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avatarmerida · 2 years ago

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Sweet Things

Writing pointless huntlow fluff in preparation for For The Future, indulge me.

---

“Wow Willow, you really went all out with the florals!” Luz exclaimed as she opened the door for the plant witch and her impressive selection of dahlias in every possible color.

“Thanks!” Willow said brightly, setting them down to go prepare a vase. “They reminded me of your mom’s tablecloth I found in the hall closet so I thought it would be a fun addition to our special dinner for tonight!”

“It’ll be like an explosion of color!” Luz exclaimed, examining the colorful folded fabric Willow had placed on the counter. “We haven’t gotten to use that tablecloth in awhile, it’s got a huge rip on the side from when I tried to use it as a parachute.”

“Oh, I didn’t even notice,” said Willow, making a mental note to ask about that story later on. “Well, I bet Hunter could fix it.” She finished filling the case with water and called out to the next room. “Hey, hon?”

“Yes?” Came Hunter’s voice, quickly followed by him sticking his head in the doorway.

“Do you think you could fix the tear in the table cloth for me? I wanna make the table look fancy and it matches the flowers I made for the center piece perfectly.”

“Of course!” Hunter said brightly, walking over to take the fabric from the counter. He gathered some sewing supplies from the drawer in the kitchen and set up at the kitchen table as he accessed the work that needed to be done.

“Yay! Thanks so much,” said Willow with a smile, placing the flowers in the vase and admiring the presentation. “I’m gonna go finish up some things outside then I’ll be back to help set the table.”

As Hunter and Willow went to carry on with their tasks, Luz said at the counter wondering if she had misheard Willow. As Hunter focused on his repair work, Luz looked at him with confusion as though an explanation was in order. After a minute, he looked up to find her eye on him and offered her his own look of confusion. “What?”

“Willow just called you ‘hon.’” She stated as though he wasn’t aware.

“Yeah?” he said, not seeing her point. “It’s short for Hunter, like Hun-ter.”

“Are you sure it’s not short for ‘honey?”

“I mean, she calls me that sometimes too,” he said nonchalantly. “But, I guess that’s not technically short for Hunter since it’s the same amount of syllables.”

“Hunter, Willow is not calling you honey because it’s short for Hunter.”

“I know, I just said it’s the same amount-.”

“No dude, I think she means honey likes actual honey.”

Well, maybe? I guess it’s probably because my hair is yellow which is the same color as honey.” Hunter reasoned. “I mean, her palisman is a bee so it makes sense she would know a decent amount about that.”

“Hmmm maybe,” said Luz, not convinced. “But I think it’s because she thinks you’re so sweet just like honey.” She reached out to pinch his cheek and used the baby voice she would speak to King with. “Aww, look at you! Willow’s widdle honey baby boy.”

“Stop that!” he said, turning his face away from her. “It’s probably just because she really likes bees-.”

“Or because she really likes yoooou.” said Luz, not convinced or willing to be wrong about this. “Alot of people call someone honey when they’re, ya know, more than friend.”

The tips of Hunter’s ears turned bright red at the suggestion.

“W-w-well that’s just silly!” He said, not sounding like he believed his own words. “I’ve never heard you and Amity call each other that!”

“No, but she calls me her batata which means sweet potato,” said Luz.

“Do... all terms of endearment have to be food related?”

“I mean, I guess not?” said Luz. “But honey is a pretty common one.”

“What are... other common ones?” Said Hunter clearing his throat, trying to seem like he was focused on his sewing and internally hyperventilating about how oblivious he possibly was.

“Whyyyy?” Asked Luz with a smirk that seemed to read his mind.

“No reason, just curious,” he lied, as there very much was a reason.

“I dunno like ‘sweetie’ I guess?” Luz racked her mind for a list of examples.

Hunter squeaked. Luz looked over and saw he had stabbed himself with a needle, as though something about what she said had distracted him.

She gave a little gasp. “Does she call you sweetie?” Luz asked, raising her eyebrow.

“Sometimes?”

“Hunter!”

“She calls me a lot of things!” He said, sucking on the tip of the finger he has stabbed. “I mean, okay, she calls me flower names-.”

“What? Like what?!”

“She calls me daffodil, sometimes...” Hunter said quietly, the redness from his ears spreading to the rest of his face. “And like, sunflower I guess. But it’s not-.”

“Well you can’t deny that Willow loves flowers,” teased Luz with a smirk. ”Awww, are you her little flower?”

“Wellmaybeiamandyourejustjealous.” Hunter mumbled quickly and almost too quietly.

“What was that?” Luz joyfully inquired.

“Maybe I am and you’re just jealous,” repeated Hunter, not looking at her as he tried to focus on threading his needle. “I mean, you can’t expect me to believe that Willow doesn’t give nicknames to anyone else.”

“There’s a difference between a nickname and a term of endearment.”

That much Hunter did know. He knew what titles commanded respect and which ones were meant to ridicule. The only other nicknames he had received had been negative or ironic, two things Willow was definitely not towards him. He knew the nicknames she gave him came from a place of admiration, but he never dared to dream that it was such a... unique admiration.

“So like, someone would use these terms for someone they... liked?” Hunter asked carefully.

“More than just liked.” Luz said. “Like, liked-liked.”

“Sometimes like which times?” Hunter asked urgently. “Like, is it possible it’s just a coincidence and it’s just purely platonic because Willow just has a vast knowledge of plants that resemble my hair color?”

“I mean, some people use them that way, yeah,” said Luz trying to hide the delight she took in Hunter’s panicked expression. “But I’ve never heard Willow call anyone else ‘honey.’ In fact, I think that’s what her dads call each other. Ya know, her dads who are in looove.”

“So that could be... why.” Hunter said slowly, unable to deny that it made sense. Unable to deny that he was kind of glad that it did.

“Do you have any nicknames for her?” Luz asked, putting her hand under her chin as she took delight in watching Hunter process this new possibility.

“I mean, I call her Captain but that’s more her title than a nickname,” said a Hunter, searching his mind. “Should I have one for her?”

“I mean, if you want to, yeah,” said Luz. “It’s not like a requirement or anything but it could be a cute way to let her know that you like her too.”

“I’m not... very good nicknames,” admitted Hunter and Luz noted happily that he did not deny the implication that he liked Willow. “Most of the ones I've given have had more literal connotations and not in a nice way. And I’ve never really had a reason to use a term of endearment, what are some good ones?”

“My dude, you’ve come to the right place,” assured Luz, pulling out her phone where she kept a list in her notes for just such an occasion.

Hunter sat at the table looking down at his hands as he practiced what he wanted to say in his head. When Willow walked through the door he stood up, holding the folded tablecloth close to his chest as she reentered the kitchen, trying to seem relaxed.

“Oh, uh hi!” He said as though he had not been waiting for her to return. He held the result of his labor out to her. “I finished the tablecloth. Good as new.”

“Oh no, it’s even better!” She smiled, taking it from him to admire the skillful repair. She unfolded it and twirled around the kitchen with it like she had just been given a gown for the ball. “Now it’s got that special Hunter touch, thanks so much buttercup!”

“Of course!” He said, taking the use of the word as a sign to test the waters. “Anytime... babe.”

Willow stopped spinning as her ears perked at the word and she quickly turned her head from admiring the craftsmanship to looking at him in slight disbelief. “What did you say?”

Hunter gulped. Maybe she really just hadn’t heard him?

“I said, uh, anytime babe.” He repeated quicker, leaning against the doorframe hoping it sounded more natural this time as he landed the sentiment with finger guns. He tried not to linger on the word so it wouldn’t seem like her was trying so hard but he did want her to notice so she would notice that he noticed that she-

“Oh, yeah,” Willow cleared her throat. “That’s uh, that’s what I thought you said.” Her voice seemed labored, as though she was trying to adjust her breathing. “Well, uh thanks again... uh Hunter.”

Just Hunter? No marigold? No honey? Not even dandelion? Titan, he had ruined everything! Why had he listened to Luz? Willow hadn’t been calling him those things because she liked him more than a friend! She was just being creative!

“Of course, of course,” he said, now seeing it was his turn to steady his breathing. “Maybe we should uh, start setting up the table? Camila will be back with the take out soon.”

“Yeah, I wonder if we’ll need any sugar.” Willow pondered, still learning when sugar was needed and when salt was meant to be put out.

“Any what?” Hunter asked as though she had not finished her thought.

Willow looked at him with a raised eyebrow before she understood what he thought he had heard her say. “Oh no, I meant actual sugar, like for the table.” Willow clarified, a soft crimson dancing across the bridge of her nose as she realized he had a reason to be confused; she had called him that numerous times.

“Right, right yes of course,” said Hunter, embarrassed trying to look busy as he fetched the plates from the higher cabinet. “But um would you... like if we put sugar on the table? Like, would you say that you... like sugar?”

“Well yeah, I like sweet things,” she said as she gathered the forks and knives. She looked across the table at him, meticulously placing the plates an even distance from each other. Clover flew over and sat atop his head, resting peacefully like Hunter was the sweetest smelling flower she had ever come across. Hunter was so used to this action by now that it did not deter his focus and he subconsciously reached up and scratched her head with his finger and the palisman nuzzled against it affectionately. “You of all people should know that.”

#huntlow #winter toh #toh #willow park #hunter toh #the owl house

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kingreywrites · 4 years ago

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Tradition

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 2624

New Dream Appreciation Week Day One: The Day of Hearts

Summary: "Hey Blondie," Eugene said quietly. She looked down at him as he turned around a little to face her more comfortably. "What do you think about… You know, this whole tradition about signing Herz Der Sonne's diary to celebrate your love?"

Note: not my fav fic for this week, but I hope you’ll like it!!

Read on ao3

@gleamful-lanterns @autumn-ravenclaw

-1-

Sat cross-legged on Eugene's bed, Rapunzel was scribbling intensely on the list of activities she was making to convince Cass that a double date with her and Eugene was the best thing ever, adding little doodles everywhere to support her arguments. Eugene, for his part, was lying down lengthwise on his bed next to her, head and shoulders sticking out. He was tracing mindless patterns on the floorboards under him, looking thoroughly bored.

"Hey Eugene?" she asked suddenly, pencil in her mouth.

"Yes?"

"An activity of swimming together under the stars, yay or nay?"

"Nay," he grunted.

"Really? Why?"

"The water's cold, and Cassandra in it would make it freezing," he grumbled, looking up to see her frown. "Hey, the water really is cold. Plus, this Andrew guy and Cass only just met in person, maybe it's a little too soon to put on swimsuits in front of each other for them."

Rapunzel pondered on that for a second, before nodding. Swimming would have to wait for another double date. She hoped the fifty-six other activities she had planned would be enough to compensate. This was so exciting, she thought with a grin, already fantasising about how great it would be to do all of these things with Eugene, while Cassandra could do them with Andrew.

"Hey Blondie," Eugene said quietly. She looked down at him as he turned around a little to face her more comfortably. "What do you think about… You know, this whole tradition about signing Herz Der Sonne's diary to celebrate your love?"

She beamed at him, forgetting her list for a second as she thought back on the story Big Nose told them not so long ago. "It's so romantic! I love the idea that, for generations, couples signed this book, and that their love will forever live through it!"

"I do too," Eugene answered with a soft smile. He opened his mouth, about to say something, but she didn't notice because right at this instant, an idea struck her.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, lightening up visibly.

"Oh?" he parroted.

"Do you think Cass and Andrew are gonna sign the diary together? That would be adorable!" she squeaked, bending down to add book signing on the list. Oh, she was so impatient for this date - she just needed to get Cassandra's permission, but with so many fun things to do together, how could she say no?

When she looked back towards Eugene, he seemed to have deflated, and was looking at the ground again.

"Are you okay?"

He hummed, before grumbling: "You know, the Herz Der Sonne's diary is for really serious couples. Like, those that think that they're gonna spend their lives together, that kind of deal."

"Ah… And you think Cass isn't ready for that?"

"I- urgh," he groaned, "forget it."

She hesitated, sensing there was something more here, something she wasn't understanding. Gently, she put her hand in Eugene's hair and brushed it away, and he raised his head again to give her an honest and loving smile. She smiled back hesitantly, but he didn't add anything. After a few seconds, she decided to keep making her list of activities.

Just for Eugene, she added a couple manucure, knowing how much he loved these things.

-2-

There were a lot of cool things to do on the road - and a lot of less cool things too, like being in charge of the laundry day. Rapunzel had to admit, though there were plenty of tasks she actually enjoyed doing, laundry was… not one of them. It got her hair wet, and it took a long time to dry, and when she arrived in the castle, she had absolutely no trouble giving up on that.

On the road, though, there weren't many options. Thankfully, Eugene offered his help, so now they were both sitting near the river early in the morning, scrubbing clothes together in peaceful silence.

"Sunshine?"

"Mmh?"

"Do you know what today is?" he asked, meeting her eyes quickly before focusing back on the pants in his hands.

"Monday?"

"No I mean- the day today is, it's special."

Rapunzel frowned, trying to remember what Eugene was talking about. She knew it wasn't anyone's birthday, because if there was one thing she learned religiously, it was birthdays. It wasn't any day significant for their relationship either, she knew those by heart too. If Eugene thought she knew it, it had to be from Corona, so…

"Oh! You're right, it's Corona's annual pie eating contest!"

"Ah… no I think that's next week actually."

"Hmm." She put her hand on her chin, trying to think. "Is it 'share with your neighbour' day?"

"Uh… I think that was last week?" he answered hesitantly.

"... are you talking about the day of the snakes? Pascal's really not a fan of this one."

"We have a-- Corona really does have too many celebrations, doesn't it?" he groaned, but he seemed amused anyway, so she laughed.

They did have a day for everything, it felt. She didn't take part in all of them, but she loved learning about these traditions, and she loved even more seeing people enjoy themselves and having fun. Her favourite celebrations were the ones that were beloved by all of Corona, like the Gopher Grab, or-

"The Day of Hearts!" she exclaimed triumphantly, beaming when Eugene nodded. "Today is the Day of Hearts! Aww, I can't believe we're missing it, I'm sure people are having so much fun today!"

"I'm sure they are," Eugene agreed easily, looking back down at the clothing he was still washing. "And, uh, I-"

"I hope my parents are having a good day," Rapunzel said, a little quieter. She knew how much they loved that day, and thinking about it made her miss them more than usual.

Eugene cleared his voice, bringing back her attention to him. "Blondie, I was thinking… Maybe we could organise our own Day of Hearts? Here? Of course it won't be the same but-"

"Eugene, you are a GENIUS!" she jumped to her feet, too full of excitement all of the sudden. "This is the best idea ever, this is gonna be so fun!"

"I have my moments," he grinned, looking proud of himself. "So, what do you wanna do for our Day of Hearts?"

"Apple bobbing," Rapunzel announced without an ounce of hesitation.

"Of c- wait, what? Apple bobbing?"

She nodded eagerly. "I didn’t get to do it last year, what with Andrew turning out to be… Well, you know. I really wanted to, though, and I swore to myself that I would do it next year, which is today!"

"But you played that game in Corona already."

"Not on the Day of Hearts! It wasn't the full experience. Ah, and I'm sure Lance and Hookfoot will find it fun too, plus you know how Max is with apples," she said with amusement.

"Ah." Eugene seemed a lot quieter. "You want everyone to participate."

"Of course!" she sat down again to finish the laundry, a new energy in her actions. The quicker they did that, the quicker they could start. "That's really an amazing idea Eugene, I can't wait!"

He smiled, but it looked a little weird to her. It wasn't the proud and happy smile he had only minutes earlier. "I'm glad you like it, Sunshine."

"I love it, really," she insisted.

Eugene's smile seemed a little more genuine after that. And he actually had fun too during the apple bobbing - Rapunzel wasn't sure what he had been disappointed about at first, but she hoped it was resolved.

-3-

Oh, Rapunzel thought one year later, I am an idiot.

She… She had never really considered the idea that Eugene might want to spend the Day of Hearts with her only. She knew it was a day for romance, and couples, but- but she had always seen it as a day for other couples, for some reason.

Even these last days, when Eugene had asked again and again about signing Herz Der Sonne's diary together, she had been more focused on her parents' relationship than anything else. She didn't mind the idea at all, she even wanted to do it, but she didn't feel like it was that important in the grand scheme of things.

Then, King Trevor destroyed the diary. And she had decided to make a new book, thinking that it would be enough, but even now as she was painting the cover, she understood it would never be the same. All these names, these signatures written by people who wanted their love committed to memory, sometimes hundreds of years before today… All of that was gone. And though she liked to think that their love was eternal, and wouldn't be affected by it, she couldn’t help but mourn these lost memories. Corona was what it was now because of these people, and the love they had shared. They didn't deserve to be forgotten.

