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phykios · 3 years

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Five Times Percy Jackson Cheated At School (And One Time Someone Cheated Him) [read on ao3]

thank you as always to @darkmagyk for inspo and beta-ing 💙💙💙 and thank you to @arosnowflake for the homer idea!

Percy squints at the paper prompt again, tilting his head, as if the new angle will extract some hidden information. It doesn’t change. The font is the special dyslexia-friendly one used by most departments at NRU, so he isn’t misreading it, either.

Your final will be an 8-10pp (TNR, 12pt, double-spaced) research paper expanding on one of the topics discussed in our class so far, or an alternate idea of your choosing, to be submitted in writing by May 7 with footnotes and bibliography. By 10am on the Wednesday before the Thursday class you will submit online a 750-word essay (word count does not include footnotes) on the research thread you have pursued that week (no written assignments due Week 6 or Week 12).

Percy might hate college.

“Your neck bothering you again?” Annabeth asks, coming up behind him, her hands already on his shoulders. She’s sweaty, dressed in workout clothes, having just come back in from a jog.

“My neck is fine,” he says. “Just preemptively freaking out over my Roman history final.”

He tilts his head back over the top of his chair, staring into the upside down, prettily frowning face of his girlfriend, and it does nothing to improve his mood.

“How bad is it?”

“Eight to ten pages,” Percy says, “not including footnotes.”

“Ouch.”

“And,” he grimaces, “it’s a topic of our choosing.”

Her mouth twists in sympathy. “Sucks.”

“Yep.”

“Anything I can do to help?” She squeezes his shoulders lightly, an open invitation.

He shakes his head, stretching his arms back to grab her waist. “Promise not to break up with me when you catch me crying at 4AM over it.”

“Promise.” And she seals it with a kiss, bending down to reach him. “Dad wants to know if you’re free on the 16th.”

“The 16th?” He wracks his brain. He’s pretty sure it doesn’t conflict with sailing, or Greek Club, or the monthly intra-pantheon relations council meeting that Chiron and Clarisse both guilted him into joining. “Pretty sure. Why?”

“Dinner--Charlotte’s out of town that weekend.”

“Sounds good.”

“Great, I’ll let him know. Now,” and she grins, “are you going to stare at that computer all day, or do you want to come and take a shower with me?”

Percy slams the computer shut.

He doesn’t think about his paper topic for a while after that.

***

To his great dismay, Percy gets to her dad’s house first on the 16th. Drama in writing group 🙄 she texts him as he gets to the door, be there asap.

Great. Alone in the house with his girlfriend’s dad. Taking a deep breath, he knocks on the door.

Not a minute later, Dr. Chase opens it. Last time they went to visit, Percy and Annabeth had ended up waiting outside for almost a quarter of an hour. “Oh, Percy,” he says, fumbling his flight helmet off his head. “Goodness, I thought I’d lost track of time again. Come in, come in.”

“Thanks,” Percy says, stepping inside and shedding his jacket. “Annabeth’s running late, but she said she’d be here soon.”

He frowns, looking so much like Annabeth that it throws Percy for several loops. “Well, that’s alright,” he says. “I’m sure we can entertain ourselves well enough until she gets here.”

“Yeah,” Percy chuckles, uneasy.

Several seconds pass.

“Oh!” starts Dr. Chase. “Right, yes. Come in. Would you like something to drink?”

Spoiler alert: it doesn’t get much better.

A few minutes of staggered conversation later, it becomes eminently clear why they need Annabeth between them. It’s not the awkward small talk that doesn’t go anywhere (“How’s school going for you?” “It’s okay.” “Good, that’s good to hear.”) or the fact that Dr. Chase doesn’t really grasp how to relate to younger kids (“Have you heard of this website called ‘Vine’?”), but more that it’s just painfully obvious that the two of them don’t really know where they stand with each other.

Now, he knows that Frederick Chase doesn’t hate him. Objectively, he’s aware of the fact that, if it weren’t for him, Annabeth never would have reconnected with her father in the first place, and he kind of owes him for that. Also, Percy knows that he’s a pretty chill guy--a little scatterbrained, but chill.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to make a good impression, though. Or that Dr. Chase thinks that Percy is smart enough for his daughter. Because, like, Percy isn’t smart enough for Annabeth--that much is obvious. Dr. Chase was courted by Athena. Percy barely made it out of high school calculus.

“Would you…” Dr. Chase hedges, plucking off his glasses and giving them a quick wipe with his shirtsleeve. “Would you like to see some of my current research?”

“Uh… sure. I’d love to.”

At the very least, hopefully Dr. Chase will talk enough for the both of them, eating up time until Annabeth gets here.

A new spring in his step, Dr. Chase leads Percy to his study, where he’s got a setup worthy of Cabin Six: on his desk is a massive map of the Mediterranean, littered with miniatures of tanks, planes, and ships. Ringing the room are wall-hangings, depicting different types of planes, half of their structure in x-rays like people in an anatomy textbook, sandwiching the giant viking sword which hangs directly behind his chair. Every inch of floor space is occupied with a pile of books, some serving as additional desk space for mugs, notepads, spare toy soldiers, and, in one case, what looks like the leftovers of a handful of celestial bronze spearheads, melted down into shiny, useless nuggets.

“You know I primarily study aviation,” Dr. Chase is saying, tidying up as he walks around the room, “but my colleagues and I are collaborating on an interdisciplinary re-evaluation of the entire North African theatre in World War II. It’s fascinating stuff; until very recently, they used to call it the ‘war without hate,’ given the lack of partisan roundups and, ah, ethnic clashes that you see in Europe--absolute garbage, of course. As if there weren’t civilians caught up in the fighting, too!” He chuckles, pleased at his own joke. Percy forces a laugh out of himself. “Anyway, with my prior experience studying the invasion of Sicily, I was brought on to assist in piecing the timeline together, working backwards from 1943.”

“Cool,” says Percy, filling the natural gap of conversation.

“Extremely! Operation Husky was a terrific endeavor of airborne, amphibious, and land-based combat.”

Percy nods. Amphibious? “Uh-huh.”

“Though, I must admit, I am having a little trouble retracing some of the ships.” Peering over his map, he leans down, fiddling with one of the ships. “You see this one here? The Palmer?”

Stepping up to the desk, Percy crouches down so the little toy ship is at eye level.

“Well, based on official records, the Palmer was supposed to have arrived at the rendezvous point at the same time as all the other ships, but ended up delayed by two days, and I can’t… quite…” He moves the ship again, frowning. “Figure out… why…”

“Where were they sailing through?” Percy asks.

Dr. Chase points to the map. “From Alexandria to Malta.”

“They probably just hit a bad couple of currents,” Percy says, standing up.

Tilting his head, Dr. Chase peers at him. “How do you mean?”

“If you’re going through the Cretan Passage, you’re going to hit all kinds of West-East currents which will push you backwards.” Snatching up a pencil from a nearby book stack, Percy lightly sketches on top of the map, tracing along the North African coast. “There are tons of overlapping currents in this area that push boats around in circles, especially around Sicily. That’s one of the reasons why so many historians figure that Homer was referring to the Strait of Messina when Odysseus goes through Scylla and Charybdis, here.” And he circles the strait, with a confident flourish.

When he pulls back, Dr. Chase is staring at him.

Percy blinks. “Um… sorry I drew on your map.”

“You--I have been trying to figure that out for weeks.”

He coughs, shrugging his shoulders. “Sorry.”

But Dr. Chase just laughs. “You can make it up to me by helping me with these next.” Clearing crumbs off of southern France, he bends over, pencil in hand. “So, say you were trying to get from Marseilles to Tunis…”

Forty-five minutes later, still embroiled in battle recreations of the Mediterranean theatre, they don’t hear Annabeth letting herself in with her key, not even registering her presence until Dr. Chase, grasping for a notebook, spots her leaning against the doorway. “Don’t stop on my account.”

“Oh, Annabeth, dear! I’m sorry,” says Dr. Chase, going over to give her a hug. “We didn’t hear you come in.”

“I can see that,” she says. “What are you guys doing?”

“Percy here has been assisting me with naval movements,” he says, proudly.

Lacing her fingers with his, Annabeth steps over to Percy, studying their battle map. “Really?”

“Oh yes, he’s been phenomenally helpful.”

She kisses his cheek, pleased. “Look at you, Mr. ‘Phenomenally Helpful.’”

“It was pretty fun,” he admits, warm all over.

“I’d bet. Although, I guess this means we should probably order in for dinner…?”

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Dr. Chase smiles. “Yes, I suppose we should. Does pizza sound all right to you two?”

“Let me take care of it,” she says, slipping from Percy’s side. “You guys looked like you were in the middle of something. Extra olives, dad?”

“Don’t forget--”

“And anchovies, Percy, I know.” She rolls her eyes, taking out her phone.

Rather than the three of them move into the kitchen, Annabeth ends up bringing the pizza in with her, because of course she has opinions she’d like to share about the Allies’ naval movements.

“You know, Percy,” says Dr. Chase, “I must say, you have a real knack for this kind of thing. Have you thought about what you might major in yet?”

Ah, the million drachmae question. “Not yet,” he says, fiddling with a pencil. “I figured I’d get through my gen eds first and then see which one I hated the least.”

“I think you should consider majoring in history.”

Percy’s head snaps up. “History?”

“Specifically maritime history, I suppose. Your predisposition to sailing and ocean currents would be a huge asset to your research.”

“But--wouldn’t history have, like, a metric ton of required reading? I’m not really sure that’s my area.” He has a daughter with dyslexia and ADHD; surely he’d understand Percy’s hesitation.

But he just shakes his head. “Graduate programs these days are very favorable towards interdisciplinary methodology, I sincerely doubt you’d have to barricade yourself in the library. And recently there’s been a significant push to make the field more accessible to students with disabilities, including things like digitization, screen reading for people with vision impairments, and even restructuring programs all together so that students no longer have to memorize the Encyclopedia Britannica in order to pass their general exams.”

“That’s really nice of you to say, Dr. Chase,” Percy says, “But history class isn’t like talking over naval movements with you.” He thought back to the paper that had lowkey been haunting his dreams. “Like, in my classical history survey, I can’t just… talk about currents and battle plans. I have to come up with a topic on my own, and then write about that.”

“Surely something involving Roman naval movements would be well within your skill set. You have a second sense about these things,” he chuckles, “clearly.”

Percy glances towards Annabeth, hoping she’ll back him up, but she looks thoughtful. Considering. Like she’s actually thinking about her dad’s proposal. “I can’t just choose something in naval history.”

“Why not?”

“Because… it's too easy?”

If it was anything like his afternoon with Dr. Chase, it might even be fun. And school isn’t supposed to be fun.

He repeats that thought to Annabeth as they drive home. “School isn’t supposed to be fun.”

“No,” Annabeth agrees, “but I don’t know… I like my intro art history class way better than anything we ever did in high school because I actually care about it. Maybe if you write about stuff you’re good at, like my dad suggested, you’ll like it more.”

The idea follows him all the way to bed, where he’s still mulling it over at 2 in the morning. Before he can chicken out, he grabs his phone, shooting off a quick email to his professor with his potential paper topic, then rolls over, eventually falling asleep.

By morning, he has a response.

Sounds good! Looking forward to it.

***

With shaking hands, Percy calls his mom. “Yes?”

“Hey mom.”

“Percy?” He hears her perk up, almost visualizing her sitting up in her chair. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

Mom instincts. They can always tell when something is different. His heart throbs in his chest. “Nothing’s wrong,” he says, smiling stretching across his face. “It’s just--I got my paper back.”

Percy had ended up writing his paper about the Roman navy movements in the Battle of the Aegates in 241 BC. It was probably the most fun he’s ever had on a school assignment, or at least the most fun he’d ever had writing a paper.

“And?” She sounds expectant, hopeful. His mom has always had such faith in him, even with thirteen years of schooling to prove her otherwise.

He looks back at his email, just to make sure he’s reading it right. “I got an A.”

She gasps. He can hear the scrape of the chair as she stands up. “Percy, that’s wonderful!”

“Thank you.”

“An A!”

He smiles into his fist, inordinately pleased. “Thank you.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I am so happy for you!”

“Thanks, mom.”

“I’m so proud of you, Percy.” Her voice is soft now, like twilights on the beach with blue marshmallows. “I know how hard you’ve worked for this. You should be very proud, too.”

“I am.” And he is, weirdly enough. “I just can’t believe it.”

“I can.” His mom must be grinning, her eyes sparkling. “I always knew you could do it.”

“Sally?” He hears in the background, muffled. “Is that Percy?”

“Paul, Percy got an A on his Roman history paper!”

A second voice crowds its way in, equally excited. “An A? That’s great, kiddo! Congratulations.”

Why can’t he stop smiling? “Thanks.”

“I bet that feels pretty good, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

“Well, it is very well-deserved,” says Paul. “That was some great work you did. I could tell how passionate you were about your topic just from your first sentence.”

“Thank you.” Maybe he should be worried about all this praise going to his head, but damn, is it nice. “Listen, I have to go get started on dinner, but I just wanted to give you a call.”

“Of course,” says his mom. “I want to hear from you more, okay? Tell me more good news! Like when are you and Annabeth going to--”

“I’m working on it, okay?” says Percy, smiling even more broadly. “I’ll keep you posted, promise.”

She laughs, tinny and happy. “You’d better. Congratulations again, sweetheart.”

“Thanks mom. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

And he hangs up, puts his phone down on the table, tilts his head back, and sighs, full, happy, a release.

Maybe college won’t be so bad after all.

“You don’t have to do this,” Frank says, hushed. “All you have to do is walk away.”

Five Greek Fire bombs, cloudy yellow, are lined up on the table in front of him, neatly laid out in front of five twenties. From the side, Frank stares him down, surrounded by an army of morbidly curious Romans. Someone turned off the music and turned on the lights a while ago, stopping the party in its tracks, every eye on Percy and his opponent. Figures, his first college party all year and he causes a scene.

Percy grips the edge of the table. “He insulted the Mets,” he says for the millionth time. “I can’t let that shit stand.”

Frank sighs. “Annabeth?” he asks, hoping to stop this nonsense.

Turning to his side, Percy sees his girlfriend, two drinks in, her cheeks lightly flushed, but solid as she stands beside him, supporting him. Her eyes are hard, fierce, the warrior gaze of Athena all but leaping out of her. “Do it,” she says.

William, the sour-faced Roman legacy of Juventus, scowls. “A hundred bucks on the table. Sixty seconds. No throwing them back up.”

“Deal.”

“Frank,” Annabeth calls. “Start the clock.”

He sighs. “You guys are idiots.”

“Frank!”

“Okay, okay.” He holds out his phone, thumb primed, hovering over the screen. “On your marks, in three… two… one…”

He hits zero, and Percy grabs a shot glass. Squeezing his eyes shut, he brings it to his lips, and throws it back.

It’s… not what he expected.

The tequila is awful--no getting around that. Even to Percy’s untrained taste buds, having really only ever had some of Gabe’s sour beer (under duress) and some of the Demeter cabin’s strawberry wine (on his eighteenth birthday, a celebration for actually getting to graduate high school), he can tell it’s cheap, rank, unrefined shit, like he’s drinking straight toilet cleaner. But the garum, the weird Roman condiment that the shot is mixed with, the one that Percy had never heard of before, it’s… it almost tastes like the fish sauce that comes with the pork and rice noodles from the Vietnamese place down the corner of his mom’s apartment, only less… fishy? Yeah. Less fishy.

It’s a weird taste. It’s not bad, by any means, it just--straight up, it just tastes like saltwater. Like the sea.

And, well. Percy can handle the sea.

He looks at William, and grins. “You are so fucked.”

The assembled Romans cheer, spectators at a gladiator show, as Percy knocks back the rest of the Greek Fire bombs, one after another, clearing them all in under thirty seconds. Annabeth swipes up the cash, shrieking as she throws her arms around Percy. William wanders off, red-faced and glaring, as whoever turned the music off before flips it back on, the night, and the party, saved.

Silly Percy. He should have known what was coming next.

Thirty minutes later, he is well and truly wasted.

“You’re, like, really pretty,” he shouts at Annabeth over the loud music.

She snorts, grinning at him. “Thanks.”

“Seriously,” he slurs, tipping forward on his feet. “You could be a model.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Remember when we were fourteen,” he yells, bracing himself against the wall, “and you got kidnapped by that monster?” Slightly soberer but still a little flushed, she bites her lip, nodding. “Well, I followed the rescue party--I told you that, that I snuck out of camp to follow the rescue party? Right?”

“You did.”

He takes a sip of water, running his tongue around the inside of his mouth. Feels goofy as fuck. “We got hijacked by Aphrodite halfway through, and when I saw her, I thought--I thought, ‘Holy shit, she looks a little like Annabeth.’”

Her brows shoot up, smile pulling at her lips. “Really?”

He nods. “Totally! But you’re way, way p--”

Still smiling, she silences him with a kiss, the lingering taste of hard cider on her tongue. “I appreciate it,” she murmurs, grinning, “but you probably shouldn’t say that out loud.”

“Gross.”

From out of nowhere, like he always does, the weasley little shit, Nico di Angelo is suddenly in their space, looking surly and emo as ever, red solo cup in his left hand. “Nico!” Percy crows, grabbing for him and missing. “How’s my favorite cousin?!”

Ducking his wildly swinging limbs, Nico grimaces in the way that Percy has to come to recognize as his attempt at a smile. “Better’n you,” he says, a little wobbly. “What’s up with him?” he directs towards Annabeth.

“Greek Fire bombs. Five.”

“You’re a psychopath.”

“What!” Percy pouts. “He insulted the Mets.”

“Aren’t you s’posed to be, like…” Nico snaps his fingers, words momentarily escaping him. “A--representation… person? For the Greeks?”

Percy waves his hand, hitting the wall. “Fuck that. The Greeks can handle themselves. The Mets are sacred!”

“Are you with anyone?” Annabeth asks, momentarily taking up Percy’s usual role of concerned parent friend while he is drunk off his ass. Theoi, he loves this girl so much.

Nico shakes his head. “No, but Will and I are staying with--”

A thought suddenly blooms in Percy’s tequila-soaked brain. “Nico!” He shouts.

“What?” he hisses, glaring.

Percy pushes himself off of the wall, outstretched arms managing to box Nico in, falling on his shoulders and trapping him. He’s still a short, skinny little shit, the fuck, when are his Big Three genes going to kick in? “I need to talk to you about the thing.”

“The what?”

“The thing! The--the,” then he leans in, scream-whispering over the pounding bassline. “The thing.”

“That doesn’t help.”

“You know, it’s…” Percy licks his lips, language escaping him for a hot second. “Round. Metal. Jewelry thing.”

A beat, then Nico’s eyes widen. “Oh, that thing.”

“Yes, that thing!” Pulling back, he pulls Nico towards him, slinging an arm over his shoulders in a half-headlock. Annabeth watches, bemused, lips pursed as she tries not to smile. “I need to borrow Nico for a sec,” he says, words spilling out of him. “Back soon. Later. Soon.”

Her eyes crinkle, grey sparkling. She’s so fucking pretty. “Drink your water.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Then together, like some three-legged beast, the two boys lurch away deeper into the party, Nico leading them towards the kitchen. “Where’re you taking me?” Percy slurs. “‘M I being kidnapped again?”

“If I’m helping you plan out this stupid proposal,” he grumbles, pouring himself more vodka, “then I need to be less sober.”

***

Some mistakes may have been made.

“Where’s Annabeth?” Percy mumbles, looking back towards the house. The party is still raging, someone’s muffled Spotify playlist making a real racket, the greatest hits of ABBA still bouncing around his skull.

“Simp.” Nico, swaying a little, tries to stand up from his kneeling position, only to fall heavily back down on his knees. “She’s right where you left her.”

Discussing Percy's proposal plan had led to more drinking. More drinking had led to the two of them discussing their shared preference for blondes. (“Malcolm is pretty cute,” Nico admitted, flushing, and Percy almost screamed, “Isn’t he?! Sometimes I think about Annabeth with short hair looking like Malcolm and I almost start crying because she’d be so cute!”) Which then led to even more drinking. Which then led to general bitching about their lives, about Percy's hard-ass classics professor Dr. Bauer who he actually really liked but just pushed him so hard and expected so much of him, and Nico's half-brother Zagreus who was causing some family drama by picking fights with Hades all the time and also hooking up with both Thanatos AND the fury Megaera, which, ew, which then led to Percy inhaling his drink, nearly choking to death on unspecified college punch, Nico laughing at him all the while, as he had the most incredible idea.

"Nico!" He shouted, crushing the red solo cup. "Can you resurrect Homer for me?"

Nico gaped, staring. "What."

"Seriously! I need to ask him something for my paper."

"Percy." Nico gazed at him, all the power of the Ghost King boring into his soul, deep and haunting. Percy stifled a burp. "You're a fucking genius."

Which is how they found themselves around a shallow hole they had dug in the backyard, a large bottle of Pepsi originally intended as a mixer pilfered from the kitchen along with two slices of pepperoni pizza dumped on the grass beside them.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this," he says, uneasy even through his drunken haze.

"It was your idea!"

"I don't have good ideas."

“Fuck you, I’m doing it.” With all the force of a tiny, angry kitten, he snatches up the Pepsi bottle, wrestling with the twist cap for a good ten seconds. “I wanna give that bitch a piece of my mind for making me cry in school.”

Percy looks at him sideways. “Hector killing Patroclus got you, too?”

He snorts. “Fuck no. Achilles didn’t pay his dues to the dead.”

“Seriously?”

The cap pops off, and Nico tips the bottle over, dumping flat, lukewarm soda into the shallow hole. “It’s the ultimate dishonor!”

Freak. Percy would die for the kid.

“Let the dead taste again,” Nico mutters. “Let them rise and take this offering. Let them remember.”

“You’re so weird.”

“Says the guy who’s related to both horses and water.”

“I’m not related to water, I just control it.”

The dirt turns black, dead soil mixed with sticky sugar water. Nico drops in the pizza, and begins to chant, that same ancient Greek that Percy heard in a dream once, talking of death and memories and returning from the grave or whatever. It’s still creepy as shit.

Despite the warm California night, the air thickens with chilly fog. Silence, impenetrable, surrounds them, blocking out the noises of the party. From the earth, blueish, vaguely person-shaped figures begin to form, like thunderous clouds before a storm. “Which one is Homer?” he asks, hushed.

“Shh!” Nico hisses.

Like little wells of gravity, the fog begins to coalesce. On one of them, Percy can almost make out, like, fingers. “Um, Mr. Homer? Sir?”

The figure doesn’t say anything. It lowers its mouth, drinking the soda out of the dirt. When it raises its head, Percy can see it more clearly, curly hair and milky white eyes and a straight nose. It--he?--seems a little more solid than your average run-of-the-mill ghost.

Nico frowns, eyes closed, concentrating. “What’s your name?” he mumbles.

That mouth opens, soundlessly, jaw working on nothing.

“Speak.”

It--there’s a sound, like hissing, only it’s not coming from the mouth, Percy thinks. It sounds like it’s coming from the earth. “Nico?” he asks. “You good?”

The ghost opens its mouth again, moaning, raising its hands. Weakly, unsteadily, it stumbles forward on feeble legs, tripping over the shallow hole in the dirt.

“Nico?” he asks again, a little more forcefully. “What’s going on, dude?”

Nico blinks, slowly, mouth hanging open a little. “Uh.”

The… thing… raises itself up on its hands? He guesses, and knees, crawling its way over towards them.

Now, Percy may be drunk off his ass, but he has seen enough movies to know exactly what the fuck is up.

Moving with a speed he didn’t quite think was possible right about now, he grabs Nico’s wrist, and pulls him up, dragging him along as he lurches towards the house. “Percy…” Nico moans, stumbling over a rock. “I think I fucked up.”

“You think?” Percy wrenches the door open, tossing Nico inside, before following in after, throwing himself against the door.

Nico groans, throwing his arms over his face. “Dio santo, my head.”

“Forget your head,” he says, “did we just raise a Homer zombie?!”

Panting, Nico stares up at him, sprawled on the floor of the house. “Oops.”

Percy thunks his head against the door. He does not have nearly enough mental capacity to deal with this right now.

But, he thinks ruefully, at least it’s just one. Even drunk, he’s pretty sure he can handle one zombie.

Nico’s eyes widen.

Percy stares. “What.”

“I didn’t stop the ritual.”

His stomach goes cold.

Turning around slowly, he pulls aside the little curtain on the window. “What?” Nico asks. “What do you see?”

Percy can’t speak, mouth dry.

Slithering up behind, Nico peers over his shoulder. “That’s… not great.”

“Nico,” Percy says, eyeing the horde which slowly shambles closer, half-decayed bodies in togas bumping into each other, almost identical to the drunk college students inside, as the song changes, once again, to ‘Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight).’ “Please go get Frank and Annabeth.”

The following Monday, an announcement is sent out to the entire campus: Per new department guidelines, students may not utilize the ambassador of Pluto to interview the dead for academic purposes.

Percy attempts to flatten his hair. He readjusts his shirt. He almost wipes his sweaty palms on his pants, before he realizes what he’s doing, and clenches them instead, nails digging into his palms. He turns to Annabeth. “Do I look okay?”

“Ooh, ‘Mapping Funerary Monuments in the Periphery of Imperial Rome.’”

“Annabeth.”

She looks up from her brochure. “Relax, seaweed brain, you look fine. You look better than most people here.”

“That’s because I bring down the average age of presenters by about thirty years,” he hisses, eyes darting about at the milling mass of attendees, all packed into the hotel ballroom.

Dr. Bauer had alternately convinced/pressured/guilttripped him into attending this year’s annual conference for the Society of Classical Studies to talk about the research he’d been doing with her. This year, the conference was held in San Francisco, so at the very least Percy didn’t have to spend five hours stressing about his poster presentation while simultaneously up in the air. But now that he’s here, in the ballroom, surrounded by strangers who know way more about this subject than he does, who are actually smart and probably never nearly flunked out of school or got kicked out or--

“Hey.” Annabeth takes his hand. “I know that look. You deserve to be here just as much as any of them.”

“Do I? I feel like any moment someone is going to come over and throw me out for trespassing.” He vaguely recalls something similar happening to him as a kid after he had ducked into the lobby of a semi-nice hotel to dodge what he had thought, at the time, was just a weird stalker, but had later realized had only had one eye. In any case, the hotel security guard had practically picked him up by the scruff of his neck, tossing him back out into the street.

“That’s just your imposter syndrome talking,” she reassures him. “No one is going to throw you out.”

He sure as shit hopes so. It would be a shame to have done all this work for nothing.

Glancing back at his poster, Percy can’t help but feel… good. Accomplished. Proud. About a school assignment, of all things.

His poster traces the development of the prow from the Greek penteconter, to the Roman liburna, and finally to the Byzantine dromon, looking at artistic depictions in history. Percy had picked the topic himself, spending hours in the library reading, writing, and hand-drawing cross-sections of the ships on the poster board when the images he had gotten from the Cambridge University library had been too small. It had been grueling, frustrating work, but fun, too. And not nearly as much reading as he had feared.

Dr. Chase proofread it for him. Dr. Bauer signed off on it. And Annabeth had taken one look at it, smiled, then kissed his cheek.

That was the best compliment he had gotten.

Though now he’s kind of torn between showing it off and hiding it away before one of these attendees figures out that he doesn’t belong.

He rocks back and forth and his feet, pursing his lips, randomly clicking his tongue. Annabeth nudges him. “Your ADHD is showing.”

That’s when, finally, one of the attendees steps up to his poster. He certainly has the look of a professor, in a black cable knit sweater with grey, curly hair and a receding hairline, thin, rimless glasses perched on his nose. He squints at Percy’s poster, rubbing his chin with one hand. “Interesting,” he murmurs, in a thick German accent. “Very interesting. This is yours?”

“Um.” He glances at Annabeth, who is frowning at the brochure, silently sounding out words that she can’t read. “Yep. All mine.”

“Very interesting.” He leans in closer, tilting his head. “So you agree with Pryor and Jeffreys about the skeleton-first construction, then?”

Percy blinks. Pryor and Jeffreys had written The Age of the Dromon, arguing that the ram, which had been a key feature of Roman liburnians, had gone away in ancient ship construction because of developments in how they built the hull. Right. “Yes,” he says. “The skeleton-first construction is a lot stronger than the, um,” shit, what was the name for this, Leo had only told him about a million times--oh! “Mortise-and-tenon!” He nearly shrieks. “The mortise-and-tenon method. It, um, it wears out a lot more quickly than the frame, so… yeah.” He clears his throat.

He nods. “Very interesting.”

Percy stares. Can this guy say anything else?

“This is very well done, young man.”

Oh. “Thank you,” he says.

“Who are you working with?”

“Um, June Bauer?” He winces at the accidental question.

He frowns. “I’m not familiar with her work. Where does she teach?”

What a loaded question. “Uh… New Rome University.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s--she used to teach at Northwestern, if that helps. Um, retired,” Percy says.

The frown stays, but at least he doesn’t ask any more questions. “Hmm. Well, this is excellent research, nonetheless. I look forward to reading your dissertation.” Then, distracted by something else, he wanders off, chin still attached to his hand.

“Who was that?” Annabeth asks.

Percy shrugs. “Beats me. Also, what’s a dissertation?”

“It’s like a senior thesis, but, like, five hundred pages long.”

Five hundred?! “Fuck me.”

“Maybe later,” Annabeth smirks. “It looks like you’ve got company.”

Sure enough, a smallish group of four people are approaching, led by Dr. Chase, making a beeline straight for them. “Here we are,” Dr. Chase says, gesturing. “This is the project I was telling you about. Percy, would you mind going over your poster for us?”

“No problem, Dr. C,” says Percy, smiling his least-grimace-y smile.

As one, the adults all turn to look at him, faces politely blank, expectant.

Percy swallows. “So,” he begins, “um, this research is about the development of ship construction in the Roman empire…”

He trips up on some of the words, and at one point, he sees Dr. Chase squint in the way that usually means that Percy is speaking too fast, but all in all, he doesn’t totally fall flat on his face. His audience looks engaged, nodding along as Percy moves from point to point, and no one accuses him of being a giant fraud, which is pretty nice.

At one point, Percy turns to the poster to indicate a specific point on his ship diagrams. When he turns back, his audience has suddenly multiplied, four people turning into a whole goddamn crowd. Each person gives him their undivided attention almost unblinking.

His mouth goes dry. “Um…”

Dr. Chase, bless him, saves his ass once again. “Would mind starting again from the beginning, Percy?” he asks, a little bemused himself at the amount of people that had suddenly appeared.

Silence stretches on for a moment, the muffled noise of the rest of the conference like a dull roar in his ear.

Annabeth, behind him, coughs.

“S-sure. No problem.”

Swallowing, he closes his eyes, breathing in through his nose. Why, oh why did he let Dr. Bauer talk him into doing this again?

He pictures the tides of Long Island Sound, gentle and rocking, unhurried and unbothered, tries to match his breathing to them. When he opens his eyes, unfortunately, the crowd hasn’t disappeared. Everyone is still staring at him.

But Annabeth stands next to her dad, flashing him a big smile and two huge thumbs up.

Percy relaxes. He’s got this.

“Okay,” he says. “So, about the middle of the first millennium CE, ship construction went through a couple of major developments…”

This time goes much, much more smoothly. He’s not sure what it is--though it’s probably Annabeth, her face fixed in a gentle smile as she watches him speak. Gods, what did he do in a past life to deserve someone as amazing as his girlfriend?

That’s the only reason he can do this. Hell, that’s the only reason he even thought to do this. If he didn’t have Annabeth there, encouraging him, cheering him on, he never would have had the confidence to put himself out there like this. She’s there to pick him up when he doubts himself, there to listen when he can’t explain himself, there to give him feedback when he needs to practice.

She makes him feel so strong. She makes him feel like he can take on the world--or at the very least, that he can impress a handful of academics.

And they certainly seem impressed with his talk so far.

“Excuse me,” says a nasally, pinched looking older British guy, face lined as though he lived his life in a state of perpetual squinting. “I find your conclusions to be suspect--wouldn’t the frame method be more susceptible to breaking than the mortise-and-tenon?”

Well, most of them, anyway.

Percy shakes his head. “You’d think, but no. If you look at the study by Steffy, you’ll see that the three-finned ram from the Athlit wreck was designed specifically to break the mortise-and-tenon hull by causing the planks to flex, so that they’d dislodge the joinerys right next to them. A blow like that can cause the wood to split right down the middle.” A blow like that had sunk Sherman Yang’s ship when they tested it out on the lake at camp last summer, the naiads practically hurling him out of the water so quickly Percy didn’t even have to dive in to save him.

“How were you able to do these strength tests?” asks another listener, an older woman with a thick Hungarian accent.

“Hands-on battle simulations,” Percy replies, easily. “We took our models and tested them in as accurate a simulation as we could make.”

“And how big were these models?”

Percy holds his hands apart, a vague, entirely inaccurate estimate. “About thirty meters, give or take.”

Her eyes widen. “How on earth did you get your hands on such a large ship?”

Percy freezes. “Uh.”

Oh, shit.

He had forgotten--most people didn’t have dads who could summon shipwrecks from the bottom of the sea, dropping them off at Camp Half-Blood with nothing but a sand dollar and one or two exhausted, pissed off hippocampi who had had to drag them all the way there.

“Um,” he stammers, licking his lips, thinking fast--c’mon, Percy, think! “I…” He swallows, panicking. “I… b… built one.”

In the corner of his eye, Annabeth facepalms.

Simultaneously, every mouth in the crowd drops--in shock, outrage, and even excitement. “You built one?!” the woman yelps.

Oops. “I had help,” Percy says, quickly.

Annabeth adds a second hand to her facepalm.

“Where?” The first man asks, his bushy brows flying above the rim of his glasses.

“At my… summer camp…”

Dr. Chase sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I mean,” Percy chuckles, shrugging his shoulders, trying not to sweat too obviously, “it was either that or lanyards, am I right?”

Dr. Chase, thank Athena, raises his hand, ready to step in. “What Percy means to say, I believe,” he says, attempting to draw their attention, “is that--”

“That’s amazing!” says another woman, probably a grad student attendee based on the fact that she’s wearing jeans. “Do you have pictures?”

Oh this is not good. “Um, not--not on me, but--”

“I do.” Annabeth takes out her phone, holding it up to the person next to her.

Percy blinks. “You do?” He doesn’t remember her taking any pictures.

She shoots him a look, two parts exasperated and one part “shut up and let me handle this,” with just a dash of fondness in the mix. Pointedly, she looks at him, eyebrows raised, indicating that he should continue.

Oh. She’s using Mist. And he needs to keep their attention on him so that they buy it. “Right,” he says, clearing his throat. “Any more questions?”

His audience placated for now, passing around Annabeth’s phone, he manages to finish up his presentation. After fielding a few more questions, people start to peel off, distracted by other posters and presenters in the ballroom. When everyone has finally wandered away, Dr. Chase comes up and pats Percy’s shoulder awkwardly. “Nice work,” he says, and he seems like he means it. “A little touch-and-go there for a while, hm?”

“A little.”

He chuckles. “Still, you should be proud. I don’t know how many undergraduates would be able to handle that kind of pressure.”

