#this is technically set after Woke Up New but it's not necessary to read that one for context

[waitineedaname]

The silence in the backseat was so profound that they twisted around just to make sure they hadn’t driven off without Ed somehow. Ed was staring at them, a vein twitching in his forehead. “Greed?” he said. “Yeah? What, you didn’t expect to see me?” Greed smirked. “You’re back?” Ed all but screeched. Ling and Greed’s minds blanked at the same moment, and they came to a sudden realization in unison. If Lan Fan’s sudden inhale beside them was any indication, she had too. “No one told him,” she said. Oops.

Greed's back. Everyone forgot to inform Ed.

[bestfriend491]

Okoye and reader. Sorta continued from fainting ones

Reader and okoye are on a romantic date night, when readers ex girlfriend comes into the picture. Okoye knows it's her because of the way reader reacts, and our beautiful general goes into total protection mode?

Reality Check (Lies of Omission Prt.3)

A VALENTINE'S WEEK SPECIAL

Okoye x Female Reader

Summary: Months since she found out about everything, it is Valentine's Day and you decide to go out on a nice date day. Unfortunately, bad company seems to interrupt your night. Read Part 1 and Part 2 before reading this. Or don't. I'm not the boss of you. 😌

Angst and Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Brief Mentions of Past Abuse,

“Love recognizes no barriers, it jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination, full of hope.”- Maya Angelou

You woke up after barely a few hours of sleep, getting up and ready to put the final touches on the present you had for Okoye. It was your first (technically second) Valentine's Day together and you were beyond excited to spoil your love. 

You had the whole day planned, where you would pamper and spoil her to the highest degree. And she didn’t have to do anything. Okoye was vaguely aware of your plans since you had told her not to plan anything at all, but she was nowhere near aware of the true detail that you had put into planning the perfect day. 

You had silently been planning the day since the new year started, getting the reservations needed and asking around for people’s help when necessary. Now, people were sick of you bothering them for things specifically for this day, but it was finally here, and you were excited to allow Okoye to take a break from constantly working and just have a nice relaxed day off. 

She had training in the early morning, so she was gone. It was the one non-negotiable when it came to her not working, so you let her have it. It gave you an extra hour to yourself for the final details. 

You were completely prepared to make a fool out of yourself today, and you planned to have Okoye join you in the foolishness. 

You got into your planned clothing, and got your equipment to leave your house. 

As you entered the palace grounds, you got Aneka’s help in setting your first event up. Okoye was at the training grounds, with a group of new Dora Milaje. 

Just as you had anticipated, her back was turned away from you. Aneka held a bouquet of flowers 5 times bigger than her head, while you handled the microphone and speaker that you were to use. 

Stopping in the middle of the outside field, you put your things down, and began to play your music. Even before you had increased the volume on it, Okoye had turned, recognising your favourite song from anywhere. She stood, smiling at you as the intro played away. 

Then, you started to hum, an indication that you were about to sing. Her eyes grew wide as the rest of the Dora Milaje, and a few other people from inside came out to see what the noise was about. You grew a bit more nervous seeing the turnout, but seeing as the elders were yet to arrive, you had no reason to remain respectable. 

“I just wanted to dedicate this song to my one love.” you said, in a deep voice. 

It was right before you belted out the love song that you constantly played at home, singing like a performer at a full stadium on a Wakandan Public Holiday. 

Whether you could carry a note was irrelevant at the time, although you thought you had a decent enough voice. 

As the chorus came along, you put your hand out to Okoye, who was being cheered out by your audience. She walked to you, taking your extended hand as you got into the second verse. 

With her close to you, you could see her face completely flushed with shock. You knew for a fact that internally, she was blushing, even if she would later use her melanated skin to deny it. 

You got a bit slower during the second verse, singing your own version of the song. Changing the lyrics to ones that you knew Okoye would love. 

Halfway through the verse, even she forgot that you had company around, letting you finish the song with her in your embrace. She loved when you expressed your extra loving side. Even when you were making a fool of yourself. She didn’t hold the same belief that your voice was the best, but that didn’t matter. As long as you were the one singing to her, she didn’t care how many notes you missed. 

As the song came to a close, your eyes were both closed. She whispered in your ear as she opened her eyes. “We’ll work on that high note.” you gasped dramatically as she laughed at her words. 

“ I just serenaded you in public. Give me some credit.” you smiled a toothy smile as she kissed you softly. 

As you untangled from your position. You got back to business, making Okoye stand in front of you as you held your mic to your lips again. 

“On this beautiful day, I just wanted to ask this amazing love of my life a question everyone.” 

Okoye's eyebrows raised in confusion. 

“Will you… go to breakfast with me and spend the day as my valentine?” you said. 

She chuckled, nodding her head. You put the mic down, taking the bouquet from Aneka and thanking her. Okoye gasped at the size of it, definitely questioning why that was the size you chose.

“You’re quite the valentine.” she complimented. 

“I’ll say. This is just the beginning, my love.”

By now, the crowd had dissipated, but you knew that a few videos were taken, so everyone would know about it at some point. 

You directed Okoye to a smaller dining area in the palace, where a private breakfast had been prepared. 

You sat down next to each other and ate, enjoying the casual conversation that came, as though you hadn’t just done what you had. 

“Is the whole day going to be like this?” She asked. 

“Like what? Romantic?” you got worried, because it was going to be filled with romance, and if she didn’t want that then the entire day would be terrible for her. 

“No. I know it’s going to be romantic. But. is it going to be as public as that?” She hesitated to say it, not wanting to ruin any one of your plans.

You shook your head in relief. “ No! That was the only thing. I had to start off big. Everything else will mostly just be the two of us.”

“Mostly?” 

“Yes, mostly. I couldn’t plan a great day without any sort of help.” 

She nodded, not being able to argue with logic. Her morning training stiffness had already faded in your presence. Having a nice breakfast with her was rare. She would usually obsess about you having fainted at night, or she was gone to the palace and you were busy with your own work. 

It was a rare moment where none of those worries were mentioned, mostly because you had banned her from asking if you were okay at any point in the day. You wanted just one day where she didn’t have to worry about you.

The two of you finished and got ready, while you handed Okoye the clothes she needed to change into. It was still training garments, but a lot less casual. 

She gave you eyes of question when you handed them to her but obliged and wore the clothes before taking your hand in hers and allowing you to lead the way. 

Thirty Minutes Later

“Where are we going, Y/n?” Okoye asked you as you continued to walk to your destination. When you told her that you would take a quick walk to your next planned date, she thought you meant that it was 5 minutes away. She didn’t realise that you actually planned to take an entire walk. 

“We’re almost there, Sthandwa. Not even 5 minutes away, I promise.” you responded. 

She sighed, not saying anything else. She really wanted to know if you were okay, having travelled by foot for many metres, but you had made her promise not to ask you anything about the way you felt physically for the whole day. 

She was a woman who kept to her word, but she hated every second of it. She knew that her concern could sometimes be overbearing and she knew that she needed to work on it, but she just wanted to make sure that you were okay. It had been many months since she had found out, but she still worried like the first time it had happened. 

She couldn’t help her protectiveness for you. Her love for you was just too strong for her to want to let anything happen to you. 

You could tell that she wanted to ask. She barely went that long without doing a check in with you, but you loved how she respected her promise to you.

As you slowed down, Okoye followed you, not having a clue where the two of you were. It was only when you were only a few metres away from your destination that Okoye was connecting the dots on what you had planned for your portion of the day. 

She stopped dead in her tracks, grabbing your arm to stop you while giving you a bewildered look. 

"Y/n. Why are we in front of Wakanda's most prestigious dance instructors' house?" She asked you, Watching you struggle to find a reasonable answer as you smiled mischievously.

"I booked a lesson for us. I thought it would be fun. We don't do these things that often." 

She let out a chuckle, "We both have 2 left feet. Why do you think we of all people should do this?" 

"Like I said, I thought, and still think that it will be fun." 

“Hmm.” She scoffed, letting you lead the way to the entrance. You gladly knocked on the door of the home, not having any fear after your singing. Not a single other plan for the day scared you now that you were done with that. 

You were excitedly greeted by S'Yata, Wakanda’s famed dance instructor. She specialised in choreographing wedding dancing, and she was well known for making the most sensual first dances for the marrying couples that hired her. 

Okoye again wanted to know why you were there if you had no plans to get married soon, and even if you did, she would never want to do a first dance choreographed by S’Yata at her wedding. They were known to be difficult to the average couple, but the two of you were not an average couple. Not when it came to dancing. One thing that the two of you desperately lacked was rhythm. Granted, it wasn;t as bad as Okoye made it in her head. You could dance a little. And she could move her body on command too. 

It was just the formal stuff that the two of you weren’t too good at. After a tragic wedding dance proved this point, the two of you had refrained from doing any form of wedding dances ever since.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” S’Yata said, welcoming you inside. You looked back at Okoye and gave her a not so reassuring lopsided smile.

1 hour later…

"Okoye you're too far away. Come closer." You instructed. The two of you had finally got the basics to the dance down, and you didn’t want to lose the flow.

"I'm as close as I'll allow myself to be in public, Y/n. This position already feels extremely indecent for others to see." Okoye said, looking at S’Yata as she said it.

You laughed, seeing what she was trying to imply by 'public'. To her defence, the two of you were more minimalistic in your public displays of affection. And you had promised to keep the rest of the day less public. But S’Yata was only one person, and you really wanted to get the dance right. 

The two of you were already chest to chest and leg to leg, so there wasn’t much room to spare. But Okoye needed to hug you closely as you slowly swayed. 

“Please. For your Valentine?” You asked, kissing her cheek sweetly. 

Instantly, she hugged you closely, and you swayed back and forth. 

“I love you.” you whispered. 

“I love you more.” she said. 

You stayed like that, even getting enough flow for S’Yata to just leave the two of you in her studio, allowing you to enjoy the moment.

“You’re going to like what we do next, Okoye. I promise. Just the two of us from here on out.” 

Okoye smiled at that, still winded from the dancing. You seemed to be in high spirits, and you hadn’t slowed down to even catch your breath.

When the quinjet arrived in the sky, and landed not too far from the two of you, She got excited once again. You walked her inside, and she saw how advanced the quinjet was. It was far more advanced than the ones that were used currently. 

“Shuri allowed me to use the new prototype for a few hours.” You explained. 

“How did you know about this before I did? I’m the General.”

“Being noisy comes with perks, Okoye.” you joked. 

The two of you sat in the pilot seats that were situated in front, wanting to see the view, but you kept the jet on autopilot like it had arrived, wanting to enjoy seeing wakanda from the sky without worrying about steering. 

The jet lifted into the air, and you spent an hour just staring out of the window, admiring your country. It was only when you noticed that Okoye had gotten strangely quiet, that you broke the silence.

“Say it.” you said, getting her to turn to you. 

She looked at you in confusion, “ Say what?”

“Ask me the golden question. I know you want to and that’s why you refuse to relax, Okoye. So just ask me this one time.” 

She smiled, “How are you feeling?” 

“Pretty good. I’m on the best date in the world, with the one woman that I love and she agreed to do this for me so I-”

“-Y/n,” She said, seeing what you were doing, “That is not what I meant.” 

You let out an exaggerated sigh, before finally getting serious. “I’m okay, Okoye. I haven’t felt dizzy or anything today. So I’d say that I feel very good.”

She eased up at that, but still there was a trace of tension in her face, and that was not the point of valentines day. 

“How are you feeling, darling?”

“I feel good.”

“Don’t lie to me.” you said. flat-toned.

“Okay. Honestly, I feel good about today. And about you. But, I worry that I’m overbearing and that might chase you away.” 

“You can’t chase me away. I’m here for the long run.” you reassured her, “But… you are overbearing.” 

“I love that you care enough to make sure that I’m okay. But I’m a grown woman, Okoye. I’m done with the lies and I always tell you when I don’t feel well, so there is no need to constantly try to protect me.” you had been getting frustrated with the constant worry that she carried around when you were together. And the worry that doubled when you were apart. 

“I’m sorry. I’m going to work on it. I promise I will, sthandwa sam.”

You got up from your seat, and went to sit with her. The chair was not big enough to fit two grown people, so you ended up just sitting on Okoye’s lap, kissing her head and wrapping your arms around her. 

“I promise I won’t leave, Okoye. I just want you to trust me when I say that I'm okay.”

You’d grown tremendously over the past months, and your ability to be honest with people had gotten better. You had slowly been telling more people about your fainting spells, being more accepting of your not so new reality. The people around you were always supporting you. 

They were there to catch you when you unexpectedly fainted, and the released stress from hiding had reduced the amount of spells you had in general. You no longer had to lie and say that you were okay when you weren’t. And it was all thanks to the woman that held you. 

You would never leave her, as long as you heart felt the way that it did. 

“I’m not leaving either.” Okoye whispered, before the two of you closed your eyes and fell asleep. 

By the time that you woke up, you were back on ground, and the evening sun had started fading into darkness. 

You had one thing left, a nice dinner. 

The two of you went home, and freshened up, getting dressed a lot more formally before leaving the house. 

You had made reservations at a new restaurant in the city. The place had just opened during the new year, and they had luckily had openings for the night when you called. 

You were directed to a table in the corner. A loveseat that you had paid extra for. Scoping the menus and choosing your meals before the server arrived. 

“Thank you for today. I really loved being your valentine.” Okoye complimented, and your lips involuntarily spread into a wide smile. One of the many that the day had brought. 

“Hi, can I please get the bill?” a voice came.

Your blood ran cold as the voice of your nightmares spoke. Your smile was immediately wiped clean and your body grew rigid. Flashbacks of your ex came rushing back and when you looked to the left and saw her, not in prison, your body instantly grew anxious. 

Okoye saw the change as soon as it happened, and when you didn’t reply to her calling you she got worried. 

“Y/n, what's wrong?” she took your hand in hers, massaging your palm to calm you down. 

“It’s her.” you let out, with no further explanation. Your breathing got shaky and your heart rate increased as you tried to take a breath.

Okoye wanted to ask who you were talking about, but seeing you she knew that there was only one person who could make you that anxious. 

She stood up slightly, and saw what you had, recognising her from your descriptions of her. She was tall and muscular but she wasn’t very intimidating. She only looked like a threat to the people that knew what she was capable of. 

Okoye’s blood started to boil, seeing the woman smile so happily. She ruined you for so long, and you were only just starting to land on your feet. If it were up to her she would rot in as a prisoner for the rest of her miserable life. 

“Okay, let’s go. I can cook dinner.” She said, already getting out of her chair to help you up. 

Your body cooperated without your mind's consent, as your mind was in a different world. Okoye politely told the waiters that you were leaving, and helped you take your shoes off to walk easier. 

As you walked out into the empty street, the voice came again. 

“Y/n. I guess we meet again.” 

You turned around to look at her, but Okoye stood firmly in front of you as she took stared daggers at Chedano, who had a proud smile smothered on her face.

“ I see you got protection now. Scared to be alone with your one true love.” 

“If I were you, I would tread lightly and think very carefully about the next thing you said.” Okoye said sharply, reaching for her spear as she secured your position behind her. You didn’t move, you body paralysed in place as you looked at the women who used to hurt and torture you. 

“You know, we never formally broke up, so whatever this it between you and the General is cheating ,Y/n” she sneered “We wouldn’t want to have to teach you a thing or two about loyalty, would we.” 

Okoye unleashed her spear, pointing it at the woman. 

“Threaten her one more time and see what happens Chedano. I have no problem taking you back to prison.” 

Chedano, backed away at the sight, and her smile faded at the word prison. 

Okoye approached her, pointing her spear right at her chest. 

“If I ever so much as catch a whiff of you being near her, or communicating with her. Prison will be the least of your worries.” Okoye said, jumping towards her abruptly and grazing her spear only slightly through her arm. Leaving a big gash. 

Chedano nodded, running away as blood dripped on the street. 

Immediately, Okoye turned to you and was by your side. 

“My love…” she said as you broke down in her arms, the tears flushing out.

“I’m sorry. Let’s go home.” she said, lifting you and wrapping your legs around her waist as you cried into her shirt while she walked you to your house. 

She kept comforting you as she walked, allowing you to let it out, your fear only increasing as the minutes went by. 

By the time you got home, you were in a full blown panic attack, your body in a full panic. 

She put you down on your bed, standing in front of you as she comforted you, helping you breathe through it. The night had settled in, and the darkness only brought more fear. 

You breathed with Okoye, holding her hands as your heart settled into a slower rhythm. 

“I think I'm gonna faint, Okoye.” you said, feeling it coming. 

“That’s okay. I’m here, Y/n. I’m he-” 

You passed out. 

Okoye laid you on the bed, placing you on your side and waiting. 

After a gruesome 10 minute wait, you started to open your eyes. You were calmer when you saw Okoye there. 

She kissed you head, going to get you water, while you sat up in your bed. 

“Thank you.” you said as she handed you the water. 

You drank it while focusing on remaining calm, like you had worked on. Okoye stayed with you, getting into bed with you and holding your hand. 

“I’m here. I love you."she whispered to you as your eyes slowly started to close. You nodded your head, defeated. 

“I love you so much. And you planned the best date I’ve ever had today. We don’t have to talk about what happened now, but I'm here. I will always be here to protect you, my love. You are my entire world, and I’m not going to let anyone hurt you ever again.” 

“Thank you.” you whispered again, but a tear rolled down your face. She wiped it away for you. 

“I love you. Thank you.” you said, and allowed yourself to hug her. 

”Healing is an art. It takes time, it takes practice. It takes love.” – Maza Dohta 

Author's Note: After a long wait, Part 3 is here. I loved writing this. It was sort of healing. This is of course my contribution to Valentine's Week, but I do think there were a few things that I wanted to say in terms of love. 

I want every person reading this to know that it is okay if you didn’t realise that your abuser was abusing you. There is no shame in taking a lot of time to fully recover from it either. Those types of things can take a lot from you. Many of us were never told that abusive behaviours were actually abusive. Being queer, it's even harder to navigate that world because we are so busy fighting the world to prove that we are valid and our love is valid, it leaves us more vulnerable to being unknowingly manipulated and hurt without us realising it.

You deserve the type of love that fights for you, not with you. 

Happy Valentine's Week, and I love you. 💙

[f1]

James Key parts ways with McLaren as team announce technical restructure

McLaren have parted ways with Technical Director James Key as part of a series of organisational changes that the team hope will give it a solid foundation for long-term success. Team Principal Andrea Stella took over from Andreas Seidl ahead of this season and has been evaluating the operation along with CEO Zak Brown as part of a project the team says began several months ago. READ MORE: ‘We were just very unlucky’ – Norris frustrated after McLaren team mate Piastri’s debris wrecks his Saudi Arabian Grand Prix It comes after a period of decline for McLaren, which has seen the team finish third in 2020, fourth in 2021 and fifth in 2022. After two races in 2023, they have yet to score a point. McLaren have decided to move away from a structure of having a single Technical Director, overseeing the whole operation, and replace it with a team of three specialised roles. Peter Prodromou – who has 32 years of experience in F1 – moves into the role of Technical Director, Aerodynamics, leading the whole aero function. David Sanchez will return to McLaren as Technical Director, Car Concept and Performance on January 1 2024 after a decade at Ferrari. Neil Houldey is promoted into the newly created role of Technical Director, Engineering and Design . The trio will report directly to Stella. McLaren are one of two teams yet to score points in 2023 Elsewhere, Giuseppe Pesce is promoted to Director, Aerodynamics & Chief of Staff and will be tasked with supporting the running of the aero department, reporting into Prodromou. Piers Thynne has been given an expanded role of Chief Operating Officer, supporting Stella closely with regards “innovating and elevating the standards at McLaren”. Stella said: “I’d like to thank James for his hard work and commitment during his time at McLaren and wish him well for the future. READ MORE: Norris bats away speculation over his F1 future as he denies McLaren are in ‘crisis’ “Looking ahead, I am determined and fully focused on leading McLaren back to the front of the field. Since taking on the Team Principal role I have been given the mandate to take a strategic approach to ensure the team is set on a long-term foundation, for us to build on over the years. “This new structure provides clarity and effectiveness within the team’s technical department and puts us in a strong position to maximise performance, including optimising the new infrastructure upgrades we have coming in 2023.” Brown added: “It’s important now that we ensure we have a solid foundation as the next phase of our journey. It has been clear to me for some time that our technical development has not moved at a quick enough pace to match our ambition of returning to the front of the grid. “I’m pleased that, having completed a full review with Andrea, we are now able to implement the restructure required to set the wheels in motion to turn this around,” added Brown. “These strategic changes ensure the long-term success of the team and are necessary to see McLaren get back to winning ways. “We have everything coming into place now with our people and infrastructure and alongside an exciting driver line-up, I’m determined to see McLaren get back to where we should be.” Sanchez said: “I’m excited to be returning to the team in Woking and look forward to working alongside Peter and Neil and the rest of the team to achieve our performance objectives. “McLaren has always had an extremely talented group of people and alongside the new infrastructure upgrades coming online this year, we have an exciting prospect ahead that I’m delighted to be a part of.” via Formula 1 News https://www.formula1.com

[drabbles-mc]

Soothing

Happy Lowman x F!Reader

Request from Anon: If I may request something with happy 😊 honestly wherever it takes you! I wouldn’t mind some angst as long as it’s a happy ending 🙏🏽🙏🏽 and if you can squeeze in #12 from the one liner list, I feel like it fits him. Thank you so much if you do!! Love your writings ♥️ (Prompt is from This Post btw)

Warnings: none! just Happy being a bit of a grump haha

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: My first Happy Lowman fic, my friends! Y’all been requesting some new people that I’ve never written for before and it’s been so fun, so thank you! Feedback is always appreciated, especially with characters that I’m not as used to writing. Hope you enjoy! xo

Mayans/SOA Taglist (Happy is technically Mayans and Sons so we’re just gonna run with it lol): @mayans-sauce @thesandbeneathmytoes @paintballkid711 @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @queenbeered @sillygoose6969 @sesamepancakes @yourwonkywriter @chibsytelford @gemini0410 @multiyfandomgirl40 @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @garbinge @themoonandthewicked @bucky-iss-bae​ @encounterthepast​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @rosieposie0624​ @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​ @mijop​ @xladymacbethx​ @blessedboo​ @holl2712​ @lakamaa12​ @adela-topaz-caelon @i-just-read-stuff

You heard the door slam from the other side of the house. You let out a deep sigh as you glanced at your bedroom doorway from under your covers. As soon as he woke up this morning, you had the feeling that he was going to be in for a rough day. It wasn’t anything specific that he had said or done, but you could feel it in the way that he moved around the house as he got ready.

It had been radio silence from him all day. That in and of itself wasn’t particularly unusual. Happy had never been one to make small talk or drag out a conversation that wasn’t necessary. But the fact that he hadn’t reached out even to check and see if you needed him to grab anything on his way home was what really let you know that today hadn’t been a good one for him.

You set your laptop off to the side and slowly climbed out of bed. You hardly made it to the doorway before you came face to face with Happy, who had the same neutrally angry expression on his face that he always did. You reached out and ran your hands lightly up and down his arms, trying to gauge what he needed.

“Rough day?” you asked, despite knowing the answer.

“Yea,” his voice was gruff, his response short, but he wasn’t pulling away from your touch.

You let your hands drop so that they could entwine with his, “Why don’t you go shower off the day and I’ll take care of dinner,” you gave his hands a light squeeze, “Sound alright?”

He nodded but didn’t say anything else as he untangled his hands from yours. You stood to the side as he grabbed a towel and a fresh set of clothes to change into after his shower. Even in his moodiness, you couldn’t help but to love him.

As he walked by you he leaned down and pressed a quick, slightly rough kiss on the side of your head. He didn’t say anything, or look back at you as he walked out of the room. You had to shake your head and smile. Very rarely did he verbally say I love you but he always made sure that you knew.

You heard the shower start and made your way out to the kitchen to pull dinner together. He never said that you had to wait for him to get home, and on nights when he was going to be really late you wouldn’t. But you didn’t mind waiting an extra hour or two if it meant that the two of you got to eat together.

While you were serving everything onto your plate and Happy’s, you felt a pair of arms wrap tightly around your waist. You smiled, feeling the heat from his bare torso seep through the fabric of your shirt. He didn’t say anything as he watched you portion out the rest of dinner.

You turned in his arms so that you were facing him and rested your hands on his shoulders, “You wanna talk about it?”

“No,” he shook his head, eyes searching your face.

You smiled at him, “Wanna kiss about it?”

He cracked a small smile as he leaned in and kissed you on the lips. You slid your hands up so that they cupped either side of his face, and in response his hands squeezed tightly onto your hips.

You pulled away, tracing your thumb along his cheek, “C’mon, before the food gets cold.”

The two of you were sitting on opposite ends of your small couch as you ate. You’d thrown a random show on the television for background noise, but you knew that no matter what you put on Happy wasn’t going to be paying attention. You could see it in his eyes that he was miles away from your living room, still stuck wherever he had been earlier in the day.

When the two of you had finished dinner, he silently stood up and brought your dishes over to the sink. You turned to watch him, staring shamelessly at the ink that decorated his back and shoulders. He turned around and saw you watching him, tilting his head slightly to the side as if to ask if there was something that you wanted to say. You simply smiled and shook your head before turning around and bringing your attention back to the television. So much of your life with Happy was communicating silently. It was difficult at first, but the two of you had gotten pretty good at it as the days went by.

He sat down in the center of the couch, immediately pulling your legs so that they were draped over his lap. He drummed his fingers absentmindedly on your knees and shins and you fought the urge to smile at the slightly ticklish sensation. If he knew that it tickled you at all, you knew it would be weaponized against you at a later date.

“Hap?” you said after a few minutes of silence.

He looked over at you, his hands finally still, “Mm?”

You gestured for him to come closer to you, “Come lay with me.”

You saw the skepticism on his face but he did as you asked. Normally it was you curling up against him, not the other way around. He situated himself between your legs, head coming to rest on your chest. You let out a quiet hum of approval as you rested your hands on his back. You could tell that he didn’t want to admit that he was comfortable in his current position. After a few minutes, though, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled himself tighter to you.