That line of thought led her to Eugene's insistence that they sign the diary, and suddenly she understood it more - understood the desire for their love to be part of a shared history, a shared tradition. They didn’t need it, but the gesture held a certain significance she hadn’t realised before. With this fact in mind, his behaviour from the previous years made much more sense all of the sudden. The propositions he hadn’t been able to voice, his frustration that he was quick to hide when she mentioned spending the day with other people… Eugene obviously cared about this celebration, and about the meaning it held for their love, and he had wanted… He had wanted to spend time with her, and she hadn’t even noticed. Surveilling her work on the new Book of Hearts, Rapunzel felt a pinch of guilt, but squashed it quickly. She knew Eugene would not blame her for not reading his mind, and instead of wallowing, she could make sure that this time, their love would be her entire focus for the remaining time.

Starting with the Book.

Smiling, she turned the still blank pages, imagining all the new names that would soon fill it. As much as she wished the ancient diary hadn’t been destroyed, she knew that love in Corona still had a bright future, and that these pages would soon be entirely covered by the signatures of couples old and young.

But there was one page she wanted to keep. One page that was for Eugene and her only. There was no hesitation in her mind when she chose the page in the exact middle of the book, because their love was the center of her own universe. Eugene was neither her beginning or her end; he was her entire life, the one holding her pages together. She hoped it was how he saw her too.

Going by the beaming smile he gave her when she gave him a quill, and made them sign the new Book of Hearts together, she’d say she got it right. He held her tightly against himself when they embraced, glowing with a joy she wished she had given him earlier.

She got distracted, after that, by her parents starting to recover their memories. They stayed together all evening, all four of them, just chatting together like they used to do when she first came to the castle - Rapunzel loved it.

When night fell, and her parents retired for the evening, Rapunzel and Eugene went to hang out in her bedroom. His bedroom was full of eggs anyway and, she reasoned, and it was easier for him to sleep in her room than to find an empty one.

This was a logical decision, see, not simply her wanting to cuddle with him all night.

"Hey Eugene? Can I tell you something?" she asked, once she had gotten in her more comfortable nightgown, and he had foregone his jacket and his boots.

"Of course," he smiled, shifting so she could sit next to him. "What's up Blondie?"

"I… I wanted to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't understand how much the Day of Hearts meant to you before, and I'm sorry you felt like you couldn't tell me."

"What? Hey, there's absolutely nothing to be sorry about," he immediately answered, hand going to her cheek.

"Let me explain?" she asked gently, and after a short hesitation, he nodded. "I don't think I did something awful, but I think I didn't pay attention to your feelings on this subject, and I'm sorry for that. The Day of Hearts is…" she paused, trying to find her words. "I think it's an adorable celebration, and I love how much people love it, you know? But I never really- I never related it to our relationship. I care so much more about… the day we met! Or our birthdays, or the day you first gave me flowers, or the day you let me paint on you, or- i think you get it," she chuckled, grabbing a strand of her hair to play with. "I didn’t think you wanted to celebrate the Day of Hearts with me, and only me, and I should have… asked you, instead of assuming."

She grew silent, and Eugene took it at his cue to resume stroking her cheek, eyes soft and somewhat amused.

"Again, I don't feel like you have to say sorry. I never asked you either, and you can't read minds, even mine. I… To be honest, I felt a little bad for caring so much about a day like this one," he chuckled, looking embarrassed. "I didn’t want to admit I'm a sap, I guess."

"That's part of why I love you," Rapunzel grinned. Eugene looked cute when he blushed.

"But also, you're right," Eugene added, an intense honesty to his words. "These moments we shared, they're all so much more important to me than this day will ever be. It's okay, if you prefer to spend the day uh… apple bobbing."

Rapunzel snorted at that, surprised. It wasn't long before they were both laughing, remembering the mess that their "homemade" Day of Hearts had been. Hey, at least it had been a fun day. Maximus had fallen into the river because he had been so excited to grab an apple.

"You know what?" she exclaimed. "Last time, I was the one to choose the activity, so now it's your turn! What do you want to do Eugene?"

"It's nearly midnight," he laughed.

"And? There's still a lot of things we can do at midnight! Oh, we could finally go swimming under the stars-"

"The water will be freezing!"

"You have a point." She put her hands on his knees, bringing her face close to his. "Come on Eugene, there has to be something you want to do!"

"I…" He took a second to think, seriously think, before he said hesitantly: "I wanna dance with you?"

"Oh!" Warmth spread in her chest, and she couldn't contain her excitement at this. "Eugene, I'd love to dance with you!"

She grabbed his hands and made them both stand up next to the bed quickly, linking her fingers with his as they stood close enough for her to hear his soft breathing.

"There's no music, though," he whispered.

As if summoned, Pascal popped his head out of his bed, and played with the little guitar he had on him all day. Just like that, they were laughing, and taking stumbling steps together as they swirled around the room. They were both barefoot, only illuminated by some candles and the moonlight, but they didn't need anything else.

Rapunzel went on her tiptoes to kiss Eugene, and he eagerly returned it, holding onto her waist as they slowly swayed together.

#tangled #Rapunzel #Eugene Fitzherbert #tangled the series #New Dream Appreciation Week

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chloelucia13 · 4 years ago

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Chapter 1: A Sweet Rain

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female!reader

Prompt: Your best friend is getting married, but it seems that you’re the one who got lucky.

Warnings: mostly fluff, language, a little angst, it’s pretty chill

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: So this is going to be the first part of a multi-part series! Enjoy this fluff, because this'll probably be all you’re gonna get out of this series! Anyways, buckle up and I hope you all enjoy! As always, my tag lists and requests are open!

Songs mentioned: “First Day of my Life” by Bright Eyes, “Samson” by Regina Spektor

Tags: @sojournmichael

“Hey Pen, what’s up?” you hummed into your phone, fishing for your keys in your purse.

“Okay, I have big news,” she squealed, and you nearly had to pull the phone from your ear due to the pitch. “Like, really big news. News so big you couldn’t even imagine-”

“Out with it, Penny!” You chuckled before finally finding your keys, unlocking your car door.

“Okay, okay... JJ and Will are getting married!”

“Oh my god!” Your pitch now replicated hers, and your hands started to shake as you sat down in the driver’s seat of your car. “I have to call and congratulate them!”

“NO!”

You jumped at her sudden shout, furrowing your brow in confusion. “Why not?”

“So the thing is... We’re kinda throwing a surprise wedding for them at Rossi’s.”

“What?”

“Okay, so...”

She rattled off the details of exactly what was happening, about how Will was in a near-death situation and how he proposed to her in his hospital room, and how Rossi overheard their plans to just go to the courthouse and decided that he wanted them to have a proper ceremony.

“So, are you coming?” she basically begged after taking a deep breath, winded after her rushed summation of the events that had taken place.

“Of course I’m coming! I’ll help you guys get ready and everything! Just tell me when and where!”

“Okay, so it’s gonna be at Rossi’s mansion tomorrow-”

“Wait, tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” she dragged out. “Sorry it’s short notice. It’s kinda short notice for everyone.”

You let out a silent sigh, licking your lips. “You’re all lucky that it’s my day off.”

***

You were clad in a pair of jeans and a tee shirt when you pulled up to the towering mansion that you were only slightly envious of. With your dress and makeup bag in the back of your car, you locked your doors before following the stone trail that led to the front door of Rossi’s house.

You barely knocked once when the door swung open, revealing an excited and frazzled Penelope. “Thank god, you’re here,” she sighed, grabbing your arm and yanking you into the door.

“What’s wrong, Pen?” you questioned, trying to keep up with her fast pace that was honestly alarming considering the 5-inch stilettos she was donning.

“Everything! The only other girl here is Emily and she does not have a clue on how to color coordinate! And the caterers said the food might not be ready in time and JJ’s mom might be late and-”

“Penelope, take a deep breath! Everything’s gonna be just fine. Let’s see what you have so far.”

She nodded, taking a few deep breaths before guiding you over to the pair of French doors that led out to the backyard.

So far, all of the chairs had been set out for the ceremony and the wedding arch and already been placed, but sat bare. Table for the reception were out, but they were lacking decorations as well. The only thing that seemed fully completed was the dance floor, which had a mat of hardwood laid out on the grass with a sound system at the head of it.

“Okay, you’ve all got a good head start. It’s only noon, and they’re not supposed to be here until 6. We still have time,” you consoled, giving her a comforting smile.

“Ah, is this the girl we’ve been waiting for?” a voice questioned behind you, and you and Penelope turned around to see three men walking in your direction.

“It is!” Penelope replied, beaming and placing a hand on your shoulder. “Boys, this is Dr. Y/N Y/L/N, the head psychologist at St. Elizabeth Hospital in DC.” Penelope then shifted over to the boys’ side, standing next to the man you knew as David Rossi. “You already know this guy.”

“Of course, how could I ever forget,” you hummed, reaching out to shake his hand.

She then stepped next to a taller man with dark skin and strong eyebrows. “This here is Derek Morgan.”

You shook his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard quite a lot about you.”

She finally stood by the last, and the tallest, man in the group. “And this is Dr. Spencer Reid.”

You smiled at him, and he did the same in return. “I remember her saying you don’t do handshakes. It’s nice to meet you.”

“So now we’ve got two doctors to deal with?” Rossi playfully sighed, patting your shoulder.

“Seems like it,” you hummed, grinning at Spencer before turning to Rossi. “Though I doubt I’m half as intelligent as Dr. Reid right here. I’ve heard rumors of an IQ of 187?”

Spencer shrugged, a blush flooding his face. “I-I uh, I mean... Yes.”

“And that IQ immediately decreases threefold whenever he sees a pretty girl,” a voice behind you teased, and you turned to see Emily walking over to the group, a bright smile on her face.

“Is that so.” You beamed back at her, slinging an arm around her shoulder and pulling her into a hug.

“Alright chatter-bugs, we’ve got a wedding to set up!” Penelope announced. “Hotch is gonna be here late, so we’re down a person for a while.” She grabbed your arm and began tugging you off. “I need you to help with flower stuff.”

You rolled your eyes and waved goodbye to the group before letting her tug you inside. Once you two were in one of the many living rooms, she turned to you with a big grin on her face. “What?”

“So?”

You furrowed your brows in confusion, shaking your head slightly. “So what?”

She huffed, rolling her eyes as if it was obvious. “So, what do you think of the doctor?!”

“Oh my god,” you grumbled, running a hand through your hair. “Penelope, I am not gonna date your coworker, no matter how cute he is.”

“So you think he’s cute!”

“Penelope!” You let out a breath. “Pen, you know I’m not good with relationships, especially with my job, I barely have time to do anything.”

“Neither does he! It’ll be perfect!” She pushed out her lower lip, clasping her hands together in a praying gesture. “Please, at least think about it!”

Another sigh left your lips. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

She squealed. “Yay!”

“But that doesn’t mean I’m for sure gonna date him!”

She smiled knowingly, nodding once. “Whatever you say.”

***

You were lucky that the florist you contacted had the flowers you needed in supply, and even luckier that they were able to have them all ready within the hour.

You were busy attempting to arrange the flowers and fake vines on the arch when you felt a presence to your right, watching from your peripheral as they gathered a handful of baby’s breath and began sticking them in the spots you needed filled.

“Thanks,” you hummed. “I was about to grab a step ladder for that, but you seem to have that under control.”

“It’s a gift and a curse,” Spencer joked, giving you a shy smile before turning back to his task.

You chuckled before grabbing a roll of sheer ribbon and holding it out to him. “Mind using your gift to tie that ribbon at the top of the arch? I can’t reach.”

He nodded, gingerly taking the ribbon from your hands and extending a length out to tie it to the top of the arch. You then took the roll from his hands and created a draping effect before snipping the length off from the roll and tying it to the side of the arch.

As you moved to the right side of the arch to mirror the draping that you had just done, Spencer’s eyes followed your movements, his breath caught in his lungs and his lower lip caught between his teeth.

“Spencer?”

“Hm?” he voiced, snapping out of his trance.

You smirked, handing him the roll. He grinned shyly back at you before mirroring the work he did on the other side. “I asked you where you’re from,” you explained as you took the roll back from him.

“Oh, uh, I’m from Las Vegas,” he rushed out, already feeling a burning in his cheeks.

“Really? What a coincidence. I’m from Reno, but I worked in Vegas while I was getting my masters.”

“Where’d you work?”

“The mental hospital there.” You shook your head, letting out a sigh. “God I worked there for like a year but I can’t remember the name for the life of me. Harrington, something like that-”

“Bennington?”

“Yes, that’s the one!” You turned to give him a smile, only to see a haunted look on his face. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, pursing his lips and casting his gaze to the ground. “I-it’s nothing.”

“Spencer.” You took a step forward before tentatively reaching your arm out, weighing the possibilities for a moment before placing your hand on his shoulder. “I know I’m not a profiler, but I can still read people. And I also know that we aren’t close, but you should know that you can trust me.”

He nodded, puffing a breath out through his nose. “I... Someone close to me is... Is one of the residents there.”

Your mind pondered for a moment, dots connecting right in front of your eyes. “Diana Reid.”

He tensed at the name, unconsciously giving himself away.

“She was one of my favorites.” You watched as his eyes lifted from the ground and flickered over your face, trying to decide if you were being honest. “God, she was so intelligent and kind and hilarious as all hell.”

He let out a small chuckle, relaxing slightly. “Yeah?”

“Oh absolutely. She’d crack me up all the time, my sides would hurt from laughing by the time my shift ended. And when she wasn't making me laugh, she’d tell me about her favorite author, read me some of her favorite passages.” A smile imprinted on your face. “Or she would read me letters that she got. Everyday she had a new letter, and her face would light right up when I handed it to her.”

Tears began to well in his eyes, and you moved your hand down to his bicep, locking gazes with him.

“She talked about you everyday. About her genius FBI agent of a son. She was so proud. And I could tell that you cared about her so much. Enough to get her the help she needed. Enough to risk your relationship with her to keep her safe.”

Spencer blinked back his tears and reached up to grab your hand, and for a moment you worried that you had crossed a line.

But that worry immediately faded away when he held your hand, squeezing it gently before giving you a kind smile. “Thank you,” he whispered.

You just nodded, letting the moment linger for as long as possible.

“Hey guys, how’s the arch coming alo-” Penelope began as she walked over to you two, her face buried in her tablet. She froze the moment she looked up, seeing the strange and vulnerable scene in front of her.

“Yeah, yeah, It’s good. I’m uh, I’m gonna go get some water,” Spencer rushed out, giving you both tight lipped smiled before hurrying off.

Penelope gave you a look as she stepped over to you. “What was that?”

“I know his mom,” you stated incredulously, the shock still lingering in your system.

“Wait, what?”

“She, she was one of the residents at the mental hospital I used to work at.”

“So you guys are like on a third date basis with info about each other?”

“Penelope!” You sighed, rubbing your eyes. “I think that was the deepest conversation I’ve ever had with a stranger.”

“And I bet he can go a lot deeper-”

Your face grew a bright red and you smacked her shoulder. “Stop it!”

***

Your feet were aching by the time you had finished decorating the backyard, immediately falling into a chair with a heavy sigh the moment you placed the last centerpiece on the tables.

“Y/N I think you may be an actual saint,” Penelope breathed out. “Thank you so much for helping. I don’t think I could’ve gotten this done by myself.”

“I’m always down to help,” you replied, giving her a tired smile. “I should probably start getting ready though. The party’s gonna start soon.”

“I’ll come with you. My stuff is all in my car. We can use one of Rossi’s many bathrooms.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

The two of you gathered your makeup and clothes for tonight before heading into the first bathroom to the right on the second floor of the mansion. That room immediately filled with giggles as you two got ready, helping each other with hair and makeup.

It was almost time for the party to start when you two were ready, zipping your dresses up and slipping on your heels when there was a knock at the door.

“Are you two gonna give us a reveal anytime soon or do we have to beg for it?” Derek’s voice sounded from the other side of the door, his grin evident in his words.

“We?” Penelope questioned, smirking herself.

“Well you know there’s gotta be an audience whenever there’s two beautiful women. Now are we gonna get a show?”

You rolled your eyes, letting out a chuckle as Penelope stepped over to the door. “You ready?” she questioned.

You shrugged. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sighed in response before gesturing for her to open the door.

She pulled the door open a moment later, stepping out first and you stepping out behind her.

Emily let out a low whistle, motioning for you two to turn. You scoffed but obliged, waddling around in a circle before giving everyone a sheepish smile. Emily and Derek bombarded the two of you with compliments, boosting your confidence through the roof and making your cheeks burn bright.

Eventually, Emily and Derek and Penelope split off into their own group, chatting amongst themselves. That was when you noticed a timid body tucked away to the side, someone who had been there the whole time but had stayed silent.

“Hey,” you greeted, smiling up at him.

“Hi,” Spencer hummed in return, a shy smile on his own face.

From behind you, you could hear the group change their conversation from whatever mundane topic they were on previously to the topic of you and Spencer. The words seemed to blend together but you could pick up a few things.

“What did I say, that IQ is gone,” Emily joked.

“Pretty boy’s got a pretty girl now,” Derek added, all of them giggling.

