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juniorgman187 · 3 years

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Serendipity (Reid Fic) Part 1

A/N: If you’re wondering if this is at all based on Rosie and Marco’s storyline in “What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” then you should know - it totally is.

Summary: An FBI gathering brings Reader and Spencer together after years of distance. This one night changes not only their future, but their perspective on the past. Category: Angst, Smut, *NSFW content Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: Mentions of traumatic childhood, child neglect, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, menstruation, pregnancy Word Count: 10.2k

I originally thought I would be able to fit everything into 1 part, but after further reconsideration, this will be a two part series.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

Serendipity: (n). Finding something good without looking for it.

A word I would only come to truly understand many months from now on a warm Thursday morning in May at St. Mary’s Hospital.

But whenever my thoughts drifted back towards the past, I would always remember that this was how it all began - on a chilly Saturday night in the heart of D.C.

Not more than four hours ago, Emilia and I drove down here for an F.B.I function that hired us. Under normal circumstances, we wouldn’t have agreed to be the caterers for an event so far away, but we eventually signed on after learning that there were at least 600 people attending. That meant a considerable amount of customers and an exorbitant amount of money. Saying yes was clearly a no brainer.

Just to put it into perspective of how big this event would be, Emilia and I got lucky if we could park somewhere with 80 customers. 80. So this event would be colossal for us.

But who would have guessed that in a crowd of 600, I would run into the one and only - Spencer Reid.

To preface, this wasn’t just any old birthday party, parade, or festival. It was a celebration and a grand one at that. Considering it was a private event at the Washington Monument, we were given special instructions to abide by the black-tie formal dress code that guests had to follow, too. I guess the caterers can’t look like slobs in the United States’ Capitol, now can they?

I definitely spent more time than I should have deciding on what outfit to wear, but my conscientiousness, or rather indecisiveness, did pay off in the end. For I would run into someone worth the trouble of impressing.

My hair, unlike Emilia’s, was down and curled in big waves, and on one side, some of my hair was tucked behind my ear and designed to stay that way thanks to copious amounts of hairspray and an ungodly total of bobby pins. Emilia lent me a black, floor-length dress that had a plunging v-neck that didn’t fit her anymore, but luckily, fit perfectly on me. Although I would have to remember not to lean over too far tonight, otherwise, the customers might get a show they didn’t pay for. I, however, didn’t look half so good as my business partner.

Emilia was clad in a navy blue silk dress with puffy sleeves and a high collar; the dress clung to her every curve, including her newly protruding belly bump. She looked regal and pregnant all at the same time, qualities I hadn’t seen coexist in anyone but the Queens and Duchesses in England.

“Well, don’t you look hot?” Emilia purred, running her fingers through my curls, then letting them fall and sway back into place.

“Are you kidding? You are quite literally a sexy mama.” I gushed to her, receiving a light chuckle in return.

“Yeah, well, when you’re five months pregnant, tell me how sexy you feel in a tight dress.” She remarked, turning her back to me while she arranged all the supplies in the kitchenette behind me. But even as she faced away from me, she still managed to recognize the effect her words had. Maybe it was something in my silence, or our sister-telepathy, but Emilia immediately felt the room depress. In an effort to take back the remark that turned the room cold, she sweetly added while hugging me from behind, “You’re gonna be a mom one day, too. I promise.”

I leaned into her embrace, feeling guilty for ruining the moment while also feeling burdened by the reminder of the terrible reality I had to face every day.

Ever since I could remember, I thought I was destined to be a mother, but that destiny had yet to be fulfilled.

Emilia was born only three years after me, and though that age gap isn’t big enough for me to be mistaken for her mother, I, she, and our younger brother Saul would all agree that in many ways I was their mom. I was the parent our parents never were. I was there for everything - soccer games, dance recitals, winter musicals - never getting the chance to participate in my own, but always attending their’s.

I had to admit sometimes it was a burden, having to grow up so fast and help raise my siblings while still trying to navigate through my own struggles of adolescence, but I saw it as something I was meant to do.

See, I wouldn’t have minded all the responsibilities of being a parent so much when it’d be my own kids that I’d be fulfilling them for - when it would be by my choice to fulfill those responsibilities and not by unfortunate birth order.

However, as the years have gone by, my calling to be a mother has gotten quieter and quieter and quieter until eventually, I don’t think I’ll be able to hear it anymore.

It’s not that I can’t have kids, but the fear of rushing into having one is what’s stopped me from pursuing that dream.

As someone who grew up with divorced parents and practically became my siblings only reliable caregiver, I knew what having a baby too soon could do to a family. So rather than repeating history, I chose to wait to have kids. I didn’t want to make the same mistakes my parents did, and so I lived my life. I traveled all across the globe, I met new people, tried new things, I even started this taco truck business with Emilia.

But still that gaping hole in my chest remained. A hole that nothing could ever fill the way that a child would.

No amount of living could make up for the emptiness of a life with no family.

I could pretend all I wanted that I was happy living out my twenties, but the truth was I didn’t want to spend the rest of my years working in a food truck, amounting to nothing more than a mediocre cook and middling entrepreneur. That was never my dream - as exciting as it was.

My real dream was to have a good life. The kind my parents never had thanks to the unplanned arrival of me. The kind my baby sister was already living out.

“You know what? It’s a really nice night out. I think I might go for a walk. Do you wanna come?” Was this my blatant avoidance of breaching the subject of pregnancy? Yes, but it was also my escape from this food truck that felt like it was getting smaller and smaller and smaller by the second.

“No, I’m okay. I’ll just get everything ready.” Emilia resigned.

She knew why I was really leaving - sister-telepathy, I’m telling you - but she didn’t feel the need to acknowledge it. For that, I was thankful. Maybe we were better at communicating with no words at all.

I carefully stepped off the back of the truck, making sure to hike up my dress high enough so I wouldn’t trip over the mess of fabric when my feet hit the floor. The nippy December air felt like a cool balm on my hot skin. I was burning up in that truck, and maybe it was nerves or something else, but I just had this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. There was no explanation for it, but I realize now that the pit in my stomach was caused by something my intuition could sense but something my mind couldn’t understand.

Someone important from my past was here tonight.

As I sauntered around the monument, I took in the breathtaking view of the structure’s silhouette against the blazing orange sky that melted into an ocean blue. I regretted not bringing my phone to take a picture of it so I could show Emilia when I got back, but that one regret quickly turned into another when the night sky’s breeze brought a rude awakening. My body shivered at the frigid gust of wind that blew through and I suddenly started to regret not bringing a jacket.

“Are you cold?” A gentle voice asked me from behind.

I slightly recoiled out of shock of someone being there. When I turned around though, I couldn’t quite make out any distinguishable features. All I knew for sure was that this was certainly a man, and a tall one, too.

“Um, just a little.” I bashfully admitted, crossing my arms to hug myself and maintain some warmth. I hadn’t even thought about my dress’s plunging v-neck or the fact that I was practically squeezing my breasts together, accentuating them even further, but by the time, I realized, it was too late. He was already looking. But not at my chest. Somewhere far more invasive.

My eyes.

“Here, take my jacket.”

My small protests did nothing to stop him as he inevitably slipped the coat around my shoulders anyway. He’d come so close that I could finally see him and smell him. And let me tell you, if the sight of him wasn’t enough to break an overflowing dam of memories, then his smell certainly sent a flood that would.

“Oh my god,” I quietly gasped, my hand flying to my mouth to cover its un-ladylike gaping.

“Spencer Reid?”

I squinted my eyes and cocked my head even further to find evidence to support my assumption, and sure enough, I found exactly what I was looking for.

I was frozen in place as I deeply examined his face. My God! I mean, in many ways, he hadn’t changed a bit since the last time I saw him. Same dazzling hazel eyes. Same uniquely adorable nose. Same over-stimulated pink lips. I wonder if he still bit them as much as he did back then?

But at the same time, he was so different. Of course, I could still discern the same features I used to study endlessly back then, but his face had transformed into a man’s. He lost the glasses for one thing, but he also had a softer jawline, longer hair, and for lack of a better term, a beefier build.

He was all grown up now, and yet, I could still identify the same boyishly handsome charm that made me fall in love with him more than a decade ago.

“I knew it was you, (y/n).” He chuckled, sounding half proud of himself. My heart fluttered at the sound of my name on his tongue and the action that followed. With his eyes locked on mine, he tucked strands of my hair back behind my ears; it’s as if he were saying, “Let me get a good look at you.”

“How? It’s almost completely dark outside. You could barely even see me.” Certainly, you can understand why I was skeptical. Sounded too good to be true, if you ask me.

He shook his head lightly with a smile, seemingly questioning how I couldn’t possibly know the answer to that question. “No one else looks like you. Not even in the dark.”

His words spoke to a part of my soul specifically reserved for him. They were so genuine that I almost didn’t want to believe them because how could someone speak such lovely things and truly mean them? The world wasn’t that good a place. Certainly not good enough for Spencer Reid.

In that moment, I flew out of my own body and watched this entire scene unfold from up above. I could see the version of a girl I hadn’t seen in years, not since that last interaction with Spencer. She had these big lovesick eyes as she swooned over a man with just the same lovesick look.

The excessive upward tilt of my head and the way his neck craning down must’ve made it seem like we were about to kiss, but I knew better than to expect such a thing from Spencer Reid. And if anything, what we were doing right now was much more intimate than kissing.

“Wow, you ... you really grew up. You look great.” My own voice sounded unfamiliar to me after the words slipped from my mouth without even registering in my brain first.

“Are you kidding? Look at you! I mean, you are just ...” He paused for a moment to look me up and down, and I nearly shivered at the thought that he was practically undressing me with his eyes. “You’re absolutely beautiful. But you always were.”

I was almost completely in a daze when I heard a hideous squawk of a bird flying overhead. This wouldn’t make sense, but it nearly felt like a sign. Like the bird knew I wasn’t supposed to be there, reminding me of where I belonged - reality - not in this fantasy with Spencer.

“Um,” My head spun as I drew back from him. “I should probably get back. I’ll see you later.” I touched his upper arm gently as I passed by him, and it stunned me how warmth just radiated off of his body.

To my all too quick goodbye, he simply waved and watched me walk past him with a pursed-lip smile. And just before I got too far, I thought I heard him say, “I hope so.”

Though my feet were carrying me away from Spencer, my thoughts were only drifting closer to the memory of him, and we did have so many memories.

11 Years Ago ...

I was at the ripe age of 16 when I got my driver’s license. And to anyone else, this would seem like a given milestone, but to me - it was so much more. With the obtainment of my license, I also gained access to a whole new world. Opportunities poured at the seams. I could drive anyone and anywhere I wanted to and though it wasn’t true, it felt like I could do anything, too. But like all things good in my life, it fell apart in the face of responsibilities.

My newly obtained license was just another way for my parents to exploit me. Now, they didn’t have to drive Emilia and Saul since I could. Looking back, I have to wonder if the only reason they funded my driver’s ed classes were for the exact reason that if I took them, I’d sooner be able to take on yet another helping of duties they were too lazy to fulfill.

There’s one particular moment I can remember from this age and that same moment could also be regarded as the catalyst that would set off a series of events for the next 11 years to come.

It was the end of the school year and summer vacation was right around the corner. I was a sophomore at the time, and the prospect of being a junior the next year excited me.

To kick off the start of summer, Melody Hanes was throwing a pool party at her house. Everyone knew she was filthy rich because of a dead grandpa or some other, not to mention, she was also in student government so she had just as big of a role in school as her grandpa’s death did in making the Hanes family wealthy.

Though I never knew her personally, I did have third period chemistry with her for the entire year, and I sat right in front of her for pretty much the entirety of second semester. She must’ve only addressed me a handful of times, but she still invited me to her party anyway. Proximity, I had to admit, did play a part in that though because if I sat just a seat farther away, then I wouldn’t have been.

I came home that day, thrilled to tell my mother about my invitation. It would’ve been my first party that wasn’t a distant relative’s birthday celebration or a childish sleepover in elementary. It was my first real high school party, and for once, I thought - maybe I’d finally get the quintessential ‘high school experience.’

But of course, I never did.

As soon as I got home, I parked my car in the driveway, got the mail, and came inside the house to see my mother sitting on the couch watching TV, as per usual. While I was telling her about my invitation, she didn’t bother to lower the volume or even look away from the screen to give me her undivided attention, and when she did look away, it was only to take the mail from my hands.

“Your sister’s science fair is on that day, and you have to take her because I’ll be working from 1 to 7.” My mother never once looked up from the mail she was sorting through to address me. And her words, while incredibly monotone, were also spoken with such finality, like what she said was the last she ever wanted to speak on the topic. No room for discussion.

I’m not still losing sleep over it, but at the time, it felt like for once, I could actually just be a teenager and be young and reckless like everyone else, but that it was just taken from me. I never got the chance to be a kid again.

With the exception of Emilia’s science fair.

I knew my father wouldn’t be there, and obviously my mother wouldn’t, so I stayed to watch her presentation and to walk around the rest of the time. She deserved someone in her corner, and that someone was me. Even if no one was in mine.

As I serpentined through the cafeteria, a bittersweet feeling came upon me. From paper mâché volcanoes to potato batteries, I observed a childlike sense of wonder that I hadn’t felt for years.

Here, I was surrounded by children who got to be just children. They got to occupy themselves with trivial matters, like how gardens grow or if video games actually do rot your brain.

Their problems had solutions and their questions had answers, and it almost made me wish that I could revert back to a time where life was that easy, but I couldn’t because it never was … not for me.

So to sum it up, it was precious and heartbreaking all at the same time.

While browsing the fair, I stumbled upon a man that didn’t quite seem to fit in, and maybe it was my own unfitting appearance that made me recognize his. He could’ve very well been the brother of one of these children, but something about the way he was dressed and the way he carried himself made me highly doubt that.

He couldn’t have been a parent either, for he was not too far off from my own age, and if he was a parent of one of these eighth graders, that would have to mean that he had a kid when he was in kindergarten. So for all intents and purposes, he wasn’t someone’s brother or someone’s father. Who he actually was - I didn’t know, but I was determined to find out.

After that first observance, I spotted him a couple more times, but it wasn’t until we were looking at the same project that we actually spoke.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?”

The sudden sound of his voice alarmed me, but only because it seemingly came out of nowhere. Generally, before someone speaks to you, you notice signals that they’re about to, which helps you prepare for conversation. Whether it’s nervous twitches, a look in your direction, maybe even a small acknowledging smile, you’ll recognize they want to or plan to talk to you, but none of those signs were given to me. Even when I turned my head to give him my attention, he was still fixated on the project in front of us.

“Yeah, it really is,” I politely agreed. I awkwardly looked around the room as if I’d find an answer as to what to say next because I did want to keep talking to him, but the longer I stayed silent, the more I fear he’d begin to think I didn’t want to. With nothing else to ask but the question that had been bothering me since I first laid eyes on him, I simply went for it.

“So, who are you here for?”

For the first time, he turned his head to the side to look right at me. With a quizzical expression, he responded. “Oh, no one. I’m just a judge here.”

It was my turn to possess a quizzical expression. His statement wouldn’t have been weird, except for the part where any judge I’d seen or talked to were all well into their forties or fifties.

“Aren’t you kinda young to be a judge? You’re, like, what? Seventeen, eighteen?

“Nineteen actually. But I regularly come to judge the Summer Science Fairs here since I went to this middle school eleven years ago.”

Again, I would’ve taken his word for it, but the math didn’t make sense. “You were in middle school at eight years old?”

“Mhm. I ended up graduating high school at twelve.” He said it so nonchalantly, but for how big of a feat it was, I thought it would’ve deserved a more prideful tone, yet he still maintained such a cavalier one. Did he not think himself to be impressive?

“Jeez, you must be really smart.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, which made me notice that he wasn’t carrying a clipboard like the other judges, which was probably another reason why I didn’t take him for one. How would he be able to remember the projects that he was considering for awards? He’d have to have some magical memory for that.

Before answering, he began to walk away, but nonetheless he continued addressing me, so I followed him where he went.

“Mmm not necessarily. My IQ isn’t high enough to suggest I’m a provable genius yet, but I do have an eidetic memory and I can currently read 16,000 words per minute, which definitely helps. I hope to be able to read 20,000 words per minute in the future.”

Despite answering my question, he only left me with many more.

“What is your IQ right now?”

“131.”

My eyes widened. Even I, with my limited knowledge on intelligence quotients knew that was high, especially for someone as young as he was.

“So what IQ score do you have to have in order to be considered a genius?”

I couldn’t help but notice how he barely took anytime to think before answering me. It’s like his brain just knew everything, right then and there.

“A score of over 140 is considered a genius or near genius.”

“Wow, so you’re almost a genius then?”

“Almost, but not quite. If I receive diverse stimulation at a consistent rate for the next few years, I predict that I’ll have an IQ of 180 or higher by the time I’m in my early twenties.”

You would think he would leave me speechless, but I still went on to ask him about what an eidetic memory was, and he explained to me that he could remember things exceedingly well, but that it was not the same thing as a photographic memory. He made that distinction very clear to me.

Our conversation droned on for the rest of the fair as we continued to circle the cafeteria. I can’t count how many times we lapped around the same projects, but we never seemed to run out of things to talk about. Once those first few seconds after meeting him, when I didn’t know what to say, passed, I never again felt a sense of not knowing. We could talk for hours and hours, and it wouldn’t matter. I would never get bored.

How could I? When I was with him, it felt like the rest of the world just faded away. Our discourse flowed so easily, no pressure, no awkward silence. It was just me and him, and if you ask me, that’s quite the opposite of boring.

That was the first and final time I ever truly felt like a kid. Just like the ones in the science fair. Not a care in the world except for my morbid curiosity of the marvel that was him.

Alas, all good things must come to an end, and I inevitably found myself being ripped out of my trance when I felt an aggressive tug on my sweater.

“We can go now.” Emilia interrupted.

I hadn’t even noticed that a majority of the poster boards were taken down and that an even larger majority of the people were long gone, too. I got so lost in the conversation that I didn’t realize we were one of the last people still there.

Emilia’s eagerness to leave was apparent as she pulled me away from my interesting conversationalist.

“I had a nice time talking to you!” I called out to him, walking backwards to lengthen the period of time I could keep looking at him.

“Likewise.”

I turned around fully just before I finally realized something. “Hey!” I yelled across the distance. “I never got your name!”

He bashfully smiled and looked down at his feet briefly. “It’s Spencer! Spencer Reid!”

I stood there for a moment, silently processing his name.

“What’s yours?” He yelled back.

I chuckled mischievously. “I guess you’ll have to find out next time.” My ambiguity puzzled him and intrigued him all at the same time.

“Next time?”

With the intentions of leaving him without a true answer, I simply turned on my heels and started walking away.

“Bye, Spencer!”

Even if he didn’t have an eidetic memory, I knew after that first day, he could never forget me.

- Present Time -

By the time I made it back to the truck, people were already lining up to order.

“Get over here!” Emilia squealed excitedly from the window, her hand rapidly waving me over as if it’d suddenly increase my speed. I ran back as fast as I could in a dress and heels and climbed into the truck, mirroring my sister’s zeal.

When I stepped in, Emilia took one glance at me and furrowed her brows. “Where’d you get the jacket?”

Had she not mentioned it, I would not have remembered the foreign fabric that wrapped around my shoulders.

“Oh, shoot!” I palmed my forehead after the realization dawned on me. I should’ve noticed sooner that I still had it on, but honestly, it didn’t feel unusual or out of place. It was comfortable and familiar, like it was meant to be there that entire time.

“I’m so sorry to do this to you, but do you think you can handle this alone for just a second? I have to return this to a friend.” I asked while slipping off the coat to ready myself to leave, even in the event that Emilia said she wouldn’t let me go. Luckily though, she understood it was urgent.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. Just hurry back.”

I extended my head to look out just past the side of the truck to look for Spencer while still being concealed within the vehicle. Now that there were more people here, I wasn’t exactly sure I should be caught mingling with the attendees, so instead, I decided to search for him from the truck, rather than wandering around the party, giving the impression to the people that hired us that I wasn’t doing my job and was just here to socialize.

Luckily, there was something about my attachment to Spencer that was supernatural. I had this metaphysical ability to spot him even in a crowded place. I could find him anywhere. But whether that was a blessing or a curse was to be determined because right as my paranormal power kicked in, I found him. And there he was - standing next to another girl, a proximity much too close and a smile much too big to be anything less than flirtatious.

I paused to recall the image I had of myself earlier, when I floated up and out of my own body. I looked just like her - an oversized grin combined with lovesick eyes.

But that’s not the worst part.

The worst part was he was returning just the same look of attraction to her.

“Um, actually,” I re-entered the truck completely, tossing the jacket aside haphazardly. “I’ll just return it later.”

“You sure? You can go. I’ve got things covered right now.” She said between multitasking at a rate that even I, a very-much-not-pregnant-woman, could manage.

All I could mutter back without giving away the sharp ache in my heart was, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

_ _ _

After hours and hours of non-stop working, the night, at last, was coming to a close. The large crowd had sized down considerably, until I could no longer hear the sound of a thousand voices meshing. All the decorations were already coming down by the time Emilia and I finished packing up the truck. Without the hectic energy to cause adrenaline to course through my veins, it should’ve been peaceful, yet my heart was not at peace.

I couldn’t shake the gut-wrenching feeling of seeing Spencer with that girl, but that wasn’t really why I was upset. It was more about the fact that I’d actually believed for a second that I had any chance with him. I should’ve known he wasn’t single, and the fact that I let myself swoon over him again angered me all the more. If I ever had a chance with Spencer, the time to act on it was long gone.

Now, I had to live with that.

“You sure you wanna stay here alone? I’ll come with you if you want me to.”

Emilia’s question was referring to my proposal to stay in D.C for the night while she drove home. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but I realized I couldn’t handle being in another suffocating car ride with Emilia. It had nothing to do with her - just that I needed alone time to process everything by myself. If I knew my sister as well as I thought I did, I knew she would’ve sensed something was wrong and tried to coax me into talking about it, which I was not in the mood to do. Plus, traveling for so long made me nauseous just thinking about it. Although, I didn’t have a plan, I knew that I just wanted to hail a cab and find a hotel somewhere here for the night.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me. Call me when you get home.” I tapped on the back of the truck twice to let her know she was good to drive away, and I felt the car lurch forward per my request. When the truck finally did move, out from behind it appeared the tall figure of none other than Spencer.

I was surprised, but only for a second, when that surprise turned into pain once more. Playing it cool so my afflictions wouldn’t be suspected, I nonchalantly stated, “Here’s your jacket, by the way. Sorry, I forgot to give it back to you earlier.”

I extended my arm far enough so that we’d still have a great distance between us when he went to grab it, but sure enough, my actions were all for naught when he not only refused to remove his hands from his pockets to take it but also walked two steps closer to me than he needed to be. I looked like an idiot just standing there with my arm so outstretched, only for him to not grab it and to let it simply press against his stomach as a complete avoidance of getting it back.

“You were supposed to keep it. That’s why I didn’t ask for it back.” He curtly replied, finishing his statements with a cheeky grin. However, I wasn’t in the mood to return it. I simply stood there and shook the jacket in my hand to emphasize its presence.

“Take it. Please.” My voice was full of contradictions. I tried to be assertive with my command, and yet my plead only softened the order and showed a defeat I wasn’t even aware of until I heard how sad it sounded. “I don’t want it, Spencer.”

He no doubt saw the shift in my demeanor but still wouldn’t pacify me by taking the jacket. “What’s wrong? What did I do?” His voice got quieter, as if speaking any louder would shatter me in this fragile state of being.

“Nothing, I’m just tired and I want to go home.” This wasn’t a complete lie. I was exhausted from working for hours and hours on my feet with no breaks in between, but it wasn’t exactly the full truth either. He could tell.

“Just tell me what’s wrong.” He persisted. “Please.”

The only way I could describe what I happened next was like the vision of a boiling pot. Gradually, I was heating up until I finally got so overheated that I just boiled over and exploded.

“What don’t you get, Spencer? I don’t want your jacket!” Fury consumed my tone. “And I don’t think your girlfriend would want that either.”

“Girlfriend? What girlfriend? What are you talking about? I don’t have a girlfriend!” His words were flying out of his mouth at 100 mph as he desperately trying to mend what couldn’t be fixed.

“Don’t play dumb. I saw you with that blonde girl. How close you two were standing, the way you were looking at each other.” Just having to recount the interaction made the horrid memory come back vividly into the forefront of my thoughts, and it broke my heart all over again. I shut my eyes painfully as though it would turn off the image of them together, but this only allowed for Spencer to wrap his warm hands around my upper arms and pull me closer to him without my knowing. I flinched unconsciously at the sudden feeling of his touch, to which he instantly let go.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His hands shook with remorse for letting them touch my body in a way that elicited that reaction. They hovered in the space between us, not knowing where to go that would suddenly make things okay. “But she’s no one, okay? She’s just a coworker.”

I wanted to believe him. I quite possibly did believe him, but there was still a sharp pain in my chest. Call it intuition.

“No, she’s not,” I shook my head. “She’s not ‘no one’... you love her.”

Spencer came closer but still didn’t let himself touch me again out of fear that I might draw back even further.

“Listen to me - whatever feelings I used to have for her are long gone. She’s married, (y/n). She has a kid. And none of that even matters because the way that I used to love her is nothing compared to the way that I-”

“Don’t.” I held my hand up in protest. “Don’t say you love me.”

His eyebrows knit together with dismay. “Why? Why not? It’s true. I love you. I always have.”

With one big sigh, I finally resigned to my emotions. “Then why didn’t you ever do something about it?”

Judging by the deflation of his shoulders and the far off look he got in his eyes, he knew exactly the moment I was talking about.

Two days after Emilia’s science fair, I drove to the library to pick up books I needed for my summer homework. I was already on my way out when I just happened to glance to my side, noticing a lone figure sitting at the bus stop. I didn’t think anything of it, but when I looked back, I partially recognized him. I shaded my eyes from the sun and squinted harder to confirm my suspicions.

“Spencer?” I wondered out loud.

The figure’s head turned around, narrowed their eyes, and waved. He stood up from his seat and made his way over to me with a precious little jog-walk. Although we had only met once before, we still embraced each other like lifelong friends.

“Do I finally get to know your name now?” He jokingly inquired after pulling away.

It completely slipped my mind that I’d denied him the knowledge of my name, but for my own satisfaction, I wouldn’t let him get off that easily.

“Do you have any guesses of it could be?”

He pouted childishly. “Are you kidding? In a population of 350 million people, there would be about 4.4 million names. But if every country on Earth had the same nominative diversity we in the US have, that would suggest about 750 million unique names exist.”

I must admit it was fun watching him melt into a flustered mess of facts, but I was growing just as impatient as him. “Come on, just guess. You might be right.”

He rolled his eyes but indulged me willingly anyway. “Okay ... um ... Catherine.”

“Nope.”

“Nicole.”

“Nope.”

“Gertrude.”

“Seriously?” I raised my eyebrows. He shrugged. “Nope.”

“Olive.”

“Pretty,” I smiled, making his face light up, too. “But no.” His smile fell.

“This is nearly impossible.” He sighed.

“Nothing’s impossible.” My delivery wasn’t as cheesy as the line itself, so it touched us both in a way that made that silly phrase feel like it’d never been said before. With a visible passion reignited in him, he continued.