While you were watching your show, you found yourself idly running your fingers along the top and back of his head. He let out what you could only describe as Happy’s version of a purr, and you had to bite back your laughter. It was the most comfortable and vulnerable that you’d ever seen him.

Suddenly, you felt his body tense against you. You stopped the movement of your hands and looked down at him, “You okay?”

“Are you…why are you petting me?” his tone was serious and it made the situation all the more hysterical to you.

You chuckled, lightly tapping your fingertips on the back of his head, “I’ve heard that it helps to soothe wild animals. Seems like it works.”

He let out one quiet chuckle but his face remained stoic. You could tell that he was trying to make it seem like he enjoyed it less than he really did.

“I can stop if you want?” you offered as you pulled your hands away from him.

“No,” he placed your hands back onto his head, “It’s nice.”

You chuckled and leaned down, kissing the edge of his forehead, “Love you, Hap.”

He settled back down against your chest, grunting in approval, “I know you do.”

[mutablerising]

This Was Home // [h.s.]

TLDR; In this dystopian world, Brinley sets off to get supplies for her sick mother and younger sister. She bumps into a snarky, arrogant man who saves her life and somehow this forces them into a bond that neither of them asked for and is purely for survival. At least that’s what they keep telling each other.

Tags and General Warnings: graphic depictions of scenes, slow burn, smut, angst, apocalyptic/dystopian AU

*Will update warnings list as needed*

INTRODUCTION:

I wish I could say I woke up gracefully, to the sound of birds chirping their morning songs. Perhaps I could have also woken up to the light breeze of air, tickling the ever-changing leaves in a soft song of their own. Maybe my first inhale of the new-day air could have been filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee with sweet maple undertones.

Unfortunately, this was not one of those mornings. I actually can’t remember the last time I ever experienced a morning so delicate and full of potential.

The reality of the situation is a lot less peaceful and a lot more desperate. You see, ten years ago could have given me a morning like that, but now it just feels like a far away dream. Instead of bedtime stories I originally got to grow up with, I hear the same stories my mom tells me regarding the dangers that lurk outside our home and into the city.

Not that it’s completely safe outside of city limits either, because trust me I hear plenty of those stories too. I vaguely remember bits and pieces of a few run-ins my family had to deal with to get where we are now. It’s just that the city is somewhere to never go if you can help it. Home is safe. Home is secure. Mom has made sure of it.

There are other rules that have been drilled into Alayna and I’s head. Whenever the government does their checkpoint drop-offs every 3 months, only mom is supposed to go. I have to stay back and watch after Alayna. She’s 12 now, so this is pretty much all she’s known. At times I think she’s braver than me because of it. Because she doesn’t have to think about what she’s missed out on or what she will continue to miss out on like I have.

These drop-offs are important because they contain necessary means of survival: food, water, gasoline, and medical supplies. When these government assisted drops first started, people went crazy. Mom gets really sensitive about these stories because of the things she saw. I still don’t even know the full gravity of what they were like.

It probably explains why she’s so hesitant to let me go to this month’s drop-off. That’s how I know she’s desperate; she’s getting weaker as each day passes.

This is also the first drop-off since a rather brutal winter. Technically it was a little over a week ago, but we got snowed in. We’re running out of pretty much everything because of that delay. I had to convince her repeatedly to let me go. She wanted us to eat her share of food for the time being so then maybe by then she’d be healthier and more able to go.

Except the food was already running thin and it was getting too risky. She’s still really reluctant, but it’s what we have to do. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous though.

But, today’s the day. So, wish me luck.

—

Read CH 1, 2, 3, 4, & 5 now uploaded [here]

*Uploads new chapter every 1-3 days*

[bump1nthen1ght]

Thicker than Water (Demon x Reader) Chapter 2

Pairing: Fem!Reader/Gender Fluid!Demon

Genre: High Fantasy

Warnings: Panic attacks, mentions of past trauma

Word Count: 3165 words

Summary: You spend a day with your new companion

Chapter 1

“How about this one? It looks rather ripe.”

No, Mistress. The air of decay lingers around it, I fear it will begin showing signs of mold within a day.

“Oh, good eye.” You set the orange down, making sure to hide it away so no other unlucky customer may buy it, wiping your hands on your skirt. “What about this one?”

That one’s fine.

“Sweet.” You say, adding it to the pile of fruit accumulating in your arm. You double check the list. “Alright, I think that’s about everything.” You come up to the stand-worker and set down your fruits on their scale, finagling for the wallet in your pocket.

So many different types of produce. Is this merchant’s estate really so large that they can grow all these things?

“Uh, not exactly.” You mutter, before reminding yourself to speak inwards, as only you can hear the demon lingering nearby. “They actually represent several farms, giving them a cut of the money so the workers can focus on cultivation. Some farms have their own stalls for specialized goods, but these bigger ones are typically conglomerates.” After successfully grabbing your coin purse, you hand the worker some coins and begin loading your bag.

Ah, how convenient.

“Yes, I’d say so.” You once again check your list, mentally checking off the needed groceries. “Okay, I believe that is all the essential stuff. How about we check out some novelty stalls? I hear there’s a fine jewelry maker near the center of town.”

The only jewelry in the Nine Hells is that forged by the damned. Carved out of the husk of dead dimensions.

“So, is that a yes?”

Yes please.

“Cool.”

As you walk along the thinning market crowd, dodging between bakers and families, your shadow twists and turns. Occasionally and discreetly, it will fall behind you and stare at a particularly interesting stall, before leaping back into the darkness and reattaching to your feet. The crowd is so focused on their eye-level, what to be bought, who to sell to, no one really notices the abnormality.

After that night, that horrible night, you woke up in your bed; Sweaty and exhausted, but nonetheless harmed. Your mother had rushed to your side with a pitcher of water, relieved that your fever had finally broken. You had been asleep for a whole 24 hours, your parents finding you in your bed after you didn’t come down to breakfast. Your temperature ran high and you had tossed and turned with some kind of night terror, but recovered rather quickly.

After you had shoo’d your mother away, accepting the large breakfast and assuring her you were fine, the demon had appeared from behind the door frame. You nearly threw a fork right at its face.

-----------

“So that was….It wasn’t just a nightmare?” You muttered, eyes lost in your bowl of cheese grits.

“Yes, my mistress, it was real.” The demon steps out from the shadow of the door, causing you to flinch as their long horns scrape against the low ceiling of your room. They take another step back. “Your body gave out after you spoke your demand. I do apologize for the intrusion, but I searched your mind to find your home and brought you back to your own bed. Was that a correct assumption?”

You nod, shakily stirring your spoon, absentminded. You force your eyes to meet the demon’s, trying to contain your quivers.

“And now-” You gulp, keeping what little composure you have left, “-are you here to collect?”

The demon quirks their head, horns audibly scratching the hardwood. Their brow furrows as they contemplate, before their eyes widen with understanding. They shake their head and take another step forward. You clench your fingers around the blanket, but hold your flinch.

“No, mistress. You are not in debt to me, not in any way. That is not the ritual which was performed.”

You quirk your eyebrows, befuddled. “But, I thought that-”

“The wish you made was not so heavy to require the payment of a soul. Nor would you have been able to make such a wish in the first place.” Without you realizing it, the demon had walked over to your bed. Their staggering height should be intimidating, but the intonation of their words and the look in their eye is calming. Almost reassuring. “The payment was made when you gave me this permanent physical form.” The demon explains, flexing their fingers and faintly tracing the lines of your bedpost. “By pushing your body to the brink of death, you were able to reach across the veil and pull me through . Usually, a soul-paying ritual brings a demon temporarily to the mortal realm, to enact the wish and then take their payment. The summoning spell you performed takes a much stronger mind and body; Not only to bounce back from death, but to carry a new weight with you.”

The demon slowly sets to its knees, laying it’s head down on your blanket. “In that way, I am indebted to you, my mistress, for taking such risks to bring me here.”

You blanch, words escaping you as this massive creature pledges fealty to you. When your vocabulary finally returns to your brain, you shake your hands furiously.

“T-thank you, for your kind words and your help. But you don't need to. I mean, I-I have no want to force you to stay with me. I didn’t even fully understand what I was doing-”

“That is not a requirement, mistress. And you are not forcing me to stay, I want to stay.”

The demon urges, picking its head back up from the quilt. “If it is your wish, however, I can stay in the shadows and not bother you, protect you from afar. I wouldn’t wish to interfere.”

You shake your head once more. “No! No, that won’t be necessary. That sounds even worse, to be honest.” You mutter, picking at the quilt squares with your fingers.

The silence lingers. The Demon, still looking at you in admiration. It’s irises glow even in the soft-morning light, their pupils a deep void amidst the unnatural yellow.

“Well, I am going to eat. Feel free to….look around.” You say, gesturing to your tiny bedroom. The demon nods, slowly retreating from your bedside to the corner, eyes darting around the wallpaper until eventually settling on your dresser and small vanity.

You eat, taking hesitant bites as you watch them wander towards your things, taking the time to observe your minimal decorations. You had a tiny book collection, some knick knacks you had gotten from town or your parent’s travels, and a myriad of plants on your window sill.

The demon hadn’t shown any ill intent, not in their actions nor in their tone, but you still weren’t sure. You had heard stories of tricksters, who lure you in with false promises and sweet lies.

If four young men could do it so easily, imagine what a demon could accomplish.

You shake their faces out of your heads, brushing off the imaginary fingertips clutched around your arms. It’s over; You are safe, in your bed. God knows what happened to them. You fight away that thought as well.

As you slowly finish your breakfast, the Demon is looking at the cover of one of your books. Technically it’s an encyclopedia, filled with all the different types of marine flora and fauna. Your mother had gotten it for your birthday three years ago.

“Umm...demon?”

They pause, setting down the book and looking at you.

“Yes, mistress?”

“I was just wondering, since you’re going to be here for the foreseeable future, what should I call you?” They’re brow furrows, head tilting like that of a befuddled pet.

“I had not really considered that, mistress. Is it important?”

You scratch the back of your neck, avoiding their piercing gaze. “Not particularly, I guess. It just feels a bit rude to acknowledge you only as ‘The Demon’.”

The Demon’s face scrunches up, still confused. “In the Nine Hells, I was referred to by my title, I do not see anything wrong with that. It is a correct statement to call me a demon.”

“Well, maybe. I guess up here, your own name is personal. Something that defines you, a part of yourself. Kind of like the way you look, or how you present yourself.” You say, mussing up your bed sheets in an effort to calm your nerves.

The demon pinches their face once more, eyes darting to the book laying upon the desk.

“Is Captain a military rank in this plane as well?” The say, claws tracing the engraved title of the encyclopedia. Sort of confused by the change of subject, you glance towards the book cover. Captain Amelia’s Guide to the Unknown of the Ocean.

“Yes, but it also describes the heads of ships. Those who sail across the seas, discovering new things or dealing in trade. Pretty sure the only requirement is a boat, not a military career.”

The Demon hums, eyes still locked on the cover, decorated by a painting of a large ship, locked in combat with a Kraken.

“Then I think I’d like to be called Captain.”

You nod, fingers still entangled in your bed sheets. Captain looks back to you, sending a calming smile. As calming as a creature with more canines than a wolf can be. Your own smile is shaky, still wary of what is to come.

--------

That was about a week and a half ago now, Captain staying by you as you rested. Your parents only allowed you to help around the house after 3 days of solid bed rest, most of which you spent reading, crocheting, or talking with Captain. When they went off to work, you gave Captain a tour of the house, showing them all the tools of the kitchen and the apothecary.

Their presence had quickly become commonplace, your body no longer jolting when you caught a glimpse of the dark figure in the corner. You two would chit-chat and entertain each other, but knew when to give the other space.

Captain also demonstrated their shape-shifting ability, although it was not as dramatic as you had read about in grimoires. Mostly it was a day-to-day tiny change, one you had learned to acknowledge and inquire how they would like to be referred to as. Captain had been a little bemused by the limitations of your pronouns, but was rather swift in adapting to a strategy which best suited them.

It was nice, if a little bit strange. Although you weren’t sure if the two of you could be considered friends just yet, if not for the short time or them being a Demon bound to you by a blood contract, but you were definitely closer than acquaintances. Comrades, ship mates? You still didn’t know. But as the domestic days dragged on, you find you’re not afraid to find out.

---------

What animal is this, Mistress?

“I believe it’s a seal? Or a sea lion, could never tell the difference, if I’m being honest.” You say, fingers brushing over the wooden charm hanging off the market shelf. It’s small, the details defining but rudimentary.

You have lions which live in the sea? How fiersome.

“Not actual lions, but I’m sure they could put up a good fight. Are there any oceans in the Nine Hells?”

No. Not ones made out of water anyway; Usually its blood or other excrement.

“...Oh.” You mutter, shoving that image out of your mind. Captain didn’t often talk about their home plane, only offering terrifying details that made sense of why they so desperately wanted to escape. As curious as the thought of another dimension was to you, you tried to avoid the topic all together. Captain didn’t seem to mind.

Looking at the small charm, with it’s adorable, puppy like face, you gesture towards the shopkeep.

“How much for this?”

“Only two silver, miss.”

You look down at your spare grocery change, sending a tiny glance to your shadow.

“Would you like this, Captain? We’ve got the coin for it.”

There’s a brief silence, your shadow staying uncannily still.

….For what purpose, Mistress?

You shrug, tapping the dangling charm and watching how it twirls. “No purpose. It’s just rather cute, and well…” You brush a finger over the woodwork, feeling the tiny indentations carved, “If you’re going to be staying with me, you should have some stuff of your own, right? Seems only fair.”

There’s another pause, long enough that you risk another glance at the shade. Even without any definitive form, it looks pensive.

Yes, I would like it, Mistress.

You nod, quickly passing the silver. From the corner of your eye, your shadow seems to perk up. As you pull away from the stall, you slyly drop the charm down and into the darkness, the demon leaping out a hand to catch it. From inside your mind, the warm feeling of contentment and excitement resonates like an undercurrent, bringing a smile to your face. You can picture Captain fiddling with the toy in their massive paws, eyes alight. Butterflies flutter to life in your stomach.

Thank you, Mistress. I would not have thought such a tiny thing would bring me such happiness.

You shake your head.

“It’s no problem. If you see anything you like, let me know.”

You’re jolted out of your mind when by a large splash, a woman squealing as mud clings to her skirt, and a young man scrambles to his feet.

“And stay in the mud, you low-life pig!”

“B-But Jezebel, I-I can explain!”

“Explain what, exactly?” A small crowd is beginning to form around the commotion, but you find yourself frozen to your spot, thoughts thrown all over the place.

Three women, all beautiful, stand in the small entryway of a house. At the bottom, now covered in mud, is Richard.

“That you’re cheating scum? That you don’t deserve our time?” The first woman shouts, gesturing to the two others. She’s making a scene and she knows it, reveling in her screaming and his embarrassment. “And I’m not Jezebel, you idiot! I’m Viola!” She nothing short of screeches, leaning down and hurling a chunk of dirt at Richard. The other women huff in agreement, looking at him with disgust and spitting at his feet.

A low murmur has fallen over the crowd, gossip thriving as the women stamp their heels and Viola huffs back into the house. The door is slammed shut, the focus of everyone’s eyesight on Richard.

He looks haggard, dark circles and greasy hair indicating he hasn’t slept, at least slept well, in the last few days. His clothes, usually refined and tucked in, were loose and nearly tearing. Amidst the chattering group of people, remnants of conversations linger into your ears.

“They made the right decision, shipping him off.”

“Honestly, it was about time. A cocky brat like that needs some discipline beaten into him. I’ve heard Ivy’s Military School is ranked top in the country.”

“God knows he will need it. The boy hasn’t had class since he learned how to speak.”

The belittlement, the desperate look in Richards eye, looking for sympathy, should enthrall you. That knot of satisfaction should burst, reaping the reward of your suffering, revel in his despair.

But everything about this pitiful man terrifies you.

You nearly drop your groceries, pushing away bodies as you flee the scene, barely finding time to breathe. Your shadow has trouble keeping up with you, bending between foot steps and keeping track of your shape as you dart away, away, away.

You find solace in a dark alleyway, but peace still escapes you. Your heart and brain pound with pure adrenaline, finding purchase on a nearby wall as black spots dot your vision.

All you can see are Richard’s dirt filled fingernails, dragging across your throat, pushing you down. His knee digs into your back as you kneel on wet ground, the cold metal of a knife pressed against your neck, dangerously close to your racing pulse point.

Your shadow shifts and grows, Captain’s shape stepping out of your large shadow, taking tentative steps towards your quivering form. Your knees soon give out, sending you to the ground, but they catch you just in time. You barely feel the contrast of soft fur compared  to rough concrete, curling up into a fetal position as you try to force the images from your mind.

Captain sinks down, claws petting your back. With a small voice, they instruct you calmly.

“In through the nose, out through the mouth. Just like that, mistress.”

The simple instructions give you something to focus on, something other than your fractured mind. You instinctively curl into their chest, their warm fur brushing against your cheek as you shove your face against them. Your eyes are clenched tight and you cling onto their shoulders, chest wracked with your heaving sighs. But the deep baritone of their whispers and affirmations slowly seep into your haze, pushing out the memories.

You continue to breathe in and out, Captain’s warm hands caressing your waist as they hum lightly. They tuck their chin above yours, their hot breathes blowing across your skull.

“It is alright, ____. You can do this, you are safe. I am here for you.” They mutter.

In minutes that feel like hours, your heart rate slows down, your mind loses it’s buzz. Captain hums an unfamiliar tune as they continue to cradle you, claws drawing shapes into your back while rocking your back and forth.

When you finally feel aware, present in the moment, you wipe away the tear tracks running down your face.

“Captain?” You whisper.

“Yes, Mistress?”

“Can we go home, please?”

They nod, standing with you still in your arms.

“Of course, my dear.”

-------------

You unload groceries automatically, muscles and spirit tired after your crying fit. Captain helps, making sure to stay in the periphery and out of sight of your parents.

You give an excuse to them, explaining that the heat got to you, and collapse onto your bed. Captain lingers in the corner, poised for a command.

“Captain?” You mutter, fingers twirling a thread tassel on one of your pillows. They look up from their position. “Thank you, for being there for me. Today and…..last time.”

They nod, taking small steps towards your bed. Once close enough, they lightly wrap one of their fingers around yours, petting your knuckles.

“Of course, ____. I will always be there for you.”

You nod, a small smile crawling its way across your lips. You slip your palm into theirs, feeling their calloused finger pads, pulling them slightly closer to your form. Your eyes dart up to theirs. With a small blush, you whisper,

“And I will always be there for you.” Captain’s eyes slightly widen, but a large grin appears, a hint of their fangs glinting from behind their black fur.

“Thank you, ____.”

[atths--twice]

A Medicated New Year

While on the run, Scully becomes ill as New Year's Eve approaches. Despite feeling terrible, she still wants to celebrate the holiday with Mulder.

I had not planned to write a New Year's story, but how can you ignore the muse when she stands in front of you and taps her foot impatiently, sending you ideas and waiting for you to write them down?

Hope you enjoy this bit of fluff.

December 31, 2002 Somewhere in Montana 11:15 p.m.

Mulder walked inside, shivering as he closed the door with his foot, his arms full of firewood. What had started as a simple task, for which he had not worn his coat, quickly became a “never do that again” moment. The snow had covered the stack of wood and while he had debated walking back to the house, he decided instead to push through.

Without a coat or gloves. Scully would be after him for that decision.

If she was awake, anyway.

Two weeks in the little cabin, two trips into the small town, and she had picked up a bug. Fever, cough, sore throat, body aches… she had it all. She had been in bed for two days, the medicine helping her sleep, the humidifier, he had driven to a larger town to find, running day and night.

Shivering again as he stacked the wood, the pile full enough for the next couple of days, he stood by the fire and warmed himself. The small television was on, showing Times Square and the people celebrating the quickly approaching new year, well for those not on the East Coast, knowing it had already come and gone in New York. He shook his head at the thought of freezing as he stood in such a large crowd, all to watch a giant ball drop.

But then, he smiled as he thought of New Year’s Eve in a hospital, watching the ball drop, bringing in the new millennium.

“Well, not exactly the millennium,” he said with a smile, glancing at the bedroom door, remembering Scully correctly stating that the new millennium did not officially start until 2001.

Shaking his head, he moved away from the fire, his body now warm and walked to the bedroom. Opening the door quietly, he heard her breathing, her mouth open, the blankets wrapped around her. Smiling again, he closed the door and went into the kitchen to make something to eat.

Deciding on toast and eggs, he scrambled them up quickly and ate them at the small two person table in the kitchen, reading the local paper. Getting up, he brought his dishes to the sink and turned on the water. Waiting for it to warm up, he placed a pot on the stove beside a can of chicken noodle soup for Scully if she were to wake up soon and want something to eat.

As he washed the dishes, he heard a cough and turned his head to see her standing behind him, the thick blanket wrapped around her. Hair messy, nose red, and mouth open to breathe better, she looked adorable, but he knew she would vehemently disagree if he said so out loud.

“What are you doing up?” he asked, rinsing his last dish and turning off the water. She coughed again and moaned.

He smiled and walked over to her, wrapping her in an embrace. She moaned again, her head on his chest. Even through the two shirts he wore, he could feel the heat she was emanating. Kissing the top of her head, he pulled back and looked at her.

“You’re hot.”

“Thank you,” she rasped, her eyes closed, mouth still open. Her breath was bad, but again he was smart enough to keep that comment to himself.

“You’re welcome,” he said with a chuckle. “Though that’s not what I meant.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and the heat was even greater. “I’m going to get the thermometer and the medicine. I’m sure you’re due for more.”

“Such a smooth talker,” she mumbled, her eyes opening slowly. She moaned again and sighed. He held his breath, her own truly awful.

“Come on. Let’s get you back to bed.” He started to guide her and she stopped him.

“No. I wanted to be here for the… the…” She gestured to the television and sighed again.

“The ball drop?”

“Hmm…” She nodded and closed her eyes again. “If that’s what it’s called.” He laughed softly and she whined with a cough.

“Okay, to the couch then. Come on.” He guided her over, helping her get situated before he went to get her some water, the medicines and the thermometer.

Bringing it all back to her, he put the thermometer into her mouth and opened the bottles of medicine. She kept her eyes closed as she waited for the temperature to register.

“One hundred… and two, almost three,” he said, taking it from her mouth and reading it. “That’s hot.”

“As you’ve already said,” she groaned, coughing and sighing deeply. He chuckled again and she opened her eyes. “I feel so terrible.”

“I know. Here take these.” He handed her some ibuprofen, and then some NyQuil. She took the pills and drank the liquid, making a face and reaching for the water he was ready to hand her.

“So disgusting,” she complained, shaking her head and taking another drink of water.

“How about this?” He held out a small candy cane and she smiled, taking it from him in exchange for her glass of water.

“I know. My breath is bad,” she said, opening the candy cane and putting it into her mouth.

“What? That’s not…” He shook his head and gave her what he hoped passed for an honest confused look.

“Mulder, I can taste it. I know it must smell just as bad.” She stared at him and he shrugged. “When you’re inevitably sick with this cold, I’ll be sure we still have a stock of candy canes on hand.”

“Good plan,” he said with a smile. She nodded and then groaned with a whine.

“Are you hungry? I could make you some soup…”

“No, just sit with me. Let’s bring in the new year together.” He nodded and picked up the stuff from the coffee table, grabbed a box of tissues, and joined her on the couch.

She laid down, wrapped in her blanket cocoon, her head on the pillow beside his leg. He ran his fingers through her hair as she sighed. Her head was so warm and he shook his head.

“How high of a temperature can you have before it would be necessary to go to the hospital?”

“Mulder, I’m fine, as long as the medicine is bringing it down. It’s just a cold.” She hummed as he scratched at her scalp and he smiled.

“I’m going to make sure to remind you of that.” She hummed again and they were both quiet, only the sounds of the television and the crackling fire filling the room.

“Have you ever wanted to go to Times Square...” She coughed and blew her nose with a tissue from the box he had placed on the floor. “For the holiday I mean? Not just in general.”

“Nah. I used to have a friend who lived close by there and every holiday he came back to his parents on the Vineyard to avoid the crowds of people.”

“Ohhh, poor guy forced to run to the Vineyard,” she scoffed with a groan. He laughed and nodded, moving his hand to her shoulder and rubbing her arm.

Quiet again, he thought she had fallen asleep, until he heard her crunching on the candy cane in her mouth. He smiled as she groaned loudly and sat up suddenly.

“God, I’m hot,” she said, unwrapping the blanket from around her and standing up unsteadily, kicking it off and laying back down.

“Better?”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, rubbing his shin and then tucking her hand under the pillow.

“You know, we don’t have to watch this. We could just go to bed.”

“Mmm,” she groaned in disagreement and he chuckled.

“Okay.”

“I mean, I ate that candy cane. In preparation for… for…” She yawned and coughed, moaning and whining.

“Come on, honey. Let’s go to bed.” He shut the television off and the room was lit mainly by the low burning fire.

“No… we only have ten minutes. I can…” She coughed, unable to stop until he helped her sit up and she worked at catching her breath. She looked at him, her expression miserable, and he smiled softly as he rubbed her back.“Fine, let’s go to bed.”

They stood up and he held her face in his hands, staring into her eyes.

“You feel cooler. That’s good.” She nodded and closed her eyes, holding onto his forearms. “It’s technically already the new year where we’re from, so…” She opened her eyes, glassy and medicated, and nodded again with a sigh.

“I’m tired.”

“I know. Happy early New Year.”

“Hmm. You too.”

He kissed her softly and she kissed him back, leaning into him heavily as they parted. He wrapped his arms around her and they swayed in place. She coughed and he smiled, putting an arm around her shoulders, he led her to the bedroom.

Coming back to the living room, he used the old ashes in the bucket from their last fire and put out the current one. He turned out the lights and picked up the blanket she discarded. Refilling her glass of water, he went back into the bedroom.

He set the glass on the bedside table, covered her with the blanket, and checked the humidifier. Refilling it, he got into bed beside her, and she snuggled closer, the hand on his chest clasping tightly to  a tissue. His watch beeped and he smiled.

