#oh. (looking at this in november) yeah okay sometimes “a while” is half a year | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bcdrawsandwrites · 1 year

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[ID: The first image Psychonauts fanfic banner on a black-to-gray gradient background. On the left in white text it says “Prompt #4: Rescue Mission” On the right is a pink animated figment of a thought bubble, inside which is a donut with frosting and sprinkles.

The second image is a Bad Things Happen Bingo card. Various prompts are marked with a half-brain (prompt requested but not filled) or full-brain (prompt requested and finished) symbol, while the “Rescue Mission” prompt specifically is marked with a full brain symbol. /end ID]

Okay so I hate the way Tumblr crops these so I’m putting the banner above the bingo card. I hope that’s okay, @badthingshappenbingo ! (also I promise the figment in the banner makes sense for the fic)

I am currently NO LONGER OPEN FOR REQUESTS. I have enough to work on to get a bingo! I MAY decide to reopen prompts later if I want to keep going after finishing these fics, but for now, requests are closed!

This request comes from @echoing-interests! Hope you liked my take on this. \o/; Thanks to @jaywings and @of-science-and-stars for beta-reading!

Prompt: Rescue Mission Characters: Sasha Nein, Milla Vodello, and Razputin Aquato Warnings: None

---~~~---

Status report. Dustpan?

Listening to conversations at the water coolers, darling.

Have you gathered the intel?

No, just gossip. It's quite juicy, but I'm keeping an ear out for our target. What about you, Shoehorn?

Searching the trash bins. Sasha flipped through another folder in the file cabinet. The Gastronauts are still terrible at... recycling, so this is taking longer than expected. Eggbeater?

I'm still wondering why we have to use our code names when we're talking through telepathy.

Because the devices Egg Carton gave us to counteract the disruptive waves the Gastronauts put around their base are still experimental, and we don't know that they aren't listening in.

...Are there really devices that can listen in on psychic thoughts?

We don't know yet, darling.

Do you not recall our briefing?

I uh... Raz's mental voice faltered. I... was kinda so excited that we were infiltrating an enemy base that I... forgot to listen.

Sasha's brow furrowed, and he let out a hum. It's a good thing this isn't a more serious mission, or you would be in danger.

Sorry.

Darling, do you at least remember our goal?

Oh! Yeah, got that one. Find the blue—wait! We weren't supposed to relay that over telepathy, were we?

Correct. Can you relay your position?

Affirmative. I'm still in the air vents and looking for the office, as instructed. Over.

Let's resume. Let me know if you find anything.

With that, Sasha TK'd another stack of papers out from the filing cabinet, quickly sorting through them, his eyes darting over the dates. Annoyingly they seemed to jump from January, to March, to November, to May of last year. Either they never referenced their files or they just didn't care how disorganized they were, and he wasn't sure which was worse. Frowning, he slid the papers back into their places and moved onto the next drawer. This went on for some time—there were a grand total of ten filing cabinets in this forsaken clerk's office with four drawers each. This combined with how awful the Gastronauts' bookkeeping was certainly did not make it easy for Sasha to find what he'd been looking for.

At the very least he had a bit of time—this clerk, he'd discovered, liked to take his sweet time with his lunch break, sometimes taking longer than the time allotted. Plus, if their telepathy was intercepted, then whoever tried to investigate them would be looking in the wrong places. Typically for something like this they would've used encrypted telepathy, but Raz had yet to learn it, and the agent that usually taught it was out on a lengthy mission, so they had to fall back on simpler methods. This, at least, was something Raz had no trouble with.

Eggbeater is quite enthusiastic, isn't he? came Milla's voice over telepathy. It was a message sent to him alone, a familiar psychic whisper.

Yes, but his enthusiasm can be a bit... misplaced at times. Finding this stack only had papers from three or four years ago, he sighed and moved on. He needs to pay attention during briefings.

He'll get the hang of things soon, Shoehorn.

I'm sure you're right. Stooping down, he opened the last drawer to find it only had one folder within. He TK'd out its contents, looking them over. Eyebrows raising, he put a hand to his temple. I've only found worthless things here.

That's terrible! We'll have to move on, then, Milla replied with an excitement that did not match her coded words.

Sasha smiled, waiting for Raz's equally-enthusiastic response. As he quickly folded the paper and shoved it into his jacket, however, no reply came. Eggbeater? he asked. Please confirm you received the message announcing my failure.

Perhaps he's forgetting things again, Milla suggested.

Frowning, Sasha sent a stronger signal. Eggbeater? Respond.

His telepathy was met with the almost-physical thud of psychic energy striking against a barrier. Sucking in a breath, Sasha straightened his back. Dustpan, send a message to Eggbeater immediately.

Several heartbeats later, Milla sent an uncharacteristically quiet response: His signal was... blocked.

Change mission objectives immediately. Retreat to base.

Instead of heading for the exit, however, Sasha scanned the darkened office he'd been sneaking around in. Its owner had been out to lunch, but... He hurried up to the desk, spotted a pen, and put his hand on it before shutting his eyes.

Immediately his view was replaced with that of a half-eaten plate of french fries and ranch dressing. (Eugh.) With a subtle suggestion he made the person look up, granting him a better view of what appeared to be a cafeteria. Several other workers were milling about, chatting with each other and eating food. With a few quick uses of clairvoyance, he jumped from person to person, taking a moment to listen to their thoughts.

Ugh, that report is due tonight, gonna have to work overtime.

Can't believe they caught that listening device! That took months to plant.

Man, why are the fries always cold?

While Sasha could feel the anxiety tugging at his mind at finding no information on Raz's whereabouts, at the very least none of these people were aware that there were intruders, meaning that perhaps only a few people had found Raz. The fewer people they had to deal with, the better.

Finally he caught someone that was heading out of the room, and CV'd into her. Meanwhile an encrypted message reached him, and he quickly untangled it: Sasha, have you found anything?

He replied with an encrypted message of his own: I'm currently employing use of clairvoyance to check around the base. A note on the listening device we found in the Motherlobe, but nothing on Razputin.

I'm searching for ripples as we speak. This shouldn't take long.

Yet even now it already felt like they were taking too long. The woman whose head he'd hopped into was walking to the restroom, so he moved from her to a man that was exiting the men's room and striding down another hallway. This one only had a stack of paperwork on his mind, so he jumped from him and over into a person lingering in the doorway of an office. There was nothing of note in there other than a very tired worker holding his head in his hands while the woman in the doorway rambled about the latest football game. The man at the desk finally raised his head. "Rhonda, I know, I know we lost. Man, I can't believe I stayed up to watch that mess." He rubbed his eyes. "I'm so tired I think I'm hearing things—I swear I heard a kid in here earlier."

Sasha gave a start.

Sasha, Milla's encrypted voice came over telepathy. I've got something.

I may have as well.

"Seriously, like, did Jakob bring his kid in again?"

"Nah, we would've heard from Morter if he did."

"True..."

Quickly Sasha compelled the woman in the doorway to glance out into the hall, and from there, jumped into a different person's head through another open door. Some people here may have heard Raz's voice, he replied quickly. I may be close to where he was taken. He took a moment to listen in on the worker's thoughts, and upon finding only an extreme longing for donuts, he jumped to the next worker he could spot. What have you found?

I may have pinpointed where Raz was taken. Raz's signal is blocked entirely, but I've found a man who's very intently focused on a child, in a storage room...

Sasha's stomach dropped, his mind racing to several different conclusions, none of them positive. Perhaps a secret interrogation room, he thought frantically, compelling the man he'd jumped into to glance around the hallway. Sure enough, he spotted a storage room, but the door was shut. Frustration gnawing at his astral consciousness, he tried to send a subliminal urge to the man to grab some files that had definitely been put in that particular storage room.

What? the man thought. Where'd that come from? That one doesn't even have files in it, that's in the one on the second floor.

Gritting his teeth, Sasha sent another subtle signal: Someone left a very important file in there and it will get lost if I do not grab it.

...Oh yeah, Elliot dropped his report in there last time. Ugh.

With a sigh, the man fished in his pocket for a key before moving to open the door.

"Uh-uuhhhh hang on, occupied!" a frantic voice came from inside, followed by a lot of scrambling and clanking.

"Wha'd'you mean, 'occupied'?" the man outside asked. "You're in the device storage, Morter, not the bathroom!"

"Look I'm—I'm conducting something in here, okay?"

"Conducting... what, exactly?"

"An... interview?"

The man outside groaned. "Man, why don't you interview applicants in your office? What've you got one for if you're just—"

"R-Rhonda wouldn't shut up."

"...Ah, got it." Sighing, he shook his head. "Look, did Elliot leave his report in there?"

"I... oh. Huh, he did."

"Just hand it to me, and I'll leave you and the new guy alone, okay?"

"R-right."

Sasha readied himself, and the second the door cracked open, he jumped into the man—Morter's, apparently—head. Sure enough, once the man turned around he found himself staring at a dimly-lit room with shelves and shelves of boxes and strange devices he didn't have time to analyze.

And in the middle of the room was a metal chair, with Raz sitting on it, bound and gagged, a look of fear and worry in his eyes. The counter-device Otto had provided him with was sitting on the floor a distance off, too far away to properly block the disruptive waves around the building. He jumped into Raz's head, taking a quick read of his thoughts.

Oh no, oh no, please don't come back here, this isn't good...!

He'd seen enough.

Don’t worry, Eggbeater, we’re on our way.

Without waiting for a response, Sasha yanked his consciousness back to his own body, shutting his eyes against the dizziness it brought. He pressed a hand to his temple, fingers digging in so hard they hurt. I've found him. He's in danger.

There was silence on Milla's end for a moment. When she replied, her mental voice was cold. We've known the Gastronauts could do questionable things... but placing a child in danger...

There's no time to waste.

Nothing more needed to be said. Sasha levitated up into the ceiling vent he'd initially come out of, closing it behind himself and crawling through. He'd come to this place a number of times for routine missions, but he was less familiar with the location of the device storage. He'd seen the cafeteria before, so if he could remember where that was from his current position, and build a mental map of where he'd gone to find the door to storage...

It wasn't the first time he'd had to do something like this, yet for once he was having trouble focusing; the longer he took to do this, the more likely it was that Raz could get hurt. How he was being hurt, he wasn't sure, and not knowing only worried him more.

A hand—one that wasn't truly there—gently rested on his shoulder before squeezing it. Sasha, Milla said, and he shook his head, bringing himself back into focus. Silently he crawled through the vents, heading in a direction just west of the cafeteria. Milla, meanwhile, was disguised as a Gastronaut herself, and navigating the building below him, moving over to where she'd felt the waves. Sasha could feel the frustration bubbling on her end when an actual Gastronauts agent stopped her to ask some questions, but he moved on, heading closer and closer to the storage room.

A wailing noise, distorted through the vents, made the hair on his neck stand on end.

It was coming in the direction of the storage.

Sasha was over the vent cover in moments, and with a single psi-blast knocked it off its screws and sent it crashing to the ground. He followed seconds later, landing a bit more roughly than usual, one hand to his temple. On the opposite side of the room, Milla slammed the door open, her presence filling the doorway.

Both of them stood partially crouched, one hand to their temple... until they took in the sight before them.

Raz was still sitting on the chair, no longer gagged, while the man that Sasha had caught a glimpse of earlier was now lying on the floor, hands covering his face as he sobbed. Between them sat Raz's Psycho-Portal. Upon seeing Sasha and Milla barging into the room, Raz whipped his head around, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Oh! Hi, guys!"

Slowly Sasha and Milla straightened their backs, lowering their hands as they both stared at him.

"...Razputin. What."

Raz shrugged sheepishly. "I felt your CV earlier, but I was kinda preoccupied with helping Morter, and I was also really worried that his coworker would come in here and see us. Which, speaking of—Milla, can you shut that door?"

Blinking, Milla stepped into the room and shut the door softly behind her. "Who's... Morter?"

"ME!" the man on the floor cried, scrubbing the snot and tears from his face.

"But don't worry! We've got it all settled now. D'you mind untying me, though? I was gonna ask Morter, but..." He lowered his voice to a stage whisper, "I think he's kinda having a moment right now."

Sasha felt oddly lightheaded as he stepped up to Raz, using telekinesis to untie the ropes that bound him. "So you're not hurt?"

"I feel a little stiff now that you mention it," Raz said as he hopped down. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his legs. "I think I can walk it off, though."

"We... may have caused a bit of commotion," Milla remarked, glancing back toward the door. "I think we should take our leave."

"Already?" Frowning, Raz snatched up his Psycho-Portal, hurried over to Morter, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, I gotta go. Sorry I couldn't stay longer. But you're gonna stand up to Jakob from now on, right?"

Morter raised himself up onto his knees, scrubbing at his face again. "Y-yes!" he sobbed. "I will!"

"Great! Glad to hear it." Giving him a positive thump on the back, Raz stood up straight and hurried over to Sasha. "Are we heading back through the vents?"

"...Yes."

"Okay, got it. See you later, Morter!" He paused. "Please don't rat us out to your bosses, okay?"

"I-I—I won't!"

"Thanks!" Grinning, Raz hopped up onto his levitation ball and bounced up into the vent. Sasha and Milla exchanged bewildered glances before following.

Once they were out of the building and heading back to where they'd arranged for Oleander to pick them up, Milla finally spoke up: "So... can you tell us what happened in there?"

With a wince, Raz ducked his head. "Yeah, so, I kinda got caught..." Then his head shot back up, and he held up his hands. "But it's okay! 'Cuz Morter took me into that storage room—he wanted to interrogate me, I think, but I saw he was all stressed out, and I asked him about what was wrong, and he talked about how he's this office worker and this one agent keeps bullying him and dumping all this work on him and making him watch his kid at work, and... I kinda... asked if he'd like me to take a look around in here." He tapped on his head. "He was actually kinda curious about how we do that kinda stuff, so he agreed, and... I... kinda helped him sort things out from there." Raz paused, then screwed up his face. "His mental world was a daycare."

Sasha laughed, quite a bit louder than he'd intended, and Milla and Raz stared at him. "That's... quite remarkable, Razputin."

"You think so?" Raz smiled, only for his face to fall as he glanced aside. "I was... kinda worried that I wasn't doing as well on this mission, especially since I missed so much of the briefing."

Milla stooped down closer to him to give him a grin. "You did amazing, darling!"

"Awesome! Man, for a bit there I was worried we weren't gonna pull that mission off."

"Well, about that..." Frowning, Sasha pulled the paperwork he'd found out of his jacket. "I did find the new employee paperwork, but we weren't able to secure the blueprints for their newest device."

"...Oh, yeah! Almost forgot. I did get taken to device storage, so at one point while Morter's back was turned..." Glancing over his shoulder, Raz TK'd a rolled-up sheet of paper out of his backpack.

Sasha and Milla exchanged glances, both of them giving a relieved smile as they looked back down at Raz.

"You really are something, Agent Aquato."

#sasha nein #milla vodello #razputin aquato #psychonauts #bad things happen bingo #psychonauts 2 #fanfic #my art #my writing #OKAY I have one more on the backlog to edit #also working on a oneshot that has nothing to do with the challenge #before I get to the next fic

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mondaychildsworld · 9 months

Text

I know the end - Joel x Reader

Previous chapter / Next chapter

Part Three / ?

Rating: M

Word Count: 5.3K

Chapter summary: In search of a vehicle you stumble upon some infected and learn some new things about each other. Reader patches Joel up and ✨✨✨!!

Warnings: Infected, (small) mention of drugs, swearing, some violence I guess, and some tiny tiny tiny amount of fluff (?!?!) (idek if thats a warning but here we go)

A/N: Sorry for taking soooo long! I've had two weeks of travel during the summer, started a full time job AND moving at the same time... Let's just say there hasn't been any time left for writing. I'm already sleep deprived lol. I've done some sporadically writing while I've had time to kill at airports and I've finally tied it all together! Enjoy!! It's definitely worth reading and you'll experience some feelings at the end, aaaah!!!

And here's my tiny taglist: @boofy1998

November 21st 2023

“Okay, so it shouldn’t be too long now!” Joel shouts as you find yourself and your companions on an old dirt road. Everything you see is still covered in white. It’s been better weather for a couple of days. The sun is shining and you’re in a better mood.

“Yeah? You think we’ll be there today?” You ask and squint your eyes, raising your hand to your head to bring your eyes some shade from the sun.

“Sure.” Joel simply says, but he doesn’t give you a look back. So kind of him.

You’ve been hiking to Cheyenne for the last couple of days. It’s been going alright, despite everything. You’ve accepted the pain and the loss. It still feels like there’s a big hole in your heart. A piece of the puzzle to your soul is missing. But you’ve accepted that there’s no other option than keep going. It scares you even more to give up. You might not have anyone left to live for, but there’s got to be some sort of reason why you’re still here. Your time is not up. You know that this is not the end for you.

Ellie puts on a mischievous smile and pulls up the book ‘No pun intended: Volume Too’. You let a small chuckle slip past your lips. Joel, who walks in front of the two of you, looks back and sees Ellie browse through the pages.

”Oh, Ellie…” Joel starts with a sigh. The 14-year old has been reading from the pun book non stop, or kept asking questions only a FEDRA teenager would ask. She’s clearly smart, but there’s a lot about the world she doesn’t know about. She keeps being fascinated by just the smallest things. For example, could she not stop asking about how cool it was that you could go to the cinema, once you’ve stated that you often used to visit the movies. ‘You could buy popcorn?! Damn, what’s that like? I’ve never had popcorn’ she could say, and then tell you about the shitty movie night they sometimes could have at the FEDRA school on special occasions. You felt sorry for her, a kid not being able to grow up as one.

“Who is the penguin’s favorite aunt?” she asks the both of you as she ignores Joel’s small protest. Her eyes darted between the two of you eagerly waiting for any of you to come up with the answer.

“Oh I don’t know Ellie.” You say and your eyes and stare at the man in front of you, now walking backwards, waiting for the second half of the pun. He raises his hands as a way of surrendering to the question, he glimpses over to you and your eyes meet. You think you could see some sort of smile behind the scruffy beard and bushy eyebrows. He actually enjoys this, you think. He really doesn’t mind the puns, if you could guess. He tries to not show it though.

“Aunt-Arctica!” Ellie says with a big smile, laughs a bit and clutches the book to her chest. “That one’s good, right?”

Joel gives Ellie a quick, almost pained smile and hums something inaudible. He then looks at you again, for just a couple of seconds. It looks like he suddenly regrets resting his eyes on you and quickly looks back to Ellie again.

“Next one Ellie?” You request another pun to keep your mind and eyes occupied on anything else than him. Because, of course, you have been looking at him, always walking in front of you. Not like there’s much else to do out here. He’s just a bit older than you, but surely still looks good. You’d guess he was very handsome when he was younger. Now he’s hiding all of that under a stern, unfriendly approach, very much directed towards you.

“Your wish is my command.” She says jokingly “So, how do you make holy water?”

You don’t know that one. Instead Joel’s face lights up, but he doesn’t say anything.

“You know it?!” Ellie giggles loudly.

“Yep, not gonna say it though.” He answers.

“Oh no, no, no.” Ellie points at him with the book. “You gotta answer, because if I reveal the answer, you’ll only lie and tell me you knew it”

“I wouldn’t do that!” Joel says, jokingly defensive.

“Yes you would!” Ellie bites back. “Just say it!”

They continue to bicker about who’s going to reveal the answer to the pun as the dirt road makes a slight turn to the right and just there, in the far distance, you see it. You gasp for a second and then nervously look around y0u. They haven’t noticed. The city unveils itself in front of you. Far away, you can spot buildings and roads belonging to the city of Cheyenne.

“Guys!” You excitedly say as you try to gain their attention. But they’re in deep arguments about the pun.

“Hey!” You try again. But with no response you reach out and lightly push Joel by his shoulder. He gives you that look again, but also looks a bit startled as to why you’re touching him.

“Look.” You quietly say, now that you’ve gained his attention. He looks down at your hand, still on his shoulder. You quickly drop it and take a step back as he turns around to see what you’re wanting his attention for.

“Well I’ll be damned.” He mutters and looks back at Ellie. “Welcome to Cheyenne.”

After some time spent on foot towards the city you’re finally standing at the outskirts of the town. There’s abandoned cars all the way down Route 85 you just walked by. The whole way over here Joel had been holding a firm grip on his rifle. The lighthearted laughs and the kind gaze was completely gone. He’s now in a whole other mood. He’s on a mission, and his focus is now 100% on the plan of action for the town in front of you.

“Hey, remember what I said?” Joel says to the group, and it seems more like a statement than a question.

“Go through, be quiet, find a car and get out of here.” Ellie answers, pleased to show Joel that she’s able to listen, before she adds, ”Please can I use my gun?”

Joel steps over a pile of metal trash that’s blocking your way into entering the town. Both you and Ellie follow. You can see that he considers Ellie’s request for a moment, and quickly settles for a positive answer, if you’d ask Ellie herself.

“Sure.” He says as he reaches out a hand for you to grab, as you make your way down from the old scrap pile. “But only when I say so.”

You just give him a glare back, and let the silence speak for itself. You don’t need help over this little obstacle. Joel sighs and offers his hand to Ellie, instead of you. Ellie, who apparently liked you, takes up on your way of refusing help and jumps down from the pile by herself. There’s an awful lot of noise when little pieces of old junk follow her on the way down, metal slamming into the concrete ground.

Joel squeezes his eyes shut and draws his hand back, now raking through his hair. Definitely annoyed.

“Ellie! What did I just say!” He hisses before he looks around for any kind of movement from the silent city.

“Sorry…” Ellie apologizes.

The silence is almost eerie. It’s like it’s too quiet. There’s no way this city is empty. If there aren't any humans that made up a safe camp in any nearby building, you wouldn’t be surprised to stumble upon one or two infected. You kind of hoped for the later, humans often meant more trouble. And you can’t always shoot your way out of trouble. Like last time.

Of course, it’s also the humans who bring the silence. Not the other way around. Many of the infected can make an awful lot of noise.

But this time you seem to be safe, as you slowly make your way into the city. The open view you had over the landscape slowly disappears as you make your way into the heart of the city, away from the interstates. You tightly cling to your gun. You’re nervous. But you would never confess it.

Your eyes roam the streets for a car that isn’t burned out, has a flat tire or just looks like complete junk.

Joel leads the group further into the center of the town. You jump over the guardrail and start to miss the wide open space you just left behind.

You glimpse over your shoulder and see Ellie walking as if you were out on a high school field trip. The nervous feeling in your belly does not give you the same easy going appearance. Maybe it’s because you’ve been out here for longer than her, or it is because you remember what cities like this might’ve looked like before.

Cheyenne is that kind of city that isn’t huge, but still pretty large. You pass a couple of motels at the outskirts of the town. They look worn down and you don’t even want to know what could be hiding inside. You know all too well that places like that look very inviting when you’re tired, hungry and on the run from the mess that this world turned out to be.

About half an hour later you’re way further into the town than you’re actually comfortable with. You’ve passed many vehicles by now, only to find most of them out of gas or with a flat tire, which doesn’t feel like a good sign.

“I’m not feeling great about this.” You say after you checked another vehicle, which turned out to have a dead battery.

“I know.” Joel mumbles. “But we need that car.”

There’s a wrinkle in between his brows. Worried.

“Let’s have a look in here, maybe?” Ellie asks and gestures towards the supermarket on the next block.

“You won’t find anything in there.” Joel says.

“Especially not a car.” You add.

You look up at the sky. The sun is going to set soon. This time of the year doesn’t bring you that much daylight.

“I’m hungry.” Ellie simply states.

Joel nods silently towards Ellie and then looks over to you.

“If you want to, you can try out the rest of the cars down the street, and I’ll see if I can find her something to eat.”

You hesitate at his words, suggesting leaving you alone on the street. He must’ve seen how the idea he just proposed made you uneasy.

“We’ll be in for just a few minutes, there’s probably not anything left anyway.” He speaks quietly, calmly.

You nod, and watch them walk toward the supermarket while you continue to try out the cars on the street.

The next couple of cars turn out to be a disappointment. Flat tire. Flat tire. Crashed. Broken windshield. Totally burnt out. Flat tire.

But then you see a car a couple of vehicles away that actually looks promising. You look around, keeping a steady hand on the trigger as you slowly walk up to the truck and open the door. You take a few steps back and aim into the truck.

Empty.

You sigh with relief. The car looks way too good to have been standing here since the outbreak. Someone must’ve left it here not too long ago.

You jump into the car seat and immediately start working on hot-wiring the car.

You hear the engine kicking to life and you let out a happy shriek in the car, you’re just about to turn around and get out of the car to go get Joel and Ellie when you hear a loud crash.

The smile on your lips suddenly fades away and is now turned into a frown. You turn your head towards the sound. At the same time you see shatters of glass on the ground, just outside the supermarket. And a body. There’s a body on the ground.

“No!” You yell and throw yourself out of the car. It can’t be Ellie. It’s too big. Your heart sinks as you realize that it could be Joel’s body laying there lifeless on the street. That means that Ellie could be left alone inside. But not totally alone. Alone with a threat, even worse.

You sprint up to the body and yell for Ellie at the same time. You draw your gun and as you are just a few steps away from the body, you realize it’s not Joel. It’s an infected. Shot in the head, blood pooling around the fungi covered body.

You hear your name being yelled and look through the broken supermarket window.

Your eyes meet Joel’s.

There’s panic and fear at the same time as they’re determined.

“Get the car!” He yells at you, and as you turn around and run towards the truck there’s gunshots.

So much happens at the same time. Your pulse has skyrocketed in just a few seconds. You jump into the car and quickly reverse it back towards the supermarket. You need to get to safety. All of you.

As you reverse back you keep looking into the rearview window. When you’re about halfway you see two people running out from the supermarket. Joel and Ellie… tightly followed by a bunch of infected. You don’t have time to count them, but it seems to be around half a dozen of them.

Just as you slow down to let them into the truck, when they’re just a few meters behind, it happens. You feel something graze your shoulder. You turn your head and see how an infected is leaning into the car through the open window of the passenger seat.

Panic sets in your body at once and you scream as you push the break down. The jaw of what once seemed to be a teenage boy clatters violently after your skin and flesh. You reach for your gun with shaky hands.

“Help!” You scream as you accidentally drop your gun to the floor. You don’t have time to search for it now. The infected boy keeps crawling into the car through the window and you try to shove it back without getting bitten as you’re now pressed up against the door of the car.

A couple of seconds later the door opens abruptly. You nearly fall out but your back lands against something warm and firm. You see a rifle above your head as you try to grasp anything to hold onto. A second later the infected is shot and dead and you’re being roughly pulled up by strong arms.

Soon you realize what’s happening. Joel pushes you back into the seat. He shot the infected and saved you.

“Than-“ You start to thank him, but are abruptly interrupted by a gasp and some cursing from behind Joel.

He turns around to face Ellie, who stumbles up behind him, white as a sheet.

He raises his rifle and shoots off the infected that has now gotten uncomfortably close to Ellie.

He gives her a worried look and tells her to get in the truck. She jumps into the backseat as he rushes to the passenger seat, still shooting at the infected closing up to the car.

As soon as Joel has dragged the dead body out of the car and you all have taken a seat you press down on the gas pedal as hard as you can. The car speeds away quickly and you leave the scene behind.

“What the hell happened in there?!” You exclaim and look up into the mirror, back at Ellie. She stays quiet, fumbles with the hem of her shirt and gives Joel a worrying look. She ignores your question and the looks you give through the mirror.

You try and navigate your way out of the city, without stumbling upon even more surprises. That was a close call, for all of you.

“Joel…” Ellie quietly says. You give them a quick glance through the mirror. He’s already leaning back to Ellie in the passenger seat.

You make a quick turn to the left. The pressing silence in the car is obvious. You just escaped death yet another time, this wasn’t the end either.

At the same moment you steer the car straight up the street you just turned to, you catch a glimpse of Ellie in the backseat. It’s for just a second, before she pulls her sleeve down again. But you see it. The bite mark.

You freeze in your seat. Your knuckles turn white as your grip on the steering wheel tightens. Fuck.

“You’re infected.” You say with a shaky voice. “I’m so sorry Ellie, I’m so sorry but we can’t-“

Your voice breaks. You feel tears approaching and you swallow and try to gather your thoughts. Ellie is just a girl and her days are counted.

“No.”

It’s Joel who speaks up.

“Yes. You know how this will end.” You answer.

“You don’t understand.”

“Yes I do. I’ve seen people getting bit before.”

He calmly observes you for a second. It’s frustrating how he doesn’t seem to even give Ellie some sort of reaction towards her new death sentence.

“There’s no way out of this.” You continue.

“Just drive.” He says sternly before leaning back again to Ellie. “You’ okay?”

His tone changes completely as soon as he speaks to her instead of you. They continue to mumble with each other for a minute. That’s when you decide that you’ve had enough. You’ve driven a couple of blocks away from the group of infected and decide that you’re at a safe distance. You push the break.

“What are you doing?!” Ellie asks, frightened, holding onto Joel’s headrest as the car stops abruptly.

“You’re infected and you two can’t continue to ignore that fact.” You say and cross your arms. “What the fuck is this?”

“Jesus, just-“ Joel says and rakes his fingers through his silver sprained hair. “Just move the fucking car and we’ll sort this out.”

“Please enlighten me, how do we ‘sort this out’ now?” You ask as you grab the steering wheel again. “She’s infected.”

“I’m not.” A quiet voice says from behind.

“Ellie.” Joel warns her.

You reluctantly start to drive the truck again, through the streets like they’re a maze to get out of this town. You did get a car, at least. Mission complete. In one way.

“What do you mean Ellie?” You sigh. “I saw the bite mark.”

“We should just tell her, Joel.”

“Ellie! You agreed not to-“

“Yeah, I know.” She says. “But what if she just decides to, I don’t know, kill me in my sleep now?!”

“She won’t.” He says and makes a distressed grimace before he covers his face with his large hands. “You know what, fuck it.”

He sighs and turns to you.

“She’s immune.”

“Joel, that’s impossible.”

“It’s not.” He says. “I’ve… I’ve seen it.”

“What do you mean?”

Ellie leans forwards and pops her head between the two of you. She props her arms up on your seats.

“I’ve been bitten before, but I’ve never turned.” She says and looks over to Joel. “He wanted to shoot me at first too but here we are, on this road trip towa-“

“That’s enough.” Joel chimes in.

Ellie puts her arm between the two of you, over the gear shift. It’s the opposite arm from what you saw in the mirror just a couple of minutes ago. She pulls her sleeve up and you glance down. It’s obviously a bite mark. It’s definitely cordyceps, but totally healed. Ellie’s left with only a scar.

“Oh.” You say. That’s the only thing you can say. You’re shocked, confused and still a bit stressed out from the incident. Ellie rolls her sleeve down again and a silence falls over all of you as you drive your way out of town.

About an hour later you’re far away from Cheyenne. You had driven west, trying to stay away from the big roads. Ellie has fallen asleep in the backseat, mouth slightly open.

There’s been nothing but silence between you and Joel since you found out about Ellie’s immunity. He’s been reading the map and pointing out which way to go. But other than that, you hadn’t spoken.

“Joel…” You start, silently, to not wake Ellie up. You glance into the mirror but she hasn’t moved an inch.

You get a grumpy humming sound as a response.

“Why are you here?”

“What?” He answers, and sounds tired.

“Why are you and Ellie here?” You ask. “It’s pretty weird, you’ve just showed up in the middle of the woods, with an immune kid?”

He’s quiet.

“You show up with a teenage girl, who’s apparently immune? I know you well enough to know that this is not your style. You’ve given me such a hard time this week. So what am I supposed to do? Don’t you understand that I’m freaking out here?”

Your rambling trails off. There are a few more seconds of silence before he speaks.

“Don’t act like you know me.”

“Oh, so you’re still going to give me the cold shoulder? It’s not like I expected a warm welcome from you, but this? You’re just so unfriendly for no reason at all. I left my sister for dead about a week ago and you just shut me out, it’s like you have no empathy left in your soul.”

“I-“ He starts but stops himself, taking a couple of seconds to decide what to say or not. “I don’t… it’s complicated and I never asked for this.”

“Yeah?” You ask. “Fucking complicated, no doubt about that.”

He doesn’t give a proper answer, but you hear him grunt something you really can’t make out.

It’s dark outside. All you see is the stars scattered over the dark blue sky and the small road in front of you. Your eyes have been on the hunt for a good place to camp. At least you can sleep in the car now, as a backup plan.

Your stomach rumbles a bit. You haven’t eaten since yesterday, since the supermarket visit hadn’t gone as planned. Joel looks out the passenger window. You’re stuck here together in the car, so you suppose that’s all he can do as he tries to ignore you again. He’s slowly scratching his beard with his hand.

Suddenly he pauses and raises his hand up to the window. He points out in the dark at the same time as he finally speaks up.

“Drive over there.” The tiredness in his tone is changed into something else, something more hopeful. “Old cabin.”

You slow down and turn to the right, into an overgrown dirt road. Once, it might’ve been covered by gravel. Now it’s barely visible.

Now you see the small cabin too. It’s not big, but it looks sturdy, after all these years left abandoned. You pull up next to it and Joel looks back at Ellie, still asleep, before grabbing his rifle.

“Wait here.” He says and his dark eyes meet yours. You just nod and feel the breeze of cold air finding its way into the car as he opens the door and leaves. You feel like shit.

He’s gone for a couple of minutes and you sit there frozen, the whole time. This whole situation is fucked up. You’re left in the car with a possibly, or possibly not, infected kid in the middle of nowhere.

Soon Joel comes back and opens the backseat door next to Ellie but pauses and looks over at you for a second. He nods back towards the house to say ‘all good, let’s go’. Carefully he grips her shoulder and shakes her slightly.

You hear her mumble and shuffle out from the truck, with Joel’s arm around her shoulders as they make their way into the cabin. You sit silently in the car for a moment before you turn the engine off. The lights turn off and the backs of your two companions disappear just like your source of light. It takes a couple of seconds to get your eyes used to the dark. You take a deep breath and open the driver's door and step out onto the frozen ground. The flashlight blinks a bit as you click the power button and you need to firmly hit it against the palm of your hand before the flickering stops. The solid stream of light leads you up to the cabin, backpack slung over your shoulder. Your breath creates a frozen cloud in front of you as you exhale deeply before you enter the cabin.

Once you’re inside, you can see that the cabin's layout is basically just one big room. The small kitchen is located in the right corner. It’s small and full of stuffed animals on the wall, hunting trophies. You suppose this cabin must’ve been an old hunting cabin. The room is sparsely furnished. A couch is placed in the middle of the room, with a small and dusty coffee table in front. Ellie is already fast asleep on the couch. On the wall next to the kitchen, a big fireplace dominates most of the wall, with a big head of a deer hanging right over it.

In front of the fireplace you find a hunched down figure, which is Joel, trying to get a fire going.

You nervously look out of the windows, trying to make sure that no one, or nothing, followed you out here. You close the curtains and take a look in the cabinets of the kitchen but with no luck. They’re all empty of anything edible, but are stashed with some outdoor equipment, some plates, and a first aid kit, but it looks pretty beat up so you just suppose there isn’t anything of use in there. You sigh and awkwardly turn around to face the room. In front of the fireplace, in the cabin's only armchair, Joel sits slumped down with his head down, focusing on his hands.

There’s no other comfortable place to sit, other than the floor. You consider going back out to sleep in the car, even if that’s an option you’re not too keen on.

Joel noticed your awkward stance in the kitchen and you caught his stare. His mouth is slightly open and his eyes look tired. He blinks a couple of times and then pulls out his sleeping bag from his backpack next to him, as if he could read your mind.

“Take it.” He says and holds the sleeping bag out towards you, like a peace offering.

You slowly walk towards him and the fireplace, not breaking eye contact. As soon as you reach out and grab the sleeping bag his attention goes back to his other hand. You glance down and see that he’s hurt. There’s a cut in the soft flesh between his thumb and index finger, and his knuckles are bruised.

“Hey, let me help you.” You say as you bend down and try to grab his hand but he shoves your hand away and mutters something.

You take a step back and remember the first aid kit in the kitchen cabinet. You walk over there and open the door, grab the small back and start to dig through its contents. It’s mostly empty, but - bingo! - a roll of gauze bandage.

