#still paddling this damn canoe

[owl-by-night]

To Catch a Thief - Chapter Six

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53865664/chapters/139993423

A nightmare, a truce and Father Brown returns from London

[iii-days-grace]

sometimes im just like. what if i went and got my benthic invertebrate monitoring certification for fun. what if i got my wetland botanical classification schema. what if we all ran away into the woods and looked at bugs forever

im not a biologist anymore but that just sounds like a fun thing to do, and i don't even have to recert it, i can just steal that knowledge and keep it in my brain! cant stop me now!

[venileix]

𝜗𝜚 .River's Edge

PAIRING: Scott Barringer x F!reader SYNOPSIS: Tension is heavy between you and Scott and the others thought of a bonding exercise to help you make up. WARNINGS: first post!, established relationship, jealous Scott, slight angst?

⋆𝜗𝜚˚｡⋆

You simply could not understand why Scott was so mad. Raking your mind of the past few days, you were almost positive you hadn't done a thing.

It didn't take long for the others to catch on to Scott's behavior, especially towards you and anybody who tried to talk to you. So the group decided to orchestrate the perfect little getaway for the two of you.

It was a difficult task to find a way for the staff to fall blind to two students disappearing for a few hours, but the plan was almost perfect.

The next morning, the plan was put into action. The Saturday sun beamed down on you as you hiked the trail through the woods, Juliette just ahead of you, leading you to a spot she was telling you about at breakfast.

You were suspicious of her as you follow, there was no chance Juliette had a spot in the woods that she found.

The sounds of calmly flowing water got louder as you walked, the nearing river drowning out Juliette's ranting.

"Where exactly are you taking me?" Out of the years you had been at Mount Horizon you weren't very close to the girl in front of you, so the confusion hadn't left you since you both split from the cabin that morning.

"You're so impatient," Juliette rolled her eyes, "We're practically there." You didn't get the chance to respond as you freeze at the sight in front of you.

Scott and Auggie stood on the river's edge, and the confusion grows further through your chest as Auggie shoves Scott further towards the canoe resting on shore.

"Juliette, what exactly is going on?" Your voice was low, but the sound of your footsteps must of alerted the boys a couple ways down the small hill as they both snap their heads in your direction.

"Just give it a chance," The girl drags you towards the pair on the shore, "Please."

You roll your eyes, letting her lead you towards the last person you wanted to see right now.

"Nice of you to finally join us," Auggie smirked, watching the way your eyes narrowed at the three people around you.

"Can somebody just tell me what's going on?" Your chest tightened as you noticed Scott's annoyed glare on you and Auggie.

"Well," Juliette grins next to you, her shoulders straightening, "The group thought it would be good to let the two of you have some time together."

Scott scoffs, "We spend time together."

Auggie shakes his head, bringing his hand up to the boy's shoulder, "Well, now you get to spend more together. Now get in the damn canoe."

Juliette was quick to also push you in the same direction.

Soon you found yourself in the middle of the calm river across from your boyfriend, void of any paddles to be able to get yourself back to shore. Auggie said it was to make sure we actually spent the time together, or whatever.

It was silent for a while, you were stuck in your thoughts. Why hadn't Scott been talking to you lately? It did actually feel like forever since you hung out. Maybe you did something wrong? Did you overstep on any boundaries?

"What are you thinking about so hard?" Scott's voice startled you, your eyes jumping up to meet his as he sat across from you in the narrow canoe.

"Did I do something to upset you?" Your voice was quiet, and you felt small under his stormy blue eyes.

It looked as if he was struggling to form the right words as the corner of his lips tugged down.

"Do you like Auggie?" The question took you completely off guard as your eyes widen in surprise, a confused laugh ghosting over your lips.

"Auggie? God no, he's so in love with Juliette, it's honestly comical at this point!" Despite your attempt at lightening the mood, Scott still seemed ticked off.

"Really? He seemed to be real into you the other day at the bonfire," He turned his gaze away from you, refusing to meet your eyes again.

"Scott," you try to meet his eyes, sighing as he doesn't make any movement, "I was helping him with ideas for asking Juliette out."

You watched as his hands tightened into a small fist, "You were practically on top of him!"

You scoffed, crossing your arms, "Juliette was a couple feet away from us, he didn't want her to hear us!"

He didn't say anything, just flexing his hand in annoyance, still refusing to look at you. "Scott."

It all made so much sense now, Scott was jealous.

His blue eyes slowly turn towards yours again, a frustrated glare making them appear darker than usual.

"I love you. You are the only person I want to be able to know me the way you do. The only person I want to see me how you do."

That was the first time either of you had said those words to the other.

In the flash of an eye Scott closes the distance between you, catching your lips in a love filled kiss.

"I love you." He grinned into the kiss, and you would never complain about his switch up in moods in this moment.

You push him away gently, smiling sweetly as you stare into him, feeling the relief flowing through his veins.

You lean back but the sudden movements rock the canoe and in the blink of an eye you find yourself submerged into chilled water.

Hands find your waist, and as you open your eyes, the dark water is brightened by beams of light around you. The blue eyes in front of you are like a saving grace as they peer into yours.

Breathing feels like a distant thought as his eyes search your own, and with a wide, closed-lipped smile you tug his face towards you, this time it's you bringing him in for a kiss.

He responds immediately, wrapping his arms further around your waist, the cold water long forgotten as your lips move in sync.

Letting this moment sink in for as long as possible, the internal fight for air wins as you drag your bodies up, breaking the surface and separating for breaths.

The two of you swim to shore, tugging the canoe in tow.

Logically, you knew you probably didn't have a lot of time left, knowing the group can keep the staff distracted from your disappearance for only so long.

But you ignored that, instead choosing to sit in comfortable silence with your head on Scott's shoulder as you sat on some rocks on the river's edge.

With the affection from your boyfriend back, you both complied ideas to pitch to Auggie about how to win over Juliette.

[georgianaortiz]

OPEN | @lunarcovestarters

A. Capture the Flag [ The Cove's Jail ]

The retreat events weren't the kind of games Gia liked to play. Still, the vampire participated on behalf of the clan. Her loyalty to her people unassailable but questionable with everyone else. "Well I study prehistoric archeology, mostly, but a colleague of mine is a maritime archaeologist. Brilliant in his field." The brunette commended. "But bless his heart, he's a mess of a man. Steps out on his wife who gave him five children. He can't keep an assistant, either, and no one has to guess why." Head still shaking in disapproval, Gia continued on. "So this colleague, he told me that the bottom of the ocean is called the abyssal plain and isn't made of sand but sediment from everything that's ever lived in the sea. How interesting!" The exclamation was followed by an abrupt change in her tone as the eyes in the back of her head, from motherhood, told her someone was trying to escape. "Sit back down."

B. Canoeing [ During the Vampire's bracket ]

Wearing a long, flowing skirt, and kitten heels with a parasail and picnic basket in hand, Gia declined her canoe's paddle and settled into her little boat. The only thing she knew about boats was how to float down river. Which was a favorite past time of hers, growing up, as a young girl in Savannah. The middle child of a dozen and one siblings, they all loaded into oak boats with picnic lunches to bask in the southern, summertime sun. Today filled Gia with nostalgia and champagne, which she packed in lieue of her childhood's picnic lunch. She popped the bottle the second she set sail, bubbling with delight as the liquid poured over the top. "What a lovely day this will be!"

C. Bonfire [ Opening Night ]

They were all just stories at the end. Stories and bones; two of Gia's great loves. Scary stories her favorite kind, ever since childhood when she'd sneak out of bed, wander down the hall, and eavesdrop on her older siblings attempts to spook one another. In a sort of poetic irony that Georgiana amusedly appreciated, she was a ghost story. "They say I haunt the house where I died in Savannah. The story seems to change every few decades. I tripped down the stairs, my husband's misstress pushed me, an evil spirit from beyond did the deed.." A laugh, half-hearted in sound, proceeded the recount. "All are false, of course. They do have my portrait up, though the artist's rendition is hardly as damning as a photograph." Her tongue clicked in audible annoyance, as she grumbled something about stupid cell phones.

D. Werewolf BBQ

Why the clan was invited to a werewolf BBQ was beyond Gia's knowing. Once more, she joined in on the festivities like a good sport and brought baked goods for the food table. One look at the cuisine and she knew she wouldn't be eating anything she hadn't brought herself. Georgiana had a particular palette for human food these days, and it did not include anything that could be prepared on a BBQ. She resigned herself to drinking and people watching, making observations in her mind until someone was in ear shot to hear her commentary. "That guy.." The vampire gestured at someone, random, in the crowd. "..is a beer shy of being able to start a brewery. I give him another half hour, at best. That's being generous." Not so quietly she scoffed, "Light weight."

[bl4ckorch1d]

SHACKLE // Buckthorne Woods

Male Naga OC / GN! Reader

1.5k Words || AO3

Slight horror themes.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The forest was almost deadly silent, an oddity for such a usually lively place. One place once visited by many turned abandoned acres. Though it wasn’t a mystery, the nation needed a specific place for the things they deemed ‘unsightly’ for their aesthetic modernized cities. It seemed not even the birds wanted to stick around, not wanting to become prey to either fangs or claws. 

Buckthorne Woods, a name known by many and feared just the same. It only seemed like a few years ago until the humans decided ‘monsters’ can’t roam free on their own free will anymore. Almost seems like they got bored of fighting themselves and moved on to a different area of the food tree. While the woods were certainly one of the largest in the nation, it still was nowhere near big enough to hold every ‘monstrosity’ that roamed the land; their population almost became cut in half due to this. Not much of a chance for a bloom either, while the forest dwellers stay among their own types and don’t fight with each other over land, most refuse to bring a child into such a hate-filled world. Some kinds are becoming almost extinct; mostly the less humanoid they look, the lesser their number is. 

A waterfall was all that truly broke the silence in this specific part of the forest, a beautiful sight almost no one will ever know exists. All that accompanied other than the lush forest greens was a small opening to a cavern, only lit by the sun shining into it.

═.✾. ═══════

The water rippled against the paddles that ran through it, a canoe accompanied by a lone fisher. Setting your canoe under light shading, between the endless green that surrounded your figure. With the paddle set aside, you are in high hopes for fish above the average. With your dominant hand gripping your fishing pole, in a single swoop, you swing the line into the water. A small splash accompanied the bobber as it broke the surface tension of the water. The rays of the sun crack through the open spaces of shade, your skin embracing the slight heat. Eyes steady for any slight pull, you sit there tense. A slight tug on the pole, “Finally, a bite.” you hum to yourself. As you go to start reeling in, your body suddenly drags forward, slamming at the edge of the canoe almost tipping over. You try balancing yourself all while whatever was hooked squirmed around violently in the water, splashing and sending slight waves in all directions. Stubbornly, you began pulling back in panic and hurry, but all this action resulted in was a loud snap. Your back harshly hits the bottom of the canoe, as it sways from side to side. “Damn it”, you thought to yourself, “Should have brought spares.”, as you looked down at the snapped pole.

  At this point, your only goal was to find your way home after that experience. The river only went in one direction, and you swore you remembered which way you came from. So why did it feel so ominously wrong? Paddling through the water, you had expected to find the subtle tracks you left behind to get back out of the forest. The endless overgrown verdure shielded most of your view, but you could hear the heavy sound of water crashing against itself. You knew at that moment that you were completely lost. Your phone was rendered useless without an ounce of service, and the map you brought was drenched from the fishing disaster. The idea of making it back seemed like a pipe dream. It was late evening, and by the time you could even make it back to your fishing spot, the forest would be enveloped by complete darkness. Heading on towards the sound of the water, your eyes were met with an enchanting sight. A waterfall with almost crystal clear water in the pool below it, the scene looked straight out of a magazine. Looking past the constant pouring, there was a cavern hidden slightly beside the falls. Seemed to be your last resort for a place to reside. Paddling on, you dock your canoe as close to the cavern as you can without it getting completely flooded. Grabbing any salvageable supplies, you adventure forward to the mouth of the cavern. 

Nothing seems odd at first glance, a few spiders with their webs seem to be the only company you’ll have tonight. You drop your bag only a few feet into the cavern, far enough to be protected from the elements but close enough to still see outside. The cavern seemed to split into many tunnels further along and that just seemed like a horrible idea to adventure in your current state. Luckily your small blanket had survived the onslaught of water, a small comfort in your hellish predicament. If it wasn’t for the bed of rocks you laid on, you could almost trick yourself into thinking the waterfall was a sound machine when you shut your eyes.

◦ • • • • • • • ◦

Pains shot up your left leg, and you could feel the bile burning in the back of your throat as you lurched awake. Your eyes water as you lose the fight against your nausea. Choking as the last bit of bile makes it out of your mouth. Reaching for your backpack so you can fish out your thermostat to rid the aftertaste of vomit. Instead of the bag, your hand meets straw. You aren’t where you fell asleep. Panic rises in your system as you notice your left leg has swollen like a balloon and the leg beside it has a glistening silver shackle around it.  

