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ruins-of-babylon · 7 months ago

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𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡

♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♥︎♡︎

Slytherin boys + Pansy x reader fluff

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎：they have a crush on you 𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈：mentions of drugs and alcohol, kinda praise kink but nothing NSFW 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉ℯ𝓇𝓈：Enzo Berkshire, Mattheo Riddle, Tom Riddle, Theo Nott, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson

𝔈𝔫𝔷𝔬 The first time Lorenzo saw you, you seemed to glisten like stars in the night sky. He was in total awe of you, his new muse. You were dancing at a party, a joint between the fingers of your right hand, while the other was raised above you, swaying to the music blaring from several speakers around the room. You were ethereal, too perfect. He reluctantly took his eyes off you as he looked around for Mattheo, the host of the party you were both at, along with anyone who was anyone at Hogwarts. His feet maneuvered him around the thrashing bodies around him, flailing limbs hitting his body recklessly. When he finally spotted Mattheo, he watched as a blonde girl grinds her hips against his, a smirk on his face, as he took a sip from the red cup in his hand. Lorenzo thought about whether he should bother his friend or not, he did seem kinda busy. But as he looked around for you, his eyes landing on your figure from across the room, he quickly decided his priorities.

He tapped Mattheo’s arm, an impatient look on his face as he turned. ��Hey Matt, do you know who that girl is?” He asked, getting straight to the point. Mattheo followed Lorenzo’s finger as he pointed to you, and when he realized who he was asking about, he nodded.

“She’s new. A friend of Pansy’s. You should ask her about her.” He dismissively said, returning his attention back to the girl dancing on him. Lorenzo sighed internally, looking around to find Pansy on his wild goose chase. His eyes strained against the dark lighting, moving around the intoxicated people his age, trying to distinguish Pansy’s character from the others. Once he did, he quickly moved in her direction, feeling frustrated when the bodies surrounding him wouldn’t move to make a path for him. As he pushed through the crowd, he couldn’t help but turn his gaze to you again, indulging himself. When he reached Pansy, he tapped her shoulder as he did Mattheo’s.

“Matt said you know that girl.” He said, pointing to you again. Pansy nodded her head.

“Her name is (y/n). You should talk to her!” She encouraged her friend. Lorenzo turned toward you, a smile on his face and butterflies in his stomach as he walked toward your figure.

𝔐𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔬

He had never really noticed you until you were sat next to each other in one of your classes. You were quiet, and didn’t really hang out with any of his friends, which is probably why. But he definitely noticed you now. He thought you were gorgeous, an angel on earth. He tried to flirt the only way he knew how.

“Can I change seats please?” Mattheo shouted at the new seating arrangement, several snickers from your classmates following.

The teacher looked rather annoyed, always having to manage Mattheo’s class clown behaviors. “No, Mr. Riddle. Please sit down and finish the assignment.” She said in a blank tone, not even raising her gaze from her desk. Mattheo faked a frown, sitting down in the seat next to you reluctantly. You knew he was just trying to be funny, like the attention seeker he was. So, you weren’t too bothered by his statement, and you refused to take it personally. You didn’t exactly like to sit next to him either.

“Can I copy your work?” He whispered to you, fidgeting with his pen.

You looked at him with a stoic expression, “No. Do your own work.” You replied. He annoyed you, to be frank.

“Please, princess. I know you’re smart.” He slightly panicked, regretting his previous tactic. He was so used to getting any girl he wanted, he wasn’t well versed at actually flirting.

“No, and please don’t call me that.” You replied calmly, still focused on your work. He felt like you were slipping through his fingers, he had barely talked to you and he already fucked up, almost past redemption. He snatched the paper from you, bringing it to his other side, where you couldn’t reach it, and began scribbling the answers onto his own paper. You got up, your stool squealing against the floor as you walked to get your paper back. He just kept moving it away from you, laughing as you sighed in frustration. Both of your frantic movements drew the attention from the whole class as well as your teacher.

“Mr. Riddle, Miss (y/l/n), what is going on?!” Your teacher yelled at you and Mattheo, getting up to walk towards you.

“Oh shit.” He mumbled, not concerned about the detention you were both likely to receive. All that meant was more time with you.

𝔗𝔬𝔪

BANG!

The sudden noise startled everyone in the classroom, quickly turning to the source of the disruption. There you stood, your cauldron laying on its side on the floor, the contents spilling everywhere. You blushed, clearly embarrassed, as you picked up the cauldron and cast a spell to clean the mess.

“Are you alright?” The teacher called to you.

You nervously bit your lip, smiling awkwardly. “Yes, I’m just clumsy.” You said, praying for everyone to continue with their work instead of looking at you. Eventually they did, except for one pair of eyes, unbeknownst to you: Tom Riddle. He was hidden in a corner of the room several seats from you, captivated by you. He found you adorable, and wanted to get to know you. He didn’t get much attention from girls, due to his scary looks and nature, so he wasn’t sure how to approach you, preferring to watch you from afar instead. This had been going on for a few months, and Tom was desperate.

“Umm,” the teacher started, “Tom, could you help Miss (y/l/n) with this assignment?” The teacher asked, volunteering his best student to be a helping hand. He shakily nodded, his legs carrying him over to your desk. He couldn’t lift his eyes to meet yours, quickly explaining the steps to craft the potion. You nodded and followed his instructions to a T, and soon your potion was complete.

“Thank you so much, Tom. I’m so grateful for your help.” You said, smiling at him. He smiled at your words, finally meeting your eyes with a fond gaze.

“No problem. You did a good job.” He praised. Feeling a surge of confidence, he leaned into you, whispering close to your ear, “good girl.” Before turning briskly and walking back to his seat. You flushed bright red, your mouth slightly agape at his words. He looked back at you, feeling victorious at your expression.

𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔬

Theo’s favorite hobby, by far, was definitely quidditch. The rush of soaring over the field, hundreds of feet in the air, the screaming crowds, the loud announcements of every player’s move. Everything about it was exciting and fun for him. Not to mention all the friends he made by being on the team. As a new school year rolled in, and quidditch season began, a new player was added to the team: you. You got along with everyone quite well, probably due to your friendly and charming manner. Even Draco, who didn’t like many people, liked you. You were amazing at quidditch, also. What wasn’t to love about you? That’s how Theo felt, for sure. He had heart eyes whenever he saw you. So, his new favorite hobby was looking at you. Of course, he had to make you his, but how? Eventually he devised a plan he thought would blow you away and fall in love with him. He included Blaise in his plan, having his friend intentionally hit a bludger at you, making it look like an accident. You were pushed off your broom, your hands clinging desperately to the wooden material as you hung hundreds of feet from the ground. Theo, like the gentleman he is, swooped in and pulled you onto his broom, saving you from a terrifying fate. You were so relieved, you could have kissed him! And that’s exactly what you said, your arms wrapped around Theo as he flew you down to the field. When you reached the ground, you let go of him, your heart still racing from tempting death, or the guy you had a huge crush on saving you, you didn’t know.

“Why don’t you, then.” He said half jokingly, tapping his cheek and turning his head, motioning you to kiss his cheek. He smiled as you walked towards him, ready to claim his reward and slowly growing closer to you. You definitely surprised him when you grabbed his chin and pulled his face forward, kissing his lips gently. You pulled away too soon for his liking, and you giggled as he chased your lips, slowly opening his eyes when he was unsuccessful in bringing you back towards him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close and whispering in his ear, “my knight in shining armor.”

𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔰𝔢

Everyone had heard the news, apparently there was supposed to be a new student attending Hogwarts, in the middle of the year. The school didn’t have many new kids, most started attending in first year, and when there were new students, they usually started in the beginning of the year, so hearing that someone was coming several months into the semester was certainly news. Blaise didn’t really care, preferring to hear actual drama. Until the teacher introduced you to the class, then he cared. And when the teacher asked for a volunteer to help the new student, his hand shot up faster than it should have. Maybe he looked desperate, but he knew girls liked an obsessed boyfriend. Of course the teacher picked him, trying to play matchmaker when she saw his hand raised. You sat down next to him, feeling quite shy after his clear desperation. He asked so many questions, all his attention on you. Where are you from? Do you have a boyfriend?

Do you have your eyes on anyone?

Has anyone asked you out yet? How are you liking the school so far?

You answered each one, and soon, the class was dismissed, both of you hadn’t even touched your work. He walked you out of the classroom, stopping right outside the door.

He brought your hand to his lips, softly kissing the back of your hand. “What’s your next class? I’ll walk you there.” He was such a gentleman. Let’s just say, he had you from day one.

𝔓𝔞𝔫𝔰𝔶

“God really does have favorites.” Pansy sighed, watching you sit down at your table and begin to eat breakfast. Theo sighed from next to her, already knowing who she was talking about, having already heard about you several times a day for several months.

“Please, for my sanity, just ask her out.” He pleaded. He knew you two would be a cute couple, and more so, he was tired of hearing about her crush on you.

“I don’t even know if she likes girls.” Pansy groaned, hating the idea of you not liking her the same way she liked you. As she admired your beautiful face, you suddenly turned your head in her direction, making eye contact. Pansy quickly looked down, feeling the heat rise to her face and ears. How embarrassing! After a few seconds, she cautiously lifted her head back up, looking at you. She was confused to see you still looking in her direction, a smile on your face as you waved. She hesitantly raised her hand and waved back, wondering what you were thinking. Were you friends? Did you possibly like her back? Her mind raced, almost turning to tell Theo what she was thinking when you suddenly got up. She hoped - or maybe dreaded - that you were walking to her, and as you confirmed her suspicions and sat down in the seat directly across from Pansy, she felt as though she would explode.

“Hi Pansy, I’m (y/n), we have a few classes together.” You said, trying to open up a conversation with the girl sitting across from you.

“Oh yes, I remember.” She replied rather quickly, regretting how fast she responded after it had already slipped past her lips. You only laughed, a sound she wanted to hear forever.

“I was wondering if you wanted to study together in the library sometime? You know, with the potions assessment coming up.” You asked.

Pansy’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest at the thought. “Of course! How about today after dinner?” She suggested, trying to sound casual.

“Sounds like a plan. See you then.” You said before getting up and heading back to your own table.

————

I hope you enjoyed! <3

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erenjaegerwifee · 8 months ago

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Summer In Pandora 🌸 Day 2 - One Bed

Paring: Lo’ak x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, explicit language, p in v, orals (f receiving), jealous Lo’ak, friends to lovers, mentions of courting, passionate sex, Lo’ak feeling guilty and in love, sensitive Lo’ak, body worshipping, sweet aftercare

Word Count: 3.5k

Index: ma kalin - my sweet, sevin - pretty.

Disclaimer: All my characters are aged-up! If that makes you uncomfortable do yourself a favor and scroll, don’t bother reading or interacting with my account, thank you!

main m.list | event m.list

You decided to have a sleepover with your best friend and everything was going fine. You played board games and got into little arguments about how much rent you owe Lo’ak while playing monopoly. You played pranks on his brother while he was chilling out in his room.

Everything was seemingly normal for a sleepover. Your parents never seemed to care that much when you and Lo’ak would spend time together. They knew well Lo’ak was your closet friend and you liked being around him so sleepovers were not an uncommon thing. You both were never without the other growing up so nothing would change now.

Even though you have both grown into adults, both exceptional hunters and both single, it was never really an issue to be around each other. It’s not that you haven’t noticed the way Lo’ak would glance at your chest sometimes staring a bit too long. Or the way you would admire his chiseled abs when he would pull back his bow to shoot his prey when you were hunting. No, you were well aware of how hot he was and vise verse, but you never though it would be an issue.

That was until tonight when you crawled into bed with him after a long day and then some of your playing around letting your limbs stretch out into the comfortable blankets. Lo’ak jumped onto the bed bouncing you up slightly as he looked down at you, “Awe are you tired already eveng(girl)?” he teased you as he seemed to not be tired at all.

“You’re all talk bitch, when your head hits the pillow, you are gonna be out like a light, it happens every time.” you look up at him smiling at the thought. “Whatever...” Lo’ak replies while he lays down next to you, “Wanna watch some TV?” he asked you.

A couple years back, he had a TV installed in his room with movies downloaded on it for this reason specifically. Lo’ak never liked watching T.V alone, he always wanted someone to be with him usually opting between his brother and you, “Aren’t you tired?” you say with a yawn.

“No but I take it you are, are you getting old? You never go to bed this early” his comment made you laugh. “Oh Lo’ak, I’m just an adult, it sucks but at least I get to have sex so” you shrug watching the TV as he flips through the selections. Lo’ak pauses immediately he felt like his brain lagged, “Sex? You are having sex? With who? Why didn’t you tell me?” he started off and turned his body to you.

The TV now long forgot, the remote sits beside him as his attention is directed at you. The faith glow of light makes him look beautiful, his freckles shine in the dark but at the same time they don’t. You find yourself tracing the pattern on his face, something that was unique to the na’vi, no one is alike in this way. But Lo’ak was even more special with his extra fingers and toes. Some people may think he is dangerous because of his human feather but you like it a lot. Lo’ak has done nothing but protect you in all the time you have known him, not one day since you knew this man have you felt unsafe. Even though he can be quite reckless, he never has and never will put you in a position to get hurt, and it is not just something you know, it is something he has told you.

“With no one specific, and I don’t know, I didn’t know how you would take it. You never told me when you had sex, if you did, I still don’t know” you answer him. You lay in your back and turned your head to the side on his pillow looking at him. Lo’ak’s entire body faces you and his head is propped up on his wrist and he watches you, “Ok fine is that what it’ll take? I had sex with, you remember Nila? She was my first time, then a couple more chicks after from the Metakayina clan.” his words upset your stomach but you ignore the feeling.

“Well when you and your family when to the metakayina, I was lonely and it just happened, after that it never happened again” the sully family had only been with the metakayina clan for about a month. After they were attacked there Jake realized it made no sense, they run away from home is the sky people will find them where ever they go, he didn’t want to put people who do not know war in danger. So at least they decided if they stayed in the forest the Omatikayan are strong. They can fight for their own.

“Your moving so sudden Lo’ak I was very sad watching my best friend leave with the rest of your family that I love every much.” you try to explain but he stopped you, “with who? Who did you lose it too ma kalin? His voice was soft, almost a whisper and his gaze doesn’t falter, “Adrik, we went to a party and met up there and I was feeling a bit awkward and he stayed with me so I wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. The next few days he’d spend more time with me and he was sweet, but when he requested to court me, I declined, it was the day before you came back home.”

Lo’ak didn’t say anything, he just took in your words. Yours eyes started to flutter as you drifted away to sleep waiting for his response. Lo’ak watches you drift off to sleep right in front of him but his brain didn’t even process it. He admired your features but he wasn’t thinking about that, no.

Lo’ak was thinking about how you fucked someone else, his entire life he stayed by your side and the moment he leaves you fall into bed with another man. He doesn’t blame you though, it natural you were alone and someone took advantage of your kind and submissive nature. It was his fault, he should have never left you. Maybe then you would have fallen into bed with him.

Lo’ak didn’t mean to sleep with those other girls, after Nila he realized how much he really wanted that to be you and he regretted it ever since. When he left for the metkayina he wanted to take you, but he didn’t want to put you in unnecessary danger, no matter how much you cried for him to take you. That was the first time in his adult life he actually cried, it was because he left you.

Now here you are sleeping comfortably in his bed, looking gorgeous as ever after you told him he made you lonely, “baby no I’m sorry...” Lo’ak whispered, scooting his body closer to yours. You had already fallen into deep sleep but it didn’t stop him from waking you. His large palm rested over the blanket on your hip shaking you slightly while calling your name.

Lo’ak’s head came down to your neck, he rested his head on the pillow behind yourself and pushing his head into your skin meeting it with his lips. He kissed and whispered into your skin, “wake up kalin please” his voice was strained, desperate, “have to tell you something.” when your stir your body and open your sandy eyes you don’t see Lo’ak, you feel him.

His body was pressed up against yours even though he’s bigger than you, his feet almost hang off the bed as he finds solace in the feeling your skin, you listen to him sweetly ask you to wake up so he can talk to you, you feel his hands squeeze your hip but they don’t really move from the spot, only to shake you. You feel his breath kiss your neck, the coolness that settles every time he inhales and the heat you feel when he exhales.

“Lo’ak” you whisper and his head whips up to look at you, his body shuffles up so your lay face to face but he didn’t pull back to give you space, he stayed pressed up against you, “I’m so sorry I left you kalin, I should have fought harder for you to come with us, I am sorry” his apology catches you by surprise. “Lo’ak you do not need to apologize for that it is okay you are back-”

“No but it is not okay, it’s my fault you slept with him, your first time shouldn’t have been because you felt alone, because I left you alone, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” Lo’ak cut you off desperately trying to win your forgiveness, every pause in his sentence he kissed you on your cheeks, both sides got equal love he even kissed the corners of your lips at one point, it was like he wasn’t thinking straight.

