#wanted to make Dib's anxiety more apparent

[short-and-ugly]

Really normal length Skoodge analysis

Gonna just start with the simple things. Things you can get from watching one time alone. Maybe. Probably not I don't think you people think about him enough to gather any of this. No. I'm sorry I love you all. I'm just a specific level of detached from average not-Skoodge viewers and don't know what all is expected. It's that one meme "Even when compensating, experts in any field will overestimate the average person's knowledge."

It's rough. Let's get into it.

Speech is probably an easy one! Yeah? Yeah.

A lot of the things he says are very literal... there's a lot of tacting things that are currently happening. A lot of stating the obvious.

("I'm afraid!")

Admittedly... this is probably a byproduct of him not being a "main character." His dialogue is a lot less important than that of characters like Zim and Dib. But it's still worth talking about! I'd like to think it's genuinely just his personality to be obvious and talk about things as if people aren't already aware of them. Maybe even have him be a bit tone-deaf. That's more headcanon territory though! So let's walk on past that before I confuse myself and all of you.

DOUBLE NEGATIVES...!

... only happen once. In the background. While he's being talked over by a bunch of teammates.

("Yeah; really that's actually good and more logical cause I don't really wanna make a chain or nothing like that.")

His speech is a lot more casual and, in transcripts for unfinished episode(s)(?) almost innocent!

frothing at the mouth at this one actually i dont like it. not good. this is just exposition. he would not fucking say that (probably wrong) (this was written by the shows writers) (it still makes me angry)

This one I just wanted to add because it's silly. Look at how silly he is. He's just a fun loving guy. Why does his mind go to dancing straight away? We'll never know... the inner machinations of his mind are an enigma.

Skoodge reads as... more impulsive than anything (and maybe a little anxiety-riddled but that might also just be me projecting). He doesn't strike me as a critical thinker who really tries to like... weigh the consequences of his actions. He just does shit and when it doesn't work out he does more. I imagine that's what most irkens are like, actually, now that I think about it...

His gut instinct must be controlling him because if it isn't then I honestly can't find any good explanation as to how he's survived for so long.

Which perfectly segways me into something a little more analyzing-like:

Skoodge is a cockroach.

He got shot out of a cannon and still comes back to the Empire. He... really does seem to believe that being here will help him out somehow. As if it hasn't already been proven that nothing he will do will satisfy the society he hails from.

Desperation can make you do desperate things; and Skoodge's entire character just reeks of desperation.

From apparently being considered to eat his own skin (before being deemed too much by the network) [no screenshot available because I don't even know how I'd begin to look for it] to the more canonical screaming-like-a-baby whenever something happens to him, it kinda makes you wonder how the hell he even got to where he is in the first place.

Now, this is more speculation than actual evidence, but I think it's a fair enough bet to say that Skoodge earned his title as an invader. He has no height to propel him forward in society, so whatever he did would've had to've involved sheer tenacity and an inclination for survival.

He is almost definitely, genuinely, afraid of death. And because of that, he just... doesn't die.

I know at an objective view, he doesn't die because it's funnier that way, and helps with jokes and gags, but like... c'mon. This is a deep analysis post. I'm allowed to get a little indulgent with it.

Treading into more theorization-territory here.

Irkens are raging Xenophobes.

And Zim fits this bill perfectly! He's slotted himself into this mindset without any issue, making up... unique slurs for humans and other things he comes by. Because he tries too hard to be a perfect irken. Maybe. That's a topic for someone that's insane about Zim, not me. This is about my guy.

If Zim is the perfect representation of an irken soldier (on a purely superficial level), then Skoodge is an outlier. Not in that he's good at his job; he's supposed to be! No, rather, his differences lie in his temperance. His composure, whatever you call it. He is far too complacent and even possibly a bit meek, if you wanna go ahead and call him that.

You see that? That right there is respect for a... honestly almost certainly, by irken standards, inferior species.

Now, this could either mean one of three things.

Either A) Skoodge is not space racist (best case scenario)

or B) Skoodge lacks self-confidence; not seeing himself as superior, and thus being compliant and respectful to the obvious figure of authority in front of him.

or C) Skoodge does not have respect for his Empire (very unlikely, seeing as the only reason he's still here is because he's trying to gain a promotion from said Empire)

Shooting down option A immediately with this dialogue here (Battle Of The Planets)

Sorry folks... he is very much so still space racist.

As for option B...

I'm going to be completely honest here. I think I've been interpreting this wrong in my series. I have a whole lot of complex reasons explaining why Skoodge doesn't have much confidence, but honestly, he reads as more... chill. And down-to-earth, than he does as self-loathing.

There is possibly evidence of him having a more quiet and subdued personality, instead of just him not being a xenophobe; and it comes from the very first episode!

Crying in front of the tallest at the Assigning. Admittedly, Larb cried too; but he at least had enough push in him to say something.

Skoodge doesn't. He's even disheartened by the Tallest's initial jeering of him! Which admittedly, might not be the best example of low self-esteem, because those are the literal Leaders of his fucking Empire... but it is definitely a shift from him being the proud, confident, short-and-ugly invader that he's shown to be in Battle Of The Planets. Invading Blorch must've really (rightfully) inflated his ego.

Which he normally lacks.

He lacks ego, but that doesn't mean he lacks confidence. He knows that he's good at things in spite of his flaws, and takes pride in it! Even though that pride ends up shooting him in his own foot. Sad.

And why is it that he lacks ego? Every other irken thus far (sans maybe Sizz-lorr) has demonstrated just how... important. It is for them to have one. How almost ingrained into their nature their egos are. Why does Skoodge not go on to boast about his glory when any other irken in his situation would? Again, it's going to be another one of those things that I just can't be too sure about, but I'm going to hazard to say that it's because he's so physically flawed. Short and ugly. (Probably the reason why his uniform is stained. Why put forth the effort to make your uniform look good if it's impossible for the rest of you?)

There is. Almost no doubt in my mind, that he's had to fight tooth and nail to get to where he is, claw his way to the top. And if he's done that, he knows the struggle of being lower? He knows because no matter how high he gets, he'll still always be that "lower"? augh. what the fuck.

Skoodge has been humbled by this because he's been reminded of it at almost every point in his life. He doesn't boast to inferiors because he knows that there is nothing to boast, that he is technically one of those inferiors. Because even despite his successes, someone will always go on to point out his flaws.

Which really brings attention to Battle Of The Planets, to the Tallest pointing out his flaws. He just had his greatest success. Purple gave him one flaw, he gave another. And he gave it proudly.

... SECRET FOURTH OPTION D YEAHHHH BABY!!!!

FAWN RESPONSE.

With his inclination towards survival it would make sense to reason that he's only polite in front of potentially-threatening company because it means that he's less likely to get pummeled for being. Anything else.

Being polite is just as credible a survival technique as anything else! We just don't get to see any other irkens using it.

Skoodge is. Competent. He conquered his planet first!

He's a good invader. And that's probably because he knows when to run.

He's very vocal about it, if he knows (or thinks) that there's someone around to assist him. Silent with his impending doom (ha) at the Assigning, but very very loud when being chased down in the canyon by the hogulus in Hobo 13.

Now, I don't know about you, but irkens don't really strike me as the kind of species to back down from anything. To me, they read as more of a "do it or die" kinda group. Again, this whole trait kiiiinda almost begging to be pegged as outlier. The only thing that makes me on the fence about this one is, again, the fact that it's a cartoon and Skoodge's fear might be for the sake of gags.

That doesn't really explain this though. He has literally no reason to be scared here. In this specific scenario (Day Of Da Spookies! unfinished episode) he's disguised as a human. Every person there is none the wiser to him and his alien nature. He's just... like this...? All the time? Apparently? Maybe?

Or maybe! There's other things at play here!

Skoodge is competent...

... but.

A friend put it into better words than I could:

His brain turns to mush whenever he's around Zim.

(Honestly, the volunteer line might actually add on to his possible lack of self-respect? Hard to say if it's that, or if he's just that desperate to give respect at the sign of any spare bit of authority, even if that authority comes from an irken shorter than him.)

It makes me wonder if most of what we've seen of him is just Zim's influence on him. Scared at the Assigning? He didn't know Zim was there, so that had to have been genuine. Saluting to an inferior species? He had to have known that Zim was there, because Zim introduced himself first (and very loudly at that), but I think it was also genuine because Zim wasn't directly influencing him?

Screaming because of the hogulus and running like a child from some humans? Those are almost definitely Zim's doing. I just. Don't know How.

Screaming is a weakness, I think; at least it should be (in the eyes of irkens), and when Skoodge does it he does it because he seems convinced that Zim will help him. And yet Zim never does! Skoodge has no reason to believe this!

But still, believe he does.

They had to have been... kind of close? At one point in their lives.

Potentially. I don't know how close a person can get to Zim, but Skoodge has just barely managed to do it, by virtue of the fact that he is quite possibly the only living thing in the universe that can tolerate being around Zim for more than five seconds.

And his cockroach-itude. That definitely helps. You can't be killed by Zim's passive destructive radius if you genuinely just can't fucking die at all.

But that explains nothing of his weird eagerness to do things for Zim. It borders on obsessive. It might actually be obsessive, since he's apparently been living in Zim's vents ever since the events of Hobo 13. Without telling him.

Skoodge is fucking deranged. Skoodge doesn't even register as a blip on Zim's radar of people-to-acknowledge, but he will still always just do things for him, and be excited to, too!

I don't know what's wrong with him. The less easy and definitely one too many steps detached from canon explanation would be that he views Zim as the ideal irken and strives to be like him. The easiest explanation would be that he just really likes Zim.

Gosh. Even that still raises the question of how or why he would. Zim is fucking terrible to not just him, but everyone. He is unbiased in whose life he ruins.

And Skoodge is perfectly content with just letting Zim ruin his.

man. i hate him. i really really do.

[nami-writes]

alright fair warning. this is tooth-rottingly fluffy and i got three cavities just from writing it, but i do think the sweetness is worth it <3 whumpees deserve a little love in their lives! starts with some mild emotional whump and then becomes just pure fluff

was supposed to be a 3 part chronological series but i seem to be working backward thru it so here's present day whumpee, slowly progressing in his recovery

He can hear the clock on the wall.

Every soft tick brings a new wave of anxiety and he wishes he didn’t know why.

The hands read 11:57.

He doesn’t know why he won’t just go to sleep.

He knows exactly what’ll happen at 12. He’ll wait anxiously for someone to remember, to care, to send him a halfhearted “hbd,” and then he’ll be disappointed when it turns 12:01 and his heart is as empty as it was two minutes prior. It's the same every year. He doesn't know why he expects anything different this time.

He should just go to bed. Sleep through midnight and live in blissful ignorance of the birthday he’ll never have.

Tick. 11:58.

He’s going to bed. He can’t do this. Not again.

He pockets his phone and makes his way to the bathroom. Washes his face, rinses his toothbrush, starts brushing his teeth. It’s suddenly apparent how loud the clock is even from the other room. He checks his phone— for work emails he missed, obviously, not for texts or the time— but his eyes wander to his clock app before he can open his emails. It’s just turned 11:59.

Don’t. Don’t. He scrolls through emails he’s already read, closes the app, opens the social media Caretaker convinced him to get. Regrets that choice and closes that too. He idly swipes between his home pages. Then he notices the seconds hand of his clock app is about to hit 12 and against his better judgment, stops to watch it. Maybe this time he’ll finally learn his lesson.

The second the line on his screen crosses 12, a call shrouds his screen and he jumps at his ringtone, almost dropping his phone in the sink.

He stares incredulously. The name reads Caretaker. He almost forgets to pick up.

“Oh— Whumpee! Oh thank god, I thought you were asleep already. I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

He hastily spits out the toothpaste in his mouth and puts Caretaker on speaker so he can put the phone on the counter. “No! No, I was already awake, I didn’t— sorry, I just didn't expect you to call.” He wants to laugh and cry at the same time, so relieved he doesn't know how to react. Of course. Of course Caretaker would call. He can't believe he’d convinced himself that he wouldn't.

“Oh, good, good.” Caretaker sighs into the phone so it sounds like a gust of air hit the microphone. “Well, in that case: happy birthday! You got any plans today?”

“...No,” he says and he's grateful Caretaker can't see the way his smile fades. “I, uh… you're the first person to bring up doing something for my birthday.” He doesn't mention in how long.

“In that case, I call dibs,” he says in that familiar snarky way. The way he jokes like Whumpee’s company is so special, a privilege. Like he’s honored to have Whumpee all to himself. Whumpee can never tell how serious he’s being. “How’s ice cream at the park and a movie at my house sound? Catrina misses you.”

Whumpee laughs, more lighthearted than he ever remembers being on a birthday. “Tell her I miss her too. Give her some pets for me.” Catrina, the black stray cat Caretaker had let him name. The one that Whumpee had named after the only person he remembered from before everything went wrong— Katrina, but with extra emphasis on the “cat.” “Ice cream and a movie sounds great.”

“Thank god. Ever since you moved out Catrina’s been sleeping on your half of the bed,” Caretaker scoffs. “I think it’s her half of the bed now. You gotta come reclaim it.”

And like that, Whumpee finds himself lost in pointless conversation about the best movie genres and the weirdest new ice cream flavor at Scoop’s and the way Catrina has been waiting at the door for Whumpee to come home from work every day, and he forgets he’s brushing his teeth in a tiny studio apartment having been dreading midnight just two minutes ago.

He loses track of how long they catch up, how long they laugh and recount all of Whumpee’s progress. All he knows is that someone remembered— someone cares.

“Damn, this thing is heavy,” Caretaker remarks mostly to himself. “How tight do you think security is? They probably won't care, right?”

Confused, Whumpee laughs awkwardly. “What? What are you carrying?”

“It's a secret,” he whispers with a smile into the phone. Whumpee can’t see it but he can just hear the smile in his voice. “Hang on.” The mic rustles with the sound of fabric, maybe inside a pocket. He hears Caretaker’s muffled voice. The noise clears up to the sound of an elevator dinging. “Okay, had to talk to someone. Your favorite flavor of cake is still vanilla, right?”

“Yeah.” What's Caretaker doing in an elevator? “Why?”

“Well, you can't have a birthday without a cake, right?” Elevator doors slide open on the other end of the phone. “Actually, you wanna hear a joke about cake?”

“...Okay,” he responds. “Shoot.”

“Knock knock.”

Is this going where he thinks it's going? “Who’s there?”

The call ends. For a moment, his heart drops.

There's a knock at the door.

“Aria!”

It's Caretaker. His heart leaps, but he keeps it together. “Aria who?”

“Aria gonna let me in to put down this cake? This thing is heavy!”

He runs to the door, nearly slams it against the wall in his rush to get it open. The only thing that stops him from crushing Caretaker in a hug is the cake in his hands. Still, he laughs with breathless surprise. “That was an awful joke.”

“Yeah, yeah. You can do better for my birthday, then,” he scoffs on his way in.

“Why’d you get a whole cake? It'll only be the two of us.”

“Well, we'll just have to eat a lot of cake then,” Caretaker grins. He takes off the cover, sticks two numbered candles in the center, and raises a lighter in the air like it's a glass of champagne. “To you.”

Sheepish but warm, Whumpee smiles back. “...To me.”

Caretaker lights the candles.

His heart has never felt so full.

[il-allora]

Oversharing my tropes ftw

Check out  @reynaruina ‘s Ponytail Dib AU

CW: Mental health, depression, dub con, alcoholism. If it isn’t your shit, don’t go there, babe.

----

It was rare that they had a common enemy for a long enough time as to become momentary allies, of them all, the US Government did oppose a challenge. So it was a genuine struggle from the moment when he broke out of his cell, found Zim drugged out of his ever loving mind on a dissection table and broke them out of a governmental facility in the middle of fucking nowhere, he realized it was one of those days. 

Two stolen grenades, a few puzzles and a dead soldier later, they were out of the labyrinth that seemed to be a governmental compound. Stormy skies above accompanied Dib ominously as he pulled on Zim’s bare hand while running through the desert, avoiding as many motion and thermal sensors throwing them off with the space blankets oversuit he’d stolen and by jumping around the bushes.

Every time they bumped, Zim made slurred, colourful, weird notes like ‘You seem to have a better body mass, Dib stink’, ‘You saved me, I’ll hate that in the morning’, ‘You’re the only human I’d actually kill for thus far, Dib human’, ‘You’re almost smart when you actually try’. Even if he wouldn’t admit to his enemy, each phrase was like a worm consuming his every rational thought and sent his mind on overdrive of ‘what ifs’ he usually tried to stop with alcohol abuse. God, he needed a drink right now.

Dib pushed back ino the hoodie a few strands of his jet black hair, pissed off at how he had lost his good hair tie somewhere. The main gates of the compound opened behind him and he gasped, throwing himself over Zim as two convoys roared out of it, “Don’t think it’s the time for fraternizing, Dig-thing,” the alien slurred settling his arms around Dib’s skinny neck and tapped Dib’s nose, earning a frown and a blush from the human. 

As the convoys left, Dib could only wish the image wasn’t burned in his retina, a shameful part of him insisting on using those minutes of the day… Later… Ugh, Zim barely even knows who he’s talking to, said the ruthless little part of his conscience, just get your pathetic ass out of here you can be stupid at home… “F-for fuck’s sake” he mumbled and started to get up, when he was roughly pulled down by the collar, he went with a gasp. How often could he forget how superhuman Zim’s strength fucking is? 

Dib frowned and looked away from the drunken angry alien, at least the sun was setting and if they could move quietly- “Look at me, Dib. LOOK AT ZIM!” The convoy stopped and started on a path back... Great, scratch that… “I’m looking at you, Zim! Now shut up and let’s get out of here,” he said quietly through his teeth, “Just shut up.” 

Zim smiled at him and poked at his nose chuckling, “You look nice when you’re stressed.” What does that even fucking mean? Dib shook his head to clear his thoughts and rolled away as the lights of the convoy went up, SHIT. He laid low and let out a shaky breath, looking at the next bush they could crawl to.

“Come on, Zim, we need to get your cockroach ass out of here”, Dib took Zim’s wrist, before he could move Zim pulled his face close enough as to have their breaths mingle and he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise and Zim’s claws are so sharp and his fingers so soft and he might as well have a fucking heart attack and maybe it isn’t a great fucking idea to listen to a drugged alien poking provocatively at his chest as if he hasn’t been touched in years and what if human beings didn’t care for physical contact with him and could he be less fucking needy when the agents looking for them might as well turn them into doormats to deter escapees. FUCK!- 

“Look. At. Zim” he said poking at Dib’s chest as if challenging him, “ … Eh… Kah’ldya hujkali’r … “ What? What the actual fuck? A question that went unsaid by Dib’s expression, first irken gibberish he couldn’t translate without his guides and the app in his busted up computer. There was a pink trail of irken blood down the alien’s chin as he wobbled to his feet and out of his very worn PAK, came out a leg with a button he pressed.

“The fuck was that?” hissed Dib as he pushed both of them down as a light passed them overhead. “You worry too much. I am Zim, I’m amazing and you can’t even start to understand my genius ways, Dib filth” the alien slurred and patted Dib’s face, Zim sighed and looked up at him, “Mine.” Dib sighed and picked the alien again, by the oversized overalls and rolled his eyes expecting a less giddy wobbly alien to follow him when a large explosion went off overhead, turning over one of the jeeps. 

Only a second later the voot cruiser materialized in front of them at the speed of light, “Our ride is here! Get up before they bring the big guns...“ Zim rubbed at his head and pointed back at the high security military base from which Dib failed to get any fucking proof of the shit going on within as he made his way out because he was babysitting Zim this once. Still he threw Zim inside the cruiser and watched the hatch close behind him as machinegun fire went off, alarms going off within the spaceship, “What are we doing here?” said the computer as the voot went off at top speed making Zim and Dib land in a heap at the back of the driver’s seat. “Paranormal investigation” – “We were kidnapped” they answered in unison. 

Dib looked down at Zim rising an exasperated eyebrow, “We were kidnapped,” he repeated, “We need to leave, I need a cigarette and I’m fucking thankful that I don’t have a digital print right now, Zim, stop!” he said as Zim attempted to rub his face on his lower belly spreading blood all over it and far too close for comfort to other sensitive areas that MAY need immediate and desperate attention, but he feels dirty enough with the shit he’s witnessed so far. 

“Can we run some test to know what he was dosed with?!” he asked looking away from the alien offering a sly grin at his lap, blinking slowly up at him. 

The computer sounded bored by the request as it said “Initiating blood analysis through PAK system, it seems to be damaged. It may be fixed once you’re back at the base,” Dib sighed, as he pushed the hoodie of the stolen overall off his head and said, “Great.” So then he could leave Zim at his base, safely away from authorities and then just get drunk on whatever he found cheapest at the store for a day or five, he pushed his hair back, pretending he wasn’t bothered as hell that he lost his hair tie.

Zim alternated between looking confusedly around him to attempting to command the ship, which both the AI and Dib fought against, they threw the overalls through the vent and he seriously needed not to think on how his mouth watered as he divested Zim of the overall he forced him into at the lab/torture chamber back in the military compound.

It wasn’t half an hour later that he threw the door open at Zim’s home and just pushed past GIR “Oh, Master don’t look so good…” robotic tentacles came down from the ceiling and took Zim from Dib’s arms as sighed in relief, this whole thing felt like too much responsibility for the level of anxiety he was dealing with. Zim seemed to be reluctant to let go of his mangled shirt, “Alha’dun… Kah’ldya hujkali’r” he was pushed through the opening to his laboratory and then there was silence.

GIR hummed just as Dib felt he was overstaying his welcome, “I can translate irken!” he smiled with his tongue out and Dib looked at the small robot sideways expectantly, yet apprehensive on the information, “He said! Trust me, I’ll keep you safe- HEY!” Dib turned around mid-sentence and his feet didn’t stop until he reached his home. 

The neighbors were screaming, there was a siren down the street and the pipe under the kitchen sink leaked again leaving the smell of humidity on the air, he collapsed against his closed door and crawled to his bed a few moments later so he could have a proper breakdown.

[deviltoys]

— ‘𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗯𝗼𝘆.’

sakusa kiyoomi x top!male reader. (wc; 1.7k)

#a/n: lolol self-indulgent sakusa fic because i wanna breed him so bad. this is painfully horrible and short but hopefully enough to feed everyone for the time being!

warnings. NSFW CONTENT, MINORS DNI, blindfold, overstimulation, breeding k., frat!au, gangbang, dubcon turned con, belly bulge, cum inflation, no aftercare, manipulation, sex slavery, implied somnophila.

joining the most prominent fraternity on campus was the last thing on his mind. sakusa struggled immensly when it came to social interaction, he even took extra precautions to avoid having to exchange any dialogue between peers. especially a bunch of guild boys who could barely keep their heads attached to their shoulders; but atsumu had somehow convinced him to give it a shot.

according to the miya twin, he needed to push past this boundaries and explore his comfort threshold a little more. the perfect place to do just that? a frat house. who's more loud and rowdy than a couple of douchebag adults trying to assert their alpha-ness by hosting a copious amount of house parties.

as much as he beseeched and argued against it, the frat scene had him hook, line and sinker. and soon, the unbearable pull of charming guys passing around pamphlets for recruitment day had caught up to him.

the hall of residence was a lot more alluring that media would lead on. he was pleasantly surprised by the cleanliness and charm of the home; the parade of shirtless guys crowding around the hobby room only added a sense of authenticity to the whole ordeal.

after he was plucked into the roster of other men trying their hand at slipping a way into the frat life of their dreams. the initiation was on the horizon, and sakusa’s overwhelming social anxiety from the day prior came flooding right back into his system. he had forgotten the most important rule about a brotherhood, proving your worth and loyalty to your new family.

the two paths you could choose to go down were no bed of roses— the first opportunity was to streak and sprint down the length of the campus yard. or a play special game, in which your fellow brothers would surprise you with.

no way in hell would he sacrifice his dignity by stripping down bare and humiliating himself in front of the entire university. his education was on the line, he had a reputation to uphold; the only option was to partake in whatever the sorority had waiting for him.

that's where you came in, merely handing the dark-haired male a piece of cloth to don around his eyes. the last thing he could recall about his surroundings was the eeriely warm yet sadistic expression you gave him— his vision melting into a blur of black when the blindfold made contact his skin.

“just find a place to sit on one of the couches, my brothers’ll be with you soon.” your tone was low and gravely, the remainder of his senses were heightened due to his loss of vision. his ears exploding with your voice and your voice only, he felt the flesh on his cheeks bleed from pink to red; praying you wouldn't notice his shift in attitude.

“ye- yeah.. okay, thanks.”

your footsteps faded into the backdrop, signalling him to begin his search for the couch. he'd rather die than have you watch him scramble around the room like a headless chicken. he stumbled around a little, as predicted— bumping into furniture here and there before his hips knocked into a pool table frequently used for beer pong.

his hands feel around the object in an attempt to slip past it, amongst all the chaos he's experiencing he's dimly aware of the presence of a group of people. the scuffling of shoes against the hardwood floors only solidify his suspicions, but before he's able to call out to you; or anyone. heavy pressure is placed atop his shoulder blades— the curve of hips lace into the divit of his ass until he's pressed against the table.

the silence drifting around the open space between your bodies isn't broken, nobody dare mumbles a sound. your broad palms slink up the underside of his shirt, keeping a painfully slow pace up his chest until your fingers pinch the first nipple they come in contact with. your free hand snakes around his hip and dips into the hem of his jeans before making it's way into the waistband of his boxers.

his body shudders desperately, thighs bucking forward as your fist pumps around the length of his twitching cock. by the time he can gasp out a flurry of winces, two fingers that weren't there previously, poke and prod around his rim. devilishly forcing his walls to mold around them and shape room for a few more.

both of your hands now find a home around his hips. your groin, which is positioned at his rear, ruts the outline of your erect bulge against his ass— plowing the multitude of fingers already planted inside of him, deeper. this only entails that the fingers now wrapped around his cock, teasing his chest, and sinking into the depths of his rectum all belong to a different set of people.

he once more unclamps his jaw to sputter out more nonsense, only moaning once the warm, wet agitation of lips suck a dark mark into the curve of his collarbone. he's overcome with bliss, marveling in the way each frat member simultaneously toys with his sensitive body.

an abundance of hands fumble with his zipper, unbuckling the leather around his waist— unlooping the material before tossing it aside. you shove his pants down past his calves, releasing your grip on him so that you're able to abandon your own set of clothes. there's more rustling of clothes and clinking of belt buckles and your hands return to him once more, binding his arms and shoulders while gently bending him onto the table.

bracing for impact, he's pleasantly astonished when his chin and shoulders sink into something soft and pillowy. you were kind enough to replace the hard surface beneath him with one of the sofa cushions, strengthening his trust in you.

with his body now calm and relaxed with aura around the six of you, you take a few moments to prepare your cock to breed your good little fuck toy.

hot breath teases the meek, male’s ear; your monstrous cock pressing into puckered hole only making the lewd torture of the situation worse.

“miya told us you'd like to become our little breeder sakusa, we've had our eye on you for awhile. is this true? do you want us to pump your little womb full of our children?”

atsumu? he was the one who had him in this position, such a trusted friend making him seem special enough to catch the attention of these compassionate boys? maybe he was born to be a slave for cock. atsumu wouldn't lie to him, would he?

oh poor kiyoomi, if only he saw right through that twisted facade.

you growl into the shell of his ear, he figures that you're the one who's bending over his back; threatening to breach his fertile hole. being the head of the frat, you got first dibs on all the fresh meat brought in, it's sad you'd have to share this one with your brothers.

there's nothing sakusa has to resist with, he whimpers out a few noises before you're rewarded with a barade of nods. a rise of chuckles and quiet exclamations from the group feed through his brain— apparently all of your peers are patiently waiting for their own couple of minutes with him. silent vulgarites phase past your teeth as you impatiently card a hand through his thick curls. plunging into the boy with one fluid motion, your cock vanishes from sight, disappearing inside of his stomach.

his ebony iris’ screw shut behind the blindfold. you can feel the way his womb parts just for your cock, the slimey g-spot of his is completely ignored as you push past it; the fat head of your cock mercilessly drilling into his belly. your cock is on full display, the layers of flesh seperating you from the outside world bend and jiggle around the outline of your shaft.

“i sure do hope you have enough room for all of our cum in there.” your thrusts don't falter, not daring to give his poor, ruined prostate a breather. “because we're not stopping until every single one of us has had a chance to knock you up!”

with those final words rolling off your tongue, your hips snapped long and harsh strokes into his twitching hole— cum bursting at the seams of your slit, balls tightening and enlarging as the pent up pleasure and lust readied the fat sacks for release. sakusa feels his tummy bloom with the first batch of warmth, sticky ropes of seed shoot right inside. perfectly filling him up in preparation for the next cock eager to breed his tight ass!

so wonderful, his womb feels so full and claimed! a bright and hot flush pools across his face; without warning the next cock sinks even deeper than the last. more of the groups genes passing through him, mating the frat’s new bitch over and over again. he's hit by a wave of orgasms after the second brother slams himself nice and deep, pumping his seed inside him once more. his asshole greedily opening and closing to filter as much thick cum as humanly possible into his intestines. before he's able to come to his senses, he's already chubby with semen; happily inviting the next member to come and breed his stupid body.

the entire night is flooded with sounds of hiccuping, skin on skin contact, and the leaking of cum being deposited right back into sakusa. the incredible feeling of his frat brothers groping and touching him up have him cumming time after time— all night he's shuddering as another orgasm passes through his frame.

once he's positively gushing with cum and reduced to nothing but an overstimulated puddle of arousal— you scoop up his limp, bloated body, collecting the rest of your buddies before carrying him to his very own dorm. labeling his room, the ‘breeding room’. the sorority didn't let him waste a dime of time rejuvenating his body with sleep. they didn't want their new play thing to go to waste; he was awoken multiple times during the wee hours of the night. cock fitted tightly between his lavish cheeks.

he was certainly going to love it here, nothing but a obedient puppet.

[okay-j-hannah]

May The Best Man Win

The Marauders : Oneshot

James x Reader x Sirius

Word Count: 9358

Warnings: I’m not a big swearer, but I did add something in the end 😂 this turned way angsty, like A LOT, which is what I think the requester wanted 

Request: “y/n can’t choose between James and Sirius. preferably tons and tons of angst” - Anon

A/N: A friendly competition turns sour as these best friends fight for your heart without any good intentions

“This is simple.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is!”

Sirius sunk further into his chair, covering his eyes with one hand and another holding an ice cold butterbeer.

James stood from the couch, fingers to his temples, glasses askew, “Listen, I saw her first, therefore I get dibs.”

“You shouldn’t call dibs on a girl,” Remus muttered, his quill whizzing across his essay, “That’s not fair for her or for any other potential suitors.”

Peter peered up at his scarred friend from his place on the rug, “Are you saying you fancy her too, Mooney?”

“You can’t claim the girl just because you saw her first,” Sirius reiterated, continuing to block the firelight as it burned his gaze. “Besides, I was the first one to actually speak to her.”

“Is that true, Prongs?” Peter asked, eyes flipping between all those that were talking.

James messed with his hair again, “Well… that’s only because you caught my snitch as it drifted towards her.”

“So you could say that you led me to her.”

The two friends shared a look, one smirking and one grimacing. James paced in front of the fireplace, loosening his tie as Peter followed him with his gaze. Sirius appeared amused that he not only got the first introduction with this girl, but also in flustering his friend.

“Can I ask – are you two interested in this girl because you actually fancy her, or because you want to beat one another?” Remus asked, taking a heavy sigh and corking his ink bottle.

James appeared affronted while Sirius simply looked tired, “I don’t know, I was rather enjoying seeing Potter break his neck while I wooed the lady.”

“Of course I like her, Mooney, why else does a chap make a fool of himself.”

“Oh, come on, Prongs. You only slipped in the corridor twice,” Sirius mused, taking a sip of his drink. “Forgive me, I didn’t count the time you fell through the Fat Friar – that would make it three times.”

Remus rolled up his parchment and added in a delighted voice, “For a gifted quidditch player you can really trip over nothing, can’t you James.”

Sirius chuckled, sneaking a glance at his pacing friend, “Seeking love is a fools errand.”

“If you really believe that then why are you fighting against me asking (Y/N) out?”

“Are you telling us that you’ve found love at first sight?”

James grimaced, leaning against the mantle, “Not… not necessarily.”

“You just think she’s very pretty?” Remus questioned, now settling into the conversation with his homework done.

“No!”

“Beautiful, then?” Peter suggested. And with a swift look from his peer, he shut his mouth.

“Look, I’ll admit that (Y/N) is very attractive, and she caught my eye…”

Sirius cleared his throat, looking off into the distance, “And every other bloke in the Great Hall.” He practically snickered at the sneer coming from James.

“But you need someone to distract you from Lily Evans consistently rejecting your advances,” Remus delivered mercilessly, “You needed a beautiful rebound to make her jealous.”

Sirius finally sat straight in his chair, eyes uncovered, “That’s it, isn’t it?”

James was overly flustered again, hair seeming to frazzle with static, “Well, it sounds a lot worse when you say it like that.”

“You mean the truth?” Remus muttered, folding his arms to warm his cool hands, “If no one’s going to take into consideration the feelings of this girl, I might as well.”

“Alright, I have a bet,” Sirius stated loudly over Remus. He took a mighty swig of his butterbeer, “We both want a girl for the wrong reasons.”

James frowned, wiping a hand over his face, and Peter interjected, “Prongs wants her for the rebound – what’s your wrong reason, Padfoot?”

“Haven’t you been listening to the conversation?” Sirius continued, “I just wanted to spite him, taking the girl right from under him.” His elbows rested on his knees, hands clasped together, “How about we make it a proper competition. You’ll be able to take your mind off Evans and I’ll have something to do other than pantsing Filch and backtalking Minnie.”

