not to bump into anything that could make her fall. The room was much smaller than hers, and the window wasn’t open even the slightest, accounting for the heat.

As she walked inside she let her hand fall from his chest to intertwine with his fingers. Thomas let her lead him back towards the bed. It was actually smaller than the one she had in the other room, but that didn’t stop her from laying down and pressing her back against the wall.

She waved for him to join her, “Come on, Thomas. Before the room becomes freezing again.”

His brows furrowed as he tried to process what was going on. “I don’t think this will help your ribs heal.”

“Just shut up and get in here.”

He crawled in slowly, careful not to jostle her. Thomas paused before laying his head down. Y/N finally got tired of waiting and slid back onto the bed proper and maneuvered him until his head rested on her stomach.

Her fingers ran through his hair as he mumbled, “This isn’t hurting you?”

“The broken ones are higher up. And while I’m pretty sure any doctor would be shitting themselves right now, I’m fine.”

“Y/N,” he protested.

“Hush now, and get some sleep.”

After a few moments he chuckled, “My feet are hanging off the edge a bit.”

She hummed as sleep reclaimed her, “We’ll just have to sleep in mine tomorrow.”

“The scandal.”

“Damn right.”

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders imagine #reader insert

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hermannsthumb · 3 years

Note

Hermann preparing for date night with Newt by selecting where to eat solely by what he has a coupon for. Or, ya know, frugal connoisseur Hermann. <3 ksci

inspired by a convo re: the fact that ksci @k-sci-janitor likes to make fun of me for never letting a coupon go to waste even if it means walking like 2 miles in the cold to use it :/ like im gonna NOT get a free Baja blast. (there is one small little allusion to some M rated stuff towards the end in this)

-------------------

It’s not a rare occurrence that Hermann will treat Newt to dinner when the mood of dining out strikes them, but the point is that he’s doing it in a way that’s supremely…shifty tonight. Well, maybe not shifty. Weird? For one thing, he didn’t tell Newt where they were going until they were already on the bus headed there, for another, it’s their sharing-a-lab-anniversary, which tradition dictates they evenly split a bill (even if the origins have more to do with both trying to show up the other and take advantage and order the most expensive shit on the menu). The weirdest thing is definitely that, when Hermann got up to pay the bill five minutes ago—a small, folded piece of paper clutched in his hand—he left his wallet laying next to his wine glass on the table.

Newt stirs his straw around in his cup of soda, clinking ice cubes against the sides, and squints at the wallet. Did Hermann bring cash to pay with? He could’ve stuck some in his pockets without Newt seeing, or his bank card, even, which would explain the forlorn wallet. Or maybe forgetting the wallet was totally an accident, and he’ll be back in a few seconds to pick it up and pay for real when he realizes. That’s probably it.

When Hermann comes back to their table, though, he doesn’t bother with his wallet—he takes his seat, picks up his wine glass, and tips it at Newt. “That was quite lovely, wasn’t it?”

Newt hums. “It was.”

“I quite liked the fish I got,” Hermann says.

“I loved my noodles,” Newt says. “We should try to copy the recipe back at the base.” He sets his straw delicately on the table. “How’d you pay without your wallet?”

“My wallet?” Hermann says. He makes a show of catching sight of the wallet, arches his eyebrows in mock surprise, and picks it up. Here we go. “Oh, goodness. Did I forget this? Well—it’s not as if I needed it…” He tucks it neatly into his inner jacket pocket.

“Hermann,” Newt says, rolling his eyes. “What’d you do, get a hundred-percent discount by reminding them we saved the world a few months ago?” Hermann shakes his head, and takes a long sip of his wine. “Did you write a check? Did you pretend we got food poisoning or something?” Hermann shakes his head again, and this time, his mouth begins to creep up into a smug smile. Newt remembers the piece of paper. “Dude. You got us a fucking Groupon. No wonder you were being so weird about what I was ordering!”

(“I think we ought to stick with the entrees labelled B, Newton,” Hermann had said, flipping a page forward in Newt’s menu. “They look—er—far better.”

“More expensive,” Newt had said.

“What’s it matter? I’m paying.” Hermann had pointed at the noodle dish Newt had ended up getting. “Look, I reckon you’d like that.”)

Hermann finally grins triumphantly. “I did—and saved us quite a decent from our ‘date night’ fund. Pity it didn’t extend to dessert, I suppose, but we could always find some ice cream at the commissary later.”

Newt can’t even pretend to be exasperated. The noodles rocked. And they would’ve rocked even more if he knew that Hermann was saving them a few bucks. “You’re such a weirdo,” Newt says, shaking his head, though he’s mirroring Hermann’s grin. “Is that why you picked this place?”

“Not entirely,” Hermann says. He takes a long, slow sip of his wine. “Mostly I picked it to make a point.”

“About?”

“About my being right.”

Newt sighs. Only Hermann would dredge up old arguments on Lab Anniversary Night. It wasn’t even an argument, really—all that happened was that Hermann asked Newt to hand him his glasses cleaning cloth from his parka, and it took Newt almost ten minutes because Hermann’s pockets were so jam-packed with a million little coupons for everything from granola bars (which they can get from the mess hall for free) to mouthwash (which Newt can snag from the commissary, also for free, whenever they need it) that he couldn’t find anything but. A majority of them were expired. Then Newt remarked on how Hermann was nuts, and Hermann remarked on how Newt didn’t understand the value of making smart financial decisions, and they went back and forth for a bit like that. This was a whole week ago, too. In terms of Newt and Hermann arguments, that’s more than ancient history. “Are we really talking about the fucking coupons now?” Newt says.

“Frugality pays off,” Hermann says, cryptically. “Now we really ought to head out. The forecast is calling for rain, and I don’t fancy getting caught in it.”