“You um... You look beautiful,” Spencer told you, blatantly ignoring the group’s playful comments.

“Thanks. You clean up well yourself,” you said, reaching up and straightening his bow tie for him. “I dig the bow tie.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. It’s very Eleven-esque.”

He smirked at that. “You watch Doctor Who?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, whenever I get the time. I’m not as big of a fanatic as Miss Penelope Garcia, but I certainly enjoy it.”

“Maybe we can watch the new season together sometime?”

You nodded, beaming. “It’s a date.”

You were so wrapped up in your conversation with Spencer that you failed to notice the peanut gallery wander off, evidently bored by the change of conversation.

However, you didn’t fail to notice the blush deepening on Spencer’s cheeks from your words, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, a nervous habit that (you hated to admit) had an effect on you.

“We- uh, we should probably head outside. I bet the party is starting soon,” he stuttered out, rocking back and forth on his heels.

You nodded with a frown, glancing over at the bathroom. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. I’m gonna clean up the bathroom and throw my stuff in my car, then I’ll meet you out there.”

A strange emotion, almost reminiscent of disappointment, crossed over his face for a moment before he nodded. “Alright. See you out there.” He gave you a small smile before stepping past you, leaving a lingering touch on your bare shoulder before retreating downstairs.

***

Luckily, the wedding ceremony had gone off without a hitch, every moment was perfect and extremely emotional.

Tears stains still lingered on your cheeks when dinner was over, and JJ handed you a tissue when she stepped over to you. “I’ve got a whole supply of them, my mom gave ‘em to me when I was breaking down up there,” she whispered to you, pulling you into a tight hug.

“Thanks, JJ,” you breathed, hugging her back just as tight. “I’m so happy for you two.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty happy too.” The two of you giggled, and she pulled away from the hug to give you a smile before looking around. “And I’ve noticed that a special someone is pretty happy to see you, too.”

You followed her line of sight, playfully rolling your eyes when you saw Spencer playing with Henry. “God, who put you up to this?”

She scoffed, turning back to you. “Hey, I may not be a profiler, but I know a connection when I see one.” She reached out, taking your hand in his. “You should really give him a chance. You two would be amazing together, and you both deserve some happiness in your lives.”

A sigh left your lips, but you nodded. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

JJ squeezed your hand before rising to her feet and looking around for Will. “Well, we should probably do the first dance before Penelope loses her mind.”

You grinned at her. “Have fun, girly. Love you.”

“Love you too. And thank you for all this. It means so much to me.”

“Of course. Anything for you. Now go dance!” You shooed her off with a laugh, watching as everyone turned their attention to the bride and groom making their way over to the dance floor.

The music started playing, and everything moved in slow motion as JJ and Will danced together, both of them beaming with pure love in their eyes. People eventually moved to join them, everyone swaying together on the dance floor.

You had sat at the table for a while, watching everyone make idle chat and have fun on the dance floor. This feeling of warmth and comfort was one that was foreign to you, and you wanted to bask in it for as long as possible.

“All alone?”

You looked up to see Spencer standing in front of you, a shy smile on his lips.

You nodded, returning his smile. “I guess so. Dancing really isn’t my thing.”

He pulled a chair up next to you, sitting down and watching the crowd with you. “Yeah, me either.”

“Really? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I do believe I saw you dancing with Emily. And Penelope. And JJ. And JJ’s mom.” He scoffed, and you let out a laugh, playfully shoving his shoulder. “Maybe you’re just a ladies man.”

“Oh, definitely.”

“I mean that sounds like some player behavior if you ask me.”

You both shared a laugh, wide smiles stretching across both of your lips. That laughter soon faded into a comfortable silence, the two of you returning your gazes back to the dance floor.

“I mean, there’s one girl I haven’t danced with,” Spencer spoke up, bringing your attention back to him.

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “Oh yeah? And who would that be?”

Your eyes followed his form as he stood from his seat and walked around you, stopping when he stood right in front of you. “I believe that would be you.” He extended his hand out to you.

A small chuckle left your lips, gently placing your hand in his and pushing yourself to your feet. “You’re getting confident, doctor.”

At your words, his demeanor began to slip, a light blush blooming across his cheeks, glowing under the string lights. “Oh-I-”

“Spencer.” You squeezed his hand. “It’s okay. I’m glad you feel comfortable enough around me to be forward.”

He let out the breath he was holding, squeezing your hand in return before leading you over to the dance floor. You couldn’t help but notice the subtle glance Spencer shared with the DJ once you two stood on the hardwood mat.

The song changed, now playing a slow song you were all-too familiar with. “I didn’t peg you as a guy who listened to Bright Eyes.”

He shrugged. “I’m not. But I had Penelope look into your purchases to see what CDs you’ve bought.”

You feigned offense, gasping and shoving his shoulder. “You two were conspiring!”

He let out a laugh, beaming at you as he placed one hand on your waist. “Well we better get to dancing before this song is over. It’s only 3 minutes and 9 seconds long.”

You rolled your eyes but obliged, placing your free hand on his shoulder and stepped close to him, squeezing his hand once before you two began to sway, eyes locked in each other’s gaze.

“I’m, uh...” You sighed, pursing your lips. “I’m really sorry about bringing all that stuff up with your mom,” you whispered.

“It’s okay,” he whispered in response.

You furrowed your brow in frustration. “But I made you upset, I didn’t mean to do that. I’m really sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. You didn’t upset me.” He let out a breath. “Honestly, it’s really nice being able to talk to someone who knew who she is. Who she really is. Not her illness, her.”

You nodded, searching his eyes. “I’m glad that you trust that I know who she really is.”

“I don’t need to trust you. You told me exactly who she is. She’s a kind, intelligent woman.”

A smile settled on your face. “With a kind and intelligent son.”

He returned your smile, his hand winding around your waist and pulling you against his chest as the song changed.

You chuckled, searching his eyes. “God, did you guys just decide to play all the music I like.”

He paused to listen to the song. “No, I don’t recognize this song. Maybe Penelope chose it.”

“Of course she did.”

You listened to the lyrics, humming along to the melody as your eyes traced over his features.

Your hair was long when we first met. Of course.

Slowly, as the two of you swayed, you laid your head on his chest, letting your eyes flutter shut.

Peace.

189 notes · View notes

vampirefreakism · 5 years ago

Text

The Scientist (Chapter 51)

Summary: In the events following Asgard’s destruction, Loki finds himself on Earth seeking refuge to await the inevitable. Much to his surprise, it comes from a source he would never have expected.

Warnings: science, mentions of sharp objects, some cutting, not bad, cool stuff

Word count: 5k

The AO3, Wattpad, and Spotify links are all available on the MasterList

Masterlist

———-

A/N: Hello, folks! New chapter! Yay! Alrighty, we are revisiting the lab again! More science and such things and the like. Gonna look back at the rose and the zebrafish from all those chapters ago. Remember the fish? The zebrafish Luna did some gene-splicing experiment on after the worm? I sure do. Yes, I know I haven't mentioned it in a while, but that's because there were more notable things to talk about first. We need a little mundanity now and then. Also, it's been about 5 chapters, so it's high time for more music!

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The remaining vacation days were as unexciting as the duo had hoped. They visited a couple museums, a restaurant for dinner and a café for lunch, and then returned home. It was a smooth ride, save for a spot of traffic in the afternoon. Luna gave herself enough time to account for such instances so she wouldn't worry herself. Naturally, Loki slept for most of the journey, but not before taking Luna’s hand in his and holding it for as long as he could. He was glad she didn’t demand an explanation because he hadn’t prepared one.

Another day of rest and unwinding in the apartment and Luna was back on the grind at work. Though she'd been away for a week, it felt like an eternity. As she walked into the building and to the lab, she was tempted to turn back around and go somewhere else. Anywhere other than the workplace. But she kept going, scanning her card and making herself known.

“Hello, miss,” FRIDAY said as Luna stowed away her bags and jacket, “welcome back.”

“Hello, FRIDAY. It’s good to be back.”

“How was your vacation? Eventful, I hope.”

Luna chuckled and shrugged on her lab coat. “Oh, you have no idea.”

“No, I wouldn’t, would I?” FRIDAY snarked a little.

“Any messages for me?”

“A few from Mr. Stark, but no high-priority items.”

“Ok. What are they about?”

“He wants a lab meeting soon.” Luna’s body stiffened. It’d been a while since she talked about her work with him. She didn’t know what she’d tell him.

But she huffed and snapped on a pair of rubber gloves. “Alright. I’ll see him about that later. Thanks, FRIDAY.”

“You’re welcome. Care for any music while you work?”

“Uh, yeah. Just throw on whatever.” As Luna unlocked a drawer and took out her lab notebook, ‘Twilight Zone’ played through the room speakers. Her ears perked up at the familiar notes. “Ooh, nice,” she said, turning to the last page she wrote in before vacation. Bobbing her head, she read over the tasks for the day. First things first, she needed to clean and change the filters to the fish tank.

As far as she could tell, the little fish was thriving. It swam contentedly about its tank and pecked at any particles it saw. Luna checked the UV light and changed the active-carbon filter. The filter pad was nearly black with sediment and dirt. Cringing, she folded it up and slid a new one in place. The pH and temperature levels in the water remained steady and fluctuated within the safe zones for them. Luna was thankful. She would have hated to have come back to an emergency.

Rinsing her hands off, she gingerly disconnected the pumps to the tank and took it to the sink. Her little fish didn’t seem perturbed by the sudden movement, though it did thrash a bit as Luna lifted it out with a net. She silently apologized to it. She didn’t mean to cause it any distress. It calmed down once it was in the fresh tank and knew everything was ok again. As an added comfort, Luna gave it a bit of dry food, and it inhaled all of it before it was back under the care of the system. She connected the tank back to the water pumps and breathed a sigh of relief. One job is done for the day.

As Luna cleaned the old tank and net with ethanol, her music cut out, and FRIDAY's voice came back on.

“Miss, Mr. Stark is on the line.”

Luna nodded, not stopping her scrubbing. “Yeah, yeah. Patch him through.”

“Long time, no talk, Baby,” Tony’s voice greeted her.

She laughed. “Hey, Tony. So we’re back to that now?”

“We sure are.” She heard a few faint metallic clangs. “How was your break?”

Luna slowed her hands. “It was, uh, good,” she lied.

“Just ‘good.’? What’d you do, anyway?”

“Mm, nothing much. Relaxed at home, went out to museums, and cooked stuff.” She lied right through her teeth, but lucky for her, Tony didn’t have to see her lack of a poker face.

“What about your guy?”

Luna nervously shuddered. “What about him?”

“Anyone recognize him?”

“We had a couple close calls, but nothing anyone can pin.”

“Good, because I seriously don’t know if I could take it if you two got into trouble. My blood pressure is teetering as it is, and Pepper would have the whole barn. You know, not just the cow.”

“And that’s why I stay out of trouble.”

“And that’s why you’re my favorite.”

“Aw, thanks.” Luna smiled. There was a loud bang over the speakers, followed by some repetitive whirring. “Hey, what are you even doing over there to make that much noise?”

“Uh, well, right now, I am on the ceiling.”

Luna set her hands on the edge of the sink. “You’re … you’re on the ceiling? Like, upside-down?”

“Yup. Trying out a new feature in the suit.”

“A feature that lets you … stand on the ceiling?”

“Not just stand. I can walk around, too. See?” A few more taps and whirs came through like Tony was walking around. “Oh, wait, no. Sorry. You can’t see.” Luna let out a loud laugh and resumed scrubbing the tank.

“What are you planning on using it for? Taking a trip to a place with microgravity?”

“Can never be too careful.” Tony paused, and some beeping filled the silence. “By the way, I was going through some of you-know-who’s phone history, and honestly, I don’t know what I expected.”

“What did you see?”

“Don’t you know? I thought you two were, like, the best of friends, or something.”

“Save for a few things, he never shows me what's on his phone, and I never ask."

“Hm. Anyway, his most recent searches were pictures of raccoons, articles about himself, conspiracy theories, and more pictures of himself.” He scoffed. “As if his ego wasn’t big enough already.”

“Heh, not as big as his dick,” she chuckled under her breath, but to her dismay, she was heard loud and clear.

“Excuse me?!” Tony yelled, followed by a thunderous crash. Luna winced as she pictured him falling spectacularly to the floor.

“Whoops, sorry, gotta go!” she called out, waving her hand to cut the transmission.

“Why would you say something like that?!”

“Hanging up now! Bye!” She gestured frantically, and the call cut out. Groaning as loud as she could, she hung her head. “I can’t believe myself sometimes.” She dried off the outside of the old tank, set it aside to air-dry, and dried her own hands. “Alright, what else is there to do?” She flipped back a page in her notebook. “Ah, yes, that's right," she stated through her teeth.

Her next possible point was to test the new virus on a live subject i.e., her own self.

Luna did a set of three things: stare at the floor, staring at the wall, then sit in a chair and stare at the ceiling. Of all the things she should be doing now, she did none of them, and she thought of nothing. A horrible thing to do in a lab filled with items of dubious safety, but she did it anyway.

Getting tired of thinking of nothing, she pictured something in her mind to fill it. She thought of the trees outside, birds flying high, and the porch by the river. Things that brought her peace and made her believe everything was alright. And as far as her life was concerned, few things were alright but not as many as she would like. She was saddled with issues out of her control, Tony was an anxious wreck most of the time, and Loki held the weight of several worlds on his shoulders. She always wanted to try and fix things for her friends, but she had to remind herself that it was impossible. A wish had to stay a wish.

Luna quickly got fed up with looking from an empty white space to another empty white space and decided to take a walk down the hall. She left everything stowed and locked in the lab, toting only her music along. She needed to manifest some semblance of privacy while in public, and the music did an excellent job.

Hands in her pockets, she moseyed to the lobby and stared out the giant floor-to-ceiling windows. It was a great design choice to open up the room to the world outside. Now she could see the trees and the birds she imagined. She’d seen them hundreds of times during all the seasons she was here, and it never got old.

Luna opened up her music app and hit shuffle on the ‘suggestions’ list. A new sound graced her ears. She looked down at the screen, furrowing her brow, and read the title. ‘Holding On’ by Nightly. It was new. Very new, and she liked it. She added it to her favorites list and put the device back in her pocket.

She knew the scientific procedure. It was simple: defrost the RePri virus, inflict a small injury to an inconspicuous place on her body, and inject the virus to the wound site. All to test how quickly it could heal surface injuries on a human with matched DNA. It was easy to write down and easy to conceptualize, but everything else was hard. The dilemma at hand reminded her of a phrase she heard a long time ago: ‘your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could that they didn't stop to think if they should.’ A classic line from a classic film, and said by a fake scientist in a fake scenario.

However, being the real scientist in the room, it hit Luna hard. It was true that just because someone can do something, they shouldn’t necessarily do it. The presence of ‘can’ doesn’t automatically mean ‘everything will be fine.’

But Luna had a curious soul. Always eager to find things out and learn about them. She never felt there should be a limit to knowing things, but plenty of people with more power than her certainly did. Such people frightened her, especially the ones she had in mind concerning her work. S.H.I.E.L.D. or whatever they called themselves now, and groups like them. She heard about what they would do to scientists they were interested in. Jane Foster was a lucky one.

If they found out what Luna was doing, they would steal everything and erase her, or rope her into working for them and make her do whatever they wanted. Tony managed to avoid joining them by intimidating or buying his way out of surveillance via bountiful benevolence. Still, people like Luna were considered nothing but stepping stones to an end product.

On the other hand, what if she succeeded in hiding her project from the world? And kept testing the virus on herself and choice specimens. Say something went wrong, and Luna hurt herself in a way she couldn't fix. What would become of her? How would she explain it to Tony? He would lose all trust in her for keeping this a secret. How would she explain it to Loki? Would he have compassion? He was undoubtedly intelligent, but would he understand? Or would he be enraged that she used him for her own purposes? It tore at her heart. He would believe she thought nothing of his past pain and the courage it took to reveal a piece to her. He would think her heartless and precisely like everyone else. She’d lose him, and for what?

Luna felt a sharp tap on her shoulder. It startled her, and she jumped. She tore the earbuds from her ears and abruptly turned around, clutching her chest.

“Dammit, Tony!” she chastised. “You scared me!”

“Sorry, Lu,” he said, suppressing a giggle.

“Why are you here? Why couldn’t you have called me?”

“Uh, because sometimes, direct confrontation is the best thing.”

“What for?”

Tony stepped closer. “For that joke you made.”

But Luna played dumb. “What joke?” She wanted him to say it.

“The … you know.”

“Why you mad? You make jokes like that all the time.”

Tony huffed. “Yeah, but not you and not about him.” He sighed. “I don’t want you getting friendly.”

“What wrong with being nice, Tony?”

“There’s nice, there’s your level of nice, and then there’s too nice.” He pointed at her. “Don’t even think about getting too nice.”

Luna looked down at his hand and smiled, moving it aside. “It’s never even crossed my mind.”