You try to make sense of the rest of your surroundings. You seem to be at a dead end of one of the tunnels you spotted earlier. A small fire lights the area with the smoke billowing out into a tiny hole within the wall. If that hole led outside, it seems it is still night. You can’t spot your bag anywhere in the room, there wasn’t much of anything other than the small straw bed you laid upon and the small fire. Oh, and of course the shackle around your ankle that seemed to glisten as it taunted you. Yanking on it seemed to only deliver more pain to the opposite leg as you slightly moved. The chain connected to it was rooted deep into the cave wall, you’d need a jackhammer to even hope to remove it. 

Seems like you really should have listened to all the warning signs you saw at the entrance of the forest, instead of delusionally hoping no harm would have come to you. Now you lay prisoner to some mystery creature. Yelling seemed pointless as no other humans would be anywhere near the entrance of the cavern, and you couldn’t tell how deep you were into it. The noise would also likely attract whatever trapped you, but that almost seemed better than willowing alone in pain. So, you did as any white girl would do in a cheesy horror film and yelled out, “Is anybody there?” . . . A weird mix of relief and disappointment washed over you as silence was your only response. Not even the slightest rustle, only the crackling of embers. 

A sigh escaped your lips, almost masking the slight foreign noise just outside from where you could see. Nausea hits like a typhoon once you lay eyes on who you guessed to be your captor. A naga male, he could almost be mistaken for a model if it wasn’t for the tail that replaced where legs would be. “The rabbit finally awakens I see.” A silky deeper voice, one that overenunciated its s’ by quite a bit. His tan upper half shifted as he went to throw the sticks into the dying fire. Once he moved closer you could finally get a good look at him, his snake side resembling a ‘tiger snake’ with the black and yellow banding. A sharp jawline matched, with sharp golden brown eyes. Black hair tied messily into a bun. Could be worse, much better than some smelly goblin at least.  Your internal monologue was disrupted as he moved to you, getting closer to your swollen leg. “Suprised it hasn’t turned purple yet.” He let out a snide hiss as he poked it, his smile widening as you whimpered out in pain. “But don’t worry, it’s only been mere hours. It’ll swell much more by morning.” A prideful huff as those sharp eyes glanced down at you. He was obviously mocking you, and you could only grit your teeth in response. His hand swatting at you, “No need for that, I’m not going to let it get that bad dear.” The tone made him seem so condescending that you wouldn’t be surprised if he bit you again, right in the same puncture wounds. “Now, give me a second, don’t go anywhere!” . . . Maybe a goblin would have been better. His form quickly slithers out of the area leaving nothing but the sounds of embers once again.

═══════ .✾. ═

[captawesomesauce]

Thoughts at 530pm..

Today was SUCH a good day.

Do you know how incredible it feels to be able to go out when it's in the low 70s, a nice breeze, and the water is just gorgeous?

We're just a couple of miles away from the waterfront.

There is so much to see and do here, and this time of year the weather is so nice and people are all at work and in school when we're free to roam.

I've been so spoiled my entire life because I knew I would always end up "home." Whenever I was in another state, or another country I never really got homesick until we were in Arizona. It was always fun to explore places, see new things, try new foods.. places had stuff that was exciting!

Arizona... didn't. It was either too damn hot (record number of over 100 days in a row!!!) or it was just.. half meh/half ick. Everything was just dirt and rock and - that's it. There was very little to explore, very little to see or do.

Let me explain why I love here - We have a VERY large green park with multiple lakes, model plane airfield, model boat lake, fishing, and ducks and a train area and a dog park and just so much to see and explore with so much life around.

Across the street is a nature reserve with multiple hiking trails (6 different paths in fact) and it has so much to see and do including so many cute turtles!

There's a small park just across the street which has a lot of grassy area to walk and it's shady and nice.

To the south is a lagoon, a real salt water lagoon with a beach and a bridge that goes across the middle of the water and the bridge goes down to a landing at water level so you can sit there and look at all the sea life and even go swimming. It even has a fake beach so you basically park the car, there's a small strip of sand, and then water! Easy peasy to set up and relax for the day!

Then we have mothers beach which is nearby and right on the inlet so you can watch all of the boats go by, or even rent outriggers, paddle boards, and canoes!

Then you have the actual ocean with so much to see and do along the water front.

You have naples canal which has so many beautiful homes and stuff to see and explore.

2nd street with all of the shops, bars, and restaurants is right there too!

We also have a japanese garden close by!

And that's just right NEAR me. That's not even talking about going to the aquarium, or the lighthouse, or shoreline village or the queen mary! Or going to seal beach! Or driving down PCH through HB and Newport and everything!

All day, every day, every week there are festivals, there are food festivals, music festivals, a whiskey tasting festival. There are air shows, and marathons, bike races, and even an indy car street race!

The entire time we were in AZ you know what there was? - I don't. We looked, we tried to explore... there... wasn't shit.

And all of these things are outdoors and away from people so we're still COVID safe. This doesn't even include all the cool arts & crafts fairs, the farmers markets and the swap meets/flea markers!

I love this place.

[queerfictionwriter]

Writing Update: November 2022

So, November was weird! I didn’t actually manage to do any of the things I had planned at the end of October, but it still ended up being a pretty damn great month, writing-wise, for me anyway—despite November historically not being a month where I get a lot of writing done. 

Total wordcount: 17, 424 (!!!)

Highlights: 

You mean aside from that gorgeous word count that was the highest monthly total for me this year??? 

Dreamt up a wickedly good idea with @piceuscelus that culminated in a series (which can be found here—it’s Witcher fandom blasphemy AU), where I wrote and posted the second fic (this one!) 

Worked on the next installment of the Eskel/Renfri series with @violaceum-vitellina-viridis (series can be found here—I know it’s a rarepair and the two of us are the only ones paddling in this canoe, but oh my god, it’s so good) 

Worked on some Patreon stuff for December and January 

Started a Laiden fic because I had an idea that munched on my grey matter 

Pivoted back around to a long-running WIP of mine, the RA AU (unposted, Steter) and finished what will probably be chapter six once it starts posting; WIP is now at 25.5k 

Finished what will be the first chapter of the Steter BDSM AU (unposted); that WIP is now at 4.4k 

Goals for December: 

Finish one of the fics I have started for @violaceum-vitellina-viridis‘s birthday and post the belated birthday gift 

Complete Jannuary’s batch of Patreon stuff 

Start and also finish the other birthday fic I have planned

[twothpaste]

fic snippet. lucas & isaac boating hours, feat. worldbuilding, flashbacks within flashbacks, and layers upon layers of remorse.

Lucas' kayak was carved from red cedar. Gold in the morning. Vermilion by sunset. Thread it deftly through any tide, like a needle mending a torn shirt. He learned to paddle when his arms were still made of sticks n' twigs, n' his scars were still cleft in crimson. As were Nowhere's. Weaving the channels between ruptured cliffsides. Dodging grisly swaths of surfaced bedrock. Perilous was the word after - at least, upon first glance. 'Til the Dragon's shadow draped down, to temper the waves. Kid grew into his strength. Sturdy biceps, sure. Muscles not so lean. Ain't your arms that get ya there, though. You row from your core. This vessel was - and still is, in his lonesomest hours - his home away from home. It's his heart that carries it.

Bronson did the bulk of the handiwork. Whittling away the chilly mornings, while kiddo slept off tears n' terrors. "But really," he'd insisted, come Christmastime, "It's a gift from all of us." Jill had beamed her best ear-to-ear grin. Abbey n' Abbot, in their matchin' holiday sweaters, gave meek waves. Tessie'd done a fine job wrapping the goshdarn thing. Leder, from his mile-high vantage, had picked the perfect tree. Lighter lent his axe. And so on.

A hero's greatest thanks, apparently, take the form of smiling sobs.

"It's wonderful. Really. Th.. Thank y'all."

To his left strode Isaac's big ol' canoe. Beige as could be. He'd mentioned need of it, offhand, the spring after. Gruffly resigned himself to the task. Takin' clumsy bites out of a fallen trunk, with an unsharpened carving knife. While jetsam surfaced, and shifted about, in his aching head. Again - the guy was indeed a woodsman. Friend to the trees, n' creatures that be. His role was aptly set. But he was no lumberjack. N' far from a shipwright. In his dreams - to this day - he roams the desert-dry creeks and lakebeds of Appalachia. Searching in vain, for survivors of any clade.

Lighter found him there (or rather, not there at all) on the Sunshine Forest floor. Chipping haphazard pieces. Tree rings laid bare. Scattered about, in choppy chunks.

"… Yer goin' about it all wrong, y'know."

And Isaac leered up at him. Squinting through the crack in his glasses.

He could growl back, if he wanted. Proclaim otherwise. Or shrug it off. Say not a damn thing, n' wait for him to leave. The hermit could tell his forsaken neighbor to go to hell, for all he cared. Made not a lick of difference. His protests were for less than naught. Before he knew it, Lighter n' his boy were at his side, salvaging his wreck. Showin' him the craft. Teach a man to fish. N' all that.

He didn't deserve it, then.

Maybe he does, now. Who's to say.

The vest he had tailored was snug to his chest, and almost familiar. Lucas' was all but identical. "Mm… Maybe make it a size up, if ya could," kid told Tessie. "I'd prob'ly outgrow it in a few months, otherwise." And he'd've been right, by his next birthday. 'Til then, his vest hang slightly loose over him, ruffling in the breeze. Such thoughtful foresight had always distinguished him from the rest.

Isaac wore a badge, as well. Courtesy of Bronson, n' Fuel's apprentice metalwork. It weighed him down. Like every other ounce of generosity. Perhaps this too was an exercise in penance.

They made another for Lucas. He kept it at home. Stowed away, in a little bedside drawer. Ranger or not, never again would he dare pin anything of the sort to his vest, nor jacket, nor any breast pocket.

Call it what you will.

Both boats twined the Murasaki-Highway border, upon this fine 11 AM. Both Rangers kept their eyes peeled. Roving the myriad islets which splattered the Mapson's handiwork, in search of their quarry. A cluster of pink snouts. A ragged, weedy sprout.

Got a tip from the locals, see. An ex-militant encampment, takin' up residence in the asphalt ruins. The Pigpen, they called 'emselves. Proudly. Colonel Hox used to reign as their Napoleon. Three years prior, she n' they had stood in rebellious opposition to Tazmilian civility. Like a gang o' rowdy Lost Boys. But with Peter Pan in prison, and their winter stockpiles dwindling, separatist resolve seemed an increasingly fleeting fantasy. Offers of aid, a less damnable prospect.

"We're overgrown with the little hellions," Hox's guys told Isaac. Barkin' up at him, like tin toy sergeants. "Can't hardly breathe, what for all the spores. You can bash 'em all ya like, but they just puff out more of the shit! N' then five more sprout in their place! If you bleedin' hearts think you can help, be our guest. Here."

Neither soldier would even grace Lucas with a glare. A pair of hoggish masks found their way into Isaac's hands, instead. Battered to hell n' back. Calamine pink. In contrast with the cobalt blue that stared him down.

"Don't get it twisted, now, private. Colonel's only lettin' ya borrow these 'cause of your service history. If it were up to me, though? Heh. I'd let ya both choke to death."

"Noted," answered Isaac . His frown unwavering. "Thank you, Tyson. We'll be back by sundown."

And Tyson froze, for a sec. Sputtering vaguely. Surprised the craven hillbilly oaf had remembered his name. The Rangers took his hesitation as an opportunity to skedaddle. Head back shoreward, n' get to work.

Thus, their first outing had 'em relocating Pigtunias off the sundered Highway flats.

Their latest has 'em on a pontoon. Layin' out a crescent of netting, 'round the Harbor's periphery. Catch whatever garbage may float astray, before it's lost to the wild blue yonder. The motor revs n' rumbles at their ears. Lucas is a stiff, peculiar, not-quite-Lucaslike kind of quiet. In for four counts, through his nose. Out for eight. Teeth barely ajar. Eyes kneading the horizon line. Just as dirty nails knead calloused palms.

He bore the same silence then, too.

Isaac, the selfish prick he'd always been, would carve any quiet into klutzy splinters. Bustling banter was his bane. Small town gossip n' coworker rapport drove him reeling back to the shade. Lips curled, head spinning. A stark reminder of un-belonging. But quiet? Oh, he could hardly hold the peace. Find a clearing, and barrel right in. Fashion a goddamn therapist's couch, on the spot, with his gruesome carpentry skills. It's why he'd said such awful shit to the kid - made a total ass of himself - back before. Why he found himself rambling like a maniac to a goddamn fourteen-year-old, fishin' by a ripped-to-shreds river, about ye olde Forest Service. How his whole pitiful life story had to precede his apologies. And how, therefore, Lucas of all people was the only hapless sap who got to hear either.

"It's alright," the kid had told him. And meant it. At the time, how could he not? With everything that'd drifted up from the depths, in lieu of Leder's bell? Most everyone had lost a mother. A brother - for real, n' for good. N' a few undeserving billions besides. So, who was he to wield a cudgel? To bear grudges down upon clueless traitors, and their countless burdens? "Nah," he'd said. "It's fine." It was fine.

Even though it wasn't.

On the canoe, Isaac broke the silence with a story. That one from the Bible. His namesake. He'd carried it with him since he was small. It tumbled outta some tangential pocket.

Lucas said, low and brittle, he was glad to hear it at sixteen. As opposed to six. The nightmares wouldda been ceaseless.