“I mean,” Percy says, shrugging a shoulder, “it’s about on par with leading an army. Maybe a little less.” Honestly, maybe even a little more stressful. If a monster had decided to attack the convention center and interrupt his presentation, he probably would have been relieved.

He’d been worried for a moment that he’d undone all those years of work in making Annabeth’s dad like him. And that he’d be charged with some sort of academic fraud, for the whole “I have a boat” thing without proof. Thank the gods for Annabeth, as always.

She’s looking at him now through narrowed eyes. She at least can’t be surprised--that was far from the dumbest thing she’s ever seen him do. At least his “I spent most of my time at magic greek mythology summer camp” covers are normally better than hers. As someone who spent his formative years in the real world, he’s usually pretty good at keeping the demigod thing under wraps.

“Come on,” she says, grabbing his hand. She pulls him off, through the dispersing crowd, lacing their fingers together, sweet and intimate, out of the hall and then down another one, and through a smaller corridor. Bringing them up to a little door, with a shake of her wrist, she pulls out her Estruscan keyring bracelet. About several of the keys have found themselves used in various misadventures, vanishing once their purpose is fulfilled, but her favorite key is still there. And, just like a clever child of Hermes, it can pick just about any lock.

Inside is just an empty room, a little staging area surrounded by tiered desks going up, no more or less remarkable than any of the other conference rooms they’d visited before.

“What--?” His question is cut off by Annabeth’s mouth on his.

Surprising, but definitely not unwelcome.

It's a while before they separate again. “You’re so good at this,” she tells him, unbuttoning his shirt.

He runs his hands along the lines of her flanks. “I’ve had a lot of practice,” he grins. He’d practice kissing her all day long if he could.

She smiles, shaking her head. “No, not this,” though she does lean in for another kiss, pulling at his lower lip with her teeth. “I know you’re good at this.” They break away, Percy pulling her shirt over her head, Annabeth shucking off his. “But history. Presenting.” She runs a finger over his chest, kissing his cheek, headed towards the sensitive spot on his jaw. “Gods, you’re so smart.”

Something about the praise vibrates through his chest. She doesn’t sound surprised, or anything, just--turned on.

“You had all those crusty academics eating out of your hand. Just, so impressed by you, knowing you know way more than they do about naval history. When you were explaining the--” Her compliment is cut off with a moan, as he leans down and starts sucking on her throat. Her blouse has a high neck, so he feels no guilt for using his teeth.

“Watching you today, gods.” Her breath is labored as his fingers play at the waistline of her skirt. “And then thinking of you defending your dissertation.” He bites at her jugular, and she lets out a long, deep moan.

“I don’t know what that means.” Do academics fight each other? Like, with weapons? He’s pretty sure he can take most of the people he met today.

“It means you get to show off how smart you are,” Annabeth says, grasping his shoulders, pulling him in for another kiss. “I was born the day my dad defended his. Gods, it's going to be amazing to watch you go.” She yanks his belt out of his pants, tossing it to the floor.

They miss the panel on recent translation efforts. But Percy can’t say he minds one bit.

And when Annabeth presents him with a positive pregnancy test two months later, Percy definitely knows he made the right decision.

He almost doesn’t realize he’s having a dream-vision at first.

It has been literal years since he’s had a demigod dream. Hell, it’s been a long while since he’s had a dream, period--being a new dad to a one-and-a-half-year-old saps too much of his energy to even think about dreaming. Once Junie is put to bed, when he’s out, he is fucking out, and he does not have the brainpower to spare to manifest any messed up subconscious fears.

Which is why when he blinks open his eyes, taking in the too-bright colors of the Parthenon and the gleaming shine of the bronze statues which are somehow all looking at him--also, you know, how the Parthenon is complete, standing as it did thousands of years ago, and not crumbled into ruins--he knows, immediately, he is being contacted by a god.

And only one god in particular would bring him to Athens.

Without even checking, he heaves himself up off the ground, folding into a kneel. “My lady Athena,” he says, “can I ask for what quest you’ve brought me here?”

“Impertinent as ever, Percy Jackson,” rumbles the goddess, but Percy doesn’t think he can sense any ill will towards him. He hopes, anyway. “Perhaps I have summoned you here for a social visit.”

“Perhaps,” he says, choosing his next words as carefully as possible. “But I assume you have too much to worry about to randomly check up on your daughter’s boyfriend.”

He lifts his head, catching her expression--stoic as always, but maybe with just the barest hint of a smile. “You assume correctly. You have become, contrary to my initial expectations, very wise in the time that I have known you.”

“Thank you.” He knows better than to do anything but accept the compliment for what it is.

“I have observed your work as a scholar in recent years, and I must say that I am surprised, yet pleased, that you have chosen to pursue such a path. I had not thought you to be suited for a world of old men and dusty papers.”

He grits his teeth. Don’t rise to the bait, don’t rise to the bait, don’t rise to the bait--

“I understand, as well, that though you and my daughter have,” and here her careful composition cracks, just the slightest, the tiny lift of her lips falling, “made a child together.”

Percy swallows. He figured, you know, in the abstract, that Athena would know about Junie, but hearing her say it out loud is… well, he’s just glad that Dr. Chase has always liked him. “Yes, my lady.”

“It is customary in your time to marry prior to childbirth, is it not?”

“It is.” Oh, fuck, is she going to smite him for that? “I--that is to say, we, Annabeth and I, we, um, we definitely want to get married, but, Annabeth kind of…”

He trails off. He can’t tell Athena, goddess of war, that his daughter pissed off the queen of heaven! And if he does, he definitely can’t imply that it was because she was being too stubborn!

“I know well of my daughter’s history with my father’s wife,” Athena says, smoothly. “I come to you now with an offer of peace.”

Percy straightens his back. Peace?

Raising one graceful arm, Athena turns, indicating the structure behind her. “Look upon my temple,” she intones. The white marble shines even more powerfully against the blue and red paint, intricate scenes and figures ringing the top of the columns. “In the time of Pericles, it was built to commemorate the victory of Hellas over the armies of Xerxes the Great. It was to be the shining beacon of our world, a triumph of our power and influence over the race of men.”

The race of men might have had something to say about that, he thinks to himself.

“But it was not to be,” Athena says, mournfully. “As our influence waned, so too did our temple, until its might was all but forgotten.”

Before his eyes, the paint fades away, ceilings and columns collapsing, the destruction of the Parthenon playing out in front of him.

“Some two hundred years ago,” she says, her voice taking on a darker, more dangerous tone, “a grave insult was paid to the ruins of my ancient sanctuary.” Like curtains falling on a stage, darkness swallowed up the structure, swift and impenetrable. “Many treasures were taken from my temple, stolen, by foolish, greedy men, spirited away far to the north, where they have languished in unworthy hands.”

He narrows his eyes. She can’t possibly be talking about--

Athena turns back to him, her eyes blazing, somehow twice as tall. “Retrieve my treasures,” she commands, war personified, “return the prizes of Athens to their rightful place, and I shall give you my support against my father’s wife.”

“You…” Percy leans back on his haunches, staring dumbfounded up at the goddess. “You don’t happen to mean the Parthenon Marbles, do you?”

“Yes.”

“The ones in the British Museum.”

“The same,” she says, imperious as ever.

Fantastic. “Welp,” Percy says, slapping his thighs, scrambling up. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll have to decline. Nice seeing you, by the way. I’ll tell Annabeth you stopped by.”

Her sharp gazes pierces him, full of fury. “You dare to refuse my support?”

He snorts. “When it means trying to get the UK to give the marbles back, absolutely. Do you know how stubborn they are about this?”

Lightning flashes behind her, nearly blinding him. “You will regret this,” Athena says, dark and foreboding. “You may have your father’s goodwill, but the queen of Olympus is clever and cunning, her displeasure swift and merciless.”

But Percy still shakes his head. “When Annabeth and I get married,” and it’s definitely a ‘when,’ it’s just a matter of when precisely, like after Junie can sleep through the night maybe, “I’d rather take my chances with Hera than try and untangle that particular can of olives.”

A growl, and a snap of her fingers, and Athena disappears.

With a start, Percy wakes up. Junie had gotten her chubby little hands around his nose, and had decided to pull.

“Ow, ow, Junie, hey,” he squawks, attempting to dislodge her grip from his face. “Hey, I’m awake, it’s okay.”

She laughs, illegally adorable, her grey eyes sparkling, squeezing harder.

“Okay, okay,” he laughs along with her. “You got my nose, you win.”

As if she were waiting for him to admit defeat, she lets go, clapping her pudgy toddler hands together.

“That’s right,” he picks her up, raising her above his head. “Barely sixteen months old and you already know how to take me down, don’t you? Just like your mommy.”

She smiles, waving her little fists.

Gods he loves this little monster.

Junie really is the best parts of both of them. She’s got her daddy’s hair but her mommy’s brain, quick and sharp and painfully adorable. She’s already learning to read Greek, Annabeth sitting her in her lap and sounding out vowels together, Annabeth taking her finger and tracing it over the letter shapes. This kid absorbs information like a sponge, which Percy can only assume is the natural conclusion of taking a son of Poseidon and a daughter of Athena and mixing their DNA together.

Thinking about his dream, he frowns. “What do you think, Junie,” he asks his toddler. “Should I take her up on her offer?”

The baby says nothing.

“I mean,” he tilts his head, “Greece has been trying to get the marbles back for two hundred years. UNESCO has top lawyers on this. What does Athena think I can do?”

Junie blinks at him.

“On the other hand, I do really love your mom,” he admits, “and I really want to marry her. You’d like that, right? To have your parents be married?”

There’s no way she can understand what he’s saying, but she moves her head like she’s nodding. Or maybe she does understand. She is Annabeth’s daughter after all.

Percy sighs. Dammit.

Time for a new project, he guesses.

***

Several months, a college graduation, and one relocation to Boston later, Percy growls, hurling his pencil at the wall. Mother fucker. Fuck the British Museum, fuck his tiny laptop screen, and fuck the Italian prick who decided to have the least ADHD-friendly handwriting of all time.

Why the hell is he doing this again? Like, seriously. Why in all of Hades is he, an inexperienced, snot-nosed, first year master’s student deciding to tackle the return of the fucking Parthenon marbles of all things. Like, what is wrong with him?

Roughly scrubbing his fingers through his hair, Percy stands up. He has to go for a walk, clear his head, or he might actually explode.

Then he catches a glimpse of the photo pinned to the fridge.

Percy’s mom had taken it, a candid of Percy and Annabeth and Junie on a sunny day in Central Park. There, in perfect 1080p, Junie is laughing, at what he can’t even remember, her pudgy fists yanking on Percy’s hair, while her mother and the love of his life does nothing to extricate Percy from her grip, her face screwed up so hard she had tears in her eyes.

Percy had talked a lot of shit to the goddess of war’s face, but truth be told… Hera still terrifies him a little. Which, he assumes, was her goal all along, but it would be nice to marry Annabeth without fear of something going terribly wrong--or, gods forbid, something happening to Junie. That simply was not a risk he was willing to take. Percy is content to spend the rest of his days as Annabeth’s life-partner and roommate, if it means that the queen of the heavens won’t have a reason to take out her issues on his children.

Even if the engagement ring in the back of the pantry is gathering dust.

Sunlight, wan but warm, falls in from the window, landing perfectly on his pile of open books. “I know, I know,” he growls, speaking to the air, rubbing his face so it doesn’t get stuck in a permanent glare. “I just--I just need a few minutes, okay? Let me go down the block and get a coffee or something. Two minutes, Lady Athena.”

The light fades. Percy takes that as an acquiescence, angrily scribbling a note. He’s not sure when Annabeth and Junie will be back, but even angry as he is, he doesn’t want to worry them.

Snatching up his jacket, he slams the door shut, stomping out of his apartment building and down the streets of Boston. He must be accidentally doing his wolf stare, because people are practically flinging themselves out of his path as he hurtles down the sidewalk. Literally--some girl is walking her husky, and the poor dog actually whimpers, cowering as Percy rounds the corner.

Coming to a stop, Percy slaps his hands over his face, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath.

He might be in over his head a little.

Sighing, he looks to his right. He’s standing outside of a Starbucks.

Percy doesn’t drink coffee, Annabeth does. And he knows exactly how much of a coffee snob his girlfriend is. Starbucks? Overpriced, overrated, over-sweetened garbage.

He pushes the door open, sliding up to the counter. “I’ll take a… iced mocha, I guess,” he says. “Large.”

“No problem,” chirps the barista. “I’ll have that out for you in a minute.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

One thing Starbucks does have going for it, though, are really good napkins for doodling.

Slumping down in his uncomfortable metal chair, elbows resting on the hard, faux-wood table, Percy takes out his pen, and doodles aimlessly on the brown napkins. No, not that pen. Just because it can write doesn’t mean that Percy wants to risk slicing his face open every time he has a stray idea. Completely out of the blue, Annabeth had gotten him a nice set of pens, and ever since then, Percy always keeps one on him. Now, if he could just remember to use the little notebook she had gotten him, too.

Percy is not an artist by any stretch of the imagination. He doesn’t have an image in mind, just lets his pen move, drawing endless chains of triangles and stars, nebulous shapes which form themselves into Greek letters. After he catches himself writing γλαυκῶπις for the eighth time in a row, he sighs, dropping his pen, and picks up the cup, taking a sip.

Yuck. At least the chocolate outweighs the coffee taste a little.

Gods, and their cups are always, like, drenched from condensation--not that Percy can feel it, but there’s practically a whole other drink on the outside of the plastic, dripping all over Percy’s pile of doodle napkins. That must be why they give out so many.

Grumbling, he mops up the mess, ink smudged into a blue-brown slurry.

He stops.

He squints at one of his doodles.

Not that anyone else could tell, but Percy had apparently been trying to recreate the signature of Ottoman sultan Selim III, the guy who had supposedly authorized the Earl of Elgin to take the Parthenon Marbles. Percy had been staring at copies of his signature all damn day, trying to tell if it had been forged or copied, but classical Arabic was just so far beyond anything he could even begin to wrap his head around. It was gorgeous work, but even looking at it made Percy’s eyes swim.

This particular doodle is not his best attempt. It looks nothing like the signature. It’s smudged, blotchy, but in a way that’s… weirdly familiar.

Snatching the napkin up, Percy bolts from the Starbucks, leaving his mocha behind.

Taking the steps of his apartment building two at a time, he bursts into his kitchen. His set up is exactly how he left it, books spread out all over the table, laptop shut and laid askew, the dry, half-eaten remains of his morning muffin on a plate on top of his encyclopedia of illuminated manuscripts--except for one book, the one on Ottoman history of the nineteenth century. It’s been opened, its pages facing the door, in the exact opposite direction of all the other books.

“Hello?” he calls into the apartment. “Anyone home?”

No response.

Percy approaches the table.

From the pages, Selim III stares at him, his portrait rendered in black and white, sitting just above a figure of his signature, his tughra.

Percy picks up the book, squinting.

The signature is crisp, clean, a work of art all by itself.

He looks at his napkin drawing. Blurry and smudged.

Opening his laptop, he pulls up the scans of the documents in the British museum, zooms in on the letter’s seal.

Blurry and smudged.

Percy stares.

It… can’t be that simple, can it?

In a daze, he fires an email off to his new grad advisor. Hopefully he won’t mind Percy sticking his nose in where he doesn’t belong. Hey Dr. T--was looking at the Parthenon marbles docs in the BM (don’t ask) and I noticed this weird smudge on the tughra. Lazy scribe, maybe?

And he closes his computer.

Later that night, while he puts Junie to bed, he gets a response. not sure. sent it to a colleague for a closer look.

He can’t even be bothered to really think about it though, not with Junie looking up at him with Annabeth’s eyes, and asking for another book. “Alright, kiddo,” he acquiesces, settling in beside her. All her story books are in ancient Greek, and at age two, she’s starting to recognize the letters. “Which one are you thinking?”

“Daw-fins, daddy,” she says, smiling.

“Dolphins, eh? Getting Mr. D on your side early, I see. As smart as mommy.” He leans down and kisses her forehead before he starts to read her the story of the sailors and their sudden dolphin madness.

***

“Huh,” Percy says to himself a few weeks later, as he and Annabeth are chilling on the couch, watching some Netflix.

His advisor has forwarded him an article from the BBC (New evidence suggests Elgin documents to be forgeries) with an accompanying note: Amazing catch!

“What is it?” Annabeth asks, nudging him with her elbow--a feat, since she also has an armful of a squirmy Junie to deal with.

“Update in the Parthenon marbles thing.”

That gets her attention. Anything Parthenon-related does. “Really?”

He shows her his phone.

Her eyes go wide as saucers. “Damn.”

“Yep.” He doesn’t realize he’s smiling until he feels his lips pulling at the sides of his mouth.

“My mom is probably your biggest fan right now.”

He starts. “What did you say?”

Turning back to the TV, she still manages to cast him a weird look. “I said, my mom will probably love you for this.”

A beat, then Percy practically somersaults over the couch, darting into the kitchen. Wrenching open the pantry door, he shoves his hand behind their collection of flours, fingers grasping for--

“If you’re looking for any more sacrificial cookies,” Annabeth calls after him, “we burned them all when Junie got a cold.”

“Remind me to make some more,” says Percy, pulling out his prize. It’s a little dusty, streaks of flour clinging to the blue velvet. “I have a feeling we’ll need them.”

“Oh yeah?” She chuckles. “What, did Olympus put in a special order?”

Percy slides back down next to her, ring hidden in his closed fist. “Can I have the baby for a sec?”

Eyes fixed to the screen, Annabeth passes her over. Junie’s hands automatically reach for his nose, ready to grab, but Percy places the ring in her grasp instead, kissing her forehead. “Hey, babe?” he asks Annabeth, handing her back. “I think our daughter has something for you.”

Annabeth takes her without a second glance.

Then she does take a second glance.

Ring closed in her pudgy toddler fist, Junie holds it out to her.

Annabeth gapes.

“So,” Percy says, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, “quick confession: I wasn’t just working on the marbles for fun.”

Annabeth just stares. Junie babbles.

“Your mom told me that if I helped get the marbles back, she’d back us against Hera if we ever got married. So…” He trails off, waiting for her response. As close as he is, he can see the tears start to well up in her eyes--a good sign. “Shall we?” he prompts.

“Oh thank all the gods.” Annabeth is crying, because she's Annabeth. And because she's Annabeth, she also wastes no time in transferring Junie to her other side, and holding out her hand so Percy can slide the ring on her finger. “I was so worried I'd have to have Chase on my Masters’ diploma, too.”

Percy is making sauce when his phone lights up. He hits speaker. “Hey.”

“Hey man,” comes the tinny voice of Magnus. “Sorry I missed your call earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Percy says, “I figured you were dying or something.”

Magnus’ eye roll is almost palpable. “Very funny. What’s up?”

Bringing the spoon to his lips, he blows on it, taking a taste, before reaching for the salt. Needs way more. “Do you happen to have any Varangian guards in Hotel Valhalla?”

“Varangian guards? Uh, maybe. Probably. Why?”

“I’m doing a thing on the attempted reconquest of Sicily,” he says, lowering the heat a little to a simmer, “and I’m having some trouble piecing together the Battle of Montemaggiore. Know anyone who was in it?”

Magnus hums. “I’ll ask around. Anyone in particular you’re looking for?”

Rifling through their little spice cabinet, he makes a mental note to get a new thing of hot sauce, tipping the rest of it into the pot. “If you have anyone who fought under Harald Hardrada, that would be great.”

“Hardrada? I’m pretty sure he lives on the fifth floor.”

Percy nearly drops the bottle. “No shit?”

“Big dude, long mustache, writes poetry?”

“Yes!” He picks up the phone, grinning from ear to ear. “Do you think I could come up and talk to him sometime?”

“Sure, but I thought you were doing something on Homer’s identity?”

He groans. “Backburnered for now until she stops driving me crazy.” No matter how many times Percy tells her, he can’t just drop the “Homer was actually an Egyptian woman” bomb without some serious evidence backing that up. And forgery is not one of his strong suits. Hence the need for a different topic for the time being.

“Has everyone ever told you your life is weird?”

“No, why do you ask?”

His phone suddenly vibrates, shocking him so badly he nearly drops it into the saucepan. Almost home, texts the love of his life, a shot of serotonin directly into his bloodstream. V hungry

“Sorry, Magnus, but I gotta run. Thanks for your help.”

“No problem. Say hi to my cousin for me.”

“Can do.”

“And make sure you pick a date soon! Sam needs to know so she can schedule her flight home.”

“Soon as I can.” You know, when his brain isn’t melting from grading undergrad papers. And making sure Annabeth and Junie are fed. And that Annabeth doesn’t lose herself in graduate school. And finding Junie a new preschool after she destroyed a classroom last month because of a monster. His toddler is a badass. But he’s a little worried she’s gonna follow Mommy and Daddy’s example as far as school goes.

Sometimes, he thinks that their wedding just won’t ever happen. With Athena on board, he figured it would happen sooner or later, but time just… keeps getting away from them. Which isn’t the end of the world. A lifetime at Annabeth’s side is all he really needs, Mrs. Jackson or no. But he’s seen the silver fabric she weaved for her wedding dress. It would be a shame for all that hard work to go to waste.

And, yeah, he wants to see his little Junie dancing down the aisle flinging seaweed before her mother. He wants his mom to cry a little and he wants all his friends to be there to celebrate with them. Is that so much to ask?

Speaking of his two favorite girls--”We’re home!” Annabeth calls from the hallway. “Junie, go say hi to daddy!”

Her bare feet slapping against the floor, his daughter comes toddling in, making a beeline for him. “Hey, kiddo,” Percy says, scooping her up. “How’s my best girl?”

“She’s just fine, thanks,” Annabeth says, setting her work bag down on the table. “Tell me I don’t have to wait for dinner--Margie kept me for the entirety of my lunch break, and I am starving.”

“Just gotta make a salad and we should be good to go.” But he makes no move to finish chopping vegetables, entirely too enraptured with the way Junie smiles when Percy sticks his tongue out at her. “Let me guess,” he says. “Does my best girl want some olives?”

“Peas,” Junie says.

“Oh, you want peas instead?”

She giggles, waving her arms. “Elaia, daddy!”

“Fine,” and he kisses her nose. “Extra olives for you.”

“Chip off the old block,” Annabeth says.

Handing her back to her mother, Percy sighs. “When am I going to get a kid who likes anchovies?”

“I’m doing my best here, okay?”

***

Hardrada is… not what he expected.

“Reputation isn’t that bad.” Hardrada is saying. “The production isn’t what it should be, but lots of her lyrics are still on point.”

“The production ruins it,” Percy insists. “And as a follow up to 1989? It's just bad.”

“And what about Lover?”

“What about Lover?”

“You can’t argue with the genius of that one.”

“It is terribly inconsistent,” Percy shoots back. “Yeah, ‘The Archer’ and ‘Daylight’ and ‘Miss Americana’ are sublime, but ‘ME!’? Come on!”

“Are you one of those people who thinks she peaked at Red?”

“Red is a bop from start to finish,” Percy fires back. “But she definitely peaked at folklore.”

“Thinking she peaked at folklore is just pedestrian when ‘tis the damn season’ exists!” Hardrada yells, drawing his axe, which is then promptly flung over Percy’s head.

As the only mortal in a room full of armed, excitable, undead Taylor Swift stans, Percy beats a hasty exit, Magnus and Jason covering him as he flees, because they’re just so thoughtful like that. Percy’s pretty sure he saw Magnus take an arrow to the knee, going down in a heap, before he shuts the door to the hotel, finding himself in a Forever 21.

Looking over his notes later as he gets back to his apartment in the North End, he frowns. They had spent… approximately twenty minutes talking about Sicily before getting solidly off track. Who knew an eleventh century viking would have such intense feelings about pop music?

And now he’s singing “seven” to himself as he unlocks the apartment door, because it's a good song, and because it made him think of Annabeth. And he always wants to think of Annabeth.

“Hey, babe,” he calls into the apartment, toeing off his shoes. “I’m back!”

He gets no response.

Percy looks up, confused. “Annabeth?”

“In the bathroom,” he hears, faintly.

“Everything okay?”

“Yep! Totally fine!” she says, unconvincingly.

“Alright,” he calls back. “Let me know if you need something.”

Moving Junie’s toys out of the way, he drops down onto the couch, grabbing his laptop. Hopefully he can make some sort of sense of the… notes… that he got from Hardrada. Though he’s probably going to have to trek out to Beacon Hill again, which, while not really out of his way, does mean he has to hike a bit from the Park Street station through the Commons, which makes him super sweaty and out of breath. It’s just embarrassing, walking into a hotel full of the greatest warriors of Valhalla, and Percy can barely handle a hill.

However, he’s not so out of practice that he can’t sense Annabeth coming up behind him. “You good?”

“What do you think about getting married by the end of the month?”

“Sure,” he says, pecking at his computer. Damn autocorrect ruining all the Norse names. He keeps forgetting to download the right language package he needs. “But I thought you wanted to wait until after you turned in your portfolio?”

“Well… I might not be able to fit in my dress if we wait much longer.”

That gets his attention.

Percy turns around, slowly. Annabeth is grinning, holding a thin little piece of plastic with a circle on the end. She wiggles it.

“Is that…?”

“Yep.”

“Oh.”

Her smile falls. “Are you mad?”

“What? No!” Percy slides his computer off his lap, twisting around to face her, up on his knees. “No, no, not at all. I’m not mad.” She slings her arms around his neck, pregnancy test warm against his skin. “I just…”

Eyes warm, she looks into his, unafraid. “What is it?”

“It’s…” It’s silly, is what it is. But this is Annabeth. If he can’t tell her, who can he tell? “I just feel bad that I’ve gotten you pregnant twice before getting married.”

“Well, at least I’m not nineteen this time,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “But maybe we wouldn’t have this problem if you weren’t such a horndog.”

Percy snorts. “Me? What about you, Annabeth ‘3 AM anal before my first lecture’ Chase.”

“Jackson,” she corrects.

“Huh?”

“It’s Annabeth ‘3 AM anal before your first lecture’ Jackson.”

Grinning, he presses his mouth to hers. After all this time, she still smells like lemons, her lips soft and warm. “Not yet it’s not.”

“Then let’s make it happen.”

And, well, Percy can’t think of a better plan.

Jamie hisses. “Fuuuuuck,” she whispers, the sound dropping like a stone in the dead lecture hall. “Goddamn shit fuck ass.”

And the worst part is, she’d actually spent a lot of time preparing for her Latin midterm. She’d made flashcards, she’d drilled noun endings, she’d even slept with the textbook under her pillow for fuck’s sake.

Typical--the moment she sits down to take the test, it all goes out the window.

“Legistne carmen longum de Troiano,” she reads under her breath, as though saying it out loud will unlock some hidden secrets of the cosmos.

Nope. Nothing. The multiple choices remain as inscrutable as ever.

“Psst.”

Jamie looks up.

There’s a four year old staring at her.

“Hi,” Jamie says.

“Hi,” says the four year old. Junie, her name is, she thinks.

Mr. Jackson, Jamie’s Latin TA, will bring his kids to class with him sometimes--his wife works full time, and Jamie guesses that they can’t afford a babysitter. She’s a cute kid, quiet, usually sitting in the corner of the lecture hall, drawing or even knitting, sometimes with her little sister playing with toy ships next to her.

Now, she’s still staring at her. “What’s up?” Jamie asks.

“Bello,” says Junie.

Jamie blinks. “Sorry?”

“Legistne carmen longum de bello Troiano.”

She squints down at her test sheet, attempting to visualize her flash cards. That’s… “Bello” is the right answer.

The fuck? The fucking four year old can speak Latin? “Thanks,” she whispers.

Junie beams at her.

Darting her eyes to the front of the lecture hall, Jamie spies her professor, Buck, completely conked out at his desk, his chest rising and falling with his snores. Percy is nowhere to be seen, his laptop open at his chair. “What’s the next one?” Jamie turns her paper so that Junie can see better.

“Pluto Proserpinam infelicem cepit,” she announces, perfectly accented.

Jamie points to the one after that.

“Rex qui pontem fecit erat Ancus Martius.”

“Awesome.”

The door to the lecture hall opens. Jamie whips around in her seat, startled, and sees her TA, walking down the steps. From the corner of her eye, Junie disappears, booking it to her dad, who scoops her up without missing a beat. “Hey kiddo,” he murmurs, smiling crookedly. “Were you bothering my students?” Then he glances at Jamie. “Sorry about that--hope she wasn’t too annoying.”

But Jamie shakes her head. “It’s fine.” Dammit.

Still smiling, Percy makes his way back down to his seat. Junie grins at her over his shoulder, her arms wrapped tightly around her dad’s neck.

At the beginning of the semester, Professor Buck had droned on and on about Mr. Jackson, about how he was one of the best up-and-coming classics scholars in the world, how he could have had his pick of PhD programs, and how NYU was lucky to have him. He got first pick of assistantships this semester, apparently, but had volunteered to teach Latin 1001, and they should all be grateful, because he had done some beautiful new translation of Virgil for his Master’s thesis, and they were all going to learn a lot from him.

Turning back to her exam, Jamie snorts. Of course a guy like that would have a kid who could speak perfect Latin.

She really should have just stuck with German instead.

#my fic #pjo #percabeth #the rivalry ends here #perseannabeth #darkmagyk #percy should be a classics major and here's why #the percy major for the stem hating author #also i feel like i have to say:#1) classics conferences are not like that #2) if only it were that easy to get the bm to return looted antiquities 🙄#pjo fic #percabeth fic #percy jackson

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meltwonu · 3 years

Text

| 𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔩 𝔦 𝔪𝔢𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 | [CHAPTER 5] [FINAL]

pairing; fratboy!wonwoo x reader

this chapter’s notes; fratboy!wonwoo, dom!wonwoo, restraints, blindfolds, daddy!kink, dirty talk, sex toys, using panties as a gag, forced orgasms, squirting! 🥴💕oMG YOU GUYS I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER WTF 😭😭😭 I just wanna say thank you so much for all the love and support you all have given me while writing Caffeine and Until I Met You I really cannot believe any of this… It’s crazy to me that you guys liked this fratboy wonwoo au so much… I really appreciate it! And expect some spin off chapters in the future! I already have 3 planned ☠️ Also, I mention it all the time but I never expect any of my fics to get this much love so every time I’m just shocked 😭 literally sitting here blushing just thinking about it 😭😭💕dfsdffds Also this is almost 4500 words so… strap in 😎🥴 Enjoy the last chapter, inbox roundup tmr and I love you so so so so much 💕

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 COMPLETE

Wonwoo stares at himself in the mirror, lips pursed and brows furrowed.

“I don’t know.”

Mingyu and Minghao both sigh; the latter throwing his arms up in defeat when Wonwoo grimaces in the mirror’s reflection. “Hyung, you haven’t liked anything we dressed you in. Why don’t you trust us?”

Mingyu places his hands on Wonwoo’s shoulders - squeezing the padding in the blazer as he meets the older male’s stare in the mirror.

“This is a date, right?”

“I mean… Yeah? I guess?” Wonwoo mumbles, a little bit shy. “I just don’t want her to think I’m trying too hard. I’m not trying to propose to her, you know. Just trying to get in the foot in the door towards the right direction.”

Minghao steps forward, sighing and shaking his head.

“Yeah, that’s true. But also… Isn’t think your first, real, official date with her? Don’t you want it to be special?”

This time Wonwoo laughs at the pair's dramatics - already shrugging off the blazer as Mingyu’s hands fall from his shoulders.

“God, the two of you make it seem like I’ve never dated a day in my life.”

“Hyung, aren’t you also kind of acting like that yourself? You asked us to help you dress for it in the first place.”

A crimson flush paints Wonwoo’s cheeks at Mingyu’s words; lips pressing into a firm line as he avoids their shit eating grins.

Goddamn it.

“Whatever, just show me other outfits you guys have.”

Wonwoo tells you to meet him in front of the library at 10AM.

‘It’s somewhere familiar.’ He says.

You’d rolled your eyes but agreed - already standing in front of the familiar doors ten minutes earlier than your agreed meeting time.

Part of you was extremely giddy and excited and the other parts of you were nervous and anxious at what Wonwoo had planned for today.

‘Did you have any suggestions for our date?’

Wonwoo bites the inside of his cheek as he sends you the text - palms clammy as he sighs.

‘You should ask for her opinion, hyung. Let her know you value her!’ Mingyu had said.

Wonwoo knows that.

But he blames being away from home a little too long for his airheadedness about it all. Tells himself it’s because he was gone for so long that he doesn’t really know how to act anymore.

Deep down inside, Wonwoo knows it’s really just because you make his heart do backflips when you smile at him and he just never knows how to respond except by shooting you an awkward tight lipped smile of his own.

He’ll call you beautiful all day long and praise you until you beg him to stop but something about the candid moments in between the pleasure that are the moments that make him feel like he’s falling in love for the first time all over again.

But Wonwoo wouldn’t quite admit that to you right now.

‘What would your ideal date be, Wonwoo?’

He runs late by ten minutes.

Soft curses spill from his lips the entire time he jogs over - the flower bouquet in his clammy hand getting crushed slightly at the death grip he has on it.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry I’m late!”

Wonwoo rambles on about how Minghao wouldn’t stop chasing him with a bottle of hairspray but your shaking pupils can only focus on the poor bouquet of flowers being throttled in the midst of Wonwoo’s animated retelling.

“A--are those for m-me?” You whisper; cutting him off as his eyes flit down to his hand.

“O-oh, um, yes, f-for you…” He passes you the bouquet - a shy smile on his face when you take it from his hands.

He’d picked them out himself after deciding on his own that he wanted to do something special for you.

Wanted it to mean something important.

“A dried flower bouquet?”

Wonwoo smiles sheepishly as he scratches the back of his head.

Was it too cheesy?

“They’re already dried so they’ll technically last forever now.”

You’re glad, for once, that you can manage to hold in the scream that almost escapes you when you look up to Wonwoo’s bespectacled face.

“O-oh… Thank you, Wonwoo.”

You want to learn about Wonwoo.

What he likes and dislikes and what he likes to do in his free time. You have a vague idea of it all, but you want to hear it from him directly.

You want him to turn to you and openly talk to you like you’ve been lovers for much longer.

He holds your hand as he guides you through the museum, but he’s oddly quiet and aloof when you try to pull him into conversations.

“Wonwoo, I--”

“Hey look, it’s a Hannah Höch piece. She’s one of the artists that pioneered that collaging thing Mingyu likes to do.” You lose him again as he reads off a biography off the wall and you can’t help but furrow your brows at his back.

You’d ask him over lunch.

The two of you spend a good few hours at the museum.

Although, admittedly, you spend more of that time following Wonwoo around as he silently admires the pieces instead of talking to you.

But by the time lunch is rolling around, he walks you over to a small hole in the wall cafe; flowers adorning the entrance and large windows letting in the sunlight as the two of you sit in a small nook away from most of the other customers.

“So, I--”

“Wonwoo, can I ask you a question?”

He tilts his head in mild confusion at your perplexed tone. “Sure?”

It takes a few seconds of you opening and closing your mouth, unsure of where to start before you sigh.

“So… is this a date?”