Tony straightened up and brushed a hand through his hair. He looked her up and down and glanced outside. “So what are you doing out here anyway? Shouldn’t you be working?”

Luna swallowed. “Uh, yes. I am. Just, uh, waiting for something to defrost.” She waved a hand. “You know how long that can take.”

“In a way. So why not wait in the lab?”

“It’s dull in there. Besides, I'm keeping track of the time. Figured I would take a walk instead and check how my flower is growing. It’s been a little while, and can’t a girl check on her flower?” Tony opened his mouth to say something, and Luna lightly swatted his chest. “And don’t even think about saying what I think you’re about to say.”

He laughed and raised his hands. “Promise.” Rubbing his hands together, he rocked back and forth on his heels. “Alright. Well, don’t take too long. And no more jokes like that about you-know-who.”

Luna stepped back and gave him a mock salute. “Ay, ay, sir. Read you loud and clear.” Tony rolled his eyes, smirking, and made for the staircase on the other side.

Alone again, Luna groaned as she took off her glasses and put a hand over her face. "Ugh, what is wrong with me?" Grinding her teeth, she put her earbuds back in and restarted the song. It was good, and she wasn't sick of it yet.

She headed for the greenhouse as she fake-promised Tony. He had his eyes and ears almost everywhere, and she needed to keep up her lie. But it wasn’t all bad. It’d been a while since she'd last seen it, and she did need to check on its progress. On the trip there, all thoughts of her work vanished and were replaced with anticipation for the plant. Was it doing well? Did it bloom? Was it budding yet? Her pace quickened with her growing excitement, and in no time, she was there.

The warmth and humidity was a welcome difference from the cold, dry outside. The vegetables looked vibrant and lush, especially the tomatoes. Luna was tempted to snatch one and use it for dinner, but she hesitated. One tomato wasn't worth all the trouble if she was caught, and she was sure she had a proper one waiting on her kitchen counter.

Keeping her head down to avoid more distraction, she continued to the back where Tony’s personal garden sat. In and among the various flowers he kept was Luna’s rose. She crouched down and inspected it. As expected, it was much bigger than before. It had sprung a couple new leaves, and on the top, a sizeable bud had formed.

“Oh, hello there,” Luna said, reaching out to stroke it. She could see a speck of blue peeked out from bud’s seams. “You gonna come out soon? Hm?” She smiled wholeheartedly.

As she picked up the watering can, she could hardly contain herself. After months of waiting and gentle caring, she'll see the fruits of her labor. The flower will bloom, and she'll be able to bring it home to Loki. But once more, she second-guessed herself. Would he like it? Would it be too much? He told her about it only once in a passing story months ago. Would he read it as creepy, obsessive behavior? Maybe not. He properly confided in her now. They knew things about each other no one else did in the entire universe. Perhaps it wouldn't be too much. Maybe he would love it.

But if he didn’t, and rejected it, Luna would keep it for herself. At the end of the day, it was still the plant she raised from a seed. She would love it and care for it no matter what.

She stroked one of its leaves one more time and left. She'd spent enough time there, and any more would arouse suspicion. Well, she didn't know for sure, but it wasn't worth the risk. Besides, the plant wasn’t going anywhere.

Loki consumed Luna's thoughts on the way back to the lab. She knew so much about him, but at the same time, she knew very little. He shared as he wanted, and she did the same, but now with what she knew, what more could he be hiding? He had enough scars to last a few lifetimes – and to be fair, she did too – but she knew where she got hers and why. Where did Loki get his? And why did he have them?

Luna sat down at the lab bench and contemplated her questions. She wondered if it could have been someone he was close with, maybe family, but she quickly scratched the idea. Family could be cruel, but Loki said he’d been captured. It would have involved being far away from home, not in the depths of it. The injuries would have had to be recent to heal and fade as they did, but Asgardian physiology was different. Luna didn’t have the knowledge to know only by looking at them. And it was insensitive to ask outright. Whatever happened to him was severely traumatizing.

In a flash, something resurfaced in her mind, like a ping in a sea of silence. A memory from when she was still getting comfortable with having Loki in her home. When she was first starting her research into his genetic code.

The S.H.I.E.L.D. security videos from 2012. Loki had made passing threats and said some grave things, but thinking back on them now, Luna felt very unsettled. But she couldn’t remember exactly what he said. At least not at the top of her head.

“Hey FRIDAY, can we switch to my private server, please? And secure my connection?” Luna said into the air.

“Certainly.” FRIDAY opened up the interface and virtual files. “Is there anything in particular you need?”

“Yes. Show me those old S.H.I.E.L.D. videos again. The ones from when Loki came here.” The files spanned the screen. “Can you play the first one?” It opened up and played from the beginning.

Agents and scientists milled around, checking their computer screens and tablets. One of them poked at a device near the middle of the room. Luna assumed it to be the Tesseract. It fizzed and sputtered, and a beam of light shot from it, conjuring a portal. From the chaos and darkness, Loki appeared. Luna flinched at the sounds of guns firing and knives being thrown. It was all so violent. She looked away and waited for it to end.

“Please don’t.” Loki’s voice resounded from the video. Luna looked back up. “I still need that.” His attention was directed to a man in a black coat.

“This doesn’t have to get any messier,” the man said quietly.

“Of course it does,” Loki retorted. Luna shook her head, feeling grim. “I’ve come too far for anything else. I am Loki of Asgard, and I am burdened with glorious purpose.”

“Loki?” Someone else interjected with a start. “Brother of Thor?”

The first man turned and faced him. “We have no quarrel with your people.” He tried to placate, but Loki wasn’t having it.

“An ant has no quarrel with a boot.”

Luna’s feet grew cold.

“You planning to step on us?”

“I come with glad tidings,” Loki reassured, “of a world made free.”

“Free from what?”

“Freedom. Freedom is life's great lie.”

“No,” Luna whispered, leaning closer.

“Once you accept that, in your heart,” Loki turned around and pointed the scepter at the second man, “you will know peace.”

“Pause,” Luna commanded as she rose to her feet. Loki was now standing in full view of the camera. "Can we zoom in on his face and keep the image clear?"

"Certainly," FRIDAY said and did as she asked.

Loki’s face filled the screen. It was a bit blurry at first, but the program quickly enhanced it. His appearance here was profoundly different from the images of him used by the news programs. His skin was pale and shiny like he'd been sweating profusely, and his eyes were ringed in dark circles. But the look they held told a more in-depth story. They were distant and foggy, like everything he was seeing was far away. Luna's stomach turned, and she dropped back down into her seat. The drained complexion, the clammy skin, and the hazy eyes: all telltale signs of shock. She wouldn’t be surprised if his breathing and walking were labored.

She put her head in her hands, trying to control her swirling thoughts. It was all so much. The vague story he told her in the hotel troubled her greatly, and now this? She felt like she was reaching, but if there was a connection between Loki’s scars and his appearance here, it spelled something very sinister. There was no doubt the injuries he sustained would have led to him going into shock, either from blood loss or infection or both, but if this was when it happened? Luna felt a little woozy and rested her elbows on her knees.

Staring at the floor, she was overcome with the urge to embrace him. Her Loki. The one she recently spent a week sleeping with, in the literal sense. But also the Loki on the computer screen. The one who looked like he went from the frying pan and into the fire. He was in trouble, and he needed help.

Luna missed him dearly. She missed having him in her bed, going to sleep close to him, and waking up closer. Spending a full day with him in pure bliss, talking about anything, and not being afraid of what he would say. Feeling free for the time being and seeing him have a similar expression. Holding his hand for no other reason than to feel him.

Luna looked back up at the screen, still frozen on Loki’s menacing façade. She reached out and traced the curve of his jaw.

"What happened to you?" she whispered but received no answer. The Loki she knew hated being trapped. He enjoyed his freedom and the peace he felt with her. The words he spoke in the video weren’t his, at least, not naturally. He had been forced to love his cage, and his words were a result of it.

Luna took her glasses off, covered her face, and groaned loudly. She had to stop thinking about it. There was no way to tell unless she asked him, and she wasn’t planning on it anytime soon. It was awful to make up stories about things she didn’t know and an absolute waste of her time. She needed to get back to work.

She pulled on some fresh gloves and opened the freezer. The virus vials were where she left them, waiting for her to thaw them out. She took them, set them in a hot water bath, and let them melt. Like expected, it took longer than usual thawing sessions. It never ceased to cling to the cold.

Luna got her notebook, pen, and timer ready and made a trip down the hall for antiseptic wipes and fresh syringes. The box of micropipettes was full, and all the devices worked as they should.

“FRIDAY, turn everything off and go dark. I’m going to do this the old-fashioned way.”

“But, miss, if something were to happen -”

“But nothing,” Luna said confidently. “I can do it.”

“Alright. Going dark.” And FRIDAY switched off. No more coms or voice-command and the computer screen went blank.

“Ok,” she said, pulled out the now-thawed vial. “Let’s test you first.”

Luna prepared a microscope slide and turned on the corresponding machine. Using a fresh syringe, she dropped a half a milliliter of her blood onto the glass, along with the same amount of the virus. As she applied pressure to the puncture wound on her arm, she observed the activity of the cells through the eyepiece. She kept track of the time and sat for about five minutes, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. No spontaneous rupturing and no odd coloring. It looked like the last few times she’d done it.

Leaning back from it, she wrote down her observations and looked to the MicroFluid machine. She slid the microscope slide into the designated slot and turned it on. The computer screen came to life with an interface for the device. Luna sighed. Of course, she'd have to interpret the information manually.

In no time, she received the results she expected; the virus is compatible with her cells and bonded with them completely. Her testing continually remained successful outside of her body, but now she had to test it in real-time.

Luna’s hands and knees shook aggressively on the way to and back from the supply closet. Her goal was to get a sterile razor. The idea of holding it in her hand made her sick, but she was using it for an intellectual purpose. It wasn't like all the other times she'd held one, and she knew so, but the real trouble was believing it. Brains were tricky that way. They believed whatever was most comfortable for them to believe.

She closed and locked both lab doors behind her and taped pieces of scrap paper over the windows. No one in or out until she was done. Now, she had to decide where to test the virus.

She looked at her forearm and shook her head. If the experiment didn’t work, it would be obvious what she’d done, and it was sporting a pinprick anyway. It was also a particularly dangerous spot to pick. She hovered a hand over her stomach. No, the skin was too pliable, and it moved too much as she breathed. She looked down at her legs. The skin there was more durable, and she could keep it still as long as she needed, and if it didn't work, it wasn't anything long pants, and a bandage couldn’t hide.

Luna spread some paper towels on the stool by the bench and ripped off her old gloves. Bare-handed, she eased her pants down as far as they would go and sat on the towels. A lab conduct rule popped up in her mind: no exposed skin above the knee or elbow. Well, she’d broken several science rules already, so it hardly mattered now.

She cleaned the area of skin above the side of her right knee, and with a plastic ruler, measured two inches above it and put down a dot with a felt tip pen. From that point, she measured another inch and made another dot. Letting the alcohol dry, she made a note of everything in her notebook. She slipped on a pair of new gloves and opened up another syringe. Taking a deep breath, she opened up the virus vial, extracted one milliliter of liquid, and capped the needle. It was always good to start small.

Now it was time to get the show on the road. Luna picked up the razor and cleaned with antiseptic for good measure. She felt sweat start to congregate where it shouldn’t. There was no reason for her to be scared. She’d handled sharp things for most of her life, she’d tested the virus umpteen times, and she knew she was smart. She knew what she was doing. No one else did, but her.

“I’m smart. I know what I’m doing,” Luna thought to herself. She closed her eyes and repeated the phrase in her head. As of right now, the worst thing that could happen was nothing at all.

Luna opened her eyes and, without a moment spared to hesitate, made the one-inch incision. It burned and stung as she expected it to. She uncapped the needle and injected it about one centimeter from the injury site. Setting the two objects aside for disposal, she started the timer. Now to wait and see how fast it worked, if it worked at all.

30 seconds in, the stinging ebbed away to a dull ache.

Another minute, the bleeding stopped.

Two minutes in, all feelings of pain were gone, and the skin started to fill in.

Three minutes in, the wound was barely visible. It felt a bit itchy, and Luna made a note of it.

Four and a half minutes in, it fully healed to a dark pink line as a blue bruise formed around it.

Luna stopped the timer and made her last observation. She set her pen down, eyes glued to the newly-healed bit of skin. The bruising was unaccounted for, and it felt a little cold. She hovered her hand over it and lightly touched it. She winced prematurely, but it didn’t hurt. A harder press confirmed it. It tingled, but the skin was completely healed. A wound that would have taken a couple days to a week to close was done in about five minutes.

Smiling widely, Luna was beside herself. Tears prickled at her eyes as pride filled her to the brim. She did it. She did it all by herself. It was like the saying, 'curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.' In all intents and purposes, she felt very much like the cat, newly reborn and very satisfied.

She still had a lot to do; more experiments and tests to run and hypotheses to answer. But for now, she reveled in this victory. It was enough for today.

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A/N: Yes, I know I didn’t mention anywhere that a special tank system was set up for the fish, and that’s because I’m a little bit dumb. There’s a whole maintenance procedure and housing system for laboratory animals like the zebrafish (duh). I personally never worked with any, but I read enough lab papers to get a feel for it. Also, since this is still set in 2018, I had to label the song as ‘new,’ even though right now it’s not XP and yes, I had to quote Jurassic Park or I would die

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Taglist: @the-doctor-9-10 @pinkieperil @sherlockfan4life @kybaeza @withering-thoughtts

#loki x oc #loki x reader #the scientist #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki friggason #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #fanfic #fanfiction #luna fields #multi chapter #chapter 51 #slow burn #science #music #oc luna fields

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coffeewritingandimagination · 7 years ago

Text

★·.·´¯`·.·★ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀʀᴋ ★·.·´¯`·.·★

(Abeno Haruitsuki x Reader)

The sound of the bell rang through the school, signifying that lunch was in session. Abeno let out a sigh of relief as he leaned back into his chair, thankful that he didn’t have to hear about how his teacher was going through a midlife crisis. Already sending out Ashiya to get some lunch, Zenko tagging along, he quietly stared out the window, going down a mental list of things he needed to as soon as school ended. Being the Master of the Mononokean wasn’t an easy job, especially when he does it with such precision and care, which makes the clients and the Mononokean happy and satisfied.

“Hey Haru.” he heard a voice say, breaking him out of his train of thought. When he looked over, it took all of his might not to immediately react. There taking a seat in front of him, was you. Your hair was just as disheveled as your clothes, hell it seemed as if you didn’t put any effort into dressing yourself at all. The next thing he took note of was how exhausted you looked; the dark circles underneath your eyes, your sluggish movements, even the sparkle in your eyes that he loved so much was gone.

“You look like hell. Everything okay?” he asked, leaning his head against his hand. He watched as you stared down at his desk. You really did look like you could collapse at any second, however the unit they were in wasn’t difficult at all, and is supposed to be the smallest unit of the year.

“I’m not for sure.” you responded, letting out a small yawn. “Maybe I’m coming down with something.” you mumbled as you placed your head on the table. He watched carefully before he looked over at your half opened lunch. Now he definitely knew something was up. Abeno had been with you for a while and he knew that no matter if you were sick or not, rain or shine, you would always eat your favorite meal, sided with several snacks that you could never resist. Hell he would have to pry them away from you because you would finish out a whole box, but today, and the last couple of days, you haven’t touched your food.

That’s when a subtle stench made his way into his nose that he knew all too well. Abeno’s eyes scanned over to your extended arm and gently turned your wrist with a push of a finger. There embedded in your soft skin was markings that confirmed his suspicions. “Tch...how annoying.” he said as he stood up.

“Haru?” you asked, dazed from being half asleep.

“Come with me. We’re going to have lunch on the roof.” He said, whipping out his phone to send a quick message. Grabbing you by the wrist, he dragged you all the way to the rooftop of the school.

When the two of you made it to the top, Abeno stopped in his tracks and scanned the area. You looked at him questioningly. Now, you weren’t a stranger to his occupation. You knew he was an exorcist along with being this Master of the Mononokean. From what you understood, you thought it was amazing that he could manage to get the demons return to the underworld on their own, even if it were a small task such as delivering a love letter they’ve held on to, or finding peace from the mistake they’ve done. You also weren’t strangers to seeing a demon. The only thing is, you would see them in a transparent form, and sometimes you wouldn’t be able to see them at all. You stood quietly besides him, wondering what he had sensed to make you guys come up here for lunch.

“Yahiko, come over here.” Abeno suddenly ordered. There small gust of wind, but nothing really ever showed up. Brushing it off, you continued to stay silent so that Abeno could continue whatever the hell he was doing. Besides, you already felt like you could fall asleep in a matter of seconds. Abeno looked over to see you dazed off at nothing in particular, leaning against him for some support. Clicking his tongue, he turned his attention back to what was in front of him.

“Yahiko enough of these games.” There was a moment of silence be he let out a huff. Whatever it was, it was testing his patience. “She isn’t stupid or completely impaired to demons, so stop goofing around.”