Joel looks reluctantly at you as you bend down on the sleeping bag in front of him again. You give him a look and he sighs as he slowly places his hand in yours, which is already reached out for his.

You take your bottle of water and start cleaning the wound and Joel hisses and drags his hand back a bit.

“I know something better.” He breathes out in pain.

“There’s this bar cart…” He gestures behind him and you nod and walk behind the armchair. Against the wall there is indeed a small bar cart, mostly covered in old boxes for ammunition, a dirty old whiskey glass and some dusty old gloves, but on the lower shelf there are a couple of almost empty bottles. You grab a glass bottle with a clear liquid and open it. You sniff carefully and it’s clearly still pretty strong after all these years in solitude.

You walk back to Joel and bend down in front of him, again. This time you grab his hand and you pause for a second. This almost feels too intimate. You hesitate to continue and you’re once again faced with that awkward feeling you had in the kitchen before. Joel places his other hand on yours, and holds it tight with both hands. You look up and meet his gaze. You must look terrified, like a deer in the headlights. How did you allow yourself to get this close to Joel? How did he even allow it?! The man who’s been more hostile than gracious towards you - is now holding your hand in a way you’d never imagine. You wish you had gone back to sleep in the truck, or that your stash of pills wasn’t long gone. You wanted to remove yourself from the situation, or at least numb the anxiety in your chest.

“It’s okay.” Joel assures and slowly lets go of your hand so you’re left with only the injured one, resting heavily in yours.

You slowly start to dab the cut on his hands clean with the alcohol that you found. You clean his knuckles and can’t help but study his hands even more. They’re big, rugged and firm in contrast to yours - which are rather the opposite to yours. They might not be as smooth and pretty as they used to be, but now, compared to his, it doesn’t look like you’ve been through an apocalypse at all.

“Fuck.” He grits his teeth and tries to stay quiet to not wake up the sleeping teenager on the couch. The alcohol must sting in the cut.

You start to wrap the gauze around his hand and the cut once everything looks clean.

“How did you…?” You mumble as you secure the gauze, but you don’t let go of his hand. He doesn’t move either. You feel your pulse rise.

“The glass door of the supermarket.” He mumbles and starts to stroke your hand with his thumb. The movement makes your skin tingle. But for him, it must hurt. Despite that, he keeps going. “Or the window, I don’t know.”

You just nod. You don’t know what to say. Or if you even can say anything. You’re terrified and totally consumed by his skin brushing against yours, and his honest, almost vulnerable gaze.

“Look, I…” He starts but trials off just as Ellie mumbles something.

You both draw your hands back and your eyes quickly dart over to the couch. Ellie smacks her lips slowly and her mouth stays open just a bit, before she starts to snore.

The spot Joel’s thumb kept brushing at your hand suddenly feels cold. You shiver a little bit and almost feel caught in the act of something… Something you weren’t supposed to do. No, that was nothing. That was only an act of gratitude for patching him up. Nothing else. You didn’t even want it to be anything else, you tried to tell yourself. But somehow something had shifted in the air between the two of you. You had told him he had given you the cold shoulder, that he’d been nothing but unfriendly to you and maybe he felt ashamed of his bad behavior. You didn’t need to be friends, but maybe he realized that you at least could be equals.

You quietly slipped into his sleeping bag between Joel and the fireplace. You didn’t want to continue the conversation he started, didn’t want to hear what he had to say. You didn’t want to ruin this moment. You placed your backpack on the floor to use a pillow and slowly sank down, making yourself comfortable. You could hear the cracking of the fire and Joel’s steady breaths as you drifted off to sleep. The sleeping bag smells like dust, wood and Joel.

#i know the end #joel x reader #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x you #fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic

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spenciebabie · 3 years

Text

This is a request from @mggbler! Thanks for asking, I loved writing this, I hope you like it!

The blurb was written for this gif.

The Girl Next Door

Spencer and his neighbor have been friends since he moved in. Just friends, so why was he feeling so jealous?

A/N: I got super carried away with this one, I really don’t think I’m capable of writing something under 1000 words. But I was inspired so what are you gonna do

Warnings: smut, nothing too explicit, masturbation (male and female), implied sex, kissing

Words: 1.6k

They’d been friends since the day Spencer moved into the building. She knew the place next door had been on the market for a while and was beyond excited to find out it was another person her own age moving in. Their building was packed with people who’d lived there since the place was built. Not that she hadn’t made friends with them too, it was just nice to have some fresh blood.

She’d brought over a bottle of wine and baked a plate of cookies to welcome him to the building. And his heart instantly swelled with gratitude. They became fast friends, Spencer had never had many of those, and he certainly hadn’t had many outside of work, so he welcomed the connection with open arms.

She was so easy to talk to that it never felt like a burden, or even effort to hang out with her. It always felt simple, and it always felt good.

Until about a year ago. Something shifted and he couldn’t really pinpoint when exactly it happened but I did. Spencer knew she was pretty, she had been from that first day she popped into his doorframe. But Spencer didn’t only care about pretty, he wasn’t the type of person to fall in love with the way someone looked, he fell in love with personality first.

He thinks it might’ve been last November, when he came home from a particularly bad case at 3am and she was outside his door at 3:05. Sleep in her eyes still in her pajamas, when she heard sounds coming from the hall she knew it was him, and something in her knew he needed company. And he realized that he needed her, that he loved her. But that love complicated things.

——

Their apartments are mirror images of each other, which was jarring at first, to walk into a backwards version of your own apartment, but the decorations are all a little different. It was just funny at first but since November it had become a problem.

Because of the layout, their bedrooms backed onto one another, worse still, the headboards of each of their beds were right up against the same paper thin wall.

This hadn’t been a real problem before but since he’d realized his feelings, and since she’d started going on more dates, it was starting to grate on Spencer.

Every time she left for a date he’d have a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach. He couldn’t sleep because he’d sit up waiting, listening intently for the sound of her coming in from the date, hoping desperately that she was alone.

And on the occasions that she was he’d feel relief, and then he’d feel horrible for feeling relieved that she’d had a bad time. But on the occasions that she wasn’t alone he’d feel even worse.

He hated the way he could hear her gentle moans, the way she’d cry out a muffled name as her headboard rocked against their shared wall. He loved the noises she made, more than anything, but he hated the noises that came from the other person in there with her. The person that was making her feel that way.

Sometimes he’d get lucky and it would be over quickly. Other times he’d get unlucky and he’d wake up to the same perfect moans the following morning.

Most of the time if he heard it starting he’d just get up and sleep on the couch.

Those paper thin walls could be a blessing at other times. On the occasions that he knew she didn’t have a date, that she was alone in her room. And he’d hear those same beautiful, filthy sounds. Sometimes he could hear the gentle hum of her vibrator, other times he wouldn’t, but the outcome would be the same. She’d moan and cry and if he was lucky, and she was particularly loud, he could sometimes hear her heavy panting.

On those occasions he’d let his own hand drift under the covers and into his boxers. He’d touch himself, stroking along his hard length while he listened. Screwing his eyes shut so that he could picture what might be happening on the other side of the wall, what was she wearing, or not wearing, what position was she lying in, how many fingers was she using, or did she have other toys. And more than anything, he wondered what she was picturing herself.

But when that happened he’d feel terrible almost immediately afterwards. It felt like an invasion of privacy but he really couldn’t help himself any more.

— —

When he arrives home that evening he’s barely got time to leave his satchel down before there’s a knock at his door. He knows who it is, it couldn’t be anyone else.

When he opens it she’s not dressed like she usually is. She’s in a little red dress. The kind with the tiny little straps that held it up, and the tie that wraps it snug around her waist. It cuts off at the mid thigh and he has to force himself to stop looking.

That’s when his eyes land on the bottle of wine in her hand and for a second he feels excited. She was coming over here dressed like that to see him!

“Have you got an corkscrew?” is the first thing she says, “I can’t find mine?”

He nods and steps aside to let her in, while he goes to rummage in the kitchen for his opener. She follows him to the kitchen and leans herself against the countertop.

When he finds it he hands it to her and she pops open the cork.

“Thanks Spence, you’re a lifesaver” she hands it back to him, and he roots through the cupboard for some glasses.

“You want a glass?” She asks, pouring her own and he nods, so she fills one up for him too.

Before he can ask what the occasion is she volunteers the information herself.

“I’ve got a date in like 20 minutes and I’m too nervous, I thought I’d have a drink to calm down but then I couldn’t find my corkscrew and I just made myself more nervous looking for it” she rushes out with a light laugh.

“Oh, cool” he says, and he tries desperately to keep his emotions under control but his heart felt like it was physically aching.

“I should actually head back in there and get ready, I gotta leave soon. You can keep the rest of that bottle, I’ll return the glass later!” She calls out as she wanders back towards his door. “Bye Spence”

“Good luck” he calls down the hall after her, and he wishes he meant it.

— —

Two hours go by and he’s mentally preparing himself for a night spent on the couch when there’s a light knock at his door.

It’s Y/N, and she looks as perfect as she did earlier, and something in him notices that her lipstick is still completely intact. She’s holding his wine glass from earlier and she hands it out to him.

“Here, thanks, but it didn’t do me much good” she frowns a little, and he yet again feels awful that it brings him so much relief.

“Do you wanna come in?” He asks, and he knows he shouldn’t.

“Yeah okay, another glass might help me now” she chuckles and she takes the wine glass back from him.

They sit next to each other on the couch and finish off the bottle together. She always feels so at ease in Spencer’s apartment. Maybe it’s because it was just like her own. But really she knew it was because he lived there, he just made her feel so comfortable, so happy, so loved.

And she also knew that’s why none of her dates had ever gotten a second, and why her date this evening had gone so badly.

None of them made her feel the way that Spencer did. None of them looked at her the way his eyes were looking at her now. And she knew she wouldn’t feel anything close to the love she felt for Spencer for anyone else.

“Spence?” She asks, placing her glass back on the coffee table, “do you ever think about us?”

“Us?” He asks, unsure

“Yeah” she pauses and takes in a deep breath, “Like how we get on so well, and how long we’ve known each other?”

“I mean— I guess so? Why?” He doesn’t want to presume anything about the direction of her train of thought but his heart is absolutely pounding.

“Well, I think what I’m getting at is, why haven’t you done this yet?”

“Done wh—” before he can finish the question her lips are on his. Soft and sweet, and they they taste like red wine, and it’s more perfect than he ever could’ve imagined.

When she pulls back she’s terrified that she’s misread the situation and ruined their friendship forever.

But he’s just staring at her with nothing but pure adoration.

“I didn’t know— I didn’t think— you like me?” He asks, his voice is so soft and sweet.

“I love you Spence” she says it with such conviction and his heart almost bursts in his chest.

“I love you too” he rushes out and then his mouth is on hers again.

This time it’s more feverish, hungry and excited to make up for lost time.

She leans over closer to him and he pulls her tighter against him, placing his hand on the underside of her bare thigh. He can’t believe this is really happening.

Moving against him, her hands splayed out against his chest she pulls back for a moment and looks down at him with half lidded eyes.

“Bedroom?”

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #mgg smut #mgg imagine #mgg blurb #Matthew gray gubler smut #Matthew gray gubler imagine #Matthew gray gubler blurb #Matthew gray gubler x reader #blurb #blurbs #fav

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agent-whiskeys-sweetheart · 3 years

Text

Meant To Be (ii)

Pairing: Hotch x F!Reader

Summary: Over a year after your first interaction with the BAU, it is finally time for your first day as an official team member. Even with all the excitement of the day, the biggest thing you look forward to is seeing Aaron Hotchner again. However, your perfect first day quickly turns out to be not at all what you had imagined.

Warnings: None, some angst?

Word Count: 5,585

A/N: Just know that I promise things are going to get better lol.

NOVEMBER 2007

QUANTICO, VA

For the first time in your life the sound of your alarm is a very welcome one as it rouses you from your light slumber. The whole room is filled with light as the sun streams through the cracked blinds. You had been in this apartment for two months now. It had taken some getting used to but it was starting to feel like home. That was very important to you seeing as Quantico was where you were going to be for the foreseeable future. It took you no time at all to sit up in bed, throwing off your blanket. When you got up to start getting ready, everything was exactly where it was supposed to be. Your clothes draped over the chair at the end of the bed, your go-bag on top of the dresser, and your entry paperwork out on the kitchen table. As always, you had thought out every minute detail. You are determined to make sure that your first day at the BAU is perfect. It had taken excruciatingly hard work and dedication to get to where you are now. Nothing and no one is going to spoil it for you.

After getting dressed in record time you grab your go-bag off the dresser and head out to the living room. You set it on the table next to your paperwork and make your way into the kitchen. Scrambled eggs and toast sound like a good way to start the morning so you get out a skillet and a few eggs. Before you even have a chance to turn on the burner the sound of your phone going off in your bedroom causes you to run back in to check it. As you pull it off the charger you immediately smile widely at the name that flashes on your screen.

“Hey there Miss FBI Agent. God, that sounds good doesn’t it? FBI agent. Or maybe BAU agent. Didn’t I hear you say SSA once? What does that mean? Is it good? It sounds pretty powerful.”

“It means Supervisory Special Agent. And anything you call me that means I’m not hallucinating this whole thing is fine with me.”

“I like that. SSA Y/N L/N. Sounds official. Which is exactly what you are as of today! How are you feeling right now?”

“Excited. Prepared. Kind of like I’m on top of the world.”

“As you should! It’s been a long journey to get here, you deserve to enjoy every step. I still can’t believe my little sister is in the FBI.”

Your sister has been your biggest support system for as long as you can remember. No matter what path you choose, you know she will always have your back. It had been heartbreaking to leave her when you moved but you knew it would be worthwhile in the end. Today is when it finally pays off. She has called you almost every day so even though you are states apart, she is never truly absent. Hearing her voice now, getting the chance to share this moment with her, is more important to you than you know how to express.

“I can’t believe that you’re awake before noon.” This earns a scoff.

“I will have you know that I set an alarm for 5:30 so I would be awake in time to tell you good morning before you head off to work.”

“That’s very sweet of you. I’m really glad you called.”

“Hey, there’s no way in hell I was gonna miss your first day!”

“I appreciate that. It means a lot to have your support.”

“Of course! I will always give it freely. Besides, this is too cool not to talk about. You get to catch bad guys. You now have special government access. Plus you can basically read minds. You’re a real life superhero. How totally awesome is that?”

“Oh, I know. Why do you think I wanted the job? I’m glad you’re able to see its merits. Most people find it very morbid. Or boring.”

“Well most people aren’t us.” Glancing over at the clock, you can’t help a small sigh from leaving your chest. Your sister of course catches on. “Do you have to go?”

“Yeah. I only have about 15 minutes. Thank you so much for calling though! I always look forward to hearing from you.”

“Well I don’t have any patients today and I expect you to call me later tonight so we can talk about everything, okay?”

“Okay, it’s a plan. I love you.”

“I love you too. Have a great first day.” You hang up quickly, making your way back into the kitchen to put away what you had gotten out. Instead you pull out a few granola bars to eat on the way. Even though this isn’t quite what you had planned you don’t mind one bit. Talking to your sister is more important. You briefly wonder if she took today off just so she could be there for you or if it is just a coincidence. If it was on purpose, you wouldn’t be surprised. It had always been kind of funny to you what careers both of you had chosen. She is a therapist. You are a profiler. While the two do have distinct differences there are also a lot of striking similarities. It’s just funny how life works out sometimes. Never what you expect.

You head into the bedroom to grab your go-bag, making sure everything you need is in there. Picking up the paperwork from the table, you head out the door and downstairs to your car. After loading your things up, you turn on the radio to the most uplifting station you can find. This is the kind of morning where nothing less than radiant positivity is welcomed. It’s the first day of your new life and you are going to make the most of it, even if it kills you.

The drive seems to go by in an instant and soon you find yourself in the parking lot of the BAU headquarters. There is still confidence bubbling inside of you but seeing the building right there in front of you causes the nerves to kick in as well. It seems so much bigger to you now. With a deep breath, you realize you need a little boost from your good luck charm. The small compartment on top of your dashboard opens with a click and you pull out the piece of paper inside. It feels good to have in your hands and you read the name at the top over and over again. Aaron Hotchner. His business card had stayed in your car all these years and whenever you felt nervous or unsteady, you pulled it out and for some reason it always calmed you. You were grateful to have it now more than ever.

Feeling renewed, you set the card back in its cubby and get out of the car. Things in hand, you stride right up to the front doors and let yourself inside. Once inside the main lobby you head over to the front desk, where a man asks for your ID. Reaching into the front pocket of your go bag you pull out the badge you had collected weeks in advance. A feeling of power washes over you when he clears you, much like a year and a half ago when you had stepped inside the Fort Worth precinct. However, it was a much more intense feeling now.

The journey towards the main offices of the BAU feels like a dream. The elevator carries you to the right floor and you float towards the glass doors that lead into your new workspace. Inside, it is bright and full of life. People move past you with such fluidity that it seems almost like a dance and baby, you are ready to tango.

Soon your attention is being commanded by a friendly voice you recognize very quickly. “Well, look who it is!”

Morgan makes his way towards you, a wide grin on his face. He looks just how you remember. You are glad the first person to greet you is someone you know. Now standing in front of you, he raises his arms and his expression changes as he silently asks for your permission. With a nod, you reach out as well as he pulls you in for a hug.

“It’s nice to see you again sweetheart. I was starting to wonder if you were ever gonna show up.” Laughing lightly at this, you feel yourself relaxing. “Look at you, all professional. How does it feel?”

“Completely liberating. It feels like it took me a lifetime to get here and now that I am, I can’t wait to get started.”

“Well, you’re gonna get your chance sooner than you think. We just got a case this morning. They called us in a little early to debrief us. We’ll fill you in on the jet. It’s go time baby.” He lightly pats your arm with a smile as he leads you over to where the rest of the team is, all sat at their desks. Spencer and JJ you recognize but there’s one face that you haven’t seen before. “Look who finally made it.”

JJ stands quickly to give you a hug, patting your back. “Leave her alone. She was doing a lot of hard work to get here. She doesn’t deserve to be teased in her first ten minutes on the job.” She says to Morgan, shooting him a playful glare. “Welcome. We’re really excited to have you here. You’re going to make a wonderful addition to the team. If you ever need anything just let me know, okay?”

“I will. Promise. Thanks.” Spencer is the next to stand, extending his hand to you. Taking it in your own, you nod respectfully. You don’t linger, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

“Hi. Sorry, I’m not much of a hugger.”

“Oh, no need to be sorry. I definitely get it. It’s nice to see you again. I know we didn’t really get a chance to talk the last time we saw each other but I’m hoping to change that now that we’re coworkers.”

“Of course. I would like that.” There is still a slight awkwardness in the way he smiles but not nearly as much so as when you first met him. He’s the only one of the three that you don’t feel much of a connection with but you are determined to change that. These were your peers now. Your new family. It was important to you that you get to know all of them. It was jarring at first seeing how familiar they are with you already but it doesn’t take long for you to become comfortable as well. However you quickly remember that there is one person you still haven’t met. Turning to her, you extend your hand.

“Hello. I’m Y/N L/N.” She shakes your hand.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Emily Prentiss. These guys seem to have the advantage here. How do you all know each other?”

“Oh, I shadowed them about a year and a half ago now while I was still a student. Today is my first day as a member of the team.”

“That’s wonderful! Well, I’m excited to get to know you as well.” She offers a welcoming smile, one you appreciate. As you look around the bullpen you take note of the fact that Elle is nowhere to be found. At the moment you feel it isn’t your place to bring this up, so you simply smile at the people who are with you now.

“So, I hear we’ve got a case.” You begin, desperately wanting to learn everything you can now so you can fully prepare yourself.

“Yeah,” JJ answers. “It’s a string of high level armed robberies in Los Angeles. Nobody has been able to identify or apprehend any of the unsubs. There are five of them. All of the robberies were almost identical except for the last one. Someone was shot and killed. That’s when the authorities invited us to work the case.”

“Sounds like fun, huh?” Derek chimes in, jabbing you with his elbow.

“I don’t know if fun is the right word. Interesting sounds better, I think. I’m ready to get started though.”

“Yeah, I see that,” He gestures to your go-bag. “Good thing you’re all packed. That was a smart choice. They don’t always tell you to bring a bag on the first day. You’re all over it though.”

“Well, you only get one shot at a first impression. I wanted to be seen as professional. Plus I am very rarely unprepared for things.”

“Good. That’s a pretty good philosophy to hang onto, especially in this profession. The more prepared you are going into it, the better equipped you are to handle the stressors of the job. There’s a lot of tough things you’re gonna have to deal with but if you charge head first with a clear sense of where you’re going and what you’re doing, it’ll take a lot of the anxiety out of it.” You listen intently as he speaks with a tone of sincerity you have not yet heard from him. When he sees you staring at him, he chuckles. “First tip is free but next time I’m gonna charge you. Good advice like that doesn’t come cheap.”

“Okay, good to know.” You laugh, looking towards the others with a smile. “How about you guys? Any free tips for the newbie?”

“Yeah,” Emily chimes in. “Don’t listen to anything Morgan says.” This causes him to roll his eyes jokingly. “Although here’s a real piece of advice. No matter what happens, no matter how hard the job gets, don’t forget who you are. Don’t let this work compromise your beliefs and your morals. There are going to be times when you rethink what you know but don’t let the awful things you see harden you and turn you into someone you’re not. I can already see that you have a real light and kindness about you. Never let the bad people take that away from you or else they win.” Hearing this, your expression softens. For only having known you for a few minutes, Emily already seems to have bonded with you. Enough to give you such important advice. Her words linger in your head for a moment.

“I’ll definitely remember that.” JJ places a hand on your arm.

“Can I add something?” You nod eagerly, wanting to soak up all of the knowledge that you possibly can from these people. “My advice would be to talk to your loved ones as often as you can. Trust me, you’ll definitely want to after some of the stuff that we see. Talking to someone outside of work and grounding yourself in those relationships will help keep you sane. You’re going to be really grateful for a strong support system later on.”

“Luckily I do have a really strong support system in my sister. She basically raised me. She’s my best friend. It was hard to leave her but I know she still supports my decision.”

“That’s so great. I’m really glad you have someone like that.” You nod, feeling a small tinge of sadness when you think about how much you wish she was here with you. However, it passes quickly when Morgan puts his hand on your shoulder as a sign of comfort. The gesture is simple but calming, almost as if he’s telling you that he is a part of your support system now too. You know the people surrounding you will have your back. That thought lifts your spirits immeasurably.

“What about you? I’m sure I could get some good advice from a genius.” You say to Spencer after clearing your throat.

He chuckles lightly and thinks for a moment. “I guess I would say don’t let your age stop you from reaching your potential. You and I are the same age so I think I know to some extent how nerve wracking all this must be. Just know that even though you are young you have a lot of skills and abilities to bring to the table. Chase after what you want and soak up everything you can now. I’m obviously a strong believer in the collection of knowledge so the more you learn the better off you’ll be later. And you have as much right to be here as anyone else. You’ve done the work so believe in your own skills.” The three of you watch him for a moment and he looks between you. “But, hey, what do I know.” His joke makes you laugh.

“No, that’s really good advice. Thank you.” Before you have a chance to say anything else, a voice from behind causes all of you to stop.

“What’s all the commotion out here?” Turning around quickly you see an older man with dark hair standing on the walkway that wraps around the bullpen. His eyebrows are raised as he begins making his way towards you. Upon seeing him you put on your best professional face but the others seem to stay relaxed as he walks over to you. Once he’s standing next to you he offers you his hand. “Hello.” You take it quickly, shaking hands with him as you maintain eye contact. Unsure of who this man is, you are afraid to make a bad impression. As you look into his eyes there is something so strikingly familiar about him but you aren’t quite sure what it is. “Who might you be?”

“Sorry, sir. I am Y/N L/N. Today is my first day as a member of the BAU. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” His dark expression immediately lightens as he gives you a small smile.

“Ah. It’s nice to meet you as well. Sorry to scare you. I just have to keep these trouble makers in line from time to time.” Seeing him smile causes you to grin as well, beginning to relax again.

“Of course. It’s not a problem at all sir.”

“Well I’m David Rossi. Welcome to the BAU, I guess would be an appropriate introduction. I promise I’m not always so scary.”

“Just most of the time.” Derek adds, causing David to give him a look.

“Please ignore him. I like to think I’m a nice man. I don’t want to scare you off on your first day.” At this you can’t help but laugh.

“Oh trust me sir, you won’t. I’ve worked really hard to get here. There’s no getting rid of me now.” This causes him to laugh.

“That’s a good attitude to have. It’ll get you pretty far in this career. Keep working, keep putting the bad people away. It may take a while but it’s a gratifying feeling. In the meantime, just keep your chin up and you’ll be just fine. You seem like a bright kid.”

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate that.”

“Please, you can call me Rossi. Everyone else does.”

“Okay. Rossi. Thanks.” With a warm smile he pats your arm.

“If you want a prime example of working hard to get ahead, look at Hotch. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that man not at work. That’s why he’s the boss.” Derek says. His words make your breath hitch. Just the mention of his name makes you nervous. It’s been such a long time since you’ve seen him and you only spent time together for one day but even so he has been such a huge inspiration to you. And seemingly for good reason. You already know that Hotchner is going to be the man to impress around here but you don’t mind that much.

“Speaking of, have you spoken with Hotch yet today?” Rossi asks.

“No. I actually have some paperwork that I need to give to him before we leave, clearing me to travel and all of that. Could I possibly see him now?” You try not to sound too desperately hopeful.

“Yeah, of course. His office is right up there.” Rossi points to a door across the room. With a deep breath you nod in gratitude and then begin making the walk over to his office. It seems like an endless journey as you remind yourself over and over again that he’s just a person and you don’t need to be so afraid. Or nervous. Excited? Infatuated? Whatever the feeling is, it’s overwhelming. Once you’re outside his door, you close your eyes and breath before knocking. His voice is clear coming from the other side as he tells you to come in.

Opening the door cautiously, you step inside with paperwork in hand. Hotch is sitting at his desk filling something out, not looking up.

“Good morning sir.” Upon hearing your voice he looks quickly up at you. His eyes are just as dark and intense as you dreamed, fixated completely on you. The two of you maintain eye contact for a moment and the world is nothing but him. Suddenly realizing what you’re doing you force yourself to snap out of it, reminding yourself that this man is your boss and you’re acting like a lunatic.

“Good morning.” He says simply, not moving as he watches you intently. Willing yourself to gather up all of your confidence, you walk over to stand right in front of his desk.

“It’s really lovely to see you again. Being here is like a dream. At the BAU, I mean. I’ve been looking forward to it for so long, I almost can’t believe that I’m here. Now that I am though, I’m ready to work. I plan to earn your trust now just like I did the last time we worked together. I won’t let you down.” With a sudden flush of embarrassment, you grip the papers tightly. You have only been in his office for a few seconds and already you have completely exploded in excitement. Taking another breath, you calm yourself. “Sorry sir. I’m just very excited to be here. If you couldn’t tell.”

There is another moment of silence as Hotch’s eyes stay locked on yours, scrutinizing your expression with calm intensity. For a second you can almost see him thinking, as though he’s working something out in his head though you aren’t quite sure what that is. After a moment he stands up, putting you both on equal footing. Everything about him commands your focus and attention. A quiet prayer hangs on your lips as you wait for him to say your name again after all this time. Just once is all you need and then you’d be happy. No more daydreams, no more delusions, no more distractions. Just once and you can do your job. If only he’d quit staring at you so deeply and tell you exactly what you want to hear.

“I do appreciate your heartfelt words ma’am but I’m afraid I’m at a loss. I’m not sure I know who you are.” With that your heart drops. Of all the things he could have possibly said, this was the most disappointing. It’s such a small sentence but it is a mighty blow.

“I’m sorry?” You inquire, hoping that maybe you misunderstood.

“I’m really very sorry ma’am but I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not sure we’ve ever met.” Nope, you had understood what he was saying perfectly much to your dismay.

“My name is Y/N L/N sir. We did meet a little over a year ago now. You came to my hometown to work on a case and I spent the day shadowing you. I was a student at the time. Today is my first day here as a team member.” Hotch says nothing in response for a time, his expression exposing what seems to be a deep sense of regret.

“I apologize. We go through a lot of cases, it’s difficult for me to keep track of all the people that come and go in my life.” That is all you need to hear to shut down any further fantasizing. You had come and gone from his life a long time ago. Frankly you feel foolish for indulging these thoughts anyway. It was one day a year ago. There is nothing to look into. He is your boss now, not some high school crush. This is a professional environment. This would be for the better anyway. At least those are the sorts of things you tell yourself. “I really don’t mean any offense. It’s nice to meet you. Needless to say we’ll get to know each other now since we’ll be working together. Welcome to the team.” He tries to soften his expression but there is still a severity to it that doesn’t ease the knot in your stomach.

“It’s really my fault, sir. I shouldn’t have expected you to remember me. It was a long time ago and you’re a very busy man. No offense taken. I’m excited to work with you.” Trying to change the subject, you extend your paperwork towards him. “Here’s all of my entry paperwork. It gives me authorization to travel, my medical and professional history is there as well. All I need is your signature and I will be clear to begin working.” Looking through it quickly he nods before signing each of the necessary lines. He hands it back to you and you nod awkwardly before deciding to merely head towards the door. “Thank you sir. I’ll take this to the front desk really quickly and I’ll be good to work this latest case. I’ve already brought a go-bag.”

“Oh, you won’t be needing a go-bag.” This stops you in your tracks.

“I won’t?” You ask, turning to face him.

“No, you won’t. You’re not travelling with us for the case.” Every dream you’d had about your first day at the BAU is crumbling around you with every word that comes out of his mouth.

“Can I ask why, sir?” Leaning down to open a cabinet, he pulls out his own go-bag and unzips it to check its contents. This simple act of dismissal is enough to make you feel an inch tall.

“It’s only your first day, I don’t hardly know anything about you. I don’t feel comfortable taking an agent into the field that is practically a stranger to me and to the rest of my team. It will only compromise your safety and the safety of others. When I get back, we’ll have a discussion and see where you’re at when the next case rolls around.”

“But sir,” For a second your own words ring in your head. You’re the boss. No explanation necessary. You are not the kind of person that questions authority. You never have been and you thought you never would be but hearing your new boss say this to you makes your blood boil for some reason. It’s like Spencer said. You have as much right to be here as anyone else and you have not gone through seven years of grueling work to be put on the sidelines from day one. “I have studied and trained for a long time. I put in the work, the same as the rest of you and that’s why I’m here. I didn’t just show up on accident, it’s because I’m good at what I do. I have all the paperwork and I am prepared to put in the effort on this case.” His movements have stopped now and his eyes stay locked on yours, unable to look away as you speak. Once you’re finished he breaks away and sighs deeply.

“I am not disputing any of that but I am responsible for the safety of my team and now that includes you. It would make me feel much better if I could talk with you before sending you to the front lines. I’m on your side here even if it doesn’t seem like it. But at the end of the day I am your boss and I have final say. The answer is no. I want to like you, Y/N. Don’t give me reason to distrust you on your first day.”

“Yes sir,” Is all you are able to mutter as you feel yourself deflate. “I didn’t mean any disrespect.” The shift in your demeanor must have been palpable because his expression suddenly softens and a hint of a smile ghosts over his lips as he walks over to you.

“I know you didn’t. I’m sorry to disappoint you but you’ll have your chance soon enough.” With that, he grabs his bag and walks out of the office. In no more than ten minutes all of your big hopes and dreams for your perfect first day at the BAU were crushed. Everything has been happening so fast that it still seems like it might not be real. It’s all you can do to walk back out into the bullpen. Derek is the first one to notice your mood shift.

“What happened?” With a forced smile you shake your head.

“I’m not going to be joining you guys. The boss doesn’t feel comfortable letting me into the field just yet. I guess it makes sense.” Hearing this, Derek, JJ, and Spencer all three share a confused look.

“It actually doesn’t make that much sense. If you’ve got the paperwork, you are clear to go in the field. Everything should be in order. I’m not sure why he would wanna keep you behind. You’ll learn more in the field than you will sitting here.” Emily and JJ nod in agreement and you shrug off his questioning.

“It is what it is. I’ll just have to make the most out of it.” You quiet down but he can see that there is still something upsetting you.

“Okay, come on. What else happened?” The expression on his face is one of determination as he stares you down, waiting for an answer.

“It’s nothing really. It’s just that he didn’t remember me and I was a little disappointed. That’s all. It’s not really a big deal.”

“No, that is definitely a big deal. Hotch is not a forgetful man. Especially when it comes to people. If he worked one on one with you a year ago and he knew you were going to be a future member of his team, he would have paid especially close attention to you. That just definitely doesn’t seem right to me.” As much as you agreed with him you decided now wasn’t the time to push the issue.

“Well, I’m sure he just had a lot on his mind. It doesn’t matter. Anyway, good luck guys. I’ll see you when you get back.” The look on Derek’s face indicates that he wants to continue the conversation but he doesn’t. The three of them grab their go-bags and head to the door. Following them you smile when Derek gives you a side hug.

“We’ll all go get a drink when we get back. I promise.” You nod.

“I’ll hold you to that.” Before he can walk out the doors with the others you stop him. “Hey. Thanks. I know we still don’t know each other that well but I appreciate you making me feel welcome.”

“No problem, kid. You’re one of us now. We have to protect our own.” With one last smile he disappears through the main doors. Stepping out after him you stop when you see Hotch standing right outside the doors. With a small breath you walk over to him.

“You’ll be working with our technical analyst, Penelope Garcia. Go down to the bottom floor. Her office will be the third door on the right when you get off the elevator. She’ll introduce herself. She’s very friendly. We’ll speak when I get back.” With that, he too disappears.

In little more than thirty minutes, your perfect day is ruined before it has even really begun. Thoughts spin inside your head faster than you can comprehend. It feels like your fault for letting your expectations get so high. There is no way of erasing it. No matter how many good days you have from here on out, your first day at the BAU will always be a sad memory. It hadn’t been all bad of course. It had been nice to talk with the other team members for the short time that you had. However, that feeling was quickly ruined by your interaction with Hotchner. He was one of the main reasons you were so excited to begin working. You were sure that he would have some inspirational words of advice for you but all he had done was make you feel belittled. There was no way of taking that back. Now you were side lined for your very first case and it was completely out of your control. You really wish you had your good luck charm right about now. Something tells you you’re going to need it now more than ever. The Hotch that exists within that business card is the one you want to linger in your memories. The respectful and professional agent who had made you feel so respected and appreciated. That is the Hotch you need right now but that isn’t the man you’d spoken with today. That is what broke your heart more than anything. With one last longing look at the main doors you gather yourself up and head down to meet Penelope Garcia.

Tags: @talesfromtheguild @lannister-slings-and-arrows @gamingaquarius @gryffindorwriter @nopeforyou @sheerfreesia007 @roxypeanut @ssahotchie @ohpedromypedro @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @readsalot73 @the-mechanical-angel @races-erster @maxlordd @pascalisthepunkest @paintballkid711 @hotchafterhours @h0tchner @ssahotchswife @ssahotchhner @technotic-prophecy @klinenovakwinchester @hotch-stufff

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badgirlcovenrep · 3 years

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The Goddess' Blessing (of a daughter)

Chapter One

(NOTES: the raylla adopts Tiffany fic everyone's been asking for

this is going on AO3 once I get home from my sister's but I wanted to post here first. If you'd rather read it there follow me and I'll post once it's officially in there.

Obs: Tiffany is six in this. Mostly because I wanted to write our witch moms carrying their baby and canonically she's like ten so..... and she's also like severely traumatized. We'll get to the healing soon enough though.

+ Edwin is the best papa. And Scylla has p much already adopted this kid, she just doesn't know it yet.

It's half past six p.m when their train screeches to a halt at the Chippewa station. In all the chaos of the last couple of weeks, Scylla hadn't realized Yule was well on it's way. It is still mid November, but the station has been prematurely decked in civilian Christmas decorations, and almost every wall and corner twinkles in golden speckles and fake pine.