“Francis.”

“Okay, maybe this is impossible.”

My blunt joke brought us closer together, our heads almost knocking into one another’s as we clutched our stomachs and leaned forward to support our all-consuming laughter. When we finally calmed down, I finally confessed.

“Okay, okay - it’s (y/n).”

He stood there completely silent. There was no expression of his face that indicated he planned on speaking, so I elaborated. “It’s not as good as the name Spencer, I know I know -”

“I’ve never known anyone with that name before.” His hushed voice cut into mine so innocently.

My cheeks heated from the slight compliment. “Well, now you do. And don’t you forget it.” I teased. With nothing further to say, I brushed past him to start walking away, when unconsciously, I spun my keys around my index finger and heard the familiar jingle of the metal, reminding me of something.

“Hey, Spencer?” I turned on my heels. “Can I give you a ride home?”

And so began our routine for the entire summer. I would bring my summer homework to the library, and Spencer would help me understand it, or even complete it, and then I’d give him a ride home. We’d go to the park and read, or we’d go to the movies, or we’d hang out at a diner. And each time, I’d drop him off.

The more time we spent together, the more I learned about him and his life. He told me about his mom, his dad - everything. I did just the same. I told him about my mom, my dad, my siblings - everything.

Perhaps we enjoyed spending so much time together because it was a sweet escape from our houses that weren’t homes. But every time we did hang out, we just got closer and closer, and by the end of the summer, I knew my feelings perfectly clear.

I love Spencer.

If missing that pool party at Melody Hanes was what it took to find the absolute love of my life, then what a small price to pay it was. I wouldn’t have traded a million pool parties for that one chance encounter with Spencer at the science fair.

One day, we were pulling into his driveway after having a picnic at the country club, and I’d just let him out of the car, when unconsciously, I said, “Bye, Spence! Love you!”

He caught the words faster than I did. He looked like a deer in headlights, and it took me at least two seconds more to figure out why. That entire day I’d been thinking about saying it, but by the end, I decided it’d be better not to, and yet, it just came out anyway.

“You love me?”

There were two ways I could’ve answered. The first was to deny it and say that I only meant that I loved him like a friend. The second was to be brave and validate my unintentional confession.

In the heat of the moment, I chose the latter.

“Yes.” I nodded, smiling from my own courage. You only live once right?

In a cruel twist of fate, Spencer never tried to speak, and instead, ran to his front door.

“Spencer!” I yelled. “What are you-”

He gave me one last look over his shoulder before he opened the door and closed it right behind him. That was the last I ever saw him.

I learned, that day, that you do only live once.

But you can die over and over again.

From that point on, he’s lived in my mind as the one that never was.

Regret and shame manifested on Spencer’s face. “I never wanted to hurt you.” He dejectedly began. “But I was young and-and dumb and just ... so scared. God, I was so scared.” He finally looked up, if for no other reason than to gauge my reaction. “I liked you so much, but I, I just couldn’t open myself up to the possibility of being hurt by another person I loved.”

Much like my own life, Spencer’s was riddled with traumatic experiences. Except rather than being expected to take care of younger siblings, he had to take care of his mom. And having to be a parent to your own parent? That’s something I would never wish upon anyone else.

“I ... I get it.” It was a sweet surrender, my words. After years of pent-up aggression borne from humiliation, rejection, and deep sadness, I could finally understand. “But as selfish as it sounds, I wish your past hurt hadn’t gotten in the way of our potential happiness.”

He took each of my hands in his, encasing them with palms of warmth. “Then don’t let the same thing happen right now. Don’t let the stupid, broken teenager I was cloud your judgement of the man I am now. Let me prove to you that I’ve changed.”

I stood there silently, an eerie parallel to how Spencer reacted to my confession eleven years ago.

“When I saw you, it felt like a second chance. A second chance to do what I was too afraid to do back then. And I couldn’t let myself make the same mistake twice.” His eyes were piercing through my soul. Every word plucked at my heartstrings, until I could no longer keep up with the symphony they were playing.

There was the slightest hesitation behind it, but I did inch forward. And in no time at all, Spencer saw the movement and made his own.

His hands released mine and shot straight for my cheeks to cup them gently, while kissing me firmly. He wasn’t the same shy boy he was, and this kiss was only proof of that. The way his lips were moving so fervently made me weak at the knees. He was so desperate and needy, like even with our lips touching, he still wasn’t close enough to me. Unleashed upon me was years of yearning wrapped in prominent lust.

“I love you.” He blurted clumsily on my lips. I didn’t return the sentiment, but that wasn’t why he said it. He wanted to say it so I’d know, not so that I’d say it back.

“You should know,” I muttered between kisses. “I’m not leaving D.C. until tomorrow morning.”

The biggest smirk creeped onto his face. Bastard.

Once we’d exhausted all the things we could possibly do in public, we ran to the nearest cab we could find and exhausted all the things we could do in that, too.

It was already past midnight when we arrived at Spencer’s apartment, and though we should’ve been quiet so as not to disturb the neighbors, we were still breaking out into a fit of giggles like a bunch of teenagers sneaking around as we ran up the stairs. We hadn’t even made it past the doormat, before he seized my hips in his hands and spun me back towards him. Forcefully, he pressed me against the door while simultaneously unlocking it. That shut me up real good, lemme tell you.

As soon as we crossed the threshold, he gave me a reprieve when he held me closer so as to stop pinning me against the door. In an effort to do the impossible, we stumbled through his apartment in a frenzy trying to undress each other while maintaining our bodily contact. With one giant tug of the zipper on my back, my dress fell to the ground. To his atonement, he left me in just a thong. Whereas he was much too overdressed in my opinion.

No sooner did I gracelessly unbutton his shirt than we ran into a plant against the wall. Our smiles practically ruined the kiss at the sound of the crash, but it remained nonetheless. I knew I was in for something, when Spencer paused to wait for me to unbuckle his belt. That was the first time we ever really stopped in place, but just as I anticipated, I was in for it.

When I finally freed his waist of the garment, he just as quickly placed his hand on the back of my thigh, and in one swift motion, hoisted me into the air high enough to allow my legs to wrap around his waist. My arms were loose around his neck and the feeling of his warm hands touching my bare skin sent a chill down my spine.

Due to Spencer’s essential hand placement on my body, I had to be the one to fumble with his bedroom’s doorknob until it finally gave way. Once more, we staggered through his room before he let our lips break apart to lightly toss me onto the bed. I giggled at the squeak of the bed, driving him visibly crazy.

He hastily unzipped his own dress pants, while I propped myself up on my elbows. When he met me on the bed, he hovered over me to the point of having to lay back down again just to see him clearly. He felt too far away so I drew him nearer by lacing my hand through his soft curls. I twirled one around my finger, which must’ve been too merciful for him to handle.

He placed his hand on the back of mine and slid it down to his cheek. He held my hand there for a moment, leaning into the skin of my palm prior to placing a chaste kiss on it.

He didn’t need to say it again for me to know what he was thinking.

I love you.

The anticipation was killing me and in the most impatient manner, I pulled him down to my level, mimicking his similar habit of face-grabbing during a kiss. I knew his hands would’ve flown to my face the way they did just minutes ago, but one was too preoccupied keeping himself up and the other was busy toying with the band of my thong. I shivered at the sensation of him slipping one finger under the material and letting it glide over my tender skin right above my heat.

“Spencer,” I mumbled in a kiss to bring his attention back to me. Although I was certainly interested to know the hidden talents of Spencer Reid and his fingers, I was restless. I’d been waiting years for this moment, and unlike most people, I didn’t want to wait another second. “I need you now.”

He pulled his head back so he could get a full view of my face to examine my sincerity. He wanted to know if I was sure, and my eyes told him such. He nodded in acknowledgement with such speed that I was sure he was craving this as much as I was.

Rather than looking at where our bodies were about to meet, I had to close my eyes so I could fully feel everything without any other sense taking that away from me. In a painfully slow manner, he lined himself up at my entrance. At first, he only lightly pushed in, and it was this slacken movement that made me cry out and grip his shoulders for stability.

He pushed further in until he was fully sheathed inside of me. There was a slight moment of regret for not letting him engage in foreplay before, but that quickly went away when the pain turned to pleasure. He gained more confidence in himself with each stroke, and I could feel it. The more powerfully he thrust, the more I felt myself tightening around him. The over simulation was a stark contrast from the stimulation I denied and so the sensation I was feeling was only heightened by the absence of it before. For that very reason, I knew I was already close. And maybe he knew it, too and just as sweet revenge, he decided to send me over the edge by pulling my leg over his shoulder to thrust into me a new angle. As I’m sure he predicted, I threw my head back as tears began to prick the corners of my eyes. He rode the ever exquisite border between pain and pleasure, and my tears were a manifestation of that. Not even a minute passed, before I tried to moan but pathetically failed, not even being able finish the pitiful wail without the both of us finishing together.

Our heavy panting synchronized and reverberated back to us while he slowed down his pace and pulled out.

Perhaps in the heat of the moment, we lost all logic and reason, considering that even up till now, neither of us had realized that he didn’t use a condom.

But what would eventually happen in the future as a result of this action, or inaction, would surely make us remember.

Spencer lowered himself down to kiss me breathlessly; strands of his hair clung to his forehead as sweat glimmered on both of us. Not until we were ready did we make our way to the bathroom so he could help clean me up. Once we returned, I gathered my clothes, but he made sure to grab my panties before I could even notice.

“Have you seen -“ I cut myself off when I saw what was dangling in his hands.

“Looking for this?” He teased.

All my energy had been spent on him that I couldn’t be bothered to fight for them back.

“Keep ‘em.” I smirked, my hand reaching down to pick up his jacket off the floor and hold it up. “Consider it a fair trade.”

No arguments from him.

Needless to say, I did end up finding a place to stay the night. Where and with whom you might ask?

Well, you can probably figure that one out for yourself.

_ _ _

I wish I could tell you I got a good night’s rest, and I could - it just wouldn’t be the truth.

Spencer and I spent the rest of the night just talking. We filled each other in on nearly ever second of the past 11 years, and once again, I found myself reverting back to the teenager I was at the science fair. The entire world revolved around us as we spoke to each other effortlessly, like no time had passed. Even in the periods of silence, I felt comfortable.

Spencer and I were lying on our sides facing one another when I felt compelled to profess that “I can’t talk this way with anyone. It’s just you.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear with a small smile on his lips. He didn’t need to say that he felt the same way because I already knew. His hand never left my face but instead made its descent down my jawline and stopped at my chin. He raised his thumb to reach my lower lip, letting the pad of his finger graze over the soft skin of my lip.

It felt like he was tracing every detail of my body, running his eyes over every inch at least twice so as to fully commit everything to his memory.

At last, the tension broke when he positioned his hand comfortably at the back of my neck, bowing his head forward to kiss me. This one was quite different than our first, for it was gentler and warmer. We weren’t forcing ourselves to make up for lost time. In fact, this kiss was saying, “We’ve got plenty of time.”

Plenty of time indeed. Which we were happy to spend making love again.

And I will be the first to admit that if our first round of unprotected sex didn’t solidify our future predicament, this time certainly did.

Six Weeks Later ...

“Hello?” Clearly frustrated, Emilia waved her hand in front of my face to harness me back to earth. I hadn’t realized I zoned out until she scoffed at me. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

“No, sorry. Could you repeat it one more time?”

She set down the papers in front of her and sighed unhappily. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been so distant lately.”

It hurt to hear, even though it was the truth. I wasn’t intentionally being despondent, but it’s hard to be present when there’s so much occupying your mind, and there was one thing in particular that was keeping me up late at night recently.

My period has always been irregular. For as long as I’ve had it, I’ve always missed a few weeks, then it would become consistent, then it would be sporadic again. In fact, there was one year where I only had four periods total. So it didn’t strike me as odd when I realized three days ago that my last period was about seven weeks ago.

What did strike me as odd was the other symptoms I was experiencing. Menstruation cycles are known to closely mimic the symptoms of pregnancy, but with the knowledge that my period wasn’t coming, it was disconcerting to me that I was suffering the discomforts without the actual period itself.

To me, there was only one clear explanation for this anomaly.

I was pregnant.

Earlier in the day, I bought a pregnancy test and was late to work because of it. If Emilia hadn’t been suspicious of my behavior before, showing up late only made her suspicion greater.

I didn’t know when I’d take it, probably at home after work, but the anticipation was eating away at me. I would pace around the truck until Emilia finally told me to stop because the vehicle wouldn’t stop swaying with my every movement. I was biting my nails and chewing on each little piece that grew back just to bite it back down to the nub. My hands couldn’t stop shaking, my breathing wouldn’t slow down. I was a hysterical mess.

I didn’t tell Spencer any of my concerns, of course, but being as perceptive as he is, he noticed my strange mannerisms despite my best efforts to hide them.

“Your breathing just got faster. Are you feeling okay?” He paused the movie we were watching to check in on me one time. It should be known that the scene that caused my heavier breathing was a scene of a woman finding out she was pregnant and being absolutely devastated. I quickly brushed it off as just being too warm, to which he turned on his air conditioning. Luckily for me, he didn’t make the connection.

And it’s not that I didn’t want to tell Spencer - I really did - but why should I make a fuss about something if there ended up being nothing to worry about? That would just be extra stress, and the last thing a new, blossoming relationship needs is additional strain.

So without Spencer, I had to opt for the next best thing - my sister.

I’d reached my wits end, and I couldn’t keep up the act any longer. I was walking on eggshells with practically everyone I knew, and I’d sooner go crazy if I didn’t tell someone what I was really feeling. So in response to her question, I finally told the truth.

“I think I might be pregnant.”

You can imagine the shock on my sister’s face. Emilia’s jaw became one with the floor as her eyes widened so big I thought they would pop out of her head.

“You’re pregnant?” Already her eyes were welling up with tears of joy.

“I don’t know yet.” I put my arms around her to keep her calm and stable while the emotions began overpowering her. I wanted it to serve as a reminder to not get her hopes up, otherwise she’d get mine up, too.

“Well, have you taken a test?”

I reached for my purse behind her and rummaged through it until I finally retrieved the box. Holding it up, I reluctantly suggested, “I thought maybe you could be there for me when I did?”

She squealed with joyful elation, practically shattering the window pane with the high pitch of her voice. On top of that, she was jumping up and down with elegant grace that I had to wonder how her pregnant body could even manage to do such a thing.

“Of course, I will! Come, come, let’s go.”

We hopped off the truck and to the nearest restroom, which admittedly wasn’t the nicest of places, nor was the place I ever imagined as a child that I’d be finding out I was pregnant in, but it had to do for now.

When I first came out of the stall, I set the test face down on the sink, so that we wouldn’t see it until it was ready. Emilia set a timer for 10 minutes, but in the meantime, all we could do was wait. Neither of us could stay still; Emilia bounced up and down, rubbing her belly while facilitating some sort of breathing exercise. Meanwhile, I kept tapping my foot impatiently.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Emilia’s alarm scared the shit out of me, and we both were startled by the blaring sound. It was so jarring, but even that wouldn’t compare to the fear I felt when I realized it was finally time.

“Do you wanna look or should I?” She asked.

“You look.” I said at first. But when she lunged forward to take it, I did, too. “No wait, I should.” Then another moment of hesitation. “No, you do it. I can’t.”

I held my hands over my mouth while I watched her carefully lift the test off the sink, maneuvering it in such a way that only she would see the results. I watched her expression closely for any sign of a reaction, but she was stoic as can be. I couldn’t tell if she was disappointed, happy - nothing. Complete and total poker face.

“Come on, Emilia! What does it say?” I blurted anxiously.

“Well, first, what do you want it to say?”

That was a question I hadn’t considered. I was so busy worrying about what I didn’t know, to pause and think about what I wanted to find out. On the one hand, I’d be ecstatic if the test confirmed that I was pregnant. I’d jump for joy because that was what I always wanted, right? But on the other hand, if it said I wasn’t pregnant, then I’d be sort of sad because I got so close to that lifelong dream. But after that, I’d probably just be relieved to have dodged a bullet.

“I don’t know,” I confessed. “I don’t know-”

“Don’t think. Just tell me. What do you want it to say?”

Without missing a beat, I replied, “Positive.” My sister and I alike were stunned by my answer. “Yeah,” I nodded slowly. “Positive. I want it to say positive.” I repeated, to cement my earnest desire.

Emilia’s facade melted away as she began to shake her head. “I’m sorry, (y/n). There’s only one line.”

We both knew what that meant, even if she didn’t explicitly say it. I sighed dejectedly, which was a surprise to even myself. I didn’t expect to be this disappointed, and yet I was. The knot it my stomach worked itself free, and where that pit used to be was just emptiness. My heart sunk and steadied itself, and my breathing resumed its normal pace.

“Well,” I bit my lip. “I guess that’s that.”

Emilia instantly drew nearer to pull me in for a hug, one I was not ready to accept but welcomed anyway. “I’m sorry, (y/n). But I mean, sometimes tests just come out with false negatives.” With her face still buried in the crook of my neck in our hug, she mumbled, “Not this one, though. This one’s positive.”

Immediately, I retreated from our hug and pulled her in front of my view. The sneaky girl had a huge grin that took up 99% of her face.

“You’re pregnant!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, shaking my body violently. We embraced each other in another hug while simultaneously jumping up and down. “I just wanted to trick you so you would know how you really feel. Now you know!”

And I did know. I did know that I wanted this baby and that I was glad it even existed.

Not long after our mini-celebration did I start to come down from the high of my euphoria. A certain realization dawned on me like a cloud of gray hanging above my head to rain on my parade.

What about Spencer?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

PART 2 HERE!

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magicforjournals · 3 years

Text

The Green Dress (A Story About Loki) Chapter 4 : A God’s Lips

RE-UPLOAD - Last upload was missing some parts, my bad!!

Warnings : Explicit (18+)

It’s early in the morning, way earlier than you usually wake up. You barely slept last night; nerves, anticipation, fear even, just twisting your insides and preventing you from getting any kind of rest. You know you’ll eventually have to get up and get ready for work but, you’re just lying in bed, still shell-shocked at the conversation you had with Loki last night.

After receiving his email, you had sat in the shower, letting the hot water hit your skin, for what seemed like hours. Had Loki just asked you on a date? That… That meant he wanted to see you again, he thought of you just as much as you thought of him. He craved your presence just as much as you craved his. You had revelled in the thought of being important to someone like him, a literal god. Finally, you had gathered all of your strength to get out of the shower, grab your phone and sit on your bed to reply to his email. You felt it impersonal to accept an invitation to a date over email and had decided to give him your phone number instead, offering him the option to call you. Within minutes, your phone rang. Heart pounding and hands shaking, you had answered his call. The sound of his soft, deep voice through the phone made you shiver and instantly soak. You wanted him, you needed him. Your conversation, although brief, had been wonderful. You both had agreed that you would be making dinner, and he was to meet you at your apartment at 6 o’clock. You could barely utter a word when he wished you goodnight and sweet dreams before hanging up. You had laid back on your bed, trying to catch your breath. You had just invited a god to have dinner in your home. It wasn’t just any god, it was Loki. Loki who had kissed you with such passion, it had left you weak in the knees for days. Loki who, by only speaking, could make you so incredibly wet. You had slid a hand down your body, imagining it was his hand instead of yours, grabbing your breast, rubbing tight circles on your clit. It didn’t take long for the orgasm to rip, burning hot, through your entire body, making you spasm in pleasure as his sultry voice still rang in your ears, and you had to bite down on your pillow to muffle the loud moan that escaped your lips as you came.

As you lie there thinking about last night, you tell yourself it’s only a couple of hours before you get to see him again. Jumping out of bed, newfound energy bursting through your veins, you get ready in a flash, speeding through breakfast and cleaning up. You call yourself a taxi and get to school way too early, eager to start your day. As promised, your car is waiting for you in the parking lot, however, you see Nat getting out of it as you start walking to the school entrance.

“You’re here early”, she says as she catches up to you, following you inside. There were usually no visitors allowed unless the principal approves it, but since the school is funded by Tony and that Natasha is an Avenger, they never had a problem with her coming in before or after classes. Regardless, she never came during school hours, knowing her presence would be a distraction for the kids.

“Yeah, I could really sleep last night,” you say with a smirk.

“Oh…” She says, intrigued. “Oh, I know that face! What happened?!” She then presses you.

“Well….”, you tease, walking into your classroom. “Loki emailed me last night to ask if we could have dinner tonight.” Nat’s mouth falls open as she hops on your desk, her usual spot to sit.

“Did you say yes?” She asks.

“Yeah, he’s coming over tonight. I’m making him dinner.”

“Holy fuck, you’re joking!” Natasha screams so loud, you have to shush her. “You’re having dinner with Loki Laufeyson TONIGHT.”

“I know, I know. Be careful, he’s the god of mischief,” you say, mimicking her.

“Oh, well yeah obviously! I’ll have my phone with me if there’s any problem, just use the emergency button.” She reminds me. “But I meant you’re having dinner with the man who pinned you against a wall four days ago and kissed you like you’ve never been kissed before. The same man you told me you could not stop thinking about.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, your face turning red.

“Are you excited?”

“I’m nervous! I haven’t been on a first date in almost a year Nat! What if he doesn’t like me anymore in the end? There’s something different about him and it terrifies me. If you think about it, I’m just a simple mortal.” You tell her.

“Please, you’ll be just fine. Loki seems very interested in you.” She reassures you. “And you know, I was thinking last night… Loki has been good for a while now… maybe being with you would really change him. I know I have some preconceived notions about him, but everyone is allowed a second chance. I was, so was Bucky and Bruce too…” She trails off. Talking about him was still a sore subject. Bruce had been missing since Sokovia and it had left a gaping hole in our hearts, especially Nats. Over the years, you had watched their relationship slowly flourish, they were quietly flirting and often seeing each other in secret. He was the first man she ever let get herself get close to, and he cared so deeply about her and was terrified of ever losing her. And when he never came back, and when no one could find the Quinjet, Natasha could barely leave her bed. Getting her back on her feet was one of the hardest things you had ever done.

“Hey,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around her, rubbing her back.

“He’ll come back when he’s ready, just give him time.”

“I know,” she says, hugging you back. “I just miss him.” We all did.

You stay like that, holding each other in silence for a while.

“I should go,” Nat says, hopping off your desk. “You call me tonight if there’s anything, right?” She adds, looking you in the eyes.

“Yeah, of course! How are you getting back?” You ask.

“Sam is picking me up, he’s on his way now,” she replies, checking her phone.

“Say hi for me! I’ll call you later ok?”

“Will do! Keep me posted. Love you, bye!” Nat yells as she walks out. You giggle to yourself, unpacking your stuff and getting ready for the day, Tuesdays are your favorites.

The day flew by so fast, it left you a little dizzy. Your students left a while ago and you were finally done cleaning up the mess of the day. You look down at your jeans and there are some mud stains all over them, the WWII reenactment of the day having left its mark. Nonetheless, your students enjoyed it, and you tell yourself to add the activity to the memory board you have in class. As you glance in its direction, you see that the clock above is showing 3:45, and you panic. You didn’t realize how long you had spent cleaning.

You pack up your things as fast as you can, almost running to your car. You need to get home quickly, Loki is coming over in two hours, and you have to make dinner and get ready. You desperately need a shower after running around outside in the mix of snow and mud all day.

Getting home in record time, you drop your bags by your desk. Running to your bathroom as you throw your hair in a bun, you take the fastest shower you’ve ever taken, scrubbing down as quick as you can. Thank heavens you had washed your hair the night prior. Once you get out, you check your makeup for any touch-ups and add a small line of liner and lip gloss. Shaking your hair out of its bun, you like the way it looks and decide to leave it as is. Still wrapped up in your towel, you make your way to the kitchen to start prepping the food that needs to begin cooking immediately. You get everything else out and organize your kitchen. Again, you thank your lucky star that you’re a neat person and you don’t need to clean your apartment before Loki gets here. With most of the dinner cooking, you head to your bedroom to get dressed. Opting for black lace underwear, you open your closet and sigh loudly. What are you going to wear? Why hadn’t you picked out an outfit this morning? You had all the time in the world to get ready? Grabbing your favorite pair of light jeans, skin-tight and which do wonders for your ass, you start browsing through your shirts to find something… anything. You suddenly hear something bubbling and grab an old band shirt you usually sleep in, slipping that on before running to the kitchen to make sure nothing is burnt to a crisp. You’re not the best cook in the world but you can manage to whip up a couple of great meals. Thankfully, nothing was burning, but there were a lot of dishes to take care of.

You were washing the last bowl when you heard the building’s buzzer ringing. Your head whipped around towards the digital clock on your microwave to see it showing 6 pm on the dot. SHIT! You didn’t see the time fly by, and Loki was already here AND you were not even dressed. Shit, shit, shit, shit… Ok, it’s ok. You walk over to the intercom and buzz him in. A little time goes by and you hear a shy knock against your door, making your heart almost jump out of its cavity with how fast and hard it’s beating. Hand on the door handle, you take a deep breath before opening the door.

There he was, standing in front of you, handsome, beautiful as ever. His dark hair combed back, as it was last time you saw him, his green eyes sparkling with joy, his devastatingly stunning smile. He was there. Right in front of you.

“Hi,” Loki says, his smile widening. “These are for you”, he adds, handing you a bouquet of white and pink lilies.

You gasp. “Oh thank you. How did you know lilies are one of my favorite flowers?”

“I guessed, a very fortunate guess as it turns out to be.” You think you might as well die, combust on-site, from how warm he makes you feel.

“They’re beautiful, thank you so much.” You repeat. “Please come in! I’m so sorry I’m not dressed yet, I just finished the dishes.” You apologize, cheeks burning red as he steps to stand in front of you in the entrance.

“I think you look perfect,” he whispers, stroking your cheek slowly. You sigh in content, eyes closing, as soon as you feel his skin against yours, unknowingly leaning into his hand. You both stand there, taking in each other’s presence, for what seems like hours.

“Let me take your coat,” you whisper softly, looking up at him.

“It’s ok darling, get those flowers in some water,” Loki whispers back, your knees buckling under the weight of the nickname.

You slowly nod against his hand still on your face and regretfully make your way to the kitchen, Loki following closely behind. He takes off his coat and hangs it on the back of one of the barstools, as you’re putting the flowers in a vase. Pretending to be focused on the flowers, you let your eyes wander his body, starting from his thighs - the rest being cut off by the counter -, up his waist, stomach, broad shoulders, arms, and back up to his gorgeous lips you crave to kiss, his nose you want to feel nuzzled in the crook of your neck, and his eyes… your own forest you’d run through forever. How could one being be so beautiful? Loki was breathtakingly beautiful, tearing your eyes away from his face was a strenuous feat. Turning your attention to your dinner, you opened the oven to check on the food. You jump and gasp when you feel Loki moving closer behind you, his hand snaking up your hips.

“Do you need help with anything?” He asks, his sultry voice making you dizzy and immediately wet.

“N-no, I have it a-all under control,” you stutter, shooting up from your bent-over position. Loki’s hands are still on your hips when you turn around to face him, resting your hands on his firm chest. You’re standing so close to each other you could tilt your head up and kiss him if you wanted to… and you desperately want to.

“I… umm… should go get dressed.” You choke out. “Can you… keep an eye on the... uh… oven?”

“Of course.” He replies, one hand moving to your hair, tucking a strand of it behind your ear.