“Why is Haru so mean to me so suddenly?!” you herd what seemed like a child’s voice whine. You blinked and looked down to see the a fox, but not any normal fox. This fox was white, decorated with black tipped ears and paws and flames that collared his neck and covered the tips of his long, white fluffy tail that broke into three at the end. “You never pay attention to me and it’s no fair!” He whined again, rolling around just like a child.

“I’m not being mean and i won’t say it again. Take the mark off and apologize.” Abeno said again, giving him a solid and deadly glare. Immediately Yahiko shuttered, realizing he wasn’t playing around.

“Okay okay, I’ll take it off.” he quickly retorted, walking towards you. Gently, Abeno guided your wrist over to the fox and he began to lick it. A surge of energy began to go through you. Your mind felt awake and it felt as if you just had a sudden power surge running through you. When Yahiko finished, he stepped back, letting the mark disappear with it. You awed at the power the little fox had as you examined your wrist and being. Just before you could utter a word out, a sudden wave of dizziness crashed against you. Your vision became blurry and your felt like the world was spinning.

“(Y/n)!” Abeno shouted as he quickly caught you, easing you down on the ground and letting you lean against him.

“What’s wrong Haruitsuki?” Yahiko asked curiously, wondering what could have happened to the human that Abeno held so gingerly towards him. Abeno on the other hand had to watch his words. Not because of fear, but to educate him in the warning he gave when he did the same to Zenko.

“Remember at Zenko’s temple, when I explained to you different people react to demons in different ways? Zenko reacted that way because you became mad. However, when you marked (Y/n), instead a sudden surge of anger, the mark has been eating up their energy.” Abeno explained, watching you intently in hopes that you would wake up sooner.

“I guess that’s why I felt more energetic.” Yahiko explained, hopping around. “Hey Haruitsuki, let’s play!” He chirped.

“I cant Yahiko. They’re not awake yet.” he said, pulling you a little closer to him. Silence filled the air as Abeno watched. To say he was anxious was an understatement. His heart was racing, however his faced was unnerved. Suddenly, you let out a small groan and your eyes began to flutter open. Abeno let out an breath of relief as he watched you. Soon, his golden yes met with your beautiful ones, shining brightly just as they always have been. “H-Haru?” you rasped as you slowly sat up, looking around and taking in your surrounding.

“How’re you feeling?” Abeno asked, keeping an arm around you in fear you might collapse again.

“To be honest with you, I’m starving and parched.” you replied simply as you reached for your lunch. “Oh yes I packed my favorite!” You chirped as you stuffed your face. A small smile graced his lips as he sat back, warning you about eating too fast. That’s when you caught sight of the fox.

“H-hey, you’re the one that took the spell off of me.” you pointed out, taking a sip of your water and letting refresh you from the inside out. Immediately, Yahiko stiffened when Abeno glared at him.

“I-I’m doing it..!” He said as he walked over to you. “U-Um...I-I’m sorry-”

“Thank you.” you replied with a smile. This completely caught Yahiko off guard.

“What?” he asked, looking completely caught off guard. You nodded and smiled.

“Thank you silly.” you repeated with a giggle.

“Y-You’re not mad at me?” he asked, tilting his head. Shaking your head, you gave him a reassuring smile.

“Why would I be? I figured something was happening when we were on our date.” you explained. It made complete sense why Abeno was glaring or talking to himself during the date constantly, or diverting you into a different direction. Yahiko was trying to grab Abeno’s attention.

“So that means i don’t have to apologize or let you have the opportunity to let you boil me into a soup?” he asked, wagging his tail happily.

“Oi act more sincere than that.” Abeno mumbled as he watched from the sidelines.

“Hm, no, but,” you said, turning into a much serious tone. You pulled out two buns in your hand. “I do have an extra red bean paste bun, and I don’t think i’ll have enough room for two.” you feigned a sigh, watching as Yahiko ear’s perked with interest. Suddenly, a puff of smoke irrupted from him, only to reveal a small boy with light blonde hair that matched his ears, wearing traditional attire. His faced were pink with excitement as he stared at the bun with eager and joy. It took a lot of effort to bite back a giggle as you held the bun out. “Would you like it?” you asked curiously.

“Oh boy yes-!”

“What do you say.” Abeno said, as if to remind a child what to say.

“U-Um, please?” he asked. You grinned and handed it to him, letting him eat in joy. “Yay!!” he cheered as he plopped down and began to eat. You smiled as he devoured the bun in his hand as you began to eat yours, only to squeak when Abeno leaned towards you and took a bite of the bun just when you did.

A blush dusted your cheeks as you looked at him. “W-what was that for?” you squeaked.

“I was hungry.” he replied casually, causing you to look away and continue to eat with your face burning with a blush. Yahiko looked at the two of you curiously before shrugging.

“You two are weird.” he said, eating the bun. As if on cue, Ashiya and Zenko came, arms filled with food from the line. “Sorry for the wait.” Ashiya said as he handed some food over to Abeno. You smiled as Fuzzy hopped from Ashiya’s lap and nuzzled against your leg before hopping around in hopes to play. You smiled as the buzz of conversation between friends began to rise. Yeah, you didn’t mind sticking around these guys. Besides, who else is going to stop your stubborn boyfriend from punting poor Yahiko to the moon?

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

So that was completely and utterly trash, but hey, it’s a start to get off of this writer’s block. Anyways, thank you for reading~! (*^▽^*)

#abeno haruitsuki x reader #abeno haruitsuki #abeno x reader #fukigen na mononokean #the morose mononokean #reader insert #coffeewritinganfimagionation #anime x reader #anime

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ghostmartyr · 7 years ago

Text

Okay. Let’s try this again. But healthy-like.

...Which, since it’s me, means religious stuff. I understand if reading about how I want to blow my brains out is easier to stomach.

Things are bad, but not insurmountably bad. I have a solid support system. The monetary side of that support system scares me to death, but nothing has gone away yet. Even if it does, I am supposedly devoutly religious enough to believe in miracles, and believe that divine intervention is very literally the only reason any of my life has been possible.

There’s no reason to think that’s going to change. The fact that I don’t find that entirely comfortable is between me and God, and the more energy I put into that, the more it’ll be okay. Life is bad enough that only a miracle can save me, and I believe in miracles. That’s like the opposite of a problem.

In theory. Practical application of said theory is lost somewhere between wanting to shoot myself and deciding to announce to the general public that I want to shoot myself. Every time I point out to myself that my faith says I’ll be okay because God’s always there for me, another, deeply cynical part of me points out that He was also there for me when I had sepsis, and if I’m being honest, that was the most horrifying experience of my life.

Knowing that I can come back from anything really just fills me with existential dread, because you know, I have seen a fair share of ‘anything,’ and I don’t care for it. I don’t want to know that I can survive anything. I want to be safe from anything happening to me.

Historically, I am the person who ends up eaten by a whale. Or I guess it wasn’t actually a whale? My Bible literacy is made of fail, but the point is, me and God are still in the “Do I have to?” phase of our relationship.

The current unwanted task is living.

To which the answer is no, I don’t have to keep living. However badly I screw this up, there’s an eternity waiting for me, and I can flip the switch whenever I want.

This life doesn’t have an eternity. It’s a unique, temporary, instant of existence.

Putting off forever for one more sliver of that instant, just to see where it goes, isn’t that hard. I do it by accident all the time. I go to bed, and wake up breathing.

I like my bed. It has a tiger bedspread. It’s thinner than it used to be, and I can’t make myself make the damn thing, but it’s snug, it’s mine, and I don’t see a problem with it. I feel pretty confident in saying that death would irrevocably change the interaction I have with my bed.

It’s temporary, so I should make the most of it. No one else is going to care about my bed or how my bookcase is organized, and even though I have days I don’t care either, there are days when I do, so what the hell.

Everything hurts a lot right now. I have zero control over the physical. Again, miracle needed, so I can just relax and coast and. you know, suffer. A lot. A real awful lot. An unfair lot.

...Yeah, no happy silver lining answers for the bad days or moods. They’re bad, I tolerate them badly, and I scare people. But I’ve been having a bad day for months now, and it hasn’t stopped me from doing things that aren’t so bad. Infinity War was amazing. I wrote 9000 words of a hs au my brain is convinced no one cares about. Several people have told me they enjoy it, so I know my brain’s lying about that, but believing that no one cares means that, while no one’s cared, I’ve written 24k words of story in a handful of months. Story I kind of dig. All while being horrifically depressed.

I think that turned into a silver lining answer.

Fuck, I don’t know, man, if I’d offed myself I wouldn’t get to write about Ymir wanting to bang a cheerleader, and that’s clearly the pinnacle of what I should be doing with my life.

I can never remember any of that during the bad times, and that sucks, but hey, maybe writing it down will make the memory a little deeper.

So, uh, positives.

Despite certain inclinations, I have not actually committed murder. Every tiny setback right now feels like the end of the world, but being able to wake up in the morning and hate the world would seem to indicate that it’s still there, so it’s just a very, very bad feeling, not real.

I have very little concept of what’s real or not, since my emotions sort of exist in peekaboo limbo. Babies have no concept of object permanence, and right now, neither do parts of me. On the one hand, awkward, on the other, it means that the tempest of rage is only summoned when provoked. Yay team.

Less positive, it is not good that suicidal rage has developed as a coping mechanism to doing slightly poorly in a video game, and once it’s started, it’s hard to shut off. I get it. I don’t feel like a person, so I judge myself based on accomplishments, and because of my health, those accomplishments are things like doing slightly okay at a video game, and I’m letting my entire sense of worth hinge on that. Along with other external factors.

This is bad, and unhealthy, and since I hate myself, I’m probably going to keep doing it. Not in a, “oh you scamp, haven’t you learned yet?” way, it’s just entirely possible that the fact that I can sometimes aim in a video game is really the most positive thing I can say about myself some days, and I can’t see a way to delicately switch myself over to understanding that it really doesn’t matter without losing one of my few bright spots.

But I am clearly overly investing in certain things, and I need to get into the habit of just turning the damn game off if it’s making me that angry. I know the moods come on fast, and I know I have delusions of conquering them before they go anywhere, and sometimes, I even break through the other side.

Oh well. I don’t like feeling like that. I hate that feeling enough that I should get into the habit of cutting my losses at the first sign of self-loathing. I know I feel like there is nothing else I can do with my time, but there is. I can watch anime. I can play other games. I own a game where the entire strategy revolves around killing yourself. I love it, and it keeps failure entertaining. I have other outlets.

Also, obsessive cycles have tripped me up my whole life. This is just one more, and it needs to be handled the same as all the others. No, it won’t be fun, and maybe I will be bored out of my skull, but that’s better than frothing with rage.

And I really should be watching more anime. I don’t know what it says about my mental health that I am actively avoiding things I have a long history of loving, but I’m guessing it’s nothing good, and even if I can’t fix the underlying problem, I can address the symptoms. Go watch more cartoons. Write more. Any day now, I can lock myself in my room and finish my Lego X-Wing (Poe’s, so it’s black, and so very badass, and no, I don’t know why it’s been collecting dust, but again, I’m sure it’s a sign of nothing good).

So the argument that I need to keep doing the things that make me angry is moot, because it isn’t actually all I have. It just feels that way, and all of my feelings are wrong and damaged, so I should stop listening to them.

...In a healthy, rising above way. No a repressing way. That is at least half of the reason posts like these end up happening.

None of this is really making me feel better right now, since I’m in a moment where I’m less than sure I have feelings, but that isn’t the point. I learn better when I put things into my own words, and I haven’t been taking care of myself lately. I don’t know that it’s even possible for me to do better than I have been, but the end result is the same, and the end result has me really tired.

This is like a benign to-do/ponder list. Maybe it will make an impression, maybe it won’t, but at least one more time, I went through the motions of trying to sort life and its greys out instead of painting the whole thing black.

Hopefully that something something. I dunno, I’m kind of a wreck, and I lost my perceived point more times than I want to count. I think I’m done here.

Except for saying thanks to the people who responded to the more... head explodey post. I’m bad at saying thank you, and letting people know how much they mean to me in general. I get embarrassed. Usually, when I hit my meltdown point, I know, on some level, I will find my calm again. Receiving kindness when I could have kept my mouth shut and gotten over it makes me uncomfortable. Especially when I know it’s probably going to happen again. People help me out so much, and with such regularity, and it kills me that it’s not enough, because it’s more than I could have ever asked for. I don’t know how to say thank you without feeling ashamed the next time. It’s like I failed, and dragged all of you down with me by letting you believe you helped me.

When that’s a really, really incomplete view. It helps. It always helps. It isn’t the magic bullet, but it always means the world, and it always bolsters me for whatever the next thing waiting for me is. I really wish I could say that more often, because it would be great if you guys could know it. But, you know, shy. Cagey about being vulnerable. Suicidal ponderings okay, heartfelt appreciation of someone’s value is overly mushy and something to fear. Obviously.

Also, I’m me. I let loads of stuff go unsaid because with the important things, there are times I feel it strongly enough that the thought of bringing it back to earth where you need to tell people that it exists for them to know that---unspoken understandings shade a lot of my relationships. Then I end up horribly insecure because I don’t know how many boundaries I made up or we actually both agree on, so I don’t know why I keep thinking it’s a good way to treat people.

What I mean by all of that, is thanks. For being a large part of why I’m still here. I wish less of you knew what I was going through. I hope things improve for all of us, and I hope we’re all around for a good long time to share the evidence of that.

#x is totally a fandom

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just-jordie-things · 7 years ago

Text

Thanatophobia - Theo Raeken

word count: 1722 warnings: a little swearing, sadness cuz teen wolf’s over *cries cuz it’s the first sunday of nothing*

(prompt one)

[ true love is seeing a person every day and still missing them when you’re apart ]

First period, fourth period, and lunch. Over all throughout my day, you saw your boyfriend two and a half hours in the school. Give or take a few minutes between classes, and the ten minutes of free time in the morning.

You sighed, closing your locker and heading to Lydia’s, who was just a few down from yours. The banshee turned and smiled at you, then went back to searching through her locker.

“I think… I have too many books” She pursed her lips and you leaned over to peek inside, chuckling at the crammed in rows of textbooks and novels and binders.

“Yeah, I think the library is losing customers because of you” You said and she laughed as well.

“Yeah yeah whatever” She rolled her eyes and picked one easily before shutting the door. “Ready to go to English?” You nodded, and followed next to her on the way to class. Lydia gave you a once over, her brows scrunching together at your quietness and blank expression. “You alright honey?”

“What?” Your head turned to hers quickly, but just as fast you nodded and faked a smile. “I’m good, sorry, I’m good” Lydia gave half a scoff.

“Sweetheart” She stated, and you sighed, knowing you’d been caught in a lie. “I’ve known you since we were five, so truth up, or I’ll tell you all about what new thing Stiles and I tried last night” You gagged instantly at the threat.

“Okay, fine, fine” Lydia smirked in victory.

“Alright, now why do you keep zoning out and frowning?” She said as you both walked into your last class of the day.

“It’s just… well can I ask you a question first?” Lydia nodded, leading you to the back of the classroom and the both of you sat in the last row for some privacy. “After you got Stiles back… from-from the Ghost Riders you know?”

“Yeah?” The green eyed girl’s head cocked to the side slightly, wondering where you were going with this.

“Were you… were you scared that maybe he’d leave again? That he’d slip away somehow?” You asked anxiously, beginning to tap your pen against your desk top. Lydia smiled sadly, knowing where this was coming from.

“You’re worried about Theo?” You bit on your lip and nodded.

“Yeah… yeah” You admitted softly. “Ever since Liam brought him back I’ve just… I’ve just missed him more than when he was gone. Even when he’s sitting right next to me all I can think about was when he was away. I’m going crazy”

“No, no honey you’re not crazy. That’s not crazy. I know crazy” She said with the smallest quirk of a smile. “You’re just a little thanatophobic is all” Your eyes widened at the word, but Lydia waved a dismissive hand. “We all are. It’s the fear of losing someone, of death, loss” She explained. “And all of us are, it’s Beacon Hills, and I’d say we’ve been through our fair share to have such fear”

“You’re right” You sighed, pushing you hair back behind your ears and deciding to focus more on class, and less on your worries. “You’re always right” Lydia laughed, pulling out her notebook and taking notes on what your teacher had already scrawled across the whiteboard.

“No, I’m just really good with relationship advice. Back when Scott and Alli first started kissing with a little more tongue?” Lydia winked and clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, making you snort with laughter a little. “Let’s just say he never would’ve gotten a little taste of Allison Argent without my help”

You smiled at your friend, and smiled thinking back on the easy days. When the only stressors in your guy's’ life was when Scott was trying for first line, Stiles still had a buzzcut, and you couldn't speak a word of french to pass the class.

Now Scott was team captain, Stiles learned a little bit about fashion (not to mention he was dating Lydia Martin), and you were a fluent french speaker.

