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free-pool-trash · 4 years ago

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folklore - isaac lahey {7/?}

Hey guys! Sorry for the long wait I’ve been ridiculously busy the past few weeks 😓BUT!!! As compensation I made this part super long and fluffy with sooooooo much Isaac/reader content (enjoy it while you can because shits gonna be messy from here on out 🤭🙈)

Having said that, I don’t have my laptop right now as I moved houses and my stuff got put into storage so I’m working with the mobile version 😓 sorry in advance if formatting is weird I tried to make it better 😓 also there’s no continue reading button so sorry if this comes up on your dash 😭

Let me know what you think tho I’d really appreciate it 💕

Word count: 5.5k 🙈

Warnings: Fluff 😳, mentions of blood, Derek being a PAIN IN THE ASS, Isaac being the cutest 😌✨, ✨kissing✨, swearing

Masterlist

Tag list (open as always): @makeusfreefromthisfandom om, @cece-lives-here here, @chocolate-raspberries , @belsandthings , @dancing-tacos-23 , @truly-dionysus , @britty443 , @tanyaherondale , @furiouspockettoad , @yunsh-17 17, @random-thoughts-003 , @gloomybrieyxb , @futuristicslimemongerbanana , @linkpk88 , @big-galaxy-chaos , @im-a-stranger-thing , @riaisnotcool (I think u had a username change but idk let me know and I can fix it), @its-evita-here , @pad-foots , @sweetpeabellamyblakedracomalfoy , @bookswillfindyouaway , @what-the-hap-is-fuckening , @awkwardnesshabitat , @pieces-by-me me, @wreny24 , @kerosene-angel (if this is the wrong username I’m sorry it wasn’t working the way I had written it down so I’m assuming I just took it down wrong 😳 it it’s not you let me know and I’ll remove you), @marveloucnco o, @babypink224221 let me know if you’d like to be added <3 (strike through means tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you)

The days you’d spent in Mystic Falls bled into weeks and soon enough you were being beckoned back to Beacon Hills with a head full of things you hadn’t had a clue about two weeks prior.

There, of course, was the matter of Peter- who was now dead, well technically, he was murdered.

Derek’s first course of action as Beacon Hills’ new alpha was to break the news to you. He’d killed him but due to Scott and Stiles’ constant text updates, you knew it would’ve had to be done sooner or later. But still, you had a feeling that this wouldn’t be the last of him. That small intuitive feeling in the back of your mind told you that you’d see him again soon. You just hoped your next meeting wouldn’t be happening because you ended up buried next to him.

Over the course of your stay with Alaric, who had left you in the care of the Salvatore brothers- Stefan and Damon, you’d honed several new vampiric powers. As it turned out, some of the powers you possessed were completely unfamiliar to the vampires of over a hundred years.

You had super speed, it wasn’t just enhanced as you’d previously thought. As well as that, you’d discovered that you could run circles around both Stefan and Damon Salvatore, who were obviously a lot older and therefore should’ve been a lot faster.

And for that matter, they should’ve been stronger than you, they should’ve been able to snap you like a twig. They should’ve been able to. But they weren’t. Because not only were you faster, you were stronger too.

While having super speed and super strength was nice, mind compulsion, your most recent discovery, now that was incredible. All you had to do was look into someone’s eyes and they would become completely entranced to do whatever you told them.

Despite being over a hundred years old, neither Stefan nor Damon had ever seen a vampire quite like you.

They’d never seen a vampire who was also an empath, that, apparently, was usually more of a witch thing. Neither of them had ever come across a vampire bite which had a euphoric effect either. But having said all of that… they’d never heard of someone being turned from a wolf bite. Or a vampire who still had a beating heart, for that matter.

Your only real downfalls were that, for one, your blood’s healing capacity didn’t operate at the same speed for you as it did when being used to heal others. You’d put this down to the possibility that maybe your system had just grown too used to it. To be perfectly honest, though, you had no idea.

Secondly, your empathic tendencies were beginning to bring you down, but it wasn’t just that… it was the way in which you’d been instructed, by Damon Salvatore himself, on how to make them stop.

The plane ride home to California dragged on longer than you would’ve liked, the flight was delayed and you were absolutely starving by the time Derek picked you up from the airport. Your parents were still away, they’d travelled to Romania in search of answers to your predicament and they wouldn’t be home until at least next week, so that left Derek on chauffeur and babysitting duty.

“How are you?” He’d only spoken up thirty minutes into the car ride, you let out a sigh from the passenger seat and gave him a tired smile, you could feel the nerves radiating from him. He was afraid you’d be mad at him for killing Peter, and maybe you should’ve been, but again, you had a feeling he’d be back, and besides, spending time with Damon had helped you realise that everything wasn’t so black and white. It finally registered with you that people like Derek and Damon, the dark mysterious bad boys with secret hearts of gold- they sometimes did bad things but with good intentions.

Once you discovered this, you decided amongst yourself that you’d ease up on your not-really-big-brother in the future. Even if it meant you got hurt a little in the process. If hurting you was what he needed to do to learn his lesson then you’d be willing to make that sacrifice.

So you gave him a soft smile and answered, “Hungry.”

Derek let out a chuckle at that, nodding his head towards the backseat, drawing your attention to the three full blood bags laying on the leather seats.

A delighted gasp left your mouth as you snatched the plastic bags into your hands, wasting no time you stuck the attached tube into your mouth and began gulping the first bag down- it was definitely Stiles’ blood you were drinking, you’d gotten so used to the taste of it you were sure you could recognise it anywhere.

Letting out a happy groan you threw your head back against the headrest, “Stiles Stilinski you are a doll.”

Derek chuckled again, glancing at you fondly before his steely eyes returned to the road ahead.

It was only another 30 minutes before you were back in your driveway. “So are you staying here until my parents get back?” You questioned from the porch as Derek got your bags from the trunk of his car, the wolf shook his head with a smile, “Nah, I’ve got some stuff to do at home.”

“Derek, that home isn’t even structurally sound.” You chastised softly. Surely he’d be happier spending time with the family he still had breathing rather than living in the remnants of what used to be his.

Walking up to the porch, Derek placed your case down gently by your feet and moved himself to stand in front of you. A genuine smile painted his lips as he gazed at you, “New rule.” He stated, placing both of his hands on either of your forearms before going on, eyes staring affectionately into your own, “From now on, I will be doing all the worrying about you, alright? Not the other way around.”

With a defeated sigh, you nodded your head. “I’ll try my best.” That had been a lie. Unable to blind you with his unusually sweet sentiment, through the physical contact you could tell he was scheming.

“Good. Now, go get some rest I’ll come check up on you in the morning.” He kissed your forehead and then made his way back to his car, speeding out of your driveway and out of sight before you’d even unlocked the door.

The house was cold and empty when you’d re-entered. A shiver ran up your spine the second your feet stepped past the threshold. Something was very wrong, and unfortunately, you couldn’t tell what exactly it was that was so wrong. The feeling was unnerving, it was dark and it was agonisingly heavy. Like anxiety on steroids, lots of steroids.

Swallowing thickly, you gripped -more like clawed- at your chest. Nails scraping your skin as you attempted to catch a single breath, though it seemed that oxygen was determined to outrun you as you glanced around helplessly.

Almost twenty minutes has passed as you heaved and gasped frantically, overwhelming dread flooded your chest while simultaneously tears flooded your eyes, and still you didn’t have even the slightest idea of what it all meant.

And then it hit you. That panic- it didn’t belong to you.

Within a second you’d risen to your feet, breathing still staggered while you rushed out the front door, your vampire speed being put to good use as within seconds you were where your panic had led you. Night had fallen by now and it was completely dark, not to mention absolutely freezing, the hoodie you had on doing nothing to protect you from the biting cold in the air. The trail of feelings you’d been chasing had led you to Beacon Hills cemetery and before your eyes, there it was, the something that was very wrong.

Derek and Isaac. More specifically, Derek’s teeth buried in Isaac’s arm. You hadn’t even registered what you were doing when you ripped Derek from Isaac and violently threw him across the cemetery, the impact in which the Hale hit the tree all the way at the edge of the graveyard was a testimony to your strength. You hadn’t even used half it.

Without hesitation, you inspected Isaac’s body frantically, eyes lingering on the bloody bite across his right arm. Slowly and mournfully, your eyes met his, which were wide with shock. His heart was beating out of his chest to the point where you couldn’t ignore it.

“What did he do to you?” The question slipped out as a whisper, your anger melted away only to be replaced by dread as Isaac began to speak, “He offered me the bite and I- I said yes.”

“Isaac…” Your gaze drifted to the bite and you weren’t surprised to see it already healed. “I’m sorry.” You heard him mutter from above you, his anxiety pooling in your chest and mixing with his guilt.

Shaking your head softly you pulled him into you, your arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders while his own arms held you tightly against him as you kissed his temple to release him of the intense anxiety plaguing him. “Don’t be sorry. I understand.”

He relaxed against you upon hearing your words, the two weeks you’d been gone made him realise something, he was utterly useless without you, or so he thought. He felt weak. He felt as though if he didn’t have you as emotional support he was defective. Derek had honed in on that and manipulated it to his advantage, convinced Isaac that the bite was what he needed in order to be strong by himself. To keep you safe instead of you protecting him all of the time.

“Was that really necessary?” Derek’s voice broke the moment and you found anger was surging through you once again. You separated from Isaac to face Derek.

At this point, you didn’t care what his intentions had been, you weren’t going to let him away with this.

“I’m going to give you three seconds to explain why you did this.” As Derek moved to speak you ruthlessly cut him off. “Too slow.” And with that the back of your hand met his cheek, again sending him flying, only not as far this time.

His fangs were barred now, as were yours. Both of your eyes glowing, his red ones threatening as he attempted to demonstrate his power. And yet again, you had a revelation.

You couldn’t stop the laugh that fell from your lips, a synacal and sarcastic lilt to it as you towered over Derek’s form on the floor.

“Oh I get it!” You exclaimed, lip held between your teeth in mock disbelief you pressed your palm to your forehead as you spoke, “You thought you’d go around and stalk some kids so you could add to your big bad pack. Right?” He growled at you and attempted to pick himself up, only for you to give a swift, hard kick to his chest, returning his back to the dirt.

“I guess you told him it’d make him stronger? That it’d make all of his problems go away? And what about the Argent’s, huh? Did you tell him that you were manipulating him?” It was then, again in panic, Isaac spoke up to your surprise, in Derek’s defence.

“(Y/n), I promise it isn’t like that! He told me everything, it was my choice I said yes!” You spared him a glance before crouching down to Derek.

“Well did you tell him how you usually treat your pack?” The words were dripping in venom and the guilt that radiated from the man didn’t deter you from moving forward with you verbal attack, your head turning to Isaac, your eyes sparkling with sadness as you locked eyes with him, speaking hoarsely you wondered out loud, “Did he tell you that he’s a liar? That he doesn’t know how to run a pack? That if he doesn’t understand you he’ll leave you in the dust?”

The look on his face spoke volumes as he recalled the state Derek had put you in the weeks previous.

With a final sneer in Derek’s direction you delivered your parting words, “You better treat him better than you continue to treat me or so help me Derek Hale I will tear you to shreds.”

As you angrily stormed away, Isaac stood in confusion for a second before he began to chase after you, leaving Derek on the dirt floor to help himself.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n) please wait!” He shouted as he was just starting to catch up to you. When you felt that you were at a good enough distance away from Derek you finally slowed your pace.

When Isaac finally made it to your side, he was panting slightly, swallowing the lump in his throat he nervously grabbed your hand.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, his eyes resembling those of a puppy and you could already feel your composure slipping away from you as you looked at him.

It’d been almost three weeks since you’d seen him, three weeks since you’d made out in the school basement and this definitely wasn’t how you were expecting the reunion to go.

“Isaac it isn’t your fault. I’m not mad at you, ok? I get it. I’m just worried, this town isn’t exactly kind on the supernatural.” You reassured him gently, squeezing his hand and giving him a sad smile.

“Don’t worry about me.” Isaac told you and you had to laugh, “Sorry, babe but I will not be taking my eyes off you until this town becomes normal.”

Isaac’s face was then taken over by, what could only be described as, a Cheshire Cat smile, “Did you just call me babe?” His voice was teasing and you felt your face heating up despite your freezing temperature.

Sucking on the inside of your cheek you tried your best to conceal your growing smile, you shrugged innocently, “Yeah. What about it?” The playful lilt in your voice had his smile widening even more as he began to lean down to you, his face getting closer to yours by the second.

His breath fanned across your lips when he spoke next, “I liked it.” With that, his lips pressed to yours cautiously, as if he was still unsure of whether or not it was okay to do so.

His uncertainty melted away when he felt your lips begin to reciprocate his actions and your hands moved to cup his cheeks.

The both of you could agree that this kiss was different than the last one you’d shared a few weeks ago. “Why is it that we only ever kiss when one of us is coming out as a supernatural creature?” Isaac laughed against your lips as you pulled away with a sigh.

“It would be us wouldn’t it.”

After a few minutes of nagging at Isaac you managed to put all the pieces of Derek’s plan together. Isaac himself didn’t actually know all that much, just that he was the first to be turned, but that alone told you everything that you needed to know.

Derek was now an alpha with no pack, so logically, a pack was what he was building and that would have been perfectly understandable- if he hadn’t started with your best friend.

“There’s a full moon coming up, did he tell you what would happen?�� You questioned gently, ready to throttle Derek when the boy in front of you shook his head.

Heaving a deep breath you squeezed his hand reassuringly, the initial excitement of being turned had worn off and Isaac was beginning to radiate anxiety once again.

“Don’t worry okay? I’m gonna call Scott, he’ll be able to help you.” Isaac’s eyebrows came together in confusion, “Scott McCall?”

You nodded your head, “He’ll know how to help.” You tried to convince Isaac without spilling Scott’s secret. Not that it was going to stay a secret for too long, but it wasn’t your secret to tell.

Isaac shook his head rapidly, his hands moving to hold your forearms, his panic at your suggestion hitting you like a freight train as he stared into your eyes, a wild look in his own.

“No no no no. You can’t tell anyone. (Y/n) promise me you won’t tell anyone okay? If my dad finds out I’m a werewolf he’ll-“ The words came out almost as fast as you could run and his panic only intensified when his father entered his mind.

Quickly catching on to his looming panic attack as his eyes began to glow yellow you cut him off, “Isaac.”

He didn’t hear you as he kept rambling, claws growing past his nails and digging into your arm, “No he’ll kill me. Oh my god he’s gonna kill me. (Y/n) he’s go-“

Yes, it would’ve been easy to rip your arms from his grasp that was causing you quite a lot of pain as his nails sunk into your skin as his hands held onto you desperately. However, you had a feeling that his hold on your now bloody forearms was the only thing keeping him from spiralling completely out of control.

“Isaac! Look at me!” Your voice was strict but served to make his amber eyes finally settle on yours.

Gently, you finally slipped your arms out of Isaac’s clawed grip, although you were sure it would’ve been less painful to just leave them, his claws dragged down your arms while you lifted them slowly and cautiously until you replaced them with your hands, using your new grasp of the boy to provide him with some peace of mind.

You focused your energy on shifting a sense of relaxation from your own palms to Isaac’s sweaty ones as you spoke, voice soft again, “I’m not going to tell anyone. It’s just you and me, alright? Focus on me, yeah?” Isaac nodded his head, still slightly frantic but calmer than before as he did as you told and simply focused on you, “Take a deep breath.” You instructed, breathing steadily along with him until his eyes returned to their natural blue colour and his claws retracted.

A moment of silence passed with Isaac slumped against you, hands held tightly in his while he steadied his breathing. You placed your lips to his cheek and then again to the bruise forming beneath his right eye, you hadn’t noticed it earlier. You’d almost forgotten it’d been nearly three weeks since you’d been together, he’d probably been though it with his demon of a sperm doner over the time you were away.

“I’ve missed you.” It was Isaac that broke the silence when your lips disconnected from his injured face.

“I missed you too.” You replied simply, there was so much you’d planned on saying to him while you were in Mystic Falls but at the moment, you felt there were more pressing matters to discuss and again, it was Isaac who spoke.

He pulled away slightly to look at you properly, hands still clasping yours, he gave them a squeeze before he started speaking, “This pack that Derek’s building… I’m guessing you’re not in it?”

“I was never asked. But I’ve kind of already got a pack, which you are more than welcome to join.” You responded hopefully, wishing he’d agree but you knew he wouldn’t. As such a fresh beta he’d stay loyal to his alpha, but, you had to ask.

Isaac nodded his head sadly, “Scott McCall?” You let out a small laugh, at how quickly he’d caught on, “Yeah. He’s not exactly an alpha but he’s helped me out a lot, more than Derek has.”

“Derek told me that wolves are stronger as a pack, he didn’t say anything about vampires though.” Isaac went on, a confused lilt in his voice.

“I found out in Mystic Falls that vampires rarely belong to packs and by vampire nature I don’t need one, but Ric figures that it’s in my nature to want one since it’s all I’ve ever known.” You relayed the information to Isaac.

“Then why not, you know, join mine?” His lip was pulled between his teeth and he was looking at you with a hopeful expression.

“Isaac I just told you…” You said pleadingly, you didn’t want to upset him any further but you also couldn’t throw away the pack bond you’d built with Scott and Stiles when you’d first turned. If it was a matter of Isaac’s pack being made up of just Isaac there would’ve been no problems, it was the fact that it wasn’t Isaac’s pack but Derek’s.

Scratching what you’d decided about Derek earlier, you came to a new agreement with yourself: all of hell would freeze over before you even thought of easing up on Derek Hale.

Isaac threw his head back with a groan, “Come on, (N/n)! We are not going to let our love play out like Romeo and Juliet!” The way he spoke was humorous but it was obvious that he wasn’t really joking.

With a sigh you moved your shaking hands, that were now covered in scabbed over cuts as opposed to their previous status of raw and bleeding, to Isaac’s face. Your thumbs moved gently along his cheek bones as you took him in with an encouraging smile on your face as you told him confidently, “I refuse to let us become a modern day Romeo and Juliet, that’s not happening.”

You pulled him closer to you, slipping your arms around his shoulders and doing your best to ignore the butterflies rioting in your stomach when his arms wrapped tentatively around your waist.

You brought your lips to meet his briefly before fixing him with another determined look, “But listen to me, we might be loyal to different packs but I’m on your side, no matter what.”

Isaac nodded his head in understanding, “If it comes down to it, I’m always gonna choose you.” He responded honestly, arms tightening around you to hold you against his chest, his height causing his chin to be tilted downwards so that he could meet your eyes.

“I meant what I said to Derek, by the way.” You informed, Isaac’s eyebrows rose in confusion again, “If he mistreats you I’ll tear him apart.”

“Should I give Scott the same warning?” Isaac asked humorously and you had to shake your head in order to hold back a laugh.

It wasn’t until you’d separated from your embrace with Isaac that you took into account the fact that your body was now shaking with the cold.

“Come on, I’ve gotta call my dad and probably the sheriff and you’re freezing.” Isaac stated, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and leading you back to the cemetery where you noticed his overturned excavator and the dug up grave plot.

You listened with curiosity while Isaac spoke to his father on the phone, trying to explain exactly what had transpired in the last couple of hours since his shift started.

“How the hell does an excavator just flip over, Isaac?” You could hear his fathers anger through the line and Isaac fumbled for a response, “Someone, or something- I don’t know it could’ve been an animal, but it got pushed from the side and tipped over. I fell into the plot I was digging and that was it, I didn’t see the rest.” He explained weakly.

“You still stuck in hole, you idiot?” You watched as Isaac clenched his jaw and motioned to yourself when he was finally looking at you, “No. No, um, (Y/n) just got back from Virgina, she came looking for me and helped me out.”

“She still there?” His father questioned, seemingly cooling off at the mention of your name. You hated how much that man seemed to like you when he should’ve held that affection for his actual son.

“Yeah, she’s with me now.” Isaac confirmed and you offered up a fake cheerful, “Hi, Mr Lahey!”

“Invite her over while I call the sheriff and see about getting this mess cleaned up.” With that, he hung up the phone and Isaac sighed, “You’re starting to look like Mr. Freeze, let’s get you warmed up.” His arm stayed comfortably wrapped around your shoulder and as you reached up to hold his hand that was hanging over your shoulder you stopped dead in your tracks, “Isaac, I can’t go and greet your father looking like this.”

You motioned to your torn and bloodstained hoodie, immediately regretting it when his eyes widened in shock, “Did I… oh god (Y/n) did I do that?”

Not missing a beat you grabbed his hands and made sure you soothed his panic before you got a rerun of earlier.

“It’s not your fault. You’re new to this, okay? Mistakes happen and that’s fine it’s all part of the process. And look!-” You pulled off the hoodie to reveal your now completely healed arms and hands, nothing but dried blood to show that the claw marks were even there in the first place. “‘M all healed up! No harm done.” You reassured him, bringing his lips to yours to further convince him that you were okay and distract him from the guilt you could feel building within him.

Your arms, although no longer cut, were covered in goosebumps as Isaac ran his hands affectionately down the length of them. “It won’t happen again.” He promised and you gave him a shaky smile, teeth beginning to chatter, “Let’s go home?” Isaac nodded his head, nothing short of ripping his own hoodie off before pulling your arms through the sleeves and moving himself in front of you to zip it up.

You watched completely content as he fumbled with the zipper. His curls were falling in front of his eyes and his eyes were squinted in concentration. The quiet, but triumphant, “got it” he let out when he finally finessed the zipper had you grinning like a fool.

When he moved his focus from the zip and back to your face, he smiled bashfully, “What’re you looking at me like that for?”

The sleeves of his hoodie, that was miles too big for you, hung far past your wrists and brushed against the nape of his neck, your fingers finding a place tangled in his hair while you stared at him, grin ever present.

Your other hand was otherwise occupied being placed firmly against Isaac’s chest, enjoying the feeling of his rapidly beating heart, and you didn’t know it entirely. But in that moment it was beating for you and you alone.

Isaac’s hand made itself comfortable holding your waist, the other holding your own against his chest, keeping it in place.

Neither of you needed to say it. You could both feel it. But still, you found yourself uttering the words, “I love you.”

Not half a second had passed before Isaac echoed your declaration, “I love you.”

“I feel like if I kiss you right now I won’t be able to stop but I’m still freezing my ass off so… your place?”

Isaac nodded his head in agreement, “My place.”

Upon arrival at the Lahey residence, Mr. Lahey had greeted you with a wide smile and ushered you into the kitchen where he instructed Isaac to make you some tea, to which Isaac had to restrain a grumble as he’d been planning on doing it anyway.

Mr. Lahey was happily chatting away to you when Isaac set down two cups of tea, one in front of his father and one in front of you, his eyes lingering on you with a certain kind of glint before he turned back to the counter to grab his own cup and returning to sit beside you at the table.

Isaac was, in all honesty, losing it. He didn’t even know why. You were just sitting there, wrapped up in his hoodie, nose ever so slightly pink from the cold, talking politely to his father. It was nothing out of the ordinary but he was finding it hard to think about anything other than how his hoodie would look splayed on the floor of his bedroom.

He wasn’t very good at hiding it either, you could feel it as clear as day. Teenage boy hormones mixing with teenage werewolf hormones were causing havoc and it’d be a lie to say it wasn’t having an affect on you.

Trying to return your attention to whatever Mr.Lahey was babbling about you clearing your throat and took a sip of your tea, keeping your expression neutral as Isaac’s hand slipped to your knee under the table. His attempt to pull you into his mess of hormones was obviously successful as you found yourself ready to yell out in frustration when his hand stayed put on your knee for a solid twenty minutes before his father finally rose from the table.

“I’m going to check out the situation at the cemetery, you’re welcome to stay tonight, it’s pretty dangerous out there these days.” Mr. Lahey offered and you smiled innocently at him as he stood in the doorway, “I think I’ll take you up on that. Thank you.” The older man gave you a nod but said no more before walking out the front door.

“What the hell are you doing?” You finally burst when the front door clicked shut, whipping around to face Isaac.

“What?” He asked as if his hand didn’t start sliding further up your leg the second his father left the room.

You groaned, “Don’t ‘what?’ me when you’re about four centimetres from having your hand between my thighs!”

“Sorry.” He immediately retracted his hand, eyes wide as he realised how close his hand was to reaching the top of your thigh, “I, um, I didn’t mean to- I mean, I did mean to but i won’t do it again if you don’t want me to-“

“Isaac.” You cut him off, lip pulled between your teeth, “I want you to.” You declared and he let out a heavy sigh full of relief, “Thank God.” He muttered before he was pulling you up off the chair and right against his chest.

His lips immediately found yours and his hands were gripping your waist like there was no tomorrow.

At this point, the butterflies in your stomach were going absolutely bat shit feral when his lips began to trail past your lips, to your chin, then to the curve of your jaw. It was when his hand slipped deftly up your side to settle against your jaw that you realised just how much you’d been wanting this.

Isaac’s lips fell further to your neck and you couldn’t stop the hum of approval that escaped your mouth at the sensation of his soft lips sucking and licking at your pulse. “It this okay?” He asked in a mutter, the dainty and nervous nature of his voice contrasting greatly with the confidence and ferocity of his actions.

Your hands tugged gently at his hair to get him to meet you clouded eyes, when he looked at you you were sure that his eyes had flashed yellow, his breathing was getting heavy and you had an inkling that his lips on your neck was the most exciting thing that was going to happen between you tonight.

“It’s more than okay.” You told him with a dopey smile, letting out a laugh when he dived back into the crook of your neck, kissing your skin through a smile.

Despite your words your hands moved to his chest to push him away slightly, “But…” you started as Isaac threw his head back with a groan, “I think we should stop, and maybe revisit this after the full moon passes.”

After taking in a steadying breath Isaac nodded in agreement, “Yeah, you’re probably right.” His hand slipped into yours and he intertwined his fingers with yours, he spent a moment just looking at your linked hands with a fond smile and the look of achievement on his face. It was easy to tell, with the help of your empathic powers, that Isaac was proud of himself.

You yourself couldn’t quite pinpoint why he was feeling so prideful in the moment, but he knew. To be truthful he wasn’t just proud of himself, he was downright ecstatic. He’d been nothing more than your best friend since you were both eleven, and now, six years later he finally crossed the threshold from being your best friend to being your- well actually now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure what he is to you now.

A few hours passed before Isaac worked up the courage to ask the question that had formed in his mind after his make out session with you earlier.

The pair of you had since gotten comfortable in his bed, which was nothing particularly new. You laid on your side with your back to the bedroom door, Isaac was behind you, his chin tucked in between your shoulder and your neck with his arms around your torso holding you close to him.

“Can I ask you something?” His voice broke through the silence and you responded with a tired hum, adjusting his arm so you could snuggle closer and tried your best to stop yourself from falling asleep while he murmured softly in your ear.

“What are we?” He kept his eyes trained on the dark room ahead of him, his hand grabbing yours as you readjusted his arm and he absentmindedly began playing with your fingers, the action being successful in calming his nerves.

“What do you want us to be?” You asked sleepily in response, a small smile forming on your face as you heard his heartbeat speeding up.

Isaac let out a nervous breath against your neck and you held back a shudder at the feeling, “I was kind of thinking that all the kissing would make us a couple.” Letting out another sleepy hum, if it was even physically possible, you snuggled deeper into his hold. You sluggishly turned your head to place a light kiss against his cheek, “Then we’re a couple.”

#isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey #teen wolf x reader #folklore i.l #derek hale x reader

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eideticmemory · 5 years ago

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EVER SINCE NEW YORK III | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

Description: Description: I was messaged saying: “If you don’t write a young Matthew enemies to lovers fic featuring an obsession with sucking on boobs then what’s the point 😔.” So, here it is, folks! The ultimate College!Matthew fic.

PART 3! Read Part 2 here.

Soundtrack:

Hate U Btw - Rence.

Phases - Chase Atlantic.

Break From Toronto - PartyNextDoor.

Word Count: 4,647.

Rating: M.

Warning/Includes: Sexual intercourse, drinking, substance use, a bit of angst.

Spring, Sophomore Year.

South Beach,

New York.

“C’mon,” Claire said, putting her hands on your shoulders. “Give me a smile.”

You frowned.

“Let me see that pretty, pretty smile, [y/n].”

You sighed, rolled your eyes and gave her a toothless grin.

“Okay, that’s about as fake as it gets, but it’ll do,” she shrugged. She began to load up her car, “Just keep it on when Matthew gets here.”

You groaned, “I just don’t understand why he’s coming. Or why he has to ride with us. I’m gonna kill him.”

“Whoa, black mamba, it’s a 30 minute drive — barely. You’ll survive.”

“Okay, first of all, I don’t appreciate the Kill Bill reference, and second of all, 30 minutes is the perfect amount of time for me to not only kill your little boyfriend, but bury the body too.”

“Matthew is not my boyfriend,” Claire shook her head. “He is, however, coming on this trip with us. And you’re gonna be nice.”

“Why grandma, what big teeth you have,” you mocked.

“Shut up,” she laughed, closing the trunk.

Matthew strode up to the car, smiling and announcing his presence, “Hey, hot mamas,” he said, putting his arm around Claire. “Ready to go?”

She leaned her head on his shoulder, smiling ear to ear. “Yep, [y/n] and I were just discussing cinema.”

