#it's so weird drawing him in blue. usually he wears warm colors only

[psygull-arts]

guy who wants his work to have some kind of higher purpose takes a job where he can never know what he's doing

(obligatory song link)

[buckybarnesdiaries]

wakanda

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Steve gives you Bucky's dog tags for a reason.

word count: 2.4k (lol, sorry)

warnings/tags: none. bucky being a cutie.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

“Welcome to Wakanda, agent (Y/N)”.

A second after you crossed their airspace, you were courteously greeted. The views from your ship were indescribable. Peace invaded you just at the sight of the open fields and the warm colors of autumn. You could get used to that place too. To live in calm, work hand-to-hand with Shuri, and have time to spend it with Bucky. The reason why you were flying there. Removing your right hand from the control and grabbing in a fist the dog tags hanging on your chest, you took a deep breath while closing your eyes before getting ready to land. T’Challa was waiting for you at the entry of his kingdom, accompanied by his excited little sister and some of his guards.

Pressing a sequence of buttons above your head, to pull the control back, the ship went down slowly folding its wings. As you landed and turned off the engineers, you freed yourself from the seatbelt and the huge headphones to step out. Shuri received you with a friendly hug, breaking protocol and being just Shuri. You built a strong relationship since you met a year ago, when you brought Bucky to that beautiful and magical place, to let him recover. To let him rest.

“Your highness”. You uttered to T’Challa crossing your forearms in the traditional salutation of Wakanda.

“Agent (Y/N)”. He corresponded walking closer. “The white wolf asked me to let you know he wouldn’t want to be… bothered with visits today”.

You couldn’t help but frown. The last time you saw him was around three months ago. You usually interchanged letters from week to week, being one of the fewer persons he trusted in. And it wasn’t just a question of trust. Steve told you about his feelings, his shyness, and insecurities, his fears. What Bucky didn’t know, again, it wasn’t a question of trust from you either. That’s why the Captain gave you the dog tags, after more than thirteen years under custody. You wanted to see him, to know if he was happy there as he wrote you in his letters one million times.

“He doesn’t wear his arm here”. Shuri clarified, taking a position close to his brother.

By the look on their faces, you were aware of two things. One, they noticed too that something was growing between Bucky and you, and that it wasn’t a simple friendship. Two, they weren’t going to stop you. Oh, quite the opposite. They’d bring you to him on a golden platter and a big red bow on your head. The king beckoned a hand to urge you to follow him to the inside of the building and use one of their ships to fly above the place to the white wolf’s location.

You were nervous. You didn’t sleep more than a couple of hours last night thinking about him and how he’d react to having back his tags since the forties. Your eyes were focused throughout the window on your left, watching different citizens taking care of animals and plantations, children running from one side to another, playing and having fun. Oblivious to the horror of New York, where you resided. One of the cities in the world with the highest rates of street violence. Serial killers or simply killers, rapists, kidnappers, drug dealers (...). It was a minefield and Wakanda seemed and felt like Heaven.

“Did you think about the offer?” Shuri nudged you to push you back to reality, turning your head towards her.

“Since you dropped it to me”.

“So?”

“I…” You needed to put away your gaze again, focusing on the blue opened sky in front of them. “I want… to consult him first if you don’t mind”.

“Of course, (Y/N)”.

“I don’t want to put his world upside down, now that he’s not the…” You couldn’t finish the sentence. You couldn’t pronounce that detestable nickname and the pain beneath it.

Shuri nodded in silence, not needing your explanations. She knew how you felt. She understood you. The talk didn’t continue, stretching your right hand on your lap to calm your nerves and make you comfortable with the situation. The flight didn’t last longer than five or ten minutes, losing the track of time deep in your thoughts. The pilot indicated to you through the headphones that you were about to land, glancing at a complex of small houses in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees and wilderness.

You were the last one jumping outside with your hand grabbing the tags on your chest, trying to find the encouragement there to follow T’Challa’s hand pointing at a man working with goats and collecting hay for them. Licking your lips and assenting with your chin, you guided your steps towards him. Slowly. As if you wanted to turn around at some point. But you knew it was too late when he was the one turning at the sound of your heavy boots cracking the grass under them.

Bucky didn’t look annoyed for your visit, nor the lack of attention to his petition. Although there was something in his pale blue orbs you weren’t able to decipher, until he bowed down his head unconsciously to his left shoulder covered by a dark fabric matching his eyes. You had to do your best to not roll yours, shortening the distance setting you apart. You had been dreaming about that encounter since the last time you were there before Shuri accessed the darkest place of his mind and cleaned it from any trail of HYDRA. Now, he was free. And he looked in good condition as the bags under his eyes had disappeared and his hair was almost tied with a bun. His cheeks seemed a little more chubby and you just wanted to pinch them. But it’d be weird and out of place. For the time being.

Bit by bit, a sweet smile widened in your lips, curving them as Bucky stared at you again when he was conscious that you didn’t care. With or without a metal arm, your feelings were exactly the same. You couldn’t admire him more than you were admiring him at this point. You couldn’t love him more than you loved him already. And God was a witness of how many times you practiced to confess to him and tell him that the only thing you wanted in life was to be by his side. Bring happiness to his days, bring him peace and harmony.

“I'm sorry…” “I brought you…”

You two spoke at the same time, breaking in a soft giggle that jumped your hearts in complete sync.

“You first”. He let you, waving his hand.

“I… brought you something”. You susurrated, loosening the grip around the metal hanging on your chest to take off the necklace.

You noticed the way his eyes widened in surprise and confusion. Why did you have them? Who gave them to you? Why now? Bucky gulped watching you stretching the dog tags between your fingers towards him. He didn’t know what to do, taking a second before he was able to react. He couldn’t remember when was the last time he saw them, and the amount of memories they gave him overwhelmed his whole brain.

In slow motion narrowing his eyes, Bucky held the chain with two fingers to hang the necklace from it. You thought he was about to wear them, but he destabilized you as he directed his hands to above your head, to place them where they were an instant before. You didn’t understand. Didn’t he want them back?

“I want you to keep it”.

“But…”

“I want you to have something mine”. Bucky recognized with a shy smile decorating his lips. “Those tags and my arm are the only things I have from my past. And… I won’t give you my arm…”

“Well, I bet it’d look good hanging from my neck”. You jocked tilting your head.

In his gift, you found the encouragement you needed to talk about T’Challa’s job offer. It wasn’t as if you were proposing to him, in the end, you were just friends even if it felt quite the opposite. You licked your upper lip, kissing your teeth after it, earning more than his attention.

“Shuri said, uh… I could come here, work with her. We’d do great things together, not only for Wakanda but for the world”.

Bucky’s gesture didn’t change a single inch, focused on the nervousness you were trying to hide from him and reading the reasons beneath.

“So T’Challa offered me to stay here”.

“Permanently?”

“Yeah… Permanently”. You assented pressing your lips, breathing through your nostrils.

“Did you accept?”

“Not yet. Not until talking to you about”.

He nodded then a couple of times, turning to the goats behind him coming closer. “Got to finish some stuff… Maybe we can talk later about it unless you have to leave”.

“No, no. I, uh… asked for the day off. Banner didn’t need me at the lab today”.

“Okay, good”.

While the king was showing you the new level for research and investigations, Bucky took the advantage to go and find Shuri without your knowledge. He found her in the surroundings of the main building, working on your ship as you said it made some kind of random noise that put you out of your nerve during the flight.

“I need my arm”.

The princess squatted close to the left wing, turned at him without standing up. Pulling her sunglasses to the top of his head, she raised an eyebrow.

“For what”.

“You know for what”. He clicked his tongue, placing his hand on his left shoulder.

“No, I don’t”. She lied while cleaning the grass and oil in her expert fingers.

“I need to have two arms”.

“You’ve been working the last months with one arm only. Why do you need it now?”

“C’mon… Argh…” Bucky rubbed his face with boredom. “I want to hug her, okay? Can you just… give me back my damn arm?”

“Not enough reasons, you can hug her using your right”.

“I want to have two hands when I kiss her”. He finally confessed in a hiss, provoking a triumphant smile growing on Shuri’s lips.

“If you lie to me, if you don’t kiss her, Sergeant Barnes… I’ll code it to punch your face”.

“Wait…” Bucky wrinkled his nose drawing a horrified gesture on his face, as he turned his blue eyes towards his left shoulder. “Can you… do that?”

“Try me”.

No, of course she couldn’t, but he didn’t know. Which were a good push for him to not go against her and her petition.

“C’mon. I’ll set it up and help you to put it on”.

Your eyes were traveling from one picture to another. He put some of them around his small house and it looked better now. More like a home. A place to stay. And for a second you felt a twinge straight in your heart when you noticed one photograph of the two of you, close to his bed. It was after your first mission together. Steve insisted on taking it, after noticing the sparkles between you. But you didn’t know he brought it to Wakanda with him, as your copy is on your nightstand too. And you used to fall asleep every night looking at it.

The curtain being moved and some steps in pulled you out from your thoughts, turning to find Bucky staring in silence at you. Your orbs landed on the metal arm. It was different too since the last time you saw it, with golden strips forming between the silver ones. You couldn’t help but sigh.

“You didn’t need to…”

“Yes, I did. I did need it”. He interrupted you, breathing through his parted lips and his heart about to fly off from his chest.

“Why?”

“Because, otherwise, I couldn’t do this”.

You were about to ask what he was referring to, watching him breaking the distance between the two of you in three fast strides. You closed your eyes at the moment his hands held your neck and Bucky slammed his lips on yours. The kiss, the contrast of cold and warmth on your skin, the everlasting longing for it to happen… All of this caused you to gasp, tangling the tunic at the height of his chest in your fists, not wanting him to take a step back. Your mouths fit perfectly without looking for it, made for each other, as he secured his fingers on the back of your neck. And you felt your knees weak when he pecked your lips one more time, before caressing your nose with his, not being able to open your eyes. Neither of you.

“I don’t have the right… to ask for anything”. He babbled. His insecurities coming afloat even if you hadn’t pushed him away. “But… I want you to stay here. With me. I… I don’t have much to offer you, but I promise to make you happy”.

At this point, your eyes were filled with tears, strongly closing your eyelids to not let them fall. You swallowed a sob, moving your hands from his chest to his middle back, embracing him tighter as you could.

“You’ve been making me happy since we met, Bucky”.

He chuckled breathless, intuiting he was too at the edge of his crying because of that affirmation.

“Every Tuesday, I wait at the stairs of my apartment for the mail, for your letters. I’ve… read them so many times I can recite them… by heart. Every word you've written to me”.

“I will continue writing them for you, even if you stay with me”.

Your voices were low, barely audible out of his place. Like secrets. Bucky kissed you again, bending enough to raise you by the back of your thighs and urge you to surround his waist with your legs. The dog tags on your chest clicked against the other, as you moved your arms to his shoulders and neck, and you were unable to stop kissing him. You two could die right now and not be bothered because you were finally together, and that was all you deserved in life.

“Tell me you will stay… please”. His beg brushed your lips, still pecking them between syllable and syllable.

“I will…” You replied without hesitating as you could, eager to correspond to every gesture from him. “I will stay with you”.

feedback is appreciated, please, leave a comment to let me know if you liked it and/or reblog it.

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[lvnatiq]

Random Relationship Headcanons | Felix Escellun x gn!reader

a/n: Hey ! On todays menu I am serving you modern au relationship headcanons. I know for a fact that I can’t write headcanons AT ALL yet here we are, out of spite I will keep trying until I can manage to write good shit. I’m going through a chaotic time in my life so please be patient with me 😭

I’m currently working on tattoo artist! reader x Felix headcanons and college!enemies to lovers one-shot. Knowing that Felix’s fav trope is enemies to lovers, I will post it hopefully before his new chapter drops. I used most of the hcs that were sent to me but if you couldn’t see yours, then it will probably be used on the other works.

No beta we die like men.

warnings: curse words, nsfw under the cut, random sage moments, felix being a ‘the neighborhood’ song basically.

You persuade him to start an Instagram account, and because of his family's popularity, he quickly gains followers. His account is practically empty because he would rather spend his time stalking your account on Instagram. You noticed the emptiness and wanted to take him out and take some photos for his account, which turned out amazingly. He is a little camera shy, so be patient with him.

You like to watch him apply his eyeliner but he finds it so stressing to do under your gaze.  He used to be able to do it easily, but it has now become one of his most difficult tasks. You wanted to ask for his assistance in applying eyeliner to you in the hopes of making it simpler for him; he agreed but quickly regretted it when he realized how near your faces would be. You with your eyes closed, waiting for him to drag the line as he was only thinking about how bad he wanted to kiss you. 

Felix has a Polaroid of you and stella in his wallet I said what I said.

When it comes to himself, he can be a pessimist, but when it comes to you, he is the most loving and positive boyfriend you could ever ask for. You have a dream ? He is ready to help you achieve it. Do you want to change in your life ? Go for it, He’s more excited than you are.

He can be quite insecure at times when it comes to your relationship because he feels like you deserve the world but the world is too big for his tiny hands. Will his cuddles be enough ? God he hopes so.

He almost cried when you told him you loved him for the first time. He's also baffled as to how you might feel the same way about him.

Drunk Felix is really clingy and honest. Whatever he can’t say sober drunk felix can and definitely will.

“May the stars let my death be between your glorious thighs amen-“ “Felix-”

Felix is weird but it add to his charm. It’s not unusual for you to wake up in the middle of the night and find the pillow besides yours empty. In the dead of night, you will find Felix munching on some weird ass food combinations.

He also has a habit of doing things that are extremely adorable without even noticing it. Like walking around the house in his oversized shirts, his hand clutching at the cuffs whilst the other one sheepishly rubs his eye.

“Can I lay on your lap ? I promise I won’t fall asleep. I just need to rest for a little.” His voice is so soft and hushed. “Of course, come here.” He throws himself onto you as he comes hopping on his tip toes.

He falls asleep on his desk too often, so you have to carry him back to his room, where he snuggles against you while you lead him there. Once he's in his room, he insists that you stay with him, so you wait until he falls asleep as you play with his hair, and he wakes up thinking it was all a dream.

I firmly believe that Felix’s love language is acts of service. Like making you coffee and bringing you random snacks as you work or wrapping you up in fluffy blankets whenever he catches you slacking on the couch.

He's been romanticizing anything and everything since he met you. When he sees beautiful flowers, he wants to bring them to you, but he also believes that their beauty stems from the fact that they are alive, so he argues and stresses a lot when deciding what to do in simple situations like these.

His edginess belongs to his impulsiveness and his style only at any other situation he's a complete softboy.

And I'm certain he knows a variety of card tricks. He enjoys showing off, and he enjoys it even more when you become fascinated and beg him to share the trick.

If you're a morning person, you'll probably spend your mornings alone in solitude, finishing work before the day begins, but if you're a night owl, you and Felix will go out for night walks and Felix would go out for night walks, sharing headphones to play some music, enjoy each others presence and develop a habit of watching the sunrise together.

Felix makes you playlists at the most random times and with the most random names. Until one day he sent you a playlist at around 4 a.m called “you”, filled with his favorite music. He usually sees music as a safe space for himself and now that you are his safe place too it’s only appropriate for him to do so. This only further proves how he spends his time thinking about you.

I feel like Felix would have what most would call "attachment issues" but it’s mainly because of his protective tendencies. This is not to say that he’s this "overly jealous toxic" character; rather, he has never had anyone to truly call his own in his entire life so he would do anything to protect it.

Felix is also big on astrology, so if you want the perfect birth chart, he'll give it to you. Also he owns a lovely deck of tarot cards, and if you ask him for a love reading, he can't manage to keep his words and feelings to himself so he modifies your reading according to him and his desires. Let the boy abuse his powers for the sake of love.

His style could be described as dark academia, his wardrobe mainly consists of dark colors, lots and lots of blazers and a lot of oversized shirts. He also loves jewelry so he owns a lot of rings and chains. Just so you know, if you're wearing any of his rings, his heart is doing cartwheels.

Is it obvious that he loves it when you place your hand in his and play with his rings with your fingertips.

Spoil him. Buy him that baby blue hoodie with cat ears.

“Ah, you look adorable.” “Isn’t it a bit too b-big ?” “You could say that. Do you mind ?” “No, I like it that way.” “I would know.” You smirk followed by felix’s gasp. “If you so desperately wanted a cat boy you know you have me right ?” Nudging your shoulder, Sage leapt into the conversation. “What is he talking about ?”  Felix grumbled, only to notice two fuzzy triangular fabrics on top of his head as he brushed his fingertips over it.

He’s obsessed with your hands, kissing your knuckles, drawing circles in your palm. At a certain point it became an involuntary gesture he does it quite often without realizing.

He’s also canonically extremely blushy but he would never admit it. You’re convinced he uses some sort of make up because it is not possible for the pink dusting his cheeks to look this good.

He insists that you’re cold even in the warmest weathers because he wants to see you in his coat.

Sage forces Felix to take his thirst trap Tiktoks.

He really appreciates it when you add to his herbal tea collection without him noticing and he considers it a sign of affection because he takes his tea very seriously.

He loses it when you call him baby he gets flustered and frustrated but it’s all because it rolls off of your tongue so nicely that he can’t get enough of it.

Felix owns a broad collection of scented lip balms some of them are tinted. You didn’t hear this from me.

He never once took anything the Sage says seriously until he saw how well you two got along. He never thought that he would be standing there taking relationship and flirting advice from the frat boy.

Felix is a complete asshole when he wants to. He’s very verbal about it too. Consistent sarcastic remarks and eye rolls. I mean it runs in his blood, look at Escell.

You love it when he suddenly whips out the confident Felix, it’s not a daily occurrence you know.

When Felix is concentrated, he’s lost and there’s almost no way you or anything else can distract him. So it’s time to grab some colorful hair clips and ties to fuck around with his hair.

Felix is not the best at verbally expressing his gratitude towards you. He doesn’t know what he would do if you weren’t there for him at the lowest points of his life where normally he would close himself and bare the weight of his family problems and personal life issues that he can’t seem to get out of. Now he has you, someone who’s willing to listen to him and offer him a warm embrace when he needs the most. 

While you to play games together, when he wins he wears that iconic shit eating grin of his with pride looking at you through the corner of his eye. “Shit, what do you want me to say to that felix ? Perhaps I should call you master now that you won ‘one’ fucking round.” He is praying that the screen light is covering the fact that he is a blushy mess after hearing you say that.

NSFW

I cannot stress this enough but he is extremely vocal in bed. Whining, trying to restrict himself from making too much noise but failing miserably.

Muffled pants, choked sobs and lots of pleasure infused tears.

He loves getting praised during sex but what he loves more is to get praised after it’s all over. Like you telling him how great he was, how well he behaved, how good he made you feel. He experiences sub drops a lot so please assure him that he did well :(

He’s into power-play but not in a submissive or dominant kind of relationship, it’s more of a psychological thing where the fact that he can see how good he makes you feel gives him a rush of confidence and adrenaline.

I believe that this motherfucker is a masochist, pain makes him more excited than getting an update on his favorite author who went on a year long hiatus and that is saying a lot.

Bite him. Scratch him. It is so stimulating for him he can reach his high just from those actions.

Fuck do anything to his ears bite, lick, pull, blow on it. He is extremely sensitive so anything you do will basically drive him out of his mind. It will most definitely lead to him trembling beneath your fingertips.

You must think that you are the only one who is such a tease but you’re wrong. Felix teases you quite often mostly to direct your attention towards him or to keep your attention on him. He’s quite greedy when it comes to you and your hands on his body. Unbuttoning unnecessary amount of buttons on his shirt to show a little skin that he knows you’ll notice. Playing with his necklace placing the chain between his lips dragging it towards the inside of his bottom lip teasing the metallic charm with the tip of his tongue. He definitely ain’t oblivious he knows exactly what he’s doing and he makes sure that you know exactly what he’s doing.

When he’s in the mood he will tug the hem of your top meanwhile his eyes are glued to the floor or graze the temples of his glasses between his lips, his teeth lightly nibbling the pointy edge. He loves to play dumb too. When you question him, he acts like he doesn’t intend anything and that you need to get your head out of the gutter.

At the end of the session Felix looks divine. Drool leaking down from his bottom lip to his jaw line towards his neck, his bangs sticking on his sweat coated forehead, his chest rising up and down quickly. His eyes rolled at the back of his head, his hands still clutching tightly to the sheets. Faint whimpers and deep breaths filling the air.

Leading up to the after care, his shy self returns. He buries his face to your chest hiding his blushy cheeks beneath the palms of his hands.

He likes to experiment a lot and you are his favorite subject.

It shouldn’t be surprising to find random kink definitions or role-play ideas on the search history of your laptop. After all Felix just asked for it to write an email, that’s all there is to it. That’s until you offer to try them out.

He doesn’t act upon his jealousy, what he does instead is that leaving marks on you especially around your neck and your chest where he knows it will show. Don’t cover them up if you don’t wanna deal with him.

“People just don’t appreciate art anymore.” “Felix these are, hickeys.” “Oh so now you are judging my art medium ?” “Since when proving Sage that I got railed by you is a form of art ?”

I didn’t see anyone point this out but whenever he is in the sub space he tends to be more on the bratty side. He starts of shy but his confidence builds up as the tension rises. Meaning that you should be ready to get your patience tested.

When you two are in separate places your suggestive words and tone leads up to phone sex, which Felix secretly fantasized about a lot. What made everything even more dirty was the fact that you didn’t know that he was laying on your bed surrounded by your scent and humping your pillow. Once you come back home you are greeted with a fresh pair of sheets on your bed. Apparently Felix decided to do you a favor and clean your room as well as the the whole house. He’s crossing fingers that you don’t notice because he knows that he’ll never hear the end of it.

Felix knows a lot about sex but his knowledge is based upon fiction rather than experience. So, naturally, he is more interested about learning specifically how your body responds to certain actions, what you enjoy and what you’re interested in so teach him. He’s a good student and oh well he’s a quick learner.

Pull his hair pull his hair put his hair pull his hair pull his hair pull his hair pull his hair pull his hair.

When he settles between your legs as he ties his hair, he places the hairband between his lips and looks up at you with half lidded eyes. It’s his definition of torture.

Even though he doesn’t give off that vibe, he is very freaky if you would’ve known what his AO3 tags consisted of you would agree.

Tag list is open

[dem-obscure-imagines]

Nightcrawler and the Princess

Kurt Wagner x Reader

Fandom: Marvel/X-Men

Summary: Being the princess of a small kingdom has its perks. However, you’re not sure this is a secret you can share with the rest of your friends…

Note: Did I make this a subtle crossover with the Princess Diaries? Yes. Yes I did. Don’t worry about it.

Reader is: Female

Warnings: Swears

Word Count: 1.8k

You carried the large box to the lunch table and set it there, in the middle of your friend group. Jean eyed it curiously.

“What’s that?”

“Care package from my mom.” You replied, using the pair of scissors you kept in your school bag to cut open the packing tape. “She said there’s stuff for the rest of you in here too. Probably candy or something.”

“That’s nice of her.” Scott smiled, watching as you opened the cardboard box.

“Ah, yep.” You reached into the bag and pulled out several packages of Genovian chocolates. “Here you go, guys.” You told them.

Kurt’s eyes narrowed at the bags, his tail hovering behind him curiously. He recognized that packaging. “These…I know these chocolates. Does your mother live in Genovia?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. I’m from there, actually.”

Peter thought for a second, already munching on chocolate. “Wait, I thought you were American.”

“Nope.” You laughed, reaching further into the box and pulling out a handful of little Genovian flags she’d sent. “Ah, right. Independence day is coming up.”

“Where even is Genovia anyway?” Warren asked, admiring the little flag once you handed it to him.

