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slasherrabbitmadness · 3 years

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Victorian DILF Brahms x Female Reader

Slasher Victorian AU series Featuring Brahms Heelshire.

Divider by https://firefly-graphics.tumblr.com/

Series: Don't forget who you belong to.

Chapter 1

Prompt: 79

Brahms taps his foot under his large, dark oak desk. He taps his pencil on a stack of papers, legal documents for his clients, ranging from the mundane like Mr. Krueger complaining about his neighbor Mr. Voorhees, ranging from 'standing there, menacingly' to ' He breathed in my direction.' To the extreme as an abuse case against a young vulnerable girl named Carrie.

Brahms pinches the bridge of his nose, the paper in front of him the most important and he was to not be paid for solving the problem. He picks up the paper to re-read the sections that stuck out the most.

We are advising you on your son, Lawrence, we regret to inform you of his wild, ruckus-filled behavior. We understand that young boys have a degree of tomfoolery to them but he, Lawrence, is turning out to be one who fancies himself an urchin.

Brahms grunts, eyes scanning the page,

He recently had put candy, that was similar in appearance to the headmistresses medication.

Brahms chuckles,

He also has set up a boxing club. He charges the boys a pence a piece for admittance and takes bets against the two boys fighting.

Brahms bit his lip, his cheeks turning pink. He clears his throat as a co-worker glances his way.

His face fell as he re-read the final line.

If these behaviors fail to be corrected over the upcoming break, we recommend a crammer school for young Lawrence.

Brahms slams the paper down on the desk, he leans back in his chair, gripping the arm of the chair, "Crammer school" he seethes. Brahms made a vow to Gerti, to never let their son end up at such a place, he was to be a gentleman and a gentleman comes from a gentlemanly background. Not a Crammer school for the slow and sluggish, a Gentleman's brute offspring to be fed into the army for slaughter.

"Any plans for the night?"

Brahms snaps his head towards his co-worker, Mr. Bates.

"Any plans for the night, Brahms? Taking the maid out for another moving picture?" Mr. Bates grins and nudges Brahms's shoulder with his elbow.

"Ah, no, she's been," Brahms twirls the pencil in his fingers, "Busy."

Brahms glances at his desk, the picture of his late wife and son.

Mr. Bates's eyes follow Brahms's, "You know, I'm sure Gerti doesn't mind. Lawrence adored her, yes, I'm sure that boy is dying for a new one," He rests his clammy hand on Brahms's shoulder, "After all, a boy's best friend is his mother."

Brahms recoils, "By God, Norman, listen to yourself," Brahms brushes off Norman's hand as he stands, "A Boy needs friends his own age," He grabs his important papers, stacking them loosely, he yanks his briefcase from under the desk to slam it on his desk, "Not a mother as a friend."

You gleefully prepare the ginger beer, the old beige and brown bottles embedded with the Heelshire name. You scan the current bottle in your hands, "1771" you read aloud, "My goodness."

You delicately place the plates on the table, humming as you admired the beautiful set. "This costs more than one week's wage." Another tentative glance, "Which is why..." You twirl in the drawing-room, "I'm getting another job!"

Your mind raced back to last week...

The carriage ride was bumpy, every bump from a pothole to a large rock made your already uneasy stomach flip.

"Almost there, miss!" The coach called out to you, "Sorry for the ride, Daniel has made a donation to get the road fix, beautiful ain't it?"

"Yes, that's very kind of him." You opened the flyer in your hand, you read the bold letters over the top,

Apple Pickers wanted weekend work. Only at Daniel Candy's Farm

"Tis nice of him to hire those with no work history or those already with a job, ain't it?"

"Yes, that's very kind of him." You repeated. You brought your attention to the upcoming estate, the large white manor stood out among the hues of greens, from the grass to the pine and oak trees in a neat line leading to the entrance of the manor.

The coachman helped you out of the carriage, "Now, miss, memba' to curtsey and all that."

"Thank you, and thank you for being so kind."

"I only hire the best."

Your breath caught in your throat, eye bugged out to the tall man who appeared to appear as if from nowhere. You looked up, the source of the voice, the deep baritone still carried itself within you.

"My coachman, I only hire the best, shall you prove me right?" His voice was like thick honey, his onyx eyes were warm, his hand was large with not a hint of labor upon it.

You froze, swallowed a hesitant hello, hand reached for his, "It's is very nice to meet you," His hand melded in yours, his thumb rubbed the back of your hand in small delicate circles, "Mr. Robitaille"

"Daniel works just fine." He flashed a bright smile, his eyes twinkled as they stared into yours.

"Daniel," you bite your lip, "It's nice to meet you, Daniel." and curtseyed.

He led you along a light dirt path adjacent to the abundant apple trees. The birds in the trees sang a beautiful melody, they danced between the trees, the songs becoming more jovial as you and Daniel walked.

"You'll be working for the next three weeks, Thursdays," He waved to one of the workers picking apples, "Fridays," He nodded at a male with a wheelbarrow full of apples, "and Saturdays." He placed his large hand on your upper back, "If that is alright with Mr. Heelshire?"

You squeaked at the mention of Brahms, "Ah, yes,"

"Hesitation my dear, would he not be so accepting of a free woman working where she pleases?"

You shook your head, tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "It's not that, he just..."

"He doesn't know." Daniel finished for you with a knowing laugh.

You shied away from his words, eyes took in the mass of workers, happily picking apples, chatting with one other, the made it look easy being up twenty feet high on the ladder to pick the apples.

"Pray tell," Daniel removed his hand from your upper back, "Why do you need this job?"

"Well, money." You said earnestly. "I could use the extra money is all."

"For family?" He asked, accepting an apple from one of his workers. He admired the deep red color, "A gift for Mr. Heelshire?"

You wrung your hands together. You chocked in a breath, "It's private."

Daniel stopped, a low chuckle as you had noticed he stopped. He grinned as you fiddled with your fingers, face turned to the ground, a coy smile over your delicate features.

"What's his name?" Daniel stepped to you, his baritone sent a shiver down your spine. "I'd like to hear it be spoken from such shy lips." Daniel rolled the apple in his hand, nudged it towards you, gesturing for you to take it.

You hesitated, your hands shook as you tentatively grabbed the apple. You stared at the red fruit, the color deep and rich, "His name is Daniel Cain, well, Dan, he goes by Dan."

A startled laugh erupted from Daniel. You jumped, eyes darted to the workers around you, their eyes fell upon Daniel. "Do tell, does this Dan Cain happen to be studying at University of London?"

You stammered out, "Yes,"

"How admirable. So tell me, a gift for the young man?"

"No, it's." You roll the apple in your hand, you looked up at Daniel, "A new dress, I wish to look beautiful, well," You grimaced, "At least while with him."

Daniel frowned, his hand reached for yours, you gasped as he held firm, "Pardon for being cliche, but you are already beautiful, How your hair shines in the sun, to how the sun lights up your eyes, your timid nature is quite endearing." He winked at you.

"Come," Daniel gestured, "I shall introduce you to Carrie, she'll be your site boss for the next three weeks."

You jump from the front door slams open, Brahms shouting as he entered, "Please come to the foyer, my love."

You cringe, the nickname spills so easily from him, saying it like it was second nature, "Yes, Sir, be there soon."

"This instant, my love. I need you here."

Your eyes linger on the half-set table, too busy with your dancing and reminiscing to fully finish your job. "Coming, Sir!"

You walk out of the drawing-room, feet picking up pace as you make your way down the narrow hall, the green carpet embroidered with gold string, bought in Egypt, fairly recently. The walls a dark wood, matching the soil in the garden. The small lamps light up the hallway in a yellow hue. The walls lined with portraits of Heelshires past, their eyes unnerved you with every quick walkthrough you made through the hallway.

Brahms sighs and lets his shoulders relax as you step into view. He removes his jacket, tossing it on the coat rack, "Are the Victorian sandwiches done? Is the Ginger Beer ready?" He asks while loosening his tie, his adam's apple bobbed, "Hm?"

You wince "I was a little distracted, I'm terribly sorry, Sir."

"Brahms, we've been over this, my love, you may call me Brahms."

"Sorry, Brahms." You choke out his name, "Is there anything you need of me at this moment?" You place a warm smile over your face, eyes looking at him as he took off his custom-made shoes.

"Is it so bad for a man to want a woman to greet him when he's come after a hard day's work?" His bright smile made rock in place, heart thumping rapidly in your chest. "You know how good it feels to see your warm face as I get home?"

"I can't say I do." You answer earnestly.

"Do you not feel a sense of joy as I come home?"

You squint your eyes, gaze adverting his, you cough "Yes, I do." You look back at him, "I am simply your maid, Si-Brahms." You gesture to him to follow you down the hall, "I feel great joy when I see you come home to your...home."

"Our home. This place is just as much mine as it is yours." Brahms steps in front of you, gesturing for you to follow him. "You sleep here, eat here, are here every weekend..." He glances at the paintings in the dimly lit hall, "I mean, you must like it if you are here in your free time."

You flinch, nails scratching in the back of your hand, "Uhm, Yes."

Brahms reaches the table as he stares back at you, his eyes narrow, "Sit." He pulls out the ornate chair, his hand padding down the expensive leather, "Enjoy lunch with me."

You smooth your dress from behind as you sit, scooting up as he pushed you closer to the table. Brahms rounded the table, a jovial smile as he sat himself across from you, delicately placing a napkin on his lap.

"Now, how has your day been?" He starts, shoving a victoria sandwich in his mouth, rolling his eyes in ecstasy, "Mhm, my love this is delicious, you outdid yourself."

You giggle, shaking your head, "No, Brahms it's nothing. Just same old same old."

"You sell yourself too short." Brahms clears his throat, "This weekend," He wiped his hands of crumbs, "My son is coming home, he hasn't been excelling at school like he should be," He took a sip of the ginger beer, an approving smile after he gulped, "So I shall be sending him to a nearby crammer school."

You nod, "I'm sure in the end it'll work out for the best." He sips the beer, letting the taste linger on your tongue, "After all, probably be for the best he comes back home. I can imagine boarding school can be isolating after a death," You froze, eyes wide in panic as you glance at Brahms, "I'm so sorry." You place down the glass of beer.

Brahms laughs, the corner of his lips pulling up, "No no, don't be sorry, it's very true." He sips again, "Very true. Ever since Gerti crossed onto the other side, little Lawrence has been lost." He coughs, "He'll be more than thrilled to be home, hid loving father, his second favourite lady ready to greet him with open arms."

"This weekend?" you ask, "This Saturday?"

Brahms stills, his eyes squint, "Yes, I already said this weekend."

Your throat constricts, a burning sensation spreads throughout you. You look away, eyes catching on the ornate couch.

Brahms reaches his hand out to you, his thumb running on the back of your hand, "My love, what?" He raises his brow, leaning in, "What's the problem with Saturday?"

"I have something private to attended to." You state, eyes falling back to his, "I won't be here to greet Lawrence." You swallow, the burning searing through you, "I'm terribly sorry."

Brahms stood up, one stride and he was at your side, "Tell, why won't you be there? It mustn't be family matters, they live awfully far away, days by train." He leans in, "Something in town perhaps?"

You nod with a smile, "I shall be away this coming Friday and days thereafter, a flower picking job just a town over, the lady of the manor is allowing me room and board, very sweet of her." You sip more ginger beer, hands shaking as you brought the glass to your chapped lips.

Brahms places his large hand on your upper back, "Flower picking job?"

"Yes."

"What flower?"

"Excuse me?"

"What flower are you picking?" Brahms leans in closer to you, his other hand resting on the table, "I'm sure you know."

You grin at him, "Narcissus, beautiful flowers." You gulp back more ginger beer.

"That's a nice flower. Beautiful." He leans in closer, his eyes holding a critical glint. "Pray tell, how will you be picking a flower out of season?" He smiles down at you, licking his teeth, his hand clenches around yours. Your mouth agape, breath held. You choke as he leans closer to you, "I know apples are in season."

The air felt thick, the air from your lungs fell from your mouth in rapid breaths, the grandfather clock ticked, each one was felt in your spine. You jump as the grandfather clock thunders out his five pm chime.

You breathe in, "It's only for three weekends," You start, "No more than that."

Brahms chuckles, his fingers pressing into your back, "No more than that...why?" He rests his elbow on the table, chin in his palm, "Why the work when I could easily up your pay."

Your lips in a tight line, eyes dry, bugging out as you stare into his, "Savings." You lie.

Brahms slides his arm around your shoulder, his bicep flexing on the back of your neck, his hand running up and down your arm. He leans into your ear, "If by savings, do you mean Dan?"

#Brahms heelshire #Brahms x reader #Brahms x you #Brahms imagine #Brahms heelshire x reader #Brahms heelshire x you #Brahms heelshire imagine #Female reader #sfw #Candyman #daniel robitaille #Victorian era #Victorian AU #edwardian era #Dain Cain

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captain-josslett · 4 years

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Broken Melody - Part One

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven,

Summary: Grammy Award winning Emma Danvers is the first to say she has a pretty good life. But what happens when it implodes around her and it looks like things will never be the same again?

Words: 10k+

Warnings: None... yet...

Pairings: Emma Danvers x Lena Luthor (Eventual)

Right! I wrote the beginning of this fic months ago. It’s going to get angsty so be ready. But the purpose of the first part is to introduce this version of B!D, a well known singer in a grammy award winning band. I honestly had a great time writing this first part!

Thank you for reading and let me know if you wanna be tagged or any general feedback will be greatly appreciated.

For @thewitchandtheassassin, @natasha-danvers, @life-is-hella-unfair, @finleyfray, @supergirl-writingz,

The screeching of Emma Danver’s alarm makes her hazel green eyes shoot open. Normally on a Saturday she wouldn’t have her alarm set and would laze in bed. Especially when she is home from her latest world tour. However, today was going to be a day filled with the Superfriends, and she can’t wait!

Emma had mentioned at the latest game night that she wanted to check out a beach over an hour away from the city and how they could make a day of it. Kara, her Supergirl sister, instantly accepted the idea while bouncing up and down with excitement. Mostly everyone else agreed, happy to know the summer sun would be in full force that day.

Well they still had to persuade a few people, mainly Lena and Alex. But when Emma and Kara both knelt in front of the women with their identical Danvers pouts they were forcibly won over.

Emma smiles as she stretches and runs her hands through her wavy blonde hair. She quickly gets out of bed and opens her curtains. Sighing happily and just enjoying the sunshine blazing into her penthouse bedroom. Emma can totally see how Kara gets her Supergirl powers from the sun, how it recharges her and makes her the Woman of Steel.

After a few more minutes Emma turns and grabs her phone. While making her way to her ensuite she messages the group chat.

Emma: Gooooooodd Mmmoooorrrrnnnniiiinnnngggg!!! How’s everyone? Seriously can’t wait for today!

After having a quick shower Emma wanders back into her room and decides what to wear. She puts on her turquoise surf bikini with her tight black surfing shorts. She wears her blue jean shorts over the top, and a white tank top. She finishes her outfit off with her many bracelets, her apple watch and a layered necklace that has a star, sun and swan pendant. Symbolising each of the Danvers sisters. Alex is the star, Kara is the sun and Emma is the swan.

Swan became one of Emma’s nicknames in school due to there being a lot of Emma’s in the class. Her friends joked she was a swan princess due to doing ballet when she had asked them to come to a recital. Which they did and were in awe, but you know. Emma happily accepted the nickname, taking it as a compliment. Emma smiles as she looks at her ballet shoes strung over her mirror. ‘Another thing I need to get back into.’ Emma thinks wistfully. She still loves dancing, especially the latin styles like samba and tango. But she doesn’t have the time.

As she draws her attention to her reflection she definitely looks like a surfer chick, lean, toned and sun kissed. Which she was happily going for. She’s been dying to surf for ages but just hasn’t had the time. Her band had recently returned from a sell out world tour. And sadly most of the places they played at didn’t have beaches or the right surf. She felt sorry for her neglected surfboard in the back of the tour bus.

Her phone pings drawing her attention away from her musings. Emma laughs when she sees a few messages have already been sent.

Kara: Good morning sunshine! I’m sssoooooo excited too! Did you need me to bring anything else? I got all the food ready!

Kelly: Of course you’d have the food Kara!

Kelly: And good morning Emma! Shall I bring my swimsuit? Anyone going for a swim?

Kara: Ooo I am! And I think Emma is going to surf?

James: Why are you guys texting this early? I could have had at least another hour or more of sleep.

Alex: I agree with James… Emma, I hate you.

Emma chuckles at Alex’s message while she gets a bag ready with a change of clothes.

Emma: Love you too Alex!

Kara: Ahem… What about me?!

Emma: Love you too Kara!

Alex: You love me more though right?

Emma: No I love you both the same!

Kara: *Wink Wink*

Alex: Hey!

Nia: What am I just decoration?

Emma: No of course not Nia! I love you too!

James: What about me?

Kelly: And me!

Emma: Yes James and Kelly I love you both too.

Lena: Do you love me?

Emma pauses before she responds to Lena’s text. Honestly, she’s had a crush on her since the moment they met. But Lena is way out of Emma’s league. A CEO dating a musician and artist like Emma wouldn’t work. She’s not clever or brave like Kara or Alex.

Once when Lena had met her for lunch, Lena had explained what being a CEO entailed. Emma’s mind melted; it was so complex. Lena just laughed at her exasperated expression trying to figure it all out. “And that, my darling, is why you are an artist and I am a CEO.” Emma practically melted at Lena’s smile from across the table.

But that’s one of the things she loves about Lena, her passion for her work and drive for making the world a better place. And her smile. To Emma, Lena’s smile lights up the whole room.

Sighing Emma looks back down at her phone.

Emma: I love you the most… *Delete*

Emma: Yea I love you too. :)

‘Somewhat truthful…’ Emma thinks as she puts her phone in her pocket, grabbings her backpack, guitar case and placing it by the door. Kneeling on her sofa she pulls her surfboard up from behind, giving it a quick hug. Excitement surges through her veins at the thought of surfing the waves.

‘Rao I hope the waves are good today!’ Emma wishes as she swings the board around and accidentally knocks her recent Grammy on the floor. “Shoot!” Emma yelps and quickly drops her surfboard to pick up the award. Emma sighs in relief when she turns it over in her hands, seeing it wasn’t broken. Out of all her awards, this year's Grammy meant the most to her. The album had been a real breakthrough moment for her and the band, Axis, and they swept away the competition. Emma remembers the feeling of pride and honour when their name was called. How she and the rest of the band rushed to the stage in unison and linked arms as each said a thank you.

Emma carefully places the Grammy down and picks up her surfboard. Grabbing the rest of her stuff she locks the door behind her and takes the elevator down to her beloved yellow VW beetle. Which she affectionately calls the ‘bug’. Emma puts her stuff in the car and carefully straps the board onto the roof rack before getting into the driver's seat.

Taking her phone out she sends Lena and Kara a quick message to say she’s on her way to pick them up. Alex and Kelly are picking up Sam. Who did try and persuade Ruby to come but now as a teenager, Ruby has better things to do then hang out with her Mom and her Mom’s friends. James is giving J'onn, Nia and Brainy a ride.

Emma quickly plugs in her phone and chooses to blare out her playlist of her favourite songs. As she pulls out of the underground parking garage she starts singing and making dramatic hand movements as she dances along. Not caring if people see her.

Soon she’s outside Lena’s apartment building and as she turns the music down Lena Luthor herself was exiting the building. Emma’s mouth drops open with how beautiful Lena looks. And how different she looks too! Gone were the suits and smart wear of a CEO. Instead Lena was wearing a thigh length red patterned skirt that matched her red lips with a black crop top. To finish the look off she wore a black bowler hat.

When Lena opens the passenger door Emma quickly closes her mouth.

“Hi Em!” Lena smiles brightly at the blonde and leans over to place a kiss on Emma’s cheek. Making the blonde blush and causing her brain short circuits.

“Hi Lee!” Emma says more high pitched than normal.

Lena grins at her in amusement. ‘Rao I could get lost in those green eyes.’

“Er, Em… We gonna go?” Lena teases causing Emma to jump and pull away from the pavement. “So, how has your week been?”

“Fine. Got a commission to complete before Thursday but I’m almost done. I actually have to thank you, it's the lovely couple we met at the recent gala we went to.”

Whenever Emma is back in the city Lena always invites her to the gala’s. Surprisingly Emma finds she enjoys them, especially when it's one of Lena’s charity events. Lena and Emma are both thrilled to find Emma has a talent in being able to persuade the rich attendees to donate their money. Even from those who have never donated before. “It’s the Danvers charms!” Emma would laugh and wink at Lena when the raven haired women would be dumbfounded at the cheque in her hand from a rival.

“Mr and Mrs Green?” Lena asks, remembering how the couple were enthralled with Emma’s work as an artist and musician. Their donation had been one of the biggest of that night. ‘No surprise there.’ Lena smirks.

“Yea them.” Emma nods while concentrating on driving. She does love the city life but driving through it can be such a pain.

“What did they ask for?” Lena inquires while picking at a loose thread in her skirt.

“Mainly a seascape of a view they had back in the UK. Thatchers rock… I think.” To be honest Emma had been surprised by the Green’s enthusiasm when she showed them her portfolio. How they were willing to wait for Emma’s tour to finish before getting their commission. It had been made easier that there was a reference to work on. Even though she has never been to that part of the UK. Mainly the cities dotting around the island. And even though Emma doesn’t need the money she enjoys doing something different. Her art gives her another escape.

“What style are you doing it in?” Lena asks as she bobs her head along with Emma to the music. Something she’s never done before until getting rides with Emma. Something about the blonde’s carefree attitude rubbing off on her.

“I’m using oil this time. I think it works better with the layering and it can really make the sea look like it’s moving you know? Well… If I get it right.” Emma realises she started to ramble and quickly cuts herself off. Certain Lena wouldn’t want to hear the techniques Emma has been using. “If all goes to plan the painting should look different with the different lighting of the day.”

“I am sure you will darling.” Lena smiles widely at her.

Emma smiles back. Feeling butterflies zoom round her stomach at the term of endearment.

“Thanks Lee.” Emma taps her thumbs to the beat while they wait for a light to turn green.

“How-”

“How’d-”

They both stop when they realise they both started talking.

“You go.” Emma motions Lena to continue.

“How’s everything going with the band?”

“It’s going really, really well! We are already writing songs for the next album. But we’ve also really benefited having this time off too.” Emma grins thinking of the other band members.

In some ways they’ve become another little family to her. The four other guys were already formed and were looking for a female influence. Emma saw the flyer and thought ‘why not!’ before calling them and doing an audition. The guys were blown away by her voice and talent. Unanimously they agreed she can become a member of the band and ultimately making her the lead singer. That was over eight years ago when Emma was eighteen and Axis were well known in certain areas of America but when Emma joined their popularity skyrocketed.

However fame didn’t matter to Emma, but she loves performing and writing music. Especially when she gets fan messages about how her songs have helped someone get through a difficult time and gave them hope. She always makes sure to save those messages.

“Sounds exciting.” Lena agrees, nodding her head.

“Speaking of deals.” Emma pauses to concentrate on the traffic. “How’d the deal with the Japanese go?”

Even though Emma wasn’t looking at Lena she could feel the big eye roll the raven haired beauty did.

“That good huh?” Emma jokes but feels for the CEO.

“Honestly it was a nightmare. They kept going around in circles and I’m just getting over the migraine!” Lena dramatically rubs her forehead. Which Emma misses from looking at the road.

“Ah no.” Emma frowns as she quickly looks at Lena. “Are you sure you’re okay to come to the beach?”

“Yes I’m fine.” Lena smirks at Emma’s concern.

“Okay, I am glad you’re coming.” Emma smiles brightly back.

Lena raises an eyebrow. “Did I have a choice?” Lena teases.

“Yes! But it would have made me very sad if you hadn’t.” Emma pouts dramatically and pulls off her best puppy dog eyes.

“And that’s why I said yes.” Lena chuckles at how adorable Emma looks.

Soon they pull up to Kara’s building and she’s already waiting outside. Piles of bags by her feet. Both Lena and Emma laugh at the sight. “Joys of being Supergirl I guess!” Emma jokes about Kara’s metabolism.

As she parks Emma can’t help but remember the day Kara became a part of the Danvers family.

Emma had taken to the alien quicker then Alex, especially as there was only a year age difference between the two blondes. She also found she became the bridge between Alex and Kara. Over time the three learned how to live with the new dynamic and would soon enjoy each other's company. Kara and Alex would laugh when little Emma would cheerfully yell that they were the three musketeers as they played with wooden swords or practically any activity that involved the three of them. Even making hot chocolate together.

When Kara became Supergirl Emma almost had a fit. She’d been in New York for a sold out week of gigs when she had seen the news in the early hours of the morning. Frantically she called Kara to see if she was okay and getting even more frantic when she realised Alex had been on the plane too. The two sisters were eventually able to calm her down after a lot of sobbing and panic from her end. When Emma returned to National City she held onto her sisters a lot tighter that day. Eventually the three ended up falling asleep together on the sofa. Emma in the middle of the two as they wrapped their arms around each other.

Emma’s musings were interrupted when Kara slammed the car boot down hard. Causing the car to bounce.