On the pontoon, Isaac breaks it with a request. Not for his own sake. Someone else's. Progress comes in increments. ...

[granolabird]

Summer days drifting away

My fic for Hournite week day 2: Summer Camp. I’ve been to a summer camp only twice, once as a camper, once as a counselor, but I’ve also played The Quarry a whole lot so most of my camp knowledge is from there, so if you see any similarities that’s why. Oops.

.

It’s finally over. Rick reclines on his bunk, taking a moment to breathe. He had never wanted to work at a summer camp. He hated being out in the sun, he hated bugs, and most importantly, he hated kids. They were loud, didn't respect boundaries, and he could never figure out what to do when they were crying. In retrospect it really seemed like the words ‘summer camp’ were really just a translated term for ‘hellscape’ to him. Yet here he was, in the ‘Grizzly Bear’ cabin of ’Star Light Summer Camp', at the end of a summer spent being a counsellor. 

Just outside of Blue Valley, apparently this was the go-to place for small town children to be sent for the summer. When Mrs. Woods told him that he should apply, and that it would be good for experience, Rick was sceptical.See the above reasons, obviously. But she was persuasive. That, and she said it paid relatively well. Rick needed to get some more parts for his car, and selling kegs wasn't cutting it. The pay, paired with the idea that he could miraculously escape his not-so-friendly Uncle Matt for an entire summer sold him on the idea. 

So, he went ahead and took the job. And all his worries be damned, he actually somehow managed to have a good time. Sure, there were a few incidents regarding homesick children, as well as Rick’s barely contained urge to strangle some of his fellow counsellors, but all in all it had been a good experience. He spent his days taking his cabin’s kids kayaking, hiking, and his personal favourite, rock climbing. The camp had become his own little paradise away from his hellish home life. He’d made some solid friendships too. Courtney was alright, even if she was a little too annoyingly chatty. And Yolanda had taught him some pretty solid rock climbing and boxing tips. He didn’t care much for Cameron, or Cindy, or Artemis… But that’s alright, he thinks he did pretty well to avoid them anyway. Then there was Beth. 

Rick knows Beth. Much like the rest of the other counsellors, they've gone to school together for years, and whenever he actually bothers to show up to the caf for lunch he always sits at her table. She spends her lunch breaks video chatting with her parents, and is by every definition of the word, a total nerd. Another (less important, in Rick's opinion) fact about Beth Chapel is that Rick has an embarrassingly large crush on her. He's not sure when it developed. Probably somewhere around the time she offered to lend him her English notes because he'd skipped class again, and when he offhandedly told her she'd made a small grammar mistake she called him her “new best friend!”

 Rick wasn't sure how many 'new best friends' Beth had, but he did know that as soon as she said that he felt a flutter in his chest that meant something bad. It meant he was feeling things, and the last thing he needed was to feel things. See, Beth is everything Rick isn't. She's sweet, and kind, and smart, and a goody two shoes. 

She's perfect. 

Which is why spending an entire summer with her wasn’t ideal. He couldn’t have Beth finding out how much of a self-proclaimed asshole he was when he wasn’t around her. Being around kids helped him reign in any temperamental issues, but he still worried that one misstep would lead to disaster. What if he accidentally swore around a kid, or broke a canoe paddle, or not-so-accidentally tripped Cindy when she was walking by his cabin… The list went on and on. Yeah, he was glad to be free of this place. 

Except, as per usual, there was another problem. Apparently he had been informed at the start of camp (he stands by the apparently because he had no memory of being told this) that there was an end-of-summer tradition. 

Yesterday evening Cameron marched into their shared cabin and said:

“Hey Rick, excited for the counsellor day tomorrow?” In that stupid deep monotonous voice of his, as if it made the most sense in the world. 

Of course, Rick had no idea what he was talking about. He said as much. Cameron stared at him for a few seconds, followed by,

“Don’t you remember from the debriefing? After the kids are gone  we get one day to ourselves to chill at the camp alone. They do it every year. It’s pretty dope.”

To Rick that really sounded the opposite of dope. Despite his enjoyment of the previous days of summer, this sounded like a nightmare. Rick didn’t like most of the other counsellors. He didn’t want to spend a day chilling with them. He wanted to take his newly earned cash, go home, fix his car, and go back to his life of avoiding Matt and skipping school. That was what sounded dope to Rick. 

Given the situation, Rick decided he had to take matters into his own hands. He absolutely would not be taking part in this ‘counsellor’ day, so he had to come up with a way to dodge it. He was relatively good at skipping school, so surely this would be a breeze. His solution to the problem was as follows: Simply stay inside all day until nightfall, and then go to sleep and in the morning he could wake up and this would all be over. The plan was foolproof, at least in Rick’s eyes. 

Unfortunately he didn’t account for the fact that every single person at camp knew where his cabin was. So, as he’s reclining in his bunk, taking that moment to breathe, he’s unceremoniously interrupted by a knock on the door. He jolts up, eyeing the window. It’s fine. As long as he stays quiet, they won’t know he’s in here.

Another knock, followed by the sound of Courtney’s voice yelling;

“Rick, we know you’re in there!”

Ah. Shit. 

“Leave me alone. I’m uh, napping.”

“It’s 12 P.M. You don’t need to nap. We know you’re avoiding us. Get out here!”

So much for a day of quiet avoidance and relaxation. 

Reluctantly Rick makes his way over to the door, opening it slowly to peer out at his assailants. Courtney, Yolanda, and Artemis all wait expectantly. Thankfully Beth isn’t present, so he doesn’t feel too bad about saying:

“Leave me alone. They said we had a day of camp to ourselves. I’ve selected my day as a day of relaxing alone away from everyone else. Is that too much to ask for?”

“Yes.” Courtney says, and Yolanda and Artemis both nod as if to further prove her point.

“C’mon Rick, don’t you wanna hang out with everyone? I mean we spent so much time with the kids we don’t even know each other! You don’t wanna join in on a bonding experience?” Yolanda offers.

“Respectfully, no.” Rick huffs, beginning to close the door.

Artemis chimes in, “We’re about to go on a group hike!”

“Sounds like a chance to get bitten by even more mosquitos.” 

The door closes a little more.

The girls all seem to debate for a moment, glancing at one another, before Courtney finally says, 

“There’s gonna be truth or dare at the campfire tonight. It could be your chance to finally kiss Beth!” 

Rick debates for a moment between slamming the door, ripping his eyes from his skull in utter embarrassment, or yelling at Courtney. He decides on the latter.

“I told you already, I don’t have a crush on her!” 

That just makes the opposing trio laugh, much to Rick’s annoyance.

“Everyone knows you two like each other, Rick. If me and Cam can get together over summer camp, why can’t you and Beth?” Courtney tries, gesturing to herself with a smile.

Yes it’s true. Apparently being counsellors together had kindled something between Cameron and Courtney, and by week three of camp they were the talk-of-the-camp couple. It was annoyingly sweet to see them taking care of campers hand in hand like parents of a very large crowd of unruly children. But that was them. Rick was a strictly no-relationship, live-alone-until-I-die kind of person. He didn’t do summer romance. He didn’t do romance at all. Which is why, instead of saying anything to Courtney, his next course of action was to close the door. 

“I’m staying inside. I’ve had enough camp activities over the last two months to last me a lifetime, so go off on your hike and leave me be.”

“You can’t stay in there forever you know!” Yolanda shouts, to which Rick responds

“Not forever! Just until tomorrow morning when the bus comes to take us home!” before flopping back onto his bunk with a contented sigh. 

Yes, he thinks to himself. I handled that perfectly.

For the majority of the rest of the day Rick is uninterrupted. He has no signal, so he spends his time playing stupid offline games on his phone, listening to music, and boredly colouring in a book that one of the campers left behind. Was his ideal day listening to The Black Keys while colouring in pictures of puppies and kittens? No, absolutely not, but it was better than social interaction. He had to do something to keep his mind busy or else it would wander. He’d wonder where Beth was, if she was having fun without him, if he was missing out on something important, or if anyone even noticed he was missing. He shakes his head and reaches for the box of pencil crayons. No, he was supposed to want to stay here alone and away from everyone else, and not have any stupid fear of missing out. They were fine without Rick, and he was fine with that because he’s a loner. Always has been. But then, as he sits, boredly scribbling orange onto a picture of a cartoon cat in a flower field, there’s another knock on the door. 

It seems the forces that be want to disprove Rick’s loner philosophy. He makes the executive decision that won’t let them win. 

“I already told you, I’m spending the day alone here Courtney. Let me colour in my Lisa Frank in peace!” He shouts, refusing to even bother opening the door.

There’s a long pause, and he thinks he’s scared Courtney off. Just as he settles in to return to his bored colouring, a voice pipes up.

“I’m sorry, what?”

It’s Beth.

It’s Beth.

Oh no.

Rick takes a moment to bury his head in his hands in complete and utter despair, as he realises what he’s just said. Slowly he stands, and like a walk of shame makes his way to the door. He opens it to see Beth standing there, smiling like today is the greatest day ever, which it clearly is not.

“Did you just say you were colouring in a Lisa Frank colouring book?” She asks, attempting to peer behind him to catch a glimpse of his colouring masterpiece. “If I say yes, will you promise not to say anything to Cindy? Because if she knows then the whole school will know when we get back and I’ll never live it down.”

“Why would I tell her? She likes me just about as much as she likes you, even though I’ve tried to be her friend a million times over.”

“Solid point.” 

There’s a moment of silence which Rick can’t quite decide is awkward, or if it’s just Beth being amused.

“So, uh, why are you here?” Rick breaks the silence, rocking on his heels. “Oh! Courtney told me that you were staying in here, which I totally get, a whole summer of interaction is a lot… But it’s getting late and I don’t know if you had lunch? They’re starting dinner on the campfire so I thought I should check in and see if you needed me to grab you something to eat. I didn’t want you to starve.”

Rick just about melts at Beth’s concern. She went out of her way to worry about him. He thinks his heart is about to explode.

“It’s alright, I guess I can head down there to go grab something. I don’t know if I’ll stay though.” Beth’s eyes light up instantly.

“Yeah! We should probably head down soon, you know how quickly Artemis can eat fire-roasted hotdogs. If she gets her hands on them there probably won’t be any left for us.”

Rick laughs at that, closing his door behind him. She’s right. When it comes to campfire food, Artemis is an unstoppable force, and he would really like to eat something. He hadn’t realised how hungry he’d been feeling until now. 

“We can go now, don’t worry. I’m sure Lisa Frank can wait.” He assures Beth, and she grins. With that they both head down the path towards the fire together, making a variety of stupid Lisa Frank enduced jokes as they go.

Rick hears the fire before he sees it, the dull chatter of his fellow counsellors paired with the crackling of burning wood giving away that it was just around the bend. As he and Beth turn the corner, the entire group looks at them. It really is just the counsellors. He had expected the camp leader, Sylvester, to be at least supervising them. Then again, he wasn’t the most responsible camp owner in the first place.

“Look who finally decided to show up!” Cindy crows from her spot beside Artemis.

Courtney and Yolanda wave, Cameron vaguely nods in their direction, and Artemis doesn’t look up from where she’s busy cooking hotdogs over the fire. Rick shoots them a vague peace sign instead of a wave, as he and Beth settle onto one of the log seats around the fire. He tells himself that he’s just going to stay for food and then leave, but he knows that’s not true. Beth is already chatting with Courtney excitedly, and he can’t help but listen and chime into the conversation where he can. It’s not because he enjoys being around these people, it’s just because he’s trying not to seem awkward. At least that’s what he keeps telling himself.

The evening wears on, and Rick keeps desperately searching for a reason to leave. Every time he tries, Beth starts a new conversation with him, or glances over to him in a way that makes his heart feel a way it has no right to feel. He knows that this is so stupid, that he should just go, but he can’t bring himself to. Instead he keeps chatting idly, eating hot dogs and marshmallows, and refusing to admit that he’s actually enjoying himself. The campfires with kids had been fun, but spending your time making sure campers didn’t throw themselves into a firepit is a completely different experience compared to being at a campfire with people you (mostly) actually enjoy. He’s onto his third marshmallow when Artemis yells over the group chatter to ask,

“You guys want me to tell a scary story?”

There’s a resounding chorus of No’s, nope’s, and no thank you’s. Artemis’ scary stories are notoriously bad, despite the fact that she seems to believe they’re the best thing since sliced bread. The one time Rick was put on Campfire duty with her and she told a story, it hadn’t been about ghosts, or ghouls, or monsters. It was about her losing a football game. Horrific to her, sure, but entirely boring for the rest of the camp who had been expecting something more supernatural in nature. 

“How about, instead of scary stories, we get around to that game of truth or dare?” Cindy asks, eyes alight with mischief. Cindy is Rick’s least favourite of all the other counsellors. He’s about 90% sure all the others, bar Artemis, feel the same way as he does. How she got a summer job dealing with children is truly beyond him. She’s self-centred, conniving, and all around just the worst person( (In his personal opinion at least). So, upon hearing her offer to start the game of truth or dare, Rick makes the executive decision to leave. He shuffles on the bench, getting ready to stand. Stupid party games were never his thing anyway, so he wouldn’t miss out on much. 

Then he looks over to Beth. She seems just as unsure, glancing around as if looking for an escape route. With a deep breath, he decides to act.