“It’s a tiny little country between France and Italy.” You explained. “It’s really beautiful there, though.”

“It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever been.” Kurt reminisced, sighing fondly.

“When did you visit?” You asked him.

“Several years ago.” He said. “The circus had a few shows there when I was young. The people were so kind, and the coast sparkled like diamonds.”

“You were with the Munich circus, right?” You asked him, trying to remember. He nodded proudly, a smile settling onto his face. “I was at one of your shows! I knew you looked familiar! Oh my god…” You laughed and shook your head. “I should have put those pieces together sooner.”

“You were there?”

“Yeah! My mom took me for my birthday.” You smiled, remembering the show fondly.

And Kurt knew then the information that you were withholding from the rest of the group. His eyes widened slightly and he studied your features. He remembered you. He remembered that day and he remembered the feeling of his heart hammering when after the show, the Queen of Genovia herself introduced him to her daughter, who was about his age. She’d taken her there because it was the princess’ birthday. Though your meeting was brief, he’d remembered it all this time, thinking of it every once in a while…the time he’d met a princess.

You didn’t look all that different now than you had then. Why you hadn’t told the rest of your friend group, he wasn’t sure, but he would keep the secret for you. Of course he would. He smiled softly, admiring you with his new revelation in mind. Even before he’d figured it out, you’d already been a princess to him anyway.

Peter studied the look on Kurt’s face and squinted. Something was going on. Something was going on and he would get to the bottom of it…

***

Over the weekend, your friend group had decided to go to the mall, but before you left, Kurt knocked on the door to your room.

“It’s open, come on in.” You told him.

He pushed open the door and stepped into the room timidly. You were at your desk, reading what appeared to be a letter written on a piece of paper.

“What’s up?” You asked, not looking up from the letter when you asked it.

“You’re coming to the mall, right?”

“Yeah, what time is it?” You glanced down at your watch. “Oh shit. Sorry I’m late.” You chuckled, folding the note and tucking it into your dress drawer. “My mom wrote me a letter with her package.” You explained.

“How nice!” Kurt smiled and you couldn’t stop your heart from fluttering at the way it lit up his face. “Do you write each other letters back and forth?”

“When I have time to, yeah.” You nodded, shoving your hands into your pockets. “Well, shall we?”

Kurt nodded and offered you his arm. You took it and in a poof of smoke, suddenly, you were standing in the living room, where the others were all standing.

Peter had a weird look on his face and you weren’t sure why, but you knew he was up to no good. He always seemed to be…

The squad piled into the car, as usual, and arrived at the mall in under thirty minutes. Jubilee picked the tunes, which was always a good choice, so the ride there was pleasant and relatively uneventful.

You all walked inside and started the routine of shopping around in all of your usual stores. The prom was coming up, so you all spent some time in the dress place on the upper level of the store.

“What color dress do you think you’re going to get, (Y/N)?”

“Mmm, I’m not sure.” You thought for a moment. “Maybe something pink. Or…blue?”

“I think blue would look great on you.” Jubilee grinned, flipping through the rack of blue dresses.

“I agree.” Jean smiled, her eyes flicking over towards Kurt, who was on the other side of the store with the boys.

“Hey now.” You warned, your cheeks warming at the thought. “What did I say about reading my mind?”

“I didn’t need to read your mind. You’re more obvious than you think you are.” She chuckled.

“What she said,” Ororo agreed, causing your cheeks to flush even hotter. “Why don’t we ask the boys which one you should wear?”

“That’s a great idea.” Jubilee agreed, despite your shaking head. “Hey boys!”

“Yes? What’s going on?” Kurt bamfed over beside you, looking at Jubilee curiously.

“Which dress should (Y/N) wear to prom?” Ororo held up one pink dress and one blue dress.

“The blue one.” Scott said knowingly, crossing his arms and smirking. Okay. So he and Jean had talked, then. “Definitely the blue one.”

“I agree.” Warren nodded.

“What do you think, Kurt?” Scott nudged the teleporter.

“I think you’d look beautiful in anything. But I do like the blue one. It brings out your eyes.”

“T-thanks.” You blushed, giggling. None of you committed to dresses, so after looking around for a while the squad decided to hit the food court while looking over movie times.

“So…” Peter looked up at you and cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the rest of the group. “When were you planning to spill the beans…your highness?”

You swore your blood ran cold. You looked up at him, your heart racing in your chest and the color drained from your face. “Excuse you?”

“You heard me.” Peter raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair confidently. “When were you going to tell the rest of us your little royal secret?”

You froze, staring at him for a long time. “Maximoff,” you said through gritted teeth, your eyes glowing faintly. “Choose your next few words very carefully.”

“Oh I have. (Y/N)’s the princess of Genovia.”

“Pfft. As if.” Scott scoffed, chuckling, but he stopped when he looked at the look on your face. “Oh shit, is he serious?”

“Who the fuck told you?!” You asked him, your voice raising the teeniest bit. “The only people who know are Professor Xavier and Dr. McCoy, so which one do I have to kill when we get home?”

“Neither. I snooped in Xavier’s office. Found your file.” Peter shrugged. “And of course, that begs the question: Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Listen…” You exhaled a long breath, looking to each of your friends faces for a moment before fixing your eyes on the table. “When people know, they treat me differently. I don’t think they mean to, but they do and it sucks. I like having friends and I love hanging out with you guys and I didn’t want to ruin that because of something as stupid as status.”

“You’ve got us.” Jean promised. “We’re not going anywhere. This doesn’t change anything. And…I already kind of knew. Not that you think about it often, but every once in a while…”

“I figured that might happen, yeah.” You chuckled. “Thanks for keeping it on the DL.”

“Of course.” She nodded.

“I knew too…” Kurt confessed, looking you in the eye.

You crinkled your eyebrows and then nodded, understanding. Of course he knew. You two had met before, after the show. You’d asked your mother if you could meet some of the performers, and she’d pulled some strings to make it happen. You distinctly remembered meeting Kurt. You remembered his smile and his adorable pointy ears.

“That’s right.” You smiled. “We met.”

“We did.” He agreed, nodding, a smile tugging at his lips and a faintly purple color creeping across his cheeks. “Although, I’ll admit, I didn’t realize it was you until…very recently. We aren’t kids anymore.”

“We sure aren’t.” You agreed, a chuckle escaping your lips.

And it was fine after that. It was normal. Much more normal than you’d expected it to be. Another week came and went. You finished your letter to your mom, Queen Clarisse, and when its response came back in the mail, you found it accompanied by a small picture she had saved all these years. As soon as you looked at it, a smile on your face, you knew you had to show Kurt.

So, you ran out to the courtyard, where you knew he was, and found him reading under the shade of a large tree in the front yard.

“Kurt!”

“What’s up?”

“My mom sent a few copies of this photo. Do you want one?” You asked, sitting next to him in the grass and handing him the photo. He looked it over, holding it very carefully in a large, three-fingered hand.

“This is us, ja?”

“Mmhmm.” You hummed, nodding. “A very long time ago.”

“We were so young…” He murmured, admiring the smile on his face as well as yours. He remembered you’d been nervous to meet him and at first, he thought it was because of the way he looked, but quickly learned it was because you’d been enamored by his performance. Absolutely blown away. You’d been so kind to him then, just as you were so kind to him now.

“We really were.”

“Do you mind if I keep this?”

“It’s all yours.” You told him. “So, what’cha reading?”

“Beauty and the Beast.” He told you. Ever since remembering that one of his best friends was a princess, he’d been on a bit of a fairytale kick.

“Mmm, that’s a good one.” You smiled and tilted your head, your eyes sparkling. “Read to me?”

“Of course.” He laid back against the tree again, holding the book open with his tail.

You got closer to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and resting your head against his lean chest. His arm wrapped around you and tugged you closer, and without even thinking about it twice, he pressed a soft kiss to your hairline before starting to read again.

Kurt decided then that there was no place in the world he’d rather be than under his favorite tree, a princess resting contently against his chest.

Part 2?

[atths--twice]

Chapter Two

Time for a non date date! 

Scully stood in front of her closet in only underwear as Emily clung to her.

“Okay, what do you wear to a ‘not a date, but you want it to be a date?’”

Scully’s best friend Ellen gave her a look. “Day, you obviously like him, just tell him.”

“I can’t do that!” she said flustered as she turned around. “I mean, yeah he’s a psych professor, so he’s not going to judge me, but be reasonable, El. I’m a single mom. There’s not really a market for women like me.”

“Of course there is.”

“Single moms under thirty.”

“Okay, we’ve narrowed it down a little, but I really think he likes you too.”

“You don’t even know him, how could you possibly know that?”

“Please,” Ellen scoffed, pulling a dress of deep midnight blue from the closet and laying it on the bed. She took Emily from her and smiled as she tickled her. “He, without any prompting, offered to watch a child he’d never met to help you out and allow you to teach your class. He could have said something cruel or rude, but he was helpful. He. Likes. You.” Scully stared at her and Ellen raised her eyebrows. “Deal with it. Get dressed, I’ll get little miss ready for our sleepover.”

“You don’t need to keep her overnight, I’ll come and get her after I get home.”

“No. The house will be empty, giving you a chance to…” She wiggled her eyebrows and Scully raised hers.

“This is a first date… or not a date, just drinks. That’s all. It’s not going to lead to… anything you may be suggesting. Or thinking.” She shook her head and Ellen shrugged.

“Nothing? Not even a kiss?”

“I… I don’t know. But it definitely won’t be what’s going through that dirty mind of yours.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Get out of here. Let me get dressed.” She laughed as she smacked her playfully and Ellen walked toward the door.

“Put on the push-up bra, it makes your boobs look great in that dress.”

“Ellen…” Scully warned.

“O-kay, we’re going to go and let you get dressed up for your not date. Remember the bra.” Ellen wink and gave a smirk.

Scully stared at her as she started to close the door and Ellen tilted her head, raising one hand in a ‘have it your way, but you know I’m right’ gesture.

She closed the door and leaned against, shaking her head. Looking down, she sighed. Pushing away from the door, she walked to her dresser and took out her black and pink push-up bra.

Undoing the clasps on the one she was wearing, she took it off and slid on the other, mumbling under her breath about how very annoying Ellen could be when she was right.

X

Across town, Mulder changed his shirt for the third time, a different tie for each.

“This is so stupid,” he murmured to himself, deciding to stick with this shirt no matter what. “It’s just drinks. Not a date.”

But what if it was? He didn’t want to show up looking shaggy or too casual.

“Damn,” he said, taking off the navy tie and his shirt before reaching for the one he’d had from the start, plaid with green and dark blue.

Buttoning it over his white undershirt, he picked up the gray tie and quickly tied it. Tucking it into his dark jeans, he buttoned and zipped them and tightened his belt. He put on some brown boots and walked to the bathroom to fix his hair.

He smiled at his reflection, thinking he actually looked quite nice for their date. No… not a date. Just drinks. He sighed, wishing it was more, but he would follow Scully’s lead on this one.

His phone beeped and he stepped into the bedroom to get it, finding an email from Scully. Heart racing, fearing she was cancelling, he opened the message and saw she had sent the address to her house. He smiled and emailed back that he would be there in twenty minutes.

Grabbing his car keys, wallet, and phone, he said goodbye to the fish and lifted his jacket from the coat rack. Locking the door behind him, he ran down the stairs, not having any patience to wait for the elevator.

X

He pulled up to her house twenty minutes later, on the dot. Taking a deep breath, he got out and walked through the short gate and up the front path. He grinned as he looked around the yard of the little house. There were signs of her life with Emily everywhere: outdoor toys left in the grass, colorful pinwheels in the garden, a child’s stroller and a baby doll stroller off to the side, chalk drawings on the cement, and little shoes and rain boots by the front door.

Smiling at the sign hanging from a nail on the door that read: Welcome to the chaos, we’re glad you’re here, he knocked and waited.

She opened the door and he drew in a breath, completely unprepared for the sight before him.

She wore a dress of dark blue and silver strappy heels. Her hair was down, where she usually wore it pulled back in a ponytail, and he saw it was longer than he had previously thought. She was wearing her makeup differently than she normally did too, her eyes and lips darker.

And sweet Jesus did she smell good.

“Hey,” she said quietly and he cleared his throat.

“Hey,” he croaked out and she laughed. Clearing his throat again, he nodded. “Hello.” His voice sounded normal and she gestured for him to come in with a smile.

“I just need to grab my purse and my jacket and I’ll be ready. Make yourself at home.”

He followed her down the hall and into the kitchen as she went to what he assumed was her bedroom.

“Emily’s not here?” he called as he looked around with a smile.

Again there was evidence of a life of which he had not had any previous knowledge. Brightly colored plastic plates sat drying on the side of the sink. A booster seat was connected to a kitchen chair. There were toys in baskets under the lip of the island counter full of different types of toys: dolls, trucks, a doctors kit, a toy microscope, and a wooden train set. Pictures on the wall and fireplace were of her and Emily, what appeared to be her with her parents and siblings with and without Emily, and a couple of pictures of Scully when she was pregnant.

“Oh, no,” she called back, her heels clicking on the wooden floor as she walked into the room, pulling a gray jacket around her shoulders. “My friend Ellen is watching her tonight. At her place.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Though I was kinda hoping to see her for a minute.” She stared at him and he smiled. “She’s a sweet little girl. I enjoyed spending time with her today.”

“Well… thank you.” She blushed. “And thank you again for your help, it meant a lot.”

“Of course.”

“Should we get going?” she asked as she pulled her arms through the sleeves.

“Yeah, other people deserve to see you in that dress,” he said, smiling as he stepped closer.

“Is it too much? I uh… I don’t get the chance to go out often and I-”

“God, no. You look beautiful. You are beautiful.” She stared at him again and he blushed furiously. “I just…”

“Thank you.” She grinned and he exhaled, feeling like he’d stuck his foot in his mouth. “You look really nice too. I like that shirt.”

“Thanks.” He grinned, happy he’d made the right clothing choice. “So how about those drinks?”

X

“I like the ambiance of this place,” she said as they sat down. “It’s… I know this might sound weird or… but it feels young and happy.”

“As if you’re an old woman,” he teased and she smiled.

“It’s not that. It’s just… I love my life, my daughter. She’s everything to me. I wouldn’t trade a day of my life when it comes to how it changed when I found out I was pregnant. But… I’m not even thirty and sometimes I feel with school, life, and then her, I missed it. That feeling of no worries or cares. Being here…” She gestured to the bar that was full of college students, music playing from somewhere, the sound of pool balls cracking, and laughter. “I feel young again and even if it’s for a little while, I like it.” He smiled at her as the waiter arrived to take their order.

“I’ll have a whiskey,” he said and looked at her.

“A dirty martini. Really dirty.”

“You got it,” the waiter laughed and she stopped him from leaving.

“I mean, I want it so dirty, it’s cloudy. Grey Goose vodka.”

“You just became my new favorite person,” he said and winked at her as she laughed.

She fanned herself and took off her jacket, placing it across the back of the chair. He too took off his jacket, the bar definitely warm.

“So dirty martinis, huh?”

“Mmhmm. Oh and Bloody Marys. Those are my two favorites.”

“Good to know.”

She smiled, leaning forward with her chin on her hand, her blue eyes shining.

“Here we go, let me know if that’s dirty enough.” The waiter set Mulder’s whiskey down and then her martini.

“Oh, I can already tell it is,” she said, reaching for the stem of her glass. Taking a sip, she closed her eyes and hummed in pleasure. “Perfect.”

“Good.” The waiter winked again and walked away.

“A toast,” she said, raising her glass and holding it closer to Mulder. “A thank you really… for helping me and giving me an excuse to get out of the house for a little while.”

“Cheers to that. And you’re absolutely welcome… again.”

They clinked their glasses together, both of them smiling.

X

“So…it was hard at first, but once we had a routine, it fell into place. I don’t miss getting up four times a night, though.”

“And does her father see her?”

“No. Not… I haven’t decided if he will. I don’t want to keep Emily from her dad, but he’s made no effort or shown any interest so…” She shrugged as she looked down at her drink.

“Well, he’s an idiot. She’s a great kid.”

“She is. Though you may not have thought so when she was sick yesterday.” She laughed and he shook his head.

“No, I would’ve.”

She lifted her head and he suddenly noticed how flushed her cheeks were. Had he made her blush? No… it wasn’t that. Reaching out, he touched her cheek gently and his eyebrows shot up.

“You’re hot.”

“Um… what?” she asked, pulling back a bit.

“I think you might have a fever.”

“I don’t… I’m…” She touched her forehead and stared at him. “Oh…” He smiled as he reached out again and placed his hand on her forehead and this time she leaned into his touch.

“Yeah, you definitely have a fever. I don’t think alcohol and these nachos are the best food for you to be eating right now. I actually think we should get you home and into bed.”

“Hmm, but I…” She looked around and then down at her dress. “I…”

“Scully,” he said softly, cupping her cheek, his thumb grazing her warm skin gently. “We can do this again. Wow, you’re really hot.”

“I’m going to choose to accept that as a compliment and nothing else.” She closed her eyes and exhaled as he chuckled quietly. Her eyes opened slowly and he saw now how glassy they had become.

Taking out his wallet, he put down two twenties and a ten, knowing it was more than the amount of the check, but not caring. All he was concerned with, was taking her home and getting some medicine into her system.

“Come on. Let’s go.”

He helped her to her feet and she hummed as she bumped into him. Grabbing her purse and jacket, he placed an arm around her shoulder. She was so warm, he could feel the heat coming off of her through his shirt.

“Seriously, you’re so hot. Should I take you to the emergency room?”

“Don’t be silly. I’m fine.” He nodded, though he didn’t quite believe her. Keeping a hold of her as they left the bar, he led her to the car.

She kept her eyes closed on the drive back to her place, the little house he had liked as soon as he had arrived to pick her up. It was so her. Her and Emily.

“We’re here,” he said softly after a few minutes and she opened her eyes.

“That was fast,” she murmured and he chuckled as he took off his seatbelt. A trip was always faster when a person was asleep for the majority of it.

Or all of it in her case.

He opened the door for her and offered his hand to help her out. God, even her fingers felt overly warm.

“My keys are… in my purse. I think…” She started to reach inside, but he stopped her, taking her purse and finding them himself instead.

The door unlocked, he pushed it open and turned on a light. She stumbled past him and started removing her jacket before heading to the bathroom. He followed and waited outside.

“Shit.” He heard a minute later.

“You good?” he asked.

She opened the door and looked at the thermometer. “A hundred and two and some change,” she said, defeated. “As if I need more to worry about. Oh,” she shivered suddenly. “Great, now I’m freezing. Can you get my phone for me?”

Mulder looked in her purse and took out her phone. Handing it to her, she folded in on herself to keep warm as she tapped on the screen before holding it to her ear.

“Hey, El… actually, we had to cut it short… I think I caught whatever Emily had… I can manage, but… I know you offered, but… you know I hate asking you to do that… well have you asked Em?...” Her voice changed as the voice on the other end of the phone became higher-pitched and more energetic.

“Hey, baby… listen, Mommy’s sick, she doesn’t feel good… I know, but I don’t want to get you sick again… it’s just until tomorrow, okay?... you be good for aunt Ellen, okay?... I love you, Em.” She hung up the phone soon after and looked at him.

“Well, I’m down for the count. I need to email my students and tell them not to come tomorrow. Oh, I need to send them their reading and assignments. Fuck, I…” She stopped talking, spacing out.

“Scully, you okay?”

She said nothing, just bolted into the bathroom and huddled over the toilet as undigested food made its way up.

He waited outside the bathroom, leaning against the wall and listening to her vomiting. He sighed, wishing he could do something to help her. The toilet flushed and he heard the sink running and then she groaned as she leaned against the door frame.

“I feel terrible. Ugh…”

“You need some medicine, where do you keep it?”

“My bathroom.” She pushed off the door frame and walked down the hall, him following behind her. She sat on the bed and pointed to the bathroom with a groan. “The medicine cabinet.” He smiled and walked into the bathroom.

As he grabbed the bottle of medicine and turned around, he saw the bathtub and somehow the sight of it was when he fell in love with her.

It was a rather large tub, no doubt something she enjoyed relaxing in as evidenced by the baskets in the corner with magazines, candles, and bottles of bubble bath and oils. But it wasn’t that which caused him to fall, it was the items along the edge of the tub.

Rubber bathtub toys of sea creatures, jungle animals, ducks, and unicorns lay all along the edge. Cups of different sizes, a bottle of bubbles to blow, and bathtub crayons sat beside them.

Seeing how their lives were so intermingled, thinking of how she would need to move those items in order to have a calming bath, it endeared him to her as a mother and a woman. So many men he knew needed a ‘man cave’ and their ‘own time.’ Mothers, well most mothers, didn’t get that option. And he knew Scully was her own person aside from motherhood, but seeing evidence of it right in front of his eyes, he was a goner.

“Did you find it? I know it’s a mess in there…”

“No, I’ve got it.” He walked out of the bathroom and saw her sitting on the bed with her eyes closed and he smiled.

Yeah. He was a goner.

X

She was sleeping, breathing deeply out of her mouth. He watched her, feeling her head and nodding as it felt cooler, though not as cool as it should be. She had changed into her pajamas as he had gotten her some water to take her medicine. After she did, she had laid down with a sigh.

“I’m so sorry our date was cut short,” she had breathed and he knelt beside the bed, brushing the hair off of her face. Her eyes had fluttered open and he smiled.

“Rain check, remember?” She had nodded and whined slightly. “You get some sleep.” She had nodded again and closed her eyes.

She had fallen asleep quickly and he left her alone to get more water to leave beside her bed.

Now, he watched her sleeping, hoping she would be feeling better soon. He would wait for a bit and see if she needed any help, knowing it was hard being sick on your own.

Walking to the kitchen, he took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and loosened his tie. He looked around again and found he really liked being there, felt comfortable in her space; it was very inviting. Looking more closely around the rest of the house, he smiled at the photos on the walls and pictures drawn by Emily: lines of color with no particular form, but treated as beautiful art. He liked that.

Checking on her again, she was still sleeping, feeling cooler now. He nodded as he left the room, closing her door halfway. Sitting on the couch, he turned the television on low and took a deep breath. Just a bit longer and he would check her again.

X

He jerked awake almost two hours later as he heard the toilet flush and he jumped up, hurrying down the hall. She was coughing and he knocked but received no answer. Hearing her vomit, he walked into the bathroom and saw her huddled over the toilet.

Looking at the sink, he saw a black rubber band and picked it up. Stepping closer to her, he gathered her hair and tied it back.

“Oh… I… mmmm,” she groaned and threw up again.  

He stood up and found a washcloth in a basket by the tub and he wet it with cool water. Laying it across her neck, she moaned out a thank you.

“I think I’m done. There can’t possibly be anything left. Ohhh.” She flushed the toilet and he helped her up. “I need to brush my teeth.” She walked to the sink and took her time brushing them.

Back in bed, he wiped her face with the washcloth and she sighed. Satisfied she was okay, he went back to the living room.

X

He stayed on the couch, waking with the rising sun, and stumbling to the front bathroom to pee. Hands washed, face rinsed, he walked to her room to find her sleeping, her hair damp.

“Good,” he murmured, feeling her forehead and finding it cool. Her fever must have broken in the night. She stirred, but did not wake.

Taking her glass, he went to the kitchen and got more water, bringing it back to her room and then going back to the kitchen to find something to eat. A bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee later, he heard her shuffling down the hallway.

“Oh! I didn’t know you were still here.” He turned and looked at her, smiling at her disheveled appearance. She was absolutely adorable. “Shit, I must look terrible.” Her hand went to her hair and he shook his head.

“You look more than fine.”