You give him a smile and head towards your bedroom, where you collapse on your bed as soon as you reach it. Holy shit, this man is going to be the death of you, with his voice, his touch, and his eyes. Every time he spoke, the heat in your belly sparked up to a hellish blaze, making you weak in the knees. He’s waiting for you out there, don’t be a coward, get up, you finally tell yourself. Taking your shirt off, you walk to your closet to figure out something to wear, yet again.

“Oh! I am so sorry, I should have announced myself,” Loki says from your bedroom door, and you jump, grabbing the closest piece of fabric to cover yourself up.

“Oh God!” You scream, your hand flying up to your chest, heart pounding. With a single step, Loki crosses the distance between the two of you, his palms up as to hold you, but he stops himself.

“Hey - hey there, it’s just me. I am so sorry I scared you darling.” He whispers softly, trying to calm you down.

“I- uh, it’s ok. I just didn’t hear you coming.” You say, trying to slow down the cascading beat of your heart. And then it hits you. The piece of fabric you had grabbed to cover yourself with was the cream coloured blouse you had bought months ago but never wore for the simple reason it was way too sheer. So sheer in fact, it meant that Loki could clearly see through it, he could see your naked stomach and black lace bra. You could feel his gaze on you as you turned bright red, scrambling to find something else to cover up with.

“I-I’m sorry, I-I didn’t realize you could see everything.” You apologize profusely.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, his tone of voice stopping you in your tracks. You turn to look at him and you see his eyes exploring your body, admiration pouring out of them. He steps closer to you, grabbing the hand you were using to search with, and running his up from your wrist to your shoulder, slowly tracing your collar bone, before making it way up your neck, gently across your cheek and getting lost in your hair. You moan softly under his touch, the blouse falling quietly on the floor as you reach for him with both hands.

Before you know it, your lips meet, sending jolts of electricity through your body. You reach your arms up and wrap them around Loki’s neck, pulling him closer to you. Your sudden burst of passion makes him groan under your touch and he deepens your kiss, teasing the tip of his tongue in between your lips as he pins you against the wall, igniting a burning desire in you. You feel his hands slide from your hair slowly down to the small of your back, resting there for a moment before cupping your ass and he lifts you up in his arms. You gasp against his mouth as you wrap your legs around his waist, surprised at his strength. He keeps kissing you as he walks you over to the bed, laying you down gently. For a moment, you’re both just staring at each other, eyes full of desire and catching your breath.

“Are you sure?” Loki asks, brushing hair out of your face and then carefully brushing his thumb against your swollen lips. You part them, taking his thumb in your mouth and slowly sucking on it as you nod. The soft moan that comes out of his lips as you suck on his digit sets off an even hotter fire through your belly. Loki crashes his lips against yours, his hands roaming your body. He moves his mouth to your neck, kissing and biting love marks all over it, as you fumble around with the buttons on his shirt, the task being a lot more difficult with this man’s lips all over you. As soon as the shirt falls open, you’re frozen, your eyes roaming his strong, sublime body, hands running over the contours of his stomach, absolutely mesmerized.

“You’re so beautiful,” you echo Loki’s words.

Capturing your lips again, he starts kissing down your neck again, making his way to your chest. Slowly running his right hand up your body, he cups your breast as he licks the other one through the lace of your bra and you’re moaning, your back arching under his touch.

“That’s where you’re wrong, you are beautiful,” he whispers against your skin, making you shiver. “So beautiful, how could I ever live without you anymore.”

Loki begins kissing his way down your stomach, undoing your pants slowly and brushing his lips across your lower stomach. You whimper as he pulls your jeans off and comes back up, hooking his fingers around the waistband of your panties, kissing your thigh as he slides them down too. His hands are back on your inner thighs before the rest of him is, and you’re throbbing, clenching, soaking even more, just knowing that his fingers are inches away from where you need him most.

“Is this ok?” he asks you softly, feeling his hot breath between your thighs.

“Yes.” And his tongue is on you, parting you so incredibly slow, you think you might pass out. You’re wet, you know that, and he knows that too as he moans against you, licking small little circles around your clit. You’re trying so hard to stay quiet, every bone in your body fighting against the urge to scream out his name. You feel his nose pressed up against you as he’s devouring you like you’re the last meal he’ll ever have, his hands gripping and squeezing your thighs, your hips, your waist. He slowly retreats, letting his fingers tease you for a little as he flashes you a quick smile, eyes burning with desire, and you feel a thick single finger slide excruciatingly slow inside of you.

“Fuck!” is all you can manage, every other word and sound stuck in your throat.

Loki starts pumping his finger, in and out, out and in, getting faster and faster, adding a second one and sucking on your clit so hard, you’re about to cum. You grab fistfuls of his hair as you arch your back into him, begging him to keep going, to lick you more. You scream as you cum all over his fingers, the orgasm sending violent spasms throughout your entire body. As you’re trying to catch your breath, his mouth leaves you, making it harder for you to breathe, and he kisses you. He tastes like you, and all you can think about is wanting to make him feel as good as he just made you feel. Sitting up on your elbows, still kissing him, you bring him closer to you, sliding your lips from his mouth to his ear, catching his ear lobe in between your teeth and whispering softly, voice still rough from your orgasm.

“Please… let me touch you.” He groans against your neck and flips you, so he’s lying on the bed. Loki grabs your face and kisses you passionately as you unbuckle his belt and take his pants and briefs off. You’re astonished at how big he is, thick and long, already hard for you. You kiss his stomach as you slide a hand down, wrapping your fingers around him as he throbs, and slowly start pumping your fist. The sound that makes his way from his chest and out his lips is almost enough to make you cum again, and you slide your mouth down, licking that small bead of precum from the tip and wrapping your mouth around him, sucking softly. Loki moans your name, grabbing a handful of your hair, as you start bopping your head, accentuating your movement with your hand. Before long he’s pleading for you to stop, his hips spasming, making him thrust into your mouth. Retreating with an audible pop, you giggle as you take your bra off before climbing on top of him, his dick throbbing against you. As Loki wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer, he flips you again, running his hands along your curves while a happy moan escapes you. Slowly, he slides the tip of him between your lips and you gasp at how thick he is, but you’re still wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you. You hold there for a moment, gazing in each other's eyes and in one swift movement, he buries himself deep inside of you, a growl slipping through his lips.

“F-fuck darling, you feel so good.” He moans as he starts to thrust in you, shattering your entire world. You can’t formulate words, all you know and all you’ve ever known is that nobody has taken care of you like Loki is doing right now. You want this moment to last forever, him inside of you, your bodies interlaced, lips pressed against each other’s, your choked out breaths matching the beating of your hearts to the rhythm of your desire for one another. Everything you’ve ever known ceases to exist, but the two of you, in that moment, as Loki makes love to you passionately. He’s rolling his hips, hitting a spot in you you didn’t know could get you so close to the edge of insanity so fast.

“Loki, fuck! I-I’m gonna…” you start.

“Wait for me,” he moans out after you, pumping his hips harder into you, one hand gripping your hip, the other lost in your hair. “Fuck”. And you do, until his last powerful thrust and you cry out as you feel him explode inside of you, your orgasm ripping your body to shreds from the sheer intensity of it.

You stay lying there for a while, him still inside of you, your arms wrapped around him, as his head rests against yours. Gently, he rolls off to the side, pulling you into his and kissing you deeply. You sigh in pure bliss as he kisses you, resting your hand up his sweaty torso, following the movement of his breaths.

“I think we might’ve overcooked, possibly even burnt, the food,” he whispers in your hair, and you feel him smile.

“Worth it to me, was it not to you?” You tease, kissing him again.

“I’m hurt you would even question it, my beautiful girl,” his reply sending butterflies through your stomach as he kisses you back with infinite softness.

You are lost in the moment, wishing you could forever just kiss this God’s lips.

Taglist : @kingtwhiddleston

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki (marvel)#loki x you #loki smut #marvel #natahsa romanoff #mcu #marvel fanfic series #reader insert #green dress #green dress a story about loki #tom hiddleston #avengers #sam wilson

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candy-and-writing · 4 years

Text

Mr. Brightside

Request by @mmmmm-11: Can I request a Cap fic in which he's pretty cold to the reader because he really doesn't know how to process his feelings and there is some jealously their in feeling both sides and then the smut 😅🤩

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, oral sex, fingering, jealous! Steve, Steve is low-key a dick

A/n: so this took way longer than I meant it to and it's also a lot longer than anticipated. Thank you so much for requesting this!! I had so much fun writing this piece

I am NOT responsible for your media content consumption. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and/or dark themes. By reading this work you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work posted on any third party app or website; if you are seeing this work anywhere other than tumblr and archiveofourown, it has been reposted without my permission.

Steve was silent as you sat in the back of the quinjet, your forehead bloody and uniform pulled down to your torso as Bruce tended to the bullet hole gaping in your shoulder. His shoulders were tense, his features drawn into a scowl as he glared at you, stewing in his own anger.

You knew you fucked up, if the blood seeping out of your shoulder and the burning building you barely escaped was any confirmation. Steve huffed, his hands slamming down on the table placed in the middle of the jet.

You had grown used to this—the sudden flip of his mood with you. Ever since you first joined, he was cold and angry with you. It didn't matter if all you did was try to make him happy, there was always something you did that made him annoyed with you. You had learned long ago how to hold yourself up against the angry super-soldier.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Steve suddenly shouted at you, his loud tone sending a dull throb through your temples. "I gave you an order, you could've blown the mission!"

"I was going after Strucker," you groaned, wincing as Bruce pressed a rag against your wound. "I didn't see the detonator. I'm sorry."

"'Sorry' isn't gonna cut it, Y/n. You compromised the mission. You're lucky I cut him off or else you'd in a lot more trouble."

"I get it, Cap, I do, but can we talk about this later. . . when I'm not bleeding out?" Your vision was blurring and your body was feeling alarmingly numb.

"No, we're gonna talk about this now."

"Steve," Bruce cut in, "I think Y/n is right. Maybe we can talk about this when she feels better?"

Steve's jaw clenched. He was quiet for a moment, and you were worried he was going to explode on you again. He looked over his shoulder, where the rest of the team was watching, and sighed. "Fine."

You let out a breath as he walked to the front of the jet. You leaned back, resting your head on the wall as you closed your eyes.

You left Bruce's lab an hour after you landed, your bullet wound all but healed and given painkillers for your concussion. You were still a little dizzy as you wobbled back to your room when you ran into Steve. He was wearing a slim workout shirt that looked two sizes too small and dark sweatpants, probably heading to the gym. You straightened your shoulders, bracing yourself. He looked you over, scowling before he pushed past you.

You stood there for a moment, shocked he hadn't started screaming at you the second he saw you. You blinked, jogging after him. "Steve, wait!"

He stopped, looking down at you as you stood in front of him. You let out a breath, your world spinning.

"I'm sorry," you said. "I should've listened to you. I should've waited for backup and I didn't and it almost cost us Strucker. I'm sorry."

Steve didn't say anything. He looked at you, irritation gnawing at his features. He mumbled out a small, "It's fine," before turning away.

You bit the inside of your cheek to distract you from the pang in your chest. You should be used to it by now—his aloofness. That didn't mean it still didn't sting, though.

You had no idea what you did to make Captain America hate you. Hell, you didn't think he had the capability to hate anyone. When you first joined the team, scared and defensive, you were just there to follow orders—because Fury had not-so-subtly given you an ultimatum that threatened your life. You were good at what you did, you were good at following orders. You stood in the background and did what people told you to do. Being a HYDRA pawn will do that to you.

But then people opened up to you. Bucky was the first one—being the former Winter Soldier, he knew what it was like to have your life taken away by HYDRA. And for some reason, he trusted you, even if you hadn't spoken a word to him. Natasha and Clint were next, then Tony, and soon the whole team treated you like you were apart of their family. But Steve didn't. You'd been with the team for months, and you were no closer to him than you were to that automatic corkscrew in the kitchen that you could never get to work.

You showered, changed, and sat on your bed for exactly twenty seconds before you realized you were done. If Steve wasn't going to tell you what his problem was, maybe someone else could.

You walked into the lounge area, finding Bucky and Sam squabbling over the remote.

"C'mon, man," Sam argued. "I got a recorded episode of the Voice that is callin' my name!"

"Watch it in your room, Wilson. The Great British Baking Show is on and I'm already watching it."

You smirked to yourself, moving to stand in front of them until one of them finally noticed you. It was your best tactic with the two of them, waiting patiently until they were done with. . . whatever they were doing. You rested your hands at your sides, eyebrow quirking when Sam called Bucky's hair 'greasy', which highly offended Bucky.

Bucky had just pulled the remote out of Sam's hands when he finally saw you. "Oh, hey, doll. How long ya' been standing there?"

You shrugged. "Not important. . . can I talk to you?"

Bucky kicked Sam out of the lounge area, who dragged himself out of the room mumbling to himself about his show. You sat down beside Bucky, crossing your legs and folding your hands in your lap.

"So," Bucky ran a hand through his hair, " what did you want to talk about?"

You chewed on the inside of your cheek for a moment, looking down at your hands as you asked the question that had been haunting you since you arrived at the Compound. "Why does Steve hate me?"

Bucky blinked, then started chuckling. You frowned.

"What?"

"You think—" he paused, sucking in a breath. "Well, I don't blame you. He hasn't exactly been kind to you, has he?"

You scoffed. "No, he hasn't. Did I do something? Is. . . is it because of what I used to do—you know—before this?"

"No, doll, it's not that. Trust me."

You weren't convinced. "Are you sure? Because—"

"Trust me, Y/n, I'm sure." Bucky smiled at you. A teasing smile, like he knew something you didn't.

"Well, can you tell me what's going on, then?" you sighed. "Because I'm getting a little tired of the cold shoulder."

Bucky pursed his lips, his eyes squinting slightly like he was thinking. You stared at him, waiting for his answer.

"You know the party Tony's throwing tomorrow?" Bucky said suddenly.

You frowned, not seeing what that had to do with the conversation. "Yeah. . . ?"

"All you have to do is show up. And wear something cute."

You raised an eyebrow, a smile breaking your lips amidst your confusion. "Don't I always, Soldat?"

You had managed to avoid Steve's austere glare until the party. You knew he would be there for professional appearances, being Captain America and all.

You had shuffled the dress up your body—the silky black fabric tickling your thigh. You stood in front of your mirror, back facing the glass as you struggled to turn your head at the right angle and tie the criss-cross strings racing down your back. This dress had been Natasha's, but had grown too small for her, so she gave it to you. She and Wanda did that with many of their clothes, seeing as how when you showed up at the Compound you had half a duffel bag of clothes to your name—all of which you'd stolen from different shops.

You had opted to leave your hair down, letting your locks fall past your shoulders in loose curls. You did your makeup in record time, finishing the look off with a red velvet lipstick.

Dragging your hair over one shoulder, you clipped the pearl choker necklace Tony had given you for Christmas around your neck, letting it rest on your collar. You weren't expecting anything from anyone for Christmas—you'd never even celebrated Christmas before coming onto the team. Tony's gifts were personal, whether they be deep and meaningful or jokingly hilarious. As he handed you a long, thin box, he had apologized—you were so quiet and reclusive he wasn't sure what you wanted, so he bought you this necklace. That was the first time you hugged Tony.

Slipping on a pair of sleek black heels, you looked yourself over in the mirror once more before leaving your room. You could hear the commotion of the party from your area of the living quarters, music echoing off the walls and people dressed in button-down shirts and fancy dresses.

As you stepped down the stairs, your eyes fell on Bucky, who was playing pool with Steve and Sam. Steve was smiling, laughing at something Sam had said as he sunk the ball into the corner pocket. You smiled to yourself, ignoring the pang of jealousy you felt in your chest. Why couldn't he smile like that at you?

Bucky had noticed you descending the stairs, perking up. He said something to Steve, walking off towards you. Steve frowned, his gaze following Bucky's path when his eyes landed on you. His shoulders stiffened and he shifted on his feet as looked back at Sam. You met Bucky in the middle of the room, giving him a small smile.

"Damn, doll," Bucky smirked. "You look good." You chuckled, cheeks heating up.

"Well," you looked down at your dress, "you said to wear something cute. What exactly do you have planned?"

"You'll see." He laughed at the scowl you gave him. He grabbed two cocktails from a wandering server, handing one to you. "Here—have a drink and come join us."

"Oh, no, I shouldn't. Steve looks like he's enjoying himself and. . . I'd hate to ruin his good mood." Your gaze turned sad without you even realized. Bucky wanted to smack Steve upside the head all over again—he was hurting you, alienating you and all you were trying to do was be a part of the team.

"You won't, trust me. Please? Sam keeps bragging about being the best pool player of his squadron and I'm having a hard time not punching him in his big mouth. It'd be nice to have someone around who isn't on their high-horse."

You giggled, struggling to take a sip of your drink. "Fine, but he starts chastising me, I'm out."

You followed Bucky back to the pool table, Steve glaring daggers at you and Bucky as the soldier picked up his cue stick.

You weren't sure how long you watched the boys play pool, but four drinks later you were tipsy and almost oblivious to Steve's lingering stare. Bucky knocked the eight ball into a corner pocket, yelling out a shout of victory as he won the game. Sam rolled his eyes.

Someone stood beside you and cleared their throat, prompting you to turn your head. Thor stood next to you, his hair pulled away from his face and donning a long red coat and dark wash jeans.

"Lady Y/n." He smiled at you, holding his hand out as you blushed. You always blushed when he called you that. "Would you care for a dance?"

"Uh—" You looked over at Bucky, who was smirking. He tilted his head, motioning for you to go. Your eyes wandered up at Steve, who looked like he was about ready to throttle Thor. He really did hate the idea of his team socializing with you. Smiling to yourself, you looked back at Thor. "Actually, I'd love to."

You walked off with Thor, stopping just before you left their line of sight. It was petty, what you were doing—using Thor to deliberately piss off your Captain. But he didn't leave you much of a choice. Thor rested his hand on your waist, his large fingers brushing against your bare back. You shivered, putting your hand on his shoulder. He held your other hand as you two swayed to the music.

"You look lovely tonight, Y/n," Thor said, looking down at you through his eyelashes. You thought your cheeks were warm from the alcohol, but after that comment, your face was burning. You were sure your cheeks were a bright red.

"Th-thank you," you stuttered. You cleared your throat. "You. . . uh—you look nice, too. I like your jacket."

Thor chuckled. "You do not have to be so nervous, Y/n. It is only a dance."

"Yeah, well, I've never really danced before. . . like actually danced. I've danced for missions before, but things never really ended well for my partner."

"Well, I do hope things end better for me."

You giggled. "Well, I haven't been hired to kill you, so I think you're good." You nervously laughed at your joke, hoping it wasn't as awkward as you thought it was.

You danced with Thor until he invited to get a drink with him. You sat at the bar, nursing a cocktail Natasha made for you while Thor was telling you about the time he battled a pack of trolls in the mountains of Svartalfheim.

When the party was over, you were still talking to Thor. You thanked him for dancing with you, making sure to tell Bucky goodnight. You walked up the staircase, heading toward your room when you stopped. Steve stood in front of your door, arms crossed and frowning.

"Steve?" He turned his head, meeting your confused gaze. "Can I. . . can I help you with something?"

"We need to talk," he said curtly.

"O-Okay." You were overtly aware of the click of your heels as you opened your door for him, letting him enter your room. You carefully let the door slide closed behind you, staring at Steve. "Do you want anything to drink? I can get you a glass of water? Or I think I still have some beer Bucky left in the fridge?"

That had been the wrong thing to say. You watched his eyes darken, lips curling into a snarl as he shoved you up against your wall. His grip on your biceps was borderline painful, his nose inches from yours and you could feel his hot breath fanning your face.

"Don't talk about Bucky. Not now."

You swallowed thickly, Steve watching the line of your throat. "Okay, I won't. I'm sorry."

You fell silent, stuck staring at Steve's features. The barely-there green in his eyes, the crease of his eyebrows, the lines of his frown, his lips. You didn't realize he was doing the same to you until his breathing calmed. You licked your lips nervously, Steve staring at the dart of your tongue. And then his lips were on yours.

You stood frozen—shocked—for only a moment before closing your eyes and moving your lips against his. He let go of your arms, letting you wrap them around his neck and pulling him closer, moaning into his mouth. His tongue darted into your mouth, kissing you like you've never been kissed until you were breathless and had to pull away.

Your lips were red and swollen, eyes closed as you rested your hands on Steve's chest, playing with a button on his shirt.

"Steve—"

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, voice husky. "I'm sorry I've been so mean to you. I just—I didn't know how to deal with my feelings about you."

"Shut up," you breathed. "And kiss me."

His lips crashed onto yours again, his hands on your hips as he pulled you closer into his body. The kiss was needy and possessive, the intensity of it almost frightening, the raw need and hunger behind his actions overwhelming you.

His mouth moved down your jaw, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses down your neck. You fumbled behind you, undoing your dress and letting it pool at your feet. He picked you up effortlessly and you wrapped your legs around his narrow waist, hands cupping his face. He tossed you down on your bed, ripping open his blue button-down and throwing it on the floor. He pulled the white undershirt over his head, dropping it with his shirt while you kicked off your heels.

He crawled up the bed, hovering over you as he leaned down to kiss you. Just a quick peck before he moved to kiss your collar bone, his hands roaming up your thighs. One hand reached under you and you arched your back, letting him unclip your bra and slide the straps off your shoulders. He kissed along the skin he exposed, pulling the fabric down past your breasts.

He mouthed at the soft swell of your chest, sucking a red mark into your skin. He pinched your nipple lightly, rolling it between his forefinger and thumb and you jumped, arching your back. You inhaled a sharp, shaky breath when Steve popped a nipple into his mouth, his tongue lapping over the bud and swirling it around.

He continued to work down your body, kissing lower and lower and sucking marks into your skin at random intervals. He sucked a bruise in the divot between your ribs, one above your belly button, and one just above your underwear. As he peeled your lace panties off your legs and dropped them on the floor, he kissed back up your leg, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your thigh.

You were panting, squirming as his lips met just shy of where you needed them most. You almost screamed when his tongue finally connected with your little bud. He used the tip of his tongue first, just circling your clit as you whined, his thick finger slipping into your center. He pumped his finger in and out of you leisurely, suckling at your bundle of nerves before he quickly added a second finger.

You continued this until you were right on the precipice of orgasm, and when his fingers curled and brushed against that spot inside of you, your moan broke in your throat. The taut rubber band in your stomach snapped, muscles spasming as your head fell back against your pillows, Steve licking up your mess.

Steve moved up your body and kissed you, your release coating his face and you could taste yourself on his tongue. His hands went to your hips and he suddenly flipped you so you were straddling his thighs. You deepened the kiss, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks as Steve adjusted his length to meet your center, letting you slide onto him at your own pace.

He was large. Thick and long and your tight heat clutched around him in a marvelous way and he wasn't even halfway in. Steve had broken the kiss, leaning back and his eyes fluttering shut as he marveled in the feel of you clutching him like a vice.

"Shit, sweetheart," he panted. "You feel so good."

You bottomed out, letting yourself adjust to his size before you rocked forward. You both moaned. Your clit rubbed against his pelvis as you rolled your hips harder, your hands falling to his chest for stability. His hands rested on your waist, letting you move as you desired.

"St—Steve," you whimpered, picking up your pace. The tip of his length hit a certain spot inside you and you gasped, your nails digging into his skin, his body moving in tandem with yours.

You were unbelievably close. Steve hugged you close to his chest, his lips meeting your breast as he mouthed at your nipple, groaning as he ran his hands up and down your sides. He worked his way up your neck, sucking your sensitive skin as he thrust his hips up into you and that was all it took before you were coming. You cried out his name, gasping and whimpering as your head fell into the crook of his neck.

"Fuck!" Steve groaned, thrusting several more times as your walls hugged him and he stiffened inside you, throwing his head back as he growled, his cock pulsating as he came.

Panting, he carefully laid you next to him, admiring your blissed-out gaze as he pulled your blankets over the two of you, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. You smiled at him, your lipstick smeared as you opened your eyes.

"So I guess this is what Bucky was talking about?" you asked, mostly to yourself.

"What do you mean?"

"I talk to Bucky yesterday after I ran into you, I thought he might know what was going on with you. He just kinda laughed at me and told me you didn't hate me. . . . Did he know? About how you felt?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah, he did."

You chewed on your lip in thought. "He said he had a plan. That during the party—oh m.y God."

"What?"

"Thor. Thor was the plan." You looked up at Steve. "Bucky knew you would get jealous so he asked Thor to dance with me."

Steve laughed. "In my defense, Thor was getting way too handsy."

You giggled. "Remind me to make Bucky some cookies tomorrow."

Steve rolled over you, caging you in his arms as he grinned down at you. Your eyebrow arched playfully. He bent down and kissed you, your hands coming up to run along his pecs. He pulled away, his smile sparkling even in the darkness of your room. You swooned, knowing that his smile was something you would never tire of seeing.

"Sleep," Steve told you. "I'll be here when you wake up."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

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tinyboxxtink · 3 years

Text

“The Man Of Your Dreams”

Y’all. Y’ALL.

I was gonna make this a series but then I was like “Aw nah I can wrap it up neatly in one go”.

And that “one go” took 3 and 1/2 hours and 10 pages!!!!!!!! (on GoogleDocs anyway...)

I went with my “keep dreaming about a man and then you go off to find him” idea.

The dating app one might be for a longer series, idk yet.

But this, this is my baby.

Like I said, I had this dream. Specifically the first and last scene. And ya’ll while I wrote the crescendo, I played Tyler Blackburn’s “Can’t Love Me.” Specifically starting at 2:11. I highly recommend playing it as you read from:

“Until out of nowhere--“Y/N???””

But that’s just me. I replayed that scene with the music about a thousand times in my head, I won’t lie to you.

I hope you love this as much as I do!!

Tag List

@wanniiieeee

@dumauier

@word-scribbless

@objection-argumentative

@chasingeverybreakingwave

------

“Oh no it’s happening again.”

“What?! No not now,”

“Yeah I feel it, the pulling,”

“Dammit! No no no…” He grabbed you on both of your sides and pulled you into his chest as tightly as he could, but you knew it wouldn’t help; You were fading, and the last words you hear were:

“I will find you!!”

----------------

Suddenly, you woke up in your bed in a cold sweat.

“Dammit...not again,” You shook your head. “No, no no no NO!!!!” You let yourself have a moment of breakdown, before immediately grabbing the pencil and giant pad of paper from under your bed. You had to get it down before it faded, again. The face, HIS face. You furiously filled in the lines on his face you had missed before, and you finally got the dimples on his mouth right. However, it was the eyes that drove you most insane.

Half filled in while the rest of his face was taking shape, his eyes were the one thing you could never quite get. Not that you hadn’t seen them enough, you had been having dreams about this man for over a month straight now. Every night, the same man. But it didn’t feel like dreaming, not in the slightest. It felt very much like being awake in this world, everything was so real.

He was so real.

And so, after a week of these “episodes”, you decided to yourself that this couldn’t be a coincidence, that it was NOT a mix of your subconscious making up scenarios in your head, it was real. This man existed somewhere, and you were going to find him.

However the question of “How” was still very annoyingly present. Sure you and this man had talked about everything, seriously EVERYTHING. Likes, dislikes, career, life stories--- well, at least you were pretty sure you had.

