#(tosses them and goes to bed) i will confront this tomorrow

[captainmvf]

My two sonas/self-inserts for Fossil Fighters I made this year!

Mags the Fossil Sighter is my obvious go-to one though since Aeron is an alternate universe idea. I have no shame in admitting that Joe Wildwest is my #1 fictional crush and I made the first ref to commission friends to draw them together. 

Aeron is just a nerdy dinurian who likes Earth comic books. 

[wizardofrozz]

Welcome to Westview!

Warnings: swearing, mention of past trauma, mention of character death

A/N: Okay so this is pretty long (compared to other chapters) but I didn’t want to break it up into two chapters 😬 I felt like it would ruin the flow. But I’m excited for this chapter mainly because I have a soft spot for Thor and adore him ❤ Also side note, obviously the compound was destroyed in Endgame so this takes place in the Avengers Mansion (from the comics) in New York City. And I wrote Bruce as if he didn’t merge with the Hulk.

Chapter 10

Thor POV

A few days earlier…

           “Are you sure they should go?” I questioned, pacing through the kitchen of the mansion.

           “Do you really think they’re going to care if you tell them not to go?” Sam retorted. I stopped my pacing and glared at Sam but didn’t argue; I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the counter.

           “I don’t like this,” I grumbled, closing my eyes.

           “Buddy, relax. They’ll be fine,” Bruce cut in. I felt a hand on my shoulder, knowing Bruce was trying to comfort me, but it only irritated me. “Bucky is a super soldier that adores (Y/N) and would never let anything happen to her. Clint is, well, Clint, but he still cares.” Bruce squeezed my shoulder and smiled at me, continuing to talk. “Let’s not forget that (Y/N) is an immensely powerful Asgardian sorceress; her magic and enhanced abilities alone could keep her safe. Wanda is just as powerful on her own too, so I think they’ll be okay, Thor.”

           “I’m not worried about them being able to protect themselves!” I shouted, scaring Bruce. “They’re going to confront an organization that we know nothing about! They could try and capture the four of them regardless of how powerful they are.” I shook off Bruce’s hand and went back to pacing around the kitchen; I glanced at Sam, catching an odd look on his face. “What, Sam?”

           “I thought you were just paranoid, but now that I think about it, I kind of agree with you,” Sam mumbled. “We don’t know who these people are.”

           “Thank you!” I shouted, throwing my hands up.

           “Alright, relax, guys. Let’s give them until tomorrow, and if they aren’t back, we’ll go from there,” Bruce offered.

           “Tomorrow!” I shouted again.

           “Thor, calm down,” Sam tried.

           “No, I’m not waiting that long,” I barked.

           “Yes, you are,” Bruce declared. I opened my mouth to fire something back, but the look in Bruce’s eyes stopped me. “The four of them are heartbroken right now. Clint had to watch Natasha sacrifice herself, and Steve left Bucky behind when he needs him the most. Wanda had to kill Vision, then watch him die AGAIN, and (Y/N) had to watch Thanos squeeze the life out of Loki.” Bruce stopped for a moment to collect himself. “The four of them just lost they loved deeply, the one person they connected with on a different level than anyone else. They are all on the verge of self-destructing, so even if everything goes as planned, they may not come back right away. And it would be best if you accepted that,” Bruce finished. A wave of grief and sadness washed over me when it finally sunk in; we lost so many people, and now we’re supposed to move on.

           “We lost them all too,” I whispered.

           “I know. Just remember who we’re talking about. The four of them have never been good at handling loss, so they may just need some space,” Bruce sighed.

           “Alright,” I sighed. “We’ll check in tomorrow morning.” I walked out of the kitchen, having no idea where I was going but deciding I needed to just walk.

***

I tossed and turned most of the night, sleeping in spurts between nightmares and waking up most times panting with tear-stained cheeks. The last nightmare woke me around 6 am; I fell back into bed, staring at the ceiling before realizing I wasn’t going to fall back asleep. I threw the blankets off my lap and pulled on sweatpants and a hoodie; I padded down the hallway, running my fingers through my now short hair, lost in thought.

           “You’re up early,” Sam greeted when I walked into the kitchen.

           “Couldn’t sleep anymore,” I grumbled, heading for the coffee machine.

           “Nightmares?” Sam asked, keeping his eyes on the paper in his hand.

           “…yeah,” I whispered, keeping my back to him.

           “Me too,” Sam whispered. I let out a heavy sigh, bracing myself on the counter as I listened to the coffee machine sputter. “You’re looking good, though, man.” I turned to face Sam this time, raising an eyebrow at him, causing him to laugh softly. “Three weeks ago, you still weren’t looking too hot, but you seem to be getting better.” I glanced down at myself, laughing softly with Sam.

           “I am a god; getting back in shape isn’t difficult. I just…didn’t care,” I replied. I rubbed a hand over my stomach, smiling softly when I felt the faint outline of muscles instead of the gut I was sporting for a while.

           “You look good, happier,” Sam replied softly. “I definitely think the beard is worth keeping.” Surprisingly, I laughed, shaking my head; Sam smiled over his coffee cup and went back to reading the paper. “Thank god you cut your hair, though. Dreadlocks aren’t your look,” Sam mumbled with a smirk. I laughed again as I turned to pour some coffee; I blew on the hot liquid, staring at the floor when I heard faint footsteps.

           “Morning, Banner,” I greeted, causing him to jump.

           “Why are we having a party in the kitchen at 6:30 in the morning?” Bruce laughed.

           “Nightmares,” Sam and I chorused. Bruce’s face fell slightly, and he nodded, making his way to the coffee machine as well.

           “Any word from Bucky, Wanda, (Y/N), or Clint?” Sam asked. I blinked lamely, almost forgetting that they were still gone; I pulled the Stark phone out of my pocket and checked the screen. The only notification was a text Bucky sent yesterday, right after they left the city.

           “Nothing,” I sighed, slipping the phone back into my pocket.

           “Me either,” Bruce mumbled over the lip of his cup. Sam opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted when Bruce’s phone started ringing. “Hello?” Bruce stood still for a few moments, listening. “Uh, sure. Thor and Sam are here with me.” Bruce fell silent again, his eyes falling shut. “Okay, see you soon.” Bruce pulled the phone away from his ear and narrowed his eyes at the screen.

           “Everything okay?” Sam asked softly.

           “I don’t know,” Bruce whispered.

           “Who was it?” I pressed, stepping closer to Bruce.

           “Dr. Strange. He said he needed to talk to us about something that popped up in New Jersey.” Bruce glanced at me, then Sam, then back to his phone, his brows still furrowed in confusion.

           “When’s he going to be here?” Sam probed.

           “I’m here.” I jumped at the voice, spinning around to see the wizard standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

           “How about making some damn noise!” Sam cursed, pressing a hand to his chest.

           “I did,” Strange replied with a smirk.

           “Hello, Stephen,” Bruce greeted.

           “Dr. Banner.” Strange walked into the kitchen, stopping at the island that Sam was still sitting at, and braced himself on the end. “Instead of wasting our time making small talk, then you asking why I’m here, I’m just going to start briefing you.” Strange glanced around the kitchen at the three of us, waiting for any objection.

           “Go for it,” Sam urged, narrowing his eyes.

           “Wonderful.” Strange stood and clapped his hands, the sharp sound echoing through the quiet kitchen. “So, I picked up on an anomaly in New Jersey late last night but shook it off, thinking maybe it was a momentary pulse of energy. Well, I was very wrong.”

           “Okay? What does this have to do with the Avengers?” Sam leaned back, his eyes still skeptically roaming over the wizard.

           “I’m not quite sure if it does involve the Avengers. SWORD has already started to set up around it, but I don’t know how much good they’ll do.” I watched Strange pace along the end of the island, wringing his hands as he spoke. “All I know is that whatever is going on, it’s big, and it’s powerful.”

           “Are you trying to ask us to go see what’s going on?” I questioned. I glanced at Bruce and Sam, which made me feel better because at least I wasn’t the only one still completely confused about this visit.

           “Yes,” Strange finally replied.

           “Okay,” Bruce said with a shrug.

           “Really?” Strange raised an eyebrow at Bruce, skeptical that he agreed.

           “We’re the Avengers. Well, what’s left of them….” I trailed off, swallowing around the sudden lump in my throat. “This is something we’d usually handle.”

           “Thank you,” Strange sighed, leaning against the counter again. “Wait, I thought there were at least a few others too.” I tensed, subtly looking over at Sam, who let out a long sigh while Bruce shuffled in place next to me.

           “The other four are…away at the moment,” I mumbled. “If we need backup, we’ll call them, but SWORD is there, so we should be fine.” Strange tilted his head, but when none of us would meet his gaze, he just nodded once, sighing softly.

           “Okay, thank you again. Let me know what’s going on, please.”

           “Of course,” Bruce replied automatically.

           “I’ll talk to you soon.” Strange created a portal directly behind him; he stepped through, nodding once in farewell, then the portal snapped shut.

           “Well, let’s get moving, gentlemen,” Sam huffed, pushing away from the island.

***

The trip from the mansion to the coordinates that Strange had sent Bruce wasn’t long, but it was far from comfortable.

           “This is torture,” I mumbled from the passenger seat.

           “You’re being a baby,” Bruce snapped from the backseat.

           “You’re a baby!” I shouted, twisting in my seat to glare at him. I looked over at Sam when I heard a thud and saw Sam hitting his forehead off the steering wheel. “You’re going to hurt yourself, Sam.”

           “Good!” Sam yelled, sitting back in his seat. “The two of you arguing is going to drive me insane.”

           “Thor’s just mad that we have to drive because of me,” Bruce snapped from the backseat.

           “Yes!” I bellowed, glaring at him again.

           “Would you two shut it!” Sam yelled. “Goddamn.” I stuck my tongue out at Bruce before turning back around in my seat, staring out the windshield; I watched the trees pass in a blur as we got closer to the coordinates. “We’re almost there,” Sam stated after another 10 minutes. Sam steered the car out of the tunnel of trees and slamming on the breaks, sending Bruce tumbling to the floor; I caught myself on the dashboard, accidentally denting it. “What the fuck!” The car finally stopped before we hit the armored vehicle that was sticking too far into the road.

           “What moron decided on this setup?” I snorted. Sam slowly started to navigate through the maze of vehicles and tents, only stopping when the path became too narrow.

           “Let’s go find whoever’s in charge. Strange said his name was Haywood or something,” Bruce stated from the backseat. I climbed out of the SUV, glancing over at Sam, who shot me a worried look before tentatively trekking forward.

           “I’m guessing the big tent is the best place to start,” Bruce whispered as he stepped up on my other side. I was too preoccupied with all the tents and vehicles scattered around the field that I didn’t notice the man walking out of the tent we were heading towards. I tensed, standing straighter as he got closer, looking down and tugging on the bottom of my t-shirt.

           “Hello, gentlemen!” I snapped my gaze up to see a tall, professional-looking man walking towards us, an obviously forced smile on his face. “I’m Tyler Hayward, acting director of SWORD. How can I help you?”

           “I’m Sam Wilson, and these are Thor Odinson and Bruce Banner. We were told you would be expecting us.” Hayward’s smile faltered slightly, but he recovered quickly, clapping his hands and nodding.

           “Of course, you’re the Avengers coming to check in,” Hayward recalled.

           “That’s us,” Bruce laughed wryly.

           “Well, follow me. I’ll catch you up on what we have so far.” The three of us followed Hayward towards the tent he came from, catching odd looks from SWORD agents as we walked through the command center. “So, to be completely honest, we don’t really have much yet.”

           “Do you have anything yet?” Bruce questioned, narrowing his eyes at the acting director.

           “Dr. Banner, why don’t you go back to the main room. The agents out there can show you all the information better than I can explain it.” Hayward shifted his gaze to Sam and me, leaning closer to whisper to us. “It sounds like a bunch of gibberish to me.” Sam gave him a tight smile, faking a soft laugh; I met Bruce’s eyes before he left the room and caught the slight nod, feeling a little better.

           “I need a TV. An old one. Like now.” I snapped my head up. I knew that voice; I stepped away from Hayward and Sam, ignoring the protests from the director, and turned a corner. A short brown-haired woman sat at a small L-shaped desk, pulling at wires, and mumbling to herself.

           “Darcy?” I gasped. Her head shot up, and she froze, slowly turning to look over her shoulder; her eyes grew wide, but a giant smile spread across her face.

           “Thor!” Darcy shrieked, shooting to her feet. I stumbled back when she rammed into me, wrapping her arms around my torso; I gently hugged her back, laughing softly. Darcy moved back, her eyes raking over me, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Well, look at you, Grizzly Adams,” she laughed. “What are you doing here?”

           “I could ask you the same thing,” I quipped, crossing my arms.

           “I was rounded up and shipped here for my extensive knowledge of astrophysics,” Darcy replied, holding her head high. “Now your turn.”

           “The Avengers came by to see what’s going on,” I answered, leaning my hip against the desk. “Dr. Strange was concerned because of the size and power of this anomaly.”

           “Well, I’m waiting for a TV, so I can see what the signal I found is,” Darcy sighed. “Care to join me?”

           “Let me go save Sam from Hayward first,” I whispered. I found my way back to the room where Sam and Hayward were still standing; I walked up and grabbed Sam’s bicep, pulling him away from the conversation. “Sorry, I need him,” I called over my shoulder.

           “Wait…” Hayward’s voice trailed off as we got farther away.

           “Thank god,” Sam laughed. “I was sick of listening to his voice. What did you find?”

           “A friend,” I replied, smiling. I pulled Sam back to where Darcy was now hooking up an old-looking TV. “Darcy.” She jumped, banging her knee on the underside of the table, grumbling to herself before turning around.

           “Oh, hi. I’m Dr. Darcy Lewis,” she greeted with a smile.

           “Sam Wilson,” Sam replied.

           “Falcon,” Darcy stated, casting her eyes to the ground. Sam was quiet for a second before he laughed loudly, surprising her.

           “That’s me,” Sam laughed. “What’s with the ancient TV?”

           “Oh! I found a signal coming from the barrier, but I haven’t tuned in yet. Wanna watch with me?” Darcy asked, dropping into her chair. Sam and I looked at each other and shrugged, pulling chairs over; Sam and I sat on either side of Darcy, close enough to see the screen.

           “Hm, I wonder what Paris is like this time of year,” Darcy mumbled to herself, chuckling.

           “Girl, you better calm down,” Sam laughed.

           “What about Paris?” I asked, tilting my head.

           “Don’t worry about it, big guy,” Sam insisted with a smirk.

           “Okay, let’s see what we got going on,” Darcy mumbled as she turned on the TV. The three of us focused on the picture that flickered across the screen, trying to make out the figures moving across the screen in black and white.

           “Who are those people?” the woman asked.

           “What are you wearing?” the man squeaked.

           “Why are they here?”

           “What are you wearing?” the man growled this time. I tilted my head, focusing on the characters' faces as the camera moved closer; I almost fell out of my chair when it hit me.

           “Wanda?” I gasped, my eyes never leaving the TV.

           “Oh shit,” Sam whispered.

           “Wait, like the Avenger, Wanda Maximoff?” Darcy cut in, glancing at Sam and me.

           “And Vision,” Sam mumbled, his eyes glued to the screen.

           “Alrighty then,” Darcy sighed. We continued to watch the dinner party, not saying anything else until the screen went black; Sam slumped back in his chair, his shocked expression never faltering. “Well-“ I cut Darcy off, slapping a hand over her mouth.

           “Another scene’s starting,” I whispered. The black and white scene faded in, focused on a door that looked similar to the one in Wanda’s set a few minutes ago. The door swung open as a man walked through, but his head was down, his face turned away from the camera; he closed the door and hung his hat on the hook before kicking his shoes off and resting his suit jacket on the banister of the steps. His head was still bowed as he ran a hand through his short hair until he dropped onto the couch, loosening his tie, and looking up at the ceiling.

           “Hey Stevie!” he yelled.

           “Bucky!” Sam and I shouted. I blinked at the screen as Bucky lounged on the couch until another figure jumped over the back. I almost choked on my spit when he dropped onto the couch next to Bucky.

           “Hold up!” Darcy shouted. “Is that…the Winter Soldier and Captain America!” Sam and I both just nodded, unable to find words, as we watched Steve and Bucky talk back and forth, slowly getting closer together. “They’re gonna kiss!” Darcy whispered excitedly. Right before their lips met, someone knocked on their door, sending Bucky tumbling to the ground.

           “What is going on?” Sam whispered; I thought I saw what looked like tears in his eyes.

           “I have no idea,” I murmured, leaning back in my chair. The screen went black before Bucky answered the door but seemed to pick up with them walking up the street after they went to dinner. I glanced over at Sam when Steve and Bucky seemed to drifter closer together for the last bit of their scene; Sam’s mouth hung open, his eyes wide, almost transfixed. Sam finally spoke up when the screen faded to black again.

           “I’m so lost,” he whispered, shaking his head slightly.

           “Another one?” Darcy sighed. I turned back to the TV as a figure rolled over the back of their couch only to keep rolling until they landed face down on the floor. “Who is this supposed to be?”

           “No idea,” I replied until I heard a burst of soft laughter that seemed to be off-screen. The man lifted his head off the floor before the camera panned out to reveal a woman standing in the doorway.

           “Clint and Nat,” Sam whispered. The longer I watched my friends, living and dead, the harder it was to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over; I almost broke when Clint spun around their living room with Natasha on his back, both laughing happily. The image faded out when Clint pushed through the kitchen door; the next scene opened with Natasha scolding Clint for being rude. Natasha dropped onto the couch away from Clint, but he pulled her towards him, pressing his body onto her; the scene ended with them kissing as Clint carried her upstairs.

           “I can’t keep watching this,” I rasped, dropping my head into my hands.

           “Jesus, there’s another,” Darcy whined, hitting my arm; I shook my head, not bothering to look up.

           “It’s good to be home.” My head shot up; I knew that voice better than anyone else, and tears welled in my eyes no matter how hard I fought it.

           “Loki,” I croaked. I watched Loki lift his hat off his head as the woman in front of him wrapped her arms around his waist, and he leaned down to kiss her; I shook my head when I saw the side of her face. “(Y/N).”

           “I guess we found out where they ended up,” Sam grunted. I barely paid attention to what Sam said. I couldn’t stop watching as my brother and, at one point, future sister-in-law moved around on screen, smiling, and laughing. I sat in shock, watching (Y/N) talking to a dark-haired woman, cringing when I heard Loki’s voice again. My chest ached when they were on screen together again, wrapped around each other, happily tasting their dinner; I sat frozen as their scene ended with them curled up on their couch together. The screen faded out, but credits started to roll, showing snippets of each of the scenes.

           “Thor,” Sam whispered, resting a hand on my shoulder. I turned my head to look at him, noticing the tears in his eyes as well; my trance was finally broken, but any composure I had was broken along with it. I choked around a sob as I slumped forward, cradling my head in my hands, tears dropping onto the floor between my feet.

           “What did I miss?” Darcy whispered, thinking I couldn’t hear her.

           “Loki…he’s…gone,” Sam sighed. I heard Darcy’s faint oh, but she didn’t say anything else. “Hey, big guy,” Sam mumbled, resting a hand on my shoulder again. “Let’s go find Bruce. We’ll come back tomorrow.” Sam didn’t wait for the reply that I wouldn’t have been able to give anyway.

           “See you tomorrow,” Darcy mumbled. I let Sam pull me from my chair and drag me away; I only realized that we found Bruce when he bumped against my arm on the walk to the SUV.

           “What the hell happened?” Bruce whispered. I lifted my head, turning in the direction Bruce’s voice came from; I tried to blink away the tears and answer, but I couldn’t form the words.

           “Later,” Sam snapped, sniffling softly. Sorrow hung around me like a storm cloud, snippets of Natasha, Vision, Steve, and my brother swirled in my mind, pouring salt on the already raw wounds on my heart.

***

I shot up in bed the next morning, panting as I frantically looked around my room; I started to relax when I recognized the familiar walls of my borrowed bedroom in the Avengers mansion. I roughly rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands, groaning at my already growing headache.

           “Thor, you awake?” Sam’s voice traveled through my door, forcing me out of bed. I opened the door, still rubbing one eye, greeting Sam with a nod. “Couldn’t get dressed,” Sam snorted. I glanced down, realizing I only had on a pair of boxer briefs and a t-shirt.

           “Sorry,” I grumbled.

           “Coffee’s ready, and Bruce wants to get moving soon,” Sam sighed, dropping his gaze to the floor.

           “F.R.I.D.A.Y, what time is it?” I called over my shoulder.

           “Good morning, Mr. Odinson. The time is 7:04 am,” the AI replied happily.

           “Thanks,” I slurred, leaning against the doorframe. “Let me get dressed, and we’ll go.”

           “Sounds good,” Sam replied, patting my shoulder before walking off. I kicked the door shut, wandering towards the dresser on the opposite wall; I pulled out jeans and a clean gray t-shirt. I stumbled into the kitchen 10 minutes later to find Bruce and Sam leaning against the counter, whispering.

           “Morning,” I grunted, dropping onto a stool at the island.

           “How you feeling, buddy?” Bruce asked.

           “Awful,” I whispered.

           “I’m sorry, but we need to get moving. Coffee is to-go,” Sam piped up, pushing a paper cup towards me. “I already filled Bruce in on…what happened.” I nodded, picking up the paper cup and drinking half of it in one breath.

           “Alright, let’s go, my friends,” I declared with mock enthusiasm.

***

I spent the entire ride contemplating what to do and was so lost in thought that I didn’t realize we were parked in front of the tent until Sam hit my shoulder.

           “You coming?” he called, shooting me a tight smile. Sam spent most of the day watching through the next ‘episode’ with Darcy while I sifted through screen grabs of the first one with the FBI agent Jimmy.

           “Okay, so we have most of the people labeled,” Jimmy noted, looking at the board in front of us. “All the Avengers are over here” -he pointed to the right side of the board- “and the townspeople on the other side.”

           “Did you watch any of the scenes from today?” I asked him.

           “After I tried to reach out on the radio, I watched the playback. Why?”

           “Did you notice anything weird?” I probed, tilting my head. “It seemed like it’s being edited somehow.”

           “Definitely, but we haven’t figured out who is doing it or why. Watch when I try to reach out to Wanda; it’s obviously edited.” Jimmy dropped into a chair at the table, taking a deep breath before looking back at the board. I turned around when I heard footsteps behind me; Bruce, Sam, and Darcy walked in, visibly shaken.

           “What’s wrong?” Jimmy asked.

           “Hayward sent in an agent, and he didn’t come back up,” Sam huffed, taking a seat across from Jimmy.

           “Great…” Jimmy started, but I stopped listening. I braced my hands on the table in front of me, going over the pros and cons of my decision before telling anyone else; my heart decided for me, throwing any caution out the window.

           “I’m going in,” I stated. The room fell quiet as everyone turned to look at me; I lifted my head, scanning the different states of surprise on their faces.

           “Are you insane!” Sam finally shouted.

           “Probably, but maybe being that I’m Asgardian, I won’t lose my memory.”

           “(Y/N) did!” Bruce yelled this time. “Why would you be different?”

           “Yes, but I’m entering after the fact. I think the four of them were already here when the anomaly happened. I’m hoping it won’t affect me since I wasn’t here when it started.” I looked around the room, slightly surprised that anyone believed my logic; I faintly hoped I wouldn’t be able to resist it but quickly pushed that thought down.

           “He has a point. It may work in our favor if he goes in,” Sam offered, smiling softly at me.

           “And if it doesn’t?” Bruce snapped.

           “Then move on to another plan,” I stated, meeting Bruce’s angry stare.

           “And leave you in there!” Bruce shouted.

           “I’ll be fine; everyone else is,” I replied, vaguely gesturing to the board behind me.

           “You’ve lost it,” Bruce scoffed, throwing his hands up. I walked over to Bruce, resting my hands on his shoulders, making him look at me.

           “Let me do this,” I whispered, trying to smile at him. Sam, Darcy, and Jimmy started talking amongst themselves behind us.

           “I know why you’re doing this,” Bruce growled, glaring up at me. “You’re hurting. So you’re praying you’ll either remember and see your brother, Vision, Steve, and Nat one more time or that you’ll forget and be free of the pain.” I tried not to flinch when Bruce called me out, but I couldn’t help it; I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a ragged breath before meeting his gaze again, smiling.

           “Let me do this,” I whispered again. Bruce stared at me for a few seconds before scoffing and shaking his head.

           “Fine.”

           “Thank you,” I mumbled, squeezing his shoulders. “Alright, let’s get to the edge of the barrier.”

***

Sam, Darcy, Jimmy, Bruce, and I stood about 20 feet away from the edge of the barrier, just staring.

           “You sure you want to do this?” Sam asked again.

           “Yes,” I stated simply. I took a deep breath and rubbed my hands together, shoving down the nervous energy swirling through me. “If this works and I remember, I’ll see if I can get through to anyone. If I don’t remember, move on, I’ll be fine.”

           “Good luck,” Darcy said with a smile. I took another deep breath and walked towards the barriers, stopping a few inches from it. I could hear the faint buzzing sound it made, and I could feel the static electricity it gave off, pulling at the power that ran through my veins. I took one more look over my shoulder, smiling at my friends behind me before reaching an arm out, pushing it through the barrier. I gasped, feeling the electricity that already pulsed under my skin come alive; the farther I pushed my arm in, the more powerful I felt until suddenly I was falling. I opened my eyes again, coming face to face with the front door to my house, my hand still on the doorknob.

           “What the hell,” I whispered but quickly shook off the odd feeling. I walked onto my porch, pulling my door shut, smiling as the morning sun warmed my skin. “Okay, Loki’s house is a street over,” I mumbled to myself as I wandered down to the sidewalk. Before I knew it, I approached Loki’s house; I walked onto the porch and knocked on the door, vibrating with excitement. I smiled brightly when the door started to swing open.

           “Brother?” Loki gasped.

           “Miss me?” I chuckled.

Chapter 11 | Series Masterlist

Taglist:

@marvelfansworld​ @imagine-yourself-happy​ @alluringshawn​ @lovelokiqueen​ @shadowolf993​ @somegeekychic​ @neenieweenie​ @wandas-love​ @jointhehunt67​ 

[lalainajanes]

This completes column #2 on my bingo card, the square was “Eager Backstage Groupie”

Another Shot of Courage

 Saturday, May 1st, 8:16 AM

Caroline wakes up in an unfamiliar bed, in the little black dress she'd worn to Kat's birthday party, with a headache and a foul-tasting mouth. She's sprawled in the middle of a very large mattress, so the first thing Caroline does is explore. She stretches her arms out tentatively, expecting to poke someone (hopefully an unobjectionable someone) awake.

She appears to be alone, and Caroline relaxes into the fluffy pillows. She wiggles experimentally, satisfied when her bra and underwear dig into uncomfortable areas and gives in to the temptation to burrow under the duvet.

She just needs a minute to regret her life choices before she confronts them. Caroline sighs, stretches, and her fuzzy head begins to clear, memories sharpening.

And yikes.