“Hmm. You’re a liar.” He laughed and she smiled.

“Let me make you something to eat.” She groaned and he stood up with a smile. “Just toast for now.”

“And maybe some tea?”

“Sure.”

X

She fell asleep on the couch, her tea half drunk and only one piece of toast eaten. Her head was on a pillow beside his leg and he had to fight the urge to run his fingers through her hair. His phone beeped and he saw a message from Tyler.

Took care of your classes for today. Spoke to Dr. Scully’s assistant and she emailed the students the information they needed. Hope she feels better soon. If you need anything else let me know.

He typed a quick message back and set his phone beside him.

Thanks Tyler, appreciate it.

He glanced at her again and clenched his jaw. Just once would be okay, he convinced himself, placing his hand on her head and running his fingers slowly through her hair.

Just once, he thought, determined to stick to his own rule.

But then she hummed and he paused.

“Feels good,” she whispered and he smiled, continuing to let her soft hair run through his fingers.

X

A while later, Mulder heard the door unlock while Scully was bathing and he was on high alert. Ellen appeared in the doorway and was startled by his presence.

“Oh! I didn’t realize… are you…?” she said, standing in the front hall.

“Guppy fish!” Emily said and attempted to wiggle from Ellen’s arms. She set her down and she ran to Mulder, lifting her arms to be held. He grinned as he bent down and picked her up.

“Hello, Em. How are you today?”

“We go see guppy fish?”

“Oh… not today sweet one. Mommy isn’t feeling well.”

“Mommy sick?”

“Yeah, but we can see the fish next time, okay?” She touched his tie, holding it in her hands and nodding seriously.

“We see fish waiter, Aunt Ehwee.”

“I think that’s a good idea. Hi. I’m Ellen.”

“Fox Mulder.” They nodded and she looked him up and down, watching as he interacted with Emily.

Yeah… she liked this one.

“Where’s Dana?”

“Taking a bath. She should be out soon.”

“I’ll go see how she’s doing.”

She walked down the hall, a smile tugging at her lips. Knocking on the door, she stated it was her and she walked into the bathroom.

“Hey, how you feeling, hon?”

“Much better,” Scully said with a smile. “I suppose emptying my stomach of everything I’ve ever eaten helps a little.” She shook her head and sighed.

“Or the man down the hall, perhaps?”

“Ellen…”

“He stayed the night, Day. And it was just drinks?” She stared at her and Scully stared back.

“Maybe a bit more,” she admitted and Ellen nodded.

“Uh huh. Let me get you a towel.”

X

“Thank you again,” Scully said with a smile, wrapped in a warm fluffy robe, her hair still up from her bath. “You didn’t have to stay, but I’m thankful you did.”

“You’re welcome. And you don’t have to take me out to thank me this time.” He smiled and she looked at him.

“And if I wanted to?”

“Are you asking me out?” Mulder smirked at her, his expression suggestive.

“Or in, perhaps. Dinner? Here? This weekend?” He grinned and looked over at Emily playing with her blocks.

“I’d like that.”

“Good. It’s a date.”

“Yes,” he said, placing his hand on her cheek, his thumb stroking gently. “Yes it is.” He kissed her forehead and she sighed, her heart fluttering. “Feel better and let me know if I can bring anything to our dinner date.”

“I will.”

He said goodbye to Ellen and Emily and walked out the door. Scully let out a breath and grinned.

“Mmhmm,” Ellen hummed loudly from across the room and she turned to her, shaking her head with a smile she could not and would not keep hidden.

X

He walked up the front walkway carefully, mindful of the item in his hands and the many toys in his path. She had said he didn’t need to bring anything, but he knew there was one thing he needed to bring at least and he was excited to see the reaction to it.

Ringing the bell, he balanced it again and waited. Hearing fast little feet running toward the door, he grinned and squatted down, bracing himself, but wanting her to be the first one to see it.

The door opened and Emily stood before him, Scully beside her.

“Oh! Oh. So pretty. Fishie! Mommy see fishie? Guppy! Guppy fish!” She clapped her hands and then leaned forward to look closer at the fish in the small tank with a castle lid.

He had put in rainbow colored rocks, two green plants, and a teal colored betta fish.

Watching her face and the excitement upon it, he knew he’d made the right choice.

“Actually, my girl,” Scully said, squatting beside her. “That’s a betta fish. Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Pretty betta fish. So pretty. Fish swim fast.” She looked at it from all sides, Mulder grinning as he watched her.

“Let’s let Mulder and the fishie come in and we can look at it more.” She stepped back and picked up Emily, allowing Mulder room to enter the house.

He stepped inside and walked to the kitchen, setting it on the counter. She placed Emily on a chair and stood beside her as she watched the fish swimming around the plants.

He smiled and looked at Scully, planning to make a comment about Emily’s excitement, but the words were never spoken as she grabbed his sweater and pulled his lips down to hers, kissing him firmly.

The shock of it caused him to freeze, but then he kissed her back, his heart pounding in his chest. Pulling back, he stared at her and she smiled, tugging at his sweater once more, kissing him again.

“Mommy! Fishie is so pretty.”

“Mmm, yes baby. It’s very pretty,” she said, her eyes on Mulder and not the fish. She grinned and he cleared his throat.

“So… I did good?” he teased and she laughed softly, letting go of his sweater and smoothing down the wrinkles she had made.

“I’d say so.”

“Good,” he responded, looping an arm around Emily’s middle to stop her from getting too close to the tank and falling off the counter. “I mean… I wasn’t sure when her birthday was so...”

“Oh it’s a birthday gift?”

“I like to cover all my bases.”

“Well, you’re a bit early. It’s not for a couple of months yet.”

“Hmm… then I’ll have to get something else when that time comes.”

“Yes,” she agreed with a smile, lacing her fingers with his other hand and squeezing. “Yes, I suppose you will.”

He grinned and squeezed back, falling further in love with her, if that was even possible.

[kazeofthemagun]

@sanguinehaven asked the summoner:

*Oh, welcome~

The strange, pink and vaguely human shaped creature greets Black Wind from the counter, waving with a pleasant smile on their face.

*Sorry if it's your first time here, the door seems to be acting a little strange lately. But~ If you'd like a break and a warm meal, feel free to take a seat and I'll get to you right away, if you'd like to return from where you came from, exiting should take you where you last were. I won't take offense if you choose to leave, I know it must be a little disconcerting to walk in to somewhere strange....

The hustle and bustle of the crowded city was a necessary evil to endure if he and White Cloud were to gather information. The knight was, by the virtue of his biology, much better at eavesdropping - but it was the gunmage who blended in better. Slightly better. There was still that imposing frame, oddly colored hair, and a face saturated with curious markings. There may or may not have also been a golden machine in place of his right arm, though that lay well concealed beneath a spacious dark cape. At the very least, he was not either puffing magic Mist or wearing a metal mask at all times. He also notably lacked horns. Wonderland was the home of all things strange and yet one could only be so strange before they started to draw prying eyes.

Several figures wearing telltale shades of green and red suddenly appeared at the opposite side of the tavern - this was their cue to leave. A gloved hand reached for the doorknob and pushed. A click followed by a whine of poorly-oiled metal.

That was... definitely not the gray street he expected to see.

There was a brief zap of energy; The Wind could recognize magic when he felt it. The sensation passed as quickly as it struck - leaving him mysteriously at the entrance to what appeared to be a quaint... store of sort. A café? A teashop? A what now?

A visible eye of blue soon fell on the figure at the counter. At first glance humanoid - and yet possessing vibrant pink skin and a elongated nose. Some denizen of yet another devoured world? The scent of magic lingered. The person immediately took initiative - as though expecting him. Did they.. she? Summon him?

“...........”

There was a look of profound confusion on the Dark Unlimited's face. A rare sight indeed to witness the Wind so utterly perplexed by his surroundings. Usually, whenever he entered some weird place, he did it of his own accord, prepared for whatever oddities he may face ahead.

This time, however, he hardly recalled casting a portal.

The being's tone was warm and welcoming. It was almost difficult to suspect ulterior motives - and yet, his mind immediately keyed in on the words "return", “exiting” and “leave”.

The perplexed look faded as swiftly as it appeared - with the warrior turning a full 180 degrees and promptly opening the door. Not a single word - and he was gone, wood closing shut behind. Noisily, at that.

Little did he know that while he may have been done with the place, the place was not quite done with him. Perhaps he should be wary of carelessly opening doors from here on out...

[jadedxrealityw]

-Mind Stone- Peter Parker x Female Reader Part 1

    ☼-☪-☼

   Kody: Awkward Peter Parker for the win. By the way both Peter and you will be 17 in this fic. K, thanks. Also reminder that Engame is set in 2023

   Movie/Show: After Endgame, but no one died because ignorance is bliss. 

   Summary: In the attack of 2012, you were given powers that you couldn’t understand at such a young age. 

   Possible Triggers / Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of blood and harm, Loki having a Thanos moment, Vision and Wanda being your new parents- but not really, slight OP reader- but only because i am dumb

    ☼-☪-☼

   highschool sucked, well that’s a given but what sucked even more was going to highschool in New York where the Avengers usually fought their battles. In 2012 when the first major attack happened. When Loki, the god of mischief used the tesseract to bring the Chitauri to Earth.

    you remember it vividly for a 6 year old child. Your mother and you had decided to go school shopping since you’d be starting kindergarten. You would have gone when you turned five, but you had a late birthday. After shopping for nearly an hour your mother decided to get you a donut from a local bakery.

   you had both walked in and your mother sat you at a booth with your bag of supplies. She walked to the counter and began to order what she wanted along with your favorite kind of donut. The shop had a glass wall in the front so you could see outside, you thought it looked pretty cool.

   at one point you looked up from the piece of paper you had been drawing on and towards your mother. She had just turned around holding a paper bag and a cup of coffee. She gave you a warm smile as she walked towards you. She looked at the window behind you and her face suddenly turned pale.

   she dropped the cup and bag onto the ground. You watched as coffee spilled all over the tile floor, but had no time to say something as your mother ran over to you and grabbed you from the seat. She held you close to her chest and ran out the store, not bothering to grab the items she left. 

   you were so confused on what was happening until you saw a tall unhuman like creature with grey skin and gold headpieces. The Chitauri. Your mother ran down the sidewalk as large ships flew through the sky. Buildings were being shot through and debris was falling from above.

   being just a little girl made the whole ordeal much worse. Your mother ended up running into an alleyway. She went behind a dumpster and crouched down, placing you on the ground. “Alright- it’s going to be alright” she grabbed your face and planted a kiss on your forehead. 

   the dumpster that you both were behind flew into the air and you were face to face with a Chitauri. It raised it’s gun and shot at your mother. It hit her in the middle of the back, causing her to fall to the ground. You watched as your mom fell to the ground and blood began to pour from her back.

   she slowly lifted her head and reached to touch your face “You have to run Y/n! Go!” she yelled as the Chitauri drew closer. You turned to look behind you. Run. That’s what she wanted you to do, but you didn’t want to leave your mom. She was hurt and was the only family you had. 

   ever watch those youtube videos of children trying to be protective and everyone finding it cute? Yeah those. Well this would have been cuter if you weren’t facing an alien that could shoot you in the face with it’s out of world technology. 

   your tiny 6 year old hands lifted up a piece of plywood from the ground and began to swing it around yelling at them to “Get away from my mom!” thinking back on it, you thought the Chitauri was more confused than threatened. It still walked towards you, raising it’s weapon. 

   that’s when something- someone dropped in the middle of both you and the Chitauri. It was a man with shoulder length black hair that was slicked back. He was wearing strange clothing that was dark green and black with some gold lining. 

   he turned to the Chitauri and waved his hand “Run along creature” he said in a formal tone. You kept the plywood in your hands as you didn’t know if this strange man was a threat or not. The Chitauri nods to him once before turning away and running out the alley, probably to terrorize other people. 

   the man turned on his heels and faced you. You had now noticed the golden scepter in his hands. It was curved at the top which was silver with a sharp edge and bottom and hand a bright blue stone in the middle, encased within the gold. He stalked towards you with an overly sweet grin.

   (cue Thanos moment) 

   “You’re just adorable aren’t you?” he spoke, mostly to himself rather than you. He crouched down to meet your gaze, his eyes an icy blue color. “Were you just about to challenge that Chitauri?” he asked, a slightly amused tone lacing within his words. You nod once, being the shy kid you were and stranger danger. duh

   he nods along with you before looking behind you to see your mother unconscious and on the floor. He doesn’t say anything involving her and looks back towards you “How old are you?” he questions. Your hesitant at first, but tell him “6...and a half” one of his eyebrows go up slightly in shock. 

   “Children who are willing to stand up to a creature much bigger than them are what we call little warriors. It’s honorable. If only you weren’t a mortal, so feeble and fragile” he spoke so formaly that your child mind was finding it hard to keep up with him. 

   his icy blue eyes slowly moved away from you at at his scepter “Hm” he hums before holding his staff up to you. You take a small step back, reasonably scared of the silver blade it had. How else did he think a kid would react. You weren’t quite sure why you hadn’t run away by now honestly.

   “Do not show fear. That is what will get you killed. Now little warrior. If you wish to protect the ones you care most for. Place your hand on the stone” he spoke, pointing towards the blue gem on his scepter. In other circumstances you would have ran away, but your eager child mild thought about your mother. 

   so you touched it

   you felt a swirling and painful feeling shooting through every inch of your body, causing you to left out a harsh scream. Your vision was covered in a blue like storm. Like a tornado that formed around you. You could no longer see the mystery man and could no longer feel your feet on the ground. 

   but just as fast as the feeling came it left and began to see black spots cloud every inch of your vision. You felt yourself drift out of consciousness and you black out. The man- Loki watched as you fell to the ground. He reached down and felt for a pulse. Still alive. 

   he got up and walked over to your mother, waving his hand over her wound and watched it disappear. He places a illusion and a type of force field over the alleyway and leaves to be his freaky weird self at Stark tower. 

    ☼-☪-☼

   2023 

   (Aka Kody’s version of Endgame that makes no logical sense)

   after being ‘blipped’ out of existence for five years you were still adjusting to the change. Your school- Midtown High School had created a program for kids how still needed to finish there senior year. You were placed in a new classroom with a couple of kids you knew and didn’t

   the only names you could remember was Ned, Mj, Flash- he was a dick, Betty, Liz, Brad, and Peter. You didn’t know any of them personally but had heard thee names enough to look at their faces and remember them. You all were in a class together all day except for lunch and a free period. 

   you didn’t really care much for making friends because you never had the time. After being blipped back you found out your mother wasn’t and she had been put in a home. You took care of her for a couple years until she died in her sleep from a stroke. 

   once you got back you took on a couple jobs to try and raise enough money to buy a small apartment for you. One job was a checking books for damages at a library and the other was stocking shelves at a supermarket along with the occasional dog walking and errand running.

   needless to say you were busy and guilty for what had happen that day to your mother. You tried telling her about the man that had talked to you which you later found out was Loki the god of mischief and he wasn’t the greatest of people, but he hadn’t been back to earth since. 

   the powers he gave you were more of a burden then blessing at most times. With the ability you could now throw energy projectile blasts, manipulate others minds, use telepathy, astral project and teleport. It was a lot for a six year old so you ended up never using it.

   that was until you were thirteen and walking to school. You saw a cat in the road laying down. The worst part was a car was coming quickly, speeding actually down the road and the cat was not moving. Your poor animal heart couldn’t take it and in an instant you teleported in front of the cat. 

   you picked it up and teleported back on the sidewalk. You weren’t quite sure how you did it, so chalked it up to spur of the moment thing. You ended up keeping the all black cat and naming it Snape. He turned out to be a little shit so it fits.

   after that you started practicing and developing your abilities. Your logic was if you have them at least learn how to use them even if you don’t want them. You had refused to use them unless absolutely necessary though. You didn’t want to draw attention towards yourself. 

    ☼-☪-☼

   6 months later

   outfit

   you pushed open the door to the classroom with one hand and a box of donuts in the other. “Is Mr. Harrington here yet?” you ask out loud earning a couple no’s in return from what you assumed was Mj and Betty. You nod once and shut the door. You look up and walk towards the table your friends were at

   yeah yeah, you decided to finally get close to these people you were stuck with. Some a bit more than others....Anyway, you took a seat next to Mj and place the box on the table “All your guys favorites. I know i’m amazing- hold your applause please” you say, holding up your hand.

   Mj rolls her eyes and slides a coffee cup towards you “Here, since you got donuts” she shrugs before reaching into the box. You smile and grab the cup. It was still hot. You hear the door open again and turn your head to see Peter and Ned walking “Hey guys! Y/n got us donuts!” Betty exclaimed. 

   they both look up. Peter looks at you and you both lock eyes for a moment before he adverts his gaze quickly. Imagine having a crush on a guy who is a nervous wreck? You found it cute though- in a non weird way. “Oh! cool. Thanks Y/n” Ned says and takes a seat next to Betty

   you give him a half smile as Peter takes a seat next to him. All of you grab a donut and begin to eat. After a couple minutes you hear Peter yelp and look towards him. He reached under the table and rubbed his leg, giving Mj a glare, who gave him one right back. 

   “So Y/n. Since midterms is coming up and we've all stuck together this year Peter was thinking of having a small get together at his house while his Aunt is out of town” Ned suddenly spoke up, taking your attention away from Peter and Mj’s death stares. Your face twinges a bit “When is it?” you ask. 

   “This Tomorrow” he says. You had always turn down offers like this because you feel guilty going out while your mother was stuck in a home unable to walk even though she told you to be a teenager multiple times and to stop worrying over her so much, but alas you were a stubborn one. 

   “I’m working that day-”

   “No your not. I have your work schedule, both of them” Mj cut in with her emotionless smile as she took a bite of her donut. How did she know your work- nevermind. You forgot Mj was a genius sometimes and a class A weirdo, but she was your weirdo. “I have to ask Nancy then-”

   “I called her. She said it was okay”

   you blink mindlessly for a moment before Betty spoke up “You have Nancy’s number?” she asked, leaning into the table. Mj shrugs her shoulders “She’s a nice conversationalist” she says vaguely. You all stare at her for a couple seconds before you think of another excuse. 

   “It’s Peters party thing.” You say and looked towards the brown haired boy who had been just listening to the chaos “Do you even want me there?” you ask him. Peter’s eyes widen briefly “Of course i want you there!- I- uh i mean yeah your my friend” he sputters slightly, Ned facepalming behind him.

   Mj grins as she finished her nice fried treat “I win” she says and you exhale “Fine i’ll go. It would actually be nice to get out the girls home” you admit, leaning back into the chair “Nancy still a raging bitch?” Ned said, making Peter and Betty chuckle. His laugh was nice- so was Betty’s of course eh ha. 

   “Mr. harrington is coming! Hide the box!” Brad yells as he peaks out the door. You all quickly scramble to shove the box in your bag.

   ☼-☪-☼

   at the end of class while you were packing your things when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You place your notebook back down and  turn behind you. There stood Peter Parker staring back at you nervously “Um- Hi” he says and you smile lightly “Hi” you say back to him.

   he reached behind and scratched the back of his neck “So uh- about my party thing tonight” he starts. You nod slowly “Yeah the party thing” you repeat. “Ned’s thinking about bringing Betty as his date” Peter sputters out. You purse your lips together into an emotionless smile.

   “Okay...” you trail before going to grab your notebook again when Peter slides it off the table and into his hand. You slowly turn and raise a brow “Thank you?” you say and hold out your hand. “Would you like to be my Betty?- Date! i mean date. Would you, Y/n be my date to my party thing”

   a smile formed on your lips. Not in a million years did you think Peter Parker would break from his shell to finally say something to you. In all honestly you would have made the first move if he didn’t make it so damn hard to figure out if he actually liked you. 

   “I’d like that very much. As long as i get to see your lego death star” you say. His face goes from nervous and fearing rejection to slight confusion. He lets out a small laugh “Are you using me for my death star?” he asked, his tone a bit more confident than before.

   you gasp, your mouth agape in mock offense “How dare you accuse me of such things Peter Parker- but yeah your right.” you say jokingly. His smile turns into a wide grin that he is unable to control. You held out your hand again and Peter gives you the notebook.

   “I’ll see you tomorrow then?” he asked as you open your bag to place the notebook next to your folder before zipping it up. You look at him and nod “Yeah you will. Who knows, maybe i’ll wear something nice” shrugging, you turn around and head out the door. 

   as soon as you walk out all of that cool and collected confidence melted away and you were left smiling and laughing like a giddy school girl all by yourself. 

    ☼-☪-☼

   Peter Parker asked you out. Peter Parker asked you out

   you were walking home, humming along to the music blasting through your earbuds. You couldn’t hear any of the loud ass lovely sounds of Queens. You reach into your jeans back pocket to grab your phone when someone shoulder checks you hard. 

   you went to curse out this rude stranger when you realize they were running with a worried look. You take out the earbuds and your ears are instantly filled with cracking noises and peoples screaming. You look up and the building next to the one you were standing next to was on fire. 

   it was an apartment building and the top floors were engulfed in flames. You saw a crowd forming outside of the lobby and cue into there conversation. A woman was crying on the ground while another woman held her “Our sons are still in there! There on the top floor! Please you have to get them!”

   the woman seemed to be pleading to a officer who was keeping people from going inside along with multiple other police men and woman. “Ma’am the fire department is on there way. There is a delay due to traffic. You’ll just have to wait” he says which just makes her cry out, her wife grabbing her tighter. 

   “Where’s Spiderman!”

   “Spiderman isn’t fireproof!”

   you felt your hands shake a bit. Those boys were stuck up there and you could do something. So why were you standing still? You could help, but you were so scared of losing control and causing more harm then good. All reasoning went out the window when you heard a boy cry for his mom.

   you duck into an alleyway and dig through your bag. You grab your black hoodie and face mask you had always carried for some reason. You just needed something to cover your skin. You take off your flannel sweater and shove it in your bag before slipping the hoodie on. 

   you take the face mask and put the elastic bands behind your ears and press the metal bar against your nose so it molds against your face. You take a deep breath and pull the hood over your head. Inhaling deeply, you thought about being on the floor and in a blink of an eye, you were gone. 

   once you open your eyes you see flames licking up the walls and it instantly feels a million times hotter. “So this is what a rotisserie chicken feels like” you mumble. “Mommy!” a boy yells and a cry of another one follows. You walk down the hall avoiding the wall with flames.

   you make it down the hall and go to reach for the door handle. As soon as your palm touched it, it seared your skin. You hiss and pull back your hand quickly. Looking at your palm you saw the red skin. “Shit. Why didn’t i just teleport in?” you thought aloud before poof you were in. You see two boys huddled together.

   you walk towards them “Hey! Are you two okay?!” you call out. The older one, around ten maybe looks away from his younger brother who looked a little over three and at you “Help please. My brother fell asleep and woke wake up!” he cried before bursting into a coughing fit. 

   “I’m here to help. Just be calm okay? I’ll get you both out of here” you say to try and sooth the boy. He nods and tries to stand up with his brother. You step towards him and lift the little boy in your arms. You use your free hand to take the mask off your face and hand it to the boy “Put this on”

   he takes it from your hands and puts it on his face. You hold out your hand and he grabs it. You give him a quick smile beforeing teleporting back onto the sidewalk. The fire department and paramedics were already at the lobby, getting ready to go in. 

   the boy lets go of your hand and runs towards his mothers “Mommy!” he yells and the two woman look up. “Georgie?!” the crying woman yells before they both run towards him. You look at the crowd and realize that people had just saw you poof into existence. You quickly look down before anyone can see your face. 

   shit shit shit shit 

   in a haste you walk over to the paramedics who were already walking towards you and hand them the little boy “he inhaled to much smoke” you spit out and turn around. Before you could take another step fucking Spiderman just drops down. This couldn’t get any worse.