The disapproval was immediate on Remus’ face, but he let them finish their statements, knowing precisely when to intervene. James furrowed his brow, a finger between his lips as he contemplated.

“It definitely would make Lily notice.”

“Possibly jealous.”

“And you could build cred that you’re the romantic type.”

“And the ladies will be lining up at my door to get a piece of the action.”

Peter again seemed bewildered at the talk, “I’m sorry, what – what is this proper competition?”

Remus sighed, willing his patience to continue, “These two are disregarding the feelings of a fellow classmate in the hopes that she’ll better their love lives outside of their fake relationship.” When the poor blonde boy seemed even more confused, he added, “Essentially these two want to try and win over (Y/N)’s affection, seeing which one gets it first, and then drop her flat with no consequences.”

“Ah, but the reward will be great,” Sirius stated, grinning, “Breaking one girls heart is worth the dozens that will be willingly given to me afterwards.”

James appeared a bit more skeptical, much to Remus’ satisfaction, “And Lily will realize what she’s been missing out on.”

“You two are impossible,” Remus finally uttered, “I will not condone this; I think you sometimes forget that I am a Gryffindor Prefect.”

“No, I could’ve sworn it was Ravenclaw.”

“Smartass.”

“Besides the point,” Remus waved his hands, light igniting his gaze, “I will not have you play with this girls emotions and then drop her brokenhearted and despising you for the rest of our time at Hogwarts, if not the rest of our lives.”

Sirius let there be a pause after the statement before continuing with a kind of vigor, “Well, now that we’ve gotten the grouchy warning out of the way. I’d say we put it to a vote.”

James nodded, “All in favor of this proper competition for the affections of the one (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” He raised his hand along with Sirius.

After another tense pause and a threatening glare from Sirius, an intimidated Peter reluctantly rose his hand. Remus gave a heavy sigh, crossing his arms tighter against his chest, “This happens every time – you can’t will Peter to your side in every argument.”

“Well, at least for this one, we have,” Sirius laughed, rising from his chair and waltzing over to his friend for a bone crushing handshake, “May the best man win.”

James returned the aggressive grip, staring into the mischievous glint in Sirius’ eyes, “And upon agreement, we do not let her know of this competition, this is (Y/N) falling for us naturally using our own wit and charm.”

“Therefore, I will be gaining the advantage because I am overflowing with both.”

Peter chimed in with a nervous smile, “And we can’t persuade her to go for one of you over the other?”

“No, we’ll use you as spies,” James continued, massaging his crushed hand, “If she decides to talk to you about one of us, you are legally bound to tell us everything she said.”

“And if we tell you to pass along particular information, you will please do exactly that.” Sirius returned to his chair but opted for leaning against the back of it. “And the competition will only end when she is given the ultimatum and has chosen one of us.”

James nodded, pulling his tie even looser, “And we have by the end of the school year – if she hasn’t chosen by then we’ll give her the final question before exams.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Remus huffed, “Don’t lay a question like that on the girl before exams; at least wait until after when she has nothing else to worry about.”

“Well, I don’t think we’ll have to think about that,” Sirius gloated, “Because I’ll make her fall months before final exams.”

~~~

(Y/N) wandered the corridor, a very peculiar incident waying on her mind. She just had the most bewildering interaction with James Potter right outside the Great Hall. The boy was all in a tither, apparently at the end of a rather exhausted sprint down the main staircase.

“Good – Good afternoon, (Y/N),” he had huffed. “How are you?”

She smiled, puzzled, “I’m fine, thank you. You don’t seem to be, though.” She gave him a hesitant look and watched as he awkwardly tried to gather himself.

“Right, yes – it’s hard to run down stone stairs without falling – takes all my concentration; especially when my focus is elsewhere.” He gazed at her behind his squared glasses, hoping he wasn’t being too subtle.

(Y/N) bit the inside of her cheek, scrunching her face as she thought, “What’s on your mind?”

When he grinned at her reply, she couldn’t help but find him quite cute. His gleaming smile complimented his light eyes and dark hair well. Of course she had heard of Potter, him and all of his boisterous friends, but she’d never found herself caught up in a one-on-one conversation with him.

Just the other day she ran into his best mate, Sirius, in the Great Hall. And from that interaction it appeared he’d never laid eyes on her before. Perhaps he said something to James?

“I saw you crossing the corridor. I was trying to think of something clever to say.”

It was incredibly apparent that James was feigning a kind of bravado that his friend Sirius had once shown her. But all too noticeably she was able to pick out the hesitance and anxiety behind his words.

It made her smile even more as he peered down through his unbalanced glasses.

“And you came up with ‘good afternoon’?” she snickered, readjusting her heavy book bag. “You sure it took all of your concentration? Seems a bit obvious.”

This time he laughed along with her, finding his hands itching to fidget with his snitch. How was he supposed to focus on befriending (Y/N) when he had Sirius’ obnoxious face in the back of his mind? He could practically hear his friend mocking his conversational direction.

“Yeah, you got me,” he sighed, “I saw you and my mind went blank.”

She paused momentarily, letting that sentence tense the room. He appeared to sense the shift, messing with his hair even more, which she noticed with a skip in her heartbeat. What could she say? It was cute.

“Well – I’ve got to get studying.” She gestured her path set for the oak front doors, “I promised myself I would ace McGonagall’s exam.”

James saw his opportunity immediately and chose to seize it, “I’ve been meaning to study too! Do you want a study partner? I’m completely hopeless, but I have no doubt you could put me to good use.”

She couldn’t deny the plea in his gaze. Did he really want to? Why would he, all of the sudden? They were never great friends before. But when his tousled hair fell over the rim of his glasses, the skip in her chest wouldn’t allow her to refuse.

“Sure, if you don’t mind going outside. I like walking along the forbidden forest and sitting in the pumpkin patch.”

Her acceptance was enough to make James bounce on the balls of his feet, “Perfect.” He leaned towards the front doors and she took the hint to lead the way. In another stroke of genius he reached out a hand, “Let me carry your bag; you look about ready to collapse under the weight.”

“Are you calling me weak, Potter?”

He smirked at the use of his last name, “Absolutely not. It’s just, I told you I was hopeless with the studying. Maybe my uses will fall under ‘pack mule.’”

It made her laugh enough that she willingly shrug the bag off her shoulder and into his hands.

He liked the sound of her laugh. It was the kind of laugh that infected everything within its vicinity. It even made him want to join her, but he chose to offer a pleasant smile.

In that unsavory part in the back of his head, James could see Sirius unwillingly placing a point under ‘Potter.’ It looked like he was getting the head start.

Back in the Gryffindor dormitories, Sirius was brooding against his window, staring down at the grounds. He was witnessing the playful interactions between James and (Y/N) in the pumpkin patch.

They each sat on their own massive pumpkins, which were grown to colossal size for the Halloween festivities. They appeared to be laughing, James distracting her from whatever she was reading.

James quickly snatched the book from her hands, and she jokingly nudged his arm in protest. He held the book high and laughed at her pout.

It made Sirius clench his fists against the stone wall. If only he had gotten to her first. He would have to put some extra effort into getting on her good side after today. Just the way she sneaked glances at James when he wasn’t looking already put Sirius on edge.

There was no way James was more charming then him. Sure they were a pair, but James was the one good at sports, family dinners, and sneaking around the castle with his invisibility cloak. Sirius was the one good with wit, flirting, and sneaking them in and out of trouble.

He couldn’t help but think of how much more capable James was with relationships too. He was always a bit more open and willing to share then Sirius ever was.

“If you ground into that wall any harder, I fear the stone will start to turn to dust.” Remus laughed aloud, in the middle of a game of Exploding Snap with Peter.

Sirius had to will his hand out of its clenched fist. “Just look how far he’s gotten. She all over him!”

“Shoving him away is hardly the definition of ‘all over him.’” Remus corrected, placing another card on his tower, “They’re simply being friendly.”

“Your heart isn’t in the game, Mooney. I can’t trust your judgement.”

Sirius watched as the sun began to dip and James offered another stroll towards the Black Lake. How dare he! That was Sirius’ move.

“You spoke to her first, didn’t you?” His tone was flat, but Remus always had the need to cheer his friends. “I doubt she’s forgotten you so quickly.”

“You’re not seeing the way she looks at him.”

“It’s only been a few days, Padfoot,” Peter muttered, always afraid to be snapped at for his opinion. “(Y/N)’s sensible – she’ll weigh her options carefully. You’ve got plenty of time to show her what you have to offer.”

Surprisingly, Sirius didn’t feel the need to belittle Peter, “I’m just going to have to think of a more memorable event. Sure James could bump into her and do some homework outside. But that’s not so significant, students do homework every day.”

“What do you consider an insignificant event?” Peter paused his turn at the Exploding Snap tower, sensing the uneasiness in Remus’ brow.

“Please don’t tell me your intentions include the hospital wing?” Remus asked.

Sirius tried to watch the couple out the window with the darkness descending on them. “It won’t be needed if I can catch her in time.”

Remus widened his tired eyes, Peter attempting to match the mood. “What are you thinking, Sirius? Don’t be doing anything stupid. Getting expelled isn’t worth this bet.”

“Don’t be so ridiculous. It’s nothing to be worried about – not by you two.” He retreated to his bed, stretching out with a new air of confidence, “Damsels in distress can’t resist a prince charming.”

“I have to insist, Sirius.”

He rolled his eyes, “If I tell you, there’s a chance James will find out. I don’t need any interference.”

“So help me,” Remus glowered, “If I find out this girl is incapacitated because of your tomfoolery…”

“Relax, Mooney – all’s fair in love and war.”

~~~

The rain was falling into a lazy drizzle, calming the cold that had plagued them that morning. (Y/N) followed the stone steps outside and up towards the owlery, protecting her letters from the last remnants of rainfall.

She dwelled on her conversation with her good friend Mary MacDonald last night. It was a much needed vent about the last few weeks, and Mary was more than willing to listen. She was always a sweet friend.

“James Potter? Are you serious?”

“Yes!” (Y/N) had said, “And we walked along the forest and the lake well into the night. We just talked and talked, and it was actually… really nice.”

“I always thought Potter was a bit of a pompous prat.”

(Y/N) laughed, “Sometimes that does shine through, but I’m getting good at knocking him off his high horse when it does.”

Mary ran a hand through her hair, thinking, “Have you done anything since then?”

“To tell you the truth it’s like he can’t leave me alone. He keeps cropping up in all sorts of places – it’s like I can’t refuse him as a friend now. It’s usually when I’m studying in the Great Hall or the library; he shows up with treats or ideas about walking the quidditch pitch.”

There was a strange glint now entering Mary’s eyes. She let (Y/N) ramble on some more, waiting for some dire information.

“I’ll admit it’s been fun, it’s definitely confusing, but also fun. I’m starting to get used to having him around – he’s always cracking jokes. He knows how to make me laugh. And...”

“Oh, and his hair, right? How he’s always ruffling it around,” Mary put an edge of mockery in her tone, but she was thrilled with the wide eyed reaction from (Y/N). “And his glasses…”

(Y/N) stared at her friend for a moment too long before a blush betrayed her, “… they’re always crooked.”

Mary nodded to herself, a fist under her chin and a smug look on her face. “You like him, don’t you?”

She gave it a lot of thought, “I don’t know. He’s cute and I enjoy being around him. But it’s too soon to tell.”

“It seems pretty obvious to me,” Mary concluded, pointing at her friend accusingly, “You have feelings for James Potter.”

(Y/N) began to retort, “We’ve only been hanging out for a week!”

“And he’s obviously been doing something right because you are still thinking about that week.”

Now as (Y/N) climbed the staircase towards the owlery, she sighed. Maybe she did feel something for James. She couldn’t deny the skipping of her heart every time he brushed her shoulder with his.

After tying her letters to nearby barn and screech owls, (Y/N) went for her favorite spot just outside the tower. She sat on the railing and let her legs swing in the open air, taking a deep breath of the crisp wind.

The stone was still damp from the ceasing rain and it made her fingertips cold touching it. She had hoped the fresh air would clear her head of her recent puzzling thoughts and feelings. But the longer she sat there, the more she found her mind fogging up.

What was she doing sitting on the railing? How did she get up there?

Shaking her head a bit, (Y/N) tried to turn herself around but found another wave of confusion hit her.

Where was she, again?

And reflexively scooching to one side to peer at her surroundings, (Y/N) found herself unbalanced and sliding off whatever she was sitting upon. Was this a railing?

She began to slip off the damp stone, a sudden shriek on her lips. Her feet found no traction as they descended further, and her hands grappled for any kind of purchase. In just a few seconds she was dangling from the edge of the staircase, fingers cold and numb against the rough bricks.

She couldn’t find her voice as she struggled to wedge a foot along the side. Heavy breaths came from her lungs as whimpers escaped her.

But in another few seconds, she heard another’s voice.

“Woah! What are you doing?”

Frantically turning her gaze upward, (Y/N) saw a familiar face. Sirius Black?

“H-Help.”

He copied her panicked face, fumbling with stowing his wand. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” His hands found hers and he began to hoist her up.

(Y/N) scrambled over the edge, feeling the numbness that started in her fingers trail through the rest of her body. She could hardly comprehend the way she fell into Sirius’ arms, clutching at his cloak out of sheer panic.

“Hey, I’ve got you. You’re safe now, (Y/N).”

He felt the shivers racking her body as he held her to him. An unexpected pang of guilt shot through him. She had fistfuls of his cloak, fear plain in her eyes as she stared at a fixed point ahead.

“Are you all right?” When she didn’t respond, Sirius tried cupping her face, turning her gaze to him. “Are you all right, (Y/N)?”

She looked at him hard, blinking furiously as warmth began to seep back into her bones. “I – um… I think so.”

“You’re not hurt at all?”

She stared at the way his face changed when he asked it. A crease formed between his eyebrows and his eyes were set upon hers. She started to feel his hands on her cheeks and a sudden rush of heat flooded them.

“No, no – I think I’m good.”

That warmth began to unfreeze her limbs, her mind no longer so foggy. She took a deliberate step away from Sirius, embarrassed by the momentary close contact.

He held his hands up, noticing the swift retreat, “Hey, I’m just checking. You look a little shaken.”

She looked around her, “I don’t understand,” she muttered.

“What were you doing sitting on the edge of the stairs? You do realize it was raining this morning.”

She looked harder but couldn’t find any reason. She must’ve just slipped, though she’d sat on that railing for years and never fallen. “I come up here to think. I’ve never fallen before.”

He nodded but kept a concerned look on his face, “You seem a little dazed. Maybe you should visit the hospital wing – Madam Pomfrey might have something to calm you down.”

“I told you I was all right.”

“I know, but it would make me feel better if you got checked out anyways.”

Was her mind still foggy or was Sirius Black showing genuine concern? She snapped her gaze back to his and realized that the arrogant flirt from that day in the Great Hall was completely gone. It was almost bewildering to see his face without the smugness or the classic smirk.

Her stomach churned, whether from leftover fear or freshly made nerves, she didn’t know. But she was compelled to return the compassion.

“Thank you,” she said, “For pulling me up.”

A smile returned to his features, “It’s no problem. Damsels are my specialty.”

So the arrogant flirt was still in there.

“It was lucky you came over here. I would’ve been a goner.”

She waited for him to say something obnoxious like ‘yeah, you are lucky, princess,’ or ‘just call me savior from now on.’ But he caught himself with his mouth agape, it was a calculated hesitance.

“I’m glad,” he said, more sincerity in his tone. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Her stomach did another involuntary flip. Did Sirius always have such a nice smile? She never realized how kind it was, or how warm his eyes were.

“Can we stop by the hospital wing real quick?”

“We?” she murmured, still dazed by the sudden rush of epiphanies.

He chuckled, “I’d like to follow through, if you don’t mind. What if you slipped on your way down to the castle?”

(Y/N) recognized the chuckle as something to accompany a witty remark, but this time it was partnered with a warm gaze and a slanted brow.

“Sure,” she said, hesitantly. “Are you sure you’re all right? You’re acting strange.”

He laughed again, leading the way back down the stairs, respectfully keeping his distance from her now. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean,” (Y/N) hid her hands in her pockets, hoping the redness had dulled in her cheeks, “You haven’t said anything irritatingly pretentious yet.”

He let out a low whistle, “The damsel bites back.” She didn’t say anything more so he shrugged his shoulders, “Maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to assume I’m like that all the time.”

Had she made assumptions? She had only spoken to him that one other time in the Great Hall.

~~~

There was a very clear thwack as the portrait swung closed. Mumblings could be heard from the Fat Lady and a string of first and second years scrambled to move their things elsewhere and avoid the coming carnage.

James came tromping towards the corner of comfy couches the marauders normally occupied, finding the trio he was seeking.

“You have some explaining to do,” he pointed at Sirius, “And it better be lengthy and detailed.”

The venom was perfectly seen in his words, and it only made the victory that much sweeter in Sirius’ eyes. “Yes, Prongs?”

“How unrelentingly pig-headed are you? How much of a conniving, thieving git are you?” James began to rise his voice much to the growing grin on Sirius’ face.

Remus began to contort his brow, “What’s happened, James?”

“What’s happened is that Sirius has no regard for (Y/N)’s safety. Apparently it was thrown out the window when he decided to toy with her to get back at me.”

“Who said anything about getting back at you? I’m just playing the game.” Sirius was much too relaxed on the sofa for James’ liking.

Peter piped up, “What’s happened to (Y/N)?” He had grown quite fond of the girl whenever they met in the library. She was always kind to him when he struggled with assignments.

“Sirius landed her in the hospital wing!” James hissed, “She just told me downstairs.”

Remus rounded on their friend, “You said you wouldn’t let it get that far!”

“You knew about it!”

“Is (Y/N) all right?”

Sirius yelled the loudest, “Alright, you pansies, calm yourselves. (Y/N) is fine.”

“Not before she was almost thrown off the side of the owlery.”

Remus felt his jaw drop, “You shoved her off the stairs?”

Sirius jumped to his feet, “Now, now, Mooney – let’s not fall to any conclusions. (Y/N) was sitting on the railing and I simply nudged her into the perfect position for a rescue.”

James was fighting the urge to sock his friend in the face. “By having her fear for her life, dangling on the side of a mountain?”

“I’ll admit, it wasn’t meant to go that far.”

“Then how far, exactly?” Remus urged, “Be careful, Sirius – I might not hold James back from hitting you.”

“I just sent a little confundus charm her way while she was sitting there so she would forget why she was there in the first place. Then I thought I’d surprise her, she’d jump a bit, I’d steady her so she wouldn’t fall… easy.”

James had to cross his arms very tightly to keep them from swinging, “And you took the charm too far?”

Sirius felt a familiar pang of guilt, the look of terror on (Y/N)’s face as she clutched at him resurfacing in his memory. “Perhaps. But she’s all right, isn’t she? I took her to the hospital wing just to make sure, and Madam Pomfrey said after a nights rest she’d be fine!”

The silence was tense and anxious. Remus looked ready to attack Sirius just as much as James wanted to, but maybe not as ferociously. Peter cowered in the corner, wishing to run from the fight.

Sirius was the only one with a casual look on his face, “You two are overreacting.”

“I can’t believe you would put (Y/N) into such unnecessary danger,” Remus remarked.

“You’re overlooking the benefits, though,” Sirius continued, “Clearly (Y/N) has been talking about me. Clearly she has me on her mind, exactly where I want to be.” He stared smugly at James, relishing in his fuming state.

James couldn’t comprehend the fury he was feeling. How dare Sirius take such measures. How dare he hurt someone he cared about.

Wait.

Someone he cared about?

“This isn’t a game anymore.”

“Excuse me?”

“This is (Y/N) we’re talking about,” James reiterated, “She isn’t a chess piece – she’s our friend. You clearly are taking it way too far. I thought charm and flirting would’ve sufficed, but you want to throw in some death defying stunts…”

Sirius held his hands up, his smugness melting away, “Easy – you don’t think I was worried about her too? I’m sensing a little more than anger here, Prongs.”

James swallowed hard, his face set, “That might be my restraint in killing you right now.”

“No, no – I think you’re hiding some other unresolved feelings.” Saying the words did uneasy things to his chest, much to his chagrin. “Perhaps you’ve been enjoying your time with (Y/N) more than you thought.” Just the idea made unwanted jealousy bubble in his stomach.

Why would he feel that?

James had to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying something rash. From giving himself away.

“Just stay away from her – for a little while. I think you’ve traumatized her; she won’t go across a bridge without someone with her.” He began to retreat, coolness to his tone, wishing to be alone now.

“And let you get ahead? I don’t think so.”

James stopped in his tracks for only a second before thinking better of the situation and leaving the common room.

The remaining three sat in silence for a few minutes, Sirius finally feeling able to let his guard down and appear sulky. Peter flickered his beady eyes between his companions as Remus attempted to study Sirius’ face.

“Are you all right?”

Sirius barely sneered, “What?”

“We were so busy worrying about (Y/N), we didn’t ask how you were.” Remus tilted his head in thought, “You did almost send the girl to her death.”

The unwanted heat in his chest made Sirius stir uncomfortably, “It was a surprise.”

Remus knew better and waited for his friend to build up the courage to continue.

“When she fell over… for a split second – I didn’t know what to do.” He paused and waited to see if someone would stop him. He tried with difficulty to gather his thoughts, “I was terrified. I was angry at myself.”

There was another bout of silence and it appeared that Remus was satisfied with the outcome of his questioning. Sirius was relieved, it was overwhelmingly hard for him to describe his feelings.

“James isn’t going to forgive so easily.”

“I know that.”

“And (Y/N) doesn’t know her fall wasn’t accidental?”

“If she did I doubt she would’ve let me walk her back to her dormitory.” There was a distant look in Sirius as he thought of the memory. He was finally able to get her to smile again right before saying goodnight.

~~~

Mary was more skeptical than ever as they trudged through the snow covered grounds. It seemed impossible.

How could both James Potter and Sirius Black be fawning over her best friend?

“And then what did he do?”

“He pointed out the mistletoe and looked at me expectantly. And what was I supposed to do?” (Y/N) mused, almost embarrassed by how much she liked the moment.

“So you kissed him?”

“Don’t sound so disappointed – I thought you were team James from the beginning.”

Mary didn’t respond right away, “How was it?”

(Y/N) appeared to like that question, “Merlin, I’ve never had so many butterflies. He kissed me once, real quick. And it looked like he was going to say something, so I just went for another one!” She kicked a pile of snow, entirely too happy to remark on the few flakes that fell on her face. “And before I knew it, we were on the couch.”

“You didn’t…?”

“No, we just kissed.” (Y/N) said quickly, “But it was the best kiss I think I’ve ever had.”

The retellings of the Christmas weekend were definitely something to behold. Both Black and Potter decided to try and one up the others time with (Y/N). It appeared that Mary was the only one to have noticed. Merlin only knows what Sirius will do once he figured out James had kissed (Y/N).

“Well, what about Sirius? Did you two do anything over the weekend?”

“We spent Sunday with Remus and got in a snowball fight. Sirius shoved snow down my cloak like the git he is. But when we walked back to the castle he asked if I was all right.”

“He does that a lot, doesn’t he? Seems to wait for when no one is around.”

(Y/N) felt defiant, “Sirius doesn’t like people to know he’s a good guy. He has to keep up appearances, you know.”

Mary found the sudden urge to list the pros and cons of the boys laid out before them. “But James has never struggled with showing you how he feels.”

“But have you seen him around the quidditch pitch? I could climb to the moon on the ego he has while on a broomstick.”

“But he also is a gentleman – he carries your books, takes you out to Hogsmeade, brings you treats…”

(Y/N) blew hot air between her numb hands, “Yeah, but no one asks me how I’m doing more than Sirius. And he is determined to make sure I’m not lying; he hates it when I say, ‘I’m fine.’” She fiddled with her pockets as a frown soured her face, “And I’m pretty sure I caught James pining over Lily Evans the other day.”

That startled Mary a bit, “Did they use to go out?”

“No, but James fancied her a lot! Peter told me. She rejected him something fierce.”

“And you think he’s still stuck on her?”

“Maybe.” The grimace didn’t suit (Y/N). “And then there’s Sirius – the perpetual bachelor.”

Mary snuck a smile, “Yeah, but Sirius always has a string of girls wanting to go out with him. He lets his good looks get to his head.”

“Sometimes I think he doesn’t believe he’ll ever find someone,” (Y/N) mumbled, “I know his arrogant, witty side is a front. He almost gets nervous whenever I try to make a move.”

“Really?” Mary dramatized, “I thought Sirius Black never got nervous.”

“That’s cause you haven’t taken the time to get to know him.”

Mary nudged her further, “And what about James? Does he have some secret?”

(Y/N) pondered thoughtfully, “I think he’s scared no one likes him compared to Sirius. He has a good heart and comes from a wealthy family. But he wants to make a name for himself, so he puts everything he has into his friends and quidditch. He gets jealous quite a lot.”

“Interesting.”

“And that’s not even mentioning Sirius and his family. Man, I thought I didn’t get along with my parents, you should look at his.” She found herself taken slower and slower steps, her voice now lowering, “You know his entire family is in Slytherin? And he’s a Gryffindor… that should be enough to speak for his character. He despises what his family represents.”

“I didn’t know that.” Mary was now beginning to understand the predicament that (Y/N) had found herself in.

Both of these boys were setting up a dangerous game. One that was going to end only in heartbreak and guilt. And Mary didn’t like that her best friend was tangled in the middle of it.

“What are you going to do?”

(Y/N) paused, halting her steps. “You mean – who am I going to choose?”

“I don’t think you should let it go on much farther. I think both of them are falling for you and eventually one of them is going to be let down, and you’re going to feel terrible for doing it.”

They stood there ankle deep in snow as the gears turned in (Y/N)’s head. Mary could’ve sworn steam was beginning to come out of her ears.

“I don’t know if I can choose.”

Mary frowned, “Well, you need to explore your options. You obviously care for both of them, now you just need to figure out which one you love.”

(Y/N) swallowed hard at the thought: love.

“I haven’t kissed Sirius yet.”

“No, you haven’t,” Mary continued, helping the thinking aloud process. “But just because you can kiss them doesn’t mean you love them.” She was painfully aware of the numbness creeping into her stone cold feet, but (Y/N) didn’t appear to be.

And another set of footprints was coming their way, crunching in the snow.

“Oh, I think that’s James now. Act as if we haven’t been talking about him this whole time.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh as they were joined, “Hello, James.”

“Hi, (Y/N) – Mary. How are you?” His cheeks were rosy with the cold, his pale complexion making his ruffled hair stand out. He was staring only at (Y/N) as he asked the question.

She felt her heart throb, “I think my fingers are frostbit, but other than that, perfectly fine.” She laughed his favorite laugh.

“Well, no wonder; you’re not wearing any gloves.” And there was no hesitation as he reached for her hands to warm them up between his. He blew hot air between her fingers and rubbed them together.

(Y/N) was mesmerized, her flushed cheeks growing to down her neck. Mary noticed but didn’t say anything, only smirked.

“Better?” He stared at her with eyes alight with something Mary could only describe as adoring.

(Y/N) smiled, “Much.” She intertwined their fingers, asking him to join them back towards the castle.

~~~

“I think we have a problem.” Remus saw first, peering down the table at where James and (Y/N) were eating together. “I think our friend is losing sight of the goal.”

Sirius sat begrudgingly beside him, “Doesn’t he realize that every time he looks at Lily, (Y/N) notices?”

Speaking of the redhead, Lily Evans made her way down the aisle of seats to take one beside some other Gryffindors. James flickered his eyes to her before returning them to a suddenly much more sullen (Y/N).

Sirius practically growled into his dinner, “If he actually cared about (Y/N), he’d spare her feelings and go for Evans.”

Remus didn’t dare remark how at the beginning of the school year the pair of them were both ignoring (Y/N)’s feelings for a petty competition.

“Don’t be mean, Padfoot,” Peter whispered across the platters, “Just because they’ve kissed…”

He didn’t want the reminder. His fist clenched involuntarily beneath the table. “I can’t believe I’m losing. There’s no way he wants her more than I do.”

Perhaps he meant to say it just to himself, but it was loud enough for Remus to hear. The scarred boy felt sympathetic, looking to Sirius with a wary glance.

“Do you mean that?” Maybe he could give Sirius a much needed epiphany. “You want her?”

There was a silence as Sirius pounded away at his feelings. He felt them creeping up on him – making his heart race, his lungs constrict, his palms sweaty. He never used to feel that way. He was afraid to feel that way.

But he had tried to deny them for months now. After the mistletoe incident during Christmas, he had seemed to lose much of his persistence. His resolve was that he wanted (Y/N). Wanted her badly. But James had gotten there first.

Stupid, wonderful James. Of course she’d go for him.

Sirius looked at his best friend and knew he couldn’t ruin it for him. James deserved to be happy. Sirius couldn’t be selfish. As much as it now pained Sirius to see them together, he knew he wouldn’t forgive himself if he stole (Y/N) right from under James.

But what if she came willingly?

Oh, shut up.

Sirius had simply given up trying to win (Y/N)’s affections. At this point, he was just waiting for the final verdict. He still spent as much time as he could with her without breaking his heart. He just knew that she preferred spending that time with James.

And he was okay with that…

He was learning to be okay with that.

Remus caught himself falling into a pained grimace as he watched the rainbow of emotion reflect in Sirius’ face.

His friend was suffering while the other prospered. “You don’t have to answer. I’ve known it for a while now.”

Sirius swallowed hard, flexing his fists on his knees. “I think we have to give her the ultimatum soon. The Easter holidays are next week – we could give her till after. She could have the whole break to think about it. James and I are staying here anyways, it’ll be perfect.”

Remus still looked at him skeptically, “I should’ve stopped this bet before it got so serious.” They didn’t say anything, and Remus continued, “I think you both didn’t expect to fall for her so easily.”

“She’s easy to love.”

Remus tried not to have such a noticeable reaction. He knew the slightest hint towards that conversation would scare Sirius right off. “Maybe you should talk to her.” He pointed towards the couple rising from their seats, James kissing the back of (Y/N)’s hand.

Sirius didn’t respond as James came waltzing back towards them. He didn’t even see the still sullen look on (Y/N)’s face as she retreated.

“Evening, boys,” James mused, “I would like to say that I’m feeling rather good about my prospects. I do believe I’m going to win this bet.”

Sirius felt his hands shake, “And once you do, are you going back to Evans?”

“Sorry?” James wiped the smirk from his face.

“That was the point, wasn’t it? Get the rebound to make Lily jealous.”

James paused to think of a proper response, “Sure, to make Lily jealous, but that doesn’t mean I’ll go for her again.”

A slow nod, “So you’re planning on going steady with (Y/N).”

Remus flickered his eyes between his two friends, he tried to interpret the look on James’ face. Did he realize what these words were doing to Sirius?

“If she’ll have me, yeah.”

Sirius had to rise from his seat after that. “Excuse me.”

He sped down the aisle of seats, heart beating rapidly beneath his burning chest. There was only one face he wanted to see, one that he wanted to hold. It was almost involuntary how fast he scoured the corridors outside the Great Hall. All he knew was that he wanted to see her. He wanted to tell her, show her.

And there she was continuing her retreat back to her common room.

“(Y/N)!” he sped ever quicker, a painful throb echoing in his chest. He noticed her slow her steps, but not turn to look at him. “What’s going on?”

He was met with a distressed look on her face, “Hello, Sirius.”

“Are you all right?”

There was a flicker of a smile gracing her features, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m not sure.”

“Tell me,” he stated, staring into her downtrodden eyes.

“I don’t know what to do.” When she met his gaze it was like fire. “I – I don’t understand how I can choose.”

Sirius had an inkling about what she was referring too. As always he kept a respectable distance, not wishing to overwhelm her, though the burning in his chest tried to will him to hold her.

“Choose?”

“I’ve noticed James sort of pining over Lily. And when he does it makes me sad. Like I’m not the only girl for him.”

You’re the only girl for me.

“But when it’s just us two it’s like nothing else matters. I really do like him – but he’s not the only one on my mind.”

Sirius swallowed hard, “Yes?”

She stared up at him, guilt plainly visible. “But I don’t exactly know how he feels.” She remembered the way Sirius had held her face back when she tumbled off the owlery tower. The thought made her cheeks redden.

Sirius noticed, feeling that familiar churning in his stomach, something he usually fought against. But his hand betrayed him, reaching out to graze her blush with just his fingertips. His head yelled at him to stop, but his heart yearned to go further.

“And if you knew, it would help?”

“The plainer the better.” Her breathing hitched at the way his gaze melted into hers.

And then he was just inches away, his breath just as unsteady as hers against her lips. The fire seared through them as they connected, (Y/N) going limp but Sirius clamping his hands on either side of her face.

Every ounce of him screamed of desperation, of a longing for this moment. It was making (Y/N) dizzy, her lungs momentarily forgetting how to work. Sirius pulled away, catching his breath and leaning his forehead against hers.

“Does that tell you plain enough?”

She shivered at his whisper, “In the only way you can tell it. That’s always been you, Sirius – few words, full action.” She caught herself smiling but being confused at the contorted look on his face.

“You should take the Easter holidays. Think it through.” He finally backed away, though his hands held onto her for a fraction of a second longer, “We’ll respect your decision, no matter what it is.”

And unable to stand her gaze any longer, he ran off to the solitude of the Black Lake.

~~~

Peter shuffled uncomfortably at the Hogsmeade train station, Remus steady at his side. Steady, but concentrating on calming his nerves.

“How long does it take to get off the train?”

Remus sighed, “She’s probably getting every free second she can before facing us.”

The two of them were instructed to escort (Y/N) back to the castle, both James and Sirius agreeing the coming conversation would be handled better nearer to their dormitories.