Tiffany had been dozing in and out of sleep on the bench next to her, holding tight to her stuffed parrot as well as Scylla's coat sleeve with her restless small hands that spasmed in pure energy even as she slept. Since coming back from Nicte's mission, Scylla had been in a frenzy to get everything ready for their trip, and Tiffany had followed her around the (no longer safe) safe house, clinging on to her attention with wide blue eyes. She'd always liked kids. Before everything happened Scylla even used to babysit for dodger families.

It was never a lot of money, but she appreciated the levity and humor kids carried. They had hope Scylla prayed she could one day get back. Hope that could only come from the fleeting innocence of childhood. But even then, Tiffany was special, she still had all those wonderful, bright things, and she carried them in bulk, spilling out of her tiny little hands for anyone to see.

Yet she was also touched by things so horrible Scylla sometimes shuddered awake in the dead of night, when her mind conjured up terrible nightmares of being in her place. Of being squeezed into a tiny cage, fed dog food, strung up on a stage as masked psychopaths snickered and passed around stones bigger than fists. It showed, sometimes, in how every once in a while her expression became somber and reserved. How she stopped mid-sentence, and Scylla could see the glint of tears in the corners of her eyes.

It reminded her of Raelle - Raelle, who'd sat in her bed just yesterday and snacked on the stupid expensive popcorn her mother had bought - Raelle, who also carried so much darkness behind her strong, steady demeanor - those were the parts of her Scylla couldn't help but want to protect, and as a result, those feelings also extended to Tiffany. Scylla lost a lot of people in her life, and she'd decided the day she found the child's parents that she would do whatever it took to keep her safe. Just like she wished someone might have done for her. Because that sort of hidden, desolate pain could just as well transform itself into something entirely awful if exploited the right way.

People around her start getting up from their seats, reaching to the compartments for their luggage, there aren't many of them making their way up North this time of year but they still fill the cart in humming conversations, deciding on what to do next or where to get dinner. Scylla takes this as her cue to skim her fingers through Tiffany's hair, gently nudging her awake, "Hey, T, wake up, we're here."

The little girl sits up, bleary eyed, and yawns, looking around at the commotion, "it's already Christmas?" She asks, catching a glimpse of the boisterous decorations set up outside.

"Not yet, no." Scylla chuckles, getting up from her seat to retrieve their own bags - they had everything the two could think to bring, and yet were still not much. A duffel bag for Scylla and purple backpack for Tiffany, with unicorn stickers and colorful buttons sewn to the front. Scylla had retrieved it, along with some toys and clothes, from the girl's home, "People just love decorating early."

"Oh." Tiffany quips, as Scylla helps her fit her arms into the straps of her backpack, then takes her hand in a steady grip once they are done, pulling the young girl towards the door to leave the train, "The lights are pretty!" She exclaims happily, blinking in wide eyed wonder.

Outside, November has definitely made itself known, and Scylla is glad they are both warm in their coats as the wind bites her cheeks until they turn a dark blush. She looks around for Edwin, not sure she'll recognize him from the pictures she'd seen Willa scatter around the house, but still willing to try.

For a second, in that moment, she thinks this might not have been a good idea. When Scylla agreed to it, she'd admittedly not been in her full faculties, brain too preoccupied with seeing Raelle again after so long to completely comprehend what she'd been offered.

After everything that happened, she can't help but be a little nervous to meet the father of her ex (?), the same girl she still very much loved. The girl who had run back to her in that dark forest a day before and clung onto her face until all they could breathe was each other.

If she thought too much about it, Scylla could still feel the soft, almost painful impact of her lips as Raelle knocked her off her balance and breathed fire into her chest like molten lava. It'd been so long, she almost forgot the kind of power Raelle had when she kissed. Like she was always on the verge of tasting your very soul. Their whole day back together before was so very delicate and tentative, air fizzling with electricity like the tension of a bow, pulled tight with an arrow ready to shoot.

The time they've been separated her heart was squeezed tight under an elastic band. Whenever she stopped to think, even for a minute, she could feel it taught, so very strained, reaching from the very inside of her ribs. It was there from the very start. The tightness was what propelled her diaphragm into breathing Raelle in that very first night they spent together, even if she knew she shouldn't, and then, it was what kept them orbiting around each other like their very own solar system. Never too far apart. Always wishing to be closer.

When they kissed in the clearing, hairs messy with the wild strumming of the bat just a few feet away, for the first time, she felt like the band released. The invisible string, so very tight, loosening from under her heart to extend around the both of them and wrap them in what Scylla could only describe as exhilarating, shaking relief. The touch of Raelle's cotton gloves, that she never thought she'd feel again - the taste of her lips, like blood and rain droplets and a mouthful of just her.

It left Scylla running on a high since she walked away from Raelle just the day before, in the early hours of the morning.

It's not how she hoped she'd meet Raelle's dad. Deep down, no matter how much she tried not to, Scylla had imagined herself, more than once, coming to the Cession hand in hand with the blonde fixer. In love and together, going home to meet the parents. It's bittersweet to be here with Tiffany instead, and she has to squeeze the young witch's hand slightly to ground herself from the urge to run.

To just take the child's small body in her arms and run- leave the station in lieu of a cheap motel, one with vending machines, where they could hide from the world a little longer.

When the witch looks down, however, Tiffany smiles reassuringly back at her, squeezing her hand slightly in return, and Scylla can't help the wave of affection that washes over her.

"Excuse me? Are you Scylla and Tiffany?" A voice coming from behind wakes them back from the moment, and when they turn, both come face to face with Edwin Collar.

Scylla's sure it's him. If not because he does still look quite a lot like the pictures she's seen, then because the necromancer can definitely see the telltale signs of Raelle written all over his face. It's mostly there in the kind drop of his eyelids, and the way his mouth creates tiny wrinkles of soft skin when he smiles, but it's there, nonetheless.

"Yes, we are, nice to meet you, Mr. Collar." Scylla greets, settling down her bag to shake his hand.

"Of course, it's amazing to finally meet you. Raelle talked you up a storm," he declares, chuckling proudly, "only good things, I assure."

"Oh, I'm sure I don't deserve that." She let's out, hoping it sounded more playful than it feels for her.

"Nonsense. You seem like a kind girl." The man decides, with a solemn nod, before turning to Tiffany, "and you- Tiffany, I'm very happy to have you with me this week as well, I'm sure we'll have lots of fun together."

"Thank you, Mr. Collar." The small blonde replies, half-hiding herself behind Scylla's pant leg.

"Let's go then. It's getting cold." Edwin finally declares, taking Scylla's bag from the floor without a question. The girl goes to complain, but he cuts her off before she can - "and don't fight me on this. Raelle also never let's me carry her bags, for once I'd love to help."

Scylla still wants to protest. Mostly because she feels that they have already asked so much - and she doesn't quite deserve the kindness - but he seems sincere, so she nods instead, and with the affirmative, all three begin their way to the parking lot.

"Is Raelle your friend?" Tiffany asks innocently, skipping happily over her boots.

"Uh- she- yeah, I guess you could say that."

"Well, you said we were going to a friend's dad's house." Tiffany notes. "Where is Raelle then?"

"About that-" Edwin stops in his step, "did you see her? How is she?" He asks, an uneasy tension settling over his demeanor as he studies Scylla for answers, "they told me she was alive but that was it-"

"She's okay. I saw her yesterday, she was well." The brunette assures, and that seems to send a wave of relief over the man, who breathes deeply before continuing their walk along the various cars.

"Oh, thank goodness." He sighs, "when those people took her I thought- I'm so glad she's okay."

"Yeah. We were all worried." Scylla declares. And this, she can relate to. The way he cares so much for Raelle, it spills into the very movement of his expressions. It's familiar, and it warms her heart. She decides right then that she likes Edwin.

"Did the bad people take Raelle too?" Tiffany questions, frowning in scared surprise as they reach Edwin's old truck.

Scylla sighs, not having revealed much of the mission she'd gone on the day before. She knew it'd be scary for her. Tiffany was still very much traumatized, and rightfully so, after everything she'd been through. But Tiffany was also very smart- and observant. She'd catch up eventually and Scylla feels stupid for not dealing with this before coming.

"Yeah. They tried to hurt her, but me and her other friends didn't let them." The necromancer assures, as she helps the girl into the backseat and clicks in her seatbelt, "she's okay now. We're all safe here."

"Oh- Okay." Tiffany nods, but Scylla can see the doubt shining under her eyes.

Scylla wishes she knew what to say, but words fail her, so she squeezes the girl's hand reassuringly once more, winking in what she hopes is humorous solidarity, before closing the door.

***

Raelle's house is just like she imagines- small, rustic - surrounded by a thick canopy of trees and bushes. It reminds her of the places she used to stay with her parents, scattered over random cities all over the U.S. Scylla likes it.

"It isn't much, but we always have warm dinner and pancakes in the morning." Edwin quips, humbly, as he leads the pair of witches to Raelle's room, "you can stay here. Hope it is comfortable."

"This is more than enough, Edwin." Scylla smiles gratefully, "it's too much, really. Thank you for letting us stay."

"Nonsense." He waves his hand with a half embarrassed chuckle, "It's good to have people here again. After Rae and Tally left everything feels a lot quieter." Scylla nods in agreement, as the man turns to leave the room, the two witches inside watching him carefully, "You guys should change and rest a bit- I'll call you for dinner.

Scylla thanks him, and waits until the door clicks behind his back to turn her attention to the luggage that had been settled over a random chair. The room is filled with so much Raelle, she can't help but notice the letters, pictures, memories and song lyrics, glued to every single wall, from a time before Fort Salem, before them.

The blonde used to leave notes on her dorm walls back at Fort Salem. Lots of silly things like "I'll be back after training" or "You fight people in your sleep. It's cute.". Scylla wonders if they are still there or if they've been taken by the army when she was captured. It doesn't matter anymore, the necro realizes, and she shakes her head in an effort to bring her attention back to the room.

"You should put on some pajamas." Scylla says toward Tiffany, who sat, grievously quiet, at Raelle's bed.

She looked thoughtful, in a way regular six year olds don't quite show unless they have to go through way too much. Her small, bright eyes hide barely concealed darkness as she shifts her looks everywhere but at the older witch.

Scylla sighs, finding this place - this relationship - so very painfully familiar. She'd been the scared little girl last time, feeling so very small and alone. And now, as the adult, she was definitely going to try her best not to fuck it. As difficult as it might be. The world didn't need another suffering witch.

After a few minutes of silence, Scylla realizes she was not going to get an answer, so she opens the girl's backpack and fishes out a pair of mermaid themed leggings and t-shirt, along with the small bag that carried her tooth and hair brushes along with some other toiletries. Scylla places the items by Tiffany on the mattress, kneeling in front of the young witch and studying her clear, soft little face.

"Hey. Are you feeling alright?"

"Are the bad men coming here to hurt us?" Tiffany asks, instead of a response, and Scylla frowns in worry.

"No, of course no-"

"They came and took Raelle too." Tiffany notices, tears escaping from her eyelids that Scylla dries up with her thumb, "and they hurt Miss Willa, the other kids' at the office and my mommy and daddy. What if they come here again? What if they really hurt us this time?" As the questions stumble out of her mouth, sobs begin to wreck across her throat until she's shaking, ever so slightly, with the force of her tears and heavy, panicked breathing.

Scylla sighs and rises from the ground to cuddle the girl close to her chest, squeezing tight until she can feel Tiffany's little arms squeeze her back. Scylla's afraid too - most of the time, if she allowed herself to be honest - Ever since watching Raelle leave her in that cell the year before, the girl could feel even more perfectly the path of death and destruction that marked their (the witches') way through the world.

One of the bad things about being a necro - Death didn't like not being known, and it showed itself insistently, to anyone able to notice.

"We don't know whether or not they'll come again." Scylla ends up responding, sincerely, as she squeezes her arms even tighter around the little girl, "but I won't let them hurt you, you hear me? I dealt with them before, I can deal with them again."

"No" Tiffany shakes her head, frowning up at her in teary-eyed fear, "You too. You're safe too. I don't want you to get hurt either."

"Hey." Scylla forces out a chuckle, trying to lighten up the situation for the young witch's sake, "don't be silly, ok? I'm pretty much invincible."

Tiffany doesn't laugh, her breathing having somewhat returned to normal. The girl just stares back at Scylla with a seriousness that's all too unfair, coming from a six year old, and she reaches out, her pinky finger lifted in expectation, "Pinky promise you'll be safe too? Please?"

Scylla knows she shouldn't. The truth is, she doesn't know what will happen. After their plan to capture Nicte was said and done, Scylla barely had any idea what she would be doing now. But Tiffany obviously needs the reassurance, from the way she stares ever so desperately at the necro's face.

"Okay, I pinky promise." Scylla smiles, trying to convey some calm toward the other girl as she let her pinky link with the smaller one. It seems to work, as Tiffany's expression softens and her tense posture falls, "now let's get you under a shower and into some pajamas, ok? You're a very smelly little witch right now."

"Am not!" Tiffany replies, and Scylla can't help but full on laugh this time, pulling the small girl to Raelle's bathroom as she mockingly protests.

Second chapter is almost done, just needs to be read over for mistakes. For C2, Raelle calls home, Scylla meets old dodger friends and she also has an important conversation with Edwin.

Hope you guys enjoyed!

#motherland fort salem #scylla ramshorn #raelle collar #raelle x scylla #motherland: fort salem #raylla #taylor hickson #amalia holm #mfs tiffany #tiffany mfs

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sugarsugarmoon · 3 years

Text

Hallway Run-In

Summary: Your friend Jimin gets a new roommate, and you can’t help yourself from looking at him. neighbors to lovers!au. college!au.

Pairing: namjoon x reader

Rating: Mature

Genre: smut and fluff

Warnings: vague mention of recreational alcohol use, protected sex

a/n: This is for the Secret Admirers collab with @heartsforbtsnet. I wrote this for @honeyj00ns, the beautiful magical butterfly. I hope you like it! It’s not edited or anything...oopsie!

WC: 3260

You are in a hurry as you are leaving your apartment, throwing your bag over your shoulder with a wild swing before you grab your latte off the counter. You’d taken the time to go down to the cafe downstairs this morning, and you are now slightly regretting it because you didn’t factor in enough time to get ready and get off to class.

You fling open the door, fumble with your keys before finding the right one to lock the door. You whirl around to power walk down the hall when you are met with a solid wall of human.

“Oh fuck!” you exclaim as the warm liquid from your cup splashes into your face and down your blouse.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” you hear a deep voice say.

You aren’t looking up at the figure because you’re just staring down at your now soiled blouse. You didn’t factor in enough time to get a latte, let alone to change your entire outfit. You sigh heavily.

“Shit, shit. I’m sorry,” the voice says again.

You look up, mostly angry at yourself. “Just watch where you’re going,” you snap.

“Oh...yeah...okay.”

There’s a defiance in his voice, like he knows as well as you do that it was no less than half your fault, if not more so. You take in the figure in front of you, and your jaw immediately drops. It’s no wonder that it felt like you were walking into a wall. He stands at about six feet tall, his shirt straining over his pectoral muscles and his biceps. His honey skin is nearly flawless, and his eyes seem like they could look directly into your mind and see your thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh. “I’m just in a hurry.”

You pick up your keys off the floor and unlock your door. As you are slipping into it, you hear, “I was Namjoon” from behind you.

You change quickly into a clean t-shirt and run out the door. Once you sneak into the back of the lecture and plop down into a seat, you have a moment to reflect on the interaction you had with the man in the hallway. You feel the embarrassment starting to fill you again.

You hadn’t ever seen that man around the apartment building before, and you weren’t sure if he was just visiting or if he lived there. You hoped he was just visiting since you spilled coffee on him then snapped at him like it was his fault. You finally force yourself to focus on the lecture, but your mind keeps wandering to his perfect skin and the faint appearance of the dimples in his cheeks. You shake your head and start to write notes about the chemical compounds that the professor has put on the board. You curse yourself slightly for taking the Introductory course this far into your studies, but you needed a lab science to graduate.

After your classes are over for the day, you hurry home, the heels of your booties clacking on the sidewalk with each step. You secretly love the sound because it makes you feel powerful. You know that soon the biting wind will start to swirl around, knocking the leaves from the trees. Currently though, the sun is shining, illuminating the reds and yellows with spots of green still in the branches.

Back in the lobby of your building, you see your next door neighbor, Jimin, at the mailboxes, struggling to get his key out of the keyhole in the small metal door. He grunts slightly. You’ve always thought that Jimin was painfully attractive, like a fairy or an angel that you didn’t have permission to look at. It almost hurt your eyes. You decide to grab your mail and talk to him.

“Hey Jimin, do you need help?” you ask, as you faking casualness and sliding your key into the lock.

He sighs and turns, and upon seeing your face, he smiles. “Oh hi, yn! No...I think I can get it.”

You giggle at the small grunt that comes out of his chest. You slide the envelopes out of your box and lock it back up. Jimin continues to struggle, and you decide that you can’t just leave him like that, with the key stuck in the lock.

“May I?” you ask

He steps aside and sighs. You close the box because he’d been fighting with it while the door was open. You wiggle the key slightly, then you hear the click of the tumblr. The door locks, and you can’t help but smile. You slide the key out with a gentle jiggle. You hand it over to Jimin with the smile still spread across your face.

“Of course,” he sighs again. “I had a new key made because I gave my new roommate the original, and the new key is just sticking so badly.”

“New roommate?”

“Oh yeah! You should come meet him sometime!”

The two of you walk to your apartment after making dinner plans for the following day. Jimin insists that you don’t have to bring anything but yourself, but you know that you’re going to bring a bottle of wine with you. You’d never arrive empty-handed to a dinner party.

The following evening, you knock on Jimin’s door just after 6:00. The beautiful man opens the door, and he looks so happy that you’re there. You can’t help but smile when you’re around Jimin because his cheeriness is contagious. He throws his arms around you, and the two of you have a slightly lingering hug. You inhale deeply, smelling his cologne, then realize what you’re doing and quickly release him.

“yn, this is my new roommate, Namjoon,” Jimin says, stepping aside.

Upon hearing the name, you feel a lightheadedness come upon you. Your brain replies the “I was Namjoon” that you heard yesterday as you’d disappeared into your apartment. You try to keep your composure as you walk over to shake his hand.

“Oh! Hi, it’s you!” he exclaims as he takes your hand. “Hi, I’m Namjoon.”

You stare for a moment before your mouth catches up. “yn,” you blurt out, “is me.”

He laughs slightly, and you want to slap your forehead from the incredible awkwardness that is pouring out of you in this moment. Usually you carry yourself with confidence, trying not to let too many people see how awkward and dorky you actually are. But something about Namjoon just makes it impossible to hide.

Jimin had ordered dinner for the three of you, saying that neither him nor Namjoon are very good cooks. It makes you laugh because you would have been fine cooking for the three of you, but Jimin had insisted on providing dinner. You eat the pasta while the three of you chat and laugh. Once you loosen up a bit, you’re a little less awkward with Namjoon. You realize that you’re leaning closer to Namjoon and try to correct, but it just keeps happening.

A few times you think to yourself “is he flirting with me?” but you decide that he’s just a friendly, charismatic guy.

After dinner, you feel happy, full, but also light from the wine. You hug Jimin goodbye, and, when you turn to Namjoon, he’s holding his arms out to invite you in. You embrace him too. It feels right and comfortable. It’s much different being intentionally pressed against his firm chest than when you ran into it the day before. It feels like you fit perfectly in his embrace. Finally, you pull away, heat burning in your cheeks.

That night in the shower, you can’t keep the image of him out of your head. He held you in intellectual conversation about life and philosophy while also looking like a god. You wonder if Jimin is part of a club for unearthly hot men where he met his roommate.

You lie in bed, trying to keep your hands from exploring your skin to the image of him pressed against you. Finally, you give in and let your brain wander, feeling the heat wash over you. Your skin feels delicate and sensitive as you imagine the muscular figure on top of you, touching every inch of you. The pressure within you releases to the image of his face. Afterward, you feel a little embarrassed and tell yourself that you can’t do that again. He’s your nextdoor neighbor for goodness sake.

The next few weeks fly by with classes being in full swing, requiring most of your time to complete the work. You feel like you spend all of your time either in class or on your computer doing homework. You hardly even have time to get groceries, just living off of take out and the odds and ends in your fridge.

The leaves fall from the trees, and the air becomes crisp and sharp. You love this time of year because it means that Halloween and Christmas. For Halloween, you go to a party with some friends, and you see Namjoon and Jimin there with more of their unreal-looking friends. He’s dressed as a detective, with the trench coat and everything. You try to keep your mind from picturing what’s underneath the tight fitting white button up that he’s wearing with a skinny black tie.

Your friends catch you staring at him and tease you relentlessly for the rest of the night. You try to keep your back to him, so you don’t get caught looking again.

One night in November, you are lying in bed scrolling on your phone when you keep hearing what sounds like tapping at your. You check, but you don’t see anything. As soon as you climb back into bed, it starts again. You try not to think about it, but it keeps getting to you. Everytime you look, it stops. Then you go back to bed and it starts again. It gets into your head enough, that you start to panic slightly. You figure that you can go ask Jimin to just come hang out with you for a little while or something until you feel more comfortable. He’s done it before, and you know he’d do it again.

When you knock on the door, Namjoon pulls it open. He smiles at you immediately when he sees you. He looks as gorgeous as ever, with his glasses settled halfway down his nose and his hair swept back off of his forehead.

“Hi, yn!” he exclaims, and you are surprised by the enthusiasm.

“Hi, Namjoon. Is, uh, is Jimin here?” you ask, looking behind him into the apartment.

“No, he’s out tonight. A date. What’s up?”

“Oh. Okay. Nevermind.” You feel your shoulders fall slightly as you turn to walk away.

“Wait, yn, what’s up? You seem upset.”

“There’s just this sound I keep hearing. Sometimes Jimin will come sit in my apartment with me when I’m scared, since I live alone.” You shrug and try to turn away again.

“Well...I can come hang out with you. I’m just working on some stuff on my computer,” he says, an ingenuous quality to his voice that makes you feel comforted just upon hearing it.

“Oh! Well, yeah. If you wouldn’t mind just hanging out with me, that would be great.”

He agrees, disappearing for a moment into his room, then reappearing with a backpack slung over one shoulder. “Lead the way.”

You lead him into your apartment that is dimly lit with string lights in the living room. You realize that this is the first time that he’s probably ever seen the inside of your place. You tend to feel vulnerable when you let people into your home, so you don’t invite too many people that aren’t your close friends over.

You like to keep the lighting in your place soft, so you mostly use lamps and string lights. Your bedroom is a pink, pastel haven that people think is funny because you tend to dress in neutral colors, especially in the winter. You don’t think that Namjoon will be able to see your bedroom at any point. It’s not like you’re going to be inviting him in. But you still can’t help but think about the dirty clothes strewn across the floor.

You gesture for him to take any spot he wants on the couch, and he plops down.

“I like it in here. It’s so soft,” he says, turning to you with his dimples showing.

“Oh, thanks. I’m just kinda of a soft person, I guess.”

Your breath catches in your chest slightly, but you can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips when you hear it. You are just a big softy, but you don’t always show it. It feels nice to let Namjoon in a little bit.

You take your spot on the couch next to him, leaving some space between the two of you. You grab your phone and start scrolling again. He pulls his computer from his backpack, and the gentle tapping of his keyboard feels like music. You jump when you hear the tap outside again. You turn and look at Namjoon. He places his hand on top of yours, so you know that your eyes must give away how terrified that you are.

“Let me go check,” he says.

He gets up from the couch and goes to the living room window. You hear him hmmm-ing to himself as he looks out there, then you hear a sound of understanding.

“I think I found our culprit!” he announces to you and waves you over.

You cross the room to the window and lean out next to Namjoon. He has the flashlight of his phone shining down on a small bird’s nest attached precariously to the side of the building. There is a bird inside that was probably just tapping on the wall just below your bedroom window. You sigh in relief then start to laugh. You retreat back into your apartment, and Namjoon stands up fully next to you. You can feel the heat from his body with how close you’re standing.

He pulls the window shut and laughs with you. “See, nothing to worry about except a bird who didn’t get the memo to migrate.”

The two of you don’t move, just giggling and standing near each other. You look up at his face, and you realize how much his smile makes your heart sing. You feel a twinge between your legs and try to ignore it. Namjoon looks down at you, and soon he isn’t laughing anymore. The two of you just stand there staring at each other for a few moments, until he slides his hand around your neck, pulling you toward him. His plush lips find yours, and you wrap both of your arms around his neck, pull yourself even closer. Your chest presses against his.

Your mouths move together, then he slips his tongue past your lips, exploring your mouth gingerly. You gasp at the bolt of arousal that shoots through your body. He pulls back from you, his eyes searching your face.

“Crap. I’m sorry, yn. That was impulsive. You’re just so gorgeous when you laugh,” he says, eyes cast just behind you, not making eye contact.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” you whisper as you move upward to his lips again.

The hesitation in his mouth dissipates, and he wraps his hands around your waste, gently rubbing the fabric of your shirt with his thumbs. You press yourself against him, letting your fingers lace into his hair, tugging at it slightly. You push your tongue into his mouth this time, and your tongues dance together, exploring.

He slides his hand up inside your shirt, the soft skin of his palms exploring your back and sides. You moan slightly as your hair stands up on end from the contact. You pull a couple of soft pulls on his hair again, and he presses his groin against you. You can feel the bulge through his pants, and you can’t help the arousal that is now coursing through your body.

You pull away from him and ask hesitantly, “Would you want to...uh...go to the bedroom?”

He presses a soft kiss to your lips and nods. You lead him by the hand into your dimly lit bedroom, kick aside your discarded outfit from earlier. The two of you make your way to the bed. You push him down onto his back, and you straddle his hips. Your lips start to explore each other again, and you press your core against the hardness in his sweatpants. He grabs your shirt and tugs it over your head, so you do the same to him, eager to see what the bare muscles of his chest look like. You are not disappointed at the taut skin that covers the bulges on his chest and arms. You admire it for a moment before you return to kissing.

Things move quickly from there. All of your clothes are off, exploring how each part of your naked skin feels against his. and you feel like you don’t care if it’s too much too fast. He’s so attractive, he’s hard, and he’s kissing you. That’s all you could ask for. You lean over to the drawer in your bedside table and pull out a condom.

You hold it up and ask, “Do you want to?”

Once again, he smiles at you and nods.

You slide down between his legs, holding the tip of the condom and rolling it down to the shaft. You look up at him and smile a sly little grin before you lean over him and spit on his hard cock. You rub the spit in, making the whole thing slick, then repeat the same motion. He throws his head back as you stroke his cock. You do this a few more times before you crawl back up on top of him, positioning your entrance above his erection.

You slide down slowly, letting yourself take the time to adjust. Once you’re accustomed to the sensation and the stretch, you start to roll your hips, sliding up and down his length. You moan as his cock hits the most sensitive places inside you. You ride him until you can feel his cock twitching inside you.

“yn, I’m gonna…” he starts, his hands reaching up and grabbing your hips firmly.

His hips buck up against you, and you feel his cock twitch as he holds you down on his cock. You roll your hips in a small circle once he lets go, watching his abs tighten and relax as you do it. He falls back, panting slightly, and you giggle. You dismount from him. As he starts to soften, he slips the condom off and ties it.

“Where should I…?” he asks.

You take it from him and put it in the trash can. You smile and snuggle into his chest.

“yn, next time, I promise to make you cum a bunch before I do since I didn’t get you there this time,” he says as his thumb rubs gentle little patterns on your cheek.

“Oh, so there will be a next time?” you ask, grinning up at him.

“I certainly hope so,” he says nervously. “I really like you, and that was a lot of fun.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” you say as you wrap your legs around his, getting comfortably snuggled in against his naked frame.

“So much,” he whispers as his lips press against your forehead.

#secretadmirers21 #heartsforbts #btswritingcafe #btswritersguild #ksmutclub #bangtanarmynet #namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #rm x reader #rm smut #bts fanfic #bts smut

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echo-hiraeth · 3 years

Text

Chapter 8: Agente Peña

Part of the “Ilicit Limerence” series

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Summary: The reader comes to terms with the downsides of pregnancy and confides in Connie. Javier decides to spend some more time at home, taking his work with him.

Warnings: swearing, angst, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, nudity, mentions of sickness/vomiting

Masterlist

Previous chapter

Next chapter

Everything you knew about pregnancy you learned from watching television and so you’d expected the sickness and the glowing hair. But the migraines? Those were something you didn’t prepare for, your last week off work started out hunched over the sink, the nausea and continuous pounding in your head making you shiver.

It was just around noon now and you’d fought Javier over the phone, insisting you didn’t need a babysitter. He told you he’d head to your place on his lunch break, just to make sure you were okay. There was no stopping him, no amount of telling him off could change his mind.

He noticed it before he left this morning, the way you sat up a bit more in bed, eyes squeezed shut as you desperately tried to fall back asleep, telling him all he needed to know. But as soon as he offered to stay home with you another day, you pushed him away, rolling over on your side and just turning your back to him, literally. At the office he had to fight off the urge to call you every other minute, stomach in knots with worry. Was it normal to be that sick? He’d have to read up on some of those books Steve had been rambling about. Steve – that was the other thing, the tension was fucking horrid. He wouldn’t even look at Javier, just throw down the next folder on the desk. Javier was sick of it at this point, lighting yet another cigarette as he thought about how to go about this.

“I know we had.. words, but can we at least work together, like partners?”, he asked, puffing out a cloud of smoke.

“I’m sorry man, didn’t mean to be an ass, the girls just kept me up all weekend”, Steve sighed, reaching for the bottle of whiskey in the bottom drawer. “Con wouldn’t shut up.”

Javier shook his head slowly, taking another long drag of his cigarette. “I don’t fucking get them sometimes. One moment she’s practically begging me to stay with her and the next she’s just doing everything to get away from me.”

Steve quirked a brow at him. “Trouble in paradise? So soon?”

“I just want to check up on her, but she’s just so fucking stubborn”, he grunted, putting out the cig.

“Why don’t you take the paperwork home tonight, skip lunch so you can head home earlier.”

He looked at the phone, wondering if he should call to see if you needed him. “You’re probably right. She just drives me crazy man, in a good way, but still just crazy.”

His partner chuckled, knowing exactly what he was on about. He’d stay at the office another couple of hours and would bring the casefiles home.

A part of you had expected him to show up, a part of you really wanted him to be there, hands on your back, telling you it’d all be okay. You knew it wasn’t that big of a deal, just the morning sickness and headache kicking your ass as of right now. But you were too tired to deal with any of this, the dull aches of all your bruises and sore muscles not allowing you to get much sleep. You figured a warm shower would help, dragging yourself into the small bathroom, stripping yourself of your clammy and dirty clothes.

You put your hand under the stream, jerking it back when the water was ice cold. Shrugging a robe over your shoulders you sat down on the toilet seat, waiting for the water to heat up. It was well past one now, which meant any possibility of a lunchbreak visit was off the table. You got up again, only to find the same exact thing; freezing cold water. Not that you couldn’t take care of yourself, but you were no expert plumber. With a heavy sigh you made your way over to the landline in the living room, dialling up the landlord’s number, only to be met with his answering machine, over and over.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. You knew Connie worked parttime now, wanting to be home with Olivia more often, so you tested your luck and called the Murphy’s.

“Murphy.”

“Con, I’m sorry to bother you on your day off, but my shower broke and I’m all alone and I just feel so miserable and-“

“Shut up and get your ass over here”, she chuckled, Olivia babbling away in the back.

You smiled to yourself, already shrugging your robe off. “Dinner’s on me!”

A bag with a change of clothes and some snacks for the little one was all you brought with you. You had no trouble navigating through the busy streets and soon found yourself parking in front of the infamous apartment building. The days of sneaking out of the back entrance in the mornings were past you now. You sighed at the memory, feelings of guilt and shame now replaced by bliss and adoration. It wasn’t perfect, it didn’t have to be, but you were content.

The walk to Connie’s apartment seemed longer than ever. With shaky knees and heavy breaths you dragged yourself up the stairs, the elevator still out of order. You were lucky to have some friends here, it wasn’t often DEA agents had the privilege of keeping their friends from home, but Steve and Connie had made it abundantly clear that they were here to stay, Bogotá or not. They’d been there for you through the years as had you. You’d even been promoted to maid of honour at their wedding, and were put in charge of her hen party. The states were good times, but Colombia had been tougher on the three of you. While you and Steve had no problem leaving your families behind, Connie had proven to be rather close to her parents. That’s where you had come in, sweeping her out of her mellow state whenever she needed it to take her out into the city, dancing the night away. However, with you being pregnant and herself a new mother, it had become something of the past. Soon girls’ night would have a whole let alcohol and whole lot more diapers.

Connie opened up with a heartfelt smile, a giddy Olivia bouncing on her arm. “Towels are laid out for you, we’ll talk after.”

You smiled back at her, grateful for her understanding. She was the kind of friend that just had to take one look at you to know what was wrong and while it was really helpful sometimes, but God was it hard to keep a secret from that woman. It wasn’t hard to tell you were feeling like shit, your pale face and fading black eye were enough of an indicator. You kissed Olivia on the forehead, side-hugging Connie before heading to the bathroom.

With how tired you were, you didn’t even bother to conceal your injuries, even applying some loose powder had seemed too intense a task. You turned the water on, the warmth of it already fanning over your bare arms. When it hit your chest and stomach you let out a sigh of relief, the cold shivers finally faltering. You took your time, now that you weren’t on the verge of puking your guts out. You washed your hair twice, even conditioned it before moving on to the rest of your body, exfoliating and rinsing, just treating to yourself. By the time you wrapped the fluffy towels around yourself you were completely relaxed, ready to just hop into the bed and pass out for the day, but the wailing outside the door reminded you exactly where you were. You’d brought a long sweater, the evenings getting rather chilly mid-November. With half-dried hair and in some baggy jeans you stepped out of the bathroom, joining the two ladies on the couch.

“Thank you”, you muttered, slipping your hands around the cup of tea that was waiting for you on the coffee table.

“What’s got you down in the dumps?”, she asked, carefully sitting the baby down on the carpet.

You sighed, blowing at the hot drink. “I-I think it’s just registering now..”

She gave you a frown, scooting over a bit closer. “Do you regret it?”

The tears were burning in your eyes, a dull ache settling in the back of your throat as you tried to hold it together. “I’m terrified”, you breathed out.

That was your breaking point, the floodgates were open now and you were a sobbing mess as she wrapped her arms around you. “Oh hun, you should’ve called me”, she cooed.

While you and Connie talked about anything and everything, getting it all out, Javier was finishing up to go home early. Steve decided to stay back at the office, wanting “some damn peace and quiet”. With some casefiles in hand he left the embassy, stopping along the way to pick up one of your favourite snacks. Tonight would just be a slow night, he’d listen if you wanted to talk and if not he’d just work in silence. He really just wanted to have you close, so that he could personally ensure you were “fine”. He hated the way he’d left this morning, the way you were just curled up into yourself, shivering under the covers, but he didn’t want to get on your nerves, he was so scared to screw things up.

Treading up the steps to your apartment, he tried to think of something to say. He couldn’t help but feel guilty, you were sick because of his baby after all. Surely there was something he could think of. Your apartment was eerily calm when walked in, your heaps of blankets and pillows still there. He tiptoed his way over to the bedroom, heartbeat picking up a bit when he noticed you weren’t there either.

“Anyone home?”, he called out, checking the bathroom.

No reply. He scratched at his chin, contemplating what to do next. You did mention wanting to meet up with Connie over the weekend. Yeah, that seemed likely enough, no reason to panic (just yet). He sped his way back downstairs, panting due to all the climbing action and hopped in the car, heading for the other apartment complex. When he spotted your car he could breathe normally again, his worries somewhat soothed. His knock at the door was a loud, demanding one. Connie opened up once again, laying a finger on her lips so as to motion for him to be quiet. Javier stood there out of breath, nodding frantically before he stepped inside. And there you were, asleep on the couch with Olivia in your arms, a blanket sprawled out across the two of you.

He caught his breath, nodding at Connie as a way of saying thanks. She bumped her shoulder into his, smirking as she detected a hint of a smile on his lips. “She been here a while?”

“An hour or two. She came because your boiler broke, but turned out she really just needed to talk as well”, her voice was laced with a tone of sympathy as she nodded in your direction.