They get caught in the rain anyway. Newt invites himself over to Hermann’s bunk to dry off, because Hermann bought a space heater back when they were stationed in Russia, and it travelled with him here to aid through the long nights of overpowering A/C. Right now, it’s aiding Newt through stripping out of his wet clothes. When he’s down to just his boxers, he snags the quilt from Hermann’s bed, and waits for him to finish up in his little en suite bathroom to hopefully catch a hot shower. One of the unexpected side effects of the world not ending and most nonessential personnel leaving the ‘dome in doves is that they almost never run out of hot water anymore. Newt can take a shower at midnight and not freeze his ass off. It’s awesome, really.

Hermann emerges from the bathroom in a dorky little pair of pajamas, a dressing gown knotted at his waist. “Oh, Newton,” he sighs, and prods at Newt’s blanket cocoon with his cane, “not my grandmother’s quilt.”

“I’m dry!” Newt says. “Mostly!”

He gives up the quilt to Hermann and ducks into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He stuck a spare toothbrush in the medicine cabinet at some point, for when he was too sleepy and lazy after makeout sessions to go back to his bunk, and sure enough he finds it alongside a suspiciously generic-looking tube of toothpaste. It doesn’t even have a label. He doesn’t think much of it until he starts to use it, which is when he immediately gags and begins to rinse his mouth out with hot water. “What the hell is this toothpaste?” he chokes out. “It tastes—awful.”

“Ah,” Hermann says. He ducks his head into the bathroom, looking a bit sheepish. “Well. I found a coupon for that brand, and I know it’s not very, er, pleasant, but—I saved forty percent, Newton.” Newt continues to rinse his mouth out, this time adding some mouthwash into the mix. “Oh, really, now you’re just being dramatic. It’s only toothpaste.”

“Dude,” Newt says. “I feel like I just rubbed, like, acid cement all over my gums.”

“Ah,” Hermann repeats, guiltily.

A bit later, Newt goes in to kiss Hermann goodnight as they settle into Hermann’s bed together, but pulls back with a sad little pout when Hermann merely flinches away from him. “Oh, Newton, I’m sorry,” Hermann says, quickly wrapping his arms around Newt and kissing his neck. It softens the blow somewhat. “It’s that bloody toothpaste. You still smell like it. You’re right, it’s rubbish.”

“Tell you what,” Newt says, grumpily. “I’ll buy you a brand new tube tomorrow. My treat.”

Newt mostly forgets about the coupon thing for a bit. The odd little item crops up in the lab that makes him roll his eyes fondly at Hermann, but nothing as major as the Groupon or toothpaste. Hermann’s preferred tea brand swapped out for something Newt’s never heard of in a flavor that Hermann clearly detests, if his face when he drinks it is anything to go by, for example, the chocolate digestives Hermann keeps in his desk replaced with plain ones, his new box of chalk all in a salmony shade of pink and weak enough to snap apart under his fingers if he presses down too hard on his chalkboard. When Newt asks about the changes, the answer’s always the same: Hermann had a coupon for them, or they were less expensive than his usual. Newt just wishes he could understand where this sudden bought of thriftiness came from. It’s not like it was back during the war, where they had to pinch pennies and save in every area they could if they wanted to supplement their nonexistent funding. They’re actually getting paychecks now, on behalf of the UN’s guilty conscience! They have free room and board! They even put a few neat bucks away from some (heavily-redacted) interviews they did back in late January.

What Newt’s getting at is Hermann doesn’t have to limit them ordering out sushi to only places with free delivery on date nights, or skimp on his pizza toppings (four-topping down to two) so they can use a better coupon, or buy any of those subpar teabags or digestives or toothpaste tubes. But he just…is.

The tipping point occurs on a Saturday night about a month after the Groupon incident.

“Nn. Hermann. Do that again.”

“Do—?"

“Yeah.” Newt groans, turning his head to the side. “Oh, shit.”

“Newton—” Hermann kisses his throat. “Newton, you’re—”

“Wait.” Newt pauses. “What is that?”

“Oh, er.” Hermann pulls his hand away. “You mean the—the—?”

“Yeah. It feels…weird.” He frowns. “That is not what we used last time.”

“Oh. No. It isn’t.” Hermann clears his throat. “Well, Newton—see—we were out, so I thought I’d—I’d buy a larger bottle, to last us longer, and I happened to find a coupon for this lovely—er—gallon-sized—”

“You’re kidding,” Newt says.

“Only I thought it was a very frugal purchase,” Hermann says. “We do tend to, er, burn through it rather quickly.”

Newt rolls away from him. “Dude. We need to have a talk.”

Some brief amount of time later, they sit together on the end of Hermann’s bed, clad in their pajama bottoms and, in Hermann’s case, one of Newt’s sweatshirts. Newt waits until Hermann meets his eyes blushingly before he proceeds. “What is up with you lately?” he says. “You’ve been acting so—weird. Weirder than usual,” he amends. “Since when have you cared about saving a couple bucks on random shit like pizza?”

Hermann fidgets, and sighs, and finally reaches to pull open the drawer of his nightstand. He retrieves a piece of paper folded into quadrants, and for a wild moment Newt thinks it might be another Groupon. “Oh, I wanted it to be a surprise,” Hermann says. “I was going to wait until it was all finalized—but it’s close enough now, so I suppose there’s no harm in it.” He thrusts the paper out at Newt, and Newt—still wondering if it’s not another Groupon—unfolds it with surprise to find what looks like a flight itinerary. Two tickets for Hong Kong to Boston, with a short layover; then two more tickets a week after they land for a short trip from Boston to some town in Maine Newt recognizes as being seaside. They’re made out to Hermann Gottlieb and Newton Geiszler and purchased a little over a week ago.

