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the-paris-of-people · 8 months ago

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Blue Brownies and Finding Nemo, Part 4: BOTL

Summary:

“So how did you do it then? How did you forgive your mom?”

“I didn’t,” Annabeth shakes her head. “I don’t think I ever will. I just have to hope that I’m better for my future family.”

Percy cocks his head, his eyes light with wonder. “You think about that stuff?”

A chapter post-BOTL where Percy and Annabeth finally get to go on that movie date, featuring Rachel Elizabeth Dare angst, complex feelings towards Frederick Chase, fantasies of future Percabeth, and as it turns out, no movie at all?

Tagging: @yojeannie@angelthearsonist@m-cliffords-not-real-wife@that-chick-103@queerynotfound@thefabulousfab-3@montygreen@moonlightredfern @flamingbisexual08

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The person in the mirror at the back of the Delphi Strawberry Service van is a stranger to Annabeth.

Inside, she feels like she’s fought a million battles. The constant cycle of pouring over Daedulus’ laptop and crying herself to sleep has stretched her thin. Her hair has withered away from the stress of almost losing Percy, then actually losing Luke. The person she sees now looks like the face that launched a thousand ships. Silena had ambushed her outside the Athena cabin, covered the bags under her eyes with a magical shade-match foundation, and woven her hair with golden thread, just like she had it on Circe’s island.

“Trust me, I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” Silena reassured after charming Annabeth to vent to her about her date with Percy. She tapped her brush against her compact mirror and swirled it across her cheeks as she continued to comfort her, “There’s no need to worry about this Rachel girl.”

She wasn’t sure about that. She saw the way Percy’s eyes flitted towards Rachel in the Labyrinth, the way they spoke to each other with ease, nothing like the way she and Percy interacted. Yes, she and Percy had gone to the 4th of July fireworks this summer, but she’d also tried to tell him how she felt about him before he left for camp and… nothing. Annabeth had felt so stupid. For reasons including and not about Rachel at all, she was holding onto this movie date like it would be their last.

“Annabeth,” Percy flusters when he sees her hop out of the van on the corner of 72nd street. He’s wearing his nicest green jacket, blushing so red he nearly looks like one of Apollo’s cattles. “You-you look nice,” He finally manages after struggling through his words like he was reading Lord of the Flies in English.

“Thank you,” Annabeth tucks a strand of her braids behind her ear. She notices the shift in Percy’s expression. He knows something is wrong. Normally she would flick a smile his way and tease, but she’s so worn out by the nightmares about Luke and Kronos that she can’t even summon her pride to be vain about her looks. “So, are we going to see this steel man movie or not?”

Percy opens his mouth to correct her, then shakes his head and opens the door for her.

“Do you want any popcorn or something?” Percy gestures to the snack bar. “Tyson and I used to get a giant tub and share it with my mom. They make it pretty buttery here.”

“No need,” Annabeth smirks and opens the purse Silena gave her. “I have everything we need.”

“I’m confused,” Percy studies the empty lining of Annabeth’s purse. “Is this some kind of Mary Poppins situation?”

“Covered the snacks with the invisibility cap,” Annabeth zips up the bag and slugs it over her shoulder as she heads towards the escalator to the theater. “It’s not just useful for sneaking up on monsters. Plus I snuck some extra M and Ms in the cargo pants pockets.”

“And somehow Mrs. O’Leary didn’t follow you from camp?” Percy asks as they both climb onto the escalator, impressed.

“I fed her some blue gummies before I left.”

“Hellhounds can eat blue gummies? And those giant boar things hate egg salad? Seriously, why doesn’t Chiron just host courses on random picnic foods for monsters before each quest. Then I could get out of archery practice.”

‘Hey, you’re almost getting better,” Annabeth punches him lightly in the shoulder. “Last time you almost hit the target.”

“Haha, very funny,” Percy rolls his eyes, even though he knows it’s true. He’s as bad at archery as Annabeth is at gardening with the Demeter cabin. “Now come on. I want to show you something.”

Electricity sparks through Annabeth’s veins as Percy takes her wrist and leads her down a regal hallway. The hum from her heart is so loud it nearly drowns out her observations as she hurries past the red velvet carpet and black, marble Grecian pillars. She would have to make a note of that later when they were walking back from the theater. With Percy’s fierce urgency, Annabeth expects Percy to be leading towards some kind of secret tomb with rubies and emeralds, but instead, he takes her to a plaque outside the last theatre in the hall.

“These are what I was telling you about. Each of these theaters is designed after a movie palace from the twenties, a lot of them are still all around New York, decorated in a different architectural style. This one is from-”

“Art Deco!” Annabeth exclaims gleefully. She marvels at the style of the theater in the photo. “See? You can tell by the horizontal design elements on the marquee and doorways, alluding to Streamline Moderne style.”

“Horizontal elements? Because being vertical was too old school for the modern style?”

“Actually, you’re not too far off, Seaweed Brain,” Annabeth rolls her eyes, but a hint of a smile plays at the corner of her lips. “Horizontal lines gave an impression of sleekness and modernity in the 1930s, which I assume is when the original theater was built. See?” Annabeth turns back and skims through the plaque first, absorbing the most important ideas and key words. Then she rereads through it again, more slowly, imagining the construction of the arch and statues…

“How do you do that?” Percy asks, breaking her concentration for a moment. She quickly refocuses back on the photo of the theater, picking out structural details of the facade that were expanded upon in her reading.

“Do what?”

“I can barely spell my own name and you can speed read that entire passage in like, five seconds.”

“I can barely spell my own name too. I don’t know… being dyslexic, I just got my hands on whatever I could read when I was younger. My dad’s old house had a giant library when I was little, so I tried to read everything in there, and then when I got to camp, I had a lot of free time on my hands in the winter,” Annabeth turns back to Percy, and that’s when she notices how his eyes lay across hers, soft and full of wonder. She remembers how he pulled her in in the Athena cabin, when she had him all to herself at the beginning of the summer, before everything turned sour, how she tasted the sweet, salty taste of his lips even after it had been days since they had entered the Labyrinth. Suddenly, heightened nerves arrest Annabeth. Her heart rate quickens as she speeds through her explanation, doubting Percy notices the uncharacteristic tremble in her voice. “Chiron gave me a book on the Parthenon when I was 9, and then I just couldn’t stop reading, even though it’s still hard for me.”

“That’s really cool,” Percy’s voice is steeped in awe. It’s the same tone he used when Rachel had gotten them that car in New Mexico, and Annabeth can’t help but to feel proud of herself. “You know, I don’t know if I could ever become good at something that’s that challenging to me.”

Annabeth frowns. Sometimes Percy was so self-deprecating, it frustrated her. He was totally unaware of his own strengths. “Please, remember when you first started sword-fighting?”

“Hey, I thought you said I wasn’t bad.”

“You weren’t,” Annabeth remembers with a glint in her eye. “But you’re even better now.”

“But I didn’t even train that much, I just accidentally kind of… got better as I fought.”

“Percy,” Annabeth sighs, bowing her head in exasperation. “You’re a talented guy, but you can’t take a compliment to save your life.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment? Because I honestly can’t tell.” Percy replies back dryly.

Annabeth scoffs, but they’ve known each other for so long she and Percy both know it’s free of malice. They both know this is one of the moments in the script they tease each other, but underneath all eye rolls and barbs is a deep understanding and respect of the other. They hold each other’s gaze and both wordlessly break out into smiles, realizing they’ve fallen back into their usual routine after a summer that threw a wrench in everyone’s schedule. Annabeth’s skin buzzes with excitement. She has a glimmer of hope that maybe this is a date, whether Seaweed Brain realized it or not. Yes, this was how they typically interacted, but there was something different in the way they spoke to each other as well, something she saw in Beckendorf and Silena interactions, new sweetness balancing out the usual sour tang.

“You know, it’s a compliment, Seaweed Brain. So just take it and acknowledge you’re a talented guy. Now come on, I want to read the other plaques before the previews start,” She leads the way towards the next plaque even though she’s never been to the theater and has no idea where she’s going, Percy groaning as he trails behind.

“All the plaques?” Percy questions, his blonde curls rattling as he shakes his head. “I swear, you and Rachel are just like each other. She wanted to read all the plaques when she came here too.”

Annabeth freezes in her tracks like snowboots caught in old snow. She turns to Percy slowly, her face crumpled.

“You’ve been here with Rachel before?”

Percy flinches a little at her tone: demanding, hurt, seething with rage. Still, he remains oblivious as he answers her question,

“Yeah, a couple times. She invited me to see a Matrix movie marathon a few weeks ago.”

He came here with Rachel multiple times since he came back from camp. Since he had come back from camp, he’d been hanging out with her, even though he’d asked Annabeth on a date months ago, even though he comforted her and let her hold his hand in the dark and shared his blanket with her as they watched the fireworks.

“Annabeth?” Percy’s voice is drenched in worry at Annabeth’s non-reaction. “Annabeth? Are you okay?”

“Excuse me,” Annabeth says quietly as she rushes towards the sign for the bathroom. She claims the unisex stall and hunches over the sink. For the first time that day, she finally sees the withered little girl she feels inside.

The tears come not as an eruption, but as a quiet trickle of disappointment in herself and everything her life had turned out to be. She wanted catharsis and a good cry, and yet, still she’s disappointed herself on that front.

She had no right to be angry and rude. Rachel was as talented as a child of Athena, as brave as a certain son of Poseidon, and as pretty as a daughter of Aphrodite. She glowed in the darkness of the Labyrinth and even as a statue in the middle of Times Square. She was smart and knowledgeable about art and Annabeth could’ve spoken with her about Jacque-Louis David for hours and hours. She could see why Percy liked her.

So why did it hurt so much that another person she loved left her for someone else, once again?

As Annabeth wipes her tears with the pack of tissues she’s stored under her invisibility cap, a sheepish knock taps at the door.

“Annabeth? Can I come in?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Annabeth calls with a slight bite to her voice. She brushes her tears off her face again, thankful for the magical smudge-free makeup of the Aphrodite cabin, for once.

The door creaks as an apprehensive Percy walks over and stands next to her over the sink. She averts her eyes down, knowing she’ll start to cry more if she meets his eyes.