“Careful Kara!” Emma yells, knowing full well her sister would hear her.

“Sorry little one! I’m just so excited!” Kara squeals as she opens the backseat door before leaping in.

“Hey I’m only a year younger than you!” Emma frowns into the rear view mirror to glare at her sister. Who just sticks her tongue back at her while clicking in her seat belt.

They continue the hour long drive to the beach, chatting and singing along to Emma’s playlist. Lena watches on in amazement as Kara sings the melody and Emma does some beautiful harmonies around her. They all laugh and cheer when Queen’s ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ comes on.

“Come on Lena! Join in!” Emma yells while she puts the volume right up. So Lena does. When the rock part of the song comes on all three of them dance and headbang along. Lena laughs as she feels so carefree. She pauses when Emma starts singing passionately to the next verse.

So you think you can stop me and spit in my eye So you think you can love me and leave me to die Oh, baby, can’t do this to me, baby Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here

Honestly she could listen to Emma’s voice for hours. Which is probably why she secretly went to as many of Emma’s gigs as possible. But every time she would go to reveal herself to Emma she would back peddle and leave. Knowing that someone as talented as Emma was way out of her league. Her pride for her friend as she watched with the Superfriends at Kara’s apartment as Axis won Grammy after Grammy, award after award. How they screamed with joy and hugged each other after each announcement. Plus Lena thought someone as pure and happy as Emma wouldn’t do well with someone broken like Lena. So she keeps her feelings to herself and tries to be content with being Emma’s friend.

Lena’s heart warms as she remembers meeting Emma for the first time over 3 years ago. She had been at one of her first game nights with the Superfriends when a knock sounded on Kara’s door. Everyone had looked at each other in surprise as no one was missing. Lena watched Kara bounce towards the door and as she opened it a continuous scream of surprise and happiness escaped Kara’s mouth. This caused Alex to rush over in response and suddenly scream as well. The two sisters practically tackled the blonde beauty out into the hallway where they fell into a laughing heap. Kara kissed the blonde’s head over and over while Alex held onto her like a koala bear and kissed her cheek over and over.

Finally they untangled and Kara dragged the other blonde into her apartment. Excitedly introducing everyone to her little sister, Emma. The Superfriends each individually greeted the newcomer and when it came to Lena’s turn Emma had stepped forward and gave her an affectionate hug. Laughing that Kara has told Emma so much about her that she feels she already knows Lena well. When Emma stepped away from the hug they both ignored the warm feelings racing around their bodies. Lena had to agree as both the Danvers sister’s spoke of Emma fondly and how proud they were of Emma’s success. Lena hadn’t told anyone this but she bought all of Emma's music to listen to it after Kara gushed about her sister. She instantly fell in love with the voice coming through the speakers.

Kara soon asked why Emma was in National City and Emma excitedly revealed that Axis was moving to National City. Lena again ignored the feeling of excitement that shot through her. And again Emma was tackled to the floor as both Alex and Kara leapt towards her in celebration.

“Lena?” Kara’s voice breaks through her thinking and Lena turns to look back at her best friend. Listening intently as Kara excitedly explains a new prototype Brainy is designing to help Kara not be so affected by Kryptonite.

“Maybe I can help with it?” Lena offers kindly.

Kara’s smile brightens up even more. “That would be swell!”

Lena gives Kara a small smile before turning back to the front. To be honest it still stings that Kara didn’t tell her Supergirl secret to the CEO. It had been two years after Emma had moved back to National City when Lena and Kara were having lunch but Kara was being called away. Again. Lena couldn’t stop herself and blurted out she knew Kara’s secret. She will never forget how Kara’s face fell and the promise of talking about it after she’s finished. Lena’s face grew cold as her walls shot up. She told Kara not to bother and stormed out of the restaurant to her penthouse apartment. She refused to see anyone or answer her phone. Allowing her past hurts and hatred to simmer and boil.

That was until a knock sounded on her door. She chose to ignore it but the knocking persisted.

“Come on Lena, please open the door. Let’s talk about this.” Emma’s muffled voice sounded through the door.

“Why should I?” Lena spits out as she draws closer, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

“Because you shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Lena scoffs. “And why not?”

“Because you’ll allow your demons to lie to you and it will eat you up.” Emma had experience with this herself.

Tears fill Lena’s eyes and against the screaming in her head she reaches out and opens the door.

“Hey you.” Emma gives Lena a small smile before stepping into the apartment. Placing the takeout bags on the floor and pulling Lena into a tight hug. Allowing Lena to break down as she sobs into Emma’s shoulder. All her past hurts rushing forward and spewing out.

After she was spent Emma gently led her to the sofa and reheated the food. Making sure Lena ate. They talked long into the night and when Lena started rubbing her eyes from exhaustion Emma helped her get ready for bed. As Lena slid between the sheets Emma leaned down to give her a goodnight hug. But stopped when Lena wouldn't let her go. “Stay.” Lena whispered. So Emma grabbed a pair of her spare clothes she left for times like this and got in next to her. Lena shifted over to her and rested her head on Emma’s shoulder. Emma wrapped her arms around Lena and held her close. They don’t say anything more but drift into a peaceful sleep.

“We’re here!” Emma sings out, causing Lena to jump slightly. They pull into a car park right next to the beach.

“Oh wow!! Look at the sea! It’s so beautiful!” Kara gasps as she presses herself against the window and like an excited child she unbuckles and races towards the beach. Having already spotted Alex, Kelly and Sam setting up.

Emma snorts at her sister’s behaviour while she unbuckles her seatbelt.

“Er… She will help us with the food? Right?” Lena looks back at the overflow of food bags in the back of the bug.

“Yea as soon as she realises she will shoot back up here.” Emma chuckles while getting out of the car. And Kara did just that as Emma went to pay for a parking ticket she watched Kara race back up to them, in human speed. “Glad to see you helping.” Emma raises an eyebrow at her sister as Kara reaches the bug.

“Sorry! I just got really excited! It’s so beautiful here!” Kara bounces like a puppy.

“Now you understand why I dragged you here instead of going to the beach at NC?” Emma says while carefully unstrapping her board before lowering it and leaning it up against the bug.

“Yes, yes.” Kara keeps her eyes on the beach.

“Hey.” Emma smirks at her distracted sister.

“Yea?” Kara tears her eyes away to look at Emma. Smiling when Emma opens are arms and they hug. “Haven’t been able to give you one yet.” Emma says in her ear. Kara buries her face into Emma’s neck, enjoying the warmth and feeling of home whenever she hugs her sisters.

The car door closing makes them break apart. “Okay I think that’s everything.” Lena says while looking at the small mountain of bags.

“Thanks Lena!” Kara sings as she grabs half of the bags before Emma can tell her to only take a few. Hopefully no one will question how a slim woman can carry that much weight. Lena catches Emma’s eye and they both roll their eyes at each other.

“Jink!” Emma yells causing Lena to do another eye roll. Before Emma can reach down for her stuff Lena steps forward.

“Can I have a hug too?”

“Sure you can Lee.” Emma opens her arms wide and Lena almost tackles her with her enthusiasm. They both sigh happily as they hold onto each other a bit longer than necessary. Emma breaks the hug and steps back, grabbing her backpack, placing a few food bags on her shoulders picking up her guitar, and securing her surfboard under her arm. “Oh Lee don’t take that many, Kara will come up and get the last few.”

“Okay.” Lena nods while swinging a food bag on each of her shoulders and they start walking towards the beach. “Kara is right though, it’s really beautiful here.”

Emma smiles at her, happy Lena approves. The sand was a beautiful white which made the sea clear and looked like a gorgeous turquoise and teal. The richness of the colours makes Emma want to weep with happiness. They could pretend like they were in the Caribbean or on the Hawaiian islands.

“Hey Peanut!” Alex yells as Emma approaches her.

Peanut has always been Alex’s nickname for Emma since their parents told three year old Alex she was going to be a big sister. Alex had been fascinated about it all and when her Mom had told her the baby was the size of a peanut the name stuck. Even when Emma grew and was the size of tennis ball Alex would still refer to the baby as Peanut.

“Hey sis!” Emma yells back, dumping her stuff on one of the picnic blankets. Alex comes over and pulls Emma into a tight hug, quickly followed by Kelly and Sam. “Been a long time Sam, how are you?”

“I know I’m sorry!” Sam says as she takes a step back. “Life’s been hectic!”

“Oh don’t I know it.” Emma laughs. “Maybe you can ask your boss to allow you to have a life?” Emma teases while giving Lena a pointed look.

“Not my problem she wants to work longer hours then she is contracted!” Lena places her hands on her hips.

“Maybe she’s following her boss's example? And maybe the boss needs to cut down too? Maybe relax a bit?” Emma stalks towards her crush.

“Maybe-” Lena stops what she was going to say and tilts her head as she watches Emma approach. A smirk on her face. “What are you doing?”

Suddenly Emma reaches out and starts tickling Lena who laughs loudly and tries to swat the blonde away.

“Lena! She’s ticklish too!” Alex snickers as she goes through the food bags.

“Traitor!” Emma yells as Lena starts her own assault. The two women fall to the sand in fits of giggles as they wrestle. Before Emma can gain the upper hand Lena straddles her and continues tickling her. “No! Lena!” Emma kicks out trying to shift the woman on top of her. But Lena was not budging. “Argh! I surrender! Please!” Emma wheezes.

“I win?" Lena stops and gazes down at Emma triumphantly.

“You win.” Emma coughs and when Lena moves off her she instantly misses the feeling of Lena’s weight on top of her.

“Are you ladies done or are you going to help?” Alex raises her eyebrow at them as they catch their breath.

“Yes ma'am.” Emma salutes before getting up, rubbing the sand off herself and reaching out to help Lena up. They smirk at each other and set to work getting the rest of the blankets and chairs out for the Superfriends.

Soon the other group arrives and they all sit chatting and relaxing. The men start setting the BBQ up, insisting they can do it, much to the amusement of the women as they try to do it without looking at the instructions.

Alex, Kara and Emma smile at each other as they share a look before giggling. The Danvers sisters have barbecuing in the great outdoors down to an art. But if it keeps the men happy they stay quiet. Sighing Emma turns away from the entertainment and looks out to sea, watching the waves and the surfers riding them.

Alex shuffles up to her, resting her head on Emma’s shoulder. “You can go if you want.”

Emma rests the side of her head on her sister’s. “I know, but the waves aren’t quite right yet.”

“Okay.” Alex wraps her arms around Emma, who returns the gesture and holds onto Alex. Emma moves her head and kisses Alex’s head before resting her own on Alex’s again.

Alex smiles and kisses Emma’s hand that's holding her close. At first Alex wasn’t too keen on the idea of coming to the beach, too much work to do at the DEO and an hour travelling seems like an eternity. But Alex is glad she came. They sit content.

“How can you tell if the waves are not right?” Brainy asks, having left J'onn and James to sort out the BBQ.

Emma looks up at him. “I don’t know, you just can. It’s a feeling.” Emma runs a hand through her hair trying to think of a better way to explain it. “Like when you are out there you know a big wave is coming, the wave. You just got to be patient and take the moment when it comes.”

Brainy tilts his head at her. “I think I understand.”

“Well I’m glad you did.” Alex snorts and yelps when Emma playfully slaps her bare arm.

“Oh come on I didn’t slap you that hard!” Emma laughs but rubs her sister’s arm.

“Anyone wanna play rounders?” Lena asks the group as she picks up one of her bags. She pulls out a rounders bat, which is shorter than a baseball bat, and ball.

“Rounders?” Kara asks, confused. “Don’t you mean baseball?”

“No, I mean rounders, it’s what we played at my boarding school. It’s the game that baseball came from. The first known account of it was in 1744 with the Tudors.” Half of the group look at Lena blankly, while the other half look interested and know who the Tudors are. “Basically you still have four bases, home runs etc. The bowler must do underarm, though we can do overarm…” Lena pauses. “It’s just different okay?”

“Sounds good to me!” Sam leaps to her feet and starts setting the four bases up. Everyone else follows suit and splits into teams, Lena and Sam being the captains of each team. On Lena’s team is Kara, James, Alex and Emma versus Sam’s team which has Kelly, J'onn, Brainy and Nia.

After a coin toss Lena’s team bats first with Sam being the bowler, or pitcher, as Alex yells out.

“And can we make a rule of no powers? We don’t want the ball getting batted into space!” Sam jokes as she jogs to bowler base.

“Sounds fair.” Kara says looking at J'onn who nods in agreement. She gets into position to bat. She hits the ball no problem and starts to run, but she hits the ball too high and Brainy is already waiting to catch it.

“Out!” Sam yells as Brainy holds the ball in his hand, causing Kara to skid to a halt. She turns and walks back to the team, kicking the sand as she goes.

“Hard luck sis.” Alex rubs Kara’s back when she comes back to the line up. Pouting all the way. Emma gives her a hug and kisses her cheek.

“You’ll do it next time.” Emma reassures her.

They watch James get into position and hit quite a good ball. He manages to get to third base before having to stop when Nia catches the ball while on 4th base.

Lena is the next to go and Emma can’t help but watch as she sways her hips getting ready to strike. Her ball goes low and far. She sprints off and her team screams and cheers when she manages to do a home run.

“Nicely done Lee!” Emma holds her hand out to high five the out of breath CEO.

“Thanks.” Lena smiles brightly at the blonde while holding onto her hand longer than necessary.

Alex is up next, feeling the pressure of going after Lena’s home run.

“You got this babe!” Kelly smiles from the 2nd base. Alex smiles back at her before readying herself. She misses the first ball.

“Strike 1!”

Huffing Alex gets back into position again. And misses.

“Strike two!”

“You got this Al!” Emma claps and encourages her sister.

Taking a deep breath Alex readies herself and watches the ball. She manages to hit it and sprints to 2nd base.

“Nice to see you Alex!” Kelly teases the red head causing Alex to gently shove her girlfriend.

“Right you’re up Emma!” Sam calls as she catches the ball.

Emma picks the bat up, wiping the sand off it and stands in position. Noticing the opponents are standing mainly to the left, Emma decides to trick them. When Sam throws the ball she quickly turns her body and whacks the ball to the right side of the field far away from the group. She runs half the way and seeing Brainy is still running to the ball she walks the rest of the way, dancing and blowing kisses. She starts sprinting the last few feet as the ball is being thrown towards Nia. The team celebrates her home run and they play a few more rounds, having a few collisions and lots of laughter. They have two more goes each and swap over. Lena takes over as the bowler. “Pitcher!” Alex yells as she runs to man 2nd base.

The new batting team does just as well and Sam’s team are one point behind. J’onn is up as the last batter, it’s all on him. If he gets a home run Sam’s team has won the game. Emma watches the ball carefully as Lena throws it and in a split second it's coming right at her. She reaches out her hand and catches it. Everyone stares dumbfoundead before yelling in surprise and either excitement from winning or groans for losing.

Emma’s team crowd her and she laughs at the attention.

“Emma?” A voice says behind her.

Emma’s head shoots round and she smiles when she sees her bandmates standing there.

“Guys?” She rushes towards them. Emma had told them of her plans and had invited them to join. They had said they were busy so it's a huge surprise to Emma that they stood in front of her. “What are you doing here?”

“We are… Wanted to talk to you.” Jack, the guitarist and other singer, says before he looks at the Superfriends behind Emma, watching them intently. “Alone.”

“Sure.” Emma shrugs, she turns back to Lena and throws her the ball. Emma walks with her bandmates along the beach until they are far enough away. Though Emma is sure Kara can still hear them. “So, whats up? Everything okay?”

“Er… So about that-” Danny, the drummer, starts but rubs his neck. Feeling very awkward. Frankie, the keyboardist, doesn’t make eye contact with Emma and shuffles his feet in the sand.

Mick interrupts. “We want to leave the band.”

Emma’s mind screeches to a halt. “Leave? All of you?”

“Yea Em. Just with Jack getting engaged, Frankie’s Dad being ill and Danny’s baby is due. We just don’t have the same drive like you do.” Mick looks sadly at her. “We are a great team, but it’s just not the same. After moving to National City we realised we want to settle, have families, the whole white picket fence thing.”

Emma places her hands on her hips, biting her lips to stop the tears threatening to fall. “What about the new album? We’ve already written most of the songs.”

“You don’t need us Em. You are the front runner and can do this with anyone.” Jack tries to reassure her.

“But they won’t be you.” Emma’s heart starts to break when she looks at the finality in each of their eyes. “And… And nothing I can say will change your minds?”

Her four bandmates shake their heads.

“Okay.” Emma looks up at the sky, taking a deep breath before looking back at the men in front of her. “Well, can we do a farewell tour?”

“Sounds like a good plan.” Danny smiles sadly at her and the other three nod.

“Can we give you a hug?” Jack asks quietly, hating seeing Emma so defeated.

Emma nods and they go in for a long group hug. But as the tears start to spill Emma breaks the hug and rushes back to the Superfriends. Ignoring any questions, she throws off her clothes and jewellery and grabs her board. Sprinting to the surf and diving into the sea.

She paddles quickly, still hearing voices, most likely Kara and Alex, calling after her. But she drowns it out by duck diving under a wave as it rolls over her and she resurfaces. Emma continues further out past the swell where she can stop and just lie there. Letting the board bob as she gazes at the horizon. Emma allows her tears to fall. Her face distorts with her disappointment and hurt.

‘What am I going to do?’ Emma thinks. She gets why the guys want to leave. Knowing this would happen one day. Or at least a break, but it still hurts. ‘Since when did it change for them?’ Emma stays like this for a while, lost in her own thoughts.

Some time later splashing behind her makes her turn her head and she sits up. A wet laugh breaks through her lips when she sees Kara and Alex balancing on a paddle board trying to reach her. Alex particularly looks like how a cat would look in this situation. On her knees and very tense having come to a very deep part of the beach. Alex doesn’t like not being able to touch the bottom, or see it. Kara is using the paddle, obviously using a bit of her super strength with how quickly they are going.

“What you laughing at?” Alex snaps.

“Nothing.” Emma smiles sadly at her while wiping the tears from her face. She swings her legs around and places them either side of the board. When the paddle board comes alongside Emma’s, Kara moves to sit down. Causing Alex to shriek as the board rocks dangerously. Emma reaches out and steadies it while trying not to laugh.

“Sorry Alex!” Kara apologises before turning her attention to Emma. “You okay?”

Immediately Emma’s smile drops and her eyes fill with tears again. She furiously rubs her eyes to stop them. “Yea fine.”

“No you’re not.” Alex sighs, hating seeing her sister look so unhappy.

“Guessing you heard?” Emma looks at Kara who nods sadly. Crinkle on her forehead evident of her concern. Emma looks down at her hands, not able to look at her sisters anymore. “I just… I get why…” Emma exhales deeply. “It just hurts you know. We are so in sync with each other and I honestly can’t imagine having to restart all that again.”

“But you will.” Alex reaches out and touches Emma’s linked hands. “Because your voice, your music needs to be heard Em.”

“Yea it's one of my favourite sounds, like ever.” Kara agrees. “But you know you will always have us, right?”

Emma nods, allowing a few more tears to fall.

Alex reaches out and wipes the tears from Emma’s cheeks. “And yes it sucks right in this moment but you will get through this. We will both help you through this.”

“Totally.” Kara agrees.

“Thanks.” Somehow Alex manages to hug Emma without falling in and Kara joins them.

Right on queue Kara’s stomach rumbles. “Oh and lunch is ready.”

“Uh oh the monsters coming.” Emma smirks as she looks at her alien sister.

“Race ya?!” Kara jumps to her feet making the board rock dangerously and had Emma not been holding Alex the red head would have fallen in. After making sure her sisters were okay Emma waves them off.

“Nah, you go on ahead, I’ll be right behind you.”

Emma watches her sisters go, hoping Kara has enough control not to cause Alex to fall in too far from the beach. She keeps her eyes fixed on them, slowly following in case Alex needed her. But when they reach the shore Emma lets out the breath she didn’t realise she was holding. Emma chuckles when Kara returns the paddle board they borrowed to get to her.

Shaking her head Emma starts slowly paddling into the swell and waits, her board moving with the ocean. Suddenly she feels a shift. Emma lies on her stomach and starts paddling hard. She smiles as her board gets picked up by the huge wave. Whooping as her board flies through the tube, she reaches out and skims her hand along the break. She comes out the other end and using the momentum turns her board, shooting her closer to the beach. Until finally her board slows down and she jumps off, wading the short distance to the shore.

“Hey!” A surfer approaches her, smiling flirtatiously. His brunette hair slicked back from the sea.

“Hi.” Emma responds while picking up her board.

“That was a sweet wave you just did!” His enthusiasm makes Emma smile.

“Thanks, kind of wish it went on forever.” She admits, cause really there was nothing like going through the tube of a wave. The colours and sounds were breathtaking.

“Ah man I know right?!” He laughs. “So, I was wondering if I could have your number?”

“EMMA!” She turns to look at Kara who is waving her arms about wildly. Most likely due to Alex saying she can’t eat until Emma joins them.

“Thank you but I’m kind of not available. Sorry.”

“No worries at all.” He looks slightly disappointed but still smiles.

“EMMAAAAAA!!!”

Emma laughs at how Kara’s yells got even louder. “Well I better go, don’t want my sister getting any more hangry.” Emma starts to walk back to the group.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Emma.” He calls after her.

Emma swings round but continues walking backwards. “You too.” She turns back around, smiling and shaking her head.

As soon as Emma gets near, Kara is loading her plate up at top, human, speed. Emma chuckles at the sight and digs the end of her board into the sand before taking the leash off and flopping onto the picnic blanket.

“Who was that?” Kelly asked across from her. Lena pretends she isn’t listening in as she gets some food.

“Oh just some guy congratulating me on my sweet wave.” Emma imitates the guy's accent which makes them laugh.

“And he wanted her number!” Kara teases while she sits next to Emma.

Whistles and ooo’s sound around the group. Alex watches bemused as Lena purses her lips before going back to a neutral expression.

“So where’s the number?” Sam asks excitedly, not missing Lena’s rigid posture.

“Meh, not my type.” Emma tries to play it off cooly while she grabs her top and shorts to change into again. Not minding that they will get a bit damp as the sun is out in full blaze. She also applies her suncream handing it around and reminding everyone to keep it topped up.

“Since when has hunky surfer boy not been your type?” Kara asks confused as she focuses on the surfer. “Honestly I could grate cheese on his abs!”

“Kara!” Emma laughs loudly while she dishes up a plate of food.

“You also said you weren’t available,” Kara presses on, missing the looks Alex was giving her. “Who's the lucky guy or gal?” Emma had come out as bisexual when she was a young teenager. Her Mom and sister’s supported her and Emma was glad she could do the same for Alex when she came out to her. Alex had even flown out specially to where Emma was gigging to tell her. At first Emma was really worried when Alex avoided eye contact and was nervously fidgeting in her seat. When Alex finally blurted it out Emma held her sister close. Saying how proud she was of her and her love for her sister hadn’t changed.

“No one, I just wanted to get him off my back.” Emma says nonchalantly but inside she was freaking out. She’d said it because yes she wasn’t available because her heart belonged to Lena.

Kelly gives Alex a look and watches as Emma settles in-between Lena and Kara under the umbrella they were sitting under. Alex doesn’t miss how much closer Emma sits to Lena than her sister.

The Superfriends continue talking and when everyone has finished eating they split off to do their own thing. Alex and Kelly go for a walk, mainly to come up with a plan to get Emma and Lena together. While Kara, J'onn, Sam, Nia, Brainy and James play volleyball. Girls and against boys. “Original.” Emma mutters causing Lena to snort.

Lena and Emma opt to stay with everyones stuff. Lena is happy to sit back against the pile and read a book she’s been wanting to read for months but never had the chance.

Emma sighs as she looks at her guitar case. Twiddling her thumbs for a moment she draws her knees to her chest and watches the waves. But not feeling quite ready to get back in.

After half an hour Lena puts her book down and focuses on Emma. “Something on your mind?” Lena asks, nudging her shoulder into Emma, causing the blonde to sway.

“Guessing Kara told you?” Emma keeps her eyes fixed in front of her.

“Yes, she was relaying what was being said.” Lena says apologetically.

“It’s okay. Makes it easier in a way.” Sighing heavily Emma turns to look at Lena. Who is watching her with concern. “I just don’t know what to do. I need to look for new bandmates, but that just seems so daunting. Can I really go through that all again?” Emma runs her hands through her hair. Huffing she looks back into emerald eyes. “Okay if we don’t talk about it? Just enjoy what we have right now?”

“And what do we have?”

“Great company, good food and a wonderful view.” Emma motions to the beach around them.

“Yea, I can do that.” Lena keeps her eyes on Emma.

“Go back to your book Lee. I’ll be fine.” Emma tries to smile reassuringly.

Lena doesn’t buy it but starts reading again. She watches Emma from the corner of her eye as she shuffles over to her guitar case, opening it and pulling the guitar out, making sure it is in tune.

Emma gets her songbook out of her case, opening the page to a song she had started writing. Making sure she doesn’t hit Lena with her guitar Emma settles back down. Grabbing her phone she hits record and starts plucking. Softly singing to herself.

Tell me somethin', girl Are you happy in this modern world? Or do you need more? Is there somethin' else you're searchin' for?