“You wanna head out? Truth or dare isn’t really my thing.” He asks Beth quietly, leaning over to her so that the others don’t hear. She looks over to him in surprise, but her features are laced with a look of gratitude.

“Yeah, I’m not the biggest fan of it either. I’d rather skip out.” She whispers back, and Rick nods at the confirmation.

“Right well, you guys go ahead with your games. Beth and I are going.” Rick tells the others, already standing, and offering Beth a hand to help her up.

“Oh c’mon! We’re just getting to the fun bit!” Courtney cries out.

Yolanda elbows her with a look Rick can’t quite decipher, but whatever it is, it shuts Courtney up as she returns to whatever quiet talk she’d been having with Cameron. Rick glares around the fire, looking for anyone else who might dispute, but nobody says a word. Artemis throws him a thumbs up, which worries him slightly, but otherwise the group seems preoccupied. Cindy shoots him a glance that looks somewhere between malice and almost… like she’s proud of him? But he shelves that for later as he leads Beth away from the fire.

As the noise from the campfire fades into the distance, Rick finds himself wondering what to do now. He’s alone with Beth, navigating a trail in the dimming light. It’s not fully dark yet, but it’s getting pretty close, so he grabs his phone and turns on the flashlight. 

“So where to?” He asks, and Beth glances over his way.

“I’m not sure, actually. I just didn’t feel like watching Artemis light herself on fire again.”

“Again?”

“Oh! I forgot you weren’t here last year. Last year, it was the same deal. We did truth or dare, and Artemis tried to jump the firepit. She tripped over a rock and lit her hair on fire.” Beth explains, glancing back nervously towards the fire.

“That explains that weird start of school haircut she got last year. I wish I was there to see that, it sounds like something else.” Rick chuckles to himself.

“Meh, it wasn’t as grand as it sounds. Just a lot of screaming and jumping into the lake. Funny looking back at it, but stressful in the moment.” Beth explains with a shrug.

They walk a little further, just sort of enjoying each other's company as the sounds of crickets fill the silence. 

“Do you wanna go to the Star Field? It’s kinda my favourite place to go, I’d like to visit one last time before we leave.” Beth blurts out suddenly, startling Rick a little. 

The Star Field is the place for stargazing at the camp. Campers get to bring out telescopes, set them up, and watch the constellations. It’s one of the more isolated and peaceful locations at camp, and Rick totally understands why Beth likes it so much.

“Yeah, sure. That sounds nice.” That sounds nice?? What kind of stupid answer is that?? Rick cringes at his response, but he tries his best not to show it. They chat idly the rest of the walk, as Rick tries desperately not to think too hard about the fact that he’s alone with Beth, going to what may possibly be the most romantic spot at camp.

It takes them a while, but finally they reach the top of the hill that leads them to the Star Field. Tonight the field is aglow with fireflies, flitting around the grass in the dim light. The telescope shed is locked, so the pair decide just to relax for a while. Neither of them are keen to lay on the grass, so Rick takes off his jacket and places it down like a blanket. It’s a small space so they have to lay close, arms pressed against each other as they stare at the night sky. 

“I don’t think I ever want to leave here.” Beth sighs, eyes scanning the stars.

“I wish I could say the same, but I think I’m ready to go home. Despite everything, I just want to eat a pizza pocket and sleep on a semi comfortable mattress. No offence.” Rick admits, his arms crossed across his chest in an attempt to stay warm in the cooling air.

“None taken, it’s alright, I totally get it. I haven’t had a pizza pocket in years though, so I don’t know about that one.”

“In years!? What kind of life have you been living Beth?” He gasps in feigned surprise.

“A healthy one.” Beth retorts and they both laugh, glancing at each other, their faces plastered with grins. Rick immediately notices how close they are, and he quickly returns to looking at the stars to avoid the awkwardness of the close proximity. 

“So, once you’re out of camp what’s the plan? I mean I know we go back to school in like a week, but is there anything else? Any big plans?” Beth asks as she points to the sky, tracking constellations with her fingers.

“Not really. I’m just using the money from camp to fix my car. That’s all I got.” Rick explains with as much of a shrug as he can give while laying down. Beth lowers her arms, and he sees her glance over at him from his peripheral vision.

“Your family doesn’t help you pay for that?” She asks as Rick bitterly laughs, shaking his head.

“I live with my uncle. He couldn’t care less about what happens to me, much less my car. I’m kinda on my own.”

“Is that why you took the job at the camp?”

“More or less. I get money and get away from him. It’s a win win.”

Beth goes quiet for a moment, then says;

“I’m sorry.”

Now it’s Rick’s turn to glance her way, shooting her a quizzical look.

“For what? You didn’t do anything.”

“I don’t know, not ever talking to you I guess. I mean, I know you from school but I never really got to know you. Being at camp with you has really let me understand you better. You’re a really good person. I’m just happy that this camp gave us the chance to get closer.” She admits.

“Oh.” Rick says, unable to muster anything else

“Oh?” Beth parrots back, tipping her head in a way that Rick thinks is absolutely too adorable.

“I don’t know. Nobody’s really ever said anything like that to me before. Oh is the best response I’ve got.” He explains, rubbing at his arms nervously.

That makes Beth laugh, and she rolls onto her side so she can face him. Rick takes a moment to debate before doing the same. 

They’re inches away from each other, eyes locked.

“I really like you, you know.” She admits.

“Yeah, I mean you kinda already said that, with the whole ‘you’re a good person’ thing”

He doesn’t want to assume.

“No I mean… Like you. Like, over the summer I’ve seen a side of you that I haven’t really seen before, and it made me fall a little bit in love.”

Love. That’s a big word.

“Oh.”

“Would you stop saying oh!” She pokes him playfully, but he can tell there’s worry in her eyes. Concern that he doesn’t feel the same. 

“I’m sorry! It’s just… are you sure? That you feel uh, that way about me, I mean.” He tries, but Beth immediately cuts off his train of self-doubt.

“Yes Rick, I’m sure. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same but-”

“NO! No, I do! I do feel the same. I just don’t understand how someone like you, the perfect camp counsellor role model could like me, the guy who’s just here ‘cause he kinda has to be.” Rick says, running a hand through his hair.

Beth looks at him like she’s genuinely offended, wrinkling her nose and shaking her head.

“Rick, have you seen yourself at this camp? The kids loved you! You were the ‘cool guy’ counsellor. You have no idea how many of those kids wanted a male counsellor they could actually hold a conversation with. Cam is great but he’s also got the conversational ability of a wet sponge.”

“And I don’t?” Rick retorts, though he’s half joking.

“No! I didn't even know you didn’t want to be here. It was like watching you become an instant big brother to the entire camp. I’d never seen you like that before. Did you know Nathan wouldn’t even touch the high ropes course last year? The kid was terrified of heights as far as we could all tell.” Beth tells him, and Rick is genuinely shocked.

“Are we thinking of the same Nathan? Because the kid I’m thinking of was a whiz at rock climbing, and the high ropes.” He asks, just to make sure. “Yes, because you inspired him! He saw you teaching the other kids on the rock climbing wall, and decided he wanted to be as cool as you.”

“Well clearly he doesn’t know me. I’m not that cool.”

“Maybe you think that, but to everyone else you’re incredible, Rick.”

“Beth, I was hiding in a cabin colouring in pictures of small animals like, four hours ago. Your definition of incredible may be skewed.”

“I think that just gives you more character.” Beth counters.

Rick sighs, but he can’t help but smile. Beth really does see the best in everyone. 

There’s a pause as they lay there, faces close, both smiling softly. Rick can feel his heart beating in his throat as he looks at her, and at that moment he knows that she’s the most beautiful thing in the world. And then Beth’s hands are on his face, and she’s kissing him. It’s so careful, like she’s trying not to scare him away. She doesn’t know it, but she could never scare Rick, no matter how hard she tries.

They lay like that for a while. Under the stars, Beth snuggled into his side and his arm around her as she talks to him about what constellations they can see. Rick listens, taking in as much information as he can. The other half of his brain is completely in shock, however. Had he not gone to this camp, had he not tried his stupid cabin plan, had he not asked Beth if she wanted to leave the campfire, had he not done any of that, he wouldn’t be here. It was so viscerally strange to him, and yet it all made sense. It was like a puzzle all coming together in his mind to tell him yes, you took all the right steps, you made all the right choices, and now you get to be happy. You get to feel at home. 

Even when they hear the shouting from the campfire that indicates, yes indeed Artemis has set herself on fire again, Rick can’t stop smiling. He’s also rightfully concerned of course, but that’s not what’s important. What’s important is that he’s holding Beth’s hand as they try not to laugh, rushing down the trail to the fire to see what’s happened. 

He decides then, that if he gets to spend moments like this with the people he’s learning to care about, it’s all worth it. All the days spent with sunburn, the dealing with bugs, and the screaming, crying children, it’s all worth it. As they all head back to their cabins, Artemis now one-hoodie lighter, and the others all cheering that he and Beth finally did something about their massive crushes on eachother, he doesn’t feel mad. He actually couldn’t care less about all the jeering from his companions, not even the snide comments from Cindy. For the first time in a while he’s not upset, and he doesn’t want to be alone. In fact, here, holding hands with Beth, laughing at some stupid joke Courtney just made, the truth is becoming exceedingly clear to him. These are his friends. Maybe even one day, they’ll be close enough to be family. This is the most fun Rick has had in years, and he finally thinks the one thing he never thought he would. I can’t wait to come back to camp next year.

[oneshot-wxnderland]

Sweet Dream Part 1 | Jason Grace

Summary: Jason has an interesting dream about his friend Y/n and he can’t get it out of his head all day.

Category: smut

Part 2

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          For the first time, Jason was very glad to have a cabin to himself when he woke up this morning. Breathing hard and his pulse pounding, he screwed his eyes shut and cursed Apollo for the morning rays that were breaking up the images of his dream. Images of you. And him. 

          He felt hot all over and threw his sheets off, laying there in a daze. 

          That was so weird, he thought, throwing his arms over his eyes to block out the sun. Incredibly wrong to have a dream like that about a friend like you. 

          He lay there for too long, thinking rationally about how it was just a random dream that his subconscious threw together and happened to pick you for the subject. Thinking that it meant nothing and that it was something he should just forget and move on from. And yet, as he lay there, bare chest rising and falling in the morning light, he couldn’t stop replaying the scenes from last night. 

          Scenes of you scantily dressed and beckoning, a seductress so tempting that he thought for sure you were some kind of monster waiting to ensnare him, but when he reached out and took you in his arms, he thought that even the most powerful monster couldn’t be as alluring as you were right now. 

          Scenes of you and him together, touching and kissing and more. He recalled how your body felt beneath him, his hands gliding over and gripping your soft skin. Your own hands, in his hair and pulling him ever closer. 

          When he finally roused himself to check the time he cursed, seeing that he had missed breakfast and was going to be late for sparring with Percy. 

          “Dude, where is your brain today?” Percy asked when Jason belatedly parried his strike. “I mean you’re usually easy to beat, but not this easy.”

          “Funny, Jackson.” Jason deadpanned and forced all lingering thoughts of you out of his mind so that he could focus on beating his friend. He found it to be a good distraction and went a little harder than he usually does in practice, causing Percy to respond in kind. 

          After a while, Jason had finally bested Percy and was about to disarm him when a clear voice rang out and hit him in the gut.

          “Yeah Jason! Show him who’s boss!” His head whipped around to spot you and your cabin mates gearing up to have their turn in the arena. You waved at him and the wall of distraction that sparring had provided broke and he thought of his dream again, of your hair shining like it did last night when it was fanned out against his pillow.

          Percy, intrigued by this occurrence and taking advantage of Jason’s distraction, flipped the position and left Jason disarmed on his back. 

          “You good?” He asked, lending a hand to help his friend up. 

          “Yeah,” Jason replied absentmindedly, clearly not aware of how openly he was staring at you as you warmed up. “Yeah, I’m good.”

          Percy looked between Jason and you with a raised eyebrow but decided not to question it. 

          “Okay… well, come on. It’s our turn on the lava wall.”

          The rest of the morning went better, with Jason putting his all into every task they did trying to keep his mind from wandering back to you. By lunchtime he was a sweaty mess and was having an easy conversation with Percy, who desperately wanted to consult with Annabeth on what the matter with Jason was. 

          Since Jason and Percy were each the only children of their godly parents at camp, they shared training schedules and a table at lunch so they wouldn’t be all alone. Except their lunch table rarely only housed the two of them since almost always Annabeth and some of their other friends would break the rules and sit by them. 

          So today for lunch it was the two boys and Annabeth talking about plans for their next trip to New Rome until Y/n came and sat next to Jason. 

          “Hey guys,” she greeted as she straddled the bench, leaning in to steal a grape off of Jason’s plate. He immediately stiffened at Y/n’s sudden nearness and the smell of her freshly washed hair clouded his senses. She must have just taken a shower after her morning training since her hair was still damp. And picturing her in the shower did wonders for Jason’s predicament. Great.

          His change in demeanor didn’t go unnoticed by Percy and Annabeth, who shared a look, but it was completely lost on Y/n, who grabbed another one of his grapes.