“I shouldn’t have slept with those girls, I’m sorry they weren’t you, when I left, I searched in every girl for even a little sliver of you but no one was the real thing, I’m sorry you had to find comfort in someone else I promise I’ll never leave you again.” you take in his words, not fully processing but you tried to find a way to understand.

“Lo’ak want are you trying to say?” your voice comes out a bit mean but you don’t think anything off it. He does though, he pulls his lips away from your face to look at you, his ears are pinned down as he looks into your green eyes due to the dark room. Even though his are almost the same shade, Lo’ak thinks yours are so much more beautiful. The slight difference in your eyes makes it all the more beautiful in his opinion, he has never seen this color on anything in his life, no plant, flower or vine has ever come close to how beautiful the shade of green your eyes are.

You seem to finally process how mean you sounded and brought your hands up quickly too his face, his hands were still situated around your waist, and the rest of his body was still pressed up against yours except for his face and chest, “wait, I didn’t mean it like that, you just- you woke me up apologizing for something I have never blamed you for, I want to know the reason is all” you pull him closer and rest your forehead to his.

Lo’ak sighs into your touch, your voice is so soothing to him, he could listen to you talk all day. He closes his eyes and takes in your words letting them resonate with him, you don’t blame him, he shouldn’t blame himself. Lo’ak raises his head from yours and looks you in the eyes, “I- I love you; I was waiting for the right time to tell you but I don’t think any time could be better than this, holding you close to me, in bed, this is all I want for the rest of my life I love you” his words are nervous but you couldn’t have been happier hearing them.

“Oh Lo’ak, I love you too-” he doesn’t wait for you to finish your sentence, just pulling you close, kissing you on the lips. The action surprises you but you don’t push him away only melting into the feeling of his soft lips. You only break the kiss to get some air and again he tried to kiss you almost immediately. It makes you giggle how sweet he looks wanting to kiss you so bad, cute blush on his face as he looks at you, “Patience Lo you will get whatever you want, but first I wanna know what brought this on” you tease him.

Your hands run down his neck to his chest and back up, you watch him close his eyes feeling your touch and it makes you giddy, you’ve never seen Lo’ak look so fragile before, it is quite loving to see him relax with you into such a state, “I made a mistake, you shouldn’t have slept with him, I wanted to be the one to do that. I know it sounds selfish and you had every right to do what you did but I can’t help but feel like if I was still here, it would have been me”

His words make you melt, “It is not your fault. Do not blame yourself you can still make me yours; it was only one time and if I’m being honest the only way I got through it was thinking about how much I wanted it to be you...” you voice is soft, shy as you confess to him, you lean towards him and press a soft kiss on his nose.

“Let me make it up to you” his words are almost slurred and his blush deepen from the kiss. Before you could protest Lo’ak slide his was between your thighs flipping your loincloth up exposing you to him. You try to close your legs but his big body stopped your movements, “Please, I promise I’ll make you feel good, please let me get a little taste”

His words make your cunt gush, you hoped he wouldn’t notice to way you got wet so easily but it didn’t matter much when you gave into him nodding your head for him to touch you. “Want to hear you say it kalin, tell me you want me down here”

This man is down bad for you and you both know it, the thought makes you clench around nothing, “Want you Lo, make me feel good” your voice comes out as a softly but he hears it, not wanting to wasting anymore time he licked a stride up your slit sucking on your clit, you weren’t expecting it to feel so good when you agreed but damn he is amazing, you don’t want to think about where he learned to do this so well but it benefits you entirely. You whimper and feeling his tongue glide along your wet folds and flicker at your clit, it doesn’t take long before he throws you into your orgasm making you gush in his mouth. Lo’ak is reeling between your thighs as he shoves his head in deeps almost disappearing from your view when you clench on his tongue repeatedly, he doesn’t waste a drop.

When he licks you clean, he raises his head panting, his lower face is messed up with your essence making you turn your head from him shying away. Lo’ak chuckles as he watches you blush and bite on your middle finger glancing at him. He kisses and sucks his way up your body leaving marks on your thighs, hips, abdomen until he makes it to your covered chest.

“Can I take it off please?” his voice is so sweet but you let him do it anyways. He wastes no time getting you naked after he got your verbal confirmation. Lo’ak takes a minute to admire your bare body before him, his hands run up and down your slim, sexy waist thinking about how soft your skin is, how amazing you look in the dimly lit room, he sees everything so clearly as if the sun was shining down on you. Thats a thought, imagine having you sprawled out naked in the forest taking his cock, he can’t wait for all the fun that comes with being in love with you.

He snaps out of his thoughts when your hand reaches down to palm him in his loincloth noticing the obvious bulge. Lo’ak groans when his feels your hand squeeze him, “wanna make you feel good too Lo” you bite your lip looking at his strong figure above you, your voice was soft but not a whisper you wanted him to hear how much you wanted to please him and he certainly did.

“Fuck baby, you’re just perfect aren’t you, wanna suck on my cock for me to feel good...Eywa you really are fucking perfect aren’t you.” he doesn’t move your hand from his covered cock but brings a hand to stroke your hair sweetly. This man just had a way of making you feel submissive for him, his hand runs through the strands of your hair petting the top of your head occasionally. You looked up at him with such lust, you want him so bad, “yea Lo, wanna be good for you” you say sweetly looking right at him.

Your words make his cock jump under your touch which in turn make you giggle while you look at him, neither of you have broken eye contact yet when he bends his body over yours brining his lips down to kiss you sweetly on the mouth. Lo’ak makes you swoon in that kiss, when he pulls away you raise your head chasing his lips.

“Kalin, as much as I wanna feel this sweet mouth on my cock, tonight is about you. Tonight, I want you to have everything you deserve” his voice is calm, soft but steady, you know he means what he is saying to you. Lo’ak removes his hands from you and unties his loincloth letting his harden cock bounce freely in the air. The exposure makes his hiss and he strokes it slowly.

You watch him pump his cock in his hand, he is huge, a little on the thin side but his cock was still thick and the length...he was so long you think he could possibly touch the inside of your belly button. He lines up his cock with your slit pushing in slowly, his gaze shifts from your tight hole taking him in and your screwed up face. He feels the way your small cunt stretches to accommodate him and he drops his head on your collarbone when he bottoms out, “Fuck kalin, did you- are you sure you’re not a virgin? You are so fucking tight” he mumbles into your skin.

“You-you’re so big Lo-” your voice stutters and he’s not even moving yet, you definitely boast his ego but you sound so good talking to him like that, he almost cums in the stop. He knows what you are trying to say, he understands but he wants to hear you say it, “Hmm, you think so sevin?” he raises his head to look at you watching you bite your lip and nod your head.

Lo’ak pulls back giving and experimental thrust and when you moan, he swears he hears paradise. Lo’ak takes it as a sign to set a nice pace for it, it’s not too fast but enough to make you mewl out for him. Your arms come to wrap around his neck pulling his down to meet your lips. Lo’ak doesn’t want to muffle your sounds he wants to hear everything, but he just can’t resist his sweet girls asking for a kiss.

When his lips touch yours your body stutters, you clench on him unintentionally making him moan into your mouth. Lo’ak quickens his speed feeling the way your lips no longer kiss him, your sounds travel from your mouth to his, lips touching sweetly as you tell him how good you feel. “Yea? Feels good? You feel so fucking good too baby, clenching on my cock like that, you’re gonna make me cum”

His words send a jolt of electricity through your body, his lips travel down to your neck sucking on the sweet spot that makes your legs weak. You whimper loudly into the air when you feel your orgasm creeping up on you. “Lo- Lo’ak wanna cum!” your voice is pitched another octave when you speak to him, “Cum baby, wanna feel you cum in my cock, doing so fucking good for me, such a good girl, cum for me” Lo’ak groans when you gush on his cock clamping down in him tightly.

He follows right behind you pulling out and aiming to cum on your stomach, but his cum shoots out landing of your naked tits. The cool air makes your shiver as you come down from your high. You watch him pant above you as if he’s so worn out now, he drops beside you on the bed reaching for his discarded loincloth to clean up your body. Not that he would be needing it now.

Lo’ak sits up dipping the cloth into some warm water then swiping it on your cunt, the feeling making you flinch but welcome the feeling when he pulls away and you’re clean again. You never thought he’d be one for such aftercare but here he was surprising you again.

You yawn cutely catching his attention and he crawls into bed next to you tossing the cloth aside. He pulls you close your back against his chest and he kiss your shoulder and neck whispering how good you did for him, how amazing you felt, and sweet compliments that would make you blush if you weren’t so tired. You drift off to bed in his strong arms listening to him tell you how much he loves you, you really couldn’t have felt more loved than you do in this moment.

🌸 I hope you enjoyed reading! I had tons of fun on this one! Please don’t repost, translate or copy my work onto any other platform

🌸Reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated

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redsugarx · 2 months ago

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青白之魅 3: Hair & Makeup Styling

1 Introduction & Presentation // 2 Background & Influences // 3 Hair & Makeup // 4 Set Design // 5 Clothes & Accessories // 6 Conclusion

If you thought there was gonna be less nerd from here on out you are deeply mistaken.

I was responsible for the hair styling for both the white and green snake, which was super fun. I’ve been doing hanfu hair styling for a year or two now (thank you to everyone who let me practice on them!!!) and have gradually gotten better at it, even though I still struggle with some parts of it. I certainly have the equipment collection to show for it now at least! I have so many fake hair pieces I can’t keep track.

As with any hanfu hair styling, the process involved a lot of fake hair, pins, and hairspray—but of course before the actual styling started, which was mostly only on the day of, I had to spend some time thinking about how I wanted the hair to look on each character.

元衛九鼎洛神圖, Taiwan National Palace Museum, 她：女性形象與才藝，2020

As far as snake-like hairstyles go, the first thing that comes to mind is the 靈蛇髻/灵蛇髻/ling2 she2 ji4/Spirited Snake hairstyle, shown above on Luoshen, a women’s hairstyle that went through a lot of changes through the dynasties but generally involved a tall, twisting bun leaning slightly to the side on the top of the head, resembling the body of a rearing snake. It’s a very popular style both historically and among hanfu enthusiasts today, because it looks very unique and ethereal. Often, female spirits or goddesses are depicted with this hairstyle.

That was the style I was originally planning on using, but it came with some limitations: one, it’s kind of… in unstable equilibrium? We’d essentially be walking around with the leaning tower of Pisa around on top of our heads. I had to style both of our heads BEFORE setting up the set design, so there was too high of a risk that something would get knocked out of place, since I knew I would have to be running around doing things. Also, because Yulan has brightly colored dyed hair, she had to wear a black base wig under all the fake hair pieces, which is a bit more difficult to pin things to than your actual scalp.

So instead I went with a different design. I knew I still wanted a lot of serpentine loops and strands, and I wanted there to be a significant amount of volume going on—they are ‘spirits’ and ‘goddesses’ after all, they deserve to be fancy!—so I went from there.

The Poetry Vibes

I stumbled upon a few poems last year while looking for names for Cloud9 Hanfu’s Year of the Dragon collection, and a few of them ended up becoming inspirations for this project.

This is the first part of 張可久 (Zhang Kejiu)’s Yuan Dynasty verse, 醉太平·春情 (Drunken Peace · Spring Romance). It’s a bittersweet poem describing a speaker that is longing for a lost love, likening her beauty to the imagery of the evening spring showers outside his home. I’ll do a slightly more faithful line-by-line translation of the poem’s actual words, then a paragraph-form translation with more stylization that gets at the meaning a little more (poetry is really hard to translate).

This is mostly just my interpretation though, and my Classical Chinese is... extremely questionable, so like... take it with a grain of salt.

張可久 Zhang Kejiu, 百度百科

Line-By-Line

烏雲髻鬆，金鳳釵橫。<- “Storm cloud hair is soft and loose, the golden phoenix hairpin is horizontal.”

伯勞飛燕自西東，惱離愁萬種。<- “The shrikes and swallows fly their ways to the West and the East, causing ten thousand kinds of sorrowful goodbyes.”

碧溶溶满溪綠水桃源洞，淡濛濛半窗白月梨雲夢，恨匆匆一簾紅雨杏花風。<- “Jade stream water flows to the Peach Blossom Grotto, moonlight is cast cloudily through the pear blossoms to my half-open window as if through a dream; the wind is unforgiving, felling apricot petals like a red curtain of rain.”

把青春斷送。<- “It ruins the spring.”

Stylized

Storm clouds gather loosely outside my window. I can almost imagine that they are strands of her soft hair; I can almost see where her golden phoenix hairpin would have laid, nestled in her black locks.

It’s springtime now—the orioles should be migrating, flying to their summer homes in the west, and the swallows to the east. Imagining their inevitable parting stirs a complicated sorrow in my chest.

As it storms, clear rainwater collects on the ground in rivulets, streaming away like liquid jade. I wonder where the water is going—is it to some forgotten, untouchable paradise? Is that where she is now? I can see through my half-open window where moonlight drizzles through the petals of the pear-blossom trees, misty and clouded as if I’m dreaming. Suddenly, a curtain of red petals fall across my vision like rain: it’s my flowering apricot tree, struck by the wind.

My trance is broken—spring is over.

As Chinese poetry tends to be, it’s very romantic with lots of natural imagery, tinged with sadness. When I reread it with this project in mind, it made me think of Xu Xian after the events of the Legend of the White Snake. While it’s commonly accepted that Bai Suzhen later ends up getting freed and there’s some kind of happy ending, the actual legend itself ends with the White Snake being imprisoned under the Leifeng Pagoda. Many years, if not centuries, pass before she gets out. So as many Chinese romances tend to be, the Legend of the White Snake is, by itself, a great tragedy. I can see the Xu Xian as the speaker of the poem.

Bearing this in mind, I imagine that the beauty of the Snake Spirits are much like the scene described in this poem—soft and ethereal like mist, hiding enough power to bend nature to their will. I decided to lean into the ‘clouds’ theme, especially for Bai Suzhen.

傳五代周文矩仕女圖, Taiwan National Palace Museum, 她：女性形象與才藝，2020 (ft fucked up fat cat)

The comparison of women‘s hairstyles to rainclouds is actually very widespread in Chinese literature, so it was perfect for hairstyle inspiration—in poetry, women are often represented by their features, ex. a poem might say "moth brows" or "cloud hair" to refer to a beautiful lady. Cloud hair and cultivated appearance is integral to the allure of a woman, so much so that the act of putting on makeup can be considered a transformation of identity.

In the linked instance the transformation of identity is supposed to be in the sense of gender identity, but you could also see it (in the context of this project) as the transformation from snakes to women.

This connection is strengthened by another poem, 好事近·夢中作 by 秦觀/Qin Guan from the Song Dynasty.

清宫殿藏画本. 北京: 故宫博物馆出版社. 1994, Wikimedia Commons

Line-By-Line

春路雨添花，花動一山春色。<- “Rain has filled the road with flowers, swaying in the breeze, filling the mountain with the feel of spring.”

行到小溪深處，有黃鸝千百。<- “I walked far along the mountain stream, where there were hundreds and thousands of yellow orioles.”

飛雲當面化龍蛇，夭矯轉空碧。<- “The flying clouds turned into dragons and snakes before me, stretching across the vast jade expanse.”

醉臥古藤陰下，了不知南北。<- “I lay down, drunk in the shade of the vines, not knowing which way is North or South.”

Stylized

I see where the spring showers have filled the mountainside with flowers. They sway in the breeze, bringing with them the rejuvenating scent of spring as I walk deeper and deeper into nature, following the bubbling mountain spring and the crowds of yellow orioles that have come out to celebrate the season as well. As I look up at the sky, I see dragons and snakes form in the midst of the roiling clouds above, leaping and coiling across the expanse of the clear blue sky. Intoxicated, I stop to rest underneath some vines, lost in the beauty of springtime.

So I am aware that it kind of sounds like this guy miiiiight be on acid but I'm pretty sure it doesn’t mean he’s hallucinating snakes in the clouds, it’s just like when you look at a cloud and say “that one looks like an elephant!”

Then again there is an interpretation that says his "walking further and further into nature" means he's just getting more and more drunk to escape his problems, so like... make of that what you will. Art is more often than not subjective.