“Hey, I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong?”

The softness of his apology splits Annabeth once again, and she feels guilty all over again for feeling so uncontrollably possessive and jealous over someone who was never hers.

“No,” She shakes her head, still fixated at the white marble of the sink. “No, you did nothing wrong.”

“Oh, okay, then uhhhh, do you want to check out the other plaques? I think we still have some time before the previews to read a couple more.”

“Can we just go to the park?” Annabeth sniffles, finally turning back to Percy. “Riverside?”

Percy winces as he watches her dab away at the last of her tears. He knows Percy expected her to ask to go to MET or the Morgan Library. She’s never told him, but being by the water is special for her, too. “Yeah, sure, of course.”

****

The kiss of summer sunshine brightens the scent of the grass so much, it almost smells like Camp Half Blood strawberry fields. The walkway winds around gated playgrounds, filled with children swinging their arms across the monkey bars as their parents lean against each other on a chipped park bench and watch them from afar. The Hudson glitters like the mischievous twinkle in Percy’s eyes, deep blue with flecks of silver and gold, and the thought of it makes her blush, realizing she’s thinking this while she’s standing right next to Percy. She’s thankful all over again for Silena’s makeup, causing her to wonder if she should start wearing blush more around him.

She and Percy match each other’s long, slow strides, the air between them thick with tension of all the things left unsaid, then thinned out again with the comfort and ease that’s existed between them for years. Annabeth looks back out onto the water and thinks about the stories her dad regaled her with before her stepmother came into the picture. Every so often, he would tell Annabeth how she came to be the most precious gift in his life, how he met the most beautiful, intelligent woman while studying at a magical place called Harvard, how they used to study together at Reading Room on the top floor, with paneled rooftop windows that ushered light that fell onto their faces. They talked in the library for hours, and when they needed a break, walked along Cambridge Harbor with ice cream cones that spilled onto their hands in a sticky mess. Whenever Annabeth was by a body of water, she thought of them happily together all those years ago, then of an alternate reality where they stayed together and the three of them were walking together, too.

If you loved each other so much, why isn’t she here with us? Annabeth had asked once, and her father’s face crumbled like a wrecking ball taken to a safehouse. Even though she grew older, and logically, she knew her mother couldn’t be with them, she couldn’t help but feel angry and sad that she never tried. Even though Annabeth and her step-family got along now, she couldn’t help feeling like she did before she ran away. If she couldn’t have her mom, why couldn’t she have her dad all to herself, instead of having to share his scattered brain with three other people?

“Hey,” Percy nudges her arm as Annnabeth descends further and further into her imaginary fantasy. “Thinking about your dad?”

Annabeth realizes she’s subconsciously touching her dad’s ring and drops her hand. She wonders how much she should tell Percy, how ridiculous it seems, but she stares back at him and knows he would understand her.

“You know why I wanted to come here?” She twists the ring in between her thumb and index finger and stares back out at Hoboken, across the river. “The summer my parents met, they used to take walks together by the Charles River. The way my dad talks about it…” Annabeth’s eyes get misty again, but she wills herself to push them away. “I can tell he really loved her. And sometimes when I walk along a body of water, I imagine that they’re still together and we’re a family. I know, it’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not stupid.” Percy reassures, with that sweet, genuine tone he uses to comfort her. He pauses for a moment then admits, “Actually, I uh, saw your vision at Siren Bay. I just didn’t bring it up because well,” Percy scratches the back of his head. “I think about my parents getting back together too.”

“Really?” Annabeth had discussed with her siblings how much they hated having one parent around, but she’d never felt secure enough to broach the topic of wanting her family back together.

“Yeah. I was actually just thinking about them now, even though we’re not in Montauk,” Percy flicks his eyes down for a moment, then towards the kids on the playground. “Did I tell you though that Paul wants to propose to my mom? He told me at my birthday party a few days ago, before my dad showed up.”

Annabeth is taken back. She knew about Poseidon showing up, but not Paul Blofis proposing. “How do you feel about that?”

“I’m happy,” Percy sounds upbeat, but she senses his voice falter, just the tiniest bit. That was Percy, always trying to accommodate everyone without thinking of himself. “I mean my mom was miserable for so long with Gabe. She deserves to be happy..”

“Dude,” Annabeth scolds, softly enough to coax him into admission.

“And….” Percy hesitates, because he can’t say a bad thing about anyone he cares about, even if it’s devouring him alive. “It does make me a little sad too, and I’m angry at my Dad for not getting it together and being with us too.”

“I know the feeling,” Annabeth murmurs. A gust of wind blows and whips her braids across her hair.

“So how did you do it then? How did you forgive your mom?”

“I didn’t,” Annabeth shakes her head. “I don’t think I ever will. I just have to hope that I’m better for my future family.”

Percy cocks his head, his eyes light with wonder. “You think about that stuff?”

“Sometimes,” Annabeth flushes hot. She’s never admitted that to anyone, because it’s embarrassing and illogical and stupid. She knows the rules of their world, but she can’t help but dream. “I know demigods don’t live past 16, but sometimes I picture myself as a famous architect, maybe a professor giving lectures across the world, and sometimes… I imagine myself with a family, too.”

Percy purses his lips together and thinks to himself for a moment. “You know, I’ve never thought about it too much before, but a family would be nice.”

And there he is, holding his gaze with hers again. Annabeth swallows and begins to fidget furiously with her fingers. A building can only be supported with a solid foundation, she realizes, and she never imagined herself with a family until she met Percy. Her heart leaps as she watches the golden light trickle through the tree branches and onto his cheeks. The way he stood was so easy, so relaxed, he slouched without thinking and his fingers always curled casually at the ends, like he didn’t think about what to do with his hands. Annabeth was deliberate in every movement, she overthought everything, and he just.. was. Even when it hurt to be around him, it was easy to be around him.

“Listen,” Percy breaks the silence with a hoarse whisper. “I’m sorry about Rachel.”

Annabeth stiffens at the mention of her name.

“Whatever.”

“Okay,” Percy says slowly. “Well it seems like you really don’t like it when I hang out with her, and I don’t know why.”

He really did have a thick skull.

“No seriously, I don’t care.” Annabeth crosses her arms. “You can hang out with whoever you want.”

“Well, okay then,” Percy dismisses, annoyed, before turning sincere again. “I just… I know things have been weird between us this past summer, and I just don’t want to be so distant from you.”

It really was hard to stay mad at him when he was so sweet, even when he was being an obtuse idiot.

“Well, unfortunately you’re stuck with me,” Annabeth brushes him off with a sarcastic comment to avoid the skip in her heart. “If we go down, we’re going down together, remember?”

“Okay,” A slow smile curls across Percy’s mouth, and the sunshine lit behind him makes it look like a halo with his smile and golden curls.“Good to know you’re still in on that.”

“Always,” Annabeth says with an eye roll, but she casts one last look at him in the light before turning to pretend to look at the river again instead of his handsome eyes. She curls her hands into fists to suppress the urge to reach out and hold his hand.

“On that note, let’s go get some ice cream,” He leads the way before Annabeth can object. “I’m buying.”

#percabeth fic #percabeth #percy jackson #pjo #annabeth chase #frederick chase #athena #mine

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vampvalerian · 4 months ago

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TURN THE PAIN INTO POWER Est. June 15, 2024

Call me Valerian! or whatever you want honestly He/him pronouns!

Sanguinarian vampyre

Elf

Labelas Enoreth, Lord of the Continuum

Other types here

I'm a writer, artist, and musician Send in asks! I love talking to people :D

Tags, userboxes, credits and more below cut :)

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#valerian doesn’t shut up #alterhuman #vampyre #otherkin #real vampire #elfkin #vamposting #bg3 #humanoidkin #vampire

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freshlyrage · 10 months ago

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Running Like Water

Chapter 21

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I’m bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 9.4k

a/n: Whoa haven't seen you guys since last year... LOL. This is very angst filled, sadly its our last vacation chapter. Back to reality but Javier and Andrea try some new... stuff... this chapter 🍑. If it isn't your thing thats okay!

But (no pun intended) on a less sexy note, Andrea meets some family this chapter.

Sorry for the wait was busy this month having a winter break fling (that's so like me) but back to reality.

Thank you for being so patient with me always.

This is for @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

The two of you leave the studio shortly after Edmond threatened to wring Javier’s neck for the first date joke, well it is our first date. Before that though you were honestly eager to get out of the place, you needed him back in the hotel room, you needed to thank him with your mouth, with the warmth pooling on the tiny thong under your skirt. While Javi explains to Edmond that you are indeed the girl he had vented about when they first met, usually this would have made you a blushing mess but you were practically squirming in the stool. Your earrings catching the light casting a red reflection against the wall. Your eyes follow the light around the room as the two spoke, your mind drifting in places that could only be described as filthy. Edmond jokes that it had all worked out in the end, it took you a moment to catch up with their jokes. You had disassociated but Javier picked up on it and ushered the two of you out of the studio and back out into the Louisiana heat.

“I have dinner reservations so behave.” He whispers before grabbing your hand in a sweet possessive hold. Your brows quirk slightly before leaning into him completely. He seemed to be hyper focused on getting the two of you to the proper place at the right time because his eyes went all squinted while he walked you through the busy sidewalks.

“I am behaving.” You were, sure, maybe it was a bit rude of you to look around the room aimlessly while Javier caught up with his old pal, but you truly didn't mean to. There was something about girls like you, girls who craved to be wanted–once you get a taste–insatiable is the only word to describe you. So insatiable that you couldnt give a fuck about a dinner date with Javier Peña, it was so like you. So like you to feel so overwhelmed with love, a feeling so foreign, so strong that now you can't think of anything else but the thought of him inside of you. Good lord you were soaking.

His cheeks were still red, either from tears or the high sun. Regardless he looks down at you with a teasing smirk that quickly hardens and turns into a disapproving head shake. “I saw you out of the corner of my eye, querida. Wiggling around in that stool.” He says in hush tones, you break eye contact in slight embarrassment. You know that annoys him, when you shy away because you feel his body stiffen. Poor Javi, you think. One day he’ll understand you fully, he knows you better than anyone else but he still isn't used to your self-destructive tendencies of self-manipulation and constantly wondering whether he truly likes you. And despite today being the greatest testament of his devotion for you there was still that part of you that was a girl without a father. How humiliating? You also know he is never truly upset with you, even when he stands up straight and huffs a breath, it's always followed by silence, his space to try to figure you out.