James was afraid (Y/N) would pull a fast one and choose Sirius, even though they had a more intimate relationship.

Sirius was afraid that (Y/N) would pick James regardless of his moment of vulnerability with her. He couldn’t help but convince himself that she would want someone more apt at demonstrating public displays of affection.

Therefore, the duty was laid to Remus and Peter, the two that would ensure her safety and counsel her where it was needed.

Remus was collecting his thoughts as she quietly stepped off the train and onto the platform. He quickly offered to carry her trunk to the nearest carriage, “(Y/N)! How was your holiday?”

She gave a heavier sigh than expected, “Not long enough.”

Peter tip toed around to give her a hug, “We missed you. All of us.”

She tried to hold back a grimace, but followed them to the carriage, “They haven’t been giving you grief, have they?” There was a pause that confirmed her suspicions, “Of course they would be.”

“They’re anxious to see you,” Remus stated, sitting beside Peter, “They’re worried about you.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Sirius more depressed. And James has dug an imprint in the rug from all his pacing,” Peter prattled, not taking much heed to his words. “It’s been a long week for them as well.”

(Y/N) frowned, “Yeah, I’ve been much the same. Thank you – for meeting me.”

The ride back up to the castle was mostly silent, Peter squirming and Remus remaining rigid. (Y/N) could feel them both wondering the same thing: what was her decision? It sent more anxiety flooding threw her at the thought.

Peter appeared to be getting at his wits end as the school loomed every closer, “(Y/N)… can I ask?”

“Hmm?”

He swallowed, “Who won?”

That took her aback. What an odd way to phrase it. “Won?” Remus attempted to subtly nudge his friend a warning, but (Y/N) quickly caught it. “You mean won my affections? Who beat the other? How silly – you make it sound like a competition.”

She smiled but felt a wave of paralysis at the stony response from the other two. Peter looked absolutely petrified as Remus seemed to collect himself quicker.

“Yes, a very silly way to put it. He meant, who did you choose? Of course.”

“Are you…” she peered at them, her mind overworking. “Are you hiding something from me?”

“No, not at all,” Remus said all too quickly, “We’re just looking out for our friends.”

(Y/N) seemed more and more skeptical. The way these two were sitting uncomfortably put her on edge. There was clearly something going on and she knew exactly who to target for further questioning.

“Peter?”

The small blonde boy widened his eyes in fear, knowing his own resolve will be corrupted immediately. Remus seemed to think this too, closing his eyes to hide his exhausted defeat.

“What are you hiding? Has it got something to do with James and Sirius?”

Peter felt his own head nod without consent from his mind. He also felt a second jab to the ribs from Remus.

“Well, what is it?” She felt her heart beat faster. She knew it had something to do with what she said before. “Is… does it have to do with some competition?”

Peter turned towards his taller friend with a pleading look, very quietly saying, “It was a kind of competition.”

~~~

James and Sirius waited in the grounds near the pumpkin patch that was now filled with spring weeds and flowers.

A new imprint in the dirt spoke of James’ pacing, his hands being wrung before him. He kept straightening his hair to no avail, his skewed glasses falling farther and farther down his nose. He couldn’t understand how Sirius could stand so still near him.

Sirius was a statue, the only evidence of life being the quickened pulse and strenuous breaths working his lungs. He was determined not to show his reaction to her picking James. He was practicing now – practicing in keeping his composure.

It got harder as he saw students begin to flood the school gates. He watched James pause his frantic steps, straining to find their friends. Sirius refrained from doing it too, knowing that if he let himself he would begin to unravel.

James clutched his fidgeting hands together, spotting (Y/N), Remus, and Peter near the back of the crowd. A grin split his features and he bounced on his toes, “There they are!”

The two of them had hardly spoken a word all week, each wondering how their friendship would be after one of them was chosen. It was still hard to feel that the ‘best man should win,’ when each hoped that they’d be picked.

Sirius peered at the three figures making their way towards them across the grounds. Remus and Peter seemed less eager to reach them, carrying a trunk and keeping their heads down. (Y/N), on the other hand, was determinedly marching her way over.

It was plain to see that those steps were fueled with a kind of vigor. A kind of anger. And it seemed like James was beginning to recognize it too. He retreated a few steps to stand beside Sirius.

“Does she look upset to you?”

“It looks like she’s crying,” Sirius muttered. He could feel himself beginning to snap and unravel against his better judgement.

And the closer she got, the truer the assessment was. Her face was blotched and twisted in a kind of fury, one that made her breaths come out in sputters.

“You…” her voice was weak and betrayed.

And both boys had an idea on what was happening, though neither wanted to admit it. James craned his neck to see the ashamed looks on Remus and Peter’s faces.

“Now, (Y/N),” he stated, his anxious excitement plummeting to fear. “I don’t know what you heard…”

Sirius felt the blood drain from his face. What little hope he was experiencing distinguished in an instant.

(Y/N) finally reached them, raising her hand and giving an almighty smack across James’ cheek. She stumbled backward and looked ready to deliver another to Sirius.

James staggered, holding his face, absolutely stunned. But Sirius straightened out, knowing that he deserved it. But (Y/N) couldn’t bring herself to do it again; she resorted to shoving Sirius away, hitting and pounding at his chest where she could.

“You… complete… arrogant… selfish… FUCKS!”

Cracks appeared in Sirius’ heart, his shoulders sinking to block her blows but not to stop her. She fumed, using her full force to push him away and retreat a few steps.

“A bloody COMPETITION? I suppose it was all some grand joke to you two.” She was sobbing now, fresh tears streaming down her already puffy cheeks. “Let’s see if we can get the stupid, naïve girl to fall in love with us – was that it?”

She paused for only a second, not wishing for a response just now, “I should have seen something what with the both of you wanting to suddenly be best friends with me out of the blue – and at the exact same time!” She ran her fingers harshly into her hair, “And it was all a LIE.”

Sirius started to shake his head, but James beat him to the first spoken word, “It’s not like that, (Y/N), not anymore.”

“Not ANYMORE?”

“Honest,” James tried to continue, “At first it was just to see who’d you like more. And now we – we both – feel very, very different.”

(Y/N) had her hands on her hips, not even bothering to wipe away her tears. “And that’s supposed to redeem the fact you did it in the first place?”

“No! Of course not, it’s just…” he looked towards the paralyzed Sirius, “You need to know that regardless of the intentions, we’ve both developed very real feelings for you.”

“Real enough to forget about Lily Evans?” she practically shrieked, “Did the rebound work for you?”

James stuttered, unable to form a worthy enough response. But (Y/N) didn’t need it, the look on his face was good enough. She instead rounded on Sirius, “And you.”

He set his jaw but blinked a few times. The burning, yearning in his chest was now aching – destroying him from the inside out.

“I suppose you think it’s funny trying to kill me to get my attention.”

The air left his lungs, “I… I never – I could never – find that funny.” But the hatred in her eyes was so real he thought nothing he said would take it away. It made him want to cower. “It was foolish and accidental how you fell. It wasn’t supposed to go that far.”

But she didn’t want to hear it. How he wished he could wipe her face clear, to kiss the pain away.

James outstretched a hand, “Please, (Y/N) – let’s go sit and talk. Allow us to apologize.”

She immediately started to shake her head, “I don’t need an apology. I couldn’t trust it anyway. I just wanted to see the look on your faces when I told you my decision. That I’ve made my choice.” She contorted her face into an unflattering sneer, “That neither of you get to win.”

She retreater farther, edging towards the castle, “Don’t you dare speak to me. Don’t you dare look at me. From this day on, you don’t exist in my mind. And you’re going to keep it that way.”

James took a hesitant step towards her but knew it was too late. She was stumbling away, uneasy on her exhausted feet. He felt his own eyes burning, not realizing that tears were flooding them. He let out a breath that stuttered and whimpered.

Sirius thought he could describe without a doubt the feeling of your heart being torn from your chest. He was beyond tears, beyond regret. There was no way he could recover from the despair that now encumbered him. He turned to the pained looks of Remus and Peter.

He saw their lips moving but could hear no noise. He found he couldn’t catch his breath.

This quite possibly could be the biggest mistake that either of them will make in their entire lives.

~~~

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[hockeywhy]

caught in the middle (2); m. barzal

PART 1 | PART 3 | PART 4 WARNINGS: language; there’s a suggestive scene in one of the flashbacks, but nothing more than that. WORD COUNT: 8.1k A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who read the first part! Your feedback got me so excited to continue working on this, and I hope you’ll enjoy this part also. I’ve been thinking about the story so far and its development, and I don’t see it ending at three parts like originally intended, so let’s see how it goes. Again, sections in italics represent flashbacks.

You swipe a palm across the mirror, brushing some of the condensation away and heave a sigh at your reflection. From beyond the door, you can just barely make out the sound of footsteps across the parquet of the living room accompanied by what was undoubtedly the slide of suitcase wheels. The room is otherwise quiet, no television on or music to provide a distraction or perhaps a little more noise and now more than ever, you know what it means when they say silence can be deafening. It makes you feel more exposed, anxiety heightened as if you should do anything in your power to try and lighten the mood but you’ve had countless of experiences in which trying too hard rarely paid off - if ever, really. Mat hadn’t said much either aside from letting you know you could have the bed as the couch could be converted into one and there were spare pillows and covers stored neatly in one of the cupboards, so you simply thanked him then called dibs on being the first to shower. 

It isn’t running away, you remind yourself, head bowed. It’s buying some extra time. 

Not only is this the first time in months you are to be in Mat’s presence for longer than a few minutes, but this is also the first time you and Mat would spend the night separated by a wall when previously, you couldn’t seem to be able to get close enough to one another. Before this, enough wasn’t quite enough. Before this, you’d count the minutes to when you could get home and be with Mat. It’s strange to be so close to him, to need to be so close to him, and yet neither of you can find comfort in that any longer. 

You squeeze your eyes shut tightly until you see stars behind them, then open them a few seconds later and blink away the brief daze. Like a presenter about to walk on a stage in front of thousands, you take a deep breath and exhale it quickly before proceeding to replace the towel around your body with one of the hotel issued robes.

You crack the door open just a little, briefly taking a peek of Mat right as he begins wrestling with opening the couch. There’s more grunting and turning one way or the other to peek at the inner mechanisms than there is actually succeeding in stretching it out and you can’t help the feelings of guilt that course through you. But it’s not like you can imagine being in the same bed as him again and trying to check for any additional spare rooms with reception is entirely out of question. There’s no way you’d be able to do that without anyone catching on to that and questioning it. This isn’t the weekend for it, after all. The last thing you need is to take or share the limelight. 

Mat must’ve felt your presence because he turns to look at you over his shoulder, and he takes that as a cue to give himself a break from wrestling with the couch. He huffs tiredly, standing up and brushing his palms against his jeans.

“All yours,” you say, stepping away from the bathroom door, the clothes you wore on the drive over held closely against your chest. “No luck with that yet?” 

“I’ll have a look at it later,” Mat responds, frowning down at the couch.

He stands rooted to the spot looking down at it as if it offended him, hands on hips and all, while you look at him glued to your own space halfway between the bathroom and the door to the bedroom of the suite. In a manner you can’t quite explain, it feels almost as if time stops in place because of course, your luck is that bad apparently: heaven forbid it would’ve done that at a better time in your life. He appears to be lost in thought, so despite yourself, you make the most of this moment. 

You look at his profile and recall how many times you cradled his head in your hands, pulling him in to kiss him: his cheeks, his forehead, his mouth, lips trailing along the line of his jaw. You think of the countless times in which his lips pressed against yours and every inch on your body and recall how his voice emanated warmth and love, and during those moments, you thought nothing and no one would be able to tear you apart from each other. You look at his hair and if you truly take the time to focus, you can easily recall the texture of those strands, just the perfect length for your fingers to twirl and play with, and how you would often detect notes of vanilla, coconut and something flowery - you shampoo, because he loved it so much. Your eyes trail down the expanse of his torso and remember the countless times his body was pressed against your own and how each and every time you thought this is where I’m safest. You look at his hands and still feel the softness of them upon your own and even know, you can still picture the way your fingers interlocked with his own and they fit perfectly. 

A shortness of breath makes you cough quietly, eyes blinking rapidly at the sudden blurriness and before Mat can look your way, you quickly cover the distance to the room and the door latches closed behind you with a soft click. 

Palms pressed against your mouth to muffle any sounds, you squeeze your eyes as tightly as you can and slide down against the wood until you’re down on the floor and pray to whoever or whatever may be listening that Mat can’t hear the sobs you’re trying so hard to hold back despite this battle having been lost before you even had a chance to stand against it.

You know now as well as you knew it back then: you miss Mat and you love him, and you’re terrified that a time when all of these feelings will be nothing but dull memories will never come.

*

“Holy shit, that was cool.” 

Mat shifts his body, turning so that he can prop himself up on his forearms, one on each side of your body. You look down at him, fingers falling out from his hair and he arches an eyebrow.

“I can do that with my eyes closed,” he declares.

You blink, a little confused, and then it dawns on you. “Pff.” A short laugh leaves your mouth and that seems to prompt Mat to narrow his eyes at you. Two can play the game, and you’re a pro at keeping up with him. “I mean, you say you can but you didn’t score a goal like that yet, so what makes you so sure?” 

On TV, the commentators pour praise on the unique between-the-legs goal scored and you make an entire show out of admiring the replay, whistling quietly. Mat gently tips your head away from the TV and he continues holding on to your chin to prevent you from looking away a second time. 

“Mark my words, baby. I’ll do it at our next game and then you’ll see. It’ll be ten times cooler,” he promises, determination backing his every word and it makes you grin because you know Mat is a man of his word and you can already imagine him trying his damnest to make that happen. 

Still, you hum contemplatively, not quite wanting to give in to him so quickly. You know Mat’s playful display of ‘jealousy’ was nothing but a front. It was one of his many ways of saying look at me or give me attention, any variant of an indirect way of asking you to reiterate your love towards him simply because he loved hearing the reassurance. Not that you could imagine feeling any other way towards him; not that you’d want to have it any other way. That, and, well, Mat could be a bit of a baby sometimes. 

“Do that,” you begin, and this time, it’s your hand under his chin, encouraging him to come closer, closer, closer until his warm breath collides with your own, “and I’ll make your congratulations, you’re so cool award the most unforgettable one so far.” 

You know your words would put a gleam in his eyes, that unmistakable hitch of his breath and the curve of a smirk on his lips. He crawls a bit further up until he’s almost nose to nose with you and instinctively, you raise a leg and wrap it over his waist, squeezing a little. He’s close enough, practically glued to you, but it’s the first evening you get to have him all to yourself after weeks of away games and you want all of him. As does he. Mat leans down to peck your lips once, twice, three times and he whispers an ‘oh yeah?’ that makes goosebumps form across your skin. 

“Mhm,” you hum and this time, you crane your neck to kiss him, arms wrapping around his neck, fingers gently grazing along the back of his neck. He trembles ever so lightly in your hold and you know that has nothing to do with the temperature in the apartment because it’s warm, just right. “Do it for me, Mat. Show off.” 

He laughs quietly against your lips and he begins trailing kisses from your jaw to the side of your neck and you tip your head back for him, eyes fluttering closed as a content sigh leaves your parted lips. There’s a shift of material and moments later, Mat’s slightly calloused palms crawl underneath the t-shirt that was once him but you claimed as your own months ago. It’s big around you, sleeves coming up to your elbows and you know that his last name is written in big bold white letters on the back although it’s pretty washed out now. His lips are now on your exposed stomach, butterfly kisses peppering your warm skin and you bite your lip while watching him do this. Strands of unstyled jet black hair tickle as he moves and you giggle quietly. It’s the sound of it that makes Mat look up and there’s a wicked smile on his lips. Moving swiftly, he sits back on the couch and pulls you to straddle his lap, body yielding to him before he gives you the control. Do what you want, however you want it. 

It’s your turn to slide your hands under his shirt and he doesn’t hesitate to stretch his arms up so that you can remove it for him, discarding it wherever it may fall. You slide your thumb against his lower lip and Mat barely just manages a chaste kiss to it before you lower your head down to kiss him and his lips part, the movement automatic. It’s the sort of kiss that’s sloppy and hot and you know you’ll remember it for days; hell, he’ll remember it for days, asking you to do that thing you did in the early hours of the morning or long after the sun has gone down or bringing it up over the phone when it’s just him and no one else in a hotel room hundreds of miles away from home, missing everything that has to do with you.

“Fuck,” he exhales, breathless and flushed once you both part from the kiss. You can’t help but grin proudly at how his eyes flutter closed and he stills in your arms though you know adrenaline pumps through his body the same way it does through yours. “I don’t think I can make it to the bedroom,” he admits and you burst into laughter. 

“Yeah, no shit,” you agree and just to make a point out of it, you relax your body so that you’re sitting back on his lap and there’s no mistaking whatsoever that he’s hard. “Well, there’s no rush anyway. We have all the time in the world, and an entire place to ourselves so…” you trail off, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. 

Mat opens his eyes and moves his hands from your hips to cradle your face, holding you in place to peck your lips. “So, I’m gonna love you so hard, it might just give that award of yours a run for its money.” 

You arch an eyebrow, pulling back enough so that you can tug the t-shirt over your head, dropping it to join his. “Walk the talk, Barzy,” you say.

He didn’t need any more encouragement than you already gave, but your words kick him into action almost instantly. 

*

A sharp thwack sound catches your attention and you look over in the distance to where Mat looks off in the distance while Tito prepares for his turn. It’s too far for you to see where the ball went but judging by Mat’s reaction, it’s obvious he didn’t quite nail whatever he intended to do. Tito probably chirps him for it because Mat throws a punch at his arm that you know is so light that probably neither of them felt it. Still, they laugh and the sound barely just carries over to where you’re sat. 

“He’s like that now, but if you’d seen him before the two of you got here…” Elise trails off and you just about manage to see her shake her head as if words wouldn’t even be sufficient in describing how Tito was. Still, there’s just so much fondness in her expression as she looks towards him out on the golf course that it makes you warmer than the light fleece blanket you wrapped around your shoulders. 

“You’d think it’d be the other way around,” you say.

“You’d think!” Elise repeats. “The past two mornings, he got up at who fucking knows when and went for a run. Not even a casual jog or whatever, but you’d think he’s been training for the Olympics.” 

You burst into laughter at the image that forms in your head of Tito being so full of nervous energy that he becomes the metaphorical lion in a cage. Still, it doesn’t surprise you as much as you thought it would. While away, you and Tito have been in contact occasionally either through texts or through the phone and often, he’d begin by saying “what do you think she’d say to XYZ”. He never failed to amuse you because many of his concerns were so small, but you could only imagine what it’d be like to be in his shoes: they were about to tie the knot and this isn’t exactly a day to day type of event. Elise was at that point also, back when preparations for it were just kicking off and most of their days consisted of appointment after appointment with wedding planners that occasionally made her feel as if she’d never be able to pick from all the choices laid out to her. With the day just around the corner, she seems more content, more relaxed. Of course, her nerves are still there but Elise has the sort of air around her that puts you under the impression it wouldn’t be impossible for her to conquer the world in the next hour if she suddenly decides to. 

You reach for your drink, twirling the straw around the glass before taking a sip from it. The tang of citrus is refreshing but you do need a quick sip of water to mellow the sharpness of alcohol mixed in. 

“Want to bet he’ll be the one crying when he sees you walk the aisle?” you ask her, wiggling your eyebrows at her suggestively. 

Elise smiles, a small almost shy smile as she diverts her gaze towards her own drink. She takes a sip from it but she still smiles around the straw. “Let’s hope I don’t start first and end up tripping on my way there.” She physically cringes at the thought of it, eyes squeezing shut and shoulders trembling before she quickly waves her hands as if trying to dismiss the idea. “Oh god, no, I can’t think of it otherwise it’ll happen.”

“You’ll be fine,” you assure her, reaching to grasp her hand and Elise welcomes the gesture, squeezing your own in return but still holds on to it as if for dear life. “I promise. It’ll go by so smoothly and everything will be perfect.”

“I’ll take your word for it. You’re usually right.” 

“Not always,” you correct her, lightheartedly while trying to prevent your mind from beginning a count of the amount of times you’ve been wrong. You don’t need that spoiling your mood or worse, the evening overall.

Elise ponders on that. “Actually, you’re right. Remember before you left and said Mat would be fine, he’s a big boy, after I said it’ll be hard for him to get used to it?” You swallow uncomfortably. Yes, you remember that. Clear as if it only happened yesterday. “Well, you were wrong about that for sure.”

Your mouth feels dry and it’s as if all energy has been sucked out of you suddenly, and all in one go. You don’t want to have this conversation and you certainly don’t want to look into this much more than you should. After all, you and Mat agreed you’ll put up a front so for all you know, he may just be a better actor than you imagined he’d be. Mat was only putting on an attitude everyone expected him to have and that’s all there is to it. You did it too, after all. When Elise would call or come down to Baltimore and Mat would come up in conversation, you told her how much you missed him; how even if you called and FaceTimed, it wasn’t enough. 

“So then come back,” she’d tell you. “It’s not like they wouldn’t want you back in New York, if it’s work related.” 

“Mat understands,” you’d push back each time. “Besides, he’s coming over this weekend,” you’d add and make a note to text him so that he doesn’t end up in some New York bar with Tito, Elise and other people when he should be in Baltimore instead. 

It was selfish and restricting, and you’d apologise for it but each time, Mat would brush it off without fail. 

It’s fine, he’d assure through text. I wanted an excuse to spend the weekend in, anyway.

“I’m sure he was exaggerating most of the time,” you tell Elise dismissively, carefully sliding your hand from hers as you lean back in the plush seat and pull the blanket a little tighter around your shoulders. 

You try not to look at Elise because you know the expression she wears: it’s serious; the type of look that she puts on whenever you try to make light of a serious situation, practically reading don’t lie to yourself and mostly importantly, don’t try and bamboozle me. It never works. Not with her. 

“Y/N.” Your name falls from her mouth sharply and you can’t help but direct your gaze back to her. “I don’t know Mat like you do, maybe not even as well as Tito does, but you’d think he was going through heartbreak when you left. Moping, I can put up with and distract from so believe me when I say that wasn’t what he was doing. You’ve seen his games, right? You saw how it even affected him on ice.”

You bite on your back teeth, jaw squaring. As much as you wanted to keep yourself away from anything to do with Mat, you couldn’t help but switch back to his games whenever they were on, doing some childish back and forth between channels. Mat did play differently. Still giving it his best, but aggressively; sometimes, he even fell for whatever bait the opposing team would throw at him in the form of chirps and you didn’t need to be a lip-reading expert to know he’d always respond. Once or twice, he landed himself in the penalty box for minor misconducts that seemed so out of character for him. 

“It’s fine now,” you say, in hopes of leading out of this subject. “I’m back in New York for a while, so it’s fine now.”

“Is it?” She asks, and you know this isn’t just because of what she saw of Mat without you. She questions it because she’s also seen you without Mat. “Was there… Uh. Was there more to it?” She cringes a little, and quickly tries to dismiss herself with a wave of her hand. “Don’t feel obliged to tell me if you don’t want to. It does seem like you guys are fine, but… You know I’m here for you, right?” 

You force a smile and nod quickly.

The first few weeks in Baltimore gave you a good taste of what your own personal little hell was like. You didn’t have Elise, you didn’t have Rachel, you had none of your closest friends and it felt like a lot of the after-work drinks you’d go on with your new colleagues were mostly out of your own desperation to stretch the day longer, essentially avoiding returning to an empty place. Generally, you adapt well to situations and people, but you were effectively trying to build afresh from the ground up and on bad days, the really awful ones when loneliness and heartache reared their ugliest faces towards you, there was no one for you to pour your most honest feelings out to. Several times, you wanted to reach out to Elise and come clean but it wouldn’t be fair. She was in the full swing of preparing for her wedding and the last thing you wanted to do is go crying to her. 

Of course, there was no Mat either. There was no Mat because there was no such thing as breaks in a relationship so you gave him the thing you were certain he tried to avoid voicing, but definitely referred to: a break-up. 

“No, nothing else to it than that,” you assure her, breaking your own train of thought while simultaneously giving yourself a mental pat on the back for the ease with which you weaved your story. “I mean, it’s been a bit weird to be apart over the period, especially since we didn’t know what’s to come, work-wise, but we’re fine now.”

“You two know best what’s good for the both of you and your relationship,” Elise says, “but take it from me: get away together if you can. It’s not easy, you know. Doing your own thing while he does his, progressing in what you’re both best at but sometimes, it gets to you. The distance, the days gone by with them on the road, the worry that maybe, just maybe, they’ll come back and they won’t be the same. I had that worry also once too, you know.”

The admission takes you by surprise. Elise laughs quietly at the sight of your slightly widened eyes because you haven’t heard this before. Sure, she told you of missing Tito while the Islanders were off to away games but she never truly admitted the thoughts coursing through her mind. 

“He never once gave me reasons to doubt him, but at the back of my mind, I’d be so worried. You know how the stereotype surrounding athletes goes.” She rolls her eyes, and you know exactly what she’s referring to. “Tito’s handsome and young and his face is on TV, but the fact that a man is taken hasn’t exactly stopped people before. I can’t tell you how many times I waited—no. Expected him to come back and be different, then tell me it’s over. Seriously, I lost track. One day, he called me out on it though.” She takes a break to sip from her drink and look out towards the golf course and you do too. It’s probably not long now before their game will be over. “He’d just gotten back the night before and to me, he seemed a little weird. Looking back on it, he was just exhausted. They didn’t have their best performance, but I didn’t even think of that. In my head, I already had this entire scenario planned that that was it.

“In the morning, I snapped at him. I wish I could just forget it now because it’s so embarrassing but I did it, and there’s no brushing that under the carpet. I was like, you were different last night and you were different through text. I told him he was acting different and when he asked what I meant, I said, you’re seeing someone else, aren’t you?” She physically cringes at the memory and in your chest, your heart races. It’s almost identical to your own anxieties during those final moments of your relationship with Mat, and it seems as if you’re merely listening to someone recite your story back to you rather than their own. “Didn’t think of the games, didn’t think he might be down and distant because he blamed himself for some of the missed shots. Instead, I let my own insecurities get the best of me. I overlooked all we’ve done together so far, overlooked the simple fact that I had nothing to back up my accusation and instead, I took it out on him.”

“Elise… what the— you never mentioned this. When did all of this happen?” 

“Two years ago now, probably. We joke about it every now and then, but I couldn’t imagine telling anyone what happened. I felt so stupid after we dealt with it.” She sighs, shaking her head incredulously at the situation. “What we really needed was some time away. We left as soon as the season ended, renting out a little place outside of Montreal and we talked, Y/N. Not casual, day-to-day things, but he asked me where I see us going. I told him honestly, I don’t know and he said it’s not good enough and not fair for our relationship and us, individually. He’s the one who brought up marrying, after the dust settled.” 

The brief silence that falls between the two of you leaves your head buzzing with questions, with possibilities, with recollections of you-and-Mat but also of you and Mat during what would be your last moments together. There is a continuous string of what ifs rolling through your mind at such rapid speed that they blend in together until you can’t tell one statement apart from the next. You free a hand from the confines of the blanket, bringing it up to rub lightly at the side of your head while Elise stares off in the distance, a pensive look on her face. There are things she’ll tell you and others, and then there are things she will keep private for herself and Tito only, and you respect that. Still, you find the need of actually biting down onto your tongue to ask How?

How did you make it work? How did you talk with each other? How did you prevent a train wreck? How did you accept what happened, and got to this point? 

You blink and that’s when you realise tears built up in your eyes and when Elise focuses back to the present, you realise she is in a similar position. You both begin laughing, dabbing at your eyes.

“How did you manage to make each other cry?” 

The incredulity in Tito’s voice makes you and Elise burst into laughter again, louder and less tearful now.

While Elise assure Tito there’s nothing to worry about and dismisses the tears as being wedding related, Mat takes the seat next to yours on the small two-seater, throwing you a what happened look. You shake your head, rubbing lightly at your cheeks to brush away any remaining stray tears. 

“Wedding tears,” you confirm to him also because he doesn’t cease staring at you, and though it’s clear he’s not entirely convinced by that, it’s easy to let it slide. “Did you win?” 

Mat shakes his head and reaches for the water glass nearest to him. You don’t bother telling him it’s yours and figure it might come across as weird to the couple across from you anyway. “I let him win to give him a boost of confidence,” Mat tells you and snickers when Tito complains that it isn’t true.

Dismissing Tito’s effort at trying to shut that down, you hum quietly. “That sounds fair to me,” you tell Mat and then, to Tito, “did he let you win properly?”

Tito rolls his eyes while Elise lets out an ‘aww’ in consolation, and leans over to peck his cheek. “He put up a decent fight, I suppose. It’s been a while since he had this much energy, but he’s never been the best at golf.”

“He’s not the worst either,” you defend because you’ve always done that and it comes to you reflexively. You feel Mat’s eyes on you, but you keep yours carefully trained on the couple ahead. 

“You say that because you’re supposed to,” Elise argues and she leans comfortably against Tito’s side. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulls her closer to kiss the top of her head and when he looks back towards you, he grins proudly. 

You huff, then shift in your seat to look at Mat properly. “If I was bad at something, would you say I didn’t because you’re supposed to?” You ask, in an attempt to prove your point, and pitch your voice just a little to imitate Elise’s. 

“Are you bad at something?” He pitches his question like a rhetorical one and across from you, Tito and Elise coo over the response that sends a wave of heat through your body. 

You narrow your eyes at him, bumping your knee against his own. “I absolutely cannot stop properly on skates.”

“Oh.” Mat sighs, takes a sip of water and his shoulders slump. “Yeah, I forgot about that. Don’t tell me you still—“ You quickly knock your knee against his again, a silent warning which you doubt is the most subtle of ones, but Mat changes course smoothly. “After all those hours we spent on ice…” He shakes his head slowly in disappointment, but it’s not like you blame him or take it personally.

You lost track of how often Mat would carefully instruct you through making proper stops on ice, only for you to still end up relying on crashing against the barriers. Although you’d laugh at it time and time again, Mat would always freak out over it, flooding you with endless are you okay questions out of sheer fear you’d end up hurt.

“Sorry we can’t all be pros,” you mumble, eyes rolling but there’s no heat behind this: it’s lighthearted bickering, a conversation that flows easily and you let it go by like this, without overthinking it out of sheer fear you’ll end up spoiling it. 

You all fall into discussions revolving around the wedding, mostly focusing on the events leading up to it. It takes you back to months ago when evenings like these were almost regular. You, Mat, Elise and Tito would hang out either at each other’s places or somewhere out in town and you’d talk until one of you would realise it was the early hours of the morning. 

It’s easy to get swept back into the comforting feeling that brings you. So much so, that you don’t really think much of it when you open up your blanket and hold a half of it out to Mat, who accepts it wordlessly and settles in closer to you. Arm pressed again arm, leg pressed against leg, you can’t find it in you to pour energy into making a conscious effort of shifting in such way that you place some distance between the two of you without it being odd. You’re convinced neither Elise nor Tito are acutely aware of every minor shift in your body language or tone, but a part of you remains worried about it. So, you stay in your place and enjoy the extra bit of warmth Mat’s body next to yours provides and pretend what the two of you are doing is perfectly okay. 

*

“I can’t do it,” you sigh, unable to keep the frustration out of your voice as you glare down at your skates. 

“I couldn’t do it in one day either, baby, we just need to keep practicing,” Mat encourages you gently and he takes hold of your hands as he begins skating backwards, dragging you forwards. 

You throw your head back in frustration, occasionally giving yourself a bit of a push to keep up with him. “It’s not so bad though, using the barriers to stop.” 

Mat fixes you with a pointed stare. “Remember that time when you just zoomed across the entire rink and ended up—“

“No, no—“

“—with the worst bruise—“

“— we don’t talk—“

“— across your ribs—“

“— about it!”

“— because you crashed into the barriers?” Mat continues, letting go of your hands to skate backwards a little further. “Because I do, and I promised myself and you that it won’t happen again. It’s for your safety above anything else.”

You groan quietly, pushing forward to catch up to him. Mat stretches out his arms, letting you bump against his body once you reach him and you bury your head against his chest while you both come to a stop in the middle of the rink. You’re pretty certain that had you been on public ice, you would’ve had plenty of stares and disgruntled skaters passing by but to your luck, the ice at Nassau had an off-day from training so you and Mat were permitted to make the most of it. 

You and Mat often took to the ice and of course the level in skill was entirely different between the two of you, but you were grateful you knew enough to get by without making a fool of yourself in public. Then again, it’s not like you really had to worry about it much: Mat was always there by your side, even if you’d sometimes send him off to just enjoy it however he wanted to and you’d catch up to him eventually.

“I’m enjoying it,” he’d assure you without fail. “I’m with you, so I’m not missing out on anything.”

“You can be so unbelievably cheesy sometimes,” you’d tell him without heat because you loved it, and you were pretty sure he was well aware of it and considered it encouragement.

You pull away from him and he lets you go ahead while he trails behind you slowly. The silence between you is filled by the slashing of blades against the ice, the sound occasionally louder and echoing further whenever Mat pushes ahead with more force. You smile to yourself whenever you feel you can afford to draw some of your concentration away from your own skating to catch sight of Mat. Much to your displeasure though, a feeling of tightness forms in your chest and without thinking of it, you press a hand to your chest, rubbing against it lightly as if that might ease it but to no avail.

“What’s on your mind, baby?” Mat asks once he slows down and twirls on his skates so he skates backwards in order to face you. 

“What? Oh, nothing. I was only trying to picture how well you’d pull of figure skating.” 

Mat scrunches up his face a little. “Mh, not very well, I think, but nice try.” He reaches out for your hand and you let him take it so he leads you around the rink. “What’s on your mind really?” He insists. 

