#but like. in my chart. i have absolutely no air signs alright | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ptergwen · 4 years ago

Text

written in the stars

w/c: 2.7k

warnings: jus (lots of) making out

summary: using your newly acquired knowledge of astrology, you test your compatibility with tom

a/n: i was planning on making this a little blurb for y’all but then i got really into it and here we are lmfhfksjks i promise you don’t have to know anything about astrology or birth charts to enjoy cuz i broke it all down + it’s not the main focus of the fic anyways! this is mostly a day in the life with tommy boy and i hope you like it as much as i do :,) also some of this might be wrong.. i’m not an expert so yeah

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“right, so how does this work again?” tom watches your laptop screen with curious eyes.

you’ve been getting into astrology lately, and whatever you care about, so does he. that’s why you’re currently laid across your bed in sweats while you teach him everything you know. but first, you’ll need to do his birth chart. it’s the pinnacle of everything.

“you just have to tell me what time you were born, then it does the rest for me,” you grin, typing in the name of the website. you’d had to do some research to find a reliable one. “that’s it? you don’t need, like, my birthday or something?” tom quirks an eyebrow at the chart generator.

“i already know your birthday, babes.” you laugh softly and let your head fall onto his shoulder. “you crazy gemini.” “‘m not crazy.” he smiles despite himself, leaning his head on yours. “just got a big personality, innit? charming, clever, lots of energy,” he lists off the characteristics of his sign, which you just taught him. that lights up your whole face.

“definitely not cocky,” you deadpan, tom scrunching his nose in response. “look at you, remembering all that. you really are clever.” “well, it’s interesting.” he drapes an arm around you, fingers running up and down your side. “i quite like the idea of the universe knowing me so well.”

tapping your fingers on the keys, you hum. “you’ll love your birth chart, then. tell me when you were born.” tom grimaces and squeezes at your waist. “i don’t actually know.” “how do you not know?” you flick his back playfully, making him flinch. he pokes you so you’re even. “i’ve never thought to ask. guess i’m not that clever after all.”

those are teasing words, but you press a reassuring kiss to his cheek. he gladly accepts it and gives you one on the side of your neck.

“no, your head’s gigantic. there’s gotta be something up there.” you knock on his skull for emphasis, your hand tangling in his hair. tom lets out a breathy chuckle. “hot air,” he explains as your fingers run through the messy locks. “you’re so...” you don’t even have the words. tom does. “hilarious? witty? amusing?” he tries to finish, tilting his head back to look at you.

“yeah, all of the above,” you confer and bring your hand back down to the keyboard. your lips curve into a smirk when tom whines. he’s the biggest baby, and he makes no attempt to hide it. “why don’t you text your mom and ask for your time of birth?” you suggest, tom pursing his lips in agreement. “sure, i’ll give mum a ring. i bet she loves this stuff, too.”

you roll over to lay on your back, tom still on his stomach. he pulls his phone from his pocket and opens imessage. “ah, nikki’s an astrogirl?” you wonder. tom makes a funny face at the term. “is that what you call yourselves?” “not really. well, not officially.” giggling, you loop your fingers around his wrist. “you can be an astroboy, if you want. or girl.”

tom sighs and leans over so his face hovers above yours. “god, you’re adorable. how are you so cute?” he gently pecks your lips. you’re about to kiss back, then he moves off to your cheek. after that is your forehead, chin, and finally down the bridge of your nose. it leaves you out of breath from laughter and with warm skin.

“i can’t answer that if you’re gonna launch a kiss attack on me-“

tom’s lips capture yours in a proper kiss, which you now get the chance to reciprocate. you hold him in place with your hands on his cheeks. his eyes instantly flutter closed and lashes tickle your face. the feeling draws another giggle out of you, and right into his mouth.

“absolutely gorgeous,” tom mutters against your lips. “anyone ever tell you that?” “you do, tommy. all the time.” your voice comes out gravelly, breathless, a grin painting your face. it transfers to tom. “mm, that’s right. my pretty baby.” he’s beaming down at you. he moves on top of you swiftly, his weight held up by his elbows on your sides.

you pull apart so you can go back in harder, hands situating in his curls again. tom grabs at your hips while the kiss deepens. your legs wrap around his waist clad in joggers and allow your bodies to be even closer together. the less space between you two, the needier you both get. “love,” tom parts his lips for you. “can i get a little more?” “course you can, tommy.” your fingers tug at his curls, mouth opening slightly.

his tongue skims its way across your lower lip, asking for access. you give his hair another pull to grant it. tom lets his tongue slip into your mouth, searching for your own as his hands continue to roam your body. he’s gone from gently peppering you in kisses to fully eating your face. no complaints, though. a quiet whimper escapes you when your tongues clash.

tom starts to push up your t-shirt, eyes opening to meet yours for approval. they’re completely darkened. you nod because you can’t answer with words. your tongue is preoccupied, intertwined with his. he sets his hands on your bare stomach, your nails scratching at tom’s scalp in a way that elicits a low groan.

“feels good?” your words come out muffled, barely audible. tom still understands them. “so good,” he rasps, calloused fingers dragging along your skin. they start to move up your body as you brush your lips against his. the kiss is light, and tom’s lips feel swollen as they move. his hands are nearing your chest, your legs tightening around his waist.

it earns another sinful noise from him. you want to see just how much he’s enjoying himself, so you peek up at him. what a sight that is. his faced twisted up as he focuses on kissing you, strands of hair stuck to his forehead from your playing with it. he’s so beautiful, and deserves to know. before you can tell him, you see his phone light up from the corner of your eye.

“tom,” you mumble his name. he’s too distracted by searching for your bra hook to hear. “tommy?” you’re louder this time, his mouth moving off of yours. “what is it, love?” tom exhales, hot breath hitting your face. “i think your mom texted back.” you offer a smile and run your thumb over his plumped lips. he only squints at you.

“about your time of birth,” you clarify. “for your birth chart.” “oh, that.” he kisses your thumb, nodding to himself. “forgot we were doing that.” tom tends to get a bit carried away with anything you related. making out can go on for hours and down many different paths, but it’s not the only thing. he’s a man in love, and the woman he shares that with gets all his attention at any given time. you’re so lucky to receive it.

you nod back and feel his racing heart as it beats against yours. “if you still want to, yeah.” “i definitely do. wanna hear you say more nice things about me,” tom jokes, a smug grin pulling at his lips. your eyes narrow. “who says they’ll be nice?” you challenge and earn a snicker from him.

“alright, missy. can you hand me my phone please?” he drops his head onto your chest, big brown eyes gazing up at you. “yes, sir.” you pat his cheek and grab his phone from next to you. tom’s contact name for nikki is set as ‘Ma x’, which brings a toothy smile to your face. “here you go.” you dangle his phone above his head. tom takes it from you promptly. “thanks.”

after leaving a couple of kisses on your clothed chest, he rolls to lay next to you. “let’s see, let’s see,” he murmurs, reading his mom’s messages. you scoot closer so you can look. “ooh, lots of crying emojis,” tom remarks. “i think you made her kinda nostalgic.” you pout at the screen. copying your face, he clicks on a picture nikki attached.

“she even pulled out the birth certificate.” he shows you his phone, and you zoom in to see when he was born. “big stuff here,” you say while you read. tom takes the time to get comfortable, resting his chin on your shoulder. “looks like you popped out in the middle of the night,” you conclude, giving him his phone back. he clicks his tongue at you.

“don’t say popped out.” feigning innocence, you glance over at him. “too late.” tom types out a reply thanking his mom before tossing his phone aside. “middle of the night makes sense, though.” he bites the inside of his cheek. “i’ve always been a party animal, haven’t i?” you turn onto your side and put a hand on his chest.

“it’s in your gemini nature. or really, your tom nature.” tom does an over exaggerated wink. “i like the sound of that.” he chuckles when you hit at his chest. “bring the laptop. let’s get this thing going.” you huff as you reach over him to grab it. you’ve switched positions so you’re laying horizontally on your stomach and over his legs, your laptop in front of you.

“if we find out there’s any scorpio in you...” you shutter. “hm? what’s wrong with scorpios?” tom wonders, watching you plug his birth time into the generator. “they’re literally insane, tom. like, serial killer insane. there’s statistics.” your eyes go wide as you hit enter. he leans his head back on his arms with a wince. “never mind, then.”

a small gasp leaves your lips, you squeezing tom’s knee. “it’s done.” “what does it say? share with the audience,” tom requests so you do your thing. you’re eager to get to it, turning the laptop to show him his birth chart. “ok, so.” you point at a box a few places down. “this is your rising sign, which is basically how other people see you.”

tom reads the chart, moving his own finger along the screen. “it says i’m a... taurus. what are those like?” “in one word? boring,” you summarize, tom only frowning. “kidding, kidding.” his frown fades into a small smile at that. “they’re known for being super nice and chill... also stubborn,” you tell him and prop your head in your hand.

“so, that makes no sense. those are complete opposites,” tom comments, slipping out from under you. he settles by your side. “i don’t get how i can be a gemini and a taurus, either.” “weird, right?” you sigh in content as his hand comes to stay on the small of your back. “very strange. do you think it could be wrong?”

“are you questioning the universe’s plan?” you tease, tom drumming his fingers on you. “yes, i am.” “see, you’re stubborn! taurus things.” you scroll down to his moon sign before he can protest. tom sticks out his tongue and tries to lick your cheek, which you stop by putting your hand in his face. “next is your moon sign,” you laugh out, ignoring his boyish behavior.

“that controls your emotions and private thoughts,” you elaborate and look presently surprised when you see what tom’s is. “yours is sagittarius. that’s a cool one.” “is it? how come?” tom sneaks a few kisses down the shell of your ear. “you guys are really open-minded and into things that challenge you.” he nods, signaling for you to go on. you turn onto your back so you’re looking up at him.

“you’re all about your freedom, though. it’s hard to hold you down for too long.” grinning, tom brings his face into your line of vision. “that must mean you’re a real force because i’m not going anywhere.” he nudges your nose with his, lips ghosting over yours. you return the smile and meet him halfway for your lips to connect. “anytime soon,” tom adds on in a whisper, kissing back easily.

this one doesn’t last long, but it doesn’t need to. it’s just one of those kisses that makes you feel each other’s love, no matter how you go about it. they’re essentially your own made up love language.

you’re still smiling when your lips detach, fingers combing through tom’s tussled locks. “now that we’ve done the big three...” you preface. “androids, aliens, and wizards?” tom jokes, you breathing out a laugh. you’d thought he had a soft spot for sam and bucky. your suspicions were correct.

“cute, but no. your sun sign, moon sign, and rising sign,” you explain to him. “sure, sure. what about them?” tom toys with the hem of your shirt while you think. a mischievous glint in your eyes, you suddenly sit up. “since you know yours, and i know mine, how about we test our compatibility?”

tom is well aware of what that means, and he isn’t so sure he’d like to do it. he’s someone who believes in cliches like soulmates and fate, so he’ll take your results seriously. after the lessons on astrology you gave him, especially.

his heart will always hold a special place for you and you only. nothing will change that. but, what if the universe says you can’t be together? where do you go from there?

“um,” tom presses his lips into an uncertain line. you’re already getting your laptop. “i mean, do we want to know? what if we’re not...” you come back over to him with both eyebrows furrowed. “compatible?” “yeah” he hesitates before answering, which tells you he’s nervous.

“it’s just for fun, tommy,” you assure him and press a quick kiss to his lips. “besides, if anyone could defy the odds, it would be us.” tom perks up a bit, sitting up next to you. “you think we’re that strong, huh?” “absolutely. do you?” you’re already sure what he’s going to say. he pulls you into his lap, kissing at your hair and letting it linger. “one hundred percent. i’ll do it.”

you put your laptop in your own lap with a grin. tom’s arms hold you by your middle. “ok, here we go,” you mutter, searching for a good compatibility calculator. it doesn’t take long to find one. “remember, this all a bunch of theories. our love goes beyond what a stupid website tells us, okay?” you remind him, his arms tightening around you.

“okay. i love you,” tom speaks into your hair. “you’re so good at saying exactly what i need to hear. how do you do it?” “i love you too, and that’s a secret i’ll never tell.” you take one of his hands and bring it to your lips. tom’s leg bounces while you plug your three signs and his into the calculator. before hitting the calculate option, you look at him over your shoulder.

“ready?” your finger hovers over the cursor. you know how much these things mean to him, so you want to be positive that he is. “can we do it together?” tom asks shyly, which is highly uncharacteristic of him. “sure, baby. on the count of three.” you wait for him to place his hand over yours. he grips it tight, then you start to count. “one... two... three.”

the two of you click calculate at the same time, your results taking a few seconds to load. “love, i’m so nervous. i can’t look.” tom dips his head down so yours is blocking his view. you lightheartedly roll your eyes. “it’s fine, tom. i’m sure we’ll-“ the screen changes to display your compatibility rating, you cutting yourself off. he slowly creeps out from behind you.

“oh, god. are they in? what’s it say?” tom grabs onto your waist, feeling vibrations from you giggling. you shake your head at the website. “it’s really good... almost a perfect match. told you we’re meant to be.” he joins in your laughter, an endless amount of kisses going down the side of your head. “now, it’s written in the stars. we’re untouchable!”

he’s flipping you over so he lays above you, lips colliding messily with yours for the millionth time today. you don’t mind, though. you could do this a million more. “a power couple,” you continue for him between another peck of his lips. “always have been,” tom corrects and shuts you up again with his mouth on yours.

your hand reaches up for him, but doesn’t make it as the passionate kiss he’s giving you takes your breath away. he locks your fingers together instead, whispering one last thing.

“always will be.”

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 4 years ago

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KILL4ME

Pairings: Johnny Depp x Reader (and kind of x female!OC but that’s not the main focus of anything)

Summary: You're a new actress trying to get your start. You end up getting your first role cast in a music video for Marilyn Manson’s “KILL4ME” music video but it turns out to be much more than you expected.

Warnings: SMUT (male x female, female x female)

A/N: 1) I made the reader straight with no prior female x female experiences. I don’t know why if I’m being honest but that’s how it is so please don’t come at me for it. 2) This is NOT how the film industry should work. If you’re trying to get into the industry, please stay safe, be responsible, and recognize red flags. Typically, randomly popping up pornographic requests is NOT professional or safe. This is just a fantasy I had while watching the music video and was written this way strictly for entertainment purposes.

Word Count: 5696

__________________________

This project requires nudity and sexual scenes. If you are not comfortable, do not apply.

The warning had been clear as day and yet, here you were, sitting in your car at the old mansion that was the filming site, nerves going off the charts and feeling less than comfortable with the imminent nudity and sexual scenes. You were an actor, you reminded yourself. This was the only job you’d landed since arriving in Los Angeles and, despite your promises to yourself and your family that you wouldn’t resort to full nudity for a project, there were bills that needed paying and your waitressing job wasn’t cutting it.

Besides, shouldn’t you be thrilled? This wasn’t just any music video you’d landed a role in but a music video for Marilyn Manson! He was a goth rock legend and you couldn’t hide your excitement when you’d found out who you’d been booked to work for.

But still, the nudity and sexuality made you uneasy. There hadn’t been a script or anything. Your only instructions were to come looking your best and with an open, ready to work mindset. So here you were, physically feeling like a million bucks but butterflies going crazy within.

Inhaling a deep, calming breath, you opened the door to your barely working 2008 Honda Civic, feeling even more self-conscious when you saw the other cars that were parked outside of the massive mansion were all beautiful and sleek, most of them black and very expensive looking.

Crew members stirred around outside, entering and exiting the house with lights and props and sound equipment, everything needed for the production. You walked through the large black door that led into the beautiful white mansion, opening into an equally fantastic interior. You audibly gasped, “This is beautiful…”

“Y/N?” A woman’s voice questioned from beside you and you spun quickly to face her, snapping out of your amazed daze.

“Yes.” You answered hastily.

She checked the clipboard in her hand, “Great, you’re right on time. Come right this way, we’re gonna get you into hair and makeup.” You were about to reply when she’d taken off down the hall without giving you a moment to speak so you followed, avoiding the moving equipment around you.

Before you knew it, you’d been whisked away into a small room that was full of makeup, hair styling tools, and costumes. Nobody told you what they were doing as they pulled your hair straight and did up your makeup, surprisingly simpler than you’d expected with just light eyeshadow and moderate eyeliner.

“Alrighty, now I’m gonna have you undress and put on that robe over there.” The man in charge of costumes directed.

Your brows furrowed, “How undressed?”

“All the way, sweetie. No panties, no bra. It’s all gotta go.” He must have seen the uneasy look on your face because he gave you an unsympathetic shrug, “You signed up for a nude project, hun. Welcome to Hollywood.”

“Y/N is here. I believe that’s it, Mr. Manson.” The same woman as earlier announced as you entered the room you were supposed to be briefed in. It took everything in your power to remain professional when you saw Marilyn Manson standing there, talking casually with another girl who you assumed to be a co-star.

Like you, his makeup was already done up and he was in full costume. His face was painted pale white with a black loop drawn across one half and his other half blank except for the unnaturally blue contact and dark panda-like eyeliner. His lips were stained bright red and you almost felt like you were looking at a picture of him online.

“Thank you, Yolanda.” None other than The Marilyn Manson (and yes, “The” was now an official part of his name in your mind) thanked the woman who you assumed to be an assistant. “Come on in, Y/N.” He beckoned you into the room and you tried to front your most professional, most confident face but the way you held your robe tight to your body gave you away.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Manson.” You came up, reaching to shake his hand, “It’s a real honor to get to work with you.” Kiss ass, you muttered to yourself.

Instead of shaking your hand, he simply waved his hand in the air, “Ah, the pleasantries. I hope it will be a pleasure to work with you as well.”

You retracted your extended hand awkwardly, unsure of whether or not that was a blow off or him just being mysterious and cool, and scuttled to stand with the other girl. She was beautiful and blonde, tall and thin. Model-esque. You felt insecure next to her, especially in front of someone as influential as Manson. You were just you, an inexperienced actress-to-be, on her first professional job with a bunch of people who definitely knew their way around a camera.

“Alright, so I know you came here with minimal details,” Marilyn began, a weirdly neutral look on his very painted face, his tone flat and low. It was hard to read him with his contacts in. “Hopefully, that’s a good sign this will work well. You’re both willing to take risks. You’re flexible. Well, I’m here to give you the details. As you know, there is nudity and sex required for this video. It will be between you two,” You stiffened up awkwardly as he gestured all too casually between the two of you, “And my old friend here.”

On cue, none other than Johnny Depp walked into the room. Your jaw visibly hit the floor. There is no fucking way. “Hello.” He greeted with a smile, the same smile that you’d seen millions of times in his movies that you’d binged every so often.

Were you the only one feeling so shocked? Why the hell was the actress next to you so calm? Why was Johnny so calm? You were about pretend to fuck Johnny fucking Depp!

Johnny stepped forward to shake your hand, “I’m Johnny, nice to meet you,” He introduced politely.

Starstruck, you took his hand, “Y/N. It’s nice to meet you as well.” Then he leaned down and kissed your hand, actually kissed your hand like a fucking gentleman, eyes never leaving yours. God, the way he looked up at you through his strands of middle parted 90’s hair… it was enough to make your breath catch.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, he moved from you to the girl next to you, “I’m Marie.” She responded to his introduction politely. He brought her hand to his lips as well but, maybe you were crazy - just imagining some fantasy, but it felt detached and fast when he did it to her.

“Great, well now that we all know each other,” Marilyn interjected as Johnny moved back to stand by his friend, “I’ll continue. I’ve already shot my parts so I’ll be here to direct you if needed but I want this as natural as possible. Aside from a few artistic shots, I need this to be raw, primal, and absolutely fucking filthy.”

You and Marie listened on in intent silence, soaking in his every word. But you found it hard to focus when, out of the corner of your eye, you saw Johnny eyeing you. No, no, it couldn’t be. He was probably just zoned out behind you.

***

A few hours later, all of the artistic shots had been done. There were shots of you pulling up thigh high stockings that clipped onto the garter belts hanging from your nearly sheer black underwear and having a leather corset tightened tightly on your back, cinching your waist smaller than you’d ever seen it. You had put on massively high heels and large, luxurious costume jewelry.

Even though the outfit could be seen as objectifying, you’d never felt more confident or powerful in your life. After your last shot of just your nearly bare thighs, you were dismissed momentarily so Marie could film her sections.

You walked over to your bag and took out a water bottle, not realizing how much this took out of you, running the same seemingly simple shots over and over again under blaring lights. “How long have you been acting?”

Oh God. It was him.