Emma pauses as she remembers a chorus of a song she’s been working on. She quickly flips to that page and moves her fingers to find the chords. She continues to play. Not realising her soft singing has steadily got louder.

I'm falling

Emma sees Lena in her mind as she sings. Her pain at falling for her friend and not having the courage to take it deeper.

In all the good times I find myself Longin' for change And in the bad times I fear myself

Sighing Emma looks at the sea before turning her head slightly to look at the raven haired beauty. Whose focus is on the book in front of her. Returning her attention to her notebook Emma keeps playing and singing.

I'm off the deep end, watch as I dive in I'll never meet the ground Crash through the surface, where they can't hurt us We're far from the shallow now

Lifting her head she focuses on the sea again.

In the shallow, shallow

In the shallow, shallow In the shallow, shallow We're far from the shallow now.

Emma pauses and stops the recording. Running a hand through her hair which starts getting more wavy from getting wet.

“Wow Em.” Lena breathes out.

Emma turns to Lena who put the book next to her. “You like that?”

“Yes, seriously… I don’t have the words.”

“Thanks, it’s not really finished. It needs another verse…” Emma goes through her notebook but comes up empty. Replaying the first verse Emma closes her eyes to figure out the words for the second verse.

Tell me something, boy

“What rhymes with boy?” Emma mutters to herself. “Toy? No… Void?”

Aren't you tired tryin' to fill that void?

Emma sighs as she remembers friends she has lost due to depression and addiction. Knowing how hard it is to feel whole and get out of the pit.

Or do you need more? Ain't it hard keeping it so hardcore?

She sings through the bridge and the chorus again, making sure it all fits. But to her horror she realises she stopped the recording.

“Crap!” Looking down her phone wasn’t where she left it. Instead it's in Lena’s hand.

“I could see you didn’t press record so I did it for you.” Lena answers Emma’s questioning gaze as she presses the button to stop the recording.

“Thanks Lee.” Emma takes her phone and grabs her pen, listening to the recording and writing the song out in full with the chords.

Lena watches Emma. “Do you usually write songs that quickly?” Lena asks, fascinated.

Emma laughs in response. “No, not usually. I guess I was more inspired.” She shrugs, placing her guitar back in the case with her notebook. She shuffles back over to Lena. “Can I?”

Lena looks up and nods, letting Emma lean down, resting her head in Lena’s lap. They do this quite often and it always makes Lena’s heart skip a beat. Slowly she puts her book down beside her and runs a hand through Emma’s hair. Looking at the view and doing what Emma said, enjoying the moment.

Time passes on and Emma watches the group playing volleyball. Kelly and Alex have joined them, Kelly staying with the girls while Alex went over to the boys side. Emma smirks when Kara would not so sneakily use her powers to gain an advantage.

But Emma’s attention diverted back to the sea, the tide was coming in and the swell had gotten bigger. Turning her head to look up at Lena Emma pauses. Her eyes linger on Lena’s chest before taking in her profile. ‘Rao she’s so beautiful.’

“Okay if I catch a few more waves?” Emma asks, finding her voice.

Looking down Lena smiles. “Sure.”

“Thanks Lee.” Emma sits up and presses a kiss to Lena’s cheek. As Emma takes her clothes off she grabs her board and runs to the surf. Lena touches her flushed cheek and smiles softly.

Soon the volleyball group end their game, the boys team winning by a few points. They head back to their set up, laughing at how both J'onn and Kara leapt for the ball, only to miss it completely.

“Hi Lena!” Kara says while sitting next to her best friend. “How's the book?”

“It’s…” Lena looks down at the book and realises she’s only got through part of the first chapter. Her attention had mainly been watching Emma surf. “Slow.”

“Ah I hate it when that happens!” Kara hands Lena a drink while they sit and watch Emma. Who had just gone through another tube, much to the excitement of the surfers watching in the shallows. “I don’t know how she makes it look so easy!”

“It’s one of her many talents.” Lena agrees, though there is always a feeling of anxiety whenever anyone she cares for is in any body of water.

“Totally.” Kara says before sighing sadly.

“Kara?” Lena asks concerned for the Super.

“I just… She’s worked so hard. I know she will come back from this, but when Alex and I got to her she… She just looked so broken.” Kara sighs again. Worry filling her eyes as she watches her sister.

“She didn’t want to talk about it. But said how daunting it is to find new bandmates. Which I can understand.” Lena knows how hard it is to make friends in general.

“Yea it’s not the easiest of processes. She needs to click with them, for them to become in sync with each other and then get on with them. How they managed to drive around in that tour bus all over America and later the world is beyond me!” Kara says with wide eyes, she had joined Emma for a few gigs and thankfully the venues weren’t too far from each other. But Kara found the journey long and boring.

“Kara, anything slower then you flying is beyond you!” Lena's teasing causes Kara to laugh loudly.

“True!”

They continue watching Emma who attempts a few aerial tricks. The spray of the sea flying high above her. “She wrote a really beautiful song just now.”

“Really?” Kara perks up and Lena nods. “Think she’ll play it for us?”

“Maybe.” Lena hopes Emma does. She really wants to hear it again.

While Emma still surfs the Superfriends play UNO. Laughing at how competitive Alex is getting and only getting calmed down when Kelly gives her a gentle kiss.

As the sun starts to slowly descend Emma finally gets out of the sea. Waving goodbye to a group of surfers she had been talking to.

She notices a fire has been built in the centre of the Superfriends circle and a few of them are roasting marshmallows.

Emma’s body is completely shattered but she smiles at the feeling. Making a note to come back here as much as she can. Even if the weather isn’t perfect like today.

The Superfriends greet her while she grabs her stuff to change. Alex stands and uses one of the blankets to block anyone’s view of Emma. Kara joins in and goes to the other side. Emma scoffs knowing full well she can change without showing anything and there has been no paparazzi bothering her.

Finally dry and feeling much warmer Emma sits next to Lena and places her head on her shoulder. She can’t help but yawn and let her eyes drift.

“Tired Em?” Alex teases from across the circle and smiles at Lena whose cheeks are tinged with red.

“Uhmm.” Emma confirms. “Do we have any more food?” She asks, keeping her eyes closed. “Or has Kara eaten it all?”

“Hey!” Kara swats Emma playfully but causes Emma to jump and glare at her. “Sorry! Did I hurt you?” Kara asks, panicked.

“No, I was just surprised.” Emma sighs before resting her head back on Lena’s shoulder.

“Well I did see a pizza place as we drove in. Maybe we can order?” Nia asks.

“Sounds like a good plan to me!” Emma gives a thumbs up. Pizza is one of her favourite foods.

With the joys of technology the friends order and half an hour later a pizza boy with a mountainful of pizza boxes comes towards them. They thank him and dig in. Emma grabs Lena and her pizza, two cans of soda and some salad left over from lunch.

“M’lady.” Emma holds out the cans which Lena takes. “I got some salad too.” Emma places the container in front of Lena.

“Thank you Em.” Lena says touched that Emma thought about her. She opens the lid and wonders how she can eat it. Looking up she sees Emma holding out a knife and fork for her and she smiles.

“You may need this.”

Lena grins back thanking her and takes the cutlery from the blonde.

Emma happily munches away at the pizza, rolling her eyes when the debate about Hawaiian pizza is brought up.

“Personally I don’t see anything wrong with it.” Sam defends laughing at Brainy’s stunned face.

“But to have a fruit on a savoury dish… it just does not compute.”

“Brainy.” Emma gets the alien’s attention. “Have you actually tried it?”

“No I have not.” He looks appalled that Emma would ask that.

“Then how’d you know if it doesn’t work?” Emma tilts her head.

After a moment of thinking Brainy nods. “Fair point.”

“Next game night I will order one and you can try it!” Sam says happily while winking at Emma, who smiles back.

“Just keep it away from me.” Alex says, shivering at the thought.

“Sorry to change the subject, buuutttt, Emma.” Kara says making Emma freeze while her last pizza slice was near her lips. She lowers it slightly while looking at her sister, who is beaming from ear to ear.

“Yea?”

“I saw you working on a song, wanna share it?”

All the Superfriends turn to look at Emma expectantly. Always appreciative of hearing anything Emma is working on. Taking a deep breath she lowers the slice back to the box and wipes her hands on a napkin.

“Peanut, you don’t have too.” Alex says glaring at Kara. Emma would do anything to make her sisters happy, Alex knew this. So did Kara. And yes, they would both exploit it sometimes.

“No, it’s okay. Would be great to get everyone's opinion.” Emma grabs her guitar and notebook. Reminding herself of the chords. “So… This… Well…” Sighing heavily, Emma closes her eyes to control her nerves. “I kind of imagine this as a duet, but with, well, the band breaking up. I may have to rethink it a bit.” Emma focuses on the fire in front of her, feeling too embarrassed to look at anyone.

She starts playing the chords and sings. Allowing the music to wash over and for her voice to carry with the wind. Emma adds the new verse but as she nears the end she feels her emotions take over, her frustration at her situation and the need to release it. She improvises. Closing her eyes and allowing herself to go with it.

Whoa-oh-ah-oh-ahh

Emma belts out, slamming her fingers into the guitar strings as she increases in passion and volume.

I'm off the deep end, watch as I dive in I'll never meet the ground Crash through the surface, where they can't hurt us We're far from the shallow now

A smile graces Emma’s face as she lifts her head.

In the shallow, shallow In the shallow, shallow

Emma softens her voice, allowing the natural end of the song to take place.

In the shallow, shallow We're far from the shallow now.

Emma allows the last chord to hold longer than necessary. She keeps her eyes closed and waits.

A huge roar around her causes her to jump and open her eyes. A crowd has gathered round the group and are applauding her. The Superfriends all clap wildly too, Alex wipes tears from her face and Kara beams as brightly as the sun. Emma turns to look at Lena and her smile is as bright, if not brighter then Kara’s. Her green eyes simmering with tears. Emma watches as one falls and she gently reaches out and wipes it away with her thumb.

She then acknowledges the crowd with a small wave and thanks them with a bow of her head. They soon disperse, returning to their own groups and Emma sighs in relief.

“So, was the song okay?” Emma asks while picking at a chipped bit of wood on the base of her guitar.

“Okay?” Alex's voice booms causing Emma to quickly look at her sister. Alex’s eyes are wide. “Okay? Em that song… Wow I don’t have the words!”

“That’s what Lena said.” Emma smiles at the two women.

“Well it’s true.” Lena grins back, nudging her shoulder into the blonde’s.

The other Superfriends nod and agree.

“It really moved me.” Sam says smiling at Emma who blushes in response.

“Yes.” Brainy adds. “Very- touching.” Nia smiles at him. Emma grins too, happy Brainy was able to express himself.

Emma plays a few more well known songs and the Superfriends join in. But as the sun dips slowly into the horizon Emma stops and hands the guitar to James who continues playing. Not as well as Emma but enough.

Emma heads back towards the surf, wading in up to below her knees. Taking deep breaths she watches the colours change, memorising the rich reds, oranges and yellows. Lena comes and stands next to her. They watch in comfortable silence and Lena links her fingers with Emma’s. They smile softly to each other before watching the sun dip under the horizon.

(Part Two)

#supergirl #supergirl imagine #supergirl tv #supergirl fanfic #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl baby danvers #lena luthor x baby danvers #alex danvers x baby danvers #kara danvers x baby danvers #lena luthor imagine #alex danvers imagine #kara danvers imagine #b!d #baby danvers

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causticsunshine · 3 years

Text

i was tagged by both the lovely @dyingstars-x and @harrymegirlfriend to answer twenty questions about myself! this was a lot more candid than i anticipated but here we go~

💗what do you prefer to be called name-wise?

alex!

💗when is your birthday?

july 21st! cancer season baybee

💗where do you live?

in the US! i've been in the pacific northwest for about eight years but i'm definitely still a californian at heart

💗three things you’re doing right now?

1. jobhunting 2. trying to open my online shop 3. attempting™️ to finish deadline stuff and this HSLOT drawing i've been working on since saturday 🤞🤞

💗four fandoms that have piqued your interest right now?

i go through little phases where i have my one big primary interest—one dee since returning to it last summer—that sticks around for awhile and then some smaller, less involved ones that tend to come and go, so i'd say right now the only other 'fandom' i'm kinda in is for MDZ/the untamed/cql, even though i'm a very late member to the party!

💗how is the pandemic treating you?

okay i guess? i'd really like to be moved out already as being in therapy and gaining confidence since my big mental breakdown last fall—accompanied with quitting my job of nearly four years that didn't get me anywhere in life—i've realized how many unhealthy behaviors and mindsets are perpetuated in my household and how they're....really not good for me at all. but i also know i can't get to the place i'd like to be mentally and emotionally without moving out, i also can't move out until i find a 9-5 with bennies with all my health problems + me losing my insurance in the new year so it's been....a time.

buuuut besides the soul crushing terror of being an adult living at home with people who don't understand you, i'm confident now and a lot of my mindsets have changed to healthier ones and i've regained my love of art and being creative?

💗song you can’t stop listening to right now?

it's a combination of 'i wish i never met you' by loote, 'crowd' by sophie cates, and...... 'stay' by the kid laroi + justin bieber (although i think that one's just an earworm i need to work out lmao)

💗recommend a movie

i just got to rewatch 'cowboy bebop: the movie' and it's sooo fun....(spoilers) i know the ending of the anime is supposed to be purposefully open as it just covers a section of time in the characters' lives where they're all together but i kinda wish i'd watched the movie after as opposed to when it takes place because it's a little bit...of a nicer (and much clearer) wrap up!

💗how old are you?

twenty five 🧓

💗school, university, occupation, other?

currently jobhunting for a Boring grown up job just for some regularity and insurance (and $$ to get my ass OUT) but i want to take on freelance commission work again too! i dropped out of uni in like 2018 because the school i was going to kept fucking me over with credits just to get my associate's but maybe i'll go back one day.....maybe.....

💗do you prefer hot or cold?

HOT only because it's so gd cold and wet where i live now and even when the summers are warm they're super short and don't compensate for the months i spend not moving out of arthritis pain and freezing my ass off

💗name one fact others may not know about you.

i always come up with fun ones when i don't have any reason to share them lmao but i guess.....staying on-brand with 1d stuff, and i might've said this before, but louis gave me my first bout of gender envy that i recognized as actual gender envy when i was like, fifteen? and as i was coming out of my obvious emo phase into one more subdued, i totally dressed like twink louis for almost a year....haircut and everything....

if i can find the one photo i'm thinking of i'll post it but until then use your imagination sjkgdf

💗are you shy?

i can be? i think once i vibe with someone enough it becomes easy to talk to and open up to them but before that i can be pretty closed off and a bit impersonal.

💗do you have any preferred pronouns?

they/them!

💗any pet peeves?

i'm one of those 'people talking or random noise being made near me while i'm trying to concentrate on something fuels my murder response out of nowhere' people but otherwise...outside of common courtesy/manners stuff being ignore, i don't think so? although i genuinely hate when people walk right behind me or right in front of me...shit makes me anxious and ticks me off dfjkngdf i got shit to do!!

💗what’s your favourite “dere” type?

am i boring if i say tsundere just because it's relatable? although dorodere is kinda fun in the right setting....i love a good character twist!

💗rate your life 1-10. 1 being really crappy and 10 being the best you could ever be.

i'd say a 5? there's a lot more i want to do and achieve and things i know i could have right now if my ADHD and anxiety didn't still have such a death grip on me but i'm also in the best headspace i've been in in years so i'll take that as a win!

💗what’s your main blog?

this one!

💗list your side blogs and what they’re used for.

swmpwxtch is my art-only blog because i'm slow at finishing things and know there's no point trying to make this an 'art blog' when i reblog so much, and then prickelndauge is my insp blog (so if you're wondering why there's a startling lack of fashion and art on this blog, it's mostly over there!), then i have one for creepy/spooky stuff (bonepickng) because i know not a lot of people want to see that on main, aaaaand am-ref a ref blog for art tips, life things, donation pools, etc.! (and some old urls i have saved)

💗is there anything you think people need to know about you before becoming friends with you?

at the risk of sounding like a YA protagonist: my heart is full of love and i try to be as understanding and open as i can be but i also have a very short bullshit fuse, so while i'm still happily understanding of certain behaviors and mindsets, if you cross the line that i put very bluntly in the sand, you're not crossing back over.

(ie i love my friends but don't be a dick and if you are you get one warning and that's all <3)

uhhh i know a lot of people got tagged already and have done this so! i'll be tagging @grimmpitch @hershelsue @niallnailme @dragmedown @ialwaysknewyouwerepunk @justmehernthemoon @non-binharry @genius0flove @mamaharry @theymetinthetoihlet @saintqueer and uhhh anyone else that would like to!! and if you've done this already please ignore me~

#tagged #twenty questions #oh geez that's me

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zmediaoutlet · 4 years

Text

in support of wildfire relief, @jesusonthetortillas donated $10, and requested pre-series pining!Sam, with diary discovery. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

After his little lesson from Sabrina, the hot librarian's assistant, it's not hard at all for Dean to find what he's looking for. He drops Sam off at the library the way he usually does, and flirts with Sabrina on his way out like he usually does, but instead of going to his shift at the construction site like Sam thinks he's going to, he circles back around, through the library stacks on the main floor, and waits like a dingus by YOUNG ADULT – ADVENTURE, watching the back of Sam's nerdy, nerdy head where he's hunched at the computer banks, getting up to no kind of good.

It wouldn't have come to this, Dean thinks, if Sam weren't so—he doesn't even know how to think about it. He doesn't know when to pin it down. They were doing okay. Sam ran away, a few years back, but since then he's—well, he's always bitching at Dad and bitching at Dean half the time too, but he's done good in school, he's done his part with the hunting. It was sometime at that last school. September in Maryland. Dad was gone a lot of the time, because Dad always was, and Dean went with him on about half the hunts but Sam got to stay behind, got to just call in research tips and last-minute lore checks, and Dean thought he was pretty happy, as much as Sam ever seemed happy. Chill, just doing his homework at the rickety desk, not complaining any more than usual about Dean's usual dinners of fast food or Kraft or Top Ramen. Seventeen and getting tall and mellowing out, and finally hanging out with his little brother was just fine. Dean thought.

That was two towns ago, three months ago. Dean picks his nails with his pocket knife, leaning on one elbow by the Hardy Boys. Sam's still working away on the computer. Anymore he always is. After school he's always angling for Dean to bring him to the library and if Dean won't drive him then Sam walks, even when it's raining, like it is half the time in frickin Washington, anyway. Always finding a free computer and settling in and disappearing onto the internet. Not coming home until the library closes, and moody if Dean's there when he walks in, and Dean just—he thought they were past all this crap. He thought that maybe Sam had—settled. Figured out how things were, how things had to be.

Well. Either way. Sabrina, with the glasses and the sexy dreads and the legs that very much went all the way to the floor under those wide-legged pants she was always wearing—she gave Dean a computer lesson, free of charge, and he's got a way in, now. Sam won't talk to him, won't hardly look at him. Dean chews the inside of his cheek, watching Sam type on the battered public machine. Sam's not the only one who knows how to research a case, in this family. Dean's going to figure this out. He's gonna fix it.

A bell rings, at five o'clock, like the end of a school day. Sam jerks like he's been shocked and looks up at the ceiling, clearly annoyed. He's been engrossed for two hours, typing away, reading. Real frickin' boring, on Dean's end, but he stayed put. Like staking out a house for a job—nothing to do but wait. He takes a few steps backwards, makes sure the shelves hide his face, and there's a general rustling as people leave—a mom and her kid, and tears because the kid's favorite book wasn't here—and when Dean looks again the computer banks are empty, and Sabrina's checking out the last few patrons, and Sam's—gone. Walking home in the rain, little goth that he is. Fine with Dean, if it gives him a few minutes.

When he settles into the chair Sam was in it's still warm. He opens up Netscape Navigator, the library's homepage welcoming him in a friendly kinda way—big yellow smiley face, that's fun. He goes to where Sabrina taught him, in the menu at the top: view, and then History, where it turns out the computer saves all the webpages you went to just in case you need to find them again, and there—oh, jackpot. Gotcha, Sam.

All kinds of crap. A weather website, a bunch of Ask Jeeves searches, something called DiffEQandU. Some mythology stuff, too, and Dean goes to one that turns out to be a history of kitsune. That's something, at least—Sam doing his important homework, in there with whatever other crap he's been working on.

The last bunch of results are all pages from some website called Livejournal, which Dean's never heard of. He clicks one at random and is brought to—huh. A splashy red page, with a big picture on top of kids graduating from high school in those dorky blue robes. He scrolls down, skimming, looking for the important details among the mess, but it's hard to tell what it is. A forum, it looks like. Kind of like the ones Dean's been on where people trade car parts, or swap ghost stories. A square box, dated yesterday, that says WHEN IS HARVARD'S APP REVIEW???, and a panicky paragraph where some chick might die if she doesn't get in. Another, the day before, with questions about the SAT, and a link that says 43 comments that, when Dean clicks it, brings him to a bunch of apparently teenagers all giving each other tips from some test they're worried about taking.

College. Dean's stomach curls into a knot. It's all—college stuff, applications and tests and deadlines. The usernames are all weird shit: tmntpizzadelivery, quistis4ever, willyshakes. Dean can't tell—is one of these kids Sam?

Sabrina's nearly done with her line of book nerds. Dean rubs a hand over his mouth and clicks away, tries another of the Livejournal results in the history. Another forum, this one apparently about—soccer? Jesus, Sam. Another forum, this one about Conan the Barbarian, and that one's at least easy to snort at, with people's shitty drawings of Red Sonja and excitement about a possible remake. There are personal pages, though, too—one titled Delaware Sucks, in which some girl complains about her life—one titled trent reznor rules my soul, featuring a goth kid who won't shut up about Nine Inch Nails and his bitch of a mother. Another, with a plain blue-and-grey color scheme, with the title on the road, and a new post from today—from an hour ago—with the text just reading, I don't know what to do anymore, and six comments underneath, waiting.

"Hey—ready to go?" Sabrina says.

Dean jerks in his seat. Sabrina's raising her eyebrows at him, behind her glasses, a little smile curving her mouth that promises something a little better than book dust and computer lessons. "I'm always ready," Dean says, grinning, and gets her to roll her eyes—yeah, he's in there—but his eyes drag back to the webpage, the posts. He scrolls down, quick—post after post, waiting to be read. "Real quick—borrow a pen?"

She has one—she's a sexy librarian, of course she has one—and he uncrumples a receipt from his jacket pocket and writes down the URL, careful to get it right. rearviewmirror.livejournal.com. He wants to click on the comments, but.

"Come on, the movie's starting soon," Sabrina says, and Dean closes Netscape, folds the receipt very carefully into his pocket, stands up. He's got a date to make out with a hot chick in the back of a movie theater, and maybe a little more, and Sam's whole Eeyore routine has to take a number. Dean will figure it out. He's got an easy way to run a stakeout, now.

December 4

Still can't decide. Anyone else going through this?

current mood: agonized current music: motorhead (AGAIN)

Comments:

teenagehamburger: Yes!! I still don't know where I want to go. Mom wants me to stay close to home, but Delaware sucksssss. Where are you looking?

rearviewmirror: Anywhere. TBH I'm still not even sure I should apply.

teenagehamburger: WTF?? Of course you should!! College is the big escape, remember?

December 1

He's driving me INSANE

current mood: annoyed current music: motorhead (again)

Comments:

bloodofreptile: lol you got it bad

rearviewmirror: right now I just want to hit him with a brick, actually

teenagehamburger: LOL!! Sorry :( :(

rearviewmirror: Sigh. I guess it could be worse, right?

teenagehamburger: Definitely!! He could be the cute cheerleader from 4th period who doesn't know I exist….

coppertonebuttgirl: oh, sorry hammie, that sucks <3

November 29

The thing is, I don't even want anything crazy? I just want to be—me. Just me, without anyone breathing down my neck. Trig teacher says I could get in to one of the top ten, but I just want to go *anywhere that's not here*

current mood: restless current music: Pearl Jam (home alone!)

Comments:

bloodofreptile: i hear you lol. why don't they get that the rules and hovering and all that shit just makes us want to run faster?

rearviewmirror: Exactly! My teacher keeps talking about college like it's a place to expand your mind and stuff, and that's fine, but lately I just want to expand my horizons. Kind of ironic?

bloodofreptile: yeah lol haven't you lived like everywhere?

rearviewmirror: Feels like it.

teenagehamburger: Is You Know Who going to college too?

November 18

I feel like it shouldn't be this hard. Normal people have it easy.

current mood: indescribable current music: silence

Comments:

coppertonebuttgirl: feel free to talk to me anytime <3

November 3

Dad's gone again. Didn't say goodbye. We went to the movies and he gave me a beer, and we watched the stars for an hour in the parking lot even though it was freaking freezing. Happier than I've been in a while. Don’t want it to change but it has to change.

current mood: current music:

Comments:

teenagehamburger: OMG, that sounds so romantic?? I can't believe you were drinking!! Aren't you underage?

bloodofreptile: lol relax it's not a big deal

teenagehamburger: I'm just saying!!

coppertonebuttgirl: wish it wasn't hard for you <3

bloodofreptile: dude you've got to say something

rearviewmirror: I literally can't.

bloodofreptile: ok but it's gonna drive you crazy. do you even know if he's gay? start with that maybe

The posts go on, and on. Reading backwards through time, it's a strange piecing-together. rearviewmirror is active in about ten communities and Dean reads through all of them, that week, bringing an illicit cup of coffee in to the library when he doesn't have a construction shift. He reads with his hand over his mouth and by the time he has to get off the computer he's got a headache, every time, his throat dry and aching.