Can she stay in her self-made blanket fort forever? A lot of her conduct last night had been highly irrational, some of it downright hypocritical. She is a public relations professional, highly sought after. Her clients pay many pretty pennies for her services.

Had she seriously mauled Klaus Mikaelson in one of the trendiest clubs in LA?

Caroline tugs down the blanket, intent on confirming her suspicions, allowing her to look around and study the room with new eyes.

There's a brick fireplace at the end of the bed, a wide armchair in front of it – not particularly revealing. Her eyes flick to the left. There's nothing, but dark curtains pulled tight over a wall of windows.

When she looks to the right, there's a smoking gun. Well, kind of. It's a drafting table, an easel, and shelves featuring paintbrushes, haphazardly stacked sketchbooks, and a bunch of other things that Caroline doesn't currently have the brainpower to identify.

She considers slipping out of bed and checking to see if those curtains cover any kind of door. She thinks it's logical to assume so. She's only been to Klaus' home a few times, tries to insist they meet at her office. She's never ventured far beyond the kitchen and living rooms, but it's a Spanish-style bungalow on a sprawling lot. Why wouldn't he have a walk out into the yard from his bedroom?

She discards the idea with some regret. Running away without a word is a coward's move and would probably backfire. Klaus is still her client, whatever psychosis had gripped Caroline last night, and it's not like she could dump him via email at this point. He's got a huge movie coming in three weeks, and they're flying to London tomorrow to begin the premiere tour. She could probably pass it on to another publicist, but she'd still be on the hook, would have to coordinate her plans long-distance.

Selfishly, Caroline hopes that's not necessary. She'd hate for someone else to reap the benefits of her hard work.

She heaves herself into a sitting position, wincing when her head throbs. Her stomach seems solid, with no hint of queasiness, so that's a plus. Caroline tosses the covers aside, shifts until her legs slide over the side of the bed. She catches a glimpse of herself in a mirror through the open closet door and cringes.

She'd done an excellent smoky eye last night, and it's migrated all over her face. She doesn't even want to consider how long it's going to take to detangle her hair. She decides she can wait a bit to hunt down Klaus, stepping forward and twisting the knob on the closed door. "Jackpot," Caroline mutters, walking into Klaus' bathroom. There's a stack of towels on the counter, and she figures it won't hurt to take a shower.

She'd had her tongue in his mouth and had apparently kicked him out of his bed, so what's one more presumption?

Friday, April 30th, 10:47 PM

In the VIP lounge Kat had rented, elevated above the main dance floor, Caroline waves away a shot of tequila. She'd had one during the birthday toast, wine at dinner. Had just ordered an overpriced cocktail. She's pleasantly tipsy but needs to pace herself because she can't get too drunk tonight.

Besides, Caroline and tequila have a complicated relationship.

Kat boos her, a few of the other girls joining in. Caroline laughs, "I know, I'm boring. I have a million things to do tomorrow to make sure I'm ready to live out of a suitcase for weeks."

Katherine scoffs, "Just make Klaus buy you anything you forget. What good is a guy who's hot for you and makes big fat superhero movie paychecks if he won't buy you pretty things?"

They've discussed this a bajillion times. Caroline has actually run away from this exact conversation, shouting nonsense syllables, with her fingers jammed in her ear, as if she and Katherine still fight over Barbies and who gets to wear dress-up trunk's best princess dress.

Caroline still can't resist arguing – it's a character flaw. "He's my client. That's it."

"Oh, please. Men in this town bone their clients all the time."

"That doesn't make it okay!"

Usually, this is the part where Katherine tries to convince her that Klaus is dying to be boned – her words, not Caroline's – but she gets distracted, squinting across the bar. Kat's lips curl, expression growing sly, "It appears my argument is moot."

Um, what? Katherine's literally never backed down from an argument in the twenty-plus years they've been friends. Puzzled, Caroline turns, trying to see what caught Kat's attention.

The club features several VIP lounges, each located at the top of a short staircase and decorated with wide velvet sofas and crystal chandeliers. There's an attendant who keeps booze and food flowing. It's clever – the sofas are inviting and squishy, tend to force people close together. The chandeliers ensure that anyone who happens to take a picture can get a decent shot, and the free flow of liquor has lowered the inhibitions of at least half a dozen celebrities, resulting in photos that send the gossip blogs into a tizzy as soon as they hit the internet.

When Caroline spots Klaus across the way, a redheaded model sprawled in his lap, she's immediately fuming.

"Looks like he got tired of waiting," Kat drawls. "Wanna reconsider the tequila?"

"Katherine. I love you. But zip it."

Katherine makes a face but leaves Caroline alone, turning to another one of their friends and asking a question. Caroline takes a deep breath, counts to ten.

She'd busted her ass to make him appear family-friendly enough to land the movie with the very PR-conscious studio that had netted him the big fat checks Katherine had just been crowing over. He's jeopardizing that on the eve of the most significant press tour of his career.

She looks over again, leaning forward. The redhead's moved away, she's sitting at Klaus' side, and they now appear to be merely engaged in conversation. Caroline does her best to think like a photographer – is there an angle that could make the scene look tawdry?

Probably not. So really, Klaus isn't jeopardizing anything.

Caroline's anger doesn't cool at the revelation.

She's so screwed.

She's on her feet before she decides to be, stalking down the stairs. She hears Katherine yelling borderline lewd encouragement at her back, but Caroline knows better than to take her advice.

She's marching over to diffuse, not inflame.

Hopefully.

Saturday, May 1st, 9:01 AM

She finds Klaus in his living room, asleep, his legs hanging awkwardly over the arm of a too-short couch, his torso twisted so awkwardly that Caroline's back twinges sympathetically. With the confirmation that she had stolen his bed, more of Caroline's irritation fades. The shower had helped, as had the bottle of water she'd guzzled and the three Tylenol she'd popped.

She takes a seat on his coffee table, setting down her second bottle of water. Caroline reaches out, shaking his shoulder gently. "Klaus," she murmurs when he begins to stir. "Wake up."

She could probably leave him to sleep. Klaus' stylist will handle most of his packing; he's borrowed a dizzying volume of outfits and accessories for Klaus to wear on this trip. The announcement won't come for another two weeks, but Klaus is shooting a Dior cologne ad once his press obligations wrap. The brand had requested he start wearing the newest line. Caroline had attended the last fitting, and she'd had a hard time keeping her blatant ogling under wraps.

Klaus looks good in ratty jeans, in a suit tailored to his measurements? Just about anyone attracted to men would have struggled not to appreciate the sight.

That's how Caroline had justified letting her emails pile up that afternoon.

She'd been a little worried about her control slipping on this trip, once they were alone in the hotel, and Klaus dropped the shiny, press-perfect façade he's learned to maintain. Caroline had designed that mask to appeal to the broadest possible audience. Doing interview prep has unfortunately only emphasized how much more she likes Klaus without it.

Klaus stretches, eyes fluttering open. "Good morning," he murmurs, voice husky with sleep. "I hope you slept better than I did."

Caroline winces, "Don’t you have a guest room or two you could have shoved me in?”

He smiles lazily, “You were quite insistent on touring my bedroom.”

Her eyes slam shut, face heating, “And that is why I don’t drink tequila unsupervised,” she grumbles.

He laughs, sitting up, his legs bracketing hers. He reaches for her water bottle and helps himself to a sip. Caroline leans back, fishing the Tylenol out of the pocket of the hoodie she’d stolen from his closet. She’d needed something bulkier to hide the fact she hadn’t been able to convince herself to strap her bra back on. “Do you want these?” she asks, rattling the bottle.

Klaus shakes his head, “I’m not hungover. I didn’t drink at all, and you stole that shot of tequila that was meant for me, remember?”

Ohhh no. She’d forgotten about that. She’d stolen his and the model’s.

Which, in hindsight, goes a long way to explaining what had happened after. Caroline’s problem with tequila is that once she starts, she has a hard time stopping. It heightens her usually non-existent impulsive streak, leads to sub-par decisions.

Occasionally, tequila does make her clothes fall off.

Caroline buries her hands in her face, wishing she hadn’t tied her hair back. She’s mortified, probably growing splotchy. “I am so sorry,” she mutters.

Klaus sighs, tries to tug her hands away. Caroline resists, tensing her muscles, wishes she’d gone with her first instinct and fled out the backdoor. He rests his hands on her knees, squeezing, voice dipping into coaxing tones. “No apology necessary. I’m not the least bit upset.”

Unfortunately, Caroline’s totally up to the task of being upset enough for the both of them.

Friday, April 30th, 10:53 PM

Once the attendant in Klaus VIP area confirms that he does know Caroline and lets her up the stairs, Klaus has managed to increase the distance between his body and the model’s. He seems pleased to see her, grabbing her hand and tugging her to sit next to him on the couch.

Close enough that they’re connected thigh to shoulder.

The model, whose name Caroline doesn’t particularly care about, is less welcoming. She glares daggers at Caroline’s hand, still enclosed in Klaus’. He makes polite introductions. “Genevieve, this is my publicist and very good friend, Caroline Forbes. Caroline, Genevieve. She’s a friend of Kol’s.”

Klaus’ younger brother is also an actor, still firmly in the throes of his wild child phase. Caroline finds him entertaining, despite her best intentions, but he’s known to delight in making her job more complicated. She glances around suspiciously, “Is Kol here?”

Klaus gestures vaguely to the dance floor. “Somewhere. He dragged me out to celebrate a pilot he booked, then disappeared.”

Hmm, that could lead to disaster. Caroline wonders if she should shoot his publicist a text as a professional courtesy.

Caroline smiles at Genevieve sharply, “So sweet of you to keep Klaus company.” It’s mean, but Caroline wonders if Genevieve has somehow heard about Klaus’ Dior deal through the grapevine. Maybe she’s aiming for a co-starring role – Caroline’s read the treatment for the commercial; it’s supposed to be streamy.

Oh, good lord, High School Caroline has somehow time traveled and taken over her body.

Genevieve pastes on an equally fake smile (at least Caroline’s not the only one regressing). Before she can snipe back, a silver tray is set in front of them, two shots resting on it. The attendant catches Caroline’s eye, “Can I get you anything, Miss?”

Klaus interrupts, squeezes her hand in an absent apology, “Sorry, there must be some mistake. I ordered a water.”

He’s contractually obligated to maintain a ridiculously chiseled body. Caroline’s got a reminder in her phone to order him a pile of celebratory spaghetti after his press obligations are officially over and he can relax for a few months.

The attendant’s eyes flit to Genevieve in confusion, “I…”

“I cancelled that,” she chirps, sliding her hand up Klaus’ arm. Genevieve leans in, tone lowering to what Caroline thinks is supposed to be a seductive level. “Figured we would toast.”

Caroline catches it because she’s practically plastered to Klaus’ other side. “Who toasts with tequila?” she asks. “Other than creeps at bars, I mean.”

Had Caroline not been well acquainted with Katherine Pierce, she might have been intimidated by Genevieve's attempt at a lethal glare.

Caroline stares back, reaching blindly for the first shot. She tosses it back, then the second, fighting the shudder that wants to wrack her frame through sheer willpower alone.

“Bitch,” Genevieve mutters, standing and flouncing away.

It’s petty, but Caroline savors her win.

Klaus is staring at her oddly, a touch concerned. “Maybe we should get you some water, love.”

Saturday, May 1st, 9:04 AM

“There were more shots when I got back to Kat’s party,” Caroline moans. “I’m going to kill her. She knows my weaknesses.”

“While I am reluctant to defend your irritating friend, she did seem rather intent on her fun. It was her birthday, wasn’t it?”

Caroline nods, “Yeah. And Kat’s always been firmly convinced that she should get to do whatever her little black heart desires on her birthday.”

“She did insist I ensure you get home safely. I’m afraid you were rather reluctant to supply your address.”

She sighs, finally dropping her hands. “Honestly, I just moved into a condo. I might not have remembered it.” That’s the less embarrassing option. It’s probably more likely that tequila drunk Caroline had crafted a plan to seduce Klaus, and step one entailed getting invited to his house. “I know you said not to apologize, but I obviously put you out. I’m supposed to babysit you, not the other way around.”

Klaus laughs, his knee nudging hers. “I haven’t needed that for ages, as you well know.”

He has a point – Caroline likely wouldn’t have agreed to take him on if he was still indulging in public drunkenness and paparazzi punching. When she’d first met with Klaus, it had been out of curiosity. She’d made a comfortable living from her client roster, did not need to take on the project of a difficult actor.

Klaus’ bad behavior had been a few years in the past, and he’d just come off a run of festival darlings and had produced a surprise hit sci-fi drama. He’d been frustrated by the doors that remained firmly shut to him, had laid his ambitions on the table.

Caroline had been intrigued. While she’s excellent at her job, but it’s always easier to work her magic with clients who are willing to dive into the work. Klaus’ talent was undeniable; she’d thought he could be a household name with the right opportunity. She’d agreed to take him on, and three years later, it’s paid off.

Caroline tugs the sleeves of his sweatshirt down over her hands, eyes on the frayed trim. “I was mad when I saw you last night, and that wasn’t fair. You’d set you were resting up for the press tour, but it’s not my business if you changed your mind.”

“Did you think I was resuming some bad habits?” Klaus asks. “I know that particular venue has a… reputation. Probably why Kol picked it.”

Caroline sneaks a glance at him, trying to gauge how he feels, but he’s not giving much away. “No, not really. I trust you. I wasn’t thinking super logically.”

She has to admit, at least to herself, that she’d been jealous. Caroline’s going to have to think about how deep that goes, if the feelings that had slapped her in the face last night will prevent their working relationship from being effective. What if Klaus meets someone? Will she be able to plant sneaky tidbits about how happy they are, scour the gossip blogs for rumors that could become issues?

“You? Not thinking logically? However could that be?”

She glares at him, though she knows his teasing is good-natured. “Some of it was the booze. I totally wouldn’t have hauled you onto the dance floor without it. And I wouldn’t have… well, you were there.”

She’s not up to list her transgressions. If Klaus hadn’t been drinking, then his memory of her wandering hands, her flirtatious comments, and heated invitations should be crystal clear. Caroline had been drunk, and she’s having a hard time not dwelling on the kiss – which, to be fair, Klaus had enthusiastically participated in – that she’d initiated.

“I was there. I have no objections to anything that occurred last night, save perhaps wishing you’d been sober.” Her head snaps up, eyes widening in shock, and Klaus laughs incredulously. “Surely you must know of my interest in you, Caroline.”

She’s suspected, but she’s also well aware that Klaus has no shortage of offers. Last night is proof of that. Caroline has always assumed that take one of them, at some point, and his flirtatiousness with her would fade away. She’d dated an actor or two when she’d moved to LA after wrapping up college. Caroline had been working insane hours then, trying to claw her way past the other assistants at the agency where she’d worked. Her exes from that time period had been quick to move on once they realized she wasn’t willing to center her universe around them.

“Interest can be fleeting.”

“It’s been three years.”

“You never made a real move.”

Again, Klaus counters quickly. “You’d not have accepted, and then you’d likely have pawned me off on someone else.”

Yeah, he’s got a point there. “I’m your publicist.”

“I have no objection to mixing business with pleasure. If you do, I suppose I’m willing to suffer a less competent publicist.”

“I’m beginning to suspect you’ve been plotting.”

Klaus shrugs, entirely unrepentant. “Perhaps a bit. I’ve always been entirely honest with you, I merely prevented a situation that would lessen the time we spent together until such a time as you were ready to consider me in a romantic light.”

“That’s a lot of words to confess you’ve been trying to flirt me into submission while flashing your hot body at every opportunity,” Caroline grumbles.

Klaus’ smile widens, dimples now visible. “It seems to have worked. Assuming that you meant the things you said to me last night?”

“I…” she hadn’t been expecting him to ask her that directly. She should have been – Klaus is skilled at choosing the best way to catch someone off guard. Caroline glances away from him, eyes catching on the clock across the room. Crap. She has so much to do. “I have to go,” Caroline tells him, standing up.

His eyes narrow,  and his head tips to the side, like he’s searching for a sign of weakness. Both telltale indicators that Klaus is gearing up to argue. Caroline holds up a hand, “I know, okay? This looks like I’m running away, and technically I am, but this is not the time to begin that mixing you mentioned. We’ve both worked too hard to risk screwing up the next few weeks. Did you read your contract? The fines for non-compliance are no joke.”

“Now is not the time,” Klaus says slowly. “Meaning?”

“We table it now. I’m open to a discussion later.” Three weeks is plenty of time for her to sort out where she stands, right? Caroline never sleeps on flights anyway.

He runs a hand through his hair. “I want a timeline. I understand that you feel obligated to ensure this press tour goes smoothly, but you can only use it as an excuse until it’s over, love. I’m prepared to be persuasive.”

“What, do you want me to schedule something on your calendar? Maybe set an agenda?”

“No need to be so formal. Just agree to have dinner with me once we return. Here, if you’d like, so we don’t risk inflaming the tabloids before you’re ready.”

“You seem awfully sure that this is going to go a certain way. So eager to fire me?”

Klaus gets to his feet, and Caroline sucks in a nervous breath. Sitting across from each other, he’d been a reasonable distance away. Now, with both of them standing in the narrow gap between his couch and coffee table, if one of them breathes too deeply or shifts deliberately, they’ll be plastered together.

She’s tempted despite knowing she’s right about the timing.

Klaus rests his hand on her waist and turns them so Caroline could step back if she wanted to.

She stays where she is.

A tiny smile curls Klaus’ lips and his hand moves, pressing her closer. “As much as I enjoyed your more… explicit ramblings last night, I must confess my favorite revelation was when you confessed to just how long you’ve had them.”

Caroline, not for the first time, curses tequila’s wretched existence.

Wednesday, May 5th 2:20 PM

The meet and greets are going to kill her.

Caroline had thought they were a good idea when she’d poured through the itinerary the studio had sent over. Inviting popular bloggers, auctioning off tickets for charity, allowing fans to enter random draws – it’s great PR and provides the opportunity for viral moments, while also controlling the environment.

Caroline’s leaning against one of the walls, unnoticed, eyes on her client.

A lot of eyes are on her client, some of which irritate Caroline more than others. The two teenage girls, trailed by an exasperated dad, who’d both burst into tears when Klaus had smiled at them? Totally adorable. The nerdy college student who’d grilled Klaus about his character’s comic backstory? Kind of a pain, but Klaus had done his homework, and Caroline had been impressed.

And annoyed. Excessive preparation is very attractive and unhelpful at this juncture of the press tour. Caroline’s already begun to reconsider what they’d agreed to, wonders if knocking on his hotel room door on the last night would be such a bad thing.

That line of thinking might be overly influenced by the scene in front of her.

Klaus is speaking with a woman in an afternoon inappropriate silver dress. Caroline’s sorely tempted to have her escorted out by security. She’d slipped a key card into the back pocket of Klaus’ jeans within 90 seconds of meeting him.

He’s handed it back, said something that made her laugh. They’re still talking.

Klaus glances up, eyes landing on her immediately. Caroline hastily tries to soften her irritated expression lest he guesses its reason. Klaus smiles, subtly tips his water bottle in her direction. Silver Dress invades his personal space a little more.

Ugh. It’s gonna be a long three weeks.

[knockknockchicagopd]

❛ I'M NOT BULLETPROOF ❜

❚❙ REQUEST BY ANON: Hello, here’s the request all sort out ... could I get a Antonio imagine where the reader is related to someone on the unit? With the prompts (fluff 3/ 7) and also could you make it smut? Thank you once more!

❚❙ PROMPTS: “I just wanted to hear your voice”. / “We can pretend that nothing happened last night, but it did”.

❚❙ ANTONIO DAWSON MASTERLIST.

❚❙ WORDS: about 2k.

❚❙ WARNINGS: nsfw, unprotected vaginal sex, mention of bodily fluids.

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that it makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted.

❚❙ GIF credits: to my amazing @sonsofeorl.

❚❙ Tag list: @melblacc @rebelwrites @skyofficialxx @sesamepancakes @scarletsoldierrr @mondefantastique @that-chick212 @enbyamaro @inlovewith3 @ocetevasgirl @anotherfan07 @destynelseclipsa @jadakiss13. If you want to be added to my tag list, send me a message.

“Hey…”

“Antonio?”

Sitting up on your bed tossing away the sheets, you turn on the small lamp somewhat worried. It's too late and his gloomy tone of voice worries you. For Jay, you know it hasn't been a good week in the way of the delicate case they have had in his hands. A guy who used to rape and murder officers, just because he thought they didn't deserve to live. In the academy, the instructors teach you to catch the bad people but not to deal mentally with what they do. Every cop has their own way to confront him. Your brother, for example, likes to play videogames to escape from the world.

“You okay?” Whispering, you curl up your legs to your chest, resting your cheek on them.

“Yeah, just wanted to hear your voice”.

You can't help but draw a shy smile on your lips, feeling your face slightly burning. You can't lie and say that he hasn't attracted you since Jay introduced you. He has always been kind and tender, and more funny than your middle-brother had told you.

Last night you went to dinner after work and he drove you to your house. And no, you weren't expecting him to kiss you, just as he wasn't expecting you to correspond it with something else than a physical attraction. You can assure that you're in love with him, but you know you are falling for him a little more every time Antonio looks at you and smiles for no reason.

“Whe—Where are you?”

“Close to the beach. Walking. Clearing my head”.

Puckering your lips, placing your eyes over the large window in front of your bed, you try to not succumb to a new necessity you didn't know you had.

“Wanna come over…?”

“I'd like it”. The murmur appears after some seconds of silence, racing your heart for an instant.

“'Key, see you now”. Biting your bottom lip to contain a smile, you hang up the call.

You decide to get up from bed, being aware that if you stay there you'll end up falling asleep again. The beach isn't too far from your house, knowing the way to perfection. It's your favorite place to have something for dinner after a long shift in the cafeteria you work in. Taking the advantage to bring some order in your flat, you lose track of time till the knocks on the main door claims your attention.

Accommodating your hair, you lead your bare feet to the entrance not being able to hide the soft smile that curves up the corners of your lips, when you receive him. Antonio looks tired to death, not wasting time to hug you under the door frame. Surrounding his neck with both arms you take a step to hold him closer, being overwhelmed by all the sensations he is transmitting to you in such a simple gesture.

The hug lasts longer than you could think, not being bothered by that, enjoying every second of his warmth wrapping you. Hearing him sigh with his forehead resting over your shoulder, you push some distance between both to let him come inside and close the door after his steps.

“Wanna drink something? I have beer, coke, whisky… Water?”

“No, I'm good”. He just replies, taking off his jacket to hang it on a chair. “Listen… we can pretend that nothing happened last night. But it did. I don't wanna put pressure on you and I know who your brothers are, but… I really like you. I've been thinking about you, about us, the whole day. In my job you know when you start to work, but you don't know if you'll come home and I don't want to lose the opportunity of being with you, of leaving this world knowing… that I've made you happy”.

These words, the desperation in his voice as he is finishing them, leaves you speechless. Your brain is trying to process what Antonio has just said, keeping his trembling hands inside the pocket of his jeans. The first thing you can think about is that you don't care about Jay, nor Will. They only want for you a man who treats you like you deserve. The best of the best. And the man in front of you is it.

“I can leave, if you wan'me to”.

“Wh— no, no, no”. You fastly reply, taking the steps enough to shorten the distance between the two of you, aware that you've spent too many seconds without saying anything, making him doubt that you don't feel exactly like he does. “I… Antonio, I…”

As soon as you understand that you're not able to form a sentence with sense, you simply place your hands on both sides of his neck while standing on your tiptoes, to crash your lips on his. It doesn't take him by surprise, being what he was waiting for more than for a talk. Bending down slightly, he lifts you up to urge you to surround his waist with your legs. The necessity of feeling each other closer and closer is suffocating you, leaving you breathless because of the passion concentrated in the kiss.

Antonio brings you to your room fastly than you can assimilate, falling on the bed when his knees collide with the mattress. The kiss breaks because of the laughs with a sensation of joyful filling up your chests. Helping him with his t-shirt to throw it somewhere on the floor, you roll up over his body before attacking his lips again. Biting, sucking and tasting them. Deepening with his tongue invading your mouth to play with yours. His hands paw your body almost desperate to memorize every inch of your anatomy, landing them on your ass when he feels the friction against the rock under his jeans, as soon as you swing your hips.

Antonio tosses off his shoes, heel against heel, sliding his fingers over your body to grab the gems of your t-shirt and take it off to discover your soft and sweet skin. Normally, both you and him, would enjoy some foreplay; but not this time. Not after long months of containing the desire to be together in every way. He needs to be inside you. You need him to be inside of you. And while his lips devour your breasts helping himself with a hand, stealing your honeyed moans, the other undoes his belt and the zip of his jeans. Three simply pulls down and his hardness breaks free to his abdomen.

You can't help but lick your lips strongly, urging you to lie on your back to watch him roll down the black thong left on you by your thighs. The fire burning within his eyes gives you chills, not being able to break eye-contact. Settling himself between your legs, spreading them for his delight, his right hands goes straight to his dick; jerking himself off to prepare for you.

“Look at me…” He almost begs with a broken thread of voice, as his glans rubs your center slowly, playing with your mind. “We're on time to stop”.

“I don't want you to”. Your lips brushes his, wrapping his neck with both arms.

You couldn't regret it. You couldn't regret letting him walk into your life. For letting him love you with so much kind and tenderness. Antonio is everything you could have dreamt with all your life, and you're not going to let him go. He just nods in silence with his eyes fixed on yours, digging himself inch by inch inside you. The warmth and the wetness within your cunt make him grunt and shake slightly, feeling by his part how his length forces your wall a little creating a delicious sensation.

“Fuck…” You sigh nailing your fingertips on the back of his neck when he reaches your limits.

Buried deep inside you, one of your legs surrounds his waist trying to push him closer.

“You feel so good, amor”. He babbles pecking your lips with sloppy kisses, placing his right hand on your thigh, as the other wraps your middle back. “You wan'me to move?”

“Please, Antonio”.

He feels proud of hearing you imploring, moving his hips back enough to go forth again, starting a slow dance that curls your tiptoes and causes your eyelids to close. It feels like your bodies are made exactly for the other, fitting to perfection. Soon, your whimpers fill up your room, creating a pleased and delighted echo that it's like a celestial song for the man satisfying you as his only worry tonight. He has the imperious necessity of demonstrating you every single thing he has carried inside his heart since Jay introduced you.

Thrust after thrust, moan after moan, the atmosphere around you is full of heat and devotion for each other. Antonio nails his teeth in your neck without warning you, feeling the tip of his tongue pressing down your skin with soft caresses, being aware that tomorrow you will have a new tattoo. From your lips escape some giggles mixed with surprised gasps, being the match that lights the wildfire inside you.

With a quick move, not knowing where the strength has come from, you sit over him making him laugh. Putting your hands on his bare chest, Antonio travels his to your hips while resting his head on the pillow. If he wasn't in love before, now he really is, watching you taking control. He hasn't ever seen a most beautiful view; you, rocking your body over his, dragging your nails on his skin to bristle it wherever they venture, your breasts almost bouncing with every move (...). If his body were a temple, you would be his goddess without a single damn doubt.