“Yay, we made it,” she slurred and he held her tightly as he kissed the top of her head.

“We did. Now sleep, Scully.”

“Hmm,” she hummed and then coughed.

It was quiet as he rubbed her back and waited for her to fall asleep, hoping it would be soon so she could get some rest.

“The candy cane didn’t help much did it?” she mumbled, smacking her lips, and making disgusted noises. He laughed and nuzzled against her head.

“Not entirely.”

“Hmm,” she agreed, coughing and then blowing her nose. “Goodnight. Happy once more that the world didn’t end.”

“Me too,” he chuckled. “Sleep, honey.” She hummed again and was asleep within minutes.

When he woke up the next morning, his throat sore and body aching, she kissed his forehead and stumbled from the bed to get the medicine and a glass of water. Groaning as he took the medicine, they laid down and went back to sleep.

The new year was put on hold in that small cabin in Montana, as the humidifier hummed quietly in the corner, and heavy snow began to fall silently outside.

[sergeantsporks]

Swapped

Ch 4/5

Ao3

Or read under the cut

The year did not pass in a flash, even after he got a job at a little cafe. The year passed agonizingly slowly, with one dull moment after another, while in the meantime, Zoe came back with story after story of exciting goings-on at Hextech.

Well. Not every moment was dull. Sometimes the moments were painfully embarrassing as he would be called up to the board to attempt something he didn’t know how to do, or would be handed back yet another assignment with a ridiculous amount of red ink scrawled on it.

The teachers seemed to be catching on that he knew absolutely nothing, and had one of two reactions; one of them was to simply leave him alone and not embarrass him further, and the other was to attempt to help him learn by calling on him more often.

At least once the students accepted that he was dumb as dirt when it came to school, they liked him fine. A lot of them were incredibly confused about how he could possibly be so bad at school and then be socially competent. He tried to steer clear of them.

Douxie Casperan, please report to the counselor’s office.

Uh-oh. That did not sound good.

Aaaaand yep, the whispers started up, following him down to the counselor’s little room. Really, it wasn’t THAT hard to figure out why he was being called out. He sat down in a chair, his report card facing him with a line of F’s and D’s. Oh, and one A+ in history. He could do that, at least, having lived through most of it.

“Douxie,” the guidance counselor started.

“Yep, I know, I’m a horrendous student with horrendous grades, I need to take school seriously and apply myself. I know all that.”

“You’re a smart kid, Douxie. Your history grades prove that you can do well. And the teachers all say that you’re trying. It just seems like… you’re missing a lot of other information.”

Uh-oh. She was a little too smart. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you don’t seem to struggle in Calculus because you don’t understand calculus—it’s like you struggle because you never learned algebra, so the background isn’t there. It seems like no one ever taught you basic essay-writing skills, so you can’t write an essay, despite seeming to understand analyzing literature fairly well.”

Douxie nodded along as she spoke, but his attention was caught on something outside the window. Something very shiny, and glowing blue.

Trollhunter. The amulet. That bar girl had been right. And the trollhunter was… wandering around in broad daylight. A human?!

“Douxie?”

Douxie put his hands down on the desk. “You’re right, I never took algebra, also I’m nineteen so I don’t technically have to be here, bye!”

He ran out the door, grabbed his bag, and left school forever. He didn’t find the trollhunter, but that didn’t matter. No more calculus. No more counselors and school. The human trollhunter had arrived.

According to the instructions Merlin had left behind for his apprentice, that meant Merlin couldn’t be far behind.

Xxx

Douxie read Merlin’s instructions. Then he read them again. And one more time just to be sure. The old wizard hadn’t left behind anything specific. Only that there would be a human trollhunter, and he would be the one to wake Merlin. And that Douxie was to stay out of it. No handy dates, or a “meet up here!” note, besides a vague bunch of instructions about opening up a bookshop.

“Don’t stress too much over it,” Archie advised him, “He’s Merlin. He’ll contact us when he’s ready, I expect.”

“I don’t want—” Douxie bit down on his tongue. He couldn’t exactly tell Archie about his mission. “I don’t want to wait that long. What if he’s forgotten about us?”

“Merlin never forgets a detail. It’s his thing.”

“I know, I just…”

“Douxie. It’s okay. He’ll be here. Just… be patient.”

Douxie swept the pages of instructions off of the Hextech help counter. “I’ve been patient!” he shouted, “I’ve waited for nine-hundred years, and he can’t even bother to give me a place to check?!”

The door swung open, and Zoe took in the scene. “Oh, boy. Don’t tell me Mr. Arthurian legend is going to be here soon.”

“Well, the problem is,” Douxie growled, “I don’t know!”

Zoe delicately picked up the written instructions, scanning through them. “Right. Well, if you’re really so determined to wait around for this guy—”

“I am!”

“Then I suggest you open that bookstore he’s got set up. If he’s going to meet you anywhere, it’ll probably be there.” Zoe took his hand. “Douxie, can I talk to you? Alone?”

Douxie let her lead him outside, where she dropped his hand. “Why do you need Merlin?” she asked simply.

“What?”

“You heard me. Why do you need him? Why are you so determined to meet back up with this guy that abandoned you for nine-hundred years?”

“I—there’s still so much I don’t know about magic. And I’m not a master wizard yet, I—”

“Why do you need to be a master wizard? Why do you need Merlin? You’ve been doing just fine without him, or some master wizard title for so long! With just you, me, and Archie! What do you need some crusty old guy to tell you?!”

Well, being a master wizard had been the other Hisirdoux’s plan. But… why was he still holding onto some mission? One that he hadn’t needed to do for nine-hundred years? No. That kind of thinking was out of line. He needed to do this. For his parents, if he couldn’t do it for the pale lady. “I… I just need it.”

“But why?!” Zoe half-screamed, “What’s so important about it?!” She grabbed his hand again. “We don’t have to open the bookshop! We don’t know when or if Merlin will wake up! We can go anywhere, do anything—just like we did before you saw the human trollhunter! You can work here, at Hextech, the wizards here are so varied, you can learn whatever magic you want from them—some of them probably even know things that Merlin doesn’t! Just forget about Merlin and his instructions! How can you feel so attached to him still—you’ve spent nine-hundred years with Archie and I, isn’t that more real than any old apprenticeship that you haven’t been a part of for centuries?”

“I’m opening the bookshop,” Douxie growled, “I’m waiting for Merlin.”

Zoe threw her hands up in the air. “Fine! Fine, you open your bookshop, and wait for your stupid master! I’m staying here at Hextech!” She ran a hand through her bangs. “Gah, Douxie! I love you, but you need to learn to let go of some things, okay? Just… think about it. Give it a few days before you open up that bookshelf. Figure out what you really want, not what you wanted nine-hundred years ago and have been holding onto ever since.” She went back inside, the door slamming behind her.

What he really wanted.

He had a mission. A purpose. Right?

Well, what did he care what the Pale Lady wanted? She hadn’t been seen for centuries, just like Merlin. She’d just left behind cryptic instructions, just like Merlin.

But his parents—he couldn’t just abandon them. And if he was on the winning side of this war, if he kept on Gunmar’s side and delivered the information about Merlin’s plans—if he ever woke up—maybe, just maybe, he could make sure that Zoe and Archie wouldn’t get hurt. That there would be a place next to him for them.

Who was he kidding? They’d never agree to that. He couldn’t have a Gum-Gum victory and his new friends. There had to be something else—a way to get his parents back and protect Zoe and Archie and not lose their friendship.

He had to figure out a way.

In the meantime, he opened up the bookshop.

He kept monster hunting with Zoe and Archie.

He kept working at the café.

All the while, more and more of his skin was turning to stone, blue stone lines meeting pink flesh where Something Had Happened to Hisirdoux, but WHY?! So he kept covering up more and more skin, wearing long sleeves and pants even in the heat, much to Zoe and Archie’s amusement.

And he kept running through plans. But they always came down to choosing between his parents or Zoe and Archie. Volunteer enough information to get his parents out of the Darklands, Zoe and Archie hated him. But he couldn’t just leave them stuck there!

Then there was the problem of… well, explaining what he was. Could he ever tell Zoe and Archie the truth? If he rescued his parents, it would come out eventually, wouldn’t it? But he couldn’t just leave them stuck there!

He was set in autopilot, going through the motions of his day while his brain continuously raced to figure out the paradox of How to Not Lose Anyone.

And then he wandered right into a web of dark magic at work. He almost stopped dead in his tracks before forcing himself to continue walking and acting like nothing was wrong. The human trollhunter. Jim. He’d tried to get in closer a few weeks ago, shown up at the school, handed out flyers for the Battle of the Bands. Talked to Jim’s friends. He still wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong, but the trollhunter was glaring at him.

That magic, though. It wasn’t coming from the trollhunter. It was coming from… Claire. No surprise, she was the shadow magician, but… this felt… different.

And then a voice spoke in his head, slithering and cold.

Stay out of it.

Douxie blinked. Had he just-?

I am your queen, your creator, Morgana, Baba Yaga, the Pale Lady, and I am ordering you to not interfere. The girl is mine.

Douxie gulped. Right. This was happening. Okay. Fine.

Act as though nothing has happened. Your cover is necessary—Merlin may soon return.

Douxie steeled himself and took their orders—he wasn’t quite sure how to tell her, but Morgana wasn’t exactly… doing the best job fitting in. And the whole time, his mind spun and reeled. Had Morgana read his mind all along? Did she know everything he’d struggled with?

Well, don’t think about it now, he told himself, shaking his head.

Should Merlin return, Gunmar awaits in trollmarket. I will guide you to him, my special wizard. Soon, you will no longer have to pretend. You will be free to be yourself.

Morgana’s presence faded from his mind as Claire and Jim left, and Douxie shivered, rubbing his arms.

What if I’m not sure who “myself” is anymore?

[squeeneyart]

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 19

AO3

Beta reader is @thesnadger​!

Social interaction has its pros and cons.

Martin considers a way to pass the time.

Technically, there was no call that night.

Martin had had months to familiarize himself with the strange predawn that added a little color to the sky each morning. His home was on the western coast, so of course he didn’t see much of it until he’d made the trek uphill. With some cloud cover and dense fog, though, the light would scatter and cast a cold blanket of grey light over his corner of the world.

Early on he found it sort of nice, seeing the world ‘wake up’. He’d even started to get up earlier than necessary, just to make himself some tea and look out the window for signs of birds or other creatures who made their lives at dawn and dusk. There were some lines of poetry about it somewhere in his notebook, something about the magic of a quiet morning in solitude.

He’d lasted about a week with that. Turned out his life was already quiet and full enough of contemplative solitude, and warm blankets were much better than cold kitchen tile against his feet.

It was during this little sliver of morning when his mobile, vibrating against the wood of his bedside table, dragged him back to consciousness. 

“No…” he groaned, nuzzling into his pillow. It could only be one person. “Don’t make me come in early. Don’t make me come in early, you prick-” 

He reached over (god it was cold) and grabbed the offending object, keeping as much of himself under the blankets as possible and slipping the mobile back under with him. The screen was bright and painful in his cozy darkness. His eyes adjusted, and on his lockscreen the time read 4:06 a.m.

Before he could convince himself to let the damned thing ring itself out, he glanced at the caller ID. If anything it should’ve given him even more reason to let the call go, but Martin’s finger was already pressing the answer button. 

Attempting to whisper, his voice came out rough and croaky. “Jon?”

“Martin. Glad you’re still up,” Jon said in that distant way of someone paying attention to another task entirely. Keyboard clicks could be heard in the background. “How are you doing?”

Still up? Bleary and confused, Martin replied as if he’d just run into Jon at the store, “Fine, I guess? How are you?”

“I’ve successfully whittled down my assignments enough to have personal research opportunities.” There was a weary but nevertheless triumphant edge to his words. “If this is some sort of test of my abilities, I’d say I deserve a raise.”

“Impressive,” Martin yawned. “Does that mean anything for me, or…”

“No, not yet.” He could feel Jon deflate on the other end. “I’ve only just started looking, and Elias is still acting rather blasé about what we found. I hadn’t pegged him as the type to put business relations over the mission statement, but if that’s the case then-”

“Why send you out here?” 

“Precisely.” Jon clicked his tongue. “So I’m going to pry in that direction while digging through old reports. I assume the others will do the same once they’re caught up.”

Well, progress was as good as anything to wake up to. He reluctantly pulled the blankets from over his head and peeked out at his window. The frost was just visible at the edges, its frigid hands creeping across the glass. Perhaps a little while longer under the covers.

“Anyway, I’m glad I caught you,” Jon continued, filling the space Martin had left empty. The keyboard taps had ceased. “I’d decided to give you some breathing room, but you were quiet during the call with everyone and I thought- well, I wanted to make sure you were okay. As much as can be expected.” 

A small, halfhearted smile found its way onto Martin’s face. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“So… are you okay? I know you said you were, but it sounded like you were being polite.”

Martin looked up at his ceiling. “I mean I was being polite, but… Yeah, I’m okay. As much as can be expected, like you said, but okay.” 

“Hm.”

“Hm?”

“What? Nothing, it’s good. I’m gl- I’m happy that you’re… doing okay.” Midway between this thought, Jon seemed to switch the mobile from one ear to the other. “If you aren’t, I just hope you know that you can tell me if something is going on. Sometimes there are emotional aspects that contribute to an event-”

As Jon spoke at length, Martin noticed a distinct tumbling feel in the way Jon spoke, like his thoughts were coming faster than his mouth could follow. Not alcohol, surely? No, a different idea had been bothering Martin since Jon had first called.

“-can’t speak for Tim or Sasha about hours, and if you’d rather just talk one-on-one, I’m sure-”

“Right, hours. Jon, I don’t mean to pry, but have you slept at all?”

The stream of consciousness halted in its tracks. “What?”

“You seem a bit… out of it? Have you checked the time recently?”

A moment passed. Then another. Then- “That can’t be right.”

Weakly, Martin replied, “Good morning to you, too.”

“I-” Jon began. He then made a small, irritated noise. “I woke you up.”

Martin ran a hand over his face and pressed it to his upturned mouth. Into it he mumbled, “You really need to sleep.”

As if the hours had finally come crashing down upon him, Jon’s voice dropped low and soft and properly tired. “I could’ve sworn it was earlier.” 

“I mean, in a sense-” 

“You know what I mean.” A yawn finally broke through, but he fought it back down. “I hope it wasn’t too much earlier than your normal wake-up time?”

“Nah. You’ve seen how early my day starts. Besides, my alarm isn’t the most pleasant thing to wake up to, and you could’ve been Peter calling me in early.” It was like getting up to enjoy the morning, but he was still in bed and someone else was there (sort of). As far as he was concerned, the pros outweighed the cons. 

“Then I’ll hold my apology for a later date, if you don’t mind.” He spoke bluntly, but possibly in a way that was meant to be funny. Martin was still working out when Jon was being blunt in a rude way or in a friendly way, and his gut pushed him toward the latter. “I also won’t apologize for my work ethic. I work better at night, without distractions or other people.”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Martin asked, “Okay, I can play along with that, but when do you sleep?”

“We have a cot.”

Martin scoffed. “What, at work?” An image of the three researchers finding different corners in some dark back room to snooze on company time was almost too much.

“Working after-hours is implied in the description of any academic job. If we didn’t steal some of the day back to sleep, we’d all have dropped dead by now.” For a moment his voice strained as if he was stretching, dipping into the background before returning to normal. “Though this past week has been a bit more extreme due to circumstances. I’m not always up until dawn, calling people in a stupor.”

“First time for everything?” Martin said helpfully, pushing down weakly against the rising guilt. “I know it’s a bad situation, but I’m sorry you all have to work so hard.”

“No need for that. I can choose to sacrifice a few nights for something important.” 

Slowly, very slowly, Martin pressed his burning face into his pillow. Maybe it was too early for him after all, to handle anything approaching concern. The heat was surely enough to melt the ice right off the window. Ignoring the ridiculous reaction happening in his cheeks, he turned his face back upwards and mumbled, “Thanks.”

There was a small rustling of papers. With the same damned softness, Jon continued, “I’m sure Tim and Sasha would say the same.”

A quiet thing clung deep in Martin’s throat, and in his nose, and he imagined a version of himself from the night before, scared and powerless and ready to dump any and all his feelings on the first person who would speak with him. Would that have been something Jon was prepared for, if he’d called at a sensible hour? Or if Martin had called first? But it was nearly morning, and he was well rested, and eventually the thought fell away in his wakefulness. 

Without a response to go on, Jon said, "I’m not going to be as… outwardly optimistic as before, but…”

“You’re making progress,” Martin finished, coughing lightly. “I know. I’ll be patient, and careful. It’s hard after the weird stuff we did last week, though.”

“I’d like to say it was all due to extreme circumstances, but we are just like this.” 

“There go my hopes of you all getting proper rest when this is over.”

“S’not impossible, but terribly unlikely.”

Martin sighed, checking his screen clock again. Still some time left. “Is it safe to assume you won’t be sleeping at this point?” 

“Won’t be long until I can go to the archives. I’ll wait until then and avoid being groggy on public transit.” A pause. “Also my last energy drink is still working.”

“Mm.” Letting his forearm fall across his eyes, Martin gave up that particular battle. “Anything new set off your ‘fake’ alarms recently?”

“You’re in luck. Just yesterday a man came in to tell me about his experience with ‘spy birds’ that even you can’t devil’s-advocate your way through.”

“I’ll be the judge.”

It was a tough sell, even for Martin whose own situation made a lot of things seem possible. Midway through he even began to resent the person for wasting time better spent solving Martin’s problems, but that was an emotional rabbit hole for another time. By the end he had to concede that it was more of a conspiracy than a supernatural encounter, if they were going to get into the semantics of it. Still, Jon made it easy to be contrarian.

“When we’re not busy with all this,” Jon said, accepting that Martin wasn’t yet ready to forgo the benefit of the doubt, “I’ll be happy to sit outside and film birds all day for the sake of science, but the man finds perfectly normal birds unsettling.”

With a silly kind of bullheadedness, Martin replied, “Plenty of seabirds around here. Maybe that’s what I’ll do while I wait for something to happen.”

Jon snorted. “I expect a full report by Monday.”

Before Martin could respond, his phone made an all too familiar and dreadful noise. He really should’ve picked a song or something, he thought as he dismissed his alarm. “Well, it’s that time.”

“Yes, I should be getting along with my morning as well. Good luck with your birdwatching,” he said with joking scorn.

“Have fun sleeping on the bus.”

“Ha ha. Goodbye, Martin.”

“Bye.” 

Dropping his arm onto the bed, mobile in hand, Martin ignored the numbness in his fingers and considered how invested he was in writing a fake report about birds just to see the reaction it would get. Maybe he would text Tim about it.

The idea sat in the back of his mind as he got dressed, as he made breakfast, as he put on his shoes and coat and hat. When he opened the door to meet the cold that had settled in overnight, he couldn’t help but wince at the extra bit of sting the wind delivered, but he clung to his fanciful little idea all the way up the hills and through town. 

Creative writing had never been his strong suit. It was debatable if poetry was, but he’d reached a point where it was more of a comforting activity than a skill. Still, as he got to work in the blessedly empty lighthouse, he thought of the little notebook he’d stashed into his bag. If it all came to nothing, he could end up with scraps of text to rearrange into poetry someday.

It was a mess of a book. Technically bound, it was still cheap with some pages starting to come loose from his handling. He’d long ago given up on the idea of a nice looking notebook, especially as it had become personal enough to count as horribly embarrassing. It was inevitable for any poetry notebook of his to become more akin to a scattered, flowery journal of sorts, and this one was no different. 

It was also a step up from previous ones in that it wasn’t some spiral-bound school notebook he’d found in the discount section of the general store. No, he had found it in a bookstore discount section. The stiff cover even had sort of a nice texture before he’d beaten it up by shoving it into a drawer a million times.

The day crawled by with no interruptions, leaving Martin on edge. Peter hadn’t come by once. Perhaps he’d assumed Martin had had any boldness scared out of him, an aggravating thought. He had the will to act. He also had some amount of self preservation left in him, that was all.

By lunchtime he was itching to talk to anyone, but texting the others was off limits and it was so dreary outside that going out to eat was a non-starter. He supposed he could stop by the grocery store. He knew some of the people from when he’d worked there. Most of the ones he’d worked with had also left, but maybe…

No, that was a stupid idea. He wasn’t seeing anyone unless they came to him.

No one did.

So in his time off the clock, he stared at his little notebook and hoped his brain would think of anything to say.

--

The weather had taken a more miserable turn by the time he’d left work in the evening. He only saw a few birds struggling in the gales, none of them particularly watchful. If he had to guess, they didn’t care much about what anyone was doing. Not great material for a report, but maybe for a poem when the feeling hit.

The streets were largely empty as people avoided the high winds and mist that sprayed against Martin’s glasses, making it a challenge to see anything around him. He had half a mind to just stow them away, but there was going to be water in his eyes no matter what he chose to do. Just another little thing to make his day worse that he couldn’t change.

Part of him considered that the weather often matched his mood, but it wasn’t hard for bad weather to pair with sour thoughts. Nearly all weather was bad and nearly all moods were sour. Correlation, etcetera.

As much as he’d wanted to check his phone as soon as work was over, the others could wait until he’d stopped feeling so damned sorry for himself.

And he did feel awful, though there was no inciting incident. It had been a long, tedious day where the words wouldn’t flow, the world was grey, and any residual happiness from his conversation with Jon had been slowly eaten away by the loneliness of the present. Why was it so hard to hold onto those good things? A good start was supposed to make the day better, not make the rest of the day look worse.

It had to be everything at the lighthouse. He’d always been moody as a person, but the stress had to be getting to him. His head shouldn’t have been hurting from holding back tears when nothing had happened.

God, the squinting wasn’t helping, either. He knew where he was going, of course, but the streetlights were barely helping. The sky had decided to paint itself over everything, a dark, grey blob of water and concrete and fog. The walk down the hill was going to be a slippery pain, even in his grippy boots.

Had he passed by the florist? He probably should have by now, but the main road hadn’t ended yet.

And even when he got home, oh joy, it would be to sit at a table and eat with his mother, and based on her tastes she would love to stand outside in the misery of it all even though it would be terrible for her health. What was the point of trying when another person wouldn’t even listen-

He’d been walking for too long. 

The road continued on, no longer heading into the surrounding trees but stretching itself past the point of impossibility. And at the end, in a place where it should not have been visible through the colorless mist, was a large, familiar house.

Ah, Martin thought. Someone had decided to talk to him today.

Looking behind him, the lighthouse was just barely visible. Looking to either side was a fool’s errand, as everything had been consumed by the grey.

He slipped the mobile phone out of his pocket and bent over to shield it from the rain. The screen lit up at his touch, but as expected any and all communication was blocked. Nevertheless, he opened the group chat and began to type.

Martin: i think simon wants to talk. everything is fog and i cant go anywhere else. hoping my phone makes it out so this makes it 

He pressed send, then mustered up whatever hope he had and added:

Martin: talk to you soon

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Looks Like Someone Picked a Whole Bushel Of Oopsie Daisies

Chapter Eleven: Making the Most of a Weekend

I knowwwww I’m the worst author ever I’m sorry blah blah blah. But! This chapter is filthy so at least it’s a fun one, right? Also, the Airbnb they’re staying at can be viewed here. Now, onto the chapter!

You’ve been gone so long, I forgot what you feel like, but I’m not gonna think about that right now. I’m gonna keep getting underneath you, I’m gonna keep getting underneath you, and all our friends want us to fall in love.- Panic! at the Disco, The Good, the Bad, and the Dirty

Being separated from one’s soulmate was both emotionally and physically exhausting. It was also really, really depressing. It was just like, why bother? Why bother getting out of bed? Why bother going to school? What was the point? Dipper wouldn’t be there, and she wouldn’t get to see him again for awhile.

Whelp. At least her parents never monitored anything but her texts. She didn’t text Dipper, so, to their knowledge, she wasn’t in contact with him.

Not that they ever got a look at her phone, anyway. She was never home enough for them to see. The longest she’d spent at home at a time was one night. She never ate with her parents, and she still hadn’t spoken to them. She wasn’t planning on it, either. She didn’t have anything to say to them, and she certainly wasn’t interested in what they had to say.

Rolling over in Kristin’s bed (Kristin’s was the previous evening’s sleepover house of choice), Mabel grabbed her phone off the nightstand.

Dipper had messaged her. He usually did when he woke up.

Are you free this weekend?

It was a three day weekend starting the day after Valentine’s Day, which meant Mabel was feeling the separation hard, and therefore had a hot date with Ben & Jerry (both of whom were currently waiting eagerly for her in Kristin’s freezer). Okay, so it was more of a cold date, but, y’know. Semantics, right? Therapy was great, but eating several pints of Chocolate Therapy was cheaper and more fun.

So… technically she was free. But why was Dipper asking?

Yeah, why?

Okay, cool. Come to this address once you’re out of school. Go around back when you get there. Okay?

He typed out an address she didn’t recognize. It wasn’t too far from Kristin’s, but why would Dipper want her to go there? Regardless, she texted back a confused okay and left it at that. Sitting up in bed, she scratched her scalp lightly and looked over at Kristin, who was sleeping with her mouth wide open.

She poked her friend’s cheek. “Hey.”

Kristin stirred but didn’t wake. Naturally, Mabel poked her again, slightly harder. “Hey!” She raised her voice a bit that time.

“What?” Kristin grumbled blearily, blinking her eyes open. Her black hair was matted, and what had once been expertly applied eyeliner and mascara was giving her the usual racoon eyes. Not that Kristin minded, of course. Yesterday’s eyeliner can be made into today’s smokey eye, after all.

“Can you drive me somewhere after school?”

Kristin propped herself up on her arms and blinked up at Mabel. “Depends on where it is, I guess. Why, where you going?”

“I dunno, some-“ Mabel’s phone chimed, signaling another message from Dipper.

Oh, and bring enough stuff to last you through Sunday.