Wonwoo scratches the back of his head, ears and cheeks hot as you stare back at him. “I just–I want to understand where we are, Wonwoo. Or what we are, I guess.”

There’s a sigh on his lips and out of nervousness, all he can do is readjust his glasses for the third time.

“I told you I was bad at this.”

He was nervous the entire time the two of you were at the museum and he didn’t know how to let you know so he just didn’t.

He was hoping that he would’ve had the confidence like he usually did.

“I’m sorry, I know, I--I should’ve tried talking but god, you make me so fucking nervous?” He laughs at his own shyness as he runs a free hand through his hair, fully messing up the styling that Minghao had painstakingly done.

“I make you nervous?”

Oh god.

“I--yeah. You really do.” He smiles genuinely at you before his shy eyes focus on the cup of coffee in front of himself. “I know it’s hard to believe, all things considered, but you really do and sometimes I don’t know how to handle myself so I just… Don’t. And I know it’s not fair and I’m super fucking aware I do it too, I just--I can be bad at words sometimes, I guess.”

You try to keep your cool as you nod; lips easing into a soft smile as you stare at Wonwoo dreamily.

You make him nervous.

Letting it go for now, you stir your drink; thinking of ways to get Wonwoo to be more talkative but not in a nervous, panicked way.

“Hey, why don’t you tell me about your semester abroad?”

That manages to do the trick as Wonwoo spends the rest of the lunch portion of your date telling you various anecdotes of his trip.

And you learn that other than the long lectures and midday naps, his eyes light up at the stories he tells you about when they were actually at the archeological dig sites.

“It was so interesting to see remnants of what used to roam the earth before we did and to see little artifacts of old cities. I could’ve spent all day out there just excavating.”

“D’you think you’ll go again if you get the chance?”

Wonwoo squeezes your hand as the two of you walk out of the little cafe - already heading towards the last destination that he’d picked out.

“It’d be nice to.” He grins cheekily at you. “But maybe next time we could go together?”

You end up having to take a taxi to get to the final location.

‘It’d be too far to walk for you, pretty baby~’ Wonwoo had cooed.

The car stops after about 35 minutes and while he pays the fare, you step out to read the sign in front of the large domed building.

‘Planetarium.’

“You okay, baby?”

“Hmm? Y-yeah! I’m just… Wow, I don’t think I’ve been here in… ever.” You laugh awkwardly as Wonwoo places a gentle hand on the small of your back.

“I thought it’d be nice and quiet. We could just... Enjoy each others’ company. And talk. Finally.”

The two of you are quiet when you walk in but Wonwoo tells the receptionist that he’s booked a private room which makes your cheeks warm up.

He’d definitely gone the extra mile.

The two of you are led to a smaller room - just enough to fit ten or so people except it’s only you and Wonwoo once the receptionist shuts the door and leaves you be.

“Shall we?” You nod as you take a seat in one of the recliners; setting your things down into the seat next to you as Wonwoo takes the seat on your other side. The two of you get comfortable as you stare up into the projected night sky - only the buzzing of the projectors in the small room filling up the silence as you start to relax.

Wonwoo reaches for your hand in the darkness and you feel yourself jolt in surprise when he tugs you a little closer to himself.

“Have you ever heard the story of the sun and moon?”

“Hmm? Which one? Aren’t there a lot?”

He closes his eyes, sighing softly as he relaxes in the darkness.

“It’s that old story about how the Sun loved the Moon so much that he died for her every night so that she could breathe. He thought she was so beautiful when she’d glow but the Moon knew their fates were decided in different paths. So the Sun would see her in passing, short glimpses, right before he disappeared beyond the horizon. It’s a romantic story about sacrifice and star crossed lovers.”

“Is that what we are?”

Wonwoo lets out a loud laugh; eyes forming crescents as his glasses slide down his nose bridge.

“No, I think our story is much more fortunate than that.”

Black is Wonwoo’s favorite color.

“A-ah, hold on…!”

He likes to take naps when he’s not working or in his classes and sometimes spends his time playing PC games with his frat brothers until 3 in the morning.

“Wo--Wonwoo!”

He doesn’t have a ton of hobbies but he’s been thinking about videography lately since Mingyu’s brought it up.

“Baby, h-hold on, I’m gonna drop you if you don’t stop flailing!”

And he’s already thinking about taking a film class next semester and maybe quitting his job at the library to focus.

He tells you his favorite hyung is Seungcheol, ‘because he buys food all the time’ and his favorite dongsaeng is Seokmin, ‘because he cries easily so you know his heart is always in the right place.’

“Okay, finally!”

Wonwoo all but kicks the door to his room open, carrying you inside before he kicks it shut.

He lays you down gently on the bed as you giggle; a gentle smile on his face when he lays down next to you.

“I don’t know why you wanted to carry me up the entire flight of stairs but thank you.”

“Think of it as my sun sacrificing for your moon.”

You roll your eyes at his sudden cheesiness and in the heat of the moment, you find yourself rolling onto your side and immediately reaching for Wonwoo’s face as you tug him into a heated kiss.

“Mmph!”

He’s taken by surprise at first but quickly melts into it himself; eyes closing and hands reaching for your body when you start to roll on top of him.

His lips are soft and his kisses slow - the taste of coffee lingering on his lips and tongue when your lips part for him.

You’re reminded of his soft and gentle touches from a few days prior when you moan against his mouth and he’s quick to thread a hand through your hair before he flips your positions so that you’re underneath him instead.

“Mmh… Wonwoo…”

He kisses you on the lips one more time before he pulls away and takes his glasses off.

“I have one more thing for you to conclude our date.”

“Oh? A gift?”

“You can say that…”

He gets up from the bed and walks over to his closet - fetching a small box that he brings back to the bed as you sit up on your elbows.

“Wait, you’re not actually proposing, are you? On the first date?” Snorting, he takes the lid off and empties the contents of the box onto the bed.

“Depends. There’s definitely a cock ring in this pile somewhere.”

‘You can use anything in this box on me tonight. I wanna give you the freedom.’

“You look… wow.”

You try your best to not go over the top with the toys but you couldn’t help yourself when you reached for the blindfold and the set of handcuffs; shaky fingers helping Wonwoo get into position against the headboard before you had locked the handcuffs into place and wrapped the blindfold around his head.

“Everything you dreamed about, baby? Having me at your mercy?” He smirks and even through the blindfold, you already know his eyes are smoldering and staring holes into you as you sit on his thighs.

“Maybe we should switch off every now and again ‘cause you look really good like this, Wonwoo…”

“Hah, well, let’s see how well you do, hmm, princess? Maybe if you do a good job, I might let you.”

Gulping, your eyes flit down his half naked body and yours before you reach for one more thing from the box; turning it on and letting it buzz to life as Wonwoo tenses up slightly.

He holds his breath and anticipates it but he’s still not as prepared as he thinks when you press the vibrator against his cock through the fabric of his boxer briefs.

“Oh--s-shit!”

The sensations feel even stronger with his eyes covered by the blindfold and his arms bound above his head and no matter how much he wants to tug against his restraints, he knows he can’t do anything.

Your mouth is agape at the way Wonwoo squirms underneath you and for a moment, you wonder if this is what he sees when you’re the one squirming underneath him.

“You’re not usually this sensitive… daddy~”

The teasing lilt in your voice has Wonwoo clenching his jaw before he huffs. “Daddy’s not used to being the one tied up, sweetheart.”

He opens his mouth to comment again, only a soft moan floating past his lips as he thrusts up against the vibrator. You don’t do anything other than hold it against his clothed cock but it’s enough for him to want to give in and switch places with you already - even though it’s only been minutes since you started.

Wonwoo tells himself control is something he needs to learn how to manage.

You can’t help but touch yourself while you hold the toy against him; biting your lip to hold in your noises when you gently run your fingers over your clothed mound.

“Sweetheart…”

“Y-yes, daddy?”

Grinning, Wonwoo can already tell by the shakiness of your voice that you’re affected too and he can’t help but want his hands roaming all over your skin.

“You should have all your fun now while you can~”

Gulping, you heed the warning in his voice as you set the vibrator to its highest setting, causing Wonwoo to let out a broken cry as the vibrations make his entire body tremble and try to shy away from the toy.

“G--god, fuh--fuck, ngh…”

His moans have your pussy clenching around emptiness and your fingertips only press harder into the wet patch of your panties at the way he tugs against his restraints.

“D-daddy… I--Can I sit on your cock now? I can’t w-wait any longer, you look so good…”

“O-oh? Watching daddy being a little bit submissive got your panties all wet, huh, princess? Are you wet enough to take daddy’s cock already?”

“Mmhmm…”

You turn off the toy and pull it away from him, watching his body go slack before you shimmy off of his lap to take off your panties.

A grin etches itself onto your face as you hold the wet material in your hands. “Daddy? Do you wanna know how wet I am?”

You can see Wonwoo’s brows furrow from above the blindfold but he nods once, lips parted slightly as he catches his breath. Goosebumps are all over his skin and he can feel you starting to grind down onto his clothed cock as your wetness soaks into the material of his boxer briefs.

“Oh, sweetheart, I--mmph!”

Giggling, you stuff the fabric between his parted lips - muffling anything he was going to say after as you grind down onto him harder. “Mmh, daddy you’re so hard… ‘m gonna make myself cum on your cock now, okay~?”

Only what you can assume are muffled curse words fall from his lips when you scoot back down to his thighs, tugging his boxer briefs down before wrapping a hand around his cock.

You lean over and let saliva drip from your mouth to the head of his cock - smearing the spit and his precum up and down his shaft as you prolong his teasing before giving himself, and yourself, what you both really want.

“Daddy, I wish you could see yourself right now~ I can tell how much you wanna feel my cute ‘lil pussy wrapped around your cock… Squeezing you and making you feel good too~”

Wonwoo can only groan around the fabric, hips thrusting up into your palm.

“And I’m so wet now too… But daddy always gets me sooo wet…” You shimmy back up his body, positioning his cock at your entrance before you start to sink down slowly. “A-ah, sliding into my hot ‘lil cunt like you w-were made for me, daddy…”

The amount of expletives Wonwoo’s screamed into the soaked material is uncountable at this point, but he says a mental prayer thanking the powers up above when he’s finally fully seated in your warmth - cock already curving deliciously into your g-spot as you mewl.

“Mmh, I could cum like this… Your cock is s-so big it’s already filling me up s-so good and--and touching all the p-places inside me that make me w-wanna cum…”

You grind atop his lap, swiveling your hips before removing your bra and tossing it off to the side. “Ngh… daddy…” Your hands roam your skin, cupping your breasts and pinching your nipples as you whimper and clench down onto Wonwoo’s cock harder.

“Nod once if you wanna see me, daddy~ Or nod twice if you wanna talk to me~”

Wonwoo grits his teeth - you could really be evil when you wanted to.

But he nods once, sharply, to let you know he’s not happy he can’t have both. You laugh softly in return, leaning up to remove the silk ribbon from his eyes.

He blinks rapidly to adjust to the dimmed room, eyes on your naked body in a flash as you go back to teasing yourself.

“Do you like what you see, daddy?”

Wonwoo gulps, this time nodding shakily as he watches you pinch your nipples and cup your breasts. “Bet you wanna touch me too, huh, daddy?” He narrows his eyes - silently telling you to watch yourself.

“Hmm… s’not as fun when daddy doesn’t talk to me too~”

You smile at him teasingly before you reach over to pull the wet material from between Wonwoo’s lips and he doesn’t waste a second before he’s chuckling - quietly yet enough to make you shiver.

“Hah, gotta hand it to you, princess...”

He doesn’t say anything more which makes you nervous so instead, you start bouncing on his lap, fingertips on your clit as you chase your pleasure.

This won’t last much longer, you think, I gotta take what I can get.

Soft mewls spill from your lips as you maintain eye contact with him and the way he just stares at you is enough to make you cry out.

“D-daddy, d--don’t, ah, look at m-me like that…”

“Like what, princess?”

You pinch your clit, eyes clamping shut when he shifts slightly underneath you.

A choked sob bubbles up your throat when you throw your head back and the pleasure washes over you - your orgasm hitting you hard as you swivel your hips faster.

“Oho, my pretty ‘lil princess is already cumming~ Your hot ‘lil cunt is sucking my cock in deeper while you cum… Don’t you want daddy to fuck you good and hard? Feel my cock fucking you so deep you feel it in your stomach?”

“O-oh, god, daddy…!” Your thighs shake as you rub quicker circles on your clit - milking your orgasm for what it’s worth before you would give back the control to Wonwoo.

“Or maybe daddy should fuck you slow… Let you feel every inch of me when I’m sliding in and out of your pretty ‘lil cunt… Make you beg for me and crave me so fuckin’ bad, just like you did to me?”

His laugh is cruel and makes you whimper; orgasm ebbing away as your fingers slow down and your hips come to a stop.

Gulping, you know the second the locks click on the handcuffs that Wonwoo would most likely make you pay for all your teasing.

But you fish for the keys lost in the bedsheets - shaky, sticky fingers reaching above the silent male underneath you as you start to undo the locks keeping him bound to the bed.

And it doesn’t take long.

“Ah…!”

Wonwoo does the rest of the work himself, tugging himself free and maneuvering you swiftly until you’re on your back; the air knocked out of your lungs at how quickly he moved.

“Daddy, I--”

The words die on your tongue when Wonwoo pushes your legs up to your chest, not even bothering to rid himself of his boxer briefs when he sinks his cock back into you.

In this position, Wonwoo holds all the control; cock slamming into your sensitive cunt as garbled noises fall from your lips.

“D--daddy, ‘m se--sensitive… ngh…”

Your cunt is like a vice grip around his cock as he snaps his hips hard and fast - this time chasing his own pleasure after all your teasing.

In all honesty, he would’ve cum if you kept the vibrator on his body any longer and he mentallly reminds himself to not let you know how easily it affected him.

“I know you’re sensitive, princess~ Which is why you’re gonna cum for me again.”

Wonwoo reaches between your bodies, rubbing quick circles on your clit with the pad of his thumb as you scream out his name.

“Oh--oh, god! Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo!”

“That’s right. Fuckin’ scream my name, princess. Who’s making you feel this good?”

“Y--You! Daddy! Fuck, ah, I--I can’t, I can’t, I--mmh!”

Wonwoo already starts to feel your body tense up with each thrust of his hips that has the head of his cock tapping your g-spot.

“You can and you will, princess.” He mutters, eyes focused on your face that contorts in absolute bliss. “Daddy wants to feel you cumming on his cock while he fucks you nice and deep. You take me so well, princess~ Fuckin’ taking all of me in your cute ‘lil cunt.”

Tears blur your vision as the pleasure starts to wash over you a second time - nothing leaving your lips except for an alternation of ‘Wonwoo’ and ‘daddy’ as your legs shake and toes curl.

“Fuck, princess…!”

Wonwoo’s cock is forced out of you as you cum hard; squirting all over his lower half as you cry out and convulse against the sheets.

The ringing in your ears is enough to block out anything he seems to say but he’s quick to wrap a hand around his cock and tap your swollen clit as he works you through your second high.

“Aww, my good ‘lil princess is so cute when she’s squirting all over daddy~ Making a big mess, too~” Your body jolts with each tap of his cock head against your clit and it only prolongs your orgasm as you thrash against his sheets.

“Da---daddy… I, hic, ‘m sor--sorry…”

When Wonwoo feels your body start to relax after a few tense minutes, he takes in your glowing form underneath him; thighs slicked with wetness and bed sheets soaked and crumpled underneath your bodies.

In a moment of gentleness, he lets your quivering legs down, fingertips massaging your tired body as he leans over you.

His lips are ghosting across your cheek as you open your teary eyes, soft cries still on your lips when he wipes at your tear stained cheek with the back of his fingers.

“You okay, princess?”

“Mm…”

“You wanna stop now? We can if you want.” His voice is barely above a whisper and the softness of it makes your body feel warm and sated when he kisses you gently. He repeats this a few more times as you catch your breath; leaving feather-light kisses all over your face as you mewl.

“You didn’t cum yet though, daddy…”

“I know, s’okay.” He smiles against your lips, “I want what you want… ‘Cause I really like you. And I’d really like to go on more dates with you, princess. And I wanna be able to tell everyone that I really like you too. And show you off to them and make them jealous that you’re mine. If you’ll let me. And learn with me.”

You giggle tiredly into his kiss, hazy eyes meeting his own.

You were happy.

And Wonwoo was too.

“Wanna start by grabbing me a glass of water from downstairs then, daddy?”

“Anything for you, my moon.”

“Does that really work?”

“What do you mean?”

“The ‘holding a cup to the door’ thing. Can you hear them?” Mingyu purses his lips at Minghao’s question.

“Not… really. Kinda just muffles it more.”

Jeonghan passes by the two currently hunched over each other in front of Wonwoo’s door; an incredulous look on his face.

“Why are the two of you listening in on them fucking? Fucking weirdos.”

Mingyu and Minghao both turn to look at the older male, lips pursed into a firm line “We’re not listening to them fucking, hyung. We’re trying to hear their conversation.”

Jeonghan laughs as he shakes his head.

“There’s absolutely no valuable conversation going on if she’s screaming ‘daddy’ so loud that Seungcheol is texting me about it from his bedroom. You should leave before Wonwoo finds out and decides to make rugs out of the two of you.”

“Ugh… Yes, hyung.”

💕

#wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo fic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #svt scenarios #svt imagines #uimy_meltwonu #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #fratboy!svt

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lilacprincessofrecovery · 3 years

Text

A Stark Halloween Party // Tony Stark x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 1788 Warning: Light insecurity

There's this one girl. She wasn't a girl. She was a woman. She was bigger than other women. She was different. She loved herself. That's what drew big time tech billionare Tony Stark to her. He liked that she was confident. She was sometimes sarcastic under her breath when she thought no one could hear her. Tony realized that she was very similar to him. Tony didn't treat her like he treated Pepper. Pepper had actually decided to go to a law firm instead of working with Tony.

He knew y/n would be slower than Pepper in heels. He would only order her to stand beside him and write his work notes while he was in his lab. She would make him laugh. That wasn't easy for him since the New York incident. He loved to see her every day at 10am. Being confident was a great thing to be around Tony Stark.

Another thing about him, Tony always loved parties. No disaster would get him down when it came to a celebration or charity. Halloween was a big shen-dig for him. He was a man who liked costumes, too. He made everyone's costumes better yet he had someone else make the costumes; not that he didn't have an idea of the costumes but he couldn't sew. He decided after the computer generated the costumes to go and switch them up himself and give everyone Tony Stark appointed costumes.

He had called everyone in the compound to the main conference room. Everyone was surprised that Tony called everyone since there was nothing on the news or on the tv monitors hanging around the place, lately. He explained that he wanted to throw a Halloween bash. He started giving everyone their costumes and that their outfits will be sent to them when they get made. It was 2 weeks until Halloween. He could do it. He even thought about making them dress up as each other but after he chuckled about that he decided to go with traditional costumes.

Tony named off announcing the costumes explaining he used a generator so they won't guess he chose legitimately to give him and y/n similar matching costumes. or get annoyed if they didn't like the costumes he picked.

Steve. Sailor.

Natasha. Angel.

Y/n. Princess.

Clint. Ghost Face.

Thor. Pro Wrestler.

Peter Parker. Vampire.

Sam. Police Officer.

Scott. Devil.

Rhodey. Storm Trooper.

Wanda. Jessica Rabbit. (Mostly because of the hair)

Vision. Michael Myers.

Bucky. Werewolf.

Happy. Superman.

Loki. Plague Doctor.

and himself. Prince Charming.

It was a bit harder than he thought to give them all costumes. They all practically live in costumes. He chose the most ironic costumes he could. He however made sure he and y/N were matching. He wouldn't tell he didn't generate the costumes. Only FRIDAY knows.

Once everyone got their costumes, they're of course was arguements of why they got the costume they got. Tony rolled his eyes. "Deal with it." He smiled at y/N and went and left to go to his office. He ordered a famous designer to create the costumes except the princess one. He wanted to design that one himself.

"I can't believe I'm even coming to this party," Loki complained.

"Your face will be covered, Brother," Thor responded.

Loki groaned.

"I am stronger than any wrestler," Thor thinks. "I do not trust technology."

Steve looked at Natasha. "I considered joining the marines. I preferred to be an army soldier though."

Natasha was in shock and crossed her arms. "I am no angel. I would rather be a ninja."

Steve chuckles, "Tony's not going to change his mind."

Natasha rolled her eyes, "I blame the computer more than him."

Wanda looked to Steve and Natasha, "My costume is the most sexist outfit..."

Vision looks at her with a soft smile, "I would love to see you in that costume."

Wanda then forgets all her worries about being so sexy and caresses his cheek, "You ok with your costume babe?"

Vision nods, "I will wear whatever is given. I haven't ever celebrated Halloween before."

Wanda smiles, "Ok."

Vision tilts his head, "Who is Michael Myers?"

Wanda calmly describes the psycho to him.

Vision thinks, "I see..." He said that a lot.

Scott looks to Clint, "I'm just glad to be a part of this team."

Clint nodded, "I was going to take my kids trick-or-treating this year..."

Scott laughed, "Well maybe it won't be on actual Halloween."

Clint nodded, "Hope so." He wasn't too fond of his costume. The devil? Really? He disapproved.

Natasha looked at Clint, "Really? you think you got it bad? I've never worn a dress before. A white one at that."

"Computers aren't against you," Happy interrupted Nat and Clint.

Happy liked the idea of being Superman. Finally, he is a superhero like everyone else around him.

Happy looked at Peter who was over excited for being invited to his first Avenger/Tony/"Adult" party. "Are you alright kid?"

Peter nods and flops down on the couch. "Oh yeah. I am excited! I also love that Tony is making our costumes. He always makes me great costumes. You think I can invite MJ? and/or Ned? Do you think Mr. Stark would mind?"

Happy shrugged, "I don't think he would mind."

Bucky was quiet standing in a corner not caring either which way. but trying to think of what a werewolf costume would look like.

Rhodey thought a storm trooper would be cool. Star Wars is a classic afterall.

Sam was neutral about his outfit. He didn't care one way or another about being a police officer. He was trying to imagine himself in it. He could be a police officer. He loved helping people and saving the day. He felt like a police officer anyway. Just with the metal wings.

y/N was being quiet. She was worried now that her costume wouldn't fit once Tony gives it to her. Talk about embarassing. She hurriedly rushed up to her room to avoid anyone else. She wasn't an insecure person since middle school. She was surprised her confidence was currently faltering.

"Looks like the computer thinks you and I should match," She bumps into Tony.

"Tony... I didn't see you... sorry," y/n told him.

"Are you alright?" Tony arched his brow.

"I was wondering if... maybe I could pick my own costume. I mean I'll still be a princess... I just..."

"What are you afraid of... you don't want to match with me?"

"Tony... I'm not feeling well. I am going to my room," She left.

"Hmm... hey... y/N, wait!" Tony didn't understand why she wasn't happy or glad they matched.

She looked in the mirror and immediately went to bed after sighing loudly. She needed to get her mind off of the party. She wasn't even happy that she was even invited to one of the biggest shen-digs of the year.

She was very quiet during her work the following days. Tony was concerned. He had FRIDAY keep an eye on her for him. She was just anxious and didn't try to keep up with him anymore. She wasn't even wearing heels anymore.

The costumes came in from the designer. Tony already had everyone's measurements so he had sent them out. He didn't have y/n's so he tried scientifically to decide the size of her costume. She would never tell him or let him near her with a measuring tape. She would rather disappear than have ANY of the Avenger's Family know her size, especially Tony. She had a crush on her boss. Who wouldn't? He was Tony Freaking Stark. Tall, dark, handsome, rich, smart, and a superhero.

Everyone is glad how their costumes turned out. They fit just right and were amazing. Tony definitely appreciated the styles and the designs worth every penny. Everyone was happy with their costumes.

The night of the party y/n didn't come to the party hall. He went to her room and knocked on the door. She was crying on the edge of her bed with the dress in her lap, makeup running down her cheeks. "Why aren't you dressed?"

"I can't fit it."

"W... did you try it on?" She shrugs then sighs and shakes her head. "No..."

Tony just stared at her. "O....k. Come on I'll help you. If I have to wear poofy sleeves you have to wear the poofy dress."

She blushed nodding and stood up and he helped her dress into her costume, sucking in her stomach as much as she could so he doesn't see her 'girth'.

As a Prince and Princess, Tony and the reader smiling

"You look sexy in that costume," Tony smiled softly at her.

She blushed deep, "You're drunk and that's inappropriate Mr. Stark..."

"Call me Tony. Please... You've been here for 6 months... You're always with me. You know me better than anyone... You have pretty hair, y/n... and such soft, delicate figure... You are so beautiful. Now will you come downstairs and be with me at the party?"

She giggled, "We are at the party."

He smiled, "I made sure we matched."

"What...really?"

He nodded, "I wanted to be with you. I chose all the costumes. The generator was just me. Don't tell." He laughed. "You are my date on purpose."

y/N's eyes widened, "You wanted me to look like a giant marshmallow?"

Tony looked offended, "I wanted you to be mine."

"Wait... like me... and you?"

"Me and you..."

"What why? I'm not as hot as the other women you..."

"NEVER say you are less than anyone else. Where's the y/N I am used to that doesn't care what others think about how she looks? and Especially bimbos from my past. They don't matter. It's the past. This is the future." He takes her hand and puts a palm against her palm and smiles down at her.

" You know... you are such a catch. I'm attracted to you and all your beauty and snark. Yeah, I notice you. You have an old timey type of beauty like a princess... and I am your Prince. Well, I would call myself a King. You do everything for me. You know me better than anyone has ever..."

"He is so egotistical," Bucky said.

Tony rolled his eyes. "She is a Queen. My queen; not a princess."

Steve smiled soft. "She is sweet as can be. Princess was a perfect outfit for her. She better watch out for him. He will corrupt her." He laughs.

y/n grinned wide at Tony insecurities all gone and leans up and kisses him. "My Tony?"

"My y/N..." Tony kisses back passionately.

Everyone claps.

#avengers #tony stark #plus size reader #tony stark x reader #avengers halloween #halloween #stark #marvel

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dameronology · 3 years

Text

insomnia {poe dameron} - 5

summary: as you & finn go about finding secrets on your commander, you have to decide what’s more important - your loyalty to the resistance, or your loyalty to poe {series masterlist}

warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of injury

enjoy!! i shall be going back to do the taglist in the morning because i am ✨exhausted✨

- jazz

Poe’s faced out to the front of the base, which meant they were often flooded with light. Being woken up by the golden sun beating down on your face quickly became one of your favourite parts of spending the night with him - aside from the obvious of his presence, of course. With your limbs tangled together under the sheets, his arms around your waist and face pressed into your shoulder, it was hard not to smile immediately after stirring. It might have been the first time in months that either of you actually got some sleep and not stayed up all night working. Things had a funny way of working out.

You woke up on Friday morning with a few butterflies in your tummy - not because of Poe, but rather because you were about to lie to him.

After confirming the plan for your little mission with Finn the night before, you were supposed to be leaving the base just after noon. The pilot in question hadn’t seemed too phased when his best friend and...well, whatever you were were both suddenly available at the same time. You’d said that you had a team meeting with the rest of Trident Squadron, and Finn had made up something about having plans with Rey. You felt beyond guilty at the prospect of keeping the truth from Poe but there was too much at risk. If he found out, he’d want to act on it immediately - too quickly and too irrationally. Of course, there was no guarantee of that, but if anyone could predict his behaviour, it was you and Finn. The even bigger if was lying in how much was at risk; Winslow being a double-agent to an external organisation could have proven to be the downfall of the Resistance. You had a duty and a loyalty.

‘Good morning.’ Poe pressed a soft kiss to the back of your neck, his grip on your waist tightening as he hugged you to his chest. ‘D’you sleep okay?’

You turned around to press to face him, a sleepy smile on your features. ‘Better than usual.’

‘Who woulda thought?’ He said. ‘So many sleepless nights, and all we needed was each other.’

‘The fact you have a bigger bed and nicer quarters sure helps as well.’ You teased.

‘So you’re using me for my status?’ Poe over-dramatically clutched his chest.

‘Even the notion is insulting, Dameron.’ You grinned. ‘Anyways, I hate to ruin the moment but I have to get ready for that...meeting’

‘I hate that Winslow makes you have meetings on Fridays.’ He grumbled. ‘It’s the one morning I have off.’

Okay, that hurt your chest a little bit. It was hard enough as it was to find moments alone with Poe, hence why you’d taken to staying in his quarters pretty much every night since you’d first kissed. It was literally the only time you had to yourselves, especially since you’d both started to fall into a normal sleeping pattern. Part of you missed the long nights you’d spent together in the hangar, when it had just been you and him and several cups of caff, or when you’d sneak into the Falcon and head out to Yavin-4. That’s not to say they were gone completely, but your relationship had changed, and so had the things you did together.

Still, you wouldn’t have changed how things had progressed for the world. He was starting to become everything to you.

‘It’s only this week.’ You ran a comforting hand through his hair. ‘Next week, I’m all yours.’

‘Every day?’

‘Every day that I can be.’ You smiled. ‘Depends on how badly you ruin your fleet on that mission on Monday. The less damage, the less time I spend fixing the fucking things.’

‘Then I suppose we just shouldn’t go.’ Poe heartily sighed. ‘I’ll message Snap and get him to pass the message on-’

‘- Poe.’ You groaned. His brown eyes creased into a smile, clearly entertained by the whole thing.

‘So you’re saying I shouldn’t ditch an important mission to spend more time with you?’ He teased. ‘Maybe I’m not such a bad influence on you after all.’

‘Considering that I’m laying in bed with you at 10AM when we know full well that the General wanted us in the hangar two hours ago is proof that you very much are.’ You reminded him.

‘Leia doesn’t care.’ He murmured, nuzzling his head into your shoulder. ‘She’s so here for young love.’

‘At the expense of us being late to everything?’ You raised an eyebrow.

‘I’m sure her and Han Solo did the same.’

‘Have you seen a young Han Solo?’ You teased. ‘I would have left the entire Rebellion if that man asked me to.’

Poe let out an oof, raising his head to glare at you. ‘So your type must be cocky, handsome pilots?’

‘You might be into something.’

‘I don’t blame you.’ He replied. ‘He was very good looking.’

‘I know - and I do really need to get going.’ You pressed a kiss to his jaw.

‘When will your meeting be done?’

‘It’s Winslow, so probably hours.’ You lied with ease. Maybe too much. ‘I’ll drop you a message when I’m done.’

Kijimi wasn’t that far out - you and Finn could have been back in a matter of hours. It all It all came down to what Winslow was up to and how long you’d have to follow her for. Perhaps choosing to use a meeting as your alibi hadn’t been the brightest idea, especially if you were going to be out all day. You already hated lying to Poe and the prospect of digging the deception even further made your chest tight. Things between you were good but they were still so fresh. So fragile. You didn’t want to fuck it up - but you couldn’t let this go.

You promised yourself that you would tell him if you found anything out. In fact, he’d probably be the first person. You were only keeping it from him for now because you had his best interests at heart, right?

‘Or, you could stay for ten more minutes.’ Poe pressed a kiss to your cheek.

‘Five.’

‘Fifteen?’

‘Fine.’

Finn didn’t look all too pleased that you were late - especially when you skidded round the corner of the air hangar, hair still dripping wet from the shower and boot laces untied. He was leant against the side of a jet, eyes glued to his watch and his brows furrowed. You were only twenty minutes late; Poe was very convincing, and when you paired that with the guilt you were already feeling, it hadn’t been hard to keep you trapped for the better part of thirty minutes. Trapped was a strong word, actually, because staying glued to him and partaking in some kind of bogus teenage makeout session had very much been a choice.

‘Sorry, sorry, sorry!’ You almost tripped over a strewn wire as you bolted towards him. ‘I lost track of time!’

Finn jumped at your voice, taking you by the shoulders as you neared him. ‘We need to move quickly. There’s a training session in here in fifteen minutes-’’

‘- how did you even get the jet?’ You asked, almost stumbling as he dragged you up the walkway of a semi-decent freighter. It was no Falcon, but it would do. ‘And what is he doing here?’

Threepio turned to look at you, as if to say I beg your fucking pardon?

‘We need someone to get Winslow on record if she says anything dodgy.’ Finn murmured to you. ‘But he thinks this is an official mission, so don’t say anything.’

‘Right.’ You muttered back. ‘How you doing, Threepio?’

‘My joints are rusting-’

‘- we don’t have time for this.’ Finn cut him off. ‘We gotta get going. You okay doing comms?’

‘Yes, sir.’

You both scurried onto the jet, taking your respective seats; you in the pilot’s seat (naturally) and Finn to your left, ready to take the gunner’s seat if necessary - though you both hoped it wouldn’t be. It normally would have taken two pilots to fly a ship this big but you had enough experience to manage, even if your heart hurt a little at the fact it would have been perfect to have Poe right next to you. The guilt of leaving him out - not only of your little adventure, but the knowledge of it too - had been slowly eating at you since you’d left his room. How bad was it to lie so early on in the relationship? Fuck, was that even what this was? The feeling of dread in your stomach had grown now, lingering in your gut and leaving your hands shaking and heart pounding.

Dropping your hands into your lap with defeat, you fell back against the pilot’s seat with a hefty sigh. The Resistance meant a lot to you, but maybe Poe meant more.

‘Finn, I don’t think I can do this.’ You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to fight back the tears that were forming in your eyes.

‘Hey, it’s okay.’ He put a comforting hand on your shoulder. ‘I know going against Winslow is hard but-’

‘- it’s not Winslow.’ You spun your chair to face him. ‘It’s Poe. I can’t lie to him.’

‘We’re not lying.’ Finn replied. ‘I mean...yeah, we are but only to protect him throwing himself into something that we don’t know is for certain. Once Poe has an idea in his head, that’s it. We need to be patient with this and that’s one thing he can’t do.’

It was a little harsh, but Finn was right. Poe was a brilliant pilot and an excellent commander but he sometimes short-wired between thinking and acting. It was a whole lot of the second without much of the first. Sometimes, it worked out - high risk and high reward and all that - but this time, you couldn’t risk it.

‘You’re right.’ You nodded. ‘Thank you - and sorry, I guess.’

‘Don’t be.’ Finn shook his head. ‘We should get this in the air before someone sees us.’

Knocking the engines to full blast, you pulled back on the yoke. There was a split second of nothing, before the jet suddenly shot forward, leering away from the docking station and out of the hangar entrance. It was shaky for a minute - after all, you hadn’t flown it before - but you managed to balance out the thrusters by the time the base was but a dot in the distance. Most of it was second nature to you, and you barely even had to think about it. You could have flown in your sleep.

‘Right.’ You murmured to yourself, tapping in the coordinates that Finn had messily scrawled down. ‘Jumping to hyperspace in 3...2..1…’

You were both thrown backwards as the ship leapt forward, the passing stars in front of you vortexing into a blur of black and white as it spun into a maelstrom of time and space. It was pretty smooth, aside from Threepio complaining about how much he hated flying. You wouldn’t have expected anything else.

‘Kijimi isn’t too far.’ You said. ‘Forty minutes tops, maybe. I know the routes to avoid First Order fleets but I need you to be vigilant.’