You turned to see Johnny standing next to you, very close, much closer than was considered polite distance but not so close that you felt suffocated. He looked gorgeous, hair hanging perfect from his beautiful tan skin. Earrings hung from his lobes, dangling just slightly. His white button up shirt was only buttoned half way, showing off his smooth, toned chest that barely showed any signs of his older age (not that he was ancient but he was definitely on your list of celebrities over 45 that you would let rail you). But the cherry on top was the eyeliner. The fucking eyeliner. It took you back to so many of his characters that you’d fallen in love with but with the white shirt and earrings, you were getting almost a refined Jack Sparrow crossed with Sweeney Todd feeling and God you’d never been so turned on by a pirate/ serial killer.

“You okay?” He asked, and you blinked rapidly, totally horrified that you’d been staring.

“Oh! Sorry! Um, this is my first real shoot, actually. You know how Hollywood is…” You chuckled awkwardly, reaching your hand around to rub your neck. Of course, he knew how Hollywood was, stupid! You cursed yourself, hoping you didn’t sound as dumb as you felt.

He leaned a hand up against the wall, “Yeah, I know how that is. But don’t worry, this is a great place to start.” He reassured, looking away at the set oh so casually. Your eyes trailed up his arm that had planted itself just beside you on the wall. Was he really doing what you thought he was doing?

No! He was Johnny Depp. He could have whichever woman he wanted at the bat of an eyelash. Why would he want you?

“Y/N! We’re ready for your scene with Marie!” The director called to you from behind the camera and you perked up.

“I better go.” You nodded over to the set, walking away awkwardly, almost scared that you be perceived as rude for having to do your job.

He chuckled and waved you on. This made you blush bright red and turn to run off to set.

You found yourself directed to a bed, “All right,” The director began, Marilyn standing directly next to him, hand on his chin as he watched his vision be brought to life, “Now, first, we’re going to get shots of you making out. I need it hot, I need it passionate. I don’t care if you’ve never kissed a girl before, make it look like you have. Next, we’re going to do totally nude shots of you grinding.”

Your eyelids fluttered slightly in shock at what he said. Okay, you could do that, you hyped yourself up.

Before you knew it, you were lying on the bed, Marie on top of you. Her soft lips were against yours and her nails raked gently down your throat, sending shocks down your body. Even though you were acting, it was hard to separate the feelings that arose, regardless of your sexuality. It had been a long time since anyone had touched you like this. Your hands tangled in her hair and your eyes were screwed shut.

“Cut!” The director yelled and Marie immediately pulled back, snapping out of character and back into her over-professional attitude. You, on the other hand, needed a brief moment to pull out of character. After just a second, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, Marie still straddling you. Your breasts filled the tight push up bra you wore but you felt surprisingly comfortable in it, even around all these people. That was, until you glanced over to see Johnny standing beside Marilyn, at first looking at a monitor and reviewing footage, but then over at you, his gaze stuck on your accentuated chest.

Your face flushed red as you quickly looked away, not seeing the amused smirk that graced his face. Little did you know, he was very aware of what he was doing and very pleased with your reaction.

“That was perfect. Now we’re gonna move onto the sex scenes.” He waved you and Marie over and you obeyed once she climbed off your torso.

Marilyn and Johnny too came over, completing the small group. Marilyn spoke, “Now you knew there was sex and nudity and I’m very pleased with how this is turning out,” He paused, giving you both a very serious look, “But now, I’m going to ask something of you that you probably aren’t comfortable with. Usually with sex scenes, there’s fabric in place to hide cocks and shit but I don’t want any of that. It distracts actors from the scene and there’s always the issue of whether or not you see it. I want raw, I want primal, I want absolutely fucking filthy.”

He was quiet for a moment, waiting for you and Marie to piece together his request, but filling in the rest when he saw both of your professional exteriors crack in confusion, “I want you to all actually fuck. Only if you’re comfortable with it but if you’re not you’ll be paid for the work you’ve done and we’ll find someone to replace you.”

You nearly choked, “Like… porn? You want this to be porn?” Johnny chuckled to himself, seeing your embarrassed, nervous reaction. You were so cute.

He looked pensive for just a moment before nodding, “Yeah, I suppose so.” He answered bluntly, “Like I said, only if you’re comfortable with it but, if not, you’ll be fired for the rest of the video.”

Oh God, were you really about to agree to porn? Like actual fucking porn? Three way porn at that! But three porn with Johnny Depp…. It was the one thing you told yourself you wouldn’t do. But then again, your rent was due in two weeks and you were $300 short. “I’m in.” You answered, almost regretting it immediately.

“Me too.” Marie agreed, long arms crossed across her chest.

“Good. Now let’s get to it.”

The lesbian sex scene had gone by relatively hitch free, save for a few awkward placement issues. Marie, being straight as an arrow, had no clue what she was doing, and you too were inexperienced in the department but with a little direction, the scene was finished.

She knelt on her knees, holding your naked hips up and grinding your bare core against her own. Your eyes were closed, trying to remember every previous sexual encounter and porno you’d seen to try and make the sexiest faces and the sexiest form.

Johnny couldn’t take his eyes off you as you writhed on the bed, completely naked and grinding up against another beautiful woman. Everything about you looked so authentic but innocent but dirty. He found himself craving you in the most unprofessional ways as he watched your breasts bounce with every roll of your hips.

When the scene was over, you nearly jumped off the bed and rushed for your robe. You were embarrassingly wet right now, the eye contact you’d made with Johnny while having your clit rubbed was just absolutely intoxicating and you were just thankful that you were able to control yourself enough to not get your juices all over Marie.

As they changed the scene around, you stood beside Johnny and Marilyn. “Method actor?” He asked.

You cocked an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“You looked pretty into the scene up there. Wonder what you were thinking about…” He continued. Your heart was in your throat. His tone was dark and sultry and implied exactly what he thought you were thinking about and boy was he correct. “As a method actor myself, I completely understand your… position.”

Johnny looked down at you, his dark eyes unyielding as he dove into your very soul and could see you every fantasy.

“Okay! Everyone on set!”

Ignore the cameras, you screamed at yourself. You’re not doing porn, you’re just having a threesome with Johnny Depp and some girl named Marie. Yeah, that was a convincing story to tell yourself. Just relax in this totally normal situation. Pfft, as if.

But you were an actress. Then something occurred to you, the ghost of a voice spoke to you. It was actually words spoken by Johnny in an old interview you’d seen him do, words that had stuck with you as a foundation in your training: “The most important thing that an actor needs to do is not to act, but to react. That's what it is all about, and you do one of the most difficult things in the world, which is to just be--to be in the state of being.”

Just relax. React to the scene. Be in the scene. Hell, this wasn’t even a scene anymore. This was a secret fantasy you’d never known you’d had coming to life. There wasn’t even any acting involved. So just be.

“Action!”

Immediately in character, you caressed Marie sexually, hands running along her sides as you nipped along her neck. Now that you were the dominant character, her scantily clad body was putty in your hands. Your teeth raked along her skin and you felt her shudder beneath your touch, brushing her long blonde hair over her shoulder.

Then a quiet metallic sound drew your attention. You and Marie both looked over towards the ornate door to see Johnny standing there, looking in through the gold grated peephole.

Marie looked at you, her eyes full of question. Should you let him in? Honestly, you weren’t sure if your characters knew who he was. No! Stop, you’re not playing a character now. You’re you. You are the character.

You chewed your lip seductively and walked over, legs crossing and hips rocking as your heels clicked on the hardwood floor. You reached down, perfectly manicured fingers gripping the handle delicately and unlocked the door. Before he could even get ahold of his surroundings, you had him by the collar and pulled him in. He could play all the sexy flirty games he wanted, but right now, you were in control and you were going to make him want you more than anything, even if it all was just for the camera.

His hands found your hips immediately as he attempted to steady himself but, gosh, all he wanted to do was take you here and now, preferably without Marie or the cameras, but he figured that if that’s what it took to fuck you, he was more than willing to compromise.

You pulled him in, your lips finally crashing against his. At first, he was hesitant but only for half a second, before he returned the kiss with even more fervor than you’d gone in with. Marie came up on his side and nibbled his ear, hands roaming up and down his chest between your very close bodies.

Johnny pulled back from this kiss and twisted just enough to snake an arm around Marie’s thin body and led her to face you. Then his hands came to firmly hold the back of each of your necks and forced your faces together, pressing you and the other woman to kiss. You both complied obediently, a strange mix of submissively and dominantly, like you were submitting to him but then fighting between the two of you.

Her lips moved graciously against yours, smooth and soft. It was so much more different than kissing a man. This felt delicate still despite the absolute filth that was ensuing. Her hand shot out to hold you by the jaw and pulled you in roughly, Johnny’s hand almost not needing to do anything.

He watched in amazement as the two of you obeyed his every physical command, the way you both looked so lost in each other. He knew you were straight just by interacting with you earlier but you could have had him fooled now.

This wasn’t the first time he’d been in threeway with two other girls but this was definitely the hottest one. Before, it was all just to see if he could pull it off and then just to have the novelty of having girls bend to his will but this was different. You were different. He couldn't really explain it but he was completely enamored by you. An air of innocence surrounded you from the moment he set eyes on your otherworldly beauty but the saw in your eyes a fire that burned with the ability to be more than that. He was determined to see just how hot that fire burned.

He pulled you and Marie apart before bringing her to kiss him. While he did, his free hand absentmindedly groped your chest, your breasts spilling from the top of your push up bra. A twinge of jealousy went through you as you watched them kiss, although you knew how irrational it was. They were actors. You were too. There was nothing personal about this. But, for some unexplainable, unprofessional reason, there was for you.

You slinked behind the older man like a cat and ran your fingertips ever so gently across his closed shoulders and down his biceps. They trailed down his sides as his body moved from the intense makeout session with Marie before coming around to tease over his growing bulge. In his black well fitting pants.

His body tensed ever so slightly, barely noticeable except to you two, when your hand made contact with his erection. You smirked to yourself, a dark, sexy smile, the kind of smile you’d expect to see in a twisted Tim Burton film. You were finally the mysterious gothic beauty you’d always imagined yourself as in all of his stories.

With swift fingerwork and a quick, almost too skilled, flick of your wrist, you had Johnny’s belt whipped off him and held firmly in your hands. He pulled Marie off of him and shoved her roughly onto the bed, undoing the buttons of his shirt as you walked in circles around him, trailing your gaze up and down his perfect body and dragging the leather of his belt on his torso and thighs as you did so.

The way you looked at him, like a lioness about to devour her prey, made Johnny feel like he was on fire. You seemed so in control and confident and you had a way of touching him, as if you knew exactly what made him tick. It was intoxicating.

His shirt was unbuttoned in a matter of seconds and without warning, he had you pressed back against the mattress as well. He crawled over your body, rolling his hips just right against your clothed core. A small, quiet whisper of a moan escaped your lips at the sudden, well placed contact.

Your hands tangled into his hair as you pulled him down to you, forcing his head into your neck. He kissed and sucked and nipped and licked just right, like he had a map to your body. You were embarrassingly wet from just kissing and you secretly prayed that nobody noticed but you were too lost in the moment to do anything about it.

Your leg wrapped around his waist and pulled him into you again. “Fuck…” His voice was a raspy, low whisper, said just loud enough for you three to hear.

Johnny kissed down your neck and across your breasts, moving over to Marie’s chest, which he dove into with full force. She squirmed and moaned beside you as he assaulted her perfect breasts. You rolled over as far as you could and caught her lips in yours, swallowing her moans.

That was, until Johnny’s hand trailed down to rub your core. You gasped into Marie’s full lips and rolled your hips into his hand, begging for more. Suddenly, he sat back onto his heels and grabbed your hips roughly, flipping you over onto all fours like he’d done it a million times before. “Ah!” You squealed slightly at the sudden action.

He climbed off the bed and knelt just behind you, palms rubbing over your ass and admiring every inch of you. Marie adjusted to sit just in front of you, legs spread to reveal her bare vagina before you. You weren’t sure when she’d lost her underwear but low and behold here you were face to face with all she had to bear. You’d never eaten a girl out before but you’d seen enough porn and fooled around with yourself enough to know what might work as a good start.

Cautiously, you started a few kitten licks to her clit, noticing every flinch or shudder that left her lips. Just as you began to get the hang of it, there was a loud rip as you felt the fabric of your panties be literally torn from your body. You gasped loudly, looking back behind you to see Johnny with his tongue between his teeth, admiring your body.

Johnny ran his surprisingly soft hands up and down your ass before dragging his fingertips through your already dripping folds. You moaned against Marie’s clit, her hands pulling on your hair, as his fingers circled your clit. You pressed your hips back against him, begging for more, and he was more than happy to oblige.

Before you knew it, the three of you were a tangle of limbs. At all times, you were being touched by someone, whether it was groping your chest, your ass, or your pussy, but it was always a game trying to figure out who it was. The heat was becoming unbearable and you were grateful for the lack of clothing. Your body was slicked in sweat, both yours and Johnny’s mostly.

He’d taken a clear preference to you and you almost felt bad for Marie but you didn’t feel too bad, seeing as how your lifelong fantasies were coming true. When someone was touching you, it was almost always Johnny, although he didn’t let his bias completely ruin the shot. He was a professional after all.

Soon, after at least ten minutes of blind fingering and hand jobs, you found yourself straddling Johnny as he lied naked on the bed. This was it, the moment you actually had sex with Johnny Depp. He held his large erection in one hand, guiding it to your entrance and then moved his hands to grip your hips tightly, lowering you down onto this length.

“Oh my… fuck-” You hissed out, throwing your head back as you adjusted to him. You’d never felt so full before, so complete. Without even moving, he made you feel absolutely incredible.

He chuckled sexily below you, loving your reaction. This whole scene had been a game with you, fighting for who was seducing who, who was in charge, but here he was finally proving it was him.

You steadied yourself on his chest, soft hands splayed out against his surprisingly taught, tattooed skin. To look at him like this, you never would have guessed how much older he was than you. He could pass for a very handsome man in his thirties easily.

You swiveled your hips experimentally and clenched your walls around his cock. Johnny sucked in a sharp breath as his fingertips dug harshly into your skin, sure to leave little bruises in their place. You looked down and locked eye contact with him through your long eyelashes, your hair disheveled and hanging in your face sexily, as you squeezed your muscles around him yet again and moved your hips.

“Fucking hell.” He groaned out beautifully, short nails digging crescents into your skin. His grip moved to cup your ass cheeks from below, grabbing them firmly and moving you up and down until you found a pace that worked for both of you.

Marie lied on the bed beside Johnny, one leg strewn across his chest and the other behind your bouncing body, as she toyed with her clit with one hand and fingered herself with the other.

You reached down to play with her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples between your soft fingertips but the action was half hearted at best. All you could focus on was how Johnny felt inside you, hitting all the right spots. How you had him at your will just as much as you were at his. His hair was strewn around his face on the pillows like a damn god, his eyeliner smeared every so slightly from the sweat. His eyes screwed shut every now and then but otherwise, he looked at you like no other man had ever looked at you before.

He reached between your bodies and found your clit, rubbing it in small, tight circles. Your walls began to clench uncontrollably as you felt your orgasm nearing. Your back arched as you leaned back, moving your hands to rest on his thighs as you rose and fell on his length. Marie leaned down, attaching her lips to your perked nipples and biting one gently, licking over the skin to soothe it before doing it again.

Johnny reached down to finger her roughly as she ravaged your breasts. You continued to bounce, the new angle hitting that perfect spot inside you. “I’m gonna-” Marie whined out, her voice high and seductive.

You nodded quickly, eyes screwed shut, “Me too!” You exclaimed, trying with all your might to stave off your orgasm for as long as possible but the pleasure was just building up too much.

“Cum for me.” Johnny demanded from both of you and that was all it took for you to crash over the edge. Hot flashes stroke across your body in electric waves as your body failed to keep moving. He continued to lift your body for you, helping you ride out your high but his fingers dug tightly into your skin when your walls spasmed uncontrollably around him.

“Fuck!” Marie whined out, her legs shaking against Johnny’s body as she came.

You reluctantly rolled off Johnny’s body when you felt him lift you off and rested off to the side, breathing heavily while you recovered. He got up onto his knees next to you and stroked himself quickly, aggressively, using your slick to glide his hand across his erection, before painting Marie’s body in white ribbons.

“And cut!” The director’s voice yelled out, harshly returning you from your daydream. Your eyes suddenly snapped as wide as a deer caught in headlights as the studio lights flicked on around you and the crew was visible again. The reality of everything came crashing down on you. Shit, that wasn’t some secret fantasy in your head. That was a pornographic threesome with Johnny Depp and some woman named Marie!

You glanced over to the more experienced actress and breathed out a sigh of relief to see her looking the same way you did, completely shocked and a little disappointed at what you’d agreed to, but too pleased and amazed at what you’d just done to care too much before.

Johnny, on the other hand, looked like he was already recovering with a cool exterior. He’d already begun climbing off the bed to get his clothes back on, leaving you and Marie alone on the bed to register what had happened.

“Fuck me, that was hot.” Marilyn stepped onto the set, completely comfortable and practically ignoring the fact that he’d just watched his best friend fuck two women. You blushed a bright red. Great, you forgot that Marilyn Manson now would have the image of you fucking in his memories for forever. Not exactly the impression you typically went for in Hollywood… Or was it?

The director watched over the footage, “They looked like they were enjoying themselves a little too much.” He snorted, pointing out something on the screen to Marilyn and you just prayed that it wasn’t a funny face you made in the heat of the moment.

Marilyn waved him off, “No such thing as too much fun with sex, Paul.”

Even though the crew were all doing their various jobs, you were convinced that every eye was on you. WIth a beet red face, you slinked out of the bed, hands covering your breasts and keeping your thighs as close together as you could, trying to shield your nudity from the room. It wasn’t that you were ashamed of your body, it was just the feeling of being so exposed to a room full of strangers that made the blood rush to your face.

You rushed around, trying to pick up whatever small scrap of clothing you could identify as yours. On the ground, beside the bed, was a crumpled heap of thin stringy black fabric. Your underwear! “Thank God!” You murmured to yourself, bending down to pick it up, only to have it fall in two, rendered unwearable.

Your face dropped when you saw it and sighed, starting to become more comfortable in your naked skin but more so because you had no other choice at the moment. Could you even request clothing from the crew? Where did your actual clothes end up? Why did you even think that was a ridiculous request to want your clothes back?

Just as you dropped the shredded underwear, ready to find a crew member and get your clothes back, you heard Johnny chuckle, low and sexy behind you, “You’re a great method actor,” He complimented with a wink and slight smirk, knowing damn well what he meant, the nonchalance of his entire being making you dumbfounded, “Perhaps, we could do this again under less professional circumstances.”

And with the invitation, said in the most casual way - as if inviting you for coffee, he pushed the last button through the loop of his pristine white button up, and walked to find his best friend, leaving you standing on set, naked, clutching the underwear he’d literally ripped from your body just minutes earlier, eyes on his majestic figure and trying to comprehend what the fuck just happened.

#johnny depp #johnny depp imagines #johnny depp imagine #johnny depp fanfic #johnny depp x reader #johnny depp smut #sweeney todd imagine #jack sparrow imagine #edward scissorhands imagine

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hargrove-mayfields · 4 years ago

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You’re The One I Want To Go Through Time With

Day one of HWOL is finally here!! So excited to share all I’ve written! For today I chose the prompt Neighbors AU!!! You can read this on ao3 also as part of the collection as well!! Hope y’all like it!!

Word Count: 11,952

Rated: G

It finally happens when he’s 15 years old. It’s not like he hasn’t seen it coming, but Steve gets kicked out.

In the very beginning of a particularly brutal Hawkins summer, he had decided to invite Tommy over to smoke weed in the pool house. He thought nothing of it, but the neighbors complained about the smell, and, coupled with every other act of his deemed irresponsible, immature, disgraceful, by his stuck-up parents, a couple of blunts was apparently the last straw.

They tell him the Harringtons had a reputation, an air of elegance and respect they had to upkeep, so they couldn’t just let him bring drugs onto their property. He thought it was ridiculous, considering that they were allowed as much wine aging in the cellar and expensive whiskey propped up on a hutch as they wanted, but when he’d brought it up he’d gotten nothing but a stern look.

They’d been through this a thousand times over, how worthless and terrible a son he could be, grounding him for bringing too many girls home, taking his car away when he failed a class, so he knew to expect a punishment.

This is obviously the next step, the throwing him out on the street thing, for years he could feel the neglect and tension starting to build up and boil over. Sometimes, they’d even hang threats of it over his head, so now that was told he had to be out of the mansion by the end of next week or there would be consequences, it couldn’t be too much of a shocker.

Though at some point, he’s got to wonder if they ever really thought as far ahead as consequences, or if they just knew they trained their boy well enough that it never got that far. If only he had more of a spine.