          “Hey, Y/n,” the couple greeted and started the conversation back up. Except this time Jason wasn’t contributing much since the way Y/n was leaning towards him with her arms braced in front of her on the bench was causing a very tempting distraction to peak up over her tank top. 

          “Jason?” He realized too late that she was talking to him and his eyes snapped to his plate almost as fast as his cheeks reddened. 

          “What?”

          “I said…” Y/n poked him in the shoulder. “Do you want to go canoeing with us tonight?” 

          “Oh, yeah. Sounds fun.”   

          It was most certainly not fun. This wasn’t the first time they’d snuck out after lights out to hang and do stuff, and objectively canoeing was one of the least sexy activities there is, but it still got to Jason. 

          Of course Annabeth and Percy shared a canoe which left Jason and Y/n in their own trailing after them. However, they quickly fell behind since Percy had given up on paddling and just willed their canoe forward. Damn water bastard that he is.

          “You still alive back there?” Y/n called back to him.

          “Yeah.”

          “You’re not talking.”

          “Yeah.”

          “Okay.” She put down her paddle and started to stand up, rocking the canoe as she did.

          “What are you doing?” Jason asked concerned as he tried to keep the canoe steady while she turned around and sat to face him.

          “You’ve been weird all day. What’s up.” 

          “Nothing.”

          “It’s definitely something.”

          “No. It’s not.” 

          Y/n sighed and turned back around, starting to paddle back to shore. “If you don’t wanna talk, that’s fine. I’m gonna go to bed.”

          Jason’s mind was at war with itself as he hopped out of the canoe and tied it to the dock. On the one hand he felt bad for being rude to Y/n, but on the other he was wondering if her moonlit skin was as soft as he remembered it being in the dream. Or if her laugh sounded anything like the way she moaned in his ear.

          He was so caught up in his head that when Y/n tripped getting out of the canoe, Jason not only caught her but pulled her to him. Her eyes slightly widened and her intake of breath made Jason want to get more sounds out of her but he came to and hastily stepped away as if she would burn him.

          Now thoroughly confused and pissed off by his mixed signals, Y/n scoffed and turned to leave. 

          Without thinking, Jason caught her wrist and blurted out, “I had a dream last night.”

          Y/n looked at him more confused than ever, but didn’t shake his grasp.    

          “Okay?”

          “About you.”

          “Oh?” She took in the clench of his jaw and how he refused to look at her and it clicked. “Oh.”

          “So that’s why I’ve been weird all day. Sorry.”

          They stood there in silence for a few seconds that seemed like an eternity while Jason waited for her to curse him out, laugh, or even push him off the dock. But when her hand came to rest on his cheek it wasn’t to shove him away and instead gently turned his face to hers.

          She took a step closer to him and the heated gaze of his dream seductress moved from his lips to his eyes as she spoke the words he would remember forever: 

          “Do you want to recreate it?”

Part 2 

[hansols-yoda-boxers]

Camp North Star - June 27th

[12:46]

“Hey, how are the kiddies?” You asked with a chuckle as Wonwoo trudged into the canoe cabin. You were busy doing last minute organizing of the spaces for campers to leave their things and find the lifejackets and paddles. Luckily you didn’t have any duties in greeting the campers as they arrived today. Wonwoo was not so lucky.

“How did I work in a cabin for two years?” He asked tiredly, dropping into a chair and taking a swig of his water.

“I asked myself the same question. I mean l loved my campers but they were still a lot.”

“I guess we see more of them now,” he hummed.

“Ahh but only for an hour and a half at a time. We get more breaks.”

Wonwoo nodded to himself as he took a swig of water. “That is good. Almost makes up for spending the whole summer out in the sun on the water.”

“I know you wouldn’t have applied for canoeing if you hated it,” you chuckled.

“You don’t know,” he said.

“Alright, why did you apply for spending your summer in a canoe, then?”

“It was the only option that didn’t suck,” he grinned.

“Was it the only thing you were qualified for?”

“Maybe,” He mumbled into his water bottle.

You let out a laugh before sitting on the table and patting him on the shoulder. “At least you like canoeing well enough. Sometimes people get stuck with things they hate.”

“It could be worse,” He agreed. “I only have a mildly annoying co-coach.”

“You love me,” you snorted.

“You’re fine,” he grinned. “And you’re fun, I’ll give you that.”

“You’re damn right I am,” You said, taking a sip of your water. “I even got you to stop hermitting.”

“Careful, I might spook and hide in the cabin forever.”

You rolled your eyes. “You won’t. You like them now.”

“They’re fine.”

You kicked at him playfully. “You’re friends with the lifeguards. Admit it, you like it.”

“It’s definitely more interesting.”

You snorted. “One of these days I’ll make you admit you like having friends here.”

“Sure you will,” he hummed, taking another sip of water.

[jeonmagines]

RED HEARTS | 10 | “u right he sexy”

prev | next

jungkook x reader

genere: crack, fluff, angst

summary: you draw hearts on your soulmate’s face everyday just to annoy him.

MY SIDE COMMENTS HAVE PARENTHESES I LIKE TO JUDGE MYSELF WHILE WRITING

“who ya texting?” jungkook asked as he got up to sit REALLY close to you. “oh nobody. just my mom haha” you said as you avoided eye contact. the silence in the bus was LOUD and very awkward but then he takes your hand and plays with it. “what are you doing?” you ask while staring at him like 👁👄👁. your heart was beating rapidly and you felt like the whole bus could hear it. “i like playing with people’s hands. don’t get the wrong idea. i do this to everyone.” you laugh at his response and just let him do whatever he was doing with your hand. on the other side of the bus you noticed jinah glaring at you but as soon as you made eye contact she looked away. “maybe you shouldn’t do that. your girlfriend’s looking.” you say as you move your hand away. “what? jinah? she’s not my girlfriend.” he says, intertwining your hands again.

jeon jungkook STOP PLAYING WITH MY FEELINGS

after two long hours, you finally arrived to the lake. you were growing tired so you ended up sleeping and resting your head against jungkook’s while your hands were still intertwined. (ugh just date already). “y/n, wake up we’re here.” chu says as she taps your should a couple of times. “thank you chu.” she smiles and heads down the bus. “jungkook, wake up we’re here.” you say as you shake his sleeping figure a little bit. “already? ugh but i liked our position.” he said while smirking. “uh. you’re weird. now get up the bus driver is only waiting for us.” you both grab your bags and apologize to the driver for waiting for the two of you to get your shit together.

“y/n, be roomies with me and areum.” jinah says as she interlocks her arm with your. jungkook noticed how uncomfortable you looked and he tried to come near you but jinah quickly pulled you away. when you got to your cabin, you stretched your arm because DAMN that girl’s grip was strong. “so y/n..me, areum, and a couple of the girls in our class are gonna try to have a little fun and look for the ghost at cabin 38. you in?” gGggHost?? 👁👄👁 you slightly tilted your head because who does she think she IS . “ehhh....i uhhhh. not really uh um a fan of ghosts haha.” you say as you scratch the back of your neck. “oh come on! it’ll be fun! plus we’ll be there with you.” she says with a big smile. you agreed because u ain’t no puss 😼 (peer pressure ��� poor y/n)

“yo kook. we heard the girls are gonna go look for that ghost. you down to scare them?” jackson says as he puts his arm around jungkook’s neck. “it’s 2am i’m TIRED.” he says removing his arm about to get into bed, but jackson yanks his arm. “nOpe you’re not lets go.”

“guys! uh.. where’d you go.” it was all fun and games until you couldn’t find the girls you went with. you should have never let go of areum’s arm. “guys??? where are you?? please...” this is it you thought. this is where it ends ︶👄︶ goodbye everyone. no but fr. your vision was starting to get blurry from the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. “gUys???please i’m...im scared.” you looked around you but everything was dark and all you heard were your shoes stepping on the dead leaves. ( ahaha 😼)

you were about to just run wherever but you ain’t no dumb bitch 😼. you reached for your phone in your pocket and texted jungkook.

being scared was an understatement. at this point you were about to pee yourself, but you heard a voice call your name. “y/n?? where are you?” you recognized the voice and immediately yelled for him. “kook!! i’m here.” he followed the sound of your voice and finally got to you. you were relieved so you hugged him as tight as you possibly could. “thank you.” you said in between your sniffles. you hated that. you hated being alone ESPECIALLY in the dark. “why are you here alone huh?” he says as he looks into your eyes. “because jinah.” you say putting your head against his chest again. “fuck.” he mutters. you finally let go and he takes of his jacket putting it on you. “i already have one on though.” you laugh at his soft action towards you. “no i don’t care. lets go.” he says wrapping his arm around you.

you were nice so when you got to your cabin you didn’t slap jinah since she was sleeping. you decided to wait until she woke up the next day.

“jinah.” you walk up behind her as she’s fixing her hair. “yes y/n.” she says with a smirk. “why did you leave me last night? i trusted you! i could’ve gotten hurt! i thought we were cool.” she rolls her eyes and slams her brush down on the counter. “we were never cool y/n. jungkook liked me! but then you came along and ruined what we had!” she yelled at your face but you moved back. weren’t you the one who was supposed to be mad??? (oh have the turns have tabled 😡)

“what are you talking about? jungkook said he felt nothing towards you?” you were confused because jungkook made it pretty clear that he wasn’t interested in anybody else. (unless he was 😳) “ask him yourself.” she scoffs before pushing by you.

you were canoeing with jungkook who you DIDNT want to be partners with since he was probably just playing with your feelings. “y/n why aren’t you talking to me?” you continue paddling, ignoring him and not making eye contact. “jungkook, row the right way!” you yell because he was cLEARLY doing this to get your attention. “jungkook!” yOU YELP as you both fall into the water. “uGh iCANT SWIM.” you grabbed onto the canoe but your hands just kept slipping. the other students watched and tried to help you but y’all were just....struggling struggling. “uGh JUNGKOOK!! what’s wRONG WITH YOU!!!” you grab onto his back and he swims to your teacher’s canoe. he lifts you up and then himself. “i hate you so much.” you say as u roll ur eyes at him.

“y/n! please just talk to me!” you speed walk towards your cabin, footsteps squeaking every time you took a step. “what?!” you say finally turning around. “what did i do?” he was actually really confused he thought you liked him. “stop playing with my feelings! if you like jinah then go be with her! you make it seem as if you like me back but you just... UGH.” you glare at him and turn back around to get dried up in your cabin.

today you were FINALLY going home. you placed your bags under the bus and quickly got inside so that you got the window seat. you sat down and jungkook sat right next to you. “move.” you say looking out the window. “no. not until you forgive me. i’m sorry okay? i never meant to upset you. what i did was really shitty. you deserve so much better. i don’t care if you don’t want anything to do with me but i just want you to know that i...i like you.” he confessed. your eyes widen and you turn towards him. “i like you too jungkook...but we shouldn’t rush. i’m not sure what i want yet.” he nods and scoots over closer to you.

TAGS: @taeissoadorable @c-cr @littlewolfieposts @aestheticsluut @complicatedjules @ayasanuwu @lil-bai-of-sunshine @my-suga-kookies @rockerchic93 @t-toodumbtocare @withlovestudyblr @seabasschino @dru-shadow @letmebeyour-sun @ladyartemesia @squidyelmosquidbutt @supersoldierfreak @anna-in-purple @bangtansleftnut @jungshookmeup @mangoisawesome @ayoo-bangtan @cypheruby @yuusilverscar @spookidema @depressed-dude20 @fandomstogetherweunite @brattykpoc @tallsunflower @nochujjk97 @m0chilattae @nctssidehoe @bringitseijoh @richkookie @gaburen @saroonga @llovekoya @ladybeautiful18 @writersparaphrenalia @xxxanimangxxx @rjsmochii @just-call-me-trash-can @mystic-jungkook @competativekook @tae165 @rosita7703 @gyubots @xxxanimangxxx @na-na-nakita @doilooklikeinoe

[dalishious]

Tbh from strictly technical perspective dalish elves did appropriate vallaslin ... strictly technically. They had no idea what it was for or why, only that it was elven (thanks Solas) so they took it. From wider standpoint of what happened, they were desperately trying to reclaim and rebuild their lost culture and this was the best they managed (and they did good job) and by the point of Dragon Age vallaslin is inherent to their culture. That's what one gets if they do not look at context.

Except you can’t appropriate from YOUR OWN PEOPLE.

Look, here’s my Indigenous perspective on this, which call me crazy, but I think is pretty damn valid…

These are examples of the Wabanaki Double-Curve:

Well at least a few Mi’kmaw examples; there are many variations and further uniqueness among the different Wabanaki peoples, but they all feature the same general look. They are sometimes called the Mi’kmaq Double Curve and Penobscot Double Curve, but in reality they were not just a design element from my people or the Penobscot, but among all the Wabanaki Confederacy.

They are frequently found on artwork and ceremonial clothes/regalia, and are known as a cultural identifier. Most notably among the Mi’kmaq is on our traditional peaked caps for women of high regard.

When beading and stitching, the designs implemented are not for ornamental sake. The designs, the colours, the materials all had meaning, and that is why these clothes were mostly for ceremonial purposes and not everyday wear. This is known and documented.

What is not known any longer is what the different traditional designs meant. There are solid theories for some of them. Certain variations found on canoe paddles probably have some connection to the water, where others have very floral elements and probably have connections to the earth.