And you can't help but speed up the pace, synchronizing your pleased vocals in a perfect melody all around; increasing them as the knot in your lower belly becomes more suffocating, running your lungs out of air. One of Antonio's hands is placed in your middle back, pushing you down to catch your lips with his. He has declared himself an addict since the very first moment he touched them.

The pearls of sweat decorate your foreheads, as the moans are constant and you can't delay it anymore. The orgasm explodes inside you like fireworks screaming out his name, not caring about the fact that your neighbors can hear you, feeling his hot seed filling you up with a last push to your g-spot. An indescribable sensation that has you two breathless.

You can't help but utter a grunt of disappointment when he pulls himself out of you, falling by a side of your bed trying to catch back your air. Looking at Antonio, the two of you giggle inevitably being conscious of what just happened. But it feels good. It feels so good. Stretching his arms towards you to embrace you against his body, he leans a little to press his lips on yours with so much tenderness, leaving a sigh on them. Resting your heads on the pillow, you place a hand on his cheek to caress it gently with your thumb, watching him close his eyes to only focus on your touch.

“The first time I saw you… I knew your smile would give me some trouble”. You mumble, feeling his grip become a little tightly.

“Did it, uh?”

“Not the kind I thought”.

Antonio chuckles licking his bottom lip, shrugging funnily.

“I'm not gonna say I'm sorry, baby”.

[serendipitywrites]

Deceptions and Daisies (4)(m)

words 4.5k this chapter is pure smut and angst 🤡 (p.s. sorry this took so long, life has been crazy lately and I had some writers block I had to work through. Anyways, hope you enjoy!)

chapters (one, two, three )

After that last ‘fight’ you and Wooyoung had, you’ve been spending a lot of time with San. 

he’s been stopping by after classes just to say hi, or even bringing your favorite snacks, since he, unfortunately, knows that you tend to forget to eat when you’re stressed. Sometimes he doesn’t really need a reason, he just likes to just relax with you, talking about everything and yet nothing.

He’s come to learn a lot about you in the past few weeks and you’re always amazed at how well he can read you and your emotions. You’ve been feeling so bare and open around him, and surprisingly it’s been a welcoming feeling, it’s been nice to just be… well, yourself again. It might be too soon, but he feels like one of your closest friends already. Honestly, San has even been around more than Wooyoung lately.

Your boyfriend would often visit his ‘ex’ and ‘just a dance friend’ then rather see you, it felt like.

although, after you had confronted Wooyoung, you feel like he has been putting in at least a little more effort for you both. It may seem pathetic to some, but you weren’t ready to give up, not after eight months of being happy and loving him. You admit you were feeling close to giving up, but after talking things over for hours and hours, you decided to give him another chance. Obviously, not everything was perfect and you weren’t expecting that, but the ups and downs are always what made you both stronger together, at least you feel that way.

‘Woo.. you’re so different lately. Are you really here with me? even when we’re together lately, I just feel so… alone’ insecurity laces your voice.

He sits across from you on the couch, letting your words sink in.

He looks at you and instead of denying it this time, he just puts his head in his hands and exhales.

He looks up after a few seconds, looking uneased. 

‘I don’t feel like myself lately.. and I guess I was just hoping you didn’t notice’ he confesses.

‘Really? because It’s all I notice. I thought we didn’t keep things from each other, Woo’ you say surprised, mumbling the last words softly. 

And for the first time in a while, he isn’t looking defensive over your honesty.

‘y/n, I haven’t been.. completely honest with you.’ he sounds anxious and you stare at him nervously, waiting.

‘I’ve been seeing Hana after work sometimes.. when I don’t come here’ he sounds ashamed, and in your current state of mind, he should be ashamed. You didn’t fall in love with this Wooyoung, the one who lies.

‘Why? Why are you seeing her, Woo? No more lies or we’re done, I swear. I can’t keep doing this’ you try your best to sound confident and not let your hurt show.

He looks at you with guilt and swallows hard ‘I swear we aren’t doing anything, not like that. We’ve just been talking and I’m helping her to dance’ he says like he hopes to convince you.

‘Then why? And why do you look so guilty?’ you implore.

‘...She said she still loves me’ he confesses.

Your heart sinks. You weren’t an idiot, you could tell there was something deeper left between them, but it still really fucking hurts.

‘And do you love her?’ you ask weakly. 

‘I love you’ he replies quickly and with certainty. 

‘That’s not what I asked, woo’ you feel your eyes start to water and you try desperately to keep him from noticing.

He stares at you so softly yet cautiously ‘y/n, listen to me. What I had with her.. It wasn’t ever really as genuine as I thought at the time. If I’m honest, I think we only got together because she was lonely. Besides that, she is my past and you are my now. I want this, I want you, and I want us.. For a long time, if you’ll still have me’ he meets your eyes.

Your chest is aching. 

even if his words are reassuring, you know you can’t just keep forgiving him so easily.

‘I want us too, but I can’t keep going on like this. I can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt anymore when you are with her more than me. I’m not dumb, Woo. I knew you were with her and I just... I can’t. This isn’t me, i’m not some cliche jealous girlfriend’ you trail off in a frustrated tone, feeling some tears drop from your eyes and meeting your cheeks. This isn’t how the talk was supposed to go, but is anything ever easy lately?

He pulls you into his arms and rests his head in the crook of your neck. ‘Just one more chance, I’ll do better. I’ll be the boyfriend you deserve. I’ll be good for you.’ you feel yourself tremble in his hold. his voice heavy with emotion, he breathes hotly onto your neck and presses a wet and gentle kiss against you ‘I love you, y/n’ you sigh and try to hide a slight sniffle ‘I love you too.. Please don’t make me regret this’ 

San tosses a french fry in your direction, it pulling you from your thoughts.

He sits at the edge of your bed with a small fast food bag, staring at you expectedly.

You can tell he just got out of class by the way his hair is slicked back and his cheeks are still a bit flushed. He's dressed in a loose tank top, which must be some of his workout clothes. He must have come by straight after teaching and that thought makes you all tender for some reason. It’s just that you know that San likes to go straight home after work or school, but instead, he went and got you some food and chose to spend time with you. It may seem little, but it means a lot to you. It’s your day off from work and even if you told him to just head home and relax, having him here feels really nice. You’ve spent the day in your pajama shorts and a baggy shirt and if it was any other friend then you’d feel nervous and under-dressed, but you know that San doesn’t care.

‘If you don’t eat your fries, then I will’ he shoves some fries in his mouth messily, being an absolute goof.

You toss the fry back at him and it hits his chest, he looks at you offended. ‘Shush. Now where’s our ketchup?’ you tease him and he smiles, his dimple showing.

He tosses you the bag softly. ‘Yes, princess, and I got your extra ketchup too. You know, I get some weird looks for taking over 25 ketchup packets, so you owe me.’ 

You scoot towards him and hug his back ‘you’re the best, Sannie, you know that?’ you say in a sing-songy voice. You suddenly feel your breasts rub against his back through your thin shirt and you stiffen, feeling embarrassed. You’re just hoping that he didn’t notice. (He’s just thankful you can’t see the blush on his face) He nudges you off of him and you fall back gently on your pillow ‘I mean something I actually want’ 

you poke his back with your socked foot in offense ‘Hey! I give good hugs. you’re sweaty anyways, so fine, whatever’ he laughs at your sassy behavior. ‘Come sit with me?’ you pat the pillow next to you, he obliges. 

he rests his head against your headboard and shuffles a bit to get comfortable.

'so..' he tilts his head at you 'is Wooyoung coming over later?' 

you nod a bit shyly 'yeah, he has tomorrow off so he's going to spend the night.' you smile, getting excited to spend some time with your boyfriend. 

He gives you a small smile of acceptance ‘so things are back to normal?’

You shrug ‘I mean.. no? But he’s trying, we’re trying. He hasn’t been seeing… her as much’ you mumble carefully, not wanting to say her name. He understands, he doesn’t like her either. 

‘She hasn’t been around the studio either. Maybe Woo finally stopped being an idiot.’

You chuckle ‘that idiot is my boyfriend, but yes, he’s an idiot, my idiot’

You both finish snacking and put on some anime on your laptop, watching it together on your bed. You’re both resting against your headboard when Sans phone goes off. He says to ignore it but then his phone keeps buzzing over and over, he sighs, looking irritated, he runs his hand through his blonde hair ‘I’ll be a minute’ he says sounding agitated and heads out of the room. You figure it must be important, so you pause the anime and wait for him. 

After a few minutes, you get bored and grab your phone. You notice a few messages from Wooyoung.

Woo ♥ Can’t wait to see you, sweetheart

Woo ♥ Just a couple more hours ♥

Woo ♥ Want me to bring any food or snacks?

You see that his last message was about ten minutes ago and you decide to reply

sent Just bring yourself ♥ I just got some food, but thank you~! San brought me a burger and fries 🥳!

You get a response pretty quickly after sending that, surprisingly.

Woo ♥ Why is San there? Tonight is supposed to be our night.

Is he actually jealous right now? You aren’t sure what is going through his head so you send him another message

Sent Because he’s my friend? and he wanted to see me. We’re hanging out before you come over then he’s heading home, not that it even matters.

You send back, feeling slightly irritated. 

Woo ♥

I just wanted you all to myself tonight, sweetheart. I can’t wait. Besides San has a date tonight, I'm sure he’ll be leaving soon. 

You read his message over again, feeling taken aback a bit.

Before you have time to reply to Wooyoung, San makes it back in the room. He puts his phone on your dresser and relaxes against your pillow, he exhales tiredly.

Does he really have a date tonight? And why wouldn’t he tell you? 

���Everything okay?’ you ask him softly.

‘Yeah.. Yeosang just keeps trying to set me up on these blind dates and he doesn’t take no for an answer.’ he sighs. 

‘I take it you got roped into one?’ you chuckle, feeling a weird sense of relief that he chose to share this with you. 

‘This would be the third actually, He keeps picking his sisters friends and it’s already so awkward when we see him and his sister at parties, I guess she doesn’t take me not wanting to date her friends so easily.’ he looks tired. 

You pat his head gently ‘i’m sure when the right person comes along, you’ll know’

He’s laying on your pillow while you have your back rested against the wall, your laptop sits in between you two. 

He meets your eyes ‘I think so too’ he smiles, so damn sweetly. God, that dimple makes you so soft and you swear that he knows. 

You both settle and watch some more anime, after a few episodes, he decides to head home, looking tired from his long day. 

‘Be safe?’ you’re at your door telling him goodbye.

‘Always, princess’ he bows all cheesily. 

You punch at his arm for teasing you and he catches your hand. ‘Too slow’ he laughs.

‘Once I get better reflexes, you’re done for’ you respond with far too much sass. 

He’s still holding onto your hand when he pulls you in for a hug. The position you’re hugging him in has your arms wrapped around his neck rather than his waist. His arms wrap loosely around your waist.

Somehow, this hug feels… different

Your heart starts to beat faster. Of course, you don’t let yourself think too much into it, you can’t. Besides, this is San, one of Wooyoungs best friends. 

He pulls you closer and your face rests against his shoulder.

‘I’m here if you need me. I’ll stop by again soon’ 

You both pull away from the hug tenderly.

‘Same, but I think you need might need me more, you know, to rescue you from your dates’ you offer and he gives a small laugh. 

‘I’ll remember that’ he waves with a grin and heads out, the door clicking behind him. 

You’re really glad he came over today.

After waving him off you head to the bathroom to take a shower before Wooyoung heads over, which should be in about an hour.  The shower is calming yet exciting. Just knowing that you’re about to see your boyfriend has you so energetic. 

After getting out, you put on some vanilla lotion (knowing that it was Wooyoungs favorite) and blow-dry your hair, you dab on some light lip gloss to finish it off.  You decided to put on a sheer baggy sweater with a tank top underneath, knowing that you look cute. You kept your sleep shorts on, though. they are your favorite after all. 

You pick up your apartment a little before he heads over, and of course feed your fish baby, Clem.  Sometime after you finish cleaning you hear a knock on your front door and your heart jumps. Excited but anxious to see your boyfriend.

You pull open the door to see a tired and sweaty looking Wooyoung in front of you, in his hands he holds a small bag and a single red rose.  You already feel yourself grinning at his antics.

‘Really? Are you trying to impress me, Mr. Jung?’

He smirks ‘depends, is it working?’

You pull him into your apartment and plant an aggressive kiss on his lips. 

After pulling away, his lips try to chase yours again immediately.

‘So impatient already’ you tease.

‘It’s been 3 days, baby. I’m past impatient at this point.’ he whines and puts his bag down.

He hands you the rose and you blush a little bit.  ‘Thanks..’ you mutter feeling slightly shy and he just softly kisses your forehead.

He heads towards the couch and pulls you with him. You end up sitting in between his legs as he lays on the couch. His black fluffy hair is parted so you can see his eyes.

‘You’re so pretty, sweetheart.’ he says with affection and you turn your head, feeling shy under his gaze. He notices and you being shy and pulls you down on his lap for a kiss.

You’re truly in awe of this man and god.. you’ve missed this so much. Just the both of you, no drama, no lies, no Hana, just the both of you being with one another.

With you on his lap and kissing him he eventually starts to slowly grind into you, his bulge already thick and hot. You realize soon after that he isn’t wearing anything under his loose joggers.

‘Really, Woo? Nothing under here?’ you ask in surprise and reach your hands down to where the outline of his briefs would be and he just smirks at you and grips your hips.

‘I missed you, sweetheart..’ and you let yourself fall into him, getting lost in lust and feeling some wetness drip out of you.

He puts his hands under your shorts and massages the swell of your ass with his fingers. You shiver at his touch, whining in his hold ‘really? Already?’ not expecting sex this soon.

‘Really’ he replies, voice thick with arousal. Suddenly he moves one of his hands lower and cups you through your panties, feeling the hotness of your cunt radiate. You moan needily and he slips a few fingers inside your panties, running his fingers through your obscene amount of wetness. It takes him far too long to slip the first finger inside of you and when he does, you absolutely crumble against him. You feel yourself soaking his hand and you couldn’t care less. He has two fingers curling against your insides and you want nothing more than to sit on this mans thick dick and have a mind-blowing orgasm. 

Of course, he doesn’t let you cum yet, he just teases you until you’re about to scream in frustration. So, you find yourself reaching for his pants with a whine, trying desperately to get them off of him and you hear him chuckle at you. ‘Shut up.. Need you..’ you say deprived.

After a few more minutes of kissing and him having you at the precipice of an orgasm, he has enough and tugs your shorts off aggressively and with zero care where they end up.

He pulls your sweater off and you practically rip his shirt off of him.

‘Please?’ you whimper, him under you, watching you already fall apart for him.

He lowers his joggers just enough for you to get to his dick, moving quickly. You can tell he’s eager to get inside of you. 

‘Shit’ he says breathily when his dick rubs against the slit of your wet and puffy cunt. 

‘Condom?’ he asks gruffly and it surprises you. You and Wooyoung don’t use condoms… You haven’t since you both got tested, two months into your relationship. Also, you’ve always been on birth control, but you’re far too drunk with lust to think properly or question him so instead of replying you just grab his dick and angle it towards your entrance and drop down on him.

The moan he lets out reverberates through your apartment. He fills you up so perfectly. His thickness stretches you out and before dropping down on him again, you bring your fingers down to where you are both connected and whimper at the feeling. He must get be getting impatient, because he grips your hips hard enough to bruise and thrusts up into you, fully sheathing himself inside of you.

Sweat drips from his forehead as he starts to fuck you harder, and after a few minutes he gets impatient and you get on your knees for him, anxious for him to get back inside of you, your wetness dripping down your thighs. You both sigh in relief when he finally gets back in.

He’s pounding you from behind and you feel his fingertips already bruising your hips, but you honestly love it. The way his cock drags against your insides has you nearly in tears and you whine, pushing back on his cock. He catches your hips mid-thrust and helps guide you back onto him even harder. The meat of his thighs slaps against your ass so deliciously.

He’s grunting behind you, holding onto you possessively ‘yeah? Like my cock, sweetheart?’ he asks huskily. You trail off in response, sounding a pitiful mess, almost in tears ‘yes, the best’ tears fall from your eyes and you can tell from behind you that he’s getting close already. ‘No one can make you feel this good?’ he asks again, his tone dominant and intense, his voice deep. ‘Just you..’ he knows how easily he can make you fall apart. you grip your hands harder onto the couch and you’re having a hard time thinking straight with him fucking you so hard, just then he reaches his hand towards your front and starts to rub circles onto your clit. You are delirious at this point. He knows that you’re close and spreads your legs further, giving him room to abuse your puffy clit. Your peak is coming and you can’t form words at this point ‘only I can make you feel this good’ he whispers in your ear with certainty and determination. You’re not exactly in the right state of mind to wonder why he’s being so dominant, with your orgasm at arms reach. You’re whining and writhing under him, and with a slight pinch to your clit you find yourself cumming on his cock. You practically scream form the strength of it and he moans loudly behind you, fucking into you ruthlessly, his sweat dripping on your back. Just when you think he’s about to cum, he pulls out of you and finishes outside of you. Moaning loudly, he milks himself onto your ass. You feel cold all of a sudden. 

Why did he pull out? He is obviously oblivious, basking in his afterglow.  But you’re laying there confused.

‘Thanks, baby.. I needed that.’ he grabs some tissues to clean you up and softly flips you on your back on the couch. You see him all flushed and red from fucking you, his hair curled slightly from sweating. ‘...I did too. You didn’t come inside, though’ you say with a pout, feeling almost silly. He smiles at you ‘was my little slut wanting to be filled up?’ you turn to your side and he senses your mood slightly shifting, he comes to sit next to you on the couch. You’re still laying there mostly naked with his cum still dripping down your thighs. ‘I wasn’t even really thinking. I just know it can get messy’ you turn to him ‘well, don’t do that.’ he chuckles at you. ‘Never again, my love.’ after that, you both take a shower together, he rubs your back and kisses at the back of your neck, which has you giggling and pulling away. Being ticklish isn’t exactly romantic, you feel like.

He stays in the bathroom a bit longer and you decide to get your laptop and put on something for you both. 

You hear a buzzing coming from the living room, realizing it’s Wooyoungs phone. With things being more at ease now, you feel comfortable grabbing his phone and heading to the bathroom door to knock ‘Woo, your phone is going off. Is your hair dry yet?’

After you say that it buzzes again and by accident you see who it’s from, only seeing a snippet of a couple of messages. 

Hana Are you done yet?

Hana I miss you.

The last message is what shocks you the most.

Hana Why won’t you just tell her already??

You drop his phone loudly as he opens the bathroom door, some steam coming out.

‘Hey, what’s wrong?’ he sees you looking pale-faced and stunned. He looks worried.

Ha, worried? You thought.

‘I saw your messages’ You say bluntly. You’ve had enough with being timid and calm about this. You’re done.

He suddenly looks nervous ‘my messages?’ he asks, looking confused.

‘Yes, your messages. Now get the fuck out of my apartment’ you say with conviction.

He just stares at you, his jaw slightly dropped.

‘I don’t think you read what you think you did’ he says calmly.

You scoff at him, looking at him like he thinks you’re some sort of idiot ‘really? Because according to Hana you have something to tell me, what might that be?’

‘Look, y/n, we need to talk but -’

You cut him off in frustration ‘I can’t with these lies. I fucking can’t anymore’ you break off and feel some tears of frustration fall out of your face, which you try hiding from him. ‘did you really come by just to fuck me and then leave me?’

he looks baffled ‘what are you talking about y/n?’ 

a few seconds pass and he decides to try again.

‘Can we please sit down and talk?’ he asks exasperatedly.

‘Why? So you can tell me that we’re over, or that you did in fact cheat on me?’ ‘I trusted you, I really did. You knew what I went through.’

Instead of responding he just stares at you sadly. He has the audacity to look guilty, to look upset at this.

‘Please leave.. Please. I can’t do this, not tonight, not any more’ 

‘y/n, please listen to me, just hear me out-’ he tries to explain, at least you think he’s trying to explain, but you can’t bear to even hear his voice right now.

‘Please! Please leave!’ you wail.

‘I can’t leave you like this, I can’t.’ he says desperately, trying to reason with you. His body trying to inch closer to you and you pull back quickly, not wanting to be touched by him.

You let out a wet laugh 

‘Sure you can, you’ve done it before.’ you know it was a low blow, but you honestly don’t fucking care how he feels right now.

‘Leave. I’m calling San.’ he scoffs at you, looking far too pissed off, something changes in his aura at the mention of his friend. ‘what a fucking surprise. The moment I leave, you call San, just like clockwork. You know for getting mad at me for spending time with someone else, you look pretty fucking hypocritical.’ he seethes.

Before you can even think it over, your hand meets his cheek. He stares at you in complete shock. ‘I would never do anything to betray you, Wooyoung. I love you so fucking much it drives me insane. I let you in, I never do that. I would never stoop that low. oh, and San? Your best friend? He’s a good person, and fuck you for thinking that he would do something so malicious’ you say then fall onto the floor and break into a sob. Barely able to breathe. this snaps Wooyoung out of his sudden anger and again, he tries to come comfort you and you just beg him to leave. Regretfully, he gives up and leaves, knowing that he can’t do anything to help you, not now. he did this to you, and as much as he wants to comfort you, he doesn’t deserve to. he tells you how much he loves you and how fucking sorry he is before he leaves in shame and remorse. You need time, he’ll try to give that to you. in the meantime, you’re left on the floor, in an absolute mess, having trouble breathing from the strength of your cries. 

After catching your breath finally muster some energy to call San, trying to calm down enough to talk.

He answers after a few rings ‘Hey you, I was just thinking of you, I saw the weirdest goldfish at the -’ 

He stops talking when he realizes that you aren’t responding and he just hears harsh breathing on the other line.

‘You okay, princess?’ you just sob in response and that was all that he needed. ‘I’ll be there in ten minutes. Just breathe. Can you unlock the door for me? That’s all you need to do.’ he says gently. ‘Unlocked already’ you sniffle.

‘Just ten minutes.’ and he hangs up after a minute, promising to hurry.

There was some slight traffic, so San ends up getting there about 20 minutes later. The sight he finds upon entering the apartment is you on the floor, at the edge of your bed, curled into a circle with a bra and your sleeping shorts on, hickeys covering your neck and chest.

He doesn’t even need to ask to know that whatever happened was Wooyoungs fault.

He carries you as softly as possible to your bed, doing his best not to wake you since he knew whatever happened - you’d need the energy later to deal with it.

All he knew, was that he was about to break his friend’s nose.

[jethro-pride98]

With a side of Jealousy

Summary: Reader goes on these little dinner dates with Fornell. One time Gibbs goes to the same place and gets jealous and soon realizes his feelings for her. They have a confrontation then eventually Gibbs and reader get together.

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut.

A/N: it’s my first time writing. Please be honest and let me know what you think!❤️🖤 Thanks @alkow for the title idea and for giving me the confidence to post and start writing again

Y/N always enjoyed it when Tobias Fornell took her out for dinner. She was pretty sure that he knew there was little chance of luring her away from NCIS to join the FBI. For all that he could offer in the way of a well equipped lab and electronic toys to play with, the deal breaker that NCIS had and the FBI never would was Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Although she had pondered more than once that if Gibbs' rule 12 was ever the only thing standing between the two of them, then her leaving to work for the FBI and having Gibbs to come home to at night might turn out to be a girl's dream. But with the likelihood of Gibbs ever seeing her that way pretty minimal she'd settle for appreciating his company at work and enjoying the perks of a slap-up meal at a really fancy restaurant on the FBI dime at irregular intervals. Although Y/N didn't fancy him in the slightest, Fornell was pleasant company and she suspected that he rather liked her company too, they weren't above a little harmless flirting at their meals, both knowing that it would never lead to anything. Whether he realised Fornell was also a goldmine of tiny details about Gibbs, having a shared ex-wife between them, and Y/N was a master at teasing such snippets out of him.

She also enjoyed Fornell's tales of his young daughter. Y/N knew Gibbs had a soft spot for the girl because her mother was the ex-wife that Gibbs shared with Fornell. So as the nights drew in and the weather grew harsher foreshadowing the approaching winter Y/N was delighted to accept Fornell's invite to dinner. It was also an excuse for Y/N to dress up in an elegant and formal way that she never bothered with in her real life. Now the two of them were enjoying an intimate meal at an exclusive restaurant, tucked away in an alcove by the wall, with a very attentive young waiter that Y/N idly noted was getting on Fornell's nerves.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was happy to cultivate his reputation as a bastard, but what he didn't advertise too widely was that he could also be a gentleman when the moment arose. He could be quite charming when he wasn't distracted by little things like his job. So when the widow of one of his Marine buddies contacted him to say she'd be in town for a few days and would he like to take her out to dinner he knew just the place - small and expensive - and when he put his mind to it he could spruce up pretty good. He'd known Amanda - a redhead - and her husband well, years ago when he still had a wife and a daughter of his own, but had not seen her for years.

When he arrived at the restaurant Gibbs had routinely surveyed the entire room, spotting Fornell at his table, but not quite recognising the dark-haired woman in the elegant dress who sat opposite him with her back to Gibbs. Briefly catching Fornell's eye he had nodded to him as they were shown to their own table across the restaurant. As Fornell had done, Gibbs seated himself with a view of the restaurant - looking out for trouble - leaving his date with her back to the room.

As Gibbs held the chair for his date to sit down, Fornell leaned conspiratorially across the table and indicated across the room to Y/N. "Well look what the cat dragged in." Y/N twisted round in time to see Gibbs seating his date and taking his own seat, neither looking their way while they were occupied. Her stomach flipped and "Wow" slipped from her lips as she took in how handsome he looked and the flame red hair cascading down the woman's back. Fornell smirked, "Yeah, not often we see Jethro dressed like that, must be a special occasion."

Y/N turned back to their meal, trying to put all thoughts of Gibbs out of her mind - which was difficult because this was the last place she would have expected to run into him and her mind was busy trying to parse what he would be doing here and who the woman he was with could be. She had no claim on him, he was her boss, and what he did in his personal time was no business of hers even if she would like the situation to be otherwise. Fornell had been taking Y/N to dinner for a number of years, partly in the vain hope that she might leave NCIS to come and work for him but also partly because he enjoyed a meal in her company and an added bonus was that he could justify the occasional expensive meal with her on expenses. It had become a routine that they shared a dessert, aimless flirting notched up a ratchet or two as they shared a spoon and even fed each other a mouthful or two.

Gibbs' attention kept being drawn to Tobias and his date. There was something familiar about her, but the loose hair and evening dress conspired to confuse him, leaving a niggling familiarity that he couldn't quite place. He wasn't aware that Tobias had a girlfriend currently and was intrigued at the apparent intimacy as the FBI Agent shared a strawberry sundae with the woman opposite him - they had to know each other well to behave like that in public. Sadly while Gibbs' brain grasped for what he hadn't quite taken in about the situation across the restaurant from his table, he wasn't really paying adequate attention to his own companion. It was only when Y/N excused herself to go to the powder room once she and Fornell had finished their dessert, that Gibbs suddenly realised what had been niggling at him, why the woman had seemed more and more familiar. A shaft of what he refused to acknowledge as jealousy stabbed through him and he excused himself from his own table to follow Y/N.