   “Hey- person! How did you do that!?” he yells but you teleport into the ally. You lift the hoodie from your body and drop it into your bag. You needed to go home before anyone came around. 

    ☼-☪-☼

   the next day

   Peter had dealt with the situation and avoided press about who the mysterious teleporter was. Mostly because he didn’t know and didn’t want to spread panic amongst the public. So he decided to contact Tony the next day out of all people, cause duh. He was driven by Happy to the Avengers base.

   once he got out he was waiting in the main area where they had there meetings, which is where we start off. Tony walks through the door followed by Natasha and Steve. Clint was with family at the moment and Tony just gathered who was here at the moment. 

   “So kid. No pressure, but if this isn’t serious as you say i will revoke your suit privileges for a week” Tony threatens making Peter smile nervously. “It is i swear. So i was walking home from school right? Yeah and this building was on fire so of course i’m the friendly neighborhood Spiderman so i went to go save them-”

   “-skip ahead” Tony cuts in, Natasha rolled her eyes, folding her arms over her chest. Peter nods fast and coughs a bit before continuing “Anyway this random person in a hoodie like pops out of nowhere- like teleported into the building and saved these two kids and-” 

   Natasha raises her hand “This person you say saved kids? Why are we talking about this again?” she asked. Suddenly the door opens again revealing Wanda and Vision “Well this place needs tighter security” Steve says. Tony sighs and looks at them “No please come in were not busy or anything”

   Vision steps towards the group along with Wanda “There’s an infinity stone on earth” he spoke rather vaguely. “Yeah it’s in your head and the other is with the Wizard- We’ve gone over this people! You need to read your debriefings” Tony points at Vision before leaning against the long table. 

   Peter just sighed as he knew he would be ignored for the next few minutes “I am aware of the of the Time and Mind stone location. There is something with the same signature as the mind stone on earth. Like Wanda’s but weaker and more docile.” he explains. 

   both Steve and Natasha give him terrified looks “Could it be a mishap from the time traveling? Wanda was anyone else given powers like you?” Steve asked. Wanda shook her head “Me and Pietro were the only people who survived, but they could have continued there experiments?” she suggests. 

   Tony shakes his head “Strucker was killed by Ultron and anyone who knew about it is the same way or locked up in federal prison. This is something different- wait kid” he says and turns to Peter “You said you saw somebody with powers today right?” 

   Peter nods to Tony “Yeah- i couldn’t really tell there face, but i’m pretty sure it was a girl?” he said, quite unsure of his own words. Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out a dry erase market before walking over to the clear board that was set up in the room. 

   he uses his mouth to bite off the cap of the marker and turns to Steve to spit it out at him. The cap bounces of...well cap. His chest to be more specific and drops to the ground. Steve narrows his eyes, shaking his head slightly at Tony’s behaviour, but that was normal. 

   Tony draws a quick messed up bean shape and labels it the Mind Stone “So what we know is that the mind stone is stuck in ‘Not Jarvis’ over there” he says and draws a short line from the stone drawing to the words ‘Not Jarvis’ “Now for the people with the mind stone power. Go!” he points randomly behind him.

   Wanda spoke up “Pietro and i” she says, her expression faltering a bit. Vision wraps his arm around her side and pulls her into him. He looked down at her and gave her a loving smile, one that she returned. Peter watched them for a moment. They had such natural love for two unnatural people. 

   he wondered if he would ever find something similar to what they had. When he thought about it hard enough his mind went to you. You had both gone to school together since you were kids, but were never close or talked in general. That was until junior year when you were placed in his english class.

   Peter took into the fact that you were much quieter then you had been before. You would gaze off into the window and go unnoticed by anyone. You were never really there, just existing in the background. No romantic feelings were involved at the point just curiosity. 

   then both of you were placed in the program and he got to finally talk to you. Or so he thought. You were still the same, sat in the back, dozing off, but still managing to pass every paper with a C or higher. Peter found it strange that you had not changed one bit.

   ever since the population was ‘blipped’ back people had been more daring and taking risks, claiming it was there second chance at doing what you really dreamed of and such, but you were just there....existence again. Still the same old girl.

   could you be so content with your life that you would make no change? or was there something in your way, stopping from evolving in life? As you can imagine these thoughts filled Peter’s brain to the point that it physically hurt. Still no feelings at this point, just frustration. 

   that’s when Mj noticed his infatuation with you and she decided to take matters into her own hands, per usual. She talked to you after class and invited you to sit with them at their table. Peter thought there was no way you’d take the offer, but you did? Mj was either really convincing or God

   the world will never know

   that’s when romantic feelings were involved. Peter thought that you would act the same, but just around a group of people but he was so wrong. You actually engaged in conversation. Maybe that’s what was keeping you from making friends, being scared of making the first move.

   he would always remember the day he saw you smile. It was like it lit up the whole room. All his senses were heightened- more then they already were as Spiderman and it was so weird. Everytime he was around you he felt euphoric in a way.

   he fell hard

   the next six months were spent obsessing over what to say, do, wear, even eat around you even though he knew you weren't the judgy kind of person. It wasn’t long until everyone around him except for you knew he had a crush on you, but you just thought he was a nervous guy. 

    oh god- he asked you out and you said yes. It was almost like he couldn’t believe you had actually said yes. Peter didn’t think he was a bad looking guy, just that you were so out of his league it was almost comical. What should he wear? What if you both got alone at some point during the party thing?

   “Kid!”

   Peter’s eyes averted from the floor and towards the small group. All of them were looking at him with concerned expressions He smiled sheepishly, reaching behind to scratch the back of his neck “Sorry- sir” he says. Tony exhales dramatically “Oh i’m sorry are we boring you?” 

   Steve shakes his head “He’s probably thinking about school or something. He’s still a kid Tony” he says giving Peter a nod- yeah school. Totally. Tony waves him away “Whatever. Now that your back on planet earth kid go suit up. Not Jarvis over her can track our mystery chick”

   Peter’s face lights up “Yes Mr. Stark- i can use the bathroom first right?” he says. Tony blinked mindlessly for a couple seconds “Yes.....go” he waved him away. Peter smiles before waving to the rest of them politely. Natasha gave him a warm smile along with Vision and Wanda. Steve was scolding Tony.

    ☼-☪-☼

   Peter had his suit on and made his way to the front where Wanda, Vision, and, Tony. “Where’s everyone else?” Peter asked, walking towards them “We want to keep a low radar” Tony said, adjusting some tech on his arm. Peter tilts his head and points at Vision “but he’s red- no offense!” he says. 

   Vision looked at his body for a moment “Oh yes. One moment please” he spoke and in a way of yellow magic his body switched from it’s natural red form to a human one. Peter’s eyes widened under his mask, taking a step forward “That. Is. So. Cool!” he shouts going over to spoke Vision’s arm.

   Vision lifted his arm out for Peter to touch, finding it amusing. Wanda snickered to herself at Peter’s child like wonder. “Alright let's head out before the Kid starts drooling” Tony interrupts as Happy pulls up in front of the base. Peter quickly snapped his head towards Tony’s direction. 

   “If were trying to keep a low profile. Why am i here in my suit?” Peter questions, crossing his arms. “You are going to be on a building watching and observing. I signal you if i need you” Tony explains. Peter sighs in defeat, he was backup....again. At least it was something.

   “Okay” Peter says. Vision faces Wanda and opens his mouth to speak, but before he could Wanda does “I know, you want me to stay here in case it’s dangerous” she spoke. Vision let out a small snort, holding back a smile. Did she know him that well?

   duh. I want what they have

   “Actually, quite the opposite. I think you coming is a great idea” he said, stunning Wanda into silence for a couple seconds “What?-” she looks up at him. Vision reaches down and takes his hand into hers. Peter watched, wonderly if he should give them a moment or not.

   “If this person really has the same powers you then they are just as scared and confused as you were. They might find comfort in knowing they are not alone” Vision spoke, Wanda nodding along with him. She understood what he meant and she was glad to help them- the stranger. 

   “Okay”

   “Already love birds and backup into the car. No flying or swinging today. Good old fashion driving” Tony ushered everyone out the building. 

    ☼-☪-☼

   outfit

   you were holding a white tote bag full of groceries since you didn’t like the plastic ones, walking to the group home. You usually bought non-refrigeratable items every week to keep in your room since the other girls in the home like to steal food that wasn’t there's. It sucked, but you had no other options. 

   turning the corner, you started to walk down a pretty empty backway street. One hand on your bag and another on a switchblade in your brown jacket. A girl needs to protect herself in this day and age with perverted super straight men. More like super small. 

   you feel your phone buzz in your back pocket and reach behind to grab it. You tap the screen and notice a familiar contact ‘My Wife’ oh it was Mj. She had sent a text ‘Yo, for the thing tomorrow can you bring me that bread from the corner store around your place?’

   did she just text you....for bread? My kind of woman. 

   you snicker to yourself and drop the handle down your arm and so you could use both hands to text her back ‘Yeah sure. I think you have a problem though. This is your fourth loaf this month’ you sent the text and shove your phone into your pocket. 

   looking up you see a woman with long reddish brown hair and a tall man with blond hair. They looked like a couple and were walking towards you. Out of pure social anxiety you were going to put your head down, but were stopped when the man spoke.

   “Excuse me miss” he spoke, very formally and had an accent of some sorts. You stop a few feet in front of the couple. They probably wanted directions. They didn’t really look like new yorkers in your opinion. “Um yes?” you say with a polite smile. 

   in an instant a yellow color enveloped his body and he switched from the normal man to- to- The Vision!? You took a step back The Vision calling out to you “Please wait!”, turning on your heels to run away. You instantly hit some kind of hard metal, causing you to fall back onto your butt.

   “Not so fast kid”

   once you look up you see the one and only Tony Stark in his suit- so Iron Man actually. What the fuck was happening? Your heart rate began to speed up. Shit. “I haven’t done anything” you say quickly. This time the woman with reddish hair spoke- oh shit isn’t that the war criminal turned hero?

    “We know you have some kind of ability, correct?” she asked. She had a slovakian accent. How did they know? Should you tell the truth? You didn’t like that Stark was in his suit, it just had ‘i already see you as a threat’ written all over it, but the woman seemed so kind and gentle with her words. 

   looking up at her, you nod slowly. The woman offers her hand for you to take and you do. She pulls you off the ground. Once your up she seems to study you “I’m Wanda, you are so young. How old are you?” you look down for a second before back at her. She was so nice “I’m 17″

   The Vision- or just Vision stood next to Wanda “How long have you had these abilities?” he asked you, gesturing for you to walk with them “Since i was six, it happened in the 2012 attack” you explained. Wanda’s eyes widen a bit “Six years old? What monster would give a child that power?” 

   “Were walking now, great” Stark says and is ignored

   you gulp as you walked alongside them, gathering up your courage to speak. It was still a touchy subject “The mind stone was in Loki, the god of mischiefs possession at the time, but i cannot see him sharing power with another person let alone a human” Vision but in. 

   “It��s a long story” you say, your face cringing slightly as the memories flooded “Do you wish to speak with us in a more private place?” Vision asked. Wanda gave you a warm smile as well. You nod once “Yeah that be great.” you say.

   “Alright let’s roll out. The kid is dealing with a bank robbery a couple blocks away, but he’ll meet up with us once he’s finished. You two take her back i have to pick up Morgan from school or Pepper is putting me in the doghouse” Stark said before he flies up into the air.  

    ☼-☪-☼

   Peter had just swung down into the base through the opening in a skylight that Tony installed for quick access. Once he landed on the ground he pulled his mask off and pat the metal spider symbol on his chest. The suit folded into itself until all was left was the metal spider. 

   he turns into the hallway and makes his way to lab, figuring Tony would have resided there after there encounter with the person. As he walked he felt the hair on his arms and neck stand up in attention. Peter tingle. Peter reached behind him a grabbed an arrow mid air, turning on heels. 

   he turns around and sees Morgan with her training bow, giggling to herself “Hi” she says with a small smile. Peter smiled and looked at the arrow, the tip was dull so it wouldn’t have done any damage “Hi” he says back to her “Nice shot by the way” he adds.

   Morgan giggles, pushing some of her brown hair from her face. Peter crouches down and hands her the arrow. She doesn’t take it and turns around so he could place it in her quiver. It was clearly made my Tony and had her name in red rhinestones. Super techy and cute. 

   Peter place the arrow in with the rest of them and Morgan turns back around “Do you know where your dad is?” Peter asked and she nods, not saying anything “What do you want for the information?” he questions with a mock serious tone. 

   Morgan’s face scrunched up, trying to make it look like she was thinking. After half a second shes smiling brightly again “Up!” she exclaims. Peter chuckles to himself before scooping Morgan up in his arms. He lifts her up and she points down the hall. “To the lab!” she shouts.

   “Yes ma’am” he replies and began to walk down with her. While they walked Morgan began to tell Peter about her day at school and how Tony picked her up in his suit and everyone thought it was super cool. Seems like something Tony would do. 

   when he made it towards the lab entrance he spotted Wanda and Vision staring into the window that looked into the lab. Peter places Morgan down and she fists bump him before running into the lab. That seemed safe. “Peter your back, are you alright?” Wanda spoke. Peter looked away from Morgan.

   Peter nods “Yeah nothing i can handle. Sorry i wasn’t there” he apologized. Wanda shook her head with a smile “The situation never escalated. We were able to take her in willingly. Mr. Stark is with her now” Vision explained. Peter raised a brow “So it was a girl?” 

   “She’s only 17. She got her powers when she was only 6. We haven’t noticed her because she never uses them” Wanda says. Peter’s brown eyes widen in size “Six years old?” he mumbled to himself. Wanda gestures to the window they were looking out of.

   Peter steps towards them and turns his head to look into the window. He spots a girl propped up in a tube and unconscious. H/L H/c hair and- oh shit. Peter’s mouth fell open as he now processed what he was seeing in all of it’s reality. “Y/n?” he said to himself. 

   both Wanda and Vision look at Peter “Do you know her?” Wanda asked since before you went into the lab you told them your name and Tony had yet to pull up your name in the database. Peter nods and just watches in shock as Tony stands in front of the tube analyzing your DNA. 

   “Yeah- she’s in my class. I’ve known her a long time, but we only got close like 6 months ago” he explains, reaching up to run a hand through his hair “Shit” he huffs out. Wanda looked confused “How close?” she asked, sensing they were a bit closer then he said. 

   “i asked her out yesterday. I planned it for weeks just for this to happen” Peter sighs. Wanda places a hand on his shoulder “Does the fact that she has powers change the way you feel about her?” she asked. Peter shook his head “No- i just wish she told me”

   “Fear takes over the mind. As well as rejection over something you cannot control” Vision says, tilting his head slightly “But sometimes you have to take risks. I was made without emotion, but i grew to love” he explains. “Her having such abilities should only bring you closer”

   “but she doesn’t know i’m spiderman” Peter says with a nervous laugh “Well i think it’s time you tell her, but i can not tell you what to do just advise” Vision smiles politely and takes Wanda’s hand into his, placing a kiss on her knuckles. Peter watched for a moment before sighing.

   what to do

    ☼-☪-☼

   after tony took all the tests he could do he called up Strange to contact Thor since the god of thunder did not have a phone. They needed to get Loki to earth to explain how he gave a child such powers and/or kill him. That was mostly Tony’s idea. 

   Tony got real sensitive when he figured out a child- a girl his daughters age was given such an ability and it suddenly got personal. You were put into a guest room so when you woke up it wouldn’t be such a surprise and more cozy then a hospital bed. 

   your eyes open slowly and your met with a ceiling fan, which is slightly strange. Your room didn’t have a fan? You slowly sat up. “I wouldn’t move much” your head snaps in the direction of the voice and you see..Peter?! sitting in a loveseat next to the bed you were laying on. 

   “Peter? What are you?- Oh your internship right. I-” shit how were you going to explain to him why you were there. Peter shakes his head “I know why your here” he says. This whole demour was different. He didn’t seem nervous at all. You exhale deeply “Well shit”

   “Yeah-” Peter raises his arm and a web shoots out from his wrist, grabbing onto the glass of water that was on the nightstand. He pulls it into his hand and hands it to you “Oh shit” you repeated “Your um- What!?” you were in complete shock. Why did he have to this after you just woke up?

   he nods “Yeah- i’m Spiderman” he says, looking down for a moment before back at you. "You aren’t weirded out?” he asked. Your face dropped to a deadpan look “I can create portals and teleport. I’m surprised your not weirded out” you say back. 

   “You can teleport that’s like- so cool!” and there goes the geek in him. You chuckle to yourself as you take the water from his hand, taking a sip “Yeah” you say. “You don’t seem to like it do you? Wanda told me what happened” he asked. You shake your head.

   “I never have. I thought i was weird. I never even told my mom” you say. Peter looked like he didn’t know what to say for a moment “Yeah i didn’t tell anyone either. Then Ned caught me, then May. Mj kinda found out on her own actually” he says, looking like he was thinking back on it. 

   “They all know!” you exclaim and he looked taken aback “They caught me when i flew into my window! Mj is just- Mj” he throws his hands in the air for a moment. You stifle laughter at his reaction “Okay okay. So the Stark internship is like a coverup?” you ask.

   “Yeah. He tracked me down when i first started being Spiderman. Gave me a cool suit- multiple cool suits in exchange that i fight with him against Captain America. That was so long ago now that i think about it” he says. You nod along. Jeez this was a lot. 

   once he finished speaking you both sat there in silence for a minute or so “So-“ you start, putting the glass down “I might not be able to go to the party thing.” you say with a laugh. Peter laughs as well “Yeah i figured you couldn’t. Mr. Stark wants to keep you overnight” 

   you sigh. You didn’t really want to be stuck in a random place at night with being you didn’t know. Even if they were nice, they were still strangers. Peter notices the change in your expression and reaches to grab your hand. You feel your heart race abit as he does. 

   “I already cancelled the party. I told Ned and Mj the truth, minus the you part and they made up some excuse on how they would move it somewhere else and i wouldn’t be coming” he rubs his thumb over your hand. You look up at him “You didn’t- why would you do that?”

   Peter inhales before speaking “Because you shouldn’t be alone right now and- and because i really like you Y/n. Like a lot- i have for awhile” he says. Is he confessing right now? Weird timing, but you’ll roll with it. “I really like you too Peter”

   his face lit up like fireworks, you swore you could see an actual sparkle in his eye. He goes quiet again as his eyes slowly move down to your lips. He doesn’t say anything, but it is very obvious of what he wants “Peter” you say and he breaks out of his trance “huh?- yeah!?” he says with a nervous laugh. 

   “Kiss me”

   he froze for a second before sputtering “Really?! because i don’t want to make you uncomfortable because i really like you and Steve said i should always respect women and their decisions ‘cause-” you grab the collar of his sweater and plant your lips on his. 

   you thought he wasn’t going to kiss back since he was just frozen. So, you went to pull away but were pleasantly surprised when he grabbed the side of your face, pulling you into a deeper kiss. Holy shit- the nerd had game. Peter must have been really into the kiss because he forgot that air was a thing. 

   you pulled away and he rests his forehead on yours, smiling like an idiot “I’m sorry i just-” “It’s okay Peter” you say before he could stumble over his words more. He smiles again and goes to kiss you again but as you go to lean in yo see a little girl in the doorway.

   “Shit!” you jump back and Peter looks at you weirdly before you point at the doorway. Peter turns around and his face drops “Morgan. Shouldn’t you be waiting in the conference room for Pepper to pick you up?” he says. Morgan giggles and walks over to the bed.

   she looks at you then Peter “She’s pretty” she says making you smile a little. Peter chuckles to himself “Yeah i know” Morgan giggles again before nodding “I approve” and with that she walked out the room, shutting it behind her. You blinked mindlessly for a couple seconds 

   “I feel honored” you say and Peter chuckles 

    ☼-☪-☼

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    ☼-☪-☼

   Kody- there will be a part two to this story if it is so desired.

[cozycryptidcorner]

Potamoi (Greek River God) x Reader (sfw)

A commission for the wonderful and kind @atalantaroars! She wanted a meet-cute with the monster match I wrote for her awhile ago. Hope you all enjoy the hunky water boi as much as I did creating him!

There are two options for you today: hike a trail, or go one more week in the stifling silence of your house and go absolutely insane. It doesn’t take much mental convincing to pack up a little backpack with snacks and water, waking up while the sun is barely more than a hint in the sky. This might not be your usual mode of operation, to drop everything and spend time out in nature despite whatever responsibilities you still have at home, but you’ve been pushed to the fucking brink lately and need to spice things up.

There’s an unmistakable scent of growth the moment you step out of your car, one that calls your body forward as if you say welcome home. You take in a few long, deep breaths, trying to let the cold morning air medicate your soul in the only way nature can, a deep sense of relaxation overcoming your mind and body as you try to clear your worries away. Only when you feel mentally ready to take on the hike, do you approach the entrance of the nature reserve.

A large, wooden board is painted with the many different trails you can take, all winding around the mountain range, labeled with various symbols that indicate difficulty levels. While you don’t think you could manage one of the more difficult ones, you also think you might not find much fulfillment in one of the easier paths, so you settle for one a bit in the middle. This trail should wrap around one of the valleys, following the main river that brings life to a neighboring town, one fed by the melting snow from the tips of the higher peaks.

Everything is quiet, peaceful, you don’t see anyone else as you begin to walk the trail, basking in the sunlight before it’s drowned out by the towering trees. Birds chirp as you continue on, sticking close to the side of the matted dirt, right where vegetation dares to attempt growing. Wildflowers dot the side of the hill as the earth swells upward, white, light blue, and yellow smattering color amidst the green. The air is almost shockingly different from what you’re used to, your body is trying to compensate for the freshness, but it doesn’t quite know how yet.

When you take a break, the sun is already high in the sky, sweat now beading down your forehead. The water you carelessly packed tastes divine, you have to be careful not to drink too much or too fast, saving most of it for later. You even eat your lunch when you get to a pile of rocks that work as a table and seat, the flat, elevated surface perfect for tossing your food onto without worrying about it falling off.

Once you are satisfied that you’ve explored the trail as long as you desire, you decide that it’s about time to head back. Even though your path into the forest seemed straightforward and easy to remember, there are suddenly several branching paths that you didn’t even realize you passed just moments before… which isn’t good, to say the least. Biting your bottom lip hard enough to taste blood, you try to logic yourself into taking the one that seems like it blends seamlessly into the trail you’re walking.

Or maybe it would be best to keep going in the direction you were already heading, after all, the trails are supposed to loop around and head back to the parking lot, the keyword here being eventually. Some of them are supposed to take a seasoned hiker a full day, and you don’t remember how long this certain one is going to take because you had decided previously that you would turn back anyways.

Letting out a breath, you decide that it might be a better option to take the more straightforward path instead of risk getting lost, so you tighten the straps of your backpack and keep walking. As you go, you think about how best to ration what’s left of your water, in case you’re in for a much longer hike than you initially anticipated because you’re not sure if you can realistically make it.

You take another well-needed rest after a long while, trying to close your eyes and chill out, trying to find the same solace in nature that you felt earlier in the morning. Instead of that same, peaceful aura that settled around your body in a soft, gentle wave, you only feel more tense and anxious as you did before. The sounds of the forest are no longer warm and inviting, the screech of cicada is now like a hard, ugly accusation, the occasional snapping of twigs don’t fill your heart up with the thought of life, and the sky’s tone seems to turn almost a hateful gray as the sun makes an almost hasty descent.