Some conversations in your dream world were completely crystal clear in your mind--

When he was six and all he wanted was a red bike, and come Christmas morning it wasn’t there. He had stormed around his mom’s apartment having a total temper tantrum until his abuelita asked him to check if she had left her keys out in the hall from last minute shopping. He opened the door to reveal a brand new, shiny red 10 speed bike propped against their doorway.

“We lived on the 10th floor, with no elevator. My mom and abuelita carried that thing up 10 flights of stairs just so I’d have a happy Christmas morning,” He had told you with tears in his eyes.

And then others, containing any real information about where to find him, were a blur. Specific details like his name, his job, even where he currently lived-- they sounded like garbled nonsense when you tried to recall them.

The Universe is a sadistic bastard.

But that conversation about the bike-- it was so specific and so detailed that there was no way your mind could have made it up. No way. But all you knew was that at some point in his childhood he lived with his mom and abuela in a 10th story apartment somewhere in New York City. That’s it.

And one more thing that you couldn’t shake-- his touch.

There had been a dream where he had asked to kiss you, to which you happily agreed. He had pulled you close into his arms, his hands ran through your hair as he pressed his lips against yours. And every dream since then, you two were always either holding hands or holding each other, or touching in any capacity-- as if you were both trying to memorize what it felt like.

Of course this still being “a dream”, a lot of the times your “dates” with this man were just playing out themselves, and you were blissfully unaware that they were even dreams. So you’d never think of asking “real” questions like where to meet or something. Only those few moments before you would wake would you realize “Oh that’s right, this isn’t real.” And by then it was too late.

But today was the day. You were sure of it. You had finally finished your drawing of your “dream man”, apart from the filled in eyes. Only an eyeline shaped hole rested in the middle of his perfect face.

“Okay, that is just horrifying” You heard your roommate’s voice behind you.

“What? It’s perfect, Shi!” You defended your drawing.

Sure you had hesitated telling your best friend of 10 years about your “situation”, but once you decided that you were going to find him, you knew you’d need her help. And so, after a very long conversation over a LOT of drinks, you had convinced her to help you. Well, reluctantly help you.

“Well it’ll be no problem trying to find a guy with NO EYES,” She giggled.

“Shut up, I just...I can’t get them right,”

“Can’t get them right? Girl have you or have you not told me that you have studied that man’s face EVERY night for the past 6 weeks?”

“Yeah but….they’re so...perfect,” You sighed-- the gaping eye hole was mocking you. It was like the Universe saying “Good luck finding him without THESE!!!!”

But you knew, you just knew in your heart of hearts that if you saw his eyes in real life, you’d know. You’d know instantly. You had this-- look, between you. The way he looked at you, the love and passion in his beautiful green eyes.

You couldn’t draw that on paper.

“Well just how do you expect us to make a “missed connection” flier with a demon looking guy like that?”

“Look Shiloh, it’s a start ok?”

“It’s not! You need those eyes, eyes are the most distinguishing trait on a person’s face!” She shook the paper at you.

“I know that!!!” you scoffed.

“Alright well...just, try again tonight yeah?” She put a hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah alright,”

----

The next night you did all the nightly rituals you had read and researched up on how to “lucid dream”. Eating certain foods, meditating before bed, repeating mantras as you fell asleep-- sometimes they helped you take control of the dreams, sometimes not.

But this has never happened.

-----------

You were suddenly “awake”, in a park. Wait, this wasn’t just some generic “Dream” park. You knew this park. You immediately started scanning the sights around you-- kids playing and running around, people talking on a fountain-- The fountain. You knew that fountain. Your eyes darted quicker around the scenic picture for a statute, and there it was.

This was Central Park. And not just Central Park, a very specific part of Central Park that you passed most days on your way to work. Could this just be the “coincidence” normal dream stuff seeping in? Just images of your day being played out in your REM cycle? I mean he wasn’t even--

“Dream girl,” His voice came from behind you.

You spun to face the fountain and saw him in an off white cream colored suit, with a pink tie. His hair was in a coif, and for the first time maybe ever, you noticed him carrying a briefcase.

“Hey you,” You smiled, pulling him into a long, deep kiss.

“So, Central Park today huh? You know you could’ve told me that beforehand I wouldn’t have paid an Uber to drive --- blocks.” You noticed the blurb in his number. Wait, wait this wasn’t happening.

“Wait, what?” You were suddenly “awake” .

“My office? It’s just about ---- blocks that way,” He pointed forward-- South.

His office was south from Central Park, only a few blocks away. Within walking distance.

“What else?” You grabbed him.

“What else? Baby are you ok…?” He backed up one step in concern.

“Dammit, snap out of it abogado!!!” You snapped at him, leaving you both in shock-- but for two different reasons.

He was suddenly “awake” in this world too, but you had just called him a name in spanish that you did not know the meaning of.

“Since when do you know spanish?” He asked.

“It’s spanish? QUICK tell me what it means!!!” You shook him.

“Abogado means--”

-----------

And he was gone. It was gone. You had been pulled suddenly from your dream world, something that had never happened before. It wasn’t even morning yet, the sun was barely peeking out from the skyline. You had never gotten that close to getting details from him, NEVER.

Maybe the Universe was catching on.

You grabbed your phone from the charger beside you and furiously typed “Abogado” into google translate. And there it was, in black and white:

Lawyer.

This guy was a lawyer, who worked a few blocks south of Central Park. If he was real. You sighed to yourself as you put your phone down and went back to sleep.

-----------------------------

And you were in the park again.

“Hey, there you are! Where’d you go?” the “abogado” asked you with his dreamy smile. Wait, was he “asleep” again? And why did you pick up here? He knew you were gone? WAS THIS PLACE REAL?

“ABOGADO,” You shouted at him like a crazy person.

“...You don’t know spanish, why do you know-- Oh my god,” The man was suddenly cognizant of everything.

“Baby! Aw, baby girl I’ve missed you..” He pulled you into a kiss. You let him for a second, then pulled away quickly.

“Look, I don’t know what’s happening but this--” You gestured around the park. “This is near where I live. In reality,”

His eyes widened as he recognized where you were. “This is a few blocks from my office-- in reality,”

“Really? Really.” You were becoming frantic.

“I mean, if this is at all real, and you’re real--” He began looking around the park.

“I’M real, are YOU real?” You couldn’t believe he was questioning YOUR existence.

“I think the fact that we’re both questioning each other’s existence, might be either brain death or some kind of reality where we both do indeed exist,” He smirked.

“God you’re smart, why did I not know this before?”

“...I don’t know, we don’t really get into details usually, do we?”

“No but now-- oh my god, NOW,” You grabbed him again excitedly.

“Now what? Oh, I love that guy’s suit…” He peered over your shoulder.

“Rafael will you FOCUS?” You both stopped and stared at each other as soon as the name left your lips.

“...I-I’m sorry, what?” He was turning pale

“Rafael...w-why did I just call you Rafael?”

“....Rafael’s my name,” He stared at you in disbelief. He actually looked shocked that you knew his name.

“Y/N,” He finally spoke.

“Y/N is my name!!!!” You squealed. “This is happening, this is happening Rafael!!!!” You grabbed him in a hug but he still stood there in a daze.

“Oh god are you fading?”

“N-No, I just...you have a name,”

“...I..yeah?” You scrunch your nose. “Did...do...do you not think I’m real?”

“No!” He shook his head. “I mean I do think you’re real, I just...this...this hasn’t happened before,” He stroked your cheek with his thumb, staring at it while he did it. Like he was memorizing the feeling of his skin on yours.

“I know, this is the most detailed “episode” we’ve ever had,” You pressed his hand harder against your cheek, memorizing the feeling of his hands over yours.

“Tomorrow,” He stopped stroking your face and looked at you very seriously.

“What?”

“I-I feel it, I’m waking up-- damn early court time,” He grumbled. “But tomorrow-- er, today,” He grabbed both of your hands and squeezed them as hard as he could.

“If we are both real, we’ll meet here at this exact spot at 3:30 today, yeah?” You could see his body slowly disintegrating in front of you like Peter Parker at the end of Infinity War.

All you could do was nod as you felt yourself waking up, but you gave everything you had to grab him in one last kiss….

-------------

BEEP BEEP BEEEP!!!!!!

Your alarm was yelling at you, but you were already wide awake. Today was the day. Today at 3:30, in Central Park, you were going to meet your dream man.

If he was real.

-------

The minutes passed by like hours, he would pick the day you have off so you could just sit there and stare at your phone obsessively all day. Of course after you had taken at least 2 hours to make sure you looked absolutely perfect for your man.

You wanted to look like his dream girl.

Finally, it was 3:20. Shiloh had come home early to walk with you to the park, there was no way she was missing this. You wanted enough time to make sure you’d be there exactly at 3:30, not a minute after. You held hands with Shi as you entered the park’s gates and just a few yards away was the fountain area you had been in last night.

“So...this is it,” Shiloh dropped your hands.

“I know....What time is it?” You shuddered with excitement.

“3:29-- you know maybe he’s not a stickler for time like you and needs to be obsessively early everywhere babe,”

“He’s a lawyer, they’re usually pretty punctual,” You raised an eyebrow. “Plus, if he’s as excited as I am he will be here on time,” You were bouncing on your heels like a little girl.

“Well, it’s 3:30 now…” You both began to look around the area. You had brought the drawing so Shiloh had an idea of who she was looking for, although she still deemed it impossible without his eyes.

“Y’know he said he had court today, maybe it’s further away from here,” You spoke out loud, still scanning every inch of the park. You didn’t know who you were trying to convince more, Shiloh or yourself.

Every second that passed by, your heart broke into teenier tinier pieces. You felt sick to your stomach, you were shaking-- you needed to sit.

Shiloh came and joined you on the side of the fountain and held you in her arms as the park suddenly began filling very quickly. There was some sort of event happening soon, and people were getting “good seats”.

“Wh-What? No, no you guys can’t be here!” You frantically began circling people. “How is he supposed to find me if you’re all surrounding this damn fountain? HOW?!”

“Y/N….Honey, chill…” Shiloh tried to pull you away, but you jumped onto the fountain to get away from her as the area continued to fill with people, even police began to survey the area-- they stared at you, whispering things into their walkies. They were going to ask you to get down. They were going to ask you to leave. They were going to make you lose your chance forever--- and you couldn’t have that.

“RAFAEL!!!!!!” You started screaming into the crowd. Several members of the crowd began turning and staring at you as you repeated the name over and over again, walking around on top of the fountain as you did.

“Are you nuts you’re going to get us arrested!!” Shiloh hissed, pulling on your arm.

“I don’t care--- RAFAEL!!!!!” You knocked her hand away and started screaming again.

“Ma’am, you’re going to need to come with us,” A Park Ranger started for your hand but you evaded it as you continued circling and screaming like an insane person.

“NO!!! I CAN’T!!!!! HE’LL BE HERE!!!! RAFAEL!!!!!!”

-------

“I mean, are you SURE it was this end of the park, Rafa?” Olivia Benson circled the same spot her and Rafael had been walking around for several minutes now.

“Yeah, I’m sure! There was a statue--”

“There are a LOT of statues in here, Rafa. Did you see anything else in this ‘dream’?”

“Look Liv, I appreciate you coming with me even though you don’t believe in this at all, but the snarkiness is not helping,” He folded his arms with a scowl.

“I’m sorry, I’ll--” Olivia was cut off mid-sentence by her walkie going off. “Benson.”

“Yeah hi, this is the CP patrol-- We heard you were around here, and I think we’ve got a-- what do you call it, special victim? This girl’s running around crazy yelling for some dude, I think she might be a few circuits short of a circuit board,”

“Where are you?”

“The South Entrance by Lootney Fountain,” As those words rang out through her walkie, Rafael’s eyes widened.

“The fountain…” He muttered, beginning to sprint across the park. “I forgot about the fountain!!!!!!”

-------

The CP Patrol had gotten you off the fountain and were trying to calm you down, but you wouldn’t stop yelling Rafael’s name. Until out of nowhere--

“Y/N???”

You’d know that voice anywhere. You jumped out of the cop’s reach and back onto the fountain where you could see over the crowd. Your eyes frantically searched when you saw a man running towards the fountain; from across the park, and then you saw his face.

It was Rafael.

The second you locked eyes, you both just stopped moving entirely. You were pretty sure you had stopped breathing. You could see everything in those big beautiful green eyes you had the hardest time putting down on paper. You saw the same thoughts running through his head as yours:

He was real. You were real.

“Y/N!!!!!!” He finally yelled, making the crowd turn to face him. He disappeared into the sea of people as you jumped down and began tearing through them like mad.

“RAFAEL!!!!” You screamed, knocking people over left and right. He was sprinting across the lawn, more desperate to get to you than anything in his entire life.

“Y/N!!!!!!” You heard his voice again, and this time it was so much closer. So crisp and clear, just like it was in your dreams-- But this was real. It was really happening. You gave one last push through a group of stragglers to come upon a man huffing and puffing in a cream colored suit, with a pink tie. But he seemed to lose all signs of fatigue as you hurled yourself into his arms-- his real, open arms. He spun you around and kissed you deeper and harder than he ever had in any of your encounters.

And it was real.

You felt it even more than the most detailed of dreams, his taste, the feel of his touch, his smell. You stood there locked in a kiss for several seconds, while Olivia waved off the coppers and Shiloh had broken through the crowd to see your very real dream man.

Finally, after convincing yourself to pull away from him, you looked into his eyes. His real, green eyes. You stroked his cheek while he kept the tightest grip around your waist, as if you were going to float away if he let up one second.

“You’re real,” You blinked back tears.

“So are you,” He held back his own tears, stroking yours away from your cheeks.

“I love you, Rafael,” You whispered, still scared to death you’d wake up at any moment.

“I love you, YN-- my dream girl,” He smiled back, pulling you into another long kiss.

That night you had normal dreams, which you didn’t mind in the slightest; because you slept in the arms of the man of your dreams.

#rafael barba #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba imagine #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction #omg #one of my faves tbh #soulmate trope #Raul Esparza

59 notes · View notes

samanthadalton · 3 years

Text

So we meet again

This was an idea that popped into my head and I just had to write it, I’ve been having the worst writer’s block so I’m really glad this fic is helping me to break out of it, I hope you guys enjoy!

pairings: Poppy x Bea

there’s some swearing so just be mindful, also Poppy is in a hetero relationship (but dw it doesn’t last)

taglist: @cloud9in @somewillwin @baexpoppy @save-me-the-last-dance @helpconfusedpersonhere @dopeyouth @iamsimpforpoppy @alleycat97 @alexlabhont @thedaft1 (if anyone wants to be added or taken off my poppy taglist just let me know)

word count: 3.5k (its worth it i promise)

Poppy stares at herself in her compact mirror, carefully applying another coat of lipstick before puckering her lips and putting the mirror back in her bag. She runs a hand through her hair, smoothing down the baby hairs that stick up at the front, she always hated those little hairs. The car door suddenly opens and a hand appears stretched out waiting for the girl. Poppy slides her hand into the awaiting hand, sliding out of the car with the utmost grace, and once she’s out, she brings down her hands to smooth out the creases in her dress before turning to her partner with a smile.

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” he replies with a curt nod. He lifts his arm up and Poppy wraps her arm around it, “shall we?” They’re led inside the restaurant and into one of the more private tables near the back and handed a menu as they sit in their seats.

“Mmm, this is a nice place, how did you find it?” Poppy’s gaze darts around the room, appraising the lavish decor, a small smile on her lips.

“It recently opened up and a good friend of mine recommended it, I thought it would be the perfect place for our anniversary.” He gives Poppy a wide grin before taking her hand in his, placing a chaste kiss on her knuckles.

“Can I take your order?” The voice makes Poppy freeze in her seat, the familiarity of the smooth midwestern tone, washing all over her, she slowly raises her head to see Bea Hughes standing in front of the table, a pen and notebook in her hands as she looks expectedly at the couple. “Do you need more time?” Her tone is almost comical as she gives the strawberry blonde a small smirk.

“Bea Hughes,” Poppy says with feigned disinterest, “Why am I not surprised you’d end up in a job as dismal as a waitress.”

“Poppy!” her partner calls out, his tone slightly reprimanding, “I apologise.” His gaze flits between Bea and Poppy, discerning the tension between the two women, “I take it you know each other?” his hand gestures between Bea and Poppy.

“You could say something like that,” Bea retorts, her eyes twinkling impishly, Poppy scoffs and awkwardly glances down, busying herself by turning her attention to the menu in front of her. “We were college friends.”

“We weren’t friends,” Poppy bluntly states, as she glances up, raising an eyebrow at the girl. “We were merely...acquaintances.”

Bea bites back a retort before turning her attention to Poppy’s companion, “Sorry I haven’t caught your name yet,” she raises her hand towards the gentleman who takes her hand giving her a sturdy handshake.

“Darren.”

Bea glances at Poppy, a hint of amusement in her face, “Darren.” She glances back at Darren, “And how do you know our dear Poppy?”

“I’m her boyfriend.”

Bea’s eyebrows shoot up, “boyfriend? Huh.” She looks at Poppy who looks like she’s a couple of seconds from exploding as her cheeks flush with an intense red.

“Can we place our order now?” Darren inquires, his tone slightly agitated as he gives Bea a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Bea clears her throat before plastering a smile on her face.

“Of course, what would you guys like?”

“I’ll have the beef bourguignon and Miss Min Sinclair will have the parmesan risotto with roasted shrimp.” Bea raises a subtle eyebrow, surprised at the forwardness of Poppy’s boyfriend but even more so from Poppy’s submissiveness. “Oh also a bottle of your finest wine, I don’t care about the price.”

Bea expertly hides her annoyance, “of course, I’ll have someone bring that to you.”

A couple of hours go by as Bea watches from afar while Poppy clinks her glass with Darren’s, a boisterous laugh coming out of her as she engages in conversation with him. Bea watches with a frown, her eyes narrowed as she assesses Poppy’s demeanour, the strawberry blonde’s back is abnormally straight, her posture expertly rigid. She abruptly stands and makes her way towards the bathroom. Bea finds her opportunity and follows Poppy, confronting the strawberry blonde.

“Stalking me now?” Poppy says, her tone unfazed as she fixes her makeup in the mirror, not even bothering to spare a glance at Bea.

“It’s been what three, four years and that’s all you can say to me?” Bea hides the hurt in her voice as her eyes find Poppy’s in the mirror.

“I don’t know what you want me to say Farmsville, I just want to enjoy a nice night out with my boyfriend.”

Bea snorts, “yeah you’re having such a great time,” she retorts, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

That seems to agitate Poppy as she turns to face Bea, her face scrunched into a scowl, “what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Bea takes a careful step towards Poppy, “it means you don’t really like him.”

Poppy lets out an airy laugh, “oh because you know me so well?”

“Well enough to know he isn’t good enough for you.”

Poppy gapes her mouth open slightly, startled at the intensity of Bea’s admission. She quickly masks her surprise by snapping back, “and you think you are? Please I have higher standards than wanting to mess around with a waitress.”

“Actually…” Bea smirks at Poppy, “I own the place.” She steps closer to Poppy, keeping a safe distance from the strawberry blonde but close enough to almost feel the heat radiate from her body.

“What?” Poppy splutters, she shakes her head with skepticism, “you’re lying.”

“You wanna see the certificate? Did you not once wonder why I’m wearing a fancy suit and everyone else is just wearing a shirt and trousers?”

“I-” Poppy says stunned. Her expression turns to slight anger, brows furrowing together, “so why the hell did you serve my table?”

Bea shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly, which frustrates Poppy even more, “I don’t know, guess I wanted to see how you would react when you see me. I mean didn’t the restaurant name give you any indication? Digne d'une reine,” Bea says with an exaggerated french accent.

“Fit for a queen,” Poppy whispers as she looks up at Bea, her expression softening, “you remembered.”

“I never forgot,” Bea says, her voice low as she leans in, her eyes searching Poppy’s, awaiting for her permission. Poppy bites her lip slightly before pressing her lips against Bea’s. The kiss quickly grows fervent as Bea’s hands slip around Poppy’s waist pulling her closer while Poppy’s arms snake around Bea’s neck. The bathroom door suddenly opens and the two women pull apart, quickly composing themselves.

“I need to go,” Poppy whispers as she promptly trudges out of the bathroom, not daring to look back at Bea. Bea watches as Poppy stalks over to the table, hastily whispering in Darren’s ear as he gets up from his seat. Poppy throws a couple of hundreds on the table and walks out of the restaurant. Bea feels a pang in her heart as Poppy walks out of her life once again, unable to stop her once again.

…..

A couple of days later, Bea sits in Zoey’s apartment, recalling the night she saw Poppy as Zoey listens intently, a worried look on her face.

“Bea you already know what I’m going to say,” Zoey says, a sharpness in her tone.

“It’s different now, we’ve both grown up,” Bea responds, defensively.

“She broke your heart before and you guys weren’t even dating.”

“Not officially but there was something there,” Zoey raises her eyebrow dubiously earning a sigh from Bea. “Zoey this guy that she’s seeing is a total douche.”

“Isn’t that her type?” Zoey jests.

“I’m serious Zo, when have you ever known Poppy not to speak for herself?”

“Never?” Zoey quickly replies.

“Exactly! This guy didn’t even let her order her own food.”

“Maybe because he knew what she wanted.”

“No,” Bea shakes her head, “he ordered her a risotto, a freaking risotto Zo.”

“Bea...Poppy Min Sinclair is like a black hole, don’t let her suck you back into her life like this, okay it took you ages to get over her.”

Bea sighs defeatedly, “you don’t need to worry, I don’t think I’ll see her ever again.” A noticeable sadness swims in Bea’s eyes and Zoey can’t help but feel a pang of worry in her chest. Wordlessly, she wraps her arms around Bea and pulls her in for a comforting hug.

Bea’s phone buzzes pulling her out of the moment as she reaches out to check her messages, “anyone important?”

“Crap,” Bea sniffles wiping away the tears in her eyes, “someone hired us last minute to cater for an event tonight and I have to oversee it.”

Zoey unwraps her arms, and gives Bea a small pat on her back, “remember, no more thinking about Poppy.”

Bea nods and plasters a smile on her face, “no more Poppy.”

…..

Bea oversees the caters, giving out orders as they prepare dinner while the rest of the guests settle inside the hall, she fixes the strap of her dress as walks into the hall and assesses the tables making sure all of them have a basket of bread on them.

“What the fuck Farmsville, do I need a restaining order?”

Bea sighs before facing the strawberry blonde, her mind flashing back to the memory of them kissing a couple of days ago, and she feels the heat rising to her cheeks. “I’m not following you Pops.”

“Then what the fuck at you doing here?” Poppy conspicuously looks around the room, hoping no one has noticed the altercation between her and Bea.

“I was hired to cater for this event Pops,” Bea says her tone flat as she remembers Zoey’s words of not letting Poppy back into her life. “I’m just doing my job, don’t worry I’ll stay away.” Bea sees an anguished expression flash across Poppy’s face before she replaces it with a trained blank look. Before Bea can help herself, she finds her eyes wandering down Poppy’s body, taking in the dress she’s wearing and how perfectly it fits around her body.

A cat-like smirk appears on Poppy’s face as she watches the girl appraise her, “see something you like?”

Bea snaps her gaze back up to Poppy, a sheepish smile on her face, “sorry,” she mumbles out, “I’m just surprised.”

Poppy raises an eyebrow, “surprised?”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not wearing pink.”

“Right,” Poppy smooths down her black dress, “well black usually alludes power and authority and I need that for tonight if I’m going to impress these investors tonight. And I’m wearing my lucky pink underwear.” Realising what she’s just said, Poppy’s eyes widen as she takes a step back from Bea, “I should get back.”

“Uh right, okay,” Bea says softly as Poppy gives Bea a curt nod before walking away, joining her boyfriend at the head table. “Great going Bea,” she whispers dejectedly to herself before fixating her attention on just trying to get through the rest of the night.

Poppy is almost like a beacon, drawing in all sorts of audiences as she entices the guests with her business knowledge while her boyfriend stays by her side, practically attached to her. Poppy and Bea share a few glances but whenever they make eye contact they both awkwardly glance away. While the guests are eating, Bea slips away to take her break, making her way to the balcony, grateful it’s empty. She pulls a single cigarette from her packet before putting it between her lips. Once she puts the lighter down, she takes a huge huff, attempting to subdue all the stress of tonight.

“I didn’t take you for a smoker,” a voice calls out from behind her, Bea doesn’t need to look back to know it’s Poppy.

“Well I try not to make a habit out of it, only smoke when I’m stressed.” Poppy saunters over to Bea and lifts her hand up expectantly, Bea raises an eyebrow before pulling the cigarette out of her mouth placing it in Poppy’s hand. “Didn’t take you for a smoker either.”

Poppy takes a large inhale, before blowing the smoke out, she keeps her eyes trained on the view of the city, “only smoke when I’m stressed.” In her peripheral vision, Bea can see a hint of a smile on Poppy’s lips and she feels the butterflies in her stomach.

“So… how’s life been since Belvoire?”

“Is this your attempt at small talk?” Poppy cynically replies.

“Just want to know how you’ve been.”

Poppy sighs, “alright I’ll take the bait,” she puckers her lips as if she’s in deep thought before answering, “I’m slowly taking over my father’s empire, travelled a bit and..” she trails off.

“And you met Darren,” Bea snidefully adds.

“And I met Darren.” Poppy turns her head to glance at Bea, “you don’t like him,” she says as a statement.

“Just wondering how you guys met I guess, I mean he’s good looking or whatever but a total snob.”

“Didn’t you think I was a snob too?”

“I still do, extremely presumptuous too,” that comment elicits a small chuckle from Poppy, “but he seems like an ass. I’ve been watching the way he’s been treating my staff tonight, let’s just say they’re purposely sabotaging his food.”

“He wasn’t always like this you know, when we first met he was the sweetest guy. I didn’t really like him that much but he kept surprising me and eventually I agreed to go out with him.” Poppy gazes down at the mostly burnt out cigarette, she throws it onto the floor, squashing it with her heel before looking at Bea, “I guess it’s only fitting I ask too, how’s life been for you?”

Bea sharply inhales, “good, I mean I own two restaurants-”

“Wait two? What’s the second?”

“You’re going to make fun of me.”

“I probably will but tell me anyway,” Poppy jests, her grin widens as she relaxes more in Bea’s presence.

“It’s a diner downtown, I named it Farmsville.”

Poppy lets out a laugh, one that seems more genuine than the chuckles she’s been letting out tonight, “seriously?”

“I’m dead serious,” Bea responds, her own smile widening as she laughs along with the strawberry blonde, “the tagline is a little taste of home.”

“So both of your restaurants’ names revolve around me?” Poppy raises a playful eyebrow at the girl but Bea doesn’t answer, she just gives Poppy a small wink before swiftly changing the subject.

“How are Veronica and Chloe?”

“Well V actually managed to become a big time influencer, we see each other from time to time when she’s in New York. Chloe on the other hand,” Poppy trails off, “she’s decided to go into fashion.”

“Why do you say that like she’s made a bad decision?”

“Well her eye for style isn’t exactly the best, she always comes up with the most ludacris stuff, like old Lady Gaga style stuff.”

Bea lets out an airy laugh, “let’s hope no one’s shown her the iconic meat dress.”