“You kept telling me you wanted me to meet your father,” Hermann says, and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “And—I thought it might be nice, to have an—er—vacation, for a few days. We’ve certainly earned one. And it’s not as if we have any truly pressing obligations at the moment that can’t be put on hold for a week or two. I was planning on booking us a little cottage up in Maine—or maybe just a hotel room, I hadn’t decided—but we don’t have to if you don’t—”

“And you’ve been saving up for it?” Newt interrupts.

“For a few months now,” Hermann says. “Since February, in fact.”

“And that’s why…?”

The tips of Hermann’s ears turn red. “Every penny helped,” he says.

Newt carefully re-folds the itinerary, sets it aside, and then kisses Hermann soundly. It would be safe to say that Hermann’s thoughtful, romantic moods tend to be on the spontaneous side, probably as spontaneous as they are in Newt, so when one strikes Hermann (and in such a perfectly Hermann way as this one) Newt doesn’t like to take it for granted. “Of course I wanna go on vacation with you,” Newt says. “You rock. Seriously.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Hermann says, looking pleased.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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themanicmagician · 4 years

Text

Shipwrecked [2/4]

[AO3]

Summary: When Redd’s boat crashes upon the shore of Bastion Island, Tom reluctantly takes him in while he recovers. Tom despises Redd for his past deceit, but when he has no choice but to spend time with him, Tom is reminded why he fell in love with the wily fox in the first place.

Tom felt a knot loosen in his chest. Relief washed over him. Redd was awake and lucid, and feeling well enough to quip.

But then Redd kept talking.

“This is your bedroom?” Redd shifted, leaning his back against the mattress. He scanned the Spartan room, and his nose scrunched up in distaste. “It’s so....basic. Not your style at all.”

Tom hated the small speck of him that still yearned for Redd’s approval. He crossed his arms. “You’re hardly the expert on what I like.”

Tom’s words landed—he saw Redd wince—but the fox brushed it off, and changed tack.

“Where’d you sleep, then? Futon?”

“Couch.”

Redd patted the bed, and leered. “Could’ve shared with me. It’s plenty big enough. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Enough, Redd. You’re only here in my home because I possess common decency. Nothing more. As soon as your arm is healed, you’re gone.”

Redd clutched at his chest with his good arm, in mock agony.

“Oh babe, you can be so cold!”

Tom ignored him. “What possessed you to attempt to sail a ship, of all things? You don’t have any experience.”

“Don’t worry about it. It was simple enough to figure out.”

“Obviously it wasn’t.”

“Hey, the storm wasn’t my fault.”

“You could have died—and for what? Another stupid scheme of yours, no doubt.”

“I resent that remark. Scheme! Scheme, he says. I’m out here because I’ve developed a new business venture. The art on my boat is real.” Brief alarm skirted across his face. “Wait, what happened to my things?”

“They’re in Blathers’ custody.”

“That featherbrain can’t keep them. They’re real, you know. I had this whole plan. I was going to go island to island. Animals are so suspicious these days. They actually want to inspect the merchandise before they buy, can you believe it?”

“I don’t want to hear about this.”

Redd plowed on, as if Tom hadn’t spoken. “—and once they placed an order, I’d say oh, you can’t take it right away. I have to ship it to you.”

“And you’d mail them a fake.”

“I’d mail them a replica. The copies that I paint myself are flawless,” Redd bragged. Greed and delight glinted in his eyes. “You’d never be able to tell the difference. I’ll wager you 5,000 bells your pal Blathers wouldn’t, either.”

“I can’t believe you,” Tom snapped. “You haven’t changed one bit.”

“Why tamper with perfection?”

“You—ugh!”

Tom stomped out of the room.

Timmy and Tommy were right outside, evidently listening in. They jumped guiltily as Tom caught sight of them, and tried to look busy; Tommy folded a blanket and draped it over the back of the couch, as Timmy collected up used cups to put in the kitchen sink.

“I’m going out for a bit.” Tom told them, as he pulled on a jacket. “Stay here, and make sure he does too.”

The Nooklings chirped an affirmative.

May was cold and rainy this year, and today proved no different. Tom zipped up his jacket to ward off the worst of the chill. It was misting out, but not badly enough to justify an umbrella.

Tom didn’t have a destination in mind, exactly. He wasn’t going to Resident Services today. Isabelle was certainly capable of taking the reins for a day or two. Tom just needed fresh air, just needed to clear his head.

Redd hadn’t changed at all. He hadn’t grown, he hadn’t learned anything. He was still the same as he ever was—greedy, selfish, conniving. And utterly, absolutely, insufferable.

There had been moments, before, when he had lived on the mainland, when Redd frequented his town. He’d considered reaching out. But he’d never scraped up the nerve to do so. It wasn’t his responsibility either, he’d reasoned at the time. Tom was the wronged party. Redd should have been the one to approach, not him.

And now the decade-long silence between them was shattered at last, and Redd acted as if there had never been a massive fracture in their relationship, as if nothing at all had changed. No apologies, no remorse, not even a thank you for the rescue.

“Mr. Nook!” Flurry trotted up to him. “I’ve heard the news. How is your friend doing today?”

He supposed there was no hope of keeping it quiet. Any speck of news spread through Bastion like wildfire. Isabelle, bless her heart, was an incorrigible gossip.

“Redd is doing much better today, thank you.”

“I wanted you to give him something from me. Just to borrow, powderpuff!” She took out a book from her pockets and handed it over. It was an old leather-bound book, a collection of fairy tales. It was worn with age, but evidently well cared for. “I don’t know if it’s to his taste or not, but I always read it when I’m sick and it cheers me right up!”

“Thank you, Flurry. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.” Redd wouldn’t, but Tom would never let the sweet hamster know that.

He continued his walk, and soon found himself on the beach. He followed the shoreline around the island until he reached the outcropping of rocks by Del’s and Lucha’s houses.