“Oh! My favorite topic,” he beamed. “We can continue it on the way there.”

Matthew broke away to take his place in the car, sitting in the backseat. You glared at Claire, your arms crossed.

“What big nose and ears you have!” She exclaimed, laughing before she could get out the words.

“Oh, God, shut up!” You giggled. “Get in the car, let’s go.”

The way there, you spoke two words to Matthew: “yeah” and “okay.” Despite his best efforts to strike up a conversation, you dodged him at every turn. Just like he had been doing for the past 3 months. Since returning from Christmas break, there’s been no sex, no conversations, not even a dm. If your friends noticed, they weren’t saying anything, probably just grateful the two of you weren’t arguing. But you could feel his eyes on you, watching you from the backseat. All the way to South Beach.

The entire group — all 9 of you — arrived at the same time, admiring the beach house as you pulled up. Claire parked in the driveway, two cars pulling in behind you. You led everyone up to the entrance and used the designated key to unlock the door. Everyone oohed and ahhed at the place. It was spacious, large, decorated to perfection. Not that you expected anything less from your aunt.

“[y/n]! This place is amazing!” Claire beamed. “Holy shit.”

“And it’s all ours for the week,” you chuckled. “There’s 5 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, the kitchen’s through there, and the pool’s out back.”

“Pool?”

“Pool,” you nodded. “Rooms are upstairs, if you guys wanna get settled.”

Claire and you set up your room together, packing your clothes into the dressers and heading down to the living room. Everyone gathered, sitting on the couches. Claire sat beside Matthew, laying her head on his shoulder. John opened all the windows in the space, claiming that he was letting in some fresh air.

“So,” John sighed. “What to do? What to do?”

“It’s a mystery to me,” Matthew shrugged.

“Yeah, well,” One of your friends said, pulling a bag of weed out of her purse. “It’s not a mystery to me.”

You laughed, “Huh, I knew I had this lighter in my pocket for a reason.”

A joint was quickly packed and passed around the room. When it got to you, you flicked at your lighter, but the flame wouldn’t ignite. “What the fuck?” You grumbled.

“Here,” Matthew said, reaching over to you. You held the rolled item between your lips and allowed him to use his lighter, setting flame to the end of the joint. You held each other’s gaze as it happened, probably for a bit longer than needed.

“Thanks,” you whispered, breathlessly.

He leaned back and gave you a smirk. Combine that with the weed entering your system, and you could feel your heartbeat between your legs.

It was a long week.

Lots of alcohol, lots of weed, and lots of sexual tension. Most nights Claire went to bed at 3 in the morning, stumbling in happy and sighing as she fell asleep. She always kissed your cheek first. Everyday was a beach day, or if you all were too lazy to go down to the beach or into town, you hung out by the pool.

Claire thought it was ridiculous that you had bought and packed seven different bikinis, but she had to admit, every single one was cute. You found different hairstyles to wear each day, dolled yourself up in bikinis all different colors of the rainbow, swam until you were walking around soaked. And it was killing Matthew. It was so much fun!

Two days before you were meant to leave, you had on your floral bikini, and you were prepared to bake in the sun at the pool.

“Ow!” John exclaimed, raising his shades from his face. Him and the other guys sat poolside, playing a game of cards. “Damn, [y/n], you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Is that your subtle way of telling me you like my bikini, John?” You giggled.

“The bikini...the body...” he whispered. “Come over here!”

You rolled your eyes and walked over to the group, allowing John to pull you into his lap, “Be my good luck charm.” He smiled. Your crossed your legs over his and watched the game in front of you.

“What are you guys playing?” You asked. You accidentally made eye contact with Matthew, who was watching you and John like a hawk. His eyes flickered back and forth between his cards and you two endlessly.

“Gin!” John replied.

“What? I thought we were playing go fish?”

“Go fish? What the fuck are you? 12?” John laughed. You shook your head and kissed John’s cheek, “Be nice, dude. Go fish is fun.” You chuckled. You got up from his lap and went to join the girls in the pool, stepping into the water.

“Nice of you to finally join us,” Claire said.

The group of you mainly stayed by the edge, holding shot glasses and knocking back liquor. By your third glass, the vodka had run right through you and you had to pee. So, you excused yourself and went inside to use the bathroom. Approaching the door, you went to place your hand on the knob, but were stopped by a muffled sound coming from inside.

“What the hell?” You whispered, and stepped in. There you found a very red Matthew, panting, his eyes closed, his hand around his cock and jerking himself off quickly. He halted when you entered, and stared at you, his mouth open in shock.

“I-I-“ you stuttered, trying not to look at his dick. You left, and quickly closed the door behind you.

You went upstairs to your room, locked the door, leaned against the wall and reached down to touch yourself. It was completely unexpected, and so unlike you. But all these memories of Matthew touching you and fucking you came rushing back, and you had to get this nut off before you exploded. You applied pressure to your clit through your bikini, until you were squirming and whimpering, and you came. You swear you almost said Matthew’s name.

The next day, you wore your royal blue bikini. The top tied in the front in a loose bow, and the bottom was lined with gold trim. After a day out shopping, everyone wound up hanging out at the pool once again. You did back strokes in the water, letting the sun shine on your face.

“Oof,” you huffed, bumping into someone behind you. You opened your eyes and turned around, facing them.

“Watch where you’re going. You’re not the little mermaid,” Matthew scoffed.

“Shut up, Matthew,” you spit. “Could you be more of a jackass?”

“Actually yeah,” he nodded. “I could be.” He reached out, quickly undoing your bikini top and watching as your chest was exposed.

You yelped and held your boobs in your hands, “Ah! Matthew!”

“Nice,” he grinned, his gaze focused on your breasts. “Very nice.”

You glared at him as he swam away.

Later that night, Claire was putting on a pair of dangling earrings, and her hair was down over her shoulders, curled to perfection. “You sure you can’t come out, [y/n]?” She asked.

“I’m positive,” you murmured, sadly. “My ballet instructor deciding now was the perfect time to make an online quiz due. It’s gonna take me a while, I’m sorry.”

Claire frowned and sat across from you. Both of you were perched in the kitchen, sitting around the island counter. While everyone was dolled up and ready to go out, you sat in your wet bikini and an oversized shirt. “No, don’t apologize. But after spring break, we’re going to your instructor’s house and leaving a bag of crap on her porch.” Claire said.

You chuckled, “Real mature, Claire.”

“I’m gonna miss you,” she sighed. “And if you do finish in time, give me a call and I’ll run back to pick you up.”

You gave her a smile, “You got it. Now, go, go! Don’t worry about me. You guys have fun.”

Claire blew a kiss to you and rose to her feet, exiting the kitchen and joining the others in the living room. You continued to work on your laptop as they filed out of the house and closed the door behind them. You took a carton of ice cream from the fridge and ate from the pint, mindlessly clicking buttons to complete the quiz.

“Come for a swim with me.”

“Ah!” You jumped, hand clutching your chest. “What the fuck?”

“Come for a swim with me,” Matthew repeated, storming into the kitchen and over to you.

“What?”

“Come for a swim with me,” he grabbed your arm. “C’mon, c’mon.”

“Matthew, no!” But you let him drag you away, watching as he grabbed a bottle of rum off the counter. “I have work to do!”

“It’s due at 11:59,” he told you, leading you out to the pool. “So you have...” he checked his phone. “Well over two hours.”

“And I don’t want to spend any of that time with you.” You enunciated, yanking your arm from his grasp.

“Aw, man,” he sighed. “That sucks. I thought you would’ve wanted this.” He held up a metal object, and when you focused your eyes on it, you noticed it was your ballerina. The one he’d given you.

“Hey!” You exclaimed, lunging towards him and attempting to grab the item. “What are you doing with that? Give it here!” You jumped on him, reaching high and using all your might. But Matthew was tall, and holding it way above his head. He laughed at you, keeping the prize far from you.

“Tell me, why do you keep this with you? Must be important.” He teased. He stepped backwards, holding the ballerina up in the air.

“What the hell are you doing going through my stuff?” You shouted, following him.

“Needed leverage,” he shrugged. “You want it?” He removed his shirt. “Come get it.” He stepped into the pool, a loud splash erupting around his figure. But he kept your figurine above the surface.

“This is childish! Give it back, and leave me alone!” You marched up to the edge of the pool, hands balled up in fists at your side.

“Okay,” he shrugged. He walked up to you, the ballerina extended out for you to grasp. You reached out for it, and just before you could take it away from him, you were being pulled forward. Into the pool.

You fell in with a yelp, holding your gift against your chest. You squirmed around underwater until you forced your way to the surface, your jaw dropped and your hands quickly wiping at your eyes.

“What the fuck?” You shouted. You blindly placed your ballerina on land, taking care to make sure she didn’t get lost.

When you turned around, Matthew was right behind you. His eyes were focused in on your lips. His hands were steadily snaking around your waist. And before you could back away, he kissed you. Softly, slowly, holding you close.

“Stop,” you muttered. Another kiss.

“Stop what?” Another kiss. “I’m not doing anything.” You held his face in yours hands and let your lips work together in unison.

“Wait,” you pulled away. “We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” Matthew mumbled, kissing your neck. “We’re so good at it.”

“Claire...”

“Is not my girlfriend,” he stopped, and looked you in the eye. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“But she likes you.”

“I like...you.”

You gulped, “You don’t like me.”

“Says who?”

“Says me! You just like...my...my...goodies.”

He cackled, “You’re goodies? Well...they are good.”

“Shut up!” You rolled your eyes.

“They’re great actually,” Matthew gave you another kiss. “In fact...” A kiss. “I’d like to see some of those goodies right now if you don’t mind.” His hands slid under your shirt and pushed it up your hips, up your waist, until he was pulling it over your head. You were left in your blue bikini, and Matthew nearly drooled at the sight.

He leaned in and kissed your jaw. His lips trailed down to your collarbone, and then to your chest. He gropped your boobs in his hands and placed kisses on your sternum. He caught the string to your bikini top between his teeth, and took long strides away from you. All you could do was watch him, feel the fabric looseing on your body. When he took one finally step, the whole bow came undone and your boobs were exposed.

“Come here,” he whispered, looking intently at your chest. His voice drew you into him, and you let him pull you close and wrap his lips around your nipple.

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned. He was so, so good at this. He used the right amount of pressure and suction. His tongue twirled around the bud and his saliva dripped onto your skin. Soft hums vibrated against your chest, and his hand made it’s way between your legs.

“Your tits are so nice,” he whispered.

You looked down at him, then at your boobs. “They’re tiny.”

“They’re perfect,” he transitioned to sucking on the other nipple, and his fingertips rubbed your clit lightly.

When he kissed your lips, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and held his body against yours. Your legs latched onto his torso, and he took this as an invitation to push you against the pool wall. On instinct — horny, horny instinct — the both of you reached down and touched each other. You freed his cock from his swim trunks and he pulled your bikini bottoms to the side.

Staring into your eyes, Matthew pushed into you. Slowly at first, and then slamming the rest of the way in. You gasped, and your head rolled back, along with your eyes.

“Fuck,” he cupped your hand in his hands. “You’re so hot.”

He kissed your neck as he fucked you, rhythmically and roughly. The water splashed against your skin, the sound overlapping with your quiet moans. You gripped onto Matthew’s hair, and reveled in the sound of his groans in your ear.

You bit down on your lip, muffling your whines. Matthew took your jaw in his hand and tilted your head down to kiss you. You panted against his lips, whimpering as he your back tapped the wall behind you.

“How long you think we got until they get back?” He mumbled.

You chuckled under your breath, “If my memory is correct, you’re not gonna last that long anyways.”

“Oooooouch!” He exclaimed, suddenly cut off by a breathy moan. He buried his face in your neck, “Not this time, princess. Not this time.”

While you guys were preoccupied outside, the front door to the house opened up. “[y/n]!” Claire sang. “I know you said to leave you alone, but I passed that ice cream place you like and I brought you some. Gube too.” She giggled, walking through the house. “I also — maybe, definitely — wanted to see if you two were ready to come out. Come on, we’re eating at this cute little Mexican place down the street, you should —“

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, Matthew’s fingers pressed against your clit and rubbing in gentle circles.

“Mm, you gonna come?” Matthew purred. “Wow, I’m good.”

“S-shut up,” you stuttered. “Fuck. Fuck, keep going.”

Claire stood in shock, watching from inside and peering through the glass door. She stumbled back into the kitchen, placing the bag of ice cream on the counter. She blinked away the tears in her eyes, and gulped. And she left.

Clueless, you let your orgasm wash over you. Your body trembled, and Matthew pushed his cock all the way into you as you rode it out. The sensation sent ripples of pleasure throughout your body and you fell weakly against him. “Matthew,” you whimpered.

His eyes went wide, and he pushed your hair back. “You said my name.”

“Hm?”

“You said my name,” he repeated. “Say it again.”

His hips bucked into yours and he picked up his pace, his jaw dropping as he watched your face. His nails dug into your thighs, “C’mon please?” He begged.

You looked at him in a daze, tracing his collarbone with your finger and hooking it in his chain. “Matthew,” you whispered. And it was like you were saying it to yourself, convincing yourself this was real. “Matthew.”

The sound of your voice nearly sent him over the edge and he pulled out of you, huffing and puffing. “Wait,” you panted. “Wait, I want you to come.”

He chuckled, “We’ve got some time.”

And you guys made the most of it.

You fished your shirt out of the pool, grabbed your ballerina and headed inside. Once changed into new clothes, Matthew sat beside you as you finished your quiz. He didn’t quite understand how you could be quizzed on matters of ballet, and you didn’t quite feel like explaining so you kissed him to shut him up. Which subsequently led to you closing the laptop and letting him carry you upstairs. Not forgetting the rum.

You wound up on your bed, face down, ass up. Matthew held onto your hips, and pounded into you mercilessly until you were nothing but a puddle of moans. You could smell the alcohol on his breath, feel his body tensing up with each thrust, and you gripped onto the bed sheets tightly. Matthew upheld his promise to make the experience long and pleasure, making you come twice before he even came close. He reached down and slid his fingers into your mouth, which you sucked on willingly. He released himself onto your back, following it with a swift slap on your ass. He used his shirt to clean you off.

With a few more hits of alcohol, Matthew asked you to show him some ballet moves. So, you started with the basics. But when he attempted the movement, he nearly broke his ankle and fell to the floor. You broke out into hysterics.

“You’re druuuuuunk,” you sang, sinking down to the floor to join him.

“So are you!”

“But I can do ballet drunk,” you shrugged. “It’s a gift.”

“Hm,” he hummed, pulling you into his lap. “Wanna see what I can do drunk?”

Turns out, he couldn’t really do it that well, so you had to ride him. It was still good, and you let him come in your mouth. He was ecstatic.

Laying on the floor at 1 in the morning, you finished off the last of the rum and snuggled into Matthew’s side. “Got any gas?” He asked.

“No, I don’t have to burp.” You replied.

He laughed, “I meant weed, dumbass.”

“Weed? What the hell do you need weed for? Aren’t you drunk?”

“I’m...semi-drunk. You knocked most of that back yourself, Jack Daniels.”

“Okay, look, if you’re gonna call me nicknames, can you atleast pick one and stick with it?”

He sighed and shrugged, “Yeah. Which one’s your favorite?”

“None of them!”

“Well, pick one, princess!”

You thought for a moment, silent. “Princess,” you whispered.

“What?”

“Princess is my favorite.”

He smiled at you, but you weren’t looking. “Okay. You got it.”

“Hey, Matthew?” you called, sitting up and looking down at him. He was shirtless, laid out with his necklace glimmering against his skin.

“What’s up?” He replied.

You picked at the carpet as you spoke, “Why...why did you stay tonight?”

“Huh?” He tilted his head.

“Why did you stay tonight?” You repeated. “Why didn’t you go out with everyone else?”

He looked at you, and licked his lips, like he was thinking up a response. “I—“ He was cut off by the sound of a car pulling up outside, doors being shut, loud chatter.

The two of you hopped up at lightning speed, fixing your clothes. You kicked the rum bottle under your bed and Matthew balled up his stained shirt. He rushed out of your bedroom and you stood there out of breath. As soon as you turned around, you heard running coming your way. You turned back to face the door, and there was Matthew, marching up to you. He grabbed your face in his hands and kissed you. It was a long kiss, a nice kiss.

He left without a word, and you crawled into bed with a smile on your face. Matthew made it into his bed before everyone came upstairs. You faced the wall, pretending to be asleep.

“Awwwwwwwwwwww!” Claire exclaimed as she barged into the room. “Look at little [y/n]!”

“Claire,” your friend whispered. “Shh, you’re gonna wake her up.”

“[y/n]’s my best friend, y’know?”

“I know, honey.”

“I love her and...I just hope she loves me.”

“C’mon, let’s get you in bed.” Your friend helped the very drunk Claire into bed, removing Claire’s shoes then laying her down on the mattress and covering her up.

“Goodnight, [y/n]!” Claire shouted.

You stayed silent, clutching your ballerina figurine in your hand.

Sunday morning, it was time for all of you to leave and head back to school. You woke up early and applied makeup to cover the hickies on your neck. By the time everyone was up and packing, your stuff was already squared away in bags. You sat in the kitchen, eating pop tarts, and leaving everything the way your aunt asked. Everyone said hi to you as they passed the kitchen, and they eventually landed in the living room.

“Morning,” A voice called to you.

You turned to see Matthew standing there, smiling at you. “Good morning,” you pipped. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like a baby. You?”

“Also like an infant,” you nodded. “Ready to head to school?”

“Almost,” he whispered. He walked up to you and kissed you softly, his hand holding your jaw.

You sighed happily and pulled away. “Are you ready now?” You asked.

“Hm, not quite,” he shook his head.

He kissed you again, and put his hand on your thighs, dangerously close to your core. “Okay, dude,” you slapped his hand away. “Don’t get crazy. Everyone’s in the living room.”

“So?”

“So...we can’t do anything here.”

“Oh, yes,” he whispered against your lips. “We can. You’ve just gotta be quiet.”

You tried. Tried to be quiet. But Matthew had you sat on the island, shorts and panties pushed the side and his cock buried inside you. He had to cover your mouth with his hand as he thrusted into you. His teeth sunk into his lip, to the point blood was drawn. You could taste it. You tightened your legs around his waist, eyelid lowered in lust. He gave you a questioning nod, and you replied with a slight motion of your head to let him know you were good.

“[y/n]!” Claire called.

You and Matthew quickly broke apart. You hopped off the island, Matthew fixed his pants. You sat in the chair like nothing happened and Matthew left the room through the second exit. Claire came around the separate entrance.

“Hey,” she said. “Ready to go?”

You smiled, “I am now.”

The ride back to school was much shorter. Nothing but music filled the car, Claire being too hung over to talk. Upon arriving at school, Matthew walked the two of you up to your dorm room.

“Need me to help with your bags?” He asked.

“I’m fine,” Claire shrugged. “Talk to you later, Gube.”

“You alright?” He questioned her.

“Yeah. Hangover.” Claire sadly walked into the room, head hung low.

“She’s a lightweight,” you told Matthew. “She’ll be back to normal soon.”

“Right,” he nodded. “So. See ya.”

“See ya.”

Around midnight, he requested to add you on snapchat again. You accepted. His first snap to you was a selfie with one caption:

show me ur tits 🥴🥴

no 😠

please 🥺

You sighed, looked over at Claire who was fast asleep, and lifted your shirt over your chest. Took you five tries, but you took the perfect one. He opened it within 10 seconds. Then he was video chatting you.

“Hello?” you whispered.

“Where’s your face?”

“I took it off for the night. What do you want?”

“I wanna see you.”

“What? No! Go to bed.”

“You can come over. Please. Please. I’m begging.”

“I hear you begging,” you scoffed. “It’s almost one in the morning.”

“Yeah.”

“We have class tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”

“And I’m tired.”

“Just come let me suck on your tits. Five minutes, no sex, I promise.”

Yeah, right.

You came back to your room — your panties stuffed in your pocket, your hair wild, your lips swollen, throat sore, walking a little funny. You got a good night’s sleep.

Life got easier when you started listening to your body. A lot better, a lot more orgasmic. For the next month, Matthew and you got it in, whenever. Wherever. If you crossed paths on the way to class, you often didn’t make it to the lecture. When out with friends, you’d end up in the bathroom, with you bent over the sink and Matthew holding onto your hips. When you looked up in the mirror, you could see his necklace bouncing against his chest, his head thrown back.

There was something about Matthew that made you unbelievably horny and weak and impulsive. A very dangerous combination. Add that to the fact that he was admittedly not as annoying as you originally believed, and you were having a blast. However, you knew it was a means to an end. That summer would once again separate you two and there was a good chance he’d forget all about you.

When he came to say goodbye to Claire for summer break, you answered the door and had to tell him she left already.

“What?” He replied. “She didn’t tell me she was leaving.”

“Oh,” you hummed. “Um, do you want me to call her?”

“No, no. That’s alright,” he shook his head. “So...you leaving yet?”

“Nope. I leave tomorrow.”

“Cool,” he looked side to side, checking that no one was in the hallway. Then, he focused back on you and pressed his lips to yours. He pushed his way into the room and you let him, closing the door behind him.

Afterwards, he let you lay with his head on his chest, his arm around your waist. You knew it may not be forever. But it was now. And it was nice.

[PART 4.]

#mine #college!matthew #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler imagine #mgg #mgg smut #mgg imagine

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tintinwrites · 4 years ago

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Sunday Morning With Pedro Characters but I’m Only Slightly an Asshole to the Characters

I love Pedro and everyone’s fics and headcanons for him and I’m kind of nice in this one anyway.

Agent Whiskey

you have brunch every Sunday and yes it is at Denny’s

it’s a little nice, though, listening to the mixed conversations of all the other people in the restaurant as the two of you quietly enjoy a meal

Jack keeps smiling across the table at you and it makes something in you flutter

“You make a man like myself enjoy Sunday morning like a black-bellied whistlin’ duck enjoys a quiet swim in the crick.”

you’re not sure how much a black-bellied whistling duck enjoys a quiet swim in the crick, but he reaches across the table to hold your hand over your Grand Slam and runs his thumb gently over your skin and you then understand everything about black-bellied whistling ducks

brunch is followed by a drive in that thing he calls a car

sometimes you go back to your or his place and canoodle (his words, not yours), but then there are times when he parks his car in a secluded little spot and you “come across the goods” (HIS WORDS, NOT YOURS) in the backseat

Sunday mornings with him are relaxed, but you are going to end up with your legs above your head thanks to that Southern charm

Comandante Veracruz

he sleeps in for an entire half hour

wakes you up with a smack to the ass so hard you wake up in another dimension

you mumble something to him about being a normal human being as he presses sucking, biting kisses along the side of your neck

“Your breakfast is ready.”

you know exactly what he means don’t even pretend you don’t it’s pressing into your thigh

and you suck his dick bc it’s fun and it makes him real soft afterwards (in two ways!)

he pounds two orgasms out of you with his fingers then gets up to get ready for his day

Sunday mornings with him are sexual obvs and then you lay in bed watching him gel his hair until he pats your ass and tells you to get up

Dave York

he’s never in bed when you wake up and that includes on Sundays

always sitting over a desk working on something that he won’t tell you about

it doesn’t really matter that you’re wearing his favorite sexy little nightgown and pouting in the doorway bc he doesn’t even look at you

“Go for a walk or something, I’m busy.”

you usually end up alone eating bland af eggs bc he doesn’t own seasonings since, and you quote, “Salt is spicy enough.”

but then he comes into the dining room with a self-satisfied smirk and he kisses your temple and takes you over the dining table real quick

do i mean quick

Sunday mornings with him are lonely and then sweaty...so sweaty...you don’t understand how he can sweat so much from thirty seconds of sex

Din Djarin

whatever the Star Wars equivalent of Sunday is, no one is the same with Din

sometimes you’re with him on a hunt for a bounty, sometimes you’re alone on the Razor Crest to watch the Child as he works, and then there are your favorites

no bounties, no running, just a handful of credits and some good food and lodging on the nearest good planet

“He likes it here.”

this is something Din muses as he watches the kid play with other younglings or explore or happily eat a new food

but sometimes you look up to find he’s staring at you as he says it and you wonder if he’s talking about himself without really telling you

you’ll probably tell him you love him on one of these days

Sunday mornings with him are different, but nice just because you’re with him. You especially like the ones where he’s happy and almost calm and let’s you in his room once the Child is asleep

Ezra

you’ve been up for an hour and he’s still passed out, face down in bed, snoring his head off

I don’t know if ‘noon’ exists in this world but that’s when he’ll be up

you’re walking around doing what needs to be done when you see him looking up at you with a little smile

“Your inimitable beauty is even more prominent in this morning light.”

you tell him it’s not morning and roll your eyes when he says he’s hard either way

he seems sleepy but he WILL jump out of bed if you try to walk away and drag you back in with him

yes he eats your pussy without you needing to ask him

Sunday mornings with him are lazy for him as you occupy your time, then both of you stay in bed all lazy until it’s time to go prospecting

Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales

the only way you’re waking him up before eleven is by wiggling your ass or hips into his dick, depending on the position you were sleeping in

he works hard and Sundays are his day where he does nothing but you

a little sleepy and mumbling things, he’ll take you slowly and sweetly

“G’morning. So beautiful. You like that?”

he’ll make sure you both cum then promptly pass out for another ten minutes

he pads into the kitchen with his hair stuck up all over the place and wraps his arms around you from behind, kissing your neck for a few minutes before helping you make breakfast or lunch

you pretty much eat and bang all day

Sunday mornings with him are soft and sensual and the most loving thing e v e r

Javier Peña

you woke up alone before Javi and when you first started sleeping with him

you couldn’t really blame him for being scared of attachments in his line of work. you were scared too

then one day you were shaken from a stakeout and you begged him to stay when he was still inside you, and he started falling asleep in your bed a bit more often

“You need some good dick in the morning?”

he teases you with this when he's sitting up in bed, turned away from you as he takes a drag of a cigarette, and you crawl over to kiss his back

you need him in the morning but you don’t want to scare him off

the two of you usually end up with some sort of pastry or street food for breakfast, which you eat in a comfortable silence

Sunday mornings with him are lonely even when he’s standing right there by the window with a cigarette or a drink, and yet he finally makes your Sundays enjoyable and fulfilling

Marcus Pike

he’s an early riser, but he let’s you sleep as long as you need to when there’s nothing to be done

sometimes he accidentally wakes you up a little when he’s kissing your nose for the eight time and he quickly backs away to let you fall back asleep

he does try to wake you up before noon just to be sure you eat something, presenting you with some kind of breakfast whether he made it or bought it from the nearest cafe

“Hey, sleepyhead. You need to eat something, beautiful.”

you nibble on a doughnut or a bagel as you lean into his chest, and he mostly steals bites because it makes you laugh

morning sex with Marcus is the best sex with Marcus

okay any sex with Marcus is the best sex with Marcus because he cares so much about your pleasure but morning sex is so soft and gentle

Sunday mornings with him are like...a breeze on an empty beach with the waves crashing gently on the shore. Perfect. Also he wants to give you a life, and a home, and a family if you want it

Maxwell Lord

wakes up at six AM exactly, works on his hair until seven, and is in a suit and downstairs by 7:15

he reads the paper. the business pages. yes.

you come down to the kitchen at eight and as you gently tell his personal chef what you’d like to eat, he snaps his fingers at them to speed it up

“Someone’s lazy today. Where are my slippers?”

he’s a fuckin jerk but hey he puts his hand on your thigh as you eat breakfast and maybe his thumb rubs little circles sometimes

your Sunday sex is scheduled for 9:30 and he will do it wherever he’s flexible and there’s enough mirrors in the house for it to work for him

the one day of the week he decides you can orgasm tbh

Sunday mornings with him are rich. I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s like being married to a rich man in 1954. There’s waffles.

Max Phillips

this man wakes up pretty damn early for a vampire thanks to his executive bullshit

an actual Sim who stands in front of the mirror for an hour practicing his speech

he finds blood to drink somewhere and you just let him as long as it’s not from you

“Selling is service. Service is selling. Sex sells. Oh, hey!”

that’s him realizing you’re standing there and thinking about sex with you

he mentions making a sex tape of the two of you to sell and you ask if he even shows up on film and the boy POUTS

a handjob fixes that tho so

Sunday mornings with him are...interesting.

Oberyn Martell

you’re probably still fucking from Saturday night

I don’t even know if days of the week exist in Game of Thrones thanks

there are other people in the room including Ellaria so it’s not just you and him alone

“I’m starving for you.”

yes he eats pussy for breakfast and someone else is probably sucking on your titties

you’ll probably end up sucking his dick for your own breakfast

and you’ll be riding him too

Sunday mornings with him are like any other morning with him; fuckin’.

Pero Tovar

he wakes up an hour before sunrise

doing men’s work I DO NOT KNOW WHAT MEN DO

you wake up and make him his breakfast because that’s what a good 1100′s wife does

“Good morning, woman.”

he eats like he’s angry at the food but you know he loves it

there wasn’t much to do back then so some good ole baby-making sex is next

then you cook his second breakfast duh

Sunday mornings with him are very Middle Ages.