Bite the bullet, you think. Try it.

“Couple of work stuff, nothing that important,” you begin carefully and when Mat doesn’t respond, you press on. “Turns out our branch in Baltimore is looking to expand a little more. There’s been a consultation completed there and recommendations all point towards the potential for growth. There’s been a few talks in a few departments, including my own, about the possibility of uh, some people heading out there.”

Mat nods slowly, a contemplative look on his face. “Sounds pretty good for them, then. Do they have any idea who might be involved in that from your office?” 

“Not yet, and anyway, they’ll consult first with anyone who might consider relocating,” you inform him lightly, shrugging.

There’s no beating around the bush with Mat though. He reads you like an open book. “There’s no hockey teams there, huh?” 

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Unfortunately, no.”

“And would you want to go there?” 

“Temporarily? I wouldn’t say no, honestly. I have a few ideas and I think they’d fit in great with a smaller but growing branch.”

Mat slows down carefully to not trip you or catch you by surprise and once you also come to a halt, he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead. “Give them just a taste of what you can do and they’ll want to keep you there.” 

“It’s rich of you to assume they wouldn’t go for someone in a more senior position than my own.”

“It’s rich of you to assume they’d skip out on you,” Mat parrots and you laugh softly. “It wouldn’t be so bad if you say so and it’s a temporary thing.” 

You ponder his words for a moment, humming quietly. You didn’t expect anything less from Mat: he’s always been supportive, ready to vouch for you and be the first to jump in your corner, but you can’t help but wonder if he’d stand by his words if you were to tell him there was more to it than that. Because a relocation wouldn’t mean a month or two. Maybe not even a half year. A relocation could very well be anywhere upwards of one year, but you don’t have the heart to tell him that just yet. Not when anything isn’t concrete, not when you’re hardly even sure this is a step you’d even want to consider.

You’ll cross that bridge if you get there. When you get there.

*

You roll on your back and huff quietly, throwing an arm over your forehead. The room is dark and you can barely just make out the metal shape of the spotlights dotting the ceiling, so you try focusing on one that gleams just a little more in the hopes that your eyes will start to feel heavy and finally, finally you can fall asleep. In your mind, you count to ten and when that doesn’t work, you count to twenty then try to thirty but stop at fourteen and sit up. You want to cry and the feeling of needing to do that overwhelms you, though that’s quickly replaced by frustration when even a single tear won’t blur your vision. It seemed like that came to you so easily throughout the day, but when you need it most in hopes of it exhausting you, it doesn’t happen. Naturally. 

Your gaze drifts towards the door which is just ever so slightly parted and in the silence of the night, you can make out the unmistakable creak of mattress springs shifting. It’s not a gentle movement though. It happens again just moments later and it’s as if your body responds to it without your mind consenting. Slowly, you tip-toe your way across the room and towards the door, thankful you don’t need to press down on the handle but rather, pull it ever so slightly so you can just see through the crack. 

The living room basks in darkness and the only clear light source comes from a digital clock on a mantle. The blue numbers indicate it’s just a little past one in the morning. The thicker curtains haven’t been pulled over the windows properly, so very low light from outside filters in, but barely just. Again, the mattress creaks and you shuffle sideways behind the door as if you’d be seen. There’s no chance of that happening whatsoever. Again, the creaking. Harsher now, more frustrated and you recognise your own routine over the past hour or so since you climbed in bed and called it a day. You lick your lips, eyes falling shut briefly and you barely just press your forehead to the cold door. Count backwards from five and on one, you pull open the door properly and step into the living room.

“Get in the bed, Mat.”

Silence. You rub at your forehead, a little irritated. 

“I know you’re not sleeping, so don’t try to pretend,” you tell him but your voice doesn’t quite pack the punch it should have. “That thing keeps squeaking and it’s keeping me up. Get in the bed, Mat.” 

“Just close the door if you can’t sleep,” he says. 

Huffing quietly, you step further in the living room and it takes a while for your eyes to get used to the darkness but soon enough, you can just make out Mat’s shape in the pull-out bed. He faces the windows, back towards you and you’ve no doubt the pull-out couch is sturdy and decently comfortable but you hate it. You hate the sight of it, you hate the idea of him in it, you hate everything about this. 

“Please, Mat. I…” you trail off, running both hands across your face before they drop to your sides with a noticeable smack sound. “I swear I’d still hearing the creaking through the walls. I can’t fall asleep with it, it’s driving me insane so please,” you plea, exhausted yet weirdly tuned into your emotions - and they’re all overwhelming. If you were wondering why you couldn’t cry just moments ago, it sure feels as if you’re standing right at the very edge of a breakdown right now. The timing couldn’t be worse. “Get in the bed, Mat,” you repeat once again, voice low and tired.

There’s a moment of stillness during which you stand there, feeling defeated and ashamed while Mat lies just ahead of you and you wonder what goes on through his mind. Not for the first time, you wish you had the power to hear it all regardless of how much worse it’d make you feel. And then, he moves. He sits up and there’s some shuffling of bedsheets, and moments later, he’s moving past you into the room with a pillow under his arm even if there’s plenty on the bed already. You allow yourself a brief second to draw in a silent breath of air then release it before following after him. This time, you circle around the bed frame because Mat settled on the right side. He always took the right side because that’s what you agreed on years ago.

You pull the bedsheets up to your nose and open your mouth ready to say something. But what more is there to say? 

“Do you ever think where it went wrong?” 

Mat’s question takes you by surprise and you swallow the lump in your throat uncomfortably. The it is more of a we, but it makes it feel just a little more impersonal though it doesn’t quite soften the blow it delivers. You wish you could curl into a ball, grasp the covers tightly around your body like a cocoon but you’re rooted to your place and the most you can do is grab at the sheets with your fingers tightly. If it wasn’t for the material, you’re convinced your nails would dig into your palms and leave half moons there that would hurt like a bitch. 

“I did,” you tell him, at last. 

“I do,” Mat admits without hesitating, without needing you to prompt him and you don’t miss the way he phrases it as if this is a thing he continues to do in the present. But his tone is calculated, detached and you can’t help but wonder whether that’s true or you’re about to let yourself get roped into a blame game you’ve already played before. 

You lost it, of course. But you try not to think about how bitter it felt. You think there might be something lodged in your throat, something that resembles an apology you owe him, but every time it feels as if you’ll let it slip past your mouth, invisible walls are built up and nothing gets past those. 

“I think I lost you somewhere along the way,” he continues because this is a thing that Mat does: he doesn’t let something slip past him so easily. Not always, anyway. “And I don’t think I did enough to meet you halfway.” A pause and you barely just shift under the blankets. Your arm brushes against soft cotton and belatedly, you realise that’s his spare pillow between the two of you. You really do hate everything about this. “I don’t think you did either,” he admits.

You have to give it to him: he has guts. And you really hate that you can’t bring yourself to let your own show, even in the dark. Especially in the dark, where your faces are hidden and your bodies are separated by a flimsy pillow and there’s a chance that you might both forget this in the morning or pass it off as a lucid dream. It’s a small chance, but existent nevertheless. 

“What good will it do us if we keep thinking about it?” You ask, but it’s directed more at yourself than it is to him.

Your mind betrays you by giving you the answer: it won’t change the past, but it may very well change the future. And your heart throbs rapidly at the thought and there’s heat in your belly and adrenaline in your veins, and there’s an explosion of what ifs coursing through your mind even if you know it’s too late. Because it must be, right?

“Let it go, Mat,” you tell him and shift under the covers, turning your back to him and curling up underneath the covers. “Go to sleep.”

He scoffs ever so quietly, but you pick up on the sound because there’s nothing else to distract you from it. “Right, sorry. I forgot you give up just like that now.”

You frown, glaring at the darkness ahead. “It’s not me giving up, Mat. It’s called me being rational about it.” You sigh, eyes closing and you press your fingers against them until you see stars behind them. “What are you hoping to get out of this?”

“Don’t know.” Mat sighs and the bed shifts. His voice sounds quieter and you wonder if he turned his back to you in return. “Maybe some proper closure, I guess. I wouldn’t call what happened then and what’s happening now a… what did you call it? A clean break?”

“And you want it now at like, what, one in the morning? Will that make you go to sleep?” 

“Dunno,” Mat murmurs and it’s obvious his voice is heavy with exhaustion. “Maybe.” 

You push down the memories threatening to squeeze their way at the forefront of your mind because you’d be at it all night without doubt. The silence lingers between you, undisrupted, and you manage to count to twenty five in your mind slowly before you carefully turn your head to look over your shoulder. Your heart jumps in your throat. Mat is on his side facing you and his eyes are closed. You can’t be certain that he managed to fall asleep but his breathing seems steady enough. Ever so carefully, you turn until you’re on your back again and cast your gaze upwards towards the ceiling. 

“I’d sleep, but probably not a great deal.”

Mat’s voice, silent as it is, catches you by surprise and you jolt ever so slightly. The movement doesn’t seem to disturb him though. He remains still as a statue and despite the darkness, you can’t find it in you to look towards him. It doesn’t mean your skin doesn’t tingle in that very odd way it does whenever someone looks at you. You close your eyes and throw an arm over them for extra measure. 

“Just go to sleep, Mat,” you whisper.

You blame not finding it in you to give him what he wants on the sudden exhaustion coursing through you, but there’s always tomorrow. If he insists on it, you can assure him there’s always tomorrow. 

But Mat doesn’t force the subject and soon enough, you feel your shoulder relaxing, your body settling against the mattress and a familiar lull pulls you away from consciousness. 

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

for @bend-me-shape-me's spn advent calendar 2020. prompt: carols.

dedicated to @one-more-offbeat-anthem!! happy birthday <3

After Chuck's defeated, and Billie's gone, and the Empty has been bargained with (semantics, any of the Winchesters would say if you asked one of the four to elaborate) into returning Cas in exchange for eternal sleep, there's peace.

After they're done, and really done, there's time.

A moment to breathe, a minute to look at the clouds, and hours stretching endless, days on end, resonating with something resembling quiet.

And then, there's a guitar.

*

"Nope." Dean declares. "Never seen that thing in here before. And I once did Christmas inventory by myself, so I should know."

Sam snickers at Dean's cavalier tone. He'd been content to examine the instrument from a distance, unlike his brother, but that didn't mean he wasn't paying attention. "You had to do it yourself, Dean. Those were the exact words of the bet."

"I was drunk, and you hustled me!"

"You've known I play poker my entire life!"

"Well, yeah." Dean flashes his best shit-eating grin. "But you've sucked, your entire life, so —"

"— sure I have —"

"— your entire life has really just been a very long, very lame hustle!" Dean spreads his arms in a display of triumph. "And ergo, you hustled me into Christmas inventory-ing. The case is rested, your honor."

"That's not how you say —"

"Sam. Dean." Cas interjects, loud and exasperated. Sam shuts up immediately, eyes falling to his lap, while Dean exchanges a sheepish look with Cas (and Jack, who to his credit, seemed to be unaffected by the mini-feud. But that's less the part about him being God-Lite and more about him being himself. A kid who grew up watching his dads bicker endlessly and mostly, uneventfully, and has come to terms with it as a primary aspect of (at least, his) family.)

Cas, as usual, puts up with less of their crap. "Is this really necessary right now?"

Dean loves him for it, except when it's targeted at Dean and since that's kind of a lot, he isn't sure he loves it, or just loves Cas and generalises the things he does under the wider bracket of Cas.

"And if it's not," Cas goes on, using what is probably his I-led-garrisons-in-heaven voice, which automatically sends a shiver up Dean's spine. "Can we agree the guitar is, somehow, a recent addition and leave it at that?"

Sam nods slightly, apologetic. Dean just rolls his eyes, but it's a yes. (Everyone there knows it's a yes.)

"It's not cursed." Jack cuts in brightly. "Or out of the ordinary at all."

"So," Dean blinks. "We just happen to have an awesome new guitar show up, completely randomly, in this top secret Bunker no one know about, minus any ulterior motives or death curses?"

Jack grins. "Yes."

"Cool." Dean says immediately, and Sam huffs an amused laugh. He thinks he sees Cas smile as well, and a smirk grows on his face.

"Dibs."

*

Unsurprisingly, nobody counters his dibs, and Dean ends up taking the guitar to his room.

It's after a few days of insecurity, leading right into embarrassment, leading further to ignoring its existence, and further still to a mostly depressive array of memories — before it circles back to insecurity, and is about to repeat all over again, when he stops himself in his proverbial spiral, and decides to just friggin' do it.

That night, he picks up the pick.

Fiddles with it in his hands for a minute, and proceeds to abandon the idea again, because it does not feel right. Different shape, different weight.

And Dean Winchester's already enough of a misfit for this project, for his guitar pick to be a poor goddamn fit in his hand too.

But there's something about being so close that stirs up motivation in his heart, similar to the first day they found the damn thing, and next morning, he's out looking for a music shop in town.

That night, he finally plays.

It's uncertain — experimental — and he soon realizes why nobody ever says a damn thing about guitars when they say you never forget how to ride a bike.

But then, slowly, and really slowly at that, music seems to return to his fingers.

It isn't smooth by any chance, or even really accurate, but there's a faint tug in his brain that leads him to the next chord, and a twitch in his wrist that tells him when to strum, and he's awful, he's really friggin' awful, but even repeatedly saying so in his head refuses to dampen the overwhelming feeling that lights him up from the inside to start to feel like maybe he can play again. There's hope, and there's terrible, off-timed, broken music, and there's Dean in the middle of it, and maybe he can actually do this.

Recollection of how to play had come to his hands as they trembled, and tried, but the exhilaration of it, and the joy, only come back to his heart once he'd stopped, heart racing, adrenaline high, and unexplainable tears pricking his eyes.

Dean Winchester goes to bed that night, giddy in a way he hasn't been in years.

And outside his bedroom, his family of three exchange confused glances when the playing stopped abruptly, and then smiles when a sound that can only be said to bear semblance to a squeal, follows the silence.

(The first song Dean had played in over twenty five years had been Joy to the World.

It had also been the first song he'd ever learned — Cassie's choice, not his. Sam, Cas and Jack didn't know any of that. To them, it had just been a christmas carol. But there was also something so moving about that, soft in a way each of them knew Dean would fight against being, that they didn't realize they hadn't budged from Dean's door, long until faint snores replaced the quiet, and they left for their own beds, wordlessly already having decided on a plan for the next day.)

*

Cas knocks first on Dean's bedroom door, and all music immediately ceases. There's a yell from inside after ten seconds of a shuffling kind of silence.

"Yeah?"

"May I come in?" Cas asks.

Another pause.

Cas wonders worriedly if Sam and Jack were mistaken when they said that Cas had to be first, that he was their best shot at getting Dean to open up — the easiest past Dean's line of defense.

Then Dean says, a little quieter. "Yeah, sure."

Cas enters, gently closing the door behind himself before his eyes land on Dean — and he fights the urge to smile, because Dean hasn't kept away the guitar or anything. It's still on his lap, not in playing stance, with his arms folded over it — but he's not trying to hide it from Cas.

"Is everything okay?" Dean interrupts his reverie. Cas nods.

Neither of them say anything for a minute.

"Can I listen?"

Cas surprises himself with his own courage to ask — no twisted words or excuses to stay, just a simple question. Things were so rarely simple for them, but this wasn't a common occurrence either so it evened out.

"Y-yeah." Dean mutters.

Cas lights up.

"I suck, by the way." Dean adds, almost immediately. "But I'll suck less with time, I'm hoping. I mean, I'm supposed to, you know, but I — uh, I mean — maybe I —"

Cas realizes that he hadn't stopped smiling at Dean and that's what had made Dean falter, and he looks away, embarrassed.

"I'll just play, I guess." Dean manages smally, sounding as embarrassed as him.

"Please."

Dean clears his throat instead of playing.

"Yeah."

Cas can tell he's nervous. Even if he weren't good at, and very used to reading Dean, he could've gauged as much. And he wishes he had the right words, he really does, but he's aware a sincere speech of how much it means that Dean let him stay, and listen, would have the opposite effect of calming.

Then there's another knock on the door, and Cas relaxes.

"Dean?"

Sure enough, it's Jack.

Sam had explained how Dean was most likely, unfortunately, to deflect if he was there — "his denial fires up, Cas. I associate it with a parenting complex of some kind, and he just won't let go of it." — so the order had been decided as Cas, Jack and Sam. No overwhelming by arriving all three at once, or one after the other as if it were planned. No, they'd enter after some time, giving the previous person time to make Dean comfortable to them before the next enters.

Cas thinks it's a rather brilliant plan, and wonders if he should ask Sam to formulate a similar one to get Dean to open up about other things too. He doesn't, ultimately.

"Yeah?" Dean yells back.

"Have you seen Cas?"

That had been the plan.

"Yeah," Dean raises his voice to answer. "He, uh. He's right here. Come on in."

And Jack does, and eyes Cas with probably too much meaning (he means triumph) for Dean to not have noticed, before turning to the latter. "Oh. Were you about to play for Cas?"

Dean colors at that, his ears reddening almost instantly, and Cas files it away for pondering later.

"Can I be here too?"

And Dean's eyes widen a little — sign of anxiety, maybe understanding — and he licks his lips and then he nods. "I guess. I mean, okay, fine. But didn't you need Cas for something?" He adds, confused.

"I," Jack hesitates. Oh no, Cas thinks. Sam's prepared him for this, but Jack looks like he's about to, as Dean would say, wing it. And all-powerful or not, he knows his son is a terrible liar. "No, I just wanted to know if you'd seen him."

Dean narrows his eyes.

"Now I do know. That, uh, you've seen him." Jack braves on, determined to reach the bottom of the proverbial hole he'd dug for himself apparently. "So now, I don't need to know anything. Now I can stay."

Dean sighs.

"I can, right?"

There's a lightness in Dean's voice instead of tension when he says, "Yeah."

"Thank you." Jack says brightly, and all Cas can do is shake his head when Jack turns to him for feedback, and the both of them proceed to wear (nearly matching, but not on purpose) excited stares as they focus on Dean.

*

The final straw is when there's a third knock on the door, and Sam pokes his head in. One unconvincing "Where's everyone at?" later, he's joined Cas and Jack in staring with a unnecessary (and hopefully unintended) comfort-the-vic's-family smile at Dean.

God, he loves these dumbasses and would give his life for everyone present in the room, but none of them can act for shit.

It's glaringly obvious they've all respectively shown up to listen to him play.

Which is bullshit in itself, because Dean wasn't being modest when he told Cas he sucks — he does suck. But then, he doesn't think any of them would mind. Sam would probably unlock new levels of the puppy eyes if he knew how happy even playing awfully, made Dean. Jack would be blunt, of course, but undeterringly sweet. And Cas? He'd probably smile at him all the way through, just — that smile of his, that always seems to make time freeze and Dean's heart stutter.

So Dean decides magnanimously to not call them out.

Right away, anyway.

Instead, he turns to them with a question. "Any requests?"

(He can't play one of the only songs he remembers having learned without errors yet, so obviously asking for requests is the right way to go. But you see, once you've given up on impressing, it's only fair to see yourself to the end of the chaos.)

"Christmas carols." Jack answers before anyone else.

"It's May."

"Sam's," Jack swallows. Dean should really get on teaching the kid how to lie. "Sam's making me listen to carols."

"In May?" He asks his brother this time.

Sam shrugs, struggling to keep a diplomatic face.

"You're going to grow up to be the young adult who doesn't take off the Christmas lights in January." Dean informs Jack, who absorbs his words with all the seriousness Dean should have expected. "And, fine. We can do carols."

Cas speaks up. "Any carol you'd like, Dean."

"Nah," Dean shakes his head. "Jack requested it. We'll do what he says." And he insists to his conscience that he said so because he wants to make Jack happy, and not because he's well aware the kid isn't being subjected to carols by Sam in friggin' May, and probably doesn't know any.

"Oh." Jack's face falls. He looks at Sam in the most conspicuous way anyone's ever looked at anyone. "I —"

"Uhhuh?"

"Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer!" Cas blurts, on behalf of Jack, and there's a two second gap where Sam facepalms and Jack exchanges a conspirational glance with Cas, and then Dean's throwing his head back and laughing.

And soon, Sam's joining in with an exasperated kind of chuckling as if he's gotten stuck in the wrong team but he doesn't regret a thing, and then Cas starts too, mostly from looking at Dean losing his shit (Dean strictly ignores thinking about that part and focuses on imprinting Cas's laugh to memory) and probably also because the ridiculosity of the entire situation probably struck him, and of course Jack's smiling at all of them, and it's, altogether, everything Dean could ever have wished for.

The evening ends with Dean playing Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer (of course) for at least an hour while consistently getting better at the repeating music, and although it's him humming under his breath (like he always has while playing) that starts it off, soon all of them are offering their own awful renditions to the chaos. Cas is off-key, Sam somehow manages to screw up the lyrics, and Jack is as flat as a friggin' plateau.

And it all comes together in a wholly unmelodious kind of awesome — to Dean the same way they say a mother's love comes through for an ugly child.

After Rudolph, it's Silent Night (another song Dean's learned, it hits him, once he's trying to find the right chord) and even Cas manages to look disappointed at the lyrics Sam and he come up with to make up for not knowing the real ones, and since Jack's never heard this one, he simply listens in rapt attention leaving Dean wondering if he probably ended up learning the wrong version on account of all his concentration.

And last of all, it's We Wish You A Merry Christmas, and Dean plays the chorus enough times that he's perfect at it, because for once, no one messes up the beat or the lyrics, and everyone has the most fun.

All in all, it's an evening to remember.

What Dean learns through it all is primarily the lesson that letting your family think they tricked you into having an audience is sometimes an excellent choice to make, and that things can be crap, but still be enjoyed. That doesn't mean he's not going to practice his ass off learning to play at least the choruses of the Led Zepp tracks he gifted Cas (the idea came to him in bed last night, and Cas has always sounded like he enjoyed them, okay?) so he can play them 'for Cas' as the kid so casually put — but then, some things are different from other things, just the way some love's different too.

And while some things are about efforts, and saying the words that scare you, others are about letting go, and singing carols in bright and sunny May.

The only thing Dean's sure about is that just about all of it comes down to being free.

[amyisherenowitsokay]

Zagr for the ship ask 😤😤😤 every single one bitch

I cannot believe you have bombarded me like this. Appalled. Insulted. Astounded.

Please enjoy my entire analysis of my fictional totally canonical ship.

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

1. How did they first meet?

Dib, but also school.

2. What was their first impression of each other?

I think they're both initially incredibly dismissive of one another. Zim thinks the entire fate of the Armada's reputation lying on his shoulders, and Gaz really has too many personal problems even as a kid to deal with; neglectful Dad, overprotective, stupid brother, etc.

3. Did any of their friends or family want them to get together?

Okay so hear me out; I think Skoodge and Professor Membrane would be so obnoxious in the best way. And Gir, whenever his attention span lets him remember long enough to scream about it. But I think Membrane would be chipper about Gaz finding someone, even long before she admits she's even interested, and Skoodge would want Zim to be happy and is unconditionally supportive, especially when Zim is mopey whenever his advances are rebuffed.

4. Who felt romantic feelings first?

Honestly, I love a Zim simp, but I genuinely think it'd be Gaz. Zim is obviously a Defect capable of feeling a larger range of emotions than other Irkens, but he still didn't receive socialization that makes 'romantic rituals' in any way natural to him. So I think Gaz and him would buddy up platonically and casually, initially, until she realizes she likes his company a little too much and freaks out about it.

5. Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

Gaz does, 100%, and she's way more stubborn about it then Zim. I think Zim's denial is just that he doesn't "get" romance (see above) and what's going on with him, but once he understands he's fully down to bombard Gaz with affection, flirtations, and other over-the-top simp behavior until she stops pretending she's not gritting her teeth while fighting a blush.

6. If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

Zim doesn't know what a soul is, but he does begin to understand the concept that they can be taken from human's in bargains. He becomes distracted by the topic. Bringing it up again later would have him largely dismissive.

Gaz would roll her eyes, and be extremely bitter about the idea that there is anyone 'made' for her. She's very independent, and I think someone with the sort of familial issues she does with no role model for a 'happy' family would be really resistant to being bound to someone in a way that would entitle them to her vulnerabilities. She'd be extremely resentful, dismissive, and irritable.

7. What would their lives be like if they had never met?

Really unfulfilled, listless. Without that companionship, they would never develop into people capable of meaningful relationships. I think both of them are very independent. Zim may claim he likes an audience, but there's an undeniable anxiety that he gets when faced with judgement. If it's anything but unwaveringly positive, he becomes delusional and creates a fantasy world in which everyone loves him, and the situation was just an initial misinterpretation. Gaz would have good friends, I think, but accepting Zim and his oddities and realizing she genuinely relates to someone who knows everything about her (via her brother + proximity + time) and is still here would mean a lot to her development.

GENERAL

1. Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

Zim, without a doubt. Gaz may like Zim first, but she's completely in denial about it and completely stubborn. Zim is oblivious, and also a big ass simp, so his persistence and patience eventually gets Gaz to let her guard down and accept that she has hormones, she has romantic inclinations, and apparently they've both decided Zim is it. Time to be a big girl and accept it.

2. Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

Honestly, I don't think they're the 'date' type of couple. I am probably 100% projecting since my boyfriend and I did not have an official 'date' until like 6 months into our first relationship, where we paused, turned to each other and were like 'wait is this our first date?' because we're homebodies whose idea of fun is projects. I think Zim and Gaz would hang out regularly, but it wouldn't ever be like a formal 'we are going to Bloaty's/the movies/etc as a date,' but rather 'I am going here and you are coming with me so I guess we are going together' thing. Zim doesn't get the point of a date, because if a date is by definition doing an activity together, then aren't they perpetually on a date? And Gaz isn't really a 'let's go to dinner formally' kind of person. They hang out, they go places, but it's never really a 'thing.'

3. What was their first kiss like?

I firmly believes Gaz would have to walk Zim through every aspect of physical affectionate. Zim is really wary about it, but I do think there's an instinct towards good ol' copulation, as well as a longing for positive touch after so long getting his ass whooped in the Academy, that would make him frustrated trying to figure out what this desire is. I think their first kiss is Gaz explaining to Zim, after he asks her outright what else there is after tame stuff like cuddling and hand holding, and Gaz walks him through the concept, implications, and so on until he feels ready to bravely and firmly try it.

While that does sound pretty clinical, I think actually it'd be really emotional for both of them. Zim would be really overwhelmed by how much passion is in a kiss, and Gaz would be similarly overwhelmed since, going into the relationship, she probably never anticipated Zim being interested in anything sexual, so any physical affection he expresses interest in is a surprise to her.

4. Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

I think Gaz probably would try out a few brief relationships, but never anything substantial or dramatic. Zim's never been in a relationship, so Gaz is his first everything. I do think they'd be each other's first sexual relationship, but I think Gaz would have most of her more minimal firsts with other people prior to Zim.

5. What’s their height difference? Age difference?

Zim older. I normally write Zim as the same height as Gaz, or only a little taller. Neither of them are tall. I do respect you 'short king' stans though.

6. What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

Dib hates Zim, firmly and completely, at the beginning of their relationship. It takes a lot of self-reflection, meaningful sibling discussions, and probably a few screaming matches that eventually get to the real root of the issue (Dib's ingrained fear that something would happen to Gaz, and that it'd his fault) before he came around. Zim is a big petty bitch and would gleefully antagonize him. They would never stop sniping at each other, but they'd begrudgingly (sort of) behave for Gaz. They would eventually become frenemies and bros, but they'd die and also kill each other before admitting any sort of cordiality.

Professor Membrane adores Zim, and treats him like the son he never had/always wanted, the one who wants to have long discussions about science and can keep up with the theoreticals. Gaz hates it.

The Base and Gaz are cool. They have an understanding borne from two sentient creatures who have found themselves in the position of trying to keep Zim from killing himself, killing other people, or from coming to (too much) harm. Gaz initially hates Gir, but eventually she figures out how to get him to chill out when it's important. Minimoose and her are also cool, but he creeps Gaz out a little.

7. Who takes the lead in social situations?

Zim thinks he does, but it's really just Gaz slapping her hand over his mouth before he can say something stupid, or translating whatever nonsense just came out of his mouth when he's done talking.

8. Who gets jealous easier?

Zim. Not even a question.

9. Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear?

Zim. Also not even a question.

LOVE

1. Who said “I love you” first?

Gaz. Zim doesn't know what it means until she explains it. It takes him awhile to internalize it and reciprocate verbally, but Gaz is okay with that. He shows her how much he cares in other ways.

2. What are their primary love languages?

Without a doubt, Zim's is touch. Once he gets used to it, he's really greedy and possessive about proximity. Just having Gaz bump his arm is sometimes enough to set the worst of his nerves at ease.

Gaz's is acts of service. She's fine with Zim being physically clingy, but it means a lot to her how unflinching he is about protecting her, anticipating her needs, and remembering things.

3. Who uses cheesy pick-up lines?

Zim. Gaz hates them, but she tolerates it. Sometimes.

4. How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

Cuddling is very frequent. Zim will just sort of shift in behind Gaz if she's playing a game and cling, and she'll just keep doing what she's doing until she's eventually done and reciprocates. Explicit PDA never happens, but Zim is very clingy and physically will plant himself between Gaz and people who he's distrustful towards.

5. Who initiates kisses?

Gaz. I think Zim would cling to her like a barnacle at every opportunity, but Zim would likely usually defer to Gaz for escalating intimacy.

6. Who’s the big and little spoon?

Zim big spoon. PAK too uncomfortable to let him be the little spoon.

7. What are their favorite things to do together?

I think just being around each other while they do projects, game, etc. would be their favorite thing to do. Sharing in hobbies without feeling pressured to be entertaining, but still feeling like their presence is valued and wanted by the other.

8. Who’s better at comforting the other?

Being a people, and having more emotional competency, Gaz is better. Zim does his best though.

9. Who’s more protective?

Zim, if we're talking about quantity. Gaz, however, if we're talking about quality. Zim screams at chihuahuas for looking at Gaz, and also does protect her from genuine threats, but he overreacts frequently. Gaz, however, would know when Zim's out of his depth and would break the spine of anything that's a threat to him.

10. Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

Physical, for both. Neither of them is really used to verbal affection, whether it be giving or receiving. It's a lot more natural to be demonstrative.

11. What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

Me, cackling as I copy and paste this link that I imagine is from their mutual perspectives:

https://open.spotify.com/track/4nlT0Ch4qpqoS8O1RsdzjH?si=d6d8e1e19a7d4dc7

12. What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

There's lots, and I'm sure most of them are inside jokes, but the tops are Zimmothy + Little Gaz.

13. Who remembers the little things?

It's hard to say. Zim would retain an encyclopedic knowledge of all things Gaz, and tries to spoil her and accommodate her at every opportunity, but Gaz never forgets to pack an extra umbrella and a raincoat.

DOMESTIC LIFE

1. If they get married, who proposes?

Zim.

2. What’s the wedding like? Who attends?

No one but their mutual 'families.' A very small, intimate ceremony. The reception though is massive, courtesy of Professor Membrane who has no idea how to separate his personal life with his public one.

3. How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like?

0 kiddos. Cannot product viable, compatible DNA to produce a spawn.

4. Do they have any pets?

Does Gir count?

5. Who’s the stricter parent?

If Gir is the child, Zim. Gaz will let him get away with murder, both because she can't be bothered to control him, and also because she thinks it's funny how mad Zim gets when she lets him go wild.

6. Who worries the most?

Between Gaz "apathetic is my middle name" Membrane and Invader "I have perpetual anxiety" Zim? No idea.

7. Who kills the bugs in the house?

Gir. He eats them long before anyone can find them. But both Gaz and Zim will point out any he misses.

8. How do they celebrate holidays?

Zim fucking hates Christmas, so him and Membrane get down in a bunker for it while Dib and Gaz spend some sibling time somewhere, drinking cocoa and video chatting with the respective morons. Other holidays, they basically go wherever Professor Membrane is in the world with Dib to have a 'family' holiday.

9. Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

Zim doesn't sleep, but he likes the resting and the peacefulness of getting to curl around Gaz in her sleep without her leaving. So him by default.

10. Who’s the better cook?

Zim has a 'kiss the chef' apron and everything.

11. Who likes to dance?

Neither of them, but Zim does 'victory dances' compulsively.

[exquisitley-obsessed]

Fiancés, Firebirds, Foxes and Fawns: 10

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: A few weeks after Briallyn’s attempt at uniting with Koschei, Lucien opens the door of Lockhart Manor to find Elain, cold from the rain and holding a note from the High Lady of the Night Court demanding her to assist Lucien in building alliances with the human councils. Forced to work together by their exhausted High Lord and Lady, Elain is able to convince anyone to do anything, while Lucien has the acquaintances to go anywhere he likes. Together, they attempt to unite the fae and mortal lands and unravel the deal made between Koschei and Vassa, while Lucien remains haunted by his own promise to Elain’s father. ELUCIEN, POST-ACOSF

Pairings: Elain x Lucien, Elucien

Warnings: Nine

A/N: I’ve added a tag list for those who wish to stay updated with this story! Just message me if you wish to be added <3

MY MASTERLIST

THIS FIC’S MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter Ten: Human not Humane

Huckleberry Hall was thriving with life. Lucien had apparated at the bottom of the pathway leading up to the external arches and courtyard placed before the hall – and there were people everywhere.

Elain saw all walks of life, from noblemen to peasants crowded on the lawns and paths. It was like looking directly into a memory. In another life, Elain would walk among these people with her sisters and parents. Nesta would trot directly behind their mother as she sneered down her nose at the farmers and tanners, Feyre would drift a little further behind, looking up at the clouds in the sky. Their father would walk at the back holding little Elain’s hand, pointing out the flowers and the trees and showing her how to make a trumpet from a leaf.