There's a lot to learn, six years apart is too much for anyone. You've become four different people in these six years.

By the time the two of you entered the warmly lit restaurant you've given your brain some time to think of meeting your grandmother tomorrow, now thats a thought to have you quit squirming. The desire you felt so heavily only half an hour before left in an instant at the thought of what's to come tomorrow. As you settle in your seat the thought of your father not being alive crosses your mind, instinctively you touch the bee earrings softly.

You feel Javi watching you with intent, a small frown on his lips as he adjusts his belt buckle while he sits. If your stomach wasn't doing turns from impending doom you would have made a big dick joke, you suddenly didn’t have it in you. You quit touching the earrings and let out a shaky breath before grabbing the menu.

“What’s wrong Andrea?” He asks, stern, almost like it's a statement. Like nothing is not an answer he’ll accept. He knows something is wrong.

“I’m really nervous for tomorrow.” You admit without any tooth pulling. Uncrossing your legs beneath the table, Javi nods firmly he knew how to react to you when you admitted things like this. There's nothing you hated more than someone screwing their brows in concern and pity, he never did that. He just nodded, solid, dependable and able to listen. He doesn't respond so you continue. Brushing a piece of hair from your face you sip the water given. “I also don’t want this weekend to end. I don’t want to go back. I especially don’t want to go back if tomorrow goes bad, I don’t have it in me to explain that to my mother.” There it was, that other part. The sheer embarrassment that could be awaiting you, the possibility of being humiliated by your paternal family and coming home to a mother that will look at your tear stained cheeks and say, I told you so.

Javi clenches his jaw at the slight shake in your voice, and it’s so like him. He puts his large hand palm up at the small table between you two. Your heart grows in your chest and without hesitation you place your own small hand over his. Manicured nails circling the dry lines there, his thumb rises and wedges between two fingers tickling you a spot you never knew tickled. You choke out a giggle and dug your nails into his palm, he winces in fake pain. Ow, he grumbles. You take his hand entirely and lifts it to your face, pressing a kiss to his palm. He smiles, his dimples deepening and his eyes crinkling. “Sorry.” You say and kiss his palm again, “Sorry for attacking you with my nails even though you’ve made me the happiest girl in the world today.”

He shakes his head in a shy little act, wow, you wanted to jump his bones again. “It’s okay I like it when you’re rough.”

“Oh shut up.” You laugh, pressing his palm to your cheek before placing it back down on the table. “And I’m sorry for ruining the mood with my sulking.”

“Don’t apologize to me.” Javier furrowed his brow in disapproval, “If tomorrow doesn’t go the way you plan I’ll extend our weekend, give you time to recover here. Don’t care if it’ll be obvious to everyone that we’re together, we’ll figure it out.”

Your lips quirk in a satisfied smile, you’ll take it. You were minutes away from suggesting the two of you stay in New Orleans until the damn wedding Saturday. The two of you were so in love it was hard to be logical. Hiding your face a smidge as you lift the menu to cover your crimson cheeks. “Okay, that's fine with me.”

“God I wish I knew she was that mean to you–I’m like regretting being her friend a little bit.” You were slurping down pasta with a frown, hearing stories from high school about Lorraine. The more he uncovered, the more you regret giving her grace. Every new piece of information was followed with Javier’s attempt to excuse it. You suppose the both of you have some things to learn, you wanted to tell him that her actions and his faults were not in the slightest bit comparable. Like;

On valentine's day she got drunk and purposefully poured wine on my favorite sweater in front of all my friends. But she was mad because I skipped sunday mass with her family the week before.

Or,

I was really upset with her cheating, but she blamed it on the time I called you pretty in front of her. I guess to her that was emotionally cheating.

You sat in front of him with your mouth agape, or you cursed under your breath before shutting yourself up with carbs. “None of that is normal, you shouldn't make excuses for that sort of behavior. I doubt she does when she complains about you to other people.” You say while dabbing the corners of your lips free of marinara.

He laughs and nods in agreement, “You're right, I want to be the bigger person though. No need to be upset on my behalf querida.”

The 2nd glass of wine gets to you slightly as you roll your eyes aggressively, feeling awfully protective of your boyfriend. You remember which sweater it was, it was the white knitted one he wore to his last christmas at home, he would wear that thing to every holiday. “Whatever, god forbid I feel defensive over my man.” You whisper and bring your glass to your tinted lips. Javier’s lips quirk at its corners, you know he loved hearing that come from your mouth. You noticed it just thirty minutes prior when you told the waiter, my boyfriend would like the same. You picked up on the way he shifted in his seat when you called him baby. For the past 10 minutes you had been slipping the pet names slowly and scattered, he was getting worked up. Look who needs to behave now.

“Hmm.” He huffs, annoyed, turned on, grumpy and everything else.

You bite back a tipsy smile, slipping your pointed heel up his calf slowly, until the outsole skated his inner thigh. He shakes his head and looks to you through a half lidded gaze. “Relax.” His voice deep and striking, loud enough for the other patrons to hear. You nod in agreement and attempt to move your foot back down but before you could make the effort his hand falls between his spread legs and holds your delicate foot in place on his lap. Your breath hitches in your throat, your leg pulled so still your skirt rides up. Saving yourself from the breeze, your left leg tightens to cover the soaked fabric now exposed.

With his right hand holding your heeled foot and his left hand on the table, he grabs his glass and continues at his drink. Your breath is hitched in your throat, you feel his stare. His eyes glued to your chest, your nipples pebbled under the fabric. You don’t listen to his demand, incorrigibly you lean forward releasing some tension with the press of your legs and the hip movement required for you to move closer. “Why are you being so mean?”

His eyes narrow, “Mean? A weekend getaway, museum date and those pretty earrings.” He teases and you nearly laugh, nearly, truthfully you were so turned on you couldn’t care to play these games. You’ve had years to do that. You survey the restaurant, there had only been about ten tables and each paired with a couple or a group of men in suits. Your eyes dart to the family bathroom, Javier follows your line of sight with a smirk. No families, you note. Less guilt for what you’re about to do.

You drop your heel from his hold and wipe the corners of your mouth, “Well, you’ve spoiled me Javi.” You shrug, adjusting your small cardigan to cover your pointed nipples. He laughs a hearty chuckle. Your face falls to straight seriousness, hair readjusted. His nostrils flare at your hardened look.

“Rotten.”

Your eyes shrink with a slight hint of petulance. Like a little girl not getting her way, absolutely not. Eyes scanning the room once more, “Well if you’ll excuse me. I’m going to take care of myself in the bathroom.” You huff before rising to your feet. Feeling the table to your right shooting a glance at your figure. With a strut of false confidence, your knees were buckling with fear he won’t follow you and just think you’re upset with him. It’s the last message you want to get across after he poured his aching soul to you at the gallery.

Javier watches you walk to the bathroom and close the door behind you. Well he watches to make sure no one else was watching because the pencil skirt you decided to wear curved perfectly below your ass, making it apparent to everyone that your behind was a tight little thing. Rolling his tongue against his cheek he waits a few seconds before pinching the bridge of his nose.

He knows you, he knows you’ve been pent up since the gallery, since he put those earrings on you. How could he not know, you practically screwed your brows in bliss every time he took a look at you. Truthfully on their walk to the restaurant he was still reeling from the entire first date thing, he had never lost his composure like that—to cry in front of someone— to cry in front of you. He’d be a lying dog if it didn’t scare the living shit out of him. So scared that he nearly thought about just saying fuck it and getting down on one knee and proposing to you with some fucking earrings.

He knew it before. He knows it now that what you too have is forever, beyond time and circumstance, there was no way you two could live a life with other people. What a discovery to make on a first date.

Anyway those feelings of sheer terror and love, they’re the same in his head, were quickly replaced with every tiny possessive nickname you let leave your red bitten lips. He was fully hard by the time you decided to play footsie with him, he wondered if you felt the strain against his pants through your heels. He decided he was going to fuck you into the mattress when the two of you got back to the hotel but he supposes you had different plans.

His eyes glued to his glass he picks it up and downs it. “Fuck it.” He murmurs before wiping his mustache, adjusting his shirt and heading for a straight bee line for the bathroom.

You smile softly at him through the mirror, “I was starting to think you didn’t get the memo.” Javi nods, his mind set. Silent and brooding behind you. Your confidence seemed to have faded with each passing minute he contemplated whether to follow you or not. “I was afraid you thought I was really upset-Oh Javi.” You shriek the second he tosses your skirt over your ass. Instinctually bending a bit over the sink. Dropping to his knees, his dirty thoughts win as he slightly sinks his teeth into your tan behind. You giggle at the absurdity of it all, but he doesn’t care what it would look like to anyone else. He was a man utterly in love with his girlfriend, and with how soft her ass was.

Javier kisses each cheek of hers and laces each kiss with a bite then a firm tug. Kneading and kisses, his large palms have finally found something that he didn’t completely engulf. Why was it so sexy when his hand covered your entire breast yet even sexier that your ass finally dwarfs him? He’s never been a man above worship, above religion, still he had never believed in a god so clear, so real until he came home and had you. Was it normal to be this enthralled by a partner? Was it just the honeymoon? He really couldn't care anymore about those questions because god, Andrea, he murmurs like a prayer.

With your skirt piled at your hips, the tiny little red thong was fair game for his needy kisses. His teeth graze the string that just barely covered the one part of you that’s untouched, you buck as his fingers spread you open, the loose string falling to the side to expose you there. “Anyone ever touch you here?” He asks with his left hand holding you open, and his right thumb skimming so close. He knows the answer. He wants to hear it. You screw your eyes shut, a small whimper escapes your parted lip. Your heels slip on the tile, he lets up his left hand to hold you steady.

Tossing your hair over one shoulder and attempting to look back at him you whisper, “Never—I want to try but-”

But I’m not sure I want that sort of first time to be in a restaurant bathroom. You think.