Now, as unsurprising as the scenario may be, Steve was still absolutely in no way, by any means ready to be thrown out on the streets before he even had his driver’s license.

In the case of emergency, like the time Stephen Sr. got just a little too rough and popped his wrist out of place, or when they’d left him alone for a month at age 9 and he went three days without food because he didn’t know how to turn the stove on, he had his aunt, the thankfully much more compassionate counterpart to his mother, who lived over in California.

The minute they’re gone, having passive aggressively hurried off somewhere, probably the country club or something, to complain about how disappointing their son was with their rich friends, Steve grabs a suitcase from the closet and gives his Aunt Margaret a call.

Before he knows it she’s got him a flight booked, a written agreement from her sister that proved taking him in was legal, and a set of luggage. Three days later, he was flying first class towards the rest of his life.

~~~~~~~

Touching down in San Francisco has got to be the most surreal thing he’s ever done.

He’d never even left the Midwest before, his farthest ventures being into the three states surrounding his home state, so to be charted off to the west coast? It’s an experience alright.

Aunt Margaret is there waiting for him, her jet black permed hair a few inches above the rest, her brown eyes sparkling with the kindest smile he’s ever seen as she runs up to hug him.

She takes all of his bags, swatting his hands away when he tries to carry even one, and makes him sit in the car while she shoves it all into the trunk.

He wasn’t used to not being the help, since that’s all his parents ever really saw him as anyways, only valuable as their son if they got something out of the time they spent with him. It’s got him feeling weird the whole drive back to the Margos apartment, like he’s in some alternate reality where people are nice to him for a change.

She lives in one of those shared places, a duplex where the house is divided into two halves for two different renters, the very kind his mother would’ve turned her nose up at despite having been raised in one herself. Margaret told him there was a mother and son who lived in the other half, but they’re quiet enough, and polite.

Just pulling up outside of the house, Steve already knows it’s everything he’s ever wanted.

The house itself, painted a pale shade of peeling yellow and missing the majority of the shingles off of the roof, is actually a reasonable size, a direct contrast to the mansion he grew up in, fit for a dozen but occupied by one most days.

Brutal summer heat has dried up the lawn and the garden so they aren’t perfectly tailored, not trimmed by underpaid staff or watered by automatic sprinklers. All across it there’s a scattering of ornaments, like colorful pinwheels in the front garden, and plastic flamingos standing guard by the mailbox.

There’s even a rickety old fence, all mossy and broken up to mark the edges of their property, so different from the white vinyl fence in his backyard at his parents house.

It would seem too that the garage was only big enough for one car, not three like he was used to, and that the makeshift gravel driveway leading up to it was at max capacity with only his aunts Oldsmobile Cutlass Calais, and a dinged up old Karmann Ghia the same color as the house parked in it.

Basically, there were none of the telltale signs that a neglected rich boy lived there, and from that alone he already knew he belonged here.

His aunt hurries him into their section of the house, theirs is the right side, so he can get to resting off the jet lag before he starts unpacking, but he’s far too distracted taking everything in to worry about being a little drowsy.

The rooms are small and the ceilings are low. Where there would’ve been beige and white and other sophisticated tones, there was a rainbow of colors in Margos apartment, from the curtains to the carpet, the Afghan on the back of the couch to the little trinkets in the entertainment center and windowsills.

He notices that, to accommodate for the heavy summer heat, there was a fan spinning in the corner, and all the windows were left wide open. His parents had the windows painted shut back home.

It might’ve been overwhelming, being thrown into a place like this so suddenly, but in his heart he knows this was what he was made for: a cozy life with someone who treated him with the bare minimum of respect.

~~~~~~~

Eventually Steve does fall asleep, the switch from Eastern Standard to Pacific time just being too great for his body. He doesn’t really mean to, he thought he’d just lay down for a minute while he was putting his clothes away in his new dresser, but he ends up sleeping until it’s almost dark out.

He goes looking for Margo when he realizes the house is empty, an irrational pit of dread growing in his chest at the familiarity of being alone, and finds her out back.

The yard also seems to be shared with the other house, a wispy line of barely showing through grass separating the two where a divider had once been, but had since been ripped up.

His aunt is with another woman, a blonde lady who he assumed was from the next door apartment, were sitting in mismatched lawn chairs, cigarettes glowing as the sun got lower and lower in the sky.

Margaret beckons him over once she notices him, and shows him off to the woman. It’s not at all like his mother would’ve done it, none of the flaunting him to make a good impression. This is more like her wanting to introduce him because she genuinely cares.

In a way, it almost makes Steve more uneasy. He could handle all the fake stuff with only the slightest hint of discomfort at being gawked at, because most of the time he’d never have to see those people again, but this was astronomically different.

“Maria, this is my nephew Steve.” Deep blue eyes seem to take him in, accompanied by a polite smile that makes his stomach drop for no good reason.

He panics, shifts into the role of the perfect little socialite he’d been working on his whole life. Without thinking, he extends his hand for her to and produces the generic response his mother’d trained into him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Ms..”

She takes his hand, but looks a little surprised about doing it. “Hargrove. But we don’t have to do formalities.”

“Right.” It feels awkward to Steve, but judging from the laid back attitude of the women, it’s not a universal sentiment. That only makes it more embarrassing, to be the only one bothered by it.

His aunt leans back in her chair, tapping the ash of the end of her cigarette and tells him, “Go ahead and grab a chair Stevie.”

He straightens his back out and scans the yard, expecting a chair to already be propped open somewhere. The confusion must be apparent on his face when he finds nothing but grass and more grass, because his aunt specifies, “By the shed, kiddo.”

His parents always told him they weren’t allowed to have lawn furniture except the pool chairs cemented to the ground, because they said it didn’t fit the lifestyle they tried to lead. Even the concept of a shed would’ve been insulting to their tastes.

He's done enough growing up to know now that they were just afraid to look too much like they were people who lived in rural Indiana instead of in true big city luxury. They couldn’t risk seeming too much like they weren’t in the upper middle, it would be a disgrace.

The contrast between that and just sitting out there and not having his guard up is so, grounding. Not having anything at all to do but just, sit and appreciate instead of performing and worrying, it’s a lot to take in at once.

He was so nervous the whole way up, even though it was his aunt and he already knew she was nice, that they wouldn’t get along, since that’s the way things always were with his own mum, and lord knows he hardly ever even spoke to his father.

But it’s really not tense at all, actually, it’s sort of the opposite. For once in his life he feels free of expectations, and takes the moment to just exist. Ruthie and Stephen Sr. had long ago made sure that was a concept he could barely understand.

It’s not too long after that that the screen door to Maria’s side of the house swings open, scaring Steve so bad he almost tips his chair over as he startles.

There’s a boy who he’s guessing is about his age leaning out the door, but from the distance he’s at and with how dark it’s getting, Steve doesn’t see much else about him. “M back momma.”

“Okay baby.” The screen door clicks shut again in the next moment, and Maria offers Steve an apologetic smile “You’ve gotta excuse my Billy. He’s not too good with other kids.”

“No, it’s alright.” He assures her, like a polite social butterfly should.

Maria goes in a little while after that, and Margaret and Steve follow suit, since the sun’s almost all the way down.

But Steve’s curious now. He wants to know more about the boy, Billy, he thinks was what Maria called him. It’s only right to wonder, being that they’re neighbors now and all.

It gets brought up later that night, when they’re watching TV on the couch, a thrifted, feather stuffed thing he thought was simultaneously the most hideous and most comfortable thing he’d ever sat on.

“I didn’t know you had neighbors.” He’d been trying to work himself up to talking about it, sitting in the corner of the couch in a little ball and picking at his nails as he worked up his courage.

It was funny, being so nervous over casual conversation, but he guesses he could blame his parents for that one.

His own mum wouldn’t have even paid him any mind, at most pretending to listen while her eyes stayed trained to the television or magazine or coworker in front of her and hummed a non committal response, but Margo turns her whole body on the couch to face him while she answers him, with a complete sentence even. “Oh, people used to come and go all the time over there.”

“How long have they been here? Maria and her son?”

She thinks for a moment, a little surprised at her nephew's interest in the topic of their neighbors. “I don’t know, probably about a year or so now.”

“What’re they like?” He comes across as maybe a little too eager, and his aunt notices.

“What’s got you so curious?” There’s a teasing bit of reprimanding in her tone, just enough to suggest that she knows he’s being a nib-nose, but doesn’t mind it.

And he feels himself flush, because he is being nosy. To try to save face just a little, he comes up with an excuse that isn’t quite a lie. “Nothin’, just knew all my neighbors back in Hawkins, I guess.”

But she wasn’t upset with him, it wasn’t her intention to get him to shut up, like it would’ve been had he heard the same thing from one Ruthie Harrington, so she answers that question too. “I don’t know, they’re nice, sort of reserved, but I’ve never had any problems with them.”

~~~~~~

The two boys are properly introduced for the first time the next morning, when Steve goes out to fetch the mail for Margret. It feels like the least he can do for bumming off of his aunt.

Stepping out on the porch just shy of 8 in the morning and not seeing dewey grass, or the early sunshine muted behind rolling fog and dreary clouds is something he’s going to have to get used to.

Summers in Hawkins were always muggy, full of thunderstorms and unpredictably dreary days. San Francisco is so bright, so different, and such a relief.

While Steve basks in it, the already warm breeze and the sun shining bright, the neighbors’ door opens up and Billy comes out to do the same, standing on his tip-toes to reach up into the mailbox beside the door, holding a traveler's mug of coffee in the opposite hand.

When he turns around to go back inside, Steve, staying true to wanting to get to know the other boy better, has taken a few steps closer, and has extended a hand for Billy to shake, the same sort of introduction panic he’d felt last night.

But, Billy, seeing that his hands are a bit preoccupied by a stack of bills and a cup of coffee, just offers a sheepish smile.

Steve settles for a formal introduction without a handshake, though it’s still too stiff an interaction to really get to know him beyond the awkward new rich kid in town. “Hi. My name is Steve Harrington. I’m uh, I'm your new neighbor.”

“Pleasure to meet you Steve Harrington. M’Billy” They stand there, neither of them making any move to do anything but just look at one another. Billy clears his throat and shakes the coffee cup towards Steve, sensing that maybe this was the place for hospitality. “You want some? My momma always makes too much.”

“No thanks. I’m uh, allergic to coffee beans.”

“Huh.” He seems amused by that, scrunches his nose up like he doesn’t believe it, and Steve wants to curl up and disappear. “I’ll see you later then, Steve Harrington.”

He watches the other boy turn back to leave after that, and still sort of just stands there before his brain comes back on and he realizes he should say something in return. “Right, uh, bye.”

It’s just a moment's passing, but Steve can’t get the interaction out of his head.

He chalks it up to being nervous that his new neighbors won’t like him, the fear that Aunt Margo will send him back to his parents if he can’t get along here, and that makes logical sense, except, what he’s caught up on is Billy’s crooked smile, and his blond curls that lay just past his ears, messy from just waking up and bleached from the sun, and the spatter of dark freckles across his nose.

First full day in California and he has a crush on the neighbor kid. He can’t believe himself.

There isn’t very much time to mull that fact over though, because, over breakfast, what his aunt calls her ‘special occasion breakfast’ of cinnamon rolls with ice cream, she tells him she’s going to do some errands today.

And that’s alright, he tells her he’ll be fine all by himself, and he is, for the first few hours, but the more time she’s gone, the worse and worse he starts to feel. It’s that worry again, that deep rooted fear that he’ll be left alone forever.

Experience has taught him to try to calm himself down, to catch his breath and try to focus on the fact that he knows he’s being irrational, but those techniques don’t cut it, as they often don’t, and he’s sending himself further into a panic attack trying to think too hard about it

Sitting inside, he gets stir crazy, feels suffocated by everything that had before been inviting to him, so he goes for some fresh air out front. Watching the road for so long, just waiting for the Oldsmobile to pull up, he starts to feel antsy again, so he goes out back where it’s quiet instead.

There’s a glider on the porch back there, an old rusty thing that squeaked every time Steve rocked it forward or back, but the calming motion of it is probably the only thing keeping him from spiraling too far.

He doesn’t really know what time it is anymore, only that he’s hungry, and that the sun’s going down, and that he’s been sort of zoned out back there for a long while. He feels hot and cold at the same time, and he’s lost in his head.

The sound of a screen door gently tapping against the side of the house brings his eyes up from the spot on the ground he’d been staring at with tears in his eyes, but it isn’t his aunt Margaret coming home, it’s just Billy.

With his hands stuffed in his pockets, leaning against the wall between the back doors, he says real quiet like, “Momma told me to ask if you wanted some of the dinner she made.”

He shrugs. “I’m alright.”

“I figured.” Billy looks at the floor while he tries to figure out how he wants to approach this. For a long moment, neither of them say a word, no sound between them but distant field crickets, until Billy asks, his voice quiet enough it barely registers in Steve’s mind. “You okay?”

If he’s being entirely honest, Steve doesn’t really know if he’s okay. He trusted his aunt enough to move all the way across the country with her, and yet he can’t manage enough trust to believe her when she said she’d come home from some errands? Doesn’t sound too okay to him.

But he’s not in Hawkins, he’s away from the people he knows for sure wouldn’t be coming back for him unless it was to pull something like they had and treat him like garbage. So in a way, he guesses he’s better than ever.

Unable to think of any words that might convey what he’s thinking, Steve just shrugs again, but Billy seems to get it. He sits down next to Steve on the glider and plants his feet so it won’t move, and so Steve’s attention will be on him.

Knowing he’s got Steve’s focus, since he looks over at him with glossy eyes, Billy tries to reassure him, “Your aunt’s a good lady. She wouldn’t leave you.”

“Who said I thought she would?” It sounds pathetic, wet and stuffy with the remnants of tears he hadn’t known were falling, but there’s a vulnerability he couldn’t hide behind even the toughest of masks that reveals he isn’t being honest.

“The way you watched for her car said enough.” It makes Steve feel exposed, having a total stranger see right through him, but Billy explains himself. “When my momma went out looking for this place, I was sure I’d never see her again.”

“Why did you guys move here?” If he was going to psychoanalyze Steve, he felt it was only fair to ask Billy a pressing question back.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me.” He deflects it back onto Steve in a way that might’ve seemed cocky, but it's obvious he’s just trying to avoid the question.

Steve won’t let him win this one though, maybe just to save his own ego, or pretend like he hadn’t been caught crying by someone he met that morning, or maybe it was just because he had asked first, but he wants Billy to answer, so he tells him, with the slightest hint of a bashful smile playing at his lips, “You first.”

“Stubborn.” He cracks a smile back though, and goes ahead and goes first at the other boys insistence. “My dad’s a real nasty s.o.b. Would get drunk and mean for no good reason, so momma took me and we high-tailed it before he did anything too drastic.”

He didn’t know what he was expecting, why he even felt like it was any of his business, and he doesn’t know what he should say to that.

For lack of a better response, he gives his own little life story summary. “My parents were rich. They didn’t want me, so they have the time of day for me. No matter what I did they punished me for it, grounded me, hit me, sent me to Christian school, until they just got sick of me, I guess.”

“That sounds pretty shitty.” Billy offered.

“Yeah, yours too.”

After a while, Billy, sounding for a moment like he’s a lot wiser than any 14 year old has the right to be, says “What matters is we’re here now.”

Steve feels so touched hearing that. It was so simple a thing for the other boy to say, but coming from Billy after he’d just shared what he did, it means a lot more than just basic condolences.

Hardly anybody had ever been that genuine in anything they said to him. Steve can hardly force a response out of his shocked mouth. As he looks over at Billy’s face, still turned up towards the sky, he sees all that meaning there illuminated by the stars, and he's able to mutter a breathless, “Yeah.” in response.

They both jump when the door flies open, and aunt Margo comes running over to Steve. Frantically she explains that she’d been trying to make sure everything was legal, only to find that some of Steve’s papers were missing, and they had to try to track them all down and get some of them faxed, and it ended up taking way longer than expected.

It feels nice to be understood. Just a few years ago his parents left for what was supposed to be a three day trip to Indianapolis, only they didn’t come back for what was almost two months. Once they were home they didn’t even mention it, just continued going about their business as usual until it was time to leave again. His aunt taking the effort to explain herself was already a vast improvement from that.

He lets her pull him into a big hug, accepts her apology as the air is squeezed out of his lungs, and when he pulls away from her, Billy’s gone.

~~~~~~~

Finish reading on ao3! You can find this posted under the same title by ej_writer or as part of the hwol collection over there! Sorry tumblrs word limits deemed this too long!

#harringrove week of love #billy x steve #harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #story by ej!#this is both a neighbors au and a billy lives with his mother au!#and there's no upside down!#you can also maybe probably read this as autistic billy! it wasnt intentional but that happens sometimes #if its a fluffy fic chances are 90% of the time someones going to end up neurodivergent bc my autstic brain can’t help it #disclaimer I think tumble deleted a paragraph or two from this so if it doesn’t make sense just go ahead and find it on ao3 lol #can y'all tell I've never left the midwest and was sorta just guessing what california is like #the closest experience I had to what I wanted the vibes to be like was growing up on my mawmaws property in the country #and thats deffo not even a little bit the same but hey. work with what ya got!#out of all of the prompts I think this'n turned out to be one of my favorites to write #its kind of all over the place but that's okay lol #lord knows I never intended it to be this long either #this is barely edited because i stayed up literally all night to finish this because I procrastinated it too hard haha

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00gangfriend00 · 4 years ago

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I was tagged by @jade-marie and @bourbon-ontherocks to list my top 10 books fics I read in 2020.

and lemme tell you..

i’ve been WAITIN’ for this one!!

This IS a bit tricky because I spent most of 2020 just lurking on AO3, no acccount, no commenting, no kudos. so there are just so so so many fics that I remember pieces of, and have little headcanons that LIVE with me but I have no idea who the author is or what the fic is called.

so.. that being said, the top 10 is ever changing and could never be fully complete. I just love every author and every fic, you are all so wildly talented.

❤ a song inside the halls of the dark - ms_scarlet (@mego42 )

This fic has everything!! a sexy ex-lover rival gang leader, relaxed rio, angry rio, angsty kitchen sex rio. LOFT rio. AND it’s my favourite post-S2 reckoning of all time. There are moments in this fic that I just want to SPAM the gg writing room with. like scrap ur plans. DO. THIS. Overall, this is such a creative and well-written series. The characterization is superb, the smut has.... so many feelings, and the angst is AMAZING. There are a couple chapters (I wont give spoilers) that involves Beth in a hotel in Canada that I legit could not stop reading. it’s just all... so damn GOOD. favourite line: You thought I could be something, right? Well, this is that something. The bitch you trained bit back.

❤ we’re living in a powder keg and giving off sparks - BourbonOnTheRocks (@bourbon-ontherocks)

Whew! this fic has EVERYTHING. safe house brio. KARMA. brio ignoring each other. snippy, cranky brio. baking shows. mick overhearing loud shower sex. zero communication. brio getting high and giggling! all the feelings. I looooove this fic. like I LOVE it. it's so creative and it feels so real!! I can play it like a movie in my head. There is so much fun smutty build up, so much tension, anxiety and a very, very, good Thaw Of Feelings which is my fav. I will forever have a soft spot for safe house fics, but this one hilariously twists the trope by doubling down on their idiot stubbornness. genius. favourite line: He's using her and she's using him. Maybe it's the only thing they're truly equal at.

❤ my girl - elizabethmarks (not on tumblr?)

This fic has everything!!!!!!! (but TW that everything is not for everyone, as the plot primarily revoles around a rape scene.) This fic sets up some of the most soft, emotional, protective brio moments. I also adore how this author handles the delicate subject matter. I work from time to time as a crisis advcate for women and ...... this fic is so accurate and well written. All the emotions beth feels, the way rio reacts to her. everything. I have read this SO many times. It also inludes a Mick POV that will TUG at your HEART. favourite line: *When on route to Rio’s loft* Rio nods, with that gentle look he has. "Alright, mama. Let's get you home." There's a beat, they both catch it, but neither of them make the correction.

❤ working on things - odenkirk (not on tumblr?)

THIS fic, now this fic has everything!!!!!!!!! masturbation! sexting! weed-smokin horny rio! DEAN?!??! in a way that didnt repulse me???? SEX. kinda threesome??? a heck of a lot of things that I didnt think id be into but then read it and was like HUH, guess i AM. and last but not least, deliciously perfect characterization. This is a fic I ask you to take a risk on. It will pay off. Its fun and oooh soooooooo sexy. Yes, dean goes to pound town too, but I promise- odenkirk makes it WORK. Blush meter: off the charts. I had to put my phone down and reckon with Jesus. favourite line: Rio: Don't get precious, sweetheart. It's you cuz it's you. AHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!