Y/N left the bathroom with her attention on the purse she clutched, snapping it shut, so she didn't immediately spot Gibbs lurking in the darkened hallway, not until he grabbed her wrist far too tightly and pulled her round to face him. "What the hell are you doing here with Fornell?" he growled. His expression was as menacing as she'd ever seen on him, though she wasn't accustomed to it being levelled at her. Years of reading the man came into play and she could sense a possessiveness to his anger. 'Well screw you mister, I might want it otherwise but you have no claim on me,' passed through her mind and before she could stop herself she'd slapped him across the face. He dropped her wrist and took a small step backward in response. She idly noted that he didn't put his hand up to where she had slapped him. "Not that it's any of your business, but I get a free meal from the FBI every now and then in an effort to recruit me. You know all about it and you don't generally care, but if you are going to behave like this then perhaps I should consider the offer. Fornell is always a perfect gentleman, unlike you." With that Y/N brushed past him to return to the table. Pausing to catch her breath after the angry outburst Gibbs had provoked she didn't want Fornell to know about it and start asking questions. Gibbs watched her return to her table, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Only once she had gone did he allow himself to ruefully rub his jaw. 'O.K. Marine, that was a stellar performance.'

Y/N tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep,pondering who Gibbs' date could have been and why the hell he thought he had any right to be angry at her night out with Fornell. She picked up the phone several times only to put it down again - toying with talking it over with Ducky or even phoning Gibbs himself but finally coming to the conclusion that Gibbs owed her an apology. Finally she decided that Gibbs could stew in his own juices the next day while she had a day off to go Christmas shopping. Unless a case came in the next day she was up-to-date on all urgent work, so a day off would work well for all of them - especially with Christmas fast approaching - and maybe she'd be less angry with Gibbs by Monday. If Gibbs was going to apologise she'd make him work for it and if he thought a cup of black coffee and a "Good job, N/N" was going to cut it this time he was wrong. Across town, Gibbs had delivered his date back to her hotel having just about managed to be an attentive companion for the remainder of their evening, and was sanding a little too roughly on one of the ribs of the half-built boat in his basement. He didn't know quite how he'd come to upset Y/N so badly earlier, but every time he thought of her feeding a spoonful of that dessert to Fornell his blood boiled. Tomorrow, he'd talk to her tomorrow.

Finally in the wee small hours they both managed a few hours of fitful slumber. First thing the next morning Gibbs approached Y/N's lab with a cup of coffee in hand by way of apology, only to find the room quiet and lifeless in her absence. Which left him growling and snapping at his team with barely supressed frustration through a slow day of paperwork. Tony's muttered: "Geez, the boss *really* needs to get laid." earned him a headslap from Gibbs hard enough to make him truly see stars after which all three of them kept their heads down below their computer monitors where Gibbs could barely see them.

Y/N spent a pleasant day buying Christmas gifts for all but one of her friends, losing herself in the thoughts of what they would like and successfully pushing aside all thoughts of Gibbs whenever his image or his behaviour the previous evening threatened to intrude. She knew men generally, and Gibbs in particular, well enough to recognise that his behaviour the previous night seemed to be sparked by jealousy. But he'd never had a problem with her having dinner with Fornell before, she'd never hidden it from him, and besides he'd had a very attractive date of his own with him from what she could see, so he had no claim over her, no right to get angry. Every time she thought of it she got angry herself and truth be told a little jealous.

When Y/N returned home, laden down with bags and gifts, and tired from her day out, the very last thing she expected to find was Leroy Jethro Gibbs sitting quietly in the darkness on her sofa. He was so quiet that she'd dropped all of the bags in a corner, hung her coat in the hallway and shed her boots before entering her lounge turning the light on and coming face to face with the man himself. Her Y/E/C eyes flashed angrily when she saw him, the annoyance she'd been trying to squelch all dayreturning in extra force at his unexpected presence.

"So it's breaking and entering now, is it...? Jethro." His uninvited appearance seemed to encourage the informality of using his first name, in the scornful tone she'd heard Director Shepard use on him over the years. Gibbs stood up and took a step towards her, both of them instantly aware that her boots usually made her the same height as him and suddenly without them he had gained a couple of inches advantage over her. For an instant he didn't know what to say or do, he never had been good with words, or with women's feelings and then without a conscious decision he closed the gap between them, placed a large, gentle hand behind her neck and leaned down to press his lips against hers.

Y/N’s first instincts were to fight him off, and she briefly pushed against his chest with her hands, before her brain caught on to the notion that she'd far rather be kissing the man than fighting with him and her anger melted away. She stopped struggling, and opened her mouth to him, tentatively touching her tongue to his lips, at which point his tongue drove passionately into her mouth and his other hand snaked round her to crush her to him in a possessive hug.

There was a very short pause for air, and a growled "Mine," from Gibbs before he continued thoroughly kissing her, leaving Y/N grateful that his embrace was holding her up because she was sure her legs had melted. Gibbs broke away from her again, turning his attention to her jaw line, her ear, nibbling and kissing down her neck and she briefly wondered if he'd eaten during the day or was she dinner. His hands began wandering, his touch setting her skin on fire and driving all other thoughts from her mind. This needed taking to somewhere she could reciprocate his attention, preferably bed and preferably without all the winter clothing that was keeping them apart. With years of lusting after Gibbs behind her, Y/N was getting very aroused at his touch even though it was yet to become overtly sexual and she in turn could feel the effect she was having on him where their bodies were pressed together in his embrace.

Y/N disentangled herself enough to work at the sport jacket he was wearing, pushing it off him from inside and working her hand under his shirts to the warm skin beneath, at the same time stepping between his legs and easing him backwards gently with her body weight. Gibbs took the hint, moving slowly backward and shrugging his jacket off at the same time, allowing himself to be gently manoeuvred backward toward the bedroom, shedding clothes as they went.

Somewhere along the way there was a pause and their eyes met, despite his lust-blown pupils Gibbs blue eyes held a predatory possessiveness that took her breath away. He searched her face for a moment, perhaps looking for her permission to proceed, and with an almost imperceptible nod he seemed to make the decision that Y/N had been convinced that he'd never make. As they continued to the bedroom he made short work of her skimpy top, and callused fingers caressing her buttocks and stroking down her stocking-clad legs, which he lifted up to his hip, somehow removed her underwear as well.

By the time Y/N landed gently on her back on the bed, her bra had gone too and Gibbs had latched onto one pert nipple with his mouth while teasing the other between thumb and forefinger. He eased down her body removing his own shirt and undershirt in a smooth motion that barely interrupted his worship of her body. His hands swept up the back of her legs from her knees, ending by pushing her short skirt up above her waist and out of the way and his tongue homed in on exactly where she wanted to be touched, making her writhe underneath him while his fingertips danced over the back of her thighs. Y/N reached down blindly, needing to touch him and finding only the rippling muscles at his shoulders and the oh-so-strokeable short hair at the nape of his neck. He knew exactly when she was ready for him, standing up from where he knelt beside the bed, belt and trousers already undone, but still on for the moment. She thought he looked ever so slightly sheepish as he gruffed "Condom?", removing his trousers and boxers in one movement as she sat up and extracted the foil packet from the bedside cabinet. He knelt on the bed beside her, giving the base of his erection a firm squeeze as he allowed her to roll the condom on, while she took the opportunity of her first chance to really touch him. He positioned himself between her legs, lining up to enter her gently but with one smooth movement, then he surprised her by rolling them over so that she was above him, until she realised that the position allowed him to stimulate her clit with his shaft as he thrust in and out. He may have been underneath, but as his hips pistoned up and down there was no mistaking who was in control, especially as being underneath allowed his hands to roam everywhere over her skin while he plundered her mouth again. Every thrust of his hips pushed his cock deep inside her, the friction against her clit driving Y/N higher until waves of pleasure washed over her as her orgasm hit and then she was dimly aware of Gibbs' movements becoming more erratic as he too reached his climax.

The caress of his fingertips on her back slowed to a stop as Y/N snuggled into the warm furry chest beneath her, his performance as a wonderful lover only spoiled by the fact that he'd already begun snoring gently, his softening cock still buried inside her. Y/N smiled to herself, she too felt sleepy after the previous troubled night and great sex. She wriggled off of him, disentangling them from each other and removing and disposing of the condom before reaching out and finding some bedding to pull over them and settling under his arm, with her head on his shoulder, allowing herself to drift off - despite still wearing her skirt and stockings.

Y/N wasn't sure if it was the gentle caresses or the rumbling stomach behind her that woke her. It was only a little after 5am, but they'd missed dinner and had a pretty early night, so she'd had a good night's sleep already. "Morning'," said the man in whose warm embrace she lay snuggled, and he leaned over to give her the sort of soft cheek kiss that usually went with a "Good job, N/N". She marvelled at how gentle he could be, compared to the fierceness she was accustomed to at work. He shifted a little behind her and she could feel his morning erection nestled against her buttocks. She briefly entertained the idea of a morning bout of sex, but then both their stomach's rumbled and he kissed her again and said: "How 'bout I buy us breakfast? Seem to recollect missing dinner. There a diner nearby?" "Yeah, I know a good place." Y/N said quietly, moving to get out of bed, but Gibbs' arms tightened around her, stopping her. "Mine," he growled again. "Possessive, much," Y/N grinned at him. He squeezed her gently again. "You've known me long enough..." "...to think that this would never happen." she finished the sentence for him. "What about rule 12, huh? This better be more than a cheap ass style apology, Mister." She was beginning to get angry again, there was so much going on here that she didn't understand - and while Gibbs was pretty eloquent *without* words when he was ordering people around, relationships required a whole lot more finesse than even he could manage with an expression or gesture. "I look like a cheap ass?" He scowled at her "No" He rolled over onto his back on the mattress, his chest bare where Y/N had pulled away from him and wrapped herself in the sheet at the edge of the bed, turning on the light as she did so. Running a hand over his forehead and sighing he said wearily: "Guess I need to revise rule 12 now."

There was a pause, Y/N still couldn't read exactly what he meant and was torn between hope that this was the beginning of something and fear that it wasn't. He didn't exactly sound happy at the idea of revising rule 12. He leaned up on an elbow and looked at her. "I... The other night... when I saw you with Fornell. Don't know what came over me..." She wasn't used to Gibbs sounding so unsure of himself. There was another pause as he grasped for words to explain but then he got completely side-tracked. "Cheap ass -style apology? You been on the receiving end?” Now she could clearly read jealousy in his voice, which at least made her feel better - a jealous Gibbs she could understand, even if she didn't really know why. "No. I've seen it work for Tony, but he knows I don't consider seduction to be an apology." She looked pointedly at Gibbs. "You still owe me an apology for your behaviour at the restaurant. I thought you knew both of us well enough to know that I *like* Fornell but nothing more. And anyway what about your date, shouldn't you have been paying attention to her, not me?"

Gibbs looked down at the covers almost - almost - as if he was hanging his head in shame. Quietly he said, "Amanda's the widow of one of my Marine buddies, she... and Shannon... were good friends. Haven't seen her in years." "Oh." was all Y/N could manage in response, and then the moment was broken as Gibbs' stomach rumbled loudly again. "Breakfast," he said firmly. "Then we've got the whole weekend to figure out how you'd like me to apologize - if you'll let me."

Y/N’s heart soared. She finally had the man she always wanted.

[aerynwrites]

The Devil You Know - 5

Chapter 5: Explosive Moments

(Gif by @pedroispunk)

Author’s Note: Phew, It’s finally finally hear you guys! I am so sorry I made y’all wait so long for this chapter, I honestly have no excuse lol. I hope you guys enjoy this step in Javier and readers journey because I know I did! Also - Thank you so so so much to @hiscyarika and @murdermewithbooks for reading over this chapter for me and catching all of my terrible tense errors. This chapter would not be anywhere near as polished as it is without you! I love you guys!

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Blood, guns, mentions of drugs, canon typical violence, NSFW themes (but not really smut tho?) just like making out and stuff followed bu non descriptive sexual content.

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“What do you want us to be?”

The words seem to ring in your ears and bounce around in your head as you try to formulate an answer. What do you want with Javier? Do you want to just continue this…whatever this is? Or do you want more? It feels like your brain has been turned to mush, unable to function properly after Javier kissed you like a man starved, and then threw this question at you in response to your own query about this relationship.

Your eyes focus in on him, taking in the fact that his chest is still moving as quickly as yours after your heated kiss just moments before. But more importantly, as your eyes meet his - while they are blown wide with desire – you can decipher some other emotion there. Something that goes beyond just physical attraction and lust, and that’s what finally seems to ground you in this moment as your brain seems to catch up with itself and allows you to stutter out a response.

“I just–“ your mouth feels dry as you try and speak again, “I just want to be yours Javier, only yours. And I want you to be mine,” you finally confess, the words falling past your lips in a hushed whisper.

You hear a rush of breath leave Javi’s lips as he lets out a breath you didn’t even know he was holding, and then he’s on you once more. Lips crashing against yours even more fiercely than before, a certain dominance behind his actions. Your hands move to his shoulders squeezing harshly and you let out a small gasp as he gives your lower lip a particularly harsh bite. He doesn’t give you time to protest as his hands move from your waist down to your thighs pulling on them lightly in a silent request to jump. You comply without hesitation, wrapping your legs around his waist as his hands grip your thighs to keep you steady. Javier must have remembered where your bedroom is from his first time here, because he manages to get you both there in once piece, his lips never leaving yours until he sits you down on the bed, crawling over you. His lips are on you once more this time trailing kisses from your jaw down your neck, all while his hands slide downwards toying with the hem of your sundress.

“It took everything in me to keep my hands off you at that bar,” he breathes, lips ghosting over your ear, “wearing this dress that leaves very little to the imagination.”

You can’t help the small whimper that slips past your lips as his hands slide back up your body, pulling your dress with it, “Well,” you gasped, your own hands moving to hastily work at the buttons of his salmon colored shirt, “You didn’t do a very good job,” you tease, “your hands were on me all night.”

You feel your heart flutter at the laugh that rumbles in Javier’s chest just as you finish with the last button on his shirt. He sits back on his knees pulling the offending article all the way off before leaning forward and pulling you up with him, so your legs are on either side of his.

“Can you blame me?” he groans, finally tugging your dress up and over your head, his fingers moving to toy with the back clasps of your bra, unhooking it expertly before sliding it from your arms and tossing it somewhere into the room.

His lips return to your neck, nipping gently at the spot just below your ear as your own hands move to explore the newly exposed skin of his torso. They skate across the warm expanse of his chest before moving to his back, studying the way the muscles flex under your fingertips. You can’t help the shudder that runs up your spine at the realization of the strength he possesses, as if the earlier confrontation at the bar wasn’t testament enough. The way he effortlessly holds you to him as he moves you beneath him, keeping himself suspended over you with just one hand beside your head and brings his lips to yours once more. This man is stronger than he appears and the thought that you trusted him enough to give yourself completely to him – make yourself so vulnerable to him – it makes the both of you gasp in pleasure.

“And when that pendejo touched you-“ you feel a familiar warmth pool in your lower belly at the small growl that slips past his lips, “I could have killed him-” he pants, pulling away to look you directly in the eyes, “because nobody is allowed to touch what’s mine.” As the words leave his lips, a small moan works its way up your throat and out of your mouth, and you pull him against you, wanting to feel his skin against yours.

It feels like the rest of the night passes in a blur. This time with Javier was different than before, while it was anything but slow and sensual, you could tell there was something else there. Some other emotion besides carnal desire was present in the room. You could feel it when his lips met yours gently, no rush or fierceness behind it – or when his hands roamed every inch of your skin slowly, worshiping you with words of praise and pleasure. But nothing compares to the feeling when it’s all said and done, both of your chests heaving in the aftermath of your highs. You turn onto your side to face him, watching as he leans over the side of the bed – fishing around for a moment before he produces a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. Pulling one from the pack and lighting it, he takes a long drag before leaning back into the pillows, letting out an even longer sigh, smoke filling the air.

You are somewhat surprised when he reaches out to you, tugging you closer to him until you’re pressed against his side, both of your bodies still covered in a sheen of sweat. But neither of you seems to care as Javier wraps his arm around you and you rest your head on his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat filling your ears. The room is filled with silence for a moment, the only sound being Javier’s breaths as he continues to smoke. You are the first to break it.

“So, was that a yes?” you ask quietly, shifting so you are looking up at him.

Javier lets out a small chuckle, putting a finger under your chin and guiding you up to place a kiss on your lips, “Querida,” he mumbles, lips brushing yours, “I thought I made it very clear that I want you to be mine.”

You can’t help the large smile that graces your lips at his words as you capture his lips with yours again. You can feel him smile into you, before pulling away and pressing a quick peck to your temple. He then snuffs out his cigarette in the ashtray, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. You feel a small sense of confusion fill you as you watch him stand from the bed and pick up his pants, tugging them on. You sit up fully now, holding the sheet to your chest as you watch him locate the rest of his clothing as well, pulling his shirt back on, fingers working at the buttons slowly.

“Where are you going?” you ask, voice timid as he pulls his shoes on.

Javier looks over to you now, and he feels his heart clench slightly at the hurt look on your face. He doesn’t want to hurt you, that is the last thing he wants to do, but if he is being honest – his brain is running wild with everything that has happened in the past few hours. He had beat the shit out of some guy at a bar for simply touching you, then he came back to your place and basically confirmed that he wanted to be in a committed relationship with you. It was a lot for him. This – growing this attached to you, making whatever this was official, it isn’t supposed to happen. This whole thing started out as a ploy to get closer to the DEA, a plan to get an even further head start against the people threatening his livelihood. He didn’t expect to fall in love with you.

Love? Is that what this is?

Javier stands abruptly as the word crosses his mind, and he shakes his head – trying to expel the troubling thoughts from his mind.

He walks over to you, leaning onto the bed slightly, “I have work stuff I have to deal with – I probably shouldn’t have even come out tonight,” he admits, only halfway lying.

You open your mouth, instinctively wanting to ask him to stay. Not only because you just want him here with you, but because you’re afraid of the things you would face when you finally fall asleep. The nightmares plaguing your slumber have become unbearable, rendering you wide awake most nights, terrified of going back to sleep. Afraid of seeing the people you cared about most gunned down or seeing Carlos lying motionless in that market again. You had hoped, for one blissful moment, that you would be able to sleep peacefully tonight with Javier at your side. but as you look at him now, a slight panic but also regret swimming in his eyes, you can’t bring yourself to say anything. You don’t want to burden him with your problems, not when you’ve finally made a step forward with him. You don’t want possibly ruin things by spouting off your problems. So, you just nod, forcing a small smile.

“Okay,” you breathe, “I understand.”

You see a small sense of relief wash over the man in front of you and he leans down capturing your lips with his in a quick kiss, before pulling back and brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. He stands back to his full height and backs towards the door slowly.

“What if I pick something up tomorrow and come over for dinner?” he suggests, standing in the doorway.

You shift slightly, “That would be great Javi but–“ you pause as he shifts in his spot, seemingly dejected at what he thinks is going to be your refusal.

You shake your head, “We just have a raid we’re doing tomorrow; I don’t know when I’ll be back,” you inform him, clenching the sheet in your hands.

Javier seems to straighten up at this, “A raid?” his voice is laced with concern.

“It’s uh-“ you run your hand through your hair, debating on whether you should tell him what is going on, and decide against it, “it’s just some low level drug guys,” you reassure, “It shouldn’t be anything major.”

You watch his jaw clench as he looks at you, as if he doesn’t believe what you’re saying. But if he doesn’t, he never says anything. He just nods and comes over, placing another small kiss to your lips before pulling away and resting his forehead against yours.

“Just–“ he pauses, taking in a deep breath, “be careful bonita, for me.”

You give him a small nod, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth, before he pulls away, “I will Javi.”

He gives you a curt nod, “Good. I’ll still see you tomorrow, yeah?”

A small laugh slips past your lips, “Yes, I’ll give you a call or something when I get back.”

Javier gives you a large smile and walks towards the door again but stops before he leaves the room and turns to you, “Goodnight, querida.”

“Goodnight, Javi,” you whisper.

But he’s gone before you can utter the words.

~~~~~

The next day, your mind keeps drifting to the night before, trying to decipher Javier’s confusing actions. He had made your relationship official, he wanted to be with you yet, when it came down to it – he still left. And for some reason, that stings worse than anything.

A loud call of your name breaks you from your thoughts and you looked over at Steve who is sitting across from you in the truck. You, Steve, Carrillo and his men are all sat in the back of a large truck, geared up and ready to infiltrate the house where the rogue cartel members have been operating.

“What?” you call back, fighting to be heard of the roar of the truck engine.

Steve shakes his head, “Are you okay? You’ve been out of it all morning.” He calls back.

You nod, adjusting the rifle in your hands, “I’m good Steve,” you reassure, hoping he believes you.

Steve looks skeptical but nods nonetheless, “I said that we are three minutes out from the rogue’s location – Carrillo says we will be coming in hot!” he informs you.

You nod.“We need to try and keep some of them alive,” you call out, informing everyone around you, “We won’t have any information if they’re all dead.”

Carrillo calls out his confirmation before shouting the orders to his men and looks back to you, “We’re coming up on location now – are you two ready?”

You and Steve look at each other and nod, “Ready as ever.”

The next few moments pass in an explosion of activity. You are in a heavy infantry truck, and Carrillo has the brilliant idea of using the truck itself as a battering ram – placing you directly into the rogue’s base and hopefully stunning them. As soon as the truck makes impact with the house, you, Steve and the rest of the men on board jump from the back of the truck and enter the building. You and Steve takes the hallway in the middle of the house while Carrillo and his men take the other rooms and the upstairs. As soon as you enter the building, a Sicario stands from his position on the floor pistol aimed at Steve but you down him before he can get a round off. Steve nods to you that he was okay, and you continue to move further into the house and down the hallway. You check the first door on your left while Steve takes the one on the right. You shove the door open and quickly scan the room, finding no one in the run-down bathroom.

“Clear!” you shout, backing out of the room and turning when you hear gunshots from Steve’s direction.

“Clear!” his voice meets your ears as he too exits his room before you both continue down the hallway.

There’s just one door left on the right and it’s closed. You hear several more shouts of ‘clear’ being shouted throughout the house as you and Steve approached the last door. You look to him, and he just nods to you, resting a hand on the doorknob. He quickly turns it and shoves the door open, allowing you to go in with your rifle aimed and ready. You quickly enter the room moving in a sideways motion so your eyes can be on the majority of the room. However, as soon as you get past the doorway, you are met with a cornered Sicario in the back of the room and a shotgun aimed directly at you.

“Gun!” you yell, diving to the side and pulling your own trigger as you just narrowly miss the large shotgun blast aimed for your head.

Your aim was true, and your own fire made contact with the Sicario that shot at you, sending him falling backwards into the wall behind him. Steve runs over to the fallen rogue and throws his shotgun out of reach before striding back over to you, pulling you up from the ground and gripping your upper arms tightly.

“Jesus Christ are you okay?” he asks you, eyes searching you desperately.

You nod firmly, “Yeah – I’m good, he missed me,” you assure, but furrow your brows when you see that Steve’s eyes are no longer on you but focused on something behind you.

You turn around, Steve’s hands falling from your arms and finally see what he’s looking at. The shotgun blast that missed you, landed in the wall instead, leaving a smattering of holes with a large blast centered in the middle leaving a chuck of dry wall missing. However, it isnt’ the destroyed wall that draws your attention – It’s the slight shine of something in the wall. You and Steve look at one another curiously, before stepping forward and gripping the drywall firmly before slowly ripping it away. After a few moments, a considerable amount of the wall is ripped away and you and Steve stare in awe at what you have found. You take a step back, pulling your walkie from your belt and pressing the button.

“Carrillo,”

The radio crackles to life, “What is it?”

“You’re going to want to see this.”

~~~~

The unrelenting afternoon sun filters in through the windows and the large hole in the main room of the house. You, Carrillo, and Steve all stand staring at all of the exposed walls of the home – in complete shock at the sight before you. Carrillo’s men had taken down all of the drywall in the house, exposing what had to be thousands of kilos of cocaine hidden within the walls of the building. There has to be millions of dollars’ worth of this stuff in this house alone, and you know these low level Sicario’s didn’t make it themselves.

You walk over towards the window of the house, watching as one of Carrillo’s men lead a search dog around the property, seeing if they had anymore hiding places. Your eyes lazily follow the path of the dog as Steve and Carrillo continue to talk to one another.

“But where did they get it?” Steve asks, “There’s no way that twelve guys gathered and manufactured this much coke in this amount of time.”

Carrillo shrugs his shoulders and opens his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it, glancing back at the men from your position from the window, “They stole it.” You say simply.

Carrillo turns to you now, “From who? Los Carnales? Do you really think they got away with this much product without raising suspicion?”

You shake your head, “No, but think about it–“ you begin, “The cartel has been uncharacteristically quiet since the rogues have been on our radar. They haven’t been spotted at any of our check points, we haven’t seen any of the low-level drug runners at their usual haunts,” you list, “Los Carnales knows. And I can guess that their boss isn’t too happy about his own men betraying him and stealing millions of dollars of product in the process,” you turn back to the window, “And now that we have it…I have a feeling there is going to be a lot of noise.”

Steve begins to say something, but a loud and hurried barking catches your attention. Your eyes find the source of the sound, the earlier search dog you had been watching is going crazy over the shed several yards away from the house. You watch as one of the men approaches the shed with a pair of bolt cutters and cuts the lock away, swinging the doors open. You push off the window and turn towards the men behind you.

“I’m going to go check that out, see what they found,” you tell them, earning only a wave of the hand from Steve and Carrillo.

You roll your eyes slightly and move over towards the door leading out the back, and just as you pull it open, a deafening boom meets your ears and you are blown backwards. It feels like the next few seconds pass in slow motion. Your feet leave the ground as a wave of heat rolls over your body, the explosion shattering everything around you. Glass and rocks fly around you but you don’t even register the pain of the debris or the ringing in your ears – the only thing that plays over and over in your head are the words Javi uttered to you the night before.

“Be careful bonita, for me.”

Then you hit the ground with a smack, blood roaring in your ears as the dust settles around you.

////

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[matrixreimagined]

The Dream Chronicles

Chapter Eight

The poker game :)

The rest of the day was much of the same. Neo's muscles ached as Apoc continued to push him mercilessly. A quick lunch was followed by hours in the chair as Tank employed program after program.

He completed every combat program they had, including archery, sword fighting and using a bo staff. He learned to operate every known of gun and missile there was. He had already completed basic first aid; now he had moved onto anatomy and physiology. Pressure points and physical weaknesses of the body.

In the Matrix, Neo had bordered on being a pacifist. He avoided confrontation and had made it thirty plus years without throwing a punch.

Now, within days of being in the real world, he knew exactly how many pounds of pressure it took to break a jaw and the location of every major artery in the human body.  He had just moved on to defensive and aggressive driving when he was pulled out.

Neo opened his eyes and smiled at Trinity by his side. He reached out, running his hand down her arm and curling her fingers into his.