#javier peña x reader #din djarin x reader #marcus pike x reader #frankie catfish morales x reader #i tagged it #bc I'm being nice #I mean I'm a little bit mean #but it's mostly nice :P

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sourwolphs · 4 years ago

Text

Like an Animal - Bucky x Reader (6/8)

Read on Ao3 (for better interface + formatting)

Summary: Reader is an enhanced Omega kidnapped by Hydra and trapped in a cell with Alpha Bucky Barnes. Tags: A/B/O, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending Warnings: Rated M, Self-hating inner dialogue A/N: I ended up writing this chapter from both Reader's and Bucky's perspective because I couldn't choose between them, and had to puzzle piece my favorite parts together.

A few hours after Steve left, Bucky found himself dozing slightly on the couch in his dark living room. He’d long abandoned his book on the side table, leaving an old black and white rerun of The Lone Ranger on mute on the TV, flashing light across his stretched out form.

When he’d first come back to the compound, before Shuri had removed the words from his brain in Wakanda, he’d spend many nights outside of his body, doing nothing just like this— the sound of the TV too overstimulating, words on the page swimming away from comprehension, unable to focus on anyone or anything for long. Instead, he’d just sit and drift, letting his mind go blank. Sam had called it “disassociating”— whatever the fuck that means. He hadn’t been like this in a few years— this out of himself— not after Wakandan’s powerful therapies helped him escape some of the more acute terrors of his brain.

He was startled out of his state by a soft knock on the door. He felt a flash of irritation at Steve’s overprotectiveness, before his hackles raised as he scented Y/N of all people faintly through the door. He jumped up in a panic from the couch, his socked feet silent on the floor as his eyes took a rapid inventory of his apartment. There was a sweaty pile of gym clothes on the other side of the couch that he first hurled into his closet. Then, he flicked on the lamp and the soft kitchen light, quickly looped his fingers through a few mugs cluttering the coffee table, and dropped them in the sink before he approached the door.

Without allowing himself to think too hard about why she was here— Did she figure out the gifts? — or take a deep breath— he opened the door.

Despite his held breath, her scent hit him all at once— a rush of spicy-sweet peppermint, the crisp, clean smell of snowfall— strong enough with its source right in front of him that it burned his nose a bit on the inhale. Bucky swore his heart skipped several beats.

She was dressed in a cozy-looking, quarter zip pullover and a comfortable pair of black joggers, just like the kind that Nat wears— functional, clean lines, hugging her form in all the right places. Her hair was slightly mussed, as if she’d just gotten up from the couch after a nap. It was so cozy, so domestic, it made his heart ache with renewed want. But underneath her sweet peppermint smell lay the warm and familiar newspaper-ink scent of Steve. Paired with her cozy, slightly disheveled state, it was as if she had just extricated herself from his arms to show up at Bucky’s door.

Bucky’s inner Alpha fought between roaring in possessive rage and wilting in cowed rejection, but he forced his expression into careful neutrality.

They stared at each other for a moment, neither speaking. Her facial expression looked stricken, and Bucky realized how weird he was being. He’d puffed out his chest without noticing— all Alpha instinct and posturing at the whiff of Steve’s scent— and he quickly readjusted, folding his form into a more relaxed lean against the door.

What do you say to the gorgeous Omega you violated, avoided for a month, and then left creepy gifts to when she shows up at your door at 10pm? Before he could mumble out something to break the awkward silence, she interrupted the panicked swirl of his thoughts.

“Hi,” she said. Her voice was high and tight, like she was trying not to inhale. Even Steve had said his apartment smelled. He felt shame curl tight in his gut, and he had to stop himself from closing the door to shut himself and his depressing stench away. “I’m sorry, I came here to talk to you about something, but I’m feeling kind of— dizzy?” Y/N’s expression looked dazed, and she started to sway a little on her feet.

Bucky’s Alpha instincts immediately kicked into overdrive, urging him to scoop her into his arms, hold her tight, snuggle her into his den until she was healthy and clear-headed. But now that she was here, the rational part of his brain was much more terrified at the possibility of scaring her off. Act. Normal.

“Do you want to sit down?” he said, swallowing hard as he opened his door further. Inviting an unbonded Omega into an Alpha’s den was toeing the line of socially acceptable— at least when he was growing up in the 30s— but she didn’t seem fazed by the invitation, nodding and slipping inside. He gestured towards the couch, giving her a wide enough berth that she wouldn’t feel caged in— surrounded by his scent as she was— and she chose to sit in the same, still-warm spot where he’d just been lying, sinking back into the couch cushions. Bucky felt equally satisfied and pained at the thought that her smell would cling to his favorite spot for weeks. He plopped across from her in the armchair where Steve had been just hours before, aiming for nonchalance.

“Sorry,” she said again, waving her hand next to her head. “I think I’m just… overtired or something.” She yawned, kitten-like. His Alpha roared inside him, fingers twitching with the urge to reach out, to touch, but he held himself perfectly still.

“It’s okay,” he said. “So…” He trailed off, clearing his throat awkwardly. Bucky Barnes, ladies and gentleman. God, he was a fucking loser.

Y/N took a deep, steadying breath, bracing her hands on her thighs. “I came here to apologize.”

——-

After the movie ended and Sam finished showing us 6 deleted scenes and 10 YouTube interviews, I finally slipped quietly out of my new blanket nest and away from the steadying comfort of the Alpha-Omega sandwich. I paced for a bit in the hallway outside Bucky’s room, gearing myself up for what would likely be an awkward confrontation with a man I knew well intimately but hardly personally. As much as I’d like for him to sweep me off my feet and into the safety and comfort of his den, he’d probably tell me I was delusional and that he was avoiding me because he wanted to be left alone. That’s why I figured it was probably best to start with an apology.

What I did not prepare for during my anxious pacing was the overwhelming Alpha scent that washed over me the minute he opened the door. It was like getting hit in the face by a truck full off pheromones designed specifically to reduce me to a shivering, keening puddle on the floor. Every clever thing I planned to say flew right out the window as I swayed under the strength of his gaze and the delicious cedar wood and bonfire scent that curled around me.

Inside his apartment wasn’t any better. I should have asked to meet on neutral ground, I thought immediately after stepping through the door. Everywhere smelled like him. Even the couch underneath me was still warm from where he was probably curled up before I’d interrupted. It took all my strength to quiet the dizzying rush of hormones in my head, breathe in deeply through my mouth, and spit out what I came here to say.

“I came here to apologize,” I said, gulping down the ridiculous, submissive words my hindbrain wanted to follow up with. I’m so sorry, Alpha. It wasn’t my fault. I can be better for you.

Bucky looked… confused. “Apologize?”

“Yes. Apologize,” I said, feeling my cheeks heat up with embarrassment. “I know we… did what we had to do. When we were trapped. And I’m sorry that I… reacted the way I did. I know heats are really intense. For everyone. I know I made you uncomfortable, and you probably don’t want anything to do with me.” I paused again, biting hard on my lower lip as my stomach roiled with embarrassment. I looked down at my lap, where I was digging my fingers hard into my thighs, and forced out the last few words. “But I couldn’t help it. And I’m sorry I went into heat. I think it was the purring. I’ve… never felt that. Before.”

I didn’t look up from my lap at first, wincing internally. Bucky’s silence after my lousy attempt at an apology hurt worse than anything so far. The least he could do is acknowledge that it wasn’t my fault.

I took a shaky inhale, and felt a lump build up in my throat. Goddamnit. Don’t fucking cry. Not now.

“I— This was a mistake,” I said, sniffling hard and willing the tears rapidly welling up in my eyes not to fall. I finally looked up from my lap, bracing myself to stand and backtrack the hell out of here, when I simultaneously saw the look on Bucky’s face and caught the scent of absolutely devastatedAlpha.

“Don’t leave,” he said, voice deep and rough, on the edge of an Alpha command. I froze instantly, though it wasn’t because he’d compelled me to. Alpha commands only worked on their bonded Omegas and their offspring.

No, I froze because Bucky looked… heartbroken. It was the only time I’d seen an ounce of vulnerability on his face, besides that moment in the cell when he’d first realized he was falling into a chemically-induced rut. My eyes flicked down to where his metal hand was fisted so hard in the arm of his chair that the seams were starting to rip.

Before I could blink it away, I felt one unruly tear slip down my cheek, though my own shame and embarrassment had taken a backseat once I’d recognized Bucky’s distress.

“I— Fuck,” he said. Faster than I could register, Bucky heaved himself forward, sinking down onto his knees on the floor in front of me, hands clutching at the couch cushions on either side of my thighs. Our eyes locked, and I lost myself in twin pools of grey-blue. His scent burned on my next inhale, sharp and distressed, the sour stench of guilt that lingered in the corners of his apartment.

“Why are you apologizing?” Bucky’s voice was a breathy, raspy growl. It sent a thrill up my spine, and for a moment, I didn’t register that he’d asked me a question. This close, I could feel the heat of his skin, see the stubble on his jaw, scent that delicious smell of him— like snowmelt, like the wind on your face, like a deep inhale at the summit of a mountain…

Bucky broke his gaze first, growling low and dark in his chest. “I should be the one apologizing. I should have already. But I—“ He cut himself off, lip curling in disgust as he leaned away from me. I felt a sharp, stabbing pain in my chest. Alpha doesn’t want you.

I inhaled hard, suppressing a sob, feeling more hot tears run down my cheeks.

I needed to leave. Now. I wasn’t in control of my emotions. This was embarrassing. “Clingy Omega sobs in disinterested Alpha’s apartment.” What would the pack think of me?

I moved to stand up again, but the low-grade growl in Bucky’s chest sharpened, and he lurched forward, crowding me back against the couch cushions.

Before I could even register the aggression in his action, or even think to be fearful of him, Bucky had already leaned back out of my space and silenced his growl.

“Fuck! Sorry— I’m. Sorry. Don’t leave yet. I won’t—“ He cut himself off again, shaking his head in frustration, before standing up to put more distance between us again, moving to lean on the back of the armchair across from me with his head in his hands. He took a deep, steadying breath before speaking again. “I should be the one apologizing. Because I… hurt you. I told you that you were safe. And you weren’t. Not from me.”

When he looked up to meet my gaze, his expression looked tortured, but his scent was worse— ashy and acidic, hatred and guilt. Guilt? Why was he…

I swiped hurriedly at the tears on my cheeks, feeling the lump in my throat clear as confusion and exasperation took over.

“What are you talking about? I’m perfectly fine,” I huffed. Well, as fine as one can be when they’re pining over an Alpha who can’t stand to be in the same room as them. Maybe he feels guilty about Hydra restraining me? That’s the only logical explanation I could think of.

“Tony got the cuffs off right when I got back here, it’s not like you could have removed them. They were Terrigen crystal.” I shook my head, and once again moved to stand and leave as the futility of this conversation dawned on me. “Whatever. I’ll just go.”

This time, I got in a few steps towards the door before that low growl started up again and he caught my wrist in his right hand.

I should have been terrified. I should have been running for my life. I should have frozen him into the floor. I was an unbonded Omega in a growling Alpha’s den, soaked in a combination of our distressed pheromones, held in his grasp and unable to leave.

But despite all the reasons I had to roll over and bare my throat in fearful submission, absolutely no part of me felt scared or unsafe.

Bucky’s hand on my wrist was gentle. Not holding me back, but pleading for me to stay. And the feel of his skin on mine made something hot, desperate and dark curl within me.

His voice was rough when he spoke again, my back still turned half away from him. “In that cell. I… forced myself on you. You trusted me enough to fall into a heat, and I took advantage. You shouldn’t be apologizing, because you should hate me.”

When I turned back around, the raw expression on his face made my stomach lurch. He looked… devastated. Ashamed. Vulnerable. Afraid.

Feeling hysterical, I couldn’t help a little nervous giggle from bubbling up in my throat.

All this time, this big, dumb, handsome, superhero Alpha had really thought he’d violated me in some way. Me. The Omega who had practically rubbed her entire body in his scent, who had stayed up for hours yearning for his Alpha purr, who’d had sex dreams about him dirty enough to make a pornstar shudder.

“Are you fucking with me?” I said.

Bucky frowned earnestly. “No… I—“

“So you’ve been leaving me secret gifts because you felt… guilty?” I said, knowing I was putting him on the spot. Something about being in his presence, in his den, was making me bold— finally giving in after a month of exasperation, of chest-aching pain.

Bucky’s eyes widened, and he had the sense to look a bit sheepish, dropping my wrist from where his hand still encircled it. “Uh. It wasn’t—I was just— I’ll stop if you—“ he said, stumbling over his words.

His nervousness, I noted absurdly, was charming.

That’s when I suddenly realized that here, surrounded by Bucky’s scent, close enough to touch, I felt lighter than I had in over a month. The dull ache in my chest had lifted, and in its place, all I felt was an incredible sense of rightness.

Comfort Alpha, my Omega murmured, crawling back up from the recesses of my brain where I’d shoved her away earlier.

And, well, I was tired of fighting her. Fuck it.

“Bucky,” I laughed, cutting off his sputtering. “You— You didn’t force anything on me. We were both out of our minds. Hell— I’m still out of my mind! I’ve been pining over you for a month. My fucking chest,” I said, reaching up to worry at my sternum where the pain had been centered.

“You— What?”

————

As soon as Y/N had settled into the couch, and Bucky’s inner Alpha had registered that she was within reach, soaked in his scent and looking gorgeous and vulnerable, he’d lost it a little.

First— confusingly— she had started apologizing. Then in just a few, rapidly devolving moments, he’d (1) made her scent spike with anger and sadness, (2) watched helplessly as tears clumped in her eyelashes and tracked down her smooth cheeks, and (3) acted like a territorial knotheadwhen she’d tried to leave— as if he hadn’t fucked things up enough.

And now she was… confessing her feelings for him?

That couldn’t be right.

“You— What?”

Bucky recognized that absolutely no part of this conversation had demonstrated his intelligence. He was actually starting to think maybe the serum had given him early onset dementia.

He took a step closer to her, knowing he was pushing it by crowding the Omega in his own territory, but too overwhelmed to care. “But… What about Steve?” he asked. Just being within feet of her, he could smell the newspaper ink scent of his best friend still lingering on her clothes.

Y/N quirked her head. “What about him?” She lifted her arm to take a sniff at her shoulder, seeming to scent what remained of him on her pullover.

Bucky bit hard on the inside of his cheek, fighting a scowl. He wasn’t that dumb. “You two are… you know,” he started, shrugging to hide the hurt. “Together.”

An amused smirk tugged at her lips. “What, did you think I was canoodling with Wanda and Sam as well? The whole pack? Because I smell like all of them, too.”

And, well, yes. This close, Bucky could pick up Wanda’s muted cinnamon smell, Sam’s citrus scent, and even a splash of rosewater from Nat.

Then, Bucky noticed that Y/N’s hand was still worrying at her sternum. In the very same spot where he’d practically rubbed holes in his own shirts over the past month. He matched the motion dazedly, reaching up to place his palm over his own chest. That same nagging thought that had dogged him for weeks in the Brooklyn apartment fought back to the forefront of his mind. Bond withdrawal.

“You feel it too?” he said, his words coming out softer than he’d intended, disbelief coloring his tone.

Bucky watched as her snarky expression melted away, eyes turning serious and contemplative. She took a step forward, now so close that they were breathing the same air, and nodded resolutely.“All day. Every day. Aching. And—” She paused, a fierce blush rising on her cheeks. “Your… purr. I feel like I nee—“

Before his higher functions could process the words coming from her lips, Bucky’s hindbrain took control of his body. He crowded Y/N back into the wall behind them, his arms on either side of her head as he leaned in to take a deep, desperate lungful right at the scent glands on her neck. She tipped her head back instantly, baring her throat to him and letting out a breathy moan that sent his head spinning, her sweet peppermint scent coursing through his veins like the best drug.

In the morning, maybe, he’d regret this.

But right here, right now? Omega really wants him. Fucking finally.

The sight of her bared throat made his Alpha wild with need— the same trusting submission he thought he had abused before, now presented to him without abandon. He replaced his nose on her neck with his lips and tongue, and her body arched against his, their hips lining up. She keened softly, and his cock thickened in his pants, forcing him to bite back a gratified growl as he ran his nose up and down the column of her throat. Her scent was changing, taking on an earthy, musky note, like fallen leaves and wet moss. Arousal. He felt his mouth water, and he could scent his own aroused pheromones filling the air, mixing with hers.

Was he dreaming? This couldn’t be real. He didn’t deserve this— her trust, her want, her body beneath him.

But Bucky’s inner Alpha was crowing. The feel of her against him, her scent lighting his body on fire from the inside out— it stirred up the deepest, darkest, most possessive Alpha instincts buried deep within. Not Steve’s. Mine. My Omega.

Y/N snaked a hand up his chest, pressing her cool palm to the side of his face and nudging his gaze up to meet hers. Her pupils were blown wide, plush lower lip pulled between her teeth— almost shy. The look shook Bucky out of his mindless Alpha stupor. He had to be sure. Because once he was…

He pulled back slightly so she could breathe. “Is this— Do you want this?” he asked, voice rough with need.

“Yes.”

———

The moment the word slipped from my lips, Bucky finally let go of the tight restraint holding himself back. I knew he was desperate before, when he had his nose buried in my neck. And I could smell the musky, warm flannel scent of his arousal in the air— feel the hard evidence of it against my hip.

But as soon as I’d finally, finally convinced this stupid, perfect, frustratingly dense Alpha that this was what I wanted— what I had wanted from the start— he let out a mind-numbing growl that made my knees go weak and shaky.

Though I was at first anticipating a rough and frenzied claiming— especially after a month of needless separation— I supposed that with Bucky’s extreme handle on his inner Alpha, it would be anything but. And I was right.

His lips were surprisingly gentle where they met mine, but insistent, commanding as he opened my mouth against his, stubble scraping at my cheek. I did my best to match his intensity, kissing back with everything I had, trying hard to communicate with more than words what he hadn’t let himself believe. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer to him, and before I could prepare myself, he scooped me up into his arms like I weighed nothing and headed towards the couch.

“No, bed,” I gasped, tearing my lips away from his for a moment. Bucky honest-to-god whined, changing course immediately to carry me further into his den, kicking his bedroom door closed behind him as we entered the space where his scent was thickest. In the low light, I could make out dark furniture and a large bed, which he settled me gently in the middle of, sheets and blankets a delicious, cedar-scented tangle around me. I could feel my heartbeat pick up, arousal thrumming through every nerve ending in my body, slick between my legs coming embarrassingly fast as my Omega prepared for the Alpha my body desperately craved.

He hesitated for a moment once I was settled, hovering his body above mine, and I could see the glint of his steely eyes tracing down my form. I knew I didn’t look the sexiest in my cozy clothes, and I squirmed uncomfortably underneath his scrutiny, letting out my own indignant whine.

He chuckled— a dark, Alpha sound, then sat back a bit on his haunches to free his hands so that he could trace them down the curve of my sides. He stopped at the hem of my pullover, eyes flicking to meet mine. I nodded, sitting up a bit to let him pull it over my head, taking my bra with it. Once it was off, he hurled it dramatically into the furthest corner of the room, taking the pack’s scent with it. I couldn’t help but laugh at his possessive posturing, before I caught the intense look on his face as his eyes roved over my bare chest and stomach, drinking me in like he was afraid to break the spell by touching.

Goosebumps pebbled the skin of my arms, though not from cold. I reached up to pull him down closer to me, and I could feel him trembling— still holding himself back.

“Bucky,” I pleaded, arching up my lower half to press my core against his leg. He remained still, flesh and metal hands holding my waist firmly in his grasp. “Alpha,” I tried.

That worked.

With a choked-out growl, Bucky surged up against me, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses from my mouth, down my neck, across my scent glands and to my chest, where he sucked and laved at my sensitive nipples.

“Fucking perfect, Omega,” he breathed, sounding pained. “Smell so good. Like you were made for me. Unbelievable.”

I whined in response, each inhale taking in more of his heady scent, making my head swim. He kissed a hot path from my chest down my belly, nosing at my hip and the waistband of my pants. “Didn’t think you wanted this, doll. Not with me,” he said, flesh hand gripping my side hard enough to bruise. My Omega thrilled at the idea of a mark left behind. Down, girl.

He hesitated at the drawstring of my joggers, his eyes flicking up to meet mine. “Can I make you feel good, Omega?” he panted, mouth slack and plush lips wet. I hitched in a breath at the sight of him, feeling punch-drunk and so overwhelmingly turned on I had to fight the urge to close my eyes. I nodded my consent, but reached out to tug at the shoulder of his shirt first, which he ripped over his head with one hand to reveal the sculpted, shadowy planes of chest. The hard lines of him looked like they were cut from steel. Jesus Christ.

“Please,” I pleaded again, canting up my hips, and he rumbled in response, dragging down my pants and underwear in one smooth glide down my legs. I tightened my thighs together reflexively— still wanting, but momentarily shy at being completely bare for him, and the the thought of the amount of slick he’d find between my legs.

“Perfect,” he practically purred, leaning in to kiss me softly, reassuringly, slotting his hips between my legs until I was spread wide beneath him. He kissed back down my body once my breathing slowed, his cold metal hand leaving goosebumps behind as it trailed down my side to behind my knee, where he lifted my leg to throw it over his shoulder. He paused at my navel, looking up at me one more time. “Okay, doll?”

I took in a shuddering breath, the need for him to touch me overpowering my nerves, before nodding. The corner of Bucky’s mouth turned up in a smirk, making my breath catch in my throat, before he dove between my legs with what could only be described as super soldier-like intensity. He sucked slowly, teasingly at the scent glands on my inner thighs before dragging his nose through my slick folds, lapping up my slick like a man starved. He found my bundle of nerves instantly, beginning a relentless tease with his tongue.

I’d never felt anything like it. A litany of uncontrollable whimpers and moans fell from my mouth as pleasure washed over me in waves.

“Taste so good, Omega,” he growled, throwing his metal arm across my hips to hold me down as I bucked up in need against his face. “Never tasted anything like you.”

My eyes rolled back in my head as I felt his flesh hand drag along the inside of my thigh before he pressed one thick finger slowly inside me. The sounds coming out of my mouth were sinful, and I pushed my face into the pillow beside my head to muffle them as I tightened around the digit.

“Alpha, please,” I begged, squirming as I teetered on the razor sharp edge of release. He carried on, increasing the intense assault with his tongue, before adding another finger next to his first, canting them both up towards my navel in a slow drag inside me. The fullness is what pushed me over the edge with a cry. He loosened his hold on my hips to let me ride it out against his mouth until I pulled away sharply with the sting of oversensitivity. He slipped his fingers from me drenched in slick, bringing heat to my cheeks, before licking his fingers clean with his gaze trained on mine.

“God,” I gasped out as my heart rate started to come down, feeling lightheaded and tingly all over from the best orgasm I’d ever had in my fucking life.

“Thanks, but you can call me Bucky.”

Did he— I barked out a disbelieving laugh at the absolute, shit-eating grin on his face— a carefree, pleased look I hadn’t seen before in the short time I’d known the Alpha.

He laughed with me, before moving back up the bed, pressing his burning hot chest to mine, and leaning in for a slow, lingering kiss. The waistband of his pants dug into my hip, along with the shockingly hard length of him.

“Oh, I didn’t—“ I broke away from his mouth, moving my fingers down to scrabble at the button of his pants, but he gently moved my hand away with one of his own.

“You don’t need to,” he said, his voice deep and rough— sounding just as fucked out as me, though I hadn’t even touched him.

I frowned. “But I want to. Do you not want me to—“

He cut me off with a kiss, before dropping his forehead to my chest. I could feel his breath fanning out across my skin, my nipples peaking in interest even though I felt thoroughly sated already.

“Jesus, doll. Of course I do.” He lifted his head up, meeting my gaze, and I could see his jaw clenching as he fought for the right words. When I’d first met him I’d chalked up his taciturn mannerism as a side effect of the rut, but now, I realized it was just another endearing facet of his personality. He liked to make every word he spoke count. Makes sense when you spent seventy years in a muzzle.

“I don’t want you to feel… pressured,” he finished.

This again? I leaned down, pulling a blanket up and over my frame to cover my naked lower half, and Bucky moved off me slightly.We probably should have talked more before Bucky decided to take me to the astral plane— but I certainly wasn’t complaining about the way things had progressed, and by the scent of proud Alpha that still lingered in the air, he hadn’t minded either.

“Bucky, I don’t blame you for anything that happened in that cell. Not even a little bit,” I began. He sighed, breaking eye contact to look down at his flesh hand, which he’d fanned out across my belly. I wasn’t a petite woman, but underneath his massive hand, I felt… small and safe in the best way. A way that made my Omega sing with pleasure at having found a match that could both provide and protect in the ways I needed him to. “It didn't even occur to me that I should blame you. If anything, I was grateful. You protected me and comforted me in a way that very few Alphas would have been able to while in rut.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, but his scent hadn’t sunk back into the sour distress of our earlier confrontation, so I knew he had heard me. He shifted to lie down on his back, lifting his flesh arm over my head to scoop me against his chest. I snuggled up to meet him, curling up against his side with my head pillowed on his massive bicep.

It felt… right— like two puzzle pieces finally joining— and I was suddenly reminded of the ache, or rather, the lack of it.

“You asked me earlier if I felt it too,” I whispered, the moment quiet and sacred in the muted light of Bucky’s den. I lifted my eyes to look at him to find he was already gazing down at me. “I know this is crazy for me to say, but this just feels so—“

“Right,” he said, finishing my sentence for me. “It feels right. And my chest doesn’t hurt anymore, now that you’re here.”

“It’s gone for me too. Bucky— god— I thought I was going crazy. I thought you hated me. I thought I was going to have to leave the pack,” I whined, feeling the low-level anxiety of the past few weeks rush back in one big wave. Bucky must have scented the intensity of my distress, because he shushed me softly, running a soothing hand up and down my back, before nudging my head onto his chest and starting up that painfully familiar rumble that I’d yearned for for weeks. His purr.

I instantly melted against him, feeling anxiety make way for comfort and bliss as every muscle in my body let go of the tension it was holding. I let out an involuntary moan of relief as I drowned in his purr and the cedar scent that surrounded me like a cocoon.

“’S fucking good,” I slurred, and I could feel Bucky’s laugh cut through the vibrations.

Reluctantly, I pulled my head away from his chest so that I could meet his eyes again. He was still staring, like I was a puzzle he couldn’t decipher. I shivered.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said. I immediately opened my mouth to protest, but he stopped me. “No, listen. I should have apologized to you as soon as we got back. But I was afraid.” He said it resolutely, unfalteringly. An Alpha admitting their fear was rare. But Bucky wasn’t a typical Alpha. “I was afraid of what I was feeling— of what you might be feeling. And when I saw you with Steve, I just thought—“ he paused, closing his eyes. “I thought I could move on. That you had made the right choice.”

Though my heart hurt to think of the turmoil that Bucky had put himself through over the past month, I had to smirk. Bucky might be different in other ways, but his jealousy over my imagined relationship with Steve was stereotypical Alpha.

“Is that why you started leaving me secret gifts?” I asked teasingly, feeling a smile curling across my lips. “Saw another Alpha swoop in and had to prove you could provide?”

Bucky flopped his head back against the pillow with a groan, scrunching up his eyes in embarrassment, and I laughed at his chagrin.

“I knew it was weird,” he said. “But it made it hurt less. To know I could… provide for you in some way. Sorry. I know I sound like a knothead.”

“Don’t apologize. That blanket will be perfect for our nest,” I said innocently, fluttering my eyelashes. Bucky stiffened under me immediately at the thought. I giggled, and the Alpha rolled back on top of me in a flash, letting out a teasing growl as his arms caged me in.

I squirmed underneath him as he pressed gentle kisses down my neck, tongue laving across my scent glands, sending a jolt of arousal through my thoroughly relaxed body.

“How do you smell so incredible?” he grumbled against my skin, inhaling deeply. I took the opportunity to move my hand down across his bare chest again, sneaking towards his waistband, but Bucky caught my hand again gently, lacing our fingers together. He stopped his ministrations against my glands, and lifted his face up to meet mine again.

“Not tonight,” he murmured. “But will you stay?”

I nodded then, feeling suddenly shy and exposed underneath him. I wiggled down off the bed to pull on my soft pants and pullover, leaving my bra and slick-soaked underwear on the floor, while Bucky tugged off his pants, leaving him in black boxer briefs that showed off the rippling muscles of his thighs. God. Damn.

As I curled up again next to him, pulling the blankets up and over the tangle of our legs, a bone-deep tiredness settled over me, my body finally feeling relaxed and safe enough to slip into sleep after weeks of insomnia. He pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead, before looping his arms around me firmly and starting up his Alpha purr once again.

Tomorrow, we’d finish talking. Tomorrow, we’d figure out what was up with our strange connection. And tomorrow, it was my turn to make Bucky feel just as good as I had.

But right now? I nuzzled my face into his chest, savoring the cent of cedar and bonfire, and knew—irrevocably— that I was finally home.

#my fic #like an animal #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky reader #bucky barnes reader #bucky reader insert #bucky smut #marvel fic #marvel smut

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notenoughscotty · 5 years ago

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But She Has A Baby I.F

Requested: yes by @galxydefender

Summary: Ilya has a crush on David’s assistant who has a baby

Birds chirping and a baby’s cry is what filled the air the moment I became conscious. I pried my eyes open, my body was clearly not ready to be awake. I quickly shook the lethargy and checked the time, 5:45 am. As soon as I began to open the door to her room, she no longer cried, I found her standing in her crib, blanky in hand, thumb in mouth.