Mabel blinked and lifted her phone up to show Kristin the message. Kristin’s eyes narrowed against the brightness of the phone screen, then widened. She sat up abruptly, then snatched the phone from Mabel’s hand. She scrolled up a bit, reading their most recent messages, and handed Mabel’s phone back to her after a moment, a knowing smirk on her face.

“He’s taking you on a sex retreat,” Kristin said matter-of-factly.

“A- a what now?”

“A sex retreat,” her friend repeated. “Y’know, it’s a three day weekend right after Valentine’s Day so he’s whisking you away somewhere to fuck your brains out.”

“That is…” Mabel was going to say it was ridiculous, but then she thought about it for a moment. Dipper had a car. Neither of their Grunkles would take issue with him coming down to visit her; it was their parents that had an issue with them being soulmates. “A very real possibility, actually,” she finished.

“Oh, it’s totally what he’s doing. So, to answer your question,” Kristin got out of bed and walked towards her bathroom. “Yes, I will absolutely drive you to go on a sex retreat with your soulbro, no matter how far away it is.”

Checking Google Maps, Mabel said, “it’s fifteen minutes from school.”

Kristin grinned. “Badass! Pack up your shit, homegirl. I ain’t driving you back here before you go.” She glanced down at Mabel’s legs. “And maybe shave again before we head out. Don’t want any stubble the first time you see him after this long, right?”

Mabel blushed. “Right, guess not.”

Kristin patted her cheek with another smile. “Cheer up, buttercup. Today’s the day your va-jay-jay is back in business.”

Mabel grinned back. “Fingers crossed!”

“Exactly, now hit the showers!”

———————————————————————

When Mabel stepped out of Kristin’s car onto the sidewalk, she didn’t know what to make of the yellow Victorian house. She sent Dipper a quick here as she went around back, as he’d had told her to that morning, only to find a small rock garden in the backyard of the house, with a… a vardo? It sure looked like a vardo. The fanciest one she’d ever seen in her life. It was red and purple with a small porch, and it appeared to be quite long, too. There was a set of slender red double doors with round stained glass windows on either side, and the whole thing looked intricately carved and painted.

After a moment, the doors opened, and out stepped Dipper. He beamed at the sight of her, and she nearly dropped the duffel bag she had hoisted over her shoulder.

Scratch that, she actually did drop it, squealing and running over to him to jump into his arms. It was a bit difficult because the wagon-house-thingy was on top of a wooden platform that she had to almost trip over before reaching him, but in the span of a few seconds, she had her arms wrapped around him again and she buried her face in his neck, breathing in his scent.

Mabel stood there for several seconds, trying to melt into his skin. A warmth had flooded her veins at the sight of him. She’d forgotten what it felt like to have him close, what he smelled like. She’d just decided she needed an oxygen tank full of Dipper-smell when he spoke, his lips against her scalp.

“I missed you.”

Mabel pulled back enough to look at him. She hadn’t stopped smiling since she’d seen him, and it was kind of hurting her face, but she didn’t care. He was looking at her adoringly, and she giggled. She was just so freakin’ happy to see him. Mabel couldn’t remember the last time she’d been that happy.

No, wait, yes she could. The last time she’d been that happy was right before her parents stormed into the hotel room like ruining everything was a contest with a billion dollar prize.

Well, whatever. They could suck it. Mabel was too busy to care about her parents and whatever lame-ass contests they’d entered.

“I missed you, too,” she finally told him. “But what’re you doing here?” She glanced around a bit. “Actually, what am I doing here?”

He leaned down to kiss her forehead. “It’s an Airbnb,” he said, taking her hand and pulling away from her. “After a fair amount of begging and no small amount of guilt tripping, Grunkle Stan agreed to pay for a three day weekend stay for us.”

He pushed open the intricate red doors and stepped inside, pulling her along after him. She followed after him, her shoes sinking into a plush rug, and her mouth dropped open.

Directly inside the doorway, there was what appeared to be a kitchen, albeit a small one; the cabinets were white with light brown countertops, a hammered copper kitchen sink, two actual stained glass windows (like, it looked like there were actual separate panes of glass for each change in color and shape), and several additional copper kitchen stuff throughout the tiny kitchen. It was more of a hallway than anything else.

Mabel rushed past Dipper excitedly, eager to see what lay beyond the kitchen-slash-hallway, and squealed again. “Eeeeeeee this place is crazy!”

“I knew you’d like it,” he laughed. “I’m gonna go grab your bag, be right back.”

“Kay!” she called over her shoulder, eager to get acquainted with her new favorite place ever.

Okay, so maybe it was her new favorite place ever primarily due to Dipper’s presence, but it was also really flippin’ cool. Directly across the narrow hallway, there was a door that, when opened, led to a very cramped bathroom. Cramped it may be, but it was also hella fancy. The walls were made of tiles fashioned from dark reflective glass, there was a tiny white sink sticking out directly below a window with a mirror fastened to the wood of the window frame, with a stained glass window directly beside the regular one. There was a toilet that had another stained glass window above it, as well as a regular window directly beside it, this one with a gold-colored curtain hanging over it. The shower had a black curtain in front of it but, when pulled aside, it revealed another stained glass window (yes, three for one tiny bathroom). The shower head was a waterfall-type situation, but it also had one of those handheld ones, which she knew from personal experience would be easier to rinse out her hair with.

“You all good in here, Mabes?” Dipper called, and she heard the thunk of her bag being dropped.

Fingers crossed her toiletries hadn’t made a mess all over her clothes.

She stuck her head out of the bathroom and looked over at him as he shut the doors behind him. “Uh, dude, I’ve only seen the kitchen and the bathroom and I’m pretty sure this whole thing is amazeballs.”

He grinned and stepped over to her. “I’m glad you like it, but was it really necessary for you to pack bricks?” He rubbed the shoulder he’d hoisted her bag over.

“Don’t be such a baby, Dippin Dots,” she said with an exaggerated eye roll and sashayed away to inspect the rest of the wagon-thingy.

Just beyond the countertops of the kitchen, there was a tall set of shelves that went to the ceiling, containing various kitchen-y items, including a microwave (which, good, because Mabel was seventeen and leftovers were her BFFs), and directly across from the shelves there was a fridge, which was also good, because as a living creature, Mabel required sustenance in order to survive.

The hallway ended, opening up into a more spacious area with a table outcropping from the wall directly beyond the set of tall kitchen shelves with two nice-looking folding chairs. There was also a set of white cabinets that started at the height of the fridge and descended almost like stairs. Against the back wall was a large wrap-around couch, and the cushions were purple (which was awesome, obvi), and there were hanging potted plants and more windows, too, including two more stained glass ones, and if she looked up…

Holy cheese puffs, was that a chandelier? Upon closer inspection, it turned out that yes, it was most definitely a chandelier, and a mighty fancy one at that, by the looks of things.

“Hoooooookay, brosephina, this is a pretty snazzy location we have found ourselves in,” Mabel said.

“Well,” Dipper began as he stepped up behind her, “I figured you deserved something nice.” He wrapped his arms around her middle and nuzzled her hair.

“Errrrr. Okay then. No issues with that here, lemme tell ya.” Then a thought occurred to her. This was a very nice house-wagon-whatsit, don’t get her wrong, but if they were gonna be there through Sunday, where were they supposed to sleep? Or… do anything else? Would he even want to do anything else? Never mind that. “Soooooo where are we supposed to, like…” she trailed off.

“Bed’s in a loft,” he said into her hair, his arms tightening around her waist. “Up those stairs.” He pointed a finger at the cabinets she’d noted earlier. Huh. So they really were stairs, then.

“Right, so, um…”

Ugh. Why was she so damn nervous? It was irritating. This was her twin, her soulmate, her boyfriend! He had literally been inside her! She had no reason to be nervous!

She was, though, and she didn’t really know how to voice what she wanted.

Kiss me. Touch me. Get your dick inside me, like, freakin’ yesterday, dude.

“W- would you like to see it?” His voice was awkward, and he sounded almost as nervous as she felt. “The bed, I mean.”

Mabel nodded and he pulled away from her, blushing furiously, and she tried not to giggle. Dipper rolled his eyes. “Shut up, just c’mon.”

“I didn’t say anything!” she insisted as he grabbed her hand.

“I could hear you thinking,” he countered, leading her up the cabinets-slash-stairs.

She was still giggling through her nervousness when they reached the top of the stairs. The bed was a mattress directly on the floor with a striped comforter.

Hesitantly, Mabel sat on the bed. Dipper knelt down in front of her. He was looking at her lips when he took her hand again.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” His voice was soft, like he was afraid he’d scare her away or something.

Mabel remembered what Kristin had said about sex retreats and being whisked away to have her brains fucked out.

And then she remembered that no, Dipper could not, in fact, read her mind.

“Why would you think I don’t wanna do anything?” Had. Had he never encountered a mirror? Seventeen years of existence and the boy had never encountered a mirror. What were the chances? He shrugged. “Have you even seen yourself, Dip?”

“Huh?”

She forced her nerves down. He wanted her. She knew he did. She just needed to reassure him that she wanted him just as much. “You’re really freakin’ sexy, bro.”

He smiled hesitantly. “So, is it okay if I…?”

“Look, man,” Mabel said, “if you try a thing and I’m not about it, I’ll let ya know, but otherwise, go for it.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

“Uh, I am absotively posolutely sure.”

Grinning, Dipper leaned in to kiss her, and she smiled against his lips when he did. “I missed you,” she murmured against him.

He moved closer to her, pressing his body into hers. “I missed you, too,” he told her. “Now, I gotta be honest with you here, Mabes.” He pulled back a bit to look at her very, very seriously.

“Oh… kay?”

“This outfit,” he glanced down at her shorts and shirt. It was too hot for a sweater, so her top was light and breezy. It also showed off a bit of boobage, so there was that. “It’s cute, I like it and all, but I’d like it a lot more if it were on the floor.”

“Hmm…” she said thoughtfully. “On one condition.” She held up a finger.

“What’s that?”

“I’m only taking my clothes off if you take yours off, too. All’s fair in love and war, buddy-o.”

He grinned cheekily at her. “Is that right? And which is this?”

She shrugged. “Both, prolly.”

“Fair enough,” Dipper said with a chuckle before he pulled back to strip out of his clothes as fast as he possibly could. She was so busy watching him pull his shirt off that she totally forgot she was supposed to take her own clothes off, too. He paused before dropping his shirt to the floor. “Mabellllllllll,” he whined. “You said you’d take your clothes off, c’mon!”

“Right!” She started, almost surprised. “Right, right, sorry, my b.” Pulling her shirt over her head while simultaneously kicking off her sneakers at the heels, Mabel lay back on the bed, unbuttoning her shorts and lifting her butt to shimmy out of them. She wasn’t paying much attention to Dipper at that exact moment, or the way his eyes were wide and glued to her newly exposed skin, but when she finally got the shorts over her hips and down her legs, flinging them away from her with a flick of her foot, she looked up at him, and he was…

Whelp. He was totally nekkid, wasn’t he? She’d seen plenty of pictures lately (had a whole app she kept them in on her phone, even), but pictures on a phone screen ain’t got nothin’ on seeing her bro-bro in person.

“Looks like somebody’s happy to see me,” she grinned nervously at him.

“Gee, I wonder why,” he said sarcastically. “It’s almost like my soulmate is laying on a bed mostly naked right in front of me.” His eyes focused on hers for a moment before drifting back over her body again. “Which, by the way, you should be totally naked.”

“Fair enough,” she agreed, sitting up and reaching around her back to unhook her bra. He watched her, wide-eyed, as she pulled her arms out of the straps and flung the bra away. He watched, too, as she pulled her panties off the same way she had her shorts.

As it turned out, actually seeing how badly he wanted her, like, seeing legit physical evidence of it, well. It was something of a self-esteem boost.

He stared at her for several seconds. She stared back. Then he dove at her, and suddenly he was kissing her lips, her face, her neck, her breasts- it was quite a lot, really, and he seemed to be going pretty fast, too.

“Dipper,” Mabel gasped out as he attacked her nipple. There was really no other word for it. It was most certainly an attack. He was alternating between sucking it harshly and nibbling on it with his teeth, and it stung in the most delicious way.

He pulled off her breast with a pop, then trailed kisses down her chest and stomach, looking at her intently all the while.

“Wh- what’re you doing?” she questioned when he reached his presumed destination, spreading her legs to examine her body. Which, by the way, was tremendously embarrassing.

He looked back up at her. “Well, I was planning on, y’know…” he gestured to her vagina.

Mabel thought for a moment. “On one condition.”

“Another condition? Really?”

Nodding, she said, “you can eat me out, but only if I get to suck your dick after.”

He grinned up at her. “Deal.”

At that, he gave a torturously slow lick to her slit that ended just below where she really wanted it. She whimpered, which prompted him to do it again. And again. By the third incredibly slow lick, she was just about ready to scream at him before he thrust a finger into her and flicked his tongue over her clit in the same second, eliciting a gasp from her.

He thrust his finger in and out of her, slowly moving his tongue over her clit, and before long Mabel was whimpering again. “Ah- another,” she forced out. “Another finger, please.”

He complied, and when her fingers clenched the comforter, he moved a little faster inside of her, flicking his tongue in the same rhythm he was thrusting his fingers at, and she lifted her hips. He reached his other hand up to hold her down, to hold her still, and continued. “Close,” she gasped. “Don’t stop.”

Dipper hastened the flicks of his tongue, the thrusts of his fingers, and then he did something incredible. He closed his lips around her clit and started to suck gently. Mabel’s hand shot down to his hair, holding him between her legs, and her toes curled, bunching the comforter up in a tight grip beneath the pads of her feet, and she found herself instinctively fighting against the firm hand on her hip bone, trying to raise her pelvis closer to him.

“Ah- fuck, Dip, I’m gonna-“ he kept sucking her clit, only he started to flick his tongue over it at the same time, too, and Mabel shattered with a short, abrupt scream.

Her grip on his hair loosened and her hand fell to her side. Mabel’s entire body was tingling.

She’d forgotten how much stronger Dipper-assisted orgasms were than Dipper-free orgasms. She didn’t know if it was a soulmate thing, a Dipper thing, or an I’m-in-love-with-this-guy thing, and her brain was too mushy to care.

“Holy shit,” she panted, and he pulled away from her still-pulsing heat, pressing a kiss to the top of her thigh as he went. The extra tingles his lips caused traveled throughout the rest of her body.

“Sooooo… good, then?”

She glared at him. “Shut up, man, you know it was tops. Where’d you learn to do that, anyway?”

He reddened and looked away. “I maaaaay have done some online research.”

“What, like, porn?”

“Well, not for that specific purpose, no.”

“Then…?” she trailed off, looking at him expectantly.

“Okay, so I read some accounts from lesbians,” he confessed in a rush. “Mostly blogs and whatnot, and then I also talked to a few female friends I have-“

“Whoa there, pal,” she cut in. “What female friends? I dunno how I feel about you getting all the dirty deets from another girl.”

He blinked. “Oh, I talked to this lesbian friend I have, and also her girlfriend. Just… comparing notes, y’know?”

She looked at him incredulously for a few seconds, then burst out laughing. “Okay, okay, that’s fine. For a second there, I was worried you were exchanging extremely graphic details of our sex life with, like, Pacifica or something.”

Dipper blanched. “Yeah, no, not her.”

“Okay, cool.” After several more seconds, she looked him up and down.

Her bro was still sporting a big ol’ broner.

“I believe I was promised the opportunity to suck your dick in exchange for you getting the pleasure of eating me out.”

He blushed again. Holy bejeezus, he was adorable.

“You… you don’t have to, y’know,” he offered quietly.

“Well, yeah,” she agreed. “Of course I don’t have to, but it’s, like my new favorite hobby, brosephina.”

He grinned. “You’re pretty good at it, too.”

“Hmm,” she said, reaching down to grasp him. He gasped at the feel of her palm, and she motioned for him to lay down. “Maybe I’ll put that in college applications.” Once he was horizontal, Mabel leaned down and took the entire length of him in her mouth (or as much of him as she could fit, anyway) with absolutely zero warning.

Dipper groaned and leaned back against the pillow. “Fuuuuuuck.”

Humming around him, she bobbed her head, letting her lips slide over him and sucking in her cheeks. He reached down to grip one of her breasts, tweaking her nipple, and she moaned, the vibrations from the sound causing him to buck slightly into her mouth. She gagged a bit but kept going, pleased that he was enjoying himself so much.

Each time she only had the head of him in her mouth, she swirled her tongue around the top, dipping slightly into his urethra. “Holy shit, Mabes,” he groaned, fisting a hand in her hair. He didn’t push her head, though, for which she was grateful. Bobbing faster, obscene slurping sounds filled the loft, saliva dribbling down his shaft. His moans got louder, and she sped up as much as she could.

“Mabel,” he gasped. “Mabel, I’m gonna- you should move-“

She ignored him, grasping his testicles gently and taking him as deep as she could manage. She was pretty sure her nose brushed against his pubic hair on more than one occasion, actually.

He came down her throat with a shout that sounded almost pained, and she nearly choked on it all, but managed to swallow the vast majority of it. It was not pleasant-tasting, nor was the texture particularly appetizing, but when she looked up at him, he was gazing down at her like she was some kind of goddess, so it was worth it, she decided.

She pulled her mouth off of him, and when she did, a small amount of his semen dripped out of the side of her mouth. She wiped it away with the back of her hand.

“So, how was it?”

He looked at her incredulously. “You literally just swallowed my jizz and you’re asking me how it was?”

Mabel shrugged, grabbing his half-drunk water bottle that was off to the side of the bed. She sat up, taking a swig from it to wash that nasty-ass taste out of her mouth.

Eugh.

“It was awesome, Mabes,” he told her as she set the water bottle back down. She smiled happily at him, then lay down next to him and rested her head on his chest. “Downside, though, is I’ll need a bit before I can go again.”

“Eh, that’s fine.”

Turns out he only needed approximately ten minutes before he could go again.

She’d still been laying on his chest contentedly when he started running his fingertips over the side of one of her breasts, and when she looked up at him questioning it, he kissed her.

Dipper turned his body towards her, slipping his tongue into her mouth, and she felt his hardness press against her.

She pulled away with a laugh. “Already?”

“I’m seventeen, Mabel,” he pointed out.

She shrugged and went back to kissing him.

No objections from this girl, thank you.

He climbed on top of her before too much longer, his arousal pressing into her stomach, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, one of her hands at the back of his neck, her fingers threading through his hair.

He reached between them with one hand to grip one of her breasts again, squeezing it lightly. He kissed her neck, sucking a bruise into the skin, and she moaned softly. “Dip,” she murmured. “I need you.”

He reached between her legs to stroke her, finding her wet again. “I need you, too,” he groaned against her neck.

“Then take me,” she begged, lifting her hips to meet his fingers.

Positioning himself between her legs, he thrust into her with a groan, his head falling against her, his forehead resting between her breasts. “You okay?” he panted.

Nodding, Mabel wrapped her legs around the backs of his thighs. “Keep going.”

Pushing himself up onto his hands, Dipper pulled out of her almost completely, and she whimpered at the loss, gasping when he thrust back into her. He kept up his slow, gentle pace, like he was worried he’d break her, and eyes were clenched shut with the effort to restrain himself.

She reached up to stroke his cheek. “Let go, Dipper,” she said softly. “Don’t hold back. You won’t hurt me, I promise.”

When he pulled out and thrust back into her again, harder this time, like she’d wanted, she moaned and grasped his arms, her fingertips digging into his skin.

“Fuck, Mabel,” he groaned, his hips snapping against hers. “I missed this so much.”

“Me too,” she agreed, lifting her hips to meet each of his thrusts. “Please don’t stop.”

He leaned down to press his lips to hers desperately, hungrily, and she returned the kiss with just as much ferocity, her legs tightening around him.

“Harder,” she begged. She knew she was begging. She didn’t care. “Give it to me harder!”

Dipper complied, pulling back slightly to watch her breasts bounce in time with his thrusts. Mabel lifted one of her legs up to rest her ankle on his shoulder, and they both groaned at the new angle, the new depth.

“You feel so good,” he moaned, slamming into her again. “Fuck, I don’t- I don’t know how much longer I can-“

“I don’t care, I don’t care,” she gasped out. “Just fuck me, Dipper, please!”

Dipper rose up to his knees, lifting her hips to meet his and holding the leg she’d placed on his shoulder still as he pounded into her.

Clenching the fabric of the comforter in her hands so tightly her knuckles hurt, Mabel couldn’t seem to stop herself from screaming, begging him for more, not to stop.

Putting a hand on her hip to hold her pelvis against his, he gripped her hard enough to bruise, and all she could think was that she hoped it did bruise, she wanted to feel the remnants of this for weeks-

She looked up at him, his pained expression, the way he was staring between them, watching himself slide in and out of her harshly.

“Get me pregnant, Dipper,” she moaned. “I want it so badly, please, I need it-“ she cut herself off with a cry when he thrust into her again.

“I can’t,” he forced out. “You know I can’t.”

“Please,” she said again. “I need it, I need it so bad, fuck-“

He thrust again, moving his hand from her hip to her breast, pinching her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Soon, Mabes, I promise,” he groaned, leaning against the leg she had on his shoulder.

“Now, dammit,” Mabel demanded. “I want you to fuck a baby into me now!”

“I want it, too,” he confessed, squeezing her breast roughly as he thrust into her. “But we can’t yet. I’ll give you one soon, I swear, just-“ he cut himself off. “Fuck, Mabel, I’m gonna- fuck-“

“Cum for me, cum inside me, Dip,” she begged, desperate for it, for him.

“I can’t,” he groaned miserably, then reached between them and rubbed her clit in quick, harsh circles.

“Ah!” Mabel cried out, her toes curling and her body freezing up as her orgasm ripped through her abruptly.

He didn’t stop pounding into her, not even for a second, only lifted his hand away from her clit to hold her hip again, his head falling back. “Mabes, I- I love you, fuck, I love you-“

She knew he was seconds away from orgasming; his thrusts were short and stunted, harsh and bruising. “Cum for me, Dipper,” she encouraged. “Fill me up.”

He groaned her name again, then, to her tremendous disappointment, yanked himself out of her abruptly, his release spurting onto her vulva. Her hips fell back onto the mattress, and he collapsed on top of her.

After several minutes, he lifted his head up to look at her. “Do you really want me to get you pregnant? Like, now?”

She thought for a moment before answering. “Yeah, I do.” He seemed startled by that. “But I also know it’s not really… feasible right now. I really, really want it, but I know it’s not a good idea.”

He nodded and leaned in to kiss her slowly, lovingly, nuzzling her nose with his when their lips disconnected. “I love you, Mabel.”

“I love you more,” she countered with a grin.

“I love you the most,” Dipper insisted.

“Oh yeah?” she challenged. “Think you got me there, don’t cha? Well guess what, buddy: I love you infinity times the most, so there.”

He blinked at her. “Uhhhh… that’s not how math works. There’s nothing more than the most.”

“I don’t give a rat tooth if it’s ‘not how math works’,” she said in her very best Dipper impression. “I dunno if you’ve met me before, but I’m Mabel Pines, and I’m redefining math.”

He snorted. “If you say so.”

“Damn right I say so!” After a moment, she noticed the stickiness between them. “Errr… can you get something for that? I’m feelin’ a bit jizztastic here, bro.”

“Right,” he agreed with a slight blush. “Lemme, uh… lemme get something for that.”

“Coolio, I’ll chill here.”

He nodded and went down the stairs.

Well, Mabel thought. This is gonna be one awesome weekend.

[cowboyshit]

Only for the Holidays (pt 3)

Ship: Adam “Hangman” Page and Ivy (OFC) Summary: Adam and Ivy cross paths at a mutual friend’s holiday party and hit it off, both admitting they’ve grown tired of constantly being asked about having a partner at the various holiday events they have to attend. They come to an agreement to pretend to date for the holidays to get their friends and family off their backs, but neither of them admit that they’ve had an attraction to each other from the beginning. Will these feelings come to a head? Or will the pair be able to stick to their original plan and only get through the holidays together? Rating: general/fluff Length: 5,484 words part THREE of THREE (part one, part two), the fic can also be read in it’s entirety on ao3 (here)

author’s note: and alas! the final installment of this little fake-dating series I wrote for viv’s @12daysofchristmas​ challenge! I hope you guys enjoy the finale to this sweet little story, it was nice to write something so warm and fluffy for the holidays even if I was writing it all by the seat of my pants and didn’t have anything planned LOL

Ivy’s phone chimed, indicating a new text message had come through. Pausing in wrapping the last of the gifts she had left, she leaned over and grabbed it to look at the screen. There was a new text message from Adam. A smile immediately turned the corners of her mouth and she quickly opened their text conversation.

How’s your voice doing?

She laughed and immediately tapped out a reply. Better. I actually have one today! 

She had lost her voice while screaming at the live Dynamite show his friends invited her to a couple days ago. She’d never been one of the kids who watched wrestling growing up and knew only vaguely what it was about, but she’d had an even better time than she expected. The show they’d put on was fast and full of stunts and surprises Ivy would have never expected. They’d also been absolutely right about it being fun to watch ringside, though she’d had to fight through nerves any time the camera men pointed those large cameras her way. She’d screamed so much by the time she woke up the next morning she’d all but lost her voice.

Watching Adam perform in the ring had been something else entirely. The things he was able to do astonished her. He had to explain what all the moves were called after the match as she excitedly babbled backstage, but he’d seemed like he was glowing when he had. Her favorite had been the “flippy thing he did in the middle” (the shooting star press) and the “flippy thing he did off the pole” (the moonsault off the ring post). She liked the way his blond curls fluffed out and floated, catching the white lights that lit the ring as he maintained control and soared through the air. The athleticism and strength he possessed was amazing. She remembered her delighted surprise when he caught his opponent mid-leap, carried him to the center of the ring, tossed him over and popped up in a smooth kip up that had her eyes gone wide. She’d seen his muscles when she caught herself admiring him, but she hadn’t realized just how strong he was.

Her phone chimed again and distracted her from daydreaming about watching him shirtless and sweaty, getting riled up in the ring. She felt suddenly warm and blushed, looking down at his message.

What are you up to tonight?