Tom knew what to expect, but the sight was still jarring. The hull of the boat was gouged on the rocks. Half of the vessel gaped open. The mast was snapped off at its base, and the sail, long lost to the tides. Tom stepped on the rocks to get a closer look. The remains of the boat had been secured to the rock by rope; Alex and the others, presumably, had been the ones to anchor it.

Tom peered inside the exposed hull. The boat was tilted at an angle. Barrels had rolled to one end of the ship. Several had smashed apart in the impact. Tom winced. How badly had Redd been thrown in the crash? Had he been above deck, or below?

There didn’t appear to be anything of value left inside the ship. The villagers had done well removing all the fragile artwork.

Enough of the boat remained that they wouldn’t have to build Redd a new boat from scratch, at least. The boat would have to be patched up for Redd to travel. The seaplanes weren’t built to transport someone from Bastion all the way out to the mainland.

Tom swept a critical eye over to the wreckage. Yes, they could rebuild it in several weeks, once the necessary supplies were gathered. He resolved to speak with Alex about it. If she could gather the needed materials, he’d reduce the price for her attic expansion as compensation.

He returned home with the intention to cook breakfast for the Nooklings and their guest. But as he removed his shoes in the entryway, he overheard Redd’s drawling voice. And the twins were conspicuously absent from the living room. He padded quietly over to the threshold of his bedroom.

The first thing Tom noticed was that Redd was now wearing one of his spare shirts. The floral patterned green and white flattered the fox’s fur. It was a size or two too large on him, and not his usual type of outfit. Something warm and possessive tightened in his stomach at the sight of Redd wearing his clothes.

Redd was back in bed, propped upright with the support of pillows. Timmy and Tommy were sitting on the bed as well, listening raptly to their guest. Redd was in his element as entertainer, gesturing enthusiastically with his unbroken arm as he spoke.

“...it was our third pitch of the day. Tom had persuaded me to paint wallpapers for high-end clientele, so the meeting was at this real swanky place. Very stylized lobby we waited in, minimalistic in style but in an expensive way, you know? Your Uncle Nook was sweating so much his fur looked a shade darker than normal. We were sitting there, waiting for half an hour after our appointed meeting time. And finally, finally, someone shows up. It wasn’t even the investor! It was some scrub, some assistant of an assistant. Tom was so nervous, he promptly bent over and spewed his lunch all over her expensive shoes.” Redd laughed.

Tom flushed. It hadn’t been his finest moment.

“But then, do you know what your uncle did?” Redd whispered, conspiratorially.

“What, Mr. Redd?”

“...Redd?”

The boys leaned in closer, eager not to miss a single syllable.

“Tom still managed to salvage the situation. He went right from wiping off her shoes to pitching her a new concept—scented wallpaper. Smells like lemon, pine. So if something like this happened again, at least no one would smell it!”

“Wow! Did they invest?”

“...vest?”

“Even better—they bought the concept and patent from us. All the reward, with none of the work!”

“Boys, wash up for breakfast.” Tom broke in.

The twins broke into beaming smiles at the sight of him. They sprang off the bed to crowd Tom, both talking a mile a minute.

“Uncle Nook, is it true that you won a manufacturing contract by arm wrestling the CEO of Cozy Couches?”

“—did you really start a new city fashion trend wearing your scarf as a belt?”

“—have three drinks named after you?”

“Redd likes to embellish.” Tom explained, exasperated. “Don’t believe a word he says.”

Redd pouted.

Once the boys reluctantly filed out of the room, Tom shut the door. He crossed over to Redd and offered him the book of fairytales.

“For me? You shouldn’t have.” Redd inspected the book. He grimaced at the faint mug stain on one of the pages. “Not a first edition. Far from excellent condition. You really shouldn’t have.”

Tom grit his teeth. “It’s not from me. A villager has loaned it to you. If it goes back to her with so much as a dog-eared page…”

“Alright, sheesh. Just messing around.” Redd set the book on the bedside table, evidently uninterested.

“Listen to me, Redd.” Redd looked up in surprise at Tom’s low, serious tone. “You cheated me. You deceived Lyle. But if you think—”

“Hey, Lyle wasn’t—”

“If you think,” Tom spoke over him. “For one second, that I’ll allow you to manipulate Timmy and Tommy, you’ve got another thing coming. I have resources now. More bells in the bank than you’ll ever see. If you ever hurt them, I’ll make you regret it. Are we clear?”

The boys were guileless, innocent. He would not stand for Redd swindling them.

Redd deflated, his previous energy visibly dimmed. His ears flattened back on his head. He looked away from Tom, and nodded.

~*~

“Where are we going?”

“Like I told you the last twelve times you asked, it’s a surprise.”

“I’m going to trip on the sidewalk and break my nose.” Tom grumbled.

“You won’t.” Redd promised, with a rumbling laugh. “I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

It had been six months since their first meeting, in that sketchy motel. Ever since, they’d hardly left each others’ company. Tom’s ambition was to build a furniture and home goods store. It would be unique in its approach, in that stock would be limited, and rotate daily, so animals would feel compelled to go to the store every day, just in case there was something they needed. Redd, an entrepreneur himself, was on board. But before they could begin such an enterprise, they needed bells, and loads of them. They’d taken the past half a year to build up their finances together. They’d done so not through conventional jobs, but through countless pitch meetings, patent sales, and even art commissions. They’d amassed enough now that their dream was looking more achievable by the day.

Tonight Redd had tied a black bandana around Tom’s eyes and led him from their apartment. Tom’s heart was doing somersaults in his chest throughout their entire walk. Redd had been furtive, secretive the entire past week. He’d been planning something, and Tom had a big hunch on what it could be.

“We’re here.” Redd announced, at long last. He unknotted the bandana. The cloth fell away from Tom’s eyes, and he gasped.