She used her spare hand to unplug him from the system. "You're done for the day."

Ten minutes earlier, he had argued against Tank saying the same thing. Now, he swung his legs from the chair and stood, bending down to give her a long-overdue kiss.

"I see how it is," Tank called over. "You listen to her but not to me."

"Can you blame me?" He tucked a lock of hair back behind her ear. "Dinner?"

She nodded and Neo looped his arm around her waist.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, leading him down toward the mess hall.

"Physically tired, mentally charged."

"Before bed, I'll take you to the infirmary. There'll be some topicals for your muscles."

Morpheus and Apoc were sitting down to eat as they entered, a map spread between them.

Trinity nodded to them as she grabbed their dinners and Neo set about making tea.

"I know it's a good location, but an abandoned asylum just seems to be asking for trouble. Aside from the homeless, you'll have every horny teen in the city breaking in."

"Horny-teens-turned-Agent in an abandoned building is how Ghost broke his arm two years ago," Trin said over her shoulder. "I'm with Apoc on this one."

"We need an exit south of the city. There isn't a lot of free real estate." Morpheus folded the map, clearing space for them before looking to Neo. "How was your training?"

He picked up the mugs and brought them to the table. "Apoc is brutal."

"I aim to please."

"But the programs are going well."

Trin set a tray in front of Neo and slid into the spot next to him. "He's completed all the combat programs. Tank is going to run him through the rest of the automobile training tomorrow. Apoc, if you'd be willing to pull a double with him tomorrow, I'd like you to run him through a few tracks."

He nodded. "Rather do that than run repairs."

"Amen to that," said Neo before pausing. "I, uh, haven't run repairs in the real world, have I?"

Trin patted his thigh. "Not yet."

"Having trouble distinguishing dreams from reality?" Apoc asked.

"Some." He rubbed his eyes absently. "There are moments when it's easier, but I still have to keep reminding myself where I am."

Far more frequently than he would like.

Luckily, he didn't have time to ruminate with his thoughts. The mess hall quickly filled with the others, momentarily distracting Neo from his concerns. Dinner was a rushed affair, Switch periodically banging on the table to get people to hurry up and cleared without delay.

Their excitement was contagious. Morpheus, who rarely joined the crew for games of chance and gambling, had eagerly stayed behind for the chance of knowledge that Neo held.

"I don't have any money," Neo said, as the others went to get the things they would bet.

"Here." Switch shoved a piece of paper at him. "Tear it up and write some kind of memory on each. You can call and raise based on the contents of the memory."

"And for the love of all that is real, exclude memories of just Trinity." Apoc said in a voice as close to begging as Neo had ever heard.

"You want me to gamble with my memories?" he asked incredulously, staring down at the paper.

Trin squeezed his thigh with a soft smile. "Not a bad idea. You control your narrative. What you want others to know or things you don't care about others knowing, write down. It'll sate their curiosity and offer us all a bit of insight."

Neo inclined his head, tearing the paper into twelve pieces. Trin gently nudged his head with hers, standing to go grab her own bets.

Tank came back with money and three jugs of Dozer's homemade booze, followed quickly by a bouncing Switch with a bag of clinking change.

"Is everyone playing?" she asked, tossing Morpheus the cards.

"I'm just going to watch," Mouse said, twitching as he leaned forward.

"Me, too," Dozer called from where he had started to pour drinks.

"And I'm just dealing." He untied the strap of leather that held them together and started shuffling.

Neo started scribbling on the notes. Drunk Sparks commandeers the logos; Mouse caught pants down in Matrix; Sparks Zion tattoo fiasco; Apoc v. Dillard vol. 1; Trinity v. Mouse arm wrestling; Tank and Sparks @ Cain's… Neo scratched his head, trying to think of the memories that weren't isolated around Trin. They were far and in between, more ghosts of memory fragments than anything, but he was able to think of a few more while the others returned to the table.

Trin slipped back into the seat next to him, her leg sliding close against his. He piled his papers quickly and slipped his arm back around her, resisting the urge to smile like a madman when she rested her head on his shoulder.

"You're gonna be able to see each other's cards if you're playing like that." Apoc told them as Morpheus started to deal.

With an amused huff, Trinity scooted down just a bit. Their legs were still touching under the table and Neo's hand still splayed across her back.

"Opening bet, a credit," said Switch, "Or a Messiah memory."

Everyone called, tossing in their coins and a single slip of paper.

"Two."

"Two."

"None."

"One."

"Two."

"One."

They went around again, Switch raising, then Trinity raising.

"Call," said Neo, tossing in another memory.

"Better be a damn good memory," Tank said. "That was worth two credits."

Morpheus went around again, dealing out a handful of cards.

"I'd be nice, Tank. Otherwise, he might throw in an embarrassing memory of you." Trin told him, not looking up from her own cards.

"Always a risk. Feeling lucky, Tank?"

"Not particularly. Two." He told Morpheus, who tossed him two new cards. "Be real, Messiah. We all know your memories tend to be… singularly focused…" Trin flipped him off. "You really got shit that'll embarrass me?"

"Embarrassment is subjective." Neo looked to Switch. "In or you out?"

"Call."

"I'm out." Apoc tossed his cards down.

"Raise."

"Call."

"Call. I'll admit I'm curious to the state of these memories."

"As am I," Morpheus said. "Although I'm not sure that memory is the right word."

"Prophecy?" Mouse piped up.

"Not prophecy." Neo shook his head. "There are too many variables and alternate futures. I dreamed about the club a hundred times and it was never once the same. Nor did it match what actually happened."

"Much to your disappointment," Switch said with a wink. "I got two pair."

"Beats my jacks," Tank said, tossing his cards to Morpheus as Cypher did the same.

Neo looked down to Trinity. He raised an eyebrow, waiting. "Full house, aces over eights."

"There goes my flush." Neo slid his cards to Morpheus as well as Trinity collected her winnings.

She set the change to the side and opened the first slip of paper.

"Sparks Tattoo Fiasco," she read aloud before looking at Neo. "Sparks got a tattoo?"

Neo nodded. "Again, can't guarantee it will happen in the future but one night, Sparks, Ghost, and I got wasted. Ghost passed out and Sparks and I woke up with tattoos."

"Oh my god, tell me they were matching," Switch begged.

Neo smirked. "Nah. I was drunk, but not quite enough to get matching tattoos that said 'sandwich' in Matrix code."

"Shut. Up," Tank said, bobbing his head. "He did not!"

"In one of my not-quite-memory-memories, yes, he did."

"And what did you get?" Trinity asked.

Neo smiled down. "That would be a memory for another time."

Her lips twitched in response as she stared up into his eyes.

"I don't get it," said Switch. "Is the tattoo dirty?"

"No," said Neo, finally and reluctantly looking away from Trinity. "Some things are just private."

Under the table, she reached for his hand. Trin ran her thumb along his palm.

She had never been big on touch. She didn't mind hugs or close quarters, but she had never particularly enjoyed it and she had never been one to seek it out.

But now, with Neo, it was hard to get through the day without the constant urge to find him. And seeing him, hearing him wasn't enough. She needed to feel him, his skin and his warmth, pressed against her. To remind her that he was real.

Morpheus started to shuffle for the next round.

"You've got two more memories, Trin," Cypher pointed out.

She reached for the next with her spare hand and hummed. "Mouse almost dies from marshmallows?"

"Yeah," said Neo. "That was in the Matrix, obviously. A group of us went in. You and I," He said to Trinity, "Went to talk to a potential. Mouse, Switch, and Apoc stayed behind at the site in case we brought the kid back with us."

He left out the fact that before they had reached the target, he and Trinity had pulled off the road and done some pretty incredible things to each other.

"We weren't there for this so I'm going off of a memory of a secondhand memory." He blinked, making sure he had the description right. "Anyway, Mouse found a bag of marshmallows in an old kitchen and bet Switch that he could fit fifteen marshmallows in his mouth."

"I can see where this is going," said Switch. "I love it."

"So Apoc told him he was a hazard to society. And Switch said, 'And a coward. Do twenty.'"

Mouse turned red but was still nodding along with wide-eyed fascination.

"Trin and I didn't end up pulling the kid that day, and we turned back. Walked in to find Mouse passed out and Apoc doing the Heimlich maneuver in the Matrix and Dozer doing CPR in the real world. No lives were lost but a dozen marshmallows were sacrificed."

"I only fit a dozen?" Mouse said, his face scrunching up in disappointment.

"I know, it's surprising," Switch added as Morpheus started to deal the next hand. "Your mouth is big enough; it should have easily held two dozen."

"This is un-real." Tank picked up his cards, shaking his head. "I can picture it happening."

"One of many eventualities," Trinity murmured, looking at her own cards.

"I'll take three," Switch told Morpheus before looking back at Trin. "What's the last memory?"

"Two," muttered Cypher.

"Two," Trinity said to Morpheus before she opened the last one and laughed, looking back to him. "Morpheus and the Alligator?"

Neo grinned back. A bizarre dream that had only occurred once but was strange enough that he remembered it. He had attributed it once to drinking too much before going to bed. Perhaps, he acknowledged as he recalled that particular memory, it was only a blend of such inebriations with his familiar companions.

Still, he wasn't quite ready to call it out of the realm of belief.

"The alligator. This one was a little bizarre; part of the reason I remember it so well. First, I think there should be rules specifically for when we free kids from Florida. A safety guide, if you will. Just one, Morpheus."

"One card or one alligator?" Tank quipped. "I'll take two."

"One of each, actually. So, this kid was from Florida and his family computer was in the basement. So, Link drops us at a...Link…" he repeated, blinking in surprise at the memory. Why was Link on the Neb? Where was Tank?

Trinity squeezed his hand softly and Neo shook his head, clearing his throat. "We were dropped at a nearby gas station and made our way over. Trin was watching for Agents nearby. Morpheus and I went to make contact.

"We decided to go in storm shelter doors in the cellar, so we went through the backyard, which would be our first mistake."

Apoc smirked, "And the second?"

"Yeah, that would have been not shutting the gate. We go in, make contact, give the kid instructions on where to meet us, and leave. Morpheus went out first and walked face to face into an alligator.

"Nasty looking thing. Had to be a good fifteen feet long. So Morpheus, instead of jumping out of the backyard, running, or even shooting the goddamn thing, tackles it. And Morpheus is yelling back at me to run, I'm yelling at him to move so I can shoot it. And he's just rolling around in this kid's backyard with an alligator.

"So, Trin hears the shouting. Thinks an Agent got past her or something and comes running down the street. So now, we have three people trying to be inconspicuous in the middle of Florida, dressed the way we do. Morpheus, on the ground wrestling an alligator; me, still screaming at Morpheus to let go of the alligator; and Trin, laughing so hard she can barely stand."

He finished his story to several amused chuckles.

"That was wild!" Switch said, shaking her head in disbelief.

"It was funny," Tank agreed, "but… I'm stuck on the fact that Link was Operating."

"As am I," Morpheus said, eyes narrowed.

Trin placed her hand back on his thigh and Neo was grateful for the sudden comfort. He didn't have explanations. He didn't understand it himself.

"I… wish I knew what to tell you," he said softly, putting his own hand on top of Trin's. "I'm trying to make sense of it. It was Link, I know that for certain. But I don't know why he was there, and you were gone."

"Was anyone else gone?" Dozer asked, no hint of anger or blame, just quiet curiosity.

"There are times… that you all are gone. When it's just me, Trinity, Morpheus, and Link."

Silence was met.

It was an uncomfortable declaration. The idea that Neo could remember eventualities where more than half of them were missing was unsettling to them all.

In desperate need to alleviate the growing concern, Neo added, "We've already established that it's not the future that I've been seeing in my dreams. Nothing that I've dreamed has fully come true."

Morpheus caught Trinity's eyes. "The Oracle could tell us."

"Soon," was all she said, looking back to her cards. "I call."

"We could plug him in and—"

"Neo is not going back into the Matrix until his training is complete."

The crew was watching as their captain and first officer volleyed back and forth.

"Then we could speed up the timeline…"

"No, Morpheus," Trinity said with a sense of finality. "Man over Messiah."

Silence stretched between them. Morpheus was nothing if not stubborn, but Trinity was holding her ground and not giving an inch.

Finally, the captain looked away and went back to dealing out the hand. Neo squeezed her hand in silent thanks.

Despite his distraction from the round, he somehow managed to win and kept his memories for another hand.

Switch demolished them all in the next, winning themselves two memories of Zion shore leave. The tension dissipated as Neo recalled the details of one particular adventure involving a little too much of Dozer's brew. They were all in stitches, Tank having fallen off the bench when Neo explained how Sparks had talked himself past the dock guards.

"You're all laughing," Neo said, shaking his head. "And it was all fun and games until Niobe was tipped off."

"NO!" Switch shouts, a smile on their face at that revelation.

"I remember going up against Agents, against Deadbolt, against Trin when she's mad, but I have never been more terrified in my life than when Niobe found us on the Logos.

"So, Trinity was supposedly playing guard outside the Logos, but actually was just babysitting us because we're drunk and stupid, and all of the sudden, we hear her talking. Then we hear Niobe's voice and Sparks just completely loses it. Starts to panic. Ghost tried to talk him down, but it was no use.

"Sparks figured there was no getting through the door without Niobe seeing, so he turned the ship on while it was still charging. Shorted the entire ship, grounded them to Zion for, like, two weeks."

The crew laughed, as he knew they would, but an offhand comment from Mouse about how Neo had all these memories but had technically never met Sparks filled him with an unexpected wave of discomfort.

He knew it, too. He'd had the same thought before with Niobe. All the memories felt so fucking real when he recounted them aloud but were speculative at best. What do you say to something like that?

Trinity was the only one who noticed the way he tensed. She leaned against him, gently massaging his leg to keep him grounded.

At the end of the round, she made excuses for them both. A bit of mild teasing came as Neo quickly got up to follow her.

He truly didn't mind. If anything, it made him feel good—almost as if it validated their affections toward one another. If the crew teased Trinity, it was because they could see that she cared for him, too.

Trinity just smiled as she rolled her eyes and took Neo's hand in hers.

With a final goodnight, she led him down the hall. She bypassed their room, which made him arch a brow.

"Infirmary," she explained. "I want to get that topical for your muscles."

He nodded, remembering their earlier conversation. Truthfully, he was a bit tense from all the training.

"Have a seat," she told him, walking over to one of the cabinets. He did as she asked, jumping up onto the table.

She pulled down a small silver tub and unscrewed the top.

"Take off your shirt."

He tried not to read too much into that. Instead, he slipped off the sweater and the undershirt beneath it. The air had a permanent chill and he braced himself for it but still had to resist a shiver as his chest was bared.

Trinity was, very purposefully, meeting his gaze.

She stepped around to the back, setting the tub on the table next to him. He kept his head facing forward and tried not to flinch when she placed her hands on his back. They were cold from the topical cream, but he didn't mind the feeling of her hands as they rolled across his body.

She avoided the plugs in his spine but massaged the cream into his skin. He barely resisted the urge to sigh.

Trinity's hands held calluses and scars from years of working on a hovercraft, but he didn't mind. He never had, in any memory. He loved that she worked hard.

There was a pause as Trinity took more of the ointment. And then her hands began to massage his shoulder and down an arm. She rubbed the cream in, and Neo felt his eyes close.

After a few days of trying to rebuild his body, it felt incredible. Healing him. But more than that, it was Trinity. Touching him as much as she ever had in the real world.

She switched to the other side, beginning with his shoulder before working her way down. Down his bicep, his forearm, his wrist, before he caught her hand. He drew her around the table to the other side until she stood in front of him.

It was getting harder and harder to withhold from saying it: I love you.

But he reminded himself that it was for her sake. She was too good to him, was doing everything to keep him safe and comfortable and happy.

The least he could do was withhold from pushing or overwhelming her.

"You're perfect," he said instead.

"Far from it." She gave him a small smile.

"I--" he stopped himself again. It was almost too easy to say what he wanted most, but he settled with, "I don't know what I'd do without you."

And that was the truth. His everything, standing right before his eyes.

Her lips twitched. "How do you feel?" She gestured back towards where she had put the cream.

"Better," he admitted, and he truly did.

"Good. A good night's rest will help, too." She reached back, grabbing the tub and screwing the lid back on. "We can do this again tomorrow, if you're still sore."

"Don't suppose I'll get a morning off anytime soon?"

"Soon," she promised. "There's always something to be done on the Neb, but I want you to have at least one or two days off a week from the intensive physical stuff. And at least one day off from the construct."

He nodded. Truthfully, it was more than he expected. Not quite as much as he had hoped.

"How long until we head hom—to Zion?"

Her apartment was not his apartment. She had been gracious enough to let him stay with her on the Neb but they hadn't talked about Zion yet. Perhaps she might want to have her space back, at least for a little while. He couldn't fault her for that, even if the idea of sleeping apart made him queasy.

"It will be a while. Morpheus wants you to see the Oracle first. Probably spend a little bit of time inside the Matrix itself to test your ability." She shelved the salve before walking back over. "I'd guess about two weeks before we head back. Maybe more."

Morpheus liked to test the Neb's limits. And his crew. Neo knew both facts well.

"And for the record," she said as she stepped between his legs, resting a hand on each thigh. "You're staying with me in Zion."

His heart skipped a beat and he swallowed at the conviction in her voice. "Am I?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

She nodded once, her cheeks turning the slightest of pink. "Think I might be getting attached to you."

He slipped an arm around her waist. With him perched on the table, they were about the same height. He tugged her closer and Trin placed an arm over his chest, her hand resting over his heart.

"You asked what tattoo I got the night I went out drinking with Sparks. Do you still want to know?" he asked softly, reminded by the placement of her hand.

She licked her lips. "What?"

He covered her hand with his. "Your triquetra. Right here."

There was a hitch in her breath as she whispered, "Neo…"

He knew he should be a better man. That he should just leave it there, for now. That she was still adjusting, even if she was becoming attached.

But he couldn't.

He was selfish, he knew. But Zion and Morpheus and the rest of the Neb were counting on Neo to save the world. His world was already right in front of him.

"In every world I have known, I have loved you."

He kissed her before she could respond, saving her from that responsibility at the very least.

Her arm reached up and around his neck as he pulled her impossibly closer. He gently angled her head so he could deepen the kiss and continue to consume her the way he so craved.

Her body rolled against him and he fought a groan.

He could feel every curve of her body pressing into his bare chest. He longed to rip the sweater from her body and demonstrate just how well he knew her.

Trin nipped at his lips and fuck she was so much better than any of his dreams. So warm and beautiful and real. How had he ever survived with only the ghost of her touch?

"Fuck," he swore, "I really don't want to stop but…"

But they were in the infirmary, where anybody could walk in. And their crew was nothing if not nosy.

She nodded in understanding, resting her head against his.

Trin reached around for his sweater, handing it to him.

He slipped it on quickly and she held out her hand.

She had to know, he thought as he slid off the table, that he would follow her anywhere.

[thebisexualdogdad]

Something new (Fangs x Kevin x Moose x male reader)

Co written with @inhumanshadows

You and Fangs have been dating for a while now when you were transferred to Riverdale High where you met Kevin and Moose and started going out on double dates. 

You had discussions in the past with Fangs about being open to a poly relationship so when you both started having feelings for Moose and Kevin it was easy to talk to each other about it

Fangs head was in your lap as you hung out in his trailer when you brought it up to him. 

“Whatcha think Fangs? They’re both very cute...”

"You know I'm game," he responds. 

Meanwhile Kevin and Moose are having a much more awkward conversation back at Kevin's. 

"Kevin do you think Fangs and Y/N are like... Into us?" Moose questions. 

"I sure hope so why else would be friends?" Kevin says confused. 

“No I mean like into us," Moose reaffirms. 

“Moose what are we five? But maybe?” Kevin shrugs. 

"Are you okay with that?" 

"I know they're polyamorus and relationships come in all forms so why not," Kevin replies. 

The next time you guys go on a double date is when you decide to confront them. 

"So there's something Fangs and I wanted to talk to you about... We like you guys a lot and well... If you're open to it we'd like to try being more than friends," you tell them. 

Kevin and moose share a look and you're afraid you overstepped. 

“No pressure guys,” you add, "and look if this made you uncomfortable we can pretend like it never happened." 

Kevin squeezes Moose's hand and he nods. 

"I think this is something we'd like to explore," Kevin says. 

"Great," Fangs smiles. 

"And we're not just gonna jump in head first, we'll take baby steps so everyone can figure out how they feel," you assure them. 

Moose is still learning to be confident in his sexuality so adjusting to this is more of a struggle for him then it is for Kevin. 

For your first official date you invite them all over to your place for movies and pizza so they can be in a more private and relaxed environment. 

You’re laying on Fangs while Moose is leaning against Kevin with the movie playing. 

You really want it to feel natural so you don’t push, just a nice relaxing night.

The second date you get more physical gestures from them, Kevin kisses Fangs on the cheek and Moose holds your hand. 

Moose eventually falls asleep against you which Kevin teases him about later making him blush.

You decide to go on separate dates to help build your own dynamics as well, the first night Fangs goes out with Kevin and you go out with Moose, the second night you go out with Kevin and Fangs goes out with Moose

The first solo date with moose was at pops figuring a familiar setting would help his nerves.

He was quiet at first but you got him to open up and he was feeling much more comfortable by the end of the date.

You took Kevin to play mini golf so you could do something active but still be able to get to know each other better.

“So Kev... tell me about you," you say hitting the green ball with your putter down the course. 

"Well my mom has been deployed in Afghanistan for the last year and it sucks, my dad just got remarried and now i live across the hall from Josie McCoy and my ex boyfriend is in juvie... You know the usual," he says casually. 

“Wow... that’s a lot...”

“What about you?” he asks. 

“Oh I’m wanted for murder," you joke. 

“What?" He says shocked. 

“Kidding,” you tell him. 

Kevin texts Moose and makes sure it's okay for him to kiss you and that night when you take him home you kiss him goodnight for the first time. 

Later on you and Fangs are in bed talking about how each date went. 

"I think Moose is finally starting to open up," Fangs says happily. 

"That's good, Kevin and I kissed," you smiled.  

"Is he as good of a kisser as he looks," he grins. 

"Better."

“Damn,” Fangs says as you put your head on his chest. 

“I wonder what kissing moose is like?”

“He’s like a puppy," Fangs chuckles. 

"Did you kiss him?" You ask in surprise. 

"Maybe" he grins "yeah i did." 

"Fangs you sly dog," you laugh playfully hitting your hand on his shoulder. 

A few weeks later is when your relationship goes to the next level and you end up giving Kevin a handjob in your car

Kevin came hard and was worried about making a mess.

“Trust me this car has seen its share,” you laugh. 

Soon after Moose gave you a blowjob while you were watching a movie at his place

“I’m telling you Fangs those boys are huge and Moose has a very very good mouth,” you smirk.

“I heard you gave Kev a handy in your car,” Fangs 

"And when did you hear that?" 

"While Kevin was giving me one," he states. 

"That's my boy," you smile. 

"So do you think it's time to bring up trying penetration?" He asks. 

“Maybe... or at least one or two more dates,” you respond. 

“Okay.” Fangs kisses you while palming you through your pants.

"Good thing I've got you to take care of me in the mean time… what about sexting?” You ask as you straddle him.

"Take a picture and we'll find out," he grins. 

Fangs grabs his phone and snaps a picture of you on top of him still fully clothed and sends it the group chat

Kevin: “fuck!!”

Moose: “damn wish I was there”

With them being into it you go a step further, taking your shirts off and sending another pic with Fangs hands on your ass.

You unbutton fangs jeans and take a pic with your head at his crotch.

You guys then get a photo of Kevin shirtless followed by a photo Moose grabbing himself through his shorts

It’s an ongoing sexting battle until you and Fangs are naked with pillows on your crotches, Moose is in his boxers and Kevin is commando in his wrestling singlet.

You:  “reveal all at once?”

Kevin: 👍

Moose: sounds good

As soon as you send the explicit photo you get the photos of them as well which you and Fangs get off to.

You send one last photo of the aftermath and then one of you and Fangs in the shower.

“See ya tomorrow boys. ;)”

The next day at school is when Kevin and Moose both agree they are ready to go further than just a handjob so you and Fangs plan the very special night at your place that weekend.

You make sure your house is well stocked with supplies and food. 

You and Fangs are both more than happy to let Kevin and Moose take the lead and discuss safe words so they feel comfortable. 

Kevin and Moose make out first, you and Fangs watching as they work each other up.

You get behind Kevin and remove his jacket while Fangs is practically drooling.

Kevin pulls away from Moose and kisses you, Fangs beginning to palm himself through his jeans. 

Kevin runs his hand through your hair, Moose watching tentatively as you take Kevin's shirt off, yours quickly following. 

Moose undoes his jeans and starts touching himself, groaning low and deep. 

You push Kevin onto his back and kiss down his chest making him moan in time with Moose. 

“Why don’t you give Moose a hand Fangs,” you wink at him. 

Fangs kisses Moose and strokes his cock while you make your way down Kevin's body until you're tugging his remaining clothes off of him.

Kevin then tugs your pants off and gets smacked in the face by your dick.

“Sorry not sorry Keller,” you chuckle. 

Kevin takes your cock in his mouth and the sight makes Moose cum in minutes. 

"We haven't even gotten to the best part yet Mason," you mutter, moaning at the sight of his release in Fangs' hand. 

Fangs finishes getting undressed and flings his underwear at your face.

“Always a great look for you babe,” he grins. 

You laugh and toss them to the floor telling Kevin to get back on the bed while you grab the condoms and lube.

Fangs takes Moose in his mouth and bobs his head to get him hard again.

You come back and toss the condoms on the bed, shaking the lube. “Who wants to fuck me first?”

Kevin voices interest as long as Fangs is okay with it.

“Sure Kevin. But I get to prep his pretty ass.”

Fangs comes over to you and bends you over, wasting no time letting his tongue find your hole.

You’re moaning as his tongue swipes over your hole and Kevin puts your cock in his mouth. 

Once you're thoroughly worked up Kevin puts a condom on and gets behind you, easing his cock inside.

“Fuck Kevin!” His thick cock stretches you wide open. 

Kevin bottoms out and stays there, “Damn Y/N... your ass feels amazing.”

He makes a steady rhythm and Fangs starts prepping Moose.

You’re moaning with each thrust, “Oh fuck Kev.” 

Looking over you see Fangs lay on the bed and Moose sit on his face.

“Enjoy him Moose," you tell him. 

Moose quickly learns how expertly Fangs can use his tongue and reaches down to stroke Fangs' cock as he's bouncing on his face.

“Fuck Kevin... look at our boys. They’re working well together... now pound me.”

Kevin eventually makes you cum, Moose cumming for the second time. 

When Kevin pulls out of you Fangs grabs a condom and has Kevin laying on his back as he fucks him. 

You and Moose cuddle and come down from your highs while watching Fangs fucks Kevin.

“You should ride him Kev,” Moose says.

Kevin rides Fangs until he cums and after he does you jerk Fangs off until he cums too.

You put your mouth on him at the last minute and swallow just like he likes. 