They’d been doing this a lot lately. Just texting idly throughout their days, even though her family party wasn’t until tomorrow night. It had started with her asking questions about what to wear to a wrestling show and him giving her details for where she’d need to go, but they always sort of fell into carrying the conversation beyond that. He was just… easy to talk to.

Easy on the eyes, too.

Ivy shook her head at herself and sent him a reply. Wrapping up the last of the gifts to take over tomorrow night. 

Oh shoot, was I supposed to get something for your mom?

Ivy couldn’t help but smile. You’re a brand new “boyfriend” she’s never met before, remember? She doesn’t even know about your existence, you don’t have to get her anything. Besides, the family does a big gift exchange cause there’s too many people to individually buy for, and you and I have a joint gift I already bought.

What did we get for the gift exchange? Another quick reply. The notifications were popping up that he read her message as soon as she sent it, which meant he had their conversation actively open.

Ivy opened her camera app and snapped a picture of the still-to-be-wrapped box set full of all the tools necessary to make delicious hot cocoa, as well as peppermint bark, a little bottle of peppermint schnapps and one of chocolate liqueur. She sent the picture to him and typed: A giftset to make spiked hot cocoa! 

What are the rules on getting your own gift in the gift exchange? That sounds good. Never spiked my cocoa with peppermint before.

Ivy’s fingers jumped quick to type her message: Really? I don’t do it often since I just like cocoa by itself, but it’s pretty tasty! I’ll have to make it for you some time. She clicked send before reading it back over, then looked at the message and felt her eyes go wide. She should make it for him sometime? When? When they were at her family’s big gettogether, pretending to date so her family wouldn’t make her feel bad for being single? Or when they supposedly “broke up” a few weeks later?

His reply didn’t come back as immediately as the others did. Worry twisted in her stomach.

That would be nice, I’d like that. His reply chimed back. He was just being polite, obviously. She sent a little smiling emoji in reply and closed their conversation, setting her phone aside as she decided to distract herself by finishing wrapping up gifts. After, she could pick what she’d be wearing tomorrow night to the party. Of course she’d been silly to think she could avoid catching some sort of feelings, even a passing infatuation for a cute, sweet, blond-haired cowboy. He clearly hadn’t (she remembered his playful promise that they wouldn’t fall for each other) and she wasn’t going to make him uncomfortable by pursuing something he clearly didn’t feel.

When her phone stayed dark and no further messages came through to carry on their conversation, Ivy knew she was right.

**********

He’d already been nervous the whole day leading up to when he was going to pick Ivy up at her place, but seeing her coming out of the house in her pretty red holiday dress made his mouth go dry. He was a step behind climbing out of the cab to go around and pop the door open for her like a gentleman ought to, too caught up with staring at her walk down the steps of her porch. His fingers curled around the handle as she waited by the passenger side of his truck, rocking a little in her heels. Her smile picked up as she thanked him for opening her door. Adam smiled, but still had to look away from her for a moment.

She was so damn pretty… but it wasn’t just physical. Something had changed for him that night she came out to see him wrestle. He’d felt different in the ring. More energized. He hadn’t been able to stop grinning as he watched her excitedly talk about everything she’d liked afterwards. He’d asked her question after question just to keep her talking. Adam made her tell him everything she liked and didn’t like about the entire night and had laughed as he explained what the different lingo meant. They’d ordered late night food to Daily’s Place and stayed up talking with each other and sometimes with the other wrestlers who were still lingering about.

The next morning he woke up and he missed her. None of this was fake, not any more. Not for him, anyways. Her promise to make him spiked hot cocoa sometime had sat on his mind all night, and it popped up again as he climbed back into the cab and pulled away from the curb. Was it a joke he wasn’t supposed to look too far into? Was she just being nice? Or was that her way of telling him she thought they should keep seeing one another?

This night, her family’s party, was meant to be the last time they were technically together. Every minute that ticked by was one more they wouldn’t have… unless she liked him the way he liked her. Adam just needed to find the right time to ask her. Maybe he’d wait until after the party, he thought, glancing over at her and smiling as she checked her lipstick in the visor mirror. Yeah, that sounded fair. They’d have a good time tonight and in a week or so, he’d reach out and see how she was and find some way to bring it up, even if every time he thought about how much he liked her he got butterflies in his stomach and felt like his tongue swelled up.

She gave him the last of the directions and he slowed his truck as they pulled up to a country home set on at least a good acre of land. The large two-story home was glowing warm out its many windows and was strung up in pretty, twinkling lights. When he parked, he noticed just how many cars were around them.

“Your family really doesn’t mess around, huh?” She’d warned him that her family went all out for the holidays, all the generations rotating households for hosting each year. This year just so happened to be the year her parents were hosting.

“They really don’t,” she said with a laugh as they walked side-by-side up the walkway leading to the porch. Automatic, Adam’s hand reached and curled around hers. She slid her eyes toward him and then smiled and looked at all the cars they were passing, starting to mutter to herself who all had already showed up.

“These are all your relatives?” Adam wasn’t unfamiliar with big family gatherings - his entire upbringing had been Sunday lunches at his grandma’s with all the family in attendance - but he hadn’t anticipated this many people.

“Yeah,” she laughed. “Grandma and Grandpa had eleven kids and each of those kids has gotten married and has kids and every one of their kids except for one have had their own kids. Hell, there’s even a new great-grandbaby this year.”

“Wow,” Adam laughed and shook his head, walking up the porch steps and feeling his nerves rise inside. 

“The only one who hasn’t had grandkids?” She asked as they stopped in front of the door, her brow arching. “My mom. Because I haven’t had any, and neither has my brother. So… just be ready in case she decides the first time meeting you is the right moment to start slipping baby name ideas to you.”

Adam chuckled. “Thank you for the warning.”

“Alright, brace yourself.” She smiled and turned the knob to open the large wood door with its pretty glass-front window design. 

Immediately there was warmth and laughter and underneath the mix of chatter was the soft sounds of low-volume classic Christmas music. String lights hung around the home offered lovely soft yellow lighting, with red ribbons and garland all around. It was beautiful enough to be seen on television, or so Adam thought. As he looked around the living area he tried to picture it without the holiday decorations, the home Ivy grew up in. What kind of kid had she been? Was she bold and adventurous or careful and shy? He looked over at her profile and realized their hands were still clasped. 

The nearest people greeted Ivy as she passed and she only took her hand from his to give hugs, catching up with quick questions of how everyone was doing and introducing Adam as they went. By the time he met the sixth or seventh person he realized he was already getting names mixed up. Adam cursed himself and glanced back from where they’d came, squinting as he looked at the faces he’d seen and trying to remember what had been said when they’d been introduced to him not even a minute ago.

“There you are sweetheart! Come here!” A jovial looking woman, short with round hips and waves of gold-blond hair came toward Ivy with open arms. She grabbed her up in a hug and squeezed her tight, even though Ivy groaned.

“Mom! You act like you haven’t seen me in years!” She complained.

“Oh like your mom can’t shower you in love every time you see her.” Her mother shook her head as she pulled away, only then seeming to notice Adam. Her eyes went wide. “Who’s this?” She looked back at Ivy for an explanation.

“My name’s Adam, ma’am.” Adam knew when and how to lay on the charm and he’d promised Ivy he’d be the perfect so-called boyfriend to keep her mother off her back. He extended a hand for a polite shake. 

“Mom, this is my…” Ivy and Adam’s eyes met. Her expression softened. “My boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Her mom echoed, still holding on to Adam’s hand as she looked from her daughter back to him. “Well! Has he met everyone yet? Did you get him something to drink? What do you want sweetheart? We have eggnog, homemade!” And, still holding on to his hand, Ivy’s mom started to drag him away, ignoring Ivy’s protests that she was introducing him slowly to the family and they’d make their way to the kitchen eventually.

Ivy hadn’t been kidding when she said her family - and her mother - could be a little overwhelming. Although rather than leaving him anxious and strung tight, it was that good kind of overwhelming that instead had him dizzy with warmth and love. Adam was dragged around the house, introduced to everyone he hadn’t met yet (and even those he had) as Ivy followed and kept trying to get her mother to relinquish her hold on him in between apologizing for her mother’s behavior. Truthfully, Adam was struggling to hold back a smile. She was cute, concerned and fussing over him like that, putting those big, pleading eyes on his as she begged him to just hold out a little bit longer.

Finally their trip rounded them back in a circle where her mother was beckoned from the kitchen to help set up more snack trays. Adam and Ivy were left alone (relatively, of course, he noticed there were people grouped throughout the living area) and as they met one another’s eyes he widened his and exhaled an exhausted breath.

“Wow.”

“I know!” Her brows dipped inward, creating little wrinkle lines on her forehead. She reached out and put a hand on his forearm and he felt the muscle tense, electricity up his skin from her touch. “I’m so sorry Adam. I told you she’s relentless and was going to want everyone to meet my boyfriend.”

“If I’m bein’ honest, I felt like a well-bred stud being marched around and shown off.”

“Oh my god!” Ivy snickered and then groaned. Her hand slipped off his arm and he wished he could reach out and put a hand on her hip just to keep them touching. “It was exactly like that. Once she knew you were on t.v. it was all over.” She shook her head, sighing. “I’m sorry, your friends weren’t nearly as much as my mom has been. And this is only the first half hour of the night.”

Adam laughed and as cute as she was worried over him, he decided he’d calm those fears of hers. He started to lift his hand, wanting to push his palm against her cheek and gently hold her face, then remembered himself and let it drop to his side. He cleared his throat and shrugged.

“Nah, I honestly don’t mind it at all. It’s done wonders for my confidence.” His grin stretched playfully into his bearded cheeks.

“You’re a saint,” Ivy laughed and he was happy to see she was happy.

“What about you?” He asked, “I know we’ve only been here a little bit but is it helping?” He hoped it was.

“It is!” She said without hesitation. “That whole time my mom was dragging you around to show you off would have been spent with her reliving my exes to me, asking me where they’re at now, or telling me about women she knows who have single sons my age, or this cute young man my age she met at the grocery store and struck up a conversation with and got his number for me.”

Adam blew another breath out of his mouth. “I’m glad I can help.” But a frown worked its way across his brow. Ivy was a smart, successful, capable woman all on her own. It wasn’t fair that her mother only considered her relationship something to discuss and didn’t pay attention to everything else her daughter was. “You okay?” She asked, and he realized she’d been watching him and seen his change in expression.

“Oh, sorry. Yeah.” But she still peered at him and he knew this wasn’t the place to broach a serious topic like that. “When are you going to tell her about the promotion?”

“Honestly I was so busy trying to keep her from smothering you I completely forgot.” She laughed. “I guess I’ll tell her after the gifts are over. Anyways, come on-” she grabbed his hand, tingles again “-let’s go load up our plates with finger foods. It’s the best part of the whole night.”

Adam grinned, following after her as she held his hand, twining his fingers around hers and thinking about how whole he felt.

*********

The entire evening was better than Ivy could have anticipated. She knew it was mostly due to having Adam as her near-constant company, and feeling warmly closer to him than they probably had any right to be. During the gift exchange they’d claimed a spot on one of the couches and like it was natural, Ivy had leaned into him, Adam had lifted his arm and wrapped it snug around her shoulders. They’d shared a little smile then both looked away, staying cuddled up throughout the entirety of the exchange.

It had come to an end as the last gift was opened and she still didn’t move to get up from leaning on Adam’s soft yet somehow firm body. He didn’t try to lift his arm to separate them, either. Their supposedly shared gift sat at their feet in front of the couch, a large fluffy blanket that she’d had to have the moment she felt it and a Starbucks gift card. Absolutely perfect.

Conversation flowed happily around the room. Ivy and Adam were listening as her father retold his favorite Christmas story - the night Ivy was six and they’d had to come to a sudden stop on snowy roads, after the car righted itself there was a little gathering of stags that’d run out of the woods. Ivy had started to cry, worried that they were Santa’s reindeer and had gotten lost, meaning Santa wouldn’t be able to deliver presents that evening.

“I had to sit there and explain all about the differences between reindeer and white-tails and promise her the whole way home that Santa was going to be able to come that night.” Her father was grinning near ear-to-ear as he chuckled.

Ivy rolled her eyes, but smiled. She was tired of hearing the story every year but it was clearly endearing to her father. Adam, hearing it for the first time, had seemed to enjoy listening to it too.

“She was so cute kicking up a fuss like that.” Her father said warmly.

“I’ll bet she was.” Adam said. Ivy glanced quickly up at him only to see his eyes were locked on hers. Her stomach felt as if it erupted in a wild fluttering of butterflies and she swallowed, feeling a little hot in her cheeks. This was more… wasn’t it? They were being more coupley, weren’t they? Even more than they’d been at his company holiday party. Was their being together, their touching and holding hands becoming more natural to him, too? Or was she going crazy, projecting and seeing the things she wanted to see to justify how she felt about him now?

The questions would drive her insane, she needed to change the topic.

Ivy cleared her throat and looked back at her parents. “I’m getting a promotion at work.”

“Are you?” Her mother gasped.

“That’s wonderful sweetheart,” her father praised with a smile. “When did you find out?”

“A few weeks ago,” Ivy smiled, suddenly feeling almost shy with Adam’s proud gaze on her, his hand gently rubbing up and down her arm. The skimming of his fingertips on her skin was almost distracting.

“Why did you wait so long to tell us?!” Her mother admonished. “Sweetheart, that’s amazing! You’ve been working so hard, it’s about time they recognized it.”

“Thank you mom,” Ivy laughed.

“How’s the pay increase?” Her dad asked.

Ivy shook her head. “It’s actually pretty impressive if I’m being honest.” She’d already started to daydream about all the things in her life she was going to invest in and upgrade. “I’ve been working my ass off to get this promotion.”

“Well!” Her mother was beaming and her eyes slid to Adam and back to Ivy, her smile getting a mischievous little twist. Oh no, thought Ivy. “With more money you’d be able to support a child.” She winked as though they shared an inside secret, then gave that same wink to Adam. “I happen to think I’d make the perfect grandmother.”

Ivy’s heart sank, even with Adam at her side, she was still incomplete. She was sure her mother didn’t mean it, but it still stung. Before she could say something wrong and upset her mother or change the subject entirely, Adam was speaking up.

“With all due respect, ma’am, Ivy and I just started dating; we’re a little far off from seeing how compatible we are or if children are even something either of us want.”

“Oh, of course,” her mother looked taken aback. Ivy gaped at Adam and wasn’t sure if she should pinch him or kiss him for speaking up to her mother.

Adam looked at her, seemed to hesitate, then started talking again. “I know you’re proud of your daughter,” he glanced back toward her parents, who were now watching him with slightly guarded expressions, “but when you jump straight to talking about her lack of children or who she’s dating, it makes it seem like that’s all you care about. I know it’s not my place to say, but I also know it bothers her, and she shouldn’t have to feel like she’s anything less than the amazing woman I’ve come to see she is.”

The small group was quiet. Ivy didn’t know what to say or do. Adam had talked calmly, never raising his voice, but he’d effectively checked her mother’s habit to overlook Ivy’s accomplishments. It was a bold move for a real boyfriend, even bolder for a fake one. Or, hell, maybe he figured he wouldn’t be seeing her parents again and was free to stick up for her even under their own house.

The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to grab his face and kiss him. No one had ever stood up for her like that. Still, Ivy worried over her mother’s reaction and looked back at her.

“Do I really do it that often?”

“Mom,” Ivy sighed and glanced down at her hands. She made herself look back up. “Yeah. You do. It’s why I waited so long to tell you about the promotion. I don’t know if you’re doing it on purpose, but it feels like it is. It makes me feel like…” Their voices were low enough the conversation was truly just among the four of them, but Ivy still paused to make sure no family members were listening in that she didn’t want to overhear. “Mom, you just make me feel like I’m not doing enough if I’m not seeing someone or giving you a grandchild.” Emboldened by the honesty coming out, she looked over at Adam and shook her head, realizing how ridiculous the whole thing had been to start with. “I mean, Adam and I aren’t even-”

“Aren’t even that serious yet.” He jumped in, talking over her. Ivy tilted her head, eyes on his. Why didn’t he want her to tell her parents that they weren’t actually dating?

“I’m sorry, baby,” her mother said, and when Ivy looked back saw a sheen of tears in her eyes. “I didn’t realize I’d been so awful about it to you.”

“Mom, no,” Ivy shook her head, shoulders dropping. “Don’t cry. I should have told you how much it bothered me instead of just grinning and bearing it.”

Getting up from the couch, Ivy’s mother stood up too. Immediately Ivy wrapped her arms around her mother and cuddled tight into her as her mother held her, too. “I’m sorry sweetie,” she whispered again in Ivy’s ear, squeezing her a little tighter for a moment before they let go. 

“I really am proud of you, you know that? My little Ivy put herself through college, got her dream job, is living independently, and achieving all her dreams. I can’t even begin to tell you how proud I am of you! I brag about you all the time. I just, well, I’m your mom. I worry about you being all alone. And yes, maybe I am a bit baby crazy and I’ve started pushing that off on you.” She shook her head. “You can have no kids, have ten kids, marry once, marry never, I don’t care sweetie. I’m always going to be proud of you.”

“Thank you, mom.” Ivy said, now feeling her own tears rising. She reached to wipe at her eyes, careful of her make-up.

“Hey! No crying on Christmas!” A cousin shouted, looking over and seeing her and her mother having their close, emotional talk. Ivy shook her head as laughter rippled around the room.

“It’s not Christmas, it’s December 19th!” Her mother scolded back. “We can cry all we want to.”

“I think I’m good on the crying,” Ivy laughed and looked back at her mom, softening. “Thank you, mom.”

“You don’t have to thank me for coming to my senses.”

“Well, I think it was more like you were forced to come to your senses.” Her father spoke up and slapped his thighs as he lifted off the couch to stand up with them. Adam stood up as well. 

Rubbing his hand at the back of his neck, Adam spoke up. “I’m sorry, I know that wasn’t polite of me-”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Her mother hushed him almost immediately. “I was a little shocked at first, but clearly this was something we needed to talk about.” “I think I would have preferred a less crowded house,” Ivy admitted, looking around. Most of the family was still deep in their own conversations, but she had to have imagined some of them had overheard.

“Any man who stands up for my little girl, to her own mother no less, the first time he’s meeting the family… well, that’s a man I definitely approve of for my daughter.” Ivy’s father chuckled and patted Adam on the back. “I like this one, sweetheart. He’s a good one.”

Ivy smiled as their eyes met. “Yeah, he is.”

The party carried on for a couple more hours of happy chatter until one by one the families started to slowly trickle out. Ivy and Adam were the last to leave, helping tidy up around the house despite her mother’s assurance they shouldn’t bother themselves by cleaning. It really wasn’t a bother. Ivy thought of it as a sort of sweet domesticity, picking up plates and putting leftover food away, cleaning up trash and righting the house again side-by-side with Adam. She kept sneaking glances over at him as he smiled back at her; a few times they’d reached for the same things and brushed their hands against each other. Their touches continued to linger a little longer and a little longer each time, her cheeks warm as their eyes held contact. By the end her gaze kept finding its way to his lips; she just couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t stop wondering what’d be like to kiss him.

Adam sucked in a breath as they stepped back, having finished putting the last of the food up. “I guess we should get on home?” He asked.

It was rather late, though Ivy felt hesitation she knew was due to this being their possible last moments together. If she said yes, they would walk out of the door, get in his truck, he would drive her home and drop her off and they supposedly would never see one another again. Or, well, they’d maybe see one another, but nothing like this. Nothing like tonight had been. Nothing like the past few weeks had been.

“Yeah,” she said, trying not to let any regret seep into her tone. “We probably should.”

They went to say their goodbyes to her parents, gathering their gift and the leftovers her mother pushed off on her before they finally stepped out of the house. Ivy exhaled into the cool late-night winter air as Adam closed the front door and they stood on the porch.

“Thank you,” she said, not yet descending the steps to go to his truck.

“For?” He frowned, tilting his head as he looked down at her.

“For... standing up for me? For being...you? I don’t know. I just had such a good time tonight I feel like I need to thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me, darlin’.” He smiled. “I had just as good a time tonight as you, promise. Although, I do still feel like I should apologize. That wasn’t my place to talk to your mom like that.”

“Adam, it’s okay. I was a little taken aback but, honestly like my mom said, that conversation needed to happen.”

“I’m glad you’re not mad at me,” he said, his voice a little hushed. They were still lingering on the porch. Ivy felt like she could stand there all night in spite of the chill, but knew they shouldn’t. She took one last longing glance at his lips and smiled. “I doubt I could ever really be mad at you.” 

Maybe little things, tiny annoyances on nerve-frazzled days or the common day-to-day things you argue and work through and overcome to come back stronger than ever. Nothing that would ever make her really resent him, though. She could tell herself until she was blue in the face they’d only been talking a month and she probably didn’t know him as well as she thought she did, but something was telling her everything with Adam would just make sense.

She honestly never felt like this with anyone before. How could she feel so connected to him when they were still essentially strangers? When they hadn’t even really been dating to begin with?

“Come on,” she turned away, the gift bag and tote bag of leftover goodies in tow. “We should probably get off my parent’s porch.”

“Wait,” he said as she turned to walk away, “we almost forgot...”

“Forgot what?” Ivy looked back at him and saw he’d taken a step to close their distance. She had to tilt her head to look up into his eyes where she saw he was holding a little piece of garland.

“It’s tradition to kiss under mistletoe.” He said.

“Adam…” It was hard to keep herself from giggling. The grin spread and pushed up into her cheeks. “That’s not mistletoe, that’s a piece of fake pine-needle garland I think you stole from my mom’s house.”

“Tomato, tom-ah-to. Maybe I just wanted an excuse to do this...” He leaned down, brushing his lips softly against hers.

Immediately she warmed to his touch, melting against the contact. He took the invitation to sink deeper into their kiss. His hand dropped and found its place on her hip, pulling her tighter against him. The garland had been dropped to the ground, happily forgotten as he ran his tongue between the split of her lips and then sank inside her mouth as she opened with invitation.

The bags fell with a rustle and a thump by her feet and her arms came up quickly around his shoulders, wrapping tightly and pulling him down on her. Their heads moved, matching the shape of their lips better. His fingers squeezed into her hips, the passion mounting further and further the longer their lips touched and tongues stroked.

They broke apart, chests rising and falling quick as they exhaled large, foggy white breaths in the small space between them. All Ivy could taste was him. She felt deliriously dizzy.

“I have been wanting to do that for a long damn time,” he admitted.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I think I broke our rule,” she confessed. They were still holding each other, going nowhere but lost in one another’s eyes.

“Our rule?”

“We weren’t supposed to fall for each other, remember? I’m afraid I might be falling, cowboy.”

A warm smile melted across his face.

“I think I’ve already beat you there.” He bent and, just before his lips touched hers, exhaled his promise across her mouth, “I’ll be ready to catch you, darlin’.”

[crystalninjaphoenix]

The Magic Circle

A JSE Fanfic

Hey, who’s excited for my first non-AU piece in a long time? Who’s excited for my first one-shot in like forever? If you’re excited for either of those things, then this is the piece for you :D I took some inspiration from Marvin’s video on Halloween to come up with this. Here, Marvin meets a magic group for the first time. Let’s see what happens :)

It’s a bright summer day outside. The sun is still high in the sky, despite it being almost five o’clock. There are people walking around the city streets, either going somewhere or even just taking a walk. Birds are chirping on top of the power lines and in the trees planted along the sidewalk. And Marvin was locked inside his room trying not to break something in frustration.

“Oh my goooood.” He puts his head down on the desk surface with a bit more force than necessary. It hurts, but he doesn’t mind. “Fuuuuuck offffff.” The desk before him is lit up with a lamp, despite there being sufficient light coming from the window. The lamp shines down on a laptop, open to a Google Docs document, and a leatherbound book, open to blank pages. Marvin drops his pen down on the desk. “Fuck it.” And with that, he pushes his chair back and heads over to the room’s door, unlocking it and heading outside.

He goes down the hall to the stairs, then down to the first floor. For a moment, he stops and blinks. His eyes feel...weird. Well, it makes sense. He’s spent almost all day staring at a computer screen or a blank page. The only time he wasn’t was when he was going to the bathroom. That probably wasn’t good for his eyes.

According to the wall clock in the downstairs hallway, he’s been trying for nearly five hours. That explains why he’s so hungry. Marvin heads into the kitchen and starts looking through the cabinets for something quick but filling.

Someone knocks on the doorframe behind him. Marvin jumps, and spins around. JJ is standing there. He waves. Hello, Marvin. Did you finish?

Marvin snorts and rolls his eyes. “Oh, I wish. I’ve done like...three pages. God. Fuck.”

Oh dear...JJ frowns. What’s wrong?

“I dunno.” Marvin rubs his eyes. “I just keep getting distracted. Opening up YouTube and stuff. God, it’s just so boring. Why do I even need to write it all down in a book? All my spells and shit are saved online.”

Some people are sticklers for tradition, JJ points out. But anyway, maybe you should take a break. You haven’t eaten anything, have you?

“Uh...no. That’s why I’m here.” Marvin resumes rummaging through the cabinets. “Do we have any crisps? I’m thinking of making nachos.”

You’re not just going to eat nachos, you haven’t had anything since you woke up at ten. JJ walks over and slowly pushes the door to the cabinet closed. Here, go sit down in the dining room. I’ll make you something.

“C’mon, JJ, you don’t have to. You were probably doing something else, don’t stop that for me.”

I was going to make dinner anyway, JJ shrugs. I know you don’t eat until later, usually, but please make an exception. You can’t work on that grimoire if you collapse from hunger.

Marvin sighs. “Yeah. Thanks.” He bumps his shoulder against JJ’s—a sign of affection that could easily be mistaken for clumsiness—and heads into the dining room.

He wishes he’d never found out about the greater magical community. Ever since he had, all it meant were problems. He had to learn all about the structure of this community, about how this organization called the ABIM made laws, about how certain spells were supposed to be regulated, about how things like wands, crystal balls, and other magical aides were supposed to be made certain ways. Marvin had always done his own thing. He didn’t exactly think he was the only person in the world with magic—after all, if that was the case, who wrote down all the spells he found online? But it hadn’t exactly registered that they were probably organized somehow, and that he should probably go look for others. Thanks to his total lack of searching for other magicians, the ABIM hadn’t realized he existed until about two months ago.