‘Did the General not provide a list of First Order schedules?’ Threepio asked. ‘It’s a requirement for all missions. She wouldn’t have approved the mission without - oh no.’

‘You’re onto something, Threepio.’ You tried to fight back a smile. It wasn’t funny...but it kind of was. ‘But don’t worry. Nobody needs to know, okay?’

‘The General needs to know!’ He cried. ‘We’re doomed! Oh, we’re doomed!’

‘Finn.’ You groaned. ‘Can you shut him up?’

‘Shut me up?! I have a right to voice my opinion, especially on matters concerning illegal missions!’

‘I’m the captain of the ship, right? Technically?’ You glanced over your shoulder at him. ‘Is it not within your protocol to do as I say?’

‘Yes, but-’

‘- then it’s settled.’ You said. ‘Just man the comms system and everything will be fine.’

Threepio didn’t say anything after that, instead settling down into his seat, wired up to the comms system. Your main focus was on speed; on getting the jet to Kijimi as quick as possible and getting out as quick as possible. That was pretty much your main purpose, since Finn had sorted out the rest. Obviously, you were going to help him, but your main heist title was getaway driver. He was the brains, and by default, that must have left Threepio as the brawns. Maker.

‘Oh, we have incoming communication!’ The droid spoke up after a few minutes.

‘From who?’ You frowned.

‘Commander Dameron. I’ll pass you over.’

‘Threepi - oh, shit.’

You froze, immediately losing your words when Poe’s voice came over your headset. Maybe informing the droid of Poe’s ignorance to the entire fucking situation would have been a good idea, in hindsight. Heck, seeing who was manning the air traffic control back at base would have been even brighter. The one person you didn’t want to see you leave was the one person whose job was to do that literal thing. Weren’t you and Finn supposed to be good strategists?

‘What do I do?’ You mouthed to Finn with wide eyes. ‘What do I say?’

His eyes were like dinner plates too. ‘I don’t know!’

‘This is Commander Dameron. I need your I.D number and purpose for leaving the base, because I don’t have you on file as authorised.’

‘Shit.’ You hissed. Clamping a hand over the mouthpiece, you looked over at your comrade again, as if he’d come up with a magical plan in the three seconds since you’d last asked. ‘A little help?’

‘Lie!’

‘Right, thanks.’ You hissed.

What choice did you have now? Poe would recognise your voice. You had no option other than to come clean. You took a deep breath, before removing your hand from the mic.

‘My I.D number is 102156 and...we don’t have authorisation.’

‘Babe?’ Poe’s immediate confusion was like a tiny little knife in your chest, which went perfectly with all the ones that were already there. ‘Who’s we?’

‘Heeeeey, honey.’ You couldn’t help but cringe at your own words. ‘We is me, Finn and Threepio.’

‘What’s going on? I thought you were in a meeting-’

‘- I lied.’ You didn’t bother trying to come up with an excuse. ‘It’s a long story. I can’t explain it right now.’

‘You lied?’ The words rolled off his tongue with a tone of disbelief. ‘The hell is going on?’

Finn was sitting beside you, teeth clamped onto his fist as he cringed at the conversation. Easy for him. He wasn’t the one who’d just been thrown head first into piercing cold water by a clueless droid. You were the one who had to explain the deceit to a kicked puppy.

‘Like I said, I can’t explain it right now.’ You let out a heavy sigh.

‘You’ve stolen a jet without authorization and left base for the outer rim without asking. Do you know how serious that is?’ Poe’s tone was harsh.

You couldn’t help but scoff at that. ‘Poe Dameron, do not lecture me on breaking the rules.’

‘Fine - let’s look at it from this angle: you and my best friend both lied to me so that you could sneak out without telling me.’

Yeah, he had you there.

‘You’re making that sound like something way worse than it is.’ You shot back. ‘I will tell you everything as soon as we land, okay? Can you trust me on that?’

‘I don’t think I can.’

‘Look, Finn...knows something. He overheard something. We’re just going to check it out to find out if the thing we think we know is really the thing we think we know.’ You explained, grip on the yoke tightening. ‘We didn’t want to tell you in case it turned out to be nothing.’

‘You...you didn’t want to tell me?’ He sounded completely deflated.

‘Shit.’ You murmured. ‘Can you just trust me on this, please?’

‘The same way that you trusted me?’

‘It’s not that.’ You snapped. ‘It’s just...we didn’t want you to go running head first into an uncertain situation where you could get hurt.’

‘It’s funny, because you just described exactly what’s happened between you and me.’

With that, his line cut to silence.

So, in some ways the mission was a success.

To keep a long story short: Winslow was a rat. A huge, fucking rat. She’d been selling secrets to Finn’s former commander (who had some pretty cool armour) for months. With the right amount of bullying coaxing, Threepio had caved and recorded a conversation between them - you’d had to hide behind some crates to get within proximity to pick it up, but the audio was good enough to prove her guilt. That was the main thing. You’d done what you’d gone to do.

But at what cost?

Thanks to a shootout with some stormtroopers, Threepio was now missing his left arm and you’d lost your blaster in the escape. Finn had managed to sustain a blaster graze on his right shoulder, and you were probably in need of stitches on your forehead. All in a day’s work, really.

‘I’m gonna take Threepio down to mechanics then head down to medical.’ Finn gently said; he stuck out his hand to help you leap off the ship, shutting the door behind you. ‘D’you wanna come?’

‘Uh, no thanks.’ You shook your head. ‘I have work to do in here. The Y-Wings are still out, and Winslow will be on my ass once she’s also back.’

‘So...same time tomorrow to talk about what the fuck we’re gonna do about this whole thing?’

‘Sure thing.’ You said. ‘I’m gonna give Poe some space for tonight, but do me a favour...don’t tell him about what we found out. It’s better if it comes from me.’

‘Of course.’ He nodded with a smile. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘See ya, Finn.’

Him and Threepio headed for the door, leaving you alone with nothing but your thoughts and a few broken jets. The wound on your forehead had stopped bleeding enough, so you could leave it for a few hours. It wasn’t exactly wise, but it felt a little too late in the day for that. You’d been looking at wise in the rear view mirror a long, long time ago.

Sighing to yourself, you shrugged off your orange flight suit, tossing it in the cupboard and exchanging it for your tool box. It was coming up to midnight, so you’d been gone the entire day. Tired was simply the tip of the iceberg, and yet the idea of sleeping alluded you completely. You were used to working like this, and it would at least keep your mind off of Poe for a few hours.

He just needed time, right? That’s what you kept telling yourself, even though there was a feeling of dread in your gut that told you otherwise, that you’d fucked it up completely. You weren’t sure you could even handle that idea. Poe had become so important to you in such a short period of time that your brain - and your heart - couldn’t quite handle it. It was rare that you found somebody so special.

Tossing a rag over your shoulder, you pulled open the fuse box, barely masking a sigh at how fried they were. Maybe it was karmic punishment for what you’d done. Yeah, that was definitely it. You’d lied, and now the universe was coming back to bite you in the ass. On the bright side, Winslow’s days at the Resistance were limited now, which meant the same applied to the restrictions she’d placed on you. That was a nice thought; working with Finn, working with Rey, working with Poe.

Y’know, if he ever spoke to you again.

‘Caff?’

You glanced up from the fuse box, turning around to see the pilot, two cups of coffee in hand. Speak of the Dameron and thou shall appear.

‘Hey.’ You quietly greeted him.

‘How long have you been back?’ He asked, taking a seat on an upturned crate.

‘Couple hours, maybe.’ You took the cup from his hand. ‘I wanted to give you a couple hours to...stew.’

‘There’s nothing to stew about. You lied to me.’

‘I didn’t want to.’ You stressed, taking a seat beside him. ‘Can I at least try to explain?’

‘I...I don’t know if I want to hear it.’ His brown eyes moved up from the floor, holding you in a strangling gaze. ‘You broke my trust. You went behind my back with my best friend-’

‘- maker, Poe!’ You cut him off. ‘You’re making it sound like I slept with him!’

He grimaced, before dusting off his legs and standing up. ‘It’s the fact you lied to me with such fucking ease. About the meeting, about being busy-’

‘- if you would let me explain-’

‘- there’s nothing to explain.’ He snapped. ‘Lies are lies.’

‘Don’t act so high and mighty!’ You shot back. ‘It’s not like you’ve never lied before!’

‘Not to people I love!’

‘I - you fucking what?’

You both froze.

Had Poe just confessed his love for you? It sure sounded like it, but...it wasn’t a big deal, right? You were fine. He was fine. This was fine. Well, not really, because neither of you were sure if you were exchanging heartfelt feelings right now or y’know, breaking up, but...he loved you. Poe Dameron loved you.

On second thoughts, maybe you weren’t fine.

‘Winslow is dirty.’ You suddenly blurted. ‘That’s why Finn and I followed her. We wanted to be sure it was certain before we told anyone and now we have solid evidence on her.’

‘Winslow is dirty?’

‘Yeah. Selling secrets to the First Order.’ You nodded breathlessly. ‘Also, I love you too.’

‘You do?’

‘I do.’

‘Cool.’

Before you could say anything else, Poe grabbed you by the arm and yanked you towards him, knocking your caff to the ground. With an arm around your waist and the other on the back of your neck, he crashed his lips onto yours in a breathless kiss. You tangled a hand in his hair, smiling at the feel of the soft curls and the taste of peppermint and coffee. It was a little hard not to be obsessed with him.

‘I’m sorry I lied.’ You murmured, resting your forehead against his.

‘Just..promise me you’ll drag me along on all illegal expeditions in future?’ He whispered, breath tickling your lips.

‘Absolutely.’ You smiled. ‘I promise.’

He didn’t normally let go of things like that so easily - being lied to, in his book, was one of the worst things a person could do. But, now he knew the context, he was a little more inclined to understand your reasoning. And your declaration of love probably had something to do with it too, because with it had come the realisation that nothing else in the world mattered. There wasn’t a single thing more important than you.

‘Finn and I are meeting here in the morning to talk about what we’re gonna do.’ You said. ‘You’ll come, right?’

‘I think I need to be mad at Finn a little longer-’

‘- Poe.’ You groaned. ‘We’re good, right?’

‘We are.’

‘So you two should be as well!’

‘You just declared your love for me, followed by one of the greatest kisses of my life.’ He reminded you. ‘How could we not be good?’

‘I’ll get Finn to do the same!’ You grinned.

‘He did it long before you did.’ Poe teased. ‘But fine. I understand where you’re coming from, and I guess he’s in the same place.’

‘Exactly.’ You beamed.

‘I just have one condition.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Say it again.’

You bit your lip, before smiling wider. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

{taglist: @interwebseriesfan24 @agent-catfish-kenobi @multifandomlife22 @thescarletknight2014 @aesthetically-bii @chr0nicbackpain @princessxkenobi @lostgirlheather @aliciaxglasgow @ohhellokenobi @cherrykenobi @asaucecoveredsomething @witchyavenger @softly-sad @smiithys @goblins-writing @dameronstyles}

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #star wars x you #star wars imagine #star wars x y/n #star wars imagines #star wars x reader #poe dameron angst #poe dameron fluff #star wars angst #star wars fluff

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nanyoky · 3 years

Text

@essayofthoughts asked for:

"Perc'ahlia babe and also Vaxleth and Pikelan"

Mwahahaha...

Perc'ahlia:

Who’s the messiest one: I mean it depends. Cuz Percy has a place for every little thing. But when he's mid project it tends to turn into organized chaos. Vex may occasionally leave things lying around if she's tired or distracted.

Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA: definitely Percy, but it's less uncomfortable and more "easily flustered." Like it's just something he's accepted. Vex gunna smooch. Percy gunna blush.

Who’s the funniest drunk: Percy. Cuz he has the same attitude, but he's struggling to take off his socks for bed like "what a- a- idiotic invenshuhh..... Fucking.... Stuplid..... Imma make em better... Make... Sock....better...." While Vex is equally drunk but still doing her four step skincare routine like "yes dear"

Who texts the most: probably Vex. Anything between conversational back and forth, long rambling but deep trains of thought and "LOOK AT THIS DOG I MET"

Who has the most embarrassing taste in music: hmm probably Percy but only in like a "parody of himself" kinda way. Nothing but a mix of chamber orchestra and emo music. Which aren't all that bad on their own, but he is a hashtag Byronic Posh Boi and so of COURSE that's all he listens to. Vex has cool(tm) tastes in music. Even if a song or artist wasn't cool (tm) before, it becomes cool(tm) once she likes it.

Who reads the most: I mean Percy. Not that Vex doesn't read, but he big nerd.

Who’s better with kids: ooo boy that's A QUESTION for some canonical parents, huh? I'm going to say Percy, just because I feel like Vex is a parent who can get overwhelmed sometimes and not know how to handle needy kids when she's running on empty (feel like I should say this does not make a person a bad parent- just that as a kid it's hard to understand that adults get tired). Meanwhile Percy has a natural tone that suggests what he's saying is fact, so if he's too tired for high energy toddlers he's just like "sitting by the fire drinking tea is a very fun game" and the bbs just climb into his lap like "you're right being quiet and snuggly is very fun" while Vex watches like "HOW."

Who’s the one that fixes things around the house: Percy's a good good tinker boi

Who’s got the weirdest hobby: listen one of them invented firearms and the other has a pet bear it's a toss up.

Who cooks and who cleans up: Both are what you might call... Functional cooks. Nothing to write home about, but they get the job done. But Percy excels more at baking (structured, exacting) and Vex is better at more loosely defined things like soups and sauces. Cleaning up is a duo activity and a nice part of their evening wind down.

Vaxleth:

Who’s the messiest one: deffo Keyleth. Houston we have a hoarder. She gets emotionally attached to everything, and saves up little bits and bobs of things for crafting and home diy projects all the time.

Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA: probably Keyleth, but it's in like- the most Social Anxiety way possible. It's not so much that she's uncomfortable, it's that she gets worried that being snuggly or kissing will make others uncomfortable.

Who’s the funniest drunk: oh that's a hard one. Cuz we've seen them both be high quality drunks, (ie day drinking queen and "heterosexuality is fake and magic is just the fucking best????????"). I'd say Vax because I feel like he's more likely to insist he's not that drunk and doesn't need anyone to look after him, and therefore will get into more shananigans/flirt more

Who texts the most: another toughie. Probably Vax, in a similar style to Vex.

Who has the most embarrassing taste in music: they both have the same issue as Percy, in that their tastes are just a parody of themselves. Vax has three categories of favorite music: sad emo boy, sexy alt boy, and rebellious 90s girl. And then Keyleth is just unironically into the softest cheesiest music you've ever heard on the soundtrack to a chick flick. We're talking Jewel here, folks. Also retro oldies cuz Homeschooled Vibes. I'm going to say Vax tho, cuz he's the one who gets emotional about it, while Keyleth is just a casual listener. And he listens to more of her music than she does his. She'll send him the Live at the Troubadour recording of Kelly Clarkson's Sober and he responds back like "??? Why would you send me this??? At 10am on a Tuesday??? When I have things to do??? Now I'm crying on the bus?????" And she's just "glad you liked it! :D"

Who reads the most: probably Vax. He gets deep into reading in attempts to find less self destructive ways of getting out of his head.

Who’s better with kids: hm I'm gunna say Vax on this one because Keyleth has a tendency to try too hard with everyone and was also an only child who was forced into very structured time while growing up cuz expectations. Vax has more clear memories of actually just being a kid when the twins were with their mom, so he can relate easier. That being said they're both pretty good, as we see with that kid Simon, a scene that will HAUNT ME FOREVER.

Who’s the one that fixes things around the house: def keyleth. DIY queen. Vax just gets frustrated and is like "let's just buy a new one"

Who’s got the weirdest hobby: hmmm. Keyleth has A LOT of hobbies, but Vax def will do parkour, just cuz. Like he may have started back when he was still kind of a criminal, but now he doesn't have a practical excuse and he doesn't even like- record it or anything so there's no point to it. He just sees urban environments and goes "gotta jump. Gotta climb. Just gotta."

Who cooks and who cleans up: Keyleth has got prep on lock. Gardening. Hunting and trapping. Gathering. Cleaning and dressing and chopping. She's got this. It's adding fire to things where she starts having trouble. Vax picks things up from there just fine though, and covers dishes and such on the back end.

Pikelan:

Who’s the messiest one: Pike. Pike. Pike. Having a perma-home at last means she gets comfy, which means you can usually not see the bedroom floor. Scanlan is scandalized.

Who’s the one that fixes things around the house: Scanlan tries. He likes the idea of being helpful with domestic stuff and not just a goofus who's just around for the fun parts of being together. Unfortunately he's never really lived anywhere long enough to get good at household repair, and it takes him way too long to do anything. Pike is pretty handy, but gets so busy that she'll just put up with something being broken for weeks. Best case scenario is Pike shows Scanlan how to do something so the next time he can do it himself and feel accomplished and she can come home to things being fixed and give him smooches and coo over him being a handyman.

Who's the funniest drunk? Pike. "I'M TRYING TO STEALTH."

Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA: it may shock people, but Scanlan has the same "once it's serious I get bashful" disease as Vax. Pike will absolutely give his bootie a tap in line at the grocery store and he just goes bright red. He tries to laugh it off like he's still the smarmy mess everyone knows, but she teases him endlessly about it.

Who texts the most: Scanlan is an absolute "good morning," "thinking of you," "how was your day," and "goodnight" text person before they live together. After they move in together it's just text versions of his cover songs about his love for her and dank memes.

Who has the most embarrassing taste in music: we know it's Scanlan. We've heard his cover tracks. Pike has similar cool(tm) tastes as Vex.

Who reads the most: Pike is probably someone who's always on the move, so she's more an audiobook person. But Scanlan is like fully ready for the dad life. Just loving any weekend where he does nothing but sit around in flannel pj pants reading a mystery paperback.

Who’s better with kids: It's a hard one. Scanlan second guesses himself quite a bit and worries every little thing he says or does is going to become Lasting Trauma. Pike acts more chill about it, but slowly gets more and more overwhelmed until she nearly has a nervous collapse. But their opposite styles work well together and they're able to be a pretty great team.

Who’s got the weirdest hobby: I feel like Pike is someone with a weird collection. It is either something a little spooky but cool and academic, like antique medical equipment, or something horrifyingly tacky, like a thong from every city she visits. Maybe both.

Who cooks and who cleans up: this is where Scanlan is a much quicker learner about domestic stuff. Pike is a good cook, but it's usually on the move so much she doesn't have the time for meal planning and prep. Scanlan absolutely throws himself into being a house husband and gets obsessed with cooking shows. Pike insists on helping with dishes tho.

#do it for the meme #I'm so bad at doing these in a timely manner #critical role #vox machina #perc'ahlia #vaxleth #pikelan #percival fredrickstein von musel de rolo iii #vex'ahlia #vax'ildan #keyleth #Pike trickfoot #scanlan shorthalt

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talesofphantombandits · 3 years

Text

Zero to Six ~ Going Underground - Edited Version. Part 3.

Characters: Four X Zero (OC) Summary: Zero was the first person to be ‘saved’ by One, she was his first honorary Ghost. Her knowledge in tech meant she got the role of ‘Hacker’ she recruited new team members, looked for missions and locations and made sure every security measure was looked at. You know normal hacker spy stuff. But her tough up bringing meant that if needs be she could fight, she was maybe even better than some people on the team knew. But due to One’s protectiveness over her she had to stay hidden, she was more of an actual ghost than the rest of the team was. This didn’t mean she couldn’t have her fun though, over the months of being with the full team she had formed quite a passionate love/ hate relationship with the handsome Four. Who knows what sparks would fly if they were ever to meet. Warnings: Slight swearing, some suggestive flirting in later chapters.

Tagg list: (I know this is a edit of my original story but if anyone wants to be tagged let me know.) @raylan-c

Zero to Six ~ Part 1. Edited Version. Materlist.

It was exactly one month after Zero had last seen One in her flat, she had flown back home two days after the incident and hadn’t heard from him since. Apart from tickets emailed to her for Las Vegas and a hotel room that she assumed was where their next mission was going to be.

She’d flown out to Vegas a few days back, part of her was glad that she hadn’t had to converse with him. She was still incredibly upset that just the thought of hearing his voice nearly put her into a fit of rage. She kept all contact to a minimum while throwing herself fully into her research, she’d only kept in regular contact with Three and Five, although Four would randomly drop in to annoy her.

She’d woken up at about 10am, she hopped out of bed only for the purpose of making food. Once the pancakes had finished cooking she hopped back into the comfort of her bed and opened her laptop, she went back and forth eating and doing research. The next time she found herself looking at the clock it was 12:30pm, it took all of her will power to drag herself back out of bed to put her plate and utensils in the dishwasher and then into the bathroom for a shower. When she reemerged from the steaming room she was greeted by the ding that signalled she had a email.

She opened it and the first thing that caught her attention was that it was from One. Sighing she knew that she couldn’t ignore it, for it might have been something really important.

‘Meet me at the Golden Cafe down the street at 17:00 sharp, make sure to wear something that won’t draw attention to you. Wear a black cap. P.s Remember don’t say anything the others about this. -One.’

‘Don’t wear anything that will draw attention to you.’ who the hell did One think she was? She really had to calm herself down before she went to meet him. If this meeting was going to go well, she would have to have a level head around him.

“Ah Zero, you’re online. To be fair I should have guessed as you’re always online.” She slightly jumped as Fours deep voice burst through the speakers.

“Jesus Four.” She put a hand over her heart to calm herself down.

He started to laugh. “Did I startle you darling?” She huffed and plopped down on the bed next to her laptop so she could connect the earpiece and speak to him properly.

“No, I just wasn’t concentrating fully that’s all.” She glanced at the time again, It was still early she furrowed her brow confused. “What are you doing up so early anyway? I thought you always stayed up late doing dodgy stuff on the internet?”

He just scoffed at her in disbelief. “Excuse me darling, but who do you take me for?”

“She’s not wrong though is she? I think I’ve accidentally walked in on you enough times to say that, that is the truth.” Two chimed in, to which Four immediately started up his defence.

Zero just laid back in her bed and basked in the happiness that was, to her a family argument.

Four had the last word though. “Oh shut up Two! I bet you’ve seen worse, Wait a second How do you know what I’m doing on a night?”

Zero all but gasped. “Is that a confession Four? And I might have to carry out routine security checks on the bases internet. Which means looking through some of your histories.”

“Jesus woman.”

She couldn’t help but giggle at how worried Four sounded, knowing that she could see everything he searched on the internet. “Look I’m just doing my job, I’m just keeping everyone safe.”

“But you’re basically stalking me.” Four hissed.

Zero clicked her tongue. “Did you not hear me sweetie? I HAVE to look into your history for security reasons. Don’t get all shy on me now Four, plus your history isn’t even the spiciest.”

“So who’s the worst then?”

She laughed, like she was going to tell him that. “That sir, I can’t disclose.”

“You’re no fun Zero, I thought we told each other everything.” She could hear the pout in his voice and she wished she could see his adorable face.

“Oh we tell each other everything do we?” She laughed. “Then how come I didn’t know you had a marking kink?”

“LISTEN STOP STALKING ME! I SWEAR TO GOD ZERO! JUST YOU WAIT UNTIL I GET MY HANDS ON YOU I’L-” Just like that she cut off the coms laughing hysterically at Fours outburst.

Looking to the clock she noticed that she just had enough time to change and dry her hair before she had to make her way to the cafe.

When she finally made it to the cafe she spotted One straight away, he was stood by the counter. When they made eye contact he ushered her to follow him to the furthest booth in the back of the shop.

“Why did we meet here? Why didn’t you just come up to the hotel room?” She whispered as she sat down by the side of him.

“Because I’m here, and he doesn’t want me to know where he’s keeping you.” Zero’s head shot up to the second voice, she looked at one expecting him to instantly tell her who this other woman was.

But her brain finally caught up to her and it registered the accent. “Five?” She said in disbelief.

She quickly snapped back to One who seemed more interested in the phone in his hand then on the meeting. “I thought you said I couldn’t tell the others about this?”

“He asked me to help you get ready for tonight.” Five had now moved around the back of One’s chair and took a seat.

“Tonight?” Zero’s brows furred in confusion. “You mean the mission is tonight?”

“Yes.” One said still more immersed in his phone, It was starting to piss her off. “Did I not mention that in the email this morning?”

Zero gritted her teeth. “No, you made no mention that a big mission, not to mention my first ever mission would be tonight.”

Finally he peered up from his phone to see Zero angrily staring him down. “Okay look.” Finally the phone landed on the table. “It’s simple really, You’re going to be working as a bartender. Which luckily for you, you already have experience in. Serve drinks to anyone that comes up to the bar, start conversations, ask questions but most importantly listen to the conversations around you. People get drunk at these things and spill shit that their not suppose to, and so the rest of the team aren’t suspicious your coms will be off when you start your shift.”

“What will you tell them? Isn’t it going to be more suspicious that I’m not at the end of coms?” She looked between One and Five.

“It’s not really a tech based mission, I’ll just say I gave you the night off.” He shrugged.

“What about the others? Where will they be?” By that she meant where would Four be, but she wasn’t going to outright say that, not in front of One at least.

“Two and Three have their own little mission in the hotel, Seven will be taking a backseat and Four and Five will be working the floor in the club you’ll be serving.” She looked to Five at the mention of Four, her eyes lit up. “AH! Don’t even think about it, off limits Zero.”

She just scoffed at him, he acted like he was her real father sometimes. “As if I didn’t know that already, I’m not a child One. I can handle myself.”

“Yeah well I’m trusting you, don’t fuck this up Zero. Five has everything prepared for you she’s going to leave first, you wait twenty minutes then follow her to the hotel. Room 374, she’ll get you ready for tonight.”

One got up from his seat without a single sound, he nodded at both the women and then headed for the door. It wasn’t until he was out of sight that Zero looked over at Five, they just smiled at each other. With all the information she had just consumed she hadn’t even stopped to think that she was actually in the presence of one of her family members, one that wasn’t One!

“This is crazy.”

Five just smiled at her, a genuinely beautiful smile that Zero couldn’t help but return. “It’s so nice to finally put a face to the voice.” She looked down at her watch and sighed. “We shouldn’t do this here though, I’m going to leave now I’ll meet you at the hotel. Room 374 remember.”

“Got it! I’ll meet you there.” She couldn’t stop smiling as Five got up and waved her goodbye.

The twenty minutes she waited to follow Five were the longest twenty minutes she’d ever had to wait in her life, it seemed to drag on she was so nervous she had to physically hold her knee down to stop her leg from shaking.

The walk to the hotel didn’t take too long and she reached the lobby in no time, she put on the dark cap paired with some black shades. Nothing too out of the ordinary but it kept her face hidden none the less. Once she walked inside she was in awe, she’d never seen the inside of such an expensive and vast hotel. It was absolutely beautiful, she dreaded to think what a room would cost in this place. As she walked further in she lowered her glasses to get a better look at the foyer her eyes were glued to the ceiling so she didn’t know she was on a collision path with a tall beefy guy who was looking down at his phone until they hit one another and she nearly went flying. Luckily he had reacted in time and broke her fall, though her glasses weren’t so lucky.

She got up and brushed herself off. “God I’m so sorry mami!” Her head shot up at the familiar voice.

Staring back at her was Three, she quickly had to remind herself who she was and where she was. “No problem, I think we were both at fault, I was mesmerised by the ceiling and you by your phone.” The first accent that came to mind was an Irish one, so she went with it.

He just nodded in agreement and gave her a lopsided smile. “Ah! here, you dropped these.” He bent down and handed her back her sunglasses.

“Thanks, sorry again.” She smiled at him one last time then scurried off to the elevators.

Once she was secured and alone in the metal box she let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding, and sighed. This was going to be one hell of a long night. Her thoughts were interrupted when the elevator dinged, she rushed down the hall and knocked hurriedly on the door labelled 374. She had no intentions of bumping into anyone else, not even a second later Five opened the door and Zero rushed inside.

“Woah, what happened? Are you okay?” Zero moved to the couch in the room and laid down, burrowing her face in her hands.

“I just accidentally bumped into Three downstairs.” She sided eyed Five who looked at her in shock. “Don’t worry I don’t think he knew who I was, I put on an Irish accent. Don’t tell One though he’ll probably pull me from the mission if he finds out.”

Before Five could even respond to her, Zero took notice of her laptop and ear piece on the table in front of her when it started to crackle. “Hey party people, are we all ready for tonight? It’s a shame I won’t get to hear your beautiful voice in my ear tonight Zero, can’t believe that One has actually given you the night off.”

She reached out and took the earpiece. “Don’t be too sad Four, at least you’ll be able to actually concentrate on this mission.” She looked up at Five who was just giggling, It was so strange to actually be in the same room as her. Zero smiled, she could get use to this.

“Who I’m I going to piss off tonight though?” She could practically hear the pout in his voice.

“I’m sure you’ll find some beautiful girl to have on your arm and piss off the entire night.” She felt sad just thinking about it. “Well good luck team, do me proud! and don’t miss me too much.” She shut the communication line down before he could respond.

She looked up to Five as she shut the laptop and took out her ear piece, placing it on top of the laptop. She wouldn’t be needing that now for the rest of the night.

“You okay?” Five gave her a sad smile.

Zero forced herself to look completely unphased. “I’m fine, let’s go get ready.”

.....

Zero stood at the bar, Five had dressed her in black skinny jeans paired with some black Doc Marten boots, a black silk button up and a deep green velvet waistcoat. She wore a dark black wig that came down to her chest and flowed in light curls, her makeup was smoky to match the uniform. She looks professional. The venue was dark, with moody but classy lighting which meant she blended right in. The bartender role came naturally to Zero, before she was a ghost she had worked in a small bar for about two years before everything had kicked off, the events of which led her here.

She started the shift by just cleaning up glasses, serving mostly already drunk customers and listening to every word of every conversation. About five minutes early she had spotted Five enter the room with a rich looking man on her arm, she’d caught Zero’s eye from across the room and winked at her which put her at ease.

Suddenly the air in the room shifted, she couldn’t explain it but her eyes were drawn to the entrance of the club. A man walked in, his blonde hair was slicked back on the top but the sides where shaven. A tight black tux hugged his body, Zero wished she could picture this moment for the rest of her life, butterflies started to stir in her stomach.

It was Four.

#6 underground #6 underground fanfiction #6 underground four #6 underground fanfic #6 underground billy #four #four fanfiction #billy #billy fanfiction #billy x reader #billy x oc #billy x scout #four x reader #four x oc #four x zero #ben hardy #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy four

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miyaniacs · 3 years

Text

Mafia AU - Bokuto x fem!reader

A/N: AYT it’s here - took me longer than planned, but hey I wrote all of this just now lol so sorry if it’s all over the place.

Chapter 11 - The encounter

words: 2.310

warnings: uhmm maybe lowkey toxic behavior of Ushijima and Bokuto and mentions of past trauma I guess

Chapter 10 - Jealous? Index ; masterlist

Sunday 10am

“Today four dead bodies have been found, in west Tokyo. All four of them are yet to be identified. Apparently the bodies are in such a horrible state, making it hard to identify them, we spare all of you with any further details.

The police asks for any witnesses or anyone missing someone (…)”

With a big sigh you fell backwards resting your body on Bokutos chest.

You knew exactly who did this and ohh how badly you want to text him, making sure if he’s okay. You knew that you’re the reason those four men lost their life… well no. It’s their fault, it’s just your fault that Ushijima was so brutal.

“What’s wrong princess?” Bokutos arms wrap around our waist and he nuzzles his face in your neck.

“Nothing…” you sigh. You feel his soft lips gazing over your skin, his breath tickling you as he lets out a sigh himself.

“Princess… you know you can trust me right?” You can feel him pout against your skin.

“Yes I do Kou…” you shift in his arms and face him. His big golden eyes practically stare into your soul. “I just don’t know what to do when I sit in his lecture tomorrow.” You look down on your hands, which are currently fiddling with his shirt. His eyes soften and he presses a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Y/n. You don’t have to go to his class tomorrow.” He suggests, “I’d be way more save for you to not go to university at all.” He says and softly combs his fingers through your hair, getting stuck in all the countless knots he caused last night while…, having fun with you.

“Kouu… that would be way too suspicious, also I need to go to his class.. I need to pass it to start my last semester next year.” You whine and hide your face in his neck. Bokuto pulls you closer to him, resting his chin on your head and rubbing your back.

“I’ll think of something okay?” He mumbles and kisses your head.

Monday 9am

You sit in Bokutos car and look down at your bag. Your class, with Professor Ushijima, starts in 15 minutes.

Are you actually excited to see him again? Yes.

You grab your bag, about to open the door when you hear Bokuto turn off the car. Confused you turn around and look at him. He smiles brightly at you.

“Guess who’s a guest student for a few weeks now!” He beams. It takes all of your strength to keep up a happy face now.

Guest student? That means he’ll be in probably all your classes for now on… which means you get no chance to talk to Ushijima and get any information on what they are planning to do … nor will you be able to be close to him again. All of your plans crumble down in front of your eyes while you watch Bokuto get out of the car and walking around the car to open your door.

“Nawww you’re so happy you lost your voice?” He teases and waits for you to get out. You just nod, your brain working on any kind of plan to throw Bokuto off.

“Are… are you mad at me?” He suddenly asks and takes your hands in his, looking directly in your eyes. “I just wanted to make sure you’ll be save.” He mumbles and starts playing with your fingers.

“No.. No - I’m not mad at you! I’m just overwhelmed.” You force out a smile, but sadly, he’s got way too good at reading you. His head drops and he looks at you with his puppy eyes. “I’m so sorry. I should have know that it would come off as too… controlling and observing… and untrusting. Please. Y/n. You know I trust you right? I just want the best for you… and for you to be save.” He says dejected.

“Kou… I know you do. I just … I- “ you stutter before he interrupts you. “I know, you need your space. Let me cancel being a student here… just… please text me so I know you’re okay.” He lets go of your hands and forces a smile. Without an idea what has gotten over you, you grab his arm and say: “No. Please don’t. I don’t mind spending more time with you.”

Why do you always got make your life more difficult than it has to be.

Here you are now, next to Bokuto, fingers interlaced, while you walk to the lecture.

Monday 10am

It’s pure torture.

First of all you can’t concentrate on anything due to all the girls around you gossiping about Ushijima OR Bokuto.

Also Ushijima isn’t really found of the sight of you sitting next to Bokuto right in front of him, which makes him exposing you in front of the whole class with asking you questions, you can not answer simply to the fact that 1. Everyone around you is talking about how hot your two love interests are and 2. Bokutos hand is casually resting on your thigh and 3. The tone in Ushijima’s voice is reminding you of … different scenarios.

Yes, Bokuto and your best friends are trying to help you out, yet nothing goes unnoticed by the great Ushijima.

After 2 hours your torture ended.

Or so you thought.

“Y/n. I need to talk to you, please wait in front of my office.”

You sink down in your seat again and close your eyes. Has he been doing all the exposing just to have a valid reason to talk to you in private?

“Princes, hey, come on let’s go.” Bokuto grabs your arms and pulls you up.

Your friends already left for their next lecture, so now it’s only you and him again.

“Hey.. you’re not going to him.” He says in a demanding voice, making you look up at him in surprise. You’re still not used to see him with that much authority.