That was another life and what Elain had always assumed was a happier one.

Mother knows what she thought now.

Lucien and Elain were hidden from sight down the pathway, and it looked as though they were the last to arrive. Looking around, Elain saw stableboys managing a small army of horses, farmers sitting next to wagons full of seeds, grain and fruit, there were even Lords and Ladies, perched under umbrellas in fine chairs, tutting to themselves at the display.

It was so…human.

The rowdy chatter, the children playing hopscotch, the delicacy of these little lives and how they were interwoven with one another. Another way in it being so human was that Elain knew she didn’t fit.

Years ago the sight of all these people would have simply washed over Elain, now it threatened to drown her. Looking around all she could see were people, people and more people. People she didn’t know in a situation she couldn’t control. How long had it been since Elain had spoken to anyone outside the Inner Circle or the Band of Exiles? She hadn’t been taken to any of the meetings with other Courts or any trips abroad – her family hadn’t even told her. They’d just left her alone and hoped she’d be fine.

Breathing started to become a little difficult.

“Are you okay?” Lucien’s voice husked in her ear.

Elain just stared blankly up at him; she wasn’t sure. His own eyes were assessing her carefully.

“If you don’t want to do this just say the word and I’ll take us home.”

Home…

“I’m fine,” Elain said, though a little breathily, “It’s just…I haven’t been around a crowd in a long time.”

She flinched then as a carriage thundered through the woods on a path far to their left, the noise scaring the birds who began a loud chorus of squawking. All of the uproar felt as though it were washing over Elain, dragging her down, suffocating her.

“Hey, Elain, breathe,” Lucien’s hands came up to rest on her shoulders as he pulled himself in front of her, blocking her view of the Hall and all the people surrounding it. Now, her attention was on him.

“Breathe,” he commanded once more before he joined her in taking deep, long breaths. In, out. In, out.

Slowly, the roaring noise and itching anxiety began to fade away as she became encased in the sensation of Lucien. The smell of him surrounding her, his hands on her shoulders, his eyes concerned as they roved over her face.

She wondered if this is how he often felt – like his entire universe sometimes shifted so that she was at the centre.

Once Elain’s breathing had returned to a steady pace for several moments, she felt something tugging from within. Without thinking, Elain brushed up against the bond and was surprised to feel a wave of emotions – Lucien’s emotions – washing over her. She was even more surprised at what those emotions were.

“You’re angry,” Elain whispered after a moment. Lucien shook his head but, he was. His eyes were burning, his jaw set, his brows furrowed – he looked as though he were furiously trying to stop himself from talking. “You are,” Elain prodded because, well, it was a good distraction.

Lucien sighed before looking warily down at her, almost as though he were contemplating telling her whatever it was that had set him off.

“I told Feyre a long time ago that she should’ve been taking you out to see the ocean or sunlight. Instead she…” Lucien trailed off. Elain wished he didn’t, she wished he just said what he so clearly itched to get off his chest.

“I like the indoors,” Elain shrugged.

“Do you?” Lucien cocked his head, “I thought you used to spend all your time in gardens and your greatest wish was to see the continent.”

Elain paused. How did he know about the continent…

Her father. When Lucien had come for Vassa he’d met Elain’s father and he must’ve tried to inconspicuously pick up as much information about her as he could. Maybe once Elain would’ve thought the notion strange but, she couldn’t stop herself from smiling shyly.

“Okay…” Elain tilted her head, “But I needed the indoors.”

“You needed both,” Lucien said as his eyes softened, “Fresh air, new places, new people – they remind us that the world is bigger than the rooms we lock ourselves in.”

The hands on her shoulders began to rub soothingly along her upper arms, and once more Elain’s entire focus zoned in on that point of contact.

“Did you used to lock yourself away?” Lucien grinned.

“Elain, I’m a 400-year-old fae, I’ve spent my fair share moping indoors. Tamlin was the one who eventually had enough, he threw me out into the woods of Spring one day and said if I couldn’t catch anything, I wasn’t eating dinner.”

“That sounds mean,” Elain half-laughed.

“Maybe,” Lucien shrugged, “But it got me out. He was a bastard though, I spent all day in a river collecting enough bass to feed a small army only to come back to the Manor and find an entire spread waiting for me: potatoes, honeyed-ham, even Tipiati – it’s a delicacy from Dawn. It’s this little bird and you cut it open and eat the heart raw-”

“Oh, ugh!” Elain giggled as she scrunched her nose.

“What’s wrong petal? Raw bird heart not sounding good? Wait until I tell you what they do with the eyes-”

“Okay, okay! Feeling better! Ready to seize the day just please, stop talking about those poor birds!” Elain laughed, feeling for the first time in forever the weight on her shoulders disappear.

“I’m going to get you to try it one day,” Lucien grinned, looking rather smug with himself at having made her laugh.

“Oh, in your dreams,” Elain looped her arm through his as they made their way up the path and into the view of the humans.

“Just you wait, if we’re ever in Summer I’m making you try Calamari.”

“I don’t even want to know,” Elain smiled, and for a moment, she forgot where she was.

Because her arm was in Lucien’s and he was smiling down at her as though she were a forest nymph bedecked in moon-flowers and in this moment, everything felt alright.

It was only when they were halfway down the path to the Hall, that Elain began to remember where she was, and she felt the eyes of the humans – humans she once knew – boring into her. She simply kept her own stare ahead at the open doors of the Hall in which she could see the fiery glint of Vassa’s hair and golden dress.

But her fae hearing picked up on everything. She heard the whisperings of the peasants, both enchanted and disgusted by her beauty, she heard the Ladies muttering to one another about her dress and how disgustingly uncivilised it was.

She heard the Lords grinning to one another about how they knew Elain when she was a little girl. About how they had first dibs…

If she wasn’t mistaken Lucien had gone somewhat rigid next to her and he was once more pulling himself to his full height, looming over everyone in the courtyard. One glance up at him told her that he was wearing his fiercest scowl, his entire being practically thrumming with magic that she knew was hot under the surface of his skin.

Then, Lucien was leaning low, his lips coming close to her ear as he whispered three little words. And then, his voice was the only one that mattered.

“I’ve got you.”

***

Time started to move quickly after their laboured walk into the Hall. Once they were in and grouped with Vassa and Jurian, Elain found herself being introduced to a plethora of Noblemen and Ladies. They shook her hand with introductions and light discussions of who they were and the role they played in the rebuilding of the mortal world. Elain was glad she had spent so much time looking over the documents and contracts as she found herself maintaining elaborate, detailed questions with everyone she came into contact with – and as each successful conversation passed, so did her anxiety, and she truly began to believe she could do this.

She often found herself using the same techniques her mother had taught her when attending balls. Except now, instead of conversations about dowries and marital prospects, she was speaking of trade routes and contractual obligations.

On more than one occasion she came into contact with someone whom she once knew. Some people, such as older, less wealthy men were kind and joyful, telling Elain how they were glad to see she was at least healthy and alive following the Battle against Hybern. With others, Elain could read the quite plain apprehension and slight disgust in the eyes of those she’d once known – particularly of father’s whose sons she’d once been a contender for marrying.

The Hall was busy with chatter as this was also the first meeting in which Queen Vassa was in attendance, and with the two new, unusual arrivals, there were many mortal civilities that needed to pass before everyone was to take their seats in the main hall at the southern end of the building.

Lucien never left her side, but not in a way that felt claustrophobic or hovering, but merely in a way that told her that he had her back. Whenever she tuned into his conversations she found that most mortals responded somewhat well to Lucien. At least, as well as they could given the circumstances. Many mortal Lords were interested in Lucien’s weaponry and experience in battle, there appeared to be an endless amount of questions regarding his sword of choice.

There was only one time in which Elain overheard her name in his discussions.

“Are you and the Lady Elain married then?” Lord McAdams, an old man who owned the human libraries inquired over a glass of port.

“We’re acquaintances, and while she is here she is under my protection,” Lucien replied smoothly. He was the image of relaxation, an easy smile that lit up the room playing on his features.

“Ah, I see,” McAdams winked at Lucien, who merely tilted his head in response.

“Pardon?”

“I won’t tell anyone, of course, you see, it is highly unusual for an unmarried woman to…well to…though it does happen.” McAdams was old enough that he wheezed as he talked.

“I’m quite lost Lord McAdams, though I’m sure you mean well.”

“Of course, of course, my boy. Of course, I mean well,” McAdams chortled, “Besides, I can’t blame you can I? You know I knew Elain when she was a little girl, her father used to take all three of them round to my house so they could have their pick from my libraries. She was the prettiest of them all, even then, and it’s always interesting to see how they…turn out.”

Elain was nodding along as a young Lord who owned the rice fields out West continued to chat extensively about himself. Though at that moment, she felt a pair of eyes searing into her back, particularly her behind. At that moment she didn’t need to reach for the bond to feel the protective fury that was radiating from her mate.

It was strange, but for some reason, she liked it. Some guilty, deep down part of her shuddered in agreement at the idea of Lucien being protective over her in the face of these men. It was almost a nice idea, belonging to him…

“Elain!” A saccharine voice pulled Elain from her internal tribulations and Lucien and McAdams faded away as a silver blur appeared in front of her. “Oh Elain it’s so good to see you again, you look…well!”

Delilah Darlington exploded into the conversation, nudging into the side of the young Lord who grumbled in response. She was bundled in a rather ridiculous silver gown which was bedecked in frills of lace that hung off the fabric like cobwebs. Delilah was beautiful, though, and a sweet kind girl.

She did not deserve the cruelty of someone such as Graysen.

“Delilah, I’m so glad you’re well! Congratulations on your engagement,” Elain said with as much earnest kindness she could muster as she pulled Delilah into a brief embrace.

They’d been friends, once, along with a small gaggle of girls. Nesta couldn’t stand any of them, she saw them as competition at balls and discouraged Elain from forming any kind of relationship with them. Elain had anyways, of course. It was something to look forward to at those balls, something to distract her from the wandering hands and unwanted touches.

“Oh, well, yes I-I uh, I didn’t know you were coming back.” Delilah looked strangely guilty for a moment, and Elain felt something in her chest squeeze. Graysen wasn’t deserving of this girl, and he wasn’t worth coming between them.

“Well I’m only here until some political goals are accomplished, then I’ll probably be heading back over the border.”

“How exciting, you always wanted to travel.”

“Yes,” Elain grinned shyly, touched that Delilah remembered such a trivial detail. Looking around Elain realised that the young Lord had disappeared, and she felt herself relaxing from the forced courtly act she’d been playing.

“It’s wonderful Delilah it really is. Being turned fae has been difficult, more than difficult it’s been…well, it���s been hard, but it’s almost worth it for the beauty of Prythian.”

Delilah, unlike the other mortals who changed the conversation once anything beyond the wall was mentioned, grinned widely and rubbed her hands together.

“I read a book after you were taken over the wall, it was a forbidden scripture from McAdams library that I managed to steal when I was over there. It detailed all things about Prythian, is it true there are Seasonal Courts?”

“Oh yes,” Elain grinned, allowing her courtier’s exterior to crumble, “Lucien hails from the Autumn Court.”

Elain shifted so that she was now standing next to Delilah against the wall and pointed out to Lucien, though there was no need, he stood head and shoulders above everyone, currently nodding along to something a small gaggle of women were chatting about.

“Oh of course, I can see it now,” Delilah muttered with a smile, but Elain was fixated and the now growing group of women that were trying to gain her mate’s attention. Delilah, seeing Elain’s line of sight, smiled wider. “They do that every week. They’re all eligible brides, see there’s Isobel and Lottie…not that they would ever admit it, but I think some of them want him to propose.”

“Propose?” Elain couldn’t stop herself from spluttering, feeling a protective fiery anger move through her at the thought. The idea that these women had gathered week after week trying to sway Lucien into offering them his hand in marriage for two years, it made her feel feral.

Lucien was hers.

The thought was like a stone to the head and suddenly the protective rage was cleared, leaving behind her internal shock and confusion had having had such an audacious thought. But by the way Lucien was now grinning slyly at the women before him, his confidence having tripled within the minute, Elain was pretty certain she’d accidentally sent that thought down the bond.

“Is he really your mate?” Delilah asked, her eyes twinkling slightly. Elain stayed quiet for a moment, and then.

“Yes. He is. We’re bound together by fate and the Mother herself.”

“That sounds very beautiful,” Delilah said softly, but Elain could not take her eyes away from her Autumn Male. It was like the thought had just truly dawned on Elain, the reality of their situation.

Lucien was her mate. In that way, he was hers.

And she was his.

“It is…”

“The meeting shall begin in ten minutes, please, may you all take your seats!” A loud, brash voice called from the looming doors of the main hall and the crowd began to move in the direction, the babbling only increasing as wives got left behind and Lords could engage in the locker room talk before the politics – Elain didn’t miss the several glances thrown her way as the men’s rowdy chatty began to fill the building.

“I must go but, I’ll see you soon,” Delilah hopped out away from her, giving Elain a quick embrace and a kiss on the cheek before she was waving and disappearing into the crowd. The crowd where her fiancé no doubt was hidden.

She had not yet seen him.

Just as she was about to lose herself in the throng, Lucien was in front of her, pushing through the men as though they were no more than butterflies to swat at. Before she could say anything, he was holding out his arm with a slight bow.

“Lady.”

Unable to help herself, Elain grinned at her mate as she looped her arm through his and was rewarded with an equally bright grin back. Lucien led them through the crowd into the hall, people parting for them as though they were a plague to be avoided. Elain didn’t mind, especially if it meant no one would stand on her train.  

“They can’t take their eyes off you.” Lucien didn’t move as he spoke, he merely muttered the words under his breath and had he been talking to any mortal, they would’ve been lost on the wind. But Elain’s fae-hearing picked them up, and she felt a shiver run the length of her spine at the secret conversation in plain sight.

“Feeling territorial?” Elain surprised herself by husking back.

“It would seem I’m not the only one.” She didn’t need to look at him to know he was smirking coyly.

“I don’t like the way they talk about me,” Elain moved on before her cheeks could start burning, “The men who watched me grow up.”

“It’s repulsive.” All humour left her mate’s tone. “If it soothes your mind know that I won’t let them lay a finger on you.”

“I don’t know if touching is the problem so much as the looking.”

“That dress isn’t doing us favours I’m afraid.”

“Oh, do you wish for me to get rid of -”

“Don’t,” Lucien said too quickly, his arm going rigid from where it was interlinked with hers. Elain smirked. “It’s…it’s a fine dress.” Lucien tried to concede.

“I think so.”

“It reminds me of home.” Elain stole a glance at him then.

“Because of the fabric?”

“Well yes,” Lucien’s brows furrowed as his eyes met hers, “But…that dress was my mothers.” Elain felt her shock roll through her. His mother’s? But this was a gift from Mor – right?

“You didn’t know,” Lucien mused, now seemingly unable to take his eyes off of her. Elain shook her head. “Ah, of course, I gave it to Nuala the other day, she wouldn’t take it until I said it was from Mor.”

“I’ll…have to ask her about it. Why do you have your mother’s dress?”

“Eris delivered it months ago, apparently she’d heard of our bond and wished to gift it to you as a mating present.”

“Oh-”

“I don’t intend to – I’m not giving it to you for that reason I just, I explained to Nuala my thinking about how the fabric and style is perfect for setting intention.” Elain just drifted next to him, turning his words over in her head.

“Is this why you are always dressed so finely, because it is a political motive?” Lucien, to her surprise, grinned wickedly.

“Nothing is coincidental, Elain, from the clothes we wear to the way we talk.”

“Whose we?” Lucien shrugged.

“I would’ve said Autumn Court Males but, I believe it is only Eris whom I share that trait with. Ah, here we are.”

The hall was set up like a Courtroom, with certain families, estates, and job sectors, sectioned off into small groups. Elain and Lucien, being the representatives for The Fae were somewhat isolated from everyone else. They were near enough to Vassa and Jurian who were bickering quietly from where they were seated to their right. The room was still squabbling and rowdy with chatter, and there were only men besides Elain and Vassa. The other mortal queens were not even present.

Elain’s eyes unwittingly began to search for Graysen. For some reason, not having seen him yet was making her nervous, it felt as though the longer she waited, the worse it was going to be. She just didn’t want to have anything sprung upon her.

Perhaps with the bond having been in more use the past few days, it seemed that Lucien was somehow easily able to gleam that Elain’s attention had returned to her ex-fiancé. Elain knew because he’d gone rigid next to her.

“What?” Elain prodded, turning to him. With the hall still full of chatter, she wasn’t worried about anyone overhearing their conversation. She’d thought she and Lucien had been good on the Graysen topic following their conversation in the kitchen doorway. Lucien didn’t look at her, instead, he appeared to be assessing the Darlington’s as they made themselves comfortable. “Lucien,” Elain stressed.

“I um, I felt you the other night, when you found out Graysen was engaged,” he began slowly, still not meeting her eye. Elain tugged on his sleeve forcing him to look down at her, she raised her brows questioningly to show she didn’t understand. Lucien breathed deeply, his eyes closing momentarily before he looked deep ahead, avoiding her pleading look. “I could feel what you were feeling.”

The way Lucien looked ahead, his jaw set and his eyes unfeeling, it was as though that little sentence had explained everything. But she was just more confused.

He’d felt her? Her emotions? What had she been feeling? She’d found out that Graysen was engaged, and she felt…She had felt tired, relieved, pitiful even. It was like some door had finally jammed shut after it had been fluttering between open and closed. It was a final sever in their bond and as she had fallen asleep that night, she’d welcomed the end of her time with Graysen. Her dream that night was a reminder that her relief was earned.

How could any of that upset Lucien?

Then Elain realised that Lucien had felt it. That longing, and by the way Lucien was now glaring at his hands, curled into fists in his lap, she’d realised that he may have misunderstood what, exactly, she was longing for.

She didn’t want Graysen. She wanted what he had. Not in terms of Delilah but, she wanted his ignorance, his ability to simply move on and find a new wife. She wanted his strength to not change, to still be who he was, to still have the world the way he wanted it with him at the centre.

She longed for the bliss Graysen had found, simply because that bliss made her agony so much more tender.

Lucien had misread her. She almost sighed with relief. She could fix this; she could simply explain to him why, and the small waves of hurt currently rocking through her would disappear.

Lucien wasn’t Graysen, he wasn’t going to leave her side in an instant just because of a misunderstanding. But even as Elain repeated this to herself as the room quietened and the meeting began, some part of her refused to believe it – some part of her refused to trust.

***

The meeting was rather boring. After all her research and all her note-taking, the first two hours involved discussions Elain had no interest in. It was about internal disputes, farmers angry with one another over borders, fisherman demanding wage rises, etcetera, etcetera. Elain was forced to watch as the Lords and Noblemen sneered down at the lower class, working men and had to bite her tongue the entire time.

It seemed that Lucien shared her disgust, as he regularly whispered quips in her ear about how mortal and fae weren’t so different after all. That the High Fae and these Noblemen had more terrible things in common, such as their treatment of working families and Lesser Fae.

Elain had tried to watch with an assessing eye, categorising the figures she needed to remember for later discussions. But by the time the lunchtime break came about, she was practically falling asleep on Lucien’s shoulder. It was after lunch that the room seemed to clear slightly, the farmers and peasants going home to their families as the topic of the Fae and Queen Vassa was brought up.

Queen Vassa made her introduction to the room, her voice full and powerful as she stood, Jurian watching with an all-knowing smile at her side. There were some small talks about property and Vassa was able to confirm her signature on several contracts.

Lucien got involved in discussions several times, and Elain was more than happy to sit quietly and watch as he worked the room. He was perfect. The way he eased into conversations, the easy-going smiles, the unconfrontational comments on trade routes and Fae resources.

Elain was surprised to notice that several Noblemen had taken a shining to Lucien and seemed to actively pursue his voice in discussions. She could tell a lot of it was fake, the way Lucien grinned at men whom he’d whispered insults about in Elain’s ear but, his courtier’s mask was perfect.

Elain was beginning to think that she might make it through the meeting without having to stand and utter a single word, until Lucien interjected a conversation about wrapping up for the week.

“We must speak of the matter that is Koschei.”

This seemed to be the first thing Lucien had said which the Noblemen did not instantly grin and nod along to. Instead, Elain saw heavy sighs and the rolling of eyes. It would seem that these Lords did not mind discussing with the Fae so long as it was about mortal matters. But talk of Death-Gods and magical firebirds, seemed to rather put them off.

“We have spoken of it. Weeks ago.” Elain heard Lord Nolan’s tired voice swim into the room. He appeared humoured by Lucien’s statement while Lucien simply remained passive. Stoic. They were sitting far to their left, and Elain had already glimpsed Graysen perched next to his father, leaning back in his chair. It was almost like he was trying, and failing, to impersonate Lucien’s image of confident boredom.

“May I remind you, Lord Nolan, that fae resources are only open to you so long as you stick to your word.”

“My word-”

“-yes,” a shimmer of anger was seen in Lucien’s eye, but beyond that his courtier's mask was flawless. “Your word that you would assist both Queen Vassa and her fae acquaintances in disposing of the Death-Lord, whose residence is not far from this very hall.”

“The agreement was to help you reverse the so-called curse placed on the Queen, and as we can all see, Queen Vassa has joined us today and therefore one might consider that vow fulfilled.”

“I am here on bought time,” Vassa now stood, her voice dripping in authority and power as she asserted herself amongst the men, “I shall not explain the means, as the explanation shall no doubt be lost on a room of mortals, but what you see before you is merely a temporary solution to the problem.”

“It would do you well, Queen Vassa, to remember that you too are mortal,” Lord Darlington now husked, his eyes predatory, “Or at least you were…once.”

“Oh don’t worry, Darlington, she’s just as mortal as I am,” Jurian grinned, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Darlington merely sneered in disgust.

“The point is Koschei is still at large-” Lucien tried again, the picture of relaxation from where he stood, looming over the room.

“And what do you expect us to do?” Elain felt her heart shudder as Graysen’s voice finally joined the others. It was only a matter of time.

Even though he was speaking to someone else - to Lucien - Elain felt her fight or flight instinct kick in. The last time she had heard that gravelly, low voice, had been when it had broken her heart.

“You fae clearly see us humans as inadequate, as proven by your Queen forgoing explaining her sudden appearance. No doubt caused by some dark magic, the same magic that threatens to infiltrate our lands and poison our people.” Graysen rose to his feet, his voice growing louder, and Elain noticed how much he had aged since she’d last seen him.

It had only been two years but the stress of rebuilding the mortal world without a wall had taken its toll: thinning hair, lines around his mouth, he’d also put on quite a bit of weight. He was no longer the young boy Elain had fallen in love with, a dreamer who wished to rid the world of evil beings. He was a man with a heart full of hate.

“Two things,” Lucien’s own voice didn’t waver as he turned to address Elain’s ex-fiancé, and she wondered how much they’d had to see of each other over the past two years. “One, Vassa is not my Queen. Two, it is somewhat hilarious to watch you whine like a pup over Queen Vassa not explaining to you her magic, when you are already so prejudiced to not comprehend the difference between the fae and Koschei. There is no magic seeking to infiltrate your lands apart from the work of the latter.”

“Koschei is fae-”

“-Koschei is a Death-God.” Lucien’s tone turned cold, and at that moment the sun dipped behind the clouds. “A survivor from the time of Old Gods. He is not fae, he is a threat to us as much as he is a threat to you.”

“The threat to humans are all fae and everything that comes with them.”

“The fae of Prythian have no interest in humans-”

“Oh please, one must only look to my ex-fiancé for proof of their machinations.”

The room went cold. The sun having now truly disappeared from sight, leaving behind a world of blue and grey shadows.

“Look at her, look at her unnatural beauty. Many of us knew Elain, the true Elain Archeron, the human one. She was beautiful but plain of the mind but set to live a normal, human life. Now look at her, she’s no better than a siren or a nymph, her beauty is of a freak nature and it’s only purpose is to lure you in, to cover the ugly truth underneath. Her and her two sisters were turned, stolen from their beds in the middle of the night and taken across the wall. I’m surprised to see you here Elain,” Graysen had been talking theatrically to the room, but that last sentence was personal, intimate. And when he caught Elain’s eye, she could only think one thing.

She hated him.

“Surprised but I suppose that’s my own fault, you always had a small fortune of ugly secrets you liked to keep hidden - and to think I almost fell into a marriage with you. You see, this is another reason the fae wish to infiltrate our lands, they wish to take our wives. Elain was stolen and turned only to be given to the male we see before us,” Graysen held his arm out to where Lucien was standing, still as stone at Elain’s side.

“This male was able to lay a claim on Elain the second she was turned. We’ve all heard of the mating bond.” A ripple of disgusted murmurs went around the room. “At that moment Elain, my soon to be wife, belonged to a fae male. Mother knows what atrocities occurred in the time between their mating and the moment Elain finally remembered her fiancé and came back home.”

Outrage and disgust were expressed around the room, and Graysen looked almost gleeful as he assessed the crowd.

“These two, this harlot and her owner-“

Elain shot out a hand and gripped the fabric of Lucien’s trousers if only to stop him from burning the boy to a crisp from where he stood.

“-have come here to mock us! They have come as a warning, to show us what will happen to our people - our women - if we allow this alliance with the fae to continue!” There were shouts of encouragement swelling from the crowd. “If we continue on this path then our women will look like her, horrid in their beauty. And worse, our women will belong to him as Elain belongs to him, as little more than a personal prostitute!”

There was something feral in Lucien’s eye as he glared at Graysen across the room. But while her mate was focused on her ex-fiancé, Elain was drowning in the leering coming from the crowd. People she had just introduced herself to a few hours earlier and had pleasant conversations were now staring at her with revulsion and disgust. She heard shouts of people calling her a ‘witch’, people telling her that she had no shame, that she was to burn in hell.

With her hand fisted in Lucien’s trouser leg, Elain drowned it out, she drowned it all out, and reached for the bond within.

Lucien was a tempest. Brushing up against the bond, Elain herself could feel the fire in his veins, could envision the rings of his powers, burning hotter and hotter all the way down to his golden core. The mating bond was taut in his skin, demanding him to defend Elain, to rip out the throat of anyone who would insult her. But there was another anger there too, a personal one. Lucien was furious on Elain’s behalf; she could read that now. He thought so highly of her and to hear lesser men insult her was turning him livid.

Sharply, Elain tugged on the bond and in an instant, his eyes snapped to hers.  

There was so much emotion in that one look. Concern, fury, bitterness, doubt. It was all there for her to see; he didn’t dilute anything. With as much delicacy and care as she could muster, she slipped her hand from his pant leg into the hand that was dangling by his side.

Slowly, she rose to her feet.

“It is true,” she began, and she felt Lucien’s hand squeeze her own. “I was stolen in the middle of the night by a group of fae. They stole me across land and ocean, all the way to Hybern. It is there where I was thrown into the Cauldron, the maker of all life, and transformed into a High Fae. This is all true.

“But my transformation was an irregularity, an unfortunate yet calculated political move whereby the King of Hybern attempted to get back at my sister for her killing of Aramantha. I expect you to all remember the King of Hybern, given that your own armies joined the fae in the Battle that catalysed these meetings two years ago.

“The King of Hybern was evil. Not the fae of Prythian. The King of Hybern was your enemy and the threat to human life. Not the fae of Prythian. Those such as Lucien here fought for your freedom. Fae died on that battlefield for you to stand here today, and you repay them by villainising them.

“There needs not be any animosity between these mortal lands and the fae realms of Prythian. I grew up like you, believing the fae were evil incarnations that existed to tempt human morality. But unlike you, I have travelled Prythian, I have seen fae from all walks of life, and the reality is the cautionary tales we all heard growing up were nothing more than fiction.

“The fae have homes, wives, children. They have towns and cities, farms, libraries and schools. They wake up each morning and go to work and each evening they have dinner with their families.

“This alliance is not about turning humans into fae, nor turning fae into humans. It’s about recognising life and seeking to protect it from those who might threaten it - and Koschei threatens all of us. We know he seeks to free himself from the confines of his lakeside Manor, we know he wishes to seek vengeance for his imprisonment. But there is much we do not know.

“We do not know how Koschei was bound to the lake, how he steals women of this land and turns them into swans, why he took Vassa, nor what it will take for him to be free. That is why this alliance is paramount.

“Koschei has a fascination with the mortals, he steals mortal women and mortal Queens. His residence is only a few miles south from here, deep in the forest. It is because of this we need mortal alliances.

“You do not need to believe the fae are good, nor must you trust us. But you must understand that all we wish to do is destroy a being who threatens everyone in this room. The alliance need not be a happy one, but it is needed.”

The room had quietened, the shouting had stopped. People were listening to her, and Elain had finally found her voice.

Lucien’s hand squeezed her own and she realised they were both standing before the room of mortals. She could only have an idea of what they must’ve looked like, side by side, glistening with the beauty of the Fae. They must’ve looked united and commanding.

They must’ve looked powerful.

Then, across the room, a man got to his feet. Looking at him for a moment, Elain realised it was the young Lord she had been speaking to with Delilah who owned the rice fields out West. He looked tentative and young as the spotlight fell on him, but when he met Elain’s eye, she saw a fierceness burning there.

“What do you need?”

***

Lucien wanted to get Elain home quickly after the meeting. Today had been unusually tiring, what with Elain’s debut in that dress this morning to the crowds turning on his mate halfway through the meeting. He just wanted to go home.

Correction, he needed to get Elain home and safe and away from these horrible men and their horrible thoughts.

A few noblemen came forth following the meeting expressing their devotion to helping Elain and Lucien in tackling the problem of Koschei. Most of them were young Lords who had come into their father’s wealth unexpectedly after the war, and their hearts had not yet had a chance to become polluted with years of hatred for the fae.

That was a success. No matter how often Lucien had tried to convince the noblemen to even speak of Koschei in the meetings, it seemed that the missing element was both Elain and Queen Vassa.

But before long Lucien had had enough. He wanted Elain home and safe now, and expressing a few half-hearted apologies he looped Elain’s arm through his and guided her out down the pathway before winnowing away without a second notice.

They made their way to the house with some small talk about how well the meeting had gone (Lucien tried his hardest not to spend all his time grovelling about how amazing she was and how fierce and strong she’d looked when addressing the crowds). The maids were there waiting for them with a pot of tea whilst they began on dinner.

It seemed that the meeting had gone on well into overtime and the sun was now distinctly plummeting towards the horizon. But when Vassa and Jurian finally made it back on horseback, there was only Jurian who entered the living room with a glass of whiskey.

“Where’s Vassa?”

“She decided to get her firebird overtime out the way,” Jurian sighed, something bitter in his eye as he flopped carelessly on the couch next to Lucien.

“Does that mean she won’t be turning back tonight?”

“We assume so, we’re not sure how the ring works but if Koschei’s little note is correct then I believe we won’t be seeing Vassa for a few days.”

Lucien cursed under his breath. Jurian just looked tired and…angry.

“There was a note?” Elain asked from where she was perched on her armchair, her legs tucked up underneath her, her dress outlining every curve of her body.

“Yes,” Jurian eyed her for a moment, “You did well out there princess, Lord Cao looked practically ready to sign you his battlements.” The Lord who had spoken at the end of the meeting.

“We talked after,” Elain mused, her finger running around the lip of her glass, “His residency is the closest to Koschei’s manor and he’s invited all of us to come visit, I think if we get close enough we may be able to get a read on the magic that’s bound to the manor.”

“Oh, fun, a day trip,” Jurian sighed bitterly, something clearly having aggravated his mood. He turned his scowl to Lucien. “Are you really going to let your mate within a mile of that place?”

Something dark flickered in Lucien’s eye.

“If Elain deems it a worthy trip then of course we must go. I thought you were interested in seeing Vassa free of the curse?”

“Of course I’m interested in seeing Vassa free, why do you think I’m here?” Jurian hissed.

“To generally give the manor a feeling of unease?”

“To make rude comments about people’s sisters in an attempt to start a fight?” Elain added.

“To make indecent comments about people’s mates in an attempt to-”

“Alright, alright. Mother, you two are no fun.” Jurian rolled his eyes, but some of the tension seemed to leave his body at the teasing. “Have you already eaten?”

Elain and Lucien nodded and Jurian got up with a stretch.

“Yum, leftovers for me then,” was all he said before he headed for the door.

“Jurian,” Elain called, “That note Koschei sent with the ring, could I see it?” Jurian glanced between her and Lucien, seeming to think before he nodded.

“I’ll send it up to your room in the morning," was all he said before he left the room. And once more, Lucien and Elain were left alone with nothing but a crackling fire.

There was a tension there that hadn’t been there before, or maybe it had, maybe they’d both just been too ignorant to see it.

The reality was there would always be that tension between them, that intrigue and possibility. Looking at her now, curled in an armchair, the dress having turned a glittering emerald in the firelight, he felt every inch of his skin respond to her.

Not for the first time, an unplanned fantasy strolled through his mind. An image of himself getting up off this couch and walking over to her, of him placing his knee on her armchair, in between her thighs, capturing her throat in his hand and lowering his lips to hers.

One blink and the image was gone. Perhaps it was the bond showing him these things, taunting him with a possibility that at this moment seemed unachievable.

“I, um, I wanted to talk to you actually,” Elain spoke into the silence, and briefly Lucien fretted if his scent had changed.

“Oh?”

“Yes…about Graysen.” Lucien’s hope dropped like lead in his gut.

“Oh.”

“I just wanted to say that I think you misread my emotions when I found out he was engaged which, I mean that’s not your fault. This whole bond kind of disrupts communication.”

Lucien just nodded. Looking at her, he saw the strands of hair that had come loose around her face, he wondered if they were as soft as they looked.

“I’m not upset about it. I don’t want him anymore,” Elain said plainly. “I just…I guess I want what he has.”