❤ miles before you sleep - FakePlastikTrees (@nakedmonkey)

THIS AUTHOR has EVERYTHING! FakePlastikTrees is one of those authors where... I read one fic - then buckled my seatbelt and clicked on her account so I could systematically read through every. single. fic. They are often short scenes that feel so true. Her Rio characterization makes me green with (benevolent) envy. and her smut?? oof. top notch. This fic in particular lives in my heart because it really truly feels like a missing GG scene between Beth and our favourite tattooed babysitter. The atmosphere is tangible and the author slows time down for these two, it stretches out like you are smokin in the suburbs with them. I love a MickFic and this one is top tier.

favourite line: “Oh come on. He’s a little unhinged.” “Takes one to know one.”

❤ people can be so cold - s_t_c_s (@sothischickshe)

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh this fic has EVERYTHING. scrabble competitiveness! annie speaking truths! christmas beth! christmas rio?!?! delicious bickering! CABIN isolation! gift giving perfection! I could go on and on and on. This fic just pulls you straight in. stcs crafts the timeline so effortlessly, and weaves it with so many endearing and authentic feeling details (beth has her own ‘guys’ now, and we know this bc she gives them sweets and food. OF COURSE) The longing between her and rio is so RICH. if you want your heart to swell a million sizes - this is the fic for you. favourite line: They hadn’t – been intimate yet, back when she got him arrested, or the first few times he’d shoved a gun in her face. And the sexual part had been all done and dusted prior to their, god, kidnapping and shooting fiasco. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t present throughout – a hovering spectre, forming a treacherous spine through all their endeavours.

❤ listening through the air shaft - ms_scarlet (@mego42)

now this fic. actually for real, has everything. because its every POV you never knew you NEEDED. and mego42 absolutely nails each and every one. especially Dean. Its a complicated look into his blubbering sexist mind, and misguided fixations that is really well-written. The way in which brio has their own arc throughout the chapters, but told through the eyes of those around them - is amazing. this fic just makes you love every character even MORE. favourite line: well.. annie, mick and ruby have a group chat and thats all you need to know. anytime that comes up = favourite line.

❤ instigator - nomind (@inyoursheets)

be still my bisexual heart. this fic has everyONE! Yes, this fic dissolves into perfect threesome smut BUT before you get there, you get this awesome set up of a dangerous-feeling connection between Rhea and Beth. They are honest, open and fully acknowledging the fuckedupness of their desire. For how small a part Rhea has in the show - this author NAILS her voice, it’s uncanny. Both of them talking about rio? sign me up. Rio coming home to it? sign me UP. favourite line: “Jesus,” she hears behind her. “What am I looking at right now?” Rhea smiles down on her, ignoring him, running her fingers through Beth’s hair.

** shout out to another be-still-my-bi-heart fic : @sothischickshe’s “its a dirty, dirty, game”

❤ do not pass go - linzackles @mrslackles

this. fic. has. every. thing. I am currently putting every single important thing in my life on hold to PLOUGH through this series. like full speed ahead. UGH. marcus!!! beth and rio at an event! a fancy one! big bad business dudes! betrayal! beth making bad choices! rio unable to fully communicate the weight of his desire for her! angst! just excellent, excellent, excellent plots. i like everything!!!!! favourite line: truly impossible. they are all art. but this one made me cackle. Shrugging, she responds. In the bathroom, eating nuts.Annie’s reply comes through instantly. Rio’s???????

❤ meet me under the mistletoe - sdktrs12 (@sdktrs12)

this fic.... has.... everything. I want to include this not only because I loooOoOOOved it, but also because this author just has a talent for creating holiday themed brio fics that are not in the slightest cheesy, or forced. which is... hard! to! do! I read her halloween series while in quarantine, and it became apart of my little daily routine. each fic containing at least one moment that made me go AHHH these two!!!!! so in short - thanks for infusing all my holidays with stellar brio. then christmas comes around and she nails it again! beth and rio begrudgingly working late? YES. they migh each have a date but they dont DARE talk abut their jealously? YES. Bourbon as a third character? haha YES! Beth looking smokin hot? YES. favourite line: “Is that your move? Meet me under the mistletoe?” “Oh baby, you know my moves.”

and PHEW. there ya go!

Thank you amazing fanfic authors for making my year 10000000% better.

I TAG @whiskeyjack @purplemagic @sdktrs12 @joeyjoeylee @ama-ssiempre @roxy206

#favfics #nbc goodgirls #good girls fic #good girls fandom #top10fics

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may85 · 5 years ago

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Summary: Reader has a rare form of Anemia. Michael does what he can to save her.

Pairing: Michael Morbius x Reader

Movie: Morbius (Summer 2020)

Word Count: 1394

Warnings: None

A/N: SEND in your requests for Morbius!

Y/N Lancaster groaned as she flipped through the channels on tv. It was nothing but daytime soap operas and she was ready to pull her hair out.

"Gah, I'd kill for a good horror movie!" She whined, plopping the controller down next to her.

It sucked being cooped up in a hospital. Her rare form of Anemia had progressed for the worse and now here she lay, not having the strength to get out of bed and walk around.

"Knock, knock," the calming voice of Michael Morbius said, his head peeking in through the door.

"Michael!" Y/N tried her to pull herself up some, but gave up as her arms shook.

"Hey, don't stress yourself. Let me help," Michael placed a bookbag down on a chair and went to Y/N's bed.

He moved around some wires and her IV so not to yank on it and leaned down as if to hug her, "Wrap your arms around me,"

Weakly she did, resting her forehead on his shoulder.

"One, two, three…" he counted.

With a deep breath, she held onto him as he pulled her upward. He gently placed her back down and held hugged her, giving her gentle squeeze.

"I missed you the other day," he said, pulling back.

Y/N smiled. Had she been healthier, she sure she would have blushed. She looked down at her fingers and nodded, biting her lip.

"I missed you too,"

The relationship between Y/N and Michael had started out as just friends, but was slowly turning into something more.

Michael had been given her case by an anonymous staff member at the hospital. He had gone to meet her and after realizing that suffered from a severe form of Anemia, he came to the conclusion that he had to help her.

She was sweet, beautiful and funny as hell. They talked about everything under the sun and had bonded quickly.

It was subtle things; you know the little gestures of affection. Holding hands, which helped because her were always freezing, moving a strand of hair out of her eyes, an arm around her shoulders, a kiss on the cheek; those types of gestures.

"How have they been treating you lately?" He asked her, sitting down at her hip.

She shrugged. There had been an incident with the on call doctor. He had the reputation of being an asshole. No bedside manner what so ever.

He didn't really believe how sick Y/N was and therefore down played a small episode that could have turned worse had the nurse not jumped in after he left the room. Why the hospital took this doctor on was beyond her.

Michael traced her jaw, then gently tilted her head up, "Talk to me,"

The softness of his voice and the serious kindness in his blue eyes made her tear up.

She swallowed thickly, "I- I don't want to be here, Michael. I'd rather be anywhere else than here,"

It was then she started to cry, which caused her to have an episode of her heart palpitating.

Michael glanced at her machines as they beeped and pulled her to him, rubbing her back, "Shhhhh. You need to calm down Sweetheart,"

She hiccupped at the feeling of her heart skipping so many beats.

"C'mon. Take a deep breath and cough," he instructed calmly.

She did as told and repeated the process two more times before she was able to calm down and get her heart back on rhythm.

God she was so tired now… and that was a mild episode.

Michael laid her back, cradling her face.

"Don't leave…"

He leaned down and kissed her forehead, "I'm not. You need to rest okay? I'll be right here when you wake up,"

Her eyes closed as her breathing slowed. Michael pulled the blankets up to her chin and lowered the back of the bed into a more comfortable position.

He was pissed at this doctor for treating Y/N in such a way that was uncalled for. He could feel the rage building, his teeth elongating, the bloodlust reaching an all time high.

He had to calm down though, this was not the way to get her out of the hospital. So doing what was best for them both, he pulled up a chair and sat close to the bed, holding Y/N's hand tightly.

°°°°°°

It was a loud crashing sound that woke Michael from a deep sleep. His body jerked, his heart beating rapidly as he looked around. The bed was empty and the bathroom light was on.

He jumped from his seat and over his backpack, pulling the door open.

Y/N lay on the floor, blood oozing from her head, her IV dispenser knocked over next to her.

"Shit, shit, shit," he chanted, hopping over her and carefully turning her over. Michael checked for a pulse and found it, but she was just barely hanging onto a thread.

Reaching over into the tub, he pulled the emergency string to bring a nurse in. Within seconds one came running in, "What happened?!"

"I don't know. Grab the IV," Michael said, lifting Y/N's body.

As soon as the nurse placed Y/N's feet on the bed, Michael spun around, his eyes turning white as he locked his gaze with the nurse.

She froze, completely under his trance.

"Y/N was signed out earlier today, her anemia cured. This never happened. Now go,"

"Yes. She's fine. Nothing happened," her voice was devoid of any emotion as she turned and left the room.

Blood still seeped from the wound on Y/N's head and Michael knew the clock was ticking. Reaching into his backpack, I pulled out a filled syringe and took the cap off.

He paused for a split second. He knew that Y/N didn't want to die and he most certainly didn't want her to either.

He released the air bubble from the needle and placed it into her IV, injecting the medicine. It was what cured him and he had planned on talking to her about it once she'd woken up, but it was done now and he had to do was wait.

°°°°°°

With a great gasp Y/N's eyes flew open, her chest heaving. She slowly sat up and saw that she was no longer in the hospital.

"Michael?" She called out, her voice cracking.

She took the time to see if she felt any pain and remembered how she had hit her head. She touched the spot where the gash should have been, but to her amazement it wasn't there.

Her body didn't ache, but she felt somewhat drained and wobbly. Almost as if she'd taken a benadryl on an empty stomach.

"Michael?" She called out again, swinging her legs over.

As soon as her feet hit the ground, she heard Michael call out, "I wouldn't do th-"

Her legs gave way as soon as she stood, but with reflexes that were not human like, Michael caught her.

"You have to give yourself some time to adjust, Y/N,"

"Adjust? To what? What's going on, Michael?"

Without a word, he handed her a mirror. She licked her lips and sighed, figuring she looked absolutely horrid.

Her eyes widened when she finally looked at herself. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes no longer sunken in and dull… she looked healthy.

"I gave you a cure… but there are side effects," Michael said, watching her reaction.

"Are you serious?" Y/N asked, her eyes stinging with the onslaught of tears.

Michael nodded as he walked over and sat next to her. Big tears rolled down her cheeks as she turned her body into his.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Michael kissed her head and gently rubbed her back.

"You're welcome, Sweetheart,"

"What are the side effects?" She asked, sniffling.

He sighed, not knowing how she'd take it so he decided to stay vague just to be safe, "Let's just keep you here for a few days and we'll see what could or could not develop, alright?"

Her smile was so big as she hugged him. He grunted from the force of it, but laughed as he kissed her temple.

"Ooops, sorry… I don't know my own strength anymore," she giggled.

Well, that was one box to check off as soon as he'd get her chart.

#jared leto #morbius #michael morbius #jared leto x reader #michael morbius x reader #morbius imagine #may85 writes

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stusbunker · 5 years ago

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What Lingers Within: Seven

A Supernatural Fan-fiction Mini Series

Featuring: Past Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Written for: @thisismysecrethappyplace

Prompt: Amnesia

Word Count: ~4700

Beta’d by the amazing @itmighthavebeenintentional

Aesthetic by @thoughtslikeaminefield

A/N: Set in season 11. Flashbacks are still in italics. Blood and gore, show level violence.

Series Masterlist

^*^*^*^

Every time Dean got the phone call, it hurt. It wasn’t just the leaving, but the wanting to go that ate at him. It was still one of his jobs, and he wasn’t ashamed of it, but leaving her to do it kept getting harder. He tried not to take it out on Bobby, but so was the curse of the messenger. Since Sam was gone, it just hadn’t been the same.

He scribbled the details down as he listened, giving single syllable responses until Bobby was out of intel. He thanked Bobby and said he would keep him posted. She wouldn’t be back from work for another hour. He could make his plans, chart his course and drag his heels so he could say goodbye to her face. Or he could get on the road and figure it out on the way, leaving the worry-masked reassurance in her eyes for another hunt.

When had he become such a coward?

Dean tore a layer off the notepad by the phone, giving her the what and the where. He promised to call her when he stopped for the night. He didn’t bother to sign it. Once he was out the door, the wet spring air filled him with earthy possibility. It was good to be on the move, to go through the motions, the thrill of the hunt beckoning. Dean almost felt good about the case, just like he almost forgot he had someone waiting for him to get home.

^*^*^

Sam must have won because you ended up in Kansas afterall. While you crawled out of their Chevy and into a massive underground garage fitted with some of the oldest cars and motorcycles you had ever seen in person, you didn’t know what came next. Suddenly, hit with the alienness of your surroundings you held your breath, and hoped the blind trust you had in Dean and his brother was enough. That leaving with them had been the right choice.

Sam gave you a half smile and tossed your bag over his shoulder.

“Come on, I’ll show you around.”

You felt Dean watching you with Sam and you couldn’t help but glance back; the furrow in his brow could have been from annoyance but it felt more like a question. A silent check in.

“Yeah, okay, thanks,” you answered Sam before you took a deep breath through your nose and nodded, hoping you weren’t intruding.

The bunker was unlike any place else, part boarding school and part fall out shelter. The size was overwhelming, but the design uniform enough not to be too disorienting. By the time Sam showed you the kitchen Dean was already cooking dinner. Forearms bared and towel over his shoulder he looked completely at ease. The sight of him washed over you, excitement and relief warming you from the outside in. You had no reason for the emotional shift, and yet it felt good, right.

“That smells amazing,” you croaked out, following Sam down the short set of steps.

Dean leaned over the pot to take a whiff. “Yeah, well, it’s just chilli. Can’t screw that up too much. Got a few before it’s done. You get a room yet?”

“Yeah, Sam put me in number 15, I think it was?” You looked to Sam for clarification.

“13,” Sam corrected, which earned him a side eye from Dean.

“Alright, well, go get cleaned up. Just gotta put on the finishing touches.” Dean grabbed bowls off the shelf and you took the hint that he had something to say to Sam. Sam was clearly amused, but he just shrugged off your concern. Cautiously, you turned to climb back out of the room.

A faint ‘really, Sam?!’ reached you down the hall.

^*^*^

You had stuffed yourself on chilli and crackers, having forgotten how long it had been since the burgers at the seedy motel. Dinner wasn’t exactly awkward, but you felt out of place in the conversation which included searching for cases and touching base with other hunters. You tried not to ask too many questions, but if someone were to show up, you wanted to have an idea of who they were to Sam and Dean.

You laid staring at the blank wall, desperate for a show to distract you. The sheets were an old starched cotton, but they were clean. You weren’t falling asleep. It had very little to do with the fact that less than 36 hours before you had suffocated your boss in an abandoned subway service tunnel, and very much to do with the fact that Dean Winchester had entered your life and promptly saved it. Twice.

Once you understood what was the matter, you were suddenly knocking on Dean’s bedroom door. Which, thanks to Sam, was the one next to yours.

He didn’t answer.

Just as the impulsivity drained away, leaving you alone in the cold hallway standing in your comfiest pajamas that weren’t really pajamas, the door opened.

“Everything alright?” Dean asked, headphones tucked around his neck.

Shit. You gaped at his bright eyes, unable to answer him and wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

“I, uh, I don’t know why I bothered you. I’ma go back to bed,” you sputtered. But then he touched you, deft and warm, his palm dragged from the ball of your shoulder to just above your elbow.

“It’s okay. I don’t really sleep after the rough ones either,” Dean murmured, voice soft but deep. You hadn’t realized you had closed your eyes until he leaned closer, the heat of his body melting your bubble until you forgot what personal space meant. “Come on in.”

You felt his hand fall away like a severed lifeline.

You looked around Dean’s room as he wrapped up the impractically long audio cable and put the headphones away. It was almost regimentally clean, but the personal touches made it far more welcoming than your room. Even if most of the decorations were weapons.

“What were you listening to?” You tried for small talk.

“Jethro Tull.” He gave you a nearly bashful smile. Thick as a Brick was one of your favorite albums.

His room was definitely warmer than yours was.

“Is it weird that that makes me happy?” You asked as you plopped into his desk chair.

“Not at all,” Dean reassured before he sat on the edge of his bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “You wanna talk about it?”

He really was that kind. In your experience, guys that looked like Dean were only nice for as long as it was absolutely necessary, but he was the real deal.

“Do you?” You countered, watching as he licked his lips and cocked his head waiting for your explanation. “What if the reason I can’t sleep isn’t guilt or paranoia or --- I don’t know--- trauma?”

“Sometimes there is no rhyme or reason, you know. But something’s on your mind, so spill.” Dean sat up, face insistent, but not angry. Guarded and waiting. You thought about curling up in his lap and letting him play with your hair, longed to burrow your face in his neck and breathe him in. The thought froze and wedged itself inside your ribcage; terrifying because you were bold enough to attempt it. You needed only the slightest push.

“Tell me about how we met, the first time.” Your words made you both blanch, but once they were out, they felt like the best thing you had said all day. “Please?”

Dean looked at you like you were asking for a kidney, and he was considering doing it without anesthesia.

He stood up suddenly and pushed up the sleeves on his thermal. “Okay, yeah. That’s fair.”

He walked to his dresser and dragged open the top drawer while you waited for him to continue. He pulled out a handful of old photos and sat back on the bed. He started leafing through them until he found the one he was looking for, he flicked it around in his fingers toward you like he was handing out a business card.

“That one’s gotta be the earliest picture of us I’ve got. I ran into you after a quick salt-and-burn, Sam had ditched me for this, well, evil skank and I was feeling sorry for myself and pisssed at him and the only thing that kept me from starting a bar fight that night was the way you were eying me. Like I was some puzzle and not a loose canon. Anyway, this was taken about a month later. I weaseled my way back to town and somehow convinced you to grab a cup of coffee after your shift.”

You looked down at the photo, the booth was covered in cut out construction paper hearts. Your hair was longer and you looked like a deer in headlights in the photo, but what made you do a double take was the way Dean was grinning. You couldn’t believe how young you both seemed.

“Like an idiot, I had forgotten it was the weekend after Valentines, but the lady who ran the diner insisted on taking pictures of each of the couples that came in,” Dean explained.

The flash had muddled the fluorescents, but you had known those old metal rimmed tables and maroon vinyl booths anywhere. “This looks like the inside of Ma’s Table,” you whispered.

“Yeah, we were like the last people to show up before closing, but they took care of us.” Dean searched your face.

“What?”

He gave you a sad smile. “I guess I was hoping something would click and I’d get you back. Like if I hit the right memory, all of yours would suddenly resurface or something.”

You felt a shiver run down your back. You forced yourself to swallow. He wanted you back. “Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I mean, it’s my fault anyhow.” Dean cleared his throat and looked back to the stack of pictures in his hands, avoiding eye contact as you both composed yourselves.

Then you did something very stupid. You took two crouching steps over to the bed to settle yourself beside him, and looked over his shoulder at the next photo. “You could still keep telling me about them. Can’t hurt, right?”

Dean hummed, not in disagreement, but at your poor choice of words.

“Sam took this one at Bobby’s. Bobby, uh, was like a second dad to us. Lived up in Sioux Falls,”

“Like Jody?”

“Like Jody, yeah, uh, she’s the sheriff and he was supposedly the town drunk,” Dean chuckled. “Best person to go to for intel, one of those tough as steel, but soft on the inside type guys.”

“Hmmm, sounds like someone else I know,” you purred, before plucking the creased photograph out of Dean’s grasp. Dean was hauling you around a junkyard on piggyback. You couldn’t remember doing that since you were a kid. By the look on your face in the photograph you were either terrified or shocked by it, Sam had snapped the shot at just the right moment. You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Oh my god, what were you thinking?!” You reprimanded.

“I was giving you the tour, but you were SO TIRED from the trip up there you didn’t want to walk,” Dean sassed back.

“Okay, that sounds like me,” you admitted.

“Uh-huh,” Dean huffed. “You know I can’t stop thinking about before. Not just the times I have pictures of, but how much you helped me. Sam was gone, for awhile, everyone thought he was dead and, uh, you helped me pull my head out of the bottle. You were so good for me.”

As much as his honesty dripped through your resolve like honey, it left a nasty after taste.

“But not good enough to keep around?” You didn’t try to hold back.

“It wasn’t like that. I, uh, I left before the thing with the demons and Cas wiping you.” Dean turned to face you, dragging one knee onto the bed that brushed your hip before he buried his stocking foot under his other leg. “We had already broken up.”