“I’m not sure if it’s a good idea… maybe he needs to talk to me?” You assume.

“Well… and what if he simply tries to kill you?” He says and stops walking, looking down at you.

“And what if he doesn’t?” You say and look directly in his eyes.

Bokuto narrows his eyes, but you hold still and after a few seconds he huffs: “Fine. But I’ll come with you.”

You smile at him and grab his collar pulling him down to place a quick kiss on his lips. “Deal.”

Monday 11:55am

The air in Ushijimas office is as thick as it can get. Bokuto and him are standing in front of each other, arms crossed, having what seems to be a starring contest.

“Uhm.. so you-“ you begin getting annoyed of the two of them.

“NO!” They say in union.

Rolling your eyes you sit down in one of the chairs and look at them with a raised eyebrow.

“Well… if you keep on starring at each other I can just leave so you can do whatever you want to do.” You suggest- finally catching their attention as both look at you.

“Stop talking as if we’re still friends.” Ushijima says harshly at you and you flinch at his raised voice.

Right. You forgot. They want to kill you. You’re betraying them. Get your act up Y/n.

Sinking down in the chair you look up at Ushijima.

Gosh, you really never wan him to be really mad at you.. you know he’s just acting right now, he’d never actually hurt you, yet you feel relived as Bokuto steps in your view, shielding you from him.

“Touch her and you’re dead.” He hisses, his voice now dangerously low.

“Pff, why would I ever lay a finger on her again. She isn’t worth me killing her.” Your heart stings at Ushijima’s words, but he’s still not finished. “I just wanted to warn you.” He laughs.

“Warn who?” Bokuto asks.

“You.”

“Of what?”

“Well… let’s just say, you and your gang aren’t as secretive as you should be.” He smiles arrogantly and takes a step back, opening the way to the door.

“Leave now.” He grumbles, “Oh and Bokuto - hope you have fun with that hoe.” He growls and before you or Ushijima can react, Bokutos fist already collides with Ushijimas face.

“Call her a hoe one more time.” Bokuto hisses, his whole aura sifting on full on Mafia mode, there’s nothing left of the sweet loving Bokuto you’re used to see. When you look at him now, you can truly see how tall and muscular he is, his eyes carrying a dangerous deadly glint in them, his hand still in a fist, his knuckles slightly red form the force of the punch.

Ushijima just laughs, holding his face where Bokutos fist hit him. “And what are you doing then? Huh? I’m just telling the truth. She would have went to bed with you straight away the first time you saw her, just to get close to you and get informations.” He takes a step closer to Bokuto, both of them now standing face to face, their foreheads almost touching. The tension lingering in the air is visible for anyone in the room.

Bokuto’s breathing heavily, trying his best to hold himself back. Between gritted teeth he whispers: “ That’s only because you’d force her to do so.”

Much to Bokutos dislike, Ushijima again laughs. He knows exactly that you’re not forced to do anything, so this whole situation is rather amusing for him.

Bokuto’s whole body is shaking out of rage.

You have to do something now, otherwise everything will escalate in a matter of seconds.

Carefully you take a step forward and place your hand on Bokutos arm. His muscles are flexed, ready to throw another punch.

“Kou… please, let us leave.” You say softly, but it seems as if he isn't registering you next to him. His eyes are still fixed on Ushijima, watching every little move, ever litte change in his mimic.

“Bokuto… please.” You say louder and slightly tuck on his arm.

Finally he snaps out of his trance and looks down at you, his eyes still showing the same deadly glance he had while looking at Ushijima. You swallow loudly and suddenly you feel extremely small and vulnerable. Letting go of his arm you take a few steps back.

Ushijima stiffens as he sees your anxious state, ready to blow everything and step in-between Bokuto and you if he dares to take a step closer to you.

Bokutos eyes soften and his face drops as soon as he realises that he’s the reason why you’re eyes are now filled with fear.

“Y/n…” He takes a step closer to you and extends his arm, trying to touch you. Your reflexes act before you can think and you instantly take a step back.

The look you saw in his eyes, reminded you of the way those guys looked at you the night you first met Ushijima.

Bokutos eyes fill with sadness and he drops his arm, his shoulders sink down and he takes a few steps backwards.

Immediately your mind is filled with regret. You know for a fact that Bokuto would never intentionally hurt you, never, despite all of this though, you still get those throwbacks.

“Kou.. I’m sorry.” You mumble and walk over to him to wrap your arms around him.

“Please spare me with this shit.” Ushijima’s voice echos through the room and both yours and Bokuto’s gaze shifts to where he stands.

“Leave now.” He says and crosses his arms.

A bit hesitate Bokuto grabs your hand and leads you out of the room.

Non of you say a single word while walking directly towards the black Bugatti. The whole drive was silent. Bokuto’s jaw tightly clenched, while you didn't dare to look at him.

He stops the car as soon as he’s in front of his apartment.

“Go inside, I have to discuss something with the boss.” He says without looking at you his eyes still fixed on the street.

“Kou… let me explain… please.” You begin. You can not simply leave him alone now, while he lives with the thought in his head, that you’re afraid of him.

“Later.” He says coldly, but finally turns around to look at you for the first time since you two left Ushijima’s office. His brows furrow and his eyes soften as soon as he sees how genuinely sad you look. “I promise we talk later.” He says, in a total different tone and gently cups your face in his hand. You lean your head into his touch and close your eyes, while a small tear runs down your face.

When you open them again, you’re met with the Bokuto you’re used to see. His soft and gentle aura calming you down immediately.

“Don’t cry my love.” He says, caressing your face with his fingers.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologise. Non of this is your fault. I should have known better. You already told me how you’ve met Ushijima. It was my fault.” He says, his smile now dropping into a sad, regretful one. You open your mouth to protest, but he quickly places his lips on yours in a gentle loving kiss, shutting you up.

“No. Don’t say anything. I promise you, you will never see me like this again. I can’t bear knowing that you’re afraid of me, even if it’s only a tiny little bit of you fearing me.” He mumbles before kissing you again. “Now please, get inside. And I hope to find you in one of my sweatshirts when I get back home.” He smiles genuinely and pokes the tip of your nose, making you giggle.

“Okay, I can’t promise not to take your Vetements one tough.” You laugh.

“Whatever I own is yours.” He smiles lovingly and watches you getting out of the car.

@tendouthighs , @lilacshouko @softhourswithseb@theperksofcoffee @cuddlesslut @shhhlikeme, @kynyta @yammmers @asahi-is-jesus-periodt @hxnni-bxnni@theduvetpirate @chromaticstudio @gywjd0131 @haikyuusimp91 @kara-grayson04 @saucysamu @brokeyiam

#haikyū!!#haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu fanfiction #bokuto x reader #Bokuto x yn #bokuto imagine #bokuto headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #hq imagines #hq headcanons

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

EUPHORIA - Chapter 29

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, owner of a shady night club. She’s a journalist who has been asked to write an article to expose the indecency and debauchery that’s going on behind closed doors. But he’s also Dean Winchester, the boy who sat next to her in class. The boy who was too cocky for his own good.

Chapter Warning: Angst

WC: 2008

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons <3

This series is complete on Patreon!

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

Dean knows that he should have run after her, but he couldn’t get his body to move. Knows that the moment the door shut that he had made a fucking big mistake. It’s all on fucking him , but no matter how many signals his brain is sending his limbs to move, no matter how much he wants to just shout out for her to wait, it’s not happening. He is a prisoner of his own fucking body. Prisoner of his own fucking mind.

His senses are flooded with dread, guilt nags at his conscience, and there’s the nauseous feeling again.

She loved him? She said she loved him. It’s the first time they said that they loved each other and the circumstances couldn’t be any fucking worse. That’s certainly not how he imagined her telling him that she felt that way. The way he’s been feeling for fucking weeks.

He runs to the kitchen, throws up into the sink.

Dean retches and coughs. There’s not much coming out, he hasn’t eaten in days. He retches and retches more, and his throat starts to hurt. He runs the tap and throws ice cold water into his face before he turns around and slides his body down to the floor. He’s sitting there in his fucking kitchen, crying like a fucking whimp.

Christ, Y/N’s right and he hates that she is. He didn’t even look at the clip for too long. Couldn’t make it past twenty fucking seconds without the feeling of wanting to punch his fucking screen.

Is that why she was always so cautious about cameras in the rooms? Is that why she delivered him the speech about blackmailing? Jesus , he’s such a fucking dumb piece of shit. Dean closes his eyes and bangs the back of his head against the kitchen cabinet while he hugs his knees to his chest, hands balled into fists, his knuckles showing white.

Maybe he would start to fucking feel something!

After a while of numbness, he sniffs, rubs his hands over his face and brushes the tears stains from his cheeks. He stands up and walks over to his laptop on the couch, stepping over empty bottles. He starts his laptop. His hands are shaking but he wills himself to go over his emails, clicking on the dreadful message again.

The clip starts right away, fills his fucking screen, and Dean wills himself to watch, squinting as he does because the sense of nausea kicks in again.

He watches past the twenty seconds he first managed, and then he notices it. Notices her hair, notices that she tries to cover her face when the camera zooms in. He hears someone talking — fucking Cole . He’d notice the sneer of the guy's voice anywhere. You like this too, don’t you, Y/N? Tell me you like this, tell me you like being filmed. And then there’s her voice, small, a soft mumble, it almost gets lost in the wet sound of bodies slapping together. No, no no no.

Dean’s blood freezes and there’s the fucking sick feeling in his gut again.

Fuck.

He closes the laptop forcefully, throws it off his fucking couch and it lands with a loud thudding sound. Dean lays his head in his hands.

Fuck.

Guess the award for the most fucking idiotic dumb boyfriend has been handed out to him, huh?

There’s nothing he can do anymore is there? The things he said to her, the accusations he threw in her face. The final word of him telling her it’s fucking over. It really is, isn’t it? There’s nothing to be fixed, right?

His phone rings and he looks up from his palms, sniffs before he walks to his bedside table where it’s plugged in. His heart’s racing, because he thought that it was her. Thought that maybe she’d changed her mind, thought she wanted to talk it out and he would, even though he’s never been a talker, but he fucking would sit down and talk it the fuck out with her — but it’s only Sam.

“‘Lo,” He says, and sits down on his still made bed. Hasn’t slept in it since the day he saw the video.

“Dean, you okay?”

Dean sighs, “Let me guess, Cas?”

Sam chuckles, “Yeah,”

“I’d be lying when I said that I would be okay, Sammy.” He’s being truthful. It’s rare that it happens. Dean’s not the one to spill his heart out. Not to Sam either. Not to anybody for that matter. He would to her now, but she’s fucking gone.

His brother sighs, “What happened?”

Dean snorts and chuckles darkly, “I’ve been a fucking idiot, Sammy. But what else is new, right?”

“Y/N?” Sam asks.

“I’m too dumb for my own good, Sam. And now she’s gone and I was the one who said I wanted her gone.” The words spill out of him, and then he adds, “She walked out.”

Sam sighs, “And you let her?”

“What should I do?” Dean scoffs.

“You changed, Dean. I don’t think the old Dean would let her go without a fight. At least not when he realizes what a fucking idiot he’s been.”

“Sammy,”

“Don’t Sammy me, Dean! How many times have you told me stories about your English classes, huh? How many times did you tell me that it’s your fave fucking class? So, tell me something Dean, if I would ask for you to tell me about your favorite moments in your life, what will you tell me, huh? You and I both know it. You will say her. You will always say her, isn’t that so?”

Dean hates that Sam’s right.

“I don’t know, so maybe you should go get her?” Sam says, and adds, “But, uh, maybe get the bottles out of the way, open up some windows to get the stink out of your loft and for god’s sake, take a fucking shower!”

“Cas?”

“Yeah.”

Dean rolls his eyes, “Bye, Sam.”

After an ice cold shower, Dean sobered up enough to think straight. Not enough to drive, though, so he takes a cab to her apartment.

Once there, he takes two steps at once and stops to breath in front of her door. He feels nauseous again, it’s a constant now and slowly he gets used to it. His heart is pumping fast, he’s fucking nervous. Lifting his hand, he knocks.

Nothing.

He knocks again, this time with his whole hand, palm hitting the wooden door, “Y/N open up, please. I need to talk to you.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. I’ve been an idiot.”

There’s shuffling behind the door and it comes to a halt just short before it, Dean can hear it clear as day.

“Baby, please?” Dean leans his forehead on the door, his hands balled into fist as he knocks again.

“Dean, it’s over. I have nothing else to say to you. Please leave.”

He closes his eyes and his heart takes a leap when he hears her voice. God, he hates that she uses his words against him.

“‘M not going anywhere.” Dean says and it’s like he once promised her, he’s not going anywhere. He’s fucking here to stay. A promise he fucking broke because he’s a goddamn idiot. He’s here no matter what, he said, and he fucking broke that promise too.

There’s no answer and Dean turns around, rests his back against the door and lets himself slide down it. He’s going to wait.

He spends four hours in front of her door but when she wouldn’t come out and Cas called if he’s going to be in for work, he gets up from his position, knocks at her door again, “I have to go in to work. I’ll be back alright? I’ll come every day until you talk to me again, I swear.”

The first day he came to her apartment straight after work, camped outside, hoping she’d go in to work and would open up to meet him but she never left her apartment. He went back to change into new clothes and came back around to wait it out until he had to go into work again.

The same repeated for the next two days.

Cas didn’t really ask where he’s going and Dean thinks he knows. He hasn’t really talked to anyone since, to be honest. He didn’t even try to send her a text or call, knowing that she wouldn’t want to answer his calls or text anyway. There’s really nothing else he can do than waiting out in front of her door.

And now, Dean’s been doing that for three fucking long days. He came and went, brought her food and water but it stayed untouched in front of her apartment.

On his fourth day, Dean’s late because he fell asleep in his office before the club even closed and now it’s already 10am when he arrives at her door.

He knocks, and as usual, there’s no answer, so Dean sits down again, braces his arms on his knees and buries his face in it. He tries not to fall asleep, because if he does, he’d miss her and judging from the lack of sleep he’s getting, he’s sure that if he does, he’ll be dead to the world and won’t hear a fucking thing.

Dean’s fighting with himself right now, fighting to keep his heavy lids open when he hears a creaking of a door. It isn’t her door, though. No, the sound comes from a little further away.

“Young man?” Dean hears a voice and an old woman peaks her head around the corner of her door frame. It’s Y/N’s neighbor.

“Yeah,” Dean looks up and clears his throat, pinches at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“She left this morning. I saw her in the stairwell, she had a heavy bag with her so I don’t think she’ll be back.”

Dean’s heart sinks to his balls and he gets up, tries to not to just grab the woman and shake more information out of her, “Okay,” He says instead, “Thanks.”

His car stops with a screech at the curb in front of her office building and Dean hurries out, runs up to the entrance. Fortunately, the security guy knew Dean, so he waved him through.

Up on her office floor, he can see that her desk is empty but Rufus stares at him, killing him with a glare. Dean lifts his eyebrow, but he stays rigid because Rufus stands up to walk over to him.

The man pushes him out into the hall, his hand firm but gentle on Dean’s shoulder.

“I just need to talk to her,” Dean says and he might sound desperate, but he just can’t bring himself to care.

“She’s not here, Dean.”

“What do you mean?” Dean turns his head and cranes his neck to catch a glimpse of the open office. Maybe she’s just in one of the meeting rooms?

“Just what I said,” Rufus says and continues to walk Dean back to the elevator, “She took time off. She’s not going to come in anytime soon.”

Dean turns around to stare at the man, “Do you know where she is, please?” His hands fists in Rufus' shirt. Yeah, Dean knows that he gives the impression of being desperate, but that’s only because he fucking is.

“No, I’m sorry. She didn’t tell me.”

“What did she tell you?” Dean can’t help but ask.

“That you’ve hurt her, Dean. You’ve hurt her bad.”

Shit.

Rufus goes on, “I’ve known her for a while, Dean. I was there when she ended things with Cole. And from the way she talks, she’s even more upset about this break up.”

Break up . The word hits Dean like a fucking freight train.

Rufus ignores Dean’s dumb stare, “What I know about her is that when she gets hurt, she’ll shut herself out from everything and everyone. It’s her coping mechanism. Now, please leave. She’ll come back when she’s ready.”

Chapter 30

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

#euphoria #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

179 notes · View notes

themetaphorgirl · 4 years

Text

I asked for cute and cuddly things so I could write something adorable!! I tried to combine as many as possible!

@therestisconfettis : “the psolc babies making a pillow fort!!”

@birds-are-better-than-you : “My brain immediately goes to people actually listening to him talk instead of cutting him off, but thats just rooted in sadness”

@fragolinaa : “I just want people cuddling him, maybe someone who hasn't yet like Emily or Dave?”

@purpleturtle31extra : “Spending an off day exploring music together! Like showing him songs that remind you of him or a certain memory..”

anonymous: “cute cuddly idea: u mentioned Emily and Dave getting Spencer legos. Write a little thing of a rainy day or whatever and everyone’s just chilling building random shit with legos and then there’s gonna be Spencer actually building something with proper ratios and actual potential urban planning and everyone else is just like “hmm... I have built something vaguely resembling a plane”

anonymous: “omg cuddly mom alex?? maybe spencer napping with her and he has a nightmare??”

I hope I touched on everything!! I think I captured at least a little bit of everything!!!

----------

“Hey,” Emily said. “Are you feeling okay?”

Spencer dragged his fork around his plate, his chin resting heavily in his hand. “I’m not hungry,” he said dully.

“This is your last day to eat whatever you want,” she pointed out. “Go get something sugary. Donuts or something.”

He shrugged, and she bit back a sigh. Everyone else had left on Wednesday afternoon to spend Thanksgiving break with their respective families- literally everyone, even Hotch- and while they’d had a nice Thanksgiving at James’s house, and she was enjoying having her room all to herself, she and Spencer had been left behind, and the kid was moping like it was his job. She was starting to figure out that while he liked doing things on his own, he needed the security of knowing that everyone else was nearby.

“I guess I’ll go get some chocolate milk or something,” Spencer sighed, sliding down from his chair.

“See? There you go,” she said. “Treat yourself.”

As soon as he slid down from his chair and trudged away she pulled out her phone.

the cause of hotchner’s headaches

9:09am

You guys need to help w the kid hes so sad i dont know what to do

James texted back first, which didn’t surprise her.

doctor james, medicine man

9:10am

Is he okay?

the cause of hotchner’s headaches

9:10am

HES SAD I CANT HANDLE IT COME HELP ME

spaghetti grandpa

9:11am

He’ll be fine. He knows everybodys coming back today right?

the cause of hotchner’s headaches

9:12am

HE IS SAD NOW COME OVER

She set her phone aside as Spencer walked back up to the table with a carton of chocolate milk in his hands. “Can you open this for me, please?” he asked.

She did and handed it back, but he didn’t drink it. “How about we go watch a movie or something?” she suggested. “While we’re waiting for everybody to get back on campus. That’ll be fun, right?”

He shrugged. “I guess,” he said. “What time is it?”

“A little after nine.”

He scrunched up his face, calculating. “Who do you think will be back first?” he asked.

“I don’t know, babe, we’ll have to see,” she said. “Drink your milk and we’ll get out of here.”

He sighed. “I don’t think I want it anymore,” he said. She shot him her best impression of Alex’s mom look. He rolled his eyes, but he drank it anyway.

Outside the dining hall it was cold and gray and dreary, rain falling just steadily enough to be irritating. She pulled the hood of her jacket over her head and made Spencer put his purple galaxy-print raincoat on over his his sweater before they walked down the steps.

“Do you think the weather will ground planes?” he asked anxiously.

“Your guess is as good as mine, squirt,” she said. “It’ll definitely rain all day, but I don’t know if it’ll affect planes. You’ll probably know better than me.”

He said nothing, but he slipped his small hand into hers. She squeezed back gently. The kid had been perfectly well-behaved the whole time she’d been left to watch him, but it was frustrating to see him so sad and quiet and droopy. She didn’t think it was possible to be homesick for other people, but Spencer definitely had a bad case of it.

They settled in the common room, but the cozy space seemed cavernous and empty without the rest of the group. Spencer left his coat and his shoes in his room and settled into Alex’s usual spot on the couch, leaning on the armrest.

“So what do you want to do, kiddo?” she said. He raised and lowered one shoulder. She huffed. “I’ll just pick something then.”

“Nothing scary, please,” he said, his chin resting on his folded arms.

“No, don’t worry, I learned my lesson,” she said. She grabbed a Star Wars off the shelf- she wasn’t sure which one it was, but she figured she couldn’t go wrong with something sci fi.

“Hotch’s plane lands at eleven, right?” he said as she plunked down on the opposite end of the couch.

“I think so,” she said. She reached over and ruffled his hair lightly. “Stop overthinking, you’re going to blow a fuse in there. Everyone will be home soon, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worried,” he mumbled.

They got about halfway through Star Wars (she still wasn’t entirely sure which one it was) when they heard Dave and James on the stairs. “Hey, guys!” Dave called. “We’ve got presents!”

Emily paused the movie. “What do you mean, presents?” she said. “What’d you bring me?”

James and Dave each held large plastic tubs that they dropped with heavy clatters on the floor. “Spencer, you’ve been having fun with the legos we got you for your birthday, right?” James said.

Spencer raised his head. “Yeah,” he said slowly.

“Well, we decided to dig around for our old lego collections you can have your own giant collection,” Dave said.

He slid off the couch. “Really?” he said.

“Yeah, absolutely,” James said. “Go get yours, we’ll put them all together.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up. “Okay!” he said, darting off to his room.

“Oh my god, thank goodness you two are here,” Emily said.

“You know, you said he was sad, and I didn’t believe it till I saw him,” Dave said, wrenching the lid off the first bin. “He looks like a deflated balloon.”

“See? I wasn’t lying,” Emily said. “Poor kid has been moping all week.”

James checked his phone. “Hopefully everybody will get in without any problems,” he said. “Alex texted me a little bit ago and said they delayed her flight by an hour.”

“Oh, yikes,” Emily said. “She’d better get back here soon. And don’t tell the kid that, he’ll worry more.”

Spencer ran back into the room with his legos. “How should I organize them?” he asked. “Color first or size first?”

“How about we, you know, build something?” Dave suggested as he sat down on the couch. “C’mere, passerotto, I think I have all the pieces to the batcave.”

“Ooh, which version?” James asked as Spencer sat down on the floor in front of Dave.

“I don’t know. I think I built it once when I was Spencer’s age and then never touched it again.”

Emily leaned over James and scooped up a handful of plastic pieces. “What are you going to build?” she asked.

“Hey, don’t copy me!”

They worked on their projects mostly in companionable silence, sometimes absent chatter. Rain continued to tap at the windows. At least Spencer seemed distracted at last, focused on his projects.

Lightning cracked, white light shining through the window for a brief moment, and everyone jumped; Spencer knocked over one of his structures. “Holy shit,” Emily said. “That was terrifying.”

“You okay?” Dave asked, touching Spencer’s arm lightly.

He nodded, leaning against Dave until he lifted him onto his lap. “Do you think everybody’s okay?” he asked. “Planes can’t always fly in this sort of weather.”

“I’m sure everybody’s fine,” Dave reassured him. Spencer bit his lip, still staring out the window. “So what have you been building?”

“Scale model of campus,” he said. “Well, it’s not exactly to scale. But it’s pretty close.”

James held up a lump of legos. “This was supposed to be a plane,” he said. “But it doesn’t look particularly aerodynamic.”

Spencer laughed. “What kind of plane is it supposed to be?” he asked. “It looks like an off-kilter Cessna.”

“I don’t know. Just...a plane,” James said.

“I’m trying to see how tall I can build this thing without it falling over,” Emily said. “Not much success yet.”

“I’m sure you know, caro,” Dave said, poking Spencer lightly in the side. “How tall is the tallest lego structure ever?”

“The tallest one is in Milan, it’s a hundred and fourteen feet, eleven inches tall,” he said. “The previous tallest was just a hundred and fourteen feet tall, in Budapest.”

“Milan, hm?” Dave said. “Maybe I’ll go see it next time I’m over there.”

“There’s one in Tel Aviv that was built to be four feet taller but-”

Lightning cracked again and Spencer jumped. Dave rubbed his back lightly. “It’s okay, it’s just a bad storm,” he said. It was too late, though- the attempts at distraction had failed, and Spencer was clearly back to worrying, the corners of his mouth tugging down.

Dave looked over at Emily. What should we do? he mouthed. She shrugged helplessly.

Thankfully, right at that moment heavy footsteps echoed on the stairs. Spencer raised his head. Please let it be one of our group, please let it be one of our group, Emily thought fervently.

A tall figure in a rain-soaked coat made it to the top of the stairs, almost terrifying for a split second, but he threw back his hood and shook his head. “Jesus, that was a nightmare,” he said.

Spencer scrambled to his feet and ran towards him, nearly kicking Dave in his haste. “Hotch!” he shrieked, throwing his arms around his waist.

“Hey, kiddo!” Hotch said, bending to hug him. “Hey, careful, it’s raining really hard out there, I’m drenched and I don’t want you to get wet.”

“How was your flight?” James asked.

Spencer, undeterred, still clung to Hotch; Hotch ran his fingers through his thick short curls. “Unbelievably shitty,” he said. “Flights were getting canceled left and right, it’s just storming bad everywhere. If I hadn’t gotten such an early flight, I might not’ve made it back.”

“That’s what we’ve been worrying about,” Emily said. “And when I say we I mean Spencer.”

Hotch tugged him back so he could see his face. “Hey, stop worrying,” he said. “Everybody will get back eventually. I promise.”

“I can’t help worrying,” Spencer said. “What if everybody’s flights get delayed? What if something happens to their planes. What if-”

Hotch scooped him up. “Hey, I think the dining hall’s open for lunch,” he said. “Anybody else hungry? I didn’t have time for breakfast before my flight and all they gave me was one packet of pretzels.”

“They stopped giving away peanuts because of allergies becoming more common,” Spencer said, leaning his cheek against Hotch’s shoulder even though his coat was soaked with rain.

“Yeah?” Hotch said. “How about you go get your coat and your shoes, okay? I’m starving.”

“Okay,” Spencer said reluctantly. Hotch set him back down on his feet and he ran down the hall to his room.

“I am so glad you’re back, Hotchner,” Emily said, sweeping her lego tower back into the bin. “He’s been so sad with everybody gone.”

“I can tell,” he said. “Has he been like this the whole time?”

“Oh, yeah,” Emily said. “I’ve barely been able to get two words out of him.”

“Even when they came over for Thanksgiving he wasn’t talking much,” James added.

Hotch sighed. “I didn’t even think about this,” he said. “Poor kid.”

Emily’s phone buzzed. “Oh, it’s Penelope,” she said. “I’ll put her on speaker. Hey, Pen, how’s it going?”

“Terrible!” Penelope said, her voice crackling over the line. “I made the flight from California to Texas for my layover, but they canceled my connecting flight. It’s storming too bad.”

“Oh, yikes,” Dave said. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” she sighed. “They have me booked for a flight first thing in the morning, and the airline is putting me up in a hotel for the night, but it’s so frustrating.”

“I’m sure,” James said. “Stay safe, okay? Do you need anything?”

“Are you kidding? The hotel has like a million channels and room service, I’m doing great!” Penelope said. “I’ll call you guys in the morning before my flight, okay? Talk to you soon!”

Emily sighed as the call ended. “Well, that’s one down,” she said.

“Penelope’s not coming?”

Spencer peeked out of the hall, his rainboots on and his coat dragging from his hand. “Yeah, her connecting flight got canceled,” Dave said. “But she’s safe, and she’ll be on a flight tomorrow, okay? So don’t worry.”

Judging by the way he pressed his mouth together, he definitely was worried. Emily pushed herself up from the floor. “Let’s go get lunch, okay?” she said. “Before Hotch starves.”

The rain had gotten decidedly worse, coming down in heavy sheets and flooding patches of the courtyard. Her umbrella helped a little but not much; Dave complained loudly the entire walk over. Spencer stayed glued to Hotch’s side, clinging tightly to his hand even once they made it to the warm safety of the dining hall.

Hotch pulled Spencer’s hood down as they got in line. “What do you want?” he asked.

“I’m not hungry,” he said.

He frowned, then covered Spencer’s ears. “Emily, be honest,” he said. “Did he eat while we were gone?”

“Not for lack of trying,” she said. “I kept putting shit on his plate and he barely touched it.”

“Did he just eat ice cream and candy?”

“He didn’t even want sweets. Or coffee, even.”

Hotch’s frown deepened. “Well, shit,” he said. He dropped his hands to Spencer’s shoulders. “Okay, kid, you have to eat something. If you don’t pick, I’ll pick for you.”

Spencer shrugged. “That’s fine,” he said.

Hotch met Emily’s gaze, eyebrows raised. “I told you,” she said.

She followed Hotch down the cafeteria line as he filled up two plates. Spencer stayed so close he ran the risk of getting stepped on, his small hand clinging to the hem of Hotch’s jacket.

Dave and James had beaten them to their usual table, and neither of them looked particularly happy. “Bad news,” James said. “JJ just called. Her parents rescheduled her flight. They were worried about the storms, so she’ll be here tomorrow afternoon.”

Emily glanced over at Spencer. “But she’s okay?” he said anxiously.

“She’s fine, caro,” Dave said. “And she’ll be here tomorrow.”

“What about Derek and Alex?” he asked. “Have they called? Or texted.”

“Not yet,” James said. “Maybe they’re already on their flights, though. I”m sure we’ll hear from them soon.”

Hotch set the tray down on the table, then picked Spencer up and set him down in his chair. “They’ll be fine,” he said. “So how did Thanksgiving go for you guys?”

Even with their attempts at changing the subject and trying to draw him into the conversation, Spencer seemed to sink further into himself, his legs tucked up under him and his chin resting in his hand, his plate still mostly untouched. Emily couldn’t blame him for being sad. All week it had been just the two of them in the nearly-deserted dining hall, and even with the boys there it seemed wrong without the rest of the group- Penelope shrieking about something that didn’t need to be shrieked about, Derek regaling them with stories from football practice, JJ’s pretty laugh bubbling over, Alex keeping the peace and stopping cups and plates from getting knocked over and tilted onto the ground.

Hotch didn’t make much headway getting Spencer to eat, but at least he ate a little bit, and their little group braved the storm to get back to Lincoln House. “What have you guys been up to?” he asked as they settled in the common room again, coats and umbrellas hung up to dry.

“Legos,” James said. “This was supposed to be a plane.”

Hotch laughed. “Yikes,” he said. “I’m glad you’re not planning on going into engineering.”

“Yeah, probably for the best,” he said ruefully. “I-”

“Hold on, hold on,” Dave interrupted. “Did you guys see the group chat?”

Emily fumbled for her phone. “No, I didn’t, I...oh.”

“What’s wrong?” Hotch asked.

“Derek’s flight got canceled too,” James said. “He says it got delayed and he sat on the tarmac for three hours, but they pulled everybody off the plane. His mom’s already picked him up, so he’s fine.”

Emily glanced over at Spencer. He curled himself up smaller, his knees tucked up to his chest, chewing on his thumbnail. “But he’ll be here tomorrow?” he said.

“Yeah, he’ll be here tomorrow,” Dave reassured him.

Spencer lifted his head. “Can we call Alex?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah, of course,” Emily said, immediately pulling Alex’s contact info on the screen. “Here, kiddo. Just press-”

Lightning cracked, and with a sharp pop the common room went dark.

“Holy shit!” Emily shrieked, the phone falling from her hand.

“Did a fuse blow?” Dave said.

James got up and looked out the window. “Well, judging by the other buildings on campus...I think the power’s out everywhere,” he said.

“Well, fuck,” Hotch said.

Emily raised an eyebrow. “Watch your language!” she said in mock horror.

“Oh, shut up,” Hotch said good-naturedly. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait for the power to come back on. Spencer, do you want to go ahead and call Alex? She’ll probably be glad to miss the power outage.”

“I think the tower’s down too,” Spencer said in a small voice. “There’s no signal.” He held the phone back out to Emily. “Thanks anyway.”

She reached for the phone, and as the lock screen flickered she caught the faint mark of tears on his cheek. “Oh, no,” she said. “Oh, fuck. Spencer, don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying,” he said, but there was a distinct wobble in his voice.

“Spencer, it’s going to be okay,” Hotch said. “The power’s going to come back on, and everyone will be home soon.”

It was too dark to see, but she could hear Spencer sniffling in a valiant effort to keep form crying. “I know,” he said. “But I-”

Hotch picked Spencer up and placed him in Emily’s lap. “Stay here with Em for a second,” he said. “James, Dave, come with me.”

Spencer dropped his head against Emily’s collarbone as she wrapped her arms around him. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“Don’t be sorry,” she said. “It’s been a rough week, dude. You didn’t get to go home and see your family, and you miss everybody. And you’re worried because of the storms. It makes sense.” She kissed the top of his head. “And now we’ve got all this power outage shit. But it’ll be okay.”

Hotch dumped an armload of stuff onto the nearest armchair. “Thank goodness for Penelope’s illegal candle stash,” he said.

Emily twined one of Spencer’s short curls around her finger. “What’s with all of the pillows and blankets?” she asked.

In the dim light she could see Hotch grin. “We’re going to make a blanket fort,” he said. “C’mere, Spencer, I could use your brain for this.”

Emily set Spencer on his feet as James and Dave brought in their collections of pillows and blankets. She busied herself lighting candles and placing them in safe places around the room as Spencer directed the older boys in their construction. He seemed to perk up a little bit with something to focus on, especially as they let him be in charge.

“Okay, I’ve made some blanket forts in my day, but this one is pretty cool,” James said.

“That’s because Penelope has about eight million blankets and they’re all soft as baby puppies,” Emily said as she crawled into the fort. “I claim the blue pillow!”

All five of them fit comfortably inside, the interior lit with a string of battery operated fairy lights, also taken from Penelope’s room. Spencer nestled himself between Hotch and Emily. “Are we going to tell Penelope that we borrowed all of her stuff?” he asked.

Hotch handed him his favorite blanket. “I think if we leave the fort up till she gets back, she won’t mind as long as she gets to hang out in here,” he said.

“What should we do?” Dave asked. “Power’s still out, and there’s no wifi either.”

“Oh!” Emily said. “Okay, I’ve been trying to get you to listen to this album for weeks. Now is the perfect time! You’re a captive audience.”

They took turns passing each other’s phones back and forth, listening to different songs in the comfort of the handmade blanket fort, playfully arguing over each other’s tastes in music as the warm glow of the fairy lights cast soft shadows. Spencer seemed a little less tense now, snuggled safely between Hotch and Emily with his blanket hugged to his chest.

She hadn’t kept track of time, but it was at least two hours before the power switched back on, the overhead lights suddenly way too bright after the dimmness of the tent. “There we go,” Dave said, sitting up and checking his phone. “And we’ve got signal again!” He stretched his arm over James and Emily to hold out the phone to Spencer. “Here, passerotto, see if you can call Alex.”

He took it eagerly and tapped at the screen to bring up her info, but his excitement faded almost instantly. “It went right to voicemail,” he said. “Thanks anyway.”