“Hi, sweetie, you ready for breakfast?” The baby voice not coming across so well with having just woken up less than five minutes ago. She didn’t respond, but I knew she was. I lifted her from the crib, and changed her diaper before bringing her to the kitchen for some food, I got her in her high chair and got her a banana sliced up as well as some dry cheerios. Once she was finished and I changed her for the day, I put her on my bed to watch some cartoons while I got ready, I relished in the feeling of the cold water on my face as I washed it. I did minimal makeup, just enough to create the illusion of a well rested person. I checked my phone again, 8 am and a text message no single mother likes to see, my babysitter had cancelled. It wasn’t the worst thing for me, seeing as I was the assistant to a YouTuber, one that loved my daughter and didn’t mind having her around at that. Although for my sake it was difficult to get anything done with a one and a half year old but at least there were other people there to distract her for a while so I can get some work done. I knew David wouldn’t be awake but I texted him so that he could answer when he did wake up, oh what I would do to still be sleeping right now. I had packed everything that we would need for the day by 9:30 am and, I didn’t have to be at David’s until noon so I had time to play with my baby before we had to head into the chaos that is David Dobrik’s house. David answered my text message excited to my daughter. It was 11 am when I left my house to get to David’s, traffic was bad this time of day and loading a toddler into the car was a job on it’s own.

My daughter had fallen asleep on the drive, which I hoped would last but as soon as unbuckled her, her eyes opened and I could already tell she was grumpy from being woken, I pulled her from the seat and she laid her head against my shoulder, she was all moody until she saw Ilya, she loved him to pieces, she wiggled from my grip to go see him, I released her and she was so excited she fell while running to him, he swiftly picked her up and I couldn’t help but stare and smile, it was a sweet sight. The way she giggled and smiled and him bouncing her and tickling her was too cute to look away. Once we were settled, I got to work and Ilya volunteered to watch [y/d/n]. My next task was to organize David’s closet, before leaving the room I gave a kiss to [y/d/n] who was sitting on Ilya’s lap, I pulled away to see Ilya sitting with puckered lips as if to ask for one as well, I knew he was joking.

“Aw, you want a kiss too?” I smiled at him, he laughed and nodded, I grabbed his face and gave him a kiss on the forehead, just as I had to my daughter. “Happy?” I asked, he nodded once again and I rolled my eyes and turned to start on the closet. I opened the doors and took a look. It was mainly just going to be hanging clothes up, so I started by mentally planning how it should be organized. Once I had decided I began hanging everything up or folding it and putting it somewhere that made sense. Once I was half way done, it had been a half an hour. I figured I should check on my baby and make sure everything was going alright. I didn’t make it far out of David’s room before I could hear them talking, and I could hear them talking about me. I stood still, trying to listen closely.

“-Dude she has a baby, you think you could handle that?” I knew David’s voice and that was David, no doubt, but what was he talking about?

“I obviously know that, I really like [y/n], and to me it doesn’t matter, I love her baby too...” that was Ilya’s voice, was he really saying what I thought he was? I never knew that he felt that way, and I had been so preoccupied with everything else in my life to even think about dating, but hearing him say that, I knew I liked him as well. Not to mention how well he does with my daughter, although it is scary to bring someone into my life romantically now that I have a child, if she becomes attached to him and it doesn’t work, it would be devastating. I listened for a bit longer before deciding to make my presence known, as I walked the rest of the hallway I made sure to make my footsteps heavy, so they would know I was coming, they stopped talking abruptly upon my arrival.

“I just wanted to check in, make sure [y/d/n] is okay” I spoke softly

“She’s doing great, we were just playing a riveting game of peek-a-boo” Ilya responded, I laughed and nodded, before going back I made sure to let him know where her snacks were in case she needed them. I then went back to the closet to finish the job. It took maybe another half an hour to finish. I had finished just in time for [y/d/n]’s nap time, I came back out into the living room, David was editing and Ilya was watching something with my daughter, she was laying on top of him, with a blanket over both of them, I almost didn’t want to interrupt but if I didn’t we would have a very cranky toddler on our hands in approximately one hour.

“I hate to steal her from you but, it’s nap time” I said pouting, he pouted back but handed her over, and I brought her to David’s room, where he agreed, she could sleep. I had dimmed the lights, turned on her white noise maker, given her a bottle, and laid with her and read a story to her. By the time I closed the book she was out, I carefully removed myself so I wouldn’t disturb her, leaving the door ever so slightly cracked as I made my escape. Once out I sighed, and returned to the living room, and the people in the room had multiplied, before, it was just David and Ilya, now, Jeff, Jason, Natalie, Todd, Corinna, and Josh were here. I waved to everyone, as soon as they saw me, they began greeting me loudly, I cringed, placing my finger over my lips to signal to be quiet, explaining that my daughter had just fallen asleep, they all nodded and apologized quietly. I sat down in the only spot on the couch not taken, which was next to Ilya, he put his arm around the back of the couch behind me, and turned to face me. He looked as though he was about to say something but instead he just smiled, I smiled back.

9 pm came quickly and it was time to get my daughter and myself into bed, I picked up [y/d/n] from Jason who had been holding her and said my goodbyes, Ilya offered to help carry the bags to my car, after watching me struggle, I accepted graciously. Once she was buckled and the bags were in the backseat, I turned to Ilya and thanked him, he of course said it was no problem. There was this tension in the air, but he wasn’t saying anything so I smiled and went to open the driver door.

“Wait, uh, [y/n] would you maybe want to go on a date with me? Saturday?” He spoke up, trying to sound confident, but losing it every few words.

“I would love to, if I can get a babysitter, then definitely” I smiled back

“She can come too”

#ilya fedorovich #david dobrik #david #davids vlogs #david dobrik fluff #ilya fedorovich imagine #vlog squad #vlog squad imagines #vlog squad x reader #vlog squad fluff #scotty sire #zane hijazi #heath hussar #Matt King

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percywinchester27 · 4 years ago

Text

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-4)

Word count: 4.6K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: None

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23 I love you, Athina <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

Sam’s POV

The ringing got to the point where Sam reached out and almost flung the phone across the room. It was the first time in over a week that he’d actually managed to fall asleep, that too in the early hours of the morning. Who was even calling this early?

He opened one eye to read the name on the screen and promptly sat up in his bed.

“Dean?” He answered. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh yeah!” Dean’s voice sounded absolutely normal on the other side, goofy even. “I just woke up super early to go for a walk. For the first time. I thought you’d be proud. It was your idea after all.”

“Dean,” Sam groaned. “It’s five in the morning.”

“Aren’t you always up at five anyway?”

He had a point, but today was not the day.

“If it’s nothing important, I’m going back to bed,” Sam declared. “I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in a while.”

“Aren’t you by yourself for like two more weeks? What’s keeping you up now?”

Nightmares, horrors and well, the woman I had loved with all my heart who abandoned me seven years ago?

Sam almost said it. Almost. The words died on his lips, though.

“It’s nothing. I’m just really tired,” he said finally.

“Those guys at work still giving you a hard time?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Nobody is giving me a hard time! It was one case and over a year ago. I’m not five. You can’t kick people’s asses for me anymore.”

“Just give me the names.”

Sam laughed. For the first time in a week, the knot in his chest loosening. Maybe that’s what he needed. He should have called his brother sooner.

Dean deserved to know about Y/N. Hell, Sam should have called him the moment he walked out of that classroom. He would have, too, had it not taken him a whole day to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t dreaming to begin with.

That’s where he saw her afterall… She was the part of his worst nightmare. He would be damned though, if she wasn't also the loveliest dream he’d ever dreamt, ever felt.

“Sam?” Dean asked. “Did you fall asleep on me?”

“No.”

“Okay, I lied,” Dean admitted. “I’m not exercising or anything. I just couldn’t fall asleep. I don’t know, man. I had this weird feeling in my gut that something wasn’t right with you.”

Sam held his breath, feeling a strange ache within him. Dean always knew.

“Everything’s alright, Dean.” I am just slowly going insane here.

There was a heavy pause and Sam was almost convinced that Dean could see through his bullshit. When Dean spoke, his voice held a gravity. “If there’s anything, and I mean anything at all, you’ll call me, right?”

“Who else do I even have?” Sam said in a low defeated voice. “Of course I’ll call you.”

“Now you get back in that bed, and sleep your ass off!”

Amazing how his brother could be so insightful one minute and order him around like he was a three year old the next.

“Bye, Dean.”

“Bye, Sammy.”

*click*

Sam fell back into his bed, staring at the perfect beige ceiling. It hadn’t been more than two years since he’d moved in the faculty accoms and what with all that had happened since, he’d never had the time to move out, or even properly look for a better place.

He closed his eyes, knowing perfectly well how pointless it was. Sleep wasn’t going to come… what came instead was the image of her, looking at him with absolute horror from the top row of the lecture hall. And despite everything that had happened, Sam had wanted nothing more than to run across the steps and hold her in his arms. Hold her so tight and never let go.

However, before he could move, she had fled the room, like mirage. Leaving him to question if it had been real at all. Maybe the years had got to him and he was hallucinating. It was the first time in his career that he’d frozen on the dais. And only when someone called his name, had he come back to the now.

In fact, he’d been so sure that it had just been a play of his mind, that he’d left the class promptly and actually verified the student admission list from the administration office.

“Y/N Y/L/N”

After that all he could do was walk back to his house aimlessly.

This couldn’t be happening. What was he going to do? Run back to her? Find her and then what?

Things weren’t the same now. He didn’t know anything about her life anymore.

Then the anger came.

How dare she? How could she have absolutely destroyed him like that and then come waltzing back into his life just when he had managed to put it back together, painfully and piece by piece.

He could go back and take a look at her entire application; know what she had been up to. But would that even matter?

Sam had spent the whole day just sitting by himself in the dark, and even the next. Calls from work, and college be damned. He couldn’t go in there and pretend like he didn’t care, that he didn’t want to rage and riot and ask her why she had left him like that!

But he was more than just a heartbroken man. And he wasn’t twenty five anymore. He had responsibilities now, people who looked up to him. So locking himself up wasn’t an option. He had to face the world, even when he didn’t want to. Especially then.

When he stepped into the room on Friday, he’d made up his mind to not look for her. The eye contact might not mean anything to her, but it just might be his undoing. And after all he had been through, he couldn’t fall apart now. These were his students and they didn’t need to see that.

As it turned out, he needn’t have worried at all. Y/N wasn’t there. Had she run off again? Was it really such a bad thing for her to be in the same room as him?

It took him a while to get on track. Knowing that she wasn’t there, did help, made it easier to concentrate, easier to set out the syllabus.

Over the weekend, Sam made a game plan- pretend that she didn’t exist, whether or not she attended classes. If he convinced himself that she was still gone, he could go on with the lecture. After all, he could do it for two hours a day. It shouldn’t have to be that hard.

It was very hard.

She wore purple on Monday, and he’d be damned if he didn’t admit that his heart sped up when he saw her. That one glance was all Sam allowed himself. It took every ounce of his will power to concentrate on what he was speaking.

It did not get any easier as the week passed. Sam did get better at controlling his face, if not his emotions and by Thursday, even managed a few jokes that hit the mark. All the while, he didn’t dare look at her, still not confident that he could handle it. It helped that he was busy with a twisted property matter at work that required multiple trips to the court. It kept him engaged and his mind occupied.

Sam was so ready for the weekend by the time Friday rolled in. One more class and he’d be free of the agony for two more days.

He did not look at her still. He came very close once, when the girl right ahead of her answered a question, but his gaze only lasted long enough to make out that she was wearing beige today.

In the minutes after the class ended, a small group of students gathered around him asking doubts about the topic. It was a somewhat hard concept to understand, and it provided him with further distraction.

Next to them, a commotion caught his eye, A boy was standing on the side of the dias. Right next to him stood Y/N.

“Thank you, but I already have plans for the weekend,” she said, her voice polite.

Sam clenched his fists. The sound of her voice was enough to repeal each and every effort he’d put into remaining fortified through the week.

Her voice was just as soft and kind. Without consciously deciding to, he abandoned the conversation he was having completely to listen to her, yearning more for the sound of her voice like his life depended on it. Another girl had joined Y/N and the boy. Then, Y/N left, without saying anything.

“Mr. Winchester?”

Sam wrenched himself back into the conversation. It was the girl who had answered his question.

“Mr. Winchester, my name’s Rebecca Staten,” she said, leaning close. “What about the internship applications? At Acton Griswold.”

Sam wanted to roll his eyes. “I’m afraid I can’t help you with that. The hiring is all HR, and I have little to no say in it.”

“Oh, but it would be wonderful getting to work with you.”

Sam backed away quickly, grabbing his case and laptop. “I assure you working with me is highly overrated. See you next week!” He concluded and left the class in a hurry.

The moment he was out, the anger returned, at her and himself. She didn’t care about what happened to him, and yet here he was pining after her like a lovestruck teenager. She already had plans, while he spent his evenings in darkness trying to get her out of his head.

Now, Sam lay in his bed, still clutching to his phone even after Dean had long hung up.

It was 5:30 and for once he didn’t feel like stepping out of his bed. Who knew? Maybe the world had some more crap to fling in his face.

Sam closed his eyes remembering the day when he’d first realised what she meant to him.

*******************************

21st July 2006

“If you stayed quiet any longer, I’d have to start worrying,” Dean said, glancing at his brother from the driver’s seat.

“What?” Sam shrugged.

“You know what I’m talking about!”

“You don’t know shit!”

Dean shushed, glancing at a sleeping Jo in the backseat of their car. “She had a rough night,” Dean whispered. “Stop shouting. You’ll wake her up.”

So much concern. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Oh, you’re the one to act pricey,” Dean hissed. “Don’t think I don’t know what’s up with you.”

“What’s up with me?”

“It’s that girl, Y/N. Isn’t it?” Dean asked. “You’re worried about her.”

Sam said nothing. What was he going to tell Dean when he himself didn’t know why he was so worried for her.

She had gone mute with shock at first when Jo broke the news to her. Slowly as her face started to crumple, she looked at him once and excused herself to go upstairs. Jo had given him one sympathetic look as he stood there in the middle of their living room, then followed her cousin to the room. He had seen himself out after the maddening urge to run after Y/N, hold her and comfort her had been squished. Afterall, he barely knew her… it wasn’t his place to comfort her in any way… and yet, it had simply felt wrong to walk out of that house knowing she was distraught.

He had been restless since, unable to concentrate on preparation for his interview. Her sweet smile and then the shocked look on her face kept coming back to him, to the point where he regretted not following her to her room. Maybe, just maybe she would have let him help.

Ellen had driven Y/N to her hometown that evening, while Jo had stayed back to look after the diner. Dean, who Sam suspected was more than just sweet on her had been making home calls for leaking sinks and what not.

Now it was his turn to drive her to the funeral. Sam had ridden along without really explaining to either of them… why? He needed to figure that one out for himself first.

“I just- I don’t even know why I’m going there,” Sam said, finally. “I mean, you’re driving your girlfriend. What am I doing?”

Surprisingly, Dean didn’t contest the girlfriend part, neither did he make a sarcastic retort.

“You have plenty of time to find out,” Dean said, without taking his eyes off the road.

“She’s just so different,” Sam thought out loud.

“You’re not wrong about that,” Jo said from the back seat. She was up and looked absolutely exhausted. “It’s so hard to get through to her.”

“What do you mean?”

Jo stretched her arms and ran her hands down her dress, trying to smoothen it. “I have never been close to her,” she said. “After my aunt and her husband died in the crash, Y/N went to stay with her grandmother. She visited us once in three years or so but never stayed for more than a week. She has always been quiet. Even as a kid she was polite and soft spoken. Don’t get me wrong, I liked her well enough, but I kinda dreaded her visits cause each time she came, mom would have a mini complex over how well-behaved she was and I was a mess.”

Dean chuckled, finding that funny for some reason.

“I love having her over now, though. And I get why she’s been so grown up. Her gran was pretty awesome. She took care of Y/N sure, but Y/N had to take care of her, too. Had to be sincere and not trouble the old lady. Her gran called her ‘the little ray of sunshine.’

Seemed apt enough to Sam. He’d rather die than admit to his brother and Jo, but there was this light that Y/N seemed so full of, that he couldn’t get enough of.

Sam shook his head, dispelling the insane thought, embarrassed.

“This, Y/N,” Dean asked, “She has anyone else?”

In the rear-view mirror, Sam saw Jo shaking her head sadly.

“It’s just us now. I bet mom’s tried to get her to move in with us… but Y/N doesn’t budge. We’ve tried to get her to move here plenty of times.”

“But that meant she’d have had to leave her grandmother,” Sam said. “She wouldn’t have then. What’s stopping her now?”

“Self-respect,” Jo said the word like it was dubious.

Sam understood this better than Jo. The feeling that you were causing discomfort to others, that you were a burden… your existence, an obligation.

Bobby had loved him and Dean like his own kids and Karen had been so sweet, but deep down he and his brother always knew the sacrifices they’d had to make to raise two boys. Cutting the edges to make the ends meet. It had been the reason that the moment Dean was old enough, he’d moved out, pulling Sam with him. And Sam couldn’t have been prouder of his brother. They both missed Bobby and Karen, and the love and warmth, but, at least Bobby didn’t have to break his back overworking now. He could kickback a little and enjoy some privacy with his wife.

Dean was staring straight ahead. From the set of his mouth and the intensity of his eyes, Sam could make out the shift in his brother. A newfound respect for Y/N because of the luxury she had given up for the sake of her grandmother.

When Dean spoke, he confirmed it for Sam. “So, Y/N is by herself now?”

Y/N… and not ‘that girl.’

“It’s just awful,” Jo said angrily. “Y/N loved her gran more than anyone in the world. I don’t know how she’s going to get over this.” Then her voice steeled. “We’re not going to listen to her this time. She can’t live in that crap town by herself. She’ll have to move in with us now.”

“Won’t be that hard to convince her,” Sam added, “She’ll get her acceptances in a month or so and by fall she’ll be off to wherever anyway. It’ll be a matter of a few months. You can press that.”

“Yeah,” Jo said slowly, giving Sam a scrutinising look, like it was slowly dawning to her just how much he knew.

Sam cleared his throat and looked out of the window.

Jo pointed the directions to the church when they reached the town and Dean found the perfect parking spot. Sam adjusted his coat as he stepped inside the Church. The funeral was being held in the side room, and almost everyone from the small-ish town seemed to be there. Jo disappeared into the crowd immediately trying to find Ellen, and after a look to make sure that Sam was alright, Dean followed her.

This left Sam all by himself in a funeral full of strangers.

A few elderly women gave him a once over, trying to place him, and Sam moved away quickly, guessing that the family would be up ahead.

“... poor girl… I don’t know what else he has to live for now…”

Sam halted at the words.

Two middle aged women were talking to each other. The second one scoffed lightly. “Literally. Old Gertrude didn’t really own a fortune to leave behind. Just the old house and a now useless bakery. That girl can’t bake to save her life, I’ve heard.”

“Oh, don’t talk like that!” The first woman said, “That child’s distraught!”

“She’s no child,” said the other woman, whom Sam was beginning to hate, “She’s eighteen. At her age I was married to my Robert and little Jonathan was already on his way. Besides, she’s a jinx, don’t you think? Got her parents killed when he was a child and now…”

Sam walked away as fast as he could before he said something in anger that he would regret later.

At the very front, on the podium was a close casket. People moved slowly making hushed conversations around it. At the foot of the casket, next to the rows of chairs stood Ellen, in a sharp, black skirt and jacket, talking to a man in low voice. On the first two chairs sat Jo, Dean beside her. She seemed to be wiping her tears while Dean held her hand.

Sam’s eyes scanned the milling crowd. Y/N was nowhere to be seen amongst them. He looked at the aisle and then at the chairs, finally spotting her on the last chair of the second row, sitting by herself, staring blankly ahead. Then, he noticed the little things… how people were looking at her and then averting their gaze. The expression on her face wasn’t exactly sorrow… it was the look a person’s face might hold after they had lost everything they had. Everything. Just looking at her filled Sam’s heart with dread. Those who wanted to meet her were unable to because Ellen strategically blocked the path to get to her. She’d engage them in a small talk and then they’d go away.

Sam cut across the line of chairs in the 5th row and reached the edge of the hall. The chairs had been arranged in a way that there was little no space left to walk, but Sam managed, flattening himself against the wall and inching towards where Y/N was sitting. He walked right past her to the seat beside her, but she didn’t notice, she didn’t even blink, just stared fixedly at the mural of wreathed flowers over the casket.

“Y/N?” he said quietly, and she startled out of it, unseeing at first, then realising that he was there.

“Sam.”

Her voice was thick and so unsteady that it broke Sam’s heart.

All he wanted to do was reach out and hug her, comfort her in anyway that he could. For now, he placed his hand over hers, something he had done before, so it wouldn’t make her uncomfortable.

“Sam,” she whispered again, gripping his hand tightly with her other. Tight enough to hurt.

“I’m so sorry,” he said fervently, feeling helpless at her pain. “Tell me. Is there anything I can do?”

She looked lost, her Y/E/C eyes flitting from his face to the side and back again. She was about to say something, but at the very moment the pastor called for attention. They were moving the casket. The pastor gestured to everyone to begin moving towards the cemetery. Over his shoulder, Sam could see Ellen giving him a curious look and she wasn’t the only one. There were so many pairs of prying and questioning eyes. To the point where Sam began to doubt whether Y/N would want to be seen with him. However, she held on to his hand steadily as she rose. He stood up with her.

Y/N did not let go of his hand even as they walked to the churchyard, and Sam stopped giving a single care about what anyone was thinking. Her hold on him was steady, but her fingers still shook and her other hand was clutching the fabric of her plain grey dress tightly.

The pastor asked her if she had any last words to say for her grandmother. Y/N resolutely shook her head and they lowered the casket into the earth. People walked up to her to offer condolences, hugs and words of kindness, and she nodded in acknowledgement, eyes cast downwards.

Sam wondered how it looked to others. Did she appear to be a graceful image of grief? Elegant in her sorrow? Or whatever crap the crazy writers were writing these days. To him the shiver of her lips, the rapid rise and fall of her chest was very clear... very there! She wasn’t some beautiful, solitary figure of sadness, she was a person, breathing and living, who was barely keeping it together.

Ellen was the last to hug her, tightly. Sam had to let go for her hand.

“It’ll be alright, Darling,” Ellen said, stroking her Y/H/C hair. “It might not feel like it now, but things will be fine.”

No they wouldn’t. Things would never be fine, Sam knew. Not the fine that Y/N was used to… She’d just learn to live around the hollow of her missing Gran. One day at a time she’d get used to living like this… and that would become her new fine.

Jo hugged the two of them behind and Y/N closed her eyes, damp now, returning the hug tightly.

Almost everyone but Sam, Dean, Jo, Ellen and Y/N had gone back to the church for the dinner.

“Do you want to go inside?” Ellen asked, when she finally disentangled herself.

Y/N shook her head. “I’d like to stay here for a while.”

Ellen looked unsure but she nodded. “I’ll be inside. You’ll come find me?”

Y/N nodded gratefully.

“Okay then.”

Jo kissed her cousin on the cheek and left with her mother.

Dean walked over to Y/N, his step somewhat hesitant. “I know what it’s like to lose your parents as a child,” he said quietly. So quietly that Sam could barely hear it. “And I know what it’s like to live your life for just that one person who is left behind with you-” he gaze flickered towards Sam- “I can’t imagine what it’s like for you. God knows I’d not want to live for a minute if something happened to- happened to Sammy.”

She looked up, a spark of fear in her eyes. Her whole frame jerked. Dean was taken aback just for a split second before an understanding look dawned on his face. Sam didn’t recognise even a bit of what had just passed between them.

He was even more surprised when all of a sudden Dean opened his arm and Y/N let him hug her briefly.

He might have whispered something, or it might have been nothing at all, but when he let go, she held on to his sleeve.

“Thank you,” Y/N whispered, her eyes brimming now, tears starting to flow earnestly for the first time.

“You look after yourself now,” Dean said gently. “I’ll see you inside.”

He clapped Sam on the shoulder and after casting one long look at her, Sam turned to leave with his brother.

“Sam!”

Her voice was stronger now, and no sooner had she uttered the words, he was moving to be next to her.

“Will you… will you stay with me?” She asked, eyes expectant, and beyond anguished.

“Of course,” he said breathlessly.

He looked back to ask his brother to leave, but Dean was already at the gate of the churchyard, walking further away.

The sun was setting against the horizon in front of them, and the chill in the air was beginning to settle. Y/N rapped her arms around herself. Sam remembered the first time he had seen her do that, outside the bar. He would have shrugged out of his coat had Y/N not unfolded her wrap and thrown it over her shoulders. She leaned towards him, and as if it was the most natural thing to do, Sam wrapped one arm around her shoulder, drawing her close against his side. He let her borrow whatever warmth she needed on this cold, cruel evening.

“Sam,” Y/N said after a while. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

He didn’t reply, simply ran his hand over the side of her arm, as they stood silently in front of the freshly covered grave.

*******************************

Sam opened his eyes, almost smelling the air from that evening, almost feeling the heat of her body. Then sighed.

He needed to stop doing this to himself. Some might say it would have been easier to forget it all. Sam didn’t believe in that. He’d revisited the memories that meant so much to him over and over, till he remembered the last detail, till he could go relive them at his beck and call.

Of course they brought a boat load of pain, even the good memories, but Sam considered it a good bargain, all things considered. He hadn’t wanted to live a day where he couldn’t remember the precise colour of her eyes, or the sweet shyness of her smile.

And now precisely this habit of his was screwing him over when the real Y/N was right in front of him, and he couldn’t reach out to touch her like he could in the memories.

Then again, the real Y/N didn’t care for him one way or another.

Sleep wasn’t going to come purely because it was a Saturday. Lying around in bed was pointless. He rolled over in the bed and his eyes fell on the photo on his night stand.

Looking at the picture, the loneliness hit afresh. The person in the photo had become his sole reason to live as a functional human for the past two years. Sam missed those arms around his neck more than he could put into words. The missing was so bad, that it almost twisted his guts.

“Two more weeks,” he reminded himself. Two more weeks and he could see that face, that dimpled smile again. It was his reason to smile.

He placed a kiss on the frame and got out of the bed. Better to be productive than mope around all day. And who knew, if he managed to get busy, maybe, just maybe he wouldn’t think about Y/N.

*******************************

A/N 2: So now that we something about Sam. What are y’all thinking? ;)

PLEASE let me know what you think of this story?

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#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester reader insert #sam x reader fluff #lawyer!Sam #professor!Sam #sam winchester au #spn fanfiction #allu #anawrites #Ana writes ALLU #allu4 #anawritesspn #q

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nevernotwriting · 4 years ago

Text

You, Me, and Yancy | Chapter 8: Rooftop Relations

Read me on AO3!

Previous chapter

Several weeks earlier…

“All right, here we are.”

Mark stopped the car and the two of you got out, grabbing your duffel bags from the backseat. The slam of the car doors echoed in the empty parking garage as the two of you made your way to a door reading “EMPLOYEES ONLY”.

This was your third rooftop night shift, but your stomach was filled with more butterflies than ever before, because this was your first one with Mark. You’d been eager to spend more time with him after how warmly he welcomed you to the group, and now your wish had finally come true.

“After you,” Mark said, opening the door for you. He tipped his beanie towards you as if it were a fedora.

“Cheesy,” you snorted, walking through the door. Mark followed you.

“Cheesy is my middle name!”

You ascended an endless staircase, eventually reaching one final door. Opening it, you stepped out onto the rooftop of the Glendale Galleria.

The glass sections of the roof revealed that the inside was lit up in a brilliant white. This was your first indicator that this place definitely had a night shift. You sighed internally, your last flicker of hope for an early night dying.

Mark finally appeared in the doorway, laying down his bag and walking to the edge of the rooftop. You joined his side as he stared out at the grid of lights that stretched in every direction as far as you could see.

“Nice view,” he commented.

“I prefer the one back home.”

“Oh yeah?” Mark turned to you with a curious expression.

“Yeah. You can actually see the stars at my parents’ house. And the Milky Way, if you turn the porch lights off.”

“That’s pretty awesome,�� Mark smiled. “But who needs the Milky Way when you’ve got LA’s light pollution, right?”

You rolled your eyes with a loving smile. “Funny.”

“Funny is my middle name.”

“I thought cheesy was your middle name.”

“I have two.”

The two of you descended into laughter before picking up your bags once more and surveying your surroundings.

“All right, so what’s the plan here?”

Mark produced a rolled-up piece of paper from his bag; it was the map that Shrike and Gareth had compiled between them a few days prior. Mark scanned it and flitted his eyes up to the roof every few seconds. “Shark wants us to keep an eye on the guard rotation around the Swarovski store, which, according to this map, should be right… there.” He pointed to the largest glass dome in the middle of the roof.

“How about we get a quick scope of the whole place first, then settle in on the Swarovski store?” You suggested. “Might come in handy to know how many guards there’re gonna be overall.”

Mark nodded. “Good call.”