Up ahead, there’s a river, and if you remember correctly, civilization is often downstream. Letting out a breath, crossing your arms over your chest, you look down at the water, internally fighting over what you should do. After a long moment of contemplation, you decide to stick to the trail, but just as you take a step on the crunching gravel, you spot someone over by the water. To say you almost tripped over yourself to get to them wouldn’t be an understatement; you almost bite the dust before you were able to catch your balance.

After regaining your stability and taking a second look, you realize with no small amount of shock that the man appears to not only be petting a deer but also… talking to it? You can hear the voice he uses on it, soft, soothing tones, clearly offering comfort of some kind. Whatever he is doing must be working, because the deer slowly stops thrashing about, it’s squeaking cries slowly dissipating as it seems to melt back into a state of calm.

Even though his back is towards you, he seems to sense your presence, because there’s an underlying tenseness in his body posture. Once the deer doesn’t seem too anxious anymore, he says, without so much as turning around, “I know you’re out there, at least do me the service of showing your face.”

“Um,” you say, after a moment unsure of what else to do, but introduce yourself, “hi. I’m very lost right now.”

When he doesn’t immediately respond, you wonder if he maybe was referencing some other person that is also hiding in the woods?

“I suspected,” he pets at a deer you hadn’t noticed prior, glancing up at you only after he manages to calm the creature down from its initial panic, “we don’t get a lot of your kind out this deep in the forest.”

“Er,” you look over at the deer, who seems to be regarding you with the utmost suspicion, “yeah, I wasn’t really planning on coming this deep into the forest, either. But, like, if you could point me in the direction of the parking lot, or literally any major highway, that would be absolutely fantastic.”

It takes you a moment to realize that he’s a massive, as in, you knew he was large for a man when you approached him, but you’re just now processing it all. He very well could be some kind of action movie star, his muscles, face shape, and stature all suggest that he’s very, very important, and you should pay attention to everything he says. As you watch him, he seems to look upwards at the sky, brow furrowed as though doing many mental calculations, then sighs.

“You won’t be able to leave this pocket of the forest until morning,” he says, releasing his steady hand on the deer’s flank.

“Um, what?” You aren’t sure if you heard him correctly, but you’re pretty certain he did not tell you that you can’t leave. “How is that even supposed to work? I came in through the main trail, surely there’s a way back.”

“Not once the sun is no longer in the sky.” He picks up a stick from the nearby banks, and now you realize that while his lower half is in the water, it’s not… it’s not human colors, more like… a kaleidoscope of some kind? Like he’s wearing those fancy mermaid tails, the kind you can buy off the internet, except what reason could he possibly have to wear one in the middle of a forest? “You will have to wait for night to run its course before you can return.”

“No, I’m pretty sure that’s not how basic geography works,” you say, tensing at the thought of spending however many hours the sun is gone out in the wilderness.

“It has nothing to do with basic geography, and you will do well to heed my words,” the man almost snaps, only marginally restraining himself from sounding rude. “This part of the forest encloses once the sun sinks below the horizon, and opens when it returns. It is this way to protect what little of Gaia’s children are left from your kind.”

You swallow nervously, not believing him in the slightest, so you think over your options in the meantime. There isn’t a lot for you to work with, your phone has no signal, and using your flashlight will eat up the battery fast than you might be able to find your way back to the main trail. Still, you’d rather be apart from him, even though he hasn’t given you any weird vibes beyond the obvious, you don’t want to be stuck here with him overnight.

So you do what you think is best, turning around and heading back for the trail, except there isn’t any trail. And by that, even though you were just walking on a gravel pathway barely more than five minutes ago, and you know it was in this direction, it’s nowhere to be found. Sucking in your breath, you close your eyes and count to ten, then whirl around and march back to where the man still lounges, halfway in the stream.

Trying to keep your voice from wobbling, you ask, “can you please point me to the regular trail? I think I… um, misplaced it.”

He pokes the water with the stick without looking at you, “you won’t find it until sunrise.”

Swallowing thickly, you try to say without trembling, “I don’t understand.”

With a sigh, he turns to the sandy banks, using the stick to draw a rudimentary chart, and in the dying light of dusk, you can manage to make out what he’s trying to convey. “This is the land of Gaia,” he draws out a circle, “which is the world you are familiar with. It is the physical plane at its most fundamental levels, meat and bone and blood grow and churn within the earth mother and her offspring. This land- this forest, is not a part of Gaia’s form,” here, her draws another bubble, halfway in the larger circle, halfway out, “halfway physical, but able to separate as it needs to. Do you understand?”

“Not really,” you say, trying to be truthful, and still just as anxious and frightened as ever.

He lets out a frustrated breath and tries to reiterate, “this separate pocket of world that can be hidden away or entirely separated on its own, and closes itself off once the sun sets. You must have stumbled over the boundaries while you were wandering, did you end up seeming to go around in circles on paths that don’t make any sense?”

Oh, god. “I- yes.”

“Exactly what I thought.” There’s a shimmering glimmer in your periphery, and you realize that his lower half is, in fact, a tail. “I’m sorry to inform you that you’re just going to be stuck here overnight.”

You feel absolutely defeated, miserable, broken, because how the hell are you supposed to be handling this now? Apparently, you’re trapped in some sort of fucking pocket dimension, and you can’t do anything about it, and the only other person here to help you is some sort of merman who seems less than pleased to be in your presence.

“So I just… wait here?” You’re doing your best to not cry, goddamnit. No fucking tears. In the meantime, you’re digging around your backpack for your can of bear spray, of which should completely wreck the man should he try to make the wrong move.

“I suppose,” he softens, just a bit, “you can stay here with me, because there are things roaming these woods that wouldn’t dare approach you so long as I am here.”

Oh, wonderful. “That would be nice,” you mumble, plopping yourself onto a rock, folding your legs up and making yourself seem small.

The woods are never really silent, so even though the two of you share no conversation, there is a background filled to the brim with dozens of different noises. Nocturnal creatures begin to creep out of their homes, an owl hooting just close enough for you to make out its specific call, crickets still chirping despite the descent of the sun, and the crunching of stray twigs and leaves upon the ground suggests a silent stalker. You’re suddenly thrilled to have accepted this odd man’s offer to stay by his side for the night.

The stars blink down, twinkling in the sky, almost like each individual eyes staring down at you from above. You remember that Ancient Greeks believe that each cluster used to be a living thing- Caster and Pollux, Cassiopea, Orion, and so on, people who died and then ascended into the sky to watch the earth below. You wonder if they are like guardians, keeping the inhabitants of the ground safe from anything that lurks in the depths of the void above, or if they are merely passing observers to whatever happens around them, trapped in time.

“So,” you swallow almost painfully, trying to make some conversation, “how do you know so much about the way this, um, pocket dimension thing works?”

“I told you that Gaia herself is protecting her children,” he says, not impatiently, nor unkindly. “The last effort to keep Prometheus’ biggest mistake at bay.”

“Right, of course,” you say, not believing him in the very slightest. “And you live here, then? With the blessings of Gaia?”

“Of course,” he says it like there’s no other possibility, “she looks after her children.”

“And I’m just a spawn of Prometheus?” You say it with some amount of humor, poking at his weird explanations, but he takes it seriously.

“Even if there are those here who would have you killed, just to chew your bones between their teeth and taste your blood. I will not allow that to happen.”

“Oh,” you say, trying not to sound awkward about it, “thank you.”

Silence follows, and you hear some crunching of leaves accompanying the water trickling through its creek. Still, you’d rather not spend the night in awkward silence, so you chew your bottom lip and try to quickly come up with something else to talk about. Anything. You wonder if he might know about modern devices, or if he would even care, but you need to reassure yourself now that it’s too dark to see that he’s still there.

As though reading your thoughts, he speaks first. “Tell me about your home.”

Relief fills your veins, so you do. You spill your guts like you’re at a confessional and it’s your death day, opening up every single crevice of your life back in reality and letting it pour out of your mouth like a broken dam. Where you were born, where you lived, where you moved, school, the people who went to school, friends, families, enemies. Not necessarily in that order, the night goes so shockingly fast that you barely keep track of what you’ve already said. You tell him about cities, about corporations, about countries, about charities. Humanity at both its best and its worst, and even what happens in between.

He’s a good listener, too, offering questions here and there, following your train of thought even though sometimes it doesn’t even make sense to you. He seems to be able to pick up on any gaps of logic you’ve forgotten to say, asking for clarification on some things, wishing for more detail on others, even requesting information about kingdoms you know haven’t existed for hundreds of years. And… better yet, he seems to enjoy talking to you.

“So,” you say, putting on your jacket to fight the biting night chill, “does this part of the forest happen every single night?”

“Yes,” he says, and you may be imagining it, but you think there might be some kind of tone of relief in his voice. “Yes, the forests merge every day, only to part during the night.”

“Theoretically, then,” you fan your fingers out, folding them together, “I could come back. To… like, visit, or something.”

“If you wanted to, then yes, you most certainly could.”

You close your eyes tight, shutting out the stars and the moon. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to impose or anything, but like, if you’d want to know more about the modern human world, I could come back prepared. With like, an iPad and a PowerPoint ready.”

“Would you?” He sounds a bit mystified, and you realize you probably didn’t cover those two things during your talks. As he mulls it over, the first element of daytime bashfully pokes out from the trees, the sky lighting just enough to swallow up the stars.

“If you wanted my company.”

“Yes,” he says very firmly, “you’re…. Fascinating, a very fascinating specimen of your species. I do not sense any bloodlust that I’ve heard is so very common in your kind.”

That’s the nicest thing he’s said about you, and you find your chest thundering in response. “Tha-thank you, I guess.”

“And I would also like to see this iPad and PowerPoint.”

You feel your cheeks redden slightly. “Okay. It’s a deal.”

[zmediaoutlet]

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.

[athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit]

Of Ice and Blood

Part 5

Look who's back with a 5k+ word count chapter?! Me!

I was planning on posting 1k+ at a time but stuff happened and I'm posting it all at once!

Enjoy and I'd appreciate it dearly if you reblog! Thank you!

Edit: Reached the 250 block limit so... The inevitable decision had to be made! Part 5 has a total of 3.42k words! The rest will be in a separate post <3

Pairing: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Human OC/Reader)

Warnings: Cursing, Violence, brief mentions of blood and injury.

Overall SFW (but 16+ for language)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4 Part 6

*

The walk back to the school building was quiet.

Or so I thought.

Because it wasn't. At all.

Whispers, mutterings, echoed from the rooms as we passed by.

Are they doing it on purpose, or is my hearing sharper than usual?

"Hey look it's that girl."

"You mean the freak who sat beside the orc—"

"First day of school and someone already got killed. Should've expected him to be a savage."

"You think she wears a mask to hide her identity? Maybe she's a criminal-"

Probably the latter.

I shrugged. There stood a decent amount of distance between us anyway. So it's likely my hearing.

Students were watching us with weird suspecting eyes from a distance behind the windows. Sensing apprehension and outward hate when they saw Tai'chi next to me, his face in a neutral expression. But with my nose at this proximity, he smells pretty annoyed.

Just— why are there so many people,— humans–garnering these feelings towards someone they don't even know! And to even mock him like that! How dare —

"Pearl," Tai'chi called. His rich voice resonating, making the gossips of the students stop for a brief moment before they continued. Most likely slandering my name now. I didn't know I was standing still. Looking up, Tai'chi was a decent 9 meters away, with the staff members further ahead of him. He gave me a wondering look, worry along with his natural fragrance, drifted through me, carried by air.

I straightened up and took long strides, Tai'chi beside me, to catch up with them.

"Yeah, just thinking. I'm okay." Replying, not looking up to him. He didn't ask, but I felt like he would.

************short pov shift************

He was a bit bothered by the change in your scent and looked back when he noticed you weren't beside him anymore. There you were, standing in the middle of the wide hallway, brows scrunched up in aggravation.

He called out to you, probably a little louder than he meant to, but you looked up and hastily made your way beside him, both of you catching up to the rest towards the dean's office. He didn't ask, but you answered, only making him worry even more.

**********first person pov**************

As soon as we entered the main office of the center building, we were greeted with the sight of the dean and David, together with Miss Holson. He was a white fat man, though a bit taller than me, wearing a light grey suit with a few buttons open revealing a white undershirt, and a silly yellow, violet polka dot tie. I barely held back from snorting at the sight.

Mr. Silverstone was fussing over his son, his voice raised in slight panic was heard by everyone.

They went ahead of us then.

"My son! My dear, dear David! Who did this to you?!" he cried out. Once David, that son of a bitch, spotted me, he flashed me that blasted grin of his. He was acting, pretending to be hurt.

I hardly even left a scratch on him for fuck's sake. How I regret not punching him straight in the face.

Reverting to his fake, frightened, and miserable state, he pointed at me. "I-I-It's her father! She is the one who attacked me! Along with that thing with her."

Thing?! That sick bastard!

The dean whipped his head in my direction, eyes scanning me up and down before he diverted them to Tai'chi.

Well, it seems I'll ve packing up sooner than I thought.

My shoulders sagged.

Some professors were alarmed by this, frantically pushing forward to grab his attention.

"Mr. Silverstone, we still do not know what's for certain. We must interrogate them properly and listen to each of their sides before we make a decision." Mr. Dulrik asserted, his voice strained and close to animosity. He was not pleased with what the student had said.

The elder professor from earlier followed up.

"Listen to Mr. Dulrik, sir. We cannot take any risks and ju—"

"Silence!" the dean shouted. "I will not hear your reasoning. My son has told me everything I need to know. Miss Holson supported his claims and that's enough to decide what to do with these criminals."

Criminals?!

"The girl and that orc shall be expelled from this institution immediately. We do not need any murderers or barbarians here. I have always suspected why that Ernestine brat even allowed these monstrosities to be with us. To breathe the same air and walk the same land as we do, endangering our safety no less! A pathetic excuse of a founder she is! If it were me I would've—"

"You would've what?" Words came out before I stopped myself, my voice low, but it was heard still, drawing their attention to me.

"What did you just say?" He demanded, his anger slipping out more. The room was silent, except for the subtle ticking of the wall clock behind me, and the movement of air around us.

I lifted my head and looked at him dead in the eye. "You would've what?" This time, I replied, louder.

Before he could retort I went on, emotion fueling my words as I advanced with every question asked.

"Would've banned every single, non-human race from the university?

"Would've taught every human that they are greater beings and the ones that were different were meant to be stepped on?

"Would've ordered and tolerated bullying on anyone who was unnatural and weird looking?

"Would've put them in their place?

Isolate them? Degrade them? Despise them for being alive?" No-one stopped me as I approached him, the teachers separating and making way. Even Mr. Dulrik was regarding me curiously.

I scoffed. " 'If it were me' you said. You think I wouldn't notice how everyone else, that isn't human, was oppressed and treated like shit in this school? It seems to me that you already did what you would've done, didn't you? You are no dean, you are a clown, a pillock, a dumbass, and you call yourself human? You are more monster than any of us in this room."

I breathed heavily as I stood a couple of feet in front of him. His face grew to a crimson hue, my ears catching the sound of smoke seething out of him. At the back, David and Miss Holson were dumbfounded, shocked into place, shaken like ugly statues.

Finally, the dean spoke, his fists clenching hard as he faced me, almost drawing blood.

I am so gonna beat him up. Hell yeah, I will.

"Keep out of trouble if you can." Well, shit happened Mama, forgive me.

"How dare you speak to me like that! I, a pure-blood Silverstone, a line of royalty! If we were still at war I would've had you executed from where you stand—"

"How about you do it yourself then, oh mighty Silverstone jerk?" I mocked and gave a toothy smile, then I remembered he wouldn't see it. That was all it took to have him launching himself at me, the professors running to the sides to avoid his wrath.

His hands were balled tight, a fist aiming for my face, eyes filled with deadly intent.

Oh, he really wants to kill me.

Before it connected, I sidestepped, causing him to stumble forward. Even so, he immediately regained his balance and reached to grab my hoodie. I didn't dodge this time, but before he touched me, I used my right hand to slap it away. With my other hand, fitted with my crimson knuckle dusters, I met his fist with mine. Almost instantly, he stumbled back and crouched down, his left hand holding his bloodied one.

"You bitch!!!" he screamed in agony.

I think I broke his hand.

I glanced to my brass knuckles, some of the blood covering them, merely visible because of its color.

Shattered it perhaps.

"I will have you killed you insolent brat! I'll kill you!" he cursed.

"Now, now, Silverstone, you will do no such thing." A feminine voice cut through the large room. We all turned to the door to see a slim, tall, tanned woman who seemed to be in her 40s, her slightly wrinkled face showing it. She was wearing a black high-waist pencil skirt paired with a black one-button suit and a baby blue undershirt. The lady also wore classic white loafers and white hand gloves made of leather, with her ebony hair tied up in a bun.

Everything about her screams 'important'. I scented an intimidating yet reassuring aura around her.

I met her eyes and a sense of familiarity fell upon me. I know her and I've seen her before.

Wait. Could it be— she's—

"Madame Ernestine!" A professor exclaimed.

That means she's, "The founder," I said out loud.

She began sauntering in my direction, each step clicking on the floor, carrying herself with grace.

"M-Ma-Madame Ernestine!" The dean, shrieked as he stood up, shaking, his busted hand in his chest, his back facing me. "I didn't expect you to visit this year! We could've prepared for your arrival—"

"You shut your mouth now Welmir." She spoke out, her voice firm and borderline hostile. "I've had enough of your blabbering mug. I made it so that my arrival is unexpected. Leaving my outside duties rather early and rushed this year when news got to me that you, the dean, were neglecting your duties, or so, doing it wrong. Not to mention I had my assistant install extra cameras in... certain places last year and because of that, I saw what you did in the shadows. Maybe not all, but it confirmed my suspicions of you, and so," She clapped her together, "I decided to visit you today. And what a surprise it was to see you get beaten up by this lovely young lady behind you."

Me?! Lovely—

My face warmed from her comment.

"Listen here, brat." he regarded the founder. The founder. "I do not know what you are talking about. I have done my duties and more for this university. I made it so that everyone here is safe and this girl,"— he spat— "harmed me, my precious son, and his friends!"

"And all of you deserved it, severely," she responded flatly. "You put my dear students at risk and antagonized them with your schemes, tolerating the behavior of treating other races like animals, disrespecting even the professors who are different in kind," she glanced at Mr. Dulrik and the others. "You even forced a minotaur, an elf, and a dwarven student to act the part of being in a student council, hoping people wouldn't notice the crimes you did behind our backs. Did you expect me to turn blind eye to this?"

It was all pretend?!

The mere thought of what he did to threaten them to it makes me wanna puke.

"I am furious, Welmir Silverstone. To think I believed you'd change your ways after my father's death with the renovation of the institute. Trusted you to do your job as dean and make the students comfortable, welcomed. But, no. You chose to follow his footsteps, became selfish, blinded by greed and pointless hate. You are a disappointment to all of us."

I smelled her rage under that near non-expressive facade of hers. It was spicy, like fire having an odor of its own.

"You are but a child! You know nothing of this world! This world of ours needs to be purged off of those rats. You cannot tell me what to do!" He yelled as he brought up his uninjured hand to hit her. I was about to step in when Madame Ernestine grabbed his arm and threw a right uppercut, blood spilling out of his jaw. The punch sent him a few steps back, he would have landed on me if I didn't move out of the way before he collapsed on the floor groaning and holding his mouth.

Ooh she's strong! Nice! I grinned.

"You are hereby stripped off of your job as dean along with all of your titles, properties, and henceforth banished from these grounds, together with your son and Emma Holson, whom I found out laid with him, and the abusive acts they had engaged in." Her words laced with poison, disgust and anger as she gave the final judgement.

"Never show yourselves. Ever. Again," she spat. "Take them away."

Out of nowhere, men in black suits came in and apprehended the young instructor, who twisted her heel trying to escape. She yelled at them to let her go, saying she has done nothing wrong. David, the bastard, was held in place by one of them as he struggled in their grasp. The dean— or should I say, Mr. Silverstone, in pain and bleeding, was dragged up by two others and headed straight out of the door. He shouted ;

"Mark my words, brat! I will—"

And the door slammed close.

With my gaze following them, my eyes landed on Tai'chi. I took off my dusters and waved, tucking them back up my sleeve.

He is smiling! And oh wow he's damn gorgeous— wait what?

My attention was drawn away to the lady in front of me. I got distracted by Tai'chi that I almost forgot about her.

"Oh my God I uhm— hello Madame Ernestine." I took one step back before bowing. "It's an honor to meet you. I—"

"Oh dear, please raise your head. No need for such formal gestures. I am Valerie Ernestine, founder of the new Ernestine State University." She stated as she beamed at me.

"I uh- Yes ma'am I know of you. I'm quite a fan actually— I mean! My name is Pearl Blackbell, ma'am."

Oh God, that sounded so stupid.

Then she hugged me.

"Ma'am?!" I squeaked. My arms went stiff, nervous to even touch her. Before I could, she pulled back, a gentle expression on her face.

"Nice to meet you, Pearl Blackbell."

"I- nice to meet you too Ma'am Ernestine!" I stammered, praying my face and ears isn't as red as I feel them to be.

"Please, call me Valerie."

"Ma'am Valerie."

"Just Valerie, dear."

"I'm so sorry ma'am but I can't— my mother will hit me in the head with a frying pan if I forget my manners."

"Very well, then. It brings me joy that you were raised properly by your parents."

"Thank you ma'am, I really am happy to have them, and I only hope for them to be proud of me— oh wait. Uh, ma'am Valerie?"

"Yes?"

"Am I gonna get punished or expelled?" I shrunk, expecting the worst.

"Why ever did you think of that?"

"W-Well you see, I did harm uh, students and they're probably in the infirmary right now and—"

"Oh, Pearl, no." She let out a light chuckle. "You won't be punished or even expelled for that! In fact, I saw how you defended yourself and your friend from them. They did attack you first, sweetie. And what you did was impressive!" She clapped her hands. As I stood there in relief, I couldn't help but shot up when the words sank in.

"Oh, thank you. But how...?"

"Apparently, I had my assistant install some cameras in the forest area for particular reasons. I watched you from the monitor as I made my way here," she replied.

"Oh. Oh, wow. That's actually pretty awesome," I sighed.

"Indeed, it is," she smiled. "Excuse me for a bit."

******pov shift to 2nd person (two characters)*****

Madame Ernestine turned and walked towards the remaining teachers to talk about important matters at hand.

"Greetings, my friends." She beamed at the staff and looked at Professor Dulrik and the woman who supported him earlier. "Hello, Roldo and Amila. I have missed you dearly." She bent down to hug the two of them before she went on. "I apologize for not taking action immediately. To think he did this to all of you right under my nose! Why didn't you contact me Roldo?"

"My apologies, Madame Ernestine. I didn't have any proof to show his plot against you and the others. He was very elusive and kept us very busy in our own offices for the past year with you away. That was until today, with the young lady over there standing up against his son, he snapped."

"It really is a good thing she came here, didn't she?" she whispered.

"Indeed, Madame," Amila replied.

There was a brief silence, before Valerie spoke up again. Her gaze locked at the dwarven professor.

"Roldo, my old friend, I want you to take your place as the new dean of this university. I trust you to do your duty a hundred percent better than that impudent man ever did. Will you accept this responsibility?"

"I- Valerie this is-"

"Roldo, you are wise and have seen things most of us here have not. I will not force you on something you do not want, but I put my faith in you, to help me, along with the rest of the staff, to teach everyone here that all of us stand in equal ground, and that we must respect and acknowledge each individual, regardless of their kind. No one, no student, should ever feel uncomfortable in this haven of mine."

"I understand, Valerie." The dwarf took a deep breath and vowed;

"I, Roldo Dulrik, son of Grol II, son of Frerin, accept the responsibilities given to me as dean of Ernestine State University. I will do my duty to the best of my abilities, and remain loyal to you and to this institution." He responded as he thumped his right fist against his chest.