James scrambled ungracefully to his feet. “Hey, since the power’s back, who wants to watch a movie?” he said.

“Not a Star War, please,” Emily called. “I can’t tell any of them apart.”

Hotch propped himself up on his elbow. “Hey, Spence,” he said. “It’s okay. I’m sure Alex is fine.”

“Yeah,” Spencer said. He turned to Hotch, one corner of his mouth tugging up in a rueful little half smile. “I bet her flight got canceled too. It’s okay.”

James flipped the overhead lights off, leaving them back in the glow of the candles and the string lights, and crawled back into the fort with the remote in his hand. “All right, if anyone has objections, y’all can get up yourself and change it,” he said.

Emily settled back as the movie started. Spencer was quiet beside her, but after a while he rolled over onto his stomach, his forehead pressed against Hotch’s arm and his blanket tangled around his legs, and she smiled when she heard his first little snore.

“Hotchner,” she whispered. “This blanket fort idea was genius.”

Hotch grinned. “Sean made me make one for him while I was home,” he said. “I figured Spencer might like it too.” He paused. “Is he asleep?” Emily nodded. “Thank god.”

James sat up and pushed his hair out of his eyes. “Guys, I still haven’t heard from Alex,” he said. “It’s still going right to voicemail when I call her and she hasn’t answered any texts.”

“Maybe her signal’s out too,” Dave said. “Don’t worry about it. Alex can take care of herself.”

James pouted. “Yeah, but...I might be a little worried about her,” he said. “It’s not like her to not answer.”

“Awww, you miss your girlfriend,” Emily teased.

“I do! I do miss her!” James said.

“Guys, if any of you wake up Spencer, I will murder you,” Hotch hissed.

“I’m sorry!” James whispered back. “I just- I think I need to be worried about Alex.”

Suddenly a familiar person knelt down and leaned into the tent. “You’re worried about me?” Alex said, her long red hair hanging loose around her shoulders. “That’s so sweet!”

James scrambled up, smacking Dave in the face in his haste. “Oh my god, I missed you!” he said. He tugged her closer, cupping her face in his hands, and kissed her deeply. “Oh my god. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she laughed, running her fingers through his hair. “My phone died and I didn’t pack any of my portable chargers in my carryon. Where’s everybody else?”

“Everybody’s flights are delayed,” Emily said. “Spencer’s been beside himself.”

“Oh, poor thing,” she said. “Is he sleeping? I don’t want to wake him up.”

“Yeah, he just dozed off,” Hotch said. “He’s going to be so relieved to see you.”

Emily scooted over to make room. “C’mere, the movie hasn’t been on for very long,” she said.

“Hey!” James protested. “She’s my girlfriend, shouldn’t she be next to me?”

“Well, she’s my roommate, and I’ve had her for longer,” Emily said. Alex laughed as she settled between her and Spencer, busying herself with snuggling him against her side and tucking him in. Emily leaned over to whisper in James’s ear. “Besides, we all know you two are gonna go fool around the second you get a chance. You’ll get your quality time, don’t worry.”

Even in the dim light she could see him turn red. “What are you guys whispering about?” Alex asked.

“Nothing!” James squeaked. Emily made a rude hand gesture and he smacked her arm. “Emily! Stop it!”

She snickered as she leaned her head against Alex’s shoulder. “How was your week being in charge?” Alex asked as she adjusted Spencer’s blanket around him.

“Could have been worse...could have been a lot better,” Emily said. “He was so sad. I’m not good with sad kids.”

“I’m sure you did great,” Alex reassured her.

The movie was almost over when Spencer began to shift and whimper in his sleep. “Is he okay?” Emily asked.

“He’s-” Hotch winced as Spencer kicked him in the shins. “Ow. Bad dream, I think.”

Alex sat up. “Okay, I’m going to wake him up,” she said.

“Careful, he can be pretty feisty,” Hotch warned.

Alex stroked his hair back from his forehead as he tried to pull away from her. “Spencer, wake up,” she called gently, her hand resting on his chest. “Come on, darling.”

She kept coaxing him until his eyes finally opened. “What’s going on?” he mumbled.

“You had a bad dream,” she said.

He blinked. “Alex?” he said sleepily. “Did your plane land safely?”

Hotch laughed. “Yeah, kiddo, her plane landed safely,” he said. “Get the sleep out of your eyes.”

Spencer rubbed his face and blinked again. “Alex!” he yelped, throwing himself into her arms.

“Hi, baby,” she said. “Did you miss me?”

“A little bit,” he said, tilting his face so she could kiss his cheek. “Was your flight okay? Was there a lot of turbulence?”

“Everything was fine,” she reassured him as she cuddled him against her side. “Now, sh, I think Dave is getting invested in the movie.”

“No, I’m not,” he said absently.

“Yes, he is,” Emily teased.

Spencer settled down with his head on Alex’s knees; Hotch tugged his blanket around him. “Everybody else will be here tomorrow,” he said. “Penelope’s connecting flight got canceled, and Derek’s got canceled, and JJ’s parents rescheduled her.”

“That’s good,” she said, stroking her fingers through his hair. “Go back to sleep, darling. You look so tired. And everything’s going to be okay, nothing to worry about.”

The rain had settled back into a light tapping on the window; the thunder and lightning had long since stopped. Emily leaned back against her pillows, smiling in contented relief. Alex was right. Everything was going to be okay.

#au: patron saint of lost causes #caitlin writes things #emily prentiss #alex blake #alex miller #aaron hotchner #hotch #dave rossi #james blake #spencer reid

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 4 years

Text

Drug Bust

My Jake Peralta imagines could either be read alone or you could think of them together with “Welcome to the 99!”

WC:3080

Thursday 10:15pm; A drug bust gone wrong

There was a blinding white hot pain going through your body. You don’t remember where the pain started and you didn’t care, all you knew was that you were bleeding in your abdominal area, laying on the ground trying to keep your tears at bay.

You just wanted Jake to be by your side at that moment, you knew you weren’t going to die because if you think you're going to die then you're going to lose hope and you didn’t want to lose hope, there was still so much you wanted to have happen in your life.

...

Days Leading Up to the Bust

Tuesday 10am; Briefing

“There is a new drug being spread around the streets of Brooklyn called-“

“Taxi!” You yelled out in the middle of Captain Holt’s sentence causing people to look at you.

You just slightly blushed from all the sudden attention and apologized to Holt for disrupting the meeting, you just dropped your head slightly toward the table to try and ignore the eyes on you.

“Yes Detective (L/n), it is called Taxi because it is the color yellow and also it is a new type of speed that has recently been brought to our attention. So we are going to need two detectives to go undercover on a drop.”

Without even looking behind you, you knew that Jake and Charles turned towards each other with their stupid little grins on their faces showing the pure excitement going through their mind of having the chance of coming up with some undercover identity’s for a drug bust, but-

“Diaz and (L/n) you too will be our dealers for this case.” Holt said erupting a gasp from Jake and Charles.

“Captain! Why would you choose Rosa and (Y/n) out of me and Charles!” Jake pouted out.

“Actually it’s Charles and I” You turned around to fix Jake’s grammar.

Jake just looked at you a little weird and you were just a little confused on why he was, so you just turned back around.

“What are you another Amy?” Jake said under his breath.

You tensed just a little and then relaxed choosing to just focus on the rest of the meeting as Captain Holt was giving off instructions for the drop that was going to happen on Thursday in a hotel.

“Everyone is dismissed now, go do your jobs and keep Brooklyn safe.” Holt said, closing the meeting.

Everyone got up from their seats going their separate ways. As you got up from your seat you turned around to try and talk with Jake about that passing comment about being another Amy. There was nothing wrong with Amy, she was a sweet, kind lady even though she’s barely in the bullpen where you are stationed because you took her spot and became Jake’s new partner, but that’s not the point. You just want to make sure that Jake isn’t angry with you in any way because you guys are partners for most cases so to have any type of bad blood towards each other whether it be a tiny thing or a big problem it’s always good to clear it as soon as possible.

When you turned around, Jake wasn’t there so you guessed he was back at his desk working on some paperwork for one of his cases. As you were walking back to your desk that was Amy’s desk before you, you turned to look at the Captain’s office real quick and noticed that you saw Jake in there talking with Holt, throwing his arms about like he was trying to argue a point that didn’t seem like it was going to land anywhere, and with Holt sometimes they don’t land.

So you got a little curious and walked up to Gina’s desk where she was just texting on her phone, or was on twitter (sidenote: Gina’s tweets are so random, but they bring you some type of entertainment to your life).

“Hey Gina what’s happening?” You asked, stopping to the right of her desk, the side that was closest to Holt’s door which was currently closed.

“Oh yea I’m just having twitter beef with some random person from Florida arguing about the rights of endangered animals, you know those types of Florida people.” Gina replied mindlessly not looking up from her phone, just smiling to herself at this new development in her life.

You just cocked your head to the left out of questioning if you want to look into this twitter beef later and also because you're trying to see if that angle will allow for you to hear Jake and Captain Holt’s conversation. You weren’t able to really hear anything so you just decided to go back to your desk and do some work for the meantime.

After about 20 minutes of you doing desk work you finally see Jake walking over to his desk out of the corner of your eye. You looked up when you heard Jake sigh out as he sat down looking glum for some reason.

“Hey, Jake are you okay?” You asked him quietly not wanting to try and draw unwanted attention towards you both.

Jake just looked up from his desk towards you. He looked sad and tired, you wonder if it has to do with the fact that he wasn’t chosen for the undercover cases, Jake always loved a chance to come up with a new identity.

“Are you a little upset about the case? Honestly I would be fine if you were on the case rather than me. I’m not the best on undercover drops, I get nervous.” You started to ramble out, stopping when you noticed that Jake obviously didn’t care what you had to say that the moment.

You just sighed to yourself and went back to doing your work; getting paperwork in order, getting evidence ready for a court case, talking with Rosa about the drop on Thursday.

As you were talking about the drop your eyes slightly looked towards Jake who was just doing paperwork at the moment and his face kinda just looked...blank?

“Hey Rosa, does Jake usually act like this when he isn’t assigned a certain case he hoped to work?” You whispered to Rosa.

Rosa looked up from the case information in your hands and looked towards Jake and then she took a quick glance at you.

“Eh, it’s Jake. He’s sometimes still childish with his work.” Rosa just said.

You just nodded slowly and decided it was none on your business anyway.

...

Wednesday 9:05am; Bullpen

“Hey Jake, hey Charles.” You greeted your partner and friend as you walked to your desk.

Jake looked like he was in less of a mood, so that’s all that kinda mattered in your books.

“Hey (Y/n) nervous for the drop tomorrow?” Charles asked you, turning around in the seat that was placed next to Jake’s desk.

“A little, but I’m also excited at the same time. The precinct that I last worked at wasn’t the best place and also I was always given crappy cases, so this is going to be good.” You exclaimed, smiling to yourself.

“Well we just know it’s going to go great, don’t we Jake.” Charles said trying to bring his friend into the conversation since he was being so quiet.

Jake was just kinda looking at you, it looked like he zoned out or something his face was...blank. You kinda just looked at him back taking in his facial features. He always just had a kind smile whenever you saw it, it’s barely pointed towards you though so it always brightens your day when you get just a small glimpse of it.

You wish it was pointed towards you everyday.

“-I mean Sarge is always going on about his yogurt.” You heard Charles’s voice causing you to snap out of your thoughts.

When you were brought back to Earth you saw that Jake was gone from his desk leaving you with Charles rambling about Sarge and his yogurt.

“Hey Charles where did Jake go too?”

…

Charles said Jake was in the evidence room so that’s where you went to go looking for him.

“Oh hey I was looking for you.” You stated as you saw Jake’s back.

No you weren’t stalking Jake, you just have been wanting to talk with him and every time you try and start a conversation something would randomly come up stopping you in the process.

“Oh hey (Y/n).” Was all Jake said to you when he turned around to see who came into the evidence room.

You just cocked your head a little to your right wondering why Jake was kinda just being weird around you.

When you came to the 99 Jake was acting completely civil and his normal goofy self, but lately he's kinda just been a little reserved you could say, but it was just around you which annoyed you to death.

“Hey Jake I was just wondering if I did something to bother you these past few weeks. If it's just my mere presence then I’m sorry about that, but I’m not just gonna leave the 99 because-”

“Woah, (Y/n). No it has nothing to do with your presence; I like having you around. You're one of my new friends here, it's just with this drug bust I’m scared something could happen to you.” Jake said quietly, but you were able to catch the very last bit causing a slight blushing on your cheeks.

You were looking at Jake as he was looking towards the ground finding his shoes very interesting, when you noticed his head was coming back to your level you glanced to the floor real fast.

‘What am I, a school girl confronting her crush?...Actually that could be what is happening.’ you thought to yourself as you were staring at the floor.

You brought your head back up to meet Jake’s eyes.

“Well thank you for your concern Jake, but this is our job and if something bad happens then at least I was just doing my job to try and clean the streets of Brooklyn.” You said timidly with a shaky smile on your face.

Jake was just staring at you, his eyes darting everywhere over your face almost like he was trying to take in certain details and remember your face in this moment. It looked like Jake was about to say because he looked slightly hesitant.

“Um (Y/n) I just want to say-” and then the door opens bringing in Charles.

Charles was looking between you and Jake with a weird look on his face, but then again Charles is just a different kind of guy so you don’t try and pay much mind to it.

Since you finally got to talk with Jake you see that you should leave now and probably talk with Holt, going over the plan for tomorrow.

“Well thanks for the talk Jake, I’m gonna go and talk with Captain Holt about the bust tomorrow to make sure everything is all good, so I’ll see you later. Bye Charles.” You said as you walked past him waving both Jake and Charles good bye.

…

Thursday 8:40pm; getting into position

“So...what was going on with you and (Y/n) yesterday in the evidence room.” Charles singed, wiggling his eyebrows at Jake.

Jake just pulled a creeped out face, because this was something Charles does most of the time when he opens his mouth. Jake just stayed silent in the driver's seat of his car looking forward towards the building where the bust was going down.

“So Charles, how's your life going.” Jake blurted out wanting to avoid talking about himself.

Obviously Charles didn’t notice so he just went on a rambling spree about random things going on in his life at the moment.

Jake just started to slowly zone out because he knew whatever Charles was saying he would rather not know about it.

…

10pm

“Man this is taking forever.” Jake sighed out.

It’s been probably almost two hours of just sitting in the car with Charles going on different tangents about something random. Jake was just hoping that nothing bad was happening, as long as there weren't any type of radio calls.

It seemed like it was going fine until…

BANG

“All units go in! Now!” Captain Holt’s voice sounded through the coms yelling at everyone to rush towards the building where loud gunshots were heard.

Jake’s anxiety spiked, worried that something happened to either you or Rosa, two of his friends and one that was starting to be just a little more.

Jake and Charles ran towards the doors of the building, the same ones that you entered just a while ago doing your job.

Jake and Charles held their guns up, sweeping the perimeter for drug dealers with weapons. Jake told Charles to split up to sweep the building faster, so Jake went right and Charles went left.

As Jake got to one room he started to hear loud gasps, almost like someone was trying to catch their breath. As Jake walked further in, he saw that there was a body on the floor with crimson liquid spilling around them.

Jake ran to the person, dropping to the floor on his knees and turning them over so he was able to see their face; and when he saw your face draining of color his heart dropped to his stomach.

“(Y/n)...hey (Y/n) come on, stay awake for me; You’re gonna be okay.” Jake whispered close to your face making sure your breathing was still there.

Your breaths were coming in shallow not wanting to waste what little energy you had left at the moment. You turned your head slightly, leaning into Jake’s body wanting to feel his body warmth since yours was dropping fast causing you to shutter. Blood was spilling from the corner of your mouth staining the path red.

“Jake...Jake please don’t leave me.” You whispered out with a glimpse of fear coming forward.

Jake just quietly shushed you telling you everything was going to be okay, just slowly petting your hair.

He cupped your face making you keep your focus on him and only him at this moment.

“(Y/n), look at me. Everything is going to okay, the ambulance is coming and they are going to take you to the hospital and fix you up. Nothing bad is going to happen.” Jake choked out.

You smiled at Jake, feeling the tears spill out of your eyes causing a choking feeling to get stuck in your throat.

“I’m really happy that you’re my partner Jake.” You whispered to him, feeling your eyes become heavy.

Jake must have noticed the way your eyes were dropping that he needed to keep you awake because he started to shake you and call out your name, but everything just started to sound like you were underwater.

…

Friday 8am; The Hospital

The beeping of machines slowly brought you out of your deep slumber. Your eyes felt like they weigh 100 pounds causing you to strain a bit just trying to pry them open. They also just felt gross, you probably had eye boogers and maybe tear stains on your face from when you were crying in Jake’s lap.

Slowly, but surely you were able to get your eyes to open up to the fluorescent lighting of your hospital room. You moved your head around to look around your small hospital room and when you looked toward the door you saw that someone was sitting in the one chair close to you.

“Jake.” You called out, but your voice was basically gone, just a tiny squeak came from your throat.

Jake was asleep in the chair, which probably wasn’t very comfortable especially with the weird position that he was in. You saw that he was close enough that you could probably poke him or something to grab his attention. You were moving your fingers very slowly so as to not bring any unwanted pain to your body.

As you slowly go, your fingers moving to grab onto just a bit of Jake’s shirt to tug it; you moved a bit too far or fast it didn’t matter to you all you knew was that a white hot pain shot through your body causing you to cry out in pain.

Jake probably heard your cry because you felt his hand on your shoulder asking what happened.

“I was trying to grab your attention, probably just moved too much.” You spoke out.

You looked up and saw that Jake was just staring at with a slight smirk to his mouth. His eyes looked like they had tiny stars in them with the way they twinkled across your facial features. You moved your left arm up slowly allowing for you to rest your hand on his cheek, moving your thumb back and forward over his smooth skin.

“Thank you...for saving me back there.” You croaked out of your dried throat.

Jake smiles down at you, moving his right hand to be placed on top of yours.

It’s finally pointed towards me for once.

“No need to thank me (Y/n); I’m your partner after all.” Jake stated without any hesitation.

Partner

That one word caused you to be brought back to reality; making you tense for a moment, but long enough for Jake to notice.

“Um...where is everyone else?”

“Oh, um they’re at the station right now. I came here first before stopping at work. I wanted to make sure that you were okay and awake, and since you are I should probably go to the Captain so that way everyone else can stop by.” Jake spoke, starting to back away, causing your hand to slip away and fall back on your bed.

“Okay well, I hope to see you again soon Jake...at the precinct.” You replied startled.

Jake grabbed his jacket from the chair putting it on and walked towards the door of your room until he stopped and turned around looking at you.

“Um...I’ll make sure to come by after work to see how you're feeling; if you're okay with that.” Jake asked you.

You smiled to yourself, having to resist a full blown grin splitting your face.

“Yea, that works for me!” You almost shouted.

#jake peralta #jake peralta x reader #jake peralta imagine #jake peralta x you #brooklyn99 #99 #b99 #amy santiago #charles boyle #terry jeffords #rose diaz #raymond holt #captain holt #gina linetti #fanfiction #ff #fluff #angst #no smut

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bitsandbobsandstuff · 5 years

Text

The (not naked) pin-up calendar

Summary: When you ask for a favor, Bucky (very) grudgingly agrees. What can you do to thank him? Return the favor, of course.

Characters: Bucky x Reader; a plethora of Avengers Warnings: Hardcore fluff. Soldiers wrestling like immature children. Steve being weirded out by nut sacks. Harry Potter references. A hint of naughty times at the end.

A/N: This is silly and fun and what can I say, writing sassy Bucky makes me happy. This is for @beckzorz 1k Writing Challenge (go follow this incredibly talented, beautiful lady), and my prompt was ‘Pin-up calendar’. Thanks a million for hosting Becca, I love you 3000! ♥️

Want to find all my stories? Search #bitsmasterlist or try the link in my bio!

*****

Overnight, the list gets tacked on the corkboard in the kitchen.

Bucky’s rummaging through the pantry, searching for his breakfast Doritos and a jar of salsa to dunk them in, when he glimpses his name from a distance. Snatching up a butter knife, he wanders over to the wall. When he sees the list header, he whirls around in a flurry of tangled hair and irrational grumpiness.

“What the hell is this?”

Bucky complaining first thing in the morning is par for the course, so both Sam and Steve, strolling in to search for breakfast, ignore him. Sam veers toward the sugary cereal cabinet, Steve heads for the oversize Ironman container housing granola, and Bucky stomps his foot like a toddler.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Steve says seconds later, through an overflowing mouthful of flaxseed and yogurt. “You already agreed. You’re not backing out.”

Bucky spins around and reads the flyer again.

---

“Avengers Calendar Shoot”

See below for your name and photo call timing.

Monday: Carol (10am), Wanda (2pm), Scott (6pm)

Tuesday: Rhodey (10am), Sam (2pm), Steve (6pm)

Wednesday: Tony (10am), Bruce (2pm), Natasha (6pm)

Thursday: Thor (10am), Clint (2pm), Bucky (6pm)

---

Stomping his foot again, Bucky stabs the flyer with the aforementioned butter knife.

“Someone better be yankin’ my dick right now,” he warns. “I definitely didn’t agree to bare my wrinkly nut sack for the whole fucking world to see.”

Sam dry heaves over his Lucky Charms.

Steve’s now filling his Black Widow coffee mug and rolling his eyes.

“What is it with you always trying to be naked? It’s not a naked thing, it’s a charity thing. Innocent children who don’t know what an asshole you are will see this, so you better be wearing clothes,” Steve gives his mug an annoying slurp. “Besides - you already agreed. No takebacks.”

“Steve,” Bucky crisply pivots, launching metaphorical murder darts from his eyes. “We’ve talked about this. Don’t tell me how to live my life.”

“Well it was your girl who convinced everyone to do it, so good luck telling her you’re a liar.” Instead of responding, Bucky holds up a Dorito in front of Steve and peers around the silhouette. Draws a few angles in his head. “What?” Steve asks brusquely.

“Nothing,” Bucky mutters. The chip cracks between his teeth with a puff of toxic orange. “Just makin’ an observation.”

“Just wear your scary leather bondage uniform with your scary mask and stand there all scary. You don’t even need to smile,” Sam says. Spooning cereal in with one hand, his other is attempting to worm its way into Bucky’s bag of chips. Cradling the Doritos under his arm, Bucky twists away, blocking the attack.

“Good way to lose a finger. Don’t touch my things.”

Sam swallows his cereal, ignores the lethal look in Bucky’s eyes, and tries again.

Steve joins in.

And so, when you roll into the kitchen a few minutes later, here’s what you find: three Avengers, three veteran soldiers, wrestling over a bag of Doritos. Bucky has Sam in a headlock, Sam is kicking Bucky’s shins and hitting him with a milky spoon, and for some reason, Steve is dancing around trying to tickle them both.

Clearing your throat, the trio freezes.

You smile.

“Gentlemen.”

Flailing arms and legs instantly break apart. Sam and Steve have the good grace to look chastened, both stammering embarrassed apologies. Bucky simply shoves a fistful of Doritos in his mouth and smiles triumphantly. Striding over to you, he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Babe, take my side here. You don’t want the whole world to see my nut sack, right?”

“Stop saying nut sack,” Steve hisses. “Nuts are gross.”

“Maybe your nuts are gross Steve,” Sam pipes up, rubbing his shirt with a wet rag, trying to clear away Bucky’s orange powder fingerprints, “but my nuts are awesome.” After a few harsh scrubs, he sees the futility and throws the rag in Bucky’s face. Stalking from the kitchen, he shouts something about laundry wheels and Oxyclean.

When you pluck the bag of Doritos from Bucky’s grubby hands, he releases them easily and grins at your exasperation. Sidling close, he rubs up against you like a needy kitten, so you hug him tight, dipping your fingers down to squeeze his butt.

“Please do it Bucky, I already told them you would. Wear anything you want, you don’t even have to smile,” you murmur in his ear, knowing precisely which buttons to push. “And besides, I bet I’m not the only one who wants to see those pretty blue eyes. Right?”

Bucky purses his lips. Wrinkles his nose. Grumbles under his breath.

And because you’re looking at him all wide-eyed and soft, he gives in.

Like he always does.

“Fine,” he huffs. “Fine. I’ll do it for you.”

“So much drama,” Steve mumbles through his granola. Bucky lunges for him, but Steve drops his bowl in the sink and skirts past, rushing for the door. Looking back, he throws Bucky a challenging smirk, before smacking into the doorframe. There’s a brief ricochet and then he’s scurrying down the hall, laughing as he goes.

“Idiot,” Bucky mutters.

Folding your fingers behind his neck, you turn his face back to you and kiss his stubbly cheek. “Thank you. Reason number one billion and two why I love you.”

At the brush of your lips, Bucky promptly grabs the back of your thighs and hoists you in the air. Spinning around, he shuffles over to the counter and drops you on top. Settling between your legs, hands flat on the counter boxing you in, his mouth finds the open space above your shirt collar and he proceeds to kiss every square inch.

“The things I do for you,” he breathes, sucking his favorite spot along your neck. It makes you shiver, that thing he does with his tongue. “You realize now I gotta go on a diet.”

“What? No, you don’t. You look perfect.”

Disappointingly, he stops that whole talented tongue thing and leans back. Grinding your heels into his butt, you kick him, urging him to stay put. Instead, he sighs in that tragic, pay attention to me way that only Bucky Barnes can do.

“Obviously I’m perfect, so are you by the way, but the camera adds five pounds. I have to preemptively lose it.” Crinkling up his now empty bag of Doritos, he throws it at the trash can and misses by a mile. He gives you a hangdog, pathetic sort of look. “This sucks.”

Bucky Barnes, ladies and gentlemen. The most dramatic human being on the planet.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you don’t need to diet. You could weigh a thousand pounds and it wouldn’t matter, you don’t - “

“Maybe not, like, a thousand pounds,” Bucky interrupts. “That’d make sex super hard. And not good hard. Just awkward hard. You know? Like when Hagrid’s mom and dad had sex. Which I still don’t understand how that’s supposed to work and I’ve done a shitload of research on it, been on all kinds of forums and talked to some experts - there’s a guy at SHIELD who specializes in interplanetary species relationships, I don’t know if you knew that - but anyway it just makes no sense because she would have killed that little guy if he tried to bang her, and I’m sorry, that’s the tea and I’ll fucking fight anyone who disagrees.”

Pausing for breath, he looks so earnest you almost hate to stop him.

“Buck, maybe we try one day where you don’t reference Harry Potter? I know you’re a fan, but - “

“I drew some diagrams,” he continues. “Boning diagrams. But like, I still can’t get it to work.”

Staring into space, he lets his marvelous tactical brain run every scenario of sexual acrobatics required to establish the feasibility of human-giant sex.

This could go on forever. Once Bucky gets knee-deep in fan forum theories, hours will lapse before he swims up for air. Many a morning has found him still in his boxers, laptop on his knees while he smashes the keyboard, arguing with virtual enemies about the physical features of Hogwarts house founders or the complex nuances of international Wizarding trade law.

The truth is - Bucky Barnes is a god damn nerd.

Clapping your hands, you drag him back to real life.

“Focus please. You’re good to do this then? Without the diet?”

“I really really hate it,” he replies, matter of fact, “but I really really love you, so if you want me to, I guess I’m in. But I’m still losing five pounds.”

“You’re my favorite, you know that?” Slipping your hands up under his shirt, you massage the tight muscles alone his spine and he hums happily. Flashing a lazy grin, he boops your nose.

“You know what? I think you should do it too. Be so great to have a sexy poster of you for those long nights when I’m gone and can’t sleep,” he waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “If you know what I mean.”

“I’m going to pretend I don’t know what you mean.”

“Whatever. Like you don’t have a folder full of dick pics with my name on it,” he laughs.

“I wish you’d stop sending me those,” you say sternly. “You know this is my work phone.”

“So? You always need fresh material for your diddle box. Keeps the romance alive,” he says. Reaching up behind you, he tugs open the snack cabinet and rummages for a new bag of Doritos. The airtight blurp of a new jar of salsa follows.

“I’m sure I’ll regret this, but - what exactly is a diddle box?”

Massive Winter Soldier eye roll.

“All the pictures and videos and sexy shit you use to masturbate. Clearly.”

“Why do I ask you questions,” you sigh.

“I’m starting my diet tomorrow,” he answers instead, before dunking a fresh Dorito in the salsa.

*****

The next two weeks are spent with Bucky mostly eating raw vegetables and baked chicken breast and loudly commenting on the sorrows of dieting to everyone he encounters.

“You’re being ridiculous Bucky. No one told you to lose weight.”

“No,” he says glumly, crunching a celery stick with a martyred expression. “I need to be hot. Beauty is pain.”

“You are a pain.”

He sighs dramatically. Stares wistfully into the distance. Snaps a carrot in half.

“The things I do for you.”

“Jesus.”

*****

AVENGERS CALENDAR SHOOT THIS WEEK!

Remember to be on time, or we will choose the worst picture of you and print that.

We’re assholes that way.

Thanks,

Management

*****

MONDAY

(SEPTEMBER: Danvers, Carol; Captain Marvel)

Carol throws her bomber jacket over her red, blue, and gold uniform, and adds a sleek pair of vintage Ray Bans. Climbing into the cockpit of her fighter jet, she turns herself all glowy and golden, the color bouncing merrily off the control panel. Tipping her face down to the camera, she flashes the Shaka sign and gives the photographer a huge smile.

(FEBRUARY: Maximoff, Wanda; Scarlett Witch)

Wanda goes all out on all things red. Clad in a long red dress and long coat, surrounded by hundreds of red flowers - tulips and roses and carnations - she curls her fingers and everything around her begins to glow with a warm red light. When she smiles at the camera, her head tilts shyly.

(OCTOBER: Lang, Scott; Antman)

Is Scott actually in the picture or did someone spill coffee? The photographer sees a white sheet and a black spec, and scratches his head in confusion. Antman is kinda weird.

*****

TUESDAY

(NOVEMBER: Rhodes, James; War Machine)

Rhodey shows up dressed head to toe in gunmetal colored armor. When he snaps the faceplate down, the photographer timidly asks if maybe he wants to show his face. Rhodey flips the faceplate back up, reminds the photographer how badass this armor is, and says nope. He’s all good, thanks.

(APRIL: Wilson, Sam; Falcon)

Sam has spent the last few nights practicing his Zoolander pout in the bathroom mirror. He decides to wear a tight black t-shirt and comfortable jeans, with his wings spread wide, Redwing hovering beside him. At the last minute, his sultry pout melts into an animated belly laugh and they decide to use that one instead.

(JULY: Rogers, Steven; Captain America)

Steve goes back to his roots. Wearing a too small shirt and holey old jeans, he gazes pensively at the easel in front of him, glossy blond hair combed in a perfect wave. Fingers dusty with charcoal, he points to the picture he’s drawing and insists they capture it in the photo as well. They later realize he was drawing a picture of his own ass. That month gets labeled “Steve Rogers and America’s Ass”.

*****

WEDNESDAY

(MAY: Stark, Tony; Ironman)

Tony wears the bottom half of his suit and his favorite Black Sabbath t-shirt. Posing in his lab, he floats a few feet off the ground, crossing his arms and giving that trademark smirk. Scattered around him are random bits of technology and a few arc reactors, with Dum-E and a steaming platter of cheeseburgers in the background.

(JUNE: Banner, Bruce; Incredible Hulk)

Bruce looks a bit rumpled. The publicity shy scientist in him detests these things, but he’s a good sport for a good cause. Surrounded by microscopes and beakers of dazzling green liquids, he allows the teeniest quirk of his lips. Hands tucked in his pockets, messy curls fall over his forehead, and Bruce just feels happy to be included.

(JANUARY: Romanoff, Natasha; Black Widow)

Natasha asks for her photo in black and white. Dressed in shadows and tulle, she is nothing more than a dark figure against a white backdrop. On her feet, are a pair of ballet slippers, their satin ribbons looped and laced around her ankles. When she arches slowly up on pointe, her arms curve gracefully over her head and there’s an ethereal stillness about the image. Natasha is amazing.

*****

THURSDAY

(DECEMBER: Odinson, Thor; Thor)

Thor wears an enthusiastic smile when he arrives - and not much else. Dressed in a cherry red speedo, black boots, and his swirling red cape, he stands with one fist on his hip and Mjolnir held lovingly in the other. When the photographer asks about his outfit, Thor proudly describes something called “fan art” he saw online of himself wearing this outfit, mentioning how many “re-blogs” it had. He thinks he might wear this outfit more often, if that’s what the Midgardians want.

(AUGUST: Barton, Clint; Hawkeye)

Clint has a cup of coffee in one hand, a pot of coffee in the other. He wears purple sweatpants and a grey tank top and he yawns every five seconds. When asked what pose he’d like to use, he pretends his hearing-aids are broken. He lays down for a nap and the photographer goes with that.

(MARCH: Barnes, James “Bucky”; Winter Soldier)

Bucky leaves his leather bondage gear, his excessive collection of knives and guns, and his murder scowl at home. Instead, he arrives in black jeans and boots, a dark blue t-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, his tousled hair brushing the collar of his jean jacket. Perched casually on the seat of his restored Harley, he looks carefree and sweet, offering that signature smile that always sets hearts aflutter.

*****

When the final photo is taken, Bucky ambles over to where you stand with the photographer, reviewing proofs. Snuggling up beside you, he moves in for a kiss and stops in surprise.

“What’s with the lipstick?” he asks, bemused. “That’s new.”

You seem momentarily flustered by the question, stuttering something about losing your chapstick and trying new things. Bucky shrugs and dives in anyway. It makes no difference to him. Painted red or completely bare, your lips are always his favorite flavor.

*****

“They’re here!”

The box of calendars lands with a thump on the kitchen counter.

“Excellent. Are we hot?” Steve asks, his mouth full of cheesy pizza.

“I’m always hot,” Sam answers, ripping into the box. “Yesterday I saw a Buzzfeed post about how hot I am, and it said 11/10 recommend.” Yanking out the pile of calendars, he throws one to Steve. “That means more than 100% would recommend. I’m beloved.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a national treasure,” Steve argues. Reaching for a calendar, he flicks impatiently until he finds himself.

Leaving the team to laugh and bicker and poke fun of each other, you grab your bag (and another small package), heading off to search for your favorite assassin slash model.

His door is cracked when you reach it, low music in the background. Knocking lightly, you push it open.

“Hey Buck. Are you busy?”

Surrounded a chaos of metal, Bucky sits cross-legged on his bedroom floor. A tin of gun oil lays open beside him, a shredded old t-shirt in hand, while he cleans and reassembles his guns. This particular task has taken him literally all day, because Bucky Barnes has yet to meet a gun he doesn’t need.

(Seriously. He needs them. All of them. Stop questioning him, Steve.)

At your voice, an adorable smile scrunches up his face. Bouncing to his feet, he leaps gracefully from the middle of the mess and scoops you up, twirling in a circle and stealing your breath with a warm kiss.

“Hey sweetheart, what’re you doin’ here?”

“Something arrived. Thought you might like to see.”

Handing over the calendar, Bucky wipes his hands on his jeans. A nervous energy makes his fingers fumble when he riffles through the pages.

He stops abruptly at March.