The two of you began to walk together from one edge of the roof to the next, sharing the map and marking out each guard you saw in light pencil. You caught Mark watching you out of the corner of your eye and you glanced at him, surprised to see an impressed smile on his face.

“You’re really good at this. And this is only, what, your third night shift?” His eyebrows raised along with his question.

You smiled, looking back down at the map. “Not like it’s hard.”

“Awh come on Zero, just take the compliment.”

“And if I don’t?” You teased.

“Well then this is gonna be a long night.”

You snorted, throwing your head back in laughter and continuing to walk. “That’s what I said to myself five minutes into what was possibly the worst date I’ve ever been on.”

Mark laughed, following you. “Oh no. What happened?”

You groaned. “I had to do like, ninety-nine percent of the talking. No joke. Me. Doing all the talking. You’ve seen how quiet I can be at work. God it was a nightmare, like why would you agree to a date with me if you don’t even really wanna be there?”

Mark shot you a sympathetic look as he scribbled on the map. “Maybe they were just super shy? But either way, that’s pretty rough. I’m sorry.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “No harm done. What about you, what’s the worst date you’ve ever been on?”

Mark paused, pursing his lips and looking up at the sky. “There was this one time I was asked to fill out my birth chart and do some online personality test before the date even started. That was… weird.”

You laughed, gasping in disbelief. “And how did that go?”

“Oh, the date?” Mark looked back down at you. “Technically, it didn’t even happen. My date decided we weren’t compatible cause I’m a Cancer and an extrovert, or some shit.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.” Mark grinned at you.

After about ninety minutes of slowly working your way up and down the roof and sharing stories, you and Mark finished up at the largest glass dome overlooking the Swarovski store. You were about to settle onto the cold concrete of the roof when Mark pulled out two foldable camping chairs from his duffel bag.

“Did you really think I was gonna let you sit on a roof all night without a bit of comfort?”

“Shrike did,” you replied, standing back up.

“That’s cause she’s an alien. I’m a human being.”

“That’s exactly what an alien would say if they were trying to pass as a human.”

“You got me,” Mark laughed, holding his hands up. “Got binoculars?”

You fished them out of your bag, throwing a pair to him. “Catch!”

Panic crossed his face, but he caught them just in time. “See that? Cat-like reflexes.”

“Sure thing, Catwoman.” You rolled your eyes, looking through your own pair of binoculars.

“Ten-fifteen, no guards,” you mumbled under your breath. Mark jotted down your observations on the sides of the map.

“What time d’you think they turn the lights off here?” You asked.

Mark shrugged. “Hopefully soon. It’s a little blinding.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Must be weird walking through a dark empty mall at night though. I dunno why, but it makes me think of this video game my friend made me play in college. You played as a security guard in a haunted pizzeria.”

“Not that animatronics one.” Mark’s voice was flat with dread.

You removed the binoculars from your eyes, shooting him a surprised look. “Yeah! You know it?”

“Man, don’t even talk to me about that game.”

You laughed. “It had me sleepless for days as well.”

There was silence between you two for several minutes as you went back to the task at hand, until Mark broke the silence once more.

“How’d you get into video games?”

You leaned back in your chair, surprised again at the inquisitive look Mark was giving you. You played with the binoculars in your hands.

“My dad got me into them, actually. He was always really into them as a kid, all the retro stuff. We used to spend a few nights each week completing a video game together whenever I was home.”

“That’s cute,” Mark smiled. “Do you miss Pennsylvania?”

Your stomach flipped. You normally hated that question, but something about the sincere, gentle look Mark was giving you made you want to open up to him even more.

“A little,” you replied, sitting forward and glancing down. “But LA is starting to feel like home. It took a while, but I’m getting there.”

You looked at Mark again. Your stomach continued flipping as a sweet smile spread across his face.

“Good.” His answer was so quiet you almost missed it.

“Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually asked where you’re from, Mark.”

Amidst the darkness, you could’ve sworn a hint of pink spread across his cheeks. “Oh, it’s fine. I’m from Ohio originally.”

“Shut up! We were state neighbours this whole time and you never told me?”

Mark’s eyebrows raised as he let out a hearty laugh. “Yeah, I guess we were! But hey, look at us both now, living it up in the big city.”

“Damn right we are!” You held out your hand for a high five. Mark accepted it, the singular clap reverberating into the night.

You settled into another comfortable silence, only breaking it to make the occasional remark about the guard patterns. When the lights finally dimmed inside the mall, you and Mark let out a quiet cheer of relief. You dug your phone out of your bag to check the time, surprised to see that it was 12:30 am.

“Wow. Time flies, huh?” You flashed your phone screen at Mark.

“Sure does when you’re having fun,” he smiled back, jotting down another note on the side of the map. “Lights out, twelve-thirty.”

You stuffed your phone back into your bag, turning away to hide the huge grin that appeared on your face.

“By the way, what was that on your lock screen?”

Heat flushed to your face as you retrieved your phone once more. Damn this guy, he doesn’t miss a beat.

You passed your phone to him. “It’s the view of the city from the Griffith Observatory. I’ve not actually been up there yet, but I found that picture online and I liked it, so…”

Mark raised his eyebrows at you in disbelief as he gave you back your phone. “You’ve never been there? You should totally go!”

“I know, I know. I just didn’t have time what with school. It just fell to the back of my to do list.”

Mark hummed in response, but he was staring at the sky as if he were lost in space. He bit his lip.

“I could take you there some time. If you wanted,” he offered. His voice was uncharacteristically quiet once again.

“That’d be fun.” You smiled, trying to keep your cool despite the butterflies filling your stomach.

Out of nowhere, a chilling breeze picked up. You shivered violently with a groan of protest, rubbing up and down your arms.

“Son of a bitch, where did that come from?”

Mark reached for something in his bag. “LA weather can still surprise you sometimes. Here, put this on.”

He threw something black onto your lap. You picked it up, realising it was one of his sweatshirts. You cast him a bashful smile. The hit of warmth was immediate when you snuggled into the garment, and a faint smell of cologne enveloped you. You sighed happily to yourself.

“You’re not getting this back.”

“I figured you’d say that.”

After another hour and yet more watching and waiting, you heard Mark’s stomach rumble faintly. An idea popped into your head. You reached into your bag, pulling out a large flask and holding it out to him.

“Here.”

Mark took the flask, unscrewing the lid and sniffing with a curious frown. “What is this?”

“Chicken soup.”

“You brought soup?”

“Well we’re gonna be out here for a while, what did you bring?”

“… Cookies.”

You shook your head. “Good thing you have me to keep you in check. Go on, it’s homemade.”

Mark took a sip. His eyes lit up in delight.

“Damn Zero, that’s good. You made that?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded. “Family recipe. Warms you right through to your bones.”

“In which case,” Mark began, a hint of mischief in his voice as he handed the flask back to you. “If you have this, can I have my sweatshirt back?”

“Nope!”

Mark leant back in laughter, picking up his binoculars again. “So, you’re stubborn and a good chef. I’m learning a lot tonight.”

You scoffed back at him, retreating further into his sweatshirt.

“Chicken soup’s my favourite kind actually.”

“Yeah?”

Mark hummed, binoculars still glued to his eyes. “My mom used to make it for me when I was sick. You’d think I’d hate it cause of that reminder of feeling crappy, but the opposite happened.” He lowered the binoculars, gazing at you for a few seconds in silence. “I guess it just reminds me of… I dunno, that I have people lookin’ out for me.”

Your heart felt like it had been lit on fire. You swallowed, trying to summon the right words, but your mind was blank. You managed a shy, wordless nod, pulling down the sleeves of Mark’s sweatshirt to cover your hands.

The next few hours seemed to fly by in a matter of minutes. By the time you were satisfied with the guard rotations you’d mapped out, it was nearly six in the morning. Your eyes felt like they had papercuts, and your brain ached for a dark room and warm blankets. You and Mark packed away your equipment into your bags. Just as you were about to make your way to the door, Mark unexpectedly grabbed your hand.

“Wait, this is the best part.”

“Whaaaat?” You groaned, desperate for sleep.

Mark led you to the edge of the rooftop once more. “Trust me, it’ll only take a couple of minutes, and it’s more than worth it.”

You looked across the landscape ahead of you. You were about to ask what the fuss was about when bright orange hues bled into the sky from the horizon, and everything stopped.

The sun was slowly rising over the city, bathing all of the buildings in a brilliant orange light. Wispy clouds drifted along, interfering with the sunbeams and creating dancing patterns in the sky. Your eyes widened, a small gasp escaping your mouth.

“You know, I’ve never really stopped to notice this before,” you admitted.

Mark turned to you. “Are you glad you did?”

You nodded at him. “Yeah.”

It dawned on you in that moment, after having looked at him through hours of darkness, just how incredible his eyes were. The early morning light blazed in them, highlighting all the brilliant brown tones that intertwined and danced with one another.

You cleared your throat, taking in a deep breath of the crisp air. Mark looked away, adjusting his bag on his shoulder.

“We, uh…” he shifted on the spot, smiling at the rising sun and scratching the back of his head. “We make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

You grinned back at him harder than ever before. “We sure do.”

Next chapter

#a heist with markiplier #ahwm #heist mark #heist mark x reader #heist! mark x reader #yancy x reader #ahwm yancy x reader #ahwm yancy #my writing #nevernotwriting

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builder051 · 5 years ago

Text

Everything that kills me

A commission for an anonymous client. Criminal Minds.

_______________________________________

take that money

watch it burn

sink in the river

the lessons I learned

everything that kills me

makes me feel alive

The plane ride is uncomfortable. Usually JJ has no problem reading or writing while in motion, letting her eyes and hand move gently with the turbulence, but today, the legal pad in her lap seems to be swimming. The green lines fuzz over and disappear into a blur of the yellow paper, leaving her pen marks looking stark and dreary. A subtle throb has developed behind her right eye and invited a streak of bright aura with it. Some of her letters stand out in three dimensions while others seem to retract into the page.

“The local PD is still calling him a serial rapist,” Hotch says, flipping around his iPad to show the battered faces of four young women. “But with one found dead at the scene and one failing to survive her injuries, we’re probably looking for a serial killer. His time between victims is short, bordering on a spree.” He glances around at the other members of the team. “Time is really of the essence here.”

JJ nods and copies down the note. She scans over what she has so far, as if reading it again will press the bit of information into her brain. She only gets a moment, though, before her vision starts to cross again. JJ rubs her eyes with her knuckle and brings the butt of the pen up to tap against her teeth.

Come on, she tells herself. Concentrate.

It’s been like this on and off for a while now, not that she wants to admit it. If anyone asks, she’s fine. No problems. She’s good to work. And truly, she is. She has more good days than bad ones, sleepless nights notwithstanding. The insomnia probably isn’t even related to post-traumatic stress. JJ lies awake next to Will as often as she does when she’s away on a case. The migraines are a different story, but not one she’s ready to tell anyone else about. At least not yet.

She blinks hard and starts over, re-reading the first line on the page. Her forehead throbs before she finishes the first line of text..

Four young women, raped and battered. Patsy Michaelsen. Age 22. Found at the mouth of a bike trail with two punctured lungs, a miraculously non-lethal slash across her throat, and a used condom in her mouth. The scar will show for the rest of her life; the raspy whisper of her voice is supposedly temporary. The BAU has a file of notes from an interview with local law enforcement, but it’s none too enlightening. A man. A dark hood. A knife. JJ could have guessed the details. She imagines the specter of the unsub leaning over her; large, sweaty hands finding her neck. It makes a line of cold sweat run down her spine.

Then Lydia King, a 24-year-old grad student with a UK passport, dead and buried in a pile of leaves just off the road in front of a playground. Kids found her on their way out to play. Not that she was much more than a kid herself. JJ examines Lydia’s photo, taking in her unblemished chubby face. If she didn’t know better, JJ would have pegged her for an innocent 16. She finds herself wondering if Lydia was a virgin. Then her stomach knots as she feels guilty, so instead hopes the abuse was at least post-mortem.

Jersey Jones was found fewer than twelve hours later. Technically it was the next day, but the accelerated timeline between victims two and three means a spree. The unsub is unravelling. Possibly getting sloppy. He left semen in the vic this time. He’d forgotten the condom, or disregarded it. The 27-year-old Jersey looked closer to 30, another departure from the previous MO. They won’t know for sure it’s the same perp until DNA results come in, but JJ has little doubt.

Then there was Sarah McQueen, the one who got away. She managed to pick her way across six lanes of traffic and into a 24-hour diner where the owner called for an ambulance. The authorities thought she’d been hit by a car until she started vomiting up strips of latex. Local PD put two and two together and called the feds within the hour. Hotch accepted the case as soon as Penelope finished downloading the files, and the team was on the jet before Sarah was out of surgery.

“She’ll be in a delicate position. Traumatized and probably having trouble expressing herself. She has head injuries in addition to slashes on her torso and neck,” Hotch warns.

“That’s another difference from the last three,” Emily points out. “Are we sure she’s not number three? Is this all the same guy?”

“Lexington isn’t that big of a city,” Spencer supplies. “It’s unlikely to have more than one active at a time with that population density. Killer or rapist.”

JJ nods absently in agreement, still scanning her notes.

“Anything to add?” Hotch asks, looking at her.

“Um.” JJ struggles to focus for an uncomfortable moment.

“You ok?” This time, it’s Emily, glancing her way with a concerned expression.

“Yeah. Of course.” JJ clears her throat and swallows. “Looks like he’s escalating. Jersey might have been a victim of opportunity, but things didn’t go as expected, so he went after Sarah before he cooled off?”

“Sarah does have more defensive wounds,” Spencer says. “And the blows to the head might have been an attempt to incapacitate her.”

JJ nods again, glad the spotlight is off her. Focus, she tells herself again. What is with you? You’ve worked while feeling this bad before, no problem.

Hotch starts to lay out plans. As soon as JJ’s instructed to visit the victims in the hospital with Spencer, she lets her mind wander. She taps her pen again, absently counting the dull clicks of the plastic against her teeth.

Five. The number of Patsy’s broken ribs.

Twelve. The number of hours between vics two and three.

Eighteen. The age of Sarah McQueen.

“Hey.”

JJ jumps, instinctively bringing her hand to her chest.

Spencer appears at her shoulder. “Sorry,” he says. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine.” JJ smiles and drops her defensive position. “Want to compare notes?” She looks back to her tight cursive spread over the first page of her legal pad. As usual, Spencer’s written about five times as much, his untidy scrawl marching across several crumpled-edged sheets.

He quickly reads over her shoulder. “No, I think you got everything important.”

“Good.” JJ runs her fingers through her hair, embarrassed of being put on the spot, even though she and Spencer are close. Her nails catch and pull on a few strands, making her wince.

“You ok?”

“Oh, yeah,” JJ repeats. For a second she thinks considers saying headache, but she thinks better of it. All that’ll do is put another worry in her friend’s mind, one that he certainly doesn’t need.

Spencer pauses and squints slightly. “Tell me if you’re not?”

“Of course.”

JJ’s glad when the pilot’s tinny prep for landing announcement sounds. Spencer sits beside her, and she’s relieved to be taken off the spot. He can’t look at her now without being awkward.

The silence between them still feels odd, though, so she takes a bottle of water from her bag. JJ makes to unscrew the cap, but finds her hands trembling too hard to hold it steady. Luckily the jet hits a patch of turbulence to cover the movement, but she feels caught either way. Her mouth is full of thick saliva, and she isn’t thirsty anymore. JJ settles for picking distractedly at the label until the plane touches down on the runway.

The drive to the hospital is downright painful. JJ’s knees ache as she pulls herself up into the front passenger seat of the shiny black SUV. She’s not sure how she wound up riding shotgun, but she’s grateful for the bit of good fortune. The stiff leather seat feels hard and lumpy behind her back, and the air conditioning all but makes her teeth chatter. Clammy sweat gathers on her forehead, but she wipes it away before the local detective behind the wheel has the chance to notice.

“How far to the hospital?” JJ asks, swallowing hard and trying to smile. Her stomach twists uncomfortably again as her mind flickers backward to other times she held pain between her teeth like this.

It’s nothing like those other times. No one is hissing in your ear. No one is holding you against your will.

“Fifteen, twenty minutes?” the detective says, his voice thick with an Appalachian accent. “Not too far.”

Not long for you, but a long time for those girls. A long time when you’re the one tied up.

JJ shakes her head to clear it, but all it does is reignite the throb. “Good,” she says, though her voice sounds anything but..

Spencer asks a question from the backseat, taking control of the conversation. JJ silently thanks him, though he probably has no idea.

Or does he? Guilt joins the noxious brew churning in her gut. They aren’t supposed to profile each other, but they’re not supposed to keep secrets, either. However she puts it, JJ knows she’s in the wrong.

But what’s wrong about hiding a headache? she asks herself. That’s all it is. Just a little headache.

The hospital smells of antiseptic. One whiff practically makes JJ’s eyes burn. Cold discomfort rises in her stomach again as she picks up something else, something like salt and copper hovering just under the pervasive curtain of alcohol-based sanitizer.

The local cop leads them through a maze of hallways to Sarah McQueen’s room. Through the window JJ sees her on her back in the bed, a layer of bandages wrapped tightly around her head, giving the impression of a snowy white ski cap pulled over curtains of icy blonde hair. It looks like a dye job to JJ, maybe even one of those at-home bleach kits. She makes a mental note to check the details of the other girls’ hair and see if that’s part of the pattern.

You should already know, the voice in her head tells her. You’re falling behind.

JJ sighs and shakes her head slightly, her own blonde waves moving on either side of her face. Her eyes feel wet, and she blinks a few times to get a handle on herself. A pool of tears threatens to loose itself down her cheek, so she quickly swipes her thumb across her lower lash line.

When JJ lifts her head, Spencer’s staring at her. He narrows his eyes to a concerned squint, but Sarah begins to cough, and he focuses his attention on her instead.

“Hi, Sarah,” JJ says. She clears her throat, bursting what feels like a bubble of mucous blocking the top of her esophagus. “My name is Jennifer, and this is Spencer. We’re with the FBI.”

The girl doesn’t even have her eyes open, but if the doctors and local PD are letting them question her, JJ assumes Sarah is up to the challenge.

“Mmph.” The girl makes a little groaning sound. Her lashes flutter slightly, but other than that she remains motionless.

JJ swallows. She can’t decide if she needs to cough again. Her vocal cords feel tight, as if an invisible hand is pressing down on the front of her throat.

Spencer picks up where she left off. “Do you remember how somebody attacked you? When you were—Were you walking last night?”

Sarah’s eyelids move again as she squints up at them. A litany of facts and figures flick at the back of JJ’s mind. Don’t walk to your car by yourself. Don’t go out alone after dark.

Don’t give up information no matter how hard you’re questioned.

Don’t let men have their way with you.

Sarah starts to say something, her voice low and raspy. Only a few sounds come out before she moves her head painfully to the side to hack and sputter into her shoulder. A few flecks of blood spatter on the pale green fabric of her hospital gown.

JJ can taste the copper from across the room. She swallows quickly, but cold sweat gathers on the back of her neck as her gag reflex moves jerkily up and down. She practically feels thick fingers reaching for her shoulder, then her throat.

“It—“ JJ starts, desperate to shake the feeling. “You’re not in trouble.”

Too much spit froths under her tongue. Of course Sarah’s not in trouble. Why would she even think that?

Maybe you’re the one in trouble.

Guilt bubbles in her stomach again, combining with something hotter and angrier that sends sickly tendrils up into JJ’s chest. She crosses her arms in front of her, hoping the pressure will at least give her a momentary hold.

“Just, anything you remember can be helpful.”

Sarah opens her mouth. It makes a wet sound, and somehow that’s the last straw for JJ. Oh god, she prays silently, please no. Please not now.

Sourness rises in the back of her throat, and not the kind that can be swallowed back down. Her jawline prickles as her gut presses upward into her chest.

“I’m—excuse me—“ JJ delicately touches her lips with the tips of her fingers, then turns on her heel and hurries from the room. There has to be a bathroom, a trash can, even a mop bucket. Something she can get to before she completely destroys her dignity.

There are emesis basins stacked neatly on the counter at the nurse’s station. JJ snags one and hurries down a deserted hallway. She slows, her breathing ragged, as a heave makes her stomach contract and her shoulders jerk forward. She holds the basin against her chest and backs into the wall, slowly sliding down into a crouch. Stars flicker in the corners of JJ’s vision. Nausea rises up in her, and sourness blossoms across her tongue as she vomits, bringing up bitter coffee and orange juice along with the remnants of last night’s dinner.

The basin trembles in her grip, sending ripples through the disgusting fluid. A drip runs to the end of JJ’s nose. She sniffles, getting a good whiff of the odor of her own sick, and gags painfully again.

“JJ?”

She hears her name from the end of the hall. It sounds miles away, echoing and hazy, but it brings an icy jolt of panic over her anyway.

“No,” she says in a choked whisper, but whoever it is doesn’t hear her. Either that or he doesn’t listen.

Footsteps approach. Spencer’s hand drops onto her shoulder, and JJ jumps, the basin sliding from its loose position in her arms and clattering to the floor. She swears under her breath as the pool of vomit seeps into her shoes.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—again, you know,” Spencer stutters, grasping at her arm to keep her from falling.

“I—it’s—” JJ can’t control the retch that bursts from her chest, and she throws up a third time, bile dribbling in strings hanging from her lower lip. “Oh my god. Sorry.”

“It’s ok,” Spencer says quickly. “It’s ok. You’re alright.” He pauses, cringing, to correct himself. “Well, you’re not, but, it’s fine. You have to breathe, JJ.” He pats her on the back a few times, the soft percussive movement forcing air into her lungs.

JJ’s throat burns with acid. Her mouth waters, and she goes through the motions with a fourth, tiny heave. She stands bent at the waist with her hands on her knees, her hair obscuring her burning face. Spencer tries to help her upright, but JJ resists. “No,” she murmurs. “Just—just a second—”

“Of course.” Spencer gently touches the back of her neck. “I—you feel really warm,” he says. “Do you think you have a fever?”

“No,” JJ says automatically. She whips her hand behind her head to catch Spencer’s wrist. His touch is nothing but soft, but she still can’t stand it. “I’m sorry.” She slowly begins to straighten, retracting her hand into her sleeve and dragging it across her lips. Tears prickle at the corners of her eyes again.

“Don’t worry about it.” Spencer’s eyes are huge and glassy with concern. A soft wrinkle forms between his brows. JJ wants to reach up to smooth it out, but that would require touching him, and she isn’t ready for that yet. “You’re really sick.”

“I’m…” JJ plans on saying fine, but she knows she can’t continue to lie. “Yeah.” It comes out as the tiniest whisper, quiet and crackling with the physical and emotional strain of pushing out the word. “I guess. Yeah.”

“Should I get a doctor?” Spencer glances around. “A nurse, maybe?”

JJ shakes her head. They are in a hospital after all, but she can’t accept help. She can’t let the team see her like this. Fever be damned, she’s been through much worse. She isn’t supposed to fall apart.

“No, I just—” JJ pauses to swallow. “Let me just—back to the hotel. Or the police station. If I just lie down for a minute, I’ll be fine.”

Speaking leaves her fatigued and short of breath. JJ feels herself sway on her feet, and Spencer gently catches her shoulders.

“Please don’t…” JJ murmurs. She can’t stand his touch anymore; it’s as if his long fingers are leaving red-hot furrows that burn away her sweater and blister her delicate skin. “I’m sorry.”

“Ok.” Spencer slowly nods. His face blurs, and JJ isn’t sure if it’s the vertigo finally taking over or a fresh round of tears. “Should I call someone? Hotch?”

“No—”

“Emily, then?” It’s clear what he’s not saying. JJ hates to admit it, but she would feel more comfortable with a woman.

“I—” JJ wavers. “I don’t know. I guess.”

“Alright. Here.” Spencer reaches for the disgusting basin she still has clutched to her chest. “Are you, uh, done?”

“Yes, I think so. Sorry, that’s…” She shakes her head, reigniting the nauseating pain throbbing behind her eyes.

“A natural process of the human body,” Spencer finishes. “I won’t give you any more facts, I promise.”

JJ tries to smile, but her face feels heavy and frozen in a pained expression. “Thanks.”

They drop the basin on an abandoned nurse’s cart and slip out a back door, then down the steps to the parking lot. As soon as Spencer helps her into the car, he dials Emily and puts the phone on speaker.

“Prentiss,” the other woman answers on the first ring. “Did you get anything from Sarah McQueen?”

“Oh.” JJ’s practically forgotten about the girl. Another swoop of guilt rises in her stomach, and she has to swallow hard to keep it from turning into something worse. “Um…”

“You have any luck with the victims’ online presence?” Spencer asks, covering for her effortlessly.

“Actually, yes. Garcia’s pulled what she can from all their accounts, and it looks like they were all into fitness.”

“What, same gym?” The words sear on the way out of her throat, but JJ’s desperate to participate.

“No, more like trail running.”

“That’s really dangerous,” Spencer pipes up. “Women going out alone after dark. Probably wore their hair up. Ponytails are easy to grab, making them more appealing targets…” JJ sees the cogs turning in his head.

“Could it really be that simple?” Emily asks.

“Talk to their friends. See if you can recreate their running routes,” JJ suggests. The last word sticks, and she covers her mouth before the resulting cough can turn into a gag.

“You ok?” Spencer reaches for her again, but retracts his hand quickly.

“JJ?”

“I’m fine, I just—” Nausea rises in her, sending sweat trailing down from her temples. “Oh god.” JJ scrambles to open her door and hang her head out of the car. She barely frees herself from her seatbelt when she throws up a weak stream of bile, almost all of it running sideways into her hair.

“What was that?” JJ hears Emily ask, panic plain in her voice.

“I, um,” Spencer waffles. “Actually why I was calling. JJ’s sick, and I was wondering if you could meet us… I don’t… I just…” he loses steam and begins to stutter.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

“An anxiety attack, maybe?” Spencer guesses. He undoes his seatbelt and scrambles out and around the car. “She’s vomiting, and I think she has a fever.”

“You’re still at the hospital, aren’t you? Try urgent care—”

“No!” JJ says firmly. She wipes her mouth with a shaking hand and uses the car door to push herself upright again. “I just spooked. I’m fine.”

“If you need a rest, you can take one,” Emily says. “Hotch will let you—”

“Please don’t tell him.” JJ presses her fingertips into the corners of her eyes. “I can’t let this get in the way. What if someone else gets attacked tonight?”

“That’s not on you.” Spencer shakes his head emphatically. “We need you at your best. Even just a little sleep will help.”

JJ sighs. Guilt and sickness weigh heavily with the excess saliva running under her tongue. He has a point. She’s not at her best. She hasn’t been at her best for weeks, and a nap isn’t going to make much of a difference. “I’m sorry.” JJ shakes her head. She’s not even sure what she’s apologizing for, but she feels she needs to. Badly.

“JJ…” Spencer looks from her to the phone. “I know there’s something you’re not telling us.”

She shoots him a venomous look, and he quickly continues with, “You don’t have to say anything. And I promise I won’t profile you any more. But, just, you have to know we’re here for you.”

JJ swallows. Her throat feels tight, and she isn’t sure if it’s more or less comfortable than it was before.

“That’s,” she rasps, “I mean, thank you.” She wants to explain more, but at the same time, she’s glad to remain silent. “I will. Sometime.” A hiccup forces its way up, and she covers her mouth. “Sorry.”

“Forget the police station, ok?” Emily says. “I’ll meet you at the hotel.”

“Don’t—” JJ starts

“No, I’ll have Garcia load up some files. I’ll look at them while you rest. Then maybe we can put our heads together once you’re feeling a little better.

“I…” JJ knows she can’t protest. “Thank you. You’re… Just, thank you.”

“You’re just welcome,” Spencer says at the same moment Emily says, “Of course.”

Spencer drives back to the hotel. He appears to do his best to move the car smoothly, only skidding through one dangerously short yellow light. “Ok, here we are,” he says after a few minutes of silence.

Thank god, JJ thinks. She opens her door with trembling fingers, pausing to breathe through a queasy hiccup before attempting to exit the vehicle.

“Let me help you--” Spencer runs around the back of the car and meets her on the passenger side.

“No!” JJ squeals before she can stop herself. “I--I’m sorry.” She covers her mouth with one hand and holds the other up to stop him. “I just--I can’t.”

“That’s alright.” Spencer stops in his tracks and holds the car door open instead. “I won’t touch you. Is it fever aches?”

The kid has to know that isn’t it. He’s offering you an out, JJ thinks. Take it.

“Um. Yes,” she says with more formality than she means. She wraps her arms around her chest as she stands up, a shiver wracking her thin frame.

“Here.” Spencer holds his hand an inch or so off the back of her shoulder, ready to catch her should she fall. “We have rooms on the ground floor this time. No elevator ride.” He offers a wan smile.

“Good,” JJ manages.

They walk to the end of the hall. Spencer taps on the last door in the row, and Emily opens the door. “Oh, my god,” she says upon seeing them. Then, “I’m sorry. That’s--you look--”

“Dead?” JJ suggests with a dark smile. It’s so inappropriate that she wonders if she’s getting close to delirium.

“Well, that’s not what I was going to say, but now that you mention it…” Emily trails off, shaking her head. “Get in here and take your shoes off.” She points to JJ’s vomit-covered loafers.