“How’s new money?”

“Zoey,” Bea enunciates as she gives Poppy a look, “is great, we see each other regularly since she has a studio in New York. I just hung out with her a couple of days ago.”

“Oh?” Poppy says indifferently.

“Yep, I told her about you.”

Poppy raises an eyebrow at Bea, “what exactly did you tell her?”

“Just how we bumped into each other,” she sees the worry flash across Poppy’s face, “don’t worry I didn’t tell her about our kiss.”

“Bea..don’t.”

“We kissed Pops, you can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”

“Bea stop,” Poppy commandly says, a tinge of anger in her tone, “I have a boyfriend and I’m building something here, you can’t just-”

“Just what? There was something between us Pops.”

Poppy puts a hand up cutting Bea off, her gaze trained to the floor, “Bea it was just sex, you thought it was something more and then got hurt when I broke it off.”

Bea scoffs, “is that you’ve been telling yourself all these years? That it was just sex?” The pain in Bea’s voice is explicit, she doesn’t hold herself back. “Maybe it was sex at first but there was something there, I didn’t imagine it.” Poppy presses her lips together in a thin line, still unable to meet Bea’s gaze. “What about the nights you’d ask me to stay so I could hold you, or the nights we’d talk about our hopes and dreams. Just because we weren’t officially dating doesn’t mean feelings weren’t involved. You were just a coward and you ran away.”

That seems to spur Poppy as her gaze snaps to Bea, a fire burning in her eyes, “I’m a coward?”

“If it didn’t mean anything to you, look me in my eyes right now and tell me that it was just meaningless sex, that all those nights we spent together meant nothing to you and I swear Poppy I’ll walk away right now and I’ll let you go.”

Poppy stares intensely into Bea’s, she sees the hurt mixed in with fear as she feels a pang in her own heart, “I-”

“Bea? There’s an issue with the desserts,” the voice calls out to them, jerking the two girls away from each other.

“Thanks Cass, I’ll be there in a minute.” The worker gives Bea a nod before heading back into the hall, “I guess that’s my break over,” Bea looks over at Poppy to see her expression abashed, “I’ll see you around I guess.” Bea leaves through the balcony doors and for the first time Poppy watches Bea walk away from her.

After a few moments, Poppy pulls herself together, she breathes in the crisp air letting it settle into her lungs, as she plasters on a wide smile before entering the hall again. She makes a beeline for her table and when she settles in, Darren wraps his arm around her, before whispering in her ear, “where the hell were you?” although he has a smile on his face, his tone is full of malice.

Poppy gulps slightly, before whispering back, “I just needed some air.”

“So why do you smell of smoke?”

Something in Poppy seems to snap and when she faces Darren her eyes are blazing with fury, “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are but you’re not my damn keeper,” her voice reverterbrates slightly, capturing the attention of the people on her table. “I know you’re only using me for my father’s approval, but I’m a Min fucking Sinclair, I don’t need anyone especially you trying to tell me how to live my life. I’ve been on top my entire life and I don’t intend ever letting anyone take that from me, especially not a self pompous ass who doesn’t care about anyone but himself.” Darren’s face goes completely pale as he watches Poppy leave, unable to utter a single syllable.

Poppy leaves through the back in order to avoid the looks and whispers of the guests but as she opens the door she comes face to face to Bea who’s packing up a delivery truck. Bea looks over to see a haunted look on Poppy’s face and throws the box in her hands into the truck before approaching her.

“Pops, what’s wrong?”

“I’m done running away Bea, I’m done with trying to let people tell me how to live, I’m done with it.” She hesitantly reaches out to Bea, her hand just hovering over Bea’s, “you were right before, I was being a coward. I saw myself falling for you and I was scared that you would break my heart or I would do something to fuck it all up, so I ended whatever we had so we both couldn’t get hurt.” Her fingers lace with Bea’s as she looks up to her girl, her voice low, “I guess it was too late for that.” Poppy watches Bea’s expression closely, she watches as the girl’s brows furrow.

“Pops, you broke my heart.”

“I know.”

“You know how hard it was to get over you? I mean I know it’s stupid since we weren’t actually together but that’s how much of an effect you had on me, Poppy Min Sinclair.” She takes a step closer to the strawberry blonde cupping her cheeks with both hands, “the funny thing is, I don’t think I ever got over you, not completely.”

“I don’t think I did either, I know we were practically enemies at first but somewhere along the line that changed, and it scared the shit out of me.”

“It scared me too.” Bea leans in, her lips ghosting around Poppy’s, “I know it’s been years and we’ve probably grown and changed a lot since college but,” her eyes bore into Poppy’s as if she’s looking right into her very soul, “I want you.”

Bea presses her lips into Poppy’s, passion immediately building up in the kiss as Bea leads Poppy backwards, pushing her back up against the wall. Poppy moans, wrapping her arms around Bea’s neck pulling her even closer. Bea breaks the kiss and begins placing open mouthed kisses across Poppy’s jaw before taking the strawberry blonde’s earlobe in between her teeth, giving it a small bite. “God,” Poppy groans out, “stop with the foreplay farmsville.”

Poppy feels Bea breaking into a wide smile against the crook of her neck, “I guess some things don’t change.”

#playchoices #queen b #poppy min sinclair #poppy x mc #hope you guys enjoy

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thebigqueer · 3 years

Text

"Broken Internally." - Nico di Angelo

Summary: Nico meets Eros for the first time in his dreams.

TW: Blood (lots of it), Gore, Internalized Homophobia.

Notes: This was inspired (again lol) by this art by @rottingold

Word Count: 2840

Read on AO3

Nothingness.

Nico suffocates in the empty enclosure. His heart echoes with fear and anxiety as he faces the looming darkness before him. Nico knows this is just a dream, but that doesn’t quell the anxiety that roils in his stomach. It feels too real to be a dream. And, compared to other dreams he’s had, there’s something more dangerous lurking in this one. A sharp chill rings against his skin as he waits for something to happen.

“Hello?” he calls, his voice meek and small in the emptiness. “Is- Is anyone there?”

For a moment, only his words echo back. They ring in his ears, thrum in his head, and after a few seconds, the sound of his own voice becomes too overwhelming. A dull ache erupts at the back of his mind and he stumbles to his knees. His fingers grapple for the sides of his head, if only to ease the pain, but it does nothing to soothe him.

“Please,” he whispers desperately, “make this stop.”

After another moment, the ringing stops. Nico’s chest heaves as he tries to calm the lingering pain.

Then a sudden brightness erupts across his vision. Nico’s eyes burn at the rapid change, and he blinks quickly to try to adjust to the light. As his sight clears, Nico reaches for the sword at his side. His skin burns with anticipation. Straightening himself, he demands, “Where am I? Who’s here?”

No body shimmers to life; no voice illuminates itself. Nevertheless, Nico senses the tingle of life in his core. He feels a presence lingering somewhere around him, lurking in the darkness.

“Invisible?” he murmurs. “That’s alright. I know you’re there.”

Because he doesn’t expect anyone to answer, surprise shocks his spine when a deep, resonating voice says in amusement, “Awfully confident in yourself for a thirteen-year-old boy, aren’t you?”

Nico whips his sword out in front of him and holds it threateningly. A grimace stretches against his lips. “Who are you? Show yourself!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” the voice says. “Not yet, at least. It’s a tad too early for that.”

“Or are you just afraid of showing yourself?” hisses Nico. “Alright, coward. I can fight you even if I can’t see you.”

A deep, amused laugh bounces in the whiteness. At the sound of it, Nico’s skin prickles with rage and humiliation. How dare this voice mock him? Doesn’t it know who he is? Doesn’t it know that he could kill him?

“Oh, child,” the voice purrs, “are you always so defensive? Not every problem can be solved by fighting.”

“Then what do you want with me?” demands Nico. “Why am I here?” Despite still being anxious, the demigod lowers his sword. The scowl against his features stays fixated, though.

“Calm yourself, child of Hades,” murmurs the voice. At the sound of its words, the anxiety in Nico’s blood simmers down; a new coolness pours over him, and his eyes turn heavy-lidded. His scowl turns slack. “I’m only here to talk. No need to get worked up.”

Underneath his skin, anxious energy thurms and boils in Nico’s blood, but the sound of the voice suppresses his excitement. “Talk,” he agrees dazedly.

Though he can’t see the owner of the voice, Nico can still sense the flickering smile as it speaks once more. “I have not met someone as emotional as you in a long while,” the voice notes. “It has been a while since a mortal has attracted me with such attention.”

Nico wants to ask what it means, but when he opens his mouth to speak, only silence puffs out of his chest. He stands alone and silenced in the brightness, awaiting the presence’s next words in anticipation.

“You are an interesting case, di Angelo,” hums the voice. “So full of hatred. So full of misery. Have you met Akhlys yet? She would love you.”

“Who is Akhlys?” asks Nico, whose voice has somehow returned.

The voice laughs softly. “Oh, well, I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough. But that’s unimportant right now. There’s something else I want to show you.”

A fleeting sensation overcomes Nico. His chest expands and turns icy cold as a rush of air flows in. Then, suddenly, all that oxygen cuts itself off. Something falls from his chest and slips through the thin air. Panic washes over him as he realizes something’s wrong.

He isn’t breathing. But, somehow, he’s still alive.

Nico’s hand grasps for his chest as bursts of anxiety pour over him. An empty, cold sensation billows in his chest, and he can’t help but to feel as though something has been stolen from him internally.

But he is solid. His shirt stands out in the overwhelming brightness, absorbing all the light and turning into a color darker than black - darker than even Hades’ soul.

When he looks down, though, that’s when he discovers what’s wrong.

Before him floats a red, pulsing ball. Blue and purplish-red stems hang from either side of it. For a moment, Nico swims in confusion at the sight of it. What is it?

His stomach flips over on itself when he understands.

This is no ball. This is no toy.

Nico opens his mouth to say something, but with the lack of air and his own disgust overwhelming his senses, the demigod stands there choking on his silence.

The invisible being chuckles. When it speaks once more, Nico notes the amusement still lingering, but there’s a colder, sharper ring to it. Something cruel lurks within the voice.

“Your heart,” it murmurs, almost hungrily. “That is your heart.”

Goosebumps prickle against Nico’s pale skin. Tears sting his eyes as he continues to gape at the organ in front of him.

How? he mouths. His hand grapples with his T-shirt and he tugs it away from his body. When he looks inside, pale skin gleams up at him - as well as a hole right where his heart should be. The gap in his chest seethes with hot, smoking anger.

He holds a hand over his mouth in shock and disgust. Nico’s eyes spark with fear, roil with darkness, gleam with trepidation. For the first time since he’s found himself here, pure terror envelops him.

What do you want from me? he mouths. A tear blooms in the corner of his eye and trails over his pale cheek, creating a sparkling crevice against his porcelain face. He looks like an old china doll, the kind that has seen centuries of abuse and neglect in the shadows of an attic. No longer worth anything, no longer beautiful. Only a souvenir of the past.

Though the voice remains invisible and outside of Nico’s grasp, he can still sense its merriment at the demigod’s confusion when it speaks again. “I am merely here to open your eyes, my child,” it purrs. “You are writhing in your own hatred. It’s time you face the source of that hatred.”

Silence spills into the space between Nico and the presence. Anticipation sparks against the son of Hades’ skin and scorches his throat, and he wants nothing more than to fall to his knees and let this misery end. But, by some miracle, he’s still standing upright. Perhaps the presence is keeping him up with some power. If that’s the case, Nico wishes it would stop. He just wants to spill to the white ground and lay there forever. He wants to cower in this eternal brightness, away from all that pains him.

Suddenly the whiteness around him dissipates. A wave of turquoise filters around the enclosure like water bleeding into paper, and Nico stares up in awe at the beautiful color bursting around him.

As the familiar sea-green hue bleeds into the overwhelming brightness, Nico’s body goes slack. He still stands upright, but a certain daze overwhelms his senses. The scent of salty air infiltrates his nostrils, and his blood slows its pace underneath his skin. Nico’s mind wanders higher and higher, floating above some pool of water in his head, and a new intoxication comes over him. His eyes glaze over as he gives himself up to the high sensation.

It takes a moment for him to realize why that sea-green color looks so familiar.

It’s Percy’s eye.

Percy.

The heart before Nico pulses quickly, and a harsh red color bursts across his face. Hot anger rises up his throat but, as the scene around him begins to shift again, he finds that he doesn’t want to act on this rage.

Why is this happening? he wonders. What is the point of all this?

The heart pulses again, almost insistently, as if it’s waiting for Nico to come to a realization.

And deep inside, Nico knows what it’s trying to say. But he doesn’t want to admit the truth that’s eating at him. He doesn’t want to face it.

The blue-green color dissipates, and seconds later, a new scene forms before Nico’s eyes. A slow-motion movie plays across his vision of Percy, his face determined and stony, his gorgeous eyes storming with an angry energy. The demigod’s sword slashes across a row of enemy soldiers - Skeletons, Nico realizes in shock, just like the ones we fought a few hours ago. - and with each enemy down, Percy’s skin seethes with an even stronger, even more resentful energy.

He’s an angry storm, wreaking havoc amongst those who have wronged him. He’s a beautiful tornado, whirling destruction over each path he crosses.

He’s a gorgeous disaster.

Though Nico can’t breathe, his heart twitches as if he’s just gasped.

The scene dissipates again, and one more slips into place. This one is even more astonishing, even more beautiful than the one before.

Percy’s dozing in a dark room, his body slack against the black wall. Nico recognizes it as the dungeon his father forced him into just hours ago. Guilt seizes Nico’s chest like a vice at the sight of him so weary and exhausted.

My fault, he scolds himself. It’s my fault he was like this. I betrayed his trust.

Even in the darkness, Percy’s skin glows with some kind of comforting warmth. He’s breathing and alive, beautifying all that’s around him. His chest rises up and down as he sleeps. Percy’s beautiful lips part as puffs of breath escape his chest. Dark hair whispers against his eyebrows, brushes against his eyes, but he doesn’t wake up.

Nico’s heart pulses again, but this time more painfully. An angry, yearning sensation stabs the child of Hades in the chest, and, without meaning to, he extends his arm. His pale fingers brush against the other boy’s face, and for a fleeting second, Nico almost believes he can touch Percy without shame.

But the image simply ripples where the demigod brushes his face, and with a shocking realization - as well as an angry burst of embarrassment - Nico understands that he can’t touch Percy. He can’t reach him.

The scene dissolves, and Nico bleeds into the overwhelming darkness. Salty tears sting his eyes and sizzle against his pale skin. His entire body shakes with desperation and devastation, humiliation and adoration.

Percy Jackson. Beautiful, disastrous, torturous Percy Jackson.

A painful sob builds up in his chest, but Nico knows he can’t let it out. He can’t even breathe, much less allow his grief out into the open.

Silence floods through his surroundings. His heart continues pulsing, quicker and quicker with every second that passes, mimicking his fear and desperation.

Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.

It’s a mesmerizing scene. Nico’s never seen a heart thud so quickly before. In fact, he’s never even seen a heart so naked in front of him.

It’s disgusting. But there’s a certain beauty in it, too. It’s amazing how such an organ can shift to one’s mood so quickly.

A painful curiousness comes over him, and once again, he extends his arm out. His gentle, shaking fingertips brush against the heart. Nico jumps back at first, disgust roiling in his stomach at the contact, but, as another stroke of curiosity drowns over him, he reaches out again.

Slowly, tentatively, his soft fingers brush against the pink and red muscle. In the comfort of his cool palm, the heart continues pulsing and beating, almost as though it feels at home in Nico’s gentle embrace. A cool sensation overwhelms his system at the contact. He tightens his grip on the beating heart.

Nico has never been so close to himself before. And, honestly, it’s frightening seeing himself so naked.

The presence’s voice resonates in the emptiness again. “Well,” it murmurs, “that was interesting, wasn’t it?”

Nico says nothing. He simply stares at the muscle in his hand, which thuds against his sleeve.

“At last, you understand what I am trying to show you,” the voice continues when Nico offers no response. “Now it is time to admit it.”

Nico shakes his head. Fear trickles down his spine, chilling him down to his core. Desperation sparks in his dark, misery-filled eyes.

Don’t make me do it, he wants to say. Nico’s stomach roils at the very thought of admitting to such a confession.

“Scared?” the voice asks. “Don’t be, my child. I will help you.” Though no footsteps echo, Nico realizes the presence has lingered closer to him. A malicious aura surrounds the invisible figure as it comes closer.

“Percy Jackson,” it whispers softly. “You hate him, is that what you think?”

Nico nods, swallowing thickly.

“But, my child, you are mistaken,” the voice insists. “It is not that you hate him. No, in fact, you hate how he makes you feel.”

Nico’s lips tremble as a broken sob tries - and fails - to escape him. His body quakes as though the world around him is falling apart. Nico’s fingers press the heart tighter, if only to find something to hold on to in the destruction of his dignity.

The voice makes a disapproving cluck. “You are still holding back. Listen to me, child of Hades,” it says desperately. “The only way to move on is by admitting to your feelings first. Confess, child of Hades. Admit that you are attracted to Percy Jackson.”

Nico presses his other hand against his pale, feverish face. More tears slip through the cracks between his fingers, and his eyes bloom with hot pain.

He can’t do this. He can’t be here.

The voice speaks again, this time harsher, colder, more persistent. “Nico di Angelo, you are only subjecting yourself to more pain.” The heart in Nico’s grasp lingers closer to him, pulsing brighter and hotter in his grip. Under a control that isn’t his, the son of Hades’ fingers tighten their hold over it.

“It is up to you,” warns the voice, its tone eerily dangerous. “Either you mend your heart through my help, or you break it with your own hatred. What do you choose?”

Nico gazes at the general direction of the voice. His mind seethes with anger, with grief, with humiliation and chaos. A cacophony of voices swim across his mind, voices of people he’s loved, people’s hated, people who he has no memory of. He’s a ticking bomb, ready to destroy all that is in his path; he’s a ball of chaos, prepared to melt anyone into a puddle of insanity.

He knows he can’t see the presence. But, as his fingers tighten their control over his beating muscle, he hopes his eyes meet the invisible figure.

For a moment, all is silent. Only the sound of the thudding heart echoes in the emptiness.

Nico’s fingers press into the organ. Despite the fact that the heart is no longer in his chest, he somehow still feels the hot pain. The torturous sensation encompasses him, shocks his fingers, travels up his arms. Hot tears continue pressing against his eyes, but there’s something strange about these tears - they have a thicker consistency, a metallic scent.

They aren’t tears at all. They are tracks of blood, blooming from his eyes and traveling down his skin. The red tears trail down his cheeks, leaving cracks of crimson along his porcelain face, and drip down to his chin. A bead of red explodes over the ground.

Bleeding internally. Broken internally.

Nico’s vision swims in red. Something warm oozes from the hole in his chest, and he realizes it’s more blood. His shirt blooms with sticky warmth.

“Do not do this,” urges the voice. “You are only making the process harder.”

Nico’s teeth sink into his bottom lip as his fingers press harder, harder, until they dig into the inside of the muscle. His fingers jab through; warmth seeps through his nails. Nico’s chest aches in sympathy as the pressure envelopes him.

The voice sighs. Then it laughs coldly, murmuring, “You will not hear the last of me, my child.” The air shifts; a cold draft slithers against Nico’s back. After a moment of silence, the voice breathes in his ear, “I am Eros, the god of love. I will see you again, and next time, I will not be as lenient.”

The heart bursts.

Nico jolts awake.

#mmmm i dont know how much i like this but i was really excited to write it so. here you go #my writing #nico di angelo #riordanverse #rick riordan #nico di angelo fanfic #nico di angelo fic #trials of apollo #toa #heroes of olympus #hoo #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #riordanverse fanfic #riordanverse fic

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mummybear · 4 years

Text

Forbidden Fantasy Part 1 Of 2

Part Two

Words: 3835

Warnings: Sister!cest, Flashback, Smut, Swearing, Choking, Rough Sex, Incest, Dirty Talk, Finger Fucking. Biting. Think That’s it.

Characters: Dean Winchester Y/N Winchester, Sam Winchester And Bobby Singer

Pairing: Dean x Sister!Reader

Summary: You are Sam and Dean Winchester’s half sister, after spending some time with your brother’s on a wendigo hunt seeing Dean in his element leaves you with some complicated feelings.

A/N: So, this is my first ever sister!cest fic! I really hope you guys like this, there will be a part two if you are interested in being tagged let me know :)! I really loved writing it, it’s completely filthy as like most of the stuff I write ;) A massive thank you as always to my beta Bee @negans-lucille-tblr for all of her help and support and for convincing me to post this :P Please let me know what you think!

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You try to pull your sleeping bag up higher around your shoulders, but you can still feel the cold seeping through the gaping hole in the side. You still had no idea how it had happened. It had been completely fine when you’d checked your supplies earlier and yet, even with Sam and Dean either side of you all you can feel is the cold. Dean shifts closer and you lean back into him, feeling his warm breath against your ear which sends a shiver up your spine. You hear the tell tale signs of a zipper being undone, and you swallow hard when you feel a strong arm wrap around your stomach, strong fingers pushing just under your t-shirt. His fingers are so warm against your cold skin that you can’t help but sigh happily at the feeling.

You know it’s wrong, but it feels so good. You’d been trying to ignore the way you’d started to feel about him for the last few months. All of the secretive looks in Dean’s direction which you hoped had gone unnoticed, you’d tried to pretend you hadn’t seen every time he’d caught you. But there was no ignoring the way that he would smirk at you, he always made sure that he chose times that Sam wasn’t around to make you squirm, every rude or suggestive remark, or suggestive joke. He damn well knew what he was doing and just how to do it.

Today it had only gotten so much worse after seeing him kill that wendigo with the look in his eyes; the pure anger and hatred as the blood splattered all over his face and body. You hated to admit just how sexy and strong he looked, you couldn’t help wondering what was wrong with you. All you could think about was his hands all over you, leaving his fingerprints on your skin.

“You’re freezin’ sweetheart,” he tuts, unzipping his own sleeping bag. “Got a bit of a rip there, you wanna share tonight? Doubt it’s gettin’ any warmer.”

His voice is like liquid fire that burns across your skin, like everything you know you shouldn’t want but he’s everything you need.

“O-Okay,” you mutter quietly, feeling your nerves getting the better of you. You shift out of your sleeping bag a little awkwardly, careful not to wake Sam as you climb in alongside Dean.

“Mmm, much better.” Dean purrs against your skin as he does up the zip on his sleeping bag once more. You stiffen against Dean when Sam moves in his sleep, rolling over so he’s facing the two of you. You’re practically crushed against the older Winchester’s chest when his fingers dance along the waistband of your loose fitting sleep shorts.

“I could see you watching me today sweetheart, you looked even more worked up than the other times that i’ve caught you.” He smirks against your thin t-shirt just above your shoulder blade.

You stiffen in his grip as his fingers push just inside your shorts and panties, his words catching you off guard, clearly you hadn’t been as careful as you’d thought.

“Dean what’re you doing?” You ask quietly, voice shaking slightly as you force down the moan that was trying to slip past your lips.

“You only gotta say if you want it to stop. But I don’t think you do want it to stop, do you sweetheart?” Dean chuckles quietly, you bite down on your bottom lip feeling two of his thick fingers move through your slick.

“What about Sam?” You ask just as quietly, gasping a little when he slowly eases those two thick digits inside you. “What if he wakes up and sees us? He’s gonna kill us for this,” you breathe out, voice shaking with the effort of holding back yet another desperate moan.

“Guess you better shut that pretty little mouth then sweetheart. Unless you want Sammy to know just how much this little pussy is dripping for me,” Dean growls behind you, his free hand pushing up inside your t-shirt as he roughly cups your bare breast, and you can feel his hardened length pressing into your ass.

A Week Earlier

That night you had stormed out of your house, after yet another argument with your mother. You wanted to know about your dad, about the other half of your family. Once again she had point blank refused to tell you anything. So you’d left, in search of the only other person you knew of, who knew your father, the man that you had called your uncle for years.

You walked through the salvage yard, which was full of fond memories. You had helped Bobby on a few cars while your mom had worked late back in the day. You knocked on the door, your palms sweating, in hopes that your mother hadn’t realised you’d left yet and warned Bobby that you might be coming. You were a little distracted until you heard his voice.

“Kid what’re you doin’ here?” Bobby questioned with a frown. You adjusted your bag on your shoulder and shrugged.

“What? I can’t just come and see my favourite uncle now?” You asked with a wide grin when he stepped out onto the steps.

He chuckled and pulled you into a hug, “does your mom know you’re here?”

You sighed deeply and shook your head, “I just needed a break from her and thought I’d stop by.” You smiled as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you inside with him.

“Make yourself at home, I just need to work on a car out back. Wanna come give me a hand when you're settled?”

“Yeah sure, that sounds great,” you grinned and headed into the living room, while Bobby had left you alone. You already knew that he wouldn’t tell you about your father, where he was or what he did for a living, not even his name, you’d overheard Bobby promising your mother years ago that he wouldn’t talk. Luckily you already knew your father’s name, from your years of spying. You waited until you heard the back door close and you’d quickly headed over to his desk.

You felt bad for lying to him, but at the same time you needed this information, you’d waited your entire life for it and you were done waiting. You knew where Bobby kept his address book and luckily the old man was a creature of habit because you found it and located the name you’d been searching for. You pulled out your phone and quickly typed in your father's number and saved it, making sure you put the book back where you had found it.

You felt your adrenaline rushing in your system and you knew you needed to excuse yourself without making him suspicious.

“How’re you getting on out here?” you asked as you leaned against the car beside the one that he’d been working on.

“Not sure you wanna know, this hunk of junk is only fit for scrap,” he grumbled, as he tossed away a part from the car. You couldn’t help but laugh fondly at his reaction.

You paused, what you had been about to say had been stuck on your tongue as a sleek black car rolled to a stop in front of you and Bobby. You didn’t miss the look of worry that had crossed the older man’s face, but you were more confused when two tall, handsome guys stepped out of the car and made their way over to the two of you. You couldn’t help but eye them appreciatively, both were incredibly handsome in their own ways. You shifted awkwardly under their gazes, even more so when the shorter one threw you a panty dropping wink.

“Sam, Dean. What do you boys need now?” Bobby sighed, as he walked over to them and nodded towards his house. You were even more confused when Bobby didn’t introduce you, but you followed along behind them regardless.

You leaned against the kitchen side once you were all in the house and watched with rapt attention as nobody said a word.

“Who are you two?” You asked confused, realising that you’d never seen them before.

The shorter one stuck out his hand and you gently shook it.

“Dean Winchester, this is my brother Sam-” He nodded toward the taller guy who was sitting at the table with Bobby and you froze where you stood, with your small hand grasped in the warmth of his. You had noticed the way that Bobby stiffend where he sat when he saw the way you looked between the two guys.

“W-Winchester?” You asked around the lump which had formed in your throat, just barely managing to get your words out.

“Um yeah, why?” Dean asked, he wore a similar expression to everyone else in the room.

“Who’s your dad?” You just about managed to spit out.

“John Winchester. Why?” Sam questioned, both brothers seemed immediately on high alert looking like they were about to run.

You had looked between the two and felt your heart as it hammered in your chest before you looked back at Bobby.

“Are they...?” You couldn’t seem to say the words out loud, but Bobby seemed to catch on.