“Huh,” he says, observing his portrait from every angle. Turns it sideways, upside down, pinches his lip. Squints a little. Finally, he nods. “Yeah. Okay, yeah. I look pretty great. I think? Right? I don’t know, what do you think?”

It’s funny.

Sometimes, you hold your breath when you watch at him. There are these little things. The bright excitement in his eyes maybe, or the way he scratches his jaw when he gets nervous, or the absentminded way he tucks his hair behind his ear.

It does things to your heart.

“Yeah,” you say, mesmerized by those little things, “you really do.”

Bucky looks up. Sees your face and breaks into a wide grin. He loves when you look at him like this, like he’s the only thing that matters. Like he’s your whole world. Like you love him.

It does things to his heart.

Snapping the calendar shut, he flings it on his bed. Blue eyes rake you up and down and he pokes his lip out in an exaggerated pout.

“Still think you should’ve done it too,” he says. “Bet you would’a looked so hot.”

At his comment, you reach into your bag and pull something free. Silently, you hand over a second square, this one wrapped in black paper, a silver bow taped along the edge.

“What’s this?” he asks curiously.

Shrugging, your expression stays neutral.

“Open it and see.”

Like a kid on Christmas morning, he rips the paper away.

He freezes.

Blinking rapidly, he looks up. Silver fingers delicately trace the shiny picture and he swallows hard.

“Honey, is this - did you do this for me?” he asks softly. Flipping gently through each page of this special, one-of-a-kind calendar, he shakes his head in slow disbelief.

Because there you are.

Posing in March, holding his favorite confetti cupcakes adorned with birthday candles in front of your naked breasts.

Posing in July, dressed in a vintage red, white, and blue USO uniform, white boots on your feet and crackling sparklers in your hands.

Posing again in October, wearing a slutty pumpkin dress with cut-outs revealing slivers of your sweet, sexy assets.

Each picture is incredible. Full of vivid colors and your sunny smile. No air-brushing, no fake poses, just you. Indescribable and undeniably beautiful, bursting with love.

All for him.

Bucky rubs his chest absently, feeling his heart thumping with every turn of the page. And then he reaches the last month, and there’s a strangled squeak. He stares intently at the page. Looks up at you. Back to the page. Back up at you. Closes his eyes briefly.

This is it, this is his favorite, his absolute fucking favorite thing of all time, the image instantly wiping all other thoughts from his proverbial spank bank.

There.

You.

Are.

Damn.

Tacked above you is a sprig of mistletoe, a concession to the holiday theme. But it’s the outfit that does it. Black combat boots, lacy red lingerie, deep red lipstick, and an empty thigh holster. You’re pointing one of his favorite guns at the camera and giving a sly wink.

Mind-blowingly, devastatingly, breathtakingly gorgeous.

Bucky awkwardly adjusts the rising situation in his pants, raising lust-blown eyes to yours. Licking your lips, you give him a hesitant smile.

“Do you - um, do you like them?”

It makes you panic when he says nothing. He simply stares. But then he sets the calendar carefully, reverently, aside. Slipping a hand behind your neck, he hustles you backward until you bump the door, slamming it shut. His warm mouth slants over yours, that talented tongue returning to sweep over your lips. The kiss is hot and frantic, tinged with an edge of wild excitement. When he finally breaks away, his voice is low, dark gravel in your ear.

“Listen. I’m gonna need you to get all those outfits and put on every,” he kisses your throat, “single,” he trails his lips up to your jawline, “one,” and now he’s panting in your ear, “and then I wanna take pictures of me taking everything off, before I fuck you so damn good. How’s that sound?”

Sliding a hand between his legs, your answer makes him tremble.

“Sounds like a deal.”

*****

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #beccas1kwritingchallenge #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bitsmasterlist #bucky barnes

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iggy-of-fans · 5 years

Text

Of Being a Ladybug part 2

So, Paris is about 6 hours ahead of Metropolis . So if Marinette sent the message at say… 8 pm, and Jagged got it at 9 because he was at dinner, then getting lawyers straightened out and all that ...say Marinette starts school at 10 am, then it would be approximately 4am in Metropolis. It would be a 7 hour flight, meaning she'd leave at noon on Monday, and arrive at 2am on Tuesday.

The cons of being a reporter.

TUESDAY 2AM Paris

Lois was as excited as she was exhausted. Paris! She'd always wanted to go to Paris. As her taxi drove her past the Louvre and she could see the Eiffel tower in the distance, she couldn't help but remember the call she received yesterday.

"I know it's early, Lois, but I have a job for you in Paris" Bruce said from the other line.

"I'm listening."

"The satellites from the Tower have been picking up irregularities. Burning buildings, the Eiffel Tower toppled or completely missing, then the next pass everything is normal. Hal even claims he saw a giant baby on cams once. I've gone over all the pictures of the last year, a couple of weeks ago there… I can't explain it. I'll send you the images and we'll try to find a believable cover story for going in the middle of the school year like this"

"I understand, thank you Bruce. I'll book the earliest flight I can." Burning buildings? The Eiffel tower toppled? Nothing had been said in the news. If something on a grand scale like that were happening, they would already know.

"Thank you, Lois. I will of course pay for your accommodations while there," Bruce offered. A consolation for sending her around the globe for film effects.

She barely got a "thank you" out, before he hung up. She flopped back onto the bed, Clark raising an eyebrow at her. Of course he'd heard both sides of the conversation, so he obviously had his own opinion to share.

"Well? What do you think?" she asked him. If Clark gave it some weight, she might take it more seriously.

"A video was sent by the Mayor of Paris about a year ago, asking for help because his city was being overrun by stone monsters and their only hope lay with a couple of kids. I watched it and it looked like some cheap special effects and deleted it like the other publicity stunts people pull. Diana was the one to notice the inconsistencies with the Eiffel tower, and she swears she saw a couple kids flying on rooftops. It's why Bruce started investigating. But he has no reason to be in Paris at all, since Wayne Enterprises doesn't have an hq there, and he wants to save that excuse for if there IS any trouble. Anyways, try to enjoy your little vacation while you're there" Clark smiled.

"... Does Bruce know the mayor called for Justice League intervention?" Lois asked slowly. This… Was… Not… happening.

"No? I mean, just some publicity stunts, Lois. We get 20 of them a day" Clark dismissed. Lois was beyond words so she got up and started packing, and turned on her civilian phone to call for a flight. Before she could get dialing she got a call incoming.

"Penny? Is everything okay? WHAT? YES! Of course I do! That's huge! Yes, let me just call my boss…. Oh? Oh wow! Thank you! Yes, I'll see you tonight… Or I guess tomorrow for you…yes. I understand. Thank you" Lois couldn't believe her luck. She grabbed her JL phone and called Bruce.

"Bruce! I've got a cover! I've been asked by an old college friend to interview her client and a few others on Parisian TV. Yes, totally legit, she just called me… Penny Rolling. Yes, yes Bruce! I will keep my eyes open. Did you know the Mayor tried to call for JL intervention a year ago? No? Clark told me there was a video but thought it was a publicity stunt. Maybe try to find it and give me a heads up… okay… Thank you Bruce. That'll be perfect! I'll get to the bottom of this… Okay, thank you."

Finally done with the update she rushed to call the airline.

" NOON?!"

Before she could take in the breathtaking view any longer, the cab stopped. Lois paid the fare and stepped out and looked up. It was a beautiful hotel, owned by Mayor Bourgeois. The cabbie was loading her bags onto a trolley with a Bellhop waiting stoically by the doors. Just as Lois went to inquire about Penny, the door opened and out she came.

"You cut your hair!" Lois exclaimed, giving her friend a hug and a LA Bise.

"You, my beautiful ginger, are late! Had you arrived a few hours earlier you would have had quite the show!" Penny said with a smile. She'd always been jealous of Lois's hair.

"It's Paris, Penny. How exciting could it possibly be?" Lois asked jokingly, wondering just what her visit here would truly reveal.

I was going to end it here, but I believe I owe you all an action scene 😉

MONDAY 10AM PARIS

Ladybug flew over buildings in the direction of the explosions. She really wished she'd had a chance to see the classroom before leaving to see if she would have to once again go up against Alya. Or Lila.

Maybe if she was lucky it would be another unfortunate soul altogether. One she hopefully didn't know personally. Because it was starting to really take a toll on Ladybug, every time she came face to face with a friend or loved one.

Before she was ready she was at the scene. And she was shocked. The Akuma of the day was a barely visible outline of a woman. She had a flowy garment on and only became visible when she touched a person. The person would immediately admit to bad deeds, anything from finishing the ice cream container to more horrible crimes.

Ladybug watched as a couple hid behind a vehicle to escape the fate, only for the akuma to lift and throw the car, one handed, into another vehicle, creating another explosion. The akuma drifted ghost like towards the couple and became fully corporeal as she touched them, first the man ("I tapped your phone! I hated how much time you spent always going out!" he blurted out) then the woman ("I can't stand being with you!" she screamed back). Ladybug swallowed. This was not good. A non corporeal being with the strength of ten men and the ability to… Spill secrets? Ladybug wasn't sure, but didn't want to get too close before she had the full story. She went to grab her yo-yo to call Chat, only for him to pop up, baton swinging.

"What have we here? Another scary movie victim?" Chat asked, drawing all eyes to them. Ladybug wanted to scream. Or toss him off the building. Once! Just. ONCE!

"I… am Guilty Conscience. That voice that should tell you not to do bad… It Is too quiet in most people's heads. So therefore I shall make you scream your misdeeds to the world. No longer shall there be hiding behind white lies for innocence" the ghost whispered, yet to Ladybug she may as well have screamed.

"Che, you're out of your league! I have a picture perfect record!" Chat smirked, ever brash and fearless. Without a second thought, he jumped off the building towards the ghostly form. And just as Ladybug predicted, went right through her. She did not become solid upon contact with a human unless she so chose to. Great…

"Chat! Fall back, we need a plan!" Ladybug called, stepping back from the roof and readying her yo-yo.

"Just lucky charm her and we can go out for coffee!" Chat yelled back, swinging his baton uselessly through GC. Ladybug shook her head. She was almost 90% sure they'd need more backup.

"Lucky Charm!" she cried, throwing her yo-yo high. Down fell a teapot. Back up it is, she sighed.

"Chat! Fall back, I'm going for backup!" she called out again.

"Awe, but M'lady, I thought I was the only one you needed in your life!" she was sure he thought he sounded charming. She cringed.

"Not now Chat. I'll be back in a while, keep her from following me but keep your distance. No need to waste your energy for now."

Had she looked down, or paid more attention to her surroundings, she may have seen Lila hiding in an alley not far from the akuma. She may have noticed her trying to follow her. She may even have taken another route to get where she was going. Later she would regret not being more vigilant.

To be Continued...

Looks like me tag list is officially full. I'll try to send the rest in the comments!

@sidd-hit-my-butt-ham @kuroko26 @northernbluetongue @zelladane @chez-pezeater @luciferge @vixen-uchiha @bluerosette23 @mochinek0 @krunchy-tuna @treebrosha @geekydragonyt @vivilakitty @sassy-spocko @bluefiredemon-blog @mindfulmagics @thornangelic727 @sidefrienda @xxmadamjinxx @thepeacetea @pandocatxd @whomthefyck @lamestplaceintheworld @miraculous-ninja @mikantsume @unabashedbookworm @kandi-pie @2sunchild2 @redsparrow12 @shamefullove @cadencehood @thatonechickathottopic @yin-390 @tazanna-blythe @bb-basbusa @zazzlejazzle @fanfictionaddict13 @royalchaoticfangirl @god-is-dead-and-so-am-i @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @slytherinsheashire @imanerddealwith @tinybrie @angelisalise @graduatedmelon @trickstermiraculous @ayuchan07 @thatrandomfandomsgirl @sweatyruinsstudentbored @chloe-bourgeois-is-big-gay

#damian wayne #marinette x damian #daminette #marinette dupain cheng #maribat #marinette deserves better #maridami #marinette protection squad #Penny Rolling #Jagged Stone #uncle jagged #Aunty Clara #justice league #lois lane #clark kent #batman #batfam

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eerythingisshaka · 4 years

Text

Will the Bell Ring? Pt. 8

[Erik Killmonger x Black!OC]

Word Count: 4k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

It’s the night before the vacation, and Kimara is still ripping around the house trying to figure out how to fit as many outfits into her bags as possible.

Erik sits on the bed scrolling through his phone. “It’s only five days, Mara. You already overdoing it.”

Kimara comes back with a couple of neon colored swimsuits in her hands. “I just have to have variety for the ‘gram. That means a different look a day, maybe even a couple different looks a day.”

Kimara got to her knees, stuffing a bag and closing it. The zipper traveled laboriously around the lip of the luggage, sticking at a thicker point. Kimara sat down on the bag to help it along a the zipper groaned close.

She takes a large exhale before saying, “Damn! I didn’t put my sandals in there!”

Erik scoffs as he gets up to use the bathroom. “You can just wear them to the airport or put it in your carry on.”

“No my carry on is filled with my hair and skin products, plus some towels cuz I don’t trust their towels, you know that.”

As Erik relieves himself, Kimara gets quiet, getting up and looking at herself in the mirror. Her fresh golden brown goddess locs flow over her breasts and down her back as she spins around checking her body’s profile.

The toilet in the other room flushes as Erik comes back, drying his hands on his pants. “Whatchu doin?”

“Well...I’m thinking this may be the last vacation I take as someone without kids. After this break, We finally take some major moves to go into getting pregnant.”

Kimara puffs out her cheeks holding her stomach as her vision goes blurry. The tears beat her before she could stop them, racing down her face to the finish line at her jaw.

Erik pulls her into him, rubbing her back gently. “It’s gonna be so good, because you’re good. We deserve a break and we deserve a family.”

Kimara holds her arms around him tighter, tears manifesting even more but out of his loving words. She never thought that after telling him she had her abortion that he would have anything kind to say to her. But it’s almost like it unlocked a much needed door that opened him up to fulling standing by her and her needs.

“We do deserve it. It’s been so hard, but I know we can do it,” Kimara sniffles. Erik kisses her forehead, wiping some stray tears from her face.

“Now, I don’t know about what you got left to pack but long as you have your passport, I think you have enough stuff. Go on and wash you ass off and get some sleep. The flight early as a motherfucker.”

Kimara agrees, going over to her vanity to tie up her hair. Erik grabs his phone and bounds down the stairs. He takes out a bottle of water, cracking it open and hooting after the cool liquid freezes the inside of his chest.

Hearing the shower turn on upstairs, Erik sits at the dining room table and dials T’Challa. The phone rings and rings.

“How are you, N’Jadaka?” T’Challa greets him warmly.

“I’m good, pretty good. Y’all excited for this trip though?”

“Ah, Iman is very excited. She has been looking forward to it ever since my invitation.”

“Good! You making sure she stay looking cute for you? Got her some nice pieces to impress?”

T’Challa answers slowly. “I...am glad you brought this up. We are no longer considered a couple. This will be a friendly trip for us at best, but we are not linked romantically.”

Erik expresses genuine shock, mouth agape over the phone. “Damn man, what happened?! Mara made it seem like y’all were a good look at that one dinner thing y’all came for. Shit, the fact you bagged her the first night told me you musta really been feeling her. What, she didn’t like your Jesus slides?”

“Aye!” T’Challa scolds him like a grandfather who can’t catch nobody for a whoopin but they know not to try him anyway. “My footwear has nothing to do with it. We are simply not compatible, but it was amicable.”

Erik shrugs. “Well whatever it is, I guess it’s for the best. I don’t get why somebody would pass on a literal King but listen, I will take you clothes shopping with me and we can make you over so you’re pulling females right and left!”

“Enough, I won’t beg for attention,” T’Challa says.

“Fair enough, aight. What about you then? Does it make it kind of awkward to go now your girl ain’t your girl?”

“No. It has been a while since I visited an island for pleasure, so it will be a nice change of pace. How about yourself and Kimara?”

Erik gets quiet, twisting a stray piece of string from his sweatpants that will guarantee making a hole if he snatches it.

“Well we good. Mara is excited and I am too cuz I need a break from the whites over at Boeing and this city air. But I did wanna talk about something she said to me that made me kinda take a step back, you know. Not like I’m stepping away but like it pushed me back like WOW.”

“Say it simply and clearly, N’Jadaka,” T’Challa says. Erik sometimes rambles when he has something big to say and T’Challa never fails to be impatient about it.

“Right, right. Aight. So, we having our time together, just hanging out and stuff when she turns to me and tells me something I did not expect. Like, I don’t know how she could keep that from me for so long considering all we been through.”

“What was it about?”

“Basically, she comes to me and says that way back, before we were officially a thing and before OUR shit together….Mara had an abortion. The baby was mine too.”

T’Challa sits on the phone quietly. He assumes this is the best method of digesting the information he already knew when he first met Kimara. She poured her heart out to him in the midst of Erik’s recovery and rehabilitation. But Erik couldn’t hear that and take it well.

“You still there, Challa?” Erik asks after a while.

“Yes, it is just a lot to hear.”

Erik throws a hand up. “Fuck yeah it is! Like...all this time we been trying for a kid. She didn’t think that should be brought up? I wonder if the doctors even know. That might be the problem we having in all this! Maybe her shit got botched or something.”

“I am sure the doctors would have noticed something wrong with her during routine examination if that were true. Non-surgical abortions are an option.”

Erik scratches his head. “Sure, yeah. But...why didn’t she say this YEARS ago! I been fucking with her for a decade, and she doesn’t trust me to know this? I’m still here!”

“You were different then Erik. So angry and feeling betrayed, she assumed you would think she betrayed you too.”

Erik thinks back to when Kimara met him in Wakanda, how tired she looked. But his reasons for being there were all about himself and Kimara wasn’t ready for that responsibility, that’s when she left him there. That was the best thing she could’ve done for him because he worked that whole year trying to get right for her again. And she was there in that studio she loves, waiting for him like always.

“I would have a ten year old right now. Almost middle schooler right now!” Erik exclaims, thinking about a little Mara/Erik hybrid running around and causing havoc.

“You can still have that. Just be honest with each other and what you are feeling,” T’Challa instructs.

“Yeah, I been doing that. I can tell Mara been walking around like a puppy caught chewing a shoe since she told me. But I won’t let her see me upset, I need her to know I am there. That’s what made all this happen in the first place right? I wasn’t there, so...Imma be there.”

T’Challa wants to say more but fears overstepping the bounds of Erik and Kimara’s relationship. “Tell her you are upset about it.”

Erik hears the shower upstairs turn off. “Nah, I’m good. Her feelings are all I’m worried about. I can’t risk her turning from me again man. But thanks Challa, you always got a good er for listening, so I’ll talk to you later man.”

Erik hangs up to go back upstairs, feeling lighter having had a talk with someone he trusts. Kimara is already laid up with the covers under her chin, fake sleeping. Erik takes off his pants, rolling into bed with nothing between his skin and the sheets. Mara is wrapped up in one of hs tshirts and turns her back to him to allow her little spoon to fit his big spoon.

“Why are you acting like you cold?” Erik asks. Kimara is usually in the buff like him when they sleep.

“Because I am. You got the air on too damn chilly,” Kimara’s teeth chatter as she settles in to him, his body heat eventually making up for the lack of heat outside their blanket cocoon. Erik kisses her behind her ear, thinking about tomorrow’s trip with a little dread.

Kimara, Erik, Iman, and T’Challa all make their way off of the plane as they arrive at the beautiful resort in Turks and Caicos.

“Look at all the amazing views! That water, ugh!” Kimara excitedly rolls her luggage over to a window that oversees the resort’s amenities. An infinity pool, hot tubs, massage areas, sauna, a bar that catches Kimara’s eye for having real coconuts to drink from.

“Erik, look! That canopy I think has the couple massage shit. I reserved it for us on Thursday at 10am.”

“Ok, princess. That sounds good,” Erik says with not nearly as much excitement.

Iman stands next to Kimara, eyes widening. “Ooh child, yes! Imma look good for these champagne papis looking for a sugar baby to spoil. Can we please get our room so I can change out of these airport struggle clothes?!”

“I hear you on that,” Erik says, leading the group to the reception desk. Kimara hangs back with T’Challa who has been awfully quiet.

“Are you and Iman…” Kimara whispers.

“No longer a couple,” T’Challa finishes. “It’s not something to worry about, we are friends.”

“Oh ok, cool. Cuz when she started talking about finding a sugar daddy I was like whaaa?”

T’Challa shrugs. “She is free to do as she wants, as am I.” T’Challa offers Kimara a soft smirk to confirm his contentment.

Kimara gives his arms a squeeze. “Ohh, T. You got your pick of the litter around here. You the damn ultimate sugar daddy! I just don’t understand the girl!”

“Most people don’t recognize fortune at their feet when their nose is in the air.” Kimara lets out a small ooh enjoying the lowkey burn T’Challa just sent Iman’s way with her being none the wiser.

Erik and Kimara split down a hall to the left as T’Challa and Iman split down a hall to the right. The hall is decorated with hanging plants and wicker framed artwork, giving off heavy gentrified bohemian vibes.

As Erik opens the door to the room, Kimara bursts in and rockets herself into the bedroom. Erik rolls his and her luggage in.

“Damn, this place looks nice as hell baby!” Kimara calls out from the room.

“It should be for what it cost.” Erik looks out at the beach below watching some middle age white folk laying like lobsters out in the sun. Middle aged white folk running along the shore. Elderly white folk sitting in the ocean.

“There sure is a lotta fuckin white folk here,” Erik says, walking around the room to check out the bathroom and kitchen area. The fridge has fresh strawberries and grapes, a sack of bagels, orange juice and a case of bottled water. On the counter next to it is a menu for room service and a schedule for group meals during their stay. Erik takes it into the bedroom with him to alert Kimara.

“You tryna catch dinner happening tonight? Supposed to be a barbecue thing.”

Kimara groans, head face down in the pillow, locs sprawled all around. “I can’t even think about eating when my body just wants to do nothing. I’m tired.”

“You sure? I know your ass finna get real hungry later. You ain’t had nothing but them pretzels on the flight,” Eric warns.

“I can’t get up! And I won’t until I knock out, Erik please let me sleep.”

Erik tuts at her. “Ok, princess. But I ain’t paying this high ass room service cuz you slept thru dinner.”

Kimara wiggles around, fighting her hair to get a good look at him. “Stop acting broke, Erik. It’s not a good look. And you know I’m grown right? I can do what I want? Right? Ok, glad we up to speed.”

Erik rolls his eyes as Kimara plops her head back down, shimmying under the covers like a prairie dog.

Kimara rolled over to one side, feeling the grip of sleep starting to loosen its hold. Kimara stretched from her fingertips to her toes, seizing up in the bliss of her fully relaxed muscles. She sits up, pulling her locs back as her eyes adjust to the dark room.

“Where the fuck- OH!” Kimara puts a hand to her heart, forgetting that she was not home and still on vacation.

She gets out of be and checks the time on her phone is 11:14 pm and a waiting text from Erik.

“Did I really sleep for 8 hours?” Kimara asks herself, wiping her eyes as she looks around the room, finding a lamp to turn on. She sits on the couch feeling her stomach grumble.

“Goddamn I am hungry,” She says, picking up the pamphlet Erik was looking at for room service. But it ended at 10:30.

“That is bullshit.” Kimara sits back pouting, wondering what she was going to do for food. She checks her phone again, almost forgetting Erik texted.

BBQ in fridge, it reads. Timestamp says 7:13pm.

Kimara bolts for the fridge to find a tinfoil wrapped plate sitting on the shelf just for her. She does a little dance to open it up, finding pork ribs, chicken, corn on the cob, mashed potatoes, green beans and a roll. She takes a bite of the bread first, shimmying her shoulders with glee that it is a King’s Hawaiian.

She pops the plate into the microwave, hopping on her tiptoes in anticipation for some chowdown goodness. Once the microwave beeps, the room door opens.

“Sleeping Beauty finally awake?” Erik asks, his breathing is a little labored.

Kimara picks up her plate and brings it to the kitchen bar, climbing up on a stool. “Mh-mm, not until you come over her after leaving me all day on vacation.”

“Girl please,” Erik says walking over to plant a kiss on Kimara’s lips.

“Oof, you are sweaty! What you been doing tonight?”

Erik’s tank top draped over his shoulder, Kimara stares at the glistening of his scarred skin as he gets a bottle of water.

“Me and T and his girl been downstairs hanging out, mostly me and T though. How’s your barbecue?”

Kimara shrugs. “It’s ok. The sauce could be better but long as the meat ain’t pink I’ll call it a blessing. Hand me that salt shaker by the stove.”

Erik does so, standing on the other side of the bar to wipe his face and neck with his shirt.

“And I am so surprised they are even on this trip together still,” Kimara says while shaking some salt over her beans and corn.”

“Who?” Erik asks.

“T’Challa and Iman! You know what, I forgot to mention. I spoke to T’Challa at check in and he said they broke things off.”

Erik points in the air, remembering, “You right yeah he mentioned that.”

“Oh, he told you today while y’all were hanging? Did Iman say anything?”

Erik shakes his head. “Nah, he told me the day before.”

Kimara cocks her head to the side thinking. “The other day? Like yesterday?”

“Yeah, I called him when we were packing.”

“But I didn’t hear you talk on the phone. We were together that whole time,” Kimara says, pausing her meal to think about it.

Erik shrugs. “You were in the shower.”

Kimara wants to fold her arms but her bbq sauced hands prevent her. “Hand me a paper towel.”

Erik does so. “Is something wrong with me taking a call with my cousin?”

Kimara scoffs while cleaning her fingers. “Not at all. What did you all talk about?”

“The trip. Just how excited we were and then he brought up they aren’t a thing no more.”

“Really? Huh. I think that’s weird Erik.”

“What’s weird about it?” Erik counters, looking sternly at Kimara.

“You didn’t tell me you called him and you almost always tell me when you’ve seen him or heard from him when I ask you about the day.”

“Almost, you said. SO this one time I didn’t. I don’t think you asked about my day either,” Erik quips.

“Because we were together the whole day, I know how it went cu I was there.”

“Sure.”

They pause in silence for a minute, Kimara staring him down and Erik returning the glare.

“Problem, princess?” he asks.

“You’re hiding something.”

“I talked to my cousin, what else is there to it?!” Erik barks, making Kimara jump on her stool. She gets down, creating some distance.

“All I asked is what you all talked about. And I didn’t even know you had a conversation with him one day before our trip, I think it’s sus.”

“Oh, I’m sneaky? That’s a big accusation.”

Kimara felt something twist in her chest. “What does that mean Erik?”

Erik walks into the bedroom as Kimara follows. He turns into the bathroom and starts the shower as Kimara sits on the bed waiting. When Erik comes back out, Kimara wastes no time.

“You told him didn’t you,” Kimara says quietly. She doesn’t look at Erik, hoping she is wrong and overreacting and waiting for him to say so, but he sits down instead.

“I told him what you told me.”

Kimara exhales deeply, holding her face in her hands. Erik takes her into his chest, comforting her.

“You didn’t have to tell him. Why would you tell him?”

“Like I said. He’s my cousin. Family oughta know and he knows a lot more worse shit about me than this.”

Kimara looks at Erik, holding his face in her hands. “I’m sorry you had more shit to tell him. How did he react?”

Erik shrugs. “Kinda just neutral. It was so long ago, I wasn’t acting upset so I think he knew he didn’t have to be.”

Kimara feels a small victory in that. She still feels like she should confront T’Challa about it, just to make sure they are on the same page.

“I’m glad you weren’t too upset then. You don’t have to tiptoe around me, just tell me what’s real. We gotta be honest about what’s going on.”

Erik gives a small smirk. “He said something like that too.”

Kimara hugs Erik, taking this battle as a win. “You can take a shower now.”

Erik chuckles. “Yeah me and T had a volleyball match downstairs that got hella intense.”

Kimara gets up, putting on her shoes. “Well I think I should take a walk along the beach some.”

“Yeah, you got energy now from that long ass nap of yours. Be careful though. Call me if you need something.”

When Kimara makes it to the bottom floor, the automatic doors leading outside create a gust of air that whips Kimara’s sundress almost too high for public decency. As she steps out on the sand, she looks around the dimly lit beach area. Along the sand there were vendors and seating but into the ocean the sky was so dark and the ocean almost looked like oil. The moon wasn’t shining so bright, so she could barely catch any blips of light against the waves.

“Kimara!”

She turns to see Iman bounding towards her. She has a generous F cup size, barely being held by her neon yellow bikini top, making her noticeable even in the night.

“What’s going on? You just woke up?”

“Yeah, too bad I didn’t set an alarm. Heard you guys had fun.”

Iman smiles. “Hell yeah we did. T and Erik had their guy time, being macho all on the volleyball court. Busted two damn balls cuz they throwing their hands so damn hard.”

Kimara laughs. “Erik refuses to let T’Challa win in anything so that’s accurate.”

“Right! Hey look, so project Sugar Daddy is underway. I got a bunch of drinks off this old man that kept a tab open. I think he forgot because he’s old but that’s besides the point. But he offered to play yahtzee or mancala or something tomorrow with some of his buddies. That should be lit!”

Kimara throws her hands to the sky. “I mean what else is there to do. Make sure his tab is open.”

“Only way to play!”

Kimara looks around Iman. “T’Challa is down here, right?”

“Uh huh, cooling off over there even though he barely broke a sweat. He act kinda like a mutant sometimes. Too cool and too strong.”

“Is that why you couldn’t stand to be with him?” Kimara asks.

“A little, yeah, and that tooth necklace he always wear is weird. He wasn’t giving me a lot of himself so I figure good dick is everywhere. I’ll pass.”

Kimara shrugs and dismisses herself to go talk to T’Challa. He is laid out with his hands behind his head, looking rather peaceful.

Kimara comes up to him and smacks his perfectly toned stomach. T’Challa peeks open one eye knowingly.

“Kimara,” he says in a monotone.

“Don’t gossip with Erik, ok?”

T’Challa sits up. “In what way?”

“I mean in the only way. Speaking behind my back. Talking about personal things without the other person’s input.”

“If this is about your shame-”

“HA! Shame? You keep calling it a shame, I am not ashamed anymore! He knows and he is fine. We are fine!”

T’Challa blinks unperturbed. “Then what is the problem?”

“Just!” Kimara sits by his legs to form her thoughts. “Erik didn’t know about that, you did. He hasn’t known for years and just found out. If he knew you knew, wouldn’t that be a problem?”

“No.”

“Exactly, so-- Wait, no?”

“No, it wouldn’t be a problem. Because if he blames you, he is completely missing the situation he put you in. It would be selfish of him to hold that against you.”

“Uh huh…”

“But for you to not say anything at first was for his benefit when he was emotionally and mentally bruised by his background. However since he has recovered and continues to, holding that back then turns into a betrayal to him because it looks as though you don’t trust him or yourself.”

Kimara stands up. “The fuck? Why wouldn’t I trust him?!”

T’Challa shrugs.

“No you got so much to say, say what that means!”

“All I know is I have no secrets between you and I or he and I. Why there is miscommunication between you two is something for you both to find out. And I suggest you do before becoming with child.”

“Fuck you T’Challa. Honestly. Don’t come at me like this. I said keep your mouth shut about me around Erik, period. So do that. I don’t know why you came on this trip anyway. It was a couples trip and you brought a random bitch out here like that’s ok.”

“It didn’t cost me much,” T’Challa says, sinking back in his chair with his hands behind his head.

Kimara walks along the beach fuming. T’Challa was so blunt with her, he hadn’t acted like that with her in a long time. T’Challa acts like he is so perfect, but he isn’t. Kimara sighs heavily with the prospect of being here four more days but T’Challa will not be with Erik for as much of the trip as possible as far as she is concerned.

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#shakafic #will the bell ring #erik killmonger fic

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peteywillproceed · 4 years

Text

“We Were On A Break!” - Part 2

Author’s Note: It’s here! I’ve been so excited to upload this! Thank you again for all the amazing support so far, I can’t believe we hit a hundred followers already! You’re all so so amazing! As usual, let me know if you wanna be added to my tag list, and I hope you enjoy x

Summary: Tom might’ve broken your heart, but the prospect of you moving to another country changes everything (kinda Friends TV show crossover!)

Word Count: 4,720

Read Part 1 First

Turns out, you wouldn’t.

Mostly because Tom couldn’t keep his hands off alcohol. But also because he couldn’t keep his promises either.

Your eyes fluttered open to face an empty bed. It was cold and the covers were gone, and you felt a little furrow of confusion work its way through your brow. You were used to waking up alone when you’d been together, but some how you’d thought this might change things – that he might finally do the half decent thing and bring you some coffee.

But the open door reminded you that to Tom, you’d never be someone he brought coffee to. You were the person that fixed him up when he was pissed, told him how great he was when he was sad. Yet when it came to you, he couldn’t even find it in his heart to stay a little while.

“Tom?” you called, frustration and sleep coating your voice. You groaned, feeling your muscles protest as you sat up, grimacing at the tight jeans and unforgiving fabric of last night’s clothes. You were still half hoping he might just be in the bathroom, but when loud voices drifted up the stairs, cheers from boys still a little drunk from the night before ringing in your ears, you wondered how you’d let him suck you into this in the first place.

In a huff, you threw yourself out of the bed and grabbed your jacket, double checking none of the sneaky bastards downstairs had helped themselves to your purse. A glance at your phone reminded you you’d never told Sarah where you’d ended up last night, and even Cameron had blown it up with calls. Regardless, you’d missed your first lecture, and you wanted to curse Tom for getting under your skin again.

Poking your head out of the door, you wondered if you could just make a dash for it down the stairs. Doing the walk of shame at 10am in the morning when the only thing you had to be ashamed of was how gullible you were wasn’t exactly an experience you were thrilled about, but here you were. You started sneaking away as fast as you could, making it to the door before a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?”

“Hey, Harrison,” you sighed, dropping the handle in defeat. You glanced past his shoulder to make sure no one else had heard him and put a finger to your lips.

“Are you and Tom back together?” he whispered, eyes lighting up in excitement, and you hastily shook your head.

“No way. I made a mistake last night, probably not the one you think. Now would you save me the embarrassment of having to talk to him?”

Harrison raised an eyebrow, folding his arms as he poked his cheek with his tongue. “You want me to let my best friend make a stupid arse mistake and let you go?”

“Yes?” you said, voice filled with hope, internally screaming as he rolled his eyes.

“Hurry up then, I guess. He’s gonna go for his morning run in about thirty seconds.”

Throwing your head back in relief, you grinned at him and gave him a thumbs up, twisting the handle and darting from the house just in time. As the door clicked shut, you caught the remnants of Harrison brushing off a confused Tom, covering your back as he told him it was just the postman.

As you practically ran down the street, you tried to push Tom to the back of your mind. He was the last person you wanted to deal with right now, and whatever games he was playing could wait. You had bigger priorities right now, and you intended to not let Tom push you about anymore. That was the last time you let him write the rules; from now on, you were in charge.

You turned left at the end of the street, shoving your way into the familiar café on the high street. Your brain was all kinds of messed up, and before you could even start to think about processing last night you needed a huge mug of coffee and the internet.

“Hey, Gunther,” you smiled, ignoring the awe struck look he gave you. “Medium americano to sit in please.”