“What happened?” You asked, surprised, without any judgement.

“I’m the job, Y/N. I am not built for stability or a cookie cutter happily-ever-after. Sam came back from the dead wrong, long story, and I used him as an excuse. But honestly, I had already started checking out. I was using hunts like a junky uses drugs. Hiding from you because I knew there was more wrong with me and I didn’t want to bring that home to you.”

You hugged your knees, body completely on his bed, and let that revelation settle into what you knew about Dean and the timeline of your relationship. “But then why was I still on some demons’ radar?”

Dean sighed and rubbed his temple. “Because I kept tabs on you. I checked in, every so often, just make sure you were safe.”

“You watched me?” You balked. “You know that sounds really fucked up, right?”

“Yeah, well, I’m paranoid, so sue me. You do this long enough and you will be too.” Dean deflected.

You let that hang in the air. He hunched back over the remaining pictures, hands tense and shoulders tight. You didn’t want to fight, you just wanted answers. “Kind of a self-fulfilling prophecy then? You were worried about me, so you came back, and the demons found out you did and only then they attacked.”

Dean pursed his lips, ruefully. “Sounds about right.”

“But you were able to stop them,” you offered.

“Yeah, after you almost killed Sam,” Dean corrected.

“You still saved me.” You looked down at your hands. “That’s like three times, just that I know about. I’d say I owe you.”

“Honey, you don’t owe me shit,” Dean cupped your cheek, drawing your gaze to his. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you saved me from myself. We ain't even, but you're not the one in the red, you hear?”

You reached up and held his hand to your face, soaking in the steady strength of his palm.

“Is that why you’re letting me stay here?” You held your breath.

Dean looked away and whispered, “You know why we brought you home.” Then he pulled his hand back to grip the edge of the mattress.

“Because I’m a fugitive?” You broke the tension with ease, letting your legs fall into lotus pose. “You usually consort with wanted criminals?”

Dean shook his head and smirked. “Kind of par for the course. All our friends are either cops or criminals, and I’m usually playing cop.”

“Probably not the best time to make a handcuff joke, but I so want to!” You laughed.

“Oh, I bet you do,” Dean sighed and scratched the side of his head with his free hand. “Here, you can have these to look at, maybe something will click for you. But I’d like them back, when you’re done.”

You gently added the pictures to the two already in your hand. “Thanks.”

It felt like the time to go back to your room; looking over Dean’s memories without any recollection or context would possibly be harder for him to watch than it was for you to decipher.

You unfurled yourself from Dean’s bed and made your way to the door. Dean met you halfway, showing you out. Just as you had stepped into the hall, he had more to say.

“Look, I know when I talked about taking you to Jody’s, that wasn’t exactly rolling out the welcome mat, but I am glad you’re here.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks for having me.”

“See you in the morning, Y/N.” Dean sent you off with a little salute.

Luckily, you remembered there was most of a six pack left from dinner. You quietly helped yourself to the remainders before settling into the lonely bed in the appallingly generic room once more. You rifled through the pictures, determined to find something you could recall. Something significant enough to make everything spill out of the recesses of your mind.

But nothing changed, it was obviously you in each one, with Dean at your side in most of them. You were happy, of course you were, no one takes pictures of arguments or tears. But more so, you were happy together.

It was surreal seeing the span of the relationship in the half dozen pictures; understanding time’s progress by the small nuances of split lips or hair cuts or changing seasons. There was one taken in the apartment Dean had mentioned you shared, you had broken your leg and presumably Dean had taken the picture of you from the cast up.

Then you came to the last photo, one with Sam and Dean wedging you between them. You were laughing, but also making the most obvious goo goo eyes at Dean. You wondered who snapped the picture of you all on the trunk of the impala. You still owned the boots you had been wearing.

Eventually, your eyes zeroed in on the shirt Dean wore beneath his jacket, the same two toned flannel that you were wearing as a pajama top. The one that you always wore when you sought comfort, the one that was so ratty you should have thrown out ages ago. The one you couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of.

You gulped down the rest of your beer before setting the pictures onto the desk. You might not have any memories of Dean, but something inside of you certainly had held onto feelings for him. Feelings you didn’t know how to process anymore. With a heavy sigh you let yourself try and sleep them off.

^*^*^

Her smile turned into a snarl as it made her slam the knife into Sam’s gut, black eyes never leaving Dean’s face, drinking in his agony.

Dean’s voice cracked, but he kept reciting the exorcism, plowing through it even though he was frozen in place by the demon’s mental strength. It laughed, ruthless and ragged, almost a bark as she started to cough it up.

“Oh, Dean,” it tutted. “Too little too late.”

Then it turned the knife on her.

Time stopped, but Dean only hesitated for a moment, long enough for the blade to pierce right below her collar bone. Without even realizing he had been released, Dean lurched forward, final words shouted with all the fury and fear he had in him.

She fell to the ground before he could catch her, blood soaking through her shirt. He snatched the knife from her hand to try and temper the bleeding. Dean carefully wiggled them over to Sam, and as he held both of their wounds closed, he prayed for a miracle.

Dean knew the feel of blood as well as he knew the wear of the leather of Baby’s interior; opposite poles of familiarity. He was caked in the life that drained away from those he loved, and yet he could only see his own failure. He wouldn’t let go, he couldn’t, but he needed help and if the angel couldn’t answer him, maybe something more mundane could.

He closed his eyes and removed his hand from her shoulder, whispering his apologies as he searched for his phone. Her name was both a plea and a reminder, the hope and the loss oozing from him as thickly as the blood filled Sam’s belly.

Dean’s fingerprints smeared against the numbers, but then a deep voice stopped him middial.

“Dean? What happened?” Cas materialized before Dean hit send.

^*^*^

You slept through lunch, starting your first full day in the Wincehsters’ home groggy but steady on your feet. You told yourself that you had been reading too much into the feelings Dean’s memories had elicited. You were just empathetic and probably emotionally strung out over the whirlwind of the past couple weeks. You clearly couldn’t be in love with the man. No matter how kind, or handsome he was. He was essentially an acquaintance, no longer a stranger, but not yet a friend.

A savior, not the solution.

You found both Dean and Sam in the library, feet up and heads down, like a pair of flannel clad bookends. It was quite the picture, two well built guys studiously pouring through books for their next case. It made sense, but it also was such a specific level of hot that you definitely had to swallow before you could make your presence known.

“Hey, sorry, I guess I needed sleep more than I thought,” you offered, shrugging as you approached the massive table that had been covered with materials and laptops.

“Don’t sweat it,” Dean replied. “You eat? There’s some leftover chili, but we just had sandwiches for lunch. If you want, I can fry you up a grilled cheese?”

“Nah, it’s fine, I’ll make myself a sandwich. Thanks.” You brushed off Dean’s enthusiasm.

After preparing it, you trudged back to the library, plate in one hand, and a strong cup of tea in the other. You pulled a chair up to the clearest side of their work space and set up camp.

“What are you looking for?” You asked honestly, head tilted as you eyed the gold foiled title of the book in Sam’s hand.

“Uh, we’re looking into an entity known as the Darkness. It was originally locked away by God before the Earth was created, but it's now loose. So, we’re looking for weaknesses or ways to trap it again,” Sam explained tentatively.

“You’re trying to do something that God did originally?” You clarified.

“What Sam isn’t saying is that, we let her out. So, it’s on us to put her back,” Dean broke in.

“Her?” You felt suddenly out of your depth.

“Yeah, she’s actually God’s sister. Kind of a light and dark thing, we think,” Sam continued. “She goes by Amara.”

You didn’t miss the cringe that Dean tried to hide at the name, which meant that Sam definitely caught it as well.

After a few minutes of heavy silence you couldn’t help but ask, “How would one manage to let out an ancient dark power?”

“Very stupidly.” Dean sighed, not looking up from his book.

You finished your food and started to idly peruse the books stacked between you and Sam. You tried not to smile when you caught one of the brothers’ now familiar silent conversations. You didn’t have anywhere else to be, the least you could do was try and give them a little help in return. If they had a problem with it, they’d have to actually say it out loud.

They didn’t stop you.

A day turned into three, which became a full week of navigating their process for research, which started after Sam’s morning runs and ebbed off before Dean’s afternoon tinkering. You added yourself into their unofficial cooking rotation, not exactly acing their gas range, but managing to feel like you were close to earning your keep.

Dean always offered to do the dishes on your cooking nights.

You stayed back to help dry, preferring to work beside him, even in near silence, than retreat to your room early. Sam had found you an old laptop to stream on, so you had something to distract you from the barren walls and the slowly increasing nightmares. But that night the next season could wait, especially when there was Old Spice and the grounding grumble of Dean’s voice.

“Hey now, you with me?” Dean asked, waving his sudsy hand in front of your unfocused stare.

Your face burned, but you managed to smile through it. “Yup,” popping the ‘p’.

“You know you haven’t said anything about the pictures since your first night here,” Dean tried to be casual about bringing it up.

“Yeah, I guess I was waiting to see if anything came back,” you admitted.

“And?”

You turned to face Dean, his hands gripping the edge of the sink, leaning down so he was at your height. He knew by the apologetic look on your face and you could see his disappointment before he could fully retreat from the vulnerability.

“How’d I break my leg?” You took a plate from the rack, spinning it carefully in the towel as you waited for him to let you back in.

“You know I’m not exactly sure, you never gave up the whole story,” Dean licked his lips and shook his head. “I came back from a hunt and you were hobbling around with only one crutch. Somehow managed to get yourself to the hospital and home, even though I know they don’t let you drive with a cast. I think you were trying to either hang up new curtain rods or you fell up the back steps bringing them home. Because they were left in the trash, still in the plastic. But you insisted you ditched the old curtains to let in all the natural light you could.”

By the end of the story you were both giggling. It nearly made sense and yet it was so funny to hear how he figured it out despite your stubborn pride keeping you from admitting you had hurt yourself doing something stupid. Or presumably stupid.

“That’s why you took the shame photo? Because you needed physical proof I am a spaz?” You teased.

“Honey, I don’t need proof, we both know you are alive by sheer dumb luck at this point,” Dean taunted back.

You held up your towel in mock surrender. “Touche, but also? Too soon.”

“Oh come on, I wasn’t even talking about that!” Dean huffed in exasperation. You defiantly jutted out your chin, and snapped your hand closed like a mouth shutting. He rolled his eyes, before he suddenly splashed you with a gush of dirty dishwater. You squealed and swatted blindly at him.

Dean caught you at your waist, tugging the towel from your hand so he could wipe your face clean. You slowly stopped struggling in his hold, relaxing against his firm chest before you opened your eyes to see him looking back at you with nothing short of adoration.

Oh god, what were you doing?

You stood there, in Dean’s arms, for mere moments, but they felt like a lifetime. A lifetime where you had never been stripped of your past and he had never had to choose your life over his happiness. A lifetime you wanted desperately to relive.

“Sorry.” Dean released you. “I got the rest, you can hit the shower, don’t want you to catch cold.” He motioned to your half soaked tee and you nodded, rubbing your upper arm as if the suggestion of a drop in temperature had given you goosebumps and not the separation from his warm embrace.

“Backing out when you started it, real smooth,” you threw at him, walking backwards out of the kitchen.

Dean sighed and snipped back, “Would you watch where you’re walking, please?! I don’t want to have to drag your ass to the infirmary already.”

You couldn’t help but smirk, with your tongue firmly planted in your cheek, as you spun expertly on the ball of your foot before heading up the steps.

The smug high from your banter melted away with the pelting shower, the reality that you were needlessly toying with a man’s emotions sank into your every pore. You were not the woman he remembered, and you still didn’t completely know who Dean Winchester was or had become in the meantime. You needed to cool it.

An hour later, you restarted the same episode for the third time, because you could not focus on the new character’s introduction long enough to figure out why they were relevant. Couldn’t your mind just shut up?!

You don’t know where it came from, but slowly you realized you were speaking aloud, not to yourself, but to the angel you had yet to officially meet. You were praying, each word ripping something inside of you the moment it left your lips.

“Please let me remember him. Let me be who he needs me to be. Let him see me as I am and not only who he lost. Castiel, if you can’t fix my memories, then even the score, take me from his. Give me even footing or let him have a fresh start, too. Please, help me. Help us?”

^*^*^

Series tags: @tiggytaylor @vicmc624 @kalesrebellion

General SPN tags: @flamencodiva @dolphincliffs @dontshootmespence @thoughtslikeaminefield @fangirlxwritesx67 @dawnie1988 @mrswhozeewhatsis @cosicas-cuquis @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @defenderrosetyler @ericaprice2008 @princessofthefandomrealm @wingedcatninja

^*^*^

Read on: Chapter Eight

#supernatural fanfiction #what lingers within #dean winchester fanfiction #dean wincehster x reader #dean angst #amnesia #blood #demon possession #dean x reader #spn reader insert #spn fanfic #dean winchester fanfic #dean fic

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transcendence-au · 4 years ago

Note

r!Pacifica tricks Dipper into running a booth at a TwinCon. He comes across an r!Mabel and an r!Henry who meet at his booth. (Also, brownie points if it’s a Mizcor booth)They both talk about how much they love Alcor and want to date him, and Dipper helps them realize that the traits they’re projecting onto ‘Alcor’ are actually traits they can find in each other. SO WOODZAR HAS BLOSSOMED IN THE PLACE OF MIZCOR

Mod F got really excited about this and ended up writing a thing! (Here it is on AO3 too)

===

Dipper looked toward the entrance of the convention center, at the large banner proudly proclaiming “WELCOME TO TWINCON 2896″, and slammed his head face-first onto the table.

Damn Aubrey. Damn her to the deepest pits of the Nightmare Realm for making him run a booth at TwinCon. He couldn’t believe he’d let himself get taken in by her evil tricks and wily ways; couldn’t believe he made a bet with her and lost. That was the last time he trusted Pacifica’s soul. And he totally meant it this time! Way more than the last eight times Aubrey had tricked him. He definitely wasn’t going to immediately go back to being friends with her. This was the last straw.

A loud creak announced the opening of the main con doors, and the room was quickly filled with a flurry of excitement. Dipper picked his head off the table with a sigh and prepared himself for a long day of peddling garbage. He considered how he must look – a sad demon sitting under a sign reading “MICOR MEMORABILIA” and surrounded by perverse figurines, body pillows, and graphic novels.

And then his curiosity got the better of him. He conjured a mirror in his hand and immediately noticed his top hat was askew, so he reached up to straighten it out. Perfect. He actually looked pretty good that day if he did say so himself. His hair was fluffy, his suit was pressed, his teeth looked sharp. Nice and presentable. He was so busy making faces in the mirror that he almost forgot he was at a convention, until -

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Ack!” Dipper yelped in surprise, his hat shooting high into the air. Despite this, he didn’t take his eyes off the mirror. “What do you want?”

“I hope I didn’t frighten you! You’ve got some lovely merch here. I was just wondering how much this comic would cost.”

“Check the price tag,” he responded gruffly.

“I- I tried, but it doesn’t look like there is one.”

Groaning, Dipper flicked his eyes away from his own beautiful reflection so he could see exactly what depraved nonsense the voice wanted to purchase, and -

Mizar smiled sweetly back at him.

The mirror shattered in his hand. Oh no. Oh no no no no no. This wasn’t happening. Why was she here? What was going on?

“I’ve heard about this series before,” he suddenly realized Mizar was saying, “but I never had the chance to check it out before. It’s a coffee shop AU, right? It’s so inspiring that fans can take the framework of Twin Souls and make even more beautiful stories based off of it.”

Dipper’s head was too filled with buzzing to really make much sense of what she was saying. All he could think about was how his sister’s soul was apparently a fan of the worst book series in the universe. It didn’t even seem like she was doing it as a gag like Mabel did – the girl in front of him was radiating nothing but enthusiasm and sincerity in her aura.

“Oh, I’ve read that!” another voice piped in. “It’s dope as fuck, although the first volume’s got a bit of a Woodzar focus. But if you can power through that, it’s high key Micor there on out.”

Okay okay okay. He could do something about this. Maybe he’d take Mizar aside and have a talk with her about why being a Twin Souls fan was a sin of the highest calibre. Dipper tore his eyes away from her for a moment to tell the newcomer to go away, but no sooner did he get a good look at them than he felt all the air kicked out of his imaginary lungs.

“Don’t get me wrong, man,” Henry’s soul continued, a sly look on her face. “Woodzar is a fine ship. There’s a lot of good Woodzar fic out there and I don’t fault anyone for writing it. But if we’re gonna be honest with ourselves, it’s pretty obvious that Alcor and Mizar belong together. Their romantic chemistry is off the goddamn charts. Remember when they finally kissed in the first novel? Oh, fuckin’ heart palpitations, man.”

The blood drained from Dipper’s face. What in the world was happening? Why were Mizar and Henry both Twinners? What was the universe punishing him for this time??

“I know, right?” Mizar replied with a giggle. “My name’s Minty, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”

Henry’s soul grinned back. “Halley. Nice to meet you too. I knew coming to this con would be a good idea – it’s the perfect place to find like minded people.”

“What about you?” Minty asked, and it took Dipper a minute – so embroidered was he in querying his omniscience to see exactly what traumatizing thing had happened to Minty and Halley that made them turn out this way – to realize that she was talking to him.

“I, uh, I’m… not a… Micor is bad,” he said finally.

Halley frowned. “What, don’t you love Alcor too? You’re running a booth at TwinCon and your cosplay is on-point! That suit must’ve been expensive, and the wings look almost real!”

Puffs of steam shot out from Dipper’s ears and he flared his wings. “It’s not a cosplay, I just look like this! And I’ll have you know that I would’ve never in a million years gone to a TwinCon if my friend Aubrey hadn’t pretended to be really bad at hula hooping and then made a bet with me that she could beat me in a hula hoop contest and then absolutely kicked my ass into the stratosphere with her nutty good hooping! Graggh!” He slammed his forehead into the table again.

“Awwww,” Minty cooed. “Stage fright is the worst. I know I sure was nervous the first time I went to a con in full cosplay. That was awful nice of your friend to convince you to go anyway!”

Dipper’s head shot up and he stared slack-jawed at the two of them just as Halley nodded. “You’ve got this man, you know? Like I said, your outfit kicks ass. And hey, thanks for opening up to us. That can’t have been easy.”

“B- but I- you WHAT-” Dipper stammered.

Minty squeaked and clapped her hands together. “Yeah! I feel like I’ve made some great friends at this con already.”

“I’m- n- no you’re WILDLY mistaken- this isn’t-”

Both Halley and Minty turned their backs to the increasingly flustered demon and leaned against the stall, looking off into the rest of the hall with pensive expressions. “Friends are nice,” Halley murmured, “but what I wouldn’t give to meet Alcor at this convention. He’s everything I want in a partner. And then I wouldn’t be so lonely anymore.”

Minty put her hand on Halley’s shoulder. “I know what you mean! He’s so confident and protective. Loyal to a fault. If Alcor was here, I’d ask him on a date!”

“What makes you think Alcor wants to date any of you humans?” Dipper grumbled. “Or anyone at all?”

“Don’t be such a pessimist, man!” Halley responded. She patted Dipper on the back, surprising him into coughing out a little cloud of yellow sparkles. “Alcor is real and he’s out there. As long as there’s the smallest spark of hope that he might love me back, I’ll follow him to the ends of the Earth!”

Minty slapped her forehead, startling Dipper out of the silent terror written all over his face. “Oh, duh! He’s cosplaying as Alcor because he’s here to find his Miiiizar! That’s why he’s not interested in Alcor’s love! I connected the dots!”

“No, you haven’t connected anything!” Dipper tried to cut in, terror returning in full force because the situation was spiralling rapidly out of control, but Minty kept going.

“Ah, if only I was Mizar,” she trilled as Dipper watched her soul dance traitorously in her chest. “Then it’d only be a matter of time before Alcor came to ask me out. We’d go to the coffee shop he works at and someone would cover his shift. I’d get a hot chocolate; he, an iced latte.” She sat on the table, sending a set of Mizar action figures toppling over onto Dipper’s lap. “I’d tell him all about how art school’s going and he’d confide in me some dark secrets about how the 2801 moon landing was faked because giant aliens were playing golf with the planets and accidentally knocked the moon into a black hole. And then, finally, he’d give me a dainty kiss on the cheek, and I’d make a little squeaky noise, yknow, and he’d blush and ask me if it was alright for him to do that, and then I’d say I’d rather you kiss me on the lips instead. And then -”

“Okay, I think I’ve heard enough of your fanfiction!” Dipper shouted, cheeks going completely scarlet, claws making deep gashes in the table from how tightly he was gripping it. “I didn’t- I’ve never- No one needed to hear that, it’s- I feel lightheaded.”