He knows exactly what you mean, he knows how delicate this part of sex could be, he knew it's a lot more than a heat of the moment decision. He’d never, not in a place like this. Though, he had other ideas, “Another time, can I taste you here at least.” He taps at your cunt and you eagerly reach behind and slide your panties to the side. Javi smiles when he’s met with his girlfriend’s swollen cunt just for him. Good lord, he did not want to think about having to sneak around again. For the two of you to be limited beyond your control the second you step home. He wondered why he couldn’t just rent a home out here just for the two of you, just until he leaves. Will they be reduced once again to just twice a week, all pent up and hand-covering mouth sex in his bed. He tried not to think, tried.

One thing the two of you have grown fond of is him eating you out from behind. This position was just like the second time, in his room on memorial day. You look over your shoulder, the cardigan slipped low to expose the tan shoulder of yours. With lidded eyes you stare into Javier’s soul as you reach your hand between his face and your bent form. With a shy blush your delicate fingers run across the seam of your cunt and slowly up to skim the tight hole that's been the object of Javier’s deepest fantasies.

“You can taste here too.” You quip, you weren’t sure if people even did that. You could be making a fool out of yourself but you knew after his fingers got close to your asshole, you felt a new pit in your belly. Javier’s eyes raised and he suddenly felt like a kid in a candy store. Never in a million years did he ever imagine a world where you agreed to something like this. He mumbles deeply, Jesus Christ. You didn’t have to tell him twice.

He plunged his face into your cunt first, quicker and less teasing this time, they were in a public bathroom for crying out loud. His licks and sucks are wet and aggressive. His head shaking in between. You drop your head into your chest and the slow build of release. If he kept up this pace you’ll be writhing in climax in thirty more seconds. You're not sure you were ready for the moment he proceeds to eat you out just there. For a moment you wonder if this is really something people do during sex, you’ve had girl friends who have tried anal but none of them ever mentioned their boyfriends eating them out there. You wonder if you're the first people to ever do this- or it’ll feel good at all. You surely weren’t ready, the second his heavy tongue slid up to your place untouched, and you weren’t expecting such a feeling.

You shrieked loud enough for the guests to hear. Javier’s heart sank and paused for a second while you covered your mouth.

“I’m sorry-I’m sorry.”

Javier’s brows tensed, “Is it too much?” He asks lowly, looking up at the back of your head. You screw your eyes shut, and nod.

“No-I just didn’t expect for it to feel so good.” You whisper as if to do damage control for the shriek you let out, with your head dropped in shame you feel his chuckle between your cheeks. Okay, he laughs and continues again. You’re more prepared this time–yeah you two definitely aren't the firsts to discover eating ass. This has got to be popular.

His head moving skillfully, his chin skimming your cunt along with it. Shaking his head and devouring you whole. And oh, it was a feeling so good you were afraid to know what it would feel like if he applied more pressure than a tongue back there. You never saw the appeal in anything to do with anal—suddenly—you suppose it takes the right person. You always told yourself you’d never try any of that unless you were married or something— well close enough. Your knuckles go white gripping the porcelain tops. He parts for a second and spits directly on your ass, parting you to watch it slide down onto your cunt.

“You like being a dirty girl? Yeah, Andrea?” he gets close again to clean up his mess and good gracious you were close. “Letting me eat your ass like this? Used to think you were so shy—now look at what you’re letting me do to you.” He dives in again, this time reaching his entire body leans with it. His hands gripping the tops of your thighs while he moves from your cunt to your ass and back-and back again.

Your forehead presses against the mirror and you catch your own eyes for a moment and you’re absolutely disgusted by the sight. Disgusted in the best way possible. You are filthy, you love it—you loved this. You bend further to give him better access to your clit and you’re a goner. Your ears ring and you fall limp but like always he never lets you fall. He’s at his feet again, pressing your knees together. He unbuckles himself and relieves his aching cock from their confinement. You open your mouth to tell him to put it in but he speaks first.

“I’m gonna come, just let me—fuck.” He grabs himself and fists himself over your bent body. “Let me fuck your thighs really quick—please princesa, let me—” He grits and you bite your lips at the thought. Your heart skips a beat or a few, so many firsts. Why is the thought so enticing?

Okay—please, you murmur and without hesitation he drags his cock between your folds, collecting slip before thrusting. He wipes his eye as an attempt to readjust his blurry mind. The post orgasm clarity will hit him soon, it didn’t matter now he was too pent up to care. He humps you from behind, his length squeezed by your thighs and his tip nudging your overstimulated clit. There was something depraved about the action, being used in this way. Being used and loving the way it feels.

And he’s driving fast, pre-cum spreading at the tops of your thighs. How he made sex so enjoyable was beyond you, all you could do is softly sigh and moan, nearly drooling from your mouth falling open. “Javi please– I-” Perhaps your moans were a bit too loud because his hand snakes up to your mouth, effectively muzzling you. You babble incoherent begs and moans into his dry palm, while his other hand death gripped your hips for stability. It didn’t take many thrusts for you to be coming again, his hand on your hip quickly snaked to hold your thighs tighter against him and with that he finished over the tops of your thighs, painting you perfectly. His own little art piece.

There’s a ringing silence for a moment as he slips out from behind you. You catch your breath, wiping your tears away. Head heavy, too frazzled to adjust to the situation. Javier just ate your ass out in a restaurant bathroom and fucked your thighs. And you came twice in ten minutes. Jesus take the fucking wheel.

“I-I’m sorry I’ve never done anything like that before.” You almost expect for those words to come from your mouth but it aches all the same coming from his. You turn around to him, knowing the sight is probably ridiculous, tear stained cheeks, a wrap skirt hiked up your legs and his come spread at the tops of your thighs.

Your eyes soften watching him fumble to tuck himself away. You could see his jaw clenched, you knew when his mind was on overdrive. This is one of those moments. Like he’s drafting ways to apologize to you.

“I liked it.” You admit in a whisper.

His brows shoot up and he looks up to you. The color in his face returning, as he fastened his belt. “You did?”

You blush, your eyes falling to your thighs. “I did, we should try more stuff like that… it was… really hot.” You admit, looking up at him through your brow bone. His nostrils flare and he’s nodding.

“Okay.” He nods sternly in the same old grumpy Javi way.

Your lips twist at the silliness of it all. “Okay…”

“Alright.” He’s still staring at your thighs.

You giggle, “Jesus christ Javi! Clean me up!”

He jumps in place, “Right sorry.”

It’s safe to say that the two of you were quite full after the whole restaurant debacle. Frankly your last night should’ve been filled with endless love making but Javier could sense your nerves. After tipsy kisses and stumbling into the room the reality began to set in. You struggled to sleep that night, afraid of waking up to a packed room and a car ride to your grandmother's home. He slipped into the shower with you without any advances, you wouldn't mind it all but he reads you, he washes you without lingering touches and only a few kisses. The two of you find a rhythm, drying off, getting into his shirt and some panties. The two of you exchange stories before bed, who knew he was such a softy like you.

“I’m always nervous before meeting old people.” You admit. Its a stupid quirk of yours but man do the elderly intimidate you. You chose teaching because you knew that dealing with the elderly would be far from that area. “They can be so judgemental and old fashioned, its painful– every conversation.”

Javier strokes his hand against your arm, “You're rambling. It's time for bed baby.”

He was right, you had no need to bring that up, you just really didn't want the day to end. Why is that you were so afraid of the thing you yearned for your entire life?

The morning is quiet and gloomy, it rained the entire night so the sky was all gray clouds with peaking sun. The entire room was packed by the time you sat up to rub your eyes. Your stomach is so uneasy you could only take four bites of the waffles he called in for you, no syrup, just butter and powdered sugar how you like it. He’s quiet too as he folds your clothes. You check out at twelve and load his car again. He kisses your temple before opening the car door for you. You nod a silent thanks before you settle into the car seat. Head leaned against the window. Reaching into the dash board for the map, finger tracing until it stops at the road circled labeled, Andrea’s Grandma, you smile to yourself thinking about Javier at his desk circling and routing a way to her grandmother's home the night before their trip.

With fear of rejection you fiddle with the bee earrings in your ears, grounding yourself with the reminder of Javier even when he's right next to you.

The home was fairly close, only an hour away from the hotel. Javi smokes two cigarettes with the low sound of the road below the tires and slow soul music filling the car. It was then when you realized Javier was nervous too. You think of what he told you at La Belle Forme, about his panic attack. It was rare for silence to exist between them not like this. You kiss his knuckles, a few kisses, you suppose you found solace in comforting him.

When the car slowed down you weren't expecting to be approached with large estates with rolling grass and bald cypress trees casting down like curtains. When Lorena called you pictured an elderly woman in a small home, you never envisioned a large white home attached to other small homes. You looked down at the map. 4289 Coventy Court, “Its the small house, the big one is 4287.” You point, it all seemed to be on the same estate though, you'll still have to walk through this strangers beautiful front lawn in order to get to your grandmothers. Javi nods, shutting the car off. Your hands drop to play with the ripped ends of the map.

His palm comes over to your lap and grabs at your fidgeting hands, his hands always cold and dry and large. “¿Estás segura de que estás lista?” He asks so softly, he did that often, reassuring you in spanish. You inhale deeply, looking at your connected hands and then to the house peeking behind the large trees. You nod.

And there it is, right In front of you— a physical manifestation of the answers you’ve prayed to hear. Everything you've ever wanted to know. It could split you completely, could kill you, but it could free you. A small part of you hopes it splits your heart in two so that you're prepared for heartache in November at the hands of the DEA. Who knew Javier could hurt you more than your father? When did you give him that power, you suppose it’s when you realized it was love.

The two of you climb out of the truck and make your way through the cobblestone path, “I’m not going to get shot out here right?” Javi whispers and you cant even itch out a giggle from the coil of nerves in your chest, he doesn’t joke anymore. He trails behind you while you lead the way, like you know where to go— you haven’t had a fucking clue. With every tap of your sneakers on the ground you felt panic rise higher in your throat.

You could feel Javier behind you, keeping his steps slower than your own. Giving you space you weren’t sure you wanted. You appreciated it nonetheless. Like he was ready to run and get the car if anything hurts you. He’s 3 steps behind you once you close your eyes shut before knocking on the light blue door. Your eyes surveying the plants lining the white porch. “¡entra!” A distant voice calls from beyond the door and its the same voice from the phone. Something in you bursts, your eyes dart to Javier in fit of panic. Fuck it. You open the door to the home.