“Looks like you’ve got it from here,” Spencer says. He lifts his hand in thanks to Emily, then gives JJ a hard stare. “Take care of yourself, ok? We’re all here for you to lean on.”

“Yes, exactly,” Emily echoes. She looks to Spencer. “Hotch wanted you back at the police station.”

Spencer nods. “Ok. See you later? Hope you feel better, JJ.”

“Thanks,” JJ whispers.

Now that she’s in a room where she can relax, her energy seems to be draining out of her along with her guard. She divests herself of her shoes and gingerly moves toward one of the beds. Emily helps her sit, then slips into the bathroom to run a washcloth under the tap.

“Did you bring files from the station?” JJ asks. “I thought Penelope was putting some on a laptop for us.”

“Yes,” Emily answers. “But for me. You need to rest.”

“I--” JJ starts, but her train of thought leaves her as a wave of exhaustion crushes over her. Tears prickle at the corners of her eyes as she feels tired and frightened and thankful all at once.

“Hey.” Emily sits on the edge of the bed and begins to carefully sponge JJ’s face. “It’s ok, you know? We all have our days when we need a little help.”

“Hm.” JJ nods and presses her lips together. “Yeah,” she whispers. “Thank you.”

#commission #fanfic #fanfiction #criminal minds #jj #jennifer jareau #emily prentis #spencer reid #jj whump #female whump #emeto #emetophilia #illumivomit #hurt comfort #ptsd #sickfic #fever #migraine #headache

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mirasdarkmaterials · 6 years ago

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THE SECRET DOCTRINE - The Atlantean Plan - Chapter 1

ONE: The Fall Of Isla de Pascua

Shimmering blue-green waves splash endlessly in an open vastness of the Pacific Ocean. The gently churning of the open ocean places the wary mind at rest as the plane rocks back and forward like a boat at sea.

Ahead, the sea gives way to rocky red earth. A rusty red color breaks the calming ocean blue with white water splashing against the rocks as the waves try to overtake the land but is kept at its limits. The plane pitches against the headwinds that shake the cabin like a tumbler-jar.

Glancing at the reflection of two blue-grey eyes staring back at the observer, he is aware that his hair has become messy from the on-board air. He brushes back his light brown hair with his long slender fingers. His face looking tired and uncertain. The flight has been a long trip! Over 22 hours from his home in British Columbia to this hot, desert-like island out in the middle of nowhere.

‘Isla de Pascua’ Meir thinks as he looks at a geologic map that he has been studying. Meir is what you’d call a free-to-hire geologist. Never working for governments or corporation. People hired him to investigate something geomorphic and, in a month, he usually mails the results to his employer. Meir liked to work unabated, his own boss. But this time he was hired into a group of researchers from around the world. Two names: Jen Kleito, geophysics from Greece and Kiera Azaes, a geology historian from Portugal; were to meet him when he arrives at the airport.

He almost did not take the job when he learned that he was going to have to work with two other individuals; but he needed the money and the price that his employer was paying was…almost to good to be true! Nevertheless, here he was, about to land on Easter Island.

Touching down on the ground, he has finally arrived at the Mataveri International Airport. He closes his eyes as he never really liked flying, and the landing-part scared him the most! The plane rolls down the taxiway as it makes a sharp left turn into the terminal’s parking lot. The plane stops as the engines cut out and he looks outside to see a truck bringing a staircase over for the passengers to disembark. He wondered ‘How do you push a person with a disability down those stairs?’ He could not guess at the time, thinking that the stairs must have some type of ramp from the disabled, but luckily there were no wheelchair bound people on this flight today.

Meir collects his carry-on and exits the plane as he walks over to the luggage being unloaded and takes his two bags; one bag with clothes and one bag with his personal surveying gear. He wipes his forehead as it is hot and muggy outside. It is always hot and muggy on Pascua! He looks ahead, wondering how he is going to find his connection.

Ahead, there is a tall, six-foot-high woman wearing some loose-fitting bright plaid clothes. Her hair is almost white and tied back in a ponytail! Her skin pale white, like it has not seen the sun. She does not look like anyone that would fit the role of a geologist; but in her hands she holds a sign with one word: ‘Rainier’.

Meir smiles as he walks over to the woman as he greets her. “Meir Rainier…you must be?”

She smiles as she puts the penned sign away as she shakes Meir’s hand. “Kiera Azaes.” she says, her voice sounding like it is recovering from a cold.

“It is nice to finally meet you Mrs. Azaes…” as Kiera takes both of his heavy bags with ease without much word from Meir as he was shocked but just goes with it. He hurries to catch up with Kiera as he looks at his bags “It is okay, I can handle my own bags…” he says as she just smiles as she looks towards her park car.

She sets the bags down as David hopes nothing got broken in the flight. With the bags placed in the backseat, Meir takes the passenger’s seat as she takes the drivers seat. She hands a small badge to him to wear. He looks at it “What’s this?” as he looks at the tag: MEIR RAINIER ~ OCEANID ON-LAND EXPLORATION. “Okay? So we are striving to look official?”

Kiera nods as she engages the engine and throws it in drive.

Meir glances around, noticing they are missing one soul “Where is Miss Kleito?” Meir comments as Kiera fills in him.

“She is waiting for us at the research site,” she states as she drives on the outskirt road that separates the airport from Hanga Roa. Meir looks out his window to a gentle slope that seems to just end abruptly. “That is…”

“Rano Kau…” Meir says as he just familiarized himself with the names of all the extinct volcanoes that were wasting away. Easter Island was a dead island, volcanically inactive. At one time, this entire island was covered in vegetation and trees, but deforestation by the ancients have left this place a wasteland. They were heading to the youngest of the volcanoes, Poike.

Keira studies Meir for awhile and can see that he is uncomfortable. “I take it that you don’t work often with others!” she remarks as he turns and glances at her, his eyes furrowed and mouth crinkled like having bit into a lemon.

“No,” he says with a deep breath and sighs “my way of getting my answers and how I conduct geology is not…” as he pauses to find the right word.

“Typical?.” Kiera says as Meir glances at her and lightly smiles. “We all were sought for our ‘odd’ approaches to geology and science. Call it intuition, but we pose talents that the Oceanid…” she pauses and carefully says “…collaboration, needs.” she smiles and adds cheerfully, “Consider us, family!”

Meir turns back to the mountainside as they follow the airport to the other side of the island, 1.4 miles down the taxiway and make a gentle left-hand turn and follow the coast. They slow down as the road looks in bad shape. Keira and Meir look ahead as the road is barely hanging on…the whole land seemed to have fallen off into the ocean as the waves roll over the basalt rocks. There is a look of concern on Keira’s face as she looks at the road. “Think it is safe?” he asks as Kiera pushes the gas, they will soon find out as they skirt the drop off.

Meir is left to wonder how much of the road is like this…and from the look of concern on Keira’s face, something tells him that this was once dry land. He takes out his cell phone and calls up his app that he uses to detect earthquakes. The USGS in California collects all the data and in a few minutes’ releases it to the public. Right off the island, somewhere in the water, there is a new squiggly line; ‘It was an earthquake?’ he wonders.

Clearing the obstacle, they go down the bumpy dirt road as they breathe a sigh of relief. They follow the coast as Meir keeps a weathered eye for any other signs of island collapse and sees small areas that have weathered and worn away, but nothing that looked like that!

Over ancient flat pahoehoe lava flows, the land is flat and unimpressive. There is a rise in front of them and a series of hills in the north, with the tallest now behind them. Meir looks at the water as his eyes widen. A massive crack opens from the ocean and splits across the landscape, racing from the road. “Look!” as he points to the black crack. Keira shakes her head as she does not know what it means. The crack splits the road, Kiera punches it as she hits the crack with a terrible bump. “What the hell!”

“We need to go get Jen!” Kiera says as Jen is at the foot of Mount Poike as the ground begins to quiver. The instruments that she had been setting up all morning rattle. In her mind, she says ‘Earthquake?’ as the history of powerful quakes on Easter Island is rare to almost unheard of! Looking to the east, Mount Poike grows, rises as if the whole earth is was growing upward. Off in the Pacific, powerful explosions erupt rocks high into the sky before raining back down. The Tongariki heads in the southwest, near the coast sway back and forward as the ground she is standing on lifts her into the air. Massive cracks split across the landscape as the ocean floods in a hurry.

The ground buckles and the earth fall back down, knocking over all the heads and the cracks widen and gas explosions from deep within the earth blows lava rocks all over the place. Jen grabs her steel carrying case and covers her head as rocks the size of oranges rain down upon her. Mount Poike begins to collapse, crumbling away in landslides as the ocean splashes against the rocks it 30-foot sprays.

Keira and Meir look ahead as their brains can’t comprehend what their eyes are seeing. Mount Poike rises into the sky…as if the mountain was swelling, ready to erupt. Massive blocks of earth explode out of the ground as Kiera must dodge walls of old basalt. Meir is death-gripping the seat belt as the earth seems to roll, the road disappearing as they drive down a hill only to hit the gravel hard and be pushed back up.

“It’s a rolling earthquake!” Meir says as he has read about these in collage and seen one when he was only 7 years old. It happened at his home on the North Pacific coast of Vancouver Island. The ground rolled like waves on the ocean. He rose and fell with the earth, it was very disorienting!

Kiera lays on her horn as she drives into camp. She and Meir see Jen laying on the ground as they look at Mount Poike sliding away into the sea. Kiera places the car into park and runs over to Jen. Meir gets out to give her a hand...to find that Jen is okay, just a little banged up. The sound of collapsing earth eats away at their nerves as they help Jen to her seat as Meir looks at the mountain break away in blocks, looking as the fractures spread across the island. “We have to move!” he yells at Keira as she looks at what he was looking at, she is frozen with dread. The mountain is gone and the ocean is advancing!

In their car, she turns back the way they came as she looks in her rear-view mirror to watch the whole island dropping off, the ocean roaring towards them. She throws the car into drive as she flies across the landscape. Orange size rocks bang into the car as it startles them every time. She tosses her phone into Meir’s lap. “Open my contacts and call the airport and have them read the plane!” as he looks through her contacts and finds the only name that looked like it would belong to a plane company.

By the time they pass the Rano Raraku splatter cone, he was able to get through as he addressed the person on the other line. “I am calling on behalf of Mrs. Azaes…we need you to get the plane ready to take off!” he commands.

“Who is this?” the man commands in an odd sounding voice.

Meir looks at Kiera, “He wants to know who I am!” he says, annoyed and glancing out the window to the vanishing earth.

“Tell him that you work for the Oceanid On-land Exploration…” she tells him as the man on the phone hears Kiera’s voice as his attitude changes.

“What did Miss Azaes need?”

“Get the plane ready to take off when we arrive! The whole east side of the island is erupting!” he says as he looks into the mirror and see nothing but water! The ocean is higher then he is as he looks wide eyed at Kiera. “The ocean is…?”

“Higher…” she answers, “yeah! We are sinking!” she tells him as the ocean looks like a tsunami as the wave takes out everything. Looking ahead, they climb out of the sink, but it seems to follow them!

Looking ahead, the ocean is racing towards them as the earthquake has taken out the road. Kiera slams on the breaks as she yells. “Damn!” as she looks at Meir. “Wasn’t there a road back there?”

He thinks and nods as they make a U-turn and head north, across the island as they look east to a massive wall of water racing towards them. “Wave!” he shouts as the roar through farming communities, doing about 80 miles per hour, the road is killing the car! Higher and higher they climb, up the side of the largest volcano on the island, the wave is about two miles away, but thanks to the mountain of basalt, it is splitting into two.

Coming to the end of the road, they make a hard-left turn as they resume heading west, away from the chaos. With a view of the city below, the road begins to lift high into the sky as they quickly sink and rise again…but this time, continue to rise as they watch the wave roll through the city as the earthquake overloads transformers as they explode. There are fiery explosions as gas mains break and columns of smoke form. The hill they are on begins to sink as they watch cracks cut through the landscape and across the road.

“It isn’t just the east side!” Kiera says as she punches the gas. They need to get to the airport now! With the airport in view, it was hit bad! The runways are fractured. Kiera continues straight as Meir glances at the turn and realizes that at this speed, they will roll!

“Oh Kiera...the road...you can't...make that turn!” he says as she isn’t distracted and blows across the road and onto an emergency road for the airport. It is blocked by a gate. “Gate! Gate!” he panics as he sees that she isn’t stopping, and he braces for impact. She cuts off the road and slams through the fence as she feels the car’s under carriage be ripped by lava rocks that are naturally scattered all over the island.

On the run way, a commercial jet waits, its engines hot as they pull near the plane. The pilot waving them to hurry as his eyes look upon an island tumbling into the sea. Jen, Meir and Kiera exit the car as Jen and Kiera race to the plane; but Meir will not leave his gear behind. Kiera turns and sees that he is collecting the computers and his luggage.

“Forget it!” Kiera screams. “Leave it!” as the pilot urges her to get onboard. With everything in hand, Meir runs across the taxiway as he begins climbing the stairs, carrying his gear. He feels the ladder shake as the cracks open and fountains of water begin to erupt. He throws the gear into the plane. The ladder falling just as Kiera and Jen grab onto whatever skin they can grab and pull him into the plane.

“Your one crazy sum-of-a-bitch!” Jen says, still bleeding.

“Its water!” Meir says as he looks frantic. “Water is exploding out of the earth!” the jet violently rocks as the captain engages the plane as air traffic control calls him in.

“Passenger jet 377412N 256756W, stand down. You are not clear to go!” the controller commands as the captain ignores the order. He looks ahead, there is nothing in the sky. The plane roars down the runway, being sprayed, pelted and rocked by the airstrips condition as he pitches the jet up and they leave the ground before they expected. Looking out the window, the ground drops off and in front, the ground rises above the plane. The captain white eyed, pulls up as the plane barely makes it over the rise before it falls away and the ocean rolls in.

They circle around as the whole island seems to fracture and break away into massive blocks. The city of Hanga Roa is swept away into the ocean as the ocean replaces land. Only the summit of Ma′unga Terevaka remains above the ocean as the waters churn like mud. The ships in the area are pulled down with the island as there is a rebound, a shockwave radiates away from where Easter Island was. Soon the water rises on the island of Terevaka. A massive tsunami pulls all the soil and life away from the mountain top, leaving a rocky crag.

Jen and Meir stare out the window at the empty place where Easter Island once was. All the ancient history, mystery and lore is gone. Resting somewhere under the Pacific Ocean. No one has an answer. Jen shakes her head, the trauma of seeing her own death still raw. “Never in recorded history has a whole island just sank under the waves.”

“Well, not exactly…” Kiera says as she checks on her passengers “…10 thousand years ago, that happened to the ancient of Atlantis.”

“Atlantis!” Meir says, tired and aching. “Atlantis is a fictional place made-up by Plato.” he says as Kiera just shakes her head.

“And they said that plate tectonics was also fiction…” Kiera offers as Meir returns to looking at the ocean as they are traveling east away from the setting sun. Kiera gets up as she can see that they need some time to reflect what they just saw.

“Where to?” the captain asks as his eyes look to the eastern horizon.

“Sao Miguel…” Kiera says as she takes a seat in the copilot’s seat and stares across the vast Pacific Ocean as they soar through the clouds. The knowledge of what has happened on Easter Island still fresh in her mind. She has much to be grateful, if it wasn’t for Meir’s selfless actions back on the taxiway, all the research and data would have been lost. Years of research, gone. She leans back in the seat as she closes her eyes as the captain glances at her.

“You can go back and get some sleep, I’ll call you once we cross over the Atlantic.” he offers as she shakes her head taking out a needle and vial of blue fluid as she draws some of the fluid into the needle and pushes it into the base of her neck.

Rubbing her sore skin, “I don’t think I could honestly sleep…right now!” as the faces of terror on the people’s faces are still fresh in her memory. No salvation for the people of Easter Island, only death! The captain can see the ethical turmoil in her eyes as he looks back out the window as he stares out across the skyline, watching for other planes and things that might damage his plane.

In the back of the plane, Meir and Jen sit quietly, just staring out the windows as they look out upon the Pacific Ocean. The ocean looks so peaceful and serene. Unaware of the devastation that just occurred on a remote island that most have never visited before.

Meir grows bored of watching the endless blue, so he takes out his phone and pulls up the USGS site to see if they registered the earthquake at Isla de Pascua. He would call to warn someone, but cell service was non-existent out here and only internet was provided by the plane...and it was spotty at time. He looks at a map of the South Pacific Ocean and finds the tiny island of Pascua and sees a massive red alert near the island. It was a massive 9.9, shallow earthquake. Another quake registers near the city of Hanga Hoa as a 9.8 and right under the island, a powerful quake that has the word: ERROR. ‘Error?’ Meir wonders as he pulls up the records and sees that the seismographs were recording a 9.9 before all the graphs abruptly…end. ‘They don’t know what happened to the island!’ he realizes. He then ponders. ‘They think that it was isolated earthquakes, not that the whole island got sucked under the ocean! That much water displacement...’ he realizes that the horror isn’t over as he quickly opens his Facebook app as he can’t text or call and will have to hope someone is reading his page.

‘Just Escaped Easter Island…The Whole Island Is Gone! Massive Seismic Disturbance Has Caused The Island To Disappear Into The Ocean. Please Alert Authorities Of Possible Mega-Tsunami For The South American, Central American, North American, Australia And Asia Coast - Rainier.’

As he hits send, he waits for the message to upload as they near the Galapagos Islands. Meir takes his phone, looking out the window. If there was a mega-tsunami out there…he should see evidence of it here.

In the cockpit, the captain and Keira look out the window as they look across the ocean to the Galapagos Islands. Keira stares at the green island as the white-water lapping at the black rocks begins to pull back rapidly. The shoreline from Isabela Island reaches out for the expanding shoreline of Fernandina Island. Meir, sitting in the cabin watches the water begin to crest as he snaps some pictures of the receding water and the growing tsunami as he jumps out of his seat, startling Jen, as he rushes to the cockpit.

“There is a tsunami!” he shouts as he looks out the window at the islands of Isabela and Fernandina, the water has drawn back so far that now the island of Fernandina is reconnected back to Isabela, where there was once a 50-foot-deep passage. The water begins to rise as the wave seems to rise towards the plane. At an estimated height of around 3000 feet, it is the largest mega-tsunami ever seen by human eyes! The wave rolls up the shore with devastating results as it scours the earth, obliterating old outcrops and throwing rocks the size of houses around.

The wave hits the active volcano of Cerro Azul, the spray impressive as the water explodes high over the summit. Unable to crest the 5000-foot volcano, the wave wraps around the volcano as the tsunami rolls over the lowlands of Isabela Island. On Fernandina island, the water rolls up the gentle slope of the island with little to no obstacles as the water poured into the caldera as the wave rolled through the harbor and crested against the shore of Isabela Island

Flying over Isabela Island, the green earth with its cold black lava flows disappeared under an azul blue wave that towered over the land by almost 2000 feet as it races towards the tiny village of Santo Tomas. Serra Negra volcano cut the strength out of the wave as the volcano completely disappeared under the wave as the force of the wave was split to the north and to the south, right towards the lightly populated city of Puerto Villamil. The city was washed away under a wave that towered over the city by almost 1300 feet as the wave raced towards the airstrip. The captain steers up as a plane rolls down the run way, trying to take off. The wave seems to explode and swallows the plane as it disappears in the tsunami.

Meri is shock shocked that he forgot to take photographs as the devastation is complete. He finally realizes his error as he snaps a few photographs from the cockpit as the wave is now behind the main tsunami. The tsunami overtakes the island of Santa Cruz, wiping the five towns off the map. Meir has seen enough as he leaves the cockpit as Jen stands there at the door, equally devastated as she looks emotionally sick.

“All those poor people!” Jen whispers as Meir looks at his Facebook post, not a single comment! All these people could have been warned. He thinks about the lives in his hometown. By the time the tsunami reaches them, it would have weakened, but still have a wave of around 300 feet! That is pretty much Victoria and his town at Crystal Cove. He uploads the pictures from the Galapagos to his site as they immediately receive views and the comments begin to roll in.

‘Where Is This?’

‘Were You There?’

‘How Tall Is That Wave?’

‘Is This Connected To The Easter Island Earthquake You Mentioned?’

Meir sits down as he looks out the window as they fly over the location of San Cristobal. Only the summit of El Junco rises above the waters surface as the ocean looks muddy. He closes his eyes as he has seen enough. He loves a good disaster, but to watch the world end, it was too much to bear! To watch a 3000-foot wave wipe away everything man has created makes him feel so small. He thinks about all that he has seen, all that he has been through as his thoughts go back years; to a time when he was addressing a pretentious employer from Alaska:

‘What is the likelihood of a mega-tsunami hitting our rig?’ his employer asks him as he never considered mega-tsunami’s much of a threat. They were especially rare in the field of geosciences and hardly studied as the likelihood of one happening is about once every 25 thousand years. The last mega-tsunami to occur was back in 1980 at the Mount St. Helens eruption sent a landslide into Spirit Lake, causing a 853 foot tsunami to race across the lake. But that mega-tsunami was nothing compared to the 1958 Lituya Bay mega-tsunami that was over 1,710 feet high.

‘You have a better chance of winning the lottery and dying the same day by choking on a piece of cauliflower then seeing a mega-tsunami…’ Meir says as the employer interrupts him.

‘So…not a threat then!’

Meir shakes his head. He has learned that predicting anything in the field of science is strongly frowned upon. It isn’t science when you guess or predict, that stuff is left to the nut-jobs and supposedly gifted folks. He gives an example. ‘Anything and everything can be a threat if the scenario is just right! Take for example, there is an island in the Canary Archipelago called La Palma. On that island is a volcano called Cumbre Vieja.’ as he draws the island and places an ‘X’ for the volcano. ‘Now, let’s say that the western half of the volcano has a volume of 500 cubic kilometers with a mass of 1.5 trillion metric tons and it slide into the ocean all at once…’ as he slashes the image with his marker. ‘…that displacement would create a wave 3,280 high…’

‘Three thousand!’ he says as the volume is incomprehensible.

Meir nods, ‘3,300-foot-tall wave! The greater the displacement, the greater the wave. By the time the time the wave rolled upon the eastern seaboard, it would still be 164 feet tall! Cities like Halifax, Boston, New York, Baltimore, Washington D.C., Miami and Havana…devastated! Cities in Europe and Africa would be completely wiped off the map! Vanish from history...like Atlantis and Crete...!’ Meir says as his words leave a chill in the room.

‘Is there anything in the Pacific that could do this to us here?’

Meir thinks of any localized threats and can’t think of one. His mind goes to the one-of-many Aleutian volcanoes…they have produced tsunami’s in the past, but nothing of massive scale. His thoughts go south and think of a paper he read. ‘Mauna Loa!’ he says as he deliberates ‘About 110,000 years ago, a massive block of the volcano fell into the ocean and triggered a mega-tsunami that inundated the Hawaiian Islands to about 1,600 feet, as evident on the slopes of Kohala volcano. Let’s say, that a part of Maui or Hawaii Island were to collapse today…about, oh lets says 20 minutes ago…we’d have about 10 minutes to get to high ground. Every city on the west coast of North America and South America, below 300 feet would be destroyed! The cities closest to the ocean, completely gone!’

Meir opens his eyes as his phone is constantly vibrating, people finally taking his comments serious. He scrolls through the comments until he sees one from a fellow colleague at Menlo Park:

‘How Much Of Easter Island Slide Into The Ocean?’

Meir texts back:

‘All Of It…The Whole Damn Island!’ he adds ‘The Galapagos Islands Were Just Hit. Many Of The Islands Are Just Gone! Underwater Now! Reference Pictures…’

Second later:

‘Can You Come To Menlo Park?’

Meir wants to go, but he quickly types his warning.

‘Mega-Tsunami In Pacific Ocean, Heading Towards The West Coast Of America’s. You Need To Evacuate!’

He warns as he does not hear anything for awhile and considers that the conversation was purposely dropped. About an hour later, his phone vibrates again. This time it is from a friend in Alaska.

‘Meri, Don’t Come To West Coast! Tsunami Warning Issued…It Is Chaos Here! Give Me A Call When You Get This Message! - Melusine-Siyokoy’

Stories are coming into his Facebook feed about the tsunami that just devastated Panama. Looking out the windows, they are sopped in a thick cloud bank as rain pelts the window. The plane rocks hard as the air is turbulent, but soon they break through the storm and are approaching the coastline as Jen calls out for Meir.

“Meir!” Jen cries out as he snaps out of his day-dreaming and walks over to the cockpit as they soar through the clouds. The skyline opening as new clouds rise in the horizon. Black clouds rising from the ground as the city of Panama is on fire! The tsunami had arrived, and multiple waves continue to rip the city apart. About ten miles into the mainland, there are massive ships resting against the hillsides where the wave lost its power…the canal, gone. The people of Panama shall never awake from this nightmare!

#aqua #aquaman #atlantis #easter island #pacific ocean #tsunami #mers #mermaids #mermaid #merman #mermen #fish folk #fish peopl #legend of atlantis #disaster #transformation #transfiguration

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justanothersecretfangirl · 6 years ago

Text

I Got the Boy (part 1)

A/N: so this fic is loosely based off the Jana Kramer song. I emphasize the loosely part, but yeah. The bold is song lyrics, and the Italics are flashbacks. Hold on tight. It's gonna be a bumpy ride 😂

Another huge thanks @embracehappy for reading through this mess!

I saw your picture in a paper, Honeymoon in Jamaica, she’s a lucky girl

You look so grown up in your black tux, from a ball cap in a pickup, seems like another world

You and me and our big dreams, falling in love

We were two kids in the backseat, all fearless and young

“Heads up everyone,” comes the booming voice of Dylan Lovelace as he made his way up the steps into the large conference room at the office where you work.

You glance up from your file that you were working and Olivia quickly ends her call, stuffs her phone away on her desk and turns to face Dylan. “We have a VIP coming into today to tour the facility and record a quick demo. We will stay professional and make Shadow Recording proud, yes?” he started, and you roll your eyes, turning back to the chart in front of you. You were not interested in working with an VIPs, much preferring to help small indie artists. Anyone with a good head on their shoulders. You tuned out Dylan’s voice, focusing on your work. Soon, Dylan left the room, but returned soon thereafter.

“Everyone, Shawn Mendes will be joining us today and the next few weeks. Make sure to make him feel welcome.”

As soon as the name leaves his mouth, your heart stops. Your head jerks up so fast that you’re sure you suffer whiplash. You see the one person you had been running from for 3 years standing in your office. He claps Dylan on the shoulder, thanking him before glancing around the room, offering a warm smile.

You and Olivia exchange glances, her eyes wide, before Shawn catches your eye. He holds your eye for a minute and offer a small nod and slight smile, completely melting you into a puddle of goo, before he turns back to Dylan. Feeling a burning in your cheeks, you quickly look back down to the file in front of you, pretending to read it as Dylan continues on. You only rejoin the discussion happening around you when you hear your name. “I’m sorry, what?” you ask, glancing up at Dylan.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “I said, will you please show Mr. Mendes to the studio and help him with anything he needs. I want you to do this. You are the best we have in indie mixing. Give him anything he needs.”

“But… what about Sanjay? He’s the pop guy. Shawn’s style isn’t exactly indie…”

“Shawn is trying something new. That’s why he’s here. Is there a problem, Y/N?” You shake your head and glance over at the pop star, who is watching you closely. You could very easily have gotten out of this project. You were technically Dylan’s boss’ boss. But that would mean everyone would find out.

“Not at all...” You decide 3 weeks is worth being able to continue doing what you loved.

“Good.” He throws his glance between Shawn and you before turning to walk into his office. “Back to work, everyone.”

I got the first kiss and she’ll get the last

She’s got the future, I got the past

I got the class ring, she got the diamond and wedding band

I got the boy, she got the man

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Geoff shouts, as he makes his way across the parking lot of the bar, toward the car of the woman he was going home with. He was smashed, no simple feat for a man of that stature, but he had single handedly downed almost an entire bottle of Jack Daniels.

You chuckle as you watch him try to fit into the car. “Don’t worry Geoff, I won’t!” He finally gets into the car, seat belts in and shut the door. He waves to us, and both you and Shawn wave back as they drive off.

Shawn chuckles and turns to you. “How much did he drink exactly?” he asks, as he opens the door of the Jeep for you to climb in.

“Oh I’d say he drank at least three fourths of the bottle.” You giggle and he shakes his head, laughing. He shuts the door and runs around the Jeep before climbing in the driver’s side and starting it.

“Let me guess, you finished it off for him?” he asks, glancing over at you, eyebrows arched.

You turned to him and raised an eyebrow. This causes him to chuckle, and you give in, laughing along with him. “Well of course. He was drunk, and acting like an idiot. I couldn’t let him be a drunk idiot by himself, could I?”

He pulls the Jeep out of the parking lot and starts down the highway, still laughing. “Oh the trouble you two get into.”

You roll your eyes playfully and glance out the window as the night zips past. “Oh please Shawn, you’re the worst of us all.”

“No arguments there.” He chuckles, and grabs your hand. You glance at him to find him looking at you. He shoots you a wink before intertwining your fingers. You feel your cheeks turn red and glance back out the window, a giant smile on your face.

You drive in comfortable silence for a good 10 minutes before coming to a stop. You were at the Toronto Music Gardens. You and Shawn had been here many times before, loving the concept and the beautiful scenery, but it looks very different at night.