“Did she eat anything?”, he asked, not looking from you.

Connie shook her head. “We had some tea and then she fed the baby, they were both out soon after.”

They both chuckled at that, Javier planting his hands on his hips. “I’ll take her back to my place in a bit, so you can get some rest as well.”

“You’re always welcome, especially if she’s gonna put Liv asleep like that”, she joked, softly patting the man on the back.

“Is she err- is she okay though?” It was a dumb question, but he still felt compelled to ask it, counting on the fact that she was your best friend.

Now it was Connie’s turn to sigh, her head tilted as she answered him: “She’s really scared, just sit down and talk with her from time to time. I know it’s not your strong suit but she’s gonna need it.”

“Let me get my place cleaned up and I’ll come get her, sound good?”, he offered.

The blonde just nodded again. “Make sure to change those sheets, preferably not ones Freckles has seen.”

He flipped her the bird on the way out, heading down a floor to go clean up his own apartment. He hadn’t been there since you’d come back and honestly.. he preferred it that way. That apartment stood for everything he’d decided to give up on for you and he absolutely despised it. It was as if the small space was the embodiment of his bad persona, haunting him everywhere he went. But he found it too soon to discuss such heavy subjects and did not want to jeopardize his relationship for the life of him.

Even just opening the door brought back those feelings of disgust and self-hatred, but he tried to push past it as he made his way into the kitchen. He wetted a washcloth and laid it in the fridge, should your migraine come back. Next he made his way over to the couch, where he gathered all the old cigarettes and empty beer bottles, shoving them into a trash bag. Along the way he picked up the clothes scattered across the floor everywhere and found himself in the bedroom, ripping the sheets off the bed. You’d been complaining about being cold at night, putting your icy feet all over him. So he got out the thicker sheets, putting them on as neatly as he could. The bathroom was clean enough, so he decided to lay out some of his clothes for you to wear. He ran back down to get everything from his car and when he was ready he went back up to the Murphy’s place. You were still sound asleep, lips perked as Olivia’s hand held on to your thumb. Connie was in the kitchen chopping some greens.

“You here to steal her away now?”, she jested.

“I’m here to give you back your couch”, he retorted.

She carefully picked up the baby from your chest, peeling her little fingers of your thumb, which made you stir a bit. Javi took a knee by your side, pressing a tender peck to your temple before gently shaking your shoulder.

“Hermosa, it’s time to go home”, he whispered, caressing your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

You hummed a bit, not really giving away at his request. So he decided to slide his hands under your knees and neck, lifting you up off the couch himself. He’d expected some resistance but you really only nuzzled into his neck even more, his warmth and smell drawing you in. Connie held the door open, smiling at the two of you as he carried you out of the apartment and down the staircase. He mentally thanked himself for leaving that damn door unlocked, managing to open it with just his elbow. Once inside he laid you down on the couch, covering your chest with his jacket. You were slowly waking up again, he’d noticed, so delved into his cupboards, setting down a tray of cookies on the coffee table. He sat down in the armchair, grabbing the first folder of the stack.

You blinked a few times, feeling a bit confused as to what was going on, but as you found Javier sitting across from you, reading over something, deep in thought as he picked at his moustache, you didn’t really care.

“What time ‘s it?”, you mumbled, stretching your arms out over your head.

He closed the folder, leaning back in the chair as he looked at you. “Somewhere around five by now. Sleep okay?”

“Mhm, you’re back early”, you remarked, yawning as you sat up a bit more. “Should I be worried?”

He got up off the chair, plopping down next to you. “Just wanted to check up on you.”

You leaned in to kiss him, which he gladly reciprocated. “I meant to call.”

“Gave me a bit of a fright. Crazy girlfriend on the loose”, he taunted.

You poked him in the ribs, squinting your eyes at him. “I’m sorry about being snappy this morning”, you whispered.

He kissed you again, successfully shutting you up. “Want some dinner?”

“I’d love that actually”, you beamed pressing your lips to his.

“Eat some of those”, he suggested, pointing towards the tray on the table, “Quesadillas alright with you?”

You were chewing away at a cookie, covering your mouth as you gave him a thumbs up. He chuckled, getting up to start on your dinner as you sat back. “I’ll be there in a sec, Javi!”

The two of you had made dinner together, and taken it to the couch, where you fed him as he read out the details of the files. Due to your absence, you didn’t really know what had been going on with the cartel as of late. You sat there long after dinner was over, discussing the new developments regarding Pablo’s “surrender” it was absolutely ridiculous and the government was giving him exactly what he wanted.

“No point in getting so worked up over it, amor”, you purred into his ear.

He heaved out another heavy sigh as his eyes glazed over the paper yet again. “I just don’t understand how they accepted this, it’s a fucking set up.”

You took the papers from his hands, throwing them onto the coffee table with the rest of them, pushing him back against the couch. “Why don’t we do something else, huh, blow off some steam.”

“Are you sure you’re up for it, we don’t have to”, he assured you, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“Let me do something nice for you”, you tutted.

He shifted beneath you, eyes a couple shades darker already, laden with lust and want. “I-I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold back, hermosa, you’re playing a dangerous game.”

You knelt down in front of the couch, looking up at him with big, innocent eyes. “I’m well aware of what I’m getting myself into, agente Peña.”

Fuck – that little nickname, he felt himself twitch beneath his jeans, desperate for some friction. “Do. Not. Tease.” He gritted out, two fingers hooked under your chin to make you look up at him.

His belt came off first, the metal of the buckle hitting the carpeted floor with a thud. Four hands fumbling around with the waistband of his jeans. You giggled a bit at his eagerness, finally dragging the restrictive trousers down his legs. His tented briefs made you lick your lips, fingers hooking themselves into the elastic. “What do you need, baby?”

“Mouth, now, please”, he stammers out, chest already heaving with expectancy.

You wrap a hand around his throbbing members, squeezing it just the way he likes it. His head falls back against the pillow, mouth hanging open a bit. Ever so slowly you lick along his shaft, paying special attention to the dripping head. He lets out a guttural grunt, biting back another one as you engulf him with your warm mouth. Nothing – no-one ever did compare to you, the way you worked your tongue nothing short of entrancing.

He wouldn’t last, the delicious pull and shove of your mouth and hands had him hurling towards his orgasm. He’d dreamt about it, seeing you down on your knees, just for him, just to please him. Fuck, it was so hot, even better than he’d imagined. He balled his fists, trying to resist the urge to manipulate your head with them. On the verge of his release, he flinched, grabbing a hold of your arm.

“Espera, para, para, para..”, he called out.

You leaned back on your heels, lips glistening with your dribble. He leaned forward, rubbing your chin and helping you up. “Something wrong?”, you asked with a slight frown.

“I want to fuck you”, he growled, practically ripping your sweater off of you.

His mouth latched onto your heavy breasts, eliciting a sweet moan from your throat. “Be-bedroom”, you whined, grip on his biceps tightening.

He tapped, your thighs, imploring you to jump up. Your legs wrapped themselves around his hips as his hands squeezed your ass. The journey to the bedroom was a passionate one, you swallowed his grunts as you merged your lips with his again, fingers tangling in his dark brown hair. He dropped you on the bed, immediately following suit, sucking and biting at that one spot on your neck. You gasped at the sensation, fumbling around with the button on your own jeans as he made his way down to your chest. One of his hands slid down to help you, the other supporting his weight next to your face. His tongue swirled around your nipple, making you arch into him.

“Tan ansiosa”, he hisses as he feels your jeans rub up against his erection. (So eager.)

You shoved your jeans down your thighs, rolling him onto his back to get them off all the way. With your panties still in place you went to straddle his lap. He quirked a suggestive brow at you, moving up against the headboard to sit up a bit more straight.

“You sure about this?”, he asks, mouth pressed against the nape of your neck.

You grab his face in both your hands, sliding your tongue across his bottom lip. “Paciencia, agente Peña.”

He gasps as you grab a hold of his cock, pumping a few times before sliding your panties to the side and sinking down. You rest your forehead against his, hissing as he bottoms out. He gripped at your ass, squeezing to keep himself contained. He loved having you on top, but seeing how long it had been since he’d gotten the chance to be this close to you, he was hungry for more.

“Move”, he demanded, one of his hands smacking your behind.

You let out a loud moan at the sensation and slowly started circling your hips. He watched you through hooded lids, head thrown back with that beautiful neck on full display. He started sucking there, making sure to leave his mark as you sped up your movements.

“F-feels so good”, you whimpered, bracing yourself on his chest.

He smirked against your skin, hands moving up to cup and play with your breasts. It was pure paradise, the fine line between pain and pleasure driving you completely insane. Your mind was ridden of any thoughts, there was only this, you and him, loving on one another. He noticed your panting and jerky movements, you were getting close. Pure lust made him do it, flipping you over so he was towering over you, still sheathed in your deliciously warm heat. He felt like he was on fire when he looked at you, cheeks flushed and glowing, biting on your lip as you touched yourself.

“Mírame”, you opened your eyes, his thrusts becoming harder and faster, “I want you to see what you do to me.”

You whimpered at his words, fighting off the incite to screw your eyes shut. It was then that he hit that spot inside you, making you cry out his name. His hands found yours, holding on to them as he rocked into you, hips smacking against yours. You couldn’t help yourself and let out a string of high-pitched moans as he embedded himself even deeper.

“I-I..”

“I got you, me too baby, me too”, he reassured you, giving a curt nod.

You nearly screamed when you hit your peak, clutching onto his shoulders as you arched up off the bed. Your nails digging into his back was all he needed, he grunted out your name as he filled you up, catching himself before he collapsed. The two of you laid beside each other, breathing heavily, one pair of hands still entangled. You felt like you’d been hit by a train, sheer exhaustion washing over you.

“Stay here”, he whispered, pecking your cheek.

He came back with a towel and washcloth, sitting down on the edge of the bed as he carefully cleaned you up. You just sleepily smiled at him, stroking your thumb back and forth over his knee.

“That was fun”, you murmured.

He huffed out a laugh, looking down at you while he slid your panties off. “Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head, sighing contently as he tucked the covers over your torso. “You were perfect, Javi.”

It was his turn to smile, resting a hand on your side. “We can stay here until your shower gets fixed”, he proposed.

“Thank you. I’ll call again tomorrow, I just want to lay in your arms for a bit”, you whispered.

He walked over to the other side of the bed, barely laid down before you curled up against his side.

Perfect – he thought – she thinks I am perfect.

Taglist: @pedritomando @peterhollandkait @ophelia-ingenue @radiowallet @phoenixhalliwell @diogodxlot @rosiefridayrogersunday @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @asta-lily

#illicit limerence #javier peña x reader #javier pena #narcos #pedro pascal #imagine

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let-the-dream-begin · 3 years

Text

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 30: Family

Chapter 29

Read on AO3

November 27th

Jamie felt a flutter of excitement as he rang the doorbell to the Abernathy home. It was the Sunday after Thanksgiving, and neither doctor had had the day off on Thursday. Claire had mentioned they’d done exactly this last year. Claire had casually asked if Jamie wanted to make a pie or pick one up, and he’d stared at her, bewildered.

“Ehm...fer what?”

Claire eyed him as if he’d asked what color the sky was. “For Thanksgiving?”

“Oh! I...thought ye spent it wi’ Joe’s family...”

She blinked at him like he had two heads. “Yes. And you’re coming.”

And that was that.

This was a big step for them as a couple, as a potential family, and Jamie knew it. He knew better than to make a big deal out of it to Claire, but that simple assumption that of course he’d be celebrating with Claire’s adopted family had made him fit to burst with joy. The next day, Jamie had texted her:

speaking of holidays and families, how do you feel about spending christmas with mine?

She’d replied hours later, likely during her first break of the day:

I’d absolutely love to.

So they were there now. They were officially bringing each other “home for the holidays.” Well, Jamie’s family was coming here to avoid putting Faith through air travel, but still. If somebody had asked Jamie last Thanksgiving or last Christmas if he’d ever imagined this, with her, with them, he’d have told them they were crazy.

That morning, they’d gone to see Moana. The local movie theater did half-priced tickets before noon, and the movie had come out the day before Thanksgiving. Jamie had told Claire that he and his family always went to the cinema on Christmas Eve and Boxing Day; since the closest one to Lallybroch was an hour away, it was a special occasion. Claire had immediately lit up, declaring that they had to go on Thanksgiving. Rather, their makeshift Thanksgiving. Claire had never actually brought Faith to the movies before, but the place was empty aside from one other family, so it was perfect. She was in heaven. She was absolutely enthralled by the hugeness of the screen, the colors, the music. They’d sat near the front in the wider aisle where the railing was, meant for handicapped viewers, so Faith could run around or lean on the railing, dangling Horsie over the edge with her mouth agape. Claire had bought the album on iTunes on the way home, anticipating that Faith would want to play the music all day, and she’d been right. Jamie already knew almost every word to “How Far I’ll Go.” He wondered if it would hold up against “Let it Go” for Faith, but only time would tell.

A gust of November wind brought Jamie back to the moment, and the front door opened to reveal Joe, white teeth flashing against his dark skin in a radiant grin.

“Ah, there he is!” Joe enthusiastically clapped Jamie on the shoulder with one hand, and shook Jamie’s hand with the other. “It is so good to have you here, Jamie.”

“Hello to you too,” Claire said wryly.

“Come on, I see you all the time,” Joe said. At that moment, Faith slipped right out of Claire’s grip and bounded inside, humming loudly and flapping her hands wildly.

Claire rolled her eyes at both Faith’s escape and Joe. Jamie watched with amusement as Gail appeared at the end of the hallway and exclaimed in surprise as Faith barreled into her.

“Sweet Jesus!”

Joe ushered Jamie, Claire, and Angus, leash held by Claire, into the house.

“Well it’s nice to see you, crazy bean!” Gail said, laughing, and Faith disappeared into the living room. “Dee-Dee! They’re here, and Faith is looking for you!”

Jamie handed off the pie (that he’d made from scratch, of course) to Gail, and insisted on helping her finish with the hors d'oeuvres and the drinks. Faith darted about, in and out of the rooms, until the pitter-patter of little feet coming down the stairs had her running back into the hallway. By the time all the adults were settled with finger foods and drinks, Delia and Faith were already in the corner of the room, engaged with dolls and a little house. Even Faith’s Horsie was involved in the game, of course.

“They did this last year too,” Claire said as they sat down on the couch. “We got here and Dee-Dee had a whole spread. It was adorable.”

“She does it every time she knows she’s coming over,” Gail said.

“Aye, I remember her at Faith’s party; she’s a sweet one,” Jamie said fondly.

“Thanks,” Gail said.

“And that one got so big!” Claire exclaimed, looking at Lenny, sat in his own corner with a tablet. “Last Thanksgiving he still looked like a baby.”

“Four years old, you believe that?” Joe said, shaking his head.

“Oh, I believe it,” Claire said, eyeing Faith. “They grow too fast.”

“Oh my gosh, Claire, I never even asked.” Gail said, putting down her drink. “Faith started school!”

“Yeah, she did.”

“You were scared shitless,” Gail dropped her voice to a low whisper.

Claire chuckled. “Yes, I certainly was.”

Jamie put his hand lightly on Claire’s knee, and she took it, seemingly without thinking about it. They laced their fingers together with practiced ease, and Jamie squeezed.

“You mentioned at work the first day went okay,” Joe said. “How’s she been since then?”

“Really good, actually,” Claire said. Jamie could feel the warmth of glowing pride radiating from her. “She stopped having any bathroom problems, finally, and she hasn’t had to call home or either of us at work in a while. Which is good, because it’s hard when I’m at the hospital or if Jamie’s with a client...but I think we’re finally past that.”

“That’s great,” Gail said.

“I can tell she still doesn’t really love it. It’s a bit of a fight to get her on the bus after a weekend or a break. Monday should be really fun,” she rolled her eyes, “but she’s doing it. She’s getting her stickers when she earns them and prizes and after school treats.”

“Claire is doing all the right things,” Jamie cut in. “It’s hard to motivate her sometimes, but as long as she’s on the bus in the morning, then we’ve done all we can do.”

“Right,” Gail said.

“Remember after Labor Day when she would not get on, no matter what I did?”

“Aye, I do. I had to leave the stables to try to get her on myself.”

“I couldn’t believe the driver waited that long.” Claire covered her face and shook her head at the memory. “If that never happens again, it’ll be too soon.”

The adults shared a quiet laugh.

“I see she’s got a communication device now?” Joe said, gesturing to the tablet resting next to Faith. “The school provides that?”

“Yeah,” Claire said. “She’s been getting more and more comfortable with it lately. She still signs for her basic needs, and Mummy, but she loves being able to say ‘Angus,’ and all your names, and Gillian’s name, and Jamie’s. I don’t want her to lose the signing, but this is a great additional tool.”

“Yeah, of course,” Gail said. “I saw that video on Facebook that you posted, when she first figured out the ‘Mummy’ button.”

“Oh, yeah,” Claire smiled fondly at the memory, and so did Jamie. When it had first clicked for Faith that there was a word on her device for every sign, she could not get enough of saying “Mummy,” calling out to her beloved mother in a brand new way. “She did the same thing to Jamie the next time we saw him.”

“Over and over,” Jamie confirmed. “It was sweet.”

“Until the third hour,” Claire said, and Jamie could tell she was only half-kidding. He didn’t blame her at all.

Jamie was about to ask about how Delia was doing in school, how pre-k was for Lenny, when Joe spoke again.

“How are you guys?” He raised both of his eyebrows coyly. “I mean, it seems like it’s...going really well. Yeah?”

Jamie watched a blush creep up Claire’s neck and touch her cheeks with color. She flashed her eyes at Jamie, who felt warmth spreading from head to toe.

“We’re great,” Jamie answered, looking into Claire’s eyes and raising her fingers to his lips. “Really great.”

——

December 17th

As Claire approached the door to Jamie’s apartment, shopping bag and leash in one hand, Faith’s hand in the other, she heard a loud shriek from the other side of the door. Faith let go of Claire’s hand to clamp her hands over her ears, and Claire’s stomach dropped.

Off to a great start.

Claire was nervous beyond all reason to meet Jamie’s family. They’d gotten off the plane from Scotland two days ago, wanting to give themselves plenty of time before the holidays, and wanting to meet Claire and Faith at least once before then. Jamie decided on a little pizza party at his place.

Claire begged and pleaded with Faith to calm down, but she would not move until presented with her headphones. Claire sighed in defeat and put them on her. She knew deep down that Jamie’s family would bear no judgement on her in the slightest, but she really hadn’t wanted their first impression of her and her daughter to be flustered mother of an irritable daughter.

The door opened while Claire was still kneeling on the ground, and she looked up in a panic, relief washing over her to see that it was only Jamie.

“Sorry about that,” he said sheepishly. “Wee Jamie is a bit of an imp.”

Claire stood up, laughing nervously. “Oh, hi, sorry.” She tried taking Faith’s hand again, but Faith recoiled, reaching up to Jamie instead. Claire rolled her eyes upward, and Jamie grinned.

“Aye, alright, let’s get ye in out of the cold.” He obliged Faith, lifting her up and settling her on his hip, leading the way into the apartment. Faith rubbed her cheek against Jamie’s, delighting in the stubble, and Claire peered around Jamie to see the face that she’d come to be so familiar with but had never actually seen in person. Jenny was sitting on the couch feeding star-shaped puffs to a toddler, and the just as familiar Ian was holding a little boy over his shoulder.

“Everyone,” Jamie announced. “This is Claire. And this is Faith.”

Jenny launched herself off the couch and handed the baby off to Ian, who expertly handled holding both children at once.

“It’s great to finally meet ye, Claire,” Jenny said, throwing her arms around her in a bone crushing hug.

Claire started in surprise at first, but then returned the embrace. Her embrace was warm, soft and solid all at once, much like Jamie. She was wearing an oversized cream sweater, similar to Claire’s own white cable-knit turtleneck. “Hi, I’m so glad to finally meet you, too.”

“I’m Jenny, as ye probably guessed,” she went on, pulling away from the embrace, but keeping a hand on one of Claire’s shoulders. “That’s my husband, Ian.”

“Hallo,” Ian gestured with his chin in greeting. “This heathen is Wee Jamie,” he turned around to show Claire his face, given that his feet were previously facing her, “and this is Maggie.” He turned back around.

“Great to meet you, all three of you,” Claire said, laughing.

Just then, Claire noticed the man that had appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, smiling down at her. Everything about him was warmth, strength, and comfort.

“Claire,” he said, his voice deep and laced with the deepest affection.

“Hi,” Claire said sheepishly, her smile hurting her cheeks. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mister Fraser. Jamie speaks so highly of you.”

“Och, I’ll no’ have ye calling me that. Ye’ll call me Brian, Da, whatever ye’re comfortable with.” He stepped in toward her and pulled her in for a hug that was somehow tighter than Jenny’s. “Ye’re family, lass.”

Claire squeezed him back, this man she had just met, and tears pinpricked her eyes.

My family.

Brian pulled away and gripped her shoulders, looking into her face. “Christ, my heart’s full to see ye.”

“Let her breathe, Da,” Jenny chided. “Here, let me take this. And give yer coats to Ian.” Jenny took the paper bag of crisps and cookies in Claire’s hand like this was her own home and disappeared with it into the kitchen.

Ian put little Jamie down and pointed a threatening finger at him, and the boy grinned impishly as his father took Claire’s coat, then Faith’s, from Jamie.

“Hi!” he burst to Claire. “Are ye my Auntie now?”

“Oh, I…”

“Jamie…”

“Oi, why d’ye no’ play wi’ the Wii, lad,” Jamie cut in. The boy bounced with excitement, planting his bottom on the coffee table right in front of the tellie. “Quietly, now,” Jamie warned, setting up a game for him with Faith in his arms all the while. She refused to be put down.

“That’s her, then? Wee Faith?” Brian watched as Jamie shifted her to his other hip after finishing setting up Jamie’s game.

“Yes, that’s my girl,” Claire answered, pride warming her chest.

“Beautiful,” Brian breathed, beaming at her as Jamie approached his father. “Yer spitting image.”

“Thank you,” Claire said. She stroked Faith’s cheek, who was still rubbing her face and arms against Jamie’s stubbled jaw.

Brian hummed in amusement. “Willie used to do that to me,” he said. “It’s comforting to them.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” Claire’s eyes flicked nervously to Jamie, but he seemed alright. Perhaps they spoke fondly of Jamie’s brother often. She’d have to get used to that.

Jenny flitted back in from the kitchen and chided her brother for letting her son play with brain-rotting video games, but Jamie just rolled his eyes and sat down, Angus settling at his feet at attention for Faith.

“I didn’t even know you had a Wii,” Claire said, sitting down beside him.

“Aye, well,” he winked, “how else would I kick yer arse in Mario Kart?”

Claire snorted quietly and fought the urge to swat at his arm in front of his family. Ian sat down next to Jamie with Maggie, Brian sat on the leather recliner in the corner, and Jenny sat on the edge of the coffee table facing the couch.

“So! This is the wee lass I’ve heard so much about?” Jenny beamed at Faith.

“Aye, she canna hear ye just now wi’ these on; wee Jamie gave her a fright.”

“Och, I’m so sorry,” Jenny said. “I did try to explain to him — ”

“No, it’s okay. He's so young.”

“Aye, and a menace to society already.” Jenny rolled her eyes, and Claire chuckled. “I’m just grateful he didna make a run fer the dog. He retained that from our talk at least.”

She was obviously referring to the fact that when Angus was working, he could not be pet. Claire did catch a few longing glances at the animal from the little boy, but he was being very good.

After a few minutes, with Angus’s help, Jamie managed to coax Faith into taking the headphones off.

“There you go, good girl,” Claire praised. “She’d never take them off without Jamie here. He’s absolutely wonderful with her.”

“Aye, and she’s quite taken wi’ him as well,” Jenny said smiling at the way Faith was nuzzled into his neck.

“We’ve a…special bond,” Jamie said, his eyes twinkling. “Aye, princess?” He bounced her on his knee, and she giggled.

“Look, lass, this is Jenny,” Jamie said. “Can ye say hi?”

She buried her face further.

“She’s very shy,” Claire explained. “Strangers are a little tricky. But I promise the more she’s with you, the better it gets. Even Jamie was a scary stranger at some point. Right, lovie?”

Jenny and Ian laughed softly.

“I really appreciate you all coming here,” Claire said. “It can’t be easy traveling with little ones.”

“Och, ’twas nae bother,” Ian said. “Glad to do it.”

“We hardly ever get to see Jamie’s place anyway,” Jenny added. “We’ve only been to the Island…what, once or twice before?” Ian nodded in confirmation. “It’s nice to see the life he’s made here. And the stables are just great.”

“Aye, we’re very proud of the work Jamie does,” Brian cut in, the pride oozing out of his every feature.

“You should be. He’s…he’s got a special touch with those kids,” Claire said, unable to stop the heart eyes she knew she was giving Jamie. “He changes lives. I know he changed Faith’s, and mine for that matter. Even before, well…this.” She blushed, realizing she was rambling. Jamie reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze, likely sensing her embarrassment.

“Aye, well it’s good ye ken how lucky ye are,” Jenny said. “Ye’ll no’ find a better man than my brother.”

“Christ, Janet…” It was Jamie’s turn to turn scarlet.

“I’m being nice, Jamie! I could go on instead about how difficult ye are to live with…”

“Claire doesna need a speech about treating me right,” he said. “She’s doing just fine.”

“That wasna what I meant.”

But given the look that Ian shot her, that was indeed what she’d meant. Though a little uncomfortable, Claire did not blame her. Jamie was her little brother after all, and Claire knew by now how deeply he felt things, how sensitive he was. Somebody cruel could tear him to pieces.

“It’s okay,” Claire cut in. “I know what you meant.” She squeezed Jamie’s hand.

“Aye, good. Well, it’s no’ as if it doesna go both ways. When Jamie sent me yer Facebook profile, I gave him an earful about how damned lucky he was,” Jenny said, and Claire bit her lip to stifle a grin.

“Janet…”

“What! Ye’re embarrassed? I couldna very well meet her. No shame in sending me something to get to know her by!”

If Jamie could have melted into the couch, Claire was sure he would have.

“Jamie went on and on about ye last Christmas, ye and the lass both,” Jenny explained. Claire’s heart fluttered to think that his family knew about her all the way back then, when she was still so far in denial she couldn’t see past her own nose. “So I was bloody curious what was so special about ye. Didna take long to see it, I’ll say that.” She smiled fondly at Claire, her eyes twinkling.

“Well…thank you. I think.”

“What Jenny is trying to say,” Ian cut in. “Is that we’re glad ye’re here, and we’re grateful to ye fer the joy ye bring our brother. Both of ye.”

“Aye, cheers to that.” Brian lifted his whisky from where he sat and took a sip.

“You know,” Claire said. “I heard all about this little one after the holidays last year.” She looked around Jamie and Faith at Maggie. “Jamie showed me pictures of her. She’s just adorable. I mean, both of your children are beautiful, of course.”

“D’ye want to hold her?” Ian offered.

Claire’s heart fluttered. “Could I?”

“Aye, of course.”

They both scooted forward for the exchange.

“Have to pish anyway.”

Jamie clapped Ian on the shoulder as he got up to leave, and Claire sighed loudly as the small weight settled in her lap.

“Well, hello!” she cooed, smiling enormously at Maggie’s sweet face. “Aren’t you the cutest little thing.” She bounced the baby in her lap, and she smiled lazily at her before breaking into the sweetest little giggles. Claire laughed in response, her head light and dizzy from the euphoria of holding a baby.

“Oh…I haven’t held one this small since Faith,” she sighed. “She’s just so sweet. Such a perfectly behaved baby.”

“Aye, she’s night and day wi’ that one.” Jenny nodded behind her to Jamie, engrossed in the game on the tellie.

Maggie gave another squealing giggle, and Faith abruptly sat up for the first time since burrowing into Jamie’s side.

“Ye look bonny wi’ a bairn, Sassenach.”

Claire looked up from Maggie to see Jamie boring smoldering diamonds into her, and she felt herself turn to a puddle. She’d be lying if she said she’d never thought about having another baby, and she’d also be lying if she said the thought of having one with Jamie hadn’t immediately crossed her mind the second she laid eyes on Maggie’s darling face.

They maintained eye contact for a long moment, and then Faith reached forward and grabbed the baby’s face, and Claire gasped, pulling Maggie into her.

“Gentle, Faith,” Jamie said quickly, as gently as he could muster. “The baby is very wee, and very sensitive. Ye must be gentle.”

“Gentle like with Pippi,” Claire added.

Faith bit her lip and sat up again, and then she gently stroked her fingers down the line of Maggie’s nose. Claire and Jamie both burst out laughing, and Faith hummed loudly, jiggling her hands and bouncing in Jamie’s lap.

“Pippi’s her horse?” Jenny said, chuckling herself.

“Aye!” Jamie said through his laughter, and then Jenny and Brian were also laughing out loud.

“What’d I miss?” Ian returned from the bathroom and sat back down on the couch.

“Faith started petting Maggie like her horse because we told her to be gentle,” Jamie explained, laughter finally subsiding. “Good girl, Faith,” he said.

“Come here, baby,” Claire summoned her closer. Faith clambered onto Jamie’s other leg. “You don’t have to pet her nose. Look.” Claire stroked Maggie’s head, then rubbed her back, all while bouncing her. “See? Gentle.”

Faith hummed loudly again, bouncing and jiggling.

“Calm down, lass,” Jamie crooned. “Ye canna play wi’ the bairn if ye canna be calm.”

Faith managed to stop one of her hands from flapping as she gingerly patted Maggie’s little head. Maggie turned to look at her, and Faith squealed.

“Yes, good job,” Claire said.

“Oh, how sweet,” Jenny said. “Ye’re a sweet girl, Faith.”

Faith did not turn at the sound of her name, but Claire beamed at Jenny. “She loves babies,” Claire said. “One of the moms brought her baby to the stables one day, and I had to hold Faith back from throwing herself in the stroller.”

Jenny chuckled. “She’ll make a braw big sister, then.”

“Janet,” Jamie warned, but Jenny just put her hands up in surrender, and Claire’s cheeks flushed red.

Faith gave another loud hum, and then she scrambled off of Jamie’s lap. She pattered over to the bag Claire had left by the door that contained both of her tablets and some emergency snacks that Claire had packed. She reached in for the school-provided tablet and walked back to the couch, standing in front of Claire and Maggie. She clicked around for a bit, and then she pressed the word she wanted to say.

“Play.”

Claire broke into a stupid, beaming grin. “You want to play with Maggie?”

Faith jumped up and down, letting out a squeal that gave way to a hum. “Play.”

“You’re so smart, good girl, sweetheart,” Claire praised. She looked to Jenny, who motioned for Claire to follow her. Claire set Maggie down on the floor as Jenny set out some toys she had brought.

“Play.”

“Yes, darling, we hear you, one moment please.”

Before long, Jenny had shown Faith all of Maggie’s toys, and Maggie was chewing on one while Faith became engrossed with the little baby piano toy. Jenny sat beside Maggie and Claire beside Faith, each making sure that Faith remained gentle and calm. They conversed over the children and across the room to the men. Claire learned how Jenny and Ian had gotten together, learned about the antics of all three of them growing up together, and at one point, she had tears leaking out of her eyes from laughing so hard at a story Brian told about the lads and the pigsty.

Faith would occasionally take Maggie’s hand and make her press buttons on various toys, some more gentle than others, but Maggie did not seem to mind. Little Jamie only got too loud on his video game one time, and one stern word from his mother was enough to assure it did not happen again.

The pizza delivery arrived, and there was a flurry of motion to get everyone into the kitchen. Parents all made sure that little ones’ hands were clean, and plates and cups were set out. Claire watched in awe as Jamie pulled a pizza plate out of his cabinet.

“Where on Earth did this come from?”

“I bought one,” Jamie said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “If the lass is gonnae eat pizza in my home she’ll have a pizza plate.”

Claire didn’t have the heart to tell him that Faith was not picky about what she ate off of if she wasn’t home, so she let Jamie hand the plate to Faith, both of their faces glowing with joy. Jamie turned around to grab the juice from the fridge and Claire went to help him, and by the time they both turned around, Brian was cutting Faith’s pizza on the plate, and Claire stopped in her tracks to stare.

“Ye’re family, lass.”

Jamie noticed, and he looked back and forth between his father and Claire, his eyes twinkling. He hugged her around the shoulders with one arm and kissed her temple.

“They’re as crazy about her as I am.”

Jamie crossed the rest of the way to the table, and Claire wiped her eyes quickly before following.

“I like her pizza plate,” wee Jamie announced, crossing his arms.

“Well, it’s Faith’s pizza plate,” Ian said firmly. “Ye’ll eat off yer own plate, and ye’ll like it.”

“Why do I no’ get one?”

“Because ye dinna have all the worries and troubles in yer heid that Faith has. The pizza plate helps her feel better. Now eat.”

The table was crowded, not meant for nearly as many people as were there, folding chairs squished between the wooden ones, but they made it work. Maggie was passed between laps so that her parents could eat, and everyone took turns handing her tiny pieces of saucy, non-cheesy, soft pizza to chew on. The conversation passed easily as they talked more about Jamie’s childhood; they even asked about Claire’s. She had plenty to tell about her adventures with her uncle, stories that she loved sharing with anybody who would listen.

Once the pizza was gone, Faith disappeared into the living room and returned with one of the DVDs that Claire had packed. Jamie helped her get it set up, and then little Jamie and Faith were sitting on the couch, watching Lilo and Stitch, and Ian was putting Maggie to sleep in the stroller that they were leaving in Jamie’s room.

The adults stayed at the kitchen table with drinks, and Claire held Jamie’s hand under the table, his other hand stroking her knee and thigh absently. Conversation with this family was easy and familiar, as if she’d known them her whole life. She did not feel like an outsider as she’d predicted she might. The feeling of belonging enveloped her like a warm hug. Then she’d remember Jenny helping Faith play with Maggie, Brian cutting her pizza, Ian explaining to little Jamie why Faith was different, and she would well up with tears.

Family gatherings in England made Claire sick with anxiety and made Faith utterly miserable, which just made everything worse. The Christmas before Frank left, when Faith was three, Claire had cried herself to sleep with his parents’ sneers burned into her subconscious. But this…

This was acceptance, understanding, welcoming, joy, warmth, comfort.

This was family.

108 notes · View notes

robinrequiems · 3 years

Note

Now that you mentioned it, can I have some track star player! Damian and basketball captain! Jon 👀

👀

• Baskebtall November-march, & outdoor track & soccer is March-June. pspspspspsps! I know Jack shit about sports (:

• in freshmen year, damian found himself bored, he had so much built up on energy that he needed to release. damians not a.. team player, so he joined a sport that didn’t really require you to be a team player. track.

• damian could run okay? he could run fast. so it was perfect, so now, as a junior, he was known for winning the school track trophies but Damian wasn’t as well known as jon. captain of the basketball team, a boy cherished by the school for bringing home a trophy for the first time in years. their basketball team was bad, but then, little freshmen jonny joined

• he just joined for fun, he didn’t expect to get in, he also liked played basketball with his brother, so he just tried out. ( that’s what he said at least ) sure, at the start he wasn’t the best player, but then, during their first game? he was playing amazingly. apparently the boys great under pressure

• he slowly rose up in the team and became well known, there was always a girl or two chasing after him in the halls ( jon didn’t really care for them.. he was more interested in the track star )

• jon fell in love with damian. no.. well.. jon had a crush on him since freshmen year. why, you may ask? ..he likes his personality, jon remembers getting lost in the falls as a freshmen and then sophomore Damian going to help him. was he laughing at him? definitely.

• people said damian was rude, jon said otherwise. he may not know damain that well, but he could see kindness in him

• his team members called him a simp. he.. no.. he wasn’t a simp? all he did was defend damian

• people said jon didn’t even know damian, but jon feels like he’s known him for years.. like they were partners or something ( am i hinting at reincarnation and a potential reincarnation arc in this au 👁 or am I hinting at doing a reincarnation au? the world will never know)

• jon believes there’s more to Damian than people think

• Maya is the captain of the girls soccer team, Tai is apart of the basketball team, Kathy is a cheerleader, and billy is a football player

• damian is friends with maya and sorta friends with tai due to club activities ( art ), & an acquaintance of Kathy because Maya is dating kathy ( today is a date I ship kathymaya )

• jon is friends with tai, Kathy ( childhood friends ), Maya ( Kathy’s gf so he knows Kathy’s gf ), & billy

• damian often saw jon in the halls, jon tried to smile at Damian, but damain just ignored them. he didn’t know Jon. stranger danger

• jons last game was coming yo, the championship, damians track season was about to start soon, the school was amped up

• it was the final game and jon was so hyped

Jon: Hey! Damian!