Lucien blinked. That wasn’t what he was expecting.

“What, specifically, do you want?” The words were careful, calculated.

“I’m not sure…his happiness? His ignorance?” Elain seemed to scowl slightly and then she was standing, setting her drink on a nearby table as she turned to the fire to warm her hands. Lucien pondered for a moment, definitely not using that time to worship at the way the dress followed the swell of her behind and, Mother help him, her thighs. Then he was up, moving around the table to join her at the fire.

Elain turned and watched him approach with an enigmatic stare, the fire reflecting in her glassy eyes.

“Graysen’s life is perhaps an easier one,” Lucien eventually breathed, “But whilst yours may prove more difficult, it is certainly more worthwhile.” Elain paused as she pondered his thoughts, and Lucien once more allowed himself to drink from her ever-flowing fountain of beauty.

“I just, I think it’s all so unfair.” She wrapped her arms around herself.

“Why?”

“Because why does he get to be happy? Why does he get to continue to live his life and just find someone else to marry? Is there no such thing as justice?”

“You are free to seek retribution Elain-”

“And give the humans further reason to hate the fae?”

 Lucien blinked. The timing of Graysen’s death would be unfortunate, but Lucien wanted to see the boy dead, even if that meant tomorrow an army would be at his door.

“The humans should be grateful the fae are ridding them of such vermin,” Lucien couldn’t help himself from spitting as he glared out the window. But not before he caught Elain giving a weary look and for the first time, he realised just how tired she looked. The way her shoulders hung forward and her arms curled limply around herself. Something akin to agony washed through him at the sight of his exhausted mate, followed by the overwhelming need to fix it, to take her into his arms and protect her from all the things that worried her. Lucien had to fold his arms tightly across his chest to stop himself from reaching out.

“I don’t want to have any revenge when it comes to Graysen because it’s not going to make me feel better,” Elain looked at the fire as she spoke, and Lucien hated the wobble in her voice. He hated that he didn’t know who was making her cry – him or the boy.

“It might.”

“No. It wouldn’t,” she said with such ferocity Lucien was temporarily reminded of Nesta. “You know why?” Elain scowled, her eyes tightening and her lips turning down into a cruel frown.

“Because I would’ve still loved him if he’d been the one to come back changed. I would’ve still married him, and I would’ve told him it’d be alright, and we’d figure it out together – and killing him isn’t going to change the fact that he wouldn’t do the same for me. That he would’ve never done that for me; and that means he never loved me the way I loved him. You don’t get Lucien. Killing him means nothing because there is nothing I can do to him to make him hurt even half as much as he hurt me because he simply, doesn’t, care. He will never even comprehend what he did to me. He will spend the rest of his life, even if that life ends tomorrow, in blissful ignorance of what he did and the damage he caused. Hurting him back would just be so…so pointless, and…I’m tired.” Elain curled in on herself with an exhausted, angry sigh.

“I know you think I came here because I was ready to finally deal with this…with us,” she met his eye and hunched herself into a smaller ball, her arms winding further around herself, “But that’s not it. I came here because I’m tired and there nothing left for me and, and I’m running out of-of-I’m running out of-”

She was starting to hyperventilate. Madja had warned her of this, the panic attacks that had become a side effect of her depression. She needed to breathe, she needed to calm down, she needed-

Lucien crossed the room in three strides. Some part of Elain wanted to recoil at him approaching her with such ferocity in his step and steel in his eye, but she couldn’t be scared of him. She could be afraid of the bond and what it meant to her, what he meant to her, but Lucien would never hurt her. Ever. That she knew.

He’d stilled in front of her, looking down at her enigmatically. She’d run out of words, and she didn’t know if Lucien understood what she was attempting to say. Every part of her was ready to just break down from how exhausted she was.

The silence drew on. The tension turning palpable, and when she was just about ready to fall to her knees and let the agony take over, his arms wrapped around her, and he pulled her firmly against his chest.

Elain let out a small sob as her face was pushed into the fabric of his shirt, her head resting against his upper ribs and lower chest. She’d never been so aware of how different they were in size; he was the tallest of them all and she the shortest. But it felt…good. And maybe she was touch-deprived, or maybe she was just deluded, but she found herself burrowing into him. He was so warm, and with his arms around her she felt like…like he had her. Like it didn’t matter if she let go and just crumpled because he had her and he wasn’t going to let her hit the floor.

At this point, falling was inevitable. Elain had been falling for some time, plummeting down and down after the Cauldron had tipped her out and washed her corpse on jagged stones. But with Lucien holding her she considered, for the first time, having a soft place to land.

She didn’t want him to see her cry, so she burrowed deeper. Her arms were still curled around her torso; Lucien’s curled around her back. Both of them holding onto her and keeping her together. A few seconds, minutes, hours of silence and she realised that after this, she could never forget how he smelt. Apples, warmth, musk, fresh Earth, smoke. Familiar and foreign. A stranger but…hers.

He smelt like an evening, an Autumnal evening, with a brilliant streaking sunset. The kind where it seemed like the sun had never been so alive, where the sun took the sky and turned into its masterpiece.

He was that masterpiece. The Autumnal sky. The Autumnal Sun.

Sighing, Elain waited for him to recoil. For his arms to slacken and for him to move away, for them to nod awkwardly at each and then go to bed and try to pretend that this conversation hadn’t happened. But time ticked by, and Lucien didn’t let go. If anything, his steely grip only tightened. As though with each passing second, where Elain expected him to drift away, he set out to hold on tighter. Their words had run out tonight, but Elain heard the message he was saying as he held her closer and closer. I’ve got you. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.

Elain breathed him in, and allowed herself to stay.

***

Right then, she wanted to tell him that she didn’t know how to do this, but she knew she didn’t want to hurt him. She wanted to say that she wasn’t sure if she could love again, that she might be a lost cause because Graysen had so thoroughly ruined her trust, and she wasn’t sure how high she’d built the walls around both her heart and mind. She wanted to say that she was lonely, and that she thought he was too, and what a funny pair they were in this world full of light and dark. Where good came in the form of people who made them both feel so alone.

She wanted to say that she was at a breaking point and had been for some time. That even though the war had ended it still raged within her. That no one else seemed to care because they’d got the happy endings whilst she just…existed.

She wanted to say that she didn’t know what she wanted. That her dream of being a wife and mother had been buried when she first tried to kill herself, three days after the Cauldron. Because how could she care for anyone else, especially a child, when she couldn’t care for herself.

She wanted to say that right now, in this moment, she just wanted to know him.

She just wanted a friend.

She wanted…

She wanted…

She wanted to run away and never look back. She wanted to damn the world that damned her. She wanted a brain that worked. A family she felt connected to. Someone to care.

Someone to fucking care. That was all.

But for now, this was enough. Lucien pulling her into his arms before she finally collapsed was enough. And so, tonight, she’d sleep. And that was enough too.

[thevolturiarejustbetter]

Almost NSFW-Alec Volturi P2

Ava’s POV 

It didn’t kick in yet. Bella would probably kill me if she knew but it doesn’t take a mind reader to know that my dear sister was extremely anxious and worried. We walked down a long, beautiful elegant hallway after passing the “future maybe desserts.” I hoped for the gummies to kick in soon because if I was going to die, painfully might i add, in the hands of a fuckin governing-power-royalty-mosquitos-whatever the hell they were, there was no way in hell I was about to do it sober. Was I too young to die? yes. But do I really give a shit? Yes, I do and I really don’t want to die on an empty stomach, but then again I really don’t wanna be here so it’s not like we all have choice here.The jetlag was just too much and I honestly at this point was leaving it up to natural selection to just do its thing. My plan was to just shut my mouth, follow Bella, slap the shiny disco named Edward, and then one of the red eyes would probably snap my neck or something because apparently, according to Alice, Edward broke one of their most sacred laws. I just pray that Bella will be happy again and maybe not a total fuckin idiot for the rest of her future immortal life. As for the Edward guy, I’m pretty sure there’s like no hope left for him. 

 if you’ve lived for more than a century and STILL lack common sense, it’s just hopeless for you at this point bud. And don’t you dare tell her I took these gummies i was anxious the whole time and its literally a fuckin miracle that i managed to get these through customs, you owe me that much. I thought to myself        

The mind rapist turned around to give me one annoyed look, but I could see in his eyes that he was apologetic and worried. 

We quickly approached the grand wooden doors. There were guard lining up the doors. Alice randomly whispered, “theyre the lower guards, the replaceable ones” as if I had any idea what the hell she meant by that, but the lower guards were stone faced, I honestly thought they were sculptures until one of them bowed to jane and opened the wooden doors.

We were greeted by a dude with red eyes that looked exactly like jane except much taller and like all of them- pale as fuck. He smiled and came forward to greet Jane. 

“Jane” 

“Alec” she smiled for the first time and reached out to him. We stood awkwardly for a few seconds as they embraced and kissed each other on both cheeks. tf is this France? 

Alice blocked me from the view she seemed even more nervous than she was before, and the only vampires that could see me right now were the Demetri guy and the other one that was like 7 feet tall. The Alec boy suddenly stopped smiling and sniffed as if he was smelling something new. He quickly recovered and started to talk again

“And this is the cause of all the trouble?” 

“dibs” someone said and Edward started to growl. 

They passed another set of doors that were entirely gold and approached another set of plain wooden doors

Then it finally started to kick in. I sighed a breathe of relief. My plan was working. There were three vampires in the middle of the room, all of them in their 20s-late 20s. But I started losing focus and depended on Alice who was next to me for physical and emotional support. 

third POV

“They have another human with them. Brother this is absolutely ridiculous. It is clear that the Cullens have absolutely no respect towards us.” Caius hissed in disbelief

That was when every pair of eye in the throne room was on the other human. The other human looked young and shared no resemblance with the original human causing the trouble. The depressed king suddenly sat up. He had seen something he was not prepared for. One of their Elite guards had finally found not only his bloodsinger but also his true mate, that happened to be human and none other than the Bella Swan’s sister.

Alec felt like he was floating. Never in his 3,000 years of being an immortal had he expected to ever find a mate or a bloodsinger. But here he was. He had found both. The tired looking human was absolutely breathtaking in his eyes. He could every detail of her face. He ached to be close to her. At this point everyone had noticed his stance. 

Jane and Caius were showing confusion on their flawless cold faces, as Aro and Marcus started to exchange hands. Edward,Bella, and Alice tensed up,even more, unsure of what was going to unfold. Suddenly, a childlike yet angelic laughter echoed throughout the room. 

“Oh my, I absolutely adore happy endings. Not only is Bella Swan alive but her younger  sister seems to be the mate and bloodsinger of our dear beloved Alec.” The man with the raven black hair rejoiced giddily, his hands together. 

“La tua Cantante” 

Ava POV 

I was feeling high but clearly not enough because I was still well aware of my surroundings. The vampire with his raven black hair slicked back said something in italian  La tea cans … Cans? Edward was soon by my side in attempts to reassure me and calm down my anxiety. He opened his mouth carefully as if he was thinking carefully about what he was about to say next.

“Alec over there is..he’s your mate.” he mumbled but it was enough for me to hear. 

“What?” I answered bluntly almost close to yelling.  When edward looked down and failed to answer, instead of turning to Alice I did the logical mature thing I could think of.

Third POV

Slap

Ava slapped edward in the back of his head over and over again. Her sister and Alice were just watching helplessly and hopelessly as Ava poured out all her anger. Her hands were severely bruised at this point but because of the effect of the gummies and her rage she could give less than two shits. 

“YOU FUCKIN IDIOT. MAKING MY SISTER DEPRESSED FOR 6 WHOLE MONTHS WASN’T ENOUGH HUH HUH? YOU DRAGGED MY ASS ALL THE WAY FROM NYC TO FUCKIN EUROPE AND WHAT THE FUCK ARE WE EVEN DOING?” this was the point where Ava didn’t care about the others in the room because she was probably gonna die anyways and since her gummies weren’t doing shit she felt the need  to take out her rage on the stupid depressed vegan 

After 10 continuous slaps her hand was literally turning into a purplish red so she looked towards the amused 7 feet giant

“Do your job and HIT HIM PLEASE-GODDAMN IT” 

In a split second the pixie haired vampire was next to Ava, taking off her glove and holding the human’s badly bruised hand. And before they all knew it soothing black mists surrounded them, surrounding Ava’s badly bruised hand.

Link to Part one

[zims-left-shoe]

I'd about this stuff but zim x reader where reader has to introduce zim to family and its awkward and fluffy?!?! Did I do that correctly??

AAAA yes!! This prompt actually works perfectly. Ily bby!! I really need to get back on Insta and Snap so we can talk more lmao.

Romance. What even is it? You could never say for sure, and yet you had been playing the courtship expert for about a month or so. What else were you supposed to do? Not only would he not take no for an answer, it was a fine way to kill your boredom. He had zero expectations, which was what made it great. You could tell him anything and he would believe it. Boyfriends were supposed to do their s/o's homework for them? He never questioned it once. To be completely honest, he was the only reason you were passing chemistry and calculus. 

That being said, at the end of the day, it was all one big game. Wasn't it? All he had asked of you was to be his 'lovepig' in a romantic experiment he was conducting. You had nothing else better to do, and hell, it wasn't like you needed to be keeping your options open. You were just as unpopular as the alien freak himself. So, why not? Wasn't it just some mutualistic dynamic? You both benefited from it. He got 'data' (the accuracy of it questionable) for his Earth infiltration, and you got to have some fun. Plus, there was the fact that you haven't touched a homework assignment in weeks.

These were all things you had told yourself. You had managed to explain away all the times you had defended him from Dib and your classmates as being all part of the experiment. If there was a deeper reason, like real feelings perhaps, you didn't want to consider it too much. This relationship was intended to be one big joke after all. 

"Y/n? Hello?" A hand was waved in front of your face, ripping you from your thoughts and reflections. 

"Huh? Did you say something?" You tore your gaze from the plate of uneaten food that sat before you, eyes dragging up to meet those of your father. The man next to him groaned; your other father. You loved them both, but they were both staring at you with slightly annoyed frustration. They particularly disliked when you would space out while they were talking to you, which apparently they had been.

"Yes, I did. I said, when do we get to meet the boyfriend?" The one you called Father spoke; he was your biological sire, and the one you tended to get annoyed with the most. Genetics, you supposed. You were too much alike, and thus you butted heads often.

"Zim? I dunno." Shrugging, you picked at the dinner on your plate with your fork. It was a response that you hoped would suffice, despite knowing full well you had no intentions of ever introducing the Irken soldier for obvious reasons. Having lived with you for so long, they both knew what your response meant. At first, you assumed they'd only sigh and move on, but that wouldn't be the case. 

"We really want to meet him. We've given it a month, but I think it's time that we finally see him." Your father spoke again, voice firmer than the last time.

"I know you said he's...er, unique, but we promise we won't think anything of it. So long as he's good to you, it doesn't matter." The one you called Dad chimed in, a kind smile on his face. You knew he wasn't just saying that, and that he meant it. He was probably the nicest person you had ever met, and you were thankful to have him in your life.

That being said, you couldn't help but scoff at what was said, particularly the last line. Good to you? Zim was probably the most selfish person you had ever met in your life. Still, he did provide you with a source of entertainment. And if you worded things the right way, he would do anything you wanted him to. He was surprisingly easy to manipulate. 

"What's so funny?" 

"Nothing, Dad. But, no. I don't think you'll be meeting him." You expected that to be the end of it, bringing a forkful of dinner to your lips. 

"Y/n M/n L/n, you will bring your boyfriend home within the next week or else you won't be seeing him ever again." Eyes widening in surprise, your fork clattered against your plate as it slipped through your fingers. You would never have predicted your father to become so agitated over this. On some level, you supposed he was just looking out for you, wanting to make sure that Zim was a decent guy and all that. But at the same time, it was annoying. Did he not trust you to handle yourself? Plus, you were almost certain they wouldn't be satisfied upon actually meeting Zim. 

You remained silent. What you should have done was once again shrug your shoulders and say, 'fine'. Your relationship wasn't even supposed to be real, just some experiment that didn't matter too much to either of you. So why should you care if they forced you to break up because you wouldn't bring him home? And yet...you found yourself devastated at the mere thought of that. Was it because you enjoyed the absence of boredom? That had to be it. It couldn't possibly be because you had developed feelings for the little roach...no way. 

"You either bring him home for dinner Friday night, or-" Your father pressed, and you slammed your palm on the table before he could continue.

"Fine, okay!" Glaring at your food, you were no longer hungry. You just wanted dinner to be over. "May I be excused?" You asked, voice still seething with attitude. They both waved you off, so you took your plate and covered it, putting it in the fridge for later. Storming off to your room, you supposed you shared more similarities with your 'boyfriend' than you'd like to admit. You both had quick tempers for one thing, but you both liked being in control for another. You were about to get a rude awakening soon enough; you weren't keeping your feelings and relationships in check as much as you thought.

(more under the cut)

-

There were several ways your peers, if asked, would describe you. Nice, however, was not particularly one of them. It wasn't that you weren't a good person deep down. You just preferred to make yourself your number one priority, even if it turned you into a little bit of a bitch in the process. It was much easier than taking the risk of offering yourself up to others. After all, who really wants to deal with untangling the mess of emotions? Ignoring everything was the safest thing to do. Considering that, it wasn't surprising that you and Zim had been drawn together. They say opposites attract, but you found it to work almost the same for those who are similar. 

After all, Zim was also a big supporter of suppressing all emotions, so much so that you were sure he forgot he even had any. And maybe he didn't. You didn't think it was possible, considering he was still pretty much a person, but at the same time, you never asked about Irken psychology.

Not only that, but Zim seemed to care only for himself at all times. Even in the times he would do anything that vaguely resembled an act of love, it still had everything to do with his own personal motivations of gaining human courtship data. 

With all of that on the table, plus the fact that you weren't really sure what the status of your relationship even was, you weren't expecting you would be bringing him home for dinner Friday. What you envisioned happening was for him to call this whole thing off once you gave him the ultimatum, claiming that he had enough research so you would be through.

And again, there was that small wave of anxiety that passed over you. For whatever reason, you didn't want to lose whatever it was the two of you had going on. You had grown used to having someone to talk to everyday, even if the majority of conversation was listening to him drone on about his evil plans to conquer the Earth in the name of the Irken empire. Frowning, you glanced down to whatever toxic food substance was sitting on your tray. 

The surrounding cafeteria was filled with the chatter of your classmates, all rambling about mostly unimportant things. You had your popular kids laughing and running their own psychoanalysis on Dib, who in turn ignored them from across the room while his sister played video games by his side. You also had your social outcasts, sitting by themselves and discussing whatever they liked to talk about; well, Gretchen wasn't exactly talking. She chose to occupy her time by staring at Dib, who in turn ignored her too. Same shit as always. 

The din of irrelevant voices and clattering plates barely did anything to mask the forceful footsteps approaching your table, ones that could only be brought about by a soldier's march. Whether it was because you had grown so used to the sound or you were so wrapped up in your mind, the noise didn't register with you until a tray was harshly dropped onto the table.

"Why do you look like that?" The alien now sitting across from you asked, with a hint of something that at first you thought was distaste, but later recognized to be Zim's version of concern. Which was strange in itself, concern for others was always an afterthought for him, sometimes not even a thought at all.

"Like what?"

"All shmoopy." You narrowed your eyes, about to give a remark of denial, but whatever words died in your throat as you instinctively straightened up from your slouch, lips straightening from downturned into a neutral expression.

Breathing out a sigh, you decided to just get straight to the point before he would go off on a tangent about whatever thing Dib said in class that offended him. "Look, Zim. You need to come over for dinner Friday night, or else our relationship, experiment, whatever the hell it is, is over." Zim opened his mouth to say something, but you continued on before he could get even a single syllable out. "I know you don't want to, and believe me, you embarrassing yourself in front of my family is the last thing I want, but my parents are demanding to meet you. And if they don't, they're forbidding me from seeing you again or whatever." 

The Irken stayed quiet for a moment, thinking this over. To you, you guessed that his silence was him formulating some great break up speech in his head, so you braced for it. Why you even cared was beyond you, but it was still not what you wanted. "First of all, Zim will not embarrass himself!" You fixed him with a disbelieving look. There was no chance in any of the infinite parallel universes that he would not make a complete fool of himself. "But FINE! Zim will conquer this...interrogation."

Rolling your eyes, you attempted to fight the grin tugging at your lips. "It's not an interrogation, roach boy."

He disregarded your comment, clearly no longer listening. Instead, he hopped up onto the table, heeled soldier boots striking the tabletop, the sound echoing off the cafeteria walls. "Zim will be the best love-mate your parental units have ever laid eyes on!!" He yelled, throwing his fists in the air. Shrinking into yourself, you covered your face with your arms, face burning from the heads that were all turning in your direction to stare.

"Please don't say it like that." After a moment, Zim climbed back down and into his seat on the bench. Your classmates quickly lost interest, as these outbursts were commonplace. Eventually, you came out of your self cocoon to lay some very specific instructions on him. "Okay, cool. I need you to listen very carefully."

"Eh?" He snapped his attention back to you. Groaning, you reached across the tabled to grab his hand, your go to move to make sure he listened to you.

"Come over Friday at six. The whole time, just smile and nod. Don't say anything more than necessary. Just get by with the bare minimum, and then go home. Do you understand?" You looked to him with an intense look in your eyes. You knew that if you were not explicitly clear, the night could end in disaster. House-exploding, alien death battle kind of disaster. 

"Of course I do! Don't worry your stinky head, Zim has it under control." He dropped your hand, waving you off, overconfident as always. 

"Alright...I'm trusting you." You didn't trust him in the slightest. But there was really nothing you would be capable of doing. You had instructed him, very specifically you might add, and that was all you could do. And hope. You would be hoping too. With one last relenting sigh, you had no time to process the relief that came with the surprise of not being broken up with. Whatever relaxation you had briefly felt was immediately replaced by dread for Friday.

-

You laid sprawled on the couch, staring at the ceiling and drumming your fingers on your stomach. You really hoped that Zim would take your advice and behave himself over the course of the next few hours, but in the back of your mind, you knew that to be impossible. The house had been quiet, save for the clanging of pots and pans in the kitchen as your dad worked on dinner. Meanwhile, your father was just finishing tidying up the house, despite you telling him that it didn't matter. You told him that Zim wouldn't care, but the real reason it didn't matter is it probably would end up in worse shape regardless. His response had been to ignore you as he continued to wipe down surfaces you forgot existed. 

Right at six o'clock on the dot, your doorbell rang. You bolted up right, scrambling to reach the door faster than your father. Unfortunately, you weren't quite quick enough to match his long-legged stride, and he threw open the door just as you had the doorway within your sights. You had to skid to a halt in order to stop yourself from slamming into your father's back. 

"You must be Zim." Your father's voice was firm, but not threatening. At least not yet. You peered around him to get a good look at Zim, who, to your relief, was smiling and nodding. You stifled the laugh that was brought on at the sight of a simple black bow tie that was tied very incorrectly around his neck. It was a strange sight, considering it didn't quite fit with the standard invader uniform he always adorned. 

Your father stepped aside to let him in, sticking his hand out afterwards, prompting the Irken to shake it. Zim gazed at it quizzically, apparently not understanding what to do. Just as you were about to bestow a helpful hint, his face brightened as he kicked his leg up, resting his foot in your father's hand. He still seemed to be processing the motivations behind Zim's actions, but before he could respond, you grabbed ahold of Zim's leg, yanking it back onto the ground. The invader stumbled, and before he could fall, you threw an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in close and poking his cheek.

"Oh, Zim, what a jokester! Anyway, we'll be off now, call when dinner's ready-" You tried to drag your alien counterpart away before he could do anything else stupid, but unfortunately, your father had other plans.

"No, I don't think so." Although his voice was less than pleased, you knew he was just trying to put up an intimidating front. He wanted to scare Zim at least a little bit. Groaning, you turned around. "So, you think this whole thing is one big joke, huh?"

"Father, please-" You rolled your eyes, knowing that Zim was too dense to actually be pressured by your father's act. 

"You do drugs? Ever been suspended?"

"I thought you said this wasn't an interrogation." Zim muttered to you, and although it was intended to only be heard by you, Zim is physically incapable of speaking under his breath, and thus your father heard it too. You thought he was more fazed by Zim being unaffected by his grill attempts than what was actually said. 

"What's with the...you know?" Your father decided to ignore Zim's comment and go right for the green elephant in the room: Zim's appearance. In all honesty, it was a rude question. But, Zim was used to it by now.

"We talked about this! It's a skin condition!" You sighed in exasperation, just wanting to get through this night with your sanity intact. "Also, you can't just ask people that." There was an awkward pause between everybody, and you almost wished Zim would start screaming about something not even relevant.

Luckily, you didn't have to stew in silence for much longer. "Dinner's ready, come get it or don't!" Your dad called from the table. You gestured for Zim to follow you as you shuffled after your father, whose strides were quick and long, making it hard to keep up at a normal pace. Both parents had sat down, you following suit across from them. Zim, however, stayed standing, eyes fixated on the plate and glass of water resting on the table in front of the chair next to you. You hoped he was sensible enough to just ignore the food and sit there politely. 

"You can sit down, you know." Your father eyed Zim skeptically. The invitation to take a seat seemed to snap Zim out of his trance, as he sat down so fast he bumped the table, making the silverware shake. He finally appeared to take notice of your parents, and pointed a clawed finger across the table.

"It's like my Tallest!" His grin was wide, and his contacts portrayed his excitement. Your parents, on the other hand, looked to be beyond confused. You didn't exactly blame Zim for the association, considering both were tall males, and his comment made you notice that they were coincidentally wearing hues of red and purple. "I didn't know you had your own Tallest." 

"Who?" Your dad asked, eyes flicking between you and your uninformed alien boyfriend. You gave Zim a swift swat to his thigh under the table, intending to convey the message of 'what happened to smiling and nodding?'. He seemed to understand your intention, and answered your dad's question by cracking a smile and nodding furiously. Internally, you were smacking yourself in the face as both parents stared at you as if they were wondering whether or not Zim was higher than a fucking kite. The dinner so far was going fantastic. At least he hadn't caused any physical damage yet.

Your father cleared his throat, deciding to move on. "So, Zim...what are your plans after high school?" Thank god, a subject change. That being said, your relief only lasted about a half a second before you realized he didn't have any answers to this type of question, and he was horrible at bullshitting. 

"Um...oh, you know...stuff." Zim took a fork and began to experimentally stab at the food that was on his plate. "Sciency stuff." He tacked on those words, sensing your father not being satisfied with his original answer.

"Like what, doing an internship at Membrane Labs or something?" Your father continued to ask questions, but at this point you were helpless to stop him. Zim was on his own. 

"Yes!" Your father seemed to not believe Zim's confirmation, so you decided to help him out.

"Yeah, he's actually really good friends with Dib. You know, the Professor's son." You offered, albeit a stretch of the truth. The two knew each other very well, and, well, enemies after enough time are basically friends anyway. 

"Yes...the Dib-worm is my best friend." Zim spoke through gritted teeth, and you prayed that your parents wouldn't pick up on the venom seeping into every syllable. 

"You have any siblings?" Your dad asked, gaze less critical than the man next to him.

"No." His answer was short, almost as if he was attempting to speedrun the questions to get this dinner over with faster. Unfortunately, your parents would only fill it with more questions. Any attempt to stop them would be futile. 

"Where are you from exactly?" 

"Somewhere that isn't here. Eh, uh, er...it's very far. You wouldn't know it." Your father raised an eyebrow, growing tired of Zim's evasive and nonspecific responses. In a shocking turn of events, Zim was actually able to read the room for once in his life, picking up on your parents' distrust. "Wow, is this good food or what?" Before you could squeak out a single sound, Zim began to shovel the food on his plate into his mouth as fast as he could, washing it down by chugging the glass of water.

This of course sent you into a panic. You reached out an arm, to do what you weren't sure, but you never made contact. Instead, your hand hovered in the air as you gawked at Zim in bewilderment. He wasn't smoking, flailing, or screaming. In fact, he was taking it quite well. Everything seemed to be okay, and even he seemed to be surprised. His face relaxed into a smile when he realized that nothing was trying to kill him from the inside. Which, if that was what he had expected, you weren't quite sure what his plan had been in the first place, but you knew better than to question him. Questioning Zim only led to long rants that no one had the energy or the willpower to listen to. 

"Thank you-" Your dad's gratitude was cut off by Zim's ear piercing shriek as he dropped to the ground, knocking aside his chair in the process. He thrashed about like a fish out of water as he clawed desperately at his throat and face. Apparently, the delayed reaction had kicked in. His ear-piercing screeches were chopped up by choking and spluttering as he continued to kick and flounder his limbs around wildly. Looking up from the Irken rolling around on the ground to your parents, you noticed that they looked absolutely petrified. 

"He's fine! He'll be fine!" You waved your hands desperately, despite knowing full well they would never believe you. As if to accentuate the incorrectness of your statement, Zim howled out another cry of pain, the sound twisting your face into a cringe. At once, your parents clambered out of their seats, stumbling over each other to get to your side of the table. Your dad kneeled down next to Zim and tried to help him, completely at a loss for what was going on. Meanwhile, your father grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you off around the corner to the kitchen.

As you're being hauled away, you hear a distant "Should I call 911?" from your dad. 

As soon as you were out of ear shot of your suffering boyfriend, your father whisper yelled at you. "What the hell is wrong with him?!"

Again, you felt the need to defend him. It wasn't his fault that his alien biology couldn't handle Earth food, and that he didn't understand Earth culture too well. Okay, maybe that last one was his fault considering he's been on the planet for about four years and blending in was kind of his job. But still! "Look, I promise he's a decent guy once you get to know him."

"He's strange, Y/n! Not in the good way, in a concerning way." He hissed to you, never dropping eye contact. 

"He's just a little different is all!"

"A little different?! He's dying in our dining room!" Suppressing the urge to say, 'you mean our die-ning room?', you took a deep breath, preparing to explain away the probably traumatizing situation your parents were witnessing.

"He has a biological condition that makes it to where he can't a majority of foods." You thought that maybe that statement would calm him down, but it only seemed to worry him more.

"Jesus, Y/n, you couldn't have told us about the dietary restrictions before you brought him over? We almost just killed him!" Running a hand through his hair, he watched as you cast your eyes toward the ground, wringing your hands together. You knew he was right. It was something you should have thought of saying beforehand, you should have just told Zim to bring some Irken food along. But you had expected him to not even think about touching the food. And yet, you had just watched as he scarfed down almost the entire plate and a whole glass of water. 

"Sorry! But...would you please just give him another chance?" You pleaded, voice sweeter than you had ever sounded in your life. 

With a heavy sigh, your father nodded, waving you in the direction of the dining room. "Fine, if he doesn't need to go to the hospital, he can stay for the movie if he wants to. Just go hang out upstairs while we clean up" Your smile displayed your thanks as you made your way back to the scene of the accident. Things seemed to be alright now. If anything, your dad was more shaken up than Zim was. The Irken was standing again, pretending as if nothing happened.

"C'mon." You said nothing more as you took him by the hand, pulling him towards your room. He didn't protest, glad to be away from your dad who had been continuing to fuss over him. As you shut the door to your room behind you, the solace that came with knowing he was okay completely drained from your body. "What the hell was that?!" You smacked him lightly on the arm. He should know better than to consume food that would cause his insides to sizzle and smoke. Apparently, he seemed to still think that had been an ingenious idea.

"Zim was trying to show them that I am a good candidate for your love partner!" Your eyes widened, astonished on multiple levels. He really was a special kind of clueless, wasn't he?

"That was not the way! And why do you even care? I thought this was just some stupid experiment? Why should you care if this whole thing ends, you can just find someone else!" Throwing your hands up, your voice raised in volume, fire licking every word.

"Because Zim doesn't want someone else! Zim wants you, Stinky...Stink-worm." His voice had matched yours in loudness at first, but near the end of his words he grew quieter, arms crossed tightly against his chest, eyes averted in curt sheepishness. If Irkens could blush, you were sure he would be.

Any follow up argument you possessed had fled your brain, the only thing replacing it being the slight heat that flushed your cheeks. "Zim...are you saying that you actually...like me?" You were surprised, but pleasantly so. Now that you had to force yourself to think on it, you had realized that somewhere along the way, you began to like the roach boy more than you care to admit. It was a bit irritating to dwell on, considering this whole arrangement was, in the end, supposed to be no strings attached. He got his data, you had something to fill your time. Life has a funny way of panning things out, regardless of your intentions. 

"Zim is saying nothing!" His eyes were shut tight, a sign you could interpret as confirmation to your question. Neither of you would admit it, nor ever wanted to. That was the unfortunate downside to both sides of the equation having destructively low EQs. 

Even if you wanted to press him more, you were interrupted by your parents calling you for the movie. Sighing, it seemed you would have to shelve this conversation for a later date, which was fine by you. Feelings were messy and complicated anyway. "Let's go, roach boy." Zim followed without complaint, and as soon as you both came into view, your parents hit play on the film, which you instantly recognized as E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, something you had seen a million times. It had been your movie of choice as a kid. "Topical." You murmured under your breath, directing Zim to the couch. 

Your parents seemed impressed to see Zim alive and well, acting as if he hadn't been borderline dying on the dining room floor less than twenty minutes ago. "We've seen this about a hundred times, we know how it ends. You two have fun." Your father smiled to the both of you. Apparently, he actually listened to you and was giving Zim the benefit of the doubt.

"But not too much fun." Your dad added helpfully, but of course the implications of his comment flew right over Zim's head. 