But, the pack was burdened with the task of keeping Beacon Hills safe from the supernaturals who tended to fuck up everyone’s life year after year. Plucking the lives of your loved ones, the innocent people of the town. Somehow throughout it all, you managed to stay human, but you Stiles and Mason would be the only ones of that category.

It used to bother you, but after meeting Theo, it didn’t anymore. He showed you that no matter what you were, chimera or werewolf or human, you were y/n first. And that’s all he’d cared about. And soon enough, it was all you cared about too.

Well, besides him of course.

It was a fast growing, fiery sort of love that had grown between the two of you. Something real, even though everything he began as was a false. Somewhere between his true intentions being revealed and the Dread Doctors being defeated, you had known you were in love with him. Even though he’d double crossed, then.. Recrossed (?) everyone, you still loved him. That’s how you knew he was more to you than a high school boyfriend.

Somehow, while you were his anchor, he was yours.

You smiled brightly when you saw Theo, leaning against the hood of his truck, on his phone. He was likely texting you, saying that he was at the parking lot whenever you were ready to go home. Just like every day. But today it felt like you could finally have a breath of fresh air.

You went off in a sprint, running quickly towards him and he looked up just as you had nearly reached him, grinning at your enthusiasm.

“Hey baby how was your-” He was cut off by your arms being thrown around his neck and you crashed your lips up against his. He happily returned the surprise kiss, his strong arms wrapping your waist and pulling you closer. You sighed, a content feeling crashing over you as you parted from him.

“I needed that” You breathed, opening your eyes to look up into his.

“I can tell” Theo smirked, and kissed the crown of your head lightly before taking your backpack off of your shoulders. “Come on, let’s get you home” He said, and you nodded, letting him open the passenger door to the truck for you.

“Thanks” You said, and stole a quick peck on his lips before he could close it. You responded to his surprised expression by smiling cheekily and taking your bag from his hands, holding it on your lap as he got in the driver’s seat.

“You doing okay today?” He asked as he pulled out of the school’s lot. You looked over at him and smiled, a genuine, affection filled smile.

“Mhm” You said, head leaning against the back of your seat as you stared at them. You were certain that he could see little hearts floating in your irises. “Just missed seeing you” Theo looked over at you, a small smile growing on his features. You smiled back as his hand reached out and wrapped around yours over the console and cup holders.

“You’re cute” He said, making your cheeks flush pink and your nose crinkle. You looked out the window to hide your blush.

“Hey, can we go over to yours? Instead of dropping me off?” You asked, and Theo grinned as he nodded.

“Yeah, of course” He said.

“Yay” You said softly.

You loved going to Theo’s, he had his own apartment so it was always the two of you and your privacy. Which did come in handy… in more ways than one. He’d given you a key to it, pretty early in the relationship actually. Sooner than you would’ve expected, but it was a lovely surprise. Nights you couldn’t sleep, or after long and tiring fights against god knows what was threatening the pack, you could just drive over to his and crawl into his bed. Most night’s he’d wake up and tug you close, but sometimes he wouldn’t wake and be surprised to see you peacefully snuggled against him.

Your smile grew big when you stepped into Theo’s apartment, and it didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Baby you alright? Did something happen today?” You turned to him as he closed the door. You nodded your head, walking over to him and grabbing onto his hands. “Oh yeah? Then why’re you all clingy?”

“Because I love you” You said in a high pitched childlike voice, and leaning in closer to him.

“Uh huh, sure” Theo scoffed, and you pouted. “For real, what’s going on?”

“Nothinggg” You whined, thumping your head on his shoulder. “Can we cuddle” You mumbled, and he laughed, tossing his and your bag to the side by he door.

“Sure” He said, and you grinned up at him happily. “As soon as you tell me what’s bothering that pretty little head of yours” You sighed and slumped in defeat. Theo’s hands rubbed over your back, his own concern growing as his girlfriend displayed an emotion he hadn’t seen in awhile. Despair.

“I’m scared” You admitted to him. “And Lydia said it’s normal… thant… tha… thanatophobia I believe she called it” Theo nodded, familiar with the term you’d only learned this morning.

“It is normal” He comforted quietly. “Especially for us” He added with a bitter chuckle. “But baby don’t let it tear you up, we’re all….” He trailed off, unsure of how to put the thoughts in his head into words. “We’re okay”

“People die” You said brokenly. “And they go away, and they get taken and they… they break up and-and”

“y/n” Theo cut you off, his hands rubbing on your shoulders, then cupping your cheeks gently. “There’s gonna be none of that, not if we can help it” He told you sincerely, and your features fell as he spoke. “And there’s sure as hell not gonna be any breaking up anytime soon” He chuckled, and a smile spread on your lips.

“Good” You affirmed, and Theo wrapped his arms around you to pull you into a hug. “There better not be” You said, making him laugh.

“Okay okay, now come on I owe you cuddling”

prompt list here if you’d like to request for it!

xoxo ~ jordie

#teen wolf #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf scenario #teen wolf imagine #theo raeken #theo raeken x reader #theo raeken scenario #theo raeken imagine #theo raeken fanfiction #cody christian #cody christian x reader #cody christian fanfiction #cody christian scenario #cody christian imagine

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bevioletskies · 7 years ago

Text

20 questions [16/20]

characters: peter/gamora, guardians-centric

fandom: avengers academy/marvel cinematic universe

summary: wasp has a new competition in store for the students of avengers academy, and there’s money involved. so obviously, peter and gamora have to pretend to be a couple in order to win. wait, what?

chapter preview: the school festival commences, yondu gets some horrifying news, and peter and gamora discuss what love means to them.

word count: 5889 | total word count: 118k

a/n: chapters 15 through 17, also known as the chapters where peter and gamora watch the entire original star wars trilogy. yay?

ao3 | previously | next | masterpost

Unfortunately for Gamora, ever since she and Peter had passed Natasha’s little test, it seemed as if her social calendar was filling up rather unexpectedly, the floodgates having been opened for Janet to bombard her with pre-prom all-girl events, including sleepovers, salon trips, nail appointments, and...dancing lessons.

“I have danced plenty with Quill,” Gamora had said hastily upon seeing Janet’s digital event spreadsheet (it was colour-coded). “Thank you, Janet, but I’ll pass.”

She had also somehow gotten roped into being on the set-up committee for the fundraiser festival. So, on Thursday evening, she found herself hanging up decorations, while secretly wishing she was back on the Milano, watching The Empire Strikes Back with Peter (“Gamora, this movie is perfection”).

“I heard you guys got your outfits all sorted,” Janet said cheerily. The two of them were stringing up white holiday lights around the quad, while the other volunteers were making signs, setting out tables, and checking the electrical wiring. “Have you decided on your hair and makeup yet?”

“Not quite, but I figured I could consult you for that,” Gamora replied. Janet beamed - clearly, it had been the right response. “I also have a little surprise in my outfit, for Quill.”

“Well doesn’t that sound sexy?” Elektra purred from nearby, where she was painting the banner for the kissing booth. “I have a thigh-high slit in my dress. Matthew always did like my legs the best. What’s your surprise?”

“Nothing like that,” Gamora said, annoyed. “It’s my shoes, actually.” She found the picture of said shoes on her phone and held it out for the other girls to gather around and see. Janet let out a squeal of excitement.

“Oh, he’ll love that,” she sighed. “It’s very sweet of you.” She turned back to the task at hand. “And your six-month anniversary is this week, isn’t it? You have anything fun planned?”

Gamora froze, her hands still in mid-air in an attempt to detangle a section of lights. How could she have forgotten? The two of them had buckled down on their relationship “timeline” recently, mapping out the trajectory of their breakup in the way they planned for missions. In her defense, it wasn’t like she had a colour-coded digital spreadsheet. Hell, the Guardians’ only semblance of organization was a shwarma receipt taped to their fridge door, with their grocery list written on the back of it. Instead of check marks, it had tallies - they couldn’t be bothered to make a new list every time.

“Quill has a surprise for me,” she lied smoothly, recovering. “I have no idea what it could be or when it’s happening, but I trust him.”

“I’m sure it’ll be romantic as always. Your trip to New York was super cute,” Janet gushed, wrapping up the last of the lights. “Nat told me Peter was constantly cheering you on during training. I think it’s sweet how much he adores your badass-ness. I mean, who wants to be with someone who can’t appreciate a girl for everything she is, right?”

“Hear, hear!” Elektra called, raising her paintbrush in victory.

Gamora, feeling particularly bold, decided to embellish a little more. Partially because talking about Peter had become second nature as of late, but also because Elektra was starting to irritate her. “Quill walked into a door when first saw me during a combat exam. He told me it was because he’d been amazed by what he saw, that he’d never seen a girl like me before. It’s...kind of sweet.”

“Kind of? That’s the cutest thing I’ve heard all week, and I heard Lucky sneeze this morning.” Janet stared at Gamora, scarily serious. “Do you know how cute dog sneezes are? It seems pretty clear to me that you and Peter were made for each other.”

Gamora turned away, fussing at another knot that didn’t exist, hoping the others couldn’t see the mixed emotions written across her face. Made for each other, she scoffed to herself. She had told herself, time and time again, that her chance at a normal life had ended the moment Thanos had first stepped onto her homeworld, ceased to exist when he’d grabbed her by the ankles and hauled her away from her parents’ bodies. The very notion of love - any sort of love, be it familial, platonic, or romantic - was laughable for a girl like her, a child raised as a weapon. And yet, here she was, at this academy that she never thought would exist in her lifetime, meant to house all sorts of heroes, anti-heroes, anti-villains, and reformed villains alike, living their lives of various degrees of heroism, sprinkled with “normalcy”, whatever that meant. So yes, maybe romantic relationships were in the cards after all, but she was still so unsure of whether it could ever happen with Peter.

She had fantasized about it, of course, the different scenarios that could come about. Combat practice that ended with her pinning him to the ground (as always), leaning in to peck him on the cheek for his troubles. Him attempting to pass her notes in class - he already did that every now and then, asking for help with a certain question, or to meet with him after school, but she could imagine him to be the type to write song lyrics that made him think of her. A post-mission adrenaline rush, resulting in frenzied kisses against his bedroom door before it became too much and not enough, her practically throwing him down on the bed, straddling him in an instant, wondering why Peter’s belt was too complex to remove within seconds. That last one had featured in Gamora’s mind more than once, that was for sure.

Aside from what she was sure to be just her own imagination running wild, what Gamora couldn’t picture was how they would deal with the more unsavory parts of herself, the thoughts that lingered on what she had done and the people she had done it to. Her first kill at the age of nine. Her first massacre at the age of twelve. Inflicting physical torture by thirteen, and psychological warfare by the time she was fifteen. Gamora was getting better at tackling them all on her own, of course. She wasn’t quite as “gloom and doom” as Nebula, she didn’t think about the inevitability of death the way that poor Bucky Barnes did, but sometimes there would be a twitch in her muscles, or a glimpse of a face in the crowd, that would take her back to “before”. Sharing a bed with Peter had helped combat the nightmares, but it was when she was awake that her brain decided to take her psyche and play. She wasn’t about to tell him any of that, knowing it would result in him hovering, prodding, and fussing like he always did. She didn’t need him to take care of her, and he knew that, but he would try anyway.

Gamora didn’t return to the Milano until late into the night, wondering if any of the Guardians were even there. It was always a toss-up between them sleeping on the ship or back at the dorms, though Rocket was usually the most consistent presence on the Milano, since his own night terrors led to him tinkering away at 3 AM. It was something they never talked about whenever they caught each other wandering around, bleary-eyed and trembling, too numb to speak. “Hello?” Gamora called out as she entered the common area.

Peter was sitting on the couch in the dark, the tablet in his hand being the only source of light. It left a soft glow around his face, highlighting the darkness of the bags under his eyes, the visible clench in his jaw. He looked oddly serious until he seemed to have registered the sound of her voice, his head snapping back up. His grim expression was instantly replaced with his signature grin. “Gamora, hey. Wasn’t expecting you back.” He quickly closed what it was he’d been looking at, though she could have sworn she saw a picture of her face on the screen.

“Thought I’d take my chances, see if you were here instead of the dorms. You’ve been spending a lot of time on the Milano lately, more than usual,” she commented. She considered sitting right next to him, but it felt too intimate when no one else was around to fill the space. She settled for the armchair instead. “Any reason?”

He patted the armrest he was draped over. “Milano’s my girl. She was out of commission for so long, I guess I wanted to keep her company, like she’s a sick pet or something. Is that weird? Yeah, that’s kinda weird.”

Gamora shrugged. “Not that weird. Your attachment to the Milano is to be expected, considering all you’ve been through with...her,” she acquiesced. “What were you looking at?”

Peter glanced back at the tablet in his hands, as if he had forgotten it was there. “Going through our Google Alerts, actually. Pepper set it up for me so I could keep track of our press. Lots of stuff about you and me, especially with that video of Groot.”

“You still feel guilty,” she guessed, eyeing the near-permanent crease between his eyebrows. “Quill, it’s okay.”

“It’s not that, not anymore,” he sighed, leaning back. “It’s more like, there’s a lot more people invested in our ‘relationship’ than I thought, and not just our classmates. When we started this whole thing, I thought it’d just be Janet and Kamala, because they love that kind of stuff. But there’s drawings of us. There’s couples recreating the kissing selfie from Central Park. I asked Cap about this yesterday, and he said he gets the same thing with him and Carter, that it’s all part of the job, but it’s still freaking me out. He told me not to look into something called...fan...fiction?”

Gamora wasn’t sure what he was talking about either, but moved to sit next to him and clasp his hands in between hers. “And it will pass once word of our breakup spreads. We’ve seen what the media is like in this world - fast, fleeting. We will be yesterday’s news before tomorrow’s headlines are even written.”

Peter looked down at their entangled fingers, squeezing. “Profound. I like it.” she pulled away after a moment of comfortable silence, shooting him that warm, almost flirtatious smile once again. He never really knew what to expect whenever she looked at him like that, or how he was supposed to interpret it. He chose to pretend Gamora really was flirting with him, that she was inviting him to flirt back. “What?”

“Janet reminded me that our six-month anniversary is this week,” Gamora replied. “I told her you had a surprise for me.” She stood, moving towards the hall. “Anyways, I’m going to bed now.” He was disappointed to see her hand coming to rest on the handle of her own bedroom door.

“Wait, what are we doing for our six-month anniversary?” he called. His stomach turned slightly at how legitimate it felt as he said it, like they had been actually dating for six months instead of faking it for three.

“Like I said. Surprise me.” She grinned before disappearing into her room, leaving Peter feeling slightly disgruntled, but mostly stunned. Well, damn.

______

The entire Academy seemed to have woken up earlier than usual on Friday morning, eager for a school-wide event that, for once, wasn’t some sort of invasion or fight. Not to mention the fact it also got them out of attending class - Janet van Dyne, everyone’s friend, the perfect event planner, and secret genius.

As it turned out, Peter and Gamora were the only ones on the Milano that night, which made him somewhat curious as to why she had slept in her own room instead. She only seemed to do it whenever the others pointed it out and embarrassed her, but with them being alone...Peter shivered a little. Okay, maybe she had a point. There was no telling how stupidly brave he would try to be if there was no one else around to mock him for trying.

Regardless, they had a relatively peaceful breakfast together, chatting quietly about their respective festival gigs, enjoying the lack of interruptions or teasing from the others. It felt like all the clichés in the world coming together for Peter when he admired the way the early morning light illuminated Gamora’s face, the red undertones of her dark hair more prominent than usual. And if Gamora was eyeing the scruffy bedhead that Peter was sporting, wondering if he would object to her running her fingers through it, he didn’t need to know.

“By the way, a group of us are playing a surprise show at the end. Don’t tell anyone,” she said, setting her spoon down into her empty cereal bowl. “Me, Drax, Adam, Barnes, and Gwen.”

“That sounds amazing,” Peter replied through a mouthful of Cheerios. “In the quad?”

“Mhm,” she hummed. “Janet’s got a couple cameras set up so she can film the show and put it online. Said it would be good for boosting the public’s perception of us, though she claims all the photos of our dates and the selfies that I’ve sent her are doing a fine job already.” She twirled the spoon around absent-mindedly. “I looked at some of the articles you talked about last night after I went to bed, and it’s even more than I realized. It’s honestly overwhelming how invested people are.”

“We’re a good-looking pair of badasses from space,” he shrugged. “In hindsight, not that surprising.”

“And so humble,” Gamora teased. “I suppose it sells better papers than Matt and Elektra. A law student and a socialite’s daughter is hardly worth anything beyond the society pages.”

After breakfast, they dressed and made their way to the quad, where it seemed as if every single student was currently bustling about, whether to help with last-minute setup, or to wait in nervous anticipation. Some students, like Nebula, had opted not to participate or volunteer, whether they were too busy, too lazy, or couldn’t be bothered (...like Nebula).

“Over here, Gamora!” Janet called cheerfully, gesturing for her to join Elektra and Colleen at their station.