The journal's been active for six months. Dean clicks through the pages to the very start and reads it in the right order, his heart pounding oddly in his ears. I don't know what this place is. A journal, I guess, considering the name. I just need somewhere to talk where no one will listen.

It's not a pouring-out, like some teenage girl doodling hearts around her crush's initials. He holds back. Never says exactly where they're living, never mentions names. To figure out who it was, you'd have to be one of two other people, and Dean knows that Dad can barely turn on a computer, much less go onto the internet and pore over some teenage angst-fest. Dean spends half his time wishing he were the same. Maybe if he hadn't asked Sabrina for help.

At home, Sam's the same as he always is. Comes home after his own stint at the library, eats the dinner Dean gives him. He reads, most of the time. Does his schoolwork. Dean says, careful one night, "Hey, True Lies is on. Wanna watch?" but Sam only gives him a strange, uncertain look and says, "No, I have a paper due," and he shuts himself into their bedroom with the door very firmly closed, and Dean sits there on the couch alone with a beer and Jamie Lee Curtis being sexy as hell on the fuzzy TV, and he—he doesn't know what to do.

He remembers that day, the looking at the stars day. It was November 2. A nasty anniversary, in their family, and yeah, Dad left. Dean got it. He'd thought Sam did, too, by now. It was better to have Dad gone, on a hunt, than trying to drink himself to death at home in the apartment. At least he was working, that way, and not hurting himself. To distract both of them, Dean picked Sam up from the library and they went straight to the movie theater—the Blair Witch sequel, with Dean providing running commentary about how dumb they were about dealing with ghosts, which at least made Sam grin and elbow him to shut up, even if he was laughing too, the liar—and, yeah, afterward they'd picked up Taco Bell, and then after that Dean swung through the liquor store drive-thru and they parked out, and he let Sam have a beer, and they both sat on the trunk and leaned back against the cold glass or the rear window and didn't really talk, much. The stars, big above them. The night, quiet. Sam was pressed against his side, chilled out and not bitching about anything, and Dean tucked his hand behind his head and he was pretty content with the world, right then. His brother, here, and a six-pack waiting, and nothing happening right then that'd hurt them. Sam smiled at him, that night, before he went to bed. It was sweet—like he used to be, when he was little—and Dean had ended up falling asleep on the couch, watching the public access, but his dreams that night were—good, like they never were on the night of November 2, and it had felt… okay.

do you even know if he's gay?

The college prep—that wasn't a surprise. It hurt but it didn't shock. All his worrying, all his whining, wanting to be 'free'—whatever free meant—it was all part and parcel of the last decade. Dean should've known better. Sam wasn't mellowing out. Sam was a stubborn little shit and he'd always wanted to have a life that wasn't—this.

The gay thing. That hit different. One of the communities Sam followed was for lesbian and gay youth, talking about their coming out experiences. Sam didn't post there much but he commented, asked questions. How do you know? What does it feel like? The hamburger girl was from there, a lesbian chick trapped in some Delaware high school. Encouraging, commiserating. They talked about how college would be their big escape, their chance to go to a big city and find their way. Meet people. Only apparently hamburger girl was crushing on the cheerleader from fourth period, and Sam—

Dean makes an excuse the next day. Saturday: no work for Dean, no school for Sam. Alone in the apartment together, all day, after Dean's week of reading—he can't face it. "Where are you going?" Sam asks, eight a.m. with his hair fucked up and coffee clenched between his hands, and Dean looks at him in his pajama pants and his ratty hand-me-down shirt, skinny and tall and hiding things Dean can't handle, and he says, snappish in a way he doesn't mean to be—"Out, Sam, for christ's sake—" and sees Sam's expression shutter before the apartment door slams behind him.

He goes for a drive, out of town. Cold, threatening rain like it always is, but it won't snow. Out—past the airport, past the suburbs, out to Black Lake. They killed the nymph that was drowning people out here, him and Dad, when they first arrived. Sam stayed home. Sullen on the other end of the line when Dean called to say they'd finished the job, and they were getting burgers for dinner, and did Sam want one. Whatever, Sam had said, like even answering was an imposition. That was November, too.

He sits on the hood, heels braced on the bumper, arms locked around his knees. The lake looks cold. He wants to sink into it, wants to feel that freezing shock, like the polar bear dive he did on a dare back in Illinois. The way the brain just goes blank, tv-static filling up everything and washing all the shit away. All the weird crap you don't want to think about, frozen, and the only thing to focus on just—getting out.

He's not going to dive into the lake. It's nine in the morning and he's wearing his only pair of boots. He hasn't gone out with Sabrina all week. He's been piss-poor at the construction site and McMillan nearly brained him with a hammer yesterday, because Dean wasn't paying attention, and the foreman screamed at him in front of the whole crew. None of that feels close, right now. He breathes the wet-clogged air, cold and mossy, turning his ring restlessly on his finger.

Back at that high school they went to in Raton, Mrs. Encinas in 6th period English told Dean he'd be smart, if he didn't just give up all the time. All he needed to do was take the time to read between the lines, to actually interpret what he was reading and not take things on face value. He made some joke. He doesn't remember what it was, now. Like he didn't know what the fuckin Great Gatsby was saying, when he hoped and hoped and never got what he wanted. When happiness always felt like it was about a thousand miles away, on the other side of a lake he couldn't cross, and hope went out like a snuffed light. Dean can read what's not there. He's done it his whole life.

The problem: Sam's little online journal went back six months. They've lived in four towns, in that time. He never uses names, never puts up anything that'd really identify him. They were in Maryland, August-September-first of October, and it was a comment right at the end of August, on the community for gay kids, talking to the hamburger girl: I like someone, too. He doesn't know. He. The same he that carried forward, through all his journal entries, from Maryland to Washington across whole breadth of the country. He likes classic rock. He drives me nuts. He gave me a beer, and I wanted—

Dean curls forward over his knees, sliding his hands into his hair, breathing hard between his knees. He can read between the lines and he wishes that he couldn't. He wishes—god. What? That Sam would just meet a nice girl and fuck her and get it out of his system? Except how he was writing, it wasn't like it was new. It was something he'd been thinking about. When did you know? had read one of the forum posts, and in the responses, among all the dumb teenage crap about formal dances and jerking off to the wrong person in the music video, there was a comment by username rearviewmirror that said, I broke my leg and he carried me to the car and I wanted to kiss him.

Sam broke his leg in July, the summer he turned fifteen. He'd been trying to stay quiet but he'd had this trapped whimper in his throat that he couldn't stop, and Dad had stayed behind to cover their backs and it had been left to Dean, to scoop Sam up, his whole body quivering with the shock—to hug him close between the trees, humid Georgia night making every place their skin touched slick with sweat—to let Sam cling to his neck, shuddering, and to put a hand on his back and whisper, hey, Sammy, it's not even that bad, huh? no bone sticking out, you did good. we're gonna get you a cast and I'm gonna draw you a great picture, okay, Cindy Crawford with her tits out, right there on your shin and Sam had been so shaky that his laugh sounded like he was crying, but he'd nodded against Dean's neck and chattered out sounds cool, Dean, and when Dean got him to the car Sam hadn't wanted to let him go—so they crawled into the backseat together, Sam still half in his lap and with his arms still tight around Dean's neck. Dad got into the front and frowned at Dean in the rearview, and Dean nodded, and when the car leapt forward Sam gasped and gripped at Dean's shirt when his leg got jostled, and Dean put his hand in Sam's hair and said, it's okay, you're okay, and Sam—wanted to kiss him.

He can't square it. It's like there's some twinned version of his brother, in this place Dean never knew existed. All these secrets he's been hoarding, this other person he's been. These wants that make him a stranger.

He goes back home with stuff for lunch around noon. Sam's reading, in the bedroom. "Got pb&j or grilled cheese," Dean calls, down the shotgun kitchen through the thin-carpeted hall, and Sam calls back, "I'm not hungry," which is a goddamn shit of a lie. He grows like an inch a day, he's never not hungry. Dean braces his hands on the counter and counts to five, in his head. He puts the bread away, and puts the cheese in the fridge. He goes into the living room and turns on the TV and it's college football, which is boring as hell, but it fills the apartment with noise. He wishes Dad were home. He wishes he were hunting.

The Huskies lose. Sam hasn't come out of the room, as far as Dean can tell. He's had—four beers? He looks at the table. Five. It's getting toward dark and it's raining, a-fucking-gain, and Dean's still wearing his jacket and his boots and his ears are cold, because the heater in here sucks, and he's shredded the label of the beer everywhere, everywhere. He brushes it off his knees and that just means it's gonna get ground into the shit-brown carpet, but—who cares. He's got other things on his mind.

He gets the last beer out of the fridge. Should've bought more. "Got some spare cash," he says, to the dark hall. There's a halo of light around the half-closed bedroom door. "Thinking pizza for dinner."

Silence.

Dean pushes the beer bottle against his forehead. "C'mon, Sam. It's not going to kill you to prefer pepperoni or sausage. Just say something."

"Doesn't matter," is the response.

Dean squeezes his eyes closed, slams the bottle down to the counter. It's four steps to the bedroom and the door flies open under his palm. "Just fucking say," Dean says, and Sam's looking at him with big eyes, curled up on the twin bed with his back up against the wall, books spread open all around him. Homework, of course. "Just say it, okay? What do you want?"

Sam stares at him. "I don't care! Get—whatever, pepperoni. Jeez, what's up with you?"

"Sure you don't want sausage?" Dean says, kind of nasty, and Sam frowns, shakes his head. Goddamn it. Dean drags a hand over his face, sags against the door frame. He's—a little dizzy. Oh—okay, so maybe he should've eaten, sometime since this morning. "Damn it, Sam," he says, his stomach twinging.

"What?" Give him this—maybe he's sneaking around, maybe he's lying about half his life, but Sam doesn't shrink back from an argument. He's still in his pajamas. He shoves his notebook away, lifts his chin. "What?"

"Been doing some reading," Dean says, and watches Sam's face scrunch disbelievingly. "Rearviewmirror? You don't even like cars."

It's weirdly satisfying to watch Sam blanch. He's been so unaffected the last little while it's almost a relief to get a real reaction. His mouth parts, his eyes go big. He stares at Dean in total silence except the rain drumming on the roof, and then he says, "That's—private."

"Not that private," Dean says. "You're putting shit on the internet for any asshole to read, Sam. It's not a pretty princess diary with a sparkly lock."

Sam's face is white. He licks his lips, his back rigid against the wall. "How did you—you never—"

"I know how to use a friggin computer," Dean says, and watches Sam close his eyes. "So? Got a lot to say to a bunch of strangers. Might as well say it to me. I mean, I'm your brother, right? Family."

It comes out hard but his voice cracks, on the last word. He swallows and some of the anger dissipates. Sam's jaw flexes and he tucks his hands behind his neck and his knees drag in, like defense. Like he needs defense. Against Dean. Like it's Dean who's wrecking things.

Dean's legs go out from under him. He sits down. Right there, in the doorway to the bedroom, the frame hard against his spine. The rain's loud and he doesn't—what is there to say? "You should've told me."

That's really it. Sam looks at him. Disbelief. "How?" he says, and Dean tips his head back against the wall, looks at the popcorn ceiling, says, "I don't know, it's not my damn secret. But you should've."

"Yeah, that would've gone great," Sam says, sarcastic.

Silence. The rain. Dean drags his hand over his face again, clears his throat. "So. You're—queer." For some reason it seems like the simplest thing to start with.

Sam snorts. "I'm not, like, jerking off to JC Chasez," he says, bitter.

"Who?" Dean says, but shakes his head. "God, whatever. Jesus, Sam, I can't—don't talk about you jerking off. You're not—you don't date chicks, either. Ever. So you're—"

"I don't know," Sam says. Kind of firm. Dean closes his eyes to not look at him. "I don't know, okay? But that's not what—" Pause, while he drags in a breath that's audible across the room. Dean curls over, his forehead between his knees. It's too big to hear. Sam blows out air. "You read the whole thing?"

Frail. Cobweb soft, like if Dean breathed too hard it'd break. Dean folds his hands over his head. "I read the whole thing," he says.

"Don't—" Sam says, quick, and cuts himself off. Dean can't stand it—he looks, peeking up, and Sam's made himself small, there at the head of the bed. His mouth is small, his lips between his teeth—his eyes, big and scared. "Dean. I wouldn't—I swear. I wouldn't—"

"Kiss me?" Sam flinches like from a raised fist, when Dean's all the way over here. Dean licks his lips, dropping his hands so they dangle useless between his knees. "Or, what. Leave? Either way it's pretty fucked up, for me, Sam."

"Oh my god," Sam says, very quietly, and—christ. Looks like he's gonna cry.

"Sam," Dean says, and no matter how pissed he is, that's not—Sam fights back. Sam always fights back, he's frickin' annoying that way. He's not supposed to crack like this. Dean rolls up to his knees and Sam's looking away, neck craned unnaturally so that his face is pointed at the broken-blind-covered window so that Dean can't see, but Dean can—Dean can see his teeth so hard in his lip that the skin there's white, and his chest shaky, and his fist clenched in the thin fabric of his pajama bottoms, and, and—"Sammy," Dean says, again, and Sam's eyes close and there is—shit, shit, a tear, running fast out of the corner of his eye, streaking down his cheek so quick that if Dean could blink he might've missed it.

Dean's gut hurts, like he took a punch from a werewolf and he's gonna be bruised for the next three weeks. He doesn't have anything to say to make it better, not when it's this screwed up. This isn't Sam bitching about Dad or whining about crossbow practice or pouting about a move. Sam's been thinking about this for two years and he's managed to talk about it with people, online at least. Dean's coming at it with a week's slow raw realization and he doesn't know how to make it—not how it is.

He gets over to the bed, on his knees. Sam won't look at him, like the view of nothing through the blinds is the most fascinating thing in the world. There's a wet shining trail, down his cheek to his jaw. A damp circle on his t-shirt. Dean says, because he can't think of what else to say, "You really—you want—" and even then, can't articulate it. A kiss. Sex. A kind of close they've never been. He says, slower, "Is that why you want to go?"

Sam drags in air. Sounds like it hurts.

Dean drags his teeth over his lip. There are books all over the bed. He pushes them away, and Sam's notebook. He pushes up—knee on the mattress, and sinking down to his hip, and Sam's close enough to touch, now, and he jerks and looks at Dean like he's an alien. A ghost. Something that can't be real, only they both know that it is. Dean touches Sam's hand, fisted there in his pants, and Sam jerks again, his stiff shoulders back against the wall, and he shoves Dean's hand but no matter the crazy growth spurt Sam's been having Dean's still stronger, still has the reach—he grips Sam's wrist and yanks, gets him off balance, and then he's right inside Sam's grapple and has his hand flat on Sam's chest, pressing him harder against the paint, and Sam stares at him wild-eyed with his breath both fast and deep and Dean leans forward and presses their mouths together. It's a bad kiss—he barely hits on center, and Sam freezes—but there's the touch of warmth, Sam's lips—soft—and the shocked air hitting Dean's face—and Dean drags in breath through his nose and resettles, fits his mouth to Sam's soft open lower lip and makes it better, his head tipping, easy pressure there, just the faintest amount of suction so that when he pulls back a millimeter there's a little smooch sound, and that makes it—real.

He kissed his little brother. No getting around that. No pretending. His nose brushes Sam's cheek and Sam's not really breathing, and Dean—fuck, Dean does it again, pressing in and letting Sam's wrist go so that he can get a hand on Sam's jaw, tipping him so it's good. Sam makes a tiny noise and breathes out hard against his mouth, and when Dean kisses him for a third time Sam meets it, his lips moving finally out of that still shock, his fingertips brushing Dean's arm all careful, his heart pounding under Dean's hand.

Dean pulls back. An inch between them—not enough but all Dean can seem to manage. He swallows. His lips are tingling, and his eyes are closed and he doesn't want to open them, and his fingers—jesus, he's got them tangled in Sam's hair like Sam's some easy hot chick he's picked up at a dive bar, pressing her up against the wall in the bathroom hallway, knowing how the night's going to end.

"We can't," Sam says. Sam. His voice, steady and familiar. "We—Dean. This isn't—"

"No," Dean says, god knows why. He pulls back, though—pulls his hand out of Sam's hair, stands up. His legs wobble for a second. He has to open his eyes and so he drags in a breath and does, and Sam's sitting there with his shoulders high and tight and his hands fisted on his knees and his hair a little fluffed on one side, a little screwy. His mouth parted and his eyes—fixed on Dean's face, looking all over it. Like he's memorizing a trail map, for an unknown stretch of land.

"I'm drunk," Dean says. It's not true. Five beers—he's buzzed but he knows what he's doing. Sam doesn't contradict the lie. "Acting nuts. Sorry, Sam. I—"

"I want pepperoni," Sam says. His face isn't white anymore. He's flushed, dark pink in the hollows of his cheeks. His eyes are dark, wide and fixed on Dean, and there's still that shining trail on his cheek but it's drying. "Order from that place on Melrose. Garlic knots, too."

Dean backs up a step, pins on a smile. "What, you think I'm dumb? Like I wouldn't get knots," he says, and Sam doesn't smile but he nods, brief and fast like Dean's picking up a play in some con they're running, and Dean snaps a finger-gun at Sam—fuck, what is he doing—and turns out of the room, says—"Okay, dinner in thirty minutes or less or your money back!" and walks through the kitchen and out into the living room and out the front door, and closes it behind himself, and leans against it and stares blindly out into the rain, the setting sun still sparking some tiny golden bit of light out to the west, past the horizon.

He licks his lips and tastes salt, not his own. Sam's hand, on his arm—skimming, brushing light through the thickness of his jacket. Like he wasn't sure he'd be allowed to really touch. He drags in the rain-soaked air. He'll drive, to get the pizza. He'll drive, and he'll give Sam time. When he gets back he'll offer Sam half the pie and a beer, and there'll be some movie on TV that Sam probably won't want to watch, but maybe he will. They'll be—brothers. Dean knows how to do that. It feels like it's all he's got left.

It's—not easy but it's not all that hard, either. There's a brutal week where Dean's torn between walking on eggshells and wanting to wrestle Sam to the ground, and Sam goes perfectly silent—not pouty withdrawal or furious silent-treatment, but as still and quiet as though he's not even there. Dean can't bear it. It takes Dad coming home to break it—Dad, and christ, when he calls to say he's coming back Dean completely freezes and his mind fills up with—with—but then Sam looks at him and takes the phone out of his hand and says, his mouth's full—what's up? and after that it's like things… settle. It's not okay but it's livable.

rearviewmirror.livejournal.com goes quiet. Dean checks, occasionally, over the months that pass. When he's looking up some random piece of lore for Dad, when they're hunting alone and Sam's stuck back at whatever shitty hotel they stored him at, and Dean's on research duty because Sam's in high school and can't answer his phone. Dean types in the address and checks, and it's still that last post. Anyone else going through this? He hopes, sincerely, not. It's too fucked up for anyone else to bear. At least the Winchesters have practice.

They run PT. Sam does his homework. Dean watches TV. Hunting focuses things. There's stuff to kill and people to save and things aren't falling apart any more than they ever are, so—Dean deals.

Sam leaves.

It's January. Dean's in a library, alone. Dad's working a job north of Boise and he sent Dean down to Wendover to take care of a haunting, and Dean's done and Dad called and said two more days and there's this raw wounded spot where Dean should be able to turn, to look over his left shoulder and say—but it's empty there, and so he's in a library.

Sam started posting again, when he got to school. Small stuff. That he was sorry for the long break. That he'd ended up at a university after all. The hamburger girl doesn't respond anymore but the Nine Inch Nails boy does: thought you were dead, he says, no-caps like he's so goddamn cool, and Sam says, Just working some stuff out.

Sam likes his professors. He plays pick-up soccer with some of the guys from his dorm. His roommate snores. He doesn't listen to music at all. There's nothing—real. There's none of the sadboy shit, nothing about what he's feeling, no pondering of what it all means. He picks up a few different Livejournal friends, clearly people from his classes, who crack jokes about Ancient Civ and Linear Algebra. He joins a community focused around civil rights litigation. He might as well not be there.

Dean reads it all. If Sam's not calling then Dean's gonna check in whatever way he can. When Sam left Dean made sure he had at least one good knife in his bag and he said don't forget the salt when Sam hiked his backpack onto his shoulder, and Sam snorted and looked at him like a gunshot but he nodded, and Sam's not dumb, he knows how to take care of himself, but. Dean's the big brother, here. He's within his rights, to check and make sure baby bro's not being a dumbass.

January and it's fuckin cold, in Wendover, but the library's too warm. Dean keeps his coat on anyway, scrolling through the comms. He's kinda turning into an expert, navigating the pages, recognizing the shorthand. He hasn't made an account. Doesn't know why he would. He finishes his scan of the comms Sam's part of and doesn't really see any relevant posts, and no comments from rearviewmirror that he can find. He chews his cheek and goes back to the main page, thinking—okay, he can get out of here. Beer and dinner, and finding a motel that doesn't look toxic, and waiting for Dad to call. Not the worst night he could have. He refreshes, one last time, just in case, and there's a new post. He reads:

January 23

Done with class for the week. Feeling restless.

current mood: current music:

Comments:

lawblog69: we should go out!!

bloodofreptile: go get laid

Dean snorts. At least the NIN kid is consistent. He refreshes again and there's a new comment.

bloodofreptile: go get laid

rearviewmirror: Not really in the cards.

He takes a breath, sitting there at the computer bank. It's quiet in here—the good people of Wendover aren't much for the library, apparently—but he feels like someone's right there. Like he could reach out and touch, when it's just words on a glowing screen. Still—the speed of the comment—Sam's… sitting there. Right now, on a computer in Palo Alto, looking at the same thing Dean is.

He refreshes.

bloodofreptile: go get laid

rearviewmirror: Not really in the cards.

bloodofreptile: still holding onto that? very hufflepuff. how long has it been?

rearviewmirror: my whole life

Dean presses his knuckles to his lips, hard enough that he can feel his teeth pressing back. Jesus, Sam. He refreshes—another comment, from coppertonebuttgirl, agreeing about the restlessness but apparently she's off to a date with her boyfriend, and Sam responds and says sounds nice :), and jesus, Sam, Dean thinks. Off to have the big college experience like he wanted so bad, off to have that new shiny life, and after five months away he's still all sadsack, still not actually living.

He clicks the comment box. He types, unaccountably mad. He hits submit, and gets a warning that it'll show as anonymous. He waits, and refreshes, and reads:

Anonymous: Just go hit a bar. Live a little. Thought you were supposed to be smart, college boy.

rearviewmirror: Since when does smart have anything to do with it?

Dean rolls his eyes. He can hear Sam's voice saying it, nettled and trying to sound like he isn't.

Anonymous: You're on here mooning after Cindy Crawford when Claudia Schiffer and Tyra Banks are out there in the real world. Have a beer, get over it.

A pause. Dean has to refresh twice. The librarian walks by with her cart of books and gives him a distracted smile, and Dean's so addled he doesn't actually process and then return it until she's already gone.

rearviewmirror: I don't think it's something you get over. It mattered. It still does, to me.

Dean chews his thumbnail. Sam's face, turned unnaturally, looking out that window at the rain. The wet track, on his cheek.

Anonymous: Matters enough that you're never going to move on?

rearviewmirror: I didn't think you could move on from family. Maybe I was wrong.

The air goes out of Dean's chest. He turns away from the computer, entirely, swiveling the chair so he's looking out at the lonely bookshelves. He flexes his jaw and swivels back around. Hits refresh.

The thread of comments is gone. He blinks, confused. He doesn't think he was hallucinating—been a while, since he was that tired and drunk. But—oh—in its place, a single comment, under the brief conversation with the NIN kid:

rearviewmirror: Tell me if it's you.

Dean licks his lips. He closes out of the browser, picks up his notepad and keys. On the steps outside it's cold, cold, fucking cold, and this town is bleak. He walks down to the Impala, waiting there in the iced-over grey snow, and braces his hands on the hood, and blows out a long purling winter-dragon breath, and then fishes his phone out of his pocket. Another new phone, but he's got Sam's number memorized, and he almost calls before he chickens out. If it's not actually wanted—he imagines that conversation and he's just not constitutionally capable, right now, of facing how goddamn awkward it'd be.

He texts: It's me.

The response, after seconds: Where are you?

The shitty part of Utah. That's saying something. Easier, like this. Like it's not him kicking down a doorway right into Sam's head.

I don't have class tomorrow.

Could be random, if he didn't know who he was talking to. Dean leans his elbows on the hood of the car, looking at the little box of black-and-white text. He chews his lips and thinks. Before he can respond, another message:

I don't want to move on.