But now they know. And Marvin has to learn and keep up with a bunch of rules and regulations. The one that’s giving him the most trouble is the existence of a “grimoire.” Apparently, magicians are required to write down all the spells they know, and keep them in one place. And no, the document where Marvin had copy-pasted all the spells he’d found online doesn’t count. So now he’s spent the last week or so struggling to transcribe the online document into the book he’d purchased. Progress is...slow. Marvin just can’t focus on something as unstimulating as copying words down. There’s not even any new information to process.

Luckily, eating dinner helped him get some energy back. But when it’s all said and done, and he pushes away his plate, he’s dreading going back upstairs to try and ultimately fail some more. “Thanks, JJ,” he says.

You already said so, and you’re still welcome, JJ says. Then he pauses. Is there anyone who could help you with this? Other magicians lately?

Marvin groans. “Yeah, I guess I know some, but...I don’t wanna.”

Yes, we know, you’re very stubborn, JJ signs patiently.

“I can figure this out,” Marvin insists. “I can do things on my own!”

Except for making dinner, apparently.

Marvin can’t help but laugh. “Ah, ya got me there.” He sighs, and stares absently out the window. “Look, all the magicians I’ve met so far are part of this government group. And I don’t like them.”

Well, if you ask them for help, perhaps your opinion on that would change, JJ suggests.

“Well I wouldn’t be doing this in the first place if it wasn’t for their stupid fucking law!” Marvin snaps. Then he winces. “Sorry, didn’t mean to yell at you. I’m just...tired.”

JJ nods. Maybe you should stop for the night. It could be easier in the morning.

“Maybe.”

And also, if you keep getting distracted, have you tried putting on music? Or perhaps doing something with your spare hand while you write? That helps me.

“Maybe.” Marvin’s still uncertain.

JJ pushes his chair back and stands up. Also, can you please do the dishes?

“What?! But you cooked!”

Exactly, and we both ate it, so it’s only fair we both do something about it.

“Oh come on, I’m all tired, please?”

JJ merely folds his arms and stares at Marvin.

“Alright, fine,” Marvin relents. “I’ve been sitting all day, might as well do something a bit active.”

Oh thank you! JJ says, beaming.

“Heh, act like you didn’t twist my arm,” Marvin mutters, shaking his head affectionately.

———————

Later that night, Marvin finds he’s having trouble going to sleep. He keeps thinking about JJ’s suggestion, the one about asking other magicians for help. Sure, he isn’t exactly fond of the ABIM magicians he’s met so far. But maybe someone else...then again, perhaps the problem with transcribing his spells is just with him, and not with the actual subject matter.

Still, it can’t hurt to get a second opinion, right? But how to find the magicians?

An idea starts to form in his mind. Marvin gets out of bed and walks over to the desk. His laptop is still set up from that day. He powers it on. The time on the computer clock reads 11:20pm. Wow, he’d only been trying to get to sleep for an hour, he thought it was longer. Anyway, he goes back to the document of his spells, searching through them for one specific spell.

Yes, there it is. The title is “Magic Minds,” a tracking spell he’d recently picked up. It’s supposed to be able to guide a magician to other magicians. Marvin hasn’t used it yet, since he had no real reason to. He didn’t want to run into magicians before, but why not now?

Marvin grabs his phone from where it was charging, and quickly changes out of pajamas and into regular clothes. He pauses, then also grabs his cape from his closet. There’s no real reason to wear it, but it would make him feel a bit better. And with all this, he heads downstairs and outside.

The spell is easy enough to cast. He’s done tracking spells before, and they all require the same basic steps. An incantation or a few gestures, then you follow whatever visual cue the spell uses to find your target.

He turns his wand over in his hands, flicking it upward, downward, side to side. Green sparks left behind by the movements make a cross, +, hovering in the air. Technically he could have used his hands, but he likes the wand. And with the cross sign hovering there, Marvin whispers a word, and blows on the middle of the cross. A wisp of green light dances out from the breath, and hits the cross. From the spot of impact, the cross turns from green to white, and falls down to be horizontal, parallel to the ground. It spins, reorienting itself, then one leg of the cross turns red as the cross settles, pointing somewhere. Marvin heads in that direction.

The cross acts as a compass, pointing in one direction. He hopes it’s not too far away. People would think it’s weird, seeing one guy with a magic compass in a cape wandering around the city at night. But unfortunately, it turns out to be far enough that he regrets not taking the bus. Then he remembers that the buses don’t run this late at night, and regrets not doing this in the daytime. How is he simultaneously the most impulsive and least impulsive person he knows?

He makes his way to a section of the city full of identical, red-bricked terrace houses. The compass starts glowing brighter. That must mean he’s getting closer. Though, looking around and seeing nothing but residential buildings around, he’s not sure he wants to break in to someone’s house. This situation doesn’t exactly call for it. He’ll probably just write down the address.

The compass flickers, drawing him out of his train of thought. It locks onto one direction, flares brightly, and then dies. Marvin growls, frustrated. This isn’t the time for the spell to fail!

“You couldn’t have waited to put it on?”

Marvin jumps a bit at the voice, and ducks into the nearest alley way. He glances around, and sees a pair of people on the other side of the street, walking. Oddly enough, one of them is wearing a black cloak. No...it can’t be this easy...

“Oh, who’s out to see it?” a different voice says. “It’s late.”

“It’s a busy city, you’re just lucky no one’s out in this section,” the first voice snaps.

The pair walks up to one of the houses, standing on the doorstep. They continue to whisper to each other, too quiet for Marvin to hear on the other side of the street. After a while, the door opens, and the two of them disappear inside.

Strange...Marvin walks out of the alleyway, staring at the house on the other side of the street. What’s this all about? He glances around, making sure there are no cars or people coming, then runs across the street, stopping outside the house. He pauses, then glances into the window quickly. The inside doesn’t look any different from an average house, but he’s not sure since he ducks away quickly so nobody inside will notice him. Though strangely, there aren’t any people inside, even though there must have been at least three. He glances back in, just to make sure they aren’t anywhere.

It’s then that he notices something strange. The image through the window is...shimmering. Like a heat wave in the air. But the glass isn’t warped or anything that would cause that effect. On a whim, Marvin presses a finger to the window pane.

And surprisingly, the window appears to shiver. A wave of warm yellow light ripples out from the point of contact, just like water across the surface of a still pond. Slowly, the effect ends, and once it does, Marvin can see people gathered in the living room. And they’re all wearing black cloaks.

What was this? A magic gathering? Marvin’s curiosity grabs a hold of him. He has to get inside. But how?

He gets out his phone, looking through the spells he has gathered again. There should be an invisibility one here somewhere. He hadn’t used it since his days as a stage magician, but he must still have it. Though it takes a while of scrolling, he does eventually find it. It’s just an incantation, but it requires the magician to use absolute focus as long as they want to remain invisible. He always had trouble with that part, which is why he gave up on using it as soon as his career ended. Until now, he thought it was only good for escape tricks.

Scanning the incantation a couple times to make sure he knows it, Marvin takes a deep breath. He puts his phone back, then rings the doorbell and quickly whispers the incantation. A rush of cool flows over him, like suddenly walking out of a heated building into a cold outside, and when he next looks down, he can’t see his own body. He gasps in triumph, but then he sees his body flicker, and returns to concentrating on staying invisible.

The door opens, and a man in a cloak looks around. Marvin ducks past him, and luckily just barely avoids brushing against him. “Hello?” the man calls. A few moments pass, and the man shakes his head and closes the door.

Marvin finds himself standing in a living room, decorated in warm colors. At least ten people are gathered, all wearing black cloaks, though it appears they’re wearing regular street clothes under them. There’s a coffee table in the middle of the room, with a few various desserts lined up on it. A low buzz of chatter fills the air.

“What was it, Callisto?” a woman asks.

The man who opened the door shakes his head. “Nobody was there. Probably some kids’ prank.”

“In the middle of the night?” the woman asks doubtfully.

“You don’t know this neighborhood,” the man—Castillo—grumbles.

“You should have taken the cloak off before answering!” Someone else says.

“Shut up Basil, nobody would’ve cared,” Castillo snaps.

Marvin walks closer into the gathering, trying not to be distracted by the various conversations. It was difficult. Words kept sneaking into his awareness despite his best efforts. No, stay invisible. Stay invisible. Complete focus.

“Why does everyone keep bringing desserts to the meeting?” A woman nearby complains.

“Because it tastes fucking good, duh,” another woman next to her says.

“Can we get started already?” asks a man. “Hey Castillo! Everyone’s here, right? Can we get started?”

“Jeez, who lit the fire under your pants, Leo?” Someone mutters.

“Hey, I’m only pointing out that it’s almost midnight, Lily,” Leo says. “We’re running out of time!”

“Alright, Leo’s right, we’re getting close to the time,” Castillo sighs. “Alright, listen up everyone! We’re heading down to the basement to get started!”

A wave of chatter breaks out, and everyone files out of the room. Marvin rushes to the side in order to avoid anyone bumping into him. He watches silently as they all move into the hall and then down a set of stairs. What are they doing? He hesitates, then follows cautiously. A bunch of people in cloaks heading down to a basement for some sort of ritual? Every movie, book, and game ever says that’s a shady thing and should not be checked out. Yet he’s so curious. Is this what other magicians do?

The staircase isn’t too long, and it opens up into a large, wide room. Marvin was expecting a concrete floor and visible rafters, but it looks more like an entertainment room. The walls were painted a pale yellow, the floor was mostly carpeted, there were sofas and chairs and even one of those huge beanbags. It’s lit up by lightbulbs mounted directly into the ceiling, which makes it look just like any other household room. The only thing different is a square section of dark hardwood floor with a circle drawn on it in, well, what looks like salt. A few tall candles sit around the edges of the circle, in alternating purple and orange colors.

Marvin walks closer to the circle. There are some symbols drawn around its edge, also in salt. He’s surprised to realize he doesn’t recognize any of them. They’re not part of any runes he knows. But he does feel like he’s seen them before, somewhere else. Maybe it’s a different runic alphabet? But what does this mean?

“Hey, did you see that?” someone asks.

“See what?”

“I dunno, I thought...nevermind.”

“C’mon, Morgana.”

“Well, I just thought it looked like a person out of the corner of my eye.”

Marvin inhales sharply and goes back to concentrating on staying invisible. This is the last place he wants that to wear off.

“It’s five minutes to midnight!” Castillo calls. “Everyone in position!”

There’s a bit of awkward shuffling as the group moves to stand around the circle. A few people whisper about watching the edge of the salt to make sure it doesn’t get knocked out of place. “Someone get the lights,” Castillo says.

“Uh, shouldn’t we light the candles first so it’s not dark?” Basil points out.

“Oh, I have a lighter!” Morgana volunteers.

“Oh yeah.” Castillo nods. “Mor, you light the candles. Uh, James, you’re closest to the lights, knock them out, will you?”

“Everyone watch their hems,” Morgana says as she starts going around the edge of the circle and lighting the candles. Once they’re all lit, a man dashes over to the wall and hits the light switch, plunging the room into darkness except for the candlelight.

“Hands, everyone,” Castillo instructs. Everyone grabs their neighbors’ hands, forming a connected circle. “Two minutes to midnight. Time to start. Make sure you chime in at the right time.”

Silence falls. Marvin holds his breath, waiting for something to happen. And soon, the circle starts murmuring. No, it’s not just that, they’re actually chanting, all in a low, quiet voice. More voices join in, and they all get louder. Harmonies break off as different strings of words jump in, until the group is singing, their voices echoing off the walls.

Lines appear on the floor inside the circle. Lines of orange light, each one starting at the feet of one of the magicians, then ending at the feet of another. There were so many, connecting each magician to every other member of the group. The light coming from them grew brighter, and then—

SNAP!

Sparks flew into the air in the center of the circle. Quicker than what should be possible, they grow into a fire, hovering about three feet off the ground. The flames start orange, and then flicker between different colors—red, yellow, green, purple, blue, pink, white, and everything in between. It was as if a firework had gone off in the room, completely contained within a small part of the air. Marvin couldn’t help but gasp. And, as he stared closer into the fire, he realized there weren’t just colors...there were images as well. Shapes of people and objects forming scenes. They pass by too quickly for him to fully make out.

The chanting reaches a crescendo, and the fire breaks down into small balls of flame. Each one shoots toward one of the magicians, disappearing into their chests. For a moment, all the magicians glow with the colors of the fire. And then it fades. The lines on the floor disappear, and the magicians slowly stop their chants.

There’s a brief moment of quiet, like the heavy sort of silence one hears after having finished a good book and absorbing the story it contained. And then: “James, can you get the lights again?”

The man from before walks over to turn on the light switch. Everyone gasps and blinks in the suddenly bright room. Idle chatter starts up.

“Hey wait a minute, who’s that?!”

Marvin gasps as one of the magicians points at him. They all turn to look, and he realizes too late that he’d forgotten to concentrate on the invisibility spell.

“Who are you?!”

“What are you doing here?!”

“How’d you get in?!”

And Marvin panics. He turns and runs up the stairs, hearing the magicians shout behind him. Skipping the last step, he bursts out into the first floor hallway and starts to sprint for the front door.

Someone shouts something, and there’s a burst of red light. Then only blackness.

———————

Marvin only realizes he lost consciousness once he starts regaining it. He groans, feeling a headache spike in his temples, and opens his eyes.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” A man is sitting next to him, wearing a black cloak. It takes Marvin a moment to recognize him as the Castillo guy. But upon recognition, he bolts upright. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down!” Castillo holds his hands up, slightly pushing Marvin back down. “You’re not in any trouble. Persephone hit you with a blackout spell, but she’s sorry about that.” He glares to the side. “Riiight?”

Every other cloaked magician is standing nearby. They’re all back in the living room from before, with Marvin lying on one of the sofas. “Uh, yeah, really sorry,” a woman says. “I freaked out and acted on instinct.”

“How are you feeling?” Castillo asks, turning back to Marvin. “Some people have allergic reactions to blackout spells. Are you having any trouble breathing?”

Marvin doesn’t answer, looking wide-eyed at the people around him. Now that he’s actively facing the prospect of talking to other magicians, his throat has closed up. It’s probably made worse by the fact that he technically broke into their secret meeting.

“Uh, sir?” Castillo reaches out and makes to grab Marvin’s arm.

“Don’t!” Marvin flinches away. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

“Oh, okay, sorry!” Castillo sharply withdraws. “Just wanted to be sure you were breathing.”

“Yeah, well, I’m fine, so don’t touch me,” Marvin grumbles. He shifts awkwardly, glancing around at the others. They’re starting to mutter among themselves. He can’t tell what they’re saying, and that makes him nervous. Are they mad at him? It would be understandable. But he’s terrible with tone of voice, so he can’t even tell, and the uncertainty makes him even more worried.

“I got it, no worries.” Castillo gives a friendly smile, no doubt meant to reassure Marvin. “But you are okay, right?”

“Yeah, fine,” Marvin mutters.

“That’s good,” Castillo nods. “Um...do you mind if I ask how you got here? This house is warded from any teleportations.”

“Yeah, if you guys tell me who you are first,” Marvin countered.

“We’re the Magic Circle, duh,” one of the other magicians says.

“Well I’ve never fucking heard of the Magic Circle, so excuse me for not knowing!” Marvin sits up on the sofa, scooting away from Castillo.

“Huh? Really?” Castillo looks puzzled. “Well, specifically, we’re the Mirygale chapter of the Magic Circle, it’s a nationwide organization.”

“Are you guys like a coven or something?” Marvin asks.

“We’re just a group, man,” another magician says. “We meet up, cast spells together, not that hard to grasp.”

“I’ve never heard of magic groups,” Marvin says warily.

Castillo blinks. “Seriously?”

“Well, I know the ABIM guys,” Marvin admits. “But that’s it.”

“ABIM is different,” Castillo says dismissively. “They’re like a government, and a loose one at that.” He pauses. “Are you...self-taught?”

“Yeah. Why the fuck does that matter?” Marvin demands.

It must have mattered significantly, because a chorus of “ohhhhhh” passed through the group. “Ah, that explains why you don’t know about magic groups,” Castillo says. “You’re a bit old for being self-taught, though. Most magicians from outside a magical family find—”

“—find out about the greater magic community when they’re in college, yeah, I know, I’ve heard that speech before,” Marvin says through clenched teeth. “So I’m a few years late, I was busy. Anyway, what are magic groups? Just like, magicians gathered together? Is that allowed? What do the ABIM think?”

Castillo laughs. “The Magic Circle is much older than the Association, they couldn’t get rid of us if they wanted to.” He shrugs. “Well, magic groups aren’t too hard to figure out. It’s just a bunch of magicians gathered together.” He sweeps his arm around the room. “Spells cast by a group are more powerful than just a single magician alone. We share spells with each other, come to each others’ aid in times of magical crisis, study magic together...they say two heads are better than one, you know? Stronger in numbers.”

Marvin nods slowly. “So...what were you doing in the basement?”

“That? That was a combination divination and prosperity spell,” Castillo explains. “Something like that you can only get in a group. It shows us significant events in the next year, then gives us good luck.”

“Never heard of a good luck spell...” Marvin mutters.

“Well, you’ve been practicing on your own, and doing luck spells on your own is a tricky business,” Castillo says. “So now it’s our turn. How’d you get inside?”

Marvin shifts uncomfortably, then reluctantly explains the whole thing with the Magic Minds spell and the invisibility.

“Ohhh, I know that spell!” One of the magicians says excitedly. “But you’re supposed to include your target’s full name in the incantation, otherwise it’ll just lead you to the nearest magician.”

“Why were you looking for magicians?” Another one asks.

Marvin looks down. Now that the time has come for it, he’s kind of embarrassed. “I dunno, I...sort of wanted help with this grimoire thing. But it’s stupid. Nevermind.”

“Huh? What kind of help?” Castillo asks. “You know the Magic Minds spell and an invisibility spell, you seem pretty knowledgeable.”

Marvin scowls. “Well, apparently, it needs to be in a book, not online at all. Which is fucking dumb. Why do I have to copy it all over?! It’s all already there!”

“Have you tried listening to a podcast while doing it?” One of the magicians suggests. “It gives you something to focus on.”

Castillo chuckles. “Well, if it’s a problem with focus, I don’t know if magicians specifically could help.”

“Shut up,” Marvin mutters. “Maybe there’s a spell to copy it all over for me—”

“If you found one, let me know, will you?” Castillo jokes.

Marvin glares at him, then stands up. “Well, I’m sorry for interrupting your Magic Circle shit, I’ll just go now, because clearly this was a stupid fucking idea—”

“Hey wait!” Castillo stands up as well. “What’s your name, bro?”

“Don’t call me bro!” Marvin growls. “But it’s Marvin. Marvin Moore.”

“Wait holy shit like Marvin the Magnificent?!” A magician says excitedly. Marvin recognizes him as the James one. “You had real magic the whole time?! No wonder people couldn’t figure out your tricks!”

Marvin can’t help but smile proudly at that. “Hell yeah, people loved it.”

“Well, Mr. Moore, you have some powerful magic in you,” Castillo says admirably. “You bypassed all the wards I set up here without even trying.” He walks over to a table with drawers, pulling one open and taking out a pen and notebook. After scribbling something down, he tears out the page, and walks back over to hand it to Marvin. “This is all our information, and my personal phone number. If you ever have a group you want to join, call us, okay?”

“Oh! Do it!” James encourages. “Then we’ll be thirteen, it’ll be the ideal number for most spells! And we’ll have a famous guy in our chapter!”

“Hey, let him make his own decision,” a nearby magician says.

Marvin scans the information from the paper. There could be benefits to joining a magic group...one of which being that he’ll finally have more than five people to talk to. And were these spells cast by groups really more powerful? A familiar feeling starts to grow inside him, a feeling of wanting to know, of wanting to be the best. That feeling led him astray in the past, got him mixed up in branches of magic he probably shouldn’t have been involved in. But if he’s with other people, it’ll be different, right? He hesitates for just one moment longer, then asks, “Hey, so uh, what if I’ve already made my decision?”

———————

The next day, Marvin finds himself sitting at his desk once more, with his laptop and his unfinished grimoire before him. But there were also a couple other things as well. A slim book, its cover decorated with the same sort of symbols he’d seen written in that circle of salt, and a sphere of black crystal. “Consider these your entrance-level gifts,” Castillo had said. “I don’t know how familiar you are with the types of magic the Circle likes to use, so this’ll be your beginner’s course.”

Marvin actually isn’t familiar with these branches of magic at all. And that makes this book all the more fascinating. It contains a guide to the symbols they use, the principles of the magic, and a few basic spells. Interestingly, it seems to be derived from alchemy. Or maybe it is alchemy, Marvin doesn’t know. He’d never had any reason to look up what alchemy was before this.

He sets the book down, taking a moment to pick up his new crystal ball and look it over. He can already think of several uses for this, but that might have to wait until later. For now, he really needs to at least make some progress on the grimoire.

And where better to start than with the new, interesting spells? It’s sure to keep his focus if he’s copying down information he’s never heard before. Marvin puts the crystal ball down and picks up his pen. But before he starts writing, he puts on his headphones. Listening to a podcast, huh? Maybe that will help.

He can feel that something new is in the air. Something is changing. Marvin had never worked with other magicians before. The prospect is both exciting and a little nerve-wracking. But however this ends, he knows now that things will be different from here on, in some way or another. And he’s certainly excited to find out.

[lovelivingmydreams]

The next day: Good morning

Part One: Wrong door Part two: As adults Part Three: A thousand miles

A new morning has arrived and the sides awaken to their new normal. How do they deal?