“See you later,” Peter said, leaning in to kiss her without a spare thought. He was slightly alarmed to find Gamora also tipping her chin up in response to meet him halfway, an automatic movement on both their parts. Janet cooed in the background as their lips met briefly, before Gamora pulled away, biting her bottom lip in the way that made every thought evaporate out of Peter’s mind. He watched her leave, wondering when the careful calculation of every hand-hold, every kiss, had turned into second nature.

The fundraiser started off with a bang - literally, as Tony, Rhodey, and Pepper flew over the crowd, providing a light show with the use of their modified reactor beams - and the energy remained high throughout the day. Despite not being particularly close with Colleen or a big fan of Elektra, Gamora still found herself having fun with the other girls. Elektra especially was more endearing to her, once she stopped bragging about her and Matt’s exploits of both the hero and the sexual kind.

“I’m glad to see girls like us, with such terrible pasts, can be redeemed,” Elektra said privately to her during one of their water breaks. “But we must remember to never compromise on how powerful we truly are.”

“That’s a good way of putting it,” Gamora commented thoughtfully. “We still deserve a place to go home to, with people who love us, so we can love them and provide for them in return.”

“Which is why I hope Romanoff can see beyond her own past as well.” Elektra nodded at Natasha, who was standing across the quad, chatting with Clint. He was leaning against a tree, nonchalantly blowing bubblegum as he always was. They couldn’t hear the conversation, but he was apparently doing a good job of making her laugh. “She’s had her relationships with different kinds of boys on this campus, including a bit of a tussle with Matthew that I don’t appreciate, but there’s something about that weird one that has her captivated, even though they already didn’t work out. I confess I don’t understand.”

“He’s her best friend,” Gamora said quietly. “She probably trusts him with her mind and her heart more than anyone else. They’re both strong, in different ways, but they’re stronger together. He played an important role in her redemption, so her attachment was there from the start. She doesn’t want to know what life is like without him in it, and he came into his own full potential partially because of her guidance. It makes perfect sense.”

Elektra raised an eyebrow. “Honey, are you talking about them, or you and Peter?”

Gamora was unsure of how to answer, so her only response was to take another long drink from her water bottle. She found herself desperately wishing it was alcohol at this point.

Peter, meanwhile, was having a blast with Agent Coulson, whose fanboyish enthusiasm for all the various weapons that both Stark and Rocket had donated for their presentation couldn’t be contained. “You might be the only person who calls me Star-Lord consistently,” Peter told him.

“It’s a cool name,” Coulson replied with a shrug and an easygoing grin. “I wish I had an outlaw name.”

“Your name’s already pretty badass,” Peter said, smiling back. “Thor and his crew call you ‘Son of Coul’, like all the time. That’s already pretty cool.”

Coulson’s eyes widened. “Really? You think so?”

Peter patted him on the back. “Hell, yeah, dude!”

The other Guardians were enjoying themselves at their stations as well, with the exception of Nebula, who opted to walk around by herself and occasionally stop by Gamora’s spot to see if she was going to screw up (she hadn’t, of course). Rocket was giving engineering lessons to students wanting to get better at technology, Drax was challenging people to wrestle (though he drew the line at Hulk - he wasn’t stupid), and Yondu was putting on a “magic show” in which he drew caricatures of people using the yaka arrow. Mantis was using her empathic abilities to predict people’s futures with varying success, and yes, Groot was at the kissing booth, receiving cheek kisses and “ooh”s and “ahh”s of admiration from the majority of the student body.

Peter’s grin was so wide, he was sure he looked maniacal, but he couldn’t find himself to care. It was moments like this that left him in awe of the people had chosen to spend his life alongside - not just the Guardians, but everyone else who made being a hero so much fun. He could have never imagined a life like this after being abducted as a child, raised to be nothing more than a thief, and yet, here he was, living a life that was just so... good. Peter could imagine that Gamora and many others had felt the same way at one point in time or another, having lived in unspeakably abusive conditions with abhorrent people. He also hoped that they felt the same way he did about what this school was doing for them, what it meant to them.

He was broken out of his reverie when Gamora walked past him, and more surprisingly, with Nebula and Yondu in tow, Director Fury a few paces ahead of them. “Gamora? What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, though she looked distressed, lying through her teeth. At his knowing glance, she relented with a sigh. “I’ll tell you later if I can, okay?”

Once again, Peter found himself watching her walk away, though now his mind was racing with the possibilities of what a meeting with Fury could possibly mean for his friends. It was like he had jinxed himself, thinking about how good everything was going. Clearly, someone was about to deal them a hand that they weren’t ready to take.

______

“What’s all this fuss about, Director?” Yondu said, as nonchalant as could be. He and Nebula seemed to be having a contest on who could sit in their chair more obnoxiously, while Gamora opted to stand a little off to the side, arms folded across her chest. Fury let out a long sigh, though it seemed more world-weary than people-weary (and there was a difference), settling down on the other side of his desk into his leather office chair.

“It’s distressing news for the three of you. Disturbing, even,” he said, his voice somber. “I’d advise you against telling the others, but I have a feeling you’re probably going to tell Quill anyways. But don’t tell the kid, alright? Groot doesn’t need this kind of stress at his age.”

“What is it?” Gamora asked. Nebula sat up a little straighter, hands coming to rest on her lap. Yondu followed suit, the jovial humour in his eyes evaporating near instantly.

"Seems Thanos wanted to send a message.” Fury leaned forward to rest his elbows on his desk, steely-eyed gaze fixed on Yondu. “Got one of them Black Order people - and I don’t know which - after your Ravagers.”

Yondu shot out of his chair in alarm, fists clenched. Gamora took a cautious step forward in case he was about to deck Fury. “You better be lyin’ to me, Director,” he hissed.

“I wish I was.” He was doing his best to sound authoritative, though there was an underlying tone of sympathy that told them how serious it had been. “Forty-five of your men killed, somewhere out in space. I got in touch with the authorities, see if I could find out more, but there’s not much I can do at the moment but wait for their reply.”

Gamora and Nebula exchanged looks over Yondu’s head as he sat back down, stunned. “My boys,” he whispered. He sounded as if he were a million miles away, or more accurately, wanted to be millions of miles away, with his crew. “This is all on me, ain’t it. Tryna be a Guardian, and I get ‘em killed.”

"This is our fault, Yondu, I’m...I’m so sorry.” Gamora reached to rest a hand on his shoulder. “Thanos wants to hurt Nebula and I by hurting you.”

“You two don’t care about me!” Yondu snapped, slapping her hand away and turning to shoot her an ice-cold glare. “You only pretend to ‘cause Quill keeps me around.”

“We do care,” Gamora protested, frowning. “Do you know how often I meet with Director Fury, trying to convince him that you and Nebula have done something, anything that could possibly get you both to finally come on missions with us? You’re part of this family, Yondu, with or without Quill. Do not insult me by denying that very notion.”

He glowered for another moment before slumping over, sighing. He turned to look back at Fury. “At least tell me Kraglin’s okay. That boy doesn’t deserve to be done in, just ‘cause I’m here.”

“He’s the one who contacted the authorities about the hit,” Fury nodded, relieved that the worst of Yondu’s anger seemed to have passed. “I’m sorry to tell you all this, but I figured this secret wasn’t mine to keep. Now, Thanos himself wasn’t seen or heard from at the scene of the crime, so it could just be him sending a message instead of doing the deed himself. Either way, we’re on high alert. I’m not about to get his hands on any of you kids. Especially not you two.” He wagged his finger at Gamora and Nebula. “You’ve had enough to deal with, living your whole damn childhood out with him. He’s not gonna get a hair on anyone’s head if I have anything to say about it, and I’m sure you feel the same.”

Nebula, who had been silent the whole time, finally spoke. “I don’t have any hair on my head, Director. Same as you. But I suppose I can appreciate the sentiment.” She cast a glance over at Yondu, who was staring off into the corner of the room, gritting his teeth as if he were in pain. “Thank you for telling us.”

Fury couldn’t even hide his surprise, staring at her in utter confusion. “Alright, I’m kind of weirded out now. You kids go back to the festivities, and don’t let this spoil the rest of your day.”

______

It felt like coming home when Gamora picked up her guitar again, especially after the heaviness of Fury’s reveal. She played like her heart and soul depended on it, soaking in the enthusiastic (and a little off-key) sounds of her classmates singing along to words she had penned herself, every cheer and every clap driving her to push herself harder. What hit her most, however, was the unabashedly wide grins looking back at her. Despite the hardships that everyone had gone through to get here, they all looked so innocent in that moment, so unaffected by the looming horror that could approach them at any time.

The show ended soon after sunset, though the majority of the student population lingered in the quad, cleaning up and chattering excitedly about their favourite parts of the festival. Janet was flitting about as always, taking selfies with everyone and congratulating them on their various successes. Gamora, meanwhile, was dismantling her set-up when she heard footsteps behind her. I must really have it bad if I can tell who it is without looking, she thought, sighing.

“Hey, Quill. You enjoy the show?”

“You were awesome, as always,” Peter grinned, kneeling next to her so he could help with the complex wiring. “I love seeing you play. And it’s been a really long time, too.”

“Too long,” she agreed. “How about your demonstration? How’d that go?”

“Coulson nearly got me with the Destroyer once, but all he did was burn my hair a little.” He ran his fingers through his hair to show her a slightly singed chunk near his left ear. “No big deal, though.”

Finally giving in to the urge, Gamora reached over to ruffle it slightly until the burnt pieces were tucked out of sight. “I can help you trim that later, if you’d like,” she said softly.

“Sure,” Peter replied. “Hey, I was also thinking of watching Empire Strikes Back tonight, if you’re not too tired. We could head to the dorms instead? We helped raise a crap ton of money, we deserve to wake up without back pain.”

Gamora chuckled. It would be the perfect thing to keep her from letting the peril of Fury’s news plague her every thought. “I’m awake enough. As long as you help me pack up the rest of my equipment.”

He held out his hand almost immediately, pinky out for hers to loop with. “Deal.” She hooked their fingers together, eyes twinkling with mirth. Of all the things Peter had taught her about Earth, admittedly, she found this one to be one of the sweetest. A simple gesture he associated with his mom, now another thing that he shared with her.

______

Once again, Peter found himself distracted by the sight of Gamora lying by his side, cocooned in his sheets, watching the screen with the level of focus she usually reserved for combat. It was easy to tell by the concentration in her eyes that Gamora’s silence wasn’t out of boredom, but of engagement. Peter wondered if all the movies he’d been showing her before - romantic dramas and comedies, for the most part - were not for her. Instead, it was the adventures, the engaging characters, the world-building - that was the kind of stuff she seemed to love. The idealistic versions of their own world, things that reminded her of the happiest parts of their lives.

“You’re really loving this,” Peter commented as Yoda began training Luke. “I should’ve stuck to this stuff instead of the rom-coms. It’s more your style.”

“It’s not that I disliked the other movies,” Gamora said somewhat defensively. “It’s just...I’ve never really experienced romance, or romantic love. It’s hard to relate to something that I’ve never had.”

Upon hearing her confession, he began to wonder what she considered to be romantic. Her words implied that she based her understanding of romantic love off of what the movies showed her - Westley’s devotion to doing as Buttercup asked in The Princess Bride, Phil wanting to learn everything he could about Rita in Groundhog Day. Maybe he was wrong (and Peter found himself to be wrong more often than he’d like to), but it felt as if he were basically already doing those things.

When Peter had first met her, he would’ve joked that her idea of love was knives instead of flowers, and desired combat training in lieu of actual dates, but he knew her better now. He had seen her warm-hearted nature in equal parts to her fierce demeanor. She liked history, as evidenced by how immersed she had been on their “date” at The Met. She enjoyed nihilistic literature, and even though Peter didn’t understand it himself, he wanted to sneak a peek through her bookshelf and figure out what she already owned, so he could buy her more books that would make her happy. He wanted to sit by her side while she wrote songs, be her soundboard for lyrics that she couldn’t quite work out on her own. He wanted to hunt down every movie that he could hope to find that she would enjoy, so he could share as many evenings with her as possible, watching her expressions as she experienced them for the first time. And, in time, Peter wanted to help her on her journey that she never spoke about - rediscovering her home, her culture, her parents, in whatever way she could. There had to be something there, records, photos, videos, anything, that would make her feel like part of a whole again. Hell, he was incredibly gone for this girl.

Then, he got an idea.

“Question,” he said slowly after the movie was over. Gamora had ranted for a good ten minutes about the Darth Vader reveal, her face starting to redden as a result of it. She perked up a little, immediately recognizing the cue that had come to signal their incredibly long-standing game. “What’s romantic to you? Forget everything you saw in the movies, or out there with our classmates, or whatever else you’ve seen. What do you find romantic?”

She turned over onto her back, hands moving to absent-mindedly adjust her pillow as she contemplated the question. “I don’t need anything special,” she finally said. “Big gestures don’t impress me. That’s a sign of showmanship, not love.”

“Then what would be a sign of love to you?” Gamora tensed at this, wondering why Peter was looking so deeply into this particular topic. She could only hope that it was a precursor to something she’d been wanting, but she didn’t want to get her hopes up. This was all just conversation, wasn’t it?

“It’s the small things.” Another memory of her parents appeared to her like an old home movie playing in her brain as she considered the displays of affection she’d witnessed in her life. Her mother, who was terrible at cooking, attempting to make her father his favourite meal. She had burnt it terribly, and Gamora herself had complained at the time, but her father had eaten it regardless with a wide smile on his face. Or her father, who wasn’t the most creative of minds, but had some of the steadiest hands, stretching new canvases so her mother could paint beautiful landscapes. “Like remembering my favourite food, or finding some odd knick-knack that reminds them of me.” Her eyes flickered over to where her utility belt was, laid across Peter’s desk chair, where the multi-tool was tucked away. She had found it to be mostly useless, and tricky to handle correctly without having to take pause in what she was doing, something she couldn’t afford to do in combat. However, it had become one of her most prized possessions, not that she would ever tell anyone that.

“So you’d object if they brought you flowers?” Peter pressed on, determined.

“It’s not like I’d throw them out,” she protested. “It just wouldn’t interest me as much. It doesn’t feel personal.” He nodded, thinking it over. Maybe this whole “giant-crush-on-his-best-friend-slash-fake-girlfriend” thing wasn’t going to leave him with a broken heart after all. There would be time, what with everything he had learned about her these past few months. “Question for you, then. If you had to choose between sex and love, what would it be?”

He laughed, startled. He had never known Gamora to think too much about sex, and he certainly didn’t blame her, considering the horrors she’d experienced as a child, with adults commenting on her attractiveness like it was normal. “They’re not always mutually exclusive, you know. I mean, some people don’t want to have sex at all, and some people don’t want to be in relationships at all, but I’ve never personally felt that way myself.”

“Let me rephrase,” she interrupted, her hand pressed firmly against his chest as if to stop another Peter Quill ramble. “What do you value more, sex or love?”

“Love,” he replied easily. As he expected, she looked rather surprised at his answer. “Sex is great - at least, in my opinion - but I think love is always more fulfilling. Love’s what drove me and my mom to take care of each other, for her to share all the pop culture she grew up on, and for me to enjoy every second of it. Love is what got me and Yondu to bond instead of fight, the way the Ravagers were hoping we’d do. Love is why I fight so hard to keep you guys alive, and safe, and happy. It’s what keeps me going every day, to get up in the morning and be like, hell yeah, I wanna kick ass with the people that are important to me so that other people can live their lives without fear. Y’know? And love doesn’t have to be romantic.”

Gamora bit her tongue before she could ask him to elaborate on the kind of love he felt for her. She was too afraid to know the answer, to hear what she was sure was true. “That’s quite selfless of you. I’m impressed.”

“You wound me every time you doubt me, Gamora,” he said seriously, though his stern face was ruined by a cheesy grin. His expression softened as the moonlight began to creep through his blinds, reflecting the silver on her face, illuminating her impossibly long lashes and the light in her large brown eyes. It was a face he’d been waking up next to so often as of late, a face he wanted to wake up to every day. But the spell could be broken at any time, couldn’t it? Not unless he did something, soon. “What’re you doing tomorrow night?” Peter whispered.

“Nothing, really. Why?”

“It’s our six-month anniversary, of course. I think I know what my surprise for you is gonna be. And it’ll be awesome.”

a/n: i'm still banging their heads together, trust me. but oh boy, next chapter will lead to some epiphanies i'm sure you guys will want to see ;)

#starmora #peter quill #gamora #guardians of the galaxy #avengers academy #myfic #myfic: 20q #marvel #next chapter is their anniversary ooh

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ladyfogg · 8 years ago

Text

China Shop

Fic Summary: John visits you at work hoping for a little information, and perhaps some special attention. Constantine Oneshot Masterpost.

A/N: It’s been a really long time and it feels good to be writing again. This one came to me out of the blue and I ended up writing the whole first draft in like, two hours. So, yay me! Fic Song.