You throw the condoms away, doing a quick clean up before all of you fall onto the bed.

“That was fun right?” You ask already knowing the answer. 

[quicksiilver]

In My Father’s Eyes

A new series!

Summary:  An amateur New York City artist in her freshman year of college is journeying through life alone without a mother or father.  At nineteen she’s been through more than anyone older than forty could say.  Passionate about her art and her best friend, she finds one late night at work begins the story of her path to becoming the savior of many worlds.  Unexpected news of her family strikes her hard, but a new potential love interest with shared life experience eases the pain.

Part One: The Artist

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: I’ve been writing this for some time now.. It’s not on any specific timeline, but if I had to place it it’d be as if Infinity War and Endgame never happened.  First time I’m posting a fic! Enjoy!

It was midnight on Saturday in New York City.  The bar I worked in religiously was getting ready to shut down for the night, the second bartender and my best friend Shaun and I getting started on our closing tasks.  We were on a street corner in the heart of Manhattan and we were always slammed, but tonight was unusually quiet.

Squatting down behind the bar I started stacking clean cups as Shaun wiped down the counter top.

“Pretty weird tonight, huh?” He asked.  Glancing to him and his shaggy blonde hair I nodded.

“In my years of working here I’ve never seen a night like this,” I sighed standing to my feet hurrying around the bar to turn off our lit up ‘open’ sign in the window.  Just as I got to it two men came in the door letting it violently swing shut behind them.  Slowly lowering my hand from the light switch Shaun gave me a sarcastic pout making me smile.

“Hello, gentlemen,” Shaun greeted them happily, setting up coasters in front of their chairs.  Both men had disciplined looks upon their faces as they spoke to one another.  The dark haired man with odd glasses on his face gave Shaun a subtle wave as they took off their coats and sat down.

“I’ll give you guys a minute,” Shaun nodded and took a step back.  I met him behind the bar and we both went into the kitchen.

“Just when I thought we’d be outta here kinda early tonight,” I groaned rubbing my hands over my eyes, “I’ve got such a busy day tomorrow, and it’s my only day off this week.”

“I got them, don’t worry,” Shaun shrugged his shoulders, “Why don’t you head out of here, shut off that sign and go home?” He turned to start scooping some ice into a bucket to take out to the men, and shot me a look over his shoulder raising an eyebrow.  I just watched him for a second before shaking my head.

“Are you sure?” I asked sweetly, feeling a tad guilty.

“Yeah,” He said with a smile, “I know you’ve got school stuff to deal with.  I got them,” He said again playfully, making it more clear to me.  I gave him a nod and a smile.  He returned it and then went to work taking the ice out to the guys ready to take their order.  Peeking around the corner of the kitchen I looked at the guys curiously.  They looked important and spoke secretively to one another, nearly on each others laps but not in a gay way.  One was dark and brooding, and the other seemed jockey and poised.  Neither were dressed as if they were people of importance, but they sure gave off the vibe they were.  The man in the glasses glanced up at me.  We held eye contact for only a moment before I felt a chill down my spine and the urge to turn away.  When I looked back Shaun was making their drinks and caught a look at me.

“Rachel,” He said sternly with a smile, “Go home,” He said at a whisper.  Sighing, I smiled, and uncomfortably made my way around the men at the bar to finish cleaning the place up.  I went around the place stacking the chairs on top the tables, making sure our menus were in the right places and switched off the sign in the window feeling eyes on me every now and then.  As I came around the counter for the last time so I could clock out at the monitor on the bar, I made eye contact with the other man and slightly stumbled over my feet.  He had soft eyes, and dirty blonde hair that fell perfectly on his head.  He had a polite poise to him, yet gave off a strong energy of raw man.  He was gorgeous.  His eyes were familiar, however, as if I had seen them before.  When I finished at the monitor I gave Shaun a quick hug, grabbed my keys and took myself home.

Midnight streets of the city used to scare me as a kid.  My friends used to tell me stories in school of homeless people who would turn into zombies once the clocks hit twelve, or how dangerous things get, especially once it’s dark out.  The stories would scare me so bad I ended up sleeping in my mom’s bed most of my childhood.  It was just her and I growing up, the two of us in a crappy apartment here in Manhattan.  She had me when she was young, only nineteen years old, but she made it work when she wasn’t in any trouble.  I adored her and loved her more than anything.  As a young child before I was in school we spent a lot of time outside walking the streets of the city or playing in Central Park.  Walking around the trees with flowers on them was my favorite place to be.  I can remember spring time and how we would go collect the flowers and put them around the apartment.  Sometimes we would lay down on the grass looking up into the sky and she’d pick petals off the flowers setting them on my nose or forehead.  She’d tell me stories, mainly fairytales, of far away places and magical beings.  I was obsessed with her rendition of The Little Mermaid.

She was great to me, we were best friends, but at the end of the day she was terribly messed up.  As soon as I was old enough to walk to and from school alone I would come home and she’d be passed out either on the couch or our bed.  Alcohol was her choice of poison.  The first time I found her I was seven years old.  I can remember putting a blanket on her and kissing her cheek saying goodnight as I went on to do my homework and eat Cheetos for dinner.

Around eleven it was mainly me in the apartment.  My mom went through a constant cycle of getting sober, then falling back in, then getting sober again.  I did my best to help her through it all while getting myself through middle school.  She had a job, she was a waitress at a diner for many years and it was her working there that gave me some experience for the bar.  The other women who worked there never seemed to mind if I sat there for hours waiting for my mom to finish a shift.  They would check up on me, bring me mac and cheese and sometimes desserts if I drew them a few nice pictures on the paper placemats.

When I was thirteen I started doing anything to make a buck.  Seeing an empty fridge and my mom struggling to pay our bills really forced me to grow up, fast.  I was taking out garbage for the tenants in our building for three dollars a bag, and babysitting anyone for five dollars an hour.  I tried to sell some of my moms drinks she had in our fridge, but I quickly learned that wasn’t a great idea.  I was a brand new teenager experiencing change alone when I should’ve had my mother there to help me.

By sixteen she was dragging.  It had become visibly clear to me that I no longer had a mother and that I was taking care of her instead of her taking care of me.  I got my full time job at the bar on the corner cleaning dishes, and she was stealing some of my money.  Confronting her about it was never an answer, and if I did she would break down.

I was seventeen when she died, and it broke me.  To grow up and watch someone you love fall apart in front of your eyes is something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.  Walking into your home after a night of work to your mother on your kitchen floor.  She was thirty-six.  She didn’t get to see me graduate high school, she wasn’t here to watch me get accepted into a community college here in Manhattan, and she won’t be here for anything else.

Now at nineteen, the age she had me, I work full time at the bar doing everything.  I’m in my second semester of college studying art, something I’ve always loved, and I’m keeping myself on my feet in the apartment.  I swore to myself that day two years ago that I would never pick up a drink, and that will forever be something I stand by.

Pushing the building's gate open, I fought to close it because of how rusty it was and jiggled my keys around searching for the one for the front door.  I got myself inside and then started up the stairs taking them two at a time to reach the third floor.  I could hear music coming from my neighbors and a strong smell of marijuana which never fazed me, that's been normal since I can remember.

I locked my door behind me with my key and then slid the safety lock shut.  Kicking my shoes off at the door I took a deep breath and tossed my keys onto the table by the door.  I made my way into the living room, turned on the tiny tv and then turned into the kitchen to search the fridge for something to eat.

Settling for leftover cold pasta, I tore off the lid of the Tupperware and flopped onto my ancient couch.

The New York City news was going on about its upcoming spring festivals and I couldn’t help but feel excited for them.  I normally kept to myself now, but the few friends I have were into a lot of the things I was.  Shaun, who‘s my age, goes to the same school and is an English major, and two of our other friends, Jessica and Elliot, are art majors with me.  They’re a year older than Shaun and I.  All three of them still live home with their parents, and they’re all well informed with my situation and have been nothing but supportive.  This time of year we loved going out to parks and spending time in between our classes outside.  I couldn’t wait to be out in a green, grassy area drawing one of my friends as they posed for me.

My eyes were falling in love with the shots of flowers the news was showing that when my phone rang I didn’t even look away.

“Hello?” I answered distractedly.

“Rach!” It was Shaun.

“Hey, you seem a little too happy.”

“You know those two guys?  That came in?” He spoke quickly.

“Yes,” I answered and shoved two cold noodles into my mouth.

“They were... well I’m pretty sure that they were those guys?  You know the ones that did the whole thing?” He fumbled on every last word.

“Shaun... what!” I laughed audibly, adjusting myself in my seat.

“Avengers! Rach! Avengers!” Shaun shouted and I froze.  Avengers was a word the public hadn’t heard in years, at least me since I was in school.  New York City nearly went to shit years prior, but thanks to them we managed to bounce back, and even the last time they were big in the news the city could’ve been wiped out again.  I was thankful to still have my mom around during that time, and that none of my friends' families were affected.  It still amazed me we lived in a world where these people were real.

“Shaun... what?” I repeated my words in disbelief.

“Rachel, I swear.  The guy with the short dark hair and glasses? Tony Stark.  Iron Man,” He paused and I could hear a door shut and keys jingle.  He was just now leaving the bar, “And the other guy? Captain America!” He said proud of himself.  An image of the blonde guy at the bar popped into my brain and I nearly choked on a noodle.

“You good?” Shaun asked as I coughed.

“Yeah,” I said quietly once I could speak, “I’m just... holy crap!” My stomach did a flip.  Kids in school would brag about meeting an Avenger, some would even go as far as to pretend they had powers themselves and that they were one of them.  Shaun was a huge Avengers fan.  It was never in my lucky stars to meet an Avenger and I just so happened to be in the presence of two of them tonight.

“Ya know, I knew they seemed important,” I said shaking my head looking back to my tv screen, “Did you see the way they were talking?  Do you think something is going on?” I asked Shaun who gave me a simple answer back.

“Who knows, anything could happen.”

“True, remember the attack a few years ago? Who saw that coming,” I rolled my eyes.

“I’m sure Cap did,” Shaun said confidently.  I could hear the smug smile on his face.

“Shaun, do you love the man?” I asked, both of us laughing.

“Maybe I do!” He scoffed, “Something the matter with that?”

“Not at all,” I said, “Get home safely please.  Can we talk tomorrow?”

“Of course we can,” He said.

“Okay,” I smiled then felt butterflies in my stomach once I remembered the men at the bar, “We saw Avengers!” I nearly screeched and Shaun laughed.  We cheered a bit more before saying goodnight and hanging up.

I cleaned up my spot in the living room heading into my bedroom.  Pulling my work clothes off of me, I tossed them to the floor beside a laundry basket that was nearing its limit, and walked into the bathroom meeting my reflection in the mirror.  My tired blue eyes were staring back.  Rubbing my fingers under them a few times I groaned at how dark the circles looked against my pale skin.  Turning on and leaning over the sink, I scooped some cold water in my hands and splashed it over my face looking back up into the mirror.

There was a long day ahead of me tomorrow.  Two projects are due next week by Friday and tomorrow is my only day off from working down at the bar.

I reached for a hair tie on the counter and pulled my dark hair into a bun on top of my head with a sigh.

After brushing my teeth and washing my face properly I turned back into my room, pulled a sweatshirt over my head and rolled onto my mattress burying myself in all the pillows I had come to collect over my nineteen years of life and fell asleep.

Thunder shook my apartment and I jolted awake, springing straight up in bed.  Lighting as bright as day struck the sky and soon after was another clap of dangerously loud thunder.  Muffled voices came from the living room, and after another rumble of thunder the voices turned into screams.

“Mama?” I called out, feeling my stomach start to flip.  I could hear her scream again as if she was shouting to someone else inside with her.  Swinging my legs over the side of the bed I jumped to the floor, my purple nightgown hanging below my knees.  My nails and toenails were painted pink and I had a temporary tattoo of Blues Clues on my arm.  My room continued the shake and the lightning kept striking.  I heard the wind outside pick up, the whistling coming through the windows.  Peeking out of one of them all I could see was the darkness of the sky and the tops of a few buildings, but no rain.  I wasn’t tall enough to see down to the ground yet.

“Mama?” I called out again, a bit louder this time getting closer to the closed door.

“Rachel,” She shouted, “Go to sleep!” Her voice was broken, she sounded like she was in trouble.  My stomach flipped again and I felt my heartbeat pick up.  If she was in trouble I wasn’t going to go back to sleep.  She taught me that if I was ever in trouble that I should call 911 and answer their questions.  I knew all of my information and everything about my mom.  I lifted a hand and turned the doorknob.  The phone was on the counter in the kitchen.  The bedroom door creaked open slowly and I looked out into the living room but didn’t see anything.  Taking two more steps out I found the phone on the counter with my eyes and felt proud.  I was going to make it.  As I was running for it, I looked toward the front door and saw my mom sitting on the floor against the door with her hands and legs locked up in a metal band that looked like they were shaped like snakes.  She was crying and she looked like she was hurt, she was bleeding on her face and her arms.  I slowed my running.

“Mama?” I pouted reaching a hand toward her.  The room fell silent and it seemed as if the entire world did too.  The thunder and lightning stopped, and so did the wind.  The noises that caused my mom and I to shout had all gone away.  I froze and watched her and she shook her head quickly side to side and cried.

“Rachel, go,” She begged, agony in her voice, “Go, go, go.”

“No,” A deep, gravely voice spoke.  Slowly looking beside her I found a man so tall he looked like he wouldn’t fit inside of our doorway.  It was dark so it was hard to figure out what he looked like, but it almost looked as if his skin was blue.

“Rachel,” He spoke again, coming closer to me.  My small feet walked me backwards as he came toward me, backing me against the living room wall.

“Baby, run!” My mother screamed, but before I could take off a large blue hand was grabbing onto me and picking me up.  I let out a piercing shriek at his cold touch and continued to scream the longer his icy hands held me in the air.

Suddenly I sat up in bed to the sound of my phone alarm going off beside me with a gasp.  Fumbling around for it, I shut it off and flopped back onto my pillows taking a long deep breath.  It wasn’t the first time I had dreamt something up like that.  As a kid my mother always told me how active of an imagination I had.  She influenced me to get into art by telling me to write about these dreams and draw pictures of what I saw.  There’s two notepads full of pictures of men and women like the man I just saw in that dream somewhere buried in my school things.  Elementary school teachers would scold my mom for letting me tell my stories and share with the other kids, but she allowed me to express myself and taught me to not be afraid of who I was, and I’m thankful for that because I live by it to this day.  I refuse to shrink myself for another human being which automatically didn’t make me too popular in high school.

Picking my phone up I swiped open to my messages between Shaun and I and told him about the dream.  Setting my phone back down I waited patiently for the ding and lifted it back up once I got it.

S: You haven’t had a dream like this in a few years.. right?!

I started to type a response, but he double texted me and read my mind.

R: Since my

S: Since your mom passed right?!

I deleted the words and nodded to myself.

R: Yeah.  I think it’s just me being stressed over this semester ending.

S: That seems fair enough?

R: It does.....

There was a moment before he texted back.

S: .....but?

I laughed at how well he knew me.  He knew more was coming.

R: ....but I would only dream these dreams whenever she got bad.

S: How old were you in the dream?

I paused and tried to remember the things that I saw.  The nail polish, the tattoo, the Little Mermaid nightgown.

R: Probably eight.

S: Right... and that’s when you were becoming more independent right? You were walking yourself to school and she was... starting to go through a rougher time.

R: You’re right.

A minute passed before either of us said anything.  Then we both sent a message at the same time.

R: What time do you work today?

S: You okay??

I laughed to myself and sent him a thumbs up.

S: Okay good...... and I open at 1 today.  It’s Sunday so it’s just me there.  You should swing by and hang out if you don’t work yourself too hard today!

R: Thanks Shaunyyy.  I probably will.

He sent me a heart and I smiled tossing my phone on the bed.  It was nine thirty and time for me to get started on this day.

Breakfast was the usual, an Eggos waffle in the microwave and a cup of almost burnt coffee because my pot was on the fritz.  I watched the news for a half hour to catch up on any life business I had the potential of missing, and then I showered and unpacked all of my art things on the kitchen table.  My paints were set out along with a few different sized canvases I had just bought after getting paid last Wednesday.  My two projects were simple.  One was for my color theory class, I needed to efficiently mix paint to create a proper color wheel with every color on there, and then add beside the wheel all the definitions to what each word meant.  This project being more than easy for me, I finished properly in almost an hour.  The second project, however, took me three.  It was for my regular painting class, and the assignment was to freestyle and create something that represented who we were as a person.

I scribbled for forty-five minutes on scrap paper trying to come up with a story about me and who I was and where I came from, but in the end I couldn’t see how anyone would find ‘Girl Grows Up Alone with Drunk Mother Who Dies and is Left More Alone’ interesting.  I was just another sob story everyone was tired of hearing.  I never even learned from my mother where we were from or how we ended up here.  It was just the two of us.  I never met any other family members.  I never even knew who my father was.  We never spoke about it, and I’ve kicked myself for it since she passed because I never asked her.

My eyes flickered between the blank canvas and the piece of paper I violated.  Grabbing the sheet I crumbled it in my hands, stood up from my chair and frustratedly threw the paper into the kitchen and watched as it bounced off a cabinet, onto the counter and rolled into the sink.  I got myself a glass of water and decided on a quick break to give my brain a rest.  Looking around the apartment sipping the cool water I let my mind wander.  I remembered the dream I had, and what I had said to Shaun.  It was clearly a stress dream.  Although, I thought, judging by the thoughts I had afterwards maybe it was a sign.  My mom influenced me to be an artist because of my dreams.  The dreams gave me an outlet, a different world to immerse myself in and create on a piece of paper.

I nearly dropped my glass on the floor.  Setting it down I hurried back to the table and began mixing some blue paint.  I was going to go back to my roots, where it started.  The visions that got me into art.

By the time I was finished I was more than proud.  My arms were covered in shades of white and blue, but I was happy.  My mind had traveled while I was mid-painting and the canvas turned into a world I had never seen before.  The people were from my dreams, but the world and scenery around them came from somewhere else inside of me.  It was clearly fantasy, but beautiful.

Glancing to my phone I had a missed call from Shaun from five minutes ago.  The time read two fifteen.  Wiping off what paint I could on my hands and arms, I tapped on Shaun’s name to call him back.

“Hey!” He answered at nearly a whisper seeming excited.

“Hey, I just got done,” I said slipping my shoes on, “I feel like a mess but I want to come hang out down there.”

“Uh, yeah,” Shaun said sarcastically and I laughed, “Rach, they’re back.” I paused and raised my eyebrows.

“The Avenger’s guys?” I asked, slipping on shoes.

“Mhm,” He said, “They just got here.  That’s why I called you before.  It’s just the two from last night.”

“That’s crazy,” I said, “Kinda weird.”

“Not weird for me, I’m loving this!” Shaun said. I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was cheesing behind the phone.

“Shaun, I’m sorry, but Captain America is not going to have a crush on you,” I laughed out loud grabbing my keys and leaving my apartment.

“Shut up, Rachel,” He groaned.

“I’m on my way now, and beware!” I teased, “I’m a little hangry!”

“Nacho’s coming right up,” Shaun said and I hung up with a small thank you.

[anotherashley]

The newest DH chapter HURT it the most delicious way.

The night Jonny came back late, after Pat was already in bed (not sleeping obviously, he can’t sleep when Jonny wasn’t there) got me thinking...

What if Pat was so used to being around Jonny and sleeping with him, felt so lost when they weren’t really talking. And one night Jonny still hadn’t come back by midnight and Pat just couldn’t sleep, kept tossing and turning in his own bed.

Frustrated - both by Jonny being God knows where and by his own reaction to the situation, Patrick would silently walk to Jonny’s bed. Jonny obviously wasn’t coming back tonight, probably was with some /girl/ or just someone who wasn’t Patrick - because they weren’t anything. Just buddies.

So Patrick would curl up small underneath Jonny’s duvet, the faint scent of Jonny’s bodywash surrounding him and immediately making him feel calmer and sleepier.

Just this once, Pat would sleep here. They had a big game tomorrow, Jonny would understand that Patrick needed his sleep to play well. And he wouldn’t know anyway.

But then, of course an hour or so later Jonny quietly walks into their hotel room and is confronted with the sight of Pat curled up in /his/ bed, clutching the pillow in his fist like a lifeline, snoring softly.

Confused but feeling a LOT of things, Jonny decides to just go with it and after undressing to his boxers he carefully pulls back the covers and slips behind Patrick’s body.

He gently strokes his hand through the curls at the nape of Pat’s neck, then down the heated skin of his spine. Patrick sighs in his sleep and without waking up turns over only to tuck himself close to Jonny, pushing is face into Jonny’s chest.

Flustered, afraid by what Jonny might think or say if he woke up with Pat there - or just the fact that Pat was in his bed in the first place - Pat carefully extracts himself from Jonny’s arms, gets dressed and runs downstairs to breakfast.

Jonny is left breathless, admiring the man in his arms and then tucking the sheets around both of them and falling asleep as well.

In the morning Pat wakes up before their alarms, shocked by Jonny being there - his arms around Pat where he lay on Jonny’s chest.

Jonny wakes up alone, even more confused. Draws the conclusion that Pat either regretted coming to his bed last night or that he’d somehow done it by mistake - obviously Pat regretted it if the left.

So they don’t talk about it. Or much of anything at all for a while.

oh man i love the idea of patrick wanting to be close to jonny so badly he goes and curls up in his empty bed, presses his face to jonny’s pillow and feels comforted by the lingering scent there. makes my heart all achy in the best way.

and i could definitely see how a rift would start to build if patrick had left that morning or if he hadn’t gone to jonny’s place later to apologize. how they’re both so dumb they’d just not talk about it rather than sharing their feelings bc they’d both be so afraid of getting hurt. and how that’d take them a while to work through until they found their way back to each other.

i love these long asks so much. thank you for this wonderful little slice, my friend. 💗

[xxlittle-miss-massacrexx]

Office Sex

(Ok so I haven’t written anything in a VERY long time. And I’m so sorry for gracing your screens with probably utter garbage, but my Hotch thirst is real!)

Y/N strolled into the BAU with a coffee in hand. It was late, and the only light she could see was coming from the Unit Chief’s office. Perfect, she thought to herself. She needed to speak to him anyway, and with him still being here and possibly the only one besides her, it’d give her that perfect opportunity.

This conversation needed to be private, and honestly she hoped he was in a better mood now than he had been earlier in the day. It wasn’t uncommon for him to be harsh during cases that really seemed to stress him out, but this time had been different. Whether he liked it or not, she was going to confront him about it.

With a soft but confident knock on the cracked door, she peeked around the corner to look at Hotch as he sat behind his desk.

“Y/N, what are you still doing in the office? I thought everyone went home already.”

“I just left for a coffee, I have paperwork I need to finish up and didn’t feel like going home,” She spoke, stepping more into the office to stand in front of his desk.

Hotch sat his pen down and interlaced his fingers as he watched her. “You know that could’ve been done tomorrow. Why don’t you want to go home?”

Y/N let out a sigh and brushed back her hair. “Honestly if I went home I’d drown myself in a bottle of wine that I’m not ready to open just yet. But since you’re still here, there is something I’d like to discuss,”

This peeked Hotch’s interest and he straightened more in his chair. “Very well, the floor is yours,”

Y/N released a steady breath as she took one last step toward his desk standing right across from him. “Earlier today, you sent me with Reid instead of doing what I SHOULD have done in that interrogation room. I want to know why I was punished.”

Hotch let out a sigh of his own and rubbed his fingers across his eyes. “Y/N we already discussed this didn’t we? It wasn’t a punishment, I had that interrogation under control. I needed you elsewhere.”

There it was again the same bullshit answer he had given to her after the case was resolved. She didn’t buy it then and certainly didn’t buy it now. “Why don’t we cut the bullshit out of this conversation and you tell me exactly what you’re thinking, because I know that is utter crap, with all due respect sir,” She was a bit nervous now as his hard gaze swept over her.

Hotch pushed away from his desk and stood, a hand still resting on the desk as his other parted his suit jacket to rest on his hip. “You want to know the truth, because I was trying to be nice here,”

His words caught her a little off guard. Here it goes, she just lost her job. “Yes sir I want your honesty, I know that’s just some bullshit excuse.” She kept her gaze on him as he moved around the desk to stand beside her.

“You were being reckless in that room, antagonizing him. If I wasn’t in that room, he would’ve made a move to take you and that wasn’t going to keep going on. I wasn’t going to sit there and let you put yourself in jeopardy much less irritate me.”

Y/N stared back at him, almost unsure of where to go from there. She was being reckless? Isn’t that what he had done when he turned into angry Hotch and took lead? “What was so wrong about that? We were trying to get that guy to confess. I fit the description of his victims Hotch. If I had stayed in that room we would’ve had him sooner than we did.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened the slightest as he brought a hand up to rub at his forehead in irritation. “Y/N are you trying to say I didn’t do my job correctly? Would you rather I have left the room and let him tell you all the things he would do to you before he killed you?”

And she was at a loss for words again. Why? She was never this speechless around him. They were close, closer than she was with the rest of the team. So why, when he was giving her valid reasons for sending her away, was she so speechless to apologize for acting this way with him? She lifted her gaze back to his eyes before letting out a sigh, finally able to mutter a ‘sorry’ before uncrossing her arms and reaching for her coffee that sat on his desk.

Hotch moved and grabbed her wrist stopping her in her tracks. It wasn’t often he would touch her, but when he did, her mind was always flooded with inappropriate thoughts. Her eyes met his as he closed the distance between them. “S..Sir?” She stuttered, unable to move as she looked at him.

“Y/N, today was very reckless, and I don’t want it to happen again,” He spoke, his hand still easily wrapped around her wrist. All she could do was nod as her eyes moved to look at his hand on her. Her heart was thudding away in her chest as she thought of all the possible things those hands could do to her.

“Look at me,” He spoke in a stern voice. Her eyes instantly met his and heat flooded straight to her core. God how she wanted this man, if only he knew. But before she could continue with her thoughts, her bottom was pressed to the edge of his desk and he was in front of her, his hand abandoning her wrist to hold her hips in place against the desk. Was she dreaming?

“I know this is very inappropriate of me Y/N, but I’ve been refraining from taking you for a while now, and today, today was the final blow to my resistance,” Hotch spoke, his hand pulling his tie loose as he kept her pinned against the desk. “I’m giving you one last chance to leave this office, take it now,” He paused for a moment, allowing her to leave if she wished it.

When she didn’t make a move to leave or even a stutter of a protest, Hotch moved lifting her onto the edge of the desk in a searing kiss. Y/N’s arms wrapped tightly around his neck, in an instant returning the kiss. Her mind was gone, and all that consumed her was him. Her hands moved from his neck to roam his chest, pushing at his jacket as they continued to kiss. His hands left her only for a second to throw the jacket to the floor. She took the moment to start on the buttons of her blouse, lips still connected as he laid her back onto the desk, scattering his paperwork in the process.