“Yeah kid, they are. I’m sorry, I shoulda told you sooner.” There was a pause; you felt like your heart was about to explode in your chest and Bobby sighed, seeing the look on the boy's faces.

“Sam and Dean. Meet Y/N. She’s your sister.”

Present Day

You whimper pathetically, doing your best to keep your voice down when Dean starts to slowly thrust his fingers inside you and just as slowly he pulls them out, causing your breath to catch in your throat. He chuckles deep in his chest and it vibrates against your back when you lean back into him further, you start to roll your hips down into his fingers. His rock hard length presses into your ass harder with every subtle roll of your hips, until he pulls his hand free from your t-shirt and roughly grips your hip, stopping your movements.

A shiver rolls through your body when his plump lips press against your ear, and his warm breath ghosts over your cheek. He nips at your ear lobe, and all you can do is let out a tiny moan of his name.

“Look at you, so fuckin’ desperate to come all over your big brother’s fingers. I bet you’d let me fuck your tight little pussy while Sam watched, wouldn’t you?” He practically growls, finally allowing his fingers to speed up. You can hear how wet you are every time his fingers roughly move back inside you.

“Fuck Dean, please. We shouldn’t be doing this, it’s so fucked up. We’re family.” You manage to whine out, slapping a hand over your mouth when Sam shifts in his sleep. You don’t want to admit that Dean’s words are affecting you but every dirty word only brings you closer to the edge.

“You want me to stop then, sis?” Dean asks doubtfully and you can hear the slight laughter in his voice. The way he says that has your pussy fluttering, it’s so fucking wrong, but God does it feel good. He curls his fingers inside you, stroking back forth over the spot inside you that makes you see stars. You gasp, clinging to his wrist, feeling the way the muscles tense and relax quickly the faster his fingers move.

“No, don’t stop.” You whimper, feeling the shame heating your cheeks as you blush hard, but your orgasm is right in sight and you need it so bad, and he feels so good.

“No, of course you don’t.” He chuckles as his thumb starts to move over your clit. Your walls clench around him, you can’t help but moan behind your hand. “I bet you want it bad don’t you? Bet you’ve been thinking about your big brother fucking you nice and hard with my big cock, while you fuck yourself with your fingers, wishing it was me.” His voice and his words are hitting nerve after nerve. He’s right, you’d come on your fingers and your toys so many times screaming out for your eldest brother.

“Gonna stretch this tight little pussy out baby, you won’t want anyone except your big brother. Ain’t nobody good enough for you anyway, you’re mine.”

You throw your head back on his shoulder as another wave of pleasure surges through your body, dropping your hand from your mouth, you turn your head when his lips press against your cheek. You finally lock eyes with him, the green of them just barely visible, almost swallowed by the pupils. The tip of his nose brushes over yours and you can feel his breath against your lips.

“I’m so close Dean, please,” you beg desperately, feeling his hips beginning to rut against your ass.

Dean’s lips crush against yours, and he swallows the needy moan of his name when his fingers apply more pressure to your throbbing clit. Before you know what’s happening your orgasm slams into you like a freight train. Dean keeps you held close, helping you to ride out your pleasure until your body is practically vibrating in his arms from it.

Your lungs are burning by the time he pulls back from your lips. Dean gently pulls his fingers out and you whimper at the loss, your pussy still throbbing from your orgasm.

“So pretty when you come for me, little sister,” Dean groans, slipping his fingers between his lips and moaning louder than he should’ve. You snap your head around and watch as Sam turns again, grumbling something under his breath.

“Dean, please you gotta keep quiet, Sam’s gonna hear us.”

There’s a pop as Dean pulls his fingers from his lips, and he chuckles, his fingers tugging at your shorts. “Take these off, sweetheart. I’ll be as loud as I want, we both know you’d love it if Sammy woke up. How about I let him watch while I ruin our little sister? You’d like that, huh?” Dean practically growls against your neck.

You wiggle out of your clothes the best you can, your heart thudding in your chest as the reality starts to set in. Are you really about to fuck your biggest brother? He’s so fucking sexy, full of power and you’re so far past caring, you just want him to own you. He’s getting off on how wrong this is just as much as you are and as fucked up as it is, you don’t care if Sam wakes up and sees Dean fucking you. You feel Dean shift behind you as he pulls down his boxers.

“I fucking love your voice,” you whimper as he hooks the back of your knee into the crook of his elbow, spreading your legs open a little wider, it’s a bit of a stretch with the sleeping bag, but it works. He’s teasing you, with every roll of his hips and roughened grip of his hands, but you get an idea of how you can hopefully get your own way.

“I wanted you to fuck me that first day Dean, even after I found out who you were. I didn’t care.”

The head of Deans cock nudges at your entrance and you clamp a hand over your mouth, stopping the noise that’s about to slip past your lips.

“Of course you didn’t, sweetheart,” Dean groans, finally starting to enter you slowly, the burning stretch of your pussy around his thickness makes your eyes roll back, “you just wanted to be my dirty little cock slut, didn’t you? So tight and fuckin’ wet.” Dean growls against the back of your neck when he finally bottoms out.

Dean unzips the sleeping bag, pulling your leg up just a little higher on his elbow and you can feel your pussy clamping around his cock all over again. Gasping you nod, feeling his fingers tight around your thigh.

“Yeah I did, just for you, Dean.” You whine when he pulls his hips back almost all of the way, there’s a pause and you can feel the tip of his cock pulse inside you.

He roughly snaps his hips forward, causing your hand to tighten over your mouth, only just managing to muffle your scream enough. His deep chuckle vibrates against your shoulder where his throat is pressed, his lips press against your ear and you wait on baited breath for him to speak. Your hand falls away from your mouth when his free hand wraps around your throat and you grip his wrist when he starts to thrust into you, deep and slow.

“See that sweetheart, fuckin’ made for me. You’re gonna be walking around tomorrow full of your big brother’s come.” Just the idea of it, paired with his deep voice sends a shiver up your spine.

“Fuck Dean, please I need more. Faster please,” you practically croak when his fingers tighten around your throat.

“Look at you begging for your brother’s cock. Fuck sweetheart, you really are a desperate little whore ain’t you?”

His voice is so deep and rough, you allow yourself to get lost in it, every degrading word only sends more arousal flooding between your legs.

“I love being a whore for my big brother’s cock.” You whine rolling your hips down onto him harder. Dean growls behind you, teeth sinking into your shoulder, hand squeezing around your throat tighter as his hips start to snap against your ass, “God, f-fuck. Dean, gonna come,” you croak out the best you can under his grip. He’s fucking into your dripping hole with such force and speed you feel like every thrust punches the air from your lungs.

“There it is,” Dean chuckles hotly against your ear, releasing your throat from his grip, you suck in a breath of air when he starts roughly rubbing your clit in fast circles. His voice is much quieter this time when he speaks.

“Good girl, you gonna come all over my cock? You know Sammy is awake right? He can hear you moaning like a bitch in heat for me.”

That’s all it takes for your entire body to cease up, as Dean forces a second orgasm from you. Every pulse of your orgasm sends shivers throughout your entire body, but he barely gives you time to recover before he rolls you onto your back. Dean roughly pushes the sleeping bag down your bodies and you look up at him, flushed freckled cheeks and dark eyes and plump pink lips from where he had been biting at them.

You’re so far past caring who hears you or sees you and Dean’s words about Sam watching still echo around your mind. Surely you would know though, right?

You aren’t given much time to think about it, because before you know it, Dean’s pressing your legs back against your chest, the rough grip of his fingers digging into your thighs as he spreads them a little wider.

“Fuck, your tight cunt was made for my cock, little sister,” Dean growls as his cock effortlessly slides back inside you.

“So fucking deep,” you gasp, locking eyes with Dean as he smirks down at you. His thrusts are slow and deep and your pussy clamps down around his cock with every thrust. You wrap your arms around Dean’s neck, dragging your nails over his back as soon as he lowers over you enough, his forehead rests against yours, breath hot against your lips. “I-I can’t Dean,” you gasp trying to squirm away from him, the sensitivity becoming a little too much and you swear your entire body is on fire.

Dean crushes his lips against yours, changing the angle of his hips and you try to arch your back beneath him, no doubt leaving red marks all over his back from the way you’re clinging to him. Your lungs are burning when he finally releases your lips, your head rolls to the side as Dean buries his face in your neck, sucking purple marks into your skin.

You can feel yet another orgasm approaching and squeeze your eyes shut with the intensity of it, your entire body feels like it’s on fire. Dean’s lips move back to your ear, breathing hot and ragged, “fuck i’m close baby girl, I know you’ve got one more for me.”

Your eyes snap open when you hear a second groan and you lock eyes with Sam, his eyes are darker than usual, teeth digging into his bottom lip. You glance down, clearly seeing his hand moving beneath the sleeping bag. Your muscles clamp down harder around Dean’s cock and you all but scream his name as your release hits you.

“Nice of you to join us, little brother,” Dean groans as the pulses of your orgasm make your pussy repeatedly flutter around his cock. He turns his attention to you as your eyes just barely flutter open, and your legs shake against him. You turn your head back to fully focus on your oldest brother.

“You want it sweetheart? Want your big brother’s come inside your tight little cunt?” Dean growls down at you, sweat coating both of your bodies now.

“Yes, please Dean,” you moan out, fluttering your eye lashes up at him as innocently as you can manage while your brother is fucking you.

Just another three powerful thrusts of Dean’s hips has him coming hard, groaning your name against your neck. There’s a moment of silence in the tent, only the sounds of all of you breathing heavily. Dean pushes up on his arms and you whimper as he gently eases his cock free and rolls onto his back.

“Fuck that was hot,” Sam chuckles from nowhere and you turn to look at him as Dean’s arm wraps around your stomach, fingers gently tracing against your skin.

“Such a fucking perv, Sammy. Take it you enjoyed the show?” Dean laughs, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Well I guess my invite got lost, huh baby sister?” Sam asks, locking eyes with you once more.

You know you’re blushing hard, you can feel the heat in your cheeks but the way he’s looking at you is so similar to the way Dean had been watching you the last few days.

“It wasn’t really planned.” You try and defend the situation, not really sure why.

“Guess you need to make it up to him really soon, sweetheart. Would you like that? You wanna fuck Sammy too?” Dean asks huskily, lips pressed against your ear. You swallow hard, your throat really dry when you realise you really do want that. “Of course you do baby, such a little whore for your big brothers’ cocks.”

You clamp your thighs together hearing Dean’s words, watching the smirk pulling at Sam’s lips when you lick your own. You feel a surge of confidence rush through you. “I guess it’s only fair.”

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remmushound · 3 years

Text

Bay/rise 45!! @errorfreak88 @brightlotusmoon @selfindulgenz @digitl-art-monstr @sententiously-sarcastic @yarchurr @sprinklestheditty @dakotafinely

A very sudden blue light flooded into the technodrome as the floor opened up like a blooming flower. The ninja scrambled to stay on the platform as it shifted and changed beneath the very foundations of their feet. The chains fell loose around him and Shredder gave a frustrated hiss as he backed away from the now gaping hole. He squinted his eyes at first, but then opened them enough to peer down into the frozen depths of the technodrome and at the storage containers that spiraled into its very core. His army, lurking just beyond the realm of consciousness. He looked back up at the turtles and his eyes sharpened as he saw yet another opportunity present itself.

The mutants eyes had gone back to normal, pupils returned in their place. Red eyes for the orange turtle. Black eyes for the rat. He paid attention to the red-and-blue eyes that he knew belonged to the purple ninja and the blue one that had bound him with that cursed collar. Right eye blue, left eye red. That was him. That was Leonardo’s eyes and the turtle seemed to recognize that he had been spotted. His gaze met Shredder and illuminated his fear as the ancient evil locked onto him in particular.

“Leonardo…”

The turtle was alone, and that was just what Shredder needed. There was no way he could clear the drop separating him from his brothers, and there was only one way the turtle could run to escape. Shredder had him by his mask tails and Leonardo knew it, for the mutant fled the minute he saw Shredder readying to leap. Shredder was after him in an instant, the rest of the turtles little more than a minor nuisance compared to the one he truly wanted.

He had known Leonardo was fast, but not this fast! Though every one of Shredder’s steps were no less than fifteen of Leonardo’s, the turtle still somehow managed to pull out in front as he summoned the full force of his speed to escape every slash and pounce and grab that Shredder made at him. Shredder was only growing more furious by the evasion, but he was getting closer. He knew if he kept his patience, the turtle would tire before he would, and then he would dine on turtle soup.

He stopped just long enough to ready himself for a long-distance pounce, but as he soared effortlessly through the air as if made of feathers, Leonardo took an alarmingly sharp stop and pulled back, far cleaner than Shredder had ever witnessed the normally clumsy turtle achieve. Shredder flew too far, and trying to turn midair only resulted in an awkward landing that caused him to crash on his side with a roar and slide helplessly until he met the full-stop brunt of a wall.

When his eyes found Leonardo again, the turtle was running in the opposite direction Shredder, but oddly not back toward his brothers. It was of no matter to Shredder either way. He finally got his feet back under him and was right back to chasing the insolent, stubborn creature that just wouldn’t seem to die.

“Come back here little turtle. Can’t run forever…”

The chase only lasted for three minutes, but for both predator and prey it felt like an eternity. Finally, the turtle could run no more and found himself trapped between the Shredder and a wall with no way to escape.

“Nowhere to run now, Leonardo…”

The turtle took another second to breath before he spoke. “Ugh. Scoff. Nothing worse than being called by your brother's name.”

Shredder pulled back a pace, giving a confused hiss as the mutant spoke. “What?” Shredder looked back to the rest of the mutants. “How did you…?”

Shredder went to look back at Donatello, but the mutant was already gone. He craned his head around until he located the turtle sprinting between Shredder’s legs and dashing for his freedom.

“It’s called a hustle sweetheart!”

Shredder shook his massive head like a dog might. He knew something was up, and so he didn't move for the longest time. Why would they let him chase their brother for so long without intervention? Why had the floor opened up, and why were they all just staring at him now as if he was meant to do something? Unless he was. Shredder eyed a chamber curiously, one that had not been there before and had quite recently been drawn up from below, with a particular turtle standing right in front of it.

Did they think him stupid? Apparently so.

“SHREDDER!” Leonardo was the one who called, “What are you waiting for? Don’t you want me?”

Shredder knew better and he didn't move. He just sat there watching them, curious to see what they would do. Leonardo tried calling him over several times more, but still, he didn't move. Then everyone else started to get in on it.

“TIN GRIN!” Raph whistled quite suddenly, “Whatchu just standing there for huh? Don’t you wanna play with us some more?”

Shredder gave a low growl but didn't move.

“Yeah, ancient evil!” Leonardo mocked, “What’s the matter?”

“Ol’ gull! Ol’ dolt! As ignorant as dirt!” Donatello whistled, “Move yo ancient ass!”

Shredder started to stalk toward them slowly.

“That’s it! Keep walking! You have a few miles yet to go before you reach a mediocre level of terrifying!” Mikey called.

“Pathetic shellbacks…” Shredder snarled.

“I’ve been called worse things by better men.” Donnie said.

“You’d think for being five hundred years old, you’d know how to respond when you’re being spoken to!” April called.

“Wait— five hundred years?!” Mikey laughed, “Dude, you’re like four hundred years older than sliced bread!”

“No wonder he’s so cranky.” Raph laughed, “Someone needs to get grandpa back to the nursing home!”

“For something created by an oni, you don’t really live up to the expectation.” Yoshi finally got in on the drama.

“Yeah, I thought you was supposed to be scary!” Casey laughed, “My gran gran could beat your armored ass!”

Shredder continued to advance, slowly gaining speed until he was in a full sprint charging them.

“Is… is he coming in kinda fast?” Raph asked, leaning over to whisper to Leonardo.

“Nobody moves yet.” Leonardo said, keeping his hands out to keep everyone in place while Shredder continued to advance. He counted down the seconds in his mind.

“Now?” Donnie asked nervously.

“Not yet.”

Shredder continued to advance.

“Now?” Michelangelo squeaked.

“Not yet.”

“Now?” Raph asked nervously.

“Not ye— now! NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW!”

Leonardo scrambled to get out of the way while shoving everyone else to run just as Shredder was upon then, moving out of the way of the containment cell and scattering in all directions. Shredder’s charge remained steady and straight just as Leonardo had hoped and up until the very last second, Leonardo was sure the plan would work. Then Shredder stopped. And he laughed.

“You really think me that dumb?”

For a moment, Leonardo could say nothing. His heart was pounding in his chest and seemed to reverberate even louder in his head as his blood heated his body to an uncomfortable level. Then he smiled and shrugged.

“Eh, more or less.”

A look of surprise spread across Shredder’s face but, before he could move from the place he was in, vines snagged around his legs and yanked him the rest of the way into the chamber. He gave a roar of defiance and tried to charge the doors before they could close, but even he wasn’t fast enough as Donatello and Donnie worked together to seal the cryogenic holder with the Raphael-Shredder inside.

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negans-attagirl · 3 years

Text

Silence

Summary: Negan finally became a Whisperer. Not knowing that one of them will soon turn his world upside-down by removing her second skin.

Pairing: Negan x OFC

Warnings: Creepy freaks, creepy writing, smut, language, cursing, violence, dark, angst, abusive mother (Alpha)

Tagging: @ffakc @thedeadwalks @littlebadgirly @fuckingfuckityfuck @neganssavior-fanfiction @negans-network

Darkness devouring almost everything. Moonlight was the only source of light that guided Ylana through the dark forest, branches cracking beneath her nimble-footed movements, cautious to not attract any biters. Her Vision restricted by the second skin she was wearing, disguising herself as one of the creatures that once destroyed everything she loved.

A silent whisper causing her to stop in her movements. Breathing heavy, she turned around to see pitch-black eyes, darkened by his own second skin.

“She wants to see you. Now.” His voice admitting no contradiction.

Arriving at the camp, Ylana immediately sensed something has changed. People not wearing their second skin, strange eyes following every tiny movement, every little twitch that was not camouflaged by the false derma. She could feel the pressure of his strong hand on her back, guiding her without mercy towards the leader now standing in the middle of a clearing in the forest.

“There she is” a vicious smile forming on Alpha’s lips, not the slightest interested in hiding the contempt. Ylana learned over the years to not question the female leader, hiding her true feelings beneath the second skin she had chosen years ago.

“We have a new applicant, my Dear.”

Alpha’s pale fingers gesturing to a stranger standing between the people she oughta call family, but couldn’t.

He was tall, slender body underneath a black leather jacket. Once black hair, now greying turning him into a silver fox. A deep dimple framed smile on his lips as soon as his hazel eyes met her blue ones.

“You’ll be responsible for him now. Show him what he needs to know.”

Nodding silently, Ylana approached the stranger, eying him up and gesturing him to follow her to a secluded place.

“My, my!” the stranger’s voice echoing through the tranquillity of the night, forcing her to turn around. Pressing an index fingers on her muddy lips to silence him.

“I’m not the guy for unpleasant silence” his hands wielding innocently in the air.

She had to suppress a smile. He surely was something else. Relieved that they approached the little hut at the outpost without another of his disturbances, she threw one of her knives to the ground and signalling him to take it.

“So, Doll. Is your true skin as pretty as that second walker skin shit?” His smutty grin accentuated by the movement of his tongue across his lower lip.

“You simply won’t shut up, will you?” Her sigh now clearly audible.

“Nope” emphasizing the P in the word and giving her a shit eating grin, forcing her to roll her eyes but also teasing out a smile on her lips.

A week later, Alpha ordered Ylana to gather with Negan some smaller walker horde as his very own debut. It was a few hours walk across an abandoned suburb. Seeing all the perfect little houses with their similar fronts made her mind divagate to a time she once lived in a gated community with her obedient mother – not daring to ever backtalk to her husband.

Negan seemed to sense her absence and gently touched her arm, making her flinch.

“Will I ever see that pretty face underneath that wrinkled fucking shit of a second skin?”

Negan has been flirty since they were introduced to each other and she was appointed as his guard.

“Nope” emphasizing the P like he always did and pointing out a smaller horde circling what used to be a women’s clothing store.

She tried to remember the last time, she went shopping. It’s been years since she’d come across a store – since she was allowed to even look at new clothing. It has always been stressed out that whisperers do not need any fashionable clothing, yet anything that was not dirty or had holes in it.

Without hesitation, she grabbed Negan’s hand and pulled him into the store, locking the doors behind them. Taking a deep breath, Ylana turned around to face Negan. Smirking bridely at the young woman in front of him, he unzipped his leather jacket and bit his bottom lip.

“I fucking knew, you can’t resist me, Doll!” Wiggling his eyebrows, forcing her to laugh at him and shaking her head in disbelief.

“Shut up, Negan.”

Strolling through the small corners of the store, examining a few of the leftover clothes that were not scavenged, she found a few items to her liking.

“Fuck yes. I’m up for a little freaky deaky fashion show”

Negan took a seat in a chair right next to the dressing rooms and overserved her. He knew, Ylana was pretty underneath that walker’s skin. Her face pale, rose tinted plump lips and he was sure, he saw a few freckles when her mask got out of place a few times. Her own red hair shining through the straggly leftovers of the walker’s hair that once surely was a pretty young lady herself as well.

“You wish…” she retorted quickly and winked at him.

Disappearing in one of the cabins to quickly try on the few things she was able to gather from the almost empty rods. Ylana took off her dirty porous clothes and was almost relieved to see her naked body in the mirror, detached from the second skin she was forced to wear daily. Not being able to show anyone her true self, always hiding.

She quickly dressed herself in a pair of fresh underwear, an emerald long sleeve plus fitted dark jeans. Gazing at herself, she only just now realised how thin she became, all the better that she was now wearing fitted clothes again.

Almost stumbling out of the cabin, she suddenly found herself in strong arms. Negan’s arms.

He wasn’t wearing his second skin, so she was able to see his pronounced dimples, the salt and pepper beard – silently swooning, she resolved from his warm body to bring the much-needed distance between the both of them. She knew, she wasn’t allowed to fall in love. It would only end in her own death. And his death.

Negan couldn’t take his eyes off the young woman in front of him, now wearing freshly clean clothes and almost encasing her in newly found grace. Her mask still hanging loosely on her true skin, he couldn’t supress the urge to carefully remove the wrinkled mask with trembling fingers. Excited to finally be able to see her true face.

She wasn’t able to restrain him, breath pitching as soon as she felt his rough fingers on her soft skin, slowly removing her mask – revealing her true self to him.

As soon as he dropped the mask, she lowered her head in shame. It has been a long time since someone, all the more a man, has seen her without her chosen second skin.

His index finger softly forced her to meet his eyes, eliciting a gasp from his lips as he saw her face for the very first time. Negan gently touched her cheek, trailing down to her gaping lips and over her neck – sensing her pulsating heartbeat through her skin.

“You’re truly beautiful”

His voice nothing more than a whisper, forcing her to visibly gulp. Before she could react, he gently moved closer to her, hands around her waist, softly pushing her to his hardened body. Her breath hitched for a second. She hasn’t been this close to a man since the apocalypse started. She wasn’t allowed to. Her mother would kill her.

She could feel his soft stubbles on her throat, hot lips tracing down to her collarbone, gently nipping her skin.

Negan grinned, leading her back to a wall and immediately pushing himself against her blushed body. He was rock hard, his length pressing against the fabric of his jeans, begging to be released of the tight confinement.

Deliberately he pushed his thighs between her legs, against her throbbing core, causing the much-needed friction.

Ylana blushed, not being able to hold back the silent moan escaping her trembling lips, causing his cock to twitch and educing a deep growl from his throat.

Hazel eyes searching for blue ones. Almost loosing himself in the depth of her blue eyes sparkling with arousal. He flashed his tongue just seconds before he gently kissed her, eliciting a moan form both sides. Rapidly turning into a more passionate, more needy kiss – dominated by Negan.

“Fuck” a silent, almost breathlessly, whisper against her gaping lips.

Hearing his voice, forced Ylana back to the present. Shaking her head, she urgently pushed him away from her shivering body.

“We need to go back. Gather the horde…” without another word, not being able to hold his confused gaze, she quickly adjusted her second skin and left the store. Trying to leave the memories of what has just happened back there.

Both of them guarded the horde in complete silence.

Both of the could still feel their swollen lips.

Both of them thinking about what could’ve happened.

Both of them longing for more.

Only one of them in fear of what would happen if Alpha found out.

Alpha knew. She always did. One calculating dismissive look.

“Well. Fuck me. We gathered the fucking horde of shitty walkers just outside. Mission fucking completed”

He was visibly confused as to why the both of them were publicly roasted.

Alpha had an omnipotent smile on her lips, slowly walking toward the young redhead standing next to Negan. The leader’s soft fingertips carefully opened the laces of Ylana’s second skin, dropping it to the muddy forest ground.

“You know the rules, little one” Alpha’s low hushed voice next to her now exposed face.

“Yes, Alpha” she immediately answered, lowering her head in obedience.

Ylana felt the older woman’s fingertips caressing her still swollen lips. Examining every tiny scratch, every little flush, every slight anomaly of the young woman’s pretty face.

“You dressed yourself so nicely…making us look like dirty homeless people” gazing dismissive over the fresh clothing of her younger adherent, Alpha pushed her into the mud with one fast movement. Not fighting back, Ylana just got onto her knees, shooting Negan a warning look as she sensed his urge to help her.

“I truly apologize, Alpha. I was stupid. I was weak… Not being able to resist long forgotten amenities of the past. I will accept my punishment”

“Yes. You’re weak.” Gauging the young redhead’s body, the bald-headed woman smirked.

“Maybe I should leave some marks on that pretty young face of yours. So you won’t tempt my man?” Alpha’s voice breathing hot against Ylana’s skin.

Negan seemed to finally understand what this was all about, almost not being able to hold back a deep laugh.

“Hot diggity dog…That’s the kinda thing that just tickles my balls. Two women fighting over me?! Yes. Fucking. Please!” His husky deep voice forcing Alpha to shift her body towards him, tilting her head a little with a teethless smile before turning her attention back to the kneeling woman kneeling in front of her.

“I should destroy your pretty face, Ylana”

Alpha paused for a moment, sinking down to her knees as well.

“But I won’t do that to my own flesh and blood”

With an almost affectionate soft touch, Ylana felt the older woman’s fingertips over her cheek, gently drying a tear that escaped her eye.

“Beta will be your Judiciary. You’ll be his…You’ll do anything he wants. Thanking him afterwards. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” Alpha’s voice now unusual loud.

Ylana tried to breath. Tried not to look at Negan. Not looking at Beta. Simply starring at the muddy ground in front of her, nodding and accepting her punishment.

“Yes, mother” escaped her lips and as soon as she realised what she had just said, Ylana could feel a hard slap across her cheek. Redden immediately.

“I’m not your mother. I was just the woman who had the misfortune of giving birth to you” Whispering lowly, making the derogatory severity of her words even more hurtful.

Alpha dismissed everyone, not wasting another glimpse at the pitiful slut of a daughter who now only was another one of her faceless followers. Wandering silently through the woods, quietly whispering the only words that were allowed to escape their lips. We are the end of the World.

Ylana wasn’t able to sleep that night. Her mind drifting off to an alternate universe where she could just be happy. Maybe even with Negan by her side? Without an abusive mother!