Damian:

Damian: what.

Jon: the um.. my last game.. it’s.. it’s friday.. and I was wondering if.. if you’d go?

Damian: I was already going.

Jon: really!

Damian: yes, tai invited me.

• a slight lie on damians part

• but he briefly heard tai ask Maya if she would come, and Maya normally brought Damian along ( much to his dismay.. )

• jon eyes lit up when he heard the name tai. Damian knows tai. TAI KNOWS DAMIAN

Jon: TAI

Tai: Jesus Christ, jon-

Jon: you know Dam— d a - frick - Damian

Tai: yeah?

Jon: set us up! match make! okay cupid!

Tai: are you sure english is your first language, ‘cause..

Jon; tai!

Tai: why do you even want to go out with him???

Jon: he’s pretty…

Tai: he’s mean

Jon: he is not!

• tai did not know what world jon wad living in

• but. tai was one of jons best friends so, he of course, tried to help:)

Tai: hey, shithead

Damian: oh my god, don’t talk to me

Tai: I need a favor

Damian: no.

Tai: you owe me.

• damian did owe him, tai took him to the er one time when he he fucked his ankle up after doing something stupid

Damian: what.

Tai: I need you to wear the number 3 to the game

Damian: 3– that’s - the boys- jons. why?

Tai: don’t ask.

• so that’s how Damian ended up wearing a shirt with the number 3 on it, Maya laughed at him

• oops. but Damian didn’t really care that much. but him wearing jons stupid number started rumors

• damian didn’t really label his sexuality, jon was openly bi, do that wasn’t the problem. the problem was that they thought they were dating

• damian didn’t like that and found it annoying. you see, damian didn’t really know of jons crush, he didn’t pay enough attention to the boy, it wasn’t like he was in any of his classes anyways.

• ( tai and Damian are sorta actually good friends, they have that insulty friendship and share a lot of classes, Maya is senior, along with Billy, Kathy’s a junior w/ tai n billy )

• damian really didn’t care for jon. at all.. until he actually saw him. the last time he saw jon. he was.. noodle like.

• now? he was not. he didn’t really fully pay attention to jon before. sure he’s saw his smile and face, but oh my god.

Damian: hes hot

Maya: what?

Damian: n.. nothing. Sorry.

• he did not mean to narrate his thoughts there. Damian didn’t care for team sports, but looking at jon play? wow.

• the way jon ran around, he was so. Elegant.

• damian was seriously ogling jon. Damian has never felt more embarrassed. he hates when people focused on his looks and here he was. doing the same. he wanted to commit mass murder. on himself. right now.

• meanwhile, Maya was just trying to watch her girlfriend who was sitting on the bench while Damian was having a mini breakdown on how shallow he was being

• ( told you guys, Damian will always be dramatic in any universe )

Maya: you good there-?

Damian: no.

Maya: great, it’s half time, I’m gonna go say hi to kathy

• he couldn’t believe Maya was leaving him in his misery

• meanwhile, jon was fsngirling. Damian was here. Damian. Wearing his number. Oh shit.

Jon: tai tai tai tai!!!!!!! Thank you thank you thank you!

Tai: yeah yeah, you owe me

• jon played so well that day too, they ended up winning the game. no one knew where jon got that sudden burst of energy when he was beginning to get tired, but he did

• and he got the winning shot

Kathy: geez, jon! good job!

Jon: thank you!

Maya: thought you guys were gonna lose

Tai: thanks Maya

Maya: anytime <3

Jon: I’m gonna say hi to damian, wish me luck!

Maya: luck wished

Tai: don’t combust when he looks at you!

• tai is the best wing man <3

• but anyways damians still in the bleachers, trying to hide from the world

Jon: Damian!

Damian: yes?

Jon: thanks for coming! I think you were my good luck charm

• jon should have not said that out loud, but he did.

• and Damian chose to just: not comment on it.

• a week or something later and it’s damians track meet

• he has started looking forward to jons smiles in the halls, but he still pretends that he never sees it. he learned a few things about jon, how he’s truly a sweetheart, probably the nicest person in the planet— as long as you don’t mess with his friends, and failing English class

• but damian doesn’t have the time to pine, he spends his hours now running, jumping hurdles, jumping, and yadayada.

• he was excited. he was. he was just: wow. he was hyped up, energy was building up in him as anticipation built up for the first meet. It was currently Monday, the first meet will be Wednesday. Three days.

• and in those three days, he was his own enemy. sleep- sleep did not come easily. Not at all. His thoughts kept him up and awake, thinking about the possibilities, it was absolute garbage.

Maya: geez, you look like a zombie

Damian: feel like one

Tai: hey dude did you bring th— ooh yikesss

Damian: shut up.

• damian was 100%my grumpy that day and glared at all passing bystanders

• but jon had began sitting at Damian’s table, along with Tai ( 😡 )

• damians table consisted of Maya, sometimes Kathy, Maps, && Colin. Colin was also apart of the track team

Jon: uh, D- are you okay?

Damian: mmhhhshshshjsnm

• jon and Damian started calling each other by D and J, they don’t know why, it just happened

• jon wanted to go to damians meet, but he didn’t exactly know if Damian would like that? it was.. complicated

• he didn’t even know if him and damian were friends, they barely even saw each other minus the small times in the hallway and lunch

• but he did go to damians track meet, damian would never admit that he liked that Jon was there

#damijon #unfinished but #captain j and track star d #Damian wayne #au #rambles #Jon kent

47 notes · View notes

sazc94 · 3 years

Text

Pietro and Bunny

HELLO

Here is my second entry for the wonderful @msmarvelwrites 2k Challenge.

This a spin-off from my Bucky fic: The three times Bucky broke your heart. Part 1 linked Here.

It follows the same timeline and explores the relationship of Pietro and Reader (Bunny) More.

Words 6034

Themes. Angst, Suggestions of smut. But mostly lots and lots of fluff. 18+ Because of the smut suggestions.

This has two parts and I will upload part 2 tomorrow.

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲?"

Pietro thought you were pretty cool. He thought you and Bucky made a great couple. He enjoyed hanging out with you when you would all hang out as a group. Pietro wasn’t one for girlfriends. Sure he’d had a few semi-serious flings and would occasionally bring a date to the parties after a game and loved how you would instantly make anyone feel welcome. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he started to think of you as more than a friend. It was sometime during his senior year.

At first, he pushed the idea out of his head. You were Bucky’s girl Y/N! You were the cute shy girl Bucky had brought out of her shell, who was still deep down that adorable musical theatre-loving dork. However, when Bucky started getting defensive around him and Sam about who he was texting, Pietro stopped feeling so bad about liking you of course Pietro would never do anything to jeopardize your relationship with Bucky and his friendships with either of you, but he couldn’t help but feel a tang of jealousy towards Bucky.

2010

“Look at Bucky, can’t go 5 minutes without texting his little cheerleader,” Sam said walking up behind Pietro. Bucky was too engrossed in his phone to pay any attention to the pair of them. Pietro smirked.

“Sam, watch this” Pietro said, before breezing over to Bucky and pulling his phone out of his hands. Bucky instantly shot up trying to grab the phone from Pietro, however, he was too quick throwing the phone to Sam.

“Dear Doll, I love you so much and all thought I only saw you this morning, I am already missing you” Pietro sang in a teasing manner.

“Come on guy’s give it back” Bucky grunted. Sam and Pietro kept throwing the phone between them. Suddenly Sam stopped laughing.

“Hey Buck, who’s Nat and why is she asking if you’re going to be around this summer?” Sam asked his eyebrow shooting up. Bucky’s façade faltered for a second. His usual bright blue eyes deepening with an unfamiliar expression. Pietro’s interest was also piqued, he may have wanted you for himself but that didn’t mean he wanted to see you get hurt.

“Oh, she’s just a friend of Jane’s. I met her at that party after our game in Green Bay last year she’s a cheerleader like Jane and Y/N. Natasha and her boyfriend Clint will be in town the summer and she wants to introduce us apparently her boyfriend was impressed with how we played” Bucky said, shrugging it off like it was no big deal. After that incident, Bucky was on his phone around the football team less and started talking about how much he loved you and couldn’t wait to spend some quality time with you in the summer.

November 2011

By the time graduation rolled around Pietro had put any thoughts about the pair of you out of his mind, chalking it up to wanting a relationship as opposed to you. At least that’s what he kept telling himself. You came along to his graduation ceremony. Well, it was for everyone. Pietro, Sam, Wanda, Jane, and Carol. Bucky came along too. Late. But you were there with Peter Parker who was a freshman, he had talent, but he seemed to prefer being behind a camera as opposed to on the field.

The whole gang hung around the field and bleachers after the ceremony. Goofing off and enjoying the last time the group would all be together like this for a while. Peter took photos of you all. Pietro’s favourite was one where he and Sam had picked you up whilst you were in the middle of talking to Carol and Wanda. The laughter that came out of your mouth as you squealed and shouted for the two footballers to put you down made his heart flutter.

Okay so maybe he wasn’t as over you as he told himself he was. Now he could understand what that Taylor Swift was banging on about in that song of hers.

Have you ever thought just maybe?

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Bucky’s girl,” he said grinning at you. For some stupid reason, probably because Pietro didn’t know what to do with his hands, he ruffled your hair like you were 5 again. He couldn’t help but notice you wince at the old pet name. He mentally kicked himself. Why had he called you that?!

Graduation was the last time he saw you for over a year. Unlike Bucky, Pietro had actually been away at a football camp when Bucky had cheated on you. He didn’t know what had happened. Only knew you two had broken up. Wanda was fiercely protective of her friendship with you and didn’t want to betray you by admitting to those that didn’t know that Bucky had cheated on you. He wasn’t going to lie; he was saddened when you didn’t stay in touch with him after he graduated. But after he started his first year at the University of Michigan, he didn’t have much time to worry about it. He was a Line Backer having secured a football scholarship after college scouts came to see Sam and a few others play, Pietro had caught the eye of the scout from the University of Michigan, all though he was a great player, Pietro didn’t want to play professionally like many of the guys on the team. He was studying Business and Economics.

Since about the age of 15, he and Wanda had always planned on going into business together. Between parties, flirting with the pretty cheerleaders and sorority girls and his studies you became a distant memory to Pietro. That was until one November game in his second year.

The Wolverines were playing the Wisconsin Badgers. Boy did they suck. Not that Pietro minded it allowed him the opportunity to watch the cheerleaders, he knew a few of the girls on the team from various parties, he hadn’t paid much attention to the new girls on the squad. Then out of the corner of his eye, he spotted someone who looked familiar to him. Could it be Y/N? Wanda had mentioned something about you getting a scholarship at Uni for your cheerleading, but he’d been in the middle of a game of Mario Kart with Sam at the time.

He tried to rack his brain’s but then the ball came towards him. He smiled to himself. Showtime Pietro. The game was an easy win. Whilst his teammates cheered Pietro made his way to the side-lines, desperate to know if the girl he’d seen earlier was you. His heart skipped a beat when he heard your familiar laugh. He couldn’t believe it. Pietro came jogging up towards you determined to chat.

“It’s just Y/N” or you can call me cutie you said winking at Pietro, he chuckled.

“How about I just call you tomorrow?” he retorted, you felt yourself blush. Pietro may come across as confident but inside he was shaking with nerves. Was he really doing this? What if you said no? You shrugged before pulling out a sharpie from your bag, you wrote down your number on his arm. He cocked his head puzzled.

“I changed it last year after Bucky wouldn’t stop blowing it up with apology texts,” you said simply wrongly presuming Pietro knew what had gone down. Before Pietro could respond you ran off to join the rest of your squad and headed for the changing room. He couldn’t help but smile to himself as your laughter rang in his ears whilst you walked off the pitch.

“Pietro! What’s good? How’d your game go tonight?” Sam asked. He sounded buzzed and Pietro could hear the faint sounds of a party in the background. Excellent he thought to himself. Sam was buzzed enough to have loose lips but not drunk enough to be of no use and if he was lucky Sam might not even remember half the conversation.

Pietro got back to his apartment, he had zero clues about what had gone on with you and Bucky. It was obvious due to your remark about him blowing up your phone with apology texts that he’d done something. He weighed up his options. Wanda or Sam? Wanda was his twin, and he knew deep down if he pulled the twin card she would tell him, but then if nothing came of this, he would be opening a can of worms with his sister over nothing.

Then there was Sam, he was still pretty close with Bucky and liked to chat a lot. But ultimately, he was like a brother to Pietro, and he trusted Sam to keep his mouth shut. Taking a deep breath and raking his hand through his Silver-blonde hair he picked up his phone and dialled Sam.

“So Sam you’ll never guess who I ran into cheering on the side-lines of the game!?” Pietro tried to sound breezy and cool like it was no big deal, despite the fact he was about to ask his friends ex out on a date.

“ I ran into Y/N. You know Bucky’s girl?” Pietro carried on forcing his voice to sound light. Sam choked on his drink down the other end of the line.

“I wouldn’t let her hear you call her that. That boy broke her damn heart, the fool” Sam said, there was an edge to his voice that Pietro almost missed.

“Wait, what do you mean?” Pietro asked genuinely curious.

“Well remember that little party your sister threw that last week of summer whilst you were away at football camp with some of your new teammates?” Sam asked. He didn’t wait for Pietro to respond before he continued.

“Well, Jane brought her friend Nat along” Sam continued. Pietro took a sharp intake of breath. No, Bucky wouldn’t have been stupid enough to kiss her at a party with your mutual friends, would he?

“Well turns out that Clint guy Bucky talked about wasn’t her boyfriend he was just a really good friend. But by the time we found that out Jane realised both Bucky and this Nat chick hadn’t been seen for at least a good 15, 20 minutes. So, she went to go find Nat. Only to walk in on them fucking. Oh yeah, it was on your bed bro”, Sam finished his story like it was no big deal. Other than the telling disdain in his voice.

Pietro stood stunned. No wonder you had winced at the use of your old nickname. Pietro’s heart broke for you at that moment. He vowed at that moment that no matter what happened between you both, he would do everything in his power to ensure you never had to feel heartbreak like that again.

Pietro will never forget that first date with you. He had come up with some lame excuse of showing you the best-hidden beauty spots of the campus. Not that there were any, he just wanted an excuse to spend some time with you. He wore jeans and a jumper with his beat-up converse.

All though it didn’t look like he had put much effort into his outfit he had spent a good hour agonising over it. In the end, he settled for a faded blue jumper hoping it would make his eyes and hair pop. He met you by the school library and the sun was shining, it was still a chilly November mid-morning.

You had turned up with your hair tied up in a messy bun a few stray pieces framing your cheeks, you had opted for a sweater dress. He remembered because it was loose and comfy but sinched inwards in all the right places. It was a silvery colour almost the same shade his hair was. Pietro swore you took his breath away.

Winter Break 2011

“And that right there is where the fraternity pledges had to stand and sing, I’m a little teapot every time someone put 10$ in the bucket. I didn’t truly understand the strange British Nursery Song or whatever it was, but I did like watching the pledges get embarrassed every time they had to sing when the cute cheerleaders walked past. So, I put 40 Bucks in the bucket when I knew the 3rd Years would be heading to practise” Pietro said pointing to the school statue.

You had nearly fallen over laughing at his story. Pietro noticed how you scrunched your nose up when you laughed. Like a rabbit. No like a Bunny. When Pietro walked you back to your dorm, he wasn’t sure if he was going to kiss you, but when you let him hold your hand, he decided at that moment he would regret it more if he didn’t take the plunge.

The moment he knew he was yours and you were his was at a party, he’d taken you on lots of hot chocolate dates, he knew you didn’t like coffee because it tasted bitter to you and that coca was nice, but you preferred the sweet comfort of a creamy hot chocolate.

It was at a party being held by the Ice Hockey team to celebrate their latest string of wins. You didn’t come to parties often preferring the comfort of a book and a cosy night in, but you always tried to attend parties after the football matches. You walked in wearing a red top and black skinny jeans.

The top wasn’t super low cut, but it hinted at your cleavage, you’d left your hair down for a change in loose curls. You’d recently gotten your hair dyed a deep chocolate brown and it brought out your eyes. Pietro nearly lost his damn mind when his Ice-blue eyes met your chocolate brown eyes after he’d drank all of you in. He excused himself from the conversation he was having with Scott Summers and co making his way over to you.

“Bunny, you look good enough to eat,” Pietro said dipping his head down to meet your lips, your lips were always so warm and welcoming a stark comparison to his cool lips.

“Bunny?” You replied scrunching your nose up. This was the first time Pietro had called you a pet name, you felt your heart somersault.

Pietro was messaging his sister on the drive home. He could tell you had something on your mind, but he knew better than to push you.

“So,” you began.

“What’s up Bunny?” Pietro asked snapping his eyes up from his phone.

“Well, I just thought now might be a good time to talk, we’re clearly going to run into a lot of our old friends, and there’s no way Wanda won’t know something is going on here, and I, I saw your lock screen,” you said. Well yeah Pietro thought, was he meant to be keeping you guys a secret? He didn’t want to, and he had just assumed you were a couple. You did couple type things, watching movies together curled up, holding hands when you guys were out together.

“So you were wondering what we are?” Pietro’s couldn’t hide the amusement in his voice. God, you were adorable. He watched your demeanour change and felt a pang of guilt, the determination in your eyes as you tried to not show that you felt embarrassed.

“Hey Bunny, look at me” Pietro grabbed your hand, wanting you to know how much he truly meant the next few words.

“We are a couple. I’m sorry you felt the need to ask, but I adore you, so we are a thing,” he said stroking circles on the back of your hand. You smiled and nodded to yourself. Pietro held on to your hand stroking circles the rest of the traffic. He couldn’t wait to tell Wanda she was wrong about him never getting serious with anyone.

“Hey Wanda, have you got a second?” Pietro and Wanda were heading out to meet up with you and the rest of the old school gang who had made it home for the Winter Break in the local coffee shop.

“Sure brother, what’s up?” she asked shrugging on her red jacket and lacing up her boots.

“So, you know that girl I told you I was seeing?” Pietro asked, you two hadn’t said if you were going to tell people or just let them figure it out, but he at least wanted to give his twin a heads up. Wanda straightened her brown hair falling behind her ears. She impatiently cocked an eyebrow waiting for her twin to continue. They were going to be late at this rate.

“Well, you know her. In Fact, you’re good friends” Pietro continued sucking in his breath.

“If you mean to tell me you’re dating Y/N, I already know brother”, Pietro froze. “I’m happy for you, but if you break her heart like that James did, I will not hesitate to kill you and hide the body” she continued.

“How did you know?” Pietro couldn’t help but ask, you guys hadn’t been a secret, but you hadn’t exactly announced it to the world either.

“I’m good at reading people Pietro” Wanda shrugged before heading out the door.

“You sly dog,” Sam said chuckling. Just then Peter turned up. Sam’s comment hadn’t escaped you, so you simply shot Pietro a quizzical look, one of your eyebrows arched. Pietro gently shook his head. He’d tell you about the phone call later.

It was great hanging out with the old gang, shame about Carol, and Jane being unable to make it back. Bucky was dating that Natasha chick and hadn’t come home from the holidays. Evidently, this wasn’t a surprise to Sam or Wanda. Pietro however was a bit taken back. That was until he heard how his sister had almost killed Bucky when she had run into him last summer. Carol had had to restrain her. Pietro couldn’t lie he was kind of bummed to miss it.

Pietro and Wanda didn’t celebrate Christmas, but they did celebrate being around people they loved and as the four of you sat around waiting for Peter Parker to make an appearance, he couldn’t help but feel his heart swell. You hadn’t even reacted to the mentions of Bucky. The way your brown eyes lit up when you teased Sam about his poor season or crinkled your nose when Wanda complimented your new hair, made Pietro come completely undone. Not being able to restrain himself anymore he leant in and kissed you, a slow soft kiss. The taste of your gingerbread cookie and peppermint hot chocolate lingering on your lips. When Pietro pulled away, he shot Sam a wink, and you promptly turned crimson. Sam just sat there gawking. Pietro watched as Sam tried to piece together his hazy memory from that phone call.

2012

Pietro absolutely adored the photo you had gotten him for Christmas, displaying it on his bedside table proudly. He had brought you a stuffed bunny for Christmas, cheesy but it made you beam at him.

“A Bunny for my Bunny” Pietro said shooting you his signature grin. Your heart constricted; it was an adorable soft fluffy powder blue bunny.

After winter break things got crazy busy. The year also seemed to rush by, between keeping on top, your rehearsals for the play. Pietro’s football practises, football matches, nationals for your cheerleading competition. It felt like you had barely any time to breathe. Pietro always looked forward to football games, not because he loved playing which he did, no it was because when you were cheering your face lit up, you always had his number painted on your cheek. Your brown hair always pulled up in a high ponytail, accentuating your big beautiful brown eyes that always looked for Pietro’s ice-blue eyes on the field. Mostly he loved the looks of jealousy he would get from the other team when players would be checking you out. Pietro would always come over for a kiss for good luck when he wasn’t on the field. You always giggled about how Mr cool; the confident cocky big-time football player was such a dork around you. Pietro was fast, sometimes your eyes couldn’t quite make out his movements, all you would see was a flash of his silver-blonde hair that peeked out under his helmet. You had started calling him Quicksilver, originally as a joke but it had stuck.

“So, move in with me for the summer,” he had said, his heart pounding in his chest. It wasn’t a big deal really but the thought of waking up to you every day for the summer made him practically giddy. Pietro continued to stroke circles on your bare legs. He was watching Grease, but he wasn’t absorbing what was being said.

Pietro loved every single second he got to spend with you, but mostly he loved the summer. College football season had finished, school was winding down and it meant he got to sit in those quiet moments with you. Pietro had no plans to go home for the Summer.

Pietro adored you more than he was willing to admit, hell he loved you which is why he was always never going to push you for anything more than you were comfortable with. He was content just kissing you, steamy make-out sessions. He just liked being close to you breathing in your scent, in the winter you always smelt like Vanilla and crushed Rose Petals. In the summer you changed your body spray, and he hadn’t quite been able to pinpoint the smell, but you smelt like Peaches, sunscreen, and sunshine. Okay, maybe not sunshine but he felt the warmth of your presence every time you were together. Pietro knew you were stressing about summer accommodation so he couldn’t help but offer up his place.

“Okay, I’ll move in for the summer,” you said. You picked up the remote and pressed pause on the DVD Pietro had been so focused on trying to play it cool he hadn’t even heard you the first time you spoke. When you started undressing, Pietro didn’t know where to look. Sure, you’d spent nights together, but Pietro always left you to get changed in his room whilst he went to brush his teeth. His eyes couldn’t help but wander over your body as you walked into your bedroom. Pietro inwardly groaned and felt himself harden. Trying to take his mind off what he had just witnessed he pulled out his phone. That’s when you appeared in the door frame, wearing nothing but his football jersey, when it lifted to show the skin of your bare stomach Pietro nearly lost his damn mind.

“Well, are you coming or not handsome?” Pietro grinned throwing his phone on the sofa and closing the gap between you in seconds, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder. Pietro was certain that if he didn’t get his way with you right that second, he would combust.

Winter Break 2012

“You love her, don’t you?” Wanda asked Pietro. You were finishing up tech rehearsals, so Wanda and Pietro were enjoying some sibling bonding by cooking Paprikash. Wanda’s eyes narrowed at Pietro who was avoiding eye contact with his sister. He could feel his sisters warm blue eyes boring into him. Eventually, Pietro stopped washing up and turned to face his sister. Wiping his hands on a tea towel he finally lifted his eyes to meet Wanda’s.

“Yes, of course, I do but that’s not a secret, so what are you actually asking Wanda?” Pietro raked a hand through his silver-blonde hair.

“It's obvious you two love each other Pietro, dearly. But you’re in love with her, you would hang the stars for that girl, and when are you going to admit it? You visibly had a thing for her back in high school and you have healed the damage done by James Barnes. So why don’t you let your guard down and tell her how you truly feel?” Wanda asked. Pietro stood there dumbfounded. Had it genuinely been that obvious to people he had liked you back in high school when you were Bucky’s girl? As if reading Pietro’s mind Wanda answered his question.

“You may have fooled everyone else Pietro, but not me” Wanda returned to her cooking and that was the last of the conversation.

“Are you sure your mum doesn’t mind me staying with you guys for winter break?” you asked twiddling your hair nervously. Pietro chuckled lifting your small suitcase into his car.

“Come on then quicksilver, let’s get going before the traffic builds up,” you said shooting him a grin your worries disappearing.

“Yes Bunny, she wouldn’t hear of you staying here alone. Besides, Wanda would rip my arms off if I even thought about coming home without you” he said pressing a kiss to your temple. Pietro had refused to let you drive saying it was his turn as you had driven last year. You still looked unsure tugging at the selves of your red jumper dress as you walked round to the front of his car. Your brown hair fell in loose waves, still slightly damp from your last-minute shower.

Pietro sensed something else was bothering you but didn’t push it. Instead, he hopped up on the bonnet of his car and pulled you between his legs. Pressing his forehead to yours, he uttered a silent promise that his mum would love you and that that the rest of the old gang would be happy for you both like they had all sworn they were. You looked up at him through your big doe eyes and pecked a gentle kiss on his nose.

“So, who did you say was coming tonight again?” you asked. You were standing in Wanda’s room whilst you both got ready for the small hang out Pietro and Wanda were hosting. Pietro had gone out to pick up Sam and Peter Parker and this girl he was bringing, Gwen. Pietro of course had been right about his mum loving you, you’d spent the last four days feeling welcome, included and at home. Wanda and Pietro’s mum had enveloped you into a big hug the moment she met you.

“Sam, Jane, Peter and his girlfriend Gwen. Carol’s coming, I think she said she was bringing her girlfriend. Now put this on” Wanda said handing you a low cut, slim-fitting black sweater dress. You rolled your eyes at Wanda; you were quite happy wearing one of Pietro’s oversized sweaters and your jeans, but you knew better than to argue with her. Just then you heard the door shut.

“It will be great to have so many of the old group back together,” Sam said shrugging off his jacket as he followed Pietro down to the converted basement.

“How are things between you and Y/N?” Sam asked.

“Sam, they’re pretty amazing,” Pietro said, a slight blush forming in his cheeks.

“Okay, that’s good to hear. Did you know Bucky’s in town for the holidays? I text him saying he should come along tonight; I hope that’s okay?” Sam asked. Pietro shrugged, he hadn’t spoken to Bucky since Bucky’s graduation and even then, that had been by phone. It wasn’t that Pietro actively avoided speaking with Bucky, it’s just that Pietro didn’t have anything to say to Bucky.

The pair of you had spoken in great detail about everything that went down between Bucky and yourself last year after winter break, and Pietro could see you still carried the scars from what he had done to when he cheated on yourself. Just then Wanda and you made your way downstairs into the basement. Pietro felt himself harden when he got a good look at what you were wearing. It was going to be a long night whilst Pietro thought the urge to take you upstairs and fuck you senseless. As if reading her brothers thoughts Wanda smirked to herself, a job well done, maybe now her brother would grow some balls and finally tell you exactly how he felt.

“Bunny, you look. Just wow” Pietro said. Sam rolled his eyes, you giggled before walking over to give Pietro a gentle kiss on the lips. You wrapped your arms around him hugging him close before you felt his hardened member. You cocked an eyebrow at him, but Pietro shook his head brushing your hair behind your ears before giving you another gentle kiss.

After about two hours, everyone had relaxed, caught up and were just chilling. Sam hadn’t heard from Bucky, so Pietro hadn’t thought anything more about it, no sense bringing it up to you if he didn’t show.

Sam had also gotten up nudging Pietro, swearing he would beat him next time. Pietro chuckled, that’s when Sam nudged him.

“You sly bastard Parker” Sam practically shouted. The three of them were playing Mario Kart whilst Taylor Swift played in the background, all though he’d never admit to anyone, including no, especially you. Taylor Swift had grown on him over the past year. Mostly because he loved the way you lit up when you sang along to her in the car.

Pietro was so engrossed in his game with the boys he barely registered you getting up off the sofa next to him. Whilst Sam had been busy yelling at Peter for using Banana peels, Pietro had overtaken Sam in the race. Once the game finished Pietro noticed you weren’t next to him. Feeling empty without you snuggled next to him he got up and stretched. He figured you were probably talking to the girls or something.

“Uh, Pietro, you might want to go save your girl from an awkward encounter with her ex” Sam looked pained. He was realising the error of his ways by inviting Bucky along. Pietro just shot him a puzzled look before following Sam’s line of sight. Pietro sucked a breath in.

“Sam, I swear to god if she ends up in tears tonight because of you, I will not hesitate to punch you in the face,” Pietro said before walking off to the fridge where you and Bucky stood.

“Yeah, schools fine thanks Bucky,” you said politely. Pietro’s heart was beating loudly in his chest, he had no concerns about how secure your relationship was, he just wanted to save you from any unnecessary heartbreak when it came to James “Bucky” Barnes.

December 2012 – August 2014

“Hey Bunny,” he said kissing the corner of your head before wrapping his arms around you.

“Hey Buck, long time no see!” Pietro said. Bucky stood frozen for a few seconds processing what he had just witnessed.

“Hey, Pietro Yeah. It's been a hot minute, so you two are a couple? You guys look cute congrats. Oh man, wow is that Peter over there? I barely recognise him I’m going to go say hey. Catch you guys later!” Bucky said practically running over to Peter. You turned around and kissed Pietro.

“Come on Quicksilver, let’s see if I can beat you at Mario Kart,” you said pulling him over to the sofa. Pietro instantly felt himself relax, glad to see that you hadn’t been impacted by Bucky’s sudden appearance. He grinned at you as he let you drag him behind you,

“What?” you said chuckling at his goofy grin.

“I’m just so fucking in love with you Y/N,” he said. Your heart skipped a few beats. Sure, you had both said I love you, but the way Pietro’s ice-blue eye’s shone at you, the way he had phrased it as being in love with you, made your heart squeeze, butterflies erupt in your stomach and all those other cliché metaphors.

“Pietro, I am going to rock you fucking world tonight, because I feel the exact same way”, you whispered in his ear. Pietro’s eyes bulged out of his head. He lent down and gave you a hungry kiss, sending electricity coursing through your body. When you finally broke free from the kiss Pietro, caught sight of Bucky glowering in the corner of the room ignoring whatever it was Peter was wittering on about.

Winter break came and went. Your second year at Uni whizzed past. Pietro even joined you and your family for your annual summer vacation in Miami, your grandparents were getting on a bit, so you decided to skip the summer production of Hairspray. Pietro joined you for two summers of family vacations in Miami. Your Grandma took a liking to him.

“Pietro, so good to see you again,” she said hugging him. “If I was 55 years younger”, she said shooting Pietro a wink. Pietro chuckled and stuck his tongue out at you.

“See I told you that she loved me the most out of all of you,” he said. You rolled your eyes. Pietro was right your grandma did have a soft spot for him. Who could blame her? Pietro was a true gentleman and his muscles stretched out any shirt he wore. His floppy silver-blonde hair and his goody grin. You were truly a lucky girl. He was going to break your grandma’s heart as much as yours when you two ended things this summer.

Saying goodbye to you was going to be one of the hardest things he ever had to do. The pair of you had spent the last week of summer in Florida with Wanda and her boyfriend James also known as Vision. Tomorrow you would both be getting on separate planes and going your separate ways. You were dancing around in the sea not a care in the world.

Pietro loved the way you were in the summer, the stresses of school melted away. You burned easily so your skin always had a very faint sun-kissed glow to it, but the way you were with your family. That was when you truly glowed. The way you blushed when your parents would talk about how proud they were of you. You were an only child, so your cousins were the closest thing to siblings you had.

And boy did your two male cousins pick on you. Teasing you about being smart, your relationship with Pietro. The way you would roll your eyes at them. Pietro’s heart squeezed with adoration when he watched you huddled in the kitchen with your grandma. Oblivious to the fact he was watching your brow would furrow in concentration as your grandma bossed you about in the kitchen whilst the pair of you cooked up some delicious treats.

“You know brother if you asked her to do long distance and wait for you, she would”, Wanda said sitting down next to Pietro. Wanda’s red hair almost looked like fire in the setting sun. Pietro sighed and shook his head.

“I know, but it’s not right or fair on her. She has plans of her own and we will be busy setting up your fashion label in NYC” he said, raking a hand through his hair.

“Besides, She's Cheer Captain, and I'm on the bleachers. She deserves to enjoy her last year, her heart is in Michigan, where her mum and dad are.” Pietro sighed. Just then you came bounding over. Your black bikini just about covering all it needed too. You plopped down on the blanket beside Pietro, your brown hair trying to escape its messy bun. You rested your head in Pietro’s lap. You giggled as he gently bopped your nose. Swallowing down the ache in your chest.

The pair of you stood wrapped in each other’s embrace at the airport, the rest of the world shut out. Pietro breathing in your familiar scent one last time. He didn’t need to hear you to know you were crying. It was taking everything in him not to cry too.

“Be good Bunny, don’t cause too much mischief with Loki and stay in touch. I love you my little Bunny” he said wiping the tears from your eyes. You couldn’t say anything, so you just held him tight and cried. When you finally broke the embrace and Pietro boarded. He wiped away the few tears that had escaped his eyes.

#pietro maximoff #pietro x reader #pietro x you #pietro fluff #bucky x natasha #wanda x vision #msmarvelwrites2k #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #avengers au

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berrynarrybanana · 3 years

Text

deck the halls pt. 3

A/N: This one is a little shorter, and it has a lot of angst and sadness towards the end, and I can’t promise that it’s going to get better as the story goes on, but I do promise there is a happy ending. Please enjoy this little chapter filled with soft Harry (Until he’s not) and let me know what you think of the story so far. I love you all bunches, and thank you for reading!

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: Angst, mentions of smut, mentions of bisexuality and naughty things.....hehe

November 12

Harry woke up with Holland’s head tucked into his chest.

For a brief moment, he was actually confused by the body pressed into his side. It had been ages since a girl had stepped foot in his flat, and even longer since one stayed the night in his bed. His eyes took a second to adjust to the darkness of his bedroom as Holland stirred, pushing her nose further into the collar of his shirt with a tiny whimper. Harry turned his head, softly shushing her as he pressed a firm kiss to her hairline. He let his palm rub up and down the center of her back before he tightened his arm around her body to keep her close.

For the first time in sixteen years, Harry didn’t have a nightmare about Holland or Jack Frost.

So far as he knew, he didn’t even have a dream at all.

He closed his eyes, inhaling the sweet scent of Holland as his lips curved into a smirk. He pressed a soft series of kisses over her hairline and her forehead as he slipped his hand to her upper back. He felt her fingers tighten in his shirt, pulling it just a little as her whimpers turned to soft hums. He still couldn’t believe that she was really here, living just across the hall from him.

Never in his life did he imagine they would be tucked in bed together like this, holding her while she slept peacefully. For years, he was convinced that he was absolutely insane, hoping that some girl from a nightmare existed in real life, but as he continued to feel her chest rise and fall beneath his palm, he felt sane and calm. She was here, alive, and beautiful. He couldn’t ask for anything more than this right here….

Except for one thing.

His parents.

He could only imagine how his Mum would take to Holland, the two women similar in more ways than just one. The two would probably have Harry running around without his wits, hanging up decorations and baking dozens of cookies during the Christmas season. If he closed his eyes, he could see his Mum standing next to Holland in the kitchen, both mixing their own separate bowls of chocolate chip cookies to see who had the better recipe. Harry’s heart ached at the thought, but this time, it wasn’t in pain. It was a weird feeling that made him feel almost happy and hopeful instead of angry.

“It’s still dark outside.” Holland muttered, her voice quiet and scratchy. “Why are you awake?”