Hotch sat up, separating their lips to stare down at her. She was a puddle lying underneath him, her hands stopping from her blouse to reach out and touch him. His hands moved past hers, grabbing at the fabric of her shirt before ripping it open, buttons flying across the room. She could’ve came right then and there. She sure as hell wasn’t going to cry over the death of her favorite shirt right now, she would mourn later.

Hotch’s mouth latched onto her chest, sucking and biting right above her black lace bra. Her breath was ragged as she clutched at his hair, moaning out his name. “Aaron,” She bit her bottom lip, as her hands tried to reach the buttons of his shirt.

As if saying his first name did something to him, Hotch pulled back from her, yanking her skirt down her legs. The look in his eyes was clouded, lust driving him mad as he looked her over. “Y/N you’ve always been such a beautiful sight,” he spoke, starting at the buttons on his shirt quickly as he looked her over.

“Aaron, please for the love of God fuck me already,” Y/N was breathless as she watched his bare chest slowly appear to her. Hotch smirked lightly as he tugged his belt undone and let his pants fall to his ankles.

Hotch moved, lifting her slightly off the desk, one hand at her back as the other tangled into her hair, and before she could move to kiss him, he had slammed into her. Her head fell back into his hand in pure ecstasy. “Oh, fuck,” She moaned out, her hands clinging onto his shoulders as he instantly set a bruising pace into her, one of his hands gripping her hip now. She hoped he would leave a bruise there just for her to remember this by, not that she would forget.

Hotch pressed her back down onto the desk, bending her knees at his hips as he slammed deeper into her. And that change of angle was all it took for the both of them. Y/N cried out his name as she reached her peak, tightening around him and forcing him to come as well. He spilled into her, laying against her chest in a sweaty mess. They both stared at each other, regaining their breaths. Her hands swept his sweaty hair from his face and she couldn’t help but smile. “If I get this every time I misbehave, perhaps I’ll do it again tomorrow,”

Hotch let out a chuckle as his lips pressed to hers again, pulling out of her and grabbing some tissues from his desk to gently clean her up. “Get dressed, you’re coming home with me,” He spoke, bending to pull up his pants.

Y/N sat up, pulling her underwear and skirt back in place. “Well, you destroyed my favorite shirt, so what do you suggest I do sir?” She questioned, looking at her destroyed shirt as it laid on the ground.

Hotch smirked as he bent and picked it up looking at the mess he had made of it. “Sorry, I’ll replace it,” He spoke, tossing his suit jacket around her shoulder and clipping the buttons to hide her body from the cameras in the hall.

Hotch smirked as he bent and picked it up looking at the mess he had made of it. “Sorry, I’ll replace it,” He spoke, tossing his suit jacket around her shoulder and clipping the buttons to hide her body from the cameras in the hall.

Y/N smirked and hopped off his desk, grabbing her heels that had fallen off during their heated activities. “Oh and, we’re definitely using your office again,” She spoke, looking back at him as she reached his office door.

Hotch laughed, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes, “I was going to say the same thing to you,” He spoke, moving a hand to her back as they left his office and went home to share a bed.

[adarlingwrites]

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who's willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

XXI

January 5, 2278.

Fifteen minutes past midnight, we went home. After cleaning up and sharing a dinner of noodles and beer, Percy didn’t waste any time counting all the ammo she saved for emergencies, while I tended to our weapons and gear. Around three in the morning, I was ready to retire, but Percy’s still slouched over the workbench, recycling old microfusion cells as she sipped on scotch, straight from the bottle.

“Percy,” I call her attention, placing a hand at her shoulder.

“Oh!”

I must’ve interrupted her.

“What do you need, big guy?”

“I suggest that you get some rest. Long day tomorrow.”

“Mhmm. Just a few more minutes,” she replies, back still turned against me.

I was ready to get to my room, but then Percy leans her head against my chest. “Charon, what if I die from this?”

My throat tightens at the thought, and I place both hands on her shoulders, giving them a squeeze. “You’re not going to. I’m here to ensure that.”

“Thanks. But let’s say I do. What will happen to you, when your contract holder dies?”

I pause. I let my hands fall to my side. My friend turns around and looks up to me, her glasses cloudy from the cold.

I’m debating myself on whether this should be her business or not. I’ve seen parts of her that shouldn’t be for my eyes. Percy had let me see her at her most vulnerable moments, while she only shows her can-do attitude to everyone else. And yet, she knows so little about me. I think I’m being unfair.

Dammit. This is what I fucking get for letting what I feel about my employers get to me, regardless whether it’s positive or not.

I shouldn’t be divulging information to my employers more than what’s necessary, but when I look at my friend before me, I feel an urge to share the parts of myself I couldn’t even confront.

“Back then, the death of whoever held it meant failure to obey the standing order to protect that person, and would result in my termination as well. But something has changed along the way. The day the bombs fell, we were ordered to hold our contracts, and wait until someone comes to claim it. They never came.”

Percy nods her head, motioning me to continue. I start to pace around, struggling to remember the details after that.

“I… I wandered aimlessly for I don’t know how long. I was dying, lost in a desert when a group of survivors found me. They found my contract, and when I came to, the conditioning kicked in. I will serve them, and will continue to do so until I fail. When I do, the order to hold my contract until someone claims it takes effect again.”

Her brows knitted together, mouth curled into a frown. There’s a sadness in her eyes. She’s pitying me again.

Not pity. I don’t need that.

“You don’t need to pity me,” I said, and her eyes grew wide in surprise.

“I’m not- I don’t pity you, Charon. I’m just trying to imagine what you’ve gone through, and I can’t fathom how terrible that must be.”

“It’s better that you don’t.”

Arms wrapped around my waist from behind, and I freeze in my tracks. Percy’s soft and warm, and she presses against my back. I can feel the tightness in my chest melting away.

“I want to understand you better,” she whispers.

I should be keeping my distance after our talk about our professional relationship in Doc Barrows’ clinic. Instead, I turn around and pull her in an embrace, pressing her face against my chest as gently as possible. I’m not a gentle person, but for this angel, I can try.

Damn, can we stay like this forever?

“Let’s get some rest,” I tell her, and let her go, dragging my feet to my quarters.

“Do you want to sleep next to me again?” Percy asks.

I felt my heart starting to race.

For someone who said that I shouldn’t act on what I feel for her, she’s giving me a lot of mixed signals. I don’t know what to do with them. What does she even want?

One day I’ll get the courage to ask her that to her face, but for now, I just shook my head.

“I wish to be alone with my thoughts,” I tell her, and she nods.

She smiles, but the slump in her shoulders tells me about her dejection.

“Okay. Offer still stands. Good night.”

I couldn’t sleep after that.

Lying on a mattress wasn’t as comforting as it used to be. Or maybe it’s because there isn’t the warm weight of another person next to me.

Fuck.

I’ve gone soft.

I heard a soft sigh through the thin walls of the house, and I was ready to get up and comfort Percy, thinking she was crying again. But I heard her keen and moan, and I lay like a rock in my spot.

Like I said, the walls are thin. This isn’t the first time I can hear her touching herself. I understand that she has her needs; the skin mags she looks out for says enough. It’s not my business.

I’d be lying if I said that the sounds she makes didn’t fuel my imagination for months.

Tossing and turning, I took a ratty blanket and pulled it over my head, intending to block the noise out, and screwed my eyes shut. I hate this feeling. I’ve never felt it before I met this woman. All this… longing.

My eyes shot open when I heard her sigh my name.

So that confirms it.

But, why me?

The previous employers that had used me for pleasure are the unsavory, depraved types. They would never look me in the eye. They’d say degrading shit. They never said my name.

Percy is not one of those. She’s the fucking “Wasteland Avenger” or “Wasteland Angel” or “Savior of the Wastes” or whatever damn epithet people want to give her. People look up to her.

For those reasons, hearing her moan my name feels forbidden.

Her invitation to sleep next to her is becoming more tempting. I know it’s not an invitation to be intimate with her, but the past few weeks have been shit. I want something to go right just for damn once.

I heard her gasp my name again and I took it as my cue.

My feet took me to her room as fast as it could. It was dark, save for the sliver of moonlight that seeped through the roof.

“Percy, you called for me?” I ask her.

I hear frantic shifting of fabric, clattering, and her PipBoy light goes off.

“Charon! I uh… um, I thought you were already asleep I- did you…”

I take cautious steps towards the bed, and sit on the edge, the rickety frame creaking under my weight.

“How much did you hear?” she asks me, near whispering.

“Everything,” I said, telling her the truth.

“Wait, all this time you’ve been hearing me- oh God.”

“Yes,” I murmured. “I didn’t mean to. The walls are thin.”

Percy rubs her face, then she squints, reaching for her glasses. She takes a long, hard look at me. Neither of us are breaking the silence; this angel is within my reach and yet she feels so distant.

Finally, she speaks up. “God, this is awkward. Can we pretend none of this ever happened?”

I gulped. I don’t want to.

“No,” I assert, looking her in the eye and holding her gaze. My friend tears her eyes away from me and rubs the back of her neck.

“I guess there’s no point hiding it. I think you’re attractive, Charon.”

My breath hitches at my throat and it comes out as a disbelieving laugh. “Crazy smoothskin.”

Percy chuckles at my remark. 

“What now?” she asks me.

My eyes flick to her lips, to her pale throat, down to the her nipples poking from under her shirt. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to ask her to join me in acting on the dirtiest thoughts I had for her, but the rational part of my mind holds.

“How long?” I dared to ask her.

“I’m not sure. I know I felt something the first time I bumped into you in Underworld. But I haven’t really thought about it until around November. What about you? When did it start?”

“When you walked into Underworld with that stupidly tight stealth armor. I couldn’t stop staring at your ass.”

Percy snorted. “Really?”

I couldn’t help but laugh at myself quietly too.

“What the hell did you find attractive about me?” I ask her, still in disbelief at my damn luck.

“Well… there’s just something about the way you carry yourself I guess?”

I raise a brow in response.

“Your bone structure. You look strong and steady and I like that.”

Now I’m tilting my head and smirking.

“And you’re gruff and scary and intimidating and I find it hot,” she blurts out.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “So you find any tall, scary ghoul you find intimidating hot?”

“God, no. Just you. Always been you.”

The sincerity of her words is too much.

All those months of letting me act on my own accord is starting to kick in. I reach for her face, my rough, radiation-damaged fingers caressing her soft cheek, and she leans into the touch. I dared to press my thumb against her bottom lip, savoring its texture, imagining what it would feel against mine. As gently as I could, I tilt her head, pressed my cheek against her neck, and took a deep breath as her small hands flew to my shoulders, squeezing and kneading the tense muscles.

I press my mouth against her neck and she pushes me away.

“Stop. We should stop. You and I both know acting on what we feel now would screw things up,” she interrupts, somber.

I exhaled sharply, nodding and keeping my distance. “Fine. Then please stop giving me hope.”

“What?”

“This. Touching me, asking me to sleep next to you… I’m starting to think you’re leading me on.”

Percy scoffs at my accusation, crossing her arms.

“I’m not!” Percy exclaims. “I’m just saying that it isn’t a possibility now. Right now, I’m your doctor and employer. It would make our relationship unequal.”

“And I am centuries older than you,” I hissed back at her. “There are people who would consider that astoundingly unequal too.”

“Then that makes it twice as wrong! This isn’t multiplication where you take two negatives and it becomes a positive.”

“I have no idea what the hell you just said,” I snarled. “But what I know is I want you. So don’t give me hope unless you’re going to follow through. Please.”

Percy went quiet, still as a statue where she sits. With wide eyes, she gazes into mine.

“Say that again?” she demands.

“Say what again?”

“You said, ‘I want you’. You… you rarely tell me what you want.”

Oh.

“God, Charon I want you too…” Percy starts, moving to the edge of the bed to sit next to me.

“Fuck whatever the hell people say, you should know by now that I’ll defend you against all the fucking ghoul bigots in the world,” she continues, leaning her head against my bare shoulder.

“Weeks ago I would’ve agreed to this, but things have gotten too crazy. From your contract, to dad dying, to getting jumped by those Talon mercs, to the shit we’re planning for Paradise Falls, to Project fucking Purity… There's too much going on. I don’t want to compromise our objectives because of what I feel.”

“I understand.” My heart’s going to fucking burst from my chest.

“I’m not going to be upset if you don’t want to do this anymore when it’s all over. But, please, could we wait?”

I’d wait forever for her, if I can. I’ve waited two centuries for someone like her without even knowing that I needed it. I’m not sure if what I’m feeling is plain lust or something more, but I need her.

“Yes.”

“Thank you. I don’t want to ruin what I have with you now.”

“What do we have now, Percy?” I ask her.

“I’m not sure. But I told you that I want to be your partner, right? Let’s work on that.”

Grunting in response, I slouch, resting my elbows on my knees. After a few moments, I turned to her again.

“May I still sleep next to you?”

My partner laughs softly, and moves back to her spot on the bed. Her small hand pats the mattress, on the empty space next to her.

“Of course.”

Back turned from each other, she falls asleep first. I could tell from her soft snores.

An hour later, I still couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about the things she said.

I lie facing the door out of habit. During the training I was forced to take part in, it was drilled in our heads, making us better prepared for intruders and ambushes. 

Close to sleep, I was alerted by a soft whimper coming from her.

When I turned to look at her, her brows are furrowed and her eyes are screwed shut.

“No,” she murmurs, and I listen closely. “Get away from him… Don’t hurt Charon.”

She’s having a nightmare. About me getting hurt.

Grumbling, I shifted my body so that her back was pressed to my chest, and I draped an arm around her.

“Shh. I’m here, and we’re okay,” I whisper.

Percy’s whimpers die down to sighs, and we remain like that for more than a few minutes. I felt dirty, watching her sleep, but seeing her strained face relax eases my nerves.

At some point, I fell asleep. It was a dreamless one.

The next morning, I woke up slowly, eyes adjusting to the brighter rays that came through the cracks on the roof.

A leg is draped over my hip, her face pressed against my chest, and an arm around my waist.

To my surprise, Percy is still asleep next to me. It’s a rare occurence for me to rise earlier than she does.

I look at her PipBoy in the open drawer next to us. Ten fifty two in the morning.

We were supposed to be up by nine.

My hand on her shoulder, I give her a shake. “Percy, wake up.”

My friend stirs awake, stretching her limbs. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost eleven.”

Percy practically jumps out of bed.

“Oh fuck! C’mon, let’s get ready.”

I went to my room. I put on the black shirt Percy gave me, the sleeves already torn away, and proceeded to put on the rest of my armor. As I was walking through the door, I saw the ushanka on the bed side table, and grabbed that too.

Time to talk to Church.

[ecfandom]

ok let's see: big city lawyer return to her small town at christmas time to stop some corporate closure and magically fall in love with some woman and her dog

Ah, I love it! This totally got away from me. I’ll do more tomorrow!

***

Okay so Clarke is the youngest partner at Azgeda & Weather, a NYC corporate law firm that handles all the big Fortune 500 companies along the eastern seaboard. Being the youngest partner at the firm means two things: Clarke takes no prisonrs, and the law firm is her life. We’re talking breakfast, lunch and dinner at her desk (a large desk in a large corner office on the top floor, there’s not a lot to complain about honestly), a second wardrobe in the sleek, modern armoir in her office, sheets and pillow tucked under the stylish but massively uncomfortable couch. She has a nice apartment that she’s spending a fortune but there’s no telling why seeing as how she’s never there. 

She’s got a good routine. Up at 4:30 every morning, to the gym for a good “sweat out your rage at the world” session, steaming steaming shower so hot it almost hurts, she dawns her impeccable outfit including her signature pencil skirt which costs more than most people’s monthly rent, then it’s off for her morning juice cleanse and back to the office for her 8am briefing. It’s practiced, its perfected, it’s...necessary. If her day is not scheduled down to the minuted, if she’s not busy, thinking, always occupied...that’s disastrous. That means thinking about all the things she doesn’t want to think about...like how lonely she is, how much her heart still aches from the day her entire life crumbled into a million pieces...

So you can imagine how furious she is when her boss pulls her into his office and tells her to pack her bags, she’ll be spending her Christmas holiday overseeing the closing of the factory at the heart of a small town named, Arkadia...HER small town named Arkadia. 

“This is a joke, right?” She asks, actually laughing in his face. But he doesn’t smile, doesn’t blink in fact, and her heart sinks. It’s not a joke and she’s expected at the airport at 7am the following morning. 

Meanwhile, in that little town across the country, residents are in a full blown panic. The factory in town was just bought out by a big corporation and all operations are shutting down. Of course, this factory employs 95% of the town and these works will have no where to go, no job, and essentially no severance just weeks before Christmas.

The day her aging father comes home and tells his daughter with tears in his eyes that he’s out of the job is the day coffee shop owner, Lexa’s, famous smile falters. Her little shop lies in the heart of the town and sees just about every town member pass through at some point during the week. Lexa’s drinks are dreamy and her shop is warm and cozy. It’s a safe haven and though she’d never acknowledge it, if you asked any neighbor, they’d tell you that the magic has nothing to do with the shop, it’s all Lexa. She’s always got an ear to lend and the fluffy golden retriever that’s always by her side never fails to bring a smile to everyone’s faces. Except this week. This week, the whole town is grieving. 

“I don’t understand how they think they can just come in here and unemploy an entire town of people and get away with it.” Anya, Lexa’s barista and long-time friend, looks scary, and puts on a good show of being tough, but she’s a big softy. But this week, Lexa genuine worries about the safety of her mugs as Anya roughly towels them dry, scowling at the black town car that pulls up outside, clearly from out of town. “How do they fucking sleep at night.” 

“They don’t sleep,” Lexa says. “These are the kinds of people with no lives, no friends, and no conscious.” 

Anya whistles quietly. “They may not have a conscious, but they certainly have something to look at.” 

When Lexa looks up she’s definitely taken by surprise. The beautiful woman walking through the door is nothing like she expected. Strikingly blonde is the only thing that grabs her attention before the sweetness of her face. But that sweetness is impressively overshadowed by the coolness in the woman’s pale, blue eyes the second they connect with Lexa’s. 

Before Lexa can even open her mouth to tell her they’re about to close, the woman is holding up her hand. “Please, before you tell me all the ways in which I am ruining your life and killing your beloved pet, I just need some fucking coffee,” she huffs, not bothering to look at Lexa as she digs through her purse. 

“What a surprise, she’s a raging bitch,” Anya quips, tossing her towel on the counter and walking away when the woman looks up at her and glares. “Sorry, Lex. I’m not serving the wicked witch of the east.”

“Pretty sure it’s wicked witch of the west,” the woman snaps back.

“You’re from the east aren’t you? I rest my case,” Anya says, then looks at Lexa. “You can fire me if you want, but I won’t serve her kind. You’re on your own.” 

“My kind?” The woman mouths, outraged.

Lexa’s shakes her head and grins at her friend’s antics. She’s no happier about these outsiders than the rest of the town, but a customer is a customer. “What can I get you?” She asks, barely taking notice when her trusty pup, Max, gets up from his bed and pads away from her. 

Clarke is momentarily caught off guard by the gentle tone, expecting more of the nastiness she’d been encountering since she landed in the tiny, regional airport. No one recognizes her or if they do, they don’t care that she used to be one of them. Why should they? It’s been 20 years.

Even more startling than the gentle tone is the woman behind it. She’s tall and sturdy, just as handsome as she is pretty. The picture perfect red flannel she wears stretches perfectly along her broad shoulders and she is perhaps the most attractive woman Clarke has ever seen. Not what she was expecting from the tiny town she hoped to never see again.

She’s never one for a loss of words--she’s an attorney for christ’s sake--but this woman has Clarke tongue tied like never before. It takes three attempts for her to order her coffee, granted, the second time was interrupted by a cold wet nose pushing into her hand. Now, sitting at the table in the nearly empty cafe, Clarke can’t stop watching the woman behind the counter. She’s beautiful, in an androgynous sort of way. Sure, she had long, brown hair and pretty green eyes, but there’s was something masculine about her. Something rugged. Whatever it was, Clarke was mesmerized. 

They part ways with little conversation. After all, Clarke is here to ruin all of their lives, and Lexa has to get home to her newly unemployed father who can’t pay for his medical bills without a job, so there’s that. 

They don’t run in to each other again for a day or so, and Lexa can almost forget about her life derailing...until the day she’s in the local bar and she hears an argument break out. Getting up, she moves down the bar to get a better look. A lifetime ago, she was a Marine, and she can’t help but run toward trouble, as her father would always say. 

She’s expecting the usual brawl over a drinking contest or a lost bet, but instead, she finds a few out of place suits almost completely surrounded by a ring of angry factory workers. “Call the police,” she tells Frank, the bartender, knowing what’s about to come. She’s concerned, but not too concerned. There’s still time to de-escelate things with some open conversation, so she moves carefully, cautiously, edging her way into the circle. That is until she sees the woman from from the other night, face scared like a dear in headlights but eyes glinting, ready for a fight. 

Lexa’s unsure of whether she’s more scared for the woman or annoyed. Whoever she is, she’s not afraid to back down, that’s obvious, and that means trouble. And trouble for her, in this town, could very well end in blood. At the head of the confrontation is Sal, a fourth generation factory worker taking the closure the hardest. He’s been stirring up the town for weeks, just waiting for a battle. Lexa is angry like the rest of them but she’s sure as hell not going to let blood be spilled. She’s almost too slow. One moment, she’s telling Sal to back off, the next, a broken beer bottle is hurtling towards the men in suits. In seconds, the two groups converge on each other, and Lexa has just enough time to grab the woman’s arm and yank her out of the middle. Lexa practically picks her up and carries her out the front door just as the police are rushing in. 

Clarke is struggling the entire way, cursing about god knows what under her breath. 

“You’re welcome,” Lexa retorts, dropping the woman into a pile of fresh snow. “Next time I’ll try not to save your life.” 

“Oh don’t be dramatic. I was fine.” 

“You were seconds away from getting the business end of a broken beer bottle shoved into your face. But suit yourself.” 

Lexa’s beginning to walk away when Clarke comes to her senses and goes after her, begrudgingly thanking her. 

“I’m Lexa.” 

“I’m Clarke.” There’s a handshake, and somehow it almost feels like a temporary truce. That and Lexa’s hand is warm and strong and firm. 

For the next several days Lexa can’t shake the fact that she’s a traitor. She can’t get Clarke off her mind and while everyone else is cursing she and her colleague’s existence, Lexa is just hoping to run into her again. Just to get another look at those eyes. There’s something buried there, something Clarke has gotten really good at hiding, and Lexa wants in. 

The next time she sees Clarke, the woman is rushing down the street, a small group of angry residents shouting at her. Lexa sees her coming from the shop window and steps out to pull Clarke inside, just as the group was beginning to converge on her. Clarke makes some quip, laughing it off, but she’s clearly shaken and Lexa has an inexplicable need to protect her. 

She’s in the back making a special drink of cinnamon, nutmeg, and cherries to warm Clarke up, and when she comes back around to the tables, she smiles to see Clarke asleep in a booth, leaning against the wall, Max sitting protectively beside her. 

“Good boy,” she murmurs, patting his head. Clarke rouses and Lexa slides into the opposite booth, watching with a little bit of pride and a lot of sexual attraction as Clarke moaned her delight and thanks at the delicious drink. Lexa tries her best not to blush at Clarke’s sounds of pleasure, but she’s really never been good at hiding her feelings. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Clarke asks. 

“You’re just making a lot of noises.” 

“Noises?” 

“The...moans...and...you know what? Nevermind. Just drink your drink.” 

Clarke smiles like she knows exactly what she’s doing, and she knows flirting with a local is the last thing she should be doing, but Lexa has saved her life now, and she’s handsome and kind and her dog is cute, and Clarke really can’t help it. 

They do this again, the next day, just as the shop is closing. Clarke stays after the doors are locked and they talk for hours. Mostly Lexa talks, and Clarke skirts around her own life with half truths and questions about Lexa. They do it again and again, until it’s almost a routine. 

“Why are you letting this happen?” Lexa finally asks her one day. “You’re not a bad person. You have to do know what this is doing to our town. You may not understand, being from a big city and all, but we’re family.” 

Oh but Clarke does know. She knows because she grew up here. She knows this town better than Lexa does, but she’ll never tell. She can’t revisit those memories. She can’t think about the past. Not without losing the control she has spent her entire life building. She can’t let Lexa into that part of her life, but that doesn’t stop her from falling for the sweet drinks and the even sweeter drink maker. She gives the cowardly answer about her job, her duty, nothing she can do about it, and Lexa just nods because what else is there to say? 

If Lexa is annoyed by her answer, she doesn’t show it. They continue to spend time together and the more they are seen with each other, the more the residents start to relax around Clarke. Some of them even like her, chatting her up when they see her in the cafe. Some of them look at her as if she belongs, as if she’s always belonged, as if they’ve known her from some other lifetime. 

Things feel good. Suspiciously good but Clarke does her best to just let live. Lexa is walking her back to her car one night when they pass the ice skating rink in the town square. 

“Don’t even think about it,” she says when Lexa turns to her with a glint in her eyes. 

Lexa wins, and she’s holding Clarke’s hands, skating backwards to help keep Clarke upright. They can’t stop giggling and it feels like grade school when everything was okay and good and nothing hurt. 

Clarke trips over her own feet and she tumbles into Lexa, laughing. Lexa is strong and sturdy and when Lexa catches her and pulls her close, Clarke is a goner. Looking up into those green eyes, it takes second for her to lean in, looking for a kiss. She’s not even thinking, she’s just wanting. Wanting Lexa. Wanting her close. Wanting to know if her lips are as soft as they look. 

They are. God, they are and it’s perfect. Lexa’s perfect. They’re in the middle of the rink, forcing people to skate around them, but Clarke can’t stop kissing her, and Lexa has no interest in pulling away. 

It’s feels natural, it’s feels right and wonderful and so so good when they go home together that night. It’s been so long since Clarke has opened her heart to anyone, and now that she’s opened it for Lexa, Lexa has it completely. 

Lexa brings her coffee and a croissant in bed, crawling back under the covers to love up on Clarke again as soon as she’s done with her breakfast. It’s noon before they finally get out of the door. Clarke has a meeting and Lexa has to get to the shop. They’re walking together to Clarke’s car, and Lexa’s leaning in for a kiss when Clarke sees a man glaring at them from across the street.

It throws Clarke back into her past so quickly she jerks away from Lexa, dodging a kiss, and getting in her car and driving away without a word. The radio silence last days and Lexa is as pissed as she is heartbroken. They run into each other at a press conference the corporation who bought out the factory holds to inform the residents about the planned demolition. 

Lexa can’t hold back her pain and anger. “I thought you were different from them, but you’re not, are you? You used me. You got me and the town to like you so that what? You’d be left alone long enough to help them destroy us? Is that it? Make me fall for you so I’d let my guard down? Let you get away with this? I feel bad for you, Clarke. I feel bad that you don’t know what it’s like to have a community like this. To have friends and family for neighbors. People you’ve grown up with and lived beside and I pity you.” She’s too angry to realize that she’s admitted to falling for Clarke and she doesn’t give Clarke the chance to say anything before she’s walking away. 