Fearing of what Beta would do to her soon, she shifted awkwardly on the dirty forest floor and sighed heavily just seconds before she felt a muscular hand above her mouth, quieten the frightened cry escaping her lips. Her eyes widened as soon as she saw Negan kneeling next to her, pressing his index finger on his lips and signalling her to be quiet.

Offering his hand, he helped her to get off the forest floor, looking around to make sure no one had noticed them yet.

Almost floating through the sleeping whisperers, Negan guided her on and on, further afar the prison she once called home. Leading her across the vegetated forest, they almost walked for two hours without stopping – too afraid they might catch up and wrenching the young woman from him.

Fatigued from the long walk, they soon found a rotten little hut with not walkers in earshot.

Exhausted, both of them sank down on an old worn-out couch.

With a deep sigh, Negan gently hugged and squeezed the young woman besides him. Pressing herself into his chest, she could smell his own scent: Wood, Peppermint, Gun Powder. It was mesmerizing.

“You’re safe now, babygirl”

He gently pressed his lips on her hairline, stroking through her long red hair. She dared to look up to his hazel eyes, only to find pure affection in them.

“You are the start of my new world, Negan” she whispered against his quivering lips, locking him into a passionate kiss and knowing she will never ever have to wear her second skin again.

She was free now.

#Negan #Negan the walking dead #Negan x OFC #Negan x OC #Negan x Reader #Smut #Jeffrey dean Morgan #jdmorgan #jdm #daddy #Ylana vance #ylana #negans-attagirl #alpha #alpha the walking dead #whisperers #Negan smut #negan fanfiction

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maxineswritingcenter · 3 years

Text

Bray Road - Fox Mulder x nonbinary!reader part 7

TW: Remains

It was so interesting how different things can change how you feel. On (Y/N)’s cheek they could feel the soft cotton their dad’s blue sweater he liked to wear. They remembered laying their head on his shoulder after they fell asleep in the car on a long trip. On their right, their fingertips brushed an objected that made them remember their mother’s wedding ring. They remembered fiddling with it as a small child, moving it from side to side on their mother’s finger because it was too big for her slender digits. They smiled to themself, surrounded by familiar feelings and senses.

But...how?

(Y/N)’’s blood ran cold as they opened their eyes and was met with the skeletal face of their father. Looking to their left, they saw their fingers playing with their mother’s wedding ring on her skeletal hand. (Y/N) screamed, scrambling across the dirt floor to move away from the remains of their parents. Both of their clothes were in tatters, covered in blood, bugs and rats crawling through the skeletons. Roots of trees rooted them to the dirt walls Their bones were brown, their hair was straw like and white.

“I thought you would like to see them.” Winterfield came from the shadows, much less hairy than he had been earlier that night, “Give you the closure you deserve. Twenty-five years of waiting to find them.” He walked towards them with his arms behind his back, he wore black sweatpants but was bare everywhere else. Their eyes were brought to their arm, a cotton swab was tapped to their arm, tell-tale signs of an injection. (Y/N) glared at him.

“What did you do to me?!”

“I gave you what you needed!” He came closer, “I gave you the ability to become stronger, faster, healthier. To be perfect.”

“I don’t want to be a monster!”

He chuckled at their words, “A monster. That is exactly what I said to my maker. I was only fourteen when I was turned. I was a weak, frail child, sickly. I was dying and my family brought us to our lake house for one last vacation. And that’s when he found me and made me what I am. He made me strong again, so strong that I killed him myself after my bloodlust started attracting the locals and he called me dangerous. I realized after that that I needed no one, so I killed my family. But I became lonely, I wanted to share this gift that been given to me. I decided that I would make more, taking children like you and make them strong, for them to realize their true potential. It took years of trial and error, but finally I perfected the transformation. By introducing canine DNA into their systems, they were more likely to take to the gift.” He kneeled down in front of them, “You were my vision. A sickly child that could be healed by the transformation. But your parents took you away. I had to get rid of them, you understand.” He stood again, “They would not let you get better.” He grabbed a hold of their arm and tugged them into standing, “Just one bite. And you’ll be like me.” He looked up and they followed his gaze above, a lattice work of roots on the roof of the cave, revealing the moon near its peak. He looked back down, bringing their arm closer to his mouth where sharp teeth.

“Wait!” They said, causing him to pause with his mouth open.

“You want this to be perfect, don’t you? You should wait until the moon is as its highest.” (Y/N) rambled.

“You’re right.” He smiled, dropped their arm, “I should also prepare what you’ll have as your first kill. But then again, once the thirst starts, it won’t end well for your partner. I am so glad you finally understand. And soon, we will see the world through the same eyes.” He made his way back into the shadows.

(Y/N) bought Mulder time, but would it be enough?

After getting back out of the woods, Mulder led the Elkhorn sheriff’s department back to Winterfield’s home, the idea being that he would take her back to the cellar where the other body was found. But maybe... that wasn’t the case. He made an abrupt right turn onto Stuart Drive.

“Where the hell are you goin’, agent?” The sheriff’s voice crackled in over the walkie talkie they had given him.

“Bray road has been this guy’s feeding ground, I think he’s taken (Y/N) there to turn them. Once they becomes a beast, they’ll associate the road with food, he’s starting the cycle over with (Y/N).”

“Bray road goes out for miles, how are we going to find them?” He asked.

Mulder thought a moment, “We spread out in a fifty mile radius around the site of the most recent killings. I think that he took Jason there before dumping him back on the road since he was the only one left alive.”

When they made it to the area, the officers surrounded Mulder as they looked over a map.

“We start here and branch out. Please use your weapons with the silver bullets, your regular rounds will not work. We are looking at a monster, not a man. He is to be treated as an on-site shot. He is extremely dangerous and will kill you. Agent (Y/L/N) is top priority. Go out in pairs and keep your flashlights on when it gets dark.” He sent the officers on their way. The sheriff came up to him, cocking his shotgun.

“Lead the way, Agent Mulder.”

After a while into their search of the woods, the sheriff spoke up.

“So, do you think he’s already... bit, Agent (Y/L/N)?” Mulder had put off thinking of this, not wanting imagine them turning into a monster. Thinking about it though, (Y/L/N) was smart. Smart enough to get him on a case with them when he would only work with Scully or alone. (Y/N) believed in the truth and fought for the justice that their family deserved. He looked up at the sky, seeing the moon was getting closer to its apex.

“(Y/L/N) is smart, I’m sure they bought us some time.” He said, then tripped over a root in the ground. The sheriff caught him by the shoulder and steadied him.

“Whoa, there, Agent. Gotta watch out for those roots. These trees have root systems that go out for miles, they can make some pretty big sink holes too.” He said. Mulder looked down at the thick tree root that caught his shoe and an idea popped into his head.

“Are there any large sinkholes in this area?” Mulder asked.

“I do believe, about a mile or so that’a’way.” The sheriff motioned to the west.

“I got a hunch.” Mulder said, the both of them making their way towards the sinkhole.

When they made it to the sink hole, they found a large gaping hole in the Earth, there were deep grooves around the rim that seemed to be created in a clawing motion.

“I think this is where he’s been hiding,” The sheriff was down on one knee, looking at the foot prints in the soft dirt, “Looks like he’s left here recently, but he could be back at any second. You go down there and get Agent (Y/L/N), I’ll keep watch.” He stood. Mulder nodded, carefully scaling down the wall on the sink hole using roots and natural footholds in the dirt. He go the bottom, and flashed his light down to reveal a tunnel. If (Y/L/N) was any where, here was probably a good place to search.

He made his way until he saw light again, a voice caused him to pause.

(Y/N) was sat against the wall of the cave, watching the moon move across the sky. Winterfield would be back any minute and they would turn into a monster just like him. Tears burned in their eyes as they looked back at their parents. One of their father’s arms had been ripped away and half of their mother’s face gone.

“I’m sorry.” They said, biting their lip to try and stop crying, “I promised you I would never come back here. But I had to find you. I had to find the truth.” They hiccupped and laughed sadly, “I guess I did it though. The mystery is solved. But I’m going to be a monster just like him.”

“(Y/L/N)?” They stood up quickly at the voice, fearing that Winterfield was back. But to their overwhelming joy, Fox Mulder appeared in the moon light.

“Mulder.” (Y/N) breathed out, running to greet him at the tunnel mouth, wrapping their arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. After the excitement subsided, they realized they were hugging their superior and that really wasn’t appropriate-

Mulder pulled them closer, hugging them around their waist. They were quite sure he could feel their heart pounding. He created space between the two, placing his hand on their cheek. His green eyes were filled with happiness and his sly smile graced his face.

“You found me.” They whispered, leaning into his touch.

He nodded, “Yeah, us spooky people gotta stick together.” He looked over, seeing the skeletons in the corner.

“Is that...?”

They pulled away, and looked at them, “Yeah, that’s mom and dad.”

“I promise. We’re going to give them the proper funeral.” He said.

“I’m afraid, Agent Mulder.” Both the agents frozen at the growling voice that came from the shadows of the tunnel, “The only funeral will be yours.”

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Read the final part here!

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We’re coming up on the ending, what’s gonna happen?!

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@theres-a-dog-outside-omg

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#fox mulder x reader #xfiles fic #maxineswritingcenter

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wonder-womans-ex · 3 years

Text

And The Song Keeps Playing

Part 2

The days drag on. Then they turn into weeks, and months, and those drag on, too. The whirlwind that was Sirius has disappeared from Remus’s life, and he is left drifting aimlessly from decision to decision, not quite sure what to do.

There is no determination in Remus’s life, There is no passion. There isn’t much of anything, really, if you don’t count the empty space on the other side of the bed and the late nights spent at the bar down the street. The only thing he truly has to live for are memories, because his past with Sirius is the most important thing in the world—someone has to remember it, and he knows that somewhere, Sirius is trying his hardest not to.

It’s funny, really, that he didn’t realize just how large a part of his life Sirius was until Sirius was gone. He has no one to go to, no shoulder to cry on, because it was always supposed to be Sirius’s shoulder. Before they were lovers, they were friends, and it never really occurred to either of them that they could ever be nothing at all.

Well, it probably occurred to Sirius. But he’s not going to think about that.

In any case, Remus has only four contacts in his phone. One is Sirius’s cell, one is Sirius’s old work number, and the other two… well, he’s not about to call his mother or his Great Aunt Caroline and tell them that his first real relationship—with a man, no less—has reached its—in hindsight, somewhat inevitable—end.

All of which means he’s left, heartbroken, in an apartment he can’t afford on his own with nothing but photo albums he should really throw out but can’t bring himself to and an engagement ring that never got to see the light of day to keep him company. Remus has a gaping hole in his heart that can’t be filled with anything but Sirius, and since Sirius is no longer there, he has no choice but to not try to fill it at all.

He writes.

He writes because that’s all he knows how to do. He puts pencil to paper and spins stories of completely fictional people who are, in no way, shape, or form, anything like anyone who happens to be named Sirius Orion Black. No, his characters are blond and red-haired; his characters have spring-green and ocean blue eyes; his characters have skin like cream or terra cotta or freshly churned soil. Not one of them is pale bronze with thick dark hair and grey eyes that darken with anger or fear or sadness or lust. Not one of them loves like it’s all he was born to do.

Marcia at the bookstore still smiles at him when he arrives for his shift. She still rolls her eyes and pretends not to notice when she catches him reading on the job. But Marcia, the only person he ever used to willingly make conversation with—other than Sirius, obviously—has no idea that every time he catches a whiff of one of the cigarettes she smokes on her break, he has to fight back tears.

It only takes three months—which is longer than he had expected, actually—for him to look at what he has and know, with sickening surety, that there’s no way he can make rent. Barely a week later, he’s locking his apartment door for the final time and handing over the key to the lady (Janine, her name says) behind the front desk.

He’s got a duffel bag in one hand, full of as many clothes as he could fit. In the other—or, technically, balanced against his hip—is the huge blue tupperware bin full of vinyl records—mostly Sirius’s, but six of them are his own, and that’s the excuse he gives himself for keeping them. Everything else is on the moving van: the turntable and the toaster and the sofa he almost put up for sale on eBay but eventually decided against. He and Sirius bought that sofa together, which of course has nothing to do with it. Nothing at all.

There’s only one thing Remus can’t excuse; there’s only one thing that makes his carefully woven story of not missing Sirius begin to crumble: that ugly old bird paperweight that Sirius had loved so much. It’s funny, in a morbid sort of way, because Remus used to spend so much time trying to convince him to get rid of it, but now, strangely, bitterly, it’s all he truly has left of him.

In truth, he’s not sure how he does anything anymore. His head is still a storm of fresh heartbreak and poisoned Cupid’s arrows and the all-consuming need that is Sirius—or, rather, the lack of him. Sirius isn’t there, which means love isn’t, either, and the truth is that time passes a lot more painfully quickly without those two vitally connected things there to make everything real and meaningful and worth remembering.

So he finds himself standing in the middle of an empty apartment, staring up at the water stains on the ceiling, not knowing what truly happened to get him here, except for that it is in every way Sirius’s fault.

It feels strange when he thinks about it, but this is the first time he’s ever lived alone. He and Sirius, when they made the inevitable change from friends to more at age fifteen—after three years of lingering gazes and hugs that lasted just a few seconds longer than necessary—had immediately known, deep inside, that somewhere out there, there was a one-bedroom apartment and a life together waiting for them. It’s common knowledge that teenage romances never go far, but that was never supposed to apply to them.

He wonders how long Sirius had been planning his escape to greatness, and then he decides that knowing the answer to that question would be what undoes him completely.

So Remus waits. He goes to the bookstore and waits for customers; he lies awake in bed at night and waits for sleep to come to him; he reads the newspaper every morning and waits for Sirius’s name. His heart breaks a little more as first September, then October comes to a close and the possibility that Sirius left him for nothing becomes more and more real. It’s been almost a year, and Sirius’s promise of I’m going to be famous doesn’t look like it’s going to stop being broken anytime soon.

Them just as quickly, it has been a year—November sixth will forever be etched into his memory; he knows that as sure as anything—and Remus Lupin finds himself in a dimly lit bar nursing a whiskey that tastes like crying himself to sleep. Or, at least, he thinks it’s whiskey. He wasn’t really paying attention when he ordered. As long as it does its job of erasing tonight from his memory, it’s good enough for him.

Over in one corner of the bar, there’s one of those Coca-Cola ads—the retro ones with old-fashioned teenagers in old-fashioned clothing. This one shows a redhead girl and a dark-haired boy on a picnic blanket, and the happy smiles on their faces seem to Remus to be taunting him. At the bottom, it’s captioned ‘make it a date — share a coke!’ and he tries to think of something witty and wry to say about it, but all his mind provides is the way Sirius’s eyes used to crinkle when he laughed. Hell, maybe they still do, and Remus has to squeeze his eyes closed to stop himself from crying when he wonders who the cause of Sirius’s laughter—his happiness—is nowadays. It isn’t him, that’s for sure.

Under the sign is a piano. There’s a man sitting there; his fingers dance along the keys to create a melody Remus hasn’t let himself notice until now.

He takes first one step, then another in that direction, and before he knows it—before he’s truly ready—he’s meeting a pair of dark hazel eyes from just a few feet away. The man smiles when he sees him.

“Got any requests?”

As soon as he says it, Remus will wish he hadn’t, but he has to anyway. He owes it to himself. “Play us a song; you’re the piano man,” he whispers, and his voice carries well in the far-too-silent bar.

A grin. “I’d been hoping someone would ask.”

It’s fine, at first. He lets the music wash over him; he takes in the story of a man with not quite enough to live for. But then the barely-there ache begins to consume him. This is, in a way, his story—his and Sirius’s—and with every word, he feels as if his heart is being laid bare. Before, he was hurting because Sirius left him, but now he’s just hurting because Sirius is gone.

It’s the last epiphany he wants to have while he’s here, in a bar at the end of nowhere street, listening to this fucking song and trying for the life of him not to cry.

He can’t do this.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, stepping away from the piano before he can see the expression on the man’s face. A woman by the door turns around indignantly when he shoulders past her, but he barely notices. He’s outside, and he can breathe again, and he stands in the red glow of the neon sign and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and sobs.

#remus lupin #wolfstar #angst #break up #piano man - billy joel #cw alcohol #angsty angsty angst

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gracegriller949 · 3 years

Text

Shining Devotion

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2k

Pairing: DinLuke, Luke Skywalker/Din Djarin

A/N: Read the full fic on Ao3 here

Chapter 3

The Mandalorian grunts in shock as Grogu retracts his hands from under the helmet and promptly collapses on top of him.

After a beat of silence, Luke watches as Mando slowly rises from the table, cradling Grogu in his arms. The Mandalorian turns to Luke as if to question if he knew what happened. Mando most likely only saw confusion on Luke’s face since it took him a second to realize that he should probably close his gaping mouth.

Just then, a sudden, soaring pain rips through Luke. He keels over and slumps down into the chair closest to him. The adrenaline must have worn off. Great.

Mando reacts quickly to Luke’s pain by throwing his legs over the side of the table and setting the sleeping Grogu down carefully on the surface. He grabs the Bacta spray that Luke left on the table and swiftly kneels in front of the Jedi.

“I’m... fine,” Luke grunts out, reaching his hand out to stop the Mandalorian “I can... I can do… it.”

He slumps back into the chair again as a wave of chills wash over him.

“Mmhm,” the Mandalorian grunts in return. “Take off your shirt.”

Luke just stares at the Mandalorian, dumbfounded.

“Take it off, or I will.”

Feeling his cheeks warm, Luke looks down at his black robes to find a large hole that has been cut into the left side of his shirt. Carefully, Luke untucks his shirt and pulls one hand out of the sleeve to roll the shirt up to his neck. After its tucked under his chin, Luke looks back down at his side to find an angry red cut about the size of a Tooka-cat’s leg laying against the crisscrossing patches of white scars that cover the rest of his body. Luke hisses as the kneeling Mandalorian places a gloved hand on his side and leans his head in to take a loser look at the wound.

“Looks like you cut yourself on some glass,” the Mandalorian observes. “It’s pretty deep. I’m going to need to get the shards out before I can heal you. Do you have a cauterizer?”

“In… the Medkit,” Luke huffs as he points in the direction of the crates.

Mando gets up smoothly to retrieve the cauterizer. On his way from the Medkit, he sees Grogu still lying on the table and quickly scoops him up to deposit him in his hammock before kneeling again next to Luke, cauterizer in hand.

Placing his hand back on Luke’s side, the Mandalorian starts his work on getting the tiny pieces of glass out of his cut.

Luke’s fingernails dig into his palms as he braces himself against the pain coming from his side. To distract himself, Luke decides to unload a couple of the questions that have been circling in his head since he first saw the Slave I.

“Why were you in the Slave I alone? Where’s Boba Fett?”

“Fett’s dead.”

That catches Luke off guard.

“F-Fett’s… what? He’s…” Luke splutters as he takes in this new information.

He jumps a little as the Mandalorian zaps at his wound. Mando looks up from Luke’s side to make eye contact with him through the helmet.

“Fett’s dead. He died protecting me.” Mando’s voice is neutral, completely devoid of emotion.

This confuses Luke. Surely the two were friends, right? Why else would the Mandalorian be on his ship? Luke looks straight into the Mandalorian’s visor, trying to gauge his emotions before Mando averts his attention back to the task at hand.

Luke grimaces again at the pain, this time shooting out a hand to steady himself on the Mandalorian’s pauldron. If Mando minds, he doesn’t say anything.

“What happened?” Luke asks softly.

The Mandalorian is quiet for a few seconds and just as Luke thinks that he’s not going to respond, Luke hears a shaky inhale coming from the modulator.

“We were on Mandalore. Fett and I had just gotten back from a mission regarding some business on Tatooine. We were rooting out an imperial refuge that was hoarding Mandalorian artifacts. When we got back to Mandalore, I went to discuss the mission with my adviser, Bo Katan, but we were ambushed by a group of her clansmen. We fought as hard as we could, but Fett didn’t make it out.”

Luke flinches again as the Mandalorian continues his work. He tries to take in what Mando just said, but it seems that with every question the Mandalorian answers, more appear in their wake. Questions like: Who is Bo Katan? Why does Mando have an adviser? How did Boba Fett die? Luke grits his teeth and waits a beat before asking: “How did you get out?”

Mando stops zapping Luke’s wound and takes another close look at it before continuing with the cauterizer.

“She let me go. Bo Katan. Fett and I were almost to the ship when one of the clansmen shot him point blank. Dumb Keck jumped in front of me. Bo Katan came in after me. She told me that there had been an uprising and that they were after the darksaber. She told me to run and gave me the coordinates to Grogu’s location. Wasn’t long until I realized the ship was compromised. It was all I could do to limp here from Mandalore”

Luke takes in this new information. Trying to take his mind off the pain in his side.

“Why did she let you go?” he asks.

The Mandalorian shakes his head as he leans his head toward Luke’s wound to get a better look.

Luke takes the hint and changes the subject.

“What’s the darksaber?”

“It’s a laser sword that was wielded by a Mandalorian years ago and has been passed through the hands of many rulers of Mandalore.”

That gets Luke’s attention. Darksaber? Like a lightsaber… but dark?

“And you have this saber in your possession meaning that you…” Luke trails off, putting the pieces together.

The Mandalorian turns off the cauterizer and sets it on the ground next to him. He scoops up the Bacta spray and points it at Luke’s wound before spraying it carefully up and down the cut. Luke squeezes his hand that still rests on the Mandalorian’s pauldron, grimacing at the chilliness of the Bacta.

“That should heal in a few minutes.”

Mando gets up from his knee and crosses his arms as he leans against Luke’s table. The table looks miniscule in comparison. Luke gulps thickly and murmurs a ‘thank you’ to the Mandalorian before moving his arm to slip it back into his shirt sleeve.

“So… you’re the ruler of Mandalore.”

The Mandalorian nods once.

Luke can feel the questions buzzing around his head like a bunch of flies on a piece of trash. His eyes look past the Mandalorian and land on the tiny brown bundle sleeping behind him.

“Did you know that he could do that?” wonders Luke.

The Mandalorian follows Luke’s gaze to the sleeping child and sighs through his modulator. Mando uncrosses his arms and strides over to Grogu’s crib to gently rock the hammock.

“I think you better get some rest. We’ll talk more in the morning,” he says.

Luke doesn’t feel tired, but he knows the Mandalorian is right.

“But where will you sleep? I wasn’t exactly expecting guests,” says Luke, a slight squeak coming into his voice at the realization of just how unprepared he is for the Mandalorian to sleep in the hut.

“I’ll just sleep outside. You got a fire pit?”

Luke nods.

“That’ll do. Goodnight, Jedi.” Mando says as he makes his way towards the entrance of the hut.

“Luke.” He says, “You can call me Luke.”

The Mandalorian pauses, hand on the curtain that covers the opening of the hut.

“Goodnight, Luke.”

“Goodnight, Mando.”

The Mandalorian nods and disappears out the entrance to the hut. Luke gets up slowly from his chair, his mind still racing from the events of the night. Luke limps slowly over to his shabby bed and lays on top of the covers. He glances over again at Grogu. His questions were still circling around his head, but they were just going to have to wait until morning.

The next morning, Luke wakes up feeling way more refreshed than he should. It’s probably the damn Bacta spray.

At that thought, Luke pulls his shirt up to feel where his wound is. Or more accurately, where his wound <was>. His fingers brush the area to find the wound has healed perfectly.

Luke sighs softly and looks around the room. He sits up straight as his eyes land on Grogu’s empty hammock. Just as he’s about to panic, there’s a rustling at the door as the Mandalorian moves the curtain to the side to step into the hut, brown bundle in hand. He offers a nod in greeting as he moves to set Grogu down in his favorite chair.

Luke watches as Mando reaches into one of the pouches of his utility belt and pulls out a silver ball and sets it in front of Grogu. The child takes it and coos happily as his father rubs his head lovingly.

Luke’s heart jumps into his throat as he averts his gaze. The events from the night before come flooding back to him. The ship crash, the Mandalorian, the rescue, the child; all of it. Luke remembers the Mandalorian’s gloved hands on his side, and feels his stomach flutter at the thought.

It feels strange to have the Mandalorian here. Luke thought that maybe he would see the Mandalorian again, if only for him to visit his son, but Luke never thought that he’d be in a situation like this one.

He looks back up at the Mandalorian, now sitting across from Grogu.

“How does your head feel?” Luke asks, swinging his legs over the side of his bed.

Mando turns his helmet towards his son.

“It feels like nothing ever happened.”

Luke follows his gaze to Grogu and once again, the question about his student’s power comes into his mind. Thinking back on it from last night, Luke realizes that the Mandalorian wasn’t surprised about Grogu’s power.

“He’s done that before hasn’t he? Healed someone.”

The Mandalorian nods slowly.

“I’ve only seen him do it one other time. I don’t know how it works. I was hoping you could tell me.”

Luke shakes his head.

“I have never seen something with that kind of power, nor have I even heard of it. I’m afraid I am terribly underequipped with Jedi teachings to know the full extent of the Jedi ways.”

The Mandalorian looks up at that.

“I thought you were a Jedi. Do you not have the same powers?”

Luke shakes his head again.

“I never even knew Force healing was possible.”

“Force… healing?” asks the Mandalorian.

“Yes. Somehow Grogu can use the Force to heal people.”

“How is that possible?”

“As I said, there is a lot about this subject that I don’t know. I would need Jedi texts, teachings of when there was a Jedi Order.”

The Mandalorian nods as he continues to look at Luke, his gaze slipping down to where his wound used to rest.

“How’s your side?”

“Good as new, thanks to you,” says Luke, a small smile coming to his face.

“The least I could do after you saved my life.”

That makes Luke pause, his easy smile faltering for a second.

“It was nothing,” he says, looking shyly at the Mandalorian.

The two men stare at each other for a long beat of silence before Luke breaks eye contact with Mando’s helmet and crosses the short distance to the conservator. He knows that there’s nothing in it, but he opens the door and looks inside, nonetheless.

“We don’t have much in terms of food, but can I offer you a nutrient bar?”

The Mandalorian sits back in his chair and crosses his arms.

“I had something earlier. Guess there isn’t much fresh produce on Yavin-4?”

Luke closes the door to the conservator and grabs a nutrient bar from the storage container before turning back to the Mandalorian.

“There’s not much of anything left on Yavin-4. Not ever since the end of the war and the Rebellion vacated the planet. I’ve found a few scraps here and there that are left, but I haven’t had time to search much further.”

Luke leans against the counter and takes a big first bite out of his nutrient bar.

“I’m thinking about going back to the crash site today, see what I can salvage,” the Mandalorian says, turning back to watch Grogu as he makes his silver ball float just above his face.

“I’ll go with you,” Luke says, moving to grab some cookies from the storage container.

Mando nods as Luke sets the cookies down in front of Grogu.

“Shouldn’t he eat some real food before dessert?” asks the Mandalorian.

Luke sighs, looking slightly embarrassed.

“Well, if you can convince him to eat something that isn’t cookies or fresh meat, be my guest.”

Mando sighs but doesn’t do anything to stop Grogu from crunching on the little snacks.

“I’ll get him some meat, if I can find something to hunt with,” the Mandalorian says, “I need to get to the ship to find my weapons.”

Luke nods.

“We’ll leave after lunch then.”