Dean tips his head enough that he's pressing the edge of the phone into his forehead. His fingers are cold. He sniffs, his nose dripping in the icy weather, and types, careful to make sure he gets it right: I'm nine hours away.

Less, if he goes over 100 in the boring parts of Nevada, and if he doesn't stop at all for a catnap.

Stop in Reno for a nap. You get weird when you drive all night. Text me when you're close.

Dean works his jaw, standing there in the cold. He's got nothing to do, for two days. He's got most of a tank of gas. He's got—nothing. Nothing. He gets in the car, and he drives.

It's only 9:30 when he gets to Reno. There were parts of Nevada where he drove very, very fast. He pulls into a truck stop, gets more gas and parks out near where the semis are lined up, the drivers early-birding the night away. Still cold here but less so. He twists around so his back's to the passenger door and looks out the driver window at the neon signs of the truck stop, the cars going in and out of the gas islands. He ate a little but his stomach was all twisted up and he couldn't get much down. A beer would go easier but he doesn't want to be drunk. Well. He does. This is insane. This is—completely stupid.

He pulls out his phone, looks at it. Dials and holds it to his ear, and it rings three times—long enough for him to change his mind four times—before there's an answer, and Sam's voice says, "Dean?"

His voice. Dean closes his eyes, tips his head back against the cold glass of the window. "Long time, no speak," Dean says. It feels rusty.

Sam's quiet for a second, on the other end. "Not really, though. Right?"

"I guess so. It's not the same." Dean listens to the little acknowledging sound Sam makes. There's silence again, for seconds that he counts—one and then two and then three. He listens to the cooling tick of the engine, through it, and then says, before he loses his nerve, "I shouldn't come. Right? This is nuts."

There's some noise, staticky. Like something passed over the mic on Sam's phone. After a beat, Sam says, "You should do what you want to do."

"Oh, should I," Dean says, and it comes out sarcastic, but he doesn't really mean it to be mean. Sam doesn't take the bait, staying quiet on the other end, and Dean opens his eyes again, watching a huge truck muscle past the gas island, watching the normal world go by. He rubs his eye. "I've been—it's been weird, Sam."

Understatement, but he doesn't know why he says it. That kind of stuff isn't for Sam to worry about.

"Go to sleep," Sam says, instead of responding. "An hour or something, just enough so you won't drive off the road. Text me when you're close."

Same thing he said before. "It'll be like three in the morning when I'm close," Dean says, and Sam says, "I'll be awake," and then the line disconnects, and Dean's left there alone again on the bench seat, but it—feels different.

He sort of sleeps, sort of doesn't. He's got a talent for going to bed wherever and whenever he has to—on spare tires and on forest floors and in a closet, once, with a propane tank as his pillow—but his brain won't shut up. He drifts in and out, for the hour Sam asked him for, and then he gets out of the car and goes into the 24-hour c-store and buys a big cup of coffee and a Hershey bar, and points the hood west, and follows the yellow dashed line home.

He texts from a gas station outside Sacramento. Sam texts back in less than a minute with an address. Dean glances at his map of California and responds: 45 minutes, and it's more like thirty when he pulls up to the—yeah, the motel, and he makes a sound that's sort of like a laugh except it doesn't feel like one. He turns into the parking lot and the headlights flash the building, and there, sitting on the sidewalk with his back to a pillar.

Dean parks. Sam has his arms folded over his knees, but he unfurls, stands. Dean gets out of the car and Sam's—jesus, ten feet away, his face totally visible under the streetlight. His hair's a little longer. "Did you get taller?" Dean says, and Sam huffs, his head ducking, and—fuck everything else, it's Dean's little brother, and he drags Sam into a hug, folding his arms over Sam's shoulders even if he has to lift on his toes a little to do it. Sam goes stiff for half a second, but he hugs back, and Dean turns his face in, Sam's hair in his nose like it always is, and feels him—warm, and safe. All Dean ever wanted for him, pretty much.

"You have to get the room," Sam says, when they pull apart. At Dean's eyebrows he shrugs, the corner of his mouth curled. "What? My scholarship doesn't include seedy rent by the hour stuff."

"Oversight much?" Dean says, but he goes in, and he gets a room. Two queens, because that's what the tired miserable little desk clerk says they have available. Means Dean doesn't have to think about other possibilities, and it means that when he dangles the keys off his finger and Sam half-smiles at him, when they've walked down the cold sidewalk side by side, when Dean opens the door and finds the different motel room, same as the first—Sam sits on one bed, and Dean sits on the other, and they look at each other, and it's like it's two years ago and they're just two kids, waiting for Dad to come home.

Sam is taller. Taller than Dean, now. His hair long enough to fall in his eyes, which it does constantly. Newish sneakers, and old jeans, and a hooded sweatshirt, and a denim jacket over the top of that. Not warm enough for the Bay in winter, but Dean bites his tongue before he says anything about it.

"How are your classes?" he says, instead.

Sam's cheek sucks in, like he's chewing it. After a second he says, "You don't want to talk about my classes, man." His head tips. "Anyway. You read about it, right."

It was a mistake not to stop for beer. Dean needs something to do with his hands. "Your algebra professor sounds like an asshole," he says.

Makes Sam smile before he ducks his head, looking down at his lap. "I thought—" He swallows, audibly. He shakes his head, his hair falling down and hiding his face. "Only reason I started posting again was that I wondered if you might still—if you'd check."

It's quiet, honest. Dean hasn't talked to Sam in person for half a year and he's off-balance. Expecting Sam to snark, to be dismissive, to roll his eyes. Small hours of the morning, maybe he's too tired not to be honest. Maybe he's growing up. Dean's not prepared for that.

Sam looks up at him when Dean's silent for too long. His teeth dig into the corner of his mouth and he drags his hand through his hair, gets it off his forehead. "I said I didn't want to move on. You know what I meant, right?"

Dean huffs. "Yeah, I'm not an idiot, Sam," he says, and Sam's eyes tighten. Dean leans back on his hands, tips his head back on his shoulders to look at the ceiling. "Thought this was the whole point of getting out. Getting away, making a whole new life. Being someone else."

"I'm still me," Sam says, unseen. "And it wasn't the whole point. I want a life. That part—whatever, that doesn't matter right now. But I never thought the other thing was going to go away."

He stands up, so Dean can see him. Dean looks at him down his nose, and Sam's—god. Tall. That keeps being his first thought. Tall, and maybe not a stranger, even if he's real damn strange. Sam steps closer, in the little space between the two beds, chewing his lip again. He's gonna make a sore there. "Dean," he says, and Dean raises his eyebrows in response. "You came."

"Yeah," Dean says, rueful. "Well. I'm Cindy Crawford."

Sam's face ripples—a frown, surprise—and then a huffed little laugh—and then he steps between Dean's knees and touches his chest, his jaw. Leans down, slow, telegraphing like they're practicing a fight, and Dean stays exactly where he is, leaned back on his hands, and Sam's mouth touches his—softly. Not hesitant. Dean lets his eyes close and feels it. Puff of air against his face as Sam lets out a tense breath and then another kiss, the damp inside Sam's lip catching against Dean's, and Dean kisses back then, reaching up and getting Sam's jaw, his jacket, fisting the denim and pulling Sam closer. There's a stagger—Sam's knee landing on the bed by Dean's hip, and Dean gets an arm around his lower back and kisses him again, tasting him. Salt, and when Dean kisses him again and presses his mouth open, licks inside, there's coffee-taste, Sam's tongue—slick, tentative—he stayed up, to wait for Dean—his kiss clumsier now, like he doesn't have much practice.

Dean pulls back a few inches. Sam's half-draped on him, his weight nearly in Dean's lap. His eyes are dark but big with surprise, like he didn't expect Dean to go with it. "Sammy," Dean says, and Sam—shudders, his hands closing hard around Dean's shoulders. Okay, Dean thinks, filing that away. He drags a thumb over Sam's jaw, where he's got a barely-there prickle of stubble. "What are we doing?"

Sam shakes his head, licks his lips. "This," he says, holding the side of Dean's neck. "This."

They peel Sam's jacket off, and then Dean's. Sam's still in that hoodie, soft black, and Dean gets his fingers just under the hem of it, barely grazing Sam's stomach, kissing him again—tangled up close on the edge of the bed, Sam's thigh slung over his. Sam keeps touching his face, his chest. His amulet, swinging forward between them when he urges Sam down to his back on the mattress, a knee between Sam's and his hand still there on Sam's belly. Sam grips the amulet and breathes out hot against Dean's face and lifts up for another kiss, which Dean gives him easy, and it's—god, it's good. The lights on, the room warm, Sam wanting underneath his hand. His mouth, slick and open, learning how to press back, how to give as good as he's getting. Dean kisses his cheekbone, his jaw, settles his hand flat on Sam's stomach to ground him, says, "Sammy, you've done this before, right?" Sam hitches breath, nods. Dean sorta laughs, lifts up so he can actually see Sam's expression. "More than once?"

"Twice," Sam says, and when Dean raises his eyebrows he frowns, vaguely indignant. "Jenny Morrison, just before graduation." He licks his lips. "And—a guy. After student orientation, here."

"Playing the field, huh?" Dean says. There's no reason it should make his stomach go molten hot. He rubs Sam's stomach, feels the rise of his breath. "You like it?" Sam nods, again. "What'd you do?"

Sam's cheeks are dark, brick-red. He licks his lips again and Dean ducks back in to kiss him, knocking his mouth open, tasting inside. Earns himself a small deep noise and Sam's hand sliding through his hair where it's too short to grab. He nudges Sam's nose and sits up, peeling off his overshirt. "C'mon. What'd you do? Didn't put that up on your journal, how am I supposed to know?"

"It was a rush party," Sam says, looking at him. He pulls his t-shirt off over his head, making sure his amulet stays put, and Sam blinks heavily, his lips parted. Jeez—it's weird. Hot. Sam wants him, Dean thinks, and it sends a rush of blood south. "He's—uh. Pre-med, smart."

"Not looking for his biography, Sammy," Dean says, and spreads his hands on Sam's hips, pushing up. The hoodie moves, the t-shirt underneath rucks up—Sam's pale here but still that faint all-over tan, darker than Dean's skin. He licks his lips. "What'd you do? Jerk each other off?"

Sam nods, again, his mouth open. God, Dean can imagine it. On some dorm-room bed, their heads leaned together, Sam's mouth open just like this—panting, his hand fumbling down—fuck, fuck it's hot, Sam nervous and into it and trying, making sure. "You liked it, huh?" Dean says, stroking his thumbs over Sam's bare belly.

"Yeah," Sam says, thin on not enough air, his knee drawing up. "But I—I thought about—when you kissed me—" and Dean kisses him again, groaning. Jesus, Sam's gonna kill him. Thinking about some shitty nervous freaked-out kiss when another guy's got his tongue in Sam's mouth. Sam grabs his shoulders, sits up, and Dean accommodates him easy, letting Sam touch him back—Sam's hands sliding down his chest, around to his ribs, grasping. "Dean," he says, panting.

"Let's get this off, huh?" Dean says, pulling, and Sam yanks the hoodie off in a second flat, his hair all ruffling up behind it. The shirt comes with it and there's just Sammy's bare smooth skin, that same pale tan all over. Small brownish nipples, slim muscles. His body. Dean dips and kisses his bare shoulder, licking there, biting, and Sam's nails dig into his ribs so he does it again, swinging a leg over so he's straddling Sam's lap, taking his time. He scrapes his teeth over the swell where Sam's collarbone dips into the arch of his trap, and Sam grips his neck, his back arching. He's hard. Shit, he's nineteen, he has to be hard. Dean slides his fingers down Sam's belly to his belt, tucking under the waist of his jeans, but Sam grips his wrist, then, groaning, saying—"Wait—wait—"

Dean drops his head to Sam's shoulder, groaning back. "We waited," he says, but Sam's hand is on his shoulder, pushing him back, making him look. "What?"

Sam's pink. "Have you—with a guy?" Dean rocks back but Sam's holding him close, looking all over his face. "Dean. Have you—"

"Yeah," Dean says, and watches Sam's ears go red. Sam doesn't need to know when, but it was all in the last year. Three dudes, hookups that were way too easy. They were good—turns out that Dean just likes sex, any way someone will give it to him—and he learned what it felt like to have a dick not his own in his hand, how it felt to slip a cock into his mouth and make a man groan. He hadn't thought about Sam while he was doing it, not really, but he's thinking about it now, and Sam's eyes have dropped, his lips between his teeth. Jealous? Dean smiles while Sam can't see and breaks Sam's hold on his wrist, and slides his hand down, and cups the crotch of Sam's jeans where he's swelling them out. Sam jerks, eyes flying open. "Means I know what I'm doing. Yeah?"

"Yeah," Sam breathes, and then it's—undoing his belt, and unzipping, and then—god, he's still got his sneakers on. Dean backs off and kicks off his boots, deliberately, and Sam blinks at him hot-eyed with his chest heaving and his jeans half-open looking like a friggin porno, but then he gets with the program, and the shoes thud to the shitty carpet and then they're practically racing, undressing, and when Dean kicks his boxers off to the side Sam's—naked, half on the bed, staring at him. Dean stares back, circling a hand around Sam's ankle. God, to look at him, in the lamplight. Long legs, hairier on the shins and lightly furred on the thighs, and a decent dark bush around a dick that's—jesus, that dick. Big, bigger than Dean's, bigger than—Dean licks his lips and looks up with an effort and Sam's staring right back at him, focused between his legs, his mouth parted. "Like what you see?" Dean says, and Sam doesn't answer, just reaches for him, and Dean crawls up the bed and settles on his elbow above Sam with their legs brushing bare, Sam's dick hot against his hip, and Sam kisses him with both hands on his face, his thigh dragging up against Dean's, his lips almost trembly.

Dean soothes a hand down Sam's ribs but Sam's—fuck. Shaking. They haven't even done anything. "Sammy," Dean whispers, between Sam's needing brief kisses, and Sam shakes his head and kisses him again and then ducks his head down, his nose brushing under Dean's jaw. Dean pulls Sam closer—tips, so they're on their sides—and pulls Sam's leg over his hip, pushes in, and—ah, shit, shit that feels good, Sam's big dick brushing in against his, dragging heavy and hot. "Oh," says Sam, small, and Dean slips his hand further and grips Sam's ass, the muscle tight and small—pulls in, and pulls again, encouraging, and Sam grips Dean's shoulder underhand tight enough to hurt but follows, pushing in with the rhythm Dean's urging. He's breathing fast, hot against Dean's throat, but he's got it—humping in, meeting Dean, making their dicks slide, his cockhead smearing wet against Dean's belly. Dean hums, kissing Sam's temple where he can just reach it, just enjoying the—insane way it feels. He lets Sam's ass go and Sam keeps going—good, good—and he licks his fingers sloppy, and reaches down between them, and for the first time he gets a grip on Sam's dick, feels the heft of it. Sam makes a sound like he's been shot and Dean says shh, easy, slicking his hand down to the base, squeezing hard as he pulls back up, and Sam makes another gulping strange sound, his thigh clutching hard around Dean's hip, his hand crushing Dean's lower back in closer. "That feel good?" Dean says, and Sam—comes. Fast, humping in, spurting up Dean's belly and his own, the slick getting all over Dean's dick, hot and wet, the sensation enormous. Dean squeezes him through it, knowing, and Sam humps in again and grabs his ass, nails digging in. Dean tips his head back, feeling it. God, it's good. Sam. His brother.

He swallows. His dick's throbbing, wanting more, feeling left behind. Sammy shudders and Dean licks his lips, pushes Sam back so his shoulders hit the bed. He flops—boneless, shocked—and Dean drags his hands over Sam's ribs, frames his hips. His dick is still big, flushed and wet, his balls clutched up high, and Dean licks his lips and says, "Okay," to no one, and leans down, and gets Sam's dick in his mouth.

A shock, Sam's body practically lifting off the bed. "What," he says, somewhere Dean can't see him—"What are you, oh—" and Dean thinks, oh, what if no one has done this? What if Jenny just opened her legs and she and Sam humped awkward and teenage in some backseat—what if pre-med only wiped his handful of Sam's jizz on the mattress and passed out—what if Dean's the first one, here, opening his jaw wide, careful of his teeth, slicking down, getting the whole fat length of it in his mouth. Only—he can't, fuck, Sam's too big. He fists the base, pulls off, spits and slicks the wet down. When he glances up Sam's up on his elbows, staring, and Dean grins at him, jerks it again, swallows. He can taste Sam's jizz, leftover from coming before. "Hang on," Dean says, and goes back down, letting the head bust his lips open, slicking tight down to his fist, dragging his tongue hard against the underside, suckling easy. Sam takes his statement as an order and grips his head, his shoulder, his hips cringing up into Dean's mouth, and Dean heaves in air, feels Sam firming up again, thick and needing and good.

He's only done this a few times but he—shit, he liked it. Likes it better the other way around, of course, but like this—his dick pressing into the bed, throbbing—Sam splitting open his mouth—yeah, it doesn't exactly suck. He bobs up and down, making sure to pay special attention to the soft ridge at the head, and Sam's making insane noises, now, up above him, petting his head and his shoulders and gripping, trying to shove up. Dean leans into his hip so he can't, fists his dick, pulls off gasping and licking his lips. Sam's still staring, down the length of his torso, and Dean jerks him through the goopy mess they're making—his spit, Sam's precome, what Sam's already come. "You like it?" Dean says, and Sam—rolls his eyes, the little shit.

"You're smug," Sam says, and Dean raises his eyebrows and says, "You're damn right I am," and lets Sam's dick go and goes down, down, no fist in the way until Sam's dick hits the back of his throat and he gags—breathes through it—slurps up with tight lips and then goes right back down, getting his throat used to it, learning the feel of this massive, awesome dick. Sam moans, pushes his hips up, and Dean lets him, rides it—lets Sam fuck up, lets him get a rhythm, like fucking—Sam, fucking his face—and Dean reaches down between his own legs and fists his own dick, finally, groaning in relief and making Sam shudder as the vibration rumbles through Dean's open throat. Sam grips his head with both hands, holding him down, and Dean drags in air through his nose and holds there, filled up with Sam and choking, spit flooding out of his open mouth—the world dark and just Sam's taste, his smell—and Sam makes a little sound—and Dean grunts and lifts off, breaks Sam's hold and crawls up his body, straddling his hips and dragging his dick against where Sam's is all sloppy-hot, dripping wet. Sam gasps up at him and grabs his hips, his ass, fucking up into him, and Dean grips both their dicks in two hands, fucking into the tight wet channel he's making for them both, and Sam pulls at his ass, spreading it, rocking his hips to help, moaning and looking helpless up into Dean's face, and Dean leans down and breathes against him and Sam still comes first, creaming them both, his dick flexing and twitching in Dean's grip, and Dean braces one slick hand on the bed and fists himself seriously, jerking fast, and Sam moans and kisses his jaw and pulls at his ass with those big hands, his fingers slipping low, dipping—and Dean jerks and spills, his belly seizing, his thighs clamping around Sam's hips, Sam's lips open and dragging wet against his throat, his fist gripping the bedspread so hard that his fingers cramp.

Sam's stroking his hips, repetitive and soft, when he's done panting. Dean swallows, shifts his weight. He's slumped on top of Sam, his face buried in Sam's shoulder. Wet between them, sliding, and he releases his dick and slips his sticky hand out, bracing on the bed enough to get some air between them. When he lifts up Sam's eyes are half-closed, but he focuses on Dean's face right away, and his hands stop their stroking and just squeeze, warm and tight. "You okay?" Sam says.

"My line," Dean says, and Sam rolls his eyes again, squeezes again. Dean sits up more but Sam doesn't let go. "C'mon, we should clean up."

Sam's eyes tighten, just barely. He sits up, keeping his grip on Dean, and Dean rocks back but doesn't tip over. He gets a hand on Sam's shoulder to keep his balance and Sam says, steady, "Don't freak. Okay?"

"Who's freaking?" Their dicks are still pressed wetly together, though Dean's basically soft, now. Sam's still plump, thick. He swallows. "C'mon, we're gonna get cemented together," he says, and Sam's mouth purses but his grip goes light, and it gives enough room that Dean can lift off, get his feet under him. Jesus, there's enough jizz on him that it's rolling down his belly—he claps a hand to it before it can drop, smearing it over his abs. "You come like a geyser, dude," he says, not really complaining, but Sam's cheeks are red when he looks back up, and he feels—shit. He doesn't know.

He goes to the bathroom. Fluorescent light, pink-painted sink. He wets one of the five-cent washrags and wipes himself up, and he's not turned on anymore so his thought is mainly that it's just gross, and that bed's going to be wrecked, and also, what is he doing. What is he doing.

Sam's hand appears, reaching around him. He jumps. In the mirror behind him, Sam's tall, looking over his shoulder. Looking at Dean, even as he wets the other rag, cleans himself up. Dean chews the inside of his lip and can't really turn away. Sam's got red marks on his shoulder, where Dean was biting him.

"Stay," Sam says. He tosses his wet rag back into the sink and settles his hands on Dean's biceps, squeezing. When he steps forward his dick presses into the small of Dean's back and his chest is warm, damp. "Tomorrow at least. We've got the room. Stay."

"You want your dick sucked again?" Dean says, and that time it is mean and he did kind of mean it to be, and Sam's eyelids dip and his jaw clenches, but he only slips his hands away from Dean's arms to his ribs, holding him. It feels… Dean shakes his head. "Sam," he says, but there's not really anything that can go after it.

A big hand slides up and over, flattening on his breastbone. "It's not just this," Sam says, meeting Dean's eyes in the mirror, and it makes Dean's cheeks go hot.

He covers Sam's hand with his. He shivers, for some reason. He says, "I should take a shower, I've been in the car all day," and Sam says, "Okay," and Dean takes a shower and Sam sits on the closed toilet, watches him through the clear curtain. Gives him a towel when he comes out. Takes his hips, when he's dry, and presses him to the tiled wall, and tips his head up, and kisses him clean.

Five in the morning, or later. There's a clean bed and Dean hasn't slept in a day. He lays down and Sam lays down with him, a few inches away until Dean relents and turns over, and Sam curls up behind him, holding on, his mouth against Dean's shoulder. There's going to be a call from Dad, at some point. Dean's going to have to meet him somewhere, because there's going to be something bad that needs killing. He can't stay. He's wired and tired, all at once.

"Sleep," Sam says, and Dean turns his head against the pillow, knows he will.

"Hey," he says, and Sam makes a quiet noise. "If you put this on your journal, maybe bloodofreptile will finally shut up about you getting laid all the time."

"His name is Dennis," Sam says, and Dean laughs, weirdly glad. Dennis. Yeah, that fits. "And this isn't going on the internet."

"Probably a good idea," Dean says, and Sam says, again, "Dude, go to sleep," and Dean tips back into Sam's warmth, and does, and it's the best sleep he's gotten in a year.

#fffr #wincest #weecest #first time #long fic #my writing #--seriously this one also went too long #but idk it felt right this way

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bichlordstories · 3 years

Text

6: Early release

Today was the day class 1A would head off to the USJ. Not class 1B.

You could feel envy crawling up your spine as you saw that Midoriya brat in a ridiculous looking costume waiting with some other unimportant kids for the buses to arrive.

As if he could feel your eyes, the boy turned to look at you before flinching in surprise and looking away.

“Heh? They get to go?” A voice beside you spoke.

You didn’t have to turn to know that it was Monoma, the class sadist. You let out a ‘tch’ and turned from class 1A and stared at the entrance of the Highschool.

“We don’t go until next week. A waste of our time if you ask me.” You said.

“Something we can both agree on.” Monoma said.

“It seems as though class 1A is getting more attention for some good heroes, like All Might. It’s crazy! We only got a visit, but he’s been around class 1A the most! What is it that they have that we don’t?” He asked mostly himself.

For once he wasn’t sadistically joyful, he was bothered. Almost as though he has some sort of anxiety.

‘So he’s not a complete psychopath.’ You thought.

“A favorite.” You answered his rhetorical question.

That favorite being the shrimp the teachers pitied enough to let in the school.

Midoriya Izuku.

Monoma turned his head and raised an eyebrow to you.

“Oh? Who would that be?” He asked, mildly interested.

“One of those kids have to be something promising to him. Or maybe a lot of them. Maybe it’s their quirks or their lack of personality. Whatever it is, it’s got him invested in this school, and it ain’t any of us.” You said.

“So... you think he visited us during the battle trials because he wanted to see what we had?” Monoma said before his eyes widened.

“But... after the trials, he just didn’t pay us much attention... (L/n), as much as I hate to admit this, you are the best out of all of us in terms of strength and speed. Was that not enough for him?” Monoma’s fist clenched at this.

You said nothing, instead closing your eyes and exhaling slowly.

“Hm. There’s nothing we can do but do better than them. While they have it easier with All Might giving them his attention and teaching them, we have to figure it out on our own. Think of this as earning something through hard work instead of being given things on a silver platter.” You said.

The blonde turned away from the class, still bothered by the fact that 1A was getting more than him and his class despite working hard on the first few days.

For once, you were both on the same page.

Entering the classroom, you both sat in your respective spots. Immediately, the foreign exchange student, pony, waved at you enthusiastically.