"I know you will, my friend." Valerie grinned at him, her eyes full of trust and hope.

While they were occupied with discussing certain issues, you tried to sneak away, only to be called back by Madame Ernestine.

"Pearl, my dear."

"Yes ma'am?"

"Thank you."

She had a soft smile, emotions clear on her face, directed at you. The founder, Valerie was thanking you for your bravery, kindness and overall honesty. You simply nodded and grinned from ear to ear behind your mask. You were, however, suddenly nervous when Valerie and the two professors approached you. No, actually, all of them were, but the others are heading out of the office, perhaps to go back to their respective classrooms and start working, they gave their thanks as they went out.

"Pearl Blackbell, a wonderful name!" Professor Dulrik remarked. "May the Gods bless you and shine upon you in all your days," he grinned. Before you could reply, Professor Amila hugged you and whispered. "Thank you, for beating up those idiots," —which made you giggle— "It was the right thing to do, and also I had to defend myself. and thank you, Professor Dulrik."

"Nonsense, call me Professor Roldo, lass." He patted your shoulder as he went past you and out of the office, but not before he slapped Tai'chi's forearm.

"You best protect her if you can, lad. Even so, it is obvious she won't need protecting!" He laughed, and went on, quietly, as if whispering. "...Be her friend, my boy. Her eyes...they show the pain she had gone through. You saw that in her, didn't you?"

Tai'chi simply nodded in response. He knew what he meant.

"Then do what you must. If word ever comes to me that you hurt her, I will hunt you down with me battle axe hidden in my office, you hear?"

This time, he chuckled. "I hear you, Professor. I won't. I swear on the the name of my clan, no harm will befall on her." He told him, his voice firm and true.

"That's what I'm talking about, lad!" He replied as he finally exited the room.

Tai'chi shifted his gaze to you. You and the dean were still talking so he stood there, patiently.

"We best be on our way. We still have a number of things to set straight. We will see you around, Miss Blackbell. Don't get into trouble now." The founder giggled.

"I will try my best, ma'am."

"Oh sure you will, sweetie. Goodluck. And oh, the two of you should start going back. It's past lunchbreak afterall." She said as the two ladies sauntered past you and went out.

"Thank you, we will." You said, mostly to yourself.

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

Part 6 will be posted shortly! Like, shortly shortly. Like, an hour or so shortly. Stay tuned! Thank you for reaching this point uwu✨

Tags: @crackinanutshell @kokokatsworld @mitchiesdungeon <3

[linawritesocs]

🧥🌻🏡 for everyone! and 💘 for our new boys? :3c

ah yes, a romantic question!

🧥 "what’s their style like? do they put a lot of effort into what they wear?"

(also, this is like.. about what they wear outside of school uniforms)

avery: likes casual and comfortable clothes, doesn't really care for fashion. in fact, he prefers clothes that don't look that good or aren't that expensive, because he doesn't have to worry about accidentally getting dirt on them when he does gardening. but he does appreciate some cute sweaters or hoodies with flowers or animals on them.

vance: honestly, he should've been in pomefiore, because this guy has STYLE. likes unique and colorful clothes with cute prints. also likes oversized shirts and hoodies! he feels very comfy in them :) actually loves shopping, but doesn't really like doing it alone, so he'd take his big brother with him before he started going to nrc and now he takes someone from heartslabyul or someone different (ahem, bobbie) with him.

merrill: so if we're not talking about what he wears for his acc, he likes to wear elegant, but comfortable clothes. his clothes are usually dark-colored, like dark purple or dark blue. he obviously puts a lot of effort into what he wears and he spends a lot of time deciding what he will wear today.

allen: this guy just needs to wear everything warm and soft. lots of sweaters, hoodies, all of that. would love to wear something lighter, but he can't because he'll get cold immediately. so he wants to make this situation at least a little bit better and his clothes are always very cute and usually in pastel colors!

roland: i have to say this. outside of rsa, roland dresses up like AN ACTUAL DAD. like this isn't what a teenage boy would wear, this is what someone's dad would wear to his child's football game. also lots of hawaiian shirts, so yes, he's rocking that vacation dad aesthetic. when asked why he dresses up like that, he says that this is just what he feels most comfortable in.

jay: fake! jay dresses like an absolute gentleman that he is! pretty suits, always looks very proper and elegant! but he doesn't actually feel so good dressing up like that and he'd love to wear more casual clothes at least once. but he has a reputation to protect and he doesn't want other people to judge him, so.. yeah :( real! jay meanwhile has only ONE outfit which is a yellow hoodie and blue jeans and he wears it all the time, because he didn't bring any other clothes with him when he ran away from home. would love to have more clothes, but he has no money, so he either has to suffer or borrow clothes from others.

austin: likes denim stuff, like denim jackets or jeans and he likes to wear overalls and oversized shirts. also loves clothes with many pockets! pockets are important to him! he likes clothes that is both comfortable and stylish, but if he had to choose, then it would be comfort over fashion.

🌻 "do people generally tend to like them? what personality traits do they have that draw others in?"

avery: people don't like him. at all. at first they like him for his appearance but once they find out about his personality, which happens pretty quickly, they forget about what they thought of him a minute ago and leave him.

vance: most people think that he's kinda weird, but they also can't help but think that he's adorable. vance can easily get what he wants from them because of how cute he is and it makes people want to protect him.

merrill: people think that he's intimidating, so they don't really want to do anything with him, but man.. is he pretty. people think he's very attractive, so if he flirts with them or even simply looks at them, their hearts will beat much faster than before.

allen: he's not liked by rsa students, but if they make sure avery knows how much they hate him, they're a lot more quiet with allen, because 1) they don't want to mess with allen and make him mad and 2) he's rich. and he has connections. lots of them. so yeah, they probably shouldn't get on his bad side. if someone gets to know more about allen, they might start liking him because of how cheerful and creative he is.

roland: like with vance, people think that he's weird and it doesn't help that there are rumors about him being an ex-nrc student. so rsa students don't really want to be friends with him or join his club. but what might draw a person in is roland's caring nature and his kindness.. and also his desire to please everyone around him.

jay: people generally don't mind fake! jay's company, but they find him kinda funny because of how clumsy he is and because he often tends to forget about his surroundings. and why does he keep hanging out with allen? aren't they too different for that? the real! jay on the other hand.. people don't even know about him existing. well, at least rsa students don't know about him. but they would definitely judge him for everything he does.

austin: well, he's not really liked, but people can't deny that he's talented and helpful, so yeah, they try to at least treat him with respect. and he's also smart, so that also helps his reputation. if only it wasn't for his personality..

🏡 "where do they live? do they have a house to themselves or do they live with somebody, or something else?"

avery: used to live with his parents and little sister in a nice and cute little house with many colorful flowers around it before he went to rsa.

vance: lived with his parents, big brother and grandfather before he started going to nrc. his house is much bigger than avery's, but it's less noticeable because of how.. boring it looks like. the colors are dark, they don't catch anyone's attention, the house is just standing there. vance never liked how his house looks.

merrill: lived with his parents in a very small house that looked awful. when other people found out that a child lives there, they felt sorry for him. his parents couldn't afford a better house, so they had to live there, but they also were lazy, they didn't like to do chores and didn't care about the house that much, so it only made the house look worse.

allen: lived in a huge mansion with his parents and some other people, like maids and butlers, his nanny and others. despite having people to talk to there, he felt extremely lonely, because they were so nice to him, it was obvious that they were faking it and were just being polite.

roland: lived with his parents in a normal and average-looking house, but it had some flowers around, like avery's one.

jay: like allen, his family owned a mansion back in shaftlands, but when they moved to sunset savanna, they settled for a much smaller house and they actually liked it more. jay was born there and he lived in that house with his parents and big sister.

austin: lived in a small house with his parents, big sister, little brother and a cat. it was too small for his big family, yes, but they didn't mind it and liked their house a lot.

💘 "do they ever get crushes? what do they do when they have feelings for someone?"

roland: honestly, i feel like he would CRY when he realizes that he has a crush on someone. he doesn't want to hurt that person, he doesn't want to face his past self. but he's also so.. so in love with that person? he can't let anyone take them away from him. but if he tries to make them fall in love with him, it will just prove that he never actually changed. so he will just suffer in silence and if that person tells him that they have fallen for someone, he will try to give them the brightest smile that he can give at that moment and support them. but he may or may not end up hurting that person's crush.

jay: fake! jay does get crushes! but he doesn't know what to do about them?? he doesn't know what to do with those feelings, should he tell that person about them? he's too shy to do that, but he will continue to try and get that person's attention. also will try to impress them with his knowledge! the real! jay gets crushes too, but he's more hopeless. he has no idea what to do, he panics whenever he sees his crush and tries to hide. but also he may start asking them for more attention, will hug them more often and will spend more time with them.

austin: okay, he gotta keep it cool. gotta keep it co- wait, his crush is so cute?? what is he supposed to do about it?? like fake! jay, he tries to impress them with his skills and knowledge and if they ask him for help, he totally will do it and they don't have to beg or pay him. he also will become more open around them, he'll talk more about his favorite anime, cats and other things he likes. he also smiles more often when they're around.

[gothgirlmahi]

Wallflower Chapter 1

New series!

Bucky x Reader

Summary: You meet a man at a party neither of you wants to be at.

Warnings: Smut

You weren’t even supposed to be here.

Your boss dragged you here when his boyfriend bailed last minute. He really wasn’t even invited, he was just a journalist. The only reason you went was because he begged and begged and—

“Please please please I can’t go alone, I’ll owe you, I swear.” Having someone like Carter owe you sounded good so you prettied yourself up and you both got into an Uber to Avengers Tower for a fundraiser. Higher ups wanted Carter to cover it himself and, if possible, get an interview with Tony Stark. Considering your line of work, you knew Tony Stark wasn’t exactly amiable to every reporter so you wished him luck.

You walked into a room full of flashing lights, rich people meandering around wearing their best, and waiters carrying around foods you couldn’t even identify. Pretentious snobs. Definitely not your crowd. You knew you probably stuck out a bit. Even wearing the best dress you owned, you couldn’t compete with some of these people. You supposed it didn’t matter because you weren’t one of these people and it was only one night.

Carter tapped you on the shoulder and pointed further in the room. At the center of a crowd of people was Tony Stark himself, smirking and obviously trying to get out of the crowd.

“Oof. I’ve handled bigger crowds for lesser celebrities. Time to start elbowing.” Carter ran off on his mission, quite literally leaving you in the middle of a room with nothing to do. You don’t know what you expected, but it wasn’t this.

Cutting through the rest of the crowd was easy enough as you made your way to a spot that wasn’t as busy. The bar looked enticing but it seemed too early to start drinking so you propped yourself against the wall and started scrolling through your phone.

Something in the corner of your eye caught your attention. A quick peek over revealed a man leaning on the wall a few yards away. Handsome. Thick hair that rested just above his shoulders. Brooding. Hands in pockets. Scowl etched on his face.

Very interesting.

His gaze met yours. Even in the darkened room you could make out the color of his eyes. The steel blue flickered over your form briefly before returning his gaze to the ground. You shifted a bit closer to him, not close enough to be weird, but enough that he could hear you talk over the music.

A waiter walked by with a tray of some sort of food you couldn’t even identify. You sighed deeply, turning back to your silent friend.

“I would kill for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

You almost hit yourself. Would that joke even land with him? Well, it was hardly a joke, but still. He might have been a snob, too, or actually here of his own free will. Maybe he didn’t like peanut butter and jelly. Maybe he was allergic to peanuts. Not even an hour in and you were fucking up. You never were good at networking anyway. In the midst of beating yourself up, you saw the tiniest upward curve reach his lips. Those plump pink lips.

God, he was pretty.

It wasn’t fair. You were almost mad because his eyelashes were longer than yours and his hair was perfectly framing his shoulders while your own style seemed to be falling apart by the minute. He was obviously well put together, at least on the outside. He wasn’t dressed as fancy as some of the others, but his physique more than made up for it. Just a plain but elegant blazer, dress shirt and some straight legged dress pants.

He was your only interest in the crowded room and you wanted to make him smile again. You slid closer until you were about four feet apart.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?” you asked him.

That was bad. So bad it was good. It was a line you liked to use. Usually went okay. He exhaled, holding back a laugh with a gorgeous smirk on his face.

“I bet you say that to all the fellas.”

His voice was low and gruff, like he didn’t use it often, but warm with mirth. You gave him a wink.

“Just the cute ones. But really, what brings you here?”

He looked confused for a moment before giving a shrug.

“I’m an Avenger.”

You took a better look at him and your heart nearly stopped. The long hair, minimal talking, and general angst emanating from him threw you. Was that James Barnes? Did you just try a pickup line on the goddamn Winter Soldier? You had called the Winter Soldier a pretty little thing. He was, but that wasn’t something you just came out and said. Your big mouth was always getting you in trouble.

This was the same man you learned about in school. Or would have learned about if you had been paying attention. It took everything in you not to outwardly cringe.

“Sergeant Barnes, I am so sorry. I did not recognize you. It’s dark in here, I’m not a weirdo. I mean, maybe a little, but I’m not some kind of—I’m rambling, sorry for that, too. Jesus, fuck, I’m gonna shut up now.”

He laughed, a proper one this time. At your expense. You supposed if you were going to be a clown, he was as good an audience as any. Now seemed like a good time to curl up and never face the outside world again so you stepped off the wall, ready to leave and find a new spot.

“Hey, wait. I’m sorry for laughing. It’s just the face you made. I’m not a jerk, I swear. Geez, now I’m rambling. I’m Bucky.”

He held out his hand and you shook it firmly.

“Okay, Bucky, didn’t your mama ever teach you not to make fun of young ladies spilling their hearts out to you?”

He straightened up with a faux serious face.

“You’re right. My ma would kill me. It’s not like I have too many ladies spilling their hearts to me, though, so call me out of practice.”

“Hard to believe. Look over there,” you gestured to a woman eyeing him, “red dress wants you bad.” Bucky didn’t even look at the woman, just shook his head. You gave him your name, trying to be polite and get introductions out of the way. He didn’t seem like much of a talker but that was okay because you talked too much. Especially when you were nervous.

While you were contemplating possible escape routes, he asked why you were here.

“Boss dragged me here. Needed a date. Sounds like an HR disaster, right? He’s a journalist. Well, we both are I guess, but I don’t cover things like this. He wants to cover this whole ‘Tony Stark raising money for the kids’ thing but these days I’m more like ‘what kind of bread are you based on your zodiac sign?’”

“I think I’m a Pisces?”

“You’re a sturdy looking fella, I think you’re rye.”

“That’s what journalism is these days?”

“I used to do political stuff and it quite literally depressed me because everyone is awful all the time. So I hopped companies and ended up with my current gig.”

You could barely remember how you ended up leaving the room with him.

Let it be known that you were not a fan of one night stands. The idea of sharing bodily fluids with absolute strangers triggered your fight or flight response. But somehow, you were able to make an exception for Bucky Barnes as you all fumbled into the elevator and out into his darkened room.

The reason you were here was forgotten as soon as Bucky had his hands on you. Roaming around and exploring what made you tick. He seemed apprehensive about using his metal arm to touch you so you pulled it forward to join the other one. It was a welcome reprieve considering the rest of him was just so hot and the metal was so cool.

He used those same fingers to bring you over the edge twice before he got his mouth on you. The same mouth you were raving about earlier with those plump lips and a tongue that drove you crazy. A tongue that lashed against your most sensitive parts before his mouth came down and sucked hard, drawing agonizing moans from you.

He pulled away before you came again, face covered in you and gave you a winning smile. You didn’t return his grin, just further down until you were eye level with his twitching cock. Thick and begging for your lips wrapped around it. You couldn’t fit all of him in your mouth so you took what you could, hollowing your cheeks and sucking while your hand did the rest. His flesh arm came to rest gently in your hair as he bucked into your mouth, letting the smallest moans escape his lips. A peek up at him and his eyes were closed, head back as he savored the feeling of your mouth around him.

You pulled away and ran your tongue up the base of his cock. Bucky helped you to your feet and laid you across his bed. You laid there, legs open and waiting while he fished through his drawer for a condom.

When he finally pushed into you, you made a noise you didn’t even know you were capable of. There was just so much of him and you hadn’t gotten laid in a while. You ran your hands up and down his perfectly sculpted body. The bed creaked from the force of his thrusts.

The whole super soldier thing hadn’t really registered with you until now. He took you like no other man ever had.

In the aftermath of your sexcapades, the two of you were laid back on the bed, just trying to catch your breath. You glanced over at Bucky and smiled. He gave you a shy smile and looked down, making you giggle a bit.

Then your phone rang. The momentary bliss was over as you reached for your purse on the floor and answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Did you leave me?!” Carter.

“No, no! I’m still here, I’ll come find you. Did you get the interview?” you asked.

“Yes! And I had to go through Natasha Romanoff to get it and nearly pissed myself so I am ready to leave!”

“Okay, just wait in the lobby for me. I’ll be down soon.”

When you hung up, you looked back at Bucky.

“I gotta go,” you said regretfully. He nodded.

“Your boss looking for you?”

“Yup,” you stood up, looking around for your clothes and Bucky did the same. When the two of you were dressed, he decided to walk you out.

Before you could hit the button for the elevator, Bucky was calling your name.

“I think I did this sorta backwards, but I have to ask. Could I get your number? I’d like to take you out sometime. If you want that, of course. You don’t have to—“

Your jaw nearly dropped to the floor.

“Of course!” You probably said it a little too quickly but he didn’t look deterred. He handed you his phone and you entered your contact info happily. When you gave his phone back, he tuned it in his pocket, leaving both of you to stare at each other.

Seeing him in the bright light of the hallway was honestly stunning. He was extremely attractive. And he had asked you out! Well, he asked for your number to ask you out. Either way, you were happy.

He pressed a kiss to your cheek and you tsked at him.

“A kiss on the cheek? You’re shy all of a sudden, that’s adorable.”

“You wanted something else?” he asked playfully. You shrugged, giving him a dopey smile.

“Maybe I—“

Your phone buzzed.

“Go get back to your boss. I’ll call you tomorrow,” Bucky said, pressing the button for the elevator. Before the doors opened, he pulled you in for a hug and pressed a kiss to your lips. You kissed him once more before hopping in the elevator.

On the way down you did a little happy dance.

This was absolutely a good day for you.

As soon as you stepped out, Carter ran over to you, cheeks flushed and his dark hair messy.

“I was so scared—wait, what happened to your hair? What have you been up to? Did you—“

“Uh. We have work in the morning. Let’s go.”

“You left with...someone while I was in there risking my life. If I wasn’t so impressed I would be mad, but you’re right, let’s go.”

“You’re being dramatic. Natasha Romanoff wouldn’t hurt you. In public.”

“You don’t know that!”

....

Masterlist // Chapter 2

[psychedellic-phase]

Fifteen (pt 9)

A/N: it’s reader backstory time! This part also includes season 6 spoilers :) xx

word count: 4.0k 

tw: mentions of violence, abuse, cursing, other criminal minds stuff!

masterlist:

The beginning of letter #8 was scribbled out, like you’d written but decided the words weren’t quite right. Spencer tried to look through the black ink lines to see what you wrote, but most of it was smudged from tears. 

“This was the night everything changed, Spencer. This was the beginning of the end, but at the time it just felt like the beginning. It was a little over a year ago, sorry for skipping some of the middle. I could’ve written a 5,000 page novel about every little moment I had with you. If I had the time, I would. I’d write about every date night, every bouquet of roses, every case you held my hand through. I thought about writing about a lot more of the ‘happy’ parts, but they would’ve just been fun, little, anecdotes and made my heart hurt more. I decided on only highlighting the important parts, not that the happy parts were unimportant. I think they may be the most important, they’re the only things that kept me going at the end. Those parts gave me hope that maybe one day we’d get back to those people. But we didn’t and those people are long gone. Now all the bad memories outweigh the good ones. I need you to see the ugly parts. I always showed you those, and you still told me they were beautiful in some way.  

“Everything is a masterpiece if you look at it in the right way” 

So here’s the ugly Spence, any clue how to make this beautiful? How do I make this a ‘masterpiece’? Because I don’t know. 

Before I start, I want you to put on some regular clothes and pack up the box and put it in your car. Remember how in the first letter I said you’d need to go somewhere? This is that letter. So get in your crappy car that brought us together and drive to the place where it all started to fall apart: Meridian Hill Park.”

Spencer stopped reading and did as you asked. He took the sweatshirt off and hung it in his closet in a place he’d see it everyday. He didn’t really own any ‘regular clothes’ so he ended up in slacks and a dress shirt, his version of regular. He grabbed the box and the last of the coffee in a to-go mug and got in the car. He slipped the disc from letter 2 in and listened to Stacy’s Mom on a low volume. Between that and the snow, he felt like you were right there with him. 

When he got to the park, he sat in his car for a moment and reopened the letter. 

“There? Good. The bench we sat at is next to the blue bird bath and under that huge oak tree. Go sit at it.”

Spencer got out of the car, now wearing a heavy wool coat and scarf, and made his way to that spot. After most of your dates you’d go for a stroll around that park and always end up at that exact bench. You’d talk for hours, or sometimes you’d people watch. Either way, that bench became another one of your places. He set the box down on his left, the spot where you usually sat, and kept reading.

“That particular night was in December, during that weird week in between Christmas and New Years when time doesn’t feel real and the world is almost at a stand still. (My favorite week of the year) I had begged you to go to the movies with me. I dragged you to see Frozen. 

“Frozen?” You said, crinkling your nose, “Out of all the movies?”

I laughed and told you that I needed to see it because Mia had and already loved it. I think I said something like, “If I’m going to be her cool Aunt we have to see it.”

And you agreed, because you’d do anything for me. You always would. So two thirty-somethings went to see a six o’clock showing of Frozen on a Tuesday. We looked ridiculous; your messenger bag was overflowing with snacks and we were the only people there without a child. 

I loved it though, and you did too. When the movie was over we sat in the lobby at a table and I finished my slurpee as you told me about the real story of Frozen. 

“It’s loosely based on ‘The Snow Queen’ by Hans Christian Andersen from 1845. They both have a snow Queen, reindeer, trolls, frozen hearts, and snow creatures, but that’s where the similarities end. In the original story there is a horrible magic mirror and,” You finally paused to breathe, “ROBBERS!”

I laughed, “Aren’t all fairytales actually awful? We’ve just disney-ified them for kids?”

You nodded, “Most fairy tales in their original form were gruesome to the extreme. In Cinderella, the step-sisters had their feet mutilated to fit into the shoe.”

I yawned, “That’s why I always stuck to Pixar.”

We laughed and threw away our million candy wrappers. As we were leaving I saw a photo booth, one of those old one’s like I went in with all my high school boyfriends. I pulled you over to it and you grimaced, “It’s a small space CRAWLING with germs Y/N!” you whined to me, “Do you know how many people have been in there?” 

I rolled my eyes, “It’ll take thirty seconds and I will sanitize after!”

I tugged your arm in and we both barely fit in the booth. You pulled me onto your lap and four poses later we had two photo strips covered in pictures of you kissing my cheek and us smiling. That’s your momento for this letter.”

Spencer reached in and grabbed the photo strip delicately between his fingers. It was one of those tacky ones that looked like a roll of film and all the pictures were in black and white. The first one was the two of you smiling as wide as you could, the second you stuck your tongue out and Spencer scrunched up his nose, for the third he kissed your cheek, and the last one you turned your head to meet him. His heart softened for a moment, remembering how soft and sweet your kisses were. They were usually delicate, like you were kissing the finest of china. Or they were intense, like you were drowning and he was coming up for air. He felt warm, despite the snow falling all around him. 