It was an older two-story building, wedged in between a pair of larger, newer ones. It was built of ruddy red brick, with floor to ceiling windows for display purposes. Tom glanced around. They were in a nicer part of town. Not the wealthiest neighborhood by any means, but one fairly busy, that had animals with bells burning holes in their pockets.

“It’s ours.” Redd withdrew a keyring from his pocket. “If you like it.”

“You—how?”

Redd winked. “I have my ways.” He held out the keys and gave them a shake. “Why don’t you do the honors?”

Tom took the keys with reverence. He felt as if he were drifting through the clouds as he glided to the door. The front door key was newly cut, firm in his palm. Tom unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

“The register could go here.” Tom circled around the corner of the back wall, nearest the door. He paced around the cavernous empty room, imagining as he went. “Heavier furniture in the back as well. Some eye-catching, lighter things near the front that can be rotated daily. Things like wreaths, tapestries—oh, and what if we hang strings of lights from the ceiling? It’d create a real welcoming, homey look.”

He turned back to Redd for his input. His face was flushed with enthusiasm.

Redd had been watching him from the doorway with a complicated, unreadable expression.

Tom’s grin faltered. “Redd?”

The strange look fell away from Redd’s face, replaced by his customary smirk. He sauntered closer.

“Your instincts are excellent as always, Tom. I was thinking of a mural, too, for the back wall.”

“Oh, that’d be great! What are you thinking? A city skyline? Or something more nature-inspired?”

Redd’s arm slid around Tom’s waist with easy familiarity. His paw squeezed Tom’s side. Tom barely muffled his squeak. They’d been together for five months of the six, and Redd’s casual displays of affection still flustered him. Back home, no one had ever looked twice at the plain, chubby raccoon.

Redd’s muzzle brushed his ear. “We can hash out the details later. This calls for a celebration, don’t you think?”

~*~

The doorbell jingled overhead as Tom stepped inside the Able Sisters’ store. Sable took a single look at Tom before she was bustling him into the back room of the shop.

“Keep an eye out for customers, Mabes.” She called over her shoulder.

Mabel mock-saluted her eldest sister.

“Sit.” Sable all but pushed him into a rocking chair. He remembered this old thing from the sisters’ first home. The quilt draped over the back of the chair was familiar too, if a bit more threadbare than he remembered. Tom was struck by a wave of gratefulness that all of his dearest friends had been so amenable to picking up their lives and moving to Bastion with him.

Sable placed a gray kettle on the stove, and retrieved two mugs from a cabinet. The mugs were lumpy things, rather sloppily painted. Mabel had made them by hand when she was young. Tom had his own original Mabel creation stored in a cabinet back at his home.

“I wanted to speak with you as soon as I heard, but I had too many shirts to sew, I couldn’t get away. I know that’s not much of an excuse, though.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m handling everything just fine.”

Sable raised one eyebrow.

“I am.” He insisted. Redd had been subdued after Tom had warned him off about the twins. He ate the food Tom cooked without complaint, allowed Tom to check his injured arm without any protest, save the quiet hisses of pain he couldn’t quiet. They’d lived together in uneasy harmony for a week, now. Redd spent most of the day in front of the TV, or idly flipping through the book Flurry had lent him.

“How have you been?”

“Fine. Redd hasn’t been putting up too much of a fuss.” She was staring at him, too keenly. “What?”

She took a moment to muster up the words, paws twisting in her lap. “Tom...I don’t want to see you like that again.”

Tom waved his hand, as if to banish the ghost of that awful moment. “You won’t. He can never hurt me again.”

Sable’s doubt was palpable.

“I don’t care about him anymore. I don’t. And I...I used to hate him, I admit it. I used to loathe him. But I’ve moved on. I don’t trust him, and I pity him, but I don’t feel anything strong for him, hate or love, anymore.”

“You don’t sound as convincing as you’d like to be.” Sable said.

He was saved from having to respond as the kettle whistled. Sable rose to fetch their tea. She added the sachets, a drizzle of honey to her cup, three lumps of sugar to Tom’s—after all this time, she hadn’t forgotten how he liked it—and carried the mugs over.

Tom held his mug between his paws, waiting for it to cool enough to be drinkable. The pleasant scent of Earl Grey wafted up to his nose. He inhaled.

“If Redd tries anything, I’ll punch him in the nose.”

Sable, gentle, demure Sable, spoke with such a steely assuredness that Tom started. She smiled shyly at him.

“I mean it.”

“You’ll have to get in line. I have first dibs.”

Sable giggled.

~*~

Tom headed back home, feeling lighter than he had since this entire thing started. He and Sable swiftly left the topic of Redd behind them, and spent the better part of an hour catching up.

The boys saw him through the front window of the Cranny, and waved enthusiastically. He returned the gesture, albeit with less energy.

Tom then climbed the stairs and let himself into his home. Redd was no longer where Tom had left him that morning, slouched on the couch. The TV was shut off, the house almost eerily silent.

“Redd?” Tom eased open the door to his bedroom. The fox was absent, but the bed was neatly made. He checked the twins’ room, the bathroom—both empty.

Redd was gone.

#reddnook #ac #animal crossing #tom nook #redd #animal crossing new horizons #my fic #sable is the best #timmy and tommy continue to be adorable

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curetapwater · 3 years

Text

Hey uhhhhhh I could’ve said something sooner but I’ve started a fic that’s basically a retelling of Sailor Moon but with Pretty Cure characters. Here’s the first bit if you’re interested.

CW: brief blood at the very beginning

Nagisa knew too much about dying for someone still alive.

There she lay, curled up in shuddering fetal, biting back whimpers and growls because she couldn't give the ones that did this to her the satisfaction of knowing she was in pain. But of course she was in pain, what else were you supposed to feel when red was flowing from your pierced abdomen? She coughed and tasted iron. Now blood was coming from two places.