The sound of an alarm echoed through the hallways of the mindscape, but went largely ignored. In the dreamscape a father looked up from his spot next to a teacher who was taking careful notes of their surroundings. Which probably making the dreams more vivid in the process. In the darker corners of the mind, only one side truly woke up from the alarm an got up to prepare for the day ahead. The other two grunted displeased and turned around… but neither before tossing something at the wall as if that would stop the unpleasant noise. In the room where fears and doubts reside the shadow’s stirred at the sound, but the one who was supposed to urge Thomas to wake up and address all their concerns was not there. He laid in a room that was about to become a scene from numerous Disney classics. Bluebirds opened the curtains to the royal bedchambers so the prince could assist Thomas in getting ready for the day. They could’ve spared themselves the trouble. Thomas –who’d set his alarm the previous morning and forgotten all about it when he went to bed –turned it off and went right back to sleep. Virgil, knowing that Thomas had no obligations for at least the next 48 hours, just buried his head deeper into the pillow and ignored everything. Including the birds and the light and the fact that he was definitely not in his room. Not knowing what to do the birds awaited orders of their prince who slowly blinked himself awake. Roman currently occupied as much space in his king sized bed as humanly possible. When his eyes adjusted to the light he stretched a little, feeling a slight tug at the bottom of his shirt as he moved. He looked down and found Virgil curled up at the far edge of the bed with one hand reaching out and holding onto the fabric of his sleeping shirt to assure himself of his presence. In the light of day he could see that when Virgil manifested in his sleepwear, his make-up vanished, allowing Roman to really see the other sides’ face for the first time in almost twenty years. In the mindscape the sides’ physical appearance varied a little more than in the real world. Roman was the tallest of them, Patton and Logan both were about Thomas’ height and Virgil stood an inch shorter, at least he did when he stood straight, which was almost never. Patton had freckles everywhere and his dirty blond hair was curly. Logan’s skin was spotless and a little pale. His dark hair was always combed back neatly and cut shorter than Thomas’. Roman’s skin was tanned and his chestnut hair had a slight elegant sweep to it and he always combed it out of his face, got to show off the moneymaker after all. Virgil was the only one of them who had stuck to Thomas’ real hairstyle, except he let the bangs go straight down his face, and ever since Thomas colored it for the first time Virgil kept the purple as his new signature look. Roman had opted not to paint his hair ‘full rainbow’ because he wanted to allow Virgil to stand out in his own way. The anxious side was paler than the rest of them but under that white foundation he had a rosy color to his skin and freckles dotting the area under his eyes. Roman knew this, Virgil didn’t start wearing make-up or hoodies until after he moved to the other side. Which was exactly what made Roman so happy to see this. Underneath that broody exterior, his old friend was, and always had been, the same person he’d had so much fun with back when things were simple. He hoped Virgil had at least slept decently after practically being forced to spend the night here. Virgil was a creature of habits, they comforted him, that much Roman had learned. This unexpected change couldn’t be pleasant. He looked up to the helpful little creatures at his window who were wondering what to do. He gave them a gentle smile and signaled that they could go, he didn’t need their help this morning. They bowed and closed the curtains on their way out. Roman, knowing he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, slowly sat up straighter. He made sure not to disturb Virgil. He deserved every second of sleep he could get. He, Patton and Logan all had been horrified to learn that Virgil rarely allowed himself to really sleep. Technically they didn’t need to sleep, or eat or do anything Thomas needs to do to stay alive. They have no real bodies that can starve or get exhausted. But mental exhaustion is still very real, they all had to at least take a nap every once in a while. It wasn’t like ducking out. Even asleep they remained part of Thomas’ being. But it weakened their influence slightly. Virgil, apparently, was so stressed about something going wrong while he was asleep that he always postponed it as long as he could. So perhaps mental health days would be a good thing for Virgil too. Maybe he could relax today and have some fun without half of his mind being with whatever Thomas was currently doing. Speaking of having fun… Roman summoned a notepad and started writing down ideas for what Thomas could do today. Fun activities that had no goal or obligation other than to recharge all of their batteries so they could tackle the next challenge at full strength. Not too intense for Virgil, yet stimulating enough for Logan and wholesome and cute for Patton. And somehow entertaining for Janus and Remus as well. Well there is that book Thomas meant to read, it came highly recommended, but there never seemed to be time to really sit down and read it. And there were a couple of puzzles he’d bought for slow days. One in particular had lots of cute animals in it that Patton would love. There was the Lego Disney castle… Oh, playing Kingdom Hearts would be fun. That one was probably best for everyone. Challenging for Logan, but not so stressful that it would trigger Virgil. Patton loved the whole hearts and friendship storyline. And he was sure that Janus could appreciate the many layers to the story or whatever. Remus definitely liked the heartless. And, personally, he could never resist anything that involved Disney. Especially when they could play the hero who saved all their beloved characters from evil. They could definitely spend a few of their hours on that. Now for food… Well there was their Hello Fresh delivery... But Thomas might not feel like cooking at all. Best have a plan b, just in case. They still had some time to donate their order and if necessary they could keep today’s delivery for tomorrow and donate that one instead. Roman, realizing what he was doing, couldn’t help but chuckle at himself. Look at him making contingencies… Virgil is rubbing of on him. He shouldn’t bring his plan b up to Thomas unless it was needed though. Once the idea of ordering some comfort food was on the table, cooking would look even less appealing and Thomas had been doing so well on cooking his own meals. And cooking for himself made Thomas feel in control of his own life and Patton was always proud of him when he did that. It was slightly more stressful for Virgil, but not that much more than having some stranger handle their food did. Besides, less social interaction would probably be appreciated. And eating healthy counts as self care right? What else? Well, Thomas could watch a few movies. Roman wanted to give him enough things to do today that didn’t require their full and undivided attention. That way, all of them could do some things for fun too. He could take Virgil on a tour in the imagination. Maybe they could even talk with Remus. He was pretty much alone now. Sure there was… Him. But he didn’t really count. From the one time Roman and Virgil had talked about downstairs, Virgil had made it clear that even the ‘dark sides’ didn’t like to go anywhere near him. He wasn’t going to leave his brother alone with that guy regardless. It wouldn’t be fair. Remus couldn’t help the way he was. Janus had simply set him loose and he’d gone a little overboard. Sure, Roman had been mad about it at the time, but he’d gotten over it. Remus had even checked in on him when Roman ventured near the border later that day. He’d been rather pleasant about it all and seemed even slightly worried he’d done permanent damage. It was veiled in insults about his intelligence and looks of course. Still, it was a nice sentiment he had come to appreciate. And it was more than Janus had ever offered. So as long as Remus promised to refrain from using violence against him or his friends, Roman could learn to live with his brother again. If Virgil was okay with that. He would not make such a decision over his head. He’d lived with Remus for years, it should be up to him if he wanted to do so again. He tore off the page with suggestions for Thomas and wrote down things he wanted to do himself. It was a ‘take care of yourself day’ after all. So with his part in taking care of Thomas done he focused on recharging his own batteries. He glanced down at Virgil. He better make a plan b in case Virgil doesn’t feel like spending the day with him and Remus. One thing he is sure of, he doesn’t want to be alone today. And he doesn’t really want to be around Janus or Patton if he doesn’t have to be. He could hang out with Remus in the imagination if Virgil really didn’t want to be around other sides today. Before long he had a list of activities he could be doing with his chosen company and things he could do alone should he find himself without other options. He really hoped Virgil was up for a visit to the imagination though. He’d been wanting to ask for ages, but there never seemed to be a right time. Now that Remus might be coming along… Well it might take some of the pressure off for Virgil if he wasn’t the only new visitor. He just had to take things one step at a time. Suddenly he felt the grip on his shirt disappear and he looked down to find Virgil curling up entirely for a moment before letting out a yawn, rolling on his stomach and stretching himself out. Roman bit back a comment about how much Virgil resembled a kitten in that moment. It wouldn’t be appreciated. “Morning pumpkin king,” he greeted playfully. Virgil blinked a few times and then pushed himself up until he sat cross-legged on the bed. “Morning Princey,” he replied only half awake, rubbing at his eyes. “I hope my accommodations were to your liking?” Roman offered as he summoned a piece of parchment and a feather to copy down the ideas he wanted Thomas to consider. It was necessary if he wanted his ideas to come through clearly. Quickly scrabbled notes got jumbled along the way until there was only a vague notion of a plan left. Just the wish to do something. But when it was written out carefully on parchment, then it was a plan clear as day. “Um, yeah. Slept fine… how are you?” Virgil verified tentatively. Roman looked up from his writing to send him an appreciative  smile. He didn’t insult the openness they’d shared last night by hiding the weariness of his eyes, or overplaying his smile to camouflage the slight worry lines that appeared when he felt less than his charming self. “I’m better. Not alright, but better,” he told him honestly. Virgil contemplated that for a minute and then nodded to himself. “Good… What are you working on?” he asked then, buying them both some time before they’d have to talk about last night and what awaited them today. “Well… Logan might make the work schedules, but I’m in charge of what happens. Mostly. So I wrote a few options. Once this is done my day off starts though,” he glances down at Virgil sternly. “As does yours,” he reminds him sternly and Virgil chuckles, throwing his hands up in surrender. “Alright, I promise!” Then he scoots a little closer to look at what Roman is writing. “KH sounds like fun,” he mutters casually as he leaned back and studied the star covered ceiling. Unbeknownst to Virgil, his voiced approval added his sigil next to that idea. “I thought we’d all like that one best.” With a flourish Roman signed the paper and let it vanish up to the outer layer of the conscious where it would get everyone else’s attention and votes until Thomas made a real decision. It was quite literally out of Roman’s hands what would happen now. And for once he was okay with that. It felt freeing in a way, to let go of an idea and let it be what it would be. He stared at the space where the paper had been seconds ago, contemplating how he could ask Virgil to spent the day in the imagination. “Hey, Ro?” Virgil said quietly getting the performer’s attention. “Yes?” “If you ever doubt if Thomas still thinks of you as a hero… Ask me, not Janus,” That… Wasn’t what he expected. “Alright. Why?” Roman asked confused, mirroring Virgil’s cross-legged position and properly turning on the bed to face him. “Like I said. Whatever Janus says, you never know by what rules he’s playing, when he’s sincere. And… If anyone knows how Thomas might be feeling about his hero… It’d be me.” Roman blinked surprised at that, the awkward blush on his brooding friend’s face didn’t help his confusion. “I mean… It’s… Remember the middle school writings and stuff we looked at back when we all visited Patton’s room?” Virgil muttered, avoiding Roman’s gaze by studying one of his posters. “Yes. It helped me realize just how much I created to… Calm you down, I suppose,” Roman admitted, now feeling a little embarrassed himself. Neither of them was used to this sort of conversation. Last night Roman had been too upset to really care about being vulnerable and Virgil had been too worried. Now, now they both sat here with a clear head and no choice but to be aware of the fact that they were both admitting to caring about one another. Which was a huge step up from the playful ‘I barely tolerate you’ atmosphere they usually had where such sentiments were ‘an understood thing’. Virgil was his best friend, there was no doubt in Roman’s mind about that. And maybe they both should tell each other these things more often. It seemed like their resident guardian angel was about to do just that. Unless Roman was misreading the situation. Virgil nodded. “Right… I mean, I know I really started to act like a villain back then… But we’ve established that my… ‘Fits’ were me being worried and trying to get you guys to pay attention to the dangers I saw… I was scared too. And when Patton and Logan weren’t sure what to do because, well, puberty had them both in a mess.” Roman nodded. Logan struggled to make sense of everything back then and Patton… Well it wouldn’t surprise anyone to hear that the heart is all over the place in ones teen years. “You still rose to the challenge to make Thomas, and me, feel safe and somewhat in control of things. As at odds as we were… As mad as I tried to be with you. You were my hero as much as you where Thomas’. If anyone is going to notice when he stops looking up to you, stops feeling calmer when you’re in his corner, it’ll be me… and for what it’s worth, you’ll always be mine. Even if Thomas completely loses his mind somehow, because that’s the only way I see him ever stop looking up to you the way he does…” Finally Virgil looked back at Roman with a beet red face and an annoyed expression. “Now, stop being so mopey. I’m not good at this comforting stuff and I never want to be so mushy again alright? It messes with my image,” he huffed. Roman couldn’t help the smile at that. Virgil was obviously compensating for the vulnerable moment and he could respect that. But his words had calmed so much of his nerves. He nodded in agreement. “I shall do my best. Thank you, my lavender compatriot,” he sighed as he reached out and laid a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “I can’t tell you how much I needed that.” Knowing that he shouldn’t push the physical affection, Virgil probably had his fill of that for the week, he simply squeezed the other side’s shoulder and withdrew his arm. Virgil rolled his eyes playfully. “No problem Princey,” Virgil assured him. “Just leave the doctor dooming to me in the future okay? If you lose your sparkle… Who’s going to make Thomas believe in himself? Not me, that’s for certain. And Logan is a little too frank about odds and the like and Patton… Well, no one really believes it when their dad says they can do something, not if they don’t believe it a little themselves first at least,” he reminded Roman. The prince nodded thoughtfully. “And no one is going to believe anything Janus says. Even if he dressed up as you it wouldn’t last long.” That remark brought back a question Roman has had since Janus revealed himself to Thomas for the first time. “Hey Virge? How well do you know Janus?” Virgil frowned and shrugged. “I used to think I knew all about him. But lately… I don’t know. Why?” “Well, I get most of his schemes now, but there’s one thing I can’t figure out, and I just thought you’d be the best one to ask.” Virgil chuckles. “Just one thing huh?” he teased. Roman rolled his eyes good naturedly, knowing Virgil didn’t really think he was slow witted. In truth they were all just as intelligent as Thomas and their boy was a smart cookie. Most of them were just easily distracted. Well all of them except for Logan and Janus. “Shut up scarecrow,” he huffed in mock annoyance. “Seriously though. Why did he impersonate Logan again? Wouldn’t it make more sense to assume a new role? One he was more familiar with? I mean, if ‘you’ had popped up and gone into a panicked rant about Thomas’ own wellbeing conflicting with Patton’s stance on good or bad. Maybe even throwing in a dramatic realization that you are ‘still bad’ for thinking like that… It probably would have been even more effective than ‘Logan’ laying down the law.” Roman bit his lip at the thought of how that would have broken Patton, the very thought of hurting Virgil like that, especially since their relationship had been a bit rocky as of late. How it would have affected him and Thomas to see Virgil panic. To see how much this whole thing was truly bothering both the edge lord and Thomas himself laid bare before them. Even when Janus revealed himself later, the thought of Virgil truly feeling like that would have been planted. Roman would probably have hurried to Virgil’s room by choice before even confronting Janus to make sure Virgil wasn’t crumbling under the pressure. “I don’t know if it’d be the bombshell you think it is,” Virgil shrugged. Roman wanted to object to that, but he could tell that Virgil was considering his question and gave him time to sort through his thoughts. “I don’t know for sure. Part of me wants to believe it’s for my sake? Out of respect for what’s left of our friendship. Maybe out of hope that there is still something to be salvaged?” he explained, looking off into the distance thoughtfully. “Maybe he just didn’t want to risk pissing me off. He knows what I get like when I’m really mad,” he shrugged dismissively as he got out of bed and stretched himself out. Roman followed his example and let the silence linger for a moment. “What if he does though? What if he tries to talk to you wearing my face? Or to get my guard down by wearing yours?” he whispered. He didn’t want to have to wonder about who he’s really talking to for the rest of his life. Virgil frowned at that for a minute. “How about a signal? To show we are really ourselves or that we need help? That way I can let you know when I’m feeling overwhelmed and you can use it when something someone said is hurting you without having to get everyone all over us,” he suggested. Roman nodded eagerly. Not just happy with the assurance that he’d always be able to spot Janus’ games from now on, but also because the idea of being able to get Virgil’s aid when keeping up a strong face got too hard felt infinitely reassuring. “That sounds excellent… How about we use our witty banter to our advantage?” Virgil nodded in agreement. “When you want to check if I’m me or if I think Janus is in the room at all, make a reference to MCR song titles or band members. When you need my help…” Roman already had an idea for that. “I’ll call you by a title. ‘Sir Surley Jackson’, ‘lord of the sighs’, that kind of stuff. How do I know it’s you?” Virgil grinned mischievously. “I’ll reply with a MCR lyric reference.” Roman gasped in pretend shock as he dramatically laid a hand over his heart. “So this was all a ploy to get me to listen to your Emo music was it?” he demands in an accusatory tone, but the slight smirk on his lips proves that he is indeed not serious. “You know it. If I suspect someone is being impersonated I’ll direct the reference to the possible fake. If the coast is clear entirely I’ll direct it at you.” Roman nodded. It was a rather ingenious system. No one would question why Virgil tried to direct attention away from himself at any given moment. And if Roman ‘took the bait’ and shot out jests at the person in question to trip them up it wouldn’t alarm anyone either. “Alright. How about when you feel overwhelmed you reference a color. Any color.” He didn’t think it would be wise to ask Virgil to get very creative at times like these. He could easily make a jab at his ‘pitch black soul’ or something along those lines even when thinking started to get harder. “Sounds good… If I ever doubt you are you, I’ll reference a Disney villain,” he suggested. “And I’ll shoot back with a reference to one of the songs from the movie in question!” Roman beamed, feeling confident in the system. It was both simple and subtle. The other’s wouldn’t catch on any time soon. “Oh, and if you spot Janus while I’m unaware, just refer to my ego at the first opportunity,” Roman suggested. He was usually the slowest on these things. His fanciful thoughts rarely allowing him to truly remain in the present. “Okay,” Virgil nodded. He patted Roman’s shoulder. “We’ll keep him safe Ro, together,” he assured him before putting his hand back in his lap. “I know we will…” Roman smiled. Struck once again with how much their dynamic had changed over the years he sighs deeply. There is one last thing he needs to say to move forward. To continue with nothing but honesty between them. “Virgil… About the way I treated you back when…” he started, but Virgil put up a hand. “Water under the bridge. I wasn’t the nicest person either. We’ve both moved well past this,” the dark clad side shrugged as he prepared to pop over to his room to freshen up before he had to face the others. He was stopped however by a hand grabbing the back of his shirt. “No, I’m not going to apologize… I mean, I am sorry, but I know that just saying that doesn’t mean a thing…” Roman caught himself spiraling off topic and redirected his focus. Meanwhile Virgil had turned back towards him and was looking at him with curious eyes. Roman hadn’t been prepared for how frightening it would be to have Virgil look at him like that. No edgy make up to mask his true emotions… it nearly made Roman back off. But he couldn’t. His actions moving forward would be the only way he could earn forgiveness, regardless of whether he’d already received it or not, and he wasn’t going to back out of any step forward they could take. “But I wanted to tell you… I blamed myself, back then. I blamed myself for you running away and hating me and not wanting to be around us anymore and taking it out on Thomas…” He gave Virgil a reassuring smile when he saw the younger side tense at that last part. “I know that you didn’t actually intend any harm, but at the time, that’s what the whole title change and everything looked like to me. What I wanted to do was talk to you, apologize and get you to come back. But I was scared. I was scared you’d reject me, I was scared to hear you say that it really was all my fault… It was easier to pretend you were the bad guy. That I didn’t care about you… Just like…” he took a deep breath. This was hard to say, but he had to. He cast his eyes downwards as his shame over his actions slowly overwhelmed him with guilt. “Just like how I pretend I never cared much for Remus rather than missing him because, until now, there was no way he would be allowed back to our side of the conscious. Thomas wanted to forget him, so I had to want that too. Thomas didn’t like feeling scared or anxious, so I had to defend him from your influence. I didn’t hate you, never that. But it was easier to think of you as my opponent than to miss the friend I failed to protect.” It was quite for a few moments. “Ro… I was just as afraid. I wanted to be friends again for ages too, but I was afraid things could never go back to how they were. Or that they would and I’d be unable to protect Thomas right out of fear to mess up again. And I know that Remus missed you too. And he is just as guilty of not reaching out as you are. We all are. Let’s just not make that mistake again alright?” Roman lit up at that. “You’d be okay with it if I asked Remus to come live upstairs again?” he asked hopefully. Virgil straightened himself and nodded firmly. It’s the most confident Roman has ever seen him about anything. It was almost a bit defiant, of who he wasn’t sure. “It’s time to get rid of closed doors,” Virgil stated. That gave Roman pause. “But… Won’t He come up then too?” he whispered as if speaking too loud would evoke the ire of the He in question. Virgil scoffed. “I doubt it. Not unless he feels he is strong enough to take us all in a fight. And Thomas is nowhere near the point where that is an issue,” Virgil shrugged dismissively. And if Virgil wasn’t worried, then Roman knew things would be alright. At least for the foreseeable future. “Alright I’m off… I’ll walk you to breakfast?” Virgil suggested carefully, his whole self assured demeanor falling away and returning him to more of his normal self. Though he was still more vulnerable than usual. Clearly he was still worried for Roman’s mental state or something. The offer made a weight fall of off Roman’s shoulders he didn’t even know was there in the first place. “Okay. I’ll get ready too then,” he nodded as he walked Virgil to the door. Virgil would most likely just teleport to his room, but it was the principle of the gesture. He was not going to be a poor host. Virgil gave him a nod and a two fingered salute before disappearing straight to his room. Roman sighed and then headed to the shower to get ready for the day.

Next up: Together breakfast

@cdragontogacotar​, @the-classy-ghost, @smallwaffle224​, @amberpeltsstuff​, @altheaudaku​, @atdffpetra, @lavenderchaitea​, @kuroyurishion @marguii-14​, @sweetlyprofoundphantom​, @beepbeep-imscared​, @rubixcubes-and-crowbars​, @perfectly-princely-emo-nightmare, @xxmoonmorquanxx​, @pdvzh2​, @cthulhudonuts​, @k-chanthecrator, @meowthefluffy​, @rylan-sucks​, @artemisontumb-lr, @nadja-chamack16​, @friskthefallenmonster​, @justgivemehugs, @naturallyunstablegamer​, @greekgeekgoddess, @wherearealltheusernam3s, @intellectual-punk, @ciannathegiver58, @stubbornness-and-spite, @babygirllovelys-blog, @baby-bunny1221, @lucasdrawblog, @andear, @fatherminion, @potatiowatchingyoutube, @mygenderisbees, @chibibunnis, @hi-fellow-demons, @ayidakira, @softballobsessed, @crackedcurse, @hickledickle, @your-local-fanboy-here, @ssimplification, @virgofoxy, @iwispkid, @alias290, @devoteddeceit, @parttimeliar, @maya-custodios-dionach, @booksfoodmusic-minion, @she-wants-me-dead, @hetacon, @aelingalathynius6, @theblackveilinreverse, @impalasquiptyseven, @confused-i-and-ready-to-die, @onecannotbebrave, @maryann-draws, @emo-nightmare-without-the-emo, @myspatialspace, @liveonmercury, @such-as-we-are-made-such-we-be, @afrostedfeather, @superspoopyspacealien, @muffin-2008, @alicethetrueunicorn, @hedgiehoggles, @errors-in-my-heart, @contemplativespectrum, @fandoms1reality0, @frida0043, @angelic-cali, @xxstill-i-risexx, @nina-maee, @s0n-of-a-peach, @floofyconfusednerd

[theres-no-protocol-for-this]

Necessary Repairs

Part III. I don’t even know if you have to read any of the other parts. SecUnit should probably have slept through most of its own healing, but that’s not this machine’s luck.

Part I | Part II

At some indeterminate point later, I woke up.

I was receiving minimal sensory data, and none of it was sight-related. A diagnostic subroutine spun up and casually began sending me bursts of error messages I couldn't even begin to translate.

Oh, and the world was pitch black.

It took me more than five seconds to determine that the darkness was self-inflicted and open my eyes. Longer still for the random noise to resolve into sounds I could understand -- the hum of an air circulation system, at least two distinct voices, and an automated warning system. My connection to the feed stabilized, but the walls that normally guarded my mind against its onslaught were conspicuously absent.

Something else was shielding me, something big and surprisingly gentle.

Friend?

I could feel cold metal under my back and head, probably the medical suite platform. My internal temperature refused to rise, so I was shivering and couldn't stop. It felt like I was still leaking, and the pain ebbed and flowed with each passing moment.

“Would you like me to turn up the heat?” Transport asked.

Yes. Where the hell am I?

I felt a mild shock as the governor kicked in. It hadn't liked my tone, apparently, or the phrasing of my answer, and wasn't shy about letting me know. The standard code read, "you're outside of protocol and need to adjust your attitude."

Silently, I cursed the damn thing. I was getting used to life without it.

A moment later, Transport answered, "SecUnit, you're still in medical, and your performance rating, while stable, remains abysmally low."

The ship paused and sent me a couple of data packets that succinctly described all the things still wrong -- which was most of them. I should've probably remained in stasis, but the medical unit was calibrated for humans. So, it hadn't given me nearly enough sedative to knock out the organic parts of a construct for any appreciable amount of time.

I was awake, kind of.

"I'm waiting for your vital signs to improve," Transport added. "Until then, would you like to watch an episode of that one show you liked?"

Yes, please.

The ship's calm tone reassured me, even though everything else looked like shit. My diagnostics were coming back with nonsense, still. The governor couldn't find a SecSystem to connect with. The Traveler didn't have or need one of those; it had a skeleton HubSystem instead managed security, life support, and logistics. My inflexible governor couldn't figure out how to interface with it.

Surprise, surprise...

It fell back on some preprogrammed garbage, complete with a minimal set of actions and responses. "Yes, please" and "No, thank you" was probably the best I could manage at the moment without incurring its wrath. I'd try poking at it later when my performance no longer looked quite so dramatically sad.

Captain Owens pulled up a chair and sat down where she could see me. Transport shared the view from one of its cameras, so now I could see her, too. It also queued up an episode of a long-running serial and waited for the captain before it started playing. I wanted to ask about the hostiles but couldn't -- thanks governor -- and Transport didn't seem inclined to enlighten me.

I suppose it was only fair; it was doing its best to keep me calm.

MedSystem sorted out the sleeping issue in the meantime and had injected more sedatives into my resupply channel, so sleep was happening shortly, whether I liked it or not. I could practically feel my diagnostics slowing down to a crawl since they relied on data from my organic parts, which were affected by the drugs.

"Good afternoon, SecUnit. I'm glad to see you're awake." The captain nodded in my direction and then turned toward someone I couldn't see. "As I mentioned, thanks to SecUnit, we came out of the boarding attempt in one piece. I'm sorry to hear your ship wasn't as lucky."

A stranger in formal wear came into camera view as he approached Owens. I figured he was the owner of that second voice I hadn't been able to identify earlier. The logo on his tunic looked familiar, but I couldn't place it. Parts of my memory felt like tangled network cables.

"Indeed, but this is still better than nothing. I don't suppose you've already contacted your bonding company?"

The captain's face scrunched up in confusion. "We're insured outside of the Corporation Rim," she explained. "I've sent a message, but I'm here pretty much on my own."

Outside of the Rim, everything appeared to work in ways that were incompatible with corporation control.  A lot of the propaganda around freehold planets implied they were a complete shitshow. Except, clearly, the Traveler was doing just fine.

I had a sudden burst of "bad feeling" in my organic neural tissue. Something about the newcomer didn't sit right with me. I thought it might be unwise for the captain to tell him anything about herself or her ship.

"No, thank you." It sounded like my voice, but I didn't remember speaking. Hi buffer, I thought I'd never see you again.

The newcomer gave me a puzzled glance. "So, where'd you get your unit then?"

Owens shrugged and schooled her expression. I'd seen that face before when she'd spoken to her daughter before our first jump. "I rented it from a friend, as a security consultant. It's doing a great job."

I was?

I mean, the human was alive, and the Traveler had an intact hull, so I guess things weren't terrible. I could practically hear the Transport laughing on a private channel. If I could roll my eyes, I probably would have, but the governor frowned on that sort of thing, and my eyes had closed minutes ago.

"I see. Well, if you wouldn't mind giving us a hand with repairs, we can both be on our way." The man watched the captain like a hawk. "I would also recommend getting your unit checked out at a licensed repair station when you get a chance. With this level of damage, there's no telling what other problems are hiding under the surface."

As far as statements go, it was polite enough, but I didn't like it. It sounded to me like a threat.

Performance rating dropping. Initiating emergency shutdown.

I really would prefer you didn't.

***

Memory fragment:

The mining installation doesn't inspire confidence. There are eight of us and two combat models. Ten security units should be enough to keep a workforce of 153 miners and a dozen more supervisors in line. Everything looks worn and rundown, including the humans.

Protocol dictates that we take shifts. A human has created a schedule to which we adhere. The two combat units are mixed in with the rest of us.

It's my patrol shift. I walk through one of the mining shafts and stop at the far end. I can hear a supervisor arguing with two of her employees—something about the rocks they've uncovered. I turn around, ready to head back to the primary installation, when one of the combat units walks up to the three humans.

It has been summoned by the supervisor.

The supervisor tells it to fire on the workers. It does, without question. Bodies crumple to the floor. Then, the supervisor notices me.

***

Transport popped into my feed. "Wake up, SecUnit. How're you feeling?"

"Like I got shot."

The words were out before I could consider the consequences, and I braced for an electric shock -- or worse. Nothing happened. Performance reliability was at 87% and rising steadily. My diagnostics routines had run several times, and the results looked promising. I was also no longer leaking, and most of my organic parts had grown back.

I had two arms again. That was nice.

Transport shared a smiling sigil. Reason unknown. "You did get shot, silly. MedSystem patched you up pretty well. If you're up to it, my captain and I could use your help." It paused and added, "Captain suggested that you might want payment in exchange for services rendered. That's how it works in CR, right?"

I had my doubts about anything actually working in the Corporation Rim. Still, arguing with a clearly sentient ship about theoretical economics didn't sound appealing. I'd rather get shocked again.

"OK," I said aloud and sat up. "Priority question: who was here earlier?"

"Dr. Alexander Soren is the current captain of an ArialHydra exploration vessel. They are stranded in this sector after a pirate attack. Captain Owens speculates that it may be the same group of pirates. We were lucky to have you on board."

Lucky. Right.

I shoved off the platform and crumpled to the floor in a pile of arms and legs. Hi there, limbs. A few minutes later, I managed to get up and stumble around under my own power. I admit to sitting on the floor and trying out my new arm. It didn't have a cannon -- MedSystem didn't have the required parts -- but it was fully functional, otherwise.

"I've seen Dr. Soren before." I couldn't remember where. That bothered me.