Anyway, dragons also have power over rain and weather, and snakes are often called the ‘little dragon,’ often also associated with flowing water. All this is to say—clouds & coils are good representations of snakes! Also, you’ll notice that both of these poems are about springtime (though the second one is noticeably happier), fitting in with using this project to welcome the Spring Festival :)

Moving onto individual hairstyles. Keeping in mind the shapes of clouds, I wanted Bai Suzhen’s hair to be very tall, voluminous and ethereal to represent her spiritual prowess and strong will. A bunch of loops fan out at the top center of the hairstyle, adding ‘rays’ pointing outwards like a halo. I made sure there were a lot of round, circular elements to ‘fluff out’ the shape like a cloud. There are two strands of circles kind of peeking out at the bottom behind her neck/ears area, which were achieved by pinning a braid to each side and then pulling the outermost hair strands of each ‘loop’ outwards to create little flat circles.

Going back to the first poem, if I imagine that the speaker is Xu Xian thinking of Bai Suzhen, it makes sense for the mentioned ‘gold hairpin’ to appear in her hairstyle, doesn’t it? So I also added a few gold hair accessories—U-shaped pins for the most part, plus a small guan in the center to tie things together—to point outwards above her head.

For Xiaoqing's hair, I wanted something that was a little more youthful, but still resplendent enough to do her justice. Xiaoqing is a younger spirit than Bai Suzhen, but still accomplished in her own right. Her hairstyle don’t extend as far outwards as the White Snake’s, but she has two ‘loop’ buns on each side rather than one peak in the middle. It’s kind of evocative of the double bun look often styled on younger girls, but with more fancy loops and swirls added to represent her high spiritual abilities. Each of the two main buns has two strands of hair looping up from the back of the head to the top. The strands are very loose, so depending on how I moved, they separated into several visible strands/just one thicker lock of hair.

The hair accessories I chose for Xiaoqing don’t have as much metal in them, to distinguish her from her sister, as I wanted to emphasize her connection to nature—because she has less experience than Bai Suzhen, she is often portrayed in media (Green Snake 1993 especially) as not yet reaching full human form, still closer to her serpentine origins. She has a white flower with green leaves on each side, standing for spring, youthfulness, and her dedication to the White Snake. There are a couple strands of pearls ‘dripping’ down from the flowers like raindrops, matching with the pearl accessories in the makeup, as well as with the white markings on Dragun’s back.

傳唐周昉內人雙陸圖 , Taiwan National Palace Museum, 她：女性形象與才藝，2020

I also chose to include a pair of green half-moon combs, made to imitate jade (they’re acrylic, I’m working on a budget here ;-;). These were often worn several at a time, inserted into different layers of hair (as seen in the image above). Jade accessories are carved from nature—they are often subject to the colorings and properties of the natural base material they are made from, and they are often used to describe natural imagery. This can sometimes be a limitation, but for those who look further it can be an inspiration (see the Jadeite Cabbage, my favorite thing ever, Taiwan Numba One).

Peking Opera Hairstyles

京��旦角，百度百科

Peking opera influenced the hairstyle design a lot. Dan roles (旦角）in opera have very specific hairstyle protocols. They wear a lot of fake hair pieces and hair accessories just like modern hanfu hairstyles have. One of the base hair silhouettes shared by almost all dan is the traditional 大頭/大头/da4 tou2/'big head,' with most of the hair wound into a large oval bun on the back of the head, and small pieces added at the edges for decoration. To imitate this look, the back of both of the hairstyles are padded with a large, flat, and round hairpiece (known in the hanfu hairstyling community as the 西瓜包/xi1 gua1 bao1/'watermelon bun'). This helps to add volume onto the back of the head, creating the illusion of very long hair that has been neatly wrapped and pinned up.

Another one of the key parts of these hairstyles is the round loop of hair in the center of the forehead. It’s an important feature that I included to tie the two styles together, to make sure it was clear that it was a ‘matched set’ so to speak, and was inspired by the hair loops seen in Chinese Opera styling.

戏曲旦角化妆、梳大头全过程，新浪博客，2011

Traditionally, a solution made from elm tree sap and/or kelp was used as hair gel to glue the little contouring base pieces (貼片子/tie1 pian4 zi0) down to the face. Seven loops called 小灣/小湾/xiao3 wan1/'little curves' line the hairline, one in the center and three off to the sides. I think they look kind of similar to the hairstyle that ballroom dancers have.

This was an artsy hanfu concept shoot, so I didn’t want to necessarily copy the operatic hairstyles—not to mention I don't know how, the motion of making one hair loop alone can take 3-5 years to train—but I did want to include some elements of the opera characters as a nod to their role in popularizing the legend! So each hair design has that central loop. It’s a separate hair piece that I bought for this shoot, whose base I covered with some of the other hair. It isn't glued down like it would be traditionally. I was going to have a few more loops coming down on the sides too, but I found that it looked kind of awkward so I took them off.

There are also two thin strands of hair trailing down each shoulder, another element partially inspired by Chinese opera styling, but it’s very common nowadays to have those there just for the Vibes so it’s not as unique. Most dan roles have a section of long unbound hair trailing down their backs, with two small strands separated out to stream down the front. This is called 線尾/线尾/xian4 yi3/'thread tail' or 線簾/线帘/xian4 lian2/'thread curtain.'

Makeup

Okay so this mostly ended up being about hair rather than makeup because I know a lot more about hair than makeup, but I'll talk a bit about the makeup too lol. I can't speak for the White Snake's makeup—Yulan was in charge of that and she did a marvelous job!—but I did do my own makeup.

The makeup for the green snake came with a great challenge: how do you make my face, arguably the roundest and most nonthreatening thing you’ve ever seen, into something resembling a snake demoness? Also, flamboyant makeup in cool colors can be tricky—too little and it’ll all disappear on camera, too much and it’ll look like a muddy green mess.

Both my sister and I are fairly warm-toned; green has to be very concentrated in a very small area to look interesting, otherwise it just looks like a bruise (I tried it). So I tried to use a lot of long thin lines of color and angles in the eyeshadow to avoid that, and to kind of draw out the snakey vibes. The meager selection of green eyeshadows that I had weren't the most pigmented, so we made a stop at Sephora (my first time in Sephora believe it or not) on the way from LAX to Riverside and bought some supplies. They turned out to be super super useful.

One of my favorite makeup features was a my sister’s suggestion—fake pearl ‘snake bite’ piercings under the bottom lip! It’s a fun little linguistic easter egg that I’m super happy to have been able to incorporate into her styling.

宋人宋高宗后坐像，Taiwan National Palace Museum, 她：女性形象與才藝，2020 Look closely and you'll see dozens of tiny women depicted in pointillism on her guan headdress!

Pearl makeup （珍珠花鈿/珍珠花钿/zhen1 zhu1 hua1 dian4）was really popular throughout several dynasties, but especially the Song Dynasty, where it became a huge trend among nobles. Today it mostly appears in hanfu circles, but I believe some Southern Chinese opera styles use them too.

As far as I know, the position that we put them in under the bottom lip is anachronistic, but they did often appear at the corners of the mouth/the dimples (面靨/面靥/mian4 ye4), so if you stretched it a little and imagine they've just been moved slightly, I could probably claim that it's at least historically inspired.

元人畫梅花仕女, Taiwan National Palace Museum, 她：女性形象與才藝，2020

Other places that pearl makeup often appeared was on the temples, cheeks, or forehead. I also put a pair under my eyes just for funsies (I find that using smaller-sized pearls looks better to me, even though the ones shown in paintings are usually fairly large).

Okay that ended up being a lot longer than I thought it would be. I am so tired wow. The next one might take a while to come out too, but hope this one was enjoyable :)

1 Introduction & Presentation // 2 Background & Influences // 3 Hair & Makeup // 4 Set Design // 5 Clothes & Accessories // 6 Conclusion

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valentine-cafe · 2 months ago

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Hello! This is my first time requesting from your acc but I've been reading your works for a while now and I just gotta say, keep up the good work!

For my order, I want Rishima!781 with a transmasc reader who keeps sending her videos of him playing with himself, teasing (and begging her) to come home and come take care of him (all while she's at work) ♡♡♡

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. . . verse 781 rishima x transmasc reader!! 🍒 :﹙scientist ˖ professor character﹚

explain

﹙ cws﹚: explicit content˖ masturbation ˖ teasing ˖ nipple play ˖ penetrative sex ˖ riding˖ brat taming | wc : 1.7k

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Soft machinery ambience of a busy one-man laboratory thrums comfortably into the ears of the scientist typing away at her keyboard, working attentively.

Beautiful magenta eyes stay in focus on the numbers and words appearing on the monitor each time she writes something new and changes up an old code.

The tunnelvision on the computer leaves her in a trance as usual. Working, something she truly is married to. Without it, she feels restless and uneasy. Aside from when she’s got you or her husband with her.

Even so, work goes on. A thing that makes you want to test her limits at times. A fun little game you’ve found yourself enjoying quite a lot. A tease, or perhaps two. You love the way her eyes twitch just slightly when it gets to her.

Message upon message you send her. Teases, videos, voicenotes, each time you end up with the messy fucking from both sides. You do it on purpose and she hates it. As much as she also loves it.

It would be lying if she said she didn’t need any sort of stress relief such as. But she does.

Beep.

Unfocusing her eyes immediately her body moves out of the chair. Like a reflex almost. After all these years of work in laboratories, her ears grow sharp and so do her reactions.

The small vials of blood she had put through assessment are immediately labelled with the aetheer’s names that she tested on. One of them being her son.

It’s time to change up his stabiliser. The old ones do not work on him anymore. This poor boy. He can’t seem to catch a break, can he?

Ah, no matter. He loves being who he is, it benefits his work. Which he is just as hooked on as his mother.

Putting away the blood tests into their respective corner, she makes her way back to her desk. Seating herself in the workchair she has had with her for she doesn’t know how long. But as long as it still feels good to sit in and her back doesn’t feel like it’ll break. It’s fine.

Soft fingertips ready themselves to type away at the keyboard once more, but end up being distracted as her phone plings with a notification. Her right hand immediately shooting over to see whether or not it was a message from an aetheer group— but it wasn’t.

It was from you.

She sighs, brows raised in question when she sees it is an attatched file message that was sent.

Might as well check quickly.

Absentmindedly, her left hand continues to type away at the desktop keyboard. Knowing numbers and equations in her head so well now she doesn’t need to look to make sure she gets it right. The muscle memory in her fingers is insane.

You know it very well.

A memory that will always stick to your mind was after you had healed up from bottom surgery- the feel of her hand pumping away so skillfully left your head spinning, you had squirted your cum all over her hand and she cleaned it up happily after.

Rishima opened up the messages and saw a dark screen, and so she squints her eyes. Wondering whether this was an accidental video or not.

But then she saw the timespan of it. Almost 3 minutes? Maybe it was a voice message.

The second her thumb tapped at it, you loaded in on the screen, your thumb teasing at your tip, while whining for her.

Quickly she ceased typing on the keyboard of the desktop, and just sat and watched, thrown off guard by the sudden images. Well, as thrown off guard as she could be. She show’s it to very little amounts. Her hand shakes a little, while her throat goes dry.

“Rishi baby. . . fuc-k, come home. Always working so ha-ngh, hard” You whimper pathetically, though she can hear the grin in your voice.

Without knowing, her teeth find her plush bottom lip and sink into it. You splutter your small begs and moans, and just as you are about to start pumping at your shaft, you move the camera to your beautiful face. Your handsomly, irritatingly gorgeous face. With eyes rolling back, while you laugh.

You know exactly what you’re doing.

She typed that as well in the chat as she finished the video, face red, as she put the phone away and she started working once more.

. . .

Well, for very little time, as another pling sounds from her phone.

A text, from you.

I’m not doing anythiiing, Rishima. Come home I miss you :((

A pair of lungs stutter with a hitch, while he thumbs move swiftly across the screen of the phone to respond to your message. Though she only gets halfway through

Behave yourself you know i’m at wor |

Be |

The message is immediately deleted as a picture pops onto the chat, she can see everything. From your chest and down. Those pretty top surgery scars, she adores tracing and pressing soft kisses to when the both of you go to bed together on rare occasions.

She denies the way you make her pussy flutter the second she sees how you’re squeezing at yourself, straddling one of the pillows while jerking off.

With quick clearing of her throat, she puts the phone away to continue working.

Oh but, Rishima, what worth is it to keep going when you await another message?

Ping, another message— another video.

Why bother watching it. She asks herself, rising from her chair, running a hand through her hair and clapping to turn off the laboratory’s functions. Except for those who need to run overnight scans and assesments.

If anything she’ll phone Javier and ask him to watch over the place while she’s gone.

Stop sending, and get ready. Doll.

The response came quicker than you’d thought it would. But with excitement sparkling in your eyes, you start pumping away at your erection. Letting out a small moan and breathless call for her name.

You feel her hand take over quickly the second she’s stepped out of the portal from the order. The ethereal light from it enhancing her beauty. Gods Why does she have to be so fucking pretty?

“F-Fuck, took you long enough.” You tease. Only for the grin that you wore previously fall into a large gape of your mouth. Your arousal drooling onto her hands.

“Shut up.” She groans, peppering kisses down your neck and to your pelvis. Her hands tugging at the panties she was wearing and slipping them off. While you take no time to get any of her clothes off. The shirt thrown to the side, with the bra scattered to a corner of the room.

Her skirt when last, your hands gripping eagerly at her hipdips. Enjoying the feel of the warm squish and tummy rolls below your palms when you move them up and down her sides. Breast in your mouth to suck at her nipple.

“Mngh— easy.” She whines.

So sensitive. It makes you chuckle in satisfaction, while your fingers move to rub at her clit. Left hand guiding her wetting cunt down against the hard cock, rubbing it inbetween her folds to collect the slick. The beautiful drawled out moans echoing out in the room shoots excitement through your tummy.

The bed puffs softly when Rishima lands in the soft pillows and mattress. Black hair sprawled out and her eyes tired but aroused.

You run your hands back to her hips again, squeezing at then gently. She’s needed some help with easing up. So you are here to help her.

Slowly, you begin pushing in. Still getting used to the feeling of being able to- and feeling it. The way her velvet walls clamp down on you sends your head backwards, a groan vibrating out of you while you smile, already delirious at the feeling of her wet cunt welcoming you in happily like the whore she is.

“Missed me huh?”

“M- mm— you’re infuriating.” She responds, gasping at the small thrusts and strokes that you begin with. The pace building as you both ease into the feel. Her arms slung around your shoulders. Red stained lips worshipping your jaw and cheeks.

“Fuck. Rishima.” You quitely groaned against her ear. Your hips jutting against her, stuttering as you felt her walls clamp down on your throbbing cock for dear life. As if they’re begging you not to go.

Whines begin cascading down on the pillowcases. As the woman below you begins moving her hips in tandem with yours. It feels so perfect and you—

Suddenly you’re flipped over. The warm cunt your dick settled in momentarily off of it. And you’re about to complain, until you feel the warmth of it come back down. And you throw your head back into the pillows with a crosseyed smile.

“Yeah, p-please— please faster”

Oh your adorable begging. She can’t deny you the pleasure of going a bit faster now, can she? Her own chest begins convulsing slightly from the stuttered breaths and moans. Hands supporting her on your chest. While her breasts bounce and jiggle with the rhythm of your position every time her cunt lands down to the base of your weeping dick.

Her hand moves to grip your jaw, making you look at the sight of your bodies joined together. The sight of your dick inside of her, the sounds of skin against skin — The mixing juices. gods, it’s all too much. You feel a rush clash through you. Orgasm rolling it’s toll and taking the whole run around the room to make moans bounce on and off the walls.

You hear her join in, the feel of her cum squirting with yours, and her body collapsing onto yours makes you instinctively wrap your arms around her waist and fuck into her desperately, with nothing but sloppy and messy thrusts and plunges to pull both orgasms out of you to their end.

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alittlebitofloveliness · 3 months ago

Text

Wassup y'all, I'm back from lowkey radio silence with another hot take.

I've been trying to figure out lately why my multishipper ass dislikes a lot of ships within the fandom- more specifically a lot of greaser/soc pairings, and I realised at the core of it it's because there is no conceivable universe where they work without completely changing canon or the personalities of the characters. or at the very least their loyalties and motivations. Narratively, the novel is very clear about this, it even throws Marbit in our faces to prove it, showing (greaser) Two-bit his absolute dream girl who is beautiful and fun and likes him too , and yet is forever unattainable because she's a soc.

"Oh but Lovely, you ship Marbit! And you've written Parry! Obviously you're just hating on our ships."

No, I'm not. I very specifically DON'T hate on any ship, because that makes fandom less fun and more toxic and that is the LAST thing I want to do and because everyone deserves to have their blorbos and their ships that make them happy, I'm not here to yuck anyone's yum. And I realise my claiming I can't see greaser/soc pairings and using Marbit as an example of why while also actively shipping them looks very hypocritical. That said, I ship both Marbit and Parry in a very specific way, that would work canon compliantly, or at the absolute minimum still within canon verse without changing the tensions or the history between the east side and the west wide, or the characters as people.