But the unfortunate truth is, we will likely never find a solid, indisputable answer for what they all mean, because it was stolen from us. Not lost; lost implies it was simply accidentally forgotten, and not buried from colonization. But my people still use these designs today for the reason I said above: They act as cultural identifiers. They are insignia. They are special. And even if we do not have a full understanding of what our ancestors used them for, we know that there was a sacredness involved, and we keep what we can. They are still special to us, even if that now has different meaning than what it was before.

This is exactly what the Dalish did with the vallaslin. It’s still theirs, just with different meaning. They’re not taking from someone else. They’re reusing something from their own history.

Even if vallaslin was originally used as slave markings, it has become a reclaimed symbol. Yes, the Dalish were very wrong about the origin. But I don’t understand how you can fault them for that; it’s not like they chose to have their history and culture erased, leaving them to play guessing games at restoring whatever they possibly can to maintain some form of identity. Vallaslin has become a symbol of Dalish pride. And for Lavellan, possibly a form of protection against the constant erasure they face as Inquisitor.

To say that the Dalish “culturally appropriated” vallaslin is one of the most obtuse, pseudo-woke thing I’ve ever heard in this fandom.

EDIT: Yes this is okay to reblog? All my posts are okay to reblog unless for some reason said otherwise.

[asgardianthot]

Hunting Season (sambucky) - Part 4

Series Masterlist

A/N: ello :) I hope you’re all safe and sound, and I hope you’re surviving quarantine. Here’s an angsty update for you to enjoy! 

Words: 3329

Day 3.

The morning had prepared for the happy couple an hour of kayaking. Bucky got his tired ass to the lake with the least amount of motivation possible, for he had spent a sore night. The idea of Brock Rumlow spending the night in that house had his bones rattling. Sam, on his part, couldn’t blame him; Brock only stayed there when the two were an item, so the fact that he was tagging along indefinitely had ‘ill intentioned’ written all over it. Bucky’s theory was that Brock probably thought he was gonna crash the lunch party and win him over again, stay the night at their old bed instead of a small guest room downstairs.

On the bright side of matters, Sam and Bucky were still the only ones to have a hunting clue. The envelope that had fallen out of the Viktor Frankl book had a hand-written note, specifically placed there by Nana. It read as following: If you found this clue, congratulations, you have a brain. Frankl was more than just a man in search for meaning: he was a neurologist and a psychiatrist, as well as a philosopher. It’s not hard to guess why my husband was obsessed with him. Now find out more about the author and try to guess what else he and Theodore had in common. You’ll know where to look.

Those words meant absolutely nothing to Sam, but it made some sense to Bucky. All they had to do was research about the author of the book and find a connection, for now. The rest would be a problem for later.

Right now, meaning at that very exact moment, Sam’s problem was kayaking.

“Okay, so what now?” he asked Bucky, holding the paddles like they were going to hurt him.

The second the word ‘kayak’ had been brought up when discussing future activities, Sam knew he would make a fool out of himself, for it was something he had never done, while the rest of the guests had been practicing every summer since they bought the damn house. Still, he put on his swimsuit and showed up. For Bucky. They were the ones closest to the lakeside, as Bucky was still teaching Sam, meanwhile the other Barnes were already paddling away or messing around in circles, as they prepared for a race.

“Now, you kayak.” Bucky replied simply, which earned a death glance from Sam.

He was already having enough trouble adjusting to the new sport, which left him with little to no patience. Fortunately, Bucky pitied him and laughed as he moved to the front seat, agreeing to help.

“Okay, wait,” he grunted as he struggled to accommodate behind Sam, “let me help you.”

Sam felt the warm pressure of Bucky’s chest against his back without any type of warning, and flinched a little. He could feel the drops of water that hadn’t dried out in Bucky’s skin stick to his own, and it sent shivers down his spine. He decided to believe the shivers were caused by the startling feeling of water droplets.

“You’re holding it wrong.” James explained as he took the paddles from Sam’s hand.

Wilson rolled his eyes, “Of course I am.”

“Someone’s cranky.” Bucky remarked, “Didn’t sleep well?”

Sam thought hard about that one. As a matter of fact, he had woken up plenty of times during the night, only to find Bucky struggling to catch his own sleep next to him. The situation was weird as it was, so Sam pretended to miss it.

“You kick your feet a lot.” Sam lied.

“There’s always the divan.” Bucky reminded him.

“Will you shut up about the damn divan? No one should sleep in anything called like that.”

However, the ridiculous discussion came to an end when Bucky managed to get Sam to paddle correctly.

“That’s about the hang of it.” he congratulated him before turning his body and dropping it into the water.

The water barely reached his chest, so he stood there in waits for Sam who accomplished his goal of successfully kayaking away.

“Now come back to me.” Bucky instructed his apprentice, “Turn.”

Watching him swirl the canoe so concentrated, Bucky couldn’t help but find him slightly adorable. Perhaps it was because he hadn’t seen Sam learn something like that before, but it definitely was a good look on him. A smile creeped up his face, however, it didn’t last long. Soon enough, his ears picked up on a conversation behind him. He saw that uncle Milo was talking to Brock, and he only then figured they probably had been the entire time, which made him feel observed and, most of all, uncomfortable. Bucky was so distracted by the interaction that he almost didn’t see Sam returning to him, but he noticed right on time to stop the tip of the kayak before it hit him.

He shook it off by shooting a smile in Nana’s direction.

“Sure you don’t wanna hop in the water, Nana?” he messed with the woman who looked over everyone from her chair.

“I want another drink, sweetheart.” She messed with him back.

Bucky winked at her and returned his attention to the fake boyfriend, who seemed a lot more comfortable with the sport. They most likely wouldn’t win the race, but at least Sam wouldn’t feel bad for sucking at it.

“You know what?” Nana’s voice was loud and clear this time, which got everyone’s attention, “First one to get me a drink gets a clue."

The bold statement was followed by hesitant glances. Most of the family exchanged weird looks, none of them sure of how to proceed.

"Is she for real?" Bucky said, frowning.

Then, cousin Colin jumped to the water from where he was paddling, and started swimming towards land. Rebecca went second. Bucky and Sam were quick to notice how they were the ones closest to the lakeside, which didn’t make it seem like Nana was unbiased. If anything, it made the couple look like the favorites. Alas, Bucky and Sam climbed onto land fast, hearing people rush across the water behind them, until they heard a scream.

As they both turned towards the noise, they saw Rebecca slapping her hand around, swallowing water, and barely managing to yell the word ‘cramp’.

Bucky dove back on the water to save her. Literally. As Sam awaited kneeling on the shore, he couldn’t help but notice nobody else went to help. As usual, Bucky was Rebecca’s knight in shining armor.

"Rebecca, are you ok?" Winnifred barely asked above her usual tone to be heard.

The siblings were too busy trying to stay afloat –Bucky dragging her to land and Rebecca coughing her lungs out– to answer, so the mother insisted.

"Rebecca?"

Luckily, Sam cut in to get the unhelpful and mediocre concern away from the scene, "She- she's fine! We got this!" he assured the woman.

Once the siblings reached the wooden shore, Sam pulled Rebecca up by her arms while Bucky climbed up, panting. The young woman held her leg in pain.

Right on time, Brock approached them to save the day.

He extended his hand towards Rebecca, "Here, let me-"

"Get the fuck away from us!" James shot him an aggressive warning while placing a hand on Rebecca's back, not dignifying the man with eye contact.

Rumlow raised his hands in defense, "Just tryna’ help, Jamie."

The snap in Bucky’s brain might as well have been hearable. He was so done with the hovering figure he used to call his partner, everything in his head went red with fury. He looked up at him with such rage, Sam anticipated his outburst even before it happened.

"Shut up, Brock, shut up!” He yelled directly at him, microscopic bits of spit being thrown in Brock’s direction, and followed by a uncomfortable, still silence, which Bucky couldn’t stand either, “Are you deaf or are you a fucking idiot? I said leave!"

Rumlow accepted the offense and shook his head, putting on a disappointed façade.

"You're insane." He informed Bucky before turning on his heels.

As the man walked back inside the house, the spectators of the show remained silent. All that could be heard was Bucky’s heavy breathing, until Rebecca spoke.

"Way to go, brother." She whispered, which was only heard by Sam and Bucky.

Bucky’s expression revealed how shocked he was at his own courage to pull off such a stunt.

"That felt so good." He admitted, drawing a big proud smile on Sam’s face.

-

The outburst that morning, no matter how fulfilling, had taken a toll on Bucky. The rest of the day, it was all he could think about, and therefore, it naturally got the paranoid spinning wheel in his brain running at full speed. Cousin Colin, after the lake scene, was the only person insensitive enough to actually go through with Nana’s demand; the man had brought his grandmother a nice summer drink from the kitchen, which the lady received with a roll of her eyes. Unfortunately, she had promised the deliverer a clue, so she reluctantly kept her word and gave him the help in private.

It didn’t necessarily worry Bucky nor Sam, because the couple still felt they were winning so far. They had found the first clue by themselves, no help needed, so the best Colin could do was keep up with them before they got the advantage again.

No, what had them both worried was this cocktail gathering after dinner, right now. It was too early for anyone to be tired enough to go to bed, but it was late enough for people to start making bad decisions. That had been Bucky’s case. Drink after drink, worry after worry, the liquor had found its way into Bucky’s system long ago. In fact, he was sitting down, resigned to his sorrow, with a glass of champaign in hand.

He was wasted, and Sam could tell. While Bucky played around with the almost emptied glass, Sam’s chest felt heavy.

"He's watching." Bucky suddenly said, his enunciation already affected by the booze.

His eyes were fixated somewhere in the room, over Sam’s shoulder. The latter didn’t need to turn around to know who he meant.

"Don't pay attention to him." He shrugged it off.

"He used to do that,” Bucky, however, acted as if Sam hadn’t even spoken, “when he didn't approve of something."

"Hey.” Sam called, demanding his attention, “Hey, look at me. I'm here with you, okay? Not him."

As much as Bucky wanted to lean into those words, embrace the support and such, he knew it wasn’t truly real. Sam was there to help him out of pity, or so he thought. He used to love imagining having a boyfriend who would take away the pain, wipe away the tears caused by Brock. He used to like that image, but sometime in the horrible long-lasting relationship, he just didn’t think it possible. Anyone loving him after Brock? Anyone putting up with that baggage, with the lurking ex-boyfriend watching them at all times?

It simply wouldn’t happen. It’s why he wasn’t there with an actual boyfriend. It’s why he had to play-pretend with Sam. In his head, there was no place for anyone to love him. Not after he’d been chewed on by Rumlow and spat out a hundred times.

"But you're not.” Bucky sad dryly, almost insulting, “Not really. I'll never get the real thing."

Sam’s brain had a hard time with that one confession. Did Bucky mean that getting his friend to play fake boo was the closest he'd ever get to a boyfriend from now on? Or as he implying a world where Sam could have become the real deal? His confusion left him almost speechless.

"And why is that?" he managed to ask with a heavy heart.

Bucky was too quick in answering Sam’s doubts, "Cause I'm messed up. 'Cause of him."

That being declared, James stood up from the table, leaving his company sitting there by himself, rudely. Sam watched him get to the bar, which consisted of a few tables set up for drink service, attended by one of Nana’s kitchen employees. It did the trick in looking fancy enough for an improvised bar, and still, Bucky managed to look fairly pathetic, leaning on the table and ordering yet another hard liquor.

For the next half hour, Sam brought himself to chat and interact with the Barnes, but mostly, he was checking up on Bucky every other minute. Fortunately so, since it allowed him to spot Rumlow as he approached the drunk figure. Wilson excused himself and headed straight for the bar, and was noticed by the man who looked, as usual, like he was up to no good.

"Samuel, we were just talking about you." Brock greeted him cynically.

"Leave him alone." Sam said, not messing around.

Bucky’s eyes were fixated on his drink, avoiding exchanging gazes with his ex, no matter how hard Brock tried to catch his attention.

"I don't think anyone should leave him alone like this." Rumlow cocked a brow, giving off the most pedantic posture yet.

As much as Sam didn’t wish to sound just as condescending as the ex-boyfriend, he needed him to back off. So he stood his ground, planting himself in front of Bucky, and raised his chin.

"Oh, goodie, that's what I'm here for." He clarified with a taunting tone.

All of a sudden, Bucky decided to stand his ground as well. Unhappy with the exchange of words about his state, he got himself in front of Sam, stumbling a bit.

"I don't- don't need anyone to look after me." He managed to croak out, frowning.

After he delivered the words, he propped himself on the table unsteadily, causing Sam to gesture catching him, but Bucky seemed to be partially alright on his own. Brock, on his part, gave him a deeply disappointed look. Suddenly, Sam understood so much; the paternalistic vibe he gave off, like you’re nothing for yourself and are in desperate need of his aid. The way Rumlow judged people could get anyone to doubt themselves. Luckily, Sam wasn’t giving in.

Brock extended his hand to the more-than-tipsy man, "Come on." He said, more a demand than an offer.

The response was even more abrupt than that morning by the lake. In sight of his hand so near him, Bucky’s paranoia crippled through his bones, provoking a different kind of outburst.