“This is my copy. We printed two. I don’t know where yours is, I just hope it isn’t in the trash. I know it’s another photograph; you just got one of those from JJ’s wedding.  But I love photographs. I have a million of you and I. I always used to shove my phone in your face and you’d block it with your hands. I haven’t been able to bring myself to delete them yet. I just love pictures. They capture moments, the good and the bad. Sometimes the only thing that can get the feelings across is a photo, so here’s four. 

I remember sticking them in my purse as we walked out of the theater hand in hand and found ourselves in this park. I love it when the cherry blossom’s bloom, but they weren’t blooming. We found our way to this exact bench that you’re sitting on right now. I think it has the best view of the fountain. You put your arm around me and I snuggled into you. You were trying to talk about work; something about Rossi and Gideon? I didn’t know. I was so tired, I couldn’t even focus. I remember just staring at the dry fountain; they turn it off when the weather gets too cold. 

“Don’t you agree?” You said, but I didn’t register it, “Y/N?”

I looked up at you and blinked a few times. I sat up and moved myself off of you, “What? Sorry about that I—“ my own yawn interrupted me, “I’m just really tired.”

You looked at me so concerned. Your pretty, honey brown eyes always could see right through me. 

“Tired? But we went to sleep at ten last night, you should’ve had at least seven hours.”

I just shrugged and you raised your eyebrows at me, waiting for me to spill. 

“I couldn’t fall asleep the last few nights.”

I avoided your prying gaze that felt red hot on my skin even in the freezing air and played with the locket around my neck, as I usually do when I’m nervous. 

“Y/N,” You said and grabbed my two hands to make me look at you. I looked you straight in the eyes. 

“Talk to me.”

I sighed, “No.”

“No?” You looked offended, I don’t blame you. 

“No,” I said plainly. It looked like I was picking a fight, but I wasn’t. I just wasn’t ready to tell you. It’s so weird, we had spent over two years together by then, and I still couldn’t tell you. I don’t know why. It wasn’t you. You make me feel comfortable and safe. I think talking about it made it more real for me, you know? And I just didn’t want it to be real. 

“Is it the nightmares? Are they back again?” 

I just nodded. Of course you knew, you always knew.

“Y/N, we’ve been through this. You have to talk about them.”

I groaned and you dropped my hands to run yours through your hair. Frustrated is how you felt in that moment, and I don’t blame you. I was mad at myself too. 

“I know! But can’t I just not want to talk about it?”

You stood up and paced in front of me, “You have to talk to someone! Even if it isn’t me.”

“That’s the thing! I don’t trust anyone except you with it!”

You sounded defeated, “Then why don’t you tell me? You haven’t slept, Y/N. You need to take care of yourself. I can’t just sit back and watch you do this to yourself. It’s not healthy.”

That isn’t the last time I heard you say that, but it was the first. That became your favorite phrase at the end. “It’s not healthy,” as if you’re the judge of what’s healthy and not.

My heart ached at the sight of you; purple scarf disheveled and your eye bags a similar color. Your hair was tousled from running your hands through it and you looked like you might cry. I patted the seat next to me so you would sit down and then before I could even think them, the words were tumbling out of my mouth. Every. Damn. Detail.”

He remembered it so clearly, as if it were yesterday. The cold air bit at your skin causing you to shiver and pull your coat tighter. The only warmth either of you felt was what was radiating off the other. It wasn’t much. 

“It’s the nightmare, like the nightmare. The same one from Jacksonville. It just won’t go away. I wake up sweaty and disoriented and I can’t breathe.” 

Silence came. How hadn't he heard you wake up the last few nights? Why didn’t he notice? He silently scolded himself while watching your feet draw little shapes in the snow. The flakes landed on your hair perfectly and the light made you look like you had a halo. An angel. His angel.

You got yourself together and back tracked, “Do you know what I did before the BAU Spence?”

He thought for a moment and realized he didn’t. He had no idea. It was a strange feeling. He knew the last four or so years of your life so well. He spent two and some change of them with you, together, but he knew little about you before then. He knew about your family and your childhood, but that was it. Your early twenties were a secret. 

“No, I don’t,” He croaked, running his hands nervously down his pants, as if they were sweaty, “Rossi just called you one day and the next you were here.”

You sighed and didn’t dare look at him, “I worked with Organized Crime in California. With the Bratva.”

“The russian mafia?” His voice went high, like it always did when he was confused. 

“Let me start at the beginning,” You took a deep breath and held it for a moment, “I went to school, got my criminal justice degree, you know the usual stuff. I worked on various other criminal psychology and forensic degrees and certs until I turned twenty-three.”

“So you could join the bureau,” he finished your sentence. 

You pursed your lips and nodded, “Yeah, it was my life long dream. So I joined at 23, found myself in organized crimes twenty weeks later. I was on the fast track. Not as fast as you of course,” You smiled and bumped your shoulder with his, earning a warm smile that made you feel more comfortable. 

“I worked various cases for a year or two. Low level stuff, you know? Until they actually needed me.”

He was nervous to hear it now, half regretting asking, and half celebrating the fact that you’d share your deepest darkest with him. 

“You know like in old movies when the gangster has a pretty girl in a skimpy dress on his lap? And she pretends to know nothing about what he does? Yeah that was me. Turns out I was the right age and type for Alexei. So there I was. Twenty-five. Had no idea what I was doing, going undercover.”

“Like Emily did with Doyle,” he said. 

You nodded, “Like Emily and Doyle. That’s part of why we got along so well, we both had similar experiences. She knew what the long haul was like.”

“How long were you under?” Spencer whispered. 

“Sixteen months.”

His eyes went wide, “Sixteen?”

“Yup,” you popped the ‘p’. 

“That’s a long time.”

“You don’t become a mafia kingpin’s girlfriend overnight, Reid.”

He laughed. You didn’t. 

“See you guys do the short stints. A night, maybe a day or so. It’s different. It’s draining. Constantly worrying about knowing the details of my cover while also not losing myself in the process. Sometimes I couldn’t tell where the cover ended and I started. I was paranoid, looking over my shoulder constantly. If they knew who I was, I’d get killed instantly.”

He stiffened next to you, but you carried on. 

“And you can’t break character. You have to do whatever they want. I had to be his girlfriend. I had to pretend to love him. You know how tiring that is? Pretending to be in love with a man you’re trying to take down? Pretending to like what he likes? Pretending to want to be a part of the sick shit they did?”

He sighed, “You had to do everything he wanted.”

His heart sank and he suddenly felt angry. He needed to punch this guy in the face. 

“Everything,” You practically spit out, venom dripping from the words, “And Alexei’s favorite pastime was killing people who he thought were disloyal. He’d switch it up. Some days he liked to make them suffer, others it was one between the eyes and out. He liked to make me watch.  He liked hurting the dancers too. They had a club, they always have a damn club, and those girls were the only friends I had for months. He liked to hurt them too, defile them. ‘Ruin them’ he’d say.”

Spencer’s arm reached around you now. The cold was getting to both of you, but you didn’t budge from the bench. You didn’t curl into him for safety. You just stared at the snow. 

“He liked when it hurt. He liked to throw things at me. Bruise me. Pull my hair. God I hated it,” your voice was a mere whisper now. Spencer’s grip around you tightened with every word. He wanted to protect you. He always wanted to protect you. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” He mumbled into your hair. A few frozen tears dripped down your cheeks. You sat like that, silently sobbing while remembering what had happened to you. What you’d seen. 

“What happened to him?”

You took a shaky breath, “I begged them to let me out. We had enough. I had stacks and stacks of pictures and evidence. But they didn’t let me. My awful handler would always say ‘just a few more days, Y/N, just a few.’ Then that would become another month. The job only needed eight months. I was there double that. Finally, they did the raid. I got kudos and congratulations. A promotion and a couple extra bucks, as if that would take away what I had been through. I wasn’t myself anymore.”

You took a thick swallow, finding it hard to breathe, “So I quit.”

Spencer held you still, not moving a muscle. 

“I quit. I gave up my dream. I moved back to Connecticut. I made coffee at Starbucks for $7.25 an hour. I read. I went on trips and vacations. I needed to find myself again. Then one day you guys stumbled into them and Rossi called me since I knew first hand how they worked. That was all I needed. A taste of it again, and I was all in. So a week later I showed up, Rossi raving about my ‘ability to get information out of people.’ I developed the skill to survive, Spence.”

You turned into him now, head on his chest. 

“So the nightmares are those memories. The girl’s faces. The young kids who messed up jobs. They’re hurting and I can’t save them. That’s the nightmare.”

You sat in silence, letting the words hang in the air between you. You were tired and spent, leaning your full body weight into him. He was just trying to relax and keep calm. He was pissed, and a little bit was directed at you. 

“I’m so sorry Y/N, but thank you for telling me,” His voice was low and raspy, his head spinning. For just over two years he had been your person. Your rock. And he didn’t know this about you? Why couldn’t you tell him? He told you all of his dirty secrets; his dad, the kidnapping, the drugs, and you ‘couldn’t tell him?’ Why?

“That’s why I was so scared when Emily ‘died.’” You used air quotes around the last word, “Her nightmare came true.”

“Yours won’t.”

You sniffled and rubbed your ice cold nose, “I know. You guys keep me safe.”

You looked up at him, falling into his big doe eyes. They were hurt and twisty, but full of love. And you looked at him like he was everything in the world. In that moment, he was. 

He treated you differently after that night. He was always kind and gentle, but he approached you with a new sense of care. He didn’t mean for it to happen, it just did. Someone finally understood you, and it felt so good. But one thing always bothered him, why did you wait so long to tell him? He didn’t think he’d ever know. 

“I loved you and trusted you enough to lay it all out for you, and you took it all in. You told me you wouldn’t let it change anything, but it did. I thought it changed us for the better. Maybe it didn’t, I’m still not sure. You told me it made me stronger, more resilient. It made you love me more, if that was even possible. It made me human. You told me Ernest Hemingway once said “The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.” You said I was strong at those broken places. 

So that’s what this photostrip is to me. It’s the day I officially took all of my walls down and showed you the parts of me that aren’t pretty, and you didn’t run away. You stayed and kissed me on that freezing cold park bench and warmed me up with a hug I never wanted to leave. I thought after that it would take something much greater than you or I to break this apart, like divine intervention. We were impenetrable, but then again, so was the Titanic.

That night I didn’t have any nightmares. I didn’t have a bad one until a few weeks ago. I missed having you next to me during it. You were right, talking about it does help. I’ll find someone out here to talk to, I promise. 

That night, all the walls were finally down. I think that was my fatal mistake, if only I kept them up a little while longer.

So look at us, all young and innocent before the world left us jaded and hurt. I miss your cheek kisses and the way your hands feel snaking around my waist. I miss your fact dumps and the way you feel like home. Thank you for taking me at my worst, loving me, and leaving me better than I was when you got there. Just like being under, it’s now hard for me to tell where I end and you begin. So many parts of you became parts of me. I’ll have to work on finding myself again, and this time I won’t do it over grande java-chip frappucinos, I’ll do it over case files. I’m finally done running away.” 

Spencer’s throat was dry and his palms were so sweaty the ink was bleeding underneath his fingers. How was he sweating when it was barely ten degrees outside? He put the letter and photo strip back in the box and stuffed it in the passenger seat of his car before walking back into the park. 

The fountain was off again, but he remembered what it looked like running. He walked the same paths you had walked with him a million times. He never wanted to walk them alone. He wondered if Seattle had any nice parks like this for you to walk through. He hoped you were close to Pike Place Market so you could order a coffee at the first ever Starbucks. He hoped you were happy. 

He remembered the way the park looked in the summertime, all lush, green grass and kid’s playing. He remembered the picnic you went on when the blanket flew away. He remembered kissing you under huge trees and feeding birds. As he walked around, he could almost see it, shadows of the people you used to be.  

He walked for maybe an hour before retreating back to his crappy car and crying for a moment. He didn’t turn the music back on as he drove home. He just thought of the way your body racked with tears at the nightmares and how he could always calm you down, almost instantly. He wondered who would see you through the nightmares now? They’re too hard to do alone. 

He didn’t remember when he got home, seemingly having driven on auto-pilot the whole time. When he got back inside he dropped the box and made a beeline for where his copy of your photo strip was, on one of his many shelves covered in books. He grabbed the book he had started six months ago. It was a gift from Rossi and he only read half of it, a rarity for him. When he got halfway through, everything happened and he couldn’t bring himself to open the book up anymore. He rifled through the pages of  ‘What to Expect When You’re Expecting’ and found the photo strip where it was acting as a bookmark on the page where he had left off. He took it out and slammed the book closed, not wanting to read any of the words, even by accident. 

He took the strip over and compared it to yours. His was worn and bent and the shiny photo paper had dulled from the many pages he had stuck it between. Yours was in perfect condition, still shiny and even a little sticky, like it hadn’t been touched. He stared at them, wondering what your life would be now if you could’ve held onto the people in that photo booth. There were so many what-ifs, he didn’t even know where to begin. He knew he couldn’t just leave it at these letters, he needed more. He needed to see you and he fully intended on breaking your ground rules, but not until he was finished. He walked back to the box with newfound vigor, and grabbed #9.

PART 10!

taglist: @l0ve-0f-my-life @aperrywilliams @helloniallslovelies @random-ravings

@ajwantsapancake @andiebeaword @boiled-onionrings @frnks-stuff @icantevenanymore1 @mellifluouswildbluebells @rottenearly @sammypotato67 @blushingwueen @peaxhyjaes @justanotherfangurlz @juniorgman187 @mbowles23-blog​ @blameitonthenight @goldentournesol​

(i think some tags aren’t working so if anyone knows how to fix that pls lmk :)

[dc41896]

Save Room for Us

Hey guys☺️! So this is inspired by the songs “Save Room for Us” by Tinashe and “Should’ve Been Us” by Tori Kelly (idk if that’s a thing for an imagine to be inspired by two songs that but here we are lol). Also I feel like it’s a bit lengthy so sorry about that and hope you guys like it!

Pairing: Chris EvansxBlack Reader

⚠️: Tiny bit of angst but mostly fluff💕!

“Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon? Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grins? Can you sing with all the voices of the mountain? Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?,” you sing along with Pocahontas on the television screen while your 10 month old daughter, Ameera, sat in your lap as you finished securing the bow on her last puff.

Babbling as she gazes at the movie, the chime of the security alarm from the front door opening draws her attention as she crawls towards the armrest. “Looks like your favorite uncle is here,” you smile hearing her excitedly squeal seeing Chris walk into the room.

“I’m coming sweetheart just let me wash my hands first.”

Having stayed with him in his Boston home throughout the entirety of quarantine so far, Ameera had become attached to her new playmate. When he wasn’t being interviewed or working with Mark, you’d find the both of them laughing on the floor on top of one of his throws playing peek a boo or with one of her many toys.

Sometimes they’d even watch Disney movies together with Chris being the reason for her current obsession with Pocahontas. Both sat with eyes glued to the screen wrapped in a blanket eating a snack, you couldn’t help but secretly take a picture trying to hide your laughter at the adorable site.

“Hi meemo,” Chris smiles picking up the already giggling little girl and kissing her cheek before sitting on the couch beside you. “What have you been doing since I’ve been gone huh?”

“The usual. Eating, playing, fussing when she wants to watch her new favorite movie.”

“Sounds like you had a busy day,” he chuckles tickling under her chin. “And what about you? Still packing your stuff?”

“Yea I uh packed some of her toys earlier but that’s it.”

“You know, you don’t have to go. I don’t have a problem with you guys staying as long as you want. Even ma told me to tell you her place is open too,” he adds looking at you while your daughter plays with the pendant on his necklace.

Being your best friend, you knew he’d try to do whatever he could for you both, but that still didn’t take away the guilt you felt from the situation. You didn’t want to inconvenience him in any way with Ameera’s crying or her, at times, crazy sleep schedule especially since he was still working. He assured you that wouldn’t be the case though when he suggested you come stay with him during an impromptu venting session on your part.

Your parents wanted you to stay with them instead of being on your own in the apartment, but with five people living in a three bedroom house you knew things would eventually feel cramped. You were already stressed enough with everything going on and doing your best to take care of your baby. You didn’t feel like your family being on top of you would help.

And so here you were these past four months and counting living with your best friend from high school.

“I know, but my parents have been on my back talking about how they wish they could see Ameera in person and how I should be spending time with them, so I think it’s time we leave. Plus I’m sure you’re ready to get rid of us,” you laugh propping your elbow on the back of the couch.

“Never, if you guys wanted to live here forever I wouldn’t mind,” he smiles as Ameera taps his eyebrows with her small palms trying to get some words out but only releasing grunts making him laugh.

“Hey now, be gentle.”

“It’s ok, I know what she wants.” Raising his eyebrows and making a stern face, she wildly squeals showing her one tooth while grinning and bouncing up and down.

“Listen here small person, if you think you’re the most adorable one here you’re in for a rude awakening,” he speaks in a low voice further prompting her giggles.

“Why have you been doing Lucas Lee in front of my child?,” you laugh as he turns to you returning to his normal expression.

“Well she was fussy one day we were waiting for you to get out the shower so I did it making a funny face and she loved it. I guess it’s been our thing since.”

“Oh boy, I don’t think you know what you’ve created meera.”

“What? Everybody loves Lucas Lee,” he ruggedly speaks getting back into character. “That’s been proven from my numerous fan voted awards,” he winks making you lean forward in laughter and him join in soon after.

“Da-da!” Both of you snapping your heads to your daughter, you watch her giggle with hands on his chest as she presses her lips against his cheek trying to give him a kiss but leaving a slobbery mess instead.

“Da-da!”

“Meemo that’s your first word! Do it again, say da da!”

“Or how about we try uncle? Say un-cle!,” you smile playing with her hand.

“Dada,” she giggles again lying her head in the crook of his neck before letting out a soft yawn and making him aw as he gently sways her side to side.

“I can put her to sleep if you want?”

“No it’s okay I got her. Come on Ameera it’s nap time.”

Taking her from his hands, she pokes out her bottom lip as she begins to fuss not wanting to leave her uncle.

“It’s okay, I’ll be here when you wake up,” he tries to soothe only to be met with tears while you walk her to the guest room. Smiling to himself he hears you quietly sing the familiar melody over the baby monitor on the table eventually getting her to settle. Whenever he heard it, whether from your mouth or somewhere else, he was always brought back to visiting you in the hospital shortly after Ameera was born.

Tip toeing in the room behind your mom to surprise you, he found you alone with a content smile sitting in bed as you gently swaddled the tiny infant lying in front of you.

“My cherie amour, pretty little one that I adore, you're the only girl my heart beats for, how I wish that you were mine,” you sung carefully picking her up to cradle in your arms.

“I picked something up for you while I was out,” your mom smiled moving aside to reveal a slightly crouched Chris holding two large pink gift bags designed with cartoon storks.

“I thought you were away filming?!”

“Well, I heard it was someone’s birthday today so I’m here for the party!,” he answers kissing your temple as he gently hugs you with his free arm trying not to wake the currently sleeping bundle. “Welcome to the world Ameera.”

“Say thank you uncle Chris! You really didn’t have to get more gifts though, you’ve already done enough. And that especially goes for if there’s anything Patriots in there, you might as well throw it out now.”

“No there’s nothing Patriots in here now, but give it a couple years I’m gonna have her own jersey made.”

“You better not,” you both laugh startling Ameera as she begins to squirm and whine in your arms. Consoling her while you apologize, a soft smile forms on his lips as his gaze lingers on you.

Curls tied on the top of your head wearing your light blue ‘granny pajamas’, as you called them, and your glasses perched on your nose he knew you probably didn’t feel it but in this moment it was as if you were the most beautiful being he’d laid eyes on.

He always did think you were beautiful though from the first time you met, and now with the remnants of your pregnancy glow mixing with the one you already had from your natural beauty, he never wanted to look away.

“Hey, sorry about that,” you shyly speak interrupting his thoughts as you return to your seat next to him.

“About what the crying? Y/N I think I’m pretty used to that by now,” he chuckles while you shake your head.

“No, about her calling you dada. I promise we haven’t been practicing that or anything I was just as shocked as you.”

“Oh that, you don’t have to apologize,” he responds waving you off. “I mean she’s seen me everyday for four months, it’s understandable how it would happen. Plus I don’t mind if she wants to call me dad.”

“That’s very sweet, but what happens when you get a girlfriend? You don’t think that’ll seem weird to them your best friend’s kid calling you dad?”

“Well if after I explain why Ameera calls me dad they have a problem, then they’re not for me,” he shrugs.

“And what about when you have kids?”

“Then they’ll have an older sister. Like I said though Y/N if you’re not okay with it-,”

“It’s not that I’m not it’s just...,” you begin, sighing as you look down at the cushion below you trying to figure out your feelings. Of course it warmed your heart how he’d gladly fulfil that role for Ameera, but at the same time she wasn’t his responsibility. You didn’t want him to feel like he was obligated to do anything just because you were friends.

“Chris be honest, do you feel guilty because of what happened with me and Josh?”

Hearing that name instantly made him clench his jaw as he vividly remembered the night you confessed everything that was going on in your seemingly happy relationship. He just called to check on you and Ameera since it had been a while you two last spoke with him back working. You tried to stand strong saying how both of you were fine and updating him on how much she had grown, but being your friend for so long even through the phone he knew something was off.

That’s when you broke down explaining how Josh, your then fiancé, was feeling “stressed” from the pressures of marriage and fatherhood, and how he found comfort in, Kyla, one of the trainers at the gym he frequented.

He’d never consider himself a violent man, but it took every atom and particle in him not to pay a little visit to Josh to take care of him himself.

“Because if you are, you don’t need to be. Meera is mine and his responsibility and if he doesn’t want to step up then-.” Lightly shaking his head, he grabs your hands scooting closer to peer deeper into your brown eyes that were nearly on the verge of tears.

“No no no no Y/N listen to me, what I do for you and for meemo is because I care so much for both of you that I will do any and everything I can. That’s how I’ve felt since we were younger, since you told me you were pregnant, and how I’ll always feel. If anything, the thing I feel guilty about is not saving you from that heartache.”

“Chris don’t do that to yourself, how could you have saved me? You didn’t know that was gonna happen.”

“No I didn’t, but maybe if I would’ve told you earlier what I’ve always wanted to tell you then...things would be different,” he responds seemingly nervous as he releases a breath and eyes look as if he’s trying to carefully choose his next words.

“Our junior year I realized I liked you as more than a friend and I wanted to tell you before I left, but I got scared. So, I figured by the time I saw you again I’d have built up the courage to tell you how I felt but that wasn’t until your graduation where I found out you were going away for college. I didn’t want to be something that potentially added stress or held you back so again I left it alone. Missed chance after missed chance and eventually you met Josh and once you got engaged I knew that was it. I had no more chances. Looking back though I wish I would’ve said something sooner and then you wouldn’t have to had go through all of that and-and...”

Becoming silent, he sighs raking his hand through his dark brown strands looking towards the wooden beams on the ceiling.

“...and Ameera would be our daughter and not just mine,” you finish as he slowly nods with hands covering his face.

“I know, I’m a terrible person for thinking that.” Removing his hands to reveal his reddened face, a small smile rests on your lips as you lift his eyelids open so he could look at you.

“You’re not a terrible person for wondering what could have happened if you did something differently, everyone’s done it in some way. And as far as saving me goes, yea it would’ve been nice but in my opinion, sometimes the things we go through serve as lessons to help us in the future somehow. So take failed relationships for example, those are lessons we learn that help build us to be who we’re supposed to be. And when we finally find our person, yea that’ll come with its own lessons too, but again it’s part of the building process and what we’ve already learned will help us in that relationship with them.”