Do I think Marbit could work in canon (in a post canon verse)? Absolutely I do- but not with Marcia staying a soc, or (more unlikely) Two-bit staying a greaser. If it's going to work- and I think it will because they are each others person, in any universe, whether it works or not- then Marcia either needs to fully acccept that the man she's in love with is a greaser and will always be a greaser, he is from the east side, and he has nothing set up in terms of a future, and no family money to keep him safe and sheltered. She needs to accept it, and accept Two-bit in the process, and embrace a life where she is ok with it being her future, particularly if she and Two-bit ever want to date in the open, and definitely if they ever want to get married. If Marcia wants Two-bit she needs to be prepared for the judgment she will face from her peers for marrying a man so far 'beneath' her, has to be prepared for potentially being disowned/cut off by her parents, needs to be okay with the realities of east side life becoming her reality. In a slightly different reality, Two-bit needs to be prepared for marrying Marcia meaning he needs to clean up his act, needs to realise it will entail being forever looked down on by her family and friends (if they stay in contact), be prepared for Marcia's parents to pull some strings and get him a decent job, not a soc level one but one available to the upper middle class and definitely not poor kids. If Two wants Marcia he needs to recognise that it will mean no more petty thieving and no more booze and being viewed as a class traitor by the majority of his neighbourhood. In either version he has to be ready to deal with the people who will tell him he's ruining Marcia' life, that he dragged her away from her life and her potential, will perhaps have to grapple with those feelings even if they come from no one but himself.

But I still could see them working in canon, and working as themselves, but their relationship would always be affected by soc and greaser dynamics and if they work out, one of them will forever be viewed as a class traitor, and it will absolutely not be smooth sailing no matter how much they love each other.

Parry is a little bit different, but it's still a greaser/soc ship I could see fitting in canon, or in universe without egregiously changing the characters or class tensions, and a big part of why is because it's a clandestine relationship that is doomed from the start, and is doomed in every universe. It's a first love, a secret gay relationship between teenage hypermasculine football players in the 60s. Here, class tensions probably caused tension in the relaionship, but outside pressures would be less because Darry was well liked by even the rich kids and known to be going places, and also because the relationship itself never saw the light of day. The reason I ship Parry but only when they're doomed is because it very obviously could happen: Darry could kiss Paul in secret and still be a greaser loyal to this neighbourhood, and Paul could snog Darry and still be an upstanding upper class golden boy without looking like he's punching down, because no one knew they were dating in the first place. They could have truly loved each other when they were together and in canon it means nothing except the fact that their fight was a bit more personal than any other at the rumble, because neither of them ever intended for their relationship to be anything but a secret. They knew it would never be real in the sense they could have a life together, so it fits in canon because they characters were only ever going to be themselves, and as themselves their social classes make it so they are fundamentally incompatible, even if homophobia wasn't a barrier that it so obviously would have been. Darry and Paul work as a plausible couple because they never plausibly would have ever made a go of a serious relationship, and they both know it.

"Oh but Lovely," you say "by that logic any greaser/soc gay ship works in canon verse or canon adjacent verse. You should be able to see/ship any of them." To which I say no, not necessarily. First of all, not every queer person throughout history was okay with having a secret relationship- quiet ones sure, but gay people had 'roommates' in the sixties, and i think textually there is a lot of evidence to support that the majority of the Outsiders characters, were they queer, would not be particularly interested in being anyone's dirty little secret. And even if that weren't the case, and they'd be fine with a secret relationship, the fact remains that the greasers and the socs don't like each other. In fact, they canonically despise each other to the point where violence between the groups is commonplace. Darry was in a very unique position as captain of the football team and boy of the year, to form a connection with Paul that would be able to blossom into romance. He had a level of comfort and familiarity with the socs that the vast majority of the greasers don't have, and would never attempt to or even want to attain. The average greaser sees the socs as a danger and the reason they always get the short end of the stcik, and the average soc sees the greasers as ruffians and thugs, dirt under their shoes that belongs there. Yes, the book makes the point that all people are just people, but from what we see textually the chances of a greaser and a soc- particularly of the same gender- getting close enough to form a romantic attachment is slim to none unless both sides got really cool with a bunch of stuff really quickly after the rumble.

ANWAY if anyone is still here thank you for listening to my rambly unedited thoughts from 2am, these are my reasons for not shipping the majority of greaser/soc pairs, I hope they make sense

#the outsiders #darry curtis #paul holden #parry #darrel curtis #peril #two bit mathews #marcia the outsiders #marbit #the outsiders meta

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theconstantsidekick · 20 days ago

Text

Avengers: Age Of Ultron ft. Static (4) | s.r

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader, Tony Stark x Stark!Reader (siblings)

Genre: Lots of angst with some little fluff

Summary: Tony Stark's brilliant plan to save the world has given birth to the Terminator. What does Y/n Stark have to save about that?

(These scenes incorporate y/n, yet to be codenamed—Static, into the pre-existing story as a character without making drastic changes to the plot or mythos. All the major plot points from the MCU remain in place with the addition of the reader as Static, who is not only a Stark but also enhanced. Whatever events from the canon aren’t mentioned, take place without much change.)

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Violence, Some Actual Violence, but nothing too bloody

a/n: i'm hungry for love and attention. please comment below and let me know what you think.

Avengers : Age of Ultron ft. Static (3) | Series Masterlist | The Avengers (ft. Static) | Captain America: The Winter Soldier (ft. Static) | Static Verse Masterlist

Here’s the thing—and yeah, it’s going to sound a little crazy, but here’s the thing—she should have seen this coming a mile away. She really should have. If she looks at it long enough, objectively and long enough, she realises, she really should have seen this coming because anyone with half a mind should have been able to. She definitely should have been able to.

And she should have stopped it before it happened.

Because now, her brother—the resident mad scientist—Tony Stark has gone full Frankenstein, built himself a murderbot, and, surprise surprise, it immediately decided patricide wasn’t enough. Nope, this one’s aiming to wipe out the Avengers first, then move on to the whole damn planet. Talk about an overachiever.

Like creator, like creation, she thinks to herself.

So, yeah, she should have stopped it before it happened.

Y/n stands near the back of the lab, arms crossed, shoulders tense. The room is bright, bathed in the glow of screens and flickering projections, but the energy inside is electric—tight with frustration, dread, and something else she can’t quite name yet.

Her eyes are stuck on one single person in the room.

Tony.

And Tony is standing over a table that lays bare the carcass of his creation.

“All our work is gone,” Bruce lets them all know, shaking his head.“Ultron cleared out. Used the internet as an escape hatch.” He hovers over the console, eyes flicking across the empty data streams, lips pressed into a thin, grim line. His hands twitch like he wants to reach out, do something, fix something, but there’s nothing left to fix.

Steve stands rigid, one hand on his hip, the other resting atop the table which he leans against. “Ultron.” He shakes his head, like he cannot believe the stupidity of the situation, like he’s admonishing a child. And fuck if she doesn’t agree with him.

Natasha, standing near one of the workstations, tilts her head slightly, her expression unreadable. “He’s been in everything,” she says, sharp but calm. “Files, surveillance. Probably knows more about us than we know about each other.”

Now, that’s a comforting thought.

However, she has to give herself some credit. Her own blinding panic doesn’t stop her from noticing Natasha’s eyes fly up to meet Clint, who seems… she can’t place it, but he seems jarred by this.

Interesting.

She watches Rhodes pace a few steps, left hand gripping and massaging his right shoulder. “He’s in your files, he’s in the internet. What if he decides to access something a little more exciting?”

Maria Hill doesn’t even blink, but her motion halts where she sits. She stops plucking out the shards of glass from her foot. She already knows what he means. “Nuclear codes.”

Rhodey nods, his voice heavier now. “Nuclear codes.” He looks around the room, and his voice is softer when he says, “Look, we need to make some calls… assuming we still can.”

Natasha tilts her head, considering. “Nukes?” There’s something skeptical in her voice. “He said he wanted us dead—”

Steve cuts her off. “He didn’t say ‘dead’. He said ‘extinct’.”

Y/n clenches her jaw, a cold weight settling in her stomach. The words sit there, in the middle of the lab, suffocating.

Clint exhales through his nose, taking a few steps forward. “He also said he killed somebody.”

Sam finally chimes in, “But there wasn’t anyone else in the building.”

Tony, with slow, measured steps, walks over to the centre of the room, “Yes, there was.” For demonstration purposes, he brings up the now broken remnants of J.A.R.V.I.S. for all to see. The AI’s consciousness, once fluid and full of personality, now sits in front of them, in shattered fragments.

The hologram keeps glitching as Bruce walks over to assess the damage. “What?” Bruce remarks almost to himself, in utter disbelief. And he looks over at Tony, “This is insane.”

“J.A.R.V.I.S. was the first line of defense,” Steve states, arms crossed, head fallen. “He would’ve shut Ultron down. It makes sense.”

“No,” Bruce counters, “Ultron could’ve assimilated J.A.R.V.I.S…. This isn’t strategy—this is… rage.”

The sound of heavy footsteps makes everyone turn to look at the door.

She doesn’t even have time to react before Thor storms in, his expression carved from fury itself. His eyes burn with betrayal, his cape billowing behind him as he moves like a storm given human form. Before anyone can stop him, he closes the distance in two long strides, grabs Tony by the throat, and lifts him clean off the ground.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Sam yells out, but that’s not gonna stop Thor. Nothing’s stopping Thor, right about now.

“It’s going around,” Clint retorts from the viewing stands, hands on the railings.

Tony can’t really do much when the God of Thunder has him suspended mid air by his fucking neck. Well, other than run his mouth. So he says, “Come on. Use your words, buddy.”

Thor’s voice is low, thunderous. “I have more than enough words to describe you, Stark.” His fingers tighten around Tony’s throat.

Then, and only then, does she jump into action.

“And I suggest you use them in a peaceful manner.” She has a blade aimed at Thor’s throat—close enough to draw blood—before anyone can even comprehend what’s happening.

“Y/n.” Steve must have been aiming for de-escalation, he must have been aiming to reprimand her, but the surprise in his voice reigns supreme. He sounds plain astonished.

Thor, however, just chuckles, hand still gripping Tony's throat like a ragdoll. “You really want to do this, Little Stark?”

No, she doesn’t. “I don’t know? Do you?”

“He made that thing that attacked us, that wishes to see us dead,” Thor reasons, shaking her brother a little for emphasis. And fuck if that isn’t a great reason.

She shrugs, “So we both know a little bit about adopted brothers who have a habit of royally fucking up.” Thor looks at her then. “Still our brothers, aren’t they?”

Something passes between the two of them, an acknowledgement of a sentiment shared by Thor himself, earlier in the night—the bond of siblings is forged in the stars.

Thor puts him down. She takes the knife off his fucking neck. Tony goes stumbling back.

Steve, who’s been watching the entire exchange with unending curiosity, steps forward. “Thor, the Legionnaire?”

She makes her way back to her corner.

“Trail went cold about a hundred miles out but it's headed north.” He glares daggers at Tony while adding, “And it has the scepter.” He addresses the room, “Now we have to retrieve it, again.”

“The genie's out of that bottle,” Natasha states. Nodding over to the table with Ultron’s remains, she adds, “Clear and present is Ultron.”

“I don't understand,” Helen Cho speaks up, looking at the robot of the hour’s leftovers, trying to understand it in some way, shape or form. “You built this program,” she says, turning to Tony. “Why is it trying to kill us?

Tony, this fucker, starts laughing.

Bruce subtly shakes his head at him to get him to stop, but it doesn’t do jack shit.

“You think this is funny?” Thor asks him, annoyed.

“No,” Tony says, turning to face them. “It's probably not, right? Is this very terrible? Is it so…” He laughs again. “Is it so... it is! It's so terrible.”

“This could've been avoided if you hadn't played with something you don't understand,” Thor tells him.

Tony’s not in the listening mood, “No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It is funny.” He walks up to meet Thor head on, “It's a hoot that you don't get why we need this.”

Bruce, ever the peacekeeper, tries to reign him back in. “Tony, maybe this might not be the time to—”

“Really?!” Tony cuts him off. “That's it? You just roll over, show your belly, every time somebody snarls?”

“Only when I've created a murder bot,” Bruce bites back.

“We didn't!” Tony counters, arms wide. “We weren't even close. Were we close to an interface?”

While Bruce shrugs to indicate, ‘clearly, we must have been’, Steve’s had enough. “Well, you did something right,” he says, tone cutting. “And you did it right here.” Arms crossed, he takes a few steps closer to Tony. “The Avengers were supposed to be different than S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Anybody remember when I carried a nuke through a wormhole?”

“No, it's never come up,” Rhodey remarks, deadfaced and tired.

“Saved New York?” Tony adds.

“Never heard that,” Rhodey bites.

“Recall that?” Tony asks, voice loud as he stands in the centre of the room. “A hostile alien army came charging through a hole in space. We're standing three hundred feet below it.” He looks around the room, and then his voice softens, “We're the Avengers. We can bust arms dealers all the live long day, but, that up there? That's… that's the endgame.” He exhales. “How were you guys planning on beating that?” His eyes fall on Steve.

“Together.”

“We'll lose.”

“Then we'll do that together, too.”

Tony looks at him. He looks at Steve.

And while she’s not sure what he sees, she knows it hurts him, because then he turns away.

“Thor's right,” Steve continues after a pause, turning away. “Ultron's calling us out. And I'd like to find him before he's ready for us. The world's a big place. Let's start making it smaller.”

Everyone slowly disperses.

Everyone leaves the lab.

Except for Y/n and Tony.

“Is there something you’re waiting for?”

She cocks her head, but doesn’t respond.

“Is there a certain way the moon’s gotta be in the sky for you to start the ass-reaming of the century?” Tony challenges, like he knows what’s coming. Like he has any idea.

“Getting impatient, are we?” She bites back, easily, smoothly, without a hint of anger.

Clearly that hits a nerve, because he screams, “You’re mad at me! Be mad at me.”

“Mad doesn’t even begin to cover it,” she tells him.

His jaw clenches. “I did this for us—for you.”

“Do not put this on me, Anthony.”

He clenches his fists, in an attempt to restrain himself. “If it had worked out we would’ve been able to retire, live out our lives in relative peace. You would be able to quit this gig you despise so much.”

That strikes a nerve too. “Except it didn’t work out!” She yells out. “It didn’t fucking work out! No! Not unless your end goal was always to give birth to fucking Skynet!”

He inhales slowly. “I can acknowledge that I made a mistake. But my intentions—”

“You ever heard about the road to hell and good intentions?”

Both of them are trying not to blow up. They are trying to maintain some semblance of civility. It’ll crash eventually, they know that. But they try regardless.

She sighs, looking away. “Something happened on the last mission. Something happened—I don’t know what, you won’t tell me what. But something happened, that made you make Ultron.”

Tony puts his hand on the table in front of him, and leans on it. “I got a wake up call—that’s what happened.”

She crosses her arms, “Let me give you another one—this is what you do, it’s a pattern. It’s the Wallace situation all over again. You worry about the people you love and you go overboard. Now, the mayor’s kid might have been fine in the end, but I don’t think Howie’s money and an insincere apology is not going to fix whatever fucked up repercussion are going follow with Ultron.” She clicks her tongue. “You can’t keep doing this, Tony. You have to grow up at some point.”

He laughs at her, hollow and mocking. “Ironic, coming from you, isn’t it?”

“Tony,” she warns.

“Come on!” He chides. “Fess up! That’s what you’re really worried about—what you’re afraid of, isn’t it? That Ultron knows?”

She smiles then, “I may be a Stark, but I am not that self-centred. Ultron knowing is the least of my worries. What I am afraid of is what he’s gonna do, to us—to the world.” She shakes her head, disappointed. “Do we even understand what he’s really capable of? Do we know what he can do? Do you?” She stares him down. “And what happens if he does it? If we can’t stop him, what happens then? Huh, Tones? Will you be able to live with that?” Her tone is very cutting. “Will you be able to live with all that blood on your hands?”

“I’ll do what I always do—I’ll learn from you,” he retorts instantly. And man, he really has learnt everything from her to a T, because his tone is just as cutting as hers. “You seem to be cruising by just fine.”

Here comes the blow out.

“You fucking self-aggrandising, cocksucker!” She says it slowly, but her voice is loud and booming in the empty lab. “The world doesn’t revolve around you, you asshole!”

“No no no!” He shouts back. “Of course not! It revolves around you! What you think is right is the law! No one can ever go against Y/n Stark’s unimpeachable morals, that it?”