“I could ask you the same, couldn’t I?” He whispered, clearing his throat. “I was just thinking, that’s all.”

“What were you thinking about?” She lifted her head, pressing her chin to the back of her hand, her fingers digging into Harry’s pectoral muscle in a delectable way. “Thinking about me?”

“Might be, yeah.” He chuckled, sliding his right hand under his head to prop himself up so that he could properly look at her. “You look really pretty in the morning.”

“You’re being silly.” Holland lazily rolled her eyes at Harry, but he just frowned back at her as if he was offended by her words. “I probably look really gross, Harry.”

“Shut your pretty mouth right now.” He said, his voice raising in pitch ever so slightly. “I think you’re bloody gorgeous, and I’ll not hear another word about it.”

“See, I knew you were a big softie.” She chuckled, ducking her forehead down to the back of her hand as Harry’s faux expression of offense faded. “You’re a little rough around the edges, but I know who you are on the inside, Harry Styles.”

“Do you?” He asked, watching as she lifted her head up with a quick nod. “Who is that?”

“You have the kindest heart of anyone I’ve ever known.” She whispered. “And you would do anything for the people you love, even Niall.”

“That’s a bit far.” Harry snorted, rolling his eyes again. “Let's not be dramatic.”

“You would do anything for him, I know it.” Holland pinched Harry’s side gently. “I know that you’re scared of living your life to the fullest because something terrible happened to you...but I promise that no matter what life throws at you, you’ll be alright.”

“How do you know that?” Harry swallowed around the lump in his throat, watching Holland press her lips together to hide a smile. “You are a psychic, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not.” She laughed. “But I do consider myself an expert on all things Harry Styles. I’ve known you for sixteen years, even if I haven’t really known you. No one else that I know would try to continuously save a drowning girl in a nightmare if they didn’t care about life and the people around them. You try so hard to act like you don’t care, but I know that you do.”

“Now I’m starting to think that you’re like, worse than a bloody psychic.” He mumbled, trying to lighten the mood. “Sometimes I feel like you can see right into my soul.”

“Something like that.” She mumbled, avoiding his gaze. “Do you believe in soulmates?”

Harry paused, looking at the ceiling as Holland rested her cheek on his chest again.

“I’ve never really thought about it.” He hummed softly. “But I would really like it if they were real.”

“Would you want me to be your soulmate if they were?” She yawned at the end of her sentence, sliding her palm just above Harry’s beating heart.

“Yeah, actually.” He whispered, tilting his chin down as he felt her smile against his chest. “I would pick you every time, no questions asked.”

“Why?” Her voice was slowly fading.

“Because…” He licked over his lips, inhaling. “Because sometimes I feel like you’re my other half in a very literal sense. I feel everything you do, or at least I think that I do. I know when you’re upset, and when you’re happy. I can feel when you’re close by, and I can feel when you’re far away. I would pick you because...well, you’re a piece of myself that I’ve always wanted to find again.”

“Here I am.” She giggled softly. “You found me.”

“No, darling.” He pressed his lips to the top of her head. “You found me.”

Harry felt himself start to drift off with Holland, his eyes closing as the sound of sirens starting blaring in the distance. Holland didn’t budge, and neither did Harry.

For the first time in sixteen years, he felt at peace.

❄️❄️❄️❄️

Holland’s POV

Someone was knocking on Harry’s door.

Holland lifted her head, her blurry eyes trailing over his tired face.

He was still in a deep sleep, his lips parted as a small bit of drool collected at the corner of his lips. She smiled, kissing his chin before she quickly pulled away from his body. She slipped out of his bed, stumbling around in the dim morning light until she found the bedroom door. She sprinted down the hallway, unlocking the knob and pulling the chain down before opening the door with a wide, but sleepy smile.

“Good morning, Gemma.” Holland looked at Harry’s sister before her eyes trailed down to the little boy buckled into a pram. “Oh, hello there!”

“Hi.” The little boy waved a chubby hand, his gummy smile pulling at Holland’s heart strings.

“Is...where is Harry?” Gemma peered around Holland’s shoulder, but she didn’t see her grumpy brother coming down the hall. “Is he home?”

“He’s still asleep.” Holland moved aside, holding her arm out. “He didn’t even budge when you knocked.”

“That’s unlike him.” Gemma mumbled, pushing the pram into Harry’s flat. “He’s usually a restless sleeper.”

“So am I, but we had a really nice snooze last night.” Holland chuckled, shutting the door behind them before crossing her arms over her chest. “I can go wake him up-”

“Don’t it’s okay.” Gemma turned back to Holland, biting at the inside of her cheek before she looked down at her son. “He deserves a good bit of rest.”

His eyes were glued to Holland, as if he was absolutely mesmerized by the mystical woman.

“Are you good with kids?” Gemma asked.

“I have five brothers and sisters.” Holland chuckled, nodding her head. “There’s even one that’s probably about the same age as this handsome young man, actually. Her name is Avery.”

“Oh.” Gemma was almost shocked by the number. “That’s a lot of kids.”

“It is.” Holland shrugged. “But I love having a big family, so I don’t mind. Did you want me to take him off of your hands until Harry is up?”

“I don’t want to be a bother-”

“Nonsense, Gemma.” Holland waved her hand about. “What’s his name?”

“Noah.” Gemma watched Holland as she crouched in front of her two year old, a bright smile on her face.

“Hi Noah, I’m Holland.” She said. “But you can call me Holly if that’s easier.”

“Holly, hi.” Noah said. “Holly, hi.”

“Hi.” Holland chuckled, reaching out to tickle his side. “You’re a lovely little lad, aren’t you? All smiles, just like your Mum.”

“Mum.” Noah looked back at his mother with a beaming smile. “Mum, hi!”

“Holy fuck.” Gemma whispered, catching Holland's attention. “Holland, he’s never been able to say anything other than Harry and Hi.”

“Really?” Holland gasped, looking back at Noah. “You’re making Mum proud today, aren’t you?”

“Mum!” Noah cheered the name again, lifting his hands towards Holland. “Mum, hi!”

“You’re an angel.” Gemma mumbled. “Or like, a miracle worker.”

“Nope, just really good with babies and kids.” Holland laughed as she started to unbuckle Noah from his pram. “If you need to go, you can. I’ll probably take him back to Harry so they can both nap for a little longer.”

“I think I love you.” Gemma blinked at Holly, watching as she settled her son onto her hip with a soft laugh. “I owe you big time, Holland.”

“You owe me nothing.” Holland reached out, taking the diaper bag from Gemma’s shoulder. “You should get going so you aren’t late for work.”

“Um, yeah.” Gemma nodded. “Harry can reach me if he needs anything, and if he can’t get ahold of me just tell him to ring Niall. He’s got Noah’s schedule down pretty well and he knows all of the emergency numbers-”

“Go, Gemma.” Holland instructed. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, okay.” She nodded, walking around the pram to place a kiss on Noah’s forehead. “You be good for Holly and Uncle Knobhead, okay?”

“Harry!” Noah cheered out. “Holly, hi!

“I love you.” Gemma kissed his forehead one more time before shooting Holland another grateful glance. “Thanks, Holly.”

“Anytime!”

Holland waved Gemma off before looking down at Noah with a bright smile.

“You seem like a smart lad, Noah.” Holland said. “Do you want to hear some stories about Santa and his elves?”

“Santa!” Noah cheered.

“That’s the Christmas spirit I’m looking for.”

❄️❄️❄️❄️

Harry’s POV

When Harry opened his eyes a second time that morning, Holland was gone.

Immediately, panic flooded his veins, and he shot up out of bed.

He reached for his glasses as he fumbled from under the duvet, his feet hitting the ground with a thud before he moved towards his bathroom. He poked his head into the small room, his heart nearly stopping when he realized Holland wasn’t in there. So he took off down the hallway, towards the kitchen in a sprint. Halfway to the open concept living room/kitchen combination, he smelled something sweet. He stopped when he heard tiny giggles that sounded all too familiar.

He waited for a beat, holding his breath as he heard Holland talking softly before the giggles started up again. Harry slowly moved forward, his eyes landing on Noah in his booster seat at the breakfast bar with Holland next to him, her body twisted towards the ginger haired toddler as he waved his little plastic fork around. Holland tossed her head back in a laugh when Noah gurgled something akin to a full sentence out of his mouth, but it was all gibberish.

Harry smiled, shaking his head as he walked towards Holland.

“You were supposed to stay in bed with me.” His morning voice rumbled through his chest, and both Holland and Noah snapped their heads back.

“Harry, hi!” Noah cheered out, swinging his legs in his seat.

“Hiya, bubs.” Harry’s palm landed on Holland’s back as he stood between the chairs, his lips going to the top of Noah’s head before he turned to look at Holland. “Did you make pancakes?”

“I did.” She nodded proudly, smiling up at Harry with bright eyes. “I also learned how to use a coffee pot, but I’m not sure exactly what coffee is supposed to taste like.”

“I’m sure it’s perfect.” Harry leaned forward, pressing his lips to Holland’s before pulling back ever so slightly. “I think I could get used to this.”

“The pancakes or-”

“You know what I mean.” He rolled his eyes, pressing another kiss to her lips. “You taste like maple syrup.”

“You could taste like maple syrup if you fixed yourself a plate, Harry.” Holland giggled, ducking her chin down in an attempt to avoid more kisses from him. “Harry-”

“Why would I do that if I could just keep doing this?” He asked, pouting his lips out ever so slightly. “Holland, please.”

“Later.” She said, pressing her palm to his warm and sturdy chest. “I was thinking that we could take Noah out to the park today, and maybe to visit Niall.”

“I don’t want to see Niall on my day off.” Harry groaned, dropping his head back. “He’s such a wanker.”

“Wanker!” Noah cheered out, a giggle following after. “Wanker!”

Harry snapped his head around to Noah before looking at Holland with wide eyes.

“Did...he...when did he learn that?” Harry squeaked out. “Mate, don’t let your third word be wanker, your Mum will kill me.”

“That wasn’t his third word.” Holland popped a maple syrup drenched piece of pancake into her mouth, smirking at Harry. “Holland was his third and-”

“Mum!” Noah called out. “Mum!”

“That was his third.” Holland pointed towards Noah as Harry blinked at her, his eyes still wide and slightly glazed over. “I think you might need some coffee, gumdrop.”

“Yeah, I might.” He mumbled. “I missed all of that in just a few hours?”

“You needed some rest, Harry, it’s fine.” Holland laughed, eating a few more pieces of pancake as Noah tried his best to spear one piece with his plastic fork.

“You did too, but you were up making enough pancakes to feed the royal fucking family.” He looked down at the plate, and then back at Holland. “Why did you make so many?”

“I only know a few pancake recipes and they’re all for my family.” She shrugged. “There are a bunch of us, so it makes sense.”

Harry looked back at Holland as he reached for the coffee pot, a curious gaze on his face as she continued to eat her pancakes in silence. He watched her munch on the sickeningly sweet breakfast food, soft little hums tumbling from her lips as she got lost in her own little world. His chest felt warm, and his hands were shaky as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“You’re not gonna put anything in that?” Harry watched Holland sit up on the leg that she had tucked under her bum, peering at his up as he lifted it. “That’s gross.”

“It’s not gross at all.” He rolled his eyes. “We don’t all have an obsession with sugar.”

“I don’t have an obsession, Harry, I just prefer sugar.” She shook her head at him, stabbing her pancake.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” He hummed out, reaching for a plate as Holland giggled to herself. “What’s so funny?”

“You help me sleep at night, gumdrop.” He glanced over at her, watching her cheeks tinge a darker shade of pink. “I guess I really do have to move in.”

“Don’t tempt me.” Harry mumbled. “I’ll go across the hall right now.”

“Maybe after your pancakes and the park, gumdrop.” She snorted, rolling her eyes. “Oh, by the way, your sister said that she loves me. I think I’ve been adopted into your family!”

She’s not the only one that loves you, baby.

Harry bit his tongue, holding the words back.

“Guess we’ll have to hang a stocking with your name on her mantle.” Harry mumbled, tossing a few pancakes onto his place.

Holland beamed at him, her eyes just as soft as her smile.

Yeah, Harry was definitely in love.

❄️❄️❄️❄️

November 14 Holland’s POV

Holland and Harry ended up pushing their pizza date back a few days.

They spent an entire day with Harry’s nephew, playing at the park and eating lunch in a small cafe just down the street from Harry’s record shop. Holland figured out that Harry actually owned the business, and that he’d been running it successfully for three years. He bought it after spending an entire year working morning, noon, and night. He spent most of his time babysitting Noah while interning for a digital media company, so most of his time was spent in Gemma’s flat. He saved up enough money to put the deposit down, and then he got a loan to buy off the rest. He broke even the first year, his shop booming with uni students and the like.

Holland could see just how proud Harry was when he talked about the shop, and that little glimpse of passion for something other than Noah and Gemma told her a little more about Harry’s personality. He had a hard work ethic, and he chased after the things he wanted in life without hesitation. That was an extremely admirable trait for him to have, and Holland had to admit it made her want him just a little more than before. But it was only one of the things that had her head over heels for the long haired lad she’d been spending so much time with.

Seeing him with Noah made her heart ache, but in a good way.

Holland was only slightly afraid that she might not be able to have that kind of life with Harry. It sucked, but she had to think about the negative outcome that could occur if she didn’t get to work on increasing Harry’s Christmas Spirit. He was slowly coming around to certain things, and his little comment about hanging a stocking with Holland’s name on Gemma’s mantle made her think that maybe he was finally coming around to the idea...but then some kid in a santa hat nearly knocked him over at the park and he went right back to snarling about Christmas.

It was two days later now, and they still hadn’t sat down for an official talk about everything that was going on. After their park day, Gemma had fallen asleep on Harry’s sofa before they got back with her son. Harry ended up tucking Gemma in his bed with Noah before sneaking off to Holland’s for a much needed night of peaceful sleep. The next morning, they decided to take Noah off of Gemma’s hands again, and they ended up going to the city part of London to be a bit more touristy. They rode the London Eye, and stood outside of Buckingham Palace with all of the other tourists visiting London. Harry hated it, but Holland and Noah loved every second.

That night went exactly like the night before, but Gemma was awake when they returned to Harry’s flat. They ended up inviting Niall, Mitch, and Sarah over to enjoy some Indian takeout while they watched Frozen on Harry’s tv. Noah sat in Holland’s lap the whole time, and they both tuckered out about halfway through the movie. Niall quickly removed Noah from Holland’s grasp before tucking him into his pram with a thick blanket. After everyone left for the night, Harry cleared up the takeout containers before convincing Holland to climb into his bed.

Now, she was sitting on his lap with her fingers pressing against his chest and he was dying.

“Why are you awake? He groaned, tossing his arm over his eyes to block the bright light of the sun from his eyes. “It’s too early for you to be this happy.”

“I’m well rested, Harry!” She giggled, patting his pectoral muscles. “And I think I have a few ideas about our situation, but I need to go out for the day to figure them out.”

“Okay.” He slowly moved his arm. “I’ll go with you.”

“You work at the record store today, you can’t.” She shook her head, her ponytail swinging back and forth. She could see the look in Harry’s eyes when it did, the soft swaying catching his attention. “What?”

“Nothing.” He cleared his throat, adjusting his hips ever so slightly. “Um, Holland, you might want to get off of me.”

“Why?” She asked, tilting her head to the side as her fingers slipped down to his abdomen, resting gently by his butterfly. “Am I too heavy? Oh my garland, I’m so sorry!”

“No, you’re not too heavy, baby.” He grunted when she shifted her hips, her center brushing against his cock in a way that had his head spinning. “Fuck.”

“Oh.” Holland whispered, her lips pressing together in amusement and her eyes growing wide as she stopped in her tracks. “Pippa told me about this.”

“Oh my god.” Harry let out a breathless chuckle. “What is this exactly?”

“Um, your situation.” She glanced between them. “Back home, one of my friends named Eira dated this really mischievous elf, and he was a proper bad boy. He taught her a whole bunch of stuff, and she told me everything.”

“An elf?” Harry said slowly, his brows furrowing. “Holland-”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She lifted her hands to her lips, a soft gasp flying past her lips. “I keep forgetting that we still have to have the talk.”

“Well, I’m a little more interested in this talk.” He sat up, brushing his lips against hers. “What exactly did Eira teach you?”

“Well, she just explained that sometimes guys get really...stiff when they’re attracted to someone, and that it’s a good thing.” Holland shrugged. “She also told me about blowjobs and like...other things, but I swore I’d never talk about that because we could definitely get in trouble.”

“What do other things mean, baby?” His brows lifted as he looked at Holland’s bright pink cheeks. “You’re not gonna get in trouble with me, I promise, but if you’re not comfortable talking to me about it then you don’t have to.”

“Harry.” She said his name softly, ducking her head down. “I can’t really say, because it was more of a demonstration if you know what I mean.”

“Did she go down on you?” Harry asked, his lips curving into a smirk as Holland’s lips parted, her breath stuck in her throat.

Holland wasn’t that innocent.

There were a few boys back in the Pole that she’d kissed, but she’d never done anything sexual….not until Eira. She was the only person that Holland felt comfortable showing that side to. They were just friends, and though Holland found Eira very attractive, she knew that they would never actually date. Eira was more of a lone wolf kind of gal, and she didn’t plan on settling down with someone like Holland. She preferred more seasoned people with experience, because teaching really wasn’t her thing.

“Um, kind of.” She c;eared her throat, lifting her hand up to scratch at the back of her neck as Harry’s smile grew. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“I thought you were so innocent.” He whispered. “And it was hot, believe me, but this information might make you slightly hotter.”

“Shut up.” Holland groaned, dropping her head forward to rest on his shoulder. “I’m technically a princess, Harry, I’m not meant to be with anyone before my husband.”

“There’s nothing wrong with having a little fun, Holland.” Harry brushed his palms up and down her back, his lips pressing soft kisses into her shoulder. “You weren’t doing anything wrong.”

“Thanks, gumdrop.” Holland lifted her head up, giving him a tiny smile. “You’re not upset with me, are you?”

“No, I’m not.” He reassured her, pressing his lips to hers. “I mean...I’m not exactly a saint, Holland. I’ve had my fair share of one night stands in the past.”

“And did you enjoy them?” She asked.

“When I think about it now, not really…” He hummed out, tilting his head to the side. “But I remember liking it back then.”

“Would you ever…” Holland felt the embarrassment creeping up, her face heating up again as Harry stared at her. “Would you ever want to do anything like that with me?”

He didn’t say anything, causing Holland to look down at her hands.

She started picking at the polish on her nails, a soft burn starting behind her eyes.

Of course someone like Harry wouldn’t want someone like her.

She was a nuisance, and an intrusion in his life. She still had so much to learn about the modern world, and it wasn’t fair that she was dumping it all on Harry. He had a lot going on in his life, and it wasn’t his job to keep her entertained. She shifted on his thighs, suddenly uncomfortable in her own skin as his palms stopped rubbing against her back.

“Look at me.” Harry whispered, the tone of his voice stern, but gentle. “Holland, show me your eyes, baby.”

“I don’t want to.” She whispered. “I’m embarrassed.”

“You don’t ever have to be embarrassed around me, Holland, I promise.” He slipped a hand around, gripping her chin lightly before he guided it up. “I would very much like to do that kind of stuff with you, I really would…”

“But-”

“But I’m so fucking scared to get too attached because I know where this is going, and I’m fucking petrified.” He inhaled, his jaw tensing up. “I already feel so much for you, and I can’t stand the thought of losing you as it is. If I give you that part of me, losing you will literally destroy me, and I won’t hesitate to go under that water with you.”

“You can’t do that to Gemma and Noah-”

“I know, that’s why I’m suggesting that we hold off on that aspect of our relationship.” He whispered, brushing his thumb over Holland’s chin. “Because even though I want that with you, I have to learn to be selfless for once in my life. It would be too much, and I’m a weak man when it comes to you baby.”

“Can I tell you something without you freaking out?” She asked, causing Harry to nod. “Do you remember when I asked you about soulmates?”

“Yes.” He said softly.

“The reason that we have shared dreams, and this strong connection, is because we’re like...the highest form of soulmate there can be.” She watched his face as she spoke. “Most souls are made from the ash of one star, but we were made from a really special star, so it’s really intense for us.”

“Why is our star so special?” He asked.

“Because it’s the Christmas Star.” She looked into his eyes, holding her breath as his face twisted and contorted. “Your soul, and mine, are both souls with true Christmas spirit. It’s really rare for people to keep their Christmas spirit as they get older, but you still have a little left, and that’s what makes you vulnerable to Jack Frost.”

Harry stared back at her, his eyes trailing over his face as he tried to process her words.

She could see the gears turning in his mind, the conflict clear on his face.

“Harry?”

“I just need….” He shifted under Holland, and she moved until she was on the other side of the bed. She watched him slide off the mattress, his feet moving quicker than his mind. “I need some time, Holland.”

“Don’t shut me out.” She pleaded. “We need each other-”

“I don’t need anyone.” He snapped, turning back to look at her with wet eyes. “I don’t...I don’t need you.”

Holland felt her heart turn to ice as she stared at him.

“My life was fine without you in it.” He said. “I didn’t ask for you to come here from whatever fucking dreamland you live in to remind me of the things I hate most in life. And you’re one big fucking reminder, Holland. I don’t see why Christmas is so fucking important to everyone or why it’s so important for me to like it!”

Holland flinched, shrinking in on herself as he paced at the foot of his bed.

“Why do you hate it so much, Harry?” She asked. “What happened?”

“You don’t get to know.” He seethed, brushing his fingers through his hair. “Fuck, I can’t do this.”

“You have to, or-”

“I don’t care.” He shouted. “Whatever it is, I don’t care.”

Holland felt her eyes well up with tears, her fingers tense and her muscles tight.

“Okay.” She said. “I’m gonna go.”

“I think that’s best.” He said, turning his back towards her before he walked into his bathroom, slamming the door shut.

Holland felt the tears flowing down her cheeks before she even made it to her own flat.

She knew that he was hurt, and this was his defense that he put up to protect his heart, but that didn’t make his words hurt any less. She knew that he cared about her, that he needed her just the same as she needed him. He just needed some time to learn these new feelings that he had, and Holland had to give him space to do that, even if it hurt.

So she climbed into her bed, and she cried into her pillow until she fell asleep.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles christmas fic #harry styles original fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry imagine #harry one shot #harry writing #harry smut #harry fluff #long haired harry #deck the halls

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h0neyjaehyun · 3 years

Text

☁︎ 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 ☁︎

Summary // Tali's period decided to pay a visit and everyone now gets to see what some girls go through.

Characters // Talia Flores + Nct 127 + Nct Dream (Except : Jaemin Mentions: Her mother)

Era / Year // November 2017

Word Count //

⚠️Warning⚠️ // Periods??

As many people do, people go through puberty, and Talia is no different. As most people call it, she pulled a Jungkook on us. She also had her period, the boys were ready for it and everything, but she never really showed signs she was on her period.

She got her period when she was 13 years old, and has it every 3 -4 months. She is irregular, but usually in that span she would get it, unless she is on a diet that is quiet dangerous then no period at all. When she does have her period the side effects she has is cramps, headache, nausea, and last but not least mood swings her mood swings are more emtional, like she cries more easily. Talia is one to be able to control her mood so mood swings she is able to hide pretty well but sometimes she slips up.

During the trainee days the boys didn't really care about her period, thats until they started living with her remember oh yeah, periods.

They don't ask, and she doesn't say, why? Cause she feels awkward asking them for stuff like pads, or ibuprofen etc. So she asks her personal manager or one of the girls from Blackpink.

Thats when one day, her period decided, hey...you gonna be in pain.

Tali woke up to pain on her stomach and head, she groan out in pain knowing, today is gonna be a long day. She went to the bathroom and got tampons and ibuprofen, she sat on the ground for a second so the pill can work, she sighed in relief when it started working but knowing her body its gonna come back up in a couple hours maybe even minutes. She got up and saw all of dream preparing breakfast.

"Hey sleepy head, you woke up late, when did you sleep." Jaemin nagged at her.

"Hmm, I don't remember but Im still tired." She mumbled as she sat next to Jeno and layed her head on his shoulder.

They all looked her worried, she seemed more tired then usual.

"EVERYONE!"

Everyone turned to the door and they saw Mark at the door they all looked at him confused.

"Lets go, we are gonna be late to the recording."

He hurried them. Talia's face filled with annoyance but reminded herself, do not take it out on them, do not take it out on them, they are just reminding you just go change. She chanted to herself, as she went to her room. Mark noticed her tiredness, but decided it was nothing.

She changed, brung her stuff for her period and a brown bag, as she feels like since her pain is this bad, nausea is bound to happen which equals throwing up. She left her room and everyone was there and they left, she texted her personal manager say she has her period, but she might have to canceled the recording session since its bad.

She remembered that Karma said she went on birth control to stop her period and she thought about it but thought...no I can handle it...boy was she wrong today.

They got in the car and she could feel her pain comeback its just has been 30 minutes maybe a little more, and in the car out of all times she thought. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath trying not to groan in pain.

They got to the company building as she was about to step down a sharp pain hit her abdomen, she yelped in pain and she she squeezed the door handle.

"Noona you okay?" Jeno asked as he was right behind and saw nothing could have hit her.

"Yeah I just...hit my finger on the door." She made a quick excuse. But the boys were not buying it, but they let it go. They walked in the building and went to the studio.

She sat down in silence as the boys were eyeing her. They knew about her period she just never shows it, so they don't know whats wrong.

"Lets start guys, who is gonna go first?" One of the producers asked mostly looking at Tali but she shook her head no, he got the hint and went on to Haechan. The boys saw the interaction, and now wondering whats wrong.

Tali moved up to the seat next to the producer. He whispered.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I just got it today, and its a bad one...you got a water?" She asked him and he knew what she meant. He grabbed a water and handed it to her.

"So thats why you canceled the recording?" Tali nodded

"Yeah, I took ibuprofen 30 minutes ago and my pain has comeback so I'm gonna take another one."

He nodded, she grabbed her pills thinking no one was looking, as it seems the boys were looking at their lines, but in reality they were all looking at her.

They were worried and then when she got pills out of her bag, they were even more worried. She took them and put them bag quickly. They were confused. They saw her lean back and sigh with relief.

"You wanna go next?"

"Yeah, while this pill is working." She whispered, she got up went in the studio and smiled at Haechan but when she got in return was a worried look.

"Whats wrong?" She said to him.

"I should be asking you that, are you sure you hit your hand on the door or are you in pain somewhere else,Noona don't lie to me." Haechan warned, since Talia is not a big lier but when it comes to her health and pain she does.

"I'll be fine, okay, if I can live a day of dieting I can live through pain, don't worry yourself. Im a grown woman." She shook her head playfully at him, making it seem she was okay.

He was half convinced she was okay but the other half he knew she was lying about being okay.

She started recording and managed pretty well. She left with Mark and Haechan to practice with 127 she went up first then the other two behind her. They were looking at her for any sign of pain or discomfort but couldn't find any.

They made it to practice and she smiled at the guys. The choreographer called Tali to him before they started.

"Hey you good? I know how bad your cramps and nausea get, just tell me when you can't handle the pain anymore or dizzy, cause I've seen it." He said, she nodded and smiled.

"I'll try."

He nodded knowing she will just fight through the pain like usual.

They continued practice, before they got there Haechan texted them that Tali is in pain but he doesn't know how. So they kept an eye on her, she noticed but decided to go through it like normal. Thats when her pill wore off on her kick in Cherry Bomb when she stood on leg, her legs gave up on her and her abdomen felt like it was getting stabbed.

They guys ran up to her Jaehyun catching her on her way down he could see her almost crying and whimpering in pain.

"I told you when you feel the pain stop practicing especially this time but nope." The choreographer shook his head and grabbed water and ibuprofen. Tali look at it and shook her head knowing her period it probably won't work.

"Its not gonna work, I already took 3." She huffed feeling her abdomen in pain, she groan in pain.

"Whats wrong?" Yuta asked her, worried why the girl is in so much pain.

"She got her period, today and its nasty one too." The choreographer explain.

"Take her home and someone stay with her, cause her period side effects are not the best."

"What side effects? I thought it was only cramps?" Mark asked innocently.

"Well yeah, but with her its a lot, for example she has, cramps and bad ones, headaches, and nausea. Sometimes mood swings but she is good at handling that." He explained the boys eyes widen theh look at Tali who is now curling up on Jaehyuns lap in pain.

"Okay we will take her home." Doyoung said.

"Jaehyun you carry her and Johnny grab her stuff. The rest look up what good to grab for a bad period and go buy it." Doyoung instructed. The members scattered wanting Talia not to be in pain anymore.

Jaehyun and Johnny when back home first and Jaehyun layed Talia on Haechan's bed he was about to leave when Tali grabbed his hand.

"No, please don't leave I don't wanna be alone." She whined, he chuckled and went under the blanket with her on his chest. He was petting her hair, but she still wasn't able to go to sleep because of the pain. They heard the boys come through the door thats when she got up quickly and ran to the bathroom. All the boys saw her run and they started to go after her and they saw her throwing up.

Yuta went quickly to hold her hair up and rub her back. She put her face up catching her breath then flushed the toilet and layed back on Yutas chest.

"Ah, sorry, when it gets this bad I have nausea, so you will probably see me in the bathroom a lot." She smiled at them apologetically.

"No no, you don't have to be sorry, but that means you are gonna have to eat more." Taeyong stated, Talia shaked her head vigorously no.

"Yes, you are gonna dehydrate if you don't." Doyoung slightly raised his voice at her. She was gonna glare at him but closed her eyes and turned Yutas chest and sank in his arms.

They boys could see her holding back her comments and attitude, which assumed were her mood swings then Yutas eyes widen which made them worried he picked up Tali's face which kinda spooked him how quiet she was crying.

"Oh oh why are you crying?" Yuta asked softly, knowing the result of a louder voice will probably make her cry even more. Doyoung's eyes widen as he felt guilt rush through him, as the others were surprised how quiet Tali was crying or she was crying in general.

"Be- because I don't deserve you guys a-and Doyoung raised his voice at me and I was gonna say something mean but I remembered he doesn't deserved it he just cares for mee~" She whaled at the end as Yuta hugged her head as she wrapped her arms around his torso.

You could see the guilt on Doyoung's face when she said that, and noted when on her period don't raise his voice. He went in and pulling her to him, she looked up at saw his face she was about to pull away but saw the caring look in his eyes.

"Sorry for raising my voice, Im not mad and you know that but can you atleast eat a snack here and there." He asked softly, she nodded her head cutely which made the boys even more soft because some people have ugly face when they cry and some don't. Tali doesn't, her cheeks and nose goes to a rosie color while her eyes dilate and she looks like a doll.

She was about to hug Doyoung but yanked back, and went to throw up in the toilet again. The boys winced at the action as the also see Tali holding her stomach, she leans back on Yut's chest again, as Yuta plays with her hair.

"Hey uh..." She hesitated.

"No tells us its okay." WinWin said trying to reassure her as she gave him doe eyes, he went soft.

"Can someone get my uh, heating pad." As she closed her eyes tightly, her hands on her abdomen.

"Of course princess." Taeyong said as he went to grab the heating pad and heat it up.

"Im gonna go make food okay." Doyoung said and kissed her head and left, she nodded. Now the boys were around the bathroom not wanting to leave Tali's side.

"Shoot." She whispered but everyone heard.

"What is it?" Haechan whispered but worried.

"Uh..." She still looked hesitant.

"Its okay, just tell us we will do it." Taeil reassured her.

"Uh can someone grab my bag for a...tampon." She said embarrassed. The boys smiled at her flustered state. Johnny got up and grabbed the the tampons but got confused.

"Uh Tali which one?" He held up a box filled with different tampons. Talia laughed but winced, the boys looked at her with worry.

"Im okay, its fine just give it to me but can you get out please?" She smiled. They nodded and left. Once she finished she opened the dorm to see a smiling Taeyong with her heating pad her put it on her abdomen and she sighed in relief, but then dream barged in.

"NOONA?"

The boys went to the bathroom where most of the boys were surrounded. They saw her laying on Taeyong looking at them with a surprised look on her face.

"Why didn't you tell us you were hurting, huh?!" Renjun raised his voice a little which wouldn't really matter if Tali wasn't on her period didn't consider it related to her mother. The dreamies and 127 members saw her eyes water and slowly she started to cry. Which threw off the dreamies.

"I-im sorry, I didn't want to bother you, and we were going to record which was al- already stressful so I didn't want you to look after your noona." Tali hiccuped as she cried, and the look on Renjun's face couldn't have felt more guilty, thinking he made Talia cry. Before he could say anything she said

"Im sorry I'm am emotional mess." Which broke them seeing her like that Taeyong held her head to his chest rocking her back and fourth.

"Shh its okay. We love you okay, remember that." He said kissing her head. Trying to rock her to sleep.

Renjun was standing there feeling guilty thinking he did something wrong to make Talia cry. But Doyoung went up to him and patted him on the back.

"You didn't do anything wrong, right now she is emotional, Haechan will expain the do's and don'ts that we have learn while she is on her period." Doyoung expain to the dreamies, they nodded and went to Haechans room.

They entered and Renjun was feeling guilty, yeah she was on her period but he felt like he did such a terrible thing. Haechan noticed.

"Yeah I saw, its fine it happened to Doyoung too, but what we have learned so far is that she has bad cramps, headaches, nausea and mood swings."

"Is that why she is in the bathroom?" Chenle asked, Haechan nodded.

The dreamies felt helpless, they cant do much for their noona.

Next day.....

Tali woke up in Haechan's bed, with Renjun hugging her, she guessed he felt bad for making her cry, now and now she felt bad for overreacting.

Then she stopped herself if she thought more about what happen she would cry again. She got up and saw everyone around sleeping, she felt guilty for making them worry but then she felt something and knew what was coming.

She ran to the bathroom which made everyone wake up and look around seeing Tali up which meant she went to throw up. They felt guity not being able to help. Renjun woke pretty fast and ran after her, he saw her throwing up and held her hair back and hugged her.

"You okay?" He asked softly. She nodded.

"I know its weird, but can you bring me a tampon any is fine." He nodded and left. She huffed and layed her head back.

"Im so going on birth control."