Light eyes staring into yours, you feel a bit insecure as you sit back turning your attention to the tv as you grab the remote. “Then again that probably made no sense and sounded dumb and naive and-,”

Before you could come up with more adjectives, you feel warm lips and prickling hair tap the corner of your mouth making you instinctively touch the same spot as you look at Chris.

“I-I’m sorry I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you. It’s just what you said earlier definitely wasn’t dumb and-honestly figures I missed because I didn’t ask you first and you didn’t even say how you felt-,” he rambles before your hand covers his mouth.

“Christopher Dork Evans shut up. Would it have been nice of you to ask me first? Yes, and you’re right you shouldn’t have tried to kiss me....especially when my lips were turned in another direction.”

Looking at you slightly confused as you remove your hand, you shift your gaze to his lips as you inch closer until he meets you halfway to connect with yours. Slow and passionate, your lips move together as if they had plenty of practice doing this before. Feeling your body being shifted to his lap, your arms join around his neck as his hands keep you secured to his body holding your back and creeping down until...

“What? What happened?,” he lightly chuckles after you giggle against his lips breaking the intimate moment.

“You weren’t lying when you said that’s your preference.” Quickly removing his hands from your butt the heat returns to neck and face as he nervously laughs.

“Sorry, force of habit. I mean not that every girl I kiss I instantly grab it, and not that I make out with a lot of girls-,”

“It’s okay dork, I don’t mind,” you giggle leaning back in to return to where you left off. Centimeters apart, you both look towards the table once you hear the beginning of a light cry from the baby monitor signaling Ameera had woken up from her nap.

“She’s probably wet,” you both speak at the same time making you both laugh.

“You relax, I got her.” Quickly pecking your lips, you move over so he can stand up to make his way to her room. Face pressed against the pillow held against your chest, you couldn’t get rid of the giddy smile on your lips as his words and everything that followed really sink in.

“Hey meemo! Have a good nap?,” you hear him ask through the baby monitor.

“Da da,” she replies sounding a mix of sad and tired as she holds up her arms to be freed from her crib.

“I know you weren’t ready to wake up yet were you? The nasty wet diaper made you wake up?”

Silently giggling to yourself with their back and forth exchange as he changes her diaper, you soon hear footsteps returning as you sit up to see her lying on his shoulder while he carefully sits down.

“It’s a little weird, but I’m gonna miss seeing drool spots on my shirts when you guys leave,” he chuckles softly rubbing her back.

“Well I was just thinking that maybe staying with my parents doesn’t have to be long term. Like maybe we could be there for a week or two then come back and do that every now and then. If it’s okay with you that is.”

“Yea of course I’d be fine with that,” he smiles. “What made you change your mind?”

“Meera’s really comfortable here and I don’t want to possibly disrupt that you know? Plus I’d probably have to FaceTime you every day and night or else she’d be upset,” you laugh lightly grazing your thumb back and forth against her tiny hand.

“And it’s just Meera feeling that way?”

“Okay, maybe that’s how we both feel,” you smile leaning up to kiss his cheek.

Taglist: @fumbling-fanfics @honeychicanawrites @honeychicana @themyscxiras @lady-olive-oil @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @literaturefeen @damnitaa @curlyhairclub @renfrewscorner @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jnk-812 @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @jojolu @secretmysteriousperson @plokyu23

If anybody wants to be tagged, has asked to be tagged but don’t see your name, only want to be tagged for certain people I write for, or no longer wish to be tagged just let me know🤓!

[majoraslion]

MK11 Oc Work.

Working on my MK11 OC named Julissa!

Mortal Kombat 11 Oc

Name: Julissa

Age:26

Character Series:Mortal Kombat 11

Sexual Orientation:Bi-Sexual

Hometown:Born in Dragonrealm but lives with her dad in New York City

Hobbies:Loves to Skateboard, usually draws but graffiti’s things a lot (Has gotten in so much trouble but dosen’t care), likes to go to night clubs, loves raves and to dance. Carries a boombox with her to listen to music when shes skating. Mostly uses her phone with it

Relationships:

Parents: Luca (Dad) Lives in New York and is a pizza shop chef. (No wonder Julissa gets her love of pizza lol) He is calm and stern but he tries his best with his demi god daughter. He asks Raiden and Fujin a lot of questions about her since she was a bit to powerful for him. Although he runs a small dojo he still couldn’t keep up with the energy she had.

Julina (Mom) A Goddess Dragon that lives in the dragon realms, she was very kind at one point in time till she got her crown and changed her ways. She threw Julissa to her ex husband because she wasn’t the heir she wanted. She stays in the dragon realms hoping her daughter will change her mind and become the princess they need to take over.

Raiden and Fujin (Uncles to her) Both have helped her dad raise her and help control her powers as she grew, they consider themselves as uncles to her as thats what she has called them. Raiden is strict with her while Fujin is more laid back in her training. They visit her when they can and Raiden always worries when the tournament is mentioned by her as she isn’t ready in his eyes and is still childish to him.  

Tengfei:First born son to her and Shang Tsung, he was born a full dragon hatcling. He has a human form later on thanks to Julissa teaching him magic. His human form hes almost like a mini Shang, long black hair like his father, has deep green eyes, dragon like features of his mother, and he has a attitude. Mostly keeps to Julissa and gets his shyness from her, he knows of his grandparents and uncles. Julissa and Shang both split learning duties with him. Julissa teaches him her dragon culture and magic and Shang teaches his culture and magic abilites to.

Crush and Spouse Later On:

Shang Tsung (Big Tiddy Sorcerer as she has called him)

Bio:

Julissa is a sweet and kind dragon who just likes to be herself and ignore her demi god status. She hates being one as she dosen’t see herself as someone important enough. She mostly hangs around Cassie and them and keeps up with her training when she ain’t goofing off. Julissa has a trouble maker side to her and she has been caught doing things she shouldn’t have been doing which her dad Bailed her out alot, Julissa trains with her dad and the storm brothers when she can though they don’t know about dragon culture as much as she wants to learn so she seeks out help from Shang Tsung much to their annoyance. While learning from the sorcerer she grows to like him and tries to hang out with him. Julissa dosen’t like the way the future holds for everyone especially when it can grow wrong and ends up in so many deaths. Being immortal herself she’ll know the pain of watching those around her pass away and her only comfort is a evil sorcerer.

Her Human Form: 5′5 in height. Hair a dark brown with purple streaks in it, wears a oversized hoodie, headphones around neck, has small horns on top of her head, eyes are teal blue, has on jean shorts, black converses, ears have two peircings each, tonuge ring, has her dragon tail in human form, her fingers and toes are clawed and she has fangs to, she also carries a backpack with her.

Dragon Form:She isn’t the biggest dragon there is, she’s a purple color with light purple on her tail and muzzle, legs are a black pattern, green belly scales and green on her tail fur and sides, the forehead pattern is green to. Horns are a dark purple with her hair.

Powers:Of course like every dragon she can breath fire and fly, but unlike most she’s a poision dragon. Her bite is very venomous and can paralyze others. The venom is a green color and she can spit it from far away to blind them. Shes like some dragons in mythology that can walk and run on water, her paw pads are kept dry with scales that are water resitaint.  Usually if she dosen’t want to be bothered she will make her belly scales and the fur on her tail glow a bit to show she’s venomous to others and to back off, if that don’t work usually a drawn out hiss is heard and she will spit a bit of venom to show she’s serious. She dosen’t attack unless she’s threatened and she will leave

-Julissa loves to nap, anywhere and anytime. Right in the middle of a battle. She’s snoozing on a rock, its a warm sunny day and she will just lay there sprawled out in her dragon form.

-She likes to stay in her dragon form mostly when she’s by herself, she ain’t human unless she’s around the others. Her dad had to explain to the neighbours once. “No that’s not a chinese dragon in my apartment and no the kitchen is not on fire.”

-She has a weird thing about treasure and shiny things, she has a urge to collect them but she won’t do it to fuel her greedy dragon urges. She has munched down on a few gems once and is embaressed to tell anyone she does that. She will eye some gems but she can control the urges (No thanks to Shang just pourpsely bringing gems around and letting her see them)

-Julissa loves to fly around but she gets lazy and goes by water, she’s a pretty quick swimmer thanks to her scales and fur resisting the water.

-Speaking of her fur it is so soft and silky, when you move it you can see some scales under the fur that protects her body. Julissa loves being brushed and petted so much she’s like a giant cat. She likes to cuddle keep close to you. She’s actually pretty warm, not enough to be unbearable but its comfy

-She and Raiden often gets into a lot of fights over how she is and her fighting skills, mostly it’s about her taking her role as a demi god. She dosen’t want to and just wants to live a normal life while Raiden tells her she can’t run away from her responibilites. She don’t even use her powers unless it calls for them.

-Julissa is clumsy and can get disracted easily, Fujin can’t count how many times she’s crashed from flying when she sees something that catches her attention

-Julissa isn’t mean but she does have a trouble maker side to her, she has admitted to doing small things but she is sweet and kind otherwise

-Weirdly she’s afraid of bugs, she will not go near any and is deathly afraid of D’Vorah. She won’t hesitate to torch her if she has the chance.

-Julissa has the appitite of..well a full grown dragon. She has to eat a lot to to keep herself full. She burns a lot of calories and usually is sluggish if she don’t eat enough.

-She loves her mother with her heart, but she knows she’ll never change. She just hopes it will be soon.

-Being a venomous animal she has glands that stores the venom, if you look under her tonuge you can see were it comes from. Though a bite will be enough to bring anything down she usually keeps to not using it unless she feels threatened. With enough she can paralyze her prey to keep them escaping.

-Sometimes She’ll project her dream\nightmares on those she cares about or knows. She’s done this a few times with Fujin and Shang. Usually the nightmares consit of her mother abandoning her and it’s more than what they would have knew about her.

-Julissa is easy to get attatched to people, she says she can’t help it but she blames it on her abandondedment issues.

-Speaking of She has trust issues to, it’s hard for her to really know if she can trust someone or not. She usually goes by how they are or how they act.

-She mostly stays on Earthrealm, she don’t go to the sky temple unless she’s visiting Fujin and Raiden. Her home is a apartment in New York and she travels to visit Cassie and them.

-Julissa has taken over her dads Dojo and teaches some classes, it helps her clear her mind and keep her on her feet

-Julissa is like most dragons, if she ever gives into her greedy side and hoard treasure or rare items she will grow. She gets meaner and more wild as she does. Seems the only thing Fujin and Raiden has found to keep her from growin is Stuffed Animals and the dragon has a whole collection of them

-There was a time she did grow a bit to big much to their liking, she had gotten some treasure and hoarding it till it was to late

[castielsangelsx]

Lion and the Lamb (Ivar x Christian!Reader) Part 4/20

Summary: in an attempt to get closer to Ivar, all fails. You take it upon yourself to get to know your people instead, and discover that your talents prove much more useful then you thought. proving to Ivar that your skills come with a price.

(sorry this is late guys! enjoy the spam of the two chapters!) 

lion and the lamb masterlist

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Only an hour prior, I had been with Ama, her hands were wrapped in the tendrils of my h/c hair. Braiding it to mimic Viking ways, the way I had seen many shieldmaidens wear it. I admit it looked good, something I was not used to.

Now I lay beside Ivar, the calm night greeted us in our bed with my hair braided a mess as a result of my twisting and turning. I'd hoped it'd fill the awkward silence between us, hoping he'd compliment my hair. To only get a glance before he completely disregarded me afterward was not what I had expected.

Our backs were turned to one another, the crackling of the fire filled the silence between us. It was recurring; the last two nights after our uneventful wedding night, it had been the same. Ivar had come to our shared chambers through the middle of the night. The crutch was propped in the same spot at the end of the fur-covered bed. Ivar lay as far as possible from me, I didn't mind though at the start.

However, after the endless crying I had done on the first few nights, he would leave me alone, but now he disregarded me. I never thought my marriage would be like this, I was glad he was not cruel, especially after that paint incident. I decided to keep my mouth shut, though, glad I was at least beginning to be treated better than the start. Letting out a soft sigh in content and boredom, Ivar huffs next to me.

"You're annoying me, Christian. Stop moving." His voice is husky and thick with an accent.

"I'm sorry Ivar, I just cannot sleep." He huffs louder this time, shuffling beside me. I dare not turn around to face him.

"Try harder then." In an attempt to stop moving, it causes me to want to move even more. Grasping at the furs, I pull them over my shoulder up to my neck, basking in the provided warmth.

However, I am cut short by the warmth as the blanket is soon tugged to no longer cover me, leaving me open to Kattegat's cold air.

Turning my head and noticing it wrapped over Ivar, I swallow, and with an annoyed shake of my head, I grasp at the end of the blanket and tug back. Ivar does not hesitate as the quilt is ripped from me again. This blanket-stealing fool.

Tugging at it again, Ivar tugs back almost immediately, I pull back faster. This is war now. We continue for a few moments before he tugs it entirely out of my hands and off the bed.

"Hey!" I turn around sharply to face Ivar.

"Maybe your God can warm you." Ivar's tone was condescending.

"My God does not provide blankets, or heat, for that matter. I thought from your many gods, there was one that provided fire." Ivar snickered at my words, but he remained to clutch the blanket. "May I have some of the blankets, please, Ivar?" He says nothing. Sitting up, I face him, he has his back to me as usual.

"Ivar, may I please have the blanket?" He does nothing, so I sigh and grab at the thinner blanket to the side. I couldn't believe he managed to take the entirety of the duvet off the bed and onto himself and the floor. Vikings were beyond selfish.

Deciding, instead, I would settle with the thinner blanket and ask Ama tomorrow morning for a spare one. Shutting my eyes finally with my legs curled up to keep the warmth, I eventually drift off to sleep.

---

Waking up to the sounds from the bustle of the hall and light coming through the curtained window. Rubbing my eyes, I sit up in place, Ivar was not beside me like usual.

The furs fall off me as I do so, looking at the blanket warily. Hang on a second. Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I notice the thinner coverage I had chosen due to Ivar's selfishness was at the end of the bed. The blanket Ivar had stolen was wrapped around me as if it had been like that the entire night. The fabric was neatly tucked underneath my body. Someone had wrapped me up, it couldn't be Ivar, could it?

I mean, would Ivar even be able to do that? Did he ask Ama? Maybe Ama did this. I needed to ask her when I saw her later on in the day. She must have done this, I doubt Ivar would even want me warm.

Taking off the blanket, I get up for the day. I needed to do something today, I need to paint. Counting over the paint and brushes that lay where I had put them last in there state, I knew I had to get out of the hall, so that's what I would do.

----

My marriage was not going to stop me from painting with the paints I had left, so I did.

Carrying the paints tighter to my chest, I needed to find the perfect spot. I knew if I painted in our room, Ivar would surely take the pigments from me, so I decided outside was my best option. Men and women all looked at me, watching as I walked past before returning to their prior tasks.

Scanning my surroundings and wandering throughout Kattegat, I finally found the perfect spot. It was a dull wooden surface that was flat enough for me to detail on. However, looking to the owners of the structure was a small family, all occupied just a few feet from it. Slowly walking closer to the family, I hadn't found any other area to paint. I did not want to paint anywhere near the hall, so maybe if I asked the family, they would let me. I mean, it was worth a shot.

I stepped closer towards the house, noticing a seemingly middle-aged man, a woman and a small girl who tended to a small patch in the ground. Stepping closer, their attention soon switched to me.

To the queen with the cross necklace.

Her eyes watched me narrowly, unsure of my presence. I gulp harshly and step closer to the little girl who tended to the vegetables in the soil. "I mean no harm, I just came to observe." The small girl looks at me curiously as I neared to the side of their house. People were watching, but I didn't care for them. I walk to the back of their hut and run my hand over the smooth wood. It was perfect, all I had to do was ask them now. I was a bit nervous to ask, but maybe I could strike a deal. Kattegat needed some color.

The woman, presumably the mother, came to follow me around her house. Her hands were across her chest, she didn't seem like a shieldmaiden, thankfully. "What do you want?" She says, her tone is not laced with shame or fear towards me. She doesn't respect me as her queen, and that's fair. Hopefully, I could change her mind.

"I-uhh, I am not here to harm you or ask anything of you. I just- as you can see, I like to paint," referring to the paints in my hand." I need a canvas to paint on, and your house is perfect for it. I know this is a weird ask from me, but I would love to paint something for you as generosity." She furrows her eyebrows at me, and her husband soon joins her side with the little girl who peaks around the corner.

"We do not want your generosity, Christian." The man's words are tainted with pure hatred, and I gulp nervously.

"I am sorry, I see I have crossed the line, have a nice day," I say, clutching the paints even further to my chest. The man walks off back to the front of the house, the woman looks me over for a second before returning to her family. The little girl smiles at me, and I smile back, but she soon is sent back to her task.

Standing awkwardly and very embarrassed, I decided that my best option is to find some parchment or even some wood. I had painted on many walls in England; my room was littered in small drawings and paintings. Oh, how I miss home.

Taking a little walk around the home, I notice the immense amount of discarded items laying about. Piles of timber even lines of cloth lay aimlessly throughout the street. Picking a flatter bit of lighter colored bark from underneath a pile of wood. Using my free hand, I pick it up with my fingers, studying the bark for bugs or dirt. It seems rigged in some places, but it was a decent size to paint on.

This was perfect. The family's home was situated on solid ground rather than dirt or gravel, so I sat to the side of their house on a small tree stump. The repetition of houses along the street all cornered me in, but I found the spot was perfect. As the surrounding area was merely littered with pens of pigs and a few chickens.

Putting my paints down onto the ground to make myself comfortable. I looked over my materials, over the limited colors I had: all warm tones and two cool ones. I had to use what I had. I needed something to paint, looking around me for any still-life objects I think over the animals. Maybe I could paint Ama, but I shake my head at the thought I needed to observe her paint her.

Looking up to the little girl who was watching me again, small little blue eyes were lightened from the sunlight, and her hair was neat in a braid. Unmatching to a strew braid I had kept in from last night. I would paint her, I decided.

Opening a few paint jars and picking a thin brush, I start off with her main features. Deciding to only do her face and hair, I begin. It took me a few minutes and strokes of my paintbrush before I did the main features of her face. Looking up towards the girl for clarity on my work so far, I noticed she was much closer this time.

The little girl came closer towards me with her eyes wide. She seemed shy as she slowly made her way over to me. Her clothes were tattered, but it seemed she didn't mind. I give her a smile,

"hi," I say quietly in an attempt to not scare her. She waves and doesn't say anything to me but get closer. Peaking over my lap at the painting, I had started off her, the small little braids on her head. I had only done her face, but it was clear it was her, and she knew it. Her face lit up, and I smile.

"It's you," I say, pointing towards the blonde braids and blue eyes I had depicted. The girl smiles and kneels down to look even closer.

"Sigrid," a deep voice interrupts. Looking up to the father who looks disapproved and angry at his daughter, who stood beside me. Shit, what have I done? Maybe this wasn't a good idea. The little girl, presumably Sigrid, looks to me before looking back to her father.

He comes towards us now, his fists are clenched. Fuck.

"Sigrid!" He shouts this time. The little girl doesn't move; she stands beside me, pointing to the art in front of me. I couldn't hide it now, could I? I'd dug myself a big hole for this one. I sit in my spot, utterly unsure of what to do.

Standing beside me, he grabs her arm to tug her away from me, but he stops when he notices the painting. His eyes widen, and I watch as he cranes his neck to study it.

"Is that my Sigrid?" I nod slowly.

"I am sorry I have crosse-." He interrupts me,

"Did you paint that?" Pointing towards the paints next to me and the stains on my hands, I nod quickly. I stand up to match his stature.

"Come," he says. Gesturing and waving for me to follow as his clasps onto the little girl's hand. Hesitant at first, I follow a few feet behind him.

Stopping at their house, he takes the bark from me instantly without asking to show his wife, who looked beyond puzzled at my return with her husband.

They looked to the picture then back to me, before looking to each other in wonder. I didn't know if the family was impressed or not, I would hope they liked it and wouldn't stab me there and then.

"I can finish if you would like? I could paint you two together if you wished?" I asked softly, interjecting the looks they gave each other. The woman's eyes widen, and she nods slowly.

"Yes, if that is alright." Her tone is no longer a sneer or a threat, but almost an ask. I am shocked, and I feel warmth, maybe this is going to be rewarding. Perhaps they will start to like me, any queen would want their people to love them—notably the only Christian in Pagan lands. I nod in agreement and turn away to get my paints and spare brushes from the ground by the stump, walking back I find they have given me a spot on a chair. Keeping it free by the door of their house. I smile.

They willingly allow me to walk past them, I was hesitant at first, but I take a seat. They look to me and then to each other in an awkward way. "You can continue your tasks. I do not wish to stop you. I will paint the three of your together, once I need you to stand together, I will tell you. Forget, I am here." I state. The man nods before continuing on his tasks, the woman too. Sigrid does not; she sits beside me mesmerized by my work.

The parents did not mind about this and that I was happy about it.

I had been painting for a while. I had moved from the stool to the floor with the bark on the ground in front of me. Legs crossed, Sigrid came to sit beside me as I painted her mother and father, who busily worked away.

So immersed in my work onlookers had arrived to ask the woman, who I had learned was Hilde, what a Christian woman was doing at their door painting.

"Ivar!" The man shouted, darting my attention to the man. My heart beginning to race, shit!

Looking up towards Ivar, who was walking closer towards us, limping. Gazing intently, the male pointed to the design I was working on. The paintbrush seemed like putty in my hands now, my nerves were causing my hands to become clammier.

"Your Christian seems to have put her talents to good use, Ivar." His accent was thick as he spoke. Ivar looked to me with amusement laced on his features. A few more people gathered to watch over my work. I ensured to accentuate the girl and her mother Hilde and her father, who I did not know the name of, across it. It wasn't finished, but the features were prominent to be understood.

The colors were sharp, but light, adorning the bark, more onlookers came to peer as Ivar came to stand by the table the man worked on. "You must paint my family also," a voice said to my right. A few of the men I had seen who I recognized came to my side. I smiled small at the man's response.

"You have been keeping this Christian from us, Ivar," a man boasted as they stared at my artwork. Sitting up against my folded knees, I blushed, looking down at the little girl who sat at my side, who had watched me work.

"Well, I must not keep her then." my eyes widen as his words. The small crowd gathered cheered happily to Ivar's statement, and I watched as they grabbed at their shields, to come by me. I became flustered at their attention, the paints that rest on the ground being almost empty.

"I will happily paint anything you would like, but I ask King Ivar," I slowly get up from my spot on the ground. "The paints you destroyed are to be replaced for me to provide my skills to our people. I am low on pigments, and I will not be able to paint anything you ask of me." Emphasizing the word ours, Ivar takes this as an opportunity to come closer. One hand grasping the crutch tightly before limping closer towards me.

'Well, look, everybody, the Christian has demanded." Ivar smiles widely as deep laughs echo at his words. I do not falter from where I stand. I knew if getting my paints and painting for my people would improve my reputation throughout Kattegat, that's all that mattered to me. A man I was married to disapproved, I would somehow find a way to provide to my people.

Ivar steps closer towards me, I noticed his leering facade. The act he had, the cold Ivar. The man who pretended he is above it all, a man much different to the one I laid with last night, the one who would steal blankets. Who I suspect may have given me the sheet.

"I need more paint," I say softly as his face nears closer. The corner of his lip twitches into a smile.

"Won't your God provide your paints?" he says before stepping even closer towards me with his mouth close to my ear. "Christian." Confused at his words, I furrow my eyebrows, his mouth full in a smile.

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