“I know what you mean, man,” Halley spoke up, an obvious wobble to her tone. Dipper and Minty looked up to see her staring off into the distance, eyes red and puffy, hands crossed over her heart. “I’m feeling it too. That was so beautiful, Minty, you sure as hell have got a way with words. And yknow, I- I work in a coffee shop, actually. I’d totally take Alcor there. We’d talk and laugh – damn, he’s gotta just have the most heartwarming laugh in the world – and I’d straight up offer right there on the spot to be his Mizar. I wanna protect the world, but I also wanna protect him, I know he’s got a sensitive side, I just know it. I’d chew steel for him.”

No no no no. This had to stop. Mind racing, Dipper struggled to find something they’d said to latch onto. “Hey, uh, Minty!” he interrupted. “You like coffee shops, right? Halley… works in one! You should go there with her. Instead of being here.”

“That’s a great idea!” Minty squealed. “We should all meet up for coffee after the convention!”

“No!” Dipper blurted. “I meant, you two should go. Together. Without me.” All he got in return was blank stares. He ran his hand through his bangs nervously. “Listen, Minty, Alcor doesn’t work at a coffee shop, because no one in the country will hire him. His claws make awful screeching noises on the mugs, and also he’s a demon. But Halley does work at a coffee shop. Maybe… there’s something there?”

Minty and Halley traded glances. “I don’t understand,” the former finally said.

Dipper facepalmed. “Okay. How about… Halley, you want to protect Alcor. That’s ridiculous, he doesn’t need protecting, he has so much magic. But Minty goes to art school, she probably needs someone to, I dunno, support her during tight deadlines. That’s like… mental health protection.”

Minty shrugged. “I guess that sounds nice…”

“And, uh, Minty, you want someone who’s loyal, which sounds to me like what you really need is a dog, not a romantic partner, and I’m not- Alcor is not a dog. Also, again, he’s a demon, he’s only loyal to himself. But if you’re really set on getting that kind of loyalty and trust from a sentient creature, well, Halley’s offered to chew steel for love.”

“Hey man, don’t put words in my mouth, I said I’d chew steel for Alcor,” Halley countered, putting her hands on her hips and staring Dipper down. After a moment, though, she looked back at Minty, who had a starstruck look on her face, and drew back. “I- I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like you Minty. I just don’t want to be alone anymore. How can I trust someone other than Alcor not to get tired of me?”

“Kinda toxic, but also big mood,” Dipper muttered. “Trust isn’t something you can or even should have for people you don’t know. Not just for romance – in any kind of relationship, trust is something you build up through getting to know someone. I should know; there’ve been so many times when I made the mistake of trusting someone – say, not to snuggle body pillows with half naked pictures of me on them – without even knowing them, just because of my preconceived notions about who those people are. Relationships are always a risk, but they’re worth it when they work out. You’ll miss out if you’re too afraid to take that risk.”

He beamed at them, extremely proud of his little speech he’d managed to pull together. Minty and Halley stared back, mouths agape, probably blown away by his emotional maturity.

Then they launched themselves at each other and started furiously making out.

“Oh my stars!” Dipper yelled, recoiling from the mass of flailing limbs. “You literally just met each other! Go get a coffee or something first, holy shit!”

They broke apart, faces red but grinning. “Wow,” Minty breathed.

“Yeah. Wow,” Halley echoed. “Um, would you maybe want to walk around the convention with me? And maybe go get some coffee together afterward? I do work at a coffee shop nearby.”

Minty squealed again and grabbed Halley’s hands. “That sounds wonderful!”

“Yo, dude,” Halley said to Dipper, who was clutching his chest and hyperventilating. “Thanks for the advice. You’ve got some dope emotional maturity. Your friends are lucky to know you.”

Dipper, still trying to calm down, opened his mouth to make some words and only managed to emit a weak gurgle. He settled for giving them a nod.

The two of them started to walk away, but Minty paused and turned back. “Oh wait. We never got your name.”

“I’m Alcor the Dreambender,” Dipper grunted without a second’s pause. “Go away.”

Halley laughed. “Sure you are. You’re really committed to the character, I love it! Maybe we’ll see you around.”

Dipper gave them a strangled half-smile and waved them off, to which they finally made their departure. Finally alone, he collapsed onto the table out of exhaustion. He was relieved that he’d managed to turn Mabel and Henry’s souls away from being Micor shippers, but after a few minutes of lying there the reality of what he’d just done started to sink in.

“Oh stars, I just shipped my sister and her husband,” he moaned. “What is my life. Please, universe, let me get through the rest of the day without anything else happening. Please.”

Naturally, someone immediately started talking to him. “Yo, sleeping guy, wake up.”

“Whatever it is, please just use the credit card swiper and move on,” he responded.

“Dude, what swiper. Help me out.”

With a groan, Dipper picked his head up, and then he froze, his every hair standing on end like a terrified cat.

“This body pillow rocks,” Soos’s soul said, hugging one of the models that had both Alcor and Mizar on it, half naked and blushing. “You gotta hook me up.”

“Ohhhh, I have that pillow! You won’t regret it!” came another voice, and Dipper looked over to see Melody’s soul walking up to the table. “You’ve got good taste. Micor forever, am I right? Bro, there’s some really good smutfic I could recommend you if you’re interested.”

Dipper slid out of his chair and curled up into a ball under the table. “Damn you Aubrey,” he whispered. “I’ll fucking get you back for making me do this.”

(As it turned out, giving Aubrey a dream about being stuck at a convention where everyone was attracted to her did not adequately “get back” at her, and it was a full week before she stopped laughing about it.)

#fic #dipper #mabel #henry #pacifica #soos #melody #reincarnation #twin souls #mod f #Anonymous

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diary-of-deadweight · 5 years ago

Note

Hey! I saw your post about Wyatt! Can you do Wyatt x zed? Featuring wyatts fangs? If you don’t want to that’s fine just ignore this! 💜

I’ll give it a shot but I apologise if Zed is hella occ.

Zed Necropolis/ Necrodopolus x Wyatt Lykensen. (Wyatt can be bi or pansexual, I’m leave that up to y’all cuz I couldn’t decide.)

“Do my fangs look clean enough to you?”

“Wyatt stop being a worry wolf they look fine,” Willa rolled her eyes at her brother from the doorway to the bathroom while Wynter just snickered at the beta who was furiously flossing his fangs that the flimsy material broke in half making Wyatt growl before throwing it away and exiting the bathroom to throw on his fur collared vest.

“Why are you making such a big deal out of all this?”

Wyatt turned to his sister with a smirk “cuz I’m going to woo Zed, so I gotta look my best for this occasion.” Willa shook her head at her brothers antics before leaving him to his own devices before they had to make their way to start another drawn out day at school. It had been some time since Zed and Addison had mutually spilt from one another as Zed discovered that he is gay and Addison found herself busy with leading the cheer squad whilst falling for a vampire exchanged student from Vlad’s Hollow called Valentina Suckublood.

(Shit last name I know I tried to pull something but it didn’t work.)

Wyatt had been pinning over Zed for a while now, well mainly from the moment he saw him but refused to do anything about it as he looked happy with Addison that he decided to stare at him longingly from afar instead. He wanted him to be happy even if it meant his heart suffering the consequences of unrequited love.

But what he doesn’t know is that currently Zed was planning to confess to HIM with the help of Addison and her new girlfriend Valentina, Eliza and Bonzo within a zombie safe room, not the ideal place to confess your love to someone but they couldn’t find a vacant classroom that they didn’t have many options left as to where they should go so the safe room was better then nothing.

“Do I look green? Greener then usual?” Zed asked the group as he turned to them, nervously fiddling with the sign he spent all night on making sure whatever he written upon it didn’t sound and or come off as cringey...or unless Wyatt was into cringey cute things?? Ugh never mind, no backing out now Necropolis you already came this far to let it all go to waste.

“You look great Zed.” Addison reassured with a smile while Valentina gave him a thumbs up and a curt nod. “Zebe du blar” Bonzo smiled at his friend who clapped his hand on the broad zombies shoulder in thanks, “you don’t look stupid that’s for sure.” Eliza shrugged nonchalantly as Zed just shook his head at her bluntness but appreciates it none the less as a compliment.

“Allright does everyone know what their doing?i don’t wanna look like an absolute fool in front of...Wyatt.” Eliza snorted, “don’t worry we know exactly what we’re doing, you’ve got nothing to be anxious over it’s going to go fine-“

“What if he doesn’t like me? What if he’s not into guys?”

“Zed, Wyatt’s been out as Pansexual/Bisexual for sometime now, I’m sure that’s not the case and if he doesn’t like that’s his loss.” Addison reassured her friend with a smile as Eliza pointed to her as if to say ‘you see? All is good.’

Zed sighs, hand over heart, “ I’m sorry it’s just...I like him you know...he’s the first guy I ever took a liking to..”

“Bleub dubsd tickat.” Bonzo tilted his head confused as Eliza nodded her head, “he’s not the first guy you took a liking to, remeber Zachary?”

Zed made a disgusted face, “He turned out to be homophobic, Zombie supremacist Eliza, that would’ve ended messy.”

“Guys lover boys wolf is coming down the hall right now.” Valentina called from the doorway, everyone looked to Zed for the go ahead, “this is happening sooner then I thought but sooner is better, Addison, Valentina go get him,” they nodded and rushed out of the door, “Eliza, Bonzo you know what to do,” they nodded their heads as they went to get the confetti that were tucked within the corner of the room while Zed gave himself a pep talk as he got into position, his heart beat off the charts and his hands slightly clammy.

“You can do this, you can do this, you can do this. You are Zed Necropolis, star footballer of Seabrook high, a proud Zombie and an absolute gay disaster.” He chanted this over and over again under his breath until the door opened and a confused Wyatt waltzed through the door, Zed nodded to Eliza and Bonzo who threw handfuls of confetti that made him jump several feet into the air which only made him more cuter in Zed’s eyes as he made the choice to make himself known to the wolf by chuckling at him.

“What’s all this for Necropolis?” Wyatt asked as the door to the zombie safe room closed behind him and they were the only ones in the room, Zed grabbed the sign that laid against his claves, shown it to him as he read it and re-reads it again beofre looking up at the zombie in front of him with the biggest smile the slim, lanky zombie had seen, his fangs on full display made it all the more cuter.

“So this is what you wanted me for?”

Zed scratched the back of his head sheepily, “Yeah,” he looked into Wyatt’s hazel eyes nervous of heat his answer would be, “so...what do you say?”

“Hmmm let me think about it..” Wyatt faked a thinking pose for a bit before pouncing on Zed with a tight hug, taking the zombie off guard that they were sent tumbeling to the ground ungracfully, laughing about it for a bit before composing themselves again, Wyatt lifted his head from Zed’s chest to look him in the eyes as he did the same.

“ to answer your question Zed,” he pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, being mindful of his fangs so he cut the lanky zombie, pulling back to see Zed red in the face.

“Wow your beet red! It’s cute on you Zed.” He winked at him beofre getting off of him when the bell rang out for class, “come on before we get in trouble with the teacher for being late.”

Zed didn’t say anything but accept the hand Wyatt gave him before they walked out of the room, wyatt turned to his boyfriend with a raised eyebrow, “ You alright cutie?” He hip bumped him as Zed only said “yeah never better, just can’t believe this is real, I mean is it real? Am I just dreaming all this?”

Wyatt intertwined their hands together, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek, “is that real enough for ya?”

“Oh most definitely.”

#zed necropolis #zed necrodopolus #zombies #wyatt lykensen #wyatt zombies #disney zombies #disney zombies 2 #wyatt x zed #zombies 2

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need-a-fugue · 4 years ago

Text

You Belong to Me

A ghost story, if you will... Written for @wonderlandmind4‘s Fall Winter Writing challenge. I know this is in well before the deadline, but it felt like it needed to be read on Halloween.

The prompt? “Goblins and ghosts and ghouls, oh my!”

Characters: Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, etc. (no pairings)

Every night, now, is the same.

Every night, the woman comes for him, entering his room like an ethereal dream. Climbing atop him like an old fashioned nightmare.

Every night, Sam feels her sit atop his chest, gripping his shoulders with icy fingers. Squeezing his ribs, his lungs, between her naked, knobby knees.

Every night, she leans in close and drips foul-tasting lake water into his wide open mouth as he releases yet another silent scream into the dark, empty room.

Every night, he breathes her in – the cold, cold water that she seems to be comprised of – choking and sputtering and retching. Until he drowns all over again.

---

It was supposed to be an easy mission. It was an easy mission. Little more than lookout duty on his part.

He and Bucky were tasked with sitting, it seemed, the two of them made to hunker down and hold steady at the tree line, to keep watch while Steve and Natasha infiltrated the tiny – likely long ago abandoned – building nestled deep within the Siberian wilderness.

“This place is hell.” The words crackle in his mind, the sound of his own voice – pitching into pure petulance – echoing eternally as the memory plays out in yet another restless dream. He shakes his head idly to-and-fro before craning his neck a bit and twisting, the slight crack-crack-pop resounding in the air.

Bucky snorts in reply, his eyes still – always – suspiciously narrowed, trained ahead, his advanced vision allowing him to see the cracked open door where their teammates had entered without the need of his rifle’s scope. “It’s Siberia,” he drones. “What did you expect?”

“Not this.” No, not this, he thinks, breathing out a sigh, absolute boredom stretching out along the deep exhale as his eyes tick off past the outpost.

This is nothing like what he had expected Siberia to be. He’d pictured a barren wasteland. A snow-covered desert. A place – dead and dark and devoid – that could be of no use beyond breaking men and building monsters.

This place is beautiful. Stunning. Lush and full and picturesque, with swaths of deep, rich color popping through the low-hanging clouds. Every shade of green blanketing the ground, swirling with earthen browns in the distance as the forest gave way to the far-off mountain range. Snow-covered peaks, buried deep in the background, showing a hint of the frozen scape that he had expected to see as they traveled from the other end of the world.

Off to the east, just at the edge of the expansive clearing… that’s where a small lake lay, the water reflecting the soft gray hues of the overcast sky, small slivers of silver shining from between the thick branches of peculiar looking spruces and pines.

No, it isn’t the place he expected to see when they first climbed off the jet and began the four mile trek to the tiny outpost. Nor is it the kind of place that warrants being called hell. At first glance, it seems more like an expansive – albeit cold – paradise. And yet, Sam can’t help but feel an eerie tingling up his spine, a physical sensation that tells him there is something very not right about this little part of Siberia.

It’s the noise. Yes, that’s it. It’s the noise – or lack thereof – that has his shoulders set high and his chest tight in a sort of nervous anticipation. This place… it sounds like something out of a nightmare.

They’d been sitting in the same spot for what feels like hours, crouched at the edge of the forest, huddled in amongst the thick, spiky bushes and sap-covered trees. They’ve been sitting in their own self-induced silence – because Barnes is worse at small talk than Romanov – for a veritable eternity. And nothing, not a single bird nor squirrel nor whatever the hell kinds of animals live up here, had made a sound.

There is nothing. Not even the soft rustle of the trees in the wind. There is no wind. There is only stillness. And utter, deafening silence.

His ears ring and whomp from the emptiness filling them, the richly absent noise that burrows so deep it manages to infiltrate his brain with a cold, gray stillness to match that of the far-off lake.

And then… the silence is broken. Shattered by a deafening creak from the heavy, metal door on that small building that sits abandoned in the middle of the clearing. Blown apart by the sudden pounding in Sam’s chest, forcing a thunderous tide of blood to resound in his ears. Destroyed entirely by Bucky’s single, barely audible word, hissed out through tightly clenched teeth as he jumps up and shoulders his rifle.

“Shit.”

---

“It’s perfectly normal… this sort of reaction,” the doctor tells him with a shrug as she scurries to the other side of the small exam room. “You went through a traumatic experience. You very nearly died.”

“Yeah,” Sam replies with a bit of a scoff. “But I’ve very nearly died before,” he counters, challenging brow raised high.

She lets out a long-winded, exhausted-sounding sigh, the expression riding on her far-too-young face – what is Stark’s deal with hiring child geniuses, anyway? – showing more than a hint of annoyance. “It’s extremely common for the brain to either alter or block out entirely certain memories when a traumatic event occurs. And to have… disturbing nightmares. Trauma does funny things – ”

“Please stop saying trauma,” he laments thickly, cutting her off mid-thought. “Look, not to sound like a dick, doc, but I know what trauma is. Hell, I’ve been a trauma counselor. And this? It’s not that.”

She glares at him from over the top of her thick-rim glasses. “Alright. Do you see this woman when you’re not dreaming?” she asks, eyes narrowed in interest, or perhaps suspicion. “Are you having hallucinations?”

His shoulders drop, a low groan pulling from his chest amid an annoyed, “No.”

“Because you were without oxygen for a considerable period of time,” she goes on, eyes flicking to the tablet in her hand as she begins a frantic scroll through his chart. “I was going to sign off on you today, but if you’re experiencing symptoms related to possible brain damage, to some sort of mental deficit…”

“Mental deficit?” he repeats incredulously. “No, I’m not… it’s not…” He throws his hands dramatically up into the air and hops down off the exam table. “You know what? Forget it. Just… forget it. I’ve been traumatized. This is an extremely common reaction. No brain damage here,” he tells her, reaching up and rapping at his skull with his knuckles. “Right as rain.”

She eyes him warily for a long moment before clicking out of his chart and offering a painfully forced smile. “In that case, you are cleared for duty, sir.”

Cleared for duty. It should be a good thing. It is a good thing, he tells himself as he heads for the conference room on the ground floor. Their mission in Siberia had been effectively cut short by his little plunge into that icy lake, the team racing to his rescue in lieu of clearing out the bunker and following up on any potential leads.

The place had been abandoned, or so Steve had told him once he woke a day later, laid up in medical. It looked to be little more than storage, a thick layer of dust sitting atop mountains of boxes, piles of papers, and stacks of old hard drives. He and Natasha had been slowly making their way through the plethora of crap, attempting to discern what held the most intel, what items were important enough to be lugged the four miles back to the jet, when they heard the heavy metal door to the building slam open.

Steve couldn’t say where the woman had come from. Natasha either. They had seen a row of cells that extended down a long, musty corridor. Had walked the hall and shone their flashlights into each and every one. But there was no one there, not that they had seen.

And while they had heard the door creak open up above them, signaling the woman’s escape, and while both Sam and Bucky had seen her flee, race across the field and into the woods. Once she hit the water and plummeted into that deep, cold lake, it was as though she had never really been there at all.

“You good to go?” tears Sam’s attention away from his wandering mind, deep brown eyes shooting across the room and finding a rather concerned looking Steve staring him down.

“Uh,” he sputters, glancing back at the open door. He had been so lost in own world that it hadn’t even realized he’d made it downstairs and entered the conference room where the prep work for the return mission was taking place. “Yeah,” he says with a slow nod. “All clear.”

Steve gives him a quick, stilted nod of his own, worry still etched across his face. “Good.”

---

She’s here again tonight.

He feels her approach, splitting through the soft quiet of his bedroom with a foreboding silence that echoes deep in his ears.

He sees her loom above him, a pitch black shadow that swallows even the moonlight-tinged darkness around him.

He feels his lungs begin to burn and constrict as she coils herself around his chest, squeezing him tight as she settles in.

He watches – paralyzed, eyes wide and unblinking – as she leans in close and whispers something into his ear. Into the dead of night. Something soft yet cutting, familiar yet indecipherable.

He stiffens even further as she cages him in, dark wet hair spilling down either side of a face he can’t quite make out, drip-drip-dripping into his once-again gaping mouth.

And – again – he drowns.

Sam wakes with a start, a choking, burning sensation filling his chest and tearing up and out of his throat in a gasping shout. He bolts upright, wide eyes desperately searching the dark for… something. For the dark haired girl whose silhouette is scorched onto the backs of his lids. For a familiar shadow… of anything or anyone that might calm him, ground him, make him believe he’s here. Safe at home.

For nothing at all. Because that’s what this is after all. Right? Nothing but a dream.

A long, languid sigh spills out of him as he spins and throws his legs over the edge of the bed, sitting heavily as his breaths begin to level. He ducks his head, his bleary eyes blinking to focus on the hardwood floor beneath his feet.

Nothing. There’s nothing. It’s nothing. Until…

Drip. He hears it first, a drop of water plopping, tiny but close, a drip onto the floor beside him.

Drip. He feels the next, splatting on his naked toe. The smell of sulfur – of rotten eggs and putrid lakes, decaying dreams and literal brimstone – suddenly pervades the room.

Drip. This time landing on the very center of his foot.

He shifts to face up, head righting itself achingly slowly, hesitation flooding his veins. His lids roll shut, pinch tightly together, as his face straightens, head slowly shaking back and forth in a silent plea.