#dinluke #luke/din #dindjarin #Luke Skywalker #luke skywalker and din djarin #star wars #fanfic

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feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years

Text

chapter ten: dave, frank, and cliff

Cliff guided her by the hand into the tiny club: once again, it was early enough that they had plenty of time to congregate on the side of the room, alone, and out of earshot of the others. Sam held onto the yellow tulip he had given her with two fingers and she brought the petals to her nose for a whiff of that fresh smell.

“I didn't know if you wanted a bouquet again,” he confessed with a shrug.

“It's okay,” she told him as she held the flower close to her chest. “Sometimes one is good.” She took another whiff from those smooth yellow petals, as smooth as a tapestry of silk.

“Do you wanna dance again later tonight?” she asked him.

“Yes, please,” he replied; he took his hat off and ran his fingers through his smooth dark hair. “We did a square dance last time—let's do a little bit of slow ballroom dancing, too.”

He then wagged his finger at her.

“I have something else to give you,” he said, and he ducked past her to the bar at the far side of the room. She watched him with her hands still up to her chest so she could smell the tulip some more. He strode around Lars, who had taken his seat at the bar with a shot of vodka, and he ducked out of sight for a moment. She could only see part of his back; he rose up and stuck his hand behind his back before he returned to her.

“What'chu got for me?” she asked him once he came within earshot.

“Close your eyes and stick out your arm,” he told her. She did just that with her left arm and she felt something brush against her skin.

“Okay,” he said. She opened her eyes and she spotted a bracelet on her wrist made of braided strips of black leather and silver rings: she took a second look to find small sparkling rhinestones embedded within the braids. It was fastened together with a big round fancy silver button about the size of a nickel.

“This is something I found in the book shop,” he explained, “it was tucked between that copy of Siddhartha we found as well as a copy of Frankenstein. I just thought it was something you'd like.”

“I do!” she declared as she put one arm around him and held him close to her. She rested the side of her head against his chest. She closed her eyes and took in the soft sound of his heartbeat underneath his denim button up shirt. Sam kept the tulip near to her nose still.

Something fell over on the other side of the room and then a bunch of paper fell onto the floor. Sam opened her eyes but she kept her head pressed to his chest.

Dan shuffled through a bunch of paper on the floor: he had already slung his guitar over his shoulder, and he swung it upon his back so he could look for something. Sam lifted her gaze to the other side of the stage, where someone had moved the couch from backstage and put it up against the wall.

Dan picked up some paper and took something off the floor. He stood back up and strode over to the couch: he almost tripped over the cables on the side of the stage but he caught himself, albeit without unplugging anything. Scott skidded into the room right then.

“Hey!” he declared. Dan staggered forward and plopped down on the couch: the whole entire time, he never let go of his guitar. Indeed, once he took his seat on the cushions, he brought it forward and rested it upon his lap. He looked up at Scott as if nothing happened.

“What's all the hubbub, bub?” Scott asked him.

“Couldn't find my tuner,” he quipped as he picked up a little black box from the cushion next to him.

“Sure that's yours and not Alex and Eric's?”

“It's all of ours,” Dan pointed out, “yours, too.”

Sam looked up at Cliff, who gazed down at her: the light over their heads shone down on him so it looked as though a halo surrounded his head.

“Wanna take a walk?” he suggested. “It's going to be a long time before Legacy take to the stage again.”

“Yeah, let's,” she said. He doubled back to the bar to fetch his hat and to tell Lars where they were going. Once Cliff ran his finger across the wide brim of his hat, Sam put her sunglasses back on before they headed back outside. He held the door open for her and she slung the strap of her purse over her shoulder.

He hurried up next to her so they walked side by side on the narrow sidewalk.

The sun hung strong and high over the city in the vast clear blue sky. Up ahead of them, the street bustled with life, and yet they rounded the corner towards where Joey's car was parked. Joey himself had gone in through the back door; the two of them strode at a brisk pace past the puddle of barf in the storm drain. Sam thought about Alex, who had ducked out of there and into the shadows around the club, and she wondered if he was alright somewhere in there.

She turned her attention to the block ahead of them once they had cleared the piece of sidewalk and slowed to a stroll. A patch of green grass and a line of trees stood across the corner up ahead. The very sight of the green was enough for Sam to bring the tulip up to her nose again. She looked down at the bracelet Cliff had given her and a part of her felt as though he was spoiling her. Spoiling her even with what he had.

“Is that who I think it is?” he said out of the blue.

“Who?” she asked him. Cliff pointed up ahead and there was a man seated on the curb in front of the grass. He looked back at her with a twinkle in his eye.

“Come along,” he coaxed her. His long legs stretched enough that Sam fell behind him to the end of the sidewalk; however, he awaited her at the corner, and they crossed the little side street together. Once they came closer to him, Sam made out the sight of the helmet of bright orange curls upon his head: they sprawled down over his shoulders and halfway down his back. Despite it being a nice day, he wore a faded black leather jacket over ragged faded denim jeans with large gaping holes in the knees. A pair of ragged gloves hung out of his pocket.

“Dave!” Cliff called out once they reached the corner. The man lifted his head and frowned at first, but then he showed them a smile once they came closer to him. He was a skinny, scrawny man who looked as though he was awaiting a ride somewhere.

“Hey, Cliff,” he replied back to him in a broken voice; Sam picked up the smell of cigarettes on him as well as fried beans. “Wasn't expecting to see you here.”

“I'm seein' Anthrax and Legacy tonight with her,” Cliff explained. “This is my date, Samantha.”

“Or Sam as I go by,” she said as she lifted her sunglasses off of her face for a better look at him.

“Sam, this is my friend Dave Mustaine,” Cliff introduced her. He gazed up at her from the gutter: the sunlight shone about his crown of bright orange.

“You're from California,” he remarked at a fast clip.

“Yeah.” She paused for a few seconds. “How'd you know?”

“You're too friendly,” he said as he brought a hand over his brow to protect his eyes from the sun. “You're also lacking that high New York energy, too.”

“Everything is just a hustle and bustle around here,” she added.

“Right! And you're too laid back, too.” He gestured up at Cliff. “He and I used to be in Metallica together.”

She then gasped.

“Oh, so you're Dave!” she declared.

“The infamous Dave,” he corrected her.

“Well, what're you doin' here?” Cliff asked him.

“I'm homeless now, dude,” Dave replied, even with the nonchalant look on his face. “Been homeless, too, even after Megadeth doing a bit of touring for our first record. Right now, I'm just hanging out here in the Big Apple because of the whole thing with studio time. It's the whole waiting game and everything.”

“Oh, man, I'm really sorry to hear that,” Cliff confessed.

“Yeah, I hope I can get back to L.A to do the new album by the year's end. Even thought I've been sleeping on a girl's old couch, and biding my time, being here in New York has kind of given me a different perspective of everything.”

“That's—kind of why I moved out here,” Sam told him at a deliberate pace.

“Oh, yeah?” Dave showed her a little smile.

“Yeah. I came here because I just wanted to be here as a change of pace. I haven't had as many problems, though.”

“That's smart,” he declared. He then cleared his throat and stood to his feet. Much like Cliff, he towered over her, this long and lanky redheaded man wrapped in rags that barely clung onto his emaciated body.

“You know I only started Megadeth just to spite James and Lars, right?”

“He really did, too,” Cliff filled in for him. “I had nothing to do with it so—if you wanna know more about that.”

“But Cliff and I are still good friends, though,” Dave continued.

“Don't get mad, get even, I guess?” Sam chuckled.

“Yes, YES!” Dave shot out a hand to her for a high five, and she did it with her pinky finger given her hands were full with the tulip and her sunglasses.

“Well, at least you've got a couch to sleep on,” Cliff pointed out.

“Yeah, but I think she might kill me, though,” Dave confessed.

“Why?” Sam chuckled at that.

“I like another girl,” he said, still nonchalant. “I might have to break up with Ellen so I can go with Corinne.”

“Do what you gotta do, that's what I say, man,” Cliff encouraged him.

“I hope she can get me out to California because I wrote a couple of songs already for the new album. I need to be back out West soon here because—you know—”

“It'll save you,” Sam finished for him.

“It'll save me and also my bassist,” he pointed out. “He and I are both struggling right now.” Dave nodded at the flower and the bracelet.

“Did he give you those?” he asked her.

“Yes, he did.”

“I found the bracelet,” Cliff explained, “the tulip I picked on my way over here. Even with our doing better than—we were—I still think less is more.”

“One of you kids have the time right now?” Dave asked them.

“It's around lunchtime,” Sam replied. “That's all we know at the moment.”

“I might poke my head into the show tonight,” he told her with a raise of his eyebrow. “I also ask 'cause I haven't eaten all day, either. I'm also dying of thirst right now.”

“We can go back and get you a drink of water,” Sam suggested.

“As long as James and Lars don't see me,” he told her with a wave of his hand.

“Yeah, he's, uh—” Cliff cleared his throat. “—kind of a loaded subject with the two of them especially. At least, that's all I know. That's as far as I know.”

“Cliff only has hearsay,” Dave pointed out.

“Well, let's—get you something, though,” Sam insisted as she put her sunglasses back on, and Dave followed suit with his own. She started back down the sidewalk and even over the noise of the street, she could hear him tell Cliff, “I like this girl.”

She brought the tulip up to her nose once she reached the corner once again. The two young men stood on either side of her for a moment, and she led the way across the pavement, back to L'Amour.

“She came here with Joey,” Cliff told Dave at one point.

“Joey from Anthrax?” he said.

“Yeah. He's another one who's been sleeping on her couch, too, oddly enough.”

“We're just friends, though,” Sam pointed out with a quick turn around to face them. “I promise.”

“I hope you stay just friends,” Dave stifled a laugh.

“I'm not gonna kill him,” she scoffed. “If he finds someone at some point, I'll be happy for him.”

She returned to a straight position and continued on to the corner of the club. Frank and Scott congregated outside of the side door: the sun shone down upon the dark crowns of their heads such that it looked as though they wore little golden crowns.

“Oh, hey, Dave,” Scott greeted him, to which Dave brought a finger to his lips. “Oh, right, James and Lars,” he followed along. “And yeah, they're here right now.”

“Anyway, what brings you here?” Frank asked him as he shielded his eyes from the bright sun.

“I'm just dyin' of thirst right now,” Dave told him.

“Well, what brings you to New York?” Frank clarified.

“I'm staying with a girl until I can get my ass out to California to record a record,” Dave briskly said, the first time he showed any bit of emotion right in front of Sam. “I just want a drink of water for the time being, though.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah,” Frank replied with a nervous nod of his head. He ducked back inside of the club; meanwhile, Scott remained there on the sidewalk with his hands tucked into his jeans pockets.

“Quite the interesting little amalgamation we got here,” Dave remarked.

“Yeah, I'll say,” Scott added as he raised his thick dark eyebrows. “Buncha starving artists here.”

“In Sam's case, quite literally,” Cliff chimed in.

“I like artists,” Dave stated as he stuffed the gloves further into his jacket pocket. “You guys work harder than we do. At least, that's what I think, anyway.”

“Yeah, but you guys make inanimate objects make noises, though,” Sam pointed out.

“You make stuff out of nothing,” he insisted. A gust of wind made its way through the skyscrapers and his bright orange curls billowed over his head and shoulders.

Frank almost stumbled out of the club right then with a small clean glass of water in one hand. He gave it to Dave, who pushed his hair back with his free hand and looked on at him with a blank look on his face.

“Thank you—and don't sweat it, Frank,” he declared. Cliff then turned to Sam, again with a twinkle in his eye.

“Do you want anything?” he offered her.

“Not really, no,” she said as she adjusted the bracelet and shifted her weight right in her spot on the sidewalk. Dave meanwhile, had downed the whole drink of water in four large gulps.

“Want some more?” Frank offered him.

“Please. And I hope I can hang out around here without James and Lars seeing me.”

“We'll sneak you into the shadows if we've gotta,” Scott promised him.

Cliff then gestured for Sam to follow him away from there.

“Where you guys going?” Dave called after them.

“We're gonna take a walk,” Cliff replied. “Won't be long.”

He was quick to walk away from the spot on the sidewalk and he rested a single hand on Sam's shoulder as well. They strode away from the doorway and made their way towards the alleyway up ahead.

“I needed to get you away from there,” Cliff explained to her once they were far out of earshot. “Like I said, it's only hearsay to me. So I don't like how my brothers are fighting with each other.”

“That's—completely understandable,” Sam replied, slightly out of breath. “It's only hearsay with you? Really?”

“Yeah, I had no say in firing Dave,” he told her once they reached the street corner. “I'm still very good friends with him but it feels like I have to walk on eggshells most of the time when it comes to him, though. I can't really talk to anyone about it.”

“Have you tried to?” she asked him as they came to a stop. “The whole thing made me nervous.”

“Yeah, but every time I do, something always intervenes, though.”

“I kinda feel bad for Dave, too,” she confessed. “But he seems a little bit blunt, though.”

“That's just how he is,” Cliff explained. “And I would be, too, if I was thrown out like that and not given another chance to change my ways.”

“Was he really that bad when he got drunk?”

“Oh, yeah. It got fucking crazy at times. He got violent after he kicked back a few bottles. I remember one time he got drunk and he punched a big hole in the wall of the studio. The three of us get giggly and goofy when we've had a few. It was like oil and water. I wanted to give him another chance, and I still do, too, as much as I like Kirk and everything.”

“But you had no say in it, though,” she said.

“None at all. James just told me one morning, 'we made Dave go back home to L.A. and we're getting a new guitarist.'” She thought about Joey and the fact that he let himself drink a supple amount. She hoped that nothing would happen between him and Anthrax.

She peered around the block before them.

“By the way, did you see where Joey went off to?” she asked him.

“I didn't, no,” he confessed. “Why's that?”

“Well, 'cause he threw up when he and I got here,” she answered with a shrug of her shoulders.

“I hope they don't go through what happened to us,” Cliff confessed.

“I hope they don't, either,” she echoed.

“I'll be pissed if they do,” he added.

“I can see Joey and Dave getting together in a single act together,” she suggested. “That is, if it happens and Megadeth lose their hold.”

“They can call it 'Fired',” he laughed, and they crossed the street side by side to the opposite corner. Up ahead stood a stretch of more buildings as well as an entrance to the subway. He then turned his head to her.

“I have an idea,” he told her, and he took her by the hand. They hurried to the staircase in between the wrought iron fence. Unlike the other subway stations, this one smelled as though it had just been cleaned.

They reached the bottom of the staircase and the train stood at the platform.

“You wanna get on the train?” she laughed at him.

“No,” he said, and he guided her to a short corridor off to the right. On the right side of the hallway stood a broom closet.

“Right in here,” he coaxed her with a gesture to the door.

“What's in here?” she asked him.

“I wanna get close to you,” he said as he turned around to face her. “Like—much closer to you. Every kiss to you is one step closer to peeling it back.”

“You,” she sputtered, “wanna do that. In broad daylight.”

“We're not exactly in broad daylight,” he pointed out, “we'll be in a shadow. We'll be in a closet.”

“We're still in broad daylight!” she insisted. “Out in public!”

“Tell you what—I'll only let you touch me,” he said as he opened the closet door: there was barely room for the two of them in there. A metal rack filled up the entire back of the closet and a large yellow bucket and a mop took up an entire corner of the spot.

“I dunno, Cliff,” she admitted with a shrug and a little twirl of the tulip; and she thought about what she had told Joey before with her wishing to draw him.

“I just wanna be closer to you,” he confessed in a near whisper. “I don't wanna be like—weird or anything.”

“Oh, no, it's just—it's not very romantic.”

“We can make it romantic,” he pointed out. He reached for the tulip in her hands and he nestled it on the shelf of the rack, to which she chuckled at that.

“What do you have in your purse?”

“Uh, let's see...” She opened her purse and she spotted that photo of Frank and Charlie as children nestled on the side, right next to her wallet. Next to that was a little packet of spearmint gum.

“Here's something to make it smell better,” she said as she handed him the pack. He took a whiff and nodded.

“Oh, yeah.” He set it on the shelf and then returned to her. She looked past him and spotted a tall box that held an air conditioner in it at one point. He took his seat there and she squeezed in after him.

“Tight fit,” he said as she shut the door behind her: a small crack in between the door and the frame gave her just enough light to see what she was doing.

“Come closer to me,” she whispered.

“Only if you come closer to me,” he begged her. He kept himself seated on the box and she leaned in to him.

“So, do you want it below the belt, or—”

“Yeah, please,” he whispered to her as he opened his legs for her. “Nothin' fancy. But something to start us off with.”

In the dim light, she unfastened the button on his jeans and she reached down the front. The size of it. Even when inside of his jeans, her finger tips caressed over his silken skin. It felt like a big serpent, right inside of his pants.

“Wow,” she breathed.

“Yeah—I guess you could say I'm hung,” he said to her in a near whisper. “It does feel good, I'll say that. Those little fingers on me.”

“How 'bout my thumb?” she asked him as she stroked him with the pad of her thumb. He gasped at the feeling.

“Yes,” his voice broke. “God, Sam—you're a natural. With one hand no less!”

She knelt closer to him: the smell of the mint gum was faint and distant in comparison to the smell of his denim and his soft cologne, but she wanted to do it.

“I think I could do it with two,” she declared as she kept her voice down. In the dim light, she could see his Cheshire cat grin and the twinkle in his eye.

“If we were—in a bigger room,” he grunted, “like—your place.”

“Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't ya?” she teased him.

“I could give you sump'n to return the favor, too,” he retorted. He bowed his head and shuffled his feet at the feeling of her thumb and her two fingers on him. He then gaped at her.

“You okay?” she asked him, and he let out a soft groan.

“That's the spot,” he declared. “That's—the spot—and the best feeling.”

Sam was quick to take her hand out and he giggled at her.

“What?” she asked him with a smile on her face.

“I'm gonna have to change my panties now,” he said, and he couldn't resist the laughter.

“Your big boy panties,” she teased him. She stood to her feet and picked the gum and the tulip from the shelf. She put the gum back into her purse and she reached for Cliff's hand. He stood to his feet and adjusted the brim of his hat. Her breasts brushed against his stomach and he even had to bow his head from the ceiling.

“How do we get outta here?” he asked her as he held onto the brim of his hat with two fingers.

“You go first,” she told him.

“Oh, no, ladies first,” he insisted. She let out a sigh, rolled her eyes, and then giggled at him. She opened the closet door with her free hand and she stumbled out of there; he followed her and he almost dropped his hat on the clean tile floor. He caught it and put it back onto his head as the door swung closed behind him in one fell swoop. He then crossed his legs.

“Tell you what,” he started with a raise of his finger. “I'll run to the men's room and wash up—you go back to L'Amour and wait for me.”

“You sure?” she asked him as she twirled the tulip in her fingers: her hand was dry as a bone even though she made him come in his jeans.

“Positive. Go hang out with the gang and I'll catch up with you.” Cliff leaned into her neck and gave her a little kiss. The bristle over his lip brushed against her skin such that it tickled, and it brought a giggle out of her. He kept his legs together as he passed her and headed over to the men's room. Sam watched him go and then, once he was out of sight, she fetched up a dreamy sigh. But without another moment's hesitation, she surfaced from the subway and made her way back to the club.

Aurora, Zelda, and Marla showed up within the next hour, but she had no idea where Dave had disappeared to; Marla had put on a knit cap over her hair to hide it all away from onlookers. She also noticed that Cliff still hadn't showed up by the time the audience began gathering in front of them. A much bigger crowd that time.

The four girls stood at the back of the room and they watched Alex solo once again on that song “Alone in the Dark”. He stood still and kept the guitar pressed to his little tummy the whole entire time. Marla and Aurora both had stars in their eyes at the sight of him, but even though Sam kept her eye on him, she couldn't stop thinking about Cliff and Dave. Neither of them had arrived at the club still; she couldn't stop thinking about James and Lars, and the fact Scott and Frank felt like a pair of lynchpins. So much had happened without her looking, and there was so much that she still needed to know.

Meanwhile, Zetro did more straight up singing rather than that usual high shriek that caught everyone's attention. Legacy were tight and powerful on that second night, and Sam had hope for them. When Anthrax showed to the stage, she recalled what Charlie had said about Legacy and that there was another band called that. She wondered how that would work out as Joey stood in the middle of the stage with his head bowed over the head of the microphone.

His voice was more broken and he had a difficult time catching his breath. Indeed, they cut their set short by two songs because he couldn't hardly keep up with the other four guys behind him. Such a big crowd in front of them and yet he couldn't do it; everyone filed out of there as disappointed as Sam expected them to be.

“He didn't look too good,” she overheard Zelda say to Marla, who shook her head.

“I'm gonna go see if he's okay,” Sam told them as she adjusted the strap of her purse and tucked Cliff's tulip into her purse for safe keeping. “I did ride with him down here after all.”

“Okay—I will, too,” Marla said as she tugged down on her cap, and Sam strode across the floor to the backstage area.

“You wanna get something to eat?” Aurora offered Zelda as they fell out of earshot. Sam stepped over the cables on the floor and she leaned into the backstage area. No one there, and in fact the back door shut as soon as she knew what was happening there. She doubled back to the side doors and made her way to the street.

If nothing, she could take the subway back up to the Bronx, but it was getting late, and she knew she wouldn't return home until well into the night. The very thought of it exhausted her. She turned her head and she recognized Frank's car at the corner: he had rolled down the windows to take in the warm nigth air.

“Frankie!” she shouted as she sprinted down the sidewalk. In the darkness, she saw his silhouette turn in her direction. “Frankie!” He hesitated there to await her.

“Hey!” he called out to her. He leaned over the passenger seat: the orange glow of the street light washed over his handsome face.

“Do you know where Joey went?” she asked him, out of breath.

“Charlie and Marla just took him home,” he replied. “Poor guy had such a bad night.”

“Was he okay?”

“You know, he barfed this morning when you guys got here and then he knocked back another few drinks.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” she groaned and she bowed her head. She lifted her gaze and stared on at Frank in the dim light. “Well—I don't really feel like taking the subway, though.” She adjusted the strap of her purse yet again.

“That's right, you and him rode together here,” he recalled.

“Did they take his car?”

“Yeah, they did.”

“It's getting late, too. You could do it but it kinda sucks, though—it's been a long day, too. Yeah, hop on in. Besides, you and I live in the same building.”

Sam slid into the passenger seat next to him, and she placed her purse on the floor next to her ankle. They made their way up the street and caught the light green.

“It wasn't just Joey who had a bad night, though,” he started. “I don't know what was going on with the amps tonight.”

“You guys sounded good, though,” she pointed out. “Legacy sounded extra strong tonight.”

“Zetro's last night, you know. He told me he wanted to sing tonight, too, which was real cool, if you ask me! But I felt so naked up there. Myself, Scott, and also Danny, plus Eric, Alex, and Greg. Charlie couldn't hardly get the mic on his snare to work. Louie just went 'fuck it' and took it off, but it seemed to work for him, though. We all struggled tonight.”

They fell silent for a long time, that is until they reached the freeway entrance.

“So Cliff kissed you,” he muttered over the roar of the tires on the pavement. Sam gaped at him.

“Wait a minute, how'd you find that out?” she demanded.

“The last time I saw him, he had this twinkle in his eye and he smelled like fresh coffee,” he explained. “So I asked him about it.”

Sam shook her head. And she had been keeping it a secret this whole entire time!

She squinted her eyes and gaped at him. Frank looked back at her with a concerned look on his face.

“What's wrong?” he asked her.

“He told me to keep it a secret,” she explained. “I—I don't even know what to say right now.”

“Wow, what the fuck,” he muttered as he returned his attention to the parkway in front of them. “You should bring it up to him once you get home.”

“Yeah, I'll talk to him tonight,” she vowed to him.

“You should,” Frank replied, “Cliff is my friend but he needs to know that he went behind your back like that. I wouldn't really be okay with that if it were me. Heck, I'm not okay with it not being me. I'll give you the number to Jon and Marsha's house, too. They're staying with them.”

Within thirty minutes, they returned home to their building. Frank bode her good night with a hug and then she made her way back upstairs to her room. She set her purse down on the couch and she took out the tulip. Cliff never showed again and the secret was out. She didn't want to get mad at him, but she couldn't help it.

She darted into the kitchen and set the tulip down on the counter so she could dial the Zazulas' number. It was almost midnight and thus, as she brought the phone to her ear, she wondered if she would wake them.

“Hello?” She recognized his voice.

“Hi, Cliff,” she said in a flat tone.

“Oh, hi.” He hesitated.

“You told Frankie you kissed me?” she blurted out. Silence on his end.

“Uh—”

“Why'd you do that, Cliff?” she demanded and she folded a single arm across her chest.

“Because,” he started.

“Because why?” She could feel her face growing hot from frustration.

“Because I needed to tell someone,” he said. “I needed to tell someone close to me. I was gonna lose it otherwise if I didn't tell someone about it.”

“But you told me to keep it under the wraps, though!” she pointed out.

“Well, yeah.” He never raised his voice. “But I didn't know how I was gonna react to it, though. Believe me, Sam, if I would've, I could've. Both my hands on my brother's ashes.” Sam fumed as she kept the phone up to her ear. He also left her hanging in the club as well. The second night in a row, and he failed to be her date to the shows.

“I'm also sorry for not showing up, either,” he added when she didn't reply to him. “Dave needed a ride back to where he was staying and I needed to change my underwear, too. We had to make some calls and I finally got back to the Zazulas' house for a change, and at that point, the shows had already started...” As he spoke, she eased the expression on her face. Even though she kept her arm crossed over her chest, there was no way she could stay mad at him for this.

“I'm just... I'm sorry, Sam,” he pleaded. “I'm sorry for everything. You can break up with me and tell me to go fuck myself, I'd understand.”

She swallowed, and she kept her gaze fixated on the tulip on the counter next to her. There was also that bouquet on the coffee table in the next room. Those soft smooth bright yellow petals that beckoned a smile out of her.

“No, no,” she told him in a low voice. “It's okay. Things just—happened.”

“That's just all there is to it,” he replied in a near whisper. “Things just happen, and sometimes you need to tell people about it. Otherwise you get what's going on between James, Lars, and Dave at the moment.”

“You were really cute when we got to the closet, too,” she said, and she couldn't resist the smile on her face. “Dolling that little space up.”

“Well, you wanted it to be romantic,” he pointed out with a little chuckle to his voice.

“True. But it was just—it was cute to me.” She snickered at the thought.

“When do Stormtroopers go on tour?”

“About a month. It's only gonna be a handful of dates, but Frankie told me it'll be my first taste of the road life. And it's money for me and Marla especially.”

“Take all your clothes,” he suggested. “All of them. You never know what the place will be like. Also, be prepared to not sleep, either.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” she vowed, and she yawned.

“It's late,” he stated.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Enjoy your sleep while you can, too. Just every minute of it. So—don't stay up another minute later. Also, Sam?”

“Yeah?”

There was silence on his end.

“I love you,” he whispered, and she never moved. Her chest ached a bit: it took her a minute to realize she had been holding her breath that whole time.

“You there?” he asked her.

“Yeah.”

“You alright?” “Yeah.”

He snickered at her.

“I love you, too,” she whispered back at him as she picked up the tulip from the counter. She brought those yellow petals up to her nose: still smelled fresh.

“You have a good night,” he told her in a soft voice.

“Kiss the Zazulas good night for me,” she said, and that brought a laugh out of him, and they hung up at the same time.

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