You glanced at her, hesitating, before nodding your head in acknowledgment.

Apparently, you came in on time, as Sekijiro came in a minute after you and Monoma. The man placed a stack of paper down and began telling the class about a pop quiz they were about to do, earning groans from the class.

“Hey, (L/n)-san!” Somebody whispered next to you.

You and a few students were done with the quiz, and your teacher wasn’t in the room at the moment. You turned your head slightly to stare at the silver-haired guy next to you.

“What do you want, Tetsutetsu?” You muttered into your fist.

“I wanted to...” he grumbled under his breathe.

“What?” You furrowed you’re eyebrows.

“...sorry about what I did.” He said with an embarrassed blush.

“For what?” You asked genuinely confused by what he meant.

“You know what I mean, when I yelled at you on the first day of school?” He whispered while covering his head with his arms and slouched over his desk.

“The first day of school.” You muttered incredulously.

That was days ago, and it made no sense to you that he apologized now. You didn’t even remember how your interactions went down.

“...It’s whatever.” You waved him off, dismissing his apology.

“H-hey! I’m trying to apologize! I know I may not be in the right but what I did wasn’t horrible!” He shot up from his desk and pointed at you.

Your eyebrows rose halfway to your hairline at this.

Did this brute not understand the meaning of an apology? And did he not hear you say that what he did didn’t matter? How this eccentric guy got into UA, you had no idea and you didn’t have enough of an imagination to think of a scenario where he got in.

“-I ain’t taking your shitty attitude, thinking your better than me-“

“Tetsutetsu, stop, you’re being loud and an idiot-“ Ibara started but was too late.

You shot your hand forward and grabbed his pointed finger before pushing it back. He immediately kneeled on the floor while letting out a surprised squeal.

“Ah, please! No please!!!!” His voice went into a high pitch while he grasped your wrist with his free hand. You gave him an irritated and disappointed look while pushing his finger back a bit more, making him press his head against his arms.

“No more, ple-“

Just then, the door opened, revealing a stone faced Sekijiro. You immediately released Tetsutetsu, believing to be in trouble, but the man didn’t acknowledge you.

“Class, follow me.” He said sternly.

The students looked at each other with concern. Kendo raised her hand before asking him what was going on. As the students got their stuff, the man stood there silently before answering her (and everyone’s) question.

“There’s been an attack.”

While you didn’t know what happened to class 1A exactly, as the details haven’t been released yet, you silently sent your regards to the class as a villain attack wasn’t something anyone would ask for or wish upon others.

You were met with greetings from the hospital staff and was led to the room where you usually pump out blood. It had windows, revealing the beautiful sky and buildings outside and was usually reserved for dying, mentally unstable and in very special cases, you. The doctors and nurses were hesitant about bringing you there, but you insisted on the room. Why? You liked feeling not trapped in a small room.

It was oddly empty save for a woman and a nurse, but that was it. You sat down at the far end away from the woman and the nurse and stared out the large window, waiting for your nurse to set up the objects used to withdraw your precious blood.

After the nurse placed the needle in your arm, she attached a bag to the other end and began the process. Time was passing by quickly for you, and you got done filling 3 bags before someone came rushing in.

“Doctor Joy needs you, Hannah. Bring one of those blood bags, now!” The male nurse said in an urgent tone and rushed out.

Hannah quickly grabbed a bag and rushed out, but not before quickly apologizing.

You didn’t bat an eye as this had happened before. This was a hospital after all, those don’t sit in cities for nothing.

You could hear hushed tones from the woman and the nurse before the nurse nodded her head and quickly walked away as if to grab something.

The whole room fell silent after the door opened and shut, leaving just you and the woman.

The said woman scanned the room and caught your eye and smiled warmly.

You felt the hair on the back of your neck raise in embarrassment and you quickly turned your head away, scowling to yourself.

“Donating blood again?” A soft voice chimed.

You side glanced the woman, who wasn’t looking at you anymore but was instead staring out the window.

“...Yeah...?” You said with caution.

You never met this woman in your life, but you were well-known in the hospital.

The woman smiled brighter at this.

“I’ve seen you a few times, even heard of how your blood saved lives. You’re quite the celebrity here.” She chuckled out the last sentence.

You grunted in response, having nothing important to say.

“You know, you remind me of my husband.” She said as an unreadable look glazed over her eyes.

“He’s not a very kind man, and I didn’t love him-“

Your eyebrows raised at this.

“-and while I still don’t love him, he has tried. Unlike him, however, you show your selflessness more through your actions. You’re even more in touch with your emotions, too.” She said before turning to you with a smile.

“I’ve seen the way you treat people here. Not like victims, weak burdens, or anything of the sort, but as people. My husband could learn a thing or two from you if I’m completely honest...” she said with amusement.

You didn’t really know what to say, just exhaled in exasperation and hit your head against the back of the plush leather seat.

“Sorry, that must have been weird to hear out of nowhere.” She said apologetically.

“...eh... not the craziest thing I heard today... my school got attacked by villains, so...”

Why did you mention that? You didn’t know, maybe to get it off your chest?

“Oh dear! I’m so sorry to hear! It must have been terrifying! Which school was it?” She asked in concern.

“It’s UA.”

“...what.” Her tone turned cold, grey eyes locked onto your (e/c) ones.

“Yeah, apparently class 1A got attacked during a school field trip.”

You didn’t think it was possible for the pale woman to get any paler. Her eyes almost seemed to bulge as tears threatened to fall from her eyes.

“...Shoto!” She cried, leaping from her chair and running to the door.

On cue, the door burst open and a bicolored kid ran in, eyes wide.

“Mother, what is it!? I heard screaming-“ the teen was embraced in a tight hug by the dainty woman, who weeped into his shoulder.

You felt awkward hearing the woman cry, having a near mental breakdown and just sat stiffly in the chair.

This was why you never talked to people.

As the two walked back to her original spot, completely forgetting you, nurse Hannah came in with an exhausted look as if she had an adrenaline rush.

“You wouldn’t believe how scared I was when this scruffy looking man came in with a smashed up face! I mean, it looked almost caved in!” She said before sitting by you and continuing to draw blood.

“That blood of yours sure does give people a boost! The man practically shot out of his bed when we managed to clean off his face. It was a good thing you came by today.”

You were mildly aware that the scarred teen and the pale woman could hear what was being said, but you didn’t care all that much.

All you wanted was to head home, sleep, eat, and train in that order.

It was 3 days after the USJ incident and it was Monday. It was as if the villain attack never happened.

You held onto the egg sandwich with your mouth while holding your backpack and checking your watch, noting that you had 5 minutes left before Sekijiro would start class.

You flinched when something hard and big thumped onto your shoulder, making you drop your egg sandwich.

You turned to yell at whoever whacked you on the shoulder before a you let out a sound no human could ever make.

The mummy-er man before you raised his eyebrows at your reaction but winced when his injured face reminded him that it was at one point fractured.

“H-Heh? Who are you???” You said while regaining your composure.

“I’m Aizawa Shouta, I’m class 1A’s teacher.” He said simply.

“Why are you covered in- oh. USJ.” You said, feeling utterly stupid.

The man sighed, closed his eyes, and smoothed his hair back with his least injured arm before opening his arms.

“I wanted to thank you.”

“Huh.”

You blinked at him and then narrowed your eyes at the strange man.

“Nani?”

“If you hadn’t donated any blood last week, I wouldn’t have gotten out of that hospital, which would have been a pain in the neck.” He said and bowed the best he could.

With that, he left you without another word, leaving you with your dirty egg sandwich and a lot of confusion.

~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) finally meets Aizawa!!!! And there will be some more in the future with these two!

Boy, do I have lots to do! Next chapter will kinda be (SPOILERS) a bonding chapter between Mc and Sekijiro.

What? They both have blood related quirks, and Mc really needs a father figure! Like, bad.

#bnha fanfiction #bnha x y/n #bnha x gender neutral reader #bnha x reader #blood sport

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coppicefics · 3 years

Photo

Masked Omens: Week Six

[Image Description: Image 1 - A simple rendition of the Masked Singer UK logo, a golden mask with colourful fragments flying off of it. The mask has a golden halo and a golden devil tail protruding from either side. Below, gold text reads ‘Masked Omens’.

Image 2 - A page from the Entertainment section of the Capital Herald, dated Saturday, 30th January 2021. Full image description and transcript below cut. End ID.]

Read the fic here!

The Capital Herald - Saturday 30th January, 2021 Entertainment, page 13

Top story (continued from facing page): -talk filming, fans and family with 'Three Card Monte' star -finished, and hotly tipped for several major awards come the season, what does Dame Angela have in the pipeline? She's tight-lipped, but the question makes her smile. “Naturally I don't want to give too much away – an actress must maintain some mystery lest the camera fall out of love with her – but I can tell you I have several options in mind, and some of them are very exciting.” But is it a question of which project to take on, or which to take on first? “Well, of course, there are no guarantees, but... yes, I imagine some of them will wait.” It's an unusual level of power for an actor to wield, but at this stage in her career Dame Angela is more than entitled to wield it. How does she feel about winning the showbiz game so spectacularly? “Oh, I feel as though I've been playing a game of my own devising, to which even I don't know the rules.” She laughs. “No, but really, I don't think I've ever thought of it as playing a game. I go up for the parts I think are interesting or challenging, and I've been fortunate enough to get them more often than not. Then, when the part is finished, I move on to the next thing I want to do. There's no strategy, not really, not on my part. Naturally, my agent might tell you something very different!” Having the right agent can certainly be the key to success in the entertainment industry, and Dame Angela has been with Derek Mette, of MetteTalent, for many years now.“More than I care to admit,” she tells me with a laugh, “Derek has been with me since the beginning, really. We're old friends, at this point – our families exchange Christmas cards every year.” Family can be a challenge for someone who's trying to keep the momentum of their career going, and Dame Angela surprised the world when she took a year out of acting to give birth to her son, Anthony.“Yes, at that time it simply wasn't done; one could have a career, or one could have a family. Especially since I was very much on my own with it all. But I was able to get back in front of the cameras quite quickly, and I wouldn't change things for the world. Becoming a mother made me a better actress, I think, because it opened up that whole range of experiences. The highs and the lows of childrearing.” In fact, Dame Angela starred alongside young Anthony in A is for Apple when he was only eight months old. He briefly followed in her footsteps after leaving school, and seemed set for similar levels of industry acclaim. But it all came to a devastating halt when he developed an addiction that led to him being discovered unconscious in his trailer on the set of The Grasswater Affair. He'd overdosed. “I don't like to talk about it,” Dame Angela says, her mouth downturned. “I found it very hard. But now, of course, he's been in recovery for many years, and he does his little plays all around the country. It's behind us, and I'd like it to stay that way.” A change of subject, then; what does she make of the rumours that she is currently performing as a costumed character on The Masked Singer UK? “On- I'm sorry, what's that?” I show her a clip on my phone. “Good heavens, no.” But isn't that exactly what she'd say if it was her? “Well, I don't know. I'd never even seen it until just now. But it all seems a little childish for my taste. I'm far too committed to my art to do light entertainment.” Time, it seems, will tell. But if Dame Angela is indeed a participant in The Masked Singer, she hides it well.There’s time for one last question, so I try to make it a good one. What, I ask, does Dame Angela consider her proudest achievement to date? “Oh, that’s a difficult question. I simply couldn’t choose... Naturally, becoming a Dame was a great honour, and not one I expected at all, which made it all the more precious. But then, the first time I won an Oscar was a real moment of pride, and one that’s never soured with time. And, of course, every award and every round of applause is a moment of pride for any actor; it means I’ve done the job, and done it well, and that it has been appreciated by the audience in front of me. What more can any actress ask for?” MARY HODGES Dame Angela Crowley’s latest film, Three Card Monte, is in cinemas from the 12th of February.

Centre right: OWAS to host ‘magic’ event Literary society’s next gala theme announced The Oscar Wilde Appreciation Society has announced the theme for its spring social event, which is to be inspired by all things magical. Famed far beyond its actual membership for its lavish balls and banquets, the society has in the past held events held together by motifs such as 'Luck', which took place in a casino, 'Snow', which included a trip to a ski slope, and 'Flight', during which all participants had the opportunity to glide above the dancers on wires. This time, the theme is 'Magic', and while details are still being kept tightly under wraps, it seems fairly certain that Aziraphale Fell, London's most celebrated stage magician and a long-time member of the Oscar Wilde Appreciation Society, will be performing at the event. When the society throws open its doors each season, it's quite possible to go all night without seeing a single regular member of the club. While the organising committee is out in full force, soliciting donations from the wealthy patrons who attend the parties, and the society president stands up to make a toast at the beginning of dinner, it's largely outsiders who descend upon the Oscar Wilde Appreciation Society's chosen venue. In fact, the scale and opulence of these events has led some to speculate that OWAS is not a literary appreciation society at all, but rather a shadowy networking opportunity for the rich and powerful. Indeed, at the 'Flight' event, it's rumoured that two world leaders met in the queue for the wire-flying and laid the foundations for a later trade deal between their nations. The society's everyday goings-on are, I'm told, far more pedestrian and literary. But - as the current president, Edwin Pearce, often says - “what's an Oscar Wilde society without a little hedonism?” There's altruism, too, however; the society makes a substantial donation to a charity chosen by the members each year. This year's charity has yet to be determined, but last year the children of the Wessex Street Hospital enjoyed a very special Christmas thanks to a £20,000 cheque from the Oscar Wilde Appreciation Society. Much of the funds required to make such lavish events and donations possible are raised at those very events, which take place once a season. Tickets for the 'Magic' event have not yet been released, but previous events' tickets have sold for anything from £200 to £2000. A limited number of reduced price tickets are generally made available, so keep an eye on the Oscar Wilde Appreciation Society's website at oscarwas.org.uk if you're looking to get in without breaking the bank. If The Amazing Mr Fell will indeed be performing at the event, it might explain his recent reduction in performances – his show has gone down from six nights a week to just four, eliminating his Wednesday and Saturday performances. Magic fans in the capital can therefore hold out hope that once preparations for his upcoming performance are over, tickets might become easier to obtain. And, of course, the 'Magic' event itself promises to be one big avocado. CITRON DEUX-CHEVAL

Centre right: Drawing back the veil again Mystic Madame reportedly plotting TV return Two years after Drawing Back the Veil with Telepathic Tracy last aired, its old Saturday night slot is set to become vacant again – and rumours abound that the show may be set to return. For the last two years, live draws have been condensed into a fifteen-minute slot on BBC One, followed by an episode of one of the longer 45-minute drama series the BBC tend to favour these days. Much of the pageantry that used to go along with the weekly draw was shifted unceremoniously onto the National Lottery's YouTube channel or website, and the delivery of the actual results became more akin to the reading of a weather report before a return to the usual programming of the channel. Now, however, the BBC has put out a press release announcing that the National Lottery will now return to a half-hour draw show, allowing for 'a little more excitement and glamour'. This, the press release suggests, could take the form of a very brief trivia game before the draw, a return to celebrities wishing everyone luck before pressing the all-important button, a chance to showcase musical acts during the show, or some combination of the above. I'm all for a return to the showbiz nature of the nation's most mainstream gambling ring, but it's the shortening of the subsequent timeslot that has my attention. Already, just a day after the BBC's announcement, speculation is rife about what – and who – might be about to fill that second half-hour time slot. Most of the shows the BBC produces these days are designed for a 45-minute or hour-long format, and producers will be understandably reluctant to try to condense comedy, gameshows or drama into such a small space – especially given the National Lottery's occasional tendency to overrun. Pre-recorded shows have come unstuck before when the Camelot machines have jammed or some other calamity has befallen the draw, most notably in 2019 when the initial episode of Season 6 of Sherlock aired without the crucial first three minutes that explained the detective's cunning escape from the previous season's climactic scrape. It's the sort of situation that calls for a steady hand and an almost supernatural ability to adjust to disaster. Who better to take on the challenge than a woman who's had years of practice? Telepathic Tracy, the Mystic Madame, is very much still working her mysterious ways despite her departure from our TV screens – notably in The New Aquarian - and what better way to follow a disappointing lotto result than with the reassurance that this week, your luck will be better, or at the very least predictable? I, for one, predict Madame Tracy's triumphant return to television - and what's more, I welcome it. EDWARD BIGGS

Advertisement, bottom left: [Image Description: A grayscale photo of a warzone, with plumes of smoke. A smiling woman walks away from the destruction; she is in full colour and has artificially-enhanced red hair. Text is overlaid, as transcribed below. End ID.] When the news breaks, my hair doesn’t. Carmine Zugiber. Be bold. Be strong. Be Vibrant. [Image Description: The word Vibrant appears in red and is in a different font, like a logo. This is the case each time it appears. End ID.] Vibrant Flame Red Bottom right: Correction In Andy Sandalphon's column on page 15 of last Saturday's paper (23rd January), he stated that folk music made by an American is Country music. Several readers got in touch to explain that this is not, in fact, the case, and we would like to set the record straight. Country, or country and western, music is a very specific type of folk music, and while often associated with American artists, it is not simply the American version of folk. Furthermore, music must fit specific criteria to be considered country, and Anathema's does not. While country music belongs to the overarching genre of folk, not all folk music is country music, regardless of the nationality of the performer. We apologise sincerely for the mistake; while every effort is made to include only accurate information, errors do occasionally slip through. We regret the misunderstanding, and hope to do better in future. If you notice an error in any of our articles, please let us know as soon as possible by emailing [email protected]. We appreciate your help to keep our newspaper as accurate and factual as possible.

[End Transcript]

#masked omens #mo week six #very much fake news #good omens fic #mine #masked singer au #overdose tw

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diabloindigo · 3 years

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Are you the person to open a box of cereal just to get the toy inside? As a kid yes. Right now, I don’t buy cereals with prizes anymore. Do they even stuff toys in cereal these days?

Do you get scared easy? If it’s in the anxiety induced variety, yes.

What was one of the stupidest things you cried over when you were little? Not sure, it could have been anything from not wanting to wear a fancy dress or dress shoes to a party or a broken toy.

Have you ever drank milk from the carton? Despite having a working dishwasher and plenty of glasses, I “waterfall” milk and juice from the containers.

Juice or milk? I go both ways, leaning more towards juice. Apple or orange.

Do you ever turn off your computer properly? Once in a while.

Do you wish you were a fish? Not really, though I kinda envy the blue Dory (Doctor Fish?) in the tank at my gynecologist’s waiting room. It likes to swim to the bottom of the tank and ride up to the top on a bubble jet. That damn fish has probably had more fun than I have in the past several months.

Who’s your favorite super hero? Invincible (Amazon Prime). Along with Spider-Man (2002) and the Big Hero 6 movie, that character/series is a rare superhero show that makes me feel strong and vulnerable at the same time.

Who’s your favorite super villain? Slade Wilson/ Deathstroke as seen in “Teen Titans: The Judas Contract” animated movie and the 2003-2006 “Teen Titans” cartoon series.

Spiderman or X-men? Spider-Man. Tobey Maguire and Peter B. Parker from Into the Spiderverse.

Movie theatre or stay at home movie night? Theaters. Alamo Drafthouse. I love ordering boozy milkshakes and finger foods.

Do you have a Blue Ray? I have one of those external drives for my Mac though I never use it.

How about HD television? Yeah

Do you think HD television is kind of a waste of money? No.

Do you get why people get so frickin’ freaked out during football season? I do not, and living in a state with a hard-on for (American) football makes it weird when I tell people that I do not have a favorite football team/player.

Do you ever sneak scraps to the dog even though you’re not suppose to? I don’t sneak him food. If I cook or order too much to eat, then I scrape a couple of cup’s worth of leftovers in his bowl. He’s probably got only a year to live so let him live it up a little.

Are you reading a book right now? If so what? A friend gave me a copy of “The Only Good Indians” but I can't get into it so I’m reading “Full Throttle” by Joe Hill.

What was the last book you were required to read for school? It’s been so long I can’t remember.

O donuts or jelly filled? Whipped cream filled. I love Krispy Kreme’s whipped cream filled donuts with raspberry filled donuts as a close second.

If I’m feeling bland then I do like crullers.

Do you like your ice-cream in a bowl or cone? Bowl unless it’s a tasty cone.

Marshmallows in your hot chocolate or no? I could go either way unless it’s a tiny cup of chocolate.

Do you like cherry coke? Hell yes. I love going to Sonic for a cherry-vanilla-lime Coke or this greasy little 1950s type burger joint for their cherry cokes since they load the cups with several cherries.

Do you really think diet Dr. Pepper is the equivalent of a cupcake? No, it tastes artificial. Like a bastard child of a soft drink that wants to pass for cherry soda.

Do you snore in your sleep? Drool? Talk? Snore and talk (I’m pretty stressed out).

Have you ever sleep walked? no

Are you a morning person? I am now.

How do you wake up in the mornings? by alarm during the work week, naturally at 6-7 on vacation days.

Do you think guyliner is hot? What is that?

Is variety the spice of life? yeah

Do you think strawberry milk is disgusting? I like it.

Have you ever drank after anyone? Like sharing a cup/bottle? Yeah, loads of times.

Have you ever drank after anyone you don’t know very well? No.

Do you have any limits on who you drink/eat after?

If we’re talking about sharing, then I will share food/drink with family and friends. If someone offers me bite-size pieces that are individually wrapped or can be torn off the main portion, I’ll eat it, but only from co-workers or acquaintances.

Would you eat a sucker if someone already ate some of it? No.

Would you chew somebody else's gum? Hell no.

Do you know anyone who’s going to die of mono because of that? No.

Do you enjoy school? My English and psychology classes.

Are you a teacher’s pet? no

Do you have a job? Yes.

How did you get to and from school? Parents drove me or I walked for elementary through high school. I drove when I went to college.

Do you have a bedtime? And if so what is it? I’m in bed between 11-12 a.m.

What time do you get up? 6 am so I can walk/exercise before the sun boils the earth in full force.

Have you ever pulled an all-nighter? Yeah in college.

What’s more important? Beauty or brains? brains

Do you believe in yourself? Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don’t.

Did you ever want to be an astronaut when you were little? No. Being a veterinarian or scientist were my highest ambitions as a small kid.

How about the president? Never.

What did you want to be when you were little? Veterinarian, scientist, cartoon character.

Did you ever want to be a super model? no

Do you believe you’re attractive enough to be a super model? No.

Have you ever had an X-ray? Several in the past few months for pre-surgery and dental work.

What’s your favorite guy’s name? What’s your favorite girl’s name? Guys’: Shane, Mark, Tadashi, Austin, Cade, Trip.

Girls’: Quince, Sienna, Amy, Kit, Lizzie (Elizabeth), Raven.

Who’s your second cousin’s, grandparent’s, sister? The fuck...

Do you laugh to yourself whenever the ketchup bottle farts? No, in fact, I get annoyed when other people hear it and ask me if I farted.

Do you have any real guns in your house? I have several.

Do you know how to use nunchucks? No, I bought a pair at one of those Asian imports emporiums, but I donated them since I never learned to use them. They were these crappy foam padded ones with dragons printed on the handles.

Do you know anyone who can use nunchucks? No.

What do you want to be next Halloween? In better health and not shitting bricks about using up my paid time off to go to doctors’ appointments.

Did you ever consider getting a job as a mall Santa? No. I’d rather be one of his elves or a reindeer.

Are you the one responsible for taking out the garbage? Yes. Grosses me the fuck out sometimes with smelly discarded poultry trays or rotten food, but somebody’s gotta do it.

Do you recycle? My city has the blue recycling bins, but I heard that since we’re an ass-backward community, “recyclables” and trash all go to the same place. I just place recyclables in the blue bin to help clear up space in the trash bin. Maybe I’m wrong and this city does recycle? Can’t hurt.

When I was 11, I’d collect empty soda cans to take to the recycling guy since back in the day, they’d pay for aluminum cans. That’s how I scraped up funds for dollar movies and hot dogs.

Are you a pyro? Yeah. I carry/collect Zippo lighters but mostly because the “click-click” is satisfying to hear since I flip the lids open and closed to relieve stress. And I burn a lot of old bills and letters with sensitive info on them.

What was the last word/thing you wrote down? I was researching high fiber foods that are also low in carbs to make a grocery and dinner meal plan.

Sleeping or eating? After my surgery, sleeping.

Are you overall a positive person? I try to be realistically positive, if such a thing exists. The world will never be all sunshine and My Little Ponies, but I try to find some comfort and positivity when my world is a shit-show. Filling this survey out kinda helps.

Do you hate hypocrites? Yeah, especially the “do as I say, not as I do” types.

For instance, a certain family member is pushing good diet and health habits, but it aggravates the hell out of me if I see him drinking high sugar iced tea or eating ice cream. Or Door-Dashing Burger King, even if it is a Beyond Whopper with a diet Coke.

Do you like to prank people? Yes, but I do benign pranks like leaving dirty riddles and meme drawings on their front doors.

What was the worst prank you’ve ever done on anyone? I tried fucking with a telesolicitor but I could not stop laughing.

Have you ever jumped on a trampoline in the ice? I don’t own a trampoline.

Have you ever ice skated? No. I tried once after a local minor league hockey game. I got the skates on, but my ankles were bending/bowing out so I changed my mind.