“You’re getting dangerously close to saying something you’ll regret.”

“Am I? See, ‘cause I don’t think I am!” He laughs. “I think I’m just stating facts and they’re hurting your fragile little ego. ‘Cause these facts are in clear disharmony of whatever image you’ve created of yourself in your head!” He takes a few steps closer to her. “You cry about having to do this shit, the hero bullshit, all the damn time, and the one time I try to break you out of it, you want me to what? Apologise for it, because I didn’t tell you about it? I didn’t run it by you before I made Ultron, that’s the main issue here!”

“It’s not the main issue, but it is an issue! Why didn’t you tell me?” She questions. “We tell each other fucking everything, so why not this?”

He claps his hands, “I am capable of individual thought, Y/n! Sometimes, I can make calls on my own, how about that?” He looks back at her, “I didn’t tell you about Ultron because you would have stopped me! He was necessary, and you would have stopped me!”

“No! No! You didn’t tell me ‘cause you knew it was a fucking risky idea to begin with—more than that it was absolutely stupid!”

“Science requires risk!”

“This was not a fucking lab experiment, man! There’s a robot out there in the world that wants the Avengers’ extinction! And that is on you!”

“You’re half the reason why we needed him to begin with! Without you, the Tesseract would’ve never been a factor, we wouldn’t have been subjugated to Loki’s fucking world ending nonsense. But no!” His words are laced with thick venom. “You wanted to be Daddy’s favorite, didn’t you? You wanted to impress the great Howard Stark!”

“Oh please, if there’s anyone in this room moved to make decisions based on Howard Stark’s fancies, it sure as shit ain’t me.” She meets him at the dead centre of the room. They are both fuming, panting, angrier than ever. “This is a result of your own fucking arrogance, Stark! No matter how much you try to pin this on me, this was all you! You wanted to be the hero! Well, guess what, Ozymandias? I’m looking at your work, ye Mighty, and I’ve got nothing but despair.”

He looks at her then, hurt clear in his eyes and he strikes. “Whatever our souls are made of—yours and mine are the same.”

That seems to be the last straw.

Unbeknownst to them—downstairs, where there was once a party, now stands the team.

Having heard the screaming and shouting from the lab, Rhodey’s eyes meet Steve’s.

“Are they—are they bickering?” Clint asks, sounding a little annoyed at the idea.

“No,” Rhodey states, grimly. “No, they’re fighting.”

He and Steve break into a run instantly, rushing up the stairs to get to the lab.

“They fight all the time,” Clint notes, confused at the rising tension.

“They bicker all the time,” Natasha corrects, following the two men. “This is not that.”

When they get to the lab, Steve goes towards Y/n while Rhodey moves to Tony.

Thor, Hill, Clint and Natasha have followed suit, and now they get to witness this—

The Stark are at each other’s throat.

Pushing, pulling, punching, biting, you name it.

They are cursing up a storm, trying to kill each other, with all the methods they can think of, except the ones that would work.

Steve and Rhodey try to pull them off of each other, but fail at it miserably.

“Being an asshole’s really a factory setting for you, isn't it?!”

“Takes one to know one!”

“You’re a fucking blind narcissist!” She screams, landing a punch on Tony’s jaw.

“And you’re a stupid little cry baby!” He kicks her. “You cry about having to do this all the fucking time. I try to give you a way out, now you’re crying about that too! Don’t you ever get tired of all this pathetic woe-is-me bullshit?”

“I don’t get time to dwell on it, seeing as I’m too preoccupied doing damage control for your unending fuck ups!”

“Guys! This is not helping anyone!” Steve tries, pulling her back.

But Tony takes that moment to escape Rhodey’s grasp and push her further into Steve’s arms. “I never asked you to clean up my messes!”

“Yeah well, Maria did!” She knees him in the stomach.

He happily and eagerly returns the favor. “Do not bring my mom into this!”

My mom.

Ah.

Now, that seems normal enough. Maria was his mother. Y/n never calls her mom, never tries to either. But both of them know, despite the fucked up-ness of their family dynamic, she does at some level think of Maria as her mom too. So, whenever Tony talks about her, he calls her ‘mom’—just mom. Not his, not theirs. Just mom. Because it’s a thing, okay? It’s an unspoken thing, which makes Y/n feel like she’s family. And Tony just shat all over that.

The fight leaves her as quickly as it came.

She deflates into Steve’s hold.

Tony, probably realising the weight of his words, halts his punch mid-air.

“You’re such a dick, Stark,” she says, voice small and broken. “I hate you.”

“Yeah, well,” Tony says, looking like a kicked puppy. “I hate you right back, Stark.”

With that, she storms out of the lab.

Rushing down the stairs, she tries to compose herself.

Avengers Tower is a ruin of what it was just hours ago. The remnants of the party—the elegant decor, the glittering glasses of champagne—are now lost beneath destruction. Shattered glass litters the marble floor, crunching under her heels, mingling with the twisted remains of Ultron’s drones. The air is thick with smoke, the metallic tang of burnt circuitry, and something else—something sour, like the aftermath of a fight that shouldn't have happened.

"Doll," comes a smooth voice from behind her.

She didn’t even hear him. A goddamn feat, considering Steve Rogers is built like a tank. But then again, what is he if not a walking, talking miracle?

"Steve." She needs to be alone. She needs to lick her wounds, swallow back the lump in her throat, cry maybe—but not here. Not in front of him.

The space, once filled with warmth and celebration, feels eerily empty now. The sleek barstools are knocked askew, half-drunk glasses abandoned, and in the distance, a flickering light overhead struggles to hold on.

"Baby," he says all too fucking sweetly, stepping closer, reaching for her.

She shoves him back. "I can’t do this, right now, Steve."

His boots scuff against the floor as he stops himself, adjusting his stance like he's bracing for something heavier than just her words. His shield leans against a shattered table nearby, smudged with dust and streaks of something darker. His face is taut, unreadable, but his eyes—his goddamn eyes—are filled with nothing but concern.

"Just—baby, just talk to me. I’m here." He’s relentless. Steady.

Too steady.

Her dress is torn, barely hanging onto the elegance it once had, and she’s never felt more exposed. The fight with Tony is still fresh in her mind, the words hurled like knives, leaving wounds that haven't even begun to scab over. The weight of it presses against her ribs, making it hard to breathe.

She focuses on the exit. It's right there. A clear path. "I appreciate that. I do, but not right now, okay?"

Steve exhales, the kind of sigh that sounds like disappointment, and it makes her stomach twist.

Great. I’m a disappointment to both the men I—

"You’re never gonna let me in, are you?"

And that, stings.

If anyone’s learned anything from whatever the fuck’s happened tonight, it’s that Starks don’t handle emotions with grace. They bury it. Ignore it. Or, more often than not, they explode.

So, she lashes out.

She turns to him, voice sharp. "You’re not the fucking Sun, Steve. Everything in my life doesn’t have to revolve around you. I just had a fight with my brother—I need a fucking second, alright? Sue me if that’s a goddamn crime!" Her voice echoes, bouncing off the steel and glass of the tower, filling the space that should have been filled with people—people who are long gone now.

She doesn’t want to do any more damage. There’s been enough of that for one night. She steps over broken debris, walking toward the exit, willing her body to move faster.

"I’m just asking my girl, who I—care about very, very much, to lean on me when she’s down. How is that a crime?" Steve’s voice is quieter now, but there’s something raw beneath it.

It makes her stop.

The silence between them is heavier than the wreckage around them. Outside, the city glows beyond the shattered windows, fractured reflections scattered across the floor.

"I—I," she what? She doesn’t fucking know. "I just need to be alone right now. Okay?"

With that, she leaves.

And Steve doesn’t try to stop her again.

Y/n Stark is a lot of things—a fighter, a cynic, a world-class expert in pretending she’s fine—but she’s not delusional enough to claim she doesn’t spend the rest of the night curled up in the dark, drowning in Leonard Cohen songs and crying like a goddamn idiot.

When she wakes up the next morning, she dresses her wound—both physical and emotional. And changes into a loose red, Led Zeppelin muscle-tee and a pair of light wash denims.

And then, gathering up all her courage, she makes two quick stops before heading back to the Avengers Tower.

Y/n finds the first person on her apology tour quite easily.

He’s standing on the stairs, bathed in the soft glow of sunlight peeking in through the windows, his broad frame tense, hands braced against the railing. His shoulders rise and fall with a slow, measured breath. He’s engaged in conversation with Maria, no doubt about Ultron’s misadventures.

For a second, she hesitates. The weight of their last conversation still lingers, and for all her sharp edges, for all her Stark-ness, she doesn’t like hurting him.

Still, she squares her shoulders and steps forward.

"Mind if I steal him for a sec?" she asks as Maria Hill and her boyfriend head up the stairs.

Hill glances between them, then nods at Steve before walking past. "He's all yours."

Steve finally turns, his expression unreadable. Y/n exhales and pulls her hand from inside her bag, presenting him with her apology.

"Tulips?" he asks, a curious smile tugging at his lips, though there’s still something guarded in his eyes. His hand rests lightly on his hip, but she can see the tension in the set of his jaw.

She shrugs. "The guy at the flower shop said they’re supposed to evoke feelings of forgiveness." She holds the bouquet out to him.

His smile softens as he takes them. "Did he now?"

She nods, shifting on her feet. "Do they? Educe forgiveness?"

Steve studies her for a beat, then steps in close, his movements quiet, deliberate. His hands settle at her waist. "You’ve got nothing to ask forgiveness for, Doll."

"I do," she insists, pressing her forehead into his chest, finally allowing herself to lean into him. "I shouldn’t have blown up at you. You were just trying to help. I was mad at Tony, and I let that spill over into our conversation. That wasn’t fair. I’m sorry, handsome."

His lips brush against the top of her head, feather-light. "You told me you needed space, and I didn’t listen. I pushed when I shouldn’t have. That wasn’t fair either."

She tilts her head up, smirking slightly. "Still doesn’t give me the right to be a dick."

Steve chuckles, shaking his head. Then, he plucks a single tulip from the bouquet and holds it out to her. "I’ll forgive you if you forgive me?"

She takes it, twirling the stem between her fingers. "Alright."

He grins. "We’re good?"

She narrows her eyes playfully. "I don’t know... I don’t feel forgiven. There’s no proof."

Steve huffs a laugh, catching on immediately. "Oh, my girl needs proof, is that it?"

"How else can I be sure—" She’s cut off by his lips crashing into hers, firm and certain.

When he finally pulls back, he murmurs against her lips, "Proof enough, Doll?"

She smirks. "Proof? Yes. Enough? Never."

Steve laughs, lacing his fingers through hers. "Come on, the team’s waiting. I’ll prove it some more later."

Y/n hums, swaying a little as she walks with him. "How much proof are we talking, exactly?"

"As much as it takes," he promises, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. "Could take hours, maybe even days. Real intensive process."

She gasps, mock scandalized. "Captain Rogers, are you suggesting homework?"

He smirks. "Extra credit, Doll."

She squeezes his hand, grinning as they near the hall.

Then, he hesitates, squeezing back. "You and Tony gonna be okay? Or should I get ready to shield up?"

She exhales, rolling her shoulders. "I don’t know," she admits. "But worst case scenario, you’ll either need a new lawyer, or end up one Iron Man short on your team."

“Neither seem like a great outcome, you know?” Steve chides.

“And here I thought you’d be happy to wash your hands off the Starks,” she feigns surprise, smiling.

Steve just rolls his eyes at her fondly. “Believe it or not, I’ve come around to not being able to imagine my life without the iconic Stark bickering.”

It makes her chuckle, “Oh, how the mighty have fallen!”

As they make their way through the hall, they spot Clint on their right. He’s on the phone talking to someone.

“Barton,” Steve calls out to him. “Might have something.”

“Gotta go,” Clint says into the phone and hangs up immediately.

“Who’s that?” Steve questions.

Clint, ever the spy, casually answers, “Girlfriend.”

And maybe Steve buys that, but she knows something’s fishy. She knows a liar when she sees one. Mostly because she is one.

Back in the lab, the tension is… palpable, to say the least.

Tony stands to Bruce’s left, arms crossed, eyes locked onto Y/n like she just personally hacked into his bank account. Y/n, for her part, stares right back, standing beside Steve, who is currently—very seriously—trying to shove the tulips into a glass of water like some kind of floral MacGyver.

"Stark."

In perfect, eerie synchronicity, they both pull out a small box and offer it to the other.

The team watches as they eye each other’s offering with deep, almost surgical suspicion—like this is some high-stakes ransom deal where one wrong move could set off a diplomatic crisis.

Then, in complete silence, they exchange boxes with the solemnity of two world leaders signing a peace treaty.

Y/n slings her bag onto the nearest table and flips open the box.

"They ran out of—"

"Plain glazed," Tony finishes around a bite of his donut. "I know."

She nods, and follows suit, taking a bite of hers.

And just like that—poof. Tension? Gone.

Clint blinks. "That’s it? That’s all it took? They were ready to rip each other’s guts out last night and now—one donut later—it’s all rainbows and butterflies?"

Natasha, without even looking up, "Don’t question it."

"But—"

"Trust me," she cuts in, her voice carrying the weight of experience. "It’s better than the alternative."

“Which is…?” Bruce asks.

“A civil-war,” both Starks, Natasha and Steve reply in unison.

Satisfied with the answer, the team moves on to more pressing matters.

Steve presents the tablet with Strucker’s photo to the team.

“What’s this?” Tony asks.

Thor grabs it.

“A message,” Steve answers.

Thor slams the tablet on Tony’s chest, in lieu of handing it over.

“Ultron killed Strucker,” Steve states, gravely.

Tony takes the tablet, looks it over. “And he did a Banksy at the crime scene… just for us.”

Bruce looks curiously at the image, while Natasha cuts in, “This is a smoke screen. Why send a message when you’ve just given a speech?”

“Strucker knew something that Ultron wanted us to miss,” Steve surmises.

Natasha begins typing away where she sits on the computer, “Yeah, I bet he—” Computer beeps. “Yeah. Everything we had on Strucker’s been erased.”

“Not everything,” Y/n reminds them.

The team spreads out, looking through boxes and boxes of physical files.

Thor’s hurling them around like he’s in a frisbee throwing competition, meanwhile Steve brings up a box and sets it on the table.

“Known associates,” he states.

Bruce is sitting off to Y/n’s side, while Tony comes to stand right next to her, wedging himself between Steve and her.

“Baron Strucker had a lot of friends,” Steve notes, as they all begin to go through the files.

“Well, these people are all horrible,” Bruce says dryly, and the man’s not wrong. But come on, what was he expecting?

“Wait!” Y/n yelps when she sees the file in Bruce’s hand. She slaps Tony’s arm to grab his attention.

“I know that guy,” Tony points at the photo and Bruce passes him the file. “From back in the day,” he explains. “He operates off the African coast, black market arms.” Clint walks over to the them, hearing that while Tony passes his photo around.

Steve gives him an accusing look.

“There are conventions, alright? You meet people, I didn't sell him anything,” Tony dismisses easily. “He was—he kept talking about finding something new, right?” He turns to look at Y/n in question.

She nods, “A game changer, or whatever.”

“It was all very, ‘Ahab’,” Tony finishes.

“This?” Thor asks, pointing to the guy’s neck in the photo.

“Aahh, it’s a tattoo—I don’t think he had it,” Tony supplies.

“No, this is a tattoo, this is a brand,” Thor corrects.

Now that piques her curiosity. She takes a step back, and comes to stand behind Steve and Thor to get a look at the photo.

And she knows instantly.

Bruce, however, trying to be helpful looks it up on the computer.

The result comes up within seconds, “Oh yeah, it’s a word in an African dialect, meaning thief.”

She cannot help the chuckle that slips out. Staring at the symbol, she says, “In a—and I am underplaying it significantly here—much less friendly way.”

Clint and Bruce raise a questioning brow at her but she ignores it.

“What dialect?” Steve asks.

“Wakanada...? Wa...Wa...” Bruce fumbles.

“Wakandan,” she supplies.

Steve and Tony’s ears perk up instantly.

“If this guy got out of Wakanda with some of their trade goods…” Tony begins.

“I thought your father said he got the last of it?” Steve questions.

Y/n walks over to them, donut in hand, chewing. “Oh please! Howard didn’t get the last of it. He was gifted—some of it.” She points to the picture of the man in the files, “And Tony’s friend Ulysses Klaw here, stole a bunch of it.”

Meanwhile Bruce chimes in, “I don't follow. What comes out of Wakanda?”

Tony looks back over to Steve’s shield that’s sitting on the floor against a table, “The strongest metal on earth.”

“How much are we talking about it?” Natasha asks her.