Just days away from the demolition, they’re both miserable. They haven’t talked and when Clarke goes to try to see Lexa to tell her she’s going to make things right because she’s fallen for her to, she can’t be found. She thinks she’s being avoided until she overhears a patron talking about Lexa’s father being in the hospital. Clarke doesn’t think, she just goes. It’s not hard to find out that Lexa’s father got pretty sick and racked up some pretty hefty medical bills that Lexa’s now on the hook for thanks to her father’s unemployment making it impossible to pay for his shitty insurance’s deductible. 

Clarke does the one thing she can think to do to help but she doesn’t dare go to Lexa. Now’s not the time and she knows she’s the last person Lexa wants to see. 

Lexa, of course, is completely at a loss. Her father is still sick and needs to stay at the hospital, but the longer he stays, the bigger the bill gets. She’s distraught and out of options, so imagine her surprise the day she’s informed that her father’s deductible has been paid and his treatments not covered by insurance have been paid for. They can’t tell her who paid it for confidentiality reasons and Lexa doesn’t have time to think too much about it. She has to get her father taken care of and she has to get back to the shop.

Things are starting to feel okay again, except for the fact that she can’t stop thinking about Clarke. The only thing that makes it a little more bearable is the news that the demolition has been paused. Some kind of red tape fiasco. The town makes a collective sigh of relief as the corporate giant loostens it’s grip around their necks. Clarke is nowhere to be found, but Lexa wonders what this means for her. She’s too pissed by Clarke’s disappearance to find out. 

Meanwhile, Clarke is back in NYC, sitting in her office while she is screamed at for pointing out the anti-trust issues with this corporation buying up the factory, creating a monopoly. 

“If the DOJ blocks this acquisition because YOU brought this contract to them, this will be the end of our relationship with Dante Corp! Do you have any idea the money you have cost us?!” 

But Clarke’s not listening. She didn’t care about her job. She didn’t care about the money. She cared for the people of the town. She cared for Lexa’s father. She cared for Lexa and she had to make things right.

A month passes and the entire town is elated when they learn that factory is no longer being bought and demolished and everyone has their jobs back. Someone is still paying off Lexa’s father’s medical bills, beating Lexa to it every time Lexa calls to make her own payment. Her father is back on his feet again and the everything is back to normal. Everything is good. Except it isn’t, because Lexa’s heart is broken and she can’t comprehend how someone as incredible as Clarke could be so selfish. 

She’s tired and feeling particularly down the night she walks into the bar after work and sees that radiant blonde hair at the end of the bar. She doesn’t want to believe it, but when Clarke turns and their eyes meet, Lexa’s breath leaves her and she feels everything all at once. Sadness, elation, betrayal..love. Through it all, it’s still love. 

“Hey,” she says softly, cautiously sitting down beside her. The bar is quiet tonight, but the other patrons are too absorbed in their own conversations to pay them any attention. 

“Hi,” Clarke says, studying the beautiful face that hadn’t left her thoughts for one second since she’d left. 

“I suppose you heard about the factory?” 

Clarke nods, smiling slightly. “I’m so happy for you.” 

“Guess you got unlucky.” 

“How do you figure?” 

“Well, whoever made that contract fall through cost you this client, I imagine.” 

When Clarke doesn’t say anything, Lexa frowns. “What am I missing?” 

Clarke pulls out a trifold of paper and slides it over to Lexa. Lexa picks it up and squints at it. “What is this?” 

“It’s anti-trust suit.” 

“I...I don’t understand.” 

“Magnus Unites, the company that bought Arkadia Beverage Company, which is the company that owns the factory, doesn’t exist and neither does Arkadia Beverage Company.” 

Lexa shakes her head, trying to follow along, but not understanding. “That doesn’t make any sense. What does that mean?” 

“It’s means that Magnus Unites and Arkadia Beverage Company are shell companies. They’re not real. Magnus Corp is actually just Dante Corp and Arkadia Beverage Company was bought out five years ago by Atlantic Foods.

“Dante Corp? As in the Dante Corp that owns practically every product you see in a grocery store?” 

“Yes, exactly.” 

“Okay. So?” 

“So, Dante Corp and Atlantic Foods are the two largest food and beverage packaging companies in the United States. Atlantic Foods is worth 83.7 million dollars. If Dante Corp had bought out Atlantic Foods through this shell company, they would own a complete monopoly on the food packaging industry. It’s illegal.” 

“Holy shit,” Lexa breathes, looking back at the paper. “So someone found out and what? Told?” 

Clarke chuckles. “Yeah. You could say that. This is an anti-trust suit submitted to the Department of Justice. An immediate injunction was ordered and the factory was returned to the previous owners of Arkadia Beverage.” 

“Wow. That’s an incredible.”

Clarke watches her, so fond of the studious, careful way Lexa studied something important. When Lexa looks up, she’s almost startled by the emerald green she had missed you very much. 

“Why do you have this?” 

“You told me I didn’t know what it was like to know a community like this. To live side by side with friends and family.” Clarke pulls out an old, worn picture from her purse and slides it towards Lexa. 

Lexa looks down at young Clarke, beaming between two people she could only assume were her parents. Behind them stood a building Lexa knew like the back of her hand.

“That’s my shop,” she murmurs, looking at Clarke confused. 

“When I lived here, it was a pizza parlor,” Clarke murmurs. 

Lexa nods. “The kitchen still smells like pepperoni.”  Clarke laughs and nods, and Lexa nearly jumps up at the sight of tears in Clarke’s eyes. “Clarke?” 

“Those are my parents,” Clarke says, looking down at the photo. “We had pizza night every Friday at that parlor. It was something we’d done for as long as I can remember.” Clarke uses her pointer finger to drag the photo closer to her. “They died,” she murmurs, her voice taught with restrained tears. “Drunk driver. The cameras caught him clearly...but the prosecuting attorney was paid off. He didn’t see a single day of jail time. I was twelve.” 

“Clarke, god, I’m so sorry.” 

Clarke looks up, blinking back tears. “This was my home. These people were my home. And having this community was the only thing that got me through. When I left, the only thing I could think about was going to law school and making sure what happened to me never happened to anyone else. Somewhere along the way I fell into corporate law, and I forgot why I was even doing this. Family and friends are everything.” She shrugs. “I had to make it right. For them.” Then, she looks up at Lexa, her eyes earnest and sorry. “For you.” 

Lexa swallows back her own emotions. “Why did you leave back then?” 

Clarke laughs bitterly. “After my parent’s died I lived with my neighbors for a while. They had a daughter my age and we were best friends. Eventually, we were more than friends. On my thirteenth birthday, we were at park watching a meteor shower. She told me she wanted to kiss me and I let her. I was over the moon. There had been so much pain since my parents dies, and here was this perfect, little moment, to distract me for a little while. The next thing I know, some man is running towards us, shouting at us, asking us how dare we do such things in public. It’s a small town. Word travels fast. When her parent’s found out, they kicked me out. And I never came back.” 

Lexa wants nothing more than to pull her into her arms and hold her, never letting her go, but Clarke is already sliding off the bar stool and putting the paper and photo back into her purse. 

“I’m sorry I ran on you, and I’m sorry I left without saying good bye. You didn’t deserve that. And I’m not here for forgiveness. I just wanted you to know that nothing between us was ever fake. I never had ulterior motives or...nefarious plans. I never planned for you. But there you were, and I couldn’t help it. It was just you. It was only every you.”

“Clarke, I--” 

But the door to the bar swings open and a rowdy crowd tumbles in from the snow storm. Lexa looks up at the commotion, feels herself get jostled as people push towards the empty bar stools. When she looks around, Clarke is gone. She goes to find her and steps on a piece of paper on the floor. 

She picks it up and unfolds it, confused at first at what she’s looking at. It’s a medical bill. With her father’s name on it. No, not a bill. A receipt. A receipt for a recent payment for the last installment of her father’s payment plan on his medical expenses. And under the payer’s information...is Clarke’s name. 

“Oh, Clarke,” Lexa murmurs, her eyes brimming. She runs out of the bar, but Clarke is nowhere to be found. 

***

Clarke is just settling onto her couch having dawned her paid, flannel pajamas and whipped up a big bowl of drown your sorrows flavored ice cream. The best part of losing her job is that she finally gets to enjoy her fancy apartment with the best view of the city she’s ever seen. She plans to wallow in her big fancy apartment and watch RomComs until she can’t keep her eyes open anymore because she’s sick of being alone with her thoughts. 

She’s contemplating adding in a bath to this plan when there’s a knock at her door. She frowns, but is not entirely sure that she didn’t forget that she ordered delivery, so she goes to the door anyways. For all the fancy features of her apartment, there is no peep hole and she is too depressed bother for any self preservation. She opens the door, ready either to accept her forgotten order or yell at the solicitor knocking on her door at 9 o’clock at night. 

But it’s not delivery and it’s not a solicitor. It’s Lexa. Lexa with those sweet eyes and gentle smile. Lexa with a piece of paper in one hand and roses in another. 

“Oh god,” is all Clarke manages to get out before she’s crying. 

She cries harder when she feels Lexa’s arms around her, holding her close. “I’m so sorry,” Clarke says, and neither of them are sure what she’s sorry for. Clarke is just so damn thankful to see her. 

Lexa holds her and presses kisses to Clarke’s hair until she calms, then she pulls back and brushes away Clarke’s tears from her cheeks.

“How did you know where I live?” Clarke asks, sniffling and leaning into Lexa’s sure body. 

Lexa holds up the medical bill receipt and Clarke colors, finally caught. 

“You should have told me,” Lexa says gently, so incredibly in love with the teary-eyed woman in front of her. “This was too much, Clarke.” 

Clarke shakes her head. “It was the least I could do.” 

“I don’t know how to thank you.” 

Clarke’s eyes brim again and she shrugs, shyly. “I don’t need any thanks, Lex. I did it because...I love you.” 

Lexa grins and puts the receipt aside, taking Clarke’s face into her hands. “You have no idea how much I love you,” she says and captures Clarke’s lips. Lexa could kiss her forever, but Clarke can’t stop smiling and of course that makes Lexa laugh. 

They pull away, but keep each other close. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one who’s supposed to bring you flowers,” Clarke says, gesturing to the roses Lexa had put down on the table inside the door. 

“Why’s that?” 

“I’m the one who messed up.” 

Lexa shakes her head. “I let you walk away from me three times. Do it once, shame on you. Do it twice, shame on me. Do it three times, and well, I think I went and lost my damn mind for a minute, but it’s back, and it can’t stop thinking about you.” 

Clarke smiles and leans in, kissing her again. “How long do we have?” 

Lexa pulls a slip of paper out of her back pocket and holds it up. “It’s a one way ticket, love. We’ve got all the time in the world.” 

[himbowelsh]

prompt:  Could you do number 9 (cuddling) for the intimacy prompts with team leckie? I love them as an ot4 and i think i have already seen everything there is for them so far haha. I love the way you write them in the valentines day prompts :’)      ( INTIMACY PROMPTS :  ACCEPTING )

team leckie ot4  ( platonic and / or romantic ) 

2000+ words

“the silence of lonely things”

Runner’s got a fever again. It drifts in and out, coming and going like a fickle breeze, leaving him shivering, his thin shirt and boxers completely soaked through. He drifts on a half-remembered haze, stolidly insisting he’s fine anytime one of them asks. That doesn’t mean he protests whenever Hoosier brings a new blanket over to switch out with the current candidate, or Chuckler sweeps a cool cloth over his brow. Runner may be pathetic when ill, but he’s not ungrateful.

“Trust you to pick up whatever’s going around this week,” Leckie chirps. Sprawled sideways in the cushy leather chair, he sounds way too cheerful.

“Not that bad, I told you,” Runner grumbles. “I’ll be up by tomorrow. Probably dancing.”

That much is true. Illnesses love Runner, but they burn through him fast. In a day or two, he’ll be fine; this day, however, is an excuse to laze around the house, watching movies and claiming “sick day” rights.

“God help you when we have the next plague,” Hoosier declares. “Won’t catch me near your infectious ass.”

Hoosier is also sitting in the leather chair. Since it holds the acknowledged position of “most comfortable chair in the house”, everybody wanted it... but Chuckler has more important tasks at hand, so Leckie and Hoosier compromised. Hoosier’s under him, his legs hanging straight out. Leckie’s on top, curled up just so, his legs pulled in and butt bearing down on one side of Hoosier’s hips. It can’t be the most comfortable position, but neither of them are complaining. In fact, Hoosier looks very content to be smushed. With an arm around Leckie’s waist, he urges him back to lean against his chest. Leckie obliges, head falling against Hoosier’s shoulder. 

“The two of you are making me sick,” Runner declares.

“Don’t blame us,” shoots back Leckie, smirking. “You’re the one who ate a bunch of French fries off the sidewalk.” 

Chuckler dared him to, and they all know Leckie was too coward to eat them himself. “If you hadn’t pushed me, and they hadn’t spilled —“

“I caught a bunch of them,” Chuckler throws in cheerfully as he returns from the kitchen. He’s got a pack of Oreos and a bottle of Sprite balanced under one arm. In his free hand, he carries a fresh water bottle, which he passes to Runner. The coolness is like Heaven; Runner can’t help moaning.

“Now that’s what I like to hear.”

“Fuck’s sake, Hoosier.” Leckie shifts his hips pointedly, too close to Hoosier’s groin to be ignored. Hoosier shuts up.

It’s not like Runner’s got much energy left in his body anyway, but the chill of the water seems to sap the rest of it away. Rather than taking an actual sip, he balances the bottle in the crook of his neck, going boneless against the couch. A sigh escapes him as he curls into it. He doesn’t actually feel sick, just overheated and restless, like it’s the middle of July and he’s been laying inside without air conditioning for hours. Lethargy weighs him down. Still, he can’t help craving — something. Hell, he doesn’t know, but laying here alone just doesn’t feel good, even if he’s not sure what actually will.

“Stop squirming,” Chuckler counsels. He takes a moment to make sure he won’t be sitting on Runner’s head before flopping down on the couch beside him. Runner can’t say what propels him forward, but the next thing he knows, his head is in Chuckler’s lap, and he’s nudging insistently into his stomach.

That’s not like him. He doesn’t usually seek out physical contact unless it’s offered to him first. He must knock the wind out of Chuckler, too, because he gives a small grunt of surprise, looking down at his lap. Still, Runner is persistent. After a moment; his best friend gives in. Chuckler sighs, and a large hand falls on top of Runner’s head, combing gently through his sweaty hair.

“You’re still warm.” The words rumble against Runner’s ear. He huffs.

“Yeah. I can feel it.”

“Do you want to take another Tylenol? Or, here, have some more water —“

“Lew.”

Before Runner can even start to protest, a softer voice cuts in. Chuckler’s given name is only used between the four of them, tossed around just to make a point. Hoosier might wear his typical mask of disinterest, but he’s still looking at them intently. When he leans forward, a strand of golden hair falls across his forehead; Runner has the possibly-delirious urge to brush it back.

“Doubt more pills are what he needs right now,” Hoosier continues, his voice low and utterly free of judgement. “Just leave him be.”

That’s closer to what Runner wants than Chuckler’s mother-henning, but still lands a few yards to the left. “Don’t you dare,” he huffs, nestling further into Chuckler’s lap. “Last thing I want is to be alone right now. Even if you assholes are my only company.”

A chuckle reverberates from Leckie and Hoosier’s side of the room. The leather seat freaks as someone shifts atop it, and now Leckie’s studying Runner too. He never just looks, the bastard. Leckie always studies, and sometimes he smirks, like he’s seeing something really interesting. It drives Runner wild, but he’s never got the heart to tell him to cut it out.

“Don’t leave him alone, then.” Leckie draws the words out low and smooth like he’s dragging them across Runner’s skin just to tease him. “If we did that, he might just shrivel up and die from the lack of attention.” Look who’s talking, Runner wants to say, but in the next moment Leckie’s sprung off the chair and crossed over to the couch. 

“He needs to be looked after,” he declares, pressing a palm to Runner’s overheated forehead. God help him, Runner moans.

Okay — for the sake of his dignity, it’s not really a moan. A hum, really. A very satisfied hum. It’s also all Leckie needs to hear. The next second, he’s wiggling himself into the very limited space on the couch, squeezing into the precarious gap between Runner’s body and the sofa cushions. This gives him the perfect window to wrap an arm around Runner’s chest, pulling him back. Runner didn’t realize how much he was craving the touch until he has it. Some instinct from when he was a kid — the same one which always left him clinging to his mother’s side whenever he felt under the weather, resting his head on her chest while she rocked him until he fell asleep — must still be in there. He feels it stir back to life. Even if every instinct in his body’s screaming not to give in, because he’s got pride, damn it, and no way Leckie will forget this in a million years… but Runner’s also human. Leckie’s touch is soft, and his chest is like a muscle-bound pillow. Runner doesn't have the motivation to resist. After a moment, he melts back into the embrace. Leckie huffs a laugh, massaging along Runner’s arm. It feels so good that Runner’s eyes flutter shut. He doesn’t even realize he’s smiling until Chuckler’s thumb brushes his bottom lip, as if to admire the expression.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be?” Hoosier just sounds offended to be left out. After a moment, where no one bothers to toss him a reply, he huffs and hauls his own ass out of the chair. Runner doesn’t pay attention to where he goes. He’s too focused on Leckie’s soothing massage, and Chuckler’s fingers still running along his scalp. When, after a few moments, someone nudges him, he only hums in displeasure.

“Up and at ‘em. I got something better for you.”

“Come on, Bud,” Chuckler urges, his voice low in Runner’s ear. Leckie’s already making his escape. When Runner pries his eyes open, he’s confronted with a mess in the middle of the living room — all the pillows he’s got in the house, plus the blankets from his own bed, and the spare comforter in the closet. In the middle of the chaos sits Hoosier. He’s organized the nest into something resembling comfort. As he flops back onto a small mountain of pillows, he heaves a sigh.

“Incoming,” Leckie announces, before nearly divebombing him.

Runner appraises the situation as their two friends wrestle in a canopy of cushions. He turns over in Chuckler’s lap, humming. “I dunno. Looks kinda hazardous to me. Should we risk it?”

“Stop your hemming and get down here,” Hoosier demands. After all the effort he went to, Runner supposes, it’d be a shame to let it go to waste.

He moves first, shifting off Chuckler’s lap into a sitting position. Chuckler, set free, immediately slides to the floor in a jumble of over-sized limbs. One corner of the pillow nest is clearly more comfortable than the others, so Runner Berliner’s for that. The effort of moving is worth it as he settles down into blissful softness; the comforter billows out like it wants to swallow him up, and he sinks into it, perfectly willing to let it.

Around him, he can feel his friends shifting. Chuckler slides in behind him, tucking Runner in against his side, and Runner unconsciously curls into him. Leckie’s on Chuckler’s other side, in a tangle of limbs with Hoosier. He mutters something that Runner doesn’t catch. He hears Chuckler’s answer, though: a deep chuckle, followed by, “Get in here, Lucky.” After a minute, Leckie must concede, because Runner feels Chuckler pull him close to, and there’s a soft, “oh,” as Leckie melts into the embrace.

“Y’all are gross,” Hoosier declares, somehow snaking his way to the top of the pile. He’s heavy, and bony in places bones just shouldn’t be, but he’s also warm — basically a weighted blanket. Runner minds less than he should.

“You’re the one who’s friends with us,” says Leckie.

“For that, I got no one to blame but myself.”

“We liven up your life,” Runner murmurs into Chuckler’s chest.

“This is the first sign of life you’ve shown all day.”

“Guys, come on,” Chuckler sighs. “Look, there’s a good movie on. Let’s just watch the movie.”

“I can’t stand this movie.”

“He’s right,” agrees Leckie. “You’ve got atrocious taste in films.”

“I’ve also got the remote. You wanna take it from me?”

“You say that like I couldn’t.”

Runner huffs. “I’d like to see you try, but you’ll just embarrass yourself.”

“Oh really —“

“Jesus Christ, shut up already,” groaned Hoosier, who’s disdain for the movie they’re watching has already been declared. “Let’s just watch the damn thing.”

They all settle in; after a few minutes, nothing fills the room but the sound of their breathing, their limbs shuffling in the blankets, and an explosive action scene echoing from the TV screen. Outside, rain pours down in sheets, drumming softly against the window; the sky continues to get darker and darker, going from a slate grey to a cool, deep blue. 

It’s crowded, and quiet, and a little bit perfect. When Runner closes his eyes, the rhythm of his friends’ breath washes over him. He can hear Chuckler’s heartbeat against his ear, feel Hoosier’s legs twining with his, as Leckie’s hand idly massages his shoulder. Nothing happening on the screen concerns him. He’s only interested in this moment, this feeling, the overwhelming sensation of not being alone.

Damn it, he’s happier than he should be.

As if reading his thoughts, Chuckler shifts slightly, leaning close enough to murmur in Runner’s ear. “You okay, Bud?”

Runner hums, pressing his face into his friend’s chest. “Just tired.”

He doesn’t have to see Chuckler smiling to know he is, or feel the kiss he presses into the crown of his head to know it’s there. “Alright, buddy. Get some rest.”

He’s almost afraid to, afraid they won’t be here when he wakes up — and waking up alone would be the worst thing in the world…

But the presence of his three friends lulls the worries from his mind. Runner drifts off with warmth flowing through his entire body, three bodies wrapped around his own, and a tiny smile on his lips. It’s everything he didn’t know he needed.

[heroprose]

bnha + lipstick stains

request. eiji, izuku, and uraraka finding out their s/o left lipstick stains on them because the other classmates point it out? 😔🤙 have a nice day!

a/n. can do and you too anon!!! thanks for the request!

eijiro kirishima -- between the shoulder blades

sometimes, after his weekend runs, eijiro just peels off his shirt the moment he enters the 1-A common room and stretches. but with the weather growing warmer nowadays, he tends to just leave the facility without a shirt entirely. it’s not an issue for the most part since many students were out and about exercising, so he just takes his water bottle and a towel in hand; eijiro is about to push open the door to get his morning jog in when--

“wow,” says a voice behind him. “these guys have no shame, huh?”

eijiro looks over his shoulder at the speaker. “oh, hey mina! jirou!”

“is that seriously a-- ghk! sorry,” jirou snorts. “i’m sorry, it just-- it looks like a tattoo.”

“okay, i agree,” says mina, “i wanna know what brand that is though. love the color.”

“right? suits his hair.”

“uh. what?” says eijiro, withdrawing from the front door to glance between them. “what looks like a tattoo?”

“y’know,” says mina with a laugh, “the bad boy on your back. thought you two would be a little more private than that but people can always surprise, huh?”

his back? what’s on his back? he opens his mouth to speak but just then, a warm breeze passes over as the front door opens. “oh, hey bakugou,” says eijiro, “can you do me a favor? what’s on my back?” he turns so that his back faced the newcomer who had just came back from his own jog.

there’s a pause. “that’s kinda ballsy. you like flaunting that shit out?” says bakugou finally with a snort, walking off. “freak.”

confused, eijiro brings hand towards his back and just wipes. when he pulls it back, he’s even more stunned to see the backside smeared a brick color like-- “lipstick?”

what the-- eijiro books it to nearest mirror. mixed emotions flood him when he realizes that there’s a kiss like smudge still on his skin, between the blades of his shoulders and he reflects on when you could’ve done that. last night? this morning? by now you probably have trudged back to your own room to catch up on some sleep, so eijiro decides not to confront you immediately. 

it’s a shame when he wipes it off because he truly does think it’s a nice color. on both him and you.

izuku midoriya -- lower back

everything would go down in the boys’ locker room for izuku in this situation, no doubt. it’d be a regular training day wherein everyone’s changing out of their uniforms into their tracksuits, and izuku would be reaching for the white undershirt in his locker, minding his own business when--

“izuku, dude, what is that?”

“huh?” he wheels around only to meet denki and eijiro’s wide eyes and stunned faces. “what are you talking about?”

“are you like, trying to make us jealous?” coughs denki.

“what? i don’t understand,” izuku says, giving himself a once over. sure, he was shirtless, but so was every other dude in the locker room at the moment. it wasn’t like he was showing off anything impressive.

“we know you’re dating, izuku,” says kirishima, brows furrowed. “but, uh, this is a little too much.”

he scratches the back of his head. “i have no idea what’s going on,” he replies weakly. izuku turns his head to fumikage, who has already changed and was sitting comfortably on a bench nearby with shut eyes. “hey, tokoyami-- do you get what they’re talking about?”

fumikage cracks one eye open and it immediately zeros in on izuku’s back before shifting away. “use the mirror,” he mutters.

and so he does. at first he thinks it’s some sort of a hickey (and he yelps)-- this dark burgundy smear on the side of his lower back, but when he wipes at it, it’s in the shape of a kiss. which hardly makes it better. izuku’s a brilliant shade of red at this point, and his face is on fire. 

no doubt you did this last night when you went up to his room but did you know he typically showered at night? did you do this on purpose, knowing that he’d never notice? the thought of you teasing him like that makes him want to fall apart. 

when the class all meets up, he’s much too shy to confront you over this but he really doesn’t have to-- the faded purple-red smudges on the back of his hand tell the whole story. 

ochako uraraka -- crook of the neck

sometimes, the class would get together for a movie night in the dorms of 1-A, and it would have everyone huddling on the common room’s couches as the projector played. you always liked to take a seat on the side and ochako would often follow suit. in the dim light, you’d sometimes send light, small pecks her way that would make her vibrate and float (quite literally) centimeters off the couch, at peace knowing that no one else would notice.

with her on your lap, you press a kiss into the crook of her neck, and she laughs softly, shoulders shaking.

it was a good distraction for you because quite honestly, the movie currently playing was an absolute snoozefest-- any longer and you felt like you were going to have an out of body experience. whispering good night to ochako you head off for bed and she just squeezes your hand farewell.

it’s not until the lights turn back on and she’s cleaning up the trash when she hears a sudden “eep!” come out of izuku. “deku?” she pulls herself upright from leaning over the table. “are you okay?”

he’s not. he doesn’t meet her gaze and his pupils seem to be shaking. “um-- yes, i’m fine! i can finish cleaning up, you-- you can go ahead up?”

“i don’t mind cleaning up,” says ochako, smiling. “i was on duty last week but i really half-assed that so i feel bad.”

“it’s okay!” says izuku. “i don’t hold that against you.”

she blinks. “okay. i’ll just toss what i have right here and i’ll be right up. does iida have the trash bag right now?”

“i do!” says tenya from around the corner and when he enters, he freezes up upon seeing ochako. “uraraka,” he says, voice stern. “you should know we are still on school property and should abide by school conduct-- which means, no... none of that is allowed.” he points a finger towards somewhere below her chin.

“um?” says ochako, tossing the empty snack bags and then wiping down from her chin. “i don’t know what you-- huh?” her fingers are smeared with a familiar fiery orange that is definitely not cheeto dust. 

ochako goes as red as izuku when she hightails out of there. it’s all over her: her neck, shoulder-- and the worst part of it all, you probably didn’t even realize thanks to the darkness of the room. that means she just spent those ten minutes cleaning up looking like she got macked on (which was lowkey true) and no one even said anything. it’s gonna be hard to look anyone in the eye tomorrow.