Drip. A tiny, cold burst of water hits the tip of his nose. And his eyes snap open, taking in nothing but the pure, eternal dark.

---

Everything feels like a dream these days. Even this. Even sweating in the Avengers’ decked-out gym, Bucky by his side cringing like a mad man as he finishes his reps. There’s something odd and… murky about the world as it goes on around him now. Like everything is graying at the edges, the picture in front of him curling and singeing and smoldering into black even as he sits – paralyzed – at its center.

Sam shakes his head swiftly to fling away the eerie thoughts. To bring things back into focus.

“A roo-what-a?” he asks, voice thick and groggy, as he replies to Bucky’s just uttered words. He swipes at his red-rimmed eyes yet again, the thick grittiness left from too little sleep – from too much effort at holding them open – never fading, no matter how much he rubs.

Bucky racks the weights – just your standard 120-lb dumbbells, nothing too heavy for an early morning warmup – and grabs his half-empty bottle of water. “Rusalka,” he repeats before easily chugging the rest of his drink.

Sam rolls his eyes. The bastard just finished five drop sets, and he admitted to being late to the gym because he accidentally ran an extra five miles… and he’s barely even broken a sweat. “You do realize that doesn’t clear up a damn thing,” he issues out in a painfully annoyed tenor. “Right?”

He crumples the plastic bottle in his metal fist and chucks it into the recycling bin in the corner. “Look it up,” he says, his own voice taking on an irritated tone to match.

“You know, Barnes, you’re a real dick.”

Bucky glares at him for a moment, that oh-so-familiar dangerous stare that he opts for too damn often. Over the past several months – as Steve saw fit to pair him up with this wreck of a man for too damn many missions – Sam had grown rather accustomed to the stern, narrow-eyed scowl. But he was also starting to get used to the look that followed, the relaxed jaw and raised brow that seemed to signal a shift from the protective cover of the Winter Soldier to the knowing – at times even trusting – fellow Avenger. “I stood here and listened to you bitch about some nightmare witch, didn’t I? Seems like I’m a fucking fantastic friend.”

Sam rolls his eyes again, a deep, burning ache pulsating just behind them as he does so. “Look… I know it sounds crazy. It is crazy… but…”

Bucky nods slowly, his lips pursed and brows raised as if in absolute agreement.

“But,” he goes on, only to lose the thread entirely. The truth is, there’s no possible way that he can say anything, explain anything, that won’t make him sound like an absolute psycho. “I just… you were there, man,” he tries, voice fading off into a defeated sigh. “I don’t… I don’t really remember what happened. Not all of it. But…”

“A woman ran out of the compound,” he begins gently, his voice oddly deep and light. Patient. “Looked like a prisoner or a… an experiment of theirs. She took off into the woods, fell in the lake. You went in after her.” He relays what happened – for the umpteenth time – in a calm, matter-of-fact way. He is, after all, no stranger to gaps in memory. Nor, frankly, to traumatic nightmares. “I pulled you out,” he says, dropping his strong, flesh hand to Sam’s shoulder and giving a quick, firm squeeze. “Never found her.”

Bucky’s eyes tick up to look past him, over his shoulder. He gives a slight nod just as the heavy gym door clanks shut. “What’s happening, gruesome twosome?” Clint calls out as he strides over. “Cap got you two working out together now too?” he asks with a chuckle. “Feels like he’s trying to set up his best friends. Better be careful, I think that guy’s a step away from parent trapping you two.”

Sam blows an exhausted sigh out through his nose as Bucky pivots away and says simply, “I don’t know what that means.”

“Haley Mills, Sarge,” he responds with a crooked smirk as he steps up to the rack and grabs a pair of twenties. “Don’t bother with the Lindsay Lohan crap.”

“Okay,” he drawls out, gaze setting back on Sam, his clear blue eyes shining with a conspiratorial glimmer. “Doesn’t clear up a damn thing.”

Clint drops down to the bench to start some curls, watching his biceps carefully as he asks, no strain at all to his voice, “What are you two BFFs gossiping about down here all alone?”

“Ah,” Bucky breathes out with a soft cadence. “Sam’s seeing ghosts.”

“First of all,” Sam breaks in, single pointed finger raised high. “I hate you. And secondly, one ghost. Just the one. And you named her.”

“I didn’t name her,” he bemoans rather dramatically. “I said it sounds like a rusalka.”

“Which is…” Clint intones, inquiring brow raised high.

Bucky lets out a harsh sigh, his shoulders drooping as an annoyed expression tugs at his face. “It’s just this bullshit legend.” His countenance drops, eyes ticking away and darkening for a fraction of a moment as he states, “Couple of guards I remember used to talk about it. Superstitious fucks.” Another sigh, and he returns his typically steely gaze ahead. “It’s like the lady of the lake. A ghost,” he finishes with an exasperated cadence.

“Ooooh,” Clint mocks, glancing up at the pair and offering a playful wink. “Goblins and ghosts and ghouls, oh my!”

“It’s not funny,” Sam spits out, his normally good-natured attitude splitting at the seams and releasing a rather embittered version of himself… one that catches Clint off guard, causing him to stop his curls and gently set the weights down beside him.

“This about the mission last week?” he asks, his own lighthearted voice taking on a more serious edge. He turns to Bucky. “Lady of the lake? Like the lady you two saw drown in that lake?”

He nods, head bobbing low to hide the slight blush – a ruddy betrayer of shame – as he internally chides himself for mocking his friend’s pain. “I used to have to dreams too,” he says softly, voice low and tender. “Still do.” He looks up at Sam, nervously chews at the corner of his mouth before releasing a sigh and steeling himself once again. “You kill someone, or just… can’t save someone… yeah, that shit haunts you.”

“I know that, man,” Sam counters, a frustrated quality to his tone, to his stance. His eyes flit between Bucky and Clint, each man giving him his full attention, rapt and stoic and… invested. “I’ve had dreams too. Nightmares. Of missions gone wrong and people lost and…” His head begins a slow, certain shake, his gaze piercing and true as he states, “This isn’t that. I don’t know what it is. But it isn’t that.”

---

It hits him again, the moment his eyes finally fall shut, every battle against sleep seeming to end just the same way. The smell of the water. The stench of rotten eggs sitting high in his sinuses, tingeing the air he breathes now, here in his quiet, dark room.

“Shit,” breaks through the peculiar din, and Sam’s distant gaze snaps towards the building at the center of the clearing. To the door, no longer merely ajar, but flung wide open. “Shit,” Bucky repeats, the curse heavily spat as he rises and shoulders his rifle before launching forward through the brush.

It’s a woman – a girl – stumbling over a jumble of too-long legs before quickly righting herself, throwing a glance over her shoulder at the still-swinging door, and bolting across the clearing. Sam pops up the moment he sees her, takes off running just a fraction of a second before Bucky does, and chases after.

She’s heading for the lake, her bare feet plodding so delicately atop the grass that no sound comes from them, her escape seeming just as silent as the world surrounding them. It’s just breaths. His own, fast and hard as the air beats in and out of his lungs. Bucky’s easy and controlled, even as he runs in pace behind. The woman’s, stilted and frantic as she speeds across the land, slipping into the forest, making a beeline for the water.

She runs. On broken, blistered soles. Over frost-bitten grass and through sharp, stinging nettles. Branches slapping, cracking, whipping thick, red lines into the exposed flesh on her arms and legs. She runs. Away from the others. Away from everyone. Away from everything. She runs. Towards salvation. Towards home. Towards a wide, placid expanse.

Bucky pulls ahead, fueled by that damn super soldier serum that pumps endlessly through his veins. He flies into the forest after her, splitting the trees with his wide frame, plowing forward as his boots crunch violently on the fallen pinecones underfoot. And Sam follows. Just as he always seems to do. He chases after the super soldier, thoughts of Steve – I do what he does, just slower – flitting anxiously through his mind.

Sharp cracks and snaps echo through the air, breaking through the silence with small pops more startling than giant claps of thunder. Sam feels his chest constrict, his heart jumping at the sounds before resuming it’s wild beat against his ribcage.

And then… the heavy thump of boots on the ground stops, disappears altogether the moment he enters the forest. The sounds of crunching pine needles and snapping branches gone as well, leaving only the heavy pant of his own breaths and the fast-paced thrumming of his own heart echoing in his ears. Silence. Again.

Yes, this is what he remembers most.

The girl, pale and cold and desperate, running past him, slicing through the still air without making a sound. He turns, anchors his foot into the lush earth and swivels towards the flash of dark hair. The quick glimmer of a white dress. Or… no, it isn’t a dress, is it? No. It’s more like a hospital gown. No pants, no shoes. No jacket to cover her shivering body.

“Sam!” The shout pulls his attention and his heavy boots slip as he tries to turn, looking for the man he followed, the soldier who led him into these cold, dark woods. “Sam!” he hears again, finally lighting onto Bucky’s form, a quick, blinding flicker shooting off the bright metal arm. He’s far behind, stilled in the brush, his normally stoic face awash with something akin to fear. To terror.

Sam’s boots skid and slip on the muddy, moss-covered shore, eyes blowing wide as he looks down and sees the silver mirror of the lake, so close. In his periphery dances a swath of long, dark hair. He spins to see, spins and sputters, catches just a glimpse of her pale form just as it breaks through the water, the glassy surface splitting apart into violent ripples. A splash from a distance. The crunch of boots from behind. But the only thing he hears is his own short gasp as his feet slip out from under him.

And then… nothing. There is nothing to see but blackness.

He shakes himself awake, blinking almost maniacally, turning wide eyes towards the window, towards the sliver of moonlight peeking into his room. No. It hadn’t been black. It was green. The whole world was green. And gray. The water was pure silver and gray. Until he broke through that perfect, mirrored surface.

Sam! A shout, one carrying Bucky’s desperate tenor, resounds in a far-off corner of the room. How many times had he shouted his name? Once? Twice? Three times, as he raced frantically for him?

He can’t remember. All he can remember is the quiet that followed. And the cold. And the placid gray water turning murky and black the further he sank.

His eyes slowly close once more, lids too heavy to remain at attention. Body too heavy to keep from drifting off, from stilling and setting and sinking into the mattress. Sinking. He’s sinking. Down, down, down. Further into the cold dark. He feels a part of him twitch – his leg perhaps? maybe just a foot? – before he goes completely still. Paralyzed. Sunk.

A flash of a memory tears through the darkness, a snippet of something that he’s yet to recall with his waking mind. Traumatic experience, an easy explanation for why his dreams are so fucked, his memories so jumbled. So murky and black. But… This isn’t that. I don’t know what it is. But it isn’t that.

He remembers the silence. The stillness. A woman running.

He remembers the snapping and stomping and shout of a friend.

He remembers the cold, cold dark enveloping him as he sank. As… as she tugged him down. Long, dark hair. A white gown. Ghostly pale skin… gooseflesh all along her naked arms. She pulled him down. Down, down, down.

His eyes snap open once again, lungs clenching tightly as they try to pull in air. But they can’t. His chest burns, like the blister of ice water filling within. It aches, likes a thousand pounds rests atop him. Nothing works… not his lungs, nor arms, nor legs. Nothing works except his eyes. They tick up, widening in a frantic search, desperately cutting through the dark.

Something moves above him, the tiniest glint, a reflection of moonlight shining off of… long, dark hair. Wet, the thick curtain hangs heavily, concealing much of her face as it drips. Drip, drip, drip. Icy droplets ping against his skin, plopping to his cheek in scalding shards.

She’s sitting atop his chest, squatting, perched like a stony gargoyle atop its church. For the first time, he’s able to make out her face, staunchly white, oddly luminescent. Small features, a tiny nose, thin bowed lips. They part, just enough for a bitterly cold breath to blow past. And her eyes… her eyes are empty, pale, pale blue. No. Silver. And gray. And murky, like the lake water. She stares at him with those cold, dead eyes, cocking her head as his breathing and pulse grow more erratic.

Her lips move, the smallest echo drifting to him. Unintelligible words that he’s heard a dozen times before. A hundred? A thousand? She jerks suddenly off to the side, off of his chest, faltering for just a blink of moment before shattering into a million icy shards that melt into a cool puddle beside him.

Her soft voice continues to echo through the room. Through his mind. Through his soul.

Ты принадлежишь мне. Вы принадлежите нам.*

*You belong to me. You belong to us.

#sam wilson fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #wonderland4seasonalwc #sam wilson #marvel fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #ghoststories

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fandomfanfics12 · 5 years ago

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We Are A Family-Part 28

Title: We Are A Family. Pairings: Steve x tony, Peter x Wade, Nat x Clint, Sam x Bucky. Part: 28/? Warnings: swearing, fluff, angst, eventual smut, slowburn. Summary: When Nat comes into the avengers tower with baby Peter Parker, the avengers didn’t know what they were getting themselves into. But now that Peter is here,Steve and Tony both feel protective over him. It doesn’t help that Peter hates everyone other than Steve and tony. But as Steve and tony raise Peter, they start to fall for one another. Will this superfamily work out or will it all turn to hell? A/N: All i’m going to say is that we’re in the endgame now.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26, Part 27

Tony was running with Stephen in Central Park, relaying the previous day's events.

"And there's absolutely nothing I can do." They slowed to a stop and Stephen was frowning.

"I'll take a look at his charts, see if there's anything I know that could help." Tony grinned and pulled Stephen into a hug.

"Public affection?" Stephen quirked a brow and Tony rolled his eyes but stepped back. He'd never had a problem with public affection when he had been with Steve. But things had changed since then, a lot had changed. Then there were orange sparks, but Stephen wasn't doing anything. Wong appeared, and Bruce was next to him.

"Bruce?" Tony's eyes widened and Bruce grinned at him.

"Tony!" he pulled Tony into a hug and Tony hesitantly hugged him back.

"what, how, why, what?" Tony stuttered and Bruce stepped back.

"Tony it's bad. He's coming, Thanos is coming."

"Who?"

Peter was on the bus, next to Ned, mulling things over. Wade had cancer, but they were together. His emotions were all over the place, and the absolute last thing he wanted was to be on a bus on the way to a stupid field trip. Maybe he could bail, hang out with Wade at the hospital. But then the hands on Peter's body stood on end and his stomach dropped. The mood on the bus hadn't changed so he looked out the window and saw it.

"shit." He whispered and tapped Ned. "Ned, Ned! I need you to cause a distraction!" Peter hissed and saw Ned's eyes look out the window.

"We're all going to die!" he screamed and the anxiety in the bus sent Peter bending over. he stumbled to the other side of the bus and snuck out the window while no one was looking. And then he was off, heading towards the fight.

It was agony, they'd shoved Wade in a machine and he couldn't breathe. It felt like his head was going to explode.

"Still have that humour?" the asshole asked and he glared, but couldn't muster up much rage. He couldn't breathe.

"fuck. You." he snarled and pictured Peter. This was why he was here. To protect Peter, to make sure that he could have more time with Peter. Just breathe. He tried to, but there wasn't enough oxygen. He felt like he was going to suffocate. Finally the asshole raised the oxygen in the air and Wade gasped for breath, finally able to breathe. But all too soon, there was the loss of oxygen and he was suffocating once more.

Peter couldn't breathe, the air was too thin and he was too high.

"Peter you've gotta let go, I will catch you." he heard his dad's voice, but he couldn't let the wizard go. He took off his mask, desperate to let air in. it felt like his head was about to explode. He knew he should let go, fall back into the safety of his dad's arms, go back home. He'd be safer that way, he'd be home that way. But when you had Peter's abilities, you couldn't just ignore the problem. This could be a one way trip. He thought as something enveloped his body. Within seconds a new suit was wrapped around him and air filled his lungs.

"Woah." He said as his eyes adjusted to all the new features his dad had implemented.

"Friday send him home." He heard and then felt a parachute open up and pull him backwards. He watched his father fly past him and Peter felt fear curdle within his gut. No! he thought. He didn't want to be separated from his dad, he didn't want to lose yet another parent. His biological parents were gone, his pops was gone, all he had left was his dad.

"No! I want my dad!" Peter cried and the suit listened.

"Yeah, uh, speaking of loyalty." Tony turned at the sound of Peter's voice. He isn't here. He thought but turned and saw Peter, right there beside him.

"what the fu-"

"I know what you're going to say-" Peter held out his hands and Tony felt irritation flare within him.

"you should not be here." Tony pointed at his son, and Peter's eyes widened. Dammit kid.

"I was gonna go home."

"I don't want to hear it."

"but it was such a long way down, and I just thought about..." peter kept talking but Tony wasn't hearing the words.

"and now I gotta hear it." he grumbled.

"and now I'm here in space." Peter attempted a smile, but Tony's dad instincts had kicked in.

"Yeah, right where I didn't want you to be." He snapped. Peter flinched and Tony sighed. He needed to save Stephen, his damn boyfriend, but he also needed to protect his son. Fuck. He thought and took several deep and calming breaths. Peter wasn't meant to be here, he was meant to be at home with May. Safe and sound until Tony had dealt with the problem. But here he was, on a fucking spaceship.

"I'm sorry." He whispered and Tony shook his head.

"Peter this isn't safe, this could be a one-way ticket!" Tony hissed and Peter looked down at the ground.

"So why are you here?" he asked and Tony flinched.

"because it's my job Peter." He said and again, wished Steve was here. To talk them both down. But that wasn't Steve's job anymore. Steve hadn't wanted to do that anymore. That's why Steve had left.

"alright, we need to figure out a plan."

Steve was walking with his head down through Brooklyn. He'd rescued Wanda and Vision from those aliens and then come back home. But Tony was nowhere to be found. And then Steve had turned on the tv to see his ex-husband and son had gone to space. And then whatever it was that had been controlling his mind this whole time, let him go. He'd told Natasha everything, and the being that had once controlled him didn't ever try and stop him. Whatever plan it had had, it was working. It didn't need Steve or Bucky anymore. And then Steve had declared he'd needed air. So he was walking, with no direction. Nowhere to go and no one to go to.

Wade showed up to the avengers compound in nothing but a sheet. He pushed the doorbell seventeen times and banged his hand on the door. There were people running around everywhere and none of them paid any attention to him. He lifted his fist to smack the door again when none other than Steve Stark-Rogers answered. Steve’s eyes widened as he took Wade in and Wade shifted uncomfortably. He knew how bad he looked from the fire, from the experiment. But now really wasn’t the time to discuss that.

“where’s Peter?” he asked and Steve frowned

“What are you doing here Wade?” Wade shook his head, he didn’t have time for pleasantries.

“shouldn’t I be asking you that? No-it doesn’t matter. I need Peter.” But Steve shook his head.

“he’s not here.” Wade shook his head, was Peter mad at him?

“Well he’s not with May or at the house, so he has to be here. Please I get why he’s pissed but I have a really good explanation.” Wade couldn’t believe it himself. He was cured, invincible.

“What happened to you Wade?” Steve asked and Wade squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. He needed to see his boyfriend, needed to tell him the news. I’m cancer free.

“It’s a long story. Look I can’t get ahold of Peter so I’m assuming he’s with Tony in the workshop, so can you please let me in?” Steve let out a slow deep breath. He looked different, there were dark bags underneath his eyes and his hair was a mess. he even had a beard. This wasn’t the well put together Steve that Wade remembered from his childhood.

“You don’t know?” Steve asked and Wade let out an irritated huff.

“Know what?” and then Steve explained where exactly Wade’s idiot of a boyfriend and father were.

“No Pete, you are a stowaway.” Tony said but Peter just shook his head. His mind was spinning as he watched his dad with Stephen.

“How do you know each other?” But Peter had a sinking feeling in his stomach, he knew who this was. Tony sighed, that was a bad sign. He was preparing himself for an explanation that Peter didn’t want to hear.

“This wasn’t exactly how I planned for the two of you to meet.” Tony scratched the back of his head and Peter shook his head.

“So you’re the shiny new boyfriend.” Tony frowned but Stephen smiled politely.

“It’s nice to finally meet you Peter. Your father speaks very highly of you.” usually Peter would be beaming from such a compliment, but he didn’t want that from Stephen. Stephen held his hand out but Peter didn’t shake it. this is all wrong. this isn’t how things are supposed to be. He thought to himself and shook his head.

“Peter.” But Peter just glared at his dad.

“There’s no way that this is happening.”

“I’m going to assume that your uncharacteristically rebellious attitude today is to do with the hospital visit.” Peter ignored the comment, although he had considered that. What if Wade died while Peter was in space? What if he never got to see him again?

“What about Pops?” Peter asked instead and Tony rose his brows.

“what about him?”

“He’s clearly still in love with you!” Peter cried and Tony looked taken aback by that. Stephen just watched the two of them with a frustratingly stoic face.