“Sure, Y/n. No Sarah today? I, uh, kept the sofa free for you.” You followed where he pointed, but there was basically no need for his reserved sign. The café was practically empty.

“Err thanks. But I just need a computer today.”

“Sure, sure. On the house, I’ll bring your drink over in a bit.” He winked at you as you started over towards the computer bar and nabbed the one closest to the radiator, relief washing over you as warmth covered your frozen body.

You tapped your leg impatiently as you waited for it to boot up, annoyed you’d forgotten your phone charger. You were waiting on what could have been the most important email you’d ever receive in your life, and the deadline was last night. You’d been meaning to keep an eye on it all night, but then things had gotten weird with Tom and you’d just forgotten about it.

Studying physics was the hardest but most rewarding thing you’d ever done, but you were graduating and you needed somewhere to keep pushing your mind. So when your professor had brought up that he needed an assistant to work on a PhD program with him in France, you’d jumped at the chance – travel the world, and get an awesome qualification at the same time. All you’d needed was the funding, and today was the day you would know if everything you’d worked for was coming true.

You were holding your breath as the gmail screen loaded, barely acknowledging Gunther’s comment as he set your coffee down beside you. All you could focus on was the string of black text crossing your screen as your eyes scanned the page and took in what it was saying.

“Dear Miss Y/l/n, congratulations, we are delighted to award you the grant to support your further studies in Paris – OH MY GOD!” You screamed in amazement, choking back sobs as all three of the people in the café turned to stare at you. Jesus, you’d done it. Actually done it. You were going to Paris! PARIS! To study the stars! For free!

Your heart was pounding and you could hear the blood racing in your ears. In a haze of blissful amazement, you snatched your phone of the table to call your mum, before remembering it was dead. You could hardly remember getting to your feet and rushing towards the café’s landline, punching in the only number you could remember.

“Y/n? Oh my god! Where’ve you been? We’ve been so worried, we even called your mum thinking you were back there!” Sarah’s panicked voice screamed through the phone, and you wondered how on earth she knew it was you calling.

“Shh, Sarah, shh just be quiet for a sec, okay? I did it! I got the grant! I’m going to Paris!”

There was stunned silence on the other end of the phone, before she too erupted into a set of screams so deafening you had to hold the phone away from your ear. “Y/n that’s amazing! I’m so happy for you! Have you told your mum?”

“No, my phone’s dead and yours was the only number I could remember!” You giggled, relieved to hear Sarah burst into laughter too.

“Oh God, maybe you should call her. She thinks you’ve been kidnapped!”

You rang off quickly, slumping against the wall, overwhelmed by the whole morning. In just the space of a few hours, you’d gone from utterly humiliated to high on happiness and amazement. You’d worked so hard for this, put in so many extra hours just to get half way to where you were today. And here were the results, your future, all laid out in front of you like a pretty picture.

You were going to Paris, to do something you’d always dreamed of doing, ex-boyfriend be damned.

***

A few days later, you were spread out on your bed, putting away the last of your revision notes when you heard the knock on your bedroom door. Figuring it was Sarah who’d forgot her keys, you turned down the music you had playing softly in the background, and called out to her.

“You’d forget your head if it wasn’t screwed on, numpty,” you laughed, snatching the keys off her desk and heading towards the door.

“Err, actually Y/n, it’s me.”

Your hand froze halfway to the door handle, your body rigid with a strange concoction of fear and excitement. You hadn’t heard his deep, velvety voice since last week, and you hated the way the sound sent shivers through your body. You could almost picture him, slumped against the door frame, his fist hovering over the ‘do not disturb’ sign in his usual deliberate ignoring of the rules.

“What, Tom?” you sighed, flinging the door open. God, you didn’t have time for this. You were leaving for Paris in just over a week and you still hadn’t packed half your stuff.

“Can I talk to you a minute?” he asked, his face unreadable. If he was anything, you would have said he looked scared, and the realisation made you start with the shock of seeing him anything other than cocky.

“If you make it quick, I’m busy,” you snapped, standing to one side to let him in.

“Thanks.”

You clicked your tongue and let the door slam shut, folding your arms as he started looking around your room. He trailed his hands over your bed, and you shuddered at the unwelcome memories that flooded your head, the feeling of his cool fingers against your skin and the familiar, lustful stare he’d always had drowning out any sense of resolve you thought you’d had.

Somehow, you pulled it together enough you jerk him out of his trance. “Well?”

“You’re going to Paris?” he spun around, his tone so accusatory you wanted to slap him. What right did he have to have feelings about your future? When he’d given all that up with just a few words months ago?

“If you must know, yes, I am. It’s for a PhD.”

He snorted and you grit your teeth, about to kick him out if he said anything stupid. “Good, that’s…good. I know you always wanted to do that.”

“Thanks.” You let out the breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding and pursed your lips.

He looked to the side, hunching his shoulders as if he had far more to say but didn’t know if it was smart to say it. You could see the indecision in his eyes, feeling quietly pleased your choice had unsettled him; finally, he was the one being wrong footed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, I didn’t realise I had to run every decision I made by my ex-boyfriend,” you rolled your eyes, restraining yourself from snapping too much.

“It hurt a lot hearing it from Harrison.”

You nodded, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to feel sympathetic. You didn’t know why he felt like he had such a right to your life, when he’d made it blatantly clear he didn’t want to be a part of it anymore. You fiddled with the rings on your fingers at his comments, trying to clear your head enough to form a coherent answer.

“I can’t say I’m sorry, Tom,” you sighed at last, and he nodded. “I don’t know what you want me to say if I’m honest. You ended things and I’m moving on. I’ve got things to be getting on with and they don’t involve you, so I don’t feel overly inclined to keep you updated on my schedule.”

As you spoke, you could feel the anger bubbling up inside you, and you fought to keep it down. You’d worked so hard to make things right, to make it seem like you couldn’t give a damn anymore, and you refused to crumble at the last hurdle.

“I get that,” he nodded. “When did you find out?”

“Last week.”

“And when did you tell Harrison?”

“Last week,” you shrugged, meeting his eye with a steely glare. You were beginning to get annoyed with all of his questions, because he hadn’t even told you what he was doing here. All he’d done so far was waltz in and throw questions at you left, right, and centre, like the entitled prick you’d never thought he was.

“Was he okay with it?” Tom touched his cheek, drawing your eyes to the brief contact, and you shook your head.

“Does it matter, Tom? If you’re so interested, ask him yourself.”

“I wanted to hear it from you.”

“I don’t know why,” you spread your arms wide “you’ve not exactly called since the last time we saw each other. I’m not someone you can just call when you need me and then dump me the next day. If you’re here to do that, then you can piss off now.”

“Of course I’m not here for that!” Tom’s mouth fell open and he sounded genuinely shocked at what you were saying.

“Then why are you here?” you threw your head back, exhausted already from this conversation and wanting nothing more than to run far away.

“I…don’t know,” Tom admitted, collapsing onto your bed. “After you disappeared the other night, I figured that was the end of us, that I’d really blown it that time. I wanted to call you, to set things straight, but you’d made it so clear in the past that you wanted nothing to do with me that I thought maybe it was for the best.”

“Well clearly you changed your mind,” you eyed him, but his words caught at your heart strings.

“I did. I honestly did. I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/n. You’re in my dreams, in my thoughts, hell I can’t go a minute without something reminding me of you, and when Harrison told me about you leaving...” he gulped, leaving his sentence unfinished and glanced up, red rimming his eyes. You stepped towards him and tentatively put your hand on his shoulder, not sure what to say.

“You’re telling me all of this a bit late. And to be honest, after the way you’ve behaved, I’m not sure I believe you.”

“And you have every right not to,” Tom was suddnely on his feet, inches from your face. Your breathing hitched and he swallowed audibly, his hand reaching up to cup your face. “But know that I’m not here to trick you or mislead you, I’m here as one hundred percent myself, and I’m trying to fix the biggest mistake I ever made.”

The contact made you shiver, drawing you further into Tom’s arms. A thousand thoughts swirled in your head as you stared into the deep chocolate pools you’d once known every inch of. Everything about him was intoxicating, from the slippery velvet words that came from his lips to the deep, woody pine smell that made you want to bury your head into every jumper he owned. You were drowning in Tom, and just for a minute you forgot everything that had happened.

All that you remembered was the here and now, the silence stretching for miles between you as you were locked in his embrace. He was inching closer, and your heart was pounding faster, threatening to burst from your chest in an all-consuming, blinding explosion. You weren’t breathing, hardly moving, as he tilted your chin towards him and brought his hand to tangle in your hair. His fingers threaded through the knots with ease, the familiarity a surprise to you as your eyes fluttered closed at his touch. You were moments away from kissing him, and God you wanted to.

But wanting was not the same as needing.

You stepped back abruptly, watching hurt cross Tom’s face as swiftly as though you’d plunged a knife into his chest. You tried to say something, anything, but the words got caught in your throat, and instead you were breathing hard and gasping for air, the sudden loss of contact a shock. How did you explain to him how you felt? Now you were the one that had ripped away something good, something beautiful, and being on the other side of it felt awful.

But you knew, you were certain, that kissing Tom would only bring you more hurt than you’d already had, and you weren’t sure your heart could take anymore.

“I’m…I’m sorr…sorry,” you stuttered, feeling hot tears start sliding down your face.

Tom shook his head slowly and looked down at the floor. You weren’t certain, but you were almost positive you’d seen the glassy covering of tears just about to fall. “It’s alright.”

“I, um, I think you should go,” you mumbled, twiddling with your fingers. Your heart had broken so many times over this guy that you just wanted to let yourself be alone for once, to feel and suffer and wallow in the overwhelming sadness and heart break that followed you and Tom wherever you went. Perhaps this time, it would finally teach you a lesson.

He met your eyes with a desperate look, but this time he didn’t close the space between you. The anticipation hung in the air as you both waited for the other to make a move, and suddenly the overwhelming urge to run towards him and kiss him until you couldn’t breathe took over your rational brain. You fought it down with a harsh wipe of your cheek, feeling the tackiness of the tears there drying on your palm.

At last, Tom nodded, and started towards the door, grabbing the jacket he’d tossed over the chair. “Y/n?” he glanced over his shoulder.

“Yeah?” you said at last, barely looking him in the eye.

“For what it’s worth, I really am sorry.”

And then he was gone, disappearing from your room as quickly as he’d come without so much as a goodbye. As soon as the door had slammed shut, you felt your heart shatter, and you fell to the floor as your knees gave way, all the strength you’d held suddenly ebbing away.

Tears poured down your reddened face, your hands thrust into your hair as you sobbed into your knees. You curled them into your chest, desperately pulling yourself close in an attempt to shut out the encroaching world that had crushed your fragile body so many times over. It seemed unfair, almost cruel, that this was happening again – you were reliving that horrible night all over again, and you just wanted it to stop.

This was supposed to be a good day. A positive day. Where you’d moved on and were planning for an exciting future. Except now you’d been stripped right back to core, your emotions exposed and everything torn to shreds. Your heart was laying naked somewhere in Tom’s palms, your tears running through the cracks in his skin. Because as much as you hated to admit it, there was still a part of you that longed to chase after him, beg him to stay.

And it was the very part of you that had destroyed you.

***

Departure day came quicker than you’d expected, and you were still reeling from Tom. Harrison and Sarah came with you to say goodbye, their hugs lingering as you stood in the departure lounge.

“I’m gonna miss you!” Sarah sobbed, scraping at her cheeks as fresh tears rolled down them.

“Not as much as I’m gonna miss you,” you laughed. “But you can come visit any time you like.”

“That better be the same for me too, Miss Y/l/n,” Harrison smirked, pulling you into his arms.

“What? You’re the British one here, Harrison, you can make a day trip whenever you fancy!”

“Consider that done,” he winked, and you swatted him on the arm. You exchanged a look with him as the laughter died, both knowing he wouldn’t have been the only British boy with you today if things had gone differently.

“For what it’s worth, Y/n, I’m sure he would have come,” Harrison sighed, stroking your arm.

“Yeah, right,” Sarah scoffed “he didn’t call, didn’t text, just left her there on the floor after ripping her heart out again.”

“Tom’s an idiot, we all know that, but he’s decent when he’s not being stupid.”

“Unfortunately, he’s being stupid most of the time,” you muttered, glancing down at your phone one last time in the hopes he might have changed his mind. But the screen was still blank, just your regular old Spiderman background staring you in the face.

Suddenly, a voice came over the tannoy, and dread filled your stomach. “This is the last call for flight 217 to Paris, France. Please proceed to Gate 48.”

“Well, that’s me,” you gulped, turning to your friends with wide eyes. “Is it normal to be this scared?”

“Moving to another country all by yourself? Of course it is,” Harrison smiled warmly, and you trusted him the most. After all, he’d done it four years ago. “But you’ll be back for graduation next month. By then you’ll have forgotten all of the nerves and you’ll be a proper Parisian.”

You laughed and gathered your bags, giving them one final hug before starting towards the gate. “I love you guys!” You called over your shoulder.

“We love you too!”

You disappeared into passport control, fear filling your stomach. That was it, the last sighting of any familiar faces for a very long time, and it was of Harrison answering the phone. As you handed your passport over to the stern looking lady at the booth, you couldn’t help but wonder if what Harrison said was true, if being a Parisian really was that simple. It didn’t seem it, but if Tom could make a new life in a completely different country, then you sure as hell could to.

Tom. Oh God. You hadn’t wanted to think about him. Not now, when any thought of him previously had left you a crippling mess and unable to talk. Numbly, you took your passport back and wandered into the concourse, looking for directions to Gate 48. Anything to distract you from what might have been.

When you finally found your gate, your head was still full of thoughts of Tom and everything you should’ve said, and the lady checking your boarding pass had to ask you three times before you registered she was talking to you.

“Is everything okay, love?” she asked, stamping the ticket.

“Oh, yeah,” you shrugged “just a lot going on right now I guess.”

“Yeah, I’d say so. You only just got here in time, take off is in fifteen minutes.”

“Thanks,” you smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes, and she stuck her hand out as you tried to walk past.

“Guy trouble?” she narrowed her eyes and you jumped in shock.

“How did you-?”

“Oh please, I see enough young men and women walking through these gates every day looking a little lost. And Paris? Is there any please more obvious to go to for a broken heart?”

“I thought it was the city of love?” you raised an eyebrow, and the woman laughed.

“Of course darling, that’s why it’s perfect for heartbreak.”

Her words rattled around in your skull, ‘darling’ working its way through the layers of iron around your heart and embedding itself into the tissue. That was what he had called you. You hadn’t thought about the word in days, and here this woman was, so casually saying it, as if you hadn’t had your heart torn in two by the very man who practically invented the word.

Images of Tom swam before your eyes, the brown curls and dimpled smile nestling into your mind. You felt tears prick in your eyes as the memory of his voice swirled through his ears, so realistic you could’ve sworn he was right next to you.

“Wait!”

It was so random, it was like he was there. You could hear him yelling, a cruel trick your mind was determined to play, and yet it was so real.

“Y/n, please, wait!”

He sounded out of breath, but at the sound of your name you spun around in surprise, dropping your rucksack in shock as Tom came sprinting through the crowd. He was wearing his usual black t-shirt and jeans, but he was clutching a small strip of paper and racing towards you.

“Y/n!”

“Is that you?” the woman who’d stamped your ticket asked with a knowing smile.

“Tom?” your mouth fell open “what are you doing here?”

He skidded to a stop, the eyes of hundreds of passengers trained on him as he bent double and gasped for breath. “I…couldn’t…let…you…leave…without saying…goodbye.”

“What?” you balked, not sure what to say. Your flight was leaving in less than ten minutes – of course Tom would cock this up for you.

“Y/n, please, please don’t go,” he gripped your shoulders, pulling you against his chest. At first, you resisted, but at the sight of his pleading eyes and desperate voice, you collapsed against you, and his chin fell on your head. “Oh God, I thought I’d missed you.”

“How’d you even get in here?” you asked.

“Bought a ticket.”

“You did what?”

“Apparently I’m on the second flight out to Canada now,” he grinned, stepping away from you.

“You did all that to ask me to stay?” your mouth moved before you could think, but Tom was nodding vigorously, still panting.

“I got the wrong airport at first, then I rang Haz and he told me you’d just gone into passport control. I figured I had enough time to make it, but then I got here and your flight wasn’t on the departures board.” So that was the phone call Haz had taken as you’d left.

“You know, asking me to stay isn’t possible, Tom,” you sighed as reality hit you like a truck “I’ve got a job to do, and I want this so badly. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. Asking me to give all that up for you when you broke my heart is…a lot.”

“I know, I know. Okay, look, don’t stay then. But let me follow you.”

“Tom…” you started, shaking your head “this is all so complicated.”

“Well let me make it less complicated for you then,” he said, and suddenly you were kissing, and stars were exploding behind your closed eyes. His lips moved with yours, sending sparks of electricity racing through your veins. Your skin crawled as a thousand fires spread across your body, heat warming your chilled bones. It was everything you needed and didn’t want at the same time, but it felt right, it felt good, and suddenly you knew you should have kissed him the day he’d come to your dorm.

When you broke apart, the lady at the desk was clearing her throat as the final warning bell sounded. “Miss Y/l/n, are you boarding this plane or not?”

You glanced between her and Tom, the prospect of the future or the enticement of the past. You knew what would win out, you were too sensible to give into a guy who’d just run through an airport for you – but there was no reason you couldn’t have both.

“I am,” you nodded, picking up your rucksack and smiling at Tom, whose eyes had widened slightly. “There’s another flight out in two hours. Change your ticket and come with me.”

“Will you meet me there?” he called out as you started walking backwards.

“I’ll be waiting,” you replied, blowing him a kiss. Suddenly, everything felt right again. Maybe Tom would break your heart again, maybe he wouldn’t. But the prospect of forever didn’t mean much right now, you were too busy living your life. All that could come – for now, you just had to focus on your future and taking one step at a time. If Tom was really that serious about you, he’d show it soon enough.

And if he didn’t? Well then, you’d be okay with that too. Because something told you, as you walked away, that whatever was to come would be brilliant.

And you couldn’t wait to find out what it was.

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239 notes · View notes

xxisxxisxxis · 4 years

Text

Gateway Drug | Part Fifty-Four

Word Count: 3.8k

Warning(s): explicit language, explicit sexual situations

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My breath hitches in my throat as Nikki's tongue runs up my sweat cloaked spine as he slowly thrusts in and out of me, after giving me a couple of minutes to adjust to him, the sensation causing my thighs shake and my toes to curl, my bottom lip being pulled in by my teeth.

My knuckles ball the sheets up as I bury my face into the covers to keep from waking Karen up as he pushes himself into me to the hilt, causing my eyes to roll back in my head as I'm pretty sure I'm now soaking our bed, arching my back as he holds at my hips and runs his hands softly over my skin before giving a harsh slap to my ass, causing me to tighten around him and he let's out a breathy groan.

His fingers move to reach between my legs to massage at my clit, only adding to the nearly paralyzing sensation.

I gather myself and get my face from the mattress, looking at him over my shoulder, grinning.

"I think you can go faster than that." I gasp out through pleasure, my expression taunting him a little bit, and he looks at me like I just made a mistake.

Soon enough I'm practically clawing at the sheets, my tongue bleeding from having to bite into it to keep from screaming out as Nikki delivers stroke after stroke into me.

I can't even say anything other than moan and nearly shriek when he purposely pushes himself into me as far as my body will let him, only sending tremors down my legs to my toes.

He pulls put of me briefly before roughly turning me over, grinning at me before pushing himself back in.

"Nikki--I--" I breathe out, my back arching, my chest heaving with deep, desperate breaths. "--I c-can't..." tears are forming in my eyes, and I'm about to tell him to just get off of me so we can shower and just have our usual sex instead because I actually feel like my body can't take much more stimulation.

But he's not having it.

Instead, like always, he's taking advantage of it.

"No, no, no, you're not getting out of it that easy." He tells me, slowing down some and I squeeze my eyes closed for a second, clawing at his hand holding at my thigh.

His fingers go back to my clit, and he looks me in the eye, that smug smirk on his face because he knows he's trying to fucking kill me.

Suddenly, two of his fingers push into my already soaked pussy that's swollen from receiving two rounds of rough attention from Nikki's prick already, as the thumb of his other hand rolls over my clit that's been overly sensitized from nearly thirty minutes if him going down on me, and he continues his tortuous thrusting into me, only picking up his pace again and his fingers and thumb are in sync with his cock completely.

"Nikki!" I don't care if Karen hears me, or if I wake up the neighbors, I can't help but scream out as I probably look like a scene from the exorcist, my back arching to a point where it looks like it might break with tears streaming consistently from my eyes that are screwed shut.

The mind shattering build up to my orgasm starts to collect, my body feeling full and ready to explode.

He thinks it's the most entertaining thing, seeing his innocent church girl sobbing, writhing and screaming in ecstasy all at his mercy in the middle of sodomy.

I can't make the words "I'm about to come" leave my mouth before liquid is spilling over his fingers, streaming out of me, my whole body spasming as I struggle to breathe, my head spinning.

He pulls out of me, uttering "fuck" under his breath as threads of his cum paint my stomach before he falls beside me on the bed, the both of us catching our breath.

"Are you gonna live?" He asks me with a laugh, after a couple minutes of me trying to catch my breath and calm my body down.

"I remember why we only do that on special occasions." I look at him, my eyes probably red from crying uncontrollably.

He just grins, shaking his head a little, his black, messy hair nearly taking up his pillow completely.

"You know, Duff told me a while ago that you two worked a plan out to get that place bought and renovated to decent shape for me to use." I say softly, turning over to face him. "He bought it and you paid for it to be fixed."

"I figured you knew...you conveniently stopped going when renovations started." He licks his lips.

"You conveniently shot me and I could barely put weight on my leg for nearly two weeks." I add and he let's out a breath.

"I know I'm not worth a shit right now, Viv, baby, I get it." He turns over on his back to face the ceiling.

"I didn't say that."

"I'm trying." He adds.

"Are you?" I ask as softly as I can to keep from pissing him off, looking at him and he closes his eyes for a second before looking at me.

"When's the last time I hit a pipe, huh?"

"We have a refrigerator full of smack."

"You don't know what's in those bags." He scoffs.

"Do you think I'm an idiot, Nikki? I mean, really?"

He just rolls his jaw, avoiding my eyes on him.

"Look me in the eye and tell me you are doing everything you possibly can to be better?"

He just sits up.

"I could throw the fucking drugs out, Vivian, and still not be good enough."

"Nikki, you know I don't think you're not good enough for m--"

"--I didn't say anything about not being good enough to meet your standards."

"Who's standards then?"

He's about to say something, but catches himself.

"My own, I guess, I don't know." He says under his breath.

He could have gotten rid of the drugs, but that wouldn't have gotten rid of Vanity, and he knew that.

Honestly, he was growing tired of her quickly, and was trying to find a way to put an end to things without her getting mad and telling me because he was paranoid that's exactly what she would have done.

But he was also terrified to tell me he was sixx foot deep in the situation called "Vanity" and didn't know how to climb out because he was afraid I would leave him.

So he stayed caught between a wife and a mistress, hoping the latter would grow tired and give way so he could escape the growing pressure and paranoia creeping on him with each day.

We get a shower to clean up and I pull the comforter off the bed that's wet with cum and throw it in front of the washer before grabbing the blankets off the couch to cover up with.

It's 3:10am, and Nikki's dressed and pulling his cowboy boots on, causing me to look at him like he's crazy.

"You're leaving?" I ask him, weakly.

"I'll be back when you wake up." He assures me, crouching down to brush his fingers through my hair.

"Please be careful." I plead, my hand grasping at his. "Please."

He nods, smiling a little before reaching his hand under the bed, handing me a wrapped gift.

"One more Valentine's Day gift." He tells me and I sit up, taking it, pulling at the paper.

I open it, seeing soft, white leather and gold words that read "Holy Bible."

I look at him and he just smiles, giving a shrug.

"Figured I should since I burned your other one." He adds.

"I started that fight, Nikki. You finished it. I shouldn't have broken your awards to begin with."

"Vivian, you broke the frames that could be replaced. And were replaced. Those awards don't mean a fucking thing to me, anyway." He shakes his head. "This," he taps his finger on the bible. "Means the world to you. I shouldn't have done what I did, as comfortably as I did it, just to prove a point." He states.

"It's okay, Nikki." I reply, smiling at him.

"I'm gonna get better, alright?" He says suddenly and I meet his eyes. "I'm gonna get outta this and I'll stay out. And I won't be as mean or weird and you won't hate me so much." He laughs it out but it hurts me that he thinks I hate him.

"I could never hate you, Nikki." I say.

"I don't know, I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you." Again, he's saying it light heartedly but it's a mask.

"Nikki, you're my world." I say to him, and his smile fades. "You have been since 1981, even before I even knew you were. If something ever happened to you, they'd have to either take me out with you or keep me sedated in a mental institution. I wouldn't know what the hell I would do without you." I inform him. "I could never hate you."

It's obvious that he wasn't expecting me to say this.

He just clears his throat before standing back up, grabbing his bike keys.

"I'll be back later." He tells me, seeming like he's avoiding acknowledging what I just said to him.

He kisses me before heading to the bedroom door.

"Goodnight, baby." He says.

"Goodnight, Nikki." I reply as he walks out.

I wait for the sound of his bike leaving, before I open my new bible, seeing he's written my name in the "presented to" slot, and put his in the "presented by" space, and filled in the date.

That's not something I ever expected to see Nikki's name in.

I file through it, seeing the little ribbon attached as a bookmark is held between the back cover and the content itself.

Just as I flip there to put the ribbon in the pages themselves, I see Nikki had it there for a reason.

On the back cover, there's a passage of Nikki's handwriting that starts with "Vivian."

The phone's ringing before I can read it, and I put the book down and get up to answer, only to be met by Karen coming out to answer it.

"Hello?" She answers it for me, sleepiness encapsulating her tone.

Her eyes flicker to me, her face growing nearly pale, and I get a bad feeling settling in me.

"Yes, Ma'am, she's right here." She hands me the phone and I furrow my brows a little before exhaling.

"Hello?"

"Yes, Mrs. Sixx this is Analise with Los Angeles Medical Center. I'm calling because we have a patient in our intensive care unit, currently, who has you listed as their emergency contact." She informs me and I want to tell her to be more specific because I'm listed as several people's emergency contact currently. "Tansalyn Reilen."

Tansy's body, growing tired from her constant drug abuse, had started telling her it was about to give out.

I quickly make my way through the lot of the hospital, stepping into the emergency room to see Steven and Duff waiting in the waiting room.

"What the hell happened?!" I ask, stepping to them.

Duff goes to open his mouth but Steven cuts him off.

"I-I don't know what happened, it was just some blow, Viv." He says, panicked, and my eyes widen.

"Just some blow?!" I outburst.

"Viv--" Duff starts but I stop him.

"You can fuck off since you're the one that bailed her out of going to rehab in the first place!" I snap at Duff and he furrows his brows.

"Hey, lose it, Viv, I'm not Nikki and I'm not putting up with it." He tells me, alcohol on his breath.

"No, you certainly aren't Nikki no matter how badly you try to be." I hiss.

"If I wanted to be Nikki I'd start shooting junk and talking down to you." It's said in a slur and I ball my hands up in fists.

"Guys, hey!" Steven stops me from arguing. "Viv, seriously, just calm down." He pleads and I let out a heavy breath.

"Where is she at now?" I ask him, ignoring Duff before he slumps back down into a chair.

"They said they were gonna do a cardio thing with electricity to see how bad the damage is...I really don't know what happened, I had a line from the same bindle and nothing happened to me."

"God." I breathe out, rubbing my forehead. "Alright, I'm gonna go ask her to tell me when they get done with testing." I nod to the receptionist and he nods.

It takes two more hours until the woman is calling me up to the counter for a visitor's pass and telling me where to go.

Once I get to Tansy's room, she looks like absolute hell as a nurse helps to get her situated.

Her dead eyes look up to see me and she grins, tiredly.

"Hey, Viv." She tells me as I step closer to her bed.

"Hey, Tans." I reply, the nurse glancing up at me.

"He should be in soon with tox-screen results and he'll explain the results of the electrocardiogram." The nurse informs me.

"I got in trouble." Tansy whispers to me.

"Well, the doctor who delivered you from the womb probably doesn't want to you die for something that could have been prevented." I reply in the same tone.

"I gathered that from his scolding." She nods.

"Alright, call if you need anything. He should be here shortly." The nurse reminds us.

"Thank you." We both say simultaneously as she steps out.

When we're alone, Tansy sits up and starts untaping her aspirin-IV drip, about to pull the needle from her hand.

"Uh, what are you doing?" I ask her.

"Viv, I can't stay here. I'm gonna start jonesing in a few hours and I doubt the nurses will sneak me anything."

"Tansy, you just had a heart attack, are you crazy?" I stop her from taking the IV needle from herself.

"Viv, I need to get outta here."

"Tansy, I swear to God, you are turning more and more into Nikki and it scares me. You're lucky you didn't die. Your heart is damaged and trying to recover. If you go load up on blow or smack, you will not live."

She looks desperate, her blue eyes watering, her cracked lips quivering.

The door opens in a moment and her doctor comes in, clearing his throat.

"You must be Vivian." He greets me and I nod.

"Alright, the main culprit of this is cocaine which can cause the coronary artery to spasm, which temporarily constricts the blood flow to the heart and the lack of oxygen causes sections of the heart to suffocate and die, which triggers a heart attack." He tells us. "Tansalyn, you will be able to recover, but at the rate you are going, I don't see you surviving another scare like this." He explains to us short and sweet, and I let out a breath. "Now, we're going to give you a temporary pace-maker to correct your bradycardia once we're out of the woods, but I will be keeping you for at least five days to make sure your body doesn't take a left turn out of nowhere." He adds.

"I can't stay here for five days. I have a photoshoot Thursday." She tells him and he looks at me.

"Tansy, your health is more important than your work."

"If I cancel they're gonna wanna know why and I can't let my mom know this happened. She'll kill me. And I can't hide a pacemaker from her."

Her doctor and I exchange looks.

I can't talk sense into her. I know who can, though.

"I'll be right back." I tell them, stepping out of the room to go to the waiting room to use the payphone, dialing the number.

"Hello?" Axl's tired voice says on the other end.

Tansy's always listened to Axl more than anybody else. I think it's because he kind of scared her back then, but she respected him because he really did have a good head on his shoulders...he just didn't know how to properly handle his feelings at times.

By the time Axl takes my place in the room with Tansy, I go back to the waiting room, Duff and Steven both asleep.

I wake them up and they startle slightly, rubbing their faces.

"Axl's gonna stay here with her, he told us to go home." I tell them.

"Axl's here?" Steven yawns.

"Yeah. Do you guys need a ride? I brought the Jeep so there's room for you two." I offer.

"Nah, I'm done the block at a chick's house." Steven tells me, and I glance at Duff.

"I'll walk." He mumbles.

"Duff--"

"Nah, really, Viv. Don't worry about it, I got it." He assures me as Steven puts his arm around me, kissing my cheek.

"I love you. I'll see you later." He tells me.

"I love you, too, Stevie." I reply.

"Bye, man." He says to Duff and Duff stands up, towering over him.

"Later, Stevie." He tells him, stretching and yawning.

Steven gives us a wave before leaving and I walk with Duff as he follows behind him, but goes a different direction once we get outside.

"Duff, really, I can take you to the apartment."

"It's fine, Viv."

"Duff, I'm sorry for earlier, okay? I shouldn't have said that."

"Rehab wouldn't have helped her any if she was only going to make people happy, Vivian."

"I know."

"So it's not my fucki--it's not my fault she's in this mess." He tries to keep himself from cussing at me.

"I know."

"And I'm not trying to be Nikki so I don't even know where that came from. I don't want to be him. I'm perfectly happy being Duff McKagan."

"I know." I grab at his wrist before we can pass the Jeep, stopping him and he let's out a heavy breath. "I'm sorry for saying all of that. I was just angry and was taking it out on you and I shouldn't do that."

"No, you shouldn't." He states, looking down at me.

Neither of us says anything for a moment, just looking at each other.

I notice his buzzed eyes glancing down at my lips and I make a little more distance between us, letting go of his wrist.

"I'm gonna go home." I mumble, tucking a strand of red hair behind my ear.

"Yeah, you should." He agrees, licking his lips.

Neither of us bother to move, and he looks like he wants to tell me something.

"Okay, goodnight, Duff." I go to step by him to get to my car but he grasps at my arm gently, turning to face me, tugging me closer to him.

"Viv." He says, and my heart pounds in my chest, his eyes burning into mine.

"Yeah?" I ask, trying to get some space between us again and he acts like he's about to say something but stops.

"Goodnight." He states.

"Goodnight, and thank you for bringing Tansy." I give him a small smile before he's letting me go so I can get in my car and go home.

The sun's coming up by the time I get home, and when I get in the house and get to our bedroom, Nikki's laying down, halfway in the closet, half out, and Vanity's in the bed, wearing one of my Mötley Crüe shirts, and my new bible is nowhere to be seen.

Nikki had gotten home and hidden my bible to keep Vanity from finding the letter in the back of it, and after my lack of reaction to the letter, and finding out I had to go to Tansy before even getting to read it, he decided it would be best if I never read it. Obviously, I didn't know this, I just thought either he or Vanity had lost it...

It wasn't until Mötley Crüe was in Japan for the "Girls" tour that I found it.

Vivian,

I don't know if it's offensive to write in one of these, but my place in hell is already solidified so I might as well piss God off some more. Sorry, I know you don't like when I say I'm going to hell even though we both know it's true. The one problem I have with where I'm fated to spend eternity, is that I know you won't be there. I realized this exactly one year ago. I came pretty close to being over with and I would be burning currently (or just laying in the fucking ground, or flying around as a reincarnated bird, whatever the hell happens to us when we go) had I not made it through. I know I'm scaring you with how much I do, Viv. I hear you talking to God about it when you pray. You're afraid I'm not going to wake up one day. I'm afraid, too. I know, right, Nikki Sixx is scared of something, who would've thought? I'm afraid I'm going to take my last breath without telling you how much I love you. I knew I loved you that night you snuck me into your window and asked me to help you bullshit that damn thesis paper for your final. That was six years ago, almost, and I wish I would have been telling you that I love you all along, maybe it would have changed the path of certain things that have happened. I'm sorry for what I've done, what I'm doing, and what I will do. It's my cross to carry. It's not your fault, it never has been, it never will be. I hope you can forgive me if I'm not here this time next year...if I don't get any better, I'll be in a coffin before our tour ends. Jeez, this sounds like a suicide note. I promise that's not why I'm writing this. I hope I'm around as long as you are. I hope we're together in the next life, whether it's as two birds that mate for life, pecking at each other's eyes, or our spirits just find one another. If God is real, all I'll need is for him to let me know you've made it up there and that you'll be okay, and I'll go to Hell and take the brimstone and fire for all the damage I've done. Just don't forget me, whatever happens. I won't ever forget you. I love you, Vivian. I won't ever forget you. I love you.

‐-Nikki

#nikki sixx #mötley crüe #nikki sixx fanfiction #nikki sixx x oc #gateway drug

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