"Anyway, if we don't see you before you leave, it was nice to meet you, Zim. Sorry for almost killing you." Your father didn't wait for a response--which he most likely wouldn't have gotten anyway--before heading to bed with your dad, most likely to watch something of their own. Your parents flicked the lights off as they exited, leaving the room dark, save for the light being thrown from the TV, as well as a soft glow coming from Zim's PAK. You had never noticed that before, but it made sense, considering this was the first time you had seen him in the dark before.

"You might like this. It's about an alien who comes to Earth. Well, more like gets stranded on Earth." 

"Hmm." Zim peered at the screen with interest, but began to frantically rub at his eyes, blinking repeatedly. Before you could even ask if he was okay, he snapped a tired response. "Contacts are bothering Zim." 

"Just take 'em out." He attempted to fix you with a distrusting stare, but it was broken by another stint of scratching. "They won't be coming back out, at least not before you leave. You'll be fine." You sank into the couch cushions, the darkness and familiarity of a favorite movie easing you into a contented state.

"Fine. But Zim is blaming you if you're wrong, Stink-worm." With speed and skill, he peeled the lenses from his eyes, stowing them in his PAK, which didn't seem all that sanitary. He blinked a few more times, but seemed comfortable. You directed your attention to the TV screen, but it was snapped away again at the feeling of weight settling on your thigh. Looking down, you saw Zim's head casually laid on your leg, eyes fixated on the movie. "Say anything and I'm replacing your organs with space squids." Zim grumbled, still not looking at you. 

"That's not very nice." You snickered through your words. You knew his threat was empty, and you weren't exactly a stranger to outlandish warnings yourself.

The Irken groaned, still not moving. "Ugh, fine. Say anything, and I'll, eh, lick your face or something." You said nothing more, arm resting lazily on his side, hand hanging near his own. Out of his own volition, he intertwined his claws with your fingers, almost daring you to say something. You didn't.

As the movie progressed, you could tell Zim was a hundred percent into it. That being said, when it came time for the scenes of Elliot and E.T. dying and being treated by the government, you felt Zim grip you a little tighter. You were beginning to wonder if you should turn it off. You were only encouraged in that thought when you felt Zim's back tremble, and although you couldn't see his face, you believed him to be crying.

You reached out your free hand for the remote, but stopped at the sound of Zim's uncharacteristically shaky voice. "Do-don't." You drew back your free hand, the other hand being tucked closer into Zim's chest. A sigh slipped past your lips, and you lifted him up and set him on the ground while he swiped at his eyes so you could kick your legs up and across the couch, reaching out to grab him and lay him on top of you before he could even begin to protest about being moved.

"You okay?" You asked, expecting a fight about being placed in this position. 

To your amazement, he didn't squirm off of you at all, instead, saying a simple "Yes." He even cuddled into you, head resting on your chest as he watched the film. This was the calmest you had ever seen the normally high-energy alien. A hand began to absentmindedly stroke his back, the texture of the fabric of his uniform unlike any you had ever felt. At first you were at a loss for what the rumbling against your chest was, but after a moment you were able to place it. Purrs were rising from Zim's throat, and although it was reminiscent of a cat, it was still a sound that was distinctly alien. It was a noise you had never heard before.

"For the record, I like you. A lot." You murmured quietly, hoping he was too enthralled by the movie to register what was said. Regrettably for you, Zim only seemed to listen when you wished him not to.

"Zim also thinks you are quite tolerable...for an Earth-worm."

"Gee, thanks. I feel so special." Despite your words, there was still a smile in your voice. At this point, the movie was past it's tearjerker moments, and the kids were all trying to get E.T. back to the forest. "So, do Irkens have a thing like E.T., where they connect with someone?" The syncing of Elliot and E.T.'s biological functions, emotions, and thoughts was a main plot point in the movie, and it got you wondering if maybe there was some accuracy, if not with Irkens, perhaps with another alien race?

"Sort of." His answer was unfocused, still drawn into the end of the film. You guessed this would be his new favorite Earth movie, which meant he would most certainly be demanding for you two to watch it together at least twice a month. 

"What do you mean, ‘sort of’?"

"We mate for life." He paused while you were still processing his statement. "But I don't think that was the connection you were asking about."

"Oh brother." You mumbled, deciding to toss that information out the window. Good to know that you wouldn't be getting of the roach anytime soon...or ever. 

[bonniebird]

A version of home

Sam Winchester x Reader / Dean Winchester x Reader (Not sure about the pairing yet)

AN: This is 100% a self-indulgent comfort fic I started for myself xD

Masterlist

“Bobby? Is everything ok?” Sam asked as he answered his phone. Dean frowned and glanced at his brother as he drove. There was a long silence as Sam listened to Bobby and Dean clicked his tongue impatiently as he waited for Sam to say something, anxiety bubbled bitterly in the pit of his stomach as Sam hummed a few times. He hated waiting for an update. 

The last he heard from Bobby, when he’d called that morning, everything was fine. He hadn't expected to hear from Bobby again, seeing as they were on their way to his house.

“Urm… yeah… let me check the map. We shouldn’t be too far from there. If you give me the address we can get there this afternoon.” Sam said as he started fumbling in the glove box for a pen and paper.

“Whats going on?” Dean asked quickly. He glanced quickly at Sam who frowned, a pen hanging from his mouth, as he dug into the back of the glove box and pulled a scrap of paper out.

“Just take the next left instead of going the back way to Bobby’s.” Sam said as he held the phone between his shoulder and ear, scribbling something on the paper. “Ok, we’re heading onto route ninety now.”

“So? What’s going on?” Dean asked as he sped up, watching Sam hang up and trace the route he’d set on the map. Dean’s tone was short and pensive, he was starting to worry but when he glanced at Sam again his expression made it easier for Dean to take a breath.

“Bobby needs us to pick something up from Presho, it’s only two and a half hours from Bobby’s. It looks like if we go this way we should pretty much pass right through.” Sam explained as he fumbled with one of the maps that he’d fished out of the glove compartment.

“Great, we’ll still make it in time for dinner. Apparently Bobby saved one of his neighbours and they dropped round apple crumble. It’s almost as good as apple pie!”

The drive to Presho didn’t take too long, the roads were clear and Dean sped along, able to zone out a little as the music blared. Sam had fallen asleep a good two hours before but as Dean pulled up outside of the motel Bobby had sent them to he emergency breaked which jerked Sam awake.

“Dean! Dude, come on.” Sam grumbled as he rubbed his face and looked around.

“Well we’re here. What was it that Bobby wanted you to get? I’m assuming some old books or something.”

“He didn’t really say. I figured that the address was for a library or a house. You’re sure this is right?” Sam asked as he glanced at the ordinary looking motel Dean had parked in front of.

They both stared up at the old building. There weren’t many cars in the parking lot and the E in the motel flickered every now and then. It hadn’t occurred to either of them that it was starting to get dark. A couple started walking over to the car and Sam pointed out that they could have something for Bobby, as they were holding a book shaped parcel wrapped up. The couple passed by as the back door of the Impala opened.

“Yes, Bobby. I see the old car. I’m getting in it now. I have all of my stuff! Bobby. I shipped the rest of my stuff to you last week.” You said as you slammed the car door shut. Sam and Dean stared at each other for a moment, Sam mouth Bobby’s name to Dean who shrugged. “Bobby it’s bad enough you won't let me stay out here by myself… It is not my fault that the werewolf totaled my car! I’m not careless, I'm just fast… Which sometimes appears to be careless.”

“Urm. Hey, I’m Dean… are we supposed to drop you off at Bobby’s or..?” Dean started as he turned in his seat. You’d already made yourself at home, feet up on the back seat as you sprawled over, your bags shoved in the footwell.

“Bobby wants to talk to the Idjits?” You said as you leant forwards between the front seats and Sam hurriedly took the phone. “Hi, I’m (Y/N).” You said and smiled at Dean who gave you a dubious smile.

“Oh, no everything is good Bobby.” Sam said as he hung up and handed back your phone. “Bobby might have told me that we were picking someone up. I was distracted when I was looking for the map.” Sam confessed. Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Will you sit in your seat… and don’t put your shoes up on my damn seats! I just cleaned them.” Dean complained as he started backing out of the motel parking lot. You gave him a challenging look before nodding, deciding to eat a snack so obnoxiously loud that it was hard for Dean to hide that he was irritated by the mess you were making, Sam was having a hard time not laughing at Dean. He got the impression you were going to give them, and Bobby a run for your money when it came to go along with what Bobby wanted.

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

“You boys are late.” Bobby called out as he hung up his latest call and started heading into the kitchen through the back entrance. Dean had hurried through the door first and dumped his duffle bag by the back door.

“Yeah, well. Next time you want me to pick someone up, call a taxi!” Dean said irritably as he rummaged in the fridge for a beer.

“(Y/N) being a pain?” Bobby asked and Dean grunted out a response as he headed to the living room.

“Dean doesn’t like it when people put dirty shoes on his seats.” Sam said as he lugged in several bags that Bobby knew were definitely yours. You’d been unhappy that he’d insisted that you came to stay with him for a while. At least you eventually agreed. You came in a few moments later with just two bags that looked rather light.

“Jeez Bobby! You harpe at me for being unorganised. Look at this place. You’d double the floor space if you put up a bookshelf.” You said as soon as you followed Sam into the living room.

“If you want it any other way then you can get to it yourself.” Bobby joked as he started dishing up the food one of his neighbours had sent over. She’d been doing it a lot since he’d saved her from whatever it had been he saved her from last month. Honestly hunts seemed to bleed into one and he was happy that he could spend a little time not thinking about it, even if it meant sitting in front of the tv with his dinner and the boys taking up the space on his sofa.

“Is every room in the house like this? No wonder you take so long getting back to the hunters that call you.” You said with a cheeky tone he tutted as he shook his head.

“You have a room and you’re getting free food. You don’t like it…”

“I can go somewhere else! Great, thanks Bobby. I’ll pass the message along to Ellen.” You said cheerfully as Bobby handed you a plate of food. You took up one of the armchairs at the edge of the room, starting to tuck into the meal. Honestly you could’t remember the last time you hadn’t just grabbed fast food.

“Whose Ellen?” Sam asked curiously as he shoved Dean with his foot as he settled into one side of the sofa.

“She runs the hunter bar up in Nebraska.” You answered casually before looking over at Bobby and adding. “I thought you said these two were hunters?”

“They are. Their dad, John, hunted with your parents.” Bobby answered. Sam and Dean glanced at each other when you didn’t say anything for a long while and the mood seemed to plummet abruptly.

“Thanks for letting me stay Bobby.” You said quietly after several minutes. Bobby nodded and grunted something gruffly as he kept his attention on the tv.

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

“So that was weird right?” Dean asked as he fidgeted on the air mattress Bobby had put out for him. Normally he and Sam would have gotten to take turns in the spare bedroom that had started becoming infected with more and more books over the years. The room was yours now which meant the five games of rock paper scissors before driving down was a waste of time.

“I guess. I asked Bobby and he said that (Y/N)’s parents were killed on a hunt two years ago. He promised to look after (Y/N) they’ve been getting more and more careless apparently Rufus happened to find their car totalled and a werewolf nearly got them. (Y/N) was lucky Rufus had even picked up the case. That was the last straw for Bobby.” Sam said as he rolled over on the sofa. He was regretting calling dibs on the sofa now, seeing as he couldn’t get comfortable.

“Well that sucks. Hunting alone is pretty hard. I guess it’s good that Bobby’s looking out for them.” Dean said as he finally found a comfortable spot.

“Yeah, I guess it is. Bobby said we could stay until the next case or when we feel like we need to get going, apparently a bunch of demon activity has kicked up all over.” Sam said through a yawn as he turned on his side. He could just make out Dean in the dark, who must have fallen asleep, sprawled on his stomach.

The smell of fresh coffee woke Dean hours later. It was pretty light outside so he must have slept in. He could hear Sam and Bobby talking and laughing in the kitchen. “Morning.” He grumbled as he shuffled into the room. He took a seat next to you. After a quick glance he realised you were barely awake, curled up on one of the wooden dining chairs with your chin propped on your knee as you lazily shoved food into your mouth.

“I think I found a case not too far away. Only thirty minutes. I might go and check it out if you boys are up for it?” Bobby offered as he set a plate in front of Dean.

“I need to get those parts into the Impala but maybe Sammy will go with you?” Dean offered as he shoved a mouthful of pancake and bacon into his mouth.

“Sam! And yes, I can go with you. But Dean really needs to sort the car. If he hears that imaginary rattling again, he’ll go crazy.” Sam teased and Dean rolled his eyes.

“It’s not imaginary Sam! I hear it when we change gears and…”

“Maybe if you didn’t drive so fast it wouldn’t squeak.” Sam said playfully as he set his dishes in the sink. “You want to tag along, (Y/N)?”

“No, I’m going to sort the stuff in my room. Bunch of guns and some books. All my stuff is still boxed up.” You said through a yawn as you handed Bobby your empty plate.

“Well hey, if you want some help with the books before we get going, I can give you a hand?” Sam offered. Dean shot him a suspicious look and Sam shrugged. 

“Sure I guess. I can’t even read some of the titles.” You answered while standing up and stretching.

“So what’s the deal with them?” Dean asked as soon as you’d left the kitchen and headed up the stairs.

“(Y/N) lost their whole family.” Bobby explained briskly.

“Yeah, Sammy said. But the attitude?” Dean asked irritably and Bobby sighed.

“(Y/N)’s parents were good hunters, found a lot of stuff that’s helped a lot of hunters. The only person that they didn’t get one with was John after they had a falling out. Didn’t like how he was raising you two so they walked away. They only died two years ago, their grandparents were hunters and they had taken (Y/N) in for a year. They’re gone too. Went to stay with an uncle and. It’s just (Y/N). It’s not like hunters set up playdates for their kids. (Y/N) just has me and Rufus now.” Bobby explained bluntly. Dean sighed and frowned.

“Nice to know you weren’t the only one trying to get me to play baseball.” Dean muttered as he downed his water and left the table to head out to the Impala.

“It’s great that you took (Y/N) in Bobby. We appreciated it, when you did it for us.” Sam said awkwardly. Bobby nodded and muttered something under his breath.

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

“Hey, (Y/N)?” Sam asked as he knocked on your door. You opened it and Sam raised his eyebrows. “Wow, the book problem had gotten worse.”

“Yeah, hasn’t it. This room used to be nearly empty when it came to books.” You answered as you let him in. He chuckled as you led him to the largest pile of books that was more a wall than a pile. “You think you could help me move these downstairs. I figured I can organise the books and learn the phones for Bobby, since he’s taking me in.”

“Yeah. I can totally help you with that!” Sam said a little too eagerly. He winced. Bobby seemed to hope that you would hit it off with him and Dean. Sam knew what you were going through and had wanted to try and help, even if it was just hanging around with you. Bobby was right, even when he was hunting with Dean, hunting could get lonely. He couldn’t imagine how it must feel to have lost so much so quickly.

“Maybe if we just start with taking all the books to the living room, we could organise them by the area that the lore comes from… maybe?” 

“Sounds like a plan.” Sam said and you smiled, nodding as the two of you started shifting books. By the time half of the books had been moved, you were opening up to Sama  little more. Swapping hunt stories seemed to be the ticket to getting you to talk. Once he’d cracked you, it didn’t stop.

“Sam you ready?” Bobby asked as you and Sam carried down another load of books. He glanced at you and you nodded.

“I’m good. Sam figured a way to categorize so I should be able to finish sorting the books in my room by myself.” You insisted and smiled at Bobby who looked a bit relieved that you’d taken to Sam.

“Dean will be here manning the phones, looks like it should be a quick hunt, a day or too.” Bobby explained and you nodded.

“You can call if you need us.” You answered cheerfully as you playfully punched Sam’s arm before turning back to the latest, muddled, pile of books.

[miraculous786]

Hello, congratulations in reaching 900.

How about big brother Tim, I mean everybody knows the tropes of big bro Jason, but I imagine Tim and Marinette when they were kids or in a business trip and meeting again when Bruce brings her one day to the Manor and tell them she is their new little sis and everyone gets crazy minus Tim that is already used to it.

P.S: Love your work.

~*~*~

Note: Thank you! And you’re right about the trope of ‘Big Bro Jason’ - we need more ‘Big (or Small) Bro Tim’!

Masterlist

I Expected Business, Not…Babies?

“And here I thought I’d be able to finish my work here,” Tim grumbled, ducking down and turning into an alley. “Guess not.”

The young man sighed, leaning his head on the wall behind him. He pulled out his phone, and began to research certain information on the internet. Meanwhile, explosions and shouts echoed above and around him.

There was around a minute of him staying silent, until he hummed. “Ladybug and Chat Noir, heroes of Paris, fight someone named Hawk Moth-” he let out a tired sigh, “-have been for over two years, this is an akuma, yada, yada, yada…”

Tim’s eyes scanned across his device’s screen for another few seconds, until he swiped down and pressed on the app for his camera. He clicked the recording button.

“Bruce would probably freak if I didn’t get a video…” he muttered, soon after stepping out into the morning light showering the ground.

On a rooftop nearby, there were several crashes and bangs, followed by a body being thrown into a building across the street. Cracks spread along the brick it was tossed at, and the unknown groaned in pain.

From where their attacker was, a figure stalked out. “Paris! I am the Youngster, and you will all feel my wrath for daring to make fun of my childish spirit!”

The villain - a female - floated up into the air, and proceeded to shoot rays of energy at unsuspecting people around. As soon as one made contact made with someone’s skin, they were enveloped by a blinding flash of blue, before leaving behind a shorter version of themselves.

No, Tim realised when a moment passed. Younger.

He quickly crouched down when the akuma turned her head his way. Then, he waited with baited breath for her to focus her attention elsewhere.

She finally seemed to when a distinctly male voice called from afar, “M'Lady! Are you okay?”

“Guessing that’s Chat Noir,” Tim mumbled aloud. “And the one chucked like a rag doll was Ladybug.”

He poked his head out from the car he was behind, and, after deeming it safe enough, walked out with his phone in hand. Blue eyes narrowed at the structures above, where three individuals fought each other in a heated battle.

~*~*~

“ALFRED!”

“I assure that you do not need to shout, Master Tim. I have already answered the call.”

“Sorry, I, I just…can I have some help?”

Tim moved the phone back, revealing what he was holding in his right arm. A toddler, by the looks of it, who was sleeping peacefully with her head leaning on the man’s chest.

Alfred schooled his expression, merely raising a brow at the camera.

“Master Tim, am I correct in saying that you were in Paris only for business?”

“Yes, but it turns out that there’s some man using magic to terrorise the people here. Apparently, he’s after something called the ‘miraculous’ - and he uses one of them himself to turn people into villains to do the work for him.”

The butler froze minutely at the mention of the sacred jewellery.

“And who would that girl be that you happen to have, Master Tim?”

He turned his head to the child in his grip, and responded, “Ladybug, one of the heroes here. The ‘akuma’ running rampant right now has the power to make people younger.”

“I assume you want me to call Master Bruce?”

“No, no,” Tim denied, shaking his head. “I just wanted to ask for some advice on how to look after a child well. I tried to call Dick, but he wouldn’t answer his phone.”

There was an explosion in the background, causing him to jump and almost drop his phone. Figures in orange and green sprinted past from just outside the balcony of his hotel room.

“First, Master Tim, I suggest that you close all doors and windows to keep Ladybug peaceful and asleep.”

“Oh, crap. Probably should have thought of tha-”

The CEO was cut off by a whine from where his chest was, and glanced down to see Marinette wiggling about in his hold. He yelped when she almost escaped, as he noted that her destination after would have been on the floor.

He placed his phone to the side.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay,” Tim soothed, rocking her slightly back and forth. “Shhh, don’t worry.”

The cries she let out lessened after a minute, and she soon gazed up at him with shiny, watering eyes.

“Bwuda?” her tiny voice asked in a wobbly tone.

“W-What? I-I’m not-”

Her lower lip started to tremble.

Tim resigned to his fate with a sigh. “Yes. Brother.”

Marinette giggled, attempting to hug him with her short arms. Her tiny teeth showed in her wide grin. She ceased struggling from him.

The girl then kept repeating, “Bwuda!” whilst jumping about giddily in his grip.

Though he tried to fight it off, he couldn’t help the smile that he adorned on his features, as he nodded along to her chant.

Unaware of Alfred still listening in.

Or the cat-themed hero frantically trying to search for his partner right outside by shouting out her name.

~*~*~

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet your new sister - Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

There was absolute silence for several moments, consisting of said girl and the Wayne family regarding each other.

Then, everything became a ruckus. Three of the males present began to talk over each other loudly, with either annoyed or excited looks on their faces. Cass and Tim remained quiet, along with Alfred.

Marinette flickered her wide eyes between them all, whilst inching a few feet back.

“That’s enough, boys.”

At Bruce’s statement, they froze in what they were doing, and turned to the woman at the side. She was now shuffling on her feet and twiddling with her fingers from anxiety.

Dick spoke first, kindly saying, “Hi, I’m Richard - or Dick - and this is Jason and Damian.”

He pointed to them accordingly.

“Over there is our awesome sister Cass and-”

“Tim.”

Even Bruce was surprised by her strong tone, and the fact that she already knew his name.

A smile tugged at her lips, as she made her way over to the smirking man. He embraced her tightly, ignoring the shocked looks he earned from the action.

After finishing the hug, Marinette walked to Alfred, and giggled, “It’s great to finally meet you in person.”

She tilted her head to Cass.

“And you too.”

The dark-haired female nodded, communicating that she felt the same.

“Wait, wait, wait, how do you know Timbers already?” Jason broke in, asking the question that most there wanted the answer to.

“Oh! Well, he’s my-”

“Brother,” Tim replied for her. “…And I’ve already called dibs.”

“What?” Bruce quizzed. “When?”

“Hmm…two years ago, if I’m right. When Marinette here turned into a kid.”

“Hey! I thought we’d never mention that ever again!”

“Welp, you thought wrong, Sis.”

The designer groaned, burying her head in her hands.

“…You’re French, aren’t you? I can tell with the accent,” Dick input. “And didn’t Tim go on a business trip to Paris that long ago?”

“Yes, Dick. I did.”

“So, how did she turn into a kid?” Jason marvelled.

“It…It’s a long story,” Marinette summarised, visibly wincing. She took a glance down to her purse. “You might wanna sit down for a bit.”

~*~*~

@northernbluetongue @moonystars14 @soupfilledboots @virgil-is-a-cutie​

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Won’t You Stay (Part 16)

Summary: The movie has wrapped and is in post-production phase now. With a bit more free time, the reader and Jensen’s parents meet for the first time in Texas...

Masterlist

Square: Mirror Sex

Pairing: Jensen x Director!reader

Word Count: 4,000ish

Warnings: mature (language, anxiety, smut (protected sex, mirror sex))

A/N: Please enjoy! Also written for @spnkinkbingo​​

_____

Three Months Later

“Y/N, would you calm down. You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor,” said your mom as she moved about the kitchen. You whined and paced back over to the front room, glancing out the window. “Ethan. She’s doing it again.”

“Sweetie,” called your dad, popping up from the family room and walking around the corner to you. “They are the Ackles, not a pack of wolves.”

“I just really want this to go well,” you said. “They should have been here by now. Waco isn’t that far a drive from Dallas. Maybe they got screwed up with their hotel or something.”

“We told ‘em they could stay here. No use in having a guest room if the guests don’t use them,” said your dad. You looked over at him slowly, rolling your eyes. “That was a good one. I give it a 9.5.”

“Dad! My boyfriend’s family is not staying over our house! What were you thinking? What if they hate you! Or mom! I can’t believe you.”

“Direct a multi million dollar movie? She’s fine. Introduce her parents to her boyfriend’s parents? Apparently it’s the end of time as we know it.”

“Dad,” you groaned, your mom slipping away from the kitchen over to you. “Mom, why would you let him do this?”

“Why are you so nervous? We love Jensen and I’m sure we will love his family too,” she said. 

“Cause what if you guys don’t like each other?” you said.

“If we don’t, then we don’t. It doesn’t affect you and Jensen though, kiddo. Relax,” he said. He rubbed your shoulders and you sighed. “Now go finish setting the table.”

“I already did that,” you said.

“Don’t worry,” said your mom, giving you a peck on the cheek. “They’ll be here real soon.”

You threw your head back and walked away, your parents laughing to themselves as you wandered out the front door and under the front porch. It was a very different style home than the house in LA. That was a massive mansion with beams and dark wood and looked grand. The Waco vacation house though, that was something more like you wanted for yourself someday. It was nice and updated but it was still just a house. A large one but nothing like in LA. 

You remembered picking it out with your dad when you were about five years old. The house didn’t interest you too much but there was a swing on the tree in the backyard that you absolutely fell in love with.

You smiled as you saw a car pull in at the end of the driveway. It wasn’t like you were meeting his parents for the first time. Maybe it was the second time but things would turn out okay. They always did with Jensen.

“Hey,” said Jensen, ducking out of the backseat when the car parked near the garage.

“Howdy partner,” you said, Jensen’s parents and sister getting out as well. “Hi.”

“Nice to see you again, sweetie,” said his mom as you walked over to help with the bags. She gave you a hug and you got a nod from his sister.

“How’s the semester going?” you asked.

“Probably flunked my biology midterm but otherwise awesome,” she said. Jensen rolled his eyes behind her back and she scoffed. “Oh shut up Jenny.”

“Alright, nerd. Most people don’t consider an A- flunking by the way,” he said, handing you over a few bags. “Mac, get your stuff.”

“Are you ever going to relax?” she asked, rolling her eyes as she pulled out a duffel bag. “I cannot believe you date him.”

“He has his moments,” you said. “You may need to end up bunking with my little sister if that’s alright.”

“Ella and Anthony aren’t too much younger than you. I’m sure you three will all get along and find ways to annoy us,” said Jensen.

“Don’t challenge me, Jensen,” she said.

“Behave. You’re a guest,” said his father. He looked at you and nodded before heading towards the front door. 

“He likes you,” said Jensen. 

“He does not,” you said quietly. “He thinks I’m some stupid actor’s stupid daughter.”

“No, he doesn’t,” said Jensen. “I promise. I was super nervous around your dad at first and now we’re good friends.”

“You were also coworkers. Oh God this was a mistake,” you said. 

“Hey, honey. If it is, I promise we can runaway and stay in a hotel room for the weekend, okay?” he said. He kissed your temple and you nodded, helping carry some bags over to the front door where his family was waiting.

“Guys, they’re here,” you called, stepping inside and leading the way for them.

“Hi!” said your mom, coming around the corner from the kitchen quickly. “I’m Dani, Y/N’s mom.”

“You look like her older sister,” mumbled Mackenzie. Jensen elbowed her in the ribs and shot her a dirty look. 

“Ah. Yours are like ours I see,” said your mom.

“You should see them when the oldest is with them,” said Jensen’s mom. She gave your mom a hug, Jensen’s dad giving her a friendly smile. “This is Alan. I’m Donna and this is our youngest Mackenzie.”

“Hi,” said your mom, your dad walking in with your siblings in tow. “This is-“

“He’s the guy!” said Mac, whacking Jensen on the arm. “That guy that’s in that movie you were obsessed with when I was little.”

“Aw, I’m flattered Jensen,” teased Ethan.

“I hate you, Mac,” said Jensen, your dad chuckling.

“Well I’m Ethan and these are our other kiddos, Anthony and then Ella,” he said.

“You’re kinda young if you don’t mind me saying. Sport,” said Alan. You cocked your head, your dad smirking. 

“I always knew that Jensen looked familiar but could never quite figure it out. Alan Ackles. You scared the crap out of me that day,” he said.

“You gotta tease the rookies. I hear Jensen’s gotten plenty of that,” he said.

“Um, do you two know each other?” you asked.

“Not really but we worked together once, way back on a local commercial in Dallas. It was my very first acting job before I moved to LA. I must have been seventeen years old,” said your dad, shaking Alan’s hand.

“I wasn’t that old, probably the kids age or just a hair older,” he said. “Obviously that acting thing worked out for you.”

“Eh, just a little,” said your dad. “Come in. Y/N, bring the bags up to the guest room.”

“And you thought they wouldn’t like each other,” hummed Jensen as your parents headed off together.

“You did too!” you said. You spun around and Jensen’s sister was staring at him, your siblings doing the same. “Why don’t you guys hang out with Mac while we bring this stuff up? Maybe show her around.”

You left before they could say anything, urging Jensen to follow you. 

“I totally was not expecting this,” said Jensen. “It’s so different than your parents house.”

“Truth be told I think we all prefer this one,” you said. “But you know, gotta have the house if you’re Ethan Y/L/N.”

“I can’t believe our dads worked together, even if just for a day once,” he said.

“Maybe this was meant to be,” you said. Jensen grabbed your waist and kissed you, making you giggle and nearly fall backwards. 

“I think we both know the answer to that,” he said, grabbing you tight. “Falling for me again?”

“Such a loser,” you said, popping into a bedroom and setting down most of the bags. You walked farther down the hall and set Mackenzie’s down in Ella’s before pulling Jensen to the end and into your own.

“Wow,” he said, dropping his bag by the door as he stepped inside. “I gotta admit, I think you got the best bedroom.”

“First dibs has its perks,” you said. Jensen walked over to the window, staring out at the rolling wheat field far out behind the house and trees. 

“Sometimes I really forget how you grew up.”

“Money isn’t everything. Ask my dad and you know he’d give all of this up in a heartbeat to have not have gone through what he did. What I did. What everyone did with the car accident,” you said. You stopped beside him, Jensen lacing your fingers together. 

“Y/N. I don’t mean the bedroom or the houses. I know you didn’t get what most of us do but your dad did a good job of trying to give that to you, a normal life,” he said. “Also, you have a Nintendo 64 over there that we are totally taking home with us.”

“We’ll have to see if we can sneak it out,” you said, resting your head against his shoulder. “Your parents don’t know that my mom isn’t my birth mom, do they.”

“If they have a problem with your family, I think they’re just going to have to get over it,” he said. “Why’re you so scared, Y/N? I get being nervous and wanting everyone to get along. I’m exactly that way right now too.”

“Because if there was a problem, I would never want anything to come between you and your family. I would never ask you to pick me over them,” you said.

“Y/N.”

“Because you make me happy,” you said, lifting your head to look at him, cautious green eyes looking back. “I think it would rip me apart for good if I screwed this up.”

“I love my family Y/N. I love your family. But if they ever put me in a position to choose them or you, then they aren’t the people I love. Where’s this really coming from?” he asked.

“My parents got along really well with Logan’s,” you said quietly. “They all clicked instantly. Your dad doesn’t...I don’t think he approves of me but he’s too polite to say it.”

“You are by and far the best girlfriend I’ve introduced to them. Pretty. Smart. Badass. Did I mention pretty?” he said, kissing your cheek. “You met them for three hours once when he had a cold. You are worrying over nothing. I promise.”

“Well those three seem to be thick as thieves,” said your mom as she came outside to the back patio after dinner, carrying a few drinks. You glanced inside to the kitchen, your brother and sister chatting up a storm with Mackenzie at the counter.

“To think she didn’t even want to come,” said Donna. You watched your dad put another log on the fire, your mom handing you a beer. You nodded and took a sip, Jensen rubbing his hand up and down your back. “Everything alright, Y/N? You’ve been quiet tonight.”

“Probably just jet lagged,” said your dad. “Kiddo’s been working on editing like crazy lately now that we’re wrapped.”

“What are you doing in the meantime Jensen?” asked his dad.

“Kind of relaxing. Trying to learn how to cook. I can only make chicken casserole for Y/N so many times,” said Jensen with a smile.

“It’s yummy,” you said, taking another sip.

“The movie comes out in about six months. We can be sure to snag you guys some tickets for the premiere,” said your dad. 

“Jensen already invited us but unfortunately that’s exactly when we’re supposed to be on a cruise for a few weeks. He wouldn’t let us skip for it,” said Donna.

“Eh, you guys can come to the next one,” said Jensen. “We’re set to start the second movie not long after the first comes out.”

“I just picked up the prequel book. Oh, I feel so sorry for poor Lyle,” she said. “Do you mind if I ask how you came up with him, Y/N?”

“Overactive imagination,” you said with a smile. 

“It was good,” said Alan, your head turning towards him. “The first book. I liked it.”

“Thanks,” you said, Jensen giving you a smirk.

“You know what we need? S’mores,” said your mom. “Jay. Hm?”

“Sure thing, Dani,” said Jensen, standing and heading back inside with her. Donna got up to help and soon it was quiet with just the three of you out there, your dad glancing to you.

“You know Dani isn’t Y/N’s biological mother,” said your dad. 

“I didn’t realize you were married before,” said Alan.

“I wasn’t. Y/N wasn’t exactly planned. Her birth mother died in a car accident and they had to deliver early,” said your dad. You stared at him, your dad ignoring it. “I was only eighteen when this happened. I know we’re a little younger than you probably were anticipating.”

“She seemed to turn out just fine,” he said. “Jensen never shuts up about her.”

You gripped your bottle, your dad biting his bottom lip.

“I see where she gets it from,” chuckled Alan. “The both of you are so nervous around me for some reason.”

“I think your son is very important to my daughter,” said your dad.

“I think your daughter is very important to my son. Not sure what the issue is there,” said Alan.

“There’s not an issue,” you said. You stood up and walked away, over to the pool before sticking your feet in the warm water.

You felt a presence behind you and sighed.

“Dad-“

“Not your dad, kid,” said Alan, taking a seat beside you. You watched the water while he rolled up his pants and stuck his feet in, a quiet sound leaving him. “I will admit I was a bit grumpy last month when we met. It had nothing to do with you, Y/N.”

“Why do I feel like you don’t like me then?”

“Maybe because you’re like Jensen in a way, which explains why you fit together so well. Maybe it’s why this seems strange, because part of him is like me too,” he said.

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“Honestly, maybe it’s because my son seems like himself again and we couldn’t do that. Your family did. Maybe I’m a little jealous of that,” he said. 