“Clearly enough to be branded for it,” Thor remarks.

Y/n scoffs. “Oh, more than that, actually.” She looks at them then, “In Wakanda it is customary to brand the thief with that symbol before he’s taken to be executed.” Everyone’s face morphs into grim surprise. “Yeah, they take that shit really seriously. So much so, that I know for a fact he’s still being hunted by them through every corner of this world. Which means he’s been pretty underground ever since. He only comes up for air, once in a while to keep funding his under the surface escapades, but that’s about it.”

“How do you know all this?” Clint throws back, clearly confounded. “Why do you know all of this?”

She pulls a face, “You’re the former S.H.I.E.L.D. operative, why don’t you?”

“Do you know where this guy is now?” Steve asks, looking at Y/n.

She just smiles.

Find the Static Verse Masterlist here. Read The Avengers (ft. Static) here.

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deanbrainrotwritings · 1 year ago

Text

— THE LOVE LETTER COLLECTION : PART ONE

SUMMARY : being a dreamwalker, seeing every universe, having a hot boyfriend. there’s a million perks to that. this is the sad version.

PAIRING : dean winchester x dreamwalker!reader (f.)

CHARACTERS : rowena macleod, sam winchester

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), angst, fluff, almost-smut, talk about depression, low self esteem, thoughts about past prostitution

WORD COUNT : 11k

A/N : title from a jamie's elsewhere song. this fills the time travel square on my @jacklesversebingo card. inspired by loki season two, please don’t change by Jungkook, and the spider-verse movie. no spoilers. This is written from Dean's perspective and in first person (it was fun but tough) X

I couldn’t sleep tonight.

It’s normal.

She’s asleep next to me, breathing slow and quietly. Her chest rises subtly with each breath. Her lips are parted, just slightly.

Her soft hair is splayed over the pillow like the rays of a sun and she’s facing me. One of her hands rests on her stomach and the other is bent upwards beside her, her hand resting in a loose fist by her neck.

Her steel necklace rests haphazardly over her neck. The chain is thin and fragile. Glimmering in the faint light coming through the opaque hotel curtains. A tiny and thin, rectangular centrepiece is lined with miniature gems and suddenly stops leaving a centimetre free of plain steel, and it rests in the dip of her collarbone.

She’s quiet tonight. Laying still, unmoving. I smile at her, resist the urge to touch her smooth skin or brush her hair away from her shoulders. She wakes up easily, a light sleeper, the cutest one. I’m surprised my staring doesn’t wake her.

Memories move in and try to overcast my mind. At least she takes me away from the darkness that threatens to consume me. Right now, I’m focused on her and the way she breathes.

I try reminding myself of what I have right now. Her. Sam. Cas. Jack. That’s all that matters. I won’t even remember why the feelings overflooded my chest, poisoning my mind, breaking me down until I’m down. In the morning, when the sun shines and pours through the window, I realise it isn’t so bad. When her soft voice flows into my ears, when the flowery aroma of her intoxicates me, when her warm touch comforts me, when the sweet taste of her lips makes me forget what I had been worried about at night.

It’s always the same. Like her, I learned to live with the pain.

She moans softly beside me. Not a sexy moan. It sounds irritated at something. I turn fully onto my side to face her, panic makes my stomach sink. I frown and my train of thought is lost as I wait to see if she’s having a nightmare or not.

She mumbles something I can’t understand, but she doesn’t seem to be in distress. She turns over onto her side, facing me fully. Strands of her hair fall gracefully over her face. I move back slightly but her arm lands in my waist, trapping me in place by entwining her legs with mine. I squirm when her elbow pokes my ribs and I reach out at last, caressing her cheek. With a few whispers of her name and some gentle prodding, she shuts up and her eyes flutter open.

She groans gently and whispers my name, adorably disoriented. I chuckle and lean forward to kiss her forehead before she could even fully wake up. She hums anyway, satisfied and scoots closer to me. Her soft legs slide against mine again; it makes me warm.

She’s moving up on the bed, too, and slides one of her arms under my neck to pull me closer. I willingly go and I grin as soon as my face is pressed against the top of her breasts. I breathe her in and close my eyes. Her skin smells amazing and she gently starts scratching my scalp with her nails. I moan quietly when a shiver runs up my spine and I keep her in place with one arm wrapped around her waist from beneath her.

I move my other hand up to her jaw to tip her head back to kiss her neck. I can hear her breath hitch and she starts to squirm, her thighs become tense and they start to move against my own. When I thread my fingers through her hair and tug weakly, she rolls her hips against mine.

She’s breathing heavier already. I love how she reacts to me.

Heat blooms in my stomach, my cock twitches, and my insides clench instantly when she wraps her arm around my shoulder and then pulls my own hair. I grunt softly against her neck, but she’s pulling away. Her nose bumps against mine and she finds my lips with her own, soft and warm.

I hold her tighter, lowering my hand to squeeze her ass. She smiles against my mouth and I do, too, nibbling on her bottom lip. I move her hair away from her face before sliding my hand down her shoulder, teasingly bringing the strap of her bralette down. She arches her chest into me and I lean down to latch onto her nipple once I get the soft material beneath her chest.

“What were you dreaming about?” I ask curiously. My warm breath hits her wet nipple and she shudders. I slid my hand out from beneath her to play with the hem of her underwear. Slowly, I let my hand sneak into the front.

“Uh,” she trails off distractedly, she attempts to hold me in place against her breasts. I didn’t have any plans on doing anything besides that, but I pulled away on purpose to watch her open her eyes and complain about my inactivity. “Hey, why’d you stop?”

I smirk at her and I pull my hand out of her underwear to hug her, pressing a kiss against her shoulder. I roll over on top of her, holding her in place with my hips against hers. “I wanna know what you dreamt of. You were moaning and movin’ around,” I explained with a frisky grin, trying to make her think that I’m assuming it was a wet dream.

She frowns instead and asks, “did I wake you?” She cups my cheeks and my face softens as I look down at her. I shake my head and I drop kisses along her face until I hear her laugh quietly. “You should’ve woken me if you couldn’t sleep,” she murmured.

I shake my head again and she rolls her eyes, pushing me away to turn her back to me. I follow her immediately to kiss her cheek, to make her not be irritated at me. She’s smiling before I even land a kiss to her face and I grab a handful of her ass instead, squeezing in retaliation.

“I was just gonna grab my phone,” she lies and laughs. She starts to wiggle around and almost fails to laugh quietly, trying to get me off her when I tickle her neck with kisses. I let her go eventually and she immediately reaches for her phone on the nightstand. Her screen turns on when she tilts her phone towards herself, a photo of me naked flashes my face and I get flustered, taking the phone from her after she whined, “it’s gonna be four?”

I stare at the photo in surprise. The photo was cut off at the bottom, barely showing my hip bones, hiding what she had been doing to me. I remember that day, it was our anniversary. We spent about two days together. She was giving me a handjob and she convinced me to let her take a couple of pictures. Who am I to deny her that?

Let’s just say there are more photos and a video.

“Hey! Give it back,” she pouted, wrapping her small hand around my wrist. I ignore her, and move away from her sneaky hands as I blush when my eyes trail back up to my face on the photo. I look like I’m about to orgasm.

“That’s a photo of me,” I stated bluntly. I unlocked her phone curiously and lo and behold, it’s a picture of me fucking her. My stomach clenches, I’m thrilled, even my cock starts to harden at the sight of me standing on my knees, my hand is splayed over her pelvis and my thumb is on her clit.

“Oh, I thought it was a photo of Henry Cavill,” she answers flatly. I feel my heartbeat rise and I bite my lip, I focus on her more than on myself, even if most of what I can see is me. I couldn’t decide whether to look at her in front of me or to keep staring at the angle she took the photo from.

“Shut up,” I mumble, fascinated by the high quality of her photo. I had used a pillow to angle her hips upwards. I was holding her leg up by her ankle and she had her other leg thrown over my hip… the sounds she made that day, they were unforgettable.

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” She asks suddenly, snapping me out of my horny daze. I look over at her and watch her bite her lip shyly. “I can change it, it was a joke… mostly.. at first, because now I enjoy looking at it. It’s not very convenient when I’m around other people though…” she rambled thoughtfully.

I don’t say anything and I set her phone down on the pillow. I pry her legs open with my hand and I slip my fingers inside her underwear, teasing her wet labia, tracing her entrance, and then I lift my wet fingers up to ghost them tortuously over her swollen clit.

“You like looking at it?” I smirk down at her. She bites her lip harder, staring up at me in attempts to look innocent as she nods at me. Her eyes shut momentarily and she starts to wiggle her hips impatiently. “What happened to you? You were so shy when we started dating,” I tease, making a ‘v’ with my fingers. I slide my hand down to cup her pussy, her clit brushes against the sides of my fingers and she gasps softly.

“You made me a slut. A horny one,” she whines playfully.

“You’re not a slut,” I laugh, brushing my lips against her cheek.

“Have you seen how I dress now? I feel so hot when I’m with you,” she admitted breathily. I blush at her words and my stomach flutters.

“Wearing sexy clothes don’t make you a slut, angel,” I reassure her and push my middle finger into her. She feels warm. I can feel the texture of the inside of her against my fingers and it turns me on. She’s wet and I love the feel of it every time I pull my finger out of her. “I’m not gonna stop you from doing what you wanna do. Or tell you how to dress. Or call you a slut when you wear… sexy clothes to seduce me. Besides, you look hot as hell to me all the time. And if I make you feel hot enough to wear somethin’ that you usually wouldn’t wear, I think I’m doin’ a pretty damn good job at being your boyfriend.” She’s speechless, either from the way I curl my finger inside her or from the words I just spoke to her. “You are seriously horny though. What’s up with that? You act like I don’t fuck you enough.” I say that and I add another finger inside her.

I stare as her head rolls to the side. She bites her lip, arches her back, and her legs spread open some more. She’s so sexy without even trying.

“I dunno about that one,” she murmured, “I think you’re so fuckable when you do stuff for me like you’ve read my mind, when you say stuff like what you just said right now.. when you’re.. you,” I smirk and lean in for a quick kiss. “I want to feel you everywhere. All over me. All the time. I’ve never wanted for someone as badly as I want for you. I’ve never needed someone as badly as I need you. You make me feel. I want to… I dunno… match you when it comes to sex... You’re.. everything.”

There’s something about the way she says it that drives me crazy. I somehow understand everything she’s trying to say and I pull my fingers out of her.

I need her.

“Fuck,” I whisper, pushing her underwear to the side. I move up her body, but Sam starts to groan beside us. I whine quietly and drop my forehead on her shoulder, releasing her underwear.

I feel her deflate underneath me, too. She apologetically plays with my hair and kisses the top of my head. I melt into her, trying to steady my heart, cool down my body, and make my dick soft at the same time.

“Have you ever had a dream where you hide something and you wake up thinking: ‘what if it’s actually there?’ And you know it’s dumb but you just have a feeling it’s not, and then you’re disappointed because it’s not there when you look?” Her attempt to distract me works. I lift my head and I furrow my brows at her very specific question, but she’s looking at me earnestly so I resist the urge to laugh.

“I don’t think so, no,” I answered her question thoughtfully. After a few moments, as I continue to think about her question, I move off her and lean on my elbow while gazing down at her. “Why? Is there somethin’ you’re tryna tell me in a cryptic way?” I smirk and she pouts.

“I don’t do that,” she replies with uncertainty. I can tell she’s going over any possible situation where she’s been cryptic without even noticing.

“Uh, you do it sometimes,” I say with a laugh. She frowns and then ignores me. It makes me want to kiss her.

“Well, I’m trying to tell you my dream,” she explains. I’m about to tell her to continue, but Sam’s tossing and turning stops, and he speaks to us sleepily.

“You guys already awake?” Sam yawns, I look over my shoulder and I watch him stretch.

“Yeah,” I answer, then I lay back down on my back.

“Unfortunately,” she answers with a sigh.

She starts to get out of bed and I frown. I move over closer and wrap my arm around her waist, pressing kissing along her back. She chuckles and doesn't move away from when she bends down. I can hear her rifling through her duffle bag and I let her go when I feel her stop. I take her spot, lay on my stomach and bury my face in her pillow to inhale the smell of honey and jasmine from her shampoo.

I hear her jump slightly and I slide my arms under the pillow, lifting my head to watch her pull her jeans up. I smile dreamily as I watch her slide them over her ass. When she bends over, I’m a hundred percent sure she’s putting on a show for me. She rolls the bottom of her jeans upwards into a cuff so they don’t drag across the floor.

“Need to use the bathroom, Sam?” She asks him innocently, but she’s looking at me with mischief in her eyes. I smile and hide my face in the pillow so I don’t laugh or moan.

“I’ll use it after you, go ahead,” he tells her, ever the gentleman. She says a little ‘mmkay’ and I can hear her step closer to me. I peek at her and watch her lift the sheets over my body. She kisses the nape of my neck before she leaves and I resist the urge to act like a girl when she does it.

“Was she having a nightmare again?” Sam asks, his voice is laced with concern. I turn to look at him, the sun starts to light up the room, and I watch as he puts his shoes on. “That one with the axe killer was terrifying. She couldn’t sleep for days after it,” Sam reminisces with a grimace on his face.

“She didn’t have a nightmare,” I reassure Sam. I feel relief, the same as the sigh Sam releases when I respond, and I sit up.

Sam opens his laptop and his brows furrow as he stares at the screen. But his question takes me back to that night. I think about it like it just happened. I didn’t know what to do, neither did Sam, at first, because as soon as I’d touched her thrashing body, she’d fallen off the bed. She had a bruise on her cheekbone afterwards to show for it.

She never woke up when it happened, not until I picked her up off the floor. But even when she opened her eyes and saw me, the monster pulled her back into her dream and continued to chase her.

I remember Sam trying to help me as she tried to wiggle out of my grip, her dream bleeding into reality. She was strong for such a small woman and she slipped repeatedly from my grip and into Sam’s. We held her down on the bed instead and waited for her to wake up on her own.

I’d never been so afraid for her before. I’d never had my heart broken by her like that night when she immediately broke down crying upon waking up fully, holding onto me tighter than she’d ever held me before.

I cleaned the cuts on her legs and her back, I tended to the rope burn on her wrists. She was covered in bruises. I was grateful that she didn’t have anything broken or a deadly wound. But her mind was broken. It is broken. She was depressed for a few days after it had happened. I couldn’t help her in any way, but I was there for her the entire time.

It happens sometimes, more back then than it does now. She’d dream about something and it would break her. She falls apart and I help build her up—like she’s done for me a million times before. The dreams, nightmares, take a toll on her because she can’t do much in terms of helping out.

I feel like she’s a little more numb to it now. Like the depression got old. Like it’s just the same old emotions that have tried to drown her before. I’ve seen it with admiration and a bit of humour. The spite she feels when they come up after years of feeling controlled by it. I’ve seen her at her lowest and I’ve seen how resilient she can be—even on her own.

She tells me now when she doesn’t feel right, but she sounds more irritated by it than actually brought down. Sometimes she repeats or mocks whatever dark thought crosses her mind out loud and it’s half-funny. I still reassure her that it’s not true, just in case she’s pretending to be strong, just in case they’re sounding too true to be a lie.

If it’s really bad, I can tell because she goes mute. I let her cry once she opens up to me. I hold her and I let her feel it until it passes. There’s no point in trying to be positive sometimes or pushing down her feelings when they’re there for a reason. She lets it out and then she feels embarrassed because she wonders how she could think it was true. It’s a cycle, one I’m used to feeling myself just as much as she is.

It’s harder for me than it is for her to open up. I’m not used to it. God knows I want to tell her, but the words turn to a knot in my throat and my tongue gets heavy as they rest there. I’m afraid I’ll burden her, even when I try to reason with myself that I’ve never felt like she was a burden for having feelings, it doesn’t help. Because she’s herself and I am me. Still, I think she’s learned to understand me, even in silence.

I love her.

She steps out of the bathroom with a cute flowery top and a green cardigan after about six minutes and I smile at her. She gleefully twirls her way to me with a playful, “hey, Sammy. Morning, handsome,” and quickly kicks off the slippers she’s wearing to jump on the bed. Sam laughs quietly and goes into the bathroom now that she’s done.

I immediately bring her in for a kiss. My fingers tangle in her hair and I moan when her tongue prods at my lips. I can taste her minty breath when her soft tongue slides into my mouth. My hands fall to her waist; hers rise to my face. She kisses me passionately, her fingers thread through my hair and she holds me in place. She starts sucking my tongue into her mouth and I don’t even know what to call the sound that came out of me. I grab onto her tightly, my head feels fuzzy, my body is warm and tingly everywhere as she devours me. When her tongue runs along my top teeth, I have to resist the urge to bite her tongue but she begins to trace the roof of my mouth and pushes my mouth closer to hers with her hand on my jaw.