The lightest touch, warm and gentle, brushed her fingers. She mustered what strength she had left and opened her eyes. A girl's face lay mere centimeters from hers on this ground that shook with what Nagisa knew was the world crumbling around them. Wishing she could stop them, she beheld the tears streaming from the deep blue eyes that held Nagisa's world, her universe, for reasons she couldn't quite recall. Neither girl had the ability to speak, but Nagisa knew that right then what she needed to do was take the girl's hand.

Her hand...

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"NAGISAAAA! YOU'RE GONNA BE LAAATE!"

Misumi Nagisa was yanked back into the waking world so hard she feared whiplash. She blinked and rubbed at the clouds in her eyes until she could make out the time on her alarm clock. Oh. Her brother was right.

She yanked on her uniform button-down, skirt, vest, bow tie, and blazer faster than you can say "tardy," ran her toothbrush through her teeth and her hairbrush through her hair, grabbed the crosse leaning against her desk, and sprinted out her bedroom door.

"I'm heading out!" she announced without so much as a "good morning" to her family.

"Don't you at least want some toast?" her mother asked, spreading butter on a fresh slice.

But Nagisa was already on her way out of the apartment. "No time for toast!" she shouted back. Then she was back inside. "Oh, who am I kidding, there's always time for toast!"

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Trying not to choke on toast while running turned out to be a lot harder than television had led Nagisa to believe. Swallowing down the last bite with a hard gulp, she lamented morning coming so early.

She doubted this disaster would have even happened had she not been up all night scared she'd have the dream again. The one where she dies.

Shudders made her almost drop her crosse. That and the fact that she was still running. How could something that wasn't even real do this to her? It was invading real life! She'd considered telling her parents but figured they would just tell her what she already knew: that she wasn't really dying and that the world wasn't ending and that the girl with her wasn't dying either because she wasn't real. If she was, then Nagisa would be able to remember something about how she looked. Other than her eyes. And the way her hand felt...

Nagisa shook her head. If she went on like that it'd give the girls at Verone Academy all the more reason to stuff her locker full of letters she didn't want-

5 kilograms of something Nagisa couldn't see knocked her head clear of thoughts and into the pavement. She growled, staggering back up. "What was tha-"

A group of boys, maybe eight or nine years old, pushed past her and nearly threw off the balance she'd just regained. They were chasing a cream-colored cat that scampered all about, jumping on and off every surface it could to avoid the little menaces. It would seem the cat had chosen her as one of his landing spots.

Seeing the poor thing so helpless, in such terror, stabbed through Nagisa's stomach with a justice-induced rage.

"HEY!" she hollered, brandishing her crosse like a weapon. The boys turned, shocked at the power of her voice. "Pick on someone your own size!" They blinked at her. Then she raised her crosse in a jerk just threatening enough to make them scramble off.

The cat revved up to dart away, but stopped short and turned to stare at her.

"You okay, little guy?" Nagisa asked, stooping down to scratch his head. There was a bandage on his forehead. "Here, let me get that for you."

And she did, peeling the adhesive back to reveal the strangest marking she had ever seen, some sort of weird heart-shaped thing. She thought it might be a bald spot, but it was blue. Blue? Did cats come in blue? She'd never owned one-

Ah crap, now she was double late! The cat was fine, but she wasn't gonna be if she didn't book it to the train station!

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If it weren't for the vice principle telling her off about tardiness and irresponsibility and selfishness maybe Nagisa could have made it for at least the end of the first class period. But nope, instead by the time she made it to her classroom, the second class was well underway and Ms. Yoshimi was handing out grades for a test Nagisa had forgotten about the moment she'd turned it in.

"Ah, Ms. Misumi," she said. "Since you've decided to join us today maybe you can explain this." She handed her a paper face-down. Never a good sign. Walking to her desk, Nagisa clutched the side that held her red-ink fate flat against her stomach so no one, including herself, could see what it said. She waited until eyes were off her and snuck a peek.

She got a thirty percent.

"No way!" she exclaimed before she could stop herself. All eyes were back on her. This day just kept getting better and better.

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"English is a weird language anyway," Rina consoled on the way to the train station.

Shiho nodded emphatically. "Yeah yeah yeah. If it's gonna, like, have that many rules then they shouldn't change all the time."

Well that was easy for them to say. At least they passed the test. Nagisa passed her crosse between her hands before resting it on her shoulder. Lacrosse had gotten her mind off of things for a bit. It helped that it was something she was actually good at. The muscles in her legs ached in protest of their continued use after practice, but they burned good because she knew she was getting stronger.

"Hey! I know what'll cheer you up, Nagisa!" Shiho said.

"What?"

"I hear that one jewelry store in the mall is having a huge huge huge sale!"

"I doubt there's anything in there we could afford, even if it's on sale," Rina reasoned.

"No, but, I hear they're cutting prices by, like, ninety percent!"

"Really? I need to see that for myself!"

Somehow Nagisa doubted even with those huge price cuts that she could afford anything. Not so much because the jewelry was expensive, but because she'd squandered her allowance on chocolate desserts and takoyaki (not at the same time). Not to mention she doubted she'd be getting another payment for the next ten years after her parents saw the newest low in her academic career. And she was pretty sure she was in the hole to begin with...

So, Nagisa hopped on the train to home and left Shiho and Rina to their detour.

She kept her eyes on her loafers. All she wanted to do in that moment was shuffle over to the nearest window so she could stare out of it with quiet sullenness instead of having to look anyone in the eye. But she managed to do just that when she forgot you're supposed to look forward when you shuffle and she ended up shuffling right into a boy's solid back.

"Ah!" She leapt back in surprise, and he did the same. Her surprise soon melted to deep, deep embarrassment when she looked up to find the cutest boy she'd ever laid her eyes on.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his gorgeous floppy hair flopping gorgeously.