“My family didn’t do anything.”

“You did.”

You shrugged and took a sip of your beer, his dad smiling.

“Jay ever tell you he wants to try making beer sometime?”

“Once. Told me you nearly tore him out a new one when he tried it in your backyard,” you said.

“Yeah, well. Parents aren’t perfect,” he said. “Maybe we don’t have the opportunity to get to know each other like Jensen did with your family but we do want to know you. We don’t disapprove by the way.”

You turned your head and he shrugged.

“Jensen worries.”

“I’ve noticed,” you said. “This is going to sound a certain way so don’t take it that way please. I just-“

“You don’t have to justify the way you feel,” he said. You nodded, wiggling your toes in the water. “He loves you and we will too. Give me some time is all.”

“I can understand why he is the way he is,” you said with a smile.

“A dork?” he teased. “He gets that from his mom.”

“Sure he does,” you said. He bumped your shoulder and you gave him a smile. “The whole single dad, accident baby doesn’t bother you?”

“Don’t ever refer to yourself as an accident. Also, no it doesn’t. Is it unconventional? Yes. But all I care about is that my children are happy. So don’t worry about the other stuff, alright?” 

“I’ll try,” you said. It was quiet for a moment, his dad sitting back.

“You know he calls once a week to check in. He spends most of that time talking about you,” he said. “It’s pretty adorable to be honest. Turns into a little boy all over again.”

“He is pretty adorable,” you said.

“Well I know you are incredibly busy at the moment but some quiet weekend, come visit. We’d like it,” he said.

“We will,” you said. There was a rustling behind you and you looked up, Jensen carrying a plate with two s’mores on it.

“You guys want some?” he asked, mouthful of his own.

“Sure,” you said. You took a bite and gave him a thumbs up.

“Everything good?”

“Yeah,” said his dad. “I think we’re all good now.”

“Good morning,” you said, smiling as your parents headed into the kitchen. Your mom raised an eyebrow as your dad took a cup of coffee Jensen handed him. “What?”

“She’s awake. Before us. I don’t think she’s ever willingly done that,” she said. Your dad put a hand on your head and you swatted it away.

“I don’t feel a fever,” he said.

“We wanted to be kind children and make our parents breakfast,” said Jensen over his shoulder as he got out some butter.

“Ah. I see they’ve forgotten we’re going to brunch later,” said your mom. You threw your head back and put the eggs back in the fridge.

“Going back to bed?” asked your dad.

“Yup,” you said, grabbing Jensen’s hand and pulling him upstairs with you. He yawned as you wandered back to your bedroom, smiling when you fell back on the mattress. “More sleep. My favorite.”

“Or we could have morning sex and then go back to bed,” he murmured. “Both your favorites.”

“You want to do it with both our parents in the house? Jensen Ackles. I didn’t realize you were such a bad boy,” you said, rolling over onto your back.

“Only for you,” he teased, locking your bedroom door. 

“You have a streak hidden in you. Don’t deny it,” you said.

“Oh, I’m not,” he said, rolling back onto the bed, sliding his hand up your shirt. “I even came prepared.”

“That’s my boy,” you said, stretching your arms up, letting him push the shirt off of you. 

“You get rid of those pesky clothes and I’ll be right back.”

He kissed your cheek and hopped up, going to his bag and digging around. You were lazy in taking off your shorts and underwear, tossing your bra on the floor in time for him to come back with nothing but a condom on.

“I would like to try something if you’re up for it,” he said. You sat up with a sleepy smile and nodded. He gave you a lazy kiss before he sat back down, grabbing your waist and pulling you around to the middle of the bed, settling in behind you. 

“What are you up to?” you asked.

“Your dresser here has a mirror,” he said, your eyes flickering across to the other side of the room. You saw yourself naked, Jensen snaking a hand down to your folds and slowly rubbing you. “I want you to see how absolutely fucking hot you are when you get fucked.”

“Jay,” you said, turning your head away.

“Please?” he hummed. 

“I’m not going to get in the mood by looking at myself.”

“Looking at you naked gets me in the mood all the time,” he said, kissing your neck. You rolled your eyes but looked ahead, watching his free arm cross your waist and press you back against his chest. His arm’s looked larger than normal and you noticed the muscles flexing in his shoulders, the strong thighs that were moving the two of you to sit up. You sat back on your heels, Jensen rutting his cock against your back before pulling you up and settling you over his cock. You lowered yourself down, fluttering your eyes shut.

He snapped his hips back and rocked into you, eyes flashing open and catching his own in the mirror behind you. In the mirror, you started to ride him, Jensen meeting you with every roll of your hips. 

“Look at my cock, fuck looks like it barely fits,” said Jensen. Your eyes went down and you watched yourself lift up him, nearly all the way before slamming down. 

“Okay. That is pretty hot,” you said, Jensen chuckling as he kissed your jaw. “Fuck. You’re so fucking strong. Shit, Jay.”

“Feels like you’re milking my cock. How are you so tight?” he panted against your skin, warm air hitting your face.

“Because of your big cock,” you whispered, moving your arms behind you to hold onto him, Jensen plowing in harder. You’d never noticed how your own body bowed and arched before, never noticed muscles in your thighs working hard, never noticed the light blush that covered your skin as you got closer to an orgasm. “Harder.”

He tightened his grip and rubbed over your clit, fucking up into you, nailing your g-spot.

You grabbed his ass and he did it again, your head knocking back onto his shoulder. Your whole body tensed as you came, your face soft as you bit your bottom lip, Jensen growling into your neck to hide his grunts as he followed quickly after. With a quiet laugh you let go of him, Jensen pulling you to fall back straight on his chest, rolling you to his side.

“The only thing that could have made that better was seeing your ass too,” you said.

“You can look at my ass anytime you want,” he said, shakily getting to his feet and tossing the condom in the trashcan. 

“Uh oh,” you giggled, spotting the red marks covering the small of his back and his creamy cheeks. “I think I might have given you a few new bruises.”

“Please mark me up,” he hummed, sliding back into bed under the covers, laying his arm over your waist. “Makes me feel like yours.”

“God you are too attractive,” you said, kissing his nose, Jensen nuzzling closer. “Love you.”

“Love you too, honey,” he said. You shut your eyes, ready to fall back asleep when your phone buzzed, a text from AJ coming in. “Work again?”

“Premiere date got moved up a week,” you said, tossing the phone back down. “No big deal.”

“I can’t wait to walk down a red carpet with the hottest director, writer, actor there ever was and know that she picked me,” he said. 

“I would prefer not to go,” you said. Jensen nipped at your bottom lip and you laughed. “But I’ll go as your date.”

“Score one for Ackles,” he said. You kissed him quickly, Jensen closing his eyes. “Sleep?”

“You read my mind, fan boy.”

______

A/N: Read Part 17 here!

[persephonesfill]

choke on me—chapter three

breathe me in (prequel fic)

chapter two

chapter four

a/n: no you did not read that wrong, this is chapter three. i’m not dead. 2020 did not kill me. this is a bit of a filler chapter but chapter four should be up before the month’s over. if not, yell at me, i won’t mind. 

rating: pretty gen this time but don’t worry chapter five is a goddamn trip

warning(s): n/a

—————

Despite being on opposite sides of the country, Tony and Pepper talk more often than people think. Pep’s an early riser, and Tony hasn’t gotten a good night’s sleep since he was born, so it balances out. 

“I should tell you to go to sleep,” Pepper says, sighing. “But I miss the sound of your voice too much.” She’s sitting at the island, a cup of coffee in hand. She had pulled her hair into a bun and still has her reading glasses on, the red ones that she hates because she thinks she looks like someone's grandmother.

Tony loves seeing her like this. Loose and comfortable with him. After they broke up, a part of him worried that things would be strained between them. He should have known that was impossible.

“I don’t know whether to be happy or insulted,” Tony says. 

“Both,” Pepper says. “Your sleeping habits are abysmal.” 

Tony shrugs and takes a sip of his own coffee. He had always had issues with sleep. He woke up frequently throughout the night and would only start feeling sleepy around two in the morning to the point where attempting to sleep at all felt like a waste of time. Give him a cup of coffee with four shots of espresso, and he'd be good to go.

“You can’t deny that I’m more productive, though,” he says. 

“Okay, you do work hard,” Pepper admits, pursing her lips. “But you work too hard. When’s the last time you had a day to yourself that you didn’t spend in your workshop?” 

Usually, Tony's quick with a quip, but Pepper's question makes him pause. Last week, Steve asked Tony if he wanted to join him on his run around Bryant Park, and what had Tony said? "No." Like an idiot. It's not that he hadn't wanted to go; it was just that between SI and Avengers business and—

Tony was making excuses. Even he could see that. Hook-ups? Hook-ups Tony could do, specialized in, even, but Steve's question had ventured dangerously into "date" territory. The last time Tony had tried to seriously date was when he was with Pepper, and that had been a piping hot mess in the end.

"Tony? Hello?  I swear to God if you've just been using your life model decoy on me, I'm going to fly directly to Manhattan just to—"

"What? No!" He says, raising his hands. Hell hath no fury like a Pepper scorned. "I'm here, in the flesh. I just got...distracted. I guess I haven't really taken a day for myself."

Pepper sets her mug down and levels him with a stern look that puts him in the mind of a school principal.

"Tony," she says in that way of hers that usually means she's worried about him, and Tony's heart twists. "Is everything okay?"

Tony's not a liar, but he does believe in omitting information. 

"Everything's as good as I can hope for, Pep. I'm going to therapy, and I'm still taking my meds. You know how it is," he says, shrugging. "Some days are better than others." 

Pepper nods, looking a little less concerned, which is all Tony can ask for. "And the others? They're not bothering you?" 

It takes him a second, but Tony realizes that she's talking about the Avengers. He shakes his head. "They're fine. It's...weird living with so many people," he says. Tony had lived alone for half of his life now, aside from that brief stint in Malibu with Pepper. "They leave coffee grounds in the sink, and last week, Romanov and Barton convinced JARVIS to play Iron Man every time I went into my workshop and—" 

"You like them, don't you?" Pepper says. It's not a question. 

He does like them. The entire time he had been complaining about them, he knew his face had been stretched into a grin. 

"Maybe so. It's refreshing having another scientist to go mad with," he says, smiling devilishly when Pepper pales. 

"Oh, God, you've corrupted Bruce. There's two of you now."

"Okay, I take offense to that," he interjects. "Bruce keeps me in line, promise.” 

“Give him my thanks,” Pepper says. "Is it just Bruce? What about the others? How do you feel about them?"

He speaks without thinking, something you'd think wouldn't happen so often to a literal genius. "Steve's been...Steve's been good." More than good, actually.

Pepper raises a brow. "It's Steve now? What happened to Rogers? Capsicle? Any other one of your incessant nicknames?" 

He's been caught. Lying isn't even an option; Pepper would sniff out the truth like a bloodhound. She was like Natasha in that way. If those two ever team up again, Tony feels sorry for whichever poor soul they set their sight on. 

His only choice is to play it cool. "First off, you know you love my nicknames, case in point, Pepper," he says, knowing damn well she hadn't gone by Virginia since she started working for him. "And…it's Steve now. He's not so bad when you get to know him."

Pepper looks unconvinced, but mercifully, she lets it go. "Hmm. You guys are friends now?"

No. Never. Not even close.

"What can I say?" Tony gives her his cheesiest grin. "I wore him down." 

She rolls her eyes, but it's all in good fun. "Well, then, I'm happy for you. You deserve all the love that comes your way." 

"Ugh, don't get all sappy on me," he jokes, even though his heart spasms in his chest. He doesn't love the Avengers, and he doesn't—

He doesn't love Steve either. 

And they don't love him back.

Pepper's eyes soften. "Tell you what," she begins, "since you're so adamant on working too hard to have some fun, how about I do it for you?" 

Tony latches onto the change of subject like the lifeline it is. "What do you have in mind?" 

"Carmen Solomita is doing a fundraiser event for A Helping Hand. Does that sound up your alley?"

Carmen Solomita was an old friend from his prep school years. A fellow gifted kid, and the daughter of the iconic Italian husband-wife fashion designer duo, Isabela and Marcello Solomita, it was a no brainer that Tony and Carmen would become friends. 

She had followed in her parents' footsteps, designing luxury clothes and even starting her own separate fashion house right here in Manhattan. 

“What’s she doing this year?” he asks. 

“She’s organizing a week-long carnival in upstate New York for local orphanages. Think you or any of the others would be interested in working a booth?” Pepper says. “Having all of the Avengers show up would drum up a lot of publicity.” 

Tony furrows his brows. A carnival does sound fun, and he has no problems with running a booth. It’s the others that are a problem. 

“Don’t you think six, let alone one Avenger, would take away from the cause? And that’s if they even agree to it.” 

Pepper raises her hands. “Just throwing it out there. Again, you need a break. And think of the kids when they see your faces.” 

Tony’s face wrinkles. So, maybe, he has a soft spot for orphans. He still can’t help but feel like Pepper has some ulterior motive. 

“I’ll ask,” Tony says, caving. “And if they say no, I’m not forcing them to go. Tell Carmen she’s getting one Avenger, at the least.” 

“Yes! I knew you’d come around.” 

“I hate you.” 

“Love you too, Tony.”

***********

Tony broaches the topic of Carmen’s carnival at dinner and immediately braces himself for the worst. He’s not a pessimist by any means, but he sure as hell doesn’t expect the best from people whenever he asks them for a favor. 

There’s a pause as they take the time to ponder over what he said, long enough to make Tony squirm. 

God, why did he even ask? He should have just told Pepper that the others were all unavailable or—

“What kind of carnival?” Clint asks, breaking Tony out of his reverie. 

"I'm sorry," Tony blinks. "Are you actually considering this?" 

Clint shrugs. "What's not to like? Just want to know what we'd be doing." 

"Um, okay," Tony says. He's never, never been at a loss for words in his life, and yet...

"We'd just be running booths, meet and greets, that sort of stuff.  Nothing too crazy," Tony says. Pretty run of the mill stuff for a fundraising event.  

"And the charity, A Helping Hand, was it?" Natasha says. "One of yours?"

"No," he replies. "Carmen Solomita's. She's big on philanthropy, always trying to help out in some way or another. She's always been like that."

"Solomita?" Natasha asks. "Fashion designer Carmen Solomita?" 

"That's the one," he says, some of his initial anxiety ebbing away. They weren't saying no. Not yet. Or maybe they were just trying to let him down gently. 

"She an old flame of yours?" Clint says, and Tony tries to ignore how quickly Steve's head turns to look at him. 

"No," Tony says immediately, putting an end to any questions before they can begin. "We've been friends since high school. It'd be like dating my sister." Not to mention Carmen had known him when he had still been under five feet and had a mouth full of metal. Any attraction on her part had either never existed or died as soon as Tony had opened his mouth.

"Hm," Natasha says. Tony's still learning how to speak Natasha fluently, but it's apparently enough for Clint. 

"Alright, I'm in," he says. "Dibs on the sharpshooting booth."

"You can't call dibs on a booth," Natasha says, rolling her eyes. "And it's mine." 

"I'll arm wrestle you for it."

"No," Tony says, pointing a finger at them. "The last time you two arm-wrestled at this table, you split it in half. You'll be assigned whatever booth is available."

Clint grumbles something under his breath, and Tony closes his eyes. 

"I think you annoyed Mom," Natasha whispers, and really, for a spy, she sucks at being quiet. 

But if he was mom, who was dad?

"Enough, you guys," Steve says, backing him up. "Stop messing around." 

"Thank you," Tony says, massaging his temple, trying to stop his stress headache before it begins."It's like having children." 

"Am I your favorite?" Clint asks with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

"No, it's Bruce," he answers immediately, his voice deadpan. 

"...You answered that insultingly fast." 

"You asked," Tony says. "Speaking of Bruce, Brucie, you've been quieter than normal. What's going on in that brilliant head of yours?"

Tony doesn't want to put him on the spot, but he knows Bruce will just try his best to brush his problems under the rug. 

Bruce is staring down at his plate, poking absentmindedly at his pasta with his fork. "I don't think I should go," he says. 

"And why not?" Thor, of all people, asks. The god levels Bruce with a heavy stare. "You deserve to amuse yourself like the rest of us."

"Is that a joke?" Bruce says, throwing his fork down, sending it clattering against his plate. "Do you really think unleashing a big green rage monster at a carnival with children present is a bright idea?" 

"Where's this monster you speak of?" Thor says. "I don't see one."

"Come on," Bruce mutters. 

"I don't see one, either," Tony says. "I see a genius nuclear physicist who moonlights as an equally amazing superhero." 

"And I see a kind, honest man who would never harm anyone intentionally," Steve says, jumping in. 

Bruce purses his lips but based on the flush spreading across his face, Tony can tell they're wearing him down. 

Oddly enough, it's Natasha who reels him in. "I've seen a lot of monsters in my life, Banner. You're not one of them." 

Bruce chuckles, but it's not a happy sound. Tony's familiar with it enough to know that it's chock full of bitterness. 

"I'll be there with you," Thor says, his voice a soft timber. "I won't let anything happen to you. None of us will."

"...It's not me you should be worrying about," Bruce says. "But...if you're going...I guess it'll be fine." 

Thor smiles, looking every inch the god he is. "We'll have a grand time, Doctor Banner."

Dinner ends quickly after that, the others petering off until it's just Steve and Tony left sitting at the table. 

Tony's glad the Avengers are helping him out, honestly. It's just...the thought of six Avengers...around young, impressionable children…

"Oh, God," he says aloud, burying his face into his hands. 

He can hear Steve stand up, rounding up the dishes left behind. "It's not going to be that bad," he says. 

"We don't know that," Tony says, his voice muffled. He looks up to see Steve raising a judgmental brow at him. "I'm letting not one, but two master assassins, the Hulk, and a fucking god, interact with children." 

"They'll be on their best behavior," Steve says. "Thor said he'll keep an eye on Bruce, and I know for a fact that wherever Clint goes, Natasha's gonna follow and vice versa."

"And that doesn't worry you?"

"No, because I actually have faith in our teammates. Clint's not gonna peg a kid with an arrow just because he feels like it. He's not the type."

Tony sighs but damn it, Steve's right. He's always right. Tony doesn't know much about Clint's life before SHIELD and the Avengers, but he knows it wasn't pretty. Seemed to be a common theme amongst their little team. 

"Must have a shitty parental figure in order to be a superhero," he thinks to himself. 

He rises out of his seat and grabs the few dishes that remain. Tony helps Steve load up the dishwasher. He tries not to think about how domestic it all feels, how it's practically become routine for Tony and Steve to look after the others and put away their dishes. He doesn't know what it means, but he has the strangest feeling that Pepper is smiling to herself halfway across the country.

***********

Carmen's beyond delighted when Tony gives her the good news over the phone the next day. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Her voice still does that weird squeaky thing when she gets really excited. 

"One more thank you, and you're going to rupture my eardrum," he says, holding his phone to his ear. He's making breakfast, which for him consists of swiping a yogurt cup and spoon from the kitchen. 

"I'll stop shouting," she says, which is a complete lie. "I just can't believe the Avengers are going to be at my fundraiser!" Case in point. 

There's still that gnawing pit in his stomach at the thought of the Avengers running rampant around a carnival, but they could use the publicity. Maybe it'd calm down some of those Daily Bugle conspiracy theorists who thought that the Avengers were Chitauri shapeshifters who actually started the invasion. Tony has a video of J. Jonah Jameson screaming about it saved to his phone whenever he needs a good laugh. 

"I know, I'm amazing," Tony says around a mouthful of yogurt. 

"You are, and I will literally owe you for the rest of my life," she replies. 

"I want your firstborn child," Tony says.

"Done," Carmen says without missing a beat. "That's how serious I am." 

He can't help but chuckle to himself. Talking to Carmen was always so fun. She had the same (admittedly dorky) sense of humor as him. He remembered the days when they sit in the back of their homeroom, laughing at each other's stupid jokes over the morning announcements while their teacher gave them death glares. They kept in touch after graduation but not enough for Tony's tastes. 

"But seriously, how does it feel to be a superhero? You guys all live together, don't you? Oh my God, you're just like firefighters. Do you have a little pole you slide down when there's an emergency? Ooh, is there an alarm—"

"Carmen, cool it before you pop a blood vessel," he says, mentally filing away the idea to add a pole leading directly to the tower's hangar. "And I promise you can grill them when you see them at the carnival." 

"I'm holding you to that, Stark."

"Figured you would." 

"Smart boy," Carmen says. "Any questions, comments, or concerns you want to pass along?"

"Actually," Tony begins, his brain chugging along at its usual speed of light. "I have some requests…"

Two weeks later, the look on everyone else's face when Tony presents them with the matching t-shirts he designed is more than worth the hour of alone time he promised her with Natasha. 

“She’s so mysterious,” Carmen had said over the phone. “Tony, I need to see if she’s as calculating as she comes off.” 

“Why,” he had said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why would you do that?” 

“Because I’m bisexual and have no sense of self-preservation. It’s why we’re friends,” she had chirped. 

He didn't blame her, though. Had he not jumped at every chance to hook up with Steve like his teenage self would have wanted? 

"Is this another one of your strange Midgardian customs?" Thor says, holding the t-shirt out in front of him. They're done up in his signature hotshot red, of course with Carmen's charity, A Helping Hand on the front, but the back is the real masterpiece. Under the words, Super Helper was a personalized emblem meant to represent each one of the Avengers. Mjolnir for Thor, Cap's Shield for Steve, a bow and arrow for Clint, and so on so forth. 

"...Is it weird that I kind of actually like these?" Clint whispers to Natasha, who's tracing the lines of her hourglass on her shirt. 

"You would like them," she says. 

Tony blinks. "I can...get us normal shirts?" 

"Nope, too late," Clint says, shrugging his shirt on over the long sleeve he had been wearing. "I've already grown attached.” 

Tony looks at each of them head-on, noting the way Natasha’s slender fingers dance over the cotton and Thor’s curious gaze as he inspects the true to life runes Tony had painstakingly copied from the real-life Mjolnir. Bruce looks at the fist clutching the beaker on his shirt like it holds all the secrets to the universe, and Steve—Steve’s not looking at the shirt at all. He’s looking at Tony. Of course, he is. 

Tony's always liked puzzles, and right now, the biggest puzzle of them all is what exactly made Steve's face go slack, his eyes all clear and soft and staring directly at him. 

Tony shakes his head, clearing his head of puzzles and Steve and piercing stares. 

"So," Tony says, "we're good to go?" 

Later on, when they're all piled into Tony's limo like they're going on a field trip, Steve texts him even though they're sitting right next to each other. 

It's just four words, but it's enough to make Tony blush. He facepalms, under the pretense of annoyance at something one of the others had said. 

"I'm proud of you," follows him all the way to upstate New York.

[thewalkingfanfictions]

Impromptu Cuddles (part three)

“Imagine having to share a room with Spencer during a case, only to wake up wrapped in his arms.”

~IMPROMPTU CUDDLES~

Part One Part Two

Description: During a case, Spencer and the reader are forced to share a room with only one bed. Cute fluffy shit happens.

Warning: Mentions of a really bloody case, probably some cuss words. Unless repressed romantic feelings are a problem for you, then nothing else, I don't think.

Genre: fluffy fluff with a tiny bit of angst if you squint your eyes and tilt your head exactly fourteen degrees to the left.

Pairing: Dr. Spencer Reid (Criminal Minds) x non gender specific Reader

A/N: last chapter!! Most of this is in Spencer's POV again, but there's a tiny bit if the readers POV at the end. Image is still not mine, credit to whoever made it.

Words without A/N: 2303 

Masterlist

<—————————————>

"Nope, sorry, all full," this second voice was a bit higher pitched, however, still distinctly masculine.

"I don't think you realize, we are federal agents, we've been cha—"

My mind faded away from the conversation, instead choosing to focus on the stunning person beside me once again. I stared down at them unabashedly, taking in all of their unintentional beauty.

"—have to... have to double up?" The boys voice came back into focus just before (name) looked up at me, a questionable look on their face. Instead of looking away as per usual, I simply followed along and creased my eyebrows together in question as though I had some idea as to what was going on.

We began to move into the room that held everybody, glancing around to take in the angry and tired looks on everyone's faces before looking back down to study (name)'s breathtaking features. Taking in the shine in their hair and the glow in their heavy eyes, the quiver in their lip as they suppressed a yawn.

As I watched them, they slowly began to tilt towards me, leaning their body weight into my shoulder. As much as I usually became uncomfortable with contact with other people, I most definitely enjoyed the feeling of them pressed against me. I turned my body slightly, allowing them to rest more so against my chest than my shoulder, figuring it might be a bit more comfortable.

I felt them sigh and lean into me more, felt their body sag with relief to have some of the weight taken off of their feet. Despairingly, however, it only lasted a moment. Before long, they stiffened ever so slightly and pushed themself off of me, trying—and failing—to suppress a yawn as they looked up at me.

"Mmmsorrymmm," they hummed.

I could feel the disappointment on my face when they pulled away, taking their heavenly scent and addicting heat away with them. The more the group ahead of us talked, the less I listened. Instead, yet again, putting the majority of my focus on them.

I heard them ask a question, one that I didn't quite catch, and just heard the tail end of the response.

"Turns out there are only half as many rooms, so, yay, we all get to bunk up."

''But there was eight. So who gets to be parterless?" I glanced up from my job of Staring At (Name) to look around the room at all of the people that I call family.

We all gave a side long, knowing glance towards Hotch, already acknowledging the answer to that question.

After an uncounted amount of time of going back to staring at them, I watched them lift their head up from looking at the ground, glancing around the room once before slowly trudging after the rest of the team at they all started heading up the stairs.

They quickly overtook the rest of the team and moved ahead with Morgan. I watched them figure disappear behind the corner, still thinking about them resting against me down in the lobby. Somebody tapped me on the shoulder.

"Hmm?" I questioned at Rossi, who had apparently called my name a few times before I turned around to him.

"I said, you should ask them out. Its not like Hotch would care, hell, he practically made up the rules against dating in the office space, as long as you kept everything professional at work, it'd be fine."

I could feel my cheeks flush aggressively, I looked away and responded.

"I'm so-orry?" Curse my stuttering!

"You heard what I said, and don't even try to deny it. Anyone can see the way you look at the kid." He responded, unhesitant.

I felt the blush hotter moving up my neck and quickly looked away, picking up my pace slightly to get away from the embarrassment. At the top of the stairs, I went to stand beside (name) once again.

As they got to the top, the others stopped in front if us, while Aaron kept walking, picking a room and calling out a groggy "g'night" over his shoulder as he closed the door behind him.

"Let's decide this now so I can go to sleep," Morgan spoke up. His voice sleep-filled and sounding quite irritated. "Who's sleeping with who and in what room." He demanded.

I stepped forward, usually, on any of our other night spending in which we were forced to share a room, Morgan and I would bunk up. However, this time, Derek quickly looked over to Rossi who was leaned up against the wall.

"I call you," he spoke, sparing me a sideways glance that shot down to (name), and headed off to a random room. I winced, but when JJ and Emily went off to their room and it was only us two left, I felt myself cheer up slightly. Maybe tonight would be the night I could get up the courage and ask them. The thought quickly morphed into anxiety.

"Guess its us then," (name) mumbled, and drug themselves into the last free room.

I followed after them like some lovesick puppy dog and quickly gave the room a once over when we entered. The inside of the room was almost an exact match with the outside, walls vandalized and paint peeling, dust covering everything, giving it all a rather eery feeling.

I turned back to watch (name) as they flopped heavily onto the mattress, kicking up a thick puff of dust in the process. I watched them for another moment before setting my things down and moving to lay down on the tiny couch.

I sighed heavily, thinking of all the ways I could try and bring up the conversation that I so badly wanted to have. Sorting through the words repeatedly, and coming up empty. I sighed once again and settled for a simple:

"Good night (name)."

The couch was not the most comfortable thing I'd ever slept on, but it was much better than nothing.

I heard them sigh then, a whisper, barely audible, they spoke my name. Its odd how that one, simple little word made me fall so much more violently in love with the (hair color) haired person.

"... you can take the bed, I'll sleep there, its way to small for you." I could hear the sadness punctuating the sentence. That only hardened my refusal to let them sleep anywhere other than the bed, they obviously needed the rest if they sounded that sad about leaving it.

"No, its-uh, its alright, (name)," I refused, "I'll sleep here, its f-fine."

Midway though my sentence, a thought came to mind. Hence the stuttered last word. If the two of us slept together – er, not *together*together, but simply staying in the same bed... not that I would necessarily mind but... Spencer! – anyway, it would not only save us this impending argument, it would also grant us the many pluses of sleeping next to another body.

"No, seriously, Spence," I loved it when they called me Spence...

I heard them stand up and walk towards me, kneeling down in front of me.

"I don't need the bed. Take it."

When I still didn't show any sign of moving, they sighed exasperatingly and grabbed my stuff, dragging it over to the bed and marching back over to me.

"I'm alright really, I'm fine where I am, you take the bed." I still refused. They rolled their eyes and grabbed my arm—just their touch alone felt like heaven—and began trying to pull me from the couch.

"C'mon, Spence," they pleaded.

Again I thought about asking them about the sharing a bed idea.

"I... I'm not m-making you sleep on here. Maybe..." I trailed off slightly.

They looked at me questioningly and sat down on the couch beside me, meaning that there was more of them touching me, more of them having no idea what they were doing to me.

"What? Maybe what?"

I began panicking slightly, abort, abort, how did I get myself into this?

I, stuttering voilenter still, responded hesitantly.

"W-well.. uhm, may-maybe we should, uh, just, uhm, you know, uhm, share...?" I saw the surprise flash across their features. "O-o-of course only if you wanted that is." I was panicking again. Time to go back to the statistics. "Did you know that sleeping in the same bed as another human can boost ones immune system, steady heart beat, help in the reduction of bad dreams and the sharing of body heat will keep approximately three times warmer, which aids in deeper and more restful sleep and I'm rambling I'm sorry I'll shut up now..." Oh goodness...

"Spencer, one, I find your rambling adorkable. Two, if you're comfortable with that then yeah, sure."

I flushed at the compliment; is adorkable even a word? Did they just agree??

"I am not," I mumbled. Getting up to follow them as they moved back towards the bed, glancing over their shoulder every now and then to check that I was still there.

"Dibs on that side," (name) demanded, pointing towards the side of the bed closest to the wall. I smiled at them slightly and nodded my head, watching them wonder away into the bathroom with their bag of toiletries.

I sighed, thinking about everything that had transpired this evening, before moving over to my bag to find my pajamas.

In finding them, I grimaced. Holding the stupid 'I ❤ π' shirt and debated my ability to sleep without it. No, that might be to uncomfortable for them. I quickly slipped into the clothing and glanced down myself. I looked like a total dork. This was going to be embarrassing.

I looked up from where I still stood starring at myself as I heard the bathroom door open. In nothing but the gigantic T-shirt, they looked somehow even more delicate than before. The shirt enveloping their entire small frame, emphasizing the gorgeous expanse of their (your skin color) legs. It took me almost a full minute to finish scouring their body. Taking in every little detail.

They giggled slightly at —I'm assuming— the fact that I was stuck staring at them for so long. They almost seemed surprised at the action, putting a small hand over their lips after the sound escaped. They wobbled towards the bed and I, looking very happy to go lay down in a decent-enough bed for once.

Walking right past me, they crawled up the bed (which made an awful creaking sound as they did so) and plopped down rather unceremoniously. Curling up into a ball with their front to the wall, they mumbled over their shoulder to me.

"G'night, Spence," before falling almost immediately into sleep.

I slowly lay down beside them, careful not to jostle the bed and awaken them, and rolled so that I could watch the rhythm of their breathing. After only a moment, I couldn't help myself. I reached out to play with a piece of their hair, and muttered, barely audible even for myself, seventeen letters and seven words that I never thought I could ever really see myself saying before.

"I think I'm in love with you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

At some point during the night, I awoke for some reason or other. Looking over at the gorgeous being beside me, I couldn't help but crave the ability to wake up to something like this everyday for the rest of my life. I itched for it in fact, I hungered for it even.

Again, damn my self-control, I couldn't help but reach out and touch them. Tracing my fingers ever so gently over their cheekbone, they made an odd keening sound, furrowed their eyebrows, and turned their head slightly up into my hand. Nuzzling against the warmth of my hand in their sleep. They must have been absolutely freezing.

Hesitantly, I reached for their shoulder, slowly pulling them across the mattress and closer to me. I smiled slightly at the fact that their mouth graced with a slight smile at the touch. I pulled them closer until they were right against my chest, after which I promptly wrapped my free arm around their lower back, holding them to my chest protectively as they slept.

I bent my head to bury my face into their scent for a moment, enjoying their presence while it was there. I layed my head back down on the dusty pillow, wrapped one hand into their hair, and faded back off into sleep, a silly smile on my face the entire time.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, as per usual, I awoke before everyone else. Including the person that still lay tight against me. Their small arms wrapped around my middle and holding me just about as tight as I held them.

I may not ever get to tell them I love them, but, in this moment, I'm content to live with it, if only we could stay like this forever... 

**(name)**

I'm not so sure what awoke me this time, but I did know that I was suddenly a lot warmer than I was the first time I woke up tonight.

Peeling my eyes open, as expected, I couldn't see anything in the dark. But, looking up, I could make out the shape of Spencer's face nuzzled into my hair, his expression happily calm.

I couldn't help but find it adorable

His arms were rested around me, pulling my tight into his chest. When had that happened?

Content with cuddling with the lanky doctor, I untangled one arm from between us, and wrapped it around his lower back, burrowed my face into his chest, and closed my eyes, fading back onto the first peaceful sleep I'd had in months.

This entire "oneshot" is 6590 words. Yikes.