Fic Rating: NC-17

Fic Pairing: John Constantine/Female Reader

Fic Warnings: Language & Smut

The air is thick with the scent of smoke, musk, and alcohol. Lights are dim and the slow sensual music sets the mood. Nearly every seat is filled with someone: a demon here, a sorceress there, the occasional vampire or human…

At least, that’s what you can gather from your spot onstage. As you swing your hips and twirl around the pole, you get a better view of the room. A familiar face catches your attention, though you’re too professional to let it throw you off. You don’t remember seeing him arrive, and yet there he is. Really, you shouldn’t be so surprised.

John Constantine always pops up when you least expect him.

He leans back in his seat, surveying you with those watchful eyes. A nearly finished cigarette dangles from his lips, which are turned up at the corners, fixing you with his ever present smirk.

Focusing back on the task at hand, you make your way around the stage, giving each patron their own small show. John’s is the only regular you recognize. Their cash either falls at your feet or is tucked into your g-string, when you get close enough to let them that is. Of course then you have to coyly dance away from those looking to cop a feel. When you get to John, he removes his cigarette briefly to exhale smoke, before slipping it back in.

You crawl toward him, breasts barely contained by your too small bra.

John’s smirk widens and you bite your lip, raising your eyebrow questioningly. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a twenty, offering it to you. Really? A twenty? That’s laughable. You give him a pointed look, but then he fans the bill ever so slightly and now you see two more twenties with it.

Throwing him a wink, you take the cash between your teeth, gently pulling it out of his hand as you sit back on your heels. Gaze firmly fixated on his, you tuck the money into the small pocket in your bra as you carefully slide off the stage. Other patrons hiss and make noises of disappointment at the show’s abrupt end, which you ignore in favor of taking John’s offered hand.

With a sultry smile and promising hip sway, you lead him through the throngs of people, to the private rooms in the back. He slips past you into the tiny booth and you turn to close the curtain, taking a quick look to make sure no one is watching or following. Only a security guard takes notice, though he doesn’t seem particularly interested.

Once you draw the curtains, you glance over your shoulder at John. “Wasn’t expecting you tonight, sweets,” you drawl, slowly turning around. He’s closer than you anticipate and you have to stop short so you don’t collide with him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Oh trust me, love. The pleasure is all mine,” John smirks. He removes his cigarette and puts it out in the nearby ashtray.

As he reaches to touch you, you place a hand on his chest and shove him so he’s sitting down. “Cameras, lovely,” you say, reaching behind you to undo the clasp of your bra. The strip of fabric falls to the floor. “No audio, but plenty of visuals.”

John gives a nod of understanding, chancing a quick glance around. You see him note where the cameras are before his attention returns to you. “How’ve you been, love?”

“Oh, you know me,” you grin, slowly swaying to the music. “What can I do for you then? You only pay for a private dance when you want something.”

“As much as I would love for this to be a social visit, sadly I am on a case,” John says, watching every movement. You step in a little closer so he’s forced to crane his neck up to look at you. “Got a few questions I’m hoping you can answer.”

“Ask away,” you say, straddling his lap, your knees pressing into the soft cushions. You can feel the heat from his skin through the thin cotton of his pants and it’s tantalizing. It conjures all sorts of memories from your past exploits.

“Looking for a bloke who comes here often,” John says. He lean back to enjoy the sight of your rolling hips. “Little blighter by the name of Anton.”

“Why? Did he cross you?” you ask.

John chuckles. “Something like that,” he says. “Had a run in a few years ago and he may know where I can find his former boss. Didn’t properly scare him off last time, so it seems he’s still skulking about.”

“Well that’s too bad,” you lament, drawing in closer. You nearly press your chest to his, but then his warm hands are slowly trailing up your thighs and you have to knock them away. “No touching, remember? Not here.”

“Sorry, love,” John grins. “Force of habit. It’s so hard not to.”

It’s your turn to laugh slightly, getting off his lap, only to turn and roll your hips backwards, taunting him. You swear you hear a sharp inhale. “Is it, Johnny?” you tease. “Is it hard?”

“Getting harder by the second. Maybe I can show you later when you get off work,” is his gruff response.

“Maybe,” you say. “So, what’s this Anton look like?”

“I’ve got a picture on my phone—”

Hearing the rustling of his pants, you turn back around and straddle his lap again. “Don’t take the phone out,” you hiss in a low voice. “Cameras, John. If they know I’m feeding you information, they’ll kill us both.”

John sighs. “You need to find a new club, love,” he says.

“Not what we’re discussing,” you remind him, placing your hands on the wall behind his head, effectively trapping his body with yours. “Describe the guy.”

“Thin, messy hair, bug eyes, twitchy,” John lists.

“That’s nearly everyone who looks humanoid,” you say.

“He’s a soul broker,” John says, though he’s become distracted by the sight of your breasts which are currently eye-level. He follows their bounce as if hypnotized. “I suspect he’s on the run from the man downstairs after he broke a contract.”

Now that does ring a bell. You vaguely recall hearing him talk to some of the other patrons about it, trying to find someone interested in hiring him so he could get back into the First’s good graces. “Oh yeah, I’ve seen him,” you say, leaning down so your forehead brushes John’s. Without warning you briefly grind down on his lap, making him gasp. His hips buck, seeking more friction, but you’re already gone, sitting up straight and raising your arms over your head. “Actually, he should be coming in soon. Want me to lure him outside for you?”

“Could you?” John asks. You see him grip the seat to keep from grabbing you like he so desperately wants. “Really need that information from him.”

“Sure thing,” you purr, spinning quickly so you can brush the front of his black pants with your backside. You glance over your shoulder to watch the expression on his face. His pupils are blown wide and his tongue darts out to wet his dry lips. “It’s going to cost you of course.”

“I thought that’s what this dance was for,” John teases.

You chuckle. “Conspiracy to interrogate a customer isn’t included,” you tell him.

“Bollocks. You’re gonna drain me dry, you are.”

You turn back to face him, this time getting closer than you’ve gotten all night. His breath practically tickles your lips as you lean in. “That’s the plan, Johnny,” you whisper. “Also, wouldn’t be the first time. Come home with me after the job and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

John’s smirk is back and he wiggles his eyebrows. “Guess that’s a ‘yes’ instead of just a maybe? I’d be a bloody lunatic to say no,” he says.

“Yes, yes you would,” you agree. “So, I’ll dance for this Anton, ask him to meet me out back, and when he shows up you do your thing. Seems straightforward.”

“You should know by now, love,” John says. “Nothing I do is ever ‘straight’.”

Laughing, you slink off his lap and extend your hand to help him to his feet. “Likewise, Johnny,” you say. “Likewise.”

Luring Anton is way easier than it probably should have been. The scrawny man is practically drooling by the time you whisper in his ear and you swear he’s going to cream himself right then. He doesn’t (you hope) and you saunter away, catching John’s eye from across the room. He throws you a wink and slips out through one of the side doors.

Once your shift is over, you head backstage to get dressed and count your tips. It takes you a while to gather yourself, so by the time you leave, it’s extremely late. Anton is waiting exactly where you told him to, and you almost feel sorry for the bastard.

Stalking towards him, you smile. “Hey there, handsome,” you say.

“Hey,” Anton says excitedly. “So we gonna do this here? I think the alley’s pretty empty. We may want to go around the corner so no one can see. How much do you want?”

You shove your hands into the pockets of your jacket, cocking your head to the side. “Oh, you poor sap,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m sort of sorry about this.”

Anton’s eyes widen and he spins around just as John shows himself. “Hello, Anton,” he grins around a fresh cigarette. “Been a long time.”

Anton turns back to you, anger in his eyes. “You, bitch!” he snaps, and takes a swing.

Without so much as blinking, you dodge it, hands still in your pockets. “John, did you see that?” you say, eyes never leaving Anton’s face. “I think he just tried to assault me.”

Anton’s anger fades and he suddenly looks terrified, as if he just realizes the mistake he’s made. His eyes dart around the alley, looking for any means of escape and unfortunately finding none.

“That he did, love,” John says. “Really stupid idea if you ask me. And a surprising move. You must have grown some stones since the last time I saw you. Wouldn’t peg you for someone to try to take a swing, especially at a woman.”

It’s comical how quickly Anton goes down when you sink your fist into his jaw. It’s even funnier when your knee breaks his nose and he collapses in a heap on the ground. Grabbing him by the hair, you hold him up as John casually strolls forward, sending cigarette ash on the pavement with a flick of his wrist.

“What do you want from me?” Anton asks, whimpering as blood runs out of his nose. “I already did what you asked. I ate that contract.”

“That was three years ago, mate,” John says. “Water under the bridge. I do need some information from you though.”

“I don’t know anything!” Anton immediately denies, shaking his head as much as you’ll let him. Your nails are digging into his scalp and you flex your fingers threatening. He whimpers louder. “I swear I don’t!”

John laughs as he squats down to be face-to-face. “I haven’t even asked any questions, Anton,” he says. “Which leads me to believe you’re already lying to me.” He puts the cigarette back into his mouth. “Where’s Midnite? How did he contact you for a deal?”

“I don’t remember! That was years ago!” Anton babbles. “And I’m sure as hell not in touch with him. Not after you blew my deal! No one will do business with me anymore!”

“Oh boo hoo,” you mock. “Poor soul broker can’t take advantage of desperate people anymore. What a shame.”

“Says the stripper...” Anton mutters.

Anger flaring, you kneel down, grabbing his wrist with your free hand and twisting it behind his back. “Don’t you ever compare yourself to me!” you snap. “People know what they’re getting into when they watch me dance. You prey on people who are waiting for a miracle. People who don’t understand just what selling their souls mean. Because of you, they’re ripped away from their lives and sent down to hell.”

“Listen, Anton,” John snaps, grabbing the front of the man’s shirt and forcing him to look at him. “Answer my bloody questions and I won’t have my friend remove your entrails. I’ve seen her do it before. She’s lured many a men to their deaths.”

“W-What do you mean?”

“It used to be my thing,” you tell him. “Granted, they all deserved it one way or another. It’s amazing what you can do with a melodic voice and swaying hips.”

“S-She’s a S-Siren?” Anton asks fearfully.

“Ex-Siren,” you say, with a shrug. “See, Johnny here helped me escape that life. So I owe him pretty big. Especially after we had that amazing weekend together.”

“And a fair few since then.”

“Very true,” you say. You dig your nails harder into Anton’s head. “Although I may not be in that life anymore, every now and then, Anton, I get that urge—”

“Alright, alright!” Anton squeaks. “I-I-I really don’t know where Midnite is. No one has seen him in a long time. I tried to reach out hoping to beg for another job but haven’t heard anything. He gave me a burner phone eons ago that I kept just in case. But that’s all I know. I swear!”

“Where’s the phone?” John demands.

“In my pocket!” Anton exclaims.

John digs his hands into the pockets of the dirty jacket, drawing out a phone and some more cash. He tucks both into his trench coat and gives Anton a wide grin, letting smoke blow into his face. “Good boy,” he says, patting his cheek.

You slowly release Anton and just when the soul broker relaxes, you punch him hard enough to knock him out. Getting to your feet, you smile at John. “Got everything you needed?” you ask.

“And then some,” John comments, patting his pocket where the money is. He stands with a slight groan, dropping his cigarette on the ground and crushing it with his shoe. “Hungry, love? My treat.”

“Save your money. I’ve got food at home,” you say, linking your arm with his as you step over Anton’s unconscious frame. “Let’s go. I’ve got a large apartment and a brand new shower I want to show you.”

“I am all yours, love,” John says, drawing you closer.

You live quite a ways away from the club, but you don’t mind the drive this time. John can’t seem to stop grinning, regaling you with tales of his recent exploits. There’s that familiar energy in the air, the kind that lets you know you’re about to have an evening of fun.

John lets out a low whistle when he sees your place. “Just how much are you making at that club?” he asks as you drag him towards the bathroom.

“Enough,” you say. “Come on. I want to see you naked and covered with soap.”

Chuckling at your enthusiasm, John hangs back for a second, giving your hand a squeeze. “Hold on, love. Let me just call Chas real quick so he knows I’ve got the info.”

“Suit yourself,” you say, letting go of his hand and removing your jacket. It falls to the floor while you kick out of your shoes. “I’ll just start without you then.”

Clothes are stripped off and forgotten as you start the shower. The hot water feels spectacular and you take a few minutes to just stand under the spray, letting the sweat and smell of that place wash away. John’s right, you should find another club. Maybe one closer to home so you don’t have to drive across town in the dead of night. Enjoying the peace and quiet for a moment, you hum softly to yourself as you wash your hair. Eventually the humming turns into soft singing as you rinse away the suds.

The door to the bathroom opens and you glance through the glass doors as John’s warped figure makes its way towards you. Smirking to yourself, you’re pleased that your songs still call him, even if he doesn’t realize it. He wastes no time removing his clothes and slipping into the shower. Now that you’re not at work, his hands immediately reach out to slide around you, pulling your back flush against his chest.

“Bloody hell, you feel marvelous,” he coos in your ear, nuzzling your neck.

You slide a hand in his hair and turn your face to capture his lips. He tastes of cigarettes per usual, and it takes some getting used to. But his quick tongue stroking yours more than makes up for it, as do his hands as they slide up to cup your breasts. Breaking the kiss, you present your neck to him while passing the bar of soap across yourself.

He rubs the suds into a rich lather, fingers tweaking and tugging your nipples into hard nubs. You place the soap on the shelf, before covering his hands with your own to help. His mouth has found your neck and he laps away the water, one of his hands dropping between your legs.

Gasping at the touch, you grind back against him, feeling the weight of his cock pressing into the back of your thigh. Two fingers spread your slit open so a third can teasingly press inside. Instantly your knees buckle and you have to grip the shelf to keep yourself from falling. He fingers you with practiced ease, occasionally pressing down on your clit. Soon, the wetness between your thighs isn't just from the shower.

“Always so maddening when I can’t touch you proper,” John grunts.

“That’s the point,” you smirk. Turning to face him, you fling your arms around his neck, pushing until his back is pressed against the wall. “But we’re not at work anymore. You can touch me all you want. You can even fuck me. Which I highly suggest you do right this second.”

“Don’t want to play a bit first?” John teases.

“Nope, did that already,” you say. You lift your foot onto the ledge of the tub, pressing your pelvis to his. His cock jumps and brushes your folds, forcing you to bite back a whimper. “We’ll have plenty of time to play later.”

John kisses you roughly, both hands reaching down to grab your ass. Every nerve is on fire and you're so ready to let it consume you. He grinds himself between your legs vigorously, seeking the friction you so brutally denied him earlier. Suddenly, you find your roles reversed and you’re the one against the wall.

It's always such a fun game. You love how you both try to wrestle dominance from the other, pushing the other until they submit. Which never takes long, because you both enjoy it way too much.

John grips your thighs and you follow through, lifting your legs to wrap around his waist. He works his cock into you with small, careful thrusts, shifting to make sure he doesn’t slip.

Gradually you feel him fill you and it’s deliciously torturous. Your hand tangles in his wet hair as you smash your mouth to his. Tongues dancing, your bodies rock together as he starts to thrust. The weight of his body against yours makes your skin tingle, especially when those firm hands grab your hips. He withdraws a bit, only to bury himself all the way. You moan loudly, head thrown back.

John takes you against the tile, each thrust deep and oh so satisfying. But you know he can’t hold you up for very long, so before he drops you, you lower your legs to stand. The loss of him is sad, but immediately remedied when he spins you around. You bend over slightly, hands resting on the wall as John grips your waist again. He practically slams himself into you, hips making a loud slap. Water is pouring over both of you, making your movements slick and fluid.

You can’t stop your noises as John fucks you from behind. He’s also grunting, alternating between quick and drawn out thrusts. One moment he’s pounding you with animalistic ferocity, and the next he grinding into you so he’s as deep as he possibly can be. Your hands are slipping on the wet tile, but you don’t want to stop. Especially when two fingers start to furiously rub your clit.

Your vision starts to blur and you can feel your body tensing as the pleasure continues to build. His free hand slides down the dip of your spine, lifting to give your ass cheek a brief, wet slap. The prickle of pain only adds to the feeling of slick fingers tugging on your nub. Without warning, his thumb circles your pucker and with the tiniest amount of pressure, you tumble into oblivion, eyes closed as you come hard.

Body locked in place as you ride the waves of pleasure, you’re powerless to do anything other than moan while John continues to take you. It’s nearly a full two minutes before he withdraws suddenly, and you feel the warmth of his relief coat the back of your thighs, immediately washed away by the shower.

Shaking, you sink onto the floor of tub along with John, both trying to remember how to breathe properly. His kisses are sloppy and open-mouthed, but you accept them regardless, body tingling with the after effects of his talented hands and cock.

“Mmmm, that was divine,” you purr, throwing your leg over his waist.

John grins lazily, giving your backside another slap. “Always is, love,” he pants. “Always is.”

#ladyfoggdrabbles #constantine tv show fanfic #john constantine fanfic

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