"Perhaps you were deployed on one of his survey missions?"

"I don't know."

One of the ship's drones floated into the room, carrying spare clothing, which it dropped directly on my head. I grabbed at the falling fabric and started getting dressed. It was the Traveler's standard-issue uniform, beige and blue and generally not hideous. I missed the protective qualities of armor, but it would've been weird to wander through the ship's pristine, carpeted halls with it on.

Captain Owens walked into the medical room and waved at me and the drone. "I see you're both here and scheming."

"We're not scheming, and technically, I'm everywhere," Transport informed us.

"I don't think you should trust Dr. Soren," I blurted out.

Owens narrowed her eyes. "Do you know anything you'd care to share?"

I shook my head. Constructs don't get gut feelings -- we don't even have a gut to have them with -- and my memories of any encounters with the doctor had been removed. Memory wipes aren't typical, but occasionally, a bonding company or a manufacturer/repair company decides they're necessary. I've had at least one that I know about. I also had no idea how to explain that my organic neurons probably remembered things the rest of me didn't.

"Well, in that case, has Trav told you what we need?" At my puzzled expression, the captain said, "We gave the other ship supplies, and they're almost ready to depart. And they're making a fuss about..." She sighed. "Something. I really don't care. They'll be coming back aboard in a few hours to discuss whatever it is. And I would feel much better if you were there. Just in case. And only if you're feeling up to it."

Protecting humans was literally the only thing I liked about my job. "OK."

"Great. Do you want a weapon?"

"Depends on how threatening you want me to look." Any weapon I wielded would be for show unless the human was in danger. And if she was, I had a miniature cannon hidden inside an arm.

The captain pondered this for a moment. Her face went through a range of expressions that Transport interpreted for me as "Captain Owens thinks the other ship's posturing is stupid and would like to be on her way, but it would be impolite to leave, so here we are." I agreed with the captain's assessment.

Finally, she said, "Let's try without any extra threats and see what happens. The quicker we get this over with, the better."

Transport suggested we spend the time between now and the upcoming meeting watching more of its favorite shows. I agreed.

[chaoticowlpost]

Oh oh, drarry adopting a kitten? ♥️

Okay yes wait I love this and I love you djhfgdsf

--------------------------------------------------

Harry rushed through the crowds frantically, already regretting that he thought it would be a good idea for him and Draco to split up so they could buy what they needed separately and leave as soon as possible.

Draco said he was by Florean Fortescue’s, which Harry hoped meant his boyfriend decided to take a detour and buy some ice cream while waiting. When left alone for too long with nothing to do, Draco was surprisingly impulsive.

And, as his jog slowed to a halt, he found Draco sitting on the sidewalk, next to a box while he chatted animatedly with a teenage girl on a seat next to him. He was, understandably, confused.

“Draco?” he called out once he was close enough and sure that he would be heard. His boyfriend shifted a bit but didn’t turn immediately, which had Harry worried.

Before he could ask, however, Draco spun around slowly, hesitantly, until he was fully facing Harry, a small kitten bundled up in his arms.

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Draco beat him too it. “Please, Harry?” he asked, his gray eyes widening innocently with his lower lip pouted, making him look adorable.

Harry felt his heart stutter and himself hesitate at once, not wanting to shut Draco down immediately.

“No,” he said. “Why would you want a kitten? You can barely take care of yourself enough alone as it is.”

“I’ve never had one,” Draco said, his eyes widening more. 

“They were abandoned by their mother, Mr. Potter,” the girl, whom he identified as the one giving them away, spoke, making him feel even worse. “They’re non-magical, but all very healthy.”

“She’s just a baby,” Draco added, lifting the small, black kitten in his hands up to his chin. As if sensing that the attention were on her, the small creature gave him a tiny mewl, licking it’s nose while looking at him with a matching set of widened eyes.

“It’s a lot of responsibility,” Harry warned. “You’re going to have to train it and everything.”

“It,” Draco hissed, “Is a she. And I can promise you that I’m perfectly capable of taking care of her.”

Harry rolled his eyes. He did feel kinda bad that Draco was alone at home most of the time, since he didn’t actually have to leave to work while Harry had to go to the Ministry. “Fine, but only one.”

Draco shot up to his feet, still carefully cradling the kitten as he wrapped a free arm around Harry, their new pet nestled carefully between them as he gave Harry a sweet kiss.

“I love you!” Draco cheered.

“I love you too.” Despite his hesitance, Harry found himself grinning at Draco’s enthusiasm. 

The girl brought them to the shelter to fill out some papers and, after two agonizing days of watching Draco fret over every item the cat might need, they were finally allowed to take her home.

“So I was thinking,” Harry started, deciding that if they were going to have a pet, he should at least try to be more involved. “We should give her a nice name. Like, I dunno, Amelie.”

“Muffin,” Draco concluded, giving Harry a proud, bright smile.

“Right,” Harry said faintly, nodding as he tried not to laugh. “Muffin. Okay.”

“Welcome home, Muffin!” Draco said excitedly, bursting through the doors of their home while holding the cat close to his chest. “We made it just in time for lunch.”

“I’ll get the food ready,” Harry offered, since it was his turn to cook.

“And I’m going to give Muffin a tour of the house.” Harry really doubted it was necessary, but he wasn’t going to rain of Draco’s parade. He was so happy, and Harry was so whipped. 

He whistled happily as he prepared the food, enjoying hearing little snippets of Draco’s conversation with their new family member as he gave her a tour of the house.

“-and this is where Harry and I sleep. He’s grouchy in the morning, and I’d highly advise that you stay out if here, if only for your own sake.”

“Hey!” Harry protested, not taking his eyes off the frying pan. He heard the faint sounds of Draco’s laughter and smiled to himself. Eventually, he heard Draco and Muffin settle down in the living room, just as he was finishing up.

“Lunch is ready!”

Draco walked in, kitten in hand, and took out a can of cat food they bought the day before, spilling it open into the shiny, new cat dish. 

Except he didn’t stop there.

No. For some strange reason, Draco pulled two chairs next to his and connected them, putting the small, black kitten on the seat next to his and the bowl on the one next over.

“Er....what?” Harry asked dumbfoundedly, watching the cat nip happily at it’s food next to Draco while the blond began putting food onto his plate.

“What?” Draco repeated, looking up at Harry, who was still standing.

“Why is she...?”

“She...?” Draco urged, still not getting it.

“...On the table,” Harry finished with a sigh, trying to understand why his boyfriend was like this.

“Because we’re eating?” Draco responded.

“Love, pets don’t normally eat at the table, you know,” Harry said kindly.

“I know,” Draco shrugged and continued piling food onto his plate. “But she’s special.”

So are you, it seems, Harry thought with a sigh.

“But it’s not exactly...hygienic,” Harry tried, hoping that Draco would just give in and that it wouldn’t be like that every day.

“Fine,” Draco said dramatically. He turned to the feline next to him and picked her up, smiling when she mewled at the fact that she was being pulled away from her food.

“I’m sorry, darling, but you’re going to have to eat on the floor,” Draco frowned, setting her down gently on the floor next to his seat, along with her dish bowl.

Yeah, Harry felt like maybe he was going to regret letting Draco bring a cat home.

Since they had a free day, they spent the entire afternoon snuggled by the television, Draco lying on Harry’s chest while he played with the kitten lying down on his stomach.

“I just don’t think it’s right that he ends up with her in the end,” Harry muttered, eyes still focused on the TV.

“Hmm?” Draco murmured distractedly. When Harry turned his head to face him, he realized that his boyfriend was distracted while he played with the kittens tiny paws.

While strongly endeared, he was also feeling just a tad frustrated that he wasn’t really paying attention to the movie with Harry. It was petty, but he did understand that Draco was still excited with his new pet. 

“Never mind,” he sighed, resigning himself to watching alone, while technically not alone.

The sun began setting outside before any of them realized, and that was when he noticed that Draco had began dozing off on his chest.

“Draco?” he whispered, not wanting to disturb him if he had already fallen asleep.

“Yeah?” Draco mumbled, pressing his face into Harry’s chest. 

“Nothing, I was just going to ask if you wanted to order food for dinner,” Harry replied, thinking of an answer on the spot.

“Oh yeah,” Draco yawned. “Sounds great.”

“Okay.”

“Harry?” Draco looked up, peeking a drowsy eye at him through his mussed hair. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Harry grinned, kissing his boyfriend sweetly on the lips.

The kitten, disturbed by their movements, woke up. It stared at the two of them for a second before walking across Draco’s body, up to Harry’s shoulder before licking him on the cheek.

“She likes you,” Draco grinned, his voice muffled since his mouth was still pressed to Harry’s chest. He felt a light pressure press against him, realizing that Draco had pressed a kiss against the area before placing a soft kiss on top of Draco’s hair.

“She’s not too bad herself.”

-————————————————-

Masterlist

Send a Prompt

Thank you for reading <3

[jay-and-dean]

I don’t need you  Chapter 5 : Home

Dean x reader

Summary : She’s a warrior, she’s a loner. Nothing can stop her, nothing ever had. She doesn’t need Dean, does she ?

This is a request by @magssteenkamp​ that I decided to turn to a serie, see the original request on the serie Masterlist.

Serie Warnings : Swearing (duh). Mention of death. Smut, probably all kind from rough to fluffy, I’ll precise in the chapters if there are specific warnings. Fluff. Angst of course.

Chapter warnings :  Swearing. SMUT, unprotected sex (you are smarter than this !) and I don’t know... a hint of angst and fluff ?

Words : 3.4 k (Yeah, I know... but smut...)

Note : I’ll try to stick to the 3k rule, like for Rescue You

If everything goes as planned, you’ll get one chapter every wednesday (Thanks to @magssteenkamp, I call it WednesJay, lol. Sorry okay, I shut up).

***Want to read more ? => MASTERLIST***

*** I don’t need you MASTERLIST***

_________________________________

5.      HOME

 Dean’s Pov

             She doesn’t say a word.

           Her pale face turned toward the car window, I can see how bad she’s trying to stay strong. If only she knew she doesn’t have too. I will never think she’s not, this woman is among the toughest person I have met, and nothing will change how I see her.

“Y/n…” I say cautiously, my hands tight around the wheel. “Can you tell me what happened ?”

She turns to me, her tired eyes piercing me, she clears her throat and takes a deep breath.

“I… woke up surrounded in flames. They found me, they found my address, my work… And they decided the war wasn’t over” her voice is calm but her body is tense. “I passed out after…” she stops, looking down.

“Yeah…” I just say to encourage her. “I’m glad you woke up in time.”

“They don’t have magic fire so the flames were eating the entire building, people will lose their home, or be hurt or worse…” she turns to stare absent-mindedly at the road. “Then I thought… If they found my apartment, they found my identity, so I ran to the bar and it… They locked the doors from outside and set it on fire. Joe was working this night, Lina too… Because of me, the main hunter shelter of center city burned, with the hunters in it.”

“It’s not your fault” I state, knowing this won’t reach her heart ; I heard that a thousand times myself, and never believed it.

“And the cops, they will make the link” she continues, ignoring my words. “I’m used to hide, but not both from monsters and the authorities.”

“They won’t find you, I’ll make sure of that.”

           She doesn’t answer but her stomach gurgles loudly.

“When was the last time you ate ?”

“I don’t know… Two days ago or something like that” she opens her hand to stare intensely at her palm. “I didn’t call you right away… I wanted to get through this myself but…”

“Hey Y/n, you can’t do this alone, no matter how… well badass you are. You need a team. I am your team now… We are. And you need to eat.”

“I have nothing left, Dean, not a cent, not a toothbrush, and all my work is gone” she sighs.

“I have fake credit cards and a home I don’t have to pay. Sweetheart, let me share.”

             I turn right, to that mall big ads praise for a few miles now, trying to make believe you could find everything that could built your happiness here.

In our case, maybe that’s actually true.

While she gets out of the car, her hands around herself, looking to the entrance in a frown, I grab my bag on the backseat, and find the green jacket I was looking for.

“Here” I state, giving it to her.

She hesitates but takes it in a sigh after a look to her corset, and the goosebumps on her skin.

“Thank you, Dean…”

I smile.

I know it’s a pretty awful time to smile but I can’t help it, being able to take care of her just makes me happy somehow.

           This place is huge, colorful, noisy, and I’m pretty sure she hates it as much as I do. But we need a few items.

“Take this” I say, handing her one of my fake credit cards. “First we eat something, then we go buy the things you need to stay with us a few days or weeks” I state, not giving her any choice to decline my offer.

           She just nods, biting her lips. She’s not used to ask for help, and I can see how uncomfortable that makes her, so I try to act as casual as I can, even with my heart pounding in my chest because of that pain I feel for her… and that persistent desire.

           In the little diner inside the mall, a loud group of teen and a tired waitress. Y/n’s steps are unsure, and I can only imagine how exhausted she is.

           The waitress doesn’t even look at us when she approaches, and Y/n doesn’t look up, her eyes on the table, a hint of shame in her eyes, something I hate deeply.

“I’ll take a bacon cheese burger and a coffee please” I say, hoping she would know what she wants, but of course, she mutters something about only a coffee. “Two bacon cheese burgers, please.”

She lifts her eyes on me and sighs.

“I’m not eating alone” I shrug.

           She eats pretty slowly, and by the time she reaches the pickles in the middle of it, I’m done with mine. I try not to stare at her but everything she does, every move, is fascinating to me. She licks her fingers, she’s not doing it on purpose, cautiously trying to eat cleanly… and it’s even better.

           Eating gave her a little strength. I’m sitting on the chair of the store, waiting for her to choose a few panties, jeans, maybe a t-shirt or two. I can see she only picks necessary things even though I repeated her several time that it was not, technically, my money.

           Going through my phone, I read the articles about the fire, but nothing is more detailed than what she said for now. They don’t seem to have made the link to her yet, or at least, the media don’t know.

“I’m done” she appears in front of me, a bag hanging in the end of her arm, my jacket too big for her, hiding her hands, the shoulders seams falling too low on her arms.

“Do you need anything else ?” I ask, getting up.

“I guess you have soap at home, considering you don’t stink too much” she gives me a corner smile and it warms my heart.

             She’s fighting sleep. I try all I can to make her feel comfortable, but she is still fighting, her eyes struggling to focus on the road.

“You can sleep” I state, my voice hoarse for saying nothing for a long time.

“I know” she smiles kindly.

“Do you want to stop for a few hours ? I could use a little rest too you know.”

She turns to me and frowns.

“You drove seven hours in a row, and you’re driving back… You must be exhausted” she whispers. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m okay sweetheart” I chuckle at her concern. “There must not be a lot of motels around here, but I’ll find one.”

She looks down and smiles, nodding for herself.

“What ?” I ask, intrigued.

“It’s stupid” she tries to sweep my question away but my whole face insists, so she surrenders. “When I was… When I had no home, I used to dream that you would… show up, and that I could share a motel with you” her smile fades and I swallow. “Because it was so much better than the street…”

“I’m sorry I never showed up before” I state very seriously but she starts to chuckle to make that moment fade.

“I actually never went to one, it will be a first” she smiles now, her mask back in place.

             She puts the store bag on the bed and looks around.

“I’m officially a Supernatural character.”

I smile, entering behind her.

“I’ll take the other room” I say looking in my hand for the right key. “I’ll go buy food, you take a good shower…”

When I’m about to go out, she stops me.

“Dean ?” I turn around, instantly high on her voice saying my name. “Can you lend me a knife or a gun while you’re gone ?”

 Reader’s Pov

             I sit on the bed, trying to take in everything that’s happening, staring at the ugly decoration, waiting for him in my brand new sweatpants. I never wore this kind of pants before, but I never lived with someone, so I figured I couldn’t sleep in my underwear as I usually do.

           The shower really helped, and now I use Dean’s shower gel, it seems that the entire room smells like him. I look at the green jacket and take it in my hands, playing with its collar while I list the events in my head. Playing the scenes over and over, like it could give them a sense.

           My phone rings, and I look at it, plugged on the nightstand. It’s a number I don’t know so I just stare at the screen, not making a move.

“Did you know” Dean says, suddenly entering the room with a white plastic bag in his arms. “That this shithole doesn’t even have a store ! Only a Gas station !”

My eyes follow him, amazed by this way he has to move, so Dean, like it was described in the books. I get up, tugging at my brand new black t-shirt, to help him with whatever he found.

“So on tonight’s menu, Madame… Coke, chips” he gets everything out of the bag naming them one by one. “Twinkies… this thing, whatever it is, Cheetos, M&Ms… and that.”

“Yummy” I chuckle, frowning at the packs in front of me.

“You need to sleep” he states. “I’ll be in my room.”

“No” my voice is a little too enthusiastic. “Maybe we could eat together before you go to sleep…”

He smiles.

           This is a simple smile, but it makes my heart miss a beat because of how pure it is. His wrinkles highlighting it with the charm of his age, wearing every adventures he lived like crowns of bravery.

           He’s not the young impetuous wolf he was in those books anymore, he grew in the best way possible : nobly.

           And still the afraid little girl inside is exited to meet her superhero, because he really is exactly that.

           I can’t let myself be blinded by that smile… Life doesn’t work like that.

“I swear this stupid town, not even beers ? Come one !” he grunts, putting all the packs on the bed, before sitting on it. “Can’t wait to be home.”

I sit next to him, enjoying the sight of his large, manly hands grabbing those tiny M&Ms to stuff his mouth with it.

“Tell me about your home” I say, crossing my legs.

He turns to me, a serious look on his face, searching for his words.

“It’s my very first home…”

“Yeah” I nod, remembering the books I read a hundred times.

“It’s huge” another, tinier, smile. “And it’s legacy…”

           While he explains how he got the key to that bunker, I nibble on the little balls of chocolate, trying to keep my mind off the deaths I caused, and fighting the urge to yawn, because I really don’t want him to think he has to leave right now. I’m exhausted, but I desperately want him to stay.

           His story is fascinating, and for me, it is a fairy tale. Discovering you own a place like this, after a life of roaming… It was the best my brave hero could get after the end of the books. I spent my life trying to build a home for myself but maybe I just don’t deserve one.

           Like I don’t deserve that friendship Dean is offering me so naturally, his whole tall body spread in the bed so casually, as if we had been close for years. His long legs crossed, heavy shoes on the mattress, his elbow holding him up, turned toward me, bathing me in those legends that belong to him with such a simple trust.

           Flashes of my phone call to him fight to come back, and the more I try to chase them, the more I remember my body craving, clenching around my own fingers in frustration.

           And it’s already too late.

           I’m suddenly too aware of his arms muscles flexing to grab the chips, of the leather belt at his waist, resting on the little piece of skin showing there, of the perfect line of his jaw and his delicious smell.

           There is something about Dean Winchester. Something that has nothing to do with this deep respect I have for him, with the fascination I feel for a hunter so legendary, with that trust I could give him way too soon and the one he is offering me without any question…

           It is something physical that I never thought I would feel. Sex, for me, was always a way… A way to pass time, not be alone, let go some stress, forget, or even manipulate –even if I’m not proud of this one-. It was never a need.

           Dean makes me want, that’s annoying enough. But the bastard makes me need.

           I have to get rid of that, before my brain mixes it with this stupid hero myth it created, and start confusing want with feelings. I really don’t need feelings…

           I put the M&Ms down and lick my lips.

Get rid of that need.

Take what I want and make him fall from his pedestal.

“Dean…” I cut him in the middle of the British Men of Letters story, and he looks up at me while I sit up.

If he doesn’t want that, he’ll make a sign or say a word, but I heard he’s still pretty fond of one night stands.

           In a deep sigh, I loose no time, and get closer to straddle his lap, the simple gesture of spreading my thighs above him, without any contact, starting a fire inside me.

“Y/n…” he groans low, his pupils dilating right away and his face changing radically, from a friendly puppy to a wolf in a split second.

           His hands firmly grab my waist, the pure strength irradiating of him already making me drip in anticipation.

           I bend and, for a second, I see he’s ready to kiss me. But I won’t kiss him. I won’t indulge in giving him this tender gesture, something that might let him think this is anything more than sex.

Kisses are too important.

My lips find his neck instead, and I sensually roll my body on his while they start to suck at it.

“Y/n” he lets his head fall on the pillow and lifts his hips a little, pressing his crotch between my legs in a help back moan.

“That phone call left me craving for the real thing” I murmur in his ear.

“Me too…” he groans, his fingers digging in my thighs harshly. “You have no idea…”

           I finally sit on him, fully enjoying the hard feeling of his too full jeans on my folds, starting to rub through the fabric, desperate to finally feel in there.

“Fuck, don’t tease me” his voice is hoarse, veins showing on his neck that I want to kiss.

           But kiss is too important.

           So my hands find his belt, and while I open it, I stare at his mouth, agape and plumb, and at his chest going up and down.

           The second the belt and the button of his jeans are open, he lifts his hips to wriggle and push it down with his underwear, just enough to free his cock.

           I want to kiss it too… And its veins are calling me like the veins on the side of his throat. But instead, I wrap my hand around the velvety skin and lick my lips, guiding it to my still covered entrance, just to tease both of us, his precum joining the wet stain between my legs.

“The real thing, Sweetheart” he grunts, unable to keep himself from pushing up in my hand and against me.

           When I move again, it’s only to take my sweatpants and panties off, immediately straddling him again.

“Fuck yes” he moans, his piercing eyes between my legs, and his lip between his teeth.

I’m high.

A drop of my own juice falls on the head of his cock heavily, and I know I’m already panting but I don’t really care.

           Taking his length in my hand, I lift my hips, starving for him, and push the head to my entrance.

“Shit” I gasp, feeling my body resist just a little before it swallows the first part of him hungrily.

“Oh God, Y/n…” he cries out, short nails digging in my sweating thighs.

           It only takes me a few seconds to welcome him entirely, stretching myself faster than usual because of how wet and eager I am. And when I do, I don’t lose a second.

           Placing my two hands flat on his chest, I start rolling my hips, grinding, and finally bouncing up and down in haste, unable to get enough of the feeling of him so deep inside of me, twitching hard and stretching me with no mercy.

“Sweetheart, easy…” he pants. “Or I won’t l-last long.”

But I’m too far gone, and I want him to come so bad.

In my high, I start needing things I never thought I needed : I want him to let the wolf out, to push me down on that mattress and take everything, to force a kiss on my mouth, to make my defenses shatter…

“Fuck… Dean !” I moan loud, my stretched out arms still keeping me from being too close to that temptation that could break me, too close to that dangerous man.

“Yes… Yes… Fuck…” he praises, now closing his eyes tight, his daring huge hands going under my shirt to hold my waist, his thumb digging in my ribs.

           And, surprising him totally, I come first ; hard and brutally in a desperate groan.

“OH MY… F-F-FUCK” he cries out, feeling my walls strongly clenching around him and my restless thighs crushing his hips.

Grabbing me fiercely by the neck, he makes my lips crush on his, almost making us break some teeth, while he empties himself deep inside of me, not really kissing me, but panting and biting my lips and moaning with his jaw clenched.

           This is the hottest thing that even happened to me, and my orgasm becomes so long I’m afraid I might pass out… My face now buried in his neck, I hold on to his shoulders.

             Then nothing. Silence and heavy breathing ; his hand lazily stroking my back slower and slower.

           I wait a minute before I grab his softening cock to take it out in a hiss… and a few more minutes before I dare looking up.

           He is asleep.

           I smile for myself, adoringly admiring his face, and take a deep breath.

You had it. It’s over now.

           I get up slowly, and grab my pants, along with the key to the other room, looking one last time to him.

I really hope it’s over now.

             He didn’t say a word when he came to my room to wake me ; and he didn’t say a word in the car during the four hours drive left to reach the bunker. He gave me the rest of the snacks from yesterday with a smile, a coffee in a plastic cup, and put some music on…

             By the time he enters the garage, my heart is beating fast. I’m nervous for so many reasons, overthinking everything.

Hoping it wouldn’t damage our young friendship. Hoping I won’t feel like I felt in the shelters I tried a long time ago. That I won’t be a burden, that I will have my freedom, that I will find the vampires that killed the closest I had to friends, that I will win this war…

           When I enter the bunker for the first time, my breath gets stuck in my chest, and my eyes can’t take everything.

This place is a palace, and the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

           And when Dean kindly offers me a visit, I understand the true value of it, and I have to hold back my tears :

It is not its size or its warmth that makes it a true home. It’s the perfect details that are witnesses of the life going on here.

It’s the glass that someone forgot on the table, the phone charger lazily dangling from the wall, the smell of coffee in the kitchen, the flannel on the chair of the bathroom, the toothbrush stain in the sink, Sam’s smell coming out of his bedroom, the post-it that says “Jody bday Friday”, the initials carved on the library’s table, the pie in the fridge…

And Dean’s voice. Dean’s voice calling me to show me the control room.

His voice so new to me, and yet so familiar.

That’s what makes it a home.

And I wish I was legacy, that it could be my home too…

________________________

***FEEDBACK IS GOLD***

Forever Tags : @parinarain​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @animegirlgeeky​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @mogaruke​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @masterof-agony​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @rainflowermoon @tftumblin​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @deans-baby-momma​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @roonyxx​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @thefaithfulwriter​​​​ @vicariouslythruspn​​​​ @emeow1496​​​​ @daryldixonandfrogs​​​​ @holylulusworld​​​​  @cocklesbelli​​​​ @sandlee44​​​​ ​​ @screenchingartisancashbailiff @donnaintx​​​ @hawaiianohana31 @akshi8278​​​ @magssteenkamp​​​ @sister-winchesters99​​​ @neii3n​​​  @alanegaming​​​ @im-a-shrub​​​ @sadwaywardkid​​​ @hopelesslydevotedtoyou1912 @slyqueenj​​​ @i-love-superhero​​​ @waywardsisterandpie @sunsetsandbooks​​​ @fangirlxwritesx67​​​​ @mrspeacem1nusone​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @stylesismyhubs​​​​​​​​ @deanwanddamons​​​​​​​​ @jawritter​​​​​​ @peridottea91 @chelsea072498 @chocolateheart​

I don’t need you tags : @charmed-asylum​ @prettydeaneyes​ @hellsenthero​​