The astounding amount of pastels blind you. An entire rolling carpet of white at your feet, Javier holds his arm out before you nervously put your outside shoes inside this museum piece of a home. You saw her too, out of the corner of your eye. Sat in a wheelchair with hair pressed straight down to her hips, with a book in her lap – the sound of birds chirping splitting your ears as you unlace your shoes with shaky hands. Javier seemed to have slipped his shoes in record time because his socked foot took a step inside before he bent down again to grab your shoes and tossed them outside.

Standing up straight the woman in front of you widens her eyes at the sight of you, her smile splitting her face in two and you arent sure if anyone had ever looked at you with such melancholy before. She was a beautiful woman, well kept from what you can see it seemed like she had a lot of help. For once in your life you feel strong, chin up and nearly smiling. Lorena fully smiles and there it is–You can finally pin point where your bright grin comes from. "Ven aquí! Get over here before I try to walk to you!." She shouts with that same accent you remember over the phone and with that you're padding over to your grandmother. Embracing her for the first time. Receiving kisses to the side of your head, and caresses and you don’t feel sad anymore–or nervous. You sat in front of her and Javier stayed in his lane, quiet and observing. His hand on your while she explained how she found your number.

“My greatest friend Griselda moved to Laredo about a year ago. I had been pushing the poor woman to look through the phonebook for your name– I didn't know if you had our last name or hers. Whatever I found it and tried calling but your mother– you already know.”

You sure did, the conversation was what you expected it to be. She attempts to understand what your life has been like this whole time. You tell her your mother owned a boutique and that your brother was on his last week of being a bachelor, she teared up at that. You almost forgot she was around when your brother was just two years old, she laughs when explaining his biting problem. Her eyes fall between the two of you a few times, you and Javier and your joined hands. The way his were in your lap and how your nail grazed the strong tendons of your lovers hands. She kept the questions Andrea central.

Did you end up going to college?

Yes, University of Miami. I’m a middle school teacher.

She laughs and claps her hands together, she tells you taught for thirty six years. Your heart nearly bursts in your chest.

So are you living at home?

For now, yes. I’m looking to move soon.

Do you like your brother's wife to be?

Oh–yeah. She’s been my close friend since I was in middle school.

She nods, turning to her left to grab her cup of tea. There had been two cups left out. She let you in on how she kept the place so tidy, her home nurse Ms. Cristina, who worked for her every day. She points to her bird cage at the corner of the living room which shows the only non-tidy part of the house full of bird seeds on the floor, They also take of me.

“And this–.” She smiled, waving her finger in between you two. “How did you two meet.”

“Oh!” You laugh, Javier cracks a smile. “We-”

“Uh-No. I want to hear his story. Ha estado sentado ahí en completo silencio, habla, hijo.” She cuts you off in the only way elderly people know how, gracefully and silly all at once. Your cheeks burn red. Absolutely intrigued to hear his explanation. His face softens for a moment before he breaks into a deep chuckle. Rubbing his eye in that same nervous tick that he always does.

“Oh–We were just kids when we met.” He was instantly interrupted by a yelp from your grandmother.

“¡Ay, por Dios! Qué romántico. So you two have been together since then?” Perhaps it was rude but immediately you and Javier look at each other and let out a cackle in unison. Leaning into his shoulder as you giggle while your grandma sits confused, wondering what was so funny about her question. “What-What’s so funny?” She says with a hint of humor in her own tone.

Javier shakes his head and replies, “It took us close to a decade to get here.” His eyes flash to yours, soft and gleaming. He looks at you like this often—always, but there’s a different look, something close to pride. Truthfully, he was overjoyed to talk about you to someone, especially to someone who by some crazy phone call and last minute trip—is your family.

Lorena smiles, sipping her tea with a nod. Her eyes floating to something behind you, above your head. You don’t turn to see what has made her eyes misty and youthful for a moment. “Ah.. one of those. I’m familiar, promise you. What is it that you do Javier?”

He straightens up at the question like it shattered the small world he’s created with you. “I’m a DEA agent, I’m assigned in Colombia starting this November.” It was firm, devoid of laughter and pride. Like a soldier being questioned about deployment. Your grandmothers brows screw in sympathy the second he mentions being away, her eyes falling to your own. You tried to be strong but the reminder chips away at your spirit each time. Five months away. Your eyes drop to your knees.

“Ah… I see.” Softly she points her chin high, a necklace falling out of her cashmere sweater with the movement. She nudges behind you, where her eyes fell previously, you and Javier turn slightly. The image of a man in black and white, eyes light and a stern look. Clad in military attire, and a nose so similar to your own. You into the eyes of your grandfather for the first time. How could you have forgotten? You haven't even asked about him, his name–anything. You notice then that the entire hour you have spent in your grandmother's home you hadn't once thought of your father. Something about the eyes in the photo seared you, What if my fathers dead? “Your grandfather was also named Lucas. He was my high school sweetheart but we broke up after he decided to leave me for the war. Listen, I respect our military but–not for him–absolutely not. He was always leaving, estúpido, estúpido. We split when he was apart, it wasn't very easy to be in contact like it is now. But… I didn't wait, I found someone else but mija… the second he stepped foot on american soil we were married and I was pregnant with your father 3 years later.”

Javier placed his hand on your lower back at some point during her story, thumb softly rubbing into your thin t-shirt. Your eyes threatened to betray you. You know why she chooses to tell you this story, you suppose this sort of thing runs in the family. Leaving and watching the ones who leave. “He died before me, that absolute idiot.” She sniffles and shakes her head. You turn back around, facing her–she had already wiped her tears away. And she does it just like you, palm first and hurried. Who knew the sight of your grandmother crying could fill you with such warmth, you suppose you were never emotional in the same way your mother was. You wondered where it came from, you guess you can say you've got it from your grandmother.

“Oh, I'm so sorry.” You choke on your own words and she waves her hand in a its alright but it isn't motion. She grabs her teacup once more, her eyes stuck to yours until her brows shoot up in shock.

“Oh–your father. It's so like me to get wrapped up in myself, I’m sure you have a million questions. I can settle your nerves and tell you that he is very much alive.” She laughs, she really was a kookie old lady. “He also knows that you’re here.”

“What?” You and Javier blurt simultaneously, the two of you leaning in on your knees. For a split second your cheeks heat at the thought of Javier being this invested but that completely flies out the window while your grandmother nods with a smile.

“This is his estate, you think a school teacher could afford all this? His home was the big one right next door. He’s nervous but he is expecting you. I thought I’d give him time to… speak for himself.” She nods and settles her cup down once more. “I’m not trying to kick you out but he’s probably bouncing his knee for the thousandth time over there”

“You’ve gone non-verbal Andrea.” The two of you kissed your grandmother goodbye with promises of a second visit in the next few months, Javier was micro analyzing your every move. How after the bomb was dropped you had frozen in fear and only muttered 4 more words. Her brows furrowed as the two of them approached the back door of her fathers home. Javier knew what this meant, what this all means. He sees what its doing inside of you, your body is rejecting the truth that, A. your father is alive and B. He seems to be doing quite well for himself. Your grandmother gave the two of you instructions like you were on a secret mission.

Go through the back door

Javi, it's best you wait in the hall.

He will most likely be sat in his office, first door on your right.

You just nodded with a knot in your throat. Javier watches you lead the way in silence and it's killing him to know how much this is taking a toll on you already.

You have eaten in on yourself already, absent in the eyes.

He remembered fathers day being a particularly rough day for you during your summers. How you would call Javier’s house but he’d have to explain that he was on his way out fishing with Chucho. He can't think too hard about all of that, he might crumble himself and he had to be strong, he had to be that for you. You step up and look over your shoulder, nearly tripping–Javier catches you at your elbow and you are trembling.

“Sorry, I’m trying to catalog all the questions I have.” You chuckle and there isn't a bit of humor behind it, just nerves and all. “His house is way too nice. This door knob looks like pure gold.” You attempt a joke but Javier can't seem to laugh either. And like the brave girl you are, you don't hesitate this time, you twist the doorknob pushing the door open. Ahead of you was a grandiose hallway, white paneled walls with tiny intricate floral designs.

The door to his office is already in your view, a long ottoman right outside the door like a waiting room. It felt nothing like a home, like a sterile office or a Homes and Gardens spread. Javier selfishly thinks of how their home will look one day, it will never feel this cold, not in the Louisiana heat. He’d settle down with you in Louisiana. He decided this weekend, he’d like to watch you bask in under the cajun sun with a belly.

The two of you stand side by side in front of a door with no imperfections but a carving of the letter L on the wood. Your brows furrow, “Okay.” You exhale, turning to Javier knowing this is where you part, knowing that whatever goes on behind those doors could hurt you in a way he fears he can never fix. So maybe he’s just as scared, he nods silently and firm. Still putting his act up for your sense of security, he knows you can read right through it, he also knows you love that he does this for you.

He can see it on your lips, see the 3 words, the words he knows you tried to spill out twice on this trip. He shakes his head and grabs your face in a chaste kiss. Your hands hold at his shoulders as you rise on your tiptoes to return it deeper. He doesn’t let you stall, he steps away. “I’ll be right here.” Javier juts his chin toward the ottoman, and he watches you disappear into the room.

Sitting down with a strain in his lower back from the drive and his body's reaction to the thought of the ride they have to take once this is all over. Javier leans his head back, his eyes facing the ceiling. Touched with a heavy weight and the lingering thought of maybe one day having one of these moments with his own mother, if she’s out there. He busies himself with an attempt of remembering her face, drawing her in white lights behind his closed eyes that he was too damn scared to open, scared to be present. Scared of not being strong enough for you. Afraid of opening his eyes and seeing a blackhole ready to swallow him whole, engulfing himself in his own grief that he’s shoved down trying to be a man for you.