"Don't touch me, you fucking maniac!" he yelled, taking a step back.

Sam’s skin crawled. During the tense silence that followed, he felt eyes staring at them three. Brock, however, didn’t seem nearly as shocked, but instead acted like this was just typical Bucky. He did seem embarrassed, though, being the victim of the scandal for the second time that day.

"Let's go." Sam pleaded, not daring to touch Bucky in a jumpy state like that.

That was Rebecca’s cue for approaching the lot, allured by the fuzz.

"What's going on?" she demanded an explanation in a low, but harsh tone.

"Nothing.” Rumlow spoke before anyone else got the change, “He's making a scene, as usual."

Rebecca shot him a threatening glance, to which he simply rolled his eyes and abandoned the bar area. Sam took his place in order to check up on Bucky’s face, and found his eyes beginning to water. He was frozen in place, eye sockets reddened by the drunkenness and lips caught between his teeth.

"James, get it together.” Rebecca whispered, “Everyone's staring."

Although Sam was expecting more comfort from the man’s sister, whom just so happened to be scolding him for no reason, he kept his quiet this time. The two sober characters dragged Bucky’s body to the nearest chair and forced him to sit down, which only attracted more attention towards him, but that way he could remain still and far from tumbling scandals.

"Get him some coffee before he embarrasses himself even more." Rebecca told Sam, sternly.

As she kneeled sat next to her brother in order to pretend normality, Sam just gave her a look of disbelief. He didn’t think she could act so heartlessly before.

"You're a real sweetheart, you know that?" he threw her a sarcasm dagger, refusing to move.

"Believe it or not, I'm helping him.” She spat, looking around frantically in hopes no one was judging them, “Coffee, Samuel, please."

Sam took one last good look at Bucky before obeying the very persuasive sister. The drunken mess was avoiding all sorts of eye contact, and was almost pouting like a child. Wilson didn’t have much else to do but get himself to the kitchen, although reluctantly. At that moment, he hated everything; every person and light were getting under his skin, and even the sound of glasses clinking together pissed him off. Right before he reached the kitchen, the sound turned muffled, abandoned far away, and there was a sense of peace. Silence. And breaking through that silence, there was a sharp voice.

“I’m telling you, this is our chance.” The voice echoed from inside the kitchen.

It was unmistakably Rumlow’s. Of fucking course. The man was a goddamn ghost lurking around every room of the massive house. Sam was determined on turning back, until he heard another voice responding.

“Give me a few days-“

“I don’t have days to give you.”

It sounded like an altercation that had just recently began, right before it could get too heated.

“Is your lawyer not your personal bitch this time?” the other man accused Brock, “You not screwing him, too?”

“You want the money, right?”

The inciting question was followed by a tense pause. Therefore, Sam seized his chance and walked into the kitchen, hopefully being able to pretend he hadn’t heard any of it. He recognized the other man as uncle Milo, when the two angry men straightened themselves too quickly, in an attempt to dismiss their previous altercation.

Sam gave them an uninterested glance, “Am I interrupting?” he asked nonchalantly.

“What can we do for you, Samuel?” uncle Milo raised his voice with false friendliness.

“I’m just gonna make some coffee.” He replied, waltzing towards the busier side of the kitchen, further away from them.

Before he could even get a hold of the coffee maker, Rumlow’s forceful interruption made Sam stop in his tracks.

“Nicole can take care of that for you, right darling?” he called for the maid in a patronizing tone, “She’ll even pour it for you and everything.”

Sam glanced at the woman who was still putting the dishes away when it definitely was the end of her shift. It wasn’t just about Rumlow’s treatment of the staff, it was everything, from the way he put Sam in an uncomfortable situation, to the smirk on his face while doing so.

“No thank you, I got it.” Sam told the working lady.

“Actually, she’s got it,” Brock insisted, this time much more taunting, “that’s her job.”

Sam found himself cornered, and resigned, although not without showing his discontent. He pinched the bridge of his nose and agreed tiredly.

“Fine, uh… Can you just take it up to James’ room when you get the chance?” He forced a smile in Nicole’s direction, whom nodded politely, “Thank you.”

When he was leaving to return to Bucky, Sam took a turn on his heels at the last minute. His blood still boiling, he gave the two plotting men a small but clearly exaggerated reverence.

“Goodnight, Mr. Barnes.” He let uncle Milo know his anger wasn’t directed towards him, then spoke directly to Rumlow, “Fuck you, Brock.”

“Classy.” The appellee complained.

“You’re right.” He lied, then turned to the maid one more time, “Nicole, my apologies for such rudeness. On behalf of Mr. Rumlow, of course. I guess money can’t buy decency.”

After addressing that last insult to the obnoxious man, Wilson headed back to the cocktail gathering in order to retrieve his drunk friend.

[my-one-true-l]

Micro fics of the Wammy boys saving their kids from danger? You're real good at the family portrayal! it feels realistic to each character.

Hello Dear Anon! So sorry for the late response! Thank you, that means a lot. 😊

CW: Mild references to Drowning, Animal attack, & Fire.

L

“Stay still Little One,” L gently gave the seemingly unreasonable command to his terrified child who was looking down the eyes of a beast that was twice the size of them.

Low warning growls emanated from the hound, head drooped between outturned legs as it positioned itself in the offensive.

L cautiously stepped forward, setting his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. The dog was not fond of the bigger opponent joining the fight.

“Listen to me closely and do exactly as I say. When I tell you to, I want you to step backwards very slowly and get behind me. Remember, be very careful and quiet. Do you understand?”

“Yes Daddy.” She whispered, the words more breath than voice.

L stared at the enraged animal, keeping eye contact with it as he softly instructed “Now.”

She dipped behind her father and clung to his shirt, pressing her tiny face against his back.

The minute she was safely behind him he dropped his eye contact with the beast, yielding to its angry snarls.

“You did very well. Now we’re going to step back together until we get to the gate. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.”

With methodical synchronization, L and his child back peddled slowly to the fence enclosure until they were on the other side, L slamming the gate shut as the dog charged at them.

He immediately squatted down and took her into a hug. “Are you alright?”

With tear-filled eyes, she buried her face into his t-shirt, “Yes, Daddy, I’m sorry. I just wanted my ball back.”

“It’s ok. Always come get me or your mother if you need help and please, don’t go near that dog again. ” He brushed her messy black hair out of her steel-blue eyes. “I can get you a new ball, but we can never get another you.”

Near

“Why did you think this was a good idea?” Near craned his neck upward towards the bending branch that his progeny clung to.

“I don’t know. Just did.” His voice tried to conceal a quiver of fear, his stomach lying flat against his self-inflicted perch.

“Well, be sure you don’t let go or you will fall and become injured.”

“How the hell do I get down?” although he was young and took after his mother, he had definitely inherited Near’s fondness for cursing.

“I can’t climb up to you. It will put undue pressure on the branches. You need to climb down on your own.”

He closed his eyes tightly and shook his head. “Nope, can’t do it. Too far down.”

“You can’t stay up there forever. I will talk you through it, one step at a time.” Near tried to soften his usual tone. “Sit up. See the branch directly beneath you? Step on that one as you hang on to the other branches. It’s just a ladder. You can do it.”

Slowly, he sat up and shakily reversed his way down the tree, becoming brave and jumping the last 4 feet of the way down. “We did it! You save me.”

Near ruffled his son’s hair and half smiled. “You rescued yourself. I just helped you learn how.”

Mello

“Kick, damn it, keep kicking.” Mello’s panicked cry echoed over the water. “You can do it. Don’t give up on me now!”

Paddling furiously, Mello rowed the stolen canoe towards his son, watching helplessly, terrified that the last images of his son would be his blonde hair as it bobbed up and down, his body knocking about in compliance to the waves.

“Da—“, His words caught in his throat as the water choked out the air he desperately tried to pull into his lungs.

“Don’t talk, I’m coming. Just hang on.” Mello, now only a few feet from his son, held out the paddle to him. “Grab it and I will pull you in.”

Struggling against the current, he did as his father said and Mello dragged him into the safe confines of the canoe.

Mello wrapped furious arms around him and squeezed before sitting back and taking his face in both his hands. “Are you ok?”

He nodded. “I didn’t mean it. I got caught up in the currents.”

Mello yelled as he hugged his boy again. “Don’t you ever go out that far again! Do you hear me?”

Matt

“Dad, you gotta get me down.” Matt’s daughter gripped the railing of the rickety old ladder as it swayed unsteadily in the wind.

Cupping two gloved hand around his mouth, Matt called out, “I thought I told you not to tag the freaking water tower?”

“Yup, and you can punish me as soon as you come get me.”

Matt laughed outright, not trying to hide his amusement from his only child. “I could leave you there. That could be your punishment.”

“That’s a crap thing to say! You know I’m afraid of heights!” She shrieked at the top of her lungs.

“Ok, Ok.” Matt reigned in his enjoyment as he stood directly under where his daughter, in her opinion, clung for dear life. “Just let go. I’ll catch you.”

Closing her eyes tightly, she let go of the rails and fell all of 8 feet into her father’s arms.

“Couldn’t get past the first section, could you?” He chuckled at her as he hugged her tightly to him.

She pouted at him and feigned a glare as she spit sarcasm at her hero.  “Guess I’m not as badass as you and uncle Mello were as a kids.”

Beyond Birthday

“Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!” Beyond ran towards the house, flames engulfing the wooden structure, diminishing beams and supports to charcoal and ash, red and gold heating the night sky out of obscurity.

“Daddy, help me!” The tiny voice was barely audible over the crackling blaze, a sound usually so soothing when one is staring into a fire.

This is payback, isn’t it? For planning to take out that arrogant bastard by setting myself…A sin I didn’t commit. Apparently I can be punished for even thinking something like that…

Fuck.

“Stay there baby, I’m coming!”

Another section of shingles caved to the floor below, but that wasn’t about to stop him. Flames licked the walls, peeling the paper into wispy embers that filled the air. He pulled his shirt collar over his mouth and nose, providing flimsy protection against the smoke as he made his way to the little form huddled in the corner. Picking them up, he tucked his jacket around them as he carried them safely outside.  

“I will never let anything bad happen to you. Ever.”

You will not pay for my sins.

******

🖤Big thank you to @anneapocalypse & @bartlebythescrivener for brainstorming this with me🖤

[slippinmickeys]

Fools In The Rain

Inspired by the prompt set forth on Twitter by @IngridDaS1013: “Mulder and Scully get caught in the rain on the way to Mulders apartment so they go up and Scully has to wear something of Mulder’s while her clothes dry…”

XxXxXxXxX

It had been a bit of a shitshow from the start, Scully thought, as they ran down the wet cobbles of Prince Street, dodging puddles and doing their best not to slip and fall.

What had started as a weekend work session at Mulder’s apartment had turned to pell mell running through a deluge when lunchtime rolled around and Mulder had nothing in his fridge or pantry but a jar of pickles and 3 month old milk.

Scully supposed she was partly to blame as well, having turned down Mulder’s offer to have pizza or Chinese delivered, and they headed out into Old Town without checking the weather.

They’d landed at the Majestic, which had a salad Scully had been craving for weeks, and midway through lunch, the sky had opened up and the heavens wept. And wept. And wept.

Their waiter suggested they stay as long as they needed to for the weather to clear, and, feeling bad for taking up a table on a busy Saturday, they both ordered a drink. And that’s how they found themselves, 3 Yuenglings and 2 rather large Sauvignon Blancs later, dashing through Old Town, and the 15 minute break in the rain they thought they had ended up being only about 5.

It was pissing rain, they were soaked to the skin, and as uncomfortable (and tipsy) as she was, Scully wasn’t about to soak the back seat of some pour cabbie’s ride when Mulder’s apartment was only another 3 blocks away.

When they were one block away, Scully had almost fallen twice, and at that point, Mulder took her hand and didn’t let go.

Hegel Place loomed ahead, and of course Mulder fumbled with his key, dropping it twice before they practically fell inside, finally out of the weather.

Scully looked at Mulder as they ambled toward the elevator bank. She hadn’t seen him this soaked since the hurricane thing with Arthur Dales down in Florida, and his hair plastered to his head, with little rivulets running down both cheeks reminded her of an otter. She thought of Mulder holding a rock with two hands trying to open a clam shell and she laughed out loud, the sound of her guffaw echoing down the hallway. Mulder shot her a look askance.

This was the last time, she promised herself, she was ever drinking in the middle of the day again.

XxXxXxXxX

Mulder was glad Scully thought this was funny, because an hour ago, he was pretty sure she’d wanted to kill him.

Not just for the fact that he had no food in his house when he’d invited her over, but he’d also forgotten the envelope of receipts in the office that they needed for their last two expense reports, which is why they were working on a Saturday in the first place. He’d been as chivalrous as he could while they were out, hoping to make up for it – picking up the tab at lunch and helping her over giant puddles at several intersections too deep and wide for her to jump over.

He suspected her mood had more to do with the ¾ bottle of Marlborough’s best she’d had after lunch than his own quiet acts of heroism, but he let her lighthearted laugh take some weight off of the day’s general mood.

He grabbed another look at her as they stepped off the elevator on the 4th floor, and he forgot about his own discomfort at the sight of her.