When she pulls away, she’s breathless. Like me. A string of saliva breaks between our mouths when she gets off me and I wish we could linger on it, but I’m too dazed to bring her back. I know my hair is messy and I lick my mouth to taste her again. My eyes are fixed to her movements, I know I look dumb as I continue to stare at her while she digs through her duffle bag.

Her hips sway when she walks across the room and she bends over the table slightly to open the curtain. She has a small pink bag, and takes out a green hand mirror to use as she gets ready. I inhale and try to compose myself while she fixes her eyebrows.

“Can we talk about your dream so I’m not horny all day?” I asked, getting out of bed to get ready, too. She laughs and wiggles her brows experimentally. She seems satisfied and then takes out a lash curler.

“Okay, yeah,” she agrees with a smile, but quickly glares at the lash curler. She inhales sharply before nervously bringing the metal thing to her eye. I can tell she’s freaking out with its proximity, and I grin when she has to take a deep breath after pulling it away before trying again.

I take my jeans out of my own duffle bag and start to put them on while we talk, and I ask, “so you dreamed you hid something and you think it’s real this time?” She curls her lashes at last, three times for a few seconds and then she moves on to the other eye. She bats her lashes at the mirror and then she stares down at her bag thoughtfully.

“Yeah, it’s in your duffle bag, but I didn’t put it there. I watched someone else do it and they told me to find it when I wake up,” she explains with a frown, then she frowns harder. I stare at the bag and open it up but I don’t see anything strange. “I’m gonna be mad, too, because I’ve hidden awesome stuff that I want to have—when I dream sometimes, and I’ve never found them.” I chuckle quietly and shake my head, but I start rifling through it to find whatever she could be talking about.

“Why is it important that you find it?” I ask curiously and dump everything inside onto the bed. She takes out a pink bottle and gets the wand out to place a few wet dots of pink on her lips. She presses them together to evenly spread the colour and then puts two smaller dots on her cheekbones.

“I don’t know yet,” she trails off and closes the tint. She then evenly rubs the hue over her cheeks. “He told me that once I get it, he can tell me,” she puts the small pink bag away in the duffle bag again and gets on the bed on her knees to look for it with me.

She carefully grabs my shirts, unfolds them and folds them perfectly again before putting them inside my duffle. She does it over and over with my help, until I grab a flannel and out falls a white rock shaped like a tiny white planet.

“Aha!” She exclaims, just as Sam steps out of the bathroom, confused.

“What’s that?” Sam asks, walking over to us to analyse what she grabs excitedly from the bed.

“It’s a rock,” she grins happily. She must forget that Sam doesn’t know what’s so important about it or why I have it in my stuff, so I explain it all to him as I finish folding the rest of my clothes.

“Is that like an infinity stone or something?” I ask when Sam starts inspecting the white rock. She breaks, a soft laugh lights up her previously serious face, and she’s looking at me with the brightest eyes. Sam, on the other hand, ignores me.

“I can do some research when we get to the bunker,” Sam offers, handing her the rock, but she shakes her head.

“I don’t think that’s necessary. Dream-Dean told me to take it to Rowena and I have to tell her that she has to use it on me,” she explains to us. I narrow my eyes at her when she says that to Sam. She was completely vague about the person she dreamt of at first, but now she’s saying I gave it to her in a dream? Or at least some other version of me did.

“And what, you trust this… uh,” I laugh bitterly, jealousy makes my face hot. “Dream-Dean? Seriously? He could be using my body to manipulate you.” She opens her mouth and then she closes it. She’s watching me. I know she’s trying to find a way to explain without sounding like I’m right.

“He was in my dreams,” she explained slowly, “and he didn’t look like you do now. He was more of a uh, hot, aged up version of you.” That did not make me feel any better, but I couldn’t deny that it was funny and flattering. I don’t feel as hot anymore, not since I’ve aged, but knowing she thinks otherwise makes me flush.

“Hot? Am I not fucking hot right now?” I ask playfully, staring straight at her. She gets flustered and she starts to stutter as she begins to deny what I’m saying.

“No.. you are hot- Shut up,” she grumbles. Her face is red and I smirk at her.

“Guys, please,” Sam interrupted, “let’s focus.”

“Yeah, stop flirting, babe, we need to focus,” I shake my head with a fake frown. I turn to Sam and resist a smile, even though he lets out an irritated sigh at the two of us. I can feel her behind me, I feel a tingle of thrill run up my spine, but steady my voice when I ask, “how does something from your dream appear in our world?”

Sam must think it’s a good question because he turns to look at her with a curious face. I feel her hand land at the small of my back, I can feel her warmth spread over my body, and then it moves away, leaving me cold, but I don’t expect the way she swats my ass.

“Uh… quantum physics?” She says, unsure. That distracts Sam from the way I jump, he acknowledges it, but ignores me to focus on her words. My ass stings a little, but honestly, even I’m intrigued by her words. “Pfft, I don’t know, I don’t remember anything from my physics degrees,” she snorted sarcastically.

“My general knowledge of that is the Ant-Man stuff,” I tell her with a serious face. She smiles affectionately, amusement glitters in her eyes, and she forces herself to look away when Sam comes up with a plan.

“I can get another hunter to take over the case,” Sam suggests, “Rowena’s a call away, we can head back to the Bunker while she meets us there.”

“Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

“Is there anything special about this rock?” Sam askes Rowena, looking across the table as the redheaded witch uses her finger to read a few lines from the giant book. She picks up the rock, then tilts her head and her curls follow the movement.

“Well, it’s just Scolecite,” Rowena started, “but I can feel something very powerful inside.” Rowena takes the stone and brushes her thumb over the orb, then she carefully gazes past me. “Where did you say you got this from?”

I look behind me, and she has the cutest, wide-eyed look on her face when she looks up from the sandwich she’s eating. I bite my lip and smile at her, then I turn back to Rowena. “A… uh… alternative universe version of me gave it to her. Why?”

“It feels different,” Rowena pauses to think. “Everything in our world has a certain.. signature. This feels like it doesn’t belong to our world. It makes more sense to me now that I know it’s from another universe.” I nod slowly, trying to make something of that information. I wipe a hand down my mouth and I lean back, giving my attention to my favourite person in the whole world.

She passes the rest of her sandwich to me quietly and I eat it. It somehow tastes better than the one I made for myself, and I made both of them. She gazes at me as I eat, but she asks Rowena, “you can use it on me, though, yeah? It won’t be a problem?” We look away at the same time, Rowena looks amused and then she recollects herself.

“I can,” she confirms, then cautiously asks, “are you sure you want that?” It makes me worried suddenly. Was I really gonna let my girlfriend use some magical, dimensional rock we know nothing about just because some older version of me told her to?

“Should we not?” I ask earnestly.

“I’ve never done anything like… this,” Rowena admits, pushing the book slightly towards me, “it’s possible everything will go right, but it will be extremely painful. This rock is a vessel. It’s holding something massive and powerful inside, and I’ll be putting that inside her.” It makes me more nervous when she explains it like that. Is that why she didn’t want us to do research before, because she knew there were risks? I abandon the sandwich as it begins to make me feel sick, but I’m interrupted from asking more questions.

“Dean, it’s fine. All of you, please,” she said exasperatedly. “I’m going to do this and I’m not changing my mind. I’m sure and I can handle anything that happens, okay? And if I can’t, we can stop, but I’m trying again.” She was looking straight at me, but my eyes were glued to the sandwich that was making my stomach upset.

“I don’t get why you suddenly trust the guy,” I say quietly.

“It’s you, Dean, if I’m going to trust anyone, of course, it’s going to be you,” she replied steadfastly.

“Okay, but it’s not me.” I look at her and plead that she doesn’t go through with it.

“I know that you’re afraid, Dean, and you’re usually right about stuff like that, but I’m sure of this, okay?” She puts her hand behind my neck reassuringly. Her hand is cold and it makes me shiver, I shake my head.

“You’ve made up your mind, darlin’, that’s fine with me,” Rowena told her. I get up and I stare at everyone at the table in disbelief, but the only ones who look at me are Rowena who I know is curious about what will happen and my girlfriend who’s stubbornly made up her mind, but Sam doesn’t look at me, and I know he agrees with them.

“Seriously? We’re gonna do this knowing jack shit about this goddamn rock and what it’s gonna do to you when you use it?” I scoff and Rowena opens her mouth to explain something I won’t understand, but I turn away from them because, unlike them, I won’t be convinced otherwise.

I get to my room, but I don’t even know what to do with myself now that I’m doing nothing. I pace for a while and then I stand there. I look at the stuff that I keep in my room, the stuff I use to make these concrete walls feel like home. I don’t hear anyone behind me, I know they’re waiting for me to cool down before they come find me. I assume they’re preparing everything for the spell in the meantime.

I go to the box that sits on the floor at the foot of my bed and I kneel down to open it. Only I know what sits way at the bottom. One of the perks of doing my own shit without being told, is that I get to hide stuff because my girlfriend doesn’t need to clean my stuff when I’ve already done it.

I pull out an unsuspecting, small wooden box from the bottom. When I open it, three rings glitter in the light of my room, it makes me nervous. I feel butterflies in my chest as the white gold glares at me, the diamonds on the one in the middle sparkle almost magically. I can’t let her jeopardise everything, but I can’t bear how it’ll change us if I stop her. It’s one thing to date her, but marriage is a whole other story. It’s eternity, at least to me, and I don’t think anyone would want that from me.

I’m fucked up in ways I can’t change, in ways I can’t ever say. Unless it’s some random person I’ll never see again, some person I don’t go home to. I know I’ve hurt her by doing that. I itch for hunts if I go two weeks without one, but I complain about wanting a normal life. I have a drinking problem I don’t address. I get angry at the ones I love, sometimes it’s blown out of proportion on my part. I make stupid decisions for the people I love, end up destroying the world more than once, or I willingly give myself as a sacrifice. Sometimes it’s not even out of courage, sometimes it’s the microscopic size of my ego, the nonexistent love I have for myself, or the fact that I want to give up.

I hide my pain behind jokes and laughs. I’d rather leave and sabotage something good rather than risk being hurt. I’m trapped in a cycle I can’t break out of, not the way the love of my life has. I’m stuck in ways I was treated by my father, my enemies. I believe every hurtful word and I can’t see myself the way her and Sam do.

I like questionable shit. She thinks it’s cute, sometimes she thinks it’s hot, but I’m not fucking normal. I do questionable shit. Not just the hunting and the killing. I have blood on my hands, seeped deep into my soul and into my mind. I have nightmares and flashbacks that don’t go away.

I’ve whored myself out for money, for food, for Sam, because my dad asked me to on cases. I feel disgusted with myself sometimes. I wish I’d waited. Sex was great when it happened, I liked it, it took my mind off shit in my life, but afterward it’s horrible. When they left or I left, it was the grossest feeling. Even if I stay ‘till morning, it ain’t the same. As much as I’d like to say casual sex is healthy and normal. I can’t say that’s the case for me. It was worse when I started dating her. I felt unworthy, I don’t even think she cares about who I fucked in the past, but I do.

I know all these things are bad and I can’t fucking change it. I don’t know how to stop it, I don’t know where to even start with myself. I’m too fucked up, I think so, I can’t be fixed. I can’t possibly make her happy forever. I’ll fuck up along the road. She probably won’t forgive me. I never expect her to.

I hear a knock on my door and I close the box, casually putting it back inside before getting up. My knees creak and I feel old suddenly, tired, too. I turn around to face the woman I love most. She has the softest look in her eyes and her lips form the saddest smile.

I still wonder if she can see how ugly I am.

“I haven’t changed my mind,” I tell her, sitting down on the box. Her eyes flicker down to my shoes and she sighs, then steps forward.

“I never expected you to,” she murmurs. She wraps her arms around my neck and I bury my face in her stomach.

We stay that way for a while. She feels warm and comfortable, my hands rest on her hips and my thumbs brush beneath the cropped, white shirt she’s wearing. Her skin is soft and warm, I know she appreciates Cas’ healing, choosing to erase any damage from monsters we’ve encountered. She smells sweet and expensive, the scent of her perfume lingers on her clothes, it’s familiarity makes me warm inside.

I pull away to look up at her. She watches me curiously, her eyes drift over my face, and she looks content as she does it. I take her wrists shyly, I kiss her pulse like she’s done to me a billion times before, and I quietly admit: “I just can’t trust him, I’m afraid you’ll get hurt or something worse. I can’t do it. I can’t let you do it without knowing everything...”

“I know that,” she tells me. There's a hint of irritation in her voice that hurts me, but then she gets down onto her knees and takes my face in her hands. “I can’t control how you feel, Dean, I can only control how I feel, and I need to do this.” She explains it to me as gently as she can, and while I can understand where she’s coming from, I just don't care. I’d lock her in the dungeon if it meant she wouldn’t do it, but I know that’s extreme. I know she’d hate me for it, I’d hate to be controlled that way again, too. That’s the only thing that stops me. “Dean, please be with me when I do it,” she begs softly.

I want to cry and break something out of frustration. She’s stubborn as hell, just as much as I am. Instead, I grab her face and I kiss her roughly. She moans lowly, surprised by the suddenness of my affection, but she returns my kiss. I pour into her how much I hate this idea, how much I need her to listen to me, how much I love her.

When I pull away, she chases my mouth to continue the kiss, and I can’t deny her. She matches my possessiveness when I press my lips against hers again. I can tell what she's trying to say with the way she effortlessly slides her tongue into my mouth, tugs my hair, and draws a deep grunt from my chest. Her kiss is intoxicating and I suddenly regret teaching her everything she knows.

I pull away with so much effort and I pant against her wet lips. Her nose brushes against mine when she pulls back further to gaze at me. She returns with a smile and kisses the corner of my mouth. “If something happens-”

“It won’t,” she interrupts me. She kisses my jaw and I tilt my head in the direction that she pulls my hair.

“But if it does… I love you,” I confess, my voice raspy. Her lips freeze on my pulse and I feel my body go rigid. I know I’ve told her before and she’s reciprocated, but I still, always fear she won’t return the sentiment.

“If you only say that when you think we’re gonna die, I’d prefer that you never say it at all,” she said quietly, pulling away from me. I watch her sit down with an unreadable expression on her face and I wonder what she’s thinking as my heart sinks into the very hands that rest openly on her lap.

“Guys, everything’s ready,” Sam says softly from the door. We both look up at him and we nod without saying a word. He hesitates, watches us carefully, his clever eyes gather information, and then he walks away.

I help her up off the floor and the air around us is thick. There’s a distance between us and I wonder how fucked up we are that I don’t even know how we got to this point when just a few seconds ago, I had my mouth pressed aginst hers. I know that the problem goes deeper than just what’s happening now, but I don’t know how I’ve managed to miss the stuff that bothers her.

I feel a little hope spark in my chest when her hand brushes against mine, even though it hurts, I hope she doesn’t take it from me. Her slim fingers tickle my palm and I clasp her hand fully inside my own, walking with her slowly to where Sam and Rowena were waiting in the library.

Everything was shifted around the place, once we got there. The tables were pushed against the shelves so that there was a big open area now where Sam placed a plastic sheet over the wooden floor, to allow Rowena to paint marks over it for the spell. The air smelled spicy and flowery, tickling my eyes, the smoke made the library grey, and I felt sick again.

“Okay, I need you to lay down in the centre and hold the rock right here,” Rowena demonstrated to her once we stepped inside the library.

She did as Rowena asked. I felt more and more anxious as the minutes passed, but soon, Rowena was chanting some magic words in another language while Sam inspected what was happening like a good little apprentice. If anything went wrong I was ready to jump in and stop whatever the hell kind of spell they were working on. It would be reckless, but I can’t stand the thought of her getting hurt.

Nothing happens for a few minutes, but the rock starts to glow in the centre of her chest. It begins to crack, pure white light breaks through, and I look over to her face to check that she’s alright, but she looks more sleepy than in pain. I can tell she’s not really here by the empty look in her eyes she gets when she’s bored or deep in thought.

Despite the lack of discomfort in her face, I can’t seem to relax. I just know something will go wrong, it always does. I see Rowena move back slightly and I look over at the witch with concern before looking back at my girlfriend who’s surrounded by the right of pure white cloud that looks like a whole galaxy of bright dust with gold and opal.

It’s not until Rowena begins to aggressively chant her spell that I visibly start to freak out. It reminds me of possession, the way the cloud of smoke starts to rise to get inside her. The white rock bursts and sends pieces of itself flying across the room before it dives right into the centre of her chest where the rock had been before.