Without saying a word, Shawn put the car in park, reaches in the backseat to grab a blanket and then jumps out. He jogs around the Jeep, opens the door for you and you jump out, stumbling slightly into his chest. He just chuckles, steadying you. You walk hand in hand across the park until you find the perfect patch of grass on a slight hill. You spread out the blanket, and lay down gently. He follows your lead and now you both are laying down on your backs, staring up at the stars. You spend the next few hours talking, and enjoying the peacefulness of the evening.

“Y/N/N?” he mumbles, and you stir lightly, having been just about asleep in his arms.

“Yeah Shawn?”

“I have something for you.” he whispers, and you finally open your eyes. You glance down to his right hand and watch as he pulls his ring off his finger. “Now, I know this will be too big for you, but I want you to have it anyways.” He starts, as you stare down at the ring in his hand. Your heart is beating a million miles a minute.

“Y/N, I love you more than anyone or anything on this planet. I know, my life is just starting to get absolutely crazy, and I don’t want anything out of this except for you to know exactly how much I love you. Would I mind still being with you in 30 years? Hell no. Nothing would make me happier.. but I also know I live a life that makes this extremely hard. We both have so much more to do in our lives, and I want us to do them together. But I do want to marry you one day Y/N Y/L/N. So, as a promise to you that one day I will do just that, will you keep this safe for me?”

With tears in your eyes, you turn around in his grip and take his face in your hands. “Shawn Mendes, you are such a piece of work, but you are my piece of work. I love you so much, and I would love nothing more than to keep this safe for you,” you say, taking the ring from his hand and holding it tightly in yours. You glance down at it, a permanent smile on your face, before glancing up at him. He was watching you, a content smile on his face. You take one more glance at the ring before leaning in and crashing your lips onto his.

Yeah there’s an old you that I knew,

Fake IDs to get into those spring break bars

Back woods on a four wheel, hanging on tight, I can still feel my racing heart

And now you’re cleaned up with a haircut, nice tie and shoes

If things were different and I had a choice, which would I choose?

“We don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to.” You were looking up at Shawn, eyes wide. He glanced over at you, then back at the ATV’s parked in front of him. Your dad and brothers were hurrying about, picking up this or that, or tightening this piece or that piece, stalling.

“I want to. I just… I’ve never done anything like this.” Shawn glanced over at you, a nervous smile on his face. You were sure that the only reason he agreed to come today was to impress your dad and brothers.

“Here. Hold this,” you say, handing him your helmet. “I have an idea.” You take off running toward your mom and dad. After explaining the situation, you convince them to let you and Shawn ride the RAZR. You jog back over to Shawn.

“We’re going to ride in the RAZR. It’s a little easier to ride than the wheelers, and you can even drive if you’d like.” Shawn’s face lit up. “Plus, there's more room for those giant legs of yours.” He laughed out loud at that comment, and finally loosened up, ready to enjoy the new experience.

Later that night, after all the riding and commotion of the day, everyone sat around a campfire, roasting marshmallows and telling jokes and stories. Shawn strummed softly on his guitar, humming melodies to himself. You glance over at him, a smile on his face, even through his singing. You softly started singing along with him. He looked up at you, a huge smile on his face. He stops singing and lets you finish the song. You laugh at him, but kept singing until the song ended.

“That’s my girl,” he grins and wrapped you tightly in a hug. That was the first of many stolen moments between you and Shawn, even though you should have never let yourself believe in a happily ever after.

I got the first kiss and she’ll get the last

She’s got the future and I got the past

I got the class ring, she got the diamond and wedding band

I got the boy and she got the man.

The room erupted in hollars and cheers, clapping and smiles filling everyone’s faces. You smiled at Shawn through the window. Teddy was sitting next to you and hugged you quickly before hopping up and joining the festivities. That was it. You were done recording Shawn’s first album. It had been a whirlwind production. But when Teddy Gieger approached you to help produce some of the tracks, you just couldn’t say no. You and Shawn had been friends for a couple years at this point, and you were sure he had something to do with it, but honestly, you just couldn’t be happier for the opportunity.

“Y/N,” you heard behind you. You smiled, turning to look at the giant in front of you. He was the literal embodiment of happiness, and you couldn’t help but wrap him in a big hug. He rested his head on the top of yours and sighed contentedly.

When you pulled away, you were about to say something, but Shawn cut you off by pulling you back in and placing a soft kiss on your lips. Your eyes widened, surprised, but eventually melted into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut.

I got the first kiss and she’ll get the last

We each got something, the other will never have

I got the long hair, hot head

She got the cool and steady hand

I got the boy and she got the man

“Y/N,” Geoff shouted for the millionth time, as he continued to pound on the locked door. “Y/N, we’re worried about you! Please open the door. Are you okay? Are you alive in there?”

It had been such a long time since the urge to hurt yourself was this strong, and you finally let it consume you. Now, you were filled with disgust and guilt, blood dripping down your arm. You wrapped your arm tightly in a bandage, and sat on your bed, head feeling woozy.

After Geoff yelled through the door again, you reluctantly pushed yourself off the bed and walked over to the mirror in the bathroom. You quickly redid your messy bun, wincing with pain as you raised your arm. You splashed a bit of water on your face. Once you looked like you hadn’t been crying for hours, you turned and made your way to the door.

Geoff grabbed you as soon as you opened the door and you gasp in pain. He looked at you worried. You pushed up your sleeve to reveal the blood soaked bandage on your arm. Geoff gasped a bit, “Oh, Y/N, why? Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” He gave you an extremely worried look and then directed you to the living room.

“Where’s Shawn?” you asked quietly.

“He just went to grab some food…” You could tell he was lying to you.

“He’s with her, huh? That girl from the bar we were at?” Geoff just looked at you, a sad look in his eyes.

A few well placed butterfly closures and a large bandage later, you had convinced Geoff that you were fine and didn’t need to go to the hospital. You laid back on your bed, eyes swimming with tears. It was then, glancing at your mauled arm, drunk on pain and heartache and whiskey, that you knew you needed out.

That night, after Geoff was asleep, you grabbed your duffel bag, hopped in your beat up car and left.

That was the last you saw of Toronto. You still don’t know exactly why you had left, or why you hadn’t called. You thought about it a hundred times. But eventually, you stopped thinking about him, thinking about calling him. You were heartbroken, but you knew it was for the best. You were never going to have your happily ever after with Shawn anyways. After you left, he really blew up. He released a few more albums that all hit #1, and you had to force yourself not to listen to his music.

But, music is what you know best, so you applied at a few colleges in the US and got accepted. You decided on NYU and you were off to New York City. It took you a little while to get into the hang of the city, but you ended up loving it. You made sure to stay as far in the background as you could. The last thing you needed was someone picking up on the fact that you had co-produced Shawn Mendes’ first album. You graduated at the top of your class and approached the owners of Shadow Recording. They were happy to add another partner on, and you made it very clear that you wanted to be a silent partner. They thought this was strange at first, but you love producing. You aren’t a business person. You have a say in who you take on as clients, but, for the most part, you try not to get too involved. Which is why you had no idea that Shawn is the newest client.

With a heavy sigh, you push your chair away from your desk and show the superstar quietly to the biggest recording booth. You ask if he needs any coffee and walk over to the coffee machine for a much needed caffeine jolt. You close your eyes and sigh internally when you hear footsteps approaching you. You don’t even have to turn around to know it’s Shawn. He had been eying you ever since he walked in this morning.

“Hey,” he says softly as you turn around to face him.

“Hey,” you reply, raising an eyebrow at him.

“How have you been?” he asks, reaching for an empty coffee mug and filling it to the brim.

You shake your head, stopping him right away. “No Shawn, we aren’t doing this.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but you hold your hand up, telling him to stop once more. “No Shawn, okay? We can’t do this. I am helping you with this recording and nothing else. Everything we had in the past?” you ask him, reaching up and slipping off the necklace you had worn underneath your clothes for the last 3 years, handing it to him. “It’s gone. It’s history. I am your producer, nothing more.”

With that, you turn and walk back to the seat in front of the mixing board, leaving him standing alone. You set your coffee down and begin flipping on a few switches. The room in front of you springs into view, various switches turning on various cords and instruments in the room. You glance to the other side of the room to find him still staring down at the ring in this hand, before he glances over his shoulder at you. You quickly avert your gaze across the room and catch Olivia’s eye as she sticks her head into the room. The confused look on her face is actually quite comical.

You settle back into the seat, knowing you were making the right decision. Shawn Mendes was not the boy that you had fallen in love with a little over 5 years ago. That boy is gone, and he is now a man. A man you no longer know. Hailee, she gets the man, but you got the boy.

Forever Tag List: @embracehappy @atlas-of-a-human-soul

#shawn mendes #shawn fic #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes fic #shawn fluff #shawn peter raul mendes

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bbbrats · 7 years ago

Text

Forgotten 06 {A, F}

Warnings: angst, fluff this chapter, also angst this chapter, broken bones, revelation of backgrounds, Jimin vs. Reader, Stacy vs. Reader, Jungkook vs. Taehyung, this chapter is pretty wild and includes the boys fighting each other so if that is too much for you to handle, stop reading here. Jungkook and the reader are dating now, btw.

Y/n’s POV

*30 minutes later*

Jungkook and I were seated at a booth, glaring down at our menu's.

He let out a grumble along the lines of 'Why the hell is everything in Spanish'

To which you replied with a snarky 'It is a Mexican restaurant, Pabo'.

He sent a "angry" glare your way before you both burst into fits of laughter.

Jungkook: "I hate you."

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, "You love me, dweeb."

Jungkook chuckled and sighed, "I know, loser."

"Ok I never expected Tacos to taste so damn good!", You exclaimed, rubbing your full belly similar to how a pregnant woman would rub her oncoming child.

Jungkook let out a snort, "Not to mention the Nachos that you literally ate off MY plate!"

He crossed his arms in a makeshift pout and you rolled your eyes.

"Loser", You murmured, grabbing his hand.

He sighed and squeezed your hand a bit,

"Dork".

"Y/n?"

You froze, as did Jungkook.

You both turned around, knowing the voice all too well.

Stacy.

Jungkook squeezes your hand a bit harder, showing you his frustration. Although wordless, still very apparent.

"Kook", you murmured, "Relax".

Your voice soothed him, and he let out a puff of air, only releasing his grip enough to let blood flow.

Stacy: "Y/n, Jungkook..?"

You were internally screaming, your body wanting to beat her to a pulp.

But society would frown upon that..

So you rolled your shoulders and closed the space between you and Jungkook, your left shoulder tucked into his side, thighs connecting.

He glanced out his peripheral vision, reading you like a book.

You were fuming.

And even that was an understatement.

He was just beginning to pull you away, before he saw the other boys.

Namjoon: "Yah, Stacy why'd you run off?!"

Yoongi: "Where did you.."

His words cut short as they saw you and Jungkook, practically clinging to each other.

Jin: "Y/n..? Jungkook..? What are you guys.?"

They quickly put two and two together.

You and Jungkook has started dating, no wonder he sided with you.

Taehyung: "So this is why you left us? For a fuck?"

That fucking stung.

Jungkook was silent, until he saw the tears forming in your eyes.

And then he growled.

Everyone was caught off guard as Jungkook tackled Taehyung into the dirt, throwing punch after punch to his face.

You stared far too long, Stacy had grabbed at Jungkook, and you lost it.

You shoved her before slapping her across the face.

She shrieked and you shoved her, making sure she hit the ground hard.

You wanted her to hurt.

To feel the pain she made you feel.

The pain they made you feel.

You started landing punches like Jungkook before you felt Jimin's arms lifting and throwing you off her and a few feet away.

You landed on the concrete with a loud thud, and a pained yelp leaving your throat.

Your wrist.

You whined loud enough for Jungkook to hear.

His head snapped towards you before he let Tae go and scrambled over to you.

Tears were streaming down your face by now, wrist throbbing in pain.

Jungkook reached out and you yanked your wrist away, frantically shaking your head.

Y/n: "JUNGKOOK" you sobbed, "SOMETHING'S WRONG!"

His eyes were panicked, hands frantically picking you up onto your feet, brushing away your tears.

Jungkook: "Y/n! Breathe or you'll go into shock. Breathe, In and Out." Your eyes drooped and your cries halted, "That's it babygirl, In and Out."

The members were staring out you, Jimin holding onto Stacy and Taehyung brushing off dirt and blood.

Jimin: "Y/n."

Jungkook snarled at him.

"Hyung, I'll fucking murder you if you even THINK about speaking to her. You probably broke her fucking wrist!"

Jimin shrunk away before standing in front of Stacy, "She was punching Stacy!"

Jungkook's eyes narrowed and he looked gone.

You've never seen him this angry.

"You broke her wrist because she was punching Stacy?!" He screamed.

Jungkook couldn't see past the red, the dark blood colored red.

He was pissed.

Before he could even launch himself at Jimin, you grabbed him with your good hand, hand squeezing his bicep.

His head snapped to you, eyes so bulged and angry they looked ready to burst from his skull.

You inhaled, voice still hoarse from screaming, and trembling, "Kook, please. Take me to the hospital. They've chosen. Now we should too."

That's all it took and he instantly relaxed against your grip, eyes watering from seeing you in so much pain.

He pulled you into him, careful of your wrist, and kissed the top of your head.

"Okay babygirl. Let's get out of here..", he murmured.

Jin: "Y/n! Jungkook!"

You turned around, and glanced at all of their faces one last time.

"You've chosen." You looked from them to Stacy, "And you, take care of my boys. Goodbye."

Jungkook have all of them a cold stare, not even bothering to say Goodbye.

They didn't deserve it.

He threw his jacket over your shoulders and walked you to his car, before laying you across the backseat.

The pain was getting to you.

The last thing you remembered was looking upwards toward the sky, murmuring, "They promised."

And then you passed out.

They promised.

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fangirlhaley · 7 years ago

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Broken Halos

Characters: Dean Winchester x Castiel, Sam Winchester

Summary: Some scars will last a lifetime and they’re always the worst ones to remind us of our mistakes. What could have been. What we’ve lost.

Word Count: 2,304

Enjoy.

If you REALLY want to pain yourself, here is the song that the title came from.

Seen my share of broken halos Folded wings that used to fly They've all gone wherever they go Broken halos that used to shine

Dean knew that being a hunter had its consequences. He had stayed in his fair share of shitty motel rooms. Had his fair share of fast food consumed in the Impala that made his health decline with every bite, Sam claimed. He experienced loss. He experienced pain. He experienced regret. While hunting had its consequences though, it also had its rewards. He saw the country with his brother Sam. He saved people from the monstrous beings that roamed the earth. He met Cas.

Castiel was an angel of the lord who saved Dean from the fiery pits of hell. Dean had the scar to prove it, a handprint that was etched into his shoulder. A constant reminder of the bond that the two shared. A bond that no one could ever come between, no matter how hard they tried. Cas helped on hunts occasionally and his abilities always came in handy when the boys were in situations that they had no hope in. The angel would come in, fighting off the bad guys like a cheesy action movie hero. Dean was grateful, but it was hard for the older Winchester to ever show his feelings. It always had been hard for him to show his feelings. Dean was thankful for so many things that had happened over the years, good and bad, but there were things that he wished he could forget. The day Cas left was one of those things.

It was a hunt. A simple hunt. The brothers had been tailing on some signs of a demon outbreak in Sioux Falls. It was the usual. Cattle mutilations, mysterious smells of sulfur and citizen acting out in strange and mysterious ways. Dean was confident, and Sam was too. Cas was along for the ride and Dean’s heart couldn’t be happier to have his angel by his side.

Cas stared out the window at the passing scenery as Dean drove the Impala down the desolate road. Sam drifted off to sleep against the cool window in the backseat, his arms folded into his body as if to keep himself warm. The only sounds were from the classic rock station that softly played from the Impala’s radio and the hum of the engine as Dean drove. He found his free hand resting on the seat near Cas’ and eventually the older Winchester intertwined their fingers together. It wasn’t something out of the normal. The shared hand brushes, the glances across the table in the library at the bunker, the hand holding when one of them needed a little reassuring. Though neither of them outright said it, they loved each other. Cas had made it known to Dean multiple times, Dean just had a hard time admitting his feelings. He had a hard time admitting his feelings to anyone.

“It is going to be fine, Dean.” Castiel assured him, keeping his gaze out the window but squeezing Dean’s hand gently as they drove. The angel finally looked over to him, giving him a small smile of reassurance.

“I know, we’ve done this plenty of times,” Dean sighs. “I just never know when a hunt is going to be my last. Every day it gets closer and closer to the end it feels like.”

“I wouldn’t let them hurt you. You know that.” Castiel mumbled a little and Dean let go of his hand to let him focus on the road.

And Cas was right. He wouldn’t let anything hurt Dean. He wouldn’t let anyone, or anything so much as lay a hand on Dean. He was Dean’s protector and he was expected to do his job. While this was his greatest quality, it was also his tragic flaw. The one thing that everyone has that makes them weak. Cas’ weakness was Dean and Dean’s well being and it was obvious.

The trio made it to, yet another, shitty motel that they would be staying in for the week and Dean woke Sam up from his slumber so they could get the bags from the car moved into the motel room. The room smelled of beer and smoke and Castiel made a face as he walked in behind Dean. It wasn’t much but it would do for the week. Sam slung his bag to the floor before sitting down on the bed.

“I’m starving,” He mumbled. “I’ll go get us some food.” He offered with a smile as he took the key to Baby from Dean. He lectured the younger Winchester for probably the millionth time about how priceless the car was and to treat her with care. Sam dismissed his lecturing with the wave of his hand as he left out the front door.

“I’m exhausted,” Dean let out a yawn as he sat down on the edge of the bed. The man struggled to keep his eyes open but knew he needed to at least until Sammy returned.

“You should sleep, Dean.” Cas said from his spot in the desk chair across the room. “I’ll keep watch. Sleep.” He said before turning his attention to the window. The angel moved the curtains out of the way a bit to look out into the desolate parking lot. Dean didn’t want to sleep, afraid of what might happen in his state of slumber, but at the same time he was exhausted, and a few minutes wouldn’t hurt.

Eventually, the older Winchester was cuddled up in the musty motel blankets while Castiel sat in the chair across the room to keep watch. He didn’t need to sleep but watching Dean sleep was one of his favorite things to do. Castiel loved the way his chest slowly and delicately rose and fell with each breath he took. His lips slightly parted and his emerald green eyes closed to the light of the world. Sometimes Dean would let out a soft snore and other times he would sleep silently and peacefully. Either way, Cas loved to watch him. So that’s what he did as he waited for Sam to arrive with food for Dean.

It was around 11:30 when the knock on the door came and Dean was still fast asleep. Castiel stood, assuming the knock was Sam who needed help with the take out that he brought from a restaurant down the street. Instead of being greeted though by the younger Winchester, Castiel’s blue eyes were met with coal black ones that stood at the door and eyed the hunter who was asleep in the bed in the room. By instinct at this point, Castiel pulled out his blade from the tan trench coat that he adorned, and he took a swing at the demon.

When the lamp sitting by the door crashed to the motel carpet and shattered, Dean was pulled out of his sleep and he sat up in bed. The room was a mess and he wondered why he hadn’t woken up sooner. His eyes drifted to the curtain that were shredded and the broken chair that was laying in the corner by the air conditioner. Cas’ chair. Cas. Where was Cas? Dean frantically kicked the blankets from his body, calling out for the angel and starting to make his rounds around the room. The hunter found Castiel by the window, laying in the rubble of the broken chairs and weak like an injured animal that had gone off to hide to pass away in peace. Dean rushed to his side quickly, kneeling beside the angel and lifting his head up gently. His blue eyes were closed, and Dean felt some tears start to form in his own green eyes.

“Cas?” He managed to choke out, slapping his cheek gently to wake him up. “Cas, please.” Dean practically begged. He prayed, and he prayed hard. To who, he didn’t know. Whoever would listen and bring back his angel. Castiel coughed, his eyes opening partially, and Dean quickly repositioned the man in his arms. “Cas. Cas hey.” He said, forcing a smile onto his worrisome face. “Cas stay with me okay? It’s going to be okay.” Dean said and picked up the angel, laying him down on the bed that Dean had once occupied himself. Castiel was weak and it was obvious, but Dean didn’t want to admit it. He knew that the angel would heal himself. Everything would be fine. Everything would go back to normal.

Right?

“Angel….angel blade….,” Castiel coughed out and Dean frowned even deeper.

“What?” He asked and shook his head in protest. “Cas, you’re going to be fine, okay? Remember what you told me in the car? Everything is going to be okay. It always is okay.”

But Dean knew that it wasn’t okay. Not this time. Not from an angel blade wound. Cas’ complexion was slowly going from vibrant and lively to cold and empty. Dean didn’t want to admit that he would see it, but he could. Where was Sam? He would know what to do. Dean didn’t. Dean never knew what to do. Sure, he read the lore books and he researched just as much as Sam but, Sam always seemed to know more. Dean chalked it up to the college education and to him that was nothing to compete with. He didn’t know what to do so he did all he could. All he could do was hold Castiel and try to comfort him.

“Cas, it’s going to be okay.” He mumbled and tried his best to not cry in front of the angel that was cradled in his arms.

“Dean, no…” Cas mumbled and tried to push the man away. Dean didn’t listen though and he kept the withering angel held close to his body for comfort.

“Just relax. Sammy will be here soon, he’ll know what to do.” Dean frowned and pushed some of Castiel’s hair away from his forehead. “it’s going to be okay.”

“Dean, No.” Castiel repeated and tried to push himself away from the hunter’s body and Dean was confused.

“Dammit, Cas! Just let me help you!” Dean choked out, afraid of what was to come. “Why do you always have to be like this!” He yelled out of fear and anger. Castiel only continued his attempts at pushing his body away from Dean’s grasp.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t hurt you, Dean.” Cas frowned and pushed his hand hard against Dean’s chest. The hunter’s grip on the angel though was tight and he swore that Cas wouldn’t leave his presence. He swore that he would keep him close to his body and comfort him in his time of need.

“Cas, you’re the one that’s hurt.” Dean pointed out but he was oblivious to what the angel was saying. “You’re not hurting me.”

“I’m not hurting you yet, Dean. But I will. I swear I will. Just let go…” He mumbled out and his blue eyes were starting to feel heavy. “Dean let go…” He demanded, pushing with all of his strength to get the hunter away from him but it was too late. Dean felt a hot burning on his skin and yelped in pain as a bright and blinding light filled the room.

Looking down at Castiel in his arms caused Dean to break down. If only he hadn’t fallen asleep. He would have been able to fight off whatever broke in and was stronger than his angel was. Cas was gone. It was obvious as his body had gone weak in Dean’s arms. He fought back his tears, looking down at the angel as he laid him on the frumpy bed sheets.

Dean’s skin burned hot and it pained him to even move a bit. He stood up, making his way to the bathroom to look in the mirror to find out where his pain was coming from. He tried to get the image of Cas slipping away in his arms out of his mind but the image kept revisiting himself. Dean turned the light on in the dingy bathroom, starring in horror at his reflection in the mirror. As if the image of Cas wasn’t enough to haunt him every day, his skin was blistered and red in the shape of feathered wings. Cas’ wings. The rest of the shadow that didn’t scar Dean was left on the headboard of the bed as well as the blankets and the wall next to the bed. Dean frantically rubbed the marks, trying to get them to leave his skin. He didn’t want the reminder. The reminder that he had failed yet again. He didn’t have a choice though and suddenly he realized that was why Castiel was trying to push him away. He was stained more than what he already was. Marked by the death of someone he loved unconditionally. Someone he would never be able to bring back or replace. He felt the tears again starting to flow down his face, choking on his own tears as he continued to rub at the marks left on his arms and his chest. Dean slid down the wall that sat perpendicular to the mirror, pulling his knees to his chest and crying into them.

He thought about the past. He thought about the forgotten words. He thought about the missed chances. He thought about how demons and other monsters must laugh at his expense, being forced to walk the Earth with a daily reminder of his lost love.

But most of all, he thought about how he never told Cas that he loved him.

Angels come down from the heavens Just to help us on our way Come to teach us, then they leave us And they find some other soul to save

#dean x castiel #dean winchester #castiel #deancas #dean x cas #deancasfic #deancas fic #dean and castiel #dean winchester fic #castiel fic #supernatural #spn #spn fic #supernatural fic #destiel #destiel fic

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ayeeitsjustfanfiction · 8 years ago

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COLLATERAL

PAIRING: DEAN x READER(Y/N) WARNINGS: Switching back & forth between present time & flashbacks, slight angst(maybe),character deaths(maybe) we’ll see, I’m currently still writing more so I’ll be posting it by bits.

FLASHBACK:

(Watching her get pelted with snowballs was definitely the highlight of the day. Y/N decided to give her brain and eyes a break from helping us with the research on a case we were working on. 30 minutes had passed and I started to worry a little; so I told Sam that I was going to look for her. He just nodded his head and said “okay” without looking up from the computer. I put on my coat and walked out of the motel into the crisp cool air. I looked around for her and seen that she started to build a snowman. I decided to help her with it and we ended up building an entire snowman family. An hour after that we noticed Sam standing a few feet from us with his arms crossed over his chest with a smirk on his face and a snowball in his hand a mischievous look across his face . Lightly throwing it up in the air and catching it as if it were a baseball. Before we could defend ourselves he threw the snowball at Y/N and I threw my head back and laughed holding my stomach. The look of disbelief clear across her face. It was over from there, we broke out into a snowball fight; it ended up being Sam and I against her..) “what are you doing” I heard a deep voice interrupting my thoughts; I instinctively shut the book and my eyes shot up to see who it was. “nothing” I lied; he chuckled a little and started to walk towards the bed. “you know you’re not a very good liar” he stated as he placed his hands on the edge of the bed and leaned down. “whatever” I laughed a little and stared into his deep green eyes. He leaned in a little closer and planted a soft kiss on my lips; “ahem” we heard someone clearing their throat. We immediately stopped the kiss and looked in the direction the sound came from. We seen Sam leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets. “before it gets too heated in here” he started as Dean stood up straight and looked at his brother, eyebrows slightly furrowed. “I was wondering if y’all wanted me to pick up anything from the store” I really hadn’t noticed that we were running low on anything; Dean and I looked at each other and he shrugged his shoulders as I slowly nodded my head no. “I don’t think so, maybe more beer” I questioned; as he laughed a little. “all right alcoholic” he responded and I stuck my tongue out and he turned on his heel as he started his walk down the hall. Dean rolled his eyes as he noticed that Sam hadn’t closed the door, so he walked towards it and closed it.

He turned back around slowly to face me with a devilish smile on his face while he removed his shirt and made his way back to the bed as I covered my face with my hands. “come on now, don’t do that I wanna see your beautiful face” he said as he climbed into the bed and crawled on top of me while grabbing my wrists softly and pinning them above my head. I immediately looked into his sparkling eyes full of passion; a smile played on the corner of my lips and I leaned up a little as he leaned down and planted a kiss; soft at first and it quickly intensified as the seconds passed. I felt his free hand trail down - “Y/N” I heard him say snapping me out of a daze I shook my head blinking my eyes quickly realizing I was still in my room Dean standing in front of me trying to get my attention. “are you okay” he asked as I looked down; I was sitting on my bed his journal closed my hand resting on it. “huh, oh yeah I’m good” I quickly said coming back to reality; he stared at me for a second. “where’s sam” I asked attempting to change the subject; “he went on a supply run, don’t you remember” he asked genuinely concerned this time. “seriously y/n where’s your head at today” he asked crossing his arm over his broad chest. I just shrugged my shoulders, these daydreams happen a lot during the day taking me away from reality. “I’m okay dean, really” I said trying to get him to drop the subject. He steadied his gaze on me to see if I was really okay; he dropped the subject I breathed a sigh of relief. “can I have my journal back” he asked extending his right arm waiting to retrieve it. He kept a journal just like his dad did; he wrote about new creatures and ways to kill them. Plus other entries that doesn’t apply to killing monsters. “yeah, I was just reading up on some stuff” I responded handing him the dark brown leather bound book back with a light thud as it hit his palm. “thanks” he replied holding the book by his side and started his walk out of my room but stopped half way turning around. Shaking a finger in the air remembering something; “Sam and I are going to the bar tonight, you in” he asked looking at me, I looked at him then towards the dresser. “nah, I think I’m just gonna stay here” I said; laying back down on my bed. “you sure” he asked, I only said no because I didn’t want to see him flirting with some bimbo. “yeah” he shrugged his shoulders “all right” he said and left my room without another word.

++++++

PRESENT TIME:

I’ve known the winchesters for a good year and a half; they saved my sister from a vengeful spirit. I was very thankful that they came when they did; because I could’ve lost the only family that I had left. After finding about what goes bump in the night I decided to join them on the road. At first they refused, but I wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Even my sister thought I was crazy enough to start hunting; but I told her that I would be okay; besides there wasn’t anything back home for me. “hey, you okay back there” dean asked from the drivers seat looking at me through the rearview mirror breaking me from my thoughts. “huh..oh yeah” I replied back while unlocking my phone to find a game to play and answer texts that I’ve received. His eyebrows lifted for a second then returned back to normal; turning the radio back up blasting “AC DC Back in Black”. The 3 of us were back on the road again heading back to the bunker. 2 hours later we finally arrived at our destination; I grabbed my duffel bag from the backseat and headed towards my room. I didn’t wait for the boys to get out of the car. I dropped my bag upon entering my room; immediately shutting the door behind me. I let out a sigh running my fingers through my hair; I stripped out of my clothes as I headed towards the bathroom and started the shower.