She’d dressed down, it being a weekend, and had been wearing an apple green fitted sweater and a pair of lightweight black slacks. Both were now clinging to her almost lewdly, plastered to her body like they didn’t want to let go. Her hair she’d pushed back with both hands and it was slicked back away from her face. He was reminded of the old Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issues he’d hoarded in college, and his mouth went dry despite the humidity.

“Mulder?” Scully said, looking at him quizzically.

It took him a moment to realize they were standing in front of his door. He shook himself and unlocked it.

XxXxXxXxX

The second they were inside, Mulder disappeared into his bedroom and was back a moment later, shirtless, toweling off his hair with one hand, while he held out a towel to Scully with the other.

It took her a moment to take the proffered linen, momentarily distracted by the sight of his bare chest.

At various times in their partnership, Scully had had the opportunity to see Mulder shirtless – generally while he was injured and under duress – and she’d seen him both sprinkled lightly with chest hair, and shaved bare. He was currently the latter, his skin smooth and slightly tanned, the definition of his rectus abdominis pointing like an arrow to the area of his anatomy she shouldn’t be thinking about but definitely was.

“Here,” he said, as she took the towel. “You can have the bedroom to change. Grab anything in the dresser to wear – if you put your wet things outside the door, I’ll run them down to the laundry and throw them right in the dryer.”

She ran her eyes over him again as she nodded and walked slowly back toward his bedroom, closing the door behind her and giving the towel a dubious sniff for freshness.

It smelled like Tide and Mulder, a heady combination that brought her to flashes of his clasping embrace, of evidentiary conversations in rental cars, in interview rooms -- his low brushing voice three inches too close. It was fresh breeze and moschate, and she pushed her nose into it and let herself have the briefest of moments.

Moving herself off his rug and onto the hardwood,  she peeled off her clinging clothes, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. She toweled off quickly and moved to his dresser, assessing her choices.

She dismissed dress shirts and slacks, passed by jeans that she’d practically swim in. Finally in the bottom drawer, she found what might work – a tatty pair of grey sweatpants with a drawstring and a faded Knicks T shirt.

She gave herself a quick look, realizing that all her clothes without exception were completely soaked through, and she’d have to sit in Mulder’s apartment for a good hour wearing his loungewear sans bra and panties.

She’d have driven home right then and there if she felt like she wouldn’t be driving slightly under the influence.

Gathering up her sopping clothes and holding them in front of her like a shield, she headed for the door.

XxXxXxXxX

Mulder was rifling through his desk drawers on a mission to find quarters when he heard the door to his bedroom snick open.

He turned toward her, and there she stood in an old pair of sweatpants and his Knicks shirt, dwarfed by their size, looking like a bird just emerged from an egg. She held her wet clothes out in front of her like a sacrifice proffered the gods.

“Never let it be said,” Mulder said, straightening, shoving the loose change he’d found into a pocket, “that no one looks good in sweatpants. You’ve proved the adage wrong.”

She gave him a small smile, and he leaned forward, taking the bundle of wet clothes from her.

The rain had stolen whatever makeup she’d been wearing and she was fresh-faced and nubile—her skin having the dewy collagen look of a Neutrogena commercial, and Mulder thought his best course of action was to get down to the building’s laundry room before he embarrassed himself.

He changed into jeans and a grey T shirt quickly and bounded out the door, careful not to look behind him.

Once in the laundry room he discovered that all it took was a rainy Saturday for the rest of his building to decide that it was laundry day -- all the dryers were currently being used. He threw the pile on top of one that had the least amount of time left on it and made his way back upstairs.

He opened the door to find Scully leaning over his desk almost suggestively, peering out the windows.

He cleared his throat and she straightened.

“There’s definitely going to be flooding by the river,” she said, looking at him over shoulder. “It’s still coming down out there.”

A few years ago there had been more precipitation than normal and the river-adjacent areas of Old Town had flooded – he and Scully had gotten close once and watched people with canoes and kayaks paddling down the street. He thought back on the memory fondly.

“The dryers are all in use down there,” he said to her as she turned and made her way to his couch. “It’ll probably be another—“

He cut himself off as she sat on his couch, tucking her feet under her. The loose T shirt pulled at her chest as she settled on the couch and her nipples were pert and erect, pushing against the fabric.

“It’ll be…?” Scully said, looking at him expectantly.

He cleared his throat and turned, looking for something he could busy himself with.

“Probably at least 30 minutes before I can get all the clothes in,” he said. “Would you like some coffee? I’m going to make some coffee.”

Scully declined and he beat a hasty retreat into his kitchen. How he was going to survive this day with his reputation and manhood intact, he didn’t know.

XxXxXxXxX

Scully pulled down the blanket that had been resting over the back of the couch the second he was gone and wrapped it around herself like a cocoon. As soon as she’d sat down she could feel her nipples pushing against the soft cool cotton of his T shirt, and while it felt divine – she couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat around in just loungewear (probably college) – she could feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

She was feeling a little drunk, and a little in love with her partner, and a little morose because there wasn’t a damn thing she could really do about it.

And Mulder was of course sashaying around in bare feet and jeans and a tight grey T shirt, with his damp hair and his delineate biceps and she wondered how many years past seven she would possibly be expected to not jump his bones.

It wasn’t fair.

He came into the room then carrying two steaming mugs. She lifted her eyebrows at him as he held one out to her.

“Tea,” he said, by way of explanation since she’d declined coffee.

She accepted with a small smile, but thunked her head into the back of the couch in defeat, still feeling petulant. He was even being thoughtful. Why the hell did he have to be thoughtful and sweet right now?

She took a small sip, careful not to burn her tongue and the heat of the brew sliding down her throat made her shiver.

Mulder noticed, his brows creasing in concern.

“You’re cold,” he said in a voice tinged with frustration, and Scully could tell just by looking at him that he thought he’d somehow let her down again.

“Here,” he said, moving toward her, opening up his arms and gesturing with one hand toward himself.

She was feeling buzzed and weak and sorry for herself, so she just stood and walked into his embrace, the blanket falling down behind her.

It’s so effortless, she thought, her arms tucking perfectly under his ribcage and around his waist, her head snuggling under his chin . It’s not fucking fair.

She breathed out a sigh and so did he, his warm breath wafting around her, smelling sweetly of the yeasty fug of beer and a warm, masculine scent of what was just indefinably him.

She wondered how long they could stay like this. How long until the phone would ring or the doorbell would chime or another monster would come to call.

She could feel her hair starting to soak a wet spot through his shirt, so she pulled her head back, turning up to him to apologize, and found him closer than she expected, his head bent down as if to tell her a secret.

Later, she would blame the wine (it wasn’t the wine), or her time of the month (it wasn’t that) or the lunar pull of Mercury in retrograde--anything to blame but her own weakness—but whatever it was, she found herself on tip toe, pushing her lips into the cushy softness of Mulder’s own, his breath sucked in in surprise.

There was a split second where he didn’t react, his body tense and unmoving and her belly dipped low, the rip of embarrassment of his not reciprocating about to tear through her, but then he did move, his lips suddenly pushing into hers urgently, his arms pulling her into him, locking like vices.

The tip of his tongue tentatively touching her lips was all it took for her to let go. She could feel something inside herself unclench and suddenly she was filled with an insouciant lightness and she smiled, she actually fucking smiled and let her own tongue dart out to meet his.

Fuck it, she thought.

XxXxXxXxXxX

It had to be her call. It always had to be hers, Mulder knew, and that she’d called it today of all days, in his cluttered, dusky apartment, her hair slicked back, pluvial and sleek, the tips of her breasts pushing toward him through his own worn T shirt was almost too much to take in. He felt like he was living out a good bad dream.

Scully hummed low in her throat when he plunged his tongue inside her mouth to taste her and the sound turned him animalistic. He reached down to grab her ass, grinding his hips into her and that move elicited a gnarl from her as well, so he continued on lifting, hoisting her up into the air. Her legs instinctively wrapped around him and he could not believe how perfectly she fit into his arms. It was like she was made for him. Strategically, specifically crafted for ultimate Fox Mulder compatibility. Breathless from the realization, he almost didn’t notice that she was yanking at the bottom of his shirt, and he leaned back, trying to catch her eye. Her eyes flicked to his and her tongue rested on her upper lip as she drew breath. He shuffled his feet a bit and backed her up against the wall outside his bedroom, her breath catching as he pressed her into it. “I like where your head’s at,” he said, gently nipping at the flesh of her neck, “but I don’t want to put you down.” “Shirt. Off.” Was all she managed to get out and he grinned into his ministrations. He pressed her further into the wall and brought up his knee, using it to hold her in place while he took his hands off of her and ripped his shirt up and over his head.

The next thing he knew, she was grinding herself into his leg, using the friction from the whole of her weight pressed into small square inches of his knee.

“Holy shit,” he whispered.

XxXxXxXxXxX

She shared the sentiment. Their pull toward each other had always seemed elemental, gravitational—an undeniable force more than a fleeting biological imperative. Had she known touching him this way would feel like this, she would have done it ages ago. It was electric. Anywhere his skin touched hers, it sent a frisson of awareness through her, of lust.  She remembered that gravity was the most powerful force in the universe. When she ground her hips into his knee again, he gave a strangled moan and hoisted her up, moving them through his bedroom doorway and into the room. He paused at the foot of the bed, his mouth on her neck and mumbled into her— “Do you… do you want this?” She almost laughed. His concern about her consent was touching –she also felt a nudging in the back of her mind – a pinging worry that they both might regret this later and she knew he was feeling the same—but the fact that he was asking while she was dry-humping his hips was a comedy unto itself. “Yes, Mulder, Jesus,” she answered, just as he sunk his teeth into the skin where her neck met her shoulder. He laved his tongue over the bite, an apology, and tipped her back onto the bed then, needing no further encouragement. Before she knew quite what was happening, his hand was under the waistband of the sweatpants and his fingers were curling into her sex. Her hips bucked up off the bed at the sensation. “Jesus, Scully, you’re so—“ she nodded at him, knowing the evidence of her arousal would not be hard to come by and she blew out a lusty breath, looking him in the eye. “I need you,” she said, “now .” He stood quickly and raked his jeans down over his hips, kicking them aside. She moved to do the same—wanting no barriers between them, but he held out a hand and stopped her. “No,” he said, “leave it on. Leave everything on.” He knelt back down on the bed, and reached a hand to cup her breast through the thin material of the T shirt, squeezing gently and rubbing his thumb over where her nipple was straining through. She wrapped her arms around him, her nails digging into the hot flesh of his back as he brought his mouth to her other breast and sucked on her through the shirt, his breath hot through the material, his tongue soaking it through. He moved then back up to kiss her and the wet spot he left on the shirt turned cold and she thought she might come just from the sensation. He kissed her soundly, thoroughly, and she could tell he was trying to draw the experience out, but she pushed into him and turned the kiss ruttish, reaching down to grab him, stroking him while trying to draw him to where she most wanted him, not wanting to wait, not able to.

She felt him reach down and pull the waistband of the sweats down, just enough. He positioned himself at her entrance and canted his face back just enough to catch her eye before easing into her.

She returned his look, unblinking, and his top teeth bit into his bottom lip as pushed himself the rest of the way into her, pausing at her apex, filling her right up to her soul.

Love. She’d felt it for him for years, but couldn’t say it. How could she put a word to something so much bigger and stronger than herself? How could mere words contain it? Four letters. Seven years. Miles and miles of feeling inside of them.

Other people felt love, but they didn’t feel this. It was too big, too consuming, too frightening. If other people felt love, she was sure, it was merely in the prinprick light of a star — what they had filled the whole of the sky.

She felt tears forming in her eyes, so she shut them tight and nudged him with her hips. He took the hint and started moving, slow at first, but quicker as she dug her fingers into his back and pulled her knees up to his shoulders. The new angle had him hitting her perfectly and she could feel the slow tingle of orgasm starting to build.

She could tell by his breathing that he was close too, and she pulled him tightly to her, his head tucking into the curve of her neck, the wet slap of their coupling the only sound in the room save their urgent breaths, syncing together as they seemed to do with everything else.

And then she was there, her orgasm starting with a rush from her toes that flashed up through her body like quicksilver, pulsing at her center in a rush. That was all it took for Mulder to come undone as well, and he groaned once and clasped her to him, and they rode out his climax together.

XxXxXxXxXxX

He kept his head tucked into her shoulder, but reached up as their breathing slowed, running his fingers gently down her cheek and into her still damp hair.

“That was...” Mulder mumbled into her shoulder, not knowing how to finish, “I feel like we should high five.”

He finally tilted back to look at her, and caught her wearing an impish grin, her cheeks flushed and rosy.

He felt something dip heavily in his heart and he turned serious.

“I can’t go back to the way we were,” he said, “knowing what this is like, how this feels.”

“Do you think it’ll be too much?” She took his hand from her hair and held it to her cheek.

“I think it’ll never be enough.”

“I… I know what you mean.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

“Do you forgive me for forgetting the receipts?” He asked her after a few minutes of comfortable, reverential silence.

She blinked at him slowly and ran her fingertips lightly up his arm, goosebumps following her touch.

“Ask me again once my clothes are dry,” she said, and crooked a finger at him, all things forgiven.

XxXxXxXxXxX

The End