Ever water skiid? No.

Is vacuum spelled funny? Yes.

Democrat or republican? I don’t associate formally with either party, but I hitch my pony a little to the left.

Who’s the biggest asshole you know? My former boss circa 2013. Very unprofessional and a veritable loudmouth and a poor (shit) showman wannabe.

Pen or pencil? Gel-ink pens.

Should all paper have holes? nope

Speaking of holes. Swiss cheese, what’s the point of that? Fewer calories? Spinning slices in my hand like a TV cowboy spinning his revolver in the trigger guard with his finger?

Have you ever been in a helicopter before? No.

Own any airbrushed tshirts? Nope, not even in the nineties.

Have you ever been suspended? No.

Have you ever been in a fist fight? A few playground fights as a kid.

Ever said something to someone that you didn’t mean to say? Yes.

Do you forgive too easily? I don’t think so.

What are you listening to right now? The AC running.

Have you ever seen any of MCR’s music videos? Nope.

Are you tan? No.

Have you ever been in a tanning bed? No. I have no desire to look like a Cheeto or woo skin cancer.

Have you ever played water volley? Once at my uncle’s neighborhood swimming pool.

Ever had a sunburn? Yes, from neglecting sunscreen re-applications or underestimating the sun.

How about wind burn? It hurts….. Nah, I don't live in a cold enough climate for that.

What was the first word you learned how to say? I think it was “mama.”

#random monkey shit #survey #ask #bored #Q and A #long post

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lovemesomesurveys · 3 years

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Thought I Couldn't Top It, Huh? OVER 2000 Questions! (Truly the Longest!) Created by distortedcognition Part 10 Have you Ever... Gone on a cruise? Nope. They sound kind of fun, but the thought of being stuck out in the middle of the water, especially for so long, terrifies me. I’m sure I’d also get sick and that wouldn’t be fun either. Beaten someone up? No. Been beaten up? No. Bullied someone? No. Been bullied? No. Attempted suicide? No. Attempted murder? Jeez, no. Nearly died? Yes, twice. Broken the law? Little things that everyone did like downloading music and whatnot. Stolen something? When I was a kid I thought the candy in the big candy bins at the grocery store were free to take. They were not. Whoops.

Had an abortion? No. Known the president? Not personally. Had an affair with the president? No. Met a famous person? Yes. I’ve met Jamie Lee Curtis and Drake Bell. Gah, I can’t believe he turned out to be a perverted creep. I had such a big crush on him back in the day. Had an affair? No. Been out of the country? Yes, I went to Mexico. Out of state? Yeah, a few times. I’ve been to Arizona, Idaho, and Georgia. Out of your town? Many times. Written a poem? Yes, I dabbled with it a little as a teen. They’re suuuper cringe. A story? Yeah. I loved writing short stories when I was like 12-14. I’m sad I don’t have access to those. A novel? No. A song? I think I’ve tried before; probably during the days I was writing poetry. Gotten published? No. I never sent anything in or anything. Written a love poem? Yes. Said that you hated the world? Yeah. Finished school? Yep, yep. Flunked a grade? No.

Flunked a subject? I had to retake a math course in community college. I totally blame the professor, though, who was truly awful. She was so mean and not helpful at all.I always struggled with math, but I also always managed to get by even if just barely. When I retook the course with a different professor I passed with a B, sooo. Read a book for enjoyment? Most definitely. I’ve loved to read since I was a little kid and have read a lot of books throughout my life. I read quite a bit. Bungee jumped? Nooo. Skydived? Nooo. Danced? Yeah. Been to a dance? Yeah, I went to a few in middle school and then my high school formal and prom. Scuba dived? Nooo.

Broken a bone? Yes. Gotten a nose bleed? No. Gone to the beach? Many times. I love the beach.

Gone fishing? I tried it for a bit once. Not my thing. Gone to an island? No. Died in a dream? No. I’ve been attacked and sought after, but never actually died. Had a dream that came true? Yeah. Kissed someone in the rain? Nope. Gotten pregnant? No. Eaten calamari? I’ve tried fried calamari. Lobster? No. Helped anybody during the holidays? I’ve donated to things during the holidays. Helped a stranger? Yes. Kissed a stranger? No. Hugged a stranger? I’m not someone who just hugs everyone.

Can You... Kiss your elbow? No. Touch your nose with your tongue? No. Stick your fist in your mouth? Barely. Touch your toes? Yeah. Give away money?: I could give away some. Marry a family member? Uh, absolutely not. Hire an assassin? No! Stay up all night? Yeah, I do so all the time. Stay up for /ten/ nights? Um, no definitely not. Finish this survey? Yeah.

Swim? No. Draw well? No. I wish I had some artistic abilities. Sing well? Nope, don’t have that talent either unfortunately. Write well? I’ve been told that. Probably not anymore since I don’t do so anymore. It’s been awhile now.

Eat a box of chocolates in an hour? Definitely not. I could only have like 2. Eat an entire package of Oreos in a half an hour? Nooo. I’d have like 2-3, maybe 4. Without milk? I always have to have something to dip my cookies in. Predict the future? Nope. I don’t believe anyone can. You can try of course by studying patterns and whatnot and you might just get it right, but...

Would you Ever...

Lie to a friend? I can’t say I never have before. Lie to your parents? I have. Lie to a lover? I have. Steal from your parents? No. Hug them in public? Yes? Blow up your house? Wtf, no. Abuse someone? Nooo. What’s with these type of questions? Use someone? I hate to say I have done that before. I know how it feels and it’s really shitty. :/ Recommend this survey to a friend? To anyone on here who might be interested in taking it.

Would you ever Be... A fireman? No. Policeman? No. Serial killer? N O. Doctor? No. Surgeon? No. Prostitute? No. Playboy model? No. Writer? I used to like writing for fun when I was younger, but I’m definitely not cut out to be a writer. I wouldn’t want to make it my career. It would be too stressful and not enjoyable anymore with that pressure. Artist? I have no artistic abilities. Musician? I have no musical talents either. I’m truly talentless, ya’ll. Assassin? Nooo. Ninja? No. Soldier? No. President? No. Darth Vader? No. Pilot? No. Mortician? No. Forensic scientist? No. Detective? No. I enjoy reading and watching mysteries or playing mystery games for fun and tying to figure who did it, but I wouldn’t want to actually be a detective. Lawyer? No. Drug-dealer? No. Pirate? No. Box-carrier? No. Store clerk? Gah, I’m not cut out for retail so ideally no. I’ve heard too many horror stories. Retail workers are the real MVPS for the shit they have to deal with let me tell ya. Banker? No. Criminal? No, omg. Professional wrestler? No. Tennis player? No. Rapper? No. Country singer? No. Pop star? No. Actor? No. Plastic surgeon? No.

#personal #text #survey #surveys #over 2000 questions survey series part 10 #about me #have you ever #can you #would you ever #would you ever be #long survey

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harley-sunday · 5 years

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Things We Lost in the Fire [07]

Summary: During a bank robbery you’re surprised when the criminals seem to recognize you and retreat in fear. Only after do you learn that your high school sweetheart now runs a nationwide crime syndicate and has you placed on a “no harm” list. You decide to pay him a visit after all these years.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader (F)

Warnings: Language.

Word count: 2421

AN: This is it. This story was fun to write and almost wrote itself effortlessly. I hope you’ll like it. Please, please, please let me know what you think. ♥

Masterlist

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Detective Johansson starts, his voice lacking the emotion you weren’t expecting anyway. His eyes are trained on you, as if he’s still looking for clues. “I think you’ll be relieved to hear that Mr Hughes confessed to all the crimes we suspected him off.”

“Relieved is not-”

“We spoke to him at length on Thursday and Friday,” Johansson continues without missing a beat, effectively ignoring you, “and he gave us information that has led us to believe he was behind multiple robberies over the last fifteen years.” He clears his throat, “We also believe that the money stolen was used to pay for his treatment here.”

“Ok,” you draw out, not sure where he’s going with this. He still looks at you like you’re somehow a part of this. Which, technically, you are, but not in the way he might think.

“The investigation is still ongoing,” he pauses, his look falling somewhere over your shoulder to where you know Sebastian is, “we’re hoping to find out who his accomplices were sooner rather than later. We know Mr Hughes couldn’t have pulled this off all by himself.”

The silence that follows his statement feels rehearsed, a way to make you talk, but he should know by now you know how to keep silent. You are glad to hear Josh kept his promise and kept Seb’s team out of this. If what Sebastian has told you is true it should be almost impossible to link back to those guys. Or him.

“While I still believe you should have come to us first,” his voice interrupts your thoughts and you look up at him with what you hope is an apologetic smile, “I also believe that in the light of recent events and Mr Hughes’ confession, it wouldn’t have made much of a difference.” He holds out his hand, “You are no longer tied to this investigation.”

“Thank you,” you say as you take his hand and shake it, relieved to hear the words.

He holds on a little too long though and nods to somewhere over your shoulder, “Who’s he?”

You pull your hand back before you glance over your shoulder where you see Sebastian talking to Betty, his hands in his pockets, his demeanor relaxed, as if he has nothing to hide. You can’t help but smile when you turn back to Detective Johansson which is exactly how Josh told you to do it, “That’s Sebastian Stan. He went to high school with Josh and me.” You hesitate, looking down to add to the sentiment, “I used to have the biggest crush on him back then.”

There’s another silence then, not rehearsed this time and so you can tell it makes him a little uncomfortable.

“I should go,” Detective Johansson says then. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Detective.” You watch as he walks away, hands tucked somewhere deep in his pockets, his head held high even though his whole body screams defeat. Someone stands beside you then and an involuntary shiver runs down your spine when you catch a whiff of his cologne.

“You ok?”

You just nod.

His hand finds yours then, and he gently squeezes it, “I’ll be seeing you, dragă.”

Letting your head hang you feel his fingers slide out from in between yours and you want to tell him, “Don’t go,” but you can’t. He needs time to grieve, time to mourn the loss of his best friend, time to set part two of Josh’ plan in motion. And so you try blink away the tears that have formed in your eyes, not caring that they end up falling anyway, because you need time too.

Two weeks later you find yourself at the end of yet another tour of your house, to make sure you’re not forgetting anything. Not that there’s much left, the three boxes you wanted to take with you already shipped off to their new destination, and there have been several trips to local thrift shops already to donate books, small trinkets, and whatever else you no longer need. All that’s left inside is the furniture the house came with, some clothes, and toiletries.

You’re set to officially move in with him early August, just in time to celebrate his birthday together in your new home. To say you are counting down the days would be an understatement. Only thirty-five days left, you realize with a smile.

Your phone beeps then, letting you know you’ve received a new message, your smile growing even wider when you see it’s from him.

At the airport, almost ready to board, I’ll see you tonight, dragă.

You type a quick reply, telling him you can’t wait. As you turn around to put your phone down on the dining table your eyes fall on the picture of Josh that you’ve put up on the mantle above the fireplace, on of the few things that will stay here until you actually move out. There’s a candle next to the frame that you try to keep burning at all times, but it’s out now and so you set out to find a new one.

When you do, and you’ve placed it in the holder, you take a moment to thank Josh before you light it. You know you’ll never be able to repay him for everything he’s done, that all you can do is live the live he wanted you and Sebastian to have and enjoy every minute of it.

And that’s exactly what you plan on doing.

“Do you think it worked?”

He shrugs, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his lips when he puts his arm around you, pulling you closer to him, using his feet to softly rock the porch swing you’re both sitting on.

As you look out over the garden at the back of his mother’s house you spot the moon hanging somewhere low in the night sky. It’s still warm outside, not unusual for the end of July, and the crickets are taking full advantage, their singing almost like a soundtrack to this lovely evening.

It’s then his mother walks onto the porch, carrying a tray with three tumblers of Scotch that she carefully sets down. She hands each of you a glass before she takes her own, leaning against the railing next to you. Raising her glass, she looks at both of you with a smile, “To my son and getting to meet his new, old girlfriend.”

You can’t help but smile, holding up your own glass, “Cheers.”

“Noroc,” Sebastian says, clinking his glass against his mother's, then yours.

“I still don’t really see why we had to do this,” you admit, even though you had a lovely evening. The restaurant he chose was good, of course it was, and the conversation between the three of you flowed effortlessly, like it always did. You still wish his stepfather could have been there too, but he was away for business and couldn’t get out of the trip no matter how hard he tried.

“Backstory, dragă,” he says quite matter-of-factly. “Just like all those dates I’ve been taking you on for the last month.”

“Hmm,” you agree before taking another sip of your drink.

“It makes sense,” he continues, “at this point in our relationship for you to meet my Mom.”

“Sebastian,” his mother says then, with the Romanian pronunciation you’ve come to love so much, even though it sounds like she’s berating him. He must hear it too.

“What?” He laughs, “I know it seems,” he hesitates, “silly, for lack of a better word, but we need to do this. As far as Detective Johansson knows we just went to high school together, so it would be weird for her to just move in with me, right?”

Both his mother and you nod.

“It’s all part of Josh’ plan so that we could have a way out,” he says, taking a sip of Scotch before he continues, “we meet again at his funeral, exchange numbers, start texting each other and before you know I’ve asked her on a date.”

“That was a good date,” you muse, thinking back to the Italian place he took you, the same as where you had your first date, the whole evening basically a repeater of that time nineteen years ago. Minus the braces and the giggling on your part.

“It was,” he agrees, gently kissing your temple. “Just like the five dates we had after that, dragă.”

“But, you live on the other side of the country,” you offer, because you remember Josh’ words too. “And it’s getting serious, because on our last date you asked me to move in with you and I said yes.”

“Yup,” he agrees with a grin, “but it would me weird to move in with me without you meeting my family first, right?”

“Right.”

“So here we are.”

“Here we are,” you echo with a smile, raising your glass once again.

His mother sighs, “And all this just in case you’re still under investigation? Even though there’s nothing that indicates that you are?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian nods. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Plus, I had a wonderful time tonight,” you offer. “It was great seeing you again, Georgeta,” with a wink then, “under somewhat more normal circumstances than last time anyway.”

She laughs, “I wouldn’t be so sure about those circumstances, Fată.”

You feel yourself tear up at the use of the word for both girl and daughter and so you get up and give her a hug, whispering a quiet, “I promise to take care of him,”

EPILOGUE

“Seb?”

There’s no reply and you furrow your brows, because there’s no reason for him not to be at home. You lean in and grab your purse from the passenger’s seat, digging around for you phone to see if he’s called while you were on your way home, but there are no missed calls. Not unusual because the signal is weak once you pass Capetown anyway, even though you are in California and never really not that far from civilization.

“Seb?” you try again, edging closer to the house, the moon casting a faint glow over the hills around you. Still nothing.

“Fuck,” you mutter quietly, trying your hardest to keep your cool, not wanting to get lost in the what ifs. Still, your mind wanders, figuring that if this means his past has finally caught up with you, you’ve at least had three really good months together here on the west coast.

You fell instantly in love with the house he built for you, a project he started after he left Pawleys Island. It's a simple two-story cabin, but it's home and the view you have of the sea and the rugged coast making you feel like this is where you belong more than Savannah ever did.

Three months of living here have taught you the bottom step of the stairs leading up to the front porch creaks and so you step onto the second, trying your hardest not to make a sound. There’s a faint glow coming from inside the house and you see the front door is slightly ajar, and is that music you hear coming from inside?

Must be losing your mind, you think and shake your head, trying to gather the courage you know you’ll need to actually step inside. You take a deep breath, step onto the third step, the porch next, making it to the front door in four quick steps. There’s a small smile tugging on your lips then, because yes, there is actually music playing and you recognize the song as one of your favorites from U2. Deciding things can’t be that bad as you thought they would be you open the door, your smile growing even wider.

There’s a trail of lit candles leading from the front door, past the stairs to the living room and you have no other choice than to follow them, closing the front door with your left floor and dropping your purse at the bottom of the stairs. The candles continue through the living room towards the back of the house, where you find the french doors that lead to the terrace are open, a heart of candles waiting for you outside.

It’s there you find him, in the middle of that heart, looking ever so handsome in black jeans, and a simple grey sweater with leather patches on his shoulder, no doubt because you’ve told him countless times how much you love this look on him. He grins at you, a twinkle in his eyes when he holds out his hand and waits for you to take it.

“Seb,” you start, your voice catching somewhere in your throat.

“Ssh,” he says, taking your hand in his, “you just need to listen, dragă.”

You join him inside the heart, butterflies taking over your stomach because of course you know where this is going.

“I love you,” he says with a smile that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. “And I had this whole speech prepared, but I’m nervous as fuck, so,” he lets go of your hand and takes a small black box out of his pocket, "for now all you need to know is that I love you.”

You want to say something, tell him that you love him too, but it’s then he goes down on one knee and opens the box, “Of all the things I lost in that fire sixteen years ago, losing you was what hurt me the most. I never want to lose you again, dragă, ever." He looks up at you, tears glistening in his eyes, "Will you please spend the rest of your life with me? Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you say through your own tears, “Always yes.”

- FIN -

=====

Taglist: @blastaz | @dontbetooobvious | @weirdfanaus | @lindsaywill177 | @oliviastan17

#Sebastian Stan x reader #Sebastian Stan Imagine #Sebastian Stan fanfic #Harley Sunday x Sebastian Stan #Things We Lost in the Fire

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #366

“you can’t take me from me”

If you’re a girl, have you ever had the urge shave your hair? No. Do you live by a forest? Not anymore. :( How old are your parents? Late 50s. What do you prefer: Small cars, hybrids, trucks or SUVs? Uh, I guess normal ones? Like the ones with four doors and not that horribly low to the ground. What’s the scariest book you’ve ever read? I've never read a book that was scary to me. Do your parents drink? Dad doesn't anymore, and Mom very rarely does, usually just for special occasions. Does downloading music without paying make you feel guilty? Yes, so idk why I still do it. .-. Do you have any pet fish? Nah. What’s your favorite seafood to eat? I only like shrimp. Does your house have air conditioning? Yes. Name the creepiest horror movie character for you: Ghostface, ever since I was a kid. I was horrified of him, and I still think his design is mega creepy. How many college degrees do you want? I wanted to get at most a Bachelor's (I never saw reason to go higher in the fields I was interested in, except for my brief wildlife biologist aspiration), but now I know I'm not getting any degrees. Do you like animals? I love animals. Have you ever written anything longer than 10 pages? Yes. What do you wear to sleep? Pj pants and a tank top. How many keys do you carry with you? One. Have you ever attended a professional sporting event? Yeah. Sometimes Dad and I would go to hockey games together. I don't really care for sports, hockey included, but it was still something we bonded over since I was normally in the living room on the laptop while he was watching it. Which do you value more, intellect or work ethic? Work ethic. Both are important, but I'd rather have a dedicated, worthy employee versus a lazy one that just happens to have brains. Have you ever been covered in mud? Yes, as a kid. Ever been to a cabin on a mountain? No, but omG I fucking wish. Ever lost your voice? Yes. Do you take your time when making an important decision? I take way too much time because I obsess over doing the right thing. Are you a cautious person? Very. Do you chew gum? Sometimes. What makeup product do you never use? A lot, really. Bronzer is literally never, I haven't touched blush in forever, and the same goes for foundation. Have you ever been offered drugs on the street? No. Have you ever seen a jellyfish? Only at aquariums. Do you ever put bread in your soup? UGH, NO. Bread should NOT be soggy. Do you want some soup? No, I don't even really like soup. Is there anything in the USB key slots in your computer/laptop? Yeah, the sensor thing for my wireless mouse. Did anyone ever draw on your face when you were sleeping? I don't believe so; I'd certainly feel it and wake up. Have you ever done that to someone else? Pretty sure no. Is there any TV show you watch religiously? No. Do you like the window seat or aisle seat on an airplane? WINDOW. I hate the aisle seat, mainly because I get dizzy when I can't see outside for some reason? I really don't know how that works, but when I sit at the window and can see what the plane is doing, I don't get dizzy. I also really want to just stare outside as I listen to my iPod. Has anyone ever really insulted you? Yes. Do you ever make banana sandwiches? I have a peanut butter and banana sandwich rarely. What’s your favorite movie soundtrack? Probably Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron. Phil went HARD, y'all. Did your parents teach you how to cook/bake when you were growing up? There were rare occasions where I helped cook, but I never really learned. If you could own any three fictional objects from any book/movie/show, what would you choose? (does not have to all be from the same book/movie/show) Ohhh, interesting. I'm going to include games in this, because that's what I'm most informed in. ... And I'm still blanking. OH! Definitely a Dreamvisitor from Wings of Fire, as I think it'd be pretty cool or even useful to see into other's dreams and even communicate. The Obsidian Mirror from the same series would also be pretty cool, but also seems somewhat immoral to me, I guess, to be able to spy on others. I mean it could be useful in some cases, but still. I somehow can't think of a third one, even after expanding my options to games. A lot of game objects are just too specific to their fantasy universe and not helpful in real life. What’s the shortest amount of time you’ve worked somewhere? Not even two hours lmaoooo. Have you ever negotiated a pay raise? No. Have you ever been a victim of identity theft? No. Do you know anyone who’s had their kids taken by Child Protective Services? No. What is your favorite smell/scent? Cinnamon rolls. How long can you run without stopping? I honestly don't think I *could* run without my knees immediately being like "um excuse the fuck out of you" and crumpling. What age do you want to live to? I know this varies from person to person, so I can't say an exact age, but I do. NOT. Want to live to where I'm a liability/require other people to take care of me, like give me a bath and stuff. No. Fuck-ing. Thank you. If you had a time machine, when would you go to? I'd honestly want a glimpse into my future, just to see how I'll be. At the same time though, I feel like knowing would suck if I saw something bad instead of a good life. Like, I'd possibly be suicidal again if it's just crap. I feel like if I was legitimately offered this, I would say no. Have you ever been infatuated with someone and you didn’t even know why? No. I think. Have you ever felt an earthquake? No. Is your more photogenic side your left or right? Well, because of how my hair is positioned, my left side. My hair is parted very far to the left, so the right side of my face is sorta cut diagonally by hair. Do you currently owe money to anyone? No. If you were ever to be on the news, what would you want it to be for? Something heroic, I guess. What’s the fastest you’ve ever driven? Accidentally, probably up to like 80 on the highway. Have you ever donated blood? Have you ever done a blood test? I have to both. Have you been inside of a burning building? What happened? Z O I N K S no. Do you believe in astrology/horoscopes? Nope. Have you ever dined alone at a restaurant? No. Have you been in a car accident? What happened? Yes. Some idiot was carrying wood in the back of his truck, and it wasn't secured whatsoever. He hit a bumpy spot, and some of the wood dropped to the road, and he began to swerve out of control. Nailed the side and bumper of my mom's car. Mom drove into a ditch, but in some manner to avoid us flipping over, which judging from the impact point, cops theorized was "supposed" to happen. Nowadays I am terrified to ride or drive behind trucks carrying anything in the back. Have you ever lived alone? No. Have you ever been stung by a bee? Once, on my leg. Have you ever bought stuff at a thrift store? Yeah, I love thrift shops. What was your very first email address? The one I still use now, so I won't share it. It fits me well, but I still hate sharing it, haha. It's just not very "adult-ish." How often do you take naps? Just about every day. Have you ever won a game of pool? Idr. Have you ever seen a tornado in real life? NOOOOOOOOOOO. Have you been in a long-distance relationship? Yes. Have you swam in the ocean? Yeah, I love it. Have you gone ziplining? No, but it'd be cool! Have you been rock climbing? No, just those mock walls at school field days and stuff. Have you hitchhiked? No. Have you had stitches? Where? My chin and then at the very base of my spine. Have you ridden in a taxi? What about an Uber/Lyft? None of those. Have you ridden on a horse? Not legit, but at childhood festivals where there are some horses that walk in a circle... the poor things. I would LOVE to ride a non-restrained, tame horse. Ugh, I wish I could have a horse in general. Their ability to bond with humans is magical. I'll never actually have one, though. I could nooot do all the care they require, and I don't plan on living somewhere where having a horse is appropriate. Have you taken part in a protest? What for? No, just boycotting. Have you ever signed a petition? Yes. I can't remember all of them. Have you ever been fired from a job? Why? No. Have you ever given someone else a haircut? No. What is the longest your hair has been? Just past the small of my back. Have you ever been stranded because your car broke down? No. Thank god for phones, lol. Have you performed on stage? What did you do? Yes, for school band concerts as well as dance recitals. Have you ever used a tanning bed? What about tanning spray? No. How do you prefer to celebrate your birthday? Just quiet and chill with my family, but still give me alone time, please. Who is the best cook that you know? /shrug Do you believe in Bigfoot? What about the Loch Ness Monster? The Loch Ness Monster I don't, but I find surviving sasquatches very possible. There's just too many reported sightings to be totally ignored. I'm not 100% on them still being around, though. I feel like we would've caught one by now. Do your friends tend to be male or female? Female. If you could change anything about human nature, what would it be? Our proclivity to violence when angered. Have you ever fainted? Yes. What skills would you like to learn? Cooking, how to handle money in various contexts, social skills... There's a lot of things. What animal do you have the most possessions *of*, or featuring? Meerkats, for sure. If you smoke marijuana, what is your preferred or typical method? I don’t. Do you remain friends with anyone you met at your first job? No. Are there any flowers planted outside your house? No. Do you have a favourite outfit that you like to wear for nights out? I don't have "nights out." When you have a soft drink, do you prefer it in a bottle or can? I like cans because the metal helps it stay cold. Who was the last person to embarrass you? What did they do? I don't know. When you’re upset, do you tend to comfort eat or lose your appetite? I am a BAD comfort eater. Who was the last person to send you a message on Facebook? Does/did that person go to the same school as you? My online friend Sammy. No. Has a stranger ever offered to buy you a drink? No. When was the last time you used a public toilet? Ummm I think for my birthday lunch at The Cheesecake Factory. Who did you have your first kiss with? Do you remember what colour his/her eyes were? Jason has brown eyes. Are there any themes from TV shows that you like to sing along to? That '70s Show and especially Supernatural.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''voices'' by motionless in white

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galenfm · 4 years

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·ﾟ☀ i am already so tired of myself and i have class soon aGAIN ........ ugh well again , i am teddy , a she / her pronoun user and current mun to two muses in this delightful shining star of a group ! i now present galen , my newest gaming gf creation who just wants everyone to fucking include each other ! my preferred plotting method is via discord over at 𝐤𝐲𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫 !#6439 , i’ll make a plotting call there and i’ll reach out to everyone who likes this !