“We broke up Peter. Got the divorce and he moved out and we moved on. We’ve talked about us moving on.”

“But he hasn’t!” Peter ran a frustrated hand through his hair. It was so damn obvious to him.

“Your pops was the one who cheated on me, remember?” and now his dad was getting defensive, but Peter wasn’t backing down. He was right and they both knew it. even if Tony wasn’t ready to admit it.

“What about the wedding? He wanted you. it was like the old him, before things got so fucked up and-“

“Language.” Peter didn’t give two flying shits about language.

“And he begged for you! he didn’t ask for Bruce, or Nat or Bucky but for you, and that has to mean something!” Tony squeezed his eyes shut.

“I spoke to Bruce about that. He said that Steve was confused. His brain was anticipating the seizure, probably due to the serum and he got confused. Asked for his husband because we were married for a long time and that is a habit.” Peter shook his head.

“And you think that’s all it was?” tony’s eyes snapped open and he looked royally pissed off then.

“Okay then explain to be the big fight at the airport that happened the very next day? When your pops nearly killed me and turned his back on me. when he dropped a storage container on you?” Tony rose his brows and Peter let out a slow calming breath.

“We both said that he wasn’t in his right mind that day.” His dad suddenly looked so exhausted and Peter felt a flicker of guilt. But it was quickly overpowered by nervous energy. Stephen began to speak but Peter interrupted him. They weren’t alone.

“Someone’s coming.” Not a second later something dropped between the three of them and blasted them all back. Peter went flying and then there was an alien with antenas above him. He crawled back, fear curdled in his gut.

"Please don't put your eggs in me!" he cried and then felt an arm wrap around him, dragging to his feet and then a gun was pressed against his head. Every nerve and fibre in his body froze. He shuddered ever so slightly as his dad’s fear rolled into him. Then his dad aimed a gun at an alien man.

“If you shoot my son I swear I will shoot every single one of you.” and the gun pressed harder against Peter’s head.

Steve couldn't believe what Wade had told him. He'd had Friday run scans and she'd confirmed that Wade was now cancer free.

"it's remarkable." Bruce said but Wade shook his head.

"it was fucking painful. But I'm kind of invincible now." Interesting, Steve thought. They could use him. But then Steve immediately reprimanded himself for considering to put a child in battle. Not just any child, Peter's best friend and boyfriend.

"But at least you're alive." Natasha said and Wade nodded.

"I need to talk to Peter." He grumbled for the thousandth time and Steve nodded his head in agreement.

"And I need to talk to Tony." Wade’s eyes widened and he frowned. Steve couldn’t even begin to comprehend the immense level of pain the kid must be feeling.

“Really?” he asked and the Avengers all gave Steve the pitying look. He looked down at the floor. Nat had cried when he’d told her.

“So you were aware the whole time? As you broke up your marriage?”

“My mind and my mouth were saying different things. I’d pick fights for no reason and say things I didn’t mean. Even the whole fight at the airport was out of my control.”

“Thanos, the guy that’s coming. He’s been controlling Steve and Bucky’s minds for years. We think the goal was to break up the avengers, so we couldn’t fight him.” Bruce said so Steve didn’t have to.

“Oh.” At that, Steve looked up.

“Oh?” he rose a brow and Wade looked uncomfortable.

“what does that mean?” Natasha asked and folded her arms. There was a sinking feeling in Steve’s gut.

“So what you’re saying is that you never wanted to divorce Tony?” Wade asked and Steve nodded his head.

“I never fell out of love with Tony, never wanted to fight or break up with him. I didn’t want to lose Peter either and I’m telling them both as soon as they come back home.” If they came home. But Steve couldn’t consider the possibility that they wouldn’t. they’d both come back to Steve and they’d be a big happy family again.

"Oh."

"what is it Wade?" Steve was running out of patience and Wade just looked down at his hands.

"Tony never confirmed it himself. But Peter and I were pretty sure that Tony had moved on. That he had met someone else-gotten a new boyfriend.” Steve felt the attention of the room shift to him but the whole world fell away. The air was knocked from Steve's lungs. Tony had moved on. Met someone else. A new boyfriend. It sent shockwaves through Steve but he should have expected it, of course Tony would have moved on. Because Steve had done all these awful things to push him away. Everyone would have told Tony to move on and he should have. Steve was an idiot to think he’d still have a chance after all this time.

"Oh." Steve whispered and felt like he was about to collapse. What if he was too late? What if they came home and told Steve that they didn’t care? That they didn’t want him?

"I could be wrong. Tony never outright said it. Peter and I just speculated." But Wade wouldn't have said anything if he wasn't pretty damn sure about it.

"We can sort that out later. Thanos is coming here and we need to be prepared to fight him." Natasha said, shifting the room’s attention and Steve made a mental note to thank her later.

"Right." Bruce said. Steve’s marriage had to wait, he would sort this out with Tony. But later. He couldn’t stress himself out over something that might not happen. Not when he had a much bigger issue to deal with.

"So Wakanda?" Wanda asked and Steve nodded.

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itsakpopalypse · 5 years ago

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Han Sanghyuk (VIXX) Astrology : How He Loves

“After you basically FORCED me into making Hyuk my ult... would you be so kind and kill me with his chart, thank you and I love you ❤” - @randomkpopfiction

A/N ohhhh YOU KNOW I’D LOVE TO 😂👀

as always, fluff in the beginning, 18+ under the cut!!

Cute Cancer puppy on his way to your heart like

Alright !!!

Libra rising and Moon, (FLIRT BATTLE)

Cancer Sun, these specific placements indicate he is going to be sooooo needy for your attention... but only once he has let you in

everyone knows it’s hard to get past the crab’s shell, and he will make you WORK for his feelings in the beginning

once you have obtained his good grace, however, you must be ready to receive it ALL

because both Libra is needy, and Cancer is jealous.

if he has gained interest in you he will be single minded,

think flirt flirt flirt... oh.. oh no wait,.wait are these real feelings??

scared and confused he thought he was having fun

then he figures himself out and he goes for it headfirst. His mars is Virgo so there’s no doubt that he will pursue you with an intensity unexpected from his silly nature.

Mercury and Venus in Gemini, which suggests he is going to witty and snarky

playful banter 10/10

cancer’s tend to be very emotionally evolved when their own needs are met

so if you give him the affection and maybe puff his ego a little you will get that back tenfold.

Romance with him is going to be a constant surprise

Gemini venus craves unique and exciting love

so imagine you’re coming in from a hard day at work, everything is normal

but the house is ... unusually quiet.

you come around a corner only to be greeted by a giggly Hyuk attacking you with water balloons

and he will point to a bucket full of your own ammo

and next thing you know you are chasing each other around

there’s laughing screaming giggling smooching

he is absolutely going to physically actually hold things over your head.

actually

and he will be competitive AF

and Mars in Virgo.... well. he’s driven once he has a focus. and that’s all i’ll say for now

He’s stubborn

like he will probably fight you just to fight you

cancer’s don’t like to back down

luckily there is enough air in his chart that he will be reasonable if you are logical

but expect silly little debates over other unimportant things because uh

he’s going to want to be right

deep down he is much gentler than he at first appears, and his Moon and Venus play a large part in that

expect REALLY thoughtful gifts and compliments

he won’t be 100% the cuddliest in public

but he would be the type to hold your hand under the table

or slide two fingers into your belt look while you are walking just to tug you closer that’s cute

place little kisses on top of your head and comment on how “Cute. You’re short”

even if you aren’t, he’s just a giant

at the end of the day, he would actually be a goey mess for his significant other

expect him to be your number one supporter and best friend

He wants you to feel as confident as he does and he wants you to know how much he cares

will be the type to stare at you when you are not looking and when you turn he pretends he wasn’t

even years into the relationship

because his very romantic Libra moon wants to see the poetry in the lines of your face, shining from your soul out.

a sweetie, beneath the constant teasing

Oops guess we getting Sp I CY

Hyuk stans, come collect I am done with your hellhound

this chart is HIGH KEY FRIGHTENING

not because he is the dom-est of any dom

but because his placement is perfect for that push and pull type of bedroom shenanigans that not only will you never get tired of,

but will also be worn out by, pretty much on the reg

hey your cervix had a nice run right?

REMEMBER WITTY GEMINI MERCURY and VENUS

well it’s in lilith too, Lilith which... controls your sensuality and darker sides...

yeah that means he is a WHOLE FUCKIN TEASE

I am talking MARATHONS of teasing

starting like... two days ahead

tiniest touches that venture just out of the range of normal

just enough to set your skin aflame

but he is acting like... nothing is different hey are you okay why are you so flushed?

I’d say I wanna fight him for you but no one is gonna fight SangHulk successfully

Acts like everything is normal only to do it again later

fingers brushing up the back of your neck

speaks too close to your ear

and once he is ready to strike??

oh the teasing is not over yet

the type to withhold your pleasure until you are out of your mind begging

before his Virgo mars decides okay, you wanna come? sure. now keep going until I let you stop.

why is he actually the devil I’m

now with all that Gemini , he could be pretty switchy

but he gives off big “Earn it” energy ya know

like, he’d LET you tie him to the bed,

but if you teased back the way he does.... he’s breaking out and when he does,

good luck

That’s when he would turn on the more aggressive side,

leaves bites on your inner thighs

might make it a heart cause he thinks that shit is romantic

His Pluto (Scorpio) and Moon (Libra) are dominant planets, so he would be a bit more...

rough, and dark when you mess with him

size kink 12/10 he will throw you around like you are a feather because he can

fucks you against the wall because he’s been teased and teasing all day and just can’t wait anymore

they type to grab you by the hips and pull you back onto him,

like even when you’re on top, he’s got to show off

praise him and he will reward you by getting more exuberant

if you can handle that

SNARKY COMMENTS AFTER

oh you are walking a little stiff ??

Brings it up as though he’s worried. “Oh no, are you okay? you look tight?”

Will offer to give you a massage and if you accept he really will do it.

genuinely wants you to feel better... but it will get sensual fast

Gemini is a horny sign IM SORRY

so that leads to round two

slow, deep, feel every ridge on the drag out,

the sharp snap of his hips until you can almost taste it

probably into choking

fuck you have seen his hands right???

like what else are those? for ?

probably buys you some expensive choker to cover up any marks that may happen

mostly he likes it cause it’s almost a collar

Cancer’s are jealous after all

definitely into marking,

but discretely

ya know, stake your claim, but make it fashion

honestly though, even though he is kind of the world’s biggest little shit, he would be really romantic and thoughtful

expect actual aftercare cuddles and TONS of praise

thanks for your patience !

as an in general authors note, life has been the busiest the last month or so. I am hoping normalcy will return so I can write more regularly, thank you all for understanding !!

#han sanghyuk #hyuk vixx #kpop astrology #kpop astrology asks #han sanghyuk smut #hyuk x reader #vixx fanfiction #vixx smut #hyuk vixx fluff #fluff and smut #hyuk #vixx fluff

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benhardyisdaddy · 6 years ago

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What A Time - Part 7

MASTERLIST

(hello welcome to pt 7 sorry it took forever im on vacation w my niece so ive been so busy BUT i had free time today cuz im home alone and sick so im just writing a whole bunch i hope u all like it (Y/B/M = your birth month) and ily BYEEE)

Word Count: 2,161

You were confused. What the hell had just happened? It’s all you could think about. Max had left not long after the random people had left. Random? Were they random? They all looked too familiar, yet they were strangers. You close your eyes and lean your head against your pillow. It was the next day and that blonde haired man has officially overtaken your mind. You exhale as a soft knock at your door breaks you out of your thoughts in the early morning. Your head looks up fast as your heart beats loudly, hoping the blonde man would walk in. But he doesn’t. In walks your doctor as he smiles and slowly enters the room. He holds a chart in his hand and walks towards you, his eyes never leaving yours. He looks almost nervous, which makes you nervous. You attempt to sit up more straight as he stops in front of you. He clears his throat, continuing to smile.

“Hi, y/n,” he starts quietly. “I just want to go over some more stuff with you. Is that okay?” he asks, looking down at his chart quickly.

You nod your head and watch as he eyes the piece of paper and then looks back up to you.

“Alright, perfect. So, can you tell me when your birthday is again?” he asks.

You think for a moment and squint your eyes in the process. You open your mouth to speak, then close it. Then you open it once more.

“Y/B/M?” you ask staring at him, hoping it’s correct.

The doctor looks down at your chart and his eyes open slightly as a smile spreads across his face.

“Excellent! Y/B/M it is. Do you know by chance what day and year you were born?” he asks once more.

You shut your eyes in thought, but nothing comes to you. For some reason, Y/B/M screamed at you, but the day and year were still a mystery. You shake your head no and embarrassingly stare down at your hands. The doctor quickly shakes his head and smiles at you.

“Hey, that’s okay. It’ll come back.” he says, before continuing. “That’s why I’m here, Y/n.” he says.

You look up to him and shake your head slightly, not understanding. He slowly sits himself on the side of your bed and reaches into his front pocket. He pulls out a tiny flashlight and switches it on and off.

“I’m just gonna check your pupils and make sure they’re dilating properly, okay?” he asks, scooting closer.

“Okay.” you say back, slowly leaning forward. The doctor puts up a finger and places it beside the flashlight.

“Alright, now stare at my finger, not the light.”

You look over and don’t move a muscle. He takes the flashlight and shines it in your left eye. It feels bright and uncomfortable, but you don’t budge. He then shines it in your right eye, watches for a moment, then clicks off the flashlight. He shoves it back in his pocket and scoots away. You blink a few times adjusting your eyes and look to him. He’s writing something on his clipboard.

“So your eyes aren’t dilating like they should. It’s nothing to worry about, it’s normal when someone has a concussion of your sorts.You went through something very traumatic and your body is trying to cope with it. Just like it’s trying to cope with the memories of the accident.” he says slowly, watching you.

Once again, you didn’t understand.

“The memories?” you ask.

The doctor sits up and clears his throat once more.

“Concussions have a lot to do with swelling on the brain which, y/n, you have. It messes with memory. Head trauma is very serious, and although concussions cause memory loss, your body has the ability to block away any bad memory for you. And anything surrounding that bad memory. Look at it like your mind is guarding you from bad things and the wreck being that bad thing.”

You stare at him and it slowly starts making sense. Not knowing your birthday, not knowing those people in the room. You close your eyes and exhale.

“Are you saying I have memory loss?” you ask quietly.

The doctor watches as your eyes stay closed. He frowns and tenses his jaw. Sometimes he disliked this job very much.

“Yes.” he whispers. “You have memory loss. Not remembering your birthday was a very early and clear sign of it. And-”

“And those people in my room? The blonde haired man. I knew him. I knew all of them, didn't I?” you ask, almost feeling sick to your stomach.

The doctor just stares at you, not knowing what to say. He’s about to speak when suddenly there’s another knock at your door. Both of your heads turn to stare at it. He looks back to you and half smiles as he stands up and walks towards the door. When he opens it, you hear another person’s voice as they whisper. The doctor moves out of the way and in walks in the blonde man. He’s dressed very nice and has a box in one arm and a bouquet of sunflowers and roses in the other. He looks to you and smiles. You watch as his cheeks turn slightly pink. What’s he doing here?! You suddenly feel very self conscious. You bring your hand to your head and gently fix your hair.

“Hi.” he whispers, staring at you almost in amazement.

You stare back and quickly smile, eyes darting away. The doctor walks up to you, noticing your heart monitor speeding up.

“Y/n,” he says. “This is Roger. He was the man here yesterday. He just wants to talk to you. If you need anything, just press the call button and we’ll be here. And you,” he says turning to look at Roger, his eyes squinted. “If you do anything stupid, no more visitation.”

Roger nods fast as the doctor walks out of the room, shutting the door. Roger looks behind him and grabs a chair and slides it over to your side of the bed. He slowly sits down and lifts up the flowers.

“These are, uh. These are for you.” he says. You smile and reach your good arm out to grab them. You gently lift them to your nose and smell.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.” you say, looking down at them.

“They’re your favorite.” he says, watching you closely. You turn your head to look at him. His blue eyes gleam as they stare into yours.

“The doctor told me everything.” he says. “About the concussion. About the memory loss. You don’t remember me. Us.” he says, referring to everyone else that was here. “We were dating for about six years, but you don’t remember that and that’s okay. But I brought some pictures for you to look at. Maybe so you don’t think I’m lying-” he says, quickly looking down and swallowing hard. “And maybe they’ll help. You know, to remember.”

You watch as he nervously stammers. You catch yourself half smirking as he fidgets with the large box on his lap. He opens it up and pulls out a few pictures.

“Oh see this one,” he starts. “This is when the two of us went to Paris. You wanted to see the Eiffel Tower so bad, so I took you.”

He hands you the photo and sure enough, it’s the two of you bundled up with your arms wrapped around each other. You both had the biggest smiles on your face. It was as if you were staring at someone else's life. You were in the picture, but you weren’t. You smile down at it and look back up. Roger hands you another photo.

“And this is with Mary and Freddie. The three of you were doing karaoke at Fred’s house. You love karaoke.”

You look at the picture and you and the blonde girl Mary had your legs wrapped around the man’s legs, as you hung onto him, laughing. You loved karaoke? Okay, that’s something new. You have terrible stage fright, this can’t be possible.

“You use to hate karaoke.” says Roger, almost as if he read your mind. You look to him quickly as he stares at the photo in your hand. “You got so scared singing in front of others, but for some reason when I was with you, it was as if you owned the room. That fear was gone.”

He looks up to you and you smile. Roger quickly pulls out another photo and hands it to you.

“This is one is probably my favorite.”

You look down and you’re in a band tee that says Queen as Roger’s arm is wrapped around you. He’s looking at the camera smiling as you’re staring up at him, with the most adoration look on your face. You looked so in love. You can tell why this was his favorite. You suddenly feel tears sting in your eyes. You weren’t sure why you were going to start crying, but something about this photo almost made you...sad?

“And this one,” he says handing you one more. “Is when you were at our concert with Mary. You were absolutely shit faced.” he says as he laughs, which causes you to laugh. He looks up to you almost shocked and smiles.

You look down at the photo and see yourself in another Queen tee shirt, beer in your hand. There’s people surrounding you and a stage behind you with people on it. Your arms are in the air and your eyes are squeezed close and your mouth is open wide, as if you were yelling. Your cheeks were rosy, indicating that you were, in fact, shit faced. You smile at the photo and then look back to Roger fast. You squint your eyes.

“’Our’ band?” you ask.

He stares at you for a moment and tenses his jaw.

“Yeah. The four of us guys have a band called Queen. We tour everywhere, which is why I have so many of these pictures. You went almost everywhere with us.”

You look back at the photo and notice the Queen shirt again. You focus even harder at the stage and suddenly spot the blonde man behind the drums and the guy named Freddie with the microphone to his mouth.

“You play drums.” you finally say.

Roger sits up straight and smiles.

“Yeah, I do. I’ve tried teaching you how to play. I actually have a photo of it,” he says as he takes out a bunch of photos.

He’s about to drop them all when you suddenly reach out and take a handful. Roger looks up and goes to stop you from looking, but it’s too late. You look down and the first photo you see is of yourself. You’re in nothing but black panties and a light fur coat, that’s barely covering your chest. Your eyes open wide at the sight of you looking at the camera seductively. You quickly look to another one and this time the fur coat is slipped off your shoulders and your breasts are slightly exposed. You gasp and look at one more. This time your eyes open wide. It’s a far away shot with you lying on your back. The fur coat is barely on as an arm is bent down towards you, a hand grabbing your neck. Your legs are spread apart as a man is shown being inside of you as you bite your lip. You flip the photo over quickly and look away, your cheeks heated. Your heart is racing as Roger quickly gathers the photos together.

“I’m so sorry.” he whispers. “You weren’t supposed to see those yet. I swear they were taken with your permission. I’m so sorry.” he says again as he places them back in the box. Just then, your heart rate monitor goes off and in comes a nurse and your doctor. He looks between you two as the nurse rushes to you.

“Alright, that’s enough for today. She needs rest.” he says, looking to Roger. He quickly nods and stands up fast. He looks back to you and nervously stares.

“I really am sorry.” he says. “Could I see you again tomorrow?” he asks, waiting anxiously for your answer. You think for a moment and lightly smile, looking away from him.

“Yes.” is all you say. He smiles back even wider and nods his head.

“Alright, see you tomorrow, y/n.” And with that, he’s gone.

The nurse checks your wiring and stitches and gives everyone the OK. You were fine, just flustered. Those pictures were genuine and authentic, no photo shop about them. That was you and that was him and you were together. You suddenly think about Max and lay your head back. This was so confusing. You remember Max perfectly, but not this guy? You want to remember him so badly.

Or do you?

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