"I- I- I'm so sorry!" Nagisa replied with a bow.

"It's no problem," he said. "It was an honest mistake. You're Misumi, right?"

The tight cocoons forming in her heart burst into butterflies. "You know my name?"

"I told him," said the girl Nagisa just noticed had been standing with this boy the whole time. Nagisa recognized her as Yukishiro Honoka from her class, a very pretty girl with delicate pale skin and a head of shiny, neat hair that housed the brain that got the highest score on the test Nagisa had failed. And she knew him. Oh no.

"I apologize if it seemed like I had been talking behind your back," Yukishiro said, which planted in Nagisa's head the idea that she had been talking behind her back. "I was just concerned because you looked so distraught, and I was telling Fuji-P-"

"Ahhh... I told you not to call me that in public!" the boy said, cheeks flushing.

Great. They had pet names, too.

"I hope you're not still upset about that test," Yukishiro told her.

The butterflies in Nagisa's heart were replaced by a wasp sting of horror. "HOW DID YOU KNOW I GOT A THIRTY PERCENT ON THE ENGLISH TEST?!"

Conversations stopped all around her. Passengers, including far too many in Verone uniforms, briefly gaped at the girl dumb enough to announce something like that to a packed train car. Then they turned back in a way that was supposed to be discreet but everyone knew really wasn't.

Yukishiro's polite smile cracked to reveal a foundation of shock and second-hand embarrassment. "I- I- um, wasn't aware of the exact score, but... I just heard you exclaim 'no way' when you saw it and assumed you weren't happy..." She cleared her throat a bit, a cute little sound that somehow made Nagisa feel like even more of a bumbling fool. She had to get out of there.

"Well, it was nice meeting you!" she forced through her teeth before pushing through the packed train car to find a spot as far from all human beings as possible.

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At home, Nagisa was greeted not by her family but by a note:

Nagisa

Ryouta and I are out buying groceries. Leftovers in the fridge. DO YOUR HOMEWORK.

Love, Mom.

Her father wouldn't be home for several hours. So she had the apartment to herself to... what should she do? Cry? Sulk? Scream into her pillow? That last one sounded good. And then maybe if she was feeling a little more devious than usual, she'd change that 30 to an 80 with a couple strokes of a...

No, that was too low. She just wouldn't bring it up until it was brought up to her. Now there's a plan.

She went to her bedroom, threw her bag and crosse on a chair then threw herself onto her mountain of plush toys. She really hadn't gotten a lot of sleep last night, and she decided not to remind herself why in case she scared herself into another all-nighter. That day, especially that exchange on the train, was way scarier than anything her brain could concoct, even if in her dreams she had tasted death...

Because she...

What was she thinking about, again..?

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Nagisa didn't even have time to dream before she was awakened by four little paws driving into her stomach.

Her assailant turned out to be the cat.

"Bald spot cat?" she exclaimed.

"It's not a bald spot-mepo!" the cat said.

Wait.

Nagisa screamed. The cat got the message and launched himself off and onto the floor, giving her the second painful jab to the stomach she'd experienced within a single minute. She scrambled off her bed and grabbed her crosse as if it would protect her from the creature.

"What?! WHAT?! A talking cat?! No way... There's just no way!" she whimpered, more to herself than to him.

"Just put down the stick and listen to me-mepo!"

Nagisa lifted the crosse above her head. "G-Get away! I won't hesitate!"

"Mepooo!" the cat screamed and ran to her balcony that she realized she'd forgotten to close the door to. That would explain how he got in. "Don't hurt me-mepo! What are you doing-mepo! This isn't how legendary warriors should-"

"What's with all the 'mepo mepo' stuff? Say 'mepo' one more time!"

The cat clamped his mouth shut, clearly fighting the urge. "MEPOOO!" he shouted, darting back into the room and between her legs. Oh, no no no, that was closer than Nagisa ever needed to be to a weird talking cat. Who knew if he was even a cat at all?

Nagisa screamed and bolted back to her bed. This had to be a dream. If she just closed her eyes she'd wake back up in the real world where cats didn't-

"Listen to me-mepo!"

She opened her eyes to find him standing at the foot of her bed. She sat up, hugging a stuffed panda close in a feeble attempt to make herself feel better. Saner. "What do you want? What... are you?"

"My name is Mepple-mepo."

"Mepple-mepo?" Nagisa repeated.

"No-mepo. Mepple-mepo."

Nagisa blinked, then nodded her understanding. Maybe he'd go away if she just complied.

"I'm here because I've finally found you, the Legendary Warrior-mepo!"

"Legendary Warrior?" Nagisa said. She'd hardly say a girl in a wrinkled school uniform armed with nothing but a crosse would be something anyone would call a warrior. "I think you've got the wrong-"

"I didn't think you looked anything like what I was looking for-mepo. Until you saved me-mepo! If you didn't take off that bandage I wouldn't be able to talk-mepo!"

"And then where would we be?" Nagisa said dryly.

"Listen-mepo! A strange presence is in the air and it's threatening the city-mepo! I've watched you all day and I'm sure you're the warrior destined to find the Legendary Prism Crystal and the Princess of Light-mepo!"

"The what and the who?" This was getting way too complex. As if a cat being able to talk didn't make things complex enough.

Mepple rolled his eyes, which Nagisa was pretty sure cats weren't supposed to be able to do. "The sacred treasure and the princess of the Garden of Light-mepo!"

"Oh, well, that clears it up," Nagisa said, chuckling in an attempt to depressurize. It didn't work.

Mepple groaned, hopped off the bed, and padded over to the balcony. He pointed up at the sky with a round little paw. "There-mepo!"