* read all about galen sorenson , otherwise affectionately nicknamed the champ. the twenty - one year old gamer and blossoming actress is widely known for being uninhibited, magnanimous, self - deprecating, capricious and recently made headlines when they allegedly dropped a sponsor due to their support of autism speaks . apparently judas claims to be sitting on an even bigger story involving them - whatever the truth may be, i'm sure it won't stay hidden for long. & a screaming laugh following a jumpscare waking the whole house , overthinking an interaction hours after it’s passed , a childhood spent begging to be read the ugly duckling and lingering on every word , neurodiversity stickers pasted all over a gaming pc. ◜ ⭒ ic: alisha boe. cis woman. she / her.

BIO : mohammed and karina sorenson have never been a conventional pair . to start , they meet when he , the biggest male model of the 80′s , is hired to walk for her winter collection , being one of europe’s top knitwear designers who never seems to go out of style . he’s eccentric and as magnetic as can be , she’s demure and has never said a word regarding anything but her work . they don’t make sense , but they’re married two years in secret before finally making their relationship known . mohammed , progressive and independent minded despite his traditional somali family , takes her last name and relocates to norway , where karina gives birth to a stunning baby girl that steals the hearts of the eu as the tabloids go crazy over her .

elissa is nearly 18 when her mother has the news to shock a nation : she’s miraculously pregnant , once more , far enough along that she intends to keep the baby despite both her and mohammed being into their 40′s . karina , having named their first baby , gives the reigns over to mo for their second child , but isn’t too happy with his pick

galen literally translates to mad , to incorrect , she argues , elissa firmly on her side

it gives her a chance to choose her own path . it gives her something to make for herself , mohammed counters , and that ends that .

galen is born in olso and is every bit as precious as her sister , now old enough to even potentially be her mother . her parents , busy with their ventures but over the moon to have a new baby in the house , raise her for her first few years in a small norwegian town to shield her from the prying eyes of the public

mohammed is first to notice that she doesn’t respond to her name or seem interested in looking at him , keeping her focus on whatever toy catches her eye for the day . he and karina write it off when she doesn’t hit her talking milestones or hold crayons the way other toddlers do , or figure she’s just an introvert when her preschool teacher mentions she doesn’t enjoy playing with the other kids during free time

they can’t ignore it any longer when she hits grade school , instantly falling behind with the rigorous private school pace and eventually warranting a visit from the school psychologist . she remembers the worry that paints her parents weathered faces when , at six years old , she’s given a laundry list of diagnoses and recommended for “ alternate ” schooling

something about the way her teachers treat her , so broken and unworthy of respect , makes her shut down , regressing with any progress she had shown and really refusing to cooperate with most adults she comes by . elissa is a budding starlet taking weekends off from film roles to spend time with her little sister , knowing that behind the quiet dark eyes of the child who wouldn’t look at you was a bright mind teeming with unsaid thoughts

her parents go to all ends to hire her private tutors and special therapists , which help her keep up at grade level . she’s in middle school when her science teacher , noting galen’s aptitude on exams and incredible recall , says she may fare better in an american school , recommending one he knows will accept a prestigious line such as the sorensons .

she moves to pennsylvania at 12 and the change is hard . she again regresses and suffers at the hands of her peers at the private catholic school she attends , her parents reaching a level of despair thinking they’ve failed their daughter , unable to get her the help she deserves despite their best attempts . galen , sick of being deemed the broken doll , seeks out an escape from the world to try and give her some reprieve from the constant pity she wishes she could express is only doing more harm than good

she likes makeup but sucks at it , enjoys art but can’t seem to draw for the life of her . she knows she’s tone deaf as all hell and doesn’t like sweating enough to be willing to dance . for once in her life , despite all the years of trying to ignore the well - meaning comments of those around her , galen starts to believe maybe there is something wrong about her .

it’s elissa’s celeb boyfriend who buys her an xbox for christmas , figuring the two could play it as a bonding experience . brimming with quiet gratitude , galen spends hours on the damn thing in between study sessions . tutors notice an improvement in focus , more motivation to work and get things done so she can finally hop back onto the console and escape into a fantasy .

she begs her parents to let her do homeschooling for her high school years , to which they agree and she thrives . she upgrades now to a gaming pc and plays through everything she can get her hands on . people on her teams don’t know her , and they don’t treat her any differently than anyone else , so before long she’s unlocking a bubblier side to herself that just feels content .

she records her playthroughs in silence ( she’s gaining confidence , but still shy , and god knows how the internet treats female gamers ) and uploads them to youtube under a stupid channel name with only a few hundred subscribers . noting the accuracy and speed with which galen destroys shooter games , someone suggests she try overwatch .

galen is hooked in an instant . she plays matches in between daily activities and quickly climbs ranks to becoming a force to be reckoned with in the competitive community . after finding a team where she feels particularly at - home , they launch to stardom due to their sweeping wins and incredible cohesion . galen becomes something of an overnight sensation , quiet and unassuming , and this recognition feels like the validation she’s been seeking for herself this whole time

she blossoms and cements her legacy as an overwatch competitive titan by the time she graduates , reaching grandmaster status and being known throughout the community for her strategy and technique . her youtube channel grows exponentially , and after realizing this is a viable future for herself , galen posts her playthroughs with her commentary and finds that people love what she does . she moves to new york in order to collaborate with other big gamers , and on her channel , she does a combination of horror games , overwatch trainings , and new release reviews and builds a following similar to markiplier or jackseptic eye , with a second vlog channel to document when she goes off to tournaments or simple things from her days

she’s 19 when her repeated wins get the attention of a massive gaming studio who invite her to come record some lines as an easter egg of sorts for her fans in a new game they’re developing . her work is met with rave reviews and suddenly game titans are nearly breaking down her door for more voice acting work . galen , who’s always felt like the ugly duckling compared to her sister’s perfect legacy , takes this opportunity to emulate her sister’s career , and nearly doubles over when a film studio approaches her with interest of casting her as a supporting role in a project of theirs . though she’s never pictured herself to be in front of a camera quite like that , with some coaching , galen nails it , and finds the high of acting catapults her from relative fame into newfound stardom .

she’s one of the newer members of the brat pack considering her youtube fame was more inconspicuous than her film work , though she still is adjusting to life in the limelight . she stays close to her roots and continues to post regularly to her channel and streams on twitch , collaborating with other increasingly big names to gain her more views .

galen’s most notable push since rising to fame has been her advocacy for neurodiversity and recognition for how poorly people with learning disabilities are treated in society . she doesn’t go in detail with her diagnoses but she does make jokes about them on her stream in order to normalize their mentions . she recently dropped a sponsor for their support of autism speaks and donates a majority of her merch revenue and tournament winnings to advocacy causes . she’s proud of who she is and hopes the future can be shaped into what kids like her needed when they were growing up .

galen lives up to her father’s prediction this whole time and changes her channel’s name to galengaming , proud to tout the moniker that spurred her to create a path she wanted rather than be told who to be by the world around her .

PERSONALITY : galen has an energy about her that is like the sun hidden behind a cloud . upon first impressions , she’s a bit more timorous and nervous as she gets her footing of wherever she may be , especially with some of the more public - eye type settings she’s been put in since sort of being sucked into the brat pack . she wants to make sure she’s acting appropriately for whatever the situation calls and may often seem tense or apprehensive .

once she’s loosened up or seen a familiar face she can latch onto , she blossoms into a ball of unfiltered energy . she loves humor and memes and can often be found competitively launching memes she’s found into her team’s group discord server . she’s witty and often makes herself the butt of her own jokes in order to lighten the mood , though she’ll be sure to clarify that she loves herself and only does so to keep herself humble lmao .

her playthroughs are VERY stream of consciousness but its this lack of filter that seems to be her fans’ favorite thing about her , a willingness to say whatever unhinged thing she may be thinking followed by a shrieking scream after a jumpscare or a string of screeching expletives after missing a goal

she can perhaps sometimes be too unfiltered and unwittingly come across as harsh or blunt , though she’ll often realize this after the fact and feel incredibly remorseful . galen has a habit to overthink and will panic for the rest of the night if she fears she’s inadvertently offended you , but won’t apologize due to being too nervous to figure out exactly how to do so ssksksks

one of galen’s most notable qualities is her heart , her benevolence and empathy that lead her to want everyone to feel included regardless of how different they may be . though she tries to give everyone a chance , there’s a fair amount of people perhaps too materialistic for her to get along with , and her polite way to ignore them is simply keeping her distance and pretending to not know them

which . in her own way . comes across as shady sksksk “oh you know so and so ? ” omg no i dont haha who are they “ u literally met them last night ” hahaha no i didnt x

she can be prone to mood swings simply due to a sensitivity to her own feelings and a tendency to overthink . she’ll wonder why she feels weird and even if it’s just because she’s hungry she’ll assume it’s because she said “thanks you too” when the cashier told her to enjoy her meal and then she has to sulk and play animal crossing alone in the dark for an hour before she can come out and be chill again even tho she feels worse than when she started bc shes just HUNGRY ASKSKKS

she’s used to being infantilized so she tends to be sort of short tempered if people talk down to her . this is when the wit kicks in as she is really just tired of being treated poorly by people who don’t even know her and has decided she will refuse to take any more shit ! can be a bit snippy even without realizing it but if she’s close to you she’ll usually be like “ oh my god that was rude as fuck im so sorry ” and feel bad for 20 minutes even after you say its okay lmaoo

random blurbs : um DONT ask me who she plays in her overwatch tournaments bc im using opossum and wikipedia to figure shit out as i goes , but i know for sure she calls out a lot of misogyny in the gaming world on social media !

always has her switch with her i KNOW this for a fact

anime nerd ....... nobody call her out on it she will deny until she is blue in the face and then hum the one punch man intro in her streams as if hundreds of thousands of people arent witnesses LMAO

this is so stereotypical nerd but she hates the outdoors ! says the US is so dirty and stuffy she says scandanavia is the only place she’ll ever like to be outside , she slips into norwegian when she’s recording if she gets jumpscared so she doesnt get demonetized for over - swearing lmao

also speaks french because she picked it up from her mom ! her dad usually only spoke english or norwegian , so galen didn’t get to pick up on much somali or arabic but she def knows at least a few words here and there

she vlogs a good amount of her life but she’s kinda shy about talking about who she’s dating , will probably try to keep her romantic life to herself !

excited as all hell to get into acting but the super fame that’s coming with it kinda freaks her out . she knows it’s a trade off bc she loves the feeling it gives her but hates how people are now overstepping a lot of boundaries that they didn’t before when she was just a popular youtuber

inspos are juno from the iconic movie juno , toph beifong from atla , louis theroux YES THE DOCUMENTARY GUY LEAF ME AL ONE , & amy from booksmart !

#cross.start #* ◞ 𝐢 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝖈𝖚𝖙 𝒕𝒐 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 . ❪ 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 : INTRO .#❪ yes her tags are carly rae jep/sen lyrics and hall and oates songs respectively #no i will not apologize or stop hyping EITHER of those musical geniuses up

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imagine-loki · 5 years

Text

A Quick Way Home

TITLE: A Quick Way Home

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 1/3

AUTHOR: brightsun-and-darkmidnight

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: When Loki learns that you try to be home as soon as you can because of your child, he volunteers to teleport you there. It is convenient and you don’t doubt his motivation, but it happens so often that you need to ask why? Loki hesitantly tells you that he just likes to see some good parenting.

RATING: T

NOTES/WARNINGS: Single mom.

AUTHOR’S NOTES: Kaytlyn is a single mom who puts her child first… Loki takes interest in her parenting skills and insists on getting her home earlier. Her son, Jeremy ends up sick and she needs to leave work while an important meeting is happening in a few minutes. Making Loki’s reputation better IS Kaytlyn’s job, meaning it is… Challenging.

My Ao3: brightsun_and_darkmidnight

~ ~ ENJOY ~ ~

Kaytlyn pursed her lips together and tried desperately to keep the tears in her eyes. She needed to look good because she had a press conference for her boss to get through in the next 17 minutes. The damn meeting was agreed to 30 minutes of questions. Her lip trembled as she breathed in for 5 seconds and then out for another 5. Deep breathing belly exercises she learned in baby yoga.

Oh her baby… poor Jeremy needed her.

He was in the school’s nurse room with a fever and was getting sick. The babysitter was busy with her other job. Kaytlyn’s best friend, Jack, was away on vacation and would not be available for the next 3 days. She had to go… she wished she never needed to work and could just keep her little baby boy safe in her arms, watching his favorite learning TV shows with the annoying but catchy theme songs.

A knock at the door and there was her boss.

“Trouble with Jeremy.”

She nodded not meeting his eyes, “Loki. I’m sorry… My son is really sick. I just got the call that he is the nurse’s office.”

Loki smiled, “It’s alright. We can cancel.” Kaytlyn thanked him and grabbed her stuff. Loki chuckled, “you know I was never looking forward to that conference anyway.”

She ignored his excitement, “Thank you so much. I will do as much as I can from home.” Kaytlyn made sure to grab her work tablet and put it in her large purse. “I will call to reschedule the meeting on my way to Jeremy’s school.”

“Do not worry. I can do it.”

Kaytlyn was finished gathering her things and moved towards the door. She gave Loki a stern smile, “I will handle it. Last time it did not go well.”

“No fault of your own.” Loki smiled down at her as she passed him and locked her office.

“You swore to call yourself last time. Then did not and got completely bashed on the news. Which, is the opposite of my job.”

“I mean really, does anyone really need another mall where something more important could go?”

Kaytlyn kept walking through the building, “I really understand Loki, I do, it is just a common place for youth to hangout. That was the purpose.”

Loki chimed, “A place that actually encourages theft among youth. What about an arcade? Hhmm? Or a building where children can earn a type of currency to get snacks or prizes?”

Kaytlyn smiled at him, “your ideas are getting better. Positive. Keep it up and your reviews will go up. However, you need to voice such ideas sooner.” Kaytlyn reached the lobby and paused, expecting to part ways. She noticed him continue to walk, “you stay here. Loki! You have too much to do here.” She followed him out with rushed strides and clicking of her heels.

Loki gave her a serious look as he flagged down a cab, “you expect me to let you go by yourself and for me not to know for future reference where Jeremy’s school is. Valhalla forbid he gets sick again.”

Kaytlyn threw her hands in the air with an exasperated sigh as Loki held the door for her. Ever since she started as Loki’s press coordinator, she swore it was business. She was trying so hard to keep it business, but the way he inquired more information about her child through noticing new pictures or drawings decorating her desk? It was impossible not to fall for a man that cared for her child. Loki found out Kaytlyn walked a mile back and forth to work, just to be able to save extra money for Jeremy’s needs and wants.

Loki needed help starting up his image, in a positive light, there was one day where she insisted on doing extra work. She remembered how tired she was, getting her pepper spray out of her bag before saying goodbye. Loki insisted on walking her home and the next day it started. He was invested into making sure she got home to Jeremy quicker. He would teleport with her to her doorstep, as soon as she clocked out of work. He would sometimes go inside to the livingroom to see Jeremy, however that was a very rare occasion. The visit would be short and then he would leave.

Business. Strictly business.

Was it though? He has been inside her house for unrelated work things. All for the purpose of getting her home but the conversations were friendly, happy…all around joyful. If only everyone could see that, too see Loki in her apartment discussing a child’s favorite toy. HER child’s favorite toy.

She pushed those thoughts down as she had to keep apologizing to the reporter for having to cancel on such short notice. She did her 5 second inhale and exhale as the person yelled.

Loki’s smile as soon as she rescheduled the appointment with the press about the meeting concerning Loki’s latest mission. Oh that smile made her forget the word, “professional.” She would love for Loki to be hers, but she couldn’t. She could not sign Loki up for parenthood. Especially, considering Jeremy’s father left at the first contemplation of pregnancy. That ass of a man did not wait for even a store bought piss test.

His gentle fingers pushed her hair behind an ear. The way Loki looked at Kaytlyn after he always did such an action.. butterflies. She grabbed his hand and put it back near his side. She would do her best to fight the urge to keep his hand in hers. To let go and keep their relationship business. His hands were unbelievably soft and pleasant to hold.

She gave him the look. The serious look with angled eyes.

Damn him. That knowing smirk. It was like he knew. Kaytlyn swore he knew.

She could only think, **Business, this is your job. He is just being friendly.**

The cab pulled into the school’s parking lot and she rushed to get the money. Loki held her hand to keep her wallet in her purse as he handed the driver plenty of money. Kaytlyn took her hands away and hurried out of the car to the front door of the school.

The woman at the checkpoint asked, “Hello, Mrs. Carter. Are you planning on donating treats again for the PTA meeting?” Kaytlyn looked up, another mother from Jeremy’s basketball team.

“Hello Elizabeth. Yes. Jeremy is really excited to help.” Kaytlyn hurried to put her things in the basket. When Kaytlyn turned to get her stuff Loki was putting his own things in a basket. The other mom eyed Loki and smiled at Kaytlyn.

**What in hell is he doing?**

Kaytlyn hurried and signed in at the desk. Took long strides to the nurse’s office to hear Jeremy mumble his tummy hurt. He was wrapped in a blanket and laying down.

“Mrs. Carter, I gave him some Tylenol to help with the fever and aches. I believe it is the stomach flu.”

“Thank you. I will call the Dr. And get him in.” Kaytlyn went to her baby and felt his forehead, it was a little warm. “Common sweet bean. Let’s get you feeling better.”

“Are you going to make your special soup?”

“Ofcourse.”

Jeremy sat up and saw Loki in the lobby of the nurse area. Jeremy was excited to see Loki and begged for Loki to stay for dinner to have moomie’s feel better soup. Loki met her eyes asking for permission before answering.

Kaytlyn combed fingers through his hair, “Jeremy… Loki has work to do.”

“Are we going to the doctor because Loki could know where that is too…”

Kaytlyn’s mouth opened but nothing came out. Her little boy was quick witted, especially when he had a plan. He better not even THINK about trying to set her up.

Loki looked around the room and spoke nonchalantly, “He has a point.”

Kaytlyn pursed her lips and sighed, “sure.”

Jeremy was excited and then grabbed his tummy. When he got too excited he would get nauseous and the stupid flu was not helping. The nurse offered some nausea medication and Jeremy accepted quickly, but politely. Kaytlyn took Jeremy’s hand and checked out at the desk. Everyone wished for him to get well soon.

Kaytlyn realized Loki requested a car to pick the three of them up while he was left alone in the nurse’s station. Jeremy sat between them and cuddled up to Kaytlyn while she brushed his hair with fingers. The Dr. Confirmed it was the common stomach flu and recommended some over counter medications that, Kaytlyn was glad to already have.

In the comfort of her home, she bundled Jeremy in blankets on the couch with his favorite movie. She went to the kitchen and started to boil the chicken, make dough for noodles, cut carrots and celery. She was stirring the soup around and then tasted it with a spoon. It might be the best chicken noodle she ever made. Putting the heat to low she turned towards the person entering the kitchen.

“Jeremy requested a drink.”

Kaytlyn got a bottle of water and a small glass of ginger ale. She walked with Loki following and sat beside Jeremy, “sip them. Don’t drink too fast.”

“Thanks Moomie.”

“You are welcome Sweetheart. How do you feel?”

“Better. Soup smells good..”

“Soup is almost done. I’m going to go get the crackers and finish up with the chicken and rice too.”

The TV show was on again from a commercial and Jeremy’s attention was lost to her. She smiled with a shake of her head and went back to the kitchen. Set the table, placed bowls with soup. Set the chicken and rice on the table to be grabbed if anyone wanted it. The jar with the sweet and sour sauce for a little flavor, if Loki desired it. Water glasses filled and the tea kettle just started whistling.

Jeremy was heard sitting at the table and Loki met Kaytlyn in the kitchen to make his own tea. She carried Jeremy’s mug in with her own. Loki carried his own mug and the crackers. Dinner was nice… Jeremy talked most of the time about school classes, events, friends, and the PTA cookies.

“You should help Loki. Mumm makes everything fun.”

Then Loki asked seriously about the types of things Kaytlyn could make. It was a playful interview between a dark haired mischievous God and a little boy sharing too much information. By the end of the conversation Loki practically knew the family recipes.

“Mumm let’s me help with everything. She’s cool like that.” Jeremy took another slurp of soup straight from the bowl, despite Kaytlyn warning him about manners.

Loki sat back dabbing his mouth with a napkin, “Yes she seems very cool.”

Kaytlyn thanked the gentlemen for the compliments and told Jeremy to go get ready for a shower. With a little protest he went. Kaytlyn gathered the dishes and Loki helped clean off the table. He seemed unsure what to do and Kaytlyn enjoyed seeing Loki lost for once. He was always so sure about everything. Carefree with how laid back and knowledgeable he was. In the kitchen? He moved dishes around a few times then stared at them before leaving them on the counter beside the sink.

She wiped the table off once cleared, and tried to stay busy trying to hide her uncomfortable feeling from creeping onto her face. What should she do, how should she say goodbye? Now SHE was out of her element. She hasn’t had anyone over for dinner other than her best friend and family for the holidays. Those were loving hugs and wishes to have a repeat to catch up.

Jeremy was out of the shower, in his pajamas and it was 20 minutes till his bedtime. That little shit though… He always fought tooth and nail to go to bed, but tonight he forced a yawn, hugged her and said goodnight. He waved to Loki with a big smile as he said,

“You should eat with us again. Night Loki!” Jeremy walked down the hallway and did a forced stretch…

That little boy was going to get a talking too.

Loki looked at the clock with lips that threatened to smile, “Well.. I suppose it is late. I should get going.”

Kaytlyn watched as Loki gathered his jacket and went to the door. For some stupid reason she followed him to the door. She was looking everywhere but him. Those soft fingers pushing her bangs behind her ear. It felt so different this time, but why?

“Thank you for dinner. Perhaps once the little one feels better we all could go for dinner?”

Kaytlyn swallowed as she pushed his hand to his side, “that’s not professional.”

Loki laughed quietly, “I was in your home. For dinner you made. And I escort you home everyday.” Those fingers were back on her cheek. “I do not care for professionalism anymore.”

Kaytlyn’s mind was racing. **I can’t. This is work. It is my job was to improve his image. I need a good image for future clients. NOT a reputation to date my clients. But he is so good with Jeremy… ooh that boy was in trouble to put me in a situation like this.**

Kaytlyn turned her head, “Loki I can't… I really need this job. I need to be professional. ”

“You can still have it. I care for you, and Jeremy. Let me take you both out to eat. I promise you will both have a good time.”

With those fingers under her chin, she could not look away. Her eyebrows were angled up and eyes wide. She felt vulnerable. She has always wanted someone -For a father figure to her son and a lover for herself. Ever since her body changed due to the pregnancy, she did not want anyone seeing it. Then HIM.

Dreamy… Dark hair, emerald eyes, tall, strong, fatherly. -A literal dream man.

Her boss.

Loki whispered something but Kaytlyn was not focusing on anything other than his eyes. His eyes crinkled shut as he laughed.

Kaytlyn was pulled out of her mind in embarrassment. “What?”

Those fingers pushed hair back and then cupped her cheek again, “I asked if I could kiss you.”

“Umm..” Kaytlyn was struggling with words her mind short circuited. This was the first time she did not have anything to say to him, leaving her mind to scramble back together. The pieces would not go back in the right places and she felt her ears on fire with embarrassment.

“Too soon?” That teasing smile, “let’s see how our date goes first then.” Fingers barely touching her till they disappeared. “Let me know when you are coming back to work. I will keep in touch about that date though.” He winked at her then turned towards the door.

Kaytlyn opened the door for him and cursed how quiet her voice was as she said goodbye. She turned and leaned against the door after locking it. She caught a glimpse of golden brown hair and dark green eyes peeking around the corner.

“Jeremy… get to bed.”

#Loki #Lover #God of Mischief #Father #Submitted fic #submission #A Quick Way Home #brightsun-and-darkmidnight #chapter 1

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