He sees your face at first, angled cheeks he first sees you now, a longer face–lips full, a nose with a tiny slope and teeth always threatening to split your lips in a smile. He also sees what you looked like in 1980, rounder cheeks, the face of a shy girl. He remembers your cheeks always being pink. His chest constricts when he pictures that same young face full of tears at fault of his own fears. That's when he makes out his mothers face, eyebrows a light-light brown, so light they always seemed barely there. Her freckle below her eye, her eyes clad with glasses and quirk between her brow. Of disapproval for all things involving their life as a family.

Javier snaps his eyes open at the thought. Straightening up, attempting to now hear what was being said behind the door. His eyes adjust to the bright light of the hall, it really felt like a waiting room. Javier blinks away the floaters.

In front of him is a single picture hung on the wall.

It's an image of your father, he sees the resemblance immediately. But that isn't what catches his eye. Javier's heart drops nauseatingly fast at the sight of two young girls-twins, in the photograph. And in cursive in the far corner,

Best Dad Ever

He’s up and hugging you before you could take in that this is really happening. The hug is tight, it's unfamiliar, it's strangling and you attempt to hug back to make it feel loving but it just isn't there yet. You want to pinch yourself, you've dreamt up this moment. You hugged your own aching body to sleep countless nights wishing for a hug from your father and now that it’s here, you can't even register the difference between him and a stranger.

He holds your face for a moment with his eyes misty, your chin quivers then. He was a splitting image of your grandfather. Eyes a hazel, his hair shaggy and long. Like he doesn't belong in a home this large, you close your eyes for a moment. Overstimulated with the situation, your father cradles your face for the first time since you were a premature newborn. He even calls you beautiful a few times and you’ve never felt stronger for not melting into a puddle of tears. Perhaps you were just too happy.

It was the happiest moment.

You sit in front of him and he has a sheet in front of him. You couldn't be bothered talking about yourself again but you do anyway, he leaned in with every small fact. He beams with a laugh when you tell him that little Frankie was expecting a baby and wedding. He claims that these past years he wondered what you were doing with your life, once your eighteenth birthday approached he says he stayed up the entire night wondering what this next step would look like for you.

“It seems like you've done well for yourself–I'm sorry Andrea, I’m sorry I wasn't there.” You were the only person in tears in the room but you couldn't be bothered to be embarrassed. The tears were only joyful, those sorts came rarely for you. You allowed them to flow without shame.

It’s okay dad, it's okay. You whisper, “My mom–she says she left because you were–”

“An addict.” He cuts. “I was, I got clean the second she fled with you. I called my mom and she sent me to a rehabilitation facility in New York. It’s where I lived most of my life, where I built my business. Where I met my wife.” He smiles to himself and you smile too. What a privilege it is to be loved by someone else. “She isn't home today, told her we would be meeting today and she decided to not overwhelm you so she’s out. I hope you don’t mind.”

You reach out for the box of tissues at his desk, dabbing your eyes. “It's okay–I'm sorry that my mom did that– leaving without notice, it-it kills me when I think of it.” You wipe again as more tears fall, god why was it so difficult to talk when crying. You think of the day after your birth often, you think of your father asleep in a hospital chair, you think of him waking up in an empty room. Your heart chips away slowly but then you look at his face again and he looks just as confused.

He straightened up and his jaw clenched. You were to oblivious to notice the change in his demeanor.

“Andrea– I knew she was going to leave– I- I encouraged her to… I was too sick. I wasn't ready then– I waited six years until I had kids.”

You swear the feeling was akin to being cut by the sharpest blade, sliced slowly down your sternum and the weight of the world on your shoulders. There you are, in front of your father, bleeding out, being drained in front of him. Your head feels light as everything you thought you knew turns on its head. Your eyes fall to your knees, staring into the denim of your pants, trying to register if any of this is real.

What? You whisper.

“Oh Andrea–Melissa–your mother. She sat in that hospital bed and cried, she begged me to get clean for you, but she didn't know how all of that worked. I had to do it for myself, and I did. I asked her to leave. I wasn’t ready, sweetheart.”

The name stung, you sat there, you were an open wound in front of your father as he explains that he made the choice to reject you.

Your chin quivered in a new way, no longer happy. No longer tears between teeth, “I’m really confused.”

“I forgave myself for that decision in rehab. I found god and I absolve myself from that guilt through years of healing, Adalina and Adare’s birth helped me free myself from that decision. I knew you were taken care of I had to–”

“I-I wasn't taken care of. I wasn't loved. I was ignored–I-I spent the holidays alone. I was raised by a nanny–When-when I fell off my bike I relied on my brother's best friend to take care of me. I needed you but I was never angry at you for not looking because I thought you were left completely in the dark.” Each word came with a sob so deep, you weren't sure your body could handle a heartbreak like this. His lips thinned and his brows creased in sympathy that didn't feel genuine. You had sisters, sisters with names awfully close to your own. "Did-did you know where I was?"

"I had you address for several years, yes." Cooly he says it. “Andrea–I'm really upset to hear that. I had assumed you were okay, you never looked for me.”

You shook your head with closed eyes, tears staining your neck. “I shouldn't have to–I’m the child…” You whined, regressing to a little girl, you couldn't help it. This was the worst pain you've felt. “I needed you– I needed a dad.”

“I understand, I understand the importance of a father in a young woman's life–I've got two of my own–But I cannot be sorry for the decision I made twenty two years ago.” How could he be so cold, so analytical. How is it that he talks about the situation like he’s just an observer?

“Three, you have three daughters.” Your voice sobers, its anger this time. You were so upset that he couldn't see this the way you do. Your eyes burn into his and there isn't anything, there's nothing. You began to wonder how he could be the product of a woman like Lorena. “You had me on January 14th 1964, you watched my mom carry me for 7 months before she couldn’t– I’m your daughter too.” You spit without a shaking breath.

His face tightens and he nods, “Technically speaking yes-”

“Oh give me a fucking break!” You cuss, jumping to your feet and he jumps in his seat.

“Please do not cuss in my home.”

You were red hot, fuming as your eyes finally took in the catholic iconography throughout the office. And the many, many pictures of your sisters. Wiping your tears with your palms, fast like you want to hide from him that he even made you cry in the first place. “You are a pathetic person. I feel so ridiculous having wasted so many years wanting you. I’ll see my way out.” You turn and he’s following you, repeating your name but no apologies. You swing the door open and Javier is there at his feet already, with a tense face. You see it, he heard it all and he’s angry.

“Please Andrea, let's just pray together.”

You cackle and glance at your boyfriend. “Let's go Javi.” You storm past him, swinging the backdoor open.

The second the rolling front yard and southern sun hits your skin you begin to sob. Chest wracking yet silent as you walk away from your fathers home. As you walk away from someone else's father. You chest hiccuping as you blurily lead yourself down the path, Javier's steps quickening behind you. Your cheeks hot and stung with tears, head pounding you knew you looked like a swollen hot mess. You hug your own shaking body all the way to the car. Climbing in the passenger's seat with more tears.

You aren't sure if you could ever be okay.

Javier circles the car with his heart in his throat, hearing each word and feeling the cuts deep. He sits and thinks, she won't be able to handle this. He knows you, he knows you enough to love you. He knows you are strong, he also knows no child is strong enough to face rejection from a parent. So he stares at your father before you have walked out the home, he contemplates killing him there. He wants to hurt the man for making you ache so badly. Call him crazy or irrational, but he thought it for a split second. Thought of hurting him.

Javier decides taking care of you was far more important than his anger.

He walks behind you,

It felt like a huge joke, like a fuck you. The beautiful scenery of the estate, the birds chirping and the world still spinning, and you're there, hugging your own body while you silently weep ahead of him.

He doesn't start the car when he gets in. He stares ahead, sick to his stomach at the sound of your cries. His eyes glued to the steering wheel, his peripheral catches you shifting to lean your temple against the window. The car was hot, sitting out in this sun. Hot enough to burn you once your elbow touches a belt buckle but the heat felt trivial. Javier glances at the map, prepared to drive back into New Orleans and extend their weekend, take you away for more days. Allow you to be detached for some more time, this was far too much for you.

“I want to go home Javi.” You whisper between tears, “It was…dumb of me to look for a family out here.”

There it was again, your eagerness for a complete family. For someone to see you, understand your pain, he heard you beyond that door. He heard you talk about being left alone, celebrating holidays with only yourself. He heard you begging for sympathy from your own blood from your own family. He heard your voice so small when you begged him to see you as his own child, as his own family.

Javier panics, he’s so overcome with emotion he isn't sure he has the words to comfort you. He can't get out what he's tried to tell you all weekend. You will always have a family with him, you no longer have to search. But it doesn't come out from his mouth.

Instead, he reaches his hand over to you and between his thumb and his pointer he rubs the earring he gifted you. The earring, the reminder. Without words he tells you, I’ve got you. He watched you the past two days rub the thing as a nervous tick, he sees your brows furrow and your chin quiver once more before you cave and lean your head against his hand. Your cries regulate and calm with each pass of his thumb against the delicate little bee in your ear. Javier watches you with blurred eyes and he remembers meeting you for the first time. He remembers putting bandages on your knees and peeling oranges for you and diving into lakes and biking, and blushing and kissing and leaving. And And And,

“Andrea, I really, really love you.”

#javier peña #javier peña x ofc #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier peña smut #ao3 #fanfic #javier peña narcos #javier pena x reader

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dathomirdumpsterfire · 1 year ago

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Chat writes the plot! Time for more 👑🐲🐟 KotD!

(I realize we might have to retcon a bit if the vote goes certain ways, but I didn't want to limit you guys. Have fun, go nuts, describe to everyone your perfect stewjon head canon, no matter how unique!)

Want to be on the tag list? Have an idea for next chapter? Clicked the wrong option? Reblog or Comment! New? Check the very bottom for the Ao3 link. Latest chapter is down below the cut!🔥

~King of the Dragonfish: Chapter 8~

Not far from the cave system, in the opposite direction of the geothermal vents, is a living grave. Every now and again one of Naboo's massive oceanic beasts meets it's end to natural causes, and sinks into the deep. Here, new life is born.

This particular corpse of a ketho whale has been here longer than Maul has, and with it's slothful rate of decomposition, it may very well be here after he's gone. The deep water chill keeps the body all but frozen, as the mound of it feeds billions of tiny lives. Starfish, squid, shrimp, eels, octopus, crab, manta, and more. No other places in the deep sea have as much variety of life as the grave mounds do.