I can hear her start to cry and there’s suddenly pulses coming from her. She scrambles up suddenly and I walk towards her to help her get out, but Sam stops me with his hand wrapped tightly around my elbow. I freeze and watch helplessly as she hunches over while she sits on her legs, as if her stomach was hurting.

“Don’t fight it,” Rowena announced in between incantations, “control the way you feel.” I can hear her sobs and I yank my arm from Sam’s grip with a glare. When I get closer, Sam doesn’t stop me. She shouts and I can tell she lets go completely. Suddenly it’s like the polarity reverses, it just stops and it sits there before it begins to move inside of her faster, and it ends just as quickly.

It’s quiet now. I gaze down at her cautiously and I step forward as the glow in her chest dims and I can see that she’s crying. Tears are running down her face, but she looks up at me blankly.

“Are you okay? Did it hurt?” I ask her tenderly, kneeling down. I take her wrists and I can feel the erratic beat of her heart. I search her eyes and she’s smiling now, like that didn’t just happen.

“No, I’m fine,” she laughs softly. I break a smile, but I’m still worried, and I cup her warm face in my hands, wiping tears from her red cheeks.

“You’re crying,” I whisper, kissing her forehead. She pulls away and takes my hand to examine my wet thumbs. She looks at them with confusion and then wipes her wet eyes, seeing for herself that she’s definitely crying.

“Those aren’t my tears,” she tells me. Before I can say anything, I see the floor beneath us suddenly transform into hexagonal shapes, showing small places I’ve never seen before—like photographs.

“Dean!” I hear Sam shout, but then the woman in my arms yelps when it starts to fall apart underneath us and we fall through. There’s nothing around us when we're falling and we cling to each other. Suddenly, there’s another hexagonal thing in the middle of the dark abyss and we start to fall through it—inside a building instead. I’m certain we’re gonna die.

But as we get a few centimetres above ground, I tighten my grip around her small body and we stop. There’s no impact, no pain, no sound. I open my eyes and I see the marble floor as it grazes my nose and then we fall the last distance with no problem.

“See? Nothing bad happened, you are wrong sometimes, Dean.” I look up, away from the woman underneath me whose head is tilted up towards the familiar voice with a smile on her face. I see myself. Definitely an older version of me with stubble—almost a beard—and longer hair. He’s wearing a black turtleneck and a black coat. It looks fucking awesome, but I think this guy was flirting with my girl in her dreams, so I glare at him instead.

“Who are you? What is this place? And what did you do to my girlfriend?” The guy only laughs, he’s not looking at me, he’s looking down at her. She’s looking at him like she’s his biggest fan in the world, but under the silent stare it’s like there’s some inside joke I’m not a part of and I feel so irritated.

“I’m you, from a future that doesn’t exist anymore,” he starts, finally looking at me, “this place is.. well, mostly I watch the multiverse, I can see all the timelines, make sure no one’s in danger. The most important job is preventing God from doing what he did before.” I look around at the room we’re in. The walls are black—architecturally speaking, everything is geometric. The lights are dim and there are destroyed statues along the walls in the hallway. The floor is dark red, shiny, but only acts as a rug would. The ceiling is tall, almost endless, and I’m sure there is actually no ceiling at all. “As for what we did to her..'' he trails off and bites his lip. “Long story short, we gathered your variants before they were killed off by Chuck and we put their souls in the rock. When you absorbed it, it made you powerful, not a soul-bomb like Dean. I’m talking about your dreamwalking abilities,” he explains to her.

“We who?” I ask. He’s about to answer, but I’ve got a million questions running through my mind the longer he talks and the longer I’m here. “How many variants, or whatever, is that, then? Also, what do you mean she’s more powerful?” She reaches out for my wrist and I look down at her, but I can’t calm down, I can’t slow down. I have no idea where we are or why they want her here. “And what does Jack think about all this?”

The older me laughs and shakes his head at me. It pisses me off. He’s handsome, but I’ll punch him anyway.

“Come on, I’ve got a meeting soon,” he told us, then started walking down the seemingly endless hallway. The doors opened strangely, one door slid upwards, but behind it was another door that sunk down into the floor. When we stepped outside, everything was black, there was a faint white light in the distance and the body of what looked like a leviathan. Not the ones we know, but the things without a human meat suit.

“Is this the future or something?” I ask. It’s all terrifying. I look down and see there’s a whole other level, and it’s all connected like a maze or a labyrinth. The floor we walk on to the next pyramid-like building is an opaque crystal structure that I know is thick as hell, but I’m scared shitless anyway. There’s no wind blowing, not even a sound, but when the older version of me speaks, his voice bounces strangely around us.

“Uh… see that bright light? That’s the beginning of time, all of this here, is the end. We’re technically in between,” he clarifies.

“So… wait, she can time travel?” I ask, somewhat delighted at the thought.

“Yeah, dreams are the easiest way to time travel,” he chuckles, “I use Baby to time travel. It’s my personal, sexy TARDIS. Thanks to Jack, but he regrets that now.” He laughs heartily at that and I’m not gonna lie, I’m pretty jealous of the fact that he’s upgraded to a time travelling Impala. “Anyway… uh, there were only twenty six other variants of you,” he tells her. The small number shocks me, but I don’t dwell on it for long because she doesn’t seem phased. I’ll have to talk about that with her later. “And that portal you fell through? That’s what your abilities do now. When Jack would use your abilities, you could see them like picture frames in your mind, but now you can access them at any point, whenever you want.”

I look above and I can see there’s still more monuments above us somehow floating in the air, or maybe they’re being held by another structure, but I’m not sure. If we weren’t outside, risking our lives and falling off the walkway, I’d be amazed by this place. Whatever it is.

“As for what Jack thinks of this place,” he laughs heartily and looks at us. I can see sadness in his eyes, he can’t hide his emotions from me, but I don’t think he cares about that because he doesn’t look away. “I think I annoy him so much he doesn’t even care what I do anymore, besides he can’t destroy this place. It’s God-proofed. As for you, he won’t hurt you, I promise.”

“I don’t understand why you want me to be powerful,” she wonders out loud to him after a while. We’re standing by another door, this one opens like elevator doors, and the room is brighter. There’s gold, sparkling gems, and giant jewels scattered on the floor.

“I just wanted to find a way to keep you safe indefinitely,” he told her with a shrug. I pause for a moment, maybe he’s not as bad as I made him out to be. This whole time I was busy thinking he was endangering her, but he might actually be trying to keep her safe. I still think there’s something romantic going on, considering that it’s me, considering that he’d go through all that trouble to keep her safe. I wouldn’t do all that for just anyone. “I’m always checking on you, making sure you’re safe. I honestly spend so much of my time focusing on you instead of the whole multiverse,” he admitted bashfully. “I don’t think that’s a problem, but.. I think I’m in love with you enough, and you’ve already got your Dean. Also… I have people depending on me to focus on the job, which is way better than hunting, honestly,” he laughed nervously.

I narrowed my eyes at him for admitting that. He doesn’t seem phased because I look over and she’s blushing, trying to act normal. She’s never had a reaction like this to any other man who’s hit on her, but now that it’s someone who has my face, she’s acting the way she acts with me when I do it. I know she can’t control it, it’s me after all, but it makes my chest burn with jealousy.

“Listen, dude, I get that you’re all fucking awesome with your costumes and running this place, but stop hitting on her, okay?” I ask sarcastically with a tight smile.

“Dean,” she scolds me. She grabs my sleeve, tugs lightly, and she looks so fucking adorable right now, it’s making it hard for me to stand my ground.

“No, okay,” I groan exasperatedly, tugging away from her. “What the fuck, guys? I mean… seriously. Nothing in our lives is normal, but this shit is literally- I don’t even know what to make of any of this! It’s fucked up, you’re in love with her and you’ve never met her? What the hell?” I tug at my hair and then I slide my hands tiredly down my face.

She blinks up at me like I just told her the most insane conspiracy theory and I sigh. Her face softens and she hugs me instead of saying something. She nuzzles her face into my chest and I hear her breathe me in. Her arms are tight around my waist and I finally return her embrace, I kiss the top of her head, and my entire body releases the tension I’ve been keeping inside me since we started talking to Rowena.

“I get it. It’s me and you don’t even trust yourself,” the other Dean begins, “but when we sleep, we dream about each other's lives. We dream of her.” She pulls away from me and I force myself to look away to consider his words. “All of us. In every universe, every version of you. We see how close to happily ever after you are with the kindest, loving, most caring woman to exist in the entire multiverse. We want what you have, as fucked up as everything else in your life is, you’ve got this one good thing. And you do so much to fuck it up. You don’t have to trust us, but trust that she’ll stay with you.”

I think quietly to myself. As much as it irritates me, I should put myself in her shoes, too. She has to deal with hundreds of girls flirting and throwing themselves shamelessly at me and she never makes a big deal out of it. It’s because she trusts me that she doesn’t give a shit what they say or do. She jokes with me when they give me their numbers, claiming she’ll give them a call when she needs someone to babysit me. If they flirt, she’ll teasingly repeat it and bother me about it for the rest of the day. Whatever it is, she laughs and makes the best of something people would feel generally insecure about. That’s because at the end of the day, she’s the one I’m sleeping next to, she’s the one I’m waking up to, she’s the one who spends every second of every day at my side.

Nobody can compete with that.

The sound of doors opening thankfully breaks the silence. I don’t have to admit he’s right, but I look down at her in my arms, and her eyes tell me she knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“Sir, I’ve been look-” another voice that sounds like mine breaks us apart and I’m only half-surprised to see myself wearing that stupid Ken Doll suit Zachariah dressed me in for kicks to prove a stupid fucking point. “Oh…” Like the older version of me, he gawks at the woman who’s standing in front of me.

“Dean, this is.. well, this is ridiculous actually, I don’t gotta introduce us,” older Dean chuckles. The younger looking version of me has a cart with cardboard boxes and he continues to bring them towards us. “Also, don’t call me sir, we’ve talked about this,” he adds good-naturedly with a smile and a shake of his head.

“Uh, sorry. Hi,” Ken-Doll steps closer to her and, of course, my woman is on cloud nine. “Wow, you’re way more beautiful than I dreamed,” he breathes out. I puff my cheeks trying to hold back saying something snarky in response. But all self-control nearly leaves my body when she fucking giggles shyly and rubs the back of her neck.

“Okay!” Older Dean did something before I did, and the spell between Ken and my lover broke. “Did you get the files for Lush?” He asks Ken-Dean, giving me the side-eye, as if to tell me to cool down. I swear every version of me has gotten on my nerves without me having to meet any of them.

“Yeah… uh, yes, we’ve got her background, which universes she actually exists in, her status, what’s she’s currently doing, what she can do… y’know, the basics,” Ken informs him. Older me takes off the top of one of the boxes, sifts through files, and nods his head proudly.

“Great, so the team you’re leading? It’s all good?”

“Yes, we’ll be focusing on this case for the time being, keeping an eye on her,” he discloses, “we all agree she could be a danger to the timeline.” Both me and her are completely absorbed in the conversation they’re having. I’m curious about whatever the fuck they’re doing and why all those words sound so badass in a sentence together.

“We’ll talk about that later.”

“Right, the meeting, let’s walk together?”

Older Dean gave me a tight smile and I followed them both with my quiet girlfriend by my side. I should relax, there’s no harm in being in love with someone so long as they don’t make a move and I have nothing to be afraid of when it comes to her. She’s still standing next to me, her hand finds my wrist and I tug her into my side. She stumbles and laughs softly, letting me put my arm around her shoulders while she wraps her arm around my waist.

In just a few minutes, we walk by a whole bunch of me’s wearing soldier-like uniforms, they’ve all got numbers across their backs, a logo of a shooting star with the words ‘THE MONUMENT’ on their chest. Despite having been serious, they cracked upon seeing her, too. Their faces carried little smiles after passing her and her cheeks were red from all the attention she was getting.

“So, do we get chosen by Jack or how does this whole thing work?” I ask, trying to get her attention away from the hot soldiers. At least I know she’s attracted to me in every shape and style.

“Jack has no power here,” the older me reassured us again. “Typically, after the variants lose everything or once they die, they’re given the option to come here… we’re never surprised that they prefer to be here, surrounded by the rest of us, getting a chance to be closer to you.”

“Can’t be easy facing each other, knowing how you are,” she says astutely. I was thinking the same exact thing.

“Yeah, well… you changed all of that for us,” this time Ken spoke up. She looks up at them attentively and a little smile tugs at her lips.

There’s another me leaning against the wall by the door we’re about to go into. He’s smoking a cigarette and he’s covered in tattoos. I can see them peek out of the neck of his t-shirt, both arms are covered in sleeves of art, and he smirks as soon as he sees her. I roll my eyes, I know what to expect from every version of me that I see. Especially if they feel some sort of gratitude towards her for undoing all the horrible things they were put through against their will.

“Fuck, baby, look at you,” he praised. He even has the audacity to take her chin between his fingers and angle her face in his direction. She averted her gaze shyly, but I can tell she melts into him, especially when he brushes his thumb gently across her lip. He bites his own and I think about how lucky they are that she loves them because they’re alternative me’s. “At least one of us got lucky.” He let her go gently and took another drag of his cigarette before getting out of the way to get inside the room with us.

“Which Dean is that?” She asks quietly, but I can sense a bit of excitement in her tone. I squeeze her against my side as a warning, but she snorts at me.

“The original Dean Chuck had in mind,” older me replied, holding the door open for a few other ‘variants’ of myself to enter after us.

“Hot,” she hummed flagrantly.

“Sweetheart,” I beg quietly. It makes both the older and younger me laugh.

“Dean, it’s the truth, but I’m messing with you,” she laughs, too.

“You’re unbelievable.” Still, I can’t stop the smile on my face.

“You’d do the same if you were in a room filled with a bunch of other variants of me,” she reasoned, dragging me over to where there were empty seats. It wasn’t next to the older me, or Ken me, or tatted me. Next to her was a variant of me with a beard, a plaid neckerchief like a cowboy, wearing a tactical vest. Next to me was an alternate version of me wearing a black t-shirt with a firefighters’ logo.

Now that I’m sitting here looking at every variant of me around the hexagonal table, I start to realise this is literally a room filled with her sex fantasies of me. I can recall having worn most of these costumes when we have roleplayed for sex. She would dress up in something sexy for me, too, it was our thing.

I leaned towards her as the older-me started talking about that Lush chick Ken-me had been talking about. She leans into me to listen closely to what I have to say. “D’ya think they’ve seen us have sex?” I whisper discreetly. I notice the way her eyes widen and pink starts to glow over her cheeks. “Maybe… think they’ve had a little love session with their hand thinking of you? I don’t doubt it..” I whisper crudely. She shifts in her seat and I feel so smug now, I grab her rolling chair and I pull her closer.

“I bet they’re always thinking of you. Even after bangin’ some random chick, they wish it was you in their bed. They’re probably single on purpose, miserable with anyone that isn’t you. I would be. I’d never be able to settle down with anyone as long as I dream of you. I’d be happier alone than with some girl I like halfway, knowing my whole heart and soul belongs to you and you alone. Ever across the entire multiverse. I’d choose you.” I press my lips to her warm cheek, then I let my mouth move over hers to kiss her properly. She tilts her head in my direction and accepts my tongue into her mouth when I tease the seam of her lips.

“Dean,” I hear older-me’s voice. I pull away from her mouth and I lick my lips, staring down at her as she tries to recompose herself. Everyone is staring at us and I know they’re definitely me because they don’t even look away when I catch them.

“I’m not sorry about that,” I say smugly, “you all wanna do it anyway.” I feel her hand squeeze my thigh and I stay quiet, but so does the rest of the room. After a few minutes of silence, older-me starts to talk again about a plan of action in case Lush gets out of hand. I lean forward again and I ask her one last thing, “you want them to fuck you, don’t you?”

She blushes harder somehow and she takes the cold glass of water in front of her to cool down. I don’t need her to answer verbally, her body language is enough to tell me just what she’s thinking. My brain starts to imagine ways I could fulfil her fantasy when the bearded-me talks to her and asks, “did the boss tell ya what he did, then?”

He appears more thoughtful about the question he asks than like he wants to gossip. The question piques my interest and I lean towards him. He’s watching us closely, there’s no jealousy or envy, his presence is just full of love and respect like every other me has exuded since we’ve crossed paths. “‘S nothin’ we all wouldn’t do,” he defends, almost as if he thinks I’m trying to get proof that this place is too good to be true. Like a true me, he suspects I’m waiting for the shoe to drop.

“What did he do?” I asked, hoping I didn't sound urgent. The three of us lean in as subtly as we could to hear each other.

“He disintegrated his whole timeline by saving you.”

➥ the love letter collection : part two

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