Nagisa looked up into the twilight and saw oranges fading to blues but no supposed Garden of Light. "What am I supposed to be looking at?"

"That-mepo! The big white circle with the rabbit on the side-mepo!"

"... You mean the moon?"

"We called it the Garden of Light-mepo," Mepple said, going back inside. Nagisa followed and closed the balcony door before the neighbors started thinking she was crazy. Maybe she was.

"So... you're an alien?"

"I guess, but that's not important-mepo!"

"I beg to differ-"

"Just take this-mepo!" And with that, Mepple suddenly did a high-reaching somersault, leaving behind a trail of sparkling dust that materialized into a white and pink brooch that fell into Nagisa's hands. It was heavy, and it was cute. But it also came out of nowhere!

Nagisa cast the thing onto her bed, freaked beyond belief. "What is happening?!"

Mepple picked up the brooch between his sharp little teeth. Whatever muffled words came out of his mouth, they couldn't have been all that pleasant. But then he dropped it himself, ears perked up. "I sense an evil presence-mepo!"

Nagisa backed away. "A what?"

"Turn on the TV-mepo!"

Nagisa ran into the family room and did as she was told. On the screen flickered live footage of the mall, with policemen trying to break in.

"It seems there is some sort of barrier inside preventing entry into the complex," the news anchor said. "The state of the patrons inside is currently unknown."

The bottom of Nagisa's stomach dropped out. "That's where Shiho and Rina went! Do you think they're still in there?"

"I don't know-mepo! But I know this looks like a job for you-mepo!"

"Me? What am I supposed to do?"

"Put on the brooch and shout, 'Black Prism Power, Make Up'-mepo!"

Nagisa assumed the "mepo" was meant to be left out. "What good'll that do?"

"Just do it-mepo!"

And so, feeling like the kind of fool that announces to a packed train car that she got a thirty percent on a test, Nagisa attached the brooch to her bow tie and shouted, "Black Prism Power, Make Up!"

Her hand shot up without her permission. An instant later, the world around her exploded in blinding rainbow-colored light. She wanted to scream, wriggle, call for help as she was lifted into a void of pure color, but instead her body moved in sweeping, elegant movements in a choreography that she'd never learned. A yelp wished to break through her enforced silence when all clothing except the brooch vanished. Great ribbons of light erupted from the brooch, wrapping around her body in the shape of a leotard, gloves, boots, and a miniskirt. A big bow tied itself just above her backside, earrings clipped themselves into her ears, a choker found its way around her neck. Then a strange, almost searing sensation prickled in the center of her forehead, until a hard metal circlet materialized in place. Finally, her feet touched ground, though still all she saw was nebulous color. Her body struck several battle-ready poses she had no say in striking. But she really started freaking out when her voice started making choices of its own.

"I am the emissary of light that fights for love and for justice! I am Sailor Black! And now, in the name of the Garden of Light..." Her arm snapped forward, pointing a warning finger to no one in particular. "...return to the darkness from which you came!"

She blinked -- Oh, joy, she could blink her own eyelids! -- and the world faded back to her living room.

"...Say what?"

Mepple looked upon her with eyes that saw some champion of justice, as opposed to the middle-schooler in a shrunken black and pink sailor fuku that Nagisa saw when she caught her reflection in a mirror. "Amazing-mepo..." he said. "The Legendary Warrior has awakened right in front of me-mepo!"

"Awakened?"

"Now Sailor Black can finally fulfill her destiny and help restore the Garden of Light to its former glory-mepo!"

"I'm going to what?" Nagisa wanted to press further, suddenly feeling less hugged and more caged by the costume's tight fabric. But the sirens blaring from the television set reminded her there were more pressing matters at hand. "How am I supposed to help Rina and Shiho and everyone like this?" she asked, holding the black skirt's hem between her fingers.

"You are Sailor Black-mepo! You have legendary powers-"

"If you call me 'legendary' one more time..." Nagisa started, simmering on the outside but reeling from how fast this was happening on the inside.

"Never mind that-mepo. Let's go-mepo!" And with that, Mepple ran back to Nagisa's bedroom.

"That's not the way out," Nagisa said, following him. She found him with his front paws on the glass door to her balcony. "Maybe you always land on your feet, but I don't-"

"Do you want to save your friends or not-mepo!"

"I do, I do!"

"Then trust me-mepo!"

Nagisa sighed. She guessed she couldn't exit through the apartment complex's lobby dressed like this. She didn't feel particularly powerful, but if a cat could talk to her and she could change her clothes just by saying a phrase, then maybe she could trust this little guy.

She placed a gloved hand on the handle and slid the door aside in a shuddering motion. "Okay... Okay..." she heaved as she stepped onto the balcony. She'd never before given much thought to how high up the apartment really was. How she'd taken for granted the fact that she knew what the tops of neighboring buildings looked like. She'd never considered having to stand on them!

Part of her wanted to back away, to declare this whole mess some stress-induced fever dream that would all go away once she came back to her senses. But then she thought of her friends' horrified faces, their screams for help, who knows who keeping them in that dark mall to do who knows what.

Next thing she knew, her foot launched herself off the railing and into the newly dark night. The jump sent her farther up than she'd ever thought possible. She bypassed several buildings until her feet touched the roof of some office building. The sole of her boot touched concrete for but a moment before she took to the air yet again.

She wanted to scream but at the same time a euphoria was building inside her. "My body!" she exclaimed to Mepple, who rode her shoulder. "It's so light! And my muscles are so strong!"

"That's the power of the Sailor Guardians-mepo!" he said.

"Guardians? You mean there are others?"

"We'll talk about it later-mepo."

#pretty cure #pretty cure fanfic #sailor moon #sailor moon fanfiction #fanfic #precure #futari wa pretty cure #futari wa precure #anime fanfic #my writing #nagisa misumi #cure black #sailor black

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