20 minutes after a much needed shower I stepped out into the cool air of the bathroom instantly raising goosebumps on my skin. I wrapped a towel around myself and walked back to my room. “oh my god” shock clear in my voice; I held onto my towel tighter. “what the hell are you doing here” I asked walking towards my dresser. “sorry, we just wanted to make sure you were okay” he said not moving from where he was; which was sitting on the edge of my bed watching me as I grabbed some clothes out. “you got out of the car so fast without saying anything” he continued. “well I’m fine Sam; but uh can I get a little privacy please” I asked as he stood up rubbing his palms on his jeans and nodded his head. I watched as he walked out of my room closing the door behind him; I let out a sigh of relief and got dressed.

I walked out of my room and headed towards the kitchen; the smell of something being fried floating through the halls. I turned the corner and seen Dean cooking burgers and fries. I felt my stomach grumble and my mouth water instantly; “hey” I said softly making Dean turn his head back looking over his shoulder; a smile appearing at the corner of his lips. “hope you’re hungry” he said pulling out the last of the fries and placed them on a plate. “very” I replied walking towards the fridge opening it and grabbed a beer. “want one” I asked before shutting the fridge; “I’m good” he said lifting his drink off the counter near the stove. I nodded my head and shut the fridge. “SAMMY” dean shouted from the kitchen making me jump a little he chuckled at that. Apparently sam was in the library looking for any new cases; I swear he can never put a book down or shut that laptop of his. “anything new” I asked as sam entered the kitchen placing his phone in his pocket; “nope” he shook his head softly popping the “p”. I helped Dean get the table ready for all of us to make our burgers, “do we have ranch” I asked looking at Dean as I grabbed a plate and a few fries “there should be some in the fridge” he replied placing the top bun on his burger and took a bite let out a low moan as he chewed. I laughed a little and Sam just shook his head; I continued to arrange my burger and sat next to Sam.

#first real story #supernatural #dean x reader #winchester #fanfiction #dean x y/n #collateral #flashback #angst #y/n

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jackfollmanwriter-blog · 6 years ago

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The Son

October 25, 2009

The smell of Danielle’s Child perfume still intoxicated my nose a good three minutes after she had climbed out of the back of our car with her arm around Jon like he was an injured football player she was helping off the field.

“Did you think he was going to get that drunk?” I asked my husband Richie from the passenger seat while he squinted out at the near darkness of the forested road and mouthed the words to the pop song on the radio.

“Uh, yeah, I mean, he basically won the lottery. Do you know how many people write and try to sell screenplays compared to how many actually sell them?” Richie explained with an annoyed tone.

“I know you did.”

I instantly regretted my reply, knowing it came off as cold and sarcastic.

“Thanks,” Richie answered back so quietly I could barely hear it over the radio.

“You seem bothered?” I confronted the issue.

Richie squinted and leaned a little closer to the windshield.

“Sorry, there’s just like ten million different little roads up here and all the names are almost exactly the same. I can’t remember if we turn left on Camino del Real or Camindo del Espernza. Plus, I’m not used to driving in the dark. I hate the god damn hills.”

“Oh okay.”

I turned my attention away from Richie and towards the impulses firing in my brain which told me I could still smell Danielle’s perfume more than I probably should have been able to. I craned my neck around to the backseat and saw her violet scarf resting in the backseat.

“Shit. Danielle left her scarf in the car.”

“Eh, we’ll give it back to her the next time we see her.”

“Oh, come on, you know how that happens. We see her six months from now, forget to bring it and then say the same thing again. She wouldn’t shut up about it, I think she really likes it. Let’s just turn around and drop it back off. We can pull up navigation anyways, because it seems like we’re lost.”

Richie didn’t respond with words, just whipped a U-Turn in the middle of an intersection and headed back the way from which we came, higher up into the hills of Hollywood.

It took less than five minutes before we were back in front of Danielle and Jon’s rustic, yet modern home which looked like it was straight out of a commercial for the luxury car that rested out front on the street.

“I’ll just run and knock,” I announced to Richie and jumped out of the car with Danielle’s sweet-smelling scarf in my clutches.

I ran my hand up and down the clean, immaculate wood of their front door after ringing the bell. I waited for about a minute, fighting of the chill of a Fall LA night in the hills, before I went to ring again and produced the modern, digital tone which sounded like the soft beep of an iPhone as opposed to that of a doorbell.

“Hey,” Richie’s voice yelled out from the car and made me jump up into the air.

I slowly turned around and glared at Richie from across the driveway.

“Just go around the back and put it underneath the deck,” Richie announced.

I followed Richie’s directions and walked around to the side of the house until I was in Danielle and Jon’s little cubby hole of a backyard. A ten-yard backyard lined with thick trees which just barely obscured the houses around them, the yard rested in front of a little patio that was covered by the upper deck of the house.

I tried to keep myself from giving into my own curiosity by not looking into the sliding-glass door which fed out of their downstairs den and out onto the patio, but couldn’t. I shot a quick look through the glass when I set the scarf down on a little wooden table.

Through the glass, I could see a dimly-lit room with a couch and a couple chairs and a small TV. I thought I had been down there before for a party and thought it was a completely underutilized room which didn’t match with the rest of their well-designed home. I remembered thinking it reminded me of the weird, retro basement in That 70s Show, but, what did I know? Maybe that was the cool new thing now?

I was scanning the room to see if it had changed and getting ready to walk away when I saw something move. I jumped and looked away. Shit. It was probably Danielle or Jon catching me staring into their home at one in the morning.

I left the scarf on the table and started to hustle away, but shot one last look into the room over my shoulder, figuring I should see what I actually laid eyes on, since I was already caught.

What I caught was sight of a young boy. Probably about 10 years old, he had a head of shaggy, sandy blonde hair which hung over his pale, cherubic face. He wore a light navy blue t-shirt with some sports team logo I didn’t recognize printed on it and white briefs, known on the elementary schoolyard as “tighty whiteys.” I couldn’t tell exactly what he was doing, but he was standing behind the back of the couch with his head hanging down and concentrating on something which was behind the suede piece of furniture.

I took in the sight of the young boy for a few more moments to try and figure out what he was doing, but cut it short when I saw him lift his shaggy head up and shoot a look out the glass door. I jumped off the patio and dove into the ragged bushes which lined the walkway next to the house.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I whispered to myself while I dusted the leaves off of my arms and dashed up the walkway on the side of the house until I was out front, running towards Richie’s Impala in my heels.

“Why the hell are you running?” Richie asked when I jumped into the car.

“Well that was fucking weird,” I said in between ragged breaths. “Go.”

“You didn’t kill my friends, did you?” Richie asked while he commanded the car down the hill.

“There was a kid in their house.”

“What?” Richie instantly shot back.

“When I was down on the patio, I looked in the window, into that den room down there and I saw a boy. Looked like he was probably around ten years old.”

“A boy?”

“A ten-year-old boy with Shaggy Scooby Doo hair doing something weird down there behind the couch.”

“Shit.”

“I know they don’t have a kid, but just to confirm, they don’t, right?” I asked just to be safe.

“No,” Richie confirmed flatly.

“Maybe they had someone babysit their dog or cat or something?” I reasoned.

“They definitely don’t have a dog or cat,” Richie shot back. “Jon is allergic.”

“Maybe just watch their house while they are gone? A neighbor kid?” I kept searching for answers.

“We were only gone for like three hours, but maybe?” Richie answered.

“It was weird they didn’t answer the door though. Not even the kid.”

Richie had finally successfully led us out of the hills and back to civilization. The sound of a honking car horn announced our arrival to Hollywood Boulevard.

“Should we call them, or call the cops?” I asked.

“No, I’m sure it’s nothing.”

I was bothered by Richie bringing his customary never bothered, never care, state of mind to the situation.

“I’ll text Jon in the morning,” Richie went on.

“Okay,” I quietly agreed, it wasn’t worth it to fight it right now.

My eyes fluttered open in the blue light of the night in our bedroom. Shit. It took me an extra hour just to initially fall asleep since my brain and bladder were still working overtime from the five glasses of the night before, and now, just 85 minutes into my slumber, I was up, staring at the clock on my cable box which announced the time as 3:34 a.m.

That last of the wine still processing, I got up to relieve myself, but stopped as soon as I stood up next to the bed. Something was off about the room. A childish sense of fear had started to seep into my sobering mind.

Someone was in our apartment.

I had no official clue as to why my brain gave me that feeling. There were no footsteps down the hallway, no crashes or clangs from the kitchen or the sound of the front door slamming, but it did and kept me still there, naked in the night, listening for any clue over the sound of Richie softly snoring. Lucky bastard. There was nothing I wanted more than to be fast asleep at that moment, not imagining the twisted grin of some psychopath rummaging through our silverware drawer, trying to pick out the perfect steak knife to disembowel us with.

I dropped back down to the bed to try and wake Richie, have him ease my fears. I was stretching out across our sea of blankets when the jolt of a buzz from over on the floor shocked me. I let out a spastic scream and clutched my chest with my eyes wide and scanning until they locked onto the source of the buzz - Richie’s iPhone, laying screen side down on the floor next to his jeans.

I turned my attention away from Richie’s snoring and focused in on whoever the fuck was texting my husband at 3:30 a.m. That was a lot scarier than any kind of psycho killer or monster which may have been lurking in the dark.

I slowly moved off the foot of the bed, making sure as to not stir Richie and crawled on the hardwood floor on my hands and knees over to his cell phone on the floor.

Richie’s phone greeted me with another buzz and flash.

In one swift motion, I scooped up Richie’s phone and caught it before the screen went to black. I was initially relieved when I saw his two fresh text messages were from Jon.

I checked both texts.

The first just read “Help.” The second was longer “We need to talk.”

I at first had no thoughts about the texts. I put the phone back where it was and went back to bed, completely forgetting about the presence I thought I felt earlier. Even if the texts came in smack dab in the middle of the night, they were from one of Richie’s best friends and were probably about something really stupid like fantasy football bullshit.

However, those texts would start to stir my mind, the longer it took me to fall back asleep.

Why was Jon texting him at 3:30 in the morning? Why did Jon send a text that just read “Help?” Did it have something to do with the boy I saw in the house?

It was time to wake up Richie.

Richie reacted exactly how I expected he would getting rushed up in the middle of the night. I gave him a few moments to power up before I jumped into him.

“Jon keeps texting you,” I whispered to Richie once the sleep was wiped from his eyes.

“Who cares?” Richie shot back, clearly groggy and annoyed.

“You should. One of your best friends is texting you for help in the middle of the night, and you don’t care?”

Richie rolled away from me and grunted, signalling that he was done with our conversation.

“I’m sure it was probably a mistake or something. Or something that can wait a few hours. He was probably still drunk and wanted to talk about the Lakers or something. Trust me. I know him. He’s my friend.”

Not a shock to me, but it turned out Jon’s texts were not a mistake and he did not just want to talk about the “Lakers” or something. I found this out when I was stirred from my half-sleep by some texts of my own from my friend Ali whose husband was friends with Jon through work.

Oh my God. Have you heard about Richie’s friend Jon? I’m so sorry.

I texted back as fast as humanly possible.

What are you talking about?

I got a phone call from Ali in about 1.5 seconds.

“Hello.”

I heard sobs before I heard words on Ali’s line.

“What’s wrong?” I asked frantically while I heard Richie rustle in the bed next to me.

Ali started in slowly, having a hard time getting any words out.

“Jon...killed himself...last night?”

“What?”

“You guys know him and his wife a lot better than I do, but a friend of mine who lives next to him told me, so I thought I would let you know. That’s all.”

Ali hung up before I could say any more.

I turned over to Richie with tears already running down my cheek and my mouth wide.

“Jon killed himself last night,” I could barely get the words out to Richie before completely breaking down.

The half pot of coffee Richie and I downed in about five minutes really did not help our nerves. We paced our dining room just before 8 a.m. trying to figure out what we should do. I wanted to talk to Danielle and the police about the boy I saw in their house, but Richie didn’t like that.

“You probably just saw something that wasn’t there. You know how you get wine drunk?” Richie insisted for about the third time that morning.

“Someone needs to say something, Richie. A guy who just sold his first screenplay for three hundred thousand dollars kills himself the next night and I see a creepy ass kid in his house while he won’t answer the door, and you don’t think I should tell his wife, or the cops?”

“I just think if something happened to you like that and Danielle called me up, talking some crazy shit about little kids in our house I would be fucking pissed and weirded out.”

“But I saw it Richie. I fucking saw it. This isn’t a made up ghost story or something. What if that kid did something to Jon and I saw him, and we said nothing.”

“Okay. I’ll call the cops about it. Let them know so they can look into it, but I’m not going to involve Danielle in that yet. If it is something, the cops can talk to her about it and they can talk to you about what you saw.”

October 29, 2009

The next few days were surreal. Richie talked to the cops and to Danielle a few times. He went to their house a few times to talk with Danielle and the cops. A cop came to our apartment and interviewed me about what I saw.

Things hit peak discomfort when we had to go to Jon’s funeral. I had never been to a funeral for someone who wasn’t a grandparent of mine, let alone someone who killed themselves at what appeared to be the zenith of their life and career and watch their parents (and even grandparents) cry at their graveside.

I gave Richie his space. He did what he needed to do. The cops and Danielle knew about what I saw and I can only imagine how bad he felt. I cried for weeks when my friend Lindsey just moved to San Francisco, so I can’t even begin to think how bad it would hurt to have a friend die.

Richie seemed to be doing okay though and I was glad. Things seemed to get more and more normal every day. Richie went back to work. We stopped talking to the cops and we stopped going to funeral and memorial services.

November 1, 2009

The cool nights which finally come to LA in October are my favorite. After months of sleeping with every window open to try and stave off the heat without air conditioning, I relish those first few nights when it feels like Fall might really be in Southern California and you can sleep without the distant sounds of sirens and car horns leaking through the open windows. It’s about as peaceful as it gets in Hollywood for me.

That peace would slowly start to be eroded that Fall after Jon died.

The first time I noticed something amiss about our apartment was about a week after Jon’s death. I woke at daybreak having to pee after a night of chugging water, trying to recover as fast as possible from a cold.

I sat there on the toilet, half asleep and staring at the towel rack when I heard the unmistakable sound of the front door of our apartment closing. I quickly relieved my mind by assuming Richie had jumped out of bed and gone somewhere or went to take out the trash.

That relief up and walked away as soon as I got up, walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom and saw Richie fast asleep on the bed, no sign that he had gotten up anytime soon. Still in a daze of half sleep, I climbed into bed next to Richie and stared at the wall across the room, trying to convince myself I hadn’t heard that front door close.

“Richie,” I eventually had to speak.

“Ugh, hum,” Richie groaned next to me.

“Did you just go out the front door a minute ago?”

“No. You just woke me up.”

I no longer loved the cool chill of the middle of the Fall night. It now helped my blood run cold as I heard footsteps walk away from our building outside of our bedroom window.

November 9, 2009

I was able to slightly shake off the sound of the apartment door closing in the middle of the night. Richie reminded me of a time a few years back when I swore I could hear a radio on inside our old apartment, but it turned out just to be my brain, which was still sobering from a few glasses of wine, playing tricks on me. He reminded me, I had a little too much to drink that night and that our old building regularly produced the noises of a haunted house since it hadn’t truly been renovated since it was built in the 20s.

Richie’s assurances had helped put those fears towards the back of my head, but it couldn’t complete erase them. I hadn’t felt completely safe in our apartment since, and I did everything I could to never be there alone.

Those fears were on a break on a random Wednesday when I had to run back home from work during my lunch break to pick up my box of business cards for a job fair. Going to the apartment in the middle of an 87-degree day with the sun shining bright didn’t stoke my fears too much.

That Indian Summer sun and heat did little to calm my nerves when I fumbled in my purse for my keys outside of my front door and heard soft murmurs coming from the inside of my apartment. Nearly frozen in fright, I stood there for a few moments with my ear stuck towards the door listening to muttering and trying to make out what was being said.

The voice was clearly male, but I couldn’t make out a single word the man was saying until I heard the voice come closer and realized the man was speaking in Spanish.

“Lo que la cogida.”

I didn’t know exactly what the phrase meant, but I could tell by the tone I heard through the door, that it was said in confusion and frustration. I quickly realized I should have been running away and not running Google translate in my head when I heard the door handle, which was just inches away from my head, begin to rattle.

I screamed and recoiled, hoping someone else was home on my floor and heard me, because it was too late for me to get away from whoever was in our apartment if he really wanted to do something sinister to me.

The terrified face of our maintenance guy Julio popped out of our now open front door. We screamed in unison.

I jumped into Julio before he could get a word out.

“What the fuck Julio?”

“No, no, no,no,” Julio pleaded before I could tear into him further. “Please, please, please, listen.”

I gave Julio a few moments. He had been our maintenance guy for years and the only good one I had ever had in my entire life. I would hear him out for at least a minute. Maybe there was a leak or something in our apartment he had to go in and fix ASAP without letting us know.

“I only went in because I saw someone I had never seen before climbing through the window of your apartment. A boy. He was crawling through the window in your bedroom. I came in to see what was going on, but he was not in here.”

I couldn’t breathe and neither could Julio. His face glistened with sweat, his chest heaved and he hadn’t blinked since I started talking to him. Either he was giving an Academy Award-worthy performance, or the 40-year-old, testosterone-healthy, man who was standing before me was truly scared by something incredibly eerie going on in my apartment.

“I don’t know. Maybe it was a mistake? Maybe it was somebody else’s apartment. I am really sorry,” Julio went on, now looking embarrassed.

“No, no,” I stopped him. “Did you check the closets and stuff?”

Julio finally took a breath and blinked, probably realizing I wasn’t going to get him in trouble.

“No,” Julio said and shook his head profusely.

“Can you help me do that?”

Julio obliged and bravely checked each closet and the space beneath the bed the way my mom would before bedtime when I was a child. We found nothing, but that only turned down the heat on my fears just a touch. I was still utterly unnerved, and unlike Julio, I didn’t get to leave the place and go home and sleep somewhere else. I was stuck in my art deco apartment with the image of that boy from Jon and Danielle’s house crawling through our window.

With that dark image playing on repeat in my head, I walked over to the large window in our bedroom and slammed it shut.

November 19, 2009

It’s sad, but I had almost completely forgotten about Jon’s passing within a few weeks, until I was at a Starbucks across town, picking up a coffee in the 20 minutes I had to kill before a meeting.

The barista behind the counter, working on my iced, decaf Americano looked strikingly familiar. It took a few minutes to put my finger on it, but I eventually identified him as the cop who came to our apartment to question me about what I saw at Jon and Danielle’s house that night.

My face blushed, my entire body swelled with nervous heat. The two of us made eye contact and the guy looked away, back to the bucket of ice he was scooping from behind the thin-rimmed glasses he was not wearing when he sat in my apartment taking notes about what I told him.

The barista/cop kept his eyes down when he walked my drink over to the crowded counter and set it down without an announcement before he slipped out of the barista station and disappeared through a door.

I wasn’t sure what to do. Maybe the guy had lost his job as a cop in the past couple of weeks and quickly transitioned into being a barista? Maybe it was a part time job and he was embarrassed? Maybe he just looked exactly like that cop.

I left the Starbucks with my overpriced, under-caffeinated coffee and tried to shake the interaction off.

I probably would have been able to get over the incident had the night not grown strange once I got home. Richie left for his weekly workout class about five minutes after I got home and before I could tell him about seeing the cop at the Starbucks.

I considered telling Richie to take a night off because an October storm was rolling outside with stiff gusts of winds, and because the power had already flickered off once in the night, but I didn’t want to risk a fight, so I tucked myself onto the couch and prayed the power would stay connected for the 90-minute period of Richie’s class. The awful E! shows I watched did little to clear my mind though, I ended up sitting there for about 30 minutes, twisting and turning both internally and externally, listening to the wind pound the thin windows behind me and watching the lights flicker.

The tone and vibration of my phone about 45 minutes into the lonely night was sweet relief. I slapped the phone up off the coffee table and it immediately felt alien in my grasp. I went to unlock the screen, but my passcode wouldn’t work. I tried it three times, before I gave the back of the phone a once over, saw the distinctive long, white scratch on the back and realized it was Richie’s phone. Identical on the outside other for that long scratch, Richie and I were constantly swapping phones on accident and it must have happened again.

It took about 10 tries, but I was eventually able to crack the combination to Richie’s password (sadly a combination of his high school football and basketball numbers) and dropped the phone when I saw who the text he received was from...Jon.

Where are you…

I checked the number to see if maybe there was another “Jon” in Richie’s phone, but nope, it was the same, 858, San Diego area code Jon always had. So either, it was one of the most massive coincidences I had ever encountered, or Richie was getting a text asking where he was from his friend we watch get buried in the ground less than a month before.

I didn’t have time to ask myself anymore questions. A new text from Jon came through and the power flickered at the same time.

I can’t find him

The lights flickered again and full panic mode kicked in. I went to call my phone from Richie’s phone to see if I could reach Richie, but paused when a hard gust of wind hit the window behind my head. Another text rumbled in my hand and the power finally officially took a bow.

Lit by just the blue light of the screen of Richie’s phone, I read the next text with my nails in my mouth and my legs shaking.

Have you seen him?

The sound of footsteps approaching the door to our apartment drew me away from the screen for a moment. I slowly rose to my feet while I heard the heavy steps stomp up to the door and stop.

I made a run across the living room to the kitchen, thoughts of the sharp knives which rested on top of our refrigerator seeming like a better immediate option than calling the cops, but I didn’t make it before the front door started to unlock. I stopped myself in the doorway between the living room and kitchen and watched the door swiftly open and reveal a sweaty Richie standing there out of breath in a cut-off tank top.

“Oh my God,” I blurted out with the last breaths left in my lungs.

“What the hell is going on?” Richie asked before stepping through the door. “Is the power off?”

I took a few slow steps back towards the kitchen while I watched Richie walk in as if nothing was off. I wanted to confront him about the texts from Jon’s number, but actually thought better of it. Maybe it would be better to just do that investigating on my own? Especially since it seemed Richie may not have realized we swapped phones yet.

Richie met me in the middle of the room and embraced me with a sweaty hug I reluctantly accepted, not wanting to tip him off to any worry on my end.

“I’m going to jump in the shower,” the little phrase coming out of Richie’s mouth right after we broke off our hug was music to my ears.

I went right for the cell phone as soon as I heard the bathroom door close behind Richie and heard the shower fire up.

I wasted no time in getting the conversation going, wrote back:

Where are you?

Thankfully the response came almost instantly.

Home. But have you seen him? I think he has been going to your place recently. I’m worried.

The last two sentences of the text were enough to push me over the edge of leaving my apartment. I wasn’t waiting around for whoever “he” was to show up, especially since it had whoever “Jon” was worried.

Can we talk about it at your place?

I was in a dilemma. I was pretty sure “Jon” was actually Danielle, but knew I would give away I really wasn’t Richie if I asked too many specific questions. Richie had been in the shower for a few minutes now, I probably had less than two minutes to hit the road at this point if I wanted to have a head start on Richie when he got out of the shower and realized the situation.

A text buzzed back.

Please. ASAP.

I wanted to pat myself on the back when I thought of what I could ask to sideways confirm who I was talking to.

Wind is crazy, roads might be closed. What’s the best way to take right now?

I started to sweat. I knew the shower was going to cut out any second and Richie was going to walk out of the bathroom and I knew every second it took “Jon” to respond raised the likelihood of the person on the other line being wary of my question.

Alas, a buzz rang out.

Take Laurel Canyon. It’s fine.

That was the last hint I needed. Danielle and Jon’s house was just a couple streets off of Laurel Canyon Boulevard. There was no way these texts weren’t coming from Danielle.

I ran out of the apartment and down to my car in the garage, hearing the shower shut off just as I stepped out the door.

The drive to Danielle and Jon’s house only took about 20 minutes, but it felt like it took an hour since I was looking in my rear-view mirror the entire time, looking for Richie’s black Charger and checking his, and my phone, at every red light, waiting for something to go haywire. Neither of these things happened though, and soon I was parked in front of Danielle and Jon’s quaint, little dream house in the hills, suddenly wondering if I had the guts to go up at knock on the door.

I knew I had to make a move though. My time was likely running thin and as hard as confrontation was, it needed to be made at this point, living with all of the secrets that were clearly circling around me was much scarier than looking Danielle in her face and asking her what was going on.

With all of this forced bravery boiling in my head, I stepped out of the car and hustled up to the front door of Jon and Danielle’s house.

I held my breath when I reached the door and went to knock, but quickly had to stop myself. The door was already open a crack.

I gave a quick knock on the already-open door and then pushed it all the way open.

The inside of the house was clean, still and at least had some lighting, good to see the power wasn’t out up in the hills.

“Hello?” I called out into the foyer before I walked in the direction of the sunken living room I knew was just to the left of the kitchen in front of me.

I received no answer, but I quickly saw something in the kitchen which distracted me - a lone, yellow legal pad resting on the counter, filled with women’s handwriting.

I had to investigate.

The note read:

Richie -

Please know this was not your fault. It’s the world’s. I couldn’t live with the silent judgement anymore and knowing I would never get to live the life I wanted to live unless I did something awful I just couldn’t make myself do. This was the easiest way out. I hope everyone will understand.

Danielle.

I somehow imagined what was hanging there in the living room before I even looked to the left and saw it. I looked over and saw Danielle dangling from a thick rope hung from a ceiling beam, swaying over a glass table in the living room.

I saw no benefit in closer examining the scene, but I couldn’t help but be drawn in by another note I saw, this one resting right next to Danielle’s swaying toes.

I made my way over and took a look.

A closer glance revealed the paper was an envelope with my name written on it. I gave the room one quick, 360-degree scan before I bent down and picked it up.

I opened up the envelope and found another hand-written letter, written in the same handwriting as the one that was on the counter.

Mary -

I’m sure you have a million questions if you are reading this and I’m sorry I can’t be there to answer any of them for you, so I will do my best to answer as many as I can here.

This is probably going to be shocking, but Richie and I were together for years before the two of you met. We dated all through college and a couple years after, actually up until right when the two of you started dating. Richie broke my heart when he left me for you, but I understood, he wanted to try something different. The problem was, a few months later, I found out I was pregnant and about a year in, Richie realized he didn’t want me completely out of his life, but he also didn’t want to end what he had with you since the two of you were engaged. So we created a lie, we got my boyfriend, and now husband, Jon, to pretend as if he and Richie were old friends so we could still see each other, at least in a group.

When Jon died, it created a perfect opening for Richie and I to reconnect more than we had before and we slipped back into what we were. I am so, so sorry. It is one of the reasons I had to do this.

I had to interrupt my reading with my own internal question about the brief mention of being pregnant Danielle had yet to address again. What the hell was that about?

I jumped back into the letter.

You’re probably wondering about the child. Well, I had him, but I gave him up for adoption. His name is Trevor and he lives in Oregon. We have never met him, I never told Richie about him and he does not know who Richie is. I was told he recently filed to receive information on his real parents, but only my information would be available.

Danielle

The letter was a chilling revelation. I couldn’t have felt more vulnerable standing there in the middle of the room, and while I believed the bulk of the letter, something about it was off. Particularly that last paragraph about Trevor as the handwriting on that section looked just a little different than the rest.

Still, I was over the whole thing. My entire world was a smoldering pile of rubble and I just wanted to hose off the ashes and move on at this point.

I tucked the note addressed to me in my pocket. Dialed 911 on the landline at the house, left it ringing and ran out of the house.

October 2016

It’s funny how fast six years go by. I wasn’t sure if was the complete change of lifestyle, leaving it all behind, or being on island time out in Hawaii which made time go by in flash, but I didn’t really care. Each day was just a numb passing where I tried to suck as much joy out of life as I could, waiting tables, going to the beach and drinking… a lot.

I figured the little café I caught on up in the corner of Kaui where the highway almost ends was about as far as I realistically could get away without leaving the U.S. and without going to Alaska, and for years, it was. Other than the select few family members I gave very specific directions about how to contact me, I never had any little bits of my old life creep back in.

Well...until just a few afternoons ago.

It was towards the end of a quiet afternoon shift when a customer who another server had abandoned called me over. I was in such a rush to clean off the last of my tables, I didn’t even give him much of a look, just took his check and credit card and rushed off to the computer to punch in his order and bring him back his receipt. I could tell he was a very young man with lighter hair, but that was about it.

I went back later and collected his signed receipt and that was when things started to get memorable. First, he left a $20 tip on an $12 meal. Second, there was a little note written below the total line which read: SAY HI TO DANIELLE & JON FOR ME! :). Third, I noticed his name on the bill was Trevor Billings. Fourth, he left another note below his name which has been haunting me the past few days, written in the same handwriting I had not seen since those notes I read that night in Jon and Danielle’s house seven years before.

It read: I’LL SEE YOU AGAIN SOON.

Originally published by Thought Catalog on www.ThoughtCatalog.com.

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