83 notes · View notes

jimlingss · 4 years

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Sugar and Coffee [1]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

➜ Words: 3.8k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

Baking is an art form. It takes more than just having ingredients and following a recipe. It’s the flavour, texture, taste, and the presentation. It’s knowing why when things go wrong and how to fix it. It’s knowing the right kinds of ingredients to pick, how much of each should be combined, what techniques and methods to use. Baking is therapy. Baking is scientific. It is art. The ingredients are as follows:

Fresh strawberries

Sponge cake

Sugar

Heavy cream

Vanilla extract

You slice the freshly washed strawberries into halves as the stand mixer whips the two cups of heavy cream and quarter cup of sugar into medium peaks. Once you’ve got your components prepared, you slice the cooled sponge cake into two layers and set the bottom layer on a cake board on the turning cake table. You spread the whipped cream evenly with an offset spatula and layer the strawberries with cream on top. Afterwards, you place the other sponge cake on top and repeat the process. You finish the shortcake with strawberries on top for decorative purposes and pipe flowers with a twelve inch piping bag. “Very well done! Everyone give a round of applause for Y/N’s shortcake demonstration.” The teacher claps and the students around the counter follow suit. “Now it’s time for the real test.” She begins slicing the cake into pieces, but you’re not nervous whatsoever. You know you did a great job and your strawberry shortcake is worthy of salivating over. And as expected, while your classmates take careful bites and allow the flavour to linger on their tongue, there’s nothing but praise. “Wow, the sponge cake is so soft and moist.” “The cream is so smooth.” “It’s so fluffy.” “It’s melting in my mouth.” Even the teacher is nodding as she eats. But of course— “Isn’t it too sweet?” Jeon Jungkook has his brows deeply furrowed with a soured expression like he bit into a fucking lemon. His fork is cleaned but he puts the utensil down with a noisy clank, not wanting another bite. A muscle in your cheek twitches. “Didn’t you say that last time?” “Yeah.” He shrugs. “But you didn’t follow my advice. Obviously.” “Maybe you just have sensitive teeth, Jonhson.” “I don’t,” Jungkook deadpans, not appreciating how you pretend that you don’t know his name. “I don’t see anyone else complaining.” “Because they’re too nice to. If you can’t take criticism, then there’s nothing I can do, Y/N.” There are eyes flickering around. This happens often enough that no one’s particularly surprised, but there’s still bated breath held amongst your classmates. You open your mouth to retort. But the teacher eats with a thoughtful look, and then nods. “You’re right, Jungkook. You could lessen the sugar just a tad, Y/N. The strawberries are quite sweet this time around. Just goes to show that ingredients might always change, everyone!” “Okay.” You force a smile. “I’ll make a note of it.” “Alright class, now that we saw the demonstration, off you go! Watch that whipping cream! It shouldn’t be soft or hard peaks!” Everyone turns to leave, but your glare connects with Jeon’s until he turns around all the way. No matter what you make — Jeon Jungkook always complains that it’s too sweet. He’s a fucking ass. “What was up with that?” There are audible murmurs behind you. “I thought they were going to fight.” “In the kitchen? No. Maybe outside — but you know how it is.” “They still hate each other over the September incident?” “Well Jeon almost got Y/N expelled….” You turn around and once they realize they’ve been caught gossiping, they look away with big eyes and they quicken their hands. “So, uh, pass me the cream!” “Y-Yeah.” The teacher brings your attention back as she finishes marking the rubric. “Thanks for doing that demonstration for the whole class, Y/N. Job well done as usual. Just lessen the sweetness and you’re good to go.” You’re given ninety five percent. Full marks lost because of that asshat. You hope he can feel your glare on his backside. Eventually class ends and with your station all cleaned, hands washed, and apron put aside, you leave. Outside of the room, is the most handsome man on the planet waiting for you. The person who you love wholeheartedly. The person you’re most excited to see. Your person. He’s dressed in a white turtleneck sweater that you got him last year for his birthday, black jeans, and that baby blue trench that’s always soft to the touch. His dark hair is brushed and he’s leaning against the wall casually. But the glimmer in his sheepish eyes betrays the nonchalant exterior he tries to put on. And the corner of his plump lip pulls into a tender smile. “Hey—oof!” Laughter bubbles out of Seokjin’s mouth and his arms wrap around your frame after you quite literally leaped onto him. You barely manage to pull away from the man, having the strongest urge to stick to him forever. “I missed you.” You pout and he grins. “Missed you too, sweetheart.” You lean in to kiss your boyfriend silly. He holds you by your waist and you greet his plump, soft lips that makes you melt in a chaste peck. After a moment, you break away and he wraps an arm around your shoulder. “Should we go?” “Yeah.” Your steps sync together. “You won’t believe what happened to me today.” “What happened? Tell me.” The pair of you walk down the corridor together as the rest of the class continues to spill out. There are girls who caught sight of the heartwarming interaction and they hold their books to their chest as they sigh wistfully. “God, I’m so jealous. I want to be in love too. When am I going to get a boyfriend?” “At this rate, never.” “Hey! Rude!” “I’m kidding!” She giggles. “You just won’t get someone like Seokjin.” “Let’s be real, no one is gonna get someone like Seokjin — he’s just...perfect.” “They’re such a good couple, aren’t they? They’re gonna have such pretty…” Their voices fade, but Jungkook exits and hears their commentary. He turns to steal a glance at your backside down the hall. Jungkook scoffs audibly. “What?” Taehyung catches up to his best friend and swings an arm over his shoulder. The same-height brunette follows his line of sight and hums. “Jealous you’re not in a relationship?” “As if. It’s just pathetic, is all.” Jungkook looks away and they make their own way to the dining hall. “You really handed it to Y/N today.” Taehyung grins mischievously. “Like damn. I didn’t think her cake was half-bad. But you’re not scared it’s gonna come bite you in the ass, Kook? Y/N’s gonna hammer you down when it’s your turn for demonstration.” “So what? Like she knows what she’s even doing.” “Are you sure about that? She seems pretty decent at what she does to me.” “Decent isn’t good enough,” he says blankly. “She thinks she’s the shit but she came here to follow her boyfriend.” Taehyung whistles. “You still mad over September?” “She just irks me. Always has.” “Right, didn’t you guys go to high school together? You, Jin and her…” “We never talked. Whatever, it’s not worth talking about and wasting our time. Hey, what’s on the menu for lunch?” “You tell me. Jimin never texts us what’s new today. Dude just eats and then goes.” “What class does he even have right now?” “Bakery safety and sanitation.” Jungkook grins, remembering just how nightmarish that class was. “Rip.” The two of them turn the corner, moving the opposite way from you and Seokjin, and the hallway empties out.

Anxiousness boils at the pit of your stomach. Today’s the day you’ve been waiting for ever since you found out your application was accepted into the institution and you were successfully enrolled. Whatever results appear, it might dictate where you’re headed in the near and far future. The experience that you gain in these two years will pave the path to your career after all. “It’s today?” Moonbyul puts down her spoon. “Isn’t the paid internship in May? It’s only November.” “The posting went up for us in November too,” Hani pipes up past a mouthful of eggs. “Remember?” “Did it? It was so long ago, I forgot.” “It was only last year.” Sandeul rolls his eyes. “You haven’t gotten that old.” “I sure feel like it.” “Well if anything, you sure look like it.” “Umm, excuse me?” “Okay, okay, guys,” Your boyfriend interrupts with a laugh. “You’re freaking out Y/N even more.” They mutter apologies, but you smile. In an attempt to calm yourself down, you ask, “Where did you guys end up going?” After all, they’re a year ahead of you and they’ve been through the entire process. Any advice is helpful advice at this point. “Sandeul and I got hired by a hotel,” Hani says, “The Marriott. It was a pretty sweet gig, kind of tough though. Out of the entire class, I think five of us went there in total, so we were pretty lucky that we knew each other. It was long hours, but I learned a lot.” Sandeul scoffs. “Can’t say I did.” “When do you ever learn?” Moonbyul bites back. “My internship was at a private club,” Ken recalls, interjecting as the two of them argue again. “But all I baked was bread all day. It was awful.” “Oh god.” You look to Seokjin. “What if I have to bake bread all day? I hate yeast.” Jin laughs and he lifts his thumb to affectionately swipe at the corner of your mouth, getting the spaghetti sauce off your skin where you missed. “You’ll be fine. Promise. You’ll probably get hired at a catering company like I did. Or maybe a pastry shop.” “God, I hope so.” “Which did you apply to?” Hani asks, playing with her noodles. “Just a bunch of them. Restaurants, catering companies, shops. I applied to I think ten.” “Oh, you should be fine then.” “But I heard sometimes they put you in ones you didn’t apply for.” “That rarely happens. Don’t worry about it.” She bats the air with her hand, easing your worries a little more. Your boyfriend smiles warmly. “See? Told you so.” You nod and check the time. It’s five minutes to noon. And with that realization, you get up. “We should go.” “Don’t they email you?” Sandeul asks, pulling himself away from his argument with Moonbyul and ignoring whatever half-hearted and playful insult she throws his way. “Yeah, but the physical posting gets put up faster.” You’re jittery, hopping on both feet and Jin chuckles before he gets up too, taking your food tray and his to dump into the trash. They wish you all the luck you need and you’re off with Seokjin by your side. You’re excited and afraid, not exactly sure what to expect. You just hope you get your internship by the same catering company as the one Seokjin had. They liked him enough that they’ve ensured him a position after he graduates. If they hire you too and you do well enough, they’ll hire you back and you’ll get to work with him. It would be absolutely perfect. You can already imagine it. A small apartment in the city. Working together. Coming home together. There’s not a better plan out there. The hallway is crowded with lots of people pushing past to look at the posting. There are loud conversations, eager claps and cheers, to disappointed sighs and whines. “Wait here, okay?” You turn to Jin, not wanting him to be stepped on or pushed by the crowd. “I’ll be right here.” He squeezes your hand before letting go. And you push past the horde of students. “Excuse me, excuse me. Sorry…” “Aw man, I have my internship at a grocery store?! This sucks.” — “The hell is Dog World.” — “Oh my god, oh my god! I got into the East Wood Country Club! Fuck yes!” Finally, you stumble out of the crowd to the very front. The list is grouped together by locations and you search your name on the paper posting. After an antagonizing minute, you find it. “Kim’s…..Wedding Cake Company….” Blood drains from your face. It runs cold. Jeon Jungkook is coming with you. // You stomp your foot and cross your arms. You’ve been pouting for the past hour. But you can’t help the distress — not when you were still unable to comprehend it. It was the worst news on Earth. You thought your eyes were wrong, that maybe the posting or printer made a mistake, but the email wasn’t any different either. “I can’t believe I have to go with that jerk! It’s all ruined!” “I know, baby.” Seokjin pouts with you, sympathizing with your situation. He pulls you in to plant a kiss at the top of your head. “But you’ll be okay. Promise.” The way he says it calms your nerves, but that doesn’t mean you still aren’t frustrated to no end. There was only one paid internship to be done. One that was supposed to pave your way, help with the rest of your career, teach you things that couldn’t be learned through lectures and classroom work. But your one shot is destroyed. In shambles. What should be a fantastic experience is going to be a dreadful one. Why did things never go right for you? “I just….I just really wanted to be hired at your company.” You look up at him, eyes stinging and glossy with tears that threaten to shed. Your plans are ruined. “It’s okay. You can always apply after graduation.” “I know.” You sigh. “But of all people, why him?” A few hours later, the pair of you catch up with your friends at the dining center for dinner, and they quickly notice the way you’re not necessarily jumping for joy, but rather grieving. “Not...good news, I presume?” Moonbyul gasps. “Did you not get hired anywhere-OW!” She rubs the spot where Sandeul smacked the back of her head for being tactless. “It’s not that,” you reassure them with a small smile. “My internship is at Kim’s Wedding Cake Company.” Ken’s eyes are enlarged. “Oh shit.” “Wedding cakes?!” Hani sharply inhales. “That’s brutal.” “No, it’s not that either. I don’t mind. It’s just…” You steal a glimpse at your boyfriend. For one, you wanted to go where he went and secondly— “I’m with Jeon Jungkook.” “Who?” Ken asks, brows furrowing. “You know, the black haired kid,” Moonbyul says in an attempt to jog his memory. But the man’s impassive expression doesn’t waver or alter. “You literally described at least a quarter of the population.” “The one that looks like a rabbit, you idiot.” Hani makes grand gestures. “The deer-looking fellow. You know, the cute one.” “Right!” He snaps his fingers, as if that was enough to remember him by. You shake your head. “He’s not cute. He’s an ass. Steer clear territory.” “Can’t you steer clear from him?” Sandeul asks before he slurps up his carbonara and then chews in his cheek. “There’s like what— four or five kids coming with you? You can probably avoid him if you wanted to.” “No.” It dawns on you just how bad the circumstances are. “Apparently only two of us are going there. At least I didn’t see anyone else assigned to that place. It’s only going to be just him and I.” “Yikes.” “Not helping, Hani.” Seokjin gives her a look that makes her sheepish and mumble an apology. “It’s not going to be that bad.” He reaches for your hand underneath the table, a private place without the prying eyes of his friends. “It’s only for three months and it’s during summer. It won’t happen for quite some time.” “Yeah.” You squeeze your hand tenderly with his. It’s wondrous how effective Seokjin’s reassurance is. You feel like there’s no reason for you to be afraid, for you to dread the inevitability. He makes you feel like you could take on anything. All plans have their obstacles. Maybe this is just yours. Things always have a way of working out after all. You’ll get your experience, do your internship without talking to him, and then apply where Jin will be working after. You just have a feeling — call it your intuition — that it’ll work out. // But you’re still somewhat unsettled. You wonder if there’s a way you could switch. At least it wouldn’t hurt to take your chances and ask, then you knew you tried and did all you could. So with a hopeful heart, you approach the office area and open the door. The secretary is gone from her desk, maybe gone to take a bathroom or coffee break, so you take a seat in the waiting area. One second passes before you overhear a familiar voice that you’ve grown to detest. “—don’t see how I’m qualified at all! I haven’t even learned about wedding cakes yet!” The frustration is tangible. “It’s a course for next year!” “Then you’ll get a head start from your classmates, Jungkook.” There’s an audible sigh and his voice becomes calmer. “Miss. Kang, please. I just don’t understand how I could be put in something I didn’t even apply for.” “What do you want to do, Jungkook?” “Pardon?” “What is it that you want to do after you’ve gotten your diploma?” “I want to be a chocolatier.” There’s a pause. “A Master Chocolatier. I want to compete in The World Chocolate Masters. That’s why I applied for Oliver’s and Tokyo Confectionery. Spending my time and my internship at a place that does chocolate is important to me. Not wedding cakes.” “Well, you’re lucky then. I personally know the couple that runs Kim’s Wedding Cake Company. They’re good friends of mine and the man who runs the place with his wife is actually a chocolatier. He studied in Paris and has been in the industry for more than ten years. I feel like you could learn a lot from him, Jungkook. Remember, it’s not the place you go to, but the mentor that you have. Think it over. Give it a few days. If you still have concerns, we can talk about it.” Jungkook huffs in exasperation and grabs his bag. He mutters a reluctant ‘thank you’ before leaving the office. He doesn’t take one look back but on his way out, he catches you staring straight at him in the waiting area. His steps slow but then he scoffs, looks away and walks out. When you get a chance to talk to the lady organizing internships, it’s brief — she apologizes and tells you there’ll be no changes made. There’s no arguing, you know that much. Not when Jungkook quite literally tried every desperate plea in the book. You end up leaving and at the same exact time, Jungkook exits the men’s locker area, changed back into his regular attire. The two of you nearly bump heads, running into each other. “Are you following me?” he flat out asks when your eyes meet. You raise a brow, freezing in the middle of the hallway. “Excuse me?” “Are you following me,” he repeats with a sharp tongue, obviously still peeved over his previous interaction with Miss. Kang. But you don’t know why he’s putting it on you and making such outlandish accusations. There was absolutely no limit to his cockiness. “Get your head out of your ass, Johnson. I don’t have the time or day to follow you around.” “Then what are you doing here?” “I don’t think I need to tell you where I am or what I do.” “Whatever.” Jungkook rolls his eyes and brushes past you. But you turn onto your heel and shout after him— “Do you really think you’ll make it?” “What?” He shifts around to glare. His thick brows are knitted, mouth downturned. “Do you really think you’ll make it as a chocolatier?” You meet his eye and a smirk pulls on your features. A rush of air leaves your nose in a snort. “You? Really? You want to compete in The World Chocolate Masters? That’s cute.” “At least I have actual ambitions and goals and I’m not here for the sake of my boyfriend.” “Excuse me? What are you trying to say?” “Don’t play dumb and act like you didn’t follow your little boyfriend here.” “You don't know anything about me, Jeon.” “I don’t? I know that you’re not passionate about baking, that’s for sure. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have fucking stolen—” “Fuck you,” you spit. “I didn’t.” “Yeah right.” Jungkook scoffs. “Get real, Y/N.” He gets the last word. Jeon Jungkook turns around, walking away with his bag slung over his shoulder. You shout insults after him but he ignores it, making you look like the fool. Tears sting your eyes and your teeth grit. He’s an asshole through and through. You don’t know why you even bother wasting your breath. If Seokjin was the most patient, kindest person and the person that you love the most — then Jeon was the complete opposite. You will forever detest his very being. // Your hand is squeezed and you’re brought out of your thoughts. “Babe? What’s wrong?” You look to your boyfriend. That’s right — you love him and this man loves you. There’s nothing else that could ever matter more than this. “Nothing. I just had...a really long day today.” Seokjin stops walking and spreads open his arms wide. He gestures to you. “Come here.” A smile pulls into your features and you jump into him. Jin laughs, stumbling back as you cuddle into his chest. His arms wrap securely around your frame, shielding you from the cold, from the darkness of the night. You feel safe. “I love you.” He hums and kisses the top of your head. You’re beginning to feel better already.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #bts seokjin #bts slice of life #bts slice of life au #jungkook series #Y'ALL THIS IS GONNA BE THE SWEETEST THING Y'ALL EVER DARN READ #istg reading and editing ch 1 again brings tears to my eyes #im so excited to finally share this series #I HOPE YOU'RE READY

906 notes · View notes

zmediaoutlet · 4 years

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in support of wildfire relief, @jesusonthetortillas donated $10, and requested pre-series pining!Sam, with diary discovery. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

After his little lesson from Sabrina, the hot librarian's assistant, it's not hard at all for Dean to find what he's looking for. He drops Sam off at the library the way he usually does, and flirts with Sabrina on his way out like he usually does, but instead of going to his shift at the construction site like Sam thinks he's going to, he circles back around, through the library stacks on the main floor, and waits like a dingus by YOUNG ADULT – ADVENTURE, watching the back of Sam's nerdy, nerdy head where he's hunched at the computer banks, getting up to no kind of good.

It wouldn't have come to this, Dean thinks, if Sam weren't so—he doesn't even know how to think about it. He doesn't know when to pin it down. They were doing okay. Sam ran away, a few years back, but since then he's—well, he's always bitching at Dad and bitching at Dean half the time too, but he's done good in school, he's done his part with the hunting. It was sometime at that last school. September in Maryland. Dad was gone a lot of the time, because Dad always was, and Dean went with him on about half the hunts but Sam got to stay behind, got to just call in research tips and last-minute lore checks, and Dean thought he was pretty happy, as much as Sam ever seemed happy. Chill, just doing his homework at the rickety desk, not complaining any more than usual about Dean's usual dinners of fast food or Kraft or Top Ramen. Seventeen and getting tall and mellowing out, and finally hanging out with his little brother was just fine. Dean thought.

That was two towns ago, three months ago. Dean picks his nails with his pocket knife, leaning on one elbow by the Hardy Boys. Sam's still working away on the computer. Anymore he always is. After school he's always angling for Dean to bring him to the library and if Dean won't drive him then Sam walks, even when it's raining, like it is half the time in frickin Washington, anyway. Always finding a free computer and settling in and disappearing onto the internet. Not coming home until the library closes, and moody if Dean's there when he walks in, and Dean just—he thought they were past all this crap. He thought that maybe Sam had—settled. Figured out how things were, how things had to be.

Well. Either way. Sabrina, with the glasses and the sexy dreads and the legs that very much went all the way to the floor under those wide-legged pants she was always wearing—she gave Dean a computer lesson, free of charge, and he's got a way in, now. Sam won't talk to him, won't hardly look at him. Dean chews the inside of his cheek, watching Sam type on the battered public machine. Sam's not the only one who knows how to research a case, in this family. Dean's going to figure this out. He's gonna fix it.

A bell rings, at five o'clock, like the end of a school day. Sam jerks like he's been shocked and looks up at the ceiling, clearly annoyed. He's been engrossed for two hours, typing away, reading. Real frickin' boring, on Dean's end, but he stayed put. Like staking out a house for a job—nothing to do but wait. He takes a few steps backwards, makes sure the shelves hide his face, and there's a general rustling as people leave—a mom and her kid, and tears because the kid's favorite book wasn't here—and when Dean looks again the computer banks are empty, and Sabrina's checking out the last few patrons, and Sam's—gone. Walking home in the rain, little goth that he is. Fine with Dean, if it gives him a few minutes.

When he settles into the chair Sam was in it's still warm. He opens up Netscape Navigator, the library's homepage welcoming him in a friendly kinda way—big yellow smiley face, that's fun. He goes to where Sabrina taught him, in the menu at the top: view, and then History, where it turns out the computer saves all the webpages you went to just in case you need to find them again, and there—oh, jackpot. Gotcha, Sam.

All kinds of crap. A weather website, a bunch of Ask Jeeves searches, something called DiffEQandU. Some mythology stuff, too, and Dean goes to one that turns out to be a history of kitsune. That's something, at least—Sam doing his important homework, in there with whatever other crap he's been working on.

The last bunch of results are all pages from some website called Livejournal, which Dean's never heard of. He clicks one at random and is brought to—huh. A splashy red page, with a big picture on top of kids graduating from high school in those dorky blue robes. He scrolls down, skimming, looking for the important details among the mess, but it's hard to tell what it is. A forum, it looks like. Kind of like the ones Dean's been on where people trade car parts, or swap ghost stories. A square box, dated yesterday, that says WHEN IS HARVARD'S APP REVIEW???, and a panicky paragraph where some chick might die if she doesn't get in. Another, the day before, with questions about the SAT, and a link that says 43 comments that, when Dean clicks it, brings him to a bunch of apparently teenagers all giving each other tips from some test they're worried about taking.

College. Dean's stomach curls into a knot. It's all—college stuff, applications and tests and deadlines. The usernames are all weird shit: tmntpizzadelivery, quistis4ever, willyshakes. Dean can't tell—is one of these kids Sam?

Sabrina's nearly done with her line of book nerds. Dean rubs a hand over his mouth and clicks away, tries another of the Livejournal results in the history. Another forum, this one apparently about—soccer? Jesus, Sam. Another forum, this one about Conan the Barbarian, and that one's at least easy to snort at, with people's shitty drawings of Red Sonja and excitement about a possible remake. There are personal pages, though, too—one titled Delaware Sucks, in which some girl complains about her life—one titled trent reznor rules my soul, featuring a goth kid who won't shut up about Nine Inch Nails and his bitch of a mother. Another, with a plain blue-and-grey color scheme, with the title on the road, and a new post from today—from an hour ago—with the text just reading, I don't know what to do anymore, and six comments underneath, waiting.

"Hey—ready to go?" Sabrina says.

Dean jerks in his seat. Sabrina's raising her eyebrows at him, behind her glasses, a little smile curving her mouth that promises something a little better than book dust and computer lessons. "I'm always ready," Dean says, grinning, and gets her to roll her eyes—yeah, he's in there—but his eyes drag back to the webpage, the posts. He scrolls down, quick—post after post, waiting to be read. "Real quick—borrow a pen?"

She has one—she's a sexy librarian, of course she has one—and he uncrumples a receipt from his jacket pocket and writes down the URL, careful to get it right. rearviewmirror.livejournal.com. He wants to click on the comments, but.

"Come on, the movie's starting soon," Sabrina says, and Dean closes Netscape, folds the receipt very carefully into his pocket, stands up. He's got a date to make out with a hot chick in the back of a movie theater, and maybe a little more, and Sam's whole Eeyore routine has to take a number. Dean will figure it out. He's got an easy way to run a stakeout, now.

December 4

Still can't decide. Anyone else going through this?

current mood: agonized current music: motorhead (AGAIN)

Comments:

teenagehamburger: Yes!! I still don't know where I want to go. Mom wants me to stay close to home, but Delaware sucksssss. Where are you looking?

rearviewmirror: Anywhere. TBH I'm still not even sure I should apply.

teenagehamburger: WTF?? Of course you should!! College is the big escape, remember?

December 1

He's driving me INSANE

current mood: annoyed current music: motorhead (again)

Comments:

bloodofreptile: lol you got it bad

rearviewmirror: right now I just want to hit him with a brick, actually

teenagehamburger: LOL!! Sorry :( :(

rearviewmirror: Sigh. I guess it could be worse, right?

teenagehamburger: Definitely!! He could be the cute cheerleader from 4th period who doesn't know I exist….

coppertonebuttgirl: oh, sorry hammie, that sucks <3

November 29

The thing is, I don't even want anything crazy? I just want to be—me. Just me, without anyone breathing down my neck. Trig teacher says I could get in to one of the top ten, but I just want to go *anywhere that's not here*

current mood: restless current music: Pearl Jam (home alone!)

Comments:

bloodofreptile: i hear you lol. why don't they get that the rules and hovering and all that shit just makes us want to run faster?

rearviewmirror: Exactly! My teacher keeps talking about college like it's a place to expand your mind and stuff, and that's fine, but lately I just want to expand my horizons. Kind of ironic?

bloodofreptile: yeah lol haven't you lived like everywhere?

rearviewmirror: Feels like it.

teenagehamburger: Is You Know Who going to college too?

November 18

I feel like it shouldn't be this hard. Normal people have it easy.

current mood: indescribable current music: silence

Comments:

coppertonebuttgirl: feel free to talk to me anytime <3

November 3

Dad's gone again. Didn't say goodbye. We went to the movies and he gave me a beer, and we watched the stars for an hour in the parking lot even though it was freaking freezing. Happier than I've been in a while. Don’t want it to change but it has to change.

current mood: current music:

Comments:

teenagehamburger: OMG, that sounds so romantic?? I can't believe you were drinking!! Aren't you underage?

bloodofreptile: lol relax it's not a big deal

teenagehamburger: I'm just saying!!

coppertonebuttgirl: wish it wasn't hard for you <3

bloodofreptile: dude you've got to say something

rearviewmirror: I literally can't.

bloodofreptile: ok but it's gonna drive you crazy. do you even know if he's gay? start with that maybe

The posts go on, and on. Reading backwards through time, it's a strange piecing-together. rearviewmirror is active in about ten communities and Dean reads through all of them, that week, bringing an illicit cup of coffee in to the library when he doesn't have a construction shift. He reads with his hand over his mouth and by the time he has to get off the computer he's got a headache, every time, his throat dry and aching.

The journal's been active for six months. Dean clicks through the pages to the very start and reads it in the right order, his heart pounding oddly in his ears. I don't know what this place is. A journal, I guess, considering the name. I just need somewhere to talk where no one will listen.

It's not a pouring-out, like some teenage girl doodling hearts around her crush's initials. He holds back. Never says exactly where they're living, never mentions names. To figure out who it was, you'd have to be one of two other people, and Dean knows that Dad can barely turn on a computer, much less go onto the internet and pore over some teenage angst-fest. Dean spends half his time wishing he were the same. Maybe if he hadn't asked Sabrina for help.

At home, Sam's the same as he always is. Comes home after his own stint at the library, eats the dinner Dean gives him. He reads, most of the time. Does his schoolwork. Dean says, careful one night, "Hey, True Lies is on. Wanna watch?" but Sam only gives him a strange, uncertain look and says, "No, I have a paper due," and he shuts himself into their bedroom with the door very firmly closed, and Dean sits there on the couch alone with a beer and Jamie Lee Curtis being sexy as hell on the fuzzy TV, and he—he doesn't know what to do.

He remembers that day, the looking at the stars day. It was November 2. A nasty anniversary, in their family, and yeah, Dad left. Dean got it. He'd thought Sam did, too, by now. It was better to have Dad gone, on a hunt, than trying to drink himself to death at home in the apartment. At least he was working, that way, and not hurting himself. To distract both of them, Dean picked Sam up from the library and they went straight to the movie theater—the Blair Witch sequel, with Dean providing running commentary about how dumb they were about dealing with ghosts, which at least made Sam grin and elbow him to shut up, even if he was laughing too, the liar—and, yeah, afterward they'd picked up Taco Bell, and then after that Dean swung through the liquor store drive-thru and they parked out, and he let Sam have a beer, and they both sat on the trunk and leaned back against the cold glass or the rear window and didn't really talk, much. The stars, big above them. The night, quiet. Sam was pressed against his side, chilled out and not bitching about anything, and Dean tucked his hand behind his head and he was pretty content with the world, right then. His brother, here, and a six-pack waiting, and nothing happening right then that'd hurt them. Sam smiled at him, that night, before he went to bed. It was sweet—like he used to be, when he was little—and Dean had ended up falling asleep on the couch, watching the public access, but his dreams that night were—good, like they never were on the night of November 2, and it had felt… okay.

do you even know if he's gay?

The college prep—that wasn't a surprise. It hurt but it didn't shock. All his worrying, all his whining, wanting to be 'free'—whatever free meant—it was all part and parcel of the last decade. Dean should've known better. Sam wasn't mellowing out. Sam was a stubborn little shit and he'd always wanted to have a life that wasn't—this.

The gay thing. That hit different. One of the communities Sam followed was for lesbian and gay youth, talking about their coming out experiences. Sam didn't post there much but he commented, asked questions. How do you know? What does it feel like? The hamburger girl was from there, a lesbian chick trapped in some Delaware high school. Encouraging, commiserating. They talked about how college would be their big escape, their chance to go to a big city and find their way. Meet people. Only apparently hamburger girl was crushing on the cheerleader from fourth period, and Sam—

Dean makes an excuse the next day. Saturday: no work for Dean, no school for Sam. Alone in the apartment together, all day, after Dean's week of reading—he can't face it. "Where are you going?" Sam asks, eight a.m. with his hair fucked up and coffee clenched between his hands, and Dean looks at him in his pajama pants and his ratty hand-me-down shirt, skinny and tall and hiding things Dean can't handle, and he says, snappish in a way he doesn't mean to be—"Out, Sam, for christ's sake—" and sees Sam's expression shutter before the apartment door slams behind him.

He goes for a drive, out of town. Cold, threatening rain like it always is, but it won't snow. Out—past the airport, past the suburbs, out to Black Lake. They killed the nymph that was drowning people out here, him and Dad, when they first arrived. Sam stayed home. Sullen on the other end of the line when Dean called to say they'd finished the job, and they were getting burgers for dinner, and did Sam want one. Whatever, Sam had said, like even answering was an imposition. That was November, too.

He sits on the hood, heels braced on the bumper, arms locked around his knees. The lake looks cold. He wants to sink into it, wants to feel that freezing shock, like the polar bear dive he did on a dare back in Illinois. The way the brain just goes blank, tv-static filling up everything and washing all the shit away. All the weird crap you don't want to think about, frozen, and the only thing to focus on just—getting out.

He's not going to dive into the lake. It's nine in the morning and he's wearing his only pair of boots. He hasn't gone out with Sabrina all week. He's been piss-poor at the construction site and McMillan nearly brained him with a hammer yesterday, because Dean wasn't paying attention, and the foreman screamed at him in front of the whole crew. None of that feels close, right now. He breathes the wet-clogged air, cold and mossy, turning his ring restlessly on his finger.

Back at that high school they went to in Raton, Mrs. Encinas in 6th period English told Dean he'd be smart, if he didn't just give up all the time. All he needed to do was take the time to read between the lines, to actually interpret what he was reading and not take things on face value. He made some joke. He doesn't remember what it was, now. Like he didn't know what the fuckin Great Gatsby was saying, when he hoped and hoped and never got what he wanted. When happiness always felt like it was about a thousand miles away, on the other side of a lake he couldn't cross, and hope went out like a snuffed light. Dean can read what's not there. He's done it his whole life.

The problem: Sam's little online journal went back six months. They've lived in four towns, in that time. He never uses names, never puts up anything that'd really identify him. They were in Maryland, August-September-first of October, and it was a comment right at the end of August, on the community for gay kids, talking to the hamburger girl: I like someone, too. He doesn't know. He. The same he that carried forward, through all his journal entries, from Maryland to Washington across whole breadth of the country. He likes classic rock. He drives me nuts. He gave me a beer, and I wanted—

Dean curls forward over his knees, sliding his hands into his hair, breathing hard between his knees. He can read between the lines and he wishes that he couldn't. He wishes—god. What? That Sam would just meet a nice girl and fuck her and get it out of his system? Except how he was writing, it wasn't like it was new. It was something he'd been thinking about. When did you know? had read one of the forum posts, and in the responses, among all the dumb teenage crap about formal dances and jerking off to the wrong person in the music video, there was a comment by username rearviewmirror that said, I broke my leg and he carried me to the car and I wanted to kiss him.

Sam broke his leg in July, the summer he turned fifteen. He'd been trying to stay quiet but he'd had this trapped whimper in his throat that he couldn't stop, and Dad had stayed behind to cover their backs and it had been left to Dean, to scoop Sam up, his whole body quivering with the shock—to hug him close between the trees, humid Georgia night making every place their skin touched slick with sweat—to let Sam cling to his neck, shuddering, and to put a hand on his back and whisper, hey, Sammy, it's not even that bad, huh? no bone sticking out, you did good. we're gonna get you a cast and I'm gonna draw you a great picture, okay, Cindy Crawford with her tits out, right there on your shin and Sam had been so shaky that his laugh sounded like he was crying, but he'd nodded against Dean's neck and chattered out sounds cool, Dean, and when Dean got him to the car Sam hadn't wanted to let him go—so they crawled into the backseat together, Sam still half in his lap and with his arms still tight around Dean's neck. Dad got into the front and frowned at Dean in the rearview, and Dean nodded, and when the car leapt forward Sam gasped and gripped at Dean's shirt when his leg got jostled, and Dean put his hand in Sam's hair and said, it's okay, you're okay, and Sam—wanted to kiss him.

He can't square it. It's like there's some twinned version of his brother, in this place Dean never knew existed. All these secrets he's been hoarding, this other person he's been. These wants that make him a stranger.

He goes back home with stuff for lunch around noon. Sam's reading, in the bedroom. "Got pb&j or grilled cheese," Dean calls, down the shotgun kitchen through the thin-carpeted hall, and Sam calls back, "I'm not hungry," which is a goddamn shit of a lie. He grows like an inch a day, he's never not hungry. Dean braces his hands on the counter and counts to five, in his head. He puts the bread away, and puts the cheese in the fridge. He goes into the living room and turns on the TV and it's college football, which is boring as hell, but it fills the apartment with noise. He wishes Dad were home. He wishes he were hunting.

The Huskies lose. Sam hasn't come out of the room, as far as Dean can tell. He's had—four beers? He looks at the table. Five. It's getting toward dark and it's raining, a-fucking-gain, and Dean's still wearing his jacket and his boots and his ears are cold, because the heater in here sucks, and he's shredded the label of the beer everywhere, everywhere. He brushes it off his knees and that just means it's gonna get ground into the shit-brown carpet, but—who cares. He's got other things on his mind.

He gets the last beer out of the fridge. Should've bought more. "Got some spare cash," he says, to the dark hall. There's a halo of light around the half-closed bedroom door. "Thinking pizza for dinner."

Silence.

Dean pushes the beer bottle against his forehead. "C'mon, Sam. It's not going to kill you to prefer pepperoni or sausage. Just say something."

"Doesn't matter," is the response.

Dean squeezes his eyes closed, slams the bottle down to the counter. It's four steps to the bedroom and the door flies open under his palm. "Just fucking say," Dean says, and Sam's looking at him with big eyes, curled up on the twin bed with his back up against the wall, books spread open all around him. Homework, of course. "Just say it, okay? What do you want?"

Sam stares at him. "I don't care! Get—whatever, pepperoni. Jeez, what's up with you?"

"Sure you don't want sausage?" Dean says, kind of nasty, and Sam frowns, shakes his head. Goddamn it. Dean drags a hand over his face, sags against the door frame. He's—a little dizzy. Oh—okay, so maybe he should've eaten, sometime since this morning. "Damn it, Sam," he says, his stomach twinging.

"What?" Give him this—maybe he's sneaking around, maybe he's lying about half his life, but Sam doesn't shrink back from an argument. He's still in his pajamas. He shoves his notebook away, lifts his chin. "What?"

"Been doing some reading," Dean says, and watches Sam's face scrunch disbelievingly. "Rearviewmirror? You don't even like cars."

It's weirdly satisfying to watch Sam blanch. He's been so unaffected the last little while it's almost a relief to get a real reaction. His mouth parts, his eyes go big. He stares at Dean in total silence except the rain drumming on the roof, and then he says, "That's—private."

"Not that private," Dean says. "You're putting shit on the internet for any asshole to read, Sam. It's not a pretty princess diary with a sparkly lock."

Sam's face is white. He licks his lips, his back rigid against the wall. "How did you—you never—"

"I know how to use a friggin computer," Dean says, and watches Sam close his eyes. "So? Got a lot to say to a bunch of strangers. Might as well say it to me. I mean, I'm your brother, right? Family."

It comes out hard but his voice cracks, on the last word. He swallows and some of the anger dissipates. Sam's jaw flexes and he tucks his hands behind his neck and his knees drag in, like defense. Like he needs defense. Against Dean. Like it's Dean who's wrecking things.

Dean's legs go out from under him. He sits down. Right there, in the doorway to the bedroom, the frame hard against his spine. The rain's loud and he doesn't—what is there to say? "You should've told me."

That's really it. Sam looks at him. Disbelief. "How?" he says, and Dean tips his head back against the wall, looks at the popcorn ceiling, says, "I don't know, it's not my damn secret. But you should've."

"Yeah, that would've gone great," Sam says, sarcastic.

Silence. The rain. Dean drags his hand over his face again, clears his throat. "So. You're—queer." For some reason it seems like the simplest thing to start with.