To Darth Maul, this place is his personal grocery store.

“Hmmm,” the sith hums, floating upside-down and perusing the options.

His favorite are the shrimp. Individual mouthfuls that crunch pleasantly. But can a Kenobi eat a shrimp? He knuckles his forehead, trying hard to remember. So much of Before was lost to him. The jedi was... human? Possibly?

…did humans eat shrimp?

He couldn't recall.

Annoyed, he makes a note to demand answers, later, and gathers a sampling for now. The brown tree fruit… whatever it was called… the inside was not nourishing enough to survive on, he knew that much.

With a sweep of the force the sith lord selects his victims. A few plush crabs, half a colony of little blue shrimp, a few colorful yellow and black fish that he knew tasted buttery and sweet, with a long eel-

He recalls, suddenly, eating barbeque eel on… on… the home place. The red world, with swamps and cliffs.

Maul catches two more eels, wondering if he can make them taste like… before. Perhaps he would cook his food for once? Some of this would need to be heated for the jedi to even stomach it. Probably.

With his catch writhing and confused in an intangible net of force, the dragonfish sith turns back for the warren of caves and tunnels.

He arrives to find the jedi in just his pants and sleeveless vest, busily rinsing his inner tunics with fruit water. His much abused leather boots were clean and shiney nearby, still wet.

Maul sloughs himself up onto land, dragging dinner up with him.

“Will that not simply make your robes sticky?” he questions the other man, skeptical of the tactic.

“They're not ripe, so they're not sweet in the slightest. I'm hoping…” Kenobi shrugs, “it's an experiment. I suppose we shall see.”

“Mnh.”

The jedi stands, turning to him while wringing out the excess fluid. “What have you got there?”

Grinning, Maul tosses the panoply of pissed off sea creatures at him. “Catch.”

The noise Kenobi makes when he takes eel to the face brings such joy to him.

The creatures scrabble for safety as the jedi backflips further away from them. “Wha! Pfss- guh- MAUL!”

Wheezing with mirth, Maul recollects his catch, and presses them all on the surface of the magma rock to boil them dead.

Kenobi looks on in horror, speechless.

After a brief grilling, Maul piles the results together at the base of the slowly deforming orb, and curls up beside it to begin eating. He picks up an eel first, of course, interested to see if the cooking would make it taste like barbeque.

It does not.

It is still good though.

The jedi lays out his clothes to dry and approaches, one hand tucked into an elbow, the other cradling his chin. He mutters, “... at least it was quick,” then clears his throat before speaking up. “Is any of that for me, or was the food throwing just to be for your own entertainment?”

“It is not my fault you cannot follow simple instructions, Kenobi, but yes. Eat what you will," Maul offers, smug.

The man sinks down onto the stone floor, watchful, and starts poking through the options.

Stupid jedi. Doing something now when he is expecting it would be boring and predictable. He will wait until the other man's guard is lowered before tormenting him again. Obviously.

“Tell me, Kenobi, did the tree fruit satisfy your thirst?” he asks, popping a shrimp in his mouth and smashing it with a crunch of his many excellent teeth.

“The coconuts? Yes… thank you. The pile will last me a few days," the man returns.

Coconuts. They are called coconuts. Of course.

Kenobi picks up an eel, handling it's rubbery length with a disgruntled look. “... I don't suppose I could have a small knife? Temporarily? I need to cut this to cook it properly.”

Maul squints at him. “You are lying, jedi.”

The man huffs, holding the limp eel up, “I am not. This is an entire eel, and not a small one either. I need to remove the guts, and filet it, then grill the slices.”

“Why would you remove the guts? The organs are the best part,” he says, even more certain that Kenobi was simply making things up.

The jedi makes a face, “Hardly.”

They glare at each other for a moment before Kenobi looks away, scowling. “Fine, I shall just… eat something else.”

Maul watches him gather up the thin black and yellow fish, and levitate them on top of the rock. He… just leaves them there. For minutes. The cave starts to smell different because of it.

“Your fish is burning, jedi,” he tells the man.

“No it isn't,” Kenobi replies.

Maul rises up on the coil of his tail, looming at something like nine feet tall to peer over top of the rock and look at the crisping bodies. They aren't any more black than before, but they are turning colors.

“They are becoming brown…”

“Good,” the man says, nonsensically.

With the force, Kenobi flips them without getting up to look. The underside is significantly more brown.

The dragonfish sith sloughs back down to the floor, thoughtful. This was cooking… he had cooked, before, many times. This was right, yes… meat turned colors. It… denatured the proteins.

He doesn't know what ‘denatured’ means anymore, but the word itself remains. Maul scowls, trying to poke at the idea.

He looks up at Kenobi, “How… denatured do you need to make… the protein… to make it edible for… humans?”

The other man hums, calling the crispy fish dinner down to himself, but holding it midair for a moment as it dissipates heat. “For humans? Oh, well, I suppose it depends on their immune system. Anakin likes everything mostly raw… but I've known others that wouldn't touch anything uncooked unless it was a plant.”

Ahah. ‘their’. Kenobi was not a human himself then.

“... and your kind?” Maul asks.

“Hmm… I suppose I prefer my own dinner well done, if only for the result of warm, spiced food,” he says, and brings one of the fish closer to himself to begin nibbling. He makes a face at it. “Mng… of which this is not. I'm glad you've brought back scaleless fish, but the flavor does leave something to be desired.”

“You are lucky I feed you at all,” he tells the fool, sneering.

Kenobi sighs, “I suppose anything is better than starving. Though I would really prefer a pan, oil, and some spice to go with it, even just salt…”

Maul gives him a look.

He scoffs. “Yes yes, I know, stop making that face at me. Beggars can't be choosers, I know.”

They eat until both are full, Maul devouring considerably more than Kenobi. He dumps the extras back into the water. The remains might attract future snacks.

“Well, sith,” the jedi says from his spot beside the magma ball, “what now? I'm fed, I'm watered, I'm warm. For the moment, I'm not dying. What are you going to do with me? Torture?”

Maul grins as he returns from throwing the extra away. “Are you excited at the prospect?”

“Certainly not,” Kenobi drawls, crossing his arms.

The dragonfish sith sways closer, passing him by. The other man clearly doesn't want him at his back, so the motion forces him to turn. As Maul circles, Kenobi keeps turning to face him.

Exactly as intended.

With the jedi's attention on his face, all the way turned around from where they began, Maul draws the end of his tail up to whip at the back of Kenobi’s calves.

The jedi makes a little hop, predicting his flanking attack with the force, but he still turns to look behind him. His mistake. Maul takes that opportunity to close the distance, getting a grip on the front of beige vests. Kenobi spins back around, arms shoving outward defensively.

One of his palms slams into Maul’s sensitive gills, painfully, making the sith snarl and take a snap at the offending limb.

Kenobi tries to tumble backwards, to get away from him, but the grip on his clothes is only joined by a tail curling behind his knees, dragging the jedi in.

The prey in his grip fights him, skilled in the force and so much more interesting to subdue than the mindless wildlife outside.

Kenobi works an elbow free, and tries slamming it point first into the tail spiraling about his hips. Maul barely feels it, but he starts trying to capture that free hand all the same. While he's on that, the jedi side steps his tail, and then drops his weight heavily while pushing downward with the force.

Maul loses hold on him entirely.

The jedi folds, rolls, and does half a cartwheel, kicking him in the arm. Then he falls backwards to gain space. The sith gives him none, closing the distance again and snatching at his ankle as the other man spins away. He misses, and has to try two more grabs before he gets a hold of an elbow with a gleeful noise of success.

Kenobi attempts to bite him, with his human-similar jaw and his flat white teeth. How precious. The dragonfish sith giggles, and nips at the air near his fingers. The jedi recoils, desperate to protect the digits of his sword arm, sending a gale of force into Maul so strong it sends him toppling over backwards.

Unfortunately for the other man, he's got a good grip on Kenobi’s arm, so they both go over backwards.

Maul cackles as they fall.

Kenobi bellows.

They tussle on the floor like it's just any old bar brawl for the better part of ten minutes, until -finally- Maul's sheer tonnage and more than a dozen feet of solid muscle wins the fight for him, yet again.

He bears down on his prisoner, grinning with all his many teeth as the man cries out in pain.

“Weak jjjedi,” he croons, so close to Kenobi’s face that the green glow of his eyes illuminates both of their expressions. “I am beginning to think our first battle was a fluke. You cannot seem to best me.”

The jedi struggles under him, trying to get any limb free, fighting for every inch. “It's not my fault you weigh as much as a bantha!”

“Oh? But you like my weight.”

Kenobi shifts left, trying to wriggle his way out of the hold. “What in the blazes makes you think that?”

Maul hisses in amusement. “You roam in your sleep, jedi. You came to me many times last night, seeking my scales and burrowing into me.”

The man underneath him makes a horrified face, his efforts to escape stalling. “I did not!”

Maul lolls to the side, laying beside him instead of on top, pulling those pale hands to his chest and pressing the palms over his hearts. His long black tail curls up and over the man's legs. “Does this position not ring any bells, Kenobi?”

Blue eyes stare down at his hands, at the red and black that peek through his fingers. “...”

Delighted by the other man's emotional upheaval, and the way it made the force around them feel, Maul pushes the gambit a little further.

“How about if I do… this?” he says, sacrificing a hand to bring Kenobi's body closer to his, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, affectionately. “Are you going to nuzzle me again, I wonder? Going to curl up on my chest and drool?”

“No!” the jedi exclaims, shimmying backward.

Maul allows it and watches him with an inviting look, finding that this little facet of Kenobi’s fear was… particularly entertaining.

“Oh? But you slept so well, did you not?” he accuses.

Kenobi covers his eyes with a hand. “It's… it's nothing to do with you. I simply sleep better when…”

“Held?” Maul croons.

The jedi growls, without answering. Delightful.

Maul snickers, playfully snapping his teeth near the other man's neck. Kenobi turtles, glaring at him. “Would you quit that? I know you're not going to actually bite me. I'd be dead in minutes, and that would ruin all your bloody fun wouldn't it?”