Sam snorts. "I'm not, like, jerking off to JC Chasez," he says, bitter.

"Who?" Dean says, but shakes his head. "God, whatever. Jesus, Sam, I can't—don't talk about you jerking off. You're not—you don't date chicks, either. Ever. So you're—"

"I don't know," Sam says. Kind of firm. Dean closes his eyes to not look at him. "I don't know, okay? But that's not what—" Pause, while he drags in a breath that's audible across the room. Dean curls over, his forehead between his knees. It's too big to hear. Sam blows out air. "You read the whole thing?"

Frail. Cobweb soft, like if Dean breathed too hard it'd break. Dean folds his hands over his head. "I read the whole thing," he says.

"Don't—" Sam says, quick, and cuts himself off. Dean can't stand it—he looks, peeking up, and Sam's made himself small, there at the head of the bed. His mouth is small, his lips between his teeth—his eyes, big and scared. "Dean. I wouldn't—I swear. I wouldn't—"

"Kiss me?" Sam flinches like from a raised fist, when Dean's all the way over here. Dean licks his lips, dropping his hands so they dangle useless between his knees. "Or, what. Leave? Either way it's pretty fucked up, for me, Sam."

"Oh my god," Sam says, very quietly, and—christ. Looks like he's gonna cry.

"Sam," Dean says, and no matter how pissed he is, that's not—Sam fights back. Sam always fights back, he's frickin' annoying that way. He's not supposed to crack like this. Dean rolls up to his knees and Sam's looking away, neck craned unnaturally so that his face is pointed at the broken-blind-covered window so that Dean can't see, but Dean can—Dean can see his teeth so hard in his lip that the skin there's white, and his chest shaky, and his fist clenched in the thin fabric of his pajama bottoms, and, and—"Sammy," Dean says, again, and Sam's eyes close and there is—shit, shit, a tear, running fast out of the corner of his eye, streaking down his cheek so quick that if Dean could blink he might've missed it.

Dean's gut hurts, like he took a punch from a werewolf and he's gonna be bruised for the next three weeks. He doesn't have anything to say to make it better, not when it's this screwed up. This isn't Sam bitching about Dad or whining about crossbow practice or pouting about a move. Sam's been thinking about this for two years and he's managed to talk about it with people, online at least. Dean's coming at it with a week's slow raw realization and he doesn't know how to make it—not how it is.

He gets over to the bed, on his knees. Sam won't look at him, like the view of nothing through the blinds is the most fascinating thing in the world. There's a wet shining trail, down his cheek to his jaw. A damp circle on his t-shirt. Dean says, because he can't think of what else to say, "You really—you want—" and even then, can't articulate it. A kiss. Sex. A kind of close they've never been. He says, slower, "Is that why you want to go?"

Sam drags in air. Sounds like it hurts.

Dean drags his teeth over his lip. There are books all over the bed. He pushes them away, and Sam's notebook. He pushes up—knee on the mattress, and sinking down to his hip, and Sam's close enough to touch, now, and he jerks and looks at Dean like he's an alien. A ghost. Something that can't be real, only they both know that it is. Dean touches Sam's hand, fisted there in his pants, and Sam jerks again, his stiff shoulders back against the wall, and he shoves Dean's hand but no matter the crazy growth spurt Sam's been having Dean's still stronger, still has the reach—he grips Sam's wrist and yanks, gets him off balance, and then he's right inside Sam's grapple and has his hand flat on Sam's chest, pressing him harder against the paint, and Sam stares at him wild-eyed with his breath both fast and deep and Dean leans forward and presses their mouths together. It's a bad kiss—he barely hits on center, and Sam freezes—but there's the touch of warmth, Sam's lips—soft—and the shocked air hitting Dean's face—and Dean drags in breath through his nose and resettles, fits his mouth to Sam's soft open lower lip and makes it better, his head tipping, easy pressure there, just the faintest amount of suction so that when he pulls back a millimeter there's a little smooch sound, and that makes it—real.

He kissed his little brother. No getting around that. No pretending. His nose brushes Sam's cheek and Sam's not really breathing, and Dean—fuck, Dean does it again, pressing in and letting Sam's wrist go so that he can get a hand on Sam's jaw, tipping him so it's good. Sam makes a tiny noise and breathes out hard against his mouth, and when Dean kisses him for a third time Sam meets it, his lips moving finally out of that still shock, his fingertips brushing Dean's arm all careful, his heart pounding under Dean's hand.

Dean pulls back. An inch between them—not enough but all Dean can seem to manage. He swallows. His lips are tingling, and his eyes are closed and he doesn't want to open them, and his fingers—jesus, he's got them tangled in Sam's hair like Sam's some easy hot chick he's picked up at a dive bar, pressing her up against the wall in the bathroom hallway, knowing how the night's going to end.

"We can't," Sam says. Sam. His voice, steady and familiar. "We—Dean. This isn't—"

"No," Dean says, god knows why. He pulls back, though—pulls his hand out of Sam's hair, stands up. His legs wobble for a second. He has to open his eyes and so he drags in a breath and does, and Sam's sitting there with his shoulders high and tight and his hands fisted on his knees and his hair a little fluffed on one side, a little screwy. His mouth parted and his eyes—fixed on Dean's face, looking all over it. Like he's memorizing a trail map, for an unknown stretch of land.

"I'm drunk," Dean says. It's not true. Five beers—he's buzzed but he knows what he's doing. Sam doesn't contradict the lie. "Acting nuts. Sorry, Sam. I—"

"I want pepperoni," Sam says. His face isn't white anymore. He's flushed, dark pink in the hollows of his cheeks. His eyes are dark, wide and fixed on Dean, and there's still that shining trail on his cheek but it's drying. "Order from that place on Melrose. Garlic knots, too."

Dean backs up a step, pins on a smile. "What, you think I'm dumb? Like I wouldn't get knots," he says, and Sam doesn't smile but he nods, brief and fast like Dean's picking up a play in some con they're running, and Dean snaps a finger-gun at Sam—fuck, what is he doing—and turns out of the room, says—"Okay, dinner in thirty minutes or less or your money back!" and walks through the kitchen and out into the living room and out the front door, and closes it behind himself, and leans against it and stares blindly out into the rain, the setting sun still sparking some tiny golden bit of light out to the west, past the horizon.

He licks his lips and tastes salt, not his own. Sam's hand, on his arm—skimming, brushing light through the thickness of his jacket. Like he wasn't sure he'd be allowed to really touch. He drags in the rain-soaked air. He'll drive, to get the pizza. He'll drive, and he'll give Sam time. When he gets back he'll offer Sam half the pie and a beer, and there'll be some movie on TV that Sam probably won't want to watch, but maybe he will. They'll be—brothers. Dean knows how to do that. It feels like it's all he's got left.

It's—not easy but it's not all that hard, either. There's a brutal week where Dean's torn between walking on eggshells and wanting to wrestle Sam to the ground, and Sam goes perfectly silent—not pouty withdrawal or furious silent-treatment, but as still and quiet as though he's not even there. Dean can't bear it. It takes Dad coming home to break it—Dad, and christ, when he calls to say he's coming back Dean completely freezes and his mind fills up with—with—but then Sam looks at him and takes the phone out of his hand and says, his mouth's full—what's up? and after that it's like things… settle. It's not okay but it's livable.

rearviewmirror.livejournal.com goes quiet. Dean checks, occasionally, over the months that pass. When he's looking up some random piece of lore for Dad, when they're hunting alone and Sam's stuck back at whatever shitty hotel they stored him at, and Dean's on research duty because Sam's in high school and can't answer his phone. Dean types in the address and checks, and it's still that last post. Anyone else going through this? He hopes, sincerely, not. It's too fucked up for anyone else to bear. At least the Winchesters have practice.

They run PT. Sam does his homework. Dean watches TV. Hunting focuses things. There's stuff to kill and people to save and things aren't falling apart any more than they ever are, so—Dean deals.

Sam leaves.

It's January. Dean's in a library, alone. Dad's working a job north of Boise and he sent Dean down to Wendover to take care of a haunting, and Dean's done and Dad called and said two more days and there's this raw wounded spot where Dean should be able to turn, to look over his left shoulder and say—but it's empty there, and so he's in a library.

Sam started posting again, when he got to school. Small stuff. That he was sorry for the long break. That he'd ended up at a university after all. The hamburger girl doesn't respond anymore but the Nine Inch Nails boy does: thought you were dead, he says, no-caps like he's so goddamn cool, and Sam says, Just working some stuff out.

Sam likes his professors. He plays pick-up soccer with some of the guys from his dorm. His roommate snores. He doesn't listen to music at all. There's nothing—real. There's none of the sadboy shit, nothing about what he's feeling, no pondering of what it all means. He picks up a few different Livejournal friends, clearly people from his classes, who crack jokes about Ancient Civ and Linear Algebra. He joins a community focused around civil rights litigation. He might as well not be there.

Dean reads it all. If Sam's not calling then Dean's gonna check in whatever way he can. When Sam left Dean made sure he had at least one good knife in his bag and he said don't forget the salt when Sam hiked his backpack onto his shoulder, and Sam snorted and looked at him like a gunshot but he nodded, and Sam's not dumb, he knows how to take care of himself, but. Dean's the big brother, here. He's within his rights, to check and make sure baby bro's not being a dumbass.

January and it's fuckin cold, in Wendover, but the library's too warm. Dean keeps his coat on anyway, scrolling through the comms. He's kinda turning into an expert, navigating the pages, recognizing the shorthand. He hasn't made an account. Doesn't know why he would. He finishes his scan of the comms Sam's part of and doesn't really see any relevant posts, and no comments from rearviewmirror that he can find. He chews his cheek and goes back to the main page, thinking—okay, he can get out of here. Beer and dinner, and finding a motel that doesn't look toxic, and waiting for Dad to call. Not the worst night he could have. He refreshes, one last time, just in case, and there's a new post. He reads:

January 23

Done with class for the week. Feeling restless.

current mood: current music:

Comments:

lawblog69: we should go out!!

bloodofreptile: go get laid

Dean snorts. At least the NIN kid is consistent. He refreshes again and there's a new comment.

bloodofreptile: go get laid

rearviewmirror: Not really in the cards.

He takes a breath, sitting there at the computer bank. It's quiet in here—the good people of Wendover aren't much for the library, apparently—but he feels like someone's right there. Like he could reach out and touch, when it's just words on a glowing screen. Still—the speed of the comment—Sam's… sitting there. Right now, on a computer in Palo Alto, looking at the same thing Dean is.

He refreshes.

bloodofreptile: go get laid

rearviewmirror: Not really in the cards.

bloodofreptile: still holding onto that? very hufflepuff. how long has it been?

rearviewmirror: my whole life

Dean presses his knuckles to his lips, hard enough that he can feel his teeth pressing back. Jesus, Sam. He refreshes—another comment, from coppertonebuttgirl, agreeing about the restlessness but apparently she's off to a date with her boyfriend, and Sam responds and says sounds nice :), and jesus, Sam, Dean thinks. Off to have the big college experience like he wanted so bad, off to have that new shiny life, and after five months away he's still all sadsack, still not actually living.

He clicks the comment box. He types, unaccountably mad. He hits submit, and gets a warning that it'll show as anonymous. He waits, and refreshes, and reads:

Anonymous: Just go hit a bar. Live a little. Thought you were supposed to be smart, college boy.

rearviewmirror: Since when does smart have anything to do with it?

Dean rolls his eyes. He can hear Sam's voice saying it, nettled and trying to sound like he isn't.

Anonymous: You're on here mooning after Cindy Crawford when Claudia Schiffer and Tyra Banks are out there in the real world. Have a beer, get over it.

A pause. Dean has to refresh twice. The librarian walks by with her cart of books and gives him a distracted smile, and Dean's so addled he doesn't actually process and then return it until she's already gone.

rearviewmirror: I don't think it's something you get over. It mattered. It still does, to me.

Dean chews his thumbnail. Sam's face, turned unnaturally, looking out that window at the rain. The wet track, on his cheek.

Anonymous: Matters enough that you're never going to move on?

rearviewmirror: I didn't think you could move on from family. Maybe I was wrong.

The air goes out of Dean's chest. He turns away from the computer, entirely, swiveling the chair so he's looking out at the lonely bookshelves. He flexes his jaw and swivels back around. Hits refresh.

The thread of comments is gone. He blinks, confused. He doesn't think he was hallucinating—been a while, since he was that tired and drunk. But—oh—in its place, a single comment, under the brief conversation with the NIN kid:

rearviewmirror: Tell me if it's you.

Dean licks his lips. He closes out of the browser, picks up his notepad and keys. On the steps outside it's cold, cold, fucking cold, and this town is bleak. He walks down to the Impala, waiting there in the iced-over grey snow, and braces his hands on the hood, and blows out a long purling winter-dragon breath, and then fishes his phone out of his pocket. Another new phone, but he's got Sam's number memorized, and he almost calls before he chickens out. If it's not actually wanted—he imagines that conversation and he's just not constitutionally capable, right now, of facing how goddamn awkward it'd be.

He texts: It's me.

The response, after seconds: Where are you?

The shitty part of Utah. That's saying something. Easier, like this. Like it's not him kicking down a doorway right into Sam's head.

I don't have class tomorrow.

Could be random, if he didn't know who he was talking to. Dean leans his elbows on the hood of the car, looking at the little box of black-and-white text. He chews his lips and thinks. Before he can respond, another message:

I don't want to move on.

Dean tips his head enough that he's pressing the edge of the phone into his forehead. His fingers are cold. He sniffs, his nose dripping in the icy weather, and types, careful to make sure he gets it right: I'm nine hours away.

Less, if he goes over 100 in the boring parts of Nevada, and if he doesn't stop at all for a catnap.

Stop in Reno for a nap. You get weird when you drive all night. Text me when you're close.

Dean works his jaw, standing there in the cold. He's got nothing to do, for two days. He's got most of a tank of gas. He's got—nothing. Nothing. He gets in the car, and he drives.

It's only 9:30 when he gets to Reno. There were parts of Nevada where he drove very, very fast. He pulls into a truck stop, gets more gas and parks out near where the semis are lined up, the drivers early-birding the night away. Still cold here but less so. He twists around so his back's to the passenger door and looks out the driver window at the neon signs of the truck stop, the cars going in and out of the gas islands. He ate a little but his stomach was all twisted up and he couldn't get much down. A beer would go easier but he doesn't want to be drunk. Well. He does. This is insane. This is—completely stupid.

He pulls out his phone, looks at it. Dials and holds it to his ear, and it rings three times—long enough for him to change his mind four times—before there's an answer, and Sam's voice says, "Dean?"

His voice. Dean closes his eyes, tips his head back against the cold glass of the window. "Long time, no speak," Dean says. It feels rusty.

Sam's quiet for a second, on the other end. "Not really, though. Right?"

"I guess so. It's not the same." Dean listens to the little acknowledging sound Sam makes. There's silence again, for seconds that he counts—one and then two and then three. He listens to the cooling tick of the engine, through it, and then says, before he loses his nerve, "I shouldn't come. Right? This is nuts."

There's some noise, staticky. Like something passed over the mic on Sam's phone. After a beat, Sam says, "You should do what you want to do."

"Oh, should I," Dean says, and it comes out sarcastic, but he doesn't really mean it to be mean. Sam doesn't take the bait, staying quiet on the other end, and Dean opens his eyes again, watching a huge truck muscle past the gas island, watching the normal world go by. He rubs his eye. "I've been—it's been weird, Sam."

Understatement, but he doesn't know why he says it. That kind of stuff isn't for Sam to worry about.

"Go to sleep," Sam says, instead of responding. "An hour or something, just enough so you won't drive off the road. Text me when you're close."

Same thing he said before. "It'll be like three in the morning when I'm close," Dean says, and Sam says, "I'll be awake," and then the line disconnects, and Dean's left there alone again on the bench seat, but it—feels different.

He sort of sleeps, sort of doesn't. He's got a talent for going to bed wherever and whenever he has to—on spare tires and on forest floors and in a closet, once, with a propane tank as his pillow—but his brain won't shut up. He drifts in and out, for the hour Sam asked him for, and then he gets out of the car and goes into the 24-hour c-store and buys a big cup of coffee and a Hershey bar, and points the hood west, and follows the yellow dashed line home.

He texts from a gas station outside Sacramento. Sam texts back in less than a minute with an address. Dean glances at his map of California and responds: 45 minutes, and it's more like thirty when he pulls up to the—yeah, the motel, and he makes a sound that's sort of like a laugh except it doesn't feel like one. He turns into the parking lot and the headlights flash the building, and there, sitting on the sidewalk with his back to a pillar.

Dean parks. Sam has his arms folded over his knees, but he unfurls, stands. Dean gets out of the car and Sam's—jesus, ten feet away, his face totally visible under the streetlight. His hair's a little longer. "Did you get taller?" Dean says, and Sam huffs, his head ducking, and—fuck everything else, it's Dean's little brother, and he drags Sam into a hug, folding his arms over Sam's shoulders even if he has to lift on his toes a little to do it. Sam goes stiff for half a second, but he hugs back, and Dean turns his face in, Sam's hair in his nose like it always is, and feels him—warm, and safe. All Dean ever wanted for him, pretty much.

"You have to get the room," Sam says, when they pull apart. At Dean's eyebrows he shrugs, the corner of his mouth curled. "What? My scholarship doesn't include seedy rent by the hour stuff."

"Oversight much?" Dean says, but he goes in, and he gets a room. Two queens, because that's what the tired miserable little desk clerk says they have available. Means Dean doesn't have to think about other possibilities, and it means that when he dangles the keys off his finger and Sam half-smiles at him, when they've walked down the cold sidewalk side by side, when Dean opens the door and finds the different motel room, same as the first—Sam sits on one bed, and Dean sits on the other, and they look at each other, and it's like it's two years ago and they're just two kids, waiting for Dad to come home.

Sam is taller. Taller than Dean, now. His hair long enough to fall in his eyes, which it does constantly. Newish sneakers, and old jeans, and a hooded sweatshirt, and a denim jacket over the top of that. Not warm enough for the Bay in winter, but Dean bites his tongue before he says anything about it.

"How are your classes?" he says, instead.

Sam's cheek sucks in, like he's chewing it. After a second he says, "You don't want to talk about my classes, man." His head tips. "Anyway. You read about it, right."

It was a mistake not to stop for beer. Dean needs something to do with his hands. "Your algebra professor sounds like an asshole," he says.

Makes Sam smile before he ducks his head, looking down at his lap. "I thought—" He swallows, audibly. He shakes his head, his hair falling down and hiding his face. "Only reason I started posting again was that I wondered if you might still—if you'd check."

It's quiet, honest. Dean hasn't talked to Sam in person for half a year and he's off-balance. Expecting Sam to snark, to be dismissive, to roll his eyes. Small hours of the morning, maybe he's too tired not to be honest. Maybe he's growing up. Dean's not prepared for that.

Sam looks up at him when Dean's silent for too long. His teeth dig into the corner of his mouth and he drags his hand through his hair, gets it off his forehead. "I said I didn't want to move on. You know what I meant, right?"

Dean huffs. "Yeah, I'm not an idiot, Sam," he says, and Sam's eyes tighten. Dean leans back on his hands, tips his head back on his shoulders to look at the ceiling. "Thought this was the whole point of getting out. Getting away, making a whole new life. Being someone else."

"I'm still me," Sam says, unseen. "And it wasn't the whole point. I want a life. That part—whatever, that doesn't matter right now. But I never thought the other thing was going to go away."

He stands up, so Dean can see him. Dean looks at him down his nose, and Sam's—god. Tall. That keeps being his first thought. Tall, and maybe not a stranger, even if he's real damn strange. Sam steps closer, in the little space between the two beds, chewing his lip again. He's gonna make a sore there. "Dean," he says, and Dean raises his eyebrows in response. "You came."

"Yeah," Dean says, rueful. "Well. I'm Cindy Crawford."

Sam's face ripples—a frown, surprise—and then a huffed little laugh—and then he steps between Dean's knees and touches his chest, his jaw. Leans down, slow, telegraphing like they're practicing a fight, and Dean stays exactly where he is, leaned back on his hands, and Sam's mouth touches his—softly. Not hesitant. Dean lets his eyes close and feels it. Puff of air against his face as Sam lets out a tense breath and then another kiss, the damp inside Sam's lip catching against Dean's, and Dean kisses back then, reaching up and getting Sam's jaw, his jacket, fisting the denim and pulling Sam closer. There's a stagger—Sam's knee landing on the bed by Dean's hip, and Dean gets an arm around his lower back and kisses him again, tasting him. Salt, and when Dean kisses him again and presses his mouth open, licks inside, there's coffee-taste, Sam's tongue—slick, tentative—he stayed up, to wait for Dean—his kiss clumsier now, like he doesn't have much practice.

Dean pulls back a few inches. Sam's half-draped on him, his weight nearly in Dean's lap. His eyes are dark but big with surprise, like he didn't expect Dean to go with it. "Sammy," Dean says, and Sam—shudders, his hands closing hard around Dean's shoulders. Okay, Dean thinks, filing that away. He drags a thumb over Sam's jaw, where he's got a barely-there prickle of stubble. "What are we doing?"

Sam shakes his head, licks his lips. "This," he says, holding the side of Dean's neck. "This."

They peel Sam's jacket off, and then Dean's. Sam's still in that hoodie, soft black, and Dean gets his fingers just under the hem of it, barely grazing Sam's stomach, kissing him again—tangled up close on the edge of the bed, Sam's thigh slung over his. Sam keeps touching his face, his chest. His amulet, swinging forward between them when he urges Sam down to his back on the mattress, a knee between Sam's and his hand still there on Sam's belly. Sam grips the amulet and breathes out hot against Dean's face and lifts up for another kiss, which Dean gives him easy, and it's—god, it's good. The lights on, the room warm, Sam wanting underneath his hand. His mouth, slick and open, learning how to press back, how to give as good as he's getting. Dean kisses his cheekbone, his jaw, settles his hand flat on Sam's stomach to ground him, says, "Sammy, you've done this before, right?" Sam hitches breath, nods. Dean sorta laughs, lifts up so he can actually see Sam's expression. "More than once?"

"Twice," Sam says, and when Dean raises his eyebrows he frowns, vaguely indignant. "Jenny Morrison, just before graduation." He licks his lips. "And—a guy. After student orientation, here."

"Playing the field, huh?" Dean says. There's no reason it should make his stomach go molten hot. He rubs Sam's stomach, feels the rise of his breath. "You like it?" Sam nods, again. "What'd you do?"

Sam's cheeks are dark, brick-red. He licks his lips again and Dean ducks back in to kiss him, knocking his mouth open, tasting inside. Earns himself a small deep noise and Sam's hand sliding through his hair where it's too short to grab. He nudges Sam's nose and sits up, peeling off his overshirt. "C'mon. What'd you do? Didn't put that up on your journal, how am I supposed to know?"

"It was a rush party," Sam says, looking at him. He pulls his t-shirt off over his head, making sure his amulet stays put, and Sam blinks heavily, his lips parted. Jeez—it's weird. Hot. Sam wants him, Dean thinks, and it sends a rush of blood south. "He's—uh. Pre-med, smart."

"Not looking for his biography, Sammy," Dean says, and spreads his hands on Sam's hips, pushing up. The hoodie moves, the t-shirt underneath rucks up—Sam's pale here but still that faint all-over tan, darker than Dean's skin. He licks his lips. "What'd you do? Jerk each other off?"

Sam nods, again, his mouth open. God, Dean can imagine it. On some dorm-room bed, their heads leaned together, Sam's mouth open just like this—panting, his hand fumbling down—fuck, fuck it's hot, Sam nervous and into it and trying, making sure. "You liked it, huh?" Dean says, stroking his thumbs over Sam's bare belly.

"Yeah," Sam says, thin on not enough air, his knee drawing up. "But I—I thought about—when you kissed me—" and Dean kisses him again, groaning. Jesus, Sam's gonna kill him. Thinking about some shitty nervous freaked-out kiss when another guy's got his tongue in Sam's mouth. Sam grabs his shoulders, sits up, and Dean accommodates him easy, letting Sam touch him back—Sam's hands sliding down his chest, around to his ribs, grasping. "Dean," he says, panting.

"Let's get this off, huh?" Dean says, pulling, and Sam yanks the hoodie off in a second flat, his hair all ruffling up behind it. The shirt comes with it and there's just Sammy's bare smooth skin, that same pale tan all over. Small brownish nipples, slim muscles. His body. Dean dips and kisses his bare shoulder, licking there, biting, and Sam's nails dig into his ribs so he does it again, swinging a leg over so he's straddling Sam's lap, taking his time. He scrapes his teeth over the swell where Sam's collarbone dips into the arch of his trap, and Sam grips his neck, his back arching. He's hard. Shit, he's nineteen, he has to be hard. Dean slides his fingers down Sam's belly to his belt, tucking under the waist of his jeans, but Sam grips his wrist, then, groaning, saying—"Wait—wait—"

Dean drops his head to Sam's shoulder, groaning back. "We waited," he says, but Sam's hand is on his shoulder, pushing him back, making him look. "What?"

Sam's pink. "Have you—with a guy?" Dean rocks back but Sam's holding him close, looking all over his face. "Dean. Have you—"

"Yeah," Dean says, and watches Sam's ears go red. Sam doesn't need to know when, but it was all in the last year. Three dudes, hookups that were way too easy. They were good—turns out that Dean just likes sex, any way someone will give it to him—and he learned what it felt like to have a dick not his own in his hand, how it felt to slip a cock into his mouth and make a man groan. He hadn't thought about Sam while he was doing it, not really, but he's thinking about it now, and Sam's eyes have dropped, his lips between his teeth. Jealous? Dean smiles while Sam can't see and breaks Sam's hold on his wrist, and slides his hand down, and cups the crotch of Sam's jeans where he's swelling them out. Sam jerks, eyes flying open. "Means I know what I'm doing. Yeah?"

"Yeah," Sam breathes, and then it's—undoing his belt, and unzipping, and then—god, he's still got his sneakers on. Dean backs off and kicks off his boots, deliberately, and Sam blinks at him hot-eyed with his chest heaving and his jeans half-open looking like a friggin porno, but then he gets with the program, and the shoes thud to the shitty carpet and then they're practically racing, undressing, and when Dean kicks his boxers off to the side Sam's—naked, half on the bed, staring at him. Dean stares back, circling a hand around Sam's ankle. God, to look at him, in the lamplight. Long legs, hairier on the shins and lightly furred on the thighs, and a decent dark bush around a dick that's—jesus, that dick. Big, bigger than Dean's, bigger than—Dean licks his lips and looks up with an effort and Sam's staring right back at him, focused between his legs, his mouth parted. "Like what you see?" Dean says, and Sam doesn't answer, just reaches for him, and Dean crawls up the bed and settles on his elbow above Sam with their legs brushing bare, Sam's dick hot against his hip, and Sam kisses him with both hands on his face, his thigh dragging up against Dean's, his lips almost trembly.

Dean soothes a hand down Sam's ribs but Sam's—fuck. Shaking. They haven't even done anything. "Sammy," Dean whispers, between Sam's needing brief kisses, and Sam shakes his head and kisses him again and then ducks his head down, his nose brushing under Dean's jaw. Dean pulls Sam closer—tips, so they're on their sides—and pulls Sam's leg over his hip, pushes in, and—ah, shit, shit that feels good, Sam's big dick brushing in against his, dragging heavy and hot. "Oh," says Sam, small, and Dean slips his hand further and grips Sam's ass, the muscle tight and small—pulls in, and pulls again, encouraging, and Sam grips Dean's shoulder underhand tight enough to hurt but follows, pushing in with the rhythm Dean's urging. He's breathing fast, hot against Dean's throat, but he's got it—humping in, meeting Dean, making their dicks slide, his cockhead smearing wet against Dean's belly. Dean hums, kissing Sam's temple where he can just reach it, just enjoying the—insane way it feels. He lets Sam's ass go and Sam keeps going—good, good—and he licks his fingers sloppy, and reaches down between them, and for the first time he gets a grip on Sam's dick, feels the heft of it. Sam makes a sound like he's been shot and Dean says shh, easy, slicking his hand down to the base, squeezing hard as he pulls back up, and Sam makes another gulping strange sound, his thigh clutching hard around Dean's hip, his hand crushing Dean's lower back in closer. "That feel good?" Dean says, and Sam—comes. Fast, humping in, spurting up Dean's belly and his own, the slick getting all over Dean's dick, hot and wet, the sensation enormous. Dean squeezes him through it, knowing, and Sam humps in again and grabs his ass, nails digging in. Dean tips his head back, feeling it. God, it's good. Sam. His brother.

He swallows. His dick's throbbing, wanting more, feeling left behind. Sammy shudders and Dean licks his lips, pushes Sam back so his shoulders hit the bed. He flops—boneless, shocked—and Dean drags his hands over Sam's ribs, frames his hips. His dick is still big, flushed and wet, his balls clutched up high, and Dean licks his lips and says, "Okay," to no one, and leans down, and gets Sam's dick in his mouth.

A shock, Sam's body practically lifting off the bed. "What," he says, somewhere Dean can't see him—"What are you, oh—" and Dean thinks, oh, what if no one has done this? What if Jenny just opened her legs and she and Sam humped awkward and teenage in some backseat—what if pre-med only wiped his handful of Sam's jizz on the mattress and passed out—what if Dean's the first one, here, opening his jaw wide, careful of his teeth, slicking down, getting the whole fat length of it in his mouth. Only—he can't, fuck, Sam's too big. He fists the base, pulls off, spits and slicks the wet down. When he glances up Sam's up on his elbows, staring, and Dean grins at him, jerks it again, swallows. He can taste Sam's jizz, leftover from coming before. "Hang on," Dean says, and goes back down, letting the head bust his lips open, slicking tight down to his fist, dragging his tongue hard against the underside, suckling easy. Sam takes his statement as an order and grips his head, his shoulder, his hips cringing up into Dean's mouth, and Dean heaves in air, feels Sam firming up again, thick and needing and good.

He's only done this a few times but he—shit, he liked it. Likes it better the other way around, of course, but like this—his dick pressing into the bed, throbbing—Sam splitting open his mouth—yeah, it doesn't exactly suck. He bobs up and down, making sure to pay special attention to the soft ridge at the head, and Sam's making insane noises, now, up above him, petting his head and his shoulders and gripping, trying to shove up. Dean leans into his hip so he can't, fists his dick, pulls off gasping and licking his lips. Sam's still staring, down the length of his torso, and Dean jerks him through the goopy mess they're making—his spit, Sam's precome, what Sam's already come. "You like it?" Dean says, and Sam—rolls his eyes, the little shit.

"You're smug," Sam says, and Dean raises his eyebrows and says, "You're damn right I am," and lets Sam's dick go and goes down, down, no fist in the way until Sam's dick hits the back of his throat and he gags—breathes through it—slurps up with tight lips and then goes right back down, getting his throat used to it, learning the feel of this massive, awesome dick. Sam moans, pushes his hips up, and Dean lets him, rides it—lets Sam fuck up, lets him get a rhythm, like fucking—Sam, fucking his face—and Dean reaches down between his own legs and fists his own dick, finally, groaning in relief and making Sam shudder as the vibration rumbles through Dean's open throat. Sam grips his head with both hands, holding him down, and Dean drags in air through his nose and holds there, filled up with Sam and choking, spit flooding out of his open mouth—the world dark and just Sam's taste, his smell—and Sam makes a little sound—and Dean grunts and lifts off, breaks Sam's hold and crawls up his body, straddling his hips and dragging his dick against where Sam's is all sloppy-hot, dripping wet. Sam gasps up at him and grabs his hips, his ass, fucking up into him, and Dean grips both their dicks in two hands, fucking into the tight wet channel he's making for them both, and Sam pulls at his ass, spreading it, rocking his hips to help, moaning and looking helpless up into Dean's face, and Dean leans down and breathes against him and Sam still comes first, creaming them both, his dick flexing and twitching in Dean's grip, and Dean braces one slick hand on the bed and fists himself seriously, jerking fast, and Sam moans and kisses his jaw and pulls at his ass with those big hands, his fingers slipping low, dipping—and Dean jerks and spills, his belly seizing, his thighs clamping around Sam's hips, Sam's lips open and dragging wet against his throat, his fist gripping the bedspread so hard that his fingers cramp.

Sam's stroking his hips, repetitive and soft, when he's done panting. Dean swallows, shifts his weight. He's slumped on top of Sam, his face buried in Sam's shoulder. Wet between them, sliding, and he releases his dick and slips his sticky hand out, bracing on the bed enough to get some air between them. When he lifts up Sam's eyes are half-closed, but he focuses on Dean's face right away, and his hands stop their stroking and just squeeze, warm and tight. "You okay?" Sam says.

"My line," Dean says, and Sam rolls his eyes again, squeezes again. Dean sits up more but Sam doesn't let go. "C'mon, we should clean up."

Sam's eyes tighten, just barely. He sits up, keeping his grip on Dean, and Dean rocks back but doesn't tip over. He gets a hand on Sam's shoulder to keep his balance and Sam says, steady, "Don't freak. Okay?"

"Who's freaking?" Their dicks are still pressed wetly together, though Dean's basically soft, now. Sam's still plump, thick. He swallows. "C'mon, we're gonna get cemented together," he says, and Sam's mouth purses but his grip goes light, and it gives enough room that Dean can lift off, get his feet under him. Jesus, there's enough jizz on him that it's rolling down his belly—he claps a hand to it before it can drop, smearing it over his abs. "You come like a geyser, dude," he says, not really complaining, but Sam's cheeks are red when he looks back up, and he feels—shit. He doesn't know.

He goes to the bathroom. Fluorescent light, pink-painted sink. He wets one of the five-cent washrags and wipes himself up, and he's not turned on anymore so his thought is mainly that it's just gross, and that bed's going to be wrecked, and also, what is he doing. What is he doing.

Sam's hand appears, reaching around him. He jumps. In the mirror behind him, Sam's tall, looking over his shoulder. Looking at Dean, even as he wets the other rag, cleans himself up. Dean chews the inside of his lip and can't really turn away. Sam's got red marks on his shoulder, where Dean was biting him.

"Stay," Sam says. He tosses his wet rag back into the sink and settles his hands on Dean's biceps, squeezing. When he steps forward his dick presses into the small of Dean's back and his chest is warm, damp. "Tomorrow at least. We've got the room. Stay."

"You want your dick sucked again?" Dean says, and that time it is mean and he did kind of mean it to be, and Sam's eyelids dip and his jaw clenches, but he only slips his hands away from Dean's arms to his ribs, holding him. It feels… Dean shakes his head. "Sam," he says, but there's not really anything that can go after it.

A big hand slides up and over, flattening on his breastbone. "It's not just this," Sam says, meeting Dean's eyes in the mirror, and it makes Dean's cheeks go hot.

He covers Sam's hand with his. He shivers, for some reason. He says, "I should take a shower, I've been in the car all day," and Sam says, "Okay," and Dean takes a shower and Sam sits on the closed toilet, watches him through the clear curtain. Gives him a towel when he comes out. Takes his hips, when he's dry, and presses him to the tiled wall, and tips his head up, and kisses him clean.

Five in the morning, or later. There's a clean bed and Dean hasn't slept in a day. He lays down and Sam lays down with him, a few inches away until Dean relents and turns over, and Sam curls up behind him, holding on, his mouth against Dean's shoulder. There's going to be a call from Dad, at some point. Dean's going to have to meet him somewhere, because there's going to be something bad that needs killing. He can't stay. He's wired and tired, all at once.

"Sleep," Sam says, and Dean turns his head against the pillow, knows he will.

"Hey," he says, and Sam makes a quiet noise. "If you put this on your journal, maybe bloodofreptile will finally shut up about you getting laid all the time."

"His name is Dennis," Sam says, and Dean laughs, weirdly glad. Dennis. Yeah, that fits. "And this isn't going on the internet."

"Probably a good idea," Dean says, and Sam says, again, "Dude, go to sleep," and Dean tips back into Sam's warmth, and does, and it's the best sleep he's gotten in a year.

#fffr #wincest #weecest #first time #long fic #my writing #--seriously this one also went too long #but idk it felt right this way

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