The sith draws back humming. The rage in Kenobi’s eyes is… pleasing. Anger is good. He understands.

“Hnnn… I offer you a trade,” he says sweetly.

The jedi's struggles calm, and he stops ducking into such a hilarious and pathetic little ball, but his expression remains pure suspicion. “It's hardly a trade if I'm coerced into it while disarmed and bound,” he complains.

“Do you think I care?” Maul asks him pleasantly.

Kenobi huffs. “Fine. What's your trade, sith?”

“I will promise not to bite your neck, or near it, if you tell me of your species. At length.”

The jedi blinks, slowly, waiting with an expectant air. Maul raises a brow at him.

“You… want to know about… stewjoni?” the man asks, baffled.

“Yessss,” the dragonfish sith assures.

He is missing too many pieces of Before. The jedi will serve him, as prisoner and informant.

🔥🔥 don't forget to reblog tysm! 🔥🔥

-Tag list- (Comment if you want added!)

@obimaulartfire @savageopressbignaturals @icequeen8043 @moonsickvampire @maulish

New? Start from Chapter 1! 👇🏽

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streets-in-paradise · 2 years ago

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Where Are All the Gods? - Thor x (Fem) Quill!Reader/ Loki x (Fem) Quill!Reader

Word Count 1.7 K

Warnings: MCU styled standard pop culture references ( the reader is Star-Lord’s twin so...)

Summary: Loki has an excentric neigbor in the dungeons of the asgardian palace that quickly catches the attention of Thor during one of his visits. She seems to have a past that resonates with their own experiences and the god of mischief keeps himself skeptical about the veracity of her saids, but his adoptive brother is willing to listen her.

Notes: For the sake of this, let’s pretend Thor visited Loki at least once before the prision break that happened during the invasion of the dark elves.

Tags: @nocturnest @spngingerbread21

The prince of Asgard was in the dungeons for an informal visit to his brother. Nothing obliged him to do it, he told himself many times that he was going to give up on him. However, actually putting that idea to practice wasn’t easy because he still cared for Loki despite stumbling with his hate over and over again. Thor only wanted to make him company for a while fearing that the extreme isolation would make him even more deranged and there weren’t many others willing to make the visits. No one else, only him and the queen had some amount of attachment to him.

It didn’t take long for him to regret coming, as soon as the sarcastical verbal aggressions started. The situation progressively escalated into one more of their classical fights.

“ You are pathetic, as much of a simplistic sentimentalist as the species you adore so much.” Loki was rambling his hate away. “ Can’t you see that you need of me more than I have ever needed you? You are here for yourself, Thor.”

The god of thunder wasn’t listening anymore. Not only was the reproach old, but a noise in the background was catching his attention. One that Loki got used to after many days hoping to learn how to ignore it. A mindless environmental inconvenience that didn’t justify the use of magic, but was enough to annoy him pretty frequently.

You were singing in the cell right in front of his, acting like you would have been ignoring the argument when in fact you have been pendant of every word because you were bored. Extremely bored, and Loki wasn’t a very chatty neighbor. Singing to yourself for hours was a coping mechanism to keep your sanity, but also an easy way to get attention whenever possible. Even if it would start with him yelling at you to shut up, he would have to talk with you. Annoying the two asgardians into paying attention to you seemed more fun than being passively exposed to their family drama.

“ That the walls were shaking, the Earth was quaking “ You sang as if you would be back fooling around with Peter. “ My mind was aching and we were making it … “

Thor turned back following the direction of the sound and Loki was even more infuriated than usual when he realized you created a successful distraction midway into his venting.

“ Mind to give us a minute? I have been FORCED TO HEAR YOU for the ENTIRE DAY!!”

“ Your song… “ His adoptive brother inquired with unstoppable curiosity. “ I think I have heard it before.”

“ No way! The son of Odin is into AC/DC? Things are getting crazy!” You answered with excitement. “ … And you shook me all night long …”

You sang a little bit more into the short chorus and brought to him the needed realization.

“ STARK! That’s a song he likes,” He cheered the awakening of his musical memory.” it was hard to decipher without the music. This is outstanding, Loki! I think your companion of imprisonment must be from Midgard.”

“ Curious detail, it must be part of the punishment. Her constant singing will drive me insane.”

It was your opportunity to properly engage in their conversation and you didn’t waste it.

“ Hey, god of thunder and rock and roll! I heard you protect people from Earth. Would your code of honor make you be my lawyer? Spending quality time with your maniac brother has been fun, but I really need a way out of this.”

“ Excuse me, but even as a prince of Asgard I can’t interfere with a verdict given by the Allfather.” Thor calmly informed you. “ I fail to understand how a human found such an unlucky fate.”

Loki bursted into laughter.

“ Wait until you hear it, she has broken all human measurements for stupidity. It’s humiliating to serve sentence close to someone like her.”

“ You underestimate everyone the same way you overestimate yourself.” The son of Odin recalled. “ Which was your crime, midgardian lady?”

“ Theft.” You simply explained. “ I tried to take a valuable piece from the asgardian treasure.”

Loki’s demeanor was intimating you to give a complete confession.

“ Tell him which of the many artifacts in the palace was the target of your greed.”

You hesitated, then replied.

“ Odin’s Gungnir, the only thing this place holds that’s almost as valuable as your untouchable Mjolnir. Nothing personal, I just wanted it for its worth. I’m not planning to use it to destroy a planet like this one did with an Infinity Stone.”

It wasn’t precisely what Thor expected to hear and it raised even more questions.

“ The objects you mention are beyond the reach of any mortal, it makes no sense. Not even hearing the name of my hammer angers me because I am aware you would have never accomplished such an impossible heist.”

“ Did you sincerely think you were going to steal the most heavily guarded weapon in Asgard and walk out harmless?” Loki followed, the airs of superiority in his tone quickly increasing. “ You were imprisoned by your own moronic recklessness. Why did you want it, in the first place? The palace is brimming with treasures that are easier to obtain, heading for the spear of Odin is like screaming to the guards to lock you in a cell for the rest of your life.”

“ The client I got only pays for unique shit, Loki! He is not interested in a golden statue from your banquet hall.”

Thor witnessed the altercation with amusement. Insulting people to entertain himself in endless arguments was the closest Loki was to making friends.

“ If you ask me, that feels to me more like desperation than foolishness. “ He added in your defense. “ Not so long ago I thought myself capable of successfully invading Jotunheim all on my own because desperation to prove myself made me commit a reckless mistake.”

You showed him a half smile that Loki noticed with annoyance.

“ Nobody asked you, Thor. You shouldn’t even be here. “

The blond ignored him and gave a few steps closer to your cell.

“ From one desperate fool to another.. May I ask for the motivation behind yours? ”

Thor was soft spoken and sweet, so you found no problem in opening up just a bit to him.

“ My brother, I did it for him. For both of us, we want to start over away from the asshole who raised us.”

“ You have be kidding me!” Loki interrupted with frustration. “ Are you going to believe her? She is clearly trying to manipulate you using what she has learned by listening to us against you.”

“ I’m not, I swear. This is all a great irony. “ You defended yourself right away. “ Your pity is useless, you can’t get me out, so why would I lie to you? I do have a brother I love, Peter is all I have. It’s always the two of us against the universe, no one else cares for us... Well, Kraglin does, but the point is that we don’t fit in where we are. I wanted to make that sale so we would have enough to make it alone without having to worry. The man who raised us made us thiefs, it’s the only life we know since he stole us from our home as children.”

“ Is that the addition you make meant to move my emotions?” Loki mocked you with cold skepticism. “ Now is when I’m supposed to empathize with the tragedy of those who suffered from my fate. Let me be the first one telling you that you fail as a liar as you have failed as a criminal, your tale is unrealistic. The stealing of midgardian children serves no useful purpose. “

“ Sneaky advantages ideal for stealing.” You corrected him. “ We were smaller than most alien kids and if you would have read The Hobbit, you would know that little people make excellent burglars. Instead of a company of thirteen dwarves at our doorstep asking us to join for an adventure, my brother and I got kidnapped by the forty thieves of Ali Baba.”

Neither of them understood what you were trying to exemplify, but their confusion was fun to see.

“ Fate mocking us because Pete and I have the kind of bond you two never had is out of my control. “ Was your honest conclusion. “ How about having a few counseling sessions to pass time? Thor can come once a week and I can help you solve your problems. I failed as a criminal, but I’m good at being a sister for my bro.”

It was a subtle invalidating point for Loki’s insults that you delivered flawlessly

“ I refuse, I don’t need advice from an inferior creature. “

“ Then why are you here? If humans are so inferior, why aren’t you ruling us? We are cellblock mates because you failed as a dictator, you are a loser doomed to hear me. “

Thor stifled a chuckle to avoid making things worse.

“ You are not the worst company that can be found in this prison. Loki doesn't appreciate it, but he should.”

You exaggerated a lovely expression receiving the neutral compliment.

“ Thank you, Thor! He doesn’t value me in the slightest. Would you keep coming to visit me? I can tell you many awesome things about Earth if you want.”

Loki rolled his eyes, avoiding looking at you.

“ Don’t waste your time, he already has a midgardian and she isn’t a constant source of annoyance like you are.”

To his brother’s disgust,Thor felt comfortable with you. Your ways reminded him a bit of Darcy, quite funny and nice to be around. He was also curious about your story, which you began to tell but didn’t finish.

“ It would be my pleasure.” He answered directly to you, ignoring the insidious side commentary. “ The eloquent and heartfelt way in which you speak of your brother is a comfort for my troubled mind and I would like to learn more about midgardian traditions to surprise my friends.”

The agreement was sealed sharing polite smiles, then Thor turned back to face Loki.

“ See you soon, try to be a nicer companion.”

As he was heading out he could still hear the usual bickering between prisoners restarting.

“ Where have all the good men gone and where are all the gods?” You were singing once more.“ Where’s the streetwise Hercules to fight the raisin odds?”

“ SHUT UP!!”

“ Don’t you like it? Too bad, it's from Peter’s favorite movie. Do you know how many times he made me watch it? I know it by heart so get ready.”

#mcu imagines #thor odinson #loki laufeyson #thor odinson x reader #loki laufesyon x reader